Chapter Text
The music was loud and pulsating in her ears, rattled and shook through her soul. It was numbing with a floaty, foggy head and eyes that couldn’t seem to focus, but stayed glued to the cup of liquor in her hands. She felt light, drifting somehow, not happy but soft. Laying on a soft mattress, the blanket being the air, dunked into sweat, smoke, alcohol and pot. She grimaced at the thought but shrugged it off right after, it was a party, you were supposed to have fun.
David's words echoed in her mind, ' We gotta live a little guys' - 'We’re not invited, David' - 'Who cares, no one will notice.' He was in drama, trying to convince the whole group to tag along. Robin grinned as it replayed in her mind, David’s devotion to persuade them, Robin’s anticipation to witness disaster. She didn't go to parties, usually, but this one seemed like a free ticket to the theater, and they were in the drama club . So it had been obligatory, in a way.Robin chuckled while she sipped on her drink.
She lifted her head, let her eyes dart through the crowd of people who grinded against one another at an attempt to dance. Swaying and bumping the cups into air, punch spreading and flying, looking like glitter in light.
A deep voice that cracked at the end sounded next to her, startled her as she winced and turned to her right, gaze on a boy wearing a leaf wreath and a plain, white robe. “You dressing up as the janitor?’’, he slurred and Robin frowned. “It’s Ellen Ripley, you dickhead,” he shrugged and turned to refill his cup. Then he disappeared into the crowd as it swallowed him, diving into the deep, deep and rioting sea.
She leaned on the counter, glancing through the mass of people. The noises, the scent, the heat of bodies passing by her, slowly drowned out, became muffled, as her eyes landed on Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler. Hips swaying, head bobbing and Wheeler had a cup raised in her hand, as well, her eyes closed and-
Something seemed off. The first realization was that both of them, of course, dressed up as a pair. Joel and Lana from Risky Business. How creative and romantic.
The second observation was that Nancy Wheeler, smart Nancy Wheeler, guarded and sharp and concise with her answers in class, concentrated and attentive, with pen tight in her hands; aced tests, essays and reports had fun. Prissy, cautious but confident Wheeler, the embodiment of a buzzkill, had her eyes closed, vulnerable and inattentive, her moves uncoordinated, tipsy. They were vague, vague and slow and completely out of rhythm. Close to tripping, if you'd ask her.
And this seeming contradiction left her eyes blinking. Her gaze sticked to them, fascinated like she found a new species, a new layer to a character, a new door to unexplored possibilities. But something about them was off and as excited as her drunk mind made it up to be, it was somewhat, somehow concerning.
And Harrington, even Harrington, other times clueless, mumbling and oblivious, was aware of that, too. Because they parted, Nancy tumbling towards the kitchen while Robin watched in wonder, her body paralysed, her limbs feeling unattached. Watched as Nancy filled up her drink, about to take a gulp, before Steve was there, attempting to pull it out of her hands.
And that was the next upcoming drama on this Halloween, first the stare-off between Billy the Bully Hargrove and Steve the Hair Harrington. Then the tension between Wheeler and Harrington.
Out of the blue and into her shirt, red on white, the room stilled, the chattering and the dancing stopped and the music, the people were forgotten. Nancy Wheeler and Steve Harrington were in the spotlight. The audience ohh' ed , grasped by the turn of events.
Nancy, Wheeler, glared at Steve, the frown ice cold, the stare piercing, cutting, her mouth agape. " What the hell?" , she slurred, then strutted away. And Harrington followed suit.
Harrington and Wheeler already left people's minds as everything resumed to its prior state. As if nothing happened. No one really cares. The only things that are left are broken hearts, glimmering tears and a shell of someone you used to be. It stays hidden, behind the curtains, the stage. Gossip floats on the surface, the only source, the rest is secret.
Robin was blinking, surprised, surprised with herself because her stomach fell into depths of a bad gut feeling. Why did she care? It was none of her business and they were going to be fine. The picture perfect relationship, the one dimensional characters she sees at school, the façade and everything . It crumbled. They had struggles, of course they had (who didn't?) and they would continue to have. Like the rest of them. Struggles, problems, truths.
Robin pressed her lips together because she had better things to worry about but-
Harrington with his stupid ray beans, with head bowed down, brows drawn together, upset, rushed through the crowd. She eyed him, slurping on her punch as he beelined for the door and left.
Irritation bulbed up in her stomach, blowing the fogginess in her head away. She waited for a stumbling Nancy to follow but she never came, she was alone, alone and helpless because-
she was wasted, dead drunk, and he'd left her and something had to be wrong if you just left your girlfriend or ex-girlfriend like this.
Robin was left with confusion and a pressuring bladder she hadn't noticed moments before. Beer catches up quick, huh.
She pushed through the crowd, through sweaty and moving bodies. Got up the stairs with wobbly limbs but she was fine , she could walk and talk and think...even though her mind kept thinking about Nancy as she knocked on the toilet door.
No answer. She knocked again, heard inaudible slurring and tentatively, slowly opened the door. She peered in, still hesitant, because this was a toilet and she didn't want to walk on people actually using the toilet. And her mind already kind of expected Nancy but she, thank God, wasn't using the toilet.
No, she was standing there, shirt almost completely red now, head tilted down and mouth still open, her eyes big, offended. That look she had when Steve spilled the drink over her. Now it was directed at Robin.
" What the hell?"
It was ironic.
"I just…wanted to use the toilet."
"Well, as you can see it's occ-occ-occupied."
Wow. Even a priss when she's drunk.
There was an uncomfortable silence between them as they stared at one another, a cursed silence. Like the static of a broken radio in the background. Then Nancy turned away, taking the cloth in the sink and lazily draping it over her shirt, trying to clean it up and failing.
"Hey," Robin mumbled and when Nancy didn't answer, she raised her voice, stepping closer and snapping fingers in front of her face, " Hey, princess. Look, I have a shirt under the overall, it's no big deal."
"Well, I don't want your shirt."
Robin bit down her lip, rolling her eyes as Nancy was still busy trying to clean a mess that couldn't be cleaned. Robin pulled down the zip anyway, enough so she could get her arms out of the overall and grab the t-shirt to strip out.
There she was, Robin Buckley, standing in a toilet with Nancy Wheeler in a bra. This could've been a fantasy with Tammy Thompson, whereas with Nancy Wheeler it was absurdity. Her arm with the shirt in her hands hung in the air in front of Wheeler and Wheeler glanced at it, furrowed her brows, eyed Robin, her face, her chest, and then the shirt again.
She huffed, barely audible, but Robin heard it and rolled her eyes. She raised her arms, indecisive as she drew back for a moment, then took her own sweater and pulled it over her head, dropping it to the ground. Robin's eyes landed on her slim torso, her collarbone and ribs visible and creating shadows on her pale, delicate skin. She looked like a porcelain doll, shiny and elegant. Hard but breakable. Vulnerable, like the rest of them.
Nancy had trouble getting in the shirt, wrestling and wringing a bit with arms going wide and Robin grinned, amused, grabbing the shirt at the end and pulling it down. Wheeler’s glimpse was casted downwards, avoidant, a small, silky voice with, "Thank you." Then her eyes wandered to her toes up to her upper body. "You're-, you're still-," Nancy gestured to her breasts and Robin let out a small Oh before zipping the overall shut.
"I'm sorry, by the way."
"For what?", Nancy asked.
"With Steve," she simply said.
" Oh."
Silence. "Hey, uhm, I'm gonna go lock the door, need to pee."
"Right. I can leave if-"
"No, it's alright," she shrugged it off, going to the door and locking it. Then she walked over to the toilet, opening the zip, wow, what was the point of zipping it shut, you dingus, and pulling the overall and her pants down. The silence that followed was awkward, so she cleared her throat. "Uhm, wanna talk about it?"
Nancy was still facing the other direction, back to Robin, raising her shoulder in a half-shrug. Fake indifference. She didn't speak up. Robin cleaned herself and got dressed before turning to the sink to wash her hands.
"I think we broke up."
"You think? Shouldn't you know?", Robin realized her words were kind of slurred too, tried to keep it together, come on Buckley, you just emptied half of your alcohol intake. She wiped her hands on her overall.
"I guess," she raised her head, gaze on Robin as Robin looked right back into blue eyes. Both standing by the sink, leaning on it. Robin laid her elbow on the sink, though Nancy's whole body seemed to rest against it. Understandable.
"It's just-, bullshit, you know? Like , everything is a show, fake smiles and fake kisses and-, and why am I telling you this? I don't even know your name," she shook her head in disbelief and conflict with herself, voice getting quieter like she was talking to herself, like it was a secret. It probably was.
Robin wasn't offended or surprised. She used to blend in, be invisible and that was okay. It was like being a ghost, no one knew you were there yet you had an overview, you were a quiet observer.
"It's Robin."
"Aren't you in the Jazz Band?"
Robin chuckled, "Yeah. I am. Drama, too."
"That fits now, doesn't it?", Nancy looked up from her lashes, smiled, like she said something clever although Robin was using the pun the whole night in her head. But Robin returned the smile anyway, a sweet tug at her lips.
And Nancy licked her lips, averting her eyes. Somehow a heat wave crashed over Robin at that as she bit her bottom lip. Buckley, get your shit together, the alcohol is in the toilet now, not your system. Her biology teacher mocked, oh, the average human liver can process approximately 1 unit of alcohol per hour.
"It's just bullshit, Robin, and it's done. I'm done." And the change of atmosphere, playful to serious again, woke her up like a cold shower and Robin felt sorry. Nancy seemed so indifferent yet exhausted, nonchalant with short answers, with shrugs but with empty, sad eyes. And Harrington must have somehow really, really disappointed her. Not hurt, but disappointed her.
She was about to voice her thoughts when Nancy interrupted her.
"It's not that ," she snapped. She completely turned towards the mirror, arms bracing on the sink as she took in a deep breath. "So much shit happened. It's complicated. It doesn't matter, at least not to you."
Robin lifted an eyebrow but didn't press further, just said, "I care. And I think we should get you home."
"You think? Don't you know?",Nancy quoted her words, her tone having a daring, dangerous wing to it.
"I know that you're drunk."
"Sharp observation," Nancy sneered but her tone wasn't cutting but bitter, bitter and tired.
It was getting on Robin's patience. Because Nancy was drunk and upset, and drunk and upset is naturally a chaotic combination. A hazardous one.
Nancy pushed off the sink, trying to turn to Robin in a smooth movement but nearly falling over so Robin grabbed her waist, steadying her and as a result almost fell over, too.
"Nancy, we should get you home." Said girl grabbed her arms for support, both slightly swaying. Nancy lifted her head while Robin lowered hers, the height difference apparent, and there was the silence again, but this time no static radio, no awkwardness but something tense in the air, laying nervousness on her skin. Deep blues right before her eyes as her breath got caught in her throat.
Nancy's gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips while she parted her mouth , slowly but surely leaning in. And Robin could just stare, stare at Nancy, her eyes now half-lidded, closing, like she was under a spell, and could just stare at the red, glistering lips-
pulled back. Put a hand on Nancy's chest, only lightly, barely pushing. "You-we shouldn't."
And she opened her eyes, blinking, mouth still open. Then her eyes widened, " Oh. Oh, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I-"
"Nancy, it's fine."
"No, it's not. I was just, I don't know. I'm not like-"
That. "Like what?", Robin asked, tone dark now, voice hoarse.
Nancy stared at her, like she was expecting something, like Robin could pull the answer from her lips, her tongue. "Like what, Nancy?"
Nancy still didn't answer. "If you're not like that, then why were you trying to kiss me?"
Robin continued to stare, fiery and burning, burning with something cool like the color blue, with something sad. Icey fire. Hurt and desire.
"Because maybe I'm a little bit like that ? Are you gonna spread a rumor, say slut Nancy Wheeler dumped Harrington 'cause she's a dyke?"
And that caught Robin off guard. Left her with ache, for something or because of something, she didn't know. Her mouth closed and opened, gaping like a fish onshore and Nancy's eyes were watery now, glassy, glimmering, about to break , about to leave now-
Robin grabbed her wrist and the line between Nancy's brows just got deeper, thicker. They were close again, but Nancy seemed distant. Hurt as her lips trembled, as her eyes filled up with tears.
"I get that, it's- it's a small town. Calm down Nancy , it's- I'm, I'm like that," she admitted, avoiding eye contact and staring into the distance, away, away, away. "But you're drunk, and I am and we're-," she swallowed, nearly stumbling over her words, a god damn slurred mess, " we should just go home."
" We're just being stupid teenagers, Robin," the words were filled with venom, as if she was just rephrasing a line she had learned but despised.
"We are being stupid, yeah."
"Did you screw around with a girl before?"
Smooth change of topic.
Robin pressed her lips together, sighing and glancing up the ceiling, tongue sticking to her cheek. She couldn't believe this.
"Well, did you?", she pressed.
" Did you?", Robin dodged the question, reverting her eyes back to Nancy.
"No, but I thought about it."
"What did you think about?",Robin asked.
"Girls know how to, y'know-"
"Do I know now?"
"Don't be a dick."
"No dicks in here."
It was bad but they laughed anyway.
"Well," Robin wriggled with her brows, a playful smile on her face, "do I know?"
"I could show you." Robin's breath hitched at that, eyes wide, unbelieving. Nancy watched her, a smirk appearing on her face like she was pleased with herself, pleased with shocking and impressing Robin at once.
"I need a joint." Nancy scowled at that.
"C'mon, I'm gonna ask Da-"
Wheeler reached out with her hand, fingertips brushing Robin's plump lips and her throat felt like sandpaper, dry and raw. The touch was so light, light and soft like cotton on skin. And Robin couldn't help it, couldn't help leaning into the touch when Nancy cupped her cheek, hand tiny, tender and smooth.
The sudden knock on the door snapped them out of their trance as both jolted back and looked to the door, frowning. " Nancy, are you in there?"
Nancy's frown dropped as soon as she heard the voice whereas Robin's scowl deepened because it was familiar but foreign at once.
"Y-yeah, hold on a minute," she answered, tone high and voice saccharine, sugary but cracking and Robin would never admit that she was a little enchanted by that.
Her eyes dark with blown pupils were on Robin as she whispered, "I want you to come."
Robin laughed, quiet but high, hysterical though the falling feeling in her stomach felt like something else. " What?"
She leaned in close again, breath hitting her face, "I want you to come along, to sleep over ." Oh.
"The dude on the door your chauffeur or something?"
"Yeah, Jonathan probably got wind of the- the drama and," she looked away, eyes unfocused and lips pressed together then shook her head, "it doesn't matter."
"But I need to go home, my parents expect me to-"
" Bullshit. You're at a party, tell them you took care of a drunk friend." Of me.
Robin couldn't argue with that, and she didn't have strict parents, laid back but not enough for her to come ou-
It didn't matter. They would understand.
So who was Robin to decline that offer?