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After everything that’s happened, the one thing Nancy Wheeler can't figure out is her favorite song.
Nancy remembers being conscious for barely a moment before Steve was lifting and practically throwing her through the gate, the world slamming back into focus as her back hit the mattress. She remembers stammering her way through an explanation of the revelation she’d just had, peppered with desperate assurances that she was okay, trying to help everyone understand what they were up against. Finally, unable to handle the overlapping arguing and shouted theories, retreated to Eddie’s room.
Steve and Eddie dragged the mattress back to its place so she could rest for a moment, after everything she’d seen. Now she’s sitting alone in Eddie’s dark, smelly room, trying really hard to ignore how wildly uncomfortable she is. Every thought she has is replaced with another, and by the time she realizes she’s recalling terrible traumas while staring at the corner of a Playboy peeking from under the bed, there’s a new horrifying thought to take its place.
Max had the most sympathy for her position, Nancy could tell it in her sad expression. She’d been thumbing her Walkman nervously the entire time Nancy was telling them what she saw, and immense relief had flooded her features when Eddie easily produced his own from his room for Nancy to use.
Still came the problem of figuring out what her favorite song even was, and then somehow procuring it, because pretty much all Eddie had on hand was metal. Nancy picks up the few cassettes with anything passable on them, just a few that Max still had and two that had been fished out from Eddie’s collection. Simple Minds, Tears for Fears, Eurythmics, and suddenly every song by any of them or anyone else is replaced by the horrifying image of something crawling out of Barb’s mouth.
The clattering of the cassette tapes hitting the bed as they tumble from her hands startles her out of her spiral, and her face is wet with tears. She desperately wants someone to talk to, but with everything going on it seems stupid and insignificant. Max was getting along fine, out there somewhere Will and El were getting along fine, despite everything they had been through. A fresh wave of resentment strikes her at the same time as an undertow of longing.
Johnathan is supposed to be here.
When this happened, he was her rock. And now he was gone, blowing her off, doing absolutely nothing God knows where. Now Nancy is stuck dealing with Steve again, of all people. Adrenaline and fear had driven her to dive off that boat, some reckless display of devotion, but now, alone with her thoughts, she couldn’t find it in her to light that flame again.
Bile rises up in her throat as a new crash of panic shakes her, and her eyes burn with tears as she swallows it away. She needs someone to talk to her, distract her somehow, but her options are emotionally constipated boys, or traumatized little girls.
Her hand is turning the doorknob as her brain catches up with her. Warm light spills into the room from the rest of the trailer, and without waiting for a lull in the conversation, she calls out, “Robin, can you help me?”
Nancy purposefully keeps the door closed so she can’t see anyone, but she can imagine the expression of puzzled concern on Steve’s face. When Robin’s body blocks the light from the hallway, Nancy moves to the side to let her in.
“Are you okay, Nancy? Can I get you anything?” Her shadow wheels towards her, trying to find signs of distress in the dark.
“I-I’m fine,” Nancy’s voice cracks, and Robin huffs a sigh of pity, fully able to tell she’s been crying. “I just need to talk to someone, to be distracted for a second and I just…”
“You don’t want to talk to Steve, I get it,” Robin flicks on the lamp on the bedside table to better assess Nancy’s situation. Her eyes fall onto the cassette tapes strewn across the bed, a rueful smile tugging at her mouth. “Trying to figure out what to put on the Walkman?”
Nancy moves herself back to sit on the bed, unable to meet Robin’s eyes. Pity is not the emotion she needs right now, though she doesn’t know what is. “It’s like I’ve forgotten every song I’ve ever liked. It feels impossible to even think about something like that right now.”
“I love Fleetwood Mac,” Robin says anyways. “There’s a newer album, but Rumors will always be my favorite. I used to listen to it nonstop in middle school, I still do sometimes. I think Go Your Own Way is my favorite song though. I tried to learn how to play it for band, on the trumpet, but uh… well it sounds pretty crazy on just a trumpet.”
For the first time, Nancy does not find herself completely annoyed by Robin’s prattling. It is exactly the kind of nonsense she needs to talk about to keep herself level. “I know a few of their songs,” Nancy says vaguely, not wanting Robin to test her limited knowledge.
“Yeah, it’s too bad there’s no tape for them here. Ooh, how about Oingo Boingo!” Robin exclaims, plucking one of the cassettes out of the case. She quickly locates a tape deck amidst Eddie’s stuff and jams it in, and the opening notes to Dead Man’s Party begin to play through the tinny speakers. “Maybe not the most tasteful, all things considered,” Robin admits, head bobbing gently to the beat, “But it’s a good song.”
“Sure,” Nancy agrees cryptically, watching Robin sift through the rest of the cassettes before setting them to the side. She makes faces at some of them, judging each one as she puts them away. Panic claws impatiently at Nancy’s throat, the music doing nothing to calm her, and so she makes a feeble attempt to continue the conversation. “S-so, you’re in band?”
“Yep,” Robin sighs, “It’s certainly an extracurricular. When they made us all pick an instrument to try in elementary school, I started playing the trumpet, and I just never gave it up. Easier than finding another club or something to put on my college applications. I’m sure it shows perseverance or something, sticking with it for that long. I don’t hate it, but if i quit tomorrow, I wouldn’t miss it, y’know? Did you ever learn to play an instrument?”
“I took piano lessons when I was a kid, but it never stuck.”
“Mm, the piano is nice because you can play it alone. No one really likes to hear the trumpet by itself. That makes it miserable to practice. Plus, you don’t have to march when you play the piano. The marching is the worst part, in all those stupid clothes, its so sweaty. You were smart to do a nice indoor activity like the newspaper.”
“The newspaper got me caught up in this whole mess,” Nancy bites out.
“Yeah, but you really are saving our hides. You’re the smartest one of us. But we don’t have to talk about that.” Robin scoots across the bed, closer to her. They’re both filthy from their dip in the lake and their jaunt through the upside down, but Robin somehow still smells vaguely like men’s deodorant. It’s bizarrely familiar, being at the end of the world with someone who smells like citrus and fir, the aroma stinging Nancy’s nose in that way it always seems to.
“How come you and Steve are so adamant you’re just friends?” Nancy blurts, squeezing her eyes shut against whatever hurt expression Robin is going to make.
“Because first of all, I would never.” Robin’s voice is kind. Nancy was expecting another tirade. “He’s not my type. And secondly, I think he wants to make you… comfortable.”
“Comfortable.” Nancy repeats. She opens her eyes, studying the rings on Robin’s fingers in lieu of looking at her face.
“Yeah, well, you know how big his ego is. I think he thinks that if you thought that we were together, you would be jealous, and that would make you uncomfortable. This obviously assumes you would care about what he does.” She leans back on her hands, forcing Nancy to look up at her. Her hair falls behind her shoulders, eyes gleaming underneath a knowing smirk.
“I don’t think I care any more.”
Robin blinks at her in surprise. “No? I… I saw how you looked at him on the boat.”
“I think that fear and panic trick your brain into feeling things it never would on a normal day. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug.”
An expression Nancy can’t decipher crosses Robin’s face. “What about Johnathan?” she pries.
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him in months, and then he decides to skip his trip to see me. He’s supposed to be here right now. He’s always here when this happens!” Nancy waves her hands wildly, as if to indicate that ‘this’ refers to the whole of the world. “And he’s not here this time. So I don’t know. After everything that’s happened… I don’t know.”
“I don’t blame you. You deserve better than them.” Again, her expression is abnormally unreadable, before mischief crosses her face. “Okay, let’s put it to the test. Fuck, marry, kill: Steve, Johnathan, Eddie.”
For the first time in the last few hours, Nancy laughs. “That’s horrible, Robin.”
When Robin smiles, all the freckles in her cheeks push up into her eyes. Nancy finds herself caught in the slope of her nose and the curve of her mouth for a completely dizzying moment. “You have to answer!” Robin teases like they’re at a slumber party, and didn’t just climb through an interdimensional portal.
“Oh my God, okay, um… wait, I don’t even want to joke about killing them,”
“It’s just a game, c’mon, I won’t tell. Kiss, marry, avoid, then. Isn’t that what they call it in elementary school?”
“Honestly at this point, I’ll marry Eddie. He seems nice enough. And I’ll avoid Johnathan, that’s already going well on its own. That leaves Steve with kiss.”
“Is he that much better at it?” Robin teases.
“I refuse to answer that,” Nancy scoffs at her, pulling a pillow to her chest to hide behind. “I thought he wasn’t your type.”
“He isn’t! Just curious. The fact that Eddie made the list over Johnathan leads me to believe Johnathan is ill-equipped for pleasing you.” Despite her tone, Robin looks embarrassed to have even said it.
“Robin!” Nancy tosses her pillow at her face in offense.
Robin barely dodges it. “What? I have to infer through the information provided that Steve is a better lover than Johnathan!”
“So what’s your ranking then?” Nancy presses, pinning her with one of her evil reporter stares.
Robin stammers uselessly. “They’re not even remotely my type, I couldn’t begin to-“
“They’re three completely different types!” Nancy laughs.
“W-well, I just have no idea what-“
“What is your type then?” She leans forward, purses her lips, and quirks an eyebrow in her well practiced manipulative way. Her fingers itch for a notepad.
Robin gulps under her questioning, suddenly unable to meet her eyes. “Uh… d-dark hair—“
“They all have dark hair.”
“True… um, shorter. Than, um, they are. And soft features? Gentler.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. Are you describing someone in particular? You must be.”
“Look, how about this, I’d marry Steve for convenience, he doesn’t drive me that crazy, I could put up with him. I’d kiss Eddie just because he seems to be pretty chill about us, not creepy or anything, and then I’ll avoid Johnathan because I barely know him and like, fuck that guy right?”
Nancy has a sudden moment of clarity. The most trivial clue for her to piece together right now, though understanding it does bring her some serenity in the interpersonal dynamic of their group. Still, despite knowing what she now knows, she doesn’t find herself repulsed or upset, and in fact, when she realizes how far forward she’s leaned, she doesn’t feel compelled to back off. She reveals her deduction matter of factly, “You don’t like boys.”
“Please don’t tell anyone.” Robin’s response is immediate, and she turns her head away to try to escape Nancy’s piercing stare. Nancy sees her start to hyperventilate, head swiveling, looking for an escape route, and sets her hands on her thighs to try to keep her there.
“I won’t, Robin, it’s okay.” Nancy soothes. Robin looks blankly down at her hands on her, worrying her lip between her teeth. Nancy finds herself struck again by her features, the way the lamp makes her hair glow and the absolutely infuriating way she smells. A curiosity boils deep in her, and here at the familiar end of the world she’s never been one to deny it.
“Nancy, I promise it’s not what you think, I’ve never done anything. I wouldn’t do that to someone or look at someone without knowing if they… what I’m trying to say is you don’t have to worry about me being weird or creepy or anything, you’re my friend and I don’t want that to change. If you want me to go I can, I really don’t want to make you uncomfortable. When you said we were friends I—“
Nancy cuts her off by pressing her mouth to hers. Robin’s lips are softer and fuller than Steve or Johnathan’s are. As Nancy pushes closer, she finds something gentler in the way Robin’s mouth moves than she’s accustomed to, a puzzlingly welcome change. Her fingers dig into Robin’s thighs as she leans forward, pinning her in place as she kisses her. Robin overcomes her initial shock, mouth moving softly against hers, unsure. A hand finds the side of Nancy’s face, fingers trailing softly against her cheek and jaw, fingertips coming to rest at her temples as a warm palm cups her face.
After several moments, Robin pulls back, eyes worried and searching for answers. “Nancy,” she breathes, lips brushing against hers. “I don’t want to make you-“
“You talk so much,” Nancy chides, leaning in to kiss her again, hard but brief. “Is this okay?”
“Mhm!” Robin squeaks, deathly still as if moving will make Nancy change her mind. “I-is it okay with you? I didn’t think you…”
“It’s okay with me, I promise. Just… treat me normally, and I’ll treat you normally, okay? I think I… I think I need this right now.”
Robin shifts forward, her other hand on the collar of Nancy’s shirt. “What do you need?” she asks, still unsure.
“A distraction. When I was kissing you… that was the quietest my head has been since I heard about Chrissy.”
“Then kiss me again,” Robin sighs, eyes flitting across Nancy’s face. Finding no uncertainty, she slips the hand on Nancy’s face back into her wild tangle of hair, the day's events having sent impeccable curls into utter disarray. Pulling her mouth back to hers, Robin makes a soft noise as she meets Nancy’s parted lips, tongue slipping hesitantly between them. Robin’s clear inexperience is no match for her enthusiasm, and Nancy melts against her, hands sliding up her legs to clutch the edges of her shirt.
Nancy finds herself leading, intoxicated by the way every movement of her mouth and brush of her fingers makes Robin jump and shake. Her teeth catch the edge of Robin’s lower lip and she makes a noise too close to a moan to be anything else. More pieces click into place, her brain continuing its need to analyze and file. The annoyance brought on by Robin’s chattering when they were alone in the library makes more sense, as opposed to the cool and more collected person she was around Steve. Robin’s friendship with Steve had felt almost masculine, and perhaps all the lingering glances from him were more in the spirit of competition than anything else. She found herself so oddly enchanted by Robin despite feeling like she was supposed to find her annoying. Robin insisted she was annoying, almost trying to give Nancy a reason to hate her so that this didn’t happen.
It’s too late now. Nancy is too deep in her usual end of the world coping mechanism to back out.
Nancy pulls back slightly to take a breath, heart hammering loudly in her ears. Robin is panting, eyes closed and lips flush and slick. “You’re really good at that,” she sighs, pulling her hands back to run one anxiously through her hair. They both jump and look to the door as Erica’s commanding voice attempts to steer the conversation outside, the ensuing argument pounding gently against the walls. The tape deck’s tinny speakers still rattle with music, keeping their own conversation private. Robin turns back to her, a look of mild panic back on her face.
“I like kissing you,” Nancy states, attempting to dispel the anxious chattering about to spill from Robin.
“I like kissing you too. I’ve never… done that.” She fidgets with one of her rings, eyes dragging over Nancy’s face, pointedly not looking anywhere below her collar. Fear and panic trick your brain into feeling things it wouldn’t on a normal day. Would it feel that again though? Nancy can’t imagine how Robin’s reverent attention wouldn’t make her feel this way.
Adrenaline is a hell of a drug.
Nancy surges forwards, grabbing Robin’s hands and pulling them to her waist as she crashes her mouth back to hers. Robin squeaks in surprise, fingers tangling into the torn hem of Nancy’s shirt. Suddenly desperate for more, Nancy yanks her shirt up, letting Robin’s hands fall to bare skin underneath. She pulls back from her face only long enough to rip the garment over her head, and when her lips return to Robin’s, her mouth is open and panting.
Robin tries to stammer something despite their kissing, but is quickly distracted by the way Nancy shudders when she drags her hands across her sides. Nancy moves all of her focus to every point of contact between them, each fingertip on her clammy skin, the drag of palms, the slip of their lips. Her head is full of pleasant static, and she arches into the touch, her own hands finding the open ends of Robin’s shirt. The only thing she’s thinking is how she wants more, and in a flurry of motion, Nancy drags Robin down to the bed, maneuvering herself underneath her.
“Nancy, are you sure that you… want me to do this?” Robin asks, elbows on either side of her head, knee pressed between her legs. She’s looking at Nancy’s chest unabashedly now, despite her concerns. Her hair falls around her head, enclosing them like a curtain, and between everything else blocking them out from the world, the added blanket of ensuring Nancy is comfortable makes her feel light in a way she’d sworn she’d forgotten.
“I need it. Please. Don’t ask me, whatever you want to give, I want. I need this.” She tries to channel her sincerity through her eyes, pleading.
One more flicker of anxiety passes across Robin’s face before she ducks her head to bury it against Nancy’s neck. Her mouth presses sloppily against the sensitive skin, and she keeps it there as she adjusts herself, raising herself up to her hands. In all her shifting, her knee grinds between Nancy’s thighs and she shudders, body rolling down to meet her.
Robin pulls up to regard her reverently, a look of satisfied fascination on her face. She shifts her leg again, with purpose now, and Nancy lets her head fall back, eyes closed as she pants, biting back more sounds deep in her mouth. One hand lifts off the mattress to touch her chest, fingers sliding over the curve of her breast, somehow managing to brush over her nipple without being able to see it. Robin finds each patch of sensitive skin easily, fingers teasing as she presses her thigh up unrelentingly. Her mouth drops back to Nancy’s neck, her teeth nipping softly just under her jaw. Nancy swallows back a cry, and Robin shakes slightly above her with mirth, letting her entire hand cover her breast, heat radiating through her bra.
“I think I can make you feel better than Steve or Johnathan can,” Robin mumbles into the space between them. “They don’t know where you want to be touched, but I do. I’ve never done anything before but even just this,” she rolls her hips up for emphasis and Nancy whimpers, “This is so easy and you love it.”
Robin sits up suddenly, taking her weight off her hands. Her fingers fly to the button of Nancy’s pants with the same intense curiosity as she had when she was touching all of the stuff in Nancy’s room. She doesn’t bother pushing them down very far, and for this Nancy is grateful, because God knows both of them could use a shower, and instead presses her hand past layers of fabric incessantly.
As Robin touches blindly, trying to feel where she is going, Nancy is struck by her easy confidence. Of course Robin would know what to do, of how to touch her, surely she has more experience with a body like hers than any boy she’ll ever date. With relative ease, Robin’s fingers slip over her pelvis, through coarse hair to rest at her exterior. A desperate shudder clutches Nancy, a familiar lust mixed with an entirely unfamiliar thrill.
Despite her eagerness, Robin has paused, and when Nancy cants her hips up and blinks at her blearily, she finds her waiting for one more bit of permission, eyes falling across her body reverently. Before Robin can voice the question, Nancy presses down against her fingers, throwing her arm over her face. “Please,” she breathes. “I won’t ask again.”
Robin laughs softly, chastised, and presses her fingers between her folds. She gasps as they slip easily through her wetness. Her touches are not clumsy or searching, rather, they glide everywhere, across each dip and fold of her, around her entrance and back again, and Nancy’s body alights, every nerve ending tingling and awake. No inch of her neglected but one, Robin’s fingertips easily find her clit and grind gently across it. Nancy has to bite her fist to keep her whimper in, her whole body convulsing.
“I bet it took those stupid boys forever to figure that out.” Robin grins down at her, panting. “Did they ever get you this wet, Nancy?”
She’s honestly not sure, though her line of thought is cut off by a jolt of pleasure and her answer is simply a muffled keen.
“I may not be able to press into you the same way, but that makes me better. My needs are nothing right now. All my attention is focused on you. To them, you’re only a means to their pleasure. I am only a means to yours. Besides, I have much more control like this.” Her fingers dip back to her entrance, two easily slipping inside her. Robin presses slowly, just carefully enough to ensure her comfort, before they are inside her all the way to the knuckles.
Nancy has had fingers inside her before, though it was rougher and less aware of how it would feel to her. Robin’s fingers were slimmer, but they didn’t drag painfully or press around in awkward ways. She didn’t pull them all the way out, instead grinding them against her slowly. After Nancy relaxes minutely around her, she speeds her pace, and Nancy nearly draws blood with how hard she chomps her hand.
She can’t muffle the cry that Robin rends out of her when she curls her fingers up, pressing hard into her walls. Robin, so enraptured by Nancy’s responses laughs again, not with malice but with genuine amazement. “You’re incredible, Nancy. Tell me that no one has seen you like this but me.”
“Not— ah— not like this,” Nancy promises. Never like this. “N-never this good,”
Robin shifts on the bed, arranging herself in a way so she can loom over her slightly, rolling her hips in time with her hand as if she were really fucking her. Her thumb drifts through wetness until it brushes over her clit again, and Nancy’s eyes go wide, gaze locked onto Robin’s half lidded one.
“You’re mine now. If Johnathan thinks he’s getting you back after this he’s fucking wrong. And I’ll kill Steve if he even looks at you again. You’re all I ever wanted.” Maybe the words were played up for Nancy’s enjoyment, or maybe in all this Robin had found her own end of the world vice in her deeply possessive feelings. Either way, Nancy wasn’t going to argue.
Her first orgasm sneaks up on her. She’s been blindingly close since Robin’s fingers pressed into her, and when she tumbles over, her breathless whine is mixed with Robin’s rueful laugh as she spasms around her fingers. Pleasure sweeps through her, thrumming through each nerve ending and wiping her mind of anything relevant. Robin fucks her through it, barely slowing, and when Nancy doesn’t protest, she continues her ministrations. Relentless, Robin’s pace doesn’t falter, and Nancy has no chance to bask or recover, already pushing towards a second. This one is shallower, a cold wave sweeping through her gut, and her knees attempt to close around Robin’s solid form.
“Once more, princess. You can do it for me, right?” Robin smirks down at her, expression possessive yet tender.
Nancy feels like she may explode from overstimulation, even though she nods fiercely.
“Good, I know you can.”
“Never have before,” Nancy gasps, hips twitching with every pass of Robin’s thumb against her clit.
Robin tuts, “Of course no boy has made you finish three times. I have to make myself indispensable to you if I want you to keep me around.”
Nancy channels the last of her focus into remaining silent as Robin fucks her fingers into her in earnest. Her hips press her in deeper, her fingers now permanently curled in her, and on occasion make an embarrassing squelch from how wet she is now. She doesn’t register that she's whispering Robin’s name over and over until Robin leans down to answer, “I’m here,” against her mouth. Nancy captures her lips desperately, moaning all her sounds into Robin’s mouth where she can swallow them eagerly.
Despite how overstimulated she is, when Nancy finds herself falling up the hill to her last orgasm, it's the deepest one thus far. Her body is numb, save for the friction of Robin’s fingers and the roiling tempest in her abdomen. It almost feels like falling, and for a split second she loses it as Robin’s fingers slip, thumb out of place. The desperation in her whine is dampened by relief when the pleasure returns, and finally, finally, everything falls into place just right and the storm of pleasure brewing in her gut unleashes itself.
“Robin,” she cries, uncaring how loud it is. Her body curls up around her, and though her nerves scream for sensation to end, she has Robin pinned against her completely. Robin’s body is a comforting weight pressing down on her, grounding her as she tries to find the world around her. It takes her a moment to relax, but her body tenses again instantly as Robin pulls her fingers free.
Her hand lingers, cupping over Nancy. “You’re throbbing,” she says in awe. Nancy can only whimper. Slowly, Robin tries to put her back together, shifting her hips and adjusting her pants to make her comfortable. When the world starts to come back to her in pieces, the conversation outside, the music, the unfortunate decor of Eddie’s room, she reaches out for Robin. Finding her hand, she squeezes it, blinking to try to adjust her eyes.
“What can I do for you?” Nancy asks, voice hoarse.
“You’ve done plenty, trust me. I meant what I said about only being a vessel for your pleasure,” she laughs, awkwardness seeping back into her tone. “I’m not ready. But this was enough. More than enough. More than I ever thought I’d get.”
“Can I kiss you again?”
“God, yes,” Robin sighs, leaning down to her happily. This kiss is slow and languid, and if it weren’t for the shaking of her legs, Nancy would request Robin do whatever she was doing with her tongue elsewhere. Even though Nancy feels present again, her head is quieter, happy to relish the slide of their mouths than panic or analyze.
It does produce one thought, which she decides to tell Robin instantly, only because her life depends on it. “Total Eclipse of the Heart.”
“I’m honestly not surprised,” Robin laughs against her mouth. “Entirely fitting for a drama queen like you,”
“Excuse me!” Nancy gasps in mock offense.
“What? It’s kinda romantic, I think! I make you come three times, and then you tell me the song that will save you from the evil clutches of some tortured mind control freak is a power ballad about eternal love.” A bit of confidence seeps back into Robin’s tone, and Nancy can only find affection for it.
“You will not make fun of me in front of them. And you will not breathe a word of this to Steve. Not yet.”
“Yes, ma’am. You don’t have to tell me twice.”
Nancy sighs, focusing on Robin’s weight to keep the panic at bay. “Should we go back out there?”
“Let me bask in this for a few more minutes, please. Plus, you never really rested,”
The words have barely left Robin’s mouth when Nancy feels her eyelids droop. “Yeah,” she concedes, letting herself drift to the sound of Robin’s breathing and the party conversing softly on the other side of the door, a constant vigil between her and the end of the world. She drops off into sleep, a thousand problems forgotten in the crooning voice of Bonnie Tyler and the arms of Robin Buckley.