midnight-fauna

[midnight-fauna]

"i just wanna trust what is mine" (huskerdust)

Pairing: Angel Dust/Husk

Chapter: 1/1

Word count: 5,063

Summary: Five times Angel didn't want to be touched by anyone. And the one time he did.

A/N: Originally posted on my Ao3 under "TheExtrovertOutcast".

Trigger warnings: implied physical/sexual abuse, heavy swearing, canon-typical amounts of innuendos, touch-aversion, brief descriptions of panic attacks

i.

Angel staggered into the Hazbin Hotel, slamming the front doors shut behind him. He was practically limping. Valentino had worked him to the goddamn bone, insisting he tried out new kinks that Angel didn’t even know people could have. Sick bastards. 

He plopped down on one of the barstools in the lobby, groaning indignantly at the added discomfort for his ass. “Whiskers, I’m gon’ need your strongest shit,” he said, mustering up one of his flirty smiles. He sure as hell didn’t need the new “bar-therapist” to comment about his current state. “And if you could top it off with one of them cute li’l umbrellas, that’d be wonderful,” he added, drawing out the last syllable. 

Husk scoffed. “The fuck does this look like?” He gestured pointedly around him. Given both Husk and the bar were fairly recent add-ons to the hotel, there wasn’t a lot other than cheap alcohol and the occasional roach. 

Sighing over-dramatically, Angel got up off the stool, ignoring how his entire fucking body protested. “‘Gotta do everything myself,” he complained. He circled behind the counter and began inspecting what they had. 

“You can’t just-” Husk began.

“Listen, toots, I get you’re the bartender and all that, but that don’t mean you’re the only one who can make a drink worth shit,” Angel interrupted, his multiple hands searching through the rows of bottles. Alastor clearly didn’t give a rat’s ass about stocking the hotel with half-decent booze.

Husk threw his hands up in the air. “Fine. Whatever. It’s not like I get paid to deal with you fuckers anyways,” he muttered. “‘Bar’s all yours.” 

With that, Husk shuffled to move past Angel. Given the cramped space, Husk had to brush up right against him. 

Angel froze. 

He could do touch. Hell, touch was his entire goddamn career. Outside of work, he touched people all the time. He’d flirtily caress practically anyone who crossed his path. He’d cup their cheeks (face or ass, depending on his mood), whisper filthy shit in their ear, trace his fingers over their lips - whatever worked to give him some semblance of control over the situation.

But people touching him? He wasn’t in control. He wasn’t the one initiating. And all too soon in scenarios like that, no matter how innocent the touch, he’d be reminded of all the sick shit Valentino had him do.

It was almost funny, in a fucked up way: a pornstar that hated people touching him. 

Immediately, Angel yanked himself away from Husk, practically bolting to the other side of the bar. Husk shot him a confused look. 

“You’re, uh, right,” Angel coughed out, desperately trying to cram down the panic rising up in his gut. “There isn’t anything in those bottles worth putting in my body. And that’s saying a lot, comin’ from a guy like me.”

The joke didn’t land as smoothly as he hoped it would. Fuckin’ Husk and his judgemental cat eyes. He felt like the man was staring right into his chained soul, seeing every last vulnerable part of him. 

“Tell Alastor to get better stuff,” Angel added in a futile attempt to sound casual. Offering another bullshit grin, he hurried away from the bar, feeling Husk’s eyes on him the entire time. 

ii.

It wasn’t often that Angel met someone he couldn’t seduce or at least get some kind of sexual reaction from. Obviously, there were exceptions - lesbians, asexuals, and, occasionally, a straight man with no taste. But as far as people who were attracted to men? Angel never had a problem riling them up. 

That was why Husk confused him so goddamn much. 

Angel knew the bastard liked dick to some extent; Husk had mentioned a previous gay fling he’d had when he was still alive. And yet, Angel couldn’t get so much as a blush. A stutter. Fuckin’ anything. It bruised his ego more than he’d like to admit. 

“Man, stop staring at me. You’re creeping me the fuck out.” 

Husk’s voice snapped Angel back to reality. The two were on couches across from each other in the hotel lobby. The book Husk had been reading was bookmarked and his full attention was on Angel. 

Showtime. 

“‘Can’t blame a guy for starin’ at what he likes,” Angel purred. Everyone liked flattery, especially in Hell where a solid ninety-nine percent of the population was egotistical shitbags. “Those reading glasses you got on are enough to make anyone fuckin’ drool, toots.” 

Unfortunately, that made Husk promptly take them off, setting the glasses down on the wooden coffee table. “Cut the shit, Angel. You know that stuff doesn’t work on me.” 

“Oh, come on,” Angel whined. He got up off the couch, sauntering over to Husk. He made a show of stretching out his limbs, letting his crop top ride up even higher. Shit like this would make most people hot in all the right places, but Husk didn’t even look fazed. 

He was practically showing off his entire lower torso by the time he swooped down to Husk’s couch, lounging as close as he could to him. “I know folks who would kill to touch me even once,” Angel crooned, “and here I am offerin’ myself up to you and you ain’t gonna do nothin’ about it?” 

Husk snorted in response. “Just because you’re a pornstar doesn’t mean everyone wants to sleep with you.” 

Angel wrinkled his nose at that. Of course everyone wanted to sleep with him. That was his whole fuckin’ appeal. That’s why he was Valentino’s favorite, for fuck’s sake. 

Deciding to amp up his antics, Angel raised his hand up, gently caressing Husk’s cheek. Maybe he liked ‘em sweeter with less dirty talk. It wasn’t Angel’s favorite role to play, but he could pull it off. 

He ran his hand down Husk’s jaw, trailing down his neck, going to his chest-

“Stop.” Husk’s arm shot up, grabbing Angel’s wrist a little too tightly and yanking it away from him. And suddenly, the pressure was all-too-much like Valentino’s chains, his sharp nails, the goddamn bruises-

“Okay!” Angel yelled, much louder than he’d intended to, snatching his wrist back, pulling it close to his chest. “Fuckin’ okay! I get it!” 

It wasn’t Husk’s fault. Deep down, Angel knew that. He was the one who had crossed boundaries, gone too far. But fuck it, it was easier to be pissed at Husk than to take responsibility for himself. 

Angel turned abruptly, speed-walking away from the lounge, away from Husk, away from the situation, away from anything that could bring those memories back. He nearly tripped on Nifty and, despite growing kind of fond of her, he ignored her. 

Charlie rushed into the room. “Angel! I heard yelling-” She stopped, looking at him worriedly. “Angel, are you-”

“Just leave me the hell alone,” Angel snapped, pushing past her. 

He fucking hoped she didn’t see how close he was to crying. 

iii. 

The day had been a shitshow. 

For some goddamn reason, Charlie decided to show up at Valentino’s studio, try to convince him to chill (like that’d ever work), and then accidentally set fire to fuckin’ everything. In response, Valentino had made him do every disgusting act known to man, all without breaks. And to top the shitty night off, Husk had the gall to judge him - call him “fake”, treat Angel like a goddamn kid, and try to fuckin’ act like he was anything better than Angel.

Fuck Husk. Fuck Valentino. Fuck everyone except for the booze in his hand and the loan sharks around him paying for it. 

“Hey, baby, be a doll and bring me another one,” Angel cooed to the shark beside him that looked like he had a spiked dildo for a nose. “Daddy’s out of juice.” 

Angel lounged back as Dildo-Nose got up and headed towards the bar. Even with what felt like gallons of alcohol in his system, Angel was still exhausted - both physically and emotionally. He had genuinely thought things were getting better for him. The hotel had seemed more welcoming than it used to. For a while, he actually felt like he had some semblance of home. Sure, the place was filled with fuckin’ weirdos, but they’d begun to grow on him. Except for Alastor. That motherfucker still creeped Angel out. 

Dildo-Nose’s raspy voice snapped him back to reality. “Here you go, darling. Just for you-” He was about to hand Angel the drink when he was suddenly snatched backward. 

“Nice try, fuckhead.” 

Angel physically gawked at the sight of Husk grabbing Dildo-Nose and flinging him straight into the jukebox. He barely had time to register what the fuck was going on before Husk grabbed him, throwing cards like they were ninja-stars at the remaining loan sharks. 

“Hey, hey, hey, hey!” Angel protested loudly, tripping over himself repeatedly as Husk dragged him out of the nightclub, the two narrowly missing the several bullets being shot their way. 

By the time they made it out onto the sidewalk, Angel had finally begun to process the situation, but he still couldn’t understand why it was happening. “Husk, what the actual fuck are you doing here?” he demanded. 

It was then that his senses caught up to him and he realized Husk was physically restraining him. Despite what his films would have people think, Angel fucking hated being held still. It made him feel helpless in all the wrong ways. It made him feel trapped, weak, easy to use, easy to abuse. 

“Let go of me!” Angel shouted, hating the way his voice cracked when he did. He tried to yank his upper set of arms back. He needed his fucking control back. He was panicking and it was beginning harder and harder to hide it. 

Husk kept his grip firm. It was infuriating that he was stronger than Angel. “No, I’m taking you back to the hotel,” he said. 

Heart racing for all the wrong reasons, Angel continued to struggle against Husk. He tried telling himself that he wasn’t at the studio, that he wasn’t with Valentino, that he knew Husk wouldn’t try shit, but- “Get off!” 

Angel yanked back hard enough and finally - fucking finally - Husk let him go. “That fucker put something in your drink,” Husk hissed. 

“You don’t think I can tell if someone spikes my drink? I do this all the fucking time.” Angel’s heart was threatening to break out of his ribs, pounding so loud he could barely hear Husk. He wanted to run, but he didn’t want to risk Husk grabbing him again. 

Husk stared at him in disbelief. “You just let people drug you all the time?” 

Angel was about two seconds away from a breakdown. “You think I ask for it?! I don’t ask for any of this shit! I didn’t ask to be this way! I didn’t ask for Charlie to save me! I didn’t ask for you to save me. I can handle myself.”

“Really? Because I just saw someone self-destructing,” Husk retorted. “It seems like - I don’t know - you might need a bartender to talk to.” 

Despite all the hiding and masking and acting Angel had done for as long as he could remember, he broke down right in front of the guy who he was seeking approval from most. He admitted fucking everything - the pretending, the escapism, the self-destruction, the hatred, the fear, all of it - laying out his deepest insecurities for Husk to see. 

And, to Angel’s surprise, Husk didn’t judge him. In fact, he admitted to once being an Overlord and the mistakes he made that led him up to then. 

It was almost comforting, knowing that someone else got it and really understood what Angel had been through. What he was still going through. 

It was kind of nice. 

iv.

“Alright! Thank you everyone for coming to today’s group bonding session!” Charlie cheered happily, clapping her hands together. She, Angel, Husk, Vaggie, Nifty, and Sir Pentious were gathered in the hotel lobby. Thankfully, Alastor was nowhere to be found. “For this afternoon’s activity, we’re all going to go around in a circle and everyone will give each person in the group a compliment! A great way to build trust is to feel appreciated by those around you!”

“Compliments?” Sir Pentious asked with a head tilt, drawing out the last consonant in a hiss. “Like telling someone they would make a worthy adversary?” 

Charlie sucked in a breath. “Um, kind of! Sure!” she said, her painfully optimistic personality trying its best to shine through. 

“I get hundreds of compliments a day about my looks, so I expect some original shit from you all,” Angel said with a grin. He was lounging on one of the lobby couches, Husk beside him. Since their fight and eventual make-up a month earlier, they’d begun to get along surprisingly well. They were a hell of a weird pair, but somehow, they made it work. 

“Angel actually brings up a great point!” Charlie shot him a pleased smile. “We should all try to make our compliments sincere and about the person themselves, not just about their appearance! Angel, how about you go first?” 

Angel nearly choked on air, covering it up with a cough. “Uh- I don’t know. Sentimentality ain’t really my thing, sweetheart,” he said, glancing around at the group. Sure, he’d say he was friendly with everyone, but he didn’t know the first thing about “sincere” compliments. “With my line of work, I tend to only praise people’s dick size.” 

“Oooookay!” Charlie exhaled, still beaming from ear to ear, but her eyes revealed she did not know how to respond to that last part. “Well, er, even if they’re not… perfectly sincere compliments, how about you just give it your best shot?” 

“Alright, fine, fine,” Angel said, waving his hand in the air dismissively. “Uh, here goes nothin’, I guess. Nifty,” he began, looking down at the carpet where she was sitting, grimacing at the number of dead roaches in a pile beside her, “you are… without a doubt, the most insane woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowin’ and that’s sayin’ something.” 

“Angel-!” Vaggie sounded like he was about to scold him, but was abruptly cut off by the sound of Nifty’s borderline-maniacal giggling. 

Nifty rushed over to Angel, offering him one of the dead roaches like a pleased housecat offering her owner a mangy mouse. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” she giggled, a familiar crazed look in her single eye. “I’ll name one of the stains on the carpet after you~”

Deciding it was safer to take that shit as a sign of goodwill, Angel nodded, picking up the roach by a leg and setting it to the side. “Wow, uh, thanks, Nifty. That’s… wonderful.” 

She skittered back to her roach pile, humming softly to herself. 

“Vaggie,” Angel paused, for a second, knowing he’d have to choose his words a little more carefully, “you’re scarily good at killin’ people and takin’ charge. The hotel’s, uh, lucky to have you protectin’ it.”

“That was surprisingly decent of you to say,” Vaggie said with raised eyebrows. 

Angel turned away. Hell, this all felt humiliating. He wasn’t one to make people actually like him for anything other than sex. He never even signed up for this goody-two-shoes shtick. Initially, he’d only joined for the hotel so he had a free place to stay as far from Valentino as possible when he wasn’t working. 

He glanced at Charlie, giving her an expression along the lines of, “Do I really have to keep going?” Unfortunately for him, she gave him a nod and a vaguely encouraging thumbs up. 

Deciding to try and get it over as fast as possible, he quickly rattled out, “Charlie, you do great at running this hotel. I used to think you had a zero percent chance of redeemin’ Hell’s worst, but now I think you have a solid eight percent chance, so that’s progress. Sir Pentious, you’re fuckin’ weird as hell, but I’m beginnin’ to like you. And, screw it, if you want to go after Cherri Bomb, I ain’t gonna stop you. She bit her last ex’s head off, so to be honest, I’m more worried for you.” 

Charlie was silent, clearly trying to process all the bullshittery that spewed out of Angel’s mouth. Sir Pentious, however, seemed elated. “Really? So, you think I have a chance with her? This is brilliant news! I will have my dear Egg Bois set up a courtship invitation with her!” His weird-ass snake eyes were practically shimmering with excitement. 

Apparently relieved at Sir Pentious’ positive reaction, Charlie smiled again. “That seemed to go well! Perfect! Now, you just need to give Husk a compliment and we can move on to the next person!” 

Right. Husk. Angel tried to swallow down his nervousness as he turned to Husk. He was cool with everyone else at the hotel. Friendship might be a strong word, but it was something like that. But with Husk? There was something deeper: a mutual understanding, shared trauma, maybe actual trust - if that was still something Angel could actually fucking feel. 

“Come on. Surely, you have one nice thing to say about me,” Husk said with an easy-going smile, light sarcasm lacing his tone. 

Angel scoffed, trying to keep his usual air of nonchalance. “I don’t know. Nothing’s comin’ to mind. I guess you’re a half-decent drinking buddy,” he said, teasing a little. “You, uh, get me… in ways other folks don’t. And because of that, you’re pretty damn patient with me, even when I’m a whiny asshole, which I appreciate. A lot. You’re fun to hang around. I feel comfortable around you, which, shit, I don’t think I’ve ever felt since workin’ for Valentino. You’re a real cool son of a bitch and I’m lucky to have you.” 

He suddenly became very aware that the room had fallen silent. Hell, even Nifty wasn’t doing her creepy ritualistic-sounding humming. He’d been rambling. He’d let too much spill. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“That actually means a lot to me,” Husk said, a little grin on his face. He reached up and placed his hand on Angel’s shoulder. And for a blissful second, it felt fine. It felt okay. Until Angel’s goddam mind became too acutely aware of how close Husk’s fingers were to his neck, how easily he could grab him by the throat just like how Valentino did so often. Angel knew Husk would never do that. Of course, he knew that. But the fear was still there. Consuming him, fucking torturing him every second that Husk’s hand was on his shoulder.

Angel shrugged his shoulder and thankfully, it made Husk’s touch fall away. Trying to recover, Angel cleared his throat loudly. “Right. Okay. Next person.” 

It took until the end of the group activity for Angel’s heart to finally calm down. 

v.

Angel had been at Hazbin Hotel for over five months and it had genuinely begun to feel like home. He couldn’t remember the last time a place felt like that, even back when he was alive.

He was helping restock Husk’s bar with better shit after the two of them had gone out and bought about three dozen bottles of actually decent booze. In all honesty, Angel couldn’t care less about the quality of their alcohol (he’d drank a lot worse, both on Earth and in Hell). Lately, he’d been looking for more and more excuses to spend time with Husk. 

It wasn’t a crush, per se. Angel was a fucking pornstar, for Lucifer’s sake. He didn’t get horny-people shit like that. It was just that he enjoyed Husk’s company. That was all. 

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. 

Speak of the devil, Husk came around the bar, a box of bottles clanking together in his arms. “Vaggie offered to give us some of her collection that she used to hide from Charlie. I took a look at them and honestly, she has some good shit in here.” 

“Yeah?” Angel smiled in spite of himself. “‘Doesn’t surprise me that she hid it. I don’t think Charlie’s still too thrilled that we got a bar in her redemption joint.” 

Husk shrugged, setting the box down on the bar top. “I don’t know. Maybe she could turn it into a lesson on healthy moderation.” 

Angel snorted. “Sure sounds like somethin’ she’d do.” 

He began sifting through the bottles, taking a few of them out to inspect the labels. After a while, he became very aware of Husk’s eyes on him. The gaze wasn’t judgemental like it once was when they first met. It felt warmer than that. Softer than that. Angel sure as hell wasn’t used to anyone looking at him in that way. 

“These’ll do,” Angel said, feigning a nonchalant demeanor. He turned to begin shelving them away, only for his high-heeled boots to catch on one of Nifty’s roach corpse piles. He nearly went careening to the ground, if not for Husk’s hands grabbing onto his waist, hauling him back up before he could smash both the bottles and possibly his skull onto the hardwood floor. 

“Shit-” Angel scrambled to get back his footing, pausing for a few seconds to regain himself before the continued sensation of Husk’s hands on his waist caught up to him. 

It’s just Husk. It’s just Husk, he tried to tell himself. God-fucking-damnit, he hated the way he couldn’t handle even innocent physical touch, not even from the man he trusted the fuckin’ most. What is wrong with me?

In an attempt to save himself from an oncoming panic attack, Angel yanked himself away from Husk, awkwardly smoothing down his clothes. “You’d think I’d be more careful where I step after livin’ with Nifty for as long as we have now,” he joked, willing himself to calm down.

Husk’s gaze told Angel he wasn’t buying it. “Angel, do you not like being touched? At all?” he asked, his voice gentle, careful. As if he was afraid that Angel might break down if he was too direct or harsh. His tone made Angel want to cry and he didn’t know whether it was out of shame or relief. 

“What? Psssh, nah, what are you talkin’ about?” Angel set the bottles down, giving Husk what he hoped looked like an easy-going grin. “I just don’t want you to get an STD or some shit from me.”

Husk frowned. “You and I both know you can’t get an STD from something like that.” 

“You never know! Hell’s a dirty place! There’s probably diseases all over the place, especially on me.” Angel tried to laugh it off, grimacing when he saw Husk’s expression remain serious. “Look, I swear it’s nothin’. You’re worryin’ too much.” 

“I’ve seen you, both with me and a few of the others,” Husk continued. “It seems like you’re fine when you touch us. But the second any of us touch you, even slightly? You shut down. I can see the panic in your eyes every time.”

Angel swallowed, wrapping his two sets of arms around himself. “It’s really not a big deal.”

“It clearly is to you,” Husk said, stepping closer, while still maintaining comfortable space between the two of them (a sentiment that Angel’s heart warmed at). “I don’t know nearly anything about what that asshole moth does to you or makes you do, but I’m gonna take a bold guess and say this-” he gestured to Angel’s closed-off posture, “-is because of him. I want to know what you’re uncomfortable with because I never want to make you feel the way that motherfucker makes you feel or the way Alastor makes me feel. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Going quiet for a long moment, Angel nodded. “Yeah, I hear you.” He glanced around the lobby, making sure no one was listening in on their conversation. “Look, I really enjoy being around you. You make me feel like I can be myself and not- whatever it is that Val wants me to be, y’know? I don’t want you to get the wrong idea and think I don’t trust you or shit. ‘Cause I do. It’s just… something about being touched without warnin’. I don’t know. It makes me feel like I wanna crawl out of my skin.”

Husk nodded. Thank Lucifer, his gaze didn’t seem like he was pitying Angel or seeing him as some fucked-up mess that needed to be coddled like a damn baby. He just seemed understanding. Empathetic. And fuck, if that didn’t make Angel’s guts do a flip. 

“I’ll tell Nifty to keep her roach piles away from the bar,” Husk said, mercifully changing the subject as though sensing how uncomfortable it made Angel to bear his soul (that wasn’t even really his anymore) to him. 

“Thank you,” Angel mumbled quietly, hoping Husk knew he wasn’t talking about the roaches. 

vi. 

They’d done it. They’d actually fucking done it. They’d fended off the Extermination.

The hotel was in shambles, to say the least. Hell, Angel didn’t know if it could be considered a building anymore at that point. Because of the extreme damage, only a few rooms had been left (somewhat) intact. Charlie had promised they’d finish renovations tomorrow with the help of her dad, but she insisted everyone rest after the whole-ass battle they’d had.

Given the very limited selection of rooms that weren’t extreme safety hazards to sleep in (four to be exact - Vaggie had counted), Charlie had everyone pair off. Angel had a feeling it was more to give everyone a sense of companionship given they all had a new sprinkle of PTSD added into their already shitty mental states. Charlie and Vaggie had obviously gotten one of the rooms to themselves. Rosie had insisted on keeping Alastor company. Why the hell someone would want to spend a second with that creep was beyond Angel’s understanding. Nifty and the remaining Egg Bois had grouped up in one of the smaller hotel rooms. And that left the remaining room for Angel and Husk. 

“Seriously? The sharing one bed shtick?” Angel scoffed, plopping down on the mattress. “‘Sounds like something straight out of one of my porn movies.” 

Husk raised an eyebrow. “I can sleep on the floor if the thought makes you uncomfortable. I know, uh, being reminded of your work isn’t exactly your idea of a good time.” 

“No, no, it’s fine,” Angel insisted, clambering into bed, already in his pajamas and having cleaned most of the angel blood out of his hair. “It ain’t like I think you’re gonna pull shit or anything.” 

With a shrug, Husk reluctantly got into bed beside him. The room was already near pitch dark thanks to the electrical system being blasted apart. The only light was from the crimson sky of Hell, serving as a forever reminder of their damnation. 

Silence fell between the two of them for a long while, a comfortable few inches of space between them on the king-sized mattress. Angel was beginning to think Husk had already fallen asleep until he finally spoke. 

“It’s hard to believe he’s gone, you know?” Husk said quietly and Angel immediately knew who he was referring to. An uncomfortable sensation of guilt panged in his stomach. Fuck, he hadn’t even been thinking about Sir Pentious. In all the chaos, he’d nearly forgotten about the insane, but admirable, shit he’d pulled. 

“Yeah,” Angel breathed. “And just as I was beginnin’ to like him too.” 

Husk exhaled out a long, tired sigh. “I wish he’d been the one to magically show up, not Alastor. Fuck, for a second there, I really thought I was free.” 

“I’m sorry” was all Angel could muster. Hell, he was shit with words and even more shit at comforting people. He wished he knew all the right things to say to make Husk feel better, show him that Angel really did care about him. It was probably more than just care. Angel didn’t know what it was that he felt for Husk, but he knew damn well it was strong. Even stronger than his initial admiration and adoration for Valentino back when he’d first met him. 

Without giving himself time to hesitate, he reached forward, enveloping Husk in a hug. At that point, he couldn’t give a rat’s ass about his fears. All he wanted was to comfort Husk. That was the only damn thing driving him. 

“Whoa-” Husk mumbled under his breath, surprise evident in his tone. “Angel, I know you don’t like this sort of thing. You don’t have to-”

“I want to,” Angel interrupted.

Cautiously, Angel felt Husk relax and carefully wrap his arms around Angel, embracing him back. To Angel’s immediate surprise, he didn’t feel the all-too-familiar sensation of panic rising up in him. If anything, he felt the opposite. He felt safe. He felt accepted. Shit, he felt loved. 

Husk was pressed right up against Angel’s whole body. His face was buried in Angel’s shoulder and Angel could feel Husk’s breath gently puffing against the top of his chest fluff. Under any other circumstances, Angel would be yanking away, shoving the person off of him. His heart was beating slower than usual, rather than faster. He didn’t know if it was some sort of freaky cat magic, but he genuinely felt calmer. 

It dawned on him that it was the only time he’d felt someone pressed so completely against him and it didn’t feel sexual at all. 

“I don’t think I can remember the last time I hugged someone,” Husk mumbled against his shoulder.

Angel huffed out a quiet laugh. “Shit, people wrap their arms around me all the damn time. But uh, yeah, this… feels different. ‘Feels better.”

He could’ve sworn he felt Husk smile a little and Hell, it made Angel’s stomach flutter like he was a goddamn teenager. 

They laid there for a long time until Husk’s breath slowed, his weight leaning more into Angel as quiet snores escaped his parted lips. Someone falling asleep on him was definitely new to Angel. Even on set, Valentino didn’t give a shit about aftercare or, honestly, any care at all. 

Despite telling himself over and over again that he’d never trust someone again after Val, Angel found himself drifting off next to Husk, feeling safe and secure in ways he’d been craving for decades. 

[midnight-fauna]

Welcome to Hellfire.

[midnight-fauna]

happy mothers day <333

[midnight-fauna]

originally posted to TikTok. my contribution for sam's birthday today. :))

[midnight-fauna]

this is for my samgirl (gn) mutuals

credits to: @midnight-fauna

w* and bibros dni

[midnight-fauna]

hey gay people. you want to request a funky lil wenclair oneshot? mayhaps a ronance one? a steddie one? mayhaps another ship entirely? let me know.

a bitch is taking requests bc why not?

[midnight-fauna]

can you keep me close? (can you love me most?)

A/N: Inspired by an edit by @bayatommo on TikTok and beta-read by the lovely @horrorbaby666

Pairings: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Chapters: 2/2 (both included in post)

Summary: The one where Steve gets kidnapped by the Russians again, Eddie saves him, and all the hurt/comfort that ensues.

Part One:

“It’s all over, I promise. Their base was destroyed and the majority of them were killed. You’re safe now.”

Doctor Owen’s past words replayed over and over in Steve’s mind, a stabbing reminder of what should’ve been true. Steve had spent more than a year trying to convince himself of it. He’d woken up in a sheen of sweat countless times, whispering to himself that the Russians were gone - that he was free. 

Bullshit.

“We know you know about the portals to the other dimension, Steve Harrington,” the Russian in front of him leered in a thick accent, the man the others referred to as Konstantin. “You will give us their precise location or we will kill you and everyone associated with you. Do you understand?”

Steve let out a garbled sob, his own blood coating his throat. Welts from whips were strung across his back, making the slightest movements agonizing. He was sure at least three of his ribs were broken and god, he swore he could feel one of them pierce against his organs with each strangled inhale. He tried to look up at Konstantin, but the relentless pounding in his skull was effectively making him blind in one eye. He knew he’d developed head injuries over the years, but hadn’t dared tell anyone that the headaches were sometimes so intense that he lost his vision and he couldn’t hear out of his left ear.

If he survived this, maybe he’d finally tell someone.

“I told you.” Steve’s head fell forward, his somewhat still-drugged body unable to hold it up any longer. The only thing that kept him from face-planting was the crude rope restraints that tethered him to the splintering chair. “They’re closed. All of them. Vecna’s dead. There’s no-”

Konstantin took the whip in his hands and lashed it across Steve’s forearm, forcing a wrecked scream from his bloodied lips. The tears began to fall harder as waves of raw anguish crashed into Steve.

“You lie!” Konstantin hissed, baring his rotting teeth. 

“No, no, no, no, no,” Steve mumbled out in a hopeless beg, dark spots beginning to cloud his remaining sight. 

Steve heard the crack of the whip and shot his head up. “Please! Please! It’s true! Fuck, I promise, I’m telling the fucking truth!”

Slowly, Konstantin lowered his weapon and Steve nearly sobbed again from the relief.

“Sir.” Steve tried to turn his head around to see the person coming in behind him, to no avail. He heard the metal door swing open with a shrill creak before slamming shut once again. 

The man stepped around Steve, shooting him a look of raw disgust, before turning to Konstantin and murmuring, “We can’t find Munson.”

Oh, thank god.

“Hawkins is a small town,” Konstantin spat. “He is a freak of nature, a black sheep, and yet you still can’t find him? Pathetic, Iosif.”

Iosif stiffened and nodded curtly. “My apologies. We will continue searching.”

“My men are certain this Munson was infected by something in the other dimension. He can surely lead us to what we seek,” Konstantin paused to glare at Steve. “I thought this sorry excuse for a man would be of some help, but it seems not.”

Steve barely registered the insult, everything in his mind focused on Eddie. His name replayed like a chant in Steve’s mind, a solemn prayer as though the thought of Eddie alone could save him from the torture. He begged the universe to keep Eddie safe, to keep him as far away as possible from Steve and all his shit. Eddie wasn’t “infected”. He was just some guy that happened to sell drugs to the wrong girl at the wrong time. He deserved to get away from Hawkins, away from all the bullshit, away from Steve.

Iosif saluted to Konstantin, mumbling something in Russian, before retreating to where he’d come in. A shiver wracked Steve’s marred back as Konstantin’s gaze shifted back to him. 

“You will pay for wasting my time,” Konstantin said quietly, as though he was making an off-handed comment rather than directly threatening someone. Steve’s bloodshot eye followed Konstantin, watching him roll over a metal cart. His gaze followed Konstantin’s gloved hands to the instruments he was inspecting. His stomach plummeted.

“Please,” Steve croaked, voice spent from his previous screams. “Please, no. Just kill me. Shit, just- please. No one will care to look for me, I promise. I’ll just disappear and you won’t have to worry about anyone fucking up your shit.”

“I know no one cares enough to search for you, Steve Harrington,” Konstantin whispered, eyes trained on the hook-like tool in his grasp. “That is why I will break you apart limb by limb, taking my time doing so. After all…” Konstantin’s voice trailed off, coming to stand in front of Steve once again.

“No one is coming to save you.”

~~~

Six missed calls.

It’d taken Eddie six missed calls before he’d given in to his panic and sped over to Steve Harrington’s house.

For once in his life, his incessant worrying had actually proved helpful.

At first, he’d just rung the doorbell. After a few failed attempts, he’d resorted to slightly aggressive knocking. When both led to no response, Eddie had given up and picked the lock, letting himself in. 

Harrington’s house looked like a fucking crime scene.

The living room was a mess of flung open drawers, knocked-over furniture, and smashed glass. There were books and papers all over the floor, strung about in such a way that it looked like someone had been searching for something.

Jesus Christ, had Steve been robbed?

“Harrington?” Eddie called, trying to stifle the panic in his voice. “Uh, I know I’m not the best when it comes to interior decorating, but this doesn’t really feel like your style.”

Silence.

Eddie shoved his hands in his leather jacket’s pockets, slowly walking through the house. “C’mon, Stevie, I know our friendship has been kinda iffy since the whole Vecna thing, but I just wanted to make sure you-”

Eddie froze. He smelled the blood before he saw it. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Steve? Steve?!” Eddie yelled, breaking into a sprint. The wreckage passed from the living room to the adjacent dining room and kitchen. He followed the metallic scent like a dog on a hunt, eventually leading him to what he could only assume was Harrington Sr.’s office. 

Shit.

Blood stained the expensive carpet like spilled wine, partially covered by even more scattered documents. Eddie’s nose twitched. That blood wasn’t Steve’s. It was unfamiliar and bitter. Eddie’s eyes trailed across the room, finally landing on a stained bat with nails crudely pointing out of it. There was older blood on it, one similar to the Demobats’. That wasn’t what concerned Eddie, however. What got his attention was the fresh blood on it: the blood that was undoubtedly Steve’s.

It took him three minutes to try not to have an anxiety attack. Seven more minutes to try and figure out what happened. Two more to remember the location trackers he’d discreetly put in each of his friends’ walkie-talkies. Eighteen more to track down Steve’s. Twenty-three more to get to the location.

“What the fuck?” Eddie mumbled to himself as he climbed out of his van, inspecting the scene in front of him. It looked almost like something from the military - a small, lone, dome-like building sat in one of the many plain expanses of outer Hawkins. It appeared abandoned.

Eddie double-checked the coordinates messily written on his wrist. It was supposedly right, but-

“Hey!” a voice shot Eddie from his thoughts. His head snapped up to see a gruff-looking man with a whole-ass rifle strapped to his back approaching Eddie. 

“What are you doing here?” the man asked, a strong accent covering his words. Russian, if Eddie had to guess.

“Uh, hey, sorry, man,” Eddie said, lifting his hands up in a show of peace. “I was, uh, trying to get to my grandma’s house and I guess I got really lost, huh?”

“No grandmas live here,” the man deadpanned and if it wasn’t for the circumstances, Eddie might’ve laughed at how seriously the guy said it. 

Eddie cleared his throat. “Yeah… I can- I can definitely tell. Listen, I’m like cool with military people, okay? My dad’s one. James Munson? Maybe you know him? He’s not in Hawkins, but-”

“Munson?” The man raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m his kid, so I-”

The man grinned, something unsettling and dangerous. “We haven’t been able to get anything out of Steve Harrington. Konstantin will be pleased to know we got you now.” 

Eddie froze.

“You have Steve?” he asked slowly. 

“We’ve had him for two days now,” the man said as though he was proud of it. “I’m surprised he’s lasted this long after all Konstantin has put him-” 

Eddie lunged at the man, barreling him to the ground with inhuman strength. He felt the familiar sting of fangs unsheathing from his gums and animalistic claws emerging from his fingernails. Sadistic pleasure coursed through him at the horror on the man’s face.

A string of what Eddie could only assume was Russian swears spilled from the man’s mouth. “Konstantin was right. You really are a-”

“Shut the fuck up and tell me where Steve is or I will rip out your throat.” One of Eddie’s hands lifted to wrap around the man’s neck, claws piercing the tender skin. He relished in the pained gasp that it received. 

“Inside- inside-” the man spluttered out. “Konstantin has him. Don’t kill me. Please, don’t-”

The man’s sentence was interrupted by the sound of him gargling on his own blood as Eddie quickly clutched his claws shut and pulled, tearing out the Russian’s jugular in one movement. 

Carelessly, he threw the body to the side and sprinted for the base’s door. His eyes fell on a screen and he pressed his finger against it. Immediately, the screen flashed red, Russian words appearing on the screen. Beneath the unfamiliar letters was an image of a fingerprint with an “x” over it.

Realization clicked in Eddie’s mind and he walked back to the body, placing one boot on the man’s limp forearm and bending down. He drew a knife from his back pocket and pressed it against the base of the Russian’s index finger. With ease, he pressed down, slicing the digit from its hand, and took it, making his way back to the door.

A press of the finger against the screen and the door opened.

Eddie was immediately met with two armed guards. They jolted to attention, surprise overtaking their faces. Eddie’s eyes trailed down to where blood was splattered on one of the men’s shoes - Steve’s blood. 

Something in Eddie snapped.

Finally.

They deserve it, the voice hissed. Eddie took a step forward, fangs bared. They stood by and let Steve suffer. Tear out their hearts. Make them pay.

Eddie barely registered his actions, his mind a whirlwind of white noise. His attention focused on the screeches of agony erupting out of his victims alongside the addicting feeling of his claws and fangs digging into flesh. He slashed and stabbed and bit and fuck, it felt good.

More, the voice pleaded. The only one that makes it out alive is Steve. Everyone else will stay in this prison forever. I want their insides painting the fucking walls.

Eddie obeyed.

~~~

Steve was rapidly falling in and out of consciousness.

“Inject him again,” Konstantin instructed someone. Steve could see the blurry outline of the man’s bloody shoes in front of him, but his voice still sounded distant. 

He felt the needle against the back of his neck and he willed his body to jerk away, to fight, to do something. It simply wouldn’t. He didn’t think any of his body could move anymore.

“Sir, any more shots of stimulants after this could result in heart failure,” another far-away voice said. 

Konstantin’s shoes disappeared from Steve’s line of vision. “If he dies, then so be it. He’s stopped reacting to anything. He’s no longer entertaining to me.”

“Any news on Munson?” Konstantin asked.

Please say no. Please say no.

“No, sir.”

Thank god.

“You will find him by tomorrow morning or you will experience exactly what this boy has. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, now-”

Konstantin’s voice was cut off by a loud thud. Steve willed himself to look up, but his neck stayed limp. He tried to focus on what was going on - tried to understand why there was screaming and crashing - but his mind was drifting. His eyes lulled. Finally. Fucking finally, he could rest.

“Steve? Stevie?” 

Steve barely heard the voice in the thick fog of his own head.

“No, no, Steve. C’mon, Stevie, you gotta wake up.”

Waking up was too hard. Steve just wanted to sleep.

“Focus, Stevie, focus. Look at me, please, look at me. You’re stronger than this. I know you are.”

Steve wasn’t strong. Steve was broken. He was always broken.

“I can’t fucking lose you, okay? You gotta fight for me, okay? You gotta fight to stay alive.”

No one cared about Steve. The voice was just another illusion from the drugs. 

“Steve, please. It’s me. It’s Munson. I’m right here. I’m gonna get you out of here, okay? Just stay with me. God, just stay with me.”

… Eddie?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part Two:

Everything fucking hurt.

Steve stirred and instantly a warm hand latched onto his.

“Hey, hey, Stevie. It’s okay.”

Steve’s eyelids fluttered. He knew that voice.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah, yeah, man, it’s me.”

Memories crashed into Steve all at once. His house. Getting attacked in his dad’s office. Waking up in an underground base. The Russians. Konstantin. The whips. The hooks. The knives. Dying.

“No, no, no, Eddie, you’re not supposed to be here,” Steve mumbled out, straining his eyes to open more. “You’re not supposed to be dead. Oh god, did they get you too? I’m so sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry. You’re dead like me and it’s all my-”

“Hey, look at me.” Eddie’s voice was like an anchor to Steve’s ship, grounding him even in the wildest of storms. Physically shaking, he forced his eyes open to stare at Eddie.

“Oh, fuck,” Steve whispered, feeling tears begin to roll down his cheeks. Eddie was painted in a silhouette of golden light shining behind him. His curls were radiant and his beautiful features were so soft. “Oh fuck, you are an angel. You are dead. Oh no, no, no, no-”

Eddie’s free hand lifted from his side to cup the side of Steve’s face. “No, no. Sweetheart, look at me. I’m right here. I’m alive. You’re alive. We’re okay. You’re on a shit ton of painkillers right now so I know everything seems really weird, but I promise I’m alive.”

Steve leaned into the touch, sobs still wracking his broken body. His eyes darted around the room, recognizing it as a hospital before his gaze shot back up to Eddie. “They wouldn’t stop. I begged them to stop, but they wouldn’t. I told them- I told them that the gates were all closed, but they wouldn’t believe me. They wouldn’t stop hurting me. I couldn’t-” Steve’s words slurred together in a mess of incoherent babbles, Eddie’s slow caresses on his back the only thing keeping him from a full-on panic attack.

“I know, Stevie, I know. I’m so sorry, honey. I should’ve realized you were missing sooner. I am so fucking sorry,” Eddie’s voice cracked and in Steve’s blurred vision, he could see similar tears begin to fall down Eddie’s flushed cheeks.

“But… you…” Steve trailed off as he strained to recall the last things he could remember. “You saved me. How did you…?”

“I’ll explain it all later, alright? But you need to rest now. Your body needs time to heal,” Eddie murmured and stood from his chair.

“No!” Steve practically screamed, causing Eddie to jump. Panicking, Steve grabbed tightly onto Eddie’s hand, pulling him back. “Please don’t go. I don’t want to be alone.” 

Eddie’s pretty eyes softened and he sat back down only for Steve to tug on him again. “Can you come up here?” Steve asked, gesturing with his chin to the hospital bed. The tiny rational part of his brain that remained begged him to shut up. It was certainly not the time for his stupid boy crush to appear.

Steve shoved the rational part of his brain away.

“You sure? It’s gonna be a tight squeeze and Wayne says I snore like a mammoth,” Eddie said, tone teasing at the end though it was evident he was genuinely concerned.

“‘s okay,” Steve mumbled, forcing himself to scoot over even as his body roared in pain. It was worth it, though, when Eddie got into bed beside him. The warmth radiating off him was more comforting to Steve than any painkiller a doctor could offer him.

He fell back asleep in seconds.

~~~

“Yeah, they think he’s going to make it,” Eddie murmured into the receiver. The cord was taut, the handset pulled far from the actual phone hold on the adjacent wall. He’d refused to leave Steve’s side, regardless of how many times the nurses had told him to do otherwise.

Robin sniffled on the other end of the line. “I can’t believe he had to go through that again, Eddie. Fuck, I thought it was all over. I thought we could go live normal lives for once. I should’ve checked in on him earlier. I’m so fucking stupid.”

“Don’t blame yourself.” Eddie tried to ignore the hypocrisy of his own statement. “He’s going to be okay, Robin, I promise. We both know Steve. He’s strong as hell. He’ll pull through.”

“He better or I’ll… I’ll…” Robin seemed to be searching for a threat, but only more sobs came through the phone. “Is he gonna have to be in a wheelchair or…?”

Eddie looked over at Steve to make sure he was still sleeping soundly before responding, “Doctor thinks he’ll just need a lot of physical therapy for the next few months. He got a lot of head trauma so they’re going to perform a ‘cranial nerve exam’ or whatever when he’s able to sit up on his own. They’ll see if he’s doing alright in that department.”

He heard Robin inhale shakily through the phone. “When can I come see him? Nancy and the kids are worried sick too.”

“I’m not sure yet, but I’ll call you as soon as I do, okay?” Eddie promised. 

There was a pause before Robin squeaked out an “okay”.

“Take care of yourself, Robin. You’re like Steve’s… platonic soulmate or something. He’ll want you to be okay too.”

“Thank you. Call soon, okay?” Robin mumbled, barely audible against the phone’s static.

“I will.”

Eddie sighed as the phone hung up, his attention returning to Steve. 

“You’re gonna pull through,” Eddie whispered, hand moving to trace circles on Steve’s shoulder. He exhaled shakily as the confession slipped out of him:

“Because I don’t know what I’ll do with myself if you don’t.”

~~~

It was happening again.

Pain struck Steve over and over again like daggers, piercing into him - his old wounds, his new wounds, goddamn everything. 

“Eddie!” he screamed, pulling against the invisible restraints that tied him back, keeping him still as the endless torment continued. “Eddie! Robin! Dustin! Fuck, anyone! Please!”

His eyes shut momentarily, stinging with the saltiness of his own tears. When they reopened, there Eddie was.

No.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

Steve yanked on the ties with all his strength, a screech of agony following alongside the sickening crunch of his wrists shattering. 

He didn’t even care.

With no regard for his own well-being, Steve forced his limp hands free and stumbled forward, landing in a helpless heap beside Eddie.

Vomit rose in his throat.

Eddie’s lifeless eyes gazed up at him, those beautiful brown irises once so full of life now extinguished. His mouth was ajar in a slight “o”, blood coating his teeth and lips. All across his body were revoltingly deep gashes - bite marks from those damned bats. They’d fucking devoured him, exposing muscle and bone. They’d taken Eddie. They’d taken his Eddie.

“Please, god, no,” Steve whispered, carefully cradling Eddie’s head and moving it so it lay in Steve’s lap. Somehow, his wrists were normal again, but he hardly registered it. His gaze stayed glued to Eddie. “No, no, Eddie. C’mon, Eds, don’t- don’t do this to me.”

His fingers raked through Eddie’s blood-matted hair, his other hand rubbing soothing circles into the cold skin of his cheek. “Wake up. You gotta wake up. I can’t fucking do this without you. I need you, Eddie. I’ve needed you ever since I met you. Please just-”

Slowly, the weight of Eddie’s corpse began to lift and before Steve’s very eyes, his body became more and more opaque. It was as though he were fading. 

“No!” Steve screamed, voice echoing in the black abyss. “Eddie!”

“Steve?”

“No, no, no, please, Eddie, please-”

“Steve?”

“I can’t- fuck, I can’t-”

“Steve!”

Steve jolted upright, immediately met with searing pain that tore throughout his body like a strike of lightning. He snapped his head around, tear-blurred eyes barely registering the sterile environment around him. Scrambling, he tried to get up, desperately needing to find Eddie.

“Stevie, hey, I’m right here.”

A warm hand on his back anchored him back to reality. 

“Eddie?” Steve turned to see the very man that’d been dead in his arms moments ago sitting beside him. His doe eyes were wide with worry, eyebrows pinched together. His curls were an absolute mess, falling all around him as though he’d just awoken from a nap. A faded band T-shirt hung loosely around his torso, revealing some of his tattoos.

Steve decided Eddie had never looked prettier.

“You were dead,” Steve breathed out, voice ragged. “The demobats got you. I wasn’t fast enough. I couldn’t- I wasn’t- shit, you were dead and it was all my fault and I-”

Eddie, sweet perfect Eddie, immediately reached forward and pulled Steve into a tight hug, holding him closer than anyone had ever bothered to hold Steve before. That realization alone sent Steve into another bout of sobs.

Calloused fingertips traced patterns up and down his back, occasionally coming up to soothingly pet the back of Steve’s head. “It was only a nightmare, sweetheart, I promise,” Eddie murmured, sounding more melodic than any music Steve had heard. “You did save me. I’m here because of you and I’m never abandoning you, got that?”

“Never,” Steve parroted, a feeble attempt at making himself believe Eddie’s words.

Eddie pulled away, leaning back and cradling Steve’s face in his palms. His thumb lifted to brush a stray tear from Steve’s cheek, holding his gaze all the while. 

“You couldn’t get rid of me even if you wanted to,” Eddie joked gently, lips twitching upwards into a little smile. 

Had they always looked so soft?

“C’mon,” Eddie said, carefully pulling Steve back down to rest in the crook of Eddie’s arm. “I know you don’t want to, but you gotta go back to sleep, a’ight? I’ll be right here the entire time. I swear on Uncle Wayne’s mug collection.”

Quite frankly too tired to protest, Steve nodded and let himself relax into Eddie’s hold. You’re safe, he reminded himself.

You’re always safe with Eds.

~~~

3 p.m. That’s when Eddie had told the shitheads to visit.

And yet, there they were at goddamn 10 a.m., clambering through the small hospital door like dogs racing out of a kennel.

“Steve! We brought-” Dustin announced, barging in like he owned the damn place. He froze mid-step, an honestly terrible idea considering the trainwreck of teenagers that slammed right into the back of him.

“Oh fucking-” was all that Eddie heard before a giant crash resounded in the small room. He lifted himself into a seated position, peering over the bed to find the entire Party in a groaning tangle of limbs on the floor.

“You asshole, why did you stop all of a sudden?” Lucas punched Dustin in the shoulder, immediately getting one of his own from Max. Even in her new blind state, she managed to shoot him a deadly glare that spoke volumes.

Dustin stood up, throwing up an accusatory hand toward Eddie. “I didn’t expect to find my two dads cuddling on a Sunday morning!”

“And I didn’t expect you all for another five hours,” Eddie retorted.

“I tried to stop them.” Nancy appeared from around the corner, carrying several grocery bags in her arms. “Max insisted she’d call her lawyer if I didn’t take them right when they wanted.”

From beside Eddie, Steve shifted, sitting up on his forearms and rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand. “She pulled that one on you too?”

“It’s discrimination against disabled people if they don’t do what me, a disabled person, asks,” Max stated as-a-matter-of-factly as she rose to her feet. El and Lucas immediately rushed to help her, but she swatted them both away. 

Mike assisted the younger Byers - Will, if Eddie remembered correctly - in standing up. “I don’t think that’s how that works,” he muttered.

“Well, I don’t care-”

Max was cut off by a shrill screech of raw joy. Robin burst into the room and zipped around the gangle of teenagers, rushing to Steve’s side and latching onto him like a koala bear. “Oh my god, you’re okay,” she whispered, barely loud enough for Eddie to hear despite being mere inches away.

“Robs,” Steve said, the relief audible in his voice. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. I promise.”

Robin straightened up from where she’d been hunched over Steve, hurriedly wiping fresh tears from her cheeks. “If you ever scare me like that again, I’ll… I’ll totally kick your ass,” she mumbled, a choked-up little laugh escaping her. 

“Don’t threaten the patient,” Nancy chastised, coming up behind Robin and taking one of her ringed hands in her smaller ones. Her voice was unusually soft and though Eddie still barely knew either of the girls, a sneaking suspicion arose within him about the state of their relationship.

“He’s a dingus.” Robin shot Steve a shaky smile. “I’ll threaten him all I want.”

“Alright, out of the way, out of the way,” Dustin announced, barging in between Robin and the bed. “Steve obviously wants to see his favorite member of the Party now.”

Steve lifted his hands defensively. “Hey, hey. I don’t choose favorites. I love all you guys equally.” Eddie knew that was total bullshit, but he smiled at Steve’s attempt to make all his kiddos feel appreciated.

“Yeah?” Mike piped up from behind Dustin. “What’s my favorite color?”

Steve immediately blanched and Eddie lifted one of his curls to his lips to hide his smile from view. Ol’ Stevie was in for it now.

“Uh…” Steve trailed off. “You know, I think these meds have been messing with my memory, so-”

Mike huffed in disbelief, glaring lightheartedly at Will when he began laughing. During their old D&D sessions, Mike had brought up Will a lot, talking about how Will ran campaigns and made characters. Back then, Eddie had found it annoying for his skills as a DM to be compared with some kid. Seeing them together, though, he was beginning to understand why Mike spoke of him so highly. 

“Mike.” Nancy’s tone held warning and, apparently not wanting to get on his sister’s bad side, Mike stopped his pouting. Seemingly content with his response, Nancy turned back to Steve. “We picked you up all your favorite snacks and candies on the way here. Max insisted that hospital food is ‘worse than anything Vecna could do’-”

“It’s true,” Max confirmed.

“- so we decided to bring you these,” Nancy finished, placing the immense amount of bags on the nearby table.

Steve thanked them and Eddie took that as his cue to slip out of the bed. He made his way to the corner of the room and just… observed. It was near fascinating how easily Steve fell back to his old self with his friends - no, family - around. It was so clear that everyone in that room loved him so deeply. It astounded Eddie that Steve couldn’t see that.

Eddie’s mind flashed back to the night he’d rescued Steve. It’d been almost two weeks, but everything was still so vivid. The blood, the screams, the death - all caused by him. The assholes deserved it, sure, but it horrified Eddie. It horrified him how easily he’d killed and how he’d relished in their pain. He still wasn’t sure what the Upside Down had turned him into, what sort of creature he’d become. He hadn’t dared tell anyone. How would they react when they found out their friend could grow fangs and claws that’d sunk into the throats of dozens of humans? How would they react if they’d seen him covered in blood, dripping with the remnants of destruction he’d caused? 

His eyes met Steve’s.

How would Steve react if he found out Eddie was a monster?

Eddie shook the thought away, trying to focus his attention on Steve - the way his lovely features lit up whenever one of the kids made a joke, the way he took time to talk to each and every one of them, the way he was so perfectly Steve when surrounded by his family.

Something occurred to Eddie at that moment. For years, he’d been foolishly crushing on “King Steve Harrington”. He was no better than all the fawning girls at Hawkins High. He’d stare at Steve when he wasn’t looking, childishly dreaming of the possibility that maybe one day Steve would notice him. Then, with all the Upside Down shit, being thrown into danger with Steve had only made his crush grow.

It dawned on him that it was no longer a crush.

It dawned on him that, against his will, Eddie had fallen deeply and ridiculously in love with Steve Harrington.

~~~

“C’mon, Stevie, you got this.”

Encouraged by Eddie’s words, Steve bit his lip in concentration as he slowly took step after step, movements assisted by the crunches supporting his armpits. He’d been bedridden for nearly two months and finally, his doctor had allowed him to start working towards walking again. 

Steve just hadn’t anticipated how hard it would be.

“You’re doing so good,” Eddie murmured. His hand had found its now-typical place on the small of Steve’s back, providing him some semblance of balance. Though he wouldn’t admit it, Steve didn’t actually need said hand - he could balance himself just fine - but the touch was comforting and it helped in its own way. Eddie’s soft words of praise in his ear were simply an… added bonus.

Slowly, but surely, Steve’s confidence grew, beginning to lurch his crutches farther forward, practically lunging himself along the hospital hallway. “I’m doing it! Fuck yeah, I’m doing it, Eddie! Soon enough, I’ll be shooting hoops again and-”

Maybe he got a little too excited.

Gravity betrayed Steve and he found himself barreling to the cold floor, limbs flailing around uselessly as his crutches clattered against the tile. His body tensed, prepared for the inevitable pain that would come with the resounding bang. It never came, however. 

Warm hands wrapped around him, and his face was awkwardly pressed against Eddie’s firm chest. The familiar scent of old weed and Wayne’s favorite detergent engulfed Steve’s senses and god, it was addicting. He stayed there for a few moments too long; if asked, he would’ve insisted it was from the shock of falling over. 

“I got you. I got you. It’s okay,” Eddie said softly, carefully lifting Steve back upright and lowering his touch to Steve’s hips, holding him steady. “Bit eager to get out of here, aren’tcha, Harrington?”

Steve hardly registered Eddie’s teasing. He whipped his head behind him, to Eddie, and back again repeatedly. Bewilderment was clear on his features. “You were behind me. How did you- there is no way you moved in front of me that fast.” 

His eyes didn’t miss the way Eddie visibly stiffened. “You know me. What I lack in strength, I make up for in dexterity. Most of my points still go to that sweet ol’ charisma though.”

Ignoring Eddie’s obscure D&D references, Steve shook his head. “No, no,” he mumbled, almost to himself. “That- that was like, inhuman. Hell, a lot of things you do can’t be explained. Like, you’ve stayed here with me for the past seven weeks and I don’t think I’ve seen you sleep once. You say it’s because you only sleep when I sleep, but then how is it that whenever I wake up, you’re always already awake?”

“Steve…” Eddie began, a warning tone lacing his voice.

“Not to mention how fast you are when it comes to literally everything,” Steve continued. “I’ll ask you to go grab me something from the vending machine, which I know damn well is two floors down from my room, and you’ll be back in two minutes!”

“Steve.”

“And, look, I know you don’t like talking about it - and that’s okay. I get it, I really do - but how did you save my ass from the Russians? There were dozens of them, Eddie. All armed to the teeth. Don’t get me wrong; I think you’re strong and badass as fuck, but how could you have taken down that many men single-handedly? It’s- it’s impossible! There’s just-”

The hands left Steve’s waist and moved to scoop him up, one under his thighs and the other under his back. To his mortification, Eddie was carrying him bridal-style. 

Before Steve could protest, Eddie was zooming - literally zooming - to their hospital room. As soon as he was picked up, Steve was put down again, and placed onto the too-hard mattress of his bed.

“What the hell?” Steve spluttered out.

“Steve.” Eddie’s voice was quiet, but firm, a subtextual demand for Steve’s full attention. “I’m going to answer your questions, alright? I would never lie to you. If what I tell you angers you, upsets you, disgusts you - anything - that’s okay. I get it. I’ll leave and you won’t have to hear from my ass ever again.”

Steve stared at him incredulously. “I’d never-”

“Just…” Eddie inhaled sharply, looking down before bringing his gaze back to Steve’s. “Just listen, okay?”

“... Okay.”

Eddie sat down beside Steve, fiddling with his rings. “I haven’t told anyone this,” he prefaced, momentarily sucking in his bottom lip. “I didn’t know how they’d react. I didn’t know how you’d react. Hell, I still don’t, but I figured you deserve to know.”

Worry seeping into his heart, Steve moved his hands from his lap to intertwine with Eddie’s. He didn’t miss the little smile that it earned. 

“After you rescued me from the Upside Down, everything felt… different. Not like ‘wow, I almost just got eaten alive and that took a toll on my body’ different, either,” Eddie tried to joke. “I didn’t really feel hungry anymore. I knew I hadn’t eaten in days, but the hospital food didn’t taste like anything. Even when you and Nance brought me my favorite snacks, they just tasted like… textured air, I guess. I never felt tired either. God, I should’ve felt tired. I got fuckin’ destroyed by those bat bastards, but my body just… didn’t wanna rest. Then there was the whole pain thing. The doctors warned me that when they weaned me off the painkillers, shit would hurt like crazy, but it never really did. There was an ache, of course, but it wasn’t excruciating like they’d predicted it’d be.

“A few weeks after I got discharged, I began getting these… cravings, I guess. They were for meat, which was weird as fuck. I never really liked meat before. My dad was a big meat-lover and I guess I didn’t want to be like him, so I- that… that doesn’t matter. Anyways, I began eating raw steaks and shit obsessively. ‘Did it behind Uncle Wayne’s back because I knew it was weird, but I couldn’t help it. Around that time is when the uh- when the fangs came out.”

He turned to Steve, who only met him with the softest gaze. The prospect of fangs did surprise Steve, but he refused to let that show on his face. He’d support Eddie no matter what. 

“Can I see?” Steve asked quietly.

Surprise flitted across Eddie’s face. He swallowed and nodded quickly. "Yeah… yeah, Stevie, of course you can see." 

Eddie opened his mouth and Steve watched in awe as four canines extended from Eddie's gums, two on top and two on the bottom. They made a soft shing sound of bone scraping against bone; the fangs came up over Eddie's natural canines, a strange second set of teeth that bracketed his incisors. Steve silently mused that they were more wolf-like than vampire-like. They were large and thick, clearly meant for ripping into flesh rather than just making a slight incision. 

For some reason, that thought made a delightful shudder run up Steve's spine.

"These are fucking awesome, holy shit," Steve breathed, reaching up, but faltering. His eyes flickered up to Eddie's, searching them for permission. When Eddie gave him an affirmative dip of his head, Steve let his fingers fall on the natural weapons. He felt Eddie shiver underneath his touch.

"'ey are't tha' coo'," Eddie said with difficulty, jaws still hanging open so Steve could curiously inspect them.

Steve stared at Eddie in disbelief and drew back. "Dude, you're like- a superhero. Like the Wolverine or something!" Realizing what he said, Steve quickly backtracked. "Not that I read that nerdy shit or anything. Dustin just talks about-"

"It's okay to like comics, Steve." Eddie tried to stifle his amusement. "But uh, I'm not a hero. 'Never was and never will be."

"'You serious?" Steve waited, and Eddie's lack of response was answer enough. "You literally saved all of Hawkins. You saved Dustin. Fuck, you saved me." 

In more ways than you'll ever know, Steve wanted to add. 

Eddie tilted his head back, running a hand through his hair in an anxious habit Steve had learned to recognize. "Heroes don't kill people. They don't tear out throats with their fucking teeth or splay people's goddamn guts across the walls. They don't show up to save people covered in blood." Eddie's voice was rising, anger evident in his tone. Anger towards himself, Steve realized. "Heroes get celebrated. They get love and adoration. If anyone saw my fangs? Hell," - he let out a humorless laugh - "they'd put me down like a goddamn mutt." 

"Well, fuck them then," Steve shot out before he could hesitate, "because you are the most fucking selfless and loving human being I have ever met. You've been hurt over and over again by people - your dad, the shithead bullies at school that once included me, and the whole town at one point. They treated you like shit. The world treated you like shit. And what did you do? You just met them with that goddamn beautiful grin. You found love for anyone. You took those scrappy little kids in and cared for them. You spend hours on hours crafting perfect D&D sessions for them. They idolize you. They love you."

Steve saw tears prickling in the corners of Eddie's eyes and it was only then he realized that he, too, was crying. "You offered kindness to Chrissy when she came to you, even though her boyfriend tormented you every single fucking day. She came to you for drugs, but you gave her laughter and compassion. You didn't have to do that, but you did. Because you're you, Eddie. You are so perfectly you and goddamnit, I love you for that."

Eddie's eyes widened a little at Steve's accidental confession, but Steve couldn't give a shit. If Eddie rejected him, so be it. He needed to know how much Steve absolutely adored him. 

"And most surprising of all, you offered your care to me," Steve croaked, fighting down the sob that threatened to escape him. "I treated you so fucking badly. I might not have said much directly to you, but I stood by while Tommy H. and the others verbally and sometimes physically hurt you. I let you go through hell. Yet, you still protected me back during all that Vecna shit. You had my back when I never had yours. Then, when all that was over, you invited me over for the occasional weed hangout. You talked to me like I'd been your friend for years. You made me feel so seen." 

Steve licked the tears away from his lips and he could've sworn he saw Eddie look down at them. Shakily, he continued, "Eds, I owe my life to you. Not just because you saved me from the demobats or even from those fucking Russian assholes. You saved me from myself. Your jokes pulled me out of the god-awful thoughts constantly in my head, memories of real shitty times. Your smile reminded me that there was still good in this world. I owe it all to you. My everything."

Breath rapid from the extensive ramble, Steve's eyes flickered up to meet Eddie's, searching for something - anything. 

"God, I fucking love you," was all Eddie said before he moved his hands to cup Steve's cheeks and his lips met his.

Oh.

Steve stilled into the kiss for a brief moment, surprise overtaking him. Thankfully, his brain kicked back into gear soon enough and he was kissing Eddie back with fervor. He tried to convey every emotion into the touch that his stumbling words couldn't. 

It must've worked because the passion of the kiss heightened. All he could feel was Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. The feeling of his lips memorizing Steve's, the scent of old smoke and pine from that cologne he adored, the little whispers of "I love you, I love you, I love you" when they parted for breath - it was everything Steve had hoped for. 

Steve was about to break away to speak when Eddie deepened the kiss further. That wasn't what shocked him, however. It was the sudden pin-prick of sharpness against his cheeks. 

"Shit," Eddie cursed under his breath, moving back. Steve's eyes fluttered open and he immediately found the culprit of the sensation: large blackened claws had emerged from Eddie's fingernails.

Eddie flushed. "I am so, so sorry. I thought I had control of-"

"You have claws?" Steve exclaimed, mouth agape. "Holy shit, you are Wolverine!"

"I- what?" Eddie paused for a moment and then burst into a fit of laughter. 

"Can you do other things? Can you fly? Oh my god, do you have laser eyes?!" Steve asked in a flurry, only causing Eddie to devolve into absolute cackles.

"It's not funny, Eddie; I'm seriously asking!" Steve complained, though his bright smile betrayed his attempts at appearing upset. 

"God, Harrington, you…" Eddie wheezed out, finally beginning to catch his breath, "are a riot. I could get used to this."

Steve's smile widened. "So, does this mean I can take you out for a date?" he asked, putting on all his old King Harrington charm.

Shooting him a lopsided grin, Eddie leaned back against the bed, propping his head up in a dramatic fashion. "I don't know, Steve. You haven't truly wooed me yet."

Steve practically pounced on him.

"I'm sure some wooing can be arranged." Steve murmured, delighting in the loving gaze he received.

"As much as I'd love that," - Eddie sat up, propping himself on his elbows and giving Steve a peck on the forehead - "you need to learn how to walk again first. Then, you can take me on that date. 'We got a deal, sweetheart?"

Steve beamed.

"Deal." 

[midnight-fauna]

i'll make the moon shine (just for your view)

A/N: Originally posted on my Ao3 under "TheExtrovertOutcast". Day 4 was skipped.

Pairings: Nancy Wheeler/Robin Buckley

Chapter: 1/1

Word Count: 2393

Summary: The Spiderman AU, but make it Ronance.

Ronancetober Day 5: Multiverse

Nancy Wheeler was many things, but a coward was not one of them.

Torrents of wind whipped against her, throwing her curls awry, strands slapping against her cold-bit cheeks. Her eyes strained to stay open amidst the dust the storm was kicking up. They barely managed to track the streak of red leaping from building to building. Spiderman, the newspapers were calling him. Seemingly out of nowhere, the masked vigilante had appeared in New York City, stopping crimes left and right. He was a mystery, simply put.

And Nancy adored a good mystery.

Despite her father’s demands that she stay out of trouble, Nancy had snuck around the police tape to watch Spiderman’s latest act of heroism. With agility that no normal human could perform, he dodged and weaved around cars, web-like strands keeping him steady. 

“Get him, Spiderman!” someone from the growing crowd shouted, gesturing wildly to the armed robbers. The hero had already taken down two of the thieves and was making his way to the other three who were scrambling to keep their duffels of money whilst attempting to scale a rickety apartment building. 

Curiosity getting the better of her, Nancy sprinted back behind the rows of police. She ducked through the crowd, trying to blend in so she didn’t catch Ted Wheeler’s watchful gaze. He wasn’t a very good police chief and sure as hell wasn’t a wonderful father, but she swore he had eyes like a hawk. 

“Nance, what the hell are you-” Steve’s voice caught her attention and she turned to see him to her left, hands on his hips. Jesus Christ, it was not the time for her to be running into her ex.

Glaring at him purposefully, Nancy rose a finger to her lips before dropping it, drawing it in a line across her neck. Steve paled, immediately getting the message: you tell anyone I was here and you’re dead.

She pushed her way through the onslaught of civilians, finally making her way to the other side, much closer to where Spiderman was closing in on the robbers. If she could just get one picture, she could prove to her dad that she was capable of being more than just a wannabe journalist.

Nancy’s hands found her camera, nestled comfortably inside its case. She pulled it out, turned it on, and aimed. 

Spiderman shot a web at one of the thieves, dislodging the brute’s gun from his hand and sending it clattering to the concrete beneath one of the apartment’s patios. Another web came from Spiderman’s opposite wrist, locking onto the thief’s torso and trapping him against the wall. Nancy snapped pictures wildly, not giving a shit if some were blurry or dark. That could be fixed later.

“Get the other one!” another voice sounded from the crowd. Nancy’s eyes followed the direction of the citizen’s pointed finger to land on the second robber, rushing up the emergency ladder with the duffel’s strap in between his yellowed teeth. Nancy hesitated, finger resting just above the shutter. Weren’t there three-

A hand yanked her by the hair from behind, sending her barreling into the all-too-warm back of a broad chest. 

“Spiderboy!” the man roared, gruff voice painfully loud in Nancy’s ear. The sensation was soon forgotten, though, replaced by the cold metal of a gun pressed against her skull. “You let us go all peaceful like or I shoot!”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Nancy’s heart was a jackrabbit in her chest, threatening to shatter her ribs at any second. The putrid odor of the man’s sweat engulfed her and she wasn’t sure if it was that or the fear making her eyes water. 

To her surprise, Spiderman turned to face the two of them and lifted his hands in the air in a show of peace. He said nothing; he just… watched.

The hilt of the pistol rammed into the side of her head, surely leaving a bruise. “On your knees!” the burglar yelled.

Spiderman was still. 

“I said, on your fuckin’ knees!” The thief snaked his hand up Nancy’s front, beefy hands grabbing her throat hard enough to make her gag.

“Nancy!” Her father’s voice reached her ears and, in any other circumstance, she would’ve rolled her eyes. It really took him that long to notice. 

To Nancy’s dismay, Spiderman still hadn’t moved.

Oh god, he was going to let her die. 

“I’ll say this one more time!” The robber was physically bristling with anger. “On. Your. Knees.”

Finally, Spiderman spoke. His voice came out scratchy and robotic like there was a voice filter within his mask.

“Sorry, sir, I only get down on my knees for pretty girls.”

Spiderman’s hand flung up, a web-shooting from his wrist and connecting to a street lamp above Nancy and her captor. The vigilante’s other hand shot forward, more web emerging and grabbing onto Nancy’s forearm. In an instant, she was yanked forward as the street lamp came crashing down, hitting the robber in the back of the neck and sending him face-first into the pavement. She barely had time to register what had happened before she was in Spiderman’s arms. 

“Shit, shit, shit, oh fuck- shit, what just- I-” Nancy rambled out, clinging onto Spiderman for dear life as he lunged the two into the air, scaling the neighboring building like it was nothing.

“I got you, it’s okay. You’re safe,” Spiderman said, voice audibly gentle even through the filter. “‘Just gonna get you away from those assholes, alright?”

The two landed on the roof of the building and even when Spiderman’s legs hit the concrete, Nancy didn’t dare let go. Her eyes were screwed shut and her breath was coming out in raggedy gasps. 

“Hey, hey, come on, it’s all over,” Spiderman murmured and she felt his hand awkwardly come around to pat her on the back. She instantly relaxed into the touch and slowly, the unfamiliar pats turned into soothing strokes. “Can you stand? Are you hurt anywhere?”

“Yeah, I’m… fine,” Nancy exhaled shakily, taking a step back on wobbly knees. “Thank you.”

Nancy could hear the grin in Spiderman’s tone as he crouched down, forearms resting on his thighs. “‘Don’t mention it, Na- citizen! Don’t mention it, Ms. Citizen! It’s uh, it’s all in a day’s work!” He laughed awkwardly and Nancy smiled. It was kind of endearing.

“I uh- I gotta go beat up some bad guys. You know, hero stuff… or… whatever,” Spiderman choked out, gesturing over his shoulder.

“Really, thank you,” Nancy said sincerely, reaching forward and placing her hand on Spiderman’s knee. “You saved my life.”

Spiderman froze, staring at her hand for a long moment before clearing his throat, and standing up to his full height. “Yeah- um, yeah- of course.”

He paused for a moment as if going to say something more. He quickly shook it off and gave Nancy a salute. “See you around, I guess?” he said, and with that, he dived off the building. Nancy lurched forward and rushed to the edge. A smile spread across her face when she saw him gliding down a telephone pole.

He’d be a perfect mystery.

~~~

It’d been three months since Spiderman had saved her ass.

During that time, her father had become even more dead-set on hunting him down. Every night at dinner, he’d gesture angrily, going on about whatever new deed Spiderman had done.

“We can’t just have lunatics dressed up in pajamas saving the city!” Ted would shout, food spewing from his open mouth. “All he’s doing is causing trouble! He gets in the police’s way and causes a ruckus! Do you know how much of our taxpaying dollars go to fixing up all the shit he breaks?!”

She’d long since resigned to sitting quietly at dinner, picking at her food and ignoring her father’s rants. The first few nights after being saved, she’d tried to convince him that Spiderman had in fact saved her, but Ted wouldn’t hear any of it. If anything, it just made it harder for her to go out on her own alone anymore. 

Nancy always managed, though.

Every night, she’d climb up onto her apartment complex’s roof. She told herself that she simply needed the fresh air and she just wanted a nice place to read. It certainly wasn’t out of hope for getting a glance of Spiderman. Certainly not. 

Her fingers leafed through her latest copy of Sherlock Holmes. The stories would usually hold her in a trance, scanning each page like she was a detective herself. Lately, though, they seemed almost boring. What good was reading about someone else’s tales when she had her own to experience?

“Whatcha reading?”

Nancy nearly leaped out of her own skin, whirling around to find none other than Spiderman behind her. He was perched upside down on one of the covered wires hanging above the roof. He instantly tensed at Nancy’s reaction.

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s alright,” Nancy interrupted, smoothing down her pajama shirt and taking a deep breath. “I didn’t… expect to see you again.”

Spiderman swung a little on the wire, hands fidgeting with the rubber covering. “I just happened to be in the neighborhood. Y’know, scouting out for trouble and stuff.”

“How heroic of you,” Nancy said teasingly, setting her book down and walking over to him. “I must warn you though. If my dad sees you here, you’re going to be in deep shit.”

Spiderman cocked his head to the side. “I think I’ll manage,” he responded, artificial voice imitating Nancy’s teasing lilt. 

“So, who is Spiderman?” Nancy inquired, raising an eyebrow. “What’s your story?”

“Well, you see, there was this horrible accident with acid in the sewers and now I have superpowers,” Spiderman said dramatically. “I simply have to wear this mask. What would New York do if they knew a turtle was saving their asses?”

Nancy hummed, playing along. “You wouldn’t happen to like pizza, would you?”

An exaggerated gasp left Spiderman’s voice filter. One hand left the wire to splay across his chest. “Who told you my deepest secret?!”

“Do you have a turtle voice too, then?” Nancy asked, gesturing to Spiderman’s mouth. “Pray tell, what does a turtle’s voice sound like?”

Spiderman was silent and Nancy took it as an opportunity. She stepped forward, mere inches away from the vigilante. Slowly, she moved her hands up and, when Spiderman didn’t flinch, she tucked her fingers underneath Spiderman’s mask and pulled down. A tender smile greeted her, lips pink and strong jaw devoid of stubble. 

Refusing to give herself a moment more to hesitate, Nancy reached forward, connecting Spiderman’s lips with hers. He kissed gently, much more so than any of the men she’d ever been with before. The others always kissed like they were hungry, like a kiss was just a means to an end to get to sex. This kiss was so much different. It felt like longing and love and realization. It felt like warmth and sacrifice and home. 

Nancy broke away and laughed at herself. “You, er, you have nice lips for a boy.”

The lips in question perked upwards in a grin.

“Who said I was a boy, Nancy Wheeler?”

Shock flooded Nancy. Without the voice changer, “Spiderman’s” voice was so incredibly different. Gone was the robotic crackle and the deep tone. Instead, the voice was light and feminine, still having a addictive rasp to it. She knew that voice.

“Robin Buckley?”

Robin leaped down, crouching in front of Nancy for a moment before standing up. She pulled her mask off and there she was. Her freckles were like stars peppering her flushed face. Her eyes shone with something Nancy could only describe as raw happiness. Her hair was messy in an almost puppy-like way. 

How had Nancy never noticed how beautiful she was before?

“How- you-” Nancy blurted, immediately covering her mouth for a few moments before trying again. “Robin, I saw you trip over your own shoes constantly in freshman year. You play in the school band. How are you-”

“What? You didn’t believe my spectacular acid spill story?” Robin asked, beaming from ear to ear. 

Nancy shook her head, laughing. “So, you’ve been letting the newspapers call you Spiderman this entire time?”

“Yep!” Robin chirped, twirling the mask on her finger. “Mom always said I have a ‘boyish’ body, so hell, might as well embrace it, right?”

It finally hit Nancy in that moment what had just happened. “I kissed you. Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t-”

“You didn’t know I was a girl,” Robin sighed, running her free hand through her hair. “Sorry, I should’ve, um, said something. This doesn’t make you gay or anything, don’t worry. You didn’t know. You thought I was a boy so uhm, I think you’re like, excused from homosexuality? Maybe? I don’t know. I just-”

“Robin?”

“Yeah?” Robin’s voice cracked slightly and, to Nancy’s surprise, she saw genuine fear in Robin’s eyes. 

“Did you want to kiss me?”

Robin sucked in her lower lip, biting at it nervously before answering, “Nance, everyone at school knows I’m a lesbian and you’re like- the prettiest girl in New York. How could I not have wanted that?”

That was enough for Nancy. “If you’re okay with it and I’m okay with it, I don’t see the problem.”

“I know it’s weird and I- wait, what?”

“I’m okay with the fact that you kissed me. And, honestly? I’d be okay if you did it again,” Nancy breathed out. She’d always known she wasn’t entirely straight ever since she stared just a little bit too much at the heroines on TV as a kid. She never thought she’d actually get an opportunity to act on those feelings, though. She’d be an idiot to miss this opportunity. 

“Really?”

“Really.” 

Robin reached forward and kissed Nancy again. One hand cupped her cheek and the other dipped to hold her waist. The second time wasn’t gentle, but it still held so much. It was as though Robin was trying to communicate every single thing she couldn’t put into words into one kiss. 

And Nancy understood. 

They broke away after several moments and Nancy’s heart jumped at the stunning smile painting Robin’s face. She watched as Robin pulled back on her mask and offered Nancy her hand.

“Do you want to go on adventure, Nance?”

[midnight-fauna]

pretty girl (i'll wear a skirt for you)

A/N: Originally posted on my Ao3 under "TheExtrovertOutcast"

Pairings: Nancy Wheeler/Robin Buckley

Chapter: 1/1

Word Count: 1762

Summary: Nancy dresses up Robin for Pennhurst. Robin does the same.

Ronancetober Day 3: Body/Style Swap

“Academic scholar? She’s giving you an academic scholar vibe? Yeah,” Steve asked, gesturing accusingly to Robin with a raise of his eyebrows. Robin glared at him, shutting the music box in her hands with a small thud and placing it back on the dresser. 

You’re just mad I stole your girl, Robin said with her gaze, boring deep into Steve’s. His eyes immediately widened defensively.

I am not! Steve mouthed back, understanding what Robin meant without her even having to save a word. 

“No, but,” Nancy said, interrupting the two’s mental conversation, “she will.”

Robin looked over to see Nancy proudly holding the most ridiculously feminine dress she’d ever seen. It was a blush shade of pink and absolutely covered in frills. From her spot on the other side of the bedroom, Robin could already tell how uncomfortable and itchy the fabric would be on her skin. “Oh… please tell me that you’re joking,” Robin groaned. 

~~~

Unfortunately for Robin, Nancy was not joking. 

Robin eyed the dress with disgust as Nancy took the seat beside her on the bed. Steve had left the room, finally allowing the girls a taste of privacy. It was the only upside to the whole ordeal. 

“Robs, come on, it’ll just be for a few hours,” Nancy reasoned, taking Robin’s hand in hers and placing their intertwined fingers in her lap. Since the shitshow at Starcourt Mall, the two girls had begun to get to know each other better. Once winter had rolled around, a Christmas movie night had left the girls a little too close to one another. Nancy had reached up and kissed the whipped cream off Robin’s lip and the two had been history ever since. 

“That thing” - Robin pointed at the dress - “is going to suffocate me.” 

Nancy raised an eyebrow. “So, you have a problem with a dress collar but not my hands around your-”

“Nance!” Robin interrupted her, her face reddening immediately. 

Laughing, Nancy stood up, hoisting Robin up with her. “C’mon. As much as I adore seeing you in your suits, misogyny requires you wear a dress so we can meet with Creel.” 

At that, Robin’s face lit up, causing Nancy’s to immediately scrunch up with suspicion. She knew Robin only got that look when she was planning something. 

A delighted grin spread across her lips, Robin rushed over to her backpack and began rustling through it. “If I have to wear that cocoon of death-”

“That’s a bit dramatic.” 

“- I think it’s only fair you try on some of my clothes.” Robin emerged with a handful of denim and flannel. “Deal?”

“Robs, we have to go soon-”

“You can change right back, ‘promise,” Robin insisted, hands raised in a show of sincerity. “It’ll be fun! It’s like… a style swap! Freaky Friday but just with our clothes!”

“Freaky… Friday…?”

Robin gasped dramatically. “You haven’t seen Freaky Friday?! Nance, that’s a classic! That’s it - after we kill this demonic motherfucker, I’m absolutely forcing you to watch it.” 

“Fine, we can… do a freaky Friday… whatever the hell that means,” Nancy said, feigning annoyance, but her little smile broke the facade. 

Robin squealed excitedly, clapping her hands together and hopping around the bedroom. She rushed up to Nancy and gave her a peck on the lips. “You first, your majesty.” 

With a huff, Nancy began slipping off her sweater vest. She let it fall to her mattress, starting on the buttons of her collared shirt. Robin couldn’t help but stare in awe, watching her girlfriend like it was the very first time all over again. 

“Keep looking at me like that, Robs, and we might not be back downstairs for another two hours,” Nancy said calmly. Robin immediately flushed at the words, covering her face with her large hands. Her rings were cold against her hot skin. 

“I wouldn’t be entirely opposed to that,” Robin mumbled, peeking between her fingers.

Nancy turned back and smiled at her, walking to the closet and hanging up both the shirt and the vest. “Trust me, I would love nothing more, but unfortunately it’s on us to save the world once again.” 

Robin forced her gaze away as Nancy shimmied out of her skirt, knowing damn well looking would be all too much for her and she’d be a wreck the entire time at the asylum. She expected that having a gay panic over her “colleague” wouldn’t be the best impression for the facility director.

She heard the rustle of fabric and turned back around to see Nancy in her torn jeans, bending down to roll the too-long pant legs up to her ankles. A little inhale lodged in Robin’s throat at the sight. 

“Nancy Wheeler, you’re gonna be the death of me,” Robin confessed. 

“I know.” Nancy came over to Robin, looking up at her with her doe eyes as she shouldered on the oversized flannel, only buttoning two-thirds of the way up. It left the pale skin of her throat and upper chest exposed, a stark contrast to the plaid, dark blue fabric. “I take great pleasure in that, trust me.” 

All self-control left Robin’s system at that point, leaning down and capturing Nancy’s lips in hers. Her stomach fluttered at the little groan that arose from her girlfriend, muffled by their kiss. It was near-dizzying the way every time she kissed Nancy, it felt like their first. A part of her brain still couldn’t wrap around the fact that the Nancy Wheeler, the most beautiful girl in Hawkins, was her girlfriend. She chose Robin. She saw past all of Robin’s awkwardness and clumsiness and chose her.

A soft, manicured hand slid up the nape of Robin’s neck, teasingly tugging at sensitive strands. Nancy’s other hand moved down to grip the cloth of Robin’s striped shirt, pulling her down closer. God, Nancy was a whole five foot four and still had Robin completely and utterly under her control. 

“Please,” Robin begged into the kiss, nearly fucking whimpering when Nancy pulled away, a smug smile tugging at her lips.

“Your turn,” Nancy murmured. She stood on her tiptoes, grip still clutching onto Robin’s collar. Robin could hear the amusement in her voice when she whispered, “I get to see you be a pretty girl for me, Robs.”

That was all the motivation Robin needed. 

She practically leaped out of her clothes. Her whole goddamn body seemed to alight with a blush when she caught Nancy staring unashamedly. 

“Your freckles are so pretty, sweetheart. You really are my whole galaxy, aren’t you?” Nancy’s eyes flicked up to meet Robin’s, who could only nod quickly, at a loss for words. How the hell was she supposed to reply to a compliment that beautiful?

Nancy picked up the dress, smoothing her palm over the top to rid it of any lingering wrinkles. “C’mere, let me help you.”

Robin obeyed without question, standing in front of Nancy and carefully using her shoulders as support as she stepped her legs into the dress. Her breath caught in her throat as Nancy dragged the fabric up, fingertips tracing her bare skin as she went. The gentleness was still foreign to Robin and a small part of her wanted to burst into sobs. Nancy treated her with unbelievable tenderness, slipping on the dress’s straps and carefully turning her around so she could pull up the zipper. She turned Robin back around and clasped the buttons in the front before stepping back and looking at her in awe. 

“My pretty girl,” Nancy murmured, almost only to herself. 

Robin stuffed down her ego and did a little twirl for Nancy’s sake. It was immediately worth it when she heard the melodic sound of Nancy’s delighted laugh. 

“Jesus Christ, it’s… uh, it’s definitely breezy,” Robin noted, awkwardly sitting down on the bed and tucking the skirt down around her. 

Nancy laughed again, crossing the room and grabbing a bag. “Well, your flannel is actually quite comfy. I quite like this switch.” 

“It looks better on you, anyway,” Robin said sincerely, breath hitching when Nancy clambered into her lap, knees on either side of Robin’s thighs. “Oh, uh, shit, hey… there?”

Amusement sparked in Nancy’s warm eyes. “Hey. Mind if I put some makeup on you?”

“Keep calling me your pretty girl and shit, Nance, you can do anything to me,” Robin rasped, voice cracking at her girlfriend’s name. She was a complete mess. 

Nancy kissed Robin’s forehead. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Holy shit. 

Placing the pouch to the side, Nancy began rummaging through it, emerging with a large makeup brush and a peach-colored container. She opened it to reveal packed-down powder. Robin’s makeup knowledge didn’t extend much farther than mascara, so she eyed it with curiosity. 

“Blush,” Nancy answered for her. “I was considering foundation, but it’d be a crime to accidentally cover up any of your freckles.”

Robin relaxed completely when the touch of fluffy bristles caressed her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned into Nancy’s touch, moving one hand to mindlessly play with her girlfriend’s curls. She felt heavenly as Nancy continued to do her makeup, letting herself completely submit to the simple commands - “hollow your cheeks”, “part your lips for me”, “hold still” - and the following praises - “such a good girl for me, Robs”, “so pretty”, “you’re doing so well”. 

She didn’t even realize how much time had passed until Nancy was gently nudging her shoulder. “Robin? Baby? Hey, you okay?”

“I’m wonderful,” Robin mumbled hazily, feeling completely safe and loved with Nancy so close to her. She reached forward to kiss Nancy, but a gentle grip on her chin stopped her. 

“Mm-mm.” Nancy shook her head. “You can’t kiss me right now, Robs. I put lipstick on you.”

“Nevermind, I’m actually on the brink of death,” Robin groaned dramatically, flopping onto her back, taking Nancy down with her, who immediately burst into a fit of giggles. 

“Hey, I still have to get changed too,” Nancy complained light-heartedly, hitting Robin’s arm with no real strength behind it. “Let me up.”

Robin closed her eyes again, smiling deviously as she held Nancy close to her chest. “Nope. You’re mine now. The world can save its own ass.” 

Both of them knew that Nancy was quite strong and could easily pull herself out of the hold, but she didn’t. It made Robin’s stomach flutter. 

“Fine, two minutes of cuddling,” Nancy said, placing a kiss on Robin’s jaw. 

“Ten,” Robin countered. 

“Three.”

“Eight.”

“Four.”

“Seven.”

“Five.”

“Six.” 

Nancy chuckled, burying her face into the crook of Robin’s neck. 

“Alright, Robs, six minutes.” 

[midnight-fauna]

i'm alone (i'm home)

A/N: Originally posted on my Ao3 under "TheExtrovertOutcast"

Pairings: Nancy Wheeler/Robin Buckley

Chapter: 1/1

Word Count: 2379

Summary: Robin finds Nancy as she begins to turn into a werewolf.

Ronancetober Day 2: Vampire/Werewolf

The changes had been subtle at first. 

It didn’t strike Nancy as odd that she suddenly preferred her meat a little more on the rare side. She didn’t worry when she began to develop an allergy to silver. Hell, she hadn’t even questioned it when her shaving sessions had to become more frequent. Puberty, she’d figured.

It wasn’t until the first full moon after the disastrous events of Hawkins Lab that shit became all too real. 

Two years later, she still hadn’t told anyone. 

Who the fuck would believe a demodog from Hell itself had turned her into a monster?

~~~

Nancy had completely and utterly screwed up. 

Stupid, stupid, she thought, curled up into a ball on the floor of the bathroom. How could you have forgotten? How the hell did you forget to track the lunar cycle?

She knew how. All the chaos with Vecna in the past week had her mind rattled, despite everything being (assumedly) over. It didn’t help that during that time, she’d developed a strange, but undoubtedly huge crush on the very girl whose house she was in: Robin goddamn Buckley. 

Robin had invited Nancy over for a relaxing movie night, claiming it was well-deserved after saving the world once again. Nancy, lost in the delusions of pining, had immediately accepted. She hadn’t realized the mistake she’d made until, sitting beside Robin in front of the old television, her senses had peaked and sharp fangs pricked at her lip. 

“Uh, hey, I have to… use the restroom,” Nancy had said, awkwardly standing up and biting back the yelp that threatened to escape her, feeling her bones prepare for the awful shift.

Robin’s eyebrow had raised, but she hadn’t pushed for details. “Yeah, no worries! I’ll pause the movie. It’s down the hall, third door on your left.” 

Nancy had mumbled out a quick ‘thank you’, rushing down the corridor and slipping into the small bathroom, locking the door behind her. Her head had been spinning and nausea had coiled in her stomach. 

It’d been nearly twenty minutes since she’d left Robin.

Everything felt heightened. She could taste the dust in the air like it was in her own mouth. Her ears, slowly shaping into that of a wolf’s, detected it all: the buzz of the fan above her, the TV static in the hall, Robin’s goddamn heartbeat. Fuck, that was the worst of it all. Even on the opposite side of the home, Nancy could sense the entirety of Robin. It was addicting. The sweet smell of Robin’s shampoo held Nancy in a chokehold, the tantalizing scent of coconut and vanilla enrapturing her. Underneath that, there was a hint of jasmine, a perfume Robin had put on one… no, two hours earlier. Nancy didn’t even know how she knew that. 

After her first shift back in 1984, Nancy had done extensive research on monsters and had eventually come across an old article Hawkins Lab had published almost two decades earlier. She’d deduced that the canine DNA they’d shot into those horrific demodogs had entered her bloodstream when she’d been bit. The DNA seemed to rise to the surface during full moons, triggered by some sort of lunar pull. Thankfully, it didn’t her into a demodog, only a wolfish creature that made up part of the monsters’ being. The change was agonizing and happened one night per lunar cycle without fail. It’d been a punch in the gut to Nancy, at the time, to realize she was, in fact, the standard definition of a fucking werewolf. 

“Nance? Hey, you okay?” 

Robin’s voice jolted Nancy from her thoughts and she physically had to bite down the growl that rose up in her throat. Shit, shit, shit. Robin couldn’t see her like this. No one could. 

“Yeah… yeah… I’m just…” Nancy mumbled for words, cursing herself for it. Her eyes scanned the bathroom, landing on a small window above the toilet. If she could get to it before she fully shifted, her normally-small frame could probably make it through.

“Oh, is it, uh, is it girl problems?” Robin asked from behind the locked door, voice cracking at the last bit. “There’s some pads under the sink. I don’t really use tampons, but if you do, I can uh- I can go up to my mom’s bathroom, maybe? I think she has some and I could-”

Nancy didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at Robin’s gentle, caring nature, coming out in frantic rambles. She shook her head before realizing the other girl obviously couldn’t see the movement. “It’s not that, Robs. I’m okay, really. I just-”

Her sentence was cut off by a sharp snap in her left femur, her body forcing it backwards in a more canine-like fashion. The fracture was loud, but the scream that left Nancy was deafening. 

Fuck, not like this. Not now. Please. 

“Nancy?!” Robin shouted, voice muffled by the wood separating them. “Jesus Christ, Nance, what’s going on?” The doorknob jiggled wildly and Robin pounded on the door. “Nancy? Nancy, please open up, oh my god.”

“I- can’t-” Nancy choked out before her other leg followed suit, cracking back behind her in a swift motion. Another agonizing sob erupted out of her, echoing against the tiled walls. 

Robin shook the door frantically. “No, no, not Vecna. That motherfucker is supposed to be dead! He can’t have you, Nance. He can’t have you. I won’t let him. I won’t-”

Tears rolled down Nancy’s reddening cheeks, heat against heat. Robin didn’t deserve to see her like this. She wanted Robin to know her as Nancy Wheeler, a put-together girl with absolutely no monstrous secret. The image of Robin staring at Nancy in shock, in disgust, was so much more excruciating than the rapid changing of her body.

“Nancy, please, God, please, if you can still hear me, open the door! I’m gonna save you. I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you,” Robin pleaded, having resorted to full on kicking at the door, the wood frame rattling shakily at its hinges. “I’m not losing you! I’m not fucking losing you, Nancy!” 

With that, the door emitted a low groan before it caved, smashing down to the tiled floor inches away from Nancy’s huddled form. She snapped her head up and met Robin’s gaze.

No.

No, no, no.

Robin stared at her in shock, taking in Nancy’s ragdoll legs, sprawled out beside her. Her eyes lifted to take in Nancy’s bloodshot, golden irises and her wolf-like ears slowly protruding from Nancy’s skull. She saw the fangs after that and goddamnit, Nancy could hear her sharp inhale piercing the air like a bullet. 

“This… this isn’t Vecna…” Robin whispered, hands visibly quivering. “Nance, I-”

“Get the hell away from me!” Nancy yelled, leaping to her feet, her canine legs stumbling from lack of use. She glared at Robin and bared her teeth, an attempt to frighten her, in hopes she’d leave Nancy alone and not make all this worse than it was.

Robin flinched, the simple motion making Nancy want to burst into another round of sobs. She hated this - hated herself so fucking much. 

“I said, get the fuck out of here!” Nancy managed between pants, her body struggling to stay upright as her feet contracted, lengthening into grotesque claws. 

To her dismay, Robin took a careful step forward, hands raised in a gesture of peace. “Nance, whatever this is, I can help. I can-”

“You can’t do shit!” Nancy hissed out, backing up into the corner of the room like a wounded animal. “I deserve this. I deserve this Hell, but you fucking don’t, so leave!”

“You don’t deserve-”

The cold laugh that bypassed Nancy’s snarled lips was foreign, even to her. “You don’t know anything. This is my penance, Robin. I let Barb die. You fucking hear me? I let her die. And now Fred’s gone too because of me! I killed them! My stupidity got them killed! This” - she gestured to herself, breath hitching as she noticed her nails had begun talons - “is my punishment! I deserve to be a monster because all I can fucking do is hurt people!”

“That’s not true-”

“You didn’t see them. You didn’t see Fred’s snapped neck or Barb’s mangled corpse. I did. Everyone around me gets hurt and fuck it, Robin, I don’t want to hurt you too! I can’t- I wouldn’t be able to fucking live with myself,” Nancy choked out, doubling over back onto the tile as another wave of agony stabbed her. The bones of her arms cracked, growing uncomfortably long to allow herself to be quadrepedal. She collapsed onto them and another scream - this time coming out as a roar - left her, her jaw muscles lengthening to a muzzle.

Robin’s hand flung up to cover her mouth, tears collecting on them. It was over. In front of her was no longer Nancy Wheeler, but a beast. A shaggy brown animal with large haunches and needle-sharp claws. Pained exhales came out in dog-like pants from its parted lips, yellowed fangs glinting in the dim bathroom lighting. 

Nancy’s consciousness was slipping, the animalistic DNA in her system tearing at her, begging to take control of her mind. She fought against it, but she was losing strength quickly.

“Nance…”

We are not Nance, the monster thought, anger bristling within it. We are Monster. 

Nancy attempted to speak, but her canine tongue couldn’t form the syllables to convey what she wanted to say. She watched, wide-eyed, as Robin began to slowly approach her with caution. 

She will hurt us, the monster claimed, black lips curling back in a deep snarl. 

“Hey, hey, shhh, it’s okay,” Robin murmured, voice soothing. Something in the Monster paused at her words, ears perking up at her soft tone. No one had ever spoke to it in such a way before.

Robin. The Monster was unsure how it knew this creature’s name, but it did. It was still frightened, but something about Robin felt… right. Her scent was familiar and it calmed the fur bristling at the back of the Monster’s neck.

Robin knelt down beside the Monster, scanning it with caring eyes. “It’s just me, Nance. It’s just me. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Everyone lies, the Monster growled internally. It knew better than to trust. Trust would only bring danger. 

“I don’t know… what this all is, but that’s okay. We can work through it, alright? I’m not leaving you,” Robin murmured. “And you’re not going to hurt me. I trust you.”

She trusts us? The Monster was taken aback. No one had ever trusted it before. The few times it had come across other humans in the woods and in the quarry, they had screamed and fled. One man had even tried to shoot it. They did not want to trust the Monster. They wanted it dead. Why did this human trust the Monster?

“Have you been… hiding this from everyone?” Robin asked carefully.

The Monster thought for a moment. It was aware of some of the Other’s thoughts and experiences. It knew she had family and friends, but the Monster was not interested in them. The Other had never told them about the Monster. The Monster was her secret.

The Monster nodded its head.

Robin let out a shaky exhale. “Shit, Nance.”

Something stirred within the Monster. The Other tried to awaken, tried to take control, but the Monster would not allow it. It was it’s time, not hers. 

“You could’ve told me,” Robin said, staring into the Monster’s heavy gaze. “You couldn’t hurt me, not ever, okay? I survived murder Russians and a literal flesh demon. I can handle… this. I can handle you.”

The Monster lay its large head down in its paws, beginning to feel safe in Robin’s presence. Perhaps there were creatures who did not seek to harm it. 

Its ears perked when Robin’s pale hand came to rest a whisker’s length away from the Monster’s nostrils. The Monster was hesitant at first, but eventually cautiously sniffed at the flesh in front of it. 

Oh.

Robin’s scent was overpowering in all the right ways. The Monster had to dig deep to get the root of her, past the odd floral scents that clung onto Robin’s skin. But then there it was. Robin. Only Robin. Her scent was addicting. It smelled of home and safety and love. 

More, the Monster begged. It nudged Robin’s long fingers with its muzzle, wanting to have that scent all over it. It wanted nothing more than to be enraptured by Robin, being hers and hers only. 

A small laugh left Robin’s lips and the sound was more beautiful than any other. The Monster had grown to love the sound of the wind and the water when it hunted. Her laugh was all of those and more. The Monster couldn’t help the pitiful whine that left its throat.

Soft skin moved its way over the Monster’s scalp and it’s whole body immediately relaxed, giving in to the feeling. Perfect, perfect, perfect, the Monster chanted, feeling heavenly and wonderful and-

Burning pain seared against the Monster’s skull and it jerked back, instinctively lunging with open jaws at the source of the discomfort. Its fangs found nothing, snapping at air. It heard a gasp and turned, realizing immediately that it had almost bit Robin.

The Monster shrunk back into the corner, ears flattening against its head. She will hurt us now. She will kill us. No human is safe. They’re all the same.

However, Robin did not attack. She didn’t even give the Monster a look of terror. Her eyes were filled with only regret. The Monster watched as she carefully took off the rings of metal adorning her fingers and, without hesitation, tossed them into a nearby bin. 

The hurt was an accident, the Monster realized. She did not know. 

“Fuck, sorry,” Robin muttered. “I should’ve… I didn’t think that through. Silver is like Werewolf Bad Time 101.”

The Monster relaxed slightly and nudged its head forward, knocking into Robin’s hand once more. To its extreme gratitude, she began petting it once more, releasing all tension in the Monster. 

Robin is safe, the Monster decided, settling down and placing its chin in her lap. 

Robin is home.

[midnight-fauna]

cuttin' me open (then healin' me fine)

A/N: Originally posted on my Ao3 under "TheExtrovertOutcast"

Pairings: Nancy Wheeler/Robin Buckley

Chapter: 1/1

Word Count: 2053

Summary: Nancy patches up Robin after their fight with Vecna.

Ronancetober Day 1: Upside Down

It was over.

Fuck, it was finally over. 

Exhaustion hit Robin like a brick as her filthy body collapsed on Steve’s couch. Only an hour prior, she, a few teenagers, and a gaggle of kids had single-handedly stopped the apocalypse. Eleven had managed to kill Vecna’s Upside-Down form before he got to Max. The two girls were huddled up close on the floor, comforting one another. On Max’s other side was Lucas, a warm hand on her shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. He stayed silent while the two girls talked. Erica had already gone home, claiming she needed to tell the Sinclairs where their son was, but it was clear she just needed to be alone. The poor girl was way too young to be dealing with all this shit. All of them were.

On the other couch, Dustin and Eddie told Steve about their adventure of distracting the demobats. From what Robin had overheard, Eddie had tried to be a hero and act as bait for the hell-sent creatures. Fortunately, Vecna had been slain before they’d been given the chance to completely devour the lanky man. Steve was lecturing on Eddie, going on and on about how foolish the action had been; however, the gentle care he took in cleaning the other’s wounds spoke volumes louder. The interaction made Robin’s lips twitch upward in a small smile. 

Seeing her kids and her platonic soulmate safe eased something in Robin and she felt her heartbeat slow, sleep tugging at her wrist, begging her to succumb to it. Her eyes had only just begun to flutter to a close when she felt a weight beside her. She didn’t question it, assuming it was one of the kids come to find a proper napping spot, until a gentle hand found her arm.

She didn’t need to open her eyes to know who it was. The touch was cool, fingers delicate yet strong. Well-kept nails traced ever so slightly over her skin and it took all of Robin’s strength not to shudder. Her pulse spiked once more. 

“Robs,” Nancy’s voice was soft beside her. “Come on, we gotta get your wounds cleaned up.”

Too tired to care about how whiney her voice came out, Robin muttered, “We can… just do that tomorrow.” 

She didn’t have to look to know Nancy was frowning. “By tomorrow, a nasty infection might already find itself a wonderful home in your gashes.” 

Robin stirred slightly. As much as she’d love to get pampered by the Nancy Wheeler, the prospect terrified her at the same time. Ever since that night at Starcourt Mall, she’d been crushing hard on the girl. Seeing her with that gun, ferociously defending those she loved - fuck, not even her old admiration for Tammy Thompson could compare. 

Of course, just as the crush had started to fade, just as Robin wasn’t staring at her in the halls and buying every copy of the school newspaper religiously, the world had gone to shit again. It had brought her right back to Nancy and they’d actually grown close. 

Close was dangerous. Close meant heartbreak. 

Unfortunately for her, Nancy wasn’t taking “no” as an answer. 

With surprising strength for her short frame, Nancy yanked Robin to a seated position from where she’d begun to slump to the side. Robin let out a little shout, instantly turning the room’s attention to her. Face burning, especially so when Steve shot her a knowing look, she whispered, “Fine, fine, I’m coming.”

Nancy gave her a satisfied smile and, to Robin’s extreme panic, grabbed her hand, leading her up the stairs. They turned a corner, passing by Steve’s bedroom, and into the adjacent bathroom. Immediately, Nancy got to work, opening cupboards and rustling through them. “I know he has a first-aid kit somewhere in… aha!” Triumphantly, she emerged with a large white box with a grin. Robin’s heart physically fluttered. 

“I can patch myself up, Nance, really. It’s okay,” Robin said quickly, horrified at the possibility that sometime, after this, Nancy would find out what she was - how she felt about women. Wouldn’t Nancy be disgusted if she figured out she’d been so close to a lesbian? God, would she think Robin was trying to be predatory? 

Nancy raised an eyebrow. “You have cuts all over your back. How are you going to reach those?”

“I- well- I could-” Robin began to protest. 

“C’mon, it’s no big deal, really,” Nancy insisted and carefully grabbed Robin’s shoulders, pushing down on them so Robin ended up in a seating position on the edge of the porcelain bathtub. “I saw a pretty bad one on your leg, so I’ll start there.” 

Robin watched in awe as Nancy knelt down in front of Robin, making quick work of opening the kit and searching through it. She emerged with a handful of cotton balls, a bottle of clear liquid, and two rolls of gauze. Turning back to Robin, she worked her hands underneath the rough fabric of Robin’s blood-stained camo pants. Her chilled fingertips felt heavenly against Robin’s burning skin and she internally groaned at the realization she’d already become addicted to Nancy’s touch. 

“This is going to sting a little, okay?” Nancy warned once both pants had been rolled up to Robin’s mid-thighs. Various bruises and small cuts littered her freckled skin, undershadowed in importance against the long gash on her left calf. It was the source of all the blood on the tarnished fabric, not gushing any longer but still trickling down to her once-white socks. 

Lost in her thoughts, Robin was caught off-guard when a cold wetness dabbed at her cut. The antiseptic stung like hell and she couldn’t help the pained whimper that left her. Any prior attempt to seem “cool” to Nancy was completely lost by whatever the fuck that sound was. 

She tensed, waiting for Nancy to laugh at her or make some snarky remark. No such thing came. Instead, Nancy looked up at her with sympathetic doe eyes. “Sorry, maybe ‘a little’ was an understatement.”

“Of the century.” Robin allowed herself the sarcastic comment, surprised when Nancy laughed softly and lifted her free hand to her. 

“Here,” Nancy said. “Take my hand and squeeze it whenever it hurts too bad, alright? I got you, it’s okay.”

That last sentence had Robin’s head practically spinning. No one had ever “got” her before. Her dad was always out of the picture and her mom’s only form of affection was insulting Robin’s intelligence. Steve was her practically her platonic soulmate, but even he had never said something like that. 

Hoping Nancy wouldn’t notice how clammy her palms were, Robin reached down and took it. The cotton pad returned to her wound, the stroke soft despite the near-agony the action caused. Instinctively, Robin bit her lip and tightened her grip on Nancy. She expected her to yank her hand back, deciding her offer was no longer worth it. Yet, she only felt the soothing caress of the pad of Nancy’s thumb on the back of her hand. 

She would’ve fought Vecna all over again if it meant she could feel that forever. 

“You’re doing so good, Robs. You’re sitting so well for me,” Nancy praised and Robin could only pray that her jackrabbit pulse couldn’t be felt by the other girl. Though Robin had never been in a relationship, she’d always assumed she’d be the “dominant” one or whatever. After all, she was taller than most girls she knew and she had always associated the two traits. But hearing Nancy praise her like that? God, Robin was a pitiful puddle, threatening to slip behind her and sink down the drain. 

Eventually, the torment of the antiseptic ended and Nancy tossed the bloodied cotton into the garbage bin. She ruffled through the box and, extracting some medical tape, she set both that and the gauze in her lap. Robin watched in less-than-straight fascination as Nancy firmly pressed the gauze down on the wound. One hand kept it steady while the other brought the tape to her lips, grabbing the edge of it with her teeth and pulling. It was almost primal and Jesus, Robin did not have the time to unpack what that did to her. 

Soon, the tape was wrapped skillfully around Robin’s calf, holding the gauze in place. “There we go,” Nancy murmured, more to herself than anything. Her eyes lifted to meet Robin’s and, to the Robin’s confusion, she furrowed her eyebrows. 

“What? Do I have Hell dirt on my face?” Robin joked, desperately trying to ease the tension because she simply couldn’t cope with Nancy staring at her so intensely. 

Without a word, Nancy rose on her knees, thighs lifting off her calves and reached up to touch Robin’s bottom lip.

What. What. What. What. What. What. What. 

Robin’s mind was a blur of racing thoughts, all unintelligible to herself as her brain had become much more interested in the sensation on her skin. 

“Your lip is bleeding,” Nancy said quiety, thumbing over the torn skin. “That gash must’ve hurt like a motherfucker for you to bite it so hard.”

“Uh… yeah… yeah,” Robin stumbled out, knowing damn well her teeth had been teasing at her lip out of anxiety rather than physical pain. “It’s fine, though, really. Like, what’s a little lip wound to all the shit we’ve been through? Honestly, out of all of you, I probably ended up with the least amount of winds, so I really should consider myself lucky. Oh shit, speaking of, we need to go get checked for rabies after this. Do you think Eddie has his rabies vaccination? I’m not saying that because he’s poor because like, I know poor, but-”

“Robin.”

“- sometimes I wonder how his hygiene is? Respectfully, of course. He’s a great guy and I hope to become better friends with him just like I want to become better friends with you. I just didn’t really have anyone before Steve and even with him, sometimes it gets a little-”

“Robin.”

“- hard because like, you can only stand to be around Steve for so long, y’know? I mean, of course you know. You dated him and stuff. I hope that’s still not awkward between us, because I swear we really are platonic with a capital-”

Robin hadn’t even registered what Nancy was doing until she shot up, lips fitting against hers. All the exciting rambles streaming from her mind stopped, left with only Nancy. 

After a brief moment of their lips simply touching, not moving against one another, Nancy moved away. Robin’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of her own blood painted on Nancy’s perfect mouth. 

“Wow, uh, I’ve… never been shut up like that before,” Robin broke the silence awkwardly, damning herself internally. 

Nancy smiled a little. “I love it when you talk like there’s no tomorrow, Robs, but I honestly just really needed to do that.”

“Needed… to…?” Robin squeaked out. 

A laugh left Nancy and she rested back, kneeling once more. “You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met and you still don’t get this, do you?”

Robin stayed quiet. 

“I like you, Robin. I didn’t understand it, at first, but when you ran ahead in the Upside Down today, Steve and I had a talk. He… told me you told him about ‘bisexuality’ - that it’s possible to like both girls and boys. It made everything click for me. It made me realize I once loved Jonathan and now I love you.”

Oh.

“Me?” was all Robin could muster.

“Yeah,” Nancy said, amusement glinting in her big eyes. “I guess I sort of have a thing for awkward tall people that are just a little bit weird.” 

Robin’s brain stopped short-circuiting for a brief moment, allowing her to joke, “Weird? Me? I don’t know what you could possibly be insinuating, Wheeler.” 

“There’s my Robin,” Nancy said, beaming.

My Robin.

“I’m your Robin,” Robin repeated, saying it like an oath, a promise. “I’m… really regretting biting my lip now because god, I really want you to kiss me again.” 

Nancy leaned forward, bending Robin down by the collar of her shirt. “Lucky for you, Buckley,” she murmured, a teasing glint in her eye, “years of fighting monsters made blood not a problem for me.” 

Robin exhaled shakily.

“Prove it then, Nance.”