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i'm burning up (all i see is red)

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For someone who’s attended her fair share of high-school parties—courtesy of one ‘King Steve’ and their torrid, thankfully amicably ended relationship—Nancy is surprised to find herself somewhat enjoying this one.

She’d been hesitant when Robin had first brought it up. A band party, she’d thought, sceptical to the extreme. Images of awkward card games and limited alcohol and shitty music had sprung to mind, nothing like the parties she’d attended on Steve’s arm (which, if she really thinks about it, might not have been a bad thing—the last party they’d gone to together hadn’t exactly been a blast).

“I don’t know, Robbie.” She’d said, using the nickname to try and soften the blow, reluctant to shatter the gleaming in hope in her girlfriend’s eyes. Because much as she loves Robin, band is her thing, not Nancy’s. The party would surely be full of her friends, playing music Nancy had probably never heard of. Plus, Nancy could use the night away from her to start planning the surprise road trip she’d been talking about with Steve for Robin’s birthday.

But Robin had pouted and Robin had persuaded, in that adorably excited way of hers, promising that it would be a fun night out, and that the second Nancy wanted to leave they would.

“Also, it’d be our first party together. As a couple.” This part Robin had spoken softly, looking at Nancy with such love in her eyes that, god, she’d just had to lean over and kiss her, and Nancy had found herself agreeing.

So, here she stands. A band party. And it’s actually pretty good, she has to admit.

She’d been expecting a maximum of twenty, maybe thirty people, but the house (belonging to one of Robin’s bandmates whose name Nancy can’t remember) is packed, and not just with members of the school band. There are kids from all different cliques, jocks dancing with science nerds, bookworms playing beer pong with the Mathletes. It’s a real melting-pot, a lot friendlier than any party Nancy’s attended before—those she’d been to in her sophomore and junior years had always held a certain air of hostility, like if she made one wrong move, said the wrong thing to the wrong person, she’d be made a social pariah in the blink of an eye.

The music is decent, too. There’ve been a couple of songs Nancy couldn’t name for the life of her, but most of it is the popular stuff she listens to on the radio. And people are dancing, no awkward card games in sight, and all in all, she’s been having a great time.

Her and Robin had arrived about an hour after the party started and had immediately been greeted by Eddie (who Nancy didn’t know was in band until, like, half an hour ago, despite having literally fought for their lives together) and Steve, whom Eddie had invited. They’d chatted with the boys, had a few drinks, danced together. Nancy is having the time of her life, if she’s honest.

Well, she had been. Up until Vickie Harris decided to start flirting with her girlfriend.

Robin had gone with Eddie to get more drinks for the four of them about ten minutes ago, and whilst Eddie had returned to her and Steve, Robin had not. Nancy had been confused, looking around trying to locate Robin, worried she might have gotten lost in the sea of people, before her eyes had landed on a flash of irritatingly familiar red hair and her concerned frown had dropped into a cold glare.

Robin hadn’t got lost. Robin had just been waylaid by the one person who can make Nancy see red in a matter of seconds. Fucking Vickie.

Nancy can see them now from where she’s posted up against the wall with the boys, can see Robin chatting away to the redhead as Vickie stares up at her girlfriend like she’s seeing the sun for the first fucking time. And it’s not like she can really blame her—Robin’s amazing, Nancy knows—but that’s not the point.

The point is, Robin is hers. She’s hers, goddamnit. And Nancy’s never been a particularly possessive person, nor has jealousy ever really troubled her, but Vickie just pushes her buttons in a way she’s never experienced before.

There are a number of surface-level reasons Nancy could chalk her dislike up to: Vickie’s cutting sarcasm, the way she dresses, her sense of humour, anything. But none of that actually bothers Nancy, not really.

What bothers her is that Vickie, no matter how many times Robin has tried to deny it, has the most obvious crush on her girlfriend. Again, Nancy can’t exactly blame her, Robin’s hot as hell, but what she can blame her for is the blatant fucking flirting.

It’s not like her and Robin aren’t out, either. If they weren’t, she’d be a little less annoyed by the ginger girl, a little more lenient. But they are. Her and Robin don’t hide their relationship and haven’t since they started dating all those months ago. But Vickie just doesn’t seem to get the memo.

She’s always mooning after Robin, gazing at her like she’s the only girl in the world, and it pisses Nancy off to no end. Like, keep it in your pants, right? She always comes into Family Video when Robin’s working, sometimes when Nancy’s there too, and will spend fucking hours just talking to Robin, giving her compliment after compliment and god, it drives Nancy up the wall.

It’s not Robin’s fault; the girl is oblivious with a capital ‘O’, innocent in such a way that it makes it impossible for Nancy to be mad at her, and she just does not understand what it is about Vickie that makes Nancy so angry.

“She’s just friendly, Nance.” Is always her response when Nancy’s brought it up before, after Vickie had twirled Robin’s hair around her finger at a football game, or called her ‘a total babe’ right in front of Nancy at the video store. And she always says it so calmly, so assuredly, that Nancy just leaves it. Besides, she trusts Robin. She knows she’d never do anything to hurt her.

That trust is the only thing stopping her from marching over to Vickie and giving the girl a piece of her mind. So, she stays where she is. And she glares. Very obviously, if Eddie’s interruption of her train of thought, amused and giggly, is anything to by.

“Whoa, Wheeler. Who pissed in your porridge?”

Nancy’s eyes drag reluctantly away from her girlfriend for a second to dart a glare the long-haired boy’s way. His eyes are alight with mischief—something not uncommon for him—as he leans in with a knowing smirk and slings an arm round Steve’s shoulders. She rolls her eyes at his expression, not deigning to answer, before she returns to her icy staring.

It’s Steve who chimes in next.

Oh.” He says, extending the vowel to exaggerate his realisation as he follows her gaze. She looks back at him, narrowing her eyes.

“What?” She snaps and it’s a little harsher than she intended, but the music is blaring and she has to shout, and the venom in her voice comes out pointedly. Steve waggles his eyebrows as his arm wraps around his boyfriend’s waist.

(Honestly, sometimes she regrets helping Steve and Eddie get together. The both of them are trouble enough on their own, but it turns out they’re absolute menaces together.)

“Never thought you were the jealous type, Nance.” Steve drawls and it pisses her off even further. Not only do I have to watch Vickie fucking Harris flirt with my girlfriend, now I have to deal with these two idiots teasing me for it. Great. She turns back to looking at Vickie and Robin with a huff.

“I’m not jealous.” She tries, but it’s hardly what you’d call convincing. It’s more biting than anything, annoyance at being called out rather than actual denial. Both Steve and Eddie giggle. She rolls her eyes again. I’m going to kill them one day, I swear.

“Sure. So you’re just trying to explode Vickie with your eyes because you don’t like her haircut, right?” Steve replies, ever the smartass, and it sends him and his boyfriend into another bout of laughter. It grates on Nancy’s nerves, and she’s this close to telling them to shut the fuck up about it, but before she can lose her temper, she takes a breath. Closes her eyes for a moment. Recentres.

You trust Robin. You love Robin, and she loves you. Chill the hell out.

It works, for a moment. She opens her eyes and releases the breath she’d taken and feels herself calming down. Sure, Vickie and Robin are chatting, but that’s all it is. Just chatting. And they’re at a party, for god’s sake. Robin’s allowed to talk to her friends. She trusts her.

Every ounce of calm she’s just accrued goes straight out the window the second she sees Vickie step closer, laughing, and place a hand on Robin’s arm, gazing up at her girlfriend through her lashes like a fucking cheesy actress in a shitty romcom.

Burning anger boils in Nancy’s blood at the sight. Her jaw clenches and her hands ball into tight little fists and if looks could kill, Vickie would be six feet under.

“Would you excuse me, boys?” She grits out and before she can pause to see their reactions, she’s storming through the crowd towards her girlfriend.

She has to push through a swarm of sweaty, dancing bodies, but all she can see is Vickie’s hand on Robin’s arm, those faux-innocent eyes looking up at her, and it drives her onwards. She shoves her way past, ignoring the indignant yells and curses she gets hurled her way, until she’s a stone’s throw away from the two girls.

She doesn’t exactly know what she’s going to do when she reaches them. Making a scene feels like too much, so shouting at Vickie or pulling Robin into a sloppy kiss right in front of her like she so desperately wants to is out of the question. But she can’t just do nothing. Not when that…that bitch is practically throwing herself at her girlfriend.

Before she can formulate any kind of plan, she’s stepping up beside Robin, joining them.

“What are you two ladies chatting about?” It comes out saccharine sweet, the fakest smile she’s ever worn stretching her lips as she not-so-gracefully cuts into the conversation. Robin’s head turns, and Nancy can’t help but soften a little at the brightening of her eyes when they land on her. It never fails to make her heart race, the way Robin looks at her—reverent, loving, like she’s her own personal miracle.

She snakes an arm around Robin’s waist, pressing herself into her girlfriend’s side as she turns to face the bitch she came over here to deal with. Her fingers dig into the skin of Robin’s hip as she meets Vickie’s eyes, smile turning dangerous.

“Oh, hey Nancy.” And the disappointment in the redhead’s voice has a malicious sort of joy rising in Nancy’s chest. She returns the greeting with as much fake courtesy as she can muster.

Beside her, she feels Robin’s eyes on her. She’s acting weird, she knows—but damn if the humbled look on Vickie’s face isn’t worth every ounce of suspicion she can feel radiating from her girlfriend. It must not raise too many alarm bells for Robin though, because her girlfriend, ever the sweetheart, presses a gentle kiss to her temple and murmurs a “hey, babe” as Nancy stares Vickie down.

Robin, unphased by Nancy’s interruption, goes back to whatever it is she was talking about before Nancy made her entrance. Nancy doesn’t really register any of it, too busy watching the way Vickie’s eyes dart from Robin’s face to hers, going between intrigued and sheepish like it’s a goddamn tennis match. Serves her right, Nancy thinks. She should feel fucking sheepish, hitting on my girlfriend.

The anger roiling in her gut settles a little with every word exchanged between Robin and the redhead, morphing into something smug, something righteous. Now she’s here, now she can see the disheartened look on Vickie’s face, everything feels a little better. Vickie’s enthusiasm is fading with every minute that passes as Nancy’s hand strokes patterns into Robin’s hip, and with every iota of mischievous light that leaves the other girl’s eyes, Nancy feels her own eyes grow all the brighter.

She wonders how long it’ll take for Vickie to give up. Robin’s clearly not interested, she’s clearly already spoken for, and at this point, it’s a little embarrassing for the ginger girl. Desperate, much? And she knows she’s being mean, knows deep down that Vickie’s harmless, but that little green-eyed monster is still urging her on, still pushing for more with a sneer on its face, and Nancy can’t help but let it take over for a while.

The final nail in the coffin seems to be when Nancy leans over to rest her head on Robin’s shoulder. It’s petty and needless, given that Robin’s already made it clear she’s happy to have Nancy there, but the vicious satisfaction that shoots through Nancy’s veins when Robin’s arm comes to wrap around Nancy’s shoulders and Vickie’s face falls even further makes it so worth it.

It’s not long after that before Vickie excuses herself, muttering something about catching up with another friend of hers and practically jogging away. Nancy watches her go with a tight smile, victory roaring in her belly, blood rushing in her ears.

And then it’s just her and Robin, together in the middle of the party. And Nancy’s confused for a second; this is exactly what she wanted, so why does she still feel so mad? Something still churns in her gut, annoyance and anger and overwhelming possessiveness coalescing into a hard little ball that demands her attention, and her mind is still seething with furious little thoughts and Robin’s looking at her with a mix of confusion and softness and she just wants to—

Oh.

Before Robin can even open her mouth to question her, Nancy’s extracting herself from her embrace, grabbing her hand and tugging her towards the stairs. She marches ahead, Robin following, pushing past writhing teenagers with determined fury. That anger, that cold, icy selfish need to have Robin to herself has turned hot and molten in her stomach. It’s no longer quite as fiery, but it’s just as consuming, and as they reach the stairs, Nancy realises what it is she wants.

She’s proved that Robin is hers to Vickie. Now she wants to prove it to Robin, too.

“Nance?” Her girlfriend calls as Nancy stomps up the stairs, hands still laced together. Nancy doesn’t bother to reply. “Where are we going?” They’re on the first-floor landing now and Nancy scans the array of doors in front of her as Robin squeezes at her fingers to get her attention. That molten, encompassing thing in her stomach is beginning to roar, beginning to beg for attention, and so Nancy tugs Robin forward again, trying the first room.

The door doesn’t budge, locked. Nancy huffs, moves along.

“What’s going on?”

She tries the next door. Locked again. She moves along.

“Babe, seriously. What’s going—”

Robin doesn’t get to finish her sentence. She’s cut off by Nancy, having tried the third room and found it fortunately unlocked, tugging her inside and pushing her up against the door.

Robin lets out a surprised huff of air at the impact and Nancy just about has enough time to register how cute her girlfriend is when she’s flustered before she’s slamming their lips together.

The kiss is messy and fast, all teeth and tongue, fuelled by the fire pulsing in Nancy’s lower belly, and fuck it’s hot. Robin, for all her initial shock, relaxes into it fairly quickly, hands finding their place on Nancy’s hips—and god, her touch burns—as Nancy’s own tangle in the taller girl’s collar.

With every stroke of tongue, every bitten lip, Nancy feels her heart flare with possessiveness. Over and over, a constant pulse of mine, she’s mine, goddamnit, mine, it has her hands itching to touch Robin, her mouth dripping with all manner of filthy things she wants to say, wants to tell her to make sure she knows she’s hers.

They make out furiously against the door for a few minutes, the both of them getting more and more antsy with every muffled sound, every slide of lips, before Robin, much to Nancy’s dismay, pulls back. She’s breathless, panting, as she leans her head back on the door, hands still gripping at Nancy’s waist and the sight of her—wrecked, dazed and so fucking needy—has an ache starting deep in Nancy’s lower belly. It’s all she can do not to pull her back in.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Robin starts hoarsely, her pupils blown so wide Nancy thinks she can see the most carnal of sins within them, “but what’s this about?”

Sudden insecurity creeps up on her then, with Robin’s eyes searching hers, her girlfriend’s hands stroking soft patterns into Nancy’s skin. It all seems a little juvenile now, her jealousy; Robin loves her, and has for months. They’ve fought for their lives together, saved each other, been there for one another in the darkest of times.

But then, as Nancy looks up at her, the image of Vickie’s hand on Robin’s arm, of her shrill, irritating laughter ringing out across the room, flashes in her mind. That fire in her stomach, the one that calls for Nancy to show Robin exactly who she belongs to, blazes even brighter, burns even hotter, and Nancy swallows her nerves.

“It’s nothing.” She grits out and Robin raises an eyebrow. She ignores it in favour of grabbing her wrist and tugging her from the door over to the bed in the middle of the room.

Robin, because she’s, well, Robin, rambles the whole way.

“Well, it can’t be nothing, Nance, because then you wouldn’t be acting like this, and I know when you’re acting different, and you’re acting different right now,” the other girl babbles, not stopping even when Nancy turns her around and practically shoves her onto the bed, “and I don’t know why so you have to tell me otherwise—”

“Robin.” Nancy cuts in, standing over her girlfriend with fire in her eyes, lust dripping from her tone.

“Yeah?” Her girlfriend looks up, all bright-eyed and innocent, and that possessive, jealous streak ignites again with a new intensity.

“Stop talking.”

She straddles Robin and kisses her again, their entangled figures falling backwards to hit the mattress. Robin’s hands find her hips, and Nancy has the strangest urge to pull them away, lace their fingers together and pin them to the pillow besides Robin’s head. She tamps that particular desire down—her girlfriend’s hands feel far too good, sending electric sparks shooting down her spine, for her to follow through with removing them from her body. But the delicious thought of it pulls a quiet groan from deep in her chest, the idea of that kind of control making her nearly animal with need.

Nancy’s head spins with it as they continue to kiss, Robin’s mouth opening against her own, tongue darting out to taste the seam of Nancy’s lips. It’s all too much, too much and absolutely not enough, having her girlfriend like this, hands roaming and tongues tangling and that fiery beast still raging in Nancy’s belly.

Somewhere below them, she can hear the sounds of the party continuing on without them. There’s some Tears for Fears song playing now, one she’s heard Robin humming mindlessly around the video store, but all of it is background. White noise. Her focus is on Robin and Robin alone. The girl is making these little breathless sounds in the back of her throat, quiet whines and whimpers that have Nancy struggling to hold back noises of her own as their mouths meet again and again, Nancy’s hands gripping Robin’s shirt as her girlfriend’s press into her sides.

It's then that Nancy realises how perfectly positioned she is; both her thighs on either side of one of Robin’s as she sits astride her, that place where she’s wet and wanting pressed up against the fabric of Robin’s jeans through her underwear. The knowledge of that fact makes her burn as she keeps kissing Robin, keeps dipping her tongue into her girlfriend’s mouth, fisting her shirt collar in a vice-like grip—suddenly the skirt she’d been unsure about but had decided to wear to the party anyway becomes something she is immensely grateful for as she lowers herself further onto Robin’s thigh.

Her hips start rolling of their own accord, slowly dragging her clothed core against the denim. And fuck, it feels incredible. She’s wet, unimaginably so already, she can feel it—the rise and fall of pressure on her clit has her nearly crying with how perfectly imperfect it is and the feel of using Robin like this is dizzying.

Nancy barely holds in a moan, the roughness of the fabric providing the perfect friction for her to rub against. And god, she should be embarrassed by how much this is turning her on—Robin’s not even really touching her, for fuck’s sake—but the rawness of it all, the pure, animal want of it, wipes away any semblance of humiliation. Knowing that she’s this desperate, that she couldn’t even wait for Robin to undress her, it has Nancy bucking, hips settling into a rhythm that feels like swallowing a supernova.

Robin must realise what Nancy’s doing as her hips continue to roll and she pulls out of the kiss, gasping for breath. Nancy, mind foggy with rising pleasure, hazily takes in the wonder on Robin’s face as she looks down at her own thigh, at the way Nancy is rocking against it. Her girlfriend’s eyes are wide and darker than Nancy’s ever seen them and the sight of it sends another pulse of arousal spiking through Nancy’s system.

“Holy shit, Nance.” Robin breathes, awe and ecstatic disbelief and unabashed lust prevalent in her voice as it cracks on the last syllable. Nancy takes it as encouragement and starts to sit up, still keeping that deliriously perfect contact with Robin’s leg. Robin goes with her, sitting up and letting her hands tentatively find Nancy’s still rolling hips.

They’ve never done anything like this before. Every one of their previous encounters has been soft and sensual, usually in the privacy of Nancy’s room or the back of Robin’s truck out by Lover’s Lake. It’s always been soft sighs and gentle kisses and whispered ‘I love you’s as they take the time to worship each other’s bodies.

And Nancy had loved that. Any chance to show Robin her devotion, her love, had been enthusiastically taken. And she’d never wanted for more. Soft had been their brand. Never before has it been rough like this. Never before has it been so raw, so desperate, so primal.

Never before has it felt this fucking good.

Robin’s hands are a little cautious as they grip onto Nancy, but with a shaky nod from her girlfriend, Robin tightens her grasp and starts to move, starts to guide Nancy into a faster pace against her thigh. Nancy’s still in control, both of them know that, but having Robin help her along adds to the inferno now blazing through Nancy’s whole body. She lets out a moan, unmuffled by Robin’s lips as her girlfriend shifts to press open-mouthed kisses to Nancy’s neck.

She’s getting more vocal, and she’ll need to tone it down if she doesn’t want them to be caught, but the onslaught of sensation is too much for Nancy to keep in. She can feel herself soaking her underwear as she rocks against her girlfriend, the combination of the roughness of Robin’s jeans and the slickness of her panties pressing against her is absolutely heavenly, and just when she thinks it can’t get any better, whilst one of Robin’s hands keeps guiding her hips, her girlfriend moves the other up to squeeze at Nancy’s breast.

Her nipple hardens at the touch, even through her bra and t-shirt, and Robin swipes a thumb over it as she sucks at Nancy’s pulse point. There’ll be a bruise in the morning, Nancy knows, but she’s too far gone now to care. Plus, the idea of Robin marking her is unexpectedly hot and she feels herself grow even wetter at the thought, that possessive fire lighting again—that bitch Vickie might finally get over it if she sees Nancy covered in Robin’s hickies (a juvenile thought, but holy shit who fucking cares oh my god this feels amazing).

After providing Nancy’s other breast with the same attention, squeezing the flesh and teasing the nipple until Nancy’s nearly out of her mind with want, Robin’s hand disappears. Nancy’s confused for a moment, until she feels it at the waistband of her skirt and she understands what Robin wants.

Any other time, she’d give in. Let Robin slip her hand into her underwear and fuck her until she finishes. Let her girlfriend make her feel good. But this time, that friction from Robin’s thigh feeling like one of god’s miracles, the image of Robin laughing with that fucking redhead still on repeat in her mind, and the fierce, angry need to prove that she’s hers has Nancy stopping her. She grabs at Robin’s wrist and pulls it away, revelling in the pout that forms on those full lips.

“No.” She gasps out, still rolling herself against Robin’s thigh.

There’s a moment where she questions herself for a moment as Robin stares up at her. Is she really going to do this? Rut like a bitch in heat, forgo the magic of Robin’s fingers and tongue in favour of getting herself off on Robin’s thigh?

But then she sees the submission in her girlfriend’s eyes, feels Robin’s one hand still working her hips to press her against her thigh, and feels that little ball of white-hot heat building at the base of her spine and lets out another moan. That’s exactly what I’m gonna do.

“Like this.” She says, low and breathy but also commandeering in a way she’s never been before in situations like this. “Need you like this.”

Robin nods, pupils absolutely blown, and moves her hand back to Nancy’s hip, joining her other one in its rhythm. She lets Nancy use her, lets her set the pace, and that yielding of control has Nancy’s whole body shaking. She whines, screwing her eyes shut for a moment, blinding pleasure building in her gut. Robin groans in tandem, the sound heady and hot and addicting, fingers digging into Nancy’s skin and drawing another whimper from her.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so hot.” She rasps and Nancy’s eyes fly open, locking onto Robin’s. She’s panting, heat building almost unbearably in her lower stomach, and she needs to see Robin’s face right now or else she’ll lose her fucking mind. Those wanting eyes, that parted, perfect mouth, those blush-reddened freckles—the sight of it drags Nancy ever closer to the approaching edge.

She can feel it coming, the fall, as she ruts even harder against Robin’s leg, eyes on her girlfriend the entire time. And she’s making a mess on Robin’s jeans, she knows—her underwear is ruined by now, her wetness nearly dripping down her thighs—but she can’t find it in herself to be embarrassed. Not when Robin’s looking at her with such unabashed adoration in her eyes, when she’s making these gorgeous little mewling sounds in the back of her throat as Nancy uses her.

The knot of burning heat grows and grows in her belly as Nancy keeps rocking her hips, gripping onto Robin’s shoulder and the back of her neck. She’s so close she can almost taste it, can almost feel that bursting pleasure, but something keeps her from it as Robin leans in to mouth at her jaw.

It hits Nancy like an epiphany, close to tears with how desperate she is for release, what it is she needs to push her over the edge and she’s pulling Robin back by her neck so she can see her face before she can even formulate the words.

Robin watches her as she forces the words out, such wild want in her eyes it’s almost enough.

“You’re mine.” She grits out, scratching her nails along the back of Robin’s neck. The words are like weights off her chest, and she gasps once they’re out of her mouth, mounting pleasure nearly making her scream.

Brief realisation flashes in Robin’s eyes, but before she can question her, Nancy’s talking again.

“Say it.” And she needs to hear it, needs it like air, needs to know that Robin is hers and hers alone. She’s so fucking close it almost hurts but she forces her eyes to stay open, forces the fire she feels in her whole body into her eyes as she stares down at her girlfriend.

“I’m yours.” Robin says. “I’m all yours, Nancy.” And her words are full of such truth, such unerring honesty and devotion that it’s (finally, finally) enough.

Searing pleasure singes its way up Nancy’s spine, spreading to every corner and turning her vision white. Heat envelopes her body as she throws her head back, eyes screwing shut as her mouth falls open in absolute ecstasy. Her hips stutter against Robin’s thigh as she clenches and spasms around nothing, her clit pulsing as she comes harder than she thinks she’s ever come in her life.

Her hips are still twitching as she comes down, body trembling with the aftershocks, and Nancy thinks she might have fallen off the bed in her passion if Robin hadn’t been there to catch her

(Robin is always there to catch her.)

Her girlfriend holds her as she calms, as her breathing steadies, using one hand to cup the back of Nancy’s head and pull it gently to rest against her shoulder, the other stroking soothing patterns up and down her back. It feels so indescribably nice, Nancy feels so indescribably loved, that she allows herself to bask in it for a while, collapsed in Robin’s embrace as she draws in shaky breaths.

When she pulls back, pulse having returned to a normal enough speed and mind not as scattered, it’s to see Robin gazing up at her, grinning in that little shit way of hers. There’s knowing in those pretty eyes of hers, smugness too, and Nancy feels her cheeks heat with a blush.

“Don’t.” She groans, burying her face back into Robin’s shoulder, embarrassment finally creeping up on her now that the heat and the want has left her body. She feels her girlfriend chuckle.

“Jealous, were we?” Robin teases and Nancy cringes internally.

“Shut up.” But there’s no real teeth to it as she blushes harder. With her mind cleared of its lustful fog, Nancy sees how she might have gone a little overboard. I mean, Jesus, Vickie was really only talking to Robin and in retaliation, Nancy had dragged her girlfriend up her and done…that. Fucking hell, Wheeler. Overreaction, much?

She’s just starting to feel insecurity claw at her mind when Robin speaks again.

“Hey, it’s totally cool.” Her girlfriend’s voice is soft and reassuring, and Nancy wonders for what feels like the hundredth time since they started dating, just how Robin is so attuned to what she’s feeling at any given moment. She sits back a little so she can look at her.

“I mean, shit, if that’s what you being jealous gets me, maybe I should start trying to make you jealous more often.” Her girlfriend jests and Nancy allows the tiniest of smiles to tug at her lips, shoving playfully at Robin and feeling more assured already.

Robin laughs again, bright and beautiful, and moves her hand to tuck a strand of hair behind Nancy’s ear. Her palm stays on her cheek afterwards and Nancy leans into the touch.

“That was ok then?” And she has to ask, even though Robin’s joking and being wonderful, just to check she hasn’t crossed any lines because the last thing she wants to do is hurt Robin.

Robin’s grin softens into something gentler, something more tender, thumb stroking over Nancy’s cheekbone. Her eyes are still bright with mischief, but in their time together, Nancy’s become somewhat of an expert in reading Robin. She likes to think she knows her girlfriend better than anyone. She knows that Robin isn’t the biggest fan of eye-contact, that it tends to make her uncomfortable at the best of times, that is has to be earned from the other girl, knows that Robin has the biggest obsession with rings and likes to fiddle with them all the time. She knows when Robin just needs to be held, needs the pressure of a tight hug, or just needs to sit in silence for a bit. She knows Robin. And that’s how she knows that those eyes she’s giving her right now, mean that she is loved and that everything is alright.

“Ok?” Robin starts, smiling wide and genuine. “Baby, that was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

With those words, all of Nancy’s lingering insecurity melts away and a soft, abashed giggle slips from her lips. She pulls Robin in for a chaste kiss, which feels a little odd given what they’ve just done, but it’s so sweet, Robin’s so sweet, that Nancy can’t help but grin against her lips.

The clarity of it is startling, the thought that hits Nancy as they trade soft pecks and rest their foreheads together: home. Here, in Robin’s arms, still warm from her orgasm, lips pressing together so sweetly it feels divine, Nancy is home. Robin is her home, whether fighting monsters or puzzling through algebra or holding each other in a stranger’s bed at a party—Nancy will always be home as long as she’s with Robin.

They kiss lazily for a while, clinging to each other and trading laughs and tender touches before Nancy pulls back. Robin chases her lips blindly for a minute and Nancy smiles fondly.

“We should probably go back downstairs.” She murmurs, eyes still closed, nose still rubbing against Robin’s. Her girlfriend huffs and she grins again. “Steve and Eddie will be wondering where we are.”

Robin hums, thinking, and Nancy opens her eyes just to see her cute little nose scrunch as she does.

“We could do that,” Robin acquiesces with a tilt of her head, “or,” she continues innocently, curling her hands back around Nancy’s waist in a way that’s anything but. Nancy bites her lips, pushing into her girlfriend’s touch with a little sigh. “We could stay here a little longer.”

Nancy huffs out a chuckle, heart swelling with absolute adoration for her girlfriend.

“Yeah? And do what?” She asks, faux-innocent because she knows Robin, knows that look in her eye, and knows exactly where her mind has headed. She grins as Robin pulls her closer, pressing their foreheads together again and holding Nancy with such love, she thinks she could cry.

“I can think of a few things.” Is Robin’s muttered response and she’s rolling Nancy onto her back and kissing her into the mattress before Nancy can chuckle at the taller girl’s cheesy lines.

As Robin’s lips capture hers once again, as she settles her weight atop Nancy with the gentlest of care, Nancy smiles to herself, hands coming up cup Robin’s face.

She’s never been a particularly jealous person before. But, Nancy thinks as Robin’s hands move to tug her shirt over her head, a little jealousy might not be such a bad thing now and then, after all.