An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Title: there's blood in the water (but it tastes so sweet) Rating: M Pairing: Robin/Nancy Words: 3,216 Summary: “Turn around slowly.”
A woman. Something about that voice triggered a distant memory in her mind that she couldn’t quite place. Robin raised her hands by her head to show the assailant that she wasn’t armed, at least not yet, and slowly turned to face the person who snuck up on her.
As her eyes locked onto icy blue orbs, the distant memory hit her full force.
A dive bar in Paris. Lilac and vanilla. A kiss that left her breathless and a contact that she’d never forget.
or a Spy AU where Robin is a French Intelligence agent and Nancy is a rogue CIA agent
Hawkins, Indiana 1985
Robin felt like the universe was playing a sick joke on her. She spent all of her childhood years wanting to leave America, choosing to travel the world as soon as she graduated and not stepping foot back in the States unless absolutely necessary, and now she was forced to be on an assignment in the middle of fucking nowhere for an indefinite period of time. What was DGSE doing getting involved in American affairs anyway?
She huffed in frustration as her thoughts continued to spiral. She wasn’t paid to ask questions, she was paid to get the job done, and that’s exactly what she planned to do. With time the pieces would inevitably fall into place on why the Direction générale de la Sécurité extérieure was getting involved in America’s problems. Robin’s only goal was to get this job done as quickly as possible so she could leave this dumpster fire of a country and return to the life she had grown accustomed to.
A lot of strange events were occurring in the small town of Hawkins, so strange that it piqued the interest of France, and Robin wouldn’t be surprised if other countries took a particular interest in these cases as well. Disappearances, deaths, and rumors of supernatural creatures that were yet to be proven true, or perhaps America was just doing a really good job at covering their tracks to hide their mistakes from the rest of the world. Not for the first time, the French intelligence agent questioned why this suddenly became her problem.
Robin landed in Indiana the night before and spent the majority of her time looking over the very sparse case files she had been given, trying to pinpoint where she should start. She was staying in a hotel just a few miles out of town because there was nowhere in Hawkins that lived up to her standard of living. Call her materialistic, but she worked hard to drag herself out of a life of poverty and make a name for herself, even though most of the people she was acquainted with didn’t actually know her real name. Truthfully, they didn’t know her much at all.
As a child, Robin was a terrible liar, her face turning beet red whenever she was dishonest to her mother or any authoritative figure. When she turned thirteen and realized she was a lesbian, hiding who she was and lying became second nature. Robin hid from friends, classmates, teachers, her parents, and worst of all, for too long, she hid from herself. Even now, she had taken on different personalities and appearances for the sake of getting the job done, so much so that if she dug deep within herself, she would be totally unrecognizable.
Sometimes, it bothered her to the point where she thought about truly leaving it all behind. She certainly had enough money and fake passports and aliases to live under the radar for the rest of her life, but in the end, she’d still be running away in a sense, and she was so tired of running. Robin had been doing this for so long that she didn’t know how to just stop. So, she stayed and continued to play this game where she really didn’t know what it would take to finally win and be done with it all. Staying is what brought her to where she was now, in the shithole town of Hawkins.
Looking over the case files, she saw a disappearance that felt as good a place as any to start. A sixteen-year-old girl that mysteriously went missing in ‘83, presumably dead, but no body had ever been recovered. Robin knew the odds of finding any evidence of the disappearance at this point was slim to none, but she had to start somewhere.
Barbara Holland. Born September 13th, 1967. Sophomore in high school. Straight A student. Last seen at a party at the Harrington residence. No known eyewitnesses to her disappearance.
It didn’t take long for Robin to get to the Harrington residence. She hoped that it being 11 a.m. on a Tuesday meant nobody would be around so she could get a closer look at the premises. She opted to take a cab from her hotel and was dropped off a few blocks from the house. Sticking to the woods around the home, she scoped out the yard’s perimeter, looking for all possible entry points.
After scouting the area for fifteen minutes and confirming nobody was home, Robin was about to make her way into the backyard, where there was a large in-ground pool and some outdoor chaise lounges. Before she could even take a step, she heard a twig snap behind her and immediately felt the cool barrel of a gun pressed against the back of her head.
Not many things could sneak up on her, so she knew that whoever she was dealing with would absolutely put up a good fight. She hadn’t even been in Hawkins for a full twenty-four hours and she already had a gun pulled on her. At least whatever was going on in this stupid town would keep her on her toes.
“Turn around slowly.”
A woman. Something about that voice triggered a distant memory in her mind that she couldn’t quite place. Robin raised her hands by her head to show the assailant that she wasn’t armed, at least not yet, and slowly turned to face the person who snuck up on her.
As her eyes locked onto icy blue orbs, the distant memory hit her full force.
A dive bar in Paris. Lilac and vanilla. A kiss that left her breathless and a contact that she’d never forget.
“Fox?”
Paris, France 1981
Robin wasn’t sure why she was told to meet her contact in this shitty dive bar of all places. The music was too loud, there were too many people that smelled of booze and sweat, and the lights were too bright. It was overwhelming for someone like herself who had sensory problems, but she’s learned to hide her anxiety well in her line of work.
She found the quietest spot near the bar and ordered a Jack and Coke. Her back was against the sticky countertop as she sipped the amber liquid that did nothing to quell her nerves, watching the writhing bodies on the small dance floor. She scanned the room for who could potentially be her contact, but all she saw were wasted twenty-year-olds who were probably under the influence of more than just alcohol.
Robin had been used to feeling out of place since she was a child, never quite able to fit in no matter how hard she tried to stuff herself inside of a box, and now was no different. Even in her casual clothes, she felt far too overdressed, considering everyone in this bar was wearing very little clothing. She was donning a striped tan button-up tucked into dark grey high-waisted pants that were cuffed above her ankles to show off her black hightop Converse. The look was finished off with a light grey blazer with the sleeves rolled up and a tie to match, which she was slightly regretting wearing now due to the stuffiness of the bar.
Suddenly, there was another presence on Robin’s right side that she hadn’t noticed until they invaded her personal space. She directed her attention over and immediately felt all the air get knocked from her lungs at the sight of the woman beside her.
The woman had her brunette locks pulled back into a ponytail with her bangs tucked behind her ears, exposing her sharp jawline. She wore a white, long-sleeved blouse that flared at the wrists tucked into a black skirt paired with a matching black vest. The outfit was completed with black knee-high boots and a little red purse that matched the color of the woman’s lipstick. She stood a few inches shorter than Robin, but there was something about the confidence the woman exuded that left the taller woman’s mouth dry. She was the most beautiful woman Robin had ever seen, and anyone who knew her would know that pretty girls made her a nervous wreck.
“Bonjour,” the woman greeted her with a sly smirk and a surprisingly good French accent, but Robin had spent enough time in France to pinpoint tourists from an initial greeting. While she knew she was supposed to be meeting an American CIA agent, and out of all the people in this shitty bar, this woman seemed to be the only person who had the potential to be her contact, she couldn’t be sure quite yet.
“Bonjour, Américain,” Robin greeted, twisting her body so she fully faced her newest companion of the evening. Her left forearm rested against the bar countertop as she held onto her beverage.
“How could you tell that I’m an American?” The shorter woman asked. One of her brows quirked up in a challenge, and the smirk never dropped from her lips.
“Your accent is good, but it could still use a little bit of work.”
To Robin’s surprise, that earned a laugh from the fellow American, and she couldn’t stop herself from chuckling as well. Even if this wasn’t who she was supposed to be meeting, she would indulge in the distraction for a little bit before returning to the task at hand.
“How did you get so good at your accent?”
“I’ve always had a knack for picking up on languages,” Robin shrugged nonchalantly. She was fluent in eight languages and constantly worked on learning more. Her knowledge of languages procured her with valuable intel without lifting a finger, and that’s why she was one of the best in her line of work.
“You must be very good with your mouth, then.”
She felt heat rise to her cheeks from the comment that she hoped would go unnoticed. The American stepped more into her personal space, reaching out to fiddle with the end of her tie. Lilac and vanilla filled her senses as nothing but a couple of inches separated the two, and the scent was absolutely intoxicating to Robin. From their close proximity, she could now see the woman had icy blue eyes. They were calculated, powerful, dangerous.
“What brings you to a place like this, anyways?” Robin asked, bringing her now mostly melted beverage to her lips to try to give her the confidence she didn’t actually possess.
“A little birdie told me about this place.”
Bingo.
That was the confirmation she needed to confirm this was, in fact, her contact.
“I didn’t think foxes got along well with birdies.”
“I can make exceptions sometimes, Birdie,” Fox purred, tugging on Robin’s tie to close the small gap between them.
To Robin’s surprise and absolute delight, Fox was kissing her, and who could really blame her for melting into the kiss. Her hands found Fox’s slim waist, pulling her impossibly closer. There was nothing shy about it, all teeth and tongue and passion, as if they had done this a million times before. They appeared to just be another couple showing some PDA, but as Fox’s hand slid from Robin’s tie deeper into her blazer, she felt the weight of a tape recorder slip into her inner pocket.
Fox didn’t pull away from their kiss once the job was done. Her hands moved lower, down to Robin’s waist, and it wasn’t until her hand brushed against the small pistol hidden under the blazer that she pulled away slightly. Her breath brushed against Robin’s lips, and those icy blue eyes were hooded with unconcealed desire, which Robin knew was probably mirrored in her own eyes.
“What’s that you’ve got packing down there?” Fox whispered against Robin’s lips.
“Would you like to find out?” The taller woman grinned, knowing that this was a very slippery slope they were both going down, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care.
“I absolutely would, but we’ll have to raincheck,” Fox sighed, planting one last kiss on Robin’s lips before pulling away from the embrace. “I hope to see you again sometime, Birdie.”
With that said, Fox turned and exited the shitty dive bar, leaving Robin to question whether that encounter even happened or if it had been a figment of her imagination. The only proof she had that it did, was the tape recorder tucked away in her pocket and the lingering scent of lilac and vanilla left on her clothes for the rest of the night.
Hawkins, Indiana 1985
“Birdie?” The woman that Robin had embarrassingly never been able to get off her mind flashed that same smirk she had four years prior, lowering the gun that had previously been aimed at Robin’s face.
Fox looked a little different than the last time Robin had seen her. Her straight hair now fell in beautiful curls down to her shoulders. Her face was bare of any makeup, but she still was just as gorgeous as the one and only time they had ever come into contact. Her eyes were just as calculated and dangerous, but they had dark circles under them, similar to Robin’s own.
“What are you doing here?” Robin questioned, her hands dropping back down to her sides now that a gun wasn’t pointed at her. It was a stupid thing to ask, but her brain wasn’t able to catch up with the events currently unfolding. She never thought she would see Fox again, and the fact that she was standing directly in front of the taller woman was slightly overwhelming.
“I could ask you the same thing,” Fox’s smirk morphed into a full-fledged grin. “What’s a DGSE agent doing across the pond?”
“Probably the opposite of what you’re doing here,” Robin vaguely responded. As much as she was thrilled to see Fox again, she knew in a situation like this, they were highly unlikely to be working for the same reasons, and as much as Robin didn’t want to fight the other woman, she wasn’t going to let the CIA agent stop her from doing what she came here to do. “I’m assuming you’re here to stop me from unveiling whatever secrets the CIA has been hiding from the rest of the world.”
“I think we’re actually here for the same reason.”
That piqued Robin’s interest, glad it appeared like she wouldn’t have to fight her way out of this situation. As confident as Robin was in her skills, she knew that Fox would be a challenging adversary just from the simple fact that twice now, she had been able to sneak up on Robin without realizing her presence.
“You’ve gone rogue?” Robin asked, her brows furrowed in confusion as she tried to get a read on the other woman.
Was this a ploy to lower the DGSE agent’s guard, or was Fox being truthful? It was hard to tell in their line of work. Lies were easier to fall from their lips than the truth. Robin had never trusted anyone, no matter how long she had worked with someone. Everyone was playing their own game and would quickly stab whoever they needed to in the back to get the tiniest step ahead. She was guilty of it herself at times. It’s one of the reasons why Robin preferred to work in solitude, only utilizing contacts periodically. The less anyone knew about her, the better.
“I’m a truth seeker, Birdie,” Fox said in lieu of an answer to the actual question. “And I can tell you, whatever is going on here wouldn’t just tip the scales but completely destroy them.”
“What is that even supposed to mean?”
“Come back with me to my hotel room, and I can explain more there. I could use the help with this. My car is parked a few blocks away,” Fox again evaded Robin’s line of questioning. “You’re wasting your time here, anyways. I already scouted the area before you arrived and didn’t find anything that would help find that girl.”
“You expect me to just take your word for it?” Robin huffed in frustration. She was mainly annoyed with herself by how quickly she wanted to fold for this woman and follow her along.
Something about the CIA agent made her feel as though she was balancing on a tightrope, and one wrong move would send her toppling down to her death. But in the same token, trusting Fox could be mutually beneficial for both of them. They could both get the answers they wanted, and Robin could leave all this behind her sooner rather than later.
“If you want to go check it out, then by all means, go for it. I won’t stop you. But I’m sure I have better intel I can give you than you’ll find here,” Fox challenged, that ever-present smirk on her lips that was beginning to irk Robin, but also made her knees a little weak at the sight of it.
“Why do you need my help? You don’t have any American friends to help you with this?”
Fox’s expression turned serious, losing the challenging playfulness that seemed to always be present in the couple of encounters Robin had with her. The French intelligence agent was again struck by the tired look in Fox’s eyes, like the powers that be had used her too much until she had nothing left to give. It wasn’t dissimilar to how Robin felt. There were too many assignments, too much death, too many lies. Even the strongest-willed people would break in this corrupt system, and it seemed both of them were nearing their breaking point.
“I’m done being a pawn. I’m done playing this fucked up game,” Fox sighed, running the hand that wasn’t holding the pistol through her curls. “This is my last mission, under nobody’s authority but my own. The truth needs to come out, or else everyone will suffer.”
Robin held eye contact with the rogue agent, not wanting to admit defeat quite yet, but she couldn’t say it wasn’t an enticing offer. Something about what Fox said made Robin feel as though she could trust her, as dangerous of a thought that was. Plus, Robin didn’t really have any desire to snoop around a wealthy family’s home without the promise of actually finding something worth her while. She silently prayed to whatever higher powers that were out there that this decision wasn’t going to turn around and bite her in the ass.
“Lead the way, Princess.”
“I will, only if you promise to never call me that again.”
Robin couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped her lips at the glare shot in her direction. She was glad she managed to get a little under the other woman’s skin, too.
“What shall I call you, then?”
“Nancy. Nancy Wheeler. And you?”
Robin hadn’t told anyone her real name since she became a DGSE agent, always having a different alias for each mission. But she had a feeling the name the CIA agent just gave to her was, in fact, her real name. If whatever they were doing was going to work, if Nancy could show her enough trust to disclose that information to her, then she would have to do the same.
“My name is Robin Buckley.”















