#dark!ronance

Some people would call Nancy controlling - and they'd be right. But, you never fault her for it. You suspect that these fears of you being in constant danger come from her life in Hawkins that she seems to spare you a lot of details of. She promised that she would tell you more when the time was right, so you didn't press. That was your freshman year. You're both juniors now, and you don't know anything more.

Truth be told, you like that Nancy is overprotective of you. It makes you feel warm and fuzzy, like the blankets on her bed that always feel fresh out of the dryer. Her praise and adoration for how good you are for her fuel you more than you’d care to admit. The thought of upsetting her devastates you.

That's why you've never broken one of Nancy's rules. Until now.

You swore that you'd never be out past dark by yourself, promised to call her if you were going to study late so she could come meet you and she could walk you back to your dorm or her apartment. But you've lost track of time tonight, head too full of theories and complicated academia that made your head feel so full that you were sure your skull would crack under the pressure.

The worst part is, this is the second time this week you've been out late.

Monday night, you were lucky enough to run into Robin, Nancy's roommate, about halfway home. She was the one person Nancy truly trusted to escort you to your dorm. That night though, Robin brought you back to her and Nancy's apartment instead, saying something about how they were going to invite you over to watch a movie anyway. You were a little confused why Robin was out and about if she had plans to stay home, but you didn't question her.

The air was especially chilly that night, and Robin noticed you rubbing your bare arms.

"It's not really t-shirt weather anymore, y'know," she said, and without a second thought she draped her jacket over your arms.

"I don't wanna steal your jacket," you mumbled. Though, you had to admit you enjoyed the smell of her engulfing you as you tugged it over your body.

"It's fine, I'm wearing a sweater. Besides, Nancy would insist," Robin hummed. You knew she was right. Nancy was always shoving a sweatshirt in your hands when you left her place, mumbling about how you were going to catch a cold if you kept this up.

Nancy was clearly not happy with you when you got back to her apartment, but she didn't say anything besides a passive aggressive comment about how she was going to make you carry a cardigan in your backpack when she saw Robin's jacket around you.

You assumed that she would talk to you about it later, when Robin had fallen asleep, but she never did. In fact, the night was entirely normal after that one comment - which all things considered, wasn't even that cutting. Especially since she's always nagging you affectionately about staying warm. Maybe she figured it wasn't a big deal and what mattered was that Robin got you home safe.

Naivety at its best. Everything is a big deal to Nancy, even if she doesn't let you know it.

Tonight, there's no Robin to walk you home. You're too exhausted to think straight, so you didn't even attempt to give Nancy a call before you walked out of the library, deciding to just go straight to your dorm and call her when you got there.

With school still fully on your mind, you're distracted as you walk the path back to your dorm essentially on auto-pilot. A few cars drive by the sidewalk you're on, but other than that, the streets are quiet.

Maybe it's paranoia, probably instilled in you by Nancy's constant warnings, but you get that creeping feeling in the back of your neck when you feel like someone's following you. You turn around, scanning the darkness for any signs of life. Nothing.

"Stupid," you mumble to yourself, quickening your pace a bit.

Unfortunately for you, the sidewalk is long overdue for repairs. Your faster pace makes you miss the bump in the sidewalk that sends you tumbling to the ground. You groan, sitting up and clutching your knee. Blood starts to soak through your jeans, and you wince as you feel the material rustle against the fresh scrape.

As tears prick your eyes from the pain and pure exhaustion, you wish that Nancy was here. She'd get you into her car and drive you home, make you sit on the counter as she cleans out the scrape, kiss your forehead and call you brave for only squirming a little bit. Maybe you'll stop in one of the convenience stores nearby and see if you can call Nancy to ask her to pick you up.

Just as you stand up again, after attempting to roll your jeans over your bloody knee to no avail, something - someone - grabs you. You try to scream, but a gloved hand covers your mouth before you can even think about it. The figure dragging you into the empty alleyway isn't large by any means, but you soon realize that there's another masked figure helping, grabbing your legs to prevent you from kicking.

The person behind you backs up against the wall, one arm pinning your arms to your sides as their other hand keeps your mouth covered. You try to bite their hand, but their gloves are too thick for it to do anything. You blink away the tears clouding your already limited vision to try to see the figure that just dropped your legs.

Before you’re able to kick, the one behind you positions their legs to spread yours apart, preventing you from fighting back. You tremble as the person in front of you pulls something shiny from their side. It takes you a second to realize what it is, and by the time you do, the gun is being pressed against your throat.

You wish you could see their face, but the combination of the ski mask and dark alley make it impossible to make out any sort of features. This face void of any soul is scarier than if you could see if they were giving you a frigid expression or a twisted grin.

They trace the barrel of the gun along your throat, cool metal causing you to tense. Neither of them have said a word, but you can hear raspy breathing from behind you. They trail the gun down your body, yanking your shirt up so that you’re forced to feel it against your skin. You squeeze your eyes shut as your chest is exposed, nipples hardening because of the cool air.

You want to squirm away as they grope you, but the threat of the weapon pressed against you keeps you frozen in place. They must realize this, because your limbs are freed from their grasp so they can both have access to your body. With your eyes squeezed shut, you don’t know who’s doing what, who’s pushing their gloved hands under your bra, who’s grinding their palm against your center.

Suddenly, your eyes jolt open at the feeling of your face being grabbed. You didn’t even realize the hand over your mouth had disappeared, having fallen silent on your own. Panicked, you almost attempt to make a break for it, but the feeling of the gun pushed between your thighs makes you stiffen again.

You’re forced to look at the person in front of you. Their silhouette is a much smaller frame than you would’ve imagined, you realize now. You don’t have time to think about it, though. They’re the last thing you see as a cloth is pressed against your face, and the world fades away.

The sound of a gunshot rouses you from your unconscious state, but whatever you were drugged with is very much still in your system, so your world was still spinning far too much for you to figure out what was happening. The last thing you register before you fall unconscious again is Nancy’s voice.

You wake up with a churning in your stomach, and you roll over slowly to try to get in a different position to ease the waves of nausea. The room is dim, and you’re still out of it, so you’re completely unsure if you’re safe or not. That question is answered as you feel a cool wash rag pressing against your forehead and a glass of water being guided into your hands.

Nancy.

You try to sit up fast because you’re desperate to see Nancy’s face, but she stops you with a gentle hand. She mumbles soothing assurances of “it’s okay”, “you’re safe now”, “I’ve got you” as she guides you to sit up against the headboard of the bed. The drugs slowly leaving your system make it hard for you to make out any sort of expression on Nancy’s face. She doesn’t say anything until you’ve gulped down almost all of the water and the glass is set on the nightstand.

“Remember when you told me that keeping guns at my place was overkill?” She sits on the bed next to you, pulling you against her. You melt into her touch, brain still processing everything.

“What happened? How did I get home?”

Nancy calmly tells you about how she and Robin were getting worried that you didn’t call, so they both went out looking for you. Tears start streaming as she solemnly describes that you were knocked out when they found you, and her voice sounds far away as she tells you how she shot someone in the leg to disarm them until the police came. That explains the gunshot you heard, then.

Once you’re feeling more steady, she gets Robin to help bring you to the bathroom. Robin runs a bath while Nancy inspects the scrape on your knee. It’s started scabbing already, but she still makes sure to clean it. You ask for a kiss when she finishes. She’d never deny you that, especially in your quiet, needy state. Nancy covers your face in soft kisses, from your forehead to your cheeks to your lips. It makes her happy to hear you giggle under the affection.

Robin goes to leave the room as you get undressed for the bath, but you very meekly tell her she can stay too.

“I’ve gotta go take care of something, then I’ll be right back. Okay?” Robin assures you. You nod, letting Nancy help you into the warm water and start washing you. She scrubs your hair with your favorite shampoo, and gently rubs a washcloth over your skin. You frown when she gets between your thighs and you realize you’re sticky down there, but Nancy’s washed it away so fast you almost think you were imagining it.

“I don’t want to press it while you’re still shaken up,” Nancy says as she starts draining the tub. You tug the huge, fluffy towel tighter around your body as you wait for her to reorganize all of your bath supplies. “But this is why I told you never to be out at night without me. I need to protect you.”

“I know,” you whisper. She stands and pulls you into an embrace, not caring that your wet hair is soaking her sweater. “I know, Nancy. ‘M sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry about. But I’m not letting you out of my sight any time soon,” Nancy says firmly. You burrow your face further into her, sighing as you let her ground you, allowing her to take those flashes of memories of earlier tonight and assure you that you’ll never have to experience that again. “Maybe ever again.”

“I’m okay with that,” you laugh, but it’s more defeated than amused. Nancy smiles softly.

“Good.”

“Sorry, I had to…” Robin’s voice trails off. You turn in Nancy’s arms to look at her. She looks frazzled, but you suppose that makes sense considering everything. Her eyes dart to Nancy, and then she continues her train of thought. “Talk to the cops again. They were missing something from the report Nancy gave. I told them you didn’t want to talk, but they said they should have everything they need.”

You didn’t even know the cops showed up, but it must’ve happened while you were knocked out. You shake your head, affirming that you weren’t up for talking to the police. You trust that Nancy took care of everything. She kisses the crown of your scalp.

“Let’s get you to bed, babe,” Nancy whispers. You allow her to lead you to the bedroom, tugging on Robin’s shirt as you walk by her, signaling for her to come too. She hurries behind you.

Nancy tucks you in next to Robin after you’re in your pajamas, and the two of you are passed out almost immediately, Robin’s arms slung around your waist. She admires the scene of her two favorite people finding comfort in each other, taking her time with her own bedtime routine.

Wiping the little bit of makeup residue she still had on. Washing her face. Brushing her teeth. Changing into her silk pajama set. Turning off the lights.

As she’s getting into the bed on your other side, her foot knocks against something. She glares at Robin’s sleeping form, knowing very well who left her lockbox peeking out from under the duster. Nancy carefully pushes the metal container back underneath her bed, making sure the lock was snapped shut.

The last thing she wanted was for you to see the two pairs of black gloves tucked neatly underneath her gun. You’d certainly learned your lesson, so she was content in the knowledge that you would never need to see them again.

Nancy finally gets into the bed, pulling you against her. You mumble in your sleep, tucking your face into her neck automatically. Robin’s arm is still draped over you, her nose pressed against your shoulder. She smiles, lacing her hand with Robin’s resting on your hip.