#oops i forgot

nancy still sleeps with a stuffed animal.

it's a cream colored bunny that she was gifted for her third birthday. her name is princess muffin.

she slept with it every night when she was growing up. she took it to friend's houses during sleepovers and on family vacations to the beach.

when she started eighth grade, she made a promise to herself that when she got to high school, she could no longer sleep with a stuffed animal anymore. she would be too old. teenagers don't sleep with stuffed animals.

on the night before the first day of her freshman year, she carefully placed princess muffin atop a stack of old quilts at the top of her closet. she planned to never look back.

that was until barb went missing.

the night after nancy talked to the police, she couldn't sleep. she spent the night staring at the ceiling, staring at the wall, and crying.

finally, when it reached four in the morning nancy's eyes were swollen, and her head was sore from spinning with thoughts. she tiptoed over to her closet, reached up to the top, and pulled out her stuffed bunny.

nancy still had tears in her eyes as she hugged the bunny close to her chest. it still smelled the same as it had two years ago, and the animal's fur felt exactly the same as she remembered.

though the sleep didn't come fast, she did finally get to sleep that night.

she never planned on princess muffin's return being a permanent thing, but once it literally genuinely felt like the world was beginning to end every few moths, sleeping with a stuffed animal didn't seem so bad anymore.

robin still sleeps with her baby blanket.

its a small green silk blanket with a cotton panel on the front sprinkled with flowers and little bluebirds.

she carried it around with her all of the time when she was little. it would follow her to the grocery store, to doctor's appointments, and to kindergarten orientation.

at orientation, her new teacher told her father that she wouldn't be allowed to bring her blanket to the first day of kindergarten.

when her dad explained this to her, she cried the entire car ride home. her dad explained that they would have to practice giving it up during the day to get ready for school, but she would always be allowed to have it at night.

robin adjusted fairly well, but always, without fail, would sleep with her blanket at night.

sometimes her mom would try to break her out of the habit.

"don't you think you're getting a little old for that, robs? you're almost thirteen."

robin would just shrug. it hurt a little, but not more than giving up her blanket would.

her mom would butt in a few more times before she graduated high school, but her mom ultimately realized that robin was going to do what she wanted to do, and if that was insisting on still sleeping with her security blanket, that is what was going to happen.

robin and nancy always quietly kept to themselves about their comfort items. they didn't even think much of it, until they shared a bed for the first time.

it was the first time robin stayed at nancy's. they had finished saving the world™ and were just starting to get used to spending time together outside the realm of interdimensional shenanigans.

when they were trying to sleep, and robin was tensely lying still while staring at the ceiling, nancy knew something was up.

"robin?"

robin didn't even reply to nancy, she simply tuned over and started talking.

"if i show you something, do you promise not to laugh or make fun of me or anything?

nancy nodded.

"of course"

robin got up out of bed and padded over to her canvas backpack that housed her clothes and her toothbrush, and she pulled out her baby blanket, and presented it in the air.

"this is my baby blanket and i usually sleep with it at home. i don't usually bring it anywhere, but last time i spent a night away from home i was either in a russian bunker or in the upside down so i'm not used to really... being out of my space, but i thought i would be fine to go somewhere without it, and honestly i probably would be fine if i just stared at the ceiling for a little longer and squeezed my eyes shut, i could probably fall asleep, but if we're going to be... you know... friends i figured i shouldn't be keeping secrets or whatever, and i know i'm literally 21 years old like genuinely a full blown adult but still i've never really..."

"robin."

"...spent much time away from home. even growing up, i never really had many friends and i was only really ever invited to one real sleepover..."

"robin."

"...and it was a birthday party and i had to leave early because they kept teasing me that a monster from their comic book was going to come and get us in the middle of the night and i got so scared that i had to calll..."

"robin!"

"yeah?"

"it's okay. you're okay."

robin took a deep breath.

"yeah?"

"first of all, i would never judge you for something like that. ever. second of all..."

nancy reached underneath her bed and pulled out her stuffed bunny.

"this is princess muffin."

robin smiled.

"princess muffin?"

"mhm. i sleep with her every night, but i figured, i don't know, i suppose i was also a little worried about being judged. so i put her under my bed for the night. i don't know. it might be silly but, she brings me comfort so..."

nancy shrugged.

"also we literally saved the world from monsters. if i want to sleep with a stuffed animal i'm going to sleep with a stuffed animal."

they bonded over their comfort items that night, and it even allowed them to be more vulnerable with each other in the future. especially when they started dating.

A beat, then another. Hen doesn't bother to elaborate. Buck doesn't insult her by asking. “Yeah,” he says instead. “Every day.”

“But you got better.”

“But I got better,” Buck agrees. He smiles at her, tucking any fears or doubts into the back of his mind, where her skin won’t get caught at the edges of them. “And you will too.”

“I hope so.”

There is something resigned in her voice, though, that makes Buck a little scared. “You will, Hen. We’ve gotten out of worse things than this.”

“Bobby didn't.”

And-- oh. Buck’s grip on the wine bottle tightens as he flinches. Bobby’s name lands between them with the force of a grenade, or perhaps an exploding firetruck.

“Bobby-” he swallows roughly. Puts the bottle down. “Bobby didn't let any of us help him.”

“So you think that I should’ve told you guys earlier too?”

There’s something sharp in Hen’s tone, and Buck has never known how to stay away from edges.

“I think that Chim was wrong for firing you.”

“But you don’t think that I should’ve hidden this from you.”

A shrug. “I mean- does it matter what I think? I get it, Hen. I would’ve done the same thing.” I did do the same thing is at the tip of his tongue, but that’s not quite true, is it? The shape of the situation is an echo, but the voices aren’t the same, the beats slightly off.

“So, what? You think I should’ve gone for a lawsuit instead?” And Buck startles again, because he’s not used to this. He’s seen everyone else at the 118 lash out before, was usually at the wrong end of it, because he’s never been great at self-preservation, but it’s never been from Hen. She had always watched them, steady and careful and the most ragged edges of her life kept hidden from them until she’d smoothed it over as best she can.

He wonders, abruptly, if she’d ever wanted to fall apart the way the rest of them did. In a way where someone knew enough to brace themselves for your fall.

So Buck doesn't answer her for a beat, picking up the glass of sparkling wine and placing it at her elbow instead. He sits next to her, watching her avoid watching him.

“I think that I’d made too many assumptions about you,” he says, honest. “I thought- god, Hen. I guess that I’d just thought that you being okay was a foregone conclusion. When you refused to be captain, I thought it was weird, but I assumed that you were taking some time for yourself. But- you were tired, weren’t you? And you were sad, and you were just waiting for the rest of us to catch up enough that you could show it. Except we never did.”

He doesn't know which of his words does it, but something crumples in Hen’s expression, and he puts an arm over her shoulder as she turns her face into the fabric of his shirt, a damp spot spreading over his arm. It is startling, as always, to remember that he is tall enough to hold her.

“Sorry,” she says, thick and muffled. “Sorry, I-”

“You’re fine, Hen.” Buck rubs his thumb over her shoulder, pressing a brief kiss to her head. He sort of wants to shake her gently, the way they would usually roughhouse a little in the station, but he remembers that he can’t, and feels a little heartbroken for it. “I haven't done my friend duties properly if you don't think you can cry on me once in a while.”

Hen laughs a little, teary. “You’re here now,” she says. “And-- sorry for what I said. And for lying to you. You did ask me that grief questionnaire. Maybe it would have been better for everyone if I’d just answered honestly then.”

“Hen, I wasn’t asking properly then,” Buck smiles down at her, holding her to his side. “And besides, I’m not going to be the one telling you not to do impulsive shit to try to get back to your family-- I mean, if we’re arguing that, then we can say that I should’ve talked to you before suing the entire goddamn department.”

“Well…”

“Shut up,” Buck squeezes Hen lightly, carefully, and waits until she shifts first to let her go. “I love you, Hen. You’re not losing me because of some stupid space disease. I’m way more stubborn than that. I wasn’t listening before, and I’m sorry for that. I’m listening, now.”

Hen squeezes her eyes shut tight, tight, tight, and tilts her head to rest on Buck’s shoulder. “When I beat this,” she says. “You owe me a red velvet cupcake.”