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eskawrites · 9 months

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6 😈

6. "Don't touch me."

It's only after everything that Nancy starts to feel exhausted.

She's a sweaty mess--from the adrenaline, from the running around and lighting fireworks, from the thick, humid heat that lingers in the July air even so long after sunset. And she's sore like a motherfucker, all the aches and bruises of being thrown around that hospital room finally settling deep into her bones now that the danger has, supposedly, passed.

But she is, for the most part, unharmed. They all are, despite the way Max and El are crying into each other's shoulders still, or the way Steve's face is hidden by blood and bruises.

Or the way Robin Buckley keeps flinching away from anyone who steps too close.

Nancy watches from across the parking lot as yet another EMT walks around to where Robin is sitting in the back of an ambulance. She's hunched in on herself, knuckles white around the blanket she clutches around her shoulders. She doesn't look as the EMT approaches, but she does stiffen.

"Where's Steve?" Nancy asks. She's not really sure if she's asking or just talking out loud, but Jonathan is the only one close enough to hear. He frowns a little at her.

"Sitting with Dustin, last I saw. Why?"

The EMT steps into Robin's space. He's saying something, but Robin just keeps glaring ahead, not reacting. Nancy pushes to her feet.

"Nance?" Jonathan murmurs behind her. Nancy ignores him and starts making her way across the parking lot.

She holds her breath as she watches the EMT reach out. Robin jerks away from his touch, face screwed up and elbows flailing. She catches him in the ribs, and he grabs her arm to still her.

Nancy is close enough now to hear Robin's sharp gasp, and then the whine that pulls, tight and reluctant, from her throat.

"Hey," Nancy says as she walks up, and her voice is tight, too, tense and sharp--not at all the calm, commanding demeanor she's been trying so hard to show all night. Robin freezes, eyes still closed, arm still held by the EMT. He glances at Nancy, who scowls pointedly at the hand holding Robin. Only then does he let go.

"Miss Buckley," he says, not even trying to hide his impatience, "we need to look at you. Your friend Steve said--"

"Steve was hurt worse," Robin mumbles. "I'm fine."

"The drugs are still in your system. We need to make sure--"

"I'm fine."

The EMT looks helplessly at Nancy. For a moment, she just keeps scowling at him--because really, what is she supposed to do?

But then, she had come over here, hadn't she? And what's the point if she's just going to walk away again?

So she sighs and nods a little. The EMT gives her a relieved look as he walks away again.

Nancy glances at Robin, who has at least opened her eyes again, even if she is glaring at Nancy.

"Robin--"

"Don't," Robin snaps. "Just don't, okay? I said I'm fine. I don't need you to--to check up on me, or whatever."

"You're not fine," says Nancy. "You just spent the night in a bunker being interrogated by the Russian military. Steve told us you guys were drugged. And that's not even getting into the whole 'monsters are real and they live in Hawkins' thing. No one would be fine after what you've been through."

Robin hesitates. She doesn't soften, but her lip trembles just slightly. She takes a soft, shaky breath, then sets her jaw and scowls at Nancy again.

"I don't need your help, Wheeler."

Nancy crosses her arms over her chest. "Will you just let someone check you out?"

"No."

"Look, I can go get Steve if--"

"I said no."

"But if you're hurt--"

"I'm not."

"Just--" Nancy reaches out instinctively. Robin swats her hand away.

"Don't touch me," she snarls, but there are tears in her eyes. She's pale, Nancy realizes. Really, really pale.

"I'm sorry," Nancy whispers. "I shouldn't have--I just want to help, Robin."

"Just--don't touch me." Robin closes her eyes, and Nancy sees a tear roll down her cheek. She breathes out and adds, hoarsely, "Please."

"Okay." Nancy says softly. She hesitates, then hops up into the truck to sit beside Robin. "Okay. Whatever you need."

Robin shakes her head. "I don't--I'm not--I am fine." She winces a little. "As fine as I can be."

"You should still let them look at you. The drugs--"

"But that's just it," breathes Robin. "The drugs. Those men. The way they dragged me and Steve around. Tied us up. Hit us. I just--I--I can't--I need--"

She cuts off, and Nancy has to squeeze her hands into fists to keep herself from reaching out for her again.

She thinks about the mindflayer, about the hospital room, about being pinned to the floor, certain she was going to die and unable to do anything but watch and wait for it. She imagines being stuck there for hours. She imagines doing it all while having no idea what's going on.

Suddenly, she's amazed Robin is even coherent at all.

"What can I do?" she asks.

For a moment, Robin doesn't do anything. But then she looks over at Nancy.

"And don't just say you're fine," Nancy adds. Robin's lips quirk up into a weak smile.

"I don't know," she says. "I don't--I mean, what the hell happens next? What am I even supposed to do?"

Nancy sighs and looks back out across the parking lot. That's always the question, isn't it? Her eyes catch another one of the EMTs moving from truck to truck, and she decides that's really the best answer she can give right now.

"I hear a doctor helps," she says, hoping the dryness in her tone sounds more sarcastic than mean. Robin sighs, but the tremor in her breath sounds more like a laugh than a sob. Nancy will take it.

"No needles," Robin says.

Nancy nods. "Fair enough."

Robin looks at her nervously, then, "...will you stay?"

Slowly, Nancy holds her hand out, palm up. Robin glances at it, then up at her. Then, fingers shaking, she reaches out and grabs Nancy's hand.

"Okay," she whispers. She swallows hard, but then she nods, looking a little more confident. "Okay."

Nancy squeezes her hand, then looks up and waves an EMT over.

#ronance #ho ho holy shit this got long #and took ages bc people kept trying to talk to me lmaooo #send me prompts get a drabble!#or whatever the heck this thing is #asks #bus-ghoul #writing things

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yoimix · 2 years

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𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 | 𝐚𝐥𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦

series: yoimix christmas event !! (๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)

pairing: alhaitham x reader

synopsis: if christmas is the season of giving, then you’re giving up on both alhaitham’s ability to play nice, and your teetering love life.

prompt: decorating the tree + mutual pining + modern au

genre: fluff, e2l

wc: 2.8k

warnings: language, this is just 90% bickering

a/n: holy shit i got derailed from the schedule but i finally decorated the tree with my family (and attempted fixing the busted christmas lights) so merry christmas, my sunshines!! hope you have a lovely time and a wonderful year ahead ❣️

Alhaitham is a man of many talents.

Choosing Christmas ornaments is not one of them. You’re not sure if it’s because he’s aesthetically impaired or if he genuinely never decorated a tree before—but shopping with him has been one hell of a nightmare. It’s a shame he’s been selected as the one to host this year’s Christmas party. Lucky for him, the good samaritan in you decided to help him out. (Even though he told you to not bother and ‘mind your own business’.)

Not because you’re regrettably in love with him.

This year, Fate decided to stitch you a get-along sweater from previous years’ antics because you’re stuck helping him. You couldn’t refuse when Nilou personally called you up to make sure the background for the Instagram posts aren’t downright grotesque (of course, she put it rather nicely but that’s what she meant). You’d take any excuse to see his handsome face and sketch a frown onto it.

“Why the fuck did you buy the yellow ones? They’re hideous!” You hold up the bells, colored a neon yellow with sparkly bits and pieces, and certainly not easy on the eyes. It’s borderline vomit-colored. You never know how he manages to pick the worst thing that has ever befallen your eyes every time.

“They were Buy 6 Get 6 free.” Alhaitham shrugs. How you wish you could knock the nonchalant look off his face.

“You don’t go by deals when you’re decorating!” You groan, exasperated. “Now we have twelve of these ugly motherfuckers.”

“They were also the first I saw in that aisle,” he answers, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand why you want to spend hours and hours walking around the department store when we can get the job done in five minutes.”

“Well, you’re doing a very sloppy job, bonehead.”

“At least we could get to the decorating part thanks to my intervention.” He crosses his arms. “Otherwise, we’d still be at the mall.”

“God, you are such a—ugh! Fine, let’s get on with it.”

Alhaitham hums in agreement—of course, he never bothers to spare more words than necessary. That’s an invitation to you, though, to provoke him till you have his full attention. Call it childish but you enjoy the cracks in his solid stances.

Besides, it’s not like he cares.

What you have is not a crush anymore—it’s festered into something more vile, more self-serving, and more fun. It’s not like it was back in college, when you could quarrel to your hearts’ content over assignments and exam scores. You have adult jobs now and seeing each other is much more irregular. You never expected silence to be so full of disquiet.

However, the Christmas reunion every year gets blood rushing to your arteries faster than you let on. There is no greater spectacle for your friends than you and Alhaitham trying to one-up each other over every little festive detail. Last year, it was a squabble over the Christmas music selection, and the year before it was about the photos not turning out quite so well (Refer: Alhaitham’s lack of aesthetic sense), and once it was even about who’s the better driver just because you decided to drive to midnight mass. Let’s not even get started on preparing Christmas dinner. At the very least, though, your friends get to enjoy extravagant gifts from your unspoken gift-giving competition. It’s not like you’ll let a man flash his dollars in your face when you earn just as much, if not more.

This year, obviously, you need to coach him on style.

“Don’t hang that on the tree—oh Jesus, I must personally apologize to you for whatever this heathen is doing to the tree. I promise I had no part in it—”

“Will you quit babbling and try to get shit done?”

You scoff. “I’d rather swallow concrete than let you put that up. I’m trying to save all of our eyes.”

“I highly doubt you have the capability.”

Alhaitham may not be that interested in this but like hell he’d let you do better. That’s the sort of man he is.

“You narcissistic ass…” You mutter, standing on your tiptoes to hang the rest of the little gift boxes.

“My, aren’t you sweeping self-awareness under the rug today?”

“Go fuck yourself, Alhaitham.”

You can feel the smirk on his face even if you don’t look up at him.

To be very honest, you’re quite comfortable with how it is. Any step further, and you’ll be falling and scraping your knees; any larger distance and you’ll be bored out of your mind.

“Not that.”

You pull Alhaitham back by his sweater, somehow uglier than yours when you’ve been winning ugly sweater competitions since age eight. Seriously, whatever Eldritch horror rendition of a llama is on his sweater freaks you out. Apparently his niece stitched it herself so you’ll cut him some slack. It’s rather sweet of him, even.

“If not these, then what?” Alhaitham sighs, holding back the little neon murderers of the Christmas spirit. “Do you want to leave half the tree plain?”

“Obviously not, idiot. I’ll fashion some dice into ornaments. Ooh, maybe I can wrap some fruits in aluminum foil and hang them. I’ll paint.”

“What a nuisance,” he mutters, eyelids lowered. You swear it’s your lips he’s staring at but that can’t be possible.

It must be a trick of the light. You look away, shifting your focus to the leftover fairy lights.

“And- and I have ribbons,” you continue, pretending you never noticed. “There’s also some Kalpalata lotuses we could stick in the branches. That’d be pretty, right?”

“Mhm, yes. Very unique.”

Your eyebrows travel halfway to your hairline. Alhaitham furrows his brows at your stunned silence, unsure of what caused the reaction.

“That’s the first time you’ve complimented me.”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”

Alhaitham’s serious response to your rivalry used to be your best validation. It’s not like you mind the occasional nice words though.

“Ooh, that makes me crave it more,” you tease, elbowing him as he purposely avoids your gaze.

“You get older but never wiser, do you?” He grumbles.

“Then, O Great Sage, what is your wisdom tonight?”

Alhaitham turns to you sharply, leaning in just enough to make your breath hitch in your throat. You can’t even take a step back for fear of the tree toppling. It seems he’s effectively grounded you. The lack of distance, however, does not fall inside your comfort zone. Is it terrible that you can’t stop staring? Everything about him is so annoyingly attractive, from the high cheekbones to the perfectly carved lips.

“I know you enjoy pushing my buttons,” he speaks by your ear, voice low. “And efficiency is not a key you’ve ever held. But let’s try, hm?”

You’re only cheeky out of habit. “Do you like watching me squirm? Pervert.”

Alhaitham breathes out, clearly accepting his defeat. “It’s five already. Everyone arrives in two hours.”

You shrug. “We’re pretty much done, aren’t we? Unless you want me put in an ice rink and a cocktail bar too, your highness.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. You’re starting to miss the biting retorts. “Did you check the lights like I asked you to?”

“Oh shit.”

The Christmas lights are at least eight feet long and you have no idea why he has these. This man does not look like he feels any emotion from fairy lights. They’re braided every five light bulbs, and much to your and Alhaitham’s chagrin, they flicker and die midway. They are pretty though, emanatinga. warm golden glow. Very

“God, I could be out partying right now,” you groan. “Why did I sign up for this?”

“That sounds like a plan. Please do me a favor and go partying.” Alhaitham takes the plug out of the socket, sighing. You press your lips into a thin line and snatch the plug, testing out the wiring. It’s just a little puzzle to solve. You’ve dealt with enough home electricals in your life. You can’t say the same for Mr Paper-for-brains.

“Despite your looks, you’re somehow the nerdiest loser I’ve ever met.” You huff, taking out each bulb and placing bits of aluminum foil to ensure the connections.

“What, because I don’t spend my Friday evenings inebriated?”

“Alcohol could do you some good, actually.”

He meets your retort with a sigh and you take it as a victory. You’re not some child throwing a tantrum that willful ignorance of your actions will get you to feel remorse.

“It’s already sunset.” Alhaitham clicks his tongue. “The clock’s ticking and you still haven’t rid your habit of messing around with every little thing you see.”

“I’m not messing around! I just wanna solve it like a puzzle.”

“We could just buy new ones,” he states, a deadpan stare directed at you.

“...Or we could do that.” You turn away, breaking eye contact. “But seriously, don’t you find joy in solving some problems the hard way? Like, you wouldn’t set fire to a puzzle as an attempt to solve it.”

Alhaitham pauses, lips parted slightly but he can’t come up with a retort. He’s probably just amazed at your exceptionally stupid example. Even if that was your attempt to salvage your ego, you’re not entirely lying. You wouldn’t be here right now if you didn’t have the tendency to take longer, more troublesome, and more scenic routes. Your original sin is never letting go.

“Cat got your tongue?” You offer him a sarcastic smile. “I know it’s not the same—”

“The way you think is quite fascinating,” he says quietly. “I don’t understand—I’m drawn to it.”

You swallow your own words. Out of all the possible sentences that could’ve come out of his mouth, that wasn’t the one you were expecting.

“You’re creative,” he hums, tapping his fingers against the couch headrest idly. “And you’re strange.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you.”

For the first time this evening, Alhaitham laughs. It’s dry, but it’s a deep sound nonetheless. You can’t take your eyes off him.

“Somehow, I can never understand you,�� he responds, leaning back against the wall. “Maybe I never will. You piss me off.”

You let go of the lights and move to sit on the couch arm, looking up at him with a wondrous smile.

“And yet, you always stare at my lips. Are you so eager for the profanities that leave them?”

“I do not.”

A subtle snarl twists his lips.

“Oh? You wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

“Do I now?”

His voice is raised, and he’s no longer leaning against the wall. This is getting exciting. You’d do anything to keep his eyes on you.

“Yes, and you can’t stand it,” you state your theory, even if you don’t believe in it. There are limits to the lengths you’ll go, but you haven’t reached there yet.

Alhaitham knits his brows, clearly soured with the exchange by now with his tense shoulders and deep frown. You quite like that look on him. Especially when he looks at you like that at this proximity. It’s an honor to rile up the Alhaitham, infamous throughout your academic life. You’re not so bad yourself.

You blow a raspberry at him. “Do it, coward. Kiss me.”

“You know what? Fucking gladly.”

Before you can process it, a soft pair of lips push against yours, while his hands hold you by the waist to keep you in place. You give in for a flash of a second, before you pull away with a gasp. That was not good for your heart. However, you’re not the only one in dire conditions.

Alhaitham is a sight to behold. His face is the color of ripe Henna berries—you’re not sure if it’s from the kiss or the fact that he’s still pissed off at you. You reach out to press your palm against his cheek, the gesture softening his gaze ever so slightly.

This time, you tug him in, the kiss hesitant at first before the two of you ease into it. When your noses bump, you hold back a giggle and you can feel him smile against your lips. Oh, you’ve never seen all these hues and shades before. You pull away, and he nearly chases your lips before his ego yanks him back by the collar.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” You smirk.

“Not a chance.”

“Then look me in the eyes.”

Alhaitham meets your gaze with no protest whatsoever, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek. Even in defeat, he manages to look like the arrogant bastard he is.

“Lying doesn’t suit you, sweetheart,” you tut.

Alhaitham raises an eyebrow.

“Tell me again, what you said to me at graduation.”

“What did I say?” You feign ignorance. At the time, it seemed like an appropriate response to him holding up his 4.0 over your 3.95. The goal was never just summa cum laude.

“That you hate me,” he answers, pulling you closer and closer till his mouth hovers above yours. “Tell me you hate me and call me a liar once more. I dare you.”

“I hate you,” you breathe against his lips, “I hate you so much.”

“Liar.” The smile against your lips is sweeter than holiday season. In fact, it might even be comparable to your rich chocolate cookies in ecstasy.

You pull away with a teasing smile. “Have you been thinking I hate you for all these years?”

Alhaitham rolls his eyes to the side, completely ignoring your remark.

“You like me, don’t you?” Your smile grows wider, a sudden rush of schoolgirl infatuation filling you.

“How in the ever loving fuck did you come to that conclusion?”

The sarcasm drips like honey off his voice. As if you couldn’t fall any further.

“Maybe you should kiss me again, so I can gather more evidence for a stronger conclusion. I wouldn’t go wrong with my hypothesis.” You lean in, grinning as brightly as the stars in the sky.

He hums, fighting back a smile. “Well, I do support the scientific method.”

“Okay, so whatever feud you’re having, I’m on (name)’s side—oh.”

Kaveh freezes at the doorway. Surely, the one image he never would’ve conjured up in his head was that of you sitting on the floor between Alhaitham’s legs, his arms wrapped around your waist as you sort through your Christmas cards. And the two of you are laughing. Is that not cause for concern?

“You know, when people are built like a coconut tree, they shouldn’t be standing in front of doors—oh.”

Cyno is your next victim, and his jaw drops less conspicuously than Kaveh’s does but it surprises him nonetheless. He swears on his gold star espeon card that he’d sooner expect Alhaitham to drop dead than admit his crush on you. No, even if he got over his emotional constipation, Cyno didn’t think you’d be at peace without pressing something to his throat. It truly is a Christmas miracle.

“Boys, can we not clog the doorway?” Dehya groans. “I get that this is the first time you knuckleheads have ever sensed emotion, but we saw this coming a mile away.”

“Oh, don’t be mean, Dehya,” Dunyarzad pokes Dehya’s side, causing the latter to giggle and wrap her arm around Dunyarzad’s waist. “Besides, you went into shock too when I suggested they might have a thing for each other.”

Dehya opens her mouth and closes it again. “You got me there.”

“Alright now, everyone,” Nilou stands on her tiptoes to peek over Kaveh and Dehya’s shoulders. “I set them up and I can’t see the fruit of my efforts.”

“You did what?!” You yell, getting pulled down by Alhaitham when you try to get up. Shooting him a glare, you get comfortable anyway.

“Oh, now you hear me.”

You try your best to not look offended. Alhaitham tilts his head to the side, an eyebrow raised in curiosity towards the information Nilou just dropped. There’s no schemes without him.

“You just needed an excuse and I knew—”

“Nilou, please stop talking, I’ll buy you more shiba inu figurines.”

“No bribe can—”

“Broadway tickets.”

Nilou makes a gesture of zipping her lips. “My lips are sealed, your highness.”

Alhaitham sighs, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You do know that I’m aware of your advances? You’re not very subtle.”

Your jaw drops, offended. “I thought I was being sexy and flirty and mysterious.”

“You were literally none of those. All you did was drive me up a wall.”

“But did that work?”

“Yes.”

Kaveh makes a gagging sound. “If you guys start making out during Nightmare before Christmas, I will vomit all over you.”

“Did you pay rent or are you going to dirty someone else’s living room?” Alhaitham asks.

Kaveh looks away, whistling a note. It elicits a wave of laughter, and like dominoes, Christmas eve is set into motion. The presents line the base of the tree, the lights have been dimmed till only the fairy lights shine, and Alhaitham has started the hallmark movie after much grumbling.

Maybe the Christmas spirit has some meaning after all; and you could debate this with your boyfriend, but it is the most wonderful time of the year to celebrate anniversaries.

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