|| ronance oneshots from AO3 ||

|| Auld lang syne ||

Written by @horrormoviebarbie at ao3

Fluff

Robin woke up with a killer hangover and a black eye.

The faintest streams of light trickled through the drawn curtains into their cozy little studio apartment overlooking Monument Circle. She could already hear the telltale rattle of Nancy puttering around at the coffee bar. Thank God. Not only did the champagne leave Robin feeling stuffy and a little bit queasy–but she tried popping the cork last night by themselves, and it flew back into her eye. Without a goofy pair of New Year's glasses to protect them like years past, Robin had no choice but to spend the rest of the night with a bag of frozen peas and carrots held against her face.

Coffee wouldn't bring the swelling down, but it would at least pull them out of the post-party funk.

Could it even be called a party?

Last year, everyone got together at Eddie and Steve's. Their apartment was filled with laughter and the clinking of champagne flutes. Happiness packed every room, and even spilled out onto the chilly balcony. Everyone packed into the living room like sardines, shoulders and thighs pressed together as they watched Andy Cohen and Anderson Cooper get wasted on TV. There were party games, and a potluck of appetizers, and hugs and kisses passed around at midnight without fear or concern.

This year, Robin and Nancy blew kisses to a mosaic of faces filling a computer screen. They'd gotten the hang of Zoom in the last year, but it was still awkward, and Robin didn't always know who to look at. So they usually stared at her own little face in the corner, tracking her expressions and wondering if they were too big. It was still nice, but actually being together would've been nicer, especially since there was a baby in the family now.

Pretty much from the get-go, Robin and Nancy agreed that motherhood wasn't in the cards for them. As in, they'd literally gone through the whole deck, plucked all those cards out, and tossed 'em.

Kids were cool, sure. They were cute, and Robin liked making funny faces at them in public until they giggled–but the buck stopped there. The best part about babies, maybe, was the fact that once she was done sticking her tongue out at them in the grocery store and watching them clap and gurgle with laughter, they didn't have to take them home. The mom life definitely wasn't for her.

But the cool, childless lesbian auntie life, on the other hand?

Robin would take that.

"Morning," they mumbled, voice scratchy and groggy with sleep.

Nancy looked over her shoulder and smiled. "Look who's finally awake." She had on nothing but an oversized Emerson t-shirt and a pair of Robin's plaid boxers. All those corny romcoms Steve loved so much were onto something: it was hot when a girl wore your clothes–especially when they weren't wearing much else. She nodded to the fuzzy white lump curled up at the foot of the bed. "I almost took Ruth on her walk without you."

At the mention of her name, Ruth Bader Ginsbark's wispy white tail began to slap lightly against the mattress. She pushed herself up onto her little paws, yawned, and arched back into downward-facing maltipoo.

"Oh, come on." Robin crawled down the mattress and flopped onto her belly. "It's not that late."