Finally doneee. All credits go to @lavenderstobins for because this is completely based their fic 'leave the speaker on and stay' which is an AMAZING alternate meeting stobin fic that you should totally check out if you haven't!!
Also you can definitely tell when I got tired and stopped before resuming a different day lol.
Nancy and Eddie stand shoulder to shoulder watching as their respective partners hold each other so close that God himself would never be able to extricate one from the other. Robin and Steve whispering a million and a half platonically sweet nothings to each other as they sway in place, the motion clearly soothing to both of them. Reuniting after so long, their indefinite separation finally coming to a close.
Nancy turns her head just slightly and addresses Eddie in an oh so soft voice.
"Does it ever bother you?"
Eddie glances out of the side of his eye towards her.
"Does what bother me?"
"That neither of us will ever be able to hold a candle to that?"
Eddie watches the two as they slowly, slowly spin in a circle; pressed so close, they may as well be trying to become one person.
"No, not really."
Nancy hums in response, like maybe she's not so sure where she stands on the matter yet.
"It's nice to know that if something happens to me, he'll still have her."
"I guess that makes sense."
"Plus, I'm pretty sure it's impossible to be everything for someone, and trying is a good way to burn yourself out. He already barely has parents -"
"I think Hopper might take offense to that statement ."
"Point being," Eddie cuts back in, "he deserves more love than I can give him alone, and I'm okay with that. I think there are things we will never understand about their friendship, and we just have to accept that."
Nancy sighs but turns her attention back to Steve and Robin. They've sunk to the ground at this point, foreheads touching eyes closed breathing deeply together like they are sharing only the air between them.
Another few breaths pass between them before Nancy's posture relaxes and she turns back to Eddie.
"I think you might be right this time Munson."
Eddie steps forward, intent on joining the two on the ground.
"Oh, I'm right a lot of the time, you guys just never listen to me."
nancy and robin both living in massachusetts... the first state to legalise same-sex marriages in 2003... which has the town with the most lesbian couples per capita in the entire united states... do u see what I am saying here
synopsis ➜ the aftermath of robin’s “how are the babes at emerson?” question. because she had already known the answer
june 1989 — hawkins, indiana
Nancy’s door clicked shut with the gentlest, most guilty sound in the world. Like even the latch of the door knew it was keeping a secret.
Her room looked almost exactly the way it always had. The same pale, soft, wallpaper, the same dresser with the things she’d left when she left for Boston, the same desk that still carried the faint indentation of countless notebooks from too many late-night study sessions or trying to piece clues together. The same window that faced the quiet cul-de-sac, the same faint glow from the street lights cutting a warm edge across the carpet.
But everything felt different.
Because Robin Buckley was in it.
Not downstairs. Not at the dinner table or perched on the edge of the couch, acting like a guest in a house that wasn’t hers.
Up here, behind the closed door, Robin looked like she belonged in a way that made Nancy’s heart do something stupid.
Robin stood in the middle of the room for a moment, hands shoved into the pockets of her overalls, she had that look she always wore when she was trying to pretend she wasn’t nervous.
The “babes at Emerson” comment had followed them into the Wheeler home and up the stairs like a mischievous ghost.
Nancy leaned back against the door, arms folded, wearing the kind of expression she saved for people who thought they could get away with something. “So…” she said, drawing the word out, letting it hang between them, “how are the babes at Emerson?”
Robin’s face did something that was almost a grimace, and almost a grin. “I—okay, in my defense,” she waved a hand, as if she could physically push the memory away. “I was, like, trying to make conversation.”
“You were trying to make the boys laugh,” Nancy corrected, eyes narrowing with fond accusation.
“Okay, yes, also that.” Robin exhaled through her nose, then shook her head like her own brain was too much for her. “It was a group setting. There were beverages. I was being Social Robin.”
“Social Robin,” Nancy repeated, voice syrupy.
“Don’t,” Robin warned, but it came out soft. Her cheeks were pink, slightly, the way they always were when she was embarrassed and trying not to show it. She looked at Nancy’s bed, at the neatly folded quilt, at the pillows arranged with Nancy’s own careful touch, and then back at Nancy like she was asking permission without saying it.
Nancy pushed herself off the dresser and crossed the room in a few steps. “You can sit,” she said gently, as if Robin needed reminding that up here, at least, she didn’t have to hover like she was ready to bolt.
Robin sat on the edge of the bed, careful, like it might collapse under the weight of this. She pulled her knees up, sitting criss-cross, and the motion made her look younger than she was. Like a girl pretending she wasn’t waiting for the world to decide what kind of person she was allowed to be.
Nancy sat beside her, close enough that their shoulders brushed. It was nothing, really. Just sitting close.
Downstairs, the house hummed with life. The clink of forks and laughter that sounded like Dustin mixed with Max’s bright, surprised, laugh. The soft murmur of Karen Wheeler’s voice trying to keep everyone as civilized as possible. And down in the basement, Holly and her friends were probably arguing over dice rolls and campaign plotlines.
It was everything Nancy had wanted for so long. No more monsters. No more gates bleeding into their world. Just a house that smelled like home-cooked meals and the sound of conversation and laughter from Mike and his friends.
And Robin, sitting beside her like the most impossible kind of normal.
Nancy turned her head, looking at Robin’s profile. The line of her nose. The way her mouth pinched when she was thinking too hard. Robin’s hair had grown, curled a little now, soft at the ends, and it made her look like someone who belonged in college brochures. Bright-eyed, wind-touched, alive.
Nancy’s throat tightened with something warm and painful.
“So…” Nancy said again, quieter this time, and she let her shoulder press more deliberately against Robin’s. “How are the babes at Smith, Robin?”
Robin’s head turned toward her quick. “Oh my God…”
Nancy’s smile widened. “I mean, I’m sure Northampton is crawling with them.”
Robin made a strangled sound that might’ve been a laugh if she wasn’t also clearly dying inside “No—okay, first of all, no. Second of all, you can’t—“ She pointed at Nancy in her laid position. “You can’t do that.”
“You did it to me,” Nancy said, voice sweetly triumphant.
“That was different.”
“Is it?”
Nancy almost laughed as she said it, but she didn’t, not exactly. She reached out, slow and careful, and placed her hand on Robin’s knee.
It was a simple touch.
Robin still froze the tiniest bit, as if her body had to decide whether it was safe to fully relax. Then she exhaled, letting herself lean into it, just a little, like Nancy’s hand was an anchor.
Nancy’s thumb moved once, a small stroke over the denim of Robin’s overalls.
Robin’s gaze dropped to Nancy’s hand, and something in her face softened, something unguarded and sweet. “You,” she said, like she was pointing out an unfair advantage, “are not allowed to weaponize sincerity during an argument.”
Nancy’s lips curved. “And you’re not allowed to act like you didn’t start this.”
Robin’s lips quirked, reluctant, and then she sighed dramatically, flopping back onto Nancy’s pillows like a martyr. Her hair fanned out, her hands going to her face. “Fine. Okay. I accept my fate. I will be teased to death by Nancy Wheeler in her childhood bedroom.”
Nancy shifted, leaning over her a little, bracing one hand near Robin’s shoulder. She could feel the warmth of Robin’s skin that showed open around her collarbones. She could smell Robin’s shampoo, something citrusy, and underneath that, the faint trace of the air outside, the late spring and asphalt and car rides and a slight trace of beer.
“You deserve it,” Nancy said, hovering close.
Robin’s eyes darted to Nancy’s face, and for a moment, the joking fell away. Her gaze held, steady and intense, like she was memorizing Nancy. Like she still couldn’t believe this was all real.
Nancy’s stomach fluttered and she lifted her other hand, hesitated for the briefest moment, and then gently cupped Robin’s cheek.
Robin went utterly still. Not stiff, just reverent. Like Nancy’s hand was something sacred.
Nancy’s thumb brushed the edge of Robin’s cheekbone. “You know,” Nancy murmured, “when you said that… about the babes at Emerson…”
Robin groaned, closing her eyes. “Oh my God, no, please—”
“I wanted to laugh,” Nancy continued, ignoring her. “Because it was ridiculous. And because you were trying so hard to make it sound normal. For me.”
Robin opened one eye, suspicious. “It was normal. I’m very normal. Extremely normal.”
Nancy smiled, and it was soft, not teasing. “But I also wanted to pull you aside and say…” She hesitated, because the words still felt dangerous, even up here. Even with the door shut. Even with the house full of people who loved them and had no idea what was happening in the room above them.
Robin watched her, breath held.
Nancy leaned closer, voice dropping to the kind of hush that belonged to confessionals. “I wanted to say, you know you don’t have to ask me that like it’s a joke anymore.”
Robin’s throat bobbed. Her eyes went glossy for a second, like tears were an old reflex.
Nancy’s hand slid from Robin’s cheek to the back of her neck, fingers threading into the soft hair there. “Because I’m not at Emerson,” Nancy said, almost smiling. “And you know why.”
Robin’s lips parted. She swallowed, trying to find her voice. “Because you’re at the Herald,” she managed, voice thin.
“Yes,” Nancy said, and then, quietly, “And because I’m with you.”
Robin’s eyes fluttered shut like she couldn’t take the weight of that sentence, in that moment, looking at her.
Nancy leaned in and pressed a kiss to Robin’s temple. It was gentle, lingering, like she was sealing the words into place. Robin shuddered, a tiny exhale escaping her as if she’d been holding her breath for months.
“Nancy,” Robin whispered, and her voice broke on the name.
Nancy pulled back just enough to look at her. “What?”
Robin’s hands came up slowly, tentative at first, and then she held Nancy’s wrists, like she needed to make sure Nancy didn’t disappear. “You can’t just say things like that,” Robin murmured. “You can’t just—” She swallowed, eyes shining. “You make it sound so… easy.”
Nancy’s chest tightened. “You know it’s not easy.”
Robin’s laugh was wet and small. “Okay, no, yeah, fair, the whole ‘secretly dating in a world that almost ate us alive’ thing isn’t exactly… simple.”
Nancy’s mouth twitched. “And yet.”
“And yet,” Robin echoed, softer.
Nancy slid her hands down, letting her fingers lace with Robin’s. Their hands fit together in a way that felt absurdly right. Robin’s palm was warm, her fingers slightly calloused, guitar strings, maybe, or the restless habit of fidgeting.
Downstairs, someone called for more drinks, Dustin’s voice, unmistakable even muffled, followed by Will’s quieter reply. A chair scraped. Plates clinked. The normal world continued, oblivious.
Robin exhaled slowly, her breath warm through Nancy’s shirt. “It’s weird,” she murmured. “That this is happening.” Robin’s voice was soft, like she was afraid to scare the moment away. “That we’re just… up here. And everyone’s down there. And nobody knows.”
Nancy’s throat tightened. “Yeah?”
Robin’s fingers traced idle patterns against Nancy’s hand, like she needed something to do with the feeling. “When I first got to Smith,” she said quietly, “I thought—I thought maybe it would be… different. Like maybe the world would be more… roomy, you know? Like there’d be space to breathe… after it all.”
Nancy tipped her head slightly, listening.
“But I’m still…” Robin laughed softly, bitterly. “I’m still me. I still look over my shoulder. I still hear my mom’s voice in my head, telling me what’s ‘appropriate.’ I still—” She hesitated. “I still feel like if I want something too much, something bad will happen again.”
Nancy swallowed hard. “Robin…”
Robin lifted her head, looking at Nancy now. “And then you…” Her voice cracked slightly, but she pushed through it. “You show up. You—Nancy Wheeler, who used to look like she had the whole world planned out, shows up and you… you look at me like you’re not afraid.”
Nancy’s eyes stung.
Robin’s gaze was intense, almost pleading. “And it makes me feel brave,” she whispered. “And then it makes me feel stupid, because what if bravery is just… temporary? What if it goes away the second someone knocks on the door?”
Nancy’s heart pounded so hard she could feel it in her throat.
She reached up and tucked a piece of Robin’s hair behind her ear, slow. “Bravery isn’t a switch,” Nancy said softly. “It’s… practice. It’s a thing you do even when you’re terrified.”
Robin blinked, tears gathering but not falling.
Nancy leaned forward, resting her forehead against Robin’s. “And I am afraid,” Nancy admitted. “All the time. I’m afraid of my parents finding out. I’m afraid of Boston chewing me up and spitting me out. I’m afraid of hurting… you.”
Robin’s breath hitched.
Nancy’s voice dropped even lower. “But when I’m with you, it’s like… there’s a part of me that can finally stop apologizing for existing.”
Robin’s eyes squeezed shut, one tear finally slipping down her cheek.
Nancy kissed it away without thinking—just a soft press of her lips to Robin’s skin, like she could erase the sadness with tenderness.
Robin’s hands came up and held Nancy’s face, palms warm, thumbs trembling at Nancy’s jaw. “You’re going to ruin me,” Robin whispered, voice half-laughing, half-crying.
Nancy’s lips curved, soft. “Good.”
Robin let out a shaky breath that turned into a laugh, and for a moment she looked like herself again, wry and brilliant and overwhelmed. “That is so—” She huffed. “That’s so aggressive, even for you, Nancy Wheeler.”
Nancy’s eyes flickered with playful defiance. “You don’t know everything about me.”
Robin’s grin was watery. “I know a lot.”
Nancy tilted her head, challenging. “Do you?”
Robin’s eyes sparkled with renewed mischief, like the teasing had circled back around into safety. “Oh, I knew you dropped out of Emerson and became a trainee at the Boston Herald because you can’t stand being told to sit down and shut up before everyone else did.” She ticked it off on her fingers. “I know that sometimes, you drink your coffee too fast and then regret it immediately. I know you pretend you don’t care what people think, but you do, because you care about everyone even when you’re mad at them. I know you still keep a spare pen and notebook in your bag like you’re going to be ambushed by a story at any moment.”
Nancy’s mouth twitched. “Okay, stalker.”
Robin gasped. “Excuse you, I am your secret girlfriend. It is literally my job to notice your tiny, weird habits.”
Nancy’s heart did a small, stupid flip at the phrase ‘secret girlfriend’ being said out loud, even in a joke.
Nancy’s smile softened. “What else do you know?”
Robin’s gaze dropped to Nancy’s lips for a second, and her voice lowered. “I know you do this thing,” she murmured, “where you get very still right before you kiss me, like you’re—like you’re making sure you’re allowed to.”
Nancy’s breath caught.
Robin’s thumbs brushed lightly along Nancy’s jaw. “And I know you don’t have to ask,” Robin whispered. “Not with me.”
Nancy’s throat tightened with emotion so sharp it almost hurt. She stayed still anyway, because Robin was right, she did get still, every time. Like her body was waiting for permission the world hadn’t given her.
Robin leaned in first, slowly. Giving Nancy time to pull away if she needed to.
But Nancy didn’t pull away.
Their kiss was gentle. Soft pressure, warm and careful, like they were both handling something fragile and precious. Robin’s hands cupped Nancy’s face like she was afraid Nancy might vanish. One of Nancy’s hands slid to Robin’s waist, steadying her, grounding them both.
The house noise blurred into a distant wash, like a radio in another room.
When they parted, Robin kept her forehead resting against Nancy’s, eyes closed, breathing shallow. “Okay,” she whispered.
Robin’s eyes opened, and there was something bright and determined in them. “Okay,” she repeated, voice steadier now. “I’m—” She swallowed. “I’m here. Right now. In Hawkins. In your room. With you. And nobody is knocking on the door. And even if they do, I can—” She tried to laugh, but it came out shaky. “I can probably climb out the window. I’m surprisingly nimble. Like a raccoon.”
Nancy snorted, the sound bursting out of her in spite of the emotion. “A raccoon?”
Robin nodded solemnly. “A beautiful, elegant raccoon.”
Nancy shook her head, smiling so hard her cheeks ached. She leaned in and kissed Robin again, this time with a little more confidence, a little more certainty.
Robin made a soft sound against her lips, something like relief.
Nancy pulled back just enough to look at her. “You don’t have to climb out the window,” she murmured.
Robin raised an eyebrow. “Bold claim.”
Nancy’s smile faded into something sincere. “I mean it,” she said. “Not tonight. Not here. Not like we’re doing something wrong.”
Robin’s eyes shimmered again. “Nancy…”
Nancy tucked Robin closer, guiding her gently down onto the bed again, not in a rushed way, just easing them into comfort. Robin followed, curling against Nancy’s side, her head resting on Nancy’s shoulder now, their hands still intertwined on the quilt.
Nancy stared at the ceiling for a moment, listening to the house breathe.
Downstairs, someone called her name, Karen probably, asking if they wanted some food. Nancy didn’t answer immediately. Instead, her chest tightened with the familiar instinct to be the responsible one, to go downstairs, to be apart of all the craziness.
Robin’s fingers squeezed hers gently, a silent question.
Nancy swallowed, then called back, voice steady, normal. “We’ll be down in a minute!”
The lie slid easily into place, because it was half-true. They would go down. Eventually. They would smile and eat pie and pretend.
But right now, they had this minute.
Robin turned her face into Nancy’s shoulder and laughed softly, like she couldn’t believe Nancy had said it so easily. “God,” she whispered. “You’re good at that.”
Nancy’s throat tightened. “Yeah,” she murmured. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”
Robin’s voice was quiet, gentle. “You don’t have to practice with me.”
Nancy closed her eyes, letting the words sink in like warm water.
Her hand lifted, fingers brushing through Robin’s hair slowly, feeling the softness, the slight wave. Robin melted into the touch, her whole body loosening like a knot untied.
“Nance?” Robin’s voice was small, almost hesitant.
“Mm?”
Robin shifted, turning slightly so she could look at Nancy’s face. Her eyes were bright, serious. “When you said… you were afraid of hurting me,” she said softly, “what did you mean?”
Nancy’s breath hitched. She stared at Robin for a moment, seeing too much in her, seeing the way Robin carried old wounds, the way she tried to joke her way out of fear, the way she looked at Nancy like Nancy was proof that something good could happen without punishment.
Nancy swallowed. “I mean…” Her voice was careful. “I mean I’m afraid that… my life is too messy. That my family is… complicated. That my job is going to take everything out of me. That Boston’s going to change me.”
Robin watched her, still.
“And I’m afraid,” Nancy continued, quieter, “that you’ll… love me anyway and it will cost you.”
Robin’s face softened into something achingly tender. “Nancy,” she whispered, like Nancy was being ridiculous.
Nancy shook her head slightly. “It’s not ridiculous,” she insisted. “It’s real. People—” She swallowed. “People like us don’t get to…just exist without consequences.”
Robin’s eyes flickered with pain and understanding.
Nancy’s voice dropped, fierce and honest. “And I’m tired of consequences,” she said. “I’m tired of losing things. I’m tired of… being punished for wanting something.”
Robin’s hand lifted, fingertips brushing Nancy’s cheek. “Then don’t let it punish you,” Robin murmured.
Nancy laughed softly, incredulous. “That’s easy for you to say.”
Robin’s mouth quirked. “I didn’t say it was easy. I said… don’t let it.” She swallowed, eyes shining. “Let it be yours.”
Nancy stared at her.
Robin’s voice shook, but she kept going. “I mean, I tell you a lot, Smith is—” She hesitated, searching. “It’s… good. It’s different. There are professors who talk about women like we’re… real. There are girls who don’t apologize for being them. There are—” She cut herself off, breath catching. “There are moments where I almost forget to be scared.”
Nancy’s heart ached.
Robin’s thumb brushed Nancy’s cheekbone, gentle. “And then I think about you,” she whispered. “And I remember that there’s a place in this world where you exist. Where you’re doing what you want. Where you’re… you.”
Nancy’s eyes stung.
Robin gave a small, shaky smile. “So maybe Boston changes you,” Robin said softly. “Maybe the Herald chews you up a little. Maybe your mom looks at me like she’s trying to solve a puzzle. Maybe your dad is cold.”
Nancy’s breath caught.
“But you’re still you,” Robin finished, voice steady now. “And I’m still me. And we’re still… this.” She squeezed Nancy’s hand, like that was the proof. “And that matters. Even if we have to be careful.”
Nancy’s throat worked. She nodded once, because if she tried to speak she’d fall apart.
Robin leaned forward and kissed her again, slow, grounding, like she was stitching Nancy back together.
When they pulled apart, Nancy let her forehead rest against Robin’s, eyes closed, breathing in the steadiness.
Downstairs, someone laughed again. A chair scraped. The world continued to spin.
In the basement, Holly shouted something triumphant, and a chorus of kids protested dramatically.
Robin’s voice was barely a whisper. “So,” she said, and Nancy could hear the smile in it even before she saw it. “Boston Herald trainee?”
Nancy’s eyes opened, and she looked at Robin’s face, at the admiration there, the teasing, the love.
Nancy’s mouth curved. “Yeah?”
Robin’s grin widened. “Do the babes at the Boston Herald know what they’re dealing with?”
Nancy’s laugh burst out, bright and startled, and she shoved Robin lightly with her shoulder. “Oh my God.”
Robin cackled softly, delighted with herself.
Nancy shook her head, smiling so hard it hurt. “You’re impossible.”
Robin’s eyes softened. “You like it.”
Nancy stared at her for a beat too long, because the truth was so big and tender it felt like it might swallow her whole.
“I do,” Nancy admitted quietly. “I really do.”
Robin’s expression went still, emotional, like she was absorbing every syllable as if she needed it to survive.
Then Robin scooted closer, tucking herself into Nancy’s side again, and Nancy wrapped an arm around her without hesitation, holding her like it was the most natural thing in the world.
They stayed like that, listening to the house, letting the normal sounds wrap around them like a blanket.
For this minute, they were just two girls in a bedroom, safe and warm, with lasagna smells in the air and laughter downstairs and a whole world outside the window that didn’t get to touch them yet.
And for the first time in a long time, Nancy let herself believe, just for a minute, that she could have something soft.
That she could have Robin.
That she could hold onto it.
Robin’s voice drifted up, sleepy and content. “We should probably go downstairs before your mom sends a search party.”
Nancy smiled into Robin’s hair. “Probably.”
Robin didn’t move.
Nancy didn’t either.
Another minute passed.
Then another.
Because sometimes, when the world finally gives you peace, you don’t rush to hand it back.
I know you wanted to be a bit more active here and discuss Maya and Carina, so if you’re interested, what are your top 5 Marina moments of the series?
Thank you for this! It's always hard to answer a top 5 question because my favorite moments are A LOT and they tend to shift, but tentatively, here is my answer.
The morning scene (517).
This one is set in stone. It's THE Marina scene for me. I still remember the first time I watched it, the intimacy of it knocked the wind out of my lungs and I started crying. It's so domestic and tender and real, it feels like getting a glimpse at the everyday intimacy of these two wives. I don't have much to say about it because to me, this scene is just perfection. This IS Marina.
2. The fight at the hospital (607)
That scene has so many layers. What I love, and what makes that scene hurts so bad, is that the root emotion of the scene is love, for both characters. Carina sees the damage Maya has caused to herself and she is desperate to help her, but she has reached a point where she knows Maya won't listen and risks hurting herself even worse (if she goes home, she could literally DIE). So even if it means making herself into the 'bad guy', even if she knows that Maya is not in the condition to understand, even if she might hate her for forcing her to stay in the hospital, she loves Maya enough to put Maya's wellbeing over her own heart.
At the same time, Maya's anger and despair, which are so raw in that scene, come from the fact that she feels not only betrayed but abandoned by the person she loves the most. We know from the abuse Lane inflicted on her, that it is triggering for Maya to not have control over her own body. Here she is at her most vulnerable, her body literally doesn't work, and instead of 'freeing' her and helping her, she perceives Carina as trapping her, as doing essentially what Lane used to do to her. She cannot see that what Carina is doing is saving her life, she is too badly triggered. And when she lashes out, even when she throws Andrea's death in Carina's face, she isn't doing it out of malice. She is doing it because she is terrified and hurt and she doesn't understand how Carina could do this to her. She is crying when she sees Carina leave. She threatens her because she sees it as her last resort, tries to make herself sound cold and emotionless. But Carina leaves anyway and what does Maya do? She starts sobbing like a scared kid. She literally almost has a panic attack. It's devastating. A lesser actor would have played those final lines with anger, instead Danielle reads them as someone who is beyond desperate and terrified.
It's gut-wrenching in the best way possible. And I also feel particularly attached to it because it felt like watching a scene from one of my fics come alive on the screen (though less angsty than what I wrote bc what I wrote was definitely too dark for ABC lol).
3. Truth or Scare (704)
If only the rest of Maya and Carina's journey as new moms this season had been handled with the same care and delicacy as this scene. The entire episode is masterful but this scene is in a league of its own (and a lot of it has to do with Stefania's directing choices). We got to see them be vulnerable with each other, the way they communicate shows how much they've grown as a couple. We truly feel, maybe for the first time, the impact of Liam in their lives. The little touches, the way they draw comfort from each other's proximity, the openness with which they express their fears, Carina basically climbing on top of Maya and burying her face in her neck to sleep, Maya wrapping her arms around her protectively and casting one final glance at Liam to make sure he's ok before letting herself fall asleep. It's perfect. It's beautiful. It's real. I wish I could see a version of this season that was written and directed the way this scene was.
4. "I want to hold a little you" (507)
Whenever someone foolishly tries to say that Carina doesn't love Maya as much as Maya loves her, I redirect them to this scene. The way Carina looks at Maya here, with tears in her eyes and wobbly lips and adoration written all over her face... she is so hopelessly in love with her wife. And the fact that Maya's entire dream when she imagines having a baby is a little version of her wife that she can love and cherish makes me want to cry. I still wish they could have gotten this (and idc about those idiotic dreams/flashforwards, I don't consider them canon, and their next baby will have dark hair like Carina).
5. The slow dance/hug after the wedding (501)
I go back to this scene so often whenever I'm writing because to me, it perfectly embodies who Maya and Carina are, how their love is each other's safety net, how they have their own language that's made entirely of looks and touches. There is an entire conversation going on in this scene and not a single word is being uttered. It's a sad moment but it's also magical.
There are so many others I wish I could include: Maya apologizing to Carina (615), the lasagna scene (307), Maya telling Carina she wants to go on vacation with her (310), Maya getting Carina to scream (407) and many more. There are so many scenes that I adore, they are truly a special couple.
But there is one specific moment I want to highlight.
BONUS: Sleeping on the floor in the bunk next to Andy (515)
This isn't really a scene, it's more of a moment, but it is a moment that is so dear to my heart. I've said before that the way they "handled" the reveal that Carina is a SA survivor was abysmal and just as bad as the way they dropped that storyline for Andy. To use such a traumatic background as nothing more than a throwaway line to make Carina bond with Jack and push the donor storyline was offensive in too many ways to count, even more so when they never mentioned it again nor was it ever brought up with Maya, her WIFE. But then, you have that tiny moment (which is so powerful solely thanks to Stefania and Danielle's performance). And even though it was never outright stated in the show, to me, THAT moment is the confirmation that Maya knows about Carina's past.
There is something so heartbreakingly beautiful about the way Carina curls into Maya, how she falls asleep with her face pressed to her neck, how we see that Maya is still awake while Carina is dozing off, protectively holding her hand and arm. Maya makes Carina feel safe, she is her home and her stronghold and it has never been more evident than in that little moment. And the same goes for Maya's love and protectiveness of her wife. Maya would cut off her own limb to keep Carina from harm. I so wish we could have gotten a scene, or even just a moment, between them where Carina's past is mentioned. But since we never did, I take this moment as proof that they had that conversation we were never privy to.
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