[ the wheeler family vacation was, as predicted, average at best. they're all so damn shaken ( except Ted, maybe, somehow, but mostly because he's completely oblivious ) that it takes most of their time there just trying to relax. it's been months since the mindflayer tried to destroy hawkins, but it's all still fresh. like, too fresh. shit.
but the lake was nice. quiet. they got to stay in a cabin which was just different enough from their home in hawkins that they could pretend, maybe, that none of it was real. why not, right? they agreed not to talk about it, unless a nightmare hit one of them hard enough that they had to. it wasn't all bad, though. nancy got to lay out by the lake with a book more often than not, and mike managed to talk their parents into getting him a giant lego set to work on. which he did, of course. and that's fine.
can't get a spiteful sunburn if he didn't spend too much time out in the sun.
but nancy's a little bit tanner, a little more freckled, and a little bit more relaxed as they all pile into the car to head back. mike's lego delorean is jammed against her ribs, but it's fine. whatever. it's just a five hour drive.
-- six and a half, with traffic.
she's not sure how she ended up on steve's porch only hours after they got home and brought all of their bags in the house, but there she is. their last conversation hadn't ended great, and she knows he's not going to want to hear another apology from her, but maybe he would. in person. maybe she could manage that much, and see for herself just how fine his "it's fine" face is.
his dad answers when she knocks on the door, and she's not even sure he recognizes her at first, but his brows do lift a bit when she re-introduces herself. ] Steve! [ he hollers up the stairs behind him instead of walking away to get steve, invites her into the livingroom after a moment of waiting ]
STEVE, come down stairs! It's that little friend of yours- Nancy Wheeler!
[ ... okay yeah they are definitely not going to be having a conversation here, nope. maybe the ice cream shop just down the road. or- literally anywhere else ]
but the lake was nice. quiet. they got to stay in a cabin which was just different enough from their home in hawkins that they could pretend, maybe, that none of it was real. why not, right? they agreed not to talk about it, unless a nightmare hit one of them hard enough that they had to. it wasn't all bad, though. nancy got to lay out by the lake with a book more often than not, and mike managed to talk their parents into getting him a giant lego set to work on. which he did, of course. and that's fine.
can't get a spiteful sunburn if he didn't spend too much time out in the sun.
but nancy's a little bit tanner, a little more freckled, and a little bit more relaxed as they all pile into the car to head back. mike's lego delorean is jammed against her ribs, but it's fine. whatever. it's just a five hour drive.
-- six and a half, with traffic.
she's not sure how she ended up on steve's porch only hours after they got home and brought all of their bags in the house, but there she is. their last conversation hadn't ended great, and she knows he's not going to want to hear another apology from her, but maybe he would. in person. maybe she could manage that much, and see for herself just how fine his "it's fine" face is.
his dad answers when she knocks on the door, and she's not even sure he recognizes her at first, but his brows do lift a bit when she re-introduces herself. ] Steve! [ he hollers up the stairs behind him instead of walking away to get steve, invites her into the livingroom after a moment of waiting ]
STEVE, come down stairs! It's that little friend of yours- Nancy Wheeler!
[ ... okay yeah they are definitely not going to be having a conversation here, nope. maybe the ice cream shop just down the road. or- literally anywhere else ]
[ Turns out, it takes a bit more time to recover from being tortured by Russians than, say, a pounding courtesy of one Billy Hargrove or a righteous right hook brought to him by Jonathan Byers. The bruises have faded and the only mark left is by his lip, the jagged cut slowly healing up. The soreness is mostly gone — his neck no longer aches from the whiplash and his limbs aren't quite as lead-like now.
Mentally, it's an entirely different story. Sure, it's better than he had been after the first incident (the first incident, christ, he really had to number them now, huh?); the secrets were no longer weighing down on his shoulders as he walked the hallways of Hawkins High with the same smile plastered onto his face. Now though, he was expected to be a goddamn adult or something? It didn't help that his old man had chosen this exact moment to be around town for an extended period of time.
He rubs at his forehead with annoyance when he hears the sound of his father's voice bellowing from downstairs. ]
Yeah, yeah, I'm—
[ Steve stops short as he takes in that name — Nancy Wheeler. Shit. Of course Nancy wouldn't let their last conversation go. Leave it to her to storm her way over the moment she could. He glances over at his calendar as he runs a hand down his face. ]
Jesus christ. — I'm coming!
[ He sucks in a bit of air, running a hand through his hair. He looked fine. Good, even. Good enough to pass muster and probably only get a side-eye from his father on the way down. Whatever, he could deal.
As he makes his way downstairs, footsteps heavy on each step, Steve slips into his old devil-may-care attitude, a casual smile crossing over his face as he saunters into the living room. ]
Heyyy, Nance. How was Lake Michigan?
Mentally, it's an entirely different story. Sure, it's better than he had been after the first incident (the first incident, christ, he really had to number them now, huh?); the secrets were no longer weighing down on his shoulders as he walked the hallways of Hawkins High with the same smile plastered onto his face. Now though, he was expected to be a goddamn adult or something? It didn't help that his old man had chosen this exact moment to be around town for an extended period of time.
He rubs at his forehead with annoyance when he hears the sound of his father's voice bellowing from downstairs. ]
Yeah, yeah, I'm—
[ Steve stops short as he takes in that name — Nancy Wheeler. Shit. Of course Nancy wouldn't let their last conversation go. Leave it to her to storm her way over the moment she could. He glances over at his calendar as he runs a hand down his face. ]
Jesus christ. — I'm coming!
[ He sucks in a bit of air, running a hand through his hair. He looked fine. Good, even. Good enough to pass muster and probably only get a side-eye from his father on the way down. Whatever, he could deal.
As he makes his way downstairs, footsteps heavy on each step, Steve slips into his old devil-may-care attitude, a casual smile crossing over his face as he saunters into the living room. ]
Heyyy, Nance. How was Lake Michigan?
[ let it be known that nancy wheeler is very aware that she should have taken the day off from school. the whole week, technically, but her rut seems to be at its worst today, enough that it's almost impossible to concentrate. not just for her, but the people who are unfortunate enough to be near her for any extended period of time. she must be giving off pheromones or- or whatever, she's still learning about all of this. it's not super common, this- this thing she's dealing with, at least not in hawkins, so it's been nearly impossible trying to navigate it all, especially when her body brutally betrays her like this. she just wants to get through the day! but luckily she's only been distracted by her own inner bullshit, and not the scent of somebody else.
well, up until lunch.
it hits her like a gut-punch as soon as she steps outside, like when she steps into a room right after her mother spritzed some kind of flowery perfume, and she stalls in her steps for a moment to try and recover gracefully from it. she tries, anyway, but she obviously looks startled enough that people felt the need to laugh. shit. shit. since jonathan moved in the fall, she doesn't really have anyone to eat lunch with her, so she usually just ends up alone on the bleachers, but right now her feet are carrying her towards that scent. away from the bleachers. away from anything, mostly, she's realizing as her mind insists she heads towards the back of the gym, to that stupid alleyway where literally nothing good ever happens. she'd be running if she wasn't mortified by the fact that she wants to be running. what the hell-
there's usually no cars back here except for the old janitor's pick-up truck, but after a moment she recognizes the dark blue car that's still running, driver-side door open. she forces herself to stop in her tracks, hand reaching out to brace against the brick wall to her right. no, no, no- ]
No, no, no- [ the scent is stronger now, too strong, and it's entirely because her brain just connected the dots, the scent to a person, and her stomach turns even as her pupils blow wide with need. she hasn't even actually seen him yet, because maybe he's trying to resist this the same as her, but she knows he has to be here. that he must be in heat, that he must have been drawn here to the school the same way she was drawn out to this back parking lot. there's a part of her that wants to beg, a please, get away from me, but her alpha tendencies are going pretty apeshit at this point, so all she really manages is a growl, quiet and focused.
she needs to wake up, shake this off.
god she needs to fuck somebody like, three days ago. she doesn't really sound like herself when she speaks up again ]
Where are you? Stop hiding from me.
[ NO WHAT WHO GIVES A SHIT??? ( she gives a shit ) ]
well, up until lunch.
it hits her like a gut-punch as soon as she steps outside, like when she steps into a room right after her mother spritzed some kind of flowery perfume, and she stalls in her steps for a moment to try and recover gracefully from it. she tries, anyway, but she obviously looks startled enough that people felt the need to laugh. shit. shit. since jonathan moved in the fall, she doesn't really have anyone to eat lunch with her, so she usually just ends up alone on the bleachers, but right now her feet are carrying her towards that scent. away from the bleachers. away from anything, mostly, she's realizing as her mind insists she heads towards the back of the gym, to that stupid alleyway where literally nothing good ever happens. she'd be running if she wasn't mortified by the fact that she wants to be running. what the hell-
there's usually no cars back here except for the old janitor's pick-up truck, but after a moment she recognizes the dark blue car that's still running, driver-side door open. she forces herself to stop in her tracks, hand reaching out to brace against the brick wall to her right. no, no, no- ]
No, no, no- [ the scent is stronger now, too strong, and it's entirely because her brain just connected the dots, the scent to a person, and her stomach turns even as her pupils blow wide with need. she hasn't even actually seen him yet, because maybe he's trying to resist this the same as her, but she knows he has to be here. that he must be in heat, that he must have been drawn here to the school the same way she was drawn out to this back parking lot. there's a part of her that wants to beg, a please, get away from me, but her alpha tendencies are going pretty apeshit at this point, so all she really manages is a growl, quiet and focused.
she needs to wake up, shake this off.
god she needs to fuck somebody like, three days ago. she doesn't really sound like herself when she speaks up again ]
Where are you? Stop hiding from me.
[ NO WHAT WHO GIVES A SHIT??? ( she gives a shit ) ]
Edited 2019-08-13 20:30 (UTC)
[ the decision to get the fuck away from hawkins high school is made the moment billy pulls into the parking lot, barking at max to get the fuck out through gritted teeth. it's a decision far more difficult to put into practice, eventually cutting the engine and chain smoking through the rest of his cigarettes while he should be in first period, a rare enough occurrence even without the sensation he's trying to ignore at the base of his spine, urgent and hot and obnoxiously needy.
he can smell her even when he rolls the window of his camaro up, punching the door with the side of his fist, agitated. it's an impulse that's been easier to deal with since moving across the country — billy only vaguely parses that it's something to do with hormones and proximity and if there's one good thing about hawkins, it's how much more sparse this feeling is here, how infrequently it overpowers his senses to the degree it is now.
an hour passes before he can bring himself to reverse and get the fuck out of the parking lot but he doesn't get far, sweating underneath the cheap thrifted leather of his jacket even though it's far from hot out. refuge comes behind the school building but he still needs to get out of his car to stretch his legs, to distract himself from the agonizing strain of his cock against already too-tight denim, relief impossible to manage on his own when being so close to that fucking smell forces him to wait, yearning and dreading in equal measure.
then — fuck. whatever cover came from distance is destroyed the moment nancy wheeler steps outside and he slams a fist against the hood of his car, stomach going tight. he can feel her coming closer and relief, want starts eating away at how self conscious he is, how fucking humiliating this is, desire tripping every possibility of evading this into needing it to happen.
billy doesn't make it far from his car, back pressed against one side of an infrequently used storage shed, all bulky phys ed equipment inside, breathing hard through his nose when he can finally hear her, that quiet growl and the heat in her words that should be ridiculous, something easily mocked. but it makes his knees go weak and if he had the ability to laugh at himself, now would be the time. because of course it's nancy wheeler. ]
Or what? [ it's an inane question, almost entirely posturing, but it's still some pretense at control, pushing himself forward with an ease that comes close to making him shudder. there's no room for anger when he's like this, he's not even thinking clearly enough to recognize that he isn't angry in the slightest, temper subdued or stable under the weight of how badly he needs her right now.
whatever stubborn part of him that thinks he should keep trying to walk away from this is wholly suffocated when he looks at her, walking toward her without hesitation — she's finally fucking here. ]
he can smell her even when he rolls the window of his camaro up, punching the door with the side of his fist, agitated. it's an impulse that's been easier to deal with since moving across the country — billy only vaguely parses that it's something to do with hormones and proximity and if there's one good thing about hawkins, it's how much more sparse this feeling is here, how infrequently it overpowers his senses to the degree it is now.
an hour passes before he can bring himself to reverse and get the fuck out of the parking lot but he doesn't get far, sweating underneath the cheap thrifted leather of his jacket even though it's far from hot out. refuge comes behind the school building but he still needs to get out of his car to stretch his legs, to distract himself from the agonizing strain of his cock against already too-tight denim, relief impossible to manage on his own when being so close to that fucking smell forces him to wait, yearning and dreading in equal measure.
then — fuck. whatever cover came from distance is destroyed the moment nancy wheeler steps outside and he slams a fist against the hood of his car, stomach going tight. he can feel her coming closer and relief, want starts eating away at how self conscious he is, how fucking humiliating this is, desire tripping every possibility of evading this into needing it to happen.
billy doesn't make it far from his car, back pressed against one side of an infrequently used storage shed, all bulky phys ed equipment inside, breathing hard through his nose when he can finally hear her, that quiet growl and the heat in her words that should be ridiculous, something easily mocked. but it makes his knees go weak and if he had the ability to laugh at himself, now would be the time. because of course it's nancy wheeler. ]
Or what? [ it's an inane question, almost entirely posturing, but it's still some pretense at control, pushing himself forward with an ease that comes close to making him shudder. there's no room for anger when he's like this, he's not even thinking clearly enough to recognize that he isn't angry in the slightest, temper subdued or stable under the weight of how badly he needs her right now.
whatever stubborn part of him that thinks he should keep trying to walk away from this is wholly suffocated when he looks at her, walking toward her without hesitation — she's finally fucking here. ]
[ how did they even get there? what happened an hour ago-- or even five minutes ago? he has no clue, honestly, and he's not even paying particular attention to the background, to the room. he just knows that his mouth is on hers, and his body is pinning hers against the wall.
who she is isn't even really that important. his hands press against her hips, fingers pulling firmly against her shirt, to start to lift it up. the instinct to do so is automatic, propelled by instinct, and the feeling that they'd had some sort of conversation leading up to this.
he wasn't about to pause and ask her who she was, or make sure he'd introduced himself.
instead, he presses his advantage, tongue running along her lips. he feels like he's done this a million times before, but he can't quite place how or why. just that he knows what to do in this case-- with her. A pleasant sense of deja vu, when his motor is already running on hot.]
who she is isn't even really that important. his hands press against her hips, fingers pulling firmly against her shirt, to start to lift it up. the instinct to do so is automatic, propelled by instinct, and the feeling that they'd had some sort of conversation leading up to this.
he wasn't about to pause and ask her who she was, or make sure he'd introduced himself.
instead, he presses his advantage, tongue running along her lips. he feels like he's done this a million times before, but he can't quite place how or why. just that he knows what to do in this case-- with her. A pleasant sense of deja vu, when his motor is already running on hot.]
[ nancy's lifting her arms so he can tug her shirt off in one smooth motion, and she doesn't even question it. she briefly recognizes that she doesn't recognize the man in front of her, and that the way he's kissing her isn't familiar, but it doesn't seem to matter. the only thing that really matters is that he's keeping her on her toes, making it hard to keep up, and there's a certain thrill to that. she shifts against the wall, like maybe she plans on trying to change their positions, but his grip on her is hard enough to make her whine, in a totally undignified way that makes it obvious she likes it.
the bed is close, and she really doesn't know how she knows that, but she presses against him like she wants to peel herself from the wall and push him that way, even if she's not sure how she'll manage it. or if he'll let her ( isn't that thrilling? ). ]
Come on.
[ her impatience makes her laugh, squirming again in his grip because she wants to move away from the wall but she also wants to stay pinned to the wall and it's hard to make up her mind so she'll just whine and let him decide instead ]
the bed is close, and she really doesn't know how she knows that, but she presses against him like she wants to peel herself from the wall and push him that way, even if she's not sure how she'll manage it. or if he'll let her ( isn't that thrilling? ). ]
Come on.
[ her impatience makes her laugh, squirming again in his grip because she wants to move away from the wall but she also wants to stay pinned to the wall and it's hard to make up her mind so she'll just whine and let him decide instead ]
[ If anyone had told her she'd be a: friends with Steve "The Hair" Harrington, or b: studying over at Nancy Wheeler's house, she would never have believed them. And it's not even that she needs to study. Neither of them do, really... but it was a nice excuse to hang out with her (since when did she even want an excuse for that?)...
But there was a certain pull Robin felt to her- one that wasn't fair at all. She hates how distracted she gets by the small things: the faces Nancy makes when she's concentrating, the way her hair moves, her eyes, her eyelashes...
The pout of her lip.
She taps her pencil on her paper a few times, pretending she's thinking harder than she really is, before she clears her throat and announces, with some exasperation: ]
Do we really need to study?
But there was a certain pull Robin felt to her- one that wasn't fair at all. She hates how distracted she gets by the small things: the faces Nancy makes when she's concentrating, the way her hair moves, her eyes, her eyelashes...
The pout of her lip.
She taps her pencil on her paper a few times, pretending she's thinking harder than she really is, before she clears her throat and announces, with some exasperation: ]
Do we really need to study?
[ nancy's not exactly sure when this became her new normal either. a lot's changed since jonathan moved away, since they... broke up? yeah, they broke up. grew apart. it had only been a few months since jonathan left, so was there really even time for them to grow apart? whatever. the details don't matter. what matters is that nancy's getting used to life now - having mike in high school with her, being a senior. trying to figure out if she can even afford to think about going to college out of state when it seems like hawkins is being threatened by a new monster at least once a year. y'know. teenager things.
but another change, one that's not so bad or even bad at all, is that she's found a study buddy and friend(? are they friends? ) in robin.
it's actually kind of refreshing, having someone around that has similar priorities as her. mostly. they agree that school and their GPAs are important, at least.
so when robin asks if they really need to study, she just gives her a look ]
We might not need to, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't. Mr. C loves to throw curveball questions on his tests, you know that.
but another change, one that's not so bad or even bad at all, is that she's found a study buddy and friend(? are they friends? ) in robin.
it's actually kind of refreshing, having someone around that has similar priorities as her. mostly. they agree that school and their GPAs are important, at least.
so when robin asks if they really need to study, she just gives her a look ]
We might not need to, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't. Mr. C loves to throw curveball questions on his tests, you know that.
[ from here ]
Of course. Among other things, but their hair choices were at the forefront of it all.
Have you ever criticized someone, and they react so badly that you just can't help yourself from adding to it? I almost felt bad, but he was being such an asshole about it I couldn't stop.
Of course. Among other things, but their hair choices were at the forefront of it all.
Have you ever criticized someone, and they react so badly that you just can't help yourself from adding to it? I almost felt bad, but he was being such an asshole about it I couldn't stop.
oh, sweetie. of course. only without the almost feeling bad part
some people just bring verbal evisceration on themselves. if anything it's merciful to let them have it, there's a fraction of a chance they'll learn from it
i'm just sad to have missed it. i bet it was a hell of a show
some people just bring verbal evisceration on themselves. if anything it's merciful to let them have it, there's a fraction of a chance they'll learn from it
i'm just sad to have missed it. i bet it was a hell of a show
[ from here ]
I know. You always go a little wild when I say your name a certain way, too.
If only I didn't get so sensitive after, I feel like you would just keep going...
But I've also thought about what it would be like to let you keep going, too.
And I guess maybe I'm a sap too, because I like figuring out what it takes to get your voice to crack around the edges like it does when you really need to come.
I know. You always go a little wild when I say your name a certain way, too.
If only I didn't get so sensitive after, I feel like you would just keep going...
But I've also thought about what it would be like to let you keep going, too.
And I guess maybe I'm a sap too, because I like figuring out what it takes to get your voice to crack around the edges like it does when you really need to come.
it's definitely the way you say it. it always makes me feel all tingly, like it's a special way you only talk around me.
damn i'm getting sappy again.
oh, i would keep going. i'd keep my mouth right where it is until you were a shaking, panting mess.
i'd get to know your clit better than you know it, just give me a chance.
ohhh
so that's why you slow it down when i'm right at the edge and make me beg you to make me come?
or am i just imagining that? i get a little hazy when you're down there licking me to the point where i'm seeing stars.
damn i'm getting sappy again.
oh, i would keep going. i'd keep my mouth right where it is until you were a shaking, panting mess.
i'd get to know your clit better than you know it, just give me a chance.
ohhh
so that's why you slow it down when i'm right at the edge and make me beg you to make me come?
or am i just imagining that? i get a little hazy when you're down there licking me to the point where i'm seeing stars.
[ from here ]
Well good, because I happen to really like the way things are in this version of reality. Although alternate universe me would totally appreciate your support.
Wait.
You think those sounds I make for you
are adorable?
[ this just in! nancy wheeler is still fully capable of feeling wildly insecure over literally nothing, within seconds! ]
I secretly really liked it when you told me that you think my laugh is adorable, but my
my sex noises?? And the way I move when you're..?
That's actually so embarrassing??
Please tell me that's not the only word that comes to mind...
Well good, because I happen to really like the way things are in this version of reality. Although alternate universe me would totally appreciate your support.
Wait.
You think those sounds I make for you
are adorable?
[ this just in! nancy wheeler is still fully capable of feeling wildly insecure over literally nothing, within seconds! ]
I secretly really liked it when you told me that you think my laugh is adorable, but my
my sex noises?? And the way I move when you're..?
That's actually so embarrassing??
Please tell me that's not the only word that comes to mind...
Edited 2022-06-18 07:32 (UTC)
i happen to really like the way things are in this version of reality also
just fyi
( turns out that Peter is also capable of getting instantly nervous about something without warning, so, it's fine. totally fair really! did he just ruin sexting??? oh no. oh no!!! )
it's not the only word that comes to mind! definitely!
actually
okay actually it is the only word that comes to mind
you... mewl. like a cat? it's adorable. that's the first word that comes to mind. adorable, and my mind melts because after you make it i know you feel good and that drives me crazy i love it when i know you feel good
then i don't remember what words are anymore so adorable really is it
in the heat of the moment anyway
at a distance i can provide hot, sexy, endearing, uhhhhhhhh
brain breaking
please tell me one of these words is helping because adorable is good it's really really good
just fyi
( turns out that Peter is also capable of getting instantly nervous about something without warning, so, it's fine. totally fair really! did he just ruin sexting??? oh no. oh no!!! )
it's not the only word that comes to mind! definitely!
actually
okay actually it is the only word that comes to mind
you... mewl. like a cat? it's adorable. that's the first word that comes to mind. adorable, and my mind melts because after you make it i know you feel good and that drives me crazy i love it when i know you feel good
then i don't remember what words are anymore so adorable really is it
in the heat of the moment anyway
at a distance i can provide hot, sexy, endearing, uhhhhhhhh
brain breaking
please tell me one of these words is helping because adorable is good it's really really good
Uh, according to me, obviously.
You just need to get the hell out of Hawkins for a day or two.
I hear Chicago's great this time of year.
You just need to get the hell out of Hawkins for a day or two.
I hear Chicago's great this time of year.
Having a good time at one party doesn't make me a "party girl", Hargrove.
And that really wasn't my crowd, either. They just
happened to be throwing a party when I happened to be looking for one.
[ "having a good time", "showing up to a party hosted by a classmate that absolutely did not know her name ( which was fair, because she didn't know the hostess' name either ), but didn't seem to care that she was there, or that she spent most of her short time there helping herself to whatever booze was readily available"... same thing. she's also already decided she'll absolutely be downplaying everything about said party, including what she may or may not have done while she was there. yep. ]
And that really wasn't my crowd, either. They just
happened to be throwing a party when I happened to be looking for one.
[ "having a good time", "showing up to a party hosted by a classmate that absolutely did not know her name ( which was fair, because she didn't know the hostess' name either ), but didn't seem to care that she was there, or that she spent most of her short time there helping herself to whatever booze was readily available"... same thing. she's also already decided she'll absolutely be downplaying everything about said party, including what she may or may not have done while she was there. yep. ]
[ from here ]
What?? It's not like I plan on going into details!
[ she actually hadn't meant to text robin about it to begin with because she knows it's totally weird to talk about something like this with someone who's friends with steve - like, best friends even, shit - but obviously some divine power didn't want nancy to text candice about it ( not that she even talks to candice all that much outside of school newspaper meetings, but. like. maybe she doesn't actually have that many friends that she feels like she can talk to about this stuff. or any real friends at all anymore. and maybe hasn't since barb disappeared. maybe that's it. but she's not going to think about that, yikes. ) which is why the text ended up in robin's inbox. ]
As you know, Steve's been going through a weird patch with dating, and Jonathan and I broke up last week ( which you might not know, actually, now that I think about it. it's kind of a long story, but I can tell you about it later ), and none of it feels great?
So we went for a drive, that's all. Like friends do.
And then we were just two friends making out
and then maybe doing a little more than making out.
So. Yeah. Just like a back rub.
[ this just in: steve and nancy are actually idiots. you're friends with two idiots, buckley. ]
What?? It's not like I plan on going into details!
[ she actually hadn't meant to text robin about it to begin with because she knows it's totally weird to talk about something like this with someone who's friends with steve - like, best friends even, shit - but obviously some divine power didn't want nancy to text candice about it ( not that she even talks to candice all that much outside of school newspaper meetings, but. like. maybe she doesn't actually have that many friends that she feels like she can talk to about this stuff. or any real friends at all anymore. and maybe hasn't since barb disappeared. maybe that's it. but she's not going to think about that, yikes. ) which is why the text ended up in robin's inbox. ]
As you know, Steve's been going through a weird patch with dating, and Jonathan and I broke up last week ( which you might not know, actually, now that I think about it. it's kind of a long story, but I can tell you about it later ), and none of it feels great?
So we went for a drive, that's all. Like friends do.
And then we were just two friends making out
and then maybe doing a little more than making out.
So. Yeah. Just like a back rub.
[ this just in: steve and nancy are actually idiots. you're friends with two idiots, buckley. ]
thank god for that
okay 1) I knew you had a ramble in you given the right scenario. I knew it
2) I did not know that you broke up, but good
3) - okay. um. how committed are you to thisdelusion idea that all of that was "just friends" activity?
okay 1) I knew you had a ramble in you given the right scenario. I knew it
2) I did not know that you broke up, but good
3) - okay. um. how committed are you to this
[ from here! ]
[ the mention of his dad and college in the same sentence kicks up the kind of concern that would have her asking "are you okay?" if it had happened recently, but it's more likely that it happened at least a year ago, so it's easy to curb that impulse. but then he's repeating back to her that he's not mad, and she's just taking a second to read over everything he's texted her a couple more times, trying to figure out to explain-
well, how to explain.
and then there's that last one. shit. shit. ]
I don't regret it.
[ gets typed out and sent at a speed that would be embarrassing if it was in pretty much any other context. but no, that's actually the last thing she wants him to think, so she's going to just- pull the emergency break on that train of thought right away. not even letting it leave the station, no sir. but now she's accidentally doing that thing that she's been guilty of since the very first day she gave him her number, and that's typing out a few sentences, reading them back, then deleting them all just to start over again. she did it enough times that "not the dot dot dots again, nance! it's practically torture!" became a thing. it appears she hasn't kicked the habit. but-! how she words things, phrases things... that's important to her. she's never been good at verbally expressing her feelings, good or bad, until they're practically bursting out of her- it's something she still struggles with way too much. but getting the chance to write them out? that she can do. writing she can control.
and maybe it's not even all that serious. but it could be? maybe it should be. she doesn't know.
okay, enough dot dot dot torture. ]
I didn't apologize because I thought you were going to be mad at me.
I apologized because there were things in that total mess of drunken rambling that I know I should have said two years ago, and other things that I've thought about saying since then, but didn't.
And it's not like it's something I've been torturing myself over or anything, but sometimes that impulse to reach out would creep up, yeah, but I knew it would have been crazy selfish to do it.
But apparently that isn't something I'm too concerned about when I'm drunk.
And it's just so ridiculous, because the thing that made me pick up my phone and actually text you in the first place? I was fully convinced that if "Waiting for a Girl Like You" was really your favorite song, that meant you must have somehow completely forgot what it was, and why it means so much to me. [ that... sure was present tense. she should fix that. ... except there's nothing to fix. shit. yeah. maybe it really is still an important song to her. for a lot of reasons, not just because that's the song that was playing when they- yeah. no. it's because he sang it to her, okay, said it was hers. and the thought maybe stung enough that it might have totally been one of the things she confessed to her mom that night - how could steve just forget? ] But then it turned out you didn't forget. Which was, apparently, enough to completely undo any effort I've made towards letting go of all that other stuff.
[ ... solid work. she's okay with all of that, reading it back. ... no, wait. ]
So I'm sorry for doing that, for digging all of that up.
I know it was a lot of compliments, nice things, but I've always felt like...
Because I missed my chance to say all of those things when it would have actually maybe counted for something, saying them now would just be really selfish. Too little, too late.
And it was. It does feel like that.
[ too late forrrr what, nance? you loser. ]
Wow, that is all
so, SO dramatic.
This hangover is really kicking my ass.
Maybe we should just forget about it. Can we still do that?
[ the mention of his dad and college in the same sentence kicks up the kind of concern that would have her asking "are you okay?" if it had happened recently, but it's more likely that it happened at least a year ago, so it's easy to curb that impulse. but then he's repeating back to her that he's not mad, and she's just taking a second to read over everything he's texted her a couple more times, trying to figure out to explain-
well, how to explain.
and then there's that last one. shit. shit. ]
I don't regret it.
[ gets typed out and sent at a speed that would be embarrassing if it was in pretty much any other context. but no, that's actually the last thing she wants him to think, so she's going to just- pull the emergency break on that train of thought right away. not even letting it leave the station, no sir. but now she's accidentally doing that thing that she's been guilty of since the very first day she gave him her number, and that's typing out a few sentences, reading them back, then deleting them all just to start over again. she did it enough times that "not the dot dot dots again, nance! it's practically torture!" became a thing. it appears she hasn't kicked the habit. but-! how she words things, phrases things... that's important to her. she's never been good at verbally expressing her feelings, good or bad, until they're practically bursting out of her- it's something she still struggles with way too much. but getting the chance to write them out? that she can do. writing she can control.
and maybe it's not even all that serious. but it could be? maybe it should be. she doesn't know.
okay, enough dot dot dot torture. ]
I didn't apologize because I thought you were going to be mad at me.
I apologized because there were things in that total mess of drunken rambling that I know I should have said two years ago, and other things that I've thought about saying since then, but didn't.
And it's not like it's something I've been torturing myself over or anything, but sometimes that impulse to reach out would creep up, yeah, but I knew it would have been crazy selfish to do it.
But apparently that isn't something I'm too concerned about when I'm drunk.
And it's just so ridiculous, because the thing that made me pick up my phone and actually text you in the first place? I was fully convinced that if "Waiting for a Girl Like You" was really your favorite song, that meant you must have somehow completely forgot what it was, and why it means so much to me. [ that... sure was present tense. she should fix that. ... except there's nothing to fix. shit. yeah. maybe it really is still an important song to her. for a lot of reasons, not just because that's the song that was playing when they- yeah. no. it's because he sang it to her, okay, said it was hers. and the thought maybe stung enough that it might have totally been one of the things she confessed to her mom that night - how could steve just forget? ] But then it turned out you didn't forget. Which was, apparently, enough to completely undo any effort I've made towards letting go of all that other stuff.
[ ... solid work. she's okay with all of that, reading it back. ... no, wait. ]
So I'm sorry for doing that, for digging all of that up.
I know it was a lot of compliments, nice things, but I've always felt like...
Because I missed my chance to say all of those things when it would have actually maybe counted for something, saying them now would just be really selfish. Too little, too late.
And it was. It does feel like that.
[ too late forrrr what, nance? you loser. ]
Wow, that is all
so, SO dramatic.
This hangover is really kicking my ass.
Maybe we should just forget about it. Can we still do that?
Edited 2022-07-10 04:33 (UTC)
( he wants to ask how he could possibly forget, the song that was hers — and god he's hopeless but even when the height of their romance was driving her home and a few kisses under the bleachers, it was already theirs. because holy shit, has she heard the lyrics? he had been waiting, for a girl like her. and he was such a dope, he wanted that song to be the soundtrack to their relationship. he wanted their love to survive, being with her did make him feel more alive, and he sure as shit did come on too strong sometimes. he wanted that to be their wedding song. Nancy he was honestly this close to doodling your names together in hearts, for gods sake. he was never going to forget that song. forget that it was hers, then theirs. that it was the song playing when they ... it feels stupid, to think of it as making love. he was too young and stupid to really know what love even was.
but the first time they had sex is not exactly a moment of low emotional impact for him either, all right? Steve knows Nancy looks at that night and thinks about Barb, about not being there for her, about being the reason she's dead. they were the reasons she was dead. but Steve still looks back at that night because it was their first time together and he can't not be glad it was their first time. is that fucked up? should he hate that memory, too, because he was so distracted with finally being with the girl of his dreams he didn't notice a girl getting dragged to a mirror dimension and murdered in his pool?
he can't. he just can't hate it. maybe one day he'll have a new favorite song. a new relationship and a new song with someone else. but until then that song and being with Nancy is the best thing that's ever happened to him, he's never gonna forget. ever.
but Jesus Christ, can he not say that! so. he won't. Steve is more open than Nancy by a mile but even he can sense things it's not okay for him to say. because she's with someone else now, or because he knows the barely healed wound that Barb's memory is to Nancy. he can't tell her that's what hurt most, in the drunken spiral at the Halloween party. because things in the moment being bullshit wouldn't have been so bad. because it was hard but they could have tried. fixed things! but goddamn she went back in time and that was bullshit too. she regretted and hated something that meant so much, he thought to both of them and in the moment he's sure it had even if he passed out after and yeah okay it wasn't perfect.
but it wasn't bullshit either.
he can't say that. it's too much. and frankly it's hard to know what to say to the rest of it, either. is it too late, to say that to him? no. yes? maybe? god, he doesn't fucking know. it's a lot harder with Jonathan ghosting off somewhere in the middle distance because it gives him hope and he can't have hope for his chances with a girl that is in love with someone else.
Steve doesn't ( ... ). sometimes there's a gap, between reading something, and saying it. but when he decides it's always decisive. delivered one after another. )
I couldn't ever forget what that song is. That's why it's my favorite. You get that, right? That's why.
( if saying all the nice things she liked about him when they were dating? bam. there's Steve's moment or selfishness. )
How about we don't forget, and just... let it go. Older and wiser, right? Well I'm older anyway.
I'm joking. That was a joke.
( a painfully sad joke, but a joke!!! )
I'm glad to know now. It's better than never knowing. But I don't want it to get in the way of who we are now, either. I really missed you, Nance. Maybe we can stop using the unspoken unknown as a reason to stay away from each other.
And get that grilled cheese. If not today, sometime. Okay?
but the first time they had sex is not exactly a moment of low emotional impact for him either, all right? Steve knows Nancy looks at that night and thinks about Barb, about not being there for her, about being the reason she's dead. they were the reasons she was dead. but Steve still looks back at that night because it was their first time together and he can't not be glad it was their first time. is that fucked up? should he hate that memory, too, because he was so distracted with finally being with the girl of his dreams he didn't notice a girl getting dragged to a mirror dimension and murdered in his pool?
he can't. he just can't hate it. maybe one day he'll have a new favorite song. a new relationship and a new song with someone else. but until then that song and being with Nancy is the best thing that's ever happened to him, he's never gonna forget. ever.
but Jesus Christ, can he not say that! so. he won't. Steve is more open than Nancy by a mile but even he can sense things it's not okay for him to say. because she's with someone else now, or because he knows the barely healed wound that Barb's memory is to Nancy. he can't tell her that's what hurt most, in the drunken spiral at the Halloween party. because things in the moment being bullshit wouldn't have been so bad. because it was hard but they could have tried. fixed things! but goddamn she went back in time and that was bullshit too. she regretted and hated something that meant so much, he thought to both of them and in the moment he's sure it had even if he passed out after and yeah okay it wasn't perfect.
but it wasn't bullshit either.
he can't say that. it's too much. and frankly it's hard to know what to say to the rest of it, either. is it too late, to say that to him? no. yes? maybe? god, he doesn't fucking know. it's a lot harder with Jonathan ghosting off somewhere in the middle distance because it gives him hope and he can't have hope for his chances with a girl that is in love with someone else.
Steve doesn't ( ... ). sometimes there's a gap, between reading something, and saying it. but when he decides it's always decisive. delivered one after another. )
I couldn't ever forget what that song is. That's why it's my favorite. You get that, right? That's why.
( if saying all the nice things she liked about him when they were dating? bam. there's Steve's moment or selfishness. )
How about we don't forget, and just... let it go. Older and wiser, right? Well I'm older anyway.
I'm joking. That was a joke.
( a painfully sad joke, but a joke!!! )
I'm glad to know now. It's better than never knowing. But I don't want it to get in the way of who we are now, either. I really missed you, Nance. Maybe we can stop using the unspoken unknown as a reason to stay away from each other.
And get that grilled cheese. If not today, sometime. Okay?
Edited 2022-07-10 05:23 (UTC)
[ from here ]
[ to be honest, nancy's not totally sure why she asked for that 30 minute cushion. she spends the first few minutes not moving from the spot where she's stretched out on her bed, eyes on her ceiling as she tries to figure out if she just shot herself in the foot, coming on so strong in her texts just now. she's certainly a little braver when she's texting someone than she is when she's face to face with them, but not by that much. she's pretty sure. and it was a deliberate choice to text him about honesty and orgasms instead of something less, y'know, that. she's pretty sure some part of her was hoping for a reason to invite him over from the getgo. plus, she thinks- no, she knows they'll have fun, no matter what tone she can or can't keep up for it.
so eventually she's up on her feet, arms stretching over her head as she makes her way to the bathroom, because brushing her teeth seems like a pretty solid idea, at the very least. and after looking herself over in the mirror, she's even fine with the outfit she put on before to run some errands earlier in the day. high-waisted denim shorts and a fitted tee were nothing to scoff at. and the messy ponytail she's managed to gather her hair up into was just practical, for the summer heat. as if she's feeling any of that in her very well air-conditioned house. whatever.
the doorbell rings and she's there to meet him not too long after, having wandered her way downstairs and into the kitchen, basically just to chug some water and convince herself that she shouldn't let herself be disappointed if he decided not to meet her, for some reason. ( and of course the cold water makes her wince because the it makes her teeth feel too cold, shit, too sensitive, not fun!! but whatever. maybe she's a tiny bit nervous, too. ) anyway, she opens the door and opens her mouth to say something shortly after, something like- "hi" maybe? as one does when when greeting someone. but the stifling august heat makes itself known way too quickly, and yeah, nope, pleasantries can wait. she grabs his hand so she can tug him along with her as she takes those few steps to get back inside, and uses her free hand to swing the door shut behind him.
which brings him- right there. despite spending the last 45 minutes thinking about it, she's just taking a second to process the fact that eddie munson is in her house. specifically because she invited him over to hook up. or whatever. but it only lasts a split second before she's smiling, probably too bright for someone that was trying to act mysterious not so long ago, but it doesn't matter because that smile comes with a hand reaching out to grab the front of his shirt or the collar of his vest or whatever it comes into contact with first so she can drag him in close again. only this time it's so she can press her lips to his. ..okay, that's a very sweet way to phrase how she drag him in and lifts on her toes so she can kiss him, hard pressed and bossy ( and enthusiastic, for the record ). she makes it last long enough that her nerves have managed to settle down and fuck off, and has her tilting her face up towards his even once she settles flat on her feet again. ]
... Hi.
[ to be honest, nancy's not totally sure why she asked for that 30 minute cushion. she spends the first few minutes not moving from the spot where she's stretched out on her bed, eyes on her ceiling as she tries to figure out if she just shot herself in the foot, coming on so strong in her texts just now. she's certainly a little braver when she's texting someone than she is when she's face to face with them, but not by that much. she's pretty sure. and it was a deliberate choice to text him about honesty and orgasms instead of something less, y'know, that. she's pretty sure some part of her was hoping for a reason to invite him over from the getgo. plus, she thinks- no, she knows they'll have fun, no matter what tone she can or can't keep up for it.
so eventually she's up on her feet, arms stretching over her head as she makes her way to the bathroom, because brushing her teeth seems like a pretty solid idea, at the very least. and after looking herself over in the mirror, she's even fine with the outfit she put on before to run some errands earlier in the day. high-waisted denim shorts and a fitted tee were nothing to scoff at. and the messy ponytail she's managed to gather her hair up into was just practical, for the summer heat. as if she's feeling any of that in her very well air-conditioned house. whatever.
the doorbell rings and she's there to meet him not too long after, having wandered her way downstairs and into the kitchen, basically just to chug some water and convince herself that she shouldn't let herself be disappointed if he decided not to meet her, for some reason. ( and of course the cold water makes her wince because the it makes her teeth feel too cold, shit, too sensitive, not fun!! but whatever. maybe she's a tiny bit nervous, too. ) anyway, she opens the door and opens her mouth to say something shortly after, something like- "hi" maybe? as one does when when greeting someone. but the stifling august heat makes itself known way too quickly, and yeah, nope, pleasantries can wait. she grabs his hand so she can tug him along with her as she takes those few steps to get back inside, and uses her free hand to swing the door shut behind him.
which brings him- right there. despite spending the last 45 minutes thinking about it, she's just taking a second to process the fact that eddie munson is in her house. specifically because she invited him over to hook up. or whatever. but it only lasts a split second before she's smiling, probably too bright for someone that was trying to act mysterious not so long ago, but it doesn't matter because that smile comes with a hand reaching out to grab the front of his shirt or the collar of his vest or whatever it comes into contact with first so she can drag him in close again. only this time it's so she can press her lips to his. ..okay, that's a very sweet way to phrase how she drag him in and lifts on her toes so she can kiss him, hard pressed and bossy ( and enthusiastic, for the record ). she makes it last long enough that her nerves have managed to settle down and fuck off, and has her tilting her face up towards his even once she settles flat on her feet again. ]
... Hi.
[ It turns out that Eddie very much needs that extra time. Most of it is spent in front of the mirror of his tiny bathroom, staring his reflection and begging himself not to fuck this up. Yes, he had hooked up with Nancy once, at a time that feels ages ago. It wouldn't have been the first time that he was some girl's drunken choice, even if it had felt somehow different. There was no reason for that, besides the ridiculous crush he had been harboring for years now.
Nancy Wheeler was so impossibly out of his league it wasn't funny, but that hadn't stopped him. She had her shit together, knew what she wanted, and god damn if that wasn't the hottest thing in the universe. Eddie only drags himself away from the mirror after he's brushed his teeth and dabbed on some cheap cologne, hoping that it won't be too overwhelming. He's trying so hard to not be himself, as if Nancy is expecting someone other than Eddie to be pulling up in front of her house.
And then he's there, fingers trembling as he shuts off the van. Ok, he can do this. He can totally do this. It's just meant to be a hook up, after all, nothing he should be worrying about. Eddie feels like he blacks out in the time it takes to get from his van to her front door, and when she opens it-- holy fuck. He thinks he might die right there, the way she looks so effortlessly casual and impossibly hot.
The kiss shouldn't surprise him, but it manages to set his chest on fire, and it takes everything he has to muster up the ability to kiss her back. He loves it, the way she's always in charge, knows just what she wants and isn't afraid to get it. When she pulls back, Eddie is left pink cheeked and panting, a stupid grin plastered across his face. ]
Hey. [ He lets his hands reach out, finding a comfortable place on her hips. ] That's not how you greet all your guests, is it?
Nancy Wheeler was so impossibly out of his league it wasn't funny, but that hadn't stopped him. She had her shit together, knew what she wanted, and god damn if that wasn't the hottest thing in the universe. Eddie only drags himself away from the mirror after he's brushed his teeth and dabbed on some cheap cologne, hoping that it won't be too overwhelming. He's trying so hard to not be himself, as if Nancy is expecting someone other than Eddie to be pulling up in front of her house.
And then he's there, fingers trembling as he shuts off the van. Ok, he can do this. He can totally do this. It's just meant to be a hook up, after all, nothing he should be worrying about. Eddie feels like he blacks out in the time it takes to get from his van to her front door, and when she opens it-- holy fuck. He thinks he might die right there, the way she looks so effortlessly casual and impossibly hot.
The kiss shouldn't surprise him, but it manages to set his chest on fire, and it takes everything he has to muster up the ability to kiss her back. He loves it, the way she's always in charge, knows just what she wants and isn't afraid to get it. When she pulls back, Eddie is left pink cheeked and panting, a stupid grin plastered across his face. ]
Hey. [ He lets his hands reach out, finding a comfortable place on her hips. ] That's not how you greet all your guests, is it?
Edited 2022-09-12 00:29 (UTC)
[ from here ]
[ okay. so. for the record, nancy's only had two drinks. actually, she's technically still working on the second one? but the first one burned in a way that suggested it was a little stronger than it probably should have been - about a shot and a half of rum mixed with coca-cola, in a glass that's a bit too small to keep it proportional - while the second is evened out enough that the bubbles almost overpower the burn. which she thinks is great!
really though, she's not on a mission to get stupid drunk tonight or anything, it's more about taking advantage of the fact that her parents called to let her know that they ( and holly ) were going to be staying at karen's sister's house in michigan for another week. and considering nancy hasn't had some sort of meltdown, despite the fact that hawkins is still kind of on the brink of becoming a full nightmare hellscape, and that they still have no idea when henry might finally be strong enough to carry out the rest of his plan? she figures she's earned at least ONE night of teenage rebellion.
although maybe texting steve and telling him he should come over to share some of her dad's expensive booze with her, and not texting anybody else with the same offer, was a Choice. she knows that. she's not under the impression that this is the most level-headed decision she's made in a while. but to be fair, it's an improvement compared to how she's been handling things before today. because maybe she hasn't exactly hermit-ed herself away or anything, but she kiiiind of hasn't made any real effort to reach out to anybody ( beyond a few text messages ) in a decent handful of weeks either.
because it's also been a decent handful of weeks since argyle spilled the beans about emerson, and the "slow-motion breakup", and completely blew up jonathan's spot about just how long he had been actively lying to her about it. so like. she hasn't been feeing the most social. she hasn't been feeling much of anything, really. because it turns out that being on the receiving end of a slow-motion breakup is just the slow-motion heartbreak that she's been trying to make sense of for months, and months.
... but she's working on it! this is her working on it.
this is her... sitting at the bottom of the staircase that faces her front door, with her mostly-finished drink held firmly in both hands, looking a tiny bit zoned out as she stares at the little mail flap in the door and waits for steve harrington to show up ( hopefully with some chocolate chip cookies!! ) so they can hang out - alone - and get drunk. she's just about to lean down and steal one more small sip from her straw when he knocks, and the only reason why it takes her a moment longer than it should to answer the door is because she's apparently just buzzed enough that kind of needed to take a moment to just sit and process how happy and relieved(?) she feels, now that he's here. steve's here. isn't that great? and then she's up on her feet and reaching to open the door ]
Hi.
[ it's actually been a really long time since she's greeted someone with a "hi" that sounded... pleased. which is really messed up, but, that's kind of what happens when the last few weeks have been spent visiting max in the hospital room, or stopping by to see how el's been dealing with things, or volunteering at the school because people are still- no! nope, she can't herself think about those things right now, nope.
luckily! cookies.] I'm pretty sure you're the best, actually. [ yes, this is her answering his text right now, to his face. she's reaching for his free hand before she thinks better of it, tugging him inside and then leaning to use her foot to nudge the door shut behind him ]
[ okay. so. for the record, nancy's only had two drinks. actually, she's technically still working on the second one? but the first one burned in a way that suggested it was a little stronger than it probably should have been - about a shot and a half of rum mixed with coca-cola, in a glass that's a bit too small to keep it proportional - while the second is evened out enough that the bubbles almost overpower the burn. which she thinks is great!
really though, she's not on a mission to get stupid drunk tonight or anything, it's more about taking advantage of the fact that her parents called to let her know that they ( and holly ) were going to be staying at karen's sister's house in michigan for another week. and considering nancy hasn't had some sort of meltdown, despite the fact that hawkins is still kind of on the brink of becoming a full nightmare hellscape, and that they still have no idea when henry might finally be strong enough to carry out the rest of his plan? she figures she's earned at least ONE night of teenage rebellion.
although maybe texting steve and telling him he should come over to share some of her dad's expensive booze with her, and not texting anybody else with the same offer, was a Choice. she knows that. she's not under the impression that this is the most level-headed decision she's made in a while. but to be fair, it's an improvement compared to how she's been handling things before today. because maybe she hasn't exactly hermit-ed herself away or anything, but she kiiiind of hasn't made any real effort to reach out to anybody ( beyond a few text messages ) in a decent handful of weeks either.
because it's also been a decent handful of weeks since argyle spilled the beans about emerson, and the "slow-motion breakup", and completely blew up jonathan's spot about just how long he had been actively lying to her about it. so like. she hasn't been feeing the most social. she hasn't been feeling much of anything, really. because it turns out that being on the receiving end of a slow-motion breakup is just the slow-motion heartbreak that she's been trying to make sense of for months, and months.
... but she's working on it! this is her working on it.
this is her... sitting at the bottom of the staircase that faces her front door, with her mostly-finished drink held firmly in both hands, looking a tiny bit zoned out as she stares at the little mail flap in the door and waits for steve harrington to show up ( hopefully with some chocolate chip cookies!! ) so they can hang out - alone - and get drunk. she's just about to lean down and steal one more small sip from her straw when he knocks, and the only reason why it takes her a moment longer than it should to answer the door is because she's apparently just buzzed enough that kind of needed to take a moment to just sit and process how happy and relieved(?) she feels, now that he's here. steve's here. isn't that great? and then she's up on her feet and reaching to open the door ]
Hi.
[ it's actually been a really long time since she's greeted someone with a "hi" that sounded... pleased. which is really messed up, but, that's kind of what happens when the last few weeks have been spent visiting max in the hospital room, or stopping by to see how el's been dealing with things, or volunteering at the school because people are still- no! nope, she can't herself think about those things right now, nope.
luckily! cookies.] I'm pretty sure you're the best, actually. [ yes, this is her answering his text right now, to his face. she's reaching for his free hand before she thinks better of it, tugging him inside and then leaning to use her foot to nudge the door shut behind him ]
Edited 2022-10-02 04:58 (UTC)
[ there is a tiny part of steve that is trying to convince himself that this could potentially be a disaster. because this is nancy, and he has always had a soft spot for her, from the moment they met (really, truly, properly met). when steve was trying desperately to prove that he was more than the rumor mill made him out to be (even if some of those rumors were true).
but he isn't about to leave her hanging, and regardless of where they currently stand, he is more than happy to just be there for her so she doesn't have to be alone. he doesn't know if this is about jonathan or if this is about those visions that vecna forced her to see, or if it's about barb, or the horrors that the mind flayer wreaked upon the small town of hawkins, indiana. it doesn't really matter what brought this on, because steve would have dropped everything to come to her aid regardless.
and as it turns out, steve has his own reasons for wanting to get drunk. because while nancy was dealing with slow-motion breakup, steve was coming to terms with robin spending more and more time with vickie. robin, who has recently decided she wants to go away to college and leave steve behind. and with dustin spending more and more time with eddie munson lately, seeing as how the latter miraculously survived. and how could steve try to come between any of these things?
the real kicker was finding out his parents were selling the house. sure, the market is shit, but why would they want to live in hawkins after everything? he hasn't told anyone this yet, has no fucking clue what he's going to do,
so yeah. getting drunk with nancy wheeler seems very much in order right now. ]
Hi yourself. [ but he can't help the small smile that creeps across his face just at seeing her. the smile that grows wider every second. ] Oh, I don't know about that. But I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to argue with the supplier of the alcohol. [ his face displays the shock he feels at her hand taking his, and he has to fight that familiar feeling bubbling up inside of him, forcing himself to remember the relief that nancy and jonathan shared at finding out they both made it out alive. even if he is very much aware that it was steve who she invited, and jonathan does not appear to be anywhere in the vicinity. ]
Lead the way? [ this house holds so many memories for steve that he can feel his breath get pulled right out of his throat as they start to resurface. dinners with her parents. the christmas where her mother presented him with the ugliest sweater and he had been more than happy to put it on then and there. sneaking into her bedroom to help her study. he tries to push the word bullshit out of sight and out of mind and focus on the here and now.
and maybe speeds up his pace just a little bit, because the quicker he catches up to nancy, the better. ]
but he isn't about to leave her hanging, and regardless of where they currently stand, he is more than happy to just be there for her so she doesn't have to be alone. he doesn't know if this is about jonathan or if this is about those visions that vecna forced her to see, or if it's about barb, or the horrors that the mind flayer wreaked upon the small town of hawkins, indiana. it doesn't really matter what brought this on, because steve would have dropped everything to come to her aid regardless.
and as it turns out, steve has his own reasons for wanting to get drunk. because while nancy was dealing with slow-motion breakup, steve was coming to terms with robin spending more and more time with vickie. robin, who has recently decided she wants to go away to college and leave steve behind. and with dustin spending more and more time with eddie munson lately, seeing as how the latter miraculously survived. and how could steve try to come between any of these things?
the real kicker was finding out his parents were selling the house. sure, the market is shit, but why would they want to live in hawkins after everything? he hasn't told anyone this yet, has no fucking clue what he's going to do,
so yeah. getting drunk with nancy wheeler seems very much in order right now. ]
Hi yourself. [ but he can't help the small smile that creeps across his face just at seeing her. the smile that grows wider every second. ] Oh, I don't know about that. But I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to argue with the supplier of the alcohol. [ his face displays the shock he feels at her hand taking his, and he has to fight that familiar feeling bubbling up inside of him, forcing himself to remember the relief that nancy and jonathan shared at finding out they both made it out alive. even if he is very much aware that it was steve who she invited, and jonathan does not appear to be anywhere in the vicinity. ]
Lead the way? [ this house holds so many memories for steve that he can feel his breath get pulled right out of his throat as they start to resurface. dinners with her parents. the christmas where her mother presented him with the ugliest sweater and he had been more than happy to put it on then and there. sneaking into her bedroom to help her study. he tries to push the word bullshit out of sight and out of mind and focus on the here and now.
and maybe speeds up his pace just a little bit, because the quicker he catches up to nancy, the better. ]
[ from here ]
Maybe, just a little bit. But you're not wrong.
Last night might have been the first time I've gotten properly drunk since that party, now that I'm thinking about it. And I didn't drink nearly as much this time around. I never want to drink that much again.
[ because she still can't remember anything that happened that night, after a certain point. and that "certain point" still isn't even all that certain! so yeah, no, no thank you. even if it was a very specific, fucked up set of circumstances that lead to her feeling that emotionally fried and completely trashed, it honestly still scares the hell out of her that there is an entire block of time, of a few hours at least, that are completely missing from her memory. it would be one thing if she at least had some vague idea of what exactly was going through her mind when she said all of those things, because maybe she would have been able to handle the talk she had with steve the next day a little better, but there isn't even a single blip of a memory of it. he's the only one that has to carry around that memory, and that might actually be the worst part, since-
okay, she needs to stop. you'd think after vecna managed to get into her head because she couldn't let go of her guilt for barb, she would learn how to stop throwing herself into these emotional pitfalls of the past, but. nope. ]
I might still be a little out of it, because I so didn't plan on telling you about this, especially not in a text.
Not that I felt like I needed to hide it from you or anything! I mean, it was just a dumb party, it's really not that serious, I just don't want you to think I'm
I don't know. [ "actively looking for casual hookups" is the end of that sentence, but shit if this isn't the most awkward topic for them. ]
It's embarrassing, that's all. [ that works ]
Maybe, just a little bit. But you're not wrong.
Last night might have been the first time I've gotten properly drunk since that party, now that I'm thinking about it. And I didn't drink nearly as much this time around. I never want to drink that much again.
[ because she still can't remember anything that happened that night, after a certain point. and that "certain point" still isn't even all that certain! so yeah, no, no thank you. even if it was a very specific, fucked up set of circumstances that lead to her feeling that emotionally fried and completely trashed, it honestly still scares the hell out of her that there is an entire block of time, of a few hours at least, that are completely missing from her memory. it would be one thing if she at least had some vague idea of what exactly was going through her mind when she said all of those things, because maybe she would have been able to handle the talk she had with steve the next day a little better, but there isn't even a single blip of a memory of it. he's the only one that has to carry around that memory, and that might actually be the worst part, since-
okay, she needs to stop. you'd think after vecna managed to get into her head because she couldn't let go of her guilt for barb, she would learn how to stop throwing herself into these emotional pitfalls of the past, but. nope. ]
I might still be a little out of it, because I so didn't plan on telling you about this, especially not in a text.
Not that I felt like I needed to hide it from you or anything! I mean, it was just a dumb party, it's really not that serious, I just don't want you to think I'm
I don't know. [ "actively looking for casual hookups" is the end of that sentence, but shit if this isn't the most awkward topic for them. ]
It's embarrassing, that's all. [ that works ]
You alright?
[It's an sincere question because Steve can't really call anytime Nancy would go out to a party in order to get totally trashed and make poor life choices. It's none of his business what she decides to do and the choices she makes.
She's not his girlfriend.
That doesn't mean he can't show a bit of concern because obviously something is going on if she didn't mean to send him the message in the first place. It's cool.
Totally fine. ]
You don't have to explain anything, Nance.
[It's an sincere question because Steve can't really call anytime Nancy would go out to a party in order to get totally trashed and make poor life choices. It's none of his business what she decides to do and the choices she makes.
She's not his girlfriend.
That doesn't mean he can't show a bit of concern because obviously something is going on if she didn't mean to send him the message in the first place. It's cool.
Totally fine. ]
You don't have to explain anything, Nance.
[ from here ]
oh.
Thanks c:
[ ... wait ]
but maybe not never??
Definitely not never. [ cut to a montage of every time steve's saved her dang life over the last 3 years ]
because yes I like protecting people and I like being able to protect myself but sometimes it's nice to
feel
protected.
you know?
so that's why i need a certified lifeguard.
[ okay, cool. stop texting, nance. right there. that's a good a place as any to quit typing words until after he's typed words back. maybe just put the ph- ]
I was about to say "let's drop the lifeguard thing" but then I totally realized that you being a lifeguard is actually a little bit poetic, Steve Harrington.
more than a little bit.
oh.
Thanks c:
[ ... wait ]
but maybe not never??
Definitely not never. [ cut to a montage of every time steve's saved her dang life over the last 3 years ]
because yes I like protecting people and I like being able to protect myself but sometimes it's nice to
feel
protected.
you know?
so that's why i need a certified lifeguard.
[ okay, cool. stop texting, nance. right there. that's a good a place as any to quit typing words until after he's typed words back. maybe just put the ph- ]
I was about to say "let's drop the lifeguard thing" but then I totally realized that you being a lifeguard is actually a little bit poetic, Steve Harrington.
more than a little bit.
( he's thinking of another line. trying to play it cool. he's already botched his own advice—never let them know you care—because he spilled his whole heart to nancy right before their fight with vecna. so she already knows he cares. she must. but he can still try to be a little suave...
then she says that him being a lifeguard is poetic and uses his full name, like she used to when they were two kids in love, and there's no playing it cool after that. )
yeah well
i'll let you in on a trade secret
being a lifeguard isn't that hard when you have people you'd do anything to keep safe
then it becomes automatic
you know
like breathing
( and even then, they've had some losses along the way, haven't they? sometimes he thinks he's not a very good lifeguard after all. but he keeps that to himself, because he doesn't want to drag the mood down. )
then she says that him being a lifeguard is poetic and uses his full name, like she used to when they were two kids in love, and there's no playing it cool after that. )
yeah well
i'll let you in on a trade secret
being a lifeguard isn't that hard when you have people you'd do anything to keep safe
then it becomes automatic
you know
like breathing
( and even then, they've had some losses along the way, haven't they? sometimes he thinks he's not a very good lifeguard after all. but he keeps that to himself, because he doesn't want to drag the mood down. )
oops not waiting an hour and a half before hitting post would've been good
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
keenely
- 2022-10-18 16:19 (UTC) - Expand[ from here]
Oh, I definitely like that idea.
Because your logic absolutely checks out, of course.
I feel like there's probably an upper limit to it? Like if you're even more sensitive than usual, or if eventually orgasms could make your cramps come back, since there's the risk of muscle strain after certain point...
But I'll be careful! Like I said.
And you'll just have to make sure to keep talking to me through it all.
( oh nooo... )
Oh, I definitely like that idea.
Because your logic absolutely checks out, of course.
I feel like there's probably an upper limit to it? Like if you're even more sensitive than usual, or if eventually orgasms could make your cramps come back, since there's the risk of muscle strain after certain point...
But I'll be careful! Like I said.
And you'll just have to make sure to keep talking to me through it all.
( oh nooo... )
Hmm you might be onto something there, we should definitely approach with caution then.
Never thought I'd see the day when my senseless rambling would actually come in handy.
Never thought I'd see the day when my senseless rambling would actually come in handy.
[ from here ]
He pulled that classic Steve move of trying so hard to act subtle, that there's nothing subtle about it?
We were talking about Dustin and then he very suddenly brought up the weather, and how it's getting colder. But how sometimes it's the "in between" kind of cold, so it's too cold for just a sweatshirt, but too warm for his winter coat.
And then he brought up different options for layering appropriately for the weather.
Which then lead to "like that old track jacket you used to borrow all the time. that one was PERFECT for layering up. it was the one I wore during JV swim team. remember that jacket?"
He pulled that classic Steve move of trying so hard to act subtle, that there's nothing subtle about it?
We were talking about Dustin and then he very suddenly brought up the weather, and how it's getting colder. But how sometimes it's the "in between" kind of cold, so it's too cold for just a sweatshirt, but too warm for his winter coat.
And then he brought up different options for layering appropriately for the weather.
Which then lead to "like that old track jacket you used to borrow all the time. that one was PERFECT for layering up. it was the one I wore during JV swim team. remember that jacket?"
Edited 2022-12-13 02:05 (UTC)
he really is a very predictable dingus [ dingus (affectionate) ]
I could tell him if he doesn't let it go I'll break into your house and burn the jacket if you want
(a lie obvs)
that would probably work. well. 50/50 shot?
OR
or YOU could tell him he sounds like an old man when he talks that much about the weather and the temperature
he'd be horrified
I could tell him if he doesn't let it go I'll break into your house and burn the jacket if you want
(a lie obvs)
that would probably work. well. 50/50 shot?
OR
or YOU could tell him he sounds like an old man when he talks that much about the weather and the temperature
he'd be horrified
( Nancy Wheeler just doubting him all over the place!! Steve can't say no to me! Steve couldn't possibly have sexy payback for slutty candy cane consumption!!! girlie, you got a big storm comin'. a horny storm. thank god this goddamn slow curse is about to end. )
You're acting like that wouldn't do it for me but unzipping you out of a Christmas onesie is not as unsexy as it should be right now.
( mostly because she'd be laughing and a little pink because she'd be embarrassed and FRANKLY a onesie is just one long zipper and then she's mostly naked that's some pretty easy access actually?? okay no horny brain is just taking over he should not be into onesies )
Nance. 200 people live in Amboy, tops. I'm not sure they'd even have a room to rent.
And you saying shit like I can't wait 45 minutes without climbing all over you is not really helping on the sit here and make booty call plans front, actually. At all.
...What if we go to the quarry before we hit the road? Like we used to.
( there's only so much they can get up to in his back seat, especially when they don't have the cover of darkness. but surely enough to last to somewhere that isn't "Circus Central", Peru, IN. )
You're acting like that wouldn't do it for me but unzipping you out of a Christmas onesie is not as unsexy as it should be right now.
( mostly because she'd be laughing and a little pink because she'd be embarrassed and FRANKLY a onesie is just one long zipper and then she's mostly naked that's some pretty easy access actually?? okay no horny brain is just taking over he should not be into onesies )
Nance. 200 people live in Amboy, tops. I'm not sure they'd even have a room to rent.
And you saying shit like I can't wait 45 minutes without climbing all over you is not really helping on the sit here and make booty call plans front, actually. At all.
...What if we go to the quarry before we hit the road? Like we used to.
( there's only so much they can get up to in his back seat, especially when they don't have the cover of darkness. but surely enough to last to somewhere that isn't "Circus Central", Peru, IN. )
You're trying to tell me that you think me sitting on your passenger side wearing a onesie would be just as distracting as if I wore tiny shorts? Really?
And I'm just being honest! Realistic, even. Practical.
Which is why I'm saying now that while parking at the quarry first sounds good in theory? The reality is that my impulse control is truly at its lowest right now, and I would really rather not live in a world where Officer Callahan knows what my boobs look like just because someone tipped him off about a steamed-up car being parked there.
And I'm just being honest! Realistic, even. Practical.
Which is why I'm saying now that while parking at the quarry first sounds good in theory? The reality is that my impulse control is truly at its lowest right now, and I would really rather not live in a world where Officer Callahan knows what my boobs look like just because someone tipped him off about a steamed-up car being parked there.
A changing room would be a dick move, but it's impossible to work at a mall for a summer without wanting to get away with it at least once.
And I've always wanted to know how far you could go under a table without somebody noticing.
( wondered, and never tried. maybe that's pushing it, but hey, that's why it's a fantasy, right? )
I liked that too. Though it sort of felt like hell. The best sort of hell, don't get me wrong. To want more of you and have to let you take your time instead.
Sometimes it felt like you did that because you wanted me to stop you. Because if it got to be too much and I rolled us over you'd always make this delighted noise like you were just waiting for me to do it.
Overwhelmingly bitable. That's a really creature of the night thing to say, Nancy Wheeler. Vampire shit.
( not that he's complaining, honestly he's pretty glad his neck is "overwhelmingly bitable"! just, you know, not when there's innocent mailboxes around. )
And I've always wanted to know how far you could go under a table without somebody noticing.
( wondered, and never tried. maybe that's pushing it, but hey, that's why it's a fantasy, right? )
I liked that too. Though it sort of felt like hell. The best sort of hell, don't get me wrong. To want more of you and have to let you take your time instead.
Sometimes it felt like you did that because you wanted me to stop you. Because if it got to be too much and I rolled us over you'd always make this delighted noise like you were just waiting for me to do it.
Overwhelmingly bitable. That's a really creature of the night thing to say, Nancy Wheeler. Vampire shit.
( not that he's complaining, honestly he's pretty glad his neck is "overwhelmingly bitable"! just, you know, not when there's innocent mailboxes around. )
Under a table, somewhere in public? Like.. a diner?
WWait, oh my gosh. You were totally thinking about those booths they had at Scoops, weren't you? [ a short-ish pause ] Do you remember if Scoops Ahoy is a chain..?
That might have been the goal sometimes. Not always! But sometimes it was fun testing your patience, yeah. You would always
it was like
there was just something different about it that I really liked.
Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Me? A vampire? Hahaha! Could you imagine? That would be SO crazy!
Luckily I'm absolutely NOT a vampire.
I mean, they're definitely not even real, hahaha!
WWait, oh my gosh. You were totally thinking about those booths they had at Scoops, weren't you? [ a short-ish pause ] Do you remember if Scoops Ahoy is a chain..?
That might have been the goal sometimes. Not always! But sometimes it was fun testing your patience, yeah. You would always
it was like
there was just something different about it that I really liked.
Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Me? A vampire? Hahaha! Could you imagine? That would be SO crazy!
Luckily I'm absolutely NOT a vampire.
I mean, they're definitely not even real, hahaha!
[ from here ]
What? I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was required viewing!
What if... Next time I stop by the store, you give me a full recap of Fast Times, and I rent A Room with a View again instead? Do I still get the friends discount..?
Stop, did he really? That's
wow
definitely not funny at all, and totally unforgivable.
I wouldn't blame you at all for telling him off.
To be fair, she is incredibly smart. I don't blame him for wanting to brag about her sometimes.
Although you're subjected to it much more often that I am, so maybe it stops being cute after a while.
What? I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was required viewing!
What if... Next time I stop by the store, you give me a full recap of Fast Times, and I rent A Room with a View again instead? Do I still get the friends discount..?
Stop, did he really? That's
wow
definitely not funny at all, and totally unforgivable.
I wouldn't blame you at all for telling him off.
To be fair, she is incredibly smart. I don't blame him for wanting to brag about her sometimes.
Although you're subjected to it much more often that I am, so maybe it stops being cute after a while.
you can get the friends discount on whatever movies you want
the real question is, can be friends if you refuse to watch fast times?
( kidding, of course. kind of. mostly. )
guy thinks just because he's from california he knows more about style
but he clearly doesn't own a mirror
( maybe steve's being a little too hard on argyle. at the same time, he's never seen so many loud patterns and colors on one person. )
yeah, i guess she's kind of a genius
and she has helped us save the world
twice
from utah
the real question is, can be friends if you refuse to watch fast times?
( kidding, of course. kind of. mostly. )
guy thinks just because he's from california he knows more about style
but he clearly doesn't own a mirror
( maybe steve's being a little too hard on argyle. at the same time, he's never seen so many loud patterns and colors on one person. )
yeah, i guess she's kind of a genius
and she has helped us save the world
twice
from utah
[ from here ]
[ she almost makes a joke at her own expense, asks him if he still believed that even after she started dating jonathan byers, but- the breakup is still just fresh enough that she can't bring herself to do it. ]
If anything, that particular vice was his.
I just
helped him kick the habit.
That's okay, it's just a working title. Something to grab the attention of potential producers and sponsors, you know?
Half the battle of a successful pitch is starting with a good headline.
Or a good show title, in this case.
Oh, is that all?
God, you and Mike really are cut from the same cloth.
[ she almost makes a joke at her own expense, asks him if he still believed that even after she started dating jonathan byers, but- the breakup is still just fresh enough that she can't bring herself to do it. ]
If anything, that particular vice was his.
I just
helped him kick the habit.
That's okay, it's just a working title. Something to grab the attention of potential producers and sponsors, you know?
Half the battle of a successful pitch is starting with a good headline.
Or a good show title, in this case.
Oh, is that all?
God, you and Mike really are cut from the same cloth.
[ it's actually kinda silly, the paper-thin transparency of it all, because nancy wasn't exactly trying to be subtle about her ..mood, even as early as that afternoon. it started the minute she stopped by family video to visit steve and to pick out what movie they'd be watching that night. she might not have dragged him to the stock room and sent him back to the front desk all disheveled ( which she definitely has done before. just ask robin, she makes a big stink about it every time ), but she was being clingy and touchy in a way that slowed their usual pace up and down each row of tapes. the cover of footloose got a free show when she pinched either side of his vest to tug him down so she could kiss him for a while. the karate kid got a repeat performance, as well as sixteen candles and splash.
she doesn't remember actually agreeing that they should watch teen wolf, but it's fine. she's not going to be paying much attention to the movie anyway, and she's pretty determined to make sure he won't be either, so they can just watch it tomorrow.
he picks her up after work so they can grab dinner at the diner before heading back to his - she steals his fries, sips her mint milkshake too fast, kisses him silly with the insistence of it being the only cure for brain freeze. by the time they're walking back out to his car, she's pretty positive he has her number, that he must know she's basically already cancelled movie night in her mind, and it's usually on the ride home that he makes it clear if he's on the same page or if he's going to torture her a little bit ( obviously not letting her jump him immediately is torture, yes ), and judging by the smalltalk about twizzlers and popcorn right up until they were pulling up the driveway, it was clear he wanted to torture her.
but it's fine! she's just not going to make it easy for him.
... and, as it turns out, he's not going to make it easy for her either.
she goes right for the cheap shots, the easy kills - starting with insisting she wanted to get into her pajamas early, and casually bringing up that she had to borrow one of his shirts because she accidentally only brought a small pair of sleep shorts with her. and bullying him into the corner of the couch and stretching his legs out across the cushions so she could park her butt between his thighs and tug his arms around her as she leaned back. which meant they were sharing their first few twizzlers, because no he wasn't allowed to use his hands to hold anything but her, so she just held each one up and over her shoulder a bit so he could steal bites. ... sharing snacks does, in fact, count as a cheap shot, because she knows he's got a soft spot for that kind of not-so-little couple thing. it helps that she definitely does, too.
but anyway.
they're forty minutes into the movie and the half-eaten bag of twizzlers has been abandoned on the coffee table, and nancy has very little idea of what michael j. fox is talking about because she's been busy making three ( 3 ) solid attempts to distract him by now. but to no avail.
which is really fucking rude of him, actually.
but pretty great, too. she loves a challenge.
she also loves that messing with his hands is still the perfect way to- well, get handsy, without him immediately calling her out for it. and why would he? sexy motives or not, she likes massaging his hands, likes the easy intimacy of it. he might tease her for how small her hands are sometimes, but not when she's rubbing slow circles along his palms, or the lower joints of each finger, or the heel of his hand. she likes futzing around with his fingers without any practical purpose, too, lacing them up between hers or trying to line them up palm to palm, as if they haven't already firmly established that it'll never be possible. but yeah, steve's hands. they're just- really great. and so are his arms, and his shoulders, and his chest, and nancy so
does not want to just be curled up on the couch watching the way his forearm flexes whenever she skims her thumb over the inside of his wrist, while surfin' usa cues up on the tv. ..why the hell-? no, who cares, nancy does not care about the plot of teen wolf.
which is why she's finally slowly sitting up to shift around a bit, tucking her shoulder back and turning her hips so she's sitting sideways against him instead of with her back to his chest, and then doing the perfectly reasonable thing of slipping her hand under his shirt and bracing herself by holding onto his side as she tries to get comfortable again. or more specifically, tries to get comfortable while tipping her face up to nose under his jaw, pressing up to kiss him there. ]
Hey, babe?
[ pow. cheap shot. ]
she doesn't remember actually agreeing that they should watch teen wolf, but it's fine. she's not going to be paying much attention to the movie anyway, and she's pretty determined to make sure he won't be either, so they can just watch it tomorrow.
he picks her up after work so they can grab dinner at the diner before heading back to his - she steals his fries, sips her mint milkshake too fast, kisses him silly with the insistence of it being the only cure for brain freeze. by the time they're walking back out to his car, she's pretty positive he has her number, that he must know she's basically already cancelled movie night in her mind, and it's usually on the ride home that he makes it clear if he's on the same page or if he's going to torture her a little bit ( obviously not letting her jump him immediately is torture, yes ), and judging by the smalltalk about twizzlers and popcorn right up until they were pulling up the driveway, it was clear he wanted to torture her.
but it's fine! she's just not going to make it easy for him.
... and, as it turns out, he's not going to make it easy for her either.
she goes right for the cheap shots, the easy kills - starting with insisting she wanted to get into her pajamas early, and casually bringing up that she had to borrow one of his shirts because she accidentally only brought a small pair of sleep shorts with her. and bullying him into the corner of the couch and stretching his legs out across the cushions so she could park her butt between his thighs and tug his arms around her as she leaned back. which meant they were sharing their first few twizzlers, because no he wasn't allowed to use his hands to hold anything but her, so she just held each one up and over her shoulder a bit so he could steal bites. ... sharing snacks does, in fact, count as a cheap shot, because she knows he's got a soft spot for that kind of not-so-little couple thing. it helps that she definitely does, too.
but anyway.
they're forty minutes into the movie and the half-eaten bag of twizzlers has been abandoned on the coffee table, and nancy has very little idea of what michael j. fox is talking about because she's been busy making three ( 3 ) solid attempts to distract him by now. but to no avail.
which is really fucking rude of him, actually.
but pretty great, too. she loves a challenge.
she also loves that messing with his hands is still the perfect way to- well, get handsy, without him immediately calling her out for it. and why would he? sexy motives or not, she likes massaging his hands, likes the easy intimacy of it. he might tease her for how small her hands are sometimes, but not when she's rubbing slow circles along his palms, or the lower joints of each finger, or the heel of his hand. she likes futzing around with his fingers without any practical purpose, too, lacing them up between hers or trying to line them up palm to palm, as if they haven't already firmly established that it'll never be possible. but yeah, steve's hands. they're just- really great. and so are his arms, and his shoulders, and his chest, and nancy so
does not want to just be curled up on the couch watching the way his forearm flexes whenever she skims her thumb over the inside of his wrist, while surfin' usa cues up on the tv. ..why the hell-? no, who cares, nancy does not care about the plot of teen wolf.
which is why she's finally slowly sitting up to shift around a bit, tucking her shoulder back and turning her hips so she's sitting sideways against him instead of with her back to his chest, and then doing the perfectly reasonable thing of slipping her hand under his shirt and bracing herself by holding onto his side as she tries to get comfortable again. or more specifically, tries to get comfortable while tipping her face up to nose under his jaw, pressing up to kiss him there. ]
Hey, babe?
[ pow. cheap shot. ]
( yeah, so, Steve had Nancy's number right away. he had her about when she walked into Family Video and she'd spent five straight minutes leaned against the counter, watching him try and convince some picky sixth grader girls what movie they should get (Indiana Jones over Star Wars, no contest, but they'd needed convincing). and while he was focused on the customers, obviously, he could definitely tell there had been some staring. Nancy either forgot how to be subtle about it, or has long since stopped caring to be. not to mention not one, not two, but three loud appeals from Robin to pay attention. Good God, Wheeler, it's the same ass it always is.
and it's not that he's trying to torture her. torture her is such a strong, strong word. tease her. draw it out long enough that she's this close to losing her mind, maybe. and that's not torture. it's just delayed gratification. she'll get the gratification eventually! there's something to be said about working for it making it more satisfying. and Steve does know how Nancy works. that making her wait can drive her the right kind of crazy. crawling all over him and dragging his hands up her sweater rolling against him in all the right ways with sweet desperate little breaths and I need you, now. is it such a crime to try and help her get there when she always comes harder after? no. really, he's doing her a favor. looking out for her, and her orgasms!
he is not unaware of Nancy pressed against his chest, or the floral chemical hit of her hairspray. or the way her fingertip darted the line of his lip when she was feeding him Twizzlers. or the intention behind suggesting they share share one the Lady and the Tramp way. which was more ridiculous than romantic, in Steve's opinion, because they had a mouthful of candy by the time they met in the middle. he's aware of her intentions to delay or at the very least disregard the main function of movie night. usually Steve is game on for that, too. honestly, he got into Teen Wolf mostly on accident. it's just that the movie is familiar in a fuzzy, deja-vu, hard to pin down sort of way. has he seen this before?
Michael J. Fox is familiar. which, of course he is, he's Michael J. Fox. and yet Alex P. Keaton on his own right isn't quite why the movie sticks around in his head. he's remembering something else, waiting for Scott to want to ... make out with his mom? it's blurry, faded and stretched out weird and wrong, from Russian truth serum. and Steve is strangely transfixed, trying to figure it out — remembering and not remembering, even as Nancy shifts around in his lap (which earns a slight grunt, because that's his lap, and his body is still plenty attuned to Nancy even if the rest of him is trying to focus on the movie). as much as he likes the way her touch wanders along his arm and his hand and his palm and his fingers, he likes it in a way he can get lost in. not really notice, just enjoy, even as he squints at the screen and tries to remember which one Bif is. there's a Biff, right? )
Hmm, ( Steve says, and his answer sounds as distracted as the rest of him. that said, as Nancy's mouth presses under his chin, it does jut up to give her more space to kiss him more. he's trying to keep tabs of Michael J. Fox as he gets hairier, it's true. but he can handle a few wandering kisses in addition to that, surely. )
and it's not that he's trying to torture her. torture her is such a strong, strong word. tease her. draw it out long enough that she's this close to losing her mind, maybe. and that's not torture. it's just delayed gratification. she'll get the gratification eventually! there's something to be said about working for it making it more satisfying. and Steve does know how Nancy works. that making her wait can drive her the right kind of crazy. crawling all over him and dragging his hands up her sweater rolling against him in all the right ways with sweet desperate little breaths and I need you, now. is it such a crime to try and help her get there when she always comes harder after? no. really, he's doing her a favor. looking out for her, and her orgasms!
he is not unaware of Nancy pressed against his chest, or the floral chemical hit of her hairspray. or the way her fingertip darted the line of his lip when she was feeding him Twizzlers. or the intention behind suggesting they share share one the Lady and the Tramp way. which was more ridiculous than romantic, in Steve's opinion, because they had a mouthful of candy by the time they met in the middle. he's aware of her intentions to delay or at the very least disregard the main function of movie night. usually Steve is game on for that, too. honestly, he got into Teen Wolf mostly on accident. it's just that the movie is familiar in a fuzzy, deja-vu, hard to pin down sort of way. has he seen this before?
Michael J. Fox is familiar. which, of course he is, he's Michael J. Fox. and yet Alex P. Keaton on his own right isn't quite why the movie sticks around in his head. he's remembering something else, waiting for Scott to want to ... make out with his mom? it's blurry, faded and stretched out weird and wrong, from Russian truth serum. and Steve is strangely transfixed, trying to figure it out — remembering and not remembering, even as Nancy shifts around in his lap (which earns a slight grunt, because that's his lap, and his body is still plenty attuned to Nancy even if the rest of him is trying to focus on the movie). as much as he likes the way her touch wanders along his arm and his hand and his palm and his fingers, he likes it in a way he can get lost in. not really notice, just enjoy, even as he squints at the screen and tries to remember which one Bif is. there's a Biff, right? )
Hmm, ( Steve says, and his answer sounds as distracted as the rest of him. that said, as Nancy's mouth presses under his chin, it does jut up to give her more space to kiss him more. he's trying to keep tabs of Michael J. Fox as he gets hairier, it's true. but he can handle a few wandering kisses in addition to that, surely. )
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