I'm not sure why she would be so surprised by that? Unless it was just because she didn't actually have a reason to think about it until then. She was probably just being dramatic.
Hey, those shorts were not stu Okay, maybe they were a little stupid. But you always look good in blue, and that includes when it comes in the form of a sailor uniform.
Oh, trust me, I know you do. I'm not sure my mom ever believed the "I accidentally burned myself with my curling iron" excuse, but I've used it so many times now that I think even my dad is starting to catch on.
I'm not going to tit punch you. I would punch you in the shoulder, maybe.
[ or pout in that way that makes him panic a little. either one. probably the second one. ]
She was definitely being dramatic. ( Nancy, you've met Robin. right??? obviously she was being at least a little dramatic, it's who she is. )But c'mon. Sweet little Nancy Wheeler with the big blue eyes and slouchy sweaters is a hickey monster? I'd be surprised too, if I didn't already know.
That was the worst I've ever looked, thank you very much, but I can probably manage to wear blue that isn't nautically themed if you like it that much. ( because he's vain and will take the You look good in blue even if he abjectly refuses the idea he looked good as a little sailor boy. )
That bad? I could tone it down a little. Maybe. ( he's frankly a hickey monster in his own right, these days. it's just that getting to leave hickeys on Nancy again is a particularly delightful thrill. and maybe there's the tiniest bit of caveman brain in there that wants to mark her as absolutely claimed, no questions. is that so wrong? ...maybe, but it's clanging around in there somewhere. between how much he likes the noise Nancy makes at the pull of his teeth and how good hints of him look painted on her pale skin. )
She already knows I'm not "sweet little Nancy Wheeler". But maybe it's not so obvious that I'm not so sweet in that way too, I guess. Hopefully she's not too weirded out by it.
At the risk of recklessly feeding your ego, I'm not sure there's a color I don't like you in? But blue might be my favorite. Or green. No, blue, definitely blue.
You don't have to tone it down. I just need to remember whenever you leave a particularly noticeable one on my neck, so I don't accidentally waltz down to breakfast in the morning looking mildly debauched. I like when you leave those marks behind, though. In the moment, and after the fact. The ones on my thighs are always still so crazy sensitive the next morning, in a good way.
(weirded out is probably not the word, Nancy. but Steve can't really explain his bestie might be growing a huge gay crush on you, so, ) She knows you're a badass that can beat down faceless bats and blow a psychic asshole to kingdom come. That's not the same as knowing you get bitey when you're horny. It's different.
( damn steve, don't pull any punches there or anything!! )
How's it reckless? I do look good in green. And blue. I'm glad there's not one color that really ruins it for you, that's nice. You look good in every color I've seen you in, too. But you look good in nothing at all, so that doesn't surprise me.
Really? ( interesting thought. he can work with that thought. ) How good are we talking? Touch yourself remembering my mouth between your legs and my hands spreading you open sort of good, maybe?
[ shut up, she's not blushing the same way she always does when steve gets all matter-of-fact about sexy things, you're blushing the same wa- ]
It's reckless because I firmly believe that egos have limits! I really hope they have limits, at least. And what if yours is already at maximum capacity, and I give you the compliment that pushes it over the edge? The consequences could be seriously dire. Catastrophic!
[ ..... oh, wait. that's definitely another matter-of-fact sexy text, and she's over here trying to be goofy about it. and then he's sending more!! shit! ]
Yes, really. And yes, sometimes it's exactly like that. It's impossible to replicate what it feels like, or how it makes me feel, when you hold my thighs open wide, or down against my torso, or however you want me, but the hickeys They're basically little bruises, you know? So when they're somewhere on my body that's already sensitive, I don't even have to press into them all that much to get a particularly vivid reminder.
And what's the worst that could happen if somebody knows you like them? ( that's... not really what Nancy meant, but also, he feels like he has a point here. it can't be that bad, to tell somebody what you like about them. )
Good. I like knowing you think about me when you're fingering yourself. I think about you, even when there's no hickeys to help me along. They help, though, I get what you mean. I can remember you there better than anywhere else.
Steve Harrington, are you seriously fishing right now? Because it feels like you're fishing. Which is a little ridiculous, because I know for a fact, that you know for a fact, that I like you. Really, really like you. A lot. So much. The most.
[ more than like, but damnit, she won't text it before she says it. even if she's starting to hit a point where sometimes she wants to type it a hundred times and send it to him so bad she has to ditch her phone in favor of her diary. and there've been too many close calls at this point. ]
Of course I think about you. Actually recently I've been realizing that I'm not sure I ever really stopped thinking about you, in that way. And it's obviously more than that now, shush, that's not my point. I just know I never forgot what your hands feel like. On my hips, and my thighs, and in my hair, and on my breasts, and my ass, and do you even know how frustrating it is that it doesn't matter how many different angles I tried, or positions, or if I used two fingers or three, or what it's never felt as good as two of your fingers filling me up?
I'm just saying if you tell me I look good in green I'm not gonna get a big head about it. I already know that I look good in green. It just means I know that you like it, and I like knowing what you like. Especially when I'm the thing you like.
( which feels a little needy and overly exposed to admit, oops, awkward. it's just... look, he really does like reminders Nancy likes him. okay? things are good, they're more! !! than good!!! but things went from good to bad to bullshit, so fast he still feels stupid that he didn't see the signs before it was too late.
so it's nice. when she says it. when he doesn't have to guess, or wonder. that's all. )
I thought about you, too. Kind of made me feel like an asshole. ( and probably did not help in the letting go and moving on front, so he tried to stop. picked dates that were about as far from Nancy Wheeler as he could get, so no wires could get crossed. and it's not like it was a bad time. sex is good, getting off is even better. it just was never the same. didn't have that spark, that feeling, that something. electricity. and his head was great at reminding him of that whenever it was over. )
I think I kind of like that your fingers don't feel like mine. Because then no matter what you're going to think about me. Wish I was inside of you instead. Curling up inside you as you make those noises you make, grip your sheets like you gotta hold on for dear life. You'll get off but it won't be as good because I'm not there. I like being the only one that can really make you feel like that.
[ it's okay, because it turns out sometimes nancy needs that. not just when he's so honest it's a little intimidating, but reminders that this new steve wasn't interested in trying to play any parts, which in the past, always made it so easy for her to avoid the specific kind of vulnerability that comes with being honest about her feelings. she can be honest, brutally honest at times, with her options, but her emotions? not... so much. she's working on it. she's trying. and steve reminding her that she doesn't have to be shy about her big, fat, stupid, goofy crush on him helps. even if she does tease him about it. just a little. ]
Blue, green, red. That one awful orange-y color that I genuinely can't stand when it's on the hanger, but then you put it on and it's like... Okay, sure! I guess that's my favorite color today!
And I like you in nothing at all, too. Especially after I've left some of those marks we were just talking about.
It's funny.. I don't think I really ever felt like an asshole for it. Which probably does make me an asshole, huh? But it wasn't intentional, at first. Not for a long time, actually. I would just be thinking about things that made me feel good, and imagination would just... go there. Your hands, your mouth, your dick. Seems so obvious now, but it didn't at the time.
[ yeah, no, she was definitely an asshole. because it's true- she didn't try to think of steve when she touched herself, but she definitely didn't end up thinking about her boyfriend as much as she probably should have. and maybe she knew that she didn't just dream up this guy that knew how to touch her, but didn't feel like jon. but at the time it just felt- dirty. in a fun way.
so, yeah. asshole. ]
What?? But what if I need you, but you're at work? Or out, busy being a good friend? You're basically saying you're okay with me having bad orgasms sometimes. That's so mean. :c
Awful orange-y color, huh? Even if you don't mind it on, I'm thinking you should help me ditch that one, babe.
( he's not offended, not really. if anything this is the funniest compliment he has ever been given. he appreciates that Nancy thinks he can pull off something that is awful and orange-y. that said if he looks good in green why wouldn't he just wear green? that's easy. easy fix! )
You're not an asshole. ( it is truly difficult for Steve to conceptualize Nancy being an asshole, even if maybe the title is deserved, here. maybe they were both assholes, head and heart with someone else and not even brave enough to admit it to who they were with, or even to themselves. or maybe there's a better word for two people split apart by circumstance, with fringes of what they were left behind unresolved and unhappy. if there is, Steve doesn't know it. )
You were just... lonely. I get that. I don't know, maybe it's... no, it is fucked up. But I'm glad I made you feel better. Even if it wasn't really me.
( and he is very determined she'll never get so lonely she'll have to imagine somebody else when they're together!! they are never making it to seventeen months without touching each other, Steve would rather die first. )
Not bad orgasms. Just... not as good. Kinda like when you ask for white toast and get wheat. Yeah, it's sort of the same, you'll be fine. But the next time you get toast it's the kind you wanted that first time, and it's a million times better.
Part of me wholeheartedly agrees, but another part of me wonders if it's simply practical for you to own at least one shirt that runs zero risk of being stolen by me. Plus, you really do wear it well.
Oh my god?? That's still so mean! You KNOW how much I don't like wheat toast!
[ it makes her laugh though, considering the first few post-midnight breakfasts they shared included this exact topic of discussion. just... in a different way. ]
I never said I would like it more, or even as much, if I was able to get myself off in the same particularly perfect way that you always get me off. I just said that it's very frustrating that there are going to be times when I want to get off all alone, when you're not there to help me, and any orgasm I have in those times just won't be as good.
And you were all "Well, boo hoo! That's just too bad for you! I'm GLAD! May you be DOOMED to having only mildly satisfying solo orgasms for the rest of your days, Nancy Wheeler!"
Well, maybe I am glad. I like being the one that makes the muscles inside your thighs go off like fireworks. I like being the only one that can make you whimper when I stroke you deep enough. I am glad you can't touch yourself like I can touch you. Because then even if you get off you'll still need and want me after.
( is there a touch of insecurity peaking out there? oopsie 🫣 it's fine... probably... to be fair, maybe he's not the only one feeling insecure? something about Nancy being so sensitive to being left to only getting off by herself is hitting a little different. )
It's not like I'm gonna make you live on just mildly satisfying solo orgasms for the rest of your days. I'm not always at work, or busy, or... whatever.
[ meanwhile nancy's split down the middle, because on the one hand, that's- all pretty hot, actually. like, possessive? almost? or just confident. or both! and on the other, something is hitting different right now. ]
Usually the only reason why I ever get the urge to touch myself anymore is because I was thinking of you, baby. So... not needing you or wanting you after I get off? Is actually pretty impossible.
( new Steve lore just dropped: he really cannot handle Nancy using pet names. it's not like he has a great tolerance for telling her no in general, but if she asked him something and paired it with baby he's a complete goner. no chance at all. )
Pretty impossible not to want to touch you when I know you've been fingering yourself thinking about me, so, sort of evens out.
Maybe you should let me watch you. I could give you a few more ways to think about me when you're getting off.
[ ... look, nancy's much more comfortable talking about sex and turn-ons and fantasies, but like. her imagination obviously still needs a little work. ]
I changed my mind! I want to start that way. Snuggled up under the blanket, with my back against your chest, and your arms around me? Like last time. Except maybe I won't wear a bra, and I definitely won't scold you when you inevitably try to sneak your hands under my shirt.
I don't remember you scolding me last time, either.
( there had been a really, Steve, but it was mostly put on petulance considering she'd wiggled closer against his chest to let his palm wander. and when it did wander, eventually she'd ended up twisting to kiss him with a breathy little giggle. so yeah, not a lot of scolding at all. )
Blanket, cuddled up, no bra, feeling you up as you touch yourself. Yeah, I can get behind that. Only problem is I wouldn't really get to see you, and that's half the fun.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Well! An attempt was made, and I think that should count for something.
[ she just really missed the easy physical affection he gives her, in a way that almost seems instinctual. sometimes it's- goal oriented, like the time they're talking about now, and sometimes its just something like his thumb tracing tiny circles just under the hem of her shirt, when he has his hand on her hip, and she loves all of it. and she has a lot of catching up to do!! ]
Oh, right. Hmmm. Bedroom, then. No movie, no blanket. Sometimes it's fun trying to stay quiet when we're in the den, but trying this out with no clothes in the way sounds even more fun.
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She was probably just being dramatic.
Hey, those shorts were not stu
Okay, maybe they were a little stupid.
But you always look good in blue, and that includes when it comes in the form of a sailor uniform.
Oh, trust me, I know you do. I'm not sure my mom ever believed the "I accidentally burned myself with my curling iron" excuse, but I've used it so many times now that I think even my dad is starting to catch on.
I'm not going to
tit punch you.
I would punch you in the shoulder, maybe.
[ or pout in that way that makes him panic a little. either one. probably the second one. ]
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That was the worst I've ever looked, thank you very much, but I can probably manage to wear blue that isn't nautically themed if you like it that much. ( because he's vain and will take the You look good in blue even if he abjectly refuses the idea he looked good as a little sailor boy. )
That bad? I could tone it down a little. Maybe. ( he's frankly a hickey monster in his own right, these days. it's just that getting to leave hickeys on Nancy again is a particularly delightful thrill. and maybe there's the tiniest bit of caveman brain in there that wants to mark her as absolutely claimed, no questions. is that so wrong? ...maybe, but it's clanging around in there somewhere. between how much he likes the noise Nancy makes at the pull of his teeth and how good hints of him look painted on her pale skin. )
Tit punches hurt more, but fine. Shoulder punch.
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At the risk of recklessly feeding your ego, I'm not sure there's a color I don't like you in? But blue might be my favorite.
Or green.
No, blue, definitely blue.
You don't have to tone it down. I just need to remember whenever you leave a particularly noticeable one on my neck, so I don't accidentally waltz down to breakfast in the morning looking mildly debauched.
I like when you leave those marks behind, though. In the moment, and after the fact. The ones on my thighs are always still so crazy sensitive the next morning, in a good way.
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( damn steve, don't pull any punches there or anything!! )
How's it reckless? I do look good in green. And blue.
I'm glad there's not one color that really ruins it for you, that's nice. You look good in every color I've seen you in, too. But you look good in nothing at all, so that doesn't surprise me.
Really? ( interesting thought. he can work with that thought. ) How good are we talking? Touch yourself remembering my mouth between your legs and my hands spreading you open sort of good, maybe?
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[ shut up, she's not blushing the same way she always does when steve gets all matter-of-fact about sexy things, you're blushing the same wa- ]
It's reckless because I firmly believe that egos have limits! I really hope they have limits, at least.
And what if yours is already at maximum capacity, and I give you the compliment that pushes it over the edge? The consequences could be seriously dire. Catastrophic!
[ ..... oh, wait. that's definitely another matter-of-fact sexy text, and she's over here trying to be goofy about it. and then he's sending more!! shit! ]
Yes, really. And yes, sometimes it's exactly like that.
It's impossible to replicate what it feels like, or how it makes me feel, when you hold my thighs open wide, or down against my torso, or however you want me, but the hickeys
They're basically little bruises, you know? So
when they're somewhere on my body that's already sensitive, I don't even have to press into them all that much to get a particularly vivid reminder.
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Good. I like knowing you think about me when you're fingering yourself.
I think about you, even when there's no hickeys to help me along. They help, though, I get what you mean. I can remember you there better than anywhere else.
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A lot.
So much.
The most.
[ more than like, but damnit, she won't text it before she says it. even if she's starting to hit a point where sometimes she wants to type it a hundred times and send it to him so bad she has to ditch her phone in favor of her diary. and there've been too many close calls at this point. ]
Of course I think about you.
Actually
recently I've been realizing that I'm not sure I ever really stopped thinking about you, in that way.
And it's obviously more than that now, shush, that's not my point.
I just know I never forgot what your hands feel like. On my hips, and my thighs, and in my hair, and on my breasts, and my ass, and do you even know
how frustrating it is
that it doesn't matter how many different angles I tried, or positions, or if I used two fingers or three, or what
it's never felt as good as two of your fingers filling me up?
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It just means I know that you like it, and I like knowing what you like. Especially when I'm the thing you like.
( which feels a little needy and overly exposed to admit, oops, awkward. it's just... look, he really does like reminders Nancy likes him. okay? things are good, they're more! !! than good!!! but things went from good to bad to bullshit, so fast he still feels stupid that he didn't see the signs before it was too late.
so it's nice. when she says it. when he doesn't have to guess, or wonder. that's all. )
I thought about you, too. Kind of made me feel like an asshole. ( and probably did not help in the letting go and moving on front, so he tried to stop. picked dates that were about as far from Nancy Wheeler as he could get, so no wires could get crossed. and it's not like it was a bad time. sex is good, getting off is even better. it just was never the same. didn't have that spark, that feeling, that something. electricity. and his head was great at reminding him of that whenever it was over. )
I think I kind of like that your fingers don't feel like mine.
Because then no matter what you're going to think about me. Wish I was inside of you instead.
Curling up inside you as you make those noises you make, grip your sheets like you gotta hold on for dear life.
You'll get off but it won't be as good because I'm not there.
I like being the only one that can really make you feel like that.
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Blue, green, red. That one awful orange-y color that I genuinely can't stand when it's on the hanger, but then you put it on and it's like... Okay, sure! I guess that's my favorite color today!
And I like you in nothing at all, too. Especially after I've left some of those marks we were just talking about.
It's funny.. I don't think I really ever felt like an asshole for it. Which probably does make me an asshole, huh? But it wasn't intentional, at first. Not for a long time, actually. I would just be thinking about things that made me feel good, and imagination would just... go there. Your hands, your mouth, your dick. Seems so obvious now, but it didn't at the time.
[ yeah, no, she was definitely an asshole. because it's true- she didn't try to think of steve when she touched herself, but she definitely didn't end up thinking about her boyfriend as much as she probably should have. and maybe she knew that she didn't just dream up this guy that knew how to touch her, but didn't feel like jon. but at the time it just felt- dirty. in a fun way.
so, yeah. asshole. ]
What??
But
what if I need you, but you're at work? Or out, busy being a good friend?
You're basically saying you're okay with me having bad orgasms sometimes.
That's so mean. :c
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( he's not offended, not really. if anything this is the funniest compliment he has ever been given. he appreciates that Nancy thinks he can pull off something that is awful and orange-y. that said if he looks good in green why wouldn't he just wear green? that's easy. easy fix! )
You're not an asshole. ( it is truly difficult for Steve to conceptualize Nancy being an asshole, even if maybe the title is deserved, here. maybe they were both assholes, head and heart with someone else and not even brave enough to admit it to who they were with, or even to themselves. or maybe there's a better word for two people split apart by circumstance, with fringes of what they were left behind unresolved and unhappy. if there is, Steve doesn't know it. )
You were just... lonely. I get that. I don't know, maybe it's... no, it is fucked up.
But I'm glad I made you feel better. Even if it wasn't really me.
( and he is very determined she'll never get so lonely she'll have to imagine somebody else when they're together!! they are never making it to seventeen months without touching each other, Steve would rather die first. )
Not bad orgasms. Just... not as good.
Kinda like when you ask for white toast and get wheat. Yeah, it's sort of the same, you'll be fine.
But the next time you get toast it's the kind you wanted that first time, and it's a million times better.
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Plus, you really do wear it well.
Oh my god??
That's still so mean! You KNOW how much I don't like wheat toast!
[ it makes her laugh though, considering the first few post-midnight breakfasts they shared included this exact topic of discussion. just... in a different way. ]
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Oh, okay. I'm mean. Sure.
So, if I said I like jacking off just as much as I like it when you give me a handjob, you wouldn't mind at all.
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totally not the same.
That's not what I'm saying.
[ it kind of is, tho. this little shit!!! ]
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All ears over here, Wheeler.
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And you were all
"Well, boo hoo! That's just too bad for you! I'm GLAD! May you be DOOMED to having only mildly satisfying solo orgasms for the rest of your days, Nancy Wheeler!"
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( is there a touch of insecurity peaking out there? oopsie 🫣 it's fine... probably... to be fair, maybe he's not the only one feeling insecure? something about Nancy being so sensitive to being left to only getting off by herself is hitting a little different. )
It's not like I'm gonna make you live on just mildly satisfying solo orgasms for the rest of your days. I'm not always at work, or busy, or... whatever.
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Usually the only reason why I ever get the urge to touch myself anymore is because I was thinking of you, baby. So... not needing you or wanting you after I get off? Is actually pretty impossible.
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Pretty impossible not to want to touch you when I know you've been fingering yourself thinking about me, so, sort of evens out.
Maybe you should let me watch you. I could give you a few more ways to think about me when you're getting off.
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Just watch?
[ ... look, nancy's much more comfortable talking about sex and turn-ons and fantasies, but like. her imagination obviously still needs a little work. ]
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( look. Steve knows himself. who he is as a person. just watching would never fly, he couldn't last that long. )
I could touch you. Kiss you. Hold you. Just not get you off. That's your job.
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Oh.
[ still thinking, and also blushing a bit, too. apparently her imagination just needed a little nudge. ]
I could sit on your lap.
Or... close, in front of you?
Might be a fun addition to our next movie night.
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Or you can start in front of me and when I can't handle you that far away anymore I'll just wrap you up and then we'll do lap.
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I want to start that way. Snuggled up under the blanket, with my back against your chest, and your arms around me? Like last time.
Except maybe I won't wear a bra, and I definitely won't scold you when you inevitably try to sneak your hands under my shirt.
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( there had been a really, Steve, but it was mostly put on petulance considering she'd wiggled closer against his chest to let his palm wander. and when it did wander, eventually she'd ended up twisting to kiss him with a breathy little giggle. so yeah, not a lot of scolding at all. )
Blanket, cuddled up, no bra, feeling you up as you touch yourself. Yeah, I can get behind that. Only problem is I wouldn't really get to see you, and that's half the fun.
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[ she just really missed the easy physical affection he gives her, in a way that almost seems instinctual. sometimes it's- goal oriented, like the time they're talking about now, and sometimes its just something like his thumb tracing tiny circles just under the hem of her shirt, when he has his hand on her hip, and she loves all of it. and she has a lot of catching up to do!! ]
Oh, right.
Hmmm.
Bedroom, then. No movie, no blanket.
Sometimes it's fun trying to stay quiet when we're in the den, but trying this out with no clothes in the way sounds even more fun.
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🎀ish? hereish?? yoursish??