[ nancy's not totally sure she'd be able to pinpoint why she hasn't brought up what he told her in the upside down. when he thanked her, told her that the change in him was brought on by the way things ended between them, like it was some kind of wakeup call and not something she still felt so- uncertain about. told her that he's learning, crawling forward. and that he had always seen her in his future. and it's just- it's ironic in the cruelest way, that back when he really needed to hear her say something she had said to him dozens of times before, sickly sweet until it... wasn't, she couldn't do it. and then that dumbass kid came running outside to insist he get back in the gym, and it was just long enough of a pause that the words got caught on her tongue then retreated too far back into her mind to be overanalyzed again. she hesitated.
but this time around, when steve basically put it all on the line in a way she could never dream of doing, there was really no expectation, no lingering question that needed an answer. but she did. have one. it was right there, and she had even taken the breath needed to actually tell him, but then
but then robin rushed back to talk to them. and nancy was frustrated, for that split second, because in that split second she spent looking at the ground, then peering back up at steve, the words she wanted to say did the same thing they always do. retreated. and at this point she's sort of convinced herself it was for the best, because part of her was still so sure that eventually robin would babble her way through letting steve know she actually had feelings for him, and that'd be that. and she'd be happy for them, really, even if right at the moment, the thought of it made her feel... something. not jealousy, but maybe jealousy. something like it. which made her a shitty girlfriend, for sure, not to mention a shitty friend, probably, but she's a little out of practice, cut her some slack.
his hand slides down her back and she sighs, relaxes, like maybe she's just feeling more comfortable being this close to him again instead of that "is this okay?" weirdness they've been floating around in since she showed up in the kitchen. but it also makes her realize that at some point her hand made the decision to move too, without her permission, and slid from its spot up on his bicep, down somewhere closer to the bend of his elbow. which- yeah. um. yeah. that was a mistake. snapping out of her train of thought right in time to clock how his arm felt under her fingertips was a mistake.
she's starting to doubt if she's actually capable of friending the shit out of steve harrington. which does make her curl up against him a little tighter, for just a second, because if she can't be his friend then where the hell does that leave them? or leave her, really.
there's no way he actually knows that she's trying to figure all this out while he makes sure alvin and the chipmunks are more hangover friendly, but his hand moves to her shoulder and she just- she has to figure this out. she has to. she also needs to stop holding onto steve like she's afraid he'll disappear any second now. yeah. yes. she's doing that now. that's a thing she's doing.
although she fucks it up, like really, royally fucks it all up, because instead of just turning back around and pulling herself out of his hold the way she managed to do after that earthquake in the upside down brought them close ( too close ), and holding on tight, she just
sits up straight.
which brings them eye to eye, almost, and his face is so close ( too close ), the kind of close that always used to make her feel the need to insist that his eyes aren't just brown, that there's some green in them, before closing that last little bit of space between them before he could say something about her eyes that would turn her into a blushing mess, and- okay, okay, okay, okay.
okay. okay!
( for the record, if her expression shifts to that one the makes her eyes too wide, like she's pleading for something, something like do it, please. make the decision for me. for just a split second- no, it didn't. ) ]
Thanks.
[ she smiles, feeling a mild, ridiculous sense of deja vu, before releasing a breath she didn't realize she was holding in. and thanking her past self for pulling herself together enough to brush her damn teeth. shit. okay. okay, okay. she slowly unwinds herself from him, turning to face the tv again, even scooting a little bit towards the edge of the couch, like that puts all that much space between them. and then she's just- going to chug some gatorade, apparently. so much gatorade. and it has nothing to do with not wanting to give herself a second to blurt out something really stupid. ]
( he noticed her hand migrating, yeah. it just so happens that there's probably not any way Nancy can touch him that doesn't feel at least a little bit electric. that was never their problem, it's not like they were ever lacking the pull that made it so easy to fall into things, hot and heavy. maybe they were a little too magnetic. forces pulling too hard. maybe it was inevitable that something would go sideways when they let themselves indulge in it. Steve has never been any good at seeing beyond Nancy. he's ... he's still not good at it, honestly. it's a little terrifying how fast things can rush back in, after he'd been so sure that he was over her not a year ago.
a stint at the end of the world, late night texting and D&D lessons, sitting a little too close on the sofa, and that's it. he's a straight goner all over again. or he always was gone? maybe he always will be a little bit lost on Nancy Wheeler. it might just be his lot in life, to always be a little bit in love with his first love. Steve can't look at it and regret too much, besides the fact that he wasn't ready when she needed him to be. that their watches weren't synchronized and somewhere along the line they just... missed each other.
it's okay. it's okay that's not where they are anymore. Steve can accept it. he thought, for the longest, just staying clear of Nancy as she lived her life and he lived his was the best for both of them. Steve isn't so sure, anymore. it'd be a lie to say being close to her doesn't make him wistful for things. of course it does. he's only human. but he's a human with some modicum of self control, actually. still carrying a torch for her doesn't mean they have to give up on being around each other. he can't help how he feels about her but it's not the only thing in his life, the only part of what brings them together. not anymore.
if Nancy is on the ropes, unsure where the lines should be in a friendship with her ex — well, Steve can articulate what he's comfortable with, and she can meet him somewhere in the middle. she shifts slightly away, hammers through her gatorade like she's hoping it might be laced with something stronger than electrolytes. and Steve could sure let that happen, take that as the expectation. but he has a bad precedent for this, too. Nancy pulls back and he pushes back in, because he knows she doesn't actually want the distance. if she thinks she has to back off to try and keep him from reading into things, well, Steve refuses to let her think he needs or even prefers distance. because it's true, fuck the "is this okay?" weirdness. the answer is always yes. whatever Nancy needs or whats from him, it's always, always gonna be yes.
so Steve shifts back across the space she put in, nudges her with a shoulder. ) Okay, tiger, you don't have to kill that in one sitting. ( he lifts his eyebrows, a quirk of a smile on his face. they're back to a little too close, and he only thinks a moment how pressing into her space used to be so she could stop making excuses about not kissing him and get to it already. how easy it'd be to do it now. it's just a blink of a thought, because knowing how much he likes to kiss her is a hard thought to entirely dodge when they're this close, looking each other in the eye. instead of that, they can do... friendly. companion-y. and that's still good. yeah. it's good.
Steve leans back against the couch, arm propping up over the back of it, and attention shifting to Alvin. giving Nancy the space to shift properly to the far side of the couch, to distance, if that's what she wants — or. to not do that. to just lean back and enjoy the company and closeness, because Steve wants that at least as much as she does. he's not gonna make a move, there's no intentions here besides nursing off Nancy's hangover and just. comfort. friends can do that. they can do that. it's nothing to get in their heads about. Steve's natural blustering confidence, fake it til you make it, in action. )
[ she feels him shift and she knows he's going to move right back into her space, she knows because that's just what he does. or... did, rather. still does, turns out. but even knowing doesn't prepare her for when he actually does it, because it still makes her sit up straighter, like she's standing her ground instead of swaying in closer to him or sliding away to maintain that space. like she still has a silly point to prove, that she can hold her own in the flirtatious push/pull they fell into almost right away. but it does actually take her a moment to look over at him, because she needed to direct her smile at her lap, because she could feel that it was more pleased than amused, and there's a very important difference between those two types of smiles. it doesn't matter that he probably still saw that smile there, despite her efforts to hide it away, all that matters is that she tried.
he nudges her shoulder and she nudges his right back, aims the best "ha ha ha, very funny" look that she can muster his way. although it doesn't hold up as long as it should, ends up losing some oomph once he smiles. because her eyes drop too quickly to look, then take a second longer than they should to find his again, but he's moving out of her space to settle back against he couch properly before she even gets the chance to feel sheepish about it. she turns to look at him but ends up tucking her face against her shoulder for a moment, because she knows an invitation when she sees one, and trying to decide if she should accept it ( should, not wants to, because she definitely wants to and that's part of the problem ) isn't as easy a decision as she thinks it should be.
she knows that this isn't as complicated as she's making it out to be, but it's tough for her not to get in her head about it when steve seems to be handling this with way more maturity than she is. and she'd argue that it's because she's hungover as hell and he's not, but it's not really that. so she's caught right down the middle about how she feels about it, because on the one hand, she's grateful that he's taking the lead on things right now, impressed by it, even ( which feels rude to think, in this case, but it's true ) and a little surprised? in a way that reminds her she really needs to quit underestimating how much he's grown up in the last couple years. but on the other hand, it makes her feel almost... anxious? yeah. because maybe she's still worried about fucking this up. they talked about it somewhat, in those texts, but still.
she's selfish, doesn't he remember that? and she's impulsive, and indecisive, and has all these walls ( that she's realizing, in real time, haven't actually gone anywhere since the moment she first started to build them up, back when barb disappeared and it became clear that people didn't care, and have only gotten taller over time. walls to keep her feelings locked up, to keep her from getting too overwhelmed with grief or disappointment to keep moving forward. walls that protected her from letting the misogyny thrown her way by her shitty coworkers at the hawkins post break her spirit, and walls that continue to protect her from being with someone that tends to give her pushback, and make her doubt herself, when all she ever asks for is support. not help, not permission, just support. which, hah, isn't that the opposite of how your partner is supposed to make you feel? shouldn't he, y'know, help you learn how to deal with the things that made you build those walls in the first place, so you can learn to take them down? hm. oh. yeah. that's- a thing, but not a thing she's going to dissect right now, nope. ), and about a hundred other flaws, so how and why the hell is he opening himself up to her again like this?
... in a friendship way, yeah. even in that way. because even that is just-! it's-! and he-! he's an idiot, obviously.
an idiot that looks really cozy, at the moment.
damnit.
she reaches out to put her bottle down on the coffee table in front of them, then braces a hand on the cushion so she can scoot her butt back to sit beside him. she doesn't settle as hip-to-hip with him as they were before, but only because she will be sinking down low into the cushion enough to use his arm as a pillow, absolutely. she even takes the time to push her messy, poor excuse for a bun up a little higher before getting comfortable, so it does't dig into his arm. it also means her tragically unkept permed curls are kind of all over the place, but whatever. she's comfortable. she's surprisingly comfortable with this closeness, too. she could still tuck in that little bit closer to him if she wanted to, the option is right there, but... this is better, probably. for now.
the cartoon lighting up her tv ends up being a better wingman ( to her self control!!! ) than she was expecting, because it is still a favorite of hers, turns out. they're quiet as they watch for a bit, and it doesn't feel uncomfortable, but maybe she doesn't have it in her to just sit and relax quietly right now. she's been doing enough of that on her own lately. ]
I used to tell Dustin I thought he was just like Theodore, partly because it was true, but mostly because his face would turn so red, because he knew I meant it in a good way. [ she tips her head to look his way, pauses for a second so she can tip her head back to blow a stray curl out of her face ] But- He's Simon now, isn't he? He's totally Simon. So I guess that makes youuu... [ she tries to look contemplative, very serious, but her smile keeps interrupting ] Dave? [ the grumpy father figure that was currently bellowing the name of the biggest troublemaker of the three chipmunks, as he so often does, yes. her pause only lasts a couple seconds. ] Or! Or Alvin, you could still be Alvin. Totally.
( probably, he is being an idiot. Steve Harrington going full dumbass for Nancy Wheeler is his toxic trait. he just can't help it. back in junior year, it'd been lower stakes. Nancy was a serious girl, fixated on grades, intensely concerned about maintaining the expectations she'd made for herself. which was good. great. but it was choking, constricting, exhausting. she didn't leave any room for herself to just be a teenage girl. if being a little goofy could get her to laugh, to forget about her notecards and make out a little, sing along to the radio in his car — it was worth looking a little stupid. the smile he got after was worth the slight cool cred he sacrificed, when he could convince her to come out of her shell for just a little while.
and that was before Nancy had her best friend devoured by a demogorgon. before she'd had to set a trap for a monster because nobody else believed her (him included). before the seedy, ugly, terrifying unknown opened reared its ugly head and threatened everything she had ever known. before the Mindflayer, before participating in an Upside Down exorcism, before Vecna had targeted another of her friends, before they'd looked all looked death in the face and survived, but maybe not entirely succeeded. it's so much harder, now, to draw Nancy out of herself. to make her smile, to make her laugh, to pull her away from the everything none of them could possibly forget, even if they wanted to.
so, maybe it's stupid. to open himself up to it, again. when it'd been so devastating when she'd pulled herself away the last time. Steve doesn't think it's stupid, if it counts for anything. if he still has the power to make Nancy try to hide a laugh in a limited quirk of a smile, to lean back against the sofa and watch Alvin and the Chipmunks when everything seems to be falling apart around them — then it's worth it. maybe eventually she'll pull away again, there's a risk of that. but Steve thinks it'd be different, this time. he let her go last time around. Steve isn't sure he can do that twice. maybe it'd have been different, if he tried to hold on. tried to talk, explain, understand, anything.
if it comes it that, it comes to that. but Steve thinks they're old enough to avoid the same mistakes. they've been through too much to just lose each other again, not when they don't have to. they've lost enough in that final sort of way to give up on something they can actually save.
his hand curves slightly around Nancy's shoulder, thumb running the line of her collarbone over the fabric of her pajamas. it's weird how easily he can find it, still knows how she feels under his fingertips. ) I'm a Dave. Yeah. Shouting for troublemakers to get their act together and trudging after them to try and manage the mess as they ignore me? Yeah, I'm Dave, for sure Dave. ( it's something he's grown to accept. it's nice to have a Dave around, sometimes, even if he's a shouty killjoy. you need a Dave, imagine the trouble the Chipmunks would get up to if Dave wasn't there to try and run damage control.
but since Nancy herself gave him the opening, you gotta know that Steve wasn't mentally preparing for a Chipmunk Solo not to unleash it on her. ) What makes me an Alvin? It's the voice, right? Whoooaaaa, for the longest time.( Steve's at least mildly cognizant of the hangover, and keeps his squeaky solo at a more reasonable decibel than whatever Ted Wheeler was watching the news at. but it's just as ridiculous, even quiet. ) Alvin wishes. He's totally pitchy.
[ shit, she still has a lot of work to do, when it comes to getting the whole muscle memory thing under control. it's absurd that the way his thumb is tracing over her collarbone makes about four different couch-specific cuddling options come to mind, and very nearly makes her shift closer to him without even thinking about it, just completely obliterate those pathetic few inches between her hip being right up against his. she catches herself before it happens, but it's remarkably good timing that steve happens to be agreeing with her bestowing the role of dave upon him ( just adding that to the list of things she never would have expected steve to do, yep ), because the way it makes a smile quirk up the corner of her mouth is incredibly similar to the way she smiles in spite of herself anytime she catches herself before letting an impulse win out.
although the way she smiles at steve's self assessment is a little softer around the edges, for sure. is she even aware of the fact that there's a new addition to her rolodex of expressions? no. it's really just an extension of her steve-just-being-steve smile, but... it's different. a different type of admiration. one she usually manages to hold off until he can't actually see it there, but. well. not so much this time.
luckily! steve bails her out yet again by surprising her in a way that makes her laugh, the kind that has her face scrunching up ( and reminds her of the dull throb that her painkillers are still valiantly trying to fight off, but she won't hold that against him at all ) before she looks down and brings her hand up to rub along her bottom lip, like she needs to reel herself in. a habit she still hasn't managed to break. it's quick though, like maybe she thought she felt something on her face, and then right she's back to looking up at him, just with a smile that's a little more sobered.
of course, looking up at him again makes her realize that she's closer to him now, in a way that feels like she's much closer, but she's technically not. it's just those last pathetic few inches, that's all. but like, her hip is against his, and her head is definitely closer to his shoulder than his elbow now. which is something she very deliberately decided to maintain, only, what thirty seconds ago??? when the-? HOW? okay, it's official. she needs to find a self help book on self control or conquering impulses. clearly!!! also maybe a book on sticking to her guns, too, because even once she realizes the way she's tucked closer to him, she doesn't make any attempt at regaining that small space back. she's focused on more important things. ]
Leave Alvin alone, he's not pitchy. He's- That's just his voice. He's trying his best. [ that is not her quiet flirting voice, for anyone that's clocking her big dumb choices. it's her quiet.. quiet voice. it's just a quiet, defensive voice, okay? perfectly appropriate when sticking up for her favorite chipmunks. ] And I only said it because I was trying to be nice, but I take it back. You're definitely a Dave. [ a beat, and she's smiling again, her not-smile smile ] But at least he recognizes Alvin's talent.
He is pitchy. He has the worlds tiniest voice, and it's still pitchy. ( apparently, Steve is not at all impressed that Alvin just manages to hit notes on that helium squeaker he's got going. and actually, Nancy probably isn't wrong. maybe he would have been an Alvin, back in the day. big and brash and expecting he should be in the middle of everything. thinking he was a lot hotter shit than he actually was. maybe there's some unfair resentment toward a fictional chipmunk going on here, just a little.
he's not an Alvin anymore. which is fine, because Alvin is kind of an asshole. Steve isn't sure he's entirely comfortable being the cranky dad that shouts at everyone, it's just that he does see a few parallels. that's all! and maybe a cranky dad that looks after people isn't the worst thing in the world to be. especially if he thinks he's a lot less shouty in practice. only shouty when it is really warranted!!! it isn't Steve's fault that his children warrant it a lot. right?
whatever. not being an Alvin works out for him, a lot of the time. not being an Alvin has him on Nancy Wheeler's couch, with her wild rumpled curly head pressed against his shoulder, wearing that little smile like she's trying not to show she's amused by something even though she definitely is? being more of a Dave these days has some benefits, that's all.
Steve settles back against Mrs. Wheeler's lace trimmed throw pillows, and hopefully getting comfortable is a good excuse for keeping an arm securely around Nancy's shoulders. just platonic friends being platonic friends here, nothing to see, nothing to worry about. he's got a couple hours before he'll be on the clock, and if he spends every last minute in hangover hell with Nancy, it'll be worth it. the dumb content smile on his face is proof enough of that. )
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but this time around, when steve basically put it all on the line in a way she could never dream of doing, there was really no expectation, no lingering question that needed an answer. but she did. have one. it was right there, and she had even taken the breath needed to actually tell him, but then
but then robin rushed back to talk to them. and nancy was frustrated, for that split second, because in that split second she spent looking at the ground, then peering back up at steve, the words she wanted to say did the same thing they always do. retreated. and at this point she's sort of convinced herself it was for the best, because part of her was still so sure that eventually robin would babble her way through letting steve know she actually had feelings for him, and that'd be that. and she'd be happy for them, really, even if right at the moment, the thought of it made her feel... something. not jealousy, but maybe jealousy. something like it. which made her a shitty girlfriend, for sure, not to mention a shitty friend, probably, but she's a little out of practice, cut her some slack.
his hand slides down her back and she sighs, relaxes, like maybe she's just feeling more comfortable being this close to him again instead of that "is this okay?" weirdness they've been floating around in since she showed up in the kitchen. but it also makes her realize that at some point her hand made the decision to move too, without her permission, and slid from its spot up on his bicep, down somewhere closer to the bend of his elbow. which- yeah. um. yeah. that was a mistake. snapping out of her train of thought right in time to clock how his arm felt under her fingertips was a mistake.
she's starting to doubt if she's actually capable of friending the shit out of steve harrington. which does make her curl up against him a little tighter, for just a second, because if she can't be his friend then where the hell does that leave them? or leave her, really.
there's no way he actually knows that she's trying to figure all this out while he makes sure alvin and the chipmunks are more hangover friendly, but his hand moves to her shoulder and she just- she has to figure this out. she has to. she also needs to stop holding onto steve like she's afraid he'll disappear any second now. yeah. yes. she's doing that now. that's a thing she's doing.
although she fucks it up, like really, royally fucks it all up, because instead of just turning back around and pulling herself out of his hold the way she managed to do after that earthquake in the upside down brought them close ( too close ), and holding on tight, she just
sits up straight.
which brings them eye to eye, almost, and his face is so close ( too close ), the kind of close that always used to make her feel the need to insist that his eyes aren't just brown, that there's some green in them, before closing that last little bit of space between them before he could say something about her eyes that would turn her into a blushing mess, and- okay, okay, okay, okay.
okay. okay!
( for the record, if her expression shifts to that one the makes her eyes too wide, like she's pleading for something, something like do it, please. make the decision for me. for just a split second- no, it didn't. ) ]
Thanks.
[ she smiles, feeling a mild, ridiculous sense of deja vu, before releasing a breath she didn't realize she was holding in. and thanking her past self for pulling herself together enough to brush her damn teeth. shit. okay. okay, okay. she slowly unwinds herself from him, turning to face the tv again, even scooting a little bit towards the edge of the couch, like that puts all that much space between them. and then she's just- going to chug some gatorade, apparently. so much gatorade. and it has nothing to do with not wanting to give herself a second to blurt out something really stupid. ]
no subject
a stint at the end of the world, late night texting and D&D lessons, sitting a little too close on the sofa, and that's it. he's a straight goner all over again. or he always was gone? maybe he always will be a little bit lost on Nancy Wheeler. it might just be his lot in life, to always be a little bit in love with his first love. Steve can't look at it and regret too much, besides the fact that he wasn't ready when she needed him to be. that their watches weren't synchronized and somewhere along the line they just... missed each other.
it's okay. it's okay that's not where they are anymore. Steve can accept it. he thought, for the longest, just staying clear of Nancy as she lived her life and he lived his was the best for both of them. Steve isn't so sure, anymore. it'd be a lie to say being close to her doesn't make him wistful for things. of course it does. he's only human. but he's a human with some modicum of self control, actually. still carrying a torch for her doesn't mean they have to give up on being around each other. he can't help how he feels about her but it's not the only thing in his life, the only part of what brings them together. not anymore.
if Nancy is on the ropes, unsure where the lines should be in a friendship with her ex — well, Steve can articulate what he's comfortable with, and she can meet him somewhere in the middle. she shifts slightly away, hammers through her gatorade like she's hoping it might be laced with something stronger than electrolytes. and Steve could sure let that happen, take that as the expectation. but he has a bad precedent for this, too. Nancy pulls back and he pushes back in, because he knows she doesn't actually want the distance. if she thinks she has to back off to try and keep him from reading into things, well, Steve refuses to let her think he needs or even prefers distance. because it's true, fuck the "is this okay?" weirdness. the answer is always yes. whatever Nancy needs or whats from him, it's always, always gonna be yes.
so Steve shifts back across the space she put in, nudges her with a shoulder. ) Okay, tiger, you don't have to kill that in one sitting. ( he lifts his eyebrows, a quirk of a smile on his face. they're back to a little too close, and he only thinks a moment how pressing into her space used to be so she could stop making excuses about not kissing him and get to it already. how easy it'd be to do it now. it's just a blink of a thought, because knowing how much he likes to kiss her is a hard thought to entirely dodge when they're this close, looking each other in the eye. instead of that, they can do... friendly. companion-y. and that's still good. yeah. it's good.
Steve leans back against the couch, arm propping up over the back of it, and attention shifting to Alvin. giving Nancy the space to shift properly to the far side of the couch, to distance, if that's what she wants — or. to not do that. to just lean back and enjoy the company and closeness, because Steve wants that at least as much as she does. he's not gonna make a move, there's no intentions here besides nursing off Nancy's hangover and just. comfort. friends can do that. they can do that. it's nothing to get in their heads about. Steve's natural blustering confidence, fake it til you make it, in action. )
no subject
he nudges her shoulder and she nudges his right back, aims the best "ha ha ha, very funny" look that she can muster his way. although it doesn't hold up as long as it should, ends up losing some oomph once he smiles. because her eyes drop too quickly to look, then take a second longer than they should to find his again, but he's moving out of her space to settle back against he couch properly before she even gets the chance to feel sheepish about it. she turns to look at him but ends up tucking her face against her shoulder for a moment, because she knows an invitation when she sees one, and trying to decide if she should accept it ( should, not wants to, because she definitely wants to and that's part of the problem ) isn't as easy a decision as she thinks it should be.
she knows that this isn't as complicated as she's making it out to be, but it's tough for her not to get in her head about it when steve seems to be handling this with way more maturity than she is. and she'd argue that it's because she's hungover as hell and he's not, but it's not really that. so she's caught right down the middle about how she feels about it, because on the one hand, she's grateful that he's taking the lead on things right now, impressed by it, even ( which feels rude to think, in this case, but it's true ) and a little surprised? in a way that reminds her she really needs to quit underestimating how much he's grown up in the last couple years. but on the other hand, it makes her feel almost... anxious? yeah. because maybe she's still worried about fucking this up. they talked about it somewhat, in those texts, but still.
she's selfish, doesn't he remember that? and she's impulsive, and indecisive, and has all these walls ( that she's realizing, in real time, haven't actually gone anywhere since the moment she first started to build them up, back when barb disappeared and it became clear that people didn't care, and have only gotten taller over time. walls to keep her feelings locked up, to keep her from getting too overwhelmed with grief or disappointment to keep moving forward. walls that protected her from letting the misogyny thrown her way by her shitty coworkers at the hawkins post break her spirit, and walls that continue to protect her from being with someone that tends to give her pushback, and make her doubt herself, when all she ever asks for is support. not help, not permission, just support. which, hah, isn't that the opposite of how your partner is supposed to make you feel? shouldn't he, y'know, help you learn how to deal with the things that made you build those walls in the first place, so you can learn to take them down? hm. oh. yeah. that's- a thing, but not a thing she's going to dissect right now, nope. ), and about a hundred other flaws, so how and why the hell is he opening himself up to her again like this?
... in a friendship way, yeah. even in that way. because even that is just-! it's-! and he-! he's an idiot, obviously.
an idiot that looks really cozy, at the moment.
damnit.
she reaches out to put her bottle down on the coffee table in front of them, then braces a hand on the cushion so she can scoot her butt back to sit beside him. she doesn't settle as hip-to-hip with him as they were before, but only because she will be sinking down low into the cushion enough to use his arm as a pillow, absolutely. she even takes the time to push her messy, poor excuse for a bun up a little higher before getting comfortable, so it does't dig into his arm. it also means her tragically unkept permed curls are kind of all over the place, but whatever. she's comfortable. she's surprisingly comfortable with this closeness, too. she could still tuck in that little bit closer to him if she wanted to, the option is right there, but... this is better, probably. for now.
the cartoon lighting up her tv ends up being a better wingman ( to her self control!!! ) than she was expecting, because it is still a favorite of hers, turns out. they're quiet as they watch for a bit, and it doesn't feel uncomfortable, but maybe she doesn't have it in her to just sit and relax quietly right now. she's been doing enough of that on her own lately. ]
I used to tell Dustin I thought he was just like Theodore, partly because it was true, but mostly because his face would turn so red, because he knew I meant it in a good way. [ she tips her head to look his way, pauses for a second so she can tip her head back to blow a stray curl out of her face ] But- He's Simon now, isn't he? He's totally Simon. So I guess that makes youuu... [ she tries to look contemplative, very serious, but her smile keeps interrupting ] Dave? [ the grumpy father figure that was currently bellowing the name of the biggest troublemaker of the three chipmunks, as he so often does, yes. her pause only lasts a couple seconds. ] Or! Or Alvin, you could still be Alvin. Totally.
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and that was before Nancy had her best friend devoured by a demogorgon. before she'd had to set a trap for a monster because nobody else believed her (him included). before the seedy, ugly, terrifying unknown opened reared its ugly head and threatened everything she had ever known. before the Mindflayer, before participating in an Upside Down exorcism, before Vecna had targeted another of her friends, before they'd looked all looked death in the face and survived, but maybe not entirely succeeded. it's so much harder, now, to draw Nancy out of herself. to make her smile, to make her laugh, to pull her away from the everything none of them could possibly forget, even if they wanted to.
so, maybe it's stupid. to open himself up to it, again. when it'd been so devastating when she'd pulled herself away the last time. Steve doesn't think it's stupid, if it counts for anything. if he still has the power to make Nancy try to hide a laugh in a limited quirk of a smile, to lean back against the sofa and watch Alvin and the Chipmunks when everything seems to be falling apart around them — then it's worth it. maybe eventually she'll pull away again, there's a risk of that. but Steve thinks it'd be different, this time. he let her go last time around. Steve isn't sure he can do that twice. maybe it'd have been different, if he tried to hold on. tried to talk, explain, understand, anything.
if it comes it that, it comes to that. but Steve thinks they're old enough to avoid the same mistakes. they've been through too much to just lose each other again, not when they don't have to. they've lost enough in that final sort of way to give up on something they can actually save.
his hand curves slightly around Nancy's shoulder, thumb running the line of her collarbone over the fabric of her pajamas. it's weird how easily he can find it, still knows how she feels under his fingertips. ) I'm a Dave. Yeah. Shouting for troublemakers to get their act together and trudging after them to try and manage the mess as they ignore me? Yeah, I'm Dave, for sure Dave. ( it's something he's grown to accept. it's nice to have a Dave around, sometimes, even if he's a shouty killjoy. you need a Dave, imagine the trouble the Chipmunks would get up to if Dave wasn't there to try and run damage control.
but since Nancy herself gave him the opening, you gotta know that Steve wasn't mentally preparing for a Chipmunk Solo not to unleash it on her. ) What makes me an Alvin? It's the voice, right? Whoooaaaa, for the longest time. ( Steve's at least mildly cognizant of the hangover, and keeps his squeaky solo at a more reasonable decibel than whatever Ted Wheeler was watching the news at. but it's just as ridiculous, even quiet. ) Alvin wishes. He's totally pitchy.
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although the way she smiles at steve's self assessment is a little softer around the edges, for sure. is she even aware of the fact that there's a new addition to her rolodex of expressions? no. it's really just an extension of her steve-just-being-steve smile, but... it's different. a different type of admiration. one she usually manages to hold off until he can't actually see it there, but. well. not so much this time.
luckily! steve bails her out yet again by surprising her in a way that makes her laugh, the kind that has her face scrunching up ( and reminds her of the dull throb that her painkillers are still valiantly trying to fight off, but she won't hold that against him at all ) before she looks down and brings her hand up to rub along her bottom lip, like she needs to reel herself in. a habit she still hasn't managed to break. it's quick though, like maybe she thought she felt something on her face, and then right she's back to looking up at him, just with a smile that's a little more sobered.
of course, looking up at him again makes her realize that she's closer to him now, in a way that feels like she's much closer, but she's technically not. it's just those last pathetic few inches, that's all. but like, her hip is against his, and her head is definitely closer to his shoulder than his elbow now. which is something she very deliberately decided to maintain, only, what thirty seconds ago??? when the-? HOW? okay, it's official. she needs to find a self help book on self control or conquering impulses. clearly!!! also maybe a book on sticking to her guns, too, because even once she realizes the way she's tucked closer to him, she doesn't make any attempt at regaining that small space back. she's focused on more important things. ]
Leave Alvin alone, he's not pitchy. He's- That's just his voice. He's trying his best. [ that is not her quiet flirting voice, for anyone that's clocking her big dumb choices. it's her quiet.. quiet voice. it's just a quiet, defensive voice, okay? perfectly appropriate when sticking up for her favorite chipmunks. ] And I only said it because I was trying to be nice, but I take it back. You're definitely a Dave. [ a beat, and she's smiling again, her not-smile smile ] But at least he recognizes Alvin's talent.
🎀 here maybe??
he's not an Alvin anymore. which is fine, because Alvin is kind of an asshole. Steve isn't sure he's entirely comfortable being the cranky dad that shouts at everyone, it's just that he does see a few parallels. that's all! and maybe a cranky dad that looks after people isn't the worst thing in the world to be. especially if he thinks he's a lot less shouty in practice. only shouty when it is really warranted!!! it isn't Steve's fault that his children warrant it a lot. right?
whatever. not being an Alvin works out for him, a lot of the time. not being an Alvin has him on Nancy Wheeler's couch, with her wild rumpled curly head pressed against his shoulder, wearing that little smile like she's trying not to show she's amused by something even though she definitely is? being more of a Dave these days has some benefits, that's all.
Steve settles back against Mrs. Wheeler's lace trimmed throw pillows, and hopefully getting comfortable is a good excuse for keeping an arm securely around Nancy's shoulders. just platonic friends being platonic friends here, nothing to see, nothing to worry about. he's got a couple hours before he'll be on the clock, and if he spends every last minute in hangover hell with Nancy, it'll be worth it. the dumb content smile on his face is proof enough of that. )