Oooh, fine... But I make no promises. See you soon.
[ ten minutes? shit. it's not like she didn't know that it does in fact take ten minutes to get from steve's house to hers, but maybe she thought she'd have a little more time than that. but! it's fine. she hasn't looked in a mirror since she got dressed this morning, so she should probably check in on that situation, even if she's not about to do a wardrobe change or anything. she likes her striped sweater and jeans, thank you veery much. but combing her hair might be the considerate thing to do. especially because it's in that between phase of "should i get another perm? should I let it keep growing out? should i crop it all off again?", and-
anyway! ten-ish minutes later she's downstairs, absently not-pacing in the kitchen with her half-curls neatly settled. she's put the cranberry juice back in the fridge, and the vodka in the freezer, because, like- she doesn't actually know if steve might want a drink, because she didn't ask, so.. does she offer when he gets there? was it implied that drinks were an option? she doesn't want to leave it out, because she's pretty sure that would give off a very "thanks for joining me for drinks" vibe, and that's not what this is. ..not that she knows what it actually is either. but. shit, who cares????
luckily, there's a knock on the door that leads out to the garage, which interrupts that train of thought pretty effectively, while also giving her an "oh, shit" moment of hah! oh yeah! this is real. she really did send steve that ridiculous and impulsive text, and also finally told him about her split with jonathan, and now he's actually here. cool. very casual, very cool.
although the way her smile fully reaches her eyes after she opens the door and finds him there, right there, probably isn't all that cool. neither is the way she ends up sort of leaning her weight against the grip she has on the doorknob, held tilting, before she even says anything. what? she's happy to see him. and the step up into the house conveniently puts her at eye level with him, without her needing to lift onto her toes, too. convenient for what, exactly? who knows. doesn't matter. don't worry about it. nancy's not. ]
( the drive to the wheelers is muscle memory. something steve has tried to forget, but it's worn into the grooves of his brain like a well-tread track. in the weeks after he and nancy were officially over, steve would sometimes go for a drive to clear his head and find himself halfway to nancy's house before he realized where he was going.
it's been a while since he's done that. he'd prided himself on being able to move on. and he had moved on—was dating other people, even if none of them ever felt right—but something about standing on the literal doorstep of the apocalypse made him reevaluate his priorities. eddie might've also had something to do with it, when he told steve about nancy diving into the lake after him. if i were you, i would get her back. it's weird to think that if steve and nancy do work out in the end, they might have eddie munson to thank for it.
but that's why he bared his soul in the upside-down woods. because if they were going to die fighting vecna, he wouldn't have wanted to die without ever telling nancy how he really felt. once the dust had settled and jonathan came back to hawkins, he'd felt like a bit of an idiot. but if he were able to go back and do it all over again, he wouldn't change a thing.
and now? he's kind of glad for it. not that he's glad jonathan and nancy broke up (okay, maybe he's a little glad; but he doesn't want his friends to be unhappy, either). but he's glad he said what he did. he's glad that nancy reached out to him. he's glad to be parking in her driveway again.
after killing the engine, he checks his hair in the rearview mirror (maybe he should've put more thought into it before he left, or into anything about his appearance, for that matter; he's just wearing the red-and-white striped polo and jeans he wore to work today) and gets out of the car. he thinks about ringing the front doorbell, but he feels emboldened to go through the garage and knock—just like old times.
and when nancy answers and hits him with that smile, his heart melts. it's the kind of smile that would stop him in his tracks in the halls at school. the kind of smile that made him run back into a house where an actual monster lurked, just for the chance of seeing that smile again one day. he thinks it might be the happiest and most relaxed he's seen her in years. and he doesn't know if he can take credit, or if the alcohol has something to do with it, but either way, he smiles back. )
Hi.
( the fact that nancy's at eye-level doesn't go unnoticed. his gaze drifts downwards, lingering on her lips, before returning to her eyes. he can't just kiss her right here, right? probably not. he should probably at least enter the house first. )
I heard someone was in need of a certified lifeguard?
[ the booze might be playing a part in it, technically, but only in the way it curbs her usual habit of playing things so damn close to the chest, even down to how she lets her emotions inform her expressions. she's never really nailed that part, though, even completely sober. her eyes say too much, always. her body language has a bad habit of contradicting what she's actually saying, too. so in this case, steve is entirely responsible for the way she's smiling, the vodka cranberry is just the main reason why she's not even remotely trying to hide it. and maybe why there's very little sign of the usual tension that's been ever-present in her posture since her junior year, too.
... and okay, yes, the fact that steve showed up so quickly, and with his hair looking touchably soft instead of perfectly styled, is actually more than enough to have her smiling like this. which sounds insane, but it turns out that it's still something that makes her feel sort of.. special? fortunately it doesn't hit her as hard as it did in the past ( when it felt like such a huge deal, and she was the only one who ever saw him this way ), but- it's still pretty embarrassing that she even mentally noted it in the first place, yes. she's aware. whatever. plus, she just thinks he looks even more handsome this way, somehow. sue her.
although now that he's here, she's somehow caught between two different impulses at once - one part of her wanting to gently comb through his hair with her fingers and see how long it takes until he starts to lean into it, and the other part wanting to kiss the hell out of him, until they're both dizzy from it. right there in her doorway. especially when she notices the way his eyes dropped to her lips for just that brief moment. shit.
the joke helps her refocus, at least, in that it does make her laugh, and gives her a reason to shake her head, then duck her head for a moment. almost exactly like how she used to, whenever he'd tease her by her locker. only there's nowhere to hide it, with the way the step puts her at the same height as him. ah. ]
That would be me, yes. [ she gently shakes her bangs out of her eyes once she looks up at him again, then delicately presses a hand to her chest, tries her best impression of a damsel in distress ] Thank goodness you're here. [ it doesn't last long, and she finally takes a step back as she laughs again, tips her head ] C'mon in. It is way too cold to be hanging out in the doorway.
( as soon as the words left his mouth, steve almost cringed. like cheesy dialogue from a bad porno. did someone call a handyman? but it's probably still less embarrassing than what he would've said otherwise, probably something like: you look beautiful. because she really does, in her sweater and jeans with her relaxed curls falling around her face, and that smile. but even if steve feels a prickle of heat on the back of his neck, delayed embarrassment, nancy doesn't seem to think less of him for it. on the contrary, she rolls with it, jokes right back, and it still sounds a little like dialogue from a porno—but it doesn't feel cheesy. or bad. just...endearing. punctuated by the golden sound of her laughter.
upon being invited, steve ducks his head and steps inside, pulling the door closed behind him. he toes off his sneakers in the hallway—old habit, one of those things he did to impress nancy's parents—and then stands with his hands in his pockets. he hasn't really stopped smiling since she answered the door. )
Well, I'm duty-bound to answer any and all distress calls.
( he feels less embarrassed this time, a little more suave. they're bantering. and it's easy. just like old times. )
[ for some reason, she honestly didn't too think much about how it would feel to spend time with him here, specifically. so she definitely wasn't prepared for the way it feels so oddly nostalgic, almost. in certain, specific ways. like something from another life, yeah. he bends to take his shoes off, and she feels the same need to insist "oh, no, you don't have to do that" the way she did the very first time he came over ( that her parents knew about, ahem. ), although it ended up being a good call on his part when karen noted it with a pleased "such good manners!" directed his way.
she thinks maybe the nostalgia could've had the potential to make the situation sort of heavy, or just awkward, but it doesn't. they've both grown up in about a dozen different ways, but he doesn't even look out of place. then again, steve's always been frustratingly gifted at not looking out of place, even in situations where he absolutely should have. the way he won over the hollands within minutes of meeting them comes to mind first, despite the fact that they never knew him to be one of barbara's friends, and the fact that those dinners weren't exactly a happy occasion. she's pretty sure she never thanked him enough for doing that for her, spending all those nights stomaching mrs. holland's horrifically dry meatloaf, and mr. holland's terribly boring stories, but... she'll just add it to the list of things she wishes she did a little differently, back then. also? nancy's reminded yet again that she wishes she had that ability to look natural and fit right in anywhere she goes, because it would be so incredibly useful in her future career as a journalist and oh-
god-
steve really can't just go around putting his hands in his pockets like that, because the way it makes nancy's brain fully tank into the gutter almost immediately is actually really embarrassing. it's just... his jeans were always of those topics they would joke about, right, once they were well into that comfort zone of openly talking about what they find attractive about each other. she would bemoan that his jeans were a problem, they were too tight, a tease really! and that the way he looked in them was too distracting. because it was true.
it's still true. jesus. shit. why did nancy think she could handle this with any kind of grace, after having a couple of drinks? c'mon, wheeler, focus. and stop staring at his b-
belt buckle. ]
I- [ "iiiiiii" she's trying to talk before knowing what she wants to say. good start. ] - actually! Have a tiny bit of a confession to make. About that. [ yeah, good, refocus. there are a couple of ways she can play along at this point, but she goes with the one she thinks might even the odds here, make her feel less ridiculous for how his jeans just broke her fucking brain. she obviously just has to try and break his brain now. no sweat, right?
she takes a deep breath, as if trying to steel herself. complete with a deliberate false start - opening her mouth, ready to speak, then shaking her head no, she's not ready yet - then she starts again, eyes wide, so guilty. ] I know how seriously you take your lifeguarding duties, and that you would have to come to my rescue if I called. So I did. [ this is a dramatic pause, yes ] But the truth is that I don't actually need a shower lifeguard. The truth is that I... I lied. [ she's not sure what part of her brain gave her feet permission to move herself closer to him, but she's not mad about it. she probably shouldn't have moved this close to him, enough that she has to tip her head back a bit to actually keep eye contact, but she's not actually mad about that, either. at all. ] But I only did it because I really wanted to see you, and I really wanted you to come over, but I was too shy to admit it. And too shy to ask. [ she's starting to crack. her guilt-filled kitten eyes are starting to crinkle at the corners, mouth pressing into a line to stop herself from laughing. or to stop herself from lifting up on her toes and kissing him. either one. her voice is tiny when she talks again, barely holding it together. but like, in a way that will have her laughing too hard ] --willyoueverbeabletoforgivemeforthisSteveHarrington?
( it's entirely possible that steve catches the direction of nancy's gaze as she stares at his belt buckle. entirely possible that the corner of his mouth lifts in the tiniest of knowing smiles as he remembers the same conversations about his jeans and the problems they caused. it's not like there was anything he could do about it. they were just jeans. but he'd be lying if he said that, back then, he didn't enjoy the way it drove nancy a little bit wild. he'd be lying if he said that, now, he's not enjoying it all over again. it's nice to know some things haven't changed, in spite of the many dozens of things that have.
when she says she has a confession to make, steve's mouth flattens back into a line. he looks momentarily serious, maybe a little nervous, about what she's going to say next—until she starts off on the lifeguard stuff again, and the little bit of tightness that had pulled across his shoulders melts away. the smile curves his mouth again, though he tries his hardest to keep it down, to better play along with this game of theirs.
but it's hard, when nancy moves closer to him, and looks up at him with that affected guilt. when the façade starts to crack, and she's nearly laughing herself. after she's done speaking, steve's brows inch up, like he can't believe what he's just heard. ) Nancy Wheeler. You lied? About a lifeguarding emergency?
( and then, because if they continue standing this close for another second, he's probably going to be the one to break and kiss her first, he sways away from her and takes a backwards step down the hall. he gives his head a small shake. )
Pretty sure that's a felony. ( he's pretty sure it's not. he tilts his head at her as he takes another step further into the house. ) I might have to call Powell on you.
I know, I know, I know. The shame of it all. [ too bad the way her voice is a little singsongy doesn't exactly convey shame at all ] I won't apologize for being opportunistic.
[ she's not going to read into how she feels a tiny sense of victory when he takes that first step back, but she does, like she won a very low-stakes, unspoken game of chicken. and her somewhat impish smile fades fast when he drops the word 'felony', an exaggerated pout taking its place. but it's mostly just to stop herself from immediately breaking down with the kind of laugh that starts with a goofy "pbffbbbt". she lets him keep the space he's put back between them, but she follows, matching him step for step. ]
Oh, wow. You would really hand me over, just like that? [ there's a very obvious way she could segue this into something much more outwardly flirtatious, and the short pause and the way she's grinning to herself probably makes it clear that she's trying to weigh the pros and cons of it in the moment, but she ultimately lands on- ] I think maybe this could be the part when I tell you that I would do anything to convince you not to turn me in, right? And- I can do that. I would be more than happy to do that. [ as if the shower lifeguard line didn't already make that obvious ] But! First I would like to establish up front that I can also not say it, and that's totally fine too, because I have absolutely no expectations for- anything like that. Because I didn't invite you over just for that. It's not, umm- I wasn't just trying to- You know? [ "booty call". the word(s) she's looking for is "booty call". only she literally doesn't know that there's even a word for it. ] But my point is that we can do... whatever, anything you want. Watch TV, or put in a movie, or- Go for a drive, even! I would love to go for a drive. [ "love to" is a strong way to put it, but it's true, at least??? generally speaking?? her expression turns a little goofy, in a "what is happening what the fuck am i even talking about?" ] ... I'm going to make myself another drink now. Do you want one-? [ a beat ] Unless you actually do want to go for a drive. Then, don't. And I won't either. [ someone put her out of her misery PEASE ]
( his feet carry him to the kitchen, where he rounds the island, pausing momentarily to observe the fridge. lingering on a drawing that's surely holly's. then he comes to a stop, leaning against the edge of the island that faces the kitchen sink. he braces his hands on the island top, and when nancy jokes about this being the part where she tells him she would do anything, he shifts a little. because the idea is more appealing than he'd like to admit, and he has to stop himself from pulling on that thread.
fortunately, he doesn't really get the chance to respond to it one way or the other, because nancy keeps talking. his head tilts a little to the side and he bites his lip to keep from laughing as she rambles. he doesn't remember the last time he saw her this nervous, and part of him would like to think it's his doing, but he's not sure he can take that much credit. he has to remind himself that she's fresh off a break-up with jonathan, and she's had a little bit to drink, and it's probably more to do with either of those things than something like steve's presence. right? )
Nance. Whoa, hey. ( he reaches across the island and lays a hand on her wrist. ) First of all, I know, okay? I know there are no— ( he shakes his head, ) expectations. So, um. You can relax.
( he lets his hand fall away, sliding back to his side of the island. )
Second of all, we can do whatever you want to do. Watch TV, go for a drive... ( honestly he's just happy to be here. ) But, uh. If you are making another drink, I'll take one, sure.
( because even though he just told her to relax, he's feeling slightly on edge himself. and maybe a drink would help. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
> actionnn
But I make no promises.
See you soon.
[ ten minutes? shit. it's not like she didn't know that it does in fact take ten minutes to get from steve's house to hers, but maybe she thought she'd have a little more time than that. but! it's fine. she hasn't looked in a mirror since she got dressed this morning, so she should probably check in on that situation, even if she's not about to do a wardrobe change or anything. she likes her striped sweater and jeans, thank you veery much. but combing her hair might be the considerate thing to do. especially because it's in that between phase of "should i get another perm? should I let it keep growing out? should i crop it all off again?", and-
anyway! ten-ish minutes later she's downstairs, absently not-pacing in the kitchen with her half-curls neatly settled. she's put the cranberry juice back in the fridge, and the vodka in the freezer, because, like- she doesn't actually know if steve might want a drink, because she didn't ask, so.. does she offer when he gets there? was it implied that drinks were an option? she doesn't want to leave it out, because she's pretty sure that would give off a very "thanks for joining me for drinks" vibe, and that's not what this is. ..not that she knows what it actually is either. but. shit, who cares????
luckily, there's a knock on the door that leads out to the garage, which interrupts that train of thought pretty effectively, while also giving her an "oh, shit" moment of hah! oh yeah! this is real. she really did send steve that ridiculous and impulsive text, and also finally told him about her split with jonathan, and now he's actually here. cool. very casual, very cool.
although the way her smile fully reaches her eyes after she opens the door and finds him there, right there, probably isn't all that cool. neither is the way she ends up sort of leaning her weight against the grip she has on the doorknob, held tilting, before she even says anything. what? she's happy to see him. and the step up into the house conveniently puts her at eye level with him, without her needing to lift onto her toes, too. convenient for what, exactly? who knows. doesn't matter. don't worry about it. nancy's not. ]
Hi.
no subject
it's been a while since he's done that. he'd prided himself on being able to move on. and he had moved on—was dating other people, even if none of them ever felt right—but something about standing on the literal doorstep of the apocalypse made him reevaluate his priorities. eddie might've also had something to do with it, when he told steve about nancy diving into the lake after him. if i were you, i would get her back. it's weird to think that if steve and nancy do work out in the end, they might have eddie munson to thank for it.
but that's why he bared his soul in the upside-down woods. because if they were going to die fighting vecna, he wouldn't have wanted to die without ever telling nancy how he really felt. once the dust had settled and jonathan came back to hawkins, he'd felt like a bit of an idiot. but if he were able to go back and do it all over again, he wouldn't change a thing.
and now? he's kind of glad for it. not that he's glad jonathan and nancy broke up (okay, maybe he's a little glad; but he doesn't want his friends to be unhappy, either). but he's glad he said what he did. he's glad that nancy reached out to him. he's glad to be parking in her driveway again.
after killing the engine, he checks his hair in the rearview mirror (maybe he should've put more thought into it before he left, or into anything about his appearance, for that matter; he's just wearing the red-and-white striped polo and jeans he wore to work today) and gets out of the car. he thinks about ringing the front doorbell, but he feels emboldened to go through the garage and knock—just like old times.
and when nancy answers and hits him with that smile, his heart melts. it's the kind of smile that would stop him in his tracks in the halls at school. the kind of smile that made him run back into a house where an actual monster lurked, just for the chance of seeing that smile again one day. he thinks it might be the happiest and most relaxed he's seen her in years. and he doesn't know if he can take credit, or if the alcohol has something to do with it, but either way, he smiles back. )
Hi.
( the fact that nancy's at eye-level doesn't go unnoticed. his gaze drifts downwards, lingering on her lips, before returning to her eyes. he can't just kiss her right here, right? probably not. he should probably at least enter the house first. )
I heard someone was in need of a certified lifeguard?
no subject
... and okay, yes, the fact that steve showed up so quickly, and with his hair looking touchably soft instead of perfectly styled, is actually more than enough to have her smiling like this. which sounds insane, but it turns out that it's still something that makes her feel sort of.. special? fortunately it doesn't hit her as hard as it did in the past ( when it felt like such a huge deal, and she was the only one who ever saw him this way ), but- it's still pretty embarrassing that she even mentally noted it in the first place, yes. she's aware. whatever. plus, she just thinks he looks even more handsome this way, somehow. sue her.
although now that he's here, she's somehow caught between two different impulses at once - one part of her wanting to gently comb through his hair with her fingers and see how long it takes until he starts to lean into it, and the other part wanting to kiss the hell out of him, until they're both dizzy from it. right there in her doorway. especially when she notices the way his eyes dropped to her lips for just that brief moment. shit.
the joke helps her refocus, at least, in that it does make her laugh, and gives her a reason to shake her head, then duck her head for a moment. almost exactly like how she used to, whenever he'd tease her by her locker. only there's nowhere to hide it, with the way the step puts her at the same height as him. ah. ]
That would be me, yes. [ she gently shakes her bangs out of her eyes once she looks up at him again, then delicately presses a hand to her chest, tries her best impression of a damsel in distress ] Thank goodness you're here. [ it doesn't last long, and she finally takes a step back as she laughs again, tips her head ] C'mon in. It is way too cold to be hanging out in the doorway.
no subject
upon being invited, steve ducks his head and steps inside, pulling the door closed behind him. he toes off his sneakers in the hallway—old habit, one of those things he did to impress nancy's parents—and then stands with his hands in his pockets. he hasn't really stopped smiling since she answered the door. )
Well, I'm duty-bound to answer any and all distress calls.
( he feels less embarrassed this time, a little more suave. they're bantering. and it's easy. just like old times. )
They could take away my certification.
tldr this got so out of hand woops
she thinks maybe the nostalgia could've had the potential to make the situation sort of heavy, or just awkward, but it doesn't. they've both grown up in about a dozen different ways, but he doesn't even look out of place. then again, steve's always been frustratingly gifted at not looking out of place, even in situations where he absolutely should have. the way he won over the hollands within minutes of meeting them comes to mind first, despite the fact that they never knew him to be one of barbara's friends, and the fact that those dinners weren't exactly a happy occasion. she's pretty sure she never thanked him enough for doing that for her, spending all those nights stomaching mrs. holland's horrifically dry meatloaf, and mr. holland's terribly boring stories, but... she'll just add it to the list of things she wishes she did a little differently, back then. also? nancy's reminded yet again that she wishes she had that ability to look natural and fit right in anywhere she goes, because it would be so incredibly useful in her future career as a journalist and oh-
god-
steve really can't just go around putting his hands in his pockets like that, because the way it makes nancy's brain fully tank into the gutter almost immediately is actually really embarrassing. it's just... his jeans were always of those topics they would joke about, right, once they were well into that comfort zone of openly talking about what they find attractive about each other. she would bemoan that his jeans were a problem, they were too tight, a tease really! and that the way he looked in them was too distracting. because it was true.
it's still true. jesus. shit. why did nancy think she could handle this with any kind of grace, after having a couple of drinks? c'mon, wheeler, focus. and stop staring at his b-
belt buckle. ]
I- [ "iiiiiii" she's trying to talk before knowing what she wants to say. good start. ] - actually! Have a tiny bit of a confession to make. About that. [ yeah, good, refocus. there are a couple of ways she can play along at this point, but she goes with the one she thinks might even the odds here, make her feel less ridiculous for how his jeans just broke her fucking brain. she obviously just has to try and break his brain now. no sweat, right?
she takes a deep breath, as if trying to steel herself. complete with a deliberate false start - opening her mouth, ready to speak, then shaking her head no, she's not ready yet - then she starts again, eyes wide, so guilty. ] I know how seriously you take your lifeguarding duties, and that you would have to come to my rescue if I called. So I did. [ this is a dramatic pause, yes ] But the truth is that I don't actually need a shower lifeguard. The truth is that I... I lied. [ she's not sure what part of her brain gave her feet permission to move herself closer to him, but she's not mad about it. she probably shouldn't have moved this close to him, enough that she has to tip her head back a bit to actually keep eye contact, but she's not actually mad about that, either. at all. ] But I only did it because I really wanted to see you, and I really wanted you to come over, but I was too shy to admit it. And too shy to ask. [ she's starting to crack. her guilt-filled kitten eyes are starting to crinkle at the corners, mouth pressing into a line to stop herself from laughing. or to stop herself from lifting up on her toes and kissing him. either one. her voice is tiny when she talks again, barely holding it together. but like, in a way that will have her laughing too hard ] --willyoueverbeabletoforgivemeforthisSteveHarrington?
never apologize!
when she says she has a confession to make, steve's mouth flattens back into a line. he looks momentarily serious, maybe a little nervous, about what she's going to say next—until she starts off on the lifeguard stuff again, and the little bit of tightness that had pulled across his shoulders melts away. the smile curves his mouth again, though he tries his hardest to keep it down, to better play along with this game of theirs.
but it's hard, when nancy moves closer to him, and looks up at him with that affected guilt. when the façade starts to crack, and she's nearly laughing herself. after she's done speaking, steve's brows inch up, like he can't believe what he's just heard. ) Nancy Wheeler. You lied? About a lifeguarding emergency?
( and then, because if they continue standing this close for another second, he's probably going to be the one to break and kiss her first, he sways away from her and takes a backwards step down the hall. he gives his head a small shake. )
Pretty sure that's a felony. ( he's pretty sure it's not. he tilts his head at her as he takes another step further into the house. ) I might have to call Powell on you.
no subject
[ she's not going to read into how she feels a tiny sense of victory when he takes that first step back, but she does, like she won a very low-stakes, unspoken game of chicken. and her somewhat impish smile fades fast when he drops the word 'felony', an exaggerated pout taking its place. but it's mostly just to stop herself from immediately breaking down with the kind of laugh that starts with a goofy "pbffbbbt". she lets him keep the space he's put back between them, but she follows, matching him step for step. ]
Oh, wow. You would really hand me over, just like that? [ there's a very obvious way she could segue this into something much more outwardly flirtatious, and the short pause and the way she's grinning to herself probably makes it clear that she's trying to weigh the pros and cons of it in the moment, but she ultimately lands on- ] I think maybe this could be the part when I tell you that I would do anything to convince you not to turn me in, right? And- I can do that. I would be more than happy to do that. [ as if the shower lifeguard line didn't already make that obvious ] But! First I would like to establish up front that I can also not say it, and that's totally fine too, because I have absolutely no expectations for- anything like that. Because I didn't invite you over just for that. It's not, umm- I wasn't just trying to- You know? [ "booty call". the word(s) she's looking for is "booty call". only she literally doesn't know that there's even a word for it. ] But my point is that we can do... whatever, anything you want. Watch TV, or put in a movie, or- Go for a drive, even! I would love to go for a drive. [ "love to" is a strong way to put it, but it's true, at least??? generally speaking?? her expression turns a little goofy, in a "what is happening what the fuck am i even talking about?" ] ... I'm going to make myself another drink now. Do you want one-? [ a beat ] Unless you actually do want to go for a drive. Then, don't. And I won't either. [ someone put her out of her misery PEASE ]
no subject
fortunately, he doesn't really get the chance to respond to it one way or the other, because nancy keeps talking. his head tilts a little to the side and he bites his lip to keep from laughing as she rambles. he doesn't remember the last time he saw her this nervous, and part of him would like to think it's his doing, but he's not sure he can take that much credit. he has to remind himself that she's fresh off a break-up with jonathan, and she's had a little bit to drink, and it's probably more to do with either of those things than something like steve's presence. right? )
Nance. Whoa, hey. ( he reaches across the island and lays a hand on her wrist. ) First of all, I know, okay? I know there are no— ( he shakes his head, ) expectations. So, um. You can relax.
( he lets his hand fall away, sliding back to his side of the island. )
Second of all, we can do whatever you want to do. Watch TV, go for a drive... ( honestly he's just happy to be here. ) But, uh. If you are making another drink, I'll take one, sure.
( because even though he just told her to relax, he's feeling slightly on edge himself. and maybe a drink would help. )