[ 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}
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. )