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[ the wheeler family vacation was, as predicted, average at best. they're all so damn shaken ( except Ted, maybe, somehow, but mostly because he's completely oblivious ) that it takes most of their time there just trying to relax. it's been months since the mindflayer tried to destroy hawkins, but it's all still fresh. like, too fresh. shit.
but the lake was nice. quiet. they got to stay in a cabin which was just different enough from their home in hawkins that they could pretend, maybe, that none of it was real. why not, right? they agreed not to talk about it, unless a nightmare hit one of them hard enough that they had to. it wasn't all bad, though. nancy got to lay out by the lake with a book more often than not, and mike managed to talk their parents into getting him a giant lego set to work on. which he did, of course. and that's fine.
can't get a spiteful sunburn if he didn't spend too much time out in the sun.
but nancy's a little bit tanner, a little more freckled, and a little bit more relaxed as they all pile into the car to head back. mike's lego delorean is jammed against her ribs, but it's fine. whatever. it's just a five hour drive.
-- six and a half, with traffic.
she's not sure how she ended up on steve's porch only hours after they got home and brought all of their bags in the house, but there she is. their last conversation hadn't ended great, and she knows he's not going to want to hear another apology from her, but maybe he would. in person. maybe she could manage that much, and see for herself just how fine his "it's fine" face is.
his dad answers when she knocks on the door, and she's not even sure he recognizes her at first, but his brows do lift a bit when she re-introduces herself. ] Steve! [ he hollers up the stairs behind him instead of walking away to get steve, invites her into the livingroom after a moment of waiting ]
STEVE, come down stairs! It's that little friend of yours- Nancy Wheeler!
[ ... okay yeah they are definitely not going to be having a conversation here, nope. maybe the ice cream shop just down the road. or- literally anywhere else ]
but the lake was nice. quiet. they got to stay in a cabin which was just different enough from their home in hawkins that they could pretend, maybe, that none of it was real. why not, right? they agreed not to talk about it, unless a nightmare hit one of them hard enough that they had to. it wasn't all bad, though. nancy got to lay out by the lake with a book more often than not, and mike managed to talk their parents into getting him a giant lego set to work on. which he did, of course. and that's fine.
can't get a spiteful sunburn if he didn't spend too much time out in the sun.
but nancy's a little bit tanner, a little more freckled, and a little bit more relaxed as they all pile into the car to head back. mike's lego delorean is jammed against her ribs, but it's fine. whatever. it's just a five hour drive.
-- six and a half, with traffic.
she's not sure how she ended up on steve's porch only hours after they got home and brought all of their bags in the house, but there she is. their last conversation hadn't ended great, and she knows he's not going to want to hear another apology from her, but maybe he would. in person. maybe she could manage that much, and see for herself just how fine his "it's fine" face is.
his dad answers when she knocks on the door, and she's not even sure he recognizes her at first, but his brows do lift a bit when she re-introduces herself. ] Steve! [ he hollers up the stairs behind him instead of walking away to get steve, invites her into the livingroom after a moment of waiting ]
STEVE, come down stairs! It's that little friend of yours- Nancy Wheeler!
[ ... okay yeah they are definitely not going to be having a conversation here, nope. maybe the ice cream shop just down the road. or- literally anywhere else ]
[ let it be known that nancy wheeler is very aware that she should have taken the day off from school. the whole week, technically, but her rut seems to be at its worst today, enough that it's almost impossible to concentrate. not just for her, but the people who are unfortunate enough to be near her for any extended period of time. she must be giving off pheromones or- or whatever, she's still learning about all of this. it's not super common, this- this thing she's dealing with, at least not in hawkins, so it's been nearly impossible trying to navigate it all, especially when her body brutally betrays her like this. she just wants to get through the day! but luckily she's only been distracted by her own inner bullshit, and not the scent of somebody else.
well, up until lunch.
it hits her like a gut-punch as soon as she steps outside, like when she steps into a room right after her mother spritzed some kind of flowery perfume, and she stalls in her steps for a moment to try and recover gracefully from it. she tries, anyway, but she obviously looks startled enough that people felt the need to laugh. shit. shit. since jonathan moved in the fall, she doesn't really have anyone to eat lunch with her, so she usually just ends up alone on the bleachers, but right now her feet are carrying her towards that scent. away from the bleachers. away from anything, mostly, she's realizing as her mind insists she heads towards the back of the gym, to that stupid alleyway where literally nothing good ever happens. she'd be running if she wasn't mortified by the fact that she wants to be running. what the hell-
there's usually no cars back here except for the old janitor's pick-up truck, but after a moment she recognizes the dark blue car that's still running, driver-side door open. she forces herself to stop in her tracks, hand reaching out to brace against the brick wall to her right. no, no, no- ]
No, no, no- [ the scent is stronger now, too strong, and it's entirely because her brain just connected the dots, the scent to a person, and her stomach turns even as her pupils blow wide with need. she hasn't even actually seen him yet, because maybe he's trying to resist this the same as her, but she knows he has to be here. that he must be in heat, that he must have been drawn here to the school the same way she was drawn out to this back parking lot. there's a part of her that wants to beg, a please, get away from me, but her alpha tendencies are going pretty apeshit at this point, so all she really manages is a growl, quiet and focused.
she needs to wake up, shake this off.
god she needs to fuck somebody like, three days ago. she doesn't really sound like herself when she speaks up again ]
Where are you? Stop hiding from me.
[ NO WHAT WHO GIVES A SHIT??? ( she gives a shit ) ]
well, up until lunch.
it hits her like a gut-punch as soon as she steps outside, like when she steps into a room right after her mother spritzed some kind of flowery perfume, and she stalls in her steps for a moment to try and recover gracefully from it. she tries, anyway, but she obviously looks startled enough that people felt the need to laugh. shit. shit. since jonathan moved in the fall, she doesn't really have anyone to eat lunch with her, so she usually just ends up alone on the bleachers, but right now her feet are carrying her towards that scent. away from the bleachers. away from anything, mostly, she's realizing as her mind insists she heads towards the back of the gym, to that stupid alleyway where literally nothing good ever happens. she'd be running if she wasn't mortified by the fact that she wants to be running. what the hell-
there's usually no cars back here except for the old janitor's pick-up truck, but after a moment she recognizes the dark blue car that's still running, driver-side door open. she forces herself to stop in her tracks, hand reaching out to brace against the brick wall to her right. no, no, no- ]
No, no, no- [ the scent is stronger now, too strong, and it's entirely because her brain just connected the dots, the scent to a person, and her stomach turns even as her pupils blow wide with need. she hasn't even actually seen him yet, because maybe he's trying to resist this the same as her, but she knows he has to be here. that he must be in heat, that he must have been drawn here to the school the same way she was drawn out to this back parking lot. there's a part of her that wants to beg, a please, get away from me, but her alpha tendencies are going pretty apeshit at this point, so all she really manages is a growl, quiet and focused.
she needs to wake up, shake this off.
god she needs to fuck somebody like, three days ago. she doesn't really sound like herself when she speaks up again ]
Where are you? Stop hiding from me.
[ NO WHAT WHO GIVES A SHIT??? ( she gives a shit ) ]
Edited 2019-08-13 20:30 (UTC)
[ how did they even get there? what happened an hour ago-- or even five minutes ago? he has no clue, honestly, and he's not even paying particular attention to the background, to the room. he just knows that his mouth is on hers, and his body is pinning hers against the wall.
who she is isn't even really that important. his hands press against her hips, fingers pulling firmly against her shirt, to start to lift it up. the instinct to do so is automatic, propelled by instinct, and the feeling that they'd had some sort of conversation leading up to this.
he wasn't about to pause and ask her who she was, or make sure he'd introduced himself.
instead, he presses his advantage, tongue running along her lips. he feels like he's done this a million times before, but he can't quite place how or why. just that he knows what to do in this case-- with her. A pleasant sense of deja vu, when his motor is already running on hot.]
who she is isn't even really that important. his hands press against her hips, fingers pulling firmly against her shirt, to start to lift it up. the instinct to do so is automatic, propelled by instinct, and the feeling that they'd had some sort of conversation leading up to this.
he wasn't about to pause and ask her who she was, or make sure he'd introduced himself.
instead, he presses his advantage, tongue running along her lips. he feels like he's done this a million times before, but he can't quite place how or why. just that he knows what to do in this case-- with her. A pleasant sense of deja vu, when his motor is already running on hot.]
[ If anyone had told her she'd be a: friends with Steve "The Hair" Harrington, or b: studying over at Nancy Wheeler's house, she would never have believed them. And it's not even that she needs to study. Neither of them do, really... but it was a nice excuse to hang out with her (since when did she even want an excuse for that?)...
But there was a certain pull Robin felt to her- one that wasn't fair at all. She hates how distracted she gets by the small things: the faces Nancy makes when she's concentrating, the way her hair moves, her eyes, her eyelashes...
The pout of her lip.
She taps her pencil on her paper a few times, pretending she's thinking harder than she really is, before she clears her throat and announces, with some exasperation: ]
Do we really need to study?
But there was a certain pull Robin felt to her- one that wasn't fair at all. She hates how distracted she gets by the small things: the faces Nancy makes when she's concentrating, the way her hair moves, her eyes, her eyelashes...
The pout of her lip.
She taps her pencil on her paper a few times, pretending she's thinking harder than she really is, before she clears her throat and announces, with some exasperation: ]
Do we really need to study?
[ from here ]
Of course. Among other things, but their hair choices were at the forefront of it all.
Have you ever criticized someone, and they react so badly that you just can't help yourself from adding to it? I almost felt bad, but he was being such an asshole about it I couldn't stop.
Of course. Among other things, but their hair choices were at the forefront of it all.
Have you ever criticized someone, and they react so badly that you just can't help yourself from adding to it? I almost felt bad, but he was being such an asshole about it I couldn't stop.
[ from here ]
I know. You always go a little wild when I say your name a certain way, too.
If only I didn't get so sensitive after, I feel like you would just keep going...
But I've also thought about what it would be like to let you keep going, too.
And I guess maybe I'm a sap too, because I like figuring out what it takes to get your voice to crack around the edges like it does when you really need to come.
I know. You always go a little wild when I say your name a certain way, too.
If only I didn't get so sensitive after, I feel like you would just keep going...
But I've also thought about what it would be like to let you keep going, too.
And I guess maybe I'm a sap too, because I like figuring out what it takes to get your voice to crack around the edges like it does when you really need to come.
[ from here ]
Well good, because I happen to really like the way things are in this version of reality. Although alternate universe me would totally appreciate your support.
Wait.
You think those sounds I make for you
are adorable?
[ this just in! nancy wheeler is still fully capable of feeling wildly insecure over literally nothing, within seconds! ]
I secretly really liked it when you told me that you think my laugh is adorable, but my
my sex noises?? And the way I move when you're..?
That's actually so embarrassing??
Please tell me that's not the only word that comes to mind...
Well good, because I happen to really like the way things are in this version of reality. Although alternate universe me would totally appreciate your support.
Wait.
You think those sounds I make for you
are adorable?
[ this just in! nancy wheeler is still fully capable of feeling wildly insecure over literally nothing, within seconds! ]
I secretly really liked it when you told me that you think my laugh is adorable, but my
my sex noises?? And the way I move when you're..?
That's actually so embarrassing??
Please tell me that's not the only word that comes to mind...
Edited 2022-06-18 07:32 (UTC)
[ from here ]
What?? It's not like I plan on going into details!
[ she actually hadn't meant to text robin about it to begin with because she knows it's totally weird to talk about something like this with someone who's friends with steve - like, best friends even, shit - but obviously some divine power didn't want nancy to text candice about it ( not that she even talks to candice all that much outside of school newspaper meetings, but. like. maybe she doesn't actually have that many friends that she feels like she can talk to about this stuff. or any real friends at all anymore. and maybe hasn't since barb disappeared. maybe that's it. but she's not going to think about that, yikes. ) which is why the text ended up in robin's inbox. ]
As you know, Steve's been going through a weird patch with dating, and Jonathan and I broke up last week ( which you might not know, actually, now that I think about it. it's kind of a long story, but I can tell you about it later ), and none of it feels great?
So we went for a drive, that's all. Like friends do.
And then we were just two friends making out
and then maybe doing a little more than making out.
So. Yeah. Just like a back rub.
[ this just in: steve and nancy are actually idiots. you're friends with two idiots, buckley. ]
What?? It's not like I plan on going into details!
[ she actually hadn't meant to text robin about it to begin with because she knows it's totally weird to talk about something like this with someone who's friends with steve - like, best friends even, shit - but obviously some divine power didn't want nancy to text candice about it ( not that she even talks to candice all that much outside of school newspaper meetings, but. like. maybe she doesn't actually have that many friends that she feels like she can talk to about this stuff. or any real friends at all anymore. and maybe hasn't since barb disappeared. maybe that's it. but she's not going to think about that, yikes. ) which is why the text ended up in robin's inbox. ]
As you know, Steve's been going through a weird patch with dating, and Jonathan and I broke up last week ( which you might not know, actually, now that I think about it. it's kind of a long story, but I can tell you about it later ), and none of it feels great?
So we went for a drive, that's all. Like friends do.
And then we were just two friends making out
and then maybe doing a little more than making out.
So. Yeah. Just like a back rub.
[ this just in: steve and nancy are actually idiots. you're friends with two idiots, buckley. ]
[ from here! ]
[ the mention of his dad and college in the same sentence kicks up the kind of concern that would have her asking "are you okay?" if it had happened recently, but it's more likely that it happened at least a year ago, so it's easy to curb that impulse. but then he's repeating back to her that he's not mad, and she's just taking a second to read over everything he's texted her a couple more times, trying to figure out to explain-
well, how to explain.
and then there's that last one. shit. shit. ]
I don't regret it.
[ gets typed out and sent at a speed that would be embarrassing if it was in pretty much any other context. but no, that's actually the last thing she wants him to think, so she's going to just- pull the emergency break on that train of thought right away. not even letting it leave the station, no sir. but now she's accidentally doing that thing that she's been guilty of since the very first day she gave him her number, and that's typing out a few sentences, reading them back, then deleting them all just to start over again. she did it enough times that "not the dot dot dots again, nance! it's practically torture!" became a thing. it appears she hasn't kicked the habit. but-! how she words things, phrases things... that's important to her. she's never been good at verbally expressing her feelings, good or bad, until they're practically bursting out of her- it's something she still struggles with way too much. but getting the chance to write them out? that she can do. writing she can control.
and maybe it's not even all that serious. but it could be? maybe it should be. she doesn't know.
okay, enough dot dot dot torture. ]
I didn't apologize because I thought you were going to be mad at me.
I apologized because there were things in that total mess of drunken rambling that I know I should have said two years ago, and other things that I've thought about saying since then, but didn't.
And it's not like it's something I've been torturing myself over or anything, but sometimes that impulse to reach out would creep up, yeah, but I knew it would have been crazy selfish to do it.
But apparently that isn't something I'm too concerned about when I'm drunk.
And it's just so ridiculous, because the thing that made me pick up my phone and actually text you in the first place? I was fully convinced that if "Waiting for a Girl Like You" was really your favorite song, that meant you must have somehow completely forgot what it was, and why it means so much to me. [ that... sure was present tense. she should fix that. ... except there's nothing to fix. shit. yeah. maybe it really is still an important song to her. for a lot of reasons, not just because that's the song that was playing when they- yeah. no. it's because he sang it to her, okay, said it was hers. and the thought maybe stung enough that it might have totally been one of the things she confessed to her mom that night - how could steve just forget? ] But then it turned out you didn't forget. Which was, apparently, enough to completely undo any effort I've made towards letting go of all that other stuff.
[ ... solid work. she's okay with all of that, reading it back. ... no, wait. ]
So I'm sorry for doing that, for digging all of that up.
I know it was a lot of compliments, nice things, but I've always felt like...
Because I missed my chance to say all of those things when it would have actually maybe counted for something, saying them now would just be really selfish. Too little, too late.
And it was. It does feel like that.
[ too late forrrr what, nance? you loser. ]
Wow, that is all
so, SO dramatic.
This hangover is really kicking my ass.
Maybe we should just forget about it. Can we still do that?
[ the mention of his dad and college in the same sentence kicks up the kind of concern that would have her asking "are you okay?" if it had happened recently, but it's more likely that it happened at least a year ago, so it's easy to curb that impulse. but then he's repeating back to her that he's not mad, and she's just taking a second to read over everything he's texted her a couple more times, trying to figure out to explain-
well, how to explain.
and then there's that last one. shit. shit. ]
I don't regret it.
[ gets typed out and sent at a speed that would be embarrassing if it was in pretty much any other context. but no, that's actually the last thing she wants him to think, so she's going to just- pull the emergency break on that train of thought right away. not even letting it leave the station, no sir. but now she's accidentally doing that thing that she's been guilty of since the very first day she gave him her number, and that's typing out a few sentences, reading them back, then deleting them all just to start over again. she did it enough times that "not the dot dot dots again, nance! it's practically torture!" became a thing. it appears she hasn't kicked the habit. but-! how she words things, phrases things... that's important to her. she's never been good at verbally expressing her feelings, good or bad, until they're practically bursting out of her- it's something she still struggles with way too much. but getting the chance to write them out? that she can do. writing she can control.
and maybe it's not even all that serious. but it could be? maybe it should be. she doesn't know.
okay, enough dot dot dot torture. ]
I didn't apologize because I thought you were going to be mad at me.
I apologized because there were things in that total mess of drunken rambling that I know I should have said two years ago, and other things that I've thought about saying since then, but didn't.
And it's not like it's something I've been torturing myself over or anything, but sometimes that impulse to reach out would creep up, yeah, but I knew it would have been crazy selfish to do it.
But apparently that isn't something I'm too concerned about when I'm drunk.
And it's just so ridiculous, because the thing that made me pick up my phone and actually text you in the first place? I was fully convinced that if "Waiting for a Girl Like You" was really your favorite song, that meant you must have somehow completely forgot what it was, and why it means so much to me. [ that... sure was present tense. she should fix that. ... except there's nothing to fix. shit. yeah. maybe it really is still an important song to her. for a lot of reasons, not just because that's the song that was playing when they- yeah. no. it's because he sang it to her, okay, said it was hers. and the thought maybe stung enough that it might have totally been one of the things she confessed to her mom that night - how could steve just forget? ] But then it turned out you didn't forget. Which was, apparently, enough to completely undo any effort I've made towards letting go of all that other stuff.
[ ... solid work. she's okay with all of that, reading it back. ... no, wait. ]
So I'm sorry for doing that, for digging all of that up.
I know it was a lot of compliments, nice things, but I've always felt like...
Because I missed my chance to say all of those things when it would have actually maybe counted for something, saying them now would just be really selfish. Too little, too late.
And it was. It does feel like that.
[ too late forrrr what, nance? you loser. ]
Wow, that is all
so, SO dramatic.
This hangover is really kicking my ass.
Maybe we should just forget about it. Can we still do that?
Edited 2022-07-10 04:33 (UTC)
[ from here ]
[ to be honest, nancy's not totally sure why she asked for that 30 minute cushion. she spends the first few minutes not moving from the spot where she's stretched out on her bed, eyes on her ceiling as she tries to figure out if she just shot herself in the foot, coming on so strong in her texts just now. she's certainly a little braver when she's texting someone than she is when she's face to face with them, but not by that much. she's pretty sure. and it was a deliberate choice to text him about honesty and orgasms instead of something less, y'know, that. she's pretty sure some part of her was hoping for a reason to invite him over from the getgo. plus, she thinks- no, she knows they'll have fun, no matter what tone she can or can't keep up for it.
so eventually she's up on her feet, arms stretching over her head as she makes her way to the bathroom, because brushing her teeth seems like a pretty solid idea, at the very least. and after looking herself over in the mirror, she's even fine with the outfit she put on before to run some errands earlier in the day. high-waisted denim shorts and a fitted tee were nothing to scoff at. and the messy ponytail she's managed to gather her hair up into was just practical, for the summer heat. as if she's feeling any of that in her very well air-conditioned house. whatever.
the doorbell rings and she's there to meet him not too long after, having wandered her way downstairs and into the kitchen, basically just to chug some water and convince herself that she shouldn't let herself be disappointed if he decided not to meet her, for some reason. ( and of course the cold water makes her wince because the it makes her teeth feel too cold, shit, too sensitive, not fun!! but whatever. maybe she's a tiny bit nervous, too. ) anyway, she opens the door and opens her mouth to say something shortly after, something like- "hi" maybe? as one does when when greeting someone. but the stifling august heat makes itself known way too quickly, and yeah, nope, pleasantries can wait. she grabs his hand so she can tug him along with her as she takes those few steps to get back inside, and uses her free hand to swing the door shut behind him.
which brings him- right there. despite spending the last 45 minutes thinking about it, she's just taking a second to process the fact that eddie munson is in her house. specifically because she invited him over to hook up. or whatever. but it only lasts a split second before she's smiling, probably too bright for someone that was trying to act mysterious not so long ago, but it doesn't matter because that smile comes with a hand reaching out to grab the front of his shirt or the collar of his vest or whatever it comes into contact with first so she can drag him in close again. only this time it's so she can press her lips to his. ..okay, that's a very sweet way to phrase how she drag him in and lifts on her toes so she can kiss him, hard pressed and bossy ( and enthusiastic, for the record ). she makes it last long enough that her nerves have managed to settle down and fuck off, and has her tilting her face up towards his even once she settles flat on her feet again. ]
... Hi.
[ to be honest, nancy's not totally sure why she asked for that 30 minute cushion. she spends the first few minutes not moving from the spot where she's stretched out on her bed, eyes on her ceiling as she tries to figure out if she just shot herself in the foot, coming on so strong in her texts just now. she's certainly a little braver when she's texting someone than she is when she's face to face with them, but not by that much. she's pretty sure. and it was a deliberate choice to text him about honesty and orgasms instead of something less, y'know, that. she's pretty sure some part of her was hoping for a reason to invite him over from the getgo. plus, she thinks- no, she knows they'll have fun, no matter what tone she can or can't keep up for it.
so eventually she's up on her feet, arms stretching over her head as she makes her way to the bathroom, because brushing her teeth seems like a pretty solid idea, at the very least. and after looking herself over in the mirror, she's even fine with the outfit she put on before to run some errands earlier in the day. high-waisted denim shorts and a fitted tee were nothing to scoff at. and the messy ponytail she's managed to gather her hair up into was just practical, for the summer heat. as if she's feeling any of that in her very well air-conditioned house. whatever.
the doorbell rings and she's there to meet him not too long after, having wandered her way downstairs and into the kitchen, basically just to chug some water and convince herself that she shouldn't let herself be disappointed if he decided not to meet her, for some reason. ( and of course the cold water makes her wince because the it makes her teeth feel too cold, shit, too sensitive, not fun!! but whatever. maybe she's a tiny bit nervous, too. ) anyway, she opens the door and opens her mouth to say something shortly after, something like- "hi" maybe? as one does when when greeting someone. but the stifling august heat makes itself known way too quickly, and yeah, nope, pleasantries can wait. she grabs his hand so she can tug him along with her as she takes those few steps to get back inside, and uses her free hand to swing the door shut behind him.
which brings him- right there. despite spending the last 45 minutes thinking about it, she's just taking a second to process the fact that eddie munson is in her house. specifically because she invited him over to hook up. or whatever. but it only lasts a split second before she's smiling, probably too bright for someone that was trying to act mysterious not so long ago, but it doesn't matter because that smile comes with a hand reaching out to grab the front of his shirt or the collar of his vest or whatever it comes into contact with first so she can drag him in close again. only this time it's so she can press her lips to his. ..okay, that's a very sweet way to phrase how she drag him in and lifts on her toes so she can kiss him, hard pressed and bossy ( and enthusiastic, for the record ). she makes it last long enough that her nerves have managed to settle down and fuck off, and has her tilting her face up towards his even once she settles flat on her feet again. ]
... Hi.
[ from here ]
[ okay. so. for the record, nancy's only had two drinks. actually, she's technically still working on the second one? but the first one burned in a way that suggested it was a little stronger than it probably should have been - about a shot and a half of rum mixed with coca-cola, in a glass that's a bit too small to keep it proportional - while the second is evened out enough that the bubbles almost overpower the burn. which she thinks is great!
really though, she's not on a mission to get stupid drunk tonight or anything, it's more about taking advantage of the fact that her parents called to let her know that they ( and holly ) were going to be staying at karen's sister's house in michigan for another week. and considering nancy hasn't had some sort of meltdown, despite the fact that hawkins is still kind of on the brink of becoming a full nightmare hellscape, and that they still have no idea when henry might finally be strong enough to carry out the rest of his plan? she figures she's earned at least ONE night of teenage rebellion.
although maybe texting steve and telling him he should come over to share some of her dad's expensive booze with her, and not texting anybody else with the same offer, was a Choice. she knows that. she's not under the impression that this is the most level-headed decision she's made in a while. but to be fair, it's an improvement compared to how she's been handling things before today. because maybe she hasn't exactly hermit-ed herself away or anything, but she kiiiind of hasn't made any real effort to reach out to anybody ( beyond a few text messages ) in a decent handful of weeks either.
because it's also been a decent handful of weeks since argyle spilled the beans about emerson, and the "slow-motion breakup", and completely blew up jonathan's spot about just how long he had been actively lying to her about it. so like. she hasn't been feeing the most social. she hasn't been feeling much of anything, really. because it turns out that being on the receiving end of a slow-motion breakup is just the slow-motion heartbreak that she's been trying to make sense of for months, and months.
... but she's working on it! this is her working on it.
this is her... sitting at the bottom of the staircase that faces her front door, with her mostly-finished drink held firmly in both hands, looking a tiny bit zoned out as she stares at the little mail flap in the door and waits for steve harrington to show up ( hopefully with some chocolate chip cookies!! ) so they can hang out - alone - and get drunk. she's just about to lean down and steal one more small sip from her straw when he knocks, and the only reason why it takes her a moment longer than it should to answer the door is because she's apparently just buzzed enough that kind of needed to take a moment to just sit and process how happy and relieved(?) she feels, now that he's here. steve's here. isn't that great? and then she's up on her feet and reaching to open the door ]
Hi.
[ it's actually been a really long time since she's greeted someone with a "hi" that sounded... pleased. which is really messed up, but, that's kind of what happens when the last few weeks have been spent visiting max in the hospital room, or stopping by to see how el's been dealing with things, or volunteering at the school because people are still- no! nope, she can't herself think about those things right now, nope.
luckily! cookies.] I'm pretty sure you're the best, actually. [ yes, this is her answering his text right now, to his face. she's reaching for his free hand before she thinks better of it, tugging him inside and then leaning to use her foot to nudge the door shut behind him ]
[ okay. so. for the record, nancy's only had two drinks. actually, she's technically still working on the second one? but the first one burned in a way that suggested it was a little stronger than it probably should have been - about a shot and a half of rum mixed with coca-cola, in a glass that's a bit too small to keep it proportional - while the second is evened out enough that the bubbles almost overpower the burn. which she thinks is great!
really though, she's not on a mission to get stupid drunk tonight or anything, it's more about taking advantage of the fact that her parents called to let her know that they ( and holly ) were going to be staying at karen's sister's house in michigan for another week. and considering nancy hasn't had some sort of meltdown, despite the fact that hawkins is still kind of on the brink of becoming a full nightmare hellscape, and that they still have no idea when henry might finally be strong enough to carry out the rest of his plan? she figures she's earned at least ONE night of teenage rebellion.
although maybe texting steve and telling him he should come over to share some of her dad's expensive booze with her, and not texting anybody else with the same offer, was a Choice. she knows that. she's not under the impression that this is the most level-headed decision she's made in a while. but to be fair, it's an improvement compared to how she's been handling things before today. because maybe she hasn't exactly hermit-ed herself away or anything, but she kiiiind of hasn't made any real effort to reach out to anybody ( beyond a few text messages ) in a decent handful of weeks either.
because it's also been a decent handful of weeks since argyle spilled the beans about emerson, and the "slow-motion breakup", and completely blew up jonathan's spot about just how long he had been actively lying to her about it. so like. she hasn't been feeing the most social. she hasn't been feeling much of anything, really. because it turns out that being on the receiving end of a slow-motion breakup is just the slow-motion heartbreak that she's been trying to make sense of for months, and months.
... but she's working on it! this is her working on it.
this is her... sitting at the bottom of the staircase that faces her front door, with her mostly-finished drink held firmly in both hands, looking a tiny bit zoned out as she stares at the little mail flap in the door and waits for steve harrington to show up ( hopefully with some chocolate chip cookies!! ) so they can hang out - alone - and get drunk. she's just about to lean down and steal one more small sip from her straw when he knocks, and the only reason why it takes her a moment longer than it should to answer the door is because she's apparently just buzzed enough that kind of needed to take a moment to just sit and process how happy and relieved(?) she feels, now that he's here. steve's here. isn't that great? and then she's up on her feet and reaching to open the door ]
Hi.
[ it's actually been a really long time since she's greeted someone with a "hi" that sounded... pleased. which is really messed up, but, that's kind of what happens when the last few weeks have been spent visiting max in the hospital room, or stopping by to see how el's been dealing with things, or volunteering at the school because people are still- no! nope, she can't herself think about those things right now, nope.
luckily! cookies.] I'm pretty sure you're the best, actually. [ yes, this is her answering his text right now, to his face. she's reaching for his free hand before she thinks better of it, tugging him inside and then leaning to use her foot to nudge the door shut behind him ]
Edited 2022-10-02 04:58 (UTC)
[ from here ]
Maybe, just a little bit. But you're not wrong.
Last night might have been the first time I've gotten properly drunk since that party, now that I'm thinking about it. And I didn't drink nearly as much this time around. I never want to drink that much again.
[ because she still can't remember anything that happened that night, after a certain point. and that "certain point" still isn't even all that certain! so yeah, no, no thank you. even if it was a very specific, fucked up set of circumstances that lead to her feeling that emotionally fried and completely trashed, it honestly still scares the hell out of her that there is an entire block of time, of a few hours at least, that are completely missing from her memory. it would be one thing if she at least had some vague idea of what exactly was going through her mind when she said all of those things, because maybe she would have been able to handle the talk she had with steve the next day a little better, but there isn't even a single blip of a memory of it. he's the only one that has to carry around that memory, and that might actually be the worst part, since-
okay, she needs to stop. you'd think after vecna managed to get into her head because she couldn't let go of her guilt for barb, she would learn how to stop throwing herself into these emotional pitfalls of the past, but. nope. ]
I might still be a little out of it, because I so didn't plan on telling you about this, especially not in a text.
Not that I felt like I needed to hide it from you or anything! I mean, it was just a dumb party, it's really not that serious, I just don't want you to think I'm
I don't know. [ "actively looking for casual hookups" is the end of that sentence, but shit if this isn't the most awkward topic for them. ]
It's embarrassing, that's all. [ that works ]
Maybe, just a little bit. But you're not wrong.
Last night might have been the first time I've gotten properly drunk since that party, now that I'm thinking about it. And I didn't drink nearly as much this time around. I never want to drink that much again.
[ because she still can't remember anything that happened that night, after a certain point. and that "certain point" still isn't even all that certain! so yeah, no, no thank you. even if it was a very specific, fucked up set of circumstances that lead to her feeling that emotionally fried and completely trashed, it honestly still scares the hell out of her that there is an entire block of time, of a few hours at least, that are completely missing from her memory. it would be one thing if she at least had some vague idea of what exactly was going through her mind when she said all of those things, because maybe she would have been able to handle the talk she had with steve the next day a little better, but there isn't even a single blip of a memory of it. he's the only one that has to carry around that memory, and that might actually be the worst part, since-
okay, she needs to stop. you'd think after vecna managed to get into her head because she couldn't let go of her guilt for barb, she would learn how to stop throwing herself into these emotional pitfalls of the past, but. nope. ]
I might still be a little out of it, because I so didn't plan on telling you about this, especially not in a text.
Not that I felt like I needed to hide it from you or anything! I mean, it was just a dumb party, it's really not that serious, I just don't want you to think I'm
I don't know. [ "actively looking for casual hookups" is the end of that sentence, but shit if this isn't the most awkward topic for them. ]
It's embarrassing, that's all. [ that works ]
[ from here ]
oh.
Thanks c:
[ ... wait ]
but maybe not never??
Definitely not never. [ cut to a montage of every time steve's saved her dang life over the last 3 years ]
because yes I like protecting people and I like being able to protect myself but sometimes it's nice to
feel
protected.
you know?
so that's why i need a certified lifeguard.
[ okay, cool. stop texting, nance. right there. that's a good a place as any to quit typing words until after he's typed words back. maybe just put the ph- ]
I was about to say "let's drop the lifeguard thing" but then I totally realized that you being a lifeguard is actually a little bit poetic, Steve Harrington.
more than a little bit.
oh.
Thanks c:
[ ... wait ]
but maybe not never??
Definitely not never. [ cut to a montage of every time steve's saved her dang life over the last 3 years ]
because yes I like protecting people and I like being able to protect myself but sometimes it's nice to
feel
protected.
you know?
so that's why i need a certified lifeguard.
[ okay, cool. stop texting, nance. right there. that's a good a place as any to quit typing words until after he's typed words back. maybe just put the ph- ]
I was about to say "let's drop the lifeguard thing" but then I totally realized that you being a lifeguard is actually a little bit poetic, Steve Harrington.
more than a little bit.
[ from here]
Oh, I definitely like that idea.
Because your logic absolutely checks out, of course.
I feel like there's probably an upper limit to it? Like if you're even more sensitive than usual, or if eventually orgasms could make your cramps come back, since there's the risk of muscle strain after certain point...
But I'll be careful! Like I said.
And you'll just have to make sure to keep talking to me through it all.
( oh nooo... )
Oh, I definitely like that idea.
Because your logic absolutely checks out, of course.
I feel like there's probably an upper limit to it? Like if you're even more sensitive than usual, or if eventually orgasms could make your cramps come back, since there's the risk of muscle strain after certain point...
But I'll be careful! Like I said.
And you'll just have to make sure to keep talking to me through it all.
( oh nooo... )
[ from here ]
He pulled that classic Steve move of trying so hard to act subtle, that there's nothing subtle about it?
We were talking about Dustin and then he very suddenly brought up the weather, and how it's getting colder. But how sometimes it's the "in between" kind of cold, so it's too cold for just a sweatshirt, but too warm for his winter coat.
And then he brought up different options for layering appropriately for the weather.
Which then lead to "like that old track jacket you used to borrow all the time. that one was PERFECT for layering up. it was the one I wore during JV swim team. remember that jacket?"
He pulled that classic Steve move of trying so hard to act subtle, that there's nothing subtle about it?
We were talking about Dustin and then he very suddenly brought up the weather, and how it's getting colder. But how sometimes it's the "in between" kind of cold, so it's too cold for just a sweatshirt, but too warm for his winter coat.
And then he brought up different options for layering appropriately for the weather.
Which then lead to "like that old track jacket you used to borrow all the time. that one was PERFECT for layering up. it was the one I wore during JV swim team. remember that jacket?"
Edited 2022-12-13 02:05 (UTC)
( Nancy Wheeler just doubting him all over the place!! Steve can't say no to me! Steve couldn't possibly have sexy payback for slutty candy cane consumption!!! girlie, you got a big storm comin'. a horny storm. thank god this goddamn slow curse is about to end. )
You're acting like that wouldn't do it for me but unzipping you out of a Christmas onesie is not as unsexy as it should be right now.
( mostly because she'd be laughing and a little pink because she'd be embarrassed and FRANKLY a onesie is just one long zipper and then she's mostly naked that's some pretty easy access actually?? okay no horny brain is just taking over he should not be into onesies )
Nance. 200 people live in Amboy, tops. I'm not sure they'd even have a room to rent.
And you saying shit like I can't wait 45 minutes without climbing all over you is not really helping on the sit here and make booty call plans front, actually. At all.
...What if we go to the quarry before we hit the road? Like we used to.
( there's only so much they can get up to in his back seat, especially when they don't have the cover of darkness. but surely enough to last to somewhere that isn't "Circus Central", Peru, IN. )
You're acting like that wouldn't do it for me but unzipping you out of a Christmas onesie is not as unsexy as it should be right now.
( mostly because she'd be laughing and a little pink because she'd be embarrassed and FRANKLY a onesie is just one long zipper and then she's mostly naked that's some pretty easy access actually?? okay no horny brain is just taking over he should not be into onesies )
Nance. 200 people live in Amboy, tops. I'm not sure they'd even have a room to rent.
And you saying shit like I can't wait 45 minutes without climbing all over you is not really helping on the sit here and make booty call plans front, actually. At all.
...What if we go to the quarry before we hit the road? Like we used to.
( there's only so much they can get up to in his back seat, especially when they don't have the cover of darkness. but surely enough to last to somewhere that isn't "Circus Central", Peru, IN. )
A changing room would be a dick move, but it's impossible to work at a mall for a summer without wanting to get away with it at least once.
And I've always wanted to know how far you could go under a table without somebody noticing.
( wondered, and never tried. maybe that's pushing it, but hey, that's why it's a fantasy, right? )
I liked that too. Though it sort of felt like hell. The best sort of hell, don't get me wrong. To want more of you and have to let you take your time instead.
Sometimes it felt like you did that because you wanted me to stop you. Because if it got to be too much and I rolled us over you'd always make this delighted noise like you were just waiting for me to do it.
Overwhelmingly bitable. That's a really creature of the night thing to say, Nancy Wheeler. Vampire shit.
( not that he's complaining, honestly he's pretty glad his neck is "overwhelmingly bitable"! just, you know, not when there's innocent mailboxes around. )
And I've always wanted to know how far you could go under a table without somebody noticing.
( wondered, and never tried. maybe that's pushing it, but hey, that's why it's a fantasy, right? )
I liked that too. Though it sort of felt like hell. The best sort of hell, don't get me wrong. To want more of you and have to let you take your time instead.
Sometimes it felt like you did that because you wanted me to stop you. Because if it got to be too much and I rolled us over you'd always make this delighted noise like you were just waiting for me to do it.
Overwhelmingly bitable. That's a really creature of the night thing to say, Nancy Wheeler. Vampire shit.
( not that he's complaining, honestly he's pretty glad his neck is "overwhelmingly bitable"! just, you know, not when there's innocent mailboxes around. )
[ from here ]
What? I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was required viewing!
What if... Next time I stop by the store, you give me a full recap of Fast Times, and I rent A Room with a View again instead? Do I still get the friends discount..?
Stop, did he really? That's
wow
definitely not funny at all, and totally unforgivable.
I wouldn't blame you at all for telling him off.
To be fair, she is incredibly smart. I don't blame him for wanting to brag about her sometimes.
Although you're subjected to it much more often that I am, so maybe it stops being cute after a while.
What? I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was required viewing!
What if... Next time I stop by the store, you give me a full recap of Fast Times, and I rent A Room with a View again instead? Do I still get the friends discount..?
Stop, did he really? That's
wow
definitely not funny at all, and totally unforgivable.
I wouldn't blame you at all for telling him off.
To be fair, she is incredibly smart. I don't blame him for wanting to brag about her sometimes.
Although you're subjected to it much more often that I am, so maybe it stops being cute after a while.
[ from here ]
[ she almost makes a joke at her own expense, asks him if he still believed that even after she started dating jonathan byers, but- the breakup is still just fresh enough that she can't bring herself to do it. ]
If anything, that particular vice was his.
I just
helped him kick the habit.
That's okay, it's just a working title. Something to grab the attention of potential producers and sponsors, you know?
Half the battle of a successful pitch is starting with a good headline.
Or a good show title, in this case.
Oh, is that all?
God, you and Mike really are cut from the same cloth.
[ she almost makes a joke at her own expense, asks him if he still believed that even after she started dating jonathan byers, but- the breakup is still just fresh enough that she can't bring herself to do it. ]
If anything, that particular vice was his.
I just
helped him kick the habit.
That's okay, it's just a working title. Something to grab the attention of potential producers and sponsors, you know?
Half the battle of a successful pitch is starting with a good headline.
Or a good show title, in this case.
Oh, is that all?
God, you and Mike really are cut from the same cloth.
[ it's actually kinda silly, the paper-thin transparency of it all, because nancy wasn't exactly trying to be subtle about her ..mood, even as early as that afternoon. it started the minute she stopped by family video to visit steve and to pick out what movie they'd be watching that night. she might not have dragged him to the stock room and sent him back to the front desk all disheveled ( which she definitely has done before. just ask robin, she makes a big stink about it every time ), but she was being clingy and touchy in a way that slowed their usual pace up and down each row of tapes. the cover of footloose got a free show when she pinched either side of his vest to tug him down so she could kiss him for a while. the karate kid got a repeat performance, as well as sixteen candles and splash.
she doesn't remember actually agreeing that they should watch teen wolf, but it's fine. she's not going to be paying much attention to the movie anyway, and she's pretty determined to make sure he won't be either, so they can just watch it tomorrow.
he picks her up after work so they can grab dinner at the diner before heading back to his - she steals his fries, sips her mint milkshake too fast, kisses him silly with the insistence of it being the only cure for brain freeze. by the time they're walking back out to his car, she's pretty positive he has her number, that he must know she's basically already cancelled movie night in her mind, and it's usually on the ride home that he makes it clear if he's on the same page or if he's going to torture her a little bit ( obviously not letting her jump him immediately is torture, yes ), and judging by the smalltalk about twizzlers and popcorn right up until they were pulling up the driveway, it was clear he wanted to torture her.
but it's fine! she's just not going to make it easy for him.
... and, as it turns out, he's not going to make it easy for her either.
she goes right for the cheap shots, the easy kills - starting with insisting she wanted to get into her pajamas early, and casually bringing up that she had to borrow one of his shirts because she accidentally only brought a small pair of sleep shorts with her. and bullying him into the corner of the couch and stretching his legs out across the cushions so she could park her butt between his thighs and tug his arms around her as she leaned back. which meant they were sharing their first few twizzlers, because no he wasn't allowed to use his hands to hold anything but her, so she just held each one up and over her shoulder a bit so he could steal bites. ... sharing snacks does, in fact, count as a cheap shot, because she knows he's got a soft spot for that kind of not-so-little couple thing. it helps that she definitely does, too.
but anyway.
they're forty minutes into the movie and the half-eaten bag of twizzlers has been abandoned on the coffee table, and nancy has very little idea of what michael j. fox is talking about because she's been busy making three ( 3 ) solid attempts to distract him by now. but to no avail.
which is really fucking rude of him, actually.
but pretty great, too. she loves a challenge.
she also loves that messing with his hands is still the perfect way to- well, get handsy, without him immediately calling her out for it. and why would he? sexy motives or not, she likes massaging his hands, likes the easy intimacy of it. he might tease her for how small her hands are sometimes, but not when she's rubbing slow circles along his palms, or the lower joints of each finger, or the heel of his hand. she likes futzing around with his fingers without any practical purpose, too, lacing them up between hers or trying to line them up palm to palm, as if they haven't already firmly established that it'll never be possible. but yeah, steve's hands. they're just- really great. and so are his arms, and his shoulders, and his chest, and nancy so
does not want to just be curled up on the couch watching the way his forearm flexes whenever she skims her thumb over the inside of his wrist, while surfin' usa cues up on the tv. ..why the hell-? no, who cares, nancy does not care about the plot of teen wolf.
which is why she's finally slowly sitting up to shift around a bit, tucking her shoulder back and turning her hips so she's sitting sideways against him instead of with her back to his chest, and then doing the perfectly reasonable thing of slipping her hand under his shirt and bracing herself by holding onto his side as she tries to get comfortable again. or more specifically, tries to get comfortable while tipping her face up to nose under his jaw, pressing up to kiss him there. ]
Hey, babe?
[ pow. cheap shot. ]
she doesn't remember actually agreeing that they should watch teen wolf, but it's fine. she's not going to be paying much attention to the movie anyway, and she's pretty determined to make sure he won't be either, so they can just watch it tomorrow.
he picks her up after work so they can grab dinner at the diner before heading back to his - she steals his fries, sips her mint milkshake too fast, kisses him silly with the insistence of it being the only cure for brain freeze. by the time they're walking back out to his car, she's pretty positive he has her number, that he must know she's basically already cancelled movie night in her mind, and it's usually on the ride home that he makes it clear if he's on the same page or if he's going to torture her a little bit ( obviously not letting her jump him immediately is torture, yes ), and judging by the smalltalk about twizzlers and popcorn right up until they were pulling up the driveway, it was clear he wanted to torture her.
but it's fine! she's just not going to make it easy for him.
... and, as it turns out, he's not going to make it easy for her either.
she goes right for the cheap shots, the easy kills - starting with insisting she wanted to get into her pajamas early, and casually bringing up that she had to borrow one of his shirts because she accidentally only brought a small pair of sleep shorts with her. and bullying him into the corner of the couch and stretching his legs out across the cushions so she could park her butt between his thighs and tug his arms around her as she leaned back. which meant they were sharing their first few twizzlers, because no he wasn't allowed to use his hands to hold anything but her, so she just held each one up and over her shoulder a bit so he could steal bites. ... sharing snacks does, in fact, count as a cheap shot, because she knows he's got a soft spot for that kind of not-so-little couple thing. it helps that she definitely does, too.
but anyway.
they're forty minutes into the movie and the half-eaten bag of twizzlers has been abandoned on the coffee table, and nancy has very little idea of what michael j. fox is talking about because she's been busy making three ( 3 ) solid attempts to distract him by now. but to no avail.
which is really fucking rude of him, actually.
but pretty great, too. she loves a challenge.
she also loves that messing with his hands is still the perfect way to- well, get handsy, without him immediately calling her out for it. and why would he? sexy motives or not, she likes massaging his hands, likes the easy intimacy of it. he might tease her for how small her hands are sometimes, but not when she's rubbing slow circles along his palms, or the lower joints of each finger, or the heel of his hand. she likes futzing around with his fingers without any practical purpose, too, lacing them up between hers or trying to line them up palm to palm, as if they haven't already firmly established that it'll never be possible. but yeah, steve's hands. they're just- really great. and so are his arms, and his shoulders, and his chest, and nancy so
does not want to just be curled up on the couch watching the way his forearm flexes whenever she skims her thumb over the inside of his wrist, while surfin' usa cues up on the tv. ..why the hell-? no, who cares, nancy does not care about the plot of teen wolf.
which is why she's finally slowly sitting up to shift around a bit, tucking her shoulder back and turning her hips so she's sitting sideways against him instead of with her back to his chest, and then doing the perfectly reasonable thing of slipping her hand under his shirt and bracing herself by holding onto his side as she tries to get comfortable again. or more specifically, tries to get comfortable while tipping her face up to nose under his jaw, pressing up to kiss him there. ]
Hey, babe?
[ pow. cheap shot. ]
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