Author's Notes: Yet another fandom that I never saw myself writing in! But such is the joy of LJ's yuletide (this was written for seawench), and such seems to be the trend for this past year in general, so I'm not complaining. It was alot of fun, and has renewed my interest in the fandom!
Sometimes Nancy thought it would be easier if she were just having an affair.
For one, she could evade a tail the way that some women could make a casserole, and knew never to leave a paper trail. Cheating would be easy to explain. Why she spent multiple weeknights as the Hardy boys' go-to gal was a bit harder to pin down, and she was a bit afraid to figure out the reason herself. So instead, she hunched in the back of the rusted blue van that had seen far better years and pretended like this was something that normal girls did. Then again, Nancy had never fit very well into that "normal girl" mold.
"I'll be home in a few hours, tops," she insisted. On the other end of the receiver, Ned led out a frustrated huff of a sigh.
"Nance, this is the fourth time this week," he reminded her. "Even you can't work that hard." He sounded beyond frustrated, but it wasn't like she had any room to blame him. Nancy bit her lip, brows furrowing in thought. She had barely even started to open her mouth to reply when Frank poked her in the side, finger on lips.
"Gotta go," she mumbled, snapping the phone closed. Frank was peering out the window of the car through his binoculars, and Nancy crouched down in the passenger's seat. "What's up?" she asked.
"He's coming down the driveway," Frank responded. "I thought he spotted us for a second there, but he's just getting his mail." He laid down the binoculars and scooted down to Nancy's level, turning to grin at her. "Only two hours to go, Drew. You still up to it?" She returned the grin with gusto.
"Come on, Hardy - I'm always ready. You should know that by now." She thumbed her phone into silent mode and jammed it into her front pocket. Frank watched her do so, looking like he wanted to say something, but he didn't. Her situation with Ned, as his with Callie, was a no-parking zone in their relationship, whatever it was. Nancy fidgeted in her seat, then employed her usual tactic of diverting the conversation. "We need to bring your brother along next time," she teased. "Stakeouts are never boring with Joe along." Frank rolled his eyes.
"Stakeouts are never boring with Joe because Joe gets impatient and we have to bail him out, usually leading to us all ending up within an inch of our lives." Nancy shrugged.
"Yeah, but it's never boring," she persisted. Frank chuckled softly, the shadow of his dimple standing out in the moonlit car.
"Are you accusing me of being boring?" he inquired. Nancy shrugged again, her grin impish, and Frank was tempted to find alternate ways of wiping the smirk right off of her face. But that was a common urge where Nancy was concerned, and he had learned long ago that the hope of ever shutting her up was slim to none. Then again, her bossiness and nosiness were the qualities he admired most in her. "Tell me," he continued. "How exactly can I make this stakeout meet your requirements?"
Nancy never got a chance to answer, because when she glanced up Josh Larkin was standing at the window of the Hardys' van glaring down at them. She shouted in alarm, and Frank glanced over his shoulder to spot the target of their stakeout. He fumbled for a moment with the keys in the ignition, just long enough for Nancy to see that Larkin had a baseball bat cradled in his right hand, which he was slowly lifting.
"Step on it, Hardy!" she exclaimed. As if on cue, the van roared to life, and the tires made an unholy scream as they peeled away from the curb. "Head for the drop point, his partner may already be there," she suggested. Frank immediately swung the vehicle into a sharp left, heading down towards Seneca Boulevard. Seatbelt still unbuckled, Nancy lurched in her seat, and she clutched at Frank's arm to keep herself upright. Seneca led them straight past the warehouse district and down to the lakefront, where a red Mustang was pulling out of the parking lot. Nancy scanned the lot as quickly as she could. Even driving, Frank noticed at the same time she did.
"That's Sarah!" Frank's client was standing under a streetlamp, motioning them towards the car. She didn't appear at all distressed.
"He must have made the drop already," Nancy deducted. "Which means we've got all the evidence we need, even without Hardin."
"So all that's left to do is take this guy down," Frank concluded. "We can take Harcourt, cut him off at the pass." He swung a left, then another, shooting down the street until he was right at the merging points of the two roads.
"Turn off your headlights," Nancy said. Frank complied, and they eased into position right at the fork. Sure enough, the Mustang's lights were visible from a good quarter-mile away, while they remained hidden. "Wait for it," Nancy muttered. "Wait for it, wait for it...NOW!"
Frank gunned the engine. The rickety old van let out a squeal of protest, but leapt into action once again. They jumped out in front of the Mustang at the last minute, then dodged out of the way, sending it fishtailing off of the road. The back passenger's side tire caught the edge of the pavement, and the whole back end of the car lodged itself into the ditch. Larkin's partner revved his engine several times, but the tires just spun uselessly. Frank let out a whoop and held his hand out for a high-five which was quickly reciprocated.
"That's my girl!" he shouted excitedly, grinning almost manically. He was bouncing up and down in his seat and Nancy watched him fondly. He could have been talking about her or the car, but as his fingers tightened around hers and the adrenaline letdown spiraled into the pit of her stomach, she found that she didn't much care which.