Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. I do not get any money from this. Some may wonder why I do it. I know I do.
A/N: Greetings, my darlings! Has my absence made your hearts grow fonder? Did you miss me terribly? Stay awake at night dreaming of my clever wit and overuse of the oh-so-wonderful ellipsis? I bet you did. Well. I wish. Anyways.
What you are currently looking at, angels, is a brand new story in a brand new AU. Aren't you lucky?
Seriously, though, I'm about four chapters into it and busy busy busy so I'm not sure if I want to continue. But perhaps you guys can persuade me...?
BTW, this is definatly rated T. Don't think I'm joking, young ones. I'm not. BUT it is not pushing M. I don't go there. At least, not in front of people. Also…if you don't like this story…don't read it. Just sayin'.
(Frank/Nancy-24; Joe-23.)
Enjoy:
Joe Hardy stared at the ceiling. As far as ceilings went, it was a pretty nice one. Pure white, none of that weird, speckled stuff. The only downside was that he had been looking at it for the past hour and a half.
Rolling over, he stared at the alarm clock on his bedside table. The glowing red numbers told him that it was 5:10 a.m. It was Saturday.
It was 5:10 on a Saturday morning.
Why was he up?
Truthfully, he didn't know. He just had this feeling stirring in his stomach, this feeling of adrenaline pumping through his veins. It was like his body was telling him that he was supposed to be up and doing something, not wasting away in bed. He mentally went through a checklist in his head, trying to figure out if there was something he had forgotten to do, but it really didn't feel the same as the I-forgot-oh-shit-oh-shit! feeling.
Joe rolled over again and stared at the girl beside him. His girlfriend, Vanessa Bender, was sleeping peacefully, her face barely peeking out from behind a curtain of messy bed-head. He smiled a little and softly brushed away the strands of hair. She stirred slightly and sighed, making Joe's smile even bigger. However, watching her sleep just made him feel more awake.
Slowly, quietly, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and crept out of the room and into the bathroom. He turned on the shower and, after waiting a moment for the water to heat up (more like four minutes—the apartment complex they lived in was really old), he stepped under the steady (somewhat) stream of water. But even after a solid half an hour, he couldn't wash away the jumpy feeling he had. Sighing, he turned off the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist and snuck back into their bedroom so he could get dressed.
Since his departure, Vanessa had unfurled and stretched all the way across the bed, her 5'11" frame taking up almost the whole mattress. Joe grinned when he noticed and pulled on his jeans quietly before walking out into the living room and closing the door behind him.
He shuffled his way into the kitchen, the light streaming in through the windows barely enough to light the room. He contemplated turning on a light, but decided against it. In a few minutes, he'd be hunched over his work and would soon forget all about it.
He went through the motions of making coffee before pouring a considerable amount of cereal into a mixing bowl. Vanessa hated it when he did that, but it didn't stop him. After all, he was a growing boy and he needed his energy.
Joe fell backwards onto the couch and looked around for the remote. Groaning, he realized that it was on the coffee table, just out of reach. Instead of reaching for it, though, he put his feet up on the table and pulled the remote towards him. Using only his toes, he pushed the power button and the screen came to life. Noise blasted through the apartment and he hurried to turn down the volume. When he deemed it quiet enough, he flicked through the channels and finally landed on the Cartoon Network.
Joe grinned to himself and settled back, eating his cereal in big bites. He couldn't remember a single Saturday morning that hadn't been occupied by cartoons. It was a Saturday morning tradition and he wasn't about to stop anytime soon.
Looking down, Joe saw that the mixing bowl was empty and when he looked back up, he saw that an hour had passed. With a sigh, he turned the TV off and turned towards his desk, where stacks of folders and papers awaited him, piled neatly beside a pile of dull pencils and inkless pens. He brought his dishes to the kitchen and placed them in the sink before walking over to the desk.
He stood in front of the desk for a minute, just staring at all the work that was to be done, slowly building up the resolve he needed to finish it.
Finally, he pulled back the chair and sat down. And with a sigh and the jumpy feeling still rushing through his body, he bent his head over his paper and focused.
"Guuh."
"Morning, beautiful," Joe spun around his chair to face Vanessa. It was 10:19 a.m. and she had just woken up. He grinned as he took her in, from her messy, wavy blonde hair to her sleepy grey eyes to her flannel pajama bottoms and tank top.
"Ha ha," Vanessa grumbled, shuffling across the room and landing in his lap. Joe immediately wrapped his arms around her and she tucked her chin into his chest. He buried his nose in her long, sweet smelling hair and planted a kiss to the top of her head.
"I'm not kidding," he murmured in her ear. "You're adorable."
"I'm not in the mood to be schmoozed," Vanessa told him, closing her eyes. "Come see me in about an hour."
"I'll be at work in an hour," he replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears. "And I want to schmooze you now."
"Dirty," Vanessa yawned, snuggling closer to Joe's chest. They had been dating for almost six years now and she was more comfortable with him than she was with her family. She didn't really know how to explain it, that feeling that made her feel like he could see right through everything she did and find the ulterior motive.
"I wish," Joe groaned, holding her tightly. "But Dad is being a dictator this week. We have a billion cases and he has Frank and I working double-time."
"Mean," Vanessa told him, finally opening her eyes and looking up at him. "I love your father and all, but he's keeping you away from me."
"Something will have to be done about him," Joe said solemnly.
"You've done enough detecting to stage the perfect murder, haven't you?" Vanessa questioned, wrapping her arms around Joe's neck. He grinned at her.
"They'll call us Leopold and Loeb," Joe replied, bending his neck so he could kiss her. She smiled into the kiss and after a moment they broke away, touching their foreheads together.
"Hi," Vanessa whispered, smiling. Joe smiled back.
"Hi," he whispered. "I kinda sorta like you."
"I'm quite fond of you, too," Vanessa murmured, kissing him again before untangling herself from him and standing up. She stretched, her fingers grazing the ceiling of the apartment they shared, and yawned again.
"Damn time changes," she sighed, walking towards the kitchen. Joe watched her retreating figure and grinned before turning back to his desk. Laid out in front of him were about seven case files, the contents of which were spilled all over the surface. He groaned inwardly and bent over the papers, staring hard as if the answers would jump out at him.
He and his brother Frank had been solving cases since childhood, but they had only joined their father's practice a few years ago. The work was more intense than what he was used to (petty theft and missing people), but he loved every minute of it, despite how often he complained. And his brother Frank loved it too, again, despite how often Joe complained. Over the past twenty-three years of Joe's life, Frank had learned how to deal with his brother; how to deal with all of his ramblings and complaints. Everyone who met them said it; they had never seen brothers with a bond as strong as Frank and Joe's.
"How long have you been up?" Vanessa called from the kitchen, pulling Joe away from his work again. He glanced up at the clock on the wall behind him and grimaced.
"About five hours," Joe whined, running a hand through his blond hair.
"I'm so sorry," Vanessa gasped from the kitchen. "Have you at least had some coffee?"
"Only about seventeen cups," Joe called out to her, twirling a pen between his fingers. "Which I will regret once I have to go to the bathroom seventeen times."
"Poor baby," Vanessa consoled and Joe grinned, standing up and stretching. He relished in the feeling for a moment before shuffling into the kitchen and leaning against the wall. Vanessa was standing in front of the kitchen sink, standing on her tip-toes to grab a mug from the cupboard despite being far tall enough to reach. Joe couldn't grin at how undeniably cute she looked, sleepy and sexy all at the same time. He knew how lucky he was to have Vanessa in his life and he would never, ever take her for granted. He learned that particular lesson after the death of his girlfriend Iola.
He had literally let her slip through his fingers; let her walk straight into her death. He would never forgive himself for letting her go alone, or letting her go at all. Instead, he focused all his energy on Vanessa, as if trying to prove to Iola that he was sorry for not protecting her and that it would never happen again.
Vanessa pulled the mug down and Joe stepped in behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his head on her shoulder. Vanessa set the mug down on the counter and spun around so they were face to face. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a deep kiss. Joe smiled into the kiss and pulled her flush against him.
No more than a few minutes could have passed before the phone rang. Joe groaned and pulled away, resting his forehead against Vanessa's.
"The price of being popular," he moaned, giving her another quick kiss. "I'll get it." She nodded and kissed him back.
"Good," she replied, "because I haven't had my coffee yet and no one is safe. Except you."
He winked at her and crossed the living room towards the phone.
"Hello?" he answered, leaning against the wall. He listened carefully to what the person on the other side was saying and he could literally feel the blood rushing out of his cheeks. He slid to the floor, the phone still pressed to his ear, in shock. "You're lying. No. No, that can't be true."
He wasn't even horrified when he felt tears slipping down his cheeks. He hung his head and let them flow freely.
"Joe?" Vanessa called from the kitchen, peering around the corner and dropping her mug when she saw her boyfriend huddled on the floor. "Oh, my God! What's the matter?"
Joe shook his head fiercely, wiping his eyes on his sleeves.
"Joe, sweetie?" Vanessa whispered, her lip trembling. She reached out cautiously and wrapped her arms around his neck.
"Get the newspaper," Joe hiccupped into her neck. "Please."
"What's wrong?" She demanded gently. "Joe, you're scaring me."
"Please get the paper," he whispered and she obliged nervously, sliding the dead bolt and unlocking the front door. She poked her head outside and picked the newspaper off of the front mat before returning to where he was and sitting cross-legged in front of him.
He practically ripped it from her hands, the phone dropping to the floor. He tore through the pages quickly before stopping. Tears splattered against the paper and the ink ran slightly. Joe shoved the paper towards his girlfriend and picked the phone back up.
Vanessa stared at the words in front of her, not understanding why Joe was so upset. Suddenly, a name caught her eye.
"Oh, Joe…"
Frank Hardy stirred in his sleep, pulling the covers up towards his chin. He could have sworn he felt something poke him in his side, but he ignored it and focused on sleep (sweet, sweet sleep) instead.
The poking persisted and he groaned, rolling over and wrenching his eyelids apart. To his great surprise (and utter mortification—had he snored? Drooled? Talked in his sleep?), Nancy Drew was standing beside his bed and leaning towards him. Her strawberry blonde hair was falling messily in her face and her blue eyes gleaming.
"Nan?" he croaked, sitting up and wincing as the sheets fell down and exposed his bare chest to the drafty air in his hotel room. "You okay?"
"I'm fine," she told him, tucking her hair behind her ears. Frank nodded and leaned back against the headboard, slightly dazed with sleep. She waited patiently for him to respond, but instead he let his head droop to the side, making Nancy sigh. She poked him in the chest and his eyes flew open at the sensation her fingers on his skin caused.
"Then what are you doing here?" he asked finally, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He kept his voice down as to not wake up his brother Joe, who was asleep in the next bed.
"I'm feeling mischievous," she admitted and motioned for him to scoot over. When he did, she sat down next to him and pulled her knees up to her chest. "I feel like breaking some rules."
"You feel like breaking some rules?" he whispered incredulously. "You feel like breaking some rules? You feel like breaking some rules?"
"Yes," she rolled her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair, making it even messier than it already was. Frank looked at her curiously. She was just sitting there, in nothing but an oversized t-shirt and a pair of fuzzy ankle socks. Her skin was glowing in the pale blue light coming from the windows and the red in her hair seemed more pronounced. Her face was clean of makeup, save for a trace of mascara that she couldn't get off before she went to bed. Despite himself, Frank couldn't help but think she was beautiful. Not that he had never thought that before. He had always known that Nancy was a beautiful, beautiful girl but suddenly his whole mind and body was thinking it; his entire being was consumed with her overwhelming beauty.
"Why?" Frank asked, dumbfounded. "You love rules. Rules love you. You and rules have had quite a happy relationship before now."
"I don't know," Nancy admitted, falling backwards against the headboard and stretching her legs out in front of her. Frank followed the movement with his eyes and took a deep breath to compose himself. "I was just lying in my bed, thinking, and suddenly it struck me. I've never broken a rule. I've never done anything crazy or wild in my life."
"That's not true," Frank snorted. "You've saved lives. You've captured criminals. You've been kidnapped. That's not what I call tame."
"That's not what I mean," Nancy persisted. "I mean, I'll always have a great story to tell but will I ever get to tell my kids about that one time I got so hammered I couldn't walk? Or the night that I stayed out so late that I had to climb in through my bedroom window? No. I'll get to tell them I had good grades, a nice boyfriend, great friends and, as a past-time, I occasionally put people in jail. They won't learn anything from any of that! They'll just think, 'Gee, Mom was a loser. I don't want to be anything like her.'"
"So…" Frank rubbed his eyes. "You want to break a rule…for the sake of your future children?"
"Yes," Nancy said solemnly. "I want them to know that their mother was more than just a law-abiding, helpful citizen."
"But that's who you are," Frank pointed out with a grin. "You can't change who you are, Nance."
"I know," she told him, tucking back her hair as it fell towards her eyes. "But I…I don't know. Just…stop questioning me. Do something crazy with me."
Frank felt his heart start hammering in his chest. "Like what?"
"I don't know," Nancy admitted. "But something!" She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, stretching her arms up over her head. Frank rested his eyes on her legs shamelessly (it was two a.m., okay?) and pushed back the covers.
"I'll be right back," Nancy told him, disappearing through the door in their adjoining rooms. "Get dressed!"
Frank nodded numbly, his body moving mechanically as he pulled on yesterday's jeans and t-shirt. He sat back down on his bed so he could pull on his shoes and then ran a hand through his hair.
He was about to do something crazy with Nancy. Nancy, one of his best friends. Not his girlfriend.
The thought made his head shoot up. Nancy was not his girlfriend. What was he doing?
You're helping out a friend, the voice in his head told him. Frank rolled his eyes and rested his head in the palms of his head.
Almost as long as he had known Nancy, she had had Ned and he had had Callie. They had always been in relationships. There had never been a time when they had both been single and willing to give it a shot. They both acknowledged that the bond between them was different—somehow more special and easy than any other bond they had. But there had always been those factors: Callie and Ned.
And now, while a part of him (a HUGE part) wanted so badly to go with Nancy, to just grab her hand and run with her and do whatever she wanted to do, another part (smaller, but more rational) told him that no, he could not just run away and break rules with someone who was not his girlfriend.
Frank glanced over at his brother, sleeping in a way that occupied most of the bed and his blond hair sticking up as if he had been electrocuted. He briefly toyed with the idea of waking him up and bringing him along as a chaperone, but decide quickly against it when Nancy reappeared, a pair of shorts covering her legs and her t-shirt rolled up to normal length.
"Ready?" she whispered, looking directly into his eyes in a way that made his heart leap and his stomach groan with uneasiness.
"Ready," he nodded, grabbing his key card off of the bedside table and putting it in his pocket. He followed Nancy as she opened the door to the small, drafty hotel room and walked into the hall. He shut the door as quietly as he could behind him but the miniscule creaking noise made him wince.
"Where are we going?" he asked Nancy, who had begun walking towards the elevator. "Do we need money? Because I left mine in the room and-."
"No, we don't need money," Nancy told him with a grin. "The whole point of this is to be bad."
"So…are we gonna pull a Thelma and Louise?" Frank questioned, furrowing his brow.
"Maybe," Nancy shrugged, pressing the 'G' button on the panel. "Maybe not."
"Intrigue," Frank replied, raising his eyebrows. "You really don't have a plan, do you?"
"Nope," Nancy replied, looking up at him. "I haven't thought a single thing through. I haven't even decided if I really wanted to get in this elevator."
"Huh," Frank nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Nancy may not have been thinking, but Frank's mind was working in overdrive. A million thoughts were running through his head. Where were they going? What were they going to do? Why did Nancy ask them? Why didn't she bring up Joe? Did this mean something? What?
The elevator ping-ed as it came to a stop on the first floor and the pair cautiously got out. The lobby was around the corner and there was sure to be someone at the desk.
"What now?" Frank mouthed, poking Nancy in the shoulder. She looked around, studying her surroundings before her face lit up and she grabbed his hand, dragging him down the hallway leading away from the lobby.
"Where are we going?" Frank mumbled, skidding to a sudden stop. Nancy had lead him to the door to the pool area.
"We're going swimming," Nancy replied cheerfully. She looked around the hallway and attempted to see through the tinted windows around the door to the pool, but it was too dark.
"But the pool is closed," Frank pointed out. "Swimming hours are from nine to…oh."
"Oh indeed," Nancy smirked, leaning down in front of the lock. She examined it carefully; it was a lock door and you had to get the key from the front desk if you wanted to use the pool. "Can you pick it?" she asked, looking up at him. Frank shrugged and knelt down beside her, staring intently at the lock.
"I think so," Frank responded. "Do you have a bobby pin or something?"
Nancy ran her fingers through her hair and came out with the pin that had been holding her bangs away from her face. They immediately swung towards her eyes and she batted them away with an impatient hand.
Frank stuck the pin into the lock and wiggled it around. He could feel Nancy watching him and tried his best to open the door quickly. Every nerve in his body was screaming for him to stop—it was against the rules, after all. What if they got kicked out of the hotel? Or the police came? He doubted they would, but the worrying part of his brain wouldn't listen and instead focused on spitting out unlikely scenarios that could befall them.
Suddenly, the lock turned with a click and Nancy gave a little wiggle of excitement. "Nice work," she told him, getting to her feet and gracefully sashaying into the pool area. Frank followed slowly, making sure the door closed silently and was securely locked.
The pool at the hotel they were staying at was nice, as far as hotel pools go. It was long and deep, with two diving boards at the far end. The area surrounding it was littered with chairs and tables. There were pictures of jaunty little fish on the fall, smiling as they swam. Frank rolled his eyes at the décor before turning his attention back towards the pool.
"So," Nancy grinned, staring at him. "Here is our dangerous, rule breaking pool. Nice, right? Not so bad that we'll get in major trouble, but still a story."
"Indeed it is," Frank nodded, a thought suddenly distracting him. He was about to get in the pool. With Nancy. He did not have a bathing suit.
"So," she said and Frank cut in.
"Nan, I don't have my bathing suit," Frank told her. "I didn't even think to pack one; I thought we'd be too busy with the case."
In response, Nancy gave him a small, nervous smile. Suddenly, to Frank's great shock and awe, she began to wiggle out of her shorts. Then, with a deep breath, she raised her arms up in the air and pulled her shirt over her head. And then, she just stood there. Nancy Drew, one of Frank's best friends, had just stripped off her clothing in front of him and was now simply standing there in a pair of dark blue underwear and a pink bra.
He couldn't even say anything. Frank's mouth dried up and, though he wished he could, he couldn't pull his eyes away from her. He felt like a dirty, cheating pig but he knew that he would never see this again. Nancy Drew. In her underwear. And they were alone.
With a big smile and a deep breath, Nancy walked towards the edge of the pool and Frank's eyes were glued on her the whole time. His whole body was shaking in an effort not to fall apart in front of her. He closed his eyes for a moment, and the next thing he knew he heard a splash. Opening his eyes, he saw Nancy submerged in water.
She surfaced and pushed her hair back, grinning widely at him. "Are you coming in?" she called quietly, her voice bouncing off of the walls.
Frank thought intensely. On one side, he had Callie. He had this whole, stable relationship with a great, pretty, smart girl that he cared about deeply. But on the other side…there was Nancy. A girl he that had known forever, who matched his every move and made him feel whole.
"Frank?" she called out, her smile wavering a bit.
Everything she had said about following the rules, not having a lesson or a good memory, it was true for Frank, too. He knew that Joe did crazy stuff like this all the time, but he never had. He had never really seen any point until Nancy came up with one. It may not have been the strongest point, but it was true. And it was a rush, thinking about it. He was about to jump into a pool, in his underwear, with a girl who was not his girlfriend.
Without a second thought, Frank pulled his t-shirt over his head, very aware that Nancy's eyes were watching him do so. He slipped out of his jeans and walked to the far side of the pool.
He climbed up the ladder to the diving board and stood at the top for a moment. Waiting below him was Nancy. Waiting at home was Callie.
Don't do it! His rational brain cried.
He dove in headfirst.
When he surfaced, he came face to face with Nancy. She gave him a huge smile and swam a little closer to him.
Uh oh, he thought as she swam closer. His mind was blurring around the edges and soon he couldn't be held responsible for his actions. In a move of pure desperation, he splashed a tidal wave of water towards her. She blinked and laughed before splashing him back. Within seconds it had become a full on splash war and they were biting their lips to keep from laughing too loudly.
But as suddenly as it started, it ended and they were face to face again, breathing heavily.
Frank's stomach was twisting in knots. They were swimming around each other now, unconsciously getting closer and closer as they did. He thought his heart would burst from him chest when she slowly, tentatively raised her hand and placed it on his chest. Their feet bumped together and Frank felt like every nerve in his body was on fire. Unthinkingly, he had put his hand on her waist and nearly died at the feeling of her skin curving under his.
Suddenly, their faces were very close together. Nancy's breath was warm on his wet skin and he felt his eyelashes flutter.
"Kiss me," she whispered. "Just…kiss m-."
Before she even finished her sentence, his lips were on hers.
Frank woke with a start, a cold sweat glistening on his skin. He hadn't dreamt of that night in ages, so why was he thinking of it now? It had to have been five years ago, but the memory—the feeling, the emotions—was fresh in his mind, as if it had happened yesterday.
He slapped a hand on the alarm clock next to him and successfully silenced the voice of Bayport's most annoying morning radio DJ.
He ran a hand through his dark brown hair and turned over to look at his fiancée, who was stretching her arms over her head and yawning.
"Morning, hon," she smiled, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. "Do you want the bathroom first?"
"Uh, yeah," he replied, dazed. He wiped the sleep out of his eyes and pushed the sheets off of his legs and standing up. He had a jumpy feeling running through him. At first, Frank thought it was just from being caught off guard with the dream, but it wasn't a feeling that he had ever experienced before.
Ignoring it, he stumbled towards the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He turned on the shower and jumped in, letting the hot water rush over his skin. Frank sighed and closed his eyes, remembering the dream. A small smile came to his face and bit his lip to keep it from growing.
When he had finished showering and getting dressed, he walked slowly down the stairs, still feeling like he was rushed up on adrenaline. He crossed the living room and turned into the kitchen.
Callie was standing over the stove, her old bathrobe wrapped around her t-shirt and pajama shorts. Her feet were stuffed into a pair of blue slippers and her blonde hair was tied up in a messy ponytail.
"Coffee?" she asked, not looking up from the pancake she was flipping.
"Not today," Frank told her, walking around her to get a mug from the cupboard. "Tea, I think. I'm feeling kind of jumpy."
"Oh, yeah?" she replied, handing him a plate with a stack of pancakes on it. Staring at her, he put both the mug and the plate on the counter and gently put his hands on her face, pulling her up towards him so he could kiss her. He still felt so guilty about that night and dreaming about it made him feel like he had been cheating on her all over again.
You didn't cheat on her, Frank told himself sternly. Not really, anyways.
Callie wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed him back, smiling into his lips.
"Well," she grinned. "Good morning, indeed." Frank smiled at her and kissed her again. When they broke away, he grabbed her hands and held them.
"I'm going to burn the pancakes," she grinned.
"That's okay," Frank told her. "You already gave me mine."
"Very funny," she told him, rolling her eyes and giving him one last kiss before turning her attention back towards the stove. Frank watched her for a moment with a small smile on his face before picking up his cup and plate and heading towards the kitchen table. He filled his cup with water and added a teabag before putting it in the microwave, taking it out after a minute and heading back to the table.
"What time do you have to go in to work today?" Callie asked, looking over her shoulder. Frank shrugged and took a bite of his pancake.
"Around eleven-thirty," he replied, taking a sip of his tea. "Twelve-ish."
"Okay," Callie nodded. "Well, I think Vanessa and I are going to go look at invitation around eleven forty-five, but that probably means twelve-thirty. I doubt she's even up yet."
Frank snorted into his cup and looked at the clock. "Well, I wouldn't say that. I mean, it's nine thirty. She's probably done her cleaning, is just coming back from her morning jog and is on her way to the grocery store."
"That Vanessa," Callie sighed, turning off the stove and bringing her own plate to the table. "I wish she'd slow down and learn how to relax."
"She's going to kill herself," Frank agreed with a smirk. Callie cut into her pancakes and he smiled at her again.
"What?" Callie asked through a mouthful of food. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?"
"It's just that," he leaned in close to her, "I haven't told you that I love you today. And you didn't notice."
Callie rolled her eyes and took a sip from Frank's cup. "You're sappy today."
"I love you," Frank told her solemnly.
"This isn't a rom-com, Frank," Callie scolded him. "You're gonna make me puke."
"You're just so beautiful," he sighed, resting his head on the palm of his hand. "I've written several sonnets about you since walking in."
"And all of them start with 'roses are red; violets are blue'," Callie teased, taking another bite.
"You get me." Frank shook his head. "You really, really get me."
"Or maybe I just love you, too," she smiled, leaning in to kiss him. "Now stop being creepy so I can enjoy my breakfast."
"Will do," Frank nodded, grinning. They sat in silence for a moment, just eating their breakfast, when the phone suddenly rang. Frank put down his fork with a sigh.
"I'll get it," he told Callie, rising to his feet and dashing into the living room to look for the cordless phone. When he finally located it (couch) he leaned against the closest wall and hit 'talk'.
"Hello?" he answered, running a hand through his hair. As the person on the other end spoke, Frank's stomach turned. He was quite positive he was going to be sick at any minute, but his stomach just kept rolling to the point where he sunk to the floor clutching it. "No. That's not true. She can't be…!"
He wished he could cry so badly at the moment, but his eyes seemed unfairly dry. His body felt devoid of energy, just empty and hollow.
"Frank?" Callie called from the kitchen. "Who is it?"
Frank opened his mouth to reply, but no sound left his mouth.
"Honey?" Callie turned the corner and saw Frank sitting on the floor, his mouth wide and his knees against his chest and ran over, dropping down next to him.
"What's wrong?" she asked urgently. "Frank, talk to me."
"It's…" Frank couldn't speak. His head ached and his heart pounded dully, like it didn't care whether he lived or not anymore. He grasped at the wall above him and pulled himself up slowly, before absolutely running to the front door and throwing it open.
Lying on the welcome mat, as always, was a copy of the Bayport Gazette. It was wrapped neatly with an elastic band folded carefully around it and Frank picked it up with trembling hands.
He pulled the elastic so tightly that it snapped in half, but he didn't care. He fumbled with the pages and tore through them until he came to a big, full page spread.
"Frank, you're scaring me," Callie told him, coming up behind him and putting a hand on his shoulder. When he looked at her, her eyes were filled with tears but he couldn't even comfort her. With his head still spinning, he shoved the paper towards her and sank back against the front door.
Callie stared at him for a moment before looking at the page in front of her. Her mouth dropped suddenly and her eye filled even further.
'GIRL DETECTIVE KILLED IN DRIVE-BY SHOOTING,' the headline read. 'World renowned sleuth Nancy Drew was killed in her home yesterday, at approximately 5:12 pm…'
A/N: Ta-DAAAH. I hope you liked it. It's somewhat OC, yes, but oh well. It's hard to NOT write OC. Also. Ahem. Should I continue?
Reviews? Please? Begging is not beneath me.