It was too late in the evening to do anything but sit down and wait for the loneliness to go away. He stumbled his way to the nearest couch, cursing himself for not being able to walk straight. He was surrounded by people; dancing, laughing, enjoying themselves…
He didn't like parties. Parties were for people to laugh and dance and engage in mindless socialization. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find it within himself to be "that guy." You know, the one who can't help but draw people in. Someone who, after having had a few drinks, can lose all of their inhibitions and be free of their own mind.
Frank's brother was "that guy", though, and after somehow convincing Frank to attend a local party with him, Joe had parted ways to go dance with his latest fling, and Frank found himself alone with a bottle of red wine. That had been two or three hours ago. Taking another swig of Merlot, he realized that the room seemed dimmer, less clear.
He remembered what Joe had told him before they left. "C'mon, Frank, you'll have a great time! Nancy will be there."
Frank leaned back, looking for a familiar head of strawberry-blonde hair. He had yet to catch a glimpse of her, and he would be lying if he said that he wasn't disappointed. It was hard to see much of anything, actually. The lights were off, with the exception of a few candles and ceiling lamps near the bar. Where was he? A nightclub? A lounge?
A sudden realization popped into his alcohol-ridden brain, but it almost seemed to escape before he could capture it. He shook his head, bewildered and dazed.
Where had he seen this room before?
There were other people on the couch now. Couples with their hands traveling down each other's backs and towards the backs of their necks. It was another reminder of his own loneliness. Frank sighed, closing his eyes. What would he give to be somewhere—anywhere—else? Running his free hand through his hair and finishing off the wine with the other, Frank's eyes opened and began to roam the room until they landed on a black coat. Not just any black coat, but one that he had seen before, one that he'd helped pick out as a joint Christmas present from himself and Joe. It was dark, and for a second he thought that he'd imagined it, but there she was: the reason he'd decided to come in the first place.
Nancy wasn't usually a party person, either, if Frank could remember correctly. She was always busy with more practical things, such as a case. She was like Frank, in that sense. He smiled a sort of crooked grin and hoped that she'd turn around and see him.
As if on cue, Nancy looked over her shoulder and met his gaze with her own.
Maybe it was the haze of red wine, but she looked like a fever dream. In the dim light, she walked towards him. Her red hair created a sort of halo around her pale face, like an angel sent to Earth.
Frank didn't believe in angels, and neither did Nancy, but heaven be damned if she didn't appear to him as some sort of miracle. He tried to smile, without much success. Despite this, she returned the favor, her eyes squinting and crinkling a bit as she did so. It wasn't her usual smile: polite, reserved, but still confident. It was off-kilter, too big for her face.
As she sat next to him, Frank could tell that she wasn't completely sober, either. She smelled faintly of Amaretto, and he saw that her lipstick was smudged a bit at the edges. He leaned in unconsciously, just enough to greet her over the loud music.
"H-how are you, Nan?" He stuttered, not out of nervousness, but because he was beginning to have trouble forming the words in his mouth.
She gazed at him for a moment before answering. "I'm doing well, I guess. I've been feeling a bit…stressed lately, so I thought I'd…" she seemed to lose her sentence somewhere along the way, but Frank just nodded. The couch had cleared for them, the couples leaving for a more private location. They had all the room in the world, yet Frank couldn't bring himself to move away. Nancy made no effort to scoot over, either, so the two of them just sat shoulder-to-shoulder. The air around them felt different than the rest of the room, as if they were in their own bubble. Frank felt his heart begin to beat a little faster, but he quickly assumed that was because of the alcohol. He hadn't been this drunk in a long time.
They sat in silence for a minute or so, before Nancy began to speak again. "Bess thinks I've been working too hard."
Frank laughed, rubbing his sweaty palms along the tops of his knees. "Joe has been saying the same thing about me."
"They're probably right," she muttered, turning her legs and shoulders towards him. He did the same, until they were both leaning slightly towards each other. It was easier to talk this way. Her eyes bore into his, waiting for him to respond.
Making eye contact never used to be hard, but this time, a small lump began to form in the back of Frank's throat. He broke away from her gaze, setting the empty bottle of wine in between their legs. For some reason, he wasn't brave enough to keep looking at her for more than a few seconds. "Yeah."
Like a delayed reflex, Nancy waited a moment before chuckling. Frank darted his eyes back towards her. He had never seen her like this, and he wasn't sure what to think of it. He sort of liked it when she was more relaxed, like she was now. She no longer let her inhibitions stop her from having fun. Most of his encounters with the detective had been while on a case, and he wished that he had more opportunities to see her outside of work.
She looked around the room, smiling to herself as she watched people dance. "It's good to be back in Bayport."
He followed her line of sight, taking in the entire environment for the first time that night. Granted, it was hard to focus on more than one thing. He noticed an unlit chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and it finally clicked: he was in the latest project of Mayor Swanson, the newly-elected hedonist of a mayor who had a vision of Bayport becoming more "fun." Frank was surprised that he had forgotten about the Salon de la Nuit, along with its widely publicized grand opening, which he had attended with his father and Joe. No wonder this room had seemed familiar.
"Yeah, it's uh…" Frank swallowed, trying to clear his head a bit. "It's great to see you." His words were slightly slurred, and he felt the Merlot really start to kick in.
Nancy turned her face back towards him, giggling. "Thanks," she breathed. Frank felt a shiver run up his spine, suddenly exhilarated by their close proximity to one another. "It's nice to see you, too. You have no idea how long I've been waiting to see you and Joe again…it's been so long."
Frank nodded, feeling a bit like a bobble head. His palms were still sweaty, and the lump in his throat wouldn't go away. He had always thought that Nancy was pretty, but tonight she looked different. She looked…
Radiant.
"I don't usually like going to places like these, but I—" She looked up at him, contemplating something. "I wasn't even looking forward to coming until Bess told me this place was in Bayport."
Frank's heart seemed to beat twice as hard, and he rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of what to say. "Oh."
What was the matter with him?
Nancy didn't seem to notice the change in Frank's behavior. Instead, she leaned back into the couch, closed her eyes, and listened to the music. Frank couldn't help but stare at her. She looked so complete, sitting there next to him. She was beautiful; it didn't take a fool to notice that. He gulped, unable to understand why he couldn't look away from the girl that he'd known for years. Her face had been in his dreams before, but that was because he had just been working with her at the time, right? There was no other reason for him to be dreaming of the two of them in Hawaii again. He hadn't been able to make sense of it. He still couldn't, unless…
He turned away, but his sleeve caught on her coat. Shit. Nancy opened her eyes, and Frank attempted to make a slurred apology.
She only smiled again, warm and dazed, caught up in the atmosphere. "Oh, no. It's fine."
Frank readjusted himself, his face hot and his breathing shallow. He wanted to touch her again. Her skin was glowing, even in the darkness. Frank closed his eyes, frustrated because he was thinking in fragments, rather than logically. It had to be the alcohol that was doing this to him. They would both be different when they were sober; back to normal. When she was intoxicated like this, she was a fruity rum. She left a sweet taste in your mouth, and she made you feel good, even though you knew that if you indulged too much, you'd still wake up with a hangover.
The real Nancy wasn't predictable. She wouldn't fall into your arms or sit in your lap. She wasn't a fruity rum, she was a whiskey that burned your throat on the way down. She wasn't sweet, but she made you feel alive.
He wondered if she would ever be his. Didn't she need him? Didn't she notice him? He knew that he could only take her one day at a time, or else she would run away. She couldn't be held down. She stayed with Ned for stability, and that was something that Frank couldn't give her. He must wait, hoping and praying that she'll change her mind about him.
He wanted her now, though. Waiting would be agonizing. He opened his eyes, watching the room spin around him. As he moved his hand towards the empty wine bottle at his feet, he accidentally brushed her leg with his hand. Her skin was warm to the touch, and he wasn't sure if his fingers were burning because of the heat or because of its source. He straightened his back and jerked his hand back. He was bewildered at his own thoughts, at his own feelings…
Nancy tucked another piece of hair behind her ear, unaware of it all. Frank wasn't even sure of it himself, what this feeling was. It welled up in him, sloshing around in his stomach, threatening to come up his throat in the form of words. He choked them down. He leaned back into the couch, hands on his thighs, foot tapping anxiously.
Nancy opened her mouth slightly, once again turning towards him. She was sort of smiling, sort of lost in thought. Frank wondered what she was thinking about. He hoped beyond hope that it was similar to his own stream of consciousness, even though he knew that was just wishful thinking.
She leaned in closer, opening her eyes. In one second she changed his world. Sighing, she whispered into his ear, "Isn't this the strangest night you've ever had?"
In the haze of dim lights and red wine on a summer night, Frank froze. He finally figured out what all these, these feelings meant, and he cursed at himself for letting them take hold of him, especially with her, especially this bad.
He was falling for her. His heart sank, falling into a pit in his chest. This wasn't something he had planned, this wasn't how things were supposed to go…he was supposed to help her on cases. He was Frank Hardy, fellow detective and good friend. He wasn't, he could never be…
"You could say that." Frank mumbled a quick goodbye before standing up, stumbling away, searching for Joe. He needed to find his brother. He needed to go home.
He needed to sleep this off.
A/N: This was sort of a spur-of-the-moment thing, but once I started writing, I couldn't stop. I love this pairing, but I thought I'd go for a more realistic scenario and focus on Frank's unrequited feelings. I haven't decided when this takes place, so I guess that's up for interpretation. I know that Frank and Joe were described as "churchgoers" in the original series, but I sort of gave Frank (and Nancy) a different outlook, as I see them as more practical/science-based people in the modern series than spiritual people. But then again, that's my own personal opinion. Feel free to have your own take on their character.