Disclaimer: I don't own The Hardy Boys (Franklin W. Dixon) or Ain't Nothing 'Bout You (Brooks and Dunn), so please don't sue.
A/N: I wrote this because it is the only romance thing I would read and no one has written a story about these peeps. Well, maybe one person, whom I thank most deeply.
Note: Originally posted under name happychica.
Once
I thought that love was something I could never do
Never knew that
I could feel this much
But this yearning in the deep part of my
heart for you
Is more than a reaction to your touch
It's a
perfect passion and I can't get enough
Fenton Hardy was still watching the young woman across the room. He'd been to this bar many times during his career as a private investigator. Working with the NYC police department often required extra measures to unwind. Because of this, he knew all the regulars, as they him. But he'd never seen this girl here before. She looked slightly younger than him, with blonde hair and soft blue eyes that seemed to take in everything, including him. Fenton blinked, realizing the woman was watching him back. Slowly, she stood up and crossed the room, sitting across from him at the small table.
"Is there some reason you're watching me, Mr. Hardy?" Blushing, the young man looked down at his drink. Years of practice, and I still get caught. "Mr. Hardy?"
"Uh…" pausing, Fenton looked up. "I don't remember telling you my name."
"Well," replied the woman, "that might be because you haven't said anything. And I know your name because it was in the paper earlier this week, was it not?" The detective nodded. "There you go. Now please, kindly tell me why you were watching me." Fenton's blush returned.
"You're new."
"Beg pardon?"
"You don't usually come here," clarified the sleuth. "I was trying to figure out why someone like you would."
"Someone like me?" answered the woman skeptically.
"You seemed happy, you're not lower class, and you obviously aren't lonely, so why would you need to go to a bar? That, and there are very few women in general who do." The girl smiled.
"Mr. Hardy, would you like to dance?"
"What?"
"Would you like to dance?"
"Uh, sure, I guess. You can call me Fenton, if you like. I can't be that much older than you." The woman laughed; a light, bell-like sound that made the young man smile.
"Alright, Fenton, but you must call me Laura." Standing, the young couple walked out onto the dance floor. Fenton held out his hand.
"Shall we?"
The
way you look, the way you laugh,
The way you love with all you
have,
There ain't nothing bout you that don't do something for
me
The way you kiss, The way you cry,
The way you move when you
walk by
There's ain't nothing bout you (there ain't nothing bout
you)
That don't do something for me
Looking out the window of the church, Fenton reflected on the past few months. It had all gone by so quickly, and just now was he starting to wonder if he'd done the right thing. Proposing to Laura had seemed like a natural thing to do, but now…what if it was too soon? It was that or lose her for good supplied a small voice in his head. Fenton sighed. Was that really a good enough reason to get married? What if they weren't supposed to be? A knock on the door let him know it was time. Really too late to back out now said the voice, smirk evident through the simple phrase. Fenton took a deep breath and opened the door.
A few minutes later, when Laura had joined him at the alter, he knew it was the right thing.
In
my life I've been hammered by some heavy blows
That never knocked
my off my feet
All you gotta do is smile at me and down I go
And
baby it's no mystery why I surrender
Girl you got everything
Closing the front door softly, Fenton sagged against it. Today had been ridiculous. Aside from the horrendous traffic and numerous accidents, his boss was being a…a… Shaking his head, the detective gave up trying to think of a word that would fit his employer. Dropping his bag by the door, Fenton wondered across the small flat that housed him, his wife, and their young child, Frank. Cracking open his bedroom door, the young man couldn't help but smile. Curled up in the middle of their double bed was Laura, Frank tucked lovingly into her side. Silently, Fenton closed the door and made his way to the couch. He really didn't have the heart to disturb his treasures this late.
The
way you look, the way you laugh,
They way you love with all you
have,
There ain't nothing bout you that don't do something for
me
The way you kiss, the way you cry,
The way you move when you
walk by
There ain't nothing bout you (there ain't nothing bout
you)
That don't do something for me
"Wha's that?" Fenton chuckled softly at his son's question.
"'That' is your little brother, Frank."
"My little wha? Why do I need a little bwatha?" Curious brown eyes found his own as the small boy in his lap shifted nervously. "Don't you love me any mo?"
"Of course we love you, but that doesn't mean we can't give you a little brother." Frank though about this for a moment, then looked back up at his father.
"Can I name him?" Fenton smiled.
"Sure." Frank looked over at the small being in his sleeping mother's arms. The tiny creature stirred before opening brilliant blue eyes and looking at him. The two boys watched each other for a few moments. Frank finally broke their gaze to look back up at his father.
"Joe. His name is Joe." Fenton chuckled again.
"Alright, how about we call him Joseph? That way, you can call him Joe and he has a long name like you, too."
"OK!" Standing unsteadily on his father's lap, Frank leaned over and pulled himself onto his mother's bed. "Hi Joe!" The small boy stared at Frank for a moment, and then smiled, shrieking loudly. "I think he likes me!"
"I think so, too," murmured Fenton, watching his two sons interact. "I think so, too."
I
love your attitude, your rose tattoo, you every though
Your smile,
your lips, and girl the list goes on and on and on
When Joe was five, he had asked his father why he loved his mother so much. Now, twelve years later, Fenton watched his wife sleeping, thinking about what the small boy had asked. Smiling, the detective leaned over a kissed his wife's temple softly. He'd found an answer for his son, he just didn't know how to explain it.
The
way you look, the way you laugh,
They way you love with all you
have,
There ain't nothing bout you that don't do something for
me
The way you kiss, the way you cry,
The way you move when you
walk by
There ain't nothing bout you (there ain't nothing bout
you)
That don't do something for me
Wiping small tears from her eyes, Laura Hardy waved goodbye to her sons. Finally, they were both off to collage, though they promised to return. Laura remembered making that same promise to her mother, though when she'd come home, it had been many years later, and she'd brought a man, too. Smiling, Laura hoped her sons wouldn't wait quite as long as she had.
Stepping back into their house, Laura felt strong arms wrap around her, making her smile widen just a bit.
"It seems," murmured her husband, "that we are all alone."
"Seems so," agreed Laura, playing along. She could feel her husband's grin.
"And, as the bad guys of this state have decided to take the day off, it would appear we have some free time on our hands."
"It would," Laura was trying not to giggle. They'd had this conversation before, nearly nineteen years ago.
"So what shall we do?" Laura pretended to think about it.
"We could…go for a walk?" No response. "Or bake some cookies." Silence. "Or go to the movies. Or I suppose we could just stay home." Laura let out a small yelp as her husband picked her up.
"I like that idea best." Laura kissed her captor teasingly.
"And what shall we do?" Fenton grinned.
"I've got some ideas." Giggling like a school girl, Laura hugged her husband as he carried her up the stairs, very glad there were no bad guys around on this particular Sunday.
The
way you look, the way you laugh
The way you love with all you
have,
Your dance, your drive, you make me feel alive
The way
you talk, the way you tease
Right now I think you see
There
ain't nothing bout you that don't do something for me…
A/N: Penny for your thoughts?