Title: Wise to Your Act
Rating: PG/K+
Disclaimer: If I wrote it, it wouldn't be published because it would be locked in endless revision.
Pairing: Small hint of Frank/Nancy, so if that bothers you, skip the last line.
Summary: Nancy lets someone know she's on to his act. He surprises her by being onto hers.
Author's Note: The line about "you have a type?" wouldn't stop echoing in my head after watching the movie again, so this happened, but it's kind of a nice bonding moment, too.
Wise to Your Act
"I think you should know that the glasses cliché is a little obvious in the current time frame. I know it seems like a logical accessory to complete the personna you're stressing, but when you allow too many people to see you don't actually need them, it makes the whole act seem false," Nancy said, having observed the senior in question without his thick glasses too often not to remark upon it. "You would fit in with them even without the glasses."
"Says the girl that doesn't fit in anywhere," the boy countered, leaning against the wall. He had an air of confidence that Nancy didn't think she'd seen in him before, though she didn't have that many classes with him as he was a senior and she wasn't.
"Also, you and your brother get along better than you pretend," she said, feeling that same boldness come over her as she always did when she was reaching the end of a case and had all the threads she needed to tie it together. "You fight whenever someone's paying attention to you, but if you're alone or think you are, you two are thick like thieves."
He shrugged. "Brothers argue. Then they get along again. It's how it works."
"Yes, but you're different. Not only are you..." Nancy's eyes widened as she had the final piece. "You're also transfers. New students. You came here only a few weeks before I did, and you're—undercover. You're investigating something here at the school. There were rumors about cheating on standardized tests—"
"I'm starting to think someone has an overactive imagination in addition to a funky sense of fashion," he told her. "You know, you would make an excellent GM. You have any interest in Dungeons and Dragons or—"
"It's the drug ring, isn't it? Inga and Trish aren't involved, so I haven't seen much of a way in connection, but I did hear rumors, and I was putting together some theories."
"You have theories?"
She shrugged. "It's kind of a thing. Though I said I was giving up sleuthing when I came to LA, so I really shouldn't—"
"Tell me your theories," he said, taking off his glasses and putting them in his pocket. She saw the acknowledgment of her observation, and she thought he was doing more than humoring her, though she could be wrong—she'd been humiliated in front of a gym full of people—including him.
"I admit, I haven't really had time to do much with them because I've been—"
"Solving the Dehlia Draycott murder," he finished, and she stared at him for a moment before he shrugged. "Everyone knows where you're staying. It makes sense you'd look into it—if sleuthing is your thing."
She blushed. "It's your thing, too, though."
He grinned back at her, and she felt a slight bit of guilt. She'd told Ned not to worry because the guy from Smallville wasn't her type, but she was afraid that guys with intelligent soulful eyes and a thing for mysteries and undercover work just might be.