Author note: The demand for Jancy content generally has me slightly overwhelmed. I've never received actual requests before for story continuation. (So, like, no pressure, or whatever).

This was intended to be one half of a whole chapter, but I just can't get the second part right just yet. And I refuse to publish work I'm not happy with. You've been warned.

Disclaimer - Duffer Brothers own.


The house was a huge chasm of quiet in the early morning. With Will still sleeping and his mother already forced back into work it was deathly quiet, save for his footfall on the wooden floors as he moved about the house.

Jonathan knew it couldn't have been easy for his mother. To leave her sons outlandishly soon after what had happened. Yet as the dust settled, as he calmed down from his initially desperate reasoning to keep his mother at home with them, he recalled his own words.

People would expect them to be normal. The general populous of the town had no clue what had transpired. Perhaps it was safer if it stayed that way.

This didn't stop him detesting the silence. The only peace he ever truly enjoyed was in the dark room. The faint buzzing of the red lamps, his concentration and focus usually enough to fill his own head. Now however, if he let his guard drop in his home – once a safe sanctuary- sounds echoed from raw memories: wails of despair, white heat bubbling and blistering his eardrums. It was driving him crazy.

He needed a distraction. Evidently, his subconscious was on another vein entirely, as Nancy's face immediately swam in his vision at the thought. That alone caused a guilt to set in his bones. He had been trying (and failing) to focus his attention on Will while he had been at home. This was already proving difficult as Will was still unconscious for large portions of the day, allowing Jonathan's mind to wander to mussed brown hair and big blue eyes.

An internal conflict was waging a cruel war inside him. On one hand, he wanted to aid his little brother's recovery in any way he could. He was still disappointed in himself that he hadn't been there when the dwindling embers of his brother's character had still remained before the monster had engulfed him completely. That was enough for Jonathan. His absence of care was not going to happen again.

And yet, on the other hand – the hand that held a year-old scar – there was Nancy Wheeler. The girl that he just couldn't get out of his head. It had been two days since he'd seen her, spoken to her, kissed her. He already missed the warmth of her eyes on him, her sharp tongue and her comforting presence. The ease with which she acted around him had a calming effect nothing else seemed to be able to replicate now. This time round everything was different. This time round the feelings stirring inside him were warranted. Justifiable.

With his familial and romantic intentions vying for his attention, Jonathan eventually settled on making the mixtape he had promised Nancy while keeping a watchful eye on his sleeping brother. He was content accepting his own compromise; it was a welcome distraction.

It meant the silence was filled. It's heavy weight erased by a soothing melody or a brash, foot stomping riff.

His music collection was stored, unordered, in half a dozen shoe boxes. He carried them and the RX-5090 into the living room, pulling the coffee table so he had a view of Will's room from his work space. Burying himself in his extensive music collection, he'd somehow made two and a half new tapes by lunchtime.

Having shut off the boombox, he went to check on his brother. He'd tried to keep the volume as low as possible, but the tunes had clearly reached his younger brothers ears. He turned over when Jonathan walked into the room, his face showing more colour than it had the previous day.

"Hey Will, how're you feeling?" Jonathan asked, perching himself on the end of the bed.

Will rubbed at his eyes. "Tired," he croaked, glancing out at the table covered in cassettes. "Is that a new mix you've been making?"

"Yeah, sorry bud. Was it too loud?" Jonathan asked, suddenly concerned he hadn't been as considerate as he had intended.

"No…" Will pushed himself up in bed, "…I was liking it. It was nice to wake up to." He smiled feebly.

"Are you hungry?"

"Yeah."

"Pretty sure mom said that was a sign of recovery. Is soup ok?"

Will nodded wearily. "That mix," his brother glanced at the pile of tapes again, his eyes out of focus, "it sounds a bit, I dunno. Different."

Jonathan blinked before frowning. He didn't think he had added anything out of the ordinary. Blondie, New Order, maybe the Elvis Costello was a little off-piste for his usual compilation but it fitted with the upbeat tone he'd been trying to achieve.

"Erm," he ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it at the back, "it's for Nancy actually."

He chanced a glance at his brother to see Will's eyes, although deepened with dark circles, were wide with surprise. "How long have I been out?"

The joke filled the air between them. While initially taken aback by Will's ability to rib him after being – almost literally – dead to the world only a few hours before, Jonathan found himself grinning, a small chuckle escaping him. He shook his head at his brother's cheek.

"Actually, she asked. And she helped. I wanted to say thanks." He quipped back.

"Are you guys together?" Will inquired cautiously. "Is that why she came to the cabin?" His gaze brightening with curiosity as he questioned further.

As much as Jonathan would usually indulge his brother with such things, it was still all new to him. He wasn't entirely sure of how it all worked. How it all fitted together. What the next step might be. He was completely ignorant about what he was doing. The word 'girlfriend' itself remained a loaded one. The mixtape was a low-risk starting point.

"Yeah. Sort of, maybe. I'll make that soup," grateful he'd recalled the edible distraction he made an escape so he could collect himself.

As he heated the soup on the stove his thoughts strayed lazily back to her. Something he was making a habit of.

He thought about the first time he'd properly looked at her. Not through a lens but lying next to her. He remembered the night with such pristine clarity. He'd had to force himself to breath quieter, it had sounded far too loud in his ears alongside her own delicate breaths.

Even in profile she had been more beautiful than any woman he'd ever seen up close. He'd fallen asleep with his eyes on her, knowing he shouldn't but knowing he could. The circumstances had allowed it, as if he was watching over her. (Not that she needed it of course). He hadn't even tried to hide his gaze as it levelled on her form, the duvet pulled under her chin, her face tired but defiant as if she could take on any monster she wanted. Her strength was something he couldn't help but revere in that moment and continued to do so.

Perhaps he had fallen in love with her that night. He would never be sure.

His brother ate his soup and fell asleep shortly afterwards. This left Jonathan to finish the third tape and perfect a fourth.

The fourth was the kicker.

He pushed it into the tape deck for the second time. Laying out on the sofa with his hands behind his head. The tape playing like a hushed lullaby.

"We only seem to hang out when the world's about to end."

That wasn't an accurate representation of them was it? They'd battled monsters, they'd took down a government organisation, they'd been captured and they'd fought back. Every time. And yet he didn't know that much about her when he really thought about it. Her favourite colour, where she liked to eat, where and what even she wanted to do after school. (Unlike him whose ambitions were usually displayed around his neck for the world to see).

Jonathan felt he could loosely deduce Nancy's Wheelers favourite season was winter – someone couldn't own such a broad selection of jumpers and not love the reliable seasonal excuse to wear them. He imagined her liking hot cocoa and a burning log fire.

His eyelids drooped and he allowed himself to indulge in the image of the two of them together in his living room. Cuddled up together under a blanket, warming mugs of something spiced and chocolaty curled in their hands. He could picture her sapphire eyes bright, reflecting a burning flame in the grate.

He abruptly sat upright.

Did he really have to imagine these things? The vividly painted picture in his mind faded like smoke and his heart sank at the site of the empty darkening room. He felt cold.

Jonathan – the knot of guilt tightening one again in the pit of his stomach – strode across the room to peak in at his brother before affirming his decision. If Will had been awake, a brotherly distraction amongst the mental detritus that had built in festering layers, he wouldn't have gone. Waited until he was properly well again. His reasoning held little water, he knew that. But he was starting to feel like an obsessive. All his thoughts on Nancy as his insecurities started falling away. A new credence taking root.

"this is where I want to be Jonathan."

He would go and see her. Because he wanted to. And because maybe it was ok to yield to social normativity. Even if it was only for a few hours. He didn't have to imagine. He could bloody well ask her himself. This wasn't going to pass. Thinking and dwelling and envisioning things about her. He wanted to know. He wanted to know the right answers.

His mum arrived home at 6pm – later than planned. Jonathan had dressed in a nice shirt, he'd combed his hair. All in all, he felt like a bit of an idiot when she stalled in the hall to look him up and down.

"Are you heading out?" she asked, tossing her keys onto the side. He wilted under her probing gaze, folding his arms over his chest. He was gifted a beat to compose himself as his mother checked in on her youngest son.

"I was going to pop by the Wheelers," he said, knowing his mother would see right through him.

Joyce notably relaxed upon seeing Will sleeping, retracted her head from the door, closing it noiselessly. She turned to address Jonathan, "have you spoken to her since she left?"

Jonathan shook his head. He avoided his mothers gaze again, feeling foolish for asking, wondering if she would think him selfish for leaving in lieu of everything that had happened. "It's more to check on her than anything."

He loved his mother. He had the uttermost respect for his mother. He was not however, about to admit he was perturbed he was starting to harbour such intense feelings for Nancy. All he knew was he had to see her, check that the nightmares and horrors weren't also haunting her solitude as they were his.

"When will you be home?"

"Not too late if I'm back at school tomorrow. And…"in case anything happens.

They shared a look of understanding. The words weren't necessary. It was far too early to dismiss another potential threat. That alone was only adding to his sleepless nights. His mother pulled him into a one-armed hug, her other still resting on the doorknob to Will's room.

His mother lingered, her grip tightening. He could feel her shaking. Pulling his face away he could see the silent tears in her eyes. "Mom, I can stay-"

"No. No no. You should go, honey," she murmured wiping her eyes. He felt a pang in his chest and he recoiled, placing both hands on his mother's shoulders.

"Mom, I can stay. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have considered leaving. Not this soon-"

Her eyes snapped up to meet his "- there has been enough bad, Jonathan. If you want to go and see her that's a good thing," she said, the familiar conviction soaking her words. "We'll be fine here."

He thought her assurance was misplaced. How did she know that? How could she be sure they would be ok?

"I can't leave you-"

"Yes you can," his mothers voice rising every so slightly. She steered them towards the front door, Jonathan's protests against leaving were ignored. "Will seeing her make you happy? Would seeing her take your mind off things?"

The internal self-condemnation at wanting to be anywhere but in his home reared it's ugly head again. His body betrayed him. He nodded.

His mother appeared to be fighting off a smile, "well then, take her out for something to eat." She stuffed a five-dollar bill into his jacket pocket before handing it to him.

Jonathan's prolonged hesitation to take the garment from her was met with a softened look, "be home by ten, ok? If you want to go, you should go. Everyone has been through enough. It will cheer you up."

"If you're sure-"

"I'm sure."

Almost convinced he was doing the right thing, he headed out to his car, checking his pockets. Keys, wallet, mix-tape.


When he pulled up outside the Wheeler's house he turned off the cassette he'd been blaring – a crude attempt at a confidence boost. He rubbed his hands on his jeans and killed the engine.

He considered for a moment if Nancy looked out the window and saw his car that she might come out on her own volition. He huffed. That isn't why he'd got in his car. The final push had been the chance of the surprise on her face when she saw him. Those ocean eyes wide and bewildered. Just like that first night.

Karen Wheeler answered the door.

"Oh." She said, her hair set in huge curlers on top of her head, "hi Jonathan. How are you?"

"Hey Mrs Wheeler, I'm doing well thank you."

"And your mom? How is she? And Will? Mike said something about an awful fever?" she questioned. Jonathan tried to keep his face impassive upon hearing Mike's blatant, yet morbidly believable lie.

He tucked his hands deeper into his pockets, "they're doing much better thank you Mrs Wheeler." He faltered for a moment before adding, "is Nancy in?"

Karen Wheeler's eyebrows rose a fraction in surprise. He gripped the mixtape in his jacket tighter. Pushing it deeper into his pocket, feeling a vague scrutiny under her gaze. "Is she home?" He pushed, attempting to sound as polite as possible.

Her face broke into a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "She's just upstairs. Is this another-" she looked him up and down with much more intent than his mother had done "- school project?"

Jonathan bit down on his tongue and nodded, "sort of." Her eyes roved over his appearance for a second time; a look of apprehension finally settling there. Jonathan inwardly cringed. Busted.

"I'll go get her. Come in!" she beckoned him over the threshold smiling sweetly.

As Mrs Wheeler disappeared up the stairs from the hallway, Mike turned the corner from the adjoining living room and into his line of site. The younger boy sauntered towards the entrance way where Jonathan remained, feeling slightly unnerved and self-conscious. Mike's face was dressed with the smallest of smirks as he leaned on the doorframe.

"So, you and Nancy?"

"Erm, I guess."

Mike tapped his chin, playing an effortless nonchalance that Jonathan found himself envying. "What happened to Steve?"

He took a sharp intake of breath at the name. At how it sounded horribly accusatory coming from Mike. He had no idea how to answer that.

"It's been a weird few weeks," was all he could manage as he scratched the back of his head. Trying to defend himself to Nancy's younger brother hadn't been part of his plan of coming to see her.

"Huh," scoffed Mike, a knowing grin twisting onto his mouth, "that's your answer? That's your reasoning for boning my sis-"

"MIKE!"

He would swear later that he had never been more pleased to see her. Nancy Wheeler stood at the top of the stairs looking lividly down at her brother. She rushed down them at such a pace it sent Mike scarpering down into the basement, an infantile yelp escaping him.

Drawing level with Jonathan by the front door she stopped. "Hi!" she said breathlessly, sweeping the hair away from her face.

"Hey." Jonathan could see she looked tired, perhaps as though she hadn't been sleeping well either.

"Eugh, you guys are gross. You're such a liar Nancy."

Mike's head protruded from behind the basement door.

"What is it Mike?" asked Nancy, a hand finding her hip. "Why?"

Mike put on a more feminine voice, "oh it's not like that!" Jonathan felt his heart stutter uncomfortably.

"Says you, Mike!" exclaimed Nancy, advancing towards the basement, "what about Eleveh, huh?"

Mike stuck his tongue between his teeth and his bottom lip, a petulant action Jonathan found unnerving.

"You're an ass. Can you just?" she motioned with her hands for him to leave, her eyes wide and threatening. The door was promptly slammed in her face. She gave a growl of annoyance before slapping her hand against the wood.

Then suddenly, Nancy was up close. Hair wild and her brow furrowed in concern. "I'm sorry about that. He's upset Eleven has gone back into hiding. I'm trying to be a bit more tolerant you know? After everything." She crossed her arms over her chest, "Is everything ok with you? I didn't expect to see you til you came back to school."

Her close proximity was thrilling for a brief moment before he realised exactly what she had asked. "Everything's ok, I think. As ok as it can be." He added at her deepening frown. "I erm, my mum said I should come. I mean, I wanted to. But then I didn't know if I should leave Will and-"

"It's not like you could call," interrupted Nancy sheepishly.

He gave a small laugh, "no I couldn't, you're right."

"I'm sorry. I should have borrowed Mike's bike or something," she said, biting her lip, "I should have come to check on you."

He considered this for a moment before responding, "no. It's ok. I wanted to come."

In the hassle of navigating around Nancy's family to his current position in the Wheeler's hallway, he had almost forgotten the cassette in his jacket pocket. It's plastic warmed to his palm.

He took it out and handed it to her.

There was a beat of silence where she gawked at the tape, her eyes steadying on the black marker label: 1984 – for Nancy.

Slowly, her mouth tugged to one side as she took it from him. The side of her eyes crinkling beautifully. Nancy trying her damn hardest not to actually beam at him was something he'd had the fortune of observing before.

He was transported back to their hands resting together – the gentlest graze of skin on skin – as she gave him the very same look over the bedside table. Then she had consciously draw away, uncertainty in her averted gaze. This time she allowed the grin to widen, beguiled it would seem by his gesture.

"Is it any good?" she asked, the hint of a smirk apparent on her pretty face.

Jonathan smiled back, a veritable warmth spreading like a deluge in his chest. "That's for you to judge."

She turned the tape over in her hands before she inquired, "no track list?"

He shook his head, "it might just be some of my finest work; I didn't want to give it all away immediately."

The glowing look that accompanied her taking a step closer to him, instilled all his intentions. "Would you like to grab something for dinner with me?"

Nancy raised an inquisitive eyebrow, taking in his smart-shirt before resting on his dilapidated trainers. Her head snapped up to look at him expectantly.

"I was thinking the diner on Silver Street," he tried, scratching at his denim jeans nervously.

Her smile faltered. "I'm not entirely sure if I'm on house arrest." She glanced over her shoulder before whispering, "mom tried calling Stacy, so she knows I wasn't there over the weekend."

As if purposefully summoned, Karen Wheeler materialised at the top of the stairs. Much to Jonathan's displeasure they both instinctively took a step apart.

"So what's the school project on this time? I didn't realise you shared so many classes," accounted Mrs Wheeler a curious look in her eye as she levelled with the two teenagers in the hallway.

With the tape missing from his pocket, his nails began digging in to the skin, neatly tucking into the groove of his scar. It throbbed painfully, but it helped him keep his face composed. Keep off the no doubt dopey look he had previously warn when looking down at Nancy. Something Mrs Wheeler could no doubt have been privy to had she been stood there long before she spoke.

"Actually," Nancy began, taking a brief peek back at Jonathan as if she couldn't help it, "Jonathan wanted to take me out to dinner. Would I be allowed?"

Mrs Wheeler's expression jumped from curious to astonished in a heartbeat. Jonathan swallowed hard. He hadn't expected Nancy to be so flagrant with her request. So open with the fact that he wanted to take her out. He felt himself shrinking beside Nancy as Mrs Wheeler looked on dumbstruck.

Why wouldn't she? He considered. Nancy had gone from taking pleasure in the company of popular athletic Steve Harrington to quiet loner, Jonathan Byers. He tried to erase the mental image from his mind of the two of them stood side by side in front of Karen Wheeler for her to judge all the positive attributes about Steve that he couldn't possibly hope to possess.

The insecurity must have shown on his face as Nancy took his hand forcibly from his pocket, pressing into the scar before caressing there comfortingly. He relaxed a little, "can I mom?"

"Nancy-,"

"I swear I'll be back by eleven," said Nancy, the faintest hint of desperation noticeable in her tone.

Jonathan, finding his voice from somewhere, recalling the conversation he'd had earlier with his mother added, "actually my mom wants me home by ten."

Both women looked at him abruptly with a matching blue stare.

"Ten?" queried Nancy. He nodded. "Oh."

Mrs Wheeler, still regarding him with suspicion addressed him specifically, "so you'll drop Nancy off before then?" she looked him up and down again, as if trying to gauge how dangerous it might be for Nancy to go on a date with Jonathan Byers. He held the smallest of sympathies for Karen; she didn't know the half of it.

"Yes, Mrs Wheeler." She cocked her head to one side, the serious expression on her face making her look much more motherly than he had seen before. He squared his shoulders, having allowed them to slump; Nancy's hand in his somehow dispelling his initial defeatist attitude.

"You'll be home by then, Nancy?"

"Yes, mom."

"Make sure you take a jacket."

"Of course, mom."

"Be careful."

"I will," Nancy blurted, fidgeting on the spot. The irony not lost on Jonathan was clearly obviously to Nancy as well.

Karen gave them both a hard look before heading back into the kitchen.

"Your mom seriously has no idea?" Jonathan asked when they were a safe speaking distance from the house.

Nancy drew her coat together across her middle, "I don't know. I think she believed Mike about Will's fever. Which I guess isn't that far removed from the truth."

Jonathan hummed in agreement. Finding an incredulity in Karen Wheeler's blinding ignorance to what was happening with her children. He was eternally grateful for his own mother in that moment. Her belief of the extraordinary and her eternal support.

"My mom said I should come. She said it would be good for me."

Nancy smiled, leaning into him as they walked. "I'm glad you came."

"I haven't been sleeping well," he confessed, finding the fresh air and freedom of her company loosening his tongue. "Have you?"

"No. I didn't sleep all that well in the last year, though." She sounded disconcerted by her own truth. As they got in the car, she settled into the seat. Just like she always seemed to; making herself comfortable.

"Can we play the new tape?" she asked, that curling of her lips was back again, adorning her face over the sadness. It seemed to wash it away. Whatever she was thinking had erased that pained look of anguish that had darkened her features. He wanted to wash it away forever if he could.

He made a mental note to buy some more blank tapes.

With the cassette in the tape deck they set off to the diner. Upon introspection, Jonathan considered an hour or two away from home could be a good thing. He finally found himself suitably distracted by the presence of the girl beside him. All thoughts of screams, dark veins and sweat left by the roadside in the dust of his exhaust.


I await the backlash. I am truly sorry that there isn't more Jancy in this. I really wanted to get down some content of Jonathan finally letting his walls come down a bit though. Hence the text heavy start to this chapter. Either way, there will be more fluff content in the future. I hope y'all aren't too disappointed.