"Look, don't get me wrong, I love supporting your rare and random acts of spontaneity, but can you explain to me againwhywe're driving all the way to River Heights during the middle of the Christmas holidays for a last-minute new year's celebration?"
Joe is looking at Frank incredulously, hanging out the window with a bag of cheese-its like a confused pet dog, while Frank pumps gas into his old red sedan. The cold air is making his fingers feel stiff, and he tucks his chin into the collar of his winter coat to try and retain a little more warmth.
Joe shoves a handful of cheese-its into his mouth and continues; "You know, I've asked you like eight times already and every time you give me a stupid answer that doesn't make sense. My detective senses are tingling, Frank. They're tingling!"
Rolling his eyes, Frank finishes filling his gas tank and puts the pump back. "I hate it when you say tingling."
Joe's eyes widen and he gestures wildly. "See? This is what I mean. Avoiding the subject. Talking back to me. God, Frank…who did you kill? Are we going to hide the body? I only brought my nice pair jeans so you're going to have to buy me a new pair if I get blood on them." A pause, then a gasp. "Shit – did you kill Ned? I know you've never liked him, but jeez don't you think Nancy breaking up with him was enough?"
Frank slams the gas cap shut and tears the receipt from the pump. "What?!" he grinds out, moving around the car to climb back into the passenger seat. He closes the door with a little bit too much force and the air freshener hanging on the rear-view mirror sways. "No, Joe, I did notkillNed. Don't be an idiot."
Joe tucks his head back into the car and gives Frank a look of doubt. "Sure, you're wanting to drive 13 hours in the middle of winter for totally innocent reasons."
's mind is suddenly filled with the image of Nancy in her red Christmas dress, and he can almost hear her voice in his ear, sultry and intoxicating…tell me how you would fuck me…
Frank's cheeks flush with warmth and he grips the door handle not innocent.
"Why are you being so obnoxious?" He manages to grind out. "Bess is having a new year's party and thought it would be a good reason for us to have a visit. Nancy thought it was a fun idea and said we could stay with her. My answer hasn't magically changed since the last time you asked me."
"Yeah, yeah. But like I said, my detective senses are tingling. And when they tingle, I have to listen to them. It's like my spidey-sense."
Frank rolls his eyes. "Sure, Joe, it's your spidey-sense."
Joe tosses the box of cheese-its into the back seat and starts up the car. As he pulls back onto the West-bound highway, the silence between them is filled with the sound of the classic rock radio station. Joe had taken over the radio controls when he'd started his shift driving, and in the 3 hours it has been since then, Frank had heard Smoke on the Water at least 4 times.
There's a loudpingof an incoming text and Frank's phone buzzes loudly where it sits in the cup holder. He grabs it a little bit too quickly when he sees Nancy's name on the notification and Joe side-eyes him suspiciously.
"I think you've had too much caffeine, Frank."
"Shut up." Frank mutters as he unlocks his phone to look at the message.
NANCY DREW: How's the drive going? Are the roads okay?
FRANK HARDY: Roads are good – Joe's driving now. I think we'll be there around 2200, maybe 2130 if Joe keeps driving like a maniac.
NANCY DREW: Great! The sooner the better :)
Frank smiles and it feels like his stomach does a strange somersault inside of him.
NANCY DREW: We'll have some dinner here for you when you arrive, if lasagna is okay.
FRANK HARDY: That sounds incredible, thank you!
He feels like he should say something more, but he doesn't really know how to put how he's feeling into words. It feels as though his stomach is in knots and his heart is being held in a vice grip – not in a way that makes him feels like he's going to die, but in a way that makes each mile closer to River Heights feel like a tsunami wave that's growing in the middle of the ocean. He feels the wave rising as he types a reply –but when he reads his words, he starts to worry about coming across as too forward. He doesn't want to scare her, make her feel pressure about him visiting, because reallynothinghas to happen and that would be okay. They're friends first, and friends always – nothing would change that, not even a phone call that hestillthinks about every spare second of every day —
Joe swerves to avoid a piece of garbage on the highway and the jerking motion of the vehicle means his thumb plants solidly on theSENDbutton.
FRANK HARDY: I'm really excited to see you!
"Joe!" He hisses, staring with wide eyes at the message he's just sent.
shouldn't have used an exclamation mark, it's probably way too much, she's probably going to worry that he's coming into this with too many expectations and that he's going to want to hook up the second they arrive. Taking a deep breath, he squeezes the bridge of his nose, trying to calm himself down.
Ping.
NANCY DREW: I'm really excited to see you, too!
With a sign of relief, he feels a smile stretch across his face, and he takes a second to wait for his heart to stop beating in his throat.
"What are you smiling about?" Joe asks, eyeing the phone gripped tightly in Frank's hand.
She's excited to see me."Nancy says there's lasagna for when we get there."
Joe grins. "Oh, hell yeah. That makes it worth getting up at 5 in the morning."
Frank hums affirmatively as Joe begins to sing along to Stairway to Heaven, surprisingly on-key.
It's only when they get 10 minutes away from Nancy's house that it hits him properly that he's going to see her for this first time in months – the first time since they crossed the very thick line in the sand that had existed since he was 18 years old and Nancy had first started dating Ned. Well, they didn't really justcrossthe line, they kind of leaped across it and ended up so far away that they're on this strange, unmapped territory. And now he's absolutely terrified. He and Joe had switched driving 2 hours ago, and so now he's gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles are white.
Since their phone call on Christmas, things had shifted. They had been messaging more, and even though it was usually casual conversation, he now found himself checking his phone like a man possessed. Every time it went off, he would find himself checking immediately to see if it was her. Their messages were nothing like they were that one night, but he's kind of glad they haven't because he's pretty sure if they were he'd probably have a heart attack or something. And, okay, maybe they've gotten a little bit flirty at times, but he feels like he can't…can't go too far before he actually sees her in person, and they can figure out whatever this is become. Because messaging her is starting to become the best part of his day and he's absolutely terrified he's not going to have that anymore if he fucks it up. He feels like he's 18 again, because that was when he realised how much his heart hurt when he saw her.
"Jeez Frank, you're practically strangling the steering wheel."
Frank releases his grip quickly and takes a deep breath. "Sorry, sorry."
"Why are you so…weird? You've been weird ever since Nancy invited us out for New Year's." Joe turns in his seat to properly examine Frank, and he looks like some sort of therapist drop-out with his brown leather coat and Christmas hat on, resting his chin on his fist.
"No, I haven't!"
"Uh, yes you have. Are you nervous to see Nancy since she and Ned broke up?"
His knuckles go white again. "No, I'm just tired from the drive." He knows his voice is a little higher pitched than normal, and his inflection sounds strange.
"Because if you were nervous, I'd get it. I mean, you've always had athingfor Nancy, and now you're not with Callie, and she's not with Ned, so now it's different."
A large part of him wants to keep denying that there's anything going on, because he knows that Joe will take it and run with it, and he doesn't want him to start making jokes that could make Nancy feel uncomfortable. But also, Joe is his brother, and despite a lot of evidence to the contrary, he's pretty smart. Frank knows that the second he sees Nancy, Joe will be able to tell he's a nervous wreck – he's been able to pick up on it this entire drive, although Frank knows he's not hiding it particularly well. And to Joe's credit, he is usually pretty understanding when it comes to Nancy stuff.
"Okay, yeah, it is a little bit…different." He admits, keeping his eyes firmly on the road so that he can't see Joe's expression. "But I don't know if anything is going to happen, but it's just…different than all the other times we've seen her."
Also, we basically had phone sex and I came so hard I nearly blacked out.
He doesn't add that part.
Joe seems very thrilled with himself. "See, I knew something was up! I never tingle for no reason." He pats Frank on the shoulder. "Chill. You and Nancy always figure it out, thing or no thing. But…just be careful."
Joe's tone has suddenly changed, and Frank glances over in surprise. The once jovial expression on Joe's face is now serious. "I know you like her a lot more than you probably let on. Just…I don't want you to get hurt."
The tension in Frank's shoulders lessens, his voice softening. "I know. I'll be careful…and, like I said, I don't even think anything will happen—"lie."Oh crap, this is the turn, isn't it?"
He quickly changes lanes and turns down Nancy's street and suddenly he can't seem to think anymore. His mind is just a blank slate, his body operating on autopilot. As her house come up on the right, he sees her car in the driveway, and the porch light is on, like a beacon of promise in the dark. The light is bouncing off of the snow that is slowly falling, and the world feels so quiet.
Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.
"Oh, this is going to be a fun couple of days." Joe snickers next to him, back to his joking self. "You look like you're going to shit yourself."
"No, I don't!" Frank practically yells, pulling into the driveway. Taking a steeling breath to calm himself, he parks the car and looks at Joe. "I swear – if you sayanythingat all, I will kill you."
"Have a little faith, Frank-o. I'll be on my best behaviour!" There's a glint in his eye as he says it, but before Frank can say anything else, Joe is racing out of the car and marching up to the front door.
He takes a second to gather himself and then follows, tucking his hands firmly into the pockets of his jacket. It's cold and the walkway is a little slippery, but he manages to avoid falling and looking like an idiot. Joe is standing next to the door hopping back and forth.
"Jeez – I have to pee so badly. I think that last soda went through me faster than the others."
"Or your kidneys have finally given out after all the coffee and soda you've had today." Frank says as he comes to stand next to Joe. "Did you knock?"
"Yeah, duh. And if my kidneys were failing, my skin would be yellow."
"That's your liver."
"Same difference, pish posh."
Frank rolls his eyes as there's a commotion behind the door, and it opens to reveal a smiling Carson Drew. There's a few more wrinkles on his face since the last time Frank saw him, and his salt-and-pepper hair looks a lot saltier than a few years ago, but there's an undeniable youth behind his eyes as he greets them and beckons them inside. The house is warm and inviting, and the sound of a crackling fire fills the air.
"Frank, you're seem to get taller every time I see you!" Carson says as he envelops Frank into a hug. Frank lets out a laugh as he tries to avoid looking around for Nancy.
"Thanks for having us, Mr. Drew." He says, pulling back. "Sorry we're here so late – it's a long drive from Bayport."
"Don't worry at all – you made pretty good time, actually. You boys must be exhausted."
Joe nods as Carson gives him a hug as well. "A little bit, but nothing some lasagna can't fix."
Carson chuckles, and motions for them to take their shoes and coats off. "We can grab your stuff later – come have some food. Nancy's just grabbing some drinks from the basement. She's been really looking forward to seeing you guys."
"Us too – can you just remind me where your bathroom is? I haven't been here since you remodelled, which looks great, by the way." Joe is hopping side-to-side again and his eyes are kind of bulging out slightly.
Carson gestures up the stairs to the right. "Yes – of course. Here, I'll take you to the upstairs bathroom. Frank, just go down the hall and the kitchen is right there. Nancy should be up in a minute."
Joe and Carson make their way up the stairs and Frank is now left alone in the front entrance. He doesn't really know whether he should go to the kitchen or wait for Joe to get back, but his feet soon begin to move before he's fully thought it through. He can hear the clinking of bottles in the kitchen, and from the absent-minded humming, he knows that it's Nancy. She always hums when she's concentrating on something – she does it whenever she's working on a puzzle, or even when she reads sometimes. Not that he's just been staring at her every time he's around her, but…okay, maybe he does a little bit. It's always been hard for him tonotpay attention to her.
He can do this, he can stay calm and collected. Even as his pulse thrums against his skin, and his heart starts to feel like it's going to jump into his throat, and a tidal wave ofsomethingis churning in his stomach.
And then he sees her, and it's so cheesy, but everything slows down.
She's standing at the island counter putting bottles of beer into a bucket of ice. Her strawberry blonde hair is down, tucked behind one of her ears, and falling over her shoulders. She's wearing a merlot coloured long sleeved shirt that has a wide, scooping neckline, allowing his eyes to take in the sight of her collarbones and neck – it's nothing provocative, but the sight makes his palms sweaty, and that's the exact moment he realizes he's utterly doomed.
She must sense his presence because she looks up from the bottles and her eyes widen, her cheeks flushing with the slightest shade of pink. He's seen her before, lots of times, but for the first time it feels like he's allowing himself to actually look at her. For a moment, all he can do is fall into her gaze, sapphire pools drowning him, taking hold over every breath, every beat of his heart. And it's such a sweet feeling that he never wants to end.
Ohhh fuck.
"Hi," she says, quietly, softly, sweetly, shyly. She smiles at him.
Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my –
"Hey," he replies, his feet frozen to the tile floor. He's sure she can probably hear the thud of his heart inside his chest. "Hi." He says again, like an idiot.
She beams at him, letting out a small laugh, and it feels like it physically tugs him closer. His feet move clumsily, almost tripping over themselves as he walks, but he manages to make his way up to the island without making a complete fool of himself. And now she's here, standing right in front of him, looking up into his eyes.
"Can I give you a hug?" She asks, her head tilting slightly to the side. There's no hesitancy to her voice and he's kind of relieved, because right now he can barely string together a unified thought. His brain right now is just a garbled collection of words and images and feelings, and he can't really get any of them in order.
He nods, hoping it doesn't look as feverish as it feels, and then she's rising onto her toes and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, surrounding him with warmth. His hands find themselves around her waist, and he's hyper aware of not letting them raise too high or fall too low. Their bodies are touching in so many places and it overwhelms him; her chest pressing into his, her hands against the skin of his neck, her head just touching his. Cinnamon and vanilla – the smell of her perfume in his lungs; the desire to bury his head in her neck andbreathenearly overcomes him.
She pulls away slowly, her hands drifting down his neck, over his shoulders, until they rest on his chest. Her fingers are cold from the ice, but it feels like a burning heat is exploding from where they rest. It matches the heat he notes in her gaze, her eyes darting across his face, looking into his eyes one second, and down at his mouth the next. She catches her bottom lip between her teeth, and he almost dies right on the spot.
"Hi," she says again, "long time no see."
He nods, "yeah…you look…" he exhales a slow, calming breath, and he squeezes lightly where his hands are still resting on her can do this."You look really beautiful." It comes out as a whisper, but he says it.
The pink on her cheeks darkens as her eyes dance.
There's the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway and they both pull away quickly, but when her hands leave his chest it feels like a part of him is being torn away. He feels the absence of her against him as profoundly as he feels the need to breathe. Which he does now – his lungs are burning, and he realizes he's been holding his breath.
"…yeah, the coffee in Indiana is the best out of all the states we drove through," Joe is explaining. "I had my seventh, eighth, and ninth coffees there so I'm pretty much an expert now."
Carson is looking at Joe with a mildly concerned expression on his face. "That's…a lot of coffee."
Joe nods, and his eyes catch Frank and Nancy standing next to each other by the kitchen island. Frank knows he probably looks like he's been struck by lightning or something, but he can't really find it in himself to care very much in this moment.
"Nancy Drew!" Joe cries as he pulls Nancy into a bear hug. "How was the trip back from Germany? Do you speak German now?"
Nancy laughs, patting Joe on the back before pulling away and grabbing the bucket of beers. "I know maybe three words and that's it. And I'll probably forget those soon enough. Here," she puts the bucket closer to Joe and Frank's reach. "There's beer here, and soda in the fridge. We also have water, if you'd prefer. You must be so tired!"
As Joe regales Nancy and Carson with a dramatic re-enactment of their drive out from Bayport, Frank grabs a beer and makes his way around the island so he's not standing such an awkward distance from Nancy. He wonders if Joe and Carson saw anything, and he wonders what they're thinking.
After a few minutes, Carson pulls a tray of lasagna out of the oven and serves it onto two plates. "We've already eaten," he explains, "so help yourselves with seconds and thirds."
They make their way over to the dining room table and Frank finds himself sitting across from Nancy, who is slowly sipping from a wine glass. Joe asks more about her time in Germany, and she talks about her case while they devour the meal.
She's so animated and passionate as she speaks, and Frank keeps having to remind himself to eat, because he just loves watching her talk about her detective work. Her hands are gesturing wildly as she describes the layout of the castle and the forest; her eyes are glinting as she explains the strange board game the castle-master had created.
He goes to take a sip of his beer and finds it empty.
"Oh, do you want another one?" She asks, interrupting her own retelling of when she had to climb down a well. "I was going to top up my glass anyways."
"Oh, sure, if that's okay. Thank you." He puts his empty bottle in her outstretched hand and forces himself to avert his eyes as she stands and walks back to the kitchen. The jeans she's wearing are hugging the curve of her waist and hips in a way that's making it hard to concentrate on anything else. Really, it should be absolutely criminal, to look as good in jeans as she does. His mind starts to travel down a path he knows he shouldn't…but now he's thinking about what it would feel like to grab her ass through her jeans, to feel her pressed up against him. He wants to know what she's wearing underneath that light washed denim…he wants to be the one to take those jeans off and find out.
There's a hard stomp on his foot and Joe coughs unnaturally.
Oh shit. He's been staring.
He feels warmth explode across his cheeks and hopes to high heaven that Carson didn't just watch him check out his daughter with the thirst of a feral animal.
What do you want to do to me, Frank?
Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.
"So, Carson," Joe grinds out, squishing Frank's toes under his heel once more to make sure his point has gotten across. "What are your plans for new years?"
Carson, thankfully, doesn't look like he outright wants to murder Frank for so blatantly objectifying his daughter. He seems to have failed to notice because he's swirling his own bottle of beer in his hand, thank God.
"Well, a there's an office get together that I'm going to attend in Chicago, so I may be staying there tomorrow night – I'm not sure yet." He pauses, looking between Frank and Joe, and then behind him. Nancy's searching for the bottle opener, clearly distracted.
"I'm really glad you two are here." He continues, hushed. "Ever since Nancy and Ned…well, you both know…anyways, she's been a bit down. Since she found out you two were going to come out, she's been a lot happier, so thank you."
Frank nods, biting his tongue. Joe leans forward.
"Of course, Mr. Drew. Break ups suck, so we're glad we can help. Frank and Callie also broke up recently – something's in the air, I guess."
Carson's eyes dart to Frank's and suddenly it feels like he's on the witness stand at a criminal trial. He swears he feels a bead of sweat start to form on his forehead and he wonders if he's imagining the suspicion on Carson's face.
"Huh," the lawyer says, leaning back in his chair and not removing his gaze from Frank's. "I'm…sorry to hear that."
Frank gulps, then clears his throat. "Uh, yeah, it's okay. We just wanted different things."
"Hm." Is all Carson says in reply. Frank wishes the floor would swallow him whole.
Thankfully, Nancy returns at that exact moment, carrying a fresh bottle of beer and a topped-up glass of wine. She's smiling at him as she hands him the bottle, andmaybehe grabs it high enough to brush his fingers against hers. Just a little bit. And even though Carson is sitting right there, and his toes are still stinging from Joe's mashing, he smiles at her softly. A rush of warmth envelopes every inch of his skin.
Holy fuck he's in so deep.
He's just going to plug in his phone and get into bed when he notices he's missing the damn charger. Realising he left it in the car, he groans.
"Shit. I left my phone charger in the car – can I borrow yours?"
Joe scoffs, rolling over in the bed to give Frank an incredulous look. "Uh, no way. I used up my battery snapchatting the whole drive to Chet and Iola and now I need all the juice I can get." He holds up his own phone, which is plugged in, and shakes it to further emphasise his point.
Frank's eyes roll into the back of his skull as he reaches for a hoodie to throw over his old ATAC t-shirt. "Fine. I'll be back in a bit, if I don't die of hypothermia."
"Don't be so dramatic, Frankie-boy. A little cold won't hurt you."
Frank shuts the door quietly behind him as he exits – the guest room, although tucked away in a corner of the upstairs, is still just down the hall from Nancy's bedroom. She had wished him and Joe a goodnight after helping them carry in their luggage, and so he didn't want to wake her up if she was sleeping.
He wishes he had been able to sneak another moment alone with her, but he's also sort of grateful that he hasn't, because he's not really sure what he would even , Nancy…so I've jerked off like eight times already to the memory of that phone call, and I also have been in love with you for the last…I don't know…twelve years? So yeah…I love you and want to fuck you, if that would be okay with you. Please. Also you can say no if you don't want to, because really I'm just happy to be your friend.
He's pretty sure she would turn and run if he said any of that. And he wouldn't blame her in the slightest. Jesus, he wonders if he's always been this awkward – it doesn't feel like it…being around Nancy has always seemed to bring out the weirdest quirks of his personality.
As he walks down the carpeted hallway, he passes the bathroom and hears the sound of an electric toothbrush. There's also a faint voice speaking, and he finds himself frozen to the floor, listening.
"The knife that was used in her murder was wiped clean, and so initial testing was unable to procure any substantial evidence. However, when it was re-tested in 2005, investigators found two different DNA profiles on the hilt – the victim's, and her boyfriends. It is commonly known that stabbings often result in injury to the perpetrator, and this –" The voice cuts off at the same time as the toothbrush goes silent, and a moment later the door is flung open.
It's Nancy, of course. Carson's bedroom and bathroom are on the main floor, and she had already explained earlier that they would be sharing a bathroom. He'd seen the bottles of her shampoo in the shower when he had been in their about 20 minutes ago. And anyways, there's not many other people he knows who would be listening to a crime podcast while they brush their teeth.
It takes a moment for the information from his eyes to make its way to his brain, but the moment it does, he finds himself fighting very hard to keep his eyes fixed on her forehead. Or the ceiling. Or the floor. Because she's dressed in a dark blue nightdress that falls to just above her knees, and although she's wearing a light grey robe over top, its not tied at the front, allowing him to see the smooth, slightly freckled skin of her neck and chest. It takes him a microsecond to notice she's not wearing a bra, and not even a nanosecond more before he makes out the faintest outline of her nipples through the thin silk.
Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.
He's thankful for the dim lighting, his hoodie, and for his loose flannel pants, because he swears all the blood in his body has begun to migrate south. He tries desperately to focus on her face and begins to clench and un-clench his fists in an attempt to shift his body's focus – something he hasn't had to do since he was 14, but it seems like Nancy is making him lose all control. He feels like an absolute pervert for how quickly his brain has turned into mush at the sight of her, but there's a warm, weighty silence in the hallway that makes him realize how alone they are right now, and his heart twists with anticipation.
Her eyes catch his and she smiles, her cheeks flushing the slightest shade of pink. "Oh, hi. Sorry, I didn't realize you were waiting."
"Oh no," he manages to say. His voice is noticeably high and thready. He clears his throat. "I was just…I forgot my phone charger in the car…I have to go, uh, grab it."
She stands up a little bit straighter. "But it's so cold outside! It's started snowing again – you don't want to be going out in that." She steps past him and he finds himself surrounded by her scent, and he aches to reach out and touch her, to move the tendril of hair hanging in front of her face behind her ear. He feels his fingers twitch, and he clenches his fist tightly to stop himself from doing anything too forward. Jesus, it's like he's magnetized to her presence, because as she begins to walk down the hallway, he starts to follow her without even thinking about it.
"Here, I have a spare in my room, you can just borrow that for the night."
Uh oh.
Next thing he knows, he's standing in the doorway to her bedroom. He's straddling a threshold, he knows – his heels back in the territory offriend Frank,his toes dipping into an unknown he finds himself so deeply drawn to explore. Nancy's right there, searching in one of her closets, standing on her tiptoes. He's never noticed how strong and firm her calve muscles are…probably from all the running and chasing she does on her cases…her legs are so smooth and long and they'd probably feel so good wrapped around him, squeezing him in closer…
Holy fuck, Frank, pull yourself together.
"It should be in here…" she says, her voice slightly muffled because it's directed into the closet. "Or maybe it's in my bedside drawer. Maybe take a look in there, Frank?"
"Right." Now his legs are moving and he's over the precipice and inside her bedroom. Even though nothing has happened yet, and nothing may happen at all, he feels like things have shifted. He's never been in her room before, at least, not as an adult. It's a space fit for her, with lots of bookshelves filled with both fiction and non-fiction, and her desk is neatly organized. The room is lit by the cosy, warm light of her bedside lamp. As he navigates over to her bed, he notes the familiarity of the comforter, and his eyes widen. He can just imagine her, lying on this bed, in a dress the colour of wine.
He distracts himself by scrambling to her bedside drawer, opening it and looking at the contents. No charger. However, there is a lock picking kit, a few notebooks, some hair ties, and a Koko Kringle bar. He smiles.
"Midnight snack storage?" He asks, lifting up the chocolate bar so she can see. Nancy peers over her shoulder and lets out a chuckle.
"You know chocolate is my only weakness," she says, "my best epiphanies come to me at night, and I need to reward myself."
He laughs softly. "Does your brain ever stop moving at lightning speed?"
"Never."
"Now I know your secret, though, so maybe one day I'll be able to out-detective you."
"I'm sure you could out-detective me now." She concedes, before adding cheekily, "on one of my bad days."
"I'm not going to argue with that – whenever you help out with our cases, they seem to go by a lot faster."
Nancy turns and smiles at him, and his heart feels like it squeezes a little bit too hard. "I love working cases with you two. Hurley's train was the most fun I've ever had on a case."
He remembers it fondly, too. Especially when they had sat outside their motel rooms, watching the sunrise, talking about nonsense. It had been the first time they'd seen each other in a while, and he can remember how her face looked in the bright light of a new day. That's when he had begun to fall for her in a different way than before – his childhood crush turning into something bigger, deeper. He wonders if she remembers that morning.
"And I wanted to thank you, again, for everything you did to help when I was in Germany. I couldn't have done it without you." She's no longer looking in the closet now – she's moved towards her desk. Her head is down, hair falling and obscuring the expression on her face, but he definitely thinks he notices a blush blooming across her cheeks.
Moving closer to her, he watches as she carefully slides open each drawer and examines its contents. He wonders if he should step in closer, into her person space. But she's not facing him, and he doesn't want her to feel trapped in a corner, so he settles for leaning against the wall of the little alcove.
"Of course, Nancy. You don't need to say thank you for that at all. I love helping you any way I can." He pauses, his next words resting nervously on the tip of his tongue. "…If you need any evidence for proof, I can give you plenty."
Her spine straightens as though his words have physically shocked her, and he's pretty sure she's realised the reference he's just made. He knows he needs to do this now, before it's too late. Earlier, they had no guarantee of privacy, and so it was a bad time , they were alone, and if he missed this chance it would probably be too late. Too awkward. And he doesn't want this whole visit to pass without them addressing the large, horny elephant in the room. He hopes that this can be the segue into talking about it…it's honestly the only way he can think about bringing it up without it being so blatant and unescapable. This way, if she doesn't want to talk about it, she has an out. She could feign ignorance and he would let this moment pass without ever bringing it up again and that would be okay. Eventually. Once his heart and his ego healed a little bit.
Willing every neuron in his skull to formulate a coherent sentence, he manages to construct something that makes sense. "Nancy…I…about our phone call on Christmas. I wanted to talk about it. We should probably talk about it." The last part comes out rushed and he curses how obviously nervous he is.
She turns to face him, and he thinks he hears her breath catch in her throat. Her gaze is a mix of curiosity – an expression that he knows well – openness, and a little bit of fear. Yet her eyes are steeled as she nods, despite the worried furrow of her brow.
"I don't regret it at all." She says, her voice even and firm. "If that's what you wanted to know."
And now she's looking at him like she's waiting for him to say something, anything. Her hand lifts from the drawer handle and comes to rest on her chest, right over her heart. His heart beats a little faster and he lets out a breath of relief – she doesn't regret doesn't regret my god.
"I don't either," his heavy tongue manages to say.
They're staring at each other, and she looks so incredible in this light, shining with a glow that's practically bathing him in warmth. He steps closer to her, and the world stills. It feels like there's a symphony of sounds surrounding him – his heartbeat steady in his chest, the deep sound of his breathing, the strange quiet of the snow falling outside the window. He can hear her breathing, see the rise and fall of her chest, and her eyes dart across his face with earnest.
He wonders if he should kiss her. All he can do it stare at her soft, slightly parted lips, and he wants to so bad it's making his fingertips tingle. It's almost like he can feel her absence – he can feel how much heisn'ttouching her. He wants to pull her close so badly he aches.
"Oh," she breathes, "that's good."
"Yeah." He murmurs. "I know we haven't, like, talked about it yet. I'm thinking maybe we should…figure this out a little bit?"
He knows his cheeks are probably burning. He's been trying to keep the memories of their phone call at bay, because he hasn't wanted it to colour any of their interactions with things they – or she – might not be ready for. And, okay, maybe he's thought about them a lot in more private settings…but that's something else entirely.
She nods. "That's probably a good idea."
There's a pause, and then she takes a deep breath.
"So… did you really think about doing all those things to me? For a long time?"
I want to fuck you so hard that you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from screaming.
Jesus, he really did actually say that to her. He can remember the whimper she let out when he'd said it, and he gulps, trying to concentrate on having this serious and necessary conversation. But it's quite difficult when she's staring up at him with those eyes, andoh godnow she's biting her lip. He wonders if she's doing this on purpose, to torture him. Because it's definitely working.
"Yes. Yes I did." Oh god, he's talking now, it's just coming out in a stream and he can't stop it. "I meant everything I said. And I'd…fuck, Nancy…"
He breath hitches when he swears, and he watches as her lips part just slightly. He wonders if she likes it…all his years of interrogating suspects have equipped him with a good eye for facial expressions and movements. But Nancy's always been a bit of a mystery to him – she's good at hiding her thoughts behind a mask. Right now, though, it feels like she's let down a sort of shield, and he feels like he's seeing more than ever before. Her eyes – pupils dilated, electric blue practically sparkling. Her lips, slightly parted. And her cheeks, flushed, just slightly, just enough to make him want to make her blush even deeper.
It takes a brief, scalding moment, for his brain to go frommildly hornyto:I want to fuck the absolute sense out of her right this fucking second,but now it's here and it's overpowering andoh my god she's biting her fucking lip.
"Fuck, Nancy," he says again, trying to translate his thoughts into words. "You have no idea what you do to me. What you'redoingto me."
He wants so badly to touch her, to grab her and pull her close, but he knows as soon as he does that it's over. He'll lose total control over the scrap of resistance that's left inside of him. And even though his dick is slowly getting strangled against the fabric of his pants, he needs to hold on, he needs to make sure this is something she wants. He needs her to know that this is more than their phone call, more than a fleeting moment of desire.
"I've wanted you for so long," he continues, running his hand through his hair to try and centre himself. "In every way possible."
She looks at him with earnest. "I…I've wanted you too. All those things you said to me, I just can't get them out of my head. I've…" she quiets, shyly, her cheeks blazing.
"You've?" He prompts softly, leaning in closer.
"I've…" she lets out a frustrated, exasperated sigh. "I've been so…pent up, and just…" she struggles with her words and he holds his breath. "I've been so incrediblyturned onand on edge and just every word out of your mouth is making it so unbearable. I can barelythink."
The thought of her being so turned on she can barely form a coherent thought makes him feel like his brain is on fire. And now all he can see is the heaving of her chest, the burning weight of her gaze, the fiery red of her hair and cheeks. God he wants to do such terrible things to her. He's never felt the need to explode quite this way before and he both loves it and hates it, because now his mind is running fast in one very, very dangerous direction and he's pretty confident there's no way for him to slow it down.
Then she steps forward, placing a hand gently on his chest, pulling nervously at the tie of his hoodie. She looks up at him, her eyes wide, and she bites her lip.
He groans. He actually groans. Oh holy fucking hell.
"All I can think about is what I want you to do to me. What you said you would do to me."
She has always had him in the palm of her hand, but now, he's absolutely hers in any way possible. His mind is racing back through every memory of them, of when this was something they never could have done, or hardly even imagined. And now he's here, with her in front of him, with her looking up at him with so much…so much trust, and hope, and desire, and he knows he has to say it. He has to. She has to know.
"You're the most…" he begins, placing his hand over hers, and relishing in the way she smiles at him with the movement. "Nancy, you're the most incredible person I've ever met. You…you're everything, to me, and you have been for a long time. You should know that. I have to tell you that."
She lets out a soft, whimpering sound that makes his knees feel like jelly, and he has the most devious urge to catch the noise in his own mouth.
"You're everything to me, too." She says, and it's like she's reaching into his chest and manually beating his heart with her delicate hands. "I've felt it, since we first met, and I feel like it's been building…thisthingwe have together. I can't stop thinking about you. I…feel so whole, when I'm around you."
He feels like he's just come up for air from a long, deep dive in the ocean.
"Nancy, can I kiss you?" He breathes.
"Yes," she gasps, her eyes gleaming. "Please."
Oh my fucking god.
It's so cliché, but he feels like time slows down as he takes another step forward, into her personal space. Lifting the hand that isn't touching her already, he notices it's shaking slightly, but he doesn't let that stop him from placing it gently on the curve of her waist. His other hands slides up her arm to her face, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, before tracing the curve of her jaw. She tilts her head up slightly, her eyes staring into his, waiting. Her breathing stills and the screaming voice in his subconscious goes silent.
And then he's leaning down, and she's rising up on her tiptoes, and they meet in the middle andoh fuck.
It's sweet, and gentle, andgod it's lips are so soft against his, and they're parted just slightly, so her bottom lip is notched perfectly between his. He tastes a hint of toothpaste, feels her smiling against his mouth, and his nose bumps against hers. The hand that rests on her waist feels like it's on fire, and the silken fabric of her gown bunches between his fingers as he squeezes just slightly. One of her hands comes to rest on his chest, and he wonders if she can feel the thud of his heart, because it feels like it's going to burst out of his chest.
It's the most perfect moment he's ever experienced in his life.
They pull back slowly, his thumb coming to graze her bottom lip, and her eyes are still closed as she leans her head into his hand. The space between them is just enough for him to be able to be able to look at her face, to savour this moment. Her eyes open slowly, and she's looking at his mouth, and then into his eyes, and then she's taking in every inch of his face as though he's a clue she's just found.
"Frank," she whispers. He tenses, just slightly, and he's terrified that she's going to step away.
"I think I need another. Just for evidentiary purposes, you know."
He breathes out a laugh, and then she's wrapping her arms around his shoulders, pressing her body against his in a way that makes his knees feel weak. His arm goes around her waist, lifting her up slightly, to pull her in even closer. And then she's pressing her lips against his with a gentle force that tells him just how sure she is about this. And he knows Nancy well enough to never doubt her when she's made her mind up.
She takes lead, tilting her head, getting an angle that allows them to slant their lips together and deepen the kiss. He takes a step back, pulling her with him, until his spine is against the wall of the alcove and her fingers are tugging at his hair. He lets her take control and he focuses on trying to keep them from tipping over.
There's a heat in the room that's become inescapable, and now he feels it surrounding them and enveloping them. He feels something like hunger tearing at his insides, and as she presses harder against him, he feels the soft curves of her body, and he hears himself moan into her mouth. All he can feel, and know, and understand right now is the taste of her, the warmth of her body against his, and the sound of her whimpering against his lips.
Holy fuck that's the hottest sound in the entire fucking world.
It's like that noise, the smallmmhmthat escapes her, ignites something inside of him because now he's got one arm around her waist and the other reaching down to slip under the hem of her nightgown and grab her soft, muscular thigh. Holding her against him, he lifts her leg just enough to be able to pull their hips closer together, before turning them so that she's now the one who's back is pressed up to the wall. She lets out a surprised yelp, but it takes a mere moment for her to press her lips against his once again.
And now she's using her leg to wrap around his hips and she's arching her body in such a way that means there's aholy fuckkind of pressure against a very desperate part of his anatomy, andfuck fuck fuckwhat little blood left in body is rushing southwards at a speed that's making his head feel all light a fuzzy and –
He's as hard as a fucking rock.
He hopes it's not as obvious as it feels, but at the same time, he can't help the absolute ache for more contact, more friction. There's the softest touch ghosting down his neck, his chest, going further and further until he feels her hand against his length, first gentle and a little uncertain, then firm andholyfuckholyfuck she's touching his sensation of her mouth on his and her hand on his dick is so overwhelming he finds himself burying his face in her neck, trying desperately not to finish right then and there.
"Holy fuck," he says, and he knows he sounds absolutely feral, but she way she gasps makes him think that she likes it when he sounds like that. "Nancy, if you keep doing that, this isn't going to last very long."
"You're so hard," she pants, and he can feel her throat vibrate as she speaks. And then she fucking grabs his dick andsqueezesand he's pretty sure he's just died and gone to heaven. "And so big…oh my God."
Oh my fucking godhe's dead. He's definitely dead. And she's here, in heaven, torturing him so sweetly and perfectly.
He has to distract himself from the feel of hertouching himand so he moves his mouth to the delicate skin just underneath her jaw, and kisses her. More devouring than kissing, with the way he's nipping and sucking, her breathy moans and "oh gods"spurring him on. He trails his hand up her leg, feeling the soft expanse of her skin, until he's gripping the curve of her ass and…and…she's not wearing anything underneath her nightgown.
He drags his thumb over her hip to be sure, and when he just met with skin, he unlatches his mouth from its place on her neck and moves his lips up to her ear.
"You're not wearing anything underneath?"
She shakes her head. "No – oh!" Her words are breathless as a growl escapes his throat and he squeezes her ass, matching the pressure of her hand against him.
"Fuck, Nancy – you're going to kill me." She grips him harder, and he feels himself throbbing at her touch. He wants to allow himself to let go, to find sweet release, but he stops himself. He's wanted this for so long he wants to savour it for as long as possible.
Trailing hot kisses along her neck and jaw, he arrives back at her mouth, and captures her lips once again. He's getting too hot – he feels like he's going to burn up with his hoodie on, but he's doesn't want to rush this beyond what Nancy is comfortable with. She seems to read his mind though, because suddenly her hands are tugging at the bottom of his hoodie, pulling up, and he gets the message pretty quickly.
He reluctantly pulls away from her to grab the back of his hoodie and pulls both it and his t-shirt off, exposing his bare chest. He's kind of glad that he's been working out more frequently, but all thoughts of insecurity leave his mind when she stares up at him and allows her robe to drop to the floor, leaving even more skin available for his eyes to wander. They both pause for a moment, taking each other in, and he feels his heart hammering against his sternum and his dick straining against his pants.
"Do you want to…we could, um, go over to my bed?" She asks, shyly, but her eyes burn into his intently.
Holy fuck we're going to fuck. Holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck.
He clears his throat and manages to nod his head. "Yes. Yeah. We can. If you want?"
She nods fervently. "Yes."
"Okay."
She pushes herself off the wall and walks over to her bed. Turning to face him, she sits down andGod she's so beautiful. He doesn't know what the hell he's done to deserve this, to deserve her. And he's sofucking nervoushe can barely walk over to stand in front of her. Which is kind of ridiculous, because he's not a virgin, but this kind of feels like it's different from all the other times he's been close to having sex – it feels like thisthingwith them has been here for so long, building, evolving, and now it's bigger than it has ever been before.
He feels overwhelmed for a moment, and she seems to sense it, which doesn't really surprise him because they've always been in sync in a way that felt like a lot more than friendship. She gazes up at him with a question in her eyes, and as she parts her lips to ask it, he knows the answer.
Even though he's always been more of a tell-rather-than-show kind of guy, he finds himself emboldened, becauseshe wants him.
He bends down in front of her and kisses her, and gone is any hesitation or fear. Right now, in this moment, it's just the two of them, and the energy between them feels like it's practically vibrating. She responds enthusiastically, pulling at the waist of his pants, tugging him closer until he's practically lying on top of her. For a moment, he hovers his body over hers, but then she's parting her legs and wrapping them around his hips, and they're grinding against each other in a way that's addicting andhot. An icy kind of fire spreads throughout his entire body, consuming him; he's gliding his hands over the curve of her ass, the swell of her breasts, and she's making suchintoxicatingnoises he feels like he's that perfect level of drunk when anything and everything feels possible and fantastic.
Spurred on by how incrediblyinto thisshe seems, he drifts one of his hands along the soft inner skin of her thigh, and the moan that dissolves onto his lips gives him the signal to continue. Slowly, he traces closer and closer to the apex of her thighs, his heart beating faster by the second. And then he cups against her heat, feeling her damp, coarse curls under his fuck holy yelps slightly, before grinding into his palm.
He wants to focus all of his attention on exploring her, and pleasuring her, and so he kisses her hard before pulling back and burying his face into her neck. They're both breathless, and he feels kind of lightheaded, but it feelsso fucking smells so good, so sweet, so fuckingaddicting.
He wants to feel her, taste her, and just surround himself with her. And just as he's about to do just that, there's the horrifyingly loud sound of a door opening down the hallway. In a split second, they both realize that the door to Nancy's bedroom is still ajar, and he's even more aware of the fact that both of them are in complete disarray. His heart jumps into his throat and he nearly shits himself at the thought of Carson walking in on him doing such terrible, dirty things to his daughter. God, maybe they were too loud?
Nancy sits up quickly, almost thwacking their foreheads together, and runs across to the alcove with a surprising amount of grace considering what they had just been doing. Somehow, she manages to grab her robe and throw his hoodie at him, all before the faint footsteps in the hall grow louder. Frank frantically puts the hoodie-t-shirt combination back on, and when his head pops out, he sees that Nancy has tied her robe tightly around her wait and in her hand is…a phone charger?
"I thought you couldn't find it?" He questions incredulously, trying to think about very unsexy, disturbing things to try and calm himself down. Which is kind of difficult when she's standing there, skin flushed, hair tousled, pupils wide and lips swollen.
She laughs nervously, "I, um..I knew where it was the whole time. I just wanted to talk to you."
"Oh, how sneaky of you" he smiles, and she beams.
"I'm pretty good at sneaky stuff, comes with the line of work."
"Frank?"
A new voice, Joe's, calls from just outside the door. Well, more hisses than calls. Frank finds himself relieved that it's just his brother, but also incredibly annoyed at the fact that he's just appeared and interrupted the most incredible experience of his entire that buffoon have worse timing?
His head is still circulating the image of Nancy lying beneath him, and his dick feels like it's protesting against his pants. He shoves his hands into the pocket of his hoodie and pulls it down to try and cover the very obvious bulge.
Fuck. Stop that. Think about…fuck…think about anything else.
"Frank, are you in there?"
The words take a moment to form in his throat, but finally then do. "Yeah, Joe, I'm in here. Nancy has a charger I can borrow, so I didn't have to go outside." Joe shuffles into full view of the door, holding his phone out with the flashlight on, and he looks suspiciously between Frank and Nancy.
"We got chatting," Frank supplies, walking over to Nancy and taking the charger from her hands, still keeping one hand in his pocket. She nods along as he continues. "Just about cases and stuff. And the plan for tomorrow."
"Uh huh." Joe looks like he's struggling not to roll his eyes. "I thought you'd died of hypothermia out there. Almost got me 100% of the Hardy inheritance."
Nancy laughs, and Frank's impressed at how quickly she's been able to pull herself together. It still feels like the majority of his blood is far away from his brain, and he's struggling to remember that he needs to focus onunsexy, un-Nancythings.
That time he chased a thief through a dump. That time he broke his arm. That time Joe asked him to pop a large pimple on his back.
Ew.
"Actually, I was just suggesting that we go over to Bess's a little bit earlier, so that you guys can catch up more. We could play a round of Clue."
Joe nods, still looking between them a little strangely. Frank clenches and unclenches his fists and takes a deep breath.
"Sounds like a plan," says Joe. "I gotta hit the hay, though, if I plan to out-detective you all. Goodnight, Nan. Glad you're not dead, Franko."
He turns and leaves, but not before quirking his eyebrows at Frank. Once he's out of earshot, Nancy lets out a relieved sigh.
"That was…terrible timing." She says, looking up at him with a glint in her eye. His eyes drift down over her lips, down her neck, all the way to her breasts, before he manages to claw them back up to a respectable location.
That time he ate escargot. That time he got trapped in a shipping container. That time he did a cold plunge.
He nods dumbly.
There's silence for a moment, before Nancy rises onto her toes and plants a soft, sweet kiss on his lips.
"I should probably go to bed," he mumbles when she pulls back. She nods, smiling.
"You're going to need a lot of energy for tomorrow," she teases, resting her arms around his neck. God, he could just stay like this forever. "I was serious about the Clue. But also…we could maybe continue this? Find someway to ditch Joe and have the house to ourselves?"
"That," he says, brushing his lips against hers. She lets out a small, breathy moan that seems to reverberate down his entire spine. "Would be excellent. You're so crafty, Detective Drew."
She grins, kissing him once again, before pushing him away gently. "Now go to bed, and I'll see you in the morning."
When he gets back to the spare room, Joe's lying in the bed, snoring loudly. He's stacked all the throw pillows in a line down the centre of the mattress – something they usually do when they want to be cheap and get one hotel room instead of two. Plugging his phone in, Frank sees he has three messages from Nancy, sent not even a minute ago. Crawling into bed, he checks it.
NANCY DREW: Goodnight :)
NANCY DREW: Also, I forgot to ask, but I've been looking for someone to kiss at midnight and I was thinking you might be interested in the job?
NANCY DREW: It's a volunteer position but it does come with benefits ;)
FRANK HARDY: Hmm…that does sound intriguing. Where can I apply?
NANCY DREW: Text would be appropriate, if that's suitable for you.
FRANK HARDY: Then yes, I would like to apply. When do you think I'll hear back?
FRANK HARDY: I'm quite eager, you see.
NANCY DREW: Typically it's an 8-10 business day wait.
NANCY DREW: But since you've already shown you have the skills, I can let you know you got the job :)
FRANK HARDY: Oh thank fuck, I was getting worried there for a second.
FRANK HARDY: Goodnight, Nance. I'll see you in the morning – maybe we should get in a bit more practice before midnight though, just to be sure.
NANCY DREW: That sounds like a good plan.