Work Text:
DING-dong!
...Ugh.
Nancy has been curled up on her couch in River Heights, staring at the tv for the last 8 hours or so. As a matter of fact, the only movement she’d made all day was to waddle her way down the stairs from her bedroom, grab a light breakfast and collapse onto the couch. For the next 8 hours (in case you missed that part).
Her eyes flit over to the antique clock on the cabinet next to the fireplace as she begrudgingly stands up; 6:40pm. Had she really not eaten since breakfast?
She sniffles, whipping a tissue out of her decorative turquoise tissue box and giving her nose another wipe. This cold has been going on for about 3 days now, and Nancy is dying to know when it will ever end, because she feels like she’s dying. She rarely gets sick, either, so when she does, it hits her like a greyhound bus.
“Who on earth is this?” Nancy grumbles to herself as she shuffles over to the front door. Her father and Hannah were both away for the weekend, which was all the better, Nancy supposes; it gives them less exposure to whatever this germ is that’s hijacked her immune system.
With one hand on the door handle, she swipes at her nose one last time before pulling the door open to find… Joe Hardy?
The younger Hardy brother gives her that goofy little sideways smile of his and lifts an arm, carrying a clear plastic carryout bag, out to her. “Soup delivery.”
She blinks in surprise. “Soup delivery?” she repeats, stepping aside just enough so that he can come inside if he chooses, which he does.
“At your service.” he takes a few steps further into the entryway, shaking a little excess water off of his dark brown jacket. It hadn’t rained all day in River Heights or surrounding areas, and there was just a barely-there dusting of snow on the ground, so as well as taking into consideration the time of year, Nancy deduces that it must have been snowing in Bayport.
“Let me take your -” Nancy starts to offer to hang up his coat, but then she glances down at the used tissue that’s currently crumpled up in her fist and a dry chuckle fills the space, “- well, never mind.”
He cracks another grin, “I got it.”
After Joe puts away his jacket and the two of them amble back into the living room, Nancy watches in bewilderment as he fluffs the side pillows and readjusts the throw blanket that was sloppily piled into a heap on the sofa. When he’s done, he gestures to the spot he’s just made up, which Nancy accepts with a furrowed brow. “What’s gotten into you? What are you even doing here?”
Joe shrugs, bashfully scratching the back of his neck, “I don’t know - I was in the area.”
“You came from Bayport.”
“What? How could you tell?”
“The melted snow on your jacket.”
“W- well, that could’ve just been... a sprinkler. Or a passing rainstorm. I mean, you’ve been cooped up in here all day, how could you really know if it was raining or not?!”
“Joe.”
He laughs. “Aw, I’m just kidding. I came because I was already bored today, and you said in your text that you weren’t feeling well. So I thought I’d come check up on you.”
Nancy, once again, blinks in surprise. It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate such a nice gesture, but it seems so out of nowhere - when was the last time she’d seen Joe without Frank? The more she ponders on it, the more she wonders, has she ever seen Joe without Frank? This was a peculiar thought that led her to ask her next question.
“Is Frank with you?”
“Ah, no. He doesn’t know I came. He thinks I’m at Chet’s house. So maybe... don’t mention this to him? I just - don’t want to get caught in a lie or anything.”
Nancy giggles a little bit, “Then why lie?”
Joe, exasperated, lets out a frustrated sigh, but Nancy is perceptive enough to tell that he isn’t upset. “Are you going to let me give you your soup, or not?”
Nancy shrugs, “Okay. Go ahead.”
“Thank you,” Joe says with the inflection of the drama queen he truly is, bending over to unpack a medium plastic container from the bag. He sets it on the coffee table along with a plastic wrapped spoon while Nancy blows her nose.
“It’s chicken noodle - I was going to get you some clear soup, but I couldn’t find an Asian restaurant between here & Bayport with a Yelp rating higher than a 2.7 - how depressing is that?!”
“Very sad!”
“So, I just went with the ol’ standby. Hopefully you don’t mind.”
Nancy looks at him with a sleepy expression that she can tell isn’t reminiscent of her usual perky self, “Are you kidding? I love chicken noodle.”
“Better than clear soup?!” Joe says in shock.
“Well, I mean, nothing can beat Hannah’s homemade chicken noodle... but I’m sure this is fine.” Nancy sucks in a deep breath, which leaves her a little lightheaded for a moment, but as soon as it passes she gazes up at her friend.
“Thank you, Joe. I really mean that.”
She feels like absolute garbage, but she musters up every bit of energy she has left in an attempt to express the genuine sincerity with which she means that.
His eyelids drift closed and he bobs his head forward in a slight nod.
“You’re welcome.”
A moment passes while Nancy reaches for her spoon, stabbing it against the hardwood surface in front of her to pierce the outer wrapping. Meanwhile, Joe’s eyes wander around the room and eventually land upon an empty glass hiding behind the discarded carryout bag.
“Nancy! You need to hydrate!”
As he leaps for the glass, Nancy can’t help but laugh out loud at his words. “Really, Joe? You sound like Frank.”
“I AM NOT MY BROTHER! How dare you call me out like this!” he hollers in an offended tone, disappearing into the back hallway to refill her glass in the kitchen.
This was certainly turning out to be an odd night.
Nancy shakes her head and picks up the TV remote, flipping through the channels until she lands on something that catches her interest; a crime documentary detailing the life, irreparable actions, and eventual identification of the Golden State Killer. She dips her spoon into the bowl of soup just as Joe returns with some fresh water and a dorky twinkle in his eyes, “Straight from the kitchen sink.”
“Thanks,” says Nancy, eyeballing the 25-year-old as he catches sight of what’s playing on the TV.
“Ooh, is that a crime show?! Heck yeah!” Joe flops excitedly onto the opposite end of the couch, his face alight with admiration, “Y’know what, Nancy? Even when you’re sick you’re the best kind of person.”
She blushes a little; she’s always been shy when receiving compliments. She reaches for another tissue. The two of them become completely engrossed, watching and chatting enthusiastically until finally (and miraculously, in Nancy’s case), they fall asleep.
-+-+-+-
It’s still dark outside when Nancy begins to stir. It takes her eyes and her brain a few moments to adjust, but once she’s fully aware of her surroundings, she jumps at the realization that her head has been softly nuzzled into the side of Joe’s hip. As soon as she’s upright again, her nose starts running and invasive TV ads are blaring in her ears and Joe begins waking up all at once.
Nancy blindly reaches for the remote to decrease the TV’s volume, but in her uncoordinated state, she misses entirely and knocks over the plastic soup container. “Shoo-oot!”
Joe’s eyebrows lift when he hears the commotion that’s happening on his right; what little bit of soup still remained in the bowl has now spilled onto the brand new rug Hannah bought for the living room. The only solace Nancy had was seeing what a small amount of liquid had actually stained, but even then! She felt awful. Hannah had spent half an afternoon picking that out.
“Oh no, Hannah will be so disappointed!” Nancy murmurs.
By this point Joe is already up from the couch and is bounding into the kitchen to collect a paper towel roll. Nancy feels utterly useless sitting there staring at the floor until her friend returns to help clean up the mess, which they manage to get done together.
“There we go,” Joe says at last, and although he had eagerly gotten up to take care of the spill, his tired voice betrays his behavior. “That should do it. Nice job, pardner.”
Stretching her sore muscles, Nancy sighs and lets out a groan; since her sudden awakening, her head feels stuffier than before, saddling her with this annoying ache that occasionally pounds at her cranium. Still, she sniffs and responds to Joe’s lighthearted comment, “You too. Pardner...” Her voice trails off at the end a little. Joe notices that her eyes are closed now.
He looks down at his phone to check the time; 1:21AM?! Dang it. He’s going to have to tell Frank something. He's never spent the night at Chet’s house a day in his life - Frank will never believe him if he says that he crashed there. But then Joe decides that it doesn’t really matter. Or maybe he just doesn’t care. It’s late, and he’s exhausted, and he doesn’t regret getting to spend a few hours with one of the people he reveres most in the world - even if she, perhaps, couldn’t enjoy it to the same degree.
But then, almost as if reading his mind, Nancy speaks in a quiet voice, “Thanks again for the surprise visit, Joe. I can’t tell you how much I needed this.”
Joe nods his head a few times, staring at Nancy with a small quirk of a smile. “Anytime.”
Well, he thinks, I wish that were true. It would be true if not for the 4 hour drive I have to look forward to now. Goodie. If Bayport weren’t so dang far away from Nancy’s quaint hometown of River Heights, Joe has a feeling that both he & Frank would be seeing a lot more of their favorite fellow detective. But sometimes, kids, life sucks.
Joe clears his throat and goes to collect the trash from this soup adventure of theirs, but Nancy stops him with a grateful shake of her head.
“No, no, I’ll take care of it. You’ve got a long drive ahead of you.”
“Are you sure you can handle it?”
“I’m sick, Joe, I'm not on my deathbed. I can handle it.”
Joe nods, chuckling because it’s so very Nancy of her. “Sorry.”
They make their way back to the front door where Joe’s jacket hangs alone, but just as he’s about to pick it up off the hook he hears Nancy’s weakened voice say, “Hey.”
He turns to look at her and can tell she’s on the verge of asking him something; lips slightly parted, uncertain stance indicating a feeling of hesitation. His training for ATAC back in the day had taught him a lot about reading body language, which is something he loves to apply in his everyday life. Can really give you a lot of insight.
But suddenly her mouth closes again, and she reaches up to warm both her arms which have now grown goosebumps. She shakes her head with a light smile, “Never mind. Drive safe, okay? And text me so I know you’re home!”
Joe, ever curious about things he doesn’t understand but also very familiar with Nancy as a person, chooses not to inquire about what it was she wanted to say, despite how much he wants to. Nancy is stubborn; she won’t tell him now that she’s made up her mind not to. So instead he gives her another smile in return, and he can tell that the exhaustion that lines Nancy’s face is mirrored in his own.
“You got it, pardner. Goodnight.”
“Night.”
As Nancy closes the door behind him and turns the lock, she attempts to clear up the foggy haze in her mind. It’s no secret to her that the state of her health is affecting her ability to think clearly, let alone how doggedly tired she is; she wishes she could fully process all the events from tonight, but her stupid brain simply doesn’t want to function when she feels this awful. She pads into the living room where her darkened phone lies next to Aunt Eloise’s old analog clock, unlocking it with a quick swipe and tap of her passcode. The screen is already illuminated with what she was looking for, which is the text conversation of hers & Joe’s from around 1 that afternoon.
J: hey Nance! How goes it? Any big cases pop up for you lately?
N: No, unfortunately I’m stuck at home with one of the worst colds I’ve had in a very long time. 😕 How are you?
J: aw man! that’s no fun! 😟 I’m sorry to hear that.
J: I don’t feel like it would be very considerate of me to tell you that Frank & I just scored one of the most promising cases of our young careers…
J: but… you know, you asked.
N: 🙂 that’s great, Joe! Where are you guys off to?
J: Barcelona! We got a tip from one of dad’s colleagues that there’s this really creepy serial killer out there. All female victims, and the guy always leaves a rose with a slip of paper, “mi amor”. Police are scratching their heads, as usual
J: as usual for these kind of cases at least
N: Wow, that sounds so exciting! Have fun and stay safe you two!
N: When do you leave?
J: Our flight takes off tomorrow night
N: Oh, awesome. Well keep me posted! I’d love to help in any way I can!
J: As if we would have it any other way!
That last message had made her grin a little the first time she read it - it was just so very Joe of him. Hearing about this case of theirs really invigorated Nancy’s adventurous spirit, and she wishes more than anything that she could join them on this journey - but alas, her immune system had other plans for her. She internally smacks herself on the head at the fact that she almost asked him such a ridiculous question - that if he wanted to avoid the drive home, he could simply stay here overnight and take her with him to join Frank at the airport tomorrow. She could easily purchase a plane ticket before tomorrow night, she had thought in her sleepy haze, before recognizing what an outlandish idea that was. She’s way too sick to go off on a case, and she wouldn’t want to intrude anyway. Plus, if he had stayed, where would he sleep? Nancy certainly wouldn’t want to confine him to sleeping on the couch, but the Drew home doesn’t have a guest bedroom and it just felt… wrong to let someone else sleep in her dad’s or Hannah’s bed while they’re away.
Or…
She briefly – VERY briefly – considers the glowing warmth and selfish comfort it would provide to have another person stay at her side for the night.
…Goodness, I’m really out of it.
It’s both a weird thought and a dumb one, because Joe is just a friend and she doesn’t want to get him sick. It’s at this point she checks to make sure she doesn’t have a fever, though she’s quite sure the feeling is simply from the congestion in her head.
Altogether, the whole thing was a poorly thought out proposal by a confused, debilitated mind, which is why she didn’t ask in the end. It was silly and she knows it.
She walks to the archway between the entry and the living room and lets out another groan, this one even more aggressive than the last; she needs to get some sleep. The trash on the table, truthfully, could wait until morning.
As she painstakingly climbs each stair one at a time, however, she gains enough clarity to register the fact that she was incredibly thankful to have a friend so spontaneous and caring in her life. Not many people would drive for 4 hours just to bring you a simple bowl of soup.
Her eyes fall closed as she trods towards her bedroom door, only a few feet in front of her now.
Joe is pretty cool on his own, she thinks with a yawn, it’s really too bad I haven’t spent much time with him - just him - until now.
Also… she’s going to have to ask him where he got that chicken noodle soup from. That was some really good soup.