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To be honest, Jonathan Byers wasn’t really her type, especially when compared to Steve Harrington. He was shy, anti-social, and more than a little shaggy while Steve was well groomed, extremely extroverted, and never hesitated to speak his mind for better or worse.
With all these things in mind, Jonathan really shouldn’t have made Nancy’s heart race the way it did. She wanted to blame it on her hormones. She was scared, alone in a car with a boy who was admittedly, more attractive than she previously gave him credit for, especially with his hair parted to the side. It wasn’t her fault if she sneaked glances over at him every now and then, drawing invisible lines over the contours of his face: his narrow nose, his sharp jawline made more pronounced by the way he clenched his teeth together. His features were more serious than Steve’s. Steve had a certain boyish charm to him, an innocence that was just now being weathered away. Jonathan carried the air of someone who had no choice but to grow up faster than anyone else Nancy knew.
Maybe that was part of what drew her in.
And then Murray had to open his big mouth.
“You’re young,” he said, “attractive, you’ve got chemistry, history— plus the real shit . . . shared trauma.” Murray looked at Jonathan with a kind of soft pity. “Trust issues, am I right?” Nancy almost wanted to laugh at how appalled Jonathan looked. “Something to do with your dad.”
“What? No.” Jonathan remarked in a defensive tone. “N-no, I mean—my dad’s an—”
“Asshole.” Nancy finished for him. She ignored the way Jonathan turned toward her with a look of betrayal.
Murray hummed. “It is a curse to see so clearly.” He looked pointed at Nancy. “You—” she looked up at him. “”You’re harder to read.” Nancy tried not to show how proud she felt. “You, probably like everyone, afraid of what would happen if you accepted yourself for who you really are and retreated back to the safety of—name.” He snapped his fingers at Jonathan. “ Name .”
“Steve.” Jonathan said quietly. Nancy shot him a scathing look as if she didn’t just do something similar.
“Steve!” He said mockingly. “We like Steve.”
“Yes!” Nancy agreed in exasperation. She did like Steve. He’d been kind to Nancy up until he essentially called her a slut in front of the whole town (which she was still pissed about), and since then he’d grown. He didn’t seem to feel threatened by every little thing.
“But we don’t love Steve.” Murray said. He’d leaned back in his chair, as if it was all fun to him. Jonathan refused to look at Nancy and opted to stare at the floor.
“N-no—that’s not. . . I do .” Murray was quick to point at Nancy.
“There it is, ladies and germs. The second lie of the evening.” He crossed his legs, looking proud. “So, how’d I do?” When they didn’t answer, he scoffed out a little laugh. “My goodness. You two are adorable, aren’t you?” Again, Nancy and Jonathan were silent. Then, Murray leaned forward to grab the bottle of vodka and rose to his feet. “Listen, there’s a pullout sofa in my study if you want it.” He began making his way for the stairs. “But if I were you, I’d just cut the bullshit and share the damn bed.” He disappeared to the second floor. Nancy found herself frozen in her seat. Jonathan felt so close, but at the same time a million miles away. He was staring at the floor as though he were trying to set it on fire. Her gaze fell to his hands. She watched his fingers, long and nimble, tangle together in anxiety.
Nancy wanted to say something, but she didn’t know what. She felt that whatever came out of her mouth would only make things more awkward.
Jonathan abruptly stood and mumbled something about going to sleep on the pullout. Another way he was unlike Steve. Steve would’ve probably offered to share the bed. Jonathan always seemed to let Nancy call the shots. He never did anything without checking with her first. He was so respectful it made something inside of her clench tightly.
Nancy dropped onto the bed in Murray’s spare room. “Afraid.” She said in disgust. She knew that Jonathan was only a few yards away and if she really wanted to, she could knock on the sliding door and ask him to either let her in or come to her bed. She wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t.
She wanted to know what he was thinking was all. Did he like her in a romantic sense? Did he really not trust her to let his walls down? Nancy crawled under the covers, but her thoughts were too loud to let her sleep. She tossed and turned.
Was Murray right? Was Nancy retreating back to Steve’s familiarity again and again? She bolted upright.
“Retreat? I don’t retreat.” Even if it was to clear the awkwardness between them, Nancy needed to talk to Jonathan. Flipping the blankets aside, Nancy scrambled out of bed and swung open the door. She tried to be silent, tiptoeing across the hard floors. When she looked up, to her surprise, Jonathan was coming out of the study, making his way to the bedroom.
They both froze when they saw each other.
“Hey.” Nancy said. Already, she could feel the tense air around them.
“Hey.” Jonathan said back. He swung his arms in a way that reminded Nancy of a small child. She took a few steps forward and Jonathan followed her movements. He stopped when she stopped, and then moved forward when she did. Again, she was reminded that Jonathan never did anything without making sure Nancy was okay with it. He always let her initiate first.
“I just wanted to say—” she paused, trying to find the right words. “I just wanted to say that—”
“No, no—I mean, he’s so drunk.” Jonathan said.
“Wasted.” Nancy agreed. Still, something inside of her felt like it was being strained, cracking. Was she hoping that Jonathan would initiate something instead?
“Yeah, I mean—he knows us for a couple of hours and suddenly he’s got us all figured out?” Jonathan crossed his arms, his shoulders hunching, and something about the motion was strangely defensive.
“Exactly.” Nancy tried her best to sound relieved, and yet she found herself wanting to cry. “God, okay. I feel—I’m glad we feel the same way.”
“Yeah! Yeah, it’s fine.” As he spoke, he hesitated when meeting her gaze, and the way he said it was fine made Nancy think of all the times her mother said it was fine that her father barely helped with Nancy or Mike. It was the kind of resigned acceptance that nothing would change.
The silence grew between Jonathan and Nancy, and he watched her expectantly. Did he want her to do something? Was he waiting for her to make the first move? Did Nancy want to make the first move? What should the first move even be?
Jonathan’s dark brown eyes were wide with something that looked like hope, but Nancy—
Nancy was scared. Okay fine. Nancy was terrified.
“Uhh, so . . . goodnight, I guess?” She knew Jonathan was feeling just as weird as her and she was grateful for it.
“Yeah, goodnight.” Jonathan’s tone was forcefully bright as he stepped away. Nancy opened the bedroom door and cast one last glance at Jonathan’s retreating figure. The warm lamplight had made the angles of his face softer, his eyes a little brighter. As Nancy scooted back onto the bed and pulled the pillow over her lap as if it would provide some kind of comfort, she realized that Jonathan had become familiar too. The warm spice of him, the heat that radiated off of him, the way he went about certain things so surely, even the way she felt so safe around him. Not necessarily safe in the way that he protected her, but safe in the way Nancy didn’t have to pretend to be somebody else. She didn’t have to pretend to be okay with things that bothered her, she didn’t have to be okay with sitting back and letting him protect her from demons and demogorgons. If anything, she protected him on several occasions, and not once did he make her feel bad for it.
Jonathan didn’t expect her to give him anything, and it made her want to give him everything.
With a new burst of confidence, Nancy tossed the pillow aside, slid off the bed, and marched to the door. She swung it open, ready to pound on the study door and demand Jonathan let her in—but he was already there. In the low lighting, his eyes were nearly black. His expression was impossible to read even when he swooped down and pressed his lips to hers, almost desperately. They were warm, hot even, and Nancy barely realized what had happened when they were pulling away with a quite smacking noise. Nancy almost didn’t know what to do; she’d never been kissed like that—kissed like Jonathan couldn’t contain how much he wanted her. Nancy’s heart was pounding, fire flooded her veins. She felt magnetized when she and Jonathan collided together again, her hands in his soft hair, his rough and gentle fingers holding her head. The air was charged and it felt like Nancy’s molecules would burst. Her skin buzzed, her head was consumed with Jonathan and she hoped he felt the same.
He pulled her tighter against him and that safety she always felt with him exploded into something more, something Nancy didn’t have a name for.
Through her nightgown, wherever Jonathan touched left a trail of fire over her skin. His pulse hammered under her fingertips, he felt restless against her.
“I’d just cut the bullshit, and share the damn bed.” This was it; they were cutting the bullshit. They stumbled back into the bedroom and Nancy slammed the door behind them. She only hoped that Murray hadn’t heard and knew what they were doing.
They staggered back all the way to the bed, Jonathan’s hands were all over her, but they never moved under Nancy’s nightgown. Nancy, on the other hand, was doing everything in her power to undress Jonathan. She tugged at his shirt until he finally broke away to yank it over his head. When he came back to her, he didn’t kiss her mouth. Instead he pressed his lips to her cheeks, her nose, her chin, the corners of her mouth. Part of her refused to believe Jonathan’s never kissed anyone before.
Jonathan was hot all over. Nancy ran her hands from his shoulders to his arms, enjoying the feeling of finally being able to touch the surprising bulk on his biceps. His torso was slender and lean, firm wherever her fingers skimmed over.
They fell back on the bed, Jonathan’s long body pressing her into the mattress. He pressed his lips to Nancy’s again and it was all over for her.
Nancy hadn’t curled up into Steve after their night together so long ago. She took the opportunity to do it now with Jonathan. She used his bicep as a pillow, cradled by his elbow as his arms curled around to play with her hair. His long fingers combing through her curls sent warm tingles racing along her scalp and she suddenly found it hard to keep her eyes open.
“I really like you, Nancy.” Jonathan whispered in her ear. He spoke in a voice softer than she’d ever heard before. The idea of a quiet confession made her heart swell. Nancy shifted her head to look up at him. His brown eyes widened when he saw her and the fingers in her hair stopped their movements.
“I really like you too, Jonathan.”
“I thought you were asleep.” He whispered.
“I was close.” She said. “You have magic hands.” Jonathan’s face went pink at the innuendo and stared up at the ceiling.
“You’re so gross.”
“You’re gonna have to deal with it if you wanna date.” His eyes met hers again with a new expression of apprehension.
“Do you want to?”
“I do want to.” Nancy said with a growing smile. “I want to very much.” Jonathan’s answering grin made her warm all over again. He pulled her closer to kiss between her brows then down her nose. She pulled him closer until he was hovering over her again.
The next morning was more than a little awkward. Nancy and Jonathan shared glances at each other from across the table. It was easy to keep it discreet with Murray’s back to them as he made breakfast. When he finally sat down and handed them their plates, Nancy could already tell by the way his mouth quirked up that things were going to get uncomfortable.
“So, Jonathan…” Murray pushed around his eggs and Jonathan stiffened. “How was the pullout?” Jonathan choked into his cup, a flush rising under his collar. Nancy stared down at her plate, desperate to not make eye contact.
“I’m sorry?” Jonathan shifted in his seat.
“The sofa.” Murray clarified.
“Oh. Oh, yeah…it was great.” Jonathan’s shoulders hunched to make himself smaller and his eyes flickered between her and Murray. He was so cute that Nancy tried her best to smother a smile.
“I bet.” Murray smirked. He brought his fork up to his mouth but the egg balancing precariously on the prongs fell on the table. “Oops.” Jonathan stared at her in a silent plea for help but she just smiled at him like it was the funniest thing in the world. When he saw she wasn’t going to help him, Jonathan grumpily shoveled his food into his mouth, refusing to look at her. Murray swallowed his food then turned to Nancy.
“Seriously, girl, he’s a keeper.” This time, Nancy didn’t disagree.
“Isn’t he?”