Archive of Our Own ^beta

Nancy is no stranger to being lifted up and carried about like a sack of potatoes. She was practically attached to her mother’s hip as a young girl, and if she closed her eyes tight and really focused on remembering, Nancy could vaguely remember her father picking her up and hauling her around. In the early days of her and Steve’s relationship, Steve would often sneak up from behind Nancy and grab her from behind. She would squeal and flail about half-heartedly, secretly swooning at Steve’s strength.

It was an action that soon lost its novelty following the events of November 1983; Nancy no longer appreciated being snuck up on in the middle of the hallway at school, flinching each time Steve so much as made a quick movement of the hands in her direction. She was too on edge, Steve would say. Of course, she was on edge. Nancy would snap back; she had had one too many run-ins with interdimensional monsters, thank you very much.

The most Nancy would take from her then-boyfriend was a quick scoop-up hug whenever he scored a goal or won a game of basketball. Nancy would try to smile, try to relish in Steve’s strength like she did when she was 16. But it felt phoney now - less like Steve trying to surprise Nancy, and more like he was trying to show off his quote-unquote ‘perfect’ relationship with his seemingly well-adjusted girlfriend.

Point is, Nancy associated being carried about with A) childhood, or B) Steve - athletic, jock-ish Steve, who was undoubtedly well-meaning, but was often on Nancy’s last nerve. Nancy had not wanted Steve unintentionally creating an image of her as a weak, narrow-minded girlfriend who  had to constantly be carried about like a princess to her peers. It annoyed her to be thought of as dependent on her boyfriend following Barb’s “disappearance”; she wanted to be known as strong, and smart, and capable, and Steve’s handling of their relationship was not always conducive to that idea.

After her and Steve’s break-up, she thought her days of being swooped up like she weighed nothing were well behind her. Jonathan was certainly affectionate, don’t get her wrong, but he was loving in that quiet way of his; in remembering her favourite songs, or waking her up with a cooked breakfast the morning after one of their supposedly secret sleepovers, or encouraging her with the articles she had begun to write for the school paper. Jonathan cared so deeply in a way that wasn’t suffocating, but which allowed for Nancy to begin following her own dreams and passions without fearing abandonment or ostracisation.

Nancy loved that Jonathan had that deep respect that allowed Nancy to be independent outside of their relationship. She knew her boyfriend was strong. You don’t go punching cops or boys like Steve Harrington, or fighting monsters from secret worlds, without a little muscle. She was fine with Jonathan’s gentleness with her, though.

But. But… there was a little nagging memory at the back of Nancy’s mind. A memory of that night at Murray’s when Jonathan had kissed her with such heady passion, when Nancy had dragged him into that spare bedroom, where Jonathan had turned them around and grabbed Nancy’s legs to wrap around his waist as he pinned her to the wall.

Lord knows where he learnt to kiss like that. It had made her giddy then, and the memory continued to produce embarrassing amounts of butterflies in her stomach whenever she made the mistake of reflecting on it.

Nancy was a strong, independent woman who had battled real-life demons and taken down whole government agencies, but dammit, she would kill for Jonathan to scoop her up in those shockingly strong arms of his. It felt like it went against everything she had learned to stand for in that past year. But Nancy was quickly learning that, if one had the right partner - which she did - she was perfectly capable of being strong and sensitive. Jonathan was always endearingly vulnerable and open to her, so why shouldn’t Nancy be the same?

After that growing revelation, Nancy resolved herself to subtly baiting Jonathan into picking her up like a ragdoll. He wasn’t the type to do something so forward on his own volition, and Nancy would rather eat her AP Chemistry flashcards than commit to the mortifying task of asking her boyfriend outright. She may have been learning the value of honesty and openness with one’s partner, but Nancy still had dignity.

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It started at the Byers’ house. Upon getting together, Nancy was always at Jonathan’s house. Joyce would sometimes joke that she and Will routinely house-swapped; it was true, to an extent. Will, Dustin, and Lucas were always nestled in the Wheelers’ basement with Mike.¹

They were cooking together - well, Jonathan was cooking whilst Nancy took up space and watched diligently - in the Byers’ small, well-used kitchen.

“Nance, could you pass me the box of spaghetti, please? It’s in that top cupboard,” Jonathan pointed vaguely to his left. Nancy pushed herself up from her crouched position by the counter, but caught herself mid-arm-lift in retrieving the pasta. This could be it, she thought to herself.

Nancy sighed as exasperatedly as she could, clucking her tongue in faux-disappointment. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?” Jonathan was quick to react, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“Just can’t reach,” Nancy pouted, “Could you lift me?”

Jon’s brows shot up quickly as he snorted. “It’s all good, Nancy, I can grab it. I was just being lazy.”

Darn it, Nancy thought. She groaned internally at her disastrous attempt to goad the man beside her. At least she caught a sliver of his pale abdomen as Jonathan’s t-shirt stretched taut with the effort it took to reach his arm up.

Take two took place only a few days later. The two were taking Chester for a walk in the woods that surrounded the perimeter of the Byers’ house. The Byers had had Chester for as long as Nancy could remember. He was old and beautiful and could only walk short distances at a very leisurely pace, which suited both Nancy and Jonathan just fine. Neither of them were too keen on exploring the deep wood, especially so close to winter, where the days turned dark much too quickly, following their now several skirmishes with interdimensional beasts.

The conversation between the couple had died down naturally, and though Nancy was usually more than comfortable walking in companionable silence with her boyfriend, she kept finding that her eyes would frequently dart to look at Jonathan beside her. Perhaps this would be her next chance.

She sighed once. Jonathan kept walking. Perhaps it wasn’t loud enough. She huffed again. Jonathan gave her a strange look. “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing,” Nancy practically whispered in a manner she hoped came off as remarkably weak.

Jonathan whistled, signalling for Chester, who was trotting a little ahead of the two, to stop. “You humph when something’s on your mind,” he gently gripped Nancy’s upper arm, “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Nancy flushed. Jonathan was looking much too earnestly at her face with those stupid brown eyes of his. This was humiliating. But Nancy was nothing if not stubborn; she held down her position and proceeded with the plan.

“Just tired. Mr. Sadler had us running laps during PE today.” The corner of Jonathan’s mouth twitched up, and his head cocked ever-so-slightly to the side. Quick, Nancy, make the final blow!

“Could you carry me the rest of the way?” she pouted in an admittedly very unNancylike way. Jonathan chuckled to himself, turning back towards the direction of his house. “Nance, I’ve seen you run hundreds of metres with an eight-pound shotgun in your hand - I know for a fact you can make it the 600 feet back to mine.”

Nancy grumbled. Curse Jonathan’s common sense. Her internal cursing was put to a halt at the sight of Jonathan’s arm outstretched behind him, waiting for Nancy’s hand to slip into his own. Oh well. Nancy supposed some mild hand-holding wouldn’t hurt.

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The next time Jonathan picked her up, Nancy hadn’t contrived a plan for it at all. It was the boys’ Snow Ball in December of that year. Jonathan had mentioned off-handedly that Will had volunteered his older brother as photographer when the younger Byers had heard of the shortage of volunteers for the event.

“That’s nice of you for saying yes. You’re such a good brother,” Nancy had said as she and Jonathan chatted atop the hood of his car.

“It’s not like I had a choice. I can’t say no to those big, sad eyes of his,” Jonathan replied. He was truly awful at taking compliments. “Plus, Ms. Jensen said they’re handing out Extra Credit for any volunteers, they’re that desperate.”

“And still no one’s putting their hand up?”

“Nope. Apparently, no one wants to spend three hours with a bunch of pre-teens for some unknown reason.”

Nancy laughed. “Maybe I’ll apply to help, too. I’m honestly offended Mike didn’t volunteer me already. Little asshole.” Jonathan smiled and wrapped his arm around Nancy’s shoulders, kissing her temple.

“Maybe he thought he was doing you a favour.”

“Doubt it. More likely he’s trying to steal a chance at extra credit from me.”

Nancy volunteered immediately after lunch that afternoon. Mike initially whinged like a maniac upon finding out Nancy had volunteered, but eventually let up once Nancy had promised to pretend she was Nancy Wheeler, no relation to Michael Wheeler, for the entirety of the Snow Ball.

Prior to the Dance, Nancy spent hours painstakingly doing her hair and makeup. She knew it was stupid, but she wanted to look nice…for Mike’s family honour. And because this would be the first time she and Jonathan would get to dress up all nicely for each other. She had also been given the secret mission of getting El ready; Chief Hopper had shyly approached her the Thursday before the Ball, politely asking if she would give him a hand with Eleven’s hair, makeup and outfit. Nancy eagerly accepted, promising to keep it a secret from everyone - even Jonathan. God knew that little girl needed a bit of normalcy in her life.

After sneaking El through the back door, getting herself and the young girl ready, and assuring El she looked gorgeous, Nancy ushered the Hoppers back into the Chief’s truck and drove herself and her brother to Hawkins Middle. There, she was given an easy job - serving punch to the hordes of adolescents - with the bonus of being in direct view of Jonathan’s photo station.

The kids began to flock to the gym floor as the music began to slow. Nancy smiled widely at Jonathan, watching amusedly as twelve and thirteen-year-olds swayed awkwardly opposite each other. But before any plans of quietly making her way towards her boyfriend solidified in her head, Nancy caught sight of little Dustin, donning a head of hair that could only be the work of one man, sniffling to himself on the bleachers.

Nodding her head towards the crying boy, Nancy gestured to Jonathan that she’d be a moment, to which he smiled lovingly back at her.

After sharing a couple of dances with Dustin to the sound of Cyndi Lauper’s crooning voice, Nancy gave the boy a peck on the cheek, assured him that he looked dashing, and sent him back to hang with her brother and their friends. After ensuring that the group of six had returned to each other - the four boys with El and their new friend, Max - Nancy finally sidled her way next to Jonathan.

“That was sweet of you. I was about to throw my camera away and ask him for a dance myself, but I don’t think Dustin would’ve appreciated it as much.” Jonathan bent low to whisper in Nancy’s ear.

“He’s a good kid. Just needs a confidence boost. Girls this age can be so awful,” Nancy blushed.

Jonathan nodded. “I know. You were so good to him. Was El your doing as well?”

Nancy nodded. “Hopper swore me to secrecy. Sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Jonathan shook his head, brushing a stray hair behind Nancy’s ear. “Don’t be sorry, I get it. I’m glad Hop let her out tonight.”

The two teenagers looked at each other, Jonathan’s hand still curled behind Nancy’s ear, the latter gently gripping the sides of Jonathan’s blazer. She could feel his breath hot on her lips, but knowledge of where they were both situated, i.e., in a room full of seventh and eighth graders, gave them pause before doing anything.

Nancy looked behind her at the punch station: empty. Turning towards Jonathan’s photo backdrop, she saw there was a similar lack of children lining up. “Want to head out the back for a quick breather?” She asked him. Jonathan nodded eagerly. “You read my mind.”

Nancy gripped Jonathan’s palm tight and pulled him toward the gymnasium’s left-side exit. The air outside was bitterly cold, running deep into Nancy’s bones. But Jonathan lifted the hand attached to Nancy’s and moved his opposite hand to her waist and pulled her close. Nancy could see both her own breath and Jonathan’s, but she found herself decently warmed by the closeness they shared.

“Care for a dance?” Jonathan smiled as they heard The Police’s Every Breath You Take begin playing from the inside speakers. He drew circles on the small of Nancy’s back with his middle finger. A shiver ran up Nancy’s spine, though this time unrelated to the freezing cold.

“I didn’t know you could dance,” Nancy prompted, swishing her hips from side to side.

“You don’t grow up with Joyce Byers as a mother and not get forced to practice the waltz with her,” Jonathan answered fondly.

“I see,” Nancy grinned cheekily, “Well, I’m prepared to be amazed.”

Jonathan led a solid dance, pulling Nancy impossibly close so that she was flush against his chest. Nancy lay her head on his collarbone, breathing in deep the smell of Jonathan’s cheap cologne. It smelt so familiar; so safe.

Completely relaxed in Jon’s arms, Nancy was given a fright when Jonathan suddenly backed off during the chorus, lifted their connected hands, and spun Nancy around before landing in a low dip. Nancy gasped in surprise before falling into a fit of giggles.

“You impressed?” Jonathan raised an eyebrow. Nancy locked eyes with her partner. “Most definitely.”

Jonathan grinned even wider, hauling Nancy back up to standing and twirling her dramatically around. This, this was the feeling that she had been seeking out since Murray’s. Jonathan’s casual strength had once again caused an eruption of butterflies threatening to explode from Nancy’s stomach.

“What is Joyce teaching you?” Nancy wheezed delightedly.

“Just the basics,” Jonathan shrugged, leaning down to kiss her. His lips were cold and chapped and tasted of vanilla Chapstick. It was like coming home.

He leaned his forehead against her own once the song was finished. “We'd better go back inside before Mr. Clarke or Miss. Alter crucify us,” he said, spinning her around in his arms so that she faced the gym’s door.

Nancy spluttered in agreement, any attempt at coherence rendered unattainable by Jonathan’s shockingly suave moves. How dare he usher them back inside as if he hadn’t just set Nancy’s face alight! And how dare he carry her when she least expected it!

By the end of the Ball, Nancy’s mind was made up; she would get Jonathan to show his strength on her if it were the last thing she did.

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So, there she was, standing outside the Byers’ house at 11:30pm in the freezing cold, throwing pebbles at her boyfriend’s bedroom window like some cheesy romcom protagonist. It was a last resort - Nancy had forgone any bids at keeping her dignity by trying to subtly hint to Jonathan what she wanted. All attempts at implying to Jonathan that no, Nancy did not mind being thrown about a bit, had gone straight over the man’s head. He was too gentle for his own good.

Hence the rock-throwing. All part of a greater plan.

Finally, a dim light flickered on behind the window, and moments later, Jonathan's face, adorable bedhead and all, popped up. Though more grumpy-looking than usual due to his rude awakening, Jonathan’s face eyebrows unfurrowed upon seeing his late-night visitor.

Slowly, so as not to wake up his mother and Will, Jonathan slid his window upward and poked his head out. “Nancy? What’re you doing? I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

Nancy dropped the small pile of rocks that had been accumulating in her hand and held her arms behind her back as innocently as she could. “Missed you, is all,” she whispered. Jonathan, Nancy cursed any person who had ever wronged him, did not look convinced. She inhaled, ready to bring out the big guns. “I don’t want to be alone tonight. You know…Nightmares,” she trailed off, wincing internally. If a God did exist, Nancy hoped He would not spite her on the spot for perverting what was a very real woe between the couple to get her own way. Though guilt threatened to overwhelm Nancy, it was easier to lie than to honestly admit that she yearned to be looked after simply for the sake of it.

To her dual dismay and delight, Jonathan could not say no to that; his eyes lost that tired squint as he honed all his focus on his partner below him. “Oh, of course,” he replied quietly, gesturing his head to the right, “Come through the front, I’ll let you in.”

“No!” Nancy exclaimed as Jonathan’s head began to disappear back behind the window. Both teens winced at the volume and paused momentarily to gauge whether Nancy’s outburst had disturbed the rest of the house.

“I mean, um. I, er, saw the front light on,” Nancy’s face flushed at her terrible lie. “I think your mum’s up. You can let me in through the window.”

“It’s past six feet, Nance, you won’t reach.”

“You can lift me up,” she suggested quietly - and there it was; the pièce de résistance of Nancy’s solo production.

One of Jonathan’s eyebrows shot up incredulously. She knew him well enough to ascertain that he could sense Nancy was up to something. She also knew that he was much too sweet on her to say no.

Jonathan leaned the top half of his body out the window frame, his arms outstretched towards Nancy for her to grab onto. She gripped onto his wrists and felt his warm fingers engulf her upper arms. “Ready?” he whispered. Nancy nodded.

Jonathan began counting down from three, grunting softly as he hauled Nancy up along the boarded wall of the house on one. As soon as Nancy could just see over the windowsill, Jonathan moved one hand under Nancy’s armpit and wrapped the other around her back, gently lifting her into his room.

As soon as he was satisfied that Nancy was safely planted on his floor, he closed his window and wordlessly handed her a thick sweater from his wardrobe.

Nancy received it gratefully, shucking it over her head. Once she was settled, her boyfriend crossed his arms and shook his head questioningly.

“Are you going to tell me why you didn’t want to come through the front door now?” he queried.

Nancy bit her lip and blushed, looking with interest at everything in Jonathan’s room save for the man himself.

“Have you always had that Bowie poster? I’ve just noticed it.”

“Yup. Nance. You know as well as I do that mum goes to bed early on work nights.”

Nancy shrugged, chewing the inside of her cheek. “Will?” she mumbled.

Jonathan’s eyebrow seemed to disappear into his hairline as his jaw dropped to his chest.

Nancy sighed; the gig was up. “Yeah, I know, not my best work. I just…” she trailed off, scratching the side of her nose.

“Yes?”

Nancy squeezed her eyes shut, saying her silent goodbye to any shred of dignity she may have had left. “I wanted to see if you could lift me.”

“What?” Jonathan blurted, all attempts at quiet overruled by his apparent perplexedness at Nancy’s answer. Whatever he had expected her to say, it had seemingly not been that.

“Shh!” she waved her hands about, listening out for any sign of Mrs Byers’ awakening. “Don’t make me repeat myself!”

“Lift you up? Like carry? Is it some sort of fetish?” Jonathan asked. He was promptly slapped along his bicep by a furiously red Nancy.

“No! Shut up!” she hissed. “Forget it.”

“No, no,” Jonathan insisted, closing in on his girlfriend and gently pressing his hands against her arms. “I’m sorry I embarrassed you. It’s just that that was the last thing I thought you’d want from me. You’re so…”

“Pig-headed?”

“Determined. I would never want to, I don’t know, undermine you, by being too overbearing or something.”

Nancy huffed, staring imploringly into Jonathan’s eyes as she fiddled with the buttons atop his Henley. “And I so appreciate you being so considerate. But I don’t mind being…looked after. As long as it’s by you.”

“And as long as I still know who’s boss?” Jonathan grinned. Nancy hummed in approval, propping herself up on her tiptoes to give him a quick peck on the lips. “Exactly.”

Jonathan shuffled Nancy backwards until she hit the light yellow of the wall beside the window. “Is this a completely random request, or…” he trailed off. She wrapped her arms around his neck and shook her head.

“Murray’s,” was all she had to say for his eyes to darken; the memory clearly affected him as much as it affected Nancy.

“Is it all you think about, too?” Jonathan spoke in a hushed tone, his breath hot on the shell of Nancy’s ears.

“Y-yes,” was all Nancy could sputter out, “And then the Ball.”

Jonathan hummed, his hands grazing down from her arms, to her waist, then to her buttocks, before hauling her up by the thighs so that her legs wrapped around his waist. But as Nancy jutted her chin upwards, expecting a kiss, Jonathan leaned his forehead against her own in that heartbreakingly gentle way of his.

“Anything you want, Nance, you just ask me, okay? You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

Too late for that. God, Jonathan being nice was getting Nancy all hot and bothered. Was there something wrong with her? All she could do was nod against her boyfriend’s head before she closed the distance, kissing him hard and open-mouthed. Nancy was desperate as Jonathan pressed her against the wall and she pressed back, and he licked inside her mouth, and -

“Wait a minute,” Jonathan pulls back, hair sticking up in all angles where Nancy’s nails had raked through the strands. “Is that why you keep making allusions to being lifted up?”

Nancy hushed her partner, squeezing his cheeks with her forefinger and thumb and drawing him back down to her mouth.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

From then on, Jonathan obediently became more of a rough-houser - or at least, as rough as someone whose calling in life was cinematography and defending those he cared for. He wasn’t like Steve; Nancy couldn’t help but draw comparisons again (he was the only other boyfriend Nancy had had). Whereas Steve strove to show off by constantly drawing attention to his and Nancy’s relationship in the middle of the school hallway, Jonathan was quiet and gentle.

When they kissed, Jonathan would draw Nancy impossibly close, breathing deeply as if he were trying to memorise the feel of her body, the smell of her hair. He would groan softly as Nancy nimbly hopped up and wrap her legs around the small of his waist, arms holding her so tight it was difficult to comprehend where he started and Nancy began. He would come up behind her whenever they slept over, or were out in the privacy of the woods, place his hands on her hips and kiss the little spot where her neck met her shoulder. When she was sitting in the passenger seat of his Ford, he would switch between holding the gear shift and lacing his fingers with Nancy’s own. Jonathan wasted no time in ensuring that Nancy felt totally and utterly loved.

But that was in private, when the two were alone. At school, though Jonathan and Nancy were known to be a couple, Jonathan was careful not to touch his girlfriend. And though Nancy would have been fine with his sudden conversion to abstinence - she was by no means the biggest fan of Public Displays of Affection - she could not help but be a little hurt that Jonathan seemed to be entirely adverse to her. When she would practically skip to Jonathan during school, waving a test in her hand, delighted at her mark, he would simply squeeze her hand and tell her how proud he was, how he had no doubt Nancy would excel. Where was the affectionate Jonathan that she had been fortunate to meet at home? Jonathan had said he would give Nancy anything she wanted, so why would he not give her the touch that she so craved? Were the whispers and judgements of their peers embarrassing for Jonathan? Was that why he would only hold her, touch her, when they were alone?

So, a few days prior to Winter break, when Jonathan made to hold Nancy’s hand as they sat in his car to drive home, Nancy crossed her arms.

Jonathan, assuming she was cold (the heater had long stopped working in the Ford), simply raised an eyebrow and reversed out of the car park. Nancy made an effort to give Jonathan the silent treatment en route back to her house, the effectiveness of which was debatable; Jonathan was more than happy to sit in silence and listen to his mixtapes instead.

However, noticing Nancy’s stillness when they had pulled up to the Wheeler’s, as he unplugged his seatbelt, Jonathan cleared his throat. Nancy’s eyes darted to her side before returning to stare directly out the windscreen.

“You okay, Nance?” Jonathan asked.

Silence.

“I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

Nothing.

“Fine,” Jonathan opened the driver’s side door, “I’ll be here when you’re ready to talk.” That got Nancy’s attention; Jonathan’s stupid tenderness. Her arm whipped to take hold of Jonathan’s jacket sleeve. “Wait.”

Jonathan paused, carefully closing the door and shuffling around to face Nancy. The girl in question was turning alarmingly pink; independence was something that she was beginning to increasingly value, and getting pissy at boys not treating her like a princess in public was a desire that did not conform to such an ideal. Put frankly, Nancy was embarrassed by herself.

“I know there’s something bugging you, Nancy. You can tell me,” Jonathan said, enclosing the hand which hung onto his jacket with his own.

“Why do you keep like five feet away from me at all times in public?” she blurted out.

“What?” Jonathan exclaimed.

“After that night at your house, I thought I made…I tried to make it clear that I want you to touch me. And you do,” she gestured toward their interlocked hands with her free arm, "when we’re alone. But at school - "

" - At school, I keep my distance. I’m sorry, Nancy, I didn’t think you’d notice."

“Of course I noticed!” Nancy’s arms flew above her head. “You’d think I’d have the plague!”

Jonathan had the sense to look a little ashamed. He took Nancy’s outstretched hands in his own and lowered them to sit by his thigh. “Nancy, I’m a freak,” he started. Nancy immediately made to contradict his statement, but was stopped by a squeeze of her hands and the reassuring smile on her boyfriend’s face. “I am, Nance. People suspected me of killing my own brother, my dad’s in debt to half of Hawkins, and my mum’s the town lunatic. Not to mention I’m known for taking photos of you without your knowing. I mean, none of that’s ‘okay’, but I’ve made peace with what people think of me. But I don’t want that to impact you. You should be able to have friends and thrive at school, not worry about whether or not Tommy H. and his friends have stuffed your locker full of frogs from Bio class because you dared to date the ‘Hawkins High Pervert’”.

Nancy frowned; she couldn’t pretend she hadn’t heard all this before. Jonathan had always been an easy target for bullies, what with his shabby clothes and introverted nature. It had always been safer for Nancy and Barb to listen and observe the boy’s plight than to try and counter it. She had never believed what was said about him, though. Besides taking those photographs, which Jonathan had rightly been punished for, the Byers boy had never been anything but sweet to her brother, Mike, and herself whenever they had crossed paths.

“That decision’s not up to you, Jonathan. I’ve not waited for you just to enter into some secret affair. I don’t give a shit about Tommy H. and Carol, or Tammy, or Kimberly, or Billy. They don’t scare me.”

Nancy pressed her lips together. She had gone into the Upside Down, had battled Demogorgons, had taken down government agencies, and had saved Will Byers from the Mind Flayer. Teenagers could be cruel, but she had grown up significantly in the last year; they were no longer completely intimidating.

“I don’t want you to regret being with me, Nancy.” Jonathan looked away then, holding his hands close to his chest.

“I could never. Trust me when I say I want you all over me,” she grinned cheekily, brushing her knuckles gently along Jonathan’s cheek. Jonathan leaned into the touch. “I didn’t think it would bother you much, my keeping distance when we’re out. You don’t seem like the type for Public Displays of Affection.”

“You’d be right. But I wouldn’t mind some hand-holding here and there, maybe an arm across the shoulders every once in a while.”

“I can do that,” Jonathan took Nancy’s face in his hands and kissed it. “I’m sorry I didn’t before.”

“I’ll forgive you if we get out of your car. It’s freezing,” Nancy unbuckled her seatbelt as Jonathan barked a laugh.

The nature of Jonathan and Nancy’s relationship became much clearer to their school peers from then on. Jonathan had been correct in his assumption that by vividly illustrating their tie to each other, Nancy would have opened herself up to teasing and ridicule by her classmates. She was called the school slut, the Hawkins Whore, a lady pervert. Paper was flung at her back in the middle of class, legs were stuck out as trip hazards as she walked the school corridors, and some friends cut her off completely.

But Nancy was content; though she would never have another Barb, her real friends showed their faces in their refusal to leave her side as the bullying continued. Surprisingly, Steve’s ego had been taken down a few notches right before his graduation, and he had been sticking up for Nancy and Jonathan whenever his dickhead friends would attempt to bring up their new favourite topic of conversation. And Jonathan was always there, always checking in, always reassuring her. Besides, after the year Nancy had had, she was well aware that high school dramas were not the be-all and end-all; she unfortunately knew the world had much darker, more pressing concerns than that.

Now, when Nancy appeared by Jonathan’s side with an A+ paper in hand, he would bend down to kiss her temple and give her side a quick squeeze (that was all Nancy wanted from him - to know she was his). And then, when they were alone in the privacy of one of their respective bedrooms, Jonathan would scoop her up in his arms and spin her round and round in excitement. He would apologise for not congratulating her properly sooner, and Nancy would scoff and state she didn’t care; she much preferred this affectionate side of Jonathan to be kept all to herself.