Work Text:
August 1992
Jonathan couldn’t believe Nancy had convinced him to see this.
She was in the city for work and had called him the other day inviting him to see a re-run of one of her favourite movies in a cinema downtown. When he’d asked her what movie they’d be seeing she’d been evasive.
“It’s quite subversive - what makes the film so special to me is that it’s fundamentally feminist at its core - although you don’t go in assuming it will be. Alongside a crystal clear observation on what it means to be a young woman in contemporary America who’s wrestling with her own privilege and how to make her way in the world, it also investigates themes of abortion and international politics. I really think you might like what it has to say.”
He’d shrugged and agreed to go, not asking any follow up questions. He had laid in bed that night and wondered which indie director it could possibly be, if it was one of the movies his roommate had been bugging him to see for years. It was unusual for Nancy to want to see such a thought provoking piece of cinema - she usually steered nearer the work of John Hughes. He had cringed thinking about the one VCR they had of Pretty in Pink that she made them watch again and again in the quarantine. He’d then chuckled to himself, maybe there was a reason they broke up after all.
Although perhaps her taste in movies had evolved with her. What he’d been struck by as he’d ran into the movie theater lobby out of the pouring rain was how radiant and adult she looked - despite the bucket of popcorn under her arm and a large fountain drink in her hand. They’d only normally go a month or two without seeing each other but each time he was struck by the fact she was this woman. Yes she’d always been competent, driven and beautiful - but somehow over the last few years working as a journalist, navigating normal adult life without interdimensional monsters she’d blossomed. It often made Jonathan weak at the knees and it took everything in his power to not tell her just that, and ruin their friendship that’d become indispensable since the break up almost 5 years ago.
But now he was questioning if even the friendship was worth it because this movie wasn’t a careful indie thought-provoking masterpiece, or even something by John Hughes. It was much worse.
He should have known by the way she was looking at him, full of mischief, when the opening chords of Be By Baby started up and the screen was full of men and women dancing together in black and white. He stared at her as if to say what and she grinned wider, waiting for the penny to drop.
He looked back to the screen, trying to work out what movie this could possibly be as the music began to build more and more - he looked back at Nancy who was still watching him with glee. But then her eyes flicked to the screen and she elbowed him in the ribs to look too, and there it was in a God-awful pink script.
Dirty Dancing.
He knows the look he shot her next was one of pure irritation and horror - but she just collapsed into a fit of giggles, stifling them in her hand as the woman next to her shushed her.
He wanted to be annoyed at her, he really did. She’d tried to get him to watch this movie again and again over the past five years - whether as a last attempt at a date night in the quarantine when she was drunk, or more recently at Robin’s Uncle’s house. But the absolute glee that was shining out of her eyes was something different, and he felt himself soften as he rolled his eyes and settled back into his seat prepared to watch this ‘feminist masterpiece.’
What surprised him most is that the movie was nowhere near as bad as he thought it would be.
At first it was that Jennifer Gray’s character was cute, and decidedly Nancy-esque, although this made some of the dancing scenes worse as he heard Nancy giggle when he got a little flustered. Then, some of the asides about 1960s politics were funny, and he loved the moment Baby poured a jug of water down Robbie’s front. But what got him next was Penny’s abortion, and the moving conversation between Baby and her father - and the soft, solemn look on Nancy’s face as she watched it. By the time other theater goers were dancing in their seats to Time of My Life he was almost having fun. The fact Nancy seemed to be having the time of her life helped.
Not that he wanted to admit any of this to Nancy. None of it at all.
_
But it was her, so she got it out of him eventually.
They were in Philadelphia. Steve and Robin had gone out to get more drinks, and he was doing the dishes. The radio was playing faintly in the background, but the opening chords to Be My Baby were undeniable.
He couldn’t help but smile, and moved the dial up just slightly, returning to the sink and letting his hips sway side to side in the process. That had really been a good day. Watching Nancy light up at the screen, and then the endless teasing to try and get his opinion out of him in a diner later. It had been one of those days that really felt like the two of them again - just Jonathan and Nancy against the world. He had long ago given up on her having feelings for him still, and often talked himself out of his, but that evening he’d laid on his bed and gazed up at the ceiling daydreaming about her.
“You liked the movie didn’t you?”
His reverie had been broken and he snapped around to see her, his hands dripping with water. She was leaning against the doorframe, her head tilted to one side and a knowing look on her face. As usual she’d seen right through him.
He opened his mouth to protest but realised there was no point. As far as Nancy Wheeler was concerned there was no hiding.
“I knew it!” she squealed, “I know under that pretentious facade you are immune to the powers of truly good cinema.”
She slinked nearer to him in a way that made his breath hitch, “You just needed someone to trick you into watching it.”
“I think your tactics were very underhand,” he managed to get out, a warmth rising up his neck, so he looked down and tried to distract himself by wiping the water off his hands onto his jeans, “so my opinion is hardly valid.”
“Jonathan, your resistance tells me that you loved it.”
“I never said I loved it!” he protested.
“Well, I knew you’d love Baby,” she said with a slightly wicked smile, “Remind you of someone?”
Jonathan felt glued to the spot - was Nancy flirting with him? And after all these years did she decide to flirt with him again because he liked Dirty Dancing?
“She perhaps resembles someone I used to know.”
Nancy reached up and started playing with the shirt fabric on his shoulder.
“You know, I think Johnny Castle reminds me of someone too.”
Now Jonathan was really frozen. The implication that he was anything like Patrick Swayze was both ludicrous and definitely flirtatious. He’d seen the way Nancy bit her lip when his character had been throwing Penny around the dance floor and kissing Baby in the cabin.
“You’re being ridiculous," he responded, his voice coming out breathier and quieter than he wanted it to.
She looked up at him now, her eyes wider than he thought they’d be, a determined look in them.
“And why would that be ridiculous?”
Jonathan awkwardly laughed, “C’mon Nance, we’re talking about Patrick Swayze, and have you ever seen me even try to dance? It’s not like I want to be like him, so it’s okay you don’t have to…do this.”
Now she scowled at him. He was very aware of how close they were standing.
“So you think I’m lying to you?”
“I didn’t say that -”
“So what am I doing then?”
“I think you’re…” the word flirting died on his tongue, “messing with me.”
“I am being deadly serious.”
He didn’t know what to say to that, so he just blinked at her as she crossed her arms and looked at him severely.
“Think about it. You, like Johnny Castle, come from a poorer background and have done your best to make your way in the world despite it. You’re a little surly to most people, but ultimately charming” Jonathan couldn’t help but laugh, Nancy’s scowl deepened, “well you’re charming to me. And yes okay you’re an awful dancer but you would do whatever you could for people you love and it doesn’t hurt that you’re both pretty easy on the eyes.”
He felt his eyebrows raise. Over the last 5 years the two of them had distinctly avoided any physical compliments. It didn’t mean sometimes they’d catch each other’s eyes and it was clear she was thinking he looked good just as he was thinking she did too. But those interactions were distinctly non-verbal. What was verbalised was always, great new suit or finally got your hair cut I see. But this was unambiguous and direct.
Now Nancy looked shy, she was looking down at the floor, pulling at the fabric on her upper arms, loosening the defiance of her arms crossed across her chest. She filled the silence.
“And it’s just, everytime I watch the movie I am reminded of a conversation, or well a series of conversations we’ve had over the years. About class. I know - like Baby - there are struggles I face because I’m a woman, and people underestimate me again and again. And trust me, being in journalism has made that clearer than ever. But as I get older I know I wasn’t fair on you. You were dealing with so much - looking after your family, bills, the mortgage, being scared Lonnie would come back or the Upside Down - and all I could think about was me. About what was right. Like I know if I’d have been Baby I would have got you fired too, I’d have been obstinate about the wallets. It’s probably a silly comparison but, maybe it’s why I like the movie so much. I’m sorry Jonathan. For ever misunderstanding you, and not appreciating what you were going through, how different our worlds could be.”
The apology hit Jonathan’s stomach like a cannon ball. He hadn’t thought about those conversations in years. Although he’d be angry, he never really thought at the time that Nancy was doing anything that wrong. Yes, he hated when she had called him Oliver Twist, or when she’d been so insistent on Emerson without a single thought as to how he was meant to afford it. But he admired her ambition and vision, and well, no one ever appreciated everything he had to do, so why should he expect her to? But time had passed, and lots of old wounds had begun to heal, and he knew at that moment he deserved that apology - he was just embarrassed to accept it.
He pulled her into a strong hug against his chest, and buried his face into her hair. She responded immediately, winding her arms around his back and clinging onto the fabric on his back. They stayed like that for a few moments, just breathing one another in, revelling in the new-old feeling of being so intimately close.
After a while he raised his head slightly and murmured, “Thank you.”
She tilted her head back to look up at him, “I should have said something a long time ago.”
He smiled at her softly and, without thinking, brushed a piece of her hair behind her ear. He watched her blush, and felt her hands grip harder on his back. She stared at his lips and he stared at hers, and he knew if he didn’t do something soon he wouldn’t be capable of not kissing her.
“You know I don’t think that’s the only reason you like that movie.”
She cocked an eyebrow, “Oh really?”
“I think you secretly wish you were on an all expenses paid trip to some all-inclusive resort in the Catskills learning the mambo.”
“No I do not!” she admonished with glee.
“I don’t know, I can see you now, stood at the front of the class, taking notes, practicing your steps in your room so you could show off to all the old ladies in the ballroom,” he teased.
She unwound herself from him with a devilish glare, turned off the radio and rushed over to Robin’s Uncle’s record player. She flicked through the albums, before gasping and pulling out the single of her choice. She made quick work of placing it on the turntable and dropping the needle - a skill that brought Jonathan joy as he knew it had been practiced through the years of hanging out in his room - and spun round to face him.
“You’re dancing with me,” she commanded.
“No I’m not.”
She raised her arms and gestured him in, “Don’t try me Byers, you know how good I am with a shotgun.”
The sultry notes of Eric Carmen’s Hungry Eyes filled the room. He couldn’t help but feel this was dangerous, but hoped his lack of dancing aptitude would make up for the song’s heavy handed romantic tone. He sighed and felt himself drawn towards her, “Only because I teased you so mercilessly.”
“The punishment fits the crime.”
She guided his hands to her waist and placed her arms on his shoulders. With great finesse she guided them through a few steps, through which he stumbled, and they both laughed. As they settled into a rhythm of what he couldn’t confidently call dancing he started to relax and listen to the music.
Nancy was looking up at him with great intent before she joined in with the record, her voice low but clear, “I look at you and I fantasise, you’re mine tonight. Now I’ve got you in my sights, with these hungry eyes.”
Suddenly there was no friendship, no reason he could possibly fathom to not kiss her. And all it took was one last look from her that seemed to say am I not being obvious enough Byers? And he swept her off her feet kissing her for the first time in so many years. Her arms instinctively wrapped around his neck and he pulled her legs around his waist and they fell back into place like muscle memory. She was warm and soft and better than he ever remembered, and he pulled her thighs closer into him and moaned as her hand raked through his hair. And then his brain caught up with his body and he lent back, her lips popping off of his and her eyes fluttering open.
“Are you okay?” she asked dreamily.
He put her down, trying to understand how that had just taken place, “I’m sorry I don’t know what happened.”
But she seemed unphased, “I do, my plan finally paid off.”
“Excuse me?” he spluttered out.
She shrugged, “I figured if Dirty Dancing couldn’t get us back together nothing could.”
“What?”
She placed her hand on his upper arm and met his eyes, “Look, there’s a lot to talk about, I know. But I refuse to act for one more moment like you’re not the love of my life. So please, dear God, kiss me again.”
Jonathan didn’t need to be told twice. And with Eric Carmen serenading them in a dingy kitchen in Philadelphia, Jonathan and Nancy finally found their way back together again.
_
In the years to come when colleagues on a film set would talk with derision about the romcoms of their teenage years Jonathan would do everything in his power to keep quiet.
After all, he owed his whole life to one of them.