Chapter Text
In a small, out-of-the-world city like Hawkins, there weren't many things to do. The scarcity of recreation just became more obvious in times like summer break, when all the energetic kids and bored teens would do anything to get out of a house full of parents.
It wasn't a surprise that the whole town would reunite somewhere like the brand new attraction: The Starcourt Mall. Parents would feel safe enough to let their kids run around, while the young folks would wander with their friendship groups under a pseudo sense of independence, even though they were just sharing gossip about school and watching movies. All wrapped in the first mall in Hawkins.
The amount of people barging in each hour only meant one thing: Steve Harrington's chances of bumping into someone he knew were more than high. It wasn't even just a mindless, what if kind of possibility, just a delayed fact. Sooner or later, someone would walk in, order a banana split, and get a good laugh at King Steve's decay.
And all that for less than minimum wage - how fun! He scoffed at his own thought, his mind running right into frivolous worries due to the lack of an annoying co-worker.
Robin had just gone out for her lunch break, leaving a bored Harrington behind. Sure, the girl was weird, but she was his only company. And she was funny, even though most of her jokes were directed at him. Steve would even dare to say that Buckley was becoming his friend, but, as much as she was irritating at times, at least he had someone his age to talk to.
The former jock sighed, back turned to the counter as he cleaned his scoop, while mumbling 'half of a man' to himself. His carefree minutes came to an end as steps echoed closer and closer, making Steve turn around with a plastic grin and the typical catchphrase hanging from his lips, but the words quickly went dry on his tongue when he saw her.
Nancy Wheeler. Nancy Wheeler at Scoops Ahoy.
Steve blinked, his brain slightly glitching at everything. How does an unusually slow day end up with his ex-girlfriend walking into him dressed up as a sailor?
He could die from embarrassment on the spot, dig his own grave and pull the dirt back on just to make sure he wouldn't have to look at her. Harrington could take the school's idiots making fun of him, or even losing a couple dates here and there because of the company's policy. But, Nancy? Seeing like this ? With a sailor outfit?! A stupid hat covering up his best feature? SHORTS?
His eyes went wide, mouth dropped open in pure shock. Wheeler seemed less dumbfounded to catch him there, but he could easily point out the surprise in the way she glared at him with those cartoon eyes, mouth contorted to the right side — an expression that swiftly changed into the corner of her lips slightly raised above. Steve knew that move too well, Nance was trying to hold back a laugh.
This is it , he pondered, accepting his fate. This how I die.
The awkward silence hung a rope over them, tightening. It seemed like Scoops Ahoy was the only quiet store in the whole hall.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Okay. She's started to frown, you gotta say something, Harrington.
“Uh, Nancy. Hi… it's been a while. What are you doing here?”
It was a dumb question, but it was the best he could do at the time.
Nancy didn't respond, despite her clear display of amusement. She raised her brows at his question, causing Steve to shake his head. Where was Robin when he needed her? He'd even accept getting another point on her stupid board.
“Can I have an ice cream?” she finally answered, the contained beam turning into a genuine smile.
“You are lucky, I think I have the last cone in Hawkins.” Harrington tried to keep the light mood, lifting his spoon playfully as he pointed at the options. “Chips N' Cookies?”
For a moment, Nancy seemed astonished that he'd remember something as silly as her favorite ice cream, goggly-eyeing Steve before she shook her head, declining.
“Uh, no,” the reporter-making pulled her clothes, suddenly seeming way less serene than before. “Do you have Mr. Misty Freezy?”
The haze of mortifying self-consciousness finally seemed to dissipate in Harrington's system; he returned his gaze to her, ultimately having his mind set enough to be able to focus.
And of course, she was the home of his attention.
Nancy looked as beautiful as the last time he saw her when he peeked through the door at the snowball from his car, watching her with the dress he helped to pick, yet unable to show off his matching suit. She was breathtaking, hair up and curly, bright eyes, and a smile that could easily coax the sun and the moon into a fight for its shine.
Now, the first time they were talking after the break up, she looked nothing like she did at the dance. Sure, she was still beautiful — it was Nance, she'd be pretty even wearing a potato bag. Nonetheless, her smile was rather reticent, almost phlegmatic after the light-hearted atmosphere that surrounded them not even 10 seconds ago. It was the kind of smile she gave a teacher when she got an B+, or when her mother asked her how her day was. Educated, not eye-to-eye. Still, what sent Steve into the red alert were her eyes: they were red, just like her nose and cheeks. Yeah, anyone else could've thought it was just the heat, but he was an expert on Nancy Wheeler— especially when it came to her sadness.
Turns out you don't forget everything you learned about someone after you break up.
He spent many days and many nights learning how to read into her melancholy, trying to wrap his mind around a way to make her feel better about Barb. It obviously didn't work, he just hoped Jonathan would be less of a shitty boyfriend than he had been, that he'd be smart enough to know what to say, when to say it, and how to say it, to get it right like Steve couldn't.
“Mr. Misty Freeze, sure?” Harrington knew that wasn't his place, he wasn't her boyfriend anymore. He shouldn't get to know which ice cream she tends to get when she's sad or to comfort her. But his care for her always got the best out of him because she was the best of him. Screw the obvious 'we are exes' limit lines that he shouldn't cross. It's her. “Nance, are you okay?”
Nancy relied on quietude for a second, considering how she was supposed to answer that. Pretty lie or ugly truth? It was uncanny how such a simple question made her tremble, an acidulous realization that Jonathan didn't ask her that, not even when she almost jumped out of the car as soon as she saw the mall. Not when she pressed her head on the car's window and let out one single sob after he pointed out how much of a delusional girl she was.
Wheeler cleared her throat, and decided not to think about this. As much as Jonathan's lack of priority tarnished her, her woe was related to something bigger than a boy, something that seemed to follow her everywhere.
Not being believed. At first, when she was a kid, Nancy wanted to be a scientist, and everyone laughed with affection at her yearning. She didn't understand back then why. At middle school, when she was nominated as an honor student and the boys rolled their eyes and said she probably just cried about her grades to a teacher, she began to understand. In high school, when not only her mother but the police decided to take the piss at her sexual life rather than to listen to her when she knew that something had happened to Barb, she refused to understand why. When every man in the room laughed at her for trying to do her job and acted like she was a mindless waitress, she couldn't deny why. The 'why' basically slapped her in the cheek.
She was a woman. Her dreams were just jokes to men like her bosses, and to most of the people she had met throughout her life. Everything they doubted about her wouldn't even be a passing question if she was a guy. The book of rules to people like her wasn't even a footnote to a man, and assholes like the Hawkins's Post editors were just making it more evident.
It didn't mean it hurt any less to understand that misogyny was behind 'harmless' jokes. It didn't mean it didn't sting when she saw how they treated Jonathan, who started at the same time as her. It didn't mean it didn't sit with her that her own boyfriend didn't see a problem with it, saying it was just "real world.” Somehow he had the nerve to say she lives in a bubble?
It didn't mean that she wasn't on the verge of breaking apart because what if it is like that everywhere? If she wasn't able to keep a job at a small paper like the Hawkins Post, how was she gonna be tough enough to do it somewhere else? What if no one believed her? Just like girlhood again, just like Barb again.
“Nancy, are you okay?”
Steve's voice broke her self-pity spiral just in time. Looking at him like this almost lightened her up a little, and she was convinced it was only because of his… peculiar costume. Wheeler couldn't say she didn't know he was working here— Mike and his friends would brag about how they can get into any movie and get free ice cream all the time , despite her brother rolling his eyes whenever Lucas mentioned how nice it was that Steve covered them up. However, she wasn't expecting to see him like that: in a sailor uniform and a very cute hat. Steve looked absolutely adorable, cheek squeezing level. Plus, it was funny enough to cause a subtle smile out of her battered expression.
Nancy didn't ask herself why she came here when Jonathan drove past Burger King (the best milkshake in Indiana) and Benny's ice cream shop (where she has a discount) before the mall. She didn't wonder why her feet brought her here when her mind was a blur of messy thoughts tangled altogether at an alarming rate.
She just watched Steve instead, and the beginning of a smile came into her face easily. Bless his little sailor outfit. And did her best to lure herself into believing that thinking her ex looked cute in a silly costume wasn't a big deal.
“Nancy?”
“Yes, I am,” she said, but the frown between Steve's brows only grew deeper. “I'm okay, really.”
“You don't seem okay.”
There was an ambivalent amount of emotions creeping out there. A slight annoyance that he'd know it with so much certainty, which was just a poor disguise for the endearing fondness that almost suffocated her from inside out to know that someone saw and cared— God knew she needed that today. And then, a worry from teenage hood that almost makes her blush; this was the first time they were talking to each other after they parted ways, since he let her go, and she probably looked like a mess.
Absentmindedly, Nancy adjusted her hair, then moved her hands to her dress. They might have broken up forever ago (just a couple months), but she knew Steve enough to be aware that he wouldn't drop it, and honestly, today had had enough arguments. The young girl simply darted her gaze away with a shrug.
“I got fired.” It was the first time she said it out loud, the words left a bad taste in her mouth as if she was being poisoned by her own impotence. The overcoming spite of defeat eating her alive, making her feel small.
Nancy wasn't used to not being able to accomplish something. She was a perfectionist, after all.
When Steve didn't answer, she gathered the courage to seek his eyes. Well, people were going to look at her with pity, thinking that the little girl bit off more than she could chew and couldn't even keep a summer job. So, she’d better start with Steve Harrington.
Though, as Nancy glanced at him, Steve wasn't wasting poor you niceties. Instead, he put a concerning but welcoming amount of Mr. Misty Freeze ice cream on a cone, pushing it down to keep on piling up more scoops. She blinked in surprise, and shook her head when she caught him picking apart green and red M&Ms for her.
“There you go, Mr. Misty Freeze and M&Ms.” He handed her the cone, their fingers lightly touching as she grabbed it, making her look away just in time not to see his gaze coming to her hands. Nancy leaned in to get a spoon, ready to thank him and make her way out of there before she could embarrass herself more when Steve pretended to check a nonexistent watcher on his wrist. “And it's my lunch break! We could talk about it, or about how I'm absolutely never reading the Hawkin's Post ever again.”
Nancy lifted her eyebrows, a playful voice answering him, “Steve, the Hawkins Post is the only paper in Hawkins.”
“I won't read the news then. Who cares about who's the president anyway?” he shrugged, “Or I'll just watch it on the TV, like old people do.”
Nancy didn't know why her first instinct was to come to the only place where she knew Steve Harrington was most likely to be at, but right now she was thankful for that.
Especially when he jumped the counter, almost falling, a boyish grin on his lips that's just the same as when he called himself a ninja after tripping through her window— Nancy wouldn't put it past him to call himself that again, but something else caught her eye. Now that he wasn't behind the counter, she was able to see his outfit completely. Those shorts.
She couldn't help but burst into a laugh through Steve's 'come on, Nance. It's not that bad!' complaints.
.