Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Hey gorgeous…"

"What?" Frank turns around at the sound of the familiar voice, his eyes lighting up as they meet Nancy’s.

"How…What are you doing here?" he asks. They’re at a house party in Bayport, gearing up to ring in the new year.

"Dad and I were on our way back from Zurich, but our flight was delayed because of the weather so we missed our connection and since we didn’t want to spend New Year’s Eve at the airport we decided to surprise some old friends. And well, your dad told me I’d find you here and gave me the address. I hope that’s ok."

"Are you kidding? I’m thrilled," he greets her with a hug.

"Good, because I already sent the cab away," Nancy quips, squeezing him tightly before letting go. "So where’s Joe?"

"With the band. You know him, if there’s a stage he finds a way onto it. But let’s get you a drink and catch up."

They find a quiet spot and immediately fall into their old pattern of trying to one up the other with their respective adventures.

"That did not happen," Frank laughs.

"I’ll send you a copy of a front page article that says differently." 

"Please do! In fact, you should always do that,“ he suggests.

"Do what?"

"Send me articles," he shrugs. "I like knowing what kind of trouble you get yourself into." 

"You like to keep tabs on me,” she teases, giving him a little nudge.

"Talking of keeping tabs. Are you, I mean is there…" he starts.

"Yes?"  Nancy tilts her head to the side, a smile on her lips as she watches Frank struggle to find the right words.

"What I’m trying to ask is," he takes a deep breath. "Is there someone else keeping tabs on you?" 

"Are you asking me if I’m seeing someone?"

"You don’t have to answer," he backtracks. 

"No," she shakes her head.

"That’s fine, I was just…"

"No, I mean I’m not seeing anyone," she explains. "But why the sudden interest in my love life?"

"Well," he responds, a sheepish look his face. "It’s almost midnight, and I’d like to know where we stand so I don’t do anything that could get me into trouble."

She laughs, not sure if she finds his answer irritating or endearing – but isn’t that always the case with him? "You won’t get into trouble."

"I'm in trouble," Frank laughs in between kissing Nancy. 

"So much trouble," she jokes, arching into him, her hands on the back of his neck, keeping him firmly in place as they continue to deepen what started as an innocent midnight kiss.

It’s not their first kiss, but there’s something about it – maybe the circumstances of Nancy’s visit, maybe the celebrating couples around them, or maybe just the drinks they had been sipping on – that leaves them both wanting more. So for the very first time they throw caution to the wind and simply do what feels right until… 

"How do you do it? I leave you alone for a few minutes and you find yourself a new girl…" 

"Happy New Year, Joe," Nancy replies, turning around to face the younger Hardy. 

"Nance!" Joe's eyes widen with surprise. "How did you get here?" 

"Bad weather," she shrugs, leaning back against Frank whose hands are still on her waist.

"Well I’m glad, you skipped the bickering this time. How long are you in town for?"

"Uhm, I’m not sure actually…" Nancy replies, turning her head to look at Frank for answers. 

"Hey Joe, don’t you have to be back on that stage?" Frank responds.

"Fine, I see how it is. We’ll catch up later, make good choices," Joe complies, giving his brother an approving look that does not go unnoticed by Nancy. 

"So…" Frank starts. "What exactly are your plans?"

"Well it is winter break," she turns back around to face him, her hands now resting on his shoulders. "And you heard Joe, he wants to catch up…" 

Frank laughs. “And you know what they say…"  

"No, what do they say?" she tilts her head to the side.

"That the person you spend New Year’s with is who’ll you spend the year with," he blushes a little. 

"Well, between that and Joe I don’t see how I could not stay for a couple of days. If it’s not too much trouble, of course…" 

"We’ll see about that," Frank responds with a smirk, before he brings his lips back down to hers and they continue where Joe interrupted them and it feels familiar, comfortable and new and exciting all at once. 

Chapter Text

"One would think that a skilled investigator like yourself would be better at sneaking around."

"Mr. Drew, Sir I…" Frank stops in his tracks, an apologetic look on his face as he stands in the doorway to the Drew’s kitchen, dressed in nothing but a T-shirt and his boxers.

"…I thought everyone was asleep."

"And I thought you left after saying good night," the attorney gives the younger man a stern look.

"I swear nothing happened," Frank enters the dimly lit kitchen. "I just wanted to make sure, that she was ok. Today was…" he takes a breath, trying to forget the visual of Nancy tied up in the trunk of that damn Trans Am.

"I know," Carson’s expression softens. "It’s obvious that you care a great deal about her."

"I do, Sir. And I really did not want to disturb you."

"I was already up. You know, you’re not the only one who worries about her. Come on join me," he gestures for Frank to join him at the counter before he gets another glass from the cupboard and purrs Frank a drink. 

"…works better than a glas of warm milk."

"Thank you," Frank accepts with a smile. Sharing a drink with Carson Drew at two in the morning certainly wasn’t how he had expected the night to go.

"So, will we be seeing more of you around here?"

The young detective isn't quite sure how to answer that question, so he opts for the truth. "I certainly hope so, but it’s up to Nancy."

”Good answer, son."

"I try,“ Frank replies and they both take a sip.

"I trust you Frank."

"Understood," Frank nods, knowing that Carson’s approval doesn’t mean that the sneaking around is forgotten.

"Frank?" Nancy enters the kitchen. "What is going on?" She tilts her head to the side, trying to make sense of the scene in front of her.

"Oh, Frank and I were just enjoying a little nightcap," Carson explains, giving his daughter the same look that Frank had received earlier.

Nancy narrows her eyes, "Let me guess you were both so worried about me that you couldn’t sleep."

"Worried about you? Never," Frank responds jokingly.

"I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself," Nancy crosses her arms in defense.

"You are, but I do sleep a little better knowing that you have someone in your corner," Carson explains. "And Frank, I know Fenton feels the same about you."

Frank and Nancy both nod and exchange a tender look.

"But it is late and we should all go back to bed," Carson announces, emptying his drink before getting up.

"Good night Mr. Drew," Frank responds.

"Good night Frank," Carson turns to Nancy. "Night Sweetheart," he brushes a kiss against his daughter’s cheek.

"Night Dad."

"Oh and Frank…" Carson ads.

"I know, I’ll be on the couch."

"I was about to thank you for the good talk, but if you insist," Carson shrugs, a smile on his lips.

"He’s good," Frank whispers once Carson is out of earshot.

"Where do you think I get it from?" Nancy laughs, taking a step towards him. "But you don’t actually have to sleep on the couch."

"It's ok, I’ve made my couch now I’ll lie on it."

"Fine," Nancy responds with a pout, but the approval in her eyes betrays her.

"Come here," he leans in, giving her good night kiss. "Sleep tight Drew."

"You too Hardy." They share one more kiss before they part for the night, both sleeping better than they have in a long time.

Chapter Text

Valley Winter Song

"You ordered a knight in shining armor?"

"Please don’t gloat," Nancy looks up at the sound of the familiar voice. She’s sitting on the front steps of a five star hotel, her flimsy coat tightly wrapped around her, doing little to protect her from the cold mountain air.

"Hey," Frank’s tone softens as he takes note of her desperate expression. "No need to be embarrassed," he takes off his parka and drapes it over her shoulders before he sits down next to her.

"Thank you, I know I don’t deserve to be rescued, especially not by you but I barely have any money on me and I can’t walk through the snow in these stupid shoes. God, you must think I’m the biggest Idiot…"

"Second biggest," he cuts her off. "Brooks is number one."

That gets a chuckle out of her.

"Do you want to talk about it?” Frank inquires.

"Long story short, you were right. We didn’t even get to the appetizers before he had his hand under my dress," she feigns a smile. "So much for talking shop with a pro…"

Their latest case, had lead them to a ski resort in Colorado where the young detectives had crossed paths with one Richard Brooks, an accomplished profiler, who quickly took an interest in Nancy – much to Frank’s dismay.

"Are you ok?"

"My ego’s a little bruised," she quips, trying to deflect his concern as best as she can. "And don’t worry, I did throw a drink in his face."

"That’s a my girl," Frank replies, giving her a look of approval.

Nancy shakes her head, still somewhat embarrassed about the whole situation. "I should have listened to you, you saw right through him and I chalked it up to you being jealous….”

"Maybe I was a little jealous," Frank admits.

"Just a little?" she teases, bumping her shoulder against his.

"Well," he takes a beat. "Good talk, you’ll find your way back, right?"

"Wait, I’m sorry," she pleads, grabbing his hand as he stands up.

"I’m kidding," Frank responds with a laugh, intertwining his fingers with hers, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "But we better get going, the cab’s waiting and you’re turning into a block of ice."

She stumbles a little as he pulls her up, her legs stiff from the cold, but Frank steadies her.

"Thanks," she hesitates when they reach the waiting cab. "You know, I genuinely thought that his interest was purely professional, I’d never…"

"You don’t have to explain yourself. You were blinded by his reputation but at the end of the day he’s the one who missed out."

"How so?"

"I will deny this tomorrow, but you’re the best investigator I know, so he probably could have picked up a couple of things from you."

"You’re not so bad yourself, Hardy," she meets his eyes and they share a tender look.

"I know it’s not dinner with a celebrity profiler, but how about hot chocolate with a friend back at the lodge? I might even ask you to give me some pointers," Frank asks.

"I’d love that. But it’ll be my treat, I’ll pay you back tomorrow."

"Oh you’re also paying for the cab,” he deadpans.

"That’s fair," Nancy laughs as Frank opens the door for her and ushers her into the car while the snow starts coming down around them.

Chapter Text

The Edge of Forever 

The grandfather clock in the hall had just struck two, its chime barely audible over the steady summer rain tapping gently against the roof and windows of the Hardy Home.  

Fenton wasn’t supposed to return until the next afternoon, but a lucky break in the case had allowed him to take an earlier flight home. Looking forward to his own bed and hopefully breakfast with his boys, he sets his suitcase and damp coat down by the front door and steps into the sitting room. 

With Gertrude also being out of town, he’s expecting to find Frank and Joe up late in front of a movie or tinkering with some experiment in the basement.

But the house is quiet. Suspiciously so. 

The only signs of recent activity come from the fading embers of the fireplace and the gentle scratch of the record player needle spinning aimlessly at the end of a side. Fenton crosses the room and lifts the needle, placing it back in its cradle. And that’s when he notices the blue mohair sweater thrown haphazardly over the back of the couch.

Definitely not something his sister would own.

He narrows his eyes, already forming a theory…

He’s not trying to keep his steps silent when he climbs up the stairs, but years of detective work have made it a habit. Upstairs he finds Frank’s door slightly ajar, light pooling out into the hallway — warm and low. 

He pauses. 

A beat. 

And then he sees them. 

His eldest and Nancy Drew, deeply asleep in each other’s arms. The scene leaves no room for presumptions of innocence — Nancy’s head resting against Frank’s bare chest, his hand on the small of her back, both of them tangled in a mess of sheets, clothes scattered on the floor. 

He sighs, too exhausted and too used to the boys finding trouble where they shouldn’t to be truly shocked — still this is …uncharted territory.

He takes one last look, then flicks the light off and carefully pulls the door shut with a soft click. 

Downstairs, he pours himself a drink, the old scotch that only comes out when a case went particularly well (or particularly sideways) and settles into his old leather chair with a book — though he doesn’t intend to read it, it’s more of a prop to keep busy until… 

"Dad?" Frank hovers in the doorway, pajama pants and an old sweatshirt thrown on in a hurry, hair still tousled from sleep, or whatever had passed as such.

"Can’t sleep?" Fenton responds dryly. 

"You’re home early," Frank states, dodging the question.

"Clearly not early enough…" 

Frank hesitates for a second before he steps into the room. "We thought we had the house to ourselves. We weren’t trying to be disrespectful."

"I’d say you succeeded anyway." 

Frank flinches, but doesn’t argue. "You’re right. We should have been more thoughtful."

Fenton studies him for a beat that feels life a lifetime, then reaches into the cabinet, pulls out a second glass, and fills it with a modest splash of scotch.

"Sit."

Frank obeys, sinking into the chair opposite his father.

"This," Fenton hands him the drink. "…probably sets a horrible precedent, but it’s two in the morning and I’m in over my head here."

Frank manages a small smile. "The last time we had this conversation, you took me out for milkshakes."

Fenton huffs a laugh, the tension cracking at the edges. "You were thirteen, I caught you kissing Abby Reed behind the trellis. Figured it was time." 

Frank shakes his head at the memory. "I really need to learn how to be more discreet."  

"You think?" Fenton takes a sip of his scotch and leans back, the sternness giving way — gradually — to something gentler.

"Look," he starts again. "You’re too old for a lecture, so I’m not going to read you the riot act,  but I do reserve the right to remind you that choices — especially ones like this — come with consequences. And responsibilities."

"I know, we’ve talked about that. Weighed all the risks. This isn’t just some fling. I care about her, Dad. A Lot." 

"So tonight wasn’t the first time?" He inquires, already knowing the answer. It’s Frank’s composure that gives him away. Steady, calm, confident…

"No Sir," Frank shakes his head, a sheepish smile curving his lips before he finally takes a sip from his drink.

Fenton sighs. "How long?"

"Two months. Remember that case in San Francisco?"

"The insurance scam. You missed your flight because you lost track of time when you were out  ‘sightseeing’," Fenton recalls, putting two and two together.

"That part is true, but then we stayed up talking all night and by the time breakfast was served something had changed. We weren’t trying to hide it. We were just waiting for the right moment…"

"And enjoying the thrills of sneaking around in the meantime?"

"Maybe a little," Frank admits, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

"I bet," Fenton mutters, raising his glass again. "As your father — just promise me that you’re being careful."

"I promise."

Fenton studies him for a long moment, then sets his glass down with a quiet clink. "I can’t even say I’m surprised. You two have been dancing around each other since the first case you solved together."

Frank raises an eyebrow. "You noticed?"

Fenton gives him a dry look. "Son, I think we established that subtlety is not your strong suit."

Frank laughs. "That's fair."

The silence settles comfortably between them, the only sound coming from the rain overhead.

"You’re certainly not thirteen anymore," Fenton says at last. "And I trust your judgement — maybe more than anyone’s. But as long as you’re under this roof, I expect a certain level of — let’s just call it awareness. Next time she’s spending the night, remember that we have a perfectly good guest bedroom."

"Yes Sir."

"And just in case you need another incentive. Picture your aunt Gertrude coming home to this, she’d have a priest waiting for at dawn." 

The thought alone is enough to send a shiver down Frank’s spine. "Point taken, no more sneaking around," he finishes his drink. 

Fenton gives his son a look of approval. "Good, and tomorrow, or rather later today, I expect the both of you to tell Carson. I don’t think his blood pressure could handle this kind of surprise."

"We will. And… thanks, Dad. For not flipping out. Back then, and now," Frank says a hint of vulnerability breaking through.

Fenton waves him off, already reaching for his book again. "Go back to bed, get some sleep and make sure I don’t have to repeat any of this to Nancy," he pauses, noticing a creak in the floorboards. "…though, I assume she already caught most of it." 

His eyes flick over Frank’s shoulder. A beat passes, then Nancy steps into the light. Wearing the top half of Frank’s pajamas, hair thrown up in a messy ponytail, eyes sharp as ever. 

"I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, I just wanted to be ready to jump in in case Frank needed me," she explains firmly, her gaze meeting Fenton’s with a confidence that impresses both Hardy men.

Fenton blinks, then laughs — low and genuine. “Well — I see you’re in good hands, son." 

"The best," Frank concurs, finishing his drink before he stands up to join Nancy, who immediately slides her arm around his waist — unfazed by Fenton’s watchful gaze.

“Just get out of my sight. " Fenton laughs. "Oh and Frank?"

"Yes Dad?" 

"You’re mowing the lawn tomorrow. Consider it penance."

Frank responds with a nod and a knowing smile. "Good night, dad."

"Mr. Hardy," Nancy gives him a warm, appreciative look.  

"Night kids," Fenton shakes his head, as he watches them retreat. Nancy leaning into Frank, whispering something that makes him laugh…  and suddenly he’s not all that worried about a little youthful indiscretion anymore. At least not where these two are concerned.