Written for nickersoncrazy for Nancy Drew Yuletide 2007.

---

"And what can I get for you to drink?" Nancy Drew asked, her pen poised over her order pad, as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

The boy, seated in the booth and to her right, glanced up at the large neon cola sign over the counter, then glanced back at the menu. "Um, water?"

His girlfriend, a simpering brunette, flashed him an approving smile, and Nancy just barely managed to keep from rolling her eyes. Across the room, Bess was flirting outrageously with a booth full of boisterous football players. She had taken her waitressing job at the same time as Nancy. "It'll be a snap," she'd said; she'd spent the past summer working as a waitress to earn her money for school clothes in the fall. Nancy, at the manager's suggestion, had taken the job only for as long as it took her to find out who was managing to steal from the cash register, after closing, without appearing on the security camera footage. She'd just about narrowed it down to one of the cooks.

"And I'll have a water. With extra lemon."

Distracted, Nancy nodded, almost taking the customers' still-open menus before she covered with a wide smile. "Coming right up," she said brightly, turning on her heel. Her foot, already tired, twinged in protest. She tightened the apron strings at her waist before shouldering open the swinging door to the kitchen.

Bess, Nancy knew, would pour the guy the soda he so obviously wanted, hoping for a bigger tip. Nancy was just filling the second cup with ice when her friend came up behind her.

"I really should've worn my pink shirt today," Bess pouted, leaning against the wall to Nancy's right, taking the time to shift her weight off her feet and relax for a second. "Then I'd really get a good tip."

"And never be able to wear it again," Nancy retorted, fishing for the tongs. Her second day on the job, she'd taken a grease-flecked shirt home to Hannah, only to see her cluck in dismay over it.

"Yeah," Bess nodded vaguely. "Anyway. Got any new leads?"

Nancy shook her head, dropping one last lemon wedge on a saucer before she swiftly started assembling her tray. "And zero tips, either."

"I'll do my best to make sure you get the next big group that comes in."

Nancy paused for a second with her back against the swinging door, shaking her head as she saw Bess's sparkling eyes. "No, really. You take it. It's just a cover, anyway."

The next group was so big that Nancy and her manager had to push tables together to make room. The girls all wore their boyfriends' leather-sleeved letterman's jackets and too much makeup. Their boyfriends all looked muscular, preppy, exhilarated from the cold. A few had scarves done in the Mapleton colors tucked around their necks. Nancy went around the table taking drink orders, feeling Bess's amused glance at her back.

"And what would you like?" Nancy asked, her eyes on her order pad, before she lifted her gaze to that of the last guy at the table, and she felt her heart stop, just for a second. He was, quite frankly, incredibly handsome, probably the most handsome guy she had seen in her life. His wavy brown hair was thick, his brown eyes dark, his jaw square. And his gaze on her was appraising, and just a little amused.

"I'd love a hot chocolate," he admitted.

Nancy made a note, stifling her smile to just the smallest turn of her lips. "Whipped cream?"

"Definitely."

Just after she had put their meal orders in, Bess burst into the kitchen, her cheeks pink with excitement. "I know you're my best friend, but I almost wish I hadn't let you take that table," she gushed. "You got some total hotties."

Nancy smiled, hefting a refill pitcher. "I'd be more than happy to let you take over," she reminded her friend. "Besides, if you do..."

Nancy made the faintest shrug in the direction of the employee coat closet. Bess gazed over, then nodded a little. Nancy wanted to search it, just to see if it yielded any clues. Both of them knew work was too busy to let her do it just yet, but were on the lookout for any opportunity.

Eventually, Bess's group was gone, but Nancy's lingered well after they had finished their meals. A few times Nancy considered just making a brief, cursory search, before one of the other waitresses went off her shift, and once even made a move in that direction, but Bess was already covering for her with the refills. So Nancy sighed, wishing she could rest her aching feet for just a moment, and headed back out, her smile firmly in place.

On the way home, in the borrowed station wagon, Bess shot a glance at Nancy. "You are the luckiest girl I know."

"What?" Nancy asked, kicking her shoes off. "I cannot wait to get to sleep tonight."

"You know who that guy was at your table."

"You mean the really cute one with the sweet brown eyes?" Nancy asked before she could stop herself, then exchanged an amused glance with Bess.

"That one," Bess confirmed, giggling. "Mapleton's star quarterback."

Nancy's response came a split second later. "Oh yeah," she remembered, drawling. "Ned Nickerson." The announcer at the high school football games had said that name a lot, during River Heights's match against Mapleton. Nancy, Bess, and George had been huddled in the bleachers, trying to eat their unnaturally-colored-cheese topped nachos before the sauce became inedible, Bess sighing with envy over the lucky varsity cheerleaders, George sighing with envy over the strictly-male football players, and Nancy laughing at the both of them.

"Maybe he'll come back." Bess had a goofy grin on her face.

"Maybe he will," Nancy replied, putting her shoes back on as Bess turned onto her street. "Maybe I'll have solved the case by then."

"You sure you aren't going to show up for just a little while tomorrow night?"

Nancy shrugged an apology. "I haven't been able to study for that test all week," she reminded Bess. "It's going to be bad enough as it is."

"Fine," Bess sighed, running her hand through her hair as Nancy retrieved her backpack. "See you in the morning."

"See you."

Friday morning Nancy was still going over the index cards she'd made herself as study guides, in homeroom, when Bess breezed in, dropped a stack of books on the desk beside Nancy's, and leaned over to her. "You will never guess what happened last night."

George looked up from her own biology notes to return, "Someone gave you a diamond ring instead of a tip?"

Bess shot a glare at her cousin before turning back to Nancy. "Remember Ned? He came in again. He is soooo cute."

Nancy tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, nodding, her gaze still on her notes. "What, did you see him scoping out the place later?"

"Nancy!" Bess folded her arms. "You can't have this much of a one-track mind."

"Two track," Nancy returned mildly, flipping over a card. "At lunch, I promise, we can talk, but for now... I just need to figure out how to remember all this."

"Give up now," George intoned behind her. "Really. When are we ever going to need to know any of this?"

At lunch, after her test was over and she could actually think about something other than plant functions, Nancy took in Bess and George's plates with some amusement. Bess had a mixed salad and a diet soda, with a large, gooey hunk of chocolate cake on a saucer next to her tray. George had opted for the baked chicken and mixed vegetables, and skim milk. Nancy was supplementing her chicken salad with a peach. "So," Nancy began, catching Bess's glances at her cake even while she was still on her salad, "Ned came in last night."

Bess's eyes lit up. "He was really sweet. Good tipper, too. Maybe I'll stay on a little while after the case is over, see if he makes any moves." She sighed. "He didn't ask for my number or anything last night."

George swallowed a bite of chicken. "Which is a good sign," she said, jumping back as her cousin tried to playfully swipe at her. "What? At least you know he isn't a total player."

"Well, you're more than welcome to it," Nancy said, sipping the last of her milk. "Soon as I've turned in whoever's been doing this, I am going to burn that apron. I don't see how you waitressed all summer."

Bess shrugged, tossing her hair. "Learn all the tricks, get good tips. Besides, there are some awesome slouch boots at the mall I'm saving up for."

"So you've given up on the Ab-Shocker?" George asked, her eyes wickedly sparkling.

"Next week," Bess swore, shoving her tray aside to get to her cake. "Next week, you guys, swear you won't let me go off my diet."

Nancy and George exchanged their familiar glance. Bess was always a week away from her "perfect" diet. "Sure," Nancy replied. "With any luck I'll finish up at the restaurant tonight and you'll get those slouch boots twice as quick."

When she and Bess pulled up to the restaurant, Nancy sighed, hoping doubly that were true. Her feet were already starting to ache in protest, and she hadn't even gotten inside yet. Bess made short order of finding a couple of likely tippers, and Nancy finished her round of refills quickly, shooting a glance at the back closet again. Last night, after Bess and the manager had closed up and Bess had marked the larger bills, another couple hundred had gone missing. Short of having the entire staff of the restaurant turn out their pockets, Nancy wasn't quite sure what to do.

"Why, hello."

Nancy was startled out of her reverie by an expanse of broad chest right in her line of vision. She raised her head to meet Ned's warm gaze, returning it with a smile. "Sorry," she said, moving out of his path.

The hostess, seeing their interaction, led Ned to one of Nancy's tables. Bess, on the other side of the room, was taking in the entire scene with interest.

"Another hot chocolate?" Out of the corner of her eye, Nancy was studying the half-empty glasses at other tables, remembering which pitchers to bring back with her. She turned her attention back just in time to see Ned following her gaze.

He replied with a shrug and a smile. "Whenever you have a minute," he said, just as a loudspoken woman who had pronounced her hamburger too well done when it had been exactly what she'd asked for, noisily finished the drink Nancy had refilled three minutes earlier.

"Thanks," Nancy said, shooting him a grateful smile as she returned her order pad to her apron and rushed back to the kitchen.

Another near-altercation later and Nancy returned to Ned's table for his meal order. He was studying her face carefully, instead of his menu. "Already know what you want?" she joked.

She caught his almost-nod before he smiled. "You look familiar."

"And you do too," she said, putting her hand on her hip. "You're the quarterback at Mapleton, right?"

Ned had the grace to dip his head. "And the way you say Mapleton, and the way I don't remember you from any classes, means you don't go there."

"I don't," Nancy admitted. "So, another bacon cheeseburger for you?"

"Oh—yeah, that's fine," he replied, still studying her, as though it didn't matter what he had. "You don't by chance have a break soon?"

Nancy smiled. "We don't get breaks here," she sighed dramatically. "But I'll get your order in right away."

Bess pushed through the swinging door a second after Nancy. "He's flirting with you, isn't he?" Bess demanded, her delight mixed with just a bit of jealousy that was too obvious to be false.

"Yeah, we've already made a date for next week," Nancy said sarcastically, putting the order up before she ran back to the fountain. "He doesn't know who I am, right?"

Bess rolled her eyes. "Nancy, everyone in the entire county knows who you are."

Nancy grimaced. She'd never taken any of her cases for the publicity, and she was always irritated when the River Heights Morning Record ran out of material and decided to send a new reporter fresh out of college over to her house to see if she'd been up to anything lately, when they were having a slow week. Her effectiveness as an investigator was hurt with every story they wrote, she tried to tell them. Plus, everyone in River Heights, who had known her the entire time she was growing up, all commented every time an article ran. If she was this good when she was fifteen..., they all said, patting Carson on the back.

At least her father was used to it. She'd suggested dyeing her hair, like making herself some secret identity, but her father had been less than enthusiastic about that.

"You're Nancy Drew, aren't you."

Nancy was holding the basket of fries just above the surface of Ned's table; she let it drop with an audible whack, her gaze rising to meet his. "Sorry. Yeah, I'm just working here a few nights a week, trying to make some extra money." She gave him a genuine smile at the end.

Ned looked a little incredulous, but let it pass. "You're not at all like I thought you would be."

"How did you think I would be?"

Ned shook his head. "I don't know. Carson Drew's daughter? Catching bank thieves and embezzlers on the weekends? Everyone talks about you like you're a superhero."

"And I'm ordinary," she replied, conviction in her voice, because that was what she wanted to appear, what she wanted to seem. Even though saying it made her feel curiously sad.

Ned shook his head again. "You're better."

Nancy felt her heart flutter once, traitorously. She smiled and, with one last sweep of her eyes over his table, went back to the kitchen. She had finally managed to subdue her grin and was heading back out when Bess caught her.

"Have you been watching me the entire night?" Nancy demanded, still smiling.

Bess waved off her question. "Look, he just asked me if you were working this weekend. So maybe you should just, maybe, not finish the case up quite yet?"

"I already know how I'm going to—"

Bess shushed Nancy. "Look, Nan, I know this case, any case, is important, and they're all you can think about, but... he is very interested in you. And it's been a long time since you and Don were going out."

"Two months."

"That is an eternity," Bess retorted. "And Ned's cute. So, just, I don't know... give him a chance. Or else I will. Definitely." Bess tilted her head, her expression going soft and dreamy.

Nancy, stalling for time and remembering that her most unfavorite customer of the night had probably drained her drink by now, went over to the pitchers again. "What if you're wrong?" she asked. "What if he doesn't really like me?"

Bess patted her hand. "Look, when it comes to codes and puzzles and mysteries, you're the expert. But in cases like this? Just trust me."

Nancy sighed, setting her shoulders, and headed back out.

That Saturday night, Bess had already gone over and over the plan, and Nancy had even alerted Chief McGinnis as to what they were going to do. The restaurant was busier than ever; they came in waves, after movies had ended. Nancy had just delivered burgers and fries to another table of kids when the hostess gestured Nancy over. She motioned for the girl to wait, taking the water pitcher around one more time, before she dusted her hands on her apron and went to the door.

Ned was standing there, hands in his pockets, just inside the threshold. "He won't take a table," the hostess murmured. "He just wanted to talk to you for a second. Want me to get Mike to kick him out?"

Nancy shook her head. "Hey," she said, suddenly feeling very conscious of her shirt, the weight of her hair.

"Hey," Ned replied, then burst out, "Are you doing anything Friday night?"

"It's—"too early for me to know, she almost finished, but she could hear Bess in the back of her head, cheering her on. "What did you have in mind?"

Ned shrugged. "Thought we could hang out," he said, the casual tone of his voice not matching the intensity in his eyes, the rigidity of his posture. "Maybe go see a movie."

Nancy found herself nodding dumbly. "Okay," she replied, feeling dazed.

"Great," Ned replied, his grin widening. "Okay. So should I call you? We can figure out where to meet?"

"Yeah," Nancy replied, smiling, and when Ned raised an eyebrow, just faintly, Nancy realized. "Oh." She pulled out her order pad and scrawled her number over a blank sheet, then ripped it out. "Here."

"Thanks," Ned replied, his hand lingering on hers when she passed it over. Then they both jerked back, a little, coming to themselves. "Um. So I'll call you sometime this week."

"That'd be great," Nancy replied. They exchanged their nervous grins again, and he gave her a little wave as he walked out of the restaurant.

Then Bess practically tackled her in a gleeful hug. "You just gave him your number!"

"And we're going on a date Saturday night," Nancy started giggling, not even caring when Bess's happy scream startled practically the entire restaurant.

--

He brought her Gerbera daisies, the kind that came pre-wrapped in plastic, not candy-apple red like the roses she'd almost wanted or blushed-white, but in dusky pinks and faded violets. She took them, smiling, found one of Hannah's vases, and left them standing on the hallway table. When they walked out to his car they didn't touch, anywhere but the edges, the faint brush of hands and shoulders, but he opened the passenger door for her, and she found the act at once old-fashioned and completely charming.

"I'm starving," he admitted, and she giggled, because it was the first real thing either one of them had said the entire night. Their telephone conversations had been awkward, but she had still been able to hear that same keen interest in his voice, and she had momentarily but very strongly wished that she had paid attention instead of tuning out every time Bess read aloud from the newest issue of Cosmo or Seventeen.

"I would be too, if I didn't feel so nervous."

He darted a quick glance at her, just before he switched gears. "Why would you be nervous?"

"No reason," she replied, after a beat.

Ned chuckled. "Are you kidding? I drove up almost expecting the third degree from your father. If that isn't being nervous..."

"He's out of town." She half-twisted in her seat, to face him. "Otherwise you'd probably be sitting in his study right now, promising to have me back by ten o'clock and in one piece."

She tried to give him a reassuring smile, to show that she'd been faking it, but he didn't buy it, and she didn't blame him. She and Bess were masters of the winning smile and the plausible lie. With him, the sheer effrontery of it made her lose the ability entirely.

"Does he go out of town a lot?"

Nancy shrugged. "I don't know, how often does your dad go out of town?"

"Maybe three times a year."

"Then yeah. He goes out of town a lot."

The restaurant was Italian. During their stilted icebreaking conversations, he'd asked her what kind of food she'd liked, and she had been vague. She wondered, idly, if she'd said Thai, where they would be right now.

"Is this okay?"

"This place is great," she said, unlocking her seat belt, unable to stop herself from smiling when he practically vaulted out of the car to get to her side before she could open her own door. As she swung her legs out to stand, she said, "I'm not an invalid, you know."

He colored slightly and had just opened his mouth, when she quirked her lips up at him, and then he shut it again. "I know," he explained. "I'll stop if you don't want me to do that anymore."

"I like it when you do," she admitted, and nodded when he held the front door of the restaurant for her.

Over dinner Ned told her about his life, and she was only too glad to hear it. She hated talking about her own, even to people who weren't reporters. His father was in insurance and his mother in real estate. He played every sport the school offered; Nancy nodded, making a mental note that at least this guy would be able to keep up with George, and then wondered why she was bothering to speculate on his future with her friends on their first date. She asked him about college, what he was planning on doing after, and a look came over his face that she recognized all too well, the same kind of look she felt like giving when someone asked her the same question.

"So you don't want to do what your parents do," she prompted, as the waitress cleared their plates.

Ned grimaced again, still hesitating. "It's not that," he sighed. "I'm interested in a thousand things right now. Too many things. If I go to some good all-around school, I'll figure out whatever I'm supposed to do."

Nancy chuckled darkly. "Must be nice."

"What, does your dad already have you grandfathered in at Harvard?"

It was Nancy's turn to pause, deliberate. "He's been really good to me, raising me. He lets me do pretty much whatever I want. But he's big on plans."

"And giving boyfriends the third degree."

She dipped her head in exaggerated agreement. "It's not like there have been that many, and he is just the tiniest bit overprotective."

Ned waited a beat after she had finished, until she made no effort to continue. "And what are your plans, Miss Drew?"

Nancy raised her chin. "To be a private investigator."

"I thought you already were," he said.

"Amateur. Not professional, not licensed, and... well, in three years when I can get my license, at least then I'll have my own car, and cops won't laugh when I ask them what kind of slugs they pulled out of a tree or whether they've managed to triangulate a cell phone yet."

"I'm almost glad I didn't follow any of that," Ned said, and joined in her laughter. He dipped his head again and Nancy studied him, frankly, the way she hadn't let herself when she had been his waitress and Bess had been watching their every move.

Then he looked up and their eyes met and she felt her spine tingle, straight down. Too soon he looked away, and Nancy felt a faint blush creep up her cheeks. She had never felt this way on a first date. As a matter of fact, she'd never felt this way on any date.

At the concession stand, before the movie, when he turned to her and asked if she wanted to split a box of candy, she was on the point of refusing when the instincts Bess had drilled in her took over, even temporarily, and suggested that at least this way they could touch. So she picked out the Junior Mints and gave him a smile.

Along with the candy tips, Bess had often said that the entire trajectory of any relationship was determined by the first movie she watched with a boy. Nancy realized she had wanted the movie to be outstanding only when she realized, shortly into it, that it was anything but. If she and Ned were going to last, she didn't want to tell their children, grandchildren, or even Bess and George, that their first movie had been a boring and predictable romantic comedy.

"I actually prefer thrillers," she leaned over and whispered to him, during a lull in the action, when their hands were side-by-side on the armrest but his hand was not yet on hers.

"I do too," he whispered back. "We'll have to do that next time."

Next time, she repeated deliriously to herself, as his pinky brushed hers, the contact like electricity over her skin. She took a breath and flipped her hand over, brushing her fingertips against the edge of his hand, and soon it was in his, warm, and she was aware, very aware of their contact through the rest of the movie.

The night was cool as he unlocked and opened her door for her, after. "So what did you think?"

"I think Bess would have loved it," Nancy admitted, as Ned slid into the driver's seat next to her. "She'd love that kind of movie. I thought half the characters were probably in on some elaborate embezzling scheme."

Ned stopped for a moment with his hand on the ignition, then chuckled. "You know, if that had been true? Eh... it still wouldn't have made the movie that much better. But it would have been a definite improvement."

Nancy waited another beat, until their joined laughter had died down, and he was waiting at a red light. "I had fun tonight," she said. "Even though you took me to a lousy movie, Nickerson."

He smiled as he flicked on his turn signal. "Just trying to impress you, Drew," he replied. "But you don't impress easy. I'll do my best to find something you'll like, next time."

She could feel her heart warm again, on hearing him say those words. "Older movies."

"You mean like second-run?"

"I mean—" she playfully swiped at his arm when she realized his carefully blank look had been just that, "the revival theater, old black and white films. Casablanca is my favorite."

"After what we just saw back there? I thought you didn't like love stories."

"Casablanca is so much more than just a love story."

They debated it, all the way back to her house, and then the merits of the Star Wars movies, and who they identified with the most; Ned, unsurprisingly, saw himself as more of the Han Solo type. Nancy told him to nix any thought of gold bikinis, and by the time he was walking her to her door, he was laughing again.

"So."

Just like that, the laughter trailed off, as they faced each other on her father's porch. He reached for her hand, naturally, and squeezed it gently for a second, and Nancy's gaze rose to meet his.

"I really did have a nice time tonight."

He nodded, and she studied his eyes, dark brown and warm. She raised the hand not in his and tentatively touched his hair, ran her hand over it, thought of pulling him down to her, and decided against it, all in the space of a second.

"I had a nice time too."

He leaned in and his lips brushed her cheek, and the disappointment didn't even have time to realize because his touch lingered there, and with one more breath he tilted his head and pressed his mouth, gently, to hers.

Her hand had still been lingering near the back of his neck, and now she let her arm rest against his shoulder as she returned his kiss, slowly. She closed her eyes and let herself relax into it, and it felt so different from any other kiss, every other kiss, the halfhearted ones she had shared with Don; she was relieved and afraid and fully, almost painfully awake. They stepped in toward each other at the same time and she could feel him breathing, his eyelashes fluttering like the softest pressure against her cheek. She sighed when they broke apart, and the expression she saw in his eyes then nearly frightened her, for its intensity, but then she put the slightest pressure on the back of his neck and he leaned down again, his other arm curving around her waist.

"Oh," she whispered, when he pulled back the second time. She felt dizzy, and she could feel each individual beat of her heart.

Ned nodded in agreement and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "So when can I see you again?"

"How about tomorrow," she suggested, almost immediately, and they both laughed, but there was no humor in it. Only relief, and longing.