Fanfiction time
Title: Walls, Doors, and Eyes
Author: Dizzy
Rating: eh… hard to say.
Pairing: NancyConrad
Notes: My first Weedsfic. Minor spoilers/references to early season 2. Also, the format of this fic is a little different from anything I’ve done or read. I hope it works.
Additional note: There are a couple of points when I mention Nancy’s kitchen. I’m referring to the back room of the “bakery” where the quote I’ve used as inspiration took place. I’m not actually certain as to whether it’s a kitchen or not.
Final note: I find it really hard to believe that there aren’t multitudes of NancyConrad fics out there, or even Weedsfic. It’s such an amazing show, and I know it's popular- so where are the writers? I wrote this fic because I love the pairing and I saw a horrible lack of writing for them and for the show. WEEDS WRITERS, WHERE ARE YOU? COME OUT!
And now to the fic.
Are you angry ‘cause I fucked a DEA agent or because I fucked somebody else?
The tension was… a wall; no, not a wall, a wall was a cliché; the tension was….
The tension was.
She had opened her mouth and she had spoken. She had taken that step into that we-don’t-go-there territory, another cliché, but apt all the same. It hadn’t been a voluntary step; she hadn’t meant to.
She had been pushed.
He had pushed her, walking away, striding away out of her kitchen and out of her fucking life, in that moment, he had pushed and she had stumbled, and in stumbling she had bumped something inside her and the words had fallen out before she could grab them.
The cold hard metal of the door jamb was pressing into each of her hands; no, that was wrong, doors couldn’t press- she was pressing the door, people could press, doors could not. She could press and she was; pressing the doorway, pressing him.
Fuck.
And now he was looking and she was looking and there was this stupid goddamned tension and it did not help that all of a sudden there was some sort of twisted desire warming her up, because he had beat up a campus guard for her and she had fucked somebody else.
Christ, she wanted him.
And he was looking at her, and he was looking at her, why was he looking at her? Ohhhhh she should not have told him, she shouldn’t have said a single solitary word.
Actually, she just should not have fucked Peter in the first place, but goddamnit, she was lonely and he had sweet eyes and her fucking vibrator wasn’t working. And those eyes; well, a vibrator didn’t have eyes. It was an understandable mistake.
Conrad had eyes.
She shouldn’t have told Conrad.
Why the hell had she told Conrad?
Are you angry ‘cause I fucked a DEA agent or because I fucked somebody else?
Holy shit.
She wanted him to answer. Not only did she want him to answer, but she wanted him to answer in a very specific way. She wanted him to say it was because she fucked somebody else. She wanted him to want her.
She wanted him.
Or, you know, he could just grab her by the arms and thrust her against the wall and fuck her so hard she’d never think of fucking anyone else again. That would work too; she would accept that. The implication would pretty much be the same.
And Conrad had eyes, remember how Conrad had eyes? Well he did, and had they always been this dark? Of course they had, naturally, obviously, without a doubt. She’d seen these eyes before; they looked familiar.
Yesterday, of course, she’d seen them yesterday, when she had found out it had been Conrad who had fucked up the campus guard. And You did that? she’d asked, and there had been those familiar eyes, and yesterday she’d thought they’d been saying Yes, been saying I wish we could talk, but now she knew that she’d made all that up; it was obvious what his eyes had been saying. They were saying the same thing now.
I want to fuck you, they were saying.
Or maybe she was just delusional because she wanted to fuck him.
Maybe that’s why she had fucked Peter; not because her vibrator didn’t have eyes, but because Conrad did.
That did not make sense.
Not because her vibrator wasn’t working, but because Conrad was.
That did not make sense either.
Not because she even needed a fucking vibrator when she had Conrad and Conrad had eyes and they were looking at her telling her they wanted to fuck her.
Oh, she was definitely delusional. How had she gotten into this again?
Oh right.
It was all Conrad’s fault.
He shouldn’t have walked away. If he hadn’t walked away this never would have happened. She never would have been standing here with her hands pressing the doorway pressing her hands with the wall-like tension pressing them both and his fuck-me eyes and her stupid desire.
Are you angry ‘cause I fucked a DEA agent or because I fucked somebody else?
Conrad had fucked Celia. It was really all perfectly fair; he’d fucked her friend and she’d fucked a DEA agent. They were even. Weren’t they? Celia, my god.
Celia?
Shit.
Maybe she should just ask him, clear this whole thing up. Ask the question and he’d answer with a simple yes or no, and then they could move on, back away, give the tension some room to dissipate.
Only there was the slight issue that her voice wasn’t in full working condition right now.
Okay, well that wasn’t a problem. Not at all. She would just use her eyes, she’d ask the question with her eyes. It seemed to her that his eyes had been doing an awful lot of talking lately, so why shouldn’t hers?
Except for the part where she might be delusional.
Fuck it. She was asking.
What was she asking again?
Aha! Right, right, okay. The question. She had it.
Conrad. Hi.
Could he tell her eyes were talking? Because they were. She waited.
Conrad. I need you to fuck me. Okay?
His eyes weren’t responding. Maybe they hadn’t heard her.
Conrad. I want you.
Shit. What the hell, Nancy, you really thought you were communicating with his eyes?
Deep breath. What was he doing now? What was he thinking? What had she said to him that he was looking at her over the sort-of-wall of tension with those eyes that possibly were darker than usual that were telling her he wanted to fuck her unless she was delusional because she wanted to fuck him?
Are you angry ‘cause I fucked a DEA agent or because I fucked somebody else?
Right. That was it.
Oh oh, he was moving now, he was moving in, moving closer and oh boy, he was tightening the tension, he was pressing the wall, this could never ever in a million years be good. Where was he going? There wasn’t any more room between them, he had nowhere to go. He was moving the wrong way, she was blocking him! Closer and closer and Christ, there was that desire again, oh, Conrad, Conrad fuck me fuck me Conrad please.
Lips. Oh holy Jesus Christ, lips and now tongue and no more cold door against her hands, now it was warm, warm something, warm skin, oh god.
Breathing! Breathing was essential; she should probably do some breathing.
Gasps, gasps of oxygen, but her body was gasping, not just her mouth or lungs or trachea or whatever the hell made you breathe, but her whole entire body was gasping, gasping Conrad instead of air.
Why the fuck was this man selling weed when clearly he could do this for a living?
Now his hands were pressing, pressing, her stomach back ass hips breasts neck thighs, pressing, gasping, what was he saying? You listened with your ears, right, okay ears, listen up to Conrad.
Nancy.
Oh, he was saying her name. Now why was that making her sweat? God it was hot; this place needed air conditioning.
Oh look, there went her shirt. That was better, heatwise. And his shirt too, they could keep each other company.
Conrad, Conrad, he was going to fuck her, they were going to fuck right here, right here, and there was that desire again, warming her up, burning her up, and the pressing, not just his hands anymore but his chest, his mouth, his arms, his legs, and his-
When had she lost her underwear? She liked them, they were purple, and they’d been on sale-
Shit. Conrad had extremely well-shaped fingers. Oh god. Oh god.
How had this happened?
Oh right. They’d been arguing.
Because she’d fucked a DEA agent.
Why the fuck had she fucked a DEA agent? She had Conrad.
Oh boy did she have Conrad.
Oh oh oh oh she was losing it, this was it, she wanted Conrad, she had Conrad, Conrad was fucking her against a wall in her cold kitchen and he was fucking her with his body, his hands, his lips, and his eyes-
He was saying something. It was breathing time, air-gasping time, now ears, ears, what’s Conrad saying?
Nancy.
Conrad was gasping air too.
Nancy.
Holy shit.
Nancy.
Her turn.
Conrad.
Conrad.
Conrad....
You have really nice eyes.
fin
Feedback is always greatly loved and appreciated.
Author: Dizzy
Rating: eh… hard to say.
Pairing: NancyConrad
Notes: My first Weedsfic. Minor spoilers/references to early season 2. Also, the format of this fic is a little different from anything I’ve done or read. I hope it works.
Additional note: There are a couple of points when I mention Nancy’s kitchen. I’m referring to the back room of the “bakery” where the quote I’ve used as inspiration took place. I’m not actually certain as to whether it’s a kitchen or not.
Final note: I find it really hard to believe that there aren’t multitudes of NancyConrad fics out there, or even Weedsfic. It’s such an amazing show, and I know it's popular- so where are the writers? I wrote this fic because I love the pairing and I saw a horrible lack of writing for them and for the show. WEEDS WRITERS, WHERE ARE YOU? COME OUT!
And now to the fic.
Are you angry ‘cause I fucked a DEA agent or because I fucked somebody else?
The tension was… a wall; no, not a wall, a wall was a cliché; the tension was….
The tension was.
She had opened her mouth and she had spoken. She had taken that step into that we-don’t-go-there territory, another cliché, but apt all the same. It hadn’t been a voluntary step; she hadn’t meant to.
She had been pushed.
He had pushed her, walking away, striding away out of her kitchen and out of her fucking life, in that moment, he had pushed and she had stumbled, and in stumbling she had bumped something inside her and the words had fallen out before she could grab them.
The cold hard metal of the door jamb was pressing into each of her hands; no, that was wrong, doors couldn’t press- she was pressing the door, people could press, doors could not. She could press and she was; pressing the doorway, pressing him.
Fuck.
And now he was looking and she was looking and there was this stupid goddamned tension and it did not help that all of a sudden there was some sort of twisted desire warming her up, because he had beat up a campus guard for her and she had fucked somebody else.
Christ, she wanted him.
And he was looking at her, and he was looking at her, why was he looking at her? Ohhhhh she should not have told him, she shouldn’t have said a single solitary word.
Actually, she just should not have fucked Peter in the first place, but goddamnit, she was lonely and he had sweet eyes and her fucking vibrator wasn’t working. And those eyes; well, a vibrator didn’t have eyes. It was an understandable mistake.
Conrad had eyes.
She shouldn’t have told Conrad.
Why the hell had she told Conrad?
Are you angry ‘cause I fucked a DEA agent or because I fucked somebody else?
Holy shit.
She wanted him to answer. Not only did she want him to answer, but she wanted him to answer in a very specific way. She wanted him to say it was because she fucked somebody else. She wanted him to want her.
She wanted him.
Or, you know, he could just grab her by the arms and thrust her against the wall and fuck her so hard she’d never think of fucking anyone else again. That would work too; she would accept that. The implication would pretty much be the same.
And Conrad had eyes, remember how Conrad had eyes? Well he did, and had they always been this dark? Of course they had, naturally, obviously, without a doubt. She’d seen these eyes before; they looked familiar.
Yesterday, of course, she’d seen them yesterday, when she had found out it had been Conrad who had fucked up the campus guard. And You did that? she’d asked, and there had been those familiar eyes, and yesterday she’d thought they’d been saying Yes, been saying I wish we could talk, but now she knew that she’d made all that up; it was obvious what his eyes had been saying. They were saying the same thing now.
I want to fuck you, they were saying.
Or maybe she was just delusional because she wanted to fuck him.
Maybe that’s why she had fucked Peter; not because her vibrator didn’t have eyes, but because Conrad did.
That did not make sense.
Not because her vibrator wasn’t working, but because Conrad was.
That did not make sense either.
Not because she even needed a fucking vibrator when she had Conrad and Conrad had eyes and they were looking at her telling her they wanted to fuck her.
Oh, she was definitely delusional. How had she gotten into this again?
Oh right.
It was all Conrad’s fault.
He shouldn’t have walked away. If he hadn’t walked away this never would have happened. She never would have been standing here with her hands pressing the doorway pressing her hands with the wall-like tension pressing them both and his fuck-me eyes and her stupid desire.
Are you angry ‘cause I fucked a DEA agent or because I fucked somebody else?
Conrad had fucked Celia. It was really all perfectly fair; he’d fucked her friend and she’d fucked a DEA agent. They were even. Weren’t they? Celia, my god.
Celia?
Shit.
Maybe she should just ask him, clear this whole thing up. Ask the question and he’d answer with a simple yes or no, and then they could move on, back away, give the tension some room to dissipate.
Only there was the slight issue that her voice wasn’t in full working condition right now.
Okay, well that wasn’t a problem. Not at all. She would just use her eyes, she’d ask the question with her eyes. It seemed to her that his eyes had been doing an awful lot of talking lately, so why shouldn’t hers?
Except for the part where she might be delusional.
Fuck it. She was asking.
What was she asking again?
Aha! Right, right, okay. The question. She had it.
Conrad. Hi.
Could he tell her eyes were talking? Because they were. She waited.
Conrad. I need you to fuck me. Okay?
His eyes weren’t responding. Maybe they hadn’t heard her.
Conrad. I want you.
Shit. What the hell, Nancy, you really thought you were communicating with his eyes?
Deep breath. What was he doing now? What was he thinking? What had she said to him that he was looking at her over the sort-of-wall of tension with those eyes that possibly were darker than usual that were telling her he wanted to fuck her unless she was delusional because she wanted to fuck him?
Are you angry ‘cause I fucked a DEA agent or because I fucked somebody else?
Right. That was it.
Oh oh, he was moving now, he was moving in, moving closer and oh boy, he was tightening the tension, he was pressing the wall, this could never ever in a million years be good. Where was he going? There wasn’t any more room between them, he had nowhere to go. He was moving the wrong way, she was blocking him! Closer and closer and Christ, there was that desire again, oh, Conrad, Conrad fuck me fuck me Conrad please.
Lips. Oh holy Jesus Christ, lips and now tongue and no more cold door against her hands, now it was warm, warm something, warm skin, oh god.
Breathing! Breathing was essential; she should probably do some breathing.
Gasps, gasps of oxygen, but her body was gasping, not just her mouth or lungs or trachea or whatever the hell made you breathe, but her whole entire body was gasping, gasping Conrad instead of air.
Why the fuck was this man selling weed when clearly he could do this for a living?
Now his hands were pressing, pressing, her stomach back ass hips breasts neck thighs, pressing, gasping, what was he saying? You listened with your ears, right, okay ears, listen up to Conrad.
Nancy.
Oh, he was saying her name. Now why was that making her sweat? God it was hot; this place needed air conditioning.
Oh look, there went her shirt. That was better, heatwise. And his shirt too, they could keep each other company.
Conrad, Conrad, he was going to fuck her, they were going to fuck right here, right here, and there was that desire again, warming her up, burning her up, and the pressing, not just his hands anymore but his chest, his mouth, his arms, his legs, and his-
When had she lost her underwear? She liked them, they were purple, and they’d been on sale-
Shit. Conrad had extremely well-shaped fingers. Oh god. Oh god.
How had this happened?
Oh right. They’d been arguing.
Because she’d fucked a DEA agent.
Why the fuck had she fucked a DEA agent? She had Conrad.
Oh boy did she have Conrad.
Oh oh oh oh she was losing it, this was it, she wanted Conrad, she had Conrad, Conrad was fucking her against a wall in her cold kitchen and he was fucking her with his body, his hands, his lips, and his eyes-
He was saying something. It was breathing time, air-gasping time, now ears, ears, what’s Conrad saying?
Nancy.
Conrad was gasping air too.
Nancy.
Holy shit.
Nancy.
Her turn.
Conrad.
Conrad.
Conrad....
You have really nice eyes.
fin
Feedback is always greatly loved and appreciated.