[rookieblue] fan!gift exchange | "it's beginning to look a lot like christmas..."
For the A-PLUS fangirls participating in the Yuletide Hates Us Rookie Blue Fan!Gift Exchange, this is where you post your completed gifts. Once you've finished a gift, please post it as a reply (or several replies if necessary) to this entry.
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They could tip either way, her and Nick. Back to just friends or back to being more, back to figuring it out as they go.
“All the time in the world, right?” he says, later, idling outside her apartment building.
She nods, opens the car door.
Turns back and kisses him, hard.
(She never feels like she has to be careful with him, which is a sign that maybe she should be, with his no pressure you're magic and in-advance date planning and wide open heart. Just a little bit more, she should be.)
"Stay over," she says, against the curve of his mouth. "Stay over or come inside for a bit or something. Please."
He comes inside. He stays.
---
Andy asks him later, in bed, quiet, if he's sure he's okay. If it was the first time. How many times he's killed, if he knows how many. She never asked him about Kandahar, really, some weird ingrained leftover habit from being with Sam, not to ask about the hard stuff, the dark stuff. But: she wants to know. And she thinks he'll tell her, if he asks.
She's right.
---
He’s not a morning person, Nick. She wakes up with his arm slung heavy across her stomach and his breath warm on her neck.
"Ten more minutes," he murmurs, without opening his eyes. "Or twenty. Wouldn't complain about another twenty."
Andy squirms, gets comfortable, and stills. Feels his heart thumping away under her fingertips, warm warm warm.
She always had to drag him out of bed, before, would be half-dressed before he'd even roll over. Even undercover she did; would tiptoe around the apartment the mornings he had the couch. The mornings he didn't, she'd make a racket on purpose just for fun, just to see what it'd take to rouse him. Would drop things in the shower, clank dishes together putting them away, banging cupboards and slamming doors, all until he'd stumble into the kitchen sleepy-haired and vaguely alarmed for her personal safety.
She likes the company, in the mornings, she realizes, likes doing all of her getting-ready motions with someone else nearby. Likes that he's never in a hurry to leave.
Closes her eyes again. She does thing sometimes, when she's anxious or nervous, when she's revving up for a decision she can't quite figure. Visualizes what she wants, and it’s stupid, it’s so stupid, but it started because Dov was heavy into The Secret for a million months and never stopped talking about it and because it seemed like a nice concept. Seeing what you want and then the act of seeing it helps it come true.
Nick in her bed in the morning, draped half across her and protesting the day, is what she sees now. Is what she wants to see.
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Oh, ouch.
To the whole thing, pretty much, but especially that line.
Nice job, brother. Nice job.
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