Disclaimer: Not mine.
Author's Notes: I'm sorta on a mission to write at least a one-shot for every pairing I enjoy reading. My first Nick/Sofia attempt. I had to try. I think they're adorable.
Summary: "I was always told kisses make all things better." Nick/Sofia
Kiss Me, Make It Better
She's standing over by the fountain, running the cool water over her index finger. I notice a little blood, but it's nothing to be worried about. A paper cut at best, but forgive me, does she not look adorable right now. Biting her bottom lip, eyes half shut as she tries to concentrate on anything but the stinging pain. I feel for her, I really do. Paper cuts are a bitch.
Soon enough, the cleansing is over and I dutifully watch her head for the exit. My feet move of their own accord, forcing me to follow her. We've been flirting, I think. I don't know. I think she's into me. I'm most certainly into her. I think it's about time I found out where we really stand.
By the time I'm outside, she's already climbing into her car.
"Sofia!" I call out, mostly out of desperation. Anything to keep her from leaving. She hears me, flashing me a smile that nearly melts my very soul. She exits her car and that's when panic settles in. I had no reason to call her to me other than my own desire to see her. Once she's in front of me, I smile dumbly at her.
"What, Nick?" she says, clearly confused now. "Need something?"
"Uh, I noticed you had an injury," I say, still smiling like a buffoon. I watch her face scrunch up a little as she waves her hand absently.
"Oh, just a paper cut," she says indifferently. "Nothing serious, I promise."
"I don't know about that. Looked like it hurt," I say, giving her the best mock sympathetic look I can muster.
Sofia grins shyly before admitting, "Okay, it hurt a little."
"You know," I tell her, bravely grabbing her hand. "I was always told kisses make all things better."
"Is that so?" she plays along. "Let me guess? Your mother used to kiss your every boo-boo and scrape?"
"Hey, it worked," I grin, then raise Sofia's hand to my lips. I place a light kiss on the injured index finger, before casting my eyes on her. I might be mistaken, but I swear her cheeks take on a pinkish tint. My voice is softer now as I ask, "Better?"
"Much better, yes. Thank you," she replies, meek and unsure. I don't think I've ever seen Sofia Curtis unhinged before. Unbalanced.
I lean in, again an action not of my own accord. My body is just acting and as I inch closer to her mouth, I hear her laugh. Her breath washes over my lips as she reminds me, "Nick, the cut is on my finger."
I smile wide as I answer," I know." Then my lips devour hers, silencing any protest. Although, it's safe to say there was no protest to begin with. There's just her lips and my liberation.
There's just us.