Title: Will O' The Wisp
Rating: R
Genre and/or Pairing: Drama, Nikita/Owen/Michael
Spoilers: Midseason one
Warnings: Het, threesome
Summary: Nikita, Owen, Michael are on the run and hiding out in the bayou. Michael starts to freak out. They calm him down.
Notes: Written for the nikita comment ficathon.

Adrenaline still coursed through her as they strode into the swamp side shack with the air strip and Cessna hidden among the oaks and Spanish moss. Nikita had set this escape route up long ago but she never had thought that she would be running with both Michael and Owen at her side. Cracking her neck, she kicked off her boots before walking to the small basin to freshen up. She washed the gunpowder off, ignoring the argument brewing between the men, then splashed water on her face.

"Did you not pay attention in logic and planning- how is 'Mexico' a plan?" Michael threw up his hands, tie askew, and blood on his suit jacket. Birkoff's. Not his. Getting Michael out of Division's grip had been messier than any of them had wanted.

Owen rolled his eyes and crossed his arms as he leaned against a dusty cast iron stove. "Its simple. We get them off our tracks then head off the grid." Owen looked more amused than worried as his tired eyes twinkled at Michael.

Michael got up into Owen's face. "Simple? Are you-"

Nikita couldn't stand it anymore and got between them. She placed her finger on MIchael's lips and shot Owen a warning look. "Boys, do I have to turn this car around? Besides, I have us covered. We're taking the Cessna to the Dominican Republic and then we'll meet my man in the Azores." She smiled and backed away, hands in her pockets. "Now, kiss and make up."

A sly look crept onto Owen's face before he grabbed Michael by shoulders and kissed him before leaning back on the oven again. "Consider us made up."

Nikita pressed herself to Michael, kissed him playfully, hoping to defuse any tension before narrowing her eyes at Owen. They had a long journey ahead of them and she didn't need to moderate a macho pissing contest the whole way. Nikita turned back to Michael. "Don't worry for now."

He searched her face and ran his thumb over her bottom lip before he seemed to make a decision. Michael leaned closer to Nikita and kissed her.

She gasped, expecting him to push her away, before letting herself enjoy the kiss, certain it would end soon. There was so much left unsaid between them. Nikita had missed the feel of him under her hands. She ran her fingers down from his shoulders, over his pecs, and under his jacket to his back as the brush of lips turned deeper into a clash of tongues.

Owen coughed. "Still in the room, guys."

"Yeah, we know." Michael pulled away from Nikita to grab Owen by the collar and kiss him.

Owen smirked. "I don't remember this part of logic and planning."

Nikita laughed, arm still around Michael's waist, before patting Owen on the cheek. "Obviously, you weren't paying attention."

Percy was on their trail, Alex was flying solo in Division, and there was only more danger ahead, but in the balmy swamp night, she could forget. After tonight, they wouldn't have another hour of rest until Percy was dead. They were lost and damned, marked for death, and every moment could be their last. She could see it reflected in Michael and Owen's eyes. Kissing Owen, Nikita knew that she would make every second count. There was no holding back anymore.