After many a discussion about this episode, the basic feeling that settled over most of the fandom was that we were a little sexually frustrated on behalf of our dear Nick and Jess. So I thought I better fix that to some degree.
Be kind, I've only ever written vague smut…I'm still building on my confidence in the area, so any feedback would be great!
Also, come join me on Twitter and Tumblr (tadpole24_ and wonder24) so we can chat about this awesome show! :)
Disclaimer: We are all about to see how the episode would have ended had I owned the show. Safe to say, I don't.
White Wine for Two
She doesn't even make it to her bed, instead leaning up against her door for a few moments before letting her legs go limp under her and sinking to the floor. She finds herself wishing that they had just gone for hotdogs, because she is starving, but can't bring herself to eat for fear of upsetting her tension induced, jittery stomach.
Why the hell did he have to make it so difficult? Neither one of them are stupid, they know exactly what's going on between them. The heavy sense of want and arousal completely overtaking them every time they set eyes on each other, the uncomfortable way their conversation always leaks back to something sexual and needy.
She groans, throwing her head back against her door in frustration. It shouldn't be this hard. When she thinks about how his mouth moves so perfectly over hers, how the hairs on her arms stand up because he sends tingles all through her at a simple touch, how his hands run the length of her torso, burning her with his sure touch, she can't see how it could possibly be this convoluted. How did their signals to each other get so jumbled? Why can't they just break past their self-inflicted barriers and let it happen?
There won't be any sleep for her tonight, she will crawl into bed and think about him gargling his beer and wearing his stupid fancy suit and the effort he put in after asking her to go for food. So instead of that inevitability, she finds herself getting to her feet and sneaking out to the kitchen.
Her original intention was to just return the food she'd taken earlier, but a bottle of wine catches her eye when she opens the fridge and what the hell, it's not as if she's sleeping anyway. She forgoes a glass, taking a healthy swig from the bottle as she sets herself down on the couch, switching on the TV, turning it to mute and laughing quietly at terrible infomercials.
And this is how Nick finds her only ten minutes later.
Winston's damn phone has been pinging every five seconds with messages he's assuming are only coming through now because he's finally been able to charge it, so Nick is storming out to the kitchen to find ear plugs. He grinds to a halt just inside the living room though, seeing Jess curled up on the couch. Suddenly he wishes that his steps had been a little quieter so that he may have had a chance to turn around and sneak back to his room without dealing with this.
But as fate and his hell bad luck would have it, he is making as much noise as possible.
She looks up from her mind-numbing TV commercials, and with wide blue eyes she silently offers her wine to him.
It would seem he's used all of his restraint reserves for the night because he doesn't even hesitate, throwing himself onto the couch next to her, leaving just enough distance between them that it makes him want to squirm with how ridiculous it is. They've touched before, they've sat together on this seat more times than he could ever count, his arm around her, or their legs pressed together. It shouldn't be this weird.
He takes a swig, "What is with you and white wine? There are better things to get drunk off." Even as he says it, he sips from the bottle again.
She shrugs, snatching the bottle back, "Maybe I want to keep my wits about me a little."
He can't fathom why. He just wants to forget.
He'll always do as she asks though. Always. When she told him she didn't want him to kiss her anymore, he didn't. He waited for her to make the move. And tonight when she told him no more funny business…well, he'll obey that little rule as well. No matter how crazy and ridiculous it seems to him.
They're damn amazing together.
He wishes she would just let it happen.
Or that she would at least be downing shots of whiskey so he could join in on that pity party and just fucking forget. Because looking at her sitting there in her jeans, with her pretty blue eyes just kills him with want. Need for her.
He grabs the bottle, downing all but a little in one gulp.
She glares at him, her mouth hanging open, "Nick! That was nice wine!"
He just swings the bottle by the neck, sloshing the remaining liquid against the sides, completely unimpressed by the effects of the current alcohol, "It's still nice wine."
She purses her lips before pouncing at him, trying to get the bottle back from him. She tries to ignore the way his hand fumbles its way up her side, grazing her chest in the process, trying to push her off of his lap, but it send shivers down her spine and that maddens her.
Because she just wants her damn wine, "Just…why Nick, why can't I have it?"
She's got her arms outstretched in an almost comical way and he would be laughing if he wasn't so pissed off at her, "'Cause I have to pay over a grand worth of fines for walking across the road and I get nothing from it, Jessica. I just wanted to take you on a nice date, eat some fancy food and maybe sort out what the hell we are." She presses her heel into his thigh, using him as leverage to reach further and tackle the wine away from him, "And I got none of that and now I've got no wine."
He shakes his head, pulling himself out from under her, going to the kitchen and trying to find something harder hitting than wine.
However, he can only find Schmidt's stash of melon liqueur and wants to smash a bottle in frustration.
He glances at the couch where Jess has turned her back to him, holding the wine bottle on her lips, emptying its contents into her mouth. Grabbing the green liqueur he takes a long pull from it, almost gagging on the sickly sweet taste, but feeling that slight tingling burn of the alcoholic content and relishing in the sting.
He drinks again, but this time when he opens his eyes from the concentration of having to swallow that stuff, he's greeted by Jess' blue eyes once again, "What?"
She takes the bottle from his hands, "What did you write on that card?"
He pulls his turtle face at her, shaking his head, "What did you write on yours?"
"I asked first."
He filches the alcohol back from her, knocking back a decent mouthful before leaning towards her, across the counter, "Yeah but I asked you on a date in the first place, so you know where I stand."
She matches his lean, refusing to back down, "You hardly asked."
He inches forward, the smell of the sweet liqueur mixing on their breaths in between them, making their mouths water in anticipation. Jess' eyes dart down to his lips as his tongue comes out to wet them and this time she's not complaining, pushing herself closer until…
He pulls back suddenly, taking the bottle with him and walking back towards his room without a word.
But she's not having it and this time she chases him, pulling on his arm with one hand, grabbing the back of his neck with the other and propelling herself forward and into him. She hesitates for a fraction of a second before just doing it, just closing that gap and kissing him.
One arm comes around her as she stands on her toes, trying to climb as high as she can onto him. He drops the bottle of alcohol, but can't find it in himself to care as he finally finds the right leverage to pull her up and throw her down onto the couch, coming to stand over her, devouring her with his gaze. She meets his staring eyes and sees the certainty there, nodding, letting him know that for tonight and for as many night after this as he damn well wants, she is his.
And then he is all over her. His lips drawing her in possessively, his hands pinning hers above her head as one of his legs comes between hers, his knee gently nudging that juncture that the top of her jean clad thighs, feeling her heat as she groans into his mouth.
He leaves a heated trail of kisses along her jawline, biting and licking his way down her neck, "I wanted to ask you better than I did." His nose nudges against the top of her shirt, offended that the piece of material is blocking his path to her more…squishable assets.
She shakes her head, moaning as he releases one of her hands to come down to lay across her upper breast. She grabs his hand, taking it down to the hem of her shirt and pushing it up under, "Dammit Miller, just touch me."
And he does, running a thumb along her already hardened peak, meeting this with a bite through her shirt and bra, "Take these off," he commands, sitting back and picking her up in his arms again, wrapping her legs around his back. She does as he wishes, pulling the shirt over her head and unclasping her bra just has he crashes into her room, pushing the door shut behind them and pressing her up against it, "Now mine."
His eyes are dark and hers are bright and she's hit with a force that this shouldn't work. But as they shed the rest of their clothes, grabbing at pants, tearing through his shirt and her underwear, and he hovers over her on the bed with that possessive gleam in his eye, she realises that it doesn't matter what they are on those little pieces of paper. Why should it? It was a game invented by the man in her past who had no comprehension of passion, had no desire to make it work with her and was clearly still bitter about her not wanting to make it work with him.
This, though, this feels too good and that's what matters.
This feels right and that's what matters.
His lips tease the sensitive shell of her ear, "I have wanted this for so long. And I want it for more than just tonight," he dips his head to kiss her jaw for a moment, drunk on the taste of her, not wanting to go without for more than a couple of seconds. Dragging himself back to her ear, he adds, "I don't know what that means for us and I fucking still love Russel, but this is our thing now. This is you and me figuring it out. Got it?"
She's breathy and gorgeous as she whispers back, "Got it," with conviction.
And then he is inside her and she bites down on his shoulder to keep from screaming his name. He hisses as he lets her body adjust to him, only beginning to move when she releases his skin from her teeth.
"God Jess, feel so good," he runs his hands up her sides again, pressing his fingers into her ribs, trying to keep it together.
She can only moan in response, seemingly unable to form a coherent thought right now as the pace between their joined bodies only increases.
He lets out a dark chuckle at the thought that he is the one getting to do this to her now, that he is the one rendering her speechless, that he is the one making her body hum in arousal. He kisses her hard, sweeping his tongue into her mouth, as she arches her body underneath him, trying to draw him deeper into her.
"Mmm," she whimpers, her body jerking as he hits that sweet spot, "Close." She closes her eyes, concentrating on the feeling of him, barely able to form words. He reaches between their bodies, pressing his thumb against the sensitive apex of her thighs, and she begins repeating, "Yes, yes, yes," over and over again.
He braces his other hand next to her head, leaning down to brush his lips over her ear once more, "I wanna see your eyes when you come for me, Jessica."
He feels her body tighten around him then, her eyes heavy lidded but open as she whispers back at him, "Come with me."
And it's the combination of it all that does him in. With her body pulsing around him, he crashes into her for a few seconds more before joining her in their burst of pure pleasure. He buries his head in her neck, kissing, biting, sucking, anything to keep from screaming out.
They stay locked together for a while, neither one of them really wanting to move, neither of them having the energy. He soothes the bite marks across her neck with sweet kisses, mumbling apologies for the already forming bruises.
"It's okay," she says quietly, finally regaining her ability to speak, as she runs her hand along his own set of bruises. It was never going to be gentle for a pair that fought constantly though. Not that either of them would have it any other way.
As they find comfortable positions for the night, Nick at Jess' back, arm slung around her waist, hand resting on her upper boob, he finally says it out loud, "You're my girlfriend. I'm your boyfriend." It's not a question. It's just how he sees it.
She smiles, shuffling in closer to him, "I like that."
And as they drift off to sleep, she feels the pangs of hunger settle in her stomach once more, taking over from the anger, the frustration, the tension.
She takes that as a good sign.