Disclaimer: I own neither the show nor the characters. I don't earn any money; I just do it for fun.
Author's Note: This was written for the Saint Patrick's Day Bingo Card at nathan_sophie on livejournal. My task was to write a fic based on the prompt "Saint Patrick's Day". This fic is set during season 4, before 'The Lonely Hearts Job'.
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Sophie entered McRory's to find it crowded. People wearing green – green hats, green shirts, green... shoes? – were standing or sitting in every corner. It didn't surprise her; it was Saint Patrick's Day after all, and on her way here, she saw many other people dressed like this. Boston didn't only have a big population of Irish Americans, but also people looking for any excuse to get drunk. Saint Patrick's Day was one of them.
What she didn't find in the bar, though, was Nate. She didn't expect him to wear green in any form, so he should easily stand out in the crowd, but he didn't seem to be there. Moving quickly to a spot recently vacated at the counter, she tried to catch Cora or one of the barmen's eye. When the redhead finally noticed her, Sophie questioned her with a look, and was answered by a finger pointed upwards. She was about to turn away when Cora gestured for her to wait.
"A little crowded here, tonight," Sophie said when Cora stopped before her, ignoring people asking to be served more alcohol.
"Yeah, understatement of the year. He went upstairs when more and more people started to show up, and I forgot to give him this," she explained, putting a plastic bag on the counter. "Would you mind...?"
"Not at all. I was just about to go up, after all."
"Thank you. I'd better get back to it."
"Good luck," Sophie threw over her shoulder as she made her way back to the door.
Usually, she would have gone through the back, but tonight the bar was too crowded to even think about that option. Cora and her employees would have a full night; she doubted that they would be able to close before the early hours of the morning.
As she made her way to the building door, she saw more people coming to the bar. If she ever wondered about the bar maximum capacity, tonight would have probably exceeded her estimates. She was glad that Nate opted out of staying at McRory's during an evening such as this one. She didn't mind the crowd, but it was a bit too much, even for her.
She used her key, and entered Nate's apartment to find him coming down the stairs. His hair was still wet from the shower he had obviously just taken, and she bit her lip, regretting not coming sooner; sharing a shower with him sounded tempting.
"Hey."
"Hey yourself," she greeted back. "I stopped downstairs, but you weren't there."
"Yeah. There are too many people trying to get drunk, there."
"While you'd rather get drunk by yourself," she replied, nodding towards the glass he was filling.
"Would you like to join me?" he asked, pouring a second glass.
"I don't need to get drunk to do this," she answered, still taking the glass he offered.
"I don't need it either."
She knew he was telling the truth; even that first night, back in San Lorenzo, he wasn't as drunk as they both thought he was. Sure, he had forgotten a couple of things – she had too and she might have lied to him just a bit to see what he remembered – but it wasn't the alcohol that had brought them there. And even if it were, when it started happening here in Boston, in this very apartment, there had been no alcohol involved. No, it had only been a matter of time before they got to this point.
"Cora gave me this for you, by the way," she said, putting the plastic bag on the kitchen counter.
"Thank you," he replied, taking containers out of it.
"What is in there?"
"Cora's infamous Irish stew. She got the recipe from her father. He had always refused to give it to me, something about it being a family secret, but he cooked it for me from time to time."
"And now, Cora does too."
"Yes."
"That's great. And it smells really good."
"I'm sure there's more than enough for two in there. Have you had dinner yet?"
She raised her eyebrows at him suggestively and she was pleased to see him blush.
"I... I didn't... You know what I meant."
She did know, but she just couldn't resist it. She had to admit that he was really adorable when he blushed and stammered. Not that she would ever mention that out loud or even in front of him; she could guess that it wouldn't go down well with him to be called adorable. Even though he was.
"I know Nate. And the answer is no. Actually, I wouldn't mind being fed for once during one of our dinners."
This time, he didn't blush but he narrowed his eyes at her.
"Well, today is your lucky day, then."
"I already knew it would be, coming here."
"Would you stop with the double entendre?" he asked, dishing the Irish stew into plates.
She stopped but didn't apologize; she knew he enjoyed it just as much as she did. Leaning in, she kissed the corner of his lips. When she withdrew, he followed and captured her lips with his. He kissed her long and slow, leaving her slightly breathless.
"Dinner first," he said, as her hands started to work the buttons of his shirt. "And then, dinner."
She nodded, pulling away from him. She took the plates to the table, knowing that he would follow with the rest. Not waiting for him, she took a first bite of the meat.
"This is delicious."
"I told you. I don't know what secret ingredient she put in there, but it's better than any other Irish Stew I've ever tasted. Except maybe from my Mom's," he added after a pause.
Nate wasn't one to talk about his parents, so Sophie was quite surprised to hear him mention his mother. If his reasons for not wanting to talk about Jimmy were obvious - the man had after all never been a model of a father for him - his reasons for not talking about his mother weren't. She had never dared ask about the woman who had raised him, hoping that he would tell her about his mother when the time came. It hadn't yet, but this small mention of her showed Sophie that maybe, one day it would.
And she couldn't really complain about it when she wasn't forthcoming either about her own past.
"Nothing compares to what mothers make for their children," she said and they shared a smile.
As they continued eating, Nate told her about Cora's father and his antics. Not for the first time, she wished she had been there when the man died and to help with Mark Doyle. But more than anything else, she wished she had been there for Nate. She knew that leaving the team for a while had been the right choice to make for her, and she had never regretted it, but there were times she knew Nate had needed her and she hadn't been there. And it had been one of these times.
"A penny for your thoughts?" Nate asked when he saw her deep in thought.
"That's what they're worth? Only a penny?" she joked, trying to change the conversation; she didn't want to burden him with these thoughts.
"Oh, I think they're worth a lot more," he replied, accepting that she wouldn't talk to him for the moment.
"That's better," she said, finishing her plate. "It was really delicious. Do you think I can convince Cora to cook this for me once a week?"
"Well, if you can't, you can still share mine whenever you want."
"That will do too. Is there any dessert?" she asked.
"If you're still hungry, there is."
He got up and put their plates in the sink before turning towards the fridge. He opened the freezer and took out a container. Grabbing two spoons, he went back to the table, and placed the container between them.
"Ice cream?" she asked, taking one of the spoons he offered.
"Just not any kind. This is Brown Bread Ice Cream. It's a typical Irish dessert."
"You made it yourself?" she asked; it was obvious he didn't buy it, but she didn't remember having seen it in the plastic bag Cora had given her either.
"Yes. Try it."
She spooned some ice cream and brought it to her mouth. She let it melt on her tongue, trying to identify all the flavours. There was an unmistakable one she recognized immediately.
"There's whiskey in it?"
"Yes. It's in the recipe," he added, pre-empting her next question.
"This is really good too," she said, taking another spoonful of ice cream from the container. "I should really have you feeding me dinner more often."
"I guess I could let myself be convinced, as long as you have good arguments."
"Oh, I can think of a couple already."
Getting up from her chair, she walked towards Nate and sat on his lap. She ran her hands in his hair and kissed him passionately. One of his hands went to her waist, raising her top slightly to uncover a bit of her skin, while his other hand grabbed the back of her head to hold her in place.
"What about dinner, now?" Sophie asked, her lips brushing against his as she spoke.
"Yeah. Definitely."
After one more kiss, she got up from his lap, and held out her hand to him. Nate didn't immediately take it though, but instead grabbed the container and put it back in the freezer. He then walked towards Sophie and wrapped his arms around her waist. He nuzzled his face into her neck, kissing the skin he found there. She giggled as his breath tickled her.
He started to sway her gently from side to side, and even though silence filled the room, it felt like she had been taken back to that high school reunion where they shared their first dance. And yet, this moment was so different than the one they shared then. Then, the moment had been awkward, and not just because complete strangers were looking at them; they hadn't really known where they stood after their kiss and Nate's stay in prison. Now, they couldn't be more at ease with each other.
Sophie knew they weren't acting like friends with benefits but like a real couple these days. Friends with benefits didn't share moments like this. They didn't flirt the way she and Nate did. They didn't have dinner that would look like dates to an outsider. But as much as she tried to convince both Nate and herself at first that it didn't have to be more than sex, she knew that it had never really been true.
And now, she knew that they were transitioning into something real, and Nate had to know too. But neither of them was ready to say it out loud. And it was alright; they could ignore it for the moment, they had time.
"Let's take this upstairs," she whispered, not wanting to break the mood.
He nodded against her neck, before pulling away from her. He took her hand in his and led her up the stairs.
Fin