Oof, almost forgot to post this :S I came home from work and had a nap and then had dinner and then got hooked on 'Teen Mom' (yeah, I know, shush) and it wasn't until ZaraShade updated Telepathic that I remembered I still had to do this! So y'all should thank her profusely :P
Thank you to those who suggested Christmas ornaments to me but I ended up going with a different idea, sorry :) Also thanks to Sailor's Wife, ZaraShade and leew1 for their song suggestions. Some were suggestions made multiple times but I've just used the first people to suggest them here.
Also thank you to INfamouslyCK for telling me I'm not a crazy kid (despite evidence to the contrary)
Hugs and kisses to all my wonderful reviewers, your kind words (and not so gentle pleas to have these two get it on already) have kept me going and made the next one a whole lotta fun.
See y'all next week!
xx
It was a week until Christmas and, with dubiously granted permission, the majority of the residential corridors had been decorated to within an inch of recognition. Gaudy baubles hung from the ceiling, tinsel lined the corridors and pots of candy canes were dotted around the place. How two people and an abnormal had managed to create such a Christmas explosion Helen would never understand and, quite frankly she didn't want to. She liked Christmas, she really did but she hated the commercialism of it all. She preferred handmade paper chains and old fashioned wreaths. That was the way to decorate properly. But, of course, being in the twenty first century demanded some concessions, and with that went her dreams of a tasteful Christmas.
Sighing, Helen rounded yet another festooned corner in search of the small if not slightly rustic kitchen buried within the bowels of the Sanctuary. It was seldom used, barely stocked and generally avoided by the others on her staff which, in her opinion made it perfect. It would almost certainly be free of all this plastic-y holiday cheer.
She was smiling slightly as she neared her destination but Helen's step faltered as a rather choice cuss reached her ears. Brow furrowed she picked up the pace, alarmed by the faint smell of smoke reaching her nostrils. There was a great clang and bang followed by another oath and all at once Helen didn't need to open the door to know who was so obviously displeased.
"What on earth is that matter Nikola?" she asked, pushing open the door and leaning against the doorjamb. Nikola spun on his heel to face her, guilt written all over his face. The faintly acidic smell of burnt goods was stronger now and, taking in the blackened pile on the table, it all fell into place. His entire body was covered in a fine layer of flour, right from this once shiny black shoes all the way up to his hair which appeared several shades lighter (and greyer) than normal. The sleeves of his usually pristine suit were rolled up and his waistcoat was unbuttoned, giving him a disturbingly dishevelled look. And the batter smeared on his cheek did nothing to help.
The room was warm despite the snow falling outside and, if he hadn't looked so flustered, Helen would have thought the scene to be almost homey. Well, aside from the mountain of pots and pans sitting on every available work surface. The large oven against one wall was blazing away and, had the contents not been blackened beyond recognition, she assumed the room would smell of baked goods. Noting all the effort that had been put into the destruction of her kitchen, Helen began to smirk.
Nikola, seeming to regain his composure straightened up, shooting her a small apologetic smile and Helen burst out laughing, his sheepish expression coupled with the disaster he'd created so foreign to her that she had no idea what to do.
"It's not that funny," he huffed, crossing his arms but she could see the sparkle of humour in his eyes. Still laughing she walked further into the room to inspect the damage he'd caused. Shaking her head and rolling her eyes at him, Helen smiled. He was clearly upset at being found out and, though she'd never admit it, he looked even more adorable for it.
"What were these meant to be?" she asked with a barely suppressed chuckle as she gestured to the blackened mess his cooking had produced. Nikola opened his mouth to respond but promptly closed it, spinning on his heel and dashing over to the oven.
"No!" he wailed pitifully as he dragged out yet another tray of ruined... something, Helen still wasn't sure what it was. Biting her lip to stop from laughing, Helen moved closer to peer over his shoulder.
"My question stands," she commented, wrinkling her nose and stepping back. With a flourish Nikola all but threw the tray onto the nearest table, planting his hands on hips as he pouted at her.
"I was making you cookies," he groused. "But clearly I've found just about the only thing I'm terrible at in the whole world!" he added dramatically, throwing his hands up in despair.
"You're also a terrible singer," she allowed with a grin. "But why were you making me cookies? Trying to fatten me up?" she asked, cocking her head. Not once in their entire time together had Nikola ever shown even the slightest inclination to take up baking.
"Because it's almost Christmas," he muttered, surveying the mess he'd created.
"You know you can buy them?" she asked, fingering one of the cooled cookies gingerly, dusting her fingers off as it crumbled in her hands.
"It's not the same," he complained. "I wanted to make you cookies to take to you this evening as you drank your tea only I was going to make you a hot chocolate instead."
Helen said nothing, simply raising her eyebrows in question. There was just too much in that statement that made no sense.
"It was supposed to be one of those sweet, romantic-y things the protégé is always doing for blondie," he admitted under his breath and Helen wasn't certain if she should melt or laugh at the idea.
"Will made Abby cookies?" she asked sceptically. Her young friend may be painfully sappy when it came to his girlfriend but she'd never imagined baking to be his style.
"No, he's just... You know..." Nikola said uncomfortably. "And it's Christmas and I just wanted to do something nice."
"Well, you certainly get an A for effort," she said with a grin, reaching out to pat his shoulder comfortingly.
"Stop gloating," he muttered, eyeing her angrily.
"Oh come on," she said with a chuckle and then a bolt of inspiration struck. "Where's your recipe?"
"What?" Nikola asked nervously as she began to search through the mountains of mess.
"You wanted to make cookies," she said, voice muffled as she continued to search, "so let's make cookies."
"Helen," he sighed, "not only are you missing the point, but you're just as terrible as me when it comes to baking."
"That's what you think," she said, waving a rather gloop covered recipe victoriously.
"Oh come on, I might be old but I remember very clearly that one time you tried to make a birthday cake for Nigel. The damn thing made us all sick for a week!"
"Well, I've had quite a while to hone my skills," she said with a grin. "And while soufflé might still be a little beyond me, shortbread cookies shouldn't present too much of a challenge." Nikola scoffed and she raised her eyebrows. "Do you want to do this or not?"
He sighed at her but nodded and, although he seemed to be reluctant, she saw the gleam of excitement in his eye.
"First things first," she ordered, hands on hips. "We've got to clean away this mess." Nikola opened his mouth to protest but the stern glare she fixed him with shut him up rather effectively. "Not everything," she clarified, "after all there's no point in cleaning the entire place when there's a good chance it'll need to be cleaned again."
"See, even you have no faith in your ability as a baker," he said with a grin as they began.
"Actually I simply have a good memory," she countered sedately. "How many labs have you destroyed again?"
"That's a low blow," he muttered, grabbing several of the dirtied implements and lugging them over to the rapidly filling kitchen sink.
"Well, if you stop making snide remarks about my baking, I'll stop pointing out your innumerable failings," she joked, dodging out of his way as he tried to use a greasy looking bowl as a weapon. "And if you ruin this outfit, I'll have your hide," she promised unbuttoning her jacket and tossing it onto the chair in the corner.
"I must say, it is rather fetching," he said with a smirk, dragging his eyes up and down her body. Rolling her eyes, Helen shook off his gaze and strode over to where she'd set the recipe in the middle of the table. Certain that he was staring at her behind, she sighed.
"Focus, Nikola," she muttered, turning around, shocked to find that far from staring at her black clad buttocks, he was fiddling with a small radio in the corner.
"Pardon?" he asked, barely glancing over his shoulder as he attempted to coax life into the rather beaten looking box.
"Oh, it's nothing," Helen said, waving a hand dismissively, feeling a little embarrassed. This less overtly sexual Nikola was taking a little getting used to. In the past few weeks, aside from the bathtub incident and a few comments as he'd walked around the markets with her, he'd been distractingly polite. He'd given her the occasional peck on the cheek but the innocent brush of his lips was absent of anything except token affection she afforded to the rest of her team. Sure his smirk sometimes said more than enough for her to follow his train of thought but in terms of desperate attempts to get her to fall into bed with him, there had been none.
Suddenly the radio crackled to life and Nikola turned to face her with a triumphant grin as Let It Snow floated through the air, the classical rendition of the old song filling Helen with the Christmas spirit the others believed she lacked.
"Remind me to fix up that old thing later," Nikola said, sauntering over to her with as much aplomb as a man covered in flour could. Side by side they stood for a second, studying the recipe before Nikola sighed.
"It looks so easy," he complained, earning himself another chuckle.
"You just need to relax, Nikola," Helen soothed. "Cooking is meant to be enjoyable." He pouted at her once more and Helen sighed. "Go get me the plain flour and confectioners' sugar."
"This isn't going to be fun if you keep ordering me around," he said before heeding her words.
"It'll be fun for me," she said with a shrug, heading to the fridge.
"Which is why I'm dubious."
Helen merely chuckled as she gathered what she needed from the fridge, moving it to sit in straight lines on the workbench they'd cleared.
"So," she said with a grin, "ready to be domesticated?"
"In your dreams," Nikola taunted with a salacious grin that told her more than words ever could. Fighting a blush Helen turned back to the bench, double checking the beaten paper before grabbing a clean mixing bowl.
"First up, we need 250 grams of butter," she ordered, holding her hand out to a rather bemused looking Nikola.
"Ready and waiting," he said with a smirk, placing a fresh stick of butter in her hand. "Now what?"
"Now you're going to get a work out," she replied smoothly as she chopped the butter into cubes. When Nikola didn't reply, she risked a glance over her shoulder, stilling the knife as she did so.
"Simply admiring the view," he said from where he leant against a chair. "All you need is an apron and some more sensible shoes and you'd be the perfect house wife."
"You seem to have forgotten who started this cooking expedition," she reminded him with a stern look but Nikola only chuckled, sauntering back to her side to peer into the heavy bowl she'd placed the butter in.
"Is this where the 'work out' comes into it?" he asked dubiously and she chuckled, pushing the bowl and mixer towards him.
"Beat until smooth."
"Oh, Helen," Nikola started with a wide grin.
"Just do it," she replied tartly. "And no more innuendo or I'll have to ruin all your pretty little suits."
"It's not my fault," he exclaimed as he began to beat the butter. "You bring it out in me!"
"Don't blame your filthy mind on me," she chastised, leaning a hip against the table. Nikola rolled his eyes but said nothing for a few moments. His brow creased in frustration.
"What is it now?" she asked, getting exasperated.
"Can't we just melt it?" he asked sheepishly, putting down the beater. "It's so much easier..." he trailed, off seeing the incredulous look she was giving him.
"You have to follow the instructions," she admonished, unable to keep the gleam of laughter from her eyes. "Surely the scientist in you was able to point that out."
"I'm an inventor," he clarified. "I invent. You're the one who had to follow prescribed methods."
She chuckled, allowing his logic. "Either way, we are not melting the butter," she said with an easy smile.
"You know, I really don't think this is going to turn out much differently to my cookies," he said, raising an eyebrow as he continued to work on the butter. "Surely the over-cooking was more at fault than my want to cut corners."
"Just do as I say," Helen said with a sigh as she watched him work. It took only a few minutes for him to cream the butter but as she pulled the bowl from his arms he scowled.
"I'm never baking again," he declared. "It's too much work."
"Be quiet and mix in the confectioners' sugar," she said lightly, emptying the half cup over the bowl.
"For a woman who can't bake you're awfully bossy," he replied with a grin, taking back the bowl and doing as she instructed.
"And for a genius, you're a complete dunce when it comes to home crafts," she bit back and he chuckled.
"You forget Helen. In our time this was not supposed to be a man's domain."
"And you forget that, regardless of the era, the kitchen was never my domain."
"Which was my original point," he said. "Neither of us have any experience here so we should just go get the walking carpet and ask for his help."
Her slap to his shoulder made him jump and scowl but he said nothing, allowing her mind to fill in the dirty gaps his lack of words left.
"Right, what now?" Nikola asked, setting the bowl aside and turning to her with a grin. "Finished fantasising about me?"
"Now," she said, sending him a pointed look, "we add the vanilla extract. Stir it gently until it's combined."
There was a pause as Nikola did just that but soon enough he sighed.
"What would happen if, hypothetically, we were to just... throw it all into a bowl and mix?" he asked quietly, shooting her a quick glance from the corner of his eye as he focused on the bowl.
"Oh Nikola," Helen said, appalled. "Really?"
"I said hypothetically," he cried, looking at her, the picture of innocence.
"Go take a bite of one of your cookies and find out," she advised and he rolled his eyes.
"I was never terribly good at following rules, you know that Helen so stop being so mean about this," he moaned, turning his attention back to the batter.
"You're doing very well at following my orders now," she said with a grin only to be met with a smirk.
"Don't," she ordered, holding up a hand before handing him the bowl she'd used to sift the flour together.
Nikola chuckled.
"Don't."
He stepped closer.
"Nikola," she warned, hands on hips.
Then he began to reach for her, a single hand headed to her cheek and she was powerless to move. She wanted to jerk out of the way, slap at his hand, even say something to deter his actions but she couldn't. He was going to cup her cheek, she just knew it. And then he'd lean in and kiss her but she couldn't move, she couldn't stop him before he got that far. Her breathing hitched as his fingertip brushed her cheek but instead of moving his palm to her cheek, his thumb brushed against the tip of her nose.
"You're just as messy as me," he said quietly. "Flour from head to toe."
She felt the grains on her nose give way easily and then his hand was gone, resting on his hips as he smiled at her, nothing but a dark twinkle in his eye to indicate that he knew where her thoughts had gone.
"Please," she choked out, turning away from him. "You've practically gone grey. Now mix these together gently."
"Yes ma'am," Nikola drawled, winking at her before turning back to the task at hand and she was surprised to find herself unable to look away from his hands as they steadied the bowl and carefully mixed together the two substances. His hands, while caked with flour, were still graceful, long and lean like the rest of him. His fingers were slender and feminine but still somehow exuded strength. Like the man himself, his hands were a walking contradiction.
"Yes, I know they're filthy," Nikola said with a sigh, interrupting her thoughts. "But it's all this flour. It is surprisingly sticky."
"Only if you stir it that vigorously," she chastised. "You need to slow down, like this." Reaching over she placed her hands atop his, guiding them so that he'd stop trying to whip the batter.
"Did I pick the slowest biscuits to make in the history of biscuits?" he asked, shaking his head. "Because I honestly hadn't meant for this to take so long."
"Well, have no fear, we're done," she announced, dragging her hands from his as he dropped the wooden spoon gratefully.
"Now?"
"Grab the plastic wrap," she instructed as she took a handful of flour, dusting the bench with it.
"Oh you are so cleaning that up," he muttered as he returned to her side and she chuckled.
"If you want to eat any of these you'll help me," she said, scraping the mixture out onto the floured bench. "Now I want a large sheet of that ready when I say, alright?"
"It's a good thing I adore you," he said, shaking his head. "There's no one else I'd allow to treat me like a slave."
"This was your idea," she reminded him, carefully shaping the dough. "I only stepped in because of your inability to follow instructions."
"I thought we established that I can follow instructions, most specifically yours but I chose not to?" he replied before stepping back. "Ready when you are Doctor."
"Oh you're learning. Wonderful," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes as she lifted the disc slowly, placing it in the middle of the large sheet he'd laid out.
"Why aren't you kneading it?" he asked nonchalantly, leaning against the bench to peer down at her as she wrapped the mixture.
"Because you aren't meant to knead it," she replied, shaking her head and sighing. "Now go put this in the refrigerator," she instructed, handing him the disc. Rolling his eyes at her Nikola turned on his heel, depositing it as she asked before turning back, hands on hips, to raise an eyebrow at her.
"So mistress, what's next?"
"Cheeky," she reprimanded. "Now we clean."
Nikola's face dropped and she couldn't help but laugh as he pouted at her.
"You aren't getting out of this," she said, waggling a finger at him before heading to the radio, turning it up as one of her most hated and loved song came on.
"What is that?" Nikola asked, scrunching up his nose as he pulled open the dishwasher.
"Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer," she answered with a small smile. "It was Ashley's favourite."
"Oh heavens," Nikola said, rolling his eyes as he shuddered. "Couldn't you have given her some more appropriate carols?"
She could see the slight tinge of apprehension in his eyes at the turn the conversation had taken but Helen was thankful he hadn't instantly dropped it. As much as Ashley's death left a gap in her heart, skirting around the issue like she might fall apart if anyone ever brought up her daughter felt like an insult to Ashley's memory. She would always be missed but she ought to be remembered for the bright young woman she'd been too.
"Don't blame me," Helen said, raising her hands. "One year we spent Christmas with James and when we came back she'd listen to nothing else."
"I always knew Sherlock was out to get me," he drawled, shaking his head. "Are you sure there was nothing you could do to change her mind?"
"Unfortunately no. If Uncle James liked it, Ashley loved it. If I told her hitting repeat one more time would result in no dessert for a week she'd flash me a smile, hit repeat and James would give her a second helping."
At that Nikola dropped the bowl in his hand.
"James liked it?"
"I asked if he'd like me recommend a good therapist or two."
"James?" he asked again before snickering. "Mr 'I-miss-having-to-open-doors-for-women-in-corsets-and-electricity-reduces-productivity-of-the-work-force-because-its-just-too-easy' liked that."
"Oh, he still liked the classics," Helen said with a smile. "But in the three weeks we were there I must have heard that damn song a hundred time a day. That was about the time I decided I hated cassette tapes."
"You know," Nikola said, grabbing the last dish from the sink, "I'm not entirely sure we're talking about the same James. Beard? Bad dress sense? A startling fondness for brandy among more illicit substances?"
"I held him responsible for the corruption of my daughter for almost a decade," she said loftily, grabbing a cloth. "And never let him live it down."
Nikola shook his head and chuckled, following her lead and, in a matter of minutes the entire kitchen was spotless.
"It's a shame we've got to mess this all up in a little under an hour," Helen said with a sigh and Nikola's eyes bulged.
"What?"
"Come on," she said with a chuckle. "Sit down and I'll make you a cup of tea to calm your frazzled nerves."
"Make yourself some tea and I'll go grab a bottle of red," he quipped and she shook her head.
"Sit Nikola. It's barely 3pm and most certainly not the time for drinking."
"You're getting stale in your old age dear," he drawled with a smile.
"And you'll end up pickled," she retorted. "Now sit and I'll make you tea."
Nikola sighed but said nothing more, taking a seat at the kitchen table as she began to prepare the drinks for them. Smiling softly Helen grabbed a pair of mugs just as the song on the radio changed and, before she knew it, she was humming along, completely oblivious to Nikola's amused gaze following her as she bopped lightly to the tune.
"I take it you like this one," Nikola said quietly, startling Helen. Spinning to face him with wide eyes, she cocked her head. "Not only were you humming but your little dance moves were adorable."
Helen felt herself flush at his words, turning back to the nearly ready tea, making sure to keep a firm hold on her inner dancing queen.
"What's it called?" he asked quietly. "It's a little... corny but better than the other atrocity, I'll give you that."
"Um, I believe it's called 'Christmas Is All Around," she said, fighting the blush as she grabbed the mugs and turned to face him.
"By?"
"Sung by Bill Nighy as Billy Mack," she said and Nikola sighed.
"You aren't very good at giving straight answers are you?"
"It's from a movie," she explained, shooting him a dark look as she placed a mug in front of him.
"Am I going to have to drag this from you word by word?" he asked conversationally, taking a sip of tea before making a face and putting it back down on the table. "Because I will if need be."
Helen rolled her eyes, shaking her head before taking a drink of tea. He knew she was embarrassed but clearly wasn't willing to let it drop.
"Alright then," he said, leaning forward. "Can you tell me the name of the movie?"
"Love Actually," she said with a sigh.
"Now now, there's no need to be so condescending," he chastised, frowning at her.
"Nikola, the movie's called Love Actually," she replied, emphasising the words. It wasn't until she saw his wide grin that she realised she'd been had.
"Never seen it," he said with a smirk. "But I think we should watch it, don't you?"
"Now why would I think that?" she asked sceptically. "It's not as though we've got the time now."
"Oh, once the cookies are done," he said with a dismissive flick of his hand.
"I don't own it," Helen said, certain that this would, at the very least put him off somewhat. There was no point in letting on that it was in fact one of her favourite movies or that she didn't have a copy because she'd leant it to Henry last time Erica was in town.
"I'm sure one of the children do," he replied, nonplussed. Sighing quietly, Helen shook her head. It wasn't that she had work to do but spending an evening with Nikola watching the one movie that always made her feel teary and alone wasn't a good idea in any way shape or form.
"So," Nikola said, smiling genially at her. "What do we do while we wait?"
There was almost no gleam in his eye and certainly no smirk on his lips but Helen's mind instantly told her what they ought to spend the next 38 minutes doing. The kitchen didn't have security cameras after all.
Trying to will her thoughts to more appropriate avenues, Helen stared him down, silently chastising him for words he hadn't said.
"Do you have cookie cutters?" she asked suddenly, finally finding something they could do.
"On me?" he asked with a grin. "Of course not. I hadn't really thought about making them into anything more alluring than blobs."
"For one of the most brilliant minds of the past two centuries you're remarkably unimaginative," she scolded, standing up. "Stay here, I'll be back."
And with that she was out the door.
By the time she arrived back, arms laden with supplies, Nikola was standing by the window, his tea discarded in the sink.
"I was wondering if you'd left me to deal with the cookies whilst you handled another emergency," he said, raising an eyebrow as she dumped the paper, pens and scissors she'd brought with her.
"Don't worry Nikola, I'd never leave you alone with the dangerous and nerve wracking task of rolling out the dough on your own," she replied with a grin, taking a seat and gesturing for him to join her.
"Please don't tell me we're making paper chains," he said apprehensively, eyeing the supplies.
"What have you got against paper chains?" she asked before taking a sip of her now lukewarm tea.
"Nothing per se," he said, making a face. "But every time you used to force us to help you make them, someone would get a paper cut, normally you and then I'd have to pretend I had somewhere else to be and run from the room."
"Was it really that bad?" she asked quietly, looking at him sadly.
"The first Christmas was the worst," he said. "After that it got easier but once we drifted apart it made the years I was home with you a bit harder."
Helen bowed her head, unsure of how to proceed. She'd known he'd struggled with even the smallest amount of blood but knowing that her insistence that they all partake in her favourite tradition had caused him hardship made her feel guilty.
"Cheer up buttercup," he quipped, rapping his knuckles on the table to draw her out of her melancholy. "I'm yet to devour you so there's no need to be so down on yourself."
"You make it sound like a distinct possibility," she said sceptically.
"Always," he replied, grinning at her but saying nothing more, once again letting her mind take the statement to places he'd obviously intended but not specified.
"Cookies," she said firmly, pushing a pen, a few sheets of paper and a pair of scissors towards him.
"No Helen," he said patiently. "This is paper. We mustn't eat it."
"You said you didn't have cookies cutters," she explained, glaring at him. "So we'll make stencils instead."
"So no ambiguous blobs," he said cheerfully, pulling the paper towards him. "What shapes do I make?"
"Whatever takes your fancy," Helen replied, not looking up from where she was already drawing.
"Come on Helen, give me a clue?"
"Make a Christmas tree," she said, shaking her head at his inability to make such a decision.
Nikola sighed. "Boring."
"Then come up with something else. Just don't make it too fiddly though, they're only cookies and the thinner it is, the more easily it will burn."
"Yes mother," Nikola drawled, rolling his eyes before getting to work. They worked silently for a few minutes, the gentle strains of 'The Twelve Days of Christmas' washing over them. It wasn't until Helen nicked her finger with the point of her scissors that they stopped.
"Bugger," she muttered, shaking her hand to dispel the pain of the prick. Then she looked up at Nikola, his eyes trained on her finger as his hands froze midair.
"Sorry," she said, sticking the digit into her mouth before she could make anything worse.
"It's fine," he answered smoothly, eyes still trained on where her lips were pursed around her finger although she didn't think it had anything to do with the blood anymore. "I'm perfectly in control," he continued, reaching over slowly to pull at her wrist until he was able to examine the small cut. His eyes flickered from her hand to her face for one second before he slowly began to raise her hand to his lips. Gently he pressed his lips against her fingertip, eyes never leaving hers as he did so. Helen felt her breathing hitch and she briefly registered that she ought to pull away but before any of these thoughts really clicked, he released her with a smirk.
"You thought I was going to suck you dry, didn't you?" he asked with a chuckle. "You might taste delicious Helen but you know I'll always ask before attempting something like that, as much as you might enjoy the thrill of the surprise."
"Oh be quiet and keep drawing," she huffed, turning back to her papers.
"I'm done," he said happily, leaning back. "Beat you."
"You know, I've never really found that I admire men who are so quick on the draw," she said, giving him a serene smile.
"One of these days Helen, I am going to get you back for all the ridiculous innuendo you pile our conversations with."
"Me?" she asked incredulously. "You know this is a prime example of the pot calling the kettle black?"
"But the difference is, you love it when I do it. When you start playing dirty, I get worried."
"I do not play dirty," Helen said firmly. "I give as good as I get."
"And the difference is?" he asked, leaning over to give her his best 'jump-me-now' smile and Helen shook her head.
"One of these days Nikola, you're going to push me too far and then I'll shoot you a few too many times precisely where that innuendo is coming from," she warned, glaring at him before turning her attention back to the paper before her.
"And, if you're not careful, one of these days I might take away your guns."
"You like me too much to do that," she replied, narrowing her eyes at him.
Nikola just chuckled, smirking at her as his eyes told her she was wrong. He didn't like her. Not one little bit. He felt something else far stronger and he didn't need to say it for her to know.
Love, actually. I love you. Damn him and his unspoken conversations.
"What?" she asked, anger evaporating at the soft understanding she could see in his face.
"You know what," he chastised before leaning over to take a look at the stencils she'd cut. "Now, care to tell me what that is? I can see that one's a tree and that a candy cane but I really don't think you intended to make an ambiguous blob."
"It's a bauble," she replied tartly, straightening her back.
"Looks like an ambiguous blob to me."
"We have to decorate them Nikola," she said, shaking her head. "Now show me what you've come up with."
Proudly he pushed towards her three nearly indecipherable shapes. Helen stared at them for a few moments, tilting her head to get a better look but to no avail.
"Alright, I give up," she said. "What are they?"
"And you call me unimaginative," he scoffed. "That one is an angel."
"Really? It looks a little like a dancing bear."
"It does not!"
"Does too. And this one looks like an elephant."
"By no stretch of the imagination is that an elephant," Nikola complained. "It's a star, see?"
"Uhh..." Helen said, cocking her head. "Not really."
"Woman, you'll be the death of me," he said, sighing.
"Woman?"
"Sorry," he said, raising a hand in defeat. "Doctor."
"And to think I was just about to say that this last one is rather obvious and easily discernable," she muttered, pushing the cut outs back to him.
"Really?" he asked, perking up.
"Only an idiot wouldn't recognize that as a Tesla coil," she replied. "Though I will admit I only realised what it was after I remembered just how arrogant you are."
"What's wrong with it?" he objected and she sighed.
"These are cookies Nikola, not proclamations of your greatness."
"Everything is a proclamation of my greatness," he countered with a grin as she stood up, heading to the fridge.
In record time they had the dough rolled and cut, the cookies lined up neatly with Helen cutting a few rough extras after a bolt of inspiration. Before Nikola could see what she'd done, Helen shoved the tray into the oven, setting the timer with a grin on her face.
As they waited for the cookies to cook, Helen made more tea and, as per usual Nikola complained but his good natured teasing felt appropriate. For some reason, these past two weeks had shown her a side of Nikola she thought didn't exist. He flirted with her, he joked with her, he even went out of his way to spend time with her whenever she had a spare moment but not once had his hands begun to wander, not once had he offered to help her change, not once had he asked to warm her sheets despite the chill in the air. He was Nikola but without the flirting that helped her to distract herself from the fact that he was Nikola, the man she'd always felt a strong attachment to.
For all her complaints about his innuendo, she almost missed the ridiculous levels it normally reached. At least when he was openly trying to worm his way in between her legs she didn't have to see him as Nikola, then he was Tesla, menace to the Sanctuary network and right royal pain in her-
"Penny for your thoughts?" Nikola asked softly, smiling prettily at her.
"They aren't worth that much," she quipped, taking another sip of her tea.
"They are to me," he said quietly with a small smile.
"Well, you always were terrible with money," she joked in reply. Getting into a conversation about the way he made her insides flutter when he was sincere was most certainly a bad idea.
Nikola rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to say something only to be cut off by the shrill beep of the timer and Helen felt herself mightily pleased that their 10 minutes was up.
An hour later Helen was hurrying back the kitchen, having dealt with the one and only crisis of the day. The cookies had needed to cool and while Nikola had offered to help her track down a copy of 'whatever that blasted movie was called', thankfully she'd been pulled away just in time. Never before had she been thankful for a rampaging Steno but now, after Henry and Will both assured her that all was quiet and she could maybe take the rest of the day to herself, here she was, striding down the corridor in search of Nikola and the kitchen.
Rounding the corner, she was a little taken aback to hear not only 'Jingles Bells' pouring from the room but also to hear Nikola singing along happily.
By the time she reached the door his singing had quietened to a gentle hum but, as she'd expected, he was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as he worked. He'd clearly bathed, now dressed in another impeccable suit and his hair back to its normal colour.
"Stop snickering and come help me," he called, not looking up from the bench as he waved a few fingers, reducing the volume of the radio.
"How did you know it was me?" she asked, walking over to peer down at the mess he'd already managed to create.
"Your shoes aren't built for stealth," he replied, turning his head to peck her cheek before grinning at her. "But enough about your shoe fetish. You said we were to decorate these and, as I see it, you've been incredibly lax in the decorating department."
"Next time the Steno gets loose and begins to race around the place in search of Kate, I'll be sure to drag you along," she said, narrowing her eyes as she grabbed a few tubes of coloured goo he'd bought to ice the cookies. She had tried to make a case for homemade frosting but he'd stood firm, saying they'd cleaned enough for the day.
They worked quietly for a few minutes, chatting briefly about the Steno and he actually offered to take a look at the enclosure to see if he could set up something more effective than what they'd managed to rig up so far but then he fell unnaturally quiet, keeping his eyes glued to the partially iced cookies before him.
"Helen?" he asked eventually. "What's this?" She smirked at him, continuing with the star she'd been working on.
"What do you think it is?" she asked sedately and he scoffed.
"A very bad knockoff ," he replied, narrowing his eyes as he gingerly picked up the offending biscuit.
"It's as accurate as I could get with a cookie," she replied, turning to grin at him despite herself.
"Oh come on, even I could have done a better job!"
"What's wrong with it?" she asked, hands on hips and he rolled his eyes.
"Well there's no gap for one..." he said, shaking his head.
"Is that it?"
"It's also far too big."
"Oh Nikola," she replied demurely. "We both know size doesn't matter."
Nikola sighed, rolling his eyes as he sent her a condescending look but she just chuckled.
"You have to admit it's a fair approximation."
"I'll do no such thing," he cried, sounding outraged. Laughing, Helen reached over and plucked the cookie from his grasp, holding it up to his top lip and cocking her head.
"I'll admit it's a little on the large side," she said as he swatted her hands away. "But the likeness is definitely there."
With that she broke the moustache cookie in half, offering him one part as she popped the other into her mouth. Shooting her a dark look he took it, biting down gingerly.
"It's not half bad," he said, sounding vaguely surprised as he finished his piece. Smiling, Helen simply stuck her thumb into her mouth, sucking the last crumbs from the digit. She knew it was over the top but when she saw how his eyes widened at the action, she couldn't help but suck harder, hollowing her cheeks. The resulting twinkle in his eye made her blush and she ripped her thumb from her mouth, wiping it on her pants before turning back to the cookies, trying to figure out what exactly drove her to act like such a fool in front of Nikola.
Yawning, Helen stretched her shoulders, studying the computer screen before her but not making much headway. It wasn't particularly late but after a little Steno hide and seek, she was feeling rather tired, her feet aching as she slipped them from her shoes. She was seriously considering calling it a night when Nikola came strolling into her office, a tray of cookies in one hand and a cup of what truly appeared to be cocoa in the other.
"Ready?" he asked eagerly.
"For bed," she answered, shaking her head as he smirked.
"You were going to watch the movie with me," he reminded her, gesturing for her to follow him.
"I already told you, I don't own it."
"Liar," he accused, placing the tray on the nearest surface. "I already nabbed your copy from Tiny Tim."
"Nikola," she began with a sigh.
"Helen," he said mockingly. "It's one little movie, where's the harm in it? I swear if you fall asleep I won't even take off your shoes, let alone anything else."
"While your good intentions are a pleasant change, I'm still not watching it with you."
"If you insist," he said with a sigh, walking over and placing the hot chocolate on her desk. "I'll see you in the morning then."
With that he turned, grabbing the tray of badly decorated cookies and strolled to the door.
"Wait, Nikola, where are you going?" Helen called out, surprised he'd given in so easily.
"To watch the movie," he said with a shrug. "I'd rather you watched it with me but if you're tired, I won't bother you."
And, before she could say anything more, he was gone.
She tried to go to bed, she really did but as she sat at her desk, sipping cocoa and trying not to think about the fact that her favourite vampire was watching one of her favourite movies, her mind became far too keyed up for sleep.
She even headed towards her room, planning on a warm bath but then by the time she'd reached the bathroom she couldn't think about anything except the necklace Nikola had given her in the bathtub.
Sighing, she turned around, heading straight for the media room. In record time she found what she was looking for but she hovered nervously in the doorway for a moment, unsure of what she was doing exactly. She was tired, she did need rest and yet she was here.
"Hey," Nikola said, turning and smiling at her. He gestured to the space next to him before grabbing a cookie.
"I'd say come to the dark side but I'm sure you don't need cookies to do that," he quipped and she chuckled weakly, kicking off her shoes once more as she walked towards him, happily sinking down into the cushions and tucking her feet underneath herself.
"So far, I really don't get what you see in it," Nikola said, offering her a cookie as he turned his attention back to the screen. "Unless it's the nudity you're into."
Helen scoffed quietly, reaching out to slap his arm but keeping her eyes glued to the huge screen.
He fell silent after that, only speaking when he felt the need to criticise a character. Apparently he disliked men who were unable to keep their eyes on their wife. And trampy women in devil's horns.
Helen noticed that, as the movie progressed they drifted closer together but it wasn't until she awoke to gentle fingers running through her hair as she nuzzled into Nikola's thigh that she realised just how close they'd gotten.
"Don't worry," he said softly from above her. "I'll forgive you for the snoring."
Sitting up, Helen tried to glare him down but through her sleep muddled features she thought it lost much of its punch.
"If I offer to walk you to bed, will you try and shoot me?" he asked dubiously as the credits continued to role.
"Only if you walk me under any mistletoe," she answered sleepily as he pulled her upright.
"Only in your dreams," he murmured and she let out a soft chuckle before yawning.
"But this is not a dream," she argued. "So no mistletoe."
I know moustaches are particularly Christmas-y but this is my Tesla-stache recipe so, you know... Boo. Yah.