A/N: This is (finally) what happened (or should have) between Cath and Nick during LLV. Mild spoilers for the ep, nothing serious. Smut and fun to follow! This is only one of several more chapters.
Chapter One
"Pack your undies, Nicky, we're gettin' out of this town!" Cath's voice came warm and excited through Nick's cell.
Nick grinned though she couldn't see it, and set down the stack of paperwork he was holding. It could wait. A weekend getaway with Catherine, even for a case, couldn't. "Tell me where and when. You know I'll be there."
"Out back, 30 minutes." She stifled a naughty giggle and hung up.
Exactly twenty-nine minutes and thirty seconds later Nick plopped the duffle bag full of the rumpled but clean clothes from the bottom of his locker in the back end before getting in the passenger's seat and giving Cath a nod.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Novak skulk across the parking lot, looking disappointed. His chest filled with a small bit of manly pride. Dawn was a few breathless hours from appearing. Still looking as radiant as ever, his boss turned up the radio and pulled onto open road. The sky was cobalt as they wordlessly left Las Vegas.
A day of endless blue sky, singing along to bad country music, and swapping dirty jokes was to follow.
That and, of course, solving a murder.
O O O
Fifteen hours later…"Well, that was fun," Nick said, closing his door and climbing in. The day had, in truth, been exhausting. Now they were headed for a cheap motel to crash before more of the same the next day.
Catherine didn't warrant the comment with an answer and instead pulled the SUV into gear and merged into the empty highway. Hopefully, he didn't notice as she fought to keep here eyes averted from the sweat that trickled down his neck to disappear past his collar. Where it was pooling, she didn't know, but the idea of following the salty path with her tongue sent haze behind her eyes. The desert's intense heat was not over, even now, at a little past nine at night. His spiced yet sweet scent filled the cab. It smelled the way she could only describe as masculine. It was pleasant, almost erotic in its muskiness.
The air conditioning made him shiver but it was with a different sensation that he squirmed. The tension was thick enough to rub butter on and eat with beans and damned if he didn't like it just a little.
Finally, the broken neon sign flashed erratically into view and Cath parked without incident. Willing her hands not to shake as Nick leaned over and grabbed the keys, she hurried around to the back and grabbed her bag without comment. Nick grabbed one that was suitably smaller and resisted making a crack. The last item was a paper bag full of envelopes and a digital camera.
"I think we've learned our lesson about leaving evidence in the car before, now haven't we," she teased. Nick grumbled and shoved the sack at her.
O O O
She slid into the dark and cold motel room with a sigh and flicked the light on by the bed as she dropped her bag containing the camera and field kit on one chair and her suitcase on the other. With eyes that threatened to droop, she looked around the room. It could definitely be described as…shabby. The curtains were nearly see-through, the carpet had what looked like burn marks on it, the comforter had more patches than fabric, and the linoleum in the bathroom was as yellow as the dead woman from the case had been. Ah, the luxuries the state's budget afforded. Smirking as she caught herself looking for a minibar, Catherine collapsed on the single queen-sized bed and kicked off her pumps.
O O O
One door down, Nick was going through similar rituals as he stared at his slightly distorted reflection in the smudged mirror and brushed his teeth. He tried not to think of Cath as he moved to the main room and unbuttoned his shirt. If only she hadn't touched his lower back with a light hand as she closed the back of the Tahoe before saying goodnight. It was that one gentle caress that forced him to close his eyes to force the heat away.
O O O
She stared up at the blank ceiling, sleepless in the semidarkness. Her body couldn't unwind. The rush of the case— no, she had to be honest with herself— it was Nick. Her Nicky. The spice of his aftershave clung to her from spending hours together in the car. After so long being so close and not allowed to touch, she had given in right before leaving him for the night. It had seemed innocent but to her he felt like fire. Her lips quirked up in a smile recalling the stiffening of his spine at the brush of her fingers.
So you feel it too, eh Nick?
Her cheeks felt suddenly flushed, her heart fluttered a little as she imagined sliding cool fingers beneath the shirt, to trace the bare skin above his waistband. He would moan a little and throw his head back as she drew little circles on his back. More warmth flared up in her abdomen, shooting south as she almost heard him whimper her name.
On their own, her fingers slid beneath her own waistband and she wormed out of her slacks to make access easier. The Nicky in her imagination was taking off his shirt as she kissed his muscled neck and pressed herself against him. His erection throbbed through the denim and her hips bucked up, pressing against it, making the bed squeak as her hand became a blur. Breathing loud and rapidly, Catherine rubbed her other hand under her shirt, across her taut stomach and over her breasts, wishing it was Nick, pretending it was. Her fantasy continued and she closed her eyes tight as she imagined kissing the hollow behind his ear, where a razor couldn't quite tame the stubble. Aggressively, she would grab him by his belt and pull as her lips grazed his sinuous neck. It was almost possible to imagine his weight on top of her, panting. "Nick!" she gasped noisily as an orgasm rolled pleasantly through her. It was releasing but she still felt wound up, somehow. Oh well, she could sleep now. Without bothering to move her pants from where she had kicked them, she wriggled out of her shirt and pulled the strange-smelling blanket to her chin.
O O O
Damn the paper thin walls. Two people in the room next door were getting laid. Loudly. The bed shrieked and groaned, but not loudly enough to drown out the woman. Then he realized it was not two people, but one. It was hard to tell from which side the sounds were coming from. Then he recognized the voice. Cath? She moaned again and the bed squeaked rhythmically. She said something indiscernible but he would know that lilt anywhere. It was her, though her voice had a musical quality in her obviously aroused state that he had never heard before. Something in him wanted to keep hearing it for a long, long time. The bed's knocking against the wall got faster and faster, until he wondered if it would make the wall crack when it suddenly fell silent as she crooned in release. That word he did catch. His name.
He shot suddenly fully awake. There was a slight twitching in his boxers. "Easy Cowboy," He told himself. "So she gets off to you, it doesn't mean a thing." His growing erection wasn't listening. "Look Man, you'll go get off to her in the shower and go to sleep. No harm, no foul, no sexual harassment or bad breakup to make work awkward." Her breaths were still audible in the other room. The bed squeaked as she turned over. Or something. If the rocking and groaning started up again, he'd go crazy.
Instead, the only sound was her restless tossing and turning as she failed to drift into unconsciousness. He got up and kicked off his boxers before getting in the shower to beat his fantasies into submission.
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