A/N: I wish I owned the characters, but I don't.
Flirting
"Nikki? Is something wrong?" asked Harry, looking at the other pathologist.
She gazed after the police officer thoughtfully, a frown on her face. "I don't know."
"What is it?"
She sighed. "It's stupid, just this… uneasy sort of feeling, you know?"
"Okay…"
"I don't like the way he flirts with me," she admitted.
"So tell him not to. Tell him you're not interested," suggested Harry, secretly relieved that she wasn't interested in the guy. He hadn't liked him either. He never did.
"It's more than that. I can't put my finger on it, somehow, but it's… creepy."
A thought occurred to him, and he said, a little anxiously, "you don't mind me flirting with you. Do you?"
Her frown softened into a smile, and she turned to him. "No, of course not. But that's different."
"Is it? Why? I've said far more outrageous things to you in the past than he said just now."
"Yes, but…" she waved a hand ineffectually, as if hoping it would help her explain what she meant. "It's not creepy when it's you. It feels… it's… it's nice."
"Nice."
"No, I don't mean it like that," she said, frustrated by his lack of comprehension. "I meant that it's… well, it feels…. safe, and… and warm, and comforting, and… and protective, somehow, like nothing can hurt me. It's like… I know if you're flirting with me, everything's alright between us, and if everything's alright between us, then nothing else can be wrong either – at least, not seriously wrong – so it's… it's nice, when it's you. Because it means that I'm okay. You're okay. We're okay," she rambled.
He nodded. "Nice."
"Harry, I didn't mean it as an insult," she pleaded. "It's a good thing. I don't… I don't feel threatened when you're flirting with me, I feel flattered, the centre of attention, and I like it. However outrageous the things you say are." She took a deep breath. "He made me feel… cheap, somehow. Like I want to scrub myself clean in the showers," she shuddered.
He arched an eyebrow at her. "Want company?"
She giggled suddenly, and went into his arms for a hug. "Don't tempt me," she teased.
He chuckled in response, breathing in the scent of her perfume as if it was her very essence. "Don't worry about him," he advised. "If he tries anything, Leo and I will go and beat the crap out of him for you, I promise. We'll even get rid of the evidence and do the PM and Leo can sign the death certificate. Okay?"
She nestled comfortably into his arms. "Okay."
"Now," he said suggestively, "about that shower…"
She laughed and swatted him on the arm. "Don't think I need it, now."
He deliberately raked his eyes up and down her body. "Shame."
Her reply was simply an eye-roll and a laugh.