I just realized it's three more weeks until a new episode... Which I have mixed feelings about, because the semester ends around that time and I am absolutely dreading finals. So, I'm in this weird limbo of excitement/dread about it. Sigh. On the bright side, I don't think I've ever been this prolific in writing.

Anyway, here's a little companion fic to 'Dresser Reflections,' based on some requests from those reviews! This fits alongside it, but for anyone just stumbling upon this, there isn't much required knowledge of my previous story to understand this one (if that makes sense... Sorry, it's been a long day...).

(Disclaimer: I don't own anything! If I did, these stupid periods of no-new-episodes would not exist...)

Enjoy!

"Nicholas Miller!"

Her words echoed across the house, a foreboding implication of what was waiting for him on the other side of the bedroom door. Nick cringed on the couch, the all-too-familiar thought of 'what did I do this time?' popping into his head. He felt worse this time, as he honestly had no clue what he had done. Truth be told, there were many things that he could have done wrong, but he had been proud to report that he had remembered all of the things that week that good boyfriends remembered.

"Nick! Seriously!" There was some rustling from the other side, and Nick gauged that by putting on headphones, he could play the "I didn't hear you" card until he could come up with a good excuse for whatever he had done. He adjusted his earbuds a little more, although he wasn't actually listening to anything.

It wasn't like living in this new house with Jess the past month had been difficult – in fact, it beat the loft by a long shot. He looked forward to coming home at night, and not only because that meant sleep. He even liked getting up in the mornings – just because he wanted to see her off to work. She had a brightness about her that made the change in living there so much easier. However, there were a few bad habits he had apparently picked up in his adult lifetime, and Jess wasn't going to let them all slide.

His shoes, for example, were a source of stubbed toes and curse words that he'd never heard from an otherwise perky Jessica Day.

In his old room, leaving his shoes wherever they fell was not an issue. But with Jess, late night trips to the bathroom always ended in disaster when she inevitably tripped over one on her way there.

So, Rule #1: Shoes go by the door or in the closet. Check.

There was more commotion from the direction of their room, but Nick ignored it. Maybe she'd forgotten what she was mad about anyway...

Jess wasn't totally innocent, either – she had done her fair share of things that bothered him. He had been prepared for the whole "taking over the bathroom" thing, because he'd already shared a bathroom with her, but it seemed like she had held back for the sake of Schmidt and Winston.

He never knew that someone who wore so little make-up could acquire so much of it. It was practically everywhere – behind the sink, in every drawer, the medicine cabinet, and, much to his dismay, still enough to fit in a make-up bag on the counter. Sticks and bottles and tubes and stuff that wasn't meant to be there. Better yet, it was stuff that was never meant to go on someone's face.

Above all, though, he had to admit the weirdest thing were the tampons just casually lying around. Like they weren't the creepiest part of the mysteries of being a girl – something made to do nothing more than… What they were made for. He cringed.

It wouldn't be bad if they weren't everywhere. Every make-up bag. Every suitcase. Every purse. He half expected to find them wedged in the couch one day, just because they were like spare change in colorful wrappers to women.

Jess had caught him picking one up once, the very edge of the wrapper wedged between his thumb and index finger, trying to move it back to it's box in the cabinet.

She'd laughed, her totally innocent but oh-so attractive laugh, and told him that he didn't need to touch it like that because it hadn't been used and was still in its wrapper. He'd ignored that, and she'd chased him around the house with it for fifteen minutes, before finally opening it and launching it straight at him.

He may or may not have screamed like a teenage girl when it landed spot-on in his lap.

"NICK!"

He sighed, his mind put back on track. Joking aside, he had remembered a lot more this week than he usually did. It couldn't be the towel thing. Could it?

He went over a mental checklist in his head of the way he had been taught to wash towels (because, well, he'd recently discovered that towels must be washed regularly), and clearly remembered each step - soap, load, machine on Cottons, dry until all the lint was off, and fold. Hell, he'd even emptied the lint trap.

Maybe it was the folding?

Rule #2: Towels must be folded properly. Check.

Just one month ago, the art of towel folding had been a lost cause to him. Jess had casually ignored his "slung over the closet" method during their pre-house days… but she prided herself in her towel folding abilities, and felt this new step in their relationship left him in desperate need of a tutorial.

While Jess had sworn she had been terrible at her summer job in high school in the bed and bath section of a mall department store, she had picked up some useful skills. Like towel folding. And, not to mention, picking out the best sheets.

It had been hard to pick up at first, as he had to fold the edge over only partially before taking the new ends and halving that, but Jess promised he was a natural… and his towels had never been so… fluffy? It was like living in a freaking hotel. Even if the only real difference was how they looked on a shelf, Nick thought that the folding made all the difference.

Which still didn't explain why Jess was calling his name.

As if on cue, the door swung open and Nick lifted his eyes to meet those of his girlfriend.

"Oh," she said, eyeing his headphones as he took them off, her tone oddly soft, "can you come in here for a second?"

"Sure," he replied. The change in her voice was striking, and it worried Nick. Whereas Caroline had always been a passive-aggressive type, never explicitly stating what was wrong, Jess had never been one to hold anything back. It was one of the many reasons why he knew that she was the girl he needed in his life.

He followed her into the bedroom, looking for any sign of what this all was about. Aside from one of his shirts lying on the bed, nothing seemed too out of place. Even the manuscript for his book, another cause for stubbed toes and paper cuts, was sitting on the bedside table.

"Three questions," Jess said, taking a seat on the bed.

He arched an eyebrow. He knew better than to argue, so instead, he wordlessly sat down next to her.

"First," she held up her index finger, "Can you go through your drawer and pick out shirts you won't wear? I think you have too many sleeping shirts. If they don't fit into your drawer, there's no way you can wear them all."

He groaned. Could this be over a shirt? "So you want me to get rid of shirts because I can't seem to fit them into a drawer?"

"No," she answered. "But I think it's silly that you don't even sleep in them half the time. Not that I mind that, but really, you've got a lot of shirts."

Despite the circumstances, she was trying not to smile at the implications.

Nick held back laughter. "With that logic, then you should get rid of a lot of your – "

That earned him a swat on the arm.

"So is this whole thing over leaving a shirt on the bed?" He asked. Jess's expression changed to where it was almost unreadable. She chewed her lip like she was confused, but lines on her forehead suggested that she was still angry at something.

"Yes and no," she answered. Nick waited. "I mean, there were actually like three more on the floor, and that was only question one."

"Okay…" He continued. "What's next?"

"Question two," she took a deep breath, and then looked him straight in the eye. "Where is this going, Nick?"

She motioned between the two of them.

The honest curiosity of her words nearly took the wind right out of him. It was reminiscent of that disastrous first date, and all of the second-guessing that accompanied it. Where was this going? Was it too much for Jess? He knew the adjustment would take awhile, but was she thinking about giving up now?

His heart felt like it was in his throat, while his mind was racing for an answer.

Where was this going?

"Jess, we just moved in together," he began carefully, almost pleading, "and nobody said it would be easy. But we've got to keep trying. I'm sorry that I'm not the easiest person to live with – "

"Nick."

" – and I know that we both have things we need to fix – "

"Nick!"

He closed his mouth, Jess taking his hand.

"I'm not mad about that. Not anymore," her voice was hopeful. "I know that we make each other so mad sometimes…"

He smiled. She squeezed his hand.

"But," she leaned in, letting his arms snake around her waist, "you drive me crazy in the best way possible, Miller. That's love, isn't it?"

"I'd like to think so," he let out a breath, the woosh of air that he'd been holding in finally free. Jess closed her eyes and Nick pulled the pair to their feet.

"And I'm sorry for being difficult with you recently. It's just… I let a lot slide when I lived with Spencer, you know? And I thought for so long that being okay with all of his weird habits would make him want to stay with me. But in the end, I was just there to hold a place. I didn't want that to happen to us."

Nick just looked at her, speechless by this truth. Jess had never talked about her time with Spencer, even this long into their relationship. She typically wasn't one to dwell on it. It was like him and Caroline, what's past is past.

"Jess…" he said quietly, cupping her cheek with his palm. "I don't know what I could say that would make you feel better. Things haven't been the same since you came into my life, and I'm trying. You're not a placeholder to me."

"I know," she replied, her voice cracking.

His pulse quickened. He had a good way to prove it to her. It was really now or never.

"Did you and Spencer ever talk about getting married?"

Jess's eyes shot up at him. There. He'd said it. The M word.

"Well," she lowered her gaze. "I asked. He always avoided the question. Gave me some 'eventual common-law' garbage."

"And us?" He prodded. "Did you just assume that's how we'd end up?"

Jess pulled him close. "Maybe… I mean, moving in together is close enough for a lot of people…"

Nick released her from his grip, just for the time being. He had other ideas.

She scowled at him, but he held up a finger. Just wait for a second.

He walked over to the dresser, pulled open his drawer, and found the corner where that little black box…

Wasn't there.

His stomach fell.

He pushed a few shirts aside, trying not to let Jess know about the frenzy his mind had just been sent into. It was here this morning! Did I put it in the laundry?

It was really just his luck to lose something like that.

"Nick," Jess touched his shoulder. "I've still got one more question."

He wanted to pretend he hadn't heard her, wanted to press some kind of pause button to stop right where they were and pick up only when he had the one thing that could convince her that she was not temporary. But she was there, with her hand on his shoulder, probably hurt from his sudden departure. And he was shuffling through his dresser like a panic-stricken teenager trying to get out of a really awkward situation.

To avoid hurting her more, Nick turned around and leaned against the drawer. His mind was still reeling at the horrors of what could have happened to it.

"What is it, Jess?"

She walked to the bed, moving his shirt aside and turning around.

"Can I ask you what this is?"

A familiar little box rested in her hands, and for the second time that day, Nick let out a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding in. She handed it to him, almost like it was made of glass.

Despite himself, he smirked. "I thought you weren't going to look in my drawer."

"I was going to be nice," she scowled, "and put away this shirt, when I decided that your drawer needed some serious rearranging. So when you didn't answer me, I took matters into my own hands."

"And," Nick began, running his thumb along the outer fabric of the box, "you just happened to find this in your mission?"

"I didn't look inside," Jess answered honestly. "But your aunt showed me something in a box very similar last time we were in Chicago. She was insistent that I comment on every one she showed me. I happened to really like this one."

Nick raised an eyebrow. That explained his crazy aunt's letter that came with the ring. Jess had picked it out without ever knowing what she was looking at.

"Then do I need to even bother explaining what's inside?"

Jess laughed, the kind of laugh he'd fallen in love with, and Nick felt his legs turn to jelly. This was it.

"Only if you really want to make this… official. What do you say?" She replied, grinning. There was no way she had just asked him to make it official!

"Is that a proposal?" He prodded.

"Is that a yes?"

"Jessica!"

"Nicholas! Do I need to get on a knee - "

She was halfway through bending down, when Nick pulled her elbow – so much like he had done that very first time – and kissed her with all he knew how.

She responded instantly, her lips soft on his, her hands around his neck, in his hair, pulling in ever closer. There was something that wasn't there before – the kind of vulnerability that they had both kept locked away, afraid that if this fell through, things could get so incredibly twisted.

He loosened his grip on her back, the box still gripped tightly in his hand. She pulled away, her hands coming to rest on his chest.

Nick looked down, taking her left hand and pinching open the lid to the box. She left her hand floating between them, fingers fanned out, as he pulled out the delicate band.

They stood in the center of their bedroom, amazed, as he slid the ring onto her ring finger. The stones glittered in place, so much like what Jess did to a room the second she walked into it. She stared at her hand, and Nick could tell she was holding back the kind of excitement that only Jess could have.

"You're fighting it," Nick said, lifting up her chin with his finger.

That was all the permission she needed.

She threw her arms around his neck, squeezing him until he couldn't breathe. There may have been some attempts at jumping up and down in there, too.

"You have no idea…" She let out a breath, resting her chin on his shoulder.

He let his arms relax at her waist. "Just so you know, it's a family ring, and my aunt let you choose this without telling me. I had no clue until I got this and the letter a few weeks ago." He laughed. "But I still had this whole romantic thing planned, you know. The perfect proposal. I was going to run it by Schmidt later this week."

She smirked, picking her head up to look him in the eyes. "I'm known for throwing kinks into plans. But if you feel it necessary, sweep me off my feet! I'll even act surprised!"

For emphasis, she threw her hands up.

"It's whatever you want," He replied, his eyes serious. "I wanted to do that for you. Because you deserve – "

She cut him off.

"If you say 'so much more,' I will not be happy with you."

"Jess," he blinked, "you basically just proposed to me. Girls usually don't dream of that kind of stuff."

She rolled her eyes. "We also dream of being things like Rapunzel, which would've required me locked up for eighteen years of my life. No, thank you."

"I'm serious!"

"Nick," she scowled at him. "Don't ruin my mood. The second you decided to get up and take it out of the drawer, you made your intentions clear, and that's all I need. You decided to do this," she smiled, "I just had a little fun along the way."

His expression softened.

"I'm okay with that."

"You better be," she laughed, her face inching towards his, "because I happen to be free until morning, and no plans on saying a word to anyone else tonight."

With that, Jess kissed him and replaced all trace of doubt in Nick with the knowledge that she did, in fact, get a proposal that was perfect for them. And until morning came, they could spend that time immersed in their own little secret.

So, this was fun. I toyed with the idea of some huge gesture, but I just think this would be so them, you know? They're not the mushy type, from what I've seen. Then again, I'm not a terribly mushy writer either. Maybe that's why I like these two so much...

Anyway, constructive critique is welcomed and, as always, thanks for reading!