Author's Note: I'm excited to share my first New Girl fic! It's Nick/Jess, of course. Their chemistry is undeniable. I'm not sure if they're ever going to get back together (maybe in the series finale), but it's clear they still have feelings for each other. Enjoy! :)
Disclaimer: New Girl © Elizabeth Meriwether
Nick got the first impression he was screwed a day after Schmidt and Cece got engaged, in which Schmidt, in front of the entire loft, got down on one knee a second time. Only this time, it was in front of Nick himself, and all he could do was stand there and gawk in a mixture of fear and confusion as his best friend took him by the hand and asked him a question, even more eloquently than he had done with Cece—which was all the more unsettling.
"Nicholas Miller, would you do me the honor of being my best man?"
There was a big pause as everyone collectively held their breath, awaiting Nick's response, and finally he shrugged and said, "Yeah, sure, man, but did you really have to get down on one knee to—"
"He said yes!" Schmidt said, leaping up and planting a hearty kiss on Nick that landed half on his jaw, half on his neck. He grimaced and furiously wiped off the Schmidt saliva, grateful it hadn't been on the mouth, for once.
Now, while Nick truly was happy for his best friend for landing the woman of his dreams, his bad feeling only grew worse when Cece awarded Jess the title of maid of honor, as it forced him to realize two things:
One, Jess was going to rope him into doing as much wedding planning stuff as she possibly could, despite the fact that, arguably, the best man's only job was to make sure the groom showed up to the wedding unharmed and relatively sober.
And, two, given the circumstances, with the impending talks of love and wedded bliss, whether he was ready to or not, Nick knew he was going to have to come to terms with his bottled-up feelings for his vibrant, doe-eyed beauty of an ex-girlfriend.
"…and I was thinking we could have an ice sculpture of you and me at the center of the reception," Schmidt said, sitting at the dining table with his bride-to-be, who sipped her morning coffee, listening intently. "You, a flawless goddess sitting atop a glorious white stallion. Or, you know, a brown stallion. Or is that more racist?"
Cece rolled her eyes, smiling behind the rim of her coffee mug, which she lowered from her lips to cradle in both hands.
"And where are you in this magnificent ice sculpture?" she asked.
"I'd be standing next to you, holding up a sword like a mighty warrior as I declare my love for you, my perfect Cecelia, for all the world to hear," Schmidt said. "Shirtless. Obviously. Me, that is, not you. Although, if you're open to having a shirtless replica of you in ice form, I'd say go for it. Gender equality and all. Plus, it is your day."
"Our day," Cece said, and the couple shared a grin. "We'll put a pin in that idea."
Schmidt pumped his fist, only for the look on his face to turn serious as he asked, "Sex break?"
"Sex break," Cece said.
The two of them sprang from their seats so quickly they nearly knocked the chairs over altogether. They rushed into Schmidt's bedroom and shut the door, leaving behind Nick, Jess and a grossed out Winston, all three of whom had been sitting in the kitchen the entire time. Winston took a glance at his watch.
"It's literally been two minutes," he said, only to backtrack. "Well, one minute and fifty-nine seconds, but I don't play like that. Round it on up."
"I think it's sweet," Jess said. "They're more in love than ever."
"Girl, don't even get me started. Too late, you got me started," Winston said, and he leaned in closer to them. "Ever since those two got engaged, I've been overhearing way too many sexcapades through these disturbingly thin walls. And the creepiest thing about it is that Schmidt's been shouting a lot of wedding-related jargon lately. Just the other night, I was making a midnight snack for me and Furguson…"
Winston had a plate of crackers on the counter and was adding pieces of cheddar cheese, only to stop when he heard the increasingly loud sounds of panting and moaning coming from Schmidt's bedroom. He turned to the closed door, unwillingly listening as the noises grew louder and louder by the second, until Schmidt cried out:
"BY THE POWER VESTED IN ME!"
He wrinkled his brow.
Winston looked between Nick and Jess. They both stared at him incredulously.
"What?" he asked.
"Why were you making a plate of cheese and crackers to share with your cat?" Nick asked.
"Furguson prefers savory treats over sweet!" Winston said, practically bursting with defensiveness. He took a deep breath to collect himself. "Look, I'm not going to sit here and defend my completely platonic relationship with my cat, okay? Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go give Furguson a back rub."
He shuffled out of the room, and as soon as he was gone, Nick automatically looked at Jess, who flashed him an overly happy grin. Right then and there, he knew he was in trouble.
"So," she said, drumming her fingertips against the counter. She nodded towards Schmidt's door. "How do you like them apples, huh? Our two best friends, getting married. Pretty darn amazing, am I right?"
"Yeah, it's great," Nick said, though beneath the surface of his casual agreement was a thickening layer of apprehension. Where was she going with this?
"Cece and Schmidt, getting hitched," Jess said. "Tying the knot." She paused, humming softly. "You know, I've never been particularly fond of that expression. 'Tying the knot.' How are knots even remotely romantic? It should be something cuter, like tie the bow. Or the shoelace." She paused again, as though contemplating that very idea, only to slap the counter. "Well," she said, lifting a hand and pointing back and forth between the two of them, "it's you and me, Mr. Best Man. I hope you're ready."
Nope.
"Yup," Nick said. "Totally."
"You and me," she repeated. There was a bit more weight to it this time.
Silence filled the room as they held eye contact, at which point Nick suddenly felt weird things happening in his stomach, and he knew it wasn't indigestion. Quite the opposite, in fact. His stomach twisted in knots—or, whatever, bows, since apparently Jess didn't like knots—and he wondered if it was even normal for a grown man to still get butterflies, from his ex-girlfriend slash friend slash roommate, no less.
Jess' face softened as she dropped her gaze and timidly pushed up her glasses with her index finger, leading to an onslaught of questions to swirl through Nick's mind: What is happening? Are we having a moment? Should I say something to her? I should say something to her. That's how conversations work.
"So…"
Jess glanced back up at him, but unfortunately for Nick, his mind went blank. He fished around for something to say, but he couldn't hook anything. As the silence between them lengthened, the idea of spontaneously panic-moonwalking out of the room grew increasingly appealing to him.
That is, until Schmidt screamed from behind his bedroom door:
"'TIL DEATH DO US PART!"
"Okay," Jess said, getting up and making a beeline for her room. "I need to get dressed."
"Yeah, and I need to shower at some point," Nick said, holding up a hand. "See ya!"
"Wouldn't wanna be ya!" Jess called out.
After her door shut, Nick dropped his hand with a heavy sigh. He was in for a rough ride, indeed.
"Ooh, a waffle maker, how sweet of you, madam," Jess said in some unidentifiable foreign accent, picking up the box to examine its contents.
Nick had his hands stuffed in his pockets as he trailed behind Jess, the fluorescent lights annoying him and the cooking appliances making him hungry.
"This is literally the worst thing ever, Jess," he said. "And that's including death. And square dancing."
He was admittedly crankier than usual, as he'd been having a perfectly lovely mid-Saturday morning nap when Jess had dragged him out of bed and made him get into her car with her, all the while being suspiciously coy about where she'd be taking them. He'd pointed out that this was blatant kidnapping, yet she was anything but apologetic. She maintained her silence and avoided his questions by blasting pop music the entire way there, until she pulled into a parking lot and he was able to see for himself that she was taking him to go shopping for kitchenware.
Presently, Jess set the box down and darted up to a display of steak knives. "Aw, come on, Miller, why don't you give that grumpy default setting of yours a break for once? You're my personal shopping sidekick!"
"That's not a thing," Nick said.
"I need to get Schmidt and Cece the perfect engagement present," Jess said, running her fingers over the handles of the steak knives. He was pretty sure she wasn't allowed to be touching the merchandise like that, but then, who was he to stop her?
"Why can't you just give them money like a normal person?" Nick asked. "Stick some cash in a fancy card, draw a smiley face on the envelope, and you're good to go. They'll love it, trust me."
"I can't do that," Jess said, sounding genuinely appalled. "Two of my favorite people in the whole wide world are getting married. How impersonal would it be if I gave them a check for $253—"
"That's a weirdly specific amount."
"—and wrote an unsentimental message like, 'Congrats, you two crazy lovebirds! Can't wait for the big day! Hooray, commitment!' Where's the fun in that?"
Nick sighed, dropping his head and shaking it. When he snapped back up, he made a decision. If it was important to her, it was important to him.
"You're right," he said. "I'll help you pick out the perfect gift."
Jess smiled, a soft, sincere grin, and the corner of Nick's mouth involuntarily turned up in a half-smirk. Out of nowhere, she picked up a spatula and threw a voice for it in a British accent, "Why, thank you ever so much, Nicholas Miller. Fancy a crumpet?" She suddenly stopped, a forlorn look forming on her face as she glanced down at the spatula and said wistfully, "Ryan."
Nick's heart clenched at the sound of her ex-boyfriend's name, a pang of sympathy. He watched Jess, noting the sad look in her eyes, and before he could stop to think about what he was doing, he found himself asking, "Hey, do you think, if Ryan hadn't moved back to England, you two would still be together?"
Jess' baby blues flashed up to him, big and serious. After a moment, she shrugged, and returned the spatula to where she found it. "I don't know," she said. "I've never really thought about it. Honestly, I don't think it even matters, since I doubt he was 'the one,' anyway. I mean, he was an amazing guy and all, but he wasn't…"
She trailed off, staring at him with a new, profound intensity, as if her eyes were saying what she didn't dare say aloud. Nick cleared his throat and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.
"Yeah," he said, dropping his hand. "I hear ya. I'm sorry." As to what he was apologizing for, exactly, he wasn't entirely sure. All he knew was that Jess was frowning now, and he needed to break the weird tension between them, so he picked up a whisk and did his best Australian accent as he said, "G'day, Jessica. Let's whip up some eggs, mate!"
Jess blinked, then cracked a large, beautiful smile at him, and Nick's heart swelled with relief, even as she said, "That's a terrible Australian accent."
"It is spot on," he said with absolute confidence. He raised the whisk once more. "Crikey!"
Jess broke out into a chuckle, and Nick couldn't help but join her. Things were back to normal again.
"Whoo, post-engagement party shots!" Cece said, drunk and giddy.
The five of them, all dressed in their formal party attire, raised their glasses and clinked them together. They downed their drinks, each one pulling a face as the liquor burned down their throats. Cece threw a slender arm around Jess and pressed their faces together.
"I love my best friend," she said. "And I especially love the gift you bought us. Schmidt and I are going to make tons of bread with it."
"Seriously," Schmidt said. "I plan on going all out with that baby. I'm talking all kinds of bread. Whole wheat. Banana nut. Sourdough. And, of course, the most erotic of all the breads. Pumpernickel."
Cece giggled, releasing Jess and slipping into his arms. "You're so sexy when you talk about bread," she said against his lips.
They were making out a second later, limbs tangling in a passionate embrace as they staggered off into Schmidt's bedroom. They were gone for the night.
"All this talk about bread is making me hungry," Winston said. "Time to whip up a quick post-party sandwich. Meat and cheese and light mayo, now that's what I'm talking about!"
As Winston headed for the fridge and pulled open the door, Nick and Jess glanced at each other, both a little tipsy themselves. Jess stood there, a bit unsteadily, hands on her hips, looking gorgeous as ever in a form-fitting pink dress. As to what shade of pink it was exactly, Nick had no clue. Magenta? Fuchsia? Tickle me pink? No, wait. That last one was a crayon.
"Well," Jess said, pulling him from his color speculations, "this little lady's going to call it a night. 'Til tomorrow, gentlemen."
She tipped an invisible hat and turned, stumbling once as she walked off to her room in her black high heels. Nick watched her retreating form, somehow entranced, only for the sound of Winston's voice to permanently break his daze.
"Dangerous territory," Winston said.
"S'cuse me?" Nick asked.
Winston's head popped from the fridge. "You really think I didn't see the two of you making googly eyes at each other just now? Gotta say, I'm disappointed in you, man. You ought to know by now that your pal Winnie the Bish has got eyes in the back of his head."
"What are you talking about?" Nick asked. "Googly eyes? That's ridiculous. I wasn't—we weren't—"
He struggled for words, mostly because he wasn't even sure what he was actually trying to say. Winston simply raised an eyebrow at him, clearly amused by how painfully flustered he was becoming.
Finally, Nick pulled himself together and said, "No. You're wrong. Jess and I came to an agreement and we're sticking to it. Clean break. That's that."
"If you say so," Winston said, returning to the fridge.
Nick scrunched up his face in a look of utter annoyance.
"I saw that," Winston said.
This time, Nick ignored him and simply walked away. As he strolled into his bedroom, he loosened the tie from his neck. He could hear the sound of clicking footsteps approaching, and he jumped when he felt someone at his side, none other than Jess.
"Geez, what the hell!" Nick said. "What did we say about knocking?"
"I know, I'm sorry, I just—" Her face pinched in distress as she pulled at the back of her dress. "I've got a zipper situation going on back here, and Cece's currently preoccupied, so…" She turned around. "Would you mind helping a girl out?"
"Yeah, sure," Nick said.
He let go of his tie and pulled back her mass of dark hair like a curtain. The gold zipper on her dress dangled enticingly as he grabbed it and unzipped it for her, exposing more of her smooth, milky white skin, as well as the back of a lacy blue bra he instantly recognized. When he let go, Jess turned around to face him again, her face dangerously close to his.
"Thank you," she said.
He involuntarily swallowed, feeling really warm all of a sudden, and he knew for a fact the flash of body heat had absolutely nothing to do with the alcohol swimming through his bloodstream.
"I've been meaning to tell you," Jess said, voice low and husky, "you looked really handsome tonight. I like you in a suit." She gently grasped his tie, gliding her hand down the length of the fabric, and his breath hitched. What was happening?
"You're standing really close to me, Jess," he said breathlessly.
"Ooh, guilty as charged," she said in a sultry tone, mimicking a call girl.
Her free hand came up to grasp his shoulder. She exhaled seductively, her breath grazing his lips. Right at that moment, Nick realized Winston was right. This was some severely dangerous territory.
The next thing he knew, she tugged him forward and planted her lips against his own. Alarm bells immediately went off in his head, urging him to pull away from her, but his body had a mind of its own. He reacted on impulse and swept the palm of his hand over her cheek, cradling her jaw. She sucked in a breath and raked her fingers through his hair.
Surprisingly enough, it wasn't a drunken, messy kiss, but rather a slow, intimate one. He'd forgotten how unbelievably good this felt, the blinding exhilaration that only came from kissing her, and he hadn't realized until that very moment just how much he'd desperately missed it.
Her hands were all over him now, roaming his chest, yanking off his tie. It wasn't until she'd shrugged him out of his suit jacket that panic struck him at last, and he broke away.
"Jess," he said, much more breathlessly. "What are we doing? Is this really what you want? What happened to our clean break?"
She looked mildly agitated for a moment as she frowned at him with her pink lips. She swayed slightly, struggling to stand upright, until she found her balance by winding her arms around the back of his neck.
"We both know which of us took the sex mug out of the trash," she said, and with that, she kissed him again, deeper this time, her tongue probing his mouth without any warning.
He groaned, his desire flaring, unable to resist her a second longer. His body took over once and for all as he grabbed her by the waist. She responded by wrapping a leg around his waist and tightening her hold on him. He brought a hand to her back, immediately finding the clasp of her bra, and he was about to undo it, when a shattering CRASH jolted them apart.
"Aw, man, not the good pickles!" Winston said.
Nick and Jess panted, the spark from their passionate moment quickly fizzling out. They looked at one another, disheveled, but still fully clothed. Nick ran a hand through his hair, having literally no clue what to do or say at that point.
"I'm so sorry," Jess blurted out, and she made a break for the door.
"Jess, wait—"
She'd fled his room without turning back. Nick let out a heavy sigh and sank to his bed, dragging a hand down his face. Things were officially screwed up again.
They managed to skillfully avoid each other the next day, which, as it turned out, wasn't as difficult a task as one would assume, given the fact they were roommates and all. In fact, Nick and Jess had already perfected the art of avoidance last year, when the emotional wounds from their breakup were still fresh. It was almost like second nature to them now. That said, Nick knew it wouldn't last much longer. There was going to be an inevitable confrontation in which they'd delicately skirt around the issue, pretend like nothing happened and ultimately repress their feelings. He was more than ready to get it over with.
At least, he thought he was.
What he hadn't anticipated was to find himself stopping in the middle of his tracks on his way out the door late in the day, when he heard pounding music coming from Jess' room. He stood there, listening for a few seconds, before it clicked in his head that she was listening to a song by Britney Spears, and he hated himself more than usual for how quickly he was able to figure that out.
There was some hesitation then, his mind darting back and forth like a ping pong ball, debating what he should do, until he finally made his choice and headed for Jess' room.
This is stupid, this is stupid, you're an idiot, this is stupid, his mind chanted, but he ignored it as he knocked on her door.
"Jess, we need to talk," he said, loudly, in an attempt to speak over the music. No answer. "Jess?"
He opened the door, only to stop when he saw Jess, dancing around enthusiastically, a mess of hair flinging and hip twisting. She held a bottle of silver glitter in one hand and a spool of white ribbon in the other. When her eyes locked on Nick, she stumbled to a halt.
"Nick," she said. She scurried over to her speakers and killed the song, thank god. "I thought you had work."
"I was just heading out now," he said, and then, because he just had to ask, "What the hell are you doing?"
"Oh, you know. Just some extreme crafting," Jess said. "I'm going to surprise Cece with her very own bridal-edition ribbon hat. I figured now would be the perfect time to get started on it, since Schmidt and Cece won't be home for a while. They've got their first dance lesson with a professional choreographer. He's going to work with them to create a routine for their first dance as husband and wife. Cece won't give me any deets, but, knowing Schmidt, I bet there's going to be some hardcore ballet up in there. I don't know about you, but I can't wait to be dazzled by their majestic dance moves. Anyway, enough chit-chat. You don't want to be late for work. The bar's not going to tend itself!"
"I'm not leaving until we talk about last night," Nick said.
A weighty silence immediately dropped between them. Jess' face fell, and he knew she knew he wasn't messing around.
"Okay," she said. "Fair enough. Let's talk this baby out. Get it all out there. I'll go grab my feeling stick."
"No, I honestly hate that thing," Nick said. "Let's just talk like the adults I suck at pretending to be. You go first."
"Fine," Jess said, sighing hard. She took a moment, before she calmly said, "As far as last night was concerned, it was nothing but a one-time, accidental slip-up. My tongue accidentally slipped into your mouth, and—"
"Wow, okay, that's—unnecessarily vivid. I mean, I was there, I remember your—tongue," Nick said, feeling like he'd been punched in the gut. A slip-up. Of course. He should've known. It was a mistake. That's all it was. A drunken mistake. He didn't need to hear anything else. All he needed was to get out of there. "You know what, I change my mind. This was a bad idea. Just like last night. So, we're agreed then, it was nothing but a slip-up. Yeah. I think that's good. That makes sense. Okay. Good discussion. Really enjoyed it. I need to go to work now. The bar's not going to tend itself. Wow, I just blatantly stole your joke, I'm sorry."
"Nick, wait," Jess said, but this time, he was the one out the door without turning back.
Nick's body ached with exhaustion when he returned home from work in the wee hours of the night. He was ready to go straight to bed, but he stopped when he caught sight of Jess, sprawled out on the couch.
"Jess?" He walked up to her and gently nudged her shoulder. "Hey, Jess, wake up."
She leisurely drew in a breath, her eyes fluttering open to stare up at him. She blinked a few times, looking dazed as she brought up a hand and rubbed one of her eyes with her knuckles.
"Nick. Hey," she said in a groggy voice. "You're home. I must've dozed off. What time is it?"
"It's late," he said. "You should go to bed."
He tugged at her hand to help her get up, but she resisted, her hand slipping from his grasp like a limp noodle.
"Actually," she said, a newly sheepish tone to her voice, "I sort of got glitter all over my comforter. And my pillowcase. And possibly other areas I haven't searched yet. It's basically a glitter war zone in my room, but it's all right. I'm cozy here on the couch."
"You're not sleeping on the couch," Nick said. He thought for a moment, and came to a solution. "Listen, I'll let you sleep in my room tonight. I'll sleep out here."
"What?" Jess asked, suddenly wider awake. She sat up. "You don't have to do that. I don't mind having to sleep out here. Promise."
"Let's not make a big deal about this," Nick said. "Just, c'mon."
In one fluid motion, he pulled her off the couch and hooked an arm under her legs, scooping her up in his arms. Jess squeaked, her hands flying to the back of his neck. He carried her to his room despite her protests.
"I'm not sleeping in your bed!" she whisper-shouted.
"Relax. The sheets are clean, if that's what you're worried about," he said as he entered his room.
"No, Nick, I said I'm fi—AH!"
He'd deposited her on his bed, but she sprang up and dodged every one of his movements as he tried to pull the covers over her, the two of them speaking over one another the whole time.
"Get under the covers, Jess."
"No, you can't make me!"
"Would you quit moving and just let me—"
"Nick!"
The abrasiveness in her voice was so unexpected that he immediately stopped and met her heated gaze. Her chest heaved with a hard exhale. He waited for her to say something, but she didn't say anything at first. She simply grabbed his sheets and flung them down.
"Get in."
"What?" Nick said. "No, I said I'll sleep on the—"
"Get in your own damn bed, Miller."
He complied, climbing into his bed and sliding in beside her. After she drew the covers over them, she fluffed up his pillow and promptly dropped her head into it.
For a while, there was nothing but tense silence between the two of them as they lay there in his bed, neither one moving. Nick looked over at Jess, whose back was to him. He turned away as well.
"Hey, Nick?"
Rustling of sheets. Nick turned back to find Jess staring at him.
"I know it was dumb," she said, "but I don't regret kissing you last night."
His heartbeat quickened, but he stayed quiet.
"Of course, with that being said," she went on, "it's probably better we didn't actually sleep together last night. I think if we had, it would have just…"
She held up her left hand, fingers curved. With her right hand, she pinched her thumb and index finger together, placed them inside and pulled her hand back. She then turned her left hand upside down and shook it out over his bed.
Nick stared at her in a dumbfounded silence.
"Did you just open up an imaginary can of worms and dump them all over my bed?"
Jess nodded, a playful grin on her lips.
"Why would you… I can actually feel them crawling," Nick said, squirming and swatting repeatedly at his comforter like a crazy person.
Jess let out a laugh, and while it was a lighthearted and joyful sound, it wasn't helping the matter by any means. In fact, it took Nick longer than he would've liked to get a hold of himself, but when he finally did, he looked back at Jess. The mirth in her eyes had since faded, replacing itself with a warm sincerity.
"Someday," she said, "you and I will figure this out."
Someday. He had to admit, he didn't hate the sound of that. Someday implied things weren't truly over between them. Someday meant they could find their way back to each other. It would take time, but it was possible.
"Yeah," he said. "I think we will."
She smiled at him again, a wide, effortless smile. He absolutely loved that smile of hers. It could light up the world with how bright it was. It filled him with hope. He was so caught up in the beauty of her smile that he'd barely registered when she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.
"Goodnight, Nick."
For a moment, he lay there in a stunned silence, only to smirk to himself as he settled comfortably beside her and closed his eyes.
"'Night, Jess."