He's cool, he tells himself for probably the 10th time since he got home. He doesn't regret taking the gun, or even shooting the gun. It's what he's been trained for, it's what he's been talking to Nate for, it's what he's been spending the last year coming to terms with.

So, no he doesn't regret it. Sam was proud of him. Everyone was proud of him, and hell, he was proud of himself. Hetty trusted him to do his job and he did it.

But his hands have been shaking since he got out of the shower.

He's also been staring at the wall for the past 45 minutes, his glasses abandoned in the bathroom, so his walls are more multicolored smudges than anything else. He's cool, he tells himself again, taking a deep breath, trying to silence the sound of gun shots in his head.

The walls are still just smudges, and his hands still tremble.

His phone buzzes, and he grabs it, thinking it's Hetty, or the team, or maybe even his grandmother, who he really needs to call, but it's none of those people.

Her picture is over 5 years old, her hair still in a pixie cut, but he can't bring himself to change it.

Did you change your locks?

He rolls his head to the other side of his apartment, hoping that maybe without his glasses, he can see through walls, but it's just a door.

He slips off the bed and goes to the door, not bothering to grab his glasses, because he knows what Nell looks like, and he thinks he can already predict her facial expression.

"I forgot my key." She says, walking in after he opens the door. In one hand she has a pack of Oreos, and in the other, it looks like the shape of one of Hetty's finest liquor bottles, but he can't be sure. He also is pretty sure Hetty wouldn't just give Nell one of her finest whiskeys, but if he knows anything, it's to not underestimate the power of Nell Jones.

He crosses his arms so she can't see him trembling and leans against the wall. "You could have just texted that." He says.

"Yeah, but it sounded more demanding. I wanted to give you the choice to answer the door." She riffles around his cabinets until she pulls out two tea cups, and pours the mystery liquid into them. "How are you?"

He wants to tell her he's fine, that it's only been two hours since she last asked him that, but instead he takes a sip and shrugs. "Kind of blind at the moment."

He sees her move, but the lines are all fuzzy, so when her hand brushes against his, he almost jumps.

"And here I thought maybe you liked the contacts."

He makes a face, and shakes his head.

"I flushed them down the toilet as soon as I got home."

Nell nudges herself between him and the island, close enough that he doesn't really need his glasses to see her clearly.

"You still cool?" she asks. At times like these, he feels like she can see straight into his soul, so he knows she will know if he's not being 100% honest, but at the same time…

"As a cucumber."

He watches her roll her eyes, smile dancing on her lips as she laughs at him. Her hand slides over his wrist and then she tugs, pulling his trembling hand into hers.

"I'm cold." He says, dragging his eyes away from her and onto a spot on the kitchen wall he can't see properly.

"I see that."

He squeezes his eyes shut, preparing to explain himself, when her lips touch his knuckles.

His lungs stop working for a second.

"Nell."

He opens his eyes, and she's staring at him, eyes twinkling with something that vaguely looks like trouble.

"I know how you operate, Eric Beale. So, I know you don't want to talk about it right now." She drops his hand, an instead slides her hands up his chest toward his shoulders, pulling herself closer to him in the process. "So, we don't have to talk."

She's close enough now that everything is 20/20 clarity.

"I'm proud of you today. I mean, I'm usually proud of you, but today, you saved a bunch of people, held off an entire group of bad guys, and most importantly, didn't get shot." She knots her fingers into his hair, and gently leads his face closer to hers. "So, I'm going to kiss you now."

She waits a fraction of a second, just enough time for him to nod, before her lips slide against his.

It's soft and gentle, and his hands stop trembling when he presses them against the island, caging her in.

She pulls back, licking her lips, before tilting her head to the side. Her thumb smooths over his temple, and she pushes up on her toes trying to make herself even taller.

"Cool?" She asks, slightly breathless.

"Totally, totally cool." He says, sliding his arm around her waist.

Her smile turns downright sinful, and then her lips are against his again, this time without the gentleness. It's more teeth, and bruising intensity, and hands tugging at hair, and ripping her tights when he lifts her, stumbling across the living room, almost cracking his head on the wall when he falls onto the couch, her knees digging into the cushions.

He pulls back for a second, needing to catch his breath, but her lips just trail down his jawline and catch along his earlobe, before moving down to his throat. And they've done this, once before, over a year ago, on the couch of the boatshed, but this time it feels different.

He's in a better place now, a safer head space, even if his hands still tremble a bit. Nell's hand still at the edge of his shirt, and she pulls back, lips red and cheeks flushed.

He tucks a curl behind her ear, trying to get his heart beat back to a more reasonable rate before he kisses her until her name is the only thing he'll ever remember.

And then, she just smiles at him, like they have all the time in the world, like nothing is going to stop them, ever again.

He frames her face and drags her lips back to his, and she's still smiling, and he thinks, as long as Nell Jones is smiling, everything would turn out okay.

Hey! Thanks for reading! I wrote this mainly because the show refuses to give us anything. So yeah. I wrote it in like an hour, so apologies for mistakes. Title is from Us by James Bay.