A/N: One-shot of Nick and Jess. A challenge to write an "M" style fic where neither of them touch each other. Hope you enjoy. Mostly written for Not-A-Mer-Gentleman and her Ness/Nick Miller withdrawal.

None of this is About the Chair

Rain was bucketing against the windows. It was really coming down. Dark clouds obscured the sun like it was the middle of the night. It was a hell of a storm outside. Nick was watching the television, keeping an ear out for the distant rumble of thunder and hoping the power held. He wasn't watching anything remotely interesting, but he was comfortable and the beer was cold in his hand and he didn't want to have to move.

The front door startled him; whoever had opened it had practically kicked it in. He sloshed beer over his wrist and stared down as slow drips hit his thigh. Frowning for half a second, he bent his head to try and catch as much with his mouth as he could.

"Nick. Thank God. I need your help." Jess was breathless at the door, calling to him with exaggerated emphasis. He wasn't looking at the door; he was too busy trying to salvage his drink. Once he slopped up most of it, he ran the back of his spit and beer dampened hands against his pants. Hopefully, stickiness wouldn't set in. Although, he could have probably just rinsed the whole wrist under water, but again, he was really comfortable.

"Nick?" Jess's heavy steps stopped right in front of him. He was a little peeved at her, since it was her fault his drink had slipped. What was she doing opening the door like a savage? Doors had knobs for a reason. His eyes started at her knees and worked their way up, more slowly than he intended. The fact that her legs were bare had been a particularly nice realization, but then her rain soaked dress had clung to her in all the right places and some of his anger melted away.

"Nick." She said again, gesturing with her hands. "I said I need you to help me with something."

"Uh-huh." He nodded, then blinked. Her hair was down and wet and curling at the ends, framing pale skin and ruby lips and blue eyes…Nick cleared his throat, shaking the thoughts away. Not exactly appropriate, but he was a man and she was a soaking wet woman in a dress. He was not to be blamed for the wandering thoughts. Still, he shifted in his seat, now uncomfortable. "Wait, what'do you need help with?"

She sighed, crossing her arms and staring down at him all defiant and stern. "Well. If you had been paying any attention to what I've been saying, you'd know that I need your help with that beautifully jumbled mess over there." She motioned to the doorway and he leaned forward in his seat to see around the couch.

"What the hell is that, Jess?" He was looking at a pile of wood that sort of resembled a chair. It was coated pretty heavily in bright yellow paint and there were flecks of some pink and blue design on it, but most of the pieces weren't actually attached. They'd been bundled together with a scarf and some super thin string he couldn't really see from that distance.

"What'da mean, 'what the hell is that?' It's a chair, Nick." She walked over to it, looking down fondly with her hands on her hips. "Or it will be a chair. A beautiful chair. You know, once I put it together."

His frown deepened, his eyes narrowing as he set his drink down and stood over her 'chair.' "Jess, you don't know how to build a chair. How're you going to fix this?"

She laughed, throwing her head back and he didn't like the way her eyes settled on him or the light tap of her hand against his shoulder. "Oh, Nick." She chuckled a bit more. "I can't fix it."

"So that's what you need my help with. You just bring piles of junk into the loft and I'm supposed to put it together like I'm some Bob the Builder contractor on call?" He was a bit put off by the assumption. Sure, he was going to build that damn chair, but that didn't mean she didn't have to ask. Really, it was himself that was making him angry. He was the idiot who jumped through her hoops.

Jess raised her eyebrows, smirking. "Bob…the builder? How do you know Bob the Builder?" She was laughing as she asked and that made things worse.

"You know what, I'm not helping you. Forget it. Just build it yourself. You do know which end of the hammer to use, right? Cause I am not showing you again." He stuck a finger in her face and stalked off to his room. Damn it, his wrist was sticky. He brought it to his lips as he reached for his door with the other hand.

"Wait, Nick. No. Don't. I need you." He paused. Don't turn around. Don't do it. He did. He turned around. "Please, Nick. I can't do it by myself. I need your…super fancy…tool building things." She mimed using a hammer as she spoke, her eyes so big and blue it was cruel. Jess seemed to know exactly how to play with his masculine ego. The right pout to her lips, batting of her impossibly thick eyelashes. It was like he had to prove to her he could do it. Every time, it just made him want to satisfy her. And that was not meant the way it sounded. He obviously didn't mean to satisfy her sexually. That was just…wrong. Ha. He'd not even thought about how clingy that blue and white polka dot dress was for at least five minutes. Now, though, he was and where the white dots hit her skin he could swear was completely translucent. Helping her right now would be the worst idea ever.

"Fine. Fine. I'll build the dumb chair. Happy?" He shook his head and then went to grab his tool box. Nice move on his part. Really. That's all he needed was to hole himself up in the otherwise empty loft with her in a soaked through dress playing on his weaknesses. This was in every way, a bad idea.

When he left his room, Jess had pulled the pile of wood into her room, leaving a soaking trail through the hallway. His eyes went wide as she stood up and dusted off her hands. In her room? Was she trying to kill him?

"Jess, what're you…uh, I could've just fixed it out here. There's more space and…" He swallowed.

She shrugged. "Well, if Schmidt comes in and sees this he'll throw a fit. I don't want him breaking it like he did my hutch so, I thought it best if I just kept this particular find out of his reach." She gave him a winning smile and his resolve to argue the point further crumbled.

Throwing down his tool bag he knelt over her chair and tried to untangle it. He ran a finger over the string he couldn't see earlier, lifting the finger to his mouth and tasting fresh mint.

"Is this floss, Jess?"

She nodded. "I didn't really have anything else to tie it with. The scarf just wasn't holding up." She reached down and plucked the scarf away with one tug.

Nick began to pull the floss free with two hands, snapping it where he pulled until he worked all of it free. She'd used a shit ton of the stuff. "Why'd you even have floss? Who carries floss but not rope? If I was going to carry either, it'd be rope. For sure." He looked up and her mouth was hanging open. "Jess?"

"Huh?" She shook her head, closing her eyes tight and then smiling again.

"I said…never mind." He began to separate the wood pieces on the ground, turning them over in his hands before laying them out and processing where they would fit together. The main seat of the chair was intact and the wood seemed mostly whole. There were no serious chips in the paint, though he didn't consider that a positive.

Jess inched toward him, then scooted along her bed to get past. "I'm just…I'll be right back." She flew from the room and he shrugged. She was a weird one.

After figuring out most of the pieces, he knew that he'd have to find some new nails. Some of the ones in the chair were salvageable, but most were rusty and bent at terrible angles. He pulled them all from the wood and tossed them into his bag. Easy stuff. This wouldn't be a hard fix after all. He felt he could scrounge around his room if he needed more nails, but he'd definitely have enough.

Jess returned and set a bottle of Heisler near his feet, a new bottle freshly opened. He glanced at it and offered a quick thanks. She had a towel in her hand and was rubbing it over her hair, frizzing out the edges. It was distinctly feminine, watching her rub that towel over herself. She patted down her arms and then her legs. She tossed her hair back with a dramatic flip that sent a breeze of Jess scented heaven wafting over him. Girls usually smelled good, but this scent was doing something to him that was not at all appropriate for roommates.

Distracted, he hadn't realized his mouth had fallen open or that he'd been staring, eyes dark with intent. God, what a fucking creeper. Jess caught him at it and he tried to play it off with a laugh, but that came out all throaty and low. Even worse.

"Everything okay?" She asked, eyes direct. They were so damn big she was like a cartoon character. Big eyes were sexy, he'd thought that even before she'd moved in. No lie, he had always had a thing for big blue eyes, so it wasn't weird that hers were making his throat tight and heart race. That wasn't anyone's fault. Just nature doing its thing.

"Yeah. Oh, yeah." He scoffed, like her question was ridiculous. "I'm cool. So, uh, why'd you want this chair anyway? Where'd you find it?" He tried to sound conversational.

"Oh, well, I was driving, back when it wasn't bucketing cats and dogs, and I saw it on the curb and so I wrapped it up and put it in my car. It seemed so sad sitting there like common street garbage, I mean look at it. The color is so bright, that color says 'I love sunshine and kittens please don't let me turn into scrap.'" Yeah, she had said that in a fake cartoony voice. "So I had to save it." She finished her story and he was truly astounded that she was a real person. Like, a real adult who saw chairs on the side of the road that told her it was the sun or something like that. It was insane, obviously. A chair was just wood with some paint on it. It couldn't be anything than just a chair with some paint on it. And it sure as hell didn't talk. Not without the proper mix of alcohol or some drugs. But she wasn't on drugs. She was high on life and that brought out the pessimist in him.

He nodded, shaking his head a bit and smiling. He didn't know why he was smiling, but it was a full on grin that somehow had to do with that ridiculous story. "Fair enough." He set to work fixing one of the legs into the seat of the chair. Thankfully, none of the supports had snapped or he would have had to make good use of an entire roll of duct tape.

There was a brief debate in his head over whether he should use screws, but he didn't want to split the wood so he kept with the nails. He just made sure to use thicker ones than the previous builder had. Hopefully, they would hold better. Absently, he reached to his side and felt cool glass on his fingertips. Ah, that was the stuff right there. He raised the bottle to his lips, letting a few sips slide down his throat before catching the last of it in his mouth. He set the bottle down, eyeing the chair as he titled his head and gargled. It was just something that he did when he was thinking and it made the beer foam in his mouth before he swallowed.

"Hey, Jess, do you think you could grab me a piece of sandpaper from my desk?" He didn't get an answer so he looked to see if she was still there. She was, but her eyes were far away. They were staring straight through him and he waved a hand in front of her face. What was she doing with her hands? One was sliding down her hip from her seat on her bed. Holy fuck. Her eyes were so distant and he had to be reading her wrong, right now. What was she doing? Panicked, well and truly freaking out, Nick shouted her name. "Jess. Jess."

"Yeah." She stopped, sitting up straight and shaking her head. He was frowning at her, pointing like she'd just turned her head 360 degrees.

"What the hell were you doing?" He scolded, blaming her. Damn it was she trying to do this to him?

"What'd you mean 'what the hell was I doing?'" She snapped, leaning forward. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Me?" He shook his head, eyes still wide with the panic of the moment. "Me? I'm just trying to build your dumb chair."

"Okay. And I'm just sitting here waiting for you to build the dumb chair." She retorted. Her eyes were severe, glaring down at him. "Why are we yelling?"

"I don't know." He swallowed, feeling his heartbeat even out. "I don't know."

"Okay." She let out a huff and shook her head. "Okay."

"Yeah. Okay." He agreed, frowning and staring at a spot on her comforter. He didn't want to know what she'd been thinking about just then. Whatever daydream had passed into her head…he didn't want to dwell on it. But that didn't mean he wouldn't. Eyes heavy with focus on nothing, his mind leapt to erotic notions of Jess. That gleam in her eyes when he first looked at her, there was something smoky and dark in it. Her hand had been inches from her hip, and sliding lower. Then up again in a caressing gesture over her drying clothes.

He saw her lean back on her elbows, back arching as she swayed her hips like leaves in the breeze. Dark lashes framed blue eyes in a bad-girl kind of leer. Oh shit. Her lips were obnoxiously red. Her hair dark tangles, the edge of a strand catching the corner of her mouth, drawing her tongue up over her lips. This Jess wanted things dirty. She told him with her eyes. She wanted messy and hard. Things that would have made him blush, but that now were sounding so fucking incredible. He didn't know what had come over her, but she called his name and chills, real fucking shivers worked right up his spine. God, if she so much as touched him right now he'd be done.

"Nick." Her voice crashed through him like ice water. Nick blinked away any thoughts of Jess from his mind, but when he opened his eyes she was there. Leaning forward on her bed, reaching for him, not exactly like that hell-cat seductress in his head, but more with sincere concern. Nick stood up, backing away from her hand. This had been such a mistake.

"What? Nick, what's wrong?" He couldn't look at her. He was embarrassed, a bit guilty, and still so aroused it was painful.

"Uh, can we take a break? I gotta get some air or…" He tried to turn and leave, but she cut him off at the door. Oh God. That was too close. He'd almost smacked into her, and the feeling of boobs against him was the last thing he wanted just then. Okay, it was the first thing he wanted, but that was exactly why he was glad it didn't happen.

"Okay. What is happening here?" She demanded. Then she crossed her arms and now that he was able to look at her, there was a bit of indecision in her own eyes. "We were…one minute you're working. Everything's fine. And then the next…what?"

"I dunno, Jess." He breathed, in all seriousness.

"Well, I just…" She pouted her lips, drawing his eyes to them like a magnet. "Things feel weird. Right now. And I don't…"

"They feel weird for me too, Jess." He didn't know why he kept saying her name. Just that he liked the flavor on his tongue. It was like a taste of her he could savor without feeling guilty. And there he was again, making things with her sexual. He blamed the blood raging in his pants.

How did they come to be standing so close? Jess was in her doorway, just a step in front of him. He could see every eyelash, the darker hues of blue in her eyes. The chill swept through him again.

"Nick…" She trailed off, but the fact that all she'd said was his name in a husky whisper had his jaw locking in place. The urge to kiss her had never consumed him so fully. He was beginning to question why he wasn't kissing her.

His answer was more heaved breaths and dark eyes drinking in the curve of her lips, the little space between them, the casual swish of her tongue to the back of her teeth. What the fuck was happening right now?

He reached for her, his arm coming up and then resting on the door frame near her head. He braced his arm, leaning in, but never breaking her space. The distinct catch in her breathing made his senses hum in satisfaction. He had just done that to her.

"We…shouldn't." Her voice was still low, her body squirming a bit, her shoulders pushing toward him.

"Shouldn't what?" He teased, because for some reason, teasing her was the appropriate response to all this. Turing this into some sort of sex version of chicken was the total badass thing to do just now. He wanted to coax more gasps from her. Wanted to urge whimpers up her throat with his hands and mouth.

"K…" She cleared her throat. "Ki…" Her jaw moved forward, her teeth clamping down over her tongue.

"Kiss, Jess?" He was peering down at her, the tickle of her hair just reaching his forearm where he held the doorframe.

She drew her lips together and nodded, then her tongue drew out over her lips moving with a distinct predatory hunger. "Yes. I'm saying…we shouldn't k-kiss." Her stutter over the word embolden him further.

"We don't have to." His eyes traveled down, his thumb catching the edge of her dress and fluttering the material over her legs. But the touch was so subtle, that his hand didn't actually reach her.

"You're not suggesting…" But he could see want in her eyes. She wanted the suggestion. She wanted him suggesting her standing up, against a wall, clothes still on, teeth on skin, rough suggestions. She gave a low laugh, bringing a shoulder to her cheek in a cutesy way that read timid and shy. The flirty kind of timid that wanted him to chase her.

He drew his head forward, sucking in the breath as it left her mouth before closing his eyes and stopping. There was a line he couldn't push across. A barrier he didn't want to destroy. A friend-line that would be devastated if he took this any further. Because the way he was feeling right now, the way she was looking at him, this would not have been a casual make-out. There was no way he would have settled for kissing her when he wanted to drink her, consume every damn chuckle until she was begging him, crying his name, screaming. Fuck, this was getting dark. The overwhelming surge to take her hit him just as he pulled his mouth away, eyes closed and head titled down. He took a slow, shuddering breath before he could look at her.

"I don't mind not kissing." She was grasping for it, not begging, but clinging to the mood and trying to keep it going. There was a note of anticipation in her voice, a quick darting desperation in her eyes. He thrilled inside, feeling smug satisfaction at having sparked that in her. Him. Nick Miller. Was making Jessica Day crazy horny.

He swallowed, trying to wet his dry throat. "I can't." Turn this into something weird. He held no doubts that his self control had only held this long because he was incredibly scared. Terrified of screwing up this rhythm he'd built with her. This dynamic of friendship that he had never in his life had with a female. What they had hadn't been built on sex. Now that sex had entered into things, he was going to do his damnedest to keep it at bay. Because once the actual sex happened, and not just the crazy wild eye stuff they had going on just then, he knew there would be no going back. So he was fully intent on fighting it right now. But she wasn't making that easy. He began to slip sideways, trying to work his way past her without touching her. It was like his short day dream moments ago, magnified by a million.

"Can't?" She stuck her leg out, halting him. If he wanted to get past her, he'd have to cross over that thigh. One leg over the other…with her knee dangerously positioned between his legs. Her dress was so fucking short. How did she get away with wearing that in public? The polka dot material was riding up milky skin, his eyes roaming to that tight black belt and then down…

"Jess." He said her name like a command. Warning her that this was not cool. That this was not the way it should go down. But something had made her bold now and she leaned forward on her leg, a stunted form of lunge in the narrow door-frame. Holy fucking hell.

He let out a strangled breath through his nose, watching the muscles tighten and flex as she leaned back out of the lunge. His heart was erratic. Pumping like a drum beat in his ears. His eyes were so low, so focused and yet unfocused. He brought a hand up to his face, drawing his fingers over his forehead, a light mist of sweat smearing under his hand. "Move." He ordered.

"Or what?" She challenged, eyeing him as she moved her leg to lean her body over the door-frame. What the hell was this? What was Jess playing at with the seductive I-don't-give-a-shit attitude? Thunder roared in the distance and the lights flickered. It drew some of her attention, but he was all about her just then.

"Or I'll do exactly what you're asking me and neither of us will like it." He snapped, but this wasn't like normal arguments with her. He was deathly serious. His voice was completely firm. He was too fucking turned on to play these kinds of games with her. There was almost no willpower left in him. She was playing with a fire that was already on full blaze.

He could see her throat move as she swallowed the meaning of what he said, but she was still doing this. Still drawing this out. "I haven't asked you to do anyt—"

"You don't want me to kiss you, Jess?" He was angry. So angry. So wound up and blood pumping and he had to direct all that adrenaline somewhere. "Then you are basically asking me to fuck you. You're asking me to touch you, right? You're asking me to use my hands, rip through what is left of this stupidly wet dress, take you up against that dresser." Her eyes were wide, he wasn't sure if she was scared or even more aroused now. "You're asking me to take you, full contact, no waste-of-time shows or cuddly assurances, bruises in the morning, no stops fucking you. Cause that's what you're asking from me, Jess. That's what your eyes are saying. That's what 'no kissing' tells me. And that's not what you really want. That's not what I should do."

She was standing straight now, eyes boring into him. He still wasn't sure if he'd shocked her in a good way or in the bad way. But there was a space to get by her now and he swooped in to fill it before she could block him. Stopping just beside her left shoulder he looked down at her. Her face was still forward, eyes unblinking. Maybe he'd scared her…

"I'm sorry, Jess." He moved his head, bending toward her like he was going to kiss the side of her face. What? He stopped, blinked, and then rushed to his room. He was going to need to jump into a bucket of ice water to cool himself down. For days after this he'd be torn between the deepest point of self loathing regret for passing up such an opportunity. Then they'd settle into a familiar dynamic of watching a movie while sharing a bowl of popcorn, both of them ridiculing the same parts or laughing at the same jokes. That's when he could breathe a sigh of relief that'd he'd gotten out of there when he did. Any part of that mess would have been devastating to their relationship. I mean, right? He was correct in this, sleeping with her would have made things weird. Hello? Right? Like, there was no chance that their relationship could have simply shifted from the friendship dynamic to the boyfriend/girlfriend who had super intense sex dynamic…Nick cursed. What an idiot.

End

A/N: Hope that was okay? I was really trying to up the tension/sexual level of this but not have any contact. There are probably some "believability" issues with this...like how something like this wouldn't change their future dynamic, but eh. It's a one-shot. Thanks for reading. ^_^