Nick and Andy became addicted to that stupid recipe. The nice thing about omelets is that they are flexible things to make, so even when they're out of a certain ingredient, it's still as amazing as ever - as long as there are tomatoes involved.
That's what really ties it all together, Andy thought as she stared down at the tomato in her hand. Without the tomato, it's just another omelet. We could throw anything in our eggs, and it would still taste great as long as we had tomato.
It was a cheery thought, to be sure, especially considering she wasn't the best of cooks. Usually, Nick was the one that did all the kitchen work. She could do brownies, and mac and cheese, but that was about it.
What she would never tell Nick was that she was actually pretty decent at following the recipe for their omelet. (His were way better. She didn't want him to stop making them.)
At that moment, she was bustling around their apartment's kitchen alone. She had the day off at the bar, and Nick was off on a job and wasn't due back until the next day, so Andy figured it was the perfect time to make herself an omelet.
Half an hour later found Andy snuggled up on the couch watching a bad soap while digging into her tomato omelet. It wouldn't have taken her nearly as long to make if she'd actually known where anything in the kitchen was, but...okay, Nick did all of the cooking. She didn't really ever use the kitchen!
She was about two thirds done with her omelet (and five thirds done with the show she was watching) when she heard the front door's handle being jiggled. Instantly, she was on guard, tensing up, putting down her food and throwing her blankets aside.
She debated on grabbing the gun from beneath the couch, but decided against it. She figured she could handle herself, and didn't really want to risk blowing their cover.
Andy tiptoed over towards the door, fists clenched lightly and arms ready to swing. She couldn't remember if she had locked the door or not. She wasn't sure what to do next.
True McNally style, she gave in to instinct and threw open the door with one hand, gearing up to punch with the other. Only the sight of Nick, eyes wide and face a ruddy red, stopped her arm's movement.
"Nick!" she called out quietly, distantly noting Vaughn and PJ behind him. Her arm dropped to her side slowly. "I thought you were some robber! What are you doing back so soon?"
"Hey, nice to see you too!" he said warmly, his eyes teasing. "No one reason as to why the early arrival, job just fell into place pretty quick." He said it all quickly, eyes boring into hers with all traces if teasing gone. Keep quiet, they said, until they've left. Until he could share the real story.
"Oh," Andy said kind of numbly. The gazes of Nick's 'buddies' gave her an uncomfortable shiver and she remembered who she was here. "Well, I'm glad to have you back." She tried for a happy voice, but wasn't sure how well she succeeded. She put one hand on Nick's shoulder and the other one grabbed the bottom hem of his shirt, pulling him close until their lips mushed flat against each others. She put some force against his for a few seconds - one, two, three - before drawing back slowly.
"Very glad," Nick said quietly before turning to send off the other guys. Within five minutes, the two of them were alone and Nick was collapsing on the couch, looking completely exhausted now he could actually be Nick.
"What happened?" Andy asked quietly. She leaned one shoulder against the wall near him in an attempt to give him space.
"They lost the delivery. Not on our end - our guy never showed up. We waited hours longer than we were supposed to before giving up. Didn't even bother going to our drop off point. Just came straight home."
"Well, you scared the crap out of me, that's for sure," Andy said as she pushed off the wall and walked closer.
Nick gave a half smile, or tried to at least, before sitting up and looking her right in the eyes. "I'm worried, Andy," he whispered. "No pickup, no drop off - for one, Blackstone's not gonna be too happy. But the boss is gonna be a million times worse. This might be my out, whether I want it or not."
Andy's teeth clenched together at the terrifying and, frankly, frustrating thought of their op falling to pieces. Her mind raced through different scenarios and variables and solutions, attempting to find some way to fix this.
All she could come up with: omelet.
She grabbed her mostly eaten one and shoved it into his hands without a word before heading off to the kitchen to make him another.
She'd already cracked the eggs into the pan before Nick finally said something.
"Wait," he said haltingly. "I thought...I thought you couldn't cook!" She glanced at him but said nothing. "What is this? You've been making me make this for months!" His voice was so full of indignation, her eyebrows raised, although she could hear the playfulness behind it quite clearly. "I've perfected the recipe! And you could make it by yourself just fine this entire time?" He seemed to wake up with every word he spoke, returning to himself and the present and right there with Andy in their little apartment.
She had to fight back a smile.
It had been a long day at work, what with the anthrax and that idiot Howard and Marlo. Andy's still quietly reeling over what she learned about the woman and all the implications it held.
There's nothing Andy wants more in that moment than one of Nick's fabulous omelets.
One of her own will have to do.
It's been ages since she's made the omelet, and it takes her a good 15 minutes, even in her own kitchen and the recipe memorized inside out.
As she gets all the ingredients together (peppers, she notes, she needs to buy peppers), her mind drifts back to that day months ago, one of the few times Nick let her take care of him like that. It was a nice change, and relaxing for her to know that he was resting and recharging.
After she'd finished his omelet, they'd found a French TV channel to put on mute and dubbed two full length movies themselves. It was the early hours of the morning when Nick had passed out, and almost dawn by the time she decided to stop watching over him (because, yeah, that's not creepy at all) and go to bed.
They'd never really talked about it, but she could see it - still could even now - in his eyes. He appreciated her and her friendship in ways that he couldn't seem to express vocally.
She feels the same.
Oh gosh, guys, I apologize for the ridiculously long wait. Life's been weird, and I'll just leave it at that. I haven't even seen the last, like, three new episodes! I miss my cops dearly!
Now, whether you ship McCollins or not (please do not spoil me pleasepleaseplease), this is sort of written either way, I guess. More-so shippy I think, since I feel like this develops their friendship - and the best romantic relationships come from great friendships, so!
Let me know what you think, and I hope you enjoyed the tomato-omelet story!