Ten Times Waverly Earp was Definitely NOT on a Date with Nicole Haught

by Kimberly21570

This WayHaught story begins with their conversation in the patrol car scene, and follows Waverly and Nicole's journey back in time as they reflect upon the moments they've shared together—the moments that led to Waverly's self-discovery, and ultimately drew her into Nicole's arms. Some moments are light and fun, and others, dark and heavy, because it is the coalescence of those sha

4. Chapter 4—Reminiscences and Restoration

Title: The Ten Times Waverly Earp was Definitely NOT on a Date with Nicole Haught

Author / Date of Inception: Kimberly21570 / May 2016

Fandom: Wynonna Earp

Pairing: Waverly Earp and Nicole Haught—WayHaught

Synopsis: This WayHaught story follows Waverly and Nicole's journey back in time as they reflect upon the moments they've shared together—the moments that led to Waverly's self-discovery, and ultimately drew her into Nicole's arms. Some moments are light and fun, and others, dark and heavy, because it is the coalescence of those shared experiences that leads us to fall in love.

Chapter Summary: Chapter 4 touches on a little more of Nicole's backstory, as well as some memories for the Earp girls—some happy, some sad, as they work to clean up the homestead, making it a real home once again. It's another rather long one—about 30 pages total, so once again, grab a drink and a snack, sit back, relax, and enjoy!

Rating: Chapter 4 is rated PG-13 for a bit of coarse language, as well as some sexual thoughts and innuendo. This chapter continues us on that slow burn toward NC-17. Anyone who is familiar with my writing knows it's well worth the wait. My theory on ratings is… if I wouldn't want my 16-year-old niece to read it, it gets an R or NC-17 rating; otherwise, it's usually gonna be PG-13.

Disclaimer: The characters of Waverly, Wynonna, and Willa Earp, Nicole Haught, John Henry "Doc" Holliday, Deputy Marshal Xavier Dolls, Gus McCready, Sheriff Randy Nedley, Bobo Del Rey, and washed-up rodeo clown Champ Hardy, as well as the Shorty's Saloon and Homestead settings are owned by creator Beau Smith, NBCUniversal, the Syfy Channel, and SEVEN24 Films IDW Entertainment. No copyright infringement intended with regard to any of the aforementioned persons or entities. With the exception of references to episode 1.04, The Blade, which aired on 4.22.2016, and episode 1.09 Bury Me with My Guns On, which aired on 5.27.2016, the story content and dialogue in these scenes are original. Written for fun, not profit. All other standard disclaimers apply.

Finally, there's no beta on this, since I'm just writing it for fun, so any and all mistakes are my own. If you see anything major, I'd appreciate the heads-up so I can correct it. Thank you again for all the follows, favorites, kudos, and comments. Your interest in this story is deeply appreciated, and I honestly feel overwhelmed—in the best possible way—by your words of support and encouragement with regard to my work. I've been writing for more than 15 years, and I have to say, the compliments I've read from you all regarding this story as some of the most generous I've ever received. I lack words to express how much that means to me. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

I hope y'all continue to enjoy!

Kim

The Ten Times Waverly Earp was Definitely NOT on a Date with Nicole Haught

"We are what we remember. If we lose our memory, we lose our identity and our identity is the accumulation of our experiences. When we walk down the memory lane, it can be unconsciously, willingly, selectively, impetuously or sometimes grudgingly. By following our stream of consciousness we look for lost time and things past. Some reminiscences become anchor points that can take another scope with the wisdom of hindsight."

— Erik Pevernagie

Chapter 4 – Reminiscences and Restoration:

Friday, May 27, 2016… Shorty's Saloon—2:45 p.m. Mountain Daylight Time

"Hey—" The low-toned, throaty greeting captured Waverly's attention, as stealthily, Wynonna slid onto the barstool across from her for the second time that day. Earlier, after she'd chased the so-called real-estate agent into the bathroom, she'd fled the bar without a word, looking more than a little edgy. And Waverly hadn't expected a return appearance.

"What are you doing back here?" Waverly asked, her hands swiftly shelving a rack of clean tumblers. "The way you ran out earlier, it was like you were on a mission. I figured I wouldn't see you again today."

"Sorry for running off," Wynonna apologized. "I almost killed that guy, and it turns out he wasn't a Revenant," she explained, her voice low and gruff. "It kinda freaked me out."

"I imagine," Waverly empathized, her face pinching together in a sharp wince. "You okay now?"

"Yeah," Wynonna said passively. "Doc helped me sort it out. Kind of…"

"What do you mean, 'kind of'," Waverly questioned. "You're being awfully cryptic, Wyn."

"Look, it doesn't really matter," Wynonna said, brushing it aside. She really didn't want to get into the fact that 'helping her sort it out' was a euphemism for 'I nearly had sex with Doc—again.' Waverly didn't even know about the first time yet, and if Wynonna had her druthers about it, she never would. "I'm back 'cause I didn't get what I came for the first time."

"Which is what, exactly?" Waverly queried, equal parts curious… and suspicious.

"Is Nicole gonna be around the homestead this weekend?" Wynonna asked. The rookie officer had taken to spending more time there since their little impromptu party behind her desk, and their subsequent mutual kidnappings, a few weekends ago. Wynonna assumed it was because she'd given Nicole her stamp of approval to hang out with Waverly more.

"What?" Now Waverly was confused. Wynonna never asked about Nicole. Not even when she saw the two of them talking at the station. "Why?"

"Just… answer the question," Wynonna huffed.

"No—," Waverly adamantly refused. "Not until you tell me why."

Rolling her eyes, Wynonna sighed. "Look, Dolls suspended me from Black Badge this morning, because I failed some stupid psychological assessment," she explained, making a face that matched the mocking tone in her voice. What she didn't say was that in taking her badge, he'd taken a part of her fledgling identity—her newly-found sense of purpose—and with it, the belief she was just beginning to cultivate in herself. "And I just… I need to get outta this town for a couple of days."

"So you're running again," Waverly accused, an amalgam of hurt and disappointment flooding over her. She closed her eyes, staving off tears.

Wynonna couldn't blame her for doubting, but she'd be damned if she let her continue believing it was true. "No, Waves," she denied firmly. Reaching across the bar, she took her sister's hands into her own. "No. I swear, I'm not running. I just need a few days, okay? And… I don't wanna leave you at the homestead alone."

"I don't need a frickin' babysitter, Wynonna," Waverly snapped. Nothing irked her more than being treated like a helpless child.

"Oh, come on, it's not like that," Wynonna said. "It's just that… Well, you seem more settled, and, frankly, you sleep better when she's around."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't count on that happening anymore," Waverly said, sounding forlorn.

"What?" Wynonna looked concerned. "Why not?"

Biting her bottom lip, Waverly avoided Wynonna's gaze. "We uh, we had a fight this morning," she finally confessed. "It was awful."

Wynonna made a face at her. "What the hell do the two of you have to fight about? I mean, it's not like you're fu… Ohhhh…" she practically howled, her eyes widening as if realizing some long-hidden truth, and then she grinned, almost devilishly. "A lovers' quarrel?" she teased giddily, knowing that it wasn't, but unable to pass on something this good.

"No!" Waverly snapped, slamming a glass down on the bar. Her anger rose so swiftly she couldn't contain it—and she couldn't even articulate why. "Why would you even say that?"

Startled by the noise, Gus's head jerked up from the paperwork she was reading over. Silently, she watched, ready to intervene if necessary.

"Hey, whoa, I was only joking." Wynonna raised her hands in mock surrender as she slowly backed away. "Jesus…"

"Sorry…" Waverly sighed, clearly frustrated with herself. It was basically the same reaction she'd had to Nicole this morning, at the mere mention of the word 'dating'. How ridiculous. "Guess I'm just being overly sensitive today."

"No, it's not you. Fuck," Wynonna cursed, slumping back down onto the barstool. "Guess I can thank fuckin' Bobo for that one," she muttered under her breath. She'd just come from skirmishing with him and his gang of undead demon misfits at the bridge, where he'd outed her and Doc without even blinking an eye.

"What does Bobo have to do with anything?" Waverly questioned, clearly confused.

"Never mind," Wynonna said, blowing out a dismissive breath. "Sorry for being such a douche."

"You're not a douche," Waverly placated. And then the corner of her mouth twisted into a smirk, "Lil' bit of a jerk, maybe…"

Wynonna gave a little laugh, as she grinned at her sister. She loved that Waverly didn't hold back the truth with her. "Listen, whatever you and Nicole are fighting about, I'm sure you'll work it out," she said supportively.

"Yeah, I hope so," Waverly said, sounding dejected. "It's just that… Well, she usually comes in for a cup of coffee in the afternoon, or at least texts or something, and I haven't heard from her all day."

"Maybe she's just really busy," Wynonna suggested. "You know it's never quiet in Purgatory—or when it is, it means the shit's about to hit the fan."

"Yeah, maybe," Waverly granted, albeit a bit distractedly.

"Well, did you call or text her?" Wynonna asked, making the point that communication was a two-way street.

"No—," Waverly admitted sheepishly.

"Maybe that's what she's waiting for," Wynonna shrugged.

Waverly sighed. "You make a good point," she grudgingly admitted. "I was the one who was a jerk this morning."

Wynonna offered a lopsided grin. "Takes one to know one," she said, referring to herself and the way she'd acted a few minutes ago. And then she sighed. "Listen, just… give her a call, a text, or somethin'," she suggested. "She's been a better friend to you—hell, to us—than either one of us has ever had in this town full of judgmental assholes. Don't let go of somethin' that good, just to save your pride. Trust me, it's not worth it."

Wordlessly, Waverly nodded in agreement. And then she met Wynonna's gaze. "Thank you, Wyn," she said softly.

Suddenly overcome with emotion, Wynonna hopped up onto the bar, and quickly slid down on the other side, pulling Waverly into a tight hug in one smooth motion that surprised the both of them. She pressed a lingering kiss to Waverly's temple, as she held her close for several long moments. And when she released her, she grasped Waverly's biceps in her hands, meeting her gaze again. "I love you, Babygirl," she said, tears forming in those stormy blue eyes. "And I promise you, I'll be back by Monday. I'm never gonna leave you again."

Waverly felt her own eyes flooding with tears. "I believe you," she quietly assured, sniffing back the tears.

Finally releasing Waverly, Wynonna turned to leave, only to feel Waverly's hand catching her own, as she called out to her. She turned again, at the sound of her name falling softly from trembling lips, meeting green eyes that glistened with tears.

"Yeah?" she managed on a strangled whisper.

"I love you, too," Waverly said softly.

There was no way that Waverly could have known how desperately Wynonna needed to hear those words, needed to believe they were true. And yet she had said them in the one moment when they mattered more than anything else. Facing that woman, that analyst, earlier in the day had set in motion a course that could have destroyed Wynonna for good. Once again, she'd been locked in a room with someone whose job it was to pick apart her every thought, every emotion, every action, and label her value as a human being based upon some set of criteria made up by a bunch of bureaucratic assholes who probably qualified for an Axis II mental health diagnosis themselves.

Crazy.

Lunatic.

Murderer.

Whore…

Those where the labels townsfolk had assigned to her, when they couldn't find any other words that fit. Of them all, 'whore' seemed most fitting—at least to her. And why shouldn't she be? Lending her body to men, allowing it to sop up their desperate need, well… it was the one thing she was good for, after all. And finally, at the whims of those so-called doctors, the diagnoses came—and every single one they lobbed onto her was more damning than the one before, until all she was to them was a hodgepodge of diagnostic codes, a lockbox full of mind-altering pills, and a steady paycheck to line their coffers of greed.

Never again.

That's why she needed to get out of this town—before someone decided she needed to be locked up again. Because this time, they might decide to just throw away the key. And she just couldn't have that.

No. Not this time.

Just like Waverly, she had work to do.

Closing her eyes at the sound of those words from the one person who meant the most to her, Wynonna allowed the tears to fall. And the next thing she knew, she being pulled into Waverly's arms, this time, her little sister holding her with a fierceness neither of them knew she possessed. And from the shadows, Gus watched it all, finally realizing how truly wrong she had been. Wynonna wasn't a threat to Waverly—she was her salvation, just as Waverly was to her. God, she'd been a fool, keeping those girls apart the way she had. She only hoped they could forgive her one day.

Finally, regaining her composure, Wynonna drew in a breath, slowly releasing it as Waverly released her from their embrace. "Okay," she said, with renewed sense of purpose as she cradled Waverly's face in her hands. "I've gotta go."

"I know," Waverly acknowledged. Having watched the whirlwind of emotions that played across her sister's face, she finally understood what this was really about—Wynonna was just beginning to find her place in this world, and she was terrified of the past becoming prologue. "Call me later?"

"Absolutely," Wynonna promised. "As long as you call Nicole," she bartered.

"I will," Waverly quietly vowed. She brushed her hand along Wynonna's cheek, and then leaned in to kiss her in its wake. "Be careful," she cautioned. "I know it's not really your style, but… do it for me, okay?"

With tears in her eyes and a lopsided smile, Wynonna nodded. And then, she was gone, leaving Waverly to contemplate all that had transpired. And contemplate, she did—from everything that had just transpired with Wynonna, to the fight she'd had with Nicole that morning, until ultimately, her thoughts drifted back to the day when Nicole helped bring a sense of restoration to the homestead, in more ways than she could possibly ever know…

---

Saturday, April 23, 2016… The Earp Homestead—7:00 a.m. Mountain Daylight Time

"Sorry this place is still such a mess," Waverly said to Nicole with a slight grimace, as she set a piping hot cup of black coffee in front of her. Having taken Nicole on a quick tour of the house just to get her acquainted with the layout, they were sitting at the rickety old kitchen table—the only place that was safe to sit, actually.

It had taken some serious elbow grease, but she and Wynonna had managed to clean up all of the debris that they'd found strewn throughout the house after all those years of abandonment. It was unbelievable, some of the things they'd unearthed—especially the things that brought with them memories, both good and bad. Aesthetically, the place was looking a lot better, but still, the clean-up efforts felt almost futile at times. They had a lot of work to do.

The entire interior needed to be scrubbed down to remove years' worth of soot and grime. Some of the walls required patching, and others, a fresh coat of paint. Old wallpaper needed to be stripped and replaced, or the walls simply painted. The kitchen sink leaked, both from the faucet and underneath—they'd nearly flooded the kitchen when Wynonna first turned the water main back on—and the flushing mechanism in the upstairs bathroom needed to be replaced. And then there were those drab-looking wood-plank floors—neither of them really knew what to do with those. But they needed… something.

There were still sheets covering what was left of their parents' dilapidated furniture. Gus had covered them up when they closed up the homestead, moving Waverly home with them; though neither Waverly nor Wynonna really understood why she'd even bothered. Despite the cover, most of it had been damaged by the elements, and needed to be thrown away, along with the wooden chairs and that old porch swing that dangled haphazardly from the beam on the front porch, all of them aged to ruination by weather and the passage of time.

Waverly could remember daddy sitting out there at night, in that old green chair, guzzling cheap whiskey straight from the bottle and smoking his pipe as he listened to the soothing sounds of coyotes and owls—and silently searched the horizon for any sign of Revenants lurking at the perimeter of the homestead. No one could sit there now; not without endangering life and limb. Champ was supposed to come by later so he and Doc could haul it all off. And Dolls would be there soon. But until then, it would just be Nicole and Waverly—and Wynonna, once she managed to drag herself from that uncomfortable wooden bench where she'd landed last night, too drunk to even make it to her own bed.

"Well, that's kinda the point in me being here, isn't it?" Nicole asked, rhetorically.

Dragged from her bitter reminiscences, Waverly smiled at her. "Have I told you how much I appreciate you taking your day off to help us?"

Meeting Waverly's gaze, Nicole shrugged. "That's what friends are for, right?"

"Right," Waverly agreed.

"Y'know, this is a really great place," Nicole remarked after having her first real look at the house in the daylight. The only other time she'd been inside was when she dropped Waverly off after their hike—and then, she'd only really seen the kitchen because they'd come in through the side door. "It just needs a little restoration, some TLC."

"Yeah," Waverly agreed with a sharp laugh. "And a hell of a lot of elbow grease."

"It'll take a lot of work," Nicole agreed. "But it's got so much potential, Waves."

Surprised by the sincerity in Nicole's voice, Waverly smiled. No one ever talked about the homestead in anything other than negative terms. The fact that Nicole saw something positive brightened her entire day. "Really?"

"Well, yeah, really," Nicole said, sounding excited. "The house has a great floorplan. It looks small from the outside, but gosh, there's so much space in here." She glanced up then, noticing the detailed trim work. It was filthy, but the essence of its artistry was still visible. "And see these moldings," she said, pointing to them. "They're beautiful works of craftsmanship—hand carved, I guarantee it. And these floors," she went on, stomping a boot-clad foot, "Solid black walnut. They just need to be sanded and sealed, and they'll last forever. And if you decide you want those tile floors in the bathrooms like we talked about the other day, I can definitely do that for you. I can refinish the showers and the backsplash on the tub, as well."

"You would really do all of that for us?" Waverly asked, genuinely touched.

"What can I say?" Nicole shrugged. "I like working with my hands. It gives me a sense of accomplishment."

I'll bet it does, Waverly thought, working hard to stifle a blush. Instead, she grinned. "Those are definitely things we can talk about."

"Great," Nicole declared. "So what's the plan for today?" She took a sip of her coffee, and set the mug back down on the table. "You want me to just get started on the upstairs bathroom, or would you like a working sink first?"

Before Waverly could answer, a loud ruckus, followed by a series of expletives that would've made a sailor blush, assaulted them from the next room. And then Wynonna stumbled through the doorway, making her first official appearance of the day.

"I smell coffee," she grunted. And then she looked a tad bit confused. Barely half-dressed, she was barefooted and completely disheveled. Still, she looked better than she did most mornings, so Waverly didn't balk. She wasn't hung over though; just not quite awake yet, as was her usual, given the earliness of the hour. "Where did we get coffee?"

She knew the old coffeemaker they'd found when they first came back to the homestead was useless, and they had thrown it away, along with most everything else they'd found in the kitchen, save mama's set of cast-iron skillets and a deep fryer that apparently just wouldn't die. Those just needed to be cleaned and re-seasoned, and they would last forever.

"Wynonna doesn't do mornings," Waverly explained to Nicole, her face adopting that adorable teasing grin.

"One of many things I don't do before caffeine," Wynonna mumbled, as she slumped down at the kitchen table, muttering something under her breath about bratty little sisters and strangling them.

"Love you too, Sis," Waverly said playfully.

And then the aroma of coffee struck her again—it was like it was taunting her. Wynonna looked up, planning to give Waverly the stink eye. But instead, she spotted the sleek black and silver Quisinart coffee machine that had appeared on their kitchen counter, seemingly out of nowhere. It was like a gift from the gods! "Dude!" she exclaimed. "Where did we get a coffeemaker?"

"Uh, from the store," Waverly answered wittily. "You know… that building with all the things in it. And you give them money, and they let you take the things home?"

Nicole chuckled at Waverly's comical hand gestures and dry humor, but Wynonna was completely oblivious. Suddenly full of life, she lunged at the thing like it was the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. "Oh, my god, this thing is a dream," she practically growled as she fondled the newly-acquired appliance.

In a stealthy, two-fisted move, she simultaneously pulled a mug from the kitchen cabinet and the carafe from the warmer, and her hands meeting in the middle, she poured a brimming cup of the liquid heaven. Ignoring the sting as the hot liquid slid down her throat, she gulped down half the cup, moaning in pleasure with every swallow—it was the most amazing French roast, dark and full-bodied, that Waverly had clearly ground up fresh that morning. Salivating, she filled the cup up again, and a moment later, she was moving toward the table, full mug in hand and a broad grin on her face.

Shaking her head at her sister's antics, Waverly glanced back at Nicole. "Can I fix you something for breakfast?" she offered.

"What the fuck am I, chopped liver?" Wynonna groused as she dropped down in the chair next to Nicole again, banging her coffee mug on the table with a loud thud. Some of the steaming hot liquid sloshed out onto the surface, prompting another string of expletives from Wynonna's lips.

"Well, that mood didn't last long," Waverly muttered, making a face at her. "Sorry, but we're fresh out of doughnuts."

"Hey, I eat real food sometimes," Wynonna whined in dispute.

"Fine, I'll fix you something too," Waverly sighed, feigning a rather put-upon tone. She tossed a kitchen towel at Wynonna, knocking her upside the head with it. "But only this once. And only because we have company."

"Rude," Wynonna said, her face scrunched up as she drew out the accusation. It was clearly meant for both the comment and the misguided towel launch. Grasping the towel, she wiped up the coffee spill, and then dumped the towel in a heap in the middle of the table—a clear mark of the difference between herself and Waverly.

Rolling her eyes, Waverly planted her hands on her hips. "You want your meals served hot on the table, get a personal chef… or a 1950s housewife," she suggested. "I'm neither."

"I don't do chicks," Wynonna said flippantly.

Damned pity, Nicole thought. She knew a few lesbians who might be interested.

"Yeah, you only do assholes," Waverly commented.

Expressive blue eyes danced with mischief as Wynonna's lips curled into a roguish grin. "Only if they shower first, and then ask nicely," she said, suggestively waggling the tip of her tongue.

"Dude! Gross," Waverly protested.

Nicole couldn't help but laugh. "Wow, you two really are sisters," she commented, amused by their playful repartee, complete with tasteless sexual innuendo. It didn't seem to matter that they hadn't lived together since they were children; still, they shared that familiar banter between them. Watching them made her miss her own sisters. Terribly so.

"Unfortunately for Waves," Wynonna said self-deprecatingly.

"Aw… What's the matter, Wynonna? Haven't I given you enough validation today?" Waverly asked facetiously, as she moved toward her sister. "Here, let me remedy that…"

Delivered on a teasing tone, Waverly's playful threat drew a wary expression from Wynonna. She squirmed in her seat as she contemplated the fallout from her comment. Sometimes she should just keep her mouth shut.

Waverly laughed at the expression on her sister's face. Wrapping her arms around Wynonna's neck, she squeezed her tightly, as she smothered her cheek with kisses.

True to nature, Wynonna made a show of objecting. "Dude, come on, stop it," she protested, batting her hands at Waverly's arms, and trying to drag her face away. But the expression in her eyes gave her away—at least to Nicole.

She could tell that Wynonna needed that contact, needed to feel that affection from her sister, probably more than she needed to breathe. And in that moment, her heart was filled with empathy and affection for the young girl who must have felt so lost, and so alone—and for the woman who still struggled, not only to find her place in the world, but also to accept the love she so desperately needed from the only person who could help fill that emptiness inside her.

"Jesus, what is this, payback for letting Willa torment the shit outta you as a kid?" Wynonna groused. But the more Wynonna protested, the more persistent Waverly became. She plopped right down into Wynonna's lap, squeezing her even tighter.

"Nope," Waverly replied. "I have far more sinister plans for that."

Tussling with Waverly, Wynonna finally managed a look toward Nicole. "See what I have to deal with here?"

Nicole raised her hands in mock protest. "Hey now, don't drag me into this," she laughed.

"Wise move," Waverly laughed, as she finally settled down. She didn't move from Wynonna's lap though; nor did she remove her arms that were still draped affectionately around her sister's neck.

A few moments later, her persistence was rewarded by the sensation of Wynonna's arms wrapping around her, pulling her close, as she rested her head against Waverly's chest. "Thanks for the coffeemaker, Babygirl," she said, her tone soft and uncharacteristically vulnerable.

Lightly, Waverly pressed an affectionate kiss against the top of her sister's head. "You're welcome," she said tenderly. She squeezed Wynonna tight for a moment, and then released her, but left her arms draped loosely around her neck. "Now, what would you two like for breakfast?" she asked, meeting Wynonna's affectionate gaze. "Eggs? Pancakes? French toast?"

The entire scene warmed Nicole's heart. Their love for one another was palpable; she could feel it in her soul. And watching them, she decided right then and there that a nice, long chat with her own sisters was way overdue. Not that they didn't talk often enough—in fact, they talked multiple times, every day; but mostly about little things rather than the honest-to-goodness heart-to-hearts they'd shared growing up. Being so far away, she'd learned that she could miss them with a fierceness she hadn't known she possessed—until those lonely days in Afghanistan. And even now, no longer half a world away, but still far enough that she couldn't hold them, that fierce longing for them lingered in her still.

"Ooh!" Suddenly, Wynonna perked up, startling Waverly, and yanking Nicole from her reminiscences. "Do we have powdered sugar?"

Waverly eyed her curiously. "Yeah… I picked up kitchen staples at the store last night. Why?"

Wynonna's grin spread wide across her face, producing dimples that rivaled Nicole's. "Because I saw canned biscuits in the fridge," she said. "We can make homemade doughnuts!"

"Jesus Christ," Waverly muttered, rolling her eyes as she slid off of her sister's lap. "Can't you eat real food for once in your life?"

"Hey! Doughnuts are real," Wynonna insisted with a whine, as she rose from the chair, hot on Waverly's tail as she moved toward the refrigerator.

"You'd be better off eating corn chips," Waverly sighed.

"Probably," Wynonna agreed with a shrug. "But I already ate them all," she reported, hoping she looked remorseful enough, because she certainly didn't sound it.

"Seriously?" Waverly huffed. "Geez, Wynonna, that's the third bag this week."

"Well, if you'd cook for me once in a while…"

"Get a wife."

"I told you, I don't do chicks."

"Well, maybe you should," Waverly suggested, turning toward her sister. "I've heard the sex is spectacular. Better than morning coffee."

Nicole arched an eyebrow at that, as Wynonna's brow furrowed. "Where did you hear that?" Wynonna asked, her tone gruff with suspicion.

Waverly turned back toward the open refrigerator. "I have my sources…"

"Yeah, well, you'd better spill."

Leaning back in her chair, Nicole just chuckled to herself. There they go again…

---

Thirty minutes later, Deputy Marshal Dolls was knocking on the front door. Finally dressed in suitable attire for company, Wynonna let him in. Slowly, her eyes raked up and down his body, appreciating the black jeans that curved so perfectly to his ass, and the short-sleeved gray Henley that showed off his biceps. Damn, that man was fine.

"My apologies for being late," he said stoically, as he brushed past her, striding toward the kitchen. "I had to give report on our encounter with man in the mirror, and…"

He stopped in his tracks, clamming up immediately upon spotting Nicole sitting there. "Officer Haught," he greeted, his tone firm, rather than friendly. "I didn't see your patrol car outside."

"Good morning, Deputy Marshal," Nicole said with a warm smile that did nothing to dissuade his lack of one. It was almost like she was invisible. "I'm not working today, so…"

"Oh, you don't have to stop on account of Nicole being here, Marshal Dolls," Waverly chirped. "She's trustworthy. We can talk about the barb..."

"It's classified, Waverly," Dolls said sharply, cutting her comment off cold.

Nicole's face sank. Even Waverly knew what the hell had gone down the day prior with three dead bodies, a whole lot of broken mirrors, and seemingly no explanation in sight. She'd witnessed what appeared to be lightening, but sounded like breaking glass, and heard some screaming and weird, almost demonic voices, followed by a single gunshot coming from the Black Badge Division offices, and then Wynonna, Waverly, and Doc came running out the door, leaving the Deputy Marshal behind. Two hours later they'd come back, acting as if nothing had happened; once again leaving Nicole with more questions than answers. "It's okay, Waves," she said passively. "I get it."

And then glancing at Waverly, who was sitting next to her at the table, busily mixing up a bowl of pancake batter, she stood from her chair. "How about I help you with breakfast?" she offered. She needed something to do, before her annoyance got the better of her.

Waverly smiled up at her. "I'd love some help," she chirped. And then rising from her chair, she grabbed the bowl of batter with one hand, and snagged Nicole's index finger with her own, pulling her across the kitchen. "You can do the pancakes, while I finish the bacon." She paused, looking up at Nicole. "You do know how to make pancakes, don't you?"

Nicole chuckled. "Yes," she said. "I can make pancakes."

"Good," Waverly declared.

Intrigued, Dolls leaned back against the doorframe, crossing his arms as he watched their interactions—their heads so often close together, the soft giggles, like they were sharing their own little jokes without even using words, the light touches, most of them unnecessary, as they talked and laughed, all while throwing together what looked like it would be a delicious breakfast. Suddenly, he felt really hungry.

"Hey, what about my doughnuts?" Wynonna groused upon her return to the kitchen. She'd smelled bacon cooking, and as much as she liked bacon, she didn't like it in her doughnuts.

"Relax," Waverly said with the wave of a hand. "I've already got the oil warming in the deep fryer."

"Oh, thank god," Wynonna sighed as she sank back down into her chair. "Thought I was gonna have to go another day without them." She glared at Dolls. "Someone conveniently forgot to go by the doughnut shop yesterday," she added, accusingly.

Dolls just rolled his eyes, and walked away.

---

Saturday, April 23, 2016… The Earp Homestead—11:00 a.m. Mountain Daylight Time

After breakfast, Nicole went back out to her SUV, returning minutes later with a fully loaded tool belt strapped around her waist in place of her usual duty belt, a toolbox in her left hand, and a box full of miscellaneous plumbing and painting supplies tucked beneath her right arm. Depositing the toolbox on the living room floor just to the right of the front door, she set the supply box on top of it. She stooped down, and fishing through the contents, she found what she needed for the bathroom repair. And then with a few quick words to Waverly, she headed up the stairs to get to work, while Waverly tackled the baseboards, windowsills, and walls in the living room, dining room, and den with a bucket of hot, soapy water and a sponge.

Three hours later, the painted surfaces were clean and ready for a fresh coat of paint, and woodwork in all three rooms glistened in the sunlight that streamed through the windows that Wynonna had scrubbed clean, both inside and out, while Dolls worked outside, clearing debris from the grounds. He had amassed quite a pile of old junk, including two rusted-out bicycles, which he presumed belonged to the elder Earp girls, once upon a time. Meanwhile, Nicole had replaced the flushing mechanism in the toilet upstairs, installed a new showerhead in the main bathroom downstairs, and fitted the kitchen faucet with new washers to stop the constant drip. Now, Waverly was working on the walls in the kitchen—ridding them of years' worth of built-up grease and grime—while Nicole, having already removed all of the rusted out piping and replaced the sink baskets, was lying on the floor, buried up to her shoulders in the cabinet beneath the sink, checking the new fittings in preparation for replacing the original metal piping that had rusted and deteriorated over time.

Having determined on a cursory inspection of the plumbing setup the previous Sunday that a center outlet would work most efficiently for the drain, Nicole had already picked up the new PVC pipes and fittings she would need to complete the job. She chuckled softly to herself at the memory of Waverly's insistence upon tagging along—"You know, to pay the bill," she'd shrugged, that look of sheer innocence on her beautiful face. But they both knew it was just an excuse to spend more time with her, and Nicole certainly hadn't minded her company.

And so it was on Monday evening after Nicole finished her shift that she found herself perusing the aisles of the local hardware store, Waverly Earp in tow. Ever inquisitive, Waverly asked detailed questions about what Nicole was buying, and why. Patiently, Nicole explained to her about plumber's putty and sink baskets, and that PVC pipe was far more wear-resistant than metal piping, not to mention much cheaper to buy which, in her estimation, was a win-win for everyone but the pipe manufacturers.

When Waverly asked why she was buying two metal nuts when everything else was plastic, Nicole explained the importance of connecting plastic to plastic, and metal to metal; thus, since the sink baskets had metal threading, she needed metal or brass nuts to connect the tailpieces. The tutoring session went on to include things like the advantages of nylon washers versus rubber ones, water pressure and the compatibility of shower heads, and the ins-and-outs of flushing mechanisms, as well as a few other random topics.

Waverly made faces at all the technical jargon. She really hadn't a clue what Nicole was talking about; not until Nicole showed her the actual pieces. And then things started to make sense. She filed all of that information away in her head, under the title: Plumbing 101 as they checked out, and then announced that she wanted to take Nicole to dinner—"You know, for helping us out," she'd shrugged.

Unable to resist Waverly's charm for even an instant, Nicole readily agreed to dinner. Twenty minutes later they found themselves seated in a cozy corner booth in this quaint little Italian place just down the street, where they lingered over dinner, enjoyed a little too much wine, and talked until closing time. Every encounter with Waverly Earp was sweeter than the one before, and despite the warning bells that clanged loudly in her head, Nicole just couldn't get enough.

"How's it going down there?"

The sound of Waverly's voice drew Nicole from her reminiscences. Glancing toward it, she met soft green eyes, alight with that winsome smile, as Waverly stooped down beside her. "Not bad," she grinned.

"Awesome," Waverly declared. "Pizza should be here in about thirty minutes."

"You got someone to deliver all the way out here?"

"Yeah," Waverly shrugged. "Champ's bringing it from Shorty's."

Despite herself, Nicole's heart sank in her chest at the mention of his name, but she managed a sincere smile anyway. She had no right to be jealous. "That's really nice of him."

"That washed-up rodeo clown's gotta be good for somethin', right?" Wynonna declared sarcastically as she sauntered into the room, grabbing a cold beer and a bottle of water from the antiquated refrigerator.

"Wynonna—" Waverly sighed.

"What?" Wynonna smirked as if to say, Am I wrong?, as she bumped the fridge closed with her hip. Unstable, the refrigerator teetered, and then went still. She twisted the cap off of the beer, and tossed it into the wastebasket across the room, yelling "Score!" when it went straight in, and then tipped the bottle back, guzzling half it on her way back out of the room.

Waverly just rolled her eyes.

"Well, this'll be finished by then," Nicole announced. "And I can help you clean up from breakfast and lunch after we eat."

"You'll do nothing of the sort," Waverly announced in a tone that brooked no dispute.

Nicole produced that sexy dimpled grin. "What, you don't wanna do dishes with me?"

That grin was nearly Waverly's undoing, and as she sputtered, searching for a response that wouldn't sound completely inane, Nicole just laughed, returning her focus to the job at hand. She hooked the tailpieces to the sink baskets using nylon washers and the metal nuts, making sure they were hand-tight for the moment. Later, when everything was assembled, she would tighten them down with a pipe wrench, but for now, she just needed to get some quick estimates.

Then she measured and marked the pipes that connected to the tee, ensuring a snug fit. Next, she slipped the wall tube into the main drain, checking the J-bend to make sure it would line up properly with the center drain pipe, and finally, lining the extension tube up with the center pipe and the P-trap, she measured and marked the tube.

Satisfied that the pipe configuration was solidly planned, she crawled from beneath the sink, bringing the connector pipes along with her. "I'll be back in a few," she said to Waverly, who had returned to scrubbing down the kitchen walls in preparation for a coat of paint, maybe two.

"Need any help?" Waverly asked. Eager to follow Nicole just about anywhere, she dropped the sponge down into the bucket of hot soapy water without waiting for an answer.

Since the moment Nicole walked back into the kitchen, Waverly had been torn between attending to her task, and watching Nicole work. Her thick auburn hair was pulled back in that messy tuft again, but she'd taken her ball cap off upon entering the house, which made Waverly a little sad. And once again, Waverly couldn't help but notice how that pair of well-worn, low-slung jeans clung to Nicole's perfect ass—or how the midnight blue of her police academy t-shirt brought out the green and gold flecks in those beautiful russet eyes. Damn, she looked good in blue. She could stand there all day, just watching her move. But she'd never get the kitchen painted that way, she reluctantly reminded herself. And then she decided she just didn't care.

"No, I'm good," Nicole answered, offering Waverly that confident smile. She lifted the three sections of PVC pipe in her hand. "I just need to take these outside and cut 'em down to size. Thank you, though."

"No problem," Waverly replied with a grin. Biting her lower lip, she held Nicole's gaze a little longer than necessary before finally turning back to her task, too disappointed to watch her walk away.

Once again, there was a loud ruckus in the other room, followed by an argument that included references to circuit breakers and common sense, interspersed with several extremely vulgar obscenities. And then Wynonna came bursting through the doorway, just as Nicole was leaving. "What the hell is all of that?" she barked, gesturing toward Nicole's hand.

"New pipes for your kitchen sink," Nicole answered evenly. "Is everything okay in there?" she sounded concerned as she gestured toward the adjacent room.

Ignoring the question, Wynonna made a face at her. "If those are the new ones, shouldn't they be attached to something… over there?" she said, flailing her hands toward the open cabinet doors.

Nicole just shook her head. "Give me fifteen minutes, and they will be," she assured. "In twenty, you'll have a working sink again."

The deputy's unwavering confidence made Wynonna feel a bit… lacking. "Well, fuck, were you some kinda plumber in a past life?" she asked flippantly. "Where'd you learn how to do all this shit?"

"My uncle," Nicole shrugged. "I helped him out sometimes, back in high school."

Brow furrowed, Wynonna eyed Nicole curiously for a moment. "Oh—" was all she said, and then stepped right past her without another word.

Catching Nicole's gaze, Waverly rolled her eyes and shrugged, as if to say, I can't explain her either, and Nicole silently chuckled in response. "I'll be back," she said, and then quickly exited the room, pipes in hand.

"So, what, are you having an issue with the…"

"Dolls is a dingus," Wynonna declared, cutting Waverly's question completely off. Irritated, she flopped down onto a kitchen chair, sulking.

"Well, what did he do?" Waverly asked, wiping her hands on a towel, as she moved toward her sister.

"Don't listen to her," Dolls said, practically stumbling into the kitchen. Leaning against the doorframe for support, he looked a little dazed to Waverly, as he glanced at Wynonna. "I told you this was a bad idea," he reminded, referencing their conversation where she'd insisted that he come help because he was the one who told her to start making it a home. "I don't know anything about electrical work."

"You're a man, for Christ's sake," Wynonna practically accused. "Aren't you supposed to know how to do shit?"

Planting her hands on her hips, Waverly gave her a look. "That was really sexist, Wynonna," she chided.

Wynonna just made a face at her, as if to say, Who gives a shit?

Waverly simply sighed in response.

"I'm a Deputy Marshal, not an electrician," Dolls reminded, clearly baffled by her lack of understanding. Glancing at Waverly, he explained, "She had me up on a ladder, trying to repair the light fixture in the dining room, and I got shocked. Knocked me right on my ass."

"Well, I didn't know you had to turn off the circuit breaker," Wynonna said, crossing her arms defensively. She glanced at Waverly. "The light switch was off, so I thought he'd be fine."

"Oh, god," Waverly mumbled, rolling her eyes. "Are you all right, Marshal Dolls?"

"I'm fine," Dolls said, sounding annoyed. "But I'm not touching that damned thing again."

"Ugh… You're useless to me," Wynonna sighed, turning away from him.

"Just… don't worry about the fixture," Waverly said nonchalantly. "Nicole can take a look at it when she's finished with the sink."

"What the fuck, is she some kind of Mr. Fix-it?" Wynonna barked.

"Miss Fix-it, actually," Waverly corrected. "Her family's in construction. Dad's a general contractor, and she's got uncles and cousins who do electrical work, roofing, siding, painting, flooring… and plumbing, obviously," she added, gesturing toward the sink. Having mentioned during their hike the need to hire a plumber to fix a few things around the homestead, Nicole offered to do the work for her, sharing about the family business, and the skillset she'd acquired from working with them.

Wynonna made a face at her. "What, do you know her whole life story?"

Waverly shrugged. "Practically."

Remaining silent, Dolls took in yet another interesting piece of information regarding the connection between Waverly Earp and Officer Haught, storing it away for future reference. The two of them were quite an intriguing pair.

"Well, shit," Wynonna said, not certain whether she was more impressed… or threatened. "Maybe we can just hire her to fix the whole fuckin' place."

"Yeah, I don't think she wants to be our personal handywoman," Waverly said. Though, she does look really hot in that tool belt, she thought, suppressing a grin. "She already has a fulltime job."

"Cute," Wynonna smirked. And then she looked back at Dolls, who was still standing in the doorway. "What do you know how to do?"

"I can paint," Dolls answered. "There's no electrical current involved in that," he muttered.

"Great," Wynonna declared. Slapping her hands on her knees, she rose from her seat. "We'll do that." She glanced at Waverly then. "They ready to go?" she asked, motioning toward the rooms where Waverly had started that morning.

"Yeah," Waverly confirmed. "Brushes, rollers, paint trays, everything you need should in the bags and box near the fireplace." What they couldn't borrow from Gus, they'd just gone ahead and bought while at the hardware store on Monday.

"I'd better not find any shade of pink, whatsoever, in any of those paint cans," Wynonna warned, as she brushed past Dolls, snagging the neck of his shirt with her finger. "You could've asked first, before you touched that wire, y'know," she said to him, as she dragged him away.

"Hey, make sure you use the tarps to protect the floors," Waverly called out to her.

Wynonna popped her head back into the kitchen. "Have you seen our floors?" she asked, scrunching up her face. "What harm could we possibly do to 'em? They already look like crap."

Waverly waived a dismissive hand. "They're solid black walnut. Nicole said all we have to do is sand them down, and seal them. They'll look fabulous and last forever."

A mischievous grin percolated on Wynonna's lips. "One of us should marry that girl."

"I thought you didn't do chicks," Waverly said, challenge in her tone.

Raising her eyebrows, Wynonna shrugged. "Guess that leaves you."

"Yeah, well, you should probably ask her opinion on that before you go picking out china patterns," Waverly joked, an attempt at alleviating the thunderous pounding of her heart at the mere thought of marrying Nicole Haught.

"Oh, I will," Wynonna assured, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "During lunch."

"Don't you dare!" Waverly gasped, mortified by the very idea. "Champ'll have a shitfit. He's already pissy about all the time I've been spending with her."

Wynonna's laugh was almost devilish as she sauntered away.

---

When Nicole returned a few minutes later, she pitched a thumb toward the den where she'd found Wynonna and Dolls bickering over proper painting techniques. "Are you sure it's a good idea to leave those two alone with a five gallon bucket of paint?" she asked humorously. "I'm afraid they might try to drown one another in it."

"Nah, Dolls is pretty even-keeled," Waverly noted, dipping the sponge into a fresh bucket of hot, soapy water, and quickly wringing out some of the excess. She'd dumped the old water out over the side of the back porch not long after Nicole stepped outside. "He'll only take so much of her shit, and then he walks away."

"That's true enough," Nicole agreed, as she crawled back underneath the sink. "I've seen him take a few walks here and there." It was usually after she'd heard a string of choice curse words out of Wynonna. The woman wasn't exactly discreet.

"Well, at least she's not cussing at him again," Waverly shrugged. "So maybe he'll stick around today."

"That'd be cool," Nicole said offhandedly, as she hooked the center lines to the tee, and fastened them to the tailpieces on both sides of the sink, tightening them with her hand. Dolls could be a real dick sometimes, but she understood duty and the need to keep classified information under wraps, so she gave him a pass—for the most part.

They worked in silence for a few minutes then, as Nicole finished connecting the extension pipe, and then the P-trap to complete the drainage track. And then she reached for her pipe wrench, tightening down all of the connections. Once everything was snug, she reached behind her head, turning on the water main, and then, she called out to Waverly, "Hey, Waves, would you come turn on the faucet for me?"

"Sure thing," Waverly said. She dropped the sponge into the water, and grabbed a towel from the countertop, wiping her hands as she moved across the room. Stepping over Nicole with her left leg, her feet basically straddled Nicole's hips as she stood above her, and pushed the faucet handle up to start the stream of water.

Nicole listened to the sound of the water draining as she watched for signs of leakage at any of the connections, while trying hard not to get distracted by Waverly's beautifully toned, and extremely bare legs. She was wearing a pair of those sexy cutoffs she always wore at Shorty's, and needless to say, they looked mighty fine on her.

"Everything look okay?" Waverly asked after a minute passed, and Nicole had said nothing.

"So far, so good," Nicole answered, sounding pleased. Her head wasn't wet, so she assumed there were no leaks. Glancing up, she checked, just to be certain. "Would you mind moving the faucet over to the other sink for me, please?"

Waverly complied, and Nicole thanked her. "Hey, what was all that commotion about earlier?" Nicole asked, by way of distracting herself from being hypnotized by Waverly's shapely legs again.

"Oh, Wynonna had Dolls up on a ladder, trying to repair the light fixture in the dining room, and she didn't cut the circuit breaker off," Waverly reported.

"Oh, my god, is he okay?" Nicole sat upright so fast she cracked her forehead on the cabinet ridge above her. "Shit!" she exclaimed, instinctively grabbing her head.

"Whoa, Nicole, are you okay?" Waverly dropped down the moment she heard the impact, and by the time she'd finished asking, she was basically sitting astride Nicole's lap.

"Yeah, I'm all right," Nicole said reflexively. She felt a bit dizzy, but otherwise, fine.

Reaching up, Waverly cradled Nicole's face in her hands. "Hold still," she said quietly. "Let me get a look at this."

Nicole started to protest, but Waverly silenced her with a look. She acquiesced then, remaining still while Waverly inspected her wound. Thankfully, the skin wasn't broken, so there was no blood, but she watched what she was certain would be a very painful contusion forming on her forehead. "Well, you're getting a nasty bump, but you're not bleeding, so that's good," she reported. "You're gonna have one hell of a headache outta this, though."

Laughing, Nicole said, "I'm certain I've had worse."

She looked up then, meeting Waverly's probing gaze. Those familiar green eyes were intense with worry, and yet they softened so instinctively when they fell into Nicole's trusting gaze. The world went silent around them, but for the water that still ran in the sink. Suddenly, it sounded like the babbling creek in the mountains, as they were transported back there, if only for a moment.

Waverly's next awareness was the sensation of Nicole's hands at her waist. A small gasp slipped from her lips at the contact, and then she smiled into those hazy russet eyes, her thumbs lightly brushing Nicole's cheeks. "I'm glad you're okay," she said softly.

Nicole grinned. "Of course I'm okay," she quietly assured. And then she tilted her head, and her tone dropped a full register, "I am a Marine, after all."

A soft laugh fell from Waverly's lips; her eyes alight with absolute adoration. "You're the most beautiful Marine I've ever seen," she said, her fingertips feathering over Nicole's cheek and then down under her chin. "Even with this big ole' bump on your head."

Nicole blushed, and bit her lower lip adorably.

"What the fuck is this shit?" Champ snarled, walking in on the two of them still gazing into one another's eyes. He slammed the pizza boxes down on the table, and just stood there, staring them down. If he hadn't known any better, he would've sworn they were seconds away from ripping each other's clothes off. But he knew Waverly. And she liked dick. There was no way she'd go for a chick.

But then… why did he feel so threatened?

Startled from their reverie, they both jumped. But neither of them made a move to separate from the other. Waverly just glared back at him. "Nicole bumped her head on the cabinet," she said. "I was just checking her wound."

Standing just behind Champ, Doc assessed the situation with a keen eye. Interesting, he thought, but he said nothing. It simply wasn't his place. Out of deference for their privacy, he turned and walked into the adjacent room.

"And you have to sit in her lap to do that?" Champ snapped.

"No—," Waverly answered sharply. "But I'll sit wherever I damned well please." Slowly rising, she offered Nicole a hand, helping her up. "You okay?" she asked, making sure she was all right to stand.

"Just a little dizzy," Nicole answered. "But I'll be all right."

"Nonsense," Waverly said, gently taking Nicole's arm. "Come, sit," she instructed, leading her toward a kitchen chair.

"There's no need to fuss, Waves," Nicole insisted. She felt a little embarrassed with Champ standing there staring at her. "I really am okay."

"I'm not fussing; I'm taking care of you," Waverly insisted, her fingertips lightly grazing Nicole's cheek. "Now, we need to get some ice on that before it gets any worse," she declared. Turning off the faucet, she moved toward the refrigerator. She'd already grabbed a Ziploc bag and a clean dish towel from the drawer.

Champ just stood there, staring at her in disbelief as she filled the bag with ice, sealed it, and wrapped it in the towel. "Jesus, Waverly, she said she's okay," he finally snapped, as Waverly gently pressed the cold pack against the bump on Nicole's head.

A slight wince passed through Nicole's lips upon contact, and Waverly checked in just to make sure she was okay. And then, glancing up at him, her face held an expression of incredulity. She couldn't believe he was being such a jackass. "I remember doing the same for you," she reminded. "Many times, actually, when your sorry ass got thrown off a bull."

"Exactly," Champ said harshly. "Because you're my girlfriend." He emphasized the nature of their relationship.

"No, Champ, because I'm a caring human being," Waverly retorted. And then she turned her attention back to Nicole, gently caressing her shoulder. "Does this feel too cold, Sweetie?"

"Jesus Christ, Waverly. This is such bullshit," Champ swore, smacking his ball cap against his thigh. "I'm outta here. You're welcome for the pizza, by the way," he said, as he stormed out the kitchen door, slamming it behind him.

"What's his problem?" Wynonna asked caustically, as she stepped back into the kitchen just as Champ slammed the door. The expression on her face said she couldn't have cared less, which didn't surprise Waverly in the least.

Nicole glanced up at Waverly, who was still holding the ice compress against Nicole's forehead. "Don't you think you should go after him?"

Waverly shook her head. "He's a big boy," she said. "He needs to just get over himself."

It wouldn't have mattered if she'd gone after him anyway, because a few seconds later they heard Champ's truck peeling out of the driveway. Waverly simply rolled her eyes. For a grown man, he certainly acted a lot like a five-year-old.

Truth told, it wasn't just his attitude toward Nicole and their burgeoning friendship. She was still royally pissed at him for that whole scene with Wynonna the day the prodigal Earp sister returned to town. Wynonna knew she wasn't going to sleep with him, but he didn't know that, and he eagerly brought her up to Waverly's room, with that very intention. And then, after being caught practically red-handed trying to fuck her sister, he'd had the audacity to think Waverly would have sex with him that same night! Well, that sure as hell didn't happen—and it hadn't happened even once since then. She'd told him, in no uncertain terms, to get well-acquainted with his right hand, because that was the only date he'd be having for quite some time. And she'd meant every word.

"What happened to you?" Wynonna asked, spying the cold compress against Nicole's head.

"I had a little run-in with the cabinet," Nicole said drolly.

"It was my fault," Waverly admitted. "She had her head under the sink when I told her about your bonehead move with Dolls."

"What bonehead move?"

An eyebrow arched. "The circuit breaker," Waverly reminded.

"Oh, please, that was so twenty minutes ago," Wynonna said on a dismissive snort. "He's fine." And then her eyes lit up, dancing with mischief once again. "Hmm… I see you're working on that marriage proposal."

"Wynonna—," Waverly muttered warningly.

Nicole's brow furrowed, and then she winced at the pain. "What marriage proposal?" she asked, confused.

"Never mind, pay no attention to her," Waverly responded, casting a glare toward Wynonna that dared her to say more.

"What is this, Dismiss Wynonna Day?" Wynonna huffed. "I'm feeling really… unappreciated today."

"That's better than being completely ignored," Waverly offered unhelpfully.

"Thanks," Wynonna said wryly.

"We should probably eat before the pizza gets cold," Waverly declared. "Can you manage this, Nicole?" she asked, referring to the ice pack.

Nicole simply raised an eyebrow, causing Waverly to chuckle. "Of course you can," she said. And then her voice dropped an octave, "You are a Marine, after all."

"And don't you forget it," Nicole winked playfully as she took over for Waverly.

"Wynonna, would you get Doc and Dolls, while I get plates and drinks?" Waverly requested.

"Doc! Dolls!" Wynonna bellowed, not moving from her spot. "Chow time!"

Waverly rolled her eyes. "Thanks," she said dryly.

"Well, we don't have one of those triangle thingies to clang," Wynonna said with a satisfied smirk.

Nicole just laughed. The two of them really were comical.

The guys returned to the kitchen shortly thereafter, and they settled in to eat, discussing the game plan for the afternoon. Since Champ was gone, and thus, so was his truck, Dolls offered to take Wynonna over to Gus's to borrow her pickup. He and Doc would take care of the furniture and debris that needed to be hauled off. And Nicole, who had to insist several times that she really was fine, was finally granted permission by a hovering Waverly to look into the issues with the flickering light fixture in the dining room—with the promise that Waverly wouldn't stand there beneath the ladder the entire time.

Though entirely unnecessary, Nicole couldn't help but be touched by Waverly's protectiveness—any more than Doc and Dolls could help being so curious about it. And Wynonna, well… she remained completely oblivious to the growing attraction between her baby sister, and Purgatory's newest rookie officer, and that was just fine by Waverly and Nicole.

---

Saturday, April 23, 2016… The Earp Homestead—7:30 p.m. Mountain Daylight Time

It was a little after seven in the evening when the group finally declared they had accomplished all they could for one day. The house, barn, and yard were free of any remaining debris thanks to Doc and Dolls, with a little help from Wynonna, and most of the downstairs painting was finished, Waverly having pitched in with Wynonna and the guys on that. And as for Nicole, after she finished repairing the dining room light fixture, she'd checked the fixtures in the other rooms, ensuring they didn't pose any fire hazards, and then she turned her attention to the dilapidated furniture. Some of it definitely needed to go, but there was a decent amount of it that could be salvaged with just a little bit of work, and so she'd set her sights on reclaiming what she could—it was far cheaper to repair than to replace, she'd reasoned. And in the end, most of it turned out to be fairly solid. Obviously, there was still work to be done, but all said, they were satisfied with the progress.

After the guys left, Wynonna grabbed a cold beer, and wandered into her room, leaving Waverly and Nicole alone in the living room. She wasn't being antisocial; she'd had enough of people for one day, and needed a little time to recharge.

Stooping down in front of the woodstove, Nicole stoked the fire that had been allowed to dwindle down throughout the day, adding a few new logs to ensure enough heat for the evening. And then she settled into one corner of the old sofa she'd uncovered earlier that afternoon, her elbow resting on the arm, a cold bottle of beer—her first for the day—dangling from her fingers. Waverly hadn't wanted her to leave—and though Nicole thought better of it, she had to admit, she wanted to stay. And so, despite the warnings that clanged in her head, she did exactly that. She imagined that she always would.

"You sure that thing's safe to sit on?" Waverly asked warily, when she entered the room a few minutes later, a bowl of fresh popcorn in one hand, and a cold beer in the other. "There aren't any critters or anything in it?"

Nicole laughed, and motioned for Waverly to join her. "Completely critter free, I promise," she assured. "I tore it apart and steam cleaned the entire thing."

"You brought a steam cleaner with you?" Waverly practically exclaimed. Who thinks about these things?

"Well, yeah," Nicole shrugged. "You can't expect to deep-clean a house without one," she reasoned out loud. "And speaking of, the curtains and drapes could use the once-over with it too."

"I guess you're right," Waverly agreed, a look of amazement on her face. Dropping down on the sofa next to Nicole, she reached across Nicole's body, setting her bottle of beer on the table to their left, and then she set the bowl of popcorn squarely in Nicole's lap.

"The armchairs are solid too. I cleaned them up, and now they just need a little upholstery work—a few tears to be patched," Nicole reported, still recovering from having Waverly pressed so closely against her chest while she stretched across to the side table. "I can take care of it for you. Just need to find my repair kit. I still have a few boxes that aren't unpacked from the move up here."

Waverly's expression was one of sheer awe. "Is there anything you don't know how to do?"

Nicole looked at Waverly, her expression serious. "I can't crochet to save my life," she said, sounding deeply disappointed.

"Do you have some sort of burning passion for crocheting?" Waverly teased.

"No, not really," Nicole laughed. She took a swig of her beer, and glanced around the room. "The place really does look great."

"Yeah, it's amazing what a coat of paint and a few well-placed pictures will do, isn't it?" Waverly agreed.

"It's more than just that," Nicole said. "You guys really kicked ass today."

"Us?!" Waverly exclaimed. "What about you? Oh, my god, you did so much for us today. I don't even know how to thank you."

"You've already thanked me enough," Nicole said humbly.

"Well, what if I wanna thank you again?" Waverly playfully challenged.

"Save it until I replace the faucets and sink drains in the bathrooms," Nicole said offhandedly. "They're holding for now, but I wouldn't let it go too long. There's just no reason to chance water damage, when it's such a simple fix."

"Maybe you could show me how," Waverly said with a tentative shrug. She loved watching Nicole work.

"Absolutely," Nicole replied, popping a few kernels of popcorn into her mouth. "It's pretty straightforward. The hardest part is usually getting the old pipes out."

"Why's that?" Waverly scrunched up her nose.

"Sometimes the connections are corroded, or the pipes fall apart," Nicole answered. "Depends on how bad they are."

"That makes sense," Waverly nodded. "Next week okay?"

"Sure thing," Nicole said. "I have Monday off, if that works for your planner."

The teasing lilt in Nicole's tone made Waverly shake her head. "You're never gonna let me live that down, are you?"

Nicole laughed. "Probably not."

"It's perfect, actually," Waverly said. "I never work on Mondays."

"I know," Nicole smirked.

Waverly's eyes lit up as she smiled. "Did you switch your day off to match my schedule?"

"I plead the fifth," Nicole grinned, taking another swig of her beer.

"You did, didn't you?" Waverly said, flirtingly.

Nicole laughed. "Wish I could say I was that clever," she admitted. "But I'm not. Nedley needs me to work next Saturday, so he gave me Monday off instead."

"It sucks working on Saturdays," Waverly pouted.

"Well, we have this one off," Nicole said, making the best of things.

"Yeah, but I made you work here all day," Waverly pointed out.

"Hey, you didn't make me do anything I didn't want to do," Nicole assured.

Waverly turned toward her. "The least I can do is make tonight fun for you. Did you wanna go do something? Go out somewhere?"

"Nah, I'm good right here," Nicole said honestly. "I'm mostly a homebody."

"Really?" Waverly grinned. "Me too, actually."

"You are?" Nicole sounded skeptical. Why on earth would a vivacious young woman like Waverly Earp want to stay in on the one Saturday night she'd had off in months?

"Yeah, the bar, the whole club scene, those are more Wynonna's things," Waverly said.

"And yet… she went to bed at seven-thirty on a Saturday night," Nicole noted. "She okay?"

"She'll be fine," Waverly assured. "I think it's just really hard on her, being here, fixing up the place. It's stirring up a lot of memories for her, both good and bad."

"What about you?" Nicole asked gently.

"I don't think it's as hard for me," Waverly answered honestly. "I was really little, and… I don't remember as much. I mean, I remember the night that daddy died—the night Willa was taken. I remember screaming and yelling for them, and my whole body shaking. It was terrifying, and I… I don't think I'll ever forget it," she shared, her voice quavering almost as though she were reliving it. She swallowed hard, and continued, "But Wynonna, she remembers when we used to be a family, when this was a home—before mama left, and daddy and Willa…"

Setting her beer on the table next to Waverly's Nicole reached over, giving Waverly's hand a comforting squeeze. "I noticed you didn't paint over the height markings on the doorframe in the den," she said observantly.

"Yeah," Waverly exhaled, keeping hold of Nicole's hand. She remembered the sense of nostalgia in Wynonna's voice when she'd found those markings the day they returned to the homestead. It was clear how much she missed Willa, and the closeness they'd once shared. "She couldn't bear to cover them up. She and Willa were always really close. I was just…" A sharp biting laugh slipped from her lips, "the bratty little sister that Willa loved to pick on."

"It's tough being the youngest, huh?" Nicole empathized. "Especially when your sisters were so much older?"

Purposely shoving the painful truth of Nicole's observance aside, Waverly grinned at her. "How would you know?" she chuckled, giving Nicole's shoulder a playful nudge with her own. "You're the oldest!"

"Yeah," Nicole confirmed with a nod. "But I pay attention."

"Tell me more about your sisters," Waverly requested; a means of diverting further talk of her past. Nicole had mentioned them in passing on a few occasions, but never really went into detail. They always had so many other things to talk about. "How old are they? Where are they? What do they do?"

Nicole smiled at the thought of them. "Well, Kyler's not quite a year younger than me," she reported. "We were so close in age it was almost like having a twin—except that we look nothing alike."

"So she's what, twenty-five?" Waverly calculated.

"Yeah," Nicole nodded. "She's an attorney for my dad's company back in Dallas. Smart and determined, she finished college in three years, went straight into law school, and finished that in two-and-a-half."

"Impressive," Waverly remarked. Overachievement seemed to run in their family.

"She really is," Nicole affirmed. And then she grinned. "I think part of her drive comes from wanting to prove herself to me, and to my parents and grandparents. Being so close in age, it was tough for her to see me excel at things, while she struggled to catch up. Now that we're adults, she can really shine. And she does."

"Is that hard for you?" Waverly asked.

"Not at all," Nicole said without hesitation. "I'm really proud of her, and I love seeing her succeed. Then again, I was never the one in competition. I was just being me."

"I really admire how you have such a solid sense of yourself, Nicole," Waverly admitted.

"Thank you," Nicole said, her face flushing just slightly. That was one of the nicest things anyone could ever say to her. "I think part of it comes from being the oldest, and the rest from granny's influence. She never backed down from her convictions, and never took crap from anyone, including gramps," she laughed. "The poor guy never knew what hit him most days."

Waverly laughed along with her. "They sound like an amazing couple."

"They were," Nicole affirmed. "They'd been married for sixty-five years when gramps died."

"Wow, they must've married young," Waverly presumed.

"By today's standards, yeah," Nicole noted with a short laugh. "They were barely fifteen."

"Oh, Jesus, I can't even imagine," Waverly commented.

"Neither can I," Nicole readily agreed. "It's amazing how societal expectations have changed throughout the generations. Now people think you're crazy if you even consider settling down with someone you met in high school, sometimes, even college."

"And… do you know this from personal experience?" Waverly inquired drolly.

"Me?" Nicole snorted. "Hardly."

"Just never meet anyone who fit?" Waverly asked.

"I wasn't really looking," Nicole said honestly. "Other than one very misguided attempt to prove myself straight, I didn't really date much in high school."

"Ah, the boy-man?" Waverly presumed.

"Yeah," Nicole laughed, recalling her first conversation with Waverly. "It really was the worst," she intoned. "He was a nice guy, but I… was more interested in his sister."

Waverly laughed. "Did you do anything about it?" she asked. Digging into the bowl of popcorn again—they'd both been indulging throughout the conversation—she dropped a few pieces into her mouth.

"Oh, yeah," Nicole admitted on a sarcastic chortle. "Senior year. That's basically how my family found out I was gay."

"Oh, my god, what happened?" Now Waverly was intrigued.

"Kyler walked in on us, making out in the locker room after a basketball game," Nicole answered.

Brow furrowed, Waverly looked perplexed. "What, she's not cool with you being gay?" From everything Nicole had said, that just didn't sound right.

"Oh, no, that definitely wasn't the problem," Nicole laughed. "Seems I wasn't the only Haught girl Kendalyn Carrington was makin' out with that season."

"No!" Waverly exclaimed, her eyes widening in surprise. "Kyler?"

"Yep," Nicole confirmed with a cackle. "She was so pissed at me, she went straight to our parents, and ended up outing both of us in the process."

Knowing that Nicole's parents didn't have a problem with Nicole being gay, Waverly laughed at the story. "That's actually kinda hilarious," she commented.

"Well, in retrospect, it is," Nicole agreed. "But in the moment, I was on Kyler's shit list—and if you ever meet my sister, you'll know that's not a comfortable place to be," she laughed. "There's a reason she makes a good attorney."

Waverly chuckled at the comment. She could well imagine.

"Anyway," Nicole continued, "I, of course, had no idea she was messing around with Kendalyn, but Kyler didn't stop to consider that. To her, it was just another instance where I was trying to one-up her. It took a lot of convincing on my part for her to realize it had nothing to do with her."

"She sounds like a handful," Waverly commented.

"And then some," Nicole said dryly.

"So what about your other sisters?" Waverly arched an eyebrow. "Are they gay too?" she asked teasingly.

"Not that I'm aware of," Nicole grinned.

"Maybe you should check with Kendalyn," Waverly said wittily.

A hearty laugh fell from Nicole's lips. "Oh, there's no need of that," she said. "She and Kyler are actually getting married this summer."

"Seriously?" Waverly sounded surprised, though oddly enough, pleasantly so. She didn't really know why she cared, except maybe that it was kind of a sweet story.

"Yeah," Nicole confirmed with a grin. "Hence, my comment about people thinking you're crazy for settling down with someone you met in high school. Folks have been giving them shit for years, but they've stuck it out, through good times and bad."

"Sounds like you're really proud of them," Waverly surmised.

"I am," Nicole said with conviction. "And I'm looking forward to standing up for Kyler at their wedding."

"Aw… you're her Maid of Honor?" Waverly practically swooned.

"Yep," Nicole confirmed with a nod. "And she'll be mine… someday."

"That's so sweet," Waverly sighed, giving Nicole the most adorable smile. "And wow, you seriously have the best stories, she added.

"You haven't even heard the best of 'em… yet," Nicole laughed.

Nicole's easy laugh warmed Waverly's heart. "I can hardly wait," she said eagerly. "Tell me about your other sisters."

"Okay, well, Trinity is next. She's twenty-two," Nicole reported. "She's about to graduate from MIT with a degree in architecture. She'll go to work for the family business too, I'm sure. It's kinda what's expected."

"You didn't," Waverly pointed out.

Nicole laughed. "And believe me, I'm still hearing about it."

Waverly's brow furrowed. "From your dad?" she inquired, curious.

"No, my dad's really cool. He's totally supportive of my career choice," Nicole answered. "My grandfather, not so much. It's not that he's a bad guy, he just has… expectations. Anyone who doesn't meet them ends up on the shit list. And since he technically controls all the money, everyone does what he wants. Except for me, of course, 'cause… that's how I roll," she laughed.

Laughing with her, Waverly teased, "So you're the rebel in the family, huh?"

"Yeah, the rebel with military experience and a badge," Nicole said dryly. "I'm certainly a wild one, aren't I?"

Waverly laughed at the irony. "Is that why you took the military route to pay for college?"

"Yep," Nicole confirmed. "Grandfather cut off my college fund when I told him I wanted to be a cop and not a corporate sellout. That's partly how I ended up here, actually. I just… I had to get away from the rat-race, and all the family bullshit."

"Wow… that's harsh."

Nicole just laughed. "That's my grandfather," she commented wryly. "Anyway, it wasn't that big a deal." Her parents had offered to help, but it didn't feel right to her, letting her dad go against his father. She knew if her grandfather ever found out, her entire family would suffer for it. And she just couldn't do that to them. Waverly didn't need to know all of that though. It felt too much like bragging, or begging points for nothing more than looking out for her family. So she just left it with a simple truth: "I like that I worked for what I have. I wouldn't trade the experiences I've had for anything."

The level of respect Waverly felt for Nicole increased tenfold within the span of that one statement. "You don't regret any of your choices?"

Glancing toward Waverly, Nicole met her gaze. "They led me here," she said, with a simple shrug of her shoulders. "How could I ever regret that?"

The tender sincerity in Nicole's voice was nearly Waverly's undoing, as she lingered there, drowning in those soft russet eyes. Instinctively, she knew that Nicole didn't just mean Purgatory—she meant there, in that moment, the two of them together. Suddenly, feeling extremely nervous, she began to fidget—and that's when she realized she was still holding Nicole's hand.

Before Waverly could pull away, Nicole gently covered that trembling hand with her own. "Hey…" she said softly. "I'm really sorry, Waves. I didn't mean to make things weird. Maybe I, uh… Maybe I should just go."

When she started to pull away, Waverly held firmly to her hand. "No—," she said quietly. "I don't want you to go, Nicole."

"Okay…" Drawing out the word, Nicole watched her intently.

Taking a deep breath, Waverly chewed her lower lip for a moment, contemplating her words. "You, uh… you're not the one I'm worried about," she finally said, avoiding Nicole's resolute gaze.

"What do you mean?" Nicole asked, confused.

Waverly struggled for a moment, trying to decide what to say. Telling the whole truth meant putting it all out there. And that meant she'd have to deal with it. She just wasn't ready for all of that. Not yet. So instead, she took the road of half-truths, admitting only what she could manage in the moment. "You didn't make anything weird. All you did was speak the truth as you see it," she finally said. She furrowed her brow, searching for a way to make the rattling in her own head make sense. "You know how you told me that you're the one who's responsible for your feelings for me?"

"Well, yeah," Nicole said without hesitation. "It's not up to you to deal with my crap. That's entirely my responsibility."

"And how do you deal with it when we're together?" Waverly asked, her eyes searching Nicole's.

"I just do," Nicole shrugged.

"Is it… difficult for you?" Waverly asked.

"Sometimes," Nicole answered honestly. "But it's worth it to me, if it means I get to be with you."

"Exactly," Waverly exhaled, thankful to Nicole for making her point for her. "I'm the one who made things weird, by letting my thoughts get the best of me," she explained, taking full responsibility. "And it's not up to you to deal with my crap either. And when things get weird again—because they will—I'll get fidgety and nervous again, because that's what I do," she admitted. "I'll deal with my crap, just like you deal with yours. And there will never, ever be a time when I want you to leave. Because… at the end of the day, I'll take a little weirdness, if it means I get to be with you."

A soft laugh slipped from Nicole's lips, and she smiled. "Okay, I get it," she said. "I'll stop trying to fix things."

"Well, you can still fix our bathrooms, right?" Waverly asked teasingly.

Nicole laughed. "Yes. Yes, I can," she said. "I'll be here first thing Monday morning, and I'll teach you all about pipe replacement. How's that?"

"Sounds perfect," Waverly said, that winsome smile returning to her beautiful face. "Now… tell me all about Hayley," she requested, the awkwardness fading, as she settled back in next to Nicole. She still hadn't let go of her hand. Nicole had mentioned her little sister Hayley on several occasions, and even had a picture of the two of them on her desk at work. "She's the youngest, right?"

"She's my Babygirl," Nicole reported with an affectionate smile. "She's seventeen—funny, charming, vivacious, stubborn as hell," she laughed.

"Hmm… She kinda sounds like you," Waverly commented with a teasing grin.

"What?" Nicole said, feigning incredulity. "I'm not stubborn!"

Waverly arched an eyebrow over that. "Um, whoever had a head injury this morning, and refused to take it easy the rest of the day, please raise your hand," she said drolly.

"My head is fine, Waves," Nicole said dismissively.

"See what I mean?" Waverly intoned.

Nicole just rolled her eyes and laughed. "Seriously," she said. "I don't even have a headache anymore."

Waverly opened her mouth to protest, but Nicole held up a finger, indicating for her to hold on. Then, pressing back into the sofa, she reached into the front pocket of her jeans, pulling out her phone—a means of distraction. "Here… I've got tons of family pictures."

"Ooh, pictures!" Waverly exclaimed, effectively deterred from her fussing. She leaned in, her body flush up against Nicole's as she peered down at the phone. The warmth that was generated between them was enough to set them alight, but neither made a move to separate.

Maneuvering to the folder marked "Family" with practiced ease, Nicole slowly took her on a journey through time, pointing out each of her sisters, her mom and dad, a few cousins, her grandparents on both sides, and even a few photos of her granny and gramps that she'd scanned and uploaded to her phone.

"Your family is beautiful," Waverly complimented as Nicole scrolled back through a few of her favorites.

"Thank you," Nicole said sincerely.

"Weird, how you don't look anything like your sisters," Waverly commented, not realizing how that would sound on the heels of her previous comment. "Oh, god, I didn't mean that the way it came out," she quickly backtracked. "I meant…"

Frustrated, she sighed, and before she could think better of it, her mouth was moving again. "You are so damn beautiful, it makes my heart hurt, Nicole."

Delivered on a breathless whisper, the sincerity in Waverly's confession took Nicole's breath away. She struggled with how to respond, even as Waverly began to fidget nervously again.

"Jesus, I need a freakin' speedbump between my brain and my mouth," Waverly muttered under her breath.

Once the babbling began, Nicole quickly gathered her wits about her. "Hey…" she whispered, her fingertips feathering across Waverly's cheek. Her touch calmed Waverly immediately. "It's okay, Waves," she smiled. "I knew what you meant—the hair, the eye color, even our height differences…"

"Exactly," Waverly said sheepishly, as she recalled how Kyler and Trinity both had thick manes of dark, almost jet-black curly hair like their father, while Hayley's hair was a wavy ash-blonde like their mother's, and all of them had striking blue eyes.

"The family joke is that if it weren't for me being granny's doppelganger, they'd all swear I was switched at birth," Nicole said, with levity in her tone. And then, gently, she tipped Waverly's chin, meeting her gaze. "And thank you, for the compliment," she said softly. "I think you're beautiful too."

Waverly felt her entire body flush with heat, but surprisingly, she didn't start to fidget again. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Now," Nicole said with quiet conviction. She knew she needed to put them back on safer ground. "Why don't you sit back here, and allow me to regale you with crazy stories about my teenaged antics, and the supreme idiocy of my siblings," she suggested.

Laughing, Waverly relaxed then, thinking that was a fabulous idea. Willingly, she leaned back against Nicole's side, settling in for what were certain to be stories that would make her laugh so hard she'd cry. And that would probably only serve to make her laugh again, because that's what she did when she was with Nicole. She laughed.

---

Sunday, April 24, 2016… The Earp Homestead—2:30 a.m. Mountain Daylight Time

Several hours later, Wynonna stumbled out of her room, still half-asleep. She shivered from the slight chill in the air, and wondered if the fire had gone completely out in the woodstove. Wandering toward the bathroom, she noticed the light still burning in the living room, and stopped in, thinking she would go ahead and check the fire. And there she discovered Waverly and Nicole nestled together on the sofa, fast asleep, the half-empty bowl of abandoned popcorn tipped over on its side. She smiled to herself, thinking how pleased she was that Waverly had found a friend—one who didn't treat her like a freak just for the simple fact that she was an Earp, or worse, that she was Wynonna's sister.

Quietly, she crept toward the woodstove, attempting to open it without waking them. But the hinge creaked loudly, startling Nicole into awareness. "Hey…" she said sleepily, rubbing her eyes. Reaching for the popcorn bowl, she set it upright on the table beside her. "Can I help?"

"Nah, I've got it," Wynonna replied. Though it was dwindling, the fire was still lit. She grabbed a couple more logs, tossing them inside, and then closed and latched the door again. And then she moved toward the sofa. "Looks like you've got your hands full, anyway," she commented, referring to the fact that Waverly was practically laying on top of Nicole.

Nicole chuckled softly. "Yeah, it appears that way," she agreed. "I guess we, uh… we fell asleep talking."

"Want some help coaxing Sleeping Beauty here to bed?" Wynonna offered.

Her face flushing from the thoughts that flashed through her mind in response to Wynonna's choice of phrasing, Nicole was thankful for the dim lighting produced by the table lamp.

"I wanna stay here with Nicole," Waverly mumbled, obviously not as asleep as they assumed her to be. Without opening her eyes, she snuggled deeper into the warmth of Nicole's body.

Nicole glanced at Waverly, tender affection reflecting in her eyes, and said, "I guess we're staying right here."

Wynonna rolled her eyes. "I'll get you guys a few blankets," she said, her slipper-clad feet shuffling toward the hallway closet where she'd stashed a couple of old quilts she'd snagged from Gus's place. She'd recognized them as ones her mother had made, and she remembered fondly, sitting with her beside the fireplace in the den, watching those nimble fingers working the needle and thread through the thick patchwork fabric. She remembered too, the love she felt when lying beneath them on a cold winters' night.

Shaking off the melancholy that threatened to overwhelm her, she shuffled back toward the living room. "I don't know how you two haven't frozen to death out here yet," she commented, hoping Nicole wouldn't notice the unshed tears that stung in her eyes.

"Thanks," Nicole said when Wynonna spread the thick quilts on top of them.

"No, Nicole, thank you," Wynonna said in a brief moment of sincerity. "For this…" she said, gesturing toward her sister, who had already drifted back to asleep. She looked angelic, lying there, slumbering in Nicole's arms, as if nothing sad or evil had ever touched her. "And for everything you did for us today."

Nicole offered a warm smile in return. "You're welcome. Anytime."

Wynonna gestured toward the lamp, her movement asking the question. Nicole nodded, prompting Wynonna to reach over, switching it off. "'Night," she said.

"G'night, Wynonna," Nicole quietly replied, before settling in with Waverly snug against her side. While this wasn't exactly the way she imagined the day would end, she certainly wouldn't complain.

Friday, May 27, 2016… Ghost River County Municipal Offices—3:00 p.m. Mountain Daylight Time

And she hadn't complained. Instead, Nicole had soaked in every last moment of those hours with Waverly, just like she had every single time they were together. She'd meant what she said—she would take a little awkwardness if it meant spending time with Waverly. She just needed to find a way to do that, without it breaking her heart in the process.

Skimming the contents of the second draft of the completed report regarding the kidnapping incident that left her in the hospital—and Wynonna Earp only god knew where—Nicole released a frustrated sigh, as she checked it for any errors. Somehow, amidst all the emotional upheaval, of the day, she'd managed to finish it. Finding no errors, she clicked the print button on her screen, sending the report across the network, hoping that this time it would meet Nedley's expectations. And then she listened closely for the telltale noises indicating that the printer across the room was responding to the command. Sometimes, it didn't, and she would have to try multiple times to get a response. Technology could be a real pain in the ass.

Once she heard the pages rolling off of the printer, she closed the file and leaned back in her desk chair, once again glancing at her watch—another two-and-a-half hours to freedom. Never in her life had she felt such an urgent wish for a day to end, and she knew that the impulse had everything to do with needing to set things right with Waverly. But frustrating as it may have been, she understood that duty came first, and she would never shirk her responsibilities.

Releasing a slow sigh, she rose from her chair, the heels of her boots thudding against the worn linoleum as she crossed the room to retrieve the report. She stapled the pages together, and walked to Nedley's door, where she dropped it into his in-box, wondering, not for the first time, what exactly it was that he did behind that closed door. And then she shuddered at the thought, and decided she really didn't want to know.

She moved to the front desk then, checking the Sheriff's blotter for anything incoming. Surprisingly, it was quiet—as had been the dispatch radio all afternoon. She thought that rather strange—Purgatory may have been a sleepy little town, but it was never quiet. Concerned, she checked both devices to make sure everything was running properly. And finally, with nothing appearing amiss, she went back to her desk, and kicking her feet up onto the desktop, she leaned back in the chair again, case file in hand—two hours, fifteen minutes and counting…

TBC in Chapter 5—Beer, Burgers, and Bowling…