Though the curtains were drawn they could not completely block out the cheery midday sun, and Nick woke slowly as the light danced over his face. He did not immediately open his eyes; he was warm, and safe, and content. He was right where he wanted to be, in a bed that still felt familiar, after six months away from it, with his arms wrapped around a woman he'd never forget, the soft scent of her hair and the smoothness of her skin against him reminding him with every breath he took that somehow, some way, they had made it through, together.
It was Jen's bed he slept in, and it was Jen he held in his arms. At last, after everything, she wasn't running from him, and he didn't need to chase her memory, any more.
There had been no question in his mind that they ought to go to hers. While she'd sat cradled on his lap, clinging to him, while he'd held her so close and whispered to her how he loved her, he had known, even then, that this was where he wanted to be. Juliet had been in his bed the night before, and he didn't want to bring Jen there before he'd had a chance to wash the sheets - or better yet burn them, and erase all traces of that particular disaster. Jen had suggested it herself, that he take her home, and he had agreed gladly, and neither of them had addressed the specter of what had gone before, not when he kissed her, gently, or when she took his hand and led him through the front door. They had not talked about how he had touched another woman, let her draw so close to him, but they had, by unspoken agreement, laid down in Jen's bed only to sleep. Nick had stripped to his boxers and Jen had tugged on an old, oversized t-shirt, and they had curled up together, his arms around her, her head on his chest, exhausted and elated and relieved just to be with one another, and sleep had come for them both quickly.
He was glad of it, now. Glad he'd had the chance to rest, glad he'd been granted this opportunity to wake slowly and full of longing for her, knowing that if it was a physical display of his commitment to her he could make a better showing now than he could have done hours before, knowing that it didn't matter, really, if they came together now or tomorrow, knowing that they would, and that it would be worth the wait.
Carefully he lifted his arm - the one caught beneath Jen's neck - and checked his watch. It was just gone noon; now would be a good time to wake. If they slept too much longer they'd get no rest when night came for them again, and Monday morning would be all but impossible to bear. It would be best to rise now, and enjoy what remained of their Sunday, together.
Jen grumbled as his gentle movements disturbed her, but when she turned in his arms she was smiling, her bright eyes dancing over his face. There was no reason not to, any more, and so Nick did not hesitate; he reached out and gently brushed her soft blonde hair back from her face, and returned her smile, delighted and hopelessly in love with her.
"Good morning," he said. Such simple words, and yet they seemed monumental, somehow, because now he was saying them to her once more. It was hardly morning, but it was the first time he had woken beside her in months, and he rather thought it might be a herald of things to come, the start of something new, and something better, the start of a life in which he said those words to her each and every day. He could think of nothing better.
"Morning," she answered, grinning. It seemed Jen was as pleased to find him in her bed as he was to be there. One of his arms was still slung over her waist, and she snuck her hands between them, reached up to let her fingertips brush against the stubble on his jaw.
The moment was quiet, but it was not tense, as so many of their quiet moments had been over the last day and a half. The quiet was soft, and full of promise, understanding, even; he did not need to speak, because he knew when he looked at her that she was happy, and he knew she could see that same happiness written on every line of his face. But as he watched something in her expression seemed to shift; it was not sorrow, or doubt he saw there, but her eyes had grown thoughtful, and he waited, quietly, for her to share her heart with him.
"Did you really want to be married to me?" she asked him finally, the pad of her thumb dragging against his bottom lip. Nick pursed his lips and kissed that thumb gently as he considered his answer. It had been foolish, he knew now, to talk of marriage that day in the car when she was hellbent on leaving him and his careening flight into commitment only terrified her, but she didn't look scared, now, and so he didn't try to hide the truth from her.
"I did," he told her. "I do."
"How can you be so sure?"
Gently Nick caught hold of her, rolled them both so that he was settled on his back, and she was draped over his chest, her chin resting just above his heart while she looked at him, and his hands dragged slowly over her back.
"I've never felt about anyone the way I feel about you," he said, speaking slowly, softly, trying to think his way through it. "I never needed anyone. I was always happy on my own. But then you came along and…" he shrugged, and she grinned, and he knew then that she understand. "You mean everything to me, Jen, and I want every second I can have with you. I want all of it. I want us paying the bills and cooking dinner together. I want to come home to you every night. I want our clothes in the same closet. I want all of it."
Like it used to be, he thought, but better. He knew what it was, to share his home and his life with Jen, but the first time around they'd been scared, and just getting to know one another. It was different now; now he knew her, inside and out, and now he could hold her, and now they could simply be themselves, honestly, openly, together, always.
"Even after…" She left it hanging; there was no need for her to continue. He knew what she meant, and so he took her hand, the one with the bandage on her palm, and kissed it gently.
"Especially after that," he said. "I know what it's like to be with you, Jen, and I know what it's like to be without you. And now I know which one I'd rather have."
She smiled, bowed her head and brushed her lips against his chest. "I do, too."
"Yeah?" he asked. He wasn't asking if she preferred being with him to being without; he knew the answer to that question. What he was asking her, in that one simple word, was whether she wanted to be married to him, and when she looked at him her smile was brighter than the sun outside her window, and he knew her answer before she even spoke.
"Yeah," she said. "I want to marry you, Nick. I've never wanted that with anyone before, but I want it with you."
Those words, the same words he'd spoken to her the day everything fell apart, falling from her lips now, brought him more joy than he could bear. He reached for her, then, tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled her to him, and when their lips met his heart began to sing.
Nick had promised to take Dunny out for drinks on Friday night, and when the time came that's exactly what he did. Nick arrived at the pub first, ordered a round of beers - the bartender had looked at him askance when he'd asked for six of them, but Nick had just smiled, and the bloke relented. A server helped him haul the drinks to a table in the corner, and just as he settled himself in a chair his phone buzzed with an incoming text message.
Running late, it said, but I'll be there. Buy a girl a drink? I love you.
Nick smiled as he tucked his phone back in his pocket. Jen was coming, and she loved him; everything was right, in his little corner of the world. There had been nothing pressing on at the office, just clean up from the debacle with the murdered Mayor - Jarvis was right, they'd be untangling that mess for months - and so there was no reason for them not to gather here, all his friends in one place, and take a few minutes to simply relax, and enjoying being with one another.
Duncan turned up first; he shook Nick's hand, and laughed as he took the beer Nick offered him.
"That's what I like about you, Buchanan," he said as he settled into his own chair. "You always keep your word."
"I do my best for you, Freeman," Nick answered. They clinked their glasses together in toast, took a long sip, and then leaned back in their chairs, content.
"So, you're happy in Serious Crime, then?" Duncan asked him after a moment. "No second thoughts?
Nick grinned. "None, mate," he answered truthfully. No, Nick wasn't having second thoughts, wasn't thinking longingly of returning to Homicide. The work in Serious Crime was interesting, and he'd taken to being a Sergeant more easily than he ever thought he would, and the transfer meant he could have Jen, fully, completely, always. There was no doubt in his mind he'd made the right choice, and he knew for a fact that better things lay in store for them.
His phone buzzed a second time, and he pulled it out of his pocket, smiling while Duncan frowned.
Leaving now, the message said. Should I wear it?
Nick's answer was immediate.
Yes. He fired off the message and tucked the phone back in his pocket.
"You ever gonna tell me the real reason why you left?" Duncan asked him shrewdly.
It was a fair question, Nick knew. Duncan wasn't a fool. In the days before his transfer Nick had been surly and out of sorts, but he'd given no explanation, and before that he'd given every appearance of being happy to stay in Homicide for the rest of his career. It had come as a shock, his announcement that he had intended to leave, and he knew it must have caused a stir among his friends. They'd been wondering about it for months now; it was time, he thought, for them to learn the truth.
"I will tell you, Duncan," he said. "Let's just wait for everybody else to get here, yeah?"
Duncan was watching him thoughtfully, but he didn't disagree, just nodded and took another sip of his beer.
Rhys and Allie turned up next, Matt just behind them, though it was plain the three of them had not come together, and Matt seemed to be an island unto himself, sitting awkwardly on his chair, forcing a smile when he caught Nick's eye. The drinks were passed around and their voices began to rise; Allie was teasing Rhys about something stupid he'd done during the investigation and Duncan was playing referee and Matt looked like he'd swallowed a lemon, and Nick watched it all with his heart pounding in his chest, waiting for Jen to arrive. Everything was about to change, and Nick could hardly contain his own joy.
"Where is Jen, anyway?" Matt piped up, but he had no sooner spoken than she appeared behind his shoulder.
"I'm here, I'm here," she called breathlessly, draping her bag over the back of the empty chair next to Nick. "Sorry I'm late."
And then, before any of them could say another word, she leaned over and kissed Nick lightly on the cheek.
He was beaming when she pulled back from him, when she sat down beside him and accepted the beer he offered her. The air seemed to have been sucked out of the room; their friends were all watching them in silence, eyes wide, mouths gaping like fish plucked from the sea and dropped into a strange new world they could not comprehend. It was deftly done; just like that, Jen had turned them all on their heads, left them full of questions. She had, very neatly, created an opening for her and Nick to make their big announcement, and if the grin on her face was anything to go by she was enjoying the confusion she'd created immensely. They hadn't discussed this part of their plans, but Nick didn't mind the way she'd taken charge of their revelation; he was right there with her, always.
"You lot should see your faces," she said, taking a sip of her drink.
"Something you two wanna share with the class?" Duncan asked, his eyebrow raised incredulously.
"Yeah, actually, there is," Nick said. He reached for Jen's right hand, and she took it, and when she smiled at him he forgot every worry and every doubt he'd ever had.
"We're getting married," he said, and as he spoke Jen held up her left hand, to show off her ring, and their friends erupted into such a joyous cacophony they drew stares from the surrounding tables.
On Sunday afternoon, after one kiss had turned into a monumental shag that had left them both breathless and weak, Nick had taken Jen back to his. As she watched he'd stripped the bed, and once the sheets were balled up in the corner he had asked her to sit on it, and while she did, all bemused, he had gone to his bedside table, and pulled out a small black jewelry box.
You don't have to wear it now, he'd told her, you don't even have to say yes now, but I need you to know that I've been thinking about this for a long time, Jen. This is what I want. You are what I want.
She'd laughed, and accepted the ring at once, and they'd gone bouncing back against his bare mattress, overjoyed and overcome and desperately in love with one another. It hadn't been the most elegant of proposals, and no doubt news of it had come as a shock to their friends, but as far as Nick was concerned it was five years in the making, and not a moment too soon. He wouldn't have traded it for the world.
"Congratulations," was Duncan's response, while Allie crowed, "See! I told you they were shagging!" and Rhys squeaked a shocked "Bloody hell!"
Matt was scowling; Jen had told him how that night when he'd taken Juliet home, that night she'd first decided to come back to him, she and Matt had been out drinking and commiserating over the fact that they had nothing in their lives but the job. No doubt Matt was hurt, now, thinking maybe she'd lied to him, thinking about all the secrets she'd kept from him, but there would be time to soothe his wounded pride later. Right now, this moment, was about Nick and Jen, and the rest could keep.
"Seriously, how long has this been going on?" Rhys asked.
"That, mate, is a very long story," Nick told him. Though he kept hold of Jen's hand he brought it to rest on his thigh beneath the table, and they sat like that for the rest of the night, fielding questions from their friends, and laughing, and holding on to one another.