Waverly rolls the cigarette around her fingers for a moment; she can't decide if she wants to throw it or snap it, so she settles on an easy medium and places it between her teeth. Maybe a bit soggy between her lips from the mist, but Waverly supposes that's how an unlit cigarette burns. It feels unnatural there but it reminds her of Nicole. Nicole, who she left limp in the doorway, who must have the worst confession of love of anyone, ever, and it's because Waverly can't stand to look truth in the eye.
Or, maybe, she thinks, as she spits the cigarette out and crushes it under her foot, blinking back tears, it's because Nicole is a god damn liar and that's not her fucking fault.
(It's easier to tell herself that, anyway.)
"I, uh." The bench creaks and a booted foot throws itself over the backseat of it and Nicole Haught swings herself down, resting her elbows on her knees as she leans forward. "I was going to ask if you wanted a light, but I can see that your answer is probably not."
Waverly crushes the cigarette further into the ground with her foot.
"Anyway." Nicole jams her hands into her pockets and sits back on the backseat of the bench. Her legs jiggle with nerves. "I figured I'd find you here."
"You shouldn't have come," Waverly says.
Nicole nods and looks around for a bit as if surveying the area for the first time. "Probably not, but I did anyway. I figured we were due for a talk."
"Pretty sure you said all that you needed to say."
"Well." Nicole heaves a sigh and ruffles her fingers through her hair, and damn it Waverly should be able to tear her eyes from that now. "Then it's probably a good thing that I'm not here to talk about me. Do you know why I think what I said bothered you so much?"
"Hmm." Waverly examines her nails. "Because it's shitty to lie to someone?"
"Sure," Nicole cedes. "That, but something else. We had sex on the table in my garage after spending every afternoon together. And you were happy to watch me weld shit without any motivation."
"It's called pity," Waverly snaps.
"Ouch," Nicole replies, but her tone is dry, like it could crack if she clicked her teeth too hard. "Anyway. We had sex in my garage and then the next day, you avoid me completely. Then you come home and see what you think is me serving your sister whiskey, and you storm upstairs."
"Not sure why you're telling me all this. I was there, you know."
Nicole rolls her eyes. "Every point needs a dramatic build-up, Earp. Then you find out I'm watering your sister's whiskey down to help break her addiction and she's the one that got me addicted to smoking, and now you're here, sitting on a bench and crushing my cigarette underfoot. And you know what I can't help but think?"
"That you missed a pretty big fucking part there, Nicole?"
"The part where I admit I'm in love with you? I was getting there. Because you know what?" The bench shakes as she hops from sitting on the backrest to kneeling on the seat, and Waverly isn't sure whether the butterflies in her stomach are from love or from hate, but really it's infuriating how similar they feel. "We are in this huge, complicated, dumpster fire of a mess right now in part because I love you. But we wouldn't be where we are now if you didn't love me, too."
And she says it so matter of factly that for a second Waverly actually wants to believe her, wants to sink into her own little lie. Instead she shakes her head and folds her arms over her chest and tries to burn her words with as much acid as possible. "I would hate to love you."
"And I would love to hate you," Nicole says softly, and it breaks Waverly, just a little bit. The bench wobbles again as Nicole stands and rubs her hands together to keep them warm. "Thought I could maybe join you for a cigarette, but I can see I've overstepped my bounds, so, I, uh. I'll see you at school, Waverly." She shoots her a sad little smile and nods her head before taking her leave.
Nicole's made it all the way to the car and her hand reaches for the door handle, and Waverly's not sure if her feet or her mind react first, but she's stumbling off the bench and calling, "Wait!" after her.
Nicole freezes, hand locked to the handle for a moment before taking a heavy breath and turning. The saccharine smile she's drizzled over her lips burns Waverly to look at for too long, so she kicks her boots against the ground and focuses on the overturned piles of dirt. "Could I…could I actually get a ride home?"
Nicole blinks then snorts when she realizes Waverly's being serious and slaps the door of the truck before opening it and throwing herself in. "Sure, Waverly. Whatever you want."
The car ride ended ten minutes ago and Nicole's probably still waiting for Waverly to get out of the truck and make her way up to the Homestead, but something keeps her anchored into the seat. She dreads to put a name to it, just in case it could be love.
"Well?" Nicole finally asks. She kills the engine and runs her hands through her hair before leaning against her elbow to regard Waverly. Hard lines chisel her face, grown stronger in the heavy shadows of the only shitty porchlight the Homestead can offer. "Are you waiting for me to come around and open the door for you?"
"No," Waverly says. She draws her knees up to her chest and blows out a breath of air. "I just…have you really always watered down her drinks?"
The lines on Nicole's face mold into something softer, if only just. "Every single one," she says.
"And the smoking?"
"You know what it's like trying to tell Wynonna not to do anything. It's like trying to reason with a brick wall."
Waverly snorts for a second and turns away before Nicole can see her smile. "You didn't have to start smoking with her, you know."
Nicole blows a breath from between her lips and hikes a leg up on the seat next to her. The lapels on her leather jacket are upturned again and a partially smoked cigarette sits behind her ear. "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em, right? And anyway." There's a long pause as she tries to roll the words around her mouth for a bit, before they dribble out, soft. "There are a lot of things I shouldn't have started doing." She throws a sidelong glance at Waverly that she can't decipher, but it's something that makes her stomach roll.
"Sure," Waverly agrees softly.
"Now, are you waiting for me to walk around and let you out or not?"
It's spoken as a joke but Waverly knows it's a dismissal, and that's enough. "Sorry about your cigarette," she says, shouldering the car door open.
Nicole shrugs and the one from her ear already sits between her teeth by the time Waverly's closed the door, lighter in her other hand. The tip of her cigarette flares orange for just a moment as she pulls with her lungs, and the smell of smoke is all that lingers after she's driven away.
An empty bottle of jack waits on the counter for Waverly to see, mocking, and hot tears well in the back of her throat as she storms through the kitchen, maybe to shatter it against to wall or use it for target practice with the gun she know Wynonna hides under the bed, only to stop when she realizes.
The sink reeks of whiskey.
A heavy blanket of fog coats the ground the next morning as Nicole stomps her boots to warm her feet up on her way out to the truck. She hasn't even had the decency to turn the truck on when she blinks in surprise. She can't help but think it might be a peace flag waving in her face.
An unlit cigarette sits on the dash of her car.
Maybe Nicole is avoiding Waverly at school that day, which altogether would be a fair assumption, or maybe she just happens to fall right out of her line of view whenever Waverly tries to look for her, but regardless. Waverly misses that flash of red hair throughout the hallways.
And despite the fact that Del Rey has the most enthusiastically douchey lecture that Nicole would no doubt be up his ass about, the lack of upturned lapels sitting in the corner of the classroom makes third period feel dead for what it's worth.
She hadn't realized how much she'd loved to hate Nicole before she knew her, and then how much she'd hated it once she'd thrown a literal wrench in the plans. God, having feelings was a mess.
Somewhere in between school and coming home to a surprisingly sober Wynonna with half the jelly in her sandwich dripping on her shirt, Waverly ends up at Nicole's front door.
So she knocks.
The sound of feet trampling up a staircase beat tandem to her heart evidently trying to free itself from her ribcage, then drops out through her stomach altogether when the door creaks open and Nicole peeks her head around, eyes widening in surprise. "Waverly?" she asks. Sweat rolls down her collarbones and forehead, partially shielded by a welder's mask she puts over her head.
A partially smoked cigarette sits behind her ear.
"You know, it's kinda dumb," Waverly says. She shifts on her feet for a second.
Nicole waits for her to finish and when she doesn't, nods knowingly. "Not sure what you're talking about, but I agree wholeheartedly."
"That." Waverly waves her hand around Nicole's abdomen, uncovered and coated in sweat. "I don't really know a lot about welding, but I know you wear the mask not to burn your face but then you go shirtless, like the mask is gonna protect your abs from getting burned somehow."
Nicole nods again and the grin of a grin kisses at her lips. "So you're saying it's dumb that I have abs."
Waverly scoofs and folds her arms over her chest and looks at her feet to avoid the infection of Nicole's grin creating her own.
"It is dumb," Nicole agrees after a moment. "That's what makes it my trademark."
"Time to find a new one," Waverly replies, but casually forgets to admit why. Because I don't want to see you getting hurt. She shuffles her feet against the front porch for a second and bites her lip to fend off the silence that claws at her teeth. "Well? Are you going to let me in or not?"
Nicole shrugs and leans up against the door frame. Her hand pulls the cigarette from her ear and rolls it around her fingers for a moment. "I thought you weren't talking to me."
"And I thought we both agreed that I could hand you wrenches in your most dire of moments," Waverly replies. She pushes her hands against Nicole's abs and ignores the flare in her stomach as her fingers run over the ridges of muscle, ignores the wetness between her legs that comes from it, and heads towards the door of the basement.
It's not particularly surprising that Nicole doesn't try to stop her; instead she follows timidly behind, as if waiting for Waverly to spin and blow up on her while making her way down the staircase.
Only she doesn't, because Waverly's standing in the garage doorway once she's made it down, smiling to herself as she steps in and makes her way over the sculpture. She folds her arms over her chest and nods at Nicole when she comes in, shutting the garage door behind her.
The garage itself is still a mess; the table where Waverly had shoved everything off lies barren while the floor surrounding it is covered in tools and old sketches strewn about the floor. Some of Nicole's old clothes that she'd been wearing that night are still thrown haphazardly about the couch.
Meanwhile, the sculpture is something Waverly's not sure she could describe, but if she had to, it would be something akin to, "dumpster fire."
She stares at it for a second before slowly turning to Nicole, whose fingers twine nervously together from the step of the doorway, watching Waverly.
"Well," Waverly says after a moment, looking back at the statue, which somehow has gotten worse from the last time she's seen it. "It looks like shit."
To her surprise, Nicole laughs. "I know. It's incredible, isn't it? Like, that's the beauty of it. It's fucking art."
"And the floor, Nic." She ignores how easily the nickname fell from her lips and gestures around. "You haven't—have you even picked up a single thing since we…?"
"You can say fuck," Nicole says, then laughs when Waverly makes a face. "And are we really back on the tangent of you telling me what to do in my own house?" She rocks back on her heels; unexpectant of an answer. It never comes, anyway. "I wanted to pick it up, but." She scratches the back of her head and takes a step closer into the garage, like she's somehow braving the distance between them.
Metaphors were never her thing, but she think she might like this one.
"But I couldn't, not really. Because of you. It was a good inspiration for that." She gestures to the sculpture.
Waverly snorts. "God, I hope not."
It's only when Nicole laughs that Waverly realizes she might be, just the tiniest little bit, in love.
But love doesn't get to work like that, especially not her own, when Nicole's lies tie knots in her head.
There's really a rather simple solution here; learn how to blame Wynonna. She got addicted to drinking on her own and smoking for that matter, but something so intrinsic in her can't. It's easier to cast blame on something that can leave than it is to live in the same house with it.
And yet Nicole's there, twining her fingers together nervously and trying her damndest not to smile at Waverly from underneath her welder's mask that she's taking off and tossing onto the table behind her, shirt tucked into her back pocket and sweat drying against her skin. And maybe it's hard to cast blame on her, too, when she's starting to learn that Nicole only ever has the best intentions in mind.
Maybe it's time to teach her some bad intentions, too.
Less of a strut and more of a march towards her, but either way Waverly's mouth connects with Nicole's and her hands tugs through the bottom of her hair. If there's surprise that hides behind the kiss Nicole swallows it pretty damn quickly, arms wrapping around her waist and hoisting her up. "This doesn't mean anything," she murmurs against Nicole's lips. "You're damn good in bed, I'm damn good in bed. This doesn't mean anything. No strings attached."
"Sure, no strings attached," Nicole agrees, but her mind seems elsewhere. She digs her fingernails into the skin of Waverly's back under her shirt. "Couch or table?" she breathes, and Waverly really, really, could not give less of a fuck. She digs her heel into the back of Nicole's leg and a second later she's lowered onto the couch and, thank god she has some decency to fuck me on a couch instead of a table this time.
"Tell me what you want," Nicole pants. Her lips lock onto Waverly's jawline while deft fingers work to undo her janes and push them down her legs.
"Face," Waverly breathes. She arches her back up against Nicole's ministrations, fingers pressed to her clit, and mewls when she takes them away.
Nicole's tongue works against the bite mark she'd created a moment ago. "Mouth?" she asks, and Waverly practically snarls.
" Face ," she repeats with more urgency. Her words are becoming slurred, ever so slightly, drunk off lust and she grinds down onto Nicole's hand.
This is nothing like it was last time, with Nicole demanding and Waverly so desperate to give; this is much more primal as Nicole understands and hauls Waverly onto her arms, dropping herself on the couch and situating her head between Waverly's thighs.
Waverly's head falls back in ecstasy as Nicole's fingers dig into her hips and drag her down to her throne.
God, the taste of her is addicting.
Waverly's hips begin to rock unevenly against Nicole's mouth, thighs clamping around the side of her head. Nicole's fingers dig in harder to Waverly's hips to ground her as she scrapes her teeth over her clit, and that's it. Waverly's back arches and her head falls back, a silent scream falling from an adjacent jaw as she comes.
If the taste of her was addicting, watching her come is heroin.
Her hands scrabble desperately for anything to hold on top as Nicole laps against her, finally settling on twining through her hair to pull Nicole impossibly closer to her. "Fuck," she hisses. "Fuck, Nicole, please."
Nicole flicks her tongue against her clit in response, hands dragging up her back until they find the beginning of her hair and pull to force Waverly's head back again. "Need to catch your breath again?" She asks.
And Nicole's not pushy, but the burn between her thighs takes a bit of precedence at the moment, so there's no harm in hurrying things along, especially with the sight of Waverly naked from the bottom down and her come on her inner thighs.
"So needy," Waverly purrs. She rocks her hips against Nicole's face for a moment.
"You don't get to act indignant seconds after I gave you an orgasm," Nicole hisses. Maybe her tongue snakes out to taste Waverly one more time, though. "Going to act like that with your fingers inside me, too?"
Waverly's thighs clamp around Nicole's face against and that's all the sign that she needs. Seconds later and she's on her back, Nicole draping herself over her. She loses her bra somewhere adjacent to wherever the hell Waverly's pants have gone and work to remove her own. The heat between her legs is killing her; Waverly on her back underneath her with swollen lips and sex hair certainly isn't helping her, either.
Waverly's fingers are cool to the touch as they drag over Nicole's hips while her other hand wraps the back of her neck and drags her down. The kiss almost hurt, but god, if the pain isn't beautiful.
Goosebumps erupt over her inner thighs for hardly a second before Waverly's fingers are there and Nicole's head snaps back in ecstasy. She thinks she can hear Waverly moan, baby, or maybe that's her, but what's important at the moment is how Waverly's fingers curl forward against her at the same time the hand on the back of her neck drags her down to suffocate against her lips like she's never had a goddamn breath of air a day in her life.
Maybe cigarettes taught her how to breath, but it was Waverly Earp who kept her doing it.
Waverly stops counting days by tests and starts counting them by after school visits with Nicole. She skips more cheer practices than she goes to with the excuse that school work has become more rigorous, which isn't necessarily a lie, but it's something Chrissy sees right through.
It's also Chrissy who drags her into the bathroom every morning to cover up any hickeys and listen to whatever news she has regarding fucking Nicole Haught in her garage every day after school, so Waverly figures that it's a moderately fair trade off.
Chrissy smears a bit of foundation over the bottom of Waverly's jawline and tsks. "Jesus, is she a fucking vampire? Good god, I can see teeth marks in here."
Waverly laughs and bows her head for a second.
"Real talk, though, Waves. Isn't this kinda…dangerous? Isn't this what tore you guys apart last time? There were feelings involved that got messy."
"It's not like that this time," she says, shrugging. "This time it's—there are no feelings involved."
Chrissy tsks again and stuff her makeup into a bag. "You sure about that? Because I've seen the way she looks at you in third, or when you two pass each other in the hallway. I see the way you look at her, too."
Waverly rolls her eyes and forces her teeth into her lips before anything dangerous comes out.
"Are you going over there again tonight?"
"I might be."
"Jesus." Chrissy shakes her head and sighs. "Just promise me that you won't get hurt, Waves."
It's an empty promise, but it's a promise nonetheless.
This isn't new, Waverly on the couch with her eyes rolled into the back of her head, Nicole drawing moans out of her. She crooks her fingers and Waverly's whole leg twitches with ecstasy. "God, it must make you mad," Nicole croons. She sinks her teeth into Waverly's collarbone.
Her whole voice shakes as she speaks. "What?"
"Me," Nicole continues. She's stopped her thrusting into Waverly and has started long, slow strokes against her that make Waverly want to fold in half until she snaps. "Does it make you mad that no one else can make you come the way I can?"
Waverly's whole body tenses up because she knows why as the word love flits over her lips, so she bites it back and swallows it down.
Nicole's immediately pulling back at the first sign of hesitation. "Waverly?" She asks. She falls back onto her knees, wet fingers dragging against her jeans to leave a trail of Waverly's come on them.
Waverly presses herself back and folds her legs up against her chest against the armrest of the couch. Not frightened, but curious. Afraid of the answer. Nicole blinks and her mouth bobs, waiting for Waverly to say something. Only, when she does, she wishes she could unhear it.
"Are you still in love with me?"
The floor drops out from underneath Nicole in an instant and her only retaliation is to blink. "I—is this because of what I said?" Something in the way that Waverly's face shifts drops rocks in her stomach, something like pity. Her voice drops, too, to something so deep that it becomes melodic. "I get it. You don't want me like that. This is—this is just sex to you, and I would never push for it to be anything more than that, not if you didn't want it. All that bullshit about no strings attached, right?" She smiles sadly.
Only Waverly doesn't; her eyes widen. "What? No, that's not what I was going to say—"
"Yeah," Nicole says. All the light has left her eyes. "But it's all that I can hear. I'm sure you can show yourself out."
Nicole never shuts the door on her when she leaves but maybe it's worse like that, to hear the sound of the stairs creaking as she heads upstairs, the eventual slam of the front door as she leaves, and it occurs to Waverly that when she's got all of this weight on her shoulders, maybe Atlas never had it so bad.
It's absolutely fucking fate that brings her to the bench and not the fact that it's exactly where she knew Nicole would be, but maybe those two things are intertwined. Waverly's not terribly versed in the shortcomings of fate, but she sure as hell can see a lot of hers meshing with Nicole's.
There's got to be something poetic in there, she thinks.
Her feet carry her about halfway from Nicole's truck to the bench and then decide to root her in place there. Something about upturned lapels and a partially smoked cigarette tucked under red hair have her second guessing her actions as Nicole sits on the backrest of the bench, feet on the seat and elbows against her knees.
"The answer is still yes," she says after a minute, and Waverly blinks. She hadn't realized Nicole had noticed she was there. "And I'm fucking pissed about it."
Waverly coughs, but her feet keep her in place. "What?"
"It's just." Nicole takes a deep breath and turns to face Waverly, sliding from sitting on the backrest of the bench to leaning against it instead. Her arms fold over her chest and she shakes her head. "When we slept together again, it wasn't—it was never about my feelings. I wouldn't have, god, I wouldn't have even kissed you if you hadn't kissed me first. And then it was just bullshit about no strings attached and I can't do that, Waverly. I'm a fucking puppet. I'm only strings."
"Nicole…"
Nicole shakes her head. The cigarette in her ear stays put, though, so maybe if Waverly looks at it long enough it'll keep her put, too. "I'm not here to ask for an apology, but I'm not here to give one, either."
"I'm not asking for one," Waverly says softly. "You don't owe me anything."
The hint of something sweet kisses the corners of Nicole's lips. "I found this cigarette in my car the morning after you found me at your house watering down Wynonna's drink. Would you happen to know anything about that?"
Waverly sniffles and wipes at the bottom of her eyes hastily. "Not a clue."
"Alright." Nicole nods and pushes herself from the back of the bench. Each step she takes closer to Waverly is another breath she's allowed to lock away, to remind herself how to when she needs them.
She finds herself needing that reminder around Nicole a lot, for some reason.
It's cold outside but not with Nicole standing up next to her. "Do you mind?" Nicole asks. She places the cigarette between her teeth and fishes a lighter out of her pocket. Cold fingers find Waverly's and press the lighter into them before wrapping them closed around it, but never take their leave.
And maybe Waverly could light her cigarette dangled so precariously between her teeth, but she's a bit too entranced with the idea of holding Nicole Haught's hand in the middle of fucking nowhere to do it.
The cigarette that burned holes in her stays unlit.