"I still do not quite understand what all the hussy fuss is," Doc says as he swirls his whiskey around his glass, holding his cards close to his vest.
They were gathered in the film room, Doc nursing his glass of whiskey with Wynonna's legs kicked up on his lap, the pair entrenched in a poker match with Rosita and Kate, Jeremy there for moral support.
"Hussy fuss? Really?" Wynonna snickered at him. "I know you're older than me, but geez can we not use words that haven't been used since the nineteenth century?"
Doc muttered under his mustache and knocked back the rest of his drink.
"Don't listen to her Henry, I like it," Rosita said, taking a peek at her own cards and tossing in her bet.
"The hussy fuss is that Nicole and Waverly are a couple of big dumb morons," Kate remarked once she'd matched Rosita's offer, "no offense."
"Oh, none taken," Wynonna shrugged, "for someone who has the IQ of a certified genius, Waverly's an idiot."
Doc leaned over Wynonna's legs to reach the table, placing the fourth card on the board—ten of diamonds. He grunted again, "Check," he said, the next turn going to Rosita. "What does their stupidity have to do with anything?"
"It has everything to do with it," Wynonna told him, "both of them are stupid and stubborn and oblivious as hell which is what got them here. Haught started it when Legally Blonde came up in here, but Waverly was a child—it was pretty much inevitable."
"Yeah, Wynonna's right—check—though I will say that I thought if anyone would make it, it would've been those two," Rosita added.
"Hold up, let's not act like those two lovebirds are totally over, okay?" Kate arched an eyebrow at her cards, "As far as I'm concerned, Wayhaught is still very much endgame."
"Way-haught?" Doc asked, clearly befuddled. "What on earth is a Way-haught?"
"Does this whole out-of-touch thing ever get inconvenient for you?" Wynonna snorted.
"I'll have you know that I am very much in touch," the doctor said matter-of-factly, "just last week I purchased the album 1989 on compact disk."
"Yeah, not really helping your case there," she rolled her eyes, "wait—1989? Like Taylor Swift 1989?"
"Of course."
"Hmm. And that's something you, John Henry Holliday, enjoy?"
"Well, Miss Swift does know her way around funky pop beat—"
"—and her bridges could be tax write offs for infrastructure," Jeremy added from beside Wynonna, not playing, but just enjoying their company.
"Yes," Doc nodded enthusiastically. Wynonna couldn't believe what she was hearing.
"Wait to you hear her other albums Doc, I think you're gonna love Reputation."
"You know, you'd think that, but I secretly think he's more of a folklore kinda guy," Kate chimed in.
"Woah, woah, woah," Rosita waved her hand, "how is it that I've known you for over half a decade and never knew about your Taylor Swift obsession?"
Doc just shrugged, smirking as the conversation continued to devolve into irrelevance.
"Alright, enough," Wynonna interrupted, quieting the room, "where were we?"
"Doc bought a Taylor Swift CD," Jeremy answered.
"Not that you dingus," she slapped the boy on the arm. "Whose turn is it?"
"Mine," Kate answered.
"Alright, you bettin'?"
Kate narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing the cards in her hand and on the board.
"Check."
"You guys are lame," Wynonna said, her turn now rolling around, though she herself decided not to place a bet. Doc leaned forward again, placing the fifth and final card down—three of spades. Wynonna looked at her cards, deciding her next move; Doc himself started the round, placing his own bet.
"Oh! Back to where we were," Jeremy said, "Doc didn't know what Wayhaught meant. It's a ship name," Doc looked at him like the boy had four heads and about eighteen pairs of eyes. "You know, like when people are in a relationship, you mash up their names—Way, Waverly; Haught, Nicole's last name?"
"I will not even begin to pretend I understand what you are saying," the doctor still appeared lost.
"Regardless," Wynonna pressed on, "I know those idiots aren't officially broken up, but this is weird—and both their faults."
"D'you know who initiated it?" Rosita asked, throwing in her cards.
"Haught did," Wynonna answered, "after she got out of the hospital, she sat down with Waverly, they had a serious conversation, they called a pause on their relationship and then she moved her stuff out the homestead the next morning."
She'd been pissed at first, wanted to murder Nicole Haught for up and quitting on her sister when things got tough, but she'd remembered that her sister was just as much at fault (and had mutually agreed for them to part ways). And truly, Wynonna understood better than most that urge to get up and run away from an undesirable situation, so the motive for murder quelled a bit.
"Wow, I figured Red was so pussy whipped that she'd let herself drown in that relationship if it meant she got to stay with Waverly."
"Hold on, hold on, hold on," Kate interjected while tossing in her match to Doc's wager. "Don't act like Nicole was some kind of abused puppy here, or that Waverly's some sort of abusive monster—miscommunication and bad timing is a heartless two-headed bitch."
"Kate's right, I think the break will be good for them. Let them breathe," Wynonna seconded, "Nicole's recovery was a heavy burden on both of them. Love is strong but what they went through pushed it to the brink—Blondie was the straw that broke the camel's back."
"So do we have bad blood with Miss Hastings, then?" Doc asked, smirking and looking around the room to see if anyone had picked up on his reference. Wynonna shot him an unimpressed look; Jeremy gave him two thumbs up for his efforts.
"No, she didn't mean to cause trouble," Wynonna assured, "just unfortunate circumstances."
Doc nodded his understanding.
Wynonna surveyed the table, the cards there—two of spades, six of hearts, five of spades, ten of diamonds, three of spades—and then looked at the pair in her hands. (She not so subtly tried to sneak a glance at Doc's hand, leaning back in her seat causing the man to shove the cards into his vest pocket).
"Yeah, I guess they need space or whatever," Rosita said, "but on the other hand, when has a break ever worked out? I mean look at Ross and Rachel—" The Latina caught the puzzled look on Doc's face, "—I know you never got around to watching Friends, but trust me, it made things a lot more complicated."
"Okay, but did they or did they not wind up together in the end?" Kate challenged.
"Yeah, but your logic implies that one of them will wind up in some sort of weird Rachel-Joey relationship."
"Well now I have fully fallen off this here train of thought," Doc turned to Wynonna for clarification.
"It'd be like Nicole and Jeremy dating," she answered bluntly, to which Doc made a disgusted face.
"Okay, one: that would never happen, Nicky and I are like the two gayest people I know," Jeremy said, "and two: I like to think of myself as more of a Phoebe."
"Whatever," Wynonna sneered, "it doesn't matter because that won't happen anyway. They'll be fine. They'll mope and they'll whine and then they'll realize that they're both morons and then they'll get back together. I give it two weeks, tops. Those two are all in on each other," she said, pushing all her chips to the center of the table, "just like I am on this bet."
Rosita and Kate booed, the latter of the two tossing her cards in.
"Come on old man, in or out?" She taunted, waving her cards in the air.
He removed his own from his vest, looked at them once more and then up at Wynonna.
"Oh, darlin' I am a nightmare dressed like a daydream," he said with a vainglorious smirk and a tip of his brim.
"Barf."
"When do you know me to fold?" He matched the bet and stared her down. She wasn't quite sure what his cards could be, but he was abundantly confident. "Ladies first," he smirked, nodding for her to show her hand.
"Nuh-uh," she waved a finger, "together. On three." Doc agreed. "One..two…three—"
They laid their cards out simultaneously, her eyes lighting up when she saw what Doc had been holding.
"HEYO!" She said, taking in the whole pot. Her four and ace of spades—creating a straight flush—beat out Doc's two pair (five and ten).
The doctor grumbled as he pushed her legs off of him to refill his glass.
Life on a Wayhaught break was weird, like she'd predicted, but not so far outside the realm of normal possibility that it seemed implausible. (Wynonna thought of it like what could've been if the two hadn't met in the first place).
Nicole showed up to all her workouts—both with the training staff and with Wynonna—and appeared to be taking care of herself, though she spent most of her free time at her apartment. She didn't mope or whine or anything like that, but didn't spend any extra time hanging around the arena. Nicole was very much playing the part of driven professional athlete, recovering from an injury.
Waverly, on the other hand, threw herself into her job. Most nights, Wynonna found herself closing her sister's laptop and forcing her to go up to bed. The first few nights, Wynonna heard Waverly tossing, turning and unable to get comfortable to fall asleep, but slowly her sister adjusted to not having Nicole next to her. It irked Wynonna just how well her sister could play the stuffy professional role. (She made fun of Dolls, she didn't need Waverly turning into him).
When two weeks (tops) turned into three weeks, Wynonna figured she should say something, maybe get them moving in the right direction. When three weeks turned into spending Christmas, New Year's and now approaching Nicole's birthday still on this asinine break, Wynonna knew those two crazy kids would never get back together without a kick in the ass.
Luckily, she was the exact right type of meddling menace they needed.
She started with Nicole, seeing as the redhead was actually in town—the Devils, including Waverly, on their way back Winnipeg, returning later that evening.
"Look at you go, slacker," Wynonna teased as she tossed a towel at Nicole to wipe away the sweat from their workout. "We might be able to make a hockey player out of you yet."
"I've got a few trophies to my name that would say that I already am a hockey player," she fired back.
"Mhm, your mouth is saying that, but your performance last time you were on skates says Chrissy Nedley circa second grade—or animated baby deer, circa 1942."
"That's below the belt," Nicole pouted, but didn't seem too offended, "even for you."
"Cry about it," the brunette shrugged, taking a swig of her water.
"Maybe I will."
Wynonna stuck her tongue out at the redhead, watching her gather her things. Nicole looked ready to head straight home like she did after each of their sessions without so much as allowing Wynonna to even think about requesting a hangout. Not today, Wynonna thought to herself.
"Nicole Haught."
"Wynonna Earp."
"Nicole…Haught," Wynonna repeated, slower this time.
"Wynonna…Earp," Nicole followed suit, clearly annoyed by the confusing back and forth. "Any particular reason we're doing this?"
"No, not really," Wynonna shrugged again, "just making sure I remember what your name sounds like, you know, since we never hang out anymore."
She watched a bit of guilt flash across Nicole's eyes.
"You never call me 'Nicole Haught'—it's always some ridiculous nickname or a bad pun based on my name," the redhead pointed out. "Besides, we hang out."
"This," she gestured to the weight room they were in, "is not hanging out. Come on, hang out with me tonight—Mid-Ice Crisis is playing No Regretzkys in like twenty minutes."
"Wynonna, I don't know…" Nicole continued to evade eye contact, packing her things away. Wynonna didn't respond, only crossing her arms and fixing Nicole with a long stare until the redhead could feel the eyes on her. She sighed heavily. "It's not a negotiation, is it?"
"Nope," Wynonna popped the 'p' and shook her head smugly.
She led the redhead out to the main sitting area (but first made a quick pitstop to the lobby to snag themselves a few snacks). Champ and Robin were tonight's beer league refs which would've been entertainment in its own right considering Robin's minimal understanding of the game. The matchup between the two teams tonight would likely be the one that most closely resembled actual hockey, but Wynonna wasn't really planning on watching much of the game anyway. Nicole, on the other hand, allowed herself to be fully enthralled by the burly, uncoordinated men on the ice.
Wynonna tossed a peanut M&M at her best friend, watching it thump off of the redhead's temple. Nicole breathed through her nose, but didn't turn her attention. Wynonna, naturally, did it again, not satisfied with being ignored. The second one earned her a scowl from Nicole.
"So," Wynonna asked with cheer, "whatcha been up to?"
"You don't do small talk, Earp."
"How would you know? A lot can change in a month," she shrugged. Wynonna could see Nicole doing the math in her head, trying to figure out if it had really been that long since she and Waverly went into a proverbial intermission in their relationship.
"I went up to Edmonton a couple weeks ago," Nicole answered after a moment.
"Just a quick little road trip?" Wynonna teased. "Or is there another ex we need to worry about?" Nicole sent her a hard glare; Wynonna knew she had pushed too far and gave a quick apology.
"If you must know," Nicole huffed, though Wynonna had the sneaking suspicion she was glad to be talking about something outside of their normal workout conversations, "I went to see my parents."
"Woah. Seriously?" She asked; she knew how big of a deal that was to the redhead—her family something of a sore spot for her. Nicole nodded. "And how'd that go?"
"I figured with the whole almost dying thing that I'd maybe try to mend—or build in this case—the relationship. Ya know, give 'em a chance and what not."
"And?" Wynonna was both physically and metaphorically on the edge of her seat.
"They said that they didn't even know I'd gotten injured," she said sadly. "Even the old man who spends every day in the park with his wife knew about it. But them? My birthgivers? Nothing. Zero. Zip. Nada."
"Damn dude," Wynonna had nothing of substance to add. She didn't know what to say to that, but knew the pause in conversation warranted some sort of response from her end.
"Oh, you know what I did find out?"
"What?"
"They left on an eight-month trip to Thailand three days after it happened. What kind of parents do that, with their child in the hospital?"
"Well," Wynonna approached her sadly, seeing the resignation in Nicole's eyes, "like you said, they didn't know."
"I think their story's bullshit—there's no way they didn't know. I just think they didn't wanna face me and tell me they cared more about going to Thailand than about me." Wynonna had the same suspicion, but chose not to second. She knew Nicole had given up on her parents a long time ago, but could still see that her best friend was hurt by her negligent so-called family. "God, I know I told them to stay away, but I could'vebeen paralyzed—or died—that's something you want your parents there for."
"Fuck 'em," Wynonna said bluntly. "You got all the family you need right here."
Nicole bit back a smile, turning her head to watch the No Regretzkys goalie completely whiff on a glove save. Wynonna saw this to be as good an opportunity as she was gonna get to make her move, producing a card in a blue envelope from her jacket.
She shoved the card in front of Nicole, waving it around, telling the redhead to open. Nicole took the envelope, but narrowed her eyebrows at it suspiciously.
"Since I won't see you for your birthday this weekend," Wynonna shrugged. She could tell Nicole was a bit hurt by the words, but proceeded to open the card anyway.
It was a blank piece of cardstock, not adorned with any sort of birthday message, and she snickered watching Nicole turn it over curiously like she'd been duped. She opened the card, finding where Wynonna had scrawled across the entirety of the sheet:
"You're a moron. My sister's a moron. You two should go back to being morons together.
(P.S. Happy Birthday or whatever)"
"Are you…hitting on me…for your sister?" Nicole asked, re-reading the note.
"No."
"Wynonna, I-" Nicole sighed, her resignation creeping back in. "I want to, I really do, but only if Waverly does. I feel like I've made the relationship all about me, since…you know…and—"
"—Haught, why'd you call the pause on your relationship?"
"Because we were reaching a point that could've easily turned the whole thing toxic."
"That's valid, I guess, but would you say that lack of communication was one of the biggest issues between the two of you?"
"Yeah," Nicole dragged out her answer, suspicious of where Wynonna was going with this.
"How the fuck are you going to fix your lack of communication by literally never seeing or speaking to each other?"
Nicole blinked at her, unable to answer, mind trying to make sense of what the brunette was saying to her.
"Fuck," she breathed after a moment. Wynonna nodded, tapping on the note she'd written in the card. "Fuck."
Wynonna entered the homestead with a smug little grin after speaking with Nicole, but also knew that her work was only half over.
She strolled into the kitchen to find her sister hunched over her laptop on the floor, surrounded by what she could only describe as a comedically large stack of papers and charts and folders, the kitchen table going relatively unused. She guessed the Devils got in a lot earlier than she expected, but she wouldn't be surprised if Waverly hadn't hopped off the plane and immediately buried herself in work anyway.
"Aren't you obsessed with saving the planet?" she quipped. "Because this seems like a lot of paper—couldn't this be given to you in like an email, maybe a nice PowerPoint?" Waverly didn't even register her presence, so she tried again, stepping closer to the smaller brunette. "You know, typically, work is done on the table."
"Papers kept falling off the table," Waverly grunted, still clicking away on her computer, inputting some sort of statistical mumbo jumbo into a spreadsheet.
"Okay, so the kitchen floor—the dirty, grimy kitchen floor—was the next best option?" Wynonna challenged.
"Hey! I mop the floor almost every Saturday," Waverly protested.
"Right, but it's still a floor, very famously not the same thing as a desk or table."
"Maybe we should look into getting a bigger table."
And just like that, Wynonna found her in.
"Why?" She probed, "Why would we need a bigger table for just the two of us?" She pat herself on the back when she saw Waverly stop typing (even if she didn't look away from the screen). "I mean, I wouldn't be opposed to getting a bigger table if, and this is completely hypothetical of course, you were to, ya know, get back together with a certain redheaded hockey superstar."
"We're not broken up," Waverly said, finally taking her eyes off of her laptop. "We're just on a break."
"Mhm, sure…" she paused for effect, "Ross."
"It is so not the same thing."
"I don't know," she sing-songed; there was nothing she loved more than being an instigator, "Nicole's got that thing with Hannah. If you go run off with, I don't know, Rosita or something, we'll have the homoerotic Friends reboot that literally no one asked for."
"Wynonna," her sister growled, warning her. "Don't. Don't joke. Our life is not a mid-90s sitcom."
"Yeah, okay, if that's true then why don't you call Haught up and get back together right here and now?"
"Because..." her sister released a breath through her nose, "it's really—it's just not that simple."
"Sure it is. I know for a fact that Flamin' Haught Cheetos would take you back in a heartbeat."
"That's precisely why I can't Wynonna."
"I'm sorry," Wynonna coughed, astonished, "is it opposite day and no one told me?"
"No."
"Then why the hell can't you go ask to get back together with a girl who so obviously is gonna say yes?"
"Because…Wynonna, she made herself so sick over this relationship that she literally put herself back in the hospital," Waverly reasoned. "She cares so much about the people she loves that she doesn't look after herself, I can't ask her to do that over me again."
Wynonna rolled her eyes at just how stupid the two of them could possibly be.
"While that is noble of you, I have to say that now I know I've woken up in some weird alternate universe."
"What could you possibly be talking about?"
"I'm talking about how I'm currently the smart one, and you're the village idiot."
"No one thinks you're the village idiot—not when Champ Hardy still lives here."
"Shut up and let me tell you about how much of an idiot you are." Waverly frowned as Wynonna proceeded. "You obviously love Nicole. And she very obviously loves you—like a gross amount."
"You think I don't know that?"
"I know you do, and I also know that you have to sleep with five blankets, plus your bonus blanket, because your real 'bonus blanket'," she emphasized with air quotes, "has been missing for a month." Waverly's sigh sounded a lot like an acknowledgement of Wynonna's correctness. "Babygirl, I'm not gonna tell you what to do here—"
"—Sure sounds like it."
"I'm not gonna tell you what to do here. Just don't go wasting the only relationship you've ever been in that's been worth a damn."
If she'd had a microphone in her hand, she would've dropped it, but she settled for letting the weight of her words hang in the air as she backed out of the kitchen to head to her own room.
Hours later, she found herself laying on the bed, playing one of those mindless Candy Crush knockoffs when she heard Waverly shuffle into the room.
"'Nonna?"
"Mhm?"
"You're right."
"I'm aware."
Waverly paused a moment.
"I have an idea, but I need your help."
Wynonna smirked to herself as she locked her phone, knowing she'd been successful for now the second time today.
"I thought you'd never ask."
The Blue Devils had a rare Sunday practice on the morning of January 5th. It was perfect, actually, though she figured Waverly had known their schedule inside and out and planned it that way.
She'd stayed up Friday night with Waverly, crafting and going over the steps; by Saturday afternoon there was a color-coded plan held up on their refrigerator by the little Blue Devil magnet Wynonna had stolen from the team store.
PHASE ONE:
Wynonna rang Nicole first thing on Sunday morning, the redhead groaning into the receiver as she answered.
"Wynonna, I could kill you right now."
"Good morning to you too, sunshine."
"What do you want?"
"Robin's out sick," she said. "Come in and cover for him."
Truth be told, she'd called Robin and told him not to bother coming in this morning—for the sake of Waverly's plan.
"Not happening Earp."
"Why not?" She badgered.
"It's Sunday morning, for starters."
"And you'd be here anyway if you could practice. Try a better excuse."
There was a long groan on the other end of the line and the sound of shuffling that sounded like victory to Wynonna.
"Do you even really need me there?"
"Maybe I want the company."
"It's my birthday, Wynonna."
"I'll bake you a cake," she was getting bored of the back and forth now, "just get your stupid ass up and help me out around here."
"I'll see you in twenty."
"I'll be waiting by the door, counting the seconds."
"I hate you."
"Love you too."
She heard something along the lines of yeah, yeah, yeah and the sound of Nicole's bed creaking as she fully got herself out of bed. Wynonna fist-pumped just a smidge as she mentally checked off one of her two tasks in the plan. (One: get Nicole to the rink; Two: keep Nicole distracted and busy until the end of practice).
She'd had just the idea to keep Nicole distracted, too, making quick work of pulling all the rental skates out of their cubbies and tossing them into a mismatched heap on the floor. Once she was done, Wynonna situated herself in the office, kicking her feet up on the desk as she so often did, and waited for the redhead to stroll in. When someone entered the office, she thought she'd missed the front door opening, but it was really just her sister, looking stressed and maybe a bit green.
"Did you call Nicole?" Waverly asked, Wynonna nodded, and the younger looked at her expectantly, "And?"
"And what?" Wynonna toyed.
"Did you get her to come?"
"That's more your realm, don't you think?"
"Wynonna," her sister said through gritted teeth, "is she on her way or not?"
"Oh," Wynonna debated taking it easy on her sister, who was so very clearly stressed, but being a rascal was too much fun. "No."
"Damn it 'Nonna, you had one job," Waverly whined exasperatedly, "I asked you for one thing."
She'd wanted to say that technically, technically (according to the plan that was hanging on their refrigerator), Waverly had asked her for two things, but the pure stress in the small brunette's eyes made her ease up.
"Jesus babygirl. Two words: Un. Clench," she held up two fingers for emphasis. "Of course she's coming—that's what she said—so take a chill pill."
"You're the worst," Waverly said to her as she shakily ran a hand through her hair, taking a deep breath so as to not blow a gasket. "This needs to be perfect, we can't Earp this up."
Wynonna was no stranger to their name being used as a verb. Hell, she'd been the reason for it in the first place—you don't get to be Purgatory's resident disaster without someone coining a term for your recklessness.
"We won't," she assured, hearing what most certainly had to be Nicole's car pulling up, "but you gotta go if you want your plan to go, you know, as planned."
Waverly scurried off out of sight, leaving Wynonna alone once again. She heard the door swing open and watched Nicole come in, looking thrown together like she literally rolled out of bed and drove right here. The redhead doesn't bother covering her mouth as she yawns, barely acknowledging Wynonna's presence as she tosses her keys on the desk next to the brunette.
"Mornin' Haught Stuff."
Nicole looks at her with an unimpressed frown.
"I'm here. Where's my cake?"
"Ah ah ah," she tuts, pointing her finger at Nicole, "work first, then party."
"That's hardly your motto."
Wynonna only scoffs and pushes herself up from her seat, waving Nicole to follow her. When Nicole's jaw drops to the floor at the state of the skate room, there's a part of Wynonna that thinks she's going to walk straight out the door and get back in her car. It's certainly the road she herself would've taken.
"Stay," she says as if she's training a puppy when the redhead confirms her suspicions and turns toward the door.
"What the heck happened in here? Did someone break in?"
"Champ was in charge last night," she lied, though it was a plausible enough excuse for the redhead not to question it. "This mess is killing you—I can see it on your big stupid face, so have at it."
Wynonna gestured to the pile of skates on the ground, discreetly using her phone to text Waverly: "now". Nicole got to work, though kept looking up to see if Wynonna was going to help her. A stupid move on her part, really. Even if she weren't actively trying to trick Nicole, Wynonna wouldn't have been in any sort of rush to pick up such a mess.
"Wynonna, you called me here to help you, and I'm the one doing all the wo—"
"Shhh," she held up a finger to quiet the redhead. Within seconds of the signal, Wynonna answered the phone call that she and Waverly had crafted into their plan. She answered it as Nicole looked up at her with a look on her face that said "Oh, you did not just shush me."
Waverly's voice came from the other end, but the substance of conversation didn't mean anything to Wynonna, the call being just a decoy—an excuse to leave Nicole to do all the work.
"Mhm..yeah…okay," she spoke into the receiver before covering the microphone, talking now to Nicole, "You got this, right?"
"Wynonna, seriously, you're gonna leav—"
"Sorry, what's that? Super important you say?" She made a point to look at Nicole and shrug. "Yeah, be right there," she didn't let Nicole get another word in as she backed out of the room.
She paused a moment outside the door to hear if Nicole would totally abandon the endeavor and leave out of spite. She wouldn't blame her—first she'd been promised and deprived of cake, and now she was being left behind to do work that wasn't even her job in the first place. Lucky for Wynonna, there was still that goody-two-shoes tight ass somewhere inside Nicole and after a brief pause, the sound of skates going back into cubbies.
Waverly's looking at her expectantly when she walks into her office shortly thereafter.
"Phase one complete."
PHASE TWO:
"It's not that type of plan, Wynonna, there's not really phases."
"I think it makes it more official," she shrugs, about to plop herself down on the couch near her sister's desk before stopping herself short. She can't say for sure that her sister and Nicole haven't done the deed on the sofa, so she decides it best to err on the side of caution.
Waverly doesn't argue, to preoccupied with chewing on her fingernails to quibble over semantics. She can tell her sister's nervous about this (for no reason, she thinks, but doesn't say), that it won't work out. Wynonna's had to remind her three different times just this morning that the pair aren't even actually broken up—something Waverly had been adamant about during every other previous day of the break.
They sit in Waverly's office until Finning texts Wynonna to tell her that Nedley has released them from practice. Phase two can officially commence now.
"It's show time," she says to her sister, and Waverly bolts upright, ready to go. She leads them down to the tunnel, and hides them behind the door to the locker room, still at a vantage point where they can see behind the bench area when it's cracked open.
"This is it," Waverly says, swallowing thickly. "Oh, god, this was stupid, it's not gonna work."
"Shut up, dude, it's not like you even needed this stupid plan."
"What if she doesn't take me ba—"
"—Don't you dare finish that."
"What if she laughs in my face and breaks up with me for real?"
Wynonna can only roll her eyes at the comment. The Detroit Red Wings had a better shot at winning another Stanley Cup before Nicole Haught ever willingly dumped Waverly Earp.
The universe throws them a bone when Nicole enters the area behind the benches without Wynonna even having to prod and badger her there. They watch Nicole look around, presumably for Wynonna, her eyes landing on the water bottles still left behind on the bench. Wynonna nudges Waverly in the ribs when she sees the redhead go to grab the caddies.
You can never take the goody two shoes out of Nicole Haught.
"Show time, babygirl," Wynonna pushes her toward the door as Nicole emerges with four caddies of water bottles.
Give her credit, Nicole makes it further than Waverly did almost to the point where Wynonna thinks that she might actually make it to the training room. But, the benefits of having longer arms only go so far, and sure enough, the tower of precariously stacked water bottle caddies comes tumbling down on top of the woman, soaking the front of her shirt.
Waverly's a bit further away from her than she'd've liked, but Wynonna can still hear her as she speaks up.
"I didn't know the rink had wet t-shirt competitions."
It sounds so slimy and sleazy coming from her sister and she rolls her eyes at the fact that it had worked on her when Nicole said it.
She sees Nicole freeze, every single one of her muscles tensing. She's mortified at first, Wynonna notes from a distance, but then she's mostly confused.
"Waves, what're you doing?"
"No, shh, you're ruining it," Waverly swats at the air in Nicole's direction. It takes the redhead another second to register what's going on.
"Oh," she says when it finally clicks, "well, yeah, I think they might be faulty."
Waverly bends down to help her pick up the now mostly empty bottles until they're placed neatly back in their appropriate location.
"Thank you," Nicole says, shivering slightly.
"Hey, you're shivering," her sister points out and all Wynonna can think is how ridiculous it was that Nicole wormed her way into Waverly's brain with an interaction like this. She felt like she was watching something you'd see at a middle school dance. "Here, take this."
Waverly removes the hoodie she's wearing, which happens to be the one that Nicole leant her in the original happening of this scene.
"Waves," Nicole sighs, taking the article of clothing, examining it in her hands. She looks sad, almost like she thinks it's a breakup. Wynonna cursed under her breath at her sister. It was going relatively well, but it was definitely a rookie move to give Nicole one of her own hoodies.
"Wait, no, this isn't how it looks," Waverly stammers, realizing in real time the flaw in her plan.
"You're not returning my hoodie to break up with me?"
"God no," Waverly says softly, toying with her fingers now. "The opposite actually. I…this break was stupid, wasn't it?"
"Maybe stupider than Champ."
(Wynonna wasn't sure that was possible, but it was definitely a close second).
"I've missed you."
"I missed you too."
"Will you say yes if I ask you to get back together with me—even if we weren't actually broken up?"
"Well," Nicole says, looking off in the distance as if to ponder the proposition. Wynonna swears she can feel the exact moment Waverly's heart stops. "I think that can be arranged." Waverly releases the breath she's been holding and once her heart restarts itself, she attacks Nicole, enveloping her in an aggressive hug. "Under the condition that we talk to each other from now on—about anything, bothering us or not."
"Yes, of course," Waverly's voice is muffled against Nicole's shoulder and neither of them seem to care too much about the drenched shirt the redhead is wearing, or the puddle of water spread across the floor. "I never want to go another day without talking to you for the rest of my life. The last month has been like torture."
"Not talking isn't the only thing that's been torture," the taller of the two adds, still not being released by the brunette.
"Oh yeah? What else have you missed?"
"I think I could show you better than I could tell you."
Wynonna practically vomits in her mouth. Had Nicole always sounded like such a fuckboy?
Nicole leans in and Waverly beats her to it, crashing them together fully as they kiss for the first time in however many days (Wynonna knows Waverly's got a count of the exact number; Nicole's December in the Blue Devils' calendar in Waverly's room and she'd seen her sister mark off each day they were apart). It looks not unlike they're trying to devour each other and she's almost impressed that neither of them appear to have to come up for air.
Almost.
"Yes, yes, we're all very glad Canada's favorite couple is officially not on a break anymore," Wynonna emerges from behind the door, slow clapping as she approaches the two. "But some of us are trying to keep our breakfasts down, so if we could chill with the PDA, you'd be doing a great public service."
As they pull away, Waverly's ears go red at the tips and Nicole looks slightly miffed that Wynonna had been watching the whole time. The latter places a soft kiss on the top of Waverly's head and then approaches the older Earp.
"You were a part of this?"
"Yup," Wynonna nods proudly.
"Let me get this straight—"
"—Well, that would certainly be a first for you."
Nicole ignores the comment, continuing, "You had Robin miss out on a day of work so that you could wake me up on a Sunday morning, my birthday, to clean up the skate room that you trashed, so that all of this could happen?"
"Yessir."
"Why am I not surprised?"
"I did it because I love you."
"I love you too, and you owe me a cake," Nicole says, poking her index finger into Wynonna's shoulder.
"Ooh, maybe don't let her bake it," Waverly interjects.
"Why not?"
"Because the last time she baked she used salt instead of sugar," the woman says, "and I ended up with no eyebrows."
Nicole shudders at the thought and agrees with her girlfriend.
"Store bought it is."
The two walked off hand-in-hand, Waverly saying something about all the presents Nicole had to open (because obviously the break didn't mean that Waverly hadn't remembered a Christmas gift or Nicole's birthday), completely leaving the bottle caddies and the sizable puddle on the floor.
"Hey guys?" Wynonna called after them, "Guys? The mess—on the floor? The water? The bottles?"
The happy couple didn't turn around, ignoring Wynonna, leaving her to grumble and trudge to the training room for a towel.
"I guess I'll clean it all myself."
"That's your job, Wynonna," Nicole yelled over her shoulder.