A/N: Since I haven't published one of these in ages, here's a one-shot. Hope you enjoy!

After she walked into their apartment kitchen and grabbed a drink from the fridge, Nikki turned to Jonesy with a furrowed brow. "I could have paid for it myself."

"So me wanting to help you pay for your trip makes me a shitty fiancé, huh?"

"Exactly when did I say you were shitty? You always take shit out of context, Jones." She crossed her arms. "I'm not upset that you paid; I'm upset because I've literally been saving money for this for years. This is something I wanted to do myself. Independent of you."

"So what are you saying? You don't need me or something?"

She groaned. "Wow, there you go ignoring any sort of context again. You know I have hobbies and interests that exist outside of you. In fact, they existed long before you. Is it too much to realize that I like doing things for myself, by myself, and because of myself?" Before he could retort, she replied, "Besides, shouldn't you of all people be happy that I'm telling you to save money? Keep it in your account, put it into getting your car fixed, or—if you really want to help me with something—use it for our wedding reception."

"No, let me help you go on your trip. It's my money, and this is what I'm choosing to do with it. I want to do this for you."

"For fuck's sake, why are you so stubborn?"

"Well, why do you have to be so fucking cold? It's not the end of the world if a guy tries to help you, Nik—especially if that guy's me."

He thought she was frigid? Noted. Nevertheless, she pushed aside his jab and said, "I appreciate that you're here, but I like having my own identity."

"Me helping you doesn't make you less of a woman. Y'know, I like to be needed for more than just love and dick."

"Don't act like I reduce you to just two things, Jones. You're my best friend, so there's the emotional support." She raised her left hand, pointing at the jewelry on her ring finger. "We're engaged; that's romantic. We fuck every other night; that's sexual. And—would you look at that?—we live together. That's financial."

He remained silent for a few moments; she knew she'd bested him. Of course, once he opened his mouth again, this led to another defensive statement.

"Fine. Go on your stupid trip without me then. I'll be here like I always am."

"So that's what this is really about, huh? You're mad because you're not going, and you feel abandoned because I won't let you contribute?"

He huffed, but opted for silence.

"Answer me, Jonesy."

He crossed his arms and looked away.

"Well, I'm waiting."

"I couldn't be with you in Nunavut, I couldn't be with you on your study-abroad trips, and I can't be with you now on this trip. I get it—traveling's one of your dreams, but, damn, can't we go on a trip sometime? Or am I not part of your dream, Nik?"

"Jonesy," she started, then sighed. "You know I didn't want to go to Nunavut. And you know studying abroad was good for my major. And you know that you're a part of my future, so stop acting like a fucking child and talk to me instead of passive-aggressive-guilt-tripping me. I'm trying to be your wife, not a babysitter."

He walked into the living room in silence.

"Wow, so that's how you're handling this. Real mature, asshat."

"And it's super mature of you to call me names in the process," he retorted.

She gestured her arms towards him. "And now he speaks."

"Yeah," he said as he sat down on the couch. "Now leave me alone. I wanna watch TV… by myself… because I can do things independent of you."

She took a seat next to him. "No. We're talking until we straighten this out, because I'm not gonna listen to you snark at me the rest of the day."

"Good luck getting that to happen," he replied, grabbing the remote and turning on the television just to spite her.

She snatched it from him and turned it off. "Oh, it's gonna happen. Or else."

"Or else what?" he asked, looking at her with narrowed eyes.

He didn't like the cold? Fine, she would give him fire. She would give it to him in the worst way.

She couldn't think straight. All she felt was frustrated and hellbent on fucking him into ceasefire. Her legs would hate her later, but she lived for the burn.

Clothes lay scattered on the floor, misplaced (just like any of their feelings deeper than anger and desire).

Shaky breaths, mumbled swears, and skin slapping against skin reverberated throughout their living room.

She rode his lap hard.

Fuck, she hated that he stoked small fires within her. She hated how they turned into a sprawling wildfire and consumed her. She hated wanting to yell at him one moment and then yell his name the next. She hated that, despite how he relentlessly annoyed her, she wanted to fuck the soul out of him.

She dug her blunt nails into his back, dragging them up and down against his balmy skin. Though they weren't long or sharp enough to make him bleed, she figured scratches would suffice.

His hands clawed at her ass, coaxing her to go faster.

Selfish motherfucker, she thought as the couch cushions sunk with every swift motion. He always managed to jump on her nerves, crawl under her skin, and slide between her legs. It's like his sole purposes were to piss her off and fuck her thoroughly.

All the blame and anger couldn't be placed on him, though. She wasn't ignorant—she let him in. Perhaps she didn't want a love that was easy and quiet. Despite the turbulence it caused her, maybe she liked it raucous and boisterous.

He rubbed his palm over her behind while she screwed away his last sliver of sense. Then he slapped it, making her cry out in his ear.

She snaked her hand between them, rubbing herself in quick circles, trying to get herself to a better place sooner. Moments passed. A pleasant sensation overtook her, leaving her quaking in his lap.

But he wasn't finished with her.

While she erupted, he switched his hold on her, stood up with her in his arms, and laid her on the couch. Her head still spun, but she knew his hedonistic ass wasn't done.

He nestled himself between her legs again, thrusting fast and—after grabbing her calf and pushing her leg back—going deeper.

"You like that?" Jonesy panted while rushing in and out of her. She knew it wasn't a question, but rather a taunt. In fact, it was a flex.

She moaned repeatedly, unable to respond.

"Huh? You like that?"

"Yes," she rasped. "Oh, fuck— Yes."

"Good girl."

Sex was the only time he got away with saying shit like that. He should have been grateful it made her slick.

"Shit, you're so fucking wet."

Good thing he noticed. "Drown in it, motherfucker."

"Talking shit, huh?"

"Yeah, so shut up and mmph…"

He cut her off with an ardent, messy kiss. She quickly responded to it, parting her lips to accommodate his tongue. Moments later, he broke the kiss to focus on splitting her in two.

The sounds of their bodies colliding and voices in bliss flooded her ears.

Her breath shook. Her core burned inside and out as he worked her. Her voice cried his name.

As her toes curled and legs moved spastically, he groaned and gyrated his hips with less finesse as he spilled himself into her.

"Fuck," he panted.

His breath caressed her neck while he recovered from their destructive (yet therapeutic) session.

She took this moment to recollect herself as well. She ran her fingers through his hair before he lifted his head.

When they locked eyes, he took a deep breath. "You good? I didn't hurt you or anything, did I?"

"I'm fine. I would've let you know if I couldn't handle it." She chuckled. "Aside from my thighs yelling at me tomorrow, I should be fine."

"Good." He laughed, too. "We really went at it, didn't we?"

"Uh huh, but we needed it."

He responded with a brief, warm kiss on the lips. Once they parted, her lips pulled into a frown.

"Am I really cold?" she asked in a hushed voice.

He looked at her with regret. "Of course not. You're, like, the most fiery person I know. I just… said that because I was mad or whatever. And I'm sorry… about everything."

"It's okay, Jonesy. We really haven't argued in a minute, so we were bound to get into it about something, right?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right." He offered a tiny grin, but his features dimmed again. "I really am gonna miss you on your trip, though."

"And I'm gonna miss you, too. But think about it like this: it's only for two weeks, and I'll be back before you know it."

"Okay."

"Hey, maybe soon we can go on a weekend trip, just me and you. And, if we have a smaller reception, we can go all out for our honeymoon."

His lips curled into a radiant smile and his fingertips traced the edge of her face, awakening the dormant butterflies in her stomach. "I'd love that, babe."

"I love you, Jonesy."

"Love you too, Nik."

He leaned down and gave her a kiss, slow and deliberate. She draped her arms across his back as she settled into it. Despite their relationship having its turbulent moments, she appreciated when it eased back into a calm state. No longer did fire roar in her belly. Rather, she felt warm and comfortable.

When they parted, she gave him a look of bliss. "I know we already worked some things out on this couch, but… I really want you again."

"Oh, good, I thought I was the only one."

"Not in the slightest. I just want to go slow."

"I can do slow." He pressed kisses against her shoulder before trailing his lips down her chest. "Anything for you, babe."

She giggled as he ran his tongue along her bosom. "Mmm, in that case, you're making me dinner afterwards."

He lifted his head. "Damn, I should've said that differently."

She smirked. "Too late, Garcia. You said anything."

"Fine," he conceded with a playful eye-roll.

"Great. Now, where were we?"

He appeared impish. "I believe I was doing this," he said before gently sucking on her nipple, later turning into slow, languid love on the couch.

This was a love worth having—all aspects of it.