Eight wooden tiles change things for Nick and Catherine.
Spoilers: Crow's Feet was on my mind at one point while writing this.
Note: Hope you all enjoy!
Nick studied the tiles before him. It was there, he knew it. He had been studying the area for so long that he knew he was overlooking the solution. His hand was buried in short, dark hair while his fingers absent-mindedly massaged his scalp. It was there in plain sight, he just needed to see it. He frowned and brought his hand back down to cup his chin with a sigh. His eyes darted between the tiles he thoughtfully grouped together in various combinations, and the tiles that already lay below him. "Hmm" escaped another distant and almost inaudible sigh. The ticking of that grandfather clock behind him was distracting. Just when he thought he was on to something, the ticking would creepin and throw him off. He resorted to trusted techniques he developed while on the job to enhance concentration. He visualizedbeing hermetically sealed in a crime scene where it was just him alone, andcould process the information presented to him in a methodical manner, completelyisolated in the scene. He moved the tiles around again, taking great care not to –
"Oh for Pete's sake, Nick" Catherine's frustrated whine nearly broke his seal. "Just pick a tile!"
He raised an eye in her direction and caught her smiling at him. He didn't direct full attention to her as doing so would permanently break the seal. "I need a little more time to process this, Cath" he declared in a warning tone. He shifted his weight off of his haunches and heard that tricky knee pop. Man, how long had he been in that position anyway? He plopped down and sat Indian-style, refocusing on the tiles. He could almost see the missing link. Almost there...
"Call it already!" she demanded, throwing her head over the back of the couch and sighing loudly. She drew her knees up to her chest and brought her head back to rest on top them.
"Hell, no!" He exclaimed, breaking the seal. He glared at her for about a second then softened. He couldn't be angry with her when she was looking at him that way. God, she was beautiful. Her eyes looked so sultry, perhaps because of the slightly smudged make-up after a long day at work yet they still sparkled. Her lips were slightly parted, almost pouty and so damn inviting. He envisioned covering them with his own, running the tip of his tongue over them.
Wait a minute! That's it! His eyes flew to the group of tiles before him as he propped himself up on his knees. He clapped and rubbed his palms together briskly. "Got it!" he exclaimed. Okay, Missy! You ready for this?"
"As I'll ever be" she replied unenthusiastically and returned to a normal sitting position, resting her elbows on her knees, hands clasped in front of her.
"This one decides my glorious victory!" He raised his fists in the air, clutching his precious tiles.
"Not until you actually lay them on the board, Nick!"
"Alright, alright!" He giggled boyishly, barely able to contain his excitement. "Here we go… Watch and be amazed. "He pointed at her as she rolled her eyes.
"So far you haven't done anything "she rolled her eyes.
He zeroed in on the area of his discovery. Four little tiles spelled out "Late" toward the bottom left of the board. "How about a drum roll?" he suggested teasingly only to be shot down by her furrowed brow. "Okay, maybe not. Here goes…" he dropped the first tile four spaces behind the "L" and drawled out each tile seductively "O…S…C…U…" he winked "And with 'late' already spelled out, we have 'osculate'." He smiled and raised his eyebrows, scooped up his glass of wine and held it up to her before taking a sip and noticing the score sheet. "And with 'osculate' that puts me at-"
"Nick," Catherine stared at him, swirling the contents of her wine glass.
"Just a sec," he held up his index finger as he counted the tiles. "Double letter score brings it up to 12 and looky here! Triple word score makes 36! Which puts me at 76, over the top! I win! Woo-hoo!" He made fist in the air and pulled it back "Yes!"
"Nick, before you continue with your premature victory celebration, would you mind explaining what in the hell it means?"
"Osculate? You don't know?" He dropped his jaw in mock disbelief.
"No, I think you made it up" she laughed dubiously.
"No ma'am," His fingers drummed the side of his wineglass. "Mama taught me to never tell a lie. I'm a straight shooter, you know that."
"Then what does it mean?"
Oh, it couldn't be this easy. He absolutely had to take advantage of the opportunity that presented itself. He had been dreaming of something like this for quite some time and it looked like fate just handed him the golden key. He looked down at the glass, psyching himself for the big moment."It's kind of hard to explain" he replied sheepishly and set the glass down. This is it, he thought; be cool, man.
"How's that?" she leaned forward, interested in his explanation.
"Well, for one, it might be better if I show you" he came around the coffee table and knelt before her. He hesitated, all of a sudden feeling like a teenage boy again, then slowly cupped the side of her face in the palm of his hand. He traced the line of her jaw with his fingertips to her chin to lift her head so slightly to his.
"Wh-what are you doing?" Catherine whispered breathlessly as he drew his head closer to hers. Her heart was pounding and the sound of her pulse thundered in her ears. "Nick?"
His lips brushed hers with the tenderness of a down feather then whispered "Showing you" on her lips "what osculate means". Once wasn't enough and his lips touched hers again…and again before finally covering her mouth with his. The tip of his tongue touched hers; she was so deliciously wet and tasted of the Chablis they shared. A tiny moan, almost a squeak, escaped her throat and reverberated through him. He leaned in further and circled his arm around her waist to pull her closer to him, deepening the osculation. His powerful jaw nearly renedered her helpless. His tongue dipped and swirled and danced with hers. He was good. Adding to the sensationwere those biceps flexingunder the palmsher hands, something she experienced before, but not in such an intimate setting. She couldn't help but respond, slidingher arms up and around his shoulders, to the nape of his neck and through his cropped dark hair. He shuddered as her nails gently scraped hisscalp and he instinctively wrapped his other arm around her .He slid his hand along the waistband of those stretch chinos of hers that had been driving him crazy since he arrived.
She pulled back and looked at him in utter surprise. Never had she expected anything like this to actually happen. Dreamt about it, sure, but in reality? Heavens, no.
He smiled and blushed. "Actions speak louder than words."
"That's a… pretty big word there, Nicky. "She licked her lips, and suddenly wasn't sure if she was speaking in metaphors.
"I know a few" he leaned in to kiss her neck. His lips covered her flesh before the tip of his tongue caressed her in every little kiss. He continued in this fashion down her shoulder to the scoop neckline of the cashmere sweater she had worn (not by coincidence either). His fingers worked their magic, drawing lazy circles on the small of her back.
A throaty titter escaped as she tilted her head to grant him access. "Where did it come from?"
He raised his head and looked at her, smiling. "Believe it or not," he kissed her "The 7th grade spelling bee."
A smile formed on her lips in response to his. He had that effect on her, always had. "No way."
He held up his hands defensively. "It's true, I swear it."
"Why does that one stand out in your mind?"
"Because it was the losing word. 'Os-kyu-late'," he enunciated each syllable. "I spelled it phonetically, 'Osqulate', with a 'qu' instead of a 'cu'. Lostbecause ofthat." He lowered his head, feigning disappointment for a brief moment then glanced up looking for any sign of sympathy from her.
She smiled and stroked his cheek with the back of her hand. "That was then. Let's focus on the here and now. Osculate me again, Nicky."
"It would be my pleasure" he cupped her face in his hands to claim his prize.