A/N: Wow! I really wasn't expecting this much response! It seems there's actually a lot more activity here now than a few years back when I first posted. There are some people who reviewed as a guest (maybe even more than once, if the visitor statistics of FFnet are anything to go by - of which I'm not quite certain as they're not the most user friendly ;)). Sadly I can't reply to you personally unless you log in/register.
So for now I'll have to make do here: thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, left me a message, followed and/or favourited! It is very much appreciated. I mainly write for the pleasure of writing and am glad to have found some time to do so again. To also know that others enjoy reading what I've written, is icing on the cake with a big shiny cherry on top (so to speak ;))
Anyway, here's the second instalment to Domestic Bliss. It's a whole lot longer than the first. What started out as just a snippet rapidly turned into an overgrown episode-tag to episode 2.23 Homecoming that runs all the way up to the start of 3.01 3.0. I've considered splitting it up into multiple chapters, but I think it will be nicer to read it in one go. Lastly, I sort of 'borrowed' a line for this from La Femme Nikita. If you're familiar with it, kudos to you if you spot it ;). In any case, I hope you enjoy and look forward to reading what you think.
What Makes a Home
"Life takes you to unexpected places. Love brings you home." ~ Unknown
Michael and Ryan are wrapped up in a verbal sparring match. She tunes them out quite easily and instead of listening to both men stating their arguments, she considers the long and hard journey that led her to this point in time.
Percy is dead. Amanda is in the wind. And Division? Division is filled with people whom she has been fighting over the last couple of years. People whose life she has been fighting for during the last few hours. Because their government doesn't care about them any more than either Percy or Amanda ever did. People like her.
She doesn't really know what she expected to happen once she finally got here, she just knows she wasn't expecting this. Fletch running Division… Division containing the fallout from Division. Staying on to help do that?
"I want an answer. What's it going to be?" Ryan pulls her from her musings. His voice is calm again, but there's no mistaking the urgency in his appeal.
She cannot answer him, not right now. She doesn't know. Well, that's not really true, because deep down she does know. It's just… She really doesn't want to do the thing where she's making all the decisions for everybody else. Everybody mainly being Michael in this instance. This isn't what they had in mind when they had talked about what they'd do after they took out Percy. Never, in every scenario she ever imagined, had she thought of taking over…
This isn't the way it's supposed to be…
They're supposed to be walking away from all this. Be free. Together. Hang up their guns. Live like normal people. Maybe this time she should stick to the plan instead of adjusting or improvising on the fly. Michael wouldn't object to that. She knows staying isn't what he wants either. She should just grab him by the hand and leave. They'll simply bust through the doors and run. Never look back. Just live, really live…
Problem is, their plan has always just been a dream, she has absolutely no idea of what it would be like in reality. She only knows she's been looking over her shoulder for as long as she can remember. In the many foster homes she was dumped in, on the streets, in jail, in Division, on the run from Division… The list goes on and on. She's never known a normal life and therefore has no clue what having one would entail. For her or for her and Michael together.
After everything she's been through, everything she's seen, heard and endured, she's also never considered that having a life resembling normal within reach would be able to scare her. But it does. For a moment her brain freezes. Then neurons start firing again and she easily comes to the conclusion that the line of thinking she's been entertaining is mostly irrelevant anyway.
There is no freedom or normality in reach. Not really. Percy might be dead, but the person he claimed to be the messenger for isn't. They haven't yet destroyed every single black box either and then there will be agents who she's certain won't respond to the recall. Amanda. Loose ends. All still out there, who knows where…
They are a threat. To her, to Michael, to their friends and last but certainly not least to everyone still standing in this place. She can't just walk away from that, can she?
She turns to Michael. Catches his gaze and searches his eyes for a long minute, before turning to Ryan. No. She's not doing this. She's not going to be bullied into giving an answer prematurely. She needs to think about this some more, talk to Michael, preferably after a long hot shower…
She opens her mouth to tell him that, but no sound will come. A few long seconds later she simply turns on her heel and strides away. Ryan and his answer will simply have to wait.
"Nikita?", he calls after her, "Wha-"
Then Michael's smooth baritone fills her ears, "Let her go."
"Michael-" Ryan's protest is short-lived as Michael cuts him off again, a bit more forcefully this time, "No. Give her some time to process."
She finds herself in the fields surrounding the barn. As much as she wanted to get out of her mission clothes and into a shower to wash away the grime and everything else that the last day spilled out over her, she found herself taking a straight path to the elevator and going up top.
She really can't stand the hum in that place. At the moment it even prevents her from thinking straight. And she's not leaving without Michael, so a shower will have to wait. Instead she's pulled her hair free from the bun she wore it in and has shed her mission jacket. The crisp morning air feels cleansing on her skin and freeing as a subtle gust of wind lifts her hair from her neck.
The sun is coming up. It paints a bright orange glow over a nearly clear and peaceful sky. The green pastures seem a little brighter today than when they arrived here yesterday. It's kind of beautiful, idyllic almost. Strange really. It doesn't seem fitting after all the ugliness that took place here only hours ago, in the dead of night.
She takes it all in and sorts through her thoughts again. It's exactly this view of deceiving peacefulness that settles her on the conclusion she already sort of reached tens of feet below from where she's standing now. Rationality and responsibility will prevent her from just turning her back and leaving this place for something else, something she knows next to nothing about. Something she fears will trip her up in one way or another much sooner than staying and finishing what she started all those years ago ever could.
Mind and heart aren't exactly on the same page though. It hurts. What in the world is she going to say to Michael…
He finds her then, standing all alone, the outcome of the war she's been fighting with herself not quite accepted. She turns to look at him when she hears the rustle of his leather jacket as he drops it on a nearby crate. She gives him a tremulous smile and turns back to gaze out over the fields again. She has no words and worse than that she can't bear to hold his gaze long enough for him to see the internal conflict that must be showing in her eyes.
It doesn't really matter. He recognises the battle within her quite easily and knows what her conclusion will be before she'll ever put into words what's going through her head right now. She can't leave Division behind them yet.
He also knows that he alone can make this fait accompli they'll find themselves faced with, bearable or quite the opposite for her, for them, depending on which way he handles the talk they need to have.
His knee-jerk reaction is still that he's done sacrificing for Division, he's sacrificed more than enough already. Lost so much. His wife, two children…
But then… he doesn't want to think about losing her too. By which time reason enters the picture again. He very well could lose her. Not just because she's not ready to call it quits yet when he is. He didn't want to listen to Ryan earlier, but he knows as well as she does that it's not really over. Percy's demise is a win, but it's not the final victory.
They've won the battle, not the war.
So he promises himself to try and keep his own need for all this to finally be over, in check. There's not a cell in his body that would willingly make this more difficult for her than it already is. He's standing by her. Like she's stood by him so many times.
In all the years they've known each other, she's done so much for him. Put him first a number of times. Waited for him to be ready to make peace with the shattered pieces of his past and present. He can wait for her now.
For the sake of possibility and honesty he does have to voice the alternative. It won't do to bypass it. The choice should be both of theirs even if it really isn't either one of theirs. So he says what he wishes was more than only half true as he approaches her from behind, "Division is in good hands with Ryan, Nikita. We can go."
She's silent for a beat. The frown marring her features intensifies before she answers him. Her voice is little more than an anguished whisper, "Where?"
He can honestly say he wasn't expecting her to ask him where. He'd thought she would present him with a denial, that she'd be telling him what Ryan said before was true. It's also the answer to her question now really.
There is nowhere to go, only a place to stay. Their fight isn't over yet. It's just like Ryan said earlier, there are still monsters out there. Somebody needs to clean up the mess that remains. And even though he doesn't like it, there is no one else better suited for that job than they are.
Still, her one-worded answer throws him of balance for a moment, then he adjusts and refocusses on his earlier train of thought. On the plan they'd agreed upon easily, before… The one they first fantasised about together in a dingy motel room, curled up in a bed that had most certainly seen better days, back when they were flat broke and only just on the run. Because even if the outcome is inevitable, there can be no doubt as to why and what exactly they're putting on hold.
They won't be free if they stay, not completely. In some ways they'll be even less free than they have been for the past year. They won't be able to call the shots themselves anymore. There will be no little house on the beach. No ordinary life for them. No white picket fence, mini-van or Cocker Spaniel. Not yet at least. Maybe never. That's a distinct possibility too in their line of work. He reminds her of all that with a single word, "Home… Remember? You did say that."
"I said it…", She turns to finally look at him for more than a fleeting glance and startles him with her reply, "… but I don't know what a home is, Michael."
For a second he's stunned by her words. Then she elaborates and he's sure they've just dodged a major case of miscommunication. It's so easy to forget sometimes that she hasn't known the things in life others take for granted. Himself included every once in a while. His heart breaks for her when she speaks again, "I've never had one."
Her voice wavers a bit and tears gather in her eyes as she continues, "All I know is…, I grew up here. I learned right from wrong here and I fell in love here…"
Oh Nikita. Division could never be a home. Even if they had wanted to make you feel like it was… He blames himself too, he should have been more watchful, more insightful early on… There's no way she would have been able to keep the difference between Division and a home crystal clear all on her own. He has to swallow hard at this realisation. In the meantime Nikita collects herself somewhat and is able to speak with more conviction next, "Those people down there, they deserve a chance and you know we can give that to them."
She's right. They can. And just like that it's not only about the monsters that still run free anymore. If she wants to give to others what she herself has had to fight long and hard for, he'll stand by her and help her with that too.
But not without making up for something he should have recognised a long time ago… An idea is starting to take shape in his mind when she speaks again.
"You think I'm crazy right?"
No. That's not what he's thinking at all. He's thinking this is one of the many reasons why he loves her so. Her selflessness knows no bounds. He doesn't know anyone who gives as freely as she does. Some might call her crazy for that, but not him. Crazy could never enter his mind when thinking of her.
Outwardly he answers her in the only way he can think of to convey every thing that's running through his mind all at once. He wraps her in his arms to gather her close and nips her upper lip with his. Then his lips slant over both of hers and he kisses her. Sweetly and tenderly. A soft brush of his tongue against hers as he takes his time to explore her mouth. Nikita's hands come up to rest at the base of his skull, holding him to her and she lifts herself onto her toes to gain even better access. Michael smiles through their kiss as it quickly escalates to something else entirely, as it usually tends to do.
His love. The one who pulled him from the brink at one time, forcefully. He thinks he might follow her to the end of the world if that's what she wanted, but right now… Right now is the time he wants to lead her to something she more than deserves to have. Needs to have, quite frankly. It's long overdue. Division or no Division. And even if it isn't quite in the form or in the place they had dreamed about, he will do his damnedest to make sure she will finally and definitely grasp the concept of it anyway. With him. After all, it's not really the location but instead the feeling that counts the most. And so he breaks their kiss, resting his forehead against hers, their noses softly touching. He grins a little as he doesn't exactly answer the question she didn't really ask.
"One condition."
She looks at him askance while she picks up on the light-heartedness that has replaced the seriousness in him, "What?"
"We're not staying on site, or at Ryan's place. We're getting ourselves a place to call home, just you and me."
She feels the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as a combination of relief and excitement takes root deep inside of her. As much as she loves her friends, Michael's demand sounds like heaven to her. Just the two of them. Privacy, space. Hopefully for longer than any of the other places they've stayed at before, though she hopes they'll be finished with Division in not too long a time, more.
He wants to give her a home… It's more than enough to ease the weight she's been carrying on her shoulders since Ryan asked her to stay on. Her eyes sparkle and a beautiful smile blossoms as her hands slide downward, fingers outlining his jaw. She kisses him quickly but thoroughly before she answers him with their own special little sentence. It's reserved for happy moments like this one after all.
"Done and done."
For a long while, they quietly stand leaning against each other side by side in the early morning light, overlooking the land that hides the bunker which is Division. The adrenaline rush of last night has long since worn off, but neither of them is feeling tired. They're filled with new energy as Michael starts outlining a plan for their very near future.
If they're going to work at Division again the first thing they'll do is utilise its resources to get themselves a place to live. Money and connections. He proposes a short list of things he believes their new residence should have in order for them to be able to make it their own. At the top is that their new apartment or house can in no way already be or have been connected to Division.
It needs to be clean. In every sense of the word. No chance of surveillance - but they'll scan for it anyway -, nothing already furnished, something close by, but at the same time far enough away, something that doesn't need a lot of work…
"We're also not waiting to move in", Michael adds, "It needs to be available today."
Nikita looks doubtful for a bit, thinking this is quite the tall order and Michael goes on to reassure her it really is possible.
"How do you think we managed to put newly graduated recruits up so fast? We didn't have a steady supply of ready-to-move-in-to apartments, we arranged for them as soon as someone was graduating. Quickly." He playfully nudges her shoulder with his as he explains and something clicks in her mind.
"Who's we?", she smiles up at him, she's pretty sure of the answer already. It would confirm a hunch she had before. It would be the reason for the personal touch, like the books and cd's she found in her Division appointed apartment way back when. Amanda hadn't known what she liked, she didn't care about those sort of things. But Michael did and he'd provided and expanded on them too it had seemed.
His gaze shutters a little, his smug grin turning just a little sheepish, "The handler assigned to the agent, would set things in motion. Delegate…".
"Really?", she questions, one eyebrow raised. If his expression hadn't already, the tone of his voice would have surely betrayed him.
"In most cases…", he confesses somewhat hesitantly.
"So, not all cases then?", she's laughing a little at the colour that's suffusing his cheeks now. They both know he's been caught out. She finds his slight blush endearing and besides, she so loves being right about him.
"Thank you", she whispers and turns to touch his stubbled cheeks in a loving caress just before her mouth meets his.
"Welcome", he breathes over her lips and then, just as she leans in again for more, their little moment is loudly disturbed.
"Yo Mikey, Nikki! What the hell?"
It's Birkhoff and he's striding towards them demanding an explanation. They've been incommunicado for some time now. Nikita and Michael share a rueful smile and then Nikita starts filling in her favourite computer nerd on what has occurred since they were last in contact. She tells him about Ryan being asked to run Division for the time it will need to clean up after itself. How he's asked her to help him do that. How she and Michael have decided they will. Michael goes on to tell him this job will be much easier for everyone involved if Birkhoff himself decides to stay on and help with that too. Birkhoff's face falls for a moment at this request. He heaves a sigh and then tells them he already sort of saw this coming and that he too does want to finish what was once started by just Nikita.
Nikita suspects Birkhoff's easy agreement to stay on as well might have something to do with that girl who replaced him in Ops, but quickly envelops him in a grateful hug anyway. Michael and Birkhoff shake hands when she releases him. He's already turning to go back inside when all of a sudden he thinks of a condition of his own to this new arrangement.
"You guys are getting your own place though, no more shacking up together", Birkhoff tells them sternly and Nikita has trouble stifling a laugh while Michael frowns at him.
"And you don't get to beat me up for kissing Nikki anymore either. This is a big favour I'm doing you guys", he adds for good measure, solely addressing Michael this time.
Michael just rolls his eyes at him and then Birkhoff's does go back inside. As soon as he's out of earshot, Nikita lets out the laugh that wouldn't be contained any longer. Michael joins in her mirth as he can well see the humour of the situation. It's a short-lived moment though, when they both realise that if they don't follow him inside soon, chances are he'll have filled Ryan in on their decision before they've had the chance to do so themselves and that's something they'd both really like to avoid.
A few hours later, Ryan's been appraised of their decision and the strings attached that Michael urgently pointed out would have to be met. Ryan's brow had raised in surprise when Michael had told him they wouldn't be able to come in for at least a week and so had Nikita's for that matter. They hadn't talked about any time off. Ryan was quick to agree though when he heard about their plans. His first official act as Division's leader was to sign off on a budget for them to realise those plans and as a bonus he told them he'd only expect them to come in on a consulting basis after their week off, as long as they weren't needed in another capacity of course. Nikita's slightly choked and emotion-filled "thanks Fletch" had been charged enough to make the former analist swallow heavily and then shoo the pair out of Ops with a double entendre, "Go on, get moving!"
They'd stopped by medical too. Alex had been awake and was told of the changes in plan as well. She hadn't seemed very sure of this new course they're going to take, but then again she had been out of it for a while and there would be plenty of time for a more in-depth discussion later on. Recovering was to be her first priority.
Next stop had been that much deserved shower, a very welcome change of clothes and a quick bite to eat and then they found it was still early enough in the day to start their house-hunt in earnest.
Now they're holding hands, looking like any other regular couple as they walk down the street towards the first house on their - with the help of Birkhoff - quickly comprised, albeit rather short list.
It's a single family brownstone and it's gorgeous. It's been restored in an exemplary way, the fireplaces are the original ones and the moulding has been redone in the same period style. It has loads of space downstairs and plenty of bedrooms upstairs, which has Nikita wondering what in the world they would ever use them for now that it's going to be just the two of them. The garden is lovely with the kitchen looking out over it and in some way the house reminds Nikita of the loft she had in Chelsea. Which is why it made their list really.
One look at Michael though and she knows they're on the same page. Beautiful as it is, this isn't their house. It's too big, too many rooms, too much upkeep.
They talk about what they thought of it over an espresso for him and a double soy latte for her and then they're off to check out the next house on their list. Roughly sixty seconds after they enter through the front door they both know this isn't going to be it either. They make it past the dated hallway into what's supposed to be the living room when Michael vetoes it. The photo's of this house have painted a rather optimistic picture. Way too optimistic to be precise. Up close and personal it's obvious it will need a lot of work to even get it to an acceptable standard. Nikita just thinks it's much too dark inside and agrees with Michael's veto wholeheartedly.
Since their last house hunting visit was such a short one, they have some time to kill before they're welcome to visit yet another house. Which isn't a house, but an apartment. Michael hadn't been exaggerating when he said that with a little help from Division they'd be able to find a house in record time if the amount of properties they've been able to schedule a visit to on such short notice is anything to go by.
They decide to take a walk in a park that's only two blocks away from the apartment they'll be taking a look at in an hour. The park is beautiful but not overly crowded even though the late spring weather is perfect for spending the day outside. They're strolling along between lush green trees and blooming flowerbeds, passing the occasional jogger, several people walking their dog, and a couple in love. Nikita recognises herself and Michael in them. The woman is holding on to her partner's arm with one hand, while the other one is clasped tightly in his. Michael has curled his forearm around hers and tangled their fingers together. He's holding their joint hands against his midriff. The woman smiles at Nikita as they pass. She's happy. Nikita is sure of that. She finds she's pretty happy herself too and kisses Michael's jaw, because she can and she feels like it. He grins at her spontaneity, gently squeezes her fingers between his, but doesn't break his stride.
It's time to double back, or they'll be late.
"What do you think?", Michael asks her when she steps back inside from the large sunlit terrace. She's sporting a look of astonished surprise and carefully turns on her heel to take in the large open-plan living room once more.
"I-… I think this may be it", she sounds awed. He feels the same. They lucked out with this one. It's absolutely spectacular.
The apartment they looked at before coming here had felt somewhat cramped, this one however… It's a block further away from the park they explored earlier, but it checks all the boxes.
The living space is extraordinary. The kitchen offers plenty of space as it spans most of the far wall and leads off to a corner that would make a good dining area. It also has a sleek looking island that will easily fit four bar stools. Across from the kitchen is a raised platform with a modern fire place tucked to the side. The platform runs straight up to an all glass wall with a huge sliding door that opens up to the terrace. On a clear day like today, you can see all the way up to the ocean. Ships pass in the distance like tiny flecks on a grey blue canvas…
Inside, the only inner door in the living-room is a hidden one and it leads to the entrance hallway, which in turn leads to two double bedrooms with plenty of built-in closet space. The largest bedroom has its own double-door entrance to the terrace. There's a utility room next to the front door and the bedrooms are separated by a fabulous bathroom. From the pristine freestanding bath and glossy fixtures, to the tiling in the spacious walk-in shower, it all looks fresh and new. So does the apartment's paint job for that matter. The white oak flooring, present in every room, looks flawless and is polished to a high shine. The whole apartment is in absolutely mint condition. Aside from maybe a new coat of paint on the walls to suit their tastes, they'd be good to go.
"What do you think?", Nikita asks him in return, excitement turning her pitch slightly higher than usual.
"I think I agree with you."
"Yeah?", there's wonder in her voice now as she smiles hopefully at him.
He returns her smile with that sexy half-grin of his that never fails to turn her knees to jelly. "Yeah…", he replies, his voice soft and low, "It's perfect."
Happiness bubbles up inside of her. This is going to be their place. Not hers or everyone's or someone else's. Theirs. She saunters over to him, her arms encircle his waist as his come up to wrap around her. For a minute they just stand there, grinning at each other. Both absolutely smitten. With each other and their soon to be new apartment.
"We're going to have to buy everything", she whispers conspiratorially as if the thought just struck her for the first time.
Michael chuckles, "We're going to be busy." But not tonight, he thinks. The events of the past several days and lack of sleep are catching up to them. Nikita is starting to look as drained as he feels, with dark circles marring otherwise flawless skin. She's still taking it all in, gazing at the space around them in amazement. He tucks a wayward lock of hair behind her ear, catching her attention, "You want to stay a little longer?".
If she's okay with it, he thinks he might just like to get the papers and the downpayment on the apartment settled, go grab a quick dinner together and then call it a day. Tomorrow they can get off to an early start.
Nikita thinks about it a for a bit, she's seen the fatigue lurking behind his eyes too. It's been a long, long day, "Let's do one more walk-around. Then we can go, okay?"
He kisses her briefly in affirmation, then lets himself be guided through every nook and cranny of the apartment once more, enjoying the way she enjoys it most of all.
"No, not those."
Michael stops in his tracks, his arms are laden with a pile of bath linens while Nikita is collecting linen-ware for the kitchen. "It doesn't go with the tile", she clarifies.
His eyebrows nearly disappear in his hairline. He doesn't see how these towels would clash with the tiling in their new bathroom at all and most of all he wonders when in the world she became the kind of woman that worried about stuff like that.
She laughs at his expression, "Just grab them in white, hon."
Alright, maybe she doesn't worry so much about matching the colour of their linens to their tiles, after all. He won't admit that's sort of a relief to him. He does however dutifully switch the towels he was carrying with white ones.
They're making good progress. It's only been a few hours into their shopping spree and so far they've managed to pick out everything they think they'll need for their kitchen, from flatware to a state of the art slow-juicer that Nikita was making serious googly eyes at. They've arranged for a washer and a dryer to be delivered late afternoon and they've stumbled across a gorgeous set of deck-chairs with a matching end table that's currently lying unassembled in the back of the SUV they borrowed from Division for the week.
They're having fun too. They're not rushing especially, but they're not dawdling either. When she sees something she likes, she'll squeeze his hand or sidle up to him to ask what he thinks. Apart from the most horrid bowl he's ever seen - that she suggested would go nicely on their countertop, he finds he can deny her next to nothing. He's made a few suggestions of himself too, most of which they ended up taking with them as well. Like the round silver lamp with the green glass beads that will hang from the ceiling of their bedroom.
Next stop will be a high end furniture warehouse that's able to deliver just about anything within an incredibly short time - for a price of course, which is why Division has been using them for years. They're hoping to find the basics there. A bed, a sofa, a dining room table and chairs. The rest they'll go shopping for at a later date, allow themselves the luxury of taking more time to finish decorating and turn the apartment into their home instead of just a roof over their heads. Which is what he wants for them, but mostly for her. A shot at turning their apartment into their home.
At the end of the afternoon the washer and dryer have found a new home in the utility closet. Nikita has just loaded the washing machine with their brand new kitchen and bath linens. The dishwasher is already on its second load and Michael is outside piecing together their patio furniture. If he manages to finish in time they'll have a place to sit besides the floor, while they eat the Thai dinner she's ordered for them. She's not betting on that though.
She's caught him swearing twice already while she was sorting through and putting away their new appliances, plates and glassware. She has faith in her man, she really does. She's certain he'll get the job done, she's just not sure he's as handy with a cordless driver as he is with a gun. It might be a good thing these chairs are the only furniture they bought today, that need to be assembled.
She's still pleasantly surprised they managed to find and agree quite easily upon all the other furniture they set out to buy. The stylish, modern sofa and dining room set could have been delivered immediately. So could the beautiful rug they fell in love with instantly. But they've decided to let it all be delivered together with their bed, which has to be shipped in from another state and therefore won't arrive any earlier than tomorrow evening. This isn't really a problem for them as it will give them time to finish painting the walls, which they plan on starting with tonight.
To that end, she's spreading tarps all over the bedroom floor and applying masking tape to the skirting boards and door frames. When that's done, she plans to set up the paint cans, trays, brushes and rollers so they'll be able to start straight after dinner.
Through the opened patio doors she can see Michael's making good progress on the chairs. One seems to be finished and the second one is starting to take shape nicely. Wow. Right when she wonders at how he managed that in the short time she's been out of viewing range, she spies he's cast the power tool aside in favour of a regular screwdriver. Yeah, that would work better for this.
He's working diligently, quietly focussed on the task, as if it were a high profile mission. She watches the muscles flex in his arms, the way his tee is stretched over them, and the way his jeans ride a little lower, exposing the elastic of his boxers, when he crouches down to pick up another screw. She loses herself in the picture he presents, a length of masking tape dangling all but forgotten from her fingers. He's very watchable, her man. And she wonders if it's possible to fall in love with the same person over and over again.
He must have felt her eyes on him, because it's in that moment that he looks up. He flashes her a knowing grin as he playfully asks, "Are you checking up on me?"
His gravelly voice sends a shiver down her spine and then she doesn't wonder anymore. Butterflies take flight in her stomach, and she's absolutely sure she just fell in love with him all over again.
She smiles back at him, lightly shaking her head. When she finds her voice it's a little huskier than usual, "Just enjoying the view."
It's already been dark out for a while when they're nearly finished for the day. There's a streak of green across her cheek and her jeans and shirt are dotted with splashes of the same colour. Nikita's a messy painter it seems.
She's just cut in the last edge so he can cover the last bit of wall with his roller and then they're done. With their bedroom at least.
"It looks good", she declares while he moves the roller across the wall one last time. He steps back to take a look for himself and agrees with her. They've worked hard and the result is more than satisfactory. It doesn't really matter if they're out saving the world or doing a little home decorating, they make a good team anywhere.
The shade of green they picked, gives the room a nice tranquil quality. They're looking at it in artificial lighting now, but he doesn't doubt they'll be happy with it in daylight too. It will go nicely with their sparkly new lamp and the bed they chose, of which the headboard is covered in brown velvet. Or umber, as the store attendant had called it…
Michael takes the paint brush she's still holding from her hand and drops it in the tray next to his roller. When he turns around to face her, she closes the distance and touches her lips to his in a tender but all too brief kiss. He's looking at her intently, focussing solely on her beloved features now.
More than a few strands of hair have escaped her high ponytail to dance across her cheeks and in front of her eyes. He brushes them back gently and then traces the paint streak below her cheekbone with his thumb.
"I'm a mess, right?", she utters softly.
"You're beautiful", he returns. He cups her face in his hands and kisses her anew. Slowly this time. Stroking his tongue along the seam of her lips, begging entrance, which she grants immediately. For a moment he's perfectly content to leisurely taste her mouth. Then Nikita makes that one sound of pleasure in the back of her throat and slides her hands over his chest down to the edge of his jeans and it's no longer enough. Even as his hands travel down her back to pull her closer and their kiss turns more heated, he knows they're going to have to stop.
Right now, he regrets nothing more than that they won't be able stay here yet tonight. He'd have liked nothing better than to take his paint-covered girl by the hand and into the shower and then straight to bed. While the first is possible, the latter sadly isn't. And for what he really wants, he definitely prefers a bed over a tarp-covered floor that's been splattered with paint.
The nearest bed is a half an hour drive away. Unless they choose to bunk at Division, which they most certainly will not. So with all the willpower he can summon he breaks their kiss and pries Nikita's fingers from where they've strayed to the inside of his waistband.
Nikita gets why he's put an end to their make-out session and lowers her forehead onto his chest. She sighs a little frustratedly.
It's not completely about not letting their touches and kisses go any further right now. Though she wouldn't have objected to that happening at all, she gets why he put a stop to it. It's been another long day and pulling themselves together again after drowning themselves in each other first - only to drive all that way to get a decent night's sleep, is not something she looks forward to either.
It's actually more that she's felt a connection to their new apartment ever since they stepped through the front door for the first time. As if this is where they're supposed to be or something along those lines. Shopping for and working on it together today has only strengthened that feeling and she finds she doesn't want to leave.
"I really wish we could stay", she mutters tiredly.
Michael smiles ruefully at her words - hearing what she doesn't say, and lets out a sigh of his own, "Yeah…" He presses his lips to the top of her head and then squeezes her hand. "Come on", he says, following it with a promise, "Tomorrow…"
In the morning Michael wakes her up with a hot cup of coffee and a tender kiss. He's let her sleep longer than they agreed upon last night and tells her to take her time even though it's getting close to 8.00 am. They were planning another early start. Get at least the living room painted before the arrival of their furniture tonight. But he informs her they'll be having a late breakfast with Birkhoff and Alex first. Clue them in on what they've been up to in the last couple of days.
He's pulled their duffels from the corner. They contain all they have left since the beach house was breached. Besides a few guns, some ammo, a laptop and a couple of comm sets, it's mostly clothes and some jewellery, maybe there's some quick emergency cash left in them too. You learn to pack light and live with just the bare necessities when you're on the run from a government sanctioned black ops group. Even when you're staying in one place for a longer amount of time, like they did at the beach house.
She pulls herself into a sitting position and slowly sips her coffee before Michael elaborates, "He called a couple of minutes ago, asking how the house hunt was coming along. He already knew of course, but Alex doesn't. Breakfast is the price for keeping him quiet until then."
Nikita frowns, that's pretty obtuse, even for Nerd. It's only been two days… She briefly wonders what would have brought this on.
Meanwhile Michael's gathering up the rest of their things and stowing them into the duffel bags as well while he continues, "I thought you might like to tell her yourself. She was given the all-clear from medical last night."
Her frown dissipates at his thoughtfulness. She would like to tell Alex herself, especially since she'd taken her under her wing again not that long ago. Alex is okay again now and doesn't need her like she did before, but Nikita feels she owes her at least that much. "Thank you", she breathes.
He nods distractedly, his attention still with their duffel bags. He's folding the flaps and hooking them closed. A quick glance around the room tells Nikita he's managed to pack everything in record time. He's been meticulous. Not a single thing remains. When he's swung one duffel over his shoulder and is lifting the other, she sweetly calls out to him, "Honey?"
"Hmm?", he glances at her over his shoulder. A ghost of a smile is playing around her lips.
"What are you doing?"
Now it's his turn to frown. He feels like he's missing something, even though he's pretty sure he's packed up all of their stuff. He waves his free hand at the bags he's carrying, "Taking these out to the car."
Her smile blooms further. "You're taking me out for breakfast like this?", she indicates the pale rose satin slip she's wearing.
With a dull thump both duffels drop to the floor. Michael himself drops onto the end of the bed. A wry grin pulls at the corners of his mouth and he catches her eyes as he lets himself fall backwards, defeatedly. Nikita laughs at his theatrics and crawls over him. Her hands are warm and gentle against his unshaven cheeks as are his where they land on her hips and she kisses him until they're both a little breathless.
An hour later they're both appropriately dressed as they sit down with Alex and Birkhoff to fill both of them in on their new living arrangement. Nikita's enthusiasm as she talks about the apartment is contagious. Alex is all smiles and besides congratulating them both she also demands to know when she's welcome to stop by and bring them a housewarming gift. Birkhoff outwardly only declares it was about time they got their own digs, but both Michael and Nikita know he'll miss having them around.
Despite their later start this morning Michael and Nikita have managed to paint nearly all the walls of their living room by the end of the afternoon. Only the least long one in the corner where they're going to put their dining room table is left to do. They saved it for last, because they planned a different colour for it and this way the paint on the adjacent wall would have had enough time to dry. They're just about to start on it when Michael's phone rings. He puts down the fresh paint brush and roller he's grabbed from the kitchen counter to answer it.
In the meantime Nikita opens the can of softly diluted blue paint and starts stirring it to mix properly as she listens in on Michael's side of the conversation. She deduces pretty fast it's not one of their friends calling him. He sounds much too formal for it to be any of them.
She looks up when she hears him let out an irritated sigh.
"That is unfortunate", he says as he turns around and paces a little.
"Can't you send in another one?", he pauses for a moment. "No… No.", Nikita hears him say next, he's definitely agitated now and she frowns at the sound of his voice. She finishes pouring paint in a clean tray and wipes the drops clinging to the can with the clean brush Michael left behind. She wishes she could see his face, or at least know who was on the other end of the line and what they were saying. She gets up from her crouching position over the paint can and tray to walk up to him, smearing her jeans with yet another colour as she accidentally wipes the paint brush on them.
"What's wrong?", she mouthes at him silently when he turns around to face her again. He doesn't answer her, instead he answers the person talking to him over the phone.
"It'll have to be", he concedes and rolls his eyes at whatever it is the person on the other end is saying.
"Yes, 9 am", he says brusquely before he takes the phone from his ear and disconnects the call.
He takes a deep breath and then fills her in. It was the furniture company calling. Apparently the truck containing their furniture has broken down along the highway. They can't send in another truck to relieve it because of the precarious place it broke down in. It will have to be towed, but that will take time. Especially at this time of day. This means their furniture will not be delivered until tomorrow. Michael's managed to make sure it will arrive in the morning instead of in the evening like the company wanted to, but that's the earliest anyone could manage.
Nikita feels her face fall at the news. They'll have to go back to Ryan's safe house for one more night as they won't have anything even resembling a bed to sleep on otherwise.
"Damn", she swears and she knows she sounds crestfallen. Michael takes her free hand in his and pulls her into a hug with the other.
"I know", he says and presses his lips to her forehead. She wraps her arms - this time mindful of the paint brush she's holding, around his waist and leans into his body. They stand there in the middle of their bare living-room for a few minutes, both quietly digesting this bit of unfortunate news.
Then Michael suddenly puts her away from him, "Are you okay painting the last wall on your own?"
Her eyes narrow slightly, "Yeah. Why?"
He confuses her thoroughly when he replies with, "What would you like for dinner?", but answers his question anyway.
"Pizza and a beer?", add her confusion to disappointment over having to leave again tonight plus the type of manual labour they've been engaged in and she's feeling strangely in need of a decent helping of comforting junk food.
He flashes her a grin, then turns around and strides out onto the terrace taking off his shirt in the process. She doesn't have time to admire the strong line of his naked back as he calls over his shoulder, "I'll be back in an hour. Two at most."
What? She follows him into their bedroom just in time to see him pulling his shirt from this morning over his head.
"Michael, it's just a pizza and a six-pack", she remarks incredulously, waving the paint brush still in her hand trough the air as she raises her hands in disbelief.
He straightens his tee and quickly pecks her lips. "Trust me", he says and then he's gone through the hallway, fishing his keys from his jeans as he walks out the front door. Leaving her staring open-mouthed at his retreating form, rendered utterly speechless.
Since there isn't anything else to do until he gets back, Nikita makes her way back to the remaining wall as soon as she's capable of logical thought again. She takes a minute or so to stew on the fact that he just up and left her right when they found out they wouldn't be spending their first night here after all. She can't believe him. Then she shoves her double dose of disappointment to the back of her mind as she picks up brush and roller and works on with renewed and slightly vicious industriousness. It seems a little irritation goes a long way in being productive.
True to his word, he returns almost two hours later when she's about two thirds through colouring the last wall in the palest blue. He carries in a six-pack and a big pizza-box in one hand and two fairly large bags in the other, looking immensely satisfied with himself, smug grin firmly in place. It irritates her more than she cares to let on.
Nikita takes a deep cleansing breath before asking him, "Where did you go?"
She thinks she manages to sound pretty calm, but he picks up on the sliver of annoyance still present in her voice. Her roller makes a splattering sound as she puts it to the wall a little firmer than she intended and he winces.
"To arrange for a surprise", he answers her carefully, placing their dinner on the kitchen island and the bags on the floor. She huffs and turns her attention away from him and back to the task at hand, rolling paint on the wall a tad more forcefully than strictly necessary.
"Nikita", he tentatively calls as he approaches her. She takes the roller off the wall and dips it into the paint tray again, not meeting his eyes. He reaches out to her, gently encircling the hand holding the roller and stilling her movements until she lets the handle clatter hollowly onto the edge of the tray.
"I'm sorry", he offers in a low voice, "I didn't mean for you to get angry."
She looks up at him then, her expression belying her words, "I'm not angry."
He raises an eyebrow and she knows he's seeing right through her. That irritates the hell out of her too.
"I shouldn't have left like that. I'm sorry.", he offers again. There's no trace left of that smug grin, instead he looks a little distressed and a lot contrite. She deflates instantly. She doesn't want to fight either. Especially not over something as silly as this.
"What's the surprise?", she asks softly, pleased that all traces of anger have disappeared from her voice.
He kisses her knuckles apologetically, then gently pulls her along after him. "Come see", he invites her.
"How would you…", he starts asking as he opens one bag, "… like to sleep underneath the stars tonight?", he finishes just as he pulls out a large square package. It's a self-inflating air-mattress. Next to appear from the bag are a double sleeping bag and lastly he pulls two down pillows from the other one. Nikita is speechless, again. But in a good way this time.
When she finds her voice it's rather breathy, "Michael…"
He smiles at her then, confident he managed to make it up to her. "I thought it would be nice to set it up outside instead of in the bedroom. Camp-out on our own terrace?"
She nods at him, agreeing. She's still a little overwhelmed. They're not going back to Ryan's tonight, they're staying. Like they planned. Well not exactly like they planned. But this… This might be the most romantic thing he's ever done.
She's still processing it all when he asks, "Am I forgiven?"
Oh Michael.
Now it's her turn to look contrite. Maybe she overreacted a little. "Yes", she says and kisses him to let him know she's sorry too. "Yes", she breathes over his lips a second time and a relieved smile transforms his face when she wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him once more.
Ten minutes later Michael has changed his clothes again and steals a couple of bites of the pizza slice Nikita is polishing off to stave off her immediate hunger. She's shoved the rest of the pizza into the oven to keep it warm. They're going to finish painting first, to avoid the appearance of any streaks. They get to work again and between them, they manage to finish the wall in roughly half an hour.
Nikita wraps their used brushes and rollers in plastic to keep them from drying out while Michael collects and folds the tarps covering the floor. Together they quickly store everything away and then the night is theirs. They take their food and a couple of beers outside and settle themselves in their brand new deck-chairs. He passes her a slice of pizza and she passes him a beer, clinking his bottle with hers in a silent salute. They eat in companionable silence since it's getting close to nine and they're both starving. Breakfast was a long time ago and they've been keeping busy ever since.
The sun is starting to set, colouring the sky with the first of many warm golden streaks just as they finish their meal. Nikita sighs at the spectacle Mother Nature seems to be putting on just for them. They're far enough up that the traffic down below is nothing more than a dull roar at most and there aren't any buildings high enough nearby to disturb the view in any way when you're sitting where they're sitting right now. They hadn't taken the time yet to quietly take in the view and now that they have, she's absolutely mesmerised by it.
Has it only been a couple of days ago that she and Michael rappelled down the silo and into the lion's den to stop Percy? After everything that's happened between then and now, she finds it hard to wrap her head around. Still, here she is. With Michael. Doing up their very own apartment and camping on their very own terrace. If anyone would have told her a week ago this was in the cards, she'd have declared them ready to be institutionalised.
Michael chooses that moment to interrupt her thoughts. "You want another beer?", he asks quietly as he gets up from his chair.
"Yeah", another beer might be just what she needs. It's all a bit surreal really. But it's good, so very good.
She pulls her knees up in front of her, leaning into Michael's side as he sits himself on the armrest of her chair a few minutes later.
"What are you thinking about?", he asks while handing her a fresh bottle.
She takes a healthy swig, still looking in wonder at the glorious sunset. Her answer is an oversimplified version of her thoughts. "Us… the last couple of days, how fast it all went…", she trails off quietly.
His fingers gently glide through her ponytail, untangling a few paint-covered strands of hair, "Too fast?"
She looks up at him instantly, shaking her head. "No", her voice is a breathy sound, "No, just fast."
"We tend to do things the fast way when we decide on them", he offers, a smirk playing around his lips.
She thinks back on the rather tumultuous start of their relationship and how it's evolved since then. They'd hit a snag with the discovery of his son and the fallout had been less than smooth sailing, but apart from that they've been pretty much unstoppable.
"We do, don't we?", she chuckles.
"Hmm", he affirms, the sound a smokey rumble in his throat. He bends over to kiss her lightly. "It's entirely your fault though, you never did have any patience", he adds teasingly. They're both acutely aware of the irony in his words. She usually is the one who pushes forward, but the last few days he's been the driving force behind their decisions and activities.
She laughs and immediately takes her revenge by poking him lightly in his ribs as he laughs with her. He tilts her face to his again and then their banter is forgotten when he kisses her deeply. Nikita sets her bottle aside so that her hands are free to tangle around his neck, her fingers stroking through his shortened hair. She lifts up onto her knees to gain better access, but Michael has other ideas. Some clumsy manoeuvring - resulting in a banged elbow for Nikita and a sharp knee to his thigh for Michael - later, he's in her seat and she's in his lap.
"Smooth", she chuckles a little breathlessly, Michael just kisses her again. Clumsiness and resulting bruising forgotten quickly as they cuddle up together. And so they sit, pleasantly drowsy on beer and fatigue - gazing at the stars coming out, while they reflect on the past few days and look forward to the ones in the very near future. They have four whole days left, but making definite plans for them isn't what either of them wants. After their hard work of the past few days they're not committing to anything except being together. They'll just take it day by day, do whatever they feel like as the mood strikes them.
After they've eventually and mutually decided to wash the day away and go to bed, Nikita discovers she was wrong. Michael suggesting they sleep on their terrace tonight wasn't the most romantic thing after all. Lazily making love under a crystal clear starry sky is.
What they say about time flying is true. Michael and Nikita know this as well as anyone. But just as anyone would, they still feel bitter-sweet by the time evening sets in on the last day of their week off together. It's almost been like going on holiday. Granted, a very active holiday the first part of the week. The second part they've spent doing a variety of things, from exploring their new neighbourhood to scouring vintage design and little ethnic stores, to simple grocery shopping and lazing a whole day away in their brand new bed.
As a result of their shop hopping the apartment has gained some more much needed furniture, a few appealing pieces of art and a lot of accessories, all adding personal style and flair. It's not exactly finished yet, but to Michael it already feels like their home, a sometimes daring mix of both their tastes that in the end fit together as well as they themselves do.
Nikita is not as quick to label their apartment home. Not because she doesn't feel the way Michael does, or otherwise isn't happy with how their mixing of different styles has turned out. Because she really does feel the same as he does and thinks the apartment couldn't possibly have turned out any better than it has, in such a short period of time to boot. It's them and it has a really nice vibe to it. It's simply that the label has been so unfamiliar to her all her life that she doesn't really recognise it. At all. Yet. He's sure.
He wanted her to have a home, to really understand and feel what that means. Judging by the contentment that's been radiating off of her since the first morning they woke up here, he'd say she's well underway. She's just not ready to call it that yet. Until she is, he's not interfering or influencing her in any way. Therefore he's careful not to use the word either. He'll just patiently observe and bear silent witness to her process.
Currently she's sprawled across their sofa, leafing through some women's magazine he doesn't know the name of, while he's cooking them dinner. They're expected back at Division tomorrow and neither of them has any idea of what the day will bring them. By mutual agreement they haven't brought up the subject either, but he's starting to feel that maybe they should. For the first time this week Nikita's become antsy and he himself is starting to feel it too. He's not quite ready for a violent disturbance to the quiet domestic peace they've been enjoying by way of going out on missions again. Only, he's not quite sure how to breach the subject without sounding like he's second-guessing their decision to stay on…
When later that evening they're both snuggled up on the sofa together and he still hasn't found a way, Nikita unknowingly helps him out.
"I wish we didn't have to go back yet", she confesses in a hoarse whisper.
He doesn't answer straight away except to pull her a little closer to him.
"It's been so good", she adds. He can't do anything else than agree wholeheartedly with her words, at the same time they make him realise something he hadn't thought about before. This past week may have felt like being on holiday, but in reality they haven't been on vacation at all. Which means they're not saying goodbye to anything either.
"It's not over", he gently offers.
She sits up a little and he sees the dark cloud lifting from her eyes just as he feels a lightness starting to spread through his veins at this simple truth.
"No… No, it's not", she concurs, the beginnings of a smile tugging at her lips. He has to kiss her then.
Later on - when their kisses have long since turned into heated caresses, when their clothes are strewn along a path leading towards their bedroom, and sighs have turned into moans well before he finally saw fit to join their bodies as one, he has just about enough blood left in his brain to realise he doesn't want this feeling to ever end. To realise he wants her with him always and that just living together isn't enough. He wants it all. He wants her to be his in every way possible, because to him she is his home.
The following morning he'll be glad he didn't have the blood left to form a coherent sentence or he 's sure he would have asked her at the height of passion. It's not as if he's changed his mind. In fact, it's quite the opposite, he doesn't think he's ever been more sure of anything in his life. But he is glad he didn't blurt the question right then. She deserves something special, and that is exactly what he plans to give her when he does find the right moment to ask her to marry him.
It really is a new Division and indeed not much more than some consulting is expected of them, they find out on their first day back. While they've been busy elsewhere, the rest of Division has been concentrating on finding the agents who haven't responded to the recall. There were about forty of them, but some have come in since or turned up dead, leaving a grand total of thirty. Locating them turns out to be something else entirely.
Being back takes some getting used too, especially for Nikita. She still has quite the reputation with the agents inside despite the fact that she was the one who actually saved their lives a week ago. Stares and whispers follow her around. That combined with the ever present hum is enough to make to make her hyper vigilant and somewhat distracted.
Aside from that it's really nice to see their friends again. She and Alex catch up and make plans to go out for coffee in the next few days. She checks in with Birkhoff while he's busy doing what he's always doing and keeps him from running everyone else - but especially the girl that was his replacement - ragged, with his high demands. She drops in on Ryan to find Michael already there. They're discussing Division's new purpose and how to best achieve that. She joins them and thinks the president chose well, Ryan's the right man for the job even if he probably will need some time to find his footing. No one's ever really ready for everything straight away…
Just before they leave at the end of the day, which is really only late in the afternoon, she and Michael invite all the gang over for a housewarming barbecue a few nights from now. Ryan's the only one not quick to accept, there'll be no one to mind the store, he says. She has to agree he makes a fair point, but she doesn't like it. What she does like is Fletch telling her, she and Michael really don't need to come in at the crack of dawn every day as long as he can raise them when they're needed. If they could make sure they're seen regularly doing the things everyone else is doing inside Division, he believes it will help tone down the near mythical reputation they seem to have amongst a lot of personnel.
After this first day Michael and Nikita find themselves gradually falling into a rhythm. More so now than before they found their own place. At work, during the commute, at the apartment… They share household duties, find new additions to further decorate or otherwise brighten up their new digs and its ever brighter looking terrace, meet their friends, bicker over who takes out the trash (Michael) and clothes that never seem to make it to the hamper (Nikita's) and fall into bed each and every night making love or making up, whichever seems more prudent.
They're together. It's nice, so very nice, and everything they could have imagined it to be, but it's really inconvenient too as far as Michael is concerned. They're not joined at the hip especially but they do spend a lot more time together than they used to, which makes it virtually impossible for Michael to plan his proposal and far more importantly, shop for a ring.
Weeks slowly pass them by. He's managed to sneak off once when Nikita and Alex had their coffee date. A second time, when Nikita was immersed in some files in Ryan's office and he faked a headache to have an excuse to leave Division without her for the day. He'd been somewhat miffed that he didn't find what he was looking for on both attempts, but blamed it on the fact that he hadn't had a whole lot of time on either occasion. Lack of time had meant that he'd had to settle for the jewellers in the vicinity of the apartment too and they hadn't exactly been the kind of jeweller he'd been wanting to go to.
Eventually, he finally does get the opportunity to get away for a longer period of time without raising suspicion with either Nikita or their friends. It's when Nikita and Alex spontaneously decide to go on a shopping spree, one slow morning. When Nikita texts him to not wait for her with dinner he grabs his chance and is off into Manhattan and back on his engagement-ring hunt.
Too bad he doesn't find anything then either…
Too bulky, too flashy, too small. He doesn't remember ring-shopping being this painfully complicated from when he proposed to Lizzy. No matter how many jewellery stores he visits and how many rings he looks at, Nikita's ring is just not there. There's always something not quite right and he really wants, no, needs it to be perfect.
By the time Nikita arrives at the apartment late that night, he still hasn't quite managed to rid himself of the scowl on his face. When she thinks it's because she rather abruptly left for the day, he finds it easier to let her, instead of coming up with another excuse. She kisses him thoroughly and promises to make it up to him while her fingers trace a slow path down his chest and to his belt. He feels his scowl melting away as her magic fingers slowly seduce him into very different thoughts all revolving around her. The last of the niggling feeling of guilt over his sort of white lie by omission, disappears with his ability to think at all when she drops to her knees and takes him to heaven in the most agonisingly slow but passionate way.
Nikita wants to pick up some candles and show him a knitted afghan and a little cabinet she saw when she was out with Alex the other day. The cabinet is one of those industrial looking metal ones she thinks would go nicely in their hallway, the afghan is perfect on the back of their sofa for the coming cold evenings, she says with barely concealed enthusiasm.
It's late in the afternoon and his disappointment in not making any progress on finding a ring is still weighing heavily upon him. What he'd really like is to just go home and forget about everything for the rest of the day. Shut out everything and everyone and render her completely boneless with mind-blowing ecstasy like she did him last night. But when she looks at him like she does right now, he can't deny her anything.
And so, roughly an hour and a half later, he finds himself strolling along the busy main shopping street with his girl tucked into his side. They've gotten what they came for. The candles lie at the bottom of the brown paper bag he's carrying. On top of them the sand-coloured cashmere afghan that reminded him of a different time, when he was just a little boy playing at his grandmother's feet, her knitting needles tapping gently against each other. The cabinet they left at the store after Nikita had declared it not as great on second sight.
She falters in her steps a little and Michael looks around to immediately discover why. They're in front of a lifestyle and yoga studio and Nikita's gaze has locked onto a group of women gathered around a fancy water dispenser. They're all in yoga outfits, each carrying a mat. They're clearly familiar with each other, hands touching another's shoulder or arm as they stand there laughing about something only they are privy too.
In the last couple of weeks Nikita's been using their second bedroom as her own little yoga retreat. He's not the yoga practicing kind and neither are any of their friends. He's been so used to her taking an hour here or there to practice alone, he hasn't stopped to think it might be nice for her to practice with kindred spirits. Looking at her now though, he senses a longing in her to do exactly that. And why shouldn't she?
Maybe they're letting themselves be lulled into a false sense of security. Still, it's been weeks and not a single mission has been launched. Who knows how long it'll be until one will or how few and far between they'll be. He doesn't want them to keep from living their lives to the fullest while they wait for Division to call upon them. Who knows what might happen to disturb their peace, or how long they'll be waiting for that to happen.
He gently squeezes her side, "Why don't you sign up?"
Brown eyes lock with green ones, insecurities vie for dominance and seem to win. She's been practicing on her own for a long, long time. It's hard to think she doesn't have to anymore, if she so chooses. Her doubts about being able to genuinely interact with 'regular' people after all this time are powerful and stubborn. It looks like a very popular place.
"They probably won't have an available class…", she offers as an excuse, which is really double speak for they wouldn't want me to join them.
He tilts his head at her, then trails a hand down her face and through her hair. As has been the case more and more in the last few months, it doesn't take him more than a second to cut through to the heart of her self-doubt, "And maybe they do."
She leans into his touch, self-consciousness slowly making room for confidence at the faith and support she sees reflected back at her in his eyes. "You're right, I'll ask."
Nikita presses a quick kiss to his lips as she untangles her arm from his, "Wait for me here?"
After she's darted inside, he entertains himself with browsing the windows of the shops on the other side of the street. He's not really paying special attention to anything or looking for anything in particular when he sees it in the window of an inconspicuous little shop. There it is, between antique silver spoons, miniature doll house furniture, vintage gold necklaces, bracelets and earrings.
A row of tiny diamonds on both sides lead up to a gorgeously cut larger one as its centre piece. Stunningly elegant, set in white gold, it's spectacular, without being loud or extravagant or over the top in any other way. It's simply beautiful. Perfect really.
Judging by what else is displayed, it's probably also one of a kind…
A combination of acute nervousness mixed up with a good dose of elation has him nearly bouncing on the spot. He looks over his shoulder to see if Nikita is still inside the yoga studio. She is and after a quick internal debate with himself on whether he should risk getting caught or risk missing out, he ducks into the tiny store.
He's found her engagement-ring.
The shopkeeper's a little old man looking at him with time wisened eyes and a patient smile. At Michael's request he will have the ring engraved and then contact him when it's ready, assuring him it will take no more than a day or so. Michael excuses himself for being in such a hurry just before he makes a beeline for the door. The jingle of the bell is accompanied by soft, husky laughter from a man that has seen it all before in his lifetime.
Michael feels the excitement rushing through his veins, his heart is beating a mile a minute. He's done it. He's managed to procure the ring and be back outside in under five minutes, just in time to see Nikita stepping out onto the sidewalk again. She looks around for him and then waves when she finally spots him.
Michael focusses on his breathing and lowering his heart rate while he crosses the street to meet her. "Did you join?", his gravelly voice washes over her.
"Yeah", she beams at him. There's a bounce in her step too and he's completely enamoured with her child-like happiness.
"Classes start day after tomorrow.", she adds while she wraps both arms around his left one as they start walking again, leaning her head contentedly against his shoulder.
"Anything else you want to do?", he asks her next, trying his best to gloss over his own giddiness at finally finding her her ring. He's pleased to note his voice sounds far calmer than he feels. The giddiness doesn't fade however. If anything, his soon to be fiancee's answer only adds to it.
Her sparkling doe eyes find his smiling emerald ones as she looks up at him and for the first time ever he hears her softly say, "Let's go home."