Despite the unfamiliar (but ridiculously comfortable) bed and less than ideal situation, Nadine sleeps the best she has in weeks. In fact, when the alarm on her phone goes off, she wakes up almost instantly. Within seconds, the events of the last twelve hours come flooding back to her, and she realizes where she is, and who she's with. She feels a heavy weight wrapped around her, looking down to see Mike's arm tucked around her waist, her back pressed firmly against his chest. Their legs are tangled together at the ankles.

Oh. Shit.

She checks the clock - 6:35. Mike's alarm never went off.

"Mike?" She stiffens in his arms, cautiously nudging him with her toe.

"Humph?" It barely classifies as a response.

She tries again. "Mike. It's six thirty! "Wake up and let go of me!"

"It's too early," Mike groans, clearly still half asleep, his face buried in her shoulder, fingers brushing the bare skin of her stomach where her top has slid up, tightening his hold on her waist.

"Mike. Let me go." She squirms in his arms, her words a bit more forceful this time.

"What?" Mike's voice is laced with sleep and mild annoyance at being woken up so suddenly. His eyes pop open, taking in the scene in front of him, and he instantly releases his hold on her. "Oh, shit." Mike jumps back, looking sheepish. "Sorry, Nadine." He makes a half hearted attempt to pull her shirt down past her waist before putting several inches of space between them on the bed.

"Don't worry about it. Let's just get ready before we're late," Nadine busies herself with folding her clothes from the night before. An awkward tension hangs over them as Mike turns on the TV, flicking to a news channel, and they both pretend to watch for a few moments.

"Did you sleep alright?" He finally breaks the silence.

Is he trying to fuck with her? "Just fine."

"About the uh …spooning" Mike begins, searching for the right words, a slight curl of his lips on the last word. "It won't happen again." His face is a shade of pink she doesn't recognize, but it must have struck a nerve. She's not used to seeing him off his game like this.

"It's really the least of my concerns, Mike." She doesn't take her eyes off the screen.

"I'm going to jump in the shower to wake up. I'll be quick." He makes a quick beeline for the bathroom, the door closing firmly behind him.

Terrific. Look what happens not even a full day in, she thinks, shaking her head and wondering how the next few days would play out.

...

When she emerges from the bathroom thirty minutes later, wrapped in one of the bathrobes hanging on the back of the door, Mike is already dressed for the day. He's fixing his tie in the large wall mirror, dressed smartly in a navy blue suit and light pink shirt underneath. "There you are. I'm going to check out the breakfast downstairs. "What can I bring you?"

"Just tea is fine." She unzips her suitcase, and does a quick inventory of the clothes she's packed before selecting a skirt and one of her favorite blouses - one with flouncy sleeves and a back zipper in a shade of dark blue. She digs deeper for a bra.

"You need to eat something, Nadine. You'll pass out if you don't. I'll bring you a muffin or two. Blueberry right?" He doesn't have to to ask - he knows blueberry is her favorite. It hasn't been that long. "I'll see if they have fruit too." He knows she prefers lighter options in the morning.

Her stomach growls, betraying her. "That would be good." She lets a grateful smile slip across her face. "Thanks, Mike."

True to his word, he brings her tea just the way she likes it- black, half a sugar packet, and a large blueberry muffin and some grapes, which she picks at while she does her hair and puts on a bit of makeup. Mike uncharacteristically leaves her alone, his back to her as he sits at the small desk in their room, typing away on his laptop computer and taking a few early phone calls and emails. She's also not surprised when he calls Gordon's dog sitter to check in.

When she's ready, she gives herself a look-over in the mirror.

"You look nice," Mike has abandoned his work and is watching her from over the top of his computer, and something shiny catches his eye. "Oh - your zipper is undone."

"Huh?" She reaches around, feeling for the zipper on her blouse, arms just too short to reach the small silver tab.

"Here, let me." He's behind her all of a sudden, hands mere centimeters from her neck. He's standing so close to her she can hear him breathe. It takes him mere seconds to pull the zipper up to the nape of her neck. "There."

The gentle brush of his fingers on her neck leaves goosebumps on her arms and she has to pull away to stop the tiny shiver running down her back. She recognizes the look on his face in the mirror behind her, and checks her watch to avoid his eyes. "It's almost time to go. We don't want to be late."

It's a very long day. Longer than she'd anticipated, for sure. An opening speaker, multiple presentations, and several hours of short networking sessions throughout the afternoon. It leaves her with sore ankles from standing for extended periods of time, a mild headache, and a desperate need of a stiff drink. Or a nap. Or maybe both. Sustainable Development may be worthwhile, but after 8 hours she's ready for a break.

Nadine finds a spare bench in the airy lobby and sits down, rolling her ankles around in her shoes. She calls Elizabeth when the last session lets out and fills her in on the events of the day.

"Hey, Nadine," Elizabeth sounds tired. It's about 8:30 there, and Nadine hears the quiet hum of a television in the background and Henry McCord's muffled voice from the other end of the phone. "How's it going?"

"Things are fine, ma'am. Ambassador Ebyan will be in DC next month. They're very interested in a meeting with you regarding the humanitarian efforts in Somalia. I spoke with his chief of staff for quite a while this afternoon, and they're looking to visit at some point this fall. Is everyone managing back at home?"

"I see," Elizabeth begins, and Nadine can see the wheels turning in her head. "Set up that meeting sooner rather than later with Somalia before they back out."

"Of course. I'll get right on it. Is everyone managing back at home?"

" Surprisingly enough, the seventh floor survived a day without any major mishaps. I was pretty shocked, myself.

"Any word on Abby's mother?" Nadine makes a note to text Jay, another to get in touch with the ambassador's chief of staff.

"Surgery went well. She should be leaving the hospital soon, and we'll know more once Jay is back tomorrow. He took an extra day to help out at home."

"That's good to hear, ma'am. Anything I need to know or should follow up on for you?"

"Nadine, you're across the country in a different time zone. Don't worry about us. Everyone is doing just fine; we'll still be here when you get get back." Elizabeth mumbles something inaudible, and Henry laughs in the background.

"Can you repeat that, Ma'am?" Nadine tucks the phone against her shoulder, scribbling down a few notes onto a tablet.

"Nothing, it was nothing. Oh. One more thing while I have you on the line."

Nadine inhales sharply, waiting for the inevitable. "What's that, ma'am?"

"Is Mike B behaving himself?"

Nadine fumbles her pen in her hand and drops it on the floor. "He's fine, ma'am. I've run into him one or twice... "I ah - didn't see him much today." It's not a total lie. She's only seen Mike once since their lunch thankfully.

"Well, go easy on him when you do. He's a pretty sensitive guy when you get past his shenanigans."

Nadine chuckles, appreciating her boss's uncanny ability to read those around her so accurately. "Have a good night, ma'am. Give everyone my best."

"Will do. Goodnight, Nadine."

"Goodnight, ma'am." She leans against the wall, subtly watching other conference goers make their way through the lobby, enjoying some peace and quiet for the time being.

It turns out to be short lived.

"Oh hey! There you are," Mike strolls up from seemingly out of nowhere moments later. If he's anywhere near as tired as she is, it doesn't show. "I've been looking for you."

"Mike," she acknowledges him, sliding over on the bench to allow him some space, recrossing her legs in the other direction.

"How long have you been sitting here?" He glances at his watch, then back at her.

"A few minutes. Just got off the phone with the secretary," she adds. "Checking in on things back home."

"Does Msec know we're roommates for the next couple days?"

Nadine scoffs. "You know, Mike, not every conversation I have with her involves you. Just taking care of some housekeeping issues."

"You mean your staff can actually function without you?"

"They're just fine," Nadine murmurs, tossing her phone in her bag, listening to the rain that has started to fall. It's surprisingly peaceful, and it could probably put her right to sleep if she sat long enough. It's been one of those days she'd be content ordering takeout and sitting at home on her couch with a glass of scotch, a book, and some classical music in the background.

Mike, of course, has other ideas.

"So...dinner?" His question mirrors the one he asked her days after Election Night almost a year ago, the same hopeful smile on his face. The lobby has cleared out; most of the hotel patrons have gathered in the bar from what she can hear.

"I'm pretty tired, Mike." It's as gentle of a dismissal she can give. "I think I'm just going to go upstairs and read for a bit."

He's not buying it. "Come on, Nadine, it's one dinner."

"Maybe tomorrow, Mike."

He rolls his eyes in frustration. "I'm not asking you shotgun beers with me. It's dinner. One meal. I know a good Tapas bar a few blocks down. You'd like it."

"It's pouring, in case you haven't noticed." Nadine gestures to the double lobby doors and the rain coming down in sheets, the occasional crack of thunder in the distance. Typical Seattle.

"Luckily for you, I came prepared with an extra umbrella. . I know you're not afraid of a little rain." Mike grins like the Cheshire cat. "It's in the room. I'll go grab it … and your raincoat."

She sighs loudly, indicating he's won this one, and Mike squares his shoulders proudly. One dinner can't hurt. "Fine. Can you grab my wallet while you're there too? I left it upstairs after lunch."

"You don't need it. I'm paying," he winks. Nadine opens her mouth to object, and he holds up a hand in concession. "Relax. I'll get it for you."

"Thank you."

He heads to the elevator, calling over his shoulder, "I'm still paying, though!"

Of course he is.

...

Two and a half hours later, they're both slightly buzzed, despite their best intentions. They'd split several tapas plates and a bottle of strong Spanish wine, and it'd been one of the better meals she'd eaten in the last few months. They'd laughed, talked, even reminisced, and for all intents and purposes, it had gone extremely well.

By the time he reached for the check, she'd finally started to feel relaxed again in his presence. On the walk back, she barely noticed when he'd slipped an arm around her waist, his hand casually falling against her hip and staying there.

He suggests room service dessert once they're safely out of the rain and back in their hotel room.

She refuses- she's too full to indulge any further - and instead reaches into her suitcase for her pajamas. For a minute she stares at the pile of soft material in her hands. She's never been insecure, but it feels like a line she shouldn't cross. Nadine turns to face the wall, slipping her blouse over her head, shielding her body from his gaze. As if it would make a difference.

"You do realize I've seen you naked? Many times?" Mike teases. She didn't even realize he was watching her. Her face flushes and it's not the wine.

"You keep bringing up the fact that you've seen me naked, Mike. Something tells me it's on your mind." She reaches behind her and unclasps her bra, maneuvering her arms through her sleeves and straps before ultimately tossing it in her suitcase.

"You keep avoiding my question."

"I'm not avoiding anything. But I'm not trying to entice you, Mike." She says it in jest, but there's truth behind her words. Maybe the wine is making her bold.

"Wow, thank you, Nadine. How thoughtful of you." He loosens his tie, throwing it onto the bed in frustration.

"No need to be snarky."

"Did it ever occur to you that simply just being alone with you is a challenge? Let alone we have to share a damn bed?" He tosses his shirt behind him, revealing his shirtless chest. Nadine swallows and pointedly looks averts her gaze.

"You're not the only one who feels that way, Mike," she says softly, unzipping her skirt and dropping it over her hips, stepping into her matching pajama pants. She doesn't bother to turn around this time.

"Then damnit, what are we doing?" He pulls the UVA shirt over his head.

"We're sharing a hotel room, Mike. Remember?"

"Oh, cut that out.. You know it's more than that."

"What the hell do you expect from me," she bristles, the familiar anger she'd felt months ago bubbling up again. She crosses her arms over her chest self-defensively.

"I don't know, Nadine. Maybe something besides awkwardly tap-dancing around the fact that we didn't spend a few months building something together and then seeing it completely blow up in our faces," he spits out bitterly.

"And whose fault is that?" She spat right back.

He glares at her. "Are you serious right now? You chose your career over us. You proved your loyalty. You made your choice." His jaw tightens; his mouth pressed into a thin line, clearly remembering the last conversation they'd had in her office. The one where she'd practically chased him down the hallway and dragged him into her office. They one where he barely gave her a chance to explain herself before he'd stormed out and didn't look back.

"Us?" She can hear the contempt laced in her own voice, but doesn't try to hide it.

"Yes. Us. You ran at the first sign of trouble and reported me to Elizabeth. You never even considered that maybe I wasn't a total piece of shit. You made assumptions and didn't even bother to consider the alternative until it was too late."

"You didn't necessarily fight either, Mike. You walked away, if I remember correctly."

"You're right. I did walk away. I walked away because you don't trust me," his words sting, because they're true; they both know it. "You never did."

She's speechless for the few moments it takes for her to gather her wits. "Damn you, Mike," she says softly, curling her legs to her chest, too tired to argue with him anymore. She takes a few shaky deep breaths, waiting for him to continue. He never does, and instead turns on the TV.

She loses track of how long they sit in silence, but two episodes of MASH have played, so it's been almost an hour when he finally speaks again, muting the TV.

"Nadine?" He sounds tired, resigned. Not something she's seen very often.

"Hmm?"

"Say something," Mike murmurs just loud enough for her hear over the whistle of the air conditioner. "Anything." It's the closest thing to a truce she'll get from him at this point.

She ponders his request, a wry grin twisting over her face when a thought comes to mind. "My intern has a crush on you." Maybe not what he was expecting, but something nonetheless.

He shifts to face her, suddenly amused. "That's what you come up with?"

"You didn't set parameters." She loved seeing him thrown off guard.

He smirks. "Which one? Megan? Mindy? Michelle?"

"Maggie," She corrects him gently.

"The short blonde one?"

"Yes."

"The one who let me in your office? You didn't fire her immediately?"

"No Mike, I didn't. Firing people is your job, remember?"

"Correction. Is it part of my job. A small part, actually. You should pay more attention when I'm around." He rests his hand on her thigh, and she doesn't pull away, much to his surprise. "How'd you figure that out?"

She grins darkly. "I know everything that goes on in that office." Let him stew. She won't tell him the only reason she knows is because the poor girl left her intercom on for over a half hour two weeks ago, making Nadine privy to her entire lunch conversation with another intern.

"Everything, huh?"

"Everything. Why? You interested?"

"You know where my interest lies."

Nadine crosses her ankle over his, dodging his last comment. "She's going to be great one day." Her chest fills with pride when she thinks of Maggie, who, despite her lack of practical intelligence, has come a long way as an intern, mostly due to her tutelage. Mentoring interns is a role Nadine takes very seriously.

"Can we please stop talking about your intern child?" He makes a face as if he's tasted something bitter.

She sighs. "Fine, Mike. What would you prefer to talk about?"

He decides to take things a different route. "Tell me something you regret."

That takes her by surprise. With a small smile, she stretches her arms over her head in thought. "Just one thing?"

"You tell me yours, I'll tell you mine."

"Is that how this works? Somehow I don't think that's fair."

He taps his foot against the bed impatiently.

She gives it a moment of thought, and then words come eventually, slowly, as if she'll trip over them. She may as well go for it. "I regret not letting anyone in." Her voice sounds smaller than she would have liked. She doesn't regret the choices she made regarding Roman, despite their tumultuous history. She doesn't regret all the sacrifices she made to be the best parent she could – the long hours at work, the sometimes-missed concerts and art shows. That, she's learned to accept. But she does regret the fact that she's never found a fulfillment in relationships – particularly romantic ones.. "I wouldn't have done anything differently" she elaborates, searching his face for judgment. "But sometimes I regret not letting anyone get close enough to share my life with. Especially now, and how things turned out"

Mike props himself up on his elbow. "It doesn't sound ridiculous, Nadine." He doesn't take his eyes off of her, watching her face carefully. He wonders if she's referring to the whole Marsh situation, but would never ask.

"I never made it a priority. Roman was my world. That and my career. Now my son lives on the other side of the world and we schedule times to call each other. My career, well, that I'm proud of, but sometimes I wonder what could have been." She can't hide the slight twinge of resentment pin her voice.

They've had parts of this conversation before; he knows about her rocky relationship with Roman and the angst it's caused her over the years. He's learned to recognize the signs that things are terse between them - a lack of appetite, a shorter fuse, a lower tolerance for work-related mistakes. And of course, he's certainly all too aware of the demands and sacrifices of her job – his is the same.

Mike's never actually shared his opinions, just lended an ear when it had come up in the past, which was seldom. He decides now is the time, but treads lightly. "You're a good mother, Nadine. If I'm half the parent you are by the time my kid is in his twenties, I'd be satisfied. And for the record, you aren't old." He pushes a piece of her hair behind her ear.

She smiles gratefully. He's never been shy about complimenting her, but that one feels like it holds just a bit more weight than the others. Your turn." She's relieved to be off the hook, but oddly enough, she feels lighter than she did a few minutes ago.

He stares just beyond her shoulder, clearing his throat, suddenly looking sheepish. "I regret the string of women I dated for two months after we broke up."

She lifts an eyebrow in amusement, completely taken aback. "A string of women?" Not exactly what she was expecting, but then again, it was Mike B, who always has something in his belt, and he looks completely serious. Maybe he wasn't full of BS. "As in many?"

"Well, a few. More than 2. Less than 5. They all had dark hair. Impossibly smart. Short, about your height. Can't imagine where I ever developed a type." He winks at her. "To be fair, I didn't notice until Bess pointed it out."

"And what, pray tell did she point out exactly?" Nadine isn't sure if she should be alarmed or flattered, and certainly isn't pleased with the thought of Mike being so open about their situation with Elizabeth. Clearly, he'd been pining, much to her surprise. But she's intrigued, so she crosses her arms over her chest, eyes expectantly wide.

Mike cracks his knuckles. "I believe her exact words were, 'Mike, you've got a problem,' and she made a point to tell me just how royally I fucked things up with you. She's definitely still got the CIA thing in her. I don't know how she could have ever figured it out." His tone lightens.

"No kidding." Nadine clears her throat. So what happened with this string of women?" She stretches against the pillows, feeling strangely powerful. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine Mike to be that guy. Maybe things hit him harder than she'd imagined it would.

"They weren't as flexible as you are so it obviously didn't work out." His eyes shine wickedly, and she slaps him on the arm. "It wasn't nearly as fun."

She turns a light shade of scarlet, remembering how wide his eyes had gone when he'd learned the fun way just how limber she was. "Be serious, Mike. For once."

His next response is automatic, like he'd been planning it. "They weren't you." Then, he moves so quickly it takes her by surprise. In seconds, she's pinned beneath him. She squeals in shock. His body is a familiar weight on top of her, the lingering scent of cologne and soap filling her nose. His knee braces her legs, one arm supporting her back underneath of her. Her breath catches in her throat when Nadine realizes their faces are mere centimeters from one another, his lips brushing over the tip of her nose.

"What are you doing?" She rests her hands on his arms, squeezing his triceps. It's a rhetorical question, really. It needs no answer.

"This." His lips crash onto hers, meeting in a kiss, and then his tongue is invading her mouth. To his surprise she deepens the kiss, taking his bottom lip between her teeth and sucking on it. He explores her mouth a bit, remembering how well her lips fit against his and her body felt beneath him. She winds an elbow around his neck, pressing kisses down his neck.

"Careful," she breathes against him when he starts nipping at her neck. "I didn't bring any concealer."

He only laughs, moving his lips down to her neck and chest. "I'll mark you somewhere no one will see it."

The thought of it makes her shudder because she knows how true it is. Nadine gasps quietly; she'd forgotten what a good kisser he was. Mike's mouth leaves a trail of open mouthed kisses along her chest and neck, his hands squeezing her arms, stroking her back - as if desperately just wanting to touch any part of her he can reach.

Their lips meet again, a deep kiss, almost desperate, and his tongue slides into her mouth. Their hands join above their heads, and she squeezes his fingers in hers. Mike dips his head toward her breast, kissing the smooth skin there, and she lifts her hips suggestively against his pelvis.

Mike groans, but stills above her. Part of him wants to tear her shirt off and finish what he started. But, it's Nadine, and he doesn't want to completely ruin his chance of making all of this right. He pulls away, his eyes glazed over. "Got a little carried away." He grins, and she kisses him sweetly on the cheek. He makes a show of examining her neck and chest for any accidental hickeys or bite marks. "But no marks."

"No marks," she repeats, looking slightly dazed, sitting up and fixing the pillows behind her. She yawns, reaching for her phone to set her alarm. "I'm tired. Must have been that wine."

Mike gently pushes a piece of hair out of her face. "Wasn't just the wine, sweetheart."

"You're not off the hook, you know."

He narrows an eyebrow. "What did I do now?"

"For your string of women," she reminds him. "I haven't forgotten."

He pretends to zip his lips. "It goes to my grave."He kisses her again, this time chastely on the cheek, before switching off the light. "Sleep well."

Somehow, they find each other again in the night, and wake up wrapped around each other once again. This time, neither says a word about it.

Day 2 is even longer than day 1 if that's possible, and the same familiar headache starts to creep through her temples mid afternoon.

By 5:30 that evening, her shoes hurt so badly she ducks out of the last networking session half an hour early and heads back to the room. Upon further inspection in the bathroom, she curses herself quietly for the state of her feet, which look like they've been through a food processor thanks to the brand new Stuart Weitzman pumps she'd been coveting for a few weeks. Definitely not appropriate footwear for this type of work function. She digs the tiny first aid kit out of her toiletries bag, getting to work.

She barely registers the sound of the door opening a few moments later.

"Nadine?" Mike calls out, and she hears the soft thud of his briefcase hitting the floor.

"In here."

"What are you doing?" Mike's voice gets closer, and he finds her precariously balanced on the edge of the sink, her stockings in a heap on the floor, awkwardly trying to clean her bleeding feet without falling off the narrow counter. "What the hell happened?"

"Just a blister," Nadine winces as the antiseptic hits her skin. Twisted at such an awkward angle on the counter, she looks like a contortionist. "New shoes."

He notices her abandoned shoes on the floor, a pair he hadn't recognized that morning, with narrow high heels that look ridiculously impractical for a day of meetings. "Just a blister? It looks like you got into a fight with a weed wacker."

"It's really not that bad, Mike." Leaning over, she loses her balance and nearly falls off the counter, catching herself at the last minute.

"Jesus Christ, Nadine." Mike reaches out to steady her. "Let me help you. You're going to break your back trying to do this."

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of it myself," she brushes him aside without even a glance in his direction, but Mike firmly takes both of her wrists in one hand, pulling the bottle of antiseptic from her fingers with the other hand.

He tightens his hold on her wrists to get her attention. "I know you are capable, Nadine. I'm not saying you aren't capable. Just let me do it, before you bleed all over the floor and I have to tell your boss why you didn't make it home."

Inhaling sharply, she concedes. "Fine."

"Thank you. Now sit down on the floor and let me see."

He washes his hands at the sink. "Put your foot here," he taps his thigh, reaching for the towel she'd used to clean the blood off her battered ankles. "Jesus, Nadine. What the hell kind of shoes are these?" Mike dampens the towel with the antiseptic, then carefully presses it to her foot. She flinches at the contact. "Burns?"

"Just a bit." Nadine rests against the bathtub, leaning back and closing her eyes. It does feel good to just sit down for the first time all day.

"How long have you been wearing these shoes?" He squeezes some antiseptic cream from the small tube at her side, thumbing it over the first blister on her right foot before reaching for her left.

"Since this morning."

"Seems pretty stupid to me." Mike dabs her left foot with the antiseptic-laden towel. When she gives him a narrow stare, he continues. "It just seems pointless to wear such ridiculous shoes." He shakes his head and feigns disappointment.

"You know what else is pointless? Leaving 6 pages of directions for the dog sitter." She flinches again as Mike finishes cleaning off the wound on her foot. She's referring to an overheard conversation between mike and dog sitter from earlier.

"Actually, it was 10 pages, and hold still before you kick me in the face." Mike looks up from from the antiseptic cream, reaching for the band aids. " Gordon is rather high maintenance. I could have stretched it to 12 pages if I really wanted to."

With surprisingly practiced ease and unexpected tenderness, Mike puts the band aids over her now cleaned blisters. "All done," he says, offering her his hand to stand up. "You should probably change your shoes."

"Duly noted."

Things go south after dinner, which is a flatbread pizza, another bottle of wine (white this time), and some fried calamari at a small Italian place three blocks away with an outdoor balcony. It'd been surprisingly light and fun, with easy conversation and good food, with surprisingly no mention of the previous evening.

She's not exactly sure what's going on, but he doesn't push it, neither does she, and it works. Once they'd gotten back, they'd settled into a movie - Casablanca (her request, and he begrudgingly accepts), slowly gravitating towards each other when the opening credits roll. Her head rests on his shoulder, curled into his side. His leg is twisted with hers, his arm around her waist. It's familiar, and she won't deny it feels almost good to be next to him. They're forty minutes into the movie when it all falls apart.

"We could make it work, you know," he says almost wistfully. She's not sure if it was even meant for her ears. But she can't ignore it, and pauses Casablanca.

"What?" She hasn't misheard, but she needs to buy herself some time to gather her thoughts, to regain what little ground she has to stand on.

"You and me." He tightens his arm around her waist.

She sighs heavily. "We can't, Mike." She won't lie, the last few days have been a pleasant surprise. But it still doesn't shake the uneasy feeling that accompanies the thought of them.

He scoffs. "You always say that. Why not?"

"Look at what happened the first time."

"Yeah - you started accusing me of being a traitor," he says dryly. "But I'm still willing to try again. That should at least give me a brownie point or two." He undoes their tangled limbs and puts a few inches of space between them on the bed.

She rolls her eyes. This again. "To reiterate, I did not accuse you. I found information that, yes, could have been damaging to your career. I took said information to the secretary that was ultimately proven to be false. It was my job." She says the last two words slowly, evenly, as if he didn't understand. "We've been over this. More than once."

"No, we've been over the fact that you didn't trust me enough or care enough to just ask me about it instead of running right to Elizabeth." His tone mocks hers; he can play her game.

She knows he's partly right. By now, she sees that. She's tired of justifying herself and the choices she made. She regrets not going to him, not just asking him about EIL, because it was the impetus to their now ruined experiment, relationship, whatever it was. But what's done is done.

"Did you actually think it would have worked in the first place, Mike?"

Mike visibly stiffens as if he's been punched, his mouth pressing into a firm line. "I wanted it to." There's a heavy silence, and then he opens his mouth to speak again, then stops.

"What do you want to say, Mike?"

"Forget it." He swallows hard. "It's not worth it." He's hurt. She doesn't blame him, and before she can open her mouth to rectify any small piece of this mess, he throws the covers back, the sheets nearly slapping her in the face as he stalks out of the bed.

"Where are you going?"

"To take a cold shower." Without another word, he disappears into the bathroom, the slam of the door punctuating his angry footsteps. Nadine hears the creak of the faucet, the rush of the water. You messed up again, Nadine, her inner voice taunts her relentlessly. She pulls her knees to her chest, berating herself for screwing things up again. She hadn't wanted it to fail. But she didn't necessarily stop it from failing, either. So, they're both equally to blame.

An idea pops into her head, one she's even shocked at herself for considering. She's not even convinced it'd fix the situation at hand. She debates for a few seconds, hardly long enough to classify as actually thinking. And then, against her better judgment, she leaps out of the bed before she loses her wits.

She leaves her pajamas on the floor, momentarily questioning her sanity, then shoulders the door open. It slams into the wall with a loud bang.

"Jesus Christ, Nadine! Are you actually trying to kill me before this week is over?" Mike's head appears from behind the shower door, then his entire body comes into takes a moment before he realizes she's naked before him, and his eyes nearly bug out of his head."What the hell are you doing?" He unabashedly stares at her for several long moments, not even bothering to hide his growing erection.

"What does it look like?" With more boldness than she actually feels, Nadine crosses the bathroom in three steps, leaning on the open shower door. "Why don't you let me take care of that?" She reaches out and cups her hand around him, running her fingers along the sides of his erection. He twitches in her palm; she gives a gentle squeeze.

Mike gasps, his hips rocking against her hand, eyes closing. He steps back, bracing himself against the marble shower wall as Nadine sinks to her knees, the hot spray soaking her almost instantly. When her mouth closes around him, he groans loudly, clenching his fingers into her shoulder hard enough to bruise, pulling her closer to him.

It's been awhile since she's done this. Nadine takes her time, not in any hurry, lapping her tongue along the sides and tip of him, enjoying the process of relearning what makes him fall apart. From the sounds he's making above her, she knows she's doing a good job. She uses her tongue, alternating between soft licks and broad strokes, and Mike's eyes slam shut. From what she can hear, it sounds like he hit his head on the wall. She takes him deeper into her mouth, developing a rhythm, and his hand tightens on her upper arm. She can sense he's close.

"Nadine," he rolls his hips against her chin, "Fuck," he chokes out as her mouth slides back down over him again and again, "I'm going to -"

His whole body suddenly tenses before he finishes right into her mouth. Nadine pulls him closer to her and scratches her nails down his legs as he comes back down, and kisses the skin on his thighs. He's breathing heavily and cursing, and she smiles up at him from her position on the floor.

Mike loosens his grip on her now soaked hair, his legs unsteady beneath him. "Christ, Nadine," his words are choppy as his breathing returns to normal. "I - my God." He stops to gather his wits.

She glances up at him and winks demurely, rising to her feet. "Use your words, Mike." She stands just out of his reach.

"My turn," Mike shakes water out of his face and grabs for her almost greedily. He's already mentally planning all the ways he can make her come in the next ten minutes, right there in the shower. His eyes are clouded with lust.

"I think we've done enough for this evening," she murmurs, reaching for a towel and wringing her hair out with it, then wrapping it around her and stepping out of the shower. She stops and turns, looking back at him over her shoulder with disinterest. "Goodnight, Mike."

It takes him almost a full minute to realize she's gone.