11: Jealous (SPOILER ALERT: Not about plot, though, and some of you have guessed it anyway, but have some buffer space just in case.)
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Bobby rolled over slowly, only half-aware, languidly slipping an arm to the other side of the bed. He found it cold and empty. His eyes snapped open at the same time he heard an engine roar outside and fade quickly away.
She'd left.
Stupid.
Too fast, that's what it had to be. They'd only been seeing each other for a little over three months, in that sorta-official everybody-knows way. In the back of his mind Bobby had been afraid of this, that no matter how mature she acted, she was still only twenty-one.
Crap. Was it me, did I push her? Scare her off? Way, way too fast, you idiot--
"So how do you like your eggs?"
Nic stood in the bedroom door, wearing only one of his Air Force t-shirts, the heather-grey garment reaching clear down to mid-calf, holding a spatula in one hand.
"I can do scrambled and... scrambled, so sky's the limit..." She paused, cocked her head to one side. "What's that look for?"
Bobby hastily schooled his features into the appropriate 'yeah, I'm sexy, you wanna make something of it?' expression. "What look?"
"You had a look just then."
"Wasn't a look."
Nic slowly grinned. "You thought I left."
"Did not."
"You thought I slunk off. You were getting all wibbly."
"The hell is wibbly?"
"Like a prime-time melodrama. Oh, Bobby." With a flourish of the spatula, she pivoted on her heel and pranced back into the kitchen, laughing. "You ought to know me better by now!"
Bobby was out of bed and following the flash of pale bare legs before he'd realized he was moving. "Oh, come on, you weren't in bed..."
"I find your lack of faith disturbing."
"I find your lack of pants distracting."
Nic threw him an arch look over her shoulder. "Breakfast or a tumble, which is it going to be?"
"I gotta pick one?"
"You seriously thought I'd tiptoed away."
"I heard Whiplash go zoomin' off." Bobby tried in vain to defend himself. "Figured you had to be on 'im."
"Whip?" Nic frowned, egg poised over a mixing bowl. She padded over to her backpack, which was sitting on one of the kitchen barstools where she'd dumped it the evening before, and dug her cell phone out. "Huh. He didn't leave a message. You sure it was him?"
"That engine's got a distinct noise, baby."
She parted the blinds and peered out to where her partner had been parked. "That he does. And he is gone. I hope it's not an emergency..."
"We both would've gotten calls if it was."
"True. Must've gotten bored." Nic returned to the bowl and picked up the egg again. "How many you want?"
"Three." Bobby crossed to the refrigerator and took out a block of cheddar. "Look over in the pantry, I think I have a bell pepper. We can do omelettes."
"A fine ass and he can cook. I'm keeping you." She found the requested pepper and turned to regard him thoughtfully, hand on one hip, glossy green pepper in the other. Her smile softened. "I wouldn't have left, Bobby. Not like that."
He looked down at the bowl, concentrating on whipping the eggs into a fine yellow froth. "I did kinda panic. For like a split second. But that's it. I got burned a couple times, and..." A vague shrug. "Thought maybe I'd pushed you too fast."
"Oh, believe me, if I'd had any doubts about what happened last night, you would have known it."
This was true. Nicole Darling didn't let people push her.
Depositing the pepper on the counter, she slipped her arms around his waist from behind, worming partway under an arm. "I don't give it away. Not unless I mean it. And..."
Was it his imagination, or was her face against his ribs getting warmer?
"You were the first I meant it with."
The fork dropped out of his hand, vanishing into the eggs. He looked down, and sure enough, she was blushing, yet still meeting his eyes in that direct way she had despite the shy admission.
"Seriously?"
"Uh huh."
He turned, drawing her into his arms. "And you're okay with that."
"I'm still here, aren't I?" The blush was fading, her tone back to that note of a playful dare. That was one of the reasons he couldn't keep his mind off her. She was so unlike the girls he'd thought himself attracted to-- svelte, tall, feminine. Nic was feminine, yes, but there was little delicacy about her. Athletically toned and small, she radiated a challenge to everything around her. Strong and unafraid to show that strength.
Moreover, she understood him and what he did. It wasn't just the shared secret of the Autobots, but the fact that she'd willingly thrown herself into this war, her only given reason a refreshingly modest "I just did what I had to do." She was a soldier, in her own uniform and her only rank being partner, but a soldier, just like him. Most of the women he'd dated seriously in the past had either been put off by the military aspect or just didn't get it.
The eggs were promptly forgotten.
She practically had to climb him like a tree to kiss him standing, but she offered no complaint. Hands roved freely, and he was pulling the oversized t-shirt up, part of him determined to find out in daylight if the freckles really were everywhere...
"Again?"
Bobby had just enough time to wonder how the hell the robot had opened the sliding patio door without them noticing before his foot moved into a dribble of egg slime that had somehow missed the bowl and counter, and that was how they both wound up tangled on the floor, and not in the fun way.
"Whiplash!" Nic's voice had jumped to some ultrasonic octave. Bobby started laughing.
"You are initiating the fluid exchange procedure again?" The robot asked, crouched in the opening, looking for all the world like some giant blue cricket with his long legs folded, knees sticking out. "Were the actions of last night unsuccessful?"
"No! I mean yes-- oh for-- were you scanning us?!" Nic fumbled to her feet.
And damn if the robot didn't sound downright annoyed. "I was concerned when your biosigns showed distress. You neglected to mention that you were planning to engage in mating activities."
"We didn't plan-- Bobby, if you don't stop laughing--"
Whiplash coolly eyed Bobby, who still sat snickering on the floor against the cupboard. "I would advise against repeating it. Sergeant Epps is obviously incapacitated."
"Now hang on a second," Bobby protested, until from his vantage point he saw Nic's ears turn bright red. "Well, you were really good..." he added, unable to resist.
"I am not having this discussion." Nic's words were muffled from behind her hands. "Not here, not now."
"Should we have it then back at base?" Whiplash queried pointedly, "or shall I return by myself?"
"Oh, Whip." Nic shook her head and approached the robot, gently rapping a knuckle against a shiny blue cheek. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to leave you out there all night, but... the activity can be a little intense. And it just kind of happened, we didn't plan on it."
"Sergeant Epps' peaking pheromone levels disagree." Whiplash held up a hand to forestall the inevitable protest. "I need no scan to sense that. My atmospheric sensors are keyed very high."
"Ain't the only thing that's high-strung," Bobby commented under his breath, getting up.
Nic sighed loudly. "Hey, don't be like that. Both of you. C'mon, Whip, Bobby'n I still need to get dressed and finish breakfast, but I'll come back with you. It won't take too long. I promise."
Mollified, the robot retreated, folding and compacting into his alternate mode without standing up, backing away from the patio. Nic slid the door shut and turned around, shaking her head.
"My space robot is jealous," she said, as if the situation were entirely too absurd to be true.
Her cell phone chirped a particular four-note chime. Bobby got to it first, flipping it open to read the text message. And he promptly burst into laughter again, holding the phone high out of Nic's reach as she tried to snatch it back from him.
'DOES THIS MEAN YOU ARE INCUBATING PROGENY?'
Author's Note 5.19.08: This takes place in the early bits of the second story. This was interesting to write, given that I haven't yet done anything from Bobby's point of view. And if Whip seems a little like he's got sand in his gears, it's because at this time frame some rather stressful things are happening. That, and he's still a little weirded-out with humans' tendency to throw schedule and structure blithely to the four winds.
Wisdom tooth pain kept me from writing much this week. I'm going to have it looked at in the next couple days. I just hope they're not impacted, or it'll get expensive.
