*5*
"I fell asleep."
Michael was pulled from his own drowsiness by Nikita's throaty voice. His arms full of her he kissed his answer against her temple, "You did."
"I'm sorry."
"Why? You needed it."
"You can't be comfortable like this", she said, referring to his shoulders pressed against the steel of the bed frame as she sat up straight, relieving his upper back of her added weight.
"I'm sure you'll make it up to me", he said lightly while stretching his back, working out a kink between his shoulder blades.
She laid her hand against his jaw and kissed him softly, the other coming up underneath his arm to travel along his side up his back to come to rest on one mildly abused shoulder. "Nikita…"
"I can't believe you're really here", she confessed.
He took her mouth in another lingering kiss, "I can't believe you didn't kick me out last night." They both grinned at each other, keeping things light.
"We're a fine pair", Nikita bantered.
"Hmm, we definitely are", he breathed against her lips and then he tickled her side causing her to squirm.
"Ticklish?", he smirked as his other hand joined the first, teasing her mercilessly and enjoying every second of it.
"Michael!", she grabbed his hands, trying to stop him unsuccessfully and dissolving into giggles. She tried to wriggle out of his grasp and when that didn't work either she went for a counter attack. As it turned out Michael was either not very ticklish himself or she didn't manage to find the right spot. He was laughing right along with her though, thoroughly amused by her attempts to tickle him while at the same time trying to escape his clever fingers.
They were having fun. Together. It had been a long time for both of them.
Since Nikita wasn't one to give up or back down from a fight - even if it was just a play fight, it didn't come as a surprise to Michael that she eventually did find his weak spot and exploited it fully. Her fingers traveled up his ribs until she felt him twitch ever so slightly. Nikita attacked with gusto and soon both of them were slightly out of breath and in danger of tumbling off the bed. Michael was the first to cease his tickling assault, lifting up his hands beside his head, "Give".
Nikita smiled victoriously and slid her arms around him, brushing his lips with hers. Michael's arms wrapped around her of their own accord and he rested his forehead against hers, unable to wipe the smile from his face at seeing the carefree and happy look on hers.
"What do I get for winning?", she asked him.
"I can think of a few things." Michael raised his eyebrows suggestively. He splayed his hands across her back, one moving down and one moving up, using both of them to bring her closer to him.
"And what would those be?", Nikita asked innocently, playing along. She trailed her fingers over his sides and up his chest, tantalising him with her featherlight caress.
In answer Michael touched his lips to hers, softly nipping at them before darting out his tongue, begging entrance. Nikita's hands came up to frame his face as she granted it, kissing him back with fervor. Her breath hitched in her chest and her heart skipped a beat as he explored her mouth at his leisure. One thing was sure, Nikita thought as she tilted her head a little, doing a little more exploring herself, the man could kiss. Boy, could he kiss, she could live on one of his kisses. She made a little noise in the back of her throat and felt Michael smile triumphantly against her lips.
"Something like this?" It took her a second to catch on to the fact that he was continuing their teasing conversation. She closed her eyes, smiling back, "Maybe. What else did you have in mind?"
"Quite a few things actually", his next kiss was full of promise, "But maybe we should eat first. Wouldn't want you to go hungry." Nikita raised an elegantly shaped eyebrow at his teasing remark, but decided he was right. They had the whole night and all of tomorrow to be together and there was more she wanted to share with him than just her bed.
"Let's go fix ourselves some dinner then", she said taking one of his hands and pulling him off the bed after her. Michael tugged at her hand and pulled her back to him, catching her in a sweet embrace and kissing her one last time before they went off in search for food, hands still locked together.
Later that night Michael and Nikita found themselves up on the roof of the loft. Bundled up in their coats, they sat atop a thick woolen blanket, another blanket covering them both to fight of the cold. Nikita sat between Michael's spread legs, one arm covering one of his resting over her stomach. They'd brought up the bottle of cabernet they'd opened during dinner and a couple of glasses to enjoy the rest of the wine underneath the stars.
Nikita took a sip from hers and sank a little further into Michael's warmth as she felt a pleasant drowsiness come over her. They'd prepared themselves a nice pasta, working side by side exchanging glances and the occasional lingering touch as if they had been doing this for years. Nikita had once again been somewhat amazed at how comfortably they fell into step with each other, just like she'd been that morning, only now it didn't fill her with that panicky feeling of insecurity anymore like it had then. Courtesy of their last conversation this afternoon.
She heard Michael's glass making contact with the concrete as he put it down. "Do you remember that little Italian place we ended up in after the Black Swan Op?", he asked her.
She turned her head a little to look at him, the corners of her mouth lifting in a reminiscent smile, "You mean the one with the furious cook?"
"Yeah."
"How could I not remember…? I'll never forget the look on your face when he started shouting at me for wanting to 'butcher' his menu. For a second I thought you were going to cause him grievous bodily harm."
"Oh, I was tempted…"
The Black Swan Op had been pretty straight forward. They were to investigate a prima ballerina suspected of extra curricular activities threatening national security. Because she was high profile, they had gone undercover and posed as newlywed patrons of the ballet. Straight forward as it may have seemed, nothing went smoothly on that Op, the ballerina turned out to be a Gogol asset and they'd had no choice but to neutralise her quick and dirty. Someone had then tipped off the police, so there hadn't been time for damage control. To top it all off, the media had been all over it in no time at all. So by the time Percy had been done chewing Michael out when he'd phoned in to inform him of the situation and Percy had not so kindly informed Michael to arrange for their own transportation back to Division as everyone was now too busy cleaning up after them, Michael had had steam coming out of his ears. His patience was tested further when it turned out all commercial flights had been delayed or cancelled because of a strike which left them with only one option: a twenty hour drive.
The first leg of their trip was mostly spent in silence. Michael had taken the driver's seat muttering about bad intel and hating the ballet and Nikita had thought it best to just leave him be. He'd calmed down at about the same time as they'd crossed state lines. When he broke the silence it was to ask her if she was hungry and that's how they ended up in a little restaurant on the outskirts of a big city. Apparently it was run by an Italian family who had never heard of or cared for vegetarian dishes because there weren't any on the menu.
Nikita had asked the waiter for an adapted version of a dish they did serve, whom in turn told her he would have to consult with the cook. Apparently the cook wasn't particularly charmed by her request and he'd let her know in no uncertain terms when he came to their table. Going on about not carefully putting together a recipe only to have it taken apart by 'yuppies', Nikita saw Michael's patience wearing dangerously thin and knew she had to do something if she wanted a chance at food that night. So she had downcast her eyes, blinking rapidly as if she was about to burst into tears and made up some bogus story about them being on their honeymoon, about actually wanting to spend it in Italy but having no money to cross the Atlantic. She had fiddled with the wedding ring still on her finger from the mission as she delivered her speech in a timid voice and when she looked up at the cook again, tears shimmering in her dark eyes, he had deflated right before her. "I will fix you something", he'd said, heavily accented and turned on his heel back into the kitchen. And he had, presenting her with the most delicious ravioli she had ever had and a complimentary bottle of chianti only fifteen minutes later.
"It's still the best ravioli I ever tasted", Nikita remembered, smiling.
"Hmm", Michael's mouth twisted into a something between a smile and a grimace as he thought back, "Befitting of your Oscar worthy performance for him. He spent the rest of the night trying to make it up to you."
Nikita laughed at that and took another sip of her wine. She kissed his jaw after she sat down her empty glass next to his, "You were jealous."
"He did a complete 180! First he was the epitome of rude yelling at you and then he tried flattering you in every which way to get in your good graces. A married woman's good graces."
Nikita laughed again, "I didn't hear you complain when he brought out that limoncello dessert."
Michael smirked involuntarily, "No, that was very good."
"Besides I wasn't Division's go to honey trap for any old reason", her voice trailed away.
Michael swallowed. They were having a nice time remembering, he didn't want Division's use or abuse of her to cast a shadow over it, "Or maybe he just saw a beautiful woman with light in her eyes and warmth in her voice and realised he'd been an absolute ass to her for no reason at all and wanted to try and make amends?" He replied softly, his words tickling her ear.
She turned her head and stared at him, losing herself in his gaze and then their lips met in a fleeting kiss.
"It was a good night", she said softly and then tucked her other arm beneath the blanket too, caressing the top of his hand that was drawing lazy circles on her clothed stomach.
"It was", Michael agreed, wrapping his other arm around her and nuzzling her hair.
They sat like that for a bit, both quietly thinking back on days gone by. Michael was first in breaking their silence. His breath was a whisper over her ear as he made sure she wasn't getting cold. She wasn't. Wrapped up in a blanket and his arms as she was, she thought she could have happily stayed there forever. Safe and warm. Their hands beneath the blanket engaged in an intricate dance, fingers sliding and stroking against each other. Nikita turned a bit in his embrace and tilted her face towards his for another kiss. He was only too happy to oblige.
Mouths nipping and tasting, their tongues dueling, while their hands caressed each other, made the heat between them flare up again instantly. Nikita twisted sideways a bit as Michael's other hand cupped her jaw, angling her face to deepen their kiss. Her free hand found it's way underneath Michael's coat. She pulled his shirt free from his trousers just enough to be able to slip her hand through the opening and touch bare skin. Michael sucked in a breath at the feeling of her nimble fingers stroking up his flank to trace the skin across his ribs and then dipping down to his waistband again, her short nails scratching him lightly when they hooked behind it.
Their hands ceased the stimulating dance they were in, Nikita's to curl around his neck, Michael's to unsuccessfully try and touch more of her through her down coat. He made a frustrated noise at not being able to touch her as he wanted to because of the thickness of the garment and Nikita broke their kiss slipping her hand from beneath his clothes. "Maybe we should continue this inside?", she suggested in a low tone.
