A Wondrous Subtle Thing
Her thoughts are hazy and wandering, but they keep coming back to that one point of connection between them. Their hands, linked together. His hand. Nick's hand. A couple of his fingers are calloused and she wonders how a bartender gets callouses, but thinks it kind of suits him. But the rest of his hand is softer in comparison and warm. His palms sweat when he's nervous. He's not nervous now. He's comfortable like her. He's comfortable with her. She's drifting now, content in the knowledge that Nick Miller is holding her hand.
It's been a bad day. It started right in the morning, when they were out of milk, meaning Jess went without breakfast. Then she was irritable with her mother and ended the phone call on bad terms. Now she feels guilty and tired and work did nothing to soothe her mood. Her students aren't making the kind of progress she expected by now and she's frustrated that she hasn't found a way to more properly motivate them.
She just wants a break, but even after work there's not one to be found. Because Schmidt's been working overtime lately, leaving less time for him to clean up, and Winston and Nick still apparently don't know how to wash a dish. She tries to ignore it. It's their problem, or Schmidt's problem later but...the sink is starting to smell and she can't handle that. So she gets to work scrubbing dishes and cringing her nose at the sight of the last of the milk apparently curdled overnight in one of the cereal bowls.
It's just when she's finished them all that Winston and Nick come home together, carting fast food bags from Pete's, that burger place a few blocks down. "Hey Jess, glad you're ho-"
She rounds on them both with a glare, then focuses it on Nick. "How is it," she asks, "that you guys don't even cook and still manage to make all those dishes?"
They both look positively taken aback. Nick gulps. Winston stutters out, "Ah, well this seems like a couple fight right? So yeah. I'll just. Eat in my room. Yeah." And he walks away to do just that, abandoning Nick to Jess's mercy.
Nick manages to stand his ground, and do so with more concern than annoyance. "What's wrong, Jess?" he asks.
She's a big believer in sharing feelings, but right now she just doesn't have the energy to explain the badness of this day to him. She huffs a sigh and deflates. "I guess I'm just tired."
His sincere look of sympathy softens her slightly, and she feels bad for snapping at him. "Okay," Nick says. "Just get comfortable on the couch, maybe put on one of your movies? Let me take care of the rest."
She has no idea what "the rest" actually entails because she was planning on curling up on the couch anyway. How he gets to look like the hero for suggesting it doesn't really make sense to her. But she obliges because she really is too tired to fight and maybe a little hormonal. She really could use a chick flick right now and he's given her reign over the television without a fight. That's a win in her book.
She picks Pretty Woman and sets it up in the DVD player, then folds herself onto the couch, scrunching in by the right armrest. In all the bustle, she hadn't even noticed that Nick had left the room until he returns carrying one of her blankets and a pillow. He tosses both in her direction and she smiles. "Thank you, Nick."
He smiles back. "Best is yet to come." he says. "Close your eyes, Jess."
"I...okay." she says, deciding to trust him.
She closes her eyes and now all she can hear is the low volume of the movie starting and Nick bustling around in the kitchen. He opens the fridge, he closes it. He opens the cabinet, closes it, and something clatters loudly to the ground. He curses.
"Umm, Nick did something break? Should I open my eyes now?"
"No! Just give me a second, Jess!"
She trusts him. Seriously, she does. And a few seconds later there's suddenly a waft of food aroma at her nose and he says, "Open 'em."
She does and sees the plate of food he's holding out for her. It's a chicken sandwich and fries, and she knows just where it came from. "You thought to get me something from Pete's?" she asks, genuinely surprised. She hadn't even been home at the time they'd gone out for food.
"No tomatoes, right?" he asks. "I always forget if it's no tomatoes or no pickles."
Her smile is so wide it actually kind of hurts her face. "It's no tomatoes," she says, and grabs a hold of his shirt to pull him down into a kiss. It's their first kiss since before she left for work this morning and for a moment, it completely eases her.
Then he pulls away and hands her the plate of food. She notices now that not only did he arrange the food very carefully on the plate, he also made a smiley face design out of ketchup. It makes her laugh and look up to see that his crooked smile matches that of Ketchup Face.
Nick settles in beside her, eating his burger and fries straight from the bag. He sneaks under her blanket too, and she loves feeling his warmth at her side. She scarfs down her food relatively quickly as they watch the movie together; she hadn't even realized how hungry she was. Then she's full and warm and content. The exact right combination to allow sleep to settle in. Somewhere in a haze of half-consciousness, she feels him take her hand beneath the blanket.
His fingers are salty from his fries, his fingers are calloused. His palm is soft and warm and dry. Their fingers linked together, that one point of connection between them. She's drifting now, content in the knowledge that Nick Miller is holding her hand.
A/N: Wanted to switch it up a little with more story and a little less introspection. Also, title of this chapter comes from a quote from Sherlock Holmes about holding hands with someone. I don't feel like writing it all out here, but it's very sweet. Reviews greatly appreciated as always.