A/N: Sorry for the delay. Life got busy, then I lost motivation and inspiration and it took awhile to get it back. Last night's ep helped a bit though. Hopefully I'll have a couple more chapters coming in the next few weeks and then find a nice place to wrap it up. Happy Holidays, everyone!

A Nick Miller Interlude

After a particularly long game of True Americans, once they're both well beyond inebriated and giggly and have broken off from the group to engage in another kind of fun entirely, he tells her that he thinks her eyes "are the prettiest things about her."

And then he shakes his head a little, tries to form words his brain is too slow to process right now. "I mean, like all of you is pretty. So it's not a bad thing. I mean you've got your boo-" he gestures vaguely to her chest, "and all of that," he waves a hand in front of her face, "and the whole thing," he gestures to all of her, then mimes his head exploding. "But your eyes. First thing I noticed about you, Jess. Just, the prettiest things."

She recognizes somewhere in her mind that the words are wonderfully sweet, that there's something significant in the fact that he's thinking about her eyes when she's already got her shirt off, but the alcohol is in her blood and her temperature is up and she's beyond words now. She wants those lips on hers, wants to be kissed senseless, wants every part of him. So she lets the thought slide to the back of her mind, pulls him to her by his shirt and kisses him roughly and messily until they're both tangled together and absolutely incoherent.

She wakes up to a pounding headache and a large glass of water on her bedside table. She reaches for it automatically and takes a large swig of it before turning to look back at Nick. He's awake beside her, just watching her as casually as anything. "How you feeling, Jess?" he asks, a little smile tugging at the corner of his lips. They both drank about the same amount last night, but since he's a guy and has also built up a tolerance over the years, he's definitely managing to bounce back better than she is today. "Been better. Been worse," she assures him. "Thank you for the water, though."

"No problem," he tells her, brushing strands of hair out of her face. She instinctively moves closer in bed, enjoying the cozy warmth radiating off of him beneath the covers.

"How are you?" she asks.

"It'd take a lot more than that to keep Nick Miller down for long." he says, "But...let's keep the lights off for awhile, okay?"

She laughs and he just looks at her, looks at her, and she sees it in his eyes. They still haven't said it yet, but she knows how special she is, to have Nick Miller look at her like that. This morning, she has no doubts about the way he feels for her, or the way she feels for him. This morning, they're in love. And it's all in his eyes.

Eyes.

She recollects it through a haze of heat and fuzziness, pushes past the memories of dreams and skin against skin, back to when they were stumbling into her room and losing clothes along the way. He said...

"Did you mean what you said last night?" she asks suddenly.

He squints at her. "I'm sorry, Jess, you're gonna have to refresh my memory." he admits.

"That my eyes were the first things you noticed about me," she reminds him. "And something about them being my prettiest feature?"

He groans a little. "Ugh, I've become such a girl..."

"Niiick," she pleads, still waiting for an answer.

"Okay, yes. But if Schmidt or Winston asks, it was all about your boobs."

"Why?"

"Well—I have a reputation as a-"

"Not that," she interrupts impatiently, "Why did you notice my eyes?"

"Oh. I don't know. I just thought they were so...like a color I didn't even have a name for really, and I thought that was awesome. And then they also kinda convinced me you were crazy..."

"Um, what?" she asks, unsure whether or not she should be offended. "My eyes make me look crazy?"

"Well, mostly just back then," he assures her. "You were fresh off your break up with that loser whats-his-face-"

"Spence-"

"I remember his name, Jess, I just like referring to him as that loser whats-his-face," he interrupts, and she nods as though that's fair. "Anyway, you were all sad and a little obsessive at the time, so yeah. Just a bit crazy."

"Gee, thanks."

"Hey! I'm not done yet. Your eyes are – you know, I could do this better if I was still drunk," he says wistfully, but he continues because he really is learning to express himself in his own Nick way. "I could also see how nice you were, and warm, and sincere, and crazy and dorky and everything that makes you Jess." he says, and he nearly says my Jess, but doesn't. Not yet. "And it's all right there. All in your eyes."

Jess is swept in by him, and silently marvels at the layers of their relationship. Last night was about touch and sensation and chemistry, and today it's about the words and the feelings and the morning spent comfortably next to each other. Together in a hundred different ways that all fit just right. "...And Schmidt and Winston really don't know how sweet you actually are?" she teases.

"Sweet," he scoffs lightly, readjusting himself in bed. "I am not sweet. I'm rugged. A manly man, Jess."

She giggles. "Sure, Nick."

He wraps an arm over her and she scoots even closer, and though she knows they should be getting up about now, she half wonders if it'd be completely unreasonable to stay here with him all day. "You know what, Nick?" she mumbles against his chest.

"Hmm?" he asks, and she can tell that he too is overwhelmed by the comfort of their bed and each other and not at all inclined to start the morning just yet.

"I noticed your eyes first too."

A beat, a casual smirk, and his arm wrapping more tightly around her: "Pretty sure you mean my boobs, Jess. That's our story and we're sticking to it."