"I thought you would've grown out of this by now," Nikita says, walking into the living room of the safe house. She shrugs out of her leather jacket and folds it over her arm.
"Well, you know. Some things just never change," Alex replies. She uncrosses her legs and stands, tightening the belt on her short silk robe. It's a pretty one too; black with a large cherry blossom tree printed on the right side.
"Well, your technique has changed." Nikita gestures with her right hand to the indoor picnic that's been set up in the middle of the living room. The coffee table has been pushed forward and rests underneath the large, plasma screen TV. The long red couch, love seat, recliners and ottomans have all been moved to the outskirts of the room and the Kevlar blinds are pulled shut.
"I'm adapting to changing circumstances." Alex moves forward until she's standing directly in front of Nikita. "I can take that for you," she says, reaching out a hand. Nikita passes her the jacket, giving her a knowing look in the process.
Alex ignores it, of course.
"What changing circumstances?"
"I've got your favorites," Alex calls over her shoulder. She's back by the front door, hanging Nikita's jacket in the shared closet. Nikita scans the large spread of food, or rather pastries, spread out on a black tablecloth laid out on the floor. Cupcakes, cookies, chocolates, muffins, donut holes, strudels and, both red and white wine.
Nikita cocks an eyebrow. "My favorite is a veggie shake." When Alex walks past again, she scrunches up her face like the little kid she still is on the inside. Nikita laughs.
"Veggie shakes aren't sexy."
"Neither is cellulite."
Alex scoffs, self-consciously tugging at the hem of her robe. Nikita stops herself from reaching out a hand to stop her, stops herself from opening up her mouth to reassure her. She almost makes the mistake of telling her she's gorgeous.
But instead she folds her arm against her chest and asks: "What is this Alex?"
"It's not a seduction if that's what you're thinking. It's a...a...friendly dinner." Alex flashes her a smile, that smile, that probably got her everything she wanted as a kid.
"Then where are the boys?" Nikita asks, speaking of Michael and Birkhoff.
"They're having a guys' night out."
"What a coincidence, Alex." Of course she doesn't believe her. Her tone of voice implies that. Alex looks up from where she's crouching on the ground, straightening the various plates and dishes. When she stands up again, she's holding a bottle of wine and two glasses in her hands. She paddles barefoot into the kitchen area, and Nikita follows, though maintaining a distance between them.
"Nikita, are you implying something?" She asks sweetly.
"I'm implying that you've only been back for six days and you've already got them wrapped up in this mess."
"Hey," Alex snaps. "It's not a mess. I baked every one of those pastries from scratch."
"Remember the last time you did this? When we talked about the fucked up priorities? I think they're coming back into play."
Alex rolls her eyes, filling the glass to the rim with the champagne colored liquid. "That whole conversation was over a year and a half ago. No point in bringing it up."
"You say it like you're embarrassed."
Alex sets the full glass down on the counter and fills the next one. "I was just a kid then, I was...I went about things the wrong way," she shrugs. She extends her arm, offering up a glass of wine.
"You're still a kid, honey. Nineteen isn't an adult. And you shouldn't even be drinking."
"I'm Russian Nikita. Trust me, I can hold my liquor."
"Wait. 'I went about things the wrong way' Is that what you meant when you said you were adapting to changing circumstances?"
Alex only smiles at her, taking a sip from the glass Nikita rejected. She didn't really expect an answer; that's not how Alex works.
She comes around the counter and grabs Nikita by the hand, pulling her back towards the living room.
"How exactly did you get the guys out the house?"
"Everybody loves lesbians," Alex shrugs.
Nikita groans and suppresses the impulse to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Tell me you didn't use the actual 'L' word."
"Oh, so people actually use that term?"
"I have a feeling if I say the actual word around you, a tornado is going to strike in some foreign part of the world."
"Ha ha." she says dryly. They stop walking when they get to the edge of the table cloth.
"So, you told them. About all of this?" Nikita says, eyes glancing at the food, then at Alex.
"All of what? Nothing's happened. Yet." She adds smiling.
"Nothing is going to happen, Alex."
"Stop being stubborn." Nikita's not really sure how it happens, but she ends up sitting crossed legged, on the carpet, next to Alex.
The younger woman reaches forward to grab a plate of cupcakes, exaggerating the effort to no doubt show off her rear. It's such a ridiculous action that Nikita finds herself snorting back a laugh.
"What?" Alex questions, a little too innocently.
"You're transparent." Nikita replies, mocking her tone of voice.
"Chocolate, vanilla, strawberry or lemon?" The red plate floats underneath Nikita's nose and the only reason she plucks one off is to make it go away. She's not really one for sweets. Or seductions.
Alex plucks off a lemon one and uncurls her legs. "So one year. And a half."
"Long time."
"So what happened?"
"What do you mean?"
"Last time I was living with you, you weren't exactly the poster child for domestic lifestyles." Eighteen months. That's how long it'd been since Alex's insertion into Division. Since they'd live together, since they were friends.
Alex had only been back with the team-which now consisted of Nikita, Michael and Birkhoff-for six days, and Nikita had yet to fill her in on the missing links.
"I'm still not, not really," Nikita shakes her head. It's a nice little thing they have, but it still didn't feel like home, not just yet. She looks down at the cupcake in her hand. It's chocolate, with a pink icing heart drawn on the top of the vanilla spread. Despite her attempts not to, she smiles.
"Really, Alex? A heart?"
"Hearts also represent friendship."
Nikita raises an eyebrow.
"Shut up. Just taste it."
"You know I hate sweets."
"You're a freak, I know." she says separating the paper cup from her own pastry. She takes a bite out of the cake, getting icing on the corner of her mouth.
"I think I'll stick to wine," Nikita says, setting her own cupcake down beside her. Alex beams at her. "I'm drinking to endure this, Alex. Not because I'm falling for it."
"Falling for what?" she asks, wiping her face clean. She uncurls and stretches her legs, and when she does, a little more thigh peeks out from underneath her robe.
"What are you wearing underneath that robe, Alex?"
Her reply isn't verbal, but physical. She sits up on her knees and unties the belt. The silk piece falls to the floor without noise and Alex is left kneeling, nearly naked.
"I know red is your favorite color, but blue is mine." She gestures to the lingerie; a lacy, baby blue bralett and matching-transparent-boy shorts. It's a nice combination; Alex and the color, that is. The color of the lingerie emphasizes her eye color, painting them a darker, nearly impossible shade of blue. And the bright color looks great; a perfect contrast to her pale skin and dark hair.
The smile Alex gives her is almost shy. "The back is my favorite, it's the reason why I brought it. I usually go for the darker colors." Alex, turns around and pulls her long brown locks over her shoulder, completely exposing her back. The back of the bralett is a corset, the sides of the bra held together by a thin, blue ribbon that's tied off in a neat bow. The bralett ends at the waist, showing off a nice amount of creamy white skin that tapers off into her backside, which admittedly looked more...rounded, in the boy shorts.
"What do you think?" Alex asks, peeking at her over her shoulder.
"I think you look gorgeous, as always." No point in lying to the girl.
"So you like it?" She sounds stunned, and the small, incredulous smile she flashes makes Nikita forget everything, just for a second. "I thought you'd just ignore it, like last time." she finishes, shrugging.
"I didn't ignore it. You were seventeen." Alex turns forward again, stretching out her legs. She doesn't bother with the robe again, and though she'd never admit it, Nikita is glad. Alex shoots her a knowing smile.
"What?"
"Amanda was right about you; 'Nikita the Saint.'" Alex shakes her head.
"When did she say that?"
"When I was at Division the second time around. She's completely fucked herself, but she's never been wrong about other people."
"Why were you two talking about me?"
"Because everyone's world revolves around you, Nikki."
"Ha ha."
"Well, mine sort of does." Alex shrugs, and for a moment Nikita gets a glimpse of her shyness. Nikita looks down into the wineglass in her hand, the light colored liquid gently swishing back and forth against the transparent walls of the glass.
"What else did she say?"
"About you? A lot, actually. I think you were her favorite patient." Nikita gives her a look. "I'm actually not joking. You came up quite a lot."
"And..." Nikita takes a sip of wine, enjoying the cool, tangy taste of a drink she hasn't had in a long time. "…what was said about me?"
Alex smirks. "She was my therapist, Nikita. Doctor-patient confidentiality? It exists for a reason." She reaches for her own glass of wine, this time not sexualizing the act.
"Sorry, it's just you've got everything else out in the open right now, so I just figured..." Nikita trails off, smirking.
Alex scoffs, looking down at her body. "It's not...out in the open. This is...tasteful!"
"Lingerie on a nineteen year old is not tasteful, it's unnecessary. You don't need it."
"Ooh," Alex says, finally getting it. "You're one of those people." She shakes her head. "I should've guessed that the first time around."
"One of those kinds of people?" Nikita asks, taking another, longer sip of wine. "Usually when people say that it's followed up by something racist."
"It has nothing to do with race. It's just that some people like embellishments; you know, lingerie, make-up, heels, jewelry and perfume."
"And the others?"
"Some just like skin. No clothes, no underwear, just skin. It's kind of like a kink, except it's not creepy."
"It breaks my heart that you know about kinks already."
"You know if you keep acting like my mom, this is going to get really creepy, really fast." It was a mistake to bring up her mother. Only six days have passed since the big revelation, and Nikita can tell by Alex's expression that the wounds are still fresh. She reaches out a hand and runs it up and down the younger woman's arm, trying for a soothing gesture.
"So, how are you doing with that?
Alex shrugs and takes a sip from her wineglass. "I'm fine."
"You know, your age isn't the only reason you shouldn't be drinking." Nikita doesn't have to say the word. It's hanging in the air; addiction. "When you've already had one, it's-"
"-easy to form another. I know, Amanda gave me the same speech. It's nothing I don't already know."
"You're an adult now. You can make you own decisions."
"I'm okay, Nikita." She shoots her a reassuring smile and sets the glass down. "At least in that department."
"And the others?"
"Are ones I really don't want to talk about."
There's a silence between them. Whether it lasts for seconds or minutes is unknown to Nikita. She breaks it first, only after finishing the last of her wine. "You know, that's why we can't do this, Alex."
"Why not?" Nikita looks into her eyes and sees a sadness, deep and aching and she knows it's reflected in her own eyes.
"Because of you. And your past. Your family. Everything that happened after that night." Nikita stops and runs a hand through her hair. "Everything that's my fault."
It's a while before Alex responds. "You know, this is exactly what Amanda was talking about. Saint Nikita, rearing her pretty head again." It makes Nikita smile. How Alex always managed to throw in a compliment was beyond her.
"What are you talking about," she questions, trying to sound annoyed.
"Saint Nikita. Always making the decisions for other people. Always taking the blame for things you can never change. She said it's because you care too much about people, because you never want them to hate themselves as much as you hate yourself. She thinks that, that's the whole reason you're doing this crusade. Not for revenge, not for right and wrong, but for redemption."
For once, Nikita fully understands why people yell at their therapists; why they have temper tantrums and why they eventually avoid the sessions altogether. It's because the therapist is always right.
Nikita doesn't know what to say, so she says nothing at all. It's hard hearing the truth about yourself, and it's not easier when it's something you've been running from for nearly a decade.
"I don't blame you, Nikita, not for anything." Sometime during the last few minutes, Alex inched closer to her. She knows this without looking up because when she speaks, her voice is right next to her ear. The smell of her perfume-sweet and tangy, something that reminds Nikita of spring and beaches-is the only thing Nikita is aware of. "You saved my life, Nikki."
Alex didn't understand. Maybe she never would. "Alex...you don't get it. You were a sex slave. You were raped, every day for years, okay? You were abused and mistreated and you had a heroin addiction, you were a prostitute and...and you tried to kill yourself." Nikita pulls her knees to her chest and covers her face with her hands. When she speaks again, her voice shakes.
"You tried to take your own life. All because I handed you off to the wrong person." When she looks up again Alex can see the tears in her eyes. "And then I lied to you about being there. I lied to you face, every day for almost two years," Nikita gives a bitter laugh, wiping her eyes.
It's hard for a person to hear the truth about themselves and when she finally manages the courage to look over at Alex, she sees how broken and fragile she is.
"I was angry at you. I hated you. I wanted you dead. It wasn't because of all that stuff though. It was because you lied to me. You chose to lie to me. You never had a choice with the Division thing, but you had a choice about telling me." Alex isn't crying like she is, and that only makes Nikita feels worse.
"But you stopped me from killing myself. I have a life now, one worth keeping. I smile. I laugh. I have friends, and memories and a future. I have a fraction of a family and I have the truth. I even fell in love."
Nikita snorts. "Look how that turned out. Nathan had to leave the fucking country."
"I'm not talking about Nathan, Nikita."
Nikita stiffens, scared of what's about to be said. Loving and caring about someone is easy, even in their world. But being on the receiving end of that? It's scary.
"Why do you think I hate you so much?" She can tell Alex is trying to lighten the situation, but it's no use. Nikita isn't the loving kind.
"Alex I can't do this." She uses both hands to push herself up, wiping her hands on her jeans once she's in a standing position. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm not...I can't do this."
"You mean not now or not ever?" she questions, standing up too. There's only a bit of space between them, and she doesn't really care about anything else.
"Alex...you...I care about you okay? I do," she says, cursing herself because she can't stop the tears. "I care about you and I want this, but I-"
Alex has had enough talking. She pulls Nikita closer, crashing their bodies together, eliminating all gaps and spaces between them. "You're not doing anything wrong, Nikita. I want this too."
She presses the other woman's lip to her own, thrilled for their first kiss. It's tentative at first, like all first kisses, but moments later she can feel all of Nikita's passion and frustration bleeding into it. Their mouths move in an intricate, almost violent dance. When Alex parts her mouth for Nikita, she has to stifle a moan when her tongue slips inside. She wants to move her hands; run them all over Nikita's body, but she knows there's a chance that if she lets Nikita go, she might slip away.
She gently nudges Nikita down to the floor and soon, both of them are kneeling, still entangled in each other. Alex pulls away for air and when she does, Nikita's lips follows, alternating between chaste and passionate kisses. Alex is breathless now and she likes it because every time she inhales, she inhales Nikita's breath. She's inhaling her. Nikita's hand find their way to Alex's sides, and the teasing begins; her fingernails raking long, light scratches along the sensitive skin, back and forth, over and over again. Nikita buries her face in her neck, and she's whispering something that Alex can't understand because she's too focused on her warm breath trickling down her skin.
"That feels good," Alex murmurs, letting her eyes close. Nikita's hands dip lower, leaving hot trails across her skin. She feels the pressure of her hands through the thin, lacy fabric of her boy shorts as Nikita gropes her, giving her bottom a long, harsh squeeze. Alex gasps out, pressing her body into Nikita's.
"I wasn't joking when I said you looked gorgeous," Nikita whispers, running her hands back up her body. They come to a stop on her shoulders, where they tug the straps of her bra down. "I've never told you that before, have I?"
"No." It's a breathless reply, "I'd say the same about you, but you're wearing too much clothing," Alex smirks, pulling away again. Her hands find their way back to Nikita's waist, and begin unbuckling the dark belt holding her jeans in place. Alex tugs them down, Nikita too distracted to do it by herself as she drops kisses along the younger woman's collarbone. "Stand up," Alex orders, and for once, Nikita does as she's told. She kicks her jeans off to the side and begins to crouch again when Alex stops her.
"Shirt too." She sighs tugging the fitted red shirt over her head and throwing it carelessly over her shoulder. It lands on a plate of brownies.
"Wow. Butch until the very end, huh?" Nikita cocks an eyebrow in confusion. Alex points to her underwear; a navy sports bra and tiny white boy shorts that aren't nearly as cute or appealing as her own.
"Shut up, okay?" she teases, back on her knees. "Not everyone drops $400 on useless lingerie." She pecks Alex on the lips, easing her backwards.
"Useless?" Her back collides with the soft carpet and moments later Nikita is hovering above her.
"You've only been in it for twenty minutes." She runs her hands down Alex's front, making her shiver.
"I know, and you're already tearing it off me." Alex smiles, pulling her down for a kiss. She sits back up-crashing into Nikita in the process-and reaches behind her back to untie the ribbon.
Nikita straddles her, stretching up and over to see behind the Russian's back. "Technically, your tearing it off of yourself." She puts her hands over Alex's, helping her get the job done faster. The ribbon undone, the bralett falls into their laps, and for a moment all Nikita can do is stare at the creamy, white skin of her breasts. They're exactly what you'd expect on a nineteen year old; tight, perky, rounded and very, very soft looking. The flow of the pale skin is only disrupted by the shocking pink of her hardened nipples, and for a moment an image of a tongue flashes in Nikita's mind.
"Staring isn't going to make me comfortable, Nikki." she moves to fold her arms over her chest, but Nikita stops her.
"No, don't. They're perfect." She pushes Alex back down-forcefully-and licks her lips as she watches her breasts bob with each movement. Alex sighs.
"So I take it that's your favorite part on a woman?"
"Something like that." She leans down and presses her lips to Alex's, leaving them just as quickly as she came. She takes her time kissing her way down her neck, across her collarbone and down the valley of her breasts, savoring the feel and warmth of Alex's body. She only stops when she gets to her belly button, pressing the side of her face onto the smooth flesh.
"Alex..." Alex ignores her though. Of course she does. She must know what's coming.
"You say they're your favorite part of a woman but you skip right over them?" she lifts Nikita's hand and brings it back to her body, dragging her fingers, starting at her collarbone and going south. Nikita pulls away before she gets to her chest, propping her head on Alex's stomach.
"Lexi..."
"What?" she snaps, propping herself up on her elbows. "What? What is it now?"
Nikita has to look away; she can see the obvious disappointment in her pretty blue eyes. "We...I..." She shakes her head, sitting back up. "I was serious when I said I couldn't do this."
The disappointment is all over her face now, in her body language, in her tone of voice. "Why not? You said you wanted this. We both want this."
"I already told you why."
"And I already told you I don't care. I don't hate you anymore, okay? I don't blame you. For anything." Nikita stands and walks a few feet to where her jeans are lying. She puts one foot in, and then the other, completely avoiding Alex's gaze.
"Nikita." It's not really her name she's saying, more of a plead, begging her not to do this. Nikita ignores her, stepping around her to reach for her T-shirt.
This time it's Alex who's close to crying. She presses her palms to her eyes, a futile attempt to stop the tears. "I was serious when I said I loved you, Nikita. And I still do." Her voice shakes and the tears finally fall.
"You've never felt guilt, have you?" Nikita asks, not moving to comfort her. "You've never ruined somebody's life, or lied to someone you love or did terrible, terrible things to someone you're supposed to care about, have you?" Alex doesn't answer, and she doesn't have to. "Yeah. I thought so." Nikita bends down to pick up the silk robe from earlier.
She crouches down next to Alex and drapes it over her still topless form. "It's not about you forgiving me. It's about me forgiving myself."
Alex slaps her hands away, holding the robe in place nonetheless. "I really fucking hate Saint Nikita."
Nikita makes a facial expression that's close to a smile, but not at all, not really. "Sometimes I do too. I'm going to bed," she presses a kiss to Alex's forehead, lips lingering on the warm skin. "You should too."
Another tear slips down her cheek, but she ignores it, looking around at the spread of pastries and wine in front of them.
"Don't worry. We can clean up the mess tomorrow."
And only Alex knows that she isn't talking about the food.
Updating took so much longer than it should have. (Sorry!) But thanks to everyone who followed and favorited the story:3 I swear the next chapter will be all (or mostly) smut.
Reviews are love:3