THIS is the last "just friends" pre-WayHaught. A re-telling of how That Day might have gone down from Waverly's perspective (and taking into account the timeline stretching I did under the reasoning of "selling a property like Shorty's would have taken some time to hash out." Seriously, if you've ever bought a house you'll know what I mean: that shit takes forever even in a rush.)

He showed up at Shorty's wearing an ill-fitting gray suit with a red tie, a sheaf of paperwork in one hand and briefcase in the other. Normally, Waverly Earp would pay a guy like that little mind. But this gentleman didn't come into Shorty's for a drink: he came asking after Gus MacCready.

That set off warning bells for Waverly.

This wasn't the first time Waverly had seen him. In fact, he'd returned several times in the past few weeks. A nagging worry had started to fester at the back of Waverly's mind.

The next red flag was how attentive Gus had been to what he had to say. Hours a day were spent sifting through documentation, only to return with more papers a few days later. They typically pored over his paperwork on the upper level table, usually just out of earshot at the bar.

What Waverly did manage to overhear, especially today, set her heart racing. And not in a good way.

"…is this what we agreed on?" Aunt Gus asked, eyes narrowing at the young man.

"To the letter," he said with a lopsided grin.

Topping off the beer she'd been pouring for Pete, Waverly shot the customer a hurried smile. "There you go," she muttered and started to turn away to resume her eavesdropping.

"I heard about you and Champ, by the way," Pete said shyly, sweeping off the brim of his tan flat cap and running fingers over a short crop of hair.

Uh huh, she thought disinterestedly. Waverly affixed a kind smile to her cheeks but avoided eye contact with Pete. She strained to hear what Gus and That Guy were saying, but she could only make out flipping pages and a clicking pen.

"He never treated you right, Waverly," Pete said. She waved off the comment, mostly because it wasn't entirely true. But the thought agitated her more than she already was.

Champ wasn't a bad boyfriend. Or a bad guy. He's just… not what I'm looking for. Or what I need.

Pete continued, a smile turning the edges of his scruffy cheeks. "I was thinking, you know, any man in Purgatory would be lucky to have you…"

Inwardly groaning, Waverly stopped herself short of scoffing, "But would I be lucky to have them?"

Rolling his thumbs around that mug of beer, Pete's eyes didn't quite meeting Waverly's. "And I was also thinking that—"

Oh God. No no no no no no no.

Eyes widening, Waverly leapt in to cut off his train of thought. "—that you should find a gal like me, only taller, right? So she can actually get up in that custom-lifted, tricked-out pickup of yours?" She nodded at him significantly, praying Pete would get the hint.

Thankfully, Pete took the out rather than the impending bruise to his ego. His grin was a little pained, but he agreed, "Uh, yea. Yea, exactly." Pausing for a beat, Pete then asked, "…is Wynonna… still around?"

Waverly made an exhale-sound in disgust and shot him a withering glare. She shooed him away from the counter with her bar towel, where he joined his brother at the pool table. There was a lull before the boys started chuckling among themselves and threw looks behind them at Waverly. She glared daggers back and made a swiping motion across her throat while smugly mouthing, "Ha ha you're cut off." That shut them up with an expletive before they racked a new game of pool.

Ugh. Men are all the same.

Sighing, Waverly scrubbed at a pair of clean mugs from the dishwasher below the bar. She went back to staring despondently at Gus near the front of the saloon. The older woman was still flipping through a stack of papers, hand at her chin, eyes probing every line of print. A pen rolled on her knuckles, poised and ready.

Just as that pen clicked one final time, Waverly straightened and announced, "I'm gonna take my break now!"

Her aunt only nodded in acknowledgment, her eyes focused on the documents in front of her.

That little brush-off grated on Waverly. She resisted the urge to huff as she gathered up her blue coat and brown purse to head for the door. A chill Purgatory wind stung Waverly's cheeks as she stepped outside.

But Waverly just couldn't stay and watch. She knew what was coming. The thing Waverly had been low-key dreading for weeks had arrived, complete with that rumpled gray suit and red tie.

Today was the day: Gus was selling Shorty's.

"What the frick is going on today?" Waverly asked no one in particular as she stalked down the street, clutching her elbows to brace against the cold.

This whole day had felt off since she'd rolled out of bed this morning.

Even though there had been a lull in BBD cases lately, Wynonna was a scarce sight at the Homestead. So was Doc. Dolls was… Dolls.

And Nicole…

Waverly scowled as she checked her phone. No new SnapChats or text messages. Same as yesterday.

Things were weird with Nicole since Waverly had sent that text after watching the sunrise. It was like they forgot how to be friends.

It was all Waverly's fault, too. She'd messed things up… crossed the line.

["It was worth the trip"]

["So are you"] …stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.

Plus, the last time they'd bumped into each other outside the station had been a disaster. First they'd actually physically bumped into each other (via hard shoulder-check), then it was a race to see who could apologize first, then a lot of shy ground-kicking and "So…"

Pulling the brim down on her Stetson slightly, Nicole had asked, "So… how's Wynonna?"

"She's… Wynonna," Waverly had replied simply. "So—uh—how's… Calamity Jane?"

"She's good."

"Good."

(Un)fortunately, Lonnie had knocked on the window to summon Nicole inside, so the women managed to part ways with just awkward smiles. And since then, Waverly had started about a dozen texts but deleted every single one. Which dragged out the weirdness further.

Ugh.

What am I gonna do? How do I fix this? How do I make things go back to normal again?

…what the heck would Normal even be?

As she rounded the street corner, Waverly halted dead in her tracks. Because at the next block over, Waverly spotted a familiar, uniformed profile complete with a white Stetson.

Oh you've got to be frickin' kidding me.

Bathed in the flashing lights of her police cruiser, Officer Nicole Haught was indeed standing at the corner. She had her metal clipboard in hand and appeared to be giving a ticket to two college-age blonde girls.

As Waverly approached, she tried to blend in with some storefront awnings. The diner was just up the street and if Waverly could just get some food in her belly, maybe she could come up with a plan to—

"Hey! Wave!"

Frick.

Just on the other side of the street now, Nicole gave a broad smile and a gloved wave. Her motorists had briefly returned to their car to dig out purses and insurance information.

Sighing in resignation as she crossed the street, Waverly managed to step in a freezing puddle. She swore under her breath as the icy water seeped through a sock, soaking her toes. The low-key frustration at the base of her skull started to throb.

Perfect. Just perfect.

Nicole grimaced in empathy when she heard the splash. "Oh shoot, you okay? Sorry, I just wanted to say hey. I—I haven't seen you in awhile, so…" She trailed off, her dimpled smile soft and sweet.

"Yea, it's fine," Waverly said, a little more sharply than she intended. When Nicole shrank back, Waverly gave a tight smile. "Sorry. Today just—today just sucks." She stamped on her damp foot a little, feeling her sock bunch between her toes uncomfortably.

Ugh.

Tilting her head in sympathy, Nicole started, "I'm sorry to hear that. I tried texting you, but I wasn't sure if—"

"Yea, me too," Waverly rushed in with a shy smile. "I keep just—and then just don't know what to—"

A sing-sing voice interrupted the woman. "Yoohoo! Officer… Hoht?"

Both women turned at the same time to see the pair of blondes bounding back from their SUV, red passports in hand. They were practicing rolling Nicole's unfamiliar last name in a foreign tongue. "Europeiska Unionen Sverige" was stamped in gold lettering on those red booklets.

Swedish?

"It's Haught, ma'am," Nicole corrected politely. She opened her hand to accept the pair of passports.

"Haaaaw-tuh," one enunciated slowly. The other giggled, long eyelashes batting over heavily eye-shadowed blue eyes.

Nicole muttered under her breath just loud enough for Waverly to hear, "…Close enough." She shot Waverly a wink as she continued writing on her metal clipboard.

Left Blonde twirled her scarf around her finger. "Will this be taking long time, Officer Hawwwt? We were wanting to see the Mount Rushmore today."

Waverly chimed in with a wincing smile. "You're off by a few hundred miles and a couple states." She pointed to the southeast. "You want I-90. You're on I-80."

An argument started in Swedish, both women angrily slapping at each other's elbows and shoulders for a few seconds. They also pulled phones from pockets to consult their maps. Waverly and Nicole just exchanged confused (but bemused) glances.

The Right Blonde then shushed the Left and gave a shy smile to Nicole. "You give us directions, maybe? Put us on right road?"

"Uh, sure…" Nicole replied, baffled but cordial. "After we discuss that illegal left turn y'all made. And you were going 22 miles above the posted speed limit." She waved the ticket pad at them before returning Right Blonde's passport.

"Is just mistake. Not happen again," Left Blonde promised.

Right Blonde jumped in, her hand brushing down the elbow of Nicole's coat (which Nicole pulled away from). "You doing things later, Officer Hawwwt? You ever see the Mount Rushmore? Want to be joining us?" Her tone was low, enticing, flirty. Left Blonde nodded in emphatic agreement.

Ughhh. They… are the worst.

Feeling like she was in the way, Waverly started to take a few cautious steps back. Her cold foot made a squishing sound, which turned Nicole's head. The woman gave Waverly a panicked frown, but for just a second Waverly thought she saw a fond uptilt to Nicole's lips. Which sent a surge of something through Waverly's chest, briefly overriding that throbbing frustration.

Right at that moment, the radio on Nicole's shoulder sounded off with a crackle of static. ["Haught, do you copy?"] A male voice.

The Velcro made a soft ripping sound as Nicole pulled the radio to her mouth and clicked the call button. "This is Haught finishing an 11-95 on Cooper. Go ahead." She slapped the radio back on her shoulder and continued writing on her ticket pad.

The male dispatcher continued. ["Haught, return to the station when you finish that 11-95."]

Scowling, Nicole leaned into her radio. "Copy that. …is something wrong?"

["Nedley wants your ass on desk duty."] The dispatcher sounded apologetic. ["Something about how you're the only one who gets shit done around here."] There was brief, muffled outrage/agreement on the other end of the radio.

"Again?!" Nicole grumbled under her breath before clicking the button one last time. "10-4, on my way. Haught out."

The two Swedish women groaned, first at being denied an "escort" and second at the ticket Nicole handed back along with the remaining passport. They attempted to salvage their disappointment by taking selfies with "a real police" and asking for Nicole's number, which the woman declined (after shooting another panicked look at Waverly).

This whole exchange was… annoying to Waverly. And not just because she seemed invisible. Backing away slowly the way she came, Waverly smiled awkwardly. "Sorry, I'm keeping you from doing your job. I should—I'll just go." She resisted the urge to add an unnecessarily snarky "Have fun" under her breath.

Nicole's frown was apologetic. "Waverly…" She looked like she wanted to say more.

But Waverly had already turned and ran back across the street. Giving up on the diner, Waverly stomped back to Shorty's (though she took the long way back, weaving through alleys). At least the walk might give her a chance to maybe clear her head. Minus the fact her boots squished every other step.

She didn't quite know why she was so irritated, but Waverly's blood was downright boiling as she strode through "downtown" Purgatory. Running into Nicole used to be such a lovely surprise. But that…

…That was such a stupid thing to be mad about. And what was there even to be mad about? Nothing even happened.

Ugh.

Maybe because Nicole was working and Waverly felt like she was in the way? But Nicole had called her over. If she was such a bother, why would Nicole go out of her way to talk to her?

She was missing something and that angered Waverly even more. It felt obvious but just out of reach. She wanted to talk to someone about it.

But Wynonna wasn't around and… the only other person she wanted to talk to was… Nicole.

Ugh… How do I fix this? How do I make things go back to normal again?

…what would normal even be for us?

…Us…

Gus was shaking hands with the Gray Suit when Waverly returned to Shorty's. File folders slapped closed, keys were waved about, and polite laughter drifted through the saloon.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Mrs. MacCready," the man said before leaving. His eyes gave a worried sweep of the bar but when he didn't find what he was looking for, he smiled in relief. Briefcase snapping shut, Gray Suit held the case to his chest protectively as he ventured out those heavy double doors.

Waverly stalked over to Gus. "So you just did it? You just went ahead and sold it," she said accusingly.

Her Aunt's gaze was hard. "Decisions had to be made." Gus flipped back through her paperwork, blue pen bouncing between index and middle fingers. "I know you don't believe me, but you were not born to be a Goddamn small-town waitress."

That softened Waverly some. "Yea, I believe you..." Resentment and worry still burned in the back of her mind. She latched on to her outrage. "But I have, like, three shirts that say Shorty's."

It didn't come out quite as biting as Waverly had hoped.

Gus smirked back. "Honey, it's in the agreement: Shorty's will never get torn down. You can work here in as many shirts as you want for as long as you want." Her dark eyes flicked over Waverly in a quick once over, a mixture of warmth and disapproval.

Waverly tried to interject. "That's not the point!"

"Things change, kid. I never thought I'd be the one makin' this decision, but I made it all the same." Gus tapped the heavy file folder on the edge of the counter to evenly align the batch of papers. "It's past time I moved on from this town. Enjoy my retirement." Her slanted smile was sad with apology. "I got an offer on the farm, too. From a nice family from Shelby."

Sputtering, Waverly slammed her palms on the counter. "What?! You're—you're leaving?! And you didn't—why didn't—I didn't know!" She could feel her pulse quicken, blood pounding in her ears.

"Cuz I didn't want you to fret, Waverly. My sister's got a spare room since her boy went away to college. It's time I reconnect with my old life. Just like you're doing with Wynonna," she said with a significant nod. "Not all change is bad, honey. It just is. And it's up to you to make the most of it."

Waverly flopped her head down on the counter, long hair covering her face. The wood counter was cool on her forehead as she groaned into the surface. "I can't believe this. This is the frickin' worst." She looked up through her curtain of brown strands. "I'm gonna miss you so much," Waverly said, her voice small as her breath puffed against those hairs.

Her Aunt smiled and reached over. A soft, wrinkled hand parted the hair over Waverly's forehead so her face was visible again. Gus stroked her hair for another second before laying the file folder back on the bar (the air tickling Waverly's cheek in its wake).

"You too, kid. But when you decide you're ready to unstick those wings of yours…" Gus trailed off as she reached into her back pocket. Unfolding a small crisp paper, she offered it to Waverly. "…Don't cash it for a week or so."

Lifting her head, Waverly took the thin paper and examined it before she asked, "What's this?"

It was a check. And there were… a lot of zeroes at the end of that check.

What. The. Frick.

Leaning over the end of the bar, Gus patted Waverly's elbow with a smile. "It's freedom, honey!" She gave the check a joyful flick and shook her head in amusement. "You've been doing what others want you to do for so long. Now you can do whatever it is you want."

It should have been touching. Wonderful. Liberating.

But instead Waverly felt… empty. Lost. Alone.

She held in her hands the answer to so many questions… except she couldn't remember what the question was that this was an answer to. She felt a heat in her eyes.

"…which is what?" Waverly retorted despondently.

A soft, sage smile. "Live your life," Gus said. "Remember: some of the best things in life are the surprises it throws at us. About what we want." She paused to give Waverly a lingering look before winking. "Who we want."

That caught in Waverly's throat. She could only stare back, confused.

"You've always been an honest kid." Patting her elbow again, Gus leaned in drop a kiss on Waverly's cheek. "Don't stop now."

Gus scooped up her file of papers and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Waverly alone at the bar holding a small fortune in her hands (and more questions than answers).

The Purgatory Reservoir stretched out before Waverly, the water's gentle ripples reflecting a cloudy afternoon sky. With a line of snowy Jeep tracks leading to her hidden alcove, Waverly's Spot was just as quiet as always. Sipping on her second (third?) espresso, Waverly licked her lips against the cinnamon flavoring and stared out at the horizon.

She'd gone home to change out of her Shorty's getup, and not just for a dry pair of socks. Even in her favorite white wool sweater with a coffee in hand, Waverly still felt cold. There was nervous energy in her chest that sent little shivers through her shoulders and collarbone.

What the frick is going on today?

Everything felt so… empty. This place, Waverly's safe place against everything crazy with Purgatory… it didn't seem so magical. The Reservoir was just a dingy, fake lake chiseled out of rock.

The last time she'd been here, she'd brought Nicole. It had been… something. Something bigger. Now it was back to being small and lonely.

Waverly folded and unfolded that check. The same line of zeroes was still there. A small fortune wrapped up in a such a small piece of paper.

It was funny: when Wynonna had first showed up, she offered to hock Peacemaker so the Earp sisters could go abroad and leave Purgatory behind for good. Now, Waverly had the money to do that twice over.

But things were different from then in so many ways. Wynonna had embraced being the Heir. Breaking the Earp Curse didn't seem like so lofty a pipedream, but an actual possibility. And Waverly… she was helping. All those years poured into research and history and language was finally getting put to use.

The nervous energy in Waverly's chest dredged up an old hurt for a moment and she let it roll through her.

Wynonna. Sweet, older sister. The protective one. The strong one. …And the screw-up who'd left Waverly behind.

Waverly, who stayed. Waverly, who dedicated her life to breaking the Earp Curse. Waverly… who couldn't break the Goddamn curse.

And Wynonna, who just waltzed back into town on raw, God-given talent and the only one who knew where Peacemaker had been hidden. It had hurt to be left out, to be the only one who took things seriously, to yet again be Not Enough as an Earp.

That stupid Revenant hadn't been wrong: Waverly was envious—jealous—of Wynonna. And while she was proud that her sister was finally taking it all seriously finally, a small part of Waverly was still resentful. It was a slow burn of forgiveness that was rooted in long-time little sister spite. But even Waverly could admit her big sister had grown into the role and—through trial by fire and then some—was equal to the task.

So, they couldn't just up and leave Purgatory. Not after they'd worked so hard and come together as a team. As a family.

"It's freedom, honey!" Gus has said.

Why didn't it feel like freedom?

Waverly could go for a Master's degree at a decent university. Or go to Japan or the ocean or at the very least just leave Purgatory for the first time in her life. Anything she ever wanted, she could go do. Right now, if she wanted.

But… why didn't any of those things sound good?

Slouching back into her seat with an annoyed sigh, Waverly took a deep sip of her coffee. She played with the ends of her scarf, her gaze drifting back to the passenger seat.

Nicole.

The image of the woman watching the sunrise with such awe and wonder was burned into Waverly's memory. Her red hair tousled from sleep, bundled in Waverly's blanket, hands politely folded around the coffee that Waverly had carefully made for her at four in the morning.

For some reason, Nicole tended to linger in Waverly's head. For minutes, hours, days after they spent time together. They'd talked for less than a minute on the street earlier, yet Waverly still remembered the earrings she'd been wearing (round gold studs) and the smell of vanilla.

That warm flutter around Waverly's shoulders calmed for a moment, until the voice of those two Swedish girls returned in her mind. Then a scowl darkened Waverly's face, the agitation quickening her blood.

She resented those women's confidence and brashness. They didn't care what anyone thought. Just aimlessly wandered around the Northwest in an SUV without a care in the world. No plan, no nothing. They just went out and did whatever they wanted. Including…

"You doing things later, Officer Hawwwt? Want to be joining us?"

They just—they just asked. They didn't need to go to JD's and plan out what they were gonna say. They didn't need days of psyching themselves up to plan a stupid sunrise (probably). But there it was: envy. Envy for a whole wide world of people doing things Waverly couldn't/wouldn't/didn't/hadn't.

Waverly's thumb wandered to her own phone, her message history with Nicole depressingly quiet.

It was a shitty thing to be resentful about, she realized. Because she was basically mad at herself for not taking action. She'd always just let things happen to her. Let Champ Hardy ask her out. Let Wynonna take charge of the Curse. Let herself be a Goddamn small-town waitress instead of—what?

"You've been doing what others want you to do for so long. Now you can do whatever it is you want."

"…which is what?"

"Live your life."

Okay, Waverly thought with a long, slow breath. She tried to center herself like she did in yoga. Focused on breathing, let the outside world fade away, just her and the next breath.

What do I want? If I could want anything? Right here and now?

A bunch of thoughts trickled in. Glimpses of things she'd seen on YouTube or read about, secret passages of her diary… Swimming in the ocean or the wind on her face with the world below.

Pretty scary. But… lacking somehow now.

Maybe because… she could do those whenever she wanted? There was no urgency, no risk attached anymore. A good plan would take care of any of those little bucket-list things (now that she had the money).

Okay. What else?

"Remember: some of the best things in life are the surprises it throws at us. About what we want. Who we want."

Her fingers felt around in her purse and found a small piece of paper. Not the check Aunt Gus had given her. This paper was thicker, smaller, lined with creases where it had been folded and unfolded over and over again. The pad of her index finger traced the embossing and Waverly didn't even need to open her eyes it to know what it said.

"Officer Nicole Haught, Purgatory Sheriff's Department."

Inhaling a shuddering breath, Waverly let it out slowly. That jangling feeling in her chest started again, pushing her to stop hiding and put into words this tightly coiled anxiety she'd been holding on to for so long.

That tight feeling had come so close to being free, weeks ago. On that afternoon when Waverly had run into Nicole on the street.

"I kind of just discovered it," Waverly had said, out loud, finally. The courage to put to words had been on the tip of her tongue, a short lifetime of restrained almosts laid bare. Except it had gone horribly wrong, dismissed by a distracted Nicole. The woman had apologized later, but not before Waverly had boxed that thought back up again and put it back on the shelf. To be dealt with later.

With another shaky inhale, Waverly pulled that thought close again, hugged it to her. And when she exhaled, she finally—finally—let it go.

Waverly liked Nicole. A lot. A lot, a lot.

Not as friends.

"Friends" don't wonder what the other one is doing all hours of the day (and night).

"Friends" don't get goosebumps when the other touches them.

"Friends" don't wish the other would look at her the way Nicole did, like she saw inside her (and what's more: liked what she saw).

She wanted Nicole. Wanted her, wanted her.

She wanted to know the things that made Nicole laugh—that sweet, deep, melodic laugh.

She wanted to know what Nicole was thinking when she chewed her cheek or licked her lips that certain way.

She wanted to know what Nicole felt like. Smelled like. Tasted like.

Eyes shooting open, Waverly let out another long breath. That feeling in her chest… it loosened. Like she was lighter. Relieved, even.

Okay.

She needed talk to Nicole. Make a plan. Tell her—tell her Waverly liked her. And maybe… they could start over?

…But what if she said no?

Nicole had already gotten hurt—almost died—before. If she stuck around, Nicole could get hurt again, maybe worse. The Earp Curse was kind of a big secret to keep/problem to deal with. Maybe… maybe it's better if Waverly didn't say anything?

"You've always been an honest kid."

She knew she was looking for an excuse to bail. She scowled at herself, at how scared she was. How close she was to chickening out already.

Oh God what if Nicole said no?

…Oh God what if Nicole said yes?

That was the real question she was afraid of. If it was a No, she could just put that thought back on its shelf. Easy. Simple. Safe. Waverly knew what that life was like (since she was basically living it right now, so no surprises there).

But a Yes… that was Big. All those exciting Firsts wrapped in all those potential mistakes. All Waverly's Earp baggage laid bare along with all of Nicole's. And all that terrifying Unknown made less scary knowing there was someone to share it all with.

Shifting her Jeep into reverse, Waverly made a two-point turn before heading back up the trail back to Purgatory. She downed the rest of her coffee in one big swallow, drumming her fingers on her steering wheel.

Okay. What's the plan?

Okay. First go to the station and find Nicole. Obviously.

What if she's not there? Do I text her? Meet her somewhere?

Waverly had to chew her cheek a moment before remembering: Nicole is on desk duty. She should be at the station.

Okay. What about anyone else?

She glanced the clock on her dashboard: 4:15 PM.

Okay. Nedley should be at Shorty's and if Nicole is on desk, that puts Lonnie out on patrol. And no Dolls or Wynonna at BBD to bug me.

Okay. Nicole should be alone at the station. Then what?

"Live your life."

Striding up those steps, Waverly headed straight for the Sheriff's Department on pure instinct. Her heart was hammering in her throat. And her plan was total shit.

Waverly still hadn't thought of something good to say other than just blurting out "I like you, Nicole" in the middle of the station. She was breathing through her nose, dangling earrings tickling Waverly's cheeks from her fast gait. She was nervous and agitated from all that damn espresso, too. It was hard to keep a thought still in her head.

When she reached a familiar hallway, Waverly hung back just outside the station. She saw the back of an older woman at the police desk. Dolores, Judge Cryderman's secretary, was doing some admin work. Waverly waited for the woman to leave before approaching.

Eyes skimming the station, Waverly felt an equal mixture of relief and anxiety to see the place was empty. Just like she'd hoped/dreaded.

Nicole Haught sat at the desk, pen scratching over a form. Her brow was knit in focus.

"Hey, Nedley out for dinner?" Waverly asked in a rush, barely able to make eye contact.

Head jerking up, Nicole's eyes crinkled when she saw Waverly. The woman tilted her head with a deadpan reply. "You mean 'happy hour at Shorty's?'"

Waverly mumbled a "yea" as she looked over at Nedley's blessedly empty office.

Perfect.

Nicole gave a small nod as she sat back in her chair, dropping the pen on her form. "Same time every day, kinda like clockwork. Do you need h—?"

That nod was all Waverly needed. She pushed through the wooden divider, past Nicole and into the Sheriff's office. Setting her purse down on the desk, Waverly gave the office a fraction of a second once-over before heading for the window blinds that looked out into the bullpen.

"Hey! Wave!"

Nicole's confused shout behind Waverly made her move faster. She tugged on the cords in rapid succession, the wooden slats angling closed on one, then another, then the third window. Standing in the doorway was a very confused Nicole, who again offered a soft "Hey?"

Nudging the taller woman aside, Waverly offered a gruff "excuse me" as she edged the door closed with a gentle slam. She looked out the office door one last time, but there was no one around.

Oh God.

When Waverly turned, Nicole snapped, "What is your problem? I don't understand why you—!"

That almost—almost—stopped Waverly. But she had already pushed forward, letting instinct and her pounding heartbeat lead. She was too close to stop now. She had to know.

Waverly had done the only thing that came to mind: she lunged forward and just kissed Nicole. She was just so tall. And when Waverly felt some resistance, she almost let go (but she had too much momentum propelling her forward).

But then… Nicole's hands clamped down over hers. And not to push Waverly's hands away, either. They held tight to Waverly's wrists, one near Nicole's neck and the other on her waist. Nicole held on, but the balance had already been upset and they were falling backward.

Luckily, Nicole somehow had the ability to maneuver them around the corner to the couch. And there… it continued for a moment. Held fast. Just like Waverly had hoped and feared and everything in between as they kissed.

Oh God, she was so soft and sweet yet firm and strong and—oh! Nicole tasted every bit as good as she smelled. Her head tilted in just the right ways, pushing and pulling against Waverly's tongue with a gasp. When Waverly felt Nicole pull back from underneath her(!), she finally broke contact. Her heart still fluttered in her chest, but from happiness this time.

"It's freedom, honey!"

While the last thing Waverly had seen before she shut her eyes tight was irritation on Nicole's face, now that woman beamed back at Waverly with impossible joy. The light from the outside window shone almost like a halo on Nicole's head.

All Waverly saw now were dimples and glowing skin and warm brown eyes and Nicole was just beautiful and Waverly's voice caught in her throat.

Laughing lightly, Nicole's question was laced with breathless amusement:

"What happened to 'friends?'"