Again, Merry (almost) Christmas. Or Happy Holidays. Or by God, it's hot. Whatever floats your boat. Sorry about the shortie chapter here, I just had trouble finding a place to cut it. At least you'll get regular updates instead?

xx

"Helen my dear, I was beginning to wonder if you'd died inhaling too many paint fumes," her snarky agent said smoothly as he pushed past her and swanned into the house.

"You could have at least called first, Nikola," she grumbled, shutting the door.

"And ruin the surprise? Never," he said, sounding scandalized before turning around to face her and grinning widely, throwing his arms open wide in greeting.

"It's good to see you too," she sighed, moving forward to peck his cheek. His hands landed on her shoulders and pulled her closer so that he could hug her.

"No need to be so chaste, my love," he whispered in her ear, making her shiver.

"Is there something you needed Nikola?" she asked, pushing back and trying to ignore how nice it felt to be embraced by a warm body. She crossed her arms and cocked her head at him as she waited for an answer. Nikola, on his part merely grinned as he ran a hand over the tailored suit he wore. In all their time working together and even before that when they were simply close friends, Helen could count on one hand the number of times she'd seen him in something other than a suit and tie. Well, true, he did sometimes substitute a cravat for the tie but the point remained and, as he fell down onto her couch, she briefly hoped that she'd managed to leave a paint soaked rag there for him to sit on so that she could see him out of that damned suit.

Then she realised what she'd thought and she couldn't help the blush she felt rising in her cheeks. Nikola said nothing, simply raising an eyebrow as his smirk widened.

They'd met back at university, long before she and John had met and, for a very long time, Nikola had been her closest friend. They'd met one day in autumn when the skirt of her red dress had caught on a nail and ripped. He'd offered her his jacket to tie around her waist and, when she'd returned it to his dorm the next day, he'd told her to either dry clean it or buy him a new one. She'd offered a cup of tea instead. He'd said it was a start and, within two weeks they had three standing lunch dates and spent Sunday afternoons together perusing local art galleries. Over that very first cup of tea they'd bonded over a love of art and, when she'd revealed that she was a painter, he'd insisted that she show him her work. It had taken a month before she got up the nerve to do so but he'd been wonderful, 100% supportive yet still objective enough to give her feedback. It was only a few weeks later when he'd helped her sell her very first painting and, from there the rest was, well, to use the cliché, history.

"We had a lunch date, remember?" he prodded, looking worried. "You wanted to take me to that neat little Italian place in town. Alfredo's I think you called it." With his usual grace, Nikola pushed up and off the couch and was by her side in a moment. "It's getting worse, isn't it?" he asked softly, resting a hand on her cheek. Biting her lip, Helen nodded and he pulled her into a hug.

Nikola had, through her most tumultuous times, been by her side. She knew full well that he disapproved of her marriage to John (though now the point was rather moot) but still he'd never left her. In fact, he had been the one to insist she go see a doctor to get help. Of course, John had stepped in and insisted they use his doctor instead but Nikola hadn't complained, apparently just pleased she'd gone for help.

"Maybe we ought to find you a new doctor," he whispered softly and she shook her head, pulling him closer. As he tightened his arms around her, she let out a deep breath, allowing herself to relax in to his embrace. A few minutes later, she pulled back and gave him a weak smile but Nikola still looked worried.

"Give me a minute to change and we can be on our way," she said, hoping to sound confident. She stepped back from him but he moved with her, arms still around her waist.

"Go sit down and I'll make you a cup of tea," he ordered softly but she shook her head.

"We have reservations," she argued but she could tell he was determined. "Honestly Nikola, I'm fine. I just haven't been sleeping so well."

"I can see that," he murmured, eyes raking over her tired face. "My beautiful Helena, I told you that droll Englishman wasn't any good for you," he said softly, using the pet name he'd stumbled upon all those years ago. She hated it and he knew it but she'd had her revenge with the dreaded 'Nick' or even, on occasion, 'Nikki.'

"Don't," she said bitterly, pushing his arms away. Angrily she stalked towards the staircase, ignoring his calls.

"Come on Helen, don't be like that!" he cried, catching up to her halfway up the stairs. He grabbed her arm in an attempt to stop her ascent but dropped it immediately when she gave him a cold glare. "I'm sorry Helen, I shouldn't have said that," he said sincerely and her heart melted. At the pitiful look on his face, she smiled a little and his eyes lit up. "There's my Helena," he joked and she punched his arm. He scowled at her and she laughed freely for the first time in a long time.

"I'm going to get dressed now, you go make me some tea," she instructed, a shiver of fear and anticipation running up and down her spine at the look that suddenly appeared in his eye.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like a hand," he asked huskily, letting a hand move to the curve of her hip, wiggling his thumb under the heavy fabric of her jumper until it found the smallest piece of bare flesh. She paused for a few seconds too many and he moved to stand on the step just under hers, pressing their bodies together, noses brushing.

She knew where this was going. It was a path they'd experimented with back in university though Helen wasn't sure it was the right path to take now.

"Nikola," she warned but her voice was breathy. He swallowed audibly and she could see the uncertainty in his startling blue grey eyes. His other hand moved to brush a lock of hair from her cheek, his finger tips sending little sparks through her body. Then, slowly, giving her time to shove him away, he leant in, pressing his lips to the very corner of her mouth. A tremor ran through her body and, instinctively, she turned her head to kiss him properly. He gasped softly at the turn of events but caught up quickly enough, pulling her body closer and moving his lips against hers passionately. Helen let her body sag against his and wound a hand into his hair, pulling him closer as his lips ravaged hers.

When, finally, they were both out of breath, Helen pulled back enough to bury her head in the crook of his neck.

"Well then," Nikola spluttered breathlessly, rubbing her back softly.

"Quite," she agreed with a tiny snort of laughter. Nikola chuckled, holding her close for a moment longer. When, finally her knees lost the jelly like quality they had so recently acquired, Helen detangled herself from his warm arms. "Tea," she reminded him uncertainly, unable to look him the eye.

"Of course," Nikola responded coolly, turning on his heel to glide down the stairs, leaving Helen standing dumbfounded. Letting out a strangled cough, Helen took a moment to compose herself, watching Nikola as he moved towards the kitchen.

Turning slowly, she forced herself to walk up stairs, trying not to think about the fact that she'd just made out with her oldest friend. In truth, it wasn't that shocking, after all it had happened before but rarely when they were both sober. Or since she married John. Hell, they'd even slept together a few too many times in their youth but never before had they kissed without the expectation of sex. They'd never simply revelled in the delight of tasting each other as they just had.

Pulling open the door to her bedroom, Helen let out a sigh. Her sleep deprived mind was to blame, she decided as she padded towards her wardrobe. And that blasted dream. The electrician had had Nikola's eyes...