A/N - Hi guys! I haven't said 'hello' in a while so I thought I'd take the chance. I don't say it often enough but thank you to all you wonderful people who take the time to read my ramblings and also those who are kind enough to review. I write for fun and to play with the characters, it still amazes me that other people enjoy it too!

The evening was unusually still; the only sound the faint chirp of crickets echoing from their hiding places. Nervously, she clicked her heels as she waited for her ride. He'd asked her to meet him at work - said he was backed up and couldn't make it to the loft in time to pick her up and make their reservation. Not an amazing start for a first date. She pulled on a smile as the battered SUV pulled up to the curb; spluttering and rattling like it could stop working at any moment. She wondered how long he could go on driving that piece of junk before he would finally admit defeat and get a new car. Winston had insisted on driving her; he'd given a speech about women getting in cabs alone after dark. She secretly thought he wanted to keep an eye on the two of them.

Unlike Schmidt, he had taken well to the idea of the two trying to date, according to Nick his exact words were 'about damn time'. Their other roommate, however, had not responded quite so well. He insisted that the two of them together would be a huge mistake and that it would ruin the 'loft dynamic'. As she wrenched open the rusting door, she giggled to hersel, remembering his reaction when he had found out; turning beet red, muttering profanities and pouting like a spoilt child. Clearly, he was getting ahead of himself. This was just a date - and a first date at that! Okay, well, maybe not your average first date, given their 'history'.

As she slammed the door shut behind her and fastened the bungee cord that served as a seat belt she saw Winston giving her a wide grin in the rear view mirror, "Jess, don't take this the wrong way - but you are looking fine tonight."

She reached across and squeezed his hand that was on the gear stick, "Aw, thanks Winston." Inside she felt a tickle of giddiness rise up; she obviously had chosen well. A dark blue dress; tight - but not too tight, a little cleavage on show but not too short. Just sexy enough to require a little imagination: not that Nick really needed to use his, she blushed.

Passing through the semi-deserted evening streets she began to tap her foot again against the threadbare carpet of the car's floor. The anxious knot in the pit of her stomach was soothed somewhat by this action - a little distraction from the thoughts currently fighting for prominence in her overcrowded mind. Every possible scenario was running simultaneously: the perfect date, the worst date and everything in-between. All conceivable things that could go wrong had been accounted for and presently stewed inside her in a brew of uncertainty and indecision. The thing was, she knew she liked Nick, she knew she was attracted to him but was that enough? A spark can only grow into a fire if it has enough kindling to fuel it and, well, if she was honest, she wasn't yet certain they did.

Winston had kept silent for the journey, playing the radio softly in the background; her nervousness was clearly obvious - seeping out of her pores like an invisible film of cool sweat, giving off a chemical scent that said 'inside I'm panicking'. He kept his silence until he drew to a halt outside the bar - as he did he pulled down his visor and removed a notebook sized brown envelope, passing it to Jess as she tried to disentangle herself from the bungee cord. "Here, for you," he said simply as she took it from him, giving him a confused look, "Nick just asked me to give it to you," he held up his hands, "That's all I know."

She slid her finger carefully under the gummed seal; inside she found a piece of paper, torn from a composition book. Unfolding it, she saw it was a note written in Nick's lazy scrawl and she began to read:

Jess,

I feel like everything that has happened between you and me has been a bit, well, crazy (not that I regret like 95% of it. I'm sure you know which parts I mean).
Well, I think we need to do a 'reset' - you know like on a computer game when you press down on the red button and wait ten seconds? Anyway, I think I have found our 'reset' button. So, I want to ask you two things:
First - please trust me.
Second - go inside and take a seat at the bar.

Nick x

"Okay..." she said slowly as she stuffed the note in the envelope.

"You alright?" he asked, worried Nick had blown it already.

Absentmindedly, she hooked her finger in the handle of the door and yanked it open, "Um, yeah, I think so?" she replied, it seemed more of a question than an answer.

"Right... Well, have fun, don't do anything I wouldn't do..." he called after her as she slipped into the velvety darkness of the night and watched her slip into the bar before he drove away.

Inside Clyde's it was already getting busy; Saturday night was the one night of the week where it was impossible to get a booth if you arrived after nine. Weaving her way through the bustling crowd she finally reached the bar; it was three people deep in places and she had to stand on her tip toes to see over the mass of people. She craned her neck trying to catch a glimpse of Nick when she noticed an untaken stool at the bar. On it was a small piece of cardboard, folded over so it stood up, it read: RESERVED ~ JESSICA DAY. She plucked the card from the seat cautiously, looking around to see if anyone was watching before she slid onto the cool shiny leather. Looking up, she saw Big Bob at the other end of the bar, she was just about to wave and ask where Nick was when she saw him stride over to her; in his hands a glass of rose wine and another brown envelope.

"What-" she started to ask until he placed the two items on the bar and looked her in the eye.

"From Nick, he'll be out soon," he told her, then he stepped away and resumed serving the long line of customers.

Intrigued, she took a sip of the cool, fragrant wine and let it swill around her tongue a little, enjoying the chill it gave her and the feel of it sliding slowly down her throat. After delaying her curiosity a second or two, she ripped into the coarse brown paper - being much less precious on this occasion. Inside was - big surprise - more paper, but this time two sheets. At the top of the first was written, 'READ ME FIRST!', so she did.

Me again (okay, that's dumb - who else would it be?).
This whole thing began at the bar, right where you are sitting. Can you remember? I do. I know it was a long time ago. Actually, I think about it a lot. I think about what I could have done differently - what I wish I had done differently.

At that moment, Big Bob slid a plate of chicken wings in front of Jess who looked up in surprise; he simply gave her a side smile and she returned to her reading.

So this is the plan (hopefully you have the wings by now? If not, Big Bob - you have not repaid me for the plunger incident of April '10) - I want to go back and try and do things a little differently. On the next page I've written a little script, humor me - please? I'll be with you very soon.

Nick x

Oh, and enjoy the wings (no they aren't dinner)

The confusion and curiosity in Jess's mind reached fever pitch as she sank her teeth into a spicy wing, tearing away the flesh. With her other hand she put the first page to one side and licked her fingers as she turned to the second.

Across the top in large letters was written, 'Enter Nick'. And as if by cue he magically appeared on the other side of the bar from her (okay, so he later admitted he had been watching her from across the room, but this sounded much better when they later recounted the story). She let out a little gasp of surprise; slowly, her mouth moved to form a large 'O' shape as she took in the sight in front of her. Nick Miller, dressed to kill. The first thing she noticed was he had shaved; picking through her memories she couldn't think of a time she had ever seen him like that - looking so damn clean! Yeah, he was always a good looking guy but this was a different kind of handsome. She swallowed the last of her wing as she looked him over: he was wearing a crisp white shirt, black tie and smart slacks that looked just the right kind of tight. She felt a little hot flush and she wasn't entirely sure she could blame it on the wings.

"Um, hi Nick," she stuttered, finally realizing she was staring and needed to say something before he thought she was insane. He didn't reply; instead he gave her lopsided smile - one that hinted at nervousness but also modesty - and pointed at the paper in front.

"Your script," he told her. She was about to protest that this was really dumb when she shook her head, gave small sigh and started reading.

"I'm so crazy, I just can't hide it," she read before pausing and looking up at him, "Nick - I did not say that."

He gave her a little shrug and said, "Close enough -keep going, please?" he looked at her with his soft, puppy dog eyes and she finally nodded for him to continue. "Where would you hide it?" he finished, picking up a bottle of wine from behind the bar and topping up her glass.

She looked back at the paper, "Maybe you should be my rebound? Get all that sexual tension off the table," she smiled as she read - yeah, that clearly worked out well.

"No," came his reply as he calmly placed his palms on the bar. Jess quickly turned over the paper, looking for more 'lines' but they were none.

"No?" she said, tilting her head to one side in a questioning manner.

"No. I don't want to be your rebound," he replied, taking a sip of his own drink as he waited for her to respond. She could see a light sweat forming on his forehead - was he nervous?

"So what do you want?" she asked, not able to think of something more eloquent to say.

"I want to be more than that. I wanna be the guy who gets to watch movies on the couch with you, who wakes up to your face in the morning, the one who gets to fight with you, make up with you..." his voice became quieter as he spoke, leaning into her - not wanting to share this intimate conversation with the barflies who sat around, "And that's all a bit scary and intense..." he continued with small sigh, "And I've probably just freaked you out... So, for now, I'd really like to start by going on a date with ya'."

It took a few moments for his words to sink in; she hadn't expected this at all. Deep down she still felt that creeping uncertainty and distrust that lingered after a break up. Surely, a guy can't be this nice? There must be strings attached? Yet, here he was, saying he wanted something, something real with her. And more than that, he wanted to do it right. She filled her mouth with another sip of the pink wine before she met his expectant gaze and gave him a cheeky smile. "I think - I think that sounds like a pretty great idea," she replied, feeling her smile grow larger as she spoke, before she watched a wave of relief flash over his face: his smile turning brighter, his eyes lighting up at her words.

"Phew," he sighed, raising his eyebrows. Then, he reached beneath the bar and started to pull on a suit jacket - her heart skipped a beat when she saw the full effect. Nick Miller in a suit; all sharp lines and well cut wool. She was amazed how different one man could look dependent on the state of his facial hair and a change of clothes. And all this effort was for her? Rounding the bar until he reached where she sat, he took hold of her hand and helped her down from the stool. "Dinner?" he asked. She nodded coyly and followed him out of the bar.

Their first date consisted of dinner, drinks and even a little dancing (he said he didn't dance but it was a special occasion so he had made an exception). The conversation had flowed easily between them over the night as they sipped wine and ate fancy Italian food. In fact, time had gone by so quickly that before they knew it several hours had passed though it felt like no time at all.

They took a cab back to the loft; each unsure of how this would work. They had been on a date but had already slept together - what did that mean for the first date rules? They were technically going back to each other's apartments but then, they lived together. It gave her a headache thinking about it so she pushed these thoughts to the back of her mind and lay her head on his shoulder, watching as the street lights zipped by, casting long shadows over his face.

Once home, he had opened the fridge and pulled out two bottles of beer before taking her hand and leading her up to the roof; neither wanting the date to be over yet. They quietly sat on lawn chairs, sipping the beer and watching the city lights sparkle in the distance like a blaze burning far away. Both were deep in contemplation - now that they had been on a date what would happen next? It all seemed so complicated.

She started to tap her heel again against the hard grey concrete of the roof, trying to think of something smart or witty to say to break the tension. In the end it was Nick who spoke first.

"Jessica," he said, her name slipping out in a silky smooth drawl, "This has been by far the best date I've had in a long time. A really long time," he paused as he twisted a little so he could see the outline of her profile against the faint light on the horizon. He watched as thin tendrils of hair were whipped up by the scant breeze and danced around her face before he took a deep breath and continued, "I think this could be the start of something really special."

"Nick, this has been great - really great," she began, still watching the city stretched out in front of her, "And I feel something too... But I'm worried."

He felt his stomach drop to the floor as she spoke, "What are you worried about?" he asked - afraid himself of what her answer might be.

She bit her lip and looked at him feeling all at once a wave of affection and passion that took her by surprise, "I'm afraid it won't work out. I'm afraid it will all go wrong. I mean after Spencer..." he saw little tears form in her eyes - the betrayal several months ago still fresh in her heart, "And I didn't even feel with him...the way I'm feeling now."

All at once he wanted to laugh, smile, kiss her and hold her - tell her everything would be fine, that he would never hurt her. But he knew he couldn't - life had no guarantees like that. Instead, he laid his arm over her shoulder and held her tightly.

"I wish I could tell you that everything will be good, that there will be no bumps in the road - that I won't mess up," he kissed the top of her head lightly and she felt a warm glow spread from that point. "But I can't. I've been hurt, real bad too," he grimaced, "And I wanted to stop trying - 'til I met you."

His hand slid down her arm and he intertwined his fingers with hers, their thighs touching, his body heat chasing away the night chill from her. He raised her hand and began to kiss each knuckle lightly, "What I can promise is that I'm a decent guy and I will try so hard to make you happy, 'cause you're an amazing woman, Jess."

"You're pretty special too," she replied with a small smile.

"Yeah?" he said, surprised.

"Yeah," she echoed, placing a soft kiss on his lips, wrapping her hand around his neck and looking up into his eyes. "I'm scared Nick. But I'm willing to try - if you are."

His reply was to dip his head to it rested against hers, running his thumb over her hand as he paused, "I would love that," he finally told her.

And with that they kissed, a longing, yearning promise of a kiss filled with the optimism of a new beginning and hope for what might be. Hands dug into hair, skin pressed against skin, chests heaved. Finally, they settled into a quiet embrace, leaning against one another in deep contemplation. "Wait, what are we going to do about Schmidt? He's gonna flip a lid when we tell him we're..."

"Dating?" he finished for her.

"Yeah, dating," she copied, rolling it around on her tongue, like an unfamiliar word she was just learning to say.

"He'll get over it. Eventually," he laughed, "Let's just try not to rub it in his face too much." They both laughed a little imagining his reaction to the news.

"So what now?" she asked with a glint in her eye.

"Well, as it's our first date, I guess I should walk you to your door," he replied, giving her a small wink.

"I think that's a plan. Take me home, Miller," she laughed, swinging her arms around his neck as he picked her up in his arms and carried her down the small flight of stairs and back into the loft.

This was going to be the last chapter, but there will be one more. How does Schmidt actually react? How do things work out for Nick and Jess?