Set between seasons 1 and 2. Michael and Nikita enjoy dinner together.
"Alright. I'm hungry. I'm gonna grab dinner at the diner down the road. What do you want?" Pushing away from the table, Michael sighed. He and Nikita had spent the last few hours studying the stolen schematics of the prison Ryan had been sent to. Nikita was determined to break him out. He didn't deserve to be imprisoned after he had helped her save the CIA from Division. She had to set him free. Michael was willing to help her do that; however, he couldn't think straight while he was hungry and tired. He needed a break. They both did.
"Veggie burger and fruit please," Nikita hardly glanced up from the laptop. She could admit that she needed to eat, yet she was going to keep working until she couldn't anymore. She wouldn't let Ryan suffer in prison for doing the right thing. He should be free and able to fight Division on the outside with the rogues. He should also be back in the CIA, yet that was harder for Nikita to accomplish.
"Anything else?" Grabbing his shoes, keys, and wallet, Michael asked. He'd have to make Nikita stop working later. Whether she believed it or not, it was okay if she took a break. But while he got them dinner, she could keep thinking of possible plans. The sooner they broke Ryan out of prison, the better.
Nikita shook her head before she fully realized what Michael had asked her. She was okay with what she had ordered. She didn't need anything else, "No. I'm good with just water."
"Okay. But if I get fries, will you steal them?" Michael actually got Nikita's attention. He had also thought they could just drink the water bottles they had in their motel room. He didn't need her drink order. What he wanted to know was if she planned on being a little thief.
Smiling sheepishly, Nikita shrugged. There was no use in trying to deny it. She could never stop herself from stealing Michael's food, "Yeah…"
"Yeah, I thought so," Michael chuckled softly. He kissed Nikita sweetly, turning her embarrassed grin into a brilliant smile. He couldn't help but kiss her again before he left the motel room, "I'll be right back."
It took Nikita a second to refocus on her task. Her mind was entirely too preoccupied by Michael and his kisses even after he left. She had to shake her head and remind herself that she had something just as important to think about (well, not equally important, but still important). Rubbing her tired eyes, she resumed studying the prison schematics. She and Michael had managed to steal blueprints of the prison's layout and information about guards, cameras, and security measures. They had everything they needed to plan Ryan's escape. They simply lacked the resources to pull any possible idea off.
When Michael returned, Nikita was staring blankly at the laptop, her hair clutched in her hands. He sighed. It was definitely time for a break. They'd figure something out after they ate and rested. Creating a plan while they were frustrated wouldn't help anybody. Also, time away could give them clarity and spark ideas.
Dumping the food on the table, Michael handed Nikita her order. She didn't take it. She continued to tear her hair out over a plan, unwilling to be distracted. She wouldn't stop until she came to some sort of conclusion. Michael decided that the conclusion should be to stop thinking for a while. He simply had to get her to agree. Making her realize she was stuck could've done the trick, "You have any new ideas?"
"We fake a prison transfer and Ryan's in the infirmary?" Nikita wasn't entirely sure if even that would work. There were too many unknown variables. And she only had half thought out ideas. No exit strategies were considered, nor were any contingencies. She was absolutely stuck. She had no real way of rescuing her friend.
"How are you going to communicate that with him?" Michael threw another wrench in Nikita's idea. He didn't mean to. However, he had a point. The two should probably focus on communication with Ryan first. That could solve some of their problems.
"I don't know," Slumping in her chair, Nikita admitted defeat. She and Ryan had worked on a way of communication in the past in case he ever got in trouble for helping her fight Division. Yet she had no idea how she was supposed to discuss escape with him through that method. It might be too dangerous to do so; it could raise issues they weren't prepared to face.
Finally closing the laptop, Michael called it quits for the night. He removed the computer completely from the table, and shoved Nikita's food towards her, "Take a break. Eat."
Softly, Nikita smiled and moved her hair out of her face. She hadn't realized how hungry she actually was until she took a bite of her veggie burger. She completely relaxed as she ate, making Michael smile. The two enjoyed their dinner in silence for a moment. It wasn't until she reached to steal one of his fries that either of them said anything. He hadn't bought a normal order of fries; he had a huge basket full. It surprised Nikita. Usually, Michael was content with a cheeseburger and a regular sized portion of fries. He must've been starving. Or there was some sort of mistake, "That's a lot of food you got there."
"I got extra so you don't steal all my fries and make me starve," Smirking, Michael pulled the basket of fries closer to himself. He had once tried to order Nikita her own fries so she wouldn't steal from him, but she took his food anyway; she had claimed that his tasted better. So from then on, he decided to just order a larger size for himself. He could eat all the fries he wanted, and she could steal freely.
"You can have the melon in my fruit cup," Rolling her eyes, Nikita compromised. Michael wasn't a food stealer; he waited until she offered, then he gladly ate it. But she could offer him that chance of retribution. It was somewhat fair.
"You mean the fruit you don't like?" As he took the offered piece of melon, Michael called Nikita out. She only offered him the food that she didn't want. Otherwise, she was weirdly protective of her meal or snack. He didn't attempt to steal from her for fear of her retaliation. He had a feeling it'd be more than a smack of his hand.
"I like melon. I just don't like to eat it," Nikita tried to argue. When she did order an assortment of fruit, she never ate the melon. However, that didn't mean she hated it. She just preferred all the other fruit. She liked watermelon, after all; that was somewhat related.
"You hate it," Michael chuckled. He hadn't known Nikita to be picky about her food- besides the fact that she was a vegetarian. So it was fun to know that there was something she refused to eat based solely on taste. The two continued to discover things about each other as their relationship progressed and became more profound.
Rolling her eyes again, Nikita stole more fries. Michael smirked and slid the basket closer to her. She fought a smile while she glared, "Oh. You think you know me so well, Michael?"
"I absolutely do, Nikita," Moving closer to Nikita, Michael invaded her space. She pushed him away with a scoff. He just laughed some more.
"Is that how you knew it was me in the steam room?" Nikita asked the question that had sprang to mind while she had been pouring over the prison schematics, much to Michael's confusion. He stopped laughing to stare at her in bewilderment.
Although Michael eventually realized that Nikita was talking about the steam room they had both broken into months ago to question the Russian mob about Alex's disappearance, he had no idea why she was asking about it then. They had saved Alex (though, she was lost at the moment) and different problems required their attention then. He couldn't grasp what Nikita was thinking. With her mind-leaps, he hardly could, "What?"
Nikita used the second it took for her to chew her food to think of how to explain herself. She had had that moment in the Russian steam room on her mind for a while. She had to ask Michael about it. Once he understood her, "So, I've been thinking about how we're gonna know where Ryan is so we can break him out without causing too much trouble with the security system. But without hacking into the cameras, we can't really do that. Then, I thought about how you knew I was in the Russian steam room and was prepared to counter my attack without any cameras. And I want to know how you did that."
"Your mind works in weird ways," Still trying to figure out how Nikita moved onto that topic, Michael commented. Her thinking was never straightforward or sensical. He always felt like he had to jump through hoops to catch up with her train of thought. It hadn't become any easier since they were together. He was simply taken along for the ride.
"Come on. How'd you know?" Nikita repeated her question. There weren't any cameras where the Russian mobsters met. And Michael couldn't have heard her through the doors (otherwise, the guards would've known she was threatening their bosses in the room). So there had to have been some other way that he had known she was there. He couldn't have guessed it. He had been far too prepared for her strike to have just assumed she was in the room.
"The guard was able to describe you pretty accurately," Shrugging, Michael returned to his dinner. He didn't really want to discuss the moment any further. His answer should've been enough. But, of course, Nikita wasn't satisfied.
"Huh. I didn't think he paid a lot of attention to my face," Recalling the way the door guard had regarded her before she conned her way into the steam room, Nikita didn't believe he had looked at anything besides her body. That was what she had wanted so she could question the mobsters without suspicion. She had also wanted the guard to be so distracted by her 'assets' that he couldn't describe her accurately incase Division began investigating. But she guessed she had failed with the latter. Michael had still known it was her.
"He definitely paid attention to you," Michael scoffed. Honestly, though, who couldn't look at Nikita when she walked into a room. She stole attention wherever she went.
"What'd he say?" Curious, Nikita asked. She was far more interested in what made Michael think of her than what the guard could have ever said.
However, Michael wouldn't answer Nikita immediately. He awkwardly ate his cheeseburger and some fries, and shrugged. He didn't intend to say anything else, but her brown eyes bore into him. He had to say something just to make her look away, "You know, just that you had dark hair and long legs."
"Okay? That's pretty basic. Did he also describe my eyes or the tattoos on my arms? Or something that made you know it was me?" Nikita attempted to pry more information from Michael. Lots and lots of women had dark hair and long legs. The guard had to have said something more specific. What exactly was it that made Michael picture her. What about her always captured his attention.
"Yeah… something like that," Michael should've owned up to his conversation with the door guard. Drawing it out only made his slight embarrassment worse, especially since Nikita could make him say anything she wanted.
"What'd he say?" Scooting her chair closer to Michael's, Nikita made him look her in the eyes. She wasn't going to let him avoid the topic. He had built it up too much by avoiding it. She needed to know, and he had to spill.
Sighing, Michael gave in. Though, he did have to shift his green eyes. Nikita would read too much in them, and find new ways to tease him, "He said you were hot."
"That's it! That was all it took! There's like four million women in New York City. There was a one in four million chance that I was the woman in that room. But the second the guard said I was hot, you eliminated four million other women. I'm the only hot woman in the entire world. No one else is hot but me," Nikita couldn't help but repeat herself as she squealed in laughter. She couldn't believe Michael knew she was in the room because the guard had called her hot. It was just so ridiculous. How much was she on his mind that he had assumed the hot, tall, brunette was her. She knew he had had it bad for her, but not that bad.
"Okay. Hold on. I already suspected that you were somehow involved with Alex's disappearance. I had a feeling you guys were connected in some way, even before I knew she was your mole. So I made a guess that you knew to talk to the same Russian mobsters," Immediately trying to defend himself, Michael backtracked. Yes, the guard's description did make him suspect that Nikita was in the steam room. But, he had already assumed that she'd involve herself in the search for Alex somehow. The description only solidified the thought.
"Oh. Okay," Nikita continued to laugh as she mocked him. Michael could try to defend himself all he wanted, yet she knew the truth. She was the only hot woman in his eyes.
"You don't want me admitting that you're hot?" Michael simply shot back. Arguing with Nikita over that topic would be a losing battle. He knew she had a reason to poke fun of him. Yet he couldn't take his thoughts back. She was always beautiful to him.
"I want you to admit that you were obsessed with me," Nikita glared playfully. She didn't need Michael telling her how attracted to her he was; she could see it in his eyes whenever he looked at her. She simply wanted him to admit what they both knew- that she had had him wrapped around her finger longer than they had been together.
Michael could continue to defend his past actions. Or he could flip the script on Nikita and accuse her of all the times she had been obsessed with him. Instead, he decided to own up to the fact. He loved her. There was no reason to hide it, even if he could hide it. Michael loved Nikita, so of course he'd be obsessed with her, "Still am."
Blushing vibrantly, Nikita grinned goofily and ducked her head. Michael smiled, took her hand in his, and kissed her knuckles. Her grin and blush brightened, "You're an idiot."
"I'm going to take that as an I love you," Chuckling softly, Michael kissed Nikita's cheek. She instantly turned her head so he'd kiss her on the lips as well. Both smiled into the affection. It was sweet and simple and perfect.
While the two kissed, Michael dared to steal more of Nikita's fruit. He thought it was a good way to tease her back, and see if he was right about her possible reaction. Except, as he took hold of a strawberry, she broke from the kiss. He barely had time to pull his hand from the bowl of fruit before she attacked. Nikita grabbed his wrist, twisted, and crushed his hand in her grip. Michael was forced to drop the strawberry. She snapped, "Hey! Melons only."
"So you do hate them," Massaging his sore hand, Michael brought the conversation back to where it once was. Nikita rolled her eyes and pulled her food away from him. He smirked and moved the basket of fries out of her reach. Two could play that game.
"I like watermelon," Nikita stood up and grabbed a fry, silently daring Michael to stop her. He continued to smirk. He knew ways to get back at her. She might've been quicker with taunts and jabs than him, but he could play the long game. Michael could retaliate when Nikita least expected it, which made it all the more fun for him.
"Oh. Okay," Michael used the same disbelieving inflection on the words that Nikita had. She threw the fry at him. He jerked her chair even closer to him. Although the two attempted to glare at each other throughout their childish acts, they broke down in laughter. The rest of their dinner went like that. They laughed, joked, messed with each other, talked, and absolutely enjoyed their time together. They had so much fun, they decided to just spend the whole night like that. Forming action plans could wait until after they were completely rested. Michael and Nikita could simply fall into bed at the end of the night together, happy and in love.
