#Jack Halifax

[noxhawthorne]

Flickerbeat: Prologue

Note: there are some things referred to in the prologue that you won’t know (mostly the names of guns in the future). Those will be accompanied by illustrations in the final novel.

The stargazer fish is an interesting little guy. One wouldn’t necessarily call them physically beautiful like some of their other fish friends, with two bulbous eyes on top of their heads and the complexion of mottled mold. They’re an ambush fish, meaning they hide on the ocean floor, watching their prey. Poisoned spines are their weapon, but there’s another interesting aspect of the nightmarish fish. It has organs in its head capable of producing up to fifty volts of electricity, making it a deadly predator.

In the Philippine Sea, in the year 2052, there was more than one type of stargazer. While the fish hid in the dark depths of a black sea, the U.S.S. Pensacola cut through the surface, churning water and sea foam in its wake. It was an aircraft carrier, one that held over four-thousand Navy and Marine Corps personnel, and that was powered by a shoddy nuclear reactor that could go at any moment (at least that’s what engineers had been saying for the past five years… and yet she was afloat). The Pensacola had been assigned to watch for enemy activity in the area, the enemy being the Armed Forces of the Philippines. Following the second Korean War, in which the North Korean regime was dismantled, it was believed that many of the country’s weapon supply caches were moved to allied nations, hidden from the hands of the United States government. Since then, a silent war had been raging between East and West, one made up of subtle threats and espionage. That was the Pensacola’s assignment. Survey the area for enemy activity.

Of the personnel on board, most were asleep in their racks, the sheets stiff and mattress thin. After a day on board, the scratchy cloth-covered rack felt like a cloud of heavenly comfort.

However, not everyone was resting peacefully. On the flight deck, standing in the midst of the salty sea air, were a dozen sailors and their leader, one of five Force Reconnaissance Marines on board, a tall and intimidating man that went by the callsign ‘Jaws’. The sailors were performing maintenance on an experimental aircraft, the latest attempt by the U.S. military to create a combat-ready stealth jet. Meanwhile, Jaws was peering through a pair of night vision spectacles, head on a constant swivel as he watched for movement on the horizon, an XRS-52 in hand and loaded.

However, it was below deck, in the Hangar Bay - a large room with only two walls, the other two open to the night air - that the second type of stargazer could be found.

Scarlet Adams, callsign ‘Stargazer’.

Another one of the unlucky few on the night shift, she too had watch orders, her main focus being unidentified vessels. She was to look over the dark ocean, watching for any potential enemy ships coming within range of the Pensacola. This wasn’t her first time, having stood in the exact spot nearly a dozen times since leaving Amnia Bay, and it wasn’t that bad of an assignment. At this hour, the Hangar was quiet, leaving the slosh of the ocean’s wake to fill her ears. Various aircraft and a few gray shipping containers filled the otherwise empty space, the normally white fluorescent lights replaced by dim red ones.

Scarlet leaned against the frame of an open wall, though it wasn’t the sea that she was watching. It was the stars, vibrant this far out from the light pollution of civilization. Prior to joining the Corps, Scarlet had studied astronomy, igniting her passion for the celestial cosmos. She intended to further pursue her studies, but… well, the Butterfly Effect cut her time in academia short.

The catalyst was a simple request: to borrow a pen. It had been the beginning of her fourth year astronomy course, stuffed in a musty class room twelve other students. The walls had been covered in maps of the stars, with dusty bookshelves lining the bottom. If Scarlet focused hard enough, she could still smell that room, even nearly two years later.

She had been focusing on an assignment, diligently preparing it to be turned in, blocking out all other sights and sounds. It was a tap on her shoulder that gained her attention, and she quickly turned to see a familiar face. Jack Halifax, a transfer student from across the country. He had only been at the university for a few weeks, and seemed to be the ‘class clown’ type. The professor would often bring up a Holo-Graphic of the stars, using a laser pointer to circle each cluster he was speaking about. When this happened, Jack would take out his own laser pointer, and discreetly use it to mess with the professor. It was funny in a way, but always annoyed Scarlet to know end.

“Can I borrow a pen?” he had whispered, holding his up to show the clearly empty ink cell.

Scarlet, being ever prepared, reached into her bag and gave him a new one, not thinking much of it. He thanked her, and returned to the assignment.

When class had finished, Jack returned the pen with a small piece of paper wrapped around it. All it said was ‘Dinner?’ with a phone number below it. Call her sappy, but Scarlet fell for it, deciding to give this guy a chance. What could go wrong, after all?

One date turned to two, then two to four, and, before they knew it, the two had fallen head-over-heels for one another. It was a love that tamed Jack, yet freed Scarlet, opening her up to adventures she never fathomed. They were seemingly inseparable, a bonded pair that clung to one another.

So, when Jack expressed interest in joining the Marine Corps, Scarlet found herself eager to go with him. Not as a military wife, but as a fellow Marine, one that no longer feared her own death, but the death of her lover. She knew the pain of being alone all too well, having never known her father, while her mother died in a car crash when Scarlet was young. She’d been alone most of her life, and it had felt normal. Now that she had experienced the warm of Jack’s presence, the thought of reliving that emptiness sickened her. So, when Jack went to the recruitment center, Scarlet tagged along. By the end, they both had a one way ticket to Officer Candidate School.

During their training, it was determined by higher ranking officers that both would excellent candidates for Force Reconnaissance, having a knack for gathering information and being talented marksman. When offered the chance to take the Basic Reconnaissance Course and attend Marine Special Operations School, Jack accepted without hesitation. Scarlet, on the other hand, was apprehensive, having hoped to become a pilot instead. However, it was the excitement she saw glinting in Jack’s eyes that convinced her to join him once more.

Prior to the second Korean War, call signs were mainly used for aviators. However, following the capture, extortion, and subsequent execution of Reconnaissance officers by North Korea in 2038, it was determined that call signs were necessary for anyone serving with a secret security clearance. The enemy couldn’t know who was working Recon if their names weren’t used, and that was who they targeted to most.

Scarlet gave Jack his call sign — ‘Jackalope’, a nickname she’d given him back in college. Because of her astronomy degree, and her affinity for gazing up at the night sky during drills, she was dubbed ‘Stargazer’.

In the quiet Hangar, Scarlet was doing much the same, this time admiring the Orion constellation. If she had been performing her duties, she might’ve seen the silhouette sneaking up behind her, each step deliberate, planned. Instead, she was startled out of her thoughts when two hands gently slid around her waist, giving her a soft squeeze.

“Hey, lil’ Stargazer,” the voice of Jack whispered in her ear, breath hot and smelling of stale coffee.

Scarlet relaxed, leaning back against the man who held her, a content smile gracing her lips.

“You’re supposed to be on watch,” she said, though her tone had no malice, but rather a slight laugh.

“So are you,” Jack countered, his lips moving down, skirting the skin of her neck.

“I am!”

Jack pulled Scarlet in closer, resting his chin on her shoulder. His presence was more soothing to her than the stars.

“Sure you are,” he muttered knowingly, kissing behind her ear, “which one were you looking at?”

He knew her too well, aware of her tendency to focus on a particular star rather than the cluster that the sky offered.

“Meissa,” she responded, “it’s bright tonight.”

“Show it to me,” he whispered with a tone that sent goosebumps rising across Scarlet’s skin.

“You, uh, you know where it is. Professor Weldon covered that.”

“Mm, you know I never paid attention,” Jack said, his fingertips caressing her waist, “my eyes were always on something else…”

Scarlet could feel herself melting in Jack’s arms, this kind of physical touch having been foreign to her prior to their relationship. Her heart was beating a little faster.

Raising her hand up, she pointed to the sky.

“Well… well, you see Orion’s Belt?”

Jack made a sound of affirmation, his eyes following where Scarlet pointed. She moved her hand up further, tracing the invisible lines of the constellation.

“Go up on either side… those two stars are Betelgeuse and Bellatrix…”

“Mmhm,” Jack mumbled, kissing her neck.

“You’re not even looking,” Scarlet said, quietly gasping when she felt a gentle bite on the sensitive skin of her throat.

“Of course I am… keep going.”

Scarlet hesitated, savoring the slight sting from his teeth.

“And then… then the one above them, in the middle… that’s Meissa.”

Jack hummed, nodding, “Almost as brilliant as you.”

Scarlet felt her face begin to heat up, a light pink hue filling them. Her lips twisted into a lovestruck smile. Twisting in his arms, she turned to face Jack, finding her look mirrored back. She cupped his cheeks, reaching up to gently kiss him. Soft lips caressed her own, reciprocating the love received.

As the kiss broke, Scarlet sighed in content. She had never felt as safe as she did with him. There was never any pretending, no fear of judgement, just… acceptance, something she had yearned for, something she had never experienced. She was accustomed to being the outcast, the last chosen in gym class, the only one without a valentine. Alone. She had always been alone.

It was then that a twinge of sadness tugged at her heart, a common occurrence since joining the Marines. One that Jack was familiar with, easily recognizing the shift in her demeanor.

“In your head again?” he asked, knowing her all too well.

She nodded, a slight sting burning her eyes. Without another word, Jack pulled Scarlet into a tight embrace, rubbing her back as he held her.

“Three more years,” he said, “then it’s you and me.”

“I know,” Scarlet whispered, burying her face in his chest.

The truth was, Scarlet didn’t want to be a Marine. She wanted to be with Jack, by his side wherever he went. She wanted a quiet home and an average life. Simplicity, comfort, and the knowledge that Jack, too, was happy and safe. That’s what she wanted, not watching for the enemy through the darkness of night, or traveling the oceans on a dying ship. She wanted peace. As she stood there in Jack’s arms, eyes closed, she could almost feel it.

It didn’t last long, as Scarlet suddenly registered a low buzz. Her face scrunched as she listened to it, trying to separate the crashing waves from the sound. It was becoming louder, almost like a bee buzzing near her ear. Lifting her head from Jack’s chest, she looked at him in confusion. From the look on his face, she could tell he heard the same sound.

“What is that?” Scarlet asked, turning to look out over the dark sea.

A loud rumble shook the ship, causing Scarlet to grab ahold of the wall’s edge. It was accompanied by squealing and incoherent shouts from the flight deck.

Scarlet looked to Jack, both of them wide-eyed.

“The reactor,” she muttered.

Springing into action, Scarlet ran towards the hatch, prepared to wake the crew for evacuation. She was stopped when Jack caught her by the wrist. Looking back at him, she was prepared to rip her arm away. That changed when she saw the grave expression painted across his face.

With a grim tone, Jack spoke, “That wasn’t the reactor.”

———

Atop the flight deck, a strange aircraft was powering down. It was as big as a cargo plane, yet built like a stealth fighter jet, sleek in its design. The sailors gathered around the back of the craft, where the only obvious exit was. Jaws was on pointe, aiming his rifle at the cargo hold. There were no identifiable markings on the aircraft, but it clearly did not belong on board.

Suddenly, the latch released, and the hold’s door slowly began to open. Jaws’ grip tightened, the full force of his focus on whoever was trespassing. However, as the door lowered, no discernible figures could be made out. Instead, they saw that the interior was unlit, whatever or whoever was inside hidden by the shadows.

Jaws, not known for his patience, grit his teeth and shouted, “This is a United States Naval vessel! State your intentions!”

Silence. The sailors started to shift, looking at each other nervously, their hands clamming up around their rifles.

Then, out of the darkness came a spark, and a small flame illuminated a black gloved hand.

“Intentions,” Jaws shouted, growing more enraged by the moment.

The hand lifted the flame, bringing it up to the tip of a cigarette. Beyond that, the sailors and Jaws could make out a pair of chapped lips, and two circular lenses above, barely reflecting the flickering fire.

———

Scarlet and Jack remained silent, the buzz having stopped after the ship shook. They stared at each other, frozen in place, unsure of what to do. If it *had* been the reactor, alarms should be going off, signaling an evacuation and imminent rescue from other vessels in the area. However, the only sound either could hear was the gentle lapping of waves against the ship.

That quickly changed as gunfire rang out, accompanied by shouts and screams of agony.

“Shit, get the rest of Recon up,” Scarlet said, an edge of panic to her voice.

She sprinted to where her rifle laid, near a hatch that led up to the flight deck. Picking up her weapon, she was about to pull open the hatch, when she suddenly stopped.

Jack was about twenty feet behind her, watching in confusion as she pressed her ear to the door.

“Scarlet? What —“

Scarlet shushed him. There was a consistent *thud, thud, thud* going down the ladder, getting louder as it came closer. It sounded similar to a ball rolling down a set of stairs. Then, there was a heavy *clunk* as it hit the hatch.

Silence.

*Beep.*

Suddenly, a small explosion split open the hatch, sending Scarlet flying backwards with the force. A chunk of metal slammed against her head, leaving a deep gash that ran across her cheek, blood spilling from the wound. She went limp.

“Scarlet,” Jack shouted, running to where her body laid. He knelt down, panic rushing through him as he searched for her pulse. Relief ran through him as he found the rhythmic beat, and saw her fading in and out of consciousness, but it was short lived as a new sound came from the smokey ladderwell. It was the sound of footsteps, slow and deliberate.

Grabbing the collar of Scarlet’s uniform, Jack began to drag her to the port-side opening. He kept looking to the exposed ladderwell, watching as a pair of legs came into view. With each step, more of the person was revealed. It was someone in a black combat uniform, holding a white DE-52. As they reached the last step, Jack could see a cigarette hanging from the person’s lips, the rest of their face covered by a matte black mask. It was smooth, featureless, except for two black lenses over the eyes.

Reaching the opening, Jack quickly took off his dog tags, putting them around Scarlet’s neck. He had a dreadful feeling he knew how this would end.

*Bang!*

A fiery pain radiated through Jack’s shoulder, a bullet cracking the bone. It went through to the other side, hitting the wall and leaving a small dent. Blood quickly soaked his uniform, tacky and thick. The wound left him weak, though his determination to give Scarlet a shot at survival made him push through the searing pain.

As the masked man approached, Jack gave one final shove, rolling Scarlet’s body over the side of the ship. He watched as she landed in the water, crashing through the inky black sea. Jack never considered himself a religious man, but in that moment, he prayed for her rescue.

———

Just below the surface, Scarlet could barely see the Pensacola through her blurred vision. A black tunnel was beginning to surround her vision, but she could make out moving blobs above her. She heard the muffled sound of gunfire, along with the sight of a quick, bright flash. One of the blobs fell on the extended Hangar Bay deck, barely visible at the edge.

Then, black.

[cuervom]

I was thinking, what would think Ann Walker, that I think she didn't felt loved by many members of her own family, if she would know that 200 years later there are many many people not just remembering her, but also loving her, admiring her and feeling very proud of her courage.

[gentlejack]

🎩 so i met miss lister today

[peewitkestrel]

[wildheart71]

I'll never tire of drawing Anne Lister as portrayed by Suranne Jones. Hope you don't get sick of seeing them ;)

Prints available on my Etsy store

[she-is-27-i-checked]

genuine good faith question: what do you have against sally wainwright and gentleman jack?

Bestie please review the evidence....

My issues with Sally Wainwright also cover the absolute cluster fuck that was the final season of Last Tango in Halifax (and the chronic Lesbian Death Syndrome that show suffers from)

[marlagraysonn]

ALBW 2023 👒🎩🫶🏻

[ladygayspanker]

Exactly one week since my wife surprised me with a trip to Halifax for my birthday 😁🎩 ... aka: how to make middle-aged lesbian extremely happy

[monsterintheballroom]

Left the "Chicken out option" (love all of them) out on purpose because sometimes we have to act like real adults and make a decision, whether we like it or not ;-)

[sweetsweetlifex-x]

Just finished re watching Scott and Bailey now onto Gentleman Jack again... Ready to watch Anne Lister stomp around being a boss ass bitch. Suranne Jones hyperfixation.

[noxhawthorne]

Flickerbeat — Prologue Excerpt

“Show it to me,” he whispered with a tone that sent goosebumps rising across Scarlet’s skin.

“You, uh, you know where it is. Professor Weldon covered that.”

“Mm, you know I never paid attention,” Jack said, his fingertips caressing her waist, “my eyes were always on something else…”

Scarlet could feel herself melting in Jack’s arms, this kind of physical touch having been foreign to her prior to their relationship. Her heart was beating a little faster.

Raising her hand up, she pointed to the sky.

“Well… well, you see Orion’s Belt?”

Jack made a sound of affirmation, his eyes following where Scarlet pointed. She moved her hand up further, tracing the invisible lines of the constellation.

“Go up on either side… those two stars are Betelgeuse and Bellatrix…”

“Mmhm,” Jack mumbled, kissing her neck.

“You’re not even looking,” Scarlet said, quietly gasping when she felt a gentle bite on the sensitive skin of her throat.

“Of course I am… keep going.”

Scarlet hesitated, savoring the slight sting from his teeth.

“And then… then the one above them, in the middle… that’s Meissa.”

Jack hummed, nodding, “Almost as brilliant as you.”

[vadellgabriel]

Sweet merch, dope songs, and exclusive beats! you can't lose if you back my Indiegogo for my debut! And if you can't, sharing is still caring! More updates to come soon!

[cuervom]

Please, could we travel back in time to 1840, bring Ann Walker and take care of her??

[footballffbarbiex]

i'm still teary and almost crying over last night's happy valley.

the series itself is dark. it's sweary. it's raw. it gets you mad. it makes you beyond emotional. it's been 12 hours since i finished watching it and honestly, i'm still choked up. it was perfect. i cannot recommend this series enough

[lifewithaview]

Suranne Jones in Gentleman Jack (2019) Let's Have Another Look at Your Past Perfect

S1E5

Reverend Ainsworth arrives in Halifax and, with encouragement from Mrs. Priestley, sets his sights on Ann Walker. Meanwhile, Lister presses on with the transformation of her estate, but her ambitious plans threaten to lead her into trouble...

*Amelia Bullmore (Eliza Priestley) & Suranne Jones (Anne Lister) also worked together on Scott & Bailey (2011) as DCI Gill Murray & DS Rachel Bailey respectively.

[tkwrites]

It Doesn't Matter Part I - Nico Hischier x ofc

Gif from offside-the-lines

Title: It Doesn’t Matter - Part I

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Playlist

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Beginning: Nico Hischier x Original female character 

Summary: Nico and Lena have been friends ever since he played in Halifax. When an opportunity of a lifetime brings Lena to New York, Nico offers up his apartment as her home base despite the fact that he’s been painfully, desperately in love with her for the last six years.

Warnings: Slow burn, mutual pining, friends to lovers, talks of masturbation, but nothing is described, Cliff hanger ending (I’m sorry, I had to!)

Word count: 7,300

Anonymous asked: I saw that you rebloged the Nico fic so I have to ask would you ever be open to write for him?, because the combination of your perfect writing and that sweet man, I would die for sure 😂

Comments: A thousand thanks to 🥭 Anon for requesting this fic! Nico has been such a fun, sweet character to write. I’m sorry for the cliffhanger ending, but I envisioned this fic in 3 parts, and this one had to end here. I hope you enjoy it! 

If you liked this, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. 

It Doesn’t Matter - Part I

“You coming to the bar tonight?” Jesper asked. 

“I can’t, I’m helping Lena move in.” 

“Wait,” Jack said, barging his way into their conversation as per usual, “Lena, Lena? Like Lena from Halifax who you’ve been in love with since you were seventeen?” 

Nico felt a blush flood his cheeks as he nodded. 

“Moving in?”

“She’s coming to New York for an art program this year, so I told her she could stay with me.” 

Jack stared at him, one of his eyebrows cocked up. “You’re sure that’s a good idea?” 

Nico shook his head. 

“No it’s not a good idea, or no you’re not sure?” 

He shrugged. Hell if he knew. He was thrilled to have her close by but knew it would likely be torturous at the same time. 

“Who is Lena?”

“She’s this girl he met when he was playing for the Mooseheads,” Jack explained. “You haven’t heard about her? He never shuts up about her.” 

Blushing, Nico tossed an elbow pad in Jack’s direction. 

“Did you stay with her family or something?” 

“No,” Nico said. “She was friends with our goalie.”

“They’ve been besties ever since, and Nico still hasn’t grown the balls to ask her out.” 

Nico glared at him. 

“What?” Jack asked, shrugging. “You haven’t.”

“It’s complicated.”

“What’s so complicated about it? You like her. She’s single. You’re single. What’s the problem?” 

“I don’t…” he broke off. 

Keeping Lena as a friend was more important than the possibility of him spilling his feelings and risking losing her. Plus, he wasn’t totally sure she’d respond the way he wanted, and he was pretty certain he wouldn’t survive it if she turned him down. 

“So, in the meantime, you’re just breaking up with every girl you’ve dated and overlooking every other woman because they don’t measure up, but you won’t ask her out, so you’re just pining full time.” 

It was stunning, really, how he could talk so accurately about other peoples relationships without seeing the flaws in his own. Nico knew from experience not to bring Madeline up. In situations of talking about failure in relationships, Jack could dish all day long, but he could never quite take it if it was served back at him. 

“Betty at 2:00,” Jack murmured. Watching a petite woman with light hair enter the bar. She had a pretty, heart shaped face and big, expressive eyes.

She turned around, laughing at whoever was following her. Despite the fact that he couldn’t hear her, Jack knew her laugh was the kind that made other people want to laugh along.

Instead of the friend he expected, Nico stepped into the bar after her, looking a little punch drunk. 

Jack nearly choked on his beer.

Well, shit. 

If Lena was as funny and sweet as Nico made her out to be, Jack didn’t think he’d be able to move on from her either. 

She said something to Nico, and he tore his gaze from her to look around the bar. Their eyes met, and he raised a hand in greeting. Jack waved back. 

As they made their way closer, Jack realized her hair was actually light pink. And she had a nose ring: a delicate, jeweled thing hanging from her septum. Instead of calling up a resemblance to a hooked bull, like he usually thought those piercings looked, it made her face more lovely and interesting. The dainty diamond rested in the curve of her cupid's bow, emphasizing the shape of her top lip.

Lena felt herself smile upon walking up to the group of hockey players and their partners. She’d grown up with boys like this, and walking up to them was a bit like walking into her childhood. 

“It’s Jack, right?” Lena asked. She’d seen photos of him from Nico and recognized him right away, along with Jesper, who was sitting on his other side.

“In the flesh. You must be Lena,” Jack said, standing up. He shot her a flirtatious, charming smile.

She couldn’t quite hide her eye roll, “he’s just as cheesy as you said,” she whispered to Nico, who was still standing off to her left. 

Shoulders shaking with laughter, Nico pulled out a chair for her before settling into the one beside it.

God, even in this awful club lighting, she looked beautiful. The finer parts of her face were dulled in the dim, but everything he could see made him long for her. 

Maybe Jack was right. Maybe this was a terrible idea.   

“So, Lena,” Jesper said, leaning back in his chair, “what brings you to the city?” 

“I got accepted into an intensive year-long art program at the New York Institute of Art. I’ve been applying for years, and they finally accepted me.” 

“What kind of art do you do?” Dawson asked. 

He’d wandered to the table as soon as they sat down, and Nico was talking himself down from moving to sit between them. Dawson wouldn’t stop looking at Lena like she’d just fallen from the moon, and he wanted nothing more than to fall into her bed. 

“I paint, but I do a lot of charcoal drawings and pastels, too.” 

“Like the colors?” 

She was used to this question and laughed indulgently at the confused expression on his face. “No, pastels are just pigment with a binder. It’s kind of like paint, but they’re not liquid.” 

“She does amazing stuff,” Nico cut in, knowing she wouldn’t brag about her own work. He was happy to do it for her. “She did all the art in my apartment.” 

The first time Lena had visited him, she was aghast at how little was on his walls. It made his whole house look like a hospital - too sterile and characterless. No wonder he was depressed when he wasn’t playing. His home looked like a place made for leaving. 

So she’d painted for him. Ten canvases in total. Most were landscapes, but there was also a small abstract he always suspected was a kind of self portrait and a strange, dark, modern piece - swirls of color chasing each other across the canvas. When he asked about that one, she’d told him his games inspired it - blurs of black and red darting around the ice. 

She’d even done a large landscape of the view from his childhood window, based on a photo he’d sent her several summers before. Rows and rows of misty roofs tucked into the base of the Alps as the mountains loomed over the town. Somehow, she managed to capture the safe, cocooned feeling of home.

Every time he looked at the painting where it hung, taking up nearly the whole wall opposite his bed, it eased some of his homesickness during the long seasons in New Jersey.  

For months, a package he didn’t order would show up at his door, and he’d open it to reveal yet another piece of her to keep with him. 

When the Naters painting arrived, he’d called her practically in tears. She told him she knew he missed home and hoped it would bring a little bit of home to Jersey. 

He forced her to accept repayment for shipping such a large canvas and made her promise to let him pay if she was sending any more. Instead, she’d brought an additional four with her on her next visit.

Dawson looked even more enamored as he said, “that stuff is really good!” 

Nico couldn’t remember Dawson taking any particular interest in the art when he’d been at his house before. Jack had noticed it, which had spurred the conversation about Lena in the first place. 

She offered him a thankful smile that Nico was pleased to see, was void of any flirtation. 

They had a drink a piece before she began to yawn. Nico wasn’t surprised. She’d driven from Halifax to Maine the day before and then from Maine to New Jersey that morning. He’d helped her unload her things before she insisted they come to the kickoff party. 

“I’m really sorry,” she apologized, covering her mouth. 

“You’ve had a long day,” Dawson said, encouraging, “you should go get some sleep.” 

She smiled indulgently at him before standing from the table. She really was exhausted. Plus alcohol always made her sleepy. 

When they got home, Lena asked, “Do you mind if I let cookie out?” 

He shook his head, going to the kitchen to get some water. 

A few minutes later, her light orange tabby cat came skulking into the kitchen, eyeing everything suspiciously. When they made eye contact, Cookie narrowed his eyes as he stalked over. 

After sniffing his socks, he seemed to decide he was the same person he’d always been and rubbed his face on Nicos leg. 

Walking into the kitchen, Lena heard Nico murmuring in German. As always, it made her stomach twist a little. She’d known him for six years, and it wasn’t that she forgot he was from Switzerland so much as she forgot how sexy his voice sounded speaking the language he’d grown up with. Even with her limited understanding of German, she got the distinct impression he sounded more like himself than when he spoke English. 

Rounding the kitchen island, she expected to find him crouched down, talking to one of his siblings on the phone while digging something out of a low drawer. Instead, his phone was nowhere to be found, and he was speaking to Cookie, who had flopped onto his side, happy to be receiving pets. 

“Oh,” she said before she could stop herself. The sight of Nico loving on her cat made her heart thunk into her ribs.

This, right here, is why she originally told him she was staying in the city. 

He had insisted there was no reason she needed to spend the money when he was right across the river. When she’d hesitated, he played his ace, bribing her with Cookie. “You can bring him, and both of you can stay,” he’d said, “you wouldn’t have to leave him with your parents.” 

Even though she knew it would suck to be around him all the time, knowing he didn’t have any interest in her, she’d caved right away.

The problem with Nico was that he was just so damn sweet. He did everything from the bottom of his heart and was genuinely happy to help. As soon as she managed to convince herself she didn’t love him, he would go and do something like insist she stay with him not only for finances, but because she wouldn’t have to leave her cat behind, and feeling would swoop into her heart again.

This was her last undoing for the night. Not only had she watched him carry her things into his apartment, his hockey-hardened body taking the brunt of the weight with ease, she’d had to listen to him laugh and tease while he flashed his dimples at her all day. And now, he was sweet talking her cat in German.

God, how was she going to survive this? 

Nico’s eyes darted up at her noise. He hadn’t heard her come in.  She’d pulled her hair into a bun on the top of her head, but a few of the shorter pieces had escaped, falling around her face. 

Throughout the time he’d known her, her hair had been many different colors. When they met, it had been blonde, then ginger, then purple, then blue. She dyed it back to her natural ashy blonde for a while before going to this pastel pink she’d been maintaining for the last two years. When he asked her why she’d kept it for so long, she said, “I don’t know, it just looks like me.” 

He had to agree. It looked incredible on her, making her skin warm and her hazel eyes bright. 

Wanting yawned in his stomach, and he tore his eyes away before she could see the lovesick expression Jack teased was written all over his face whenever he looked at her. 

“I’m glad to see he’s making himself at home,” Lena said, laughing. 

“He’s sweet,” Nico said, standing. “I thought you’d be in bed.” 

“I wanted to say thanks again,” she said, stepping forward to hug him. 

As his arms wound around her waist, Nico allowed himself a moment of fantasy, imagining she wouldn’t be going to her own room when they turned in for the night. He couldn’t stop his mind from continuing down the fantastical road that living together might be the thing that finally got them from friends over the hill to lovers. 

“I’m happy to have you here,” he said when the fantasy had run its course, and he came back to reality. 

Cookie meowed as if upset at being left out. 

She broke away with a laugh and bent to gather him into her arms. 

“Thank you again,” she said, leaning in to brush a kiss over his cheek.

Nico felt himself go still as stone. He couldn’t remember if she’d ever done that before. 

“G’night.”

“Gute nacht,” he responded, barely holding himself back from waving as his mind was still caught on trying to process the fact that she’d actually kissed him. On the cheek, but still, her lips had been soft and warm, especially against the hard contrast of her nose ring.

He watched her disappear down the hall before he smacked a hand to his forehead. “Gute nacht,” he mocked himself. “You couldn’t think of anything better to say?” 

He was a fool for thinking this was going to work. 

The next thing he had never expected when he invited her to move in came the following morning. 

Lena hadn’t stayed with Nico in his new place before. She couldn’t have. He upgraded to renting the three bedroom apartment in their building when it was finally settled that she would be living with him. That way, he still had a spare room for when family or friends came in town.

The day previous, she’d picked the room closer to his. Had he known — had he thought about it, he would have suggested she take the other one. He could have made up some bullshit excuse about how he didn’t want his snoring to keep her up at night. 

Had he been thinking clearly, he would have noticed that her ensuite bathroom shared a wall with his bedroom. The very wall his headboard sat against. 

As it was now, Lena, always the early riser, was in the shower. Right on the other side of the wall. 

Waking up to the water drumming into the tile, it took him a moment to place the sound. Only when it shifted, quieting and changing rhythm did he realize what was happening - she’d stepped under the water. 

With a sudden jolt, Nico realized that his headboard, some paint, sheetrock, a jumble of studs, and a few dozen white subway tiles were the only things separating him from her naked form. 

The idea of it assaulted his senses until he was half hard and couldn’t think of anything else. 

Cursing, he pulled a pillow over his face and groaned loudly. He couldn’t ask her to move now. He would have to explain why, and he wouldn’t be caught dead telling her he needed her to move because he couldn’t get the image of her naked, water trailing off her hair, dripping onto her breasts and pooling around her feet, out of his mind. 

He groaned into his pillowcase again. 

This went on for a few more minutes before the water changed again, increasing in pressure and beating a staccato rhythm against the tile. A second later, he heard the water shift and change again as well as a gentle thud, as if she’d fallen against the wall. 

Knowing exactly what that meant, he vaulted out of bed, rushing to his own bathroom. He would not jack off to the sound of her in the shower. That was a step too far, but if he let his imagination run, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop himself.  He’d thought of her many, many times while getting himself off over the years, but doing it while she was in his house, very likely getting herself off, felt like a step too far. 

Cold water shocked him back into his senses, and he didn’t let himself think about it anymore. 

Lena stepped out of the shower, feeling much better. Not only did she feel more rested, she was finally able to release some of the sexual frustration that had settled on her like a heavy blanket since arriving. She would have done it the night before, but showering was always part of her morning routine, and in the rush of moving and getting to the bar to meet Nicos team mates, she hadn’t fully unpacked, and couldn’t find her vibrator. She’d tried with her fingers, but it just didn’t work the same way. When she finally fell asleep, she was still feeling frustrated and needy. 

After dressing and putting some dry shampoo in her hair, she walked into the kitchen only to find Nico scooping freshly ground coffee beans into the coffee maker, wearing nothing more than a towel. His hair was still wet, and she watched a rivulet of water wind its way down his back, all the way to the dimples at the base of his spine. Wanting sparked to life between her thighs again. So much for easing the sexual frustration. 

“Morning,” she made herself say, refusing to be the creepy one watching him shirtless, core throbbing at the thought of him. 

Nico jumped, and his hand snagged the towel around his waist before it fell. He thought he had more time. He wouldn’t have come out here in only a towel if he thought she would be out soon. He just wanted to have coffee made for her. 

“I thought you were still in the shower,” he said by way of explanation. 

“How did you know I was in the shower?” 

“It’s right on the other side of my bedroom wall,” he informed her, trying to keep the guilt out of his voice. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuckety fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Oh,” she said, hoping beyond hope the sound of the water had drowned out the accidental, desperate way she’d moaned his name when her climax finally hit. 

She had to find her vibrator. Maybe she’d pick one up in the city, just in case. She couldn’t be getting herself off in the shower anymore. There was no way. Absolutely no way. Knowing he was on the other side of the wall would shrivel her sex drive like a dried out bean pod. There was no way she could get off to thinking about him, knowing he might be able to hear her, and then she would just be even more frustrated. It didn’t matter if she might find her vibrator unpacking later that day, she decided, she was getting one in the city. Better safe than sorry.

Pushing that idea away to think about later, she accepted the mug of coffee he held out to her. 

“Oat milk, right?” he asked, trying to steer the conversation away from her showers proximity to his bed. “I found this pistachio kind I thought you might like,” he said, rifling in the fridge with one hand, the other still clasping his towel. He needed to pull it tighter but couldn’t with her in the room. At least the cool air was calming his flushed cheeks.

And just like that, the sweetness that was Nico Hischier burrowed its way into her heart again, easing some of the lust back into love. It was incredible how being seen made her feel. Not only with eyes but with words and actions to follow them up. 

No wonder every man she’d dated in the last six years paled in comparison. Nico set an impossible standard for other men to meet. 

And that wasn’t even taking into account the fact that he had the body of a god and the most empathetic, earnest brown eyes she’d ever seen. 

They never even stood a chance.

He found the creamer he’d picked up the last time he was at the grocery. Lena loved all things pistachio, and when he’d seen the non-dairy creamer, he’d automatically put it in his basket for her to try once she got here.

When he turned to her, he had to push away thoughts of kissing her that often came up when he saw her smile the way she was now.

Setting the creamer down, he mumbled, “I’ll be right back,” before practically running to his bedroom. He threw on some shorts and a T-shirt. Coming back in, he found her sitting at the table, looking at her phone as she lifted the coffee mug to her lips. 

“What are you up to today?” 

“I’m going into the city. Find the best subway route to the academy, find my classes, that kind of thing.” Her courses didn’t start for another few days, but Lena knew she would feel better having explored first. 

“If you can wait till I’m done with practice, I can come with you,” he offered. 

Even as he kept his expression neutral, she could hear the undertone of unease in his voice. 

“Nico, I’m going to be going out there by myself every day.”

“But you don’t have to do it alone the first time.”

It wasn’t like he knew the way any better. Lena knew for a fact that he didn’t take to wandering around the city for fun, and if he did, he drove in or took an Uber. Plus, she wouldn’t be able to get her vibrator if he came with her. She didn’t like thinking about the pity she’d find in his face at her inability to find a man to fulfill those needs for her.

“It’s not the first time. I’ve lived in the city before.” 

“For three months when you were twenty,” he reminded. 

“Exactly. It’s not my first rodeo.” 

He never understood that expression. He’d seen a rodeo, and it didn’t seem like the kind of thing someone could grasp after doing it once. It was just another American idiom that always went over his head.

“Nico, I’ll be fine,” she said when he didn’t respond. “I have you on speed dial if I get stuck somewhere, okay?” 

Biting his lip, he tamped down the overprotectiveness rearing up inside him. Lena was smart. She didn’t get herself into trouble. But she was also so pretty, and some men were dogs. 

The look on her face, defiant and determined told him exactly how this was going to end. 

“Okay,” he said with a sigh. “But you’ll call me if you get lost?”

“Yes. I’ll call you if anything comes up.” 

Nico threw himself into practice. Hockey always managed to clear his mind when he was stressed. Even the sound of it - skates scraping the ice, pucks thwacking into sticks and the simpleness of communication - made everything else slip into focus. He didn’t have to worry about being an idiot or saying the wrong thing. He demanded the puck when he needed it and tried to get it into the net. 

Practice was a reprieve from the stress of life. Of all life, all the time. But especially then with Lena in his house. He could skate her out of his mind and focus on simpler things. 

Jonas came up to his stall as he was getting out of his gear. 

“Can I still come get my box?” 

It took a moment for Nico to remember. He’d had left his gaming console at his house a few days ago. “Yeah.” 

When they walked into the house, he found Cookie, right at home, stretched out over the back of the sofa in a sunbeam. 

“Since when do you have a cat? I didn’t think you liked cats.” Jonas asked. 

“He’s Lenas,” Nico corrected. Jonas raised an eyebrow, which Nico chose to ignore. “And I don’t dislike cats. Cookie is sweet.”

“Cookie?” he repeated. “She named her cat Cookie?” 

“Apparently she had a stuffed animal that looked like him named Cookie when she was little,” he explained with a shrug, trailing a hand over the cats silky fur. 

Cookie trilled at him and arched his back for more pets.

The door opened behind them, and Lena herself walked into the apartment, flushed from her walk from the station in the cool autumn air.

Nico tore his eyes away from her before Jonas could give him another raised eyebrow at the look he knew was all over his face.

“Hey, Lena,” Jonas greeted. 

“Hey Jonas,” she said with a big smile, giving him a hug. “It’s good to see you.” 

They’d met in Switzerland a few months before when Lena had come after a trip to Italy with some friends. Her friends had gone home, and she’d caught a train to Bern to spend a few days with him before she had to get back to Canada. It was then that he’d learned about her acceptance into the academy and suggested she should stay with him. 

After she went out and about with Nina, and he finished with training, they had all gone out for dinner and drinks at his favorite place, Tramdepot. Jonas’s girlfriend, Nola, was out of town, and had Nico not known she existed and that Jonas was head over heels for her, he would have been sorely tempted to end the night early so he and Lena would have to stop talking. 

“You can’t be jealous if you’re never going to ask her out,” Nina had admonished him on the way home.

Knowing Lena didn’t speak German allowed him to be open and honest with his sister, even as Lena walked in front of them. 

“She doesn’t date hockey players.” 

Nina gave him a wry look, “she told you that?” 

“No, she told her friend, Jessica. I overheard them.” 

“What exactly did she say?” Nina asked.

“She said, ‘I don’t date hockey players.’ And then Jessica asked, ‘what about Nico?’” 

“And she said?” Nina prompted.

“She said it doesn’t matter.” 

“I think you should still talk to her.” 

“She said it doesn’t matter, Nina,” he said, and there had been an embarrassing amount of whining pain in his voice. 

Nina bit her lip, glancing at Lena, who was walking next to Jonas, asking something about the architecture. 

“I can’t —” his voice had almost broken, “I can’t.” He couldn’t even get the words out. 

He was in love with Lena. He knew that. And it was wonderful and painful and awful all at the same time. But the thought of asking her and having her say no - the thought of asking her and it changing their friendship forever? That was worse than the bitter, lovely pain of being in unrequited love. The idea of losing her was worse than knowing he would never have her in that way. 

“Well, I should get going,” Jonas said, gesturing with the playstation and bringing Nico back to the present.

“I’m sure I’ll see you around,” Lena said, offering him another hug.

After Jonas left, Nico followed her to her room, leaning in the doorway. There were still boxes around, and he noticed a pile of clothes on the floor that she'd obviously pulled out of a box in search of her outfit for the day. He willed his eyes to skip over something lacy and green.

“How was it?” 

“Fine,” she said, setting her tote bag carefully on the bed, making sure it wouldn’t tip over. On top of the vibrator, she’d bought lingerie. Not that she had anyone to wear it for. But the pink set had been on display and matched her hair. She’d asked to try it on on a whim and found she couldn’t leave it behind. Even if it was just for herself, the lace and mesh balconette bra and matching panties made her feel pretty and sexy. So what if no one else ever saw them? She’d know they were there, and that was enough. 

All the same, she didn’t want Nico to see it. The thought of him knowing she’d bought lingerie when he knew she didn’t have anyone to show it off for made heat race to the surface of her skin.  

When it wouldn’t stay upright, she tipped the bag gently, resting it against her pillows so nothing would spill out. 

“Just fine?” he asked, worry edging into his tone. 

“It was good,” she said, turning around. “I found everything fine. I only went three stops in the wrong direction once. My advisor seems nice, and all my classes are right in the academy, so I won’t get lost.” Walking from the room, she changed the subject, “how was practice?” 

“Good,” he dragged a hand down his face, “I think we’re finally starting to gel as a team.” 

“That’s great, Nico.” 

“I hope it comes together before we head to Carolina.” 

“I’m sure it will. If you’re already seeing that now, it’ll only get better in a week, right?” 

He smiled, glad to have her sweet reassurance around. Though she never played hockey - “You would not want to see me on skates. I’m the most uncoordinated disaster of a baby gazelle you’ve ever seen.” - she’d grown up with siblings and friends who play and had a thorough understanding of the game and what it took to win. 

That first month living with her was an awkward dance. When his first road trip came around, it was a relief to get away. He could finally breathe easy, not worried about turning any corner to find her being unassumingly lovely in some new area of the apartment.

But by the second night away, he found himself missing her and missing their evening routine of sipping tea while watching TV. She never complained when he pulled up one of his brothers games or something else Swiss as long as the subtitles were on, and he’d gotten way too sucked in to the ridiculous reality TV show she loved about couples living in a villa together, searching for love. 

That second night, when missing her had settled into his chest in a way he hadn’t yet experienced, he almost turned it on for he and Jonas to watch before bed, just to get some comfort of home back. Instead, he’d tossed the remote to Jonas. Lena said she’d wait to watch it with him when he came back, and he didn’t want to let her down. Plus, he wasn’t totally sure he wanted Jonas knowing he enjoyed such trashy shit.

He missed the steadiness of her presence. He’d gotten so used to living alone, he’d forgotten how nice it was to have someone else in the house. She was always there if he needed a little comfort, offering a hug or a listening ear, or a back rub. 

After he got home, they fell into a comfortable routine, weaving in and out of each other's lives. They would have coffee at the start of each day before she left for classes, and he left for practice. 

In the afternoon, she worked on her art in the living room, and he liked to watch her paint or draw, silhouetted against the large window, if she was still there after he’d taken his nap. 

She cooked dinner most nights. She wasn’t a chef by any means, but she enjoyed cooking, and he was always appreciative, even when something was burned. Plus, she owed him. The money he saved her by not having to pay for housing for a year wasn’t insubstantial. Cooking was a small way she could pay him back on the few nights he was home each week. She’d even made his favorite meal the day after a hard loss. 

He gave her the cold he caught on their second trip. Something, he was sure, he got from Haula’s kids, and they were miserable together for a few days. He woke to her showering in the middle of the night more than once as she tried to clear her sinuses. 

When Halloween came around, he asked if she wanted to go to the team party with him. It was the first time since he’d come to New Jersey he didn’t have to come up with a costume by himself or do something with one of his teammates. He’d had girlfriends before, most of them from Switzerland, but no one who was able to make it to the party.

They spent one of his off weekends figuring out what to wear. Lena was worried about giving people the wrong idea and shot down most of the suggestions that came up on her web search as they were all suited for couples. 

Every time someone asked how long they had been dating, it was like being jabbed with a hot poker; pointing out everything she wanted but didn’t have. 

In the end, they decided to go as people who had been stranded in the desert. She panted their cheeks to look sunburned and put dyed baby powder in their hair and eyebrows to mimic sand. They wore ripped, tan clothing and carried empty canteens. 

When she’d come out of her room, he swore his heart nearly stopped upon seeing the open, artfully dirty button up shirt she wore tied over a tan colored bra. He’d seen her in a swimsuit before, so in theory, he’d seen this much of her skin, but this seemed more intimate than a bathing suit. 

It sparked a new wave of longing in him. 

More than once, Jack gave him an exasperated look when he caught Nico staring at her as she talked with the WAGs. He was obsessing over all the little details of her costume. The way one of her shredded khaki pant legs was higher than the other, showing the tattoo of a paintbrush crossed with a pencil on the inside of her right ankle, the stripe of her smooth low back visible between her shirt and pants, and of course, the flash of her cleavage anytime she turned toward him. 

“You’re gonna have to make it happen, man,” he said, passing by to get another drink. 

It took almost six weeks, but he got used to her fresh faced beauty being around all the time. It didn’t dull necessarily, but like living in a beautiful place, eventually, the beauty fades into the background until the lighting changes and everything is suddenly new and breathtaking again. While she was around all the time, it grew easier for him to push aside. 

On a Saturday in early November, he came home from practice to hear her humming somewhere in the apartment. She wasn’t in the living room - in fact, her drop cloth and easel hadn’t even been set up. 

Opening his mouth to call for her, his greeting died in his throat when he walked into the kitchen. She was in a tight, pink t-shirt, a matching pair of little boy short underwear and nothing else. His eyes were immediately drawn to the round swells of her ass peeking out from under the material. 

He couldn’t look away. Even knowing he should say something, so she didn’t think he was just creepily watching her didn’t help him. 

Forget looking like a creep. He was never forgetting this as long as he lived. 

Lena turned around and jumped. Nico was standing in the kitchen doorway, mouth slightly agape. He’d been quiet as a mouse, and the shock of his sudden appearance sent her sandwich diving off the plate. It opened on its descent and splatted onto the dark tile, meat and condiment side down - because, of course, it did. 

She swore, and it snapped Nico out of his reverie. He dropped to his knees to help clean it up.

As she knelt next to him with a wet rag to wipe the butter off the tile, her bare knee slid into his field of vision.

“I’m sorry I didn't say anything,” he said emphatically, feeling himself blush as he kept his eyes trained on the floor so they wouldn’t travel up the creamy expanse of her thigh.

Shaking her head, Lena stood, hoping he didn’t notice she’d practically turned the same shade as her shirt, “I’m sorry about this,” she said, gesturing to her legs. Of course he had to come home when she wasn’t wearing any pants. The shirt and panties had arrived that morning, and she had been trying them on when she decided to make a sandwich.

Nico looked up and felt his jaw go slack. Somehow, he managed to keep it from falling open. He could clearly see the slope of her breasts and a stripe of her stomach where the shirt didn't quite reach her underwear. He inexplicably wanted to bite the curve of her inner thigh.

He could only blink several times before he managed to look away. Made new in the harsh light of the kitchen, wanting her took over his thoughts, turning him into a bumbling idiot once again.

God, what wouldn’t he give to worship her any way she would let him?

“I didn’t think you were coming home until later. I would have put on pants.”

The fact that she apparently often didn’t wear pants when he wasn’t home burrowed into his brain to torture him later. 

He managed to make some kind of noncommittal noise and stood up. 

Lena scurried to her room, grateful that, at least, she had this new set on, and not a pair of ratty old undies.

She wished she could forget the shocked look on his face when he looked up at her from his knees. She’d envisioned him on his knees before her so many times, but none of those fantasies involved him staring open mouthed at her thighs. 

A week later, as they were watching Love Island, Lena asked a question she never thought she would have to.

“When’s your next night off at home?” 

Nico pulled up his calendar app, and flipped through the days, “Thursday.” 

“Oh.”

“What’s up?” he asked, setting his phone on the side table. 

“I…” Her cheeks flushed, and she bit her lip. 

“What?” he asked, feeling nervous. She was going to tell him she started dating someone, wasn’t she? That she’d met someone while he’d been out of town. The prospect of it roiled in his stomach.

“I thought I had more time,” she said. 

His fantasized dilemma fractured a little. “More time for what?” 

She took in a calming, deep breath, looking up at the ceiling so she didn’t have to look at his face when she said it. “I need to — I need to do a nude study for my figure class.” 

“So? You’ve done nude studies before,” he reminded, thinking about the sketches he’d seen in her portfolio. Part of this intensive training was figure drawing, which he knew she didn’t enjoy, but everything he’d seen looked near perfect to him. Smooth, curved lines, and strong, handsome faces. He didn’t understand what she was so worried about. 

 Professor Brown’s consistent feedback was that her drawings looked too one dimensional, that she wasn’t capturing the living essence of her subjects. She assured the class that, though it would be awkward, their art would be better when they could no longer pretend the person in front of them was a sculpture. The surefire way to do that? Take away the emotional distance between the artist and their model.

“Yeah, but those were with people I’d never met. My professor wants us to do a study with someone we know…preferably of the opposite gender. She said it would make the art more intimate.” Daring to meet his eyes, Lena felt a blush scorch her skin.

Understanding sparked in his face, and she watched his eyes widen. 

“You want me to be your nude model?” 

She licked her lips, “I thought about asking Jesper to do it, but that didn’t seem right.” 

“Why Jes?” he asked, barely keeping the flair of emotion out of his voice. That was the last thing he wanted to hear. Not only was his love for her unrequited, she would be more comfortable sketching one of his teammates. One of his engaged teammates.

“I don’t know. I feel like he wouldn’t be weird about it since the swedes are always so,” she gestured to her own body, “open. But it felt too… intimate when he has Nicole and we’re…us,” she finished lamely, finally daring to look into his face. 

His heart leapt into his throat. 

We’re us? What did that mean? What was us? They were friends? She wanted something more than friendship? Hope reignited in his chest for the millionth time.

He cleared his throat, hoping she couldn’t hear his heart hammering. “What would -” he had to pause to clear his throat again. “What would it involve?” 

“You’d just need to sit or stand for a few hours while I do some sketches.”

“Naked?” he asked, his voice squeaking over the word despite his attempts to stay cool, “or could I wear my boxers?” 

“I need to turn in six sketches, but at least half of them need to be nude, so you would only need to be naked for part of it.” 

He didn’t respond right away, trying to sort out and understand his own racing thoughts.

She nibbled at her lip, “I know it’s kind of a lot to ask.” 

There were so many reasons he wanted to say no, but despite all that, Nico still found himself nodding. He could never say no to her, even if it meant he had to pose naked for her to sketch. 

She felt her cheeks flush again. The thought of seeing him this way had nixed the idea of Jesper from her mind. She didn’t want to sketch his thighs, even if it would be less awkward than sketching Nico. She might never get the chance to see him naked in a romantic setting, so, selfishly, she was seizing the opportunity while she had it. 

“Has to be Thursday?” he asked. 

“Well, sometime in the next week,” she said. “If you’re not comfortable with it, I can ask Jesper.”

“It’s not that,” he said. Too quick, too desperate. If she asked Jesper, it would get around the locker room like wildfire that she’d asked him instead of Nico and on top of not wanting to let her down, he couldn’t take the chirping that would come from that. “It’s just fast.” 

“Do you have another day off?” 

He swiped through his calendar again and shook his head. “We leave for six days after the game on Friday.” 

Her lips pursed together. The flush that was glowing on her cheeks made him smile. At least she was just as nervous as he was. 

“Do you need me to do anything before? Shave or…anything?” he asked, gesturing to his chest.

She hadn't even thought about it. From what she remembered, Nico didn't have a huge amount of chest hair anyway.

She'd known going into this conversation that it would end with at least a fifty percent chance he’d say yes, but when he asked about shaving, it struck her suddenly and completely that she really was about to see him naked.

“Nothing you wouldn’t normally do,” she squeaked.

Nico felt himself smile. If she was going to be this flustered the whole time, maybe this wouldn’t be half bad. 

It Doesn't Matter:

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Playlist

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