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“So then the lady tells us that the intruder is in the kitchen with her cat,” Nicole says, pausing for dramatic effect. “And we can hear the cat yowling in the kitchen, so we figure there has to be something dangerous going on, right?”
Waverly nods, meeting Nicole’s eye. “Was it?”
“Oh for sure. We get into the kitchen, guns drawn, following all the protocol, and there, by the sink, is a fifteen-year-old boy. He turns to us, his eyes huge, and in his hands is a very angry, very wet cat,” Nicole says, acting out each part of the story as best she can while still walking down the street.
“No way!” Waverly says, laughing.
“I shit you not. We called in the woman who made the call, his grandmother as things would turn out, and let me tell you, the hardest part of that night was making the woman stop lecturing him so we could get the details,” Nicole says with a smile. “The way he told it was that he was at a house party that he couldn’t tell us about because it was, and I quote, ‘very top secret hush hush secret’. But at the party the topic of cats came up and everyone decided that cats must constantly be covered in spit from cleaning themselves. He thought it was unsanitary, so he decided to help out his poor grandmother by cleaning her cat for her. At three in the morning. While drunk off his ass.”
“Oh god, now you have to tell me who it was! You can’t leave me hanging,” Waverly says through her laughter.
“I can’t do that. I am a woman of honor, a woman of moral integrity. How could I stoop so low?” Nicole says with wide eyes and dramatic hand gestures.
“I promise I won’t tell,” Waverly pleads, trying for a pout. She’s smiling too much to pull it off, she thinks.
“Well,” Nicole pauses, seeming to consider. She leans in closer to whisper in Waverly’s ear. “I have to keep the mystery alive somehow, right?”
Waverly’s mind stutters to a halt and starts racing all at once. Nicole pulls away with a smirk and Waverly can feel the pink in her cheeks. There is a brief moment as she pulls her thoughts into order, and Nicole appears to be enjoying every second of fluster she’s inflicted on Waverly.
“I thought the police were supposed to solve mysteries, not cause them,” Waverly says, proud of herself for forming and articulating a full coherent thought.
“Then I’m not very good at my job, now am I?” Nicole says.
“I very much doubt that, Officer.” Waverly flirts, trying to turn the tables on Nicole. Judging by the red in her cheeks, she succeeds.
Nicole clears her throat. “I believe I was promised lunch, Waverly Earp,” She says while avoiding eye contact.
“Right.” Waverly allows Nicole to change the subject. She realizes that they have stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “I think I’m going to take you to get the best pancakes in Purgatory.”
“You mean the second-best pancakes in Purgatory?” Nicole asks, wearing a cocky smile that Waverly finds both infuriating and attractive.
“You’ve never even been to this place. I know because you’ve never been to any of the local restaurants, that’s the entire reason we’ve been getting lunch together these past few days. Unless you were lying to spend more time with me,” Waverly says, indignant at the slight against her favorite pancake place.
“I always want to spend more time with you, Waverly,” Nicole says, her smile turning briefly into something more genuine before the cocky grin returns in full force. “But I haven’t been to any of the local restaurants. I just know that while I’m living in town the best anyone else can hope to achieve is second place when it comes to pancakes.”
“Prove it, Haught,” Waverly challenges, making eye contact with Nicole.
“I think I will, Earp,” Nicole responds, tilting her chin in determination.
“Then we better get to the store. I want to prove you wrong as soon as possible,” Waverly says, reaching out and grabbing Nicole’s hand to drag her down the street.
“Now?” Nicole asks, stumbling in Waverly’s wake.
“Why wait?” She asks, not slowing down.
Waverly drags Nicole down the street, making only minimal effort to dodge the other people on the sidewalk. They move out of her way in the end anyway, and Nicole shouts an apology behind them as they go. The local grocery store is only a few minutes away and before they know it they’re walking into the dry, air-conditioned building. Waverly looks down at her hand, still entwined with Nicole’s. Her face heats up, and she risks a glance up at Nicole’s’ face. Nicole is flushed, but she’s smiling widely at Waverly and makes no motion to let go.
“Well. What do we need for your ‘world famous’ pancakes?” Waverly asks, making air quotes with one hand. Perhaps it would be a more effective gesture if she used both hands, but she’s not planning on letting go of Nicole until Nicole makes her.
“Most of the usual pancake stuff, plus a secret ingredient or two. I don’t have anything to cook with at my apartment, so I’ll probably need to pick up some cookware too.”
“Don’t worry about it. We can go to the homestead. Wynonna’s not home, so we’ll have the house to ourselves,” Waverly says, not wanting to put Nicole out. And a little part of her is definitely excited to have Nicole over at her house, cooking them pancakes in her kitchen. So close to her bedroom-
And this is not the time or place to be thinking like that. She’s not even dating Nicole. Technically. Probably? They do date things but they’ve not really talked about it. Whatever. Waverly has decided to not worry about her plans in all this, it’s time for Waverly Earp to relax and let things happen. Oh, she is not cut out for this. She’s never been good at waiting. What was it Nicole said weeks ago? ‘When I see something I like I don’t like to wait’? That sounded about right. Waverly knows the feeling.
“Why Madame Earp, the scandal. The two of us alone in your abode without a chaperone? What will the neighbors think?” Nicole says, bringing her free hand to her chest and donning a terrible British accent.
“Madame Haught, the closest neighbors we have are the horses. They care nothing about our activities,” Waverly says in an equally terrible accent. If she was generous it could be called British. If she was very generous.
“Oh well, in that case I’m looking forward to this afternoon even more,” Nicole says with a wink.
“Because of the horses?” Waverly asks, crinkling her nose like she has no idea what Nicole was trying to say.
“I-”Nicole says, her ears turning pink “I, uh, didn’t mean it like that. I meant, because, you know, we’d be alone. And, uh-” She cuts herself off, clenching her jaw in embarrassment and staring into the middle distance.
“Are you planning to do something we don’t other people to see?” Waverly asks, letting go of Nicole’s hand to run her hand down Nicole’s arm instead.
“Uh-” Nicole says, making a choking noise as her cheeks fill with color.
Waverly smiles in triumph as she brushes past Nicole and walks further into the store. She realizes after a moment that she doesn’t know exactly what they need, but she refuses to let that dampen her mood. Instead, she decides to capitalize on this to tease Nicole some more. Because honestly, Nicole is so easy to fluster when she’s not the one doing the flirting. And while Waverly loves- no, likes, it’s way too early for love- likes Officer Haughtshot who can charm the habit off a nun, she’s found that Nicole is just as charming when she’s speechless and cherry red.
“You coming, Haughtpants?” Waverly calls, turning around to face the still immobile officer.
“Oh, no,” Nicole seems to startle at the sound of Waverly’s voice, and speed walks past Waverly down into the aisles, continuing in a whisper as she passes. “Though I’m sure you could change that.”
Waverly smiles. She makes a mental note on how quickly Nicole can recover, and tries not to let herself wonder if she’s that quick to recover in other areas as well.
“So what’s your secret ingredient?” Waverly asks, walking up to Nicole’s side as the woman grabs a bag of flour.
“It’s a secret,” Nicole says, wandering further down the aisle to look at the selection of sugar.
“You know, for a police officer you sure do keep a lot of secrets,” Waverly jokes, poking Nicole in the side.
“Well, the oath is ‘protect and serve’ not ‘blab all my secrets’,” Nicole says, grabbing a small bag of brown sugar off the shelf and dropping it in her basket.
“Then how about you serve me,” Waverly pauses purposefully here, her voice dropping low before she continues, “by telling me all your secrets.”
“How about you help your local police force by going and picking up some eggs. A half dozen should be more than enough.” Nicole seems to be ignoring Waverly's flirtation, but the pink gracing the top of the other woman's ears give her away.
“Fine. I guess I’ll go and pick up eggs so you can get your mystery ingredient in secret. I’m onto you, Officer.”
“I’d expect no less from the town genius, Earp.”
Waverly takes her time getting the eggs. As much as she’s been teasing Nicole over keeping secrets, she’s also trying to respect Nicole’s secret recipe. Yet another thing that doesn’t come naturally to her. Seems like Nicole makes her want to try all sorts of new things. Of course when she meets back up with Nicole at the checkout, that respect doesn’t mean she doesn’t take a quick look in the basket to see if the ingredient is hiding in plain sight. Honestly, if Nicole can’t hide her secret ingredient then it doesn’t deserve to be a secret. The only thing she sees is a little bit of a red cap before Nicole moves it out of her eyeline with a grin.
“No peeking, Waverly. Spoils the surprise,” Nicole scolds, her smile keeping the sting out of her words.
“You know how I feel about surprises. I much prefer a solid plan,” Waverly says, sticking her tongue out at Nicole.
“Well I’m not giving you three days warning on my secret ingredient. But I will ask, do you have any allergies I should be concerned about?” Nicole asks.
“Not unless your secret ingredient is penicillin,” Waverly jokes, and then winces because the joke definitely sounded funnier in her head. Nicole laughs anyway. Waverly can appreciate someone who gives her a pity laugh on occasion.
“Nope, I think you’re safe. Now, do we need anything else?” Nicole asks as she moves towards a register.
“Just marshmallows and butterscotch chips,” Waverly says, it’s a long shot but well worth the risk.
“Why on earth would we need either of those?” Nicole asks, dumbfounded.
“For the pancakes?”
“No way. Waverly Earp, I am not desecrating my pancakes with any of that nonsense.” Nicole crosses her arms defiantly.
“Desecrating? Butterscotch marshmallow pancakes are the best thing to ever happen to me.”
“You’ve led a hard life, haven’t you?” Nicole asks in mock sympathy.
“Shut up. You know Harry’s Diner lets me get butterscotch marshmallow pancakes.”
“Then I definitely can make better pancakes than them. No sweat.”
“Rude!” Waverly gasps, deciding that she’d have to work up to marshmallow butterscotch another time. “Okay, well how about some blueberries? Or chocolate chips!”
“Nope, my pancakes are meant to be served without anything in them. How else will you enjoy them?” Nicole says, dismissing Waverly as she hands a couple of bills to the cashier.
“Plain pancakes are so boring though.” Waverly whines.
“I guarantee they will be the best thing you ever taste.”
“The best thing, huh? That’s a mighty big claim you’re making. You ever hear that thing about pride and falling?”
“This isn’t pride, just facts,” Nicole says with such a serious look that Waverly wants to giggle a little.
“Big words, Officer.”
Nicole just smirks in response, winking and grabbing the bag of ingredients before sauntering out of the store. Honest to god sauntering out of the store. Waverly has never had the chance to use the word saunter before, but no other word seems appropriate. And Waverly is most certainly not watching Nicole’s ass in those jeans. Because...well Waverly can’t come up with a reason she shouldn’t be. And with that train of thought she takes a moment more to admire the woman. A moment she soon regrets when Nicole turns around and catches her in the act. Waverly feels her cheeks heat up and jogs to catch up.
“So whose car are we taking? I guess we should both drive separately, it’d make the most sense. Do you know the way? It’s not too hard to find, I can give you some directions in case you get turned around. Wait, no. You can follow me, there shouldn’t be much traffic,” She rambles, trying to change the subject.
“I’ve been there before, remember?”
“Oh. Yeah. So I guess you know the way.”
“I wouldn’t forget,” Nicole says, then she gets an odd look on her face. “Wait. No. That sounds weird, doesn’t it? I just meant that it stuck out because you’re important. Not, uh. Oh no.” Nicole’s sentences overlap each other as she stumbles to get herself out of the verbal hole she’s dug herself.
“It didn’t sound weird until you made it sound weird. Now it’s definitely weird,” Waverly teases. Nicole doesn’t respond in words, giving an exaggerated groan instead.
“I’ll just meet you there. You can follow me, I know how much you like to watch my back,” Nicole teases back, her face still flushed even as she gets her petty revenge.
There are no winners in this kind of war. Everyone ends up flustered and red in the face. Or, Waverly thinks as she takes a final look at Nicole, maybe everyone wins in this kind of war. Waverly certainly doesn’t feel like a loser right now, even though she’s sure her cheeks are still bright red.
The ride back to the homestead is uneventful. Soon enough they are both pulling up to the house. Waverly jumps out of her truck as quickly as she can, double checking that Wynonna’s bike is nowhere in sight before speed walking over to Nicole’s beat up old mustang. It’s not that she doesn’t love her sister, or doesn’t want her sister around. She just doesn’t want her sister around. Right now.
“I don’t think you’ve had the chance to see the inside of the house, so I’ll have to give you the grand tour. For free, even.” Waverly says, gesturing towards the front door when Nicole won’t let her take one of the bags.
“I can think of a few good places to start that tour,” Nicole says, her voice low in a way that Waverly hasn’t heard before but that she definitely wants to hear again.
“Oh yeah? Like where?” Waverly says, licking her lips.
“Like,” Nicole says, a grin widening on her face. “The kitchen, so I can put away the groceries.”
“Right. I’ll make that stop number one,” Waverly’s hands fumble the keys while she's unlocking the door. She's torn between blushing and rolling her eyes, so she does both before throwing open the door with a flourish. “So here we are. The living room. Over there is the dining room, upstairs is only half finished so I’ll leave that for another time, and here is the kitchen. Ta-da. Grand tour. A little less grand than I was planning, but there it is.” She points out the rooms as she leads Nicole back into the kitchen.
“I think it was super grand. But if that’s it for your tour, I can get started on those pancakes. You’ll have to tell me where all the cookware and such is.” Nicole says, hoisting the bags a little higher into the air.
“Of course, I’m on it, Officer,” Waverly says with a sarcastic little salute. “What do you need?”
“Just a measuring cup, two bowls, a pan, a whisk, and a spatula.”
“Wet or dry measuring cups?”
“Uh, both.”
“Gotcha.”
Silence falls over the kitchen save for the sounds of containers being opened and pans clattering. Waverly tries leaning against the counter casually. It feels awkward and stiff, so she sits down in one of the kitchen chairs to watch Nicole work. When minutes pass with nothing but the sounds of Nicole cooking filling the kitchen Waverly starts to fidget in her seat. It doesn’t feel right to sit here in her own kitchen and let her guest do the cooking. After a few more minutes of fidgeting intermixed with the occasional sigh, Nicole turns to look at Waverly, bowl in hand.
“Did you want something, Waverly?”
“It’s just... I feel a bit useless. Do you need me to do anything?” Waverly asks, crossing her arms self consciously.
“You’re doing more than enough by just being here.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I think I read somewhere that having artwork in an office can increase employee productivity. This is similar. Having you around increases my productivity,” Nicole tells her offhandedly.
“So I’m just a pretty decoration to you?” She responds, holding back a smile.
“No!” Nicole sounds shocked and concerned. “I mean of course not, I just wanted to do something for you. And you are pretty. Gorgeous, even, but of course you’re more than that. You’re so smart and strong and kind and-” Nicole cuts herself off yet again when Waverly bursts out laughing.
“No, no. Go on.” Waverly says around her laughter.
“And you’re fishing for compliments.” Nicole says, grabbing a pinch of flour from the bag and flicking it at Waverly.
“Oh you’re asking for it, buster.” Waverly says, waving a finger at Nicole who seems unworried. Her mistake.
“Bring it, shortstack.” Nicole laughs, setting the mixing bowl down and bringing her hands up like an old timey boxer.
“Short jokes now? You just keep digging your own grave, don’t you,” Waverly says, jumping up from her seat.
The flour battle that follows is quick and vicious and ends with both of them doubled over with laughter. Nicole’s shirt is caked in flour and Waverly’s hair is more white than brown, and looking around the kitchen it’s clear who the real loser was. Flour is dusting every surface and hanging in the hair, giving the room a hazy feel.
“Sorry, I know how hard you worked to clean this place up” Nicole says once the laughter has subsided. She looks genuinely sorry too, which just makes Waverly want to wrap her in a hug.
“It’s no problem. This is less messy than letting Wynonna cook anyway. Besides, what’s the point in having a house if you can’t mess it up every now and then?” Waverly says, walking over to the sink to run a paper towel under the water.
“Well in that case i take it back. I’m not sorry,” Nicole teases, walking up behind Waverly.
Waverly laughs a little, running the damp paper towel over her face and grabbing another paper towel for Nicole. She turns, and finds that Nicole is a lot closer than she thought. They’re right on the edge of too close to be platonic. Though Waverly is sure that nothing about today has been entirely platonic. Which is good. Nicole leans closer to grab the damp towel still gripped in Waverly’s hand, and all Waverly can focus on is how warm her eyes are.
Nicole doesn’t step out of Waverly’s space, and she almost seems to lean closer.Waverly’s eyes dart down to Nicole’s mouth and she’s gone. All thought leaves her head and her heart stops. The moment seems to freeze and hang between them, neither one making the first move. Then Nicole brings the paper towel to Waverly’s cheek, dragging it over her cheekbone slowly.
“You missed a spot,” She says, her voice quiet.
“Oh.” Waverly breathes, and as soon as it started the moment is over.
Nicole backs up, clearing her throat and letting her eyes dart around the room.
“Right. I should, uh, go upstairs and try to rinse this out of my hair. You gonna be okay down here on your own for a little bit?” Waverly feels a bit silly, running away from a situation in her own home.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll just. I’ll work on the pancakes,” Nicole says, taking another step back, gesturing vaguely over her shoulder towards the oven.
“Good plan. I’ll just. Go now. Upstairs.” Waverly says, taking slow steps towards the staircase and finally just turning tail and darting up the stairs two at a time.
Once upstairs, Waverly has a moment to re-evaluate. So she almost kissed Nicole. Nicole almost kissed her. They almost kissed each other. It’s not like she didn’t expect this, and it’s definitely not that she didn’t want this. So why didn’t they do anything? Waverly runs a hand through her hair in frustration, grimacing when it comes away gritty and covered in flour. Right, the actual reason she came up here. Well, the actual reason she gave. She wanders into her room, grabbing a new shirt, one that she knows accentuates her boobs. The next stop is the bathroom, where she rinses her hair out underneath the faucet until there’s no more flour remaining. She hurries back down the stairs.
The sight she’s greeted with in the kitchen stops her in her tracks. The shirt she chose was for purposes of seduction, sure, but Waverly is sure there’s not a shirt in her wardrobe that could make her look as good as Nicole does right now. A dress or two could probably get her there, sure, but no shirts. Nicole is standing in the kitchen dressed in only a tanktop and a pair of tight jeans. The jeans hadn’t been so obvious when they hadn’t been accentuated by a skintight top. Waverly is pretty sure Nicole had been wearing that top underneath her loose flannel, but her mind isn’t functioning on high enough levels to use that kind of problem-solving. All she knows for sure is that she must have done something right in her life to be blessed with the sight of Nicole’s arms and shoulders like this. She idly wonders how many push-ups Nicole can do, and if she’d let Waverly watch her do them.
Or if Nicole could just do her .
She shakes herself from her reverie, trying to walk into the kitchen like she hadn’t been ogling the woman in it only seconds before.
“I’m back,” She announces with a false cheeriness.
“So I see,” Nicole says, without looking up from where she’s flipping pancakes.
“How can you see if you don’t even look, Officer?” Waverly teases, not even bothering to be subtle about her attempt to get Nicole to look at her in the new shirt. Nicole chuckles and turns her head, and immediately rewards Waverly’s outfit choice by turning slightly red in the ears and looking right back at her pancakes.
“You are certainly back. Definitely. Back,” Nicole mumbles, flipping a pancake with a little more force than necessary. They both watch as it flops out of the pan and onto the floor with a small plopping noise.
“Are you sure you’re the best pancake chef in town?” Waverly asks.
“When I’m not distracted,” Nicole says under her breath, scraping the pancake off the ground and continuing to avoid eye contact.
“Am I distracting you, Nicole?” Waverly asks, jumping up to sit on the counter. This is a move she’s perfected that has a twofold effect: one, it makes her legs look great, and two, it gives her a better view of whoever she’s watching.
“No,” Nicole says, pouting like a child and pouring the last of the pancake batter into the pan.
Waverly just lets the comment stand. She knows that neither one of them buys it one bit. Instead she swings her legs a little and leans forward for a better view of Nicole. When the pancakes are done she seems to have collected herself, because she turns around and actually makes eye contact with Waverly.
“So where do you keep you peanut butter?” Nicole asks.
“Peanut butter? Why do you even need peanut butter?”
“For the pancakes,” Nicole responds simply.
“No. I may have let you convince me to have your pancakes plain, but there’s no way I’m going to let you defile pancakes like that in my own home,” Waverly protests, throwing up her hands in disgust.
“Defile the pancakes? Really? You can’t compare marshmallow butterscotch pancakes to peanut butter on pancakes. They’re entirely different!” Nicole says, looking an odd mix of frustrated and endeared.
“Yeah, because marshmallow butterscotch pancakes are delicious but peanut butter on pancakes is an affront to humanity,” Waverly says with all the authority of an expert on the subject.
“So you’re some kind of syrup purist?” Nicole asks wryly
“If you have to put it like that, yes.”
“Fine. Where is the syrup, then?”
Waverly points at the cabinet above her head without making any move to get out of the way or grab it herself. Nicole raises an eyebrow at her behavior, but steps into Waverly’s space anyway. Leaning forward, she places one warm hand on Waverly’s thigh, right above her knee. Waverly sucks in a breath as Nicole leans even farther into her space to reach the high shelf. When Nicole settles back down off of her tiptoes, she makes no move to step back out of Waverly’s space. Instead she sets the syrup down on the counter next to them and places her hand on Waverly’s other thigh, this hand just slightly higher up on her leg. She dips her head down a little closer, her eyes locked with Waverly’s.
“So-” Nicole starts, her voice low like before, sending Waverly’s heart into overdrive. “Need anything else?” She asks, her intent clear.
“I can think of a few things.” Waverly responds, bringing her arms up from the counter to wrap around Nicole’s shoulders. Nicole lets Waverly tug her close, breaking eye contact to stare at Waverly’s mouth.
Waverly kisses Nicole deeply, and her heart stops and goes into overdrive all at once. Nicole responds with equal eagerness. Her mouth tastes like cherry and vanilla Waverly notes as she lets her hands wander up to play with Nicole’s hair, causing Nicole’s breath to hitch. She flicks her tongue across Nicole’s lip, seeking entrance, and that’s all it takes for Nicole to deepen the kiss further. Nicole’s hands slide up Waverly’s thighs, finding a place on Waverly’s hips as they explore each other’s mouths.
Waverly nips at Nicole’s bottom lip, greedily swallowing the gasp she gets in response. Her hands trace down Nicole’s neck to her sides, wrapping around Nicole’s waist and pulling her closer. Nicole’s motions slow for a moment, and her hands dance along the edge of Waverly’s shirt, fingers brushing just underneath the hem. It sends shocks through Waverly’s system, and she presses closer to Nicole, mouth pressing desperately into Nicole’s. She slides her hands down Nicole’s back, slipping them into Nicole’s back pockets. She gives an experimental squeeze as she pulls Nicole ever closer, trying to minimize any distance left between them. Nicole groans in response, her hands gliding a little further up Waverly’s shirt.
They’re interrupted by the sound of a door slamming. Waverly breaks away from Nicole reluctantly, and they turn to the source of the noise. To her mortification, Wynonna is standing next to the refrigerator, holding the milk carton casually. Waverly can feel her cheeks heat up, and Nicole lets out a pitiful groan, burying her head in Waverly’s shoulder.
“Man! About time you noticed me. I was worried I was gonna end up seeing something I wouldn’t ever be able to un-see,” Wynonna comments, taking a sip of milk from the carton. Waverly wants to protest, but can’t seem to find her words. “I’m gonna regret this but I gotta ask, what’s the syrup for? Something fun, I hope?” Wynonna asks, grinning. Waverly splutters in response.
“Oh no,” Nicole whispers from her spot at Waverly’s shoulder.
“I’ll take that as a yes?”
“No! We’re not. With the syrup. Or without! At all,”Waverly says, panic kicking her into high gear. “Wynonna, what are you doing here?”
“I was thirsty. Thus the milk,” Wynonna says, waving the now empty milk carton.
“I meant at home.”
“I had some free time. If I had known I would be interrupting something I would have stayed at the station, the sexual tension between you two has been killing me. I just don't want to be around when you finally do something about it.”
Nicole makes another distressed noise, not moving from her spot. Waverly glares at her sister, which seems to have no effect whatsoever.
“Anywho, I’ll just be on my way. Please continue,” Wynonna says, tossing the carton into the trash bin on her way to the door. “Though, friendly reminder, there are some beds right upstairs. They might be a bit more comfortable.” Wynonna winks and grabs a pancake from the stack as she exits the room.
With Wynonna gone, Nicole takes this moment to lift her head from Waverly’s shoulder. Waverly glares at the officer.
“Fat lot of help you were, you coward,” Waverly whispers, and all she gets in response is the most pathetic pair of puppy dog eyes she has ever had the misfortune to be on the receiving end of. Nicole opens her mouth to speak, but she gets interrupted when Wynonna pokes her head back into the room.
“These pancakes are great, did Haughtlips make these?” She asks around a mouth full of pancake. Nicole nods, wide-eyed. “She’s a keeper, Waverly. If you don’t date her, I will.” And with that Wynonna darts out of the room and out of the house.
Waverly doesn’t even have to look at Nicole to know the cocky smirk she’s got on her face. “Shut it, Nicole. Wynonna’s tastebuds are not to be trusted. It’s me that you have to impress.”
“I thought I just did that?” Nicole asks, her smirk not dropping for a second.
Waverly rolls her eyes at Nicole’s ridiculousness. The silence settles over them again slowly, and they can hear as Wynonna’s motorcycle revs up in front of the house. It’s a nice moment, but it only lasts until Nicole breaks the quiet, leaning back a few inches.
“Waverly. You still have your hands on my ass.”
“Hmm?” Waverly wiggles her fingers inside Nicole’s back pockets experimentally. “It seems I do.”
“Are you going to remove them?” Nicole asks, looking fondly exasperated.
“I don’t know, I think I like this position.”
Waverly pulls Nicole closer, bumping their noses together playfully. Nicole kisses her again and Waverly can almost lose herself in the moment. Or she would, if Nicole didn’t break the kiss before she could. Waverly isn’t too proud to admit that she whines a little bit at the loss of contact.
“Sorry, your sister killed the mood,” Nicole says with a shrug and a smile.
“We can still revive it. It’s more of a near-death experience of the mood, really,” Waverly says, trying to convince her.
“As much as I’d love to play doctor,” Nicole says with a wink. “I don’t want all my hard work going cold.”
Nicole grabs Waverly’s wrists, lifting her hands from her pockets. She presses a quick kiss to Waverly’s knuckles before stepping out of her reach. Waverly pouts as Nicole goes to the stove to grab the plate of pancakes and return them to the table. When Nicole turns to look at her again she pouts harder, her lower lip protruding an almost comical amount. She’s rewarded for her efforts with Nicole’s laugh, and then rewarded again when Nicole gives her a peck on the lips.
“Now am I going to have to eat all these pancakes alone, or are you going to help me out here?” Nicole asks, pulling out a chair at the table.
“No, I definitely need to eat some. How else am I supposed to judge their quality?” Waverly jokes, jumping off the counter.
“You still doubt my abilities?”
“I doubt your abilities in the kitchen. You’ve proved yourself in other areas.”