Chapter Text
Nicole won this one.
Waverly should have known. If she turned her charm on to lure straight men into signing contracts with her, what wouldn’t she do to win over Shae Pressman – a successful, beautiful lady doctor?
Waverly should have known.
She was fuming when she arrived at court. But another hearing facing off Nicole Haught was just what she needed to turn her anger – because that was what this was, pure anger – into a very well-aimed knife.
Waverly was ruthless, more so than usual, her mind sharp. She cornered Nicole at every misspoken question, every misstated conclusion. Still, the temporary victories did little to dissipate the burning she felt in her stomach.
“Congratulations,” Nicole said as she approached Waverly, the room already empty in the lunch rush. “That was a tongue-lashing.”
There it was, that vulgar, womanizing smirk painting Nicole’s lips dark red.
“Do you sleep okay when big companies like this one walk out free thanks to how good you are at spotting technicalities?”
Waverly recognized their usual badgering, but this time it had her blood boiling.
“Spare me your lousy loser snark.”
“Ouch. Someone is having a bad day.”
Waverly felt Nicole’s body align with her own from behind, close but not touching, and raspy words were delivered against her ear – “Maybe I can be of use.”
Waverly chuckled mirthlessly without looking at Nicole. “At least you know what you’re good for.”
The warmth at her back left her at once, and a weight settled on Waverly’s chest.
“What does that mean?”
“What do you think it means, Miss Haught?” She turned around and met Nicole’s gaze. “It was pretty clear.”
“So, I’m only good for sex. Is that it?”
“Don’t act so surprised when that’s the exact image you choose to strut around.”
Waverly observed as Nicole’s eyes got darker, duller.
Good.
“It’s fine, Nicole, not everybody is meant for relationships.”
“Oh, I see. I’m not, what? ‘The marrying kind’? But you are, right?”
“Well, at least I don’t use sex as a bargain chip.”
Nicole squeezed her eyes shut and sighed before looking at Waverly again.
“Bargain chip? What are you talking about?”
“Oh please, don’t be dense,” the gravel in her own tone hurt her throat. She felt raw. “Shae Pressman had already shaken hands on hiring us. Wanna tell me why she suddenly decided to go in a different direction?”
“Come on, you know how these things go. I flirted, but I didn’t sleep with her.”
“That’s some impressive flirting if in one meeting you managed to undo weeks of negotiations.”
“Yea, it is, actually. And you know it. It won you over.”
“Right.” Waverly swallowed thickly and shrugged. “So, I guess you worked that tongue on her too.”
“Of course n-”
“Just be careful,” Waverly interrupted her, “you don’t want to lose the respect of your clients and colleagues by being everybody’s booty call.”
“Everybody’s- Screw you, Waverly. I didn’t sleep with her. And you don’t get to look down on me for answering when you’re the one calling me.”
“Yea. Screw me. Is that why you were pushed out of the DA’s office? Did you screw someone you shouldn’t have on your way up?”
Nicole shook her head. “You’re mean when you’re jealous, and you have no idea what you’re talking about. Don’t call me again.”
Waverly watched as Nicole turned and walked away, but still the anger burned bright in her chest, words stuck in her throat.
Good riddance.
That night, with a third glass of whiskey in her hand, Waverly started to feel the uncoiling of that tight knot of anger in her stomach, her blood cooler in her veins. She was tired of being angry. And she could admit to herself she’d blown things a bit out of proportion. Her company and Nicole’s were often competing for the same clients. And Nicole was way too charming for her own good.
It didn’t mean that Nicole hadn’t had sex with Shae, but it didn’t mean that she had either.
Once a little calmer and a bit more than a little drunk, angry sex started to seem like a great solution for the little altercation she’d had with Nicole. If nothing else, keeping Nicole busy would keep her away from Shae. The idea made her feel more at ease instantly.
Yea. She could keep Nicole away from Shae.
Because that would mean that maybe the successful doctor would go back on hiring Nicole’s firm. That’s what this was about: winning. Or, at least, not losing.
The door opened to reveal brown eyes harder than Waverly had ever seen them.
“What are you doing here?”
Waverly stepped past Nicole, letting herself in. She turned around and started to undo the buttons of her blouse.
“Let’s fuck this out.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Come on, Nicole,” Waverly said oily. She forced her lips into a smirk, hoping the clear invitation would do the job for her. “Are you still offended because I pointed out you’re not the white picket fence type?”
Nicole passed her hand through her hair, clearly frustrated and oh so attractive. Waverly wanted a fistful of that hair instantly.
“Yea, I’m not gonna do this. Go home, Waverly.”
“Look, we’re not 1950’s housewives. There’s nothing wrong with not being-”
“Just- Go home. I don’t want to do this now, okay?”
Stepping closer, closer… close to Nicole, Waverly leaned one arm on her shoulder, her other one crumpling up Nicole’s soft t-shirt. She took a purposeful deep breath in that put her cleavage in evidence, and pouted.
“So, you don’t want to get laid because I teased you a little bit?”
“I’m used to your teasing, to our stupid courtroom trash talk. Today you were… God, I don’t even know.” Nicole took a step away from her, untangling Waverly’s arms from around herself and crossing her own in front of her chest. “You were shaming me, insinuating I slept my way up. I got the general message: I’m a whore and not good enough for you.”
No, that’s not… Waverly had said it, she’d more than insinuated it, but she hadn’t meant it. At least not with a clear head.
“Nicole…” Waverly wrapped her limbs around herself. Her feet felt glued to the floor, unsure how to react.
“It was a shitty thing to say. You have no idea how much I-,” Nicole stopped herself, her eyes intent and hurt staring into Waverly’s. “You have no idea what I want.”
“Come on,” Waverly pleaded. She could only hope Nicole hadn’t heard the tremble in her tone. “You’re telling me you want the pretty, little wife and the house in the suburbs? Please.” It lacked the dismissal Waverly had been going for, her voice still weak with uncertainty, and she was pretty sure the both of them were aware of how off her aim had been.
“Like I said, you have no idea what I want.”
It would have been hard to spot the new rush of blood that rose to Nicole’s cheeks hadn’t Waverly been observing her so closely. But she was, and, despite Nicole’s indifferent words, clear embarrassment tinted her cheeks red where before there had been a slightly angry pink.
“We’re asshole lawyers working for big ass companies. That life is not for us.”
And it wasn’t. Waverly couldn’t imagine leaving the rush of sound and movement that was Manhattan to move to a quaint little neighborhood where kids could play outside, where the streets were made of stone and the ground was uneven.
She couldn’t imagine that without reminding herself of her young aspirations of becoming an environmental lawyer. She couldn’t imagine that without the consequent loss of Willa and her father’s respect.
“That’s just our job,” Nicole’s voice shifted her attention back from a place she'd rather not visit, “it can be changed whenever we want. Whatever image you have of me, a flirty asshole of a lawyer,-”
“I got it wrong.”
“Yea, you did.”
“I’m sorry. Can we…” Waverly stepped closer to Nicole again, finally able to move. She reached out to grasp the edge of Nicole’s t-shirt with the tips of her fingers. She needed to fix this. “Can we move past this? I was just angry about you stealing my client and blew up. It won’t happen again.”
Nicole chuckled, but there was no humor in it. She shook her head, and Waverly understood that, for whatever reason, Nicole didn’t believe her.
“Come on,” she tried again. “I’m sorry I said all those nasty things. I over-reacted. I don’t even believe the things I said. I’m sex-positive, you know that.”
“Right, except when that’s sex I’m supposedly having with someone else.”
No. This wasn't about Waverly acting like a jealous girlfriend. She wasn't jealous and, more importantly, she wasn't a girlfriend.
“Tsk. That was about you stealing my contract with a big clinic.”
“Sure, Waverly,” Nicole allowed, the clear disbelief in disagreement with her words.
It was fine, though. Waverly wasn’t in a position to push her right now anyway. Let her believe whatever she wanted. At least for the night.
“I was thinking we could make tonight just about you, hm? I should pay for my actions. You could lock me up, or I could pay… service… Or both.”
Her heart was running. She wasn’t usually this forward. But this was a quick fix, wasn’t it? It was what they both wanted from each other. She just hoped Nicole’s want of her was stronger than the anger she’d provoked.
And Waverly saw that want in Nicole right then, in the way her throat worked as she heard Waverly’s offer. The brown in her irises pushed smaller and smaller as her pupils dilated. Waverly could feel her own body reacting to the visual response she’d gotten from Nicole.
“Jesus,” Nicole said as she broke the short spell the both of them had been under. “You really can’t treat me like that, Waverly.”
“I know. I won’t," she rushed to agree. "I was way out of line. So... let me make it up to you. Please?”
Nicole let out a small whine, struggling with herself, but so ready to give into her that Waverly could almost taste her.
Almost.
“I don’t think we should. I’m… I’m not ending this, not right now, anyway, but-”
“Ending?” Waverly got stuck on that word. She felt her organs relocate, reorganize themselves to protect the most tender parts of her, ready for another blow.
“I'm not ending it. But I do think we should give each other some space.”
“Space?”
“Yea.”
Space.
They’d fought before. They fought all the time, always trying to find a way to get under each other’s skin, make each other lose their cool, lose their case, their contract. But that, ever since that first time, always, always ended up in harsh, delicious bites and finger-shaped bruises on the inside of her thighs.
Space.
Manhattan felt colder on her way home.