| NIC-FICS (The strange and warped world of Nicki fanfiction!) And now part 2.... |
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| Nicki stared up at the ceiling for a long time, willing herself not to cry, not wanting to make any more of a scene in front of Simon than she already had done but at the same time longing for some kind of comfort, for someone to talk to. Almost as though he sensed this Simon pulled her closer to him. "Look Nicki, I know I'm not Claire Rayner or anything but if you want to talk to me that's fine and I'll do what I can to help." She took a deep breath, "I know it's a clich� Simon, the oldest clich� in the world, but my husband doesn't understand me." Simon started to laugh at the very familiar words, "I've used that line on countless women." "You have a husband that doesn't understand you?" Nicki started to laugh, and a smile spread across her previously miserable face. "And to think I always thought you were a 'straight down the line' kind of guy." Simon poured her another drink, still chuckling away to himself, "I'm glad to see you smiling again, but do you want to tell me why this husband of yours doesn't understand you? Because when I tell a girl that, it's just an excuse for having two girls on the go at once but it seems to me that you really mean it." "Yeah I mean it." Nicki returned to staring at the ceiling, "I love him to bits Simon but he can be such an arsehole sometimes. Take tonight for example. I'm," she hesitated, slightly embarrassed at being so honest with Simon, "well, lonely. I'm missing him. I guess I'm a bit homesick, and I know that sounds mad because our careers take us far apart all the time and normally I'm fine with it but right now, I'm not." The words were tumbling out at an amazing rate and suddenly Simon realised she was crying again. He reached for her and stroked her hair soothingly. He was a little taken aback by her confession of homesickness but at the same time he knew how much she loved Shacky, and would no doubt live in his pocket permanently given the opportunity. He took her hand in his own and squeezed it tightly, "So what happened?" "I rang him up and cried down the phone. He told me if I hated being apart that much I should think about giving up work and starting a family. I told him I didn't want to, which he took that exceptionally personally and said I obviously didn't want to be helped." She reached for Simon's cigarettes, took another from the packet and lit it, her hands shaking, frustration and anger flooding her face, "And that's my point Simon. I didn't want to be helped. I wasn't looking to him for fucking answers; there are no answers. I just wanted him to say he missed me too." Her outburst was followed by another spontaneous flood of tears. Once again Simon pulled her into his arms and just let her cry, lost for words for more or less the first time in his life. He'd known Nicki for years and never had he seen her so upset "I think" he finally managed to say, "Shacky probably just felt out of his depth. He loves you, he must have felt very helpless." It was a problem that he felt that in some small way he could relate to - he wasn't sure what to say to her either. "Nicki" he tilted her head so she was staring into his eyes although he doubted she could see a thing through all the tears and mascara, "he loves you, and no doubt misses you a hell of a lot. It was a silly misunderstanding. Don't waste time worrying about it because it'll be fine when you get home." Nicki finally composed herself, wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at Simon with a slight smile on her face, "Mr Cowell, if you're such an expert on marriage and relationships why do you change your girlfriends more often than your underwear? Ah hang on," her smile widened, "don't tell me, not enough room in the Aston Martin for a baby seat eh?" "You're a cheeky cow Chapman" Simon told her, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief that she'd stopped crying "but I meant what I said, you have to stop worrying about it. Here, have another drink, and relax." And so she did. She curled up in his arms with a Jack Daniels in one hand and a cigarette in the other, listening to 'Late Night Love' on Clyde FM and chatting about the auditionees they'd seen that day. From Nicki's point of view it was nice to have Simon around (laughing hysterically at Simon being ultra deprecating about many of the auditionees left very little time to dwell or be miserable). But for them both it was a great chance to unwind after a long day and share a few drinks with someone they liked and respected. Eventually though Nicki went quiet and slipped into the waking coma that usually accompanied her drinking alcoholic beverages she wasn't used to, and ended up cuddled up in the crook of Simon's arm with her head resting on his chest, staring up at him vaguely. "Do you want me to go?" he asked her gently. "No." she replied sleepily, running her hand down his face, "I like having you here Simon. Simon grinned, amused at seeing the normally so together and professional Nicki Chapman in a doe eyed, floppy kind of state. 'A bit like a rag doll.' He thought to himself, 'but beautiful with it'. That train of thought shocked him. He'd never really thought of Nicki being especially attractive before. She'd always been 'Nicki in promotions' or 'Nicki at Brilliant!' or 'Nicki, Dave's wife' not 'Nicki who's sprawled all over me wearing just pyjamas". A second train of thought came crashing to a halt as it occurred to him that he'd not realised until now that Nicki was actually wearing far less than he'd ever seen her in before. He was becoming increasingly aware they were physically closer than they'd ever been before. Infact, the only time he ever got this close to a woman was when� Was when� Was when�. Well, he was about to have sex with her. Suddenly uncomfortable with the situation he tried to move, but before he could Nicki was wrapping her arms around his neck and he found himself looking her straight in the eyes. It was then that he came to the crashing realisation that he wanted to make love to her. And mores to the point, she wanted him to. One lingering look later, they were ripping each other's clothes off, without another word being uttered. No 'what about your husband?'. No 'I find you incredibly attractive', no 'would you like to sleep with me?' - just sex. Full on passionate, fulfilling sex, the likes of which neither of them had ever had with anyone else. Afterwards as they lay under the covers, Simon looked at Nicki, guilt written all over his face. "I shouldn't have done that. I don't take advantage of drunken women." Nicki, who was grinning from ear to ear reached for his hand, "Don't worry about it. I wasn't that drunk. I sobered up when you started touching me and I realised I was in for the ride of my life." Simon still wasn't convinced, "What about Dave?" Nicki rolled her eyes, "For crying out loud Simon, I thought you were a total playboy. What the hell are you doing going all 'angsty'. You'll ruin your reputation and give me a complex." She leant over and kissed him, "This is no big deal, just a one night thing between colleagues. Heat of the moment, once in a lifetime bloody fantastic sex. Ok?" She saw Simon relax and wondered if just maybe he'd been worried that she'd have fallen madly in love with him or something equally as daft. Egotistical bastard. Still if he had been worried, he wasn't anymore. "Nic? If this is just a one night thing, can we keep going all night?" Simon asked her, a grin to match her own spreading across her face. He didn't even wait for an answer before leaping on her. But it didn't matter. The word 'no' never even entered her head anyway. |
| Click Here For Part 3 |