Wick and Balefire

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By Draes Letum

I'd love to have you as a partner.

Sorry, Fluff, but I wouldn't dream of it. I'd lose all my connections as a cop! Trust me, I'm more useful to you as a conman.

But... I don't know, Nick, I kinda like knowing you've got my back.

Then I'll be there as often as I can. You and me, we can take on the world together, and I don't need a badge to prove it.

"I feel safe when you're around," she wanted to say as he shoos her back onto stage. From a distance he inspired confidence, a strength she couldn't quite place. She was distracted by him as she made her speech about the predators they rescued from Cliffside. Clever fox never stopped grinning when she stumbled over her words. She hardly got to answer any questions as she quickly excused herself.

In another world, he doesn't become a cop, staying a conman but opting to aid her. They never have a falling out and they catch Bellwether without further complications. He's usually still there by her side, but never as close as he could have.

~o}{o~

She was quite bright in the morning when she saw him in her kitchen cooking for her, essentially having trespassed into her own home, but his frayed edges and his half-tucked shirt beneath the gaudy throw-away apron told her that he got here in a hurry.

"How did you get in here?" she asked in mock frustration, sauntering over to his side, looking for the telltale signs of any roughing up he might have escaped from, which were absent. So she's left to wonder.

"I picked up lock picking with Finnick," he told her with an ease he only knew with her, a cheeky grin to him that wasn't so much a signature as it was permanently plastered to his stupid face. "Thought it would come in handy today." He shrugged as he placed another eggplant onto the pan.

"You mean you learnt it this morning to break into my apartment?" She crossed her arms, quirking a brow.

"Not my fault you traded noisy neighbors for cheap locks."

She'd argue, usually, but the con-fox had always been the crafty sort who did what he wanted. It's not like most of the things he did were illegal, just sleezy. And this, she thought, was just one of those moments where he's all him and she'll just have to put up with it.

So all she did was sigh and sit at her own table, watching with some fascination at how the fox cooks for prey. And she found that he's quite skilled at it, but she realized that cooked eggplant slices and lasagna wasn't as skilled as it was clever.

"A good conman can accommodate any guest, so you can imagine what kind of skills I've picked up," he said, watching her take another meditative bite of his cooking.

She leveled a brow at him. "Is that so? Can you dance?"

He left his apron on the island counter and proceeded to tap dance. Then river dance. Then the Cossack coupled with a failed attempt at a Russian accent. Then he took her hand as he pulled her in, showing her his vast array of experience on the waltz.

And yet, for all her grace and talent, Nick was quite surprised – and quietly pleased – that she didn't know how to waltz passed the basics. "Everyone was too intimidated to ask me out to any of the dances so I never felt the need to learn."

He thought it quite silly and rather sad as he rolled his eyes, taking her up in his arms, having decided to teach her. In the very least she was a fast learner, but she messed up a few times – though far less than he did when he first tried. Almost an hour passed before he gave up teaching her how to cross-step and spin, as he opted to give up halfway through the lesson and just spin her in his arms until they were dizzy.

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