maybe we make this our happily ever after
When @yearoftheotpevent gives you the perfect inspiration for your OTP with a single prompt. TTwTT
Fic: "maybe we make this our happily ever after" [FFN] [AO3]
Pairings/Characters: Nick Torres/Ellie Bishop
Rating: T
Words: ~2,310
Additional info: romance, angst, 3rd person POV
Summary: Nick's long wondered—and has always wanted to ask Ellie—if they're the kind of people who deserve a happy ending.
Nick wakes up well ahead of his alarm and drags a hand across his face, ending in pinching the remaining bits of sleep dust from his eyes. He's not jet-lagged in the least—Miami and D.C. are in the same time zone, thankfully—but he's still utterly exhausted, and waking from the semblance of a nightmare the same morning he's due back at headquarters to present his report in person on shuttering that arms ring…well, Nick surely wishes he could turn his alarm off and sleep for another five hours, at least.
Instead, he lies awake and stares at the ceiling of his current dwelling.
It's…all right, he surmises of what he can squint in the early morning darkness. At least the place is clean and not in disrepair, like some of the places he's slept on certain assignments these last few years. Still—
It's not home. It's not the previous apartment he had, where he last risked setting roots, back when he'd been part of a team, part of something more.
…and, frowning at that thought, Nick huffs and sits up. He gropes for his phone on the nightstand to his right and turns off the alarm with a yawn. Director Vance isn't expecting him until later this morning, so Nick can waste a few hours as he pleases.
He pulls a few ingredients from the small fridge and quickly showers before whipping up an egg-heavy but filling breakfast. It's not Lucia's cooking, but it's safer for his big sister if she doesn't know about all these different Airbnbs with him back at it, even though Nick misses her dropping by to fill his fridge when he's not home.
This particular rental has a medium-sized, flat screen TV, so Nick turns on the news at a low volume after he finishes cleaning up in the kitchen. He stretches slowly, legs and arms, and pays half attention to the local and national headlines scrolling along. The news items never catch his interest, though, not when he knows they'll never contain information on one specific person.
Nick grimaces, thinking over how short the Miami op had been. That hadn't been fruitful—just a run-of-the-mill undercover assignment. And some jobs (most jobs) are like that, and he returned to undercover work expecting as much. But sometimes…sometimes, a case takes him places and he heard things. Be it this coast or the west, south of the border and accidentally crossing paths with his father, north of the border and on his own, back at the Pearl Harbor office to assist Tennant's team with a particular sloppy mission, or even in the northwest and close enough to meet a familiar pair of blue eyes from afar and exchange a reassuring nod before Nick brought in a fugitive from Alaska…he always heard things.
Snippets of a golden ghost.
Mumblings of a blond assassin.
Occasionally, a "fair-haired fixer."
They're vague rumors, and Nick never came close to discerning the credibility of the rumors at the time…but he knows he's got time on his side. After all, returning to undercover work is only partly because it's his area of expertise. The other half is because he's long desired the freedom to chase down leads on her.
He's daydreamed a million times over what he'd say, should they ever meet again—but he knows he at least wants to redo that parting, someway, somehow. And if seeing her again isn't in her handler's plans…
Nick shudders. It must've been a nightmare of earning Odette's ire, since he's got the two of them on his brain.
He dresses and goes for a light jog, familiarizing himself with the neighborhood and shaking off the eerie vibes Ziva's old compatriot gives him at the same time. It helps him kill time, too, and Nick takes a second brief shower before dressing for the day and leaving for NCIS.
The drive to the Navy Yard is average for this time of morning, right before the morning rush starts to spill into the streets. When Nick does arrive, he parks near the entrance of the lot. He needs the long walk to wake him up the rest of the way, and he needs the time to bury his personal stakes under other things so Vance and the others, if they're in, don't pry.
…it's funny, though. Nick returns time and again to headquarters, sometimes after a few weeks, sometimes after months and months on end, and he finds the red brick building an odd mix of home and alien to him. The sensation reminds him of even longer ago, back when he first took a desk job and put undercover work on pause while he adjusted to his new circumstances.
He scratches the back of his head, suddenly unsure about arriving so early. McGee's got kids to delay him and Knight's chronically late these days, but Vance and Parker—they turn up when you least expect them, and he's not sure he's ready for the kind of small talk they might prompt, so Nick veers off his direct path up the lot and heads for the footpath to the right, across the green. He internally heaves a sigh of relief, having bought himself another minute or two, and he stuffs his hands in his jeans' pockets—
—but then he spies a familiar form on the bench ten yards ahead, just ahead of the coffee cart, and he slows his pace to course-correct, all but forgetting his appointment later this morning.
When he's close enough, Nick carefully lowers himself on the opposite end from her. But, the whole time, his lips are parted and his brow is pinched, and he can't pull his eyes away from her.
From Ellie.
The bench isn't very big (there's space barely enough for a third person between them), but she leans back comfortably on his right side, and…she looks good, all things considered. She's dressed casual, like him, in jeans and her tan leather jacket, and she's got a takeout coffee in her hands and a bag of those shrimp chips Reeves used to buy her half-eaten beside her.
…but she's a little worn, too, Nick realizes. There are a few new lines around her eyes, and her hair—ah, she's sporting bangs again—is lighter in places. Though her left eye…something's off with her left eye, and Nick does his best to stop staring when he understands why: Her left eye is completely cloudy.
"Hey, Nick," Ellie says.
He responds half a beat late, because—given her eye and the way she faces forward—he wasn't sure she actually realized he'd sat down. "H-Hey."
Ellie smiles against the lid of her coffee as she takes a sip. "Something wrong?"
"I—" Nick lips his lips. "I didn't get enough sleep last night. But now I think I'm not even awake yet, because, if you're here…I have to be dreaming still."
She lowers her drink and grins, a familiar, toothy sight he hasn't seen in nearly ten long years. Ellie shakes her head and brushes a lock of hair behind her ear. "Nope, I'm here. Real and in the flesh." She takes one more sip before twisting around on the bench and tucking her left leg under her right, to face Nick.
This time, face to face, it's more apparent. Ellie's got one opal iris and one deep brown iris, one pupil gone and one visible, and he worries about the story behind this change.
Ellie leans against the back of the bench on her left arm. "By the way, I thought you'd like to know: I'm officially retired."
Nick blinks, his train of thought derailed. "Wait. What?"
"I'm coming in from the cold, Nick. I'm not Ellie Bishop, NCIS Special Agent. And I'm not Eleanor Bishop, disgraced federal agent. I'm just…Ellie." She exhales, slowly, almost a sigh. She's quiet for a moment as she reaches for his nearer arm with her free hand and pushes up the cuff of his thin jacket, tracing over a newer scar that peeks out over his wrist. "I see the same goes for you," she mumbles.
He frowns. He's still a mix of shock and amazement and concern—but Ellie's assessment is at least one thing he knows a thing or two about. "I'm back to doing what I know best," Nick admits with a glance at this scar. He huffs. "Although, is it just me, or are the bad guys stronger and faster these days?" Nick thinks aloud.
"Well, you've been doing this for more than twenty years, Nick. And you took a small hiatus."
He pouts but covers her hand with his, hiding that scar on his arm. "Maybe. Or maybe they just hit harder."
Ellie purses her lips. She sits up a little and leans forward, reaching up to trace the old scar from childhood in his right eyebrow. Then Ellie moves her thumb to just below his eye, along his cheekbone, tracing this mirrored scar from twenty months ago. "Do they?"
Nick tries to muster his cocksure grin for her. "Ah, that? Don't worry about that. I'm still pretty sure that was friendly fire from…ah, well, he'd never admit it, but Sam."
"Hanna? As in, the L.A. office?"
"Yeah. Let's just say he and Callen ended up needing backup with Morocco, part two."
Her brow furrows as she gives him a curious little smile, but Ellie chuckles.
"What?"
"Ohh, just. That would explain how I lost track of you for a time."
He gapes at her. For all he chased down leads on her—! "You kept tabs on me?"
"Don't look so surprised, Nick. But yeah, Hetty's office… I only got to work with Pride's team a few times, but everything I've ever heard about Hetty—she and Odette are two peas in a pod." She punctuates this with a sage nod of her head.
But the mention of the woman who upended their lives brings to mind his nightmare from this morning, and it also brings Nick's attention back to Ellie's face, to her eye and why she's really back. He turns to face her, too, and brushes her hair back from her face, finding himself frowning once more. "Ellie…you said you're back, for good. But what happened?"
A full minute of silence sits between them. Eventually, Ellie rests against his hand and gives him a fleeting, tight, tired smile. "…work hazard," she mumbles. She clears her throat and speaks more audibly, "Things didn't go right on what became my last mission, so…Odette said I'm out of the game."
Nick furrows his brow while his heart sinks for her, knowing how badly she'd wanted that opportunity from the start. "Really? Just like that?"
"Well, no. Surgery might still help, but a lot of time has passed. The more time that passes, the less successful it'll be."
"So—"
Ellie shakes her head. "I've adapted pretty well to my new blind spot, Nick. Funny thing is, all I could think was how relieved I was, finally coming home." Then she takes his hand from her face and holds it. She scoots closer and they sit together, quiet, letting the weight of her new reality sink in.
A small part of him still worries that this is just his imagination at its best, that he'll wake up and it'll be a dream for sure. So he tucks Ellie into his side and presses a kiss to her crown…and, for good measure, he tilts her chin up, kissing her lips, too.
(For two heartbeats, he flashes back unhappily to their parting, to their goodbye kiss at Odette's previous home.
But then Nick summons to mind countless nights spent at Ellie's old apartment, of legs tangled with sheets and her pressed against him, of what came after, all his chances to wake her up with a good-morning kiss and getting to look into those big brown eyes of hers, fixed just on him…her world, him, his world, her.)
They pull away, just enough to catch their breaths, and this time the silence doesn't feel so unbearable.
But Nick breaks the silence anyway: "Marry me, Ellie."
He thumbs her chin while she blinks and stares up at him in wide-eyed amazement. "…I thought, at best, we'd start over when I came back, if you wanted to," she replies.
Nick shakes his head. "We went through hell already. We've had our good and our bad and, yeah, there'll be more to learn along the way. But I don't need more time to figure out that I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I've…I've know that for years, Ellie."
She eases into a soft smile. "What about you getting back into undercover work?"
That gives him pause, but he's surprisingly thinking on his feet today. "You said it yourself: I've done it for more than twenty years. I have a nice pension coming my way… Maybe it's time I stop being Nick Torres, NCIS Special Agent. Maybe I get to be just…Nick."
Ellie hums under her breath, but the glint in her brown eye says she likes how he's using her argument.
So he raises his eyebrows at her, as if saying, Do I need to ask again?
But she cups his cheek and traces his newer scar once more with the pad of her thumb. "Marry me, Nick," she says, and she laughs when it takes him a second to piece together that her answer is a proposal, as well—how Ellie Bishop of her.
(But, he thinks when he kisses her anew, to seal the deal—to seal this promise—it's very them, and if this is simply how their fairy tale goes, then he's all right with that, because it's finally real, and they're done letting others stand in their way.)
Done for the If You Dare Challenge (for prompt #39: ten yards) in the HPFC forum on FFN as well as the Year of the OTP (June prompt: proposal) on tumblr. I…do have other Ellick ideas, but this one cropped up recently, mainly bc of that June prompt, so I just dashed off to write this. XD As for what would make Odette give up an asset like Bishop…well, I do wonder if Odette would let her go simply if Bishop said she wanted out, but an injury that could jeopardize their work strikes me as smthg Odette considers retirement-worthy (altho note that corneal blindness is deffo treatable with grafts/transplants…but it's still a difficult surgery and resources are limited even developed nations, so Bishop isn't far off in her remarks). Idk if I want to write the op where Bishop got injured, since this was mainly just part of an Ellick plotbunny, tho. Ahhh, and assorted name drops… -w- Random, but it gives me the warm&fuzzies to think we have very our own multiverse here: Regardless of which you've watched, this is your reminder that all four (soon to be five) NCISes, JAG, the Hawaii 5-0 reboot, and Scorpion are in the same universe, thx to backdoor pilots and xovers. (Also feel free to scream with me if you still love and miss Scorpion and think it deserved better. ;w;) ANYWHO! On to my next NCIS fic~ AH, and final, final note: Bc I couldn't find the best places to squeeze this info into the fic naturally/without disrupting the rhythm, I thought I'd elaborate on the timeline here. This fic presumes Nick being with the Parker-led team for five years, and he's been back in UC work for three after that, so he rly hasn't seen his Ellie for nearly ten. ;w; (He would absolutely be pension-eligible since, when he joined Team Gibbs in s14, Quinn remarked she'd trained him "8yrs ago" at FLETC when he began his NCIS career…so if s14 is his ninth year, then this would be his 21st. :'3)
Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!
~mew
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10, 27, 30, 36, and 57 for loah 😌
10.) Describe their first date.
I’ve talked about it a bit here! At risk of repeating myself too much, the gist is: their school hosts a little autumn festival every year in October. Lil and Noah met in kindergarten, and he had been harboring (what he thought was) unrequited feelings for her since he was really old enough to think about it. When they were 16, he finally worked up the courage to ask her to go with him, and was genuinely floored when she said yes.
27.) Who is the light weight that needs to be taken care of after a party?
Noah. He would have her beat, but she’s got werewolf metabolism on her side. They used to be pretty heavy partiers as teens, and Lil became very good at lugging his lanky ass home without incident.
30.) Your OTP gets to pick out each other's outfits; what is each wearing?
I say this completely and totally seriously, with my entire chest: Noah would dress her for comfort, not sex appeal. Big sweaters, fuzzy socks, you know the deal. The closest to “sexy” he would get is fleece lined leggings, which are more about warmth for her with the added bonus of making her ass look great.
On the other hand, Lily would put him in a tux. She’s never actually seen him in a proper one, as the tux he wore to prom was so ill-fitting (his father’s) she says it didn’t count. She also claims the tux he wore to his wedding doesn’t count, as she never saw it in person.
36.) Who's more likely to fire up the stove at 2am because the other woke up in the middle of the night hungry?
Noah. To be fair, he’s the kinda guy who would make himself a grilled cheese at 2am, so he’s perfectly happy to do it for her too. And Mia, probably, when she inevitably wakes to the smell of grilled cheese wafting up the stairs (or rather is woken up by her father’s loud ass voice).
57.) Whose the serious one when grocery shopping and who likes to toss random things in the cart?
Lily is 100% the serious one, while Noah is the one tossing a family sized box of poptarts in the cart that he plans on hoarding like a dragon with gold. Their bill is always a surprise, on account of Noah’s “fuck it, that sounds good” policy clashing with Lily’s curated list of what they actually need. It’s fine, he says. Everybody likes mini marshmallows, he says.
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