Disclaimer: This story is based on characters from the "Forever Knight" television series. I'm just borrowing them for a little while and promise to return them soon, good as new. Honest. This latest bit of insanity is a cross between a Valentine's Day story and a birthday present. If you don't like it, blame it on Nancy Kaminski. It's her fault for being born in the first place. While there's nothing explicit here, this should probably be viewed as PG-13 due to numerous sexual innuendoes. Permission is granted to archive this story at Mel Moser's FK fanfic site and the FK ftp site. If anyone else would like it, by all means ask. Happy Birthday, Nancy! This one's for you! ==================== Selective Hearing by Cindy Ingram February 1999 ==================== Nick Knight breezed through the doorway of the coroner's building, accompanied by a strong gust of wind that played havoc with a stack of papers on a nearby counter. Without slowing, he set off down a side corridor, his long black coat billowing out behind him like a great bird of prey. His single-minded passage attracted more than a few interested looks. Nick was a familiar figure to those who worked the night shift, and he usually took the time to acknowledge their presence, smiling and greeting each of them by name. But not this time. This time, he was obviously preoccupied with other things. Or other people. One person in particular, perhaps? It was a thought apparently shared by more than one, as several puzzled expressions dissolved into knowing grins. Meanwhile, the object of their speculation was striding down the hallway, oblivious to the mild stir he'd left in his wake. He was too busy rehearsing the speech he'd prepared on his way from the station house to the morgue. He'd waffled back and forth all evening, but now he had definitely decided. And he wasn't changing his mind. After all, what harm could it do to invite Nat over for a quiet dinner at the loft? It didn't have to mean anything. They'd done it a hundred times before. The fact that it happened to be Valentine's Day was totally irrelevant. It wouldn't be a romantic dinner, just two friends spending time together. And he needed to spend some time with her, on this day of all days. Even though she didn't remember its significance, he did. Perhaps that's why the tension had been building inside him these past few weeks, twisting him into knots. And this time, there was no Janette to smooth them out. The last time he'd been alone with Natalie, he'd come close to gnashing his fangs in sheer frustration. But avoiding her hadn't helped either. If anything, it had only increased his frustration. So he had decided to meet it head on. If he couldn't conquer it with distance, maybe he could satisfy it with proximity. Without giving in to any of his baser urges, of course. Taking a deep breath, he pushed through the door to the examining room, ready to deliver a cheerful greeting. But it lodged in his throat as he spotted her at the counter, leaning over a microscope, scrubs pulled tight across her hips and soft curls tumbling loose around her shoulders. His mouth went dry as he stood silently in the doorway. His arrival hadn't gone unnoticed, however. Natalie straightened and turned, smiling a welcome as she beckoned to him peremptorily. Automatically, he moved forward. "Hey, you!" she greeted him. "Give us a kiss." His steps faltered, and he came to an uncertain standstill in the middle of the room. He stared at her. She stared back. "What?" she asked, her smile fading. "What's wrong?" "Nothing, I just --" He stopped, swallowing hard. "Wha ... what did you say?" "I said, come look at this. I've found something here I think you'll be interested in." She turned back to the microscope. Still staring, Nick blinked once, twice, then shook his head as if to clear it. He could have sworn ... "Nick?" "Hmm?" "Sometime this century?" "Oh." He cleared his throat. "Sure." Joining her at the counter, he took a seat on the stool as she moved to one side. He glanced at her uncertainly, but at her silent urging obediently leaned forward to peer through the microscope. His attention wandered when he caught her tantalizing scent, but he concentrated hard on blocking it out, focusing instead on the slide beneath the lens. "What is it I'm looking at?" he asked. "You can't tell?" "It looks like a big blur." "Oops. Must have messed up the setting. Just a sec." He leaned back slightly as she moved in to adjust the focus. When her soft hair fell across his hand and the side of her breast brushed against his arm, it took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to react. But he felt an undeniable tightening in his groin that caused him to shift uncomfortably on the stool. "There. That should do it." She stepped back and looked at him expectantly. With clenched jaw, he again bent to peer through the microscope, struggling to ignore the seductive warmth radiating from her body. "It --" He cleared his throat and tried again. "It looks like a ... a woman's fingernail?" "Give the man a cigar!" Natalie smiled. "That's exactly what it is. I found it partially embedded in your stabbing victim's arm when I examined the body earlier. But it's not just any fingernail. It's a *sculpted* nail, with a very distinctive decorative pattern that doesn't match any commercially marketed designs on record. I checked. I'm betting it's custom-made, possibly even one-of-a-kind. Now whether it was actually worn by a woman or a man ... " She shrugged. "I'll leave you and your partner to figure that one out." Nick pulled back from the microscope, and Natalie leaned toward him, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Nick, I think we should get it on, right here." He froze, struggling to process what he'd just heard, before slowly turning to look at her. "What?" he asked weakly, trying to sound nonchalant but failing dismally. Natalie didn't seem to notice. "I said I think we're really on to something here. Find the owner of this nail, Nick, and I have a hunch your case will be solved." "Oh." A wave of relief ... and something else ... washed over him. He smiled at her uncertainly. "Thanks, Nat." What on earth was wrong with him? He must be wound even tighter than he'd thought. "My pleasure. Any little thing I can do to help nail the killer," she deadpanned. Nick's nervous smile changed to a pained grimace as he groaned and shook his head, his previous discomfiture forgotten in the wake of her incredibly bad pun. Now *this* was the Natalie he knew and loved. *This* was the Natalie he could handle. He gazed at her in tender amusement as she grinned back unrepentantly. "Sorry," she said, though it was perfectly clear she wasn't. "It's okay," Nick laughed. "I forgive you." He hesitated, then took the plunge. "But there is a way you can make it up to me. I was thinking --" "Oh!" Natalie exclaimed, snapping her fingers as she interrupted him. "I almost forgot." Nick watched, puzzled, as she turned away and moved to her desk, reaching behind it to pull out a large paper sack. "I have something else for you. Several somethings, actually." Nick's curious gaze followed her as she returned and placed the bag on the counter. Had she bought him something for Valentine's Day? If so, that could be good, or that could be bad. He wasn't certain which. But looking at her, while she stood there smiling bewitchingly at him, eased any misgivings he might have had and left him with a heady sense of anticipation. What she pulled from the sack, however, made him rethink his position. It was a protein shake. "Here it is, the new and improved version of Dr. Lambert's magic elixir. Guaranteed to disgust and nauseate but chock-full of vitamins, iron and essential protein. Everything a growing vampire needs. Yum." "Nat --" "C'mon Nick. Be a man." She grinned again, offering him the cup. Reluctantly, he reached out and took it, gingerly pulling off the plastic lid and frowning at the sight of the thick, gray liquid inside. Everything a vampire *didn't* need, was more like it. He sighed and took a small sip, trying hard not to gag as it settled on his tongue. "That's it," Natalie said approvingly. "Drink it all down like a good boy, and you can follow it up with these." She reached back into the sack, pulling forth a box of cookies -- lemon cookies, to be precise. Nick frowned, hoping she wasn't serious. But he couldn't ask without swallowing first, so he chose to remain silent. "Nick, give it up." Natalie crossed her arms. "You have two choices -- either spit it out or swallow. And I think you know which one you better pick," she warned him. Closing his eyes, he swallowed, then had to fight back a less appealing urge. But when he felt Natalie's hand softly patting his cheek in silent approval, he decided it might have been worth it. Almost. Nick opened his eyes to focus on the box of cookies, staring at it as if it might jump out of her hand and attack him. "Nat? You're not serious about those, are you?" She regarded him with a solemn expression. Then her mouth twitched and she relented, laughing softly. "It's okay, Nick. I have no intention of making you eat them," she assured him. "All you have to do is reimburse me, and then you can do whatever you please with them. Just be sure to tell Jenny they were delicious, okay?" At Nick's puzzled frown, Natalie shook her head. "The annual Girl Guide cookie sale, remember? Myra brought Jenny over to the squad room with the sign-up sheet. You ordered some. I ordered some. Is any of this ringing a bell?" Nick smiled ruefully, nodding his head. "Yes, it is. I'm sorry, I just forgot." He pointed to the sack. "Are all those mine?" "No, some of them are mine. Hold on, and I'll sort them out." She pulled a box of chocolate/peanut butter cookies out of the bag. "Mine." Then a box of chocolate/caramel cookies. "Mine again." Next came a box of vanilla creme and one of ginger snaps. "Both yours." Then three more boxes, all of the chocolate variety. "Mine, mine, and mine." Nick grinned. "I'm noticing a trend here." Natalie turned to him with pursed lips and a mock glare. "And *I'm* noticing that you haven't been drinking the rest of your shake." But Nick barely heard her. He was too distracted by her mouth and thoughts of how cute it looked, all puckered up that way. He couldn't help wondering what it would be like to lean over and ... "Nick?" With a guilty start, he came back to himself. "Yeah?" "The shake?" He sighed. "I know, I know. Better than chocolate, right?" He squeezed his eyes shut again and took another swallow. "There's *nothing* better than chocolate, Nick -- unless it's a multiple orgasm, that is." The mouthful of protein shake spewed in an arc across the floor, all but the tiny bit he choked on. "Nick!" Coughing and sputtering, he turned to find Natalie gazing at him in disbelief. "What was *that* all about?" she demanded. "Sorry, Nat," he apologized between coughing fits. "I was just ... surprised ... to hear you say that." "Why should you be surprised?" she asked, frowning. "You, of all people, know how I feel about a good triple orange fizz. It's one of my more notorious addictions." Eying him suspiciously, she pulled open a drawer and handed him a towel. He took it, then quickly squatted to wipe up the mess he'd made, grateful for the excuse to avoid eye contact until he could compose himself again. He felt like an idiot. But he couldn't rid himself of the arousing image her words had placed in his mind. This was going from bad to worse. If he didn't do something soon, he might be forced to leave Toronto for good, and he wasn't ready for that yet. Better that, though, than to put her in even more danger than she already faced. He did some quick thinking. Under the circumstances, a cozy evening at the loft no longer seemed like a good idea. A public dinner would be safer. He rose, tossing the soiled towel into a laundry hamper stationed in the corner, then turned back to Natalie. "I, uh ... I actually had a reason for stopping by here, aside from following up on the Corretti case, I mean. I wondered if you might like to go out to dinner tonight." Natalie stared at him, open-mouthed. "Dinner?" she finally asked. Nick nodded. "Tonight." He nodded again. "Nick." Her voice was uncharacteristically hesitant as she spoke his name. "You do know what night it is, don't you?" He thought about nodding again but decided her question required more of a response. "It's Valentine's, I know. But so what? It's been a while since we've done anything together. I didn't have any plans, and if you don't either, I thought we might as well ... hang out." "You said you wanted us to go out to dinner." "Yeah." "Nick, 'hanging out' usually implies popcorn and videos at the loft, not dinner in a restaurant." He shrugged. "No big deal. I just thought it might be fun to do something different, for a change." Striving to appear casually unconcerned, Nick picked up a pair of forceps from a nearby instrument tray and fiddled with them as he waited for her response. "You think it might be fun to *eat* something?" She regarded him with a skeptical expression. "No," he retorted, "I thought it might be fun to watch *you* eat something." "And it doesn't bother you that if somebody happened to see us out having dinner tonight, they might get the wrong idea?" "Nat, people already have the wrong idea, you know that. I don't think one dinner is going to make any difference one way or the other." He smiled expectantly. "So ... what do you say?" Natalie bit her lip, thinking hard, then looked up. "I'm tempted to pinch your behind. But frankly, I'd rather run my fingers through your hair." Nick stared at her, dumbstruck. "Nick? What's wrong?" "I ... I ... uh ... nothing," he stammered. "Nothing's wrong." "Are you sure? Because if I didn't know better, I'd say you were a little flushed." Natalie reached up to lay her hand on his forehead but stopped when he jerked back. At her surprised look, he tried to laugh it off. "I'm fine, Nat. Really," he assured her. "I was just thinking about something else and didn't hear what you said." He took a deep breath. "Could you tell me again?" He watched as Natalie's eyes narrowed. But, thankfully, she didn't press the issue. "I asked what you had in mind because, frankly, I'm not sure I have anything to wear," she repeated, a slight frown causing her forehead to crinkle. But the frown quickly evaporated as a wicked gleam appeared in her eyes. "Then again," she breathed, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper, "I don't suppose I have to wear anything." The tip of her tongue snaked out and Nick stared, mesmerized, as it languidly traced a hot, wet path across her bottom lip. He almost dropped the forceps he was holding, but through a supreme act of will managed not to make a fool of himself yet again. Instead, he summoned up a weak smile. "Sorry ... uh, sorry. I ... zoned out again for a second." He looked suitably apologetic. "You were saying?" "I *said*, I guess I can wear anything. Since it's not like we're going on a real date, I mean." "I'm sure you'll look great in ... whatever." Nick agreed quickly, anxious now to conclude the conversation and be on his way. If he didn't get back to the loft and get a few hours sleep -- not to mention three or four bottles of cow's blood -- their evening out was sure to end in disaster. He just hoped it would be enough to fix whatever was wrong with him. If not, he didn't know what he'd do. "Look, the sun will be up soon, so you'd better get going," Natalie said. "Why don't I call you when I get home, and we'll decide then on a restaurant. We might have trouble getting reservations at such short notice, so we should probably choose a couple of backups." "Sounds like a plan," Nick hastily agreed, doing a little backing up himself as he inched toward the door. He playfully saluted her with the forceps. "I'll be waiting by the phone, Doctor," he said, and turned to leave. "Nick, wait!" Halting, he closed his eyes for an instant before reluctantly turning around. She waved him back over to the counter, and he grudgingly complied. "Yeah, Nat?" Staring up at him, she crossed her arms. "Whether you like it or not, we're going to have to have sex." Nick took an involuntary step forward and bumped into the instrument tray, sending both the forceps and the rest of the tray's contents crashing to the floor. Natalie jumped one way, and Nick jumped the other. They wound up a few feet apart, staring dumbfounded at each other. Natalie recovered first and glared at him, hands on her hips. "Okay, that's it! Nick, what is going on here? What's wrong with you? Did something happen? Did you get shot in the head again and forget to tell me?" Nick opened his mouth to deny it, then stopped, thinking hard. He'd started to say no, but if he had, was there any guarantee he'd remember it? He hadn't last time. In fact, he'd forgotten a lot more than just getting shot. Maybe ... He shook his head. Now he was really getting ridiculous. "Then what is it? I ask you to take six measly boxes of cookies," she said, gesturing dramatically toward the boxes still stacked on the counter, "and you practically jump out of your skin! You can't tell me there isn't something going on here, Nick. I want to know ... right now!" Nick glanced away, desperate for some way out. Then, inspiration struck. "I'm sorry, Nat," he said, his expression contrite. "I should have said something sooner, but I didn't want to bring it up. It's been a while since I fed. I guess I'm a little edgy." That last part was true, at least. "I'm sorry," he repeated, for good measure. Luckily, it worked. The tension drained from Natalie's body and her voice softened. "I wish you'd just told me that in the first place, Nick. I know I've told you to cut back, but I don't expect you to starve yourself." She sighed. "Go on home. I'll call you." Nick nodded, quickly gathering up the cookie boxes. "Nat? I'm a little short on cash right now. Can I pay you later?" "Sure, no problem. Or you could just bite my neck instead." The boxes went flying as he looked at her, horrified. "Nat, you can't mean that!" Then he groaned, realizing his mistake the instant the words left his mouth. It had been a knee-jerk response, but it was too late to call it back. He swore under his breath. Natalie slammed her hand down on the counter, her expression ominous. "For crying out loud, Nick, if you don't want to write a check, just forget it! I don't care *how* you pay for the stupid things! In fact, don't even worry about it. *I'll* pay for them, okay? Just go home and drink some blood! Geez!" With that, she turned her back on him as she angrily shoved the remaining boxes into the sack. "That's it ... I have had *enough* fun for one day," she muttered sarcastically. Abruptly, she stopped and whirled around to face Nick. "I'm going to rip your clothes off now," she announced sternly, "then I can strip for you later at the loft." Nick's knees buckled slightly and he swallowed hard. He knew he should keep his mouth shut but was somehow unable to manage it. "Do you really think you should?" he asked, his voice faint. He couldn't deny the idea held a certain appeal. She glared up at him, her temper nearing the breaking point. "What?!" she demanded. "Close up shop now? Or meet you at the loft?" He couldn't believe it. It was getting worse with each passing moment. He had to leave before he lost his mind -- or his control -- completely. He was afraid to look at her directly for fear she would spot the tinge of gold that the image of a naked Natalie had brought to his eyes. His fangs were on the verge of dropping, increasing his sense of urgency. He was so aroused, now, that he would have to leave the Caddy parked outside and take to the air. He had to put as much distance as possible between Natalie and himself, and fast. "I meant, meet me at the loft," he explained, his voice hoarse with barely restrained passion, his words coming faster as he backed hastily toward the door. "You know, I think it would be better if I came to pick you up at your place. Or ... or maybe we could just meet there ... wherever it is we decide to go. I don't know. We'll talk about it later, okay? Gotta go." And with that, he was out of the room and halfway down the hall before the door stopped swinging. For several long moments, Natalie stared at the door. Then, slowly, she crossed to her desk and plopped down in her chair, leaning forward to rest her head on folded arms. Gradually, her shoulders started shaking, and several more moments passed before she could lift her head again. Oh, my. That had been *so* much fun. She shook her head, wiping tears of laughter from her cheeks. She loved Nick, she really did. But he wasn't the only one who lived with frustration. She could teach an advanced course on the subject at any university you cared to name. And the *nerve* of him, trying to set up something at the last minute, just assuming she wouldn't have any other plans. Which, in all fairness, she didn't. But that was beside the point. And then trying to pass it off as just two friends "hanging out." She'd expected him to pull something like this, and she'd been prepared. After all, if he could mess with her mind, as he'd done when he'd tried to erase her memories of last Valentine's Day, then turnabout was fair play. She could do a little "messing with" of her own, right? Of course, she'd have to find a way to make it up to him. She didn't want him miserable, just ... humble. And she had to admit, the idea of a romantic Valentine's dinner with Nick was something she'd been dreaming about for years. Natalie smiled and stood up. She'd ask one of the interns to collect the instruments still scattered across the floor, then she'd head home and take a nice hot , relaxing bath. Once Nick had had a couple of hours to cool down, she'd head over to the loft to make sure he wasn't going to chicken out. Gathering up her purse and the sack of cookies, Natalie logged off her computer and moved toward the door. And after she talked to Nick, she thought, grinning, she'd go out and buy a dress that would leave him speechless. Just the way she wanted him. ========== Finis Comments, complaints and lavish words of praise to: "Cindy Ingram" ======================================================== My FK fiction page: http://people.mn.mediaone.net/nancykam/cific.html ======================================================== What's another word for thesaurus? ("Say good Knight, Gracie." -- G. Burns)