I've had this in my mind since before the finale. I liked the idea of Nick giving Cece a pep talk about everything, and Jess overhearing, thus giving her insight into his feelings. But given how things played out, I wanted to write an AU where Cece finds Nick instead of Winston.

Plus, someone on Tumblr wanted Cece/Nick interaction.

"...and all we end up doing is hurting other people." -Cece, re: Table 34.

He sets a beeline for the nearest table, jacket slung over his shoulder as he sighs, ready to nurse a bottle (or three) of beer –– thank God for the open bar.

Because drinking to forget is still his sweet spot.

And then he sees her, sitting at a table, alone, a drink of her own in hand.

She looks up just then and gives him a quick shake of her head and a snort. "How am I not surprised at this?"

He quirks an eyebrow, not exactly sure what she means, but already pulling out the chair beside her to sit.

"Cece," he greets, nodding once.

"So, what happened?" she asks on a short exhale. Her tone isn't particularly accusatory, as he'd expect it would be.

More resigned, as if this is exactly the outcome she was expecting.

Hell, he certainly should have been.

"We called it," he answers simply. "We called it off. And now–," he takes a slightly over-dramatic pause to take a swig of his beer, "I'm here. Drinking. With you."

She rolls her eyes, takes a gulp to match his. "Of course you are."

Okay, that one sounded a little accusatory.

"Because that is what we do," she continues.

"To Table-Thirty-Freaking-Four," the words flying out of her mouth –– bitter and self-deprecating –– as she holds her glass to him in mock cheers.

Ah.

Now he gets what she meant.

It really does figure that this would happen again, that they'd both end up here.

Alone.

"We really are quite the pair, huh?"

She scoffs in response, and swirls her straw around in her drink, absently.

"Yeah, I'll say."

He takes a beat, watching her silently as her eyes stay trained to the bottom of her glass.

"So...you spoke to him?" he finally asks.

"Yeah, I spoke to him, Nick."

"And, uh – how'd that go?"

She blinks back at him with a level glare.

He clears his throat. "Right, okay. Stupid question."

"He ran off," she says. "And I actually don't blame him this time."

"Cece–"

She turns, dropping her drink to the table and giving him a fairly pointed look.

"But, I don't wanna talk about me right now – lets talk about you and my best friend."

He shakes his head. "Yeah. I'd really rather we didn't. So..."

"Well that–," she starts, and he's about to down another sip of his beer when she takes bottle from him and sets it down, "–is too damn bad."

Ugh.

He shrugs, sliding his beer back towards himself. "She's better off."

She let's out a half laugh, titling her head. "Are you actually serious right now?"

His eyes widen, but he stays silent...figures that's probably his safest bet in this moment.

"You really have no idea how crazy that girl is about you, do you?"

Well shit –

"I –"

He could swear he sees her a small smile grace her features before she sighs, taking a beat before meeting his eyes again.

"Did Schmidt tell you why he broke up with me that night?"

"Thought we weren't gonna talk about you?"

"He 'white fanged,' me," she presses on, ignoring his words with a heavy roll of her eyes.

He sputters. "He what now?"

"The book, Nick," she elaborates. "White fang like the book. He 'let me go,' because he thought he wasn't good enough or whatever –"

She stops and gestures her hand as if she's physically trying to get him to follow her train of thought, "––because he thought I would be better off," she ends slowly.

Oh.

"Newsflash," she says, pointing down to her sari, her voice sour, "I'm not."

"Yeah, I'm gonna be honest," he starts, "I really have no idea what to say here."

"Simple. Just say you're not gonna be an idiot and ruin something amazing – her words by the way," she adds, "before it even starts."

"She – she said that?"

Cece just nods.

Oh, God, he really is an idiot.

"I get it, you know," she says, giving him a look of far more understanding than he deserves."Being scared."

He attempts a half-hearted sneer. "Yeah."

She takes a sip of her drink, and then bites her lip before facing him again."Schmidt...he told me loved me after Robbie and I broke up."

Okay, the two of them are not close enough for this.

He shifts uncomfortably and shakes his head. "You really don't have to tell me–"

"Just, shut up and listen, okay?"

Resigned, he just offers her a short nod.

"He told me he was ready to commit and settle down. That he'd even be willing to have kids – told me everything I wanted to hear. Basically everything I said I wanted was suddenly right there in my reach."

He nods again trying to follow. "Okay..."

"And while he was off getting drunk with his boss and former sex partner," she pauses and Nick cringes – Schmidt's as big of an idiot as he is, "I was home. Alone –"

"He is the dumbest–"

"No wait," she interrupts him. "See, I was angry at first. Like, really angry. But then I got all these stupid thoughts in my head – about how different we were, how hard it would be. About whether or not I could actually trust what was happening, that it was real –– and how crushed I would be if I found out it wasn't."

His chest clenches. "So, instead of going for it...," he offers.

"By the time he showed up wasted – I was...relieved," she says, on a hoarse laugh. "Because it gave me an out. It meant I could just cut my losses before I got in any further."

"I guess ya do get it," he mumbles, taking a swig his beer.

"Told ya," she answers, faux cheer, lacing her words. "You and I really are a lot like. It's like we don't trust it when good things happen and so we go and put our guard up – but it doesn't have to be like that."

He mulls her words over, running a hand behind his neck. "So, I'm guessing you think I should–"

"I didn't spill all of that for my health."

He lets out a low laugh. "Okay, okay."

She starts to point a finger at him. "And I swear, if you tell a single soul I told you any of this – they will never find your body."

"Hey, Table 34 cone of confidently," he sing–songs, holding out his bottle in her direction.

She rolls her eyes, but clinks with him anyway. "Table 34."

"Nick–"

"Hmm?"

"What the hell are you still doing here?"

He blinks. "Right. Yeah. I should probably–"

"Go!" she orders, shaking her head. "Get out of here."

Beaming, he nods as he stands to grab his jacket. "Thanks. Really."

"Anytime," she says, waving him off, and turning back to her drink.

"Hey." He turns on his heels and looks back at her. "I really am sorry about you and Schmidt."

She turns her head back to him and shrugs. " Just kinda sucks when things don't turn out the way you'd hoped."

He shakes his head, this moment all too familiar, and flashes her a smile.

"You know – I wouldn't give up just yet."

Thoughts, comments, concerns?