Sticks and Skates [Wayhaught]

Jealousy Is (A Green-Eyed Blonde)

"Nicole Haught, you are the most difficult patient have ever had the displeasure of working with," her PT said as they returned to the therapy room, Nicole practically skipping past the man.

"Oh, Brandon don't go breaking my heart now," She responded dramatically, swinging her legs back and forth as they dangled off of the treatment table.

Nicole wasn't usually one to toot her own horn, but here she was, tooting it anyway.

It wasn't a forgone conclusion that she'd be able to walk normally again, but after getting her head out of her ass and putting her nose to the grindstone, she progressed at what had to be a record pace. Nothing was going to stop her, not her leg, not the stupid stairs and definitely not Brandon the physical therapist.

She'd come a long way since her first session, where the only thing she could focus on was the dread and feeling that she'd never play hockey again. (Well, that and the irony of getting stuck with a therapist named Brandon). Sure, she still had pain after especially long days, but now sixteen weeks later, the limp was becoming less and less noticeable with each passing day.

"No, I mean it, you've aged me. I'm 27 and I've found four grey hairs since I started working with you—one for each month," Brandon continued just as dramatically, holding up four fingers for emphasis. "Or for each time you kicked me."

"Dude, I already apologized for that."

"I know, I know. Now, shut up, I'm trying to be sentimental." Nicole made a zipping motion across her lips, waiting for Brandon to proceed. "Now as I was saying, Nicole Haught, you are the single most difficult, infuriating, stubborn patient I have ever had the displeasure of working with, but you have come so far from day one, that I'm proud to say I was a part of helping you get here. And dare I say, I might actually miss you, Big Red."

"Aww, Mr. Drill Sergeant has a heart after all," she teased.

"Yeah, yeah. Now go on, get out of here to that girl of yours, and I really don't wanna have to see you back here," Brandon pointed a warning finger in her face. "Seriously, Bobo will have my head if you go screwing up all the work he did on that leg. Dude actually compared the work he did on you to Michelangelo sculpting David."

Nicole rolled her eyes because of course the crazy surgeon would.

"Sir, yes sir. Thank you Brandon, seriously."

"Yeah yeah. Go on now." He waved her out, and she walked down the hallway, expecting to see Waverly, but getting Wynonna instead.

She frowned slightly, really looking forward to seeing her girlfriend after completing the last of her post-op physical therapy.

"Wow, don't look so happy to see me, Scherzinger."

"Scherzinger?"

"Scherzinger," Wynonna nodded, but offered little clarification. "As in Nicole Scherzinger. Of the Pussycat Dolls?"

"I know who Nicole Scherzinger is," Nicole said, following Wynonna out of the door and out to the truck. "As far as nicknames go, definitely not one of your best."

Wynonna grumbled a fuck you under her breath as she started up the truck.

"Where's Waverly?"

"She keeps getting more and more work handed to her by Dolls. I really think he's getting close to offering her a real job in the organization."

"He better," Nicole agreed, "she's basically doing his job for him at this point."

Since the first set of errands Waverly had run with Dolls back in July, she'd increasingly been handed more responsibilities outside of rink operations. By mid-August, she'd known more of the ins and outs of the team than Nicole did; now in October with the season set to kick off in three days, Waverly was busier than ever.