[ to figure it out. to let his emotions settle, to find his equilibrium again. he doesn't like who he is with anger seething under his skin, in his chest, with hurt and betrayal and resentment a heavy weight in his stomach. he doesn't like it, but he cannot change what he feels now. ]
[ he loves andy and nile but he will absolutely fuck off to malta (probably not malta) to give nicky time. joe needs time too, but he takes some small, bitter satisfaction that booker has to look upon the love he would have let die for his own gain. it is not a kind thought but sometimes joe thinks he lacks the energy to be a kind man. ]
[ joe just told him that what he wants is nicky and their family.
nicky is not going to take that from him if it isn't absolutely necessary. (he doesn't want to leave andy or nile, either. he just doesn't want to feel this way.) ]
Maybe a second place, for us. For space if we need it?
[ it feels a little like hiding and the idea of it curdles in his stomach, especially after glimmer and ellie were so enamoured with their effusive love, but maybe it is a middle ground they can live with. ]
[ shout out to the youths because now joe can drop a pin exactly where he wants to meet: a little bench tucked within a copse of trees, many carved with initials of the couples that have been here before. it is nice to know that some things will never change.
it isn't the warm salty sea that connected both of their homelands, but it is water and joe loves the water, even if the river is man made.
that is where nicky will find him, sat on the bench with a single football in his lap — not the hideous patterned one, but one that looks like a hand-me-down, used, a lot scuffed up but well loved. ]
[ it is useful, this technology. it is useful and because of it, nicky knows just where to find joe. it does not take him long, either, until he sinks onto the bench next to joe, glancing at the football in his lap briefly but lingering on his face.
(will there ever be a time when nicky does not find himself drawn to joe? he does not think so.) ]
[ he sets the ball aside, tucking it under the bench so it won't roll into the river. he can feel nicky's eyes on him and joe doesn't usually hide from his partner's gaze but he is doing exactly that. he feels such sorrow and it is hard sometimes, even for him, to feel like he is not burdening nicky with that. ]
I don't like being angry.
[ it is a reflex sometimes, protective and distancing, but he isn't suited for it. ]
[ nicky lets out a sigh that is barely more than an exhale, breath escaping his lungs. he reaches out to take joe's hand, fingers intertwining. it will make them glow, of course, but nicky does not mind it. ]
No. [ he knows this about joe. he knows it about himself, too. ] I do not like it, either.
[ but ] We feel what we feel. [ there is no use pretending otherwise, pushing it down and letting it fester. this, nicky knows. ]
[ joe really likes this empathy bond. they've known each other so long it isn't hard to guess what the other is feeling — nicky knows all of his moods and what gets under his skin, what will make a normally soft man into all sharp, brittle edges — but there is something so intimate about truly feeling it. after a thousand years falling in love with the depth of this man's quiet emotions, yusuf would happily drown in the ocean of them all. ]
You're right. [ of course he is right. they feel what they feel, they grow, they change, they move on. ]
It feels like we shouldn't. [ a beat, free hand lifting in an expansive, dismissive gesture as he meets nicky's eyes. no one has made him feel like his emotions are Too Much except circumstance. ] My own doing, not anyone else's.
[ nicky likes it, too. likes that he can show joe what he cannot put in words, that he does not have to guess at joe's feelings, no matter how adept he may have gotten at it over the years and centuries, no matter how well they know each other.
he likes feeling joe. it starts and ends with that. ]
You know, [ it starts slow, not halting so much as considered, each word measured. ] I feel it, too. Anger and resentment and hurt and confusion. [ it's all there, beneath the surface.
another beat. ]
You would not tell me that I shouldn't feel it. [ not a question; he is certain of that. and if joe would not deny him the validity of his emotions, he should not deny it himself, either.
but of course, that is easier said than felt. and so nicky does not say it. he only squeezes joe's hand and doesn't let go. ]
[ nicky has always been slow to speak, quick to act, but joe doesn't interrupt — he hates when other people interrupt, interpreting pauses for the end of thoughts and leaping to add their own. it isn't patience on joe's part that stills his tongue until nicky is finished it is the simple fact that he wants to know what nicky is thinking more than anything. ]
Andy wants to help him but I... [ he licks his lips, clutching nicky's hand like a lifeline. ] Nicolò, I can't.
[ his eyes are pleading, desperate for nicky to tell him that he isn't a bad person for not being able to move past what happened immediately.
maybe it would be different if they weren't tortured. maybe it would be different if nicky weren't tortured. but joe had watched him die over and over, watched that doctor carve pieces of him away with unrestrained fascination while joe bit his tongue to keep from begging for her to stop. he'd watched the blood pooling around nicky's head like a macabre halo, still for so long that joe could feel the scream clawing up his throat.
maybe it would be different if their love hadn't been made a justification for booker's betrayal. ]
No. I don't think I can, either. [ it is as he said to booker: booker has lost his trust.
joe clutches at his hand and pleads for understanding and forgiveness of an imagined crime and nicky wants nothing more than to take all that pain from joe and make it disappear, to bring him peace, any measure of peace, even if nicky is not feeling particularly peaceful himself right now.
later, he will reason that it is that desire that sparked this. later, he will understand that it is his power. right now, there is only a wash of calm, inexplicable but welcome, that washes over him, over joe. ]
[ it is lonely feeling like the only person affected this way but of course nicky would be in the same boat. of course nicky.
the feeling of calm washes over him like he is given permission to have these feelings, comforting and warm. andy had said that exactly, but nicky has always been able to cut down joe's defenses and get to the heart of the matter. he doesn't have to change himself or feel less. ]
I am sorry I punched him, [ joe admits after a moment. ] It was bad form, my hand still hurts in the mornings.
[ they are allowed their feelings; it is what action follows from them that matters. nicky has known this for centuries now, but knowledge does not always translate into emotion. ]
He deserved it. [ nicky shrugs a little, turning his head to look at joe, to take in every beloved curve of his face, the warmth of his eyes. ]
I did not punch him, even though he offered. I think it would have been better if I could have. [ if punching could have alleviated some of the anger, some of the hurt in his chest, let out some of the emotion he feels. felt; he is calmer now. not removed from his feelings, but able to take a step back.
after a pause during which he rubs his thumb over joe's knuckles: ]
It will take some getting used to the vulnerability. For all of us, now.
You would not have felt better, [ joe thinks. the solace of violence was fleeting and left nothing but a cold ache and raw, exposed emotions. he wouldn't change what he did, but he would prefer nicky not feel any more pain at booker's feet.
an impossible hope and yet one joe has all the same. ]
There are some good things to mortality.
[ they are together for one and joe has always wished that when their time did come it wouldn't be in the heat of battle but in something much more mundane, so they would have more time. to linger, to discover, to finally grow old together. it doesn't feel like their time now, this feels inauthentic, but nicky is still with him and they still have time.
he lifts their clasped hands, rubbing his beard across the back of nicky's pale hand and watching the pinkness bloom. it doesn't immediately fade away and joe's eyes sparkle. ]
No. I don't think I would have. [ nicky is silent for a moment. ] If I had thought that it would help, I would have punched him.
[ he is not a pacifist as such.
but those thoughts are blown away, eradicated from his mind when joe lifts their hands, rubbing his beard across the back of nicky's hand and leaving some hint of a mark, a hint of beard burn, his eyes sparkling.
they have been together for nearly a millenium. they have tried so many things and joe is so familiar to him and yet, yet even just the sparkle in his eyes and the suggestion of marking him have nicky's stomach swooping, some blood rushing south.
[ joe seems to explode with a laugh, the buoyant sound loud and clear and utterly delighted. he grins at nicky, happiness burning away the lingering grief for the moment. ]
Willing to be persuaded!
[ undeterred – in fact very willing and happy to persuade – joe ducks toward nicky, hand curving around the back of his neck to pull him forward to crash their mouths together. this is a much better use of their time than being angry and there is nothing joe loves more than kissing nicky, a taste more familiar to him than the feel of his own breathing.
willing to be persuaded... he loves this man so much. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
no subject
[ and again, it is not the time or the place; it is something he should not bring up when he cannot see joe's face, but - ]
What about Booker?
no subject
She wants him with us.
no subject
he wishes it would. ]
I don't know how I feel about him now.
no subject
[ they've barely had any time to sit with it before suddenly they were here and booker was back in their lives. ]
no subject
[ to figure it out. to let his emotions settle, to find his equilibrium again. he doesn't like who he is with anger seething under his skin, in his chest, with hurt and betrayal and resentment a heavy weight in his stomach. he doesn't like it, but he cannot change what he feels now. ]
no subject
[ he loves andy and nile but he will absolutely fuck off to malta (probably not malta) to give nicky time. joe needs time too, but he takes some small, bitter satisfaction that booker has to look upon the love he would have let die for his own gain. it is not a kind thought but sometimes joe thinks he lacks the energy to be a kind man. ]
no subject
nicky is not going to take that from him if it isn't absolutely necessary. (he doesn't want to leave andy or nile, either. he just doesn't want to feel this way.) ]
If it is too much.
no subject
[ it feels a little like hiding and the idea of it curdles in his stomach, especially after glimmer and ellie were so enamoured with their effusive love, but maybe it is a middle ground they can live with. ]
no subject
[ it won't be the first time, nicky thinks, that circumstances are less than ideal, that there are things that sit heavily on his chest.
so long as he is with joe, he can face it. ]
And then we will see. Yes?
no subject
[ as much as he likes nicky being in his head, he likes it better when nicky is in his arms. ]
no subject
[ nicky likes it better, too. and he's glad joe asked. ]
no subject
it isn't the warm salty sea that connected both of their homelands, but it is water and joe loves the water, even if the river is man made.
that is where nicky will find him, sat on the bench with a single football in his lap — not the hideous patterned one, but one that looks like a hand-me-down, used, a lot scuffed up but well loved. ]
no subject
(will there ever be a time when nicky does not find himself drawn to joe? he does not think so.) ]
no subject
I don't like being angry.
[ it is a reflex sometimes, protective and distancing, but he isn't suited for it. ]
no subject
No. [ he knows this about joe. he knows it about himself, too. ] I do not like it, either.
[ but ] We feel what we feel. [ there is no use pretending otherwise, pushing it down and letting it fester. this, nicky knows. ]
no subject
You're right. [ of course he is right. they feel what they feel, they grow, they change, they move on. ]
It feels like we shouldn't. [ a beat, free hand lifting in an expansive, dismissive gesture as he meets nicky's eyes. no one has made him feel like his emotions are Too Much except circumstance. ] My own doing, not anyone else's.
no subject
he likes feeling joe. it starts and ends with that. ]
You know, [ it starts slow, not halting so much as considered, each word measured. ] I feel it, too. Anger and resentment and hurt and confusion. [ it's all there, beneath the surface.
another beat. ]
You would not tell me that I shouldn't feel it. [ not a question; he is certain of that. and if joe would not deny him the validity of his emotions, he should not deny it himself, either.
but of course, that is easier said than felt. and so nicky does not say it. he only squeezes joe's hand and doesn't let go. ]
no subject
Andy wants to help him but I... [ he licks his lips, clutching nicky's hand like a lifeline. ] Nicolò, I can't.
[ his eyes are pleading, desperate for nicky to tell him that he isn't a bad person for not being able to move past what happened immediately.
maybe it would be different if they weren't tortured. maybe it would be different if nicky weren't tortured. but joe had watched him die over and over, watched that doctor carve pieces of him away with unrestrained fascination while joe bit his tongue to keep from begging for her to stop. he'd watched the blood pooling around nicky's head like a macabre halo, still for so long that joe could feel the scream clawing up his throat.
maybe it would be different if their love hadn't been made a justification for booker's betrayal. ]
no subject
joe clutches at his hand and pleads for understanding and forgiveness of an imagined crime and nicky wants nothing more than to take all that pain from joe and make it disappear, to bring him peace, any measure of peace, even if nicky is not feeling particularly peaceful himself right now.
later, he will reason that it is that desire that sparked this. later, he will understand that it is his power. right now, there is only a wash of calm, inexplicable but welcome, that washes over him, over joe. ]
no subject
the feeling of calm washes over him like he is given permission to have these feelings, comforting and warm. andy had said that exactly, but nicky has always been able to cut down joe's defenses and get to the heart of the matter. he doesn't have to change himself or feel less. ]
I am sorry I punched him, [ joe admits after a moment. ] It was bad form, my hand still hurts in the mornings.
[ calm but make it cheeky. ]
no subject
He deserved it. [ nicky shrugs a little, turning his head to look at joe, to take in every beloved curve of his face, the warmth of his eyes. ]
I did not punch him, even though he offered. I think it would have been better if I could have. [ if punching could have alleviated some of the anger, some of the hurt in his chest, let out some of the emotion he feels. felt; he is calmer now. not removed from his feelings, but able to take a step back.
after a pause during which he rubs his thumb over joe's knuckles: ]
It will take some getting used to the vulnerability. For all of us, now.
no subject
an impossible hope and yet one joe has all the same. ]
There are some good things to mortality.
[ they are together for one and joe has always wished that when their time did come it wouldn't be in the heat of battle but in something much more mundane, so they would have more time. to linger, to discover, to finally grow old together. it doesn't feel like their time now, this feels inauthentic, but nicky is still with him and they still have time.
he lifts their clasped hands, rubbing his beard across the back of nicky's pale hand and watching the pinkness bloom. it doesn't immediately fade away and joe's eyes sparkle. ]
no subject
[ he is not a pacifist as such.
but those thoughts are blown away, eradicated from his mind when joe lifts their hands, rubbing his beard across the back of nicky's hand and leaving some hint of a mark, a hint of beard burn, his eyes sparkling.
they have been together for nearly a millenium. they have tried so many things and joe is so familiar to him and yet, yet even just the sparkle in his eyes and the suggestion of marking him have nicky's stomach swooping, some blood rushing south.
he swallows, mouth suddenly dry. ]
Perhaps. I am willing to be persuaded.
no subject
Willing to be persuaded!
[ undeterred – in fact very willing and happy to persuade – joe ducks toward nicky, hand curving around the back of his neck to pull him forward to crash their mouths together. this is a much better use of their time than being angry and there is nothing joe loves more than kissing nicky, a taste more familiar to him than the feel of his own breathing.
willing to be persuaded... he loves this man so much. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)