[ 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. ]
[ joe explodes into laughter, joyous and delighted, and nicky's heart swells in his chest. joe's happiness will always, always trigger nicky's own and so by the time joe leans in, hand on his neck to pull him closer like nicky is not already swaying toward him, nicky is smiling. it makes the kiss a little awkward at first, but he does not mind that —and the smile gives way to parting his lips to let joe lick into his mouth soon enough, instinctive and easy.
[ joe is more than happy to chase the taste of nicky, sighing as his tongue finds the warmth of his mouth, mind going blissfully blank to anything past his nicolò.
a park bench is probably not the best place for this but joe makes no move to stop. instead he releases nicky's hand only to press his hand against the back of nicky's thigh and haul him directly onto joe's lap. it is a little sloppy, lacking the finesse of years past, and is punctuated by another laugh, softer this time, when nicky's thighs settle on either side of his own. ]
My heart.
[ that is all, that is it.
nothing more to add before joe's hands lift to cradle nicky's face and kiss him once more, breathing him in like he is the oxygen joe needs to survive. ]
[ a park bench is not the best place for this, but it is also far from the worst. joe pulls him into his lap and nicky moves willingly, lets himself be moved, letting the kiss drown out a noise that is halfway between amusement and arousal. like this, it is easy to curl his arms around joe's neck, to lean in and kiss joe again and then again until he becomes hyperaware of sensitivity around his mouth, on his chin, where joe's beard meets his skin. ]
Mh. [ that is confirmation as much as it is simply a hum of pleasure. ]
Rohi, [ he says in arabic, my soul, and means the same thing with it joe does. ]
[ joe draws back the tiniest bit, thumb brushing across the pale redness touching nicky's skin. it is fascinating, the way it doesn't immediately fade back to the moonlight-golden skin he is so enamored with, and joe presses a very gentle kiss to the corner of nicky's mouth.
it it were less heated, if it didn't start joe kissing down his neck, that tiny kiss would feel like an apology for the inevitable beard burn. ]
Blue is your color but you do look lovely in pink.
[ perhaps that kiss is or could be an apology for the inevitable beard burn —but nicky does not want one. he wants this, wants the physical reminder and proof of joe's touch and proximity, an x on the map that is his body: joe was here. (and here, and here, and here.)
he wants that and so he tips his head back and to the side, baring himself to joe, fingers digging into joe's shoulders. ]
[ warm kisses hopefully sooth the friction of his beard as joe leisurely reacquaints himself with the taste of nicky's skin under his tongue. after a millennia, one would think he'd have had his fill of nicky but he never grows tired of the familiar scent and taste. he wonders sometimes if they are reborn with virgin skin, what else could explain the shiver of excitement every time this man touches him.
he mouths along the curve of nicky's throat, a gentle bite as he worries the skin between his teeth, soothing over it immediately with his tongue. the worry that he could hurt nicky is non-existent, even now, but it is habit all the same.
drawing back slightly, his fingers brush over the spot with idle wonder. it would have faded by now, instead the red mark remains and for the first time in forever, nicolò bears the mark of joe's love for all to see. ]
[ nicky cannot see his own neck, cannot see the mark that joe leaves there —but the look of wonder and the tone of joe's voice tells him all that he needs to know, all the same, fanning the flame that always burns within him. ]
I am going to get carried away, [ joe admits, muffled from the way he buries his face against nicky's neck again, fingers tightening against nicky's thighs. maybe won't get carried away with hickies, but the idea of a lasting mark as proof of their love is ...heady. he always feels drunk on nicky but this is a new kind of intoxicating. ]
We should move before I get us arrested for public indecency.
[ a laugh huffed against nicky's neck, breath warm. ] Again.
[ for a moment, nicky thinks of disregarding that remark, of rolling his hips against joe's and tempting joe into getting carried away. they have been arrested for public indecency before and there is a chance they will be again; it would not be so bad so long as they are together.
but perhaps not right at the start of their time here. perhaps he would prefer to have joe leave marks all over his body, to spread joe out on a bed and do the same.
he clears his throat. ]
Let's go.
[ and still, he leans in for one more kiss before scrambling from joe's lap. ]
[ nicky moves away, because one of them has a sliver of self-control, and joe feels bereft at the loss of the warmth and weight of nicky in his lap. for a moment he look utterly bemused as if he doesn't know what to do with himself, hands fluttering idly before they settle on his own thighs and he pushes himself off the bench.
he puffs out a breath, stooping to grab the football before the haze of desire completely overtakes his mind. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ as much as he likes nicky being in his head, he likes it better when nicky is in his arms. ]
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[ nicky likes it better, too. and he's glad joe asked. ]
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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. ]
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(will there ever be a time when nicky does not find himself drawn to joe? he does not think so.) ]
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I don't like being angry.
[ it is a reflex sometimes, protective and distancing, but he isn't suited for it. ]
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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. ]
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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.
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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. ]
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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. ]
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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. ]
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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. ]
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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.
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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. ]
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[ 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.
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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. ]
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he is very willing to be persuaded. ]
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a park bench is probably not the best place for this but joe makes no move to stop. instead he releases nicky's hand only to press his hand against the back of nicky's thigh and haul him directly onto joe's lap. it is a little sloppy, lacking the finesse of years past, and is punctuated by another laugh, softer this time, when nicky's thighs settle on either side of his own. ]
My heart.
[ that is all, that is it.
nothing more to add before joe's hands lift to cradle nicky's face and kiss him once more, breathing him in like he is the oxygen joe needs to survive. ]
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Mh. [ that is confirmation as much as it is simply a hum of pleasure. ]
Rohi, [ he says in arabic, my soul, and means the same thing with it joe does. ]
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it it were less heated, if it didn't start joe kissing down his neck, that tiny kiss would feel like an apology for the inevitable beard burn. ]
Blue is your color but you do look lovely in pink.
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he wants that and so he tips his head back and to the side, baring himself to joe, fingers digging into joe's shoulders. ]
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he mouths along the curve of nicky's throat, a gentle bite as he worries the skin between his teeth, soothing over it immediately with his tongue. the worry that he could hurt nicky is non-existent, even now, but it is habit all the same.
drawing back slightly, his fingers brush over the spot with idle wonder. it would have faded by now, instead the red mark remains and for the first time in forever, nicolò bears the mark of joe's love for all to see. ]
Il mio.
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Always.
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We should move before I get us arrested for public indecency.
[ a laugh huffed against nicky's neck, breath warm. ] Again.
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but perhaps not right at the start of their time here. perhaps he would prefer to have joe leave marks all over his body, to spread joe out on a bed and do the same.
he clears his throat. ]
Let's go.
[ and still, he leans in for one more kiss before scrambling from joe's lap. ]
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he puffs out a breath, stooping to grab the football before the haze of desire completely overtakes his mind. ]
Right. Lead the way, my heart.
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