It’s been a long, long time, but I missed this so much and hope to be a little more active again in the near future. Anyway, this prompt inspired me so much, so have this little fic. I hope you enjoy it!! 💖
prompt: you want to forget me (ti vuoi dimenticare di me)
*
Nicolò feels like throwing up. He wipes his sweaty palms on his trousers for what feels like the hundredth time.
Now. He’s going to ask it now. Okay, now then. On second thought, perhaps in a minute would be better.
Why is this so damn hard?
He knows why, of course. Because he has wrongfully besieged Yusuf’s home and killed him in the most horrifying ways possible. Because he has been a monster and would have to spend all his infinite lifetimes to atone for what he has done before he could ever be forgiven. Because asking Yusuf to stay together even though they have found the two women from their dreams and there is absolutely no sane reason for Yusuf to spend one more heartbeat in Nicolò’s abhorrent presence is the epitome of hubris.
What has possessed him to even consider this plan?
He has come to know Yusuf’s kind heart. His warmth, his ever-smiling eyes. He has mistaken his innate kindness for something else, something impossible. He is a fool for putting so much hope in his delusions.
But it seems he has been a fool all his life. One more day won’t make a difference, will it?
It has to be now. Andromache and Quynh are out on a personal errand for a couple of days, and he doesn’t know if such an opportunity will present itself again in time.
God, this is worse than dying.
He opens his mouth to ask his question, the question, nerves sizzling through his body, but to his surprise, Yusuf speaks first.
“Tomorrow it is, then?” he asks, his eyes fixed on the flames between them. His voice sounds heavy, dragging the evening air down.
For a moment, Nicolò is too confused to speak. “Tomorrow is what?”
“The day we say our goodbyes and go our separate ways.”
The ground tilts beneath Nicolò’s feet. He feels like throwing up again, but for entirely different reasons. This can’t be happening.
But Nicolò knows this is the only possible course of reality. Any other scenario is just a feeble figment of his pathetic imagination. The way Yusuf avoids meeting his gaze only confirms it. That blankness in his usually vibrant eyes is only ever reserved for Nicolò.
It was foolish to think, even for but a second, that he could ever be worthy of forgiveness.
So he swallows the burning tears down and says, “Very well.”
____
Nicolò has always been a light sleeper. So when a twig breaks somewhere to his left, he opens his eyes to see Yusuf slipping away into the night.
Is this how it will be? No goodbye at all? Only waking to an emptiness as consuming as the void sky up above?
No, that can’t be. That isn’t Yusuf at all. There must be a reason for his secret departure. There must be. Maybe Yusuf is in danger. Maybe he has to settle a score with some culprit they dealt with a couple of towns ago.
Without a second thought, Nicolò rises and follows.
After a long while, when the shimmering surface of water emerges in the distance, his heart grows cold.
Quynh has told him stories of the lands they were traveling through. She told him of a hidden pond. If you drink from its waters, it will take away your memories.
He watches when Yusuf reaches the banks. He watches as he kneels and scoops up water in the cup of his palms.
No.
Yusuf jumps up, scimitar drawn.
With a start, Nicolò realizes he said that aloud. He comes out of the shadows and Yusuf’s expression turns into one of incredulity.
“You followed me.” An accusation.
“I’m sorry,” Nicolò says. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t in danger. I didn’t mean to-”
“I’m immortal, it’s a bit difficult for me to get into any serious danger.” Yusuf looks exhausted as he lowers his sword and turns to the pond again. “You can go back to the camp now, I will be there shortly.”
“I don’t think you will, though.” Nicolò’s voice is so soft it’s hardly audible over his hammering heart. “You want to forget me.”
It is only fair. Nicolò knows that. It is only fair Yusuf wants to forget the man who caused him such pain and misery. And if this is what Yusuf wants and what is best for him, then Nicolò will not stand in his way.
“I understand,” Nicolò says. “Please let me help you. Let me stay and guide you back to the camp and make sure you are safe until Andromache and Quynh are there for you. Then I will leave and you’ll never have to see me again. I promise.”
Yusuf’s back is rigid and unmoving.
“For what it’s still worth,” Nicolò continues, “I am sorry for all I have done. I am sorry I have robbed you of your home and your people and your happiness. I am sorry I wasn’t the man I am now. And I am sorry that you had to be the one to make me better. I don’t expect to ever deserve forgiveness, but I don’t intend to stop trying either. I hope it makes you feel a little better that my eternal life will be spent in atonement for what I have done to you. Or at least, that you will feel better for this little while you will remember.”
Ever so slowly, Yusuf turns. Nicolòs eyes widen as he sees the tears on Yusuf’s cheeks, the painful desperation in his eyes.
“You think that’s why- Nicolò, I-” He looks away for a moment and breathes deep. When he meets Nicolò’s eyes again, Nicolò’s breath stills at the rawness on his face. “I want to forget you because I love you.”
All the air is sucked away from the sky.
“I want to forget you because I don’t think I can bear missing you.”
Maybe he’s still asleep. Yes, that must be it. He will probably wake up soon.
“I know it’s selfish,” dream-Yusuf continues. “But I just-” His voice breaks. “I just can’t miss you, Nicolò. I just can’t.”
Any moment now.
“Please say something, Nicolò,” Yusuf says quietly.
“This is all a dream,” is the only thing Nicolò can say, because going along would hurt all the more.
Yusuf blinks and seems taken aback. “I’m sorry I have appalled you. I’ll drink now and then we can each go our-”
“No!” Nicolò hastily puts a step forward. “No, please. That’s not what I meant. I’m a monster and I’ve wronged you in more ways than there are stars in the sky. There’s no way you could ever say such things, because it’s exactly what I long for you to say. No, it’s more than I would ever dare to hope for. So this must all be a dream. There’s no other explanation.”
While Nicolò is rambling, Yusuf comes closer until they stand so close together Nicolò can count all Yusuf’s laughter lines. Nicolò falls silent as a cold, damp hand takes his own. He looks down at their entwined fingers, wide-eyed.
A gentle finger guides his chin up until he meets warm, glowing eyes. “This is not a dream, Nicolò.”
Soft lips touch his own and Nicolò melts.
Yusuf is here, Yusuf is real, and Yusuf loves him back.
NEON!!!! thank you so much for the prompt, i hope you like this silly little thing!! 💕💕
(As per your other ask lmao) Fluff 3 “Have you seen my hoodie?” “Noo.” “You’re wearing it, aren’t you?”
*
Nicky is convinced Nile would be proud that the first thing he thinks upon seeing Joe’s abandoned hoodie on the floor is: ‘It’s free real estate’. And he’s so proud of himself for making her proud that he takes a picture of himself in the hoodie like she has taught him (a ‘selfpic’ or something she called it), and sends it to her with exactly that caption.
As usual, Joe is still sprawled in the bed, lost in the land of dreams. After a fond, lingering look, Nicky slips out of the room.
One coffee and some small chores later, Nicky is snuggled up on the couch, surrounded by Joe’s scent and engrossed in a book. But not so engrossed he doesn’t hear Joe wake up and stumble sleepily through their bedroom. He smiles inwardly, but keeps reading.
“Nicky?” Joe asks after five minutes of rummaging, walking into the living room. “Have you seen my hoodie?”
Nicky doesn’t even look up from his book. “No.”
A pause. Then, “You’re wearing it, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Joe comes to stand right in front of him, tugging on the hood Nicky has pulled over his head.
“This. That’s my hoodie.”
“Well, I found it on the floor, so now it’s mine.” Nicky loves the way the corners of Joe’s mouth twitch in a disbelieving but also very delighted smile. He can tell Joe likes the view.
“Would you let me shiver to death like this?” Joe asks, pulling his mouth into a pout now and rubbing his bare arms for good measure.
“I thought I was the warmth when you shiver in cold, not this hoodie.”
Joe’s eyes turn positively mischievous and suddenly he’s climbing onto Nicky and crawling along into the hoodie.
“Yusuf, love of my life and center of my universe, what in God’s name are you doing?” Nicky asks and can’t help but laugh as Joe squirms on his belly. He can’t get further in than his head, though.
“Reclaiming what’s rightfully mine! And now stop laughing, you’re making it tighter.”
“I can’t help it, it’s your beard. It tickles!”
Nicky can feel Joe grin against his skin and he knows something bad will happen exactly one second before Joe blows a raspberry right above his navel. If it was supposed to stop Nicky’s laughter, then Joe has done a very poor job.
But Joe is laughing as well, and after a soft kiss to Nicky’s skin, he comes out of the hoodie.
“Okay, you can keep the hoodie.” Joe tries to sound irritated but the twinkle in his eyes gives him away. “But under one condition.”
“Anything,” Nicky says, wiping the tears from his eyes in the aftershocks of his laughter.
“You’ll have to hold me every time I get cold.”
“Oh come here you,” Nicky says and pulls Joe into his arms, kissing his laughter onto Joe’s lips.
My dear Simo!!! Thank you so much for the prompt! i only seem to be able to write silly things lately, i hope you enjoy this one!! 💕💕
Random 13. “YOU SAID TO BE HONEST STOP HITTING ME!”
*
Nicky gazes at the stars, lying so close to Joe he can feel his body heat through his clothes. He holds Joe’s hand in his, one fingertip right on his pulse to feel the steady beating of his heart. How many times have they lain like this beneath the night sky? Nicky lost count, but he knows he will never get enough of it. Especially now they made it so comfortable with blankets and pillows and a nice bottle of wine. As always, he searches for an answer in the stars, tries to unravel how they have aligned so perfectly to bring him such happiness, to bring him Joe.
There’s a squeeze in his hand. “Be honest,” Joe says softly, barely above a whisper.
Nicky smiles. A long time ago, when they were only just learning each other’s language and each other’s kindness, there had been moments exactly like this one. Where the dark and quiet night finally allowed them to talk without reproach or accusation or hatred. Where they could finally, step by step, reveal to the other the person beneath the enemy.
“What do you want to know?” Nicky asks, turning his head to Joe. Joe is already looking at him and Nicky can’t help but press a kiss to the tip of his nose.
“A secret.”
“A secret?”
“One you have never told me.”
Nicky fixes his eyes back on the firmament. He hasn’t had a secret for Joe for more than 600 years. Joe knows his very soul, he knows Nicky better than Nicky knows himself.
There is one thing, however… Maybe now is finally the time to tell Joe. Surely, enough time has passed already to bring it up.
“Remember when you used to work as an artist for clerks in our early days?” When Joe makes an affirmative noise, Nicky continues. “You have to know I say this with all the love and fondness in my heart, amore, but your animals were small monstrosities.”
“What?!”
Nicky turns to his side, leaning on his elbow and putting a hand on Joe’s chest. “But you have improved so much, my life. You have worked so hard and now every line you draw is a masterpiece in itself.”
The only answer he gets is a pillow in his face.
“What was that for?” Nicky asks after a shocked second. But apparently, Joe has forgotten all forms of communication except for hitting Nicky with a pillow.
“YOU SAID TO BE HONEST STOP HITTING ME!” Nicky yells, trying to deflect the pillow with his arms.
“You let me show my early works to Michelangelo! Including my monstrosities! And now you’re telling me they are garbage? Why didn’t you stop me?!”
“Okay, one, I didn’t say- will you please stop hitting me! I didn’t say they were garbage. You just needed some more… practice. Like any other person! Two, I talked about it with Michelangelo beforehand and he agreed to not be too harsh on you and to keep in mind the incredible progress you made in what he thought was a very short amount of time.”
“Not too harsh? He said they were ‘clear indications of brilliance’! How did you get him to- oh. Oh.”
Nicky squeezes his eyes shut and braces himself for another volley.
“So you did model for the David in the end.”
“Maybe,” Nicky squeaks.
When no answer or hit of the pillow comes, Nicky peeks at Joe. He is surprised to see relief on his features.
“And there I was thinking I had forgotten the shape of your butt.”
“I’m sorry, amore,” Nicky says and tentatively takes Joe’s hand. “It was very difficult for me to pretend like you were wrong when you recognized it. Though I was more than pleased with your diligent studies afterwards.”
Joe smiles, and the glint in his eyes makes heat rise to Nicky’s cheeks. Joe closes in on Nicky until their faces are mere inches apart.
“Maybe,” he says, pressing a kiss to Nicky’s lips, “I should do some more studies, just to be sure.” Another kiss, to his jawline this time. “So I won’t be wrong again.”
“Maybe you should,” Nicky agrees with a smile and happily lets himself be pushed back onto the pile of pillows.
If you’re still taking prompts and you’re in an angsts mood, could you write something with Joe/Nicky and “Can you shut up for once in your life?”
Hi anon, thank you so much for the prompt! I hope you enjoy this!! 💛
Angst 11. “Can you shut up for once in your life?”
Warning: (canon-typical) violence
*
Sometimes, Yusuf regrets learning Nicolò’s language, because now he can actually understand what he’s saying the whole time. For despite how quiet and shy Nicolò comes off as, he turns out to be annoyingly talkative, practically preaching about the smallest of subjects. And the knowledge that Yusuf can now finally understand him has only seemed to encourage him, much to Yusuf’s frustration.
Only... Yusuf is not entirely honest with himself.
He knows something has changed. He has changed. He doesn’t feel nearly as annoyed as he used to, as he still pretends to be. He finds Nicolò’s voice agreeable, the cadence melodious, sometimes he even gets carried away a little in its gentle swaying, imagining it whispering him to sleep. But it’s not only his voice that Yusuf has begun to appreciate more. He notices a change in Nicolò’s words, a change in how he sees and talks about the world around them. He hears echoes of discussions they had in the past, and is surprised to discover Nicolò has actually listened to him and even changed his own worldview according to his new insights. It sparks something in Yusuf’s chest he isn’t ready yet to explore any further.
Nicolò does not need to know any of this, of course.
One day, they are ambushed in their sleep. Yusuf wakes up to Nicolò yelling his name, already warding off the first attacker that reaches them. He manages to buy Yusuf just enough time to grab his scimitar and jump upright, just in time to parry a blow.
Even though their teamwork has improved greatly since the first time they had to fight together, there are simply too many enemies for them to handle. Yusuf is having trouble defending himself against two of them, unable to make an attack of his own.
“NO!” he hears behind him. Nicolò.
Instinctively, he turns around. Only to see Nicolò lunge himself between him and another attacker who is bringing his mace down to strike Yusuf. It lands on Nicolò’s head instead with a sickening sound and Nicolò collapses.
Yusuf feels like his skin and all his insides are being torn apart. But before he can raise his scimitar to avenge his fallen friend, several stabs in his back take him away from the world.
When he comes back to life -clenching his teeth and breathing hard because it hurts every goddamn time- and opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is Nicolò’s caved in head. His glassy eyes staring into oblivion.
He should have been awake by now.
Yusuf scrambles up, forgetting his own pain, and hangs over Nicolò. He doesn’t even notice the attackers are still in sight, doesn’t even think about chasing them down while he still can.
“Nicolò,” he says, his voice high and panicked. “Nicolò, wake up.”
His hand trembles as it hovers over Nicolò’s face, the horrifying wound that makes Yusuf’s stomach turn. He bites back a cry.
“Wake up, Nicolò. Don’t leave me.” His hands grab onto Nicolò’s shirt now, and shake him as if the shaking will restart his heart somehow. “Don’t leave me, Nicolò. Don’t- don’t-”
He chokes on the words and stops shaking Nicolò, still clutching the fabric of his shirt. “You can’t just leave like this,” he says through gritted teeth. “It’s not fair. It’s not fair after all you’ve done to me. You can’t make me-”
He cannot even finish the sentence out loud.
You can’t make me love you and then leave.
“Come back,” he whispers, hanging his head, his fingers loosening their grip. “Please.”
Yusuf sits there for what feels like an eternity, wondering what kind of twisted joke God and the universe were playing on him, how he could ever move on from this. Then, something beats beneath his hand. It’s weak, barely there at all, but when Yusuf opens his eyes in surprise, he sees Nicolò’s head is healing.
All the breath leaves him so quickly he feels lightheaded. He shivers with relief and tears spring to his eyes now fear slowly releases him from its claws. Nicolò draws his first breath and groans through his agonizing resurrection.
When the pain has subsided, he blinks. “Yusuf,” he says, surprise evident in his voice. Then he shoots upright, looking around. “You let them get away?”
It is not what Yusuf expected Nicolò to say. He tears his eyes from Nicolò and only now does he notice the absolute chaos around them. Their whole camp has been turned upside down. But Yusuf can’t find it in himself to care. He looks back at Nicolò, to make sure he is alive and breathing, to make sure he won’t leave him again.
“You let them take our weapons? Our horses?” Nicolò asks. “How are we going to resupply when we have no money? You should have stopped them, Yusuf. You know I would have been fine. You should have gone after them and-”
“Nicolò,” Yusuf interrupts him, taking a deep breath. “Can you shut up for once in your life?”
Nicolò turns to him and already opens his mouth to answer. To Yusuf’s surprise, nothing comes. For a long time, they sit there in silence, Nicolò’s hand in Yusuf’s. Yusuf keeps his fingertip on Nicolò’s pulse, just to reassure himself Nicolò will always come back to him.
If your still taking prompts!!!! Angst 14 pretty please
Hi!!! Thank you for the prompt, have some early days pining kaysanova!! I hope you like it 💛
Angst 14 “Just get home as soon as possible, okay?!”
*
Nicolò has to deliver a message to an informant. In his ninety-four years on this earth, Yusuf has learned to read the subtle changes in the air. Tonight, a storm will certainly break loose.
He has told Nicolò as much, and very pointedly implied he doesn’t think it’s a good idea for him to be going out tonight. He tries to employ rational arguments but the truth is that he is absolutely terrified something might happen to Nicolò when he isn’t there to protect him.
As always, however, Nicolò has frustratingly sound counterpoints. So Yusuf can’t do anything but give in in the end.
The rain has already started when Nicolò sets out, the clouds heavy and looming and suffocating.
At the door, Yusuf grabs Nicolò’s sleeve. Nicolò turns around, a confused and inquisitive expression on his face.
Yusuf swallows. “Just get home as soon as possible, okay?”
Nicolò’s eyes widen fractionally. When you’re constantly travelling like they are, home is not a place.
Please get back to me.
Nicolò puts his hand over Yusuf’s, squeezing reassuringly. “Always,” he says and then he’s gone.
Yusuf tries to distract himself, there is enough to be done but nothing holds his attention. The wind has picked up, whistling through the cracks in the door and windows, rattling branches against the ramshackle cabin. The rain is hammering on the roof like hail the size of fists. Before long, thunder drowns everything out, accompanied by lightning dancing in the sky.
How long has Nicolò been gone? Shouldn’t he have been back by now? What if he was ambushed? What if he was lost? What if a tree had crashed down on him and he was stuck out there in the middle of the storm?
Before he knows what he is doing, Yusuf is outside, pulling his cloak tighter around himself as the wind and rain whip his face like ice-cold lashings. He knows the route Nicolò has taken and the lightning guides his path through the darkness.
He calls for Nicolò on his way, yelling at the top of his lungs to be heard over the rattling thunder, to prevent the wind from whisking his voice away. He watches for fallen trees as best as he can through the curtain of rain drenching him to the bone.
“Nicolò! Nico-” his voice is cut off by a white-hot pain. Scorching needles piercing him from the outside, from the inside, over and over again. His mind has left him even before his face strikes the earth.
*
He gasps awake, immediately calling for Nicolò. He has to get to him, he has to find him, he has to-
“It’s okay,” a deep voice - the most beautiful sound in all the world - says in his ear. Strong, yet gentle hands push him back down on the bed he’s apparently lying on. They are trembling faintly as they stay there on his chest, Yusuf notices.
Yusuf turns his head to the voice and the look on Nicolò’s face makes his heart clench and his throat tighten.
“It’s okay,” Nicolò repeats, pressing their wet foreheads together, breathing hard. He seems to be talking more to himself than to Yusuf. “I’m here. You’re home.”
Hi Rupali!!! Thank you for the prompt! I struggled a bit with this one, but I hope you like it either way!! 💛
Random 4 “If I die, I’m haunting you first.”
*
Nile is not scared of houses that are rumored to be haunted. She simply has a healthy wariness of anything concerning ghosts and the paranormal, being told one too many ghost stories at too young an age. And discovering she's immortal hasn't really helped, because if immortals exist, who’s to say ghosts don’t?
So when Joe mentions the possible new safe house they will be checking out is said to be haunted, Nile is not exactly thrilled, to say the least.
She tries to hide her discomfort, but when Joe and Booker keep speculating about what might be in there and Andy and Quynh chip in with some of their own, very disturbing experiences, something must be showing on her face, because Nicky gently squeezes her arm.
“No need to worry, they’re only joking,” he says. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”
“Yeah, Nicky’s right,” Joe says. “Though there was this one time when we definitely heard someone flush a toilet even though we were all in the same room.”
“And that time with the drawings on the walls that appeared overnight and disappeared again by morning,” Booker adds.
“Stop it,” Nicky chides them, taking one of Nile’s hands in his to stop her from gripping the armrest of her chair as if her life is depending on it. “We figured those things out eventually, and they were not ghosts.”
Nile feels a little comforted, until her heart goes into cardiac arrest as Nicky continues earnestly, “But I do still wonder who put those fresh tulips on our table in our desert safe house each morning.”
*
After a thorough inspection, the abandoned house is deemed good enough to serve as a new safe house. Nicky and Joe are still out on patrol to check out the perimeter while the rest of them get comfortable.
The inspection has put Nile’s worries to rest, but when she hears a screech coming from upstairs, her heart leaps in her throat. “Shh, be quiet! Quynh!”
Quynh stops shoving the furniture around. “What’s wrong?”
“I think I heard something,” Nile says, staring at the ceiling.
As if on cue, the sound repeats itself, even more shrill than before.
“Probably the plumbing or wood settling in,” Booker shrugs.
“That is not the plumbing!” Nile says.
“We were just messing with you, Nile, there’s no such thing as ghosts. Come, I’ll go with you to take a look.”
The screech sounds again, reminding Nile that the last thing she wants to do is go upstairs and see what is making such a horrifying sound, but she is nothing if not brave.
“If I die, I’m haunting you first.”
“I would be honored.”
A couple of minutes later, Nile is standing in the doorway of the bathroom upstairs as Booker rummages with the pipes beneath the sink.
“That should do it!” he says eventually. They wait for another ten minutes and when there’s no sound but the rain thudding softly against the windows, Booker smiles smugly. “I told you, old plumbing can be a real pain in the ass."
Nile rolls her eyes, but she can’t help but smile in relief. She feels a little stupid for her reaction earlier. “So it seems. Thanks, Booker.”
Booker goes down again, but Nile stays in the bathroom to freshen up a little. When she comes out, a door creaks open further in the hallway. Nile freezes. She can hear Andy, Booker and Quynh talk downstairs.
“Joe? Nicky? Is that you?”
She steps down the hallway, her heart racing like a chased down hare. “Stop messing with me, it’s not funny.”
One of the doors is indeed slightly ajar. She steels herself for one more second, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath before slowly opening the door and glancing inside. From the bed, an old black cat is staring back at her.
“Oh, hello you,” Nile coos, walking over to the cat. She lets him sniff at her hand and before long the cat is pushing his little head against her palm for pets. Nile chuckles. “You scared me, honey.”
She takes the cat in her arms, cuddling him close to her chest and smiles as she hears him purr like a tiny motorboat. There really is no such thing as ghosts and Nile feels ridiculous for ever believing it, even though she didn’t admit it to herself. No, this house only has old plumbing and cats. Nothing to be scared of.
She turns around to go show off her treasure to the others. She screams at the top of her lungs when she sees a dripping wet man outlined in the doorway. In her fright, she throws the cat out of her arms, right onto the man who appears to be no one else than Nicky by the sound of his surprised yelp.
Later, when the scratches on Nicky’s face have healed and everyone has reminded him once again to think of his weird vibes, the jokes about Nile’s fear of ghosts are already starting to get out of hand. Nile laughs loudest of all, though.
The cat is curled up on her lap, grumpily eyeing Nicky once in a while as if he was the one throwing him halfway across the room. They all agree to call him Ghost, and soon, their haunted safe house has become Nile’s favorite.
hello? yes hi 😃 can I have Random prompt #3 for joe x nicky? 💕 (if it inspires you)
HI BRIELLE!!!! I know i said i would get to these tomorrow but i HAD to write this immediately, thank you so much for the prompt and I hope you enjoy this small modern au!! 💛💛
Random 3 “Did you seriously just get your foot stuck in a toilet?” “Maybe.”
*
Maybe Joe should have told Nicky his bowels don’t agree with many food types. Maybe he shouldn’t have eaten as much as he did when he knew that particular combination of ingredients would send him straight to the toilet. But he couldn’t simply decline when 1) Nicky offered to cook for him and when 2) the meal had been the most delicious thing he has ever eaten. (And also 3) he is head over heels in love with Nicky ever since he met him on the plane back from a business trip to Malta.)
Truth be told, he had silently hoped love would cure his sensitive intestines.
It had not unfortunately.
Halfway through the meal, he could feel the cramps start. He’d suffered through, trying to not let it show on his face, but he had to give in eventually and politely excused himself.
He was secretly grateful that Nicky’s toilet was a little ways off from the kitchen.
And he does feel much better now, but the smell is somewhere in the range of pigsty to toxic. Luckily, Joe spots an air freshener (blossom & breeze!) and sprays a generous amount in the tiny room. Still, he wants to be absolutely sure the smell dissipates soon, because the air freshener would give him away as well.
There is a small window, but it’s high in the wall right above the toilet and it’s very difficult to manoeuvre in the room.
“Come on, come on,” he mutters as his reaching fingers can’t grasp the handle by a hair.
He sighs and climbs on the toilet, balancing carefully. He can reach the window easily enough now, but it’s a little stuck. He puts some more force in the pull and after some tactical shaking, the window pops open. But it puts Joe off balance and with a yelp, he slips.
His foot is wet.
Correction: His foot is wet and stuck.
He’s very glad he flushed already.
“No reason to panic, al-Kaysani,” he tells himself. “You just got your foot stuck in the toilet of the man you want to spend the rest of your life with. Everything. Will. Be. Fine.” On the last four words, he attempts to free his foot but it doesn’t work.
He tries harder.
“Joe, everything alright?”
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK.
“Yes, of course!”
“You sure? I heard a yell and some stumbling. Did you hurt yourself?”
“No,” Joe says after a beat.
“But?”
Joe wishes he could fully jump into the toilet and flush himself away.
“Joe?” Nicky asks and Joe is already mourning the loss of the cute way Nicky pronounces his name. “Can I come in?”
“Yes,” he squeaks.
The door opens. For an agonizing eternity, there’s no sound but Joe’s shame ringing in his head.
“Did you seriously just get your foot stuck in the toilet?”
“Maybe.”
And suddenly there are arms around his waist, pulling him backwards against a chest that’s shaking a little from chuckling.
After some attempts and various instances where Joe forcibly has to stop himself from thinking too much about Nicky’s broad hands on his legs and on his waist, his foot is finally freed from its wet prison and they are laughing about it while Nicky is searching for some dry socks for Joe.
Joe is grateful Nicky is too busy rummaging through his drawer to see the blush on his cheeks.
“I’m sorry for ruining our night,” Joe says, hiding his face behind one of his hands.
Nicky hands him the socks, but doesn’t let go when Joe takes them. Instead, he pulls Joe a little closer and looks him right in the eyes with that small smile around his lips that drives Joe a little crazy every time.
“Oh Joe,” Nicky says in that cute way of his. "You could never ruin anything for me.”
Even if Joe would have been able to say anything, he doesn’t get the chance because Nicky cuts him off with a kiss as heavenly as a waft of blossom & breeze in a pigsty.
Hi Hegel! I just wanted to tell you that I had a dream where you were writing a story about Booker getting shitfaced at a sports bar 😂 so yeah
DJDHDJSKS BRIELLE THIS IS THE BEST THING I'VE HEARD IN WEEKS!!! i guess dreams do come true in 2021 👀
*
Usually, everyone (which is to say: the boys) is content to watch soccer matches in the safe houses. Apparently, Booker made sure they all have a TV specifically for this reason. When Italy plays against France, however, they like to make an exception.
Nile learns that those matches are the highlights of their years. And this is all due to the unfathomably complicated and ridiculously large bets that are placed not only on the outcome of the match, but also on the outcome of Nicky's and Booker's legendary drinking competition.
"Wait, why does Booker have to do three shots now?" Nile asks. The sports bar is comfortably crowded and the air is filled with pleasant excitement.
Joe tries to explain it to her through his laughter, never taking his eyes from the screen. Nile doesn't understand a word he's saying, so she just nods as if it's all clear now. Frankly, she never cared much about soccer.
But seeing this spectacle in front of her, she might start to appreciate it.
The game is coming to an end and it's a 1-1 tie. Booker, however, has had to do almost three times more shots than Nicky. He's yelling and cursing at the screen like a sailor, while Nicky's watching the game unfold with a pleasant tipsy smile on his face.
Then the tension in the bar increases, everyone holding their breath and even Nile knows that Italy is going for it in the last minute. One of the players shoots the ball, the goal keeper's fingers graze it, but can't stop it as it gets caught in the net.
The bar explodes in cheers and yelling and groans, everyone jumping to their feet and hugging each other like the men on the field. Nicky and Joe have jumped up as well, hugging and cheering. Booker is staring at the screen in pure, forlorn disbelief.
"Pay up, Joe," Andy says with a smirk.
With feigned reluctance, Joe hands her money and some other things Nile has never seen before.
"You didn't bet on Nicky?" Nile asks.
"I lost a bet some time ago so I couldn't bet on Nicky for the next Italy-France match. Which reminds me you still owe me for that goal in the last minute, Andy."
They settle bets for the next ten minutes, Nile even winning one too, before they all turn to Booker.
"How does it feel, Booker?" Nicky asks with a smug grin.
Instead of answering, Booker downs another shot.
"Four more because Italy won," Andy remarks.
"Putain de merde," Booker curses and quickly does the remaining shots. Then he stands up, swaying on his feet and grabbing the table until his stability has returned. "Fine, fine, I'll strip now if that's what you all wanted."
To everyone's surprise, Booker climbs on the table. They all look at each other, asking what the hell he's talking about.
When it's clear no one has asked him to strip if he lost one bet or another, they all burst out in laughter. Joe gently coaxes Booker, who's fumbling at his belt, from the table.
"It's all good. Let's get you home, big guy," he says.
Booker is too far gone to protest, and they all exit the bar in a glow of euphoria and happiness. And Nile is grateful that, of all people, she can spend her immortality with them.
