Chapter Text
“What the hell happened to you?” Juno nearly gasped upon sight of Nureyev, half-coated in dust and looking the closest to ruffled Juno had ever seen him. His glasses fell askew and something that might have been coffee was drying in his hair as he shot his companion a pointed look.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You sure?” Juno pressed nonetheless.
“I got hit with a table.”
“Jesus, are you alright?”
“I am. The table, on the other hand, wasn’t so lucky.”
Juno swallowed. “Is that coffee in your hair?”
“Yes,” Nureyev hissed, his back colliding with the wall beside Juno as he took a deep breath. “In case you were wondering, all the monitors were destroyed.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Juno snorted.
“I’ll have to tell you about it once I’ve recovered some of my dignity,” Peter returned, the corner of his mouth twitching.
It was one of those moments Juno wouldn’t have ever seen from Rex Glass, Duke Rose, or now, Dimitri Noble. Every alias smiled boldly, wearing the confidence of a king and the seeming invincibility of a god like it was a coat. Only Peter Nureyev existed in shades and half-smiles. From the intimacy of it all, Juno wished he could kiss that look off his face right then and there.
There was work to do, however.
“Hey,” he said instead, and offered Nureyev his hand. Peter gave it a little squeeze. “Did something happen?”
“I love you,” Nureyev returned, utterly unprompted.
“Are you okay?” Juno asked. The timing of the heist felt like a physical weight upon his shoulders, but for the first time in years, Nureyev had allowed himself to look truly bad. That wasn’t something he intended on brushing off.
His shirt, so carefully arranged that morning, was wrinkled and bared half open, revealing a red mark on his breastbone that was already beginning to bloom into a bruise. Nureyev’s gaze was fixed on a blank spot on the floor as his chest heaved, as if all the air had recently been punched out of it. Juno assumed that was the table’s work.
“I’m fine. Nothing horrible happened, at least not to me. I can’t say the same for the wreckage of the security system, but that’s not really my burden to bear,” Nureyev reassured him. “Why?”
“You looked upset,” Juno pressed.
“This has all become a lot more difficult since you and I have been a pair, that’s all.”
Nureyev looked up to meet Juno’s eye. He felt himself soften a bit at the sight of his face, though he scoured it for any grave expression nonetheless.
“Did something happen that you weren’t comfortable with?”
“No,” Nureyev sighed. “I suppose that’s the problem. It would have been much cleaner if I had allowed him to so much as kiss me.”
“Honey, we’ve talked about this. I don’t care if it’s for work,” Juno smiled, relief sagging from his shoulders.
“I don’t mind either—frankly, you’re quite the spectacle when flirting for a mission,” Peter cut himself off to chuckle. “It was just a good bit harder than usual, so I let myself get sloppy.”
“Yeah, I put that much together.”
Nureyev raised an eyebrow.
“Beg pardon?”
“If it had gone well, you wouldn’t look like—”
“As if I had just been hit by a table?”
“Well—yeah.”
“The show must go wrong, my love,” Peter laughed, giving Juno’s hand another squeeze before returning it to his side. “Besides, he wasn’t my type anyway.”
“I really wish you’d been assigned anywhere other than the theatre department,” Juno groaned.
“Speaking of which, while I’m still catching my breath, would you like to explain to me where exactly the computer is?”
Juno’s face fell.
“You know how the principal was supposed to leave early today for his kid’s dance recital? Well, if I’m putting two and two together with Vespa’s intel, he’s got a hot date with the president of the PTA after this and he doesn’t plan on leaving his office any time soon,” Juno explained. Nureyev’s brow drew tight in focus.
“We likely don’t have much time until someone on staff finds out about the security system. I doubt that would make a suitable distraction, as you and I would fall under immediate suspicion,” Nureyev thought aloud. “Myself especially.”
“Shit,” Juno breathed.
“Shit, indeed.”
Juno braced himself as he raised a hand to his comms.
“Bad news,” he started.
“What the hell did you—shut up, Brenda, it’s my mom!” Vespa called from the other end.
“Looks like our pal Mister Cetus decided not to go to his kid’s recital after all. He’s still in the office, and we’ve only got a few minutes until they find out about the security system.”
“Did dad bust his goddamn hip again?” Vespa groaned, then continued in a hushed tone. “Get him out of the office yourself, Steel. I’m in a meeting.”
“How much can they hear on the other end?”
“Well, they wouldn’t be able to hear anything if Deb over here could keep her nose out of other people’s medical crises!”
“Bless your heart,” someone Juno assumed to be Deb muttered.
“I don’t know what you expect me to do, mom,” Vespa pressed forward, spitting the title as if it burned her mouth to hold it there for any longer than she had to. “Come over there and fix the hip myself?”
“You are a doctor,” Nureyev interjected.
“Keep dad off the phone, I can’t handle both of you right now.”
“My apologies, dearest.”
Vespa made a noise like she was swallowing vomit. Juno couldn’t blame her.
“Just curious, but how much hell would you have to raise for the guy to hear it from his office?” Juno pressed forward, trying to keep the smile out of his voice at Nureyev’s repressed chuckle.
“Not much. It’s across the hall. What are you getting at?”
“Do you think he might leave his office if he heard this Karen lady blow up?” Juno continued, feeling the corner of his lip tug.
“Kathy,” Vespa corrected.
“Right. Still—“
“Funny how some people think every conversation is about them, huh?” Vespa added, a little louder than was necessary.
“Yeah, weird. Think you can raise enough hell to get the principal out of his office for a little while?”
Vespa didn’t answer, at least not directly.
“Hey, Kathy, did your colorist kick the bucket or do your roots always look like an accident? Speaking of which, how’s your fifth kid? Apparently he’s the spitting image of your boss!”
Juno took that as a yes and hung up before he choked to death on his own laughter. Nureyev was turning a shade of red Juno had never seen before, fanning himself and clearing his throat.
“I suppose that’s our cue to begin,” Nureyev managed. Juno wheezed. “Shh, darling, reschedule your asthma attack for a later date. I think I might die if I don’t hear this in person.”
Juno did his best to pretend that even after all this time, his heart didn’t leap when Nureyev took him by the hand and took off down the hall, just under a jog. With his height, Juno was running to keep up.
“Dammit, Nureyev, I’m in heels,” Juno hissed.
“As am I.”
“You’re the worst.”
“I pride myself on that.”
Though the office was a few halls away, Juno heard the commotion long before he saw it.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve talking to me like that for someone whose nails look like they were done during an earthquake!”
“Young lady, you take that back—“
“Get your flat ass over here. We’re taking this outside.”
The pair sped around the corner, only coming to a stop outside the office for Juno to bend double and catch his breath.
“Good lord,” Nureyev laughed. Juno snorted.
“You knock. I’ll look distraught and sneak in.”
Nureyev’s hand left Juno’s if only to pound his fist on the door of the principal’s office.
“Sir, it seems there’s a minor crisis—” he started, cut off as the door swung open.
“You wanna start by explaining why you look like you just got hit by a table?” Cetus snapped, giving Nureyev a once-over.
“Well, you see, that is quite the funny story, because—“
“We all know good and goddamn well you didn’t win that election! Did you fuck the entire board, or just the principal?” Vespa’s voice rang out from the other side of the hall. Mister Cetus’s face darkened.
“I’ll handle it.”
“Vespa, get out of there. Take a vent or a window or whatever, I don’t care, just run. Ransom and I’ll catch up to you,” Juno hissed.
“Dueling isn’t illegal on this asteroid, you know! If you wanna go, I’ll go! Pistols at dawn, bitchboy!” she finished. “On it. Sikuliaq’s got the car two blocks away. I’ll tell you if we move it.”
“Great,” Juno returned, and hung up.
“You take the computer itself. I’ll take the monitor,” Nureyev murmured, already shedding his coat to contain the bulky piece of plastic. “Good lord, it must have been hundreds of years since this institution changed its technology. I conquered most of the security system with my elbow and a cup of coffee, and now this.”
“Yep,” Juno groaned under the weight of the rectangular object he could only assume to be technology of some sort. “It’s a lot heavier than what we’ve got back home.”
“You’ve thrown me over your shoulder like a house fire victim, Juno. This shouldn’t be an issue,” Nureyev teased, bending over to assist with the cords.
“Are you still mad about that?”
“When I moved into your quarters permanently, I was expecting to be carried over the threshold like a bride, not a sack of potatoes,” Nureyev grumbled.
“Love you too,” Juno snorted. He tucked the console under his arm with the help of a knee that was definitely going to bruise tomorrow. When the console was secured, he offered Nureyev a hand up. “How ‘bout an olive branch?”
“You might have earned peace, but not forgiveness, you brute,” Peter joked.
Juno’s witty remark was shattered by the sound of a breaking window one room over.
“Kiss my ass, Kathy! Linda, tell the kids I say hi!” Vespa cackled, voice growing quieter and quieter as she escaped. Anything else she might have said was covered by the sounds of shoved desks and chairs and the general chaos left in her wake.
“I think that’s our cue to get the hell out of here,” Juno said.
He had entirely forgotten his hand was still outstretched until it suddenly bore Nureyev’s weight. He made an attempt to tear it away with a yelp of surprise, jumping at the touch as much as the bang of Peter’s head colliding with the underside of the principal’s desk.
“Shit, are you okay?” he gasped, laughing breathlessly as Nureyev got to his feet and fixed him with a pointed glare.
“We should leave.”
“Yeah, I’m right with you there,” Juno snorted once he saw Peter’s face lighten into a half-smile.
“Agreed. I’ve had enough of tables for a lifetime.”