Chapter Text
Joe dies in a hospital bed.
Of all the crazy, unexpected things that have happened in his life, it’s weird in and of itself that dying in a hospital is one of the weirdest.
He stares down at his body despairingly. Dammit, he really wanted to have some more time with…
Nicky is led in, and Joe tenses. “No, wait-”
But the doctor can’t hear him. Nicky can’t hear him, and Nicky is shaking his body and crying and begging and oh god, Joe is hurting him.
He reaches out on instinct, only to have his hand go through Nicky’s shoulder.
“Oh no,” Joe shakes his head, “Oh Nicky-”
Nicky starts to wail in his grief, and Joe’s heart shatters.
There’s a white light hovering at the edges of Joe’s vision, and he staunchly ignores it.
He’s staying right fucking here. Even if it means that Nicky hasn’t stopped crying for two days and Joe just has to sit here and watch.
His family scatters his ashes outside of Tunis, as close as Joe could figure to where he grew up. Nicky cries and cries and cries and all Joe can do is stand there and beg him to breathe.
He tries to kiss Nicky’s face- and the wind whips through his hair.
Nicky’s cries stutter and pause for the briefest of moments, and Joe smiles for the first time in weeks. He kisses him again and again, trying to tell him I’m here, I’m here, I’ll never leave.
The next few months are… hard. Really hard. Nicky wears mourner’s black and cries and stays in bed, and Joe just sits there, answers Nicky’s pleas, and begs him to take a shower.
Seriously. He smells.
Nicky also takes to standing in rainstorms. Joe remembers the first time he and Nicky got caught in the rain together after wandering through the desert, the way Joe had laughed with joy and Nicky had stared at him like he hung the moon.
Nicky stands in the rain and starts mumbling to Joe, and Joe laughs all over again.
Nicky slowly coaxes Joe’s tomato plants back from the brink.
“Planting seeds in a garden you never get to see, huh? Lin Manuel eat your heart out.” Joe jokes, and he wishes Nicky would smile for him. He’s taken to playing Nile’s Spotify playlists, and Joe enjoys them.
He settles into a routine, curling into bed behind Nicky each night and clinging to him as if he were real. He gets better at manipulating the world around him. Occasionally he can brush Nicky’s hair out of his eyes- he’s let it grow long, facial hair shaggy.
Nicky talks to Joe, occasionally. He cries out for Joe in his sleep.
Joe wishes he could give Nicky better dreams. He cries over him sometimes, longs for the feeling of his beloved’s hands wiping away his tears.
They were supposed to grow old together. Now they are- in the worst possible way.
Nicky invites the family over. It’s nice to see them all, but Joe literally could not care less.
Nicky takes a shower, and Joe is so happy he cries.
Nicky is making himself breakfast when it happens. He’s humming, turning an omelet. He hasn’t slept, hasn’t had his coffee yet. Joe thinks he’s so beautiful and tells him as much.
“Mm, red or green peppers, what do you think j-“
Nicky turns. Ironically, he looks directly at Joe. His gaze is devastated. Joe hops off from where he’s perched, reaching for him. “Oh, Nicolo-“
“No,” Nicky whispered. The spatula dropped from his hand. “No, no no no no-“
His knees buckled and he let out a keening sob. Joe tries to run a hand through his hair and despairs when he can’t.
Nicky crawls back into bed for three days, but it… it gets better, after that.
Years pass that way.
Nicky goes through phases, good and bad. He drinks on the anniversary of Joe’s death and crawls back into bed sometimes, but he gives his neighbors plants from the garden and they start asking after him.
Year three is when things get… tough.
The family is suspiciously absent this year, taking on a deep undercover mission despite Andy’s prosthetic leg. They probably feel it is safe to leave Nicky alone.
Joe knows the work they do is vital, knows they don’t mesh any harm, but as he watches Nicolo clutch a bottle of pills he kinda hates his family.
“Nicky, please, not like this.” Joe cries, pleads, sobs. He misses Nicolo with everything he is, longs for his touch and his kiss, and the day that they will finally be together again.
But Nicolo is good and kind, and he has more to offer the world than this. He deserves a better death than this.
And, miracle of miracles, Nicolo stops.
He gets bronchitis a week later. Joe teases him relentlessly as he sits in his hospital bed and grumbles.
“I keep telling you, my love, you have work to do.” He says, and kisses Nicky on the forehead.
Nicky has things to do and love to give, he can’t join Joe. Not yet.
Honestly, Joe meant a dog. Or a cat, or a new plant of some kind. Not a human being.
Still, Joe sits behind the social worker’s computer and examines the files she goes through, judging each baby carefully.
“You have to understand, Nicky only deserves the best,” Joe explained to her again. “He needs a child who- oh! Oh! Go back one! C’mon, back!”
She does, even though Joe knows she can’t hear him.
Curly-haired, abandoned, in need of a good home. Perfect.
Nicky and Joe talked about children dozens of times. Hundreds of dozens, even.
If Joe had to pick one, he thought he’d done a very good job with Marcello.
First of all, the baby was adorable. Curly hair, green eyes, a tinkling little laugh that made Nicky melt. Second, Marcello Al-Kaysani Di Genova rolled right off the tongue despite being 11 syllables and containing about half the alphabet plus a hyphen.
Or maybe Yusuf ibn Ibrahim ibn Muhammad ibn Al-Kaysani called Al-Tayyib just had a soft spot for long names.
He digresses.
Nicky panics every time Marcello cries, and Joe would feel bad about Nicky needing to parent alone if Nicky’s panicking wasn’t so goddamn cute.
“You’re doing so well, my love,” Joe says one night after Marcello has finally fallen asleep in Nicky’s arms. “He’s so lucky to have you for a father.”
Marcello blinks his eyes open, and Joe smiles down at him. “Well hello, Marcello! My, you’ve grown big in the last few months, hm?”
He starts to squirm, whine a little, and Joe shushes him quickly. “Oh no, no Habibi, shh, your papa needs his sleep. No more nightmares, go back to sleep now.”
Marcello settles, yawns, and sticks his fist in his mouth. Nicky shifts but doesn’t wake, exhales something that might be Joe’s name.
Joe smiles. His family, whole at last.
Nicky, being Nicky, decides that one of the noblest jobs on the planet isn’t noble enough, and becomes a foster dad.
Every time the social worker picks someone new, Joe likes to “help” with the decision process.
Nicky curses him for sending Venetians his way and tells small children not-quite-made-up stories about a brave knight and his curly-haired angel.
Marcello draws them for art class once, excitedly explains to his teacher that “this is my papa, me, and this with the wings is my baba! He’s in heaven, so I can’t see him, but papa says he’s always watching me, like Santa!”
Joe cries big fat ghost tears, and Nicky cries big fat human tears, and Joe loves his husband so much and he wishes more than anything that he could hug Marcello.
Nicky never goes on a date. Never even considers it, not once.
Marcello teases him once, when he’s small and the idea of romance is a passing fancy. He doesn’t mean any harm by it, he knows that Nicky loves his baba.
But still, he teases, and Nicky goes very quiet and retreats to the attic.
Joe finds him up there, crying over one of Joe’s paintings, and Joe feels… terrible.
Sometimes he forgets. He forgets that he and Nicky can’t touch, forgets that Nicky has no idea he’s here. He forgets that Nicky is hurting, and then he feels like a monster for forgetting.
The white light touches the corners of his vision again, and Joe is intensely ashamed to admit that he considers it- Nicky has Marcello, and the kids, and the family of immortals, and Joe is simply torturing himself.
But then Nicky sobs out his name. Yusuf, torna da me, amore mio.
And Joe stays.
Marcello comes up five minutes later clutching an apology picture he made and blubbering out an apology amidst guilty tears, and Nicky pulls him into his lap and tells another story about Joe.
Marcello gets older, and Andy and Quynh get married.
Andy’s hair is almost completely silver, and she looks good. Quynh is gorgeous in her red dress, and when Nicky and Marcello are shown to their seats there’s an empty space on Nicolo’s right with a card that reads reserved for Yusuf Al-Kaysani in Quynh’s delicate handwriting.
Joe cheers louder than anyone when they kiss. They’ve fucking earned this.
Nicky goes grey, and his hairline recedes. He slouches in on himself in typical Italian grandfather fashion, and Joe thinks he’s the most adorable thing in the world.
But seriously, if Nicky doesn’t cut it out with the bitter old man act, Joe is gonna smack him.
He knows Nicolo hates his cane, knows that he wishes he’d gotten to see Joe grow old with him. But he also knows that Nicky has seen the world, has done things no person could ever hope to do, and has, ultimately lived a full life.
Joe sighs and decides Nicky needs a little kick in the ass.
He’s gotten very good at moving things, after all. A tiny bit of bunches carpet, and whoop, down he goes.
“Sorry, babe, but you earned that one.” Joe sighs. Nicky starts to laugh, so Joe thinks he agrees.
Nicky is very bad at taking his heart medication.
He talks to Joe more now, and Joe is scared he’s getting some sort of degenerative thing- watching Nicky forget him is the one thing Joe won’t be able to handle.
But then.
Well.
Then.
It’s a lovely day, and Nicky is humming while cooking. Joe is sitting on his typical perch on the counter and Nicky is flexing one of his hands.
“Maybe a walk after lunch, hm?” Nicky says- not necessarily to Joe, but by this point it’s pretty much implied. Joe hums. “Yeah, it’s way too gorgeous to stay insi- Nicky?”
Nicky clutches the counter with one hand, eyes fluttering closed. His other hand clenches on his chest, and he topples to the ground.
Joe goes utterly still.
Nicky’s breathing is harsh. Joe ignores the instinct to try and help- what can he do? He can’t call anyone, he can’t comfort Nicky, he can’t-
“Shh,” Joe mumbles, still unable to move, “it’ll be over soon my darling, shh-“
The breathing stops, and Nicky exhales on a sigh.
“I’m ready,” he mutters, and Joe snorts. “I’ll say.”
Nicky looks at him. Really, truly looks at him. He sits up, young and as gorgeous as ever even while his body lays dead on the floor.
Joe doesn’t even hear what he says next, he just reaches out, grabs Nicky’s hand, pulls him to his feet. Kisses him.
Nicky throws his arms around Joe, kisses him and cries and sends him backwards. His hands clench on Joe’s shirt, the same shirt he’s been wearing for forty years. He’s just glad it’s not a hospital gown.
Nicky’s hands slide down his back and clamp on his thighs, hefting him upward. Joe crosses his legs around Nicky’s back, clinging to him and laughing against his mouth.
The white light flares. They walk in it together.
They separate in paradise.
Nicky exhales softly, still pressed up against him. Joe hugs him, rests his chin on Nicky’s shoulder.
“We made it.” He mutters. “But I don’t see your Saint peter.”
“Mm, don’t care.” Nicky nuzzles into him, and Joe kisses his ear “you might wanna, because I think your dad’s coming over here-“
They separate, and Nicky fires off something in rapid genovan- and is met with the same language as the man- Nicky’s father- claps him on the shoulder.
This is entirely too weird, Joe decides, even while a voice he hasn’t heard in centuries shouts “Yusuf!”
And Joe whirls around, hugs his baba tight enough that it aches.
His sisters jump at his shoulders, his mother kisses Nicky’s cheeks, and everything- everything is gleaming and bright and perfect.
Andy pops up, later. She’s bright and shining and beautiful and she takes one look at Joe and punches him in the goddamn face.
“You died,” she seethes, “from fucking cancer?!”
Joe laughs. “Been holding that one in for a while?”
“I promised Nicky we wouldn’t talk bad about your choices while you were alive.” Andy waves a hand, “but that rule is dead and gone. Like us! Fuck! I’m not supposed to be here.”
“Didn’t mean to leave Quynh?” Nicky guesses, and Andy deflates. “Yeah.”
“Followed the white light on accident?” Joe asks, and Andy groans. “Yeah.”
“She’s gonna kick your ass-“
“Nah,” Quynh says, popping up next to them. “Sorry, not sorry- I’m not as strong as you, Nicky.”
“When did you become mortal?” Nicky asked, more bemused than anything.
“About two years before you kicked it.” Quynh shrugged. “I missed you both.”
“You do realize you left Booker and Nile alone, right?” Joe asked as he hugged her. Andy shuddered. “God- they’re gonna burn the world down.”
They laughed, all of them.
Finally, a certain someone came.
He was beautiful, green eyes and curly hair. He hugged Nicky tight.
Joe was scared, he probably shouldn’t be, but he was. Nicky and he had discussed this moment so many times, but-
Nicky turned them around, and Joe smiled, trying not to let his nerves show.
“Hi, Marcello, I’m-“
Marcello burst out laughing, running at him and hugging him tightly. “Baba!”
And now-
now
everything was perfect.