Chapter Text
It starts on a perfectly normal Tuesday evening, a year after Nicky meets Joe in a museum at midnight. Today, Nicky had been working late (again) and, right now, all he wants to do is sleep. But when he reaches his apartment, the door is ajar, and Nicky can’t even muster up the energy to be surprised. Or worried.
A year ago, his reaction might have been different: now, he just sighs and thinks really? Today?
He pushes the door open carefully, stepping inside without making a sound-
To find Joe, standing in his living room, who lights up when he sees Nicky. “You’re back!”
“And you are in my apartment.” Nicky stares at him. “How did you get in here?”
“I... picked the lock.” Joe at least has the decency to look slightly guilty at that.
Nicky blinks, closing the door behind him. “Why?”
“You left your jacket at Andy and Quynh’s.” Joe holds out said jacket, and Nicky takes it, still not entirely sure this isn’t a dream. He’d been working late, after all, and has been known to fall asleep in his office before.
“So you broke into my apartment to bring me back my jacket?”
Joe gives him a sheepish look. “Yes?”
Nicky can’t help laughing at that. Maybe it’s the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. Maybe he’s just really, really tired.
“If you want me to go, I can, I just…” Joe trails off, looking at Nicky questioningly.
“No.” Nicky’s surprised by how quickly he answers. “No, no… stay.”
Joe smiles.
The second time it happens, Nicky’s actually home.
There’s a strange shuffling sound outside his door followed by a quiet curse. It’s at that point that Nicky gets up to investigate, but he’s already fairly sure who it is.
He pulls open the door, and Joe almost falls inside.
“Were you trying to pick the lock again?” Nicky asks as Joe gets to his feet.
“Maybe?” Joe responds.
“Why?”
“I was bored. And I wanted to see you. Unless you have something else you need to-”
“No,” Nicky says, stepping aside to let Joe in and trying not to think too much about the I wanted to see you part. “No, come in.”
Joe grins at him as he walks inside.
“Someday,” Nicky tells him, “you’re going to get caught doing that.”
“Nicky, I’m a professional .”
“Could have fooled me,” Nicky says.
“You wound me, Nicolò.”
“I’m just saying. Next time, you’re going to be trying to pick the lock at seven pm and someone is going to come through and see you and they will call the police.”
“So you’re saying that there will be a next time?” Joe asks.
“That is not what you were supposed to take away from that,” Nicky says, but he smiles anyway. Because the alternative is being alone, and while he’s mostly okay with it, he likes having Joe over. Even if they don’t talk. Even if it’s just them silently occupying the same space.
They lose track of time completely, and by the time Nicky thinks to look at the clock, it’s midnight.
“Shit,” Joe says. “I should probably get back.”
“You don’t have to.” The words slip out before Nicky has time to think. “I mean. You can stay here, if you want. It’s dark out, and it’s late, and-”
“Okay.”
Nicky blinks at him. “Okay?”
Joe smiles. “Okay.”
The third time, Joe is sitting on Nicky’s couch when he gets home, reading.
“Get your feet off the table,” Nicky says by way of greeting. “And I thought we talked about the breaking and entering. I don’t want to have to bail you out if you get arrested.”
“There was nobody around. I checked. Besides, I actually knocked this time, but you weren’t home.”
“Right. I have something for you, by the way.”
Joe sets aside his book and sits up. “Oh?”
Nicky has to rummage through a few different drawers before he finds it. “Here.”
Joe gets up and crosses the room to him, looking down at the key in Nicky’s hand. He glances up at Nicky, then back at the key, surprised.
“You might as well let yourself in the legal way, next time.”
Joe takes it and smiles at him. “Thank you.”
“Consider it my way of keeping you out of jail.”
Joe rolls his eyes at that, still smiling, and Nicky laughs.
After that, it becomes a regular occurrence. More often than not, Nicky comes home to find Joe already there, or Joe arrives not long after he does. Sometimes they talk. Sometimes they don’t - Joe marks his students’ assignments, or sketches, while Nicky reads, and they just exist in the same room. Sometimes Joe stays the night, sleeping on Nicky’s couch, other times he doesn’t. Nicky finds himself hoping that Joe will be there when he gets in, missing him when he doesn’t come over.
Nicky hadn’t realised how lonely he’d been until he hadn’t been alone anymore.
On one of the rare occasions where Joe doesn’t show up, Nicky loses track of time and ends up staying awake until midnight. Which means that he’s awake when the phone rings.
He answers it out of sheer curiosity, because who would be calling him at midnight? “Hello?”
“Hey,” Joe says. “Did I wake you?”
“No, I was already awake. What is it?”
“I just… needed to hear your voice.”
Nicky sits up a little straighter in his chair. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
Joe is silent for a little while. “Can I come over?”
“Of course.”
Not long after Joe hangs up, there’s a knock on Nicky’s door.
“That was fast,” Nicky says as he opens the door, “did you run or something?”
When Joe doesn’t respond, Nicky looks up. He takes one look at him - red-rimmed eyes, disheveled hair, trembling slightly - and pulls him into a hug. Joe takes a shaky breath, as if steadying himself, and lets his head drop onto Nicky’s shoulder. For a long while, neither of them say anything.
“I’m sorry,” Joe says hoarsely.
“Why?” Nicky asks, stepping back just enough so that he can see Joe’s face. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
Joe looks at him for a moment, and Nicky thinks he’s about to say something else, but then he just sighs and nods.
“Go sit down,” Nicky tells him.
Joe’s shoulders relax, just a little, and he sits down on Nicky’s couch. Nicky closes the door, then sits down beside him.
“Tell me,” Nicky says softly.
Joe sighs again, letting his head drop into his hands. “I don’t know.”
Nicky doesn’t respond, offering Joe the opportunity to talk if he wants to. For a few moments, neither of them say a word. Nicky reaches out to place a hand on his shoulder, not sure what else to do.
“I was just having a bad night, I guess,” Joe says eventually. His voice is a little steadier than it had been, but it still shakes.
“What happened?”
“Nothing, really. I just… really hate being alone. Some days are better than others, other times…” He waves his hand. “This happens. I usually go to Andy and Quynh but they’re out of the country. I didn’t know who else to call. I just couldn’t stay there any longer.”
“You can always come here, if you need to. Even if you do wake me up. I won’t mind.”
“You sure? Because I might end up calling you at weird times-”
“Joe.”
Joe falls silent and looks up at him.
“You’re not alone,” Nicky says. “You have me, right? And I’m not going anywhere.”
For the first time that evening, Joe smiles at him.
They spend the rest of the night talking about almost anything else - Joe’s most recent project, Nicky’s asshole coworker, ideas for where they want to go next - and slowly, Joe begins to relax. Joe falls asleep around two, Nicky crashes not long after, and neither of them wake until ten the next morning.
It’s almost perfect.
About a month later, Nicky ends up working far later than he wants to, all because one of his coworkers keeps finding him something else to do when all he wants to do is leave. It had been a long week. He’s exhausted.
He finally gets out around seven pm, only to find that it’s raining. And cold. And windy. It’s days like this where he wonders what possessed him to move to England in the first place, miserable country that it is.
Sighing, he adjusts his bag on his shoulder and begins the journey back to his apartment which normally doesn't take long, but tonight feels like miles.
When he finally gets back, tired and cold and soaked through (the rain hadn’t let up - it had only gotten worse after he left) the lights in his apartment are on, the whole place smells incredible, and he can hear Joe humming in the kitchen. He’s horribly out of tune, but it makes Nicky smile anyway.
Home , he realises, this feels like home .
“Nicky, that you?” Joe calls from the kitchen. “I was starting to worry, you said you’d be earlier. I don’t know if you already had a plan, but it’s late and I figured you might be hungry.” He appears in the doorway and promptly falls silent at the sight of Nicky.
“Bad day,” Nicky says by way of explanation.
“No shit, Nicky, you look like you’re freezing to death. Go change into something dry, at least.”
About ten minutes later, Nicky walks into the kitchen, already feeling slightly less terrible. Dry, at least, and a little warmer.
“So, tell me about it,” Joe says, and Nicky is off.
Joe nods and winces and looks sympathetic in all the right places, as Nicky talks for what feels like hours.
“-and he always acts like he can’t understand me when believe me, I know he can, and he talks slightly louder and slower as if I can’t understand English which, sometimes I wish I couldn’t, so at least I would have a good reason to avoid conversation with him-”
“You really don’t like this guy, huh?” Joe asks.
“Whatever gave you that impression?” Nicky says flatly.
Joe laughs at that. “Well, on the bright side, it’s a Friday, so you have tomorrow off, and Quynh’s found another job for us and I think she was talking about Spain this time, and dinner’s ready.”
“You’re an angel,” Nicky tells him.
Joe just smiles.
Of course, that’s when Nicky realises.
Maybe it’s the exhaustion. Maybe it’s the simple fact that this is the kindest thing anyone has done for him in a long time. Maybe it’s something part of him has known for a long time, and only just been able to put to words.
Nicky looks at Joe, at the way his eyes sparkle in the light, and thinks oh.
It’s not life-changing. It doesn’t turn Nicky’s world upside down. It’s a simple, quiet understanding, a warm feeling like sunlight in his chest. Time does not freeze in its tracks. The world keeps spinning, but just a little brighter than it had been before. It almost feels like an inevitability - of course he loves him, because how could he not?
“Nicky?” Joe says, pulling him back to reality. “You okay?”
“Just distracted,” Nicky tells him, and it’s not entirely a lie.
“Well, come on then. Before it gets cold.” Joe takes the two bowls and carries them through to the other room. Nicky lingers, for just a moment.
Then he follows.