Chapter Text
This thing with Yusuf is so new. Wonderful, and tender but so fragile in it’s novelty.
They confessed their feelings for each other and kissed for the first time only a week ago. Nicolò thinks that he wants to do this right- especially after the way they met. Yusuf deserves that. He deserves someone who will treat him so gently, so kindly, with all the love, and care and attention in the world.
Nicolò has gone his whole life feeling the opposite of that: too rough, too brash, too impulsive. For Yusuf, though, Nicolò would like to try. He would like to be everything that Yusuf deserves.
He is thinking about all this as they sit by the fire, camped out for the night under a large, old tree. Nicolò is leaning back against the trunk, with Yusuf curled up against his chest, Nicolò’s arms wrapped around him. Before he had Yusuf in his life, Nicolò didn’t know easy touches like this, didn’t know what it meant to hold or be held by a loved one. It wasn’t until Yusuf had started to hold him as they fell asleep that Nicolò realized how starved he had been of such wonderful, loving touches.
He’s thinking about that when he leans down to press a kiss against Yusuf’s soft curls, just because he can now.
Yusuf smiles up at him when he does, the fire reflected in his warm, bright eyes, making them glow.
Yusuf asks,“What are you thinking about?”
“You.” Nicolò says, honestly. He doesn’t know how to be any other way around Yusuf. “How beautiful you are. How I would like to do nothing with the rest of my life except to kiss you and hold you in my arms.”
Yusuf’s eyes widen, and he makes a little noise in his throat, that sounds forced out of him. Nico watches, delighted, as a blush crawls over his cheeks. “Nicolò.”
Yusuf opens his mouth as if to say more, then when nothing comes out, he snaps it shut then buries his face in Nicolò’s chest, seemingly overwhelmed.
Nicolò blinks down at him. Has he offended him in some way? “Yusuf, did I say something wrong?”
Yusuf just shakes his head, face still hidden away, curls bouncing.
Nicolò thinks he understands, then. “Tesoro, you must know how lovely you are. How kind, and smart, and handso—”
He is cut off when Yusuf reaches up and claps a hand over Nicolò’s mouth. His cheeks are pinker than Nicolò has ever seen them. “Nico.” Yusuf says, strangled. “You can’t just say things like that.”
“And why not?” Nicolò says, indignant and muffled by Yusuf’s hand.
It is a sign of how well they know each other that Yusuf understands him anyway. “Because,” Yusuf says, dropping his hand from Nicolò’s mouth to gesture, “When you say things like that with that, that voice of yours, and those big, earnest eyes, I might just believe what you’re saying.”
Nico’s heart pounds. He reaches up and cups Yusuf’s flaming cheek. “Would that be such a bad thing?”
Yusuf bites his lip, leans into Nicolò’s touch. “I suppose not. Not if,” his eyelashes flutter, his blush deepens. “Not if you mean it.”
Nicolò sucks in a sharp breath. “I do.” Nico strokes a thumb across Yusuf’s freckles. “I do, my love. And I’ll spend the rest of our life together making sure you know that.”