Chapter Text
“I’m kind of regretting not dressing lighter for today.”
They are heading downtown to find a restaurant in Halfeld Street, one of the historical sites. Nicky had suggested they forego catching the bus again in favor of walking there so Joe could see more of the city. Now, Joe is not lazy; he is, in fact, as in shape as he can be. But the heat can really take a toll on anyone.
Nicky, the fiend, just laughs at him. “You will get used to it. If you wanted cold, you should have gone to the south. Or waited for winter.”
“Well, I didn’t want the cold, and I didn’t know it’d get this hot during spring.”
“You have bad luck. It normally isn’t this hot. I think the most we get is 26 degrees” Nicky pulls a pair of sunglasses from his pocket and offers it to Joe, probably concerned with all the squinting he’s doing. “Does it get very cold in Roterdã?” Joe never thought that he’d be this charmed by not hearing the alveolar tap he was accustomed to on the R, or by that little tilde the other man uses when eliminating the M. His city sounds beautiful on Nicky’s tongue.
“It’s autumn over there, and really, the hottest I remember being at this time of the year was when I was a kid. Peaked at 22.”
“Aah, you will be fine then. Don’t be a baby.” For some reason the taunt sounds funnier when he says it, and Joe playfully shoves at his shoulder. Nicky returns the gesture, but then grabs at his arm and pulls him to a stop. His hands go to the first button on Joe’s shirt, and the linguist freezes, heart hammering in his chest. Nicky doesn’t meet his eye, and proceeds to carefully unbutton his shirt, almost to the middle.
“There, now you cool down.” He lightly pats his chest, and Joe immediately heats up. The other man does end up taking some additional pity on him, though, slowing down his pace as they go on their way.
Lunch hour on a Sunday, there are barely any people milling around, and the two men walk the streets in comfortable silence, content with having the few cars on the street and the faint chattering of birds as ambiance. A few minutes into their impromptu stroll, a familiar symbol catches Joe’s eyes from across the lane.
“You guys have a mosque here?”
Nicky follows his gaze to the orange and green sign hung in front of a commercial building, right above the entrance. The place is closed, but Joe is surprised by it even being here in the first place. Even in Rio, there is only one in the entire state. “ ! It’s an Islamic center. Does that count? Would you like to go there? Tomorrow.”
Joe doesn’t consider himself as a very observant Muslim; he keeps halal more out of habit and doesn’t really do Salat, but he always found comfort in his local mosque. He also understands the obvious invitation to see each other again the next day. “Sure, I’d love that.”
They keep going, all soft smiles and occasional brushes, and soon reach their destination. Halfeld Street is a boardwalk in a sea-less city. White, black, and terracotta colored stones coat the somewhat narrow avenue, forming simple but eye-catching patterns. Storefronts and buildings extend to the end of the street, and they even walk by an art déco looking theater that Nicky also adds to their next outing. Nicky leads them to a nice little place, a family restaurant he seems to be a regular at, whose staff greets them with smiles and pats on the back. Joe is happy to talk some more over a hot meal.
“You told me why you came here,” Nicky says while helping himself to a healthy serving of rice and beans. “But what are you going to do now?”
“See...” Joe talks about his plan, his route to the Amazon, and as he explains it out loud to another person, he can see previously overlooked flaws. And so does Nicky.
“Wait, you wanted to take that shitty car across the country, barely knowing Portuguese, all alone?” He tries to hide a laugh behind his hand. “I’m sorry, but…”
“Yeah, yeah, it wasn’t really a good idea.” At Joe’s defeated tone, Nicky gives up his attempt to mask his enjoyment of the situation and straight up snorts, a sound which would have been annoying coming from anyone else but is now the most charming thing Joe has ever heard. Nicky’s mirth is contagious, and the two of them soon devolve into giggling while trying to not drop their forks.
“But hey,” Joe continues, after they get a hold of themselves. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for my stupid plan.”
Nicky raises his beer in a toast, still smiling. “To your stupid plan then. Tim tim !” Joe does the same with his soda glass. To his stupid plan indeed.
Joe likes to savor his food just as he likes to savor the spoken word, but Nicky is a fast eater, and the linguist didn’t want to be left behind. They soon finish their servings of rice, black beans, fries, toasted yucca flour, and fried garlic covered meat. After paying (which Joe insists on doing, since he was done saving his money for that doomed trip) the two men wander aimlessly for a little while.
Joe feels sluggish after eating, but doesn’t want to cut their outing (date?) short. He thinks about asking Nicky to come back to his hotel room without sounding like he’s propositioning him, but the other man beats him to the punch.
“Come to my house. For coffee.” Maybe he doesn’t notice how that offer sounds. Nicky seems to find it hard to meet his eyes, a blush covering his already sun-burned face. Ok, he knows exactly how it sounds. Joe nods and tries to look as nonchalant as possible to put him at ease, despite feeling as if he’s on the verge of a heart attack.
Nicky leads, and Joe follows.
He lives near, in one of those houses that were big enough to be split into separate apartments, on the top floor. It’s a small place, but doesn’t look cramped with the way Nicky has utilized the space. The only part that seems crowded is the little balcony, which is covered in plants with a tiny gap left for a plastic chair. Joe pictures Nicky there, watching the street below with a coffee cup in hand, and then imagines himself beside him, in his own plastic chair. Maybe it’s because of all the years he’s spent longing, alone in his own small apartment, or because he has always been a hopeless romantic, but right there, in that big to medium-sized city that he hadn’t planned on visiting, Joe sees a possible future.
Nicky busies himself in the kitchen, while the linguist watches from one of two stools near the countertop. Does every Brazilian have the same metallic coffee maker?
The other man puts the pot on the stove and turns to face him. “Did- Did you have fun today?” He absently scratches at his wrist, the nervousness from earlier making a comeback. Curiously, his accent seems less prominent in this anxious state, as he is even more conscious of the way he speaks.
“Oh, yes. It was great!” Joe decides to be completely truthful. “But really, I think the company made the day special.”
Nicky still looks uncertain, but the linguist is sure it has nothing to do with their little excursion. He moves closer and leans over the counter, heated gaze on Joe’s lips.
“Yeah?” Their hands almost touch, splayed over the marble surface. Joe mirrors him, putting them nose to nose.
“Yeah.” He closes the last sliver of distance between them and presses his mouth to Nicky’s. The other man inhales sharply, grabbing at Joe’s neck and deepening the kiss.
They break for air a few seconds later, moving around the counter to meet again in the middle of the room. They eagerly explore each other’s bodies, with both passion and care; chests pressed together, Joe clutches Nicky’s broad shoulder with one hand, while the other sneaks under his shirt at the small of his back. Nicky’s mouths at his neck, fingers pleasantly scraping against his scalp as he runs them through Joe’s hair, making the linguist moan at the sensation.
Inadvertently walking backwards, the two of them end up toppling over the arm of the tackiest flower-patterned couch Joe has ever seen, with Nicky being cushioned by his body and him hitting his head on the other arm. Dazed, they just look at each other for a few seconds, eyes blown out.
“Well,” Joe can’t help but interrupt the moment, sounding hoarse. “at least it’s a better spot for a make out.” Nicky huffs out a laugh, and pulls Joe to him once again.
They spend some time there, tangled in one another. The coffee burns.
Afterwards, they sit on the floor, leaning on the front of the couch with bruised lips and sweat-slicked skin. Nicky had made another attempt at brewing, this time with the added distraction of Joe hugging him from behind. Now they sip comfortably side by side. It’s such a peaceful scene that Joe doesn’t have the heart to tell him he hates unsweetened coffee.
Nicky finishes his cup first, his mouth apparently as immune to the heat as his body. “There is still somewhere I want to take you today.” He says.
-
The sun sets over the green-gray city, the almost cloudless sky a canvas of watercolors. They stand on the red and yellow-tiled courtyard of the viewpoint, pressed closed together as they lean over the railings. It’s a beautiful sight.
The light slowly disappears, and Joe relishes in the warmth emanating from the man beside him. He glides his fingers from Nicky’s forearm to his hand, squeezing it, and he turns to look at Joe with one of his tiny but telling smiles as he does the same.
“Is it bad that I am happy your car broke?”
Joe matches his smile and bends to press his forehead against Nicky’s as he takes a deep, content breath.
“No. I’m happy too.”
