Chapter Text
“Here.”
Nureyev looked up with a start as Jet broke the silence of the kitchen. He had noticed when Jet had joined him and Juno in the room of course. But had assumed Jet had just intended to make himself a snack and leave. Instead, he stood in front of Juno, holding out a large mug of something steaming.
“Huh?” Juno exclaimed, eloquent as always when confused. He stared suspiciously from the mug up to Jet and back again. And the scowl that had been carved into his face since their return to the Carte Blanche only deepened. “What’s that?”
“Coffee, with cream.” Jet said, undeterred by Juno’s less than warm response. “Rita assures me that’s how you prefer it. Even if you lie and say you take it black.”
“Yeah, I can tell it's coffee, Big Guy.” Juno snapped. He didn’t reach for the cup. “Except that’s your mug.”
“All the items in the kitchen are communal.” Jet said. “This includes glassware.”
“Oh come on, that’s bullshit and you know it.”
Nureyev winced at the prickliness of Juno’s tone. But the detective was right. The large purple mug, with its grey and white stripes and chipped black handle was Jet’s. And Vespa had made it very clear that mugs weren’t interchangeable the first, and only time her’s was used for pickle hot chocolate.
Regardless of the observation, Nureyev knew better than to join this particular conversation. Nor did he mention that Juno’s preferred cup was clearly visible in the still open cabinet. Too small and fiddly by far for Juno to hold onto. Not with his fingers splinted together, and swathed in layers of bandages. The broken bones too delicate for any of the treatments Vespa would normally employ to speed the healing process.
Nureyev turned back to the article he was reading on his comm. Taking a careful sip of his tea to hide his bemused smile.
There was a moment; watching out of the corner of his eye, where he was worried Juno wouldn’t take the drink. He had already refused when Nureyev had offered to make him coffee earlier. But Jet seemed prepared to wait. Unswayed by Juno’s surliness as he held out the cup.
Eventually, Juno took it from him with a grunt in lieu of the more traditional thank you. His mitten-like hands curling easily around the large surface. He didn’t take a sip. But he didn’t put it down on the table either.
The warmth must have felt good on his hands as he slumped back into his chair with a barely audible sigh. And when Nureyev knocked their legs together , Juno did the same. Hooking their ankles together under the table.
But the scowl didn’t waiver.
Vespa dragged Juno to the medbay as soon as they had made it back to the ship. And Juno had gone with only minimal complaint. Seemingly too tired, for once, to put up much of a fuss.
Thankfully, she hadn’t made him stay long. It was a blessing that Nureyev hadn’t expected. But the Gemini syndicate had clearly realized that Juno was worth far more to them alive than dead. Most of the damage had been contained to his hands and face. They’d need a dentist to fix his smile, but Juno was going to be fine.
Hearing Vespa’s diagnosis was like a lead weight had been lifted from Nureyev’s shoulders. One he hadn’t even known was there until it was gone. Juno was a little thinner, perhaps, and a little roughed up. But it was nothing that wouldn’t heal, given time and patience.
But Nureyev had been with Juno long enough to know that patience was in itself the problem.
Everything had been fine last night. After Vespa had kicked them from the med bay, he and Juno had stumbled back to their room. So tired that they barely managed to change their clothes before they collapsed into the bed.
Juno fell asleep in moments. Curled as tightly as he could manage in the space between Nureyev’s arm and chest as he snored. So different than his normal sprawl that Nureyev couldn’t help but wonder the last time he had felt safe enough to get a proper rest.
It was the last thought Nureyev remembered having before sleep dragged him down as well. The loss of the desperate adrenaline that had driven him the last two weeks had left him hollow to the core. More exhausted than he’d ever remembered being.
But now, in the light of day, Nureyev couldn’t ignore how different Juno was acting.
He was quiet. Making no attempts to fill the silence of the kitchen as he normally would have. Instead, he was withdrawn and waspish. Sharper by far then Nureyev knew he wanted to be. If the guilty look on his face after he had snapped at a doting Rita was any indication.
None of the crew had called him on it, of course. Juno had always been the kind to handle his injuries with the grace of a cornered alley cat. And Nureyev doubted his own temperament would be any less prickly after a fortnight of captivity.
Nonetheless, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was wrong. And he had his suspicions as to what it was.
From over the rim of his tea Nureyev watched as Juno clumsily set his drink on the table. He cursed as it sloshed, staining the bandages at his wrist a milky brown. But Juno ignored the damage as he reached up, scratching awkwardly at his cheeks.
Two weeks was a long time.
Long enough that the stubble Juno had originally left the ship with had grown into the start of a beard. Already far longer than he normally would have tolerated. Generally, it only took a few days between shaving before Juno would start complaining; calling it itchy and invasive. A sensation that Nureyev doubted had improved now that Juno’s splinted hands couldn’t hold a razor.
Nureyev should have noticed what was wrong sooner.
Juno hadn’t started scowling until he caught sight of himself in the mirror. Not that Juno… his lovely, amazing, stubborn Juno, would ever have mentioned it. But that was fine, Nureyev knew what he needed to do.
His chair dragged against the tile as he stood. Abandoning his still half-full tea by the sink to be washed. But he wasn’t prepared for the bereft sound Juno made behind him.
“Wait, you’re leaving?” Juno asked. And his barely controlled frustration cracked, giving way to something raw. “Ransom?”
“Only if you come with me, Dear heart.” Nureyev soothed as he held out his hand. “I want to show you something.”
“Show me what?”
“If I say it's a surprise, will you trust me?” Nureyev said, with his most disarming smile. It was easier to smooth Juno’s worries than it was to focus on his own nerves. But it seemed to work as Juno nodded, climbing stiffly to his feet.
Encouraged, Nureyev grasped Juno’s wrist. His fingers curled loosely above Vespa’s neat bandages as he lead Juno from the kitchen. The same way he normally would have reached for his hand.
Thankfully the ship was quiet as they crept down the hall. Past the communal areas to the tiny bathroom that stood across from Jet and Juno’s rooms. Nureyev shut the door behind them, activating the lock with a click.
“Wait here, Detective Mine?” Nureyev asked as he sat Juno down on the closed seat of the toilet. The only perch available in a cramped space not designed to accommodate two grown adults.
“I mean, sure?” Juno’s brow furrowed. But he didn’t move as Nureyev rummaged through the cabinet under the sink. Searching for the zippered bag that he knew Juno kept his toiletries in.
“Ah-ha! There you are.” Nureyev cooed as he pulled out the crinkly blue bag. Decorated liberally with textured white flowers. And if anything, Juno only looked more confused than before.
“What are you up to?”
“You’ll see!” Nureyev said as he dropped the bag on the counter. He removed Juno’s razor and shaving cream, holding them out for his partner to see. “May I?”
It was like Nureyev had flicked a switch. Realization smoothing away the hardest lines of Juno’s face as he stared up at Nureyev. So grateful and imploring that for a moment, Nureyev forgot how to breathe.
“Please.”
Suddenly unable to trust his own voice, Nureyev cupped Juno’s face in his hands. Bending over to kiss his forehead; soft and lingering. “Of course my love.”
He reached for a cloth, turning on the sink to rinse it under the warm water. As gently as he could he washed Juno’s face and neck. Oh so careful of the still healing bruises that marred his features. It was difficult not to revel in the way Juno leaned into his touch. Painfully aware of how much trust he was putting in him. The way he did so without question.
It was so different than the last time Nureyev had done this for him. A lifetime and a Hyperion hotel room ago. A memory shoved so far into the back of his mind, that Nureyev had nearly forgotten. But something could only be folded away so many times before it returned for future consideration
///
The Doctors weren’t able to save Juno’s eye.
To his credit, Juno had seemed to take the news rather well. Or maybe, it was just what he had expected to hear. The Detective’s seemingly inherent inclination to assume the worst had unfortunately served him well.
They had left the hospital as soon as the doctors had allowed. Perhaps a little sooner than what was strictly medically advisable. But Juno couldn’t be swayed. Refusing even the support of Nureyev’s arm as they left. Chin level with his shoulders as he stomped his way to the hotel Nureyev had booked.
What a sight they must have made. Stumbling through the grandiose lobby of that 4-star establishment. No longer bloody, but still bruised and burnt. Juno’s face a thundercloud under the thick pad of bandages that covered the space where his eye used to be. As if daring anyone to comment on their presence.
Not that anyone would. This was Hyperion City after all.
“Here you are, Detective,” Nureyev said, once they had reached the relative safety of their room. He passed Juno a neat stack of clothes, a leather toiletry bag balanced on top. All liberated from a department store within walking distance of the hospital. A much-needed distraction from the seemingly endless hours Juno had spent in surgery. “That should have everything you need if you wish to freshen up.”
“Err…. Thanks, I guess.” Juno said only after the weight of the silence between them grew unbearable.
He grabbed the clothes. Clutching the pile to his chest as he stared at Nureyev with the oddest expression. As if the very idea that Nureyev might have gone out of his way to do something nice was incomprehensible. But Juno didn’t give him the chance to respond. He turned on his heel. Storming into the bathroom without another word.
It was… more difficult than Nureyev anticipated to have Juno out of his direct line of sight. It took every ounce of self-control not to follow as the bathroom door closed between them. The relatively harmless sound of the lock engaging enough to send his heart racing.
But there was no point in dwelling on such things now. Not when Juno was here. When they were safe, together in a lovely hotel. On the precipice of a future that promised only wonder.
So Nureyev shoved the feeling away. Folding the panic up as tightly as he could manage, until it was something he could ignore. It became easier once the shower clicked on. Steam curling under the gap of the door. Tangible evidence that they had left the forsaken tomb behind. Enough, at least that Nureyev move into the room, putting the rest of his purchases away.
If Juno had seen the black logo-less bag Nureyev was carrying, he hadn’t commented on it. And Nureyev wasn’t sure if he was happy to have avoided the potentially awkward conversation or not. He stashed its contents in the drawer of the bedside table. The plastic bottle rolling past leather straps and silicon to hit the back of the drawer with a thunk. Easily left and forgotten if the mood wasn’t right.
With his only task completed, there was nothing left to do but wait. Nureyev perched on the edge of the bed, flipping absently through the limited channels of the holo-vid as he waited for Juno to come back.
The shower had cut off a while ago. But the Lady himself had yet to make a reappearance. Not that Nureyev was in a position to judge. He had spent well over an hour in there when he had first booked the room. Revelling in the unlimited hot water until his fingers had wrinkled.
“Damn-it!”
Nureyev put down the remote with a frown. Not quite sure what to make of the curse. The first was easy enough to ignore. But it was soon followed by more in rapid succession. Mild annoyance giving way to frustration and then to anger.
“Are you fucking kidding me?!”
Nureyev rapped sharply on the door. “Detective?”
Juno didn’t answer him. But the lock on the door flashed from red to green as it disengaged. Enough of a sign, at least, to keep that panic at bay as Nureyev stepped inside.
Juno sat on the edge of the closed toilet seat, wearing only the soft cotton pants that Nureyev had stolen for him. He was slumped forward, head resting heavily in his hands. And he didn’t look up as Nureyev entered.
“Darling?” Nureyev asked as he took in the scene. The room was hot and muggy. The mirror blurred with fog except for a dripping circle that had been cleared in the middle. The toiletry bag sat open on the counter. Its contents were spilled haphazardly across the counter. A razor had been left abandoned in the sink. A match to the can of shaving cream on the ground by Juno’s feet. “Is everything alright?”
“Oh yeah. Everything’s great.” Juno snarled into his hands, flinching as his fingers brushed too close to still sensitive skin. He pulled himself upright, remaining eye suspiciously red. “I just wanted a shave. Is that too much to ask?”
“Of course it isn’t,” Nureyev said. Painfully aware of how far out of his depth he was. Rex Glass would have had a plan. Duke, certainly would have known what to say to his Dahlia. But Right now? He was only Peter Nureyev. And he had no idea what to do. “What’s wrong, Darling?”
“What’s wrong!?” Juno laughed, a bitter bark of a sound that seemed ripped from his very core. He kicked at the can of shaving cream, sending it skidding across the tile. Nureyev stooped to pick it up, seeing the foam that already decorated the sink. “I’ve missed my god damn face three times already. Going to take off my nose if I try to pick up a razor.”
Nureyev hummed softly. Depth perception. The surgeon had mentioned that the loss of Juno’s eye would have its consequences. But Nureyev hadn’t thought about the implications until now. And he feared that Juno hadn’t either.
“The doctor said there would be a brief adjustment period.” He said, with all of Duke’s charm. Using the familiar mask as a shield as he crouched down in front of Juno. He cupped a hand to Juno’s cheek, feeling the sharp prickle of hair against his palm. “Perhaps we can just trim it, for now. Clean it up a little. Then you can shave when you’re… more steady.”
“More steady, huh.” Juno closed his eye, leaning into Nureyev’s touch. They were so close now, every point of contact burning like wildfire. “It doesn’t look bad?”
“Not at all.” Nureyev couldn’t resist pressing in closer. Drawn to Juno’s warmth as he kissed him gently. Taking in the smell of cheap hotel soap, and something else. Something inherently Juno that he chased down his jaw. Laying open mouth kisses to the hollow of his throat the thick scruff was rough against Nureyev’s lips. Abrasive in away he wasn’t sure he enjoyed. But for Juno, he’d be willing to try. “I think it looks quite dashing, actually.”
Juno smiled; a tiny flickering thing. “You do, huh.” He teased, lifting his chin so Nureyev could have better access to his neck. Gasping softly as teeth grazed against delicate flesh.
But as he did Juno’s gaze shifted, Catching his reflection in the mirror. And as quickly the smile had appeared it faded. Giving way to the same vacant expression that Nureyev had seen too often in the tomb. After they had been dragged to the cell they had shared after a too-long session with Miasma. Lost in ghosts of what had already happened.
“No.” Juno reeled back. So abruptly that he overbalanced, nearly falling off the seat. “I can’t wait that long. It has to go.”
“Till tomorrow then,” Nureyev tried to soothe. The moment between them shattering even as he tried to hold it together. His hands fell to the side, no longer certain his touch was wanted. “I’ll find you a barber, as early as I can manage.”
“Nureyev, please. It has to come off.” Juno urged. He glanced back at the mirror. Grimacing as his fists curled his lap. “It feels like… Like I’m… damn it!”
“Like you’re back there.” Nureyev finished for him. He would be lying if he said he didn’t understand the feeling. He tugged at the sleeves of his shirt down over this own bandaged wrists. Where arching burns throbbed even under layers of salve.
Juno nodded grimly. Staring resolutely over Nureyev’s shoulder to the sink behind him. Where the shaving kit stood between them. The implications heavier than even what Nureyev had hidden in the bedside table.
“I once spent a month working in a salon on Venus,” Nureyev said as settled on the floor by Juno’s feet. “A lovely place, serving only the highest tier of Venusian society. Including a certain Marquis, who I had been hired to lift a painting off of.”
“Any particular reason for storytime?” Juno asked him. But it lacked the bite from before. And Nureyev took it as a sign to continue.
“Oh hush.” He chastised, reaching out to flick Juno’s knee. “Patience, Darling.”
“Yeah, never had much use for it.”
“Apparently!”
“Are you going to finish or not?” Juno said. “ My ass is falling asleep here.”
Nureyev hummed softly. “I needed to steal his comms to get access to his vault. But his security team was enthusiastic to say the least ” He leaned back, resting his weight against the firm support of Juno’s Leg. “The salon was the only way I could get close enough to take it. Other than sleeping with him, of course. A lovely man, but hardly my type.”
“The only problem with that scenario.”
“But of course, Detective.”
Juno laughed, a low rumble of a sound. Barely audible even in the closed quarters. But it was so different from the self-deprecating chuckles that Nureyev had heard before. And he wanted to hear it again; over and over. To be the reason why Juno laughed.
“ I won't bore you with the details. But working at that salon did leave me with some invaluable skills.” Nureyev continued. “Including a certain degree of Barbery knowledge, if you’re amendable.”
He expected Juno’s answer to be immediate. A flat refusal or perhaps a biting quip. The detective was rarely at a loss for words after all.”
But Juno’s brow only furrowed. Once again staring at Nureyev like he was a puzzle to solve, or a trap to be disassembled. There was no denying the bolt of hurt at the realization that even now, Juno didn’t trust him. That there was still enough doubt between them that Juno felt the need to try and find a hidden meaning in every action.
With the loss of his eye, Juno no longer had the ability to read minds. Did he miss it? The ability to instantly know another’s intentions? If he could still read Nureyev’s thoughts, he’d know there was no need for reservation. Because where Juno was concerned, there were no ulterior motives beyond making him happy.
What more did Nureyev have to prove?
He held his breath. Afraid to move as he waited on Juno’s judgement. Certain, that in a moment the detective would say no. And Nureyev would spend the next few hours searching for a barber that opened before their shuttle time tomorrow.
But as always, Juno lived to surprise him.
“Sure, what the hell,” Juno said, sounding resigned and relieved in equal measures. His hatred of the scruff seemed to outweigh any misgivings he may have had. And Nureyev could work with that. They had time after all. Enough, certainly, to prove that his affection didn’t come with a price tag. “Let’s trust the master thief with a blade to my throat, see what happens.”
Nureyev didn’t know what to make of that. But he made himself laugh regardless. Slowly climbing to his feet.
“That’s the spirit, darling.”
///
After Juno had left that night, Nureyev had never dared to hope he’d find himself in this position again. Standing between Juno’s legs in the Carte Blanche’s cramped bathroom. A razor and shaving cream laid out neatly beside him.
That memory, like most from that night, had been too precious to hold onto. So Nureyev had folded them up tight. Locking them away in a desperate bid to try and move on from Juno Steel. As if such a thing was possible.
If only Nureyev had known then, what it truly meant to hold Juno’s love and devotion in his hand.
In that hotel room, Juno had been a brick wall. So rigid and unyielding in Nureyev’s hands that he had been terrified he’d knick him by accident. But now?
Juno’s eye fluttered closed. His head tilting back with a whispering sigh as Nureyev worked. Spreading the shaving cream across cheeks left hollow by captivity. It was like a cord had been severed. The tension seemed to leave Juno’s shoulders all at once. Until even the permanent furrow of his brow was smoothed away.
His nose crinkled as Nureyev brushed the foam above his lip. And his eye cracked open a sliver. “That tickles.”
“Oh hush,” Nureyev said as he lifted Juno’s chin to the light. Tilting it to the side to make sure he hadn’t missed a spot. “You’re distracting me.”
It had been a long time since he had shaved another man's face. But the familiar motions returned with ease as he dragged the razor down Juno’s cheek. Carefully pulling the skin taut to ensure a smooth pass. Even the thrum of nervousness that had so nearly consumed him last time was notably absent. He rinsed the blade, before starting again. Quickly getting lost in the rhythmic pattern.
Neither of them spoke as Nureyev worked. The kind of easy silence that, until Juno, Nureyev had only thought was a myth.
He knew, perhaps, that he was standing closer than he needed to be. But there was no reason to move. Pressed into the hollow of Juno’s thighs, a familiar warmth sparked between his own. But he felt no urge to act on the sensation. Content, for now, to fold the feeling away as he eased Juno’s head back to reach his chin.
For future consideration. And hopefully, if Juno was amendable, the very near future.
“There you are, my love,” Nureyev murmured after what felt equally like a moment and an eternity. He reached for the cloth, wiping any leftover foam away as gently as he could manage. “Good as new.”
“Thank you,” the light of his life whispered, wrapping his arms around Nureyev’s neck to pull him down for a kiss. “That feels so much better.”
“Of course.” Juno shivered as Nureyev brushed the back of his knuckles along the newly smooth skin. For future consideration indeed. “It's the least I could do, considering.”
“Still, thanks,” Juno said, so genuine that it tugged at Nureyev’s heartstrings. How different he was compared to the Lady who had left him in Hyperion. “It means a lot, you know?”
“I’m glad. But I feel like I should be thanking you for letting me do it.” Nureyev turned to clean up their mess. But as he reached to pack everything away, he was surprised to realize his hands were shaking.
“ ‘Reyev?”
Nureyev clutched at the sides of the sink to try and hide the trembling. But it was a lost cause as Juno’s bandaged hand pressed awkwardly against his arm. The simple touch enough to shatter the remains of his control. And his eyes began to burn.
“Uhh, everything okay over there?”
Before he even knew what came over him, Nureyev whirled around. He grabbed Juno by the shoulders and pulled him close. Holding him as tightly as he dared.
“Whoah, hey!” Juno exclaimed, breathless and surprised. But nonetheless, his arms wrapped around Nureyev’s waist. “I’ve got you. What’s wrong?”
“Thank you, for letting me…” The words caught in Nureyev's throat. He tried again. But it came out wrong; stuttering and wet as tears streaked unchecked down his face. He pressed a kiss to the side of Juno’s head for courage as he choked, “For coming back.”
“Hey, shh. It's okay.” Juno murmured. He rested his head against Nureyev’s chest. Warm, soft, and there. “I know it seemed bad. But they were way more interested in money than murder. I knew you’d get me out.”
Nureyev squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head pitifully. The only response he could manage as words failed him entirely. But Juno seemed to understand. He always did.
“Oh Nureyev, always.” He said as he pulled Nureyev a little closer. “I’ll always come back.