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Juno disappears sometimes.
Peter tries not to think about it too much. Tries not to worry or wonder or wring his hands for the proceeding three hours until he inevitably returns. There’s always that moment of fear. That this time, he won’t return. This time he’ll be gone for good. Because they’ve been there before, haven’t they?
Although, Peter supposes, that this time Juno would be leaving more than Just Peter Nureyev.
The thought makes his hands shake, his blood run cold. Not because Juno left, because they’re past that. He’s forgiven Juno and refuses to let himself go back to that place of detached anger. The anger is what does it. The memory of days and weeks and months buzzing around in his mind. Of spitting Juno Steel’s name every time he dared speak it. Of nights spent tired and frustrated and alone.
He doesn’t want to be alone anymore.
Juno always comes back.
He’s a lot lighter these days, but when he comes back it’s more noticeable. Something behind his eye seems to burn a little brighter. His hands are steadier, his smile easier. Peter wants to be the reason for that look on his face (he doesn’t want to know who is.)
Except that he’s maybe a little jealous. Not that he’d ever admit it - People like Peter Nureyev never get jealous (until they do.) Juno can do what he wants, when he wants, with who he wants. It doesn’t get in the way of their mission objective, the grand plan, so why should it matter?
(It matters.)
Juno’s laughter when he returns is like the sweetest Gallifreyan candy, and Peter wants that all for himself. Maybe that’s selfish, but he’s unable to make himself care. He thinks sometimes he probably deserves to be selfish - but those thoughts are the ones he tries to file away most of the time.
Eventually though, he can’t deny it anymore. The envy, the curiosity, the anxiety.
He corners Juno after a particularly long absence, and tugs him into the nearest broom closet.
Why their self-cleaning space ship has broom closets, he’ll never understand, but the thing is empty except for a stack of blank papers neglected on a steel shelving unit. He doesn’t bother checking for bugs because they’re finally past that point. He thinks he maybe trusts Buddy; the others are growing on him.
He doesn’t care if they know this at the very least. It’s not like it’s something that’s easy to hide.
Before Juno can even let out a squawk in protest, Peter’s mouth is on his and he remembers that Juno not only sounds like Gallifreyan candy, but he tastes like it too. He relaxes instantly into the kiss, tugging the taller man closer and wrapping his arms around his waist. His guards were always up before, but now -
Peter doesn’t know how they manage to fit together so perfectly; mismatched as they are, but somehow they always do.
They pull away all too soon, both giddy and a little breathless. “You know how to make a lady feel like they’re home,” His grin is a little sweeter than his usual, and Peter falters under his gaze as he so often does.
“I wasn’t aware that this broom closet was your home,” he attempts humour, but Juno just scrunches up his face and sticks out his tongue. His mouth is still a little swollen from their kiss (brief as it was) and Peter indulges himself momentarily by kissing him again.
This time, a little more desperate. He swipes his tongue along Juno’s lower lip, pressing their bodies together as he grabs at Juno’s (soft, curly) hair, unable to hide his smirk as Juno whimpers on reflex. Juno’s hands are a little timid, as he reaches up to caress Nureyev’s face but they’re warm and soft and wonderful.
“Not that I don’t appreciate it,” Juno finally manages to get out, “but what’s with trying to shove your tongue down my throat all of a sudden?”
Peter’s heart drops. “Should there be a reason?”
“No,” Juno says slowly, “but you’ve always had one before.”
Peter supposes Juno has always been rather perceptive. He sighs deeply, and considers his options. They’d made a promise. Honesty. Peter rarely kept his promises, but he thinks he’d like to change that now.
“I’m scared.” He admits softly, finally, his eyes trained on the ceiling as he does so. He’s still almost nose-to-nose with Juno, and so can practically feel the look for confusion on his face.
“Of what?” Peter refocuses on the weathered crinkles around Juno’s eye as he stands in front of him. It's sharp, but far from uncaring. His expression is soft, concerned. Like he too is afraid Peter will leave if this conversation goes a little awry.
He bites his lip, an admission of vulnerability that he’s not used to showing, before finally saying “of whoever you love more than me.”
At that, Juno’s face twists into confusion. “If you mean Rita,” he begins slowly, before Peter interrupts.
“I mean whoever you keep leaving us to see.”
And then Juno pulls away. Peter is suddenly gripped with actual terror. He thinks that Juno might just leave or punch him, or laugh in his face, but instead Juno has positioned himself so that he’s looking Peter directly in the eyes. His own is glassy with tears, but still so, so bright.
“Do you trust me?” he says quietly, with every bit of kindness he can probably muster, and Peter’s heart twists dangerously in his chest. It’s not what he was expecting, that much he can admit to himself. But the question is so loaded. So complicated. There were so many easier ones - do you think about me? Dream about me? How badly do you want me? Do you even care? How long have you loved me, and how many lifetimes will you love me from here?
Those aren't the question.
“Do you trust me?” Juno’s voice echoes in his mind as he slips into memories. Of their meeting, and their subsequent time apart. Of being one step ahead, and then in time with each other. He thinks about saving the world, and letting Juno save him. He thinks about almost losing Juno and how the reality had been worse. He thinks about missed connections, and flowers and heartbreak. He thinks about all the mistakes me made in the months they spent apart, and of the mess that led him back to Mars and into Juno’s life again.
He considers the last four months. Waking up every morning, and knowing that if he slipped out of bed and into the communal dining area, he would most likely find Juno shovelling something into his mouth, whilst Rita flicked salmon-ohs at him with a low giggle as Vespa scowled at them from the corner. Peter would join them, and Juno’s entire being would light up and they’d spend the day pulling stupid faces at each other, and laughing at private jokes and pretending they weren’t purposefully brushing up against each other. They’d go on missions and dress up and pretend and only half of that was spent with Peter holding himself back from leaving over and giving his life away to Juno.
Because that was it, wasn’t it?
He thinks about his debts, and everything he’d done leading up to this moment in the ridiculously redundant broom closet - everything he’s done for Juno Steel.
He thinks about the family he finally has, and the reason why he has them.
“More than anything,” he finally confirms, and Juno nods, pressing their lips together once more before pulling away with a small sigh.
“Then c’mon. We’ve got a trip to make.”
The moment they’d pulled up at the place, a sick kind of relief had washed over Peter, because of course.
Of course.
Juno has led him down a weathered brick path, past a dozen flourishing trees and finally stopped in front of a small grassy enclave.
Here lies Benzaiten Steel.
His smile is engraved in our hearts forever.
Of course.
Juno had knelt on the stone, a small frown marring his otherwise perfect features. The marker was covered with a small thatch of honeysuckle and it was this that Juno fussed over for a minute before sighing. “There’s a damn cat or something that keeps trying to eat or pee on the stuff, because every time I come here, it’s ruined.”
Peter thought he perhaps purposely wasn’t looking at him, and wondered what he was supposed to do in this situation.
Eventually, Juno stood up, and dusted off his billowy skirt. His voice was gentle when he eventually spoke, “I brought somebody to meet you, Ben.”
He gestured towards Peter, and his smile was once again dreamy, soft. Peter stepped over cautiously, and Juno grabbed his hands and entwined his short fingers with Peter’s longer ones. “This is Peter, I’ve told you about him.”
“It’s. It’s nice to meet you,” was all Peter could manage, and Juno hummed softly and squeezed his hand. They stood swaying together for a few moments, before Peter shifted, wrapping his arm around Juno’s shoulder. Juno leaned into him, breathing in deeply before taking the opportunity to speak once more.
“As much as I don’t want to be here, part of me will always belong here. With my brother.”
Peter was suddenly overwhelmed, because he knew. He understood. He knew what it was like to be a thousand miles away from part of your heart that lived in the past. But he also knew what it was like to love again. To have somebody hold your heart in their hands and to trust them not to break it.
Because he’d done that, hadn’t he? With Juno? Now here Juno was, giving him his own in return. Trusting him with the piece of his heart that he kept here in secret. Maybe the rest of it, too.
Juno was speaking again, and Peter forced himself to listen to the words. There was time for pondering later.
“When I realised that. That.” he stuttered over the words, but pushed through, “that I loved you, I wanted the two of you to meet. But then everything happened and I didn’t know. I didn’t know where that left us and now. Now I think I know.” He smiled at Peter before concluding, “I think he would’ve liked you too” and Peter was filled with a warmth that felt like electricity on Alkatrovia.
He had no meaningful way to respond but he found himself absentmindedly digging through his pockets, pulling out a small stack of birthday candles and a lighter. He sat gingerly on the ground, as Juno followed, a curious look on his face. “I always come prepared,” he mused, “although not completely. You do still manage to surprise me, Juno”
They lit the candles, and sat quietly in Benzaiten’s presence, watching the flickering lights as the sun hung lower and lower in the sky.
“Do you mind if I tell you about him?” Juno asked, every word carefully measured. “I think it’s only fair, since he knows everything about you.”
“Not everything I hope,” Peter replied with a tinkling laugh, and Juno rolled his eye and failed to hide a smile as Peter added “I would love nothing more.”