Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sometimes fate has a way of getting in your face, even when you want nothing more than for it to fade into the background. Being aboard the ship with Nureyev definitely felt that way. I’d still felt bad about the last time I’d seen him. When I’d left. Until our first mission together I could tell myself that we didn’t have to be more than colleagues, but then we started talking. It was… nice, hearing him talk. The fact that he wanted anything to do with me at all still surprised me a little, but we were working on whatever it was we were. It was going roughly as smoothly as I could have hoped, all things considered.

I was trying to organize the papers scattered on my desk when heard my door beep. I took a deep breath and walked over to the door, pressing my palm into the gentle blue glow of the sensor. The door slid open, revealing Peter Nureyev looking… Well, looking far too nice for this. It had been a long day. I looked like a mess. It wasn’t fair. His eyeliner was sharp, his lips a deep maroon, and his hair perfectly coiffed. Looking at him made me feel underdressed, even though it was my room and it’s a lady’s right to just wear a turtleneck and some sweats in his own room if he feels tired.

“I believe you said you’d rather our check-in tonight be in your room, detective?” Nureyev looked down at me, a hint of a smile on his lips, looking far too tall. He was wearing stilettos, the bastard.

“I… Ah… Yeah. Come on in.” What was I thinking? Nureyev hadn’t come to my room yet. I’d tried to clean up, but Peter’s room was immaculate. I couldn’t hold a candle to it even without all the papers strewn about my desk and living room that I’d tried to make as presentable as possible as I relistened to the notes I’d recorded from the day and thought about what Nureyev had said last night. I hadn’t quite finished moving all the papers back to my desk from my coffee table, and from this angle I could see a tissue that I’d dropped under a chair but hadn’t seen. ,God damn it. Way to make an impression, Steel.

I gestured to the couch and vocalized a small offering, and Nureyev sat down on the couch and crossed his legs at the knee, looking at me intently. I looked back at him blankly for a second, trying to figure out what to say.

“I believe you offered me a nightcap, Juno?”

“Right. What would you like? I took the liberty of taking a few bottles from the kitchen so we could have some privacy.” My hands were already back in my pockets, thumbing over a loose thread I’d found in the corner of the right pocket. “I remember that you don’t like whisky, but I’m not actually sure what you do like.”

“I would love a martini, if it wouldn’t be too much to ask. Vodka.” I hadn’t expected that answer, but I did have the ingredients. I always pictured Nureyev drinking something, I don’t know, fruitier? Like something with juice or soda or maybe wine. I didn’t mind, though. I could make a martini in a pinch.

As I took down a glass from my cabinet, I could feel his eyes studying me. They were like a laser grid, mapping the topography of my back as I pulled out the bottles. “Stirred, not shaken, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“I’m not an idiot— Wait. Someone made you a shaken martini?”

“Quite a few times, regrettably. It’s a tradition of some sort on Earth, but it simply ruins the vermouth.”

“But why?”

“I have no idea. I simply try to avoid it and hope it doesn’t happen again.”

I was already most of the way done mixing his drink, but I could feel the way his eyes bored into my back. What was his problem today? He seemed stiffer then usual, colder. I thought we’d finally gotten past that. I still felt guilty, but he’d told me not to worry. I wondered what happened. I hadn’t heard anything through the walls.

I handed him his glass as I sat down. All of a sudden, he wouldn’t look at me. What had I done? Had I said something? Did I do something? God Steel, you always mess everything up and you knew you never even had a chance to —

“Did you make those?” he asked, gesturing up toward the paintings I’d hung on my wall. They were small but detailed, I’d had them for years. Benten had made one of them and I’d made the other. Both abstract swirls of red and gold paint like a sandstorm on the horizon. From far away, they almost looked pretty.

“One of them, yeah. The one on the left.” Mine wasn’t nearly as good as Benten’s. He’d always had a knack for the gentle movements of the wrist required to paint. Mine was far sloppier, but more confident. It sure looked how I felt at the time. I’d tried to follow his instructions as best I could, but I could never hold a candle to him when it came to art.

“They’re beautiful. If you don’t mind me asking, who painted the other one?” I knew I should just tell him, but my voice got caught in my throat. Rita barely knew about Benten and… Sarah. I didn’t want anyone knowing about them, about what happened. But they were a hundred million miles away in a time long gone. It was behind me. I’d dealt with it. I knew that wasn’t how it worked; things were never that simple, but I still felt annoyed at the words caught in my throat. “Juno?”

Overthinking it was only making me feel worse. So, I did what I always do in times like this. I just said it. “Remember how I said I had a brother?”

I saw Nureyev’s eyes widen. “Oh, Juno. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—“

“You’re fine Nureyev.” I gave him a weak smile. “His name was Benzaiten. He was my twin brother, and a much better artist than I ever was. He always used to make me do stuff like this with him, though. He liked matching sets. I got rid of most of the stuff we made after he died, but I couldn’t throw these away. He set up a paint night to celebrate me getting into the academy.”

I looked down into my drink. Nureyev looked at me again, like he wanted to say something, but didn’t know what. Peter Nureyev, the man who always knew what to say, voice of silk and words like as sharp as daggers, was lost for words. I could only imagine what he was thinking.

“Juno, I’m—“

“Can it, Nureyev. I don’t need your pity.”

Nureyev leaned away from me, his back finally touching the back of the couch. His gaze had softened considerably, but I could tell he was still looking or something, sizing me up. And I hated that I liked it, being under his gaze like that. I wanted to let that gaze touch me all over and strip me bare, but I knew it wouldn’t happen. Not tonight. Not yet. I took a swig of my drink and looked back up at him.

“So, Nureyev, how are you feeling? I know I wasn’t in the job today? Based on the debrief, it looked like it went well.”

“To be honest, Juno, quite exasperated. My knee locked up as we were getting out of the vault. Jet had to carry me.”

They hadn’t mentioned that at the debrief. I didn’t know. What should I do? Juno, you idiot, think of something! The silence was getting too large. It felt like it was going to swallow me if I didn’t say the right thing.

I thought back to what Buddy had told me about things like this. What to say. How to help. “I’m so sorry. I can relate. How did it make you feel?”

“Terrified. More scared than I’ve been in years.” He took a large sip of his drink. He was already mostly finished with his, and I’d barely taken a sip of mine. He must have been rattled. More than he was even letting on.

I knew that Peter didn’t drink much. Even in places where the alcohol flowed like water from every tap, I’d rarely seen him take more than a sip or two of champagne. Stay alert, he’d always whisper to me as I grabbed a drink. That’s the first rule of thieving. I would usually ignore him and continue. I needed something anyway to take the edge off. Even after all this time, I still wasn’t used to parties like the ones we often had to sneak into as part of our cover. I could feel the opulence soaking oozing out of everything — everyone — and though I know Nureyev thrived there, I didn’t. I didn’t belong there, no matter how many times everyone told me I was good at that kind of job. I wished Buddy had been younger or we’d had better prostheses or something so I didn’t have to go.

“My body has never failed me like that before.” I was dragged back to the present, to an empty-glassed Nureyev with a hint of a blush on his face, stony-eyed and staring off into space. “I was always the only one I could count on. My accomplices have failed me quite a few times over the years. It was inconvenient, but not unfixable. I could usually find a way to weasel out. But it was never me, Juno. I was the one thing that never failed.”

He stared off into space, and all I could think about was how surprised I was that he was telling me any of this. A few days ago, it would never have happened, but since Zoltonova’s party, we’d been talking every night. I’m pretty sure people thought there was more going on, but there wasn’t. I wasn’t sure there would ever be. I’d come to peace with that fact. And I was okay with it. At least that’s what I told myself. Sure, I couldn’t stop thinking about the memory of what his lips felt like or how he still hadn’t changed his cologne and it was still equally hypnotizing or how every time he touched me my hair stood on end. But I was a professional and so was he. And that ship had sailed when I’d left him in that hotel room.

“I’m sorry, Nureyev. It happens to each of us eventually, and you’re right. It’s terrifying.” I wanted to keep talking, to tell him about all the times my body had betrayed me and let someone get away or gotten me in more trouble than it was worth. To try to comfort him that way, but I had learned that though he’d listen, it didn’t really help him when I did that. Instead, I reached out and touched his shoulder. “You can rely on us. And if you need a few days I can try to talk to—“

Nureyev looked up at me like he wanted me to shut up, so I did.

“Would you mind mixing me another?”

“Isn’t that a little much for you?”

“I’m a grown man, Juno. I know my limits.”

The next chunk of the evening went on like that, trying to dance around each other and stepping on each other’s feet, trying to change the subject and drinking. We got closer as the night went on. We always did. Neither of us was very good at expressing how we felt with words, but being able to sit there with his head in my lap as I played with his formerly-coiffed hair was nice. I felt safe. If he didn’t, he sure wasn’t letting it show. After a while, we just sat there in silence. His eyes were closed and he smiled a little. He looked peaceful, almost innocent. It was nice. It was one of those moments you want to stay in forever because everything feels right. The world continues around you, but it doesn’t matter, like life is on pause for the night.

Then he started giggling. It came out of nowhere and it didn’t stop. It was surprisingly deep and throaty. In that moment, I realized I’d never heard him laugh before. I knew I wasn’t particularly funny, but it struck me as odd.

“Everything ok down there?”

Peter grinned up at me, his sharp teeth shining up at me. His whole face was in that smile, even his eyes. He looked up at me.

“I’m perfectly fine, Juno. Great, in fact.”

He had been blushing for quite a while now, probably from the four martinis he had me make, but the way he was looking at me my face hot. He was adorable like this. He closed his eyes and leaned the side of his face into my stomach. I was sure there was going to be a stamp of his makeup left in my shirt when he pulled away, but he was warm, so I let him stay.

“I’m spending my Friday night with my head in a beautiful lady’s lap and for once I don’t have to act.”

“What?”

“I spent my entire twenties charming socialites out of their jewels, Juno. I’ve been in situations like this a thousand times, but I never really imagined that I’d be in this situation with no ulterior motive. And with someone so handsome.”

“Woah, Nureyev, you don’t mean that last part.”

“Don’t I? Juno, you’re the most beautiful lady I know.”

“Nureyev.“

He looked up at me, mischief in his eyes. “What? Am I not allowed to pay compliments to the beautiful man hosting me in his quarters?”

I sighed. “Fine.”

“You know, I missed you.”

“Huh?”

“I missed you when you left. I’d had a feeling you were going to, but I wanted to let myself believe you wouldn’t. I was a fool. For you.”

“I… Uh…”

Peter sat up, putting a perfectly-manicured finger to my lips. “Shhh. I wasn’t done.” His words were lilting more now, not quite slurring, but not quite his usual clipped annunciation, either. “I woke up and you were gone and I was devastated. And I couldn’t file it away. I’m very good at that. Extremely good in fact.”

“Nureyev, you don’t —“

“Shhhhh Juno. I tried all week to put you behind me, but I couldn’t. You got under my skin in a way no one ever has. So, eventually, I actually went to a bar where I knew I would at least be able to get a few thousand creds out of people’s pockets if the night didn’t go well. Next thing I knew, I was on a trans-galactic flight on the arm of some older woman with five hundred thousand creds worth of black diamonds in my bag and no idea what my name was. I’d told her my name was Caesar Amir.” He laughed. I looked a him, seriously worried but knowing I wouldn’t be able to stop him. “Caesar Amir, Juno. I messed up my own name generation technique. It was obviously fake, but she didn’t seem to care. She was only using me to get back at her husband, anyway.”

As he kept talking, Peter got closer to my face. I could smell the liquor on his breath. He was going to be a hung-over mess tomorrow. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Why was he telling me any of this? I didn’t want to know this. I already felt guilty enough without hearing him talk about his alcohol-fueled bender that I’d caused. I knew I’d caused enough messes in my life to really mess things up, but I never expected to get to him. He seemed unflappable most of the time. I guess he really had been in love with me. Oh god damn it.

I looked up just in time to notice him lean in to kiss me, and though it took every ounce of willpower in my body to do so, pushed him back by the shoulders. “Nureyev? What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I… I thought that was obvious, Juno.” Peter looked a little taken aback. His face flushed. He looked down and hunched into himself a little. “I’m sorry. I thought you felt the same way.”

“I… Nureyev, that’s not the point! You can’t just tell me about something like that and then go in for the kiss like that. It’s manipulation! If you think I’m going to put up with that, from you of all people, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Peter breathed a soft, “Oh,” and had shifted away from me to the other side of the couch. His makeup was smudged on his left side, and his eyes were focussing on something far away. “I’m sorry.”

I leaned in toward him. I hadn’t meant to be so loud; it just sort of started. He curled into himself, bringing his knees up to his chest. I reached out, and he shrunk away. He wouldn’t look me in the eye. I kept my distance, but faced him. I took a deep breath.

“Nureyev, I don’t want our first kiss in a year to be while you’re drunk.” He looked up at me, his eyes wide. “I don’t want to be a drunken mistake. You’re going to wake up in the morning with one hell of a hangover, and I don’t want to have to tell you through a grumpy stupor that we kissed.” I didn’t add in the fact that I didn’t know what I would do if he kissed me. I knew what he did to me, and I didn’t want that liability. I didn’t want him to get hurt again. I cared about him too much.

“You…”

“Yes.”

“And you…”

“Yes. When you’re sober enough to know that you really want to do this.”

I could see him thinking, trying to calculate something somewhere behind his drunken exterior. Then he leaned in and placed a kiss on my cheek before resting his head on my shoulder.

“You’re a good man, Juno Steel.”

“I’m really not, but I try,” I sighed. I put my arm around his shoulders and rested my nose in his hair. I had a lot to think about, but all I could focus on were the smell of his cologne and the weight of him on my side. It enveloped all of my senses.

It was bittersweet. I just wanted to be closer to him. To be able to hold him and tell him it would be ok. That this time, I would be there tomorrow. We both would be, and that everything could work out. But I didn’t know if he would remember any of this in the morning. I didn’t know if this was just a spur-of-the-moment thing or real. I would have to find out the hard way when day came, and I didn’t want it to come. I could already feel the shame that the light of day would shed on this. It was genuine and I felt calm even though I could feel my heart in my throat. Even if it didn’t work out, I could still protect him now.

“Thank you, Juno. For putting up with me like this.” I looked down at him, confused as anything. “It’s nice to know someone cares about me like this. I don’t believe I’ve ever had a confidant before.”

“Nureyev…”

“Do you mind if I stay?”

“Huh?”

“I’m not sure my legs will let me get to the door, much less to my room.”

“Ok. I’ll take the couch.”

“Juno, you don’t have to—“

“I know I don’t. I want to. Now let’s get you ready for bed, then.”

If you’ve ever carried a large squid, you’ll know how hard it was to manage Nureyev’s limbs as I carried him to the bed. It was a short distance, but he was a good six inches taller than I was. Having him cling to me was nice, but I was so afraid I’d drop him. He was surprisingly light, all things considered. It was nice to have someone hold on to me like that. I liked being able to protect him, even just for tonight.

I rested him on the bed and had him sit up against the headboard as I cleaned the makeup off his face. He was too tired and drunk to be embarrassed, tired and drunk and beautiful. His big, black eyes and his tousled hair and his wrinkled shirt. It was a kind of messy I’d never seen him before. It was adorable. He looked at me intently with a mixture of innocent bliss and a deep want. With him looking at me like that, with the trust I hadn’t seen in his eyes in a year like he knew I would take care of him, it felt like carrying a baby bird. I was so afraid I’d drop him or my hands would be too rough and I’d hurt him. But his eyes showed that trusted me enough for the both of us.

When I was done wiping the last of his makeup off, I kissed his forehead. I gave him a something to sleep in, a shirt that was far too big for me but barely passed the waistband of his underwear, and I went to go change in the bathroom.

I looked at myself in the mirror and let out a long sigh. He had been wearing underwear that barely covered him. His ass looked amazing. He’d had a plan tonight when he came here; I knew that much. It shook me to my core. Did he think that’s why I’d asked him to come here? Was he just going to try to sleep with me again? Just like that? We had barely been in the same place for a week. It had been a year. So much had changed since I left him in that hotel room. Was that why he’d gotten so drunk, to work up the nerve? I splashed some water in my face to steady myself.

When I came back in with a glass of water for him, Peter was laying down on his stomach with his chin resting in his hands, grinning at me. I didn’t even want to know what he was thinking about, but as put the glass on the bedside table, he looked up to me and smiled to himself. I couldn’t resist. It was like secrets in the schoolyard, or at least how streams made them seem. My school growing up didn’t have a yard so much as a parking lot with a tree in the back corner. I played along, despite myself.

“What?”

“You like me, Juno.”

“What’s new about that?”

“Youuu liiiiike meeee.”

“Ok, it’s time for you to go to sleep.”

He pouted, looking at me with those big, black eyes that would swallow me whole if I wasn’t careful. He sat up and reached his arm out. “Will you come sleep with me, Juno?”

“Nureyev, you know I can’t—“

“Please.” It took every ounce of willpower in my bones to shake my head no. It was wrong. It would look bad. I didn’t want to say no. Every cell in my body was pulling me toward him, like it always did. “Will you at least sit with me until I fall asleep?”

I resigned myself to his request. I couldn’t say no anymore. I gave myself that small concession. It was harmless enough, I thought. I turned off the light and walked back over to my bed as pulled the covers over himself. I grabbed the water again.

“Drink this. It’ll help with the hangover you’ll have tomorrow.” I handed it to him, and he put the metal cup to his lips, drinking slowly and deliberately, like he was focussing too hard on not spilling it. He still managed to look graceful, somehow, in the low light. The gentle bob of his Adam’s apple, the rise and fall of his chest, his long, dark eyelashes. I wanted to reach out and touch him. He was beautiful.

When he finished, he handed me the glass and wiped his mouth with a graceful hand. How was he still so graceful when he was drunk? I was usually a mess, but he still managed to maintain an air of grace, as long as he didn’t open his mouth. That much was entirely new for me. He usually had just the right words for everything. I wondered what he was thinking.

He curled up next to me, his head by my thigh. I could feel his gentle breath on the skin of my leg. I reached down and pushed his hair behind his ear. He pressed his face up into my hand, murmuring something to himself in a language I didn’t recognize. I kept smoothing his hair as he fell asleep. He looked so peaceful in the low light. I felt his breathing shift as he dozed off and stood up gently, making my way over to the couch. I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to sleep after all that.

Sometimes things just sort of fall into place, but they usually don’t. It’s more like the universe is lobbing rocks at your head like a schoolyard bully. Some of the rocks might be pretty, but most of them come at you by surprise, and if they hit the right way, they hurt. Sometimes, someone will come over and help you, but most of the time you just have to try to hide and then assess the damage after. I spent such a long time trying to run up to the universe and sock it in the eye that I’d gotten more than my fair share of bruises and welts and broken bones. But all it did was hurt the people around me, so I was trying to change that. And maybe tonight was the first time I’d done it correctly.

Chapter Text

I awoke feeling like I’d been hit by a train. I knew I’d had a few drinks last night, but I wasn’t sure what had happened after that. I hadn’t been that drunk since...

I winced. I could hear music blaring from somewhere else on the ship. It was something poppy and electronic — probably Rita’s — the kind of thing I would have adored if it weren’t for the way it felt like it was drilling into my cranium. I wanted to go back to sleep, but it was too loud, too bright. I grabbed a pillow and put it over my head.

All of a sudden, I was overcome with a familiar smell, something I missed dearly. Why did my pillow smell like Juno? Then I noticed the soft flannel of the sheets. These weren’t mine. I detested heavy sheets. Was I in Juno’s bed? Had I worked up the nerve last night to finally..?

Thinking that hard, that quickly, hurt. I heard a groan, and realized it was my own. If I was in Juno’s bed, where was he? Had he realized again that I was a mistake and run off? Left me again after another beautiful night together?

To be fair, I didn’t remember the prior night. I was confident at my skills in bed, but, none the less, I was a little sad I didn’t remember it. He was probably on his way to tell Buddy that this was all a mistake. Just as I was beginning to acclimate to this crew, I had to go and mess it up. A pity, really. I may as well make my way back to my room to start packing my things, even if I felt like I’d just woken up from a stun blast.

I sat up, squinting and groping for my glasses. I finally found them on the bedside table and put them on. It was far too bright, and I could feel the Carte Blanche’s engine vibrating in my skull, but I moved to the edge of the bed. I realized I wasn’t wearing pants. They were draped over the edge of one of the chairs by Juno’s couch. I didn’t think it was odd at the time in my hung-over stupor, but looking back it should have been a glaring cue that what I had thought happened had not. I silently slipped on my slacks, tucking in Juno’s shirt so that I didn’t look like a complete slob, and fixed my hair in the reflection in the glass cabinet. At least I’d remembered to take off my makeup before falling asleep.

Where were my heels? I saw the silver boots glinting next to the couch. I walked over to get them, when I was confronted by the image of a sleeping Juno. Why was he on the couch? This morning was becoming weirder by the moment. What had I done last night?

He looked so peaceful like this. The last time I’d seen him sleep was in the Martian tomb. Back then, he’d looked equally peaceful as he slept, but he was barely skin and bones, emaciated and fragile beneath tattered clothes. Now, he looked radiant. His body had filled out again, regaining the blocky musculature and soft curves he’d had when I first met him on that day so long ago. He was still beautiful, and I wanted to reach out and touch him.

But then my head started to throb from standing and focusing and I began to feel extremely fatigued. I couldn’t stand to stand any longer. I laid myself out on the carpet and covered my eyes with my shirt, letting out a whimper as I felt the pressure in my head mount like it was going to explode. The floor was cold, nice against my skin, oddly comforting.

Then I heard a rustling. It was so loud. Why was everything so loud?

“I see someone’s up.” I let out a groan in response. “And just as hung over as I thought you’d be.”

“Juno, would you please be quiet?”

“Says the man laying on my bedroom floor.”

“Juno.”

“Fine. Let’s get you back in bed though.” I could see his shadow over me through my eyelids. I squinted my eyes open. Juno’s hand was reaching down to me, his lips pulled into a cocky smile. He was enjoying this.

With a huff, I reached out and let him pull me up. I felt light-headed and like my head had been filled with lead at the same time. Juno wrapped an arm around my waist to steady me and we walked slowly over to the bed. I laid back down gingerly, so as to not cause myself any more discomfort, but I could hear Juno snickering to himself. The nerve. After what we’d done last night?

I heard the water running in the next room over and Juno’s heavy footsteps approaching me. “Sit up, Nureyev.”

I turned over and pulled a pillow over my head to block out the sound and the noise.

“Come on. This will help.” I sat up, grimacing as I felt the blood rush from my head once more.

“Would you at least mind turning the lights off?”

“Oh.” he handed me a glass. The lights dimmed and the pain subsided a little. I sighed.

“Drink up, or this hangover won’t go away. I’ll go grab you a coffee. Two sugars, right?”

Finally, some manners. “Three.” My voice was hoarse, scratchy in a way I wasn’t used to. I took a sip of the water I’d been given. It felt awful, sliding down my throat, but I knew Juno was right. Dehydration would be my downfall, especially now, so I kept taking small sips until I’d finished the water. I already felt a little better, better enough to think.

What exactly had happened last night? Juno’s sleeping on the couch made no sense to me. I couldn’t quite fathom why he would do that if we’d... spent the night together. I felt a crinkle in my pocked and slipped my hand into it. We hadn’t used the condom I’d brought. So that answered at least one part of the puzzle.

Juno interrupted my train of thought by reentering the room, two mugs of coffee in hand. He sat down on the bed and handed mine to me. I took a sip. He hadn’t put in enough sugar.

“So... uh... last night was interesting.”

I could feel myself tense up reflexively. I still wasn’t sure what had happened, but I was surer and surer it was something I wouldn’t like. “Quite.”

Juno squinted at me. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. Not knowing what I’d done, I could only assume the worst, and the thought filled me with shame. I took another sip of my coffee.

“Do you even remember what happened, Nureyev?” I looked down into my mug, meeting my reflection’s eyes in the too-bitter coffee. I didn’t want to answer affirmatively, lest he think I’d done something as reckless as I assumed I’d done on purpose, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth.

Then he started laughing. It hurt my pride, and my aching head, a little, but it was worth it. His laugh was warm, comforting, familiar, even if it was aimed at me.

“Oh my God, you don’t remember!” I could feel my ears heat up as he continued, trying to stop himself but snickering as I sat there in trepidation.

“No, Juno, I don’t. Did we..?”

“Oh God no! I wouldn’t— I mean, I— not while you were— but I— Nureyev, I—“

“Well that’s good to hear, at least.” Juno sighed, reaching out to touch my shoulder and asking with his eyes. I nodded. “I thought I’d made a complete fool out of myself.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say you didn’t,” Juno chuckled. I looked at him intently now.

“What did I do?” I asked. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know the answer, but not knowing and making things worse was the only thing worse than the shame of knowing what I’d done.

“I mean, you mostly got drunk off your ass and giggled at me. But then you started telling me about, well... about what happened after I left. And you tried to kiss me.”

I stared at the blanket in front of me in shock. I hadn’t meant to do that. I never would have done that under normal circumstances. I knew Juno had a way of making me into a fool, I knew I’d had a hard day, but I couldn’t imagine myself telling him that. I hadn’t even wanted to remind myself about that.

“I apologize. That was inappropriate. It was just a spur of the moment thing. I can assure you, it won’t happen again.”

Juno let out a sad “Oh.” I looked up at him. I wasn’t expecting that.

“Juno, I—“

He met my eyes with his big, emerald eye. I knew it could consume me whole without so much as trying. I swallowed. He took a deep breath.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to, ok? It just felt... wrong in that moment, I guess. You weren’t yourself. I didn’t want you to have to be drunk to want to… do that. With me.”

I knew Juno had changed a lot in the last year, but this caught me off guard. Talking so glibly about how he felt was not something I knew him to do. Even over the last few times we’d talked, with a concerted effort on both our parts to say what we had gone through, what we were feeling, both of us had still tried to dance around it. I was terrified at how quickly I’d come to trust him again, how quickly I’d let myself lean into his touch. I wanted him to hold me in that moment.

I realized I hadn’t said anything in response yet. My head was swimming with confusion and adoration and shame and something else that I couldn’t quite place. I could feel something welling up inside my chest. It hurt. I leaned my head down to rest on the back of his hand that still rested on my shoulder and kissed his knuckles.

“I don’t have to be.” My voice came out smoothly, quietly, but it felt like a weight was crushing my chest. I was dizzy. My head throbbed. I wasn’t sure whether it was caused by my nerves or the hangover. I was scared. I couldn’t look up at him. That eye of his would lay me bare and I wasn’t sure I could take that. I felt Juno relax his grip on my shoulder.

“Nureyev,” he breathed, “I thought that was why we were talking in the first place. To figure us out. What we are. What any of this is.” I knew he was gesticulating like he always did, but my eyes were closed. I couldn’t look at him. Not yet.

“I know, Juno. And I’m trying. I’m not exactly experienced at this, and I’m terrified. Terrified that I’ll make a fool of myself, that I’ll scare you away, that I don’t deserve any of this. I’ve only just been realizing how I felt myself, and that, too, is terrifying.” I chuckle to myself, despite the throb of my head when I do it. “I thought it might make things easier, might break the ice, might get me out of my own head long enough that you could understand what I was feeling without having to say it. But I see now that that was wrong. Please forgive me. I’m very new at all of this.”

Juno squeezed my shoulder again. I desperately wanted him to pull me closer and hold me, but he kept his distance. “That’s all you had to say.”

I looked up at him again. The look on his face was softer now, less intense, almost wistful, with his lips pulled up slightly on the left. I didn’t know how to respond, so I just looked back. I let myself fall into his gaze, tried to make how I was feeling clear, even if I did not yet know how to articulate it. Every fiber of my being told me to run out the door, take the Ruby 7, and never look back.

I put my mug, empty now, on the bedside table and pulled Juno into a hug. He let out a small, surprised noise, but wrapped his arms around me too. I leaned into his shoulder, breathing in his smell, like vanilla and warm leather and sand. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel scared. I could feel that despite all the growing he’d done, he was just as terrified as I was. This was a new territory for us both.

I let the moment continue. I knew that after this came the hard part again. I didn’t want it to end. Juno was warm, and his arms felt strong, familiar as they held me. I didn’t remember the last time I’d let someone hold me like this. Not in earnest, anyway. I felt something inside of me break, that last little chain holding on to my insistence on solitude. This was so nice, so warm, so safe. I felt like I wanted to cry. I wouldn’t, of course. I wasn’t sure Juno or, for that matter, I could handle that. Instead I pulled him tighter, pressing our chests together. I could feel his heartbeat through his chest and I slowed my breathing to synch up with his.

He loosened his grip a little and took a breath like he was getting ready to speak, but I beat him to it.

“Juno, I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you, to make you feel like you could ever be a mistake to me. You’ve changed so much, and I was scared. I tried to put my feelings away and move on, but I just couldn’t. No one has ever gotten under my skin like that before.” It felt weird to say that out loud. In a way, it acknowledged a truth I didn’t want to be. “I’m not used to opening up like this. I’ve been on my own for so long.”

He pulled away from me, letting his calloused hands trail down my arms. He waited until I raised my eyes to meet his. “You don’t have to be alone anymore. Not if you don’t want to be,” he whispered.

Before I knew what was happening, I was crying, sobbing but trying to keep it quiet. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying. I’m sorry, Juno you shouldn’t have to see me like this.” I rubbed my eyes, thankful that I was not wearing mascara. Juno moved his hand to my cheek, wiping away the tears that continued to fall.

Through the tears, I could see him looking up at me. He looked afraid, like he didn’t believe I could cry before I’d started. There was a small amount of helplessness in his eye, but beyond that there was something deeper, more steady. He just sat there silently and let me cry, wiping some of my tears away with one hand until I stopped. I let my breathing even out, grounding myself in Juno’s palm. I started apologizing, only for him to cut me off.

“Look, Nureyev, it’s ok to cry. You don’t have to be shy around me.”

“But Juno —“

“I’m scared too. I’m terrified. I’m amazed you still trust me after… Well, after what I did and a part of me is telling me you never will and this whole ‘talking about my emotions’ thing is good, and I know it is, but it still freaks me out. I’m still not used to it.” He lifted my chin so I was looking at him. “But you can’t do something like that again. I can’t… I don’t think I can deal with that again. I want to be able to make this work, whatever ‘this’ is and we can’t do that if I can’t trust you to just talk to me.”

I promise him I will. I’ll talk. I’m trying not to store my feelings away, but I have a whole warehouse full of files to read. And though I know talking is my strong suit most of the time, I can’t think of anything else to say. All I can do is look into his eye and resolve that I’ll be better.

I’ve existed in the company of others for most of my life. Granted, who they are usually changed every few weeks, and I’ve spent most of the past 18 years hopping from planet to planet without leaving a trace. I’ve had my fair share of experiences, sure. I lived a young man’s dream, jumping from lover to lover, party to party, heist to heist, until I’d made a name, or lack thereof, for myself.

In the beginning, I thought Juno would just be one of those fleeting memories, a sweet night in Hyperion City. That was my initial aim, anyway. He’d charmed me, and I him, but something about him, something about the earnest way he talked or the way he was willing to do whatever it took to save those who he cared about, made me feel safe. He still made me feel that way, despite everything.

I knew that I would be able to change if I wanted to. I knew that all I needed was for him to be there with me, and for the first time in a long time, I let myself trust that he would be.

Chapter Text

I’d recorded myself six times after Nureyev left, trying to figure out what to say. Every single one of them was full of mixed metaphors and declarations of things I hadn’t known were true until they’d left my mouth and so many words. Words that meant nothing and words that meant everything, but words that could never really hit what I was feeling. Every time I listened to the recordings of myself, I could feel the off-ness of it. Each time I had gotten closer, sure, but there was still something that just didn’t sound right to a point that was infuriating.

I wondered why I even bothered trying to use words if they never really worked. I know I use them all the time. If I’m talking to myself, then I don’t have to deal with the visuals, which is perfectly fine with me. But now I’m wondering if I’ve ever gotten carried away with their power, ever let myself follow a train of thought so far that I hit delusion. Ok, I know I had — with Diamond, with O'Flaherty, with the free-domers, with being a cop, with being a private eye, with… mom. I guess I just hadn’t realized that I’d done that before quite so many times. It was a little disturbing, if I’m being honest. Had I done that with Nureyev? Did I even know what I wanted or had I convinced myself that this was the only way to do it? How did I —

I took a deep breath. I knew I was spiraling and if I kept going I would go nowhere. What did I know? I knew I was Juno Steel, ex-brother, ex-cop, ex-sharpshooter, ex-private eye, current member of the Aurinko Crime Family. I was from Hyperion City, though I was far from it now and didn’t know if I even wanted to go back. I was an ok friend, a decent cook, a collector of bad art, a decent gambler. I’m a downer a lot of the time, but Rita likes to tell me there’s no lady she’d rather be friends with. I trust her. I have a tendency to be attracted to people who look like they could kill me and can talk circles around me and are far too good for me. I like sewer rabbits, despite their reputation. I can bluff, but I can’t really lie. I talk a lot or not at all. I wanted to make the galaxy a better place for a long time, but now I’m not exactly sure what that means. And I can’t get Peter Nureyev out of my head.

It had been two years since that first kiss and I still couldn’t do it. He’d really pressed all of my buttons while we were investigating Grim’s mask, and I’d fallen for him in a matter of hours. (I did that every now and then, if I was being honest. That’s how it happened with Diamond.) He had continued sweeping me off my feet when we were trying to get on the Utgaard Express, even if he spent half of it scaring the living hell out of me. He had taken care of me in the tomb when we would be thrown into our cell, trying to stop the bleeding with tender hands and what little he could steal from the guards, telling me it was ok, it would be ok. I had been inside his head so many times that sometimes I missed it. He had let me in, as much as I assume he had ever let anybody in. I hadn’t reciprocated, but he didn’t need me to. He just needed someone to trust, someone to know him, someone to be himself with. I was lucky enough to be that person.

We worked well together, he and I. We didn’t always communicate that well, but we generally understood. When the egg had gone off, he held me through my tears and the blood. He’d cleaned up my eye and drove me all the way back to Hyperion in a stolen car so an actual doctor could patch me up. That night felt so right, but also so profoundly wrong. The way he touched me — gently, as if my body was a relic — felt so wonderful and so, so terrifying. When he told me he was falling in love with me, I knew in that moment I was falling in love with him too, that I’d started to a while back, but I felt like I could never deserve him. Leaving was one of the hardest things I would never forgive myself for, no matter how many times he said it was ok. He was back now. I couldn’t leave now; I didn’t want to. I understood why he didn’t want to talk to me, why he’d been annoyed. I was glad we had been talking. Then last night happened, and it happened so quickly and… What did I feel about Nureyev now? Did I deserve him now?

No, that was the wrong question. It wasn’t a matter of what I deserved. For once in my life, I had to figure out what it was that I wanted.

I wanted to be with Peter Nureyev, however he would have me. I wanted to talk with him more, to explore who we could be together now. I didn’t know what I wanted for the future, but I knew that right then, I wanted to be next to him. What came next, I couldn’t know, but I knew what I wanted him to be there with me. That was all I needed to know.

I turned off my recorder for the seventh time that day. I didn’t even need to re-listen to it. I knew what I had to say. A strange sense of calm settled over me. It was so simple. I had only been padding it with words, tip-toeing around what we had to say. I just had to say it. It was that simple.

Buddy’s voice came over the loudspeaker, summoning us to the kitchen table. We had to go over everything for the next leg of our heist. After that, I would tell him.