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“Nicky.”
Nicky shakes his head, nose brushing along the shoulder seam of Joe’s shirt. He sees the drying blood on Joe’s back, and even though he squeezes his eyes shut, he can’t hide from it. The metallic tang of it poisons the air.
“I only need a moment,” Nicky says. His fingers tremble at Joe’s waist, where he’s bunched Joe’s shirt in his fists. It’s wet in his palms.
They are too far from their hotel. Too far for Joe to shower and change, or be safe in the cover of Nicky’s arms and their blankets.
They have to continue the mission. There are people to save and villains to stop.
He knows this. He knows, and yet…
“A moment,” Nicky whispers into the skin at Joe’s neck. “Only a moment.”
Joe cradles the back of Nicky’s head with a hand. “You don’t need to explain,” he says. “Not to me.”
When behind him, Andy says, “We have to keep moving,” Nicky knows his moment has come and gone. He forces his fingers to uncurl from Joe’s shirt. He kisses the shell of Joe’s ear, then moves to step back.
Joe tugs him forward and their lips meet. It’s chaste and quick, but fills Nicky with renewed strength as if Joe had breathed it into him.
Joe traces his fingers over the edge of Nicky’s cheekbone. Nicky turns into his hand to place a kiss to his palm.
Only Joe can restore him. Anchor him.
Another breath, and Nicky steps back. He looks into the depths of Joe’s eyes, sees the overflowing love, and knows, “I am ready now.”
He will let no more harm come to Joe this mission. One death is too many.
*
Nicky fulfills his oath, but at the cost of a knife across the stomach.
He’s bleeding out on the concrete floor, Joe’s hands the only thing holding him together. He’s healing, but he’s lightheaded and cold. He can’t tell if he’s healing faster than he’s dying.
“Nicolo,” Joe says.
Dying, then.
He opens his mouth to say Joe’s name, to tell him he’s okay and not to worry. The words drown in the blood in his mouth. Before he can spit it out, he’s crashing into darkness. He keeps his gaze on Joe until he can’t anymore.
*
When he gasps awake, alive, he’s held between a familiar pair of arms. His head is cradled to a strong chest with a steady heartbeat beneath.
“Joe.”
“A moment,” Joe says, voice weak. He’s behind Nicky, speaking close to his ear. “I beg you.”
Nicky reaches. His hand snags on the crook of Joe’s elbow. He does all he can, tracing small circles on Joe’s arm with his thumb.
“We’re clear,” Nile says from above them.
Andy, beside her, taps her on the shoulder and motions for the exit. To Nicky and Joe, she says, “When you’re ready, we should leave.”
Joe’s arms tighten. His fingertips press into Nicky’s skin.
“We will be safer at the hotel,” Nicky says. He’s speaking to Andy, but it’s for Joe’s benefit. “We can clean and eat and…” He leaves the rest unsaid. Joe will know.
Slowly, Joe releases him.
When Nicky has full range of motion again, he turns toward him. He runs both hands through Joe’s curls and coaxes him forward for a kiss, soft and chaste.
When they break, Joe looks brighter. The color returns to his face.
“The hotel, then,” Joe says. He takes one of Nicky’s hands and does not let go, even as they help each other stand.
Even as they sit together in the backseat of the car on the return to the hotel.
Even in the shower, as they help each other clean away the blood and the fear.
Even later, in bed, as they stare at each other in the dark.
Nicky holds on, too.