Work Text:
December:
Andy is in the house when Nile and Booker get home from the grocery store, boots on the table and coffee in hand.
"We have a job," she declares. "We'll need the whole team for this one. Quyhn is picking up Joe and Nicky from the airstrip."
Nile drops the grocery bags and rushes to hug Andy despite the awkward angle.
"Andy, it's so good to see you, even with a sour face." Nile kisses the top of her head, and Booker grins at Andy.
"Don't look at me like that, boss. I am not Nile's keeper." Booker puts away the groceries before everything starts to melt. "What job?"
"Adoption fraud," Andy spits out.
It's always worse when there are children involved.
"Which kind?"
Nile looks up at him, eyes wide. "There are kinds?"
Even almost four years into her immortality, she is surprised with the depths of human depravity. Booker wonders if he was ever that trusting, that green.
"Stealing orphans, promising them to desperate American couples with too much money, demanding ransom for their delivery." Andy holds out her coffee, and Booker tips some whiskey into it from the bottle on the fridge. "End-to-end evil."
"Wasn't that an episode of Leverage?" Nile asks.
"Probably," Booker says. "It was a well-researched show. Do we have a specific client?"
"It's complicated. I will explain more when Joe and Nicky arrive, but we have been hired by one victim to take down the operation." Andy downs the rest of her coffee. "Copley has the details."
Nile tugs her up for a proper hug, Andy's hand on the back of her neck and arm around her waist.
"Better?" Booker asks from his spot rearranging the produce drawer.
"Better." Andy returns to her idle sprawl. "Get to work, Book. The boys won't be here in time to cook."
Nile pulls the leaves for the table out from under the couch and starts to set it for six.
"I was already planning on cooking, you harpy."
"Lord knows I can only cook enough to survive." Nile laughs. "Ask Booker, I nearly killed him with my pasta sauce."
"Even immortals get E. coli, apparently," Booker says solemnly. "We have discussed food safety since."
"You were born before the germ theory of disease," Nile argues. "You don't get to be high and mighty about food borne illness!"
"You were born after it, ma sirène. What is your excuse?"
Booker deserves the apple she throws at his head, the dull thud of fruit barely audible through Andy's cackling.
"Don't get it twisted, Old Man. I know more about biology than you do."
"Your first degree was in it, and I have focused on other studies."
"You've had two hundred years to pick up a textbook, baby. You've read every other book on the planet." Nile slides behind him to put on another pot of coffee, kissing his cheek and grabbing his ass on her way by.
"I will add it to my reading list, then." Booker stops washing vegetables long enough for a real kiss. "Anything to make you happy."
"You two are worse than Joe and Nicky," Andy grumbles. "Public displays of affection are obnoxious."
Nile laughs. "Joe and Nicky are nine hundred years into their relationship. Book and I have had sixteen months."
"Joe and Nicky invented love, or so they say." Booker grins. "We intend to perfect it."
Andy crosses the kitchen to punch him in the arm, and Booker decides he's never happier than when he is bracketed by his favorite women on the planet.
...
There is a whirlwind of hugs and jokes and languages when the others arrive, until finally they land at the table for dinner and a briefing.
Andy walks them through the details of the job, ending with assignments.
"Because this agency is both illegal and bigoted, they only take straight married couples," Andy says with a sneer. "Otherwise, I would vote Joe and Nicky. Instead, Nile and Booker will be going in. It might be a long job."
Nile squeezes Booker's knee.
"Isla and Sébastien Martin, then." Nile shrugs. "We should pass a background check no problem."
Booker has to wrap his mind around the idea of adopting a child with Nile. In all reality, it's an impossible idea, but God if it isn't an appealing one. She deserves every opportunity in the world. Her first death came so young.
When he looks up, Andy is watching him. He forces a smile, and her brow furrows.
"It will be easy enough," Booker says, kissing Nile's temple. "The character of a besotted husband is one I play well."
"It's easy when you aren't acting," Quyhn teases. "What about the rest of us, Andromache?"
Booker zones out while Andy discusses the other placements. Nile raises her eyebrows at him.
"We good?" She whispers.
"We're good." Booker will tell her his worries later, with fewer people around.
Immortal family or not, some things are private.
...
The New York apartment is small, tiny compared to the Sierra safe house back in Surrey. It's even tiny compared to the beach house at Cap Coz. The small size is giving Nile trouble as she tries to hide their weapons.
"You know I'd be happy anywhere in the world, so long as it's with you, my love." Booker slides a gun case under the couch. "I can already tell New York is going to strain that resolve."
"You're a mess," Nile says, a case of throwing knives in one hand and a Beretta in the other as she kisses him. "Help me, please. You're better at making places feel homey and safe at the same time."
"Centuries of practice." Booker takes the gun. "Put the knives in the coat closet, on the shelf behind the wig boxes."
The M9 goes in the kitchen cabinet closest to the door, behind the pots and pans. It's not ideal, but it will have to work for now.
When they finally settle on the couch, Booker pulls Nile's feet into his lap to rub them.
"It's nice to be settled. Andy will come do a sweep to double-check tomorrow." Nile sighs happily and stretches her toes. "Thank you, baby."
"I have one more thing for you, ma sirène." Booker pulls the ring box out of his pocket and sets it on her abdomen.
Nile opens it and gasps, eyes wide.
"Bastien, you didn't. Oh, it's beautiful!" Nile holds the ring up to the light. "I love it."
Her favorite engagement ring was lost with one of her fingers in a particularly nasty job. He spent the last two months finding a perfect one.
"She is a lucky woman," the sales clerk said.
It's her third engagement ring, but this one is his favorite to date. The diamond is set in a golden buttercup, beautiful and unique, just like Nile. It's also an antique, just like Booker.
"I am a lucky man."
Nile slides the band off and holds the new one out to Booker.
"Would you do the honors?"
Booker slides her new ring and the band onto her finger and kisses the back of her hand. It's tradition, now. Booker has to give in and pull her into his lap so he can kiss her once, twice, a dozen times.
Nile cards her fingers through his hair, freshly-done nails setting him on fire.
"When this mission is over, take me back to the beach," Nile says, voice husky and warm. Booker would happily drown in it. "Nicky can officiate, and then we can kick them all out for our honeymoon."
"Deal." Booker melts into her kiss. "Dibs on Andy for best man."
"I'll make Quyhn maid of honor. Joe can be flower girl, and Copley can be the ring bearer."
"I like the way you think."
Nile wraps her arms around his neck.
"You should take me to bed," she says, kissing his jaw, his cheek, his lips. "We have an apartment to christen."
Heat coils in Booker's gut as he (carefully) stands. Nile wraps her legs around his waist, and he nearly drops her when she bites his ear.
"Menace."
"You love me." Nile giggles. "Am I distracting you?"
"Always, ma sirène."
They finally make it from the couch to the bed, and Booker attempts to lay Nile down gently. She tugs him down to sprawl on top of her.
If Booker could live in this moment forever, he would be happy in his immortality.
...
January:
Booker is tired of New York.
He longs for the countryside of the Guildford house, the rocky beach of Cap Coz, the rolling hills of Joe and Nicky's villa, literally anything besides endless steel and glass.
He's especially tired of working in the minuscule apartment while Nile makes friends with some of the other women that the agency is taking advantage of.
Isla and Sébastien have plenty of money, which gives Nile the wiggle room to find social capital in the shops and the bars and whatever else.
Booker perks up like a dog when his phone rings with Nile's latest number.
"Yes?"
Nile giggles, a flighty, empty thing that means she's pretending to be drunk.
"Hi, honey, I'm just calling to let you know I'm going to be out late. The girls insist on one more bar, and then we're getting dessert."
"Take your time, my love. Whatever makes you happy. I will be home, waiting for you."
"You spoil me, but I've got presents for you too." Nile clears her throat, slips into French. "I figured some shit out, lots to talk about."
Then, in louder English, "I married a Frenchman, of course I speak French, Leigh Anne! Wouldn't you like to know how to talk dirty in more than one language?"
"I look forward to your return. I will be awake when you get back, yes?"
"Yes, please. Okay, I've gotta go before Leigh Anne finishes the pitcher, love you."
"I love you, too."
The apartment is too small and too quiet when Nile hangs up. Booker puts on one of her playlists to fill the silence, one with lots of Frank Ocean and calming music.
He sinks into his research head-space. He's close to a breakthrough on the sourcing end of this bullshit, following the money through countless servers and offshore banks. If he can narrow down where they're getting the kids from, Andy and Quyhn will be able to get there faster.
When Nile gets home, Booker is still on the computer, blue light glasses perched on his nose.
(They were a Christmas present from Nile. Andy mocks them endlessly, but Nile was right. He has fewer headaches this way.)
"Hey, baby, you're still up."
"I told you I would be."
Nile kisses him on her way to the bedroom, heeled boots clicking.
"I've had a good day. Lots of connections, lots of information, and lots of nice things to add to my closet."
"I have also gathered information. I have not shopped today, however."
"That's because you haven't left the apartment in days." Ominous rustling comes from the bedroom. "Tomorrow we have our third interview, remember? Do you remember how to be a human in public?"
"I think I can manage."
When Nile emerges, her red wig has been traded for one of her many scarves, and her dress has been replaced by a cream silk robe. Booker closes the laptop and sets it on the coffee table, arms open.
"Is this one of my presents?" Booker asks as she sits sideways in his lap. He wraps his arms around her waist, enjoying the warmth of her in their drafty apartment "This new robe, driving me to distraction."
"I bought it with your card, so technically it's your present for me." Nile pulls out her phone. "I need to send this audio to Copley, then I'm all yours for the evening."
"What did you discover, ma sirène?" Booker rests his chin on her shoulder. "Progress?"
"I have the name of the ringleader. It kept coming up in conversation, and finally I made the connection." Nile scratches his head with her free hand as she scrolls.
Booker has had a phone since they invented the damn things, but he will never be as good with one as Nile.
"Ykaterina Edmonds," he reads. "Wait. Kat, our contact with the agency?"
"Exactly. Apparently Isla and Sébastien's file interested her enough to handle us in person." Nile sends her findings to Copley. "It's the money."
"It's always the money."
"I never had it, growing up. Now, I think that was almost a good thing." Nile removes his glasses and kisses him. "We needed stability, but excessive wealth leads to corruption."
Booker's hands fit comfortably on her hips when Nile straddles him properly.
"You should pick a project, my love. Somewhere to spend your growing wealth." Booker gets distracted by her lips on his neck. "I have libraries all over the world. Andy funds scholarships. Joe and Nicky fund queer youth organizations."
"I'll have to think about it." Nile kisses her way back up to his lips. "For now, I just want to chill. Tomorrow is gonna be chaotic as hell."
...
Booker would die a thousand deaths to see Nile smile with a baby in her arms.
"Hi, baby girl. Hello. Lookit your little bitty hands, oh my goodness. You're so strong. You've got a good grip, don't you?"
The child is tiny, barely three months old, light brown skin standing out against Nile's dark brown arms. Booker forgot how small babies are, how perfect their tiny hands look wrapped around an adult finger.
"She's perfect." Nile's smile is watery. Booker watches her heart break and heal and break again. "So little. Seb, baby, look at her."
The name reminds him of the mission, of the purpose of this whole ruse.
"I'm looking." Booker does his best to keep his attention on Ykaterina even as he melts. "I can't imagine looking away."
Nile's smile is intoxicating. She will never get to be a mother, and Booker curses the universe on her behalf.
"She has backup waiting outside for when she takes the baby," Nicky says in Booker's ear. "This baby has been through four interviews already."
She's so new, to have survived so much.
"Do you think that this baby will fit your family?" Ykaterina says, sickeningly sweet. Booker wants to kill her, wants to take the baby and run, but he can't. Not yet, at least. "Of course, we have some more paperwork to process before you have full custody of little Jamila here."
Joe is cursing in Arabic over the comms, talking about stealing refugee babies for American parents. Booker couldn't agree more.
"Seb, you should hold her. I'll look at the paperwork with Kat."
Nile passes Booker the baby before he can argue. He finds himself with an arm full of warmth, tiny hands grabbing for his fingers instinctively.
"Hi, honey," he whispers. "Hi, baby girl."
Booker hasn't held a baby on purpose since the Great War. He forgot how good they smell.
Jamila starts to whine, and Booker soothes her on instinct. He hums something from deep in his memory, something his wife sang to his boys.
"Oh, Booker." Nicky sounds sad.
Booker allows himself this brief respite.
"What do you mean, we can't finish the adoption today? You have all our paperwork now." The stress in Nile's voice snaps Booker back into focus. "We've given you all we have."
"Now, Mrs. Martin, surely you understand that additional costs add up."
Booker holds Jamila securely to his chest with his left arm, so he has his right hand free. Jamila gives up on his fingers with a whimper, but she's too sleepy to fight him on it.
"What is the problem, my love?"
Ykaterina simpers, and Booker imagines her headless.
"Mr. Martin, I was just explaining that there is an additional charge to finish filing the paperwork. We cannot finalize the adoption until the transfer goes through."
Booker looks down at the innocent child in his arms.
"We don't have more money," he finally grits out. This is the whole point of the mission, but he doesn't want to let the baby go. "I don't know what to tell you."
"I will take her back to her foster family, and you can gather the rest of the required money. Once you've wired it, we will meet back up, and Jamila will be yours."
It's a damn lie, and Booker wants to claw her eyes out himself. Instead, he holds tighter to the baby.
"What if we foster her? Until we get the money?"
"I'm afraid it's not possible with an international adoption. She has to leave with me, today."
"Stay on task," Joe warns. "We have to find where they're keeping them."
"How much longer do we have with her today?" Nile asks, lip trembling.
"I can give you ten minutes," Ykaterina says. "After that, we will return to the foster family."
Joe calls the woman a devil in every language he knows. It is an impressive list.
Nicky, on the other hand, just growls under his breath.
...
The "foster family" is a warehouse in New Jersey. Nicky tranqs the driver of Ykaterina's van so he doesn't have to use bullets around the baby.
Nile drags Ykaterina out of the back, and Joe grabs Jamila and her car seat.
"Hello, little one, hush, no crying, not now." Joe takes the baby to safety, shielding her from Nile and Booker's path into the warehouse.
"Why is it always fucking New Jersey?" Booker asks, kicking aside a corpse to get to the computer.
"Everything is legal in New Jersey," Nile says, clearly quoting something Booker doesn't recognize.
"You'll never get away with this," Ykaterina yowls in Russian. Booker regrets ever learning the fucking language.
Once they've used her to log into the computer, Nicky puts her out of their misery. In this line of work, you learn quickly that some death is necessary to make life worth living for others. None of them have patience for schemes that include children.
Booker downloads the records as quickly as he can, trying to get as much information as possible before the inevitable arrival of actual law enforcement.
"Andy and Quyhn found the right place," Booker announces. Sometimes the old way really is the best. "Time to get the kids home, or as close to it as possible."
They bundle everyone into Joe's van and head for the closest airstrip that owes Andy a favor.
Jamila is crying, her seat snug between Booker and Nile. Nile holds one tiny hand and Booker the other, murmuring soothing nothings until the baby falls asleep.
"We'll need to feed her," Booker says softly.
"I brought supplies," Joe says, nodding toward the back. "We will be able to care for her until we get her to a proper organization."
"None of us have had a baby since the forties," Nicky says. "This will be interesting."
Nile raises an eyebrow at Booker.
"There were a lot of revolutions in 1848, which means many casualties," Booker explains. "Joe and Nicky fostered war orphans for a while."
"Right. That forties. Jesus." Nile sighs. "I wish we could keep her, Bas."
"I know. Trust me, I know." Booker leans over the car seat to kiss her cheek, careful not to jostle the baby. "She deserves more than we can give her."
Nile nods, eyes watery. Booker resolves not to take a case involving children for at least a year.
"I'm thirty, Book. I thought I'd have a kid by now," Nile admits. "Adopted, even if I didn't have a partner. I know I have time, but…"
"It still hurts," Nicky says from the front seat. "It will always hurt. You have to channel the energy, cara. And, occasionally, foster war orphans when you can."
…
By the time they finally get Jamila and the other stolen orphans to a charity that can help them, all of the guard have taken at least a half-dozen bullets, save Andy.
Even Andy has a wound, a bullet through the meat of her leg. Nile and Quyhn carry Andy back to the van, much to her protestations.
They split up at the airport, Andy and Quyhn to Istanbul, Joe and Nicky to Marrakesh, and Booker and Nile to New York to wrap up loose ends.
"Cap Coz in a month," Booker tells them all as they hug goodbye. "We're getting married, so pack something nice."
"I assume you will want me to officiate?" Nicky asks, a rare genuine grin on his face.
"Yes, Padre, if you can dust off your book of sacraments for us."
"I would be honored, brother." Nicky squeezes his arm. "In English, no?"
"English, yes please. Or half-and-half English and French," Nile says, joining their conversation. "No Latin, if at all possible."
"I will adapt what I have to fit our family," Nicky says. "Joe might write something."
Nile lights up. "I would love that so much. Bits of the whole family in our wedding."
"One month?"
"One month. I don't care that it will be a February wedding and cold as fuck, I want to make this as official as we can." Nile wraps her arms around Booker's waist, fiddling with her ring against his side. "As soon as humanly possible."
"I feel the same way. I would do anything to make her happy."
"You do that by existing," Nile says.
Booker's heart aches in the best possible way.
"Okay, you saps, get your ass on the plane before they leave you,:" Andy calls out, breaking up their moment. "I'm too fucking injured to put energy into emotions right now."
Once they're settled in the shitty plane that's taking them to a decent Transatlantic connection, Nile falls asleep with her head in Booker's lap. He rests his hand on her shoulder, fingers nudging her pulse point to reassure him that she's still alive.
If Nile wants to, he could foster a baby. It's an impulse he hasn't felt since his first death.
Then again, if Nile asked him to lasso the moon, he'd at least try.
"Thinkin' too loud," Nile grumbles, entwining their fingers. "Sleep, Sebastien."
Booker sleeps.