Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“It’s going to bleed worse if you keep squirming like that,” Nureyev said, losing his battle against his sympathetic grimace.

“I’ll bleed however I like,” Juno grumbled, and squirmed, and winced.

“Not on my watch, you won’t,” Nureyev pressed. He tightened his vice grip around the former Sheriff and pressed a tight-lipped kiss to his forehead as Ruby continued to ride in the direction Juno had pointed them.

Peter Nureyev, formerly the thief without a name, currently the thief whose name belonged to one individual and one individual only, would have loved cradling Juno in his arms as the fire-red desert whirred by, though these circumstances were particularly unkind. The lady whom he had been courting had bloomed two gunshot wounds from his abdomen and leg like they were late-summer roses, and Nureyev feared he was inching closer and closer to becoming truly nameless once more.

“Honey,” Juno sighed. “I—“

“God help you if you ‘honey’ me right now,” Peter choked. “I need you to hold yourself together until we get to this contact of yours.”

“Nureyev,” Juno murmured, seeming to forget they were already mid-conversation.

“I’m right here, Juno,” Nureyev tried to return in a manner that wouldn’t give Juno any cause for alarm, but he had a feeling his throat had closed too tightly over the first few words and a bit of his soul poured from his lips when that lovely two syllable sonnet of a name left him.

It didn’t help that Juno looked, for the first time since Peter had met him, truly bad. His skin shone with what looked like a thin sweat of fever, though Nureyev knew it to be borne from pain. Even with his head thrown back and his teeth bared in a wince and his hands clawing at Nureyev as if having something kind to dig his nails into might somehow alleviate his agony, Peter couldn’t help but feel he looked beautiful. Somewhere, under all the pain that had reached into Nureyev’s chest and torn his heart asunder, there was a noble cheekbone and a sharp eye and a smile that flickered like candlelight on a windy evening.

Nureyev’s fierce urge to die or kill to protect this person stabbed him in the back with the cool blade of realization that there was absolutely nothing he could do to make any of this better.

If there was one thing Peter hated more than seeing his beloved in such a state, it was being unable to do anything to actually help. Yes, he could continue to steer the horse towards this unknown contact of Juno’s, but he couldn’t actively do anything to ease his partner’s pain.

Instead, he held him tight and kissed his forehead and prayed that might do anything at all to help him.

“Almost here,” Juno hissed, words shattering into a gasp when a change in terrain sent him crashing back into Nureyev.

Peter didn’t mind. He was sure his shirt was long past repair, though he wasn’t sure he could stomach looking down at the stains Juno’s wounds had already left. He forced his eyes onto the little town drawing nearer because it was something to move towards. Nureyev had a feeling it would just about break him if he was forced to dwell.

“Should be a little yellow place. Just follow the barking. The dog hates horses, so she’ll woof,” Juno explained, though his words had turned to incoherent mumbling.

“You’re not making sense—“

Nureyev was cut off by a resolute woof from a little yellow house a few feet to his left. Apparently, Juno was less incoherent than he seemed.

Peter decided that he had probably dropped his pride somewhere in the desert on the race here and all but fell off Ruby’s back. He didn’t particularly have time for decorum when the jostling had yanked a pained groan from Juno’s throat.

Nureyev didn’t have a free hand to knock on the door, so he kicked it instead. He nearly dropped Juno altogether when he saw the face of the person who greeted him with a shocked and all too familiar look.

He had clever eyes and a structured cheek and a smile like coming home that Nureyev thought he would have known anywhere, but as he glanced between the bleeding person in his arms and what appeared to be his mirror image in the doorway, Peter was becoming less and less sure. The longer he looked, however, the more differences he picked up. The person in the doorway bore a ring on his left hand and had a slightly less broken looking nose. He was also dappled with far fewer scars, and most notably, had a second eye.

“Get inside,” he said in a voice that was just different enough from Juno’s to tell them apart for certain.

Nureyev didn’t have it in him to argue, hurrying through the doorway and depositing Juno on the nearest couch. He couldn’t remember when he sank to his knees or began to squeeze pathetically at Juno’s hand, but he knew for certain he hadn’t truly processed his moment of unabashed panic until Juno had pressed their connected hands to his lips.

“Benten,” Juno tried to say, but rather, groaned. “Get your sorry ass over here.”

“I’m trying, Super Steel,” the man, apparently Benten, returned as he rushed back to the couch with an armful of medical supplies. “You think I’d just take my time where you look this bad?”

“Just because you got the looks—“

“We’re twins,” Benten snorted as he began to ready some sort of cleaning agent. “Who’s the new man?”

“Peter Ransom,” Juno sputtered out while squeezing Nureyev’s hand half to death. “Light of my life and all that.”

“Always were a romantic,” Benten muttered, trying to force a teasing tone into words soured by his focus on his work. Nureyev could tell he was mostly trying to keep Juno distracted as he checked over the injuries and prepared for a far more painful job.

“How are you—“

Nureyev felt his heart stop when he was cut off by the sound of a shuddering groan. Juno’s jaw was clenched and a vein protruded from his forehead, though perhaps, the most palpable mark of his agony was his vice grip on Peter’s hand.

“Juno, darling, I’m going to need use of my hands,” he all but gasped.

“You didn’t get shot,” Juno grumbled.

“He’s got a point.”

“God, I’m going to have to put up with two of you now, aren’t I?” Nureyev sighed. Juno tried to laugh, though it erupted from his chest in a wiry, hysterical gasp.

“Not unless this goes well,” Juno winced.

“Don’t say that,” Ben shut him down before Nureyev even had the chance to do so himself. “This is gonna go fine.”

“I got shot. Twice. We’ve been over this,” Juno pressed.

Benten rolled his eyes and turned his attention to Peter, even if he continued to work at cleaning Juno’s injuries.

“Peter, right?” He started. Nureyev nodded. “What happened?”

“We—“ he began, then paused, words having turned to sand in his throat when he looked down at Juno’s contorting expression for a moment too long. “We had just escaped from a bank heist and were camped out a day’s ride west of Hyperion. I was expecting all to go well from there, but there was an ambush by some of his former deputies. I made it out in one piece by playing dead, but I’m afraid Juno wasn’t so lucky.”

“Piece of shit McKinley ratted,” Juno wheezed.

“My love, if it’s hurting you to talk, I promise, you can spare your words for tomorrow,” Nureyev assured him with a kiss to the forehead. “I hate seeing you hurt. Don’t make it worse on my behalf.”

“Love you,” Juno murmured.

“My God, you’re losing more blood than I thought.”

Juno gave his arm a weak smack.

“By that, I mean I love you too,” Nureyev added with a smile that he hoped looked less terrified than he felt.

“Keep him distracted. This is gonna hurt like hell,” Ben grimaced.

Even with some kind of pain medicine Nureyev would rather never see the ingredients label for, Juno took far too many minutes to lose consciousness. Peter tried his best to keep him, at the very least, comfortable the entire time, running his fingers along his scalp in little circles and doing his best not to complain when Juno held his hand so tight he could hardly feel his fingertips.

“Is he going to be alright?” Nureyev heard himself say when finally it seemed the storm had passed.

“If he stays off of it for a while, he should be,” Ben returned, yet to tear his shaky, unblinking gaze from his brother. “I’m gonna guess you know how he is, though.”

“Stubborn as a child in a grocery store?”

“That’s my brother for you,” he managed with a faint, albeit strained laugh. “I’m gonna go wash up. You stay right where you are. Just because we don’t sleep in the same bunk bed anymore doesn’t mean Juno’s getting out of here without me interrogating his new man.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Nureyev assured him, though he doubted he could if he wanted to.

Juno was always fitful when he slept. The unnatural soundness of his state, while completely logical, was abnormal enough to strike a pang of fear into Peter’s chest. As if it might do anything to help, he continued to draw an invisible patch of swirls and circles and lines against Juno’s scalp, and pretend it wasn’t, almost literally, putting a bandage on a bullet wound.

Somewhere a room or two away, he caught a few strains of a whistled song Juno would occasionally let loose when cooking breakfast or when he thought he was alone. Benten whistled it a little higher, humming any notes he couldn’t reach as he audibly scrubbed his brother’s blood off his arms.

Nureyev had some vague idea that he might do the same, but the stain had already begun to turn a russet brown on his shirt and he doubted there was much more he could do to save the fabric. Instead of washing up when given the chance, he stood, swung a leg over one end of the couch, and perched there, a silent guardian to his injured lover below.

If he expected anyone to walk into the room, he expected Ben, or perhaps that dog he had heard barking mere minutes before. He did not particularly expect a new man to waltz through the door, hat pressed to his chest.

“Honey, I’m home!” He cried with a smitten grin that melted like ice cream in Hell when it turned upon Nureyev. “You’re not my husband.”

“I’m not,” Peter agreed.

“Why are you in my house? And why is Juno dying on my couch?”

“I’m afraid you might not believe me if I told you.”

Chapter Text

“Okay, so run this by me one more time,” the man Nureyev had learned to be called Mick Mercury began. “You and Jay Jay are a couple.”

“Yes.”

“And you two robbed a bank together?”

“It wasn’t a particularly good bank,” Nureyev began to protest from the chair he had been all but marched into. He made an attempt to stand, but Ben caught him by the shoulder and fixed him with the kind of quietly dangerous look Nureyev decided it was best to avoid seeing twice.

“I knew he said he wasn’t Sheriff anymore, but—“ Mick paused, brow furrowed. “Did he have some kind of crisis?”

“No,” Peter returned. “He was wrongly imprisoned a town or two over, I broke him out, and we ran through a little cycle of life debts and reparations until he decided he didn’t need an excuse to care about me anymore.”

“Aww,” Mick grinned for a moment, before jumping back into his overly serious interrogation. “That might be cute. Really cute. But how do I know you’re not lying?”

“I always get that question,” Peter groaned. “You don’t know I’m lying, unless you want me to list off my encyclopedic knowledge of Juno Steel, which I’m beginning to think might be missing a few pages, given I didn’t know he had a twin brother.”

“What?” Ben interjected from the counter at which he was beginning to prepare dinner.

“He doesn’t talk about you much at work, apparently,” Nureyev shrugged. “I’m more concerned that he didn’t tell me about this lovely dog of yours.”

The dog, recognizing that she was a dog, and more importantly, a dog who was the topic of conversation, thunked her tail against the cool patch of floor she had laid upon.

“I know you’re trying to change the subject, but that’s a really good subject to change it to,” Mick tried not to smile, while Ben fixed him with an all too familiar look somewhere between annoyance and affection.

“So this bandit stuff is work now?” Benten asked once Mick had returned his look with a half-sheepish, half-smitten grin. “I knew Juno wasn’t the Sheriff anymore, but his letters kept everything else a little vague.”

“If you’re willing to call me a business partner,” Peter shrugged. “Steel and Ransom might sound nice, but it is a bit on the nose for our crimes, unfortunately.”

“That’s nice and all, but why are you telling us this?” Ben asked.

Nureyev couldn’t help but notice that even the way he asked questions sounded different than the lady currently passed out in the guest bedroom. Juno had a habit of asking every question like the answer might make or break the fate of the world.

“I don’t know how much of this you’ll believe if you’re truly that suspicious of me. Juno tried to arrest me within a day of meeting me. It’s safe to say he doesn’t trust quickly. If he’d be willing to put his life in your hands, I can only assume them to be capable.”

“Aww, thanks,” Mick grinned.

“And if that’s not enough, you two are currently harboring a pair of fugitives. It wouldn’t exactly be in your best interest to go running to the Sheriff, now, wouldn’t it?” Nureyev added.

“There’s not a Sheriff here,” Ben returned. “Town’s too small. They just kind of assume we’ll all break the law and dish it out amongst ourselves. Closest we’ve got is Buddy Aurinko, but that’s just because she runs the saloon. Anyone who can sell you a drink out in Cerberus is bound to be the richest person in town.”

“And is she?”

“Are you looking for a target or are you just curious?” Ben snorted, not too different from his brother.

“Any name I’ve heard before from the mouths of fellow thieves is one worth asking about,” Nureyev returned, then added, “And if you want a hand with dinner, I might as well offer now.”

“That sounds—”

“I’m gonna have to pass until I get to know this guy a little better,” Ben cut Mick off. “Buddy Aurinko runs the watering hole up the road, but I’ve heard a thing or two about some kind of underground business of bandits. Apparently she’s in the market for a new hire or two, which kinda makes sense now that I think about it. Let me tell you, a job offer is not what you’d usually expect from having a twin brother wanted dead or alive across the state.”

“You’d think they could count eyes,” Mick sighed as he strolled over to the counter, grabbed a cutting board, and began to help Ben with dinner. “Speaking of which, God, I hate onions. This is gonna suck.”

“I can cut them if you want,” Ben offered.

“Let me chivalrous or something for once, okay?” Mick sniffed before he could even sink his knife into the vegetable.

“You’re cute,” Ben grinned.

“Yeah,” Mick choked, the waterworks starting after one slice. “Keep asking Peter stuff or this is gonna get really embarrassing for both of us.”

“So what about that encyclopedic knowledge of Juno Steel you mentioned?” Ben pressed on, but not before rubbing a consoling hand against Mick’s shoulder.

“What do you want to know?” Nureyev returned. “Can I stand up? You’re making me terribly nervous.”

“Fine, but if you run—”

“I’m not leaving until Juno can,” Nureyev cut him off. “Just tell me what you want to know, if it makes you feel better. I’m sure we could all use a little more of that while he’s still—”

Nureyev broke off to swallow. He sighed, blinked, gathered himself, and then pushed onwards.

“Recovering.”

“He’s going to be fine,” Ben returned with a kind of conviction Nureyev wished he could summon in his voice. “Just—I don’t know. Tell me about him. Your first date or something, I don’t care.”

“We—” Nureyev broke off, carefully sifting through which details to mention and which details Juno would probably kill him for revealing. “It was quite the occasion. I had bought him a specific suit when we robbed the Utgard Express, but—”

Mick choked on his onion-induced tears.

“That was Jay Jay?”

“More Juno than myself, I’m afraid,” he couldn’t help but beam. “And to think that was his first proper heist. He even outdid my own work. I would be embarrassed if it were any other person, but frankly, I don’t mind it so much if it’s someone like him. Do stop me if I’m getting sappy.”

“Nope. You’re good,” Mick sniffed.

“To my former point, there’s a hill west of Hyperion he mentioned a few times. He said it was particularly special to him, but never told me why,” Nureyev continued. “It was a few years ago now, but I packed a picnic, he wore that suit of his, and we hiked up and watched the sunset. It wasn’t much, but he seemed to appreciate it. He’ll kill me for telling you that, you know.”

“That’s the hill where we used to play as kids,” Ben laughed, half in disbelief. “Yeah, he’s gonna kill you for telling me that. He’s never living that down.”

“I suppose it’s been nice knowing the both of you then,” Nureyev returned. “Would you mind if I went to go check on my darling before he murders me?”

“One last thing before you go,” Ben started. He set down his knife and walked around the counter to face Nureyev, doing his best to look him in the eye. If it had been Juno, Peter might have made a crack about his height, though Benten seemed to wear those exact same feet and inches a little better. Besides, a knowing smile had started to dance on the corner of his mouth, and Nureyev would far rather learn its source than interrupt him. “What’s your intention with my brother?”

“Beg pardon?”

“You said your first date was a few years ago, and you seemed pretty upset when you brought him to the door. I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you’re pretty happy with him,” Ben pointed out.

“Quite happy,” Nureyev returned. “Why do you ask?”

“Planning for the future happy?”

“I haven’t asked him yet,” Nureyev sighed, slipping a hand within the pocket of his pants and retrieving a little jewelry box. “I was going to ask him after the heist, but, well, I suppose the Sheriff Department of Hyperion City got there first.”

“Oh,” Ben breathed.

“I’m never cutting onions again,” Mick sobbed.

That didn’t seem to be enough to put Ben off, as he crossed his arms over his chest and stepped a little bit closer, as if he were challenging Nureyev to a fight, rather than asking about his relationship. As intimidating as he was attempting to be, there was something undeniably soft about him. He had the kind of mouth that liked to slip into a smile, unlike Juno’s, which often had to be coaxed. From what Nureyev could tell, however, they grinned the same. He just hadn’t had the chance to see them do so side by side.

He felt his face fall at the thought of poor Juno, if not awake and in pain, certainly alone. Benten continued talking, which was enough to at least compartmentalize the thought away to some other file, albeit an open one nonetheless.

“And you’re gonna see it through?”

“Of course,” Nureyev replied, an eyebrow raised. “I wouldn’t propose if I didn’t want to be married to him. He’s—forgive me for my moment of weakness—perhaps, the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Just—” Benten broke off to sigh, then raised a hand to squeeze Nureyev’s shoulder. “Take care of him, alright? Don’t do anything to hurt him.”

“I would never—”

“I never said you would,” Ben cut him off. “He deserves the kind of person who wouldn’t. I really, really want you to be that person for him. I think you are, but I’m still gonna interrogate Juno before he goes. If he says yes, that’s his business. But it’s my business to keep him safe. Just ‘cause we don’t sleep in the same bunk bed anymore doesn’t mean I can’t take care of him.”

“I understand.”

“Has he told you about—”

“He’s told me enough,” Nureyev nodded.

Benten gave his shoulder a pat.

“I like you better anyway,” he snorted.

“I’d take the compliment, though I’m afraid that’s a terribly low bar,” Nureyev felt himself smile.

“I’ll try again,” Ben chuckled. “I think we got off to a bad start, but I’m hoping I can get to know you better at the wedding.”

“Is that your blessing?”

Benten shoved his shoulder, though his face had yet to melt from one of those easy smiles that bloomed far faster than those of his brother.

“Something like that. Go spend some time with him or something.”

Chapter Text

“Juno,” Nureyev breathed as he stepped into the guest bedroom, as if tasting fresh air for the first time in weeks. “It’s good to see you darling.”

Juno didn’t reply. Peter hadn’t expected him to, but his heart sank anyway.

It seemed Juno only slept soundly when knocked out. The rise and fall of his chest was as even as a marching drum, albeit slow and shallow. Out and in. Barely an inch of movement. He wore a pensive look upon his face even while asleep, and Nureyev felt a pained smile tug at his mouth. Of course, Juno of all people, would be mulling something over, even while passed out.

“Take your time,” Nureyev murmured while taking a seat on the mattress.

Peter jumped when he thought he heard a breath, though his pulse eased and his face fell when he realized the mattress had only groaned at the presence of another body in a bed that felt horribly cold nonetheless.

He wondered if Juno felt alone, wherever his head was. He didn’t know if that was possible, or if the twitching, engagement ring-born tumbleweed of nerves in his chest was just making his mind race. Either way, he reached a hand over and began to run his fingers along Juno’s scalp.

Nureyev didn’t realize he had exhaled until the shuddering breath left his chest. He let his fingers continue to run little circles atop Juno’s head, fixing any patches of hair that had gone flat against the pillows or fallen the wrong direction. Even if it wasn’t much, it was something to do. Perhaps Juno wouldn’t even notice, when or if he woke. Perhaps his work would soon be flattened when he lowered Juno’s head from his lap and back to the pillows once more. Peter decided it was best not to think about hypotheticals, though one thumb found its way to Juno’s cheekbone and stroked along a scar there, as if he might not ever have the chance to do so again.

“Beautiful,” he said to himself, unaware the word had even crossed the barrier between his mind and his mouth.

“You called?” Juno slurred out as he stirred.

“There you are,” Nureyev breathed. “I was starting to get worried that something was wrong with you.”

“Shut up,” Juno snorted. Even glassy-eyed and woozy and awake as he was uninjured, the lazy grin that slid across his face made Nureyev’s breath catch in his throat.

“No, I don’t think I will,” Peter chuckled. “You see, I’ve gone hours without my favorite petulant ex-Sheriff. It’s too much for a gentleman to bear, darling.”

“You’re a sap.”

“And it’s all your fault,” Nureyev teased, though his hands continued to rub their gentle little circles along Juno’s scalp. “I would have thought you’d be more tolerant of it. I wonder, do you give your brother this much trouble for loving his husband, or just me?”

“So you met them?” Juno asked, his weary eye shooting open. “Shit, what did they say about me?”

“Nothing you’ll be horribly embarrassed by,” Nureyev smiled.

“Did you—” Juno’s face darkened. “What did you tell them?”

“Benzaiten said you would kill me if you ever found out, so I suppose, if I hope to live long enough to see my partner for more than a few minutes this evening, I should rather not tell you,” Peter smirked.

Mere moments before, Juno had seemed the picture of weakness, skin a sickly tone in the low light and his face as rigid as a still life. He seemed far less so while making a squirming attempt to sit up and meet Nureyev’s eye. It was a fair bit less effective with Peter guiding him to a sitting position the way someone carries an overly full cup of scalding tea, but he still remained impressed with the fact that Juno could move at all.

However, it seemed that was about all the exertion Juno could take, for his back hit the headboard at Nureyev’s side and his head rolled back, eye squeezed shut and mouth agape in a bid for breath.

“Be careful, darling,” Nureyev reminded him.

His hand stretched into the air, though he had no idea of what it might do other than shorten that already tiny space between them. Juno made use of his offer and squeezed Nureyev’s fingers in his own, then drew the interconnected line of digits to his mouth for a kiss.

“Once I can walk again,” Juno panted. “When I can walk again, I’ll kill you.”

“That’s very nice, dear.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Juno tried and failed to say in a manner that wasn’t a laugh.

“You didn’t even hear what I told them, though now I’m worried if I do, one of us might die, and I doubt it will be me,” Nureyev chuckled.

“Was that a threat?”

“No, I’m just worried you’d throw one punch and end up on bedrest for a month.”

“Asshole,” Juno snorted. “What did you tell them?”

“Oh, just that you’re the love of my life, the best thing that’s ever happened to me—”

“Disgusting,” Juno laughed, though he laid his head upon Nureyev’s shoulder as he said it.

“That wasn’t even the worst part,” Peter grinned. “Apparently, you failed to tell me that your little spot up on that hill was a place you used to spend time with your brother.”

Juno’s eyes went wide.

“You didn’t tell them that we—”

“Of course not!”

Juno all but crumpled under his sigh of relief, which soon turned to a shaky laugh.

“God, this is embarrassing,” he wheezed. “I didn’t tell you my brother and I used to play there because I didn’t want you to feel bad about—you know—”

“I do know,” Nureyev chuckled. “I was there, and I will say, rather enjoying myself.”

“You’re the worst,” Juno returned, his grin and his eye roll walking across his face hand and hand. “Can I say something stupid?”

“It depends,” Nureyev considered. “Do you think you’ll regret it?”

“I don’t think so. My head’s not right yet, but I’ve wanted to say this for a while,” Juno replied. “And I wanted to before I went under too.”

Juno rested his free hand atop their laced fingers and turned his head, meeting Nureyev’s gaze with a weak little smile that made Nureyev’s heart do a flip in his chest. He couldn’t help but trace a few fingertips over Juno’s cheek and treasure the fact that it was his own hand that had the honor of doing such a thing.

“I think—” Juno broke off to shake his head. Nureyev’s hand fell away, but Juno caught him by the wrist and led his hand back up to cup his own cheek. “Keep doing that. I liked that.”

“I’ll keep it there,” Nureyev returned. “What’s this stupid thing you wanted to say? The anticipation is truly killing me, darling.”

“I’d really like to be married to you,” Juno blurted out.

Peter Nureyev had spent years perfecting just how to control his face under any circumstances. He had a different smile for every alias and one just for Juno Steel. However, it seemed his entire, nearly two-decade career as a bandit had yet to prepare him for the petty rage that drew his brow downwards when he realized his partner had beaten him to proposal by mere minutes.

“If you’re not comfortable with that, I—” Juno started, though his voice died in his throat when Nureyev cast his hand away to begin digging through his pockets. “What are you doing?”

“Damn you, Juno Steel,” Nureyev grumbled.

“Are you seriously mad at me for—”

“I had a speech planned and everything,” Peter sighed, and found that pretending to be upset was far too difficult when he came to terms with the fact that the hand in his and the finger around which he slid that gold wedding band was Juno Steel’s.

“Oh, you—” Juno tried and failed to stifle a gasp. “You bastard.”

“I was going to save it until you were a little more awake, but—” Nureyev found his excuse broken off by a kiss equal parts fierce and soft, his words gladly mumbling away into a sweet exhale when Juno wrapped his arms around his shoulders like he couldn’t think of anything worse than having to let him go.

“Guess you’re just gonna have to propose to me again,” Juno grinned when tragically, he broke for a breath.

Nureyev closed that half inch between their lips momentarily and felt particularly cruel for pulling away, even if it was just to wrap himself a little more tactfully around the bandaging on Juno’s otherwise bare chest.

“Will you let me do that speech of mine if I do?”

“Depends,” Juno chuckled from where his head had been pressed into Nureyev’s shoulder. “What else did you tell my brother?”

“You’re insufferable,” Nureyev huffed. “My insufferable fiancée.”

“I kinda like the sound of that,” Juno grinned. “You think you could help me up enough to tell my family the happy news?”

“Darling, I don’t think I can let you walk on your own,” Nureyev considered.

“You’re just trying to get me in bed, aren’t you?” Juno snorted.

“You were shot, Juno.”

“That never stopped anybody.”

“Twice.”

Juno rolled his eyes, but reluctantly parted from Nureyev’s embrace to make his way to the side of the bed. He glanced around for a shirt that wasn’t there, instead reaching for Peter’s duster and pulling it around himself like some kind of blanket. Nureyev felt his heart clench at the sight of Juno all but drowning in his coat, and took far too long in making his way to the other side of the bed to help Juno to his feet just so he could get a better look for longer.

“Do you think you can stand on your good leg?” Nureyev asked when he finally arrived at Juno’s side.

“I might be able to,” Juno said, though his words were as shifty as his wince when he tried to stand.

“I’ll take care of it. Arms around my neck, love,” Peter instructed.

He picked Juno up with only a minimal wince that Juno returned in kind. Once he had finished bringing his face back to a neutral state, he found that his fiancée had caught the expression.

“We’re getting too old for this,” Juno chuckled.

Nureyev leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head, then, with the creeping suspicion that one or both of his arms might fall off if he didn’t find somewhere kinder to deposit Juno soon, pushed through the door and back into the common spaces of that little ranch house.

“He’s awake!” Nureyev called.

“Jay Jay!” Mick tried to exclaim and dab at his eyes with a handkerchief at the same time.

“Mick, you’d better not have been crying over me this whole time,” Juno sighed.

For the sake of his arms, Nureyev crashed down onto the couch. For the sake of his pounding heart and the stupid, smitten grin on his face, he kept his embrace around Juno all the while.

“Did you ask?” Benten insisted, something clearly hidden behind his back. From the way the house had smelled in that short eternity Nureyev had spent at Juno’s side, he could only assume it was some kind of baked good.

Juno raised his newly ring-clad hand with a grin. When it seemed Mick could hold himself together for no longer, he jogged over to wrap both Nureyev and Juno in a rib-crushing hug.

“Easy on the gunshot wound,” Juno croaked.

“And his fiancé,” Nureyev choked out from beneath the pileup made no better by an overenthusiastic dog assuming this was finally her chance to climb into Peter’s already occupied lap.

“Right,” Mick replied as he peeled himself away. The dog remained put.

“Is she allowed on the furniture?” Juno asked.

“Not technically,” Ben shrugged. “It’s a special occasion though. It’s not every day your brother makes some kind of miraculous recovery and gets engaged in the same twelve hours. I’ve got dinner on the stove still, just in case you feel like you can eat.”

“So,” Juno started as Nureyev helped him to his staggering feet. “Where are we going from here?”

“Anywhere you’d like, my love,” Peter smiled. “Though I have heard there’s a certain woman at a certain saloon in want of a pair of thieves.”

“I’ll have to check it out.”

“Only once you can walk,” Nureyev reminded him, receiving an eye roll and a hearty laugh for his trouble.

Peter hadn’t grown up with the kind of family that ate meals together. He ate when he had food, and if he happened to have food at the same time as his father figure, that was that. There was something particularly nice about the idea of owning a little place to call your own, with a dog and a husband, and maybe even half a dozen chickens or so. He liked the idea of a future that smelled like a homemade stew and felt like Juno in his arms, even partially crushed under a dog. He wasn’t even sure how much he minded the idea of growing old if he got to do it with someone like Juno Steel.

So Nureyev stood and made a joke or two as he helped Juno Steel, the lady he was going to marry, to the table underneath which they would hold hands and pretend not to brush knees while above, they celebrated such kindnesses as life and a future Peter hadn’t ever seen on the horizon until he felt that the hand in his now bore that ring.