Chapter Text
Nicky gazed out the window that overlooked the busy cobblestone streets below. Even from this high up he could hear the bustling sounds of the market, the vendors yelling and laughing with one another, the people jostling past each other, the occasional tourist looking just a little bit dazed in the hot morning sun. He had been standing there for nearly twenty minutes, leaning on the kitchen counter, the dishes long since done, as he simply took in the familiar sights and sounds of home.
It was a strange claim to make, a fact that he knew very well. Nicky knew the connection he felt to Italy on a whole was messy and inaccurate to his upbringing, yet whenever they came here, he couldn’t help the way his heart would swell with fondness.
His mind was already made up that they should spend another week here before meeting up with the others in Russia, they wouldn’t mind. Nicky was just composing how to suggest that very thing when two strong arms wrapped tightly around his stomach, a line of familiar heat pressing against his back.
“Buongiorno,” Joe murmured as he nuzzled into his neck, voice all deep timber and morning roughness.
A shiver went through Nicky at the sensation of his beard scratching his neck and he knew Joe felt it because he briefly tightened his arms, humming softly. Unable to keep the smile off his face, Nicky wrapped his arms around the ones holding him and leaned back firmly into Joe’s hold.
This, he decided, was pure bliss.
“Ant tabdin jamilat alyawm.”
“You must still be asleep,” Nicky teased only for Joe to pinch him in silent admonishment.
“You always look beautiful Nicolò.”
Knowing better then to set Joe off on one of his flattering if exhausting speeches, Nicky simply hummed his agreement, allowing their conversation to slip away as they both watched the street below. There was something achingly domestic about it and Nicky found himself trying to commit this moment to his memory, for as long as time allowed it.
“You’re happiest here, aren’t you?”
Nicky shook his head, “I’m happiest with you, where does not matter.”
That earned him a kiss, pressed firmly to his temple, “and you call me the romantic one.”