Work Text:
“How can I help you?”
“I am , here for the art program,” the person standing in front of Nicky’s desk says tentatively, and damn, it’s rude to talk to people without looking at them, but he’s trying to stay focused on entering the details of this last book before tearing his eyes away from the monitor.
Nicky puts the last DDS number in the system, hits next, and wonders who the hell Yusuf is. He confirms that he’s sure he wants to save the new book into the system four consecutive times, trying to figure out what an art program is with 10 percent of his brain’s capacity before he eventually gets to click the holy ‘Save’ button.
He looks up, finally, and his train of thoughts comes to an immediate halt. A breathtakingly gorgeous guy, one of the most beautiful people Nicky has ever seen, is smiling at him with his whole face and there is something in his warm brown eyes that is doing this thing to Nicky’s insides that he can’t really put a name on.
“Hi!” The guy’s smile deepens and Nicky tries, and fails miserably to provide some sort of response. “I… so… you guys did get the confirmation email about the Art Corner, right?” the guy asks dubiously, and Nicky blinks at him a few times, in the hopes of speeding up his brain’s reload process.
Email? Confirmation? Corner?
Oh for the love of God, the Art Corner.
Nicky has been, in fact, waiting for the volunteer university professor who is supposed to run the free art program on Wednesdays this summer, and damn prejudgments, but Dr. Yusuf Al-Kaysani seemed to be the name of an old tiny professor, who would look very much like Nicky’s “History of Libraries” lecturer back in college. The guy beaming at Nicky, however, looks nothing like grumpy Dr. Saad especially not when he’s sporting such a ridiculously attractive dark beard. Those biceps showing through short tight sleeves are more likely to belong to a professional boxer, and that whole-faced smile, melting Nicky’s heart, would be perfect for acting on the big screen.
Nicky swallows and runs his hand through his hair before finally getting up to his feet and shaking the guy’s hand. “Nicky,” he manages to get out successfully but that’s about it because the guy - Yusuf or Doctor Professor Al-Kaysani - has a warm firm handshake and it might be Nicky’s reeling mind, but he keeps Nicky’s hand in his a few seconds too long.
“Nice to meet you in person,” he says, as he finally lets go of Nicky’s hand, “you look exactly like this Italian actor I’m a huge fan of!”
Nicky closes his mouth, just realizing he’d left it open after saying his name, and opens it again to say something smart and charming, but words are what, so he just nods like a goof with a wide grin and wonders which Italian actor is unfortunate enough to have a Roman nose like his.
“I should get set up I guess?” Yusuf points to the bunch of art supplies in a large box on the floor by his foot.
“Sure,” Nicky says and grabs the box without asking, realizing how ridiculous it is to help that guy carrying this box, that barely weighs as much as a bag of apples, when he is already across the reading hall almost at the spot he’s picked for the art corner.
WHATEVER.
It’s the gesture that counts.
***
“Alright kids, excellent work everyone, time to pack up and wash the brush,” Yusuf chimes happily as he cleans his hands on a rag, “and don’t forget to thank Nicky, he’s very kind to stay after his work is done to help you guys create your masterpieces,” he adds and as if his words are not enough to make Nicky glow from inside, he turns to Nicky and winks, making Nicky’s heart do a flip in his chest.
Kids circle around Yusuf, like every other week, mostly to show him the sketches they’ve done at home, or ask for his opinion on their summer art projects. One blushing girl asks Yusuf to draw a black shredded heart on her impressively realistic model of Apollo 13, and the way Yusuf’s face lights up as he admires the work while sketching the heart is too earnest for Nicky to handle gracefully
Yusuf, in general, is just too good for Nicky to handle gracefully.
It’s not just that he’s donating his time to run this program and he’s providing all the art supplies too. It's not just the way he answers kids’ questions with patience and compassion and seems to genuinely care if they learn something or not. It's not only his smiles, each and every one of them making Nicky’s heart skip a beat, or his voice that’s so soft, but can make lightning go through Nicky’s core. His soft touch when he tries to teach Nicky how to use a paintbrush properly. His curls. The sparkle in his eyes.
It’s all, Nicky tells himself, as he takes his eyes off Yusuf who’s now listening to a teenage boy reading something to him, and heads to the storage to put away a stack of chairs.
It’s all and it’s more.
***
“Yusuf day, eh?” Booker asks as he walks in through the back door, looking Nicky up and down, and his smile turns cheeky as he peaks into the reading hall. “Yusuf day, indeed,” he whistles quietly and walks past Nicky on his way to the archive room.
Nicky frowns at him and rolls his eyes, but something warm bubbles in his chest. It is Yusuf day, indeed, and Nicky does dress up a little on Wednesdays. It's not a big deal, not really, because he had worn dress shirts, long pants, and closed shoes in summer before Yusuf too. Very rarely, but he had. He absolutely had.
“When are you gonna ask him out, Nicky?” Quynh asks as she puts a stack of books on the desk. “You know that longing looks from across the hall and half-assed flirting are not very efficient ways of letting people know you like them.”
“I know, Quynh,” Nicky sighs, as he scans the books one by one and piles them up on the returns trolly. “You’ve been reminding me of the same thing, at about the same time, every Wednesday afternoon, every single week.”
“She has a point, buddy,” Booker says on his way to the kitchen. “The summer is only so long,” he announces ominously as he and Quynh share a look. “It’s time to make your move.”
Nicky glares at both of them, giggling in the kitchen now, and turns in his seat to face the reading hall. He watches Yusuf enter the library through the front door, scratching his beard with one hand, and tapping on his phone with the other. The afternoon sun spills through the large glass door, glistening over his skin, and for a wild second, Nicky wonders how it would feel to run his fingers against that patch of skin that’s showing between the edge of his shirt and the waist of his pants. Yusuf looks up from his phone right then, smiling with his whole face, and all the thoughts run away from Nicky.
He has to do something.
Fast.
***
“So was it a half-stash? Or like a quarter-stash?” Yusuf asks as he bites into his third crostoli. “Mmmm, gosh, this is amazing,” he mumbles with his mouth full and his praise for the pastries Nicky makes all the time and especially for today, sounds genuine enough to make his inside go liquidy.
“Alright, alright, make fun as much as you like,” Nicky laughs and so does Yusuf, “it’s still worth letting kids know that grown-ups have dealt with the very same issues as them. That’s the whole point of the multicultural day, to share our experiences about being from a different background and spread some hope around. Hopefully.” He spoons the remaining couscous in his plate and lets out a sinful moan. “And eat home-made authentic food like this. Yusuf, this tastes-” and he hums as he tries to find the right word to describe the food Yusuf has brought to the library to share “-impossibly vibrant and packed with heated flavors. Just like--” Yusuf himself, Nicky thinks, so simple yet magnificent and exquisite. “It’s dreamy,” he adds, hoping his smile is not turning too wide for the occasion.
“Thank you, Nicky,” Yusuf smiles, and the corners of his eyes crinkle. “You have a subtle way with words. And you’re very brave to share your story.” And he grasps Nicky’s arm, squeezes lightly, and sets Nicky’s whole body on fire.
Nicky swallows and coughs, and hopes that the lights are dim enough not to exaggerate the way he must be blushing now. He turns to the table and takes a deep breath, hoping to regain some composure before he says something to embarrass himself. The tray of Quynh's mini Banh Mi rolls are empty, so they are the most popular this year too, and Booker’s lost the bet again because there are still some pains au chocolat left on his precious French serving plate. Nicky eyes the array of colorful dishes people have brought in to be shared but unlike previous years he can’t bring himself to go around the table and taste some of the noodles or the rice dishes, or the many different sweets. All he wants is more of Yusuf’s couscous.
And more of Yusuf himself.
Period.
Yusuf turns around and squats to get to the level of a little boy struggling to get some of Andy’s Moussaka and the way the boy giggles from something Yusuf tells him before standing up, warms Nicky’s heart.
“By the way, Nicky,” Yusuf says as he grabs two more of Nicky's crostoli and stuffs one into his mouth, “thank you so much for helping with the class these past weeks.” There is a bit of sugar dust in his beard, and Nicky reaches over to clean it up. “It’s really generous of you to donate your time after your shift is over,” he goes on without missing a beat and Nicky doesn’t think about what he’s doing until he’s wiped the sugar off completely. “From tomorrow though…” Yusuf pauses, and Nicky drops his hand, realizing that he’s practically playing with Yusuf’s beard and staring into his eyes.
He also realizes that he really really loves the way Yusuf’s beard feels to the touch. It’s much softer than Nicky has dreamed of but has the slightest edge that would make the perfect combination for pressing one’s lips to. Or pressing them to one’s neck.
Or chest.
Just. Yeah.
He has to ask Yusuf out right now. Or maybe after he finishes whatever he is trying to say because all the reasons he had not asked Yusuf out before this moment suddenly seem completely irrelevant, with the fire that’s burning at the tip of his finger and is spreading through his veins and pooling low in his belly. He’s got this. He has totally--
“...partner will finally come to help with the class.”
Every noise goes quiet and everything stands still.
Partner?
“She’d be here from the beginning if she hadn't been busy with a huge commission the whole summer, but she finally has some time, so I think we shall stop bothering you. She’s very excited to finally meet you since I’ve been talking her ear off about the library so very much.”
Partner.
Someone pours an invisible bucket of ice on Nicky’s head, the cold drips freezing all over his skin as his face twitches into a grin, on its own volition, and his throat makes some noise that turns into words and slips out between his lips. “Fine, perfect. Excellent. Sure.”
He snaps his mouth shut before he can go on with the fake enthusiasm and listens to Yusuf as he continues to talk about something that doesn’t register in Nicky’s brain anymore.
He keeps the smile plastered to his face though; Yusuf has a partner, and the funny feeling that’s churning in Nicky’s stomach has a very good possibility of turning into a stream of embarrassing tears, if he does anything but smile till his cheeks start to ache.
***
“Jamie can’t find this book, love bird,” Andy quips as she ruffles Nicky’s hair. She hands him a piece of paper reading ‘The Lessons of History’, so Jamie is probably one of the tenth-graders she’s tutoring as part of the council’s Volunteers for Education Assistance.
“Andy, you do know that I only share this space with your girlfriend and I am not actually Quynh, even if I sit on the same chair from time to time, right?”
Andy giggles and smooths Nicky’s hair back. “Don’t be grumpy, pretty face. Just give me the book and I'll be out of your hair.” She turns back to the hall and looks at the Art Corner. “Who’s the new girl?”
Nicky runs the name of the book in the system and sighs. “It’s Nile something, she’s-” He tries but he can’t bring himself to admit that he’s been drooling over a guy in a committed relationship the whole summer. “-with Yusuf.”
Andy raises an eyebrow and turns back to Nicky. “She seems very friendly.”
Nicky sighs again, writes the DDS number, and holds out the piece of paper. He watches friendly Nile Something as she touches Yusuf’s back and laughs out loud, and does his best not to flinch at the way his heart squeezes painfully in his chest.
“Who’s the new girl?” Booker calls out from behind. “Nile something, here with Yusuf,” Andy replies, nodding to Booker, before she takes the note from Nicky and makes her way to the history shelf near the front door.
Booker nods back and squeezes Nicky’s shoulder. “She’s pretty.”
She is, in fact, very pretty. With that beautifully braided hair and those perfect lips, and eyes that Nicky would say reflect a beautiful soul if he did not hate the girl so much. “I guess so,” he huffs and tears his eyes away from the Art Corner to watch Andy wrap her hands around Quynh, who’s just walked in. It’s a delight to watch them melt into the hug, even after having seen it twice a week at least, for almost a decade and it never fails to warm Nicky’s heart at least a little, even if Nile and Yusuf are whispering and giggling over something right before his eyes.
"It’s not a big deal," he mutters to himself as he signs out of the system and reaches for his backpack before he stands up. Yusuf’s just the most genuine guy Nicky has ever met that happens to be extremely hot, can cook, and has a smile in his bag for each and every little kid who asks a question for the millionth time. Nicky can always find someone else as good. Someone even better.
He will survive and he will be fine.
Maybe.
***
“On the corner of First Street and Long Street, on the very top floor, Omu was cooking a thick red stew in a big fat pot for a nice evening meal.”
Of course.
Of course, Nile would volunteer to read for the Reading Hour, even if ‘Yusuf could not make it but sends his best’, and of course she would pick “Thank you! Omu” among billions of other books, the one that Nicky has written two different articles on, one printed in The Guardians Harmony Day Special Edition. That’s how perfect she is inside and out. And that’s how Nicky’s life rolls, just how lucky he usually is.
“I was selling hot dogs down the block when I smelled the most delicious smell.” She continues to read as Nicky sighs and shuffles to make room for a mom with a toddler and a baby to sit on the floor. There is no way to ignore the admiration in the eyes of the kids around him and how they’re hooked to the animated way Nile’s reading the words and pointing to the pictures; the gasps when she pauses between important parts, the giggles when she changes her voice from Omu to the police officer to that of the hot dog vendor.
“Soon the sky darkened, the street lights brightened, and it was finally time for dinner,” she brings her voice down and all the noise in the circle goes quiet, “but when Omu opened her big fat pot of thick red stew for her nice evening meal-” She pauses and looks around the hall, her smile growing wider as she nods to something vaguely situated in the space behind Nicky, “-hahh, what’s that noise? Knock, knock, knock.” Nicky looks over his shoulder, and Nile continues in her Omu voice. “I’m sorry everyone, my thick red stew is all gone. I have nothing left to share.”
Nicky waves back at Booker sitting across the hall, his hips pressed against Nicky's desk, and rolls his eyes. ‘Get off’ he mutters, but Booker shrugs and points to Quynh pressed against Andy’s side in the corner. ‘It’s her desk now,’ he mouths back and points to his watch. Nicky shakes his head in response but fails to wipe the smile from his face as he turns to Nile and his heart drops a little when Nile smiles back.
“The little boy tugged at Omu’s sleeve. ‘Don’t worry Omu, we’re not here to ask. We’re here to give’,” she reads in the little boy voice and the kids cheer with joy, even the baby in her mom’s arms smiles toothless and open-mouthed. “Thank you Omu!” She finishes off and a cheerful applause fills the reading hall. Everyone loves Nile of course, even Mrs. White who holds the record of the most noise complaints, who’s clapping enthusiastically and may or may not be wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.
Nicky sighs and rubs his sleeping foot before he stands up to help the mom put the little baby in the stroller and high-five the toddler goodbye. He then heads to his desk to grab his backpack to dock out, as Quynh and Andy are busy listening to something very amusing Booker is telling them, when someone squeezes his shoulder from behind.
“Nicky,” Nile says and well, one might say that one can light up a room with that smile. “Thank you for having me, I really enjoyed reading Omu, and the kids seemed to love the book,” she says, sounding too truthful for what Nicky would prefer and he has to swallow around the bitterness clogging his throat, before he can say anything to thank Nile for her time.
She is fun. She is sophisticated. She is charming.
She is great.
She is definitely, hundred-percently better than Nicky.
Fuck.
***
“Didn’t know you were working today, Book,” Nicky huffs and tries to scoot further down behind his monitor. He should not have agreed to swap shifts with Quynh today, knowing exactly how hurtful it would be to watch Yusuf pack up everything after the last session.
“I’m not,” Booker says as he messes up the books on Nicky’s desk. “Nile is free tonight, so I’m taking her out.”
Nicky bats Booker’s hand away as he watches the kids line up to give Nile a hug and is busy wondering if he can hug Yusuf goodbye so it takes him a bit, too long maybe, to process what Booker has just said.
“Take Nile out?” He slowly peels his eyes off of the art corner and turns to look at Booker standing next to him. “This Nile?”
“Yes, Nicky, do we know any other ones who might want to go out with me?”
“You asked Nile out?” Nicky shakes his head and clears his throat. “How did that happen?”
Booker waves to someone in the hall, which is almost definitely Nile, and shrugs. “I don’t know, she is pretty and I’m single, and unlike some people who mope and sniffle for the whole summer and choke every time they try to make a move, I used my precious words and asked if she wanted to go to dinner.”
That doesn't sound right. Nile is Yusuf’s partner. How could she-- “What does Yusuf think about that?”
Booker tilts his head and smiles at Nicky, with the dad energy he sometimes has which is annoying as hell, “I know you care about Yusuf’s opinion a lot, but why on earth should I care what he thinks about this?”
“I mean does he even know?”
“Probably?”
“Well you’re taking his partner out on a date, don’t you care a little what he thinks about it?”
Booker seems a little confused now, which makes Nicky feel even more flustered. “Look, if I want to ask you out, not that I ever will, gee, but hypothetically, should I care what Quynh thinks about it?”
Nicky glares at Booker. “Like I’d ever go out with you, if you were the last living person on Earth. And what’s that got to do with this?”
“Well, she’s your colleague?” Booker asks mockingly, “you guys don’t own the library but you’re kinda partners in mismanaging this place?”
Nicky runs his hand in his hair and stands. “Book, what is the matter with you? Nile’s not Yusuf’s work partner. They’re partner partners.”
Booker takes a step back and his eyes get suddenly wider. “What? No, Nicky, they are business partners, managing their art gallery? According to my sources, Yusuf’s single. And absolutely gay. Tell me you did know that they run an art gallery together.”
All the blood rushes away from Nicky’s brain and his heart stops beating for a second.
He might have heard mentions of an art gallery in passing but he may or may not have been too busy admiring Yusuf’s crooked tooth, that he might have missed some detail.
So…
Nile is not Yusuf’s partner partner?
Wow. Nicky might pass out a little right now.
Blood starts to flow back slowly and his heart begins to thud again in his chest. Nile is not Yusuf’s partner; hell, no one is Yusuf’s partner.
Nicky can be that. The partner. The world is suddenly a better place and every second is a new opportunity for happiness.
He just needs to tell Yusuf.
No more waiting.
***
Nicky hugs Nile goodbye and ignores the question in Booker’s raised eyebrow. It feels great. It’s just amazing not to have any reason to hate Nile anymore.
He makes the closing time announcements at the 15 minutes and five minutes marks, before he ushers the last highschoolers out and locks the front door. Yusuf’s hanging around at the culture shelf like he usually did on the nights Nicky had to close and Nicky keeps telling himself it’s just like those nights and he can be calm and cool, as calm and cool as he had managed to be back then. His heart, however, is beating a few thousand times faster as he walks to the shelf and his head spins a little as he finally stands in front of Yusuf.
“Hey!” Yusuf looks up from the book he’s reading and his face brightens with one of those smiles that will make Nicky melt or burn or evaporate into the air, one of these days.
“Hey, yourself,” Nicky replies, taking a step closer, “I was wondering…” he tries, before he runs out of breath for some reason, so he takes a deep breath and tries one more time. “I was wondering if…” but he still stumbles over the words, unable to find the proper ones.
Yusuf swaps the book between his hands and tilts his head to the side. “You were wondering...” he asks and he turns his palm upward, the universal gesture for a question, but that’s all the invitation Nicky’s body seems to need. Months of holding back and building up, all the pent-up energy that was still insufficient to put together one simple sentence just before, turns into a desperate, feverish kiss, as he clutches to Yusuf’s stretched hand and closes the gap between them. He pushes Yusuf against the bookshelf, pressing his body against his, his free hand snaking up Yusuf’s side and tangles into his curls. He’s out of control, his body working without any command from his brain, but he can’t bring himself to care, because Yusuf’s lips part, and he hums as Nicky’s tongue finds his, their fingers now intertwined, their bodies swaying back and forth gently to a mutual rhythm.
They kiss for minutes, or hours, or even more, and Nicky wants to go on, to kiss Yusuf against the Mediterranean culture books for the rest of eternity, but human bodies are disappointing and he has to pull away for air. He doesn’t let go of Yusuf’s hand though, or his slightly tousled hair for that matter. “So, did you want to grab a bite or something?” He lays his forehead against Yusuf, and wonders if it’s now appropriate to kiss the blush that’s coloring his cheeks, or the tip of his nose, or the tiny wrinkles of his eyebrows. “You know, as in going out with me?”
Yusuf brings his hand up to cup Nicky’s cheek and nuzzles his nose. “I was kinda convinced that you’d never ask.”
“That’s a whole weird, embarrassing story I should probably tell you tonight, before Booker tells Nile and Nile tells you.” Nicky chuckles as he brushes his lips to Yusuf’s again. “I know a great Maltese place, just around the corner. Wanna try it?”
Yusuf breathes in and smiles, his beard tickling Nicky’s lips. “That would be nice.”
