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It’s a quiet kind of night, but sleep eludes Joe. He looks lovingly at Nicky who is currently asleep, curled up in front of him wearing an oversized hoodie and sweatpants. Joe smiles.
Joe admires many things about Nicky. If given the chance he’d write entire books about his husband’s many qualities. If he has to be honest though, Joe would admit that some of these qualities are more like acquired tastes, not so easy to love —or understand—. Like Nicky’s fashion sense, for example.
And it’s not like Joe thinks Nicky ever looks bad, for all Joe cares Nicky could wear a burlap bag and if he’s happy Joe would be too.
Sure, everyone develops their own style and yes, many people go through embarrassing phases before finding what they like to wear and what suits them best. Joe doesn’t like to be ostentatious and yet, he takes his time choosing clothes. He values comfort but he also likes to look good. And then there’s Nicky. Nicky, who has avoided and sometimes actively refused to go shopping. Nicky, who is only too happy to share a wardrobe with Joe and wear his shirts, he’d wear his pants too if he could fit into them.
Which is how Nicky managed to shock Joe one time.
They were in an improvised hideout after a mission, their usual safe house had been compromised and the team had to flee, taking just what they could carry. The bag that Joe grabbed had a couple of shirts that he and Nicky could use until they reached another safe house, but it only had one pair of pants. Tight, with multiple zippers. Joe’s pants. Nicky wouldn’t have minded just wearing the same pants he had on, except they were half-covered in blood, not exactly inconspicuous. They were debating how likely it would be for someone to start asking questions if they saw him casually walking around in those, when Nile threw something at Nicky.
“What is this?” Nicky raised an eyebrow.
“A gift from above.”
“God?”
“Kinda. But really from the building’s clothesline.”
Nicky unfolded the bundle. “Are these pants?”
“Of course they are, they have two legholes, high-rise waist, when did you become so picky?” Nile rolled her eyes.
Nicky shrugged and thanked Nile. He looked at the fabric with something very much like mistrust but after closer inspection and confirmation that the indistinct mass was indeed pants-shaped, he seemed to accept the offering. Just then Andy returned and informed them the place was relatively safe, they should be able to catch some sleep.
The next morning, Nicky got up first as was usual. By the time Joe got up, Nicky was already dressed. He was wearing the pants Nile had found for him. Joe did a double take. The black sleek fabric looked as if it had been painted on Nicky’s skin, hugging Nicky’s calves, his thighs, his ass.
“Hayati, what…” Joe swallowed. “You don’t have to wear that, I’m sure we can wash your other pants.”
“Oh, no need. These are very comfortable.”
Joe said nothing, in his mind, the skin-tight leggings would attract more attention than the blood-soaked pants. In fact, he felt those things —he refused to call them pants— were far more revealing than if Nicky had just chosen to wear shorts.
Nile caught him staring. “You’re welcome.”
That was not the end of it. Nicky had taken to wearing those pants from time to time, claiming he truly liked them going so far as to buy a couple more. Joe couldn’t really complain, although he suspected Nicky knew all too well the effect they had on him.
Whenever Nile caught him ogling Nicky’s ass she would just smile and mutter: “Again, you’re welcome.”
Joe can feel his cheeks burning and he’s glad Nicky isn’t looking at him right now. He leans forward and pulls the hoodie down to press a soft kiss to the back of Nicky’s neck, and he allows himself to think about the pants one more time. That is not the only time his husband’s choices have floored him. Yes, there’s the clothes but there’s also Nicky’s hair, of course.
Through all the years —decades, centuries— they’ve been together, Nicky has grown out his hair many, many times. He keeps it short for convenience now but every few years, he would let his hair get long, and every single time this happened Joe would have the exact same reaction.
The all-too-familiar warmth of recognizing just how attracted he is to his husband, even after all these years.
The tenderness of wanting to take a long while to braid his hair.
The semi-conscious act of keeping hair ties handy, in case Nicky wants his hair out of his eyes.
The overpowering lust when he watches Nicky put his hair in a ponytail.
That primal instinct to pull Nicky’s head back by his hair when they kiss.
And just like with those ungodly pants, Joe is pretty sure Nicky knows all of this and when he wants to tease him —dragging the game on for months, years even— he stops cutting his hair.
Only the last time this happened, there was a new element.
In Joe’s opinion, his beloved’s eyes are of a beauty beyond comparison. Even after countless years together, he cannot give a fair description. They’re the sky, they’re the ocean, they're Joe’s universe, he could get lost in them.
Then one day Nicky showed up with glasses, part of his ‘tired student’ cover. And there he was, tiny ponytail daring Joe to tug on it, eyes full of mirth behind the glasses.
At first, Joe thought it was almost criminal to put something between Nicky’s eyes and his. Later however, when Nicky was on his knees looking up at him through the glasses, he changed his mind. Somehow, Nicky managed to smirk while doing something else with his mouth.
Joe bites his lip and shakes his head, bringing himself back to the present, thinking that yes maybe he misses the longer hair. He nuzzles Nicky’s neck and he concedes that shorter hair has advantages too. He’s still not sleepy and his mind wanders to another incomprehensible choice Nicky has made.
Long hair Joe can deal with. Facial hair, not so much. Nicky often says it’s not fair Joe gets to keep a full beard when he makes such a fuss about Nicky being clean-shaven. Joe knows Nicky doesn’t really mind either way, but it’s become another little game between them.
Sometimes, when they argue —yes, of course they argue— Nicky will “misplace” his razor. Most times, he will just torture Joe for a few days with scratchy kisses and beard burn before he shaves again.
Still, that time in the 70s when Nicky grew a mustache is very fresh on Joe’s mind. It made Nicky look so different, indecent even —dare Joe say, dirty?
Nicky had lost a bet with Booker. Joe couldn’t remember what the bet was about but the terrifying consequence was a thing growing on Nicky’s upper lip. Joe could not believe the level of emotional unrest such a simple thing could cause, he went through it. Slightly annoyed by the whiskery kisses at first, then amused when the mustache hadn’t quite grown in, then confused when he couldn’t decide whether he hated the damn thing or loved it. And all the while Nicky seemed to enjoy his husband’s confusion, teasing him to no end, making sure to run his mouth (and The Stache) all over Joe’s body.
Joe shivers at the thought. Nicky stirs in his arms but does not wake. Joe holds him closer and comes to the conclusion that he loves Nicky in any way, shape, or form and that he welcomes all the small surprises that may yet come.