Work Text:
2042
…
"Okay, class, I'm going to end our discussion here. Please remember to read the article assigned for our next class. It's on the course page, so you have no excuses." Nile disconnects her tablet from the holoscreen. "You're dismissed. Have a lovely evening, and I will see you on Thursday."
There's a general chatter as the class packs up, discussing the material and plans for the evening and the potential of going for drinks.
"Dr. Hughes?" A familiar head of pink hair pops back into the lecture hall.
"Yes, Courtney?"
"There's some random French guy here who says he's waiting for you. Should I call security?"
"No, thank you," Nile says, laughing. "He's a friend. Tell him I'll be right out."
"Okay..." The sophomore doesn't seem convinced, but she doesn't argue.
Nile takes her time double-checking her things before she finally leaves the lecture hall.
Sure enough, Sébastien le Livre is leaning against the windowsill in the hall. He looks good, his hair shorter than usual and his coat newer than the last time she saw him.
"Book."
Booker perks up when he sees her.
"Dr. Morgan Hughes," he says with a wry smile. "It's good to see you. I like the new look."
Nile runs a hand over her bleached buzzcut and straightens her oversized red glasses.
"It's growing on me." She can't wait anymore, throwing herself at him for a tight hug, persona be damned. "I missed you."
"I missed you too," Booker admits, one arm around her and the other hand cupping the back of her neck. "Sorry it took me so long."
Nile finally releases him when she hears the tittering of art students further down the hall.
"Let's get out of here. I've stoked the gossip mill enough, and I'm supposed to teach for another six months at least."
"Gossip is a good thing," Booker says with a smirk. "It humanizes you. Rounds out the character."
"There's a nice little diner in town," Nile says holding out her hand until Booker takes it. "I'll drive you."
The ride to the diner is quiet, their hands entwined on the center console. It's raining, and for a moment Nile misses the sound of tires on wet pavement.
"Could you not talk Copley into a better car?" Booker asks. "This one doesn't even have proper autopilot."
"I don't trust autopilot, and you know it," Nile says with a little smirk. "This car is fine. It adds to the mystique of my age, since I bought it new."
"They still don't believe you're forty-eight, do they?"
"Some do," Nile says. "Black don't crack, and all that. Others think I forged my paperwork."
"You did."
"No, Copley did." Nile parks in the garage closest to the diner and the car gently rests on its landing gear. "Come on, I'm starving."
The diner near the university is old-school, complete with waitstaff and questionable coffee. Nile visited when Junior was in college, so she knows it really hasn't changed in twenty years.
"The usual, Doc?" Kai asks once Nile and Booker sit. They're in one of Nile's intro classes, a precocious freshman with big brown eyes in a pale brown face.
"Yes please, and whatever my friend would like," Nile says, gesturing to Booker.
"What would you suggest, cherie?" Booker asks, a twinkle in his eye. He knows exactly what he's doing.
Nile rolls her eyes. "He'll have the meatloaf special, since he doesn't want to choose."
"You've got it, Doc. Coffee, sir?"
"Please."
Kai heads for the kitchen, and Nile kicks Booker under the table.
"You're going to give the gossip mill more to work with, and I'll be dealing with the aftermath for weeks."
"Will it ruin your chances with some paramour?" Booker asks. The way his gaze tightens, Nile knows he's only partly joking.
"No, my attentions are far too engrossed with my research, my classes, and my fact-finding," Nile says softly. "No paramours. Just work."
"All work and no play, etc." Booker says it lightly, but Nile can see the tension in his shoulders ease. "How is the job going?"
"I'm digging into the repatriation issue," Nile says. "The university has more than they're admitting to in storage, and I'm only just scratching the surface. It's going to take longer than we thought. Copley is chasing leads on the monetary side."
"I still can't believe a university would be part of this."
"It's the board. The corruption runs deep, and it has for a century." Nile shakes her head. "That's enough about the job for now. How is the family? I haven't seen anyone in a while."
"Andy finally stopped bitching about being grounded and started learning the tech she needs to be a handler," Booker says with barely stifled glee. "Watching Copley teach her about computers is a fun time for everyone except for the two of them. She ran Joe and Nicky's latest run, and it seems to have gone well."
"And Quynh?"
"Adjusting as well as can be expected," Booker says. "She's working on catching up."
"You're still in Paris, yes? In the bookstore?"
"I would have told you if I was anywhere else," Booker says softly, nudging her foot under the table. "Except for surprising you like this, of course."
"Of course." Nile nudges back. "It really is good to see you, Book. I missed you. I missed this."
"I missed you too. It's the only reason I would leave my beloved shop to the care of my manager and shopkeeper without me."
"I'm honored," Nile says, and she's only half-joking.
"Tell me about your research," Booker says in a blatant ploy to change the subject.
It works, because Nile can and will talk about her research for hours on end. Kai brings their food and coffee, and Nile is still discussing her research by the time the food is eaten.
"Okay, okay, as much as I enjoy watching you talk about something you care so passionately about, we should let Kai turn the table. There are people waiting for the booth, cherie."
Nile signs the check and holds her hand out to Booker as she stands.
"What about the gossip mill?" Booker asks, taking it.
"Let them talk. I don't see you often enough." Nile squeezes his hand. "Let's go home."
Dr. Morgan Hughes is living on an adjunct professor's salary, but luckily her book is doing well enough to explain a decent apartment.
"Home sweet home." Nile unlocks the door with her handprint, and then with the physical key she insists on using for security's sake.
"It's a nice little place," Booker says, hanging his coat on the coatrack and removing his boots. "Homey."
"I've settled down for the first time in a while," Nile says, doing the same and dropping her briefcase on the couch. "I like having roots for once, as fake as they are."
When she makes eye contact with Booker, there's a single beat, then another, before they're crashing into each other. Nile wraps her arms around his neck as Booker's hands settle at her waist, their lips meeting for the first time in over a year.
"I missed you," Nile whispers into his neck, flinging her useless glasses aside. Booker's grip would leave marks if she didn't heal. "I missed this."
"I'm sorry it took me so long," Booker mumbles into her hair.
"You're here now. That's what matters." Nile runs her fingers through his hair. "It's too short."
"My apologies." Booker hoists her into his arms. "I'll remember for next time."
"You'd better." Nile ducks as he carries her into her bedroom. "Do you really like the shorn look?"
"I like you in every look, cherie," Booker promises, kissing her neck. "Every possible way."
Nile lands on the bed and watches him peel his worn henley off as she sheds her blazer and unbuttons her blouse.
"Every way?"
"All of them," Booker says, bending down to kiss her again, like he can't get enough now that the seal is broken. "I can't imagine a version of you I would not adore."
…
Later, when the sweat has cooled and their breathing has calmed, Nile rests her head on Booker's chest.
"Don't go another year without seeing me," she says softly. "I can't keep doing this in pieces."
"I won't," Booker says, rubbing his hand over her head. "I promise."
"I love you," Nile whispers, almost too-soft to catch.
"And I, you," Booker murmurs back. "I don't deserve you."
"I don't care."