Work Text:
The third time Joe and Nicky brush past each other while they’re ferrying dishes and glasses from the table to the kitchen, Joe catches him, circles Nicky’s wrist with his fingers and tows him close and presses a kiss to his temple.
Nicky leans into it, then stretches until he can place the empty bottle he’s carrying on the countertop. He turns back and cradles Joe’s face between his palms and gazes at him for a long moment, unblinking. “You’re tired, my love,” Nicky tells him, and then closes the remaining distance between them and kisses him sweetly, and Joe lets his gritty eyes fall shut and sways into Nicky’s comforting embrace.
“Let us sleep while we can,” Nicky suggests quietly, and they abandon the kitchen as a job to deal with in the morning.
Joe settles as well as he can on the sagging mattress and feels the church’s walls and floors shudder as a jet roars overhead. Booker has an arm thrown over his face, and Nile’s eyes are closed, but Joe would bet she’s not asleep. They’re all rusty at welcoming someone new, and Joe resolves to do better by her. The mattress dips as Nicky sits, and then he tucks himself back against Joe, fitting himself into the space Joe’s left for him. It’s not comfortable—they’re still in their clothes—and it’s not safe, but Andy’s on watch, and Nicky has a gun under the pillow. Nicky tugs Joe’s arm around him like a blanket, and Joe wraps himself around Nicky as tightly as he can and breathes in the scent of Nicky’s skin, breathes and breathes and breathes.
* * *
Drifting somewhere between consciousness and sleep, Joe can almost feel the sensation of Nicky’s body pressing him down. It’s half-dream, half-memory, or maybe a vision of the future: The air is cool and fresh, and Nicky is a warm and heavy weight on top of him, skin against skin, and Joe’s only regret in his whole life at this moment is that they ate the last of the pistachio pastries.
“Yusuf,” Nicky scolds. “Are you thinking about pastries?”
“We should have bought more!” Joe says, giddy joy welling up in his chest and spilling out as a laugh, and Nicky noses his cheek and promises solemnly, “I will go to the bakery in the morning. I’ll go before sunrise, and I’ll be waiting outside their door when they unlock it, and they will think that I am a very strange and obsessed man.”
“Mmmmm, kiss me,” Joe says, and Nicky obliges him as always, opens Joe’s mouth with his tongue and kisses him, deep and lush and languid, like they have all the time in the world.