Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Nicky had barely hung up on his client before the phone started ringing in his hand again. He frowned at it, more than a little unamused that the switchboard had ignored his standard ten-minute cooling-off period, but answered anyway. It wasn’t like he had anything particularly better to do with his evening than take some calls and work through some housekeeping. 

‘Ciao, bello,’ he purred as the call connected, and settled down in front of his laundry hamper to sort his colours from his whites. 

‘Good evening!’ said a voice on the other end, markedly more chipper than the usual calls Nicky took. Maybe he was just really excited. ‘My name is Joe, is now a good time to talk?’

‘I have all the time in the world for you, Joe,’ said Nicky, low and smooth in his throat (the clients liked it, especially when he played up his accent, but Nicky guessed he maybe had about an hour left in him before he’d need to break out the honey and lemon). 

‘Wonderful! I’m calling from the office of national statistics, I just have a few questions for you and then you can get on with your evening.’ 

Nicky was a professional, arguably. He had been doing this long enough that he’d thought he’d encountered just about every fantasy scenario possible. It was amazing, in a way, how people could still surprise him. 

‘My evening’s all the better for you being in it,’ Nicky said, feeling out the edges of whatever character Joe was looking for him to play. 

‘Fantastic. Now, I do have to warn you, the particular survey we’re completing at the moment may get a little personal, but you don’t have to answer anything you’re uncomfortable with, and we can stop the survey at any time.’ 

Joe’s voice sounded just as chipper now as it had when Nicky picked up, but with an odd tone to it, like he was reading a script. Nicky certainly wasn’t going to judge, what a person was into was their own business, he was just here to provide a service, but this was certainly one of the more unusual calls he’d taken.

‘I’m comfortable with a great many things, Joe,’ he said, trusting that Joe would let him know in some way if he deviated from whatever fantasy scenario he was building. ‘With a voice as beautiful as yours to listen to, how could I not be?’ 

There was a small gasp on the other end of the line, and then a pause. Nicky paused too in the act of sorting his clothes. 

‘That’s great,’ said Joe at last. He sounded like he was smiling. Nicky got back to sorting his clothes, dragging his discarded shirts into his lap to button up before he washed them. ‘Can we start with your name? Just your first name is fine, so I know who I’m speaking with. This survey is anonymous.’

In theory, on the listings the company displayed on its website, in several discreet magazines, and some less than discreet phone booths, Nicky was ‘The Italian Stallion’. In practice, saying that out loud made some part of his soul curdle in embarrassment. He had managed it once, in his very first call, and had spent the rest of it with his cheeks burning. He didn’t even know if the caller got off or not. He just remembered his own voice saying ‘I’m the Italian Stallion,’ and then it was nothing but crushing white noise. 

Nicky had also learned in his time as a telephonic intimacy provider that no one actually liked hearing someone say ‘you can call me whatever you like.’ Either they started the phone by calling you a name, or they wanted you to decide for them. Asking in the middle of the conversation just confused everything. 

Therefore:

‘You can call me Nicky,’ said Nicky, who had never claimed to be particularly deceitful. The callers would never know it was his real name, so what did it matter? He had a fake name he gave on calls that had a chance to become personal or uncomfortable, but this one didn’t give him that impression. 

‘Nicky. That’s a great name,’ said Joe.

‘It sounds best when you scream it,’ said Nicky, tugging at the cuff of his best shirt distractedly. Somehow he’d managed to twist it before he buttoned it, and had pulled it inside out. It would be almost impressive if it wasn’t so annoying. 

He only noticed how long the pause had been when Joe spoke again. 

‘... Right. So! Nicky. If you had to put a label on your gender, the label you would choose would be…?’ 

Nicky stilled, and looked down at the pile of laundry surrounding him. With deliberate care, he pushed the half-buttoned shirts out of his lap, and gave Joe his complete attention. 

‘I’m all man,’ said Nicky, trying his very best to hold onto his work voice. These kinds of hackneyed phrases never did it for him, but the clients seemed to like them. 

Joe gave an awkward chuckle, a small cough, and carried on. 

‘Similarly, if you had to put a label on your sexuality…?’

‘...Gay?’ replied Nicky, before he rallied. ‘But I’m always open to new experiences.’ If he managed to make his voice any more lascivious, it would manifest as a cruise ship director. 

‘Of course you are,’ said Joe, sounding momentarily weary, before his chipper tone returned like someone pulling on a coat. ‘The purpose of this call, Nicky, is to gather data on access to sexual health and social services for various demographics. As I said previously, if at any point you are uncomfortable answering, you don’t have to, or if you would like to answer but are unsure, I can potentially rephrase the question. Are you happy to proceed?’ 

That was… startlingly detailed, for a fantasy. Nicky pulled his phone away from his ear and peered at the screen. Caller Withheld, it read, as it did every time a client was put through from the switchboard. His work phone was unlisted and had been provided by the company with full assurances of Nicky’s anonymity while using it. Only calls routed through the company were supposed to be able to reach it, as that was the only way callers could be charged. 

‘I’m… all yours?’ offered Nicky. 

‘In the last six months, have you accessed sexual health services in your local authority area, including any walk-in testing clinics or PrEP clinics?’ Joe asked, all in a rush. 

Nicky had never quite been asked like this before, but the question brought him back to more familiar ground. 

‘I’m good to go bare, bello,’ replied Nicky, almost managing to purr again. ‘Clean and clear.’ 

Joe gave an almost inaudible sigh. 

‘When did you last access a sexual health service, including a walk-in testing clinic or PrEP clinic?’ asked Joe.

‘Ah—last month?’ Nicky said, too confused to come up with a sexy lie. 

‘And it was…?’ prompted Joe.

‘A… walk-in clinic?’ 

‘Thank you,’ said Joe, and there was an audible clatter of keyboard keys. ‘Was that the only time in the last six months you accessed this service?’ Joe’s chipper tone was barely clinging on. 

‘No…?’ 

‘How many times have you accessed sexual health services in the last six months?’ asked Joe, sounding more sure of himself, if less excited about it. 

The thing about this job was, you didn’t actually have to be particularly creative to do it. Usually, Nicky got through a call with a bit of performative moaning, some “accidental” Italian, and the handful of phrases that had been included in the script he’d been given when he did his two hours of training. He had never had to become quite so involved in a scenario before, and he didn’t really know what to do to make it good for the caller. For Joe. 

‘Twice?’ 

‘Yes or no, do you find you access these services more when you’re sexually active?’ Joe sounded almost reluctant to ask, some strange tone in his voice; a slowness, like he didn’t quite want to be saying what he was saying. 

‘Yes?’ Didn’t everyone? Was his kink unsafe sex? Was this just Joe’s very roundabout way of getting there?

‘And are you currently sexually active, Nicky?’ The strange tone was clearer in Joe’s voice. Nicky would be sure about calling it reluctance if Joe wasn’t the one who’d started the call. 

‘I’m active right now, gorgeous,’ said Nicky, making his voice as rough and breathy as he could. 

There was a rustle on the other end of the line, and the distant sound of Joe saying something in a language Nicky didn’t recognise. 

‘That’s it, baby,’ said Nicky, tugging at the zipper on his hoodie so the sound would carry through the phone line. It felt good to be back on familiar ground. ‘You sound so good, talk to me more. You’re getting me so worked up.’ 

‘Listen, asshole,’ snapped Joe, abruptly sounding much closer, like he was pressing the handset of his phone to his face. ‘I don’t have to take this from you, where do you get off being such a creep?’ 

‘Hey!’ Nicky snapped back, sitting up straight from where he’d been slouching against the wall. ‘You phoned me, how dare you?’ 

‘How dare I?’ demanded Joe, furiously. ‘I’m not the one hitting on someone doing their goddamn job.’ 

‘Oh fuck you,’ snapped Nicky, already mentally planning out his call to the switchboard to get Joe banned. ‘Is this your thing, calling and harassing workers on sex lines? Big fucking man, eh? Must make you feel fucking great.’ It took a lot not to give in to the instinct to curse him out in Italian—swearing in English just wasn’t as satisfying—but Nicky wanted to be sure Joe could understand exactly how little he thought of him.

There was a long pause, long enough that Nicky was almost certain Joe had hung up on him, and the dial tone was just delayed, when, finally, Joe spoke again. This time, his voice was small, almost meek. 

‘A… sex line?’ 

‘No,’ drawled Nicky, disgusted. ‘It’s the speaking clock.’

‘You’re a sex line?’ Joe asked again, sounding shell shocked. 

‘Who the fuck did you think you were phoning when the operator told you it was ten euro for the first five minutes and five for every five minutes after?’ Nicky wasn’t exactly sure why he hadn’t put the phone down yet. Probably his chronic inability to back down from a fight. 

‘I never…’ started Joe, before he coughed, and there was a rustle on the other end of the line, like a hand passing close to the microphone. ‘I never spoke to an operator. The lines cold-call automatically. I just wait for it to connect.’ 

‘What?’ Nicky looked at his phone screen again, as though the display could have magically changed since he last looked at it. Caller Withheld, it read mockingly.

‘I…’ 

‘No, I heard what you said,’ interrupted Nicky when Joe started to repeat himself. ‘What are you talking about?’ 

‘I’m… I’m just doing a survey to make some extra money,’ said Joe. ‘The numbers call themselves. At random, within five local authority areas.’ 

There was a long pause as both of them digested this. Nicky could hear Joe breathing on the other line, so he knew he hadn’t hung up, but he didn’t know quite where to go from here. 

‘So you… weren’t messing with me?’ Nicky managed at last, and Joe gave a somewhat-hysterical little laugh. The noise broke apart, too loud and full of breath for the microphone. 

‘So you were acting completely appropriately?’ returned Joe, sounding a little like he was smiling again. Nicky had to give it to him, in almost any other context, the way Nicky was flirting would have been wildly inappropriate. 

‘I don’t really know what to do now,’ said Nicky, nothing if not honest. Joe sighed, and there was another rustle. Nicky wondered what he was doing that brought him into contact with his microphone so much. Rubbing his mouth, maybe?

‘I don’t suppose I can actually use any of these answers,’ said Joe, more to himself than Nicky. 

‘No, all my answers were true,’ said Nicky. 

‘Really?’ Joe didn’t sound like he particularly believed him. Nicky couldn’t blame him. He shrugged, before he realised Joe couldn’t see him. 

‘It’s easier to maintain a lie if it’s mostly true,’ said Nicky, and Joe made a considering noise in response. 

‘Sorry if I’ve stopped you earning much tonight,’ said Joe eventually, after another brief, uncomfortable pause. ‘I… I don’t really know how this happened. I’ll probably need to inform the operations team.’ 

‘It shouldn’t be possible, as far as I know,’ said Nicky, before he admitted, ‘but then again, I don’t actually know anything about how these things work.’ 

Joe laughed, a bright surprised sound that seemed to fill the room, and Nicky found himself smiling, slightly pleased that he’d been the one to make him do it.

‘Thanks for the story, Nicky,’ said Joe, the sound of his laughter lingering in his voice. ‘Is that really your name?’ 

‘It is,’ replied Nicky. ‘Lies, truth, better to keep things simple.’ 

‘I understand, I think.’ Joe paused, and this time it wasn’t uncomfortable. ‘Thank you, Nicky. I hope our paths cross again.’ 

Nicky smiled.

‘I hope so too, Joe. Till then.’

‘Bye, Nicky.’

The dial tone wasn’t as warm as Joe’s voice had been before he hung up, and Nicky didn’t hesitate before swiping through to his work app and marking himself inactive. He’d had his fill of work for the evening. 

He really did hope to hear from Joe again, Nicky realised. There was something about him, something that even over the phone had stood out to Nicky. He had a feeling, he couldn’t quite explain it, but somehow he knew, this wasn’t the last time their paths would cross. 

Chapter Text

Nicky was never at his best first thing in the morning, particularly if he’d been working the night before. How he got from his bed to the only café near the uni he could trust to make coffee correctly on any given day, he couldn’t say. He woke, he washed his face, he was suddenly in public. More than once, somewhat alarmingly, he’d had to actually check under his coat that he’d even dressed before he’d left the house, and not just pulled his coat over his sleep shirt.

It wasn’t quite so dire a morning as all that, Nicky at least remembered picking up his bag and locking the front door, but it was rather close.

Close enough that when a laugh rang out through the shop, loud and bright and startlingly familiar, but in a way Nicky couldn’t quite place, he looked up from his mindless study of the pastry case to find the source entirely without thinking.

The source of the laughter was a man at the very front of the queue. He had soft curls, and a soft beard, wore a soft-looking jumper, and as Nicky watched, feeling very much like he was looking directly at the sun, he smiled a very soft smile at the young barista, who smiled nervously back.

It really was far too early to be reconsidering all the reasons he’d temporarily sworn off men.

It had been a while since Nicky had had the time or the inclination to go on a date. The last few he’d attempted had only gotten as far as hearing what his part-time job consisted of before either he or they, brought the proceedings to an abrupt halt. It hadn’t seemed worth the effort, after a while, meeting new people only to be confronted with their prejudices; their condemnation. Better to just put his head down and get through what he had to get through to be where he wanted to be.

It niggled at Nicky though, as he stared (he hoped discreetly) at the soft-looking man. He definitely didn’t know him, but that laugh had been so familiar. It had struck some chord in Nicky, some part of him had sat up to listen, even under all his fatigue.

As Nicky watched, the barista handed the man his drink at last, along with a parting comment Nicky couldn’t hear. Almost immediately, the man tipped his head back and laughed again, so brightly and loudly it seemed to fill the room to the rafters. Something clicked in Nicky's mind. 

‘Joe!’ exclaimed Nicky, before his brain caught up with him, and he slapped a hand over his mouth.

Almost as one it seemed, the entire café turned to look at him. Nicky could feel his cheeks burning under his hand and knew his ears were likely bright red, but there was nothing to be done about it. He’d remembered where he knew that laugh from, and the only thing he could possibly do about it would be to crawl under the pastry case and expire from sheer mortification.

Drink in hand, a pleasantly puzzled smile on his face, Joe stepped away from the counter and approached Nicky.

‘Do I know you?’ he asked, still smiling.

It had been a while since Nicky had prayed, but for a moment he prayed with his entire body that he was wrong, and it was entirely coincidental, and this man before him absolutely was not the man he’d accidentally mistaken for a client.

‘No,’ said Nicky.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Nicky.

‘I was mistaken, I apologise,’ said Nicky.

‘... Nicky?’ said Joe, his pleasant smile dropping off his face like ice cream melting in the sun.

Nicky closed his eyes, and remembered why he stopped praying.

*

‘What a small world,’ said Joe, weakly, rubbing his hand over his beard. Nicky tracked the movement and wondered if that gesture had been the source of all the rustling on the other end of the line that night six months before.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Nicky again, clutching at his coffee like a lifeline. Joe had dismissed his apologies the first time he'd given them, but maybe this time. ‘I spoke without thinking.’

‘I’m glad you did,’ said Joe. 'I wanted to talk to you again, it's just...' He gave a short sharp laugh, and shook his head. ‘Of all the gin joints…’

Nicky smiled, he couldn’t help it.

‘Are we calling this café yours then?’ he asked, relaxing a little in his seat.

‘I’ve been coming here long enough,’ Joe replied, smirking, ‘I must have some measure of claim to it by now.’

‘You can’t have been coming here longer than me,’ said Nicky, squinting at him. ‘I’ve never seen you in here before.’

Joe looked hunted for a brief second, before his face softened and he laughed again.

‘I don’t think I’ve ever been in here this early,’ he said, dragging a hand through his curls. Nicky tried to pretend he wasn’t watching the way they twisted around Joe’s fingers. ‘I usually come in around noon.’

Nicky had never been in the café that late. Who knew how long they’d been passing each other by.

‘What’s got you up so early?’ Nicky asked, taking a sip of his coffee. It was almost done, and he found himself lingering over the last few sips, dragging out his time.

‘Didn’t sleep well,’ said Joe with a shrug. ‘Eventually staying in bed anymore just seemed pointless. Thought I’d see if all those morning people have a point.’

‘Do they?’

Nicky had to get up early each morning, but that very much didn’t make him a morning person.

Joe laughed quietly and shook his head. He did that a lot, Nicky had realised early on in their conversation. A whole spectrum of laughs, from bright happy ones that crinkled his eyes and showed his charmingly crooked bottom teeth, to little bursts of air and sound when he got a touch too uncomfortable. It was fascinating, watching the shades and shapes of his amusement on his lovely face.

‘I think I’ll keep being a night owl, this morning nonsense isn’t for me,’ said Joe, before he paused, and looked up from his coffee at Nicky consideringly. ‘Although there are some benefits, I suppose.’

There was a clock on the wall behind Joe. Nicky had been studiously avoiding looking at it and its constant desire to inform him just how late he was for his study session with Nile as long as they’d been talking. With the last dregs of his coffee going cold in his mug, and no more excuses to linger, he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

‘I am glad to have met you, Joe,’ he said, setting his mug aside. ‘I’m sorry to have to leave, I’m very late, but thank you for speaking to me. It is good to clear the air.’

Joe looked slightly startled, and then even more so when he looked over his shoulder at the clock.

‘I am too,’ he said but made no move to stand. Just watched Nicky gather his things with a thoughtful expression on his face.

Nicky hesitated after he stood up from the table, glancing between Joe and the door, feeling unexpectedly unsure of what to do. He really did have to leave, but it felt wrong, somehow, to leave like this. It felt like he was forgetting to do something—like something was incomplete.

Joe watched him, that odd expression still on his face, and Nicky gave up trying to guess what it was he was forgetting.

‘Perhaps we’ll meet again,’ said Nicky, smiling ruefully at Joe, before he gave him a quick, awkward wave, and walked out.

*

Nicky barely made it five steps from the café door before regret hit him like a freight train.

How could he have had Joe sitting in front of him, smiling at him, laughing with him, and still walked away from him without asking for his number at least?

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, the strange sensation of having forgotten something resolved in Nicky’s chest. Uncaring how late he was, and determined to try, Nicky abruptly turned on his heel and took a step back towards the café.

Almost immediately, he slammed into someone and had to fumble to catch them before he knocked both of them to the ground.

‘I am so sorry,’ gasped Nicky, slightly winded by the elbow he’d caught in the stomach. In his arms, looking startled and then very quickly pleased, Joe blinked back at him.

‘You have to stop apologising to me,’ Joe said, grinning.

‘When I stop doing embarrassing things in front of you, then I will stop apologising,’ promised Nicky, letting go of Joe carefully when he was sure he would remain upright.

Faced with Joe again, looking bright and soft in the morning sun, Nicky’s surge of confidence started to wane. Joe had dismissed any apologies Nicky had tried to make about their first encounter all those months ago and had been nothing but kind in their conversation after, but the humiliation of it all lingered. Not only did Joe know what everyone else seemed to think was the worst of him, but he had also experienced it first hand. At best, he would probably be kind in turning Nicky down. He wasn’t sure he had it in him to be gently dismissed.

‘Nicky,’ said Joe, interrupting Nicky’s internal crisis, ‘I’m glad I managed to catch you.’

‘I think I caught you,’ said Nicky, entirely without thinking. Joe laughed, and the crinkles around his eyes made Nicky’s knees feel weak.

‘That’s true, but it doesn’t change that fact that I’m glad,’ Joe said, grinning. His lips were very pink in the bright sunshine, and it took everything in Nicky not to stare at them.

Fuck it, thought Nicky. It wasn’t like he could truly embarrass himself any more than he already had in front of this man.

‘Would you like to go out sometime, Joe? With me, I mean,’ asked Nicky, before he could chicken out again.

Joe blinked at him, and then his grin got wider, all his white teeth on display. Between his lips, his eyes, and his curls, Nicky hardly knew where to look.

‘I was going to ask you the same thing.’