Archive of Our Own

Hank Heywood is dead.

Sure, he wasn’t the greatest guy, especially with how he’d been kidnapping and experimenting on magical creatures behind their backs this whole time, but still, he was Nate’s dad.

Behrad has spent the last week or so helping the Heywood family with the funeral arrangements, all while still maintaining their cover story that says that he’s Nate’s very supportive, loving boyfriend. It’s been a long while since he even set foot on the Waverider.

Nate, who’s spent the last five minutes fumbling with his tie, has been moody all week-- unsure of whether to mourn Hank’s death or if he should just be grateful that they’ve got one less corrupt villain to deal with. Behrad doesn’t know what to say to him, not really, but he thinks that Nate at least deserves a chance to grieve for the father he wanted to have, whether or not that’s the father he actually got. 

They’re in Nate’s childhood bedroom, still decorated with the artifacts of his boyhood interests-- Miami Beach posters featuring scantily clad women, lots of Indiana Jones merch, assorted classic rock records-- getting ready for the funeral. There are guests coming in to mingle about the house, and he can hear the buzz through the door, but Nate is still staring into the corner of his room, cursing as he struggles with his necktie. 

“Here, let me,” Behrad says, getting up off the twin-sized bed and stepping towards Nate, who turns to face him with a sigh. He takes the two ends of Nate’s tie and begins to weave the knot. “I’ve got it.”

“Hey, uh, thanks for sticking around this past week.” Nate murmurs quietly, but they’re standing close enough that it’s no struggle to hear. It’s not a great angle, because Behrad is just a little bit too tall to get a good look at what he’s doing, and Nate has to sort of turn his head up and away to make room. Which works out, though, because they’re both avoiding eye contact, and Behrad doesn’t know if he could be here, standing nearly chest-to-chest with him if Nate were to tilt his glance over to look him in the eye.

“What are pretend-boyfriends for?” Behrad asks in response, aiming for a tone that says anything for my bro and nothing more, adjusting the knot to sit right under Nate’s collar. It’s crooked, though, and Behrad lays one hand on Nate’s chest to still him so that he can straighten it out.

“My mom’s gonna be so crushed when I tell her we broke up.” Nate says, shifting his gaze towards the array of posters splayed on the wall behind Behrad. 

“Then don’t.” Behrad says, without thinking. In surprise, Nate’s eyes meet his, and Behrad hurries to correct himself. “Uh-- I mean, she’s been going through a lot, yeah? We can pretend-break-up whenever we want.”

They’re standing so close, one of Behrad’s hands having migrated to where Nate’s neck meets his shoulder at some point, while the other lays over his tie-- almost over his heart. Nate says nothing, but his gaze flickers briefly downward, and it feels like they’re both leaning in, impossibly closer, and it takes everything in him for Behrad to turn his head just-so, enough for whatever might have happened to turn into a quick bro-hug. He punctuates the awkward thing with a pat on the shoulder and breaks away, just as quickly as it had occurred at all, and clears his throat. 

“We should, um-- we should probably get out there.” He runs a hand through his hair, gesturing with the other towards the door. “Are you ready for this?”

“No,” Nate says, “but I don’t think we really have a choice.”

Silently, Behrad steps forward, opening the door and moves aside to let Nate exit first, and as he follows, he closes the door gently behind him. 

The Heywoods’ spacious home is filled with strangers: people who knew Hank in any capacity, whether that was at the bureau in some way, through some financial connection, or from personal relationships, though who can say how personally any of them knew him, if he could be running terrible experiments beneath all of their noses? Nate leads the way, through the sea of suits and black dresses, accepting their condolences politely, but quickly, while Behrad hovers behind him, nodding politely to them in greeting as he and Nate move through the crowd.

“Oh, Nathaniel,” Dot’s voice rings past the respectfully-low chatter and the string music as she spots them. “I need you to make a toast later. Tell everyone what an amazing man your father was.”

“Yeah, mom, I don’t think that’s a great idea.” Behrad can see in the way Nate’s shoulders tense that that’s the last thing he wants to do-- lie to a bunch of strangers about how wonderful he thinks his dead father was-- and so he steps forward, next to him and before he can talk himself out of it, gently wraps an arm around Nate’s shoulders to soothe him.

“What? Of course it is!” Dot frowns. Nate looks like he wants to object, to say that Hank wasn’t an amazing man at all, and to tell her everything that they’ve learned, but Behrad tightens his grip just enough to stop him, inching closer. “And Behrad, I’m so glad that you’re here for Nathaniel to lean on right now.”

“Yeah, um,” Behrad leans closer to Nate and offers her what he hopes is a convincing smile,  “you know me, I’m-- I’m his rock.”

“Oh, how sweet,” she coos. “Now, I hate to split you two up, but Behrad, darling, you’re so tall-- do you mind helping me out in the kitchen? We’ve run out of napkins and I can’t quite reach the top shelf in the pantry.”

Behrad looks first towards Nate, who gives him the go-ahead via a quick nod, and so he reluctantly steps away from Nate’s side to help Dot. He doesn’t like the idea of leaving Nate alone right now, but it’s starting to become difficult to be near him without doing something that they’ll both regret.

Dot weaves her way through the crowd so quickly that it’s hard to keep up– she’s tiny and light on her feet and navigates around the guests with the practiced ease of a woman who’s been married to a man like Hank for years, even dropping in and out of conversations as she goes, and Behrad follows awkwardly behind her, nodding hello and goodbye in quick succession as he tries to keep up. 

The pantry isn’t far from where he’d left Nate, but it feels like a real achievement to have made it all the way there by the time Dot opens the door to show him where the spare napkins are kept, and she’s right, they’re high up enough that even he has to stretch to grab the bin.

“Thank you, dear,” she smiles, clasping her hands together. “Could you also grab that one– on the left, the white box–”

Behrad reaches up with his free hand to retrieve it, and nearly drops it on the way down, but manages to catch it just in time.

“Oh, thank you,” Dot says. Then, she sighs, looking tired for the first time all day, which just reminds him of how hard this must be for her. “You’ve been so helpful, I can’t thank you enough. You know, it’s always been hard for Nathaniel. When he was a child, we were so afraid for his health that he didn’t have many friends growing up because he couldn’t go out and play with the other boys, and then when he went off to college, he was so buried in his books and his research… Henry and I have always– had always, excuse me… We always worried about him. But I’m so glad to see that he’s found someone who cares about him as much as we do. I’m so grateful that he has you, Behrad. I hope that you feel like a part of our family, even during this dark time.”

“Oh, um, it’s nothing,” Behrad manages, hoping that it sounds like humility more than it does like an admission of guilt. It’s all a lie– not that he’s here for Nate, or that he cares about him, of course, but knowing that Dot wants him to feel like a part of their family, it only tightens the knot in his stomach. This woman has just lost her husband– a husband that’s been lying to her and everyone else in his life– and this is just another lie that she knows nothing about.

“It means everything. My son is lucky to have you. We all are.” She smiles gently, patting his arm. Then, she brightens up, plastering that polite hostess persona back on, which he now sees the cracks in, the exhaustion that lies underneath. “If you wouldn’t mind, could you help set things up over by the table? I have to go speak with the string quartet about the program.”

As soon as he nods, she dashes away, leaving him to carry the boxes over to the array of finger-foods in the dining room, and the moment he’s done, he starts scanning the crowd. He doesn’t see Nate anymore, but he sees Ray, looking incredibly nervous as he talks to Sara, and Behrad makes a beeline for them.

“Did I hear you say ‘Legends assemble’?” He whispers as he approaches, “Because I could really use an excuse to get out of here.”

“Hey, what’s up?” Nate asks, turning the corner to join them.

“Nothing!” Sara says quickly. “Uh, there’s a fugitive alert, but it can wait.”

“No, you should go. It’s hard enough that I have to play pretend. You guys shouldn’t.” Nate shakes his head. Behrad catches his eye, Nate nods, and that’s all the permission he needs to get out of here as fast as his feet will take him.

“Okay,” Sara agrees, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before she heads out. Ray follows suit, which is awkward because he definitely didn’t mean to go in for the kiss, but by the time he realized it was too late to back out. Nate looks surprised by it, but appreciative nonetheless as Ray races away to follow Sara.

“Bye Nate.” Behrad says, wrapping his friend in a hug. Nate returns the embrace, maybe a little tighter than usual, and it lasts just a little bit too long, before Behrad tears himself away and leaves, fighting the urge to look back.

---

Something’s up with Jane Austen, and that means that Mona wants to come on the mission, which at this point is probably the least they can do for her after everything she’s been through lately. Ray decides to QB on this one, from his bedroom, which they all decide is pretty weird. Also weird is how Mona takes a nice, long whiff of the air in Behrad’s general vicinity.

“I think my sense of smell has improved because of Wolfie.” She explains. “And you smell exactly like… Nate.”

“No, I don’t.” He scoffs. “You’ve got your wires crossed, it’s probably, y’know, all the weed, or something messing with your nose--”

“It’s definitely Nate-- Nate and something else…” Mona sniffs again, leaning closer. “Arousal?”

Behind him, Charlie doesn’t even bother trying to hide their laughter, and Sara raises her eyebrows at him, getting that mischievous look on her face that he doesn’t trust an inch.

“Okay, sure, I smell like Nate, because we just hugged before we left. I hug my bros all the time. No big deal.” Behrad protests, probably a little too vehemently. “And ‘arousal’? I mean– I’m a young, healthy guy. I’m pretty sure we’re always like that. And I don’t- I don’t like Nate, that would be crazy! And besides, this is so not the right time--”

“He likes you.” Sara interrupts, leaning onto the console and resting her chin on one hand. “He confessed it when he swallowed the truth bug.”

“He what?” Behrad whips around to stare at her. Charlie smacks him on the arm.

“C’mon, how long has it been since you last got laid?” They ask gleefully. He gives them a look, because she already knows the answer to that question. She was there. “Why don’t you just go smash Nate?”

“Or, better yet, you should go smash somebody else, because if you’re still thinking about Nate, then you know you’re really into him.” Sara grins. Behrad fights the urge to do what Ray has just done and run off to hole up in his room to hide from this mortifying conversation. Technically, he’s already gone and smashed someone else, though it wasn’t exactly what was on his mind when he slept with Charlie. And yeah, he’s still thinking about Nate, but that doesn’t mean anything-- who hasn’t had a little crush on their best friend before?

“Why don’t you talk to Nate? Tell him how you feel?” Mona suggests, so earnestly that it almost makes him want to do it. But he can’t-- it’s all caught up in their lie, and Nate’s certainly in no place to be thinking about dating Behrad of all people, even if Sara says that he said he’s interested. For all Behrad knows, they could both just be confused, maybe too wrapped up in their fake relationship to be able to tell the difference between real and fake feelings for each other.

“Oh, boo .” Charlie complains.

“That’s a terrible idea.” Sara agrees.

“I don’t-- you guys-- I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.” Behrad buries his face in his hands. “Can we just go get dressed and get on with the mission?”

“Hey, you were the one who told me to ask Ava out,” Sara points out. And then they all go quiet, because yeah, that’s not going so well. He can see in the slight frown that sets on her face that she kind of wishes she hadn’t brought it up. “Anyways, you’re right, let’s go, we’ve got work to do.”

They all head off to the fabricator room to get ready, but there’s no more talk about smashing or about feelings, only cold silence.

---

Bath, England. 1802

The tension dissolves once they get off the ship, when it really sinks in for Mona that she’s in Georgian England. It’s been a tough time for everyone lately, between the woman Ray’s in love with killing Nate’s dad and Sara’s breakup and Konane’s death, but even so, Mona is able to be so genuinely excited about being here that her joy is infectious, a much-needed breath of fresh air. Plus, Behrad had Gideon fabricate an extra strong brownie for him before he went.

A gust of wind blows Mona’s peachy bonnet to the ground, and she gasps, clutching at her now-uncovered head.

“I’ve got it,” Behrad assures her, rushing over and crouching down to pick it up off the ground. 

“Look out!” Someone cries, accompanied by the sound of horse hooves, and Behrad turns to see a carriage headed his way. He falls back as the horses rear to a stop, barely soon enough to avoid crashing into him.

“Ow,” he complains. Sara starts to move towards him and help him up, but stops all of a sudden, and a different figure fills his vision.

“Forgive me,” It’s the man who’d called out, dismounted from the carriage he’d been driving, tall and handsome in a nice red coat and wearing a black hat. The man offers his hand and Behrad takes it, letting him pull him back to his feet.  “Are you hurt?”

“No, uh, only my pride.” Behrad says, stupidly, brushing the dirt off of his trousers.

“Injured pride is a small thing,” the man laughs a little, with a voice like warm honey, then leans down to pick up Mona’s forgotten bonnet and hands it to Behrad, “if it allowed us to meet.”

“What’s the holdup there?” An older man’s voice calls from the carriage. “Come, come, I say.”

“Duty calls.” the coachman says, not looking away from Behrad. He bows, and Behrad clumsily returns the gesture, which makes him grin, before he turns away to return to his work. “Apologies, Lord Remington, we’ll be on our way shortly.”

“Uh, here.” Behrad hands Mona her bonnet and coughs into his hand as an excuse to hide his face from Sara and Charlie, who break out into giggles the moment the carriage rolls away. 

“ Only  my pride ,” Sara bows, in an exaggerated imitation. Charlie’s giggles grow into a cackle.

“I should have stayed at the funeral.” Behrad complains, walking faster but they just keep laughing, and even Mona laughs along as they head toward the church for whatever wedding derails Jane Austen’s career.

---

The wedding quickly devolves from a series of impromptu love confessions into some sort of… orgy. Which is kind of hilarious, but mostly just baffling. Although, compared to the other messes caused by fugitives that they’ve dealt with, this one feels pretty harmless. Ridiculous, but harmless. Charlie, at least, seems to have enjoyed the chaos of it all before they ran back to the Waverider to tell Ray what they’ve learned. Even Sara seems to have a bemused sort of appreciation for it, and Mona’s practically swooning at all of the unhindered declarations of love. Normally, Behrad would be pretty entertained by it too, but his heart’s not in it today.

“So, the bride and the scullery maid, that was…” Sara remarks as they exit the chapel.

“Insane?” Behrad offers.

“Romantic,” Mona sighs wistfully.

“I was gonna say hot .” Sara grins.

“Okay, yeah, but that definitely didn’t happen in actual history.” Behrad shakes his head, following them down the path.

“Ray, Charlie, what’ve you got?” Sara asks, pressing one hand to her earpiece.

“This wedding was the second of a series of lust outbreaks in 1802.” Charlie reports gleefully.

“Yeah, the sexual revolution came a couple hundred years too early.” Ray says.

“Why would it make Jane Austen stop writing?” Sara asks. Then, she stops and pivots towards Behrad and Mona. “We need more info.”

“Well, Jane Austen was known for being a keen social observer,” Mona shrugs, “So if anyone were to notice a new magical arrival in town, it would be her.”

“Okay, let’s go interview Jane.”

“Oh, hang on a tick,” Charlie interrupts, just as Sara starts to head out. “The people with the real dirt? Always the servants.”

Sara’s face lights up, and she gives Behrad a smug look. “Like a handsome coachman, perhaps? Hmm?”

“Fine, I’ll go ask him some questions.” He raises his hands in surrender. At this point, he’ll take any excuse to get away from Sara and Charlie’s teasing. “But it’s just reconnaissance! Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time you had a little fling with someone from history. Jonah Hex ring any bells?” Sara grins. Mona gasps. 

“Oooh, Jonah Hex? Who’s that?” Charlie asks through comms, and he can hear the delight in their voice. “Is he also tall, dark and handsome? D’you have a type, B?”

“No– I mean, I don’t– I’m leaving.” Behrad sputters, turning around and walking away, cheeks warm. Charlie’s cackling laugh rings out through the speaker in his ear, and Sara snickers behind him.

“Go get him, tiger!” She hollers after him as he stalks away, as fast as he can, and it only makes him walk faster, as quickly as he can without outright running.

The cool air is a relief on his skin, which has grown unbearably hot. He unbuttons his wool coat and loosens the collar of his shirt as he walks, and that in combination with the solitude helps clear his head. He loves his friends, he really does, and he’s usually a pretty good sport about this kind of razzing, but he’d come on this mission to avoid talking about boys. 

He passes by some locals, who point him in the direction of the Remington estate when he asks. He doesn’t know exactly where the coachman might be, but he figures that’s a good place to start.

---

It wasn’t that he was in love with Wally, maybe in the same way that he isn’t exactly sure that he’s in love with Nate. And he’s happy that Wally is off traveling the world and finding himself, he really is. But still, it stung when he left so quickly, just like that. It’s always happened this way– Behrad finds himself kind-of-sort-of clinging to one of his best friends, and then before he knows what to do with himself, they take off. Sure, Wally had the advantage of literal speed on his side when he left, but it’s always felt like this; when Charlie abandoned his feline self in the jumpship, when Nate decided to step away from the ship to work with the Bureau, when Jax went back home to 2018– even Amaya, when she went back to Zambesi. It’s not really as much a matter of romance or attraction as it is a reminder that no matter what Behrad does, he’s never been enough for them to stay.

Rationally he knows it’s not about him; every one of them had their own reasons to leave, and he respects that, and wishes the best for each of them. But maybe it would be nice if it were about him for once– if someone were infatuated enough with him that they’d choose to stay, even if they should go, even if he could never ask them to. It’s a selfish thought, and one that he isn’t proud of having, but it’s one that he comes back to over and over. Maybe if he’d done more to help Wally get over his ex, or if he’d been able to help Jax when they lost Stein, either of them might have stayed on the ship. Maybe if he’d been less wrapped up in the oh no, we’ve got dragons now? freakout, he could have been there for Nate when he was feeling lonely enough to want to get off of the ship after Amaya left. Maybe if he’d been more of a good sport about it all, Zari would have put less distance between her business empire and home. 

And he’s trying to be a good friend now, to Nate, without wanting anything more, even though they’re caught in this lie about their relationship, and he’s doing his best, but he can’t shake the feeling that if he screws up even once that it’ll end as it always has, and he’ll be left behind again. But it’s really tempting to hope that maybe if he does have feelings for Nate, and if Nate has feelings for him too, then maybe things will be different.

He’s so wrapped up in his thoughts, pretending to peek behind the various hay-filled nooks and crannies, that he doesn’t notice that anyone else is already inside the stables. Not until someone behind him clears their throat, and Behrad spins around to find the coachman, who looks absolutely delighted to see him. 

“What a pleasure to see you again,” the man says, and even though he’s holding a shovel that Behrad is pretty sure is used to clean up actual horse-shit, he finds his face growing warm.

“Uh, you too.”

“This stable is hardly a place for someone as beautiful as you,” he smiles, “and yet, your beauty fills this place with light.”

“Well, you’re not so bad yourself. Are you, uh, are you from around here?” Maybe he’s a local; he might have some insight on whatever caused the sudden outbreak of lust at the chapel.  “I’m, uh, new in town.” 

“Yes, I think I would remember if I had seen you before.”

“Maybe you could show me around, then,” Behrad suggests. “Give me the rundown of what’s what. Like, uh, I don’t know if you heard about what happened at that wedding today?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.” The man says– but his tone sounds utterly unsurprised, and Behrad is pretty sure that he knows exactly what he means. “Tell me, what happened at this wedding?”

“Um, well, the bride declared her undying love for the scullery maid,” Behrad starts, rubbing at his neck, feeling the other man’s gaze on him as he slowly makes his way over. “And then some other people started declaring their undying love for each other, and then there was a lot of kissing–”

“Kissing?” He asks, drawing closer and closer, and raising one hand to lay on Behrad’s shoulder and the other to meet Behrad’s on the back of his neck. “How enticing.”

“Yeah, it was crazy,” Behrad breathes, leaning in. “It was sort of like this.”

And then their lips meet, and all thoughts of the wedding are gone; it’s just strong arms wrapped around his waist, a firm chest against his, short-cropped hair beneath his hands.

This isn’t like him, despite Sara and Charlie’s encouraging hoots about getting laid with the next hot guy he comes across. He’s not really that kind of person, or maybe he’s never really given it the chance. But it feels good , letting loose like this, as the coachman’s hands move along his back, their warmth seeping into his skin despite the layers of linen and wool. Behrad finds himself grasping at the billowy white fabric of the other man’s sleeves, at the smooth weave of his vest, at the prickly hair at the base of his neck.

It would be easy to lose himself in this, making out with a handsome stranger, but this is truly just so unlike him, and the lack of surprise at his story about the wedding means that Behrad is pretty certain that this coachman is their magical fugitive. He leans impossibly further into the other man’s embrace, relishing in the deep sigh the coachman makes when he does, and yeah: it would be so easy to just forget about the mission, but the sensible part of him that reminds him that he really shouldn’t. Especially not if this guy really is the cause of that mess at the chapel, so he tears himself out from the coachman’s grasp, backing a few steps away.

“Sorry, I just– this is moving kind of fast,” He says, breathless.

“I agree,” the other man says, also kind of flustered. “What is your name?”

“Behrad.” He answers. He can’t believe he’s been making out with this guy without even knowing his name . His gaze falls to the other man’s mouth, where he soundlessly tests Behrad’s name on his lips, then smiles gently. “What’s yours? Actually– no, don’t answer that, you don’t kiss like any guy I’ve ever met… but you aren’t just any guy, are you?”

Still smiling, the man glances downward, reaching underneath his own collar and pulls out a pendant which begins to glow gold in his hand. The glow spreads through his fingers, as if coming from beneath his skin, and shimmers bright enough to pass through the pale linen of his shirt as it runs across his body.

“I am Kamadeva,” he declares, voice echoing through the stables. The glow dissipates, shimmering away, and he stares Behrad in the eye, gaze warm. “The Hindu god of love.”

“Huh,” Behrad recognizes the name– he’s read up on this sort of thing, and he’d be lying if he said part of why he recognizes it isn't because of the Kama Sutra – and it doesn’t shock him as much as it probably should. Of course this guy is some sort of love god. He should probably be freaked out by that revelation, but all he can say is, “That’s awesome.”

He thinks about it, for half a second, about how he really shouldn’t, and how he should probably update the rest of the team on this new bit of knowledge. Instead, he draws Kamadeva in for another kiss, pushing forward and guiding him back so he can press the other man against the walls of the stable and pulling the creaky wooden door shut behind them.

It’s all part of the plan, he tells himself. A classic seduction play as a way to distract the target. And this is definitely distracting Kamadeva, if the wandering hands slipping inside of his coat and across his back are any indication. Behrad meets Kamadeva’s hands with his own, pulling them away from his body and up towards the door, interlocking their fingers as he presses them against the wood. 

He almost feels bad, using this as an opportunity to take Kamadeva in and complete the mission, because this is actually kind of fun. It’s a similar thrill to last year, in Salvation, when he’d been flirting with Jonah Hex, and when he’d kissed him goodbye, but this time, he gets to really indulge it in a way that he hadn’t been able to then. Behrad isn’t proud of what he’s doing right now– though he’s not exactly ashamed of it, either– but he thinks that this is better than the alternative: giving into temptation with Nate and risking ruining their friendship.

He presses a knee between Kamadeva’s and releases his hands, because he’s not really sure where to take this now– he can’t just keep him pressed up against the wall until the others come looking for him, can he? Maybe he can, Behrad thinks, as Kamadeva’s hands return to their earlier exploration, pulling at his shirt until it comes untucked, pushing at his coat until it’s not quite on his shoulders anymore. Maybe he can just hang out here, making out with a very handsome love god. It’s not like it would be the first time someone on this team got sidetracked in the name of hot historical hookups. He keeps kissing Kamadeva, resting one hand on his chest and the other one stroking encouragingly across his bicep. It isn’t until Kamadeva’s hands start working at the buttons of Behrad’s waistcoat that he gets an idea. 

Kamadeva undoes his waistcoat and wiggles the straps of Behrad’s suspenders off of his shoulders. Behrad detaches the suspenders from his pants, and takes Kamadeva’s hands again to push them against the wood over their heads. It’s good that he does, too, because through the door, he hears voices approaching, and he hurries to wrap the suspenders’ long straps around Kamadeva’s wrists, eliciting a surprised, but encouraging moan. 

“Behrad!” Sara yells through the door, “We think you might be dealing with–”

“The fugitive?” He asks, pulling Kamadeva away from the door and swinging it open, revealing his disheveled and disappointed captive. He lets himself feel a little bit smug, pretending that his own outfit isn’t just as rumpled and his hair isn’t mussed from their literal roll in the hay. “Yeah, I know. This is Kamadeva.”

“As in… the namesake of the Kama Sutra , Kamadeva?” Mona raises her eyebrows high enough to disappear beneath her bangs, and Behrad just nods, avoiding Sara’s impressed, knowing look.

“Yeah, well, I’m not going to sleep with a magical fugitive,” Behrad scoffs, as if he hadn’t slept with Charlie weeks ago. And that doesn’t even really count– she wasn’t a fugitive anymore at that point.

“You are incredible ,” Kamadeva breathes, somehow seeming even more excited than he was when they were kissing. “No one has ever before resisted my charms.”

Sara rolls her eyes and grabs Kamadeva by the arm, dragging him away as he smiles dreamily at Behrad.

“I would follow you to the world’s end,” Kamadeva calls out to him, head turned over his shoulder to gaze longingly at him even as Sara and Mona usher him out of the barn. Behrad’s grateful that they have to get him into the brig as soon as possible, because it means that Sara can’t quite tease him for this just yet, and he’s got a bit of time before Mona starts gushing about the romance of it all. If the circumstances were different, it would have been nice. But there’s too much going on, and as much as he’d love to forget about it all and hook up with a sexy love god, he owes it to the team– and to Nate, he reminds himself, who he literally abandoned at a funeral– to take this seriously and stay on track.

---

“I only sought to grant people the courage to follow their heart’s desire,” Kamadeva protests from inside the lab’s holding cell, tapping on the forcefield. He fixes Behrad in his deep, hopeful stare, and Behrad looks away, flushed.

“I think he likes you,” Charlie laughs, elbowing him in the side. He scowls and elbows them back.  

“Gideon, get us out of here,” Behrad says, focusing on literally anything else. He can practically feel Charlie holding back her mirth at this whole debacle.

“I’m not so sure we can go yet,” Mona grimaces, holding up evidence that Jane Austen hasn’t resumed her writing career.

“Ms. Wu is correct,” Gideon confirms. “The historical records still indicate that Jane Austen’s career is in jeopardy.”

“We caught the fugitive, so what’s the problem?”

“Well, it’s too late to knock on Jane Austen’s door tonight. We’ll talk to her tomorrow.” Sara sighs.

“So, I’m to spend the night…” Kamadeva trails off, glancing suggestively at Behrad.

“Alone.” Behrad confirms. A part of him really does want to throw caution to the wind, just this once, but at this point it’s a matter of pride, and he doesn’t want to deal with the razzing he’d get from the others even if hooking up with the fugitive were a viable option.

“Oh, what a waste,” Charlie laments. She blows a kiss towards Kamadeva as she exits, Mona offers him a little wave goodbye, and Behrad pivots and stalks out as quickly as he can.

“I can’t believe you almost slept with a magical fugitive.” Sara says, as they walk through the corridor. “We’re a bad influence on you, B. But in your defense, he’s throwing heart-eyes in your direction even more than the ol’ sheriff last year.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” Charlie snickers, throwing an arm across Behrad’s shoulders. They’re short enough that it pulls him down, and he shrugs them off.

“What? B, when could you possibly have– wait. Charlie ? You two?” Sara raises an eyebrow, pointing at each of them with both hands, and Mona gasps dramatically. Instead of a verbal question, Sara makes a truly obscene series of gestures with her hands that makes Mona’s eyes grow wide and her cheeks turn pink. Charlie nods triumphantly to confirm, and Behrad looks up at the ceiling instead of answering. “ Damn , how did I miss that?”

“I’m never talking to any of you again.” Behrad complains. This only sets Mona and Charlie off into laughter, and he’s sure that Sara’s grinning like mad, though he refuses to look. 

“It’s too bad that my powers were still out then, we could have had so much fun. Especially if I knew that you had a type .” Charlie remarks, and Mona giggles. 

“Okay, goodbye,” Behrad throws his hands up in surrender and turns around to find literally anywhere else to be on the ship instead of here. New plan: he’s going to go lock himself in his room and get as high as he can and hope that by tomorrow morning, they’ll leave him be.

“Ooh, Kamadeva’s that way,” Sara tells him, and he groans, turning the next corner that will take him away from the lab, and he hears their laughter ring through the hall even as he gets further and further away.

---

Behrad leans his head back, grip tightening on the edge of the table he’s perched on. Kamadeva’s broad hands press down, a firm weight upon Behrad’s thighs. He doesn’t know how they got here, but that’s the last thing on his mind right now, not when there’s a beautiful man kneeling down in front of him. 

Kamadeva surges upward, hands trailing up slowly over Behrad’s thighs, framing his waist, then brushing across his bare chest, underneath his open shirt before they find his jaw and finally capture him in a kiss. He presses into the other man, standing back up again to avoid being pushed over to lie down on the table– which wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, sure, but maybe later. For now, he wiggles away from Kamadeva’s hands just long enough to shrug his shirt off of his shoulders and tosses it somewhere onto the floor, and gets right back to business.

Then, another pair of large, warm hands find Behrad’s waist as he continues to kiss Kamadeva, letting his own hands wander over the god’s bare chest and strong arms. He’s not so lost in the kiss that he doesn’t feel the heat of a broad chest pressing itself up against the bare skin of his back as the hands on his waist wander, one straying up towards his chest and the other reaching lower to tease at the waistband of his jeans. Behrad sighs against Kamadeva’s lips, one hand falling down from where he’d been gripping at Kamadeva’s shoulder to meet the hand by his own hip.

“Nate,” he whispers, turning his head to the side when he feels his best friend’s mouth on his neck. Nate hums slightly, pressing a kiss against the turn of his jawline before returning to the soft flesh of his neck, biting lightly and sucking a bruise. 

This is definitely a dream. He can tell: it’s way too good to be true. But, pressed between Nate and Kamadeva, their hands and mouths all across his skin, he can’t find it in himself to care.

---

Sara already has a tall glass of ice water ready for him by the time he manages to roll out of bed and make his way to the kitchen. It was all just a dream but he doesn’t feel like he’s slept at all . And from a glance out the window on the way over, it looks like he really hasn’t; it’s still dark outside, but it looks like everyone else had the same idea.

“Did the fugitive get to you too?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, taking the cup from her and pressing it to his neck in an effort to cool off. “Thanks.”

“Well, personally, I really enjoyed my night blowing David Bowie’s mind,” Charlie grins, sidling over to sit uncomfortably close to him at the island. “What about you, B, who’d you get a leg over? No– let me guess. Nate? Or Kamadeva. Ooh, was I there?”

“No,” he scowls, batting their hands away when they try to poke his cheek. “You weren’t there.”

“Or was it both of them?” Sara asks, raising an eyebrow. “Nate and Kamadeva, I mean.”

Behrad chooses to take a long sip of his ice water instead of saying anything, which in itself is enough of an answer.

“Both, eh?” Charlie whistles. “Damn, B, you’re a naughty one, aren’t you! What about you, wolfie?”

They all glance towards Mona, who’s been quiet this whole time, and she doesn’t look any more inclined to answer now that she’s been asked.

“You dreamt about Konane.” Sara realizes. Mona nods miserably, still glaring, and takes her cup over to sit at the dining table. Behrad exchanges a look with Sara, then follows Mona to sit with her, while Charlie and Sara linger by the bar, pretending not to listen.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Behrad tells her. “Do you want to… do you want to talk about him?”

And then she starts crying, shoulders shaking as she curls in on herself.

“He had the sweetest eyes,” Mona manages, shakily. “And when he would look at me, the whole world would disappear. And now he’s dead.” 

“I’m sorry,” he says, lamely. “But you at least had some time together. He’ll always be with you in your heart. And you’ll find someone–”

“Someone else?” She asks. “He’s not– Konane isn’t replaceable –”

“Oh, no I didn’t mean–”

“Just because you’re fine with making excuses waiting around for love when it’s right in front of your face doesn’t mean that the rest of us can afford to.”

“Hey, not everything has to be about romance,” Behrad tries, but Mona stands up, no longer crying, her cheeks flushed with anger. 

“Well, not for you . Not if you never try, not if you never take a risk.”

“Mona, please calm down–” He starts, but her eyes glow gold and a growl builds up in her throat and he raises his hands in surrender, backing away.

“Guys, let’s just take a breath.” Sara finally comes over to intervene, Charlie at her side.

“Maybe I’m stupid for being a romantic,” Mona gets out, pressing forward even as she has to really crane her neck to look Behrad defiantly in the eye, “But at least I gave it a shot. Konane may not have been human, but at least he wasn’t a coward.”

Then the growl builds up again, and Mona lurches forward, flesh warping and growing, and Behrad steps backwards as Wolfie emerges and turns, swatting one of the chairs aside. It crashes into the wall, and Charlie cheers.

“Finally! You look wicked , mate!” They say, right before Wolfie swings a clawed hand and sends Charlie flying across the kitchen. She runs out of the kitchen before Behrad or Sara can do anything to stop her. 

“Mona!” Sara yells, running after her, and Behrad rushes over to Charlie, who’d knocked over a bunch of glassware on the way down and landed in the shards. 

“You okay?”

“Ugh, yeah,” Charlie grumbles, letting Behrad help her to her feet. “It was worth it, I think. Been trying to get her to let loose for ages.”

“I don’t know, maybe we could do with a little less looseness right now.” He says as Charlie brushes the bits of broken glass off of her pajamas. “You should get to medbay. I’m gonna, uh–”

“You’re gonna go have a chat with ol’ Kamadeva, are you?” They grin. “Or are you gonna go have a chat ?”

Behrad rolls his eyes and heads out into the corridor towards the lab.

---

“You shouldn’t mess with people’s dreams,” He says, as he enters. Kamadeva is sitting on the floor of the cell, with a knowing smile on his face. “Seriously, you don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

“My powers don’t create passion out of thin air,” Kamadeva chuckles. “Whomever you dreamt about, you truly desire.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to go after it.”

“You sound like someone who’s never fallen in love.” 

“I’m not sure I’d go that far,” Behrad says, defensively, and it only brightens the gleam in Kamadeva’s eyes.

“A life without love is no life at all.”

“What does a god know about the human heart?” 

“My real name is Sunjay.” Kamadeva stands, pulling the vial from the stables off of its chain around his neck and holds it up for Behrad to see. “I was born thousands of years ago.When the actual Kamadeva was immolated by Shiva, I gathered his ashes in this vial. They bestowed powers I could have scarcely imagined”

“And you’re telling me this because…”

“Because I like you. And I have this feeling that you’re holding back, that you’re scared of something, and it’s making you turn inward, but if you had the chance to let loose, you’d be even more radiant than you already are. Unless… you lack the courage?”

Maybe Behrad does lack the courage to let loose, to open himself up to someone else and let them in, the way that Mona had let Konane into her life so freely. Maybe he does lack the courage, to be honest, terrified of what it would mean to let people in on not just his knowledge of the future, but also what it would mean to lay himself bare to another person. 

“And what if I do?” He asks. “What if I do ‘lack the courage’?”

“Then perhaps I can be of assistance.” Kamadeva– no, Sunjay says, opening the vial and tipping it over his wrist and letting some of the shimmering dust spill out.

Well, it wouldn’t be the first time he let a hot guy give him a hit. 

---

They spend what feels like an eternity running around the empty streets of Bath, until eventually they settle on a park bench, Behrad slouched down in his seat and resting his head on Sunjay’s warm shoulder, pressed up against his side. At some point during their frolicking, Sunjay clasped his own necklace around Behrad’s neck, and Behrad stares at the ornate vial now, twisting it around absentmindedly.

“What’s on your mind?” Sunjay murmurs, arm around Behrad’s shoulders and stroking his upper arm gently.

“Have you ever…” He starts, unsure of how to phrase it. “Have you ever known something that you really wish you didn’t? Like, something that nobody else knows, but if they did, so many things could go wrong, so you can’t say anything? And it’s not really anything bad, it’s just that… I can’t share it.  I want to, because it’s a part of me, so hiding it feels like I’m… pretending to be someone else.”

He shares this, a half-truth of what he’s been hiding, because he knows that this one’s going to come out in the open eventually. And it’s a lot easier to confide in Sunjay, who doesn’t know any of the details, who likely wouldn’t be affected much by it. Because if things did go wrong, Behrad doesn’t know him well enough to miss him all that much. He probably wouldn’t have admitted even this much without the aid of Kamadeva’s ashes, but as soon as the words leave his mouth, he has to admit that he feels just a little bit better.

“I think that everyone deserves to feel free enough to be themselves." Sunjay says, pressing his lips against Behrad’s hairline. “I think you deserve to feel like you can do anything you’d like.”

“Yeah, that would be nice,” He agrees.

“And what is it that you’d like to do? If you could do anything at all, with no fear, no consequences?”

“Let’s get married.” Behrad blurts out without thinking. At this moment, it sounds like a great idea. So great, it’s almost like music is playing all around them. He thinks he might even be singing, but isn’t quite sure. “In the morning, let’s go ask the parson to marry us.”

“A Christian wedding?” Kamadeva asks with a laugh. “For two men-- men like us --  in 1802?” 

“Men can marry men where I’m from– Hindu, Muslim, it doesn’t matter.” He’s dancing now, and it feels amazing . “Let’s stop thinking with our heads and start feeling with our hearts.”

---

“I can’t believe I almost married a fugitive who already has a thousand wives.” Behrad knocks his head back against the wall. Charlie rubs his shoulder sympathetically, sitting on the armrest of his parlour chair. "In a Christian ceremony. My parents would kill me.” 

Not to mention his sister. If Zari knew, she’d never let him hear the end of it.

“I can’t believe that you hijacked our ladies mission and made it about two men.” Sara smirks.

“Oi, who’re you calling a lady!” Charlie laughs, tossing a pen in her direction. Sara catches it and sends it right back, hitting Charlie on the forehead. “Damn those assassin reflexes.”

“I’m just glad I got there in time.” Mona sighs, perched up on the center table. But she smiles, fully, maybe for the first time since they’d first arrived in Georgian England. “I mean, thirty more seconds and you’d be a divorcee right now!”

“Divorced? At my age? Yeah, my family can never find out about this one, that’s for sure. This was, like, way worse than a blackout Vegas wedding.”

“I think we can keep this mission to ourselves.” Sara suggests. “At least, unless you want us to tell Nate and see if he gets jealous?”

“No, no way, let’s keep this between us. Or at least the part where I nearly eloped with the fugitive.” He says, quickly. “Keep that part off of the Time Bureau paperwork for me, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it.” Sara concedes, getting up to head out. “Charlie, you’re with me. Let’s figure out what to do with ol’ Romeo now that the wedding’s off.”

Charlie offers a peace sign as a goodbye as they exit, leaving him and Mona alone in the parlour.

“Thank you again, by the way.” Behrad tells Mona, who cocks her head in question. “For stopping me. You were right about a lot of things. And I’m sorry about earlier, I never meant to imply that you should just get over losing Konane and move on.”

“I know, I didn’t mean to overreact like that either. Or to call you a coward. You were only trying to help.”

“And so were you, before that, when you suggested that I just talk to Nate instead of,” Behrad makes a vague gesture. “Y’know. Doing something stupid like this to avoid it.”

“Love makes us do stupid things.” Mona shrugs. “Like run off with a guy you just met– which is exactly what I did with Konane, too, even if that was kind of different. But there’s nothing wrong with ‘stupid’, sometimes. I think you deserved a chance to follow your heart, even if it led you astray this time.”

“Well, that’s what I’ve got you for, right? To pull me back and talk some sense into me.” 

“That’s what friends are for.” She beams. “And you know what friends are also good for? Pushing you in the right direction.”

“Towards Nate, you mean?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Hey, you said it, not me.” Mona says, raising her hands in surrender and swinging her legs back and forth. “I’m guessing you’re scared of ruining your friendship, right? But trust me, I’ve seen the way he looks at you, the way he looks when he talks about you. Love is always worth that risk, but to be honest, I don’t even think you could lose Nate if you tried .”

“Yeah, well, it sounds easy when you put it that way.” Behrad sighs. 

“I think being in love is the easiest thing in the world, once you let yourself try it.” Mona says.  “It’s scary at first, but in a way that makes you want it even more. Then it’s the best feeling there is, and I’ll feel that again one day, I’m sure of it.”

“You’re incredible, you know that?” Behrad says, and he really means it. “I think we’d all be happier if we were a little more like you.”

“Then try it.” Mona suggests. “Try being like me, and just talk to Nate and see if he feels the same. Surrender to that feeling. And no matter how that goes, you’ve still got us. You’ve gotta have faith that your heart will lead you to good things, and that your friends will be there for you. It’ll all turn out okay, you’ll see.”

“I’ll think about it.” Behrad promises her, and it puts a huge smile on her face. But that’s probably all he’ll do for now, just think. He’s not quite ready to dive in headfirst. It's a lot less of a scary notion than before, with how earnestly Mona believes it’ll be okay, but as much as he wants to match her optimism, he’s still not sure.

He thinks back to Sunjay’s question from earlier– if there were no risk, no consequences, what would he do? Nothing comes directly to mind, not the way his terrible idea from earlier did with Kamadeva’s ashes still running through his system. He can’t say without hesitation, that he’d go for it, that he’d ask Nate out, or tell him how he feels, or any of that because there is a risk, and there might be consequences, no matter how certain everyone else is. It’s not a hypothetical, it’s real, and that kind of uncertainty has always been paralyzing for him. 

But uncertainty goes both ways– if it’s not guaranteed to succeed, it’s also not guaranteed to fail , either. Maybe this is what’s always been missing, every time he’s been left behind. Maybe it’ll be different this time, if he throws caution to the wind and actually reaches for the things he wants. And Mona’s right: he’ll never know unless he tries.