Work Text:
Nil typed Fashav’s number into his cell phone when he called, rather than taking the easy road and just hitting his name. There was something soothing about it, a reminder that this relationship was a choice over and over again, and not just routine.
He was distracted, briefly, by Attah asking a question, so he missed the sound of Fashav’s voice but heard the beep to leave a message. “Hey darlin’, I am going to be late for dinner, half an hour tops. I hope you’ll forgive me.” His voice dropped as a smile curved over his mouth. “I promise I’ll make it up to you. Bye.”
It’s only a few minutes later when his phone pinged of a incoming text that he realized his mistake.
212-528-9773: Hi, so kinda awkward but you just left a message on my phone and I’m pretty sure we don’t have a date tonight. Normally I wouldn’t respond at all but I don’t want you in trouble just because you accidentally called the wrong person. :)
Nil laughed and even though his hands were clean, it was habit to hit the earpiece to record a reply. “My apologies, kind stranger. Should have been a two instead of a three. I appreciate you keeping me out of trouble, which is a feat unto itself. I hope you have a good day.”
212-528-9773: You’re welcome. I hope you have a lovely date.
Aloy went back to work after the amusing exchange with the smoke-voiced stranger, even though his words lingered in the back of her mind well beyond what was probably appropriate. The teasing lilt, the slight bit of gravel. It was all very attractive.
She sighed. This was why Kotallo said she needs to get out more.
When her phone vibrated the next morning on her walk to work, she fished it free of the pocket of her gray overcoat and blinked at the notification. Her lips curved into a smile as she hit play.
“I hope you’ll forgive me, but I feel somewhat obligated to let you know that we did have a lovely date. My boyfriend was highly amused by my mistake and said to tell you if I flirt too much to just text him and he’ll deal with me. I don’t know what he’s talking about, to be honest. I am a perfect gentlemen, unless the occasion calls for me not to be.”
Aloy laughed and quickly typed out a reply.
212-528-9773: I am glad to hear it. Also, do you always flirt with total strangers?
She’s almost to work when the response comes.
“Of course, how else do you meet people?”
Something about the anonymity of the exchange was freeing, though Aloy waited until she was settled in her office to reply.
212-528-9773: I don’t, to be honest. Meet people that is. Unless it’s for work.
Her morning was quickly overwhelmed by meetings that ran longer than they should and a tedious interview where all the reporter wanted to do is compare her to her mother. It was well into the afternoon before she was back at her desk and picked up her discarded phone, the slight vibration in her hand reminding her of the morning conversation. There were a number of other notifications, all likely more important, but she skipped them and went straight to his answer. She told herself the smile was amusement and there wasn’t an unfamiliar flutter of excitement in her chest.
“That sounds a bit lonely, darling. Work is a sadly necessary evil, but it shouldn’t be your whole life.” There was a pause, as if he was reconsidering his words. “Shav is giving me a dirty look, which means that might have been overly pushy of me, I apologize.”
212-528-9773: No, you’re not the only one who’s said that to me lately. I apologize for the delayed response, it was a busy and distracting day.
The reply was quick. “No apology needed, darling. I know the feeling.”
Aloy should have deleted the voicemail. She should have also erased the text messages and voice replies and went on with her life. But she didn’t.
Weeks passed, the city sliding into the holiday season with the same joyous cheer it always did. Lights and decorations springing up all over even as the weather fouled. The messages from the stranger continued, never pushing or asking uncomfortable questions - he hadn’t even asked her for her name. It was just easy and playful and she was surprised to realize how much she enjoyed it.
You are only flirting back because he’s safe, the voice whispered in the back of her head and she had to admit the truth of it. No risk of getting involved when he was clearly in love. And his boyfriend didn’t seem to mind, encouraged him even, based on the few times another voice - this one smoother and filled with sunshine - had said something the microphone picked up.
“Aloy, why are you still here?”
She looked away from her screen, blinking dry eyes at Kotallo, who was leaning in the doorway. “Why are you still here?”
He laughed and shook his head. “Interviews for the new security position ran long and it put me behind. Come on, I’ll walk you home on my way to the subway.” He shook his head again before she could refuse. “It’s dark, Aloy. Humor me?”
“Can I finish sending this email?”
Kotallo rolled his eyes. “Yes. Brat.”
“Bully,” she countered with a grin, typing out the last few lines and reading through the whole thing again before hitting send. “I survived perfectly well before we met you know.” She pulled her coat and scarf from the closet and grabbed her bag.
“Sometimes I wonder how. I’ve heard the stories,” Kotallo teased as they headed for the elevator. This was an old argument for them. He took his position as head of security for Miriam Technologies very seriously, including - despite her protests - her own personal safety. “What are you up to this weekend?”
“If I say work are you going to yell at me?” She asked and he sighed heavily. But the condemnation was put aside as they headed through the lobby, exchanging greetings with the guards at the front desk.
“Aloy, get outside. Go do something. Meet some people.” Kotallo automatically scanned the street around them as he held the door open for her.
She thought of the stranger she'd been texting endlessly, but mentioning it would make Kotallo fret. “You know I’m terrible with people.”
“Yes, that’s why practice is required.” It was an echo of something her stranger had said a few days ago and Aloy huffed a laugh. Kotallo shot her a curious glance.
“You’re not the only person to say that to me lately,” she replied and he hummed, a slight smile curving his scarred lips. They headed down the street in companionable silence, enjoying the decorated shop windows and the ever present noise of the city.
Kotallo said his goodbyes at the front of her building after exchanging a hug with her doorman, Gildun, and Aloy escaped upstairs shortly after. She ate a quiet meal, chatted with her sister on the phone - Beta was doing off-site testing in Greece through the holiday and then got ready for bed.
“Maybe I will try to get out tomorrow,” she said, staring at the ceiling of her bedroom. The art gallery near her apartment had a new exhibit up on Saturday, she’d noticed, she could venture down to see it and then get dinner.
Fashav smoothed his hands down the front of Nil’s slubbed silk t-shirt, enjoying the feel of the material and the muscle underneath.
“You’re going to get us both in trouble,” Nil murmured breathlessly as he pulled his mouth away. The silver threads in the shirt matched his eyes. “Attah will yell.”
“Attah will remind you both we are in a public venue,” she said from behind them. “Keep it in your pants, will you?”
Fashav grinned over his shoulder at Nil’s assistant. “You know I love you, but it is your fault for dressing him like this.” She snorted and waved her hand at the door.
“He dressed himself. People are here, go be social. Sell paintings.”
Fashav hung back as Nil headed out into the gallery, wanting to give him a moment to be in the spotlight. As much success as his starlit love had already obtained, he knew that Nil still didn’t quite believe it. Didn’t think that people were here for him .
It was true some people would use the opportunity to talk with Fashav instead, but on the whole, they were here to see the art and the artist. As it should be.
As he slipped out into the crowd, Fashav spotted the redheaded woman on the far side of the gallery. She was small, but she moved through the crowd with a calm assurance that was more than a little fascinating. People just flowed around her, giving her the same sort of space they usually did for him because of his size. The gray slacks and turtleneck she wore were expensive, as was the coat slung over her arm, but the blue scarf that broke up the monochromatic look was older, frayed a bit at the edges.
He didn’t stalk her (Nil would say that was absolutely what he was doing), but managed to work his way through the crowd, stopping to chat as people called out to him, until there was a breath of space in the corner where his favorite painting – one Nil had titled simply “The Race” – was hung.
“Thoughts?”
Brilliant green eyes turned to him, and the smile that followed made him think indecent things about a total stranger. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about art.”
Fashav hummed and leaned on his cane with a smile of his own. His leg ached and he was going to have to sit soon. The cold weather always made the old injury worse. But he would endure some discomfort for this. “One doesn’t need an art degree to enjoy it and feel something.”
“Fair.” Her smile now was hesitant and she gestured at the canvas. “I like the … motion of it? Even though it’s a static image, it feels a bit breathless, like you are in the middle of the race. It’s joyful, but also sad? No, longing, I suppose, not sadness. I’m sorry, that’s silly.” The words tumbled over the top of each other and an enchanting flush spilled along her cheekbones.
“Not at all.” He didn’t tell her that Nil had said something very similar, standing in his studio, paint covered and staring at the completed canvas like he couldn’t quite believe it existed. He swapped his cane to his left hand and extended his right. “Fashav.”
“Aloy.” Another hesitant smile and then her hand was in his. His fingers almost overlapped around the back of hers, but her grip was strong and Fashav had to force himself to let go. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. What brought you in?” More blush. He suspected it spread down past the charcoal edge of the turtleneck and wasn’t entirely surprised that he wanted to see it for himself.
“A friend said I don’t get out enough. I had seen the signs about the show on my way to work so I thought I’d stop in. I didn’t realize there would be so many people here.” No sooner had the confession left her than her green eyes snapped wide. “That sounds terrible, doesn’t it? Please tell me you’re not the artist.”
Fashav knew it would draw attention but he couldn’t stop the laughter that spilled out of him. “I am not, but don’t worry, he won’t be insulted. For some reason he’s also surprised when people show up, even though I keep telling him it’s because his art is beautiful.” He lifted his free hand and waved at Nil.
Fashav’s laughter filled the air and danced through her veins. It wasn’t unkind and Aloy laughed along, even if it was far quieter than his. Something about his voice teased at her memory but she couldn't put a finger on it and the thought flitted away when he smiled at her. Her embarrassment surged back to the forefront when she realized he knew the artist and had waved the man over.
The black-haired man in slouched dark-washed jeans and a sparkling shirt that matched his eyes wove through the crowd with a curious smile on his handsome face.
“I see you found someone to flirt with, darling?”
Aloy froze, glad that the two men only had eyes for each other as the entirely too familiar voice slammed into her.
She knew without a doubt her stranger was standing in front of her, kissing the hazel-eyed man who had, in fact, been flirting. It couldn’t be. What were the odds?
An overwhelming sense of loneliness swamped her, drowning her in a feeling of otherness. Foolish girl, you don’t belong here. She scraped together every bit of her public mask, barely getting it into place before silver eyes turned curiously to her and another very large hand was extended in her direction. “Nil Reyos.”
“Aloy. Your art is lovely.” Her heart was hammering in her chest.
“I appreciate it.” He grinned, the slight gap between his front teeth making it boyishly endearing despite the way everything else about him whispered: dangerous, be cautious.
She so desperately didn’t want to be cautious, was on the verge of blurting out her secret when Fashav shifted and the soft noise of unmistakable pain escaped into the air between them. Nil’s gaze immediately snapped away from her. “You’ve been standing too long.”
“I am fine.”
“You are not. Aloy, forgive me. Let me get this stubborn man into a chair.”
Aloy hung back as Nil hustled a protesting Fashav away. She could have followed, but the fear of intruding was too strong and the moment of courage had been lost. So instead she slipped out of the gallery into the December night. The rush of cold air hit her and a wave of misery followed. Running, always running. She didn’t know why. She managed to hold the tears in until she was back in the safety of her apartment, though looking around the impersonal space only made the inexplicable longing swell up with a fierce ache and Aloy sank down onto her couch with her head in her hands.
“Aloy…” Beta’s voice was heavy with loving frustration. “Listen, putting aside the fact that you didn’t tell me you’d met someone and have been talking for weeks –”
“Texting, and can you really call a wrong number meeting?” Aloy whispered but her sister rolled over the top of her.
“Yes you can. And you never do anything for yourself, Aloy. You’ve been…lighter? I guess? These past few weeks. Happier. It sounds like this guy is good for you. You should ask him to meet.”
“What if I’m wrong? What if he’s…not really interested? You know how terrible I am with people!” Panic wrapped itself around her throat. “He’s got a boyfriend, Beta. I know people do that but I…”
“Are thinking far too many steps ahead, sister mine, as usual. Just call him, or text him, but ask him out for coffee or something. Even if it doesn’t work out you could be friends. For someone who’s always throwing herself into things you’re being surprisingly cautious about this and apparently need a boot to the ass. I will fly back from Greece and find this guy myself.” Beta’s voice dropped into a sly tease. “Or I could just call Uncle Trav.”
“Don’t you dare. I will murder you and no one will ever find your body.” Aloy’s shoulders slumped. “Fine, you win. I’ll text him.”
“You have 24 hours to report in. I love you, sis.”
“I love you too, you absolute brat. Enjoy the rest of your trip.” Aloy hung up, the sound of Beta’s cheery and far-too-satisfied goodbye ringing in her ear. The phone in her hand suddenly seemed ominous and too heavy. The cheerful sounds of the rink around her fading into the background. She’d come down to the tree in the hopes it would cheer her up some, but now she just felt desperately alone.
“Aloy, you are head of the largest tech company in the world, please stop being a baby about a little text message,” she muttered to herself.
And an apology. She owed him one for her silence. The guilt wound through her as she tapped open the thread and saw the two audio files she’d listened but hadn’t responded to. In the second he’d clearly been concerned about her lack of response but holding it back.
A new message suddenly appeared, and she stared at her phone for a long moment before she hit the play button.
Five days. It had been five days since a reply. Nil had sent two messages shortly after his showing, but when no response came from what Fashav had teasingly dubbed “your wrong number sweetheart” he’d subsided into an somewhat anxious limbo.
He didn’t want to push. Didn’t know them well enough for all that he knew they loved pastrami on rye with mustard and often wandered into Central Park on their lunch hour. They liked people watching but often felt awkward in social situations. They had a wicked sense of humor that made him laugh and a tendency to work too much.
He’d been thinking of them more and more in the run up to the show, had nearly invited them though he’d decided against it at the last moment because he knew his attention would be wholly consumed by it and wanted their first meeting to be something he could devote all of himself to. He hadn’t even been able to properly spend some time with the pretty red-head Fashav had introduced – by the time he’d gotten the stubborn man into a chair to rest his leg, she’d vanished.
And the silence from his phone. Cold and worrisome. Every chime that wasn’t them made him irrationally annoyed and every day that passed made it harder to not call. He wished, as painful as it was that they would at least tell him to stop texting so he could stop spinning disaster scenarios in his head.
Nil stared at his phone and then rubbed both hands over his face. “You are being a fool,” he muttered and picked it up, thumbing open the text thread and tapping record. “I hope you are just busy with the holidays, darling. However, if I have done something wrong, something to earn this silence, please tell me so I can apologize. Or, at least let me know you’re okay, even if it’s only to tell me to fuck off. But, I…miss you, as strange as that may sound. I was hoping we could meet.”
He hit send before he could second guess himself, looked up at Fashav, who leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead.
“I don’t even know their name,” he whispered.
Fashav made a soft noise of comfort as he settled onto the couch next to him and wrapped both arms around his waist. “You could look the number up?”
“It seems intrusive.” He buried his face against Fashav’s throat, surprised by the hot tears that threatened. “I haven’t told them our names either, though I think I’ve used your nickname once or twice,” he said, the words muffled. “It just, didn’t seem necessary.” He dragged in a breath and let it go slowly, forced himself to say the words he didn’t want to. “What if something happened to them?”
Fashav’s hands flexed against his shirt. “I dislike that it’s a possibility, but it is. Love, do you want me to get involved?” With his connections it would take his boyfriend less than an hour to find them, Nil was sure.
“I–” Nil nearly dropped his phone in surprise when it chimed.
212-528-9773: I’m sorry to make you worry. It…it wasn’t your fault. It was mine.
An image appeared, of the tree in Rockefeller Center, lit up against the darkened sky as if the photographer was right underneath it. And then, another message, but this one was audio. A higher pitched feminine voice, smooth as silk and vaguely familiar but he couldn’t figure out why, suddenly filled the air.
“Hi…oh, this is harder than I thought, how do you do this? I am hoping you…both of you, would be willing to meet? Now, or as soon as you can get here? I know Fashav probably can’t walk a whole lot, but Goddess, this is…” the sound of a deep breath so obviously to combat nerves made him laugh softly. “Seriously, why is this so nerve wracking, how do you do it? I hope you’ll come.”
Nil turned to look at Fashav, his love was smiling and there was a curious look on his face but it vanished so fast Nil wasn't sure he'd really seen it. “What?”
“Hmmm? Nothing.” He shook his head and hummed. “Do you want to go?”
“Yes.” Nil was already pushing to his feet, dragging Fashav with him. “Do you? Your leg?”
Fashav waved him off. “We’ll get a ride. Of course I want to go, and my leg is fine. Text her back and tell her we’re on our way so she doesn’t worry.”
“You will get arrested if you keep pacing back and forth in front of the tree,” Aloy muttered to herself as she dropped onto a bench and forced herself to sit still. “He said they were coming.”
She tried to relax, but her stomach was a writhing pit of anxiety as she watched the skaters on the rink. What was she supposed to say?
Her phone buzzed in her hand and her heart kicked up another notch as she listened to Nil’s message.
“We’re here, darling. Headed for the tree.”
An image followed immediately after and she couldn’t stop the smile that bloomed on her face at the photo of Nil and Fashav that appeared. Nil was in a heavy leather jacket, Fashav’s wool coat was as black as the knit caps they both wore. Her nerves jumped and Aloy knew the burn in her chest had nothing to do with the cold air.
She looked up as she slipped her phone into her pocket, spotted Fashav first. He was taller than Nil, than a good many people in the crowd and Aloy’s breath caught when those hazel eyes locked on her. His lips curved into a smile, moving as he leaned towards Nil and said something, his eyes still on her.
She had a feeling if she bolted he would find her, no matter the disadvantage of his leg.
“Aloy,” Nil murmured the greeting, though his silver eyes skated over her almost dismissively and a hot wash of embarrassment swept over her. Was he angry? Why had they come?
A hand closed gently on her upper arm. “Sweetheart, give him a second, he hasn’t quite figured it out,” Fashav murmured with an amused smile.
“A second for what–” Nil blinked dragging his eyes from the crowd, his mouth dropped open. “You?”
“Me.” Aloy blushed. “Hi. I’m sor–” She didn’t finish the apology, Nil scooped her up and a surprised squeak escaped instead.
“Shit, I’m sorry, that was rude,” he murmured, lips brushing over her ear. A shudder ripped through her as he set her back on her feet and let her go. “Hi, darling.” Starlight silver eyes looked down at her and it was all she could do not to get lost in them.
Aloy reached for his hands before she could second guess himself. “I’m sorry for making you worry.”
“Forgiven,” he said. His fingers were warm as they curled around hers. “Aloy.” There was longing in her name, enough to send a second shudder through her and a wicked smile bloomed across his face. “Will you forgive me for being so forward again, may I kiss you?”
“Yes.” The answer spilled into the air possibly too quickly for propriety’s sake but Aloy found she was past caring.
Nil cupped her face with his large hands and claimed her mouth in a kiss that was both gentle and filled with such desire that it burned right through her. He tasted of sweet spice and it wove through her head, tangling up in her lungs and stealing her breath.
She felt a hand close around her elbow and dimly remembered they weren’t alone a second before Fashav’s voice broke the air. “As delightfully endearing as this is, a reminder you are both in public is necessary, I think.” He smiled down at her as Nil’s hands slid away, the grumbled protest from him coated in amusement. “All right then, sweetheart?”
“Yes, I’m–” Her attempted apology died at the shake of his head.
“None of that. We haven’t spoken directly except for the show, but I feel like I understand enough to know you need a very explicit welcome here.” The sudden, sharp grin and the heated look in his hazel eyes stole her breath as surely as Nil’s kiss. “Well, again, we are in public. How about dinner?”
“Harder to find something private this time of night,” Nil said.
“The Showmen is right around the corner,” Aloy said.
“They’re booked out three months,” Fashav said.
Aloy bit her lip. “I know the owners, it’s not usually done but they’d let us order takeout and my apartment is only a few blocks away. We could order a ride.”
The two men looked at each other and then nodded. "The walk should be fine," Fashav said and Nil offered his arm to her with a smile that widened when Aloy took it.
“So, the show?” Nil asked as they headed away from the lights of the Center and down the street.
“An accident.” The blush that swept over her cheekbones was enchanting. “As I told Fashav, a friend said I needed to get out more and the gallery is on my way to work. I…recognized your voice when you came over.”
Nil hummed softly as they stopped at the crosswalk. “I think I understand. Ah, no, darling, no apology needed,” he said with a shake of his head when he heard her inhale. He reached across and covered her hand with his. “I am glad you are here now, and should you need to, take whatever time is necessary.”
Her smile was impossible to resist and he leaned down, stealing a kiss even though Fashav tapped him on the shin with his cane almost immediately.
“Behave yourself.”
“When do I ever?” He grinned at the sound of Aloy’s laughter as they crossed the street. In that moment Nil knew he’d do whatever he could to make that sound happen as often as he could. He held the door for Aloy when they reached the restaurant and stole a kiss from Fashav. “How did you know?” He murmured softly.
“She called me by name,” his love replied. “And was worried about my leg.”
Understanding flooded him. While he’d definitely called Shav by his nickname, there hadn’t been any reason to talk about his injury. “You like her?”
“I do,” Fashav said with a smile. “Let her set the pace, my love. She’s unsure of herself.”
“I will.” He grinned. “I may push a bit, but I’ll pay attention. I promise.” He followed Fashav into the restaurant, the warmth of it wrapping around him.
The sandy-haired man at the front looked between Aloy and Fashav, eyes widening in a slight panic. “Aloy. Mr. Luz. Am I having a nightmare?” He asked. “I don’t have either of you on my reservations for tonight.”
Aloy laughed and held up her hands. “No, Abadund, you’re fine,” she assured him. “I was hoping we could order some takeout?” She’d said the chef would fuss about it, but for her he’d do it. Before the other man could answer though, someone called her name.
“Aloy! I didn’t see you on the reservation sheet.” This man had a wide smile as he spread his arms and swept her into a hug when she stepped into his embrace.
“Hi Morlund. We’re not, I was just thinking–”
“She wants takeout.”
Morlund blinked at her and shook his head. “Absolutely not, the private room is open.”
“Morlund. You’re busy,” Aloy protested. “We can–”
“It’s open,” he insisted. “Always for you. Come on, I’ll take you back. Gentlemen.” With a sweep of his arm he gestured toward the hallway.
They shared dinner, then he and Fashav walked her home. The cold air wasn’t the only thing that turned her cheeks pink as they both kissed her goodnight. And Nil’s murmured, “Tomorrow?” Was met with a smile.
His phone chimed after they’d returned home, Fashav’s also vibrating softly on the bedside table.
Aloy: Thank you for the lovely date.
Nil grinned, and tapped record. “Of course, darling. Sleep well.”