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Juno carried his stress in his shoulders, always had. By the end of every day he was a mess of tense muscles and sore down to his bones, but it's not like he had the time to take up a yoga class or something else as dumb as that.
He learned to live with it after a while. Being tense meant he was alert, at least, and that had saved his life on more than one occasion.
Honestly, it wasn’t like anyone ever cared enough to notice that he was stressed. And it didn’t count when Rita said anything about it! She was probably just making sure that he wasn’t so stressed that he forgot about her paycheck. Juno didn’t blame her.
Today was almost no different from any other.
Almost.
Today, he was working with Peter Nureyev.
His client had gotten one of her favorite necklaces stolen, and she was convinced that her ex-girlfriend had done the stealing. So she'd hired Juno to figure out who had stolen it, and Nureyev to do to the actual re-stealing and returning of the necklace itself.
They'd gotten the necklace and the thief - but it had turned out to be the client’s mother who'd stolen it, and the ex-girlfriend was trying to steal it back to give to the client.
It had originally been a gift from said ex, and Juno and Nureyev ‘luckily’ got to be witnesses to the ex returning it. And also the loss of the prefix ‘ex’ in front of girlfriend. Juno was pretty certain there was nothing worse than being single around a couple who had just gotten back together.
Basically, it had been a hell of a long day.
Juno let himself and Nureyev into his apartment and dropped onto the couch without a second word.
“Tired?” Nureyev’s hand brushed across Juno’s head, settling on his shoulder. “You really shouldn’t sleep on the couch, you know.”
Juno just grunted something incoherent into the couch cushions.
“Darling, the couch doesn’t care what you’re saying,” Nureyev said, gently running his hand down Juno’s back. Juno tensed under the motion and turned his head until he could see Nureyev’s face.
“What are you doing?” he demanded, narrowing his eyes.
Nureyev lifted his hands immediately, holding them out like someone trying to show they weren’t holding a weapon. He wasn’t, but Juno knew far too well that Nureyev didn’t need any weapons to take someone apart.
Especially when that someone was Juno.
All he had to do was flash those teeth and stand close enough for Juno to catch the scent of that cologne, and Juno’s concentration was shot.
It was dumb and complicated and Juno was way too tired to deal with resisting his attraction to Nureyev right now.
“Are you feeling alright, love?” Nureyev asked, brow folded in what looked like genuine A-grade compassion. “I won’t touch you, but I was not joking when I said that the couch was a terrible place to sleep.”
“Don’t call me that, Nureyev,” Juno growled. “I’m not in the mood.” He turned his face back into the couch, ignoring the rough fabric and frankly terrible smell in favor of making his point to the thief sitting next to him. Juno could ignore anything for as long as it took for Nureyev to stop with the dumb compliments and pet names and touching.
Which was apparently no time at all, as once Juno turned his face away he felt the couch shift beneath him. Nureyev stood, and Juno could just barely see the other man’s legs in his peripheral vision. Said legs quickly disappeared as Nureyev walked away.
“Juno, do you have anything in your kitchen that isn't instant or alcohol?”
“The fifth Hyperion bylaw says I don't have to answer that.”
He hadn't had the chance to go shopping lately. The case with the Martian artifacts had shoved him into the PI spotlight more than ever before, which did mean that he could consistently keep the heat and lights on.
It also meant that he couldn't walk half a step without someone recognizing him and trying to get his “insider scoop” on the Martian conspiracy.
It sure made undercover or subtle work a hell of a lot more difficult.
He was also constantly busy.
So things like grocery shopping or showering, or sleeping had been some of the lesser irons in Juno’s fire for the past while.
Nureyev was humming in the kitchen, the sound interspersed with cabinets opening and closing. “You know, despite what the ads say, you really can't survive on these meal packs.”
Juno sighed, and shoved his face further into the couch.
His front door clicked open and Juno shot up, grasping for a gun he’d dropped on the other side of the room like an idiot who was about to get shot or even worse they could shoot Nureyev and-
There was no intruder. No gunshots, no fight.
Just Nureyev, standing in the doorway, holding a couple reusable grocery bags with seriously obnoxious prints Juno vaguely remembered Rita leaving here a while back.
“I apologize if I surprised you, Juno. Do you mind if I buy you some groceries?”
Juno blinked, unsure how to respond. The suit, way back on that Oasis Resort… That had been one thing. A temporary thing. For a case. “I…” He sighed. A part of him wanted to tell the thief that no, Juno did not need any of his charity, he was fine and he could totally survive on the meal packs.
God knows he had been for a long time.
But he was so, so tired. And a real meal sounded nice, especially if Juno wouldn’t have to get up off the couch to do any part of the cooking. “Yeah, okay,” he conceded. “Just don’t go crazy with it. Nothing too expensive.”
Nureyev nodded almost too solemnly, eyebrows arched and just a hint of teeth in his smile. “But of course,” he promised. “I’ll be back soon. Try to get some sleep?”
Juno hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He could have gotten started on a new case, or done some work on an old one. Tidied up the apartment. Anything, really. Then he had noticed that Nureyev had left his jacket on the back of the couch. And that said jacket smelled like Nureyev, and was comfortingly warm in the cool room.
He definitely hadn’t meant to fall asleep slumped against the back of the couch, with Nureyev’s jacket draped over him and clutching tight to one sleeve like a lifeline.
Then again, Juno had done a lot things that he’d never meant to.
He must have slept through Nureyev returning to the apartment and beginning to cook, because the next thing Juno knew was the sound of water boiling, the rich smell of chocolate and the warmth of something cooking in the oven.
It was nice. Felt like home, in a way his crappy apartment never really had.
Juno cut that thought off before he could follow it any further. There lay dangerous paths in that direction.
Attraction was one thing. Juno was attracted to plenty of people, he could accept being attracted to a thief like Nureyev with those eyes and those hands, tall and strong and - Juno was quickly losing track of his train of thought.
Anything other than attraction, though, anything more… Well. That was complicated. And Juno Steel didn’t do complicated.
“Are you awake?”
Juno cracked an eye open, and immediately retracted any and all thoughts on the difficulties of things getting complicated because Nureyev was standing just behind the couch, holding a bowl of some sort of delicious-smelling soup in one hand and a mug that was, Juno prayed, the source of the smell of chocolate.
“If you don’t hand over the food right now, I will shoot you,” he mumbled, but something about the sleep thickening his voice (or maybe it was the way he was still holding fast to Nureyev’s jacket and looking at the other man with something embarrassingly soppy, hopefully not visible on his face), rendered the threat ineffective.
Nureyev just smiled at him, his expression soft and open. “No need for threats, detective.” He walked around the couch and sat down an irritatingly appropriate distance from Juno and set the mug and bowl on the table in front of them. “Have some. I promise I didn’t poison it.”
Juno shook his head. “I don’t get you.”
The food sat enticingly on the table in front of him, but he still turned his attention to the man sitting beside him.
“What do you mean?” Nureyev cocked his head quizzically, and the intensity of his gaze was almost too much for Juno to handle.
“What have I ever done for you?” Juno asked, sitting up and leaning almost imperceptibly closer to Nureyev. He couldn’t help it - he was still drowsy and more than a little sleep-drunk, dizzy on that thin line between awake and not. At least, that made a convenient excuse for letting his focus rest on Nureyev’s lips and the way they were just barely parted. He swallowed, the image of those lips on his flashing through his mind, and tore his eyes back up to meet Nureyev’s. “And don’t say any time I’ve saved your life on a case. Those don’t count. You made me dinner, Peter. That means something, right?”
Whoops. A little bit more than he meant to have said there.
Nureyev just looked at him.
“You’re making me nervous here,” Juno said, unable to take another moment of the silence. “It’s not polite to leave a lady waiting,” he joked. Or at least, tried to. He was a little too tired and strung out on adrenaline to really pull it off.
“Juno…” Nureyev trailed off and swallowed, the motion drawing Juno’s eyes to his throat. He coughed and Juno glanced back up at his face. They were so close now, close enough that Juno could almost feel Nureyev’s warm breath on his cheek and smell the mint on his breath and that cologne in the air around them both. Nureyev took in a deep breath and shifted slightly, the movement bringing the two of them even closer. “You trusted me, Juno.”
Nureyev’s voice was rough and quiet and the last straw on the overworked camel’s back that was Juno’s self control.
So he let himself fall.
Juno didn’t even bother trying to kiss Nureyev, just tipped forward until he was sprawled more across Nureyev than the couch. He tucked his head under Nureyev’s and let the other man pull his jacket tighter across Juno’s shoulders and wrap his arms around Juno, tugging the two of them flush against each other.
“I do trust you, you know that, right?” he murmured, eyes closed and more comfortable than he’d ever been in recent memory.
Nureyev hummed and Juno felt the sound more than he heard it, a rumbling almost like a purr in Nureyev’s throat and chest. “Of course, Juno.” He stroked one hand gently through Juno’s hair and Juno was so happy, so goddamn euphoric that it almost hurt, a feeling that lay sharp and bright next to his heart. Or maybe that was from when someone had tried to stab him on the case earlier today. Either way, Juno was content not to think about it too much. He just relaxed even further against Nureyev with a sigh and almost nuzzled his head into Nureyev’s neck.
“And…” Juno continued, almost too quiet to hear. “I really don’t mind the pet names.”
Nureyev pulled away and gently tipped Juno’s head back till their eyes met and Juno could see the smirk the thief was wearing all too well. “What was that, love?” he asked.
Juno didn’t flush , he was a dignified adult who had a perfectly valid reason for not answering that question and letting his head fall until it rested on Nureyev’s shoulder. “I said I hate you, go die,” he mumbled into Nureyev’s shirt.
“Darling, I feel like you may have said something different,” Nureyev said, making absolutely zero effort to hide the glee in his voice.
“That was definitely what I said.”
“Juno, light of my life -”
“Shut up.”
“Sweetheart-”
“No.”
“Pet-”
“Stop while you’re behind.”
“Lady Love-”
Juno finally gave up on words ever being able to stop Nureyev. He did enjoy the nicknames a little bit. Even so, it wasn’t like he was gonna let the guy go on all night with them. So he resorted to a less verbal method of shutting up the thief, and kissed the side of Nureyev’s neck, so gentle as to barely brush his skin.
Nureyev went dead silent.
Juno kissed him again, hard, teeth against Nureyev’s neck and tongue tasting salt on his skin.
Had he been tired a couple seconds ago? He couldn’t remember.
Nureyev moaned, low and raw and Juno couldn’t stop himself from grinning. He knew Nureyev would feel the grin in Juno’s lips, still touching his skin. “ ‘What was that, love?’ ” he teased, drawing back just far enough that he knew Nureyev would be able to feel his breath ghost across the spot Juno had just had his mouth on.
“Detective,” Nureyev breathed, “you are playing with fire.” He still had one hand on Juno’s back and the other in his hair, the two of them fitting together like puzzle pieces. (If puzzle pieces had “goddamn sharp elbows and bony knees”, that is. Juno had been told by several exes that he was a nightmare to cuddle. Nureyev didn’t seem to mind.)
He laughed and grabbed Nureyev’s shirt, pulling him down till they were eye to eye. “What if I wanna get burned?”
Nureyev sucked in a breath, pupils dilating and teeth bared. “I’m going to take you apart until you can’t remember any name but mine.”
“Try it,” Juno challenged, and Nureyev growled and pulled Juno’s hair till the detective tipped his head back and Nureyev put those teeth of his to work, biting at Juno’s bottom lip and jaw and neck and Juno was going to have to wear scarves and a hell of a lot of makeup for the next month, probably.
He really didn’t give a damn.