Chapter Text
Price always tried to avoid civilian airports; they were crowded, garnered attention, and an utter mess for air traffic control. This time, he didn’t have much of a choice. A mission gone awry had them stuck in Poland, and an annoyingly timed Russian drone closed the airspace, which now led to them negotiating the best way out of the damn country. They couldn’t take their plane back, but thank fuck Nikolai was in the area. Well, he was a few hours away in Prague, but Price’d be damned if he didn’t drag him into this mess. The commercial airlines were doing their last flights when Nik arrived; half the team had already passed out at a random terminal as visitors and tourists crowded any and all staff.
Nikolai was dressed warmly, a maroon red cable knit turtleneck under a warm black overcoat, while sporting black double pleated slacks and his combat boots despite it all.
Price didn’t ask what Nik was doing in Prague, but he had to guess it was something on the business side for Chimera. Or not. He didn’t know. But Price could say Nik looked daunting in every meaning of the word. He held his tongue, however, as he stood up to greet the other man with a tired acknowledgement of “Nikolai,” already lifting his arms.
Nik echoed back a gruff hum before pulling the other man into a brief hug, his body firm against the Captain’s weary form. “Stressed?” he asked knowingly as he pulled away, keeping an arm looped around Price.
“Ah, you bloody know it. Yer a goddamn lifesaver, Nik. How’re you gettin’ us out?”
“I just got some of the tickets for the last flights back to England,” Nikolai said with a shrug. Price paused as he was going to sit back down at the seats the 141 were sprawled across, jaw slack. Ghost, who was leaning over the back of the chairs, perked his head up in interest, neglecting his guard duty over the sleeping sergeants in lieu of the new info.
“You’re takin’ the piss,” Price accused as he finally sat back down, his tone of utter disbelief.
From an interior pocket in his coat, Nikolai produced a stack of slips of paper, each with a barcode, and handed them over with only a smile.
Price looked over the tickets with a mix of disbelief, shock, and immense gratitude. “Business class too…? I…” Price couldn’t help but laugh at the situation. All his barking at command to get them a ‘damn flight before I grow wings out me arse just to have youse muppets sacked off the job,’ and Nik managed it. God knows how. “Christ. Ta, Nik,” Price said with dying chuckles. Nikolai huffed with amusement as Ghost chimed in, “Thanks,” flatly, getting a nod of acknowledgement from the Russian.
“Damn miracleworker, you are. Who’d you ‘ave to bleed dry to get these?” the captain asked. “I have blackmail on the person who runs this place. Very shady man. Luckily, that means I have direct contact with him, and he owes me for not reporting him to the government,” Nikolai answered with a dismissive wave of his hand despite the smile on his face.
Price looked at Nik with a mix of awe and admiration. Fucking fixer… Nikolai punctuated the thought with another dismissive wave of his hand. Price saw the blood under his fingernails. Dark red. Not newly fresh but certainly not old enough to be oxidized yet.
Price narrowed his eyes and moved to take Nik’s hand gently. “CapTAIN—” Nikolai choked out as Price suddenly yanked the Russian’s hand to his face, examining the man’s hands closely. “This someone else’s blood or your own?” Price asked sternly, his gaze sharp, ready to reprimand if Nikolai had an injury and hadn’t told him.
“Not mine,” Nik answered as he carefully took the seat next to Price. “Negotiations had to get a little… stern, let’s say,” he answered with a roll of his shoulders, Price’s own relaxing a hint.
“Anything else I should know?” the Captain questioned as his eyes scanned Nik’s form, gaze getting stuck on Nik’s chain for a second too long before meeting his eyes again.
Nikolai hummed in thought before checking his watch and answering, “Overall, I had a good time but we should get moving to the correct gate.”
Price nodded and nudged the napping Gaz beside him, Ghost getting the message and waking Soap as well. Gaz stirred once but didn’t move, cap tilted over his eyes, arms folded and legs crossed at the ankle. Price gave him three more seconds before snatching his cap and batting his face with it. “C’mon boy, we’re g’wing off to a flight, you can get comfy on there,” he said as Gaz reclaimed his cap with a pout but got up nonetheless.
Price sighed as he checked their gear and other luggage before he heard a thud, looking up to see a disgruntled and still sleepy Scot rising from the floor with some choice words for the lieutenant utterly beaming down at him under the mask.
“Crivvens, ya sour bastard, ya don’t ‘ave any better way t—”
Nikolai simply cleared his throat to get Soap to shut his trap, the sergeant looking around at everyone ready with their gear before scowling to himself and grabbing his own.
“Пошли,” Nikolai said with a simple nod as he turned and began to walk, the rest of the 141 following the Russian through the terminal like tired ducklings.
By the time they reached their gate they had just started boarding. Thank fuck Nik said something about the time.
Nikolai distributed the tickets before they moved to get in line for boarding. The woman checking the tickets had an exchange in what Price assumed to be Polish with Nik. She seemed skeptical of something or other. Probably the fact a bunch of military types are boarding a commercial flight with luggage too big to be carry-ons. Nevertheless, Nikolai's disarming smile seemed to wear her down. That and the fact her face dropped when he mentioned a name of someone Price had to assume was important, judging by the woman’s immediate silence and newfound respect.
The soldiers shuffled onto the plane, ignoring the judgmental looks of the prissy diplomats that shared business class with them. The seats were in rows of two, Price immediately filing in next to Nik as the two sergeants began arguing over who would sit in the extra seat next to a stranger, Ghost already having given them a firm “No.”
“They did realize there were six tickets, right?” Nikolai turned to Price as the others bickered behind them.
“Nik…” Price sighed with a mix of annoyance and fondness. “Did you really get us six tickets for this reason?” he asked skeptically.
“I figured the extra seat would be for the gear,” Nikolai shrugged with a smile.
“Pish off fer once in yer life, will ya?” Price grumbled before turning around and addressing the others. “Oi, we’ve got 6 seats ya muppets, figure it out and throw the gear in the empty one.”
The sergeants paused while Ghost just shrugged, sitting down a row behind them and placing one of their duffels in the seat next to him. Gaz and Soap looked at each other before shrugging, tossing their bags next to Ghost before taking their seats behind Price and Nik.
“Bloody nuisances, can’t bring them anywhere…” Price grumbled under his breath as he buckled and secured his seatbelt, Nikolai humming in agreement as he flicked through the movie selection on the screen in front him.
“You must have some good fucking blackmail to get six business seats on one of the last flights out the country. I feel like I should be concerned,” Price muttered skeptically as he leaned on the divider between the seats. “Yer outfit’s not helping either,” he added under his breath.
“Branch manager here let some handsome arms dealer through more than a couple times in exchange for a cut of profit,” Nikolai responded quietly with a shrug. “And what is wrong with my clothes?” he scoffed.
“‘S too nice,” Price murmured as he looked Nik over again, chin in his hand.
“Really now?”
“I just don’t see why you would need to dress up for another deal. What’s so special about these new blokes that has you looking all…” Price waved a hand to Nik’s entirety with a slight frown.
Nikolai’s smile grew as he studied Price’s face. His slight scowl, leaning over the divider with no care, eyebrows pinched and gaze traveling down and back up slowly. The spark in his eyes was unmistakable now.
“You’re jealous.”
“Am not.”
“You think I look good in this—”
“Utterly sinful.”
“Sure. And you are upset I went to my deal looking like this…?” Nikolai proposed slowly.
“Roight, well when you say it like that it bloody looks like it,” Price grumbled as he turned away, the flush of his cheeks just visible under his beard.
“I’m not wrong John,” Nikolai continued as he hooked a finger on his chain, seeing the Captain’s gaze follow it like a sobriety test as he toyed with it. “You know the sergeants are eavesdropping?”
The hurried fumbling behind them told them all he needed to know. Price just hid his face in his hands with a sigh. “‘Ow long’s the flight?”
“Mmmm, two, two and a half hours I’d suspect.”
“So I have to deal with your torturous chatter the entire time?”
“Better than the sergeants.”
Price nodded in reluctant agreement and the lack of protests from behind them told him the two had buggered off and decided to mind their own business.
It wasn’t long before the pilot came in over the intercom to run through the basic safety spiel before they set off. Price knew for a fact all his men tuned it out, the information not new to them so he took the time to check in on them.
Price turned around to see Gaz already putting earbuds to watch a movie as Soap tapped at his phone. “All good?” Price spoke up. Soap looked up and gave a thumbs up while Gaz responded “Good and comfy, thank Nik for us, will ya?”
“I will,” Price said with a soft smile as Soap took his opportunity to be a piece of shite. “Oh you sure will, wontcha? Just… once we get back on base, aye Sir?” he spoke up with a mischievous grin.
“Mind out the gutter MacTavish, ‘ow’s Simon doing?” Price shut him down quickly as he nodded to the seat behind the Scot.
Soap didn’t hesitate to sit up on his knees and peer over the back of his seat like a toddler, a wide smirk spreading across his face before he turned and slunk back down to his seat. “Sleeping softly as a bairn,” Soap leaned forward to say smugly, getting an eye roll from Price.
“Make sure he wakes easy when we land,” Price advised, getting an “Aye, sir,” before he turned back to his seat only to see exactly what he’d been waiting for.
Nikolai’s aeronautics obsession. Nik had already pulled up the plane’s flight path on the monitor, the weather forecasting on his phone and was looking out the window, his eyes undoubtedly glued to the engines right in his line of sight.
“We ever get you checked for autism?” Price spoke up after a moment of observing his partner.
Nikolai looked up with a slightly dazed “Huh?” clearly not paying attention to whatever Price had said; too invested in his own internal world.
“Nothing, just admiring your peculiarities,” Price responded innocently as he slipped his hand into Nik’s, weaving their fingers together before giving the other man’s hand a small squeeze.
“You know… just because you’re not flying doesn’t mean we’re gonna crash,” Price said as he settled into his seat, closing his eyes as the plane whirred alive around them.
“I know. Commercial crashes are few and far between,” Nikolai sighed, still looking out the window as they began rolling. “I was… thinking about other things though… still doesn’t feel safe,” Nik said grimly under his breath, holding Price’s hand a bit too tight.
“What’s that mean?” Price asked gently as he sat up, the plane’s nose tipping up as well as them as they lifted off the landing strip.
“Was thinking… about that Russian drone. Why was it here? Who was it here for? Was it the Russian government or…?” Nikolai trailed off as his thoughts got darker.
“Not Konni. You don’t think we’d be told if it was Konni? We’re the main international task force on them,” Price rationalized quickly as he placed his other hand over the two of theirs, fierce blue eyes meeting ardent brown as the plane leveled out.
“You… are correct, John,” Nikolai nodded slowly with a deep breath. “Though its presence is not encouraging.”
Price nodded after a moment, reluctantly agreeing. “No, no it’s not. But it’s not for us. It’s probably from the Ukraine conflict,” he pointed out.
“Ah, old enough to see Ukraine become a country, young enough to see it lose its countryhood,” Nikolai mused as the plane started to even out.
“Stop being such a fucking pessimist,” Price scoffed as he elbowed Nik in the side. “Just shush your brain and enjoy the ride in your weird way,” he huffed before tugging the man closer to him so he could rest his head on his shoulder. “Lemme pretend like we’re rich husbands coming back from vacation together for once,” Price said with a small smirk as he settled against the other man and closed his eyes.
“If only for you, John,” Nikolai responded with a sigh, leaning towards the other man so he could rest against him.
Price observed Nikolai as he pulled the other man against him, burying his nose in the man’s luscious hair as he thought to himself.
“You ever fly a hunk of junk?” Price asked absentmindedly.
Nikolai hummed curiously with a grunt that Price understood to be a hint of confusion.
“Something that's essentially scrap metal?” The Captain tried again as he slid a hand under Nikolai’s jacket to give his bicep a small squeeze.
“My MiG 29” Nikolai responded effortlessly with a yawn, blinking it away after as he settled into Price’s touch.
“Thought you said that was your favorite.”
“Is.”
“And you tend to compare me to that suicide bomber—” Price started to object before being interrupted with a stubborn correction of. “Fighter jet.”
Price levels him with a simple, “Nik.”
“Ehhhh, maybe not scrap but needed repairs often. I like repairs,” The Russian backed off his stance.
“Mhm. Wot's your least favorite to fly again?” Price asked as his hand ran down Nikolai’s arm.
“Carriers and mass cargo. Not remotely fun. Just letting the autopilot go as you're a sitting duck for who knows how long. If you don't look commercial you get shot at more than you'd think,” Nikolai answered without hesitation.
“When’d you ever fly that shite consistently?” Price asked as he pulled away just enough so he could run his other hand in Nik’s hair soothingly.
“Early days with Russia. Was mostly a copilot. The pilots were annoy…ying too. Pretentious because they thought bigger planes were… more difficult.” Price could see Nikolai’s eyes flutter closed, his breathing evening out so something slow and content. The plane rumbled briefly with some turbulence, only serving to make Nikolai’s eyes even more droopy with the familiarity.
“Any type of pilots particularly annoying?” Price encouraged Nikolai to go on as he twirled his finger around a strand of dark hair.
“Young adrenaline junkies… sometimes. They naturally—” Nik’s interrupted by a yawn. “They naturally tend to grow out of it if they uh, live. The—” Another pause with a wince with a pout as Price’s fingers got caught on a small knot in his hair. Nik forgot to even continue the thought when the Captain continued to card his fingers through his locks, sleep beckoning him ever closer.
“The…? You were saying?” Price hums as he stops his gentle ministrations.
Evil man. Evil, evil, evil.
Nikolai frowned immediately when Price’s fingers stilled, his pouting working as the calloused fingers then worked on his scalp, gently massaging the back of his skull.
“Mhm, da. The uh others that do… do not относятся к себе серьезно… ah умирают. Я… я… мммн, черт.” Nik’s barely babbling at this point, each of his words trailing off before he surprises the other man by getting out another. Price always knows there's no return for Nik when he can no longer automatically translate to Russian.
So the nail in the coffin was Price resting his hand against Nik’s cheek and murmuring “Спи, Коля. Я посторожу,” (Sleep, Kolya. I'll keep watch) as he pressed a kiss to Nik’s temple.
Nikolai grunted weakly but couldn't hold back sleep’s enchantment of his senses, his body going lax moments later, body rumbling with a low, almost-snore that sounded more like purring than anything.
If anyone could see the way Price looked at Nik right now he'd be called whipped in an instant. He may never live his dream of being a glitzy rich husband but he couldn't care less. To have someone who will fall asleep on your shoulder, someone knowingly going to get a crick in their back from leaning over the arm of the seat just to be close, was infinitely more valuable. There was no price. Just John. And his partner.