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Yusuf can’t actually remember when he last saw Nicolò’s hair both loose and freshly, thoroughly washed.
Whenever it was, it wasn’t like this. It was shorter, certainly. Surely it did not bounce just so when he moved. -
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“I forgave him,” Nicolò says. “He tried to spare everyone pain, and made the wrong choice about how to do it. And when we are busy, distracted, talking about anything else, when he needs me, when we are laughing together… all is well. But there are moments, when everything else is quiet, when I remember the hurt, and I look at him…”
“When you cannot look at him,” Quỳnh says. She is not thinking of Yusuf.
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Sometime in the aftermath, Quỳnh and Nicolò have a conversation.Series
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"Maledetto pezzo di pane," he mutters.
"Cursed... bread?" Nile translates doubtfully, without looking away from their target.
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Waypoint (noun): a point or place on a route or line of travel, a stopping point, an intermediate point, or point at which course is changedSeries
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“You look like the token hot chick at the end of some macho action flick,” Nile informs him.
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Just a wee bit of silliness on the eve of the sequel -
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Yusuf should offer himself. He knows he should offer. Nicolò is a good man, nothing like the terrible beasts of Yusuf’s father’s stories, and he is in need, and Yusuf should offer. If those stories were true, Nicolò would have been on him the moment he felt a pang of hunger, if not the moment they met, and Yusuf would be dead already. He should offer. A part of him wants to offer.
After all it’s only – blood. It’s blood. Yusuf’s blood in particular.
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“Dance with me?” Joe asks, like he has so many times before, and like he has so many times before, Nicky shakes his head and says,
“Musicians must play. We never dance.”
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A not-quite-modern AU in which Joe's a dancer and Nicky's a pianist and that's that, until it isn't. -
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He counts Nicolò’s breaths in Arabic, and in Tamazight. Then he counts them in Sabir; he could not tell that story about his grandmother and the za’atar in Sabir, does not have the words for such things in the language of commerce, but he certainly has the words for quantities and prices. Then he counts Nicolò’s breaths in Greek, because that at least he can do in Greek, more or less, and it takes more concentration than the others, so he counts and counts and counts.
Yusuf does not know how to count Nicolò’s breaths in Genoese. He wonders if Nicolò counted his breaths, when he was sleeping.
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Another take on Yusuf and Nicolò, in Jerusalem back at the start of it all. -
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“A Mondrian work has been hanging upside-down in museums for seventy-five years,” Joe says, and Nicky pets gently at the back of his head.
Huh. Not personal trauma, then, Nile thinks. Well. Probably not personal trauma.
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“Will you do mine tonight?” Joe asks Nicky quietly, while Nile is helping Andy to the bathroom.
“Your ears?” Nicky asks, innocent. He forces himself to keep a straight face for a moment as Joe eyes him, unimpressed, before relenting and adding, “Of course, love.”
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Joe and Nicky are both very pretty, and enjoy some perks of immortal healing. -
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The view is lovely, Joe is lovely, Nicky is hopelessly enamoured, and a ridiculous sign is telling them they are in a romantic zone and it is obligatory to kiss.
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The wonderful thing – one of the wonderful things, there are so many of them – about Joe is that he’s an incredibly tactile person. He hands out hugs like candy and he’s always bumping Booker’s shoulder, tugging Andy in to sit on his lap when there aren’t enough seats, high-fiving Nile and kissing her cheeks. It’s just how he is with his friends; it doesn’t mean anything.
The terrible thing about Joe is that he’s an incredibly tactile person who hands out hugs like candy, and it doesn’t mean anything.
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A modern AU in which some things are not as they appear to be, and some things are exactly as they appear to be. -
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Nicky doesn’t say anything or open his eyes, just reaches a hand out over the rim of the tub for Joe to take. Joe does, kisses his slightly wrinkled fingertips and holds his hand and admires the view. Wet and content and candle-lit has always been an especially good look on Nicky, and now is no different. (Admittedly, there is not much that isn’t a good look on Nicky as far as Joe is concerned, but this is a particular favourite.)
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“Andy’s mortal,” Joe says, miserable. “But you aren’t.” It’s not quite a question, and not quite not a question.
“That’s right,” Nicky confirms, keeping his voice steady, though inwardly he feels the reminder like a punch to the gut. Recognising that all things have their time doesn’t make the prospect of Andy’s time finally nearing its end hurt any less. And it is always worse, when the shape of Joe’s fear reflects some real calamity that cannot be chased entirely away with comforting words and touches.
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Nicky never had any substantial inner turmoil over being gay, but this, this he has always hated about himself. The way even a brief interlude of intimate connection tears down all his defensive walls and leaves him raw and needy, desperate to be held, petted, cuddled close.
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A fluffy bit of AU fluff in which Nicky is self-conscious about his need for cuddling, and then he meets Joe. -
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The next time Joe wakes, Nicky is sleeping. His hand has shifted and his little finger is hooked over Joe’s thumb, now, a tiny bit of extra connection even as the lengths of their bodies are pressed together, Joe’s leg tucked between both of Nicky’s and Joe’s arm around Nicky’s chest. Just a little bit more, because they can never be close enough, not really.
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He feels like Nicky has unlocked a door inside him, and maybe he always knew that door was there but never really understood how big of a hollow place it was hiding until Nicky opened it and started filling up the void. He wants to invite Nicky in properly, show him all his dark corners and secret crevices and strange crooked halls.
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A modern AU in which Joe has consistently failed to meet Andy's friend Nicky, until one day Joe needs a new flat and Nicky needs a new flatmate. -
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Yusuf found he could not stop thinking about it. The weight of Nicolò’s cock in his hand, different somehow when he was holding it like that than any of the other ways he usually held it. The way Nicolò squirmed uncomfortably before, and then relaxed after. The way he groaned quietly at the release. The strange intimacy of participating in this thing that Nicolò did every day, more than once, yet Yusuf normally had no part in.
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This can be read as a (weirder, filthier) sequel to Querce e Meloni but stands alone too. -
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Now, he understands that creativity and novelty have their own value of course but there is nothing quite like facing all the changes of a lifetime – many lifetimes – with his heart ever-steady at his side, and knowing that their love will endure anything, and still speaking it every day, every way new and old, because it is inconceivable to squander any opportunity to give Nicolò that same bone-deep joy he feels each time Nicolò says it to him.
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Yusuf is working on a painting. Nicolò is modelling. They get a little distracted. -
Ma se ti svegli e hai ancora paura ridammi la mano by Srin
Fandoms: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
19 Mar 2021
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"I always thought that would be nice. The fantasies of children, hmm?”
He says it as though the idea of him ever going to Malta is as far-fetched and ridiculous as other kids’ plans to grow up and become dinosaurs or superheroes, and the thought makes Joe feel unaccountably sad.
“Maybe when you get the ransom money,” Joe says. His brow wrinkles, like he’s not sure if Joe means the comment as a sincere ‘maybe one day’ or a sarcastic call-back to what he said yesterday about how no one but the bosses was going to see any of that money, and Joe’s honestly not sure himself, caught uncomfortably between the instinct to like this man and the more logical inclination to remain wary if not outright hostile towards all of his captors.
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A not-quite-modern AU in which Nicky isn't a crusader but is mixed up with a different set of people who do very bad things for not very good reasons, and Joe isn't defending Jerusalem but does end up in a different sort of trouble far from home, and a lot is different but some things never change. -
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Because Nicky is a disgusting morning person, and a masochist trying to learn Gaelic, and he’s also Joe’s best friend who Joe is maybe, possibly, slightly secretly hopelessly in love with. And Joe has just invited him to share his bed for probably at least a week.
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Or, some deeply self-indulgent AU fluff wherein they're language nerds living in Edinburgh, set in that funny liminal time between Christmas and New Year.