Chapter Text
“You need to get laid. Bad.”
Joe paused with his paintbrush half an inch from the canvas, held steady in front of him. “Hello to you too, Boss. My day's going well, thanks for asking.”
Andy scoffed, walking around to stand just behind his canvas, pointedly in his line of sight. “I’m serious, Joe. You’ve been moping around like a kicked puppy for days after Angel paid you one lousy compliment. It’s getting distracting.”
Ah yes. Joe was getting a little doey-eyed even thinking about it. Angel had looked at him with those impossible undefinable eyes and said, in his thick almost-Queens accent, "I admire your attention to detail, Flare."
Admire , he had said. He admired Joe.
It was ironic, he thought, that Andy chose to bring this up while Joe was working on this particular painting. He’d spent most of the morning mixing his colours, trying to get the exact right shade. In the end, he gave up and resolved to use a series of interlocking greens and blues and greys and yellows. Angel’s eyes, he’d determined, were unfairly complicated.
“I’d like to think it’s less ‘kicked puppy’ and more besotted romantic,” Joe winked, placing his paintbrush in his favourite mug, labelled Paint Water: Do Not Drink in aggressive red letters. The matching mug sitting right next to it said Not Paint Water: Safe To Chug in soft green. Nile had gifted them to him for his birthday a few years ago, joking about how she had seen enough 2D artists in her classes accidentally gulp down a nauseating amount of dirty paint water to know that it was a real problem. Lucky for her, she said, she worked with clay. She couldn’t drink her cast-offs even if she wanted to.
It wasn’t necessarily true - Joe had seen her accidentally go to wet her hands in a bowl of soup he or Booker or Copley had left for her when she got too invested in her classwork to eat properly - but he had kept his mouth shut and appreciated the gift accordingly.
“This isn’t a debate,” Andy continued, leveling him with that one look that made him almost regret telling her, once, that she was one of his best friends, “Now Quynh sent me pictures of that friend of hers from work, Nick or something, and she said you’d be a great match. At least look at them so I can tell her I tried, okay?”
Joe absently scratched at his chin through his beard. It was a nervous habit, he’d been told. “Quynh is behind this?”
Andy’s look shifted into one Joe knew intimately. It was her way of calling him a dumbass without ever saying a word. It was quite effective. “You think I give a shit about anyone’s love life? Look at the pictures.”
She shoved a phone - Quynh’s, which meant the woman herself was probably downstairs, listening raptly to their conversation as it floated down from the loft - into his hands, despite the paint.
Joe opened his mouth to protest, but figured it was Andy’s problem to figure out if she got paint all over Quynh’s phone, not his.
The pictures pulled up were...okay not so bad. Not exactly what he figured Quynh would choose for him - he would have guessed someone more artsy, someone who looked like they spent all their free time at poetry readings - but not bad. The man had a certain classic look to him, with more nose than face and a sharp jaw, and was unerringly dressed like an overworked librarian in every photo. “Flannel and khakis,” he annotated as he swiped through, “Flannel and jeans. Oh, not flannel this time! But still, button down and khakis.” He looked up at Andy. “Are we sure this man is gay? He gives off very...youth group leader vibes.”
Andy didn’t answer, just looked to the railing overlooking the rest of the Headquarters.
“He’s very gay I promise!” Quynh shouted up, confirming Joe’s suspicions about her listening in, “And he already agreed to a date tonight!”
Joe sighed, setting Quynh’s phone down on a relatively paint-free spot. “I don’t know, I don’t think it would be fair to him, this Nick or whoever.”
“It’s Nico, and he has a very nice ass and an Italian accent!” Quynh shouted.
Joe shared a look with Andy. “I don’t know, Andy. I’m a little hung up, if you couldn’t tell.”
Andy rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to marry him, just fuck him. Maybe that’ll stop you from spending all your time painting the eyes of someone whose name you don’t even know.”
In typical Andy fashion, she stomped off before he could say another word.
Joe picked up Quynh’s phone again, glancing at the photos. He wasn’t bad looking, necessarily, just a little plain. Something about him seemed familiar, though. Something about the slant of his eyebrows, maybe, or the way his hands were curled around a leaf of papers.
“Hm,” He hummed, swiping back to the first picture, of Nico looking straight at the camera, eyes partially obscured by the glare in his glasses. There was something tugging at him, something he couldn’t place. “Where are we meeting?”
Quynh squealed loud enough to hurt Joe’s ears, even from a floor away. “Second Best, on 71st.”
Joe sighed again. That bar was, relatively speaking, a shithole. At least they had good pretzel bites. “Okay, okay, fine. I’ll be there.”
--
He’d dressed up, more than the bar necessitated, in his favourite short sleeve button up and a pair of tight khakis that showed off his ass. It might make it easier, he’d thought, if he showed up in an outfit that could be considered a dressier version of Nico’s regular librarian look. It might make the obvious difference in fashion sense a little less...stark. That, and his ass really did look good in these khakis.
He showed up to the bar a few minutes late, not wanting to be stuck with this boring looking man for however long it took Andy and Quynh to show, and was just in luck. He saw the both of them walk into the bar as he was making the block - having decided to walk instead of fly to lessen the chance of him showing up smelling like ash, a probability that was never actually zero with him - and followed in just after.
The man had chosen a booth - good choice, people who hate booths were automatically terrible, in Joe’s expert opinion - but was facing away from the doorway so Joe couldn’t see much of him.
Luckily or not, Quynh had that problem covered.
“Joe!” She shouted, locking eyes with him, “Over here!”
The man turned around, resting a very toned arm on the back of the booth. He was wearing a blue t-shirt and presumably either khakis or jeans, given his track record, and a pair of clunky glasses sitting on his face that didn’t suit him at all.
Nico was, to his credit, much more attractive in person. Wide shoulders, huge hands, and a jawline that could cut glass...with some attention to his looks and a better haircut he might even be considered beautiful, in an almost renaissance type of way. And his eyes alone were so bright, even when hidden behind his glasses. Blue and green mixing together to make some impossible shade, the sight of which tugged at something behind Joe’s heart.
It was probably just him projecting. He’d spent all day mixing greens and blues and yellows together, he was bound to start seeing those colors everywhere he looked.
Regardless, Nico was here and looking so awed that Joe thought he might choke, and something in Quynh’s look made Joe think that this was playing out so much better than she’d planned.
Nico turned back hurriedly to Quynh as Joe walked up, so Joe looked to Andy instead. She seemed just as exasperated by Quynh’s antics as Joe felt.
Andy shrugged, leaning subtly into Quynh’s side, as if to say "I'm just here to make her happy."
Quynh started chuckling softly when Joe reached the table - not at something Nico said, he didn’t think, since the man seemed to be a bit zoned out - but just smiled when Joe shot her a questioning look.
Nico seemed to have come back to himself, because the next second he was standing in front of Joe, hand shoved between them for a shake, not meeting Joe’s eyes.
Joe didn’t know if this guy was a fan or just painfully shy, but there was no way he was spending all night tiptoeing around the slightest touch. He smacked Nico’s hand out of the way, pulling him in for a tight hug. The guy melted almost immediately, hugging back with less enthusiasm than Joe was bringing to the table, but enough for Joe to be sure he wasn’t uncomfortable. He rocked them side to side just slightly - in his experience, it did wonders to calm people down - before letting go.
“Sorry, Nico,” He explained with a shrug and a grin, “but I’m much more of a hugger.”
Nico still didn’t meet Joe’s eyes, but he did smile just a touch, just in the corner of his mouth. “It’s nice to meet you, Joe.”
Well, at least he didn’t call him Solar Flare. There was something...familiar about his voice, though. Maybe he’d met him in passing before - Andy did say this was Quynh’s friend from work, so it wasn’t out of the question - but he didn’t think that was it.
“Your accent,” He didn’t think that was it, but he found himself asking the question anyway, “That’s not just Italian, yeah?”
Nico still didn’t look at Joe. “Yes, well. I’m from Genova, we speak a different language over there. Zeneize.”
It was like pulling teeth, getting this guy to relax. Joe ran a hand down Nico’s arm, ducking his head a little to meet the man’s eyes, to no avail. Time to try a new strategy.
“I have to admit, I’ve never been. Maybe I will someday, if just to hear more of a voice like yours.”
Nico’s face turned beet red. He muttered a quick thanks as he slid into the booth.
Joe didn’t let himself sigh. He was trying, really, for Quynh’s sake, but this man seemed to be so shy and mundane that he was seriously starting to question Quynh’s taste in men.
He slid into the booth next to Nico, allowing himself to press into the man’s side. At least Nico seemed to be receptive to his flirting. Time to take it up a notch.
He leaned in, close to Nico’s ear. “Okay?” he asked, not only about their closeness.
Nico swallowed, smiled. “Yes.”
He sounded almost breathless. Okay, so it was a case of shyness then, being overwhelmed by the presence of an actual superhero on his blind date - almost ironic, given Nico was the only civilian at the table - but that was fine. Joe could work with that.
“So!” Andy cut in tensely. Joe deliberately didn’t point out that all of this was her doing, thank you - hers and Quynh’s. “Book and Nile are covering my shift tonight, and I know Copycat and Penance are in for Joe, so it looks like we can all indulge for once and have a good time.”
Joe took a deep breath, as subtly as he could. Copley would smack her, if he were here, for her complete lack of tact.
“I’m not sure I want to go as crazy as you do, Andy,” Joe said quickly, trying to distract from the fact that Andy nearly just gave away Nile and Booker’s identities, “But sure, I’ll take a beer or two.”
Andy asked Nico if he wanted anything, oblivious as always to her own indiscretion.
“Wine, I suppose.”
Of course this librarian-looking man drank wine when he came to the bar. At least he had the good sense of getting an order of the pretzel bites, Joe noted.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink, Nico.”
Joe looked over at Nico, who was shrugging mildly. Everything he did seemed to be just that, mild. Something about the movement, though, made Joe think it was deliberate.
He dismissed the thought quickly - the man was a scientist who probably spent all his time outside of work reading biographies. There was no reason for him to have to fake normalcy. Joe wasn’t sure he could be anything but plain, but maybe that judgement was a bit too harsh, this early on.
Nico made some comment about not having to drag Quynh home this time - something Joe himself had been in the position to do much more often post-mission before...well, before.
“Andy can drink anyone under the table,” Joe ribbed as Andy rolled her eyes, getting up to get the drinks, “so unless they sell vodka by the gallon, Quynh will be in safe hands.”
Joe didn’t hear Andy’s quiet “if only,” under the choked off sound of Nico’s laugh.
That laugh. Joe knew that laugh. He’d spent years trying to hear that laugh, memorizing every bad pun he could find, just to hear that soft low chuckle that made his heart sing and his body temp jump up a few degrees. The laugh that made him fall head over heels with the most amazing man he’d ever met. The laugh that by now had been ingrained on his very soul. Angel’s laugh.
He looked at Nico harder this time, who had a hand clapped over his mouth like he knew as well as Joe did that his laugh was out of place, and so so important. It seemed impossible, this mousy, bumbling man night-lighting as the confident, always-in-control Angel. It couldn’t be. Right?
He traced the man’s eyebrows, his hairline, the shape of his eyes. All of it was as familiar to him as his own name. This was the same man he’d been studying, flirting with, working alongside for years. His Angel.
“Sooo,” Quynh inserted, in that way that meant she knew more than you, “Nico’s got a really interesting project going on at the lab, right Nico?”
Joe turned, knocking their knees together under the table, to stare at Nico with rapt attention. He could feel his body heating up as his emotions ran wild - confusion and anticipation and such deep deep love that Joe thought he might burst with it. He was suddenly so enthralled by this man, who was hidden under so many layers of mediocrity that Joe almost missed him. Angel had always, the entire world knew, held every ounce of Joe’s attention - something that Copley lamented about constantly, having to spend his time spinning stories so Joe’s absolutely besotted looks wouldn’t spark more controversy into Angel’s identity. And here he was, the center of Joe’s entire universe, hiding in plain sight. How very Angel of him.
Joe said something without really paying attention to his own voice. Something inquisitive, surely, which prompted Nico to word-vomit a bunch of science terms at him. Joe didn’t have the heart to tell him - remind him, since Angel already knew - that Joe had foregone college to pursue his art while he trained and got ready to join the ranks of the world’s most powerful heroes.
It didn’t matter that he didn’t understand, not really. He would be content for the rest of his life if he could just exist here next to Angel. Angel, who was sitting there in a drab outfit talking about bacteria cultures, glasses slipping down his nose. The most gorgeous man on earth, inside and out.
Quynh was talking, translating Nico’s words into something that made sense, vaguely. All that translated into Joe’s mind was that he was helping people, even in his civilian life. Angel, that wonderful amazing man, spent his day job figuring out how to help people in the long term, make sure they were safe from more than just villains in shiny costumes.
“Wow, Nico,” Joe tried to make his voice less breathless than he felt, but mostly missed the mark, “That’s amazing. I always wish I could help people more, make sure they’re safe after I leave, but it sounds like that’s what you’re actually doing.”
Most civilians would consider him a hero, Joe realised. The thought made him grin, fighting back a laugh.
Nico, to Joe’s surprise, finally finally looked up, meeting Joe’s eyes. If there were any doubts, they were gone now. Those eyes were the ones he’d been staring into for years, trying to memorize every fleck of light, every errant shade within.
He wanted to tell Nico, tell Angel that he knew. He knew and he understood and he would do anything to keep Angel in his life, like this.
“Looks like you’re the real hero here, Nico,” he said, winking, willing Angel to understand.
Angel just looked at Joe in the same way he imagined he was looking back. With such bottomless love that it threatened to swallow him whole.
The ball was in Angel’s court, now. Joe laid his cards on the table - Angel, Nico, knew who Joe was inside and out, he held all the power here - and now he could just wait it out, wait for Angel to make his move and tell Joe who he was, how he felt.
Joe, who was probably the least patient person he knew if you took Andy’s hypocritical word for it, was more than willing to wait, if that’s what Angel needed.
At least now, with them both knowing what each other knew, Angel stopped shying away from Joe’s gaze.
He spent the rest of the night shamelessly memorizing details about this man. The mole on his right cheek, the long curve of his nose, the way his blush rose in patches up his cheeks - and Allah did Angel blush like this every time? What Joe wouldn’t have given to see that - the way the corner of his mouth ticked up whenever anyone complimented him. Even the tiny scars on the backs of his hands were fascinating to Joe, who had so much more of this canvas now to see, leagues beyond anything Angel had given him before.
He did start to feel a little bad about it, around the time Angel was halfway through his second glass of wine and clearly pleasantly tipsy. This was more than Angel had ever given him, and he had clearly been surprised to see Joe earlier. What if he didn’t want to be outed, yet? What if he didn’t want Joe to be here like this, committing every inch of Nico’s bare skin to memory?
One more look at Nico dispelled all of those thoughts. He looked at Joe like he was the sun, the reason for all the beauty in the world. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to melt into Joe’s side and never emerge. The feeling, to say the least, was very mutual.
Eventually Andy and Quynh made their excuses, getting ready to take off and go home, but not before dropping Joe’s real name into the empty air.
And there Nico was, looking at him with that same tilt to his head Angel got when he couldn’t quite figure someone out.
“That’s my legal name,” Joe tried to laugh it off, but came up short, “Not many people use it anymore.”
Nico smiled, eyes lighting up once more. “It’s a beautiful name. Do you mind if I use it, Yusuf?”
Allah, this man will be the death of him. Angel barely ever called him “Joe,” for some unexplained reason. To hear his name coming from Angel’s mouth - the name he’d reserved for family, both blood and chosen, as one of the few things he could tuck away from the media, keep for things that were private and meaningful - it made his heart skip enough beats that some part of him was worried it wouldn’t start back up again.
But start it did, and the more Joe looked at Nico the more he felt...at peace with it all. This man he loved, dressed comfortably and leaning back into the sticky leather of the booth in some terrible bar, calling him the name his mother gave him so reverently. It felt like, maybe, they could actually have this. They could do this.
“Yes,” he said, without thinking of the question, only wanting Angel to know that he would give him this, give him everything , “I mean no, I don’t mind. I don’t mind at all, Nico.”
Nico smiled, so softly Joe was afraid it would wash away the moment Joe’s gaze left that spot.
“Nicolò.” Joe’s heart threatened to stop once again. “If I know your true name, it’s only fair that you know mine.”
I already do , Joe wanted to say. I know you and you’ve known me for years, there’s nothing more familiar to me than the curve of your hands, the color of your eyes, the way you stand as if you’re trying to capture the sun inside your ribs to exorcise whatever demons you think you still have.
He wanted to say all this and more, but there was Andy and Quynh to consider, who were still clumsily trying to get out of the booth without Quynh spilling all over the ground.
“ Nicolò,” Joe said instead, sounding out each syllable like they were precious. Angel may have been surprised into this, but this was a confirmation. This was proof that, no matter how this started, Angel is willing to go all in. He’s giving Joe his name, his real name, of his own cognizance. Joe couldn’t write a better metaphor if he tried.
He waited for more, but nothing came. The sounds of the bar sounded around them closed in, reminding Joe where they were. If Angel wanted to reveal his identity more bluntly, he couldn’t do it here, not with all these civilians around. Sure, they were in a bar that mostly catered to secretive types - supers, sure, but also government officials, spies, black market dealers, etc. It was a neutral spot, somewhere where no one asked questions because they all had their own secrets to hide - but that didn’t mean Angel wanted to say it all here. He was nothing if not viciously protective of his identity.
“Well then, Nicolò,” Joe said conspiratorially, squeezing at Nico’s bicep, “Looks like the party is breaking up. Would you mind if I walked you home?”
Nico pauses a moment, staring so long into Joe’s eyes he’s afraid he might spontaneously combust again, like he hasn’t since he was a child.
Joe justifies it as Angel weighing which way to walk to get Joe alone, to tell him the truth. He figures he could justify anything, good or bad, if Angel was the culprit.
“I would be honored. I hope it’s not too out of your way.”
I would travel to the stars for you without question.
“I can fly, in case you forgot,” Joe laughed. If Angel wanted privacy, there was nothing more private than the open expanse of the night sky. “But if it’s really that far, maybe I could give you a demonstration.”
Nico clenched his jaw, swallowing, a gesture Joe had no idea what to make of. “Maybe next time.”
Well, far be it from him to waylay Angel’s carefully drawn up plans. “No problem. We can walk, if you’re close enough.”
“It’s not too far.”
Joe nodded. Andy and Quynh were nearly at the door - probably to give him and Nico some privacy, something he was eternally grateful for - so they got up to say goodbye on their way out without another word.
He stopped Quynh just before she left, lingering with his lips at her temple. “Thank you,” he whispered, even knowing she would probably forget it by tomorrow morning. Andy dragged her away soon after, leaving Joe and Nico alone at the doorway, looking out into the empty street.
Even this simple interaction - getting up together, brushing shoulders lightly, giving Andy and Quynh a kiss goodbye on their foreheads in turn, holding the doors open for each other - was accomplished so smoothly between them that Joe knew in his heart that this man, his Angel, was meant to be. Angel and him had always worked so flawlessly together - something Joe had falsely attributed, in the early days, to Angel’s precognition. It became clear quite quickly, however, that he didn’t have such an easy bond with any of the others, only Joe. It was only ever Joe.
“I was almost hoping you would say it was miles away,” Joe said, allowing himself to speak more clearly, more honestly, once they were outside the confines of the bar. “I’m not sure I want to let you leave so soon.”
Angel’s face bloomed red in such a tender blush. He looked almost cherubic, lit from behind by the neon blue bar sign, red cheeks burning softly. Joe reached up towards Nico’s jaw, stopping just short. Was Angel always affected like this when Joe flirted with him? Oh, how he’d been missing out on such a blessing all these years.
“You blush so beautifully.”
“I, well.” Nico stammered, looking down at his shoes. He was nervous, hands shoved deep in his pockets.
Joe took the hint - they were too close to the bar, too many witnesses - and followed suit, burying his hands in his pockets. “Well then, Nicolò. Where to?”
Nico took a deep breath, turning to walk down the sidewalk without another word.
His mind was probably occupied, which was fine. He’d probably never revealed his secret to anyone before. Joe could wait for him to find the words, certainly.
He eyed Nico, the way he hunched over in his light clothing versus the spring chill. He did, to his credit, unveil a thin flannel to throw on over his t-shirt, one which did nothing against the biting wind tunnels that flowed through the tall New York buildings.
“I would offer my jacket if I had one,” Joe joked, leaning in closer to impart some more of his natural heat. He absently ticked his temperature up a few degrees. “But I don’t have one. I don’t even think I own one, honestly. I tend to run a little hot.”
It wasn’t a pun, not really, until Nico turned it into one.
“I can see,” He said, blushing furiously once again, “I mean feel. Because of the heat.”
Oh, Angel. His wonderful, beautiful, intensely well-composed Angel so nervous and fluttery was certainly a sight to see.
They had walked far enough that the streets around them were about as empty as one could get in New York. A few people were milling about outside bars across the street from them, but no one was on their side and the only windows with lights on were a few stories up. If Angel were going to spill his secret as they walked, now was the time.
“Glad to know you can see me, since you’ve been avoiding my eyes all night. Starstruck?”
Nico froze. Joe just handed him an opening on a silver platter. Hardly , Angel would say, I’ve seen you in more embarrassing situations than I can count . Or maybe Why, because I don’t get the press you do? I like to keep it that way . Or, Joe’s personal hope, You’ll always be a star to me, Solar Flare.
“I just, uh. I don’t like eye contact.”
Maybe he was wrong. Maybe this man just looks like Angel and talks like him and has the same arresting eyes that had haunted Joe for years. Maybe he was so blinded by hope that he couldn’t see what was right in front of him. Unlikely, but he was wrong in Angel wanting to tell him, at least.
Joe...didn’t know how to feel about that. Angel held all the cards here. He knew both of their identities, held Joe’s heart in his hands. He had all the power here, and was just...holding onto it?
He didn’t want to push. If there was one thing Joe knew, it was that Angel shut up like a vice when he thought someone was stepping too close to all the chests of secrets he’d kept hidden. If Joe pushed, he might lose Angel, might lose Nico forever.
Because that was the thing, wasn’t it? Angel was the love of his life, the man he’d yearned for since they’d met. Nico, on the other hand, was kind and shy and so tender that Joe wanted nothing more than to bundle him up in his arms and never let go. Joe desperately wanted to keep a hold on both sides, on the confident flirty Angel and the soft sincere Nico. If he was going to do that, however, he needed to let Nico set the pace.
“I’m sorry, it was just a bad joke. If it makes you uncomfortable to meet people’s eyes, then I won’t push. I promise.”
Joe just hoped Angel heard what he wasn’t saying. That he wouldn’t push on the identity thing either, that Angel could keep his secrets and Joe would wait, as patiently as he could, for him to feel safe to tell Joe everything. That, until then, he was content with whatever Angel would give him.
“You can touch me, you know,” Nico answered, sounding more confident than he had all night, “I don’t like staring into people’s eyes, that doesn’t mean I’ll break if you hold my hand.”
That was an invitation if Joe had ever heard one. He let go of the tension that had built up in anticipation, taking his hands out of his pockets. “How about an arm around your shoulders?”
It was a nudge, a lifeline. He wouldn’t move too far without Nico’s permission, but he wouldn’t walk on eggshells, either.
“Perfectly acceptable.”
It wasn’t what he expected, going into this date. While he longed for Angel to just get it over with, to tell him what they both clearly knew, he knew it was up to Angel. His identity was such a closely guarded secret, Joe couldn’t blame him for having issues letting it go.
He was almost disappointed, just a little, that he was only given a glimpse, that Angel or Nico or whoever was the real version chose to keep his heart still locked up away from Joe.
Then Nico gave him that look, the one that reached right inside Joe and took hold of his heart. He couldn’t help himself from spinning Nico around, pressing in close, breathing in the space just under Nico’s jaw in a way he’d been craving since the first time Angel got a cut there, revealing the tiniest glimpse of pale skin and stubble.
“Is this okay?” he asked belatedly, letting himself get lost in the feel of Angel so close to him in all the best ways.
Nico froze, taking a deep breath, saying nothing.
Shit. Shit shit shit. Joe stepped back immediately, nodding, ready to apologize. Angel had given him so little, and Joe went ahead and plowed through all the red tape, needing more and more. It was the same thing his father always warned him about, that he had fire in his bones and that fire wanted nothing more than to consume everything around it until there was nothing left.
He looked at Nico, meeting his eyes, mouth open to say something, anything to get Angel to let him have this, still.
Then Nico takes advantage, leaning in, crushing their faces together in a way that would have, should have been terrible and uncomfortable and messy.
It wasn’t.
He brought his hands up to Nico’s jaw, cradling his face so tenderly like the precious thing he was.
It wasn’t until that moment, with Angel leaning into him on an empty street, no one but the stars above to bear witness to this moment, that whatever Angel would give him would be worth it. It’s there, deep in his bones, screaming at him from the very place the fire lives and burns inside him. This is everything he ever wanted.