Chapter Text
John Price was stuck in a safehouse, somewhere deep in the mountains of Azerbaijan. It’s a dingy little building, with only three rooms. A bedroom with one rickety twin bed and no other furniture. A bathroom that had a stained toilet, a sink, and a showerhead protruding from the wall. Honestly, he was surprised the place even had running water, so he couldn’t really complain. The third room was the biggest. A little living room with one threadbare couch and an armchair facing the window that is obviously missing the cushion. That’s where John sits now. Staring out that window that’s barely stuck in the frame, at a clearing just big enough for a helicopter to land. There’s nothing there of course. Just an empty patch of dirt, surrounded by trees. The captain was dropped here under orders to keep an eye on suspected terrorist movements. It is quite literally, the most boring place John has ever been in, but thankfully back up is coming today. Nikolai.
The Russian pilot was due sometime today, with technology and updates from the real world. But that wasn’t what John was anticipating. He’d been up here for three weeks, completely alone. What he wanted was companionship. And who better to get it from then a burly Russian who could crush John under his body weight? God, John missed the man. Of course, Nikolai had no idea how John felt for him. The burning love, and the need to know. The ever-present need to be sure that Nikolai was safe. Hours passed, but finally John heard the steady rattle of an approaching helicopter. He knew that sound. Just a minute later, that old silver bird was landing in the clearing, kicking up a wind nearly strong enough to knock over his little shack. And finally, the pilot hopped out. Nik’s flight suit is wrinkled from hours flying and he looks exhausted, he comes into the little living room John is in. All the while, he’s grinning like a madman.
“Captain! It has been a long flight. It is good to see you again.” Nikolai’s voice is booming as usual, voice thick and deep. He plants himself on the couch, peeling away his flight jacket to reveal those thickly muscled arms. John can’t help but stare. There’s no denying how attractive Nikolai is, after all.
Finally, John remembers to speak instead of ogle. “Ah, yeah. Been a good bit now, hasn’t it. I..” He cuts himself off. What is he supposed to say? That he missed Nikolai? That’s not enough, but somehow too much at once. The aching desire, the yearning, the need to have Nikolai at his side burned through John’s heart. Finally he settles on a useless aside. “Yeah. It’s good seeing you.”
“Yes, good. I’ve brought what you asked for, and a little bit extra. It’s still in the helicopter.” The helicopter, sitting in the clearing and packed with supplies. But none of it requires immediate attention. So they talk. The icy awkwardness that had come with being out of contact for weeks fades as easily as always. The mountain air might be brisk, but the warmth of Nikolai’s company sinks down to John’s bones.
They’ve known each other for years. Decades now. And he couldn’t imagine anything less. John hadn’t quite been a fresh faced private when he’d stumbled onto a group of Russian military men, Nikolai amongst them, but it had been well past twenty-five years. A quarter century of shared time. Now in his mid forties, John couldn’t imagine his life without Nikolai. He supposes that must be why he loves the pilot. He and Nik have been through everything together. Crashed planes, gunshot wounds, dead friends. Every pain in his life from the age of twenty-one had been shared with Nikolai. Their lives were irrevocably intertwined. And John couldn’t ask for more, though he desperately wanted to. He wanted to be everything to Nikolai, the same way Nikolai is to him. They are intertwined, but he wants, no, needs to be more. It’s not only the military, but John wants to wake up next to this man. He wants to roll over in the same bed, and lazily kiss Nikolai awake.
Captain John Price is kind of done with the military. But it’s not done with him. And so they unload the helicopter, and John valiantly pretends like he doesn’t stop to check out Nik’s biceps every time the man lifts one of those heavy resupply crates. He pretends so valiantly, in fact, that he doesn’t notice the sweeping gaze over the sway of his hips when he carries said crates inside. They pack away the replacement rations, but when John pops open the last crate, he sees what Nikolai means by ‘extra’. Ten bottles of Jewel of Russia vodka. Over two grand. And Nik steps up behind him.
“My treat, John. For us to share since you have been up here alone for so long.” And share, they do. They pop the bottle, and pour two glasses. And then two more.
“Y’know, it’s fucking boring up here. They’ve got me on terrorist watch, but I should be back… I should be with the boys. I’m a captain.” His words are slurring, and distantly he’s aware he should shut up. He’s saying things he doesn’t want to share. He doesn’t need Nikolai’s pity, and he should be glad for the break. But he’s bored. And now he’s drunk. And talking. Why can’t he stop? “But you’re here now. You’re perfect… I’m glad. I don’t wanna be stuck up here with just anyone, ya know. God, imagine being stuck here with Johnny. He’d be talking so much. Never stop. Shit, I’m rambling.”
Why can’t he stop talking? This is why he smokes. The cigars don’t get him rambling out his every inner thought like a goddamn waterfall.The cigars don’t have him humiliating himself like this. The cigars don’t have him spilling every secret like he’s twenty and high again. What if this makes Nikolai leave? What if this overwhelming tide of rushing words makes him leave? John doesn’t know if he can handle a world without Nikolai. Shit, Nikolai is talking and John hasn’t been listening. Fuck.
“-John, I think you have had enough for today. Your hangover is likely splitting. You should rest.” Now Nikolai’s broad hands are on him, forcing John up and out of that rickety chair. The pilot’s arm wraps around John’s waist as he’s half hauled into the tiny bedroom attached to the living room where they’d been. Shit, now Nikolai is going to see the twin bed that’s too small for John alone. He’d definitely leave. No one wants to share a room with a man who’s just been talking about how perfect you are.
All Nikolai does though, is plop him down in the bed, unlace and remove his boots, and tuck John in so the captain is on his side. So he doesn’t vomit in his sleep. That would be difficult to explain. But the action is so sweet, so unnecessarily tender, that it has John craving more. Needing more. This is what he wants. He almost tells Nikolai as much, but thankfully, manages to keep a lid on his humiliating thoughts. Even so, he hopes that somehow Nik could read his mind, and stay. But Nik doesn’t. All he does is ensure John won’t roll over in his sleep before stepping back to the door, staring back for a moment.
“Sleep, Captain. I will stay on watch.” His voice is soft, and sweet, thick with fondness John doesn’t catch through his sudden exhaustion. John’s heavy eyelids hide two more things from him too. The faint pink dusting Nikolai’s cheeks, and the dark desire for more praise to spill from John’s lips.