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This beautiful man, Nicolò thought to himself eleven months, one week, and two days since the last time they’d killed each other, was born with poetry in his heart.
The problem, however, was that it wasn’t particularly good poetry.
~~~
It was eight months, three weeks, and five days since the last time they’d killed each other when Yusuf turned to him one morning and said, “today your eyes look like the sea when it is sort of a blueish greenish color.”
Nicolò almost dropped the heel of bread he’d been gnawing on and looked over at Yusuf, his once enemy and now constant companion, in surprise. Yusuf had a strange expression on his face one could almost mistake for hope, and Nicolò opened his mouth to exploit this careless weakness with a biting remark but instead heard himself saying “you noticed.”
Yusuf smiled as his cheeks flushed before ducking his head as if to hide the rest of his emotions. Nicolò blinked a few times before bringing the stale bread back up to his mouth to work at it some more, and to stop his mouth from betraying him again, filthy traitor that it was.
It was ten months, two weeks, and one day since the last time they’d killed each other when Yusuf brought Nicolò an apple and said, “if you were half as sweet as this apple, it would be twice enough for me,” before holding up a barely ripe apple expectantly.
That didn’t even make sense, and Nicolò tried to frown and tell Yusuf and his deep brown eyes just that, but he felt his traitor face smile instead and take the proffered apple from Yusuf’s hand, his fingertips grazing Yusuf’s palm as he gently lifted the apple. Yusuf watched as Nicolò raised it to his mouth and took a bite, barely managing to suppress a shiver before turning away.
Perhaps Yusuf is in poor health, Nicolò pondered, spitting out the chewed-up bite of apple after Yusuf was far enough away that he wouldn’t notice. Turns out it wasn’t ripe after all.
It was one year, two months, three weeks, and six days since the last time they’d killed each other when Yusuf rolled over on his bedroll on the other side of their smoldering fire and said, “your hair is the color of a sandstorm that has raged for two days and mostly buried your family’s best tent.”
Nicolò’s stomach fluttered pleasantly as he said “I don’t know what color that is as I have never seen a sandstorm like that before.”
Well, that’s what he intended to say. What actually came out of his mouth was, “just so,” his voice dripping with sincerity. Yusuf smiled and rolled over onto his back again, settling in to contemplate the stars overhead. Nicolò groaned quietly and buried his hands in his face and somehow managed to fall asleep that way.
It was one year, ten months, one week, and four days after the last time they’d killed each other when Joe cut down the second-to-last brigand and turned to watch Nicolò fight. “You move like the wind moves the leaves on the trees, except for the evergreens because the wind has a hard time with those.”
Nicolò whimpered as he drove his sword through the last brigand. Iesus Christus and God in Heaven above, an actual whimper. I must be losing my mind, Nicolò thought as he used the brigand’s tunic to wipe the blood from his hands and then his sword. He’d find some sand to scour it with later, but this was good enough for now.
When he looked back up, Yusuf was staring at Nicolò with fire in his eyes that was probably left over from the battle with the brigands. Is absolutely what Nicolò decided to tell himself.
It was two years, three months, four weeks, and one day after the last time they’d killed each other when Yusuf knelt down in front of Nicolò, who was sitting on a log, struggling to pull off his blood-slick boots. Yusuf pulled a face at the sheer volume of blood and other unmentionable things that were currently covering Nicolò’s boots, which made Nicolò snort.
Yusuf looked up with a shy smile on his face as he slowly reached out his hand toward Nicolò’s calf. Nicolò smiled back at him and held his breath. Emboldened, Yusuf shuddered when his hand made contact with Nicolò’s calf, and Nicolò knew it wasn’t because of the blood.
He was still smiling when Yusuf looked back up to tell him, “your smile shines brighter than all the stars in the sky but not brighter than the sun because nothing is brighter than the sun.”
You are, Nicolò bit back, the words on the tip of his tongue, dying to make their way past his lips.
It was two years, five months, one week, and four days after the last time they’d killed each other when Yusuf pinned Nicolò against the trunk of a poplar tree and said, “your mouth —”
“My mouth aches to feel yours against mine, Yusuf, my lungs burn to breathe your breath. My tongue longs to know your taste, my fingers yearn to trace your skin. My body mourns each moment I am not in your arms. My ears strain for your every word, every sigh, every moan, every laugh. I lay awake at night and I want. I feel as though I am starved and the only thing that can sate my hunger is you, Yusuf; your mouth, your hands, your cock. I want to give you anything and everything you desire for it is also what I desire. Tell me you want me, Yusuf, my Yusuf. Please just tell me that.”
Yusuf's mouth was parted, his eyes ablaze as he brought up his beautiful, calloused hands to cup Nicolò’s face. “ Ti voglio così tanto ,” he whispered against Nicolò’s lips before finally, finally closing the distance between them.
~~~
The mission had gone perfectly, which was a relief. It was the first time Booker had joined them since his exile ended 92 years early, and none of them were quite sure if he’d fit back in with the team, but he had. Seamlessly, in fact. Nicky cooked everyone a meal once they’d gotten to the safe house, and now, their bellies full, they were all sitting around the table talking and laughing together, drawing the evening out because they didn’t want it to end.
“Thank you for that delicious meal, tesoro del mio cuore ,” Joe says, twining his fingers with Nicky’s before bringing their joined hands to his mouth so he could kiss the back of Nicky’s hand. Booker and Andy groan in unison, which makes Nile smile and Joe smirk.
“Get a room!” Booker chides, but he’s smiling, and Joe’s retort of “we’re in a room!” makes Nile think this is an oft-used, beloved argument among the group.
“Seriously, though, Nicky,” Nile smiles, turning to face the man. “Do you ever get tired of all that poetry and romance and shit?”
Nicky tears his gaze away from Joe and frowns. “Why would I?”
“900 years of it?”
“There never has been and never will be a day I tire of Joe or his words or his love for me. It is a gift given freely and in abundance, and it feeds my very soul,” Nicky tells her, though he’s looking at Joe.
“Oh, my God,” Nile whispers in response. She turns to Booker, who just looks dumbstruck.
“What the whole fuck, Nicky?” Andy asks. “Since when are you into Joe-like declarations of love?”
“Oh, well,” Nicky waves his hand like it’s nothing. “You don’t listen to Joe wax poetic for 800 years and not pick up a thing or two.”
“900 years,” Nile corrects.
“Pardon?” Nicky says.
“You’ve been together 900 years.”
“Oh! Yes, of course we have been together 900 years. But Joe was not...how to put this delicately? Hmm. Well, Joe was born with poetry in his heart, shall we say. But it was not necessarily good poetry.”
Joe gasps and pulls his hand out of Nicky’s to dramatically slap it over his heart. “Lies! I was incredibly charming and seductive from the first day we met.”
“We killed each other the first day we met. Besides, you once said my hair was the color of a sandstorm that buried a family’s best tent,” Nicky reminds him, to Booker, Andy, and Nile’s clear delight.
Joe smirks. “Never happened.”
“You once told me my smile was brighter than the stars but not the sun because nothing is brighter than the sun.”
“That doesn’t sound at all like something I would say,” Joe grins.
“You once told me my eyes were like the color of the sea when it was blueish greenish.”
Joe snaps his fingers and points at Nicky. “Okay, I do actually remember saying that one.”
Nile’s the first to crack up, but Andy and Booker aren’t far behind. “Blueish greenish, Joe?” she says in between laughs.
“He made me so nervous all the time! I couldn’t think straight!” Joe tells her around a smile.
“Couldn’t do anything straight,” Andy chimes. Joe looks at her and touches the side of his nose as the rest of the group smiles at him.
“Anyway,” Joe continues with laughter in his voice, “I may have been completely inept, but Nicky is worse because it worked on him! One word of bad poetry and he would just start stripping his clothes off, all the while thinking, ‘he’s an idiot but he sure is my idiot.’”
Booker, Andy, and Nile all hold their breaths as they look at Nicky.
“Well, I cannot dispute that,” Nicky says, holding his hands up in surrender.
Booker claps his hands with a “ha!” before throwing his head back to laugh, Nile and Andy joining in a moment later. Joe shakes his head, but he’s smiling as he reaches out to Nicky, who grabs Joe by the wrist and pulls him in for a kiss.