Chapter Text
“Buon pomeriggio, angelo mio,” Joe strolled into The Guard headquarters, the smell of fresh ash emanating from his skin. Joe never seemed to realise the scent hung on his frame no matter what he did, that the fire in his bones burned hot enough to bleed through, making everything he touched smell faintly like a bonfire.
Nicky smelled like fire near-constantly, now, as well. It was a comforting thought, in a strange way. How the scent of fire and ash and destruction could spell so much love and belonging in his mind.
“Buon giornata, tesoro.”
Joe strolled up, brushing a gentle kiss along Nicky’s cheekbone.
He was back from a patrol, which meant it was nearly time for dinner. Normally Nicky would cook, these days -- Nile said she would never have box spaghetti again, after she’d first tried his pasta. He took it as a compliment -- but Booker volunteered tonight. Something about an old memory, an anniversary of sorts. He was making poutine, a dish which Joe took great joy in pronouncing terribly wrong, much to Booker’s chagrin.
“Whatcha reading?” Joe ran a finger down the page that Nicky had open, tapping on the diagram on the bottom.
Nicky smiled despite himself. “I’m studying for classes.”
Joe raised his eyebrows, eyes wide. “Copley pulled through, then?”
“Enrolled and paid in full, yes.”
James Copley, who preferred simply Simply Copley, please, I’m an agent before anything , was wonderfully efficient and just as secretive, Nicky had learned. He was barely a blip on the radar of the general public -- some government lackey that had been hired to appease congress, essentially -- but to The Guard he was the center of it all, running their control center and dispatching them to emergencies and, most importantly to Nicky, keeping their identities under wraps, if they so choose. While Nicky kept his name hidden from Booker and Nile, still -- both were tech-savvy enough that, if they knew his name, they could dig a little too deep into his past, get a little too much information too quickly for Nicky’s comfort -- Copley knew it all. It was like Achille always said about lawyers: they have to know everything, so they can expect and anticipate everything.
Though to take advice from a man of that caliber probably wasn’t his brightest idea, Nicky couldn’t quite argue that his life wasn’t easier with confidants to both sides of his life. Though, to be fair, they didn’t exactly know the details. Nicky was the sole living being who knew his whole story, and he was quite content to keep it that way. For the rest of his life, if possible.
But Copley, being his efficient self, pulled a few strings to get Nicky enrolled in NYU for a masters degree in biomechanical engineering -- something he’d always meant to go back to school for, but never had the time or the money to achieve -- and had the money the government was set to give him for being an official member of The Guard sent straight to the university for his tuition payments. It didn’t cover everything, but with Nicky’s grades from his undergraduate degree, plus his years of experience in the field, meant the rest was settled through scholarships and loans that would be fairly simple to pay off, once he graduated.
Joe, Nicky knew, didn’t know many of those details, nor did he necessarily want to know. Joe never went to university, preferring to spend his time on making art and honing his powers. He had very little idea of the inner workings and politics of higher education, and he was content with that.
“I’m glad.” Joe kissed the top of Nicky’s head firmly from behind, hands kneading at his shoulders. “You’ve wanted this for a long time; you deserve it.”
“Grazie mille, amore mio.” Nicky leaned back into Joe’s embrace. “I’m excited, as well. It will be good for me, I think, to have something outside of work or the declining health and safety of the community to occupy my mind.”
Joe hummed, still lightly massaging Nicky’s shoulders. “Do you miss it? Working in that lab?”
It was a loaded question, though Nicky was sure Joe didn’t mean it that way. Did he miss the work, striding towards the betterment of society through the power of logic and science? Did he miss the environment, the cool clean surfaces and smell of sharp chemicals in the air? Did he miss how it had a way of occupying his mind for nearly every waking hour, brain wrestling with problems of math and science even while he slept?
The answer to all of those was yes, painfully. And yet…
“Not so much, anymore,” Nicky said, and it was nearly entirely true. Merrick’s abuse of his position to run experiments on people with extraordinary powers tainted every good memory Nicky held of the job. There is no good without evil, yes, but to try and untangle the way his research had been used for such nefarious purposes spoiled the whole of it.
Joe, bless him, felt what Nicky was trying not to say, anyway. “Well at least you’ll have something new now to fill your days. I know how you get when you’re restless.”
Those weeks after Merrick went down were rough, not only because of the growing pains of his and Joe’s new facet of their relationship and learning to trust The Guard more, but also because he had nothing to occupy his time. Nicky spent long hours repairing and modifying his uniform with the advanced materials Copley had granted him, courtesy of the US government, and the rest of his time on patrol from duck to dawn. Once he’d exhausted himself physically and mentally on that course, he’d spent most of his extra time staring at the walls, lacking any sort of hobby to spend his time. He wasn’t used to having any free time at all, having gone from spending all his hours under the thumb of Padre Antioco training and fighting and praying, to living on the streets of Europe, to getting his degree and working in Merrick’s lab in the States while also filling any extra hours with patrols of the neighborhood. Free time was a foreign concept to him, and Joe took the brunt of Nicky’s whining and pacing stoically.
He was just as happy as Nicky, he was sure, for that time to be over.
Now, he had a schedule. He always did best with a rigid schedule in place as a child, and as an adult he was no different. He was spending his mornings studying to catch up during the same times his classes would be - mornings were when the crime rate was at its lowest - then spending time in HQ, keeping an ear out for Copley on the crime dispatch. He would study, or soon do his projects and homework, while watching Joe paint, or chatting with Nile and Quynh - who got on like a house on fire, or watching football games with Booker, or simply sitting in silence with Andromache. Evenings he would cook, then take the late shift patrols with Booker or Nile, since he was banned from patrolling with Joe after they nearly missed responding to a robbery because they had become...distracted.
It was calming, relaxing even. After weeks of disarray and long blocks of time with nothing to occupy him, having his set schedule back was like he was able to breathe after so long underwater.
“Joe! Angelo! Dinner!”
Nicky cringed at the nickname. Joe, on the other hand, couldn’t hide his smile. “At least she’s not calling you Angel all the time again?”
“Angelo isn’t much better.” Nicky closed his book, checking quickly to make sure his mask and hood were securely in place. “It’s effectively the same, just with an added ‘o’.”
Joe frowned when he saw Nicky mess with his mask. “I wish you would just tell them so you can actually participate in the team meals for once.”
Nicky shook his head. “It’s fine, Yusuf. I have good reason to keep my identity hidden, as you well know. Besides, I don’t mind all that much.”
They had made their way to the stairs, and the smell of gravy and cheese and fries was nearly overwhelming in the best way.
“ I mind, mon ange,” Joe said, switching to using Nicky’s alias when they were within earshot of the rest of the group as usual, “You’re not a true part of the team until you make fun of Booker over pizza and beer.”
“Hey!” Booker protested.
“No, Joe’s right,” Andy answered, waltzing in with her customary bottle of dubious liquor clutched firmly in her fist, “Even Nile wasn’t really on board until she called you- shit, what was it again? Something to do with wars or something.”
“I remember that one!” Joe grinned. “He tapped out on the hot wings because they were too spicy so she said, and I quote, ‘of course you’re giving up, you’re French.’”
“Ah yes,” Quynh followed close behind Andy, a very large glass of red wine in her hand, “Everyone knows the official flag of the French is that of surrender.”
Booker spluttered, putting down the poutine that he was about to serve. “Why are we even talking about me? I’m not the new gossip around here.”
“What, Angelo?” Nile shook her head. “That’s weeks old, it’s not news anymore.”
“No, I meant Joe flirting with Angel when he’s with Nico.”
Nicky froze. Did Booker know? Was this his last moment of anonymity?
Luckily, Joe wasn’t one to freeze.
“My flirting with Angel is news now? I’m pretty sure that’s been happening for years, unless that was only in my dreams, right angelo mio?”
Nicky cleared his throat, clenching his jaw. “It’s not unusual, no. I wasn’t aware that anything had changed.”
When of course, everything had changed. He and Joe had had this exact conversation at the start, saying that Joe should stop flirting with Angel when he was officially dating Nico. Joe said it would be more suspicious if he stopped, since he flirted with Angel well before he knew Nico, and continued to flirt with Angel since he already knew they were the same person from the night they met. To stop, so suddenly, would have been even more suspicious. Nicky thought he had a point, at the time. He hadn’t anticipated having to argue that point from Joe’s side against his coworkers and, dare he say, new friends.
“It should change, though.” Nile grabbed the large dish from Booker, serving herself up some poutine before Booker could get his wits back together. “That’s like, emotionally cheating, Joe.”
Joe took a breath, then sighed. “It’s not- it’s different.” He pulled out his chair, sitting heavily. “Angel and I, this is just for fun. I have no intent to cheat on Nico, emotionally or otherwise. He’s the love of my life, I would never do anything to jeopardize this.”
Nile, at least, seemed satiated if the look of absolute tenderness she gave Joe meant anything. Booker was quiet, as well. Nicky sighed silently, thanking god that they had gotten out of that one unscathed.
That is, until Quynh had to open her big mouth.
“Does Nico see it that way?”
Nicky knew that the rest of them would take it as a concerned friend, that she was simply watching out for her only non-powered friend, making sure he was okay. He also knew that she knew that he would curse her out for that comment later. By the look in her eye as she took a long sip of her wine, she was looking forward to it.
Joe looked flustered, to say the least, so Nicky stepped in to save him the best way he knew how.
“Nico and I aren’t on speaking terms, exactly,” Nicky said, making sure to lay the New Yorker accent on thick, “But not because of Joe’s flirting. We just don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things.”
“They both understand, is the point,” Joe jumped back in, having gained his footing, “I’ve made sure that there are no hurt feelings, I promise.”
“Sounding kinda defensive there, Joe,” Andy dropped in her two cents.
Nicky was seriously considering wrapping his friends up with his rings if it meant they would just shut up .
“What do you mean you’re not on speaking terms, Angelo?” Nile asked, perfectly innocent. Maybe she wouldn’t be pinned to the wall with his rings. He made no promises for the others, though.
“We disagree often, and so we don’t generally talk. Nothing dramatic, we just don’t get along. I respect what he and Joe have, though, and he respects our friendship. We don’t hate each other or anything, we just tend not to get along when we’re put in the same room.”
Nicky avoided looking at Joe, at the shock and love in his eyes. If he drew attention to it, then everyone would look, and he wanted to keep them on track and away from any more ammo. Using the same excuses he had used to stay away from the men Padre Antioco told him to look out for, that he’d used to distance himself from his friends and family and the Padre’s insistence, that hurt him deep in his heart. But if it kept The Guard and Joe happy and by his side, then he would do it without thinking. There was nothing more important than Joe, and by extension The Guard. They were all that mattered, at this point.
Well, that and his privacy, which if they saw past would end their friendship, forcing Joe to take sides. Either way Joe chose in that situation, Nicky knew he wouldn’t be happy losing half of his life, and so Nicky wouldn’t be happy either.
Fuck, relationships were complicated. He hadn’t had to juggle this many people since he’d left his family, and even thinking in that direction hurt more than he wanted to show right now, when he was being accused of homewrecking.
So he boxed his feelings up, facing The Guard with a calm face.
“So,” Booker asked, finally getting himself some poutine and sitting at the table, “What the fuck does that actually mean, in non-lawyer speak?”
Andy scoffed. “It means Nico is cool with Angel being the side hoe.”
Joe opened his mouth to protest, but Nicky beat him to it.
“Yes, that’s more or less what it means.”
Quynh laughed, her high tinkling laugh of pure amusement that Nicky hadn’t heard in too long, since before she left The Guard the first time, back when they were just coworkers at a morally questionable research company. She was finally starting to gain those bits of herself back, and Nicky couldn’t be any happier.
“Yeah,” Joe cut in, “So quit making fun of my side piece.”
He turned to Nicky, sighing dramatically.
“You know I love you almost as much as Nico, right? You’re my favourite of all my side-hoes.”
Nicky snorted, taking a serving of poutine and heading towards the stairs.
“Of course, mon sol.” Angel winked, leaving The Guard to their startled laughter and Joe to his besotted looks. He would catch up with them all in a few minutes, after he ate away from prying eyes that would love a chance to see him without his mask on.
He wished, like Joe suggested, that he could stay and eat with them. He wished he could let himself go, relax around them. The only people who would be safe from his enemies if they knew both sides of him. But, unfortunately, his mole was too recognizable, and if they knew who he was they wouldn’t want him around anymore, that much he was sure of. There was even the possibility, slight as it might be, that he might no longer be safe from them .
And so he would go a floor away to eat, shouting down when he felt the need to interject in the conversation or when a question was directed towards him, close enough that he was almost a part of it. Almost.
That would have to be enough.