1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

“Thank you,” Nicolo says to Yusuf one evening as they eat beside their campfire.

Yusuf pauses with a date half-way to his mouth. “Did I do something?”

Nicolo’s mouth twists into a rueful smile. “I was given to the church at such a young age.”

Yusuf tilts his head. It’s not the first time Nicolo has demonstrated his able use of non-sequiturs. With patience, Yusuf can usually puzzle out the connections looping in Nicolo’s head; even now, he watches as Nicolo rubs the fingers of his right hand together, a tell that betrays an agitated state of mind.   “Yes?” he ventures.

“I have spoken of this before.”

“Of course.”

“But I am not sure that I . . .” Nicolo bites his bottom lip. “It is merely that there, God was a furious presence, peering into my soul, constantly examining me for all that I lacked.”

Yusuf does not respond with any of the thoughts that always crowd his mind when he thinks of Nicolo as a child, a small scrap of a Christian, convinced of his own worthlessness before a god conjured by grown men.

“Love was something distant, something angry—betterment by virtue of correction.”

Yusuf huffs his opinion of such cruelty.

“And I did not know.” Nicolo lifts a hand and lets it fall back into his lap; hitches a shoulder.

“Know what?”

“That it could be this instead. That it might be warmth. That it would be forgiveness. That I would crave it as you . . . ”

Yusuf understands in an instant, finds himself blinded by a rage that is quenched only by the wealth of his compassion. He shifts to his knees, and reaches forward to grab Nicolo’s arm. “My heart,” he says softly. “Oh, Nico.”

He isn’t sure if he folds Nicolo into his arms, or if Nicolo burrows into him, or both. The effect is the same—Nicolo held firm against him, the fine tremors of his body rolling beneath Yusuf’s hands. Yusuf kisses the top of his head once, twice, then rests there, his lips against the fall of Nicolo’s hair. Nicolo’s breathing stutters and smooths, his hands fisting the rough cloth of Yusuf’s tunic.

“It is a wonder,” Nicolo murmurs at last.

“It is,” Yusuf agrees, only too aware of all that they have survived. “And yet not.”

Nicolo pulls back, looks up at Yusuf, frowning.

“It is so extraordinarily ordinary a thing to love you,” Yusuf confesses. “I think of it only as much as my body must think to draw breath. I close my eyes when I am weary; I eat when I am hungry; I love you in this way, the whole of my unconscious heart devoted to a thing I cannot help.”

Nicolo’s expression softens. His eyes shine. “Yusuf . . .”

Yusuf shakes his head, pushes Nicolo’s hair from his eyes. “What you knew was not love.  What we have wrought is better.”

“It is,” whispers Nicolo, and he shifts to his knees to kiss Yusuf’s jaw, the tip of his nose; to hum his affection into Yusuf’s waiting mouth.

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

sometimes i think of yusuf, at the beginning. poet son of a merchant boy in borrowed armour, skull cracked open on a rock. how long until he returns home again? How does he return, estranged, to those Ithica-like Tunisian shores? Can his father still recognize his covered face?

yusuf al-kaysani, the son, the poet, the not-soldier, made and unmade each night in the looms of his mother's memory, mindbody woven and unwoven by something infinite and nameless.

sometimes i think about "di genova" vs. "al-kaysani". a land versus a bloodline. How they lose both, and then the names, too. immortal odysseus, ogygia-bound, longing to see the smoke that rises from his homeland, longing for death, kept in the soft-tender company of his murderer.

(really, you were founded on the bloody rock of holy ground. really, sometimes there is no return from war. at least not from this. not from the way he touches you.)

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

all we had vs what we have now 🥹

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

Just read a chatfic and came to the extremely late realization that we need a Buckley-Diaz family group hug. Chris, I know you’re a moody teenager now and probably won’t tolerate a group hug for long, but we need to make it happen, preferably as soon as humanly possible. It would just be unbearably sweet

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

Nicky remembers the years he spent in waiting prayer, fingers numb with cold as he folded his hands and bent his head. He remembers that he would close his eyes and seek something beyond himself, within himself—something steady, eternal, forgiving, even kind, and how, in the shadows cast by sputtering lamp light, he would wonder if ringing emptiness was all there was and ever would be.

He bows his head now not to pray but to comfort, to press his brow to Joe’s and offer whatever witness he can. They don’t speak. There is no need. Joe’s heart spills plain between them, and Nicky lifts a hand to touch his arm, to press every ounce of affection he feels for him into his skin. They sit in the dark, knee to knee, and when Joe shifts and ducks his head, when he seeks out a kiss with an unsteady breath, Nicky meets him halfway, closes his eyes to find the thing beyond himself, within himself, in their embrace.

“How will we . . .” Joe whispers against Nicky’s mouth.

“Together,” Nicky offers, and takes his hand.

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

Yapper marriage

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

Yusuf turns in time to see Nicolo pull his sword from the torso of the last attacker. The mercenary stumbles backward, a look of astonishment on his face, and crumples to the ground in an unnatural sprawl. Death is rarely graceful, Yusuf has learned; nor is grievous injury. He sees Nicolo collapse to his knees.

Yusuf hurries to Nicolo’s side, catching him just as he sways to fall. “Hush,” Yusuf says fervently, as though Nicolo had spoken. “It is done. We are safe again.”

Nicolo’s eyes are closed, his mouth open as he pants softly, and Yusuf is glad of the sound, relieved to hear it. Blood runs sluggishly from the corner of Nicolo’s mouth; blood stains his tunic where it is slashed and torn; blood and dirt are caked under his nails as he twists his fingers in Yusuf’s shirt.

“Rest,” Yusuf whispers. “You are healing.”

“It does not feel so,” Nicky mumbles, and his eyelids flutter open. He frowns, grimacing, annoyed. “Such godforsaken children," he manages. "They fight like chickens.”

Yusuf feels his eyebrows rise. “Like chickens.”

“Scrabbling in the dirt.” Nicolo winces.

“You arm your chickens in Genoa?”

Nicky lets out an unsteady breath and turns his face against Yusuf’s chest. “Do not be absurd.”

Of everything that has happened, Yusuf saw only the mercenaries coming. The mercenaries always come. But this—this man, painfully mending in the safety of his arms, trusting him with the slowly-receding agony of his body . . . Yusuf feels his eyes burn. “You are the absurd one,” he says weakly, his voice cracking.

Nicolo unclenches his hand from Yusuf’s shirt and clumsily pats him on the arm. “A volley for the ages,” he murmurs.

Laughter spills from Yusuf’s lips, and he thinks aloud. “How I love you,” he confesses.

Nicolo goes very still, then pulls back from Yusuf with great effort, peers up at him, blinking once, twice. “You do?”

Yusuf sighs and shakes his head. What is to do be done about this now? There is no longer any lie he could tell. “Yes.”

The corner of Nicolo’s mouth twitches. “This is how you tell me?”

“You are a thankless son of a goat,” Yusuf says firmly.

“But I love you,” says Nicolo, and Yusuf laughs brokenly again, Nicolo an infuriating, precious weight in his arms.

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

1. FBI: International / 4.05, The Future's Looking Bright 2024-11-19

2. Chicago P.D. / 2.08, Assignment of the Year 2014-11-19

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

cats being capable of understanding accidents and even giving you a little head bonk to let you know you're still cool makes it infinitely funnier that they don't understand when you're trying to help them

cats when you step on their tail: i'll admit that was rather ouchie, but given the lifetime of goodwill and trust between us, one must conclude this booboo is but a fluke.

cats when you try to get their claws unstuck from the couch covering: this nefarious bitch has never had a single honorable intention in their dishonest and shameful life, this must be one of their sinister plots or perhaps even an attempt on my life,

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

Bobby taught him well

[Image ID: two gifs explaining that no room is safe from breaking into

GIF 1: In Brawl in Cell Block 9-1-1, Bobby is explaining to a doctor that, "there is not a locked room anywhere that the right tools and enough time can't break open."

GIF 2: In In Another Life, Buck tells his coma alter ego, that "there is not a locked room anywhere that with the right tools and enough time you can't break into."

/end ID]

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

im

ravi walking in with their suits and buck just smiles up at ravi like "hey rav! thank u for picking up our suits, obviously i was getting this guy from the airport" (as he's fucking him over the table) and buck pulls eddie's head up a bit by his hair from where it was squished against the table and so he can make eye contact with ravi and say "ravi, good to see u" and ravi's like okay uh. wh- and buck goes "oh! there are pastries in the kitchen! enjoy :)"

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

ravi should use his evil landlord powers for good and tell all the other landlords (i assume they’re connected) that buck would be a terrible renter. like look at the guy’s credit score trust me you don’t want him. and voila. buddie roomate era going strong.

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

love the idea that Eddie gets in Buck's car and Buck is like, "oh by the way, Ravi is going to drop off my dry cleaning and drive with us, but he doesn't know you're here." And Eddie is like, wiping tears off of his beautiful face and out of his beautiful scruff and is like, "oh did you forget to tell him?" and Buck is like, "nah, I thought it would be a fun surprise for him." Eddie says, "uhh...a surprise? why?" And Buck just shrugs and says, "It's a shitty day, thought it would be fun to give him something to smile about." and Eddie is confused but rolls with it and Buck makes him sit at the table and tells him to be quiet until he unveils him and Eddie is just like, "oh he's for real deranged." but then Ravi does kind of seem a little stoked to see him, so Eddie's in his head like, "damn, maybe Ravi misses me more than I thought he would. I guess I should text him more."

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]