2nd2ndalto - Tumblr blog

2nd2ndalto · 22 hours ago

Text

what if there were two (side by side in orbit)

(chapter 6 here)

Chapter 7

July 1999

There’s a crash somewhere in the distance, and Will startles awake.

Another crash. Will sits up, blinking into the mostly-dark hotel room. It sounds like someone in the hall. There’s murmured conversation and then the ding of the elevator. Very likely nothing worth waking up for. He sinks back down with a groan.

The blackout blinds are drawn tight across the window, but Will’s pretty sure that’s daylight seeping in at the edges, not just the glow of streetlights from the parking lot. His head is lightly throbbing. Not too bad though, considering the beers he had right before bed. He doesn’t actually remember going to bed, come to think of it.

The end of the night is a little blurry. Mostly, Will remembers laughing a lot. More than he has in a while. He remembers feeling light, for the first time in so long. He doesn’t think it was just the alcohol. Now, his memory offers up flashes of Nico’s fond gaze from across the room, eyes crinkled at the corners, half-propped up on the mountain of pillows on his own bed.

Nico.

There’s no sound or movement from the bed across the room. Will squints, then sits up for a better look. It doesn’t look as if Nico’s there at all. Will confirms this as he hauls himself out of bed, stumbling to the bathroom. His mouth feels gross and cottony.

Cups. Weren’t there cups in here last night? Will can’t quite bear to turn on the lights for a better look, instead sticking his head under the tap and gulping down water until he thinks he might be partially rehydrated. Clumsy, he squeezes too much toothpaste onto his toothbrush and then scrubs at his teeth until his mouth feels the way it’s supposed to.

He fumbles in his overnight case for Tylenol. Fuck. The bottle’s empty. Maybe Nico has some? Will reaches across the counter for the little bag. Damn. Nothing in there either.

Wait. Nico’s overnight bag. Will’s pretty sure he heard the rattle of pills when he brought their bags in yesterday.

Will shambles back into the bedroom. He manages to locate Nico’s bag in the mostly-dark room. He hauls it up onto Nico’s bed, fumbling through it one-handed, various items presenting themselves to his fingers. Socks. A paperback. A small, cardboard box. Yes, finally, a small plastic bottle. Will holds it up to his face, squinting. Bingo.

He shakes two pills into his palm, and, spotting a bottle of water on Nico’s nightstand, knocks them back. He flops down onto the bed. God, he’s still so tired. What time is it, anyway? And where the fuck did Nico go? But Will’s eyes fall shut and he drifts towards unconsciousness before he can consider the matter any further.

“Hey.”

That’s Nico’s voice, Will registers, as he slowly surfaces. He blinks his eyes open and Nico’s face swims into view, the familiar contrast of dark hair and pale skin. There’s a little more light in the room now, shining from the open bathroom door. Nico looks sweaty, a few damp strands of hair falling over his forehead, a light sheen to his skin. Right. He said he might hit the hotel gym in the morning. That must have been where he was when Will woke the first time.

“Hey,” Will mumbles. He closes his eyes again.

The bed jostles, Nico dropping down beside him, a shove to Will’s shoulder. “Did you get lost on the way back to your own bed?”

Will opens one eye. Nico looks amused, a quirk to his lips. Belatedly, Will realizes that yes, he is in Nico’s bed.

“Oh. Sorry.” Will rolls onto his stomach, yanking at the blanket until Nico snorts, shifting off so Will can pull it over himself. Much better. Will closes his eyes again, snuggling in. The blanket smells like Nico. Will can’t think of anything he’d rather bury his nose in.

“Is there any particular reason you’re in my bed, Solace?”

Will groans. Do they really have to talk about this right now? Will’s so comfortable, and his headache is mostly gone now. He thinks he could probably sleep for another hour at least.

There’s a long pause and Nico grumbles something that sounds like lightweight. A moment later, Will hears the bathroom door close and the shower start up.

Will’s not sure how much time has passed when he wakes again, but now the curtains are open and Nico’s on the bed next to him, digging through his bag. Will scrubs at his eyes. “Morning,” he mumbles.

Nico snorts. “You sure?”

Will rolls to his side, watching Nico with half-lidded eyes. God, he looks good. All clean-haired and freshly-shaven.

“Hey,” Nico says after a moment, “were you… looking in my bag?”

There’s something hesitant in Nico’s voice. Nervous?

“Um. Yeah.” Will pushes himself up. “I was just looking for Tylenol. I ran out and I – sorry,” he says, a little thrown by Nico’s reaction. “For going through your stuff. I didn’t really think about it.”

It’s never been an issue in the past. The boundaries between their things are becoming more and more blurred as the months go by – more than once Nico’s asked Will to grab something out of his luggage for him. On their last overnight, they ended up sharing a tube of toothpaste when Nico ran out. That’s a level of intimacy Will doesn’t even share with his sister.

“No, it’s not a big deal.” Nico turns away. “I um – I noticed a couple of pairs of socks on the bed and I just wondered –”

“Oh, sorry,” Will says again. “I was half asleep – I hadn’t even turned the lights on and I was just feeling around in there for the bottle, and then apparently I passed out in your bed –”

Nico laughs, though he still sounds a little off. “No, it’s fine. I – it’s fine.”

Will watches Nico reorganize his bag, careful about it. Things are better, three months on. Since Tooms. Better than they have been, anyway. April and May felt like a write-off to Will, like he stumbled through those weeks in a daze that he’s still emerging from. There are significant chunks of cases they worked and solved in those months that he can barely remember.

The worst part about that time, though, is that it felt as if he and Nico had suddenly lost all the ease they’d gained with each other. Everything felt stilted, clunky, like trying to feel your way around blindfolded. Things have definitely gotten easier since then, even some of those perfect, heart-settling moments when they’re completely, utterly in sync. But somehow the occasional awkward moments between them feel even more awkward. Less acceptable. Even when it’s something as small as this. Will desperately scans his mind for a neutral topic of conversation.

“How was your workout?” he settles on.

“It was good. No one else was in there, so I got to watch MTV.” Nico turns, shooting Will a grin.

“Nice. Was it arm day?” Will’s gaze drifts to Nico’s biceps, appraising. They’re heading back to DC today, so Nico’s not dressed for work. He’s wearing a band tee Will hasn’t seen before. Placebo, it says. It’s just a little big on him, maybe not shrunk in the wash yet, and that combined with the still-damp hair and the clean-shaven face makes Nico look an awful lot like this cute punk kid Will had a crush on in tenth grade. Absently, he wonders if Nico has a skateboard.

Nico laughs, a little self-conscious. “Maybe.”

“Mmm,” Will grins. He gives Nico’s arms a more lingering, pointed look, making sure Nico notices.

Nico huffs out a laugh. “Stop checking out my arms, Solace. I think that’s workplace harassment.” He looks pleased though, and Will smiles to himself, tearing his gaze away. A little light flirting usually serves to disperse any tension gathering between them, he’s found. And if a side effect of that is he’s getting better and better at flirting with Nico – well, that’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make.

“Hey, you’ve got something –” Will notices, gesturing at Nico’s face. He pushes himself up, rounding the bed. When he cups a hand on Nico’s shoulder, dark eyes go wide and color fills Nico’s cheeks.

Oops.

“Shaving cream,” Will explains quickly, brushing a thumb over Nico’s cheek to wipe it away. Will’s half-sure sparks have ignited across the path his thumb has traveled, and he feels his own face heat.

“Oh,” Nico says, hoarse. “Thanks.”

Their eyes lock and Will’s heart picks up speed. Nico opens his mouth, then closes it again. Will’s hand is still on Nico’s shoulder and he’s sure Nico’s eyes flick to his mouth.

“Do you – do you want a muffin?” Nico asks, turning away abruptly. His shoulder disappears from under Will’s hand, making Will stumble.

“A – muffin?”

“Yeah, I took a quick look at the continental breakfast on my way back from the gym,” Nico’s talking fast, already heading back for the door. He pulls on his shoes, doesn’t lace them. “I’m gonna grab muffins. And coffee. Do you want coffee?” And he’s gone, not bothering to wait for an answer.

Will blinks, standing exactly where Nico left him. He scrubs a hand over his face, then grabs a change of clothes and heads for the shower. He turns on the hot water, dropping his pajamas to the floor and stepping into the steaming spray. Will lets out a soft moan, feeling every muscle in his body relax.

He’s been feeling unsure and wrong-footed ever since April. Twitchy, sometimes. That’s probably normal. Right? Will’s working on it, as best he can. Mostly he’s just trying to carry on, because that seems to be what Nico’s doing. And if nothing else, he’s learned that following Nico’s lead has rarely steered him wrong.

In lower moments, Will’s been feeling the way he did when he started this job last September – worried that he’s too much. Too much trouble. Too soft, too needy. At those times when it feels so untethered between them, he’s sure Nico must be thinking back to when he used to do this all on his own. How much easier it must have been. How much happier he’d be if Will just… went somewhere else. Sure, they almost kissed at the hospital – but why would Nico even want that, when Will’s such a mess? When he can’t tell where he is from day to day, moods and emotions swinging wildly? It’s exhausting. Dispiriting.

Nico tried to bring the subject of the Tooms case up once, near the end of June. He’d sounded tentative, half-terrified. Will had known, even then, that they probably should talk about it, that it would probably even help to get things out in the open. But he’d felt crushed under the weight of it, completely overwhelmed. He’d made a joke, changed the subject so quickly it made his own head spin. Nico hasn’t brought it up again.

They’re still good friends. Will still looks forward to going to work, most of the time. And even when everything else feels hopelessly out of sync, their work together is still strong, a steady scaffold when everything else feels as if it’s been torn away. Maybe all they need is a little more time, Will thinks once again. There must be a path back to those golden moments.

“So, where are these muffins you spoke of?” Will asks when he finally exits the bathroom.

Nico turns from where he’s packing up the last of his things. “Oh – they were actually out.” Quick, Nico’s gaze flicks over Will’s outfit for the day – jeans that have admittedly seen better days, a t-shirt from his mom’s last tour. Nico clears his throat. “There’s that restaurant downstairs, though. If you want breakfast.”

Nico’s still looking a little hesitant, a little unsure. As if Will would ever voluntarily skip breakfast.

“I want breakfast,” Will says, trying to sound as sure as he can.

Nico’s shoulders seem to relax, and his smile is soft and familiar. “Okay,” he says. He proceeds to stuff a couple of files on the top of his overnight bag. Nico takes a tentative step closer, plucks at the sleeve of Will’s shirt. “I’d still love to see your mom play sometime,” he says.

Will’s heart lifts. “Yeah. We should definitely do that.”

The restaurant isn’t fancy, but it’s functional. The furnishings are shabby, the carpet worn. There are two women deep in conversation by the window, and a couple with a toddler sitting at a booth. Will smiles at the little boy as they pass, and gets an absolute beam in return, the kid opening and closing a syrup-sticky hand in greeting. He turns almost all the way around in his high chair, watching Will until he and Nico are seated at a table in the corner.

“Think you made a new friend,” Nico says, glancing back at the little boy who’s still hanging off his chair, watching.

Will waves back. “So cute,” he agrees, grinning.

“Do you want kids?” Nico asks.

“I dunno,” Will says, thoughtful, “that one looks pretty sticky. Plus I think his parents would notice if we took him.”

Nico snorts. They both look up as the waiter approaches, a muscular-looking young man. His left arm is bandaged and held in a sling, but he still manages to smoothly deposit the menus on the table. Both men murmur their thanks.

“My name is Paolo, and I will be serving you this morning,” the waiter says. His voice is low and melodic. Will’s only half paying attention as he rattles off the specials and promises to return with coffee, the other half of his brain trying to sort out where he’s heard that accent before.

His eyes linger on the waiter as he crosses back through the restaurant. “I wonder where he’s from,” Will says. “That accent – it sounds really familiar…” His gaze flicks back to Nico and he’s surprised to see his partner looking nettled. Will frowns. “What? You didn’t like the breakfast specials?”

Nico huffs. “No, it’s – nothing.” He looks to where the waiter disappeared. “Is it Portuguese, maybe?”

Will brightens. “Yeah, that’s it! One of my favorite profs was from Brazil. Same accent. You’re so smart,” he adds. Nico rolls his eyes.

“Your coffee, gentlemen,” the waiter says just a second later, returning. They flip their cups, Paolo coming in with a steaming pot.

“You’re pretty efficient, even with just one arm,” Will says, leaning away so Paolo can pour.

Paolo grins, pleased, and Will’s startled to register that the waiter seems to be checking him out, really blatantly. Will feels his face heat, automatic. The guy is objectively handsome, after all.

“I aim to please,” Paolo smiles, his voice catching low. Will feels himself go redder still. He’s pretty sure he hears a soft snort next to him.

“I bet he fucking aims to please,” Nico mutters, giving Paolo a dirty look as the waiter returns to the kitchen.

Will laughs. “He’s just trying to get a good tip.”

“He was flirting with you.”

Will can’t quite tell how Nico means this, but his top two guesses are mildly scandalized or honestly jealous. Maybe a bit of both.

“What are you trying to say? You don’t think I’m hot enough to be flirted with?” Will fixes Nico with a hurt look.

Nico goes rattled and pink. “No – it’s not that – I didn’t mean – of course you’re –” Finally he cuts himself off with a sharp shake of his head, turning his attention to his coffee with a grimace.

“Good point.” Will kicks him under the table.

An hour later, they cross the hotel parking lot to the fleet car. Will loads the trunk as Nico shuffles through the glove box. Nico’s still getting organized when Will drops into the passenger seat.

“Do you have the receipt from the restaurant?” Nico asks. They’re doing their best to stay in Reyna’s good books lately, and Reyna seems to be going out of her way to aid them in this endeavor, stopping by the office to check on them more often and calling to remind them of deadlines. Nico, unexpectedly, hasn’t objected to this overreach, and he’s been making a solid attempt to keep track of receipts and submit their expense claims on time.

“Yeah, hold on –” Will digs in the pocket of his jeans, then passes the crumpled receipt to Nico.

Nico unfolds it, preparing to stuff it into the envelope with the others. He pauses. “Actually, maybe you want to keep this one.” He passes the receipt back to Will. Will blinks at him, perplexed.

“Why would I –”

Nico quirks an eyebrow, nodding to the receipt.

And yes, now that Will looks more closely, it seems there’s a phone number written on the back of the receipt.

“Oh. Wow,” Will laughs. “No, I definitely won’t be needing that.” He holds out the receipt to Nico, who doesn’t accept it.

“You sure?”

“Very sure.” When Nico still doesn’t take the slip of paper, looking unconvinced, Will rolls his eyes, grabs the envelope from Nico’s hands and shoves the receipt in himself.

“He would’ve been a step up from Luke,” Nico mutters, leaning over Will to shove the envelope into the glove box.

Will blinks, feeling tears spring to his eyes. Though even in the moment, it feels like an overreaction.

Nico draws back slowly. “Shit. I’m – I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” Will shakes his head. It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. But everything about the Tooms case still feels so contentious, so raw. Will’s guilt for having any part in getting the two of them involved in the first place. The instant animosity between Luke and Nico, leading at least in part to the rift between Will and Nico and whatever way each of them might feel that it almost led to Will being murdered. No matter that no such cause-and-effect is ever that simple.

Every time any hint of the case comes up, Will despairs that they’ll ever get past it. Now, three months on, he can push it to the back of his mind most of the time, but the ache of it hasn’t eased. Each time it rises to the surface, it sits awkwardly between them, ugly and unwieldy.

Will thinks maybe that what makes it such a sore spot is the fact that Nico is so very rarely unkind, especially to Will. Will almost imagined him incapable of it, right up until their argument in April. It’s silly and childish, but it felt like such a betrayal, to have Nico speak to him that way. To see disgust, even irritation in his eyes. And though there’s so rarely been so much as a hint of it since then, any time there is, Will feels as if he might burst into tears, an eight-year-old being told off by his best friend. He doesn’t even believe Nico meant to be unkind – or, to whatever extent he did in the moment, Will thinks he understands what prompted it.

But it hurt then, and it hurts now.

“It was – I meant it to be a joke. It – it wasn’t a good one,” Nico says. The tension in the car has increased about a hundredfold in the last ten seconds, and Will hates it. He turns his face towards the passenger window, stupidly hurt, completely overreacting.

How will he possibly be able to explain falling apart over such an innocuous remark? Why does he have to be such a child? He grits his teeth, takes a deep breath. He turns to look at Nico, quick, trying his best for a reassuring smile.

Nico looks stricken, which doesn’t help.

“It’s really okay, Nico. Don’t worry about it.” Will’s voice comes out hoarse and he sees Nico’s brow crease in concern as Will reaches for the bag at his feet, a distraction.

“Do you wanna take the city route back to the 475?” Will asks, determinedly shoving everything to the back of his mind. He pulls out the map. “I can navigate if you want.”

There’s a pause. “Yeah,” Nico says, soft. “Could you?”

“Of course.”

Will pulls out his sunglasses, though it’s hazy and overcast. A little extra protection from Nico’s gaze, a little help to hide his stupid watery eyes. Every time it feels like things might be getting back to normal between them, Will has to go and fuck it up by being weird and emotional. He’s just so goddamn fragile these days.

They drive in silence for a while, nothing but the occasional turn right up here and <>take the next exit. Finally, they’re on the freeway, heading back north, and Will shoves the map into his bag, sitting back with a sigh.

“Hey, could you put some music on?” Nico asks. He still sounds a bit more conciliatory than usual, still not quite Nico. Will tries to ignore it.

“Yeah. Sure. Should we try one of the CDs Frank lent you?”

“What, all that Canadian stuff? Yeah, Frank’s got pretty decent taste. Let’s see what we’ve got.”

The Canadian stuff is pretty good, as it turns out, and they pass the next hour in mostly comfortable quiet. Things feel almost normal, like they do sometimes these days.

God, Will is just so tired. He wonders if it was almost better when he was just dull, flat. Rather than lately, ping-ponging back and forth between being flirty and then suddenly tearful.

A few times, in darker moments, Will’s asked himself if he’s really cut out for this work. He loves his job, almost all the time. But can he keep doing this work with Nico? How long will Nico even want to tolerate him if every difficult case results in Will barely functioning for months at a time? He’d barely managed to pull himself together after nearly losing Nico in St. Ambrose, and then Tooms had happened. What comes next? How many more of these cases can they work together before Nico decides Will’s not worth the effort?

Will swallows against the lump in his throat. “Hey – I’m gonna nap,” he says. Even to his own ears, he sounds exhausted, near-tears.

Nico’s gaze flicks over, quick, as if Will’s said something far more monumental.

“Yeah. Of course.”

Will tilts the seat back, tries to relax. At least it’s still one of his favorite ways to nap, with the knowledge that Nico’s right beside him, solid and safe. He stares at the clouds above the windshield, letting his gaze go unfocused.

Beside him, for a second he’s sure Nico is going to speak – he opens his mouth, takes a breath, then sighs. Nico’s hand lifts from the gearshift, twitching in Will’s direction for a moment before it drops again.

August 1999

The fry container is really fucking hot, and Nico adjusts his grip several times on the way back to the car, the probably-now-flattened burgers in a bag under his arm and two sodas in a tray balanced in a precarious grip in his other hand. Will jumps up when he sees Nico approaching, peeling himself off the hood of the car and rushing to help.

He’s not much help in the end, nearly dropping the fries when he, too, registers the scalding temperature. Will awkwardly catches the container between his chest and Nico’s, grabbing onto Nico’s bicep to steady both of them, pressing them together in an awkward dance and finally managing to extricate the burger bag, giggling all the while.

They finally settle in a sparse bit of shade at the rest stop, Will leaning back against the rough bark of a tree and Nico cross-legged facing him on the parched grass.

“Holy fuck, these are good fries,” Will moans, stuffing several into his mouth. Nico watches, amused. Will catches his eye and smiles. He swallows a little laboriously and then winks, inserting first his thumb and then his index finger between pink lips, sucking off salt and grease, never taking his eyes off Nico.

Nico maintains a pretty good cover, he thinks, rolling his eyes and looking away cooly as heat sparks across his skin.

It’s felt like they’ve been balanced on a razor’s edge this entire case, something electric buzzing between them ever since they left DC. It’s the heat, maybe. It’s been near 100 degrees every day, and the stupid AC in their stupid little fleet car is on its last legs.

Or it could just be them. Will. Will, who’s finally, blessedly, showing signs of being Will again.

He’s been different since the Tooms case. Tired and distracted. Nico has to work harder to get him to laugh. It makes his heart ache and his stomach churn with guilt.

Nico’s had to work harder to keep his own spirits up in the aftermath too, but he wonders if he’s simply more used to the pattern of recovery after a tough case, the knowledge that if he just keeps pushing through, things will eventually get easier. The thing is, he’s never been through it with someone before. He can deal with his own moods. But it’s been unexpectedly uphill-both-ways dealing with Will’s, more soul-crushing than Nico would have expected, waiting on that bright smile, that loud laughter – and then receiving only a shadow of it, a shadow of regret on Will’s face as he turns away again.

Nico had been numb in the first days after the case. He remembers thinking, at the time, that Will was somehow bouncing right back, even more resilient than Nico thought he was.

It hadn’t lasted, though. As April faded into May, Will had faded, too. May had been really hard; Nico just barely holding it together, Will sleep-walking through most of the month, shadows under his eyes, no spark there when Nico mustered the energy to try and tease him. Will had been away sick for a couple of days near the end of the month, and Nico had actually felt himself relax, alone in the office. And then immediately felt wracked with guilt.

Since then it’s been a bit better. Up and down. Will’s sometimes bright and flirty, sometimes dragging. At the beginning of June, Hazel had invited them over for Frank’s birthday. Nico had spent the evening thinking that now, maybe, things were getting back to normal. Will had been chatty, laughing. Friendly with Hazel, Frank and Leo, fond and teasing with Nico. But Hazel had pulled Nico aside near the end of the evening and asked, worried, “is Will okay?” and Nico had begun second-guessing everything.

Hazel couldn’t have known that her words would leave Nico so shaken. He’d cried in his car that evening after dropping Will off at home, tears blurring his vision and splashing onto the front of his shirt as he made his way back through the quiet streets to the freeway. Had he ruined everything permanently? How did he break everything between them so thoroughly, so efficiently, in just 24 hours? When things had been so good for all those months before?

Nico had found himself in tears again a week later, had returned to the office after Will left at lunch for a dentist appointment to find a sandwich in the middle of his desk, a post-it stuck on the wrapper featuring a drawing of two stick figures, one with wild curls, the other wearing a t-shirt reading Ramones. Their stick arms were overlapped, a quick scrawl of a heart at the bottom of the slip of paper. Nico had tucked the note into his pocket and carefully stuck it to the cupboard in his kitchen when he got home.

Nico thought back to that evening at the hospital more than once. The relief when Will woke. Guilt, in retrospect, that despite how badly Nico had fucked up, Will had comforted him. That despite having told Will just weeks earlier that he’d make sure nothing happened to him, Nico had done the exact opposite.

And then Will… they’d almost kissed. They’d been close enough for Nico to feel Will’s breath on his face, to count each freckle on Will’s nose, and Will had moved closer…

Nico’s brain doesn’t want to make sense of it now. Why would Will want to kiss him, especially then, when Nico had betrayed his trust and nearly caused his death? It doesn’t make any sense.

So. Things have been rough. The last few days, though – it feels as if Nico’s gotten his Will back. It’s given him a burst of energy and motivation that’s welcome and warming. Will had returned from a beach trip with his friend Cecil with a fading sunburn, a whole new crop of freckles and a spark in his eye that Nico had been sorely missing.

He’d listened to Will enumerate his beach adventures, an uncomfortable knot of jealousy growing a little more difficult to ignore every time Will mentioned Cecil, until Will finally mentioned Cecil’s wife and their twin boys, and Nico was pretty sure he could hear the sound of his own jaw unclenching.

And maybe things still aren’t perfect, but in the last few days, Nico has this undeniable feeling that they’re on the right track. Octavian has been sending them on some absolutely stupid cases since April – certain, Nico thinks, that they’ll fail, fuck up even worse than they did with Tooms.

Instead, though, they’ve been solving every single one. Because despite the fact that they’re both dragging, they’re both hurting – it turns out that they’re still a really fucking good team. This, if anything, has kept Nico going in the last few months. When they’re working a case, he and Will are seamless, finishing each other's sentences, acting on each other’s thoughts before the thoughts are even voiced. Even when Will looks as if he hasn’t slept in a week. Even when Nico realizes, later, that he hasn’t eaten anything in almost 24 hours. And Nico’s really fucking proud of that. It makes him feel like a fucking superhero.

This week’s case has been easy enough – mysterious attic noises that turned out to be a nest of squirrels, and a completely unrelated murder they’d solved easily and then passed off to the local PD. It had been a good morale boost. And if that wasn’t enough to raise Nico’s spirits, he’s still riding the high of watching Will, eyes blazing, tear a strip off the coroner who dared to call him Doogie Howser.

Nico almost wishes the case could have lasted longer. He’s half-afraid of watching Will’s light dim the closer they get back to DC. Regardless, he’s certainly in no rush to return to the hot box of the under-air-conditioned car.

Now, finishing off the last few bites of his burger, Will leans back, closing his eyes and turning his face up to the sunset glow filtering through the leaves above their heads. The sky is streaked with pink and blue and orange, a bright outline of dying light around fluffy clouds at the horizon.

It doesn’t feel as if the temperature has dropped at all, though, and Nico scrubs a hand over his face, shoving sweaty hair off his forehead. Will had dug in his overnight bag for swim trunks and a t-shirt, and he’s looking breezy and sun-kissed, as per usual, a tan starting where his sunburn is starting to fade. Nico, on the other hand, hadn’t managed to do better than an old band t-shirt (black) and jeans (also black). He’s feeling sticky and sweaty and disgusting, and it’s a total mystery as to how Will’s gaze goes soft and fond when he glances over.

Nico raises an eyebrow and Will looks away, pink with blush and sunburn.

The mosquitoes are just beginning their nightly search for blood, and Nico slaps a third one in as many minutes, grimacing.

“Guess we should get back on the road.” Will doesn’t sound any happier about it than Nico is.

“Guess so.”

Nico sometimes feels as if he’s got a whole new mystery to solve, just looking for any hint that things might be returning to normal between them. His gaze flicks over to Will as Will buckles in, then again once they pull out onto the highway. A third time maybe half a mile later when Will shifts in his seat. Nico can’t help it. For the last few days, he feels as if he can’t believe, all over again, that Will’s here. And that he could really be Will again.

Will finally laughs, shoving damp hair off his forehead. “Why do you keep looking at me funny? Do I have something on my face?”

Will’s eyes are sparkling with humor, a sheen of sweat over the bridge of his nose. He’s summery and solid and real. The last rays of the sunset catch on blond curls and the side of Will’s face, painting him in gold and shadow. If Nico didn’t have to keep his eyes on the road, he’d like to look longer – the breadth of Will’s shoulders under the stretch of his faded t-shirt. His stubbled jaw, his nose freckled and peeling. An untidy jumble of long legs in the too-small space in front of the passenger seat. He looks healthy. Happy. A blessed lightness to him that’s been absent for far too many weeks.

“I wasn’t looking at you funny,” Nico says. “I was just… looking.”

Nico fully expects to be teased for this response, but instead Will’s gaze lingers on him just a moment longer before he turns back to the windshield, a smile still tugging at his lips.

Nico swallows, casting around for a change of subject.

“Hey –” he says, mostly to distract himself, “what were you singing in the shower this morning? It sounded like Latin.”

It had been months since Nico had heard Will singing in the shower. He was sure he was imagining it for a second. Then, when it became clear that he wasn’t, he spent far too long standing outside the bathroom door, drinking it in, letting the sound sink right into his bones.

“Oh,” Will laughs, “sorry about that. It was one of Kayla’s choir songs. I was helping her practice the other day.”

“It was nice,” Nico says. There was something sure and soothing about the melody. Melancholy, but hopeful. “I – wait, Kayla sings in a choir? That’s cool.”

“I’m not sure if it’s cool, but yeah. She sings in the Congressional Chorus.” Will shifts, pulling his shirt away from himself and flapping it a bit, an attempt to get some air flowing. “She was the lead singer for a punk band, back in Fort Worth. She missed it when we moved here, and so she ended up joining a choir.”

Nico laughs, surprised. “A punk band? That’s amazing. Kayla’s great. I liked her. When –” he cuts himself off, heart sinking. When I went to tell her you were missing. When we sat together at your bedside. Because that topic’s definitely off-limits and yes, Nico’s just about enough of an idiot to bring it up now, when things finally feel like they’re getting back to normal.

There’s silence for a moment, but then Will says, softer. “Yeah. She – she said she liked you, too. She said it was nice to finally meet you in person, even though…” Will trails off, then shrugs, turning his face to the window.

The weight presses back into Nico’s chest, the one that makes him despair that he’ll ever be able to take a full breath again. But a second later Will clears his throat. “The Latin bit means, The sun warms everything even when I’m far away. Love me faithfully and know that I am faithful..” Will’s voice is rough, but steady, and he gives Nico a half-smile when Nico looks over.

Will turns to the windshield again, raising a hand to wipe at his eyes. There’s no trace of the sun in the sky now, just a dusky glow at the horizon. The headlights flash white on the road ahead of them. “It’s sad, but also kind of reassuring,” Will says. “It’s about how people in your life might come and go, but each of them leaves a bit of them with you. Everyone you’ve ever met, everything that’s happened to you – you collect all those little pieces in your heart.”

“That’s – nice,” Nico manages around the lump in his throat. And when he glances over yet again, a few minutes later, Will just looks settled. Soft. Somehow relaxed in this shoebox of a car. So maybe Nico hasn’t completely fucked everything up after all.

Will does look hot though, literally, sweaty ringlets at his temples and a glow to his skin that’s certainly more than some kind of inner peace.

Nico leans forward, holds a hand over the vent. “I’m not convinced there’s any cool air coming through at all,” he says sadly. “Stupid compact cars.”

“Aww, it’s not Yaris’ fault,” Will says, patting the little car’s dashboard affectionately. “She’s doing her best. Any car would have trouble keeping up with this heat.”

This is patently untrue, but Will thinks the car is adorable – a completely unnecessary and stupid attribute for a car.

“Okay if we open the windows for a while?” Nico asks. It’s not a lot more comfortable than driving down the highway being cooked alive with the windows closed. But variety is the spice of life.

Half an hour later the noise of the wind is worse than the heat, and Nico closes the windows again. It’s fully dark now, but it doesn’t feel as if the temperature’s dropped in the slightest.

Will’s hair is wild and windblown, eyes watering from the dust blowing off the road. He turns the AC up max as the windows rise. Will checks the vent this time, grimacing. “You’re right. No cold air.” He gives Nico a once-over, skeptical. “You don’t have secret mechanical skills you’re not telling me about, do you?”

Nico snorts. “I wish. Do I look like a mechanic?”

There’s a pause, then, “no. You do kinda look like this skater kid I had a crush on in tenth grade.”

Nico barks out a laugh. When he glances over, Will’s smiling, his gaze on his lap. “It’s – the band tee, and the ripped jeans. The greasy hair.” Will waves a hand in Nico’s direction and shoots him a quick grin, bashful.

Nico’s heart throbs in his chest. He shoves his hair off his forehead. “I’m sweaty not greasy,” he says. He tugs at the collar of his shirt. “I was actually pretty good on a skateboard,” he says after a moment. Because okay, yes, he wants to chase that high of Will’s attention.

Will looks intrigued. “Yeah? You should show me sometime.”

“Not sure that’s a good idea. It’s been a few years. I’d probably end up breaking a hip.”

Will laughs. The sound is so easy. So much like before. It makes Nico’s throat constrict. It’s not that he hasn’t heard Will laugh in the last few months, but he’s suddenly hit with the crashing certainty that it hasn’t been that laugh.

Will leans back in his seat, closing his eyes. A moment later he shifts, pulling at the front of his shirt, trying for some airflow. “I’m so hot,” he groans.

“And so modest,” Nico shoots back, earning a grin.

Nico’s eyes flick to the sign at the side of the highway – Willesden, 20 miles.

“What did that say?” Will asks, squinting.

About a month after Tooms, Nico – idiotically, unthinkingly – had asked Will if he wanted to drive as they left on a case. Mostly, he’d been desperate to give Will some momentum, some action. Keep him busy with something other than staring catatonically into the distance for the next two hours. There’d been a loaded pause before Will had replied, “I can’t drive without my glasses. I – haven’t gotten them replaced yet.”

God. Right. The glasses. A tiny bit of proof that Will had been there, in the park, crushed under Nico’s heel. Nico had spent the next two hours in his own dissociative state.

Nico forcefully smashes that memory into a mental safe and locks it. “Willesden, it said. Why, you wanna stop for snacks?”

“No, just curious.” Will glances out the window, miles and miles of dark woodland flashing by outside the windows, no other cars in sight. Nico glances at the clock on the dash. They’d planned to drive back to DC tonight, but he’s not sure how much longer he can bear in this oven of a car. He raises a hand to wipe sweat out of his eyes.

“Hey. They have a swimming hole,” Will says suddenly.

“Huh? Who has a swimming hole?”

“Willesden. I went there once with Kayla and some of her friends. We should go!”

“You want to go swimming? Now? In the dark?”

“God, yes, don’t you?”

Does he? Cool water. And maybe not cool air, but less stuffy. And the thought of getting out of the car for a while is appealing. Not to mention that Will sounds really fucking stoked about it, and Nico always has a hard time denying the appeal of that.

“I’m literally drenched in sweat,” Will says. “Do you really wanna smell me all the way home?”

Nico blinks, caught out. Neither of them smells like a bed of roses right now, but he had kind of been appreciating the heat of Will beside him. The way the temperature in the car had been bringing out that smell that’s just Will. Sure, maybe a little sweat, but sunshine and summer, too. The berry smell of his shampoo.

Will, unfortunately, seems to be a bit too perceptive this evening. “Maybe you do want to smell me all the way back to DC,” Will says, leaning a little closer, grinning.

“Fuck off,” Nico complains. When he shoves at Will’s shoulder, Will is warm, warm, warm. Solid in a way that makes Nico want to press his face into Will’s chest and take a nice, deep inhale right against warm, freckled skin.

Okay. Maybe it really is time to get out of this hot little car.

“Fine,” Nico sighs, doing his best not to sound too enthused. “We can swim.”

Will actually claps his hands. Nico snorts.

“Okay, I’m pretty sure I remember how to get there.” Will leans forward, squinting down the dark road. “There are a few dirt roads that lead off into the woods, just about a mile before the turnoff. I think it’s the second one.”

“You think?”

Will shrugs. “We’ll find it.”

“On a dirt road. In a compact car. In the dark.”

Will grins, fluttering his eyelashes. Sadly, a compelling argument.

They do find it, in fact. Will’s directions are surprisingly good, considering his night vision is crap even with glasses. The Yaris just barely makes it a quarter mile into the woods, Nico gritting his teeth the whole time and Will chattering encouragement next to him, pointing ahead into the darkness where Nico’s 90% sure he can’t see much of anything. The second time the little car almost bottoms out in a pothole, Nico’s entirely ready to turn back, but then they reach what seems to be the end of the road, a solid wall of dark pine ahead of them.

“Are you sure this is it?” Nico asks. He’s feeling increasingly skeptical now, and increasingly concerned with how they’re going to coax the Yaris out of the woods when there’s no discernible space to turn around.

Will’s out of the car and a few steps into the trees already. Nico hurries to follow.

“Yeah – see the arrow?”

Somehow Will picks out the little sign in the dark, though he had trouble spotting Nico across the hotel lobby this morning. And anyway, the arrow could mean anything, couldn’t it? A hiking trail. A steep dropoff. Rabid grizzly bears, straight ahead. But Nico follows Will anyway, following the flash of moonlight catching his curls just before they’re completely under the cover of trees.

Will makes an oof sound a second later.

“Tree?” Nico asks.

“Maybe?” comes Will’s voice in the dark, repressive.

Nico sighs. “Stay right there. No, literally do not move,” he adds, stern, when Will looks as if he has no intention of complying. “Not a step. I’m going to go grab my flashlight. And wait – we don’t even have like – towels,” he calls over his shoulder, to no response.

With growing misgivings, Nico digs through the little hatchback’s trunk for flashlights. He unearths one, at least. Several items fall from his overnight bag onto the dirt at his feet, several more tumbling out when he crouches to retrieve them. Shoving everything back into his bag and smushing the bag back into the trunk, Nico once again curses the perils of compact cars.

What else? Towels? No. Neither of them brought a towel, because they were staying at a fucking hotel. Nico doesn’t even have swim trunks, he realizes belatedly. How is this even going to work? Maybe he can just roll up his jeans and dip his feet in. Should he bring his gun?

Forcing the trunk shut, Nico turns back to the woods, flashlight lit. He immediately stumbles. When he aims the flashlight at the ground, the beam illuminates one of Will’s hoodies, a casualty of the trunk explosion. He stuffs the hoodie under his arm and heads back into the trees.

Will does not particularly know the way, as it turns out, and after nearly losing his partner several times as Will attempts to walk in a completely opposite direction to where the path is leading, Nico grabs Will by the shoulders, forcibly swapping their positions so Will’s behind him.

“It’s up there!” Will exclaims suddenly. “Do you see?”

Nico does indeed, calm water sparkling in the moonlight. The dirt trail under their feet gives way to scrubby, mossy vegetation, water lapping at the borders. It’s a small lake, the opposite side visible, not too far. Easy swimming distance, certainly. It’s pretty. Kind of magical in the moonlight, the water framed by willows and vines. The air is still stuffy, hardly much cooler than it was in the heat of the car, but the water looks cool and fresh. Nico really should have brought swim trunks.

There’s a splash to his left. Will surfaces just a second later, hair plastered to his forehead, a huge grin on his face, addictive and contagious. “It’s cold,” he laughs before disappearing under the water again.

It’s fine for Will, Nico supposes. He’s been in swim trunks all day. Although they’ll be a bit wet on the ride home… Nico glances at the scrubby grass beside him. There’s Will’s t-shirt. And his swim trunks.

Butterflies in his stomach, a whole fucking herd of them. “Solace, are you skinny-dipping?”

Will is treading water, grinning. Nico can’t help a glance downwards, though it’s dark, of course, and Will is completely submerged. He’s grateful, for a second, for Will’s less-than-stellar vision.

“There’s no one here,” Will says.

“I’m here,” Nico protests weakly.

“You sure are.” Will gives him a once-over, obvious about it. More butterflies. “So are you getting in, or what?”

Nico grimaces. His gaze catches on the cool, moonlit water, circles gently radiating out from where Will’s head and shoulders are visible. Nico’s shirt is almost soaked through with sweat, damp under his arms and all the way up his back.

“You can swim, can’t you?” Will says, suddenly worried.

“Yeah, I can fucking swim.” Nico sighs. “Fine. I’ll get in.” He pulls his shirt off. God, that feels better already. There’s no breeze, but it’s really fucking nice to feel less damp. He carefully lays the shirt flat on the ground. Maybe it’ll dry a little while he’s in the water. He pops the button on his jeans.

A wolf whistle echoes across the water, and Nico looks up to see Will’s eyes on him, a stupid smile on his face.

“Don’t watch me,” Nico laughs. The butterflies are kind of ridiculous now. But – it’s just swimming. Right? It’s dark. And like, it’s better than risking heat stroke on the highway. Obviously.

“Fine.” Will rolls his eyes, then disappears under the water again.

Still in disbelief that he’s actually been convinced to do this, Nico sheds his jeans and underwear. And jumps in. He hopes it’s deep enough to jump – Will did, after all.

It is. Nico sinks for a second, feet bumping against the muddy bottom. He pushes back up, surfacing not far from Will. And like Will said, it’s cold. Spring-fed, maybe. The water is bracing, alerting Nico’s entire body very quickly and thoroughly, from his toes to his scalp.

“Hi,” Will beams.

Nico rolls his eyes, then takes off swimming. By the time he reaches the far end, he’s breathing hard, but at least his body’s starting to warm up. He dives back down, swimming just below the surface for as long as he can hold his breath, then surfacing, a smooth front crawl back towards the other side. The water is clear; when Nico opens his eyes underwater, he can see the moonlight filtering through, can just make out the pale silhouette of Will’s body as he swims by in the opposite direction.

For a while, they both just swim, back and forth across the little lake in the moonlight, occasionally exchanging a glance or a grin, but no conversation. It doesn’t feel necessary. And the fact that it doesn’t just feels right. It feels blessedly normal.

Nico swims quickly at first, but then his pace slows. After a while he rolls in the water to float on his back, tiny adjustments to keep himself afloat, his gaze gentle on the endless dome of the velvet sky above, a million glittering stars he can never see in the lights of the city. It’s like a cathedral, he thinks vaguely. There’s something quiet and reverent about being out here. Peaceful, like all’s right with the world, he and Will two little specks of stardust in the vast universe.

Something grabs his ass.

Nico makes a very high-pitched, very embarrassing sound, flailing to achieve some kind of verticality, looking around wildly. The first thing he sees, aside from splashes of water and the tilting of the forest as he rights himself, is his fucking partner. Will surfaces at the same moment that Nico looks in his direction, eyes wide, one hand pressed briefly over his mouth before he needs it to stay afloat again.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Will laughs. Whatever he sees in Nico’s face makes him laugh harder, and he goes under, surfacing a second later, spluttering, water streaming down his face. “I was trying to grab your ankle, to scare you –”

“That was not my ankle,” Nico says weakly, his heart still running marathons in his chest.

“Yeah.” Will’s laughing almost too hard for speech. “It felt a lot… fleshier.”

“Dickhead,” Nico laughs. “First you grab my ass and then you insult my ass?”

Will opens his mouth, maybe to reassure Nico about his ass – Nico interrupts, instead, quite sure he doesn’t want to have that conversation. “I thought it was some kind of fucking – swamp monster, and that I was about to get – eaten, or at least lose my – my –”

Will hasn’t stopped laughing. “Your family jewels? Your undercover brother?”

Nico snorts. “My Washington Monument,” he says, because he remembers Leo saying it recently.

“Really,” Will says, glancing downwards, intrigued.

Nico scoops one hand into the water and does his best to give Will a faceful of pond. Most of it misses. Will laughs, loud, and ducks under again. Nico swims away in a hurry, just in case Will’s getting any ideas about a repeat ass attack. Nico doesn’t think his heart could take it. But when he stops and turns, Will’s still where Nico left him, soaking wet, something warm in his gaze that makes Nico want to swim right back again.

He does. But he tries not to look like he’s rushing, or anything.

“I really am sorry,” Will says as Nico gets closer, still grinning, eyes sparkling in the moonlight. “I promise I wasn’t actually trying to grab your ass.”

Nico rolls his eyes. “It’s fine.”

They watch each other for a moment in the near-dark, Nico suddenly feeling much warmer than the water should allow. Will’s face is gentle. Calm like Nico doesn’t think he’s seen it in months. He can’t decide if he wants to cry or cradle that sweet face in his hands and kiss it, properly, every inch of freckled, sunburnt skin. Neither of them looks away, the expression on Will’s face mirroring his own, Nico thinks. Uncertain. Wondering.

God, it would be so easy to make this so complicated.

Nico, unsurprisingly, breaks first, the butterfly storm in his gut reaching untenable proportions. He drops backward into the water, sculling his hands. “There was one spot where it was shallower,” he says, glancing behind him. “I wouldn’t mind not having to keep myself afloat for a while.” He doesn’t quite want to tear himself away from this little sanctuary yet, but he’s getting a little tired of swimming.

“Yeah, I think it’s near that far shore,” Will says, and they both make their way through the water. “There’s a ledge of rock where it’s actually shallow enough to sit. Just watch out, there are some –”

“Ow, fuck,” Nico groans, catching his ankle against a rock ridge. The flash of pain is sharp enough that he’s pretty sure it drew blood.

Will grimaces. “–some sharp bits, yeah. Are you okay?” He paddles closer, then rights himself. Nico swims a bit further before he’s able to set his feet on the mucky bottom.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Nico reaches down, carefully brushing fingers over his ankle. “I think I just grazed it.”

“Is it bleeding? Do you want me to take a look?”

“Well, not now,” Nico says, flicking a glance towards the opposite shore where all his clothes are. “I’m not getting out over here and I’m not about to try to lift my ankle over my head. Unless you want me to have a whole new injury.”

Will laughs. “Yeah, okay. Remind me later.”

Will continues a bit further towards the shore, more cautious now. “Over here – careful.” Close to the shore, just under the overhang of willows. Nico can tell Will’s crouching at the water gets shallower. Finally, he sits, the water level just below his armpits.

That’s just as well, right? Nico doesn’t really want to risk seeing… anything. He’s having enough trouble keeping his eyes away from broad freckled shoulders, the lines of Will’s pecs and collarbones, all wet and glistening in reflected moonlight. Who could blame him, really. There’s just so much of Will. So very many miles of sun-kissed skin that are normally swathed in layers of fabric.

Nico carefully picks his way to a spot a couple feet away, the water level settling a bit higher for him, almost to his shoulders.

Will shoots him a quick smile, something shy, before turning his gaze back to the expanse of calm water before them. The moon’s dipping lower now, but its reflection still stretches out across the water, a path of cool light in the darkness. It catches on the treetops, the acres of forest stretching out all around them.

“It’s really pretty,” Nico says, soft. It’s not just pretty – this private little oasis feels almost healing, in some way. Cathartic. But that sounds stupid. So he sticks to the basics.

“Yeah.”

There’s a long stretch of quiet, then. Not awkward, though. Just peaceful, in quiet company with their thoughts.

Nico thinks, for probably the dozenth time this month – maybe this is the time. Maybe now they could actually talk about everything that happened in April. Maybe he could tell Will how fucking scared he was. How in those hours, walking the streets, fully expecting to find Will’s body, Nico thought over and over how he would give absolutely anything to find Will alive. How he’d still give anything to keep Will here with him. How he’s spent these last few months aching for Will, knowing how very not okay he is, wishing desperately he knew the right thing to do or say to make it better.

Will hasn’t said more than a few words about any of it. Will, who’s supposed to be good at talking. At feelings. Will, who opened up about his childhood, his relationship with his father, just a few days after his father’s death. It had seemed easy as breathing, for him. Will, who’d gotten Nico to open up about his own father, without even trying.

Nico’s not sure when he finally accepted that what he feels for Will is more than just a crush, but he thinks it might have been somewhere around the 12-hour mark in the search, back in April. There wasn’t time to think about it then, of course. And at the time, it only made the guilt worse. Now, though, maybe…

Nico takes a breath in, heart pounding, still not sure exactly how brave he’ll be when he speaks.

“Can you still prescribe antibiotics?” is what comes out, when Nico opens his mouth.

Will turns, grinning. “That’s what you were thinking of, gazing out over all this breathtaking beauty?” He extends his arms over the moonlit water.

“Well, my ankle still hurts,” Nico says, defensive. “And these rocks are kind of slimy. I’m just wondering exactly what we’re sitting in.”

Will snorts. “Yeah, I can prescribe antibiotics. Or you might want to go see a real doctor.”

Nico scoffs. “You’re real enough.”

“Do you wanna get out now, if you’re worried that we’re soaking in a vat of bacteria?”

“Nah,” Nico says, doing his best to sound like he doesn’t actually have strong feelings on the subject. “It’s probably good for my immune system.”

Will flicks water at him, just a little splash with his index finger. Nico huffs, leaning away.

“Do you ever think about going back to that? To medicine?” Nico asks. He’s almost positive Will doesn’t. But it’s the easiest and most cowardly way he can think of to ask, “are you going to leave me, now that you know how hard this job can be? Now that you know how hard I can be?”

“No,” Will says immediately. “Medicine wasn’t for me. I don’t ever regret leaving.” Will floats his hand on the water’s surface, slowly skimming back and forth, thoughtful. Nico can see it in the slight furrow in his brow, the slightest tilt of his head in Nico’s direction. His gut twists, bracing for whatever’s coming. But I’m thinking about leaving this job. But I don’t think I can keep doing this.

I just don’t trust you anymore.

“How about you?” Will asks, finally. His hand is floating on the water’s surface, palm up. Is it an invitation? Everything inside Nico is urging him to reach over, while all of his actual physical being remains resolutely where it is.

“Me?”

“Yeah. Do you ever – I don’t know. The paranormal beat can be hard, right?”

Nico feels his heart sink, and maybe Will can see it, because he immediately rushes on with, “I just mean – it must feel like you’re fighting an uphill battle sometimes, right? Octavian’s not a fan of the department. And –” there’s a hesitation that feels particularly weighty, “ –you’ve said – in the past. About not being taken seriously. By – other departments.” Will says all this extremely haltingly, and Nico thinks he’s probably not mistaken in the assumption that Will started his thought without realizing how close he was coming to talking about That Which They Do Not Mention.

“I – no,” Nico manages, trying to gather his thoughts. “I don’t – it’s like you said, a while back,” Nico’s voice goes a bit softer. He floats his own hand on the water, palm up, mirroring Will’s. “I don’t think there’s any other job I’d want to do. At the Bureau. I know that it’s not always… perfect,” he decides, “but it’s mine. It’s a job, right? No one loves their job every second of every day. But I can’t imagine doing anything else. I don’t want to.”

“I admire you. For that,” Will says, soft.

Nico laughs. “For being stubborn? Stuck in a rut of my own making?”

A flash of white teeth in the moonlight. “Yeah.” Will floats his hand a little closer, brushes the tips of his fingers against Nico’s. The sensation flashes across Nico’s body, down his neck and his chest. It tingles in his cheeks.

“It’s reassuring,” Will says slowly. “To know that you’re so sure about what you’re doing. It always makes me feel more sure, too. I like that I can count on that.”

It would probably be really weird to hug Will right now, wouldn’t it? When they’re both completely naked, marinating in this pond of bacteria. Nico settles for brushing his fingertips back against Will’s, feeling it in his stomach this time. In his heart.

“Back when I was working at Violent Crimes – I loved it, at first,” Nico says. He hesitates, gazing out over the water for a long moment. There’s barely a ripple now. They’ve both been holding nearly still in their little corner, and there’s no breeze, nothing. Nico can smell the rich pine scent in the August-warm air, earth and life all around. Will’s gaze is waiting for him when he turns back, head tilted, patient.

“I felt like I was doing exactly what I was meant to,” Nico continues, his voice a little rougher. “Like all my experience, all my education culminated into something I was really fucking good at. And it was really good for a while. But it started to wear on me so quickly. Like, six months in, suddenly I didn’t want to go to work in the morning.”

Will nods, slow. “Yeah, I get that.”

Nico takes a deep breath. “It was all these big operations, always high-stress. And, you know – it was serial killers. Really grisly murders, all the time. Constantly trying to get inside the heads of these really bad guys. The worst of the worst. And the pace was just – I couldn’t do it. We’d finish up one case, and I’d feel really accomplished for a second… but then we just dived right into another one. Another really bad guy. Someone even worse. And I’d have to figure out what he was thinking. And I – I think I was getting depressed. It was like I was sleepwalking through everything, all the time. Not just at work, but the rest of my life too. I felt like a failure. This was what I thought I’d always wanted to do and then –” Nico shrugs. “I just couldn’t.”

“That’s – I mean I know it was a different situation,” Will says, “but that’s pretty much exactly the way I felt when I dropped out of medicine.”

Nico nods. He knows this. Maybe it’s what endeared him to Will so quickly, all those months ago. It felt so fucking familiar, like looking into a mirror of his own life. Like, maybe both of them needed to crash and burn to end up here, together.

“You’ve never talked about that before,” Will says. Maybe some surprise in his voice, some hurt? For a second it seems like he’s going to say more, but then he just shakes his head.

“I – it’s not that I didn’t want to,” Nico says after a long stretch of quiet. It’s an apology, of sorts. The best he can manage. But Will seems to understand, because when his voice comes through the darkness again, it’s teasing.

“What else aren’t you telling me?”

Nico shrugs, cool. “Stick around and you might find out,” he says, while his heart, stupidly, is screaming, please don’t leave me.

When Nico glances over, Will’s gaze is warm, sure. “I don’t have any other plans.”

Nico’s throat goes tight. “Good,” is all he’s got for a response.

“Good,” Will echoes.

“Hey,” Nico says before he can completely chicken out. He doesn’t think he can say what he actually wants to say. But he can say something.

When Nico shoots a glance over at Will – god, he’s beautiful. The shine in his eyes. The way the moonlight catches on his hair – in complete and glorious disarray, curls everywhere, half already dry and frizzing, others still in perfect damp ringlets that Nico wants to twist his fingers into.

Nico swallows, turning back to the water stretching out before them. It’s always easier to talk properly when he doesn’t have to look at Will head-on. When he doesn’t have the distraction of those blue eyes gazing into his soul, those soft lips he’s becoming far too fixated on brushing with his fingertips. “Can – can I ask you a favor?”

“Of course.”

“I know these last few months have been – hard,” Nico says. The words hang heavy in the dark space between them, as Nico finally dares to put some voice to this thing that they’ve both been so determinedly avoiding.

“But – I just wanted to say – please don’t shut me out. If you can. If – I don’t know. If things are hard. Or if you’re not – feeling like yourself,” Nico manages, halting. He’s not sure that he’s even making any sense. But he can’t bear to say it any more explicitly. He still feels ready to shatter into a million pieces when he thinks too hard on it. “Maybe I deserve to be shut out. I probably do. But I want you to know that you don’t – you don’t have to pretend you’re okay if you’re not. Not with me.”

There’s a long silence. Nico feels frozen in place, terrified to look over at Will.

“You don’t deserve to be shut out,” Will says, finally.

“No, don’t –” Nico shakes his head. God, how do people even do this? “I’m not trying to – make this about me. I’m sorry if that’s how it came across.”

“It didn’t. I think I know what you mean.”

Nico honestly doesn’t know what else to say, or how to say it. This day, this whole trip has been almost perfect. And now, maybe, he’s gone and gouged a dark mark over all of it. But there’s a niggling feeling, growing stronger, that maybe there can’t be any properly perfect days before he at least makes an attempt to repair the imperfect ones.

“I’ll try,” Will says. “Not to shut you out. I didn’t – I don’t want to.”

Nico nods, throat tight. “Okay.” And then, because it’s twisting in his chest and he’s terrified he still hasn’t properly said what he means – “I missed you,” Nico manages, his voice rough.

There’s a pause, but then – “I missed you, too.” Will’s voice is wobbly. Carefully, he reaches over, a gentle grip on Nico’s arm, just below his shoulder. Nico feels all the broken parts of him not heal exactly, but definitely start moving in a different direction. A better one.

Nico dares to look over. Will’s hand is warm, his eyes shining with tears and moonlight.

“We’re gonna be okay,” Nico croaks. He needs to believe it.

Will nods. “Of course we will.”

They don’t leave the little lake, not yet. They stay a while longer, in mostly quiet companionship, watching the slow progress of the moon across the heavens.

“Is that Orion?” Will asks, pointing.

Nico squints at the stars scattered over the dark sky above. “No fucking clue.”

Will giggles.

Nico looks over, appraising. “You’re starting to drawl. We better get you to bed,” he says unthinkingly.

Will’s brow furrows. “I’m – what?”

Nico feels his face warming. Lucky for him, he’s fairly certain Will can barely even recognize him right now, in the dark. “You – your Southern accent starts coming out. When you’re tired,” Nico says, awkward, painfully aware that he’s never, ever mentioned it in almost a year of noticing it. “It’s a harbinger.”

“It’s a harbinger?”

“Yeah,” Nico says. “It means you’re gonna fall asleep within the hour, so when I hear those – those i’s turning into ah’s, I know I need to get you coffee or get you to bed.”

Will presses a hand over his mouth. “I don’t do that,” he mumbles, affronted, “and you – you’ve never mentioned that before.”

Nico begins to swim backward, still watching Will, amused. “No I haven’t, and yes, you definitely do.” He laughs at the look on Will’s face and turns, diving under the surface. Nico reaches the far shore first, turning back to look at Will, who still looks mildly offended.

“You just said you didn’t want to do profiling anymore,” Will protests.

Nico rolls his eyes. “That’s not profiling, that’s just observation. Now, turn around so I can get out.”

Will huffs, but turns. Nico chances a glance over his shoulder as he hauls himself nakedly out of the water.

“You know, I really can’t see anything anyway,” Will calls, still turned away. “You’d just be like, a fleshy blur to me.”

Nico shakes his head. “I’m gonna have to ask you to stop calling me fleshy.”

Will laughs, sharp.

“I grabbed one of your hoodies. Okay if I use it to towel off?”

“Yeah, good idea.”

Several minutes later they’re both out, mostly dry and mostly dressed. Will kneels to tie his runners. They return to the cover of the woods side by side, Will almost immediately walking into a tree.

“Jesus, Solace. Here, hold my arm.”

Will does, a tight grasp of Nico’s sleeve as they reposition themselves to walk single-file. Nico slows his pace a little to avoid giving his partner a concussion.

“I really need to get my glasses replaced,” Will mutters. His grip on Nico tightens as he stumbles over a root.

“Eh. Don’t worry about it,” Nico says. “I’ll be your seeing eye… guy.”

Will giggles. He stumbles again, knocking right into Nico, warm and solid. Nico steadies them both. Luckily, they’re back at the car.

Will gets settled in the passenger seat as Nico rounds the little vehicle, quickly determining they’d mostly likely get hopelessly stuck if they tried turning around. Jaw set, he manages to reverse all the way out of the woods. Will is very impressed, which helps a little. Nico eases the car back onto the highway, pushing it back up to speed. He thinks it’s possible the temperature has dropped a couple of degrees. But probably not.

Will yawns, then immediately looks over at Nico, guilty. “I’m not falling asleep,” he lies.

Nico rolls his eyes. “Ah’m not fallin’ asleep.” he teases.

“Fuck you.”

“D’you think Willesden has a hotel?” Will asks. He sounds, Nico thinks, as if he’s trying very hard not to drawl now. And failing. Nico, magnanimously, does not mention this.

“You don’t want to drive all the way back to DC tonight?” Honestly, Nico could really go for a soft-ish bed and some AC right now.

“There’s no rush. Right?” Will turns.

And of course Will simply means there’s no rush to get back home. Nico knows this. But it feels like so much more.

“Right,” Nico agrees, throat tight. “There’s no rush.”

Notes:

1. Halfway through writing this fic, I realized I wanted to write a chapter based on the title, which is from Nightswimming by R.E.M. This is it :) You should listen to it if you haven't. If you want, you can also listen to me attempting the piano accompaniment. 2. The "Canadian music" Frank lent Nico is an excuse for all the 1990s Canadiana on my fic playlist. Which I will probably remember to share at some point. 3. Most of you are probably too young to have watched Doogie Howser, but it was a sitcom that ran from 1989 to 1993 featuring Neil Patrick Harris as a genius teenage surgeon :) 4. Thank you, always, to @rosyredlipstick the beta & ongoing moral support <3 5. Thanks to all of you for reading and commenting and waiting! I just realized the other day that I hadn't updated since November 1. The next couple of chapters are mostly done & shouldn't take as long to get out. 6. Almost forgot! The song Will sings in the shower is called Omnia Sol. 7. Oh! And the Placebo mention is for @anything-thats-rock-and-roll :)

#my writing #x-files au #solangelo #nico di angelo #will solace #conservatively rated teen for now #alternate universe - fbi #songfic sort of

12 notes · View notes