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2nd2ndalto · 2 months ago

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

(chapter 2 here)

Chapter 3

Nico’s hit by an unexpected jumble of emotions, watching the other man. Because yes, he’s appealing. There’s no question that he’s attractive. But Nico’s most surprised by the relief that he feels. It softens his shoulders and unclenches his jaw. Relief that Nico doesn’t have to do this all on his own. The nearly-forgotten joy of having someone to share this with. Someone, who, maybe, will hold this work just as close to their heart as Nico does.

November 1998

Will is pleased to find that he and Nico fall into a surprisingly easy rhythm over the next few weeks. Their days alternate between poring over files in the office, pinch-hitting for other departments, and of course, investigating their own possibly-paranormal leads. Nothing much comes of the latter over the next month, but Nico doesn’t seem deterred, simply moving onto the next hunch, scanning the newspapers spread over his desk, more than happy to answer whatever questions and arguments come to Will’s mind.

Will had expected Nico to be far more distrustful of a new partner, especially one ostensibly assigned to keep him in check, but that expectation dims steadily day by day until Will wonders why he thought it in the first place. While Nico can be almost comically close-lipped on personal matters, he’ll happily talk endlessly about case work. Will finds himself greeted at the door by on the daily, a cursory hello and then a run-down of whatever file Nico has pulled or news article he’s found, full of ideas and eager for Will’s input.

In between navigating his way around the stacks of files in the basement office and the endless trails of bureaucracy in the J. Edgar Hoover Building, autumn blurs towards winter almost without Will noticing. At some point, he realizes, he’s stopped the mental countdown to the end of each work week.

November 4th, 1998

The early-morning silence in the basement is broken by the slam of the fire door in the hall, and Nico glances at the clock and then the office door. Will’s right on time.

“Hey,” he says as his partner enters the office.

“Hey,” Will grins.

Will looks genuinely pleased to see Nico, despite the fact that they’ve begun most mornings with some variation on this exchange for the past almost-two months. Nico can’t quite make sense of it, and Will’s reaction is still a little jarring, every time. Not unpleasant, though.

Will’s gaze travels over the office. It’s undeniably in more disarray than usual; a messy stack of papers on Nico’s chair and another at his feet, drawers gaping on all four filing cabinets. Nico feels he’s in more disarray than usual as well, sweat beading on his forehead, shirtsleeves rolled, tie and blazer thrown over the top of his desk with his coat and overnight bag.

“This looks serious,” Will says, dropping his bag to perch on the edge of his desk, long legs swinging.

“Yeah,” Nico says, pausing to shove a hand through his hair. “It’s um – there’s a trial I have to testify at, in Richmond. I was involved in a murder investigation there last year. So I have to leave…” he glances at the clock again. “Well. I should have left already, honestly. And I’ll be gone until the end of the week, at least.”

“Oh,” Will says, visibly wilting a little. “I guess you don’t need a partner for that.”

Nico smiles. “No. I don’t think Reyna would go for it. Besides, it’ll be boring.”

Will nods, thoughtful. “Okay. That’s cool.” He’s still swinging his legs, but less energetically now, a quiet thump-thump of his shoes against the wood of the desk.

An unexpected rush of guilt dampens Nico’s momentum. “I should have told you I’d be leaving. I – I guess I’m still getting used to having someone else in here.”

Will shrugs. “That’s okay. Not a problem.”

But it kind of is a problem, isn’t it? Nico’s had partners before, occasionally. Those other partnerships hadn’t ended badly per se... but he can honestly say he never really missed any of those agents when they left.

It feels different, with Will. Like he fits here. He’s more invested than others Nico’s worked with, and Nico’s found himself warming to that without really meaning to. It’s like Will wants to be here.

Will has this knack for assessing a situation, understanding exactly what needs to be done, and just doing it. And that’s awfully nice, honestly. It’s reassuring knowing that someone else is always paying attention, that someone will remember to complete a task if Nico gets distracted, even when it’s something as simple as locking the door, or rescuing Nico’s coffee seconds before he knocks it to the floor.

And despite the differences in their backgrounds, Nico’s never had a partnership that felt so… collaborative. It’s sometimes even more like a mentorship, with Will still as green as he is, but it’s comfortable. Organic. Over the last two months they’ve become… maybe not friends, but friendly.

“Well.” Nico clears his throat. “I really should have told you. I’ll make sure to keep you in the loop next time.” He glances around, distracted. “You haven’t seen a notebook with a blue cover, have you? It was –”

“This one?” Will asks, leaning forward and seemingly plucking the thing from thin air. Nico sags with relief.

“Yes. Thank you.” He accepts the notebook, shoving it into his briefcase and grabbing his jacket from the desk. Nico glances around the chaos of the office. “I’ll uh… clean this up when I get back,” he offers, guilty.

Will’s mouth twitches.

Nico can feel Will’s eyes on him as he collects his things. “You’ll um… I’m sure you’ll be able to find enough to occupy yourself with, while I’m gone,” Nico says.

Will nods. “Yeah. No worries. Actually… I was thinking I’d reorganize the black filing cabinets while you’re gone.”

Nico gazes at the other man for a long moment, pained but trying desperately not to let it show on his face. The black cabinets, the case file cabinets… those are his. And the thought of one single file out of place makes him want to tear his hair out.

Will’s blue eyes are wide and guileless.

“Um,” says Nico, eloquent.

Will’s mouth twitches and he lets out a giggle.

Nico takes in a long breath.

“Sorry,” Will laughs, unable to maintain the facade a second longer. “You should have seen your face, though.”

Nico shakes his head, glancing back at his desk to make sure he hasn’t missed anything.

“I’ll keep myself occupied. Even if I’m not allowed to touch anything while you’re gone,” Will teases.

Nico huffs, embarrassed. “Not anything, just –”

“I know, I know. It’s okay,” Will laughs. “Drive safe, okay?”

November 10th, 1998

Nico leans back in his chair, stretching. His eyes flick to the clock on the wall. God. He’s only been here for an hour and already he thinks he’d rather listen to every single one of Will’s boy band CDs back-to-back than ever look at another expense report.

Sadly, he surveys the neat pile of documents he’s already completed – depressingly small – then the monster pile of random papers still awaiting his review.

It’s his own fault for letting it get to this point. Which isn’t consoling in the least. At least Will should be here soon. While that won’t make the work go any faster, at least it’ll be a good distraction.

With that buoying thought lingering, there’s the slam of the fire door, then a voice singing in the hallway. Something Disney. The tune is familiar now. Unfortunately. Will’s been raving over how good the acoustics are in the hall, even going so far as to drag Nico out there and listen. Nico shakes his head.

“Morning – oh.” Will closes the office door behind him, stopping short as he surveys the mess on and around Nico’s desk. And okay, there’s usually a mess on Nico’s desk, but Nico can tell from the way his partner’s face falls that Will recognizes this isn’t anything like a fun mess. Not a pre-road trip mess. Not a mysterious-lights-in-the-sky mess. Not even a Nico-misplaced-his-keys-again mess.

“Yeah,” Nico agrees, glum. “Reyna wants these expense reports by the end of the day.” He gives the papers on his desk a half-hearted shove. “ And –” he waves a hand disconsolately to a box on the floor next to him, “those case reports.”

Will grimaces. He sets down his bag and opens his mouth to speak, but then the phone on his desk rings. Will hurriedly steps over a banker’s box, misjudging the distance and making a somewhat ungainly leap. Nico winces as his partner catches himself on the desk corner, barely managing to remain upright.

Nico returns his attention to the soul-crushing mountain of reports. He realizes his teeth are clenched, and focuses on loosening his jaw. It’s going to be a really fucking long day.

Will replaces the receiver, turning with a sigh. “Apparently I’m going to Fairbrook,” he tells Nico.

“What’s in Fairbrook?”

“Shortage of medical examiners, it seems. Bodies. Possible serial killer,” Will says, tearing off a sheet of notepaper and neatly folding it before shoving it into his pocket.

“Well that sounds a lot more fun than this,” Nico pouts. Now he won’t even have company. He kicks at a banker’s box, stubbing his toe hard enough that tears spring to his eyes. He curses under his breath.

“A serial killer sounds more fun than paperwork?” Will grins, scooping up his overnight bag. His gaze travels over the depressingly bureaucratic landscape of the office. He sighs. “Yeah okay, you’re right. Sorry – I thought maybe I could give you a hand.”

Nico huffs. “It’s really not your problem, Solace. Just my own procrastination catching up with me. Happens about this time every year. I appreciate the thought, though.”

“Well,” Will says, grinning. “I’m not sure how you’ll get through without the pleasure of my company.”

“It won’t be the same without you,” Nico says, dry.

Will beams. “I know.”

Nico rolls his eyes. “See you when you get back,” he says, turning back to his desk. “Call me if you see anything spooky.”

Nico’s still at it just after seven pm. He’s hungry, stiff from hunching over his desk, his hand cramping from signing reports. But the stack of papers is shrinking steadily and it seems prudent to get everything over with tonight and make a fresh start tomorrow. Each time he finds himself in this situation, he swears this is the year he’ll stay on top of things, get everything filed the moment a case is done, instead of dropping random papers and receipts into the overflowing in-tray of doom. Once again, he makes this sacred vow to himself.

The office is silent, and Nico’s startled when his phone rings. He jumps up from his desk, sending a neatly stacked pile of reports cascading to the floor, and cursing as he digs in his coat pocket. He answers on the last ring.

“Di Angelo,” he says into the phone.

“Hey, Nico, it’s me.”

Through the speaker, Will’s voice sounds crackly and a bit uncertain. Vaguely, Nico’s surprised at how pleased he is to hear from his partner, whom he hadn’t expected to see until tomorrow at the earliest.

“Do you have a second?” Will says. “I’m sorry to bug you at home, but I wasn’t sure who else to ask.”

Nico makes his way back to his desk, attempting to gather the fallen papers one-handed, then quickly giving up. He drops back into his chair. “Yeah, of course. I’m actually still at the office. But it’s okay, I’m not busy. What’s up?”

“I’m not entirely sure. I performed two autopsies today. Two young women, both with the same cause of death - strangulation. Both deaths match the pattern of the murders they’ve seen here recently. The odd thing is, each victim was missing her pancreas.”

“That is odd,” Nico agrees, flipping over a discarded envelope to scribble notes. “The killer removed the organs?” He’s mostly listening to Will, but already scanning through his mental inventory of any historical case that might be similar.

“No, that’s what’s really odd. There’s no sign of the pancreas being removed,” Will says. “No scar tissue, nothing. It’s possible to be born without a pancreas, but it’s really rare, and there’s nothing about it in either woman’s medical history.”

“Huh.” Nico stares at the bookshelves across the room, trying to make sense of this. “That’s strange. Anything similar in the autopsy reports from the previous victims?”

“That’s actually what’s bothering me the most,” Will says, frustrated. “They won’t release the previous reports. I tried explaining that I can’t provide a comprehensive evaluation without information about the other victims, but they’re just being… I don’t know. Really obstructive. No one seemed the least bit concerned about the missing organs.”

Nico scrubs a hand over his face. “Major Crimes? Those guys can be really proprietary. And it’s always a rush to the finish line with them. But that would raise some red flags for me, too.”

There’s silence on the line for a moment. “Also the pizza here sucks,” Will mutters, defeated, and Nico laughs. They’ve gotten in the habit of trying out the pizza in every small town they’ve visited in the last two months, Will’s reasoning being that pizza may not always be good, but it’s almost always edible.

Nico leans back in his chair, thinking. “You know, I know someone in the PD over there. I’ll make some calls.”

“Yeah?” Will says, sounding brighter.

“Yeah. I’ll ruffle a few feathers, see what I can come up with.”

“I hate ruffling feathers,” Will admits. “I pushed as much as I could, but it was pretty clear that they wanted me to file my report and leave town.”

“I’m fine with ruffling feathers,” Nico says. “Let me take care of it.”

It takes several more hours in the office and a promise on his firstborn to file all future paperwork in a timely manner, but Reyna agrees to authorize the trip, sounding only a little irritated when Nico calls her at home.

The next morning, Nico’s on the road just before sunrise. He arrives in Fairbrook a few hours later, heading directly to the Super 8 on the edge of town and rapping on Will’s door, the thrill of a new mystery buzzing in his veins.

Will’s face brightens as he opens the door. His white dress shirt is pristine, his tie a bright blue that makes his eyes seem sharper. “Hey. I didn’t expect you until closer to lunchtime.”

Nico shrugs. “Early bird gets the serial killer.”

Nico closes the door behind him, toeing off his shoes and following Will to the table by the window. He pulls off his coat and blazer and takes a seat, scanning over the papers spread over the table’s surface.

“I’ve got a copy of the autopsy report from yesterday,” Will’s saying, digging first through his bag, then a stack of files on a chair. Finally, he extracts a file and passes it to Nico. “And I managed to talk to one of the other medical examiners this morning, the one who did the second autopsy. She was sympathetic, but not much help. It sounds as if her examination was pretty thorough, and she hadn’t noted any missing organs. I took some notes.” Will crosses to the bedside table, returning with a notepad emblazoned with the hotel logo, several small pages of neat handwritten bullet points.

Will sits back, shoving a hand through his hair. He looks tired in the bright light filtering through the sheer curtains, hair mussed and purple shadows under his eyes.

Nico takes a moment to skim through Will’s notes, quiet in the hotel room.

His partner stands after a moment, stretching. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Danish?”

“Please,” Nico says.

A moment later Will’s passing him a small styrofoam cup, the flimsy plastic lid already thoughtfully peeled back. He offers a cardboard box of pastries and Nico takes one gratefully, trying to keep his now-sticky fingers off Will’s notes. Four female victims, between the ages of 19 and 22. Each had gone missing after nights out with friends. Each one strangled, the bodies later discovered by passersby.

“Killer appears geographically stable,” Nico mutters, his gaze flicking over Will’s careful notes. The guy’s got really nice handwriting. Nico’s a little jealous. Sometimes he has trouble deciphering his own notes, after the fact.

“Murders all took place within a three mile radius. Strangulation…” Nico glances through the pages, trying to slot the pieces together. “Could be just convenience, I suppose. Maybe he didn’t have easy access to a weapon. Strangulation is cleaner than using a gun or a knife. Or the killer could enjoy the process,” Nico muses. “Choking can be used as a torture method – strangling the victim untill they lose consciousness, but deliberately not killing them. The killer likes the degree of control it affords them, straddling that line between life and death.”

There’s no response to this and Nico glances up to see Will looking pale. He shakes his head. “Sorry. Just thinking aloud. Anyway, Major Crimes’ll know all that already.”

“No, don’t be sorry,” Will says. “That’s – important information to have. Isn’t strangulation often used in sexually charged crimes?”

“That’s right. No sign of sexual assault for any of the victims?”

Will shakes his head.

“That doesn’t rule out some kind of sexual motivation, but…” Nico shrugs. “Do you think they’re close to catching this guy at all?”

“No idea. But everyone’s been so tight-lipped. For all I know he’s already been booked and fingerprinted.” Will sighs, frustrated. “So what do you think? Are you seeing a paranormal angle on this one?”

“Well, I took a look through some files last night,” Nico says. “There are some cases of organ-harvesting cults, but this doesn’t really line up. In 1956 there were reports of an Air Force sergeant, reportedly abducted by a flying saucer…”

Will raises an eyebrow, lips twitching.

“He was found later in the desert in New Mexico, body drained of blood. His tongue, eyes and anus had been harvested with surgical precision.”

Will’s eyes go wide, horrified. “Jesus.”

“Yeah,” Nico agrees. “And then there’s the Dyatlov Pass incident –”

“I think I remember hearing about that one,” Will says, nose scrunching. “In the 1950s?”

Nico nods. “Nine Soviet hikers. Found variously missing eyes, tongues and eyebrows.”

Will looks slightly ill. “Eyebrows??”

Nico shrugs. “Not all of them.”

“Not all the hikers or not all the eyebrows?”

“Both. Neither,” Nico says, taking another bite of danish.

WIll watches him, maybe a little disturbed that Nico can appreciate pastry at a time like this. He shakes his head after a moment. “But wait – that was an avalanche, wasn’t it?”

Nico shrugs. “Maybe. Or a Yeti. Government interference.”

Will’s fighting a smile. “Government eyebrow interference?”

Nico waggles his, and Will laughs.

“Well, I don’t think this is related,” Will says. “All the victims had their eyebrows. As far as I know.” He lets out a breath. “So. No obvious connection to historical X-Files cases. Paranormal angle to be determined. No one working the case wants to talk to me. And now I’ve wasted half a day in a bad mood, filling up on caffeine and sugar, and I’m no further ahead than I was last night,” he sighs.

Nico nods, deeply sympathetic. “We’ve all been there.”

“So what do we do now?”

Nico shakes his head, mouth full of too much danish. Will waits as he finishes chewing, his expression drifting towards amused as Nico finally swallows. “Sorry,” Nico wipes his mouth. “Those are actually really good. And I forgot to eat before I left DC.”

Will grins, reaching for the open box and passing it back to Nico. Nico takes another.

“How about you tell me what we do now,” Nico says, sinking his teeth into pastry and icing once more.

Will’s eyebrows twitch upwards. “Me?”

Nico nods. “This is your case. I’m here at your invitation. At your service.” He makes a little bow.

Will breathes out a laugh, meeting Nico’s gaze for a moment before glancing away, a light flush coloring his cheeks. “Um. I don’t know.” The uncertainty in his face combined with the freckles scattered over his nose and cheeks suddenly make him look impossibly young.

“Yeah, you do,” Nico says, patient.

Will’s gaze drifts to the table. He reaches for one of the autopsy reports, the most recent victim. “Can we – I think I want to talk to the family. Of the woman murdered on Thursday. If they’ll talk to us.”

Nico’s chest warms, a small surge of pride. “Only one way to find out.”

Half an hour later, they’re making their way towards a squat, red brick bungalow on a quiet, tree-lined street. There’s a misty rain falling, and Nico pulls his coat tighter around his shoulders. Will’s been quiet since they left the hotel, something somber in the set of his mouth.

Nico can never quite shake the twinge of guilt, the feeling that he’s intruding, when he approaches a family who’s recently lost someone. He wonders if Will is having similar misgivings.

“It’s okay,” Nico murmurs. “We’re just doing our job. We’re trying to help.”

Will nods, shoulders relaxing a fraction.

The woman who answers the door is slight and angular, with graying brown hair pulled into a low ponytail and a thick brown cardigan wrapped around narrow shoulders.

“Mrs. Johnson?” Will asks, and she nods. “I’m Special Agent Will Solace and this is Special Agent Nico di Angelo. We’re investigating your daughter’s death, and we wondered if we could ask you a few questions.”

The woman nods immediately. “Yes, of course. Please come in.”

The house is cozy inside, the walls lined with formal family portraits and innumerable candid photos of a brown-haired girl with bright, laughing eyes, her life told in pictures; a toddler riding a bike, a child grinning from her father’s shoulders, a teen standing on the front steps in a prom dress.

The interview goes much as Nico would have expected. Mrs. Johnson has already been interviewed by Major Crimes and her answers to Will’s questions have a practiced, tired cadence to them. Will’s tone is professional, but warm. Nico can easily imagine him at a patient’s bedside.

“And did Angela have any medical conditions?” Will asks.

Mrs. Johnson shakes her head. She dabs at her cheek with a kleenex. “No, she was healthy. She always had so much energy.”

“Was she taking any medications?”

“No, just vitamins.”

Will continues with questions about birth history and medical history, uncovering nothing out of the ordinary. Nico rises after a while, taking in the details of the room, all the trappings of a busy family life. When Will pauses in his questions, Nico asks, “Do you have any other children, Mrs. Johnson?"

“No,” the woman smiles sadly. “Angela was our little miracle. We tried to conceive for years before we had her. I had to have fertility treatments. But she finally came along – we were so happy.” Her face crumples and Will puts a hand on her shoulder, glancing to Nico, who nods.

“I’m very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Johnson. Thank you for your time. We can see ourselves out,” Will adds, when the older woman begins to rise. “Here’s my card,” he adds, placing it on the coffee table. “Please don’t hesitate to call if you think of any other information that might be relevant.”

They let themselves out and Will sags as the door closes behind them, running a hand over his face.

“Okay?” Nico murmurs.

Will nods, beginning to lead the way back to the car. “I couldn’t bring myself to go into specific detail about the autopsy. Do you think I should have?”

“Trust your gut,” Nico reassures him. “You’ve got this.”

Despite the fact that Will’s not sure he’s much further ahead than he was when he woke up this morning, it’s undeniably reassuring, having Nico here. Even if it’s only for the reminder that he’s on the right track.

Back in Will’s room, Nico unwraps his sandwich at the little table, making a careful barrier with the foil wrapper to avoid getting crumbs on the file he’s reading. “D’you want my pickle?” Nico asks absently.

“Yes, please.” Will reaches out a hand from where he’s stretched out on the bed surrounded by papers and his own lunch. He takes a bite of the pickle and hums in appreciation before leaning over the side of the bed for his drink.

Will takes a sip and makes a face. “I think I got your Dr Pepper.” Nico automatically reaches for the drink at his elbow and they swap.

The two men are still alternating between speculation and scouring files an hour later when Nico’s phone rings. Will drops his pen on the bed next to him, flopping down and stretching out his arms and legs, half-listening to his partner’s conversation. He yawns widely just as Nico drops the phone back onto the table.

Nico leans toward the bed, holding out a slip of hotel stationary. Will grabs it, blinking at Nico’s scribble.

“My friend from the local PD – he’s acquainted with a friend of Angela Johnson’s. The friend wants to help if she can,” Nico says.

Will pushes himself up, squinting at the paper.

“What do you think?” Nico asks.

“I think you have terrible penmanship,” Will says, solemn.

Nico huffs, snatching the paper back. “Jerk.”

Will grins. “We should go talk to her, though.”

The hotel room has gotten progressively messier over the course of the day, with the two of them working and eating in here; the tiny hotel trash cans overflowing, bags and jackets abandoned everywhere. Will feels a brief pang of annoyance that Nico’s room will still be freshly cleaned when he retires there this evening.

Will ducks into the bathroom, surveying his appearance critically, straightening his tie and doing his best to tame his hair. When he leaves the bathroom it’s to the sight of Nico looking around distractedly, pulling on a blazer that’s clearly too big for him.

Will pauses in the bathroom doorway, smiling to himself as Nico registers the too-long sleeves, shoulders much broader than his own. The sight makes something flutter in Will’s chest, involuntary, and he quickly tamps it down.

“This is yours,” Nico realizes aloud, and Will laughs.

“Yup.”

Nico hands the jacket over with a sigh. Will, spotting Nico’s blazer before he does, holds it up for the other man by the shoulders. Nico rolls his eyes, but allows Will to help him into the jacket.

“Much better,” Will says approvingly, a brief pat to Nico’s shoulder.

“It’s not nice to laugh at short people, Solace.”

“I would never,” Will says gravely.

Will’s feeling anxious as Bonnie Fletcher ushers him and Nico into her small apartment, but he relaxes by degrees as the meeting progresses. Bonnie’s tearful, but grateful for their help, and they fall into easy conversation. Nico seems more relaxed here too, Will thinks, and that helps. He finds himself relying more and more on Nico’s presence to smooth the rougher edges of situations such as these. There’s something about his quiet thoughtfulness that’s intrinsically reassuring.

Will lets his attention drift a bit as Nico and Bonnie discuss a concert coming to a nearby town, how both had tried and failed to secure tickets.

“They were Angela’s favorite band,” Bonnie says regretfully. “We’d seen them together a few years ago, in Philadelphia.”

Nico nods, sympathetic.

“How long had you and Angela known each other?” Will asks, taking the break in the conversation in what he hopes is a natural direction. He’s pretty good at interviewing patients for medical histories, he thinks, and this isn’t dissimilar.

In his periphery, he sees Nico settle back a bit. It’s the smallest movement, but Will takes it as a reassurance. That he can do this, that Nico thinks so too. It’s begun to feel like a dance sometimes; the two of them moving through the cluttered office together, through crime scenes and stakeouts. A dance in which the two of them feel more sure of the other all the time, an easy give and take.

Bonnie sighs, pushing dark blonde hair back behind her ears as an orange tabby winds around Nico’s ankles. He reaches down to scratch its head.

“We met in first grade,” Bonnie says. “We were fast friends. My mom had just gotten a new job and she was working nights - I ended up practically living at Angela’s half the time. Have you met her parents? They’re really lovely people. They were like a second family to me.”

Will nods, his heart sinking for this little constellation of humans, none of whom deserve any of this. “We talked to Mrs. Johnson earlier today. She was very kind.”

Bonnie smiles sadly, gazing at Will for a moment. “She really is. She said she’d spoken to some other FBI agents earlier this week. I offered to talk to them too, but I haven’t heard anything else about it.” There’s a sudden beeping issuing from the kitchen, a timer. Bonnie starts. “Excuse me one moment.”

Will glances at Nico. The other man is looking displeased, a twist to his mouth. Will raises an eyebrow, questioning.

Nico shakes his head, a brief glance in the direction Bonnie disappeared. “Seems as if they could have come and talked to her too,” he says quietly.

“Maybe they haven’t had time?”

“Could be.”

Bonnie returns a moment later, dropping something into a yellow medical waste container on a corner table Will hadn’t previously noticed.

“Damn vitamin injections,” she sighs, offering him a half-smile. “You said you were a doctor, right?”

Will nods.

“It’s such a hassle taking them twice a day. Unless I set timers, I forget, and then I feel like shit.”

Will frowns, diverted. “Vitamin injections? Like, B12?”

Bonnie grimaces. “Not sure, to be honest. All I know is the doctor prescribes them and I take them. Ever since I was a kid.”

Will’s mind is suddenly in overdrive, trying to make sense of this bit of information. Nico must notice, because he smoothly takes over the interview while Will sifts through his own thoughts.

“... but Agent Solace would know more about that than I would,” Nico is saying suddenly, and Will blinks, looking up. Both Bonnie and Nico are watching him expectantly.

“I’m so sorry,” Will says, feeling his face warming. “I completely spaced out there for a second.”

“The autopsy?” Nico prompts. “Bonnie was asking what you found.”

Most of the details have already been made public, and Will summarizes his findings, back on familiar ground for a moment, still puzzling over the injections in the back of his mind. It’s hard to sugarcoat the examination of a violent death, but he does his best to be succinct and kind. Bonnie simply nods, accepting, as if it’s nothing more than she expected.

“Again, I’m very sorry for your loss,” Will says into the silence that follows.

“Thank you,” Bonnie says, thickly. “I appreciate you taking the time.”

“Of course.” Will clears his throat. “This… isn’t related to Angela’s death and you’re certainly not obligated to tell me – but I’m curious about the injection you gave yourself earlier.” He can’t quite help himself. Even before he attended medical school, Will’s had a particular grievance with any medical provider whose practices are less than evidence-based, and this is troubling to him.

“Oh,” Bonnie says in surprise. “Actually, I suppose it could be related to Angela, at least somewhat. She took the same injections.”

Will feels a jolt of unease. “She did?”

“Yeah, we’d both been taking them for years. We weren’t the only ones – I have other friends who did as well.”

And then Bonnie’s up and disappearing into the other room again. Will and Nico share a glance, concerned.

“Here,” Bonnie says a moment later, returning and pressing a small vial into Will’s hands. “This is what I take. Angela, too.”

“There’s no label on it,” Will says, discomfort prickling, as he turns the little bottle over in his hands.

“Oh, that’s because Dr. Marcus gets it at a discount,” Bonnie explains.

“And you’ve been taking this twice daily? For years?” Will says, hoping he’s keeping his voice neutral.

“Yes. It’s a vitamin supplement, like I said. Dr. Marcus says it’s something to do with a deficiency particular to this area of the country.” Bonnie frowns. “I guess I never really thought much about it, I’ve been taking it for so long. Do you think I should stop?”

Will shakes his head immediately. “No, no. I’m not a practicing physician, and I’m obviously not your physician. This is…” he holds the vial up to the light. “This isn’t a treatment I’m familiar with, though, and I wouldn’t mind looking into it a bit more.”

Bonnie nods. “Sure, of course. You can take that with you, if you want. I just stocked up. And the doctor – well, he’s everyone’s doctor in town, really. He has an office on Third Street, right next to the Dairy Queen. If you wanted to ask him about it.”

Will nods. “Thank you.” At his shoulder, he sees Nico scribbling all of this down.

“What do you think?” Nico asks, a sidelong glance at Will as they make their way back to the car.

Will chews on his lip. “I’m not sure. Mysterious supplements? Twice daily for years? That seems awfully sketchy. I’ve never heard of any vitamin deficiency that requires daily injections.” He shoots a glance at Nico, who’s watching him, intent. “This might not have anything to do with the murders, but I’d really like to investigate further.”

Nico is quick to agree. “I trust your judgment. Let’s look into it.”

“It’s really odd that they’re not labeled at all,” Will muses as Nico pulls away from the curb. “On one hand, I’m all for making medication more affordable. If this doctor is playing the system somehow and getting all these people discount meds… I don’t want to be the one to mess that up for them.”

Nico hums thoughtfully. “That’s a valid point. And people don’t even always understand what their medication is for, right? I remember reading that it’s some really low percentage of patients who understand everything their doctors tell them. Maybe it’s not a vitamin deficiency at all. Maybe that’s how Bonnie understood it years ago and no one ever bothered to ask any more questions.”

“That’s definitely a possibility,” Will agrees. Maybe this is nothing at all, just random loose ends. He wonders about the utility of wasting their time and resources on a hunch. But he doesn’t think he can let this one go.

“We could go talk to this Dr. Marcus?” Nico glances at the clock on the dash. “It might be too late to catch him at the office, but we could swing by and check.”

Will turns the little vial in his hands, thinking hard. “I don’t think so. Not yet. I think… I think I’d like to find out exactly what’s in here before we go asking any more questions.” He makes a face. “What do you think? Am I being too paranoid?”

Nico shoots him a grin. “You can never be too paranoid, Solace. Nice to see I’m rubbing off on you.”

Three hours later Nico’s just finished today’s field report – on time, for once – when there’s a knock at the door.

He opens his door to the sight of his partner, clad in swim trunks and a soft green t-shirt, blond curls ruffled. There must have been a logo on the t-shirt once, but it’s faded beyond recognition, maybe something with palm trees. The shirt hugs the planes of Will’s chest, a pleasant stretch over pleasantly broad shoulders. Will looks glowy and sunkissed, despite the fact that they’ve had nothing but cold rain in DC for weeks. He’s got yellow flip flops on his feet and god, how are his legs so fucking long?

Nico cringes inwardly, feeling short and pale and overdressed, not to mention completely out of line for noticing any of this. Briefly, Nico wonders if Will frequents one of those tanning places that have popped up all over DC, then remembers that he’s been party to Will’s views on melanoma. Must be just good genes, then.

“Hey,” Will grins. “You up for a swim? I just checked the pool, it’s pretty empty. I thought I might do some laps, decompress a bit.”

Nico considers the relative merits of leaving his room and stretching his legs versus staring at the TV for a few hours until he passes out. It’s a tough choice. He was just about to put on his pjs.

“They have a hot tub,” Will says, light wheedling.

Nico huffs. “Fine. I guess. Meet you there?”

It’s almost half an hour before Nico leaves his room, most of that time having been spent trying to talk to anyone from Major Crimes who’ll tell him anything at all. He’s irritable and twitchy, half-considering just hiding out in his room – who knows if Will will even still be at the pool – but he forces himself into trunks and a t-shirt, then out into the corridor, shivering as the too-high air conditioning immediately wicks the all the heat from his exposed skin.

The pool area is visible from the hall as Nico approaches. It’s decent-looking, clean and bright, a red and blue spiral slide descending from near the ceiling. The water’s surface is smooth, untouched, a striped, inflatable tube floating serenely at the surface. Nico feels a brief pang of disappointment that he’s missed out on Will’s company. Kind of silly, considering they’ve just spent all day together. Considering they spend most days together.

But he hears voices raised in laughter as he pushes the door open, and a glance across the room reveals his partner, hair damp and even more tousled now, seated at a table in the corner with two others: a woman in a dark green hijab and a man with a mess of bright blond hair. Nico makes his way towards them, cautious at first, then quicker as he recognizes them both. All three faces turn and smile as he approaches, and Will nudges his chair over, making room.

“Hey, I didn’t know if you were going to make it,” Will grins, eyes bright. “I hear you already know Sam and Magnus?”

The man across the table rises with a grin, wavy blond hair overlong and falling over his forehead. He extends his hand to shake. “Agent di Angelo. Good to see you.”

“Agent Chase,” Nico says, then puts his hand to his chest and nods to Sam. “Agent al-Abbas. Small world.”

Nico takes the chair next to Will. He’d been looking forward to the hot tub, but this is good, too. Nico briefly worked with Magnus during his tenure at Violent Crimes, then grew to know Sam when Magnus was transferred and partnered with her. They’re good agents, thorough and thoughtful, both lacking the ego that seems to trail so many of his colleagues.

“You know I’ve been trying to track down someone from Major Crimes for the last hour,” Nico says, light. “Guess I should have thought to check the pool.”

Magnus rolls his eyes. It’s a conversation they’ve had before, and Magnus knows Nico means present company to be excluded from the complaint. “Yeah, they excel at making themselves unavailable.”

“Did you need anything in particular?” Sam asks, a quick glance around to make sure there’s no one to overhear. “Magnus and I have only been in town since yesterday afternoon, but we can try to help.”

The four agents share their findings with each other, Sam and Magnus managing a concise summary of the case thus far, much more informative than what Will had managed to cobble together from whomever had filled him in.

Sam and Magnus work so well together, Nico thinks as he listens to them. Seamless. One picking up the other’s thread, finishing each other’s sentences, affirming each other’s opinions and building a story, back and forth like a game of tennis. Something to aspire to.

They’re no closer to catching the perpetrator than Will had surmised, but it’s good to have confirmation from a closer source - and both Magnus and Sam agree that the mystery vitamin vials are worth investigating further.

“When I finally managed to talk to someone from the lab here, they said it would be at least three days for processing,” Will is saying, frustrated.

Sam nods thoughtfully. “You know, I might know someone who could get it done faster.” She glances at her watch. “It’s too late tonight, but I’ll make a couple of calls first thing tomorrow, Will. Check with me before you head out in the morning.”

Nico’s woken the next morning by a knock at the door. He’d been deep in sleep and it takes him a moment to make sense of the sound, then his surroundings. He flops over and squints at the clock on the nightstand. 5:57. Too early.

There’s another knock.

“Nico?”

Nico groans, throwing off blankets and pushing himself up, scrubbing at his eyes. “One second,” he yells, voice scratchy. He stumbles across the room, not bothering to turn on any lights. He’s pretty sure his breath is terrible, but that’s on Will for waking him at this ungodly hour.

Nico’s not sure why he checks the peephole, since he knows very well who it is, but there’s Will, distorted by the fishbowl lens and looking irritatingly wide awake. He’s fully dressed, tie and white shirt immaculate under his navy blazer.

Nico unlocks the door, opening it just enough to stick his head out, eyes watering in the sterile, too-bright light from the hallway. He squints one-eyed at his partner.

Will smiles, a teasing twinkle to blue eyes. “Hey. I know it’s early. They called me in for another autopsy.”

“Oh. Shit,” Nico croaks. He clears his throat. “They think it’s the same guy?”

Will nods. “Yeah, I got that impression. The examination’ll take me at least a few hours, so I wanted to pass this over to you in case Sam has any luck contacting a lab that can process it.” Will holds up the little vial they collected from Bonnie yesterday.

Nico grunts, accepting the bottle. “‘Kay. Got it.”

Will’s smile broadens, his eyes darting to the darkened room behind Nico. “Not a morning person, then?”

Nico scowls. “It’s not morning for at least another hour, you monster.”

Will laughs, far too pleased.

Nico squints into the over-bright hallway and then at the vial in his hand. “This is supposed to go to Sam, right? Why didn’t you wake her up at the ass crack of dawn?”

Will shrugs, unrepentant. “Dunno. Maybe just because you’re special.” And then his hand darts forwards and he pinches Nico’s cheek, grinning like an idiot.

Nico startles a half-second later, reflexes dulled by the early hour. “Did you just pinch my cheek?” His voice sounds aghast, croaky and incredulous in the mostly-empty hallway, but Will’s already gone, leaving nothing behind but a thread of laughter and the bright scent of the hotel shampoo.

Nico scowls hard, shoving the door shut with more force than necessary and scrubbing at his tingling cheek.

If there’s been another murder, that means there’s an active crime scene, and after contemplating this for another half hour in his darkened room, Nico finally gets up and heads for the shower.

The crime scene is flooded with agents. Nico lingers on the periphery, wondering where the fuck all of them were last night when he was desperate to get some information. With Will still mid-autospy, Nico’s caught a ride here with Magnus. They’d dropped Sam and the vitamin vial off at the university on their way.

Magnus gives Nico a half-smile as he lopes back towards him. “Victim was male,” Magnus says, planting himself next to Nico, hands in his pockets. “Twenty-one, murdered on his way home from his shift at the Kroger down the street.”

Nico frowns. “Doesn’t quite fit the profile of the previous victims. Interesting. Was he strangled?”

Magnus nods, his gaze on the mass of agents within the police tape a few yards away. The crisp morning breeze ruffles his shaggy hair. “From what I gathered, yeah. Guess we’ll hear more once Solace is done. How’s that working out, anyway?” Magnus asks, turning to Nico. “Your new partner,” he clarifies.

“Yeah. He’s…” He’s a pre-dawn cheek-pincher. He looks like a hot surfer crossed with a hot camp counselor.

He makes me happier to go to work in the morning.

“He’s a good guy,” Nico says, finally. “A decent agent. He’s still learning, but… so far so good.”

Magnus nods. “That’s good to hear. Last time we talked, it sounded like they were closer to shutting you down than adding a second agent.”

Nico nods. “Yeah. You know, I think they were hoping he’d discredit me. Seems like he missed that memo, though.”

Two hours later Nico’s back in his room, still no sign of Will. Magnus and Sam have been corralled into fingerprint processing, Nico having been made to feel superfluous by the onsite special agent in charge. He supposes he can’t really blame them; it’s not as if he was invited, and Will is only still welcome as long as the bodies continue to accumulate.

Feeling a little bored and useless, Nico stares at victim profiles for another twenty minutes until the words start to blur in front of his tired eyes. His eyes drift to the notes he took as they were talking to Bonnie. Dr. Marcus...

Nico’s up in a second, crossing to the desk, yanking open the drawer and flipping through the thin phone book. He finds the listing quickly, a quarter-page ad, black ink on yellow. Dr. Robert Marcus, M.D.

He hesitates. Maybe he should talk to Will first… but then again, time is of the essence. Nico pulls his phone from his pocket, dials the familiar number. The line connects on the second ring.

“Hey, Hazel. Is Frank around?”

There’s a knock on his door not fifteen minutes later. Nico scrubs at his eyes, embarrassed to realize that he was close to drifting off, and reluctant to be caught sleeping twice in the same day. A quick glance in the mirror next to the door tells him he’s presentable enough.

“Hey,” Will greets him, not waiting for an invitation before walking into Nico’s room and throwing himself down onto the bed, face up. He stretches long arms above his head, hands clasped. “My feet are killing me,” he announces.

Torn between telling the other man to get the fuck off his bed and dropping down there himself, Nico huffs, opting for the swivel chair by the desk. Will sighs, closing his eyes.

Nico clears his throat after a long moment, and Will’s eyes pop open, a cheeky grin.

“So?” Nico asks, impatient, “did you have any useful information to share, or have you just forgotten that you have your own bed three doors down?”

Will beams. “The second one.” He pulls up his legs, rolling onto his side and making himself comfortable.

Nico aims a pencil at his partner. Eraser first, because he’s feeling magnanimous. It bounces off Will’s shoulder harmlessly, but Will sits up, ruffling his hair. “Sorry,” he yawns. “It really was an early start today.”

Nico huffs. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Did you get the vitamin injection to Sam?” Will asks, suddenly all business.

“Yeah, she’s got a friend at the university. She was hopeful they’d get it tested today.”

“Amazing.”

“How was the autopsy?”

Will sighs. “Long. Interesting, though. So, Mr. Lucas Parsons, age twenty-one – he was in possession of his pancreas, but missing his spleen.”

Nico frowns. “Really?”

Will nods, reclined back on his elbows on Nico’s - Nico’s - bed. “He seemed to be in perfect health otherwise - aside from having been strangled to death.” Will yawns again. “The strangulation pattern was identical to Angela Johnson’s. And again, the spleen – just gone. No sign of it ever having been removed. No scar tissue, no nothing. Bizarre, right?”

“Bizarre,” Nico agrees. His phone rings and he reaches for it, glancing at the call display. “Hey, Sam.”

“Hey. I just got the results from the lab. Okay if I come up?” Sam says.

“Yeah, of course. See you in a minute.”

“Sam’s got the results of the chem analysis,” Nico says, flipping his phone shut and replacing it on the table.

Will’s face brightens, like a fucking meteor.

“And get off my bed, Solace,” Nico adds, nettled. “Housekeeping was just in here and you’re messing it all up.”

“It was insulin?” Will says. “Insulin?”

“Pretty decisively, yeah,” Sam agrees, extracting a printout from her bag and pushing it across the table.

Will’s quiet for a long moment, scanning the report. “This dosage – Bonnie’s been taking 40 units, twice a day. She’s – she must be diabetic. And she thinks she’s been taking vitamins. And maybe Angela, too.” Will continues to gaze at the paper in his hand, brow furrowed.

Nico waits as long as he can stand it before speaking. “The pancreas has a role in insulin production, right? That’s about all I remember from my anatomy classes.”

Will nods, slow. “Yeah, the pancreas produces insulin. It regulates blood sugar levels.”

“So it makes sense – however bizarrely – that Angela would need to be taking insulin regularly if she didn’t have a pancreas.”

Will blinks, finally looking up. “Well, yeah. Definitely. If you have your pancreas removed – or, there’s a congenital condition called pancreatic agenesis – either way, the end result is diabetes. But you’d need regular, ongoing medical care. She’d need to be testing her blood sugar. It just doesn’t make sense that these women could be diabetic and not know about it.”

Sam takes the lab report from Will’s limp grasp, eyes scanning the page. “And what would happen if you regularly took this dose of insulin and you weren’t diabetic?”

Will shakes his head. “You couldn’t. It would make you very, very sick. Like, death-by-hypoglycemic-coma-sick.” His gaze flicks to Nico. “Bonnie – she said she’d been on these injections since she was a kid, right?”

“Yeah. And Angela had, too. And other friends, she said. Does that – could they all be missing a pancreas?”

Sam frowns. “That would be awfully strange, wouldn’t it? I mean, even just assuming all these folks were diabetic. How common is that?”

“Somewhat common in kids, I guess.” Will shrugs. “One in four hundred, I think?”

“Not common enough for half a dozen diabetic kids of the same age to all know each other in a small town though, right?” Nico asks. There’s a knot beginning in his stomach. “If these kids – what if the others are at risk, too?”

Sam raises her eyebrows. “At risk of what? Being strangled? You think someone’s going around murdering diabetics?”

Will looks uncertain. “The victim today had a pancreas. I double-checked. Although I suppose he could have been diabetic. I did a blood draw, but the results won’t be back yet.”

“Maybe there’s something weird in the town water supply?” Nico suggests.

“Causing diabetes? Or birth defects? I guess it’s possible,” Will says. “Though it seems like it would be more widespread.”

Nico wrinkles his nose. “I’m trying to think of something that would affect a portion of the population like that. It makes me of lead paint…”

“Or thalidomide,” Sam supplies.

“Yeah, right,” Will nods. “That’s…” he pauses, staring towards the window. “I want to talk to Bonnie again. And Angela’s mother. The doctor must have known. And… can we –” he turns to Nico. “Can we subpoena Dr. Marcus’ records? Is that going to take three days as well?”

Nico grimaces. “Yeah, it might. But I had another idea.”

Frank has come through as he always does, and when Will and Nico return to the hotel after dinner a few hours later, Nico opens his email to find pages upon pages of scanned documents.

Will leans over his shoulder, watching. Will smells like the fresh, misty air outside, with the accompanying lingering scent of the taco place they found for dinner. And as if that wasn’t appealing enough already, there’s this heat radiating off of Will like he’s some kind of freckly, portable furnace.

“How did you - this is incredible.” Will breathes. He leans even closer, his chest brushing Nico’s shoulder, and Nico gives up, having abruptly reached the limits of his personal space bubble. He lifts the laptop and hands it to Will.

“Are you sure?” Will asks.

“Yeah, of course. You can probably make sense of it quicker than I can anyway.”

Will takes the laptop carefully, perching on the edge of the bed and gazing at the screen. He abandoned his jacket and tie a couple of hours ago, the top two buttons of his shirt open, sleeves rolled. He’s focused, intent, and Nico can almost hear the gears turning as his gaze flicks over the computer screen. It’s a good look on him, honestly.

Not that that’s relevant in any way.

“So we’ve got admission and graduation records from every college Robert Marcus attended,” Will murmurs, half to himself. “There’s… this is a listing of all the doctors licensed in Maryland, and the District of Columbia…” Will pauses, then his intense focus falters and he grins. “Hey, there I am.” He flips the laptop towards Nico, who leans forward to peer at the screen. He smiles when his gaze catches on Will’s name.

“William Andrew. Nice. Classy.”

Will laughs. “I think you mean boring. My dad thought it sounded neutral enough that I could be a doctor or a musician.” He turns the laptop back around, greenish light cast on his freckled face.

“Those were your options?” Nico asks.

A quick smile. “Yeah. I suppose so.”

There’s a story there, Nico thinks. It catches him off-guard to realize how much he’d like to hear it.

It can be a struggle, keeping people at arm’s length. Nico’s a bit of an expert, though. He can joke around, divert, enjoy people’s company. The trick is to know when to pull back. It’s a little lonely, sure. But it’s safe. Two months in, he can already see it’s going to be harder with Will. Will, with all his proximity and cheek pinching and open smiles. For fuck’s sake, they’d barely known each other 48 hours when Nico brought up Bianca. But he’s being more careful now. Nico can do this. He’s had years of practice.

“Criminal records, vital statistics, court proceedings, state malpractice registry… wow.” Will blinks up at Nico. “Do I want to know how you got all this?”

Nico shrugs, pleased. “Well. It’s all publicly available information. It just wasn’t obtained through official channels, in this instance. I happen to have a friend who’s… very skilled at finding those kinds of things very quickly.” Frank’s been a godsend for Nico’s cases on more than one occasion. He really needs to take the guy out for dinner again soon.

Silence falls, and Nico decides it’s as good a time as any to complete his field report for the day. Twenty minutes later he’s scanning over what he’s written, making sure he hasn’t omitted any important details.

“Nico?”

“Hmm?”

Will finally looks up from the laptop screen, a crease between his brows. “I can’t find any record of a Robert Marcus having graduated from the University of Central Florida.”

“Really? Could he have changed his name?”

“Maybe, but he’d have to have his current name listed in the physicians’ registry, and it’s not in there either. I thought maybe I’d just missed it, but I’ve been over it three times. Can you take a look? I feel like my eyes are crossing trying to read through all this tiny print.”

Will hands Nico the laptop back and crosses the room to drape himself across the loveseat, long legs dangling over the armrest. Nico takes note of the fact that Will does not collapse onto the bed this time, and feels the tiniest twinge of guilt for scolding him earlier.

Will’s got an arm thrown over his eyes, and after about fifteen minutes of silence, Nico wonders whether he’s fallen asleep. He clears his throat and Will immediately looks up. “Find anything?” he asks.

“No…” Nico frowns at the screen.

“And he definitely graduated in 1970?” Will asks, pushing himself up.

“Yeah. Hold on.” Nico reaches across the table for his legal pad, flipping through ink-smeared pages. “Yes, 1970,” Nico confirms. He holds out the notebook and Will crosses the room to accept it.

“University of Central Florida, class of 1970, license number 243209, M.D., Ph.D…” Will reads aloud. “Wait. We haven’t – has Major Crimes already spoken to Dr. Marcus? Where did you get this information?”

Nico blinks. “Um. Magnus gave it to me.” He and Will gaze at each other for a moment. “I can’t actually remember if he told me where he got it from. We were at the crime scene this morning talking to some of the other agents, and then Sam called for a ride… I guess I got distracted.” Nico checks his watch. “It’s not too late to call, is it?” But he’s already reaching for his phone.

“Hey, Magnus?” Nico says. “Yeah. Is it okay if I put you on speaker? It’s just me and Will.”

Over the speaker, Magnus sounds keyed-up, wide awake, and Nico and Will are treated to about ten minutes of crime scene recap and a side-rant about fingerprint processing policy before they can get a word in.

“Magnus, you gave Nico some contact information for Dr. Robert Marcus earlier,” Will says finally, when Magnus pauses for breath. “We were wondering – has Dr. Marcus been interviewed yet?”

“Oh.” There’s a moment’s pause, and then Magnus’ voice crackles over the line. “No, I don’t think so. Why?”

Nico and Will trade a glance. “Where did the information about his credentials originate?”

“Oh! It was on the first autopsy report.”

Will frowns. “It was? Why?”

“Did I not mention? Dr. Marcus conducted the first autopsy.”

Will feels absolutely wide awake, a dozen possibilities racing through his mind, but after an hour of shared speculation, Nico practically pushes him out the door, telling him firmly that it’s too late to do anything more tonight and they’ll pick up their investigation again in the morning.

Will forces himself into bed, but he’s buzzing with questions, staring wide-eyed at the dim ceiling, gaze tracing over the sprinkler head, the line of light seeping between the curtains. Magnus had made some calls after they spoke, finally able to discover that Dr. Marcus wasn’t asked to perform subsequent autopsies in this case because his initial report was “lacking in detail.” What does it all mean? Will eventually sleeps, but it’s in fits and starts, and at six am he decides he’s done for the night.

Half an hour later, showered and dressed, he’s burning to take another look at the documents he and Nico had been sifting through last night. Nico had forwarded the emails, but unfortunately Nico’s room is the only one with an ethernet port. Will grabs his laptop and heads downstairs to the business center.

He stops in at the continental breakfast on the way, stomach gnawing at itself. It’s a disappointing selection - the muffins and danishes look as if they’ve been there for a few days. But the doughnuts are tantalizingly fresh, plump and shining with glaze. Will grabs two in a paper napkin and heads across the lobby to the narrow room housing a few desktop computers and a tired-looking printer. He plugs his laptop in and waits for the machine to boot up, gazing idly across the lobby out the front door of the hotel, the sun just starting to cast the parking lot in pinkish orange light.

Finally logging in, Will sees the documents Nico forwarded and several new emails, too. He smiles to himself as he scrolls down to read the thread from the beginning. Nico, apparently unable to follow his own advice, had begun trading messages with his mysterious information-gathering friend nearly an hour after Will left his room. He scans through a few messages from a Frank Zhang, who promises to send Nico whatever he can find, and then – two new messages arrive as Will’s reading the previous ones, both from Frank, addressed to Nico and carbon copied to Will.

Found this, the message body reads. Wanted to call and get your reaction, but it’s early. Talk later, F..

Will waits anxiously for the painfully slow download, then opens the documents. He blinks, hardly able to process. He reads through them twice more before he’s made sense of what he’s looking at.

Three rejection letters from the University of Central Florida, each dated a year apart. An acceptance letter from the New Eden School of Natural Health and Herbal Studies the following year, then a record of Robert Marcus’ expulsion from the New Eden School only a few months later, for reasons of academic integrity violations, plagiarism, and inappropriate behavior. Then one final document, city records showing that Robert Marcus purchased the building on Third Street and set up his practice in Fairbrook a few months later.

When Will meets Nico in the hallway of the fifth floor, the dark-haired man is already dressed and looking frantic.

“Did you see Frank’s –” Nico begins.

“Yeah, I just saw –”

“So we get a warrant, right? Charge him, bring him in for questioning and –”

But Will’s already shaking his head, grim. “No, we can’t do that, not yet.”

“What? Why not? He’s committing a felony. He’s been committing a felony for decades!” Nico’s wide-eyed and frazzled-looking.

“It’s not a felony in the state of Maryland.”

“It’s not?” Nico asks, incredulous.

Will grimaces. “He’ll get a fine, but they can’t necessarily hold him on anything. And I’m not –” he glances up and down the hall. “Come on, let’s go to your room.”

Will barely waits for the door to close before he’s continuing the conversation, tension buzzing across his skin. “We need to talk to the families again, first,” he says in a rush. “What if –”

A look of understanding passes over Nico’s face, his eyes intent. “You suspect he’s got something to do with the murders.”

“Yeah,” Will admits. “I don’t know what, and I could be wrong, but –”

“No, I’m with you,” Nico says, immediately on board. “Something’s not adding up.”

“Or adding up too much.”

“Exactly.” And the tension in Nico’s face relaxes into a smile for the first time that morning. “Trust your gut, Will,” he says, his voice warm.

Will lets out a breath, anxious and caught out. Nico watches him for a moment longer, something pleased and proud that makes Will’s heart throb.

“Come on. Let’s go wake Sam and Magnus.”

There’s the sound of raised voices in the hall outside Nico’s room, and Nico trades a glance with Magnus where they're seated together at the table. Seconds later, Will and Sam crowd into the room.

“She had no idea she was taking insulin,” Will announces, disbelieving, before he’s even completely through the doorway. Sam shoos him the rest of the way into the room, casting a glance down the hallway before pulling the door shut behind them.

“Bonnie, I mean,” Will adds. He’s flushed, looking a little nauseous, Nico thinks. “None, no idea,” he says, his voice rising, incredulous. “For years, twice a day. Living her whole life with a serious medical condition and she had no idea. Fuck.” Will spares a glance for Sam. “Sorry,” he says, a half-laugh. “Sam’s been very patiently listening to me rant for half an hour already.”

“It’s all right, you’re entitled,” Sam says.

Will drops onto the edge of Nico’s bed, elbows on his knees. “I just can’t believe it. How did he hide this from his own patients? It’s just so incredibly irresponsible, so fucking unethical…”

Sam perches on the bed next to Will, glancing over to Nico and Magnus. “So that was our morning,” she says, dry. “What did you two uncover?”

Will’s eyes widen as he turns towards the two other men. “Shit, sorry. How did it go with Angela’s mother?”

“Well,” Magnus glances at Nico, who nods. “Much the same, I think. Angela had been taking… supplements,” Magnus grimaces, “for her whole life. Mrs. Johnson said they did some blood tests when she was born, and Dr. Marcus told her it was a vitamin deficiency – no big deal, but she’d have to take the injections indefinitely. The word diabetes was never mentioned. The doctor – Marcus, whatever – never said anything about Angela missing her pancreas. No relevant family history. Mrs. Johnson said she knew a few friends of Angela’s who were taking the supplements as well, never thought anything of it.”

“Jesus.” Will shakes his head. “Did you get the names of the friends?”

“Yup.” Nico rises, fishing in his pocket. “And we got these, too.” He holds up two little bottles of clear liquid. “This is what Angela was injecting. I guess we’d have to have it tested, but –”

“Can I –” Will rises too, plucking one of the vials from Nico’s hand. He pries off the little metal cap, then holds it to his nose and inhales. He grimaces.

“It’s insulin. Obviously it’ll have to be tested to be sure, but – see? Smells like bandaids.” He holds out the open bottle to Nico, who leans towards it, sniffs. Sure enough, it does.

Will closes the vial, looking unhappy. He drops back down beside Sam.

Sam clears her throat. “We advised Bonnie to keep taking the insulin,” she glances at Will. “And we told her we’d be in touch about next steps.”

“And we asked her not to mention the details to anyone for the moment. We don’t want Dr. Marcus getting wind of it yet,” Will finishes. “Sorry – Robert Marcus.”

“Oh!” Sam says, glancing to Will again. “And Bonnie said –”

“Right!” Will interrupts eyes widening. “I almost forgot. About –”

Sam’s nodding. “Right, about Amber.”

Nico frowns. “Amber Collins? The first victim?”

“She contacted Bonnie the week before she was killed,” Sam explains. “Bonnie said she hadn’t spoken to Amber since high school, she thought it was odd to get a call out of the blue – especially considering Amber was murdered a week later.”

“Shit,” Magnus says. “That’s… certainly a coincidence. What did Amber want from Bonnie?”

“No idea,” Sam says, frustrated. “They made a date to meet for coffee, but by the time that date came around, Amber was dead.”

“That’ll put a damper on coffee plans,” Magnus observes. “Wait – had she told the local PD about that? Or someone from the Bureau?”

Will lets out a sharp breath, annoyed. “Well she would have, but apparently no one ever came to talk to her.”

“Yikes,” Magnus says. “And oops.”

There’s a moment of silence in the room.

“Well, we’ve definitely got enough on Marcus now to get the big guns involved,” Magnus says.

“Will?” Nico prompts.

“Yeah,” Will says slowly. “I think we’ve done as much as we can from this angle. We should definitely be able to get a warrant to search his home and his clinic… probably make some charges stick, too.” He glances at Nico. “Yeah?”

Nico smiles. “Yeah.”

“Okay if I make some calls then?” Magnus asks.

Will nods, and Sam and Magnus rise as one. “We’ll let you know as soon as we know anything,” Sam tells the other two agents just before the door closes.

Will flops backwards onto the bed, then immediately sits up again, looking guilty. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to desecrate your freshly-made bed.”

Nico watches him for a long moment, then sighs, defeated. “You know what? Go ahead. Desecrate away.”

Will’s lips twitch. “Yeah?”

Nico rolls his eyes, hard-done-by. “Yeah. I suppose you’ve earned it.”

Will beams.

“Good work today,” Nico says, only a little grudgingly, and Will beams wider, dropping back on the bed again and rubbing his shoulders against the horrible bedspread like a cat on hot cement.

Nico watches, half amused, half horrified. “Gross,” he supplies after a long moment. “I’m sleeping on the loveseat tonight.

Will laughs.

As much as Nico likes ruffling feathers when he has the opportunity, he’d hate to do anything that might reflect poorly on Magnus or Sam, and thus all he and Will can do now is wait – either until they’re summoned by Major Crimes or told to go home.

Nico’s fully prepared for the next few hours to be excruciating – there’s almost nothing he hates more than just waiting around. But it’s tolerable, in the end. After leaving the hotel to grab lunch, he and Will return to his room together, both too twitchy to bear the silence and solitude of their individual rooms. Will paces, chattering and radiating nervous energy until Nico’s ready to make him into the sixth strangulation victim. But then they unearth a pack of playing cards in the drawer of the desk and they settle themselves at the coffee table, Will cross-legged on the carpet, Nico on the loveseat.

“Okay, what are we playing?” Nico asks as he shuffles the deck – okay, maybe showing off a little, using all the tricks Bianca taught him when they were kids. Will’s gazing silently at his hands, head tilted. It makes Nico feel off-kilter, and he fumbles the cards.

“Well.” Will clears his throat. “I know Go Fish. And Crazy Eights.”

“Are you serious?”

Will shrugs. “Pig?”

“What the fuck is that?”

Will grins. “When you get four of a kind, you put your finger on your nose…” Will taps an index finger to his freckled nose, then leaves it there, falling silent, blue eyes drifting out of focus. “Actually, I think we need at least one more person to play Pig.”

Nico rolls his eyes. “We’re playing poker.”

Will’s eyebrows rise. “I don’t know how to play poker.”

Nico grins. “Lucky day for me, then.”

Will grasps the basics pretty quickly, but Nico beats him again and again. “You have no poker face, Solace,” Nico groans as he wins yet another hand.

Will giggles.

Nico shakes his head. “I rest my case.” He drops his cards onto the table.

“No offense, but it’s kind of… a boring game? Don’t you think?” Will asks, hesitant, as he watches Nico re-shuffle the deck. “Maybe it’s more fun if you’re playing for cash,” he muses.

Nico pauses in his shuffling, quirking an eyebrow at Will.

Will grins. “Absolutely not. Hey, teach me how to shuffle, instead,” he suggests suddenly, seemingly unreasonably excited by the prospect.

It’s as good an idea as any, although it turns out Will’s hand-eye coordination isn’t any better than his aptitude for inscrutability, and half an hour later Will’s punch-drunk and giggly over his repeated failures to have the cards behave the way he wants them to. He masters himself enough for another attempt, looking exceedingly intent, tie thrown over his shoulder, lip bitten and brow furrowed. He splits the deck, lines up the halves. Nico realizes he’s holding his breath.

Will glances up, a long look at Nico. There’s a blond curl sticking up at an odd angle at the crown of his head. “You’re making me nervous,” Will says, finally. “Close your eyes.”

Nico huffs. Just as he’s about to comply anyway, the cards fly in an unlikely, spectacular explosion, landing on the floor, the loveseat and all over the coffee table.

Nico shakes his head, bewildered. “You’re a doctor”, he says, disbelieving. “I can’t believe they let you use a scalpel.”

“Well, usually only on people who are already dead,” Will grins, unabashed.

Will collects the cards from the floor, Nico grabbing the others within reach. Nico knocks the cards into a neat pile and reaches across the coffee table for the little box they came in.

“Wait, no, show me again,” Will protests, laughing. “I almost got it that time.”

“Absolutely not, You’re cut off,” Nico says, biting down on the inside of his cheek in an effort to maintain his own poker face. They’ve been shut up in this room for too long and everything is starting to seem unreasonably funny.

Will drops onto the carpet, dramatic, throwing an arm over his eyes. ‘When are they going to call us?” he groans. Then he drops his arm, looking up at Nico. “Hey, you wanna go to the pool while we wait? I can swim some laps and you can… soak moodily in the hot tub,” he finishes, trying and completely failing to maintain a straight face.

Nico’s just opened his mouth to splutter at Will, who’s fully beaming at him from the floor, curls spilling onto the probably-really-unsanitary carpet, when Nico’s phone rings.

“You should get that,” Will says, suddenly completely serious, wide-eyed and innocent.

Nico huffs, quickly rising and crossing the room to retrieve his phone.

“Di Angelo.” Nico raises his eyebrows at Will as he takes in what Magnus is telling them, and Will pushes himself up with a questioning look.

816 Third St. is a modestly-sized blue house with white trim, long since converted into a medical office, with a residence in the back. Will and Nico are very much not in the forefront of its ensuing raid, which suits Will just fine.

By five pm the agents from Major Crimes have surrounded the building with the intent of formally detaining Robert Marcus for questioning and serving a warrant to search the premises. Marcus puts up a bit of a fight – Will’s not sure if he hasn’t noticed the two dozen agents fanned out across the street or if he’s just that desperate – but he foolishly attempts to make a break for it, shoving aside one of the agents at his front door. Magnus, waiting at the bottom of the steps, is quick on the uptake, immediately giving chase and expertly tackling Marcus to the ground before the man reaches the end of his property.

Will shares a quick glance with Nico, impressed. “Nice moves,” Will comments under his breath.

Nico nods. “First in his class in defensive tactics. I sure wouldn’t want to jump him in a dark alley.”

With agents from Major Crimes assigned to execute the search warrant and conduct the interrogation, Will and Nico linger in the police station in the aftermath, eager for updates.

Will can’t decide if he’s hopelessly keyed up, exhausted, or a worrying combination of both. He and Nico have spent over an hour on speculation and terrible vending machine coffee when Sam appears from a hallway to their right, spotting the two and making a beeline towards them.

“He confessed,” she says quietly.

“Really? To what?” Will asks.

“To the murders.”

Will feels his eyes go wide. “Really? All of them?”

Sam nods.

“But why?”

Sam shrugs. “It’s not clear at this point. He’s refusing to say anything else until his lawyer gets here. I’m getting the feeling we won’t find out much else tonight.”

“And he confessed, just like that?” Nico asks.

“Pretty much. He folded pretty easily under questioning. He won’t give us any information about his medical background – or lack thereof – or the unauthorized treatments he was providing. But they’ve got enough to hold him now.” Sam shrugs. “So. Go team. Well done. Hit the showers.”

Will laughs.

“Actually a bunch of us are going out to celebrate in a couple of hours,” Sam adds. “That sports bar across from the Super 8?”

Nico nods. “Yeah, definitely. We’ll see you there.”

Nico’s feeling much more refreshed after a shower and an hour in his room during which he talked to absolutely no one. Will, on the other hand, is looking uncharacteristically unrefreshed when Nico knocks on his door, bleary-eyed and rumpled.

“Hey, you ready to go?” Nico says.

Will pulls a face. “I don’t know. I’m actually kind of wiped. I was thinking of just heading to bed.”

“What? No, we caught the bad guy. This is the good part, Will. You have to enjoy it.” Nico focuses on the truth of this, rather than his own reflexive disappointment at the thought of celebrating without Will.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Will says, still sounding uncertain.

“I’m always right. Come on. Sam said she’d save us seats.”

Will disappears into his room, returning a moment later with his jacket, then kneeling to tie his shoes. They’re both still dressed for work, but it’s likely half the bar will be celebrating FBI agents, so no one really has any hope of blending in with the locals anyway.

“I don’t drink much,” Will says as they wait for the elevator, a glance over to Nico.

“That’s not a problem,” Nico says immediately. “Sam doesn’t drink at all. Magnus will stay dry to keep her company. We can too, if you want.”

That’s not quite what happens, as it turns out.

Magnus, Sam and Nico stick to soda, but at some point Sam decides it’ll be funny to buy Will shots. By midnight, Will’s flushed and even more giggly than he was during his ill-fated card shuffling lesson, and he and Sam are singing along to some of the most abominably poppy boy-band music Nico’s ever had the misfortune to experience.

Nico props himself up against the bar beside Magnus, a wry smile as he watches Sam and Will at their table singing heartfeltly into each other’s faces, Will with a salt shaker as an improvised microphone. They collapse into laughter as the song ends, Sam nearly as giddy as Will despite having consumed nothing but Diet Coke all evening.

“Your partner’s a lightweight,” Magnus comments.

“Yours is a bad influence,” Nico shoots back.

Magnus grins. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They make their wobbly (on Will’s part) way back to the hotel after the bar closes. Will’s walking on his own, but he makes a random grab for Nico’s arm several times to steady himself.

“Ow, fuck,” Nico protests when Will grabs him for the third time, a bruising grip to his bicep.

“Sorry,” Will says, immediately chastened, eyes wide.

Nico sighs. “It’s okay, Solace.”

They bid farewell to the other agents on the second floor, Will hugging Magnus and blowing kisses to Sam as Nico rolls his eyes, propped against the open elevator door.

Then there’s an unscheduled detour back to the lobby when Will decides he needs a Gatorade. Nico leans against the doorway of the little vending machine nook and yawns, watching his partner’s bleary attempts to feed a dollar bill into the drink machine. Nico supposes he could have let Will manage this little expedition on his own, but supervision feels prudent at this point.

Nico finally huffs, grabbing the bill out of Will’s hand and jostling him out of the way. He gets the machine to accept it on the first try, turning to quirk an eyebrow at his partner. He’s rewarded with a soppy smile that makes his ears heat.

Finally back in the elevator, Nico punches the button for the fifth floor. Will leans into the corner, head tilted back, eyes closed. He startles when the elevator chimes at their floor.

“I should not have had all those shots,” Will groans.

Nico snorts. “It really wasn’t that many.”

“I’m not going to get in trouble for drinking on the job, am I?” Will asks, nose scrunching as he digs in his jacket for his key.

“You weren’t on the job, so no. But you are going to develop a reputation as the FBI’s cheapest drunk,” Nico says, dry.

Will giggles.

A grown man, giggling. By all rights it shouldn’t be appealing at all. Should it?

Well.

There’s nothing Nico can do about that.

“Make sure you drink the Gatorade,” he tells Will sternly, as the other man gets his key in the lock.

“Okay, mom.” Will gives him a wobbly smile.

Nico shakes his head, trying for disappointed and probably coming much closer to amused. He manages to pull up just short of fond, he thinks, if only by a razor’s edge.

“And hey,” he adds, as Will tilts into the door frame, a warm and somewhat drunken gaze aimed in Nico’s direction. “Good work this week.”

Will smiles. “Yeah. You too.” He reaches out, a gentle squeeze to Nico’s arm. “Night, Nico.” And he disappears into his room.

Nico ducks around the crime scene tape and walks up the stairs of 816 Third St., a paper bag under his arm. It’s breezy out, but mild for mid-November, wispy clouds drifting in and out of sunlight and dry leaves crunching underfoot as he makes his way up the front walk. He nods to a couple of the agents he recognizes in the front room, a core group of them still processing the mass of evidence at Robert Marcus’ clinic. Nico follows a narrow hallway to the back of the building, finding Will exactly where he expects him to be, blond curls just visible behind heaps of charts and boxes in the file room.

“Hey,” Nico calls as he enters. “I come bearing lunch.”

Will’s head pops up over the mess, and he pulls a lollipop out of his mouth to grin at Nico, lips tinted red. “You’re a godsend. I’ve been surviving on sugar-free candy for the last hour.”

Nico huffs. “I can see that. You sure those are safe?”

“I found them in the storeroom. Sealed box.” Will shrugs. “Guess we’ll find out. I don't think they had anything to do with any of Marcus’ home brews. I’ll let you know if my pancreas goes missing."

The team of agents has discovered, over the past week, that Robert Marcus spent most of his tenure in Fairbrook practicing as an amateur chemist. The insulin, mercifully, was straight from the supplier, but over the years Marcus has experimented with acne remedies, weight loss medications, and, most devastatingly, fertility treatments. The latter seem to have been the culprit of the missing organs and other congenital anomalies.

“How’s it going in here?” Nico asks. Will passes a crate of files into Nico’s arms, trying to clear a path for himself. Nico accepts it, adding it to the pile in the corner that Will’s already processed. “Any new insights? I went to your room to get you for breakfast this morning, but you were already gone.”

Will nods, shoving a box aside with his foot, lollipop still dangling from his mouth. “I wanted to get an early start,” he says, words distorted around the paper stick between his lips. “I know they’re replacing us with agents from the field office tomorrow, but I can get through this stuff quicker than they can, and I’m familiar with all Marcus’ secret codes now.”

It’s been hard work, making sense of Marcus’ notes. The guy had clearly tried to cover his tracks over the years. With some details grudgingly pulled from Marcus himself and the help of Will’s medical background, he’s managed to make sense of most of it.

There are half a dozen rolling shelves on tracks taking up most of the room, filled floor to ceiling with files. Much of the remaining space on the floor is now littered with boxes and bins.

There’s enough space for a makeshift picnic near the back of the room, however, and Nico and Will settle themselves with sandwiches on their laps, facing each other, backs against the mobile shelves. Will’s legs stretch almost all the way across the gap, Nico’s falling short.

Will reaches long arms above his head, hands clasped, then flops forward, groaning, fingertips grazing the toes of his shoes. He stays there for a moment, folded in half, eyes closed. Nico’s eyes catch on Will’s broad shoulders under his crisp white shirt, fabric heaving a little with every inhale.

“These shelves are locked in place, right?” Nico asks, a sudden need to fill the silence. He twists slightly, grasping the shelf behind his shoulder and giving it a shake.

Will pops up grinning, face flushed. “Yeah, they’re locked. You worried we’re going to be crushed? Shut down all the garbage mashers on the detention level,” he intones.

There’s a moment of silence. Nico blinks at him.

“Star Wars? No?” Will’s expression fades from teasing to appalled, blue eyes wide. “You have seen Star Wars, haven’t you?”

Nico frowns. “Maybe… maybe one of them? I honestly can’t remember. How many are there?”

“Oh my god. How have you not seen Star Wars?”

Nico shrugs, a little defensive under Will’s sudden, intense scrutiny. Despite his professional interests, he’s never really liked watching sci-fi. “I don’t know. I’ve been busy.”

“Since 1977, Nico?”

Nico rolls his eyes. “Yes, Will, I’ve been busy since 1977.”

Will shakes his head, solemn. “Well. We need to remedy that.”

Nico snorts, reaching for the paper bag next to him. He passes Will his can of Coke, glancing at the text scrawled on the sandwich wrappers.

“Thanks.” Will pops the can open and inserts a straw. “You know the original trilogy is on TV all the time. You really have no excuse.”

Nico opens his own drink, forgoing the straw and lifting the can to his lips. It’s perfect; icy cold and sweet.

“How about next time we’re on an overnight? Star Wars marathon. You and me.” Will says around the straw in his mouth, bumping Nico with his foot.

“Fine. I’ll consider watching Star Wars.”

Will looks impossibly pleased at this and Nico forcefully pushes down the warmth in his ribcage. When did he become such a pushover? He unwraps his sandwich, still hot, condensation on the inner paper wrapper. He takes a bite.

“Isn’t there a Star Wars thing on the National Cathedral?” Nico asks, trying to remember the details. “A sculpture or something?”

Will’s eyes light up. “Yes! The Darth Vader grotesque. We can take a little detour on our way home tomorrow. I’ll show you.”

Nico nods, his mouth too full of sandwich to answer.

“Hey, I got two pickles,” Will says in surprise, staring down at his sandwich.

“Oh, yeah.” Nico looks up. “I just told them to give you mine. Since you always get it anyway.”

He reaches for his Dr Pepper again, then glances at his partner. There’s something unreadable on Will’s face, his head cocked.

“What?” Nico asks, bemused. “Is that not okay?”

“No,” Will says, soft, a bit uncertain. “No, it’s good.”

They finish the rest of their meal in relative silence. Will balls up his wrapper and tosses it overhand to the garbage can. Nico watches as the foil ball misses the can by a good six inches, skittering across the floor. He snorts.

“I’ll get that later,” Will says, dismissive. He folds his hands behind his head, letting out a sigh and leaning against the shelf behind him – and then sliding backwards as the shelf begins to roll with his added weight. Will’s gaze shoots to Nico, eyes wide and guilty.

“Not so locked after all?” Nico asks, suppressing a smile.

Will lets out a giggle, nervous, hopping up and carefully stepping over Nico’s outstretched legs. A second later Nico hears the heavy clunk of the shelf locking in place.

“It’s okay,” Will reassures him, sounding unconvinced. “People hardly ever get crushed in these things.”

Before Nico can come up with a retort, the door to the file room swings open.

“Hey, Solace?” Magnus’ voice calls.

“Back here,” Will says, and a second later Magnus’s face appears around the corner, followed shortly by Sam’s.

“Oh good, you’re both here,” Sam says, pleased. “We’ve got news.”

“The first victim, Amber Collins?” Magnus asks, hopping up to sit on the counter at the end of the aisle. Sam takes the chair at his side.

“It turns out she figured out what Marcus was up to,” Sam finishes, glancing to her partner.

Nico blinks as Will slowly says, “... oh. So then –”

Magnus nods. “So Marcus decided he had to keep her quiet.”

“Shit,” Nico says. He shakes his head. “Shit. What a waste.”

Sam nods. “Yeah. I guess Amber was having some other health problems –”

“She went out of state,” Magnus supplies, “wasn’t happy with the answers she was getting from Marcus. Sounds like she was a pretty bright kid. She put two and two together and went to confront Marcus about it, told him what she suspected, threatened to go public. Marcus flipped out, lost it. Strangled her and then managed to make it look like it’d been a random attack.”

“Jesus,” Will says, with feeling.

“From what Marcus said, he was trying to mend his ways,” Sam says, sharing a skeptical glance with Magnus. “He told us he’d felt guilty about the fertility treatments for years, said he’d been doing his best to do things by the book, attending conferences and reading medical journals and everything.” She shrugs.

“Too little, too late,” Nico supplies, bitter.

“Doesn’t quite make up for the murders.” Magnus agrees.

“Anyway,” Sam says. “All that’s to say we’re pretty much wrapped up here. You gentlemen heading back to DC tomorrow?”

Will nods. “Yup. You too?”

Magnus nods. “First thing. We’ve got a department meeting right after lunch. Right back into it.”

“I have a plan for tonight, though,” Sam says, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Sam’s been asking around, apparently, and there’s a karaoke bar the next town over. So, against all of Nico’s better judgment, the four make their way over there later that evening.

The place is a hole in the wall - dingy and nearly empty mid-week, allowing Will and Sam mostly free rein over the small stage. Nico is opposed to karaoke on a spiritual level, and Magnus begs off too, claiming he can’t carry a tune in a bucket.

Magnus and Nico have a beer apiece, but otherwise they all stick to soda, Will in particular fervently refusing any and all alcohol, citing slippery slopes. But he and Sam seem to have a certain effect on each other regardless, exponential and escalating, and by the end of the evening Nico thinks Will’s nearly as giddy as he was after four shots a few nights earlier. Nevertheless, he’s steady as they head back to their rooms at the end of the night, and they make plans for an early start the next morning.

The four agents meet in the lobby for one last continental breakfast just as the sun’s rising, and an hour later Nico’s easing the car back onto the freeway, heading west.

The quiet in the car is comfortable, wrapped in the freshness and sleepy peace of early morning, a blurry mist hanging over the fields on either side of the highway.

“Have you ever tackled anyone?” Will asks after a few minutes of silence.

Nico glances over, amused. “You mean like Magnus did when they arrested Marcus? Like, in a professional capacity?”

Will laughs. “Yeah, I guess. I don’t know - have you ever tackled anyone in a personal capacity?” He quirks an eyebrow at Nico, grinning.

Nico can feel himself blushing. “Fuck off. Yes. A couple of times.”

He glances over at Will, who’s looking intrigued.

“At work,” he adds firmly. “For work.”

Will grins.

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” Nico shrugs, trying to will away the color in his cheeks. “Woke up the next day feeling like I’d fallen down a flight of stairs.”

Will nods thoughtfully. The sun’s properly risen now, a blaze on the horizon in the rear-view mirror. Wordless, Will leans forward in his seat, snagging Nico’s sunglasses from the dash with a crook of his finger and passing them over.

“Why,” Nico asks, “you wanna see if we can find someone for you to tackle, next case?”

Will laughs. “Nah. I don’t think it’s my thing. I can’t imagine it ending well.” There’s silence for another moment. “Did you ever play football?” he asks Nico.

Nico huffs. “Pretty sure no one’s ever asked me that before. Do I look like I’ve ever played football?”

Will shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe? I was just thinking about tackling.”

“I definitely did not. Why, did you?” Will looks like he could have, Nico thinks, with those broad shoulders, a gratifying sturdiness to him.

Will hums. “Not really. Mostly just with my older brothers and my dad. I sucked though. I usually wound up getting heckled. Sent to the sidelines to keep score.”

Will says this lightly enough, but Nico thinks he can hear the hurt under the words. It takes him by surprise, the way it makes his heart ache. Unbidden, his mind conjures a young Will, freckle-faced, tousled curls. Left out and heartsick. It’s hard enough navigating those slights as an adult, Nico knows. As someone with agency and experience.

“I’m sure you weren’t that bad,” Nico offers, not sure what else to say, but wanting to say something.

“Oh no, I definitely was. I didn’t just acquire my clumsiness as an adult.” Will laughs, light and self-deprecating. He falls silent.

Something twinges. Nico casts his mind back over the last week, sifting through his own words and actions. There’s a prickle of guilt when he remembers. “Sorry, I –” Nico clears his throat. “Sorry for teasing you about your… card-shuffling skills,” he says gruffly.

Will laughs, surprised. “Oh. No, it’s okay. Honestly, I wasn’t thinking of that. I don’t blame you, anyway. It was funny.”

But still.

It’s such a small thing, but it feels important to repair. Nico’s quiet for a mile or so, trying to put words to what he wants to say. “Sometimes cops… FBI… it can be kind of an old boys’ club. Which I’m sure you’ve noticed,” Nico tries. It’s a sharp pull in his chest, torn between needing Will to know, and needing Will not to know him.

“It can…” Nico trails off. “In cultures like that there’s that teasing going on where it’s presented as everyone having a laugh together, but really, if you don’t appreciate being the target of a particular joke, there’s no recourse for that.”

Will nods like he sees where Nico’s going with this. “Right. Like schoolyard bullies, all grown up. Everyone else piling on whether they want to or not. Then if you can’t laugh it off, you’re a poor sport.” Will sighs. “Yeah. I felt like that sometimes, as a kid.”

“Like it’s your fault if your feelings get hurt, because you can’t take a joke, right? And it’s not…” Nico frowns, “it’s just not kind. It’s not respectful. I guess what I’m trying to say is that… I never intend to behave that way.”

His face is heating the way it does sometimes when he rambles on about something that’s not directly related to a case. Something too close to home. “So if I ever come across like that, it’s not – it’s never meant to be hurtful. It’s just because I have terrible people skills,” he laughs, thin, too exposed. He wishes for a moment that they were driving back home in the evening, safe under the cover of darkness. “I know I can’t just issue a preemptive blanket apology for whatever idiotic things I might say in the future, but…” he shrugs, out of words.

A furtive glance over at Will shows Nico that same look on his face, the one directed his way when Will discovered two pickles in with his lunch. A smile, soft. A bit more certain now than it was over a foil-wrapped sandwich. Nico’s not sure he understands it. It feels warm in a way he’s sure he doesn’t deserve.

“I know you’re not like that,” Will says, gentle. “I know you weren’t trying to be a jerk.”

“I can be a jerk sometimes,” Nico says, eager to move onto firmer ground, somewhere he’s not in danger of breaking open. “I’m just not that kind of a jerk.”

Will breathes out a laugh. “Good to know. Me either, I hope. I can be too sensitive, I’ve been told.” He gazes out the windshield for a moment. “Maybe we’re the softer side of the FBI.” A quick half-smile twitched towards Nico.

Nico huffs. “That sounds about right.”

“Sam and Magnus too, I think,” Will adds. “I liked working with them.”

Nico nods. “Definitely. Me too. They’re good people.”

Will takes a deep breath, stretching, then reclining his seat by a few inches. There’s a lane closed up ahead, and Nico maneuvers around the barricade, slowing his speed. Neither of them speaks again until they’re past the construction zone and Nico nudges the car back up to speed.

“I was so relieved when you showed up,” Will says suddenly.

“Hmm? When?” Nico’s gaze flicks to the right where Will is systematically dissembling his empty styrofoam coffee cup, tearing off bits of the rim and dropping them inside.

“Last week, I mean.” Will scrunches up his nose. “When you drove out here from DC. I did that autopsy and then… suddenly things weren’t adding up. I felt like I was in way over my head.”

Nico considers this.

“You had it handled though, Will. You knew what to do. You took the lead as soon as I got here, and you saw it right through to the end. They wouldn’t have caught Marcus as quickly if it hadn’t been for you. He would have killed more people.”

Will still looks unsure. “Maybe,” he says after a moment.

“Not maybe,” Nico says, more vehement than he intended. He feels a little sweaty, off-balance.

Is this just how it’s going to be, with Will? Are they going to end every second case with Nico feeling as if he’s had all his internal organs extracted and gently squeezed a few times before they’re set back in place? The stupidest part is that the whole process isn’t nearly as painful as Nico would have expected.

It’s not exactly comfortable. But it’s not bad.

Nico swallows. “Anyway. You weren’t supposed to handle it all on your own. That’s what… that’s what teams are for, and partners. That’s why they pair us up.”

“You’ve been handling it on your own, though,” Will points out. “Isn’t that exactly what you were doing before I got here?”

Nico shrugs, eyes on the road, far too aware of the little space in the car, his heart throbbing in his chest.

He supposes he can contribute one more thing to this heart-to-heart before changing the subject. He hasn’t harassed Will nearly enough for his musical selections on this trip, for instance.

Nico clears his throat. “Yeah. But maybe… maybe I shouldn’t have been.”

December 1998

“This looks interesting. What are you working on?” Nico leans over the coffee table to get a better look at the papers Hazel’s got laid out in piles. It’s late Sunday afternoon and they’ve just finished dissecting Nico’s latest case.

“It is interesting.” Hazel reaches for her laptop. “I’ve been trying to hack into the Zoion Labs database. Last night I almost breached their mainframe. So close. I got booted out at the last second.” She shakes her head sadly. “Frank’s been putting in long hours checking in on their government contacts. We’re pretty sure there’s a story there. We just haven’t quite figured out what it is yet.”

Nico scootches closer to his sister as she pulls up a file. Hazel’s tried to teach him some elementary coding over the years, giving him at least a rudimentary understanding of the document she’s brought up on the screen. She leans back, giving him a chance to make sense of her work. Just then, Nico’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He fishes it out, glancing at the call display.

“Sorry, I need to take this,” he murmurs, jumping up with the phone to his ear. “Hey, thought you said you were taking the whole weekend off.” There’s a pause and then Nico laughs, loud. “I should have sent you straight to voicemail,” he says, his voice light and teasing.

Hazel blinks. There’s more laughter as Nico paces down the back hallway. He’s too far away for her to hear what he’s saying now, but his manner is so unexpected that it stops her in her tracks. Frank appears from the hallway a moment later, a confused expression on his face that Hazel thinks probably mirrors her own.

“Who’s he talking to?” Frank asks when he’s close enough not to be overheard.

Hazel shakes her head. “I have no idea.”

“Is he… seeing someone?” Frank asks. Because yes, that’s exactly what it sounds like.

“I – he hasn’t mentioned anyone.”

Frank sits down in the armchair with his own laptop and they share a glance, giggling. Hazel turns back to her own work, but half her mind is buzzing with questions she’s going to ask Nico the second he returns. The trick, she knows, is not to be too obvious.

Nico’s back a few minutes later, dropping onto the couch again, a half-smile lingering on his face.

Hazel clears her throat and glances over at Frank, who hides his face behind his computer.

“Everything okay?” Hazel asks her brother lightly. She notices Frank roll his eyes in her periphery, a smile tugging at his lips. He clearly knows she’s rather violently holding herself back.

Nico glances up. “Yeah. Why?”

“Just… seemed like an important phone call,” Hazel offers.

Nico shrugs. “Just work stuff.”

“Was it Reyna?” Frank asks and Hazel turns to beam at her boyfriend. Usually he prefers not to get involved in such discussions. She appreciates his support during this difficult time. Frank shakes his head, avoiding her gaze and grinning behind his screen.

Nico laughs, short. “No. Not Reyna.”

“And everything’s okay with Reyna?” Hazel cuts in, unable to help herself. Inquiring minds want to know, okay?

Nico frowns, blinking at his sister. “I think so?”

“Okay, that’s… good to hear,” Hazel says, a little desperate.

Nico tilts his head, clearly lost. He turns and grabs a sheet of paper from the coffee table, scans it for a moment and then holds it out to his sister. “Is this the company you mentioned earlier? Because I think they were involved in a case I was looking into last year.”

Hazel ignores the paper in favor of gazing at her brother, beginning to lose patience.

“What,” Nico asks, bewildered. “Why are you acting weird?”

Frank sighs, stretching out long legs to prop them on the coffee table. “Hazel wants to know who you were talking to,”

Nico blinks. “What, on the phone?”

“Yes, on the phone!” Hazel throws her hands up, exasperated.

“It was just Will – my partner. At work. I told you about him, right?” Nico asks, confused. “The forensic pathologist? The one they assigned to work with me a few months back?”

“Oh. That was Will?”

“Yeah, that was Will.”

“Huh. Interesting,” Hazel says, turning back to her laptop. Frank snorts.

“Okay, what is going on?” Nico laughs, tossing the papers he’d been holding down on the couch next to him.

“Nothing, nothing,” Hazel says breezily, clicking through a document. “Will is a… platonic partner?”

“Hazel, I just said, we work together.”

Hazel finally abandons all pretense. “And that’s all? Because it really sounded like something more than that.”

“What?” Nico laughs. “That’s what all this weirdness is about?” He waves his arms in their general vicinity. “He’s – we work together. He’s my partner. At work. Why would you think – we were talking about work.” Nico’s voice starts to go a bit squeaky, which Hazel privately thinks isn’t really helping his case.

“Work,” Hazel says. “On a Sunday?”

“He had some ideas about a case we were discussing on Friday afternoon. And he just called to get my opinion,” Nico says, defensive.

Hazel continues to gaze at her brother.

“What?” Nico asks again, louder.

“Nothing.” Hazel turns back to her screen.

Nico blinks at her for a moment. “Okay. Fine. Nothing. It is nothing. Tell me more about Zoion. I think I might be able to help. How did you guys first hear about–”

“It really didn’t sound platonic,” Hazel interrupts.

“Well it is,” Nico says, now sounding annoyed.

“Is he cute?” Frank asks unexpectedly from his spot in the corner. Hazel giggles.

And shockingly, like a gift from above, Nico goes completely red. Hazel’s eyes go wide with glee.

“Shut up,” Nico mutters to Hazel when she beams at him. There’s silence for a moment and then Nico groans, throwing himself back against the couch and scrubbing his hands over his face. “Shut up,” he says again when the silence in the room continues.

“Sorry,” Hazel laughs, reaching out to squeeze her brother’s knee. “Sorry for teasing. And prying.”

Nico sighs, his posture softening a bit.

“It’s just that your whole demeanor changed when you started talking to him,” Hazel says gently. “It just surprised us. You sounded really happy. Even Frank noticed.”

“Hey!” protests Frank.

Hazel shrugs. “Sorry, sweetie. You’re just not usually as in tune with that sort of thing.”

Frank looks pensive for a moment then shrugs, conceding.

Nico lets out a long breath. “Thanks for your concern,” he says. “And yeah, we get along really well. Better than I was expecting. But there’s nothing else going on. Okay?”

(chapter 4 here)

Notes:

1. Thanks as always to @rosyredlipstick for the beta! 2. The best thing about posting a chapter is I CAN FINALLY STOP EDITING IT 3. BWAHAHAHAHA 4. As much as I do love writing, I cannot deny that comments are incredibly motivating and I cherish each one 5. Sorry for any medical inaccuracies. I did my best. 6. vampires are up next!

#my writing #x-files au #solangelo #nico di angelo #will solace #reyna ramirez-arellano #casefic #conservatively rated teen for now #alternate universe - fbi #magnus chase #samirah al-abbas

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2nd2ndalto · 2 months ago

Text

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

(Chapter 4 here)

Chapter 5

March 1999

“Got your mail,” Will announces as he comes back into the office. He falters at the edge of Nico’s desk, trying and failing to see a single square inch of available space on which to drop said mail - a handful of memos, photocopied reports and interdepartmental envelopes.

Nico straightens from the newspaper he’s been poring over, immediately registering Will’s dilemma.

“Oh, thanks, I can –” Nico accepts the little bundle of papers from Will and automatically looks around for somewhere to set it down, reaching the exact same conclusion Will did a second earlier. Will laughs.

Nico slumps, defeated, still holding the mail in a loose grip.

Will plucks the envelopes from his hand. “Here, I’ll put them…” Will glances around, finding almost every other surface cluttered with papers, books and files.

Nico sighs, dejected. “It’s a lost cause.”

“I can go put them back in your slot in the mail room,” Will offers, only half-kidding.

“No, I’ll just –” Nico takes the papers back again, opening three crammed-full drawers in his desk before finding one with room to stuff the mail on top and shutting it with a satisfied nod.

“Much better,” Will says. He moves to his own, mostly-clear desk and begins to flip through the items he’s retrieved from his own mailbox. Nothing too interesting. Copies of authorized expense reports, a reminder that he’s due to renew some sort of workplace safety training that he doesn’t even remember completing the first time around. He pauses, eyes skimming over a glossy flier.

“You think we should do the workplace communication training workshop?” Will says contemplatively. He glances over to Nico, who looks predictably appalled.

“No,” Nico answers.

Will grins. “Aw, c’mon. Don’t you want to learn to communicate more effectively with me?”

Nico gives him a withering look. “Solace, if we communicate any more effectively, they’ll make us teach the class ourselves. And neither of us want that.

Will attempts not to look too outwardly pleased at this. “Good point,” he agrees, solemn. “We don’t want to peak too soon. Or like, get promoted against our will.”

Nico lets out a laugh. “Definitely not. I kind of like it down here.” He shoots Will a smile, a real one. Will winks. Nico huffs and turns back to his paper.

Will sets the flier aside, unfurling the red string of an interoffice envelope. He squints at his name, misspelled and scrawled messily underneath two dozen others, before pulling a single sheet of paper from the envelope, folded in half. It’s nice paper, embossed. Thicker than the stuff he and Nico are allotted to print letters on. Will makes a face, scanning over the page. “What kind of a name is Octavian?”

Nico’s head jerks up from his newspaper.

“Sorry,” Will shakes his head. “That wasn’t very nice, was it? I’m sure he’s lovely.”

“He’s not,” Nico says acidly. “What does he want?”

Will blinks, surprised at the sudden vitriol in his partner’s voice. “It doesn’t say. I’ve never even heard of this guy.” Will peers at the letterhead, then the interdepartmental envelope, trying to ascertain where the letter originated from. “He wants to meet with me tomorrow. Why wouldn’t he call, or send an email? What if I hadn’t even checked my mail today?”

Nico scowls. “That’s Octavian.”

“He’s the… associate deputy director?” Will reads from under the signature at the bottom of the letter.

“Yeah,” Nico says, tired. “He’s Reyna’s boss.”

“Wonder what I did to deserve a meeting,” Will says, his stomach lurching unpleasantly. He reads through the letter again, but there’s absolutely nothing to indicate what the meeting might be for. It feels ominous.

Nico grimaces. “Nothing, most likely. He’s – Octavian doesn’t like me. Or the X-Files. I’m actually surprised his name hasn’t come up before. When I’ve mentioned fighting for the department to keep its funding – that’s all on Octavian. He’s always looking for some excuse to shut me down. To be honest, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was looking for you to snitch on me.”

Will scoffs, disgusted. “Well, that’s not going to happen.”

“No?”

“Of course not!” Will says, aghast. “I would never. What would I even snitch about, if I wanted to? That you put in extra hours you don’t claim in your paysheet? That you do research into cases on your own time? Besides, we’re partners, Nico. You’re my friend.”

Nico looks a bit shaken by this declaration, and Will turns back to his desk, giving the other man a moment.

“What happens in the basement stays in the basement,” Will announces with finality, flipping through the rest of his mail. Nico laughs.

Nico’s in the office a full hour early the next morning, pacing, his stomach in knots. He’d tried to brush off Octavian’s letter, and done a pretty good job of it for most of yesterday. But it had started to weigh on him by the evening, alone in his apartment. By the time he’d gone to bed, the thought of Will’s looming meeting had taken up a heavy, unpleasant occupancy in his gut.

First, there’d been the niggling worry that Octavian was looking for dirt on Nico. But even if Will would have indulged that, which he’d made quite clear he wouldn’t, Nico’s not really worried about his work or his methods being scrutinized. He’s proud of the cases they’ve worked, maybe even more so in the last six months. Sure, they haven’t solved every case in its entirety, they haven’t locked up every perpetrator, but they’ve been careful and thorough. They’ve helped people. The case in Fairbrook was a standout, certainly, and it’s gotten a lot of attention, both from the Bureau and the media. Surely that will help his case, if he needs to have one.

So there have been those worries - small and persistent, really nothing new. The X-Files has been in perpetual danger of losing its funding ever since Nico first descended into the basement. But what’s truly had his insides twisting since last night is the unwelcome worry that perhaps this meeting means that he’s losing Will.

There’s no denying that Will’s an excellent agent, and he did amazing work in Fairbrook. What if the Bureau wants to reassign him somewhere they think he’ll be more useful? What if Will wants to be somewhere where he’ll be more useful?

Nico works alone. He always has. Sure, there have been other agents assigned to work with him here and there, and it’s been fine. Nothing special, but fine.

But Will... Will is a partner, in a way Nico hadn’t even considered possible. Nico doesn’t want Will to leave. He’d arrived at this realization with complete, crashing clarity at three am just as he was finally about to drift off to sleep. The rest of the night had mostly been a write-off.

How did this happen? This was not part of the plan when Will came to work down here. Work, sure. They could work together. With a very few notable exceptions, Nico gets along decently with his colleagues. He can be a team player when the situation requires it.

But just when exactly did Will worm his way under Nico's skin the way he has? The way that makes it feel like there's a tangibly empty space in the office when Will leaves early for a dentist appointment, or gets pulled into another department for an afternoon? The way Nico glances over to Will automatically, reflexively seeking his agreement, his input. The way it settles him when he receives it.

The way his stupid heart swells when Will laughs at his jokes, loud and bright, his lingering fond smile.

Fuck.

And now – what if all that gets snatched away? What if that's even what Will wants? Sure, Will seems to enjoy Nico's company, but really (as Nico realized as he entered that particularly devastating train of thought around four am) Will seems to enjoy everyone's company. It's not as though there's anything special about Nico, no reason for Will to want to stay here of all places. Here, in the basement, the armpit of the FBI. Here, hanging out with the one little weirdo no one else takes seriously.

Will's just so damn easy to get along with, so fucking pleasant to have around. So much more curious and open-minded than Nico ever would have expected. He's smart and funny and... tall and... okay, Nico supposes he can admit it – it doesn't hurt that he's really attractive.

Fuck. Fuck.

Having completed probably a dozen laps of the office (not easy, thank you, there’s not exactly a clear path around the perimeter), Nico drops heavily into his chair then drops his head into his hands. He's an existential, underslept mess, in no way prepared for Will's early arrival when the office door opens mere seconds later.

Will beams at the sight of Nico, sitting there like a disheveled, pathetic pile of desperation, and how the fuck is that fair?

Nico clears his throat, forcing himself to sit up straighter. "You're early," he says. The words come out sounding far more accusatory than he intended.

"Yeah." Will's face falls a little. "Sorry?"

"No, no," Nico says immediately. "I'm – just ignore me. I didn't get much sleep."

Will's brow creases in sympathy. "Sorry to hear that."

Nico watches with a sinking heart as Will pulls off his coat and hangs it by the door, ruffling a hand through his hair and brushing water droplets off his bag. What if this is their last morning in this office together? What if this is the last time he watches Will hang his coat, cross the office and drop into his chair? Every little motion is so familiar now, so much a part of his morning. How did he never think to properly appreciate it before?

Will turns once he's seated, regarding Nico with a little more scrutiny than Nico had been prepared for, and Nico immediately attempts to look completely sane and cool. Like the sort of person who wouldn't miss his partner at all, were that partner to be reassigned.

Will doesn't look as if he's fooled, which is concerning in itself.

"Should we go grab coffee?" Will asks, worried. "Have you eaten?"

Nico nods, grateful for the distraction. "Definitely yes to coffee and no, I haven't eaten." He stands from his desk. "Dunkin’?"

Will makes a face. "It started pouring right after I got off the train. I ran all the way here with my bag over my head. I don't suppose you have an umbrella?"

Nico does not, so the cafeteria it is, then. On days when they’re feeling particularly motivated, they'll take the stairs up to the eighth floor, but god, it's early and Nico feels like shit, and Will seems to understand this without Nico needing to explain. Will leads them to the single elevator that descends to the basement level.

The elevator gets progressively stuffier and more crowded as it rises through the building, and Nico gets progressively more twitchy and irritable. By the sixth floor, there's barely room to breathe, and he and Will are trapped in the back corner together, a wall of suits and briefcases forming a barricade of claustrophobia in front of them.

Will glances down at Nico, then bumps their shoulders together, once, then harder, teasingly shuffling over inch by inch until Nico's smushed against the wall, Will grinning and Nico trying valiantly to maintain his scowl in the face of this unasked-for amusement.

Ten minutes later they're settled at a table with a view of the rooftop garden, Nico gazing out the windows at the puddles collecting on the pebbled cement outside and picking at a bran muffin. Across the table, Will checks his watch.

"What time's your meeting?" Nico asks. As if he doesn’t know. As if he’s spent more than a few minutes not thinking about it in the last eighteen hours.

Will lets out a breath. "In an hour."

"Oh –"

"Yeah." Will makes a face. "He emailed me last night to move it earlier. Not sure why he couldn't have just emailed in the first place."

That's not such a bad thing, Nico supposes, as his stomach gives a violent lurch. At least they'll know soon, one way or another.

"Guess he didn't say what he wanted to meet about in the email," Nico says, trying to sound as though this is only of minimal concern to him.

Will shakes his head. "Nope. Just hope I'm not about to get fired." He lets out a nervous laugh and Nico glances up, surprised.

"Why would you think that?"

Will shrugs. "I don't know. It's all a little weird and mysterious, isn't it? Maybe I made some horrible mistake and didn't realize."

"You definitely didn't. If anything, I'd think he'd – well. Just, hypothetically... what if they offered you a promotion?"

Will laughs, surprised. "What would – that doesn't make any sense. I'm brand new. I barely know what I'm doing yet."

Nico scoffs. "That's ridiculous. You do know that, right? The Robert Marcus case – that was basically all your doing. And the whole Bureau's been talking about it."

Will blinks. "I mean – that was a group effort, though."

Nico averts his eyes, gazing into his coffee. The coffee here is decent, at least. Thick and strong. The ceramic cups are small, but heavy, a pleasing weight to them. The bran muffins leave a lot to be desired. Although Nico's not sure if he could enjoy eating anything at this exact moment.

"What – what would you think? If they did offer you a promotion?" Nico asks, his heart throbbing in his chest, staring desperately into the depths of his coffee.

"Do you really think that's what this is about?" Will sounds incredibly skeptical. Which is kind of hilarious, Nico thinks. Will, the skeptical partner, whose deadliest skepticism is directed at his own abilities.

"Wait," Will says, taking in Nico’s expression. "Are you – are you worried that I'll be promoted?"

And okay, that's uncalled for. Nico is frankly offended. Nico is supposed to be the psychological profiler here, thank you very much.

Nico shrugs. He chances a glance at Will, who's gazing out into the rain, brow furrowed. Probably considering all the other floors he could be working on that aren't the basement. All the other agents he could be working with who aren't weird and grouchy. And short. Take Magnus, for instance. Magnus is tall, and he’s almost always in a good mood. That fucker.

Will's gaze finally flicks from the window back to Nico, something tentative there. "I don't think there's any other job I'd rather do at the Bureau," he says slowly, as if he's only just realizing it himself. "I feel like I really lucked into something, being assigned to this department, you know?” Will’s blue eyes are clear, and Nico's stomach seems to settle back towards its regular location. “The work we’ve been doing together – it’s fascinating. And it feels worthwhile. Like we’re making a difference. I think it’s something I think I could learn to be really good at. I’d like to. And I mean." Will swallows. "I think you already know that I enjoy working with you," he finishes, timid.

Nico can feel his cheeks warming. Stupid cheeks. "Yeah," he mutters, turning his coffee cup in his hands. "I mean... me too."

"You like working with me, or you like working with you?" Will asks, suddenly wide-eyed and dead serious.

Nico scowls. "Fuck off."

Will laughs.

"I like working with you, okay?" Nico says, pained.

Will's fully grinning at him now, the full, devastating one hundred watts.

"And you know. You did just save me from death by exsanguination, so it's probably in my best interests to keep you around," Nico says, as grudgingly as he can manage.

Their conversation in the cafeteria is heartening, but Nico's still a grouchy ball of nerves almost an hour later as he watches the clock in the basement office tick down, the time of Will's meeting looming closer and closer. With fifteen minutes to go, he can't take it anymore and he stands abruptly, throwing his jacket over the back of his chair. He crosses to a cabinet in the corner and pulls out a bag, little-used, slinging it over his shoulder.

Will blinks up at him from where he's cross-legged on the dusty floor in front of a filing cabinet, digging through the bottom drawer. "Are you running away from home?"

Nico rolls his eyes. "I'm going to go to the gym."

Will's eyebrows rise. "The gym? Oh. Okay."

"You don't have to sound so surprised," Nico mutters, "I go to the gym."

“No, obviously you do, I mean…” Will suddenly goes pink and flustered, his gaze somewhere around Nico’s chest, and Nico’s brow furrows in confusion, glancing down to make sure he hasn’t spilled something on himself.

Will clears his throat. “It’s just that I’ve never seen you go to the gym. Here.”

They gaze at each other for a long moment. Will’s pink cheeks make his eyes look bluer. Brighter.

“Well,” Nico says, bemused. “I guess it’s been a while. And hey,” he adds as he reaches the office door, as if it’s nothing but an afterthought, “good luck with your meeting.”

Will smiles from where he’s still seated on the floor, looking nervous. “Thanks.”

Nico’s workout doesn’t last long. Mid-morning is apparently a popular time to use the Bureau gym, and Nico can’t bear the thought of making small talk with any of his colleagues at the moment. He lasts about half an hour, weights and some half-assed cardio before he hits the showers, washing up quickly before heading back downstairs, hair still damp.

Maybe he’ll have some time to collect himself before Will reappears. Maybe he should have done some yoga. That's supposed to be relaxing, right? Frank showed him some poses once. He doesn't think he can remember any of them except the one where you lie flat on your back.

Nico does actually manage to distract himself by reading through a file for a few minutes before he hears the heavy slam of the fire door at the stairwell, letting him know that someone’s reached the basement level.

Nico watches the office door, breath caught in his chest. He only has seconds to wait.

“What a fucking asshole,” Will announces, the office door slamming shut behind him. “What the actual fuck.”

Will’s face is flushed. He pulls off his jacket, the motion jerky, tossing it on top of his coat on the rack by the door. It falls to the floor. Will takes a deep breath, hands on his hips before retrieving it and shoving the jacket more violently at the coat rack. Nico thinks he’s actually shaking.

“What happened?”

“You were right.” Will throws up his hands, disbelieving. “He wanted me to fucking snitch on you! He started asking me all these inane questions, like whether your methods made me feel unsafe.” Will rolls his eyes, gloriously. “All these fucking pointed questions about our protocol for initiating cases and –” Will lets out a huff of frustration. “I obviously wasn’t answering the way he wanted me to, and he just got… more and more infuriating.”

Will sits on the edge of his desk, then immediately stands again, shoving a hand roughly through his hair.

“That fucking anemic loser,” he seethes. “The absolute nerve. I can’t even –” Will shakes his head, lost for words.

Nico watches him for a long moment, now torn between worry and admiration. “And so what did you – what did you tell him?”

“I told him you were a brilliant agent, one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, and that the FBI was lucky to have you!” Will says, his voice rising.

Nico's throat goes tight.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t actually yell at him.” Will huffs out a laugh. “I didn’t think you’d appreciate that.”

Nico feels as if he’s been hit over the head with something very heavy. “Well. I might have. A bit. I sure would have enjoyed watching it.”

Will smiles, finally. His eyes are bright, cheeks pink. He’s radiant like this. Like some kind of avenging angel, or a Greek god.

“Thank you,” Nico manages. “For defending me.”

Will shakes his head, frowning. “I just told him the truth.”

“So he’s not – he didn’t threaten to pull our funding or, I don’t know. Assign us both to Agricultural Corruption?”

Will barks out a laugh. “No.” He lowers himself to the edge of his desk again, aggressively scrubbing a hand over his face. “He made some noise about irregular procedures and untenable evidence.” Will throws up one hand in a half-hearted air quote. “But honestly it seemed like he was just grasping at straws by that point. He kept bringing up specific instances of when seemed to think we weren’t following protocol - he had a fucking list – and I just very patiently explained all the ways he was wrong.”

Nico laughs. Octavian’s got to be absolutely seething right now, and that’s a pretty great feeling. As if that wasn’t enough good news, it doesn’t sound as if Will’s going anywhere. Nico suddenly feels about twenty pounds lighter.

“Seriously, what an absolute dick,” Will says. “What the fuck is that guy’s problem?”

Nico shrugs. “He’s one of those guys who always wants to be at the top of the heap. Even as far as he’s climbed the corporate ladder here at the Bureau, it doesn’t seem to have made him any happier. It’s not enough for him to be at the top. He needs everyone else to know they’re at the bottom, too.”

“I can’t stand guys like that.” Will scowls. “He did commend us on the Fairbrook case, though he didn’t seem happy about it. Told me I was a valuable asset but he sounded like he meant the exact opposite. I made sure he knew that without your timely research resources, Marcus would still probably be murdering diabetics.”

Will stands again. “You know, I think I need to walk this off. I’m kind of a wreck right now. I managed to hold it together while I was talking to him, but I feel like my blood pressure’s through the roof.”

“Isn’t it still raining?” Nico asks.

“I don’t think I care," Will laughs, shoving a hand through his hair again. The violence he’s perpetrated on it in the last few minutes combined with the humidity of the day makes it stand out like a messy halo around his head. It’s glorious. "I can’t believe I put on my best suit for that idiot.”

"Well, you look..." Nico swallows. Amazing. Gorgeous. Breathtaking. God, why the fuck did he start this sentence? The longer Nico's lost for words, the more Will's smile grows, and when Nico finally manages, "very professional," Will grins, wide.

"Aww, thanks."

Nico rolls his eyes as hard as he can.

"Do you want company?" Nico asks, as he watches Will pull his coat back on. He immediately curses his lack of filter. "It's fine if you don't." Will’s jacket falls from the coat rack again and Will kicks it aggressively into the corner.

But Will only says, "of course I want your company.”

"What if it's still raining, though?" Will asks as they head to the stairwell. "You don't like getting wet."

"I guess I can make an exception," Nico mutters, because that sounds a lot more sane than, now that I know you're staying, I kind of don't want to let you out of my sight.

Will steps back neatly, holding the door open for Nico with a little bow when they reach the ground floor. "You know, for someone who doesn't like rain, you'd think you'd keep an umbrella around," he muses, eyes sparkling.

"Yeah, well. I'm an enigma wrapped in a mystery," Nico mutters, and Will’s bright laughter is worth any potential rain.

The rain is more of a drizzly mist by the time they make it out onto Pennsylvania Avenue, and they walk in companionable quiet in the general direction of the sculpture garden, Will looking a bit more settled the longer they walk. It settles Nico, too.

His mind drifts back over the last six months, still a bit baffled that this has become what it has, and so easily. A partnership. A friendship. Will had said, of course I want your company like it was nothing, implicit.

And Nico suddenly remembers his worries, in the first few months Will was here. That he wouldn't be able to keep Will at arm's length, that he had to make sure not to let Will in, not to let Will know him. As they wait at the back of a crowd of tourists for the lights to change at Constitution Avenue, Will's shoulder bumps gently into his, and Will smiles and Nico realizes it's far, far too late for that.

The realization doesn't hit him like a truck, not like last night, when he desperately wanted to sleep. Instead, the knowledge settles over him gently, like the misty rain, like the half-memory of a mostly-inconsequential task that he neglected to complete.

Well, damn.

Still March 1999

Nico, having returned from the continental breakfast buffet, hands over a coffee and muffin. Will accepts both gratefully from where he’s seated cross-legged on his bed. Nico’s footsteps falter on the way across the hotel room. “You smell… fruity,” he comments, then immediately looks embarrassed.

Will grins. “Well,” he shrugs. “I am, a little.”

Nico huffs, settling himself onto his own bed, newspaper spread out in front of him.

“It’s probably my shampoo,” Will realizes. “It’s Dewberry, from the Body Shop. Kayla got a big gift basket for her birthday, but she didn’t like the scent. I like it, though. So you’ll have to put up with me smelling fruity for the foreseeable future.” He tilts his head in Nico’s general direction, ruffling his still-damp hair.

Nico rolls his eyes. Then, a moment later – “It could be worse,” he mutters.

Will hides a smile, turning back to his own work. If he’s forced to tolerate Nico’s arms in that devastatingly tight Ramones t-shirt every time they share a room, Nico can put up with Will’s fruity-smelling hair, Will thinks ruefully.

They’re sharing a room on this particular trip because Reyna insisted on it; Will’s been called here to conduct a couple of autopsies, Nico tagging along because he’d read about reports of possible UFO sightings in the area. They’re both a little disappointed with yesterday’s conclusions – neither of the autopsies revealed anything indicating foul play, and Nico’s UFOs turned out to be drunk teenagers with laser pointers.

Sharing a room isn’t a hardship, anyway. They’ve done it on cases more often than not in the weeks since their visit to St. Ambrose, Ramones t-shirt notwithstanding. The couple of occasions they’ve booked separate rooms, they’ve wound up watching TV and chatting until late in the evening anyway, WIll often dozing off in Nico’s room.

Nico folds up the newspaper, leaning back on his hands and gazing towards the window. It’s still pouring out. The rain began just as they pulled off the interstate yesterday afternoon and it hasn’t stopped since. Neither of them had thought to bring an umbrella, and they’ve been sprinting from building to car to building attempting to shield themselves with briefcases and newspapers.

“It’s still fucking raining,” Nico grumbles. “I hate getting wet.”

“Because you’re made of sugar,” Will says vaguely, glancing over his report.

Nico snorts. “I’m what?”

Will glances up, grinning. Nico’s gone a bit pink.

“Because you’re made of sugar. It’s what my mom says. You know. Because if you were made of sugar, you’d melt. In the rain.”

Nico scowls, clearly trying not to look amused. “If anyone’s made of sugar, it’s you,” he mutters. “I’ve seen what you call breakfast.”

Will laughs. He refuses to feel any guilt over his penchant for pastries. “Are you calling me sweet?”

Nico rolls his eyes. “You wish.”

Will grins wider, flopping back onto the bed for a long stretch. He doesn’t miss the way Nico’s eyes flit to his waist, where his shirt rides up. The reflexive flip-flop in his own stomach is already expected, familiar. He’d pulled on sweats and a t-shirt after his shower, knowing they likely wouldn’t leave the room for a couple of hours and not quite ready to face getting properly dressed.

Will rolls to his side, tugging his shirt back into place and propping himself up on an elbow. Nico regards him, looking a bit exasperated. But that’s become familiar, too.

“So you don’t want to head out yet then?” Will asks.

Nico glances back to the window. “Eh. It’s still early. We could wait a bit, see if it eases up. I’m not crazy about driving in this.”

“Sure,” Will says easily. “I think I’m done my report. You wanna watch TV?”

Nico makes a face. “It’s all gonna be morning news right now. I’d be happy to never hear another word about the fucking Clintons.”

Will nods, in complete agreement. “Animal Planet?”

Nico huffs, then – “Oh, actually…” He hops up from the bed, grabbing his overnight bag from the floor and retrieving something small from a side pocket.

He tosses the item to Will, who of course, fumbles it. It lands on the bed though, and Will’s eyes go wide. He feels his face heating, fast. “Um,” he says.

“Oh,” Nico laughs, almost giggles. Will glances up, astonished.

“I should have explained –” Nico begins, red-faced himself, then laughs harder as he takes in Will’s expression. Will doesn’t think he’s ever seen Nico laugh so hard, and the sight makes him feel almost unbearably fond. He’d be able to enjoy it so much more if it weren’t for the accompanying and distracting feelings of shock, and confusion, because –

Nico leans over the bed, grabbing the pack of very clearly x-rated playing cards from Will’s limp hand.

“They were a gift,” he says, still very much red in the face, still laughing. “A stupid – I don’t know, it was one of those stupid blind gift exchanges. Secret Santa, or something. And – they’re the only playing cards I have, and I thought I could try teaching you to shuffle again next time we were on an overnight, but I didn’t really think about –”

“Oh,” Will laughs, the pieces finally fitting together. “Oh. Yeah. A little warning might have been nice.”

They gaze at each other in silence for a moment before bursting into simultaneous laughter.

“Sorry,” Nico laughs, “just – the look on your face.”

Will shakes his head, scrubbing hands over his very warm face. “Fine,” he laughs, “Fine. Let’s shuffle.”

He heads to the table, and Nico follows. It’s sweet, Will realizes, a shot of warmth to his chest as the shock fades. It’s sweet that Nico remembered this, that he wanted to give Will another chance. Will splits the deck, snorting when even more explicit scenes are revealed.

“Jesus, Nico,” he laughs. “I don’t know if I can – where do you even get – it’s just so many naked men.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Nico agrees, peering over. “To be honest, I hadn’t actually opened them.” Nico grabs the top card from the deck and surveys it critically, eyes dancing. “Are you saying this gentleman isn’t your type?” He flips the card to show it to Will, who inspects it for a moment, lip caught between his teeth, trying not to laugh.

“I don’t know. He’s awfully… oily.”

Nico nods, trying to compose himself. “True, true. He looks like he could use a good shower. He flips to the next card. His brows shoot up. “Oh, look. These three are having a shower.”

Will shakes his head, letting out a giggle. “I don’t see a lot of showering going on there. That’s a waste of perfectly good hot water, is what that is.”

Will makes a few half-hearted attempts at shuffling, but it soon devolves into commentary on the scenes depicted on the cards, Nico laughing loudly as Will deems certain situations “physiologically improbable” and “highly inadvisable.” Will’s not sure if he’s ever been so pleased with himself for making someone laugh before. There’s something about seeing Nico so uninhibited that makes him feel about ten feet tall. His stomach aches from laughing when Nico finally slides the cards back into the box.

“Oops,” Will says, snatching up a card that’s fallen to the floor. “You missed these guys.”

Nico’s mouth twitches as he surveys the card, seven of hearts. “What do you think, workplace safety violation?” he asks, turning the card to Will.

Will leans closer. “Definitely. Although… they are wearing hard hats.

Nico shakes his head, slotting the card in and closing the box. “Should I leave them in the desk for the next people to find?”

Will considers. “Maybe not. Imagine if someone’s kid opened the drawer, and –”

“Oh god.”

Half an hour later the rain isn’t splattering quite so hard against the windows, and they decide to make a break for it while they can. Nico makes one final sweep of the room while Will kneels at the door, tying his shoes.

“Oh hey, you forgot your glasses,” Nico says, snagging them from the corner of the nightstand where Will had left them last night.

“Oh shit, thanks.”

Nico raises an eyebrow, settling the glasses on his own face as he returns to the door.

Will feigns annoyance although Nico, of course, looks adorable in the glass. Will plucks them off Nico’s face when his partner is close enough. He folds them, slipping them into the pocket of his blazer. When he glances back up, Nico’s brow is furrowed, his eyes on the pocket where the glasses disappeared to, and Will feels a twinge of discomfort.

“What?”

“That – that’s a really strong prescription,” Nico says slowly. “You don’t usually wear contacts, do you?”

And Nico likely already knows the answer to that, considering their hotel-room proximity in the last month, both of their possessions spilled over bathroom counters and hotel room beds and floors, Will’s socks occasionally ending up in Nico’s laundry and vice versa.

Will groans inwardly. Instead of answering immediately, he opens the door, heading down the hall towards the elevator. Nico’s quiet, but as the elevator descends, he’s still watching Will with something like curiosity, or concern.

“I don’t like wearing contacts,” Will says, finally, as they reach the main floor.

“But you don’t like glasses either? I almost never see you wearing them.”

Will grimaces. “I – I know it’s stupid. Or vain, or whatever. I just don’t like the way they look.”

Nico regards him seriously as they take their place at the end of the line to check out. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Will rolls his eyes, batting Nico’s hand away.

They make one more stop at the continental breakfast after checkout, one last coffee for the road. Nico shifts so Will can fill his cup, securing the lid on his own coffee.

“So am I just like, kind of blurry to you all the time?” Nico asks, still teasing. “How do you manage to pick me out in a crowd?”

“I just look for the grumpiest short guy wearing a tie,” Will shoots back, unthinking, then – “sorry,” he says, because the words sound meaner than he intended, and something like hurt flickers over Nico’s face, But Nico’s shaking his head. “No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have –”

“Kids teased me,” Will says flatly, because suddenly, unfortunately, it’s become a thing he needs to explain. “I know that’s stupid and I’m an adult and I should be over it, but…” he shrugs.

“No, I get that,” Nico says, softer.

“You’re not really that grumpy,” Will feels the need to say as they head for the front doors.

Nico huffs out a laugh. “It’s okay, Solace.”

The rain has eased a bit more now, and the two men jog across the parking lot in the misty drizzle.

Will’s given up on looking presentable at this point. He’s past due for a haircut, his curls have gone rogue in the humidity, and he doesn’t mind getting a little damp when all he’s got ahead of him is a two-hour drive. It’s clear that his partner doesn’t feel the same, but Nico flatly refuses Will’s offer to bring the car around and pick him up at the door.

Much to Nico’s dismay, the CD player is on the fritz in their fleet car. After his third attempt to get the player to accept Road to Ruin, they give up.

“Just put it back in the case,” Nico says glumly. “We might never get it out again if it does go in.”

Will does so, flipping to the radio. They’re not required to keep the police scanner on, but Will supposes they should at least check in and make sure they haven’t missed anything important.

There’s nothing at all for the longest time, and Will starts to doze to the sound of the static when suddenly there’s a crackle.

“Dispatch to all available units. We have a code 10-65, missing minor near Rockwood Forest. Repeat, missing minor near Rockwood Forest. All nearby units please respond.”

Will glances to his partner. “Missing kid?”

Nico’s brow furrows. “Yeah. Can you check on the location? I think we’re near there.”

Will presses the call button radio, leaning closer to the dash. “Dispatch, this is unit 215. We’re about 30 miles west of Argyle. Can you give us an ETA to Rockwood Forest from our current location?”

“Stand by, unit 215.”

The wipers are on low now, just an intermittent drizzle. Despite the damp and the low hang of clouds in the sky, it’s gorgeous out here, just starting to green up. Will finds himself itching to get out in it, inhale a few deep lungfuls of fresh, forest air. Hopefully be of some help, too.

The radio crackles again. “Unit 215, you’re approximately ten miles west of Rockwood Forest.”

Will glances over at Nico, who nods. Will clicks the radio once more. “Unit 215, en route.”

“Hey, it’s you guys!” Magnus brightens, making his way over to them through the crowd of officers. He squeezes Will’s arm, and Will pats him on the shoulder. Magnus takes a formal step back, back straight. “Agent di Angelo,” he nods, eyes sparkling. Nico rolls his eyes.

“So, what’s going on?” Nico asks.

Magnus heaves a sigh, shoving a hand through his hair. “Too much, honestly. We’ve got an escaped convict – there was a crew of prisoners from Morgantown doing some highway cleanup about a mile from here, one guy made a break for it. We think he headed this way. This is him.” He hands Nico a photocopied picture. “Then there’s a nine-year-old boy missing in the area as well.”

Will and Nico share a glance, concerned, and Magnus immediately shakes his head. “We don’t have any reason to believe they’re connected. Guy was in prison on some minor charges, he’s not believed to be dangerous. Kid seems to have wandered off from his buddies who were playing in the area. But it’s all-hands-on-deck until we find them both.”

Magnus hands Nico another photocopied sheet, a school picture of a young boy with a wide, toothy grin and shaggy dark hair. “Sam’s been out for a few hours already, no sign of either of them. The kid – Andy Torres – may or may not be in the company of his dog, who’s also missing.” He passes Nico one more sheet, a photo of the dog.

Will leans in, propping his chin on Nico’s shoulder for a better look. Nico elbows him in the ribs.

“Nice dog,” Will grins, taking a step back.

“Yeah,” Magnus sighs, frazzled, “husky-shepherd cross. Not considered dangerous. Answers to Chew-Barka.”

Will laughs. “Nice.”

Nico inspects all three pages of slightly damp paper before passing them to Will. “So. Where do you want us?”

Feeling more than a little self-conscious about it now, Will pulls out his glasses as they enter the forest. They are kind of necessary, in the current circumstances.

Nico’s gaze flicks over. “You know, they –” Nico cuts himself off, making a face. “The glasses. You look… good. In them.”

Will breathes out a laugh, embarrassed. “You don’t have to say that. But thanks.”

“I wasn’t just saying it.”

Will glances over to see his partner, eyes set on the trail, pink in his cheeks.

“But if you really don’t like them,” Nico adds, awkward but determined, “you could get some new frames, find something you like better. They have some really nice ones now. My sister just got some – they’re like, purple and… chunky.” Nico waves a hand vaguely in front of his face.

Will smiles, fond. “I don’t know if I could pull off purple and chunky, but yeah. Maybe you’re right.”

Nico’s quiet for a moment, the crunch and squelch of mulchy leaves underfoot. “Anyway. I’m sorry for teasing. I didn’t realize it was a sore spot.”

Will shakes his head. “No, it’s really fine. I’m just being stupid.” He makes a face. “And I’m – sorry I called you grumpy.”

Nico sighs, a little dramatic now. “You know, the more times you apologize for calling me grumpy, the more glaringly obvious it is that you’re not sorry for calling me short.”

Will laughs, loud. Nico’s still got his gaze set ahead of him, but there’s something pleased and satisfied in the set of his mouth that loosens the tension in Will’s shoulders. “You don’t wanna be good-natured and tall,” Will says. “That would make you too powerful.”

He makes a gentle, purposeful collision into his partner’s side on the narrow path and Nico rolls his eyes.

They’ve been tramping through the forest for almost an hour when Nico suddenly comes to an abrupt halt. Will, once more lamenting his choice of footwear, slips on the wet leaves underfoot and nearly bowls his partner over.

“Did you hear that?” Nico says, hushed.

They’re both silent for a long moment, blue eyes gazing into brown. All Will can hear is birdsong, water dripping somewhere nearby. Maybe several somewheres.

He pushes his hair off his forehead, and his hand comes away damp. He grimaces. His shoes are caked with mud, pants damp and muddy up to mid-calf. Nico’s looking equally damp, the bottom of his coat spattered with mud and a smudge of it across his cheek, dark eyes wide under a mop of dark hair. His hair has a bit of a wave to it, moreso in the humidity, a perfect, spiral curl just behind his left ear.

Nico shakes his head. “Fuck. I was sure I heard something. A voice.”

Before Will can even reply –

“Help! Somebody help me!”

“Andy?” Will calls.

Silence.

“This way,” Nico mutters, turning to lead Will straight through the trees, nothing like a path for them to follow. Will’s hot on his tail, shoes slipping on the slick ground, grabbing onto rough bark to steady himself.

There’s the sound of a dog letting out a sharp whine. They pick up speed, branches scraping at their faces, dead leaves catching in their hair. Will takes a damp tumble when he trips over an exposed root, knees muddy, but he’s up again a second later, pushing through the underbrush. They emerge from the trees onto the bank of a creek, trickling sluggishly through deadfall and muck. There’s a culvert, just visible, and then the sound of a few plaintive barks.

They approach the bank. It’s slippery with wet leaves and mud. It doesn’t look particularly treacherous though, just messy. Thankfully, the water below is shallow. Will half-climbs, half-slides down the bank. Nico follows, only slightly more graceful.

“Andy?” Will calls again, near the culvert. “Andy Torres?”

“Hi?” comes a boy’s voice in response.

The two men glance at each other. Relief.

“Are you okay in there? Why are you in a culvert?” Will asks, loud. Nico snorts and Will shoves him, nearly sending him sliding further down the bank. Nico grabs Will’s arm to steady himself.

“My dog ran in and he got stuck,” says a small voice after a moment. “Can you get my dad?”

Will smiles, half-listening to Nico, now on the radio to other searchers in the area. “Your dad should be here soon. In the meantime – my friend and I out here are FBI agents. We’re going to try to get you out, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” the boy says, sounding less than enthused. Then he adds, “I’m really muddy. My mom’s gonna be mad.”

“Wait until your mom sees us,” Nico calls, dry. “We’re even muddier.”

There’s a giggle from inside the pipe.

They share a glance. “After you?” Nico says hopefully.

Will tilts his head, glancing first at the muddy culvert, then Nico. “You are smaller. Besides, someone should stay out here and um… wait for the others to arrive.”

Nico groans. “Fine.” He inches a bit closer.

Will scans the area critically. “I think we’re going to… here.” He carefully lowers himself to the creek bed, cringing as his already-muddy shoes fill with icy, stagnant water.

“Come on in, the water’s fine,” he says deadpan, and Nico grimaces.

They manage it, eventually, Will giving Nico a boost into the pipe, both getting even muddier in the process. The dark-haired man disappears into the hole in the bank grumbling to himself.

Half a dozen other agents, a couple of EMTs and Andy’s dad have arrived by the time Nico emerges with Andy and Chew-Barka in tow, and Will watches, amused, as Nico is roundly congratulated, probably receiving far more handshakes and thumps on the back in ten minutes than he’d like in an entire year. He finally makes his way back towards Will looking harassed but pleased, and they follow along near the rear of the group as everyone heads back towards the trailhead.

Andy, thankfully, doesn’t seem hurt in the least, and his high, excited voice carries back to them as he swings off his father’s arm, enumerating his adventures. Chew-Barka looks thrilled just to be along for the ride, repeatedly tripping up the search team as he attempts to make friends with everyone.

“That was a good morale boost,” Nico murmurs, a small smile on his face as they pick their way over a fallen tree.

“Yeah,” Will agrees. “Always good to schedule in a few of those.”

They trudge along in silence for a while, the group in front of them slowly drawing further ahead.

Will glances over at his partner. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Nico huffs. “Just trying to keep my shoes from getting wetter than they already are.”

“Good luck with that.”

They’re only walking for another minute when Nico speaks up, sudden. “Did you see his dad?”

Will blinks. “Whose dad? Andy’s?”

“Yeah,” Nico says, and then there’s a pause as they pick their way around a large puddle, anchoring themselves on branches alongside the path to keep from falling into the muck. “He didn’t seem upset with the kid at all, did he?”

Will frowns, considering. Andy’s dad had caught the little boy up in his arms and squeezed him like there was nothing else in the world. He thinks there isn’t anything quite like the relief on a parent’s face at finding their child is safe when they were worried otherwise. “Why would he have been upset?” Will asks slowly. “I know the kid wandered off, but… I think he was just happy we found him in one piece.”

Nico nods. “Exactly. That’s how – that’s what dads should be like,” he says fervently.

Will glances over, processing. Nico’s studiously avoiding his gaze. Then, “Oh,” Will says, soft. “Not like your dad?”

“No, he would’ve…” Nico shakes his head. “No. Not like mine.”

Will’s throat goes tight. He wants to reach out, but Nico picks up his pace, and Will does his best to keep up.

Several hours later there hasn’t been any sign of the escaped convict. The rain has stopped though, and the sky has begun to clear, trails of white fluffy clouds smudged above the treetops. Nico’s somewhat less damp, now, if nothing else. He hopes the lady at his regular dry cleaner will refrain from comments on the state of his pants.

The search crew are lingering around the trailhead, awaiting further instruction. Nico glances over to see his partner seated at a picnic table with Sam, dappled sunlight illuminating Will’s blond curls and Sam’s hijab, sky blue today. The two are chatting animatedly.

“Search is moving into town,” Magnus announces, making his way over to Nico. He’s looking a bit disheveled at this point in the operation too, but his gray eyes are bright. “There was a reported sighting. I just heard from Ramirez-Arellano though. She wants you and Solace to head back to DC. Says if you accumulate one more minute of overtime she’s sending you both on a forced vacation.”

Nico huffs. “Fine.” He can’t say he’s too disappointed. His back is aching and his toes are icy inside his wet socks.

“Keep in touch though, yeah?” Magnus says. “Sam was saying something about organizing another karaoke night.” He winks and Nico rolls his eyes.

Magnus heads back to the search crew and Nico crosses to the picnic table. Sam’s gone, but Will’s still sitting there, legs stretched out, eyes closed, face turned up to the weak spring sunlight. Photosynthesizing, maybe.

Nico stops in front of the picnic table, giving the wooden structure a light kick. “Hey.”

Will opens his eyes, already grinning. “Hey.”

“Hate to interrupt your tanning session, but Reyna wants us to head back. They’re moving the search into town, and we’re not invited.” Nico drops down beside his partner. His cold feet are throbbing.

“So rude,” Will sighs, dramatic. “I have some good news, though – look what Sam lent me!”

Will holds out a CD. Nico peers at it, then pulls a face. “Dawson’s Creek? Isn’t that the show with the teenagers with the huge vocabularies?”

“Nico.” Will shakes his head, solemn. “It’s so much more than that. Dawson’s Creek is a classic. Ahead of its time. Sam and I are going to watch the season finale together, in May. You should come!” Will nudges his leg with a muddy shoe, and Nico grimaces. Not that he can get much muddier.

“I think I’m washing my hair that night.”

Will sticks out his tongue.

Really? He’s almost thirty years old. He’s a doctor.

“Party pooper. Anyway, the soundtrack is really good. You’ll like it. We can listen to it on our next trip.” Will wiggles his eyebrows in a manner that’s probably meant to indicate that what he’s just proposed should be enticing to Nico.

Nico sighs, pained. “Fine. I guess.” He stands. His cold, wet shoes make a weird squelching sound, accompanied by a weird squelching sensation. Gross. “Let’s go. I wanna stop in town for snacks before we head back to DC.”

“Sure.” Will extends his hand.

Nico blinks at the hand, then at Will. “What.”

“Help me up,” Will says, as if that should have been obvious.

“Help you – why should I – why do you –” Nico sputters.

Will sighs. “Nico, we can argue about it, or you can just help me up.” He makes a grabby gesture.

“Oh my god,” Nico mutters, grabbing Will’s warm, large hand and yanking him to his feet. It does something stupid to Nico’s stomach and he drops Will’s hand quickly, shoving down the impulse to rub his own hand on his coat. Really, if Will’s hands are going to be so much larger than his, then surely Will should be the one helping Nico up, or –

Will smiles, all sunlight and freckles. Jerk.

“Andy was right,” Will says. “You are strong.”

“What?” Nico laughs, startled. He can feel himself going red, and he walks a bit faster up the path, attempting to position his flushed face out of sight.

“I heard him telling his dad,” Will grins, catching up easily with his stupid long legs. “All about the strong, brave policeman who rescued him.”

“Jesus,” Nico mutters, unable to come up with anything cleverer.

Will laughs, bright.

The car is parked about half a mile from the trailhead, and they make their way back through the wooded trail together. The sun is slowly beginning to warm the forest, and it smells lush and earthy, droplets of water sparking on leaves in the filtered sunlight. Nico’s dragging a bit after a long day, having trouble focusing on anything besides his wet feet, but Will seems energized, practically skipping next to him.

“I’m so hungry I could eat the north end of a southbound polecat,” Will announces, affecting a southern drawl. Nico snorts, and Will glances over, grinning. “That’s what my nana used to say,” he explains. A branch catches his hair and he pauses to untangle it.

“That’s a new one,” Nico mutters.

“Why, what would you say?” Will asks, still bouncing along next to him.

Nico makes a face. “I don’t know. I’m just hungry. I don’t feel the need to drag out colloquialisms about it.”

Will ignores this. “I’m so hungry I could eat my arm,” he says. “Or your arm.” He grabs Nico’s arm and squeezes.

“God, you’re so touchy Nico complains, batting Will’s hand away. They’re walking side by side, but it’s still obvious, the way Will wilts at the words, a dimming in Nico’s peripheral vision. Nico immediately internally berates himself.

The truth is he’s never been touched so much – at least not outside of romantic relationships. Or at least, not in his memory. He’s sure his mother was affectionate with him, but his memories of her are so hazy, more flashes of her smile, a vague memory of her presence in the house, comforting. And while Bianca was his best friend, his companion and sometimes caregiver, she was never easy with physical touch the way Will is. Nico never has been either. He never thought he particularly liked it, or wanted it. It's taken some adjusting to, as prickly as he knows he can be, but now that he has, he very much doesn’t want to be without it. And Will’s touch is so easy. Something generous. Unconditional. It makes Nico feel warm and grounded.

“Sorry,” Will says, chastened, the teasing gone from his voice. “I’m – I know I can be. I’ll back off.” Will moves a bit further away.

Fuck.

“I don’t – I don’t actually… mind,” Nico manages, feeling his face heat. “I was just – I was teasing. Sorry.”

Will glances over, still guarded. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Nico says, embarrassed. “I might – I kind of like it. Actually.” he admits. His face is burning, but look. He brought this on himself.

Will beams, suddenly throwing an arm around Nico’s shoulders, hugging him from the side. It nearly knocks them both to the forest floor.

“Okay, okay. Nerd,” Nico mumbles, gruff. But he carefully slides an arm around Will’s waist, squeezing back before Will moves away, and okay. That’s kind of nice.

They make the short drive into Rockwood. It’s barely large enough to be called a town, Will thinks, and lunch options are thin on the ground. They park on the main street, leaving their muddy coats in the trunk before making their way across the street and up the block to a small grocery store. They exit soon thereafter with a paper bag brimming with snacks, wrapped deli sandwiches and two bottles of soda. Will glances at their reflection in a glass storefront as they wait for the town’s single traffic light to change. He huffs out a laugh.

Nico turns, cocking an eyebrow. “What?”

Will waves a hand towards the glass. “Just wondering how you manage to look artfully windswept after our trek through the woods while I look like I just crawled out of a trash compactor. Especially since you were the one who climbed through the culvert.”

Nico snorts, glancing into the glass. He preens a little and Will laughs. Will glances back to Nico himself, who’s gone a bit pink.

“You – you look fine, anyway,” Nico says, gruff.

Will grins. The light changes and he follows Nico across the street. There aren’t many pedestrians around to begin with, and both men glance up automatically as a man passes them, crossing the street in the opposite direction.

They pause mid-step, halfway across the street. Realization seems to dawn over Nico at the same time as it does Will.

Nico scrambles to pull out the papers that Magnus gave them hours ago, his eyes wide.

“Was that –”

“Fuck.”

A quick glance at the photocopied picture of the escaped convict and both Will and Nico hurry back across the street the way they’d come.

“Edward Michael Corrin?” Will calls.

The man whips around to look at them. His eyes go wide and he takes off at a sprint.

“FBI, stop where you are! Nico yells. If anything, this makes the man run faster.

“I hate running,” Nico groans, cursing and taking off after Corrin. Will sadly abandons their bag of snacks, dropping it as carefully as he can before racing after his partner. Nico may not be tall, but god, he’s fast, and Will’s quickly out of breath.

The town of Rockwood borders right on dense woods, and that’s where Corrin seems to be heading. Will grimaces, thinking ruefully of his already-wet feet and muddy clothes.

Will’s just finished calling for backup as he sees Nico disappear into the trees, maybe 50 yards behind Corrin. The guy’s got a lot of life left in him, considering he’s been on the run all day.

The land here isn’t quite as wet, but it’s rocky and uneven. Will’s pace is slowed immediately as he tries to find a safe way through the woods. The forest here is mostly deciduous, thankfully, just the barest hint of new leaves on the trees. Otherwise, Will thinks there’s no way he would have spotted his partner, halfway up a sharp incline. Nico’s gasping for air, leaning forward with hands propped on his thighs. Will reaches him a moment later, clutching at a stitch in his side.

“I think I lost him,” Nico manages, breathless. “Fuck, I hate running.”

Will breathes out a laugh, sharp. “Yeah, it‘s not my first choice either.” His lungs are burning, but he manages to force himself upright, shoving hair off his sweaty forehead and scanning the landscape. “You didn’t see which way he went?”

Nico shakes his head, still catching his breath. There’s a rip in the shoulder of his jacket.

“Should probably keep climbing,” Nico manages, tilting his head towards the top of the hill. “Might get a better look from up there.”

Sadly, he’s probably right, and they make their way up, breathing hard. The rocky soil underfoot might make for good footholds under other circumstances, but right now the rocks are slippery with rainwater and dead leaves, and Will nearly loses his footing several times, finally resorting to crawling rather than climbing to the top of the hill.

“Where the fuck is everyone?” Nico breathes as they reach the hilltop. It’s dotted with birch up here, too, but the trees are thinner.

Will glances around, chest heaving. “Maybe – there?” He points across the little plateau they’re standing on, because he’s sure he’s just seen movement, a flash of color…

“Where?”

Not enough breath for conversation, Will grabs Nico’s chin with a sweaty hand and points him in the right direction. Nico blinks, startled, but there’s no time to argue, because –

“Oh fuck, that’s him.”

And Nico takes off running again. Will groans, one more deep breath before following. Where are the others?

At least he’s no longer fighting his way uphill. The ground up here isn’t quite as rocky, and Will makes better progress than he had been.

“FBI, stop where you are!” Nico yells again. Corrin doesn’t, but in the next second, Nico’s somehow right on his tail, then he’s got the other man by the shoulder and then they both go down. There’s a brief tussle, but by the time Will catches up, Nico’s got Corrin’s hands behind his back, fumbling for his handcuffs.

“Nice one,” Will gasps, crouching down to help. Nico pulls Corrin to his feet just as the other agents crest the hill, Sam and Magnus in the lead.

“Nice of you all to finally show up,” Nico says, breathless.

There’s a blur of activity. Corrin is led down the hill. Nico takes a few minutes to debrief Magnus, but finally they head back towards the little town they’d left so suddenly. They don’t talk much as they make their way back over the rocky ground, finally emerging from the trees into late afternoon sunlight.

“Oh hey, our snacks are still here!” Will exclaims as they round the corner, spotting the paper bag he’d stowed next to a mailbox. “Thank god, because I could, quite literally, eat your arm at this point.”

He quirks an eyebrow at Nico, who rolls his eyes. “Oh – you’re bleeding,” Will frowns, grabbing his partner by the arm and turning him.

“It’s fine. Sam gave me a bandaid.”

“Let me –” Will ducks his head, trying to get a better look. Sure enough, there is a bandaid at the corner of Nico’s forehead, right at his hairline. A dark lock of hair has fallen over it, might even have done a good job concealing it, if not for the trickle of blood.

“Nico, it’s not fine. There’s literally blood running down the side of your face.”

“Just a flesh wound.”

Will rolls his eyes. “That doesn’t mean you – here. Sit. I’ll be back with the first aid kit.” He grabs both Nico’s shoulders, guiding him firmly to a bench.

“Will, I can make it back to the car, it’s just a cut,” Nico complains.

“Yeah, I know, but the light’s better out here. Just stay put. And give me the car keys.” Will gives him a stern look, holding out his hand, and Nico finally slumps, acquiescing.

Will shoots a glance over his shoulder to make sure Nico hasn’t moved as he hurries back to the car, popping the trunk. He’s been trying to push it aside as best he can, but images of Nico collapsed on a motel room floor, rapidly losing consciousness, seem burned into his brain. The way Will’s heart had plummeted when Nico had stopped responding, gone limp under his hands. The interminable drag of minutes as Will waited for the ambulance to arrive, counting Nico’s every breath.

Nico casually bleeding from a head wound isn’t particularly helping matters. Will takes a moment for a few deep breaths, for whatever good that might do, before heading back up the street.

Nico’s waiting for him, looking mollified or disgruntled, Will’s not sure.

“Okay, let’s take a look,” Will says, settling himself next to Nico. He opens the little med kit, cleaning his hands and then pulling on gloves. He offers the hand sanitizer to Nico as well, who holds out his hand obediently as Will squirts a blob into his palm.

“Can you hold your hair back?” Will asks.

Will carefully peels the bandaid back, blood already soaking through the fabric. It’s a jagged cut, nearly two inches long and still bleeding freely. It could probably use a few stitches.

“Jesus,” Will mutters. “How did this happen?”

Nico’s nose scrunches. Sitting this close in the sunlight, Will notices a scatter of freckles across the bridge of his nose. “Not sure. Might have been a rock.”

Will gently tilts Nico’s head to the side. “Did Sam see this when she gave you the bandaid? Why didn’t she take you to the EMTs? They were right there when the guys carted Corrin off.”

Nico makes a small sound in his throat, noncommittal.

“Nico?” Will frowns. “Did Sam tell you to see the EMTs?”

Nico glances over, cagey. “I told her you’d look at it.”

Will huffs. “Seriously? And were you planning on mentioning that to me?”

Nico shrugs, and Will gets to work cleaning out the cut, his jaw set. Nico’s gaze flicks over to him a few times, but he stays quiet.

Finally Will shakes his head, dabbing at the still-bleeding wound. “I can put a Steri-Strip on this, but I’d really recommend getting it stitched instead.”

“But you can do it?” Nico says, hesitant.

Will sighs. “I can. If the other option is putting a bandaid back over it and oozing blood all the way back to DC.”

Nico grimaces. “Can – can you do the Steri-Strip? Please?”

“Fine,” Will says, short. The trouble with human bodies is that they’re so fucking fallible. All that blood, right under the skin. Bones that break and hearts that stop and the smallest, stupidest choices that can put you six feet under. Will grits his teeth, throat tight.

“You’re angry at me,” Nico says quietly.

Will blinks, pulled from his morose contemplation.

“What? No.” He shakes his head. “No, I’m really not. Sorry.” He carefully secures one side of the Steri-Strip to Nico’s forehead, applying gentle pressure with two fingertips and holding gauze against the wound with his other hand. “I’m just going to hold this here for a minute and make sure the adhesive sticks before I secure the other side.”

Will’s eyes flick to his partner, who’s watching him with something like wariness.

“I’m not mad,” Will repeats. “I’m just –” he trains his gaze on his gloved fingertips, pressed to his partner’s forehead. Nico’s blood slowly soaks through the gauze, shocking red against the white. Will takes a deep breath. “I almost lost you on our last case. Gotta be more careful this time. Right?” His voice comes out clipped and hoarse.

“But that wasn’t your fault,” Nico says slowly. He’s still holding his hair out of the way, and he swaps one hand for the other, taking care not to jostle Will’s fingers.

Will grimaces. “Wasn’t it? I read the autopsy report on the first victim. I performed the autopsy on the second one. And then I let you order pizza, and I left.” He hadn’t had the space to give it much thought at the time, but in the ensuing days it’s weighed on him more and more. It seems baffling how quickly they moved on from it. Baffling that they’re both still here, alive and breathing.

Nico’s brow creases. “But that’s – I read the autopsy reports too, Will. I didn’t put the pieces together either. And besides, if you hadn’t left, we’d probably both be dead.”

Will shrugs. “I think this side is adhered now,” he tells Nico, avoiding his gaze. “You’re just going to feel some tension and then I’ll secure the other side.”

“Okay,” Nico says quietly.

Will finishes applying the Steri-Strip, then carefully tapes a square of gauze over it. He clears his throat. “I don’t think it’s going to bleed too much more, but the gauze will take care of it if it does.”

Will takes a deep breath, finally turning his gaze to Nico, who’s watching him with those big, dark eyes, his expression solemn. Looking at Nico from inches away like this is a bit like gazing directly into the sun. Will glances down instead, peeling off his gloves and discarding them with the trash in the can next to the bench.

“Any other open wounds I should know about, before I put the kit away?” Will asks irritably.

“No,” Nico says softly.

Will begins packing away his supplies. His hands are clumsy, though, his heart beating too fast, and he fumbles the gauze and then the baggie of cotton balls. Nico pulls the kit and all its accessories out of Will’s hands, packing everything away and handing it back wordlessly.

“Thanks,” Will mutters. He sighs. “Look, I didn’t mean to bring that up. I didn’t mean to make things awkward. Can we just forget about it?”

Nico watches him for a long moment. “I don’t know,” he says finally.

Will can still feel his pulse pounding in his throat. “You don’t know?”

“Well, I –” Nico lets out a breath, sharp. “Look, I’m not good at…” he waves a hand vaguely. “Talking. But I think – look. This job has certain risks, right? And we know that going into it. And if anything ever happened to me, because of this job – this job that I choose to do – I would never want you to blame yourself. Not even if, say, you think you missed something. Or even if you fucked up – which you didn’t, incidentally. But I would never want you to carry that with you. Because this job is my choice, and I accept the risks that it involves. Okay?”

Will lets out a breath. “I mean, that’s easy to say but…”

Nico nods. “I know, but –”

“But obviously I’d never want you to blame yourself either,” Will says, “if anything ever happened to me.”

“Well.” Nico suddenly looks conflicted. The waning sunlight catches on his dark hair, his long lashes, a flash of gold. “That’s different.”

“What? Why –”

“Because I’m never going to let anything happen to you,” Nico says smoothly, his lips quirking.

Will stares at the other man for a moment, his throat going tight. “Yeah? That’s your grand plan?”

Nico shrugs, smug. Will manages a laugh. “You’re such a nerd.” Will restrains himself, just, from throwing his arms around his partner’s neck and sobbing into his shoulder.

“Fine. Then I’m not going to let anything happen to you either,” Will says, as light as he can.“And in fifty years we’ll be like… chasing down perps together with our walkers and canes.” Will feels his face warming at all the possible implications of that, but Nico only laughs, looking pleased.

Will stands, holding out his hand to his partner, who accepts it. Nico’s hand is warm. It fits nicely in his. Will pulls Nico to his feet.

Will leads the way back to the car, unlocking it and passing the keys to Nico, who still has a quietly please look on his face.

“You wanna solve crimes with me when we’re old and infirm?” Nico asks, light.

“Well,” Will huffs, stowing the med kit in the trunk. “Not if you can’t be bothered to tell me when you’re actively bleeding,” he can’t quite resist saying.

But Nico just grins. “That’s probably something I can work on.”

There’s a light chill in the air now, at the day’s end, but the car is sun-warmed and cozy inside. Will’s very much looking forward to staying seated for a couple of hours and finally eating something.

Nico starts the car and then pulls down the sun shade, flipping open the mirror. He wrinkles his nose. “Not so artfully windswept now.”

Will glances over and grins. “I don’t know. I think you can pull it off. I especially like the bloody bandage. And the leaves.”

Nico huffs, tilting his head. He plucks several dried leaves and a small twig from his hair.

Will watches, fond. “You missed a couple,” he says, and when Nico can’t quite locate them, turning his head this way and that, Will can’t help himself. “Here,” he says, leaning closer.

Nico stills, but Will’s committed now, stomach fluttering with nerves despite the fact that he’s just spent the last twenty minutes in close quarters patching up Nico’s head. It feels as if there’s something more private about the car, though, and this is distinctly less medical. Less necessary.

Nico’s hair is soft, silky. Will’s fumbling fingers take a moment longer than they should to extricate the leaves, and he can feel his face warming in the process. Nico smells a bit like sunshine, a bit like the fresh forest air, and under all of it, the comfortingly familiar smell of Nico. It doesn’t help Will’s butterflies.

“Got it,” Will says, finally, a little rough, holding up the leaves in demonstration. He lowers the passenger side window, letting the leaves flutter out onto the street outside.

There’s a rather loaded silence following this interaction and it’s truly ridiculous, Will thinks, the way his heart is pounding in his chest.

“I really need a haircut,” Nico mutters as he starts the car.

Will huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, same.” He ducks his head to inspect his reflection in the window, shoving a few errant curls out of his face.

Will finds a radio station that’s acceptable to both of them, and neither speaks much more until the exit signs for Baltimore begin flashing past in the twilight.

“Actually –” Nico glances over at Will, then away.

“Hmm?”

“If you wanna take a quick detour into Baltimore, I’ll treat you to a haircut?”

Will’s face must betray his confusion, because Nico immediately goes red, turning back to the road. “Sorry, that sounded really weird,” he laughs. “My um – my sister. Half-sister. She lives in Baltimore. She always cuts my hair for me. I could use a trim, and we’re in the neighborhood – forget it, though. I’m sure you want to get back to DC.”

“No, that actually sounds great.” Will actually has very little desire to get back to his empty apartment. Kayla’s away overnight, and the Wednesday night TV lineup is usually a bore. He grins, poking Nico in the shoulder. “I can’t believe you’re going to introduce me to your family already. It’s only our tenth case-iversary.”

Nico scowls. “I changed my mind.” He moves to bump the cruise control back up.

Will laughs, loud, grabbing Nico’s wrist to pull it away from the cruise. “No, no, I’m sorry. I would love a haircut. I promise I’ll be good,” he adds, because Nico’s looking pained.

“Anyway, it’s our eleventh case-iversary,” Nico mutters a moment later.

Will blinks. “You’re right,” he realizes. “I forgot about the spaceship.”

Nico snorts.

“What’s the gift, for the eleventh case-iversary?” Will wonders aloud.

“Haircuts,” Nico says, dry.

Will nods, serious. “Right, right. Tenth was shitty take-out coffee.”

Nico shakes his head, looking harassed, but he drops his speed again. “Case-iversary,” he mutters under his breath, disparaging, as he exits the freeway. Will laughs. ___

It’s fully dark by the time they park on a quiet street in the heart of industrial Baltimore. Nico turns off the car and then pauses, not unbuckling his seatbelt yet.

Will shoots a glance in his direction. “What’s up?”

Nico looks uncertain. “Um. Just – my sister –”

“Hazel, right?”

Nico looks surprised. “Yeah. You remembered.”

Will shrugs. “It’s kind of an unusual name. Pretty.”

Nico watches him for a moment, then nods. “Yeah,” he says. “So – she lives with her boyfriend, Frank. He’s great. They’ve been together for ages. Actually, he’s my star researcher – remember he did the background check on Robert Marcus?”

“Oh, Frank Zhang, right? Perfect, I already love Frank,” Will smiles.

“Me too. He’s fantastic. But then there’s their roommate, Leo.” Nico scrunches his nose. “He’s… well, he can be a lot. Just so you’re forewarned.”

Will nods. “Okay, noted.”

“He actually – he’s the one who gave me those playing cards.”

“Oh, I see,” Will laughs.

“Yeah.” Nico rolls his eyes, unbuckling his seatbelt.

Will closes the car door, stretching. He glances down at himself, brushing off as much of the dried mud as he’s able to. Nico joins him on the sidewalk, does the same.

“Ready?” Nico asks.

Will swallows, more nervous than he thinks he probably should be. “Yup. Bring it on.”

Nico pauses, his gaze softening as it flicks over Will’s face. “They’ll like you,” he says.

There’s a shriek as the door opens, and Nico is immediately enveloped by a woman several inches shorter than him with a fluffy cloud of golden-bronze curls. “You should have told me you were coming by,” she exclaims, then turns to yell over her shoulder, “Frank, have you ordered the pizza yet? Can you get extra?”

Hazel’s eyes light up as she catches sight of Will, hovering awkwardly just beyond the doorway. “You must be Will!” she exclaims, reaching out to shake his hand. Will smiles at being so enthusiastically received then smiles a little more, just to himself, at the surprise of Nico’s hand, pressing low on his back as the other man ushers him into the apartment. The small touch is reassuring, immediately making him feel more at ease. As much as Nico denied it, Will knows that he can be too touchy.

“You’re not allergic to dogs, are you, Will? Or cats?” Hazel asks.

“Or hamsters, or lizards?” comes a deep voice in the background. “Hi, I’m Frank,” says the man attached to the voice, sticking out his hand with a warm smile. He’s tall, burly, with close-cropped dark hair and a kind face.

“Frank works at an animal shelter part-time,” Hazel explains, somewhat apologetic as Will toes off his shoes and an enormous orange cat approaches, sniffing the muddy cuffs of his pants. “He brings home a lot of strays.”

“Oh, is that what we’re calling me now?” asks a third voice, and another man crowds into the already packed entryway. He’s about Nico’s height, and wiry, with a head of brown, glossy curls. He grins widely at Will, giving him an appreciative, very obvious once-over, then turning to Nico. “Is this your skeptical partner? He’s hot.”

Nico scowls. “You can fuck all the way off,” he mutters to the newcomer, then turns to Will. “I’m so sorry. Please feel free to ignore him. I try to.”

“Nice to meet you, Will. I’m Leo.” The man sticks out his hand, offering a toothy smile. Will reaches out to grasp Leo’s hand. “The moon landing was faked,” Leo adds, his smile never faltering.

Will can’t tell whether he’s supposed to laugh or not, and he ends up just kind of awkwardly staring.

“God,” Nico mutters, grabbing Will by the arm and dragging him further into the apartment. “Hazel, we actually came by to see if you had time to cut my hair – and Will’s,” Nico says, sounding a little guilty. “I know I should have called first, but we were in the neighborhood and –”

Hazel’s face lights up. “I would love to cut your hair, Will,” she says, stepping closer and beginning what feels like a clinical inspection of Will’s head, rising on her toes and tilting her head from side to side. Will tries very hard not to feel like some sort of a medical specimen. “And yours too, Nico,” she adds as an afterthought, reaching out to examine a curl at Will’s ear more closely. “Will, what’s your curl regimen?”

“My um – what?”

“Your curl regimen,” Hazel says, deadly serious. “What products do you use?”

“I –” Will blinks at Hazel. “I wash it? And um… sometimes I use a little gel?” He looks helplessly at Nico, who looks like he’s trying desperately not to laugh.

Nico nods, solemn. “It’s true, he does sometimes use a little gel. I’ve seen him do it.”

Hazel’s brow furrows. With disappointment, maybe? Will suddenly feels very guilty for something, though he can’t quite get a handle on what that might be.

Nico sighs. “Sorry. Hazel gets a little excited about curly hair. It’s kind of her thing.”

Hazel turns to stick her tongue out at her brother and then, thank god, ceases her inspection of Will’s head. Hazel’s brow furrows as she takes in Nico’s appearance.

“What on earth did the two of you get up to today?” Hazel asks, sounding worried. She plucks a leaf from Nico’s hair that Will must have missed earlier, her eyes going wide at the hint of bandage half-hidden under Nico’s over-long bangs. Hazel brushes the hair back from Nico’s forehead. He makes a face but doesn’t flinch away. “Oh no, what happened?”

“Well, actually,” Will says, “Nico completely saved the day.”

Nico’s gaze flicks over to him, pink in his cheeks. “I absolutely did not.”

“You absolutely did,” Will says. He turns to Hazel. “We were heading back to DC after a case, and we got a call about a separate incident while we were on the road. Missing dog, missing kid and missing convict. There were at least a dozen other agents on the case, but Nico managed to personally find all three of them.”

“Nico, really?” Hazel squeals. “That’s amazing!” She throws her arms around her brother.

“Well, when you put it that way,” Nico mutters as Leo claps him on the back and Frank nods approvingly.

“You mean when I describe the events exactly as they occurred?” Will grins. Nico shoots him a smile, a bit bashful. Hazel’s gaze flicks between the two of them with a level of interest that makes Will a little nervous.

She gives Nico a squeeze around the waist. “Come on, big brother. You can tell me all about your heroic deeds while I wash your hair. We’ve got time to give you a quick trim before the pizza comes, and then I can do Will’s afterwards.”

Will thinks Nico looks a bit reluctant to leave him with Frank and (probably more accurately) Leo, but he follows his sister and they disappear down a hallway together.

Frank leads the way into the main living area, he and Leo settling themselves in easy chairs. Will sits on the floor against the couch as a dog shyly approaches, sniffing delicately at Will’s hand when he extends it. She’s medium-sized, possibly some kind of a lab mix (Frank introduces her as Summer) and she climbs into Will’s lap, turning in an awkward circle before curling herself into a ball and tucking her head against Will’s stomach.

Leo is certainly a lot, as Nico described, but he’s easy enough to talk to. Soon he and Will are engaged in a friendly debate on flat earth theory, Frank sitting quietly in the background and occasionally shaking his head good-naturedly.

“I’m not saying I believe you could actually walk off the edge of the earth,” Leo is saying, his eyes bright, “but you have to admit they make some compelling arguments. And to be perfectly fair, I haven’t tried it myself.”

Will, who’s been trying hard not to laugh, finally allows himself a proper grin aimed at Nico as the dark-haired man returns to the main living area. Nico shoves a hand self-consciously through his now much-shorter hair, smiling to see Will sprawled on the floor against the couch, Summer still curled in his lap and a three-legged gray cat tucked under his arm. Nico lowers himself to the couch at Will’s shoulder.

Leo grins, jerking his chin towards Will. “He’s like a fucking Disney princess.”

“He sure likes to sing like one,” Nico complains and Will grins, his gaze flicking up to his partner. He sees the gauze has been removed from Nico’s head.

“Can I take a look at –” Will motions to Nico’s forehead and Nico leans forward obligingly, so Will can avoid dislodging the cat and dog.

A light touch to Nico’s temple and Nico leans his head closer. Will nods approvingly. “It looks better now. I think I did a decent job,” he says, a little relieved.

“You’re a forensic pathologist, Will?” Frank asks.

“Yes,” Will says, surprised. “These days the most medicine I do is autopsies. But Nico was kind enough to let me practice on a living specimen today.”

Leo and Hazel laugh. “I never should have brought you here,” Nico says, an amused look.

Will grins up at him, unrepentant. Frank looks to be thinking something over, a worried pinch to his brow.

“I know you’re not a vet,” Frank begins,“but would you mind taking a quick look at Otis later?”

“Sure,” Will agrees immediately, then suddenly hopes that Otis is, at least, a mammal. “And Otis is…?”

“A dog,” Frank says, looking relieved. “He’s got this infection under his ear. I’ve been doing my best with it, but I’d really appreciate a second set of eyes on him. I know you’re not really trained to –”

“No, it’s okay,” Will interrupts, smiling. “I’d love to take a look at Otis. I agree. It’s always good to get a second opinion.”

The doorbell buzzes, and Leo carries the pizza in a minute later, setting boxes on the table as Hazel follows with a stack of plates. Will fills his plate and moves back to the floor at the foot of the couch. Hearing a huff next to him a moment later, he laughs in surprise to see three more dogs sitting in a line, avidly watching the progress of his pizza from the plate to his mouth.

Hazel rolls her eyes. “Just ignore them, if you can,” she tells Will, attempting to (mostly unsuccessfully) shoo the dogs to their beds. Frank, looking a bit shifty, explains that while city bylaws generally prohibit having quite so many pets in a dwelling, he’s found certain ways to circumvent this.

“It’s okay, Frank,” Nico says. “He’s not that kind of cop.”

Frank looks a little relieved, dropping into a chair with a plate of pizza in one hand and a one-eyed tuxedo cat tucked under his arm. A second cat, this one a brown tabby, immediately hops gracefully into his lap.

“Definitely not,” Will assures Frank, grinning at the two cats simultaneously head-butting the man in the chair, Frank attempting to hold his pizza safely out of the way. “Anyway, you’ve certainly got the room for it here. This place is amazing.”

It really is. The apartment is impressive, the main living area a loft-style apartment with high ceilings and huge, arched, floor-to-ceiling windows. A mish-mash of pleasantly mismatched but comfortable-looking chairs and couches are scattered throughout the space, along with a large collection of dog beds, and several of the most elaborate cat trees Will has ever seen. In the corner, what looks like a crib mattress is occupied by something large, shaggy and weathered-looking. A dog, probably; whatever it is is lightly snoring.

Frank brightens. “Thanks. My dad owns the building, so our rent’s pretty cheap, and he’s willing to overlook the fact that this place isn’t really zoned as residential. We’ve got plenty of room for the pets and all our side-hustles. Hazel has a little salon in the back, and Leo has a workshop. The door to the kitchen is right where you came in, and that hallway there,” Frank points, “leads to the bedrooms.”

“I’d be happy to give you a tour,” Leo grins, leaning forwards in his chair. “Of the bedrooms.”

Will blinks.

“That definitely won’t be necessary,” Nico says firmly.

Hazel laughs, her arms raised over her head as she ties her hair out of her face. “If you’re finished eating, I can cut your hair now, Will.”

Will is, and Hazel leads him down a hallway into a small space that’s been converted into a salon, a long mirror and two styling chairs.

“I’ve heard lots of good things about you,” Hazel says casually as she drapes a cape over Will’s shoulders. Is my brother treating you well?”

Will wishes she wouldn’t say those words in quite that tone – but maybe he’s just imagining unasked questions. Regardless, his face warms, and he hopes Hazel won’t notice.

“Nico’s great,” Will offers. “He really knows his stuff. I’m learning a lot.”

“That’s good to hear.” Hazel efficiently spritzes Will’s hair with water, shielding his face with a hand at his forehead. “He can be a bit stubborn sometimes. Doesn’t always like following rules.”

Will laughs. “We make it work. We don’t always agree, but we can usually find a way to meet in the middle.”

“It sounds like the two of you make a good match,” Hazel says, reaching for a comb. “Professionally speaking, of course.”

“Of course,” agrees Will.

Hazel does her best to make a case for Will growing his hair longer and letting her teach him a decent curl regimen. He politely declines, citing a lack of time for grooming as well as the general vibe of the FBI.

“I understand,” Hazel says, sounding a little regretful. “You have beautiful curls, though. You let me know the second you decide to grow it out and I’ll set you up with products.”

“Will do,” Will agrees as Hazel begins snipping. “So, do you see a lot of clients here?”

“Yeah, I do,” Hazel says. “It’s been really busy the last couple of years. I have a lot of regular clients – and then I’ve got a ton of government and corporate contracts right now. Everyone’s in a panic about Y2K.”

Will blinks. “You’re – sorry. I’m assuming the government contracts don’t have anything to do with cutting hair?”

Hazel laughs. “No. I guess Nico didn’t mention – I have a degree in computer science – as well as my cosmetology license.”

“Oh, wow, that’s fantastic.”

“It keeps me busy,” Hazel agrees.

“I bet. And can I ask – the government contracts are for –”

“Oh.” Hazel rolls her eyes. “Paranoia, mostly. Government agencies and big corporations are afraid that when the millennium hits, all their computer systems will fail. Mass chaos and panic, you know?”

Will nods. He’s seen some Y2K compliant stickers on some equipment at work – he stuck one to Nico’s forehead the other day as he passed by his desk – and he’s heard some buzz in the media, but he honestly hasn’t been paying a lot of attention.

“I heard about some guy somewhere in the midwest who wants to go into his bunker on New Year’s Eve with two hundred hamsters – he’s planning on using them as a self-sustaining food supply,” Will says, remembering a newspaper he’d been reading to Nico on a recent road trip.

Hazel laughs. “I’m not surprised. Leo’s been trying to convince us to build a bomb shelter out in the woods. Honestly, the chances are it’s all going to be a bit of a letdown for everyone who’s so worked up about it. But everyone wants the appearance that they’re making an effort, right? They want plausible deniability. The contracts are out there – so I take them on, fix up the code, and keep pulling in the big bucks,” Hazel moves to stand in front of Will, checking her work.

“That sounds like a win-win,” Will says.

Hazel shrugs. “I think so. It makes Frank a little uncomfortable, knowing all this work is being done and all this money is being spent when it’s not really necessary. But someone’s gotta do it. And once the millennium turns over and everything is fine, Frank and I might finally be able to buy a big property in the country.”

Will’s eyebrows rise. “Oh yeah? That sounds amazing.”

Hazel smiles. “Yup. Frank can rescue as many dogs as his heart desires and I can finally have horses.”

Will glances up at Hazel’s face in the mirror, seeing the same expression on her face when she mentions horses as Nico has when he gets started on cryptids. Will smiles. Hazel’s engaging and kind, and Will finds himself warming to her quickly. Sure, Nico has those same qualities, sometimes in abundance, but it’s quieter. You have to work to get there, with him. With Hazel, it seems to be all on the surface.

Will’s back in the living room not long after, dropping onto the couch beside Nico, who’s scanning over a newspaper. Nico glances up from his reading in surprise, reaching out a hand to Will’s hair and brushing his fingertips over it lightly before seeming to catch himself.

“Looks good,” Nico manages, looking a little embarrassed.

Will grins. “Thanks. Hazel does good work. What’re you reading?”

“Oh.” Nico passes the paper over. “These guys –” he gestures around to the others in the room, “put out a monthly newsletter. I was just getting caught up.”

Will glances at the cover, scanning over headlines including Criminal Whalers Exposed and Teletubbies Mind Control??.

Will blinks, then flicks a gaze over to Nico, surreptitious and questioning.

Nico appears to be fighting a smile. “It’s mostly Leo’s brainchild, as you might have guessed. But it is actually a group effort. Frank’s research is amazing, of course – you know, government watchdog stuff.”

Will nods, grinning. “I have no doubt.” He flips the newspaper open.

“You can have that copy if you like,” Frank offers.

Will nods his thanks. “You guys have some great side hustles going on here. Coding, journalism, top-tier research –”

“And Leo,” Nico mutters.

Hazel bumps Nico with her shoulder, hard enough that he collides gently with Will on his other side. Will bumps him back.

“We all love Leo,” Hazel says.

Leo beams, and Nico almost audibly rolls his eyes.

“He can fix absolutely anything,” Frank adds. “He’s our robotics expert. He actually built the cat trees,” Frank gestures over to the massive structures at the other side of the room. Will notices now that they’re bolted securely to the wall.

“Cool,” Will nods. “And the animals are very cool, of course,” he adds, as Summer makes her way back into his now-available lap, stopping to touch her cold, wet nose to his before settling back in. “Did I see lizards in the back?” Will asks, scratching Summer behind the ears. He’s pretty sure he saw a lit tank in a room somewhere along the hallway.

“Yup,” Frank says proudly. “That’s Pancake. He’s a bearded dragon. We’ve got a bit of everything here.”

“Everything but birds,” Leo says, and before Will can answer he adds, serious, “because birds aren’t real.”

“Oh my god,” Nico mutters. He glances at Will, who nods. “We should actually get going.”

“It’s been a long day,” Will agrees. It’s hard to believe that it was just this morning that he and Nico were laughing over Leo’s x-rated playing cards.

The whole group of them crowd into the entryway to bid Will and Nico goodnight, Hazel throwing her arms first around her brother, then Will. Will hugs her back, surprised, but pleased. He has to admit, Hazel is nothing like what he would have imagined a sister of Nico’s to be.

“Come by any time, Will,” she says warmly. “Oh wait - here’s my card.” She presses it into his hand. “You won’t find anyone who does curly hair better. I cut your hair from now on,” she says, just a bit too intense, and Will suddenly sees the resemblance between the siblings, vividly.

“Yes please come by any time,” Leo adds, somehow making the words sound more suggestive than Will would have thought possible.

Nico scrubs a hand over his face. “Valdez, please don’t scare him away,” he says weakly. “I like this one.”

The door closes behind them and Will follows Nico to the elevator, grinning. “You like me,” he teases.

Nico snorts. “Yeah, don’t let it go to your head, though. It’s only our eleventh case-iversary.”

(chapter 6 here! Please note chapter 6 is split into two parts)

Notes:

1. It's another chapter already! I didn't think I'd get it out so fast, but this one wasn't in bad shape. The updates will slow down at some point because there are still big chunks I need to write from scratch. 2. I can't even remember how long this thing is because at some point it got so large I had to split it into separate docs. It might be 200k total by the end? 3. Thank you SO MUCH for reading and thank you SO MUCH for your comments. They really keep me going <3 4. Thanks once again to @rosyredlipstick for the beta. Thanks also to @anything-thats-rock-and-roll and @snoelledarts for allowing me to borrow their pets/friends' pets :)

#my writing #x-files au #solangelo #nico di angelo #will solace #casefic #conservatively rated teen for now #alternate universe - fbi #magnus chase #samirah al abbas #octavian sort of #this chapter isn't so much a case as a bunch of fluff and loose ends #back to real cases next chapter!#hazel levesque #leo valdez #frank zhang

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