#lykon and booker win gold and silver in individual épée respectively

[youssefguedira]

missing fencing worlds so have this (set in a slightly different version of my regular fencing au but everyone's weapons are still the same)

Joe makes it to the final.

He beats the standing world champion 13-15, after a video review called by the Hungarian team – and they'd both been holding their breath as they waited for the result, Joe's heart beating so hard it felt like it was going to burst out of his chest – didn't succeed in getting the referee to award his opponent the point instead, and Joe makes it to the final. He's never made it this far before. Nobody on his team has made it this far in years. His hands are still shaking while he watches the bronze medal match, Hungary just narrowly beating Japan for the bronze.

When he checks his phone, there's a text waiting from Andy. Italy pulled silver in team. We saw the semi-final. You got this, Joe.

And from Nicky, simply: In bocca al lupo.

Joe doesn't get a chance to respond before his coach calls him over, and he turns his phone off and sets it aside.

He's not sure he fully believes what's happening – he's in a World Championships final – until he's walking back onto the piste, new sword in hand, trying to get himself back under control. He's already come incredibly far just to be here, as his coach reminds him before the match starts. All he has to do now is his best.

The first two points go to his opponent: French, currently ranked second in the world to Joe's 16th, a nice enough guy on the few occasions Joe's had to meet him. One of them is simply skill, the other is an oversight on Joe's part, and when the bout resumes Joe grits his teeth and forces himself to concentrate. It's nothing he hasn't done before in training. He can do this.

The next point is his, a neat hit to his opponent's wrist just as the other is starting to attack. Joe dodges away before his opponent's hit can land and the referee calls halt. He gets two more, then loses one, then manages another at the very end, a point that initially goes to his opponent but is turned over when Joe's coach calls for a video review and wins. She's got a sharp eye for that kind of thing. The first round ends 4-5 in Joe's favour.

The break isn't long enough for him to do more than have a quick drink and talk briefly to his coach, but when he looks over at the area where the rest of his team is watching, Nicky is there too. He's out of his kit by now, wearing a plain black hoodie and jeans instead of his team jacket. He catches Joe's eye right before the minute is up and offers him a small, reassuring smile.

(The rest of the team have never really asked about what Nicky is to Joe, and Joe's never volunteered the information, even if he's fairly sure most of them have caught on. None of them have ever showed any overt approval or disapproval – it's just something they don't discuss – but the fact that they're letting Nicky sit with them now is a show of support that makes him feel… he's not quite sure, yet, and he doesn’t have the time now to think about it.)

The start of the second round is better for him, at least, and he gets three points up in the first 30 seconds, all three just slightly too quick for his opponent to catch him in time. It's his main strength, and he knows it. But then his opponent gets one, and it breaks Joe's rhythm enough for him to lose another, and another, and another. He manages to get four in the end, but loses the round 4-6. It could be worse. It could be much worse.

"Don't lose your head, Joe," his coach tells him during the second break. "This is just another bout, understand? You can do this." He nods, once, and his coach claps him on the back. "Get out there and finish this."

Joe changes sword for the last round, so they have to re-test. His heart is racing, enough that he has to take slow, measured breaths in an attempt to settle it down. His coach is right: this is nothing he hasn't done a thousand times before. If he doesn't think about the stakes, this could be any other bout.

They're at 10 to 9 going into the last round, which is much better than Joe had ever dreamed of doing. As long as he stays he's focused, he has a chance, and that's what he thinks about as he pulls his mask on and steadies himself.

He starts by feinting an attack to the head and dropping his blade at the last second to hit his opponent's flank instead, which evens out the score, at least. The second goes to his opponent, Joe's parry coming just too late to block the attack. But then he gets the next two, and he's in the lead.

On the fourth point, they both hit: Joe's certain it's his, but the referee awards it to his opponent instead. His coach calls for a video review that doesn't change anything.

The fight goes on until they're both at 14 points in total. Whoever gets the next one will win, and Joe – Joe can do this.

He starts out fast, careful to make sure he is the one with the right of way going into the attack, and his opponent lunges but Joe steps back just enough that the sword misses and then he ripostes before his opponent can recover, and the light goes off, and the referee calls it, and the bout is over, and Joe wins.

Behind him, the rest of his team is cheering; the stands are, too, more people than he's ever fenced in front of before. He's certain he's shaking all over as he takes his mask off, as he fumbles with his bodywire and has to try three times to get the damn thing unplugged – his opponent is still standing there as if in shock – eventually his coach comes over to the piste to help him with the wire and set his sword to one side before she embraces him, saying something he can't quite make out over the roar of the stands, and then the rest of his team are surrounding him, all speaking at once, all clapping him on the back and hugging him and laughing, and he's certain there are tears in his eyes.

Then Nicky's there, too, hugging him tight and laughing. "World champion, Joe!" he half-shouts just to be heard, and Joe's half laughing, half crying as Nicky sways them both back and forth. When Nicky pulls back, he cups the back of Joe's neck, and Joe wants to kiss him so badly he aches but he can't, not here with all these people watching, with the cameras that are almost certainly still focused on him, because he won – so Nicky pulls him back in again, kisses his cheek before stepping away completely but staying close.

Then Joe has to go so they can set up the stadium for the medal ceremony, goes from the chaos of the main stadium to the quiet of the changing room, where the rest of the team congratulate him again before leaving him to take a moment to himself before the medal ceremony.

Alone, in the changing room, Joe calls his mother.

She picks up on the second ring. "Yusuf!" she cries excitedly, and Joe smiles even though she can't see it.

"Mama," he says, voice shaking just a bit. "Did you see?"

"I saw, I saw," his mother says. "I'm so proud of you, habibi."

Joe almost starts crying in earnest at that, manages to hold it back just enough to be able to speak. They don't talk for long – Joe is called back out for the medal ceremony a few minutes later – but his mother makes him promise to call again soon, when they can talk properly.

Joe does cry at the medal ceremony, unable to properly hold it in anymore, must look like a mess when the national anthem starts, manages to just about compose himself enough for the picture they take of him with his medal and his Champion du Monde certificate which he barely manages to hold still, his hands are shaking so badly. The team surrounds him again after the picture, all talking over him too quickly for him to process what they're saying, but they let him go after a little while with a promise to celebrate properly tomorrow, when the tournament ends.

He stops off at his hotel room just long enough to shower and change and check his phone (just a text from Nicky, reading We're at Andy's – see you soon.) He leaves the certificate but takes the medal with him, knows they'll all want to see it. Andy's team is on the floor above his, so it doesn't take long before he's outside the door.

Nicky is the one who lets him in before Joe's even had a chance to finish knocking, grins at him widely and tugs him inside by the hand, kicks the door shut behind him. Before Joe even has a chance to speak, Nicky presses him back against the door and kisses him the way he hadn't been able to earlier, long and slow like they've got all the time in the world, one hand cupping Joe's jaw to keep him steady, the other slipping under Joe's shirt to rest on the small of his back. Joe melts into it, looping his arms around Nicky's neck, and it feels like forever they stand there and at the same time it's barely a heartbeat before Nicky pulls back but doesn't, letting Joe rest his head on Nicky's shoulder instead. He doesn't say a word when Joe starts crying again, just strokes his hand over Joe's curls, kisses his temple and holds him tight.

"I told you you could do it, didn't I?" Nicky murmurs. "You owe me, now."

It's true – he'd bet Joe when they both arrived in Cairo that this would be his year, finally. Joe laughs, and it comes out sounding a little like a sob.

Evidently, the grace period afforded to them by the others ends then, because Nile appears in the doorway to the rest of the suite and nudges Nicky out of the way before hugging him so tight he almost can't breathe. "That was incredible, Joe!"

"Thank you, thank you," Joe says, laughing. Nicky watches them both with a soft, fond smile as Nile pulls back and leads him by the hand into the suite's sitting room where the others are waiting: Quynh and Andy in one of the armchairs, Quynh perched on the armrest with Andy's arm around her waist keeping her steady; Booker on the other with Lykon sitting in the middle of the floor. Joe takes the couch amid the excited chattering of the others, and Nicky sits down beside him, lifting his arm to let Joe curl into his side without being asked. Nile sits on Joe's other side, resting her legs against his.

"We saw the whole thing," Quynh says. "That last point was beautiful, Joe." Andy nods her agreement, and Nicky squeezes Joe's hand. Joe's grinning so wide it hurts.

"Show us the medal, then," Nile says. Joe obliges.

It's Nile's second Worlds, this year: she's the newest addition to their group, having narrowly beaten Andy for the silver medal after making it onto the US team for winning the college league. She's one of the favourites to win in women's individual foil, even above Andy, and they'll all be rooting for her tomorrow. The US team's already taken bronze in the team competition, losing against Andy's team to make it to the final. She's doing well this year.

"We knew you could do it," Lykon said. "France didn't have a chance. No offence, Book."

"None taken," Booker says good-naturedly, but immediately negates it by adding, "We'll beat you tomorrow anyway."

"Like hell you will," Lykon says. "I already beat you once, old man, I'll do it again."

"And that's tomorrow's problem," Andy announces loudly to cut off any arguments before they get going. "Tonight is for Joe, you two."

Joe loves them all so, so much. Andy produces a bottle of sparkling grape juice from the suite's minifridge, because they don't drink alcohol in the group anymore, both for Joe's sake and especially since Booker's return. She pours it out into the shitty plastic champagne flutes from the pack she'd brought with her when they arrived, anticipating this very scenario, and hands each one of them a glass.

"To the new world champion, then," she says then, smiling as she lifts her glass. "We're proud of you, Joe."

Joe doesn't trust himself to speak, so he just smiles as the rest of them echo her before they drink. After, Nicky kisses the top of his head, whispers, "I love you," quiet enough that the others can't quite hear, already bickering about one thing or another, and in that moment Joe is the happiest he's ever been.