#nicmargo

[fourteenfifteen]

DRIFTING

G // 1.1k // blaseball x pacific rim

The Jaeger program is looking for pilots. Margo Nava is willing, if they can even find a partner for xem.

read now on ao3

[glassgob]

[First image ID: Simplified digital illustration of Caleb Alvarado and Isaac Johnson. They are standing close to each other: Caleb’s wing around Isaac and Isaac’s arm around Caleb.

Second Image ID: Simplified digital illustration of Margarito Nava and Nic Winkler walking side by side. They are looking at each other, smiling. End ID.]

[waveridden]

considered for about five seconds that i should add a blaseball sections to my favs/otps page and then i remembered. 300+ characters

[stainedglassgob]

shuffling over to the boston flowers to offer them nicmargo

[thehallstara]

aaand fuck it nicmargo 23 ?

23. brushing strands of hair away

this is extremely short and sweet but lets go

"I really don't want to do this."

From across the room, Nic shouts, "It's not going to be that bad!"

“God, we really let her talk us into this, huh?”

Nic gives xem a wry grin. “I’d like you to try telling Dunn no.”

Margo sighs at xir reflection in the mirror, trying to adjust xir tie in a way that doesn’t make xem feel like xe’s choking. “We both know I wouldn’t be able to.”

“Exactly.” Nic gestures for xem to come over next to him, brushing a strand of hair out of xir eyes when xe does. “It’s going to be fine.”

“I hate bar hopping. Especially when I have to do it, not just deal with it.”

“So do I. It really is going to be fine, though. We can hang out with Brock and Bertie and be the old married people in the corner. And worst comes to worst, we’ll just leave early.”

Margo pulls a face at that.

“Oh, come on. She’s just going to be happy we came, you know that. That’s the part that matters.”

“I mean, as much as I’m dreading this, I’m not going to miss Dunn’s birthday.”

“Pretty sure she’d never forgive either of us.”

“Exactly.” Another sigh escapes before xe can stop it. “Okay, fine. Let me find some comfy shoes before we head out.”

“That’s the spirit!”

"And you're dealing with breakfast tomorrow."

"...Should have probably seen that coming, yeah."

[leonstamatis]

um kissing prompts ummm 5 but its nicmargo

5. on the temple

The trouble is, it’s not just the letters. It’s never “just” anything, Margo figures, not as far as the game goes. Just party, but only after losing so much you have no hope of success. Just gain a few stars, by attacking someone else. Just save people, except when you’re not fast enough.

Just lose a few letters… and all the memories, too.

And it isn’t permanent, that sort of hazy and confused look in Nic’s eyes whenever he sees xem. Margo knows that. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

So, at least for now, Margo sleeps on the couch. Xe gets up earlier most mornings than xe ever has. Xe walks to the kitchen, bleary-eyed and clumsy, and xe starts making breakfast and coffee. Anything that means xe doesn’t have to see Nic, startled and confused at having another person there.

Thirty-one days. Thirty-one days, and if the damn water had just washed him home a couple days sooner they wouldn’t fucking be here.

An egg cracks against a pan. The yolk sizzles as it hits hot oil. Margo watches it bubble and yawns into the back of xir hand. The clock on the counter reads 6:05, and the sky outside is the sort of hazy light that hits before sunrise.

“Never gonna get how you do it, Nic,” Margo mutters, to xemself and to the empty kitchen. “Fucking unholy being up this early.”

Xe throws a lid on the eggs and turns to scoop coffee into the base of the stovetop espresso maker. Nic would complain about it and ask xem to do drip coffee instead, if he were in his right mind. But he isn’t, so Margo doesn’t bother.

And, because xe knows xir husband, the food is on the table when the bedroom door creaks open. Margo is in the middle of pouring coffee into mugs when Nic appears in the doorway, rubbing at his eyes. He doesn’t even seem to see xem as he enters the kitchen.

Margo tries to be normal about it. Xe keeps xir eyes trained on the mugs, on the coffee, and doesn’t move as Nic moves to stand just behind xem.

“Mmf,” Nic groans, reaching over Margo’s head to grab a plate from the cabinet over xir head. As he falls back on his heels, he leans in to press a kiss to Margo’s temple. “Morning, Mags. You’re up early.”

And then he shouts and jumps backwards, probably because Margo’s coffee cup is overflowing onto the counter and spilling onto the tile floor near his feet.

“Shit,” Margo hisses. Xe frantically sets the everything down and turns to face Nic, hands coming up to brace against his chest as xe looks him over. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Hey, no, it happens—”

“Fuck,” Margo says again, emphatically, and it shuts Nic up immediately. “I’ll clean it in a minute, it— what do you remember? Do you remember?”

Xe sounds frantic, even to xemself. It’s unavoidable, though, and xe doesn’t even try to stop xir hands from running up and down Nic’s arms, holding his chin, tilting his head to the side. Looking for… something, xe doesn’t even know what.

“What?” Nic asks. “Did we get into a fight or something? I feel like I’d remember that, Mags.”

The noise that tears out of Margo at that is somewhere between a cough, a sob and a laugh; xe doesn’t really bother trying to figure out which one.

“Your memory isn’t what it used to be, Winkler,” xe says.

Nic’s brow furrows as he mulls that one over. The coffee is still spreading across the tile, and over the counter, and the food is getting cold on the table and this has to be one of the worst moments of Margo’s life. This waiting, this thirty seconds where the other shoe might come slamming back down.

“Oh,” Nic breathes out after a moment, eyes staring at something Margo can’t see. “Scattered.”

Even now, the word sets something in Margo’s chest buzzing. “Yeah. Scattered, Nic. For a while now.”

Nic still isn’t looking at Margo. It’s not the dazed, dissociative kind of avoidance that xe’s been trying not to get used to. It’s observational, taking in the state of their home.

“So you’ve been waking up before me,” he says. And then his eyes catch on something else. “And sleeping on the couch.”

“Couch isn’t so bad,” Margo offers. Xir voice comes out rougher than xe means, though, and there’s a burning behind xir eyes. “You get used to it.”

“Like hell,” Nic mutters.

He looks at Margo, finally, finally, and something in his confused expression softens. He wraps his arms around xem, pulling xem close to his chest. Margo lets him; it’s been a long time, xe’s allowed a little self-indulgence.

“I’m sorry, Margo,” Nic whispers. He presses another gentle kiss to Margo’s temple, then to xir cheek. “I’m sorry.”

Margo grips him back, maybe a little harder than necessary. “Yeah, well. You’d better be.”

[fourteenfifteen]

CURSES & FORECASTS

T // 1k // boston flowers

Margo Nava and xir team’s bad luck.

read now on ao3!

[waveridden]

i forgot that the author’s note on that nicmargo fic literally says “in my interpretation nic’s disability isn’t a superpower because that’s a problematic trope” i was in the fandom for all of four weeks and i was already shooting crossbow bolts at hornet’s nests

[waveridden]

nicmargo + rain

After everything, it turns out that it’s not Nic who hates getting caught in the rain, who curses when he steps in a puddle and water splashes up, who refuses to even go outside when it’s raining hard enough.

“It’s just water,” he says, and when Margo doesn’t react he adds softly, “It’s not gonna take me, Mags.”

“I know,” Margo says, voice thick; xe still doesn’t let go of Nic’s arm, but he doesn’t ask them to either.

[send me a prompt and i’ll write a 3-ish sentence fic]

[waveridden]

nicmargo and away games!

“Lots of things to do in Kansas City after the game,” Margo says, slinging an arm around Nic’s waist. “Barbecue restaurants, concerts, museums, I’m pretty sure there’s a zoo-”

“A perfectly good hotel room where we can lie down and watch movies,” Nic says, giving xem a pointed look.

Margo just grins and says “After,” like a promise, and Nic doesn’t particularly want to get barbecue or go to a museum but he grins back anyways, because it’s Margo.

[waveridden]

nicmargo, #1!

ways you said “i love you” → as a hello

Margo’s always been the morning person out of the two of them. There’s a rhythm to it now: Margo gets up early and puts the coffee on, and by the time Nic’s awake the pot is brewed. Margo goes to the gardens, and by the time Nic gets there xe already has everything set up for practice.

The thing is, though, Nic’s a night person, and sometimes an insomniac. There are rare nights where he can’t sleep, where he’s stuck awake trying not to think about Beck, about Nagomi, about Margo.

(And, okay, maybe there are better things to worry about. Margo and xir sister, they’re safe from incineration. Beck is too, for now. Maybe he should worry about himself. But he still worries about them, incessantly.)

So he’s awake. It’s nearly five in the morning and he’s sitting at the kitchen table, reading some shitty paperback when he realizes that Margo will be up soon. Nic doesn’t normally make the coffee, but he still knows how xe likes it.

When Margo stumbles out of the bedroom, bleary-eyed and yawning, there’s a macchiato waiting on the table. Xe looks at it and then turns to Nic, blinking. “Nic?”

“Morning,” he says, setting his book down on the table. “How’d you sleep?”

Margo hums and wanders over to where Nic’s sitting. Xe slumps over, still boneless with sleep, and rests xir chin on his shoulder. “Love you,” xe murmurs, voice still low and sleep-rough, and Nic is immeasurably fond. "You can wake me up if it happens again, you know.”

Nic pats the cover of his book. “I had company.”

“Yeah, but still.” Margo turns, lips just barely ghosting over the corner of Nic’s mouth. “You need to sleep sometime.”

Nic wants to say he can’t. Nic wants to say it’s not nightmares, nothing like that, it’s just the countless what-ifs, the endless anxieties, the siesta sprawling in front of them and all the time to get complacent. Nic wants to say that he feels better knowing that Margo’s safe, but at the same time all he can think about is the day when xe’s not - and that’s a when, not an if. He can tell.

“I’ll try,” he promises. Margo hums again and drapes an arm around his shoulders, and Nic tries to relax into it. 

[leonstamatis]

the nicmargo

big spoon/little spoon: ugh augh oh man. nic. he’s only like an inch or two taller which means they could switch but. they don’t.

favorite non-sexual activity: between the bar and blaseball and the garden they don’t really have a lot of free time! i think their favorite thing to do together is literally just watch tv at home or something. cooking is also pretty high on the list they both like cooking together but only if they have the energy for it.

who uses all the hot water: margo. nic showers in cold water for some godforsaken reason though so it works out. (“it’s better for you!” / “even if that’s true, and i’m not saying it is, you can’t go through life like that. it’s unnatural.”)

most trivial thing they fight over: anything. literally anything. it’s like lighthearted and no one is upset but there’s a list somewhere in the bar office of “things you can’t bring up during work hours or nic and margo will scare off all the customers.” it includes things like whether gazpacho is a smoothie.

who does most of the cleaning: nic. margo cleans up after xemself but when it comes to deep thorough cleaning nic is your guy.

who controls the netflix queue: nic prepares a list of options of things to watch and margo vetoes/approves them. it’s equality.

who calls up the super/landlord when the heat's not working: margo and xe’s a regular terror about it. nic sends baked goods as a thank you/sorry about my husband.

who steals the blankets: they both do this. their bed is a regular war zone of blanket thievery.

who remembers to buy the milk: they have to go shopping together because like, nic will remember the milk, but he’ll forget the specific spice margo needs for dinner that night. whereas margo will remember the obscure shit but assume, incorrectly, that they have all the basic necessities.

who remembers anniversaries: nic is better at it but margo REALLY tries it’s just that xe has so many fucking dates and obligations to remember.

who cooks normally: they trade off because they both really really like to cook both together and on their own.

what do they do when they're away from each other: please don’t separate them. they wouldn’t survive. (they’re fine they’re adults they can handle a weekend apart or whatever even if by the end they’re both very “i miss my wife, tails” about it.)

nicknames for each other: ANYTHING. EVERYTHING. margo calls everyone by their last name as a sign of endearment but it’s different to call nic by his last name because that’s also Margo’s hyphenated last name ykwim. husbands. and nic has full permission to call margo anything. mags, maggie, margo, nava, co-captain (affectionate). margo will sometimes go the opposite direction and call nic “Nicholas” to feign being upset.

what would they get each other for gifts: as a rule they don’t do gifts but it’s because they get pretty damn competitive. if nic gets a big gift for margo, margo gets tickets to Paris, and nic puts a down payment on a new house, it goes on and on. they had to be stopped.

who made the first move: nic waited for margo to do it. he fell first but he wasn’t going to scare margo off. margo got there eventually.

who cusses more: margo, but nic can get going if the right circumstances arise (the sportsball is not going his way)

what would they do if the other was hurt: augh. agh. oof. jesus. margo would be very melancholy and morose. nic would try his best to soldier through it but he would be STRUGGLING to keep it together. they aren’t criers but they could for this. god. ow.

[leonstamatis]

nicmargo 38!!! :D

38. relieved kisses

(CWs for dissociation, memory loss, and losing sense of time/space. All the Elsewhere stuff.Remember when Margo went Elsewhere in the postseason, two or so days before xe would have been stuck for an entire siesta? Mhm.)

Time stops, in the Elsewhere. And then Margo shakes xir head because, no. No, it doesn't. Time keeps ticking by and the world keeps turning. But it's less of an abject, planetary movement, and more like a carousel. Xe can feel it, under xir feet, and whenever xir eyes latch onto something it's like xe's already seen it. Like Margo did a circuit around an objective center that spins away, and came right back where xe started.

Xe shouldn't be thinking this way. Of course not. There were days, and those days had numbers, and if Margo didn't find a way to see through the slippery, slick, nothing that xe was stuck in, xe would be here for a long, long time.

Maybe xe already had been. It's not like the watch on xir wrist was working; the gears were just as caught up in the immateria as xe was, and there was no helping that just yet. Something for someone else to look over, once xe was back on solid ground. Somewhere green and bright and vibrant, unlike the dull gray fog that gripped at xem now.

Cory, xe thought. And that thought grew, and grew, until it was an avalanche of something in xir brain that xe could almost-quite-but-not make sense of.

Cory could look at the watch. Whoever Cory was.

"Well!" Margo said. The fog took the word from xir chest before it made it out. Xe watched it go, that little white ghost holding onto some part of xem. "Well."

The white fog floated forward. It drifted and parted and reassembled, and Margo didn't have much else to do but follow after it and do the same. Every breath stole something else from xir lungs, xir chest, and those little pieces gathered in front of xem until they were a cloud bigger than Margo xemself.

How long had it been? Margo checked xir watch, but it was full of brackish water. It didn't tick, even when xe pressed it to xir ear. Didn't matter much, anyway. Xe wandered on.

And xe wandered, and xe wandered. Until eventually xir toe bumped into something - and wasn't that weird? Having toes to bump into things? Margo had never thought about it before, but there they were. Toes, connected to xir feet and then to xir ankles and to the rest of xem, and now, through a shoe, they were touching the rough metal of a box.

"Directive complete," the box chirped. "Subject found."

Margo saw two eyes, white and shining. Xe saw a metal claw that might have been a hand, and it stretched out to xem through the clouds and fog and nothing.

It wanted to take part of xem away. All of xem, maybe. The fog didn't like that, and it whispered until the whispers were roars in Margo's own voice, xir own words spat back out louder and harsher than when xe spoke them.

"Captain," the little box said. "You have been found."

Margo didn't have much else to do, really. Xe reached out and grasped the claw between xir fingers - fingers! Strange that xe could feel those, too, pressing into the metal, and it was warm.

"Oh," Margo muttered, and there was no fog to take this word away. Nothing crept into xir chest, and nothing pulled a part of xem out.

The box lit up and began to chirp, and then wheels made tracks in the water that wasn't quite liquid, and Margo felt xemself being pulled along a pathway xe hadn't been able to see before. Xe could see it now - it looked like grass, dead and wilting, but it seemed to brighten as they went until it was finally green. Xe'd forgotten what that looked like.

The roar of xir own voice in the fog was replaced with the cheers and shouts of others, hundreds of them, loud enough to be a physical wave against xem. Still, Cory - and that's who the little box was, xe knew now, watching as the rover pulled them out of the pools of immateria and onto solid ground - pressed onward. Cory kept moving until they were both standing in the outfield, and then the infield, and then the dugout.

There’s water in Margo's ears. Xir hair drips onto xir forehead, down the back of xir neck, pooled in every wrinkle and bend of xir clothes. But xe doesn’t get much time to think about that; those feelings are replaced within moments by arms wrapped around xir shoulders, wide hands pressing into xir spine.

"Seeker sought," Cory chirps behind them both.

And Nic, of course it was Nic, breathes out a sigh so heavy he seems to crumple against Margo.

"Thank you, Cory," he says, and then presses his face into Margo's neck.

Margo blinks. Margo breathes, and lets the warm, late summer air move through xem, and slowly brings xir hands up to grip the fabric of Nic's jersey.

"How long's it been?" xe asks, barely above a whisper, the sound of cleats on gravel.

"Two days," Nic mutters. "Just two."

The weight of it comes back to xem. A postseason, final round of games, very nearly through to the next siesta. A thing that hadn't seemed like much, in the Elsewhere, but seems like everything now.

"Great," xe says, although that isn’t at all what xe’s feeling. Mostly, xe is tired. Mostly, xe is confused.

But Nic pulls back and holds xir face in both hands, looks xem over once, twice, and then presses a careful kiss to xir forehead. To xir nose, to both cheeks.

"Yeah," he says, "it is."

And then he kisses Margo, really kisses xem, and xe sighs and doesn’t mind that it feels like xir breath is stolen away.

[leonstamatis]

nicmargo + emotion of kitchens?

“We’re going to need to buy a hutch or something,” Nic says. The spread of glassware on the counter is a formidable thing, all still stuffed with paper towels and bubble wrap. “I really didn’t think this would be that much of an issue.”

“Nicolas,” Margo says, bumping him with xir shoulder, “we are both bartenders. If we didn’t have all the specific glassware, they’d revoke our credentials. It’s the law.”

Automatically, Nic puts an arm around xir shoulders, fingers brushing against xir collarbone. “We had plenty of time to at least sort out duplicates before the move.”

“We were busy with other things!”

Margo doesn’t specify what the other things were; Nic rolls his eyes and turns his head away, most likely to hide the fact he’s blushing. It doesn’t work.

[leonstamatis]

nicmargo + siesta

In comparison to everything else, the letters of his name come back easily. The scoreboard corrects itself long before Nic can bear to turn his hearing aids on, before he can bring himself to use his voice.

Not for the first time, Margo is relieved xe’d pestered Nagomi into teaching xem basic ASL over the Grand Siesta. Relieved, too, that there’s another break from the endless routine of games on the horizon.

In the meantime, Margo does what xe can, holds Nic’s hand whenever the water swirls too high around their legs and promises xe won’t let go again. In the meantime, they stumble through the door of their home soaked with the hazy rainbows of an oil slick, and Margo washes Nic’s hair until xir hands are pruned, and Nic holds xem so tight xir ribs ache in the mornings.

Siesta cannot come soon enough.

[leonstamatis]

nicmargo 48

48. a kiss out of habit

(this is the fae au im vibing and forcing it lmao)

The dance is in full swing now, all manner of creatures gathered under the floating lights. Vines are creeping down from the tree branches above and combing through hair, through gowns, leaving sparkling trails of green over everything. It is so, so beautiful, and Margo is so, so bored.

But Nic is here, and despite being incredibly human in all but upbringing, he’s smiling, at ease. That helps, for reasons Margo doesn’t bother to examine too closely.

“Dance with me,” xe says, impulsively. A familiar offer, an inevitability at this kind of event.

Nic hums, eyes drifting upward as he considers his options. “What if I don’t feel like embarrassing myself this evening?”

They both know Nic’s standing is more tenuous than Margo’s own. The benefits of being a human raised among the fae, the adoration and love, tends to fade upon the discovery of certain... faults. And despite his best efforts, Nic can only do so much to make up for hearing loss, for his inability to dance and sing the way the rest of the court does.

But Margo has never cared about any of that, not really. Xe’s hardly a beloved member of the court xemself; an Unseelie sister would do that to anyone. At least Nic talks to xem, at least they can both spend time together on the outskirts of it all.

“Fine, then,” Margo mutters, the same way xe does every time. Nic’s lips twitch as he holds back a smile. “Consider it a trade.”

“What do I get in return?”

This, though xe might never admit it, is Margo’s favorite kind of dance. The way Nic plays along and pretends he doesn’t know what’s about to happen, how they each say the same things every time to achieve the same ends and yet somehow it feels like something dangerous, something forbidden.

Margo leans in and presses a kiss to the corner of Nic’s mouth. It leaves his skin stained just faintly green, and when he turns his head to catch Margo’s lips with his own, it makes xir wings flutter just like always.

“There,” Margo says. “A trade. Pay your debt, human.”

“You,” Nic says, snatching the wine from Margo’s hand and pointedly taking a sip, “forgot to establish the terms of the agreement. I am not indebted to you, friend.”

“Will you dance with me anyway?”

“I always do.”