#you can wrestle my longass run on sentences from my cold dead hands

[escapingarchives]

thinking about Man in Glass and what if

there's a pause when they're running away after stealing the map where they're hiding, quickly, in a dark corner of the garden, until the nearest guard leaves

they're both panting from all the running (how Juno manages it in those heels is a mystery) and Nureyev turns back to face him, to tell him it's time to move.

oh. for a split second, Juno (brilliant Juno, heartbreaking Juno, a very different Juno) looks at his lips. Nureyev's running on adrenaline and danger, his composure rattled by what the detective has put him through tonight. He's high on the heist and how they work so well together. He's still deeply hurt, but in the whirlwind of emotions he wants-

well. maybe he lays a hand on Juno's chest, leans in a little and-

closes the distance to kiss him roughly, pushes him up against the brick wall of the corner they're hiding in. Juno's frozen for a second before he melts and kisses him back, hard. Nureyev's hand glides over his chest adorned in beautiful gold, across the open back of the gown and presses his fingers into the small of the detective's back. Juno makes a quiet sound, and Nureyev wants to drag more of those lovely sounds from him, moves to-

file away for future consideration.

"We need to go," Nureyev says instead, removing the hand he just laid on Juno's chest, tearing his eyes away from the detective's unkissed lips.

"...yeah," Juno replies after a beat. He hikes up the skirt of his gown, and then they're running again. Together.