Booker: I'm cold.
Copley: Here, take my jacket.
Nicky: I'm cold.
Joe: What? [Taking off jacket] I told you to bring more layers, but of course you didnât listen and now [Piling scarves on him] now look, Iâve got to make sure you donât freeze to death! And [Taking somebody elseâs hat] how long have you been cold? You shouldâve said something sooner!
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5k fluffy love confessions with witty humor and happy crying
400k monsters set in the hot bowels of italy, where they just stare at each other but never touch or say anything ever and there is no such thing as âhappy cryingâ.
I have named Bookerâs sons. The oldest, with the glasses, is 11 y-o Guillaume, who likes soccer, is dyslexic and has a permanent cowlick at the back. Flopping over like a drama queen is 9 y-o Arno, who stayed up too late watching streamers on youtube and Iâm Gonna Die, Papa, Iâm So Tired and likes dancing and soccer both. In between is 6 y-o Jean-Pierre, who is Very Loud and Very Enthusiastic, until he gets tired and then heâs basically a koala bear.
Only Copley is allowed to call him JP, and only he is allowed to call Copley âJamieâ. Theyâre very close.
(Thank you @anxiousandterrible and @caitlesshea for enabling me I love you)
Booker jumps about a half foot in the air and almost falls off the couch at the sound of his phone ringing. Itâs been months since anyone has contacted him, so long that he was beginning to wonder why he even kept it charged.Â
In some self sacrificial moments he thought about changing his number so they couldnât contact him, tricking himself into thinking they would.Â
He fumbles forward and goes to answer when it blessedly stops ringing. Just because it takes an insane amount of alcohol for him to get drunk doesnât mean he hasnât spent the last couple of months trying.Â
Just as he lays back down on the couch it rings again and when he goes to answer it his stomach sinks.Â
Copley.Â
âWhat?â Booker growls into the phone and the voice on the other end just sighs.
âHow soon can you get to London?â
âWhy? Is Andy?âÂ
âEveryoneâs fine.â
Booker releases a breath he didnât know he was holding and rubs his forehead until he calms down.
âThen why?â
âLondon. How long?â
Booker holds his phone in front of him, trying to figure out the time and what day it is.
âGive me a couple of hours.â
âFine. You remember how to get to my place?â
âHow could I forget?â Booker responds dryly and heâs only slightly disappointed when Copley doesnât say anything back.Â
âDo you need anything? Money?â
Booker swallows at the softness in Copleyâs voice. Theyâve always had a friendly enough relationship, one doesnât get to the point of asking someone to help you end it all without being somewhat close. They always understood each other in that regard.
âThatâs the last thing I need. Iâll see you tonight.â
Booker hangs up before Copley can say anything and he smiles as his email pings with a train ticket to London and a rental car reservation.Â
He takes one last look at his shitty apartment and grabs the duffel bag heâs had packed since he first got to Paris.Â
At the last minute he picks up the copy of Don Quixote that Andy gave him and shoves it into his bag before grabbing his keys and his current passport, a French one, for once.Â
Something about being exiled for a hundred years makes him want to be sentimental. And drunk. But he figures he can drink on the train.Â
In what feels like no time at all heâs pulling up to Copleyâs weirdly modern house in the outskirts of London. Booker tries not to think about what Copley could possibly want, especially considering he dragged Booker to London for it. Before he even turns off the engine Copley is outside waiting for him.Â
âYou made it.â
âVery astute of you.â
Copley rolls his eyes and Booker follows Copley into his house, setting his bag down on the couch.Â
âGonna tell me why Iâm here?â
âI need your help.â
âMy help?â Booker asks as Copley hands him a glass of scotch.Â
Booker looks around Copleyâs office, weird detective board still firmly in place, and waits for Copley to answer.Â
When it seems like Copley isnât going to say anything anytime soon, Booker walks over to the board, heart clenching at seeing Andyâs, Nickyâs, and Joeâs faces reflected back at him.
âNone of me?â
âYou told me you were immortal. I didnât really need to do any research on you.â
âMmm.â Booker swirls the drink in his glass and smirks.
âCouldnât figure out my real name could you?â
Copley smiles and Booker shakes his head as he laughs.
âYouâre very good.â
âOh, I know.â
Copley smirks at him and Booker feels himself relax for the first time in months.
âSo, my help?â
âThereâs a job.â Copley hands him an iPad and Booker looks it over. âAndy agreed, but I need supplies and I donât want to put them on the radar of any of my contacts.â
Booker raises an eyebrow at that and he swears he can see regret in Copleyâs eyes.
âJoe and Nicky can get them. They know who we used.â
âJoe and Nicky?â
âJust because theyâre super old doesnât mean they canât use a computer.â
âBut Andy?â
âOh, yeah, Andyâs terrible.â Booker walks over to sit in one of the chairs as Copley takes the other. âBut Joe and Nicky arenât half bad and Iâm sure Nile is even better.â
âNile. A millennial she is.â
Booker laughs and hands back the iPad. âShe giving you trouble?â
âShe just wants to have social media, wants to see her family, the usual.â
âWell, Nicky and Joe have an Instagram.â
âThey what?â Copley looks like his eyes are going to bug out of his head and Booker rolls his eyes as he opens his phone.
âNot in their names or anything. Itâs one of those coupleâs accounts. They never show their faces and Nicky thinks heâs funny, posting old photos of them, making people think itâs a filter instead of a yellowed Polaroid.â
âJesus.â
âJust give Nile some ground rules.â
âAnd the family part?â
âAh, yeah, I donât know if Iâm the best person to ask.â
âWhy?â
Booker looks up at Copley and realizes heâs genuinely curious. Booker takes a moment to spin his wedding ring that he stills wears and notices Copley still wears his as well. It makes something clench in his chest that he canât really describe.
âNothing good will come from her seeing them.â Booker ends up saying quietly and Copley nods.Â
Booker doesnât know what to do with the look on Copleyâs face. Itâs not pity, or even understanding, but itâs something close, and that makes his heart hurt.Â
âHere.â Booker emails Copley the contacts and supplies heâd use for this mission and he waits for Copley to read it before getting up to leave.
âStay.â Copley says as Booker walks past him. âFor dinner I mean, and you can go back to Paris tomorrow.â
âDinner.â Booker says, even though he packed for at least a week, and doesnât want to look too closely at why he doesnât want to leave.
âYou cook?â Copley jokes. âYouâve had what, two hundred years to learn?â
âNice try.â Booker walks into the kitchen with Copley behind him and takes a seat at the bar as Copley pulls out some food.
âAre you ever going to tell me how old you are?â Copley asks as he cuts up some veggies for what looks like a stir fry. âNone of you have, actually.â
Booker swallows roughly at the mention of everyone else and he wishes he refilled his scotch before coming out here. One appears in front of his view and Copley gives him a wry smile.
âWe donât really talk about these things.â
âWhat things?â
âYou know.â Booker waves in the general direction of Copleyâs office. âImmortality, with anyone whoâs notâŠâ
âAh.â Copley nods and throws the veggies and chicken he pulled out of the fridge into a wok.Â
âWhat?â
âNothing.â Copley turns to look at Booker and Booker canât explain it but he feels seen like he never has before. âDoesnât that get lonely?â
âI think you know the answer to that already, James.â
Copley nods and they sit in companionable silence while the food cooks. Booker wishes he had more to say, but the sting of losing his friends, his family, sits heavy in his throat.Â
Thereâs no Nicky to bet if Andy will guess all the flavors in the latest baklava. Thereâs no Joe to watch football with and cheer for any team whoâs wearing the color green because âNicolĂČâs eyes.â Thereâs no Andy toâŠ
Heâs brought out of his musings by Copleyâs shout.Â
âThey have almost a million followers!âÂ
Booker canât help it, he throws his head back and laughs, really laughs, for the first time in months.Â
~~~Â
Booker was supposed to go home the next day. But itâs been almost three weeks and he hasnât left.Â
Itâs not that he wants to stay, thatâs a lie, but Copley keeps asking for help on jobs or how to deal with the team and Booker, the martyr, canât stop himself from asking for more information.Â
Itâs not like he canât figure out where they are. He helped them disappear in the world for almost two hundred years, he knows how they operate, but that feels a little too invasive, even for him.Â
âThey want to take a break for a little while.â Copley sits down next to him with coffee and passes one to Booker.
Thatâs another thing. Booker isnât drinking as much and his flask is in his bag. Copley brings him coffee, tea, water. Almost anytime Booker sees the man drinking something, he brings something for Booker, as well. Booker knows itâs a tactic to get him to stop drinking as much, but he finds that he doesnât care.Â
âThey do that.â
Copley just looks at him and Booker is reminded of the CIA Agent he met nearly nine years prior.Â
âWhen youâre as oldâŠâ Booker smiles at Copleyâs look of interest. âNice try. But breaks are good. And Nile is still new.â
âWhen will she stop being new?â
âWhen Andy thinks sheâs ready.â
âFor?â
âHonestly? Probably never now that AndyâsâŠâ
âMortal?â
Booker swallows and looks up at Copley. The storm brewing in his own eyes is met with a compassion he doesnât deserve. He looks away before he does something ridiculous like cry but not soon enough for Copley to notice.
âBooker.â Copley breathes deeply, almost like it pains him that Booker is hurting. âHow long is your exile?â
âA hundred years.â
âA hundred years?â
âYeah.â Booker doesnât even realize heâs saying the next part until Copleyâs gasp. âA third of my life.â
âA third? So youâre two hundred?â
Booker sighs and figures if the man is letting him live in his house then he might as well be honest with him.Â
âI turned two hundred and fifty this past May.â
âTwo hundred fiftyâŠâ Copley trails off with a look of concentration. âSeventeen seventy?â
âGot it in one.â
âWell, shit.â
Booker laughs at the look on Copleyâs face. âYou have a board of over a hundred and fifty years of photos of us and my actual age surprises you?â
âWell yeah, especially considering youâre the baby.â
âI am not the baby.â Booker glares at Copley without heat.
âRight. Right, itâs Nile. Youâve definitely got middle kid syndrome.â
âI resent that.â
Copley shrugs and itâs such an odd thing for him to do that Booker smiles.Â
âForty two.â Booker says unprompted.Â
âHuh?â
âIâm forty two, give or take a few years.âÂ
Copley turns his head to the side like heâs studying Booker and likes what he finds. âIâm forty three.â
âI know.âÂ
Copley rolls his eyes. âSo how did you die?â
âThe first time?â
Copley nods and Booker thinks about telling him the glorified version of the truth or the actual truth and finds that he actually wants to tell him.
âArmy deserter, fighting with Napoleon.â
âHuh?â
âWhat?âÂ
âNothing, just donât see you as an army guy.â
âIt was the thing to do.â
Copley raises an eyebrow at him and Booker sighs.Â
âAlright fine, I was a forger, got caught, sent to warâŠâ
âBooker.â
Booker shakes his head. âIt wasnât the last time I saw my family, although...â
âFamily?â
âWife, three sons.â Booker spins his wedding ring, watching as Copleyâs eyes follow the movement.Â
âI neverâŠâ
âMy youngest son died at forty two, cancer. I can still remember everything he said to me, screaming that I wouldnât share my gift with him to help him.â
Booker startles as Copleyâs hand comes down on top of his own, squeezing tightly.Â
âIâm sorry.âÂ
Booker turns his hand over in a moment of bravery and squeezes back.
âIâm sorry, too.â
Copley sits back for a moment, seemingly contemplating something, then shakes his head as he gets up to grab a binder on his desk.
âWhat are you?âÂ
âHere.â
Copley places the binder down on the table and Booker looks at it like it might bite him.
âWhatâs this?â
âOpen it.â
Booker opens it and sees pages of photos of himself. The photos that should be on the wall with the others.
âSo you did have photos of me?â
âJust those and the few that are already on the wall. Youâve been with them a long time.â
âNot that long.â
âLonger than most people will ever get.â
Booker nods at that, thinking back to the time he had with his family, the time Copley had with his wife. It makes his heart hurt, when he thinks about everything heâs done.
Copley smiles and the way it lights up his whole face is beautiful. The thought stops Bookerâs heart for a moment, but then he lets it wash over him. For once, his attraction to someone else doesnât feel like a betrayal.
Booker should really admit that heâs not leaving Copleyâs house. Theyâve traveled to a few places and Bookerâs taken a couple of solo jobs and gone to some of his safe houses to get some of his things but itâs been three months of him living with Copley and helping him with the team's jobs and he can feel himself slipping into a dangerous normalcy.Â
You can also cut the tension between them with a knife. Booker doesnât think heâs ever wanted someone as badly as he wants James Copley, but here he is three months into the first solid home heâs had in over two hundred years, and all he wants is Copley.Â
Which is to say, heâs a little miserable. He canât mess this up. He canât mess up the one friendship thatâs become as vital to him as breathing, he canât mess up the chance to help his family, even if they donât know it, and he canât mess up the chance to spend at least some of his hundred year exile with this man.Â
Bookerâs trying to figure out how to at least see if Copleyâs interested in maybe making their relationship something more when he hears a loud crash from the kitchen.Â
âShit.â
âYou okay?â Booker looks around at the mess in the kitchen, a little shocked to see any part of the house in such disarray.Â
âYeah, sorry. I was looking for something.â
âWhat?â
âA cookbook. My wifeâs.â
Bookerâs heart seizes at the mention of Copleyâs wife. Itâs not that they havenât talked about her, hell Bookerâs seen more pictures of her than heâs ever seen of another person, but something twists in his gut, burning hot like jealousy, and he hates it.Â
âWhat were you trying to cook?â
âHuh?â Copleyâs looking around frantically and not really paying attention and Booker puts his hand on his arm to stop him.
âJames.â
Copley looks at him and visibly relaxes as Booker bends down to look in the cabinet Copley was cleaning out.Â
âYou donât have to.â
âI want to.â
Booker finds what he thinks Copley is looking for and stands up to hand him a small book that has pretty cursive writing on the front.
âHere.â
Booker looks into Copleyâs eyes as he takes the book. Their hands brush and Booker swears the butterflies he feels make him feel like a teenager again, which is honestly impressive.Â
It only takes a second, and then Booker is surging forward and kissing Copley, who drops the book and wraps his hands around Bookerâs waist.Â
Booker reluctantly breaks the kiss when the need to breathe becomes too much. He looks into Copleyâs eyes and is pleased to see a similar look of want reflected back at him.Â
âWhat are we doing?â Copley whispers as Booker presses up against him and pushes them into the counter.Â
âWhatever you want.âÂ
Copley takes that as an invitation and he surges forward, Booker grabbing onto his hips to stop the momentum as he feels Copleyâs tongue seek entrance into his mouth.
Booker gets so lost in the kiss, so lost in pulling Copleyâs shirt from his pants and undoing the buttons to his shirt that heâs pretty sure heâs never been kissed like this before, and thatâs saying something.Â
Before Booker gets what he really wants, which is Copley somewhere horizontal, Copley breaks the kiss with a shout.
âShit.â
âWhat happened?â Bookerâs looking frantically at Copley. âJames!âÂ
âCut myself.â Copley looks at him as he pulls his hand in front of him to show the bleeding the knife that was on the counter behind Booker caused.Â
Booker helps him bring his hand under the water as he grabs a towel. As soon as the blood washes away Booker turns his hand over looking for the cut and doesnât see any.
âWhereâd you cut your hand?â
âI, I donât know.â Copleyâs looking at his hand like heâs never seen it before and Booker doesnât think, he just grabs the knife and slices Copleyâs hand again and then his own.
Booker canât help it, he kisses Copley like heâs never going to be able to again, as he reaches over and turns off the light.Â
~~~Â
Morning comes all too soon and Booker hates it. This sanctuary heâs built, his home, according to James, is about to be overcome with people who hate him.
âI can meet them somewhere else.â Copley says as if he can read Bookerâs mind. Wouldnât that be something.Â
âNo. Theyâre probably almost here anyways.â Booker would know, as he broke his own vow and tracked them, just so he knew how much time heâd need to prepare.
âDo I even want to know?â
âNo.â Booker smiles and Copley leans down to kiss him just as the doorbell rings.Â
Booker holds tighter to his coffee cup as Copley lets them in and for the first time in almost a year heâs looking directly at Nile, Andy, Joe, and Nicky.
âBooker!â Nile says delightedly as she practically skips over to hug him. He sinks into the hug, grateful to at least not have burned this bridge.
âHey, Nile.â
Nile pulls back and Booker looks over to Andy, who looks the same, if not well rested, and he hugs her, too.
âBook.âÂ
Book squeezes her again as he steps back. Booker looks at Joe and Nicky, who stand formidable and together but with their heads tilted to the side like theyâre trying to figure something out.Â
âDid you dream of Copley, too?â Nile asks him and before Booker or Copley can answer Andy gasps as she looks across the living room.
Everyone turns toward her and Booker instantly realizes what sheâs looking at and so does Copley. Itâs Bookerâs copy of Don Quixote that Andy gifted him last year.Â
But thatâs not all, no, sheâs going to notice Bookerâs boots by the door, his laptop on the table, his sunglasses and motorcycle helmet on the shelf. It looks like he lives here, because he does.Â
âYou didnât just get here today, did you?â Joe asks him as Andy looks at him smiling.Â
âNo.â Copley answers as he comes up to Booker and places a hand on the small of his back.Â
Booker canât help it, he leans into the touch and turns towards Copley to give him a small smile.Â
Booker chances a look back at the others and feels warm at the sight of Nile, Andy, Joe, and Nicky all smiling at him.Â
Nicky walks over to him and pulls both Booker and Copley into a quick hug.Â
How did you manage to describe my exact headcanon for Booker/Joe/Nicky and present Booker/Copley ? Are you spying on my thoughts? đ
I love that dynamic haha (also Iâm a lowkey - no HIGHKEY - Booker/Copley shipper in my spare time that Iâm not shipping the OT3)
I just... It makes sense.
OT3 rules my heart, but Bopley has some really sweet potential. I do think that they could help each other become better people.
For example, Joe says: "You better treat him right, or else. Also, make sure to give him plenty of cuddles, he gets nightmares." And Nicky: "This is a list of his favorite movies. And remember, my sword is always sharp."
And Copley is just there taking notes and fearing for his life. Blissfully ignorant Booker is making Nile coffee and Andy is getting too old for this drama, but Quynh finds it hilarious.
I need a fic like this, like burning.
(*Slides bribery towards you. I just love your smut, okay? All Day Long was perfect)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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âIâm happy for you, Yusuf,â Booker says, because he means it despite the ache, and Joe smiles, nodding, and heâs smiling in a way that makes his heart hurt even more.
âWe love you, Booker,â Joe says because heâs just that person, before driving off as Booker makes his way up to his apartment, steps feeling like lead.
He makes the point to check the mail, and heâs not even sure why. Heâs never checked mail before, Joe usually did. Booker pauses then, looking at the different ads he pulled out of the box after twisting the key.
So many changes already.
When he finally gets to his unit, he finds someone standing at the door. They turn when he pauses, and greets him with a smile.
âHello Booker,â James Copley says, giving him a two-finger salute. âYou havenât aged a day.â
***
or where Bookerâs best friend Yusuf moves out to be with his Nicolo, and he makes the choice to live alone for the first time in years. Booker tells himself heâll be fine, tells everyone that heâll be fine, even though the weight in his chest tells him otherwise. but he really has no choice. this is his life now.
then James Copley comes home.
***
written for @pekoh â€
***
features: bopley w/ a side of joenicky, Â joe & booker bffs, and nicky really giving a damn to what happens to bookerÂ