#swquser

It sounds dramatic when he says it, like he's overexaggerating, but it's true: Joe can't sleep without him.

Not well, at least. He sleeps curled around a pillow, just to be holding something, but it's not the same. Like that, he only manages a few hours at a time, and what little sleep he gets is fitful. He's been exhausted for days. It's like his brain recognises that there's something missing, something that he can't truly rest without.

Nicky had called yesterday, after almost a week of radio silence, having finally reached a place he could safely call from. Most of their conversation had been about the job, information that Joe had passed onto Andy after Nicky hung up, but Nicky had promised to be home soon. So Joe is waiting for him, having already finished his part of the job.

It shouldn't still be this way, really. They've been together for 900 years. Joe shouldn't still feel this unsteady whenever they're apart, and yet he does. He knows Nicky's the same way.

Joe's in the kitchen for now, baking just to have something to do with his hands, half focused on kneading the dough and half focused on wondering what Nicky's doing right now, if he's finished the mission already, or if he'll call tonight to say I'm sorry, tesoro, I need a few more days.

He gets his answer when the doorbell rings. Joe's heart skips a beat, even as he leaves the dough on the counter and reaches for the gun on the kitchen table. Better to be safe, after all.

He doesn't need it, in the end, because when he opens the door, Nicky is on the other side, looking just as exhausted as Joe feels. Joe sets aside his gun, his shoulders sagging with the relief of seeing him again, before pulling Nicky into the apartment and into his arms, tucking his face into the crook of Nicky's shoulder and breathing easily for the first time in days. Nicky kicks the door shut, or at least Joe assumes he does, before his arms circle Joe's waist to hold him just as tightly. They don't speak, not for a long time, just stand like that without even bothering to move properly into the apartment.

"Is it done?" Joe asks, his voice muffled.

Nicky's hand strokes along his spine. "Yes," he replies. "Andy and Nile?"

"Said they'd be back tomorrow," Joe says. They've all been apart for too long - it'll be good to see them again. Nicky hums, and something settles back into place.

"I missed you," he says softly. "I haven't been able to sleep, either."

Eventually, they part, albeit reluctantly. But they stay close: Joe finishes off the dough while Nicky sits at the kitchen table, looking half asleep. Once the dough is proving, Joe decides the rest of the world can wait for a while and offers Nicky his hand. Nicky takes it, smiling. Joe pulls him to his feet and leads him to their bedroom.

And when they lie down and Joe curls around his back, holding him tight, the last remnants of the tension Nicky had been holding disappear. Joe can't see his face like this, but he knows he's smiling.

we really don’t talk about these two enough

petty motherfuckers

esp petty with each other

oh sorry booker no i didnt know i left a knife on the bed or no nicky i wasnt aware those were your leftovers

nicky and booker butchering each other’s languages when they’re annoyed at the other, and some very americanized pronunciation of the word ‘croissant’ on nicky’s part

will argue about the dumbest shit ever and will go to extreme lengths to prove themselves correct which is how the team ended up in southern mexico so nicky could prove what color the safehouse walls are 

sorry nicky but joe agrees with booker that they are more green than brown, and no way he can argue with joe

consistently compete and feel the need to one up each other (hence the bets) and it’s resulted in many rules because andy is sick of their shit

one time they bet who would win in a race down the stairs of the eiffel tower, nicky tripped booker who promptly fell all the way down and died on impact

after an extremely loud argument in several languages they went again and booker won but nicky refuses to pay him because booker's height is an unfair advantage (its been 50 years)

if joe and booker are the worlds best bullshitters, nicky and booker are the "fuck around and find out” gang

when in a situation where they’re undercover and speaking to the mark and they get any kinds of suspicious, they immediately start complaining about them and their business, putting on extreme versions of their accents to really pull the ‘pretentious european’ vibe

popular topics: their clothing, nationality, that those aren’t mints in the bathroom, the fact that their mothers are probably disappointed in them

intimidation station

nickys stare + bookers size? no one dares fuck with them on the street

as ive said before, these two are responsible for every single stray that's ever ended up in their safehouses for the nights they are there and the ones responsible for the missing money which they use to leave food out for the rest of the strays

andy has definitely come home to them covered in cat fur as nicky is on bookers shoulders trying to get one of them off the top of the cabinet

italian vs. french rivalry is real

food, language, culture, it's all fair game to insults, yes booker has been called a crusty baguette and it started a war which resulted in no less than 15 insults being banned from being used

nicky probably tries to get booker to eat healthier, bc while nicky definitely appreciates fast food, booker you can't just eat fries and whiskey please eat a single lettuce

i like to think they cook together, i think booker is probably a good cook but it’s not something he does much anymore, not since becoming immortal really but nicky shared his love of cooking and occasionally they cook something together, finding old recipes from their homelands

covers booker with a blanket anytime he wakes up early to find him passed out half off the couch but also definitely takes a picture first 

NEON!!!! thank you so much for the prompt, i hope you like this silly little thing!! 💕💕

(As per your other ask lmao) Fluff 3 “Have you seen my hoodie?” “Noo.” “You’re wearing it, aren’t you?”

*

Nicky is convinced Nile would be proud that the first thing he thinks upon seeing Joe’s abandoned hoodie on the floor is: ‘It’s free real estate’. And he’s so proud of himself for making her proud that he takes a picture of himself in the hoodie like she has taught him (a ‘selfpic’ or something she called it), and sends it to her with exactly that caption.

As usual, Joe is still sprawled in the bed, lost in the land of dreams. After a fond, lingering look, Nicky slips out of the room. 

One coffee and some small chores later, Nicky is snuggled up on the couch, surrounded by Joe’s scent and engrossed in a book. But not so engrossed he doesn’t hear Joe wake up and stumble sleepily through their bedroom. He smiles inwardly, but keeps reading.

“Nicky?” Joe asks after five minutes of rummaging, walking into the living room. “Have you seen my hoodie?”

Nicky doesn’t even look up from his book. “No.”

A pause. Then, “You’re wearing it, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Joe comes to stand right in front of him, tugging on the hood Nicky has pulled over his head.

“This. That’s my hoodie.”

“Well, I found it on the floor, so now it’s mine.” Nicky loves the way the corners of Joe’s mouth twitch in a disbelieving but also very delighted smile. He can tell Joe likes the view.

“Would you let me shiver to death like this?” Joe asks, pulling his mouth into a pout now and rubbing his bare arms for good measure. 

“I thought I was the warmth when you shiver in cold, not this hoodie.”

Joe’s eyes turn positively mischievous and suddenly he’s climbing onto Nicky and crawling along into the hoodie.

“Yusuf, love of my life and center of my universe, what in God’s name are you doing?” Nicky asks and can’t help but laugh as Joe squirms on his belly. He can’t get further in than his head, though.

“Reclaiming what’s rightfully mine! And now stop laughing, you’re making it tighter.” 

“I can’t help it, it’s your beard. It tickles!”

Nicky can feel Joe grin against his skin and he knows something bad will happen exactly one second before Joe blows a raspberry right above his navel. If it was supposed to stop Nicky’s laughter, then Joe has done a very poor job.

But Joe is laughing as well, and after a soft kiss to Nicky’s skin, he comes out of the hoodie.

“Okay, you can keep the hoodie.” Joe tries to sound irritated but the twinkle in his eyes gives him away. “But under one condition.”

“Anything,” Nicky says, wiping the tears from his eyes in the aftershocks of his laughter.

“You’ll have to hold me every time I get cold.”

“Oh come here you,” Nicky says and pulls Joe into his arms, kissing his laughter onto Joe’s lips.

*

heres another one of these for you all

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary:

“I have a friend, stationed somewhere else. I would give anything to know he’s okay.”

“What’s his name?” Jack asks.

there is now more to this au!

[you are here (prologue)] [part one] [part two] [part three]

The window slides open with a creak, and Joe smiles without turning around. “We have a door, you know,” he says over his shoulder.

“Just keeping you on your toes,” Nicky responds. “I could've been anyone. You're getting careless, amore.” He closes the window behind him.

It's not true, and they both know it: there's a knife in his hand that he's using to cut vegetables for dinner and two more hidden in the kitchen, within easy reach, that Joe could have used if he thought Nicky was a threat. In the earliest days of their acquaintance, he would have. But he trusts Nicky now, and besides, Joe was expecting him.

Joe still doesn't turn around, but he hears Nicky pull off his mask with his usual muttered complaints about how uncomfortable it is and laughs.

“It's less funny when you're the one who has to wear it,” Nicky grumbles, but he's not really annoyed. Joe can hear him smiling.

Joe's missed him.

Two days after his first meeting with Di Genova, and with three days left of Merrick’s deadline, Joe wakes with a sense of looming dread. He still has no idea how he’s going to manage to bring Merrick the real paintings in three days, nor does he have any real way of escaping the situation - he doesn’t imagine Merrick will let him go that easily, even if he resorts to fleeing the country. 

A knock on his door draws him out of his thoughts. “Mr. al-Kaysani?” a voice asks. “I have your breakfast.”

Joe shakes his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts, takes a few breaths to steady himself, and answers. “Come in, please.”

Roberto pushes open the door, wheeling a trolley with a white tablecloth draped over it and a silver tray on top with him. He had been assigned by the hotel to assist Joe, but Joe’s barely seen him at all, and he barely speaks. 

“Thank you, Roberto,” Joe says. Roberto nods and leaves the room.

Joe lifts the lid from the tray to reveal a neat-looking plate of food that Joe barely notices, because placed carefully in front of it is a small piece of paper. They were fake, is all it says.

Joe picks up the note and flips it over. The back is blank, and the note itself is made up of cuttings from what Joe assumes are newspaper articles. There’s no identifying information, but there’s only one person who could possibly have sent it.

And Joe has a sneaking suspicion that that person may be much closer than Joe had thought.

okay everyone after approximately 482 years my second prompt for @yusufalkaysanibingo is done!!! i hope you all enjoy it!!

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary:

And so these are the three things he knows, when he cannot be sure of anything else:

...

the water is dark, and cold, and heavy.

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very slow writer finally finishes event fic that they started months ago, more at one

Rating: General

Summary:

They fight because they can, because they will walk away from death and others will not. But Joe wishes, sometimes, that they didn't have to.

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