Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They were all crammed into the living room of the lodge in the Polish countryside when it happened. Booker had been getting up periodically to add some more wood to the fire as he was always the first one to notice when the temperature started to dip. He had just settled into his space next to Nile by Nicky’s head and dozed off for the fourth time that night when the dream came.

All at once his senses were assaulted in a way he’d only ever experienced once before and had selfishly hoped he’d never have to feel again. He went from shivering at the chill coming in under the nearby doorway to burning hot, like someone had suddenly thrust him into an oven. When his eyes snapped open in the dream he saw the bleary light of dawn even through the sand grinding in his eyes. There was gunfire from every direction and the sound of far off bombings but the loudest thing was the rushing of blood in his ears and the gasping of his breath as he scrambled to claw at his chest where a camouflage jacket was being overtaken by blood. Faintly he heard somebody else nearby, panicking by the sound of it and then there were hands at his chest, trying to stop the bleeding between muttered prayers and pleas.

“Sebastien!” The cry of his name thrust him back into reality as his eyes snapped open wide and he struggled to catch his breath. He found himself feet away from the others with his back pressed against the nearest wall. Two smaller hands were working his own open from where they were fisted in his shirt. He looked up to find Quynh kneeling in front of him, a sympathetic smile on her face as she gently squeezed his hands.

“You’re alright, Bastien. Take a deep breath,” she said softly and Booker belatedly processed her words, forcing a deep breath out and then back in, repeating until the ringing in his ears had stopped. Once he seemed to have collected himself, Quynh leaned in and pressed a kiss to his forehead before patting his cheek and sitting back.

“Check in with Joe if you remember anything, okay?” She prompted him gently before getting up and going to join the others where they were huddled around Joe’s sketchbook by the light of the fire. Right. They had to piece it together now if they wanted to find the newest member of their exclusive club. Booker took a few more moments before shakily getting to his feet and shuffling over to see how far the others had gotten.

Watching the pen move in Joe’s hand, Book peered down at the page to see what clues were scribbled in the margins. ‘Hot, dry climate. Desert probably?’ ‘Mid 30s? Male.’ ‘CoD: shot(s) to the chest.’ But it was the face taking shape on the page that drew Booker’s interest though. Just like when Nile joined them, Booker didn’t get a good look at his face, experiencing most of the dream through the other immortal’s eyes. The man had a thick, dark beard that seemed well looked after and a shaved head. His almond eyes seemed dark, but that could just be the fact that Joe only had a black ballpoint pen to work with.

As he glanced over the page again, he frowned when he realized no one had mentioned what seemed like a pretty important detail. So Booker tapped Nicky on the shoulder to get him to look up from where he was sitting on the floor next to Joe.

“Did I miss you talking about ethnicity, nationality, or language?” He signed as he held Nicky’s gaze, only to be met with a furrow of Nicky’s brows and a puzzled expression.

“No, why? Did you catch something?” Nicky asked carefully and Booker pursed his lips. Just the thought was enough to make him nauseous, so he closed his eyes as he signed his response, only to open them and be met with more than one lost face staring back at him. Ugh, none of them had learned their country names yet it seemed. Which left Booker to sigh and spell out the answer.

“He’s Russian,” Nicky repeated back to him and Booker gave him a firm nod. Joe’s eyes darted between them before he jotted it down next to the rest of his list.

“Did you hear anything more specific that might help?” Nicky prompted and Booker frowned, running a hand through his hair. Had he? He had to stop and replay the end of the dream a few times before he was able to confidently answer.

“S-A-S-H-A,” he spelled out for Nicky, who relayed it to Joe. “Spoken like it’s his name, not someone else’s.”

“Thank you, Booker,” Nicky smiled up at him. “Anything else to add?”

Booker paused to think before nodding. “Four shots, no vest. It was dawn. Probably looking at Syria.'' He took the time to spell out ‘Syria’ for Nicky’s benefit. Once he was confident that he wasn’t going to be any more help, Booker ventured off to find a quieter corner to take up residence while everyone came off the adrenaline high of the first dream. He knew he wasn’t dressed properly, but nonetheless he toed on his boots and trudged out the back door to the small deck overlooking the yard, which was really just a small patch of grass that turned into forest. The brisk cold was a welcome change from the stifling heat of the desert he’d felt through the dream for not the first time.

He folded his arms and rested them on the railing as he watched the snow gently fall around the house. A small part of him regretted not grabbing his jacket on his way out, not just because of the cold, but because that’s where he’d last left his cigarettes and lighter. What he could really use right now was a bottle of whiskey, but that was out of the cards. His flask had been sitting empty in his go bag since he rejoined the team. Though it was times like these that he genuinely questioned if that was for the better or not. He knew it was better for him and for everyone around him when he wasn’t drinking, but in his defense, he was a lot better off when he wasn’t having dreams of other people dying too.

Booker was just beginning to consider lying in the snow for a good shock to the system when the door opened behind him. He didn’t bother looking up to see who had been sent to collect him, but he got an answer pretty quickly as Nile’s arms wrapped around him from behind and she rested her head between his shoulder blades. He just stood there, breathing in sync with her for a few moments before carefully turning around in her arms and pulling her close against his chest. He knew there would be a lecture after this that would just be thinly veiled concern on Nile’s part, but for now, they didn’t need words. Booker tilted his head down to press a kiss to the top of her head and just hugged her tightly. It was only when she shivered that he reluctantly pulled away from her and cocked an eyebrow which only made her frown up at him.

“If I’m cold, you’ve got to be freezing. So why don’t we take this inside, yeah?” Nile said and didn’t wait for a response, just taking Booker’s hands and pulling him back inside with her. He tensed when he noticed the four sets of eyes that focused on the two of them as they shuffled through the kitchen. He pulled his hands from Nile’s and ducked his head to avoid their gazes as he passed by. He was rummaging through his duffel bag in the living room when Nile stopped beside him and let out an exasperated sigh.

“Hey, come on, can we talk?” She asked quietly and Booker pursed his lips. He looked up at her as he tucked his phone in his pocket and pulled his headphones around his neck.

“You can talk if you want and I’ll listen. But not here,” he replied and gestured around them. Instead he straightened up and started for the stairs that led to the two unheated bedrooms upstairs. He tried to ignore the way the others fell quiet as he passed them, but it was difficult when Andy called out to him and told him to wait.

He could hear Nile placating Andy with empty reassurances before she started up the stairs after him. Booker made himself at home on one of the thin mattresses in what was traditionally his and Andy’s room in the summer months. He grabbed the old afghan from its place at the foot of the bed and wrapped it around his shoulders just as Nile stepped through the door.

“I recommend you grab one too,” he signed and indicated the blanket at the end of the other bed. Nile took his advice and grabbed her own blanket before plopping down next to him, sitting close enough that her thigh was pressed against his and she could lean against him if she wanted. Booker hesitated a moment before shifting to face her a bit more before she could start talking.

“I’m sorry I was no help with your first,” Booker started before pausing, frowning as he struggled to come up with an apt term for what they just went through. “Experience?” He tried and gave her a small, tired smile. Nile rolled her eyes and elbowed him lightly.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” she sighed and pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “Is it always like that though? Is it always that, I don’t know, real?”

Booker nodded and paused before shrugging. “I think so, but my only other one has been yours and that was not much better. No offense.” Nile shuddered at the memory and nodded in understanding.

“Fair enough. Are you planning on staying up here for a while?” Nile asked and glanced over at him and Booker hesitated barely before nodding. “Listening to music?” Booker nodded again. “You mind if I stay and try to get a bit more sleep before we need to pack up?”

Booker cracked a small grin and shifted over to make space before holding his arms open for Nile to snuggle up. Nile smiled brightly before lying down next to him and wrapping the two of them in her blanket as she cuddled up close to steal his warmth. Booker just slid his headphones into place and put on his cool down playlist before wrapping an arm around Nile and getting comfortable.

Chapter Text

On their journey to Syria, Booker was able to pull up some more details about the prior day’s ambush. It seemed that the man they were looking for was Aleksandr Kozlov, a 33-year-old junior sergeant, originally from an autonomous region of western Siberia. According to the files Booker dug up, he was a decent shot and had some level of training in handling explosives which would be helpful considering that, at the moment, Booker was the only other one with an understanding of modern explosives.

When they finally arrived at the safehouse, an old, two-story stone building in the foothills of the Lebanese countryside close to the border with Syria, plans were in the works to figure out who would be best suited for the retrieval. They’d found out that Kozlov had been transported to Damascus which was only about an hour from where they would be staying for the next few nights. It took a lot of arguing on just about everyone’s part about who should go to Damascus and who should stay back to come to a decision. In the end they decided to send Joe and Nile for their ability to speak Russian and be relatable, respectively. After all, Nile was only a few years older than the new immortal.

So that left Andy, Quynh, Nicky, and Booker to kill time and clean up the house while the others were gone. It didn’t take too long to dust everything off and put new sheets on the beds, in fact it was a lot quicker than Booker would’ve liked. He was anxious both for the arrival of the new immortal and also because Joe and Nile were gone. For a while his nervous energy translated to pacing back and forth between the kitchen and the living room, looking for something to do. There was no tv and the internet connection was shit out here so he couldn’t very well distract himself how he normally would by watching old matches or how-to videos on youtube.

“At this rate you’ll wear out your shoes by dinner,” Nicky commented from the couch where he sat reading a book.

Booker scowled and shot him a look, which he had hoped to be intimidating but judging by Nicky’s sad smile he returned, it just came across as exhausted.

“I’m going to go see what we still have in the shed,” he signed and just got a hum of acknowledgement from Nicky as he swiped the radio from the kitchen counter before trudging out to the dilapidated shed behind the house.

If he remembered correctly, there should be a pair of dirt bikes in addition to the gardening supplies and hidden ammunition. Well, assuming they hadn’t been stolen by now. After all, it had been half a century since they’d last stayed here. But lo and behold, there they were when he wrenched the rusty doors open, looking to be in decent shape, all things considered.

So Booker spent the rest of the afternoon working on the bikes and cleaning them up while listening to a mix of Eastern European and American rock on the radio. As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, Booker was confident that both the bikes were back in working order as the beat-up old truck Nile and Joe took earlier came rumbling up the dirt driveway. He straightened and wiped the grease from his hands on a rag as the three of them piled out and Nile broke into a grin as she waved.

Booker wiped his hands on a rag as he nodded back to her in acknowledgement, doing his best not to flinch under the gaze of the newcomer standing next to her. Nile started to wave him over but Booker just shook his head and tossed the rag into the toolbox.

“I’ll meet you inside, I need to clean up out here,” he signed. “No more than five minutes, promise,” Booker added when Nile frowned at him. He even went as far as to cross his heart and hold his hand up in a scouts honor salute, cracking a smile when it made her laugh. He watched the three of them as they circled around to the front door, where Nicky was undoubtedly waiting for them from the moment the car crossed the border back into Lebanon.

Booker took his time cleaning up and putting away the tools. He figured it would be better to spread out the whole welcome committee rather than force the new kid to meet everyone at once. He knew how overwhelming it had been when he only had to meet three people; he couldn’t imagine being faced with six. Ideally he’d get to stop for a cigarette before having to go inside, but he’d learned long ago that smoking after working with oil and gasoline was a bad idea, no matter how clean you thought you were. So Booker shut off the radio, took a deep breath, and slipped in the back door. He stripped off his filthy button down and tossed it into the washroom to deal with later and fished his earbuds from his pocket. He reluctantly looped them loosely around his neck instead of putting them in, because he knew Nile would scold him for being rude otherwise.

He could hear the usual chatter in the living room as he shed his shoes and padded over to the kitchen to put the radio back. Booker gave his hands a good scrubbing of dish soap and scalding water until he was positive any grime from earlier was long gone. Now that he was out of ideas for procrastination, he grabbed a bottle of water and grit his teeth before moving to the living area to join the chaos. He hung back, leaning against the doorframe as he heard the familiar phrase of “we killed each other, many times,” coming from the star-crossed lovers that sat practically on top of each other on the cramped couch in order to make room for Nile to sit with them.

As he glanced around he made eye contact with Quynh who arched an eyebrow at him before nodding over to the open armchair on the other side of the room. Booker scrunched his nose and just gave a quick shake of his head before cracking open his water to take a sip. It wasn’t as nice as a cold beer after working outside under the sun, but it was cool and refreshing and got the job done.

Joe must’ve caught Quynh’s pout because the next thing Booker knew, he was grinning in his direction. Booker shot him a warning glare but it was too late.

“And there he is! The baby brother of the group. Although maybe not anymore, but we’ll deal with that later. Sasha, this is Booker, our resident forger and mechanic and every bit of a sore loser as you would expect a Frenchman to be,” Joe beamed as he directed the Russian’s attention his way.

Booker tensed as all the eyes in the room turned to him. Some seemed curious while others were sympathetic and Nile seemed to be pleading with him not to make a scene. So Booker just gave a small nod of acknowledgement in Sasha’s direction, paired with a polite wave. When he realized he still had everyone’s attention he sighed and set the water bottle down on the nearest bookcase. His eyes darted to Joe before back to Sasha again and then found a spot on the wall to focus on instead.

“Welcome to the team. Also, the bikes out back should be working again if anyone wants to take one for a test ride before dinner,” he signed carefully and grabbed his water bottle again before looking up and letting his gaze wander around the room. Sasha was staring at him in confusion even as Joe relayed his greeting and Nicky nodded along. Nile looked relieved, Quynh seemed content and maybe he was imagining it, but she almost looked proud? Meanwhile Andy split into a grin and clapped him on the shoulder on her way to the kitchen.

“I’ll race you to the river and back,” she challenged and Booker couldn’t help but crack a smile too. He turned to follow before remembering one last thing. He gave a short whistle to get Nicky’s attention.

“Don’t forget to tell him there’s a change of clothes in the bathroom upstairs in case he wants to clean up before dinner,” he reminded him before turning and following Andy out the back door.

By the time he and Andy got back, the sun had dipped below the horizon as the two of them stumbled in through the back door. They were still laughing over how filthy Booker got from Andy running him off the path and into a shallow creek, kicking up mud the entire time. They both toed off their boots in the mudroom/laundry room and Andy went to investigate dinner as Booker was forced to strip down out there, lest he track mud all over the house. Once he had stripped down to his boxer briefs, he padded down the hall and tiptoed past the open doorway to the kitchen to get to the stairs, but failed to make it unseen.

A wolf whistle echoed down the hall from what could only have been Joe and even though he was just being an ass, Booker still found his face and neck growing red. Without turning around he flipped the rest of them the bird over his shoulder before heading upstairs to get dressed.

When he reappeared a few minutes later, everyone was filtering into the kitchen to eat. Booker found a seat between Quynh and Nile and watched Sasha curiously as he stood off to the side, waiting for some kind of direction. No one else seemed to notice his hesitance though so Booker nudged Nile.

“Does he know he can sit?” He asked, keeping his hand movements to a minimum to avoid hitting Quynh. Or at least that’s what he told himself. It certainly wasn’t because he was trying to avoid capturing anyone else’s attention. Nile furrowed her brow before glancing over and shrugging.

“Hey, Sasha,” she spoke up and Booker tried not to flinch at the way he snapped his head in their direction. “You can sit wherever, man. Nicky’s not gonna sit 'til everyone has food on their plate and Joe’s just gonna be following him around the kitchen until he does so.”

The Russian didn’t seem entirely sure about that, but he nodded nonetheless and eventually sat next to Andy who was on Quynh’s other side. Booker noted that he had indeed gotten cleaned up while he and Andy had been out, and he was relieved to find that the clothes he picked up for him more or less fit. Booker snuck a glance in Nile’s direction and held it just long enough for him to catch her eye. She stared back expectantly and arched an eyebrow.

“He cleans up nice,” he commented casually and managed to keep his face straight. Nile stared at him a moment before nodding barely.

“I guess. What’s your point?” She signed back carefully and pinned him with a skeptical look. Booker shrugged.

“You’re only a few years older than him. Might be of interest. Maybe you’re the next Nicky and Joe,” he replied with a shit eating grin and let out a small chuckle when Nile smacked the back of his head.

“You’re an asshole,” she muttered under her breath and Booker just looped an arm around her shoulders to pull her close enough to press a kiss to the side of her head. He’d truly missed having a younger sibling to tease and honestly Nile walked right into it every time.

Chapter Text

By the time they started eating, Booker had shaken the uneasiness that had taken hold of him as soon as Sasha had sat at the table. Everyone filled their plates and complimented Nicky on dinner and Nile even thanked Joe when he claimed he helped, even though Nicky argued that all he did was get in the way. But there was a familiar level of fondness in his voice and expression that left the rest of them rolling their eyes and Sasha only looking a little bit confused. Conversation swelled and faded as they ate, with each of them taking turns to ask and answer questions from Sasha. He noted that the newcomer had asked about each of their past lives and origins, except for his, but tried not to read too much into it. He knew he didn’t come across as an open book, but inclusion in the conversation would’ve been nice.

Once they’d finished eating and everyone was just leaning back in their chairs chatting, Booker started to get restless hearing the same stories that they’d told Nile those first few nights and it was starting to stir up memories. No matter how hard he tried to push them to the back of his mind, they kept creeping up on him and he found himself struggling to keep up with the conversation. So he collected his and Nile’s empty plates and stood, retreating to the kitchen to start washing the dishes. He actively ignored Quynh’s soft call of his name when he stood up so abruptly and just set the dishes in the sink as he slid his headphones from around his neck, up and over his ears.

He picked a playlist that Nile affectionately called his “dad rock” music. When ‘Good Times, Bad Times’ started up he couldn’t help but smirk at the irony. At least this way he wouldn’t be lying if he said he didn’t hear someone. So he bumped up the volume and turned on the sink and started cleaning whatever he could get his hands on. When he was done with his and Nile’s dishes, he started in on the pots and pans that Nicky had left strewn around the kitchen. Booker even went so far as to wipe down the counters and scrub down the stovetop to avoid rejoining the others. He was starting to dry and put away the pots and pans when he felt a hand on his arm and he stilled before turning and facing Nicky.

“Everything okay?” He asked before starting to rinse off the rest of the dishes from the table. Booker just nodded and continued putting away the things from the drying rack. When Nicky eventually flicked water at him, he sighed and slipped his headphones off and shot Nicky a tired look.

“You’re far less convincing when you avoid eye contact, you know,” Nicky commented quietly as he passed a wet dish to Booker to dry. Booker shrugged as he set the plate in the cabinet and slung the dish towel over his shoulder.

“Just tired,” Booker replied and paused as he glanced over to the table and tensed when he saw the rest of them moving to get up. “Need some air,” he added before dropping the towel on the counter and heading for the front door, grabbing his jacket and ducking outside before anyone could say anything.

It had cooled off since he and Andy had gotten back, but not enough to make him go back inside to get his boots. So he eased down on the top step of the stoop and lit up a smoke, sliding his headphones back on and leaning against the post of the railing. His eyes slipped shut and he tried to focus on his senses instead of his thoughts. On the cool concrete beneath him and the light breeze filling the air around him. On the slight burn at the back of his throat with every inhale. On the smell of burning tobacco and the lingering taste of dinner. On the bass and the drums and guitar and keyboard of the music. On the lyrics bouncing around his head. It made it easier to breathe and eased the tightness in his chest and the knots in his stomach.

And when he felt the vibrations of footfalls on the steps next to him, he didn’t feel the need to acknowledge his companion just yet. Booker waited for the song to finish before he cracked his eyes open to find Joe sitting next to him quietly. He took a long drag and let the smoke pour from his nostrils before reluctantly pulling his headphones off.

“What?” Booker asked quietly, using his voice for the first time since the night of the first dream. Joe’s eyebrows popped up as he glanced at him, looking him over carefully.

“What’s going on? And don’t tell me it’s nothing because we lost you about ten minutes into dinner. Don’t think I didn’t notice, Basti,” Joe pointed out and a corner of Booker’s mouth twitched into a faint smirk. He couldn’t get anything past Joe these days, regardless of if he was actually trying to or not.

Booker took a moment and looked down at the step below him, inspecting the cement between his sock-clad feet. It’s not that he didn’t want to answer Joe, because he did. It was more that he was scared of what Joe would think of him if he were honest with him, or worse: what Joe would think if he wasn’t. So he debated how to explain the thoughts he’d been swimming in. When Joe huffed out a sigh a minute or two later, Booker was quick to reassure him that he was going to answer, he was just thinking first.

“I haven’t done this before. Because of the timing with Nile and...everything last time. And it’s just bringing back those memories which is a lot to handle. Not to mention the new kid already dislikes me and he’s the only person in this house that doesn’t have a reason to yet,” Booker signed a bit erratically in his rush to get the thoughts out. Once he did though, he realized just how tense he was getting and his breathing had picked up a bit. He clenched his jaw and very pointedly did not look at Joe in the silence that encompasses them.

“First of all, none of us dislike you. I can’t speak for Sasha but I’d imagine he’s got a lot more on his mind right now, so I wouldn’t put too much thought into it. As for the memories,” Joe sighed and peered over at him. “Any ideas on what might help with that?”

“Wouldn’t say no to a bottle of Scotch,” Booker replied and Joe gave his shoulder a light shove in response.

“I know, kidding, promise,” he reassured him with a sigh. He hesitated and pursed his lips as he debated telling Joe his other idea before deciding against it and just shaking his head.

“Unh-uh, I know that face. What are you thinking?” Joe prodded and shifted closer. Booker frowned and took one last drag from his cigarette before stubbing it out on the step.

“You’re not going to like it,” Booker warned him and Joe rolled his eyes.

“When do I ever like your ideas? Come on, Book.”

“I was thinking that maybe it would be best if I wasn’t here for this,” he signed slowly and dropped his gaze, swallowing back the lump forming in his throat. “Maybe it would be easier if I left for a while.”

Joe paused for a long moment before seeming to find his voice. “You’re right, I don’t like it,” he said simply. “You know why I don’t like it? Because it sounds an awful lot like you trying to punish yourself for some reason. Nobody would be better off if you went away again. I think we learned that well enough the first time that we don’t need to try it a second time, yes?”

Booker chewed his bottom lip and nodded ever so slightly.

“So,” Joe started again as he slid closer to Booker on the stairs and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I think we can agree that’s a pretty shitty idea coming from a pretty shitty part of your brain and therefore it shouldn’t be considered, even for a moment. Besides, if you left again, I’d just come with you and then Nicky would be close behind and that would leave the poor new kid with just the girls and that seems particularly cruel considering he hasn’t done anything yet.”

Booker gave a breath of a laugh at that. He’d only had to deal with all three women alone once before on a two-week stretch while Joe and Nicky were on their annual trip to Malta and it had been chaos at best. It mostly consisted of him and Nile getting out of the house as much as they could which resulted in an inordinate amount of shopping and sparring.

“Point taken,” Booker replied with a nod. But Joe seemed unconvinced.

“Would it help if you stayed with me and Nicky tonight?” He offered and Booker hesitated a moment before shaking his head. As nice as that sounded, he still had his reservations.

“I don’t want to leave Nile alone with him. Not yet anyways,” he explained carefully and Joe nodded barely in understanding.

“If it makes you feel better, I sincerely doubt he’s going to try to steal your girl on his first night here,” Joe said with a grin, but when Booker shot him a look, Joe only seemed to be partially joking. Booker frowned and stared at him for a long moment.

“It’s not like that,” he stated and watched Joe carefully for a moment before cracking a small smile. “Oh my god, you’re serious,” Booker muttered and broke out into a laugh that was admittedly too big and too loud to be appropriate for how serious their conversation had been up to this point. But Booker didn’t care because the thought of him and Nile being anything more than good friends or siblings was just absurd to him.

“Christ, she reminds me of my little sister. I’d never even thought of her like that, you creep,” Booker chuckled and gave Joe a light shove and he didn’t miss the pink tinge to his cheeks under the moonlight.

“Well what do you expect us to think? You spend all your time together and you make each other playlists and do each others’ chores. Not to mention all of the physical stuff,” Joe defended, but even he was laughing at this point. Booker arched an eyebrow at that last bit and shot him a skeptical look, to which Joe rolled his eyes.

“Oh don’t act all innocent. The two of you are just so...touchy with each other. It’s like you gravitate to one another whenever you’re in the same room and have to be touching at all times. You’ve never been that physical with the rest of us,” he pointed out and Booker just stared at him, unimpressed.

“Are you saying you want me to hug you more? Is that what I’m hearing, Yusuf?”

“I mean, that’s not what I was getting at, but I wouldn’t say no…”

“I never realized that Nicky left you so touch starved,” Booker replied dryly. He paused for a long moment as he eyed Joe. “Which way are the bets going?”

“Quynh and I thought you were together, Nicky and Andy said no chance. Deciding factor is either one of you outright denies it in front of everyone, or we all see the two of you kiss,” Joe explained and at least had the decency to offer a sheepish smile. Booker thought it over for a moment.

“How much will you make if you win?” Booker signed and watched him closely.

“A thousand, American.”

“Are you willing to split that if I guarantee your win?” Booker arched an eyebrow and smirked. Joe’s eyes widened before he pouted.

“That’s a cruel deal and you know it. But it’s still better than losing to Nicolo,” he sighed and held out a hand. “Deal?”

Booker nodded and shook on it. “You’ll have to wait until tomorrow at least. I still need to convince Nile that kissing me might be worth her time,” he explained with a small grin and Joe laughed.

“You better be giving her all of your cut for having to kiss your ugly mug,” Joe teased and elbowed him lightly. Booker rolled his eyes and breathed out a small laugh.

“She’ll be fairly compensated,” Booker reassured him.

Chapter Text

“So, you’re going to be bunking with Booker and I, at least for tonight, which is honestly probably for the best,” Nile explained as she led the way upstairs after dinner. Sasha nodded in understanding as he followed, though he wasn’t quite convinced that sharing space with the other two youngest immortals was the most comfortable option.

“You can take my bed. I don’t mind sharing with Book,” Nile continued when they entered a small bedroom on the second floor. Sasha held back in the doorway as she cleared off one of the beds and transferred her belongings onto the other one.

“I can stay downstairs, if you want privacy,” he offered, only for Nile to give him a strange look and shake her head.

“Trust me, you’ll learn pretty quickly there’s no such thing as privacy when living with these heathens,” she replied before climbing onto the bed that now held her and Booker’s bags.

“And you are sure your boyfriend will not mind?” Sasha asked as he collapsed on the newly cleared off bed and sunk into the mattress. He shoved a pillow under his head and glanced over at Nile who was now gaping at him. Sasha frowned. He didn’t mean any offense, but maybe he got the word wrong? No, he was pretty sure that was right.

“Is secret?” He hazarded after a moment, only to be met with a laugh. That did not help lessen his confusion in the slightest.

“Wait,” Nile managed to get out between breathless giggles. “Do you mean Book?”

“He does not seem to like me much,” he mused as he met Nile’s gaze, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“First of all, he is not my boyfriend. We aren’t together. Not like that,” Nile explained and shook her head. “And I promise he doesn’t dislike you. Or at least no more than he dislikes people in general,” she reasoned out loud and that made more sense.

Sasha could work with that. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d have to win someone over that otherwise wouldn’t give him the time of day. He felt a pang in his chest at the thought of his former roommate and the realization that they wouldn’t be seeing each other again.

But he was distracted from that line of thinking by a new shadow that was cast across the room. He looked up to find Booker lingering in the doorway. Sasha glanced between him and Nile and back again just in time to see the Frenchman’s hands start flitting about. His shoulders slumped a little as he considered how he could work on winning Booker over while not sharing a language.

Nile’s gasp drew him back to the conversation at hand. Her eyes narrowed as she inspected Booker and all at once Sasha decided he never wanted to be on her bad side.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Nile groaned and flopped back dramatically on the bed. “He thought the same thing,” she grumbled dramatically and gestured towards him. Sasha’s brows knit together in confusion as he glanced at Nile before looking back at Booker. There was no way he could have read her lips from that angle, but sure enough Booker’s gaze was now fixed on him. And given his quirked eyebrow and the gleam of amusement in his eyes, he knew exactly what Nile was talking about. Which would be great, except for the fact that Sasha still wasn’t sure what they were talking about.

“I thought what?” He ventured as he glanced between the two of them.

“That we were dating,” Nile sighed as she sat up. “Apparently Joe and Quynh have both placed bets with the others because they’re confident that we are dating.”

Sasha cracked a small grin, suddenly feeling far more validated for his initial impressions. “Nicky and Andy win then, yes?”

The answer was a snort of a laugh from Booker and another groan from Nile.

“Sort of. Except, Nicky never wins bets. Ever. And we can’t let him start now,” Nile explained.

“Never?” Sasha inquired, only to be met with a stern shake of the head from Booker. “But, how can he lose bet if he is correct?”

At that, Nile and Booker exchanged a look. “Guess we’ll have to think of a way to prove that we are dating and then immediately break up after,” Nile explained, getting distracted about halfway through by Booker pointing something out that put a sour expression on her face.

“What was that?” Sasha asked, glancing between the two of them.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Nile sighed. “In the meantime, sleep? Today has felt about a week long and I’m sure it’s been even harder for you.”

Sasha hesitated before nodding in agreement. He still wanted to know what it was that Booker said, but the mere mention of sleep had him yawning from where he was sprawled out on the bed. So he tugged the thin blanket up to cover his body all the way to his shoulders, not bothering to change out of the sweatpants and henley he had been gifted earlier in the evening. As he went to roll over he noticed Booker closed the door and before long Sasha heard him kick off his boots and settle into bed with Nile.

He had just settled down and start to drift off when he heard Nile hiss, “for fucks sake, Book, what have I told you about weapons in bed! Just leave the gun on the nightstand like a normal person.”

But it was the offended scoff followed by the tell tale thud of metal on wood that had Sasha biting back a grin and choking down a chuckle. Maybe they weren’t so wrong about being his kind of people after all.

Chapter Text

By the time Booker padded downstairs in the morning, Nicky had already started making breakfast and Joe and Sasha were sitting at the kitchen table chatting over tea and coffee respectively. He gave the two of them a small wave as he passed by on his way to find some coffee of his own. He squeezed past Nicky to grab a mug before filling it, bobbing his head along to whatever Zeppelin track was playing through the single earbud tucked in his left ear. Off to his right he could hear Joe and Sasha’s back and forth and a certain line caught his attention as he pulled the milk from the fridge.

“So you mean he isn’t deaf?” Sasha sounded skeptical and Booker cracked a small, amused smile. He figured that conversation was coming soon enough.

“No, he can hear fine when he wants to,” Joe said, sounding just as amused as Booker was. Book just poured a splash of milk in his coffee before putting it away and retrieving a spoon.

“So if not deaf, then just slow?” The Russian asked next and Joe snorted. Before he got a chance to answer, Booker glanced over and, with a flick of his wrist, sent the spoon in his hand hurtling the length of the kitchen and catching Sasha in the dead center of his chest. He peered over with a smug smirk while Sasha gaped and Joe cracked up laughing.

A moment later, the spoon came flying back and Booker caught it with ease before it could hit him in the face and merely slipped it into his mug. He glanced back over and made eye contact with Joe and grinned.

“Clearly not as slow as he seems to be,” he signed and Joe broke into a deep belly laugh while Sasha glanced between the two of them in utter confusion. Booker finished making his coffee and went to join them, pausing his music and pulling out the earbud to loop them around his neck instead while Joe regained his composure and explained what he said to Sasha who looked increasingly uncomfortable with each passing moment. Book sat down across from them and sipped on his coffee while glancing at Sasha before making eye contact with Joe.

“No hard feelings,” he signed with a nod in Sasha’s direction to make sure Joe got the message. Booker felt a little bad about putting the others in a position where they had to translate for him, but he tried not to let that weigh on him too heavily. If there was an issue they’d tell him. In the meantime he’d just try to readjust to having someone new around and hope that they were never left by themselves. And even then, he could always use a pen and paper, assuming Sasha could read his handwriting, that is.

His thought process was interrupted by Nicky dropping plates of eggs and home fries in front of Joe and Sasha before ruffling Book’s hair.

“Scrambled?” Nicky offered as he glanced at him and Booker shook his head.

“Not hungry.”

“You gotta eat something, Book,” Joe chimed in through a mouth full of food. Booker scowled and just pointed to his coffee.

“We both know caffeine doesn’t count,” Joe replied with a sigh and Booker rolled his eyes before emptying his mug. He stood to retreat to his room just as Andy and Quynh shuffled into the kitchen with Nile close behind. Nile glanced him over and arched an eyebrow at him as he tried to flee. Booker tried to brush past her but she blocked the doorway to the hall, effectively trapping him in the kitchen.

He paused for a moment before remembering their little agreement from last night and broke into a sly grin. Before she could question him, he wrapped an arm around Nile’s waist, pulled her close, and pressed a kiss to her lips as he backed her against the doorframe. She startled at first before cupping his cheek and kissing him back, just enough that he could taste the mint of her toothpaste on her lips.

“Morning,” he whispered as he pulled back just barely so their lips weren’t touching anymore. He pressed a kiss to her forehead before stepping backwards into the hall and giving her a small, knowing smile and a wink.

“Get some coffee and breakfast, I’ll catch up with you later,” he signed before turning on his heel and heading back upstairs to get changed. He felt a little bit bad about throwing her to the wolves and not sticking around to back her up, but Nile was a big girl, she could handle it.

----------------------------------------

“What the fuck was that?” Andy roared from where she stood frozen next to the island.

“What?” Nile feigned innocence and fought her hardest to keep a neutral face. “I’m not allowed to get a kiss good morning?”

“Not like that! Not from Booker,” Andy argued as Quynh squealed with glee next to her.

“Pay up, Andromache!”

“You too, habibi,” Joe echoed Quynh with a smug grin and Nicky just scowled as he dug a stack of bills out of his pocket. He muttered something in Italian under his breath and the only words Nile could recognize were curses.

Nile broke into a grin and practically pranced around the kitchen, planting a quick kiss on Andy’s cheek, followed by Quynh and Nicky and finally Joe’s. Joe rolled his eyes and rifled through the bills before handing Nile her fair share. She took the wad of cash and tucked it in her bra as she planted a kiss to the top of his head.

“Truly, a pleasure doing business with you,” she giggled before sitting next to Sasha who had broken into his own shit eating grin as he watched the scene play out. Andy was gaping at her, Quynh gleefully counted her money, and Nicky looked like he was sincerely considering taking a frying pan to his love’s head.

“That is what you meant last night?” Sasha found the courage to ask Nile, his eyes glittering in amusement. Nile shrugged and took a sip of the juice Nicky had forcefully placed on the table in front of her.

“Whatever it takes to win the bet. Even if I feel like I have to go brush my teeth again,” she replied and scrunched up her nose. She couldn’t shake the lingering taste of Booker’s coffee but she had to admit she appreciated that he kissed her before his morning cigarette.

Chapter Text

After tossing and turning for the better part of an hour, Sasha gave up on trying to fall back asleep after being awoken by a nightmare. Again.

He’d have to ask Nile in the morning how long it took for her to stop reliving her death, night after night. Although, if he was being honest with himself, he was scared he might not want to know the answer to that particular question.

He tiptoed his way between all the bunks crammed into the bedroom, careful not to disturb anyone else’s sleep as he fled to the kitchen in search of a snack and a book to kill time until sunrise. It wasn’t until he stepped out into the hall and silently closed the bedroom door behind him that he noticed the warm glow of the kitchen lights. Which was odd, because he was confident that they shut off all the lights when they called it a night several hours prior. Sasha pulled the gun from his waistband and crept around the corner, only to pause in the doorway as he processed the sight in front of him.

Thankfully, the kitchen was devoid of any assailants, but that did little to solve his confusion as he watched Booker puttering around, sliding a pan of some kind into the oven. The counter seemed to be covered in flour and there was still a large mixing bowl stacked on top of the toaster oven that Sasha hadn’t seen before. When Booker turned to grab the bowl, he caught Sasha’s eye and gave him a small nod of acknowledgement before upending the bowl over the counter, a large blob of dough sliding right out. Sasha considered heading back to bed to avoid disturbing whatever it is he just walked in on but his train of thought was cut short.

“Can’t sleep?” A rough voice suggested from across the room and Sasha froze. He was just about certain he was imagining things until Booker looked up from the dough he was kneading and locked eyes with him. The expectant stare was enough to convince him that no, he wasn’t imagining things and that Booker had, in fact, just asked him a question.

Sasha swallowed his shock and just offered the smallest shake of his head, trying not to flinch under Booker’s scrutinizing gaze. He could feel the other man’s bright eyes searching his face, and possibly even reading his mind, for a clue as to what he was doing awake at this hour. He must have found whatever he was looking for though, because his expression softened a degree and he nodded before turning his attention back to the bread dough in front of him.

“There’s tea,” he offered softly with a small nod toward the stove. He spoke so casually as if this wasn’t the first time he’d so much as uttered a single syllable in Sasha’s presence.

“It is 3 am,” Sasha pointed out for no reason in particular as he turned the safety back on his pistol and tucked it in the back of his jeans. He watched Booker carefully as he crossed the room and pulled a mug from the cabinet.

“Mm,” Booker hummed in acknowledgement, but didn’t offer anything more than that. Sasha sighed and poured himself a cup of tea from the pan on the stove. He took a small sip and instantly relaxed some as the warmth of the spice blend filled his mouth.

“But you are making bread.” It was both a statement and a question at that point because given the situation, Sasha truly felt like his grasp on reality was slipping. He located a clear spot on the counter and hopped up, just close enough to keep an eye on what Booker was doing.

He couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the repetition of the movement, how easily Booker’s hands folded and stretched the dough this way and that. It also didn’t help that he could see the flex of every toned muscle in the man’s arms, from shoulder to wrist, as he worked the dough. Strong hand kneading and squeezing and folding and stretching. Sasha shook his head to clear it. No. Nope. He couldn’t let his thoughts go there. Not here, not now, and not about Booker of all people.

“Mm,” Booker hummed again, breaking Sasha from his reverie, before glancing over at him with a faint smile. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Sasha couldn’t help but match his smile and offer a small nod of understanding. After that they fell into a companionable silence, none of the usual tension in the air between them that seems to fill the room every time they’re left alone together. Booker eventually forms the bread into loaves and trades them for the now finished tray of freshly baked bread coming out of the oven. It was surprisingly peaceful sitting there sipping his tea while Booker cleaned up the kitchen around him.

They were well on their way to sunrise by the time Booker took the last loaves of bread out of the oven and had let them cool long enough to store them. Sasha stifled a yawn as he put the last of the dishes away.

“Saw that,” Booker commented with a smirk and Sasha scowled at him.

“Just because I did not sleep does not mean I am not allowed to be tired,” he argued and Booker cracked a grin. It occurred to him in that moment just how much he sounded like a grumpy toddler.

“Come on, we can still fit a nap in,” Book replied and before he knew it, Booker’s hand was resting lightly on his back, gently guiding him back to the bedroom.

“And if I don’t want to sleep? What then?”

“I doubt you’re avoiding sleep so much as nightmares,” Booker muttered under his breath and pulled Sasha in from the hall before he could protest. He tried not to squirm at the feeling of Booker’s hand around his bicep, manhandling him to the back of the room where his abandoned bunk lay. Sasha’s confusion only grew when Booker climbed under the covers of what had previously been his own bunk just a few hours prior. He stared for a moment before shrugging and turning to steal Booker’s bunk in turn, only for a calloused hand to grab his wrist and stop him.

When he looked back at Booker, the older man just shook his head and pulled him back to the bed until Sasha was forced to sit on the edge of the mattress. Despite how much his mind was screaming at him about what a terrible idea it was to share a bed with Booker, he was exhausted enough that he didn’t even bother trying to fight it. So he pulled up his feet and slid into bed under the blankets next to Book, reveling in the comfort of a warm body so close to his own for the first time in weeks.

Chapter Text

“So,” Quynh started with a grin as she perched on a nearby tree stump. “Are we going to talk about what happened last night?”

Booker snorted and shook his head as he swung the ax in his hand and splintered another log of wood. He should’ve known that they’d send a scout the moment he ducked out of breakfast with only a slice of baguette hanging from his mouth and a travel mug in hand.

“Really? Nothing about how you ended up in a certain someone else's bed?”

“Nope,” he replied as he finished splitting the log in front of him, setting down the ax and stacking the pieces neatly with the rest of the firewood he’d prepared earlier.

“Shouldn’t have to explain nightmares to you of all people,” he commented quietly after a moment and saw the way Quynh’s face fell from its eyebrow-wiggling mischief to a softer, empathetic understanding. Before he knew it, her arms wrapped tight around his waist and she had buried her face in his chest.

“Proud of you, little brother,” she mumbled into his shirt and Booker tried his best not to roll his eyes at the ridiculous pet name. Instead he just wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze in return.

————————

“You’re avoiding him,” Nile pronounced as she flopped down onto the couch next to Booker a few days later. He glanced up from his book to watch Nile settle into the couch with her head resting against his thigh and legs dangling off the armrest.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbled back before returning his gaze to the worn copy of Hamlet he was working his way through for the ump-teenth time. Nile scoffed and batted the paperback closed. Booker sighed and tossed it onto the end table.

“He’s training and there’s nothing I can teach him that he doesn’t already know, so I don’t see the issue here.”

“You could teach him tech stuff? Or forgery? It could never hurt to have an extra person that knows how to work through all that stuff,” Nile suggested and looked up at him with wide eyes. After all, his efforts to teach any of his skills to the rest of the team had mostly failed, so she had a point.

“But if I teach him all that, what use would you have for me, huh?” He poked her cheek and put on the closest thing to a convincing smile as he could manage. But Nile saw right through the weak attempt at a facade and smacked his arm.

“None of that. We’ve talked about this and you aren’t going anywhere, ever,” she declared and captured one of his hands with her own to intertwine their fingers, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “But at the same time, Sasha isn’t going anywhere either. So you two need to make friends or else this is just going to get even more awkward.”

“I’ll work on it,” Booker conceded with a sigh.

————————

“Joe and I can handle the groceries,” Nicky declared as he looked down at the list in his hand. They were only stopping over in Romania for a few nights until their flight to Berlin, where they would be able to lie low for a while and plan their next job.

“But we’re going to need some hardware to fix that window before it rains tonight. I don’t think duct tape is going to be good enough in a storm,” he continued and was met with nods and murmurs of begrudged agreement.

“I’ll take care of it,” came a gruff reply from the opposite end of the table and Sasha barely stopped himself from jumping at the sound.

It had been a little more than a week since he found Booker baking in the middle of the night. More than a week since they’d shared his bed in cramped quarters. More than a week since he woke up with his head pillowed by Booker’s chest and an arm wrapped around his waist.

More than a week since Booker last spoke in front of him.

He tried his best not to stare as Booker confirmed the supplies they needed and jotted down the details on a notepad. But judging by the sharp elbow that suddenly jabbed his ribs, he wasn’t doing a particularly good job being discreet.

“You keep staring like that and he’s gonna keep quiet for two more weeks at this rate,” Nile whispered in his ear and Sasha grimaced at the thought before quickly dropping his gaze.

“I’m only kidding,” she reassured him. “Well, mostly.”

From that point he tried his best to follow the conversation while only stealing brief glances at Booker, who seemed to be back in his own world again based on the mindless doodles slowly filling the margins of his notebook. Andy started handing out jobs from the to-do list and Sasha met her gaze when he heard his name, only for her to be cut off.

“I’ll take the russkiy,” Booker said without so much as glancing up from the table. “Between the two of us, I’m sure we can find a hardware store.”

Andy’s gaze flickered back and forth between Booker and Sasha before settling on the latter. Sasha just shrugged. He didn’t mind tagging along to help carry whatever supplies they needed back. Besides, he’d like to have a chance to take a look around as he’d never been this far west before.

“Alright then. Booker and Sasha are on hardware. Quynh, you can keep an eye on Joe and Nicky and make sure they don’t get too distracted while shopping. Nile and I can handle taking inventory. Everyone meets back here by sundown or else we send out search parties, understood?” Andy glanced around and met each of their gazes before nodding, clearly dismissing the rest of the team to their respective duties.

Sasha watched everyone get up and hesitated before rising and following Booker. He frowned when Booker went about his business of gathering the necessary cash and bags for their trip to the shop without so much as glancing at him. He replayed the events of that night they spent together in his head and couldn’t come up with a reason Booker might be upset with him.

—————————-

“So why are you mad at me?”

“I’m not,” Booker replied mildly as he browsed the shelves, pausing to pull some screws from a box.

“And I do not believe you.”

Booker resisted the urge to roll his eyes and sighed. Did they really have to have this conversation here and now? Surely it could wait until they were back at the safehouse.

“Was just giving you space. Didn’t want to overstep,” he explained carefully as he continued meandering through the aisles of the shop.

“So taking me to bed is not overstepping but speaking to me is?” Sasha muttered in reply and Booker winced.

“You left. I thought I had overstepped. I backed off. That’s all,” Booker stated with a sense of finality.

He tried not to let his mind linger on the memory of waking up alone and a bit confused. By the time he had made it downstairs it was clear everyone else had seen them sharing a bunk that morning and Booker couldn’t help but notice the way Sasha squirmed in embarrassment when Andy made a passing comment. The look of shame on Sasha’s face had been enough for him to realize he’d messed up and crossed a line. So Booker did what he did best: he ran and hid from the issue to the best of his ability. He fled to the neighboring forest that morning to find firewood and had been out there the better part of an hour before Quynh came out to bother him about it.

He heard Sasha’s footsteps stop short behind him in the cramped aisle and he sighed. When he grew the nerve to meet the other’s gaze, all he found staring back at him was confusion and disbelief.

“So now it is a crime to get out of bed in the morning when I am hungry?” Sasha asked with a frown.

Booker rolled his eyes and went back about his business. In reality, his mind was already going a hundred miles per hour, thinking about all the possible reasons that Sasha got up early. Maybe he was just hungry. Then again, maybe he was uncomfortable that Booker all but forced him to share a bed that night. Or maybe Booker said something stupid in his sleep. Or maybe Sasha got too hot. Or maybe he was embarrassed to be seen taking comfort in someone else’s presence. Or maybe it bothered him that it was Booker specifically that was trying to comfort him.

Without realizing it, Booker had finished gathering everything on their list and had made it to the cashier, his mind still racing while his actions were fully on autopilot the whole time. He offered a tight smile and soft pleasantries to the clerk as he slid their basket onto the counter. He tried hard not to think about Sasha’s gaze burning holes through the back of his head while the shopkeeper tallied up their total.

The whirring in his head came to an abrupt halt though when it was interrupted by the crash and clatter of pottery hitting the floor and shattering. The sound alone made him flinch; his eyes darted off to his right to try and place the source of the commotion, only to find a young boy with wide eyes scrambling to pick up the pieces of a terracotta planter he had been attempting to place on the top shelf.

Just a flowerpot, he reminded himself silently and forced a deep, shaking breath in and out of his lungs. This wasn’t a time for his fight or flight instincts to kick in, and logically he knew that, but unfortunately his brain wasn’t always the most logical of places. He desperately wanted to offer a lighthearted comment, remind the kid that accidents happen and try to help him relax but he found that his tongue was tied in that moment. So he refocused on balling up the shopping list in his fist, hidden in his jacket pocket.

But clearly his discomfort was pouring off of him because the shopkeeper was quick to apologize for the mess and, to Booker’s dismay, just as quick to discipline the boy for being so careless.

He flinched harder then, before he could even process the man raising a hand at the child. Booker’s mind screamed for him to reach out and stop him but his body wasn’t listening.

Thankfully, Booker wasn’t the only one who had apparently seen enough as his view of the scene was quickly blocked by a stockier form, doing what he couldn’t bring himself to do. It felt surreal watching Sasha pin the man to the counter with an arm wrenched behind his back. He stared as his younger counterpart muttered what was almost certainly a long string of threats in the man’s ear before releasing him and stalking back to the customer’s side of the counter. Booker would’ve given all his gambling winnings from the past year to have heard what he’d said to the man, but he was still trying to work his way back to reality from the ringing in his ears and his heart pounding so hard he swore he could feel it in his ribs.

Which is also why he didn’t realize Sasha had started talking to him until there were fingers snapping in front of his face to get his attention. Booker blinked a few times and looked up from where his eyes had been glued to the counter. His head was still swimming when Sasha paused seemingly mid sentence.

“M-U-S-I-C?” Sasha asked slowly, concentrating hard and Booker’s brow furrowed in confusion before he remembered his earbuds tucked in his jacket pocket.

He nodded in agreement and pulled them out, popping them into his ears and just hitting play. The change of pace definitely helped but the stare he was getting from the cashier still made his skin crawl. He glanced back at Sasha for a moment before pointing to the door, relaxing when it was apparent they were on the same page and Sasha gave him a nod.

Booker ducked his head and slipped out the door of the shop. He wandered past a couple store fronts until he found a bench where he sunk down and let out the breath he didn’t realize he was still holding. He let himself slump forward, elbows on knees and head in hands as he tried to just focus on the music.

It took a moment before he could remember the strategy Nile had taught him to ground himself. He only had to count down from five. Should be easy enough.

Cinq. Five things he could hear. He sifted through the layers of the song he was listening to and took the time to pick out the instruments one by one. Guitar. Bass. Drums. Piano. Lead vocals.

Quatre. Four things he can feel. The leather of his jacket brushing against the back of his neck. The light breeze of early spring. His own calloused hands pressed to his temples, massaging away an incoming headache. A set of keys digging into his leg through the pocket of his jeans.

Trois. Three things he can see. He reluctantly pried his eyes open to stare at the ground. Dirt between his feet. The frayed end of a lace that’s been burned and fused a few times by now because he’s been too busy to replace them. Deep creases of well-worn boots with more miles on them than they were ever made for.

Deux. Two things he can taste. The stale coffee lingering on his breath from breakfast. A slight metallic twang that let him know he managed to split his lip when his jaw clenched and bit his lip minutes before.

Un. One thing he can smell. He sighed before taking a deep breath in through his nose. Huh. His brow creased as he inhaled again. Was that…sandalwood? Now that didn’t make much sense at all.

Booker lifted his head and was quickly greeted with an explanation as he realized Sasha was standing in front of him, patiently waiting for him to come back to himself. And when Sasha broke into a soft smile at the realization that Booker was back, well, Booker couldn’t help but mirror him.

“You okay?”

Booker nodded.

“Ready to go back?” Sasha asked and gestured down the street in the general direction of the safehouse.

Booker hesitated just a moment before nodding in agreement once more. And when Sasha offered him a hand up, he took it gratefully. He hauled himself to his feet and was surprised when Sasha didn’t let go and simply slotted his fingers between Book’s as they started walking.

Booker couldn’t help but smile as they fell into step with one another, hands lightly swinging between them. Maybe he hadn’t overstepped after all.