They were sitting on the roof of their shared home. The air outside was heavy and warm, threatening to rain just before the sun came up. They'd been sitting around for most of the night, sharing cigarettes and nursing on Oleander's stash. Nikita had taken a hard blow to the head during his last round of fight club. Oleander had been in the crowd watching when it happened, and he'd stood guard with clenched fists as the on sight medical team examined a nasty gash crossing Nikita's left temple. The boy was silent through everything, but his eyes threatened murder if anyone dared approach Nikita while he was being cared for, and even after Oleander had wrapped protective arms around him while they staggered to his car. On another night it may have seemed awkward but in those moments all Nikita felt was security. Oleander ducked him into the passenger seat and drove them home in silence. The boy only spoke once in the duration of their ride, pausing outside Eustass's home to catch Nikita's gaze and ask "yes or no?"
If they went in, there was no doubt that Eustass would whisk Nikita off to the emergency room. The alpha would most likely become rigid with emotion and call Vitaly out of necessity to ward off an explosion of panic. Despite his strong alpha exterior, the man seemed to fall apart when it concerned the health of his children.
Oleander was offering to let him skip that. They could go home together instead, to the tiny house Eustass had built them where Oleander would drag him to the roof and insist sleep was out of the question. He would still be safe and watched over, but it wouldn't be near as suffocating.
"No. Lets just go home."
Nikita savored how he word rolled off his tongue. And despite his best efforts he was warmed by Oleander's constant presence at his side. No matter how he tried, these feelings would not burn away.
And yet he was still hesitant to act on them. There would be no turning back after crossing that bridge. Their relationship would never be the same.
Nikita couldn't lose this.
Oleander helped him from the vehicle, ignoring all protest as he lead the Russian inside. The home was built to include two bedrooms and one bath, along with a tiny kitchen and cozy living space. Nikita slumped into a wooden chair at the kitchen table while Oleander swept through the kitchen on a hunt for alcohol. Nikita's eyes had only just closed when the obnoxious clattering of bottles startled him to consciousness. Oleander was standing at his side, expression drawn in what looked to be irritation, but Nikita knew it as concern.
"You wont be getting any sleep tonight, shithead. The medics said you need to stay alert for the next twelve hours." The edge in his voice promised that it would be futile to argue.
"So, roof or the bed room?"
Nikita rolled his eyes at the options, and then groaned when the action caused a sharp ache in his temple. He wanted to sleep, but Oleander was probably right. It wouldn't hurt him to stay awake for a while longer.
"I guess a smoke doesn't sound too bad right now."
Wordlessly Oleander helped him from the chair. Their home was tiny, but special made with a roof they could be comfortable on. Eustass had made it accessible by ladder. Normally the climb was effortless, but tonight it seemed miles long to Nikita.
Oleander huffed at his side "Jesus, you're not gonna make it." The boy had stopped upon noticing Nikita's hesitation, realizing immediately that his injury would make this difficult if not impossible. Surveying the area, Oleander could find nothing that would be of any use. The boy was left with a single alternative.
"Alright, arms around my neck and no talking. I know you're dizzy as all hell but you've still got a grip."
For a moment Nikita faltered. He was taller than Oleander, and he possessed the body of a fighter.
But Oleander wasn't to be underestimated. When Nikita didn't move, a heavy hand clasped around the back of his neck, slowly drawing the Russian down until their noses brushed.
"I didn't ask you. I told you. And im in charge tonight since you went and got yourself fucked up. Do as I say or im going to push you down and leave you out here. Understand?"
Nikita just barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes, remembering the pain it had caused him earlier but still somehow tempted. There was no arguing when Oleander was in one of his moods. Nikita relented with surrendering sigh, and Oleander knew that he had won. The Russian curled strong arms around Oleander's shoulders and waited. He was prepared to move, and yet still startled when he felt fingers tugging at his pants leg. Nikita knew better than to hesitate, and instead swung his legs around Oleander's waist as directed. He was in near awe when the boy began climbing, carrying his added weight with only a soft grunt to give away the strain.
"When did you turn into superman?"
"It's not a recent development, shit head. Im always super when it comes to you."
Oleander made it onto the roof, but refused to let Nikita down until he was satisfied they were far enough away from the edge that there could be no accidents. The Russian huffed when he was dropped unceremoniously onto the center of their roof, having be unprepared when Oleander's arms abruptly stopped supporting his weight.
Instead of acknowledging Nikita's annoyance, the boy was gazing up at the star spattered sky. The moon was full and bright enough to illuminate Oleander's face through the darkness. Despite all his irritation, Nikita couldn't help but appreciate the sight.
"Why did you never tell me?" The Russian's gaze was intense and searching, but Oleander ignored it, his expression blank and unwavering.
Nikita didn't need to clarify, Oleander knew immediately what he was questioning. It had been sitting in the space between them like stale air ever since the first kiss, ever since Nikita realized Oleanders feelings were more than alcohol driven enchantment. So why did he never mention it? Had it been anyone else asking, Oleander would have sidestepped the question completely.
But this was Nikita and Oleander never lies to those he loves.
"There was no point in telling you. I'm a lot of nasty shit but I'm not stupid. I knew this would never go anywhere." The boy had secured his pack of cigarettes and was now shaking out one for each of them. He lit his before continuing. "This is nothing and I get that, so stop worrying about it." Oleander's expression had not changed but Nikita registered the tension in his shoulders.
"At first I thought that you kissed me because you were drunk." In the days following though, Nikita remembered the soft look on Oleander's face before the kiss and the sad eyes he wore after. The Russian realized that it was not his first time seeing that expression. Oleander looked at him like that on the roof and driving home after dropping their parents off at the airport, whenever Nikita would show up to take him out or tending his injuries after fight club. It was always the same warmth flashing across ocean mist eyes.
Oleander saved that expression for Nikita alone.
He was wearing it now.
"My feelings for you arent a hallucination." Oleander spoke the words as fact before taking the first drag from his cigarette. "But I understand that you are a pipe dream."
"A pipe dream?" Nikita echoed the words softly, waiting for Oleander to explain but there was only silence as the boy settled at his side.
"What if I wasn't?" The Russian was staring at Oleander, the concussion loosening his tongue enough for him to question things he would normally wonder in silence. Nikita drew closer in expectation of an answer.
Oleander didn't return his stare, and instead flicked his finished cigarette off the roof.
"The 'what if's' don't matter. You are." A pipe dream; Oleander's unattainable and fanciful hope.
"Im sorry. Kissing you was nice and im sorry." Nikita didn't expect to be shoved for speaking as he did, but before he knew it Oleander had sent him sprawling onto his back.
He was careful to catch Nikita's head before it landed.
"I don't want your fucking apology, Nikita." It wasn't a crime to reject his kiss, or wonder about the circumstances that lead up to it. Oleander found apologies distasteful. He didn't believe in 'sorry'.
He ached to know Nikita had enjoyed their kiss and still wouldn't have him, but Oleander swallowed the hurt.
A heavy silence fell over them. Nikita was still flat on his back, head cradled under Oleander's arm while the rest of the boys body carefully pinned him to the spot. He should be uncomfortable with the intimate contact but he wasn't. Oleander was warm and solid against him, and Nikita couldn't remember ever feeling so secure.
"Im glad the kiss was nice." Oleander didn't say that it had meant the world to him. Nikita didn't need to know. His voice had lost its edge, and instead carried a tone of sadness. He rolled off to the side, stretching onto his back but still allowing Nikita to use his arm as a makeshift pillow.
As the hours passed, Oleander counted them. His arm fell asleep two hours into the night but he suffered through it, listening as Nikita talked sports and then family, adding in small opinions of his own here and there. It was comfortable despite all their weighing problems and that gave Nikita hope. Maybe their relationship wouldn't be endangered by giving in to his feelings. In these hours, it felt like nothing could change them. They would always be this.
**Bonus **
*As always Nikita had picked Oleander up on his way to fight club. Ollie is his biggest fan and constant support. He likes to wrap the Russian's hands before a fight and he's always the one to free them after.
*Nikita's opponent is a large man. Twenty eight and weighing in at two hundred and ninety pounds.
*Oleander wants to ask him to skip this round but he knows better and instead whispers urgent words of encouragement. He reminds Nikita to never stop moving, afraid of the damage he would suffer at the hands of one well aimed blow.
*He watches with baited breath.
*And when Nikita hesitates just too long in dodging, Oleander tenses in preparation for the blow.
*He feels the breath leave him as Nikita is struck, his stomach bottoming out and for a moment he thinks he will be sick but there is no time.
*Oleander is in the ring between them before his opponent can manage another swing.
*His voice threatens death. "You get away from him." Oleander is prepared for a fight, and would have swung if the referee had not intervened. The man in stripes ushers their opponent off to his corner before turning back as though to approach Nikita.
*Oleander blocks his path, eyes promising retaliation if the man dares take another step forward.
*"Go get the medics. Stay away from us." He doesnt wait to see the referee nod. Oleander falls to his knees at Nikita's side, his hands careful as he gathers the Russian against his chest. Nikita seems to be rousing, but the blow has stolen consciousness for an entire five minutes. It is enough to have Oleander shaking with rage. He can't acknowledge the worry that sends his heart to beating in his throat.
*Nikita doesnt fully regain himself until he is being examined by the medical team. Oleander is still by his side, refusing to loosen his grip on Nikita's hand and demanding the medics be more careful when handling the Russian's injury. When one of them beings to wipe blood way, Oleander shoves into their side. He will be the one to wipe Nikita's face. No one else is to touch him unless it was strictly necessary.
*His hands are gentle, but his face is hard.
*Nikita should have felt threatened under that heavy stare but all he felt was safe.
