#Nonebinary Juno Steel

[alexandenigtscreations]

Chapters: ½ Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast Rating: Teen and up Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel Additional Tags: Poisoning, Poison, Heist gone wrong, Peter Nureyev has ADHD, Rita defiantly has ADHD, Nonbinary Juno Steel, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, TPP, Junoverse | Juno Steel Universe Summary:

After Nureyev get’s poisoned on a mission, he’s determined to see it to it’s completion. He and Juno make quite the team after all. Had many thoughts after reading @kaiserkorresponds​ 's fic ---> [The Celestial's Kiss https://archiveofourown.org/works/31409258 ]. Which apparently has been spinning round and round my head. I do love a good poisioning <3</p>

Chapter 1:

It should have been obvious from the moment the drink hit his lips.  The sour bitterness that the burn of poor quality alcohol failed to mask.  It should have been obvious.  But focused as he was on keeping a straight face; Nureyev found himself swallowing the vial fluid before he could begin to think better of it.  He paused, eyes flicking down to the odd shimmer he’d mistaken for ice melt.  

That- wasn’t ideal-

He filed deeper thoughts on the subject away in favor of assessing for further threats.  The facility crawled with them, from the myriad of security cameras to their flamboyantly garbed host.  They were watching a little too closely, a little too carefully.  A smile playing across their garish lips.

Nureyev sat back, glancing over at his goddess.  A vision in the scarlet A-cut dress.  There was a slit running up his thigh, revealing quite a bit of leg and a hint of a holster.  

Juno’s own drink, served neat, bore the same tell-tale signs of tampering.  The Detective swirled it about his glass, clearly about to throw it back in his usual no nonsense fashion.  

That would not due.

With all the coolness Nureyev could muster, he placed a gentle hand over Juno’s cup.  His Detective tensed, sending a soft, questioning gaze his way.  

“Not very hospitable, spiking a Lady’s drink.”

“What?” Juno pulled back, guard up.  

Nureyev’s fingers curled around the glass, taking a moment to weigh his options.  He had half a mind to fling it’s contents into the eyes of Jody, the large thuggish man directly across the table.  He might even have time to incapacitate Mx. Balsa and get Juno to cover him before reinforcements came.  They might even make it out in one piece-  

It was tempting, but ultimately would get them nowhere.

They were on a job, after all.  If there was any chance of salvaging the situation, that should be their first option.  One little computer virus, how hard could it be to plant?

He took the glasses and poured their contents on the floor, the ice shattered on impact.  

Mx. Balsa smiled.  “Very good Mr. Tillerson.  It seems you passed our test.”

“A test.  We came to have a civilized discussion, Mx. Balsa.” Nureyev said pointedly, he could still feel the burn of the alcohol in his throat “Not play childish games.”

Mx. Balsa shrugged their narrow shoulders “Childish or no, it’s effective.  We don’t let just anyone play with us.  I’m sure you understand.”

“Understand?” Juno bristled, “Understand my boot! You try to pull something like that-”

Juno came up short when Nureyev squeezed his thigh; nodding his head graciously, “Naturally.  Now are there any other- tests- we should be made aware of or are we free to get down to business.”  

Was he imagining it?  Or was his stomach already souring?  

File it away-

“Down to business!” Juno blurted, “They offered us a spiked cocktail and you want to get back to business?” he sat back, crossing arms over his chest “I say no way.  The only people that I know of who spike drinks are scoundrels and cheats.  How are we supposed to take them at their word?” At some point the moral outrage in his voice changed into a conversational tone.

Nureyev could have kissed him, if it weren’t for their cover- “My colleague has a point.  You’ve tested us, it seems only fair that we should test you.” he gave his best smile, “Perhaps a sample of your information for our technicians to verify.”

“I hardly believe that to be necessary-” said Mx. Balsa.  Nureyev knew that they were the sort of person that relied heavily on their reputation.  But deals weren’t made on reputation alone.  

“Oh?  But I do.  Unless you are unable to deliver what we discussed?” Nureyev stared into their pale eyes.  They didn’t flinch.  He waited a beat, then two and still nothing.  He stood with a heavy sigh “I believe our business here has concluded then.  Mr. Micah.” He offered a hand to Juno, who accepted it.  

“Sure Tillerson.”

The pair made to leave. Jody, Mx. Balsa’s companion moved to intercept.  Which was effective both for the fact he was so broad of shoulder as to eclipse the door behind him and so tall that even Nureyev felt as though he had to peer up into his face.  

Instinctively, Nureyev moved in front of Juno.  It was ridiculous, a man that large simply should not be allowed.  

“Like I said, there is no need to leave.” Mx. Balsa’s tone did not change, but there was a weight to it now, a tension.  

“And why should we stay?” Juno crossed his arms defiantly over his chest.

They surveyed him for a moment. “If it’s information you want, it’s information you will have.”  They slid a chip into their comms and made a fuss of downloading a sample.  It chirped upon completion and they offered it up with a flourish. “Please, a sample, if you will.”  

Nureyev’s eyes flicked from the chip to their host and back.  He smiled, accepting it in a cocky, gracious manor that was felt exclusively by his alias.

“Very well, I’ll have our team verify this information.  If you would excuse me.”  Jody made an intercept but this time Mx. Balsa intervened.  A small shake of their head, jewels shimmering in the light.  That was a relief.  With a nod to Juno, Nureyev slipped out the doors and made a beeline towards the restroom even as he sent the data to Rita.  

As much as he wanted to run, he didn’t.  He kept his gate easy and posture confident.  That changed as soon as he was in the privacy of the privy.  

Nureyev bolted to a stall, shoving two fingers down his throat.  He gagged and wretched till his eyes watered, jaw cramped and his skull pounded.  Bowing lower with each convulsion, clinging to the hope he’d retch up the vial cocktail.  

It wasn’t working.  

He reached deeper, spayed his fingers further, feeling the bite of his sharp teeth in his hand, nails scraping on the inside of his throat-  

Historically, he’d viewed being ill at will as a necessary evil of his trade.  A skill, as it were.  

One he’d never mastered.  

It had landed him in the hospital on an occasion or two.  

Try as he might, the only thing he succeeded in doing was ruining his makeup.  He gave up, of course he did, there wasn’t a point in driving himself into exhaustion.  Yet alone displaying that weakness for the world to see.  

There was nothing for it.  He would just have to bide his time until they returned to the Carte Blanche.  

In all probability, he had time.  Brahmese people were particularly resilient to a variety of toxins.  Not by some evolutionary fluke, but by design.  The planet had always been hostile to its human inhabitants.  In all its infinite wisdom, the government, rather than deal with the expensive venture of cleaning the pollutants from living zones, had instead chosen to subsidize gene editing.  That was before the war though.  

Mag had been so relieved to find Nureyev had inherited the genetic coding.  ‘First rule of thieving Pete’ he’d laughed ‘take any advantage you can get!’

Advantage- Nureyev snorted, more like a double edged sword.   While it afforded him some protection, it also marked him as distinctly Brahmese.

File it away-

The thought of the Carte Blanche again, of Vespa Ilkay.  She was the last person he wanted alerted to the genetic quirk.  

File that away too while you’re at it-

Nureyev turned his attention to the vanity.  He’d made quite the mess of himself.  Lipstick and eyeliner smeared, ropes of various… secretions clinging to his nose and mouth, eyes red and puffy.  He frowned at the fine dusting of red circling the tender flesh behind the spectacles.  Petechiae- apparently he’d burst a few blood vessels.  

Great, just great.  All the work he’d put into Tillerson’s visage for naught- file it away.  

All the same, he allowed himself a moment of discontent as he began the process of cooling the swelling, washing away the evidence and rework his appearance.  

The door swung open, and scarlet filled his periphery.  

“God Damnit , there you are- Tillerson-” bless him, they’d practiced using their aliases for a week before the job and Juno was still uncomfortable with them.  

“Mr. Micah.” Nureyev returned, blending the concealer under his eyes.  

“You were gone for a while-” Juno didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to.  Nureyev could tell when his Detective was worried.  He was fidgeting head to toe, poor thing.

“I decided to visit the powder room while waiting on our team to analyze the data.” he glanced at his comms “The information appeared to check out- And- oh my they seemed to have attempted to sneak in a trojan horse.  Rita assures it isn’t a problem but-”

Juno plainly wasn’t listening.  He was looking him over with that sharp eye, stepping into his space.  “You okay babe?” he breathed, reaching out to smooth a hair back into place and cupping his cheek “your eyes are red.”

Nureyev jumped in surprise.  Had Juno even bothered to check for surveillance devices or-  People slept with their co-workers all the time, he and Juno were no exception to that rule, but what if they were seen?  Found out?  Their cover blown!  What if-

But no- he trusted the Detective.  

He cleared his head gently kissing the lady’s palm.  He considered for a moment telling Juno about the poison, but what came out of his mouth instead was “Just some minor irritation, love.” He stepped away, Mr. Tillerson sliding back into place.  “I suppose we should return to our hosts.”

“Yeah-"he flashed an uncertain smile.  Just don’t go disappearing on me again.  Thought they were going to eat me alive or something-”

“We can not have that now, can we?” He returned the smile, trying to exude his usual confidence despite the weakness in his legs.  They would have to wrap this up quickly, if the dizziness was anything to go by.  Plant the virus and leave.

“You were gone for quite a while Mr. Tillerson.” greeted their host.

“Merely conversing with my associate.” he shrugged, “And you’re in luck, Mx. Balsa.  Your information appears to be- genuine.” Nureyev planted a firm hand on the table, as much for balance as it was to return the chip.  

“Of course it is, we went through great pains to ensure it to be so.”

“Indeed. I’m sure the origin story would be most interesting but we have a matter to settle.  The price.”

They had discussed this before.  Mx. Balsa wouldn’t deal with those who didn’t have something interesting to offer.  It had taken Buddy and Rita time to figure out their tastes, and even more to fabricate a program.  A hacking bot.  It wasn’t real of course, the only thing that made it halfway convincing at all was Rita piloting the thing remotely.  

“Yes, the price-” they drawled.  Nureyev did not take kindly to that tone.  “The price just went up.”

Nureyev’s eyebrows crept upwards while Juno bolted upright “Hey now!  We agreed to the terms before this even-”

“Micah, please”

“No!  So far they’ve tried to poison us and hid a goodie in their sample intel.  Now they want more .  Hell, they should be paying us for this-”

“Mr. Micah, please.  I merely desire to know what it is you hope to accomplish with the information.  And to get a taste for your program’s capabilities as you have of my intel.”

Nureyev pretended to consider it, placing a hand on Juno’s knee and tapping out a message, before saying “These appear to be fair terms, however, what I’m wondering is if there are any more hidden fees.”  

To say Mx. Balsa was slippery, was an understatement.  Nureyev had seen people like them before, knowledge brokers, able to root out and twist any grain of truth to their heart’s desire.  This was not someone he wanted to be investigated by.  Juno would be a veritable beacon.  Public employees were so easy to track-

Mx. Balsa took their time in testing the program.  Rita informed them when she’d gotten the virus set up in their system, it didn’t take her long at all.  Now they just had to play the wait game.  They fained interest in the intel, made up a story to satiate their curiosity and asked enough questions to avoid suspicion.  All the while Nureyev could feel his health take a steady trend downwards.  

Once or twice he thought they shot him a knowing look as his attention began to wonder, or that Jody was leaning in a little too closely.  He tugged at his collar absently, the sweat plastering his shirt to him under the corset.  It was hard to gauge if the pressure of the boning was having a positive or negative effect on the nausea.  If they knew he’d been poisoned, what would they do?  Would they try to revoke their deal?  Detain them?  Hurt them?  Hurt Juno?  

He could not let that happen, would not.  

Juno squeezed his thigh, startling him out of his thoughts.  Mx. Balsa was pushing a new chip towards them, the one with the information they’d spent the better part of a day mulling over.  It was encased in a silver embossed box, flashy and probably manufactured to ensure no one could scan its contents.

Nureyev took out his comms once more and clicked it into place.  It was all there, Rita checked for them.  Thank the stars it wasn’t another test.  After all, it would be suspicious if they left with only half the intel.  

“I believe that concludes our business.” he smiled, rising gratefully to his feet.  

“We’ve kept you so long, won’t you stay for dinner?”

“Dinner my ass.” Juno grumbled for only Nureyev’s ears.

“Didn’t quite catch that-” Mx. Balsa frowned.

“Ohh Sorry, we’ll pass, don’t feel like dying today.” Juno smiled, voice dripping in sarcasm.

“Ahh, Pity.”

Nureyev’s laugh was cut short from a stabbing pain in his abdomen.  He started again, swaying, hand pressed to his stomach.  Certain he’d find blood.

“Everything okay there Mr. Tillerson?”

Glancing down revealed only the pristine pearl embroidery of the corset.  No blade, no blood, he was…. fine-  

He released his death grip on the chair, quickly filing away that sensation best he could.  Their mission was nearly done after all, no need for theatrics now.

“Perfectly.” He smiled wider, displaying sharp teeth.  “We’ll show ourselves out.”

Jody made a big show of opening the doors for them so that the muscled chords of his biceps were on full display.  They’d just managed to step before slamming it shut at their backs.  

The smile Nureyev had been wearing, dissolved into a grimace. He set a brisk, if uneven, pace to the exit.  

“Hey- Ran-” Juno groaned “Tillerson!  Wait up!” Juno clacked to his side.  

“Apologies Micah, I merely-ah!” he stumbled over his feet, Juno caught him in his strong arms.

“Hey- are-are you alright?”

His head was still spinning and there was that question again.  He had no desire to deal with it at present. “I-”

“The truth this time.” Juno pressed, ever the persistent Lady.

“Just a tad under the weather-” he admitted.  

“Babe, why didn’t you say something-”

“Something I drank.  It’s fine love.”

Bone deep tiredness pulled him down.  He wanted nothing more than to surrender himself to the arms of his goddess.  It would be safe there, warm.

Juno looked like he was going to ask more questions but was interrupted.

A shrill cry tore through the hall.  It sounded like Mx. Balsa.

“What the hell?” Juno craned his neck to look.  "You don’t think they found it yet?“

"Let’s- not check.”  Nureyev entwined his arm with Juno’s, setting up a brisk pace towards the doors.  Relying on the Detective as one might a crutch.

There was a wash of hurried footsteps, people shouting, blasters charging- the only thing that made sense was security-

“I believe we’ve overstayed our welcome Detective!” Nureyev said.

“Ya Think!” Juno yelled back, voice cracking from the force of it.  Even so- he withdrew a fist full of blaster from the dress slit.

But Nureyev wasn’t focusing on Juno, wasn’t focusing on the escape.  Jody was barreling on through the guards, weapon raised and charging and trained on-

“Micah!”  He slammed into Juno just as the bolt whizzed past striking another employee.  They rotated so that he could serve as Juno’s shield while giving him time to line up a shot.  It might have worked too if he’d been a little quicker-  

The next thing he knew he was violently ripped from the Detective.  A strong, bulky arm wrapped about his throat, crushing it.

Jody-

It had to be, few could make Nureyev’s toes leave the ground.  His chest quaked with strain of forcing air in and out of his constricted windpipe.  He kicked for purchase, skiving off the panic by attempting to worm his forearm up through the choke hold; the other diving into a pocket for a blade.

“Tillerson!” Juno shouted.

“Important to you isn’t he.” Their voice was surprisingly soft and high for their bulk.

Juno fired two shots beyond them, he must have hit his mark because there was the sound of something hitting the floor.  

Jody jerked back, causing stars to burst in front of Nureyev’s vision.  Fear clouded his mind, making him claw at the bodyguard.  Even so he blindly groped for the familiar curvature of a handle-

“No more of that-” they warned “Or I will be forced to-” but what they’d be forced to do was lost.  

Nureyev found a knife amongst the stashed trinkets and baubles, he had just enough wherewithal to mouth ‘ ready- ’ before manically plunging the blade into the brute’s thigh.

They howled, dropping Nureyev.  Juno sent a stunner straight to their chest as soon as his partner was clear.  The lady darted forwards, catching the thief under arm and hauling farther along the passage.  Nureyev, for his part, gulped down air and forced his sluggish legs to take his weight.  

They had no choice but to run.  Nureyev readied fresh blades, easier to locate now his brain had a proper supply of oxygen.  Pressed for time as they were, he couldn’t help but notice he wasn’t recovering like he ought to.

They rounded a corner and “Damn it” Juno hissed, taking in the thick ring of guards round a door “There’s too many-”

Manny there were.  But they also appeared green, scared.  Nureyev didn’t need three decades of experience reading people to know they could be intimidated.  

“Perhaps-” he puffed, flashing a wiry smile.  "Let’s see what they are made of.“  It was all the warning he gave before sprinting towards the group.  

It was a foolish plan, a desperate one.  There were screams and shouts as Nureyev’s blades flashed.  He had to give them a little credit, they held ranks far longer than he’d imagined them capable.  That all changed with the first spray of blood.  Typically he’d aim to wound in Juno’s presence; but with the way his hands shook he was taking any opening that presented itself.

Distantly he could hear the bite of Juno’s words as he called out and could feel his presence joining at his side.  The two of them versus the small army of guards.  He allowed himself to get caught up in the simple rhythm of the moment.  

For the first time since the mission started, Nureyev’s mind cleared.  All there was was the ache of his breath, the burn in his limbs and the death defying dance with Juno Steel.  

They shot and sliced their way to an opening; clawed a path to the hall, the entrance way and the street beyond and-

Sweet escape-

This - this moment right here, was what Nureyev lived for.

The dizzying rush of the night air spurred the pair on until all sounds of pursuit faded.  Despite his long legs and penchant for running, Juno easily kept pace.  He could feel it now, the sickness worrying away at him from the inside.  He didn’t know how much more he could take before his legs would give out or lungs burst.  Still he pushed harder, dug deeper, counting his steps to drown out the complaints of the body.  

At long last they stumbled into an ally way; a narrow thing that reeked of misuse.  

"Okay- What the Hell!” Juno rounded on Nureyev, eye flashing in the dim light of the dome.

Nureyev swallowed, hardly able to keep his focus on the Detective.  The light cardio had left him feeling queasy and weak.  Wrong.  He supposed poison on an empty stomach would do that to you.  Not to mention how tender his throat was after Jody’s mistreatment.  

He put a hand to his clammy forehead, swaying a little.

“I thought I was the reckless one,” he lectured “the one that went off half co- babe?  Nureyev?!!!”

He’d doubled over, retching earnestly this time.  Just as before, there was nothing to bring up-  The cruel dry heaves cramped his core and set his eyes watering, legs folding under the crushing weight of it.  

“Babe, heyheyhey, hey~ I got you-” strong arms wrapped around him, propping him up, “I’ve got you.” Small circles worked into his back as they waited for it to end.

“S-sorry-” he gasped between convulsions.  They didn’t have time for this, they didn’t have time for any of this.  Yet here he was endangering Juno with his own ineptitude.  “I’m- ss-”

“Ugh-uh, no, you’re not doing that.” Juno cut him off.  “Hell, when you said you weren’t feeling good-”  Nureyev made to apologize again, but Juno gave a warning “hun”

He slumped against the brickwork, trembling and breathing heavily.  

“Done?”

Nureyev gave a non committal hum.  It was all he trusted himself to manage.  

All the same, a moment was afforded to him to clean up with a moist towelette.  Again his makeup was ruined, but he was far from caring.  The important thing at present was to leave this city behind.  

Juno seemed to be thinking along the same vein.  “Think you can stand?  Or should I contact Jet?”

“No need for that love.” Nureyev smiled weakly, nausea churning within “Just give me a hand.”  

The Detective obliged, neatly entangled their fingers and pulled him along using his comms to navigate.  He was mighty grateful for the assistance, between the stomach ache and the weight in his limbs, he was having difficulty remaining upright.  

Nureyev eyed the nooks and crannies of the back streets.  Had he been alone he’d likely of spent the night curled up in one of those charming locations.  Cold and cramped, but out of sight.  He sighed, surrendering himself to the guidance of his goddess.  

“Hello Ruby.” Nureyev greeted wirily.  It chirped in response alerting Jet to their presence.  The door swung open of the Ruby’s own volition and the pair slid in.  “Jet-”

“Ransom.”  Jet acknowledged.

“Hey big guy.”

“Are either of you injured?” he asked, glancing back in the rearview mirror.  “I ask because of the blood.”

“Don’t think so.  Had to get a little rough on the getaway.” Juno explained glancing down at his gore streaked dress and coat.  “Honestly, if we could move out, that would be great.  I don’t really fancy meeting up with those nut jobs again.”

Nureyev hummed in agreement.  Doing his level best to keep his expression neutral and his breathing measured.  He must look a mess judging by the way Jet kept eyeing him.  

Turbulence made him gasp as pain blossomed in his abdomen.  His composure slipping and rearranging like water.  He slouched lower, trying to get some relief-

Juno was talking with Jet, or talking at him more like.  Nureyev stopped listening after the first few moments, lulled instead by his Lady’s warm voice and the way it crackled at the edges when he became impassioned.  He was just so tired-

Before he knew it, the thief was leaning on the Detective’s shoulder, sinking into his side, bloodshot eyes fluttering shut.  Normally he’d be loathed to sleep at the end of a job like some worn out child.  But he couldn’t fight anymore.