#juno dahlia 'get your own drink' rose steel

[waters-and-the-wilde]

WELL HUH looks like I basically got that 'Nureyev are you trying to climb out that window???' scenario I spent like the duration of S4 picturing

[oneunicornaway]

Date Night

I did the whole spiel once already, but the gist of it is: Jupeter date. Heist. Mafia. Juno is a badass, and Peter is horny.

Thanks a lot to @chyww, @tackyjackpack, and @tinyplanetss for the emotional support, willingness to correct my grammar at times, and general awesomeness <3 <3 <3

This is pretty long and might be better on AO3

"I promise you, Juno, that this will be the best date anyone has ever taken you on."

Juno had sputtered and fidgeted and had been damn close to hanging up the phone right then, but in the end he couldn't deny that the idea of having Peter Nureyev, best thief in the galaxy, concentrated only on him for one whole night, was a very enticing one. Which is why he had listened to Nureyev when he had given him a time and place and had accepted to 'dress up a bit'.

It's not exactly that he regretted it... not really, it's just that he felt utterly ridiculous clad in his favorite jumpsuit and jacket and light make up, as he waited at the corner of Fitzgerald and 6th.

Just as he was considering leaving, date be damned, or at least removing his earrings, to feel a bit less out of place, someone came up behind him. Without thinking, Juno turned on himself, fist at the ready, only to strike at empty air, merely displacing a bit of Peter Nureyev's hair with the movement.

The thief's smile was wide and amused. Juno's heart missed a bit.

"I'm happy to see you're as vigilant as ever, Juno."

His movement was slow but sure as he approached Juno, and the PI was torn between slapping the smile off his face and leaning into his embrace.

Peter's hand curled around his waist and Juno considered the fact that no one cared if he spent his life smooching Peter Nureyev's face off. Nureyev made the kiss last and linger and yet he couldn't get enough of it. It felt as though the world stopped every time the thief kissed him, was near him, as though Juno could feel the universe expand outwards, as if suddenly, he wasn't only Juno Steel, former garbage cop, beat detective and one-eyed loser. Peter Nureyev made him feel as though there was more to Mars, more to the stars above that didn't shine through the dome, and Juno didn't ever want it to stop.

Peter gently ended the kiss, and it took Juno some efforts not to cling to him. Nureyev didn't seem to have the same reserves, and he let his hand linger in Juno's hair, lightly caressing his cheek with his thumb.

"I missed you."

"Yeah... I... me too."

Feelings were dumb and he had a lot of them. Benzaiten would have made so much fun of him.

Peter let his hand fall to take Juno’s.

"Shall we?"

"Sure."

As it was, Juno wouldn't have minded staying alone with Peter Nureyev in a random, dark street. Here, besides the thief's side, the shadows seemed almost welcoming. But Nureyev had promised a wonderful date, and Juno Steel didn’t get many of those, and so he was rather curious of what the thief had imagined for him.

"So, what adventures have you been part of lately? My wonderful detective."

Juno scoffed.

"I don't think I would call them 'adventures'. The life of a PI is not as interesting as it sounds, you know."

Nureyev smiled fondly and pressed lightly on his hand, making a soothing motion with his thumb that left Juno’s skin tingling with heat.

"I beg to differ, considering our history together - Nureyev sounded positively gleeful at being able to say 'our history'. Besides, as long as it's about you, I wouldn't mind hearing boring stories."

That was... annoyingly smooth.

"Well then, brace yourself for the riveting story of the thousand cheating spouses, with a side of tax evasion and one very badly executed museum heist."

Nureyev chuckled, and Juno went on to tell the preposterous story of one cheating wife, who had managed to put together a whole scheme to keep the identity of her famous lover a secret.

As he talked, he could feel the tension leave his body, Nureyev's presence going from a burning furnace to reassuring fireplace embers, which warmed him up to the core without burning his skin. He was halfway through explaining the extensive mailing system he had found out, the key to solve the case, when they arrived at their destination.

"I have a reservation for Duke and Dahlia Rose." Announced Nureyev, seemingly completely at ease with suddenly taking up Duke Rose’s personae.

After the internal roller coaster that the names provoked in Juno - Nureyev never gave his name in public places, and Juno got an alias most of the time as well, but Duke and Dahlia were married and it always felt as though Nureyev was pushing him over an edge of sentimentality that he wasn't ready to cross by himself - he took in the place Nureyev had brought him in. It was a restaurant, and despite being in one of the shadiest part of town, it seemed to be rather upper class. The walls were richly decorated with dark red hangings and some precious looking vases on their own small tables. The restaurant was only half-full, and the people already seated wore discreetly rich clothes and pieces of jewelry, a rare occurrence in Hyperion city, where people either showed you how poor they were, or fled you for not being rich enough.

There were a few waiters, but they didn't seem to be entirely overcome with their clients. One of them didn't even seem to take care of any of them, and was instead carrying some boxes to the kitchen. Apart from the mild murmur of ongoing conversations, the place was eerily calm. There was no yelling bartender, no singing group of drunk friends, no drunkard by the bar and no greasy meat that looked like it had spent four year in a cryogenic fridge. This was a place for Duke and Dahlia Rose, world class thieves and art collectors.

Juno felt like a fly on the wall.

"Do you like it, love?" Asked Nur... Duke Rose after Juno had absentmindedly followed him to their table.

"Um? Yeah, sure."

Was this the best date ever Nureyev had promised him? Did he think he liked this? Worse, did he expect him to like this? To be just as elegant and refined as a Dahlia Rose?

There was a pit in his stomach, growing by the second, and it tasted like bitter disappointment.

The same waiter passed by them, hefting once again an unlabeled package, and paying them no mind.

 Wait.

Juno followed the waiter with his eyes, until he disappeared in what didn't quite look like a proper restaurant's kitchen.

What.

He lowered his eyes to his menu. At first glance it seemed like a normal menu for a restaurant of this kind. Looking closely however, there wasn't much choice for such a refined place, and a good third of the dishes were annotated in pencil with notes that indicated they weren't served at the time, or that the kitchen didn't have one ingredient anymore. All in all, Juno was growing increasingly more convinced that this place wasn’t, in fact, what it pretended to be.

Juno looked up at his companion. Duke Rose had one elbow resting on the table, cupping his face in one hand as he smiled up adoringly in the perfect picture of an enamored idiot. And below that surface, Juno could see the sharp edges of Nureyev's enjoyment.

What a beautiful bastard.

"Duke, darling" Juno said, trying his best Dahlia's voice, "who did you say owns this restaurant again?"

"Oh, a very respectable constable of Hyperion city, love. Their name is Rosamund Lorland I believe."

Of fucking course.

Peter wasn't restraining himself much anymore, offering a smug smile that made Juno want to strangle him. He settled for kicking him under the table, but it seemed the thief had anticipated the move, and his foot only met air.

"Good evening."

A waitress interrupted Juno's attempts, looking young, sweet, and ready to murder for a pay raise.

"What can I get you tonight? Do you want to start with some drinks?"

Before Juno could say anything, Duke Rose ordered what seemed like a full menu for himself and Dahlia. As he said the last part of their order—some kind of "boeuf bourguignon", whatever that meant—the waitress' demeanor changed. It was subtle enough that Juno only caught it because he was still looking at her, but her eyes focused, and her stance adjusted slightly.

"I'm sorry, but this order is no longer available. The shipment for the ingredients of the dressing is late."

They even had a decent excuse. Peter had not only led him to a front, it was even a good one.

Charming as ever, Duke did not back down, insisting instead.

"Surely, something can be arranged? I promised my husband he would get to taste this delicacy you are known to provide."

Juno ignored the sudden drop in his stomach to try a Dahlia smile at the waitress. She looked defiantly at the two of them, but ended up conceding:

"I'll try and talk to my manager, see what he can do."

She left, and Juno went back to glaring at his so-called husband. Peter smiled sweetly and it took a lot of effort for Juno not to leap over the table and commit marital violence

"There are no bugs in here, so you can talk freely as long as you make sure that you look as charming as ever." Peter finally said, with a small, fond smile that was as much his as it was Duke's.

"What the hell, Nureyev?!" Juno tried to keep up a Dahlia smile. "First of all, I thought this was supposed to be a date. Second of all, if this is one of your heists, I will actually turn you in this time, and faster than you can say my name. And last but not least, why the hell did you just give the mafia a good reason to kill us both?!"

Peter Nureyev, because he was a scheming, lying bastard, didn't have any problem keeping up his persona as he responded.

"Well then. To respond in kind, here are my points. First of all, this is a date. Did you really think I expected you to be satisfied with a boring dinner and a quiet evening? I did say it was going to be wonderful, and I know how much you like solving mysteries and being a hero, especially with your recent string of boring affairs, and so I delivered."

Damn that bastard, but he... wasn't exactly wrong. Despite Juno's annoyance, this was more interesting than a simple dinner. Peter obviously saw the resignation in Juno's face because he gave him a smug eyebrow waggle, disguised as Duke presenting the jug of water to Dahlia. Juno grumpily went back to glaring and Duke served him some water before resuming the conversation.

"Second of all, this is... well, this isn't only a heist." For the first time, Peter seemed somewhat bashful and Juno straightened to give him a piece of his mind. "But, love," - that man knew how to silence him much too well - "Rosamund Lorland is, I believe, a very dangerous man, and his recent drug deals are on the brink of starting a war with the Triads. I do believe this little... adventure could give us what you need to convict him. As for turning me in..." Peter offered a sly smile "I think we both remember how that turned out last time. And while I wouldn't exactly mind, I think we both can think of better ways to spent our late evening... don't you?"

Juno could feel his cheeks burning up. There was more he wanted to ask, more questions Nureyev had to answer to, but by the time he was recovered, the waitress had turned up again.

"The manager wants to see you. Come with me please."

Juno stood up at the same time as Peter, and the waitress didn't protest. She led them through the restaurant to the kitchen. If any other customer was surprised at their passage, none of them showed it and, as far as Juno could tell, watched them go by placidly.

Inside, the cover was dropped. There was a chef of course, but it seemed like the dishes he was preparing weren't nearly as delicious or as varied as the menu made them out to be.

And then, of course, looking prim and awesome, stood Rosamund Lorland.

Juno recognized them from the picture that used to hang in the precinct of the HCPD. Lorland was young for a crime lord, younger than most mafia leaders, and younger than Juno himself. They were the former commander of a Triad squadron. Impatient and hot headed, they had been quick to cause more trouble than the HCPD usually saw in organized crime. It wasn't clear whether they had been kicked out of the Triad for making too much trouble or if they had abandoned ship to pursue their own, private goals, but one thing was certain: one year after Lorland began getting a name for themselves they founded their own mafia family, in direct concurrence with the Triad and all drug trafficking groups. In a sense, Lorland was far from the worst of the criminal to roam the street of Hyperion City. They sold drugs to anyone that could afford it, including kids and homeless people with enough cash to forget their radiation poisoning, and they commanded a full-fledged underground militia made out of all the outcasts, the ones nobody wanted to see employed in their shop or near their children, the worst of Hyperion City. But then again, in that, they weren't straying from your usual mafia boss or crime boss, and while Juno didn't have to like it, but he knew that wasn't why Rosamund Lorland was a big fish to catch for the HCPD.

The thing was, Lorland was ambitious, and Lorland was a firm believer of doing things their own way.

Lorland had begun selling their various drugs in Triad, Kanagawa and Adichi territories. This had already led to several open fights between Lorland's factions and the older, more institutionalized mafiosi. Nobody in their right mind appreciated the fact that there were mafias in Hyperion City, but anyone could recognize that they liked to keep the peace almost as much as the city's police department. Lorland, was, for all intent and purpose, the troublemaker that threw a wrench in the balance Hyperion's civilians had found amongst the chaos that was the city.

It was obvious that this new mafia lord was more than ready to start a war, and Juno, amongst other, found Hyperion's streets animated enough already. He stole a glance at Nureyev. That bastard really knew how to manipulate him. He did want to put Lorland in a prison cell, and Nureyev was nothing if not freakingly good at stealing pretty much anything from whoever was stupid enough to buy into one of his various personae. After all, there was, really, no technical difference between stealing evidence and any precious artefact.

Juno was going to go along with this, wasn't he.

Duke Rose smiled pleasantly at Lorland, and it seemed as though it had a triumphant edge to it. Juno had to suppress a smile of his own. One had to admit Peter Nureyev was good at what he did. Even when what he did was convince beat-up PIs to bend their morals, it seemed.

"I heard you requested to see me." Lorland extended a hand for Duke to shake. "Duke Rose, is that it?" Their voice was exceedingly melodious, in a very deliberate way that sounded immediately pompous to Juno's ear. That was good, the more full of themselves they were, the easier it would be to make them think the Rose couple didn't represent any kind of threat. However, Lorland had successfully managed to put together a business despite being threatened by Hyperion City's largest mafia families and they were far from stupid. It would do no good for Juno to overlook them as simply what they appeared, and he resolved to keep a close eye on them.

"Duke and Dahlia Rose, in fact" At this, Lorland looked at him. Dahlia would have been smoking a cigar or something along those lines; as it were, Juno's lungs were shit, so he had to settle with giving what was supposed to be a haughty glance. "As you may know, my husband's family is of a certain... importance throughout the galaxy" - at this, Lorland gave the slightest nod, which made Juno wonders if Nureyev had managed to give his fictional relatives enough substance that they actually had a reputation, or if Lorland merely didn't want to admit to not knowing them - "and we would be interested in dealing with you, and to buy... merchandises... from your organization."

Juno had to make an effort not to roll his eyes at the unnecessary dramatic tone.

But then he realized Dahlia Rose didn't give a shit about speaking his mind or being rude.

"What my husband is trying to say is, we'd like to buy your coke."

Lorland smiled at the deadpan voice, and nodded.

"Of course. Our product is of very high quality. Would you like to try it?"

Dahlia arched an eyebrow in what Juno hoped to be a pointed way.

"No. I have a strict policy of never sampling the product. It makes one slow, and I can't have that."

Lorland laughed, softly and politely like a politician.

"Well then, I think this deserves you visit the parlor. Candis? Would you mind telling Val to come up? I'm going to need her."

Juno and Peter's waitress nodded curtly and swiftly left the room, while Lorland gestured for them both to follow.

Juno took the opportunity to steal a glance at Nureyev, only to see that the thief was already looking at him intently. When he saw Juno looking, though, his intense demeanor dropped to break into a smile, and Duke reappeared on his face.

"I have to admit I'm quite surprised you're coming to me with this. Don't me wrong, I would say we are the best suppliers on Mars, but I doubt an enterprise such as yours needs to go so far to get its merchandise."

"Oh, the problem is not with the merchandise itself," Peter intervened, to Juno's relief. "But we've been having what you could call... legal problems. I'm sure you understand."

Once again, Lorland nodded, eager to seem all knowing, and Juno relaxed slightly. For all their obvious smarts, they also seemed to be a very proud character, which—Juno had observed it in the past—made them an easy target for Peter's manipulation.

Not that he approved of the thief's methods.

 Lorland led them through unmarked corridor for what seemed like several minutes. They climbed down some stairs, then up others, and up again, turning several times. By the time they arrived in front of a simple, unlabeled door, Juno was thoroughly disoriented.

They entered in what seemed to be an office, and Lorland began talking about prices, schedules, meeting places. Peter responded in kind, apparently fully prepared to deploy an entire fictive market for the Rose network. Juno tried as best as he could to appear bored rather than lost, and scanned the room whenever he felt secure enough in the knowledge that Lorland was concentrating on Peter. The room seemed like the normal desk room of any businessman, although it was a bit barer that Juno would have expected. No pricey paintings hung on the wall, and while the room was decorated, it was in a comfortable way rather than a showy one.

Eventually Juno spotted something interesting.

The walls weren't entirely bare, as it was. There were several bookshelves artfully stacked behind the desk, and besides one of them... a patch of paint that reflected the light emitted by the ceiling lamp slightly differently. It was so discreet Juno might not have spotted it... were it not for the fact that he had a similar spot in his own office, from clipping a wall after one drink too many. Rita had put plaster which hid the hole almost flawlessly, but looking closely at it, you could see a faint difference in the paint’s color where the light hit it. Somehow, he doubted this was the result of one of Lorland's burst of anger—the oman seemed exceedingly composed—and if there was an emplacement for any kind of valuable object Peter was after, it would most likely be there.

Juno was really going through with this, wasn't he? Somehow, he couldn't find it in himself to mind.

Someone knocked at the office door, and Lorland, looking unsurprised, called them inside.

"Val, there you are! I need your help to draw a contract for those gentlemen."

"I'm a lady, please." Juno corrected out of automatism.

Lorland rolled with this without breaking a sweat, and went on to point out some of the specifications Peter had given. Val looked like death had warmed over. Pale, and bone-thin, with deep, purplish shadow under her eyes. She wasn’t that old, from what Juno could tell, but she looked as though a slight breeze might break her in half.

"I suppose you will want to go over the legal matters with Val?” Finally said Lorland. “She’s my main jurist." Duke Rose agreed with a flourish Juno blocked out.

"Then, shall the lady and I go and oversee the merchandise? I know you said you didn't want to test it, but surely you want to take a look at it."

Juno shot a discreet glance at Peter, who near imperceptibly (or so Juno hoped) nodded.

"Your desire for honesty honors you. Duke!"

Duke Rose was like an overeager puppy, Juno decided, as Peter bounded over to him.

He took hold of Duke's collar and brought him in for a kiss, silently gesturing towards the patch of wall with his eyes.

Even inside enemy territory, kissing Peter was like drinking rejuvenating water, and Juno would probably have lost himself in it, if he hadn't felt Peter's hands roaming his body. First, he could feel the thief testing the give of his hip, where he kept his holster —and god, was Juno happy for his paranoia at this moment – and checked for the presence of Juno’s blaster. Then, he carefully pressed something under the flap of Juno's jacket, where it would be hidden from Lorland's eyes.

Juno heard a cough from behind him and detached himself from his wannabe husband. Duke seemed ready to chase after him, looking desperate and glazed for an instant. And Juno was sure it was a mask, the face of a man Peter only pretended to be, but this look of open desire, of near neediness, made it hard for Juno to remind himself they were technically still doing business.

"Be good." Dahlia finally said, in his imperious voice, and Duke nodded, obedient and star-struck. Juno didn’t dare to send a glance towards the frail Val to make his point across. He just had to trust that Nureyev knew him as well as he pretended to and would understand the meaning behind his words.

Then, he abruptly looked back at Lorland, who bowed their head slightly, letting Juno get out of the room before them and following him in the corridors.

As the mafioso led him through the complex, he discreetly put a hand to what Peter had stuck into his jacket. It seemed to be a small electronic device, probably an audio recorder or a camera, but Juno couldn't be sure. In any case, this was genius. All Juno had to do was to follow Lorland directly to the evidence of his drug deals.

This time, the way was rather straightforward, and, considering the number of stairs they had to take, the hall in which Lorland led him was underground. It was large and well lit, and seemed to be working like Juno would have assumed a standard factory to. Juno counted a dozen workers in chemistry goons and white masks, which protected them from inhaling too much of the substance they were working with. They also—Juno noted with a twinge of annoyance—hid their face from their eyes down. Lorland led Juno to the end of the hall, where a person, made anonymous by their working clothes, was closing small packages full of white powder and tidying them up into neat piles. Lorland pointed at the display.

"Those would be the type of merchandise we would sell you, as per our agreement."

Juno nodded, trying to get closer to the bags. He hoped the device contained a camera because it didn’t seem as though Lorland was ever going to talk without euphemism, and he needed the evidence to be as tight as possible.

"Would you mind if I took a look for myself?" Juno could feel Dahlia's persona slipping, slowly, away from him, but he desperately needed something that would actually incriminate Lorland.

"Of course, go ahead." The oman responded pleasantly, but Juno was acutely aware of the pair of pale eyes drilling holes into him.

He didn't really know how to recognize good coke. Coke, sure, it was part of the training as a cop, and you had to be able to say whether you were arresting someone for poorly labeled flour or for actual crack. But he had never taken a hit himself, and he didn't know how to assess the quality short of snorting the stuff.

He looked at the little bag quizzically, trying to look as though he was examining it from different angles so that he could put it under what he hoped was a lens. He was almost sure he had the evidence necessary—provided Nureyev did give him a camera—when Lorland spoke again.

"So, would you say you got a good look at my premises, milady... Dahlia Rose?"

Lorland's words sounded slow, careful, almost deliberate. Juno froze, and turned his head minutely, to look back towards them.

"Beg your pardon?"

Lorland took a step towards him, and Juno instinctively took a step back.

"I know my circuit is far from the most developed on Mars, let alone in the universe, but you should have known not to underestimate us."

Lorland kept advancing, and Juno kept retreating, to the point where he'd soon hit the wall behind him.

"It was clever using the name of the Roses, but I doubt you are in any way related to them."

Around them, the employees had dropped their initial task, and were looking in his direction. Several of them had lowered their mask and opened their lab coat to reveal a variety of weapons.

"I have to admit, your lackey was rather well-prepared, but you got too arrogant in the end. Did you really think I had noticed nothing?"

Juno had no moment to consider the hilarity of Peter Nureyev being anyone’s assistant, much less his, before Lorland produced a gun out of his jacket.

Juno was sure the mafioso was about to give him dramatic parting words, but he didn’t have that kind of time. Before Lorland could say anything, Juno did the only thing he could think of and threw the bag of coke at Lorland's eyes, before diving to the side.

Lorland sputtered and tried to shoot at Juno, but the surprise and the powder exploding in his face made them flail and the shot missed Juno by a mile.

Juno wiped out his own gun and blasted the employee closest to him, the one still standing besides the table full of coke packagings. The man dropped down, stunned and unlikely to get up again for a while. Juno dropped behind the table with his slack body.

He accepted the rest of the mafia to drop down on him as soon as they could, and for him to be quickly overwhelmed, but after a few seconds, he realized the room was oddly silent. Risking a peak, he realized the dozen mafiosi—including Lorland, who seemed to have somewhat recovered despite puffy red eyes—were looking a him warily. More specifically, they were looking at the table in front of him, full of fragile coke packagings.

Oh. Seemed like Rosamund Lorland needed a lesson in where to pick their battle. Juno couldn't help but smile as he picked up several white bags. Nobody dared to shoot him and the precious merchandise, but he was sure they were going to come up with some kind of plan quickly. He had to be quicker.

Thing was, Juno had never been that good at planning. Doing, he was okay at, but planning was an entirely different game.

He did the first thing he could think of. That is, to throw the handful of bags he had towards his assailant and shoot one of them before ducking back behind the table. The bag exploded, and a confused scuffle rang out. Several shots hit Juno's table and soon the air was full of coke dust. A cry rang out, and Juno instantly knew they were coming for him. In a moment of clarity, he took the mask of the passed out mafioso to put it against his own mouth and nose, and scrambled along the wall, trying as well as he could to stay hidden from view. But the steps behind him were fast: it wouldn’t take them long to find him, and then one shot would be enough.

Suddenly, an alarm rang out. Juno only had the time to be surprised before it stopped, just as the lights above him abruptly went off, with a resounding “CLACK”. In an instant, the whole hall was shrouded in darkness, and Juno listened to the confused silence around him.

A muffled cry of pain rang out, breaking the silence, and something heavy and fleshy dropped to the ground not too far from Juno, and suddenly the whole room exploded in the confused and angry orders of Lorland’s underlings trying to reorganize themselves. A smile forced itself on Juno's smile and he called out to the darkness.

"Be nice."

"You know me, Dahlia" said Peter, "I'm always nice."

Juno heard what could easily be interpreted as Peter putting another mafioso in a sleeper’s hold, muffling their cry of surprise somehow and letting their body fall down to the ground once they were unconscious, and Juno had to refrain a snort.

Peter didn't seem to have any problems navigating through the darkness, and when he took Juno's hand, it was to guide him firmly towards a source of dim light, making him bend down and crawl before him in a narrow space. As Juno's eyes adjusted, he realized it was an opened air vent that led directly outside. He didn’t recognize the street, but it was large, and dimly lit, and he could only assume they weren’t too far from the restaurant in which Peter had led him earlier. They were probably in one of the outer districts, those who were battling against the Martian desert and were full of decrepit, abandoned building. Far from prying, witnessing eyes.

As soon as they were both through, Juno turned to Peter.

"Do you have everything you need?"

The thief smiled, and pulled Juno against him, delicately pushing the protective mask down.

"I do."

Juno flushed, and was about to protest when a door he previously hadn't seen opened, revealing several goons sputtering as they tumbled outside. The light seemed to be back in the factory, probably thanks to an emergency generator.

Juno cursed, and he and Peter began to run, from a common, silent accord.

"Here!"

Peter tugged on his hand and Juno ungracefully tumbled behind him, under some kind of electric generator, emerging from the uneven ground. The shouting didn't stop behind him, and the streets in front of them didn't offer for much cover. Neither Nureyev nor him said anything, but Juno knew they had to find a way to distract Lorland while they were escaping, or they would end up the evening with more holes in them than Juno was personally comfortable with.

From their barely hidden spot they could see the narrow windows of the factory, who were obscured by a faint, pale sort of mist, and they could hear the coughing fits of Lorland's employees and associates. The commotion must have kicked even more of the drug into the air, Juno noted.

And he had a sudden, terrible, stupid idea.

"I'm going to regret this" he mumbled, as he straightened his back to try and make the shot.

"Juno! What are you..."

"Shush." Juno said firmly, with a very Dahlia like confidence. Lorland and company hadn't spotted him yet, but it wouldn't take long before they did, and Juno only had one shot at this. He pictured the blast's trajectory; breathed, in, and out. And fired.

For some reason, he expected it to be delayed, to take a few instants. Instead, as soon as the blast tore through the glass widow, the room exploded. Juno winced, but as far as he could tell, the explosion wasn't too violent, and the screaming didn't stop so he assumed (hopped, desperately) nobody had actually died from it. However, he was willing to bet Lorland's precious refinery equipment was done for, and it seemed the explosion had started a small but rapidly growing fire, making the mafiosi thoroughly distracted.

"Come on, let's go." He took Peter's hand in his, leading him away from the scene and in the nearest dark corner. As he walked, he dialed one of the memorized number in his phone.

"Hello? Yeah, I'd like to report a fire down..." he squinted at the street sign "Terrienstreet." He hung up before anyone could ask for his name. Maybe Khan would recognize his number, but by then he'd have caught a whole mafia ring, so Juno figured he was in the clear.

A taxi was passing by and he hollered for it, getting in it quick and fast and rattling off an address not too far from his place, while Peter climbed in right behind him.

And just like that, they were gone.

 Juno was still holding Peter's hand as they made their escape through the city, squeezing it harder than he really meant to, adrenaline still coursing through his veins. He looked up at the thief, and met dark eyes, staring into him with intensity.

"It seems as though you had fun."

Juno then realized the grin tearing through his own face. He thought about Rex Glass’ foxy smile, smug and full of sharp teeth, and wondered if it was how he looked to Peter at the moment.

"Yeah, I..." he had to admit, "I think I did actually."

Peter smiled, looking way too charming and smart for it to be soft, but Juno thought he could get away with calling it fond.

The thief used the hand that was still intertwined with Juno to drag the lady towards him, making him lean in the car from one side to another.

"I'm truly glad you did."

And then Peter Nureyev pulled him down to kiss him.

 The taxi driver had to throw them out in the end, and Juno would have said he was ashamed to have been making out with his boyfriend like a goddamn teenager, but he really, really wasn't.

Peter's hand didn't leave his as they made their rather hurried way towards Juno's flat. When Juno opened his door, however, he felt compelled to stop his momentum to turn and face Nureyev.

Peter stared back, looking neither surprised nor worried.

"Do you want to come in?"

Peter stepped closer, until their chests were a hair away from touching each other.

"I would very much like that, yes."

There was more to Juno's idea, there really was, but not kissing Peter Nureyev at this moment would have been a task he wasn't strong enough to undertake.

When he detached himself from Peter, the thief looked very much like Duke Rose had earlier, dazed and wanton, and it sent a shiver up Juno's spine.

"I really think it was, you know." Juno ceded to the temptation of running his hand up and down Peter’s neck. The thief seemed thoroughly distracted by the touch, and his response was a bit more delayed then Juno would have excepted.

"That it… was what?”

"The best date I've ever had." Peter’s half-lidded eyes shot open at the words, and Juno, for the time since he had met him, thought he may have managed to tear through Peter Nureyev’s cool composure.

"I... Thank you."

Well, this was rather out of character. Juno couldn’t help but chuckle in unexpected giddiness.

"What? I don't get a smug, smooth response, from Peter Nureyev, best thief in the whole wide galaxy?"

Peter’s smile, this time, was almost bashful – although Juno didn’t miss there was still a sharpness to it, dormant behind Peter’s pliant demeanor.

"I guess Duke Rose's rubbing of off me."

Peter crowded closer.

"Yeah,” Juno let his grip grow more imperious on Peter’s neck and throat, guiding the thief where he wanted him. “I guess Dahlia's rubbing of off me too."

When Juno kissed him, Peter felt soft and wielding under his lips. The feeling was intoxicating, as if Peter Nureyev was finally ready to drop his final mask with him by, just this one time, yielding control over to him, and Juno nearly drowned in it, crowding Peter until the thief had to cling to him to keep his balance. When Juno finally managed to detach himself from silken - soft and sharp lips - Peter was still relaying on him to defy gravity, and his eyes bore through Juno as if they could reach directly into his soul.

"How long are you staying this time?"

"A few weeks, most likely."

It wasn't forever, maybe, but for now it was enough.

[wendy-comet]

"Your ‘miracle hangover cure’ couldn’t possibly beat mine." Jupeter (25 of idk)

look it is ANOTHER CHAPTER in the jupeter wedding series where;;; they were supposed to get married in this chapter I promise. next chapter. definitely. this one features more sappy jupeter flirting, stargazing, and Important Conversations.first part. second part. third part.

share one more drink with me

Rita probably could have made a hell of a lot of money planning weddings - Juno was glad she hadn’t discovered this true passion before he’d hired her as an assistant. She took to it like light to a gravity well, and with only the minimum of complaints about the small size of the ceremony.

Nureyev didn’t have anyone he wanted to invite. His exact words had been “Juno, the only person I trust enough to invite to something like this is the one I’m getting married to.” The discussion had trailed off after that, words and sentences replaced by touches and sighs and moans. Their discussions tended to follow that route when Nureyev said things like that.

Juno had relented under Rita’s passive-aggressive reminders and agreed to invite Sasha and Mick. “They’re your friends, Mister Steel, they love you! I promise, I can get invites to both of ‘em, priority and everything!”

The flowers were bought (dahlias and roses, because Nureyev was a goddamn drama queen who couldn’t resist the callback to dear Dahlia Rose), the venue booked (somewhere small, but it promised to be sand-free and a traditional Earth aesthetic that Nureyev had downright cooed over), and the food and drinks catered (turns out in addition to being tall glasses of water themselves, Vicky’s vixens and regnards were all excellent at mixing drinks and cooking. It also helped that service was free to old friends getting married, on the condition that she and her wife could attend the ceremony.)

Nureyev apparently just ‘happened to own’ two white suits that were totally coincidentally tailored to fit him and Juno.

Yeah, there was no way he didn’t con someone into making them.

Juno didn’t mind. He especially didn’t mind when they tried the suits on. Look, it was in no way his fault that they both looked that good in suits. Therefore, it was also not his fault that they almost ruined said suits having a little bit of fun.

Things were going well.

Too well.

It was autumn on Mars, the season just beginning to turn into winter. Sand pale as snow scattered across the streets, chased by wind like a fox after a rabbit. The chill in the air deadened the usual metal-blood-trash stink of the city, and the colors all seemed crisper.

Nureyev seemed even more dramatic and sappy than usual - which was saying a lot, considering the man had literally proposed while actively dying. He was always tugging Juno out of the apartment on long walks, insisting that the fresh air was good for them. Juno was still of the mind that there was no real ‘fresh’ air in Hyperion City, but there wasn’t a lot he could do in the face of that beaming grin on Nureyev’s face.

One night, Juno woke up to a shrill sound just outside his window and a chill at his side. “Peter?” he called out, reaching over with one hand and finding no slim thief lying next to him. He sat up and rubbed his eye with one hand, trying to blink the sleep away. His window was open. A breeze whistled a jaunty tune through it, sending bits of ash and grit onto his floor.

Juno sighed and shook his head. It would take forever to get that dust out.

Still. At least it was a clue. Nureyev probably went out the window - the fire escape was not up to anyone’s code, practically rusting off the building, but that wouldn’t stop him. Wouldn’t stop Juno, either. He might not have the same lithe agility as his fiancé but he had stubborn strength to spare. Juno carefully climbed out of his window, balancing on the sill outside and planning the best way up the side.

It shrieked as he climbed, shrill and panicky. Juno hauled himself onto the rooftop with a grunt and sat down on the rough surface. “Peter?” he said, glancing around. The other man wasn’t visible at first glance, even with the light of both Phobos and Deimos in the sky tonight.

Juno saw his shadow first, clear enough that he almost expected it to start moving on its own. Then he saw Nureyev, a stark silhouette standing atop a vent stack. He didn’t seem to have noticed Juno just yet, staring up at the stars just beyond Mars’ atmosphere.

There were even less than usual tonight - the combination of the city’s regular light pollution and the electric shimmer of the shield stretching over them plus the presence of both of Mars’ moons would do that.

Neither of them said anything. Juno stood still for a moment, barely able to make out any details on Nureyev’s face. He couldn’t stay like that for long, though. It was barely a few seconds later when he was pulling himself up onto the vent next to Nureyev. Atop the vent it was warmer, explaining why Nureyev’s lack of a shirt didn’t seem to bother him. Juno sat at Nureyev’s feet and leaned back against his legs.

“You can see a lot more stars in Old Town,” he murmured. “One of the only good things about that hellhole.”

Nureyev just hummed a little, focused on something in the sky above. Juno waited, knowing the thief would talk when he was ready. Before he said anything, Nureyev sat down next to him. There wasn’t much space on the top of the vent, and they were both entangled with each other. It was nice, the solid warmth of Nureyev next to him, the sound of Nureyev’s breath just above the hiss of the vent.

“I’ve been to almost every star you can see from here,” Nureyev said. He still wasn’t looking at Juno, still focused on that galaxy surrounding them. “If it were clear, I wouldn’t be able to say that. Only the brightest stars and planets are visible now, and most of those have been colonized in some way.”

Juno let his head fall to the side, resting on Nureyev’s shoulder. One of Nureyev’s hands found his, and clasped it tight.

“That dim one in the distance - that’s Ceres. The largest object in the asteroid belt, and there is a gorgeous view of Jupiter every night. There’s only a few scientific institutes on it and a thin atmosphere, so there’s almost nothing to block the view.” He sounded - not quite wistful, not really nostalgic. Juno wasn’t sure what name to put that voice.

Quiet, maybe, if he had to pick a word. He’d never been good with describing things like that.

He squeezed Nureyev’s hand, and Nureyev must have taken that as leave to continue.

“That looks like one star, right there, but it’s actually two stars, orbited by a single planet. The Trio, they’re called unofficially, and the human settlers there have their own mythology about how the star and the planets were once humans themselves. No one would accept the way the three of them felt about each other, and they were killed for it.”

Juno couldn’t stop himself from breathing in sharply, giving away his worry.

Nureyev laughed, still too quiet. “Don’t worry, darling. They rose up and to become the stars themselves after death, to spend as long as they wanted in each other’s orbit.” He sighed, and that was definitely wistful. “The people there threw some truly outstanding parties in spring to celebrate the Trio’s love.”

They didn’t look at each other, both men gazing out at the stars.

When someone spoke again, it was Juno, eyes fastened on what he was pretty sure was Ceres. “Sasha, Mick, and I used to watch the stars all the time. We had to sneak out, but that was the only time no one was yelling at us, no one had to worry about being attacked or what we were going to eat tomorrow, or anything. We would all haul up whatever blankets we could to the roof of this abandoned old skyscraper and just lie there. Mick made up stories about the constellations, Sasha told him where he was wrong… And I just listened.”

“You fell asleep, didn’t you?”

Juno grinned. “You know me too well.” The grin fell, and he shook his head. “We had to stop when an unwarned sandstorm almost killed all three of us.”

There was something about this moment. Something about the stars, what few of them they could see. Something about the chill of the night air fighting with the heated vent and Nureyev’s presence at his side. Juno felt safe, even if a sniper in literally any building nearby could probably take both of them out in less than a minute in their current position.

He shouldn’t think about that. Might ruin the mood.

“Juno - “ Nureyev was speaking again, more hesitant this time but soldiering forward. “I would never give this - give you up, you know that, right? I love you, and Mars is beautiful in the autumn, and I wouldn’t trade waking up to you for all of the creds in the galaxy -”

“But you miss the way things used to be?” Juno guessed, and he didn’t look over but he could feel Nureyev nodding.

“It’s just different now,” Nureyev sighed. “And it’s wonderful, I promise, it’s just… different.”

“Hey, hey, Peter.” Juno did turn to face Nureyev now, and their proximity meant they were almost nose-to-nose. “It’s okay. Being married doesn’t mean you have to drop everything and build a white-picket fence and adopt a dog or any old tradition like that, and it doesn’t mean you have to stay on Mars.”

“But I want to stay with you, I-”

“You’ll always have me, Peter. Promise.” Juno leaned forward, drawing Nureyev into a slow kiss. “I’m not going anywhere.” He wanted to tell Nureyev he loved him, would break a million laws for him, would do anything except leave this city behind, but couldn’t quite figure out how to form the words. He thought Nureyev got it, though, felt it with Juno’s hand tucked into his own and Juno’s lips a slow heat against his.

At least he hoped he did.

They parted, no more than a few centimeters. Juno could smell Nureyev’s cologne, rich and heady in the air around them.

“Just promise to come back, okay?” he whispered. “And you aren’t allowed to die on some distant planet.”

“I promise,” Nureyev breathed, and pulled Juno into another kiss. “Junebug,” he murmured, in breaks between kisses. “Do you perhaps want to head back to your apartment, drink ourselves silly, and fall into bed like newlyweds on their honeymoon, with no regard for tomorrow? I promise I have an excellent hangover cure.”

Juno laughed, and pressed a kiss to Nureyev’s jaw. “Your ‘miracle hangover cure’ couldn’t possibly beat mine, but sure, Peter, let’s go for it.”

Tonight, the two of them would spend exactly as Nureyev had described. Spend hours just together, just soaking up the warmth of being dumb in love and drunk off the feeling and the alcohol, kissing slow and unhurried. Tomorrow would arrive sooner rather than later, but they were going to enjoy every moment they had now.

After all, they were going to get married tomorrow.

Nureyev would probably leave after that, and Juno had no idea where to or for how long. He’d always come back, though.

That was all that mattered.