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“How was Antarctica?”
John stopped at the familiar rumble and hitched his duffle bag higher on his shoulder before turning to greet the speaker.
“Cold,” he answered with as little inflection as possible, turning to look at Hellboy, who leaned against a shadowed alcove, an unlit cigar clenched in his teeth.
“So. Who won’t let you smoke in the building? Liz or Manning?”
Red rolled his eyes and groaned. “Both. They ganged up on me.”
John finally let out the smile that had been threatening since he walked in the door of the Bureau’s HQ. It felt good to be home after months away.
A large red hand clapped him on the shoulder, nearly knocking him off of his feet. He’d have to get use to bracing himself for friendly affection again.
“Lots of things have changed since you’ve been gone. It’s good to have you back, Myers.”
“It’s good to be back. It might take me another week to warm up, though.” John arched an eyebrow and flashed an evil grin at Hellboy. “Liz still think you had me sent to the bottom of the world out of jealousy?”
Hellboy growled, but there was no menace to it. “You have no idea how much I’ve suffered for that. Now that you’re back, you will tell her it was your old boss who requested you for a top secret assignment.”
“I suppose you want me to tell her I didn’t actually go to Antarctica, either, huh?”
“That might help, too.”
They passed one of the glass walled conference rooms and John waved at Abe. He had a variety of scrolls and books spread out over the table and was examining them with an unfamiliar blond. When Abe paused to wave back, she looked up with a shy smile and John realized she wasn’t quite human.
“Who’s Abe’s new friend?”
“That’s Nuala. She’s an elf. Or a fairy princess. Or something like that.” Hellboy answered with a shrug. “She’s part of the changes I told you about. Let’s ditch your stuff and get a beer. I’ll tell you all about our last case. It’s a doozy.”
John thought about the helicopter, two planes and the long car ride it had taken him to get back to the BPRD. Not to mention the stop off at the FBI office to debrief first. He was physically exhausted. But being back among the people he considered family had energized him in ways he hadn’t felt in months. Sleep could wait a few more hours while he caught up with his friends.
“Yeah. Okay…” Before he finished the sentence, Hellboy had grabbed the duffle from him and tossed it to a passing agent.
“Hey, Smith, be a friend and take this to Meyer’s room for me, huh?”
The older agent sputtered but Red’s friendly pat on the back propelled him halfway down the hall before he could protest.
“Thanks, man. I owe you one.”
John couldn’t help the grin as he followed in Hellboy’s wake. Things might have changed while he’d been gone, but, it seemed, the important things had stayed the same.
As soon as they cleared the resident cats off a couple of seats and grabbed a some beers, Hellboy started talking.
“It all started after someone unleashed a boxful of tooth fairies in an auction house. Killed and ate everyone inside, starting with the teeth. Nasty little buggers. Only thing missing in the whole building, though, was a piece of an old crown.”
He took a long swallow of his beer and settled back into his chair.
“While we were trying to figure out who and why on the tooth fairy thing, a goblin showed up in the court of King Balor, the elf king,” he added when John quirked an eyebrow. “The goblin tried to kill the King and Nuala in order take the other two pieces of the crown.”
“The same crown?”
“Yeah, I sort of remember Broom telling me the story. Way back, there was a war between humans and elves. The elves won by using a massive golden mechanical army controlled by the crown. After the war was over, the crown got broken up, the elves and humans went their separate ways and the army got mothballed and forgotten. At least until this goblin, some descendent of the army’s original creator decided they’re rightfully his and would be useful taking over both parts of the world, ours and the one inhabited by the mythical creatures.”
“Anyway, the goblin showed up, but Nuala’s twin brother, Nuada kicked his ass. The goblin managed to escape, though. Nuala and Nuada started tracking him at the same time we were tracking the thief. Eventually, we ran into each other. Once we got past the pissing contest and the fact that Nuada really doesn’t like humans, we figured out if we worked together, it’d be better all the way around. Eventually, we found the goblin, kicked his ass permanently and destroyed the crown so we wouldn’t have to go through that again.”
“Awww. I miss all the fun. So why’s Nuala still here?”
“She’s part of all those changes. Plus, she and Abe are infatuated with each other. So, you know, you better stay away from her or it’s back to Antarctica with you.”
Red leaned back and smirked at him.
“First, you didn’t send me to Antarctica. Second, I never actually went to Antarctica. Third, she’s not my type.” Faint heat crawled up his cheeks and he lifted the bottle to his lips to hide the blush. Then he asked, “What kind of changes?”
"The elf king decided the whole cluster-fuck was a sign it was time for humans and the Bethmoora to start playing nice together again. We have about a dozen Elven warriors, mystics and magicians working for the BPRD, now. Not to mention the boxes full of scrolls and books. And all the researchers and scientists who’ve descended on us for their chance at the mumbo jumbo stuff. Abe’s in heaven with all the research and reading.”
Hellboy got up to grab another beer and cocked his head in a silent offer to bring one for John. Another would probably knock him right out, as exhausted as he was. He nodded anyway. He’d missed quiet nights like this.
“It’s kind of creepy,” Hellboy said when he sat back down. “Abe seems to be nearly as infatuated with the stacks of papers as he is with the girl.”
John nearly choked on his beer laughing so hard. God he’d really missed his friends.
*
Despite a couple of months away, John could still walk the halls from Hellboy’s room to his own with his eyes closed. After a couple of hours and a couple of beers with Red, that’s pretty much what he was doing.
It had been the longest day of his life and he just really needed some sleep, so he didn’t even bother to turn on the lights in his room when he got there. Not even when he stumbled into the bed, closer to the door than his sleep-deprived brain remembered it being.
“Who are you?”
The voice came out of the darkest part of his room, low, clipped and menacing. More demand than question.
John’s hands froze in the act of unbuttoning his shirt. Then one moved toward his holstered service weapon, the other reached for the bedside lamp.
“Agent John Meyer. Now who the hell are you and what are you doing in my room?”
The sudden flash of the lamp coming on blinded him for a second and he could only hope it had the same effect on the intruder.
The first thing he noted, when his vision cleared, was the blond. Tall, lithe, gorgeous and obviously Nuala’s brother.
The second thing he noticed was the spear. Sharp and wicked looking, held in a competent, steady hand inches from John's throat.
The third, completely irrelevant, thing he noticed was his room had doubled in furniture since he’d last been there. Two beds. Two desks. Two wardrobes. What had once been a comfortable single was now a cramped double.
“John Myers.”
His name, said with a narrow eyed assessment, made him want to turn the light back off.
An expression that could have passed as either a smile or a grimace flashed over the pale face. The spear shrank down and slid into the holster over the elf’s shoulder.
“John Myers,” he repeated, the sound of reproof underlying the flat tone. “The man Hellboy sent to Antarctica for sleeping with his mate?”
“Oh, for the love of…” John dropped his hand away from his weapon and let it ball up on his hip. He was going to regret that little piece of national security deception for a long time.
“He did not send me to Antarctica. And I did not sleep with Liz.” His scowl deepened when Nuada’s expression didn’t so much as flicker. He growled and raised his voice a decibel or two. “Liz is not even my type.”
“Hey, now, that’s not a very nice thing to say.” John spun around to find Liz slouching in the doorway, Hellboy hovering behind her. “Especially when you didn’t even come find me to let me know you were back.”
“Liz!” He stepped forward and she was instantly in his arms, as they gripped each other in a tight hug. The bond they shared may not be the type of relationship the gossips said, but it was strong and fierce in its own, platonic way. And he’d missed her.
“Sorry. I was going to find you first thing in the morning. I swear.”
“I know. Red said you were exhausted. But he also forgot to tell you about the new arrangements. Pretty much everyone’s had to double up with the influx of elves and researchers, so you’re sharing a room with Nuada.”
“I noticed.”
“Yeah, well, also…”
Liz looked at Hellboy with sharp eyes and he cleared his throat before speaking quietly to some point just to the left of John.
“Ah, what with Liz covering my back now, well, uh, he’s also… yournewpartner.”
It took too long for John to separate the words in his energy depleted state. Then he his gaze shifted around to stare at Nuada. The elf was now reclining on the bed, propped up precisely on the pillows and reading a copy of the Selected Poems of W.B. Yeats. His expression and position said he was engrossed and thoroughly ignoring the little group in the doorway. John’s sixth sense, however, told him the Elven prince was listening to every word.
He turned back, leaned in and dropped his voice as soft as he could and still be heard. “I thought you said he hates humans.”
Liz grimaced and furrowed her brow in sympathy. “He does.”
Hellboy shrugged. “I wasn’t that fond of you when you first showed up, either. I’m sure you’ll grow on him, too.”
They spent another half hour catching up and Nuada never moved, other than to change the page. Even after the others were gone, the only word he spoke was a polite response when John said goodnight and turned out the lamp.
*
For the first couple of weeks, that’s how their partnership continued. Nuada only speaking to him when necessary for whatever assignment they were on. The rest of the time, he was cool, meticulous and aloof. John soon gave up all effort to get to know him.
Then, about three weeks after John’s return, a simple assignment went bad and Nuada ended up with a deep cut on his forearm. He’d been agitated and upset by the small wound and seemed irritated by the delays of standard scene clean up.
The second they got back to HQ, the prince had rushed straight to the infirmary.
Curious, John had followed him and watched from the door as Nuad rushed to Nuala’s side. It was only when John noticed the bandage, identical to her brother’s, that he remembered the twin’s unique bond. Abe had explained it to him when he first partnered with Nuada, telling him the efforts they’d been making to mitigate the effect were hopeful, but, so far, unsuccessful. The unspoken plea for John to protect Nuada as best he could was silent subtext to the whole conversation.
He’d watched the careful, gently way Nuada held her hand and spoke soft soothing words to her. John was even more surprised by the compassionate way he reassured the hovering Abe.
John began to realize there was much more to Nuada than the Ice Prince façade he preferred to show the world.
When John saw, a few days later, that Nuada had started re-reading the Yeats’s for the third time, he dug through his stuff and pulled out two of his old favorites.
He’d barely looked at Nuada when he handed him the copies of Blake and Whitman, just softly murmured, “Thought you might like these.”
He’d been a little surprised when Nuada had answered with a soft tilting of lips that passed for a smile on him and a quiet “Thank you.”
Nor long after that, an Elven scroll he’d been trying to get his hands on appeared on John’s desk without a word. He knew it wasn’t the one from the archive. Dr. Lim had dibs on it for the foreseeable future. This one, though, had a small sigil marked in the wood that John had learned to identify as Nuada’s personal seal.
That he’d returned the favor of sharing something from his personal library wasn’t a surprise. Nuada was nothing if not honorable and keenly aware of proper decorum.
No. The surprise was that he’d paid enough attention to John to be aware he was interested in this particular bit of Elven folklore. The warm rush it gave John to know his partner wasn’t ignoring him as completely as he believed, was yet another thing he pushed down and buried under layers of duty and repression.
It had begun a strange sort of cultural exchange between them. Nuada shared bits of history from the Elven perspective, told John traditional stories from a variety of mythical races and could even, occasionally, be coaxed into playing a haunting melody or two on an odd instrument that sort of reminded him of a lyre.
In return, John introduced him to a variety of human entertainments. Music, literature, even television and movies. For some reason, the Elven prince seemed oddly drawn to science fiction. Currently, they were in the middle of attempting to watch every episode of every Star Trek franchise.
John was pretty sure Nuada secretly identified with the Vulcans.
After weeks as partners, John liked to think they had started to become friends as well. Nuada still only spoke to him rarely, but now instead of cold, distant and awkward, the silences between them were sort of comfortable and companionable.
The slippery sound of slime covered scales moving across concrete brought John back to the moment at hand. Crouched down behind a pile of boxes in a warehouse, waiting for the River Wyrm to show itself was not the best time to let one's thoughts wander.
On the other hand, it was better than watching his lithe, graceful partner stalking through the darkness and dwelling on how hot the elf looked in full warrior mode. If John gave away even the slightest hint that he had those kinds of thoughts about Nuada, he’d probably end up with three feet of spear through him before he could even apologize.
Nuada was finally in position, about 50 feet across the aisle from John’s own hiding spot. Now they just had to wait for the monster to walk right into their trap, so they could spring it.
Except, as usual, the Wyrm didn’t cooperate. It stopped abruptly in the aisle, right between them, sniffing the air and shifting its head from side to side. Though John was sure it couldn’t see him, glowing orange eyes seemed to look right into him. Then the huge head swung around to seek out his partner.
Of course, the monster decided Nuada was the bigger threat. He was. The strength and speed the elf displayed were rivaled only by Hellboy. And the spear could slay nearly anything, even the supernaturally hard-to-kill.
When the monster started to shift his weight to head for the elf, however, John knew he couldn’t let that happen. While Nuada could survive anything short of a death-blow, something in him died a little every time Nuala suffered for his bravery.
For days after, there would be nothing but dirges played on his lyre and the few words he occasionally spoke dribbled off into depressed silence. If John could spare him the guilt and pain of that burden, even just once, he had to try.
Without really thinking it through, he popped out of his hiding space, making as much noise as possible.
“Hey, you. Ugly, wet and smelly!”
The large head, filled with rows of sharp teeth, swung back toward him.
“Yeah, you. Come—”
A long, barbed, shockingly fast tail swung around and struck him across the midsection. He went flying but one barb sank into the skin of his lower abdomen. A split-second later, he felt it jerk and tear on its way back out.
He landed with a thud, the world going black for a second. Then the throbbing pain of ripped skin became a burning inferno that dragged him back to consciousness as the acidic slime seeped into the wound.
The creature pounced, tail whipping wildly around them and destroying boxes and metal shelving with every powerful slash. John couldn’t even find the strength to flinch as those horrifying teeth got closer and closer to his throat. In the next heartbeat, a flash of metal emerged from the Wyrm’s chest and those glowing eyes went dark.
The weight of the monster was wrenched off of him and the sound of a spear hitting the ground rang in his ear. Odd, he thought, the world going a little fuzzy around the edges again, Nuada always carefully cleaned his spear and put it away. He wouldn’t just drop it like that. Hope he’s okay.
“John. John. You must stay with me. Where are you hurt?”
He called me John. Odd. Why would he do that?
“Of course I called you John. It is your name.” Huh, must have said it out loud, though he could have sworn he’d only thought it. He could feel his shirt ripping away but tried very hard not to think about the sensations coming from that part of his body. He’d rather float a little and listen to Nuada’s voice.
“John. You must stay with me. Don’t drift. I will keep talking but you must stay.”
John thought he nodded in agreement but it was so hard to tell.
“You are bleeding badly. I must put pressure on the wound.”
The warning came too late. The second Nuada touched the cut, the inferno became a volcano, bubbling, liquid pain pouring through him and over him. The scream that tore from his throat left him raw, hoarse and panting.
“Slime,” he managed to whisper. “Acid. Hurts.”
“Sorry. Sorry, John. I will fix it. I promise.” The words were whispered close to his ear. Then Nuada moved away slightly and shouted.
“Abe! I need the neutralizing potion and a pressure bandage. Now!”
“I’m coming, I’m coming. The fight left some obstacles in our path. It will take a minute to get through.” His voice sounded far away. John let his eyes drift close, stopped fighting so hard to keep his breath steady.
“John. John! Open your eyes. Tell me why you did this. I could easily have dispatched this creature.”
John let his eyes slit slightly open and felt bad about causing the pained frown on Nuada’s pretty face. Not that he would ever call him pretty where he could hear.
“I wanted to save you from hurting Nuala, again, if I could.”
The frown deepened into a scowl and Nuada shifted backwards, taken his comforting warmth with him. “You did this out of concern for my sister?”
John reached out, wincing when he stretched to grip Nuada’s wrist. He would have rolled his eyes, but didn’t have the energy left. Instead he gave the standard phrase, which had become a running punch line since his first night back at the BPRD.
“She’s not my type.”
Nuada answered his weak grin with a lessening of the severe expression and John let his thumb drift lightly over the skin of the elf’s wrist. He knew it was a mistake, one he’d regret it later, but for now, the contact soothed him the same way Nuada’s voice did.
“I wanted to protect her, for Abe. And for you.”
“For me? I am the one putting her in danger.”
“That’s why I took this one, for you. I see how much it hurts you, every time she hurts because you do your duty. It hurts you much deeper than the original wound. I wanted to spare you that, this time, if I could.”
Nuada was silent, just blinking down at him with a face John found completely unreadable. Suddenly, the pain in his side took second place to the paralyzing fear that he’d said too much, given away too much.
He’d been hiding his growing feelings for his partner for weeks. Burying them so deep, he didn’t even acknowledge their existence, let alone give anyone else a chance to catch a glimpse of them.
How could he explain? He knew those feelings couldn’t go anywhere. He would never expect… never act… never ask for the impossible. He just wanted to keep the friendship, the partnership, the growing sense of comradery…
Panic ballooned up inside of him, cutting off his air, making it impossible to swallow.
“John, you must breathe.” John wanted to listen, but the words weren’t Nuada’s cool measured tone. They were Abe’s fast paced patter. “I’m going to pour the neutralizer on the wound. It will feel like it is getting worse for a moment, but I promise, it will get better.”
John wanted to laugh, but couldn’t. Nothing would ever be better again. He’d just fucked it all up, without meaning to. He’d given everything away with a few words and a touch when he’d been trying so hard to hide everything, he’d barely even admitted it to himself. He’d be lucky if he didn’t end up in Antarctica for real this time.
Then cool liquid splashed over the searing pain of his belly. The two sensations met with an explosive clash over his flesh. A thousand red-hot needles marched over his skin, burrowed into his muscles, slid into his blood and slipped through his veins.
John opened his mouth to scream but never heard if he made a sound as blessed darkness took him under before the pain ripped him apart.
*
“It is alright, Abe. I have him. Get my spear, please.”
John tried to open his eyes, but he had no reserves left, not even for so simple a movement.
Strong arms cradled him gently against a firm chest. A scent he knew well from weeks of living with Nuada filled his nose. He snuggled closer, trying to bury his head into the curve of the shoulder so tantalizingly close. He knew it was a mistake, but couldn’t quite remember all the reasons why.
A whimper escaped his lips as the move pulled at the wound, reminding him of one reason. Something told him that wasn’t the most important one, though.
“It is alright John. I have you. We are going to take good care of you.” Nuada’s familiar voice, but whispered in the tone he usually reserved for Nuala.
A dream then, John decided. A pleasant one to ward off the pain. He let it do its job and drifted back into the blessing of unconsciousness.
*
By the following afternoon, the good drugs had worn off and John was starting to get odd looks from the infirmary staff. Normally he was chomping at the bit to go recover in his own room, even when they were fighting him and insisting he needed observation.
This time, he’d only had a few a stitches. Once the major painkillers had worn off and they’d made sure there was no unexpected reaction from the slime or the neutralizer, he was free to be on his way.
Except, going back to his room meant facing Nuada. Not something he was looking forward to.
Best case scenario, Nuada hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary in John. But John knew, now. In a way he hadn’t let himself acknowledge, before. He’d be constantly second guessing himself. Wondering if his words, his actions or his expressions were giving him away.
Eventually, Nuada was going to notice. That paranoia and his attempts to protect his secret would be the very thing that gave him way.
Worse case scenario, Nuada had already moved out of their room and had requested a new partner. Absolute worst case scenario would be either Nuada returning to the Bethmoora court or insisting John be reassigned.
With a sigh of resignation, John tugged on the t-shirt the nurse had given him to replace the one destroyed in the fight. It was time to face the music.
When he entered his room, Nuada stood up abruptly from where he lay. On John’s bed. Before he could ask why, or if it meant John’s room had already been reassigned, the elf was in his space.
“You are back.”
“Uh, yeah. They were done with me, so I came back to my room. It is, um, still my room, right?”
Nuada frowned in confusion. “Of course. Abe said you were fine. That you would be fine. But I… May I see?”
Before he could even formulate an answer, the prince tugged the loose shirt up, holding it out of the way with long fingers wrapped around John’s side. Nuada was standing so close he could feel the elf’s breath as he looked down at the row of neat stitches marching across his lower abdomen.
The soft, warm whoosh of air across his skin made John pray his body wouldn’t react the way it really, really wanted to. Nuada reached out with his free hand and John sucked in his breath, whether in anticipation or fear of discovery, he had no idea. Both warred in his brain, but want and need started to win the battle over self-preservation.
Nuada misinterpreted the reaction though and froze with his hand hovering centimeters above John’s skin. “May I?”
John was pretty sure he couldn’t speak, even if his life depended on it at that moment, so he simply nodded his head.
The touch was a butterfly-light caress. Just a breath of movement circling slowly, carefully around the line of stitches. Cautious movements that didn’t allow a second of pressure that could cause any discomfort.
“Does it hurt?” Nuada asked, attention completely focused on John’s midsection now.
“Not—not really. A little sore, but nothing some aspirin can’t handle. I’ve had worse.”
“Not because of me.”
Fuck. There was no inflection in his voice at all. Just the matter of fact statement. John had no idea where this conversation was going, but he hoped he could derail it before it took him someplace he did not want to go.
“It wasn’t because of you. I made the choice.”
Nuada looked up from John’s wound finally. For the first time since he’d walked into the room, the elf’s eyes were completely focused on his.
For a second, John shifted his gaze away, terrified of what he’d find in that look. But he couldn’t not know.
To his surprise there was no recrimination, no anger, not even regret. There was just… curiosity. And, it might have been John’s wishful imagination, but it looked like there might have been a curl of heat behind it, too.
“What, exactly, is your type, John?”
The words shocked him, but not nearly as much as the low, husky timbre. He’d never heard anything but a cool and deliberate tone come out of those dark lips before.
His stomach twisted, his body tightened and edged infinitesimally closer. He knew he could be reading this whole situation completely wrong.
It didn’t matter. If there was a chance, a fraction of a chance, he’d risk it. Whatever the consequences, he would take them, just to know for sure.
“You.” It came out in a raw, hoarse whisper, filled with every single emotion running through John at that moment. “You’re my type.”
Nuada smiled at him then. A true, warm, blinding smile like John had never seen on the elf before.
“Good.”
The hand at John’s waist cupped carefully over the wound, fingertips pressing warmly all around it but nothing touch the stitches themselves. Nuada’s other hand migrated up to cup the back of John’s neck, pulling him forward until their lips met.
At first, it was no more than a gentle brushing of skin against skin. Then Nuada’s tongue darted out, sweeping along his bottom lip, inviting and insistent. Willingly, John opened for it. Allowed him in and welcomed him.
His arms wrapped tight around the elf and pulled him close until their bodies were pressed against each other at every available spot.
John lost himself in the slow exploration. Tasted every inch of Nuada. Swallowed the soft moans and hitches. Allowed himself to be tasted and savored as well, until they reluctantly had to break for air.
Nuada rested his forehead against John’s, a small crease of worried frown marring his features. John tensed and held his breath, afraid it was all over before it could really begin.
“I am not an easy being to live with,” Nuada said, a hint of reluctance in the slow cadence of his voice. “I do not take lovers lightly. And I do not share.”
John exhaled with a smile that threatened to stretch much too far.
“You’re a pain in the ass to live with, but I’ve been doing alright so far.” He wrapped his arms a little tighter around Nuada. “And I don’t share either.”
“Good,” Nuada repeated before nipping at John’s lower lip and sending shivers down his spine. Then he tipped them over onto the bed, careful to take the brunt of the impact to protect John’s wound.
“First thing in the morning,” the elf added. “We tell Manning we need a king size bed and get rid of these tiny torture devices.”
John groaned a little at the thought of that particular conversation and decided to let the elf prince handle it. Then Nuada ran a hand down his side, along his hip and over his thigh and all coherent thought ceased for the rest of the afternoon.