He found Nasir sitting next to the fire, cup in hand as he made attempt to speak with one of Agron's kin. The words were halting, stuttered in painfully broken phrases, but intent was there. The very sight of it lifted Agron's spirits, though heart still weighed heavy with the suspicion and distrust so recently heaped upon it by Spartacus.
“Apologies for my absence,” Agron said, interrupting Nasir in the midst of an attempt to describe how he found himself among the rebels. He could not help but notice how very much was left out of the telling, beyond even the need for simplicity, and Agron found himself glad of it. His desire to revisit each hurt and indignity upon Nasir's former dominus would not be quick to leave him.
“An absence most keenly felt,” Nasir commented, looking up at Agron with the small smile that was his custom these days. There was an almost shyness to it, making him look a boy when Agron knew well the man he was.
“Missed my tongue, then, did you?” Agron asked with a grin.
It felt wrong to mask true thoughts, but Agron would not taint what should rightly be a time of joy. His kin surrounded him – and closer still was Nasir. Nasir, who had no cause to doubt him or his sincerity, who was even now rearranging himself so that Agron might pillow weary head on surprisingly-muscled thigh for a former house-slave.
“Tongue? Among other things,” Nasir teased. His hand began stroking Agron's hair, the motion soothing, draining the tension from Agron's body. It was an impossibility to hold to dark feelings when those hands were upon him.
“Give voice to other traits missed and see them never from your side,” Agron declared.
Across the fire, Seddulus made a derisive sound, causing Saxa to inquire about it, not wanting to miss an opportunity to be involved.
“Jealousy eats at him,” Agron said in the language of his people before Seddulus could no doubt make jest at his and Nasir's expense. “Because he sleeps alone this night and I do not.”
A raucous laughter went up among those huddled around the fire at Agron's words, his kin alternately offering sympathy to Seddulus' plight and calling into question whether it wouldn't be better to sleep alone than with one so small of stature. They had all greeted Nasir warmly, like a brother, so Agron paid their barbs little attention. Besides, Nasir was his own man, capable of fighting his own battles, should it come to that.
More importantly, Nasir's nails were lightly scratching at his scalp, and Agron was far more inclined to close his eyes and commit the feeling to memory, to warm him on future cold nights far from his Syrian's side.
“I yet wait for your list,” he murmured several minutes later, eyes still closed in order to better focus on the rhythmic carding of Nasir's fingers through the short strands of Agron's hair.
Though it was an unfamiliar feeling, Agron found he enjoyed the incredible laziness that held him firmly in its grip. Nothing short of an attack by the Romans was likely to see him sufficiently motivated to abandon the comfort Nasir provided. Even opening eyes seemed like a great feat worthy of praise, though there should never be doubt that Nasir's face was a favoured sight to lay eyes upon.
“Arrogant of you, gladiator, to assume there would be enough for a list at all,” Nasir teased, tugging on a strand of hair.
Agron was smart enough to recognize the command for what it was, and with great effort obediently forced eyes open to take in the way his man's eyes danced with mirth and his lips attempted to conceal a smile. The sight was enough to make heart pound and desire rise.
Amusement was replaced with heat in Nasir's gaze, telling Agron he was not alone in finding the sight before him pleasing to the eye. His fingertips skimmed over Nasir's wrist, a clear signal of his own – one recognized and complied with instantly. Nasir's hand turned so their fingers could tangle, gripping tightly enough for Agron to feel newly-formed calluses on hands previously smooth and unused to acts of killing and rebellion.
“It is not arrogance, merely fact,” Agron insisted, boastful words tempered by breathless voice.
“So you say,” Nasir laughed. “Though, I would not have you change, so perhaps you should be indulged on occasion.”
“I should be indulged always,” Agron corrected. “For I would use opportunity to return favour.”
“A tempting offer, for certain,” Nasir commented. “But is it one that would live up to its promise?”
“Have you been left wanting?” Agron asked, one eyebrow raised at the challenge in his Syrian's laughing eyes. “You yet sleep beside me.”
“Sleep, yes,” Nasir told him. “Much like a boy untouched, ever-waiting for lover's hands upon him.”
Oh, how those bold words conspired to rob Agron of coherent thought. Nasir was moving down to meet him before Agron could even think to pull him closer, wanting nothing more than to press their lips together in heated kiss. They had barely touched when a soft cry escaped Nasir, pulled free by the awkward position that put pressure on still-healing wound. All lethargy left Agron in a moment, seeing him upright with one hand pressed protectively over the bandage wrapped around the Syrian's ribs.
“I am well,” Nasir insisted, his tone making it clear that he did not need to be coddled as one would a wounded pet.
Agron would allow him his pride and self-reliance while still satisfying himself of his man's health.
“I have no thoughts to the contrary,” he said. “But would much rather continue in a place that offered more comfortable position. Come, our bed awaits.”
Their exit was viewed by all, commented on lewdly and with great relish, but Agron paid it no mind. Nothing else mattered except the hand clasped tightly within his own and the small, lover's smile that tugged at Nasir's lips. It may yet be some time until injury allowed them all they still waited for, but Agron was certain that it would be beyond words once the moment was finally upon them.
Until then, he would content himself with current blessings and not press beyond advantage.