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maybe i was never lost at all

Summary:

"Nureyev, how the hell did you let it get this bad?"

aka Juno and Peter clean Peter's swamp of a room and maybe learn a little bit more about why it's like that along the way

Notes:

Happy Valentine's Day!!!

I had so much fun writing this, and figuring out how to actually turn a bullet point list into words that go together well. World's largest shoutout to both TPP RP servers for either helping out with inspiration or being very loud cheerleaders, and to my best friend for being my lovely beta <3

(title from richard walter's already home)

Work Text:

“Nureyev, how the hell did you let it get this bad?” Juno asks as he stands in the door, staring at the mess in front of him. Behind him, Nureyev shifts his weight from side to side awkwardly.

“I suppose between staying in your room and everything going on with the Curemother, I never particularly noticed?” he says. His face is slightly flushed at the admission that he’d been distracted enough to let his room become as much of a wreck as it has. If he were being fully honest with Juno - and himself - he’d admit that this is the first time in approximately 20 years that he isn’t living out of a suitcase, so being able to spread out is a bit of a novelty he’s allowing himself to indulge in. Juno sighs, and it shakes him out of his thoughts.

“Alright, it looks like most of this is clothes, so that’s pretty easily dealt with,” Juno says. “Just gotta figure out what you like best and set that aside, and everything else can be organized by what alias it’s used for.” He glances up at Nureyev. “If you’d like, we can move the day to day stuff to my room. I don’t use most of the space in my closet, and you’re in there most nights anyways.”

At this reminder, Nureyev's heart skips a beat, and he takes a moment to collect himself. “I… yes, that makes sense, I suppose,” he replies. He glances around at the room forlornly. “I’m not sure how you expect me to choose my favorites, though. I’m not exactly in the habit of acquiring clothing I don’t actually like.”

Juno raises an eyebrow at him, and picks up a random coat from the floor. “Babe, when was the last time you wore this?” Nureyev eyes the coat. It’s a big fuzzy thing, patterned like a Terran creature called a leopard. “I can’t get you to wear long sleeves normally, why do you still have this?”

“Yes, fair enough, dear,” Nureyev sighs. He tries to come up with some justification, but finds that he really has none, and instead takes the coat from Juno to put it up in the closet. “I’m not sure of where is best to start, so I suppose we just continue like this?” he asks, turning back to Juno.

With a shrug, Juno bends down to pick up another article of clothing from the floor; this one a pair of gold metallic leggings. “It’s as good of a plan as any,” he answers. “Thoughts on these?”

Nureyev hums a bit. “I suppose I could live without those,” he says. “I don’t think I’ve worn those since my last job on Europa. Involved a donut shop, the regional chancellor, and several million creds in copyright infringement,” he informs Juno with a small laugh. “But that’s neither here nor there.” He looks around for a good spot to put the leggings, and, seeing none, steps across to the bed and unceremoniously dumps the piles from it onto the floor. With an apologetic glance back at Juno, he says “It was all going to end up there anyways,” and holds his hand out for the leggings. Juno passes them over, and Nureyev folds them up carefully, setting them on the bed and turning back to Juno expectantly.

Juno obligingly picks up another item and holds it up. This time, it’s a blue cashmere cardigan, and Nureyev’s eyes light up. “Oh, I’d forgotten about that!” he coos. He takes it from Juno’s hands and runs it through his own, admiring the soft fabric. “I’m really not sure why I haven’t been wearing this one,” he says. “Definitely keep it in your room, and you might even be able to stop hounding me to wear long sleeves, if they’re all as soft as this.”

Juno laughs. “Oh, so that was the secret? Just keep it soft? Good to know.” He scans the floor a bit, seemingly looking for something specific, then picks up a wide scarf, blue with a pattern of white elephants scattered across it. “Any chance I could convince you to wear a scarf, too?” he asks.

Nureyev folds the cardigan up and sets it in a new pile away from the leggings on the bed, and plucks the scarf from Juno, holding it up to examine. “Mm, perhaps. I think this is a bit light to be actually practical, but it is nice.” He gives Juno a slightly questioning look. “Keep it in your room for now, and if in a bit it hasn’t been worn, bring it back?”

“Sounds like a plan, babe,” Juno replies easily. While Nureyev adds the scarf to the to-be-moved pile, Juno leans over and plucks a black sundress off the floor. “How come I’ve never seen you wear this?” he asks curiously. Nureyev shrugs lightly.

“Ah, I suppose I just never had a good reason,” he says. “It’s not really everyday wear, is it?”

“I don’t see why not. I mean, I certainly wouldn’t be upset if you wore it around the ship. I think it’s cute.”

Nureyev’s face goes soft. “I… suppose you have a point, detective. Consider it filed for… well, for future consideration,” he says with a small laugh, taking the dress and adding it to the pile. Juno looks at him for a moment, his expression fond, and steps across the (now slightly smaller) pile of clothes at his feet to wrap his arms around Nureyev. Just as Nureyev thinks Juno’s going to say something soft and sweet, he feels the lady begin to shake around him, and he looks down in confusion. “Juno? Is everything alright?”

Juno pulls back from the hug, and Nureyev can see a tear running down his cheek. He’s about to ask again when Juno finally manages an actual sound, and Nureyev realizes he’s been laughing this whole time. “‘Reyev… what the hell is that hat?” he asks, pointing across the room before dropping onto the bed in another fit of laughter.

Nureyev turns around indignantly. “Detective, I’m sure it’s not that - oh. Yes. That.” The hat in question is lying askew on the back of a chair, and more resembles an unmoving sewer-dwelling creature than a hat. It’s made of a mass of white-blond hair with a black brim sticking out from the front, complete with a flame pattern across it. Nureyev feels his face heat up in embarrassment. “That was… a necessity for a job. I was impersonating an old Earth hero named Man Figaro, who was said to have known the way to the lost city of Tastyville. I promise, the hat was a necessary evil; Figaro is never depicted without it.”

Juno shakes his head with a fond smile. “If you insist. It’s not coming anywhere near my room, though,” he says, and Nureyev flushes again.

“Oh, certainly not.” He quickly bends to pick up another article of clothing from the floor, eager to move the conversation on. This time it’s a dark wine-colored blouse tied in the front with a bow, and Nureyev raises an eyebrow, thinking. “Hm. I think this one could stand to be brought back into rotation, don’t you, love?” Juno grins in response.

“Absolutely, babe, that’d look great,” he says, and Nureyev beams, leaning in to brush his lips against Juno’s for a soft kiss. He adds it to the pile, then turns back to Juno, who’s holding up a pair of gym shorts with one eyebrow raised. “Nureyev, mind telling me where you got these?” he asks, and Nureyev frowns.

“I can’t quite say I remember, why do you ask?” Nureyev responds, and Juno gives him a look.

“I ask because they look awfully similar to a pair I lost about a month ago, and they don’t quite seem your size,” Juno says, crossing his arms, and Nureyev tries for an apologetic smile.

“That...may explain it, then. Apologies, dear, if you’d like them back, they’re all yours,” he says quickly.

“They were mine to begin with, but whatever you say, Nureyev,” Juno says under his breath with a small laugh, and folds them up to hand over, who takes them and adds them to the “to move” pile on the bed.

“I think this is enough for a trip, don’t you?” Nureyev asks, gathering the clothes up into his arms, and Juno nods.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” he says, making his way towards the door with more ease now that the floor is more visible, and he holds it open for Nureyev to make his way through. As they walk back through the hallways towards Juno’s room, Nureyev shifts the clothes over to one arm and takes hold of Juno’s hand with a squeeze. Juno looks up at him, eye crinkled with amusement. “It’s like a minute away, couldn’t stand to not be touching me for that long?”

“Why would I when I don’t have to?” Nureyev answers smoothly, and gives Juno a wink. Juno just shakes his head with a fond smile and squeezes back. A moment later, they reach Juno’s room and begin to put the clothes away. As they finish up, Nureyev turns to Juno, a soft, genuine smile on his face. “Thank you, love,” he says, crossing the room to cup Juno’s face in his hands, and Juno smiles back.

“What for, for being the brains in this relationship for once?” he jokes, leaning up for a kiss, which Nureyev obligingly returns with a chuckle.

“For being so thoughtful. It’s a simple solution to a simple problem, but heavens know I wouldn’t have thought of it. I barely realized it was a problem to begin with,” he says, looking slightly bashful, and Juno rolls his eye fondly.

“It just seemed like the next logical step, babe.” He steps back, taking Nureyev’s hand in his again, and begins to head for the door. “C’mon, there’s still more in there.” Nureyev follows alongside him, not saying anything but simply appreciating his company, and they return to Nureyev’s room. When they do, Nureyev steps forward to hold the door open. “Ladies first,” he says with a grin, and Juno smacks him on the arm as he goes by.

“Dork.” He glances around at the room, then back at Nureyev, still by the door, who seems to have taken a renewed interest in the scene. “Ready to get going?” he asks, and Nureyev glances at the now-empty bed.

“You know, detective, that bed hasn’t been properly clear in ages. Seems like an awful shame to keep piling more clothes onto it again.”

Juno huffs out a laugh. “What are you suggesting, Nureyev? Put this off until tomorrow? Isn’t that what you’ve been doing this whole time?”

Nureyev scoffs. “Certainly not. I was simply waiting for the right idea to fit it all together, which you oh so helpfully provided, dear. As for right now, I’m simply suggesting a break. We wouldn’t want to strain ourselves, would we?” he says, stepping over the small piles on the floor to sit on the bed, leaning back against the wall, and Juno sighs, although it’s clearly fond exasperation.

“Half hour, that’s it,” he says, holding up his comms to show an alarm set, and Nureyev beams, scooting over and patting the bed beside him. “You’re spoiled, you know that?” Juno grumbles as he lies down, snuggling into Nureyev’s arms.

“And who’s fault would that be, love?” Nureyev asks as he pulls Juno tight to his chest. “Seems to me that one can’t be spoiled without someone to spoil them.”

“That’s not the way any of this works and you know it,” Juno replies, the smile evident in his voice. “Now hush, if we’re gonna nap I want to actually nap.”

“As you wish, detective,” Nureyev hums, and lets himself drift off as he feels the lady in his arms do the same.