There was supposed to be more plot in this chapter but then I wanted a little moment with Rico and Kowalski because they needed to talk, but that turned into some chest touching, and, well it's now established that Rico is the little spoon.
Sleep wasn't coming easy for Kowalski. He had managed to doze off for a few hours but the silence in the room was getting to him. He listened to Rico shift restlessly across the room and debated on saying something when he heard Rico his bedside lamp on. But he refrained as the soft sound of a pencil across paper filled the previous silence.
Then Rico let out a sharp gasp and Kowalski heard the sketchbook and pencil fall to the floor. Within seconds Kowalski was across the room and pressing his fingers of one hand to the side of Rico's neck while the other hand found one of Rico's hands which were clenched against the left side of his chest. Kowalski frowned, noting that Rico's pulse was still within a normal range. "What are you feeling right now? Does it hurt?"
Rico nodded, wincing as the tightness refused to let up, "like heartburn."
"Okay, anything else? Do you feel dizzy? Or nauseous? Pain going up your arm and into the back of your neck?"
"No," Rico squeezed Kowalski's hand as something his chest clenched again.
"I think you're having a minor coronary spasm," Kowalski recalled seeing those listed in Rico's file, although it was simply a nicer way of saying heart attack. "Do you want to go to the hospital?"
Rico let out a bitter laugh and shook his head, "no point."
"Right," Kowalski frowned and wanted to argue, but he knew Rico was right. With the nanites, there was little that a hospital could do, but Rico's pulse remained strong and he felt comfortable enough to stop tracking it. But he would have to keep an eye on the clock since coronary spasms were only supposed to last between 10-15 minutes. He winced as Rico squeezed his hand again.
"Sorry," Rico uttered and let go of Kowalski's hand, trying not to lament the loss of physical contact. If there was anything that he had missed, not just in the last few days, but even during the past weeks of Doris and Kowalski's relationship, it was the ease in which Kowalski would initiate and return touches. Often the other man never noticed that he did such a thing but Rico certainly had when Kowalski started putting more distance between them. It was hard to remember that Kowalski wasn't his, even if it had felt like it many times before.
Kowalski hesitated for a moment, then reached over to take Rico's hand which was now on the bed between them. He ran his thumb over Rico's knuckles without thinking. "Don't be. If anyone should be sorry it's me. And I know this is long overdue to say this, but I am so sorry."
"Not your fault."
"Everyone keeps telling me that and even if you say that, I shouldn't have let my emotions get the best of me," Kowalski started to say, he had more than enough time to realize his mistake in all of this. "And you got hurt as a result and I never wanted to hurt you," he squeezed Rico's hand and forced himself to look up and meet Rico's curious yet painfilled gaze. Only a few hours ago he had been ready to come clean about having seen the video, but now he couldn't bring himself to say anything about it and just hoped that Rico understood what he wasn't saying.
"I know," Rico whispered softly, unsure and slightly afraid of where Kowalski was going with this. He couldn't help but wonder if Doris had told him that night held any truth.
"I don't expect you to forgive me with everything that happened, and I don't know if you still trust me," Kowalski froze for a moment, surprised by Rico taking the hand he was still holding and pressing it flat to his chest, right at the Y of the scar. And the way his pinky brushed against the hand that Rico had been absently rubbing the left side of his chest with as if it would ease the pain felt oddly intimate even if they had been holding hands just a few moments before. It was almost an echo of the night that seemed so long ago now and much like then it lasted for only a moment. Except for this time it was Kowalski who pulled away as if the heat of Rico's bare skin under his hand was enough to burn. Still, Kowalski understood and swallowed thickly at the reassurance that he hadn't lost Rico's trust. "Rico, I'm not going to let Doris win. You saved me last time and this time, I'm going to find a way to save you."
Rico smiled at him and nodded again, "okay."
Kowalski glanced at the time, surprised that ten minutes had already gone by, and forced himself to focus on the reason he was sitting with Rico at three in the morning to begin with. "It's been long enough that those spasms should have ended. Does it still hurt like before or has it stopped?"
"Dull ache?" Rico offered in return, not sure how else to phrase what his chest felt like inside. The combination of physical and emotional pain was hard to separate when it felt like his heart was in a blender the last few days.
"That's better than before, I guess. And we should probably both try to get some sleep tonight," Kowalski stood, but not before leaning over to pick up the fallen sketchbook and pencil. He caught only a glimpse of himself on a page before Rico quickly snatched it from him and threw it in the night's open drawer which was shut shortly after. "Sorry, I didn't mean to look. I know that your sketchbooks are pretty personal."
Rico looked away, his cheek darkening, and muttered a soft, "some are, some aren't."
"May I suggest color-coding them so we know for future reference?" Rico chuckled and it struck Kowalski that that had been closest to laughter he had heard from Rico in weeks. "Anyway, let me know if the spasms start again or if you need anything. Night, Rico."
Kowalski had barely taken three steps back to his side of the room when Rico spoke: "K'Walski?"
"Hmm?" Kowalski's chest ached as he imagined what Rico would say. If he was being honest with himself, he didn't want to return to his own bed. It occurred to him now that when he started dating Doris, all those soft quiet moments that he shared with Rico on nights when they couldn't sleep had stopped. And he missed it terribly, but it wasn't his place to ask Rico to stay up with him or watch a movie downstairs on the couch, listen to music in the studio, or sit on the roof with their legs in the pool.
"Would you stay?" Rico asked timidly, not sure why he wanted to torture himself further. But if he had only a few weeks or months to live then he was going to enjoy whatever months he could get with Kowalski.
"Move over," Kowalski answered and slid into the bed next to Rico. He wasn't entirely sure why Rico hadn't just stayed at Julien's if the two were together again. But if he thinks he's going to die then he probably wouldn't want to make things any more painful for Julien, his mind supplied as he reached over and turned out the light.
As they settled in, it occurred to Kowalski that It has been months since they had shared a bed like this and once again Kowalski's chest ached at the reminder and he was loathed to recall the times he had spent the night at Doris's but had been unable to sleep until he tricked himself into thinking that the person next to him was Rico. Of course upon waking his mind would pick out everything that was "wrong" with the body pressed to his: pale, light hair, not enough hair, no muscles, and the most obvious error: female. But Kowalski couldn't let himself think about that- he refused to let himself think about it and instead focused on the sound of Rico's even breaths and the warmth that radiated off him like he was the center of the solar system and slowly drifted off to sleep.
A crash from the kitchen jolted Kowalski awake and his arm instinctively tightened around Rico's waist as the other man jolted awake as well.
"Goddamnit!"
Skipper's shout urged them both out of the bed and they stumbled down the stairs after Private. Nearly running into him when the youngest froze in the entryway.
"Hello boys, it's been a while."
Kowalski blinked dumbly at the sight of the double-crossing Dane sitting at their kitchen table, drinking coffee out of Skipper's mug as if he lived there.
And speaking of their leader, Skipper emerged from the kitchen with his brow furrowed in annoyance. He glanced over at them, "Private I owe you a new mug," before focusing his attention on Hans. "And you, what part of 1300 hours do you not understand?"
"Oh please Skipper, you should know by now that if you tell me to come, then I'm going to come." Hans purred and smirked at Skipper's face growing red.
"What is he doing here Skippa?" Private frowned, choosing to ignore that it was probably the lunacorn mug that had been broken and Rico's snickering at Hans wordings. Instead noted that Skipper seemed more annoyed by Hans' appearance than surprised.
"I invited him," Skipper sighed. "I figured Hans has worked with Blowhole before so he may be able to get an 'in' with Doris if she wasn't already tipped off about where his loyalties lie. And even if she was, Hans here didn't give CENTRAAL all his intel on Blowhole and CENTRAAL didn't get all of the intel when they raided his labs. Besides that, we'll also need the extra manpower, even if it is a Puffin."
"Why Skipper, your words wound me. Or have you forgotten that night in Denmark? I was sore for days afterward." A sly smirk crossed the spy's features, "It was quite the fight."
"This isn't the time, Hans," Skipper growled and made a quick gesture toward Rico which sobered Hans's mischievous look.
"Right," Hans nodded and sat up in his chair. "We can have the time for pleasure after we finish business…and breakfast. It was a long flight and the food was terrible so I hope you don't mind but I borrowed your kitchen to make a quiche. It should be done in a few minutes."
Skipper grit his teeth, "Fine, we'll have breakfast and then we can talk about what you found. And you better have found something Hans or so help me I will shoot you."