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They ended up leaving work together. It was always something of a hassle to convince Basyl to ride on his bike with him, and Nataniel tried not to take it to mean that Basyl expected they’d wreck somewhere on the few streets between the hospital and Basyl’s apartment. Nat always insisted he’d be happy to take Basyl’s car- But oh, wait, he didn’t have one. And he’d be stuck on the bus for an hour if Nataniel didn’ttake him. And the trip on his motorcycle summed up to about three minutes.

It was the obvious choice, and Basyl always begrudgingly relented.

For the entirety of the ride, Nataniel was hyper aware of how tightly the other man held to him, arms looped around his waist and chest plastered to his back like Basyl thought death was coming, and melding with Nat’s back was the only way to stave it off. As with every other time Nataniel had driven them home, they made it safely, and Nat had to peel himself away from his lavender-haired friend as he dismounted.

“You act like this is the worst experience of your life every time,” Nataniel stated as he took his and Basyl’s helmets and locked them in the baggage compartment on the back of the bike. Which was absurd, considering all the times they’d actually been injured and harassed as Narcissus and Rakovanite. A motorcycle ride should feel like nothing after that.

Of course, Basyl had never said anything about their time as Narcissus and Rakovanite, yet.

Even after the night before, when it would have been so convenient to just be out with it. On either of their parts, admittedly. They had spent enough time together that surely, surely Basyl must trust him somewhat… Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe he intended to keep his civilian and powered lives as entirely separate as possible. Maybe he preferred Nataniel or Rakovanite over the other and didn’t want to admit as much. Maybe he just wasn’t as into his life as Narcissus and Nataniel was into his life as Rakovanite.

But he wished it was out, just the same. He wanted so badly for Basyl to just trust him and say it so that they could stop going out of the way to hide things.

That just wasn’t how it was. He rubbed his shoulder, feeling the dull throb of bruises from last night’s escapades. “Do you have dinner plans?” He prompted as he moved toward Basyl’s building.

-----

Ooooh, how he wished- wished!- that Nataniel could be a normal man with a normal car. Like, yes, okay, he shouldn’t really be frightened of the ride when he fought monsters and murderers on a pretty consistent basis, but at least all of that was under his own power! Here, he was just blindly throwing his faith in Nat and hoping the man didn’t run them into a wall- Not that he expected Nataniel would be so reckless, of course, but accidents did happen! And it would happen in a blink, where Basyl wouldn’t even be able to do anything about it…

He wanted his own car, but when he’d been working at the coffee shop and going to school, he barely made enough to even afford his place, let alone a car payment. Now he had eight years’ worth of loans to pay off, and his salary as an intern still wasn’t that much better than it was when he’d been a barista. Basyl knew how to drive and didn’t mind it, but an additional expense just wasn’t in the cards right now.

So buses and free rides home were the best he could do.

He just wished the rides were less… out in the open air.

Still, at least he didn’t have to be offended by the proximity. Basyl liked holding onto Nataniel, liked the little whispers of aftershave he could sometimes smell on the wind, liked how solid and hot he was, even compared to the whipping summer wind as they rode. Just saying, there were worse things to have to endure, even on the back of a bike.

Still, he was always relieved when they made it home. He had to take a few breaths to try and calm and steady himself, a moment to try and relax after his heart pounded loud and hard for the duration of the trip, a second to uncrimp his tight muscles. “Not the worst,” he replied as he passed Nataniel his helmet. “J-just, y’know- I don’t…” He raked a hand against his scalp, bun messy after a day of work. “It’s not the most enjoyable. Although,” He tried a wavering smile, tried to flatten the wavy flyaways of his hair back into place. “There are, uh, some things about it that I wouldn’t change…” His bright magenta gaze flicked down sharply, eyeing Nat’s abs and hips for a second before darting back up.

Red colored his face. It was an embarrassing thing to say out loud to someone, but he knew- knew- it would at least make Nat happy, so… He could live with a little embarrassment.

He skittered ahead quickly after that, hurrying to beat Nataniel to the door so he could unlock it. “I-I did have plans, actually,” he admitted. “I’m going to make pizza. I bought all the ingredients, like canned tomatoes and some red onions… I have stuff for dough and cheese, and- I hope you’ll like it. I won’t put any pepperonis on it, or anything, but I don’t really know what other toppings you’ll eat. Peppers? I’ve got some peppers and olives and mushrooms. I tried to get a little of everything, so we can pick what looks best.” He rambled a little, words coming out quickly and expending all the air in his lungs before he took a breath.

But eventually, he got the door open and let them in. He slung his bag down by the door and kicked off his shoes in a heap.

“Want to wash up, first? We were in a hospital all day…”

----

If he hadn’t been following Basyl’s glance, Nataniel would have absolutely no idea what he was referencing.

No, maybe that was inaccurate. For such a jittery and awkward thing, Basyl wasn’t that secretive about his interest in Nataniel’s physique. He couldn’t even count the number of times that fluttery fingers had grazed his chest or his shoulders, had seen more than once the flick of Basyl’s or Narcissus’ eyes to his biceps and abs. And they’d lain together enough by this point that it was hardly a jump in logic to assume that Basyl probably did enjoy holding him, even if the words weren’t directly between them.

Nataniel’s lips quirked into a slight smile, his posture easing as he allowed himself to settle into the comfort and routine of being near someone he enjoyed, someone he trusted, after having spent much of the day around total strangers.

He reached, because he could, and tucked a wavy, unkempt lock of hair behind Basyl’s ear, before the other man was scurrying ahead of him.

“I do not eat pizza frequently,” he admitted. It was so often a lot of calories and grease, even for veggie slices. “But I would not mind trying it with you. It will be nice to know everything that goes into it.” And it sounded like Basyl had already specifically selected ingredients with him in mind. Convenient.

Nataniel stepped inside behind the other man. Despite the scattered organization he did when he came over, basyl still had so much stuff littering the counters and tables and furniture. It definitely gave him huge anxiety to be in this house, even if nothing was “dirty,” in the sense that it wasn’t smelly or grimy. Just… cluttered. And busy. Nataniel swallowed and carefully set his own satchel near where Basyl had deposited his bag, and toed off his shoes to set neatly by the door.

Before Basyl had a chance to get any farther away from him, Nat snatched an arm out to catch the other man by the elbow and draw him back in. They were alone, in the privacy Basyl’s apartment, and for as often as they passed each other in the hallways of the hospital (admittedly not especially frequently), Nataniel was careful to keep his hands to himself when in public. It seemed slightly less necessary now.

He caught a hand against Basyl’s jaw, guiding the other into tipping his head so that Nataniel could touch their lips together, nipping only very slightly with his teeth, and giving a fleeting taste with his tongue before settling back and separating.

“I could shower,” he replied, tone maybe even very slightly amused.

----

Basyl pointedly ignored the way the other man glanced around his apartment, obviously judging, despite how many times he’d seen it before, and instead focused on the pizza. “I’ve n-never made it myself, so if it comes out pretty bad, we can order out. But I’m p-pretty sure I found a good recipe! It sounds like flavors and processes I’d like, s-so I guess I’d just hoped you would too.”

Maybe he had expected beforehand that Nataniel would be a part of it. What of it? Since they were going to be together here often enough, Basyl may have wanted to come up with things they could actually do, so that they weren’t always sitting around watching television.

No matter how much he just wanted to sit after work, sometimes.

As Basyl started toward the bathroom, the other man snagged him by the arm and tugged him back, laying a catching kiss on his mouth. He sank into the kiss, perching one hand on Nataniel’s chest while the other draped over his shoulder, fingers curling lightly against the ends of his hair.

Basyl let out a giddy choke of a sound, himself at the c**k-eyed, almost-smile on Nataniel’s face, before beckoning the other man to follow him to the bathroom and unabashedly shedding his shirt as he went. They crowded into the small room, and Basyl shut the door behind them.

---

Afterwards, they found themselves on the couch, with Nataniel lazily touseling a towel through his hair to soak up whatever moisture he could. A second was wrapped around his hips, more for cover from the wet-cooled air than actual modesty. He could’ve been perfectly content to do nothing else besides bundle close to Basyl on the sofa and listen to the soft whir of the motors from the fishtank. Maybe they would talk, maybe they wouldn’t. Maybe he’d turn on the tv, or maybe not. They could order food, but they didn’t have to.

It was enough to lounge there, one arm tucked beneath Basyl as Nataniel draped over him with his head resting on the other man’s abdomen.

But Basyl had claimed to have plans that involved things besides laying around for the next few hours, though honestly an early bedtime for his perpetually-exhausted friend might not be the worst thing Basyl had ever experienced. Nataniel tipped his head back to peer at his face and reached a hand up to thumb over the edge of the dark circles that had lined Basyl’s eyes since their very first meeting.

“Do you still want to make dinner?” He rumbled softly. Nat wouldn’t actively dissuade him, and he would of course help if that was still what Basyl wanted to do, but… He wasn’t thrilled about it. “How long do you think it will take?”

---

He’d bundled his own long hair up in a towel, twisting it so that it stayed situated on his head, even as he leaned back against the armrest of the couch. Both of his hands had found their way into Nataniel’s hair, “helping” with the drying as much as he could as he scraped his nails against Nat’s scalp.

Basyl wouldn’t have minded staying like this. He could have fallen asleep there and been content to do so. His body didn’t really want to move, and his mind felt… more relaxed than usual, at least.

But there was still that nag of wanting to follow through on what he’d said he’d do. He wanted to make dinner with Nat. It should be important to establish that they could do more together than just have sex… Though that was established, wasn’t it? They did a lot together, regardless of how the night ended. And… and he couldn’t sleep yet. They had to talk. They had to. He tried to sit up a bit and tried to encourage Nat to do the same.

“We can still try,” he offered. “The recipe I’m using says thirty-five minutes all-told. For crust and sauce and baking. So not very long at all. I don’t know how accurate that is, and I’m sure it would taste better if we took a little longer, but surely we can spare half an hour for dinner, r-right? Don’t you think so?”

Just half an hour. They could manage that. And then they could go eat in bed and cuddle and pass out.

He shimmied himself from beneath Nataniel’s hold and slipped off toward the bedroom to put some kind of garments on. “I’ll grab you something to wear,” Basyl added before he was fully out of sight, not that Nat couldn’t follow him or still see him if he dared to peek around the corner. But he was only gone long enough to pull himself into a pair of boxers and a baggy t-shirt and fish out the same for Nat.

---

Fine. It wasn’t his ideal way to bask in the afterglow, but if it pleased Basyl, Nataniel could manage to stay on his feet for thirty more minutes. He relented without a fuss as the other man slid away from him, and Nataniel sat up more fully once he was alone.

He finished drying his hair and draped the towel over the back of the couch, before standing and giving a languid stretch.

He mosied to the kitchen and casually scoped the refrigerator and cabinets for what sorts of ingredients Basyl had purchased for their dinner. Cans of tomatoes, peppers, onions, mushrooms, as promised. And there was presumably flour somewhere, if they were to be making dough. Nataniel had already done the service of organizing the pots and pans and utensils in this very room. He knew his way around.

When Basyl appeared at his side to offer him spare clothes, Nat hardly thought anything strange about it. He didn’t keep much of his own stuff at Basyl’s place, since it seemed rude to burden his friend with any more clutter than he already had.

But he fit well enough into the garments Basyl had that were much too large for the scrawny man. Nat slipped into the clothes without complaint.

“Can I see that recipe, then?”

—-

He wasn’t sure how much Nat would appreciate it being pointed out that they had something of a routine between them now. Not that Basyl thought he would care that much, of course, but he still couldn’t help the tiny smile that played on his lips as he silently passed shirt and shorts to the other man. It was pretty convenient that they could do even this much so easily, considering what Basyl was hoping to accomplish that night.

Just, not yet. A little more peace, first.

“R-right, yes! Here.” The recipe was saved to his phone, so Basyl pulled it out, clicked over to the saved sites, and set it down on the kitchen counter, between them, so that they could look it over together. “Like I s-said, nothing too complex or time consuming. I hope it comes out well enough…”

He collected whatever of the supplies Nataniel hadn’t found: the flour, the yeast, a wad of fresh mozzarella, basil, oregano, and whatever else the recipe required.

“Alright! So, if we want this to be concise, and I get the feeling you do, do you want to work on the sauce, and I’ll start on the crust? Food processor, measuring cups…” Basyl flit to each implement as he said it, pulling cups out of cabinets and the machine forward on the counter. “Should be all here.”

—-

Not long. Nat’s gaze skimmed down the brief recipe Basyl had found. Each section had only a few ingredients, and most of the time went into the baking. He didn’t know how interested he was in raw sauce going on likely undercooked dough, but it would be fine, regardless.

“I can do that,” he relented, reaching for the few things Basyl had passed him: a can of tomatoes, a clove of garlic, a shaker each of oregano and basil.

Basyl. What a silly name for a thing.

He unceremoniously dumped the required ingredients in the food processor and pulsed it in quick intervals until he had what seemed like a saucy consistency.

“What made you want to cook all of a sudden?” He prompted once the grating of his machine had silenced, leaving only the clatter of whatever Basyl was doing next to him. While they had “made dinner” a scattered few times since Nat had started aiming over, it wasn’t like they’d tried to do anything particularly homemade. Even if this was just thirty-minute pizza, it was still more preparation than slapping something in the oven real quick. Or picking apart lettuce for a salad.

Not that Nataniel minded, of course. He may prefer to be comfortably relaxing in bed, but there was something to be said for how easy it was to slip up behind Basyl while he was at the countertop, slide his hands down around the other man’s hips, and touch a light kiss to the back of his shoulder.

—-

As Nataniel set to his task, Basyl did the same. The instructions and processes were simple. No advanced cooking techniques here. The crust was just a mixture of flour, water, a little oil, and a little yeast. The recipe claimed no rising was required, but he didn’t fully understand how that played with the yeast.

Still, he followed as instructed, and within a few minutes, he was gently stretching the dough out on top of a pizza stone, blotting his fingers along the edges to try and even it out.

“Oh, just- Looking for things to do together,” he replied, the waver in his voice proclaiming his uncertainty of the situation. Not a lie, of course. He did want more for them to do. But he didn’t know how to articulate- or when to articulate- everything it meant. To just want everything open between them. To make it easier on them- to- to just allow themselves to be… normal.

Pizza wasn’t going to fix that. But food was as good a bridge as any.

He slid the bowl of sauce Nataniel had crafted across the counter and toward himself, dipping the tip of a finger in to taste as-

“Mm-” The sound was soft, a tight little note from his throat as he tipped his head to allow more room where Nat’s lips touched his shoulder. There was always this, at least. He twisted where he stood, sparing only a second to lick the sauce from his finger before carding both his hands through Nataniel’s hair.

He looked into dark eyes, knew that Nat was paging mind to literally nothing besides him. -And he should say it, he should just say it. There was pretty much nothing that could go wrong, so there was no reason to hesitate, but Basyl’s lips parted once, shut, parted again- “Move in with me,” he whispered, tone tight and restrained.

—-

Basyl turned to him, and one of Nat’s hands flit from his hip and up to his neck, fanning his palm over warm skin that tangled into loose lavender waves. Things to do together? “Do you grow bored with our typical activities?” He queried lightly, using his other hand to tug at a narrow hip and notch them together.

He… knew he wasn’t the most fun. Nataniel wasn’t as social as Basyl and felt little need to experiment with anything new and unfamiliar. He could be content to sit at home and just play computer games for several hours a night. He enjoyed spending nights at Basyl’s apartment, fit together while watching a movie. He worked out in the morning, he occasionally went to the bar on the weekends. He wouldn’t need much else, he didn’t think.

And though he could do things for Basyl’s enjoyment, Nat didn’t feel too much like he got any extra out of it, himself.

He liked when Basyl touched him. When Basyl kissed his and responded to him and knew what kind of person he was and didn’t care-

Except he didn’t really know, did he? He knew Nataniel, but nothing else. He knew the things Nataniel had done. Not the things Rakovanite had done. Narcissus may know, but if they couldn’t be equated to the same person, how could he believe Basyl knew anything about him? Was he totally delusional in thinking Basyl didn’t know…?

“Move in with you?” Nataniel repeated in a tumbling murmur. “Here?” His eyes flit, dark and judging to the piles of Knick-knacks that lined shelves and tables and the counter. “It is… cluttered, as is.”

—-

Basyl scoffed derisively. “You can’t hate it that badly; you’re here every other night, at least,” he pointed out with as scathing of a glower that he was capable of. It was just stuff. They could move it around.

“But no, I m-meant… Maybe somewhere else? My lease will be up soon.” He rolled his shoulders in a noncommittal shrug. “I don’t have to renew it, and we could find somewhere that suited both our needs… If you wanted. I know you’re trying to get out of your parents’ house, so…?” They were together everywhere they went. They were together everywhere. Work and Basyl’s home, and with Rakovanite stalking Narcissus every time they powered up.

It would be easier. It would just be so much easier. He should say that.

Basyl should be forward. Just say it to him. Be out with it. ’I know you.’

“Y-you’ve been stalking me, besides.” Heat rose to the tips of his ears before the words were even fully out, and he instantly wished he’d gone with something more subtle- “I-I mean, we- Spend a lot of time together. You come over a lot. I-it would just- it’d be easier, I think… to just have someplace together. Better for travel and money and you wouldn’t live with your parents. W-we could patrol, even-“

—-

Nataniel wasn’t adverse to finding new living arrangements. Money was still a little tight while he settled into his job, and he didn’t have many friends he would try to live with, so his family was just the best option…

Even if not the most convenient. There was a lot he needed to hide from them: all his nightly activities. Even if he could mostly come and go as he pleased, he couldn’t routinely show up with injuries, and there was a limit to what he was willing to explain. It was better for them, if he was able to keep a polite distance. Basyl, at least, was already a part of this, even if he wouldn’t admit it to Nat-

Patrol.

The word was out so quickly and effortlessly, Nataniel might have thought nothing of it among the rest of what Basyl was saying. They did spend a lot of time together. Nataniel was often where Basyl happened to be. ‘Stalking’ might be excessive, but… also perhaps not entirely inaccurate.

But then there was that word, patrol. What they did together only as Narcissus and Rakovanite. He didn’t know if it was intentional or accidental, but it was telling. Basyl knew he was speaking to someone as involved in this war as he was, himself.

“You knew,” Nataniel murmured quietly, his dark eyes flashing like coal, though his tone was carefully neutral. “You said nothing.”

—-

“So did you,” Basyl countered quietly and quickly. Despite the accusation, there was still no space between them. He tucked his head down, avoiding Nat’s gaze as he fidgeted with the ends of his own hair.

“I-I wasn't trying to deceive you. I only hoped you would feel comfortable enough in your own time to just… be out with it. You do hang around a lot, a-and I enjoy it,” he assured hastily. “So I’d hoped… I guess I’d hoped you’d realize I wasn’t a complete idiot and would just trust me enough to be open. I knew. I knew you. I have- I have a magic of some kind… That helps me read people a little. I knew who you were the second you said your name in the hospital. ‘Nataniel.’ Diesel said it however many times while we were in the village, and then with the magic-“

Even as he tried to put together the words, it didn’t sound like it made perfect sense. He’d thought about how to say it over and over, and it still wasn’t even what he hoped to convey.

“I knew you knew me,” he said with a shrug. “I could look in your eyes and see… that you knew me.”

—-

Nataniel was quiet, and for all that he didn’t know what he was looking for or even how he’d know if he saw it, his gaze still lingered searchingly on Basyl’s downcast face. He’d known. Maybe it should have been obvious that he’d known. Basyl was intelligent and analytical. He was a doctor. It was his job to deduce things that people couldn’t tell him, and Nataniel should’ve realized just from how seamlessly they interacted between their civilian and powered lives…

It was obvious. And he hadn’t tried that hard to keep the secret. His thumb skimmed beneath the bottom of Basyl’s tee shirt, lifting it enough to touch warm skin.

Warm skin mottled by the bruises of their recent otherworldly scuffle.

Everything they’d been through, everything he was… They could share those things. They’d only known each other a year, but Narcissus had always consistently shown him care and kindness, warmth, affection… It didn't matter if he was ‘Nataniel’ or ‘Rakovanite.’ Basyl had never done anything that would bring him harm.

Nataniel touched his forehead to Basyl’s shoulder, arms slinking around his back and holding him as he murmured, “I would like to look for a place with you.”

—-

R-right, right… So there’s been absolutely no reason to feel insecure. Pretty much no reason to delay it as long as they had. No one had been upset. No one had been hurt. Surely no one was going to be hurt, at this point. The secret was only barely a secret, at all, so it wasn’t like he’d revealed anything not already known.

But Basyl’s heart still fluttered in that way like he’d just done something monumental.

He swallowed and tipped his head up to shoot a nervous smile back at Nat. They were still together and content in that they were. He smeared one of Nat’s bangs back behind his ear and leaned in to touch a very light kiss to his lips. “Good. We can start looking as soon as you want. I’ll need to be out by end of August, if we really are going to move…”

Nat’s arms circled him. Basyl leaned to him, happy to hold onto him for as long as Nat wanted. Except, not really. He shimmied away from the hold, gesturing to their little pan of dough and bowl of sauce. “Let’s finish this up,” he suggested. “It’ll have at least twenty minutes of baking time, so… enough to… talk more, once it’s in.”

—-

It was more to discuss than Nataniel was mentally prepared fir in one day. Not only the impromptu revelation, but a move. Both things he could be eager for, but taxing in their own ways. And a lot for his sex-addled mind to think about, when he would still prefer to be in bed.

Perhaps that was why he found himself so agreeable to the situation.

They smeared sauce on the dough. Basyl shredded up the cheese, while Nataniel briskly chopped some onions, mushrooms, and peppers. He scattered them haphazardly on the pie, and then it was in the oven.

The whole process of dough, sauce, talk, and toppings had taken maybe twenty minutes. And once it was situated for baking, they returned to the couch to wait out the rest of the bake time. Nat found that he was still content to drape an arm across Basyl’s shoulder, and let the lavender-haired man rest his head against Nat’s chest while Basyl casually ambled through rent websites.