peace_inthe_violence

Booker didn't bother opening his eyes. He knew Andy's steps as well as his own. He did make a sound of protest when she splashed his face. Damn it, he was trying to relax.

Of course, he knew what he was in for when she joined him in the water. Booker twisted around and braced himself to get dragged under the water for a bit of wrestling.

Not that he was against that. Once Andy burned off the energy they could probably relax together.

Booker didn't need Nicky to explain. He understood because he lived with it. Sometimes, the mind was simply dark and stormy, full of guilt and self-loathing.

"Well, she partially dragged me because I was very drunk," Booker explained with a playful little smile. It faded quickly though. "But I don't regret the night. It did comfort me."

He frowned a little at Nicky's comment. He had those sorts of thoughts once about Joe and Nicky. He had been wrong.

"Feeling some Catholic guilt about all we've done?" Booker didn't mean just the killing but the sex as well. It had been awhile since he indulged with Joe and Nicky.

"Joe makes everyone beautiful," Andy agreed softly, only turning enough to be able to see Nicky and smile.

"It's his talent." The sword, the skill with weapons, that was only a byproduct of their life. Joe had always had a way with art, written or drawn or whatever other kind. She chuckled at the comment about being full of pizza: he'd eaten all of his despite them trying to help, and had poked his fork into the back of he hand to make sure she didn't take any slices. It did make her slowly, carefully lever herself up, careful not to jar or crease the artwork as she settled on her knees between Nicky's shins, head tilted up. Expectant.

She broke the surface beside him silently and gracefully, hair slicked back from her face and a smile on her lips, kicking to keep herself afloat as she ducked him under. The wrestling was gently enough that he could deflect her if he wanted, but Andy doubted Booker would. It was all in good fun.

"Come get me," she laughed before slipping away, aiming to chase him, or failing that make him chaseher.

Booker caught Andy as soon as she was in reach. He wrapped her in his arms and then dragged them both under the water for a moment. Then he let go and swam away from her.

He broke the surface a few feet away and pushed his hair back out of his eyes. "You are trouble. Anywhere you go even here."

A few seconds later Booker dove for her. He was a good swimmer with his strong shoulders. He could close in on her with a few solid strokes of his arms. She had to move fast, which he knew she could do easily.

His smirk was bitter sweet and he took another swig from his bottle before he pointedly set it down on the floor next to him so that it wouldn't be quite so easy for him to just absently drink because it was in his hands.

"One day I will leave this world and on that day I will leave Yusuf at the Gates as I fall. And it will be for many, many reasons. Not just who's cock has been inside me."

He was quiet for a moment, picking absently at the seam of the upholstery.

"I've done things that would make you hate me, Sebastien. Things that, if you knew them, you'd weigh me down and throw me in the ocean yourself."

Andy shrieked out a laugh when Booker caught her, bubbling up through the water: neither of them would drown so easily, and she twisted away from his grasping hands under the water, darting through the water like a fish. She could move faster than him, it was true, but he was a stronger swimmer than she.

They thrashed for a moment until she kicked free and swam to the edge, hand grasping the tiled edge though her ankles were still in easy grasp.

Never come between an Italian and their pizza.

He grinned as she sat up, shifting himself upright so that when she settled between his knees all he had to do was lean forward and touch their lips together.

It was quick and chaste, but there was a flash of teeth nipping at her lower lip as he pulled away.

"You are very kind to me."

"Don't you have a papal dispensation?" Booker mused as he considered the bottle of wine. "For being in the Crusades. I thought that absolved you of every sin from then until eternity."

He was a well read drunk. One of the other places he found peace in were the pages of a good book, fiction or non-fiction. That included the history from before he was with the them.

"I doubt that." He took a drink because it was great wine and he liked being drunk. It was as simple as that. "I'm not scholar of the Crusades but I'm not ignorant. Haven't tried to throw you in the ocean yet. It was bad, yes. I wouldn't call that you a good man but you're not that bastard anymore."

Booker made a playful grab for her ankles but didn't actually grab her. Instead he pushed away from the edge of the pool and floated on his back again. The whole point was to stay in the water to beat the afternoon heat.

"If you're getting out bring from drinks back with you." Booker would take water or juice or alcohol of some sort. He wanted the alcohol but he would leave it up to her.

If she actually got out of the water. Booker thought it might be bait. She could bluff pretty well when she wanted.

He grinned, and the expression was all teeth.

"Sì. I do. Nothing more than a man promising pretty babbles to peasants if they murder in his name. I doubt God will have much mercy on my soul even with such a flimsy promise."

He sighed, closing his eyes as he leaned back, face tipped towards the ceiling. He hated nights like this. Nights were his dreams were full of screams and smoke and every time he closed his eyes all he could smell was the acrid stench of burning flesh.

"That me and this me are the same me, Booker. There is no divide. I did those things, not some monster wearing my face but separate from me. I murdered hundreds...and not all were armed men who stood facing me."

Which wasn't exactly true, but it was true enough that Nicky still hated himself for it.

"God isn't merciful. We're Catholic."

Though Booker was more than lapsed. He hadn't even been to so much as a Christmas Mass in decades. He had no faith in a God that would make a father watch his son die unable to give his immortality away.

What a fucking miserable creator that was.

"There's a change, though. You gave up your zealotry. You learned to love your 'enemy." Booker rubbed his hand over his face as he tried to remember the Bible verse he wanted.

Drunk, he couldn't think clearly enough to do it. "Yes, you did them. But you regret them. A monster wouldn't regret them. A monster would celebrate it."

She chuckled as she hauled herself up to sit on the edge, legs still dangling in the water and sunlight glittering off the drops stuck to her skin. "I'll get you a drink if you come here," Andy replied, curling her finger in a gesture to draw him over.

"Nicky found peaches in the market yesterday," she said, leaning forward enough to put her elbows on her knees; he'd diced them and left them in alcohol and sugar in the fridge for some occasion, though Andy doubted he'd miss enough to make two drinks. "Might make you something with it."

That startled a bark of laughter from him, shaking him loose of the spiral that had started to set it's talons in him so completely. It wasn't gone, but it was once again only scratching at his skin instead of digging through his flesh.

"'God isn't merciful. We're Catholic'. I like that. I should get that made into a t-shirt."

He reached down, picking up that bottle for another drink. For a moment he considered leaving it on his lap, but in the end he settled it back on the floor.

"Sometimes I wonder how he can look at me without driving his blade through my heart and just leaving it there."

"And you to me, Nicky," she murmured softly, settling her weight back on her heels as she tugged him back. It wasn't for another kiss, just to rest their heads against each other. It was calming, grounding having them so close, and Nicky was by far the most physically demonstrative of them, though Joe was a close second.

"Thank you for bringing us all here."

Booker was always quick with a good quip when the situation called for it. It was also very true. He remembered Mass being very damning. They were all sinners doomed to hell and they could try good works to save themselves but, well, it wasn't likely.

"Love is a very powerful thing." Booker tipped his head back against the chair and smiled sadly at the ceiling. "My wife... when I was arrested the second time I thought she would be furious. My sons were. She held me and promised me it would be alright."

He sighed heavily and took a very long drink. Booker missed that love. "He's not blind to your crimes but he loves you anyway. What a hell of a powerful thing that is. What a gift."

For the promise of a nice cool drink Booker could be tempted. He lazily made his way over with a few gentle kicks of his legs.

He folded his arms over her lap and rested his chin on top of them. "Sounds like you're going to make me something very sweet."

She probably meant he should come sit with her but this was more entertaining to him. Considering how much they had draped themselves all over him recently he figured a little turn about was fair play.

Booker wasn't picky about alcohol but he did prefer things that burned instead of sweet things that hid how much alcohol was actually in the drink.

Andy smiled down at him when he came close and put his head on her lap, only leaning down and tilting him up to meet her for a kiss that felt like nuzzling in, enveloping themselves in each other. It didn't progress very far, though he'd feel the sharp nip of her teeth sinking into his lip, and when they broke off it was to a still-lazy curl of her mouth.

"Not too sweet. I know you like the bitter."

"Not really a fan of grapes, no big loss as far as I'm concerned." She shook her head, "And if I never see another zucchini in my life it will be too soon." An opinion she might change her mind on a few decades down the line, but one that she was fairly dead set on at the moment.

"If there's still good tomato plants down there though that's a start. I was thinking beans, too, string beans or yellow wax beans, because they'll climb the tomato cages easy as anything else." She gave a little shrug, "My mom says it keeps the bugs off the tomatoes until they're big enough to handle it on their own." Something she wasn't entirely sure worked, but always seemed to, so she didn't argue the point.

Booker smiled softly at the kiss.

"I like strong flavors. Sweet just hurts my teeth." He never grew up with a lot of sweet things and even once they became mass produced and cheap he never really learned to love sugar.

"But make yourself whatever you'd like. I know there's plenty of vodka around." Booker had made a dent in their whiskey because it was his favorite but he hadn't touched many of the other bottles in the house. "I'll be here working on my tan."

He pushed off from her lap and went back to floating in the water with a pleased smile.

He was quiet for a while, letting that sink in through his alcohol soaked brain. He could still smell the smoke at the end of each breath, but it was further away now, over shadowed by the image of Booker with a woman's arms around him.

Nicky had never met Booker's wife. He'd spied on her from afar while he'd been keeping an eye on their reluctant new member, but he'd never actually introduced himself. From everything he'd managed to collect over the last two hundred years, however, she seemed like a wonderful woman.

But she wasn't the only one who loved Sebastien like that. And Joe wasn't the only one who loved him. It wasn't the exact same, but it was still close enough that he finally picked his head up from his knees and focused his gaze on the man in the other chair.

"Thank you for that gift, Sebastien. For knowing my crimes, but loving me anyway. I love you, too. All of you."

"I know," she replied with a hum, disappearing inside again and coming back with two glasses: not vodka, surprisingly enough. Andy would drink pretty much anything, but vodka had a clean finish, it didn't leave a taste on her tongue to be washed away later.

Bourbon and the peaches Nicky had left in the fridge would do well enough on a hot day, and Andy only twisted her hand holding Booker's glass to make the ice cubes clink. "Here. Your promised drink," she teased, though she'd make him come get it from her. She laid down on the towel she'd brought out beside the pool, closing her eyes to the bright sunlight.

And maybe sneaking glances at Booker once in a while. "You're going to be uneven if you stay in the water like that, though."

Back then Booker had done all he could to keep the others away from his family, to keep their message of "leave them" behind. After war and death all he wanted was to be with them. It had felt so healing at first until it all fell apart.

"You're an easy soul to love, Nicolo." He had slipped back into his native tongue, that's how drunk he was. It was turning into a better drunk than before, less dark and stormy.

He still held his love for his wife deep in his heart. A first love, a first true love like that could never fade. Just like the love he felt for his sons.

But he still loved all of them. How could he not? They had put him back together after Jean-Pierre's death and never left his side all these decades.

The dark amber liquid and a few floating bits of peach were a siren's call. Booker swam over to the edge of the pool and propped himself on his arms. He took the glass immediately and drank.

It was just the right mix of burn and sweet. Andy was too good to him.

"I'll have to come out tomorrow and do the other side then." He stayed by the edge of the pool this time. There was a drink to enjoy and good company. Booker soaked up the peaceful moment. Who knew when their life would turn to war again?

"I can lie around like a bum while I tan my bum."

"I know what you like," Andy teased when he took the glass, setting her own, once sipped, on her bare stomach just below the swell of her ribs, despite the hiss from the ice and condensation on her skin, the contrast of warmth and cold something lovely. She didn't mind at all laying out in the sun and basking in the warmth. It was a lot more tolerable than being in the middle of the desert: here at least they had drinks, and nice air conditioning to escape into.

"Eh, you're not a bum yet. Not while Nicky's going to make you cook with him. You know he doesn't trust the rest of us in the kitchen."

Malta

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