Niko sighed, eyes closing, the brush of James' nose against his ear prompting a fond smile that he tried to fight. It was uncanny how something so small could make him feel like he was finally home again.
“I know you were. I searched… for a long time.” Too long, probably, in the estimation of most psychologists, holding onto a hope that, by all rights, wasn’t even a hope any longer. just a wish really. Maybe his choices during that time weren’t the best, were a little too reckless, and had incredible potential to blow up in his face. But Niko had been more than willing to assume those risks. Somehow they hadn’t gotten him killed, which he put down more to luck than skill.
A slight shrug. “I’m harder to kill than most people expect.” Harm, hurt, maim, sure, that happened often enough but no one had managed to kill him yet, somewhat shockingly.
Pulling away he tilted his face upwards and smiled at James, a brief tentative thing, there one moment and gone the next. Any threat of those tears from earlier had already been blinked away. This wasn’t the time for that; he considered it his responsibility to put on his usual unshakeable face. Tears, happy or otherwise, would only complicate matters and Nikolai had no intention of putting any added strain on James.
A voice somewhere in the recesses of his mind told him he really ought to be suspicious. That this was too coincidental. Too fortuitous. That he should be grilling James himself because you could never be too careful. But like it or not, love could override even his distrustful nature. Those questions could wait. Whatever the whole story was, Niko suspected James wouldn’t kill him in his sleep. Probably. (And if he did? Hadn’t Nikolai been willing to risk his life just to find him for the last four years anyway? It was hard to get the jump on a clairvoyant telepath anyhow, even during sleep.) Besides, he would surely hear all about it more tomorrow. Maybe even read a report on the interrogation, if he were lucky.
“So… this is my home. Such as it is. I take it you’ll be staying here with me?” The intonation marked it as a question, though he wasn’t entirely sure that James had an answer. His hand went to his chest again, tracing the outline of his old wedding band through his shirt.