Chapter Five: A clock is ticking, but it's hidden far away.

Nick tugged the blanket tighter around him and tried to concentrate on the TV. Irritation was bleeding over his connection to Olive and Peter and he supposed he could close things off, but they had been operating with the connection wide open for almost a week now. The thought of not feeling them, especially when they weren't home, made him nervous. They'd ease off of each other eventually -- there was no way they could maintain this sort of togetherness and keep their sanity -- but for now it was comforting to have them there.

Even if they were so goddamn cranky that it was setting his teeth on edge.

Olive had come as close to refusing an order as she ever had. Hell, if it had been anyone other than Peter giving the order she would have. They were still working out the weirdness that Peter's shift from partner to handler had caused but they both trusted him enough to follow his lead even if they didn't like it. So Nick stayed home while Peter and Olive went off to work. The sting of being left behind had been softened considerably by the quick hug Peter had wrapped him in before they took off. The flicker of emotion beneath the surface was nice, too, something Nick had been catching more and more often. He was trying not to be impatient with either of them. Adjusting to one major change was enough for now.

It wasn't just the change in Peter's role in their little team, either. The building resentment was going to be an issue sooner or later. The Bosses would only take so much pushing from Olive before they pushed back, and they usually pushed back with bullets through the head. He and Peter were trying to temper Olive's anger but it was a half-hearted effort at best because they didn't really disagree with her.

Nick felt a shift in their emotions, prickles of fear and sorrow, and he was tempted to slide closer to them to listen in but held back. They were probably talking about him, anyway, and he wasn't sure he needed to hear it. They were getting better about their over-protectiveness but it was still a bit much sometimes. Olive shifted again, and he felt her sweeping over the site, pleased with what she felt, and then she and Peter were moving and their adrenaline made his heart pound.

He tipped his head against the back of the couch and enjoyed the rush. Pride flickered from Peter as he got through security, followed by a sharp burst of almost-pain from Olive when she took out surveillance. The next burst wasn't almost -- it was full-on pain, searing through Peter's shoulder, followed by shock and terror. Nick's eyes snapped open and he bit back a scream.

Rage spilled from Olive, hot and bright like the flames he could feel engulfing the security guard, and then she was consumed by panic, her mind skittering wildly. She was feeding off Peter's pain, fear circling between them, and he couldn't get a hold of her thoughts, couldn't calm her. Nick slid sideways to Peter and fought his way past the agony of the bullet wound in Peter's shoulder. Nick pushed Olive's terror away from Peter -- pushed away his own terror at how close the bullet had been to Peter's heart, silenced the terrified voice in the back of his head that was babbling that Peter had just about gotten killed -- and held her at bay to give Peter enough distance to calm her. Hot pain radiated through his shoulder again followed by giddy relief from both of them. There was a moment that echoed between them and then they were moving again.

He caught satisfaction when they had the files they came for, when the target was dead and bleeding at their feet, underscored by irritation. Lots and lots of irritation and neither he nor Peter could think of a good reason to stop Olive from blowing up the building. The explosion and the fire made her feel better and she stopped a moment to survey her work before she and Peter took off. Even the pounding headache from overextending herself wasn't enough to dim her pleasure at reducing the site to ashes. The pleasure quickly soured to resentment.

He felt it then, the thought that had been lurking in the back of all of their minds, only out in the open now -- they were tired of being used. It hovered there between them and Nick could feel excitement twisting through them as the plan formed. Take them down. Work from within. Olive's thoughts and they all agreed and Nick felt dizzy from the anticipation.

Nick was tangled in their minds as they moved to leave and he felt the unguarded wash of emotion between them as their hands brushed. His breath caught in his throat, and he didn't mean to eavesdrop, not really, but he couldn't get away from them. They were moving well ahead of their thoughts, letting the emotional high guide their actions and Olive was in Peter's arms, lips against his before either them realized what they were doing.

Nick's jaw dropped.

Shock burst over their link, and before Nick could react Olive panicked and slammed her walls up. Peter followed, but not before a sickening wave of guilt rolled off of him. Nick scrambled after them but they really didn't want to let him through. He let it go, sank back down into the couch and rubbed at his eyes. Of course, it would take one of them nearly getting killed for Olive and Peter to act. Nick chuffed out a little laugh and let the grin spread over his face.

They couldn't ignore it now. He wouldn't let them ignore it now.

*****

The drive back to the compound was all but silent. Peter spent a few minutes digging around for pain meds but came up empty. He slumped in the passenger seat getting blood all over the company car, thankful it wasn't his. Or hers. He'd never hear the end of it if he soaked Olive's car in blood. She was glancing over at him far more often than she should, brow furrowed with pain and concentration. They'd clamped down tightly on their connection, trying to keep the worst of their pain to themselves, but he still was getting hints of worry and guilt and excitement from her. Mostly guilt and he wished she'd stop. He had enough of his own. He didn't think he'd ever be able to meet Nick's eyes again. Just thinking about it set another wave of jittery nausea through him and he dropped his head against the side window.

"Peter?" Soft and worried and she was reaching over to touch his hand. He twitched his hand away from hers and he felt the little shock of hurt from her, confusion. He kept his eyes closed for the rest of the drive.

The compound was quiet this time of night, dimly lit and looking like the country estate it pretended to be. The extra security was subtle and evidence of the labyrinth of labs and facilities below ground was invisible to all but the most observant guest.

One of the guards at the front gate had called ahead and there was a little knot of people waiting at the side lot where she parked. The doctor was one of the younger ones, fussing over Peter immediately, herding him inside. Olive handed the files off to one of the analysts and trailed behind the doctor, following them to medical. She stood near Peter, shifting from foot to foot.

"Go home, Olivia. Get some sleep."

His voice startled her from her brooding and she looked up sharply. She couldn't think of anything to say; everything was too jumbled up in her mind. She nodded but she didn't leave.

He watched her, held her glassy eyes with his then turned his head towards the doctor that was digging around in his shoulder like he was hunting for treasure. "How long is this gonna take?"

The doctor made a triumphant little sound and pulled out the bullet, held it up like a trophy. "Few more minutes to get you patched back up. You've lost a lot of blood so we'll keep you here tonight for a trans…"

"No. I'll get a driver to take me home."

"But Mr. Bishop..."

Peter snarled at him. "Finish up. I'm not staying here." He glanced back to Olive, who was swaying a little where she stood. "Sit down, Olivia, before you fall down." He pointed at a chair and she wandered over and sank into it. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, dozing while the doctor stitched up his shoulder, bandaged it.

It was another twenty minutes before the doctor was actually finished with him and reluctantly sent him on his way with his arm in a sling and pain meds and antibiotics as parting gifts. Olive had curled up in the chair, head pillowed on her arms. He touched the crown of her head without thinking, a casual brush of fingers that opened a torrent of emotion between them. He pulled away sharply and she muttered apologies, but he didn't really think she was talking to him. She blinked up at him, disoriented.

"Come on. Let's get the fuck out of here." She nodded at that, an easy thing to agree to, and they made their way to the garage.

*****

Olive flopped into the backseat of the car and willed herself to stay awake. The driver was one they knew and he shook his head at their sorry state. "Drop you off first, Mr. Bishop?"

Peter was opening his mouth to agree when Olive cut him off. "No, just my place, Danny."

"Ol…"

"Shut up, Peter. You're hurt and there's no way you should be alone tonight."

Peter opened his mouth to argue but she glared him into submission. It helped that she was right. He'd never leave her or Nick alone if they were hurt and he certainly shouldn't expect her to do that to him. Even if they had just fucked up more royally than they'd ever managed to do before.

Peter sank back against the seat and closed his eyes. He leaned against the door, curled away from her. The meds were just barely taking the edge off his pain; despite his efforts to stay closed off he was bleeding over to her, making her jittery and nauseous. She was torn between wanting to stay as far away from him as possible and wrapping her arms around him. She settled for watching him until they pulled up outside the apartment.

Nick was quiet when he opened the door, just radiated relief and ushered them inside. He didn't say anything when Peter dropped his backpack on the floor, went straight to the bathroom and slammed the door. Olive stared at her feet, tried to fight the tightness in her throat and the butterfly feeling in her stomach. Her eyes stung. Nick's hands were gentle, just a ghost of a touch when he cupped her face and tilted her head up.

Meeting his eyes was too much. When she clenched her own eyes shut, tears spilled down her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around Nick and buried her face in his neck, mumbled apologies against his skin. He felt like comfort and forgiveness.

"Shhh… Olive. It's okay. It is. Everything's fine."

She shook her head and tried to come up with the right words, tried to figure out how to apologize, but Nick kept shushing her. Her headache was making everything blurry and jagged at the same time and she felt like just lying down on the floor in the living room and sleeping forever. Nick was guiding her back to the bedroom before she realized they were moving.

Nick got her out of her bloody clothing and into a pair of shorts and one of his t-shirts, keeping contact with her skin the whole time. He was pushing calm to her, and shifted to the suggestion of sleep once she was on the bed. Olive grasped on to that and pulled it around her mind like a blanket.

*****

Peter pressed his back against the bathroom door, slid down until he was sitting and tried to decide if he was going to throw up. He thought maybe he should have hit the ground a little closer to the toilet because crawling was not going to work out so well right now. Actually, getting up off the floor was going to be difficult, and he considered sleeping there on the floor of their bathroom. His shoulder hurt like fuck and he'd left the pain meds in his backpack. He sighed and stared up at their medicine cabinet but couldn't quite come up with the energy to stand up.

He felt Nick outside the door before he knocked.

"Peter?"

He stared at the ugly yellow tiles behind their bathtub and wondered if Nick would go away if he didn't say anything.

"Come on, dude, you can't stay in there all night."

Peter rolled his head back and stared at the ceiling. "Yeah. Okay. Gimme a minute."

He struggled to his feet, clenching his teeth as pain stabbed through his shoulder.

Nick's voice was more urgent this time. "Peter?"

"I'm okay."

Nick's skepticism at the comment was nearly tangible. He didn't even need to say anything.

"Yeah. Okay, I'm not okay. There's pain killers in my backpack, can you get them for me?"

The door opened immediately and Nick peeked in, holding out a medicine bottle.

"Thanks." Peter popped two pills into his mouth and washed them down with a drink from the faucet.

"We have glasses, you know."

Peter licked his lips and nodded.

Nick's sigh was weary. He held out sweats. "Get changed."

Peter nodded again and waited until Nick retreated behind the door.

Nick was in the kitchen and Peter went right for the couch.

"Uh. No."

Peter clenched his jaw. "I'm sleeping here."

"No. You're not."

"Ni…"

"You are not sleeping on the damn couch after you've been shot for fuck's sake, Peter. Come to bed."

Nick headed down the hall.

Olive was curled up on one side of the bed and Peter stopped in the doorway, wanting to argue again, but he was so tired. Nick crawled into bed next to Olive and left half of the bed free for Peter.

"Bed. Now."

Peter curled onto his side, ignoring the pain in his shoulder, got as close to the edge of the bed as possible and clenched his eyes shut. The bed dipped behind him as Nick shifted. Nick brushed his fingers over Peter's back and Peter had been expecting it, forced himself to not flinch away. The calming rush from Nick was better than any drug, and Peter relaxed. He rolled onto his back, little green stars hovering before his eyes for a moment before he closed them, and slept.

*****

Peter was warm, snuggled in soft blankets that smelled of home and friends and safety. He was dimly aware that his shoulder was starting to ache but it wasn't bad enough to pull him fully awake. The events of the previous night played in disjointed bursts in his mind but they were distant and dreamlike. The noisy, guilt-ridden part of his mind called him an asshole, demanded to know why he kept hurting his friends. The quiet, dark part of his mind offered that they'd be better off without him and wasn't it too bad that the bullet only hit his shoulder. Some other part of his mind was running Olive's lips pressing against his over and over.

Olive grumbled in her sleep and clenched her hand in his shirt. His eyes snapped open and fixed on the ceiling, the little glow-in-the-dark stars there, and he swallowed hard. He eased himself out from under her, slowed by the pain in his shoulder and his desire to not wake her. There were stealthy sounds and smells of food coming from the kitchen. His stomach growled alarmingly.

Nick was standing at the counter, knife flicking though a strawberry. He was wearing ratty gray sweats and was rocking back and forth on his bare feet in time with his knife. He turned and ran his eyes over Peter.

"You look like crap, man."

"Thanks." Peter gnawed on his lip. "Nick, I'm sorry. It… I mean… we didn't…" He stuttered to a halt as Nick laid the knife on the cutting board and turned towards him, leaning against the counter. Peter forced himself to meet Nick's eyes. His voice was sleep-rough and he tried to push sorrow and apology across their connection when he spoke again. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again, I swear."

Nick made a pained face and scratched at the scar near his eye. "How long has it been since you took something for your shoulder?"

Peter shook his head, Nick's concern too much for him to deal with, too much for him to understand. His exhausted mind couldn't work out how Nick could be so calm when everything was so fucked up, when everything had changed.

Nick shrugged. "Nothing's changed."

Peter gaped at him.

Nick smiled, a lazy, teasing thing. "Nothing important anyway. You're still a dumbass."

Peter's forehead creased into a frown. "Hey."

Nick pushed off from the counter and Peter made himself not back away. He couldn't hold Nick's eyes though and stared at his feet as Nick crossed the little room. His heart was hammering and he half expected Nick to hit him but Nick wouldn't hurt him and Peter was shaking when Nick cupped one hand on either side of his face and murmured, "God, you're a moron."

Nick's lips were unexpectedly soft. Just unexpected, really, and Peter froze for a moment before the wash of emotion swept over him. Peter blinked because this was maybe something that shouldn't have been unexpected. Nick might be on to something with that moron thing.

A sound from the hallway startled him away from Nick. Olive was standing in the doorway, mouth slack with surprise. Nick held his arm out and she molded herself against his side.

Nick kissed her nose.

"We're not ignoring this anymore." He stretched an arm out and caught his hand behind Peter's neck and pulled him close, pulled him into the little triangular huddle that was so familiar, so comforting. Peter's shoulder bumped against Nick and he winced at the pain and then at the residual fear that spiked off of Nick and echoed between the three of them. "Inches, Peter. You could be dead, and I'm not waiting for the two of you to come to the obvious conclusion on your own because clearly you never will."

The torrent of emotion coming off of Nick was dizzying in its intensity. Peter wondered how he had missed it for so many years, how he hadn't noticed. Nick leaned over and kissed him again.

"Because you're an idiot."

Nick kissed Olive. "You're both idiots and I love you anyway. Sit down and eat your pancakes; we'll talk about this later."

*****

Peter winced as he moved, leaning into the corner reflexively as his stolen car power-slid on the screen. After two weeks he was out of the sling but healing was an infuriating process, far slower than he would have liked. He didn't heal as quickly as Nick and Olive, he never had. He rolled his shoulder experimentally and leaned back against the couch.

His eyes wandered towards the bedroom and his thoughts followed, brushing against the sleeping warmth of Nick and Olive's minds. Nick had threatened to haul the couch down to the curb if Peter tried sleeping on it again, but Peter still slipped out of bed before either of them woke up most mornings. That little bit of space kept him from feeling trapped. He had more things at their apartment than his own now, clothing tucked into the edges of their closet, stowed in a duffle bag under the bed. He hadn't even been to his apartment for anything longer than to grab something since Nick came home from medical. Being in their apartment was comforting. It felt like home in ways that his own apartment never did. He missed the garage a little, but he couldn't really work on anything with his shoulder injured.

He shrugged again and stood, went to the kitchen to start the coffee maker. They were settling into a routine, he and Olive happy to follow Nick's lead. They had watched Nick warily at first, waiting for Nick to spring the threatened "later" on them, but Nick was patient with them; years of waiting reinforced his natural tendencies. There was parity in his affection, subtle suggestions in his actions. They edged closer and closer, tiny negotiations towards the inevitable. Nick showed them, persistent in his demonstration of how things should be, and slowly that's how things were.

*****

Olive sighed and stretched, let her mind roam away from the data on her laptop to brush against Nick and Peter playing video games in the living room. The weeks since Peter had been shot had been stressful for her. Before when Peter crashed with them it was for a few days, a week at the most. Now, though, she was fairly certain it was a permanent arrangement. She was fairly certain she was happy about that, but Peter was still screwing up her daily routine. He was just always there, the proximity made more noticeable because Nick was guiding them towards each other, herding her and Peter into each other's space.

Olive flicked her eyes back to the screen, parsing the data quickly, separating the promising leads from the dead ends. She had holed up in the office to try and give herself some distance and had started digging through the ZFT databases at Nick's suggestion when she whined about having nothing to do. The databases were vast and she wasn't sure what she was looking for exactly, but the threads were there, she just had to follow them. She noted any advantage she could find, chinks in the armor of the organization, allies both within and without. She looked for the perfect opening, just like they'd been trained.

It felt strange to talk about it, to really acknowledge that they were doing. Their plan was still sketchy at best and the vagueness bothered her. She preferred straightforward assaults but was willing to acknowledge the wisdom in waiting even if she didn't like it. Peter was right, moving now, with no plan or support would only get them killed. Olive let impatience wash over her. Her lips twitched into a smile as Peter and Nick both ghosted the suggestion of restraint towards her. The giddy energy that built up at the thought of what they were doing was hard to resist, but Nick's calm and Peter's worry tempered her enthusiasm. They would wait until they were sure they could take down their masters successfully.

She pulled up another file and noted the soldier's ties to a pharmaceutical research firm in Montana. One of the threads she knew she was seeking was more information on the drug that had been used on Nick. She clenched her teeth against the fear and counted the blinking of the cursor. She tried to hold the fear back but it spilled over their link.

Peter got to her first and ran a hand over her hair before turning her chair so she was facing away from the computer. "Hey." He cupped her face and ran his thumb over her cheek.

She leaned into his touch, leaned against the warmth of his hand. Nick paused in the doorway, a little smile on his face despite the fear that circled between them. Olive met Peter's eyes and let herself relax.

"Enough work for tonight." Peter stepped back and pulled her to her feet.

She glanced over her shoulder at the computer.

"Come on." Peter tugged her towards the door.

Nick caught her other hand. He smiled, pulling her along after him as he walked backwards to the living room. "Peter's right." He flopped onto the couch and she tumbled after him. Peter curled against her side, and tucked between them, her fear melted away.

*****

The weather had turned miserable, trapping them in the apartment. Peter was peering through the blinds on the living room window, watching snow accumulate in the parking lot, trying to resist the urge to pace. He was bored with all the video games they had, and there was nothing on TV. He felt a prickling sensation between his shoulder blades, tiny hairs along his arms and at the back of his neck standing on end. He glanced over his shoulder, swept his eyes over the room behind him.

Peter was getting used to looking up to find hungry eyes on him and as often as not, it wasn't Olive. Depending on his mood his mind either skittered away from the implications of that or slammed adrenaline and lust through his system hard enough to make him dizzy. When the latter happened and he was too slow to snap the walls up to keep his thoughts to himself, Nick's grin was wicked.

Peter had, if he was willing to admit that he was keeping count, kissed Olive four times. Five if he counted the time when he was seventeen and he didn't because that was a lifetime ago. Two of those kisses resulted in Olive blushing hotly and retreating both mentally and physically. The last one still made her blush and Peter had felt the heat of her skin against his, but she didn't run. She pressed closer to him and darted the tip of her tongue out to touch his lower lip before she pulled away and watched him with an expression like she was trying to work out how to solve an equation that was being particularly stubborn.

He had kissed Nick twice, both the same morning, and really, Nick had kissed him and Peter had been a little stoned on pain medicine and groggy and confused so he wasn't sure either of those counted. He turned his back to the window and looked across the room.

Nick was standing in the kitchen, flipping through a magazine, one of the ones that Olive called food porn. He was wearing jeans that looked like they were at least three sizes too big, rode low on his hips and pooled in frayed folds around his bare feet. The waistband of his boxers was showing and the contrast between the black fabric and Nick's pale skin held Peter's eyes. When he raised his eyes Nick was watching him over the edge of the magazine.

Peter took the few steps needed to cross the tiny room and pushed the magazine out of the way before he lost his nerve. Nick stood perfectly still, perfectly blank until Peter's lips were on his. Relief seeped across their connection and Nick brought his arms up slowly, holding Peter but not trapping him. Nick smiled when Peter broke the kiss, and Peter smiled back, and they were both grinning at each other. Nick tightened his arms and pulled Peter against him and it felt good and right. Peter stood there hugging Nick in their tiny kitchen for a long time.

*****

"Jesus, Olivia, make him stop."

She was curled up on the couch, poring over intelligence reports, playing connect the dots with cases of a weaponized strain of measles. "Hmmm?" She didn't even look up from the stack of files in front of her. Peter waved one hand in between her face and the paperwork and was rewarded with a glare.

"Seriously? Can't you hear that?" He gestured towards the kitchen.

"What? Nick?" She dropped her eyes to the report again, flicking her fingers at Peter dismissively. "He's cooking."

Peter dropped both hands on top of his head and made a face of absolute terror at her. "No, he's singing."

She bit back the smile that was threatening her lips. "And…?"

"It sounds like he's torturing cats in there. Make him stop."

"You make him stop." She smirked at him.

"He doesn't fucking listen to me."

She sighed and pulled her glasses off, rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Leave him alone, Peter. Let him be happy."

He heard it even though she didn't say it. Let me be happy. He stood in front of her, dumbstruck for a moment, her cold fear pooling in his belly, the strain of holding Nick together, of holding herself together for him. Nick's joy fought with Olive's despair and Peter was caught in between them. He felt like crying, like marching to the ZFT compound and setting the place on fire, like taking them both and running away to where they'd never be found. He was trembling.

She looked up at him with bleak eyes and a wave of emotion washed out from the kitchen forcing a smile onto both of their faces. He crossed to the couch, pulled the papers from her nerveless fingers. She crawled onto his lap when he wrapped his arms around her, melted against him, her hands seeking his skin under his shirt. She rested with her head on his shoulder, breathing along his neck. He wondered if their masters had meant for them to be like this, their heightened emotions tied so inextricably to physical contact. Doubtful, he concluded, and tightened his arms around her, thankful for their mistake.

Nick was standing beside them and Peter hadn't heard him move. A puzzled look crossed his face, worry threatened to drive off his cheerfulness. Olive smiled and held her hand out to him. She and Peter forced their own emotions away from the surface, away from Nick. He leaned against Peter's side, drawing his bare feet up under him and she stroked his cheek, fingers just brushing the edge of his scar.

"What's wrong?"

He sounded so young to her, like when they were kids. She ruffled her fingers through his short, spiky hair. "Nothing. Finished cooking?"

"Uh… yeah. Well, it's in the oven. Olive…?"

She leaned across Peter's chest and kissed Nick, pushing away the worry. "Nothing's wrong." Whispered, brushed against his lips.

Peter's fingers tightened on her back and her eyes popped open, comically wide. Nick grinned into her mouth. She blushed, color staining her cheeks, but she didn't pull away. She pressed against Nick's mouth, deepening the kiss and when she stroked her tongue across his Peter drew in a sharp breath. When she turned to Peter it was deliberate, like she was torn between kissing him and bolting across the room. Peter heard himself make a little sound when her lips met his, something soft and content and maybe it wasn't just him but all of them.

Nick snuggled closer to them, grinning. "Finally, you guys. Finally."