"You can still leave at any time," Aaren assures, getting to his feet. "Just. I'd feel better knowing you're both in good health."

And he leaves the kitchen.

Zev’s heard Nova make that sound. He made it last night when Zev moved away from him. Is he-

Is he trying to ask for comfort? 

Heart in his throat, he tucks his hand in Nova’s tighter, and slides closer to him. 

Nova relaxes a tiny bit. Zev isn't going to leave him, Zev's staying, that's good. "Thank you."

“I don’t want to let go. I thought...I thought it’d be better if I did.”

He shifts closer again. "I- it's- nice. Doesn't- hurt."

“Doesn’t hurt?” Zev’s leg is pressed against Nova’s. It’s the closest they’ve sat in...months. The effect is dizzying. It’s addictive. 

For a moment he is desperate for more. 

He nods. "I- Everything. Before. And you don't. And I- I- like it."

“You-” Zev’s breath leaves in one, huge rush. Months of keeping his distance, all so he doesn’t hurt Nova, traumatise him and...

Zev’s smile is bigger than he can remember it being in a long time. He knows he looks dopey. He...he’s making things better. Maybe not fixing anything, and he still doesn’t feel like he deserves it, but...

He’ll take what he can get. 

Nova smiles back. He hopes this means Zev will touch him now. He likes it.

"...are we staying?" he asks after a moment, and he needs Zev to make this decision. He's barely had to make decisions before this.

“I am curious about this healer. Maybe they can fix my shoulder,” Zevran says, rubbing the old wound absent-mindedly. 

Nova looks away, guilty, because if they hadn't run, if Zev hadn't decided he was worth...something, Zev wouldn't have been hurt. He doesn't move away.

"O-okay."

Zev sees his guilty look, and finds himself matching it. He doesn’t want Nova to blame himself. “I’d rather take one bullet to the shoulder than leave you. Mierda, I’d take a bullet to every inch of skin I have to keep you out of that place.”

He touches the tattoo on his own face, looking at the matching one on Nova’s. He reaches out and gently touches it. He hates it. 

He takes his hand from Nova’s face, but keeps the others entwined. “Let’s go find out about these “crappy cartoons”, yes?”

"O-okay," he agrees.

They'll find 'Chelle in the living room, curled up in a chair, watching Scooby Doo.

“That dog is unreasonably large.”

"He also speaks. And he is a great dane. They're massive."

“...speaking dog. I suddenly do not feel bad for missing out on television.”

It feels kind of like holding out an olive branch to the girl who has taken care of them. 

"Mystery-solving talking dog. Sit down and be delighted," she says. And it's an order, in a way, as she points imperiously at the sofa, but her smile takes away any seriousness, and her eyes are twinkling and warm.

Zev regards her for a moment, and then swings the backpack off, placing it in arm’s reach, before leading Nova to the sofa and sitting down. He keeps their hands together, but tries to keep a slight bit of distance between their bodies. 

For propriety’s sake, he tells himself. 

Scooby Doo plays, and the monster is unmasked, and 'Chelle occasionally narrates something, explains something.

Nova shuffles slightly closer to Zev, wanting to be pressed against his side again.

Zev keeps up a running dry commentary, clearly unimpressed by daytime cartoons. It’s almost...easy. Like getting a glimpse into a life that could be his own.

He notices Nova’s timid shuffle, and can’t help a smile. He should’ve realised this months ago. He moves closer to Nova, almost non-chalantly, until they are pressed together shoulder to foot. 

Nova, very hesitantly, rests his head on Zev's shoulder.