Barbarian (Jericho’s Boys #3)

7. Mal

Mal checked himself out in the mirror, turning this way and that, ensuring his makeup was flawless. As usual, he’d woken up with someone else’s voice rattling around in his head. This voice refused to wear Mal’s usual t-shirts and sweatpants. They wanted something pretty, feminine. Mal was quick to comply. It was an easy way to keep his headaches at bay. And Mal had learned long ago that fighting the voices had dire consequences.

Still, he had to work later and he couldn’t sacrifice comfort for style, not even to avoid the migraines and the screaming in his head. But Mal was a pro by now. He had outfits just for occasions like this. Before Shiloh had met Levi and fallen in love, Mal had been forced to buy his traditionally feminine clothes from the women’s department. Which was irritating. How could clothing have a gender?

But then Mal had met Felix.

Felix often used Mal as his real life dress form, pinning fabrics directly to his clothes to see how his designs fell on men as well as women. Felix was all about genderless fashion. Felix often gifted Mal his prototypes once the design went live. That had been great for his day-to-day clothes but it didn’t help when he had to work. Until Felix had gotten the idea to collaborate with his husband, Avi, to make a line of genderless fitness clothing. The FNMG line had not only created a stir on social media, it had garnered an endless supply of dance clothes that spoke to Mal regardless of who he was when he woke in the morning.

Today, he wore a pair of black wide-legged track pants that hung low on his narrow hips and a long sleeved black cropped hoodie with the Gemini logo emblazoned in hot pink that matched the thin stripe on the side of his pants. The hoodie would have required something beneath it had he had the breasts to fill it out, but since he didn’t, it fell to the bottom of his ribcage, leaving most of his abdomen on full display.

He leaned closer to the vanity mirror—set up beside their shared computer— gathering the top half of his hair and securing it with an elastic. He liked the way the tendrils framed his face. He’d gone light on the makeup; primer and heavy sweat made Mal’s face break out. Instead, he’d settled for painting his lips a pretty petal pink and ringing his eyes with brown shadow. Nico said it made him look feline.

He kept his small gold hoops in his ears but added an ear cuff shaped like a small scorpion to the top—the one Nico had bought for him while they’d been thrifting. He was always buying Mal little gifts. Mal cupped his hands around his face, studying his reflection. He looked pretty. Delicate, even.

Mal wasn’t normally this self-absorbed. He rarely paid attention to his looks, but, today, he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away. He stood, now staring at his reflection in the full-length mirror that hung on the back of their bedroom door. He turned sideways, skimming a hand over his belly, turning enough to get a look at his ass in the pants. They clung nicely before flaring out.

Nico loved Mal’s abs, even if he’d never admit it. He was always finding an excuse to run his hands over them as they laid together watching television. It always seemed strange to Mal how obsessed people were with looks. Big or small. Fat or thin. Muscular or soft. It was all the same to Mal. Maybe it was that he often felt like a passenger in his own body. It seemed strange to praise people for something that, more often than not, had more to do with genetics than fitness. Mal hadn’t earned this body with hours in the gym. It was simply a byproduct of a life spent doing what he loved. He’d carved out this body with hours of dance, but it wasn’t something he usually found attractive himself.

There was nothing feminine about Mal’s body. He wasn’t lithe like Felix. He wasn’t cherubic like Ever. He had narrow hips and washboard abs but he also had wide shoulders, muscular arms, and thick thighs. His features were more refined, more pretty than handsome. But Mal preferred someone like Nico.

Nico was radiant without even trying. His blue eyes were almost always bright, his curls bouncy. His arms were defined, but his tummy was soft. Nico ate like someone had let a hungry six-year-old loose in a convenience store with an unlimited budget. Mal loved pressing his face to his stomach, tracing his fingers over the white puckered scar that traversed his abdomen.

His gaze traveled to Nico in the mirror’s surface. He smiled to himself when he saw nothing more than a lump beneath the blankets and a tangle of golden hair peeking from the top. Mal’s heart thumped a little harder, last night's memories flooding back to him. Nico had cried so well for him. He’d given himself over so easily, begged so sweetly. Had let him push him right to the edge of his limits.

Nico was already his. Mal could see the younger boy’s resolve spider-webbing like a fractured mirror. No, an eggshell. Nico wasn’t strong, only stubborn. He clung passionately to this idiotic idea that relationships ruined things, like a little kid clung to a security blanket. Nico had trust issues, but more than anything, he was afraid to let himself be happy.

Every time he’d let his guard down in the past, someone had hurt him. Mal knew, deep down, that Nico knew Mal would never hurt him. But admitting that was too scary right now. But that was alright. Mal was patient.

He headed into the kitchen, snagging Nico’s pills and a bottle of water. Nico didn’t stir when he re-entered the bedroom or when he crawled over him, straddling his side. He tugged the covers from the boy’s face, smiling when he made a tiny little whimper and tried to burrow deeper into the pillow.

Mal’s pillow. His dick twitched as he watched the other boy inhale deeply, like Mal’s scent soothed him. It pushed at something deep inside, something primal. Feral, even. A voice that screamed Nico belonged to him.

Mal lifted his weight just enough to wrestle Nico onto his back, letting his eyes rove over his sleep-swollen face. This was his favorite Nico. Groggy, soft, flushed cheeks and swollen eyelids, lips a little chapped and drool drying on his chin. Maybe it was crazy, but Mal thought he was so fucking beautiful like this.

“Wakey wakey, Fidget,” Mal sang softly. “We have things to do.”

Nico gave another sad little sound, then mumbled, “No. Don’ wanna. Sleepy. And my butt hurts.”

Mal snickered even as his blood rushed south. He wanted to flip Nico over, to yank his pants down to see the evidence of their encounter last night. Were their bruises? Was his skin red and raw? Were there still fingerprint-shaped marks from Mal’s hand coming down over and over again? He bit back a groan, forcing himself to focus.

“Too bad, pretty boy. You have to take your meds and get in the shower. Jericho wants us to go talk to some people before our afternoon classes.”

“Don’ wanna take my meds,” Nico pouted. “Wanna sleep. ‘is warm. Pillow smells like you.”

Mal’s stomach clenched. That was the other thing he loved about morning Nico. He was unguarded—too sleepy to filter his thoughts—saying whatever popped into his head without worry.

Mal prodded at the boy’s puffy cheek, only getting another beleaguered little wail in return.

“I can make you take them, Fidget,” he warned, the threat evident underneath his teasing tone.

Nico finally blinked open bleary eyes, chest rising and falling faster, gaze hot as he scanned Mal’s face.

“Go ahead, then,” he said, voice sleep-soaked. “Make me.”

Mal dropped the water onto the bed beside them, setting the first pill on his tongue. He wrapped a hand around the back of Nico’s neck, pulling him into a half-sitting position even as he tugged his jaw open with his other thumb. He swept his tongue inside, and Nico sucked on it greedily, dry swallowing the pill. He took the second just as easily. He was such a good boy for him.

Mal let him fall back onto the pillow as Nico stared up at him with those wide eyes Mal could never resist. “Need water.”

Mal grabbed the bottle, cracking it open. He was about to hand it to him when something made him stop.

“Open up, Fidget.”

Nico’s lips parted at the command. Mal took a swig, then settled on top of Nico, trapping him within the covers. Nico looked almost shy as Mal closed the distance between them, letting the water spill from his mouth into Nico’s.

“Swallow.”

Nico gulped it down audibly.

“My pretty baby is such a good listener,” Mal praised.

Nico’s pupils dilated, a tiny puff of air escaping as if against his will. “Am I?”

“Mm,” Mal assured him, his gaze roaming his face. “So good for me.”

It wasn’t the most imaginative dirty talk. But it was definitely having the right effect on the boy trapped beneath him. Mal dropped to his forearms, dipping his head. He kissed Nico’s top lip, then his bottom, then swept his tongue along the seam of his lips.

Nico opened for him, sighing into his mouth, his tongue sliding soft and wet against Mal’s. There was no intent behind the kiss. They just laid there, lazily exploring each other’s mouths, the only sound their quiet breaths and the smacking of their lips each time they parted.

Nico began to wiggle beneath him, working his arms free. His fingers knotted in Mal’s hair, pulling him against him harder, whimpering into his mouth. This kiss shot lightning through Mal’s blood. He wanted nothing more than to keep going, to strip Nico naked and take him apart. But there was no time for that. They had responsibilities.

When Mal pulled back, Nico chased his lips.

Mal pressed a finger against the boy’s lips, earning a frown and a huffy look. “Uh-uh. Up.”

“Nooo,” Nico cried. “It was just getting good.”

Mal chuckled softly. “Sorry, Fidget. Jericho wants us and it’s already ten-thirty. We both have classes this afternoon. You want me to call Jericho and tell him we can’t question someone for him because my Fidget is too horny to function?”

Nico blew a breath out through his nose. “Maybe,” he grumped.

Mal snickered. “Don’t make me drag you out of bed. I don’t think your ass could handle another punishment. But the choice is yours.”

Nico’s mouth fell open, the gears in his head churning as he clearly contemplated refusing Mal’s order.

Finally, he cupped Mal’s face, expression soft as he said, “You look really pretty today.”

Something swooped in Mal’s core. “Do I not look pretty every day?”

“No,” Nico said, his fingertips trailing over Mal’s cheekbones. “Usually, you’re hot. Today, you’re pretty.”

“You’re pretty, too,” Mal promised, kissing his forehead.

“Prove it,” Nico murmured, attempting to drag him back down into another kiss.

“Uh-uh,” Mal said, placing his palm over Nico’s lips. “Get your ass in the shower, you little succubus.”

Nico frowned. “I thought boy sex demons were called incubus?”

“I heard it’s less about gender and more about whoever tops,” Mal told him, sitting up to straddle his hips once more, grinding down on Nico’s morning wood through the thin comforter just to hear him groan, his eyes rolling in pleasure.

Nico’s hands flew to Mal’s hips, holding him still, expression growing sulky once more as he asked, “Are you saying you don’t think I could top you?”

Nico really was a whole-ass baby in the mornings. Mal gave him a soft smile, running two fingers over his swollen lips. “I’m definitely not saying that, Fidget. If you think I’m going the rest of my life without another prostate orgasm, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Nico groaned again, his hips bucking up of their own accord. “You’d really let me fuck you?” he asked, sounding breathless.

Mal giggled, planting his hands on either side of Nico’s head, circling his hips over Nico’s until the other boy whimpered. “Let you? Fidget, I’ll tie you to the bed and ride you until you’re sobbing and begging me to let you come.”

Nico’s eyelids fluttered. “You really like seeing me cry,” he finally managed, sounding mystified.

Mal dropped to press his lips to Nico’s ear. “I fucking love it. Seeing you cry makes my dick hard. I jerk off to thoughts of you covered in tears and drool while you fall apart beneath me. You have no idea how pretty you look when all your walls are torn down. I can’t wait to hear you beg. Fuck.” He bit the shell of his ear. “I want to hear you scream, Fidget.”

Nico’s chest was heaving, his lips parted as he stared up at Mal like he had no idea who he was. He suddenly shook his head, blinking like he was coming out of a stupor. “You sound like a lunatic.”

Mal patted his cheek, then hopped off the other boy. “Oh, Fidget. I am a lunatic. You know that.” He ripped the covers off Nico then and physically dragged him to his feet. “Go. Shower. Now. I’ll make you some coffee…to go.”

Mal and Nico made it to the Pearl River District by quarter after eleven. As always, Nico’s head was on a swivel the moment they stepped off the bus. He was like this every time they came there. Nico’s ADHD loved the brightly-colored awnings, the paper lanterns strung between alleys. Even the clothing blowing in the breeze that hung on lines between the apartment buildings.

The district was predominantly made up of Chinese families, mostly immigrants, just like their neighborhood. While their neighborhood was a mix of Chinese and Mexican families, the Pearl River district was a blend of Chinese and Vietnamese families.

They exited the bus at their usual stop outside the coin laundry with its bright blue awning. It was on the same row as a chiropractor and an acupuncturist. The sweet smell of baked goods combined with the savory scent of fried noodles made Mal’s stomach growl. They had some of the best restaurants in the city.

They didn’t get to the district as often as they liked. They could only go during the week. Mal couldn’t handle the crush of the crowds during the weekend. The sights, the sounds, being knocked around by people was all too much for him. Between work and school, there wasn’t a lot of free time during the week.

Still, on the rare occasion they did have time, they had killed entire days walking around the streets, stuffing their faces with delicious food and sifting through the stalls of the market looking for any items within their budget. During the weekdays, the district seemed almost magical, like someone had dropped a fantasy right in the center of their mediocre city. It reminded him a little of the markets in Paladin . Merchants haggling over prices, loudly beckoning the people to check out their wares in a mix of Mandarin, Cantonese, Hokkien, and English.

The vendors at the market were far more pushy than those in the shops. Much of the market was made up of wholesalers. Those vendors were there to make money and the buyers were there to save it. It often led to some heated and fascinating arguments.

Sometimes, when they came with Felix, he would translate some bit of local gossip he found particularly juicy. But most often, Felix shopped for silks while Mal escorted Nico as he ate his way around the different Asian cuisines like he was at Epcot. Nico loved food. And not just the restaurants. Despite the heavily Chinese influence on the cuisine, there was a shop that carried convenience store foods from Korea and Japan. It was Nico’s favorite place, and once inside, it was almost impossible to tear him away.

Mal shouldn’t have been surprised when Nico gave him his biggest, widest blue eyes and prettiest pout, then begged him to take him to the dumpling place. They had been there with Felix on their last trip—a cute little restaurant nestled in a courtyard between a wholesale flower shop and an herbalist. Mal nodded. He was also hungry, but they both knew he wouldn’t have refused him either way.

Stepping into the little shop was instant relief for Mal, who removed the ear plugs he wore to dampen the sounds around him. No matter where he went or how many people there were, he was rarely able to tolerate the sounds around him without help. Lights and sounds were always so sharp, too painful to tolerate without something to dull them.

But inside the little restaurant was warm, a little steamy, the scent of steamed dumplings permeating the air and making Mal’s stomach growl loudly. Nico laughed, patting his flat belly.

The dumplings were made in wicker steamer baskets so Mal didn’t have to worry about the clatter of pots and pans, and the woman behind the counter appeared to be the only one working so there was no need to shout orders to the back. It was peaceful. Nico leaned heavily against him, back to chest, a contented smile on his face.

When they left the restaurant, Mal had stupidly assumed Nico’s ten dumplings would have been enough to fill him up and keep him on target. But they hadn’t taken ten steps before Nico hooked his arm through Mal’s, pulling him into the bakery. He just shook his head, arms crossed as he watched Nico shop.

The counter girl bagged each pastry with wide eyes as Nico pointed out item after item. When she read out the total, Nico gave Mal the look—the one that had him reaching for his wallet without thought.

Nico practically skipped down the sidewalk as they walked to the market, excitedly chatting about his newly acquired red bean buns and moon cakes, quieting only long enough to take a bite of the egg tart in his hand. His second egg tart.

“You’re going to be so sick later,” Mal admonished, trying—and failing—to scowl at the boy.

“How dare you,” Nico said around a huge mouthful.

Mal snorted. “You always eat too much right before school, then text me about how your stomach hurts all through class.”

Nico stuck his tongue out, making a face at him. “That’s not the food, it’s the learning. Knowledge impairs my digestion.”

He stuffed the rest of the tart into his mouth, chewing obnoxiously. Mal rolled his eyes but couldn’t fight the smile playing at his lips. It was impossible to lecture Nico when he looked so cute. When Mal didn’t say anything more, Nico turned to walk backwards for a few steps, studying his expression, as if making sure he wasn’t angry. When he seemed satisfied, he spun to face forward once more, then fell into step beside him. A memory hit Mal then—the two of them walking through the tunnels together on the day they met.

Whenever Mal mentioned Nico’s cute side—the shy, silly boy who preferred to be babied and cared for—the other boys all looked at him like he was crazy. They would exchange knowing glances, like they wanted to tease him but were too afraid he might snap. Shiloh and Levi were the only ones who were brave enough to finally explain that Nico didn’t act like that in front of anyone else…just Mal. That he acted like that to get his way.

They’d said it like they were worried, like Mal might snap or be angry, holding it against Nico for ‘using him.’ But Mal wasn’t mad. He was happy Nico trusted only him to care for him in that way. Nico was smart. He had the survival instincts of a street kid. For all intents and purposes, he was a street kid. He’d had a mother and a roof over his head, but she’d spent her days sleeping and her nights doing sex work.

Nico rarely talked about it, but, over time, Mal had gleaned certain details. From the time he was a toddler, Nico’s mother had trekked dozens of strange men into their home, leaving him in their care while she worked. Some were okay. Others had neglected him horribly, abusing him mentally, physically, sexually, and emotionally.

Each time, his mother would make excuses, only breaking up with the man when they finally wronged her in some way, never mind what they’d done to her baby. Mal was convinced that Nico’s gratitude towards his mother had nothing to do with love and everything to do with her finally ending the parade of losers she’d brought into his life.

Did Nico manipulate Mal to get what he desired? Sure. Did Mal let him? Yes. Nico liked to show off how whipped Mal was for him. But it was hardly breaking news.

Their friend group knew Mal was just as bad as Nico. Hell, he was worse. While it was news to Nico that Mal had been quietly controlling his life, the others had seen it very clearly. Nico was his. Only his. And woe betide the creature who tried to take him from him. Luckily for them, nobody within their group had any interest in Nico. It clearly showed a lack of brain cells on their part as far as Mal was concerned.

Mal had admitted to Levi and Shiloh that Nico could do whatever he wanted to him. Levi had told Mal that he was an idiot and a simp and that the two of them deserved each other. Mal didn’t deserve Nico, but he’d take him. Hell, he’d already taken him. Nico was his. The boy might be manipulating Mal, but Mal had used it to his advantage, slowly taking over Nico’s life so he could finally have some peace.

That was why they were made for each other.

He just had to convince Nico of that.

“What are you thinking about?” Nico finally asked, expression concerned.

“What?” Mal said reflexively, waiting for his brain to catch up. “Oh, nothing. Just that we don’t know where Casey’s mom’s stall is.”

“We could ask Annie?” Nico said.

Mal frowned. “Annie?”

“The little old lady who sells Felix the silk.”

They found the stall after a few wrong turns. Nico recognized the woman immediately. She stood behind the table and was barely five feet tall but sturdy. She wore all black and had thick framed glasses on, her deep chestnut hair cut in a severe chin-length bob that made her look a little like a cartoon character.

Her shrewd gaze had Nico shrinking away from her.

“Who are you?” she said by way of greeting, her words chopped, like she didn’t have time to draw them out. Before they could answer, she narrowed her eyes, expression hostile and tone accusatory. “You look familiar.”

When Nico refused to speak, Mal sighed. “Yes, ma’am. We’ve been here before with our friend, Felix. He buys fabric from you often.”

“Oh, yes. The pretty, rich boy with the glossy hair and blemish-free skin.” She glowered at Mal. “You’re pretty, too. You didn’t look like this”—she gestured to Mal’s…everything—“when you were here last. I would remember.”

Nico bit back a smile, watching the two interact.

Mal just shrugged. “I like to mix it up.”

She gave a curt nod. “My grandson, too. Silk and lace, frilly things. You’re all too pretty for boys. How are the girls going to find husbands when boys look like this?” she chastised.

Nico grinned. “The boys we like aren’t looking for girls.”

She tilted her head, studying him for a moment. “Why are you here? Clearly, you’re not in fashion.”

“Ouch,” Nico muttered, looking down at his—Mal’s—red hoodie and jeans. He looked beautiful in red. This lady clearly had no taste.

Nico and Mal had a staring contest as they battled to see who would explain the situation. The problem with two neurodivergent friends was, sometimes, it was impossible to find someone willing to do the talking. Mal gave Nico a sharp look, gesturing with his head towards the woman. Nico countered with puppy eyes.

Mal sighed, caving immediately. No matter who Mal was when he woke up in the morning, he could never resist Nico.

“Actually,” Mal said. “We’re trying to locate someone who sells here in the market. Her daughter is in one of my dance classes. We haven’t been able to contact them in a few days.”

Nico nodded. “We thought we’d stop by and check on her.” When her gaze dropped to Nico’s bakery bag, he tried to make himself small.

She huffed out something akin to a laugh. “What’s her name?”

“Ko Xīn yí,” Mal said, grateful Jericho had thought to ask Casey. “Sometimes, she goes by Amy.”

The woman shook her head. “Don’t know her. What does she sell?”

“Handbags,” Mal said. “Handmade leather handbags. She sells them to boutique shops.”

There was no missing the change in her already chilly demeanor. She scanned the narrow walkways of the market like she was looking for something…or someone. Her unease made Nico shift restlessly beside him.

Finally, she said, “Leather goods are at the back of the market. Two lanes over, then walk right until you find what you’re looking for. That’s all I know.”

With that, she turned her back on them and busied herself folding the materials on the table.

Mal and Nico exchanged looks.

“Thank you,” Nico said before softly adding, “I guess.”

They followed her instructions, ending at the very back of the market just as she’d said. The scent of leather almost knocked Mal backwards. There were several stalls selling everything from belts to handbags. But unlike the boisterous sellers at the front of the market, these vendors seemed more guarded. Subdued. Nico looked at Mal who nodded, letting him know he saw it, too.

“Hey, didn’t Casey say her mom was being forced to make knock-off bags?” Nico whispered.

“Mm,” Mal said.

Nico pointed to a stall two down from where they stood. A young woman of about twenty stood behind the table, her long black hair pulled back in a ponytail. When they came to stand before her, it was like someone flipped a switch, bringing her to life. A smile spread across her face, her deep brown eyes lighting up. “Hi, can I help you find something?” she asked. “We have a number of styles that would be just right for you.”

“Are these real?” Nico asked, running his finger along the stitching of a knock-off YSL bag that looked like the real deal.

“No, but it’s impossible to tell,” she assured him. “Our manufacturer pays amazing attention to every detail and our labels come from the actual designers’ warehouses. Even the retailer themselves would have a hard time telling the difference.”

How did that work? Did the designers know their labels were walking out the back door?

Nico stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Isn’t this Amy’s stall?”

The girl’s smile faltered, her breath catching, but she quickly recovered. “Mm,” she said. “Were you working with her before? She’s on vacation. I’m covering until she returns.”

Mal frowned. “On vacation? Who told you that?”

“Um—I—Well…” She let her words die, her gaze tugging towards the two men sitting on a bunch of pallets just past the last stall.

Mal and Nico hadn’t noticed them until just then. They wore jeans and t-shirts, both wearing open button-down shirts like a uniform. They were likely armed, hiding a weapon beneath their shirts.

Tattoos spilled down their arms all the way to their fingers. One had a beer gut and hair so dark it looked inky black. The other was lanky, long legs crossed at the ankles. They were both on their phones, facing towards them but not paying them any attention.

Triad?

“We went to her apartment. Someone had busted in her door,” Nico said quietly. “We’re just worried.”

The girl startled, her finger rising to her lips reflexively, giving them a barely-there shake of her head, then looking pointedly at the women on either side of her, both suddenly very interested in Mal and Nico.

“Do you have business cards?” Mal asked at normal volume. “We didn’t come planning on buying anything today, but we’ll come back another day. Will you still be here?”

“Sure. Seven days a week.”

“It would be good to get your contact information,” Nico said.

“Oh—Oh, um, sure.” She took a generic-looking business card from out of a small holder that looked like it hadn’t been touched in years. Maybe ever. She took a pen and jotted something down on it. “I’m Lisa. Feel free to stop by anytime. We’re here until nine PM every night.”

“Excellent,” Mal said. “Thanks, Lisa.”

“Anytime.”

They perused some of the other shops so they didn’t look too suspicious, then made their way out of the market. Nico checked the time, letting Mal know their bus wouldn’t be there for ten minutes. Neither spoke as they waited, though Nico returned to his most comfortable place, his back to Mal’s chest.

Only when they were finally on the bus, in seats at the very back, did they actually speak. Nico side-eyed the man across the aisle from them. Mal’s gaze followed. He wore a trench coat but his legs were bare, his forehead resting on the chair in front of him. There were questions to be asked, but on public transportation, they minded their own business.

“Those guys were triad, right? The two men on the pallets?” Nico asked in a hushed whisper.

Mal shrugged. “I mean, there’s no real way to tell. Whoever they were, she sure seemed afraid of them.”

Nico dropped his head to Mal’s shoulder. “What do we do now?”

Mal fished the card out of his pocket, hoping to find a cell phone number. Instead, he found a scrawled message. Just three words and the time.

Blue Velvet Diner 10:00 PM

Nico lifted his head, looking at Mal with wide eyes. “Blue Velvet Diner? Never heard of it. Where is it?”

Mal googled it quickly. “Melville.”

Nico frowned. “That’s like forty-five minutes from here.”

“She must be too scared to meet locally,” Mal said.

“So, we’re going, right?” Nico asked.

“We have to clear it with Jericho first and borrow a car, but yeah. It’s not like we have much else to go on.”

“Can you even drive?” Nico asked, narrowing his eyes at him.

“Can you?” Mal countered, pinching his nose.

“I can…” Nico hedged. “But some people prefer I don’t.”

Mal barked out a laugh. The man across the aisle lifted his head to glare at him.

“Do those people wear uniforms and carry badges and guns?” Mal teased.

“No,” Nico said, indignant. “I just get…easily distracted.”

Mal gave him a soft look. “It’s okay, Fidget. I can drive.”