Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author Notes: Contains spoilers for 2x06 and 2x07.

THE GAINING OF GIFTS

The smell of warming rose oil threw Nasir so hard back into his memories that his breath caught. His dominus had enjoyed the scent whenever he requested body slaves. Those nights, the air had always smelled sweet.

Knowing every little thing the dominus liked kept you safe. Nasir learned that quickly. He'd seen slaves thrown into sale for small mistakes, or punished, or worse. Whenever hisdominushad called for him, Nasir had reached for rose oil and candles. Sometimes he ended days with wax on his fingers as well as soreness in his body. He ended those days alive.

The need to please had been part of him for as long as his memories reached. It had kept him in high status with a single dominus, it had kept him breathing still. It was only now when he looked at Agron that he felt the urge to please out of heated stirrings inside, instead of hardened survival.

That was not all he gained at Agron's side.

Agron often kissed Nasir's cut and bruised knuckles, like he wished his lips could take away the pain. His touch made Nasir's heart skitter like nothing had before.

The gladiator tore Romans apart, but he was gentle as he unwound cloth from Nasir's middle to inspect still-healing injury. His scarred hands were like whispers, voice rumbling with distracting jests and loaded with care. Such care he showed no other in the camp.

Such care Nasir had never received before.

He turned towards it like grain towards sun. Now that he knew such tenderness, he was greedy for it.

Chadara's death sent shocked grief through Nasir's happiness. They had survived together, both favourites of their dominus, both staying safe by playing well to their master's desires. Chadara had found living free difficult, Nasir knew this, but he had not known what she planned. He should have.

Slaves could be freed, but their pasts and thoughts could not. It was a fight that Chadara had been unable to win.

It was a path that Nasir had almost taken. He had tried to kill Spartacus.

Nasir held Chadara's hand for long moments after she fell. He felt adrift, rocked by deep guilt. He had failed her, too wrapped up in his own new happiness. Perhaps if they had talked more, perhaps Chadara could have realised different choices. Nasir was aware of talk behind him, but heard nothing until the warmth of Agron's hand roused him. His gladiator said nothing but held him close. He knew loss. He would not fill the silence. Words were useless now.

Besides Agron, Nasir spent the most time with Naevia. She cared for his wound and he was often able to cause her to smile as the days past. He saw beauty in her as she moved, bits of the grace that had once drawn Roman attention. But she was wholly fractured now and the mend was slow.

Perhaps she saw the same in him.

The Germans filled the camp with talk and laughter. They lived loud and bold, even after Seddulus' death, and it lightened Nasir's heart to see Agron so happy amongst kin. They welcomed Nasir equally. That warmed him deeply. His kin were lost and Syria was a name, not a home, to him. This camp was more family than he'd ever known and he was glad to welcome the Germans into it.

He became friends with Saxa. The wild German trained with the men daily and found sport with German and Gaul alike. Her appetite for all things reminded Nasir of Agron.

They taught each other language, through deliberate gesture and name. Saxa caught on immediately – no matter what Crixus said, the Germans were not fools.

Saxa's laugh was rough as she pushed Nasir's shoulder and teased him in half-German half-common tongue. With a sharp smile, she taught him words that would heat Agron's blood. Words coarse and truthful, and words from the heart. Nasir learned them carefully and hoarded them behind his smile.

Nasir had not worn much as a body slave. He was to be displayed and enjoyed, why would he need clothing? It had been so since he was young. He was used to it. And for freed slaves, there were few places to acquire new cloth.

Sometimes he woke without Agron, his German already called by Spartacus for duties. Often Agron left clothing amongst the bedding. Nasir would bury his hands in it and breathe in the smell of his missing lover and smile at heated treasured memories.

Sometimes he wrapped himself in the clothing. It pleased and excited his senses to know that Agron had worn them before, that they were marked by Agron's sweat and smell, and that they were now against his skin. He marvelled that such moments were his.

Agron encouraged with heat in his eyes, and laughed that he would be unable to return the favour, so small were Nasir's clothes.

Nasir, wearing his lover's cloak, smirked, flipped them over, and declared an unexpected string of low German in Agron's ear that made the gladiator's breath short and eyes wide. It was Nasir's turn to laugh, just before Agron grabbed a handful of his hair with a growl and pulled him down to hungry mouth and eager hands. To receive freely was to be treasured, Nasir thought wildly as his body, mind, and heart burned and his lips spilled forth more of the Rhine's language. But to give greatly with joy in heart and know it was matched in return, that was untold happiness.

-the end