A/N: I'm new to the Spartacus realm, but am compelled to write by what I have seen on the series of Agron and Nasir. This series starts in 2x05 and will continue (eventually) from there. I should probably have written it all out and posted as a complete series, but I'm a sucker for instant gratification and cannot resist posting pieces as soon as they're purged from my mind. There is no BETA and there will be slash. I hope you enjoy. :)

Chosen Path, by MissMishka

DISCLAIMER: The usual warnings, I claim no ownership of these characters, they are simply borrowed with love and adoration from the original creators to have their stories embellished on a little more than the show may do. Not for any profit.

The cot is soft and his body aches at leaving it, but his duty is not done until he has seen Naevia reunited permanently with Crixus. Nasir knows of the planning taking place as he lies about and senses the urgency in the temple as preparations are made for whatever plan to be set in motion.

Nasir stumbles from the bed and moves weakly along the corridors until he finds their voices.

He listens enough to the exchange between Naevia and Spartacus to glean an idea of the mission and leans briefly against the wall to fortify himself before he makes his presence known. It will not do for them to see him toddling weak as a babe among their mighty ranks.

With a deep, bracing breath he pushes from his support, holds tightly to his aching torso and stands as straight as the tightly drawn wound will allow.

"Where do we go?"

Spartacus exhibits no surprise at his presence, but there is one body among the gathering that tenses upon hearing his voice.


The German turns to verify with his eyes what his ears had heard and those bright blue orbs shine with delight at seeing him up from his sickbed.

Agron's smile is joyous as he approaches and Nasir has never known nor seen such simple emotion, without artifice or manipulation.

Touching was something that he was growing used to from this man; Agron seeming to be a very physical person in all regards. When he was happy he laughed and slapped your back in a friendly fashion. When the Viking was angry, he snarled and laid fist to whatever part of you that failed to get out of the way in time.

Nasir was not certain what this was, though, the way the man ran to him to cup his jaw and stroke his cheek.

It is a touch of care and concern; so gentle from a giant.

Nasir has never known the like of it. He has witnessed several gestures of affection among these people, an endless source of surprise when these were the supposed brutes of the world and bastards like his Dominus were the elite.

He knew not what to do with the rough hand that so gently held his cheek. Nor those bright eyes that met his with a want of emotion so much purer than the lustful depravity Nasir had grown used to as a slave.

"Give me a sword," he turns from that mesmorizing gaze to the sterner stare of Spartacus. "I will join you."

"I will have you rested a while longer," their leader decrees.

Before Nasir can decide if he is offended or relieved by the command a flex from the fingers upon his face makes him turn back to Agron.

The big man is bent over, putting himself at Nasir's level and emphasizing the gap in their heights with the well intentioned gesture. Those blue eyes stare piercingly into his own; those battle worn fingers toy with the strands of hair behind his ear.

"This time you stay and I go."

The words are gently chiding and Nasir cannot help but grin, thinking this another lesson his new friend wished him to learn about being a soldier. Something changes in Agron's eyes, though, as they catch sight of that grin.

A kiss was supposed to be a kiss all the same. The mechanics where just the pressing of one mouth to another; some crueler than others and drawing blood, but ultimately just a kiss. Nasir has thought himself to be well versed in kissing; skilled in it even. Yet a tingle begins in the lips graced by Agron's mouth and it spreads like fire through Nasir's body. Not an all consuming wildfire, just a slow burn that warmed him in places he had not known to be cold and dark.

Nasir has never kissed nor been kissed in such a manner before.

It is one of the briefest contacts he has ever known, but it has touched him more than any gesture of his life.

He knows not how to convey that or whether he even wants the man to know it.

"We must move."

Spartacus's command spares Nasir the need to do or say anything as Agron is forced to obey their leader.

There is a promise and a question in those eyes, though, as Agron pulls his hand away. As he watches the big man join the others and begin to depart, cold begins to seep back into Nasir at the loss of that touch.

He will have a choice to make when the German returns and the fact that it will be his choice is something Nasir was still coming to terms with. Joining the ranks of Spartacus's rebellion had not been an easy decision to reach, but Nasir felt no regret at it, no matter the pain of his injury from the Roman sword to his gut.

Much has happened in his brief time among these people. Changes have taken place in his world and within his person that Nasir never would have fathomed possible in his life. Options were presenting themselves to paths he must journey of his own judgement.

It is a daunting and fearful task for one who had been enslaved for so long. The collar had been removed, but he still felt the weight of it.

In the absence of Agron he would have to decide the path he would walk with that man. It would be left to Nasir to determine if theirs was to be a friendship, holding one another only as a fellow brother-in-arms or if they were to cross those bounds of friendship into more intimate ties.

The idea of more kisses the like of which he had just been left with was as luring as it was terrifying. Thoughts of Agron's hands upon his body had been haunting Nasir since the night the man had stormed into his life and Spartacus had flipped his world on end. He knew the mechanics of being mounted by another man; the stretch and burn of invasion of a recess not meant for such things, but the pleasure that could come of it, even with one a detested partner, was something of a marvel to him. Codpieces were always over exaggerated and he had yet to see the German naked so Nasir could not help but wonder at the size and strength of Agron's cock.

His want of that knowledge was without doubt. His want of more kisses and caresses from that man was without question in his mind.

Despite the pain of his injuries, the thoughts of such intimacy with Agron stirred Nasir to an arousal that would soon become visible if he were unable to gain control of his rampant thoughts. After that fleeting caress of lips that alluded to what a truer kiss could do, Nasir's body was certain that what it knew of fucking would be proven false in the German's bed. Mind and body were in agreement that they would welcome and enjoy Agron as a lover.

The only choice he struggled with was how to protect his heart as he sensed it falling into that trap called love.