Work Text:
The first thing Thomas noticed were his hands.
The conclave's sudden arrival, this previously unknown cardinal, was fast asleep, but his fingers were still wrapped around his rosary. His hands were callused and tanned, the skin around his fingernails fraying slightly. He held his rosary with a finger between two beads, as if he’d fallen asleep while praying. Not unusual for pious men, especially older ones, but…
Well, Vincent Benítez could hardly be called old. He looked no older than fifty, his hair barely gray only around the ears. His appearance was surprisingly tidy despite what must have been a long journey without showers or proper sleeping arrangements. Thomas understood why he had fallen asleep sitting up in this uncomfortable office chair.
He only had one bag with him, a worn leather satchel that had clearly seen better days. He held it on his lap, his hands holding the rosary draped over it. Thomas wondered sheepishly how long they’d kept the poor man waiting.
Aldo cleared his throat, and Thomas remembered why they had come. He put his hand gingerly on Cardinal Benítez’ shoulder. He tried not to startle him, but Benítez blinked awake quickly, sitting up straighter as he regained his bearings.
“Oh, I apologize for falling asleep, Eminences,” he said, his voice soft and accented. “I’ve been traveling for some time.” Thomas gave him a polite smile, taking the time to look into Benítez’ eyes. They were a deep, warm brown that Thomas found himself unable to look away from.
Vincent Benítez, made cardinal in pectore. How fascinating.
***
Some time after the conclave, after Pope Innocent XIV’s coronation, things had only slightly calmed down. Celebrations, paperwork and all the meetings the new Holy Father had to deal with had slowed somewhat, which meant that for the first time in a week, they could take a breath.
The paperwork they were going through now could wait another day or two, but since they had time, the Pope had asked his Dean to take a look with him, and explain some things. His Holiness was still unused to life in the Vatican, and had asked Thomas to stay on, at least for a little while. Thomas had acquiesced, reminding Pope Innocent that he still desired to join an order sometime in the near future.
Vincent, Thomas reminded himself. Vincent preferred to be called by his name, at least when they were alone. And they were alone, now. Thomas looked up at him, surprised to see him asleep in his desk chair, a pen still between his fingers. His head was nodding forward, dropping slightly every few seconds. Thomas moved to wake him instinctively, but stopped himself. The poor man was clearly exhausted.
It was funny, somehow, to see Vincent in white. So different from just two weeks ago when they met for the first time. Then again, much more than Vincent’s attire had changed over those two weeks. The entire world had changed with Vincent’s election. Thomas had changed.
I am what God made me. Vincent’s words still rattled around in Thomas’ head. He’d been shocked, at first. It took him a while to wrap his head around Vincent’s “situation.” But seeing him sleeping there, working as hard as he had for the past week, Thomas could only see a child of God in front of him. Vincent was radiant, perfect in God’s hands. Thomas admired him for quite some time before Vincent finally started awake.
“Oh dear,” he said, surprising Thomas, who’d been lost in thought. “Was I asleep long?”
Thomas cleared his throat. “Maybe a few minutes,” he said sheepishly. “I’d have woken you, but…well, you looked so tired.”
Vincent smiled gently. It was different from the warm smile he’d given when they first met. “I didn’t realize how exhausting this job would be,” he joked. “Well. Let’s continue.”
And they went back to work, Thomas feeling uplifted in the presence of His Holiness.
***
“I don’t want to be Pope.” Vincent’s voice had been quiet behind the screen of the confessional. “I want to be back with my own congregation. I want to be doing ministry, not paperwork. I hate being trapped here in Rome. I hate wearing white. I feel angry,” he trailed off, sensing Thomas' discomfort. “I won’t resign. But I can’t help but wonder why God chose me to do this. I can’t hear Him anymore.”
Thomas had assigned the Pope his penance and absolved him of his sins, but returning to his office, he had felt his heart thumping in his ears.
Now, a few days later, they sat in one of the Pope’s sitting rooms, watching a nature documentary. Vincent had been interested in the turtles and the monkeys, but now that the topic had turned to fish, he was fast asleep on the couch.
After the confession, he looked at Vincent differently. He didn’t fault Vincent for his complaints. He faulted himself for believing Vincent perfect and otherworldly. He was a man, just like the rest of them. He was Vincent before he was Innocent, and he was still Vincent underneath the cassock.
He blushed at that. It didn’t take much for him to admit he had thought about Vincent in less than professional ways. He thought that it had just been when he believed Vincent to be pure and innocent that he was having such thoughts, but now, seeing Vincent with his head lolled back on the couch, his mouth slightly open, snoring, he felt a surge of affection towards him. He was flawed, and he was beautiful.
***
Thomas woke disoriented. He had a moment of panic, not realizing where he was, before he turned to see Vincent lying next to him, fast asleep.
That’s right, he reminded himself. They were in the Pope’s bedroom in the Casa Santa Marta. They had been talking late into the night, about all kinds of holy and worldly things. Vincent had fallen asleep on the bed while they talked, and Thomas tucked him in. He had been exhausted too, and had taken a seat on the bed next to Vincent to read a bit more about the canon law they had agreed to revisit. He supposed he had fallen asleep too.
He chuckled to himself. He shared the Pope’s bed. How silly.
Thomas tried to get up gently, removing the book from between them, searching for his reading glasses that had fallen between the pillows. The bed was small, meant of course for only one person, so despite Thomas’ attempts not to wake him, Vincent woke.
“Good morning, Thomas,” he said sleepily. “Still here?” He sounded pleased to see Thomas.
“Still here, Vincent,” Thomas replied.
“Good,” Vincent hummed contentedly. “I like having you here.”
Thomas agreed. He couldn’t see himself leaving and joining an order now. Not when he had the opportunity to spend the rest of his life here, with Vincent. “I’ll be here,” he said simply. “But first, I think I should go brush my teeth.”
Vincent laughed. “Come back quickly,” he said, rolling over to face Thomas. “We still have much to discuss.”