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How could this happen? Thomas prided himself greatly on his managerial skills, one might argue that without them someone else would have become Pope. He had stayed on as Dean because he assumed that these skills would be of use to the new Holy Father, that Vincent needed someone to help guide him through the politics of the Curia that he had been so far removed from.
A simple visit to another country has taken a toll on Thomas' abilities, it seems. After dealing with picking a proper hotel and security detail months in advance, setting up rooms for the Papal entourage, double checking every safety precaution to ensure Vincent's well being… He seems to have. Forgotten. To book a room for himself. A wave of shame passed through him as he realized this, standing at the front desk, bag in hand.
He sheepishly asked the woman if there was an open room, though this hotel was small. It was originally the reason he and Aldo had settled on it. There were no other guests at this time for Vincent's safety, of course. Thomas knew that in this small but luxurious hotel (not too luxurious, as he knew that Vincent would cringe at luxury) the other rooms were occupied by the rest of the Papal staff. Yet he still asked the woman if there was another room he didn’t know about that he may use? The woman, very apologetic and a bit frazzled, said that there were not any open rooms but she could bring an extra cot to any room he’d like. He looked up mournfully and thanked her for her time, and said he’d call down and let her know which room. His back already ached at the thought of sleeping on a cot. He supposes that this is his penance for his oversight. There was no time to mourn too much, as he soon had to make his way up to Vincent's room and brief him on the schedule for tomorrow.
-
“....After that, we will make our way back to the hotel for you to rest,” Thomas finished, leaning back in his chair, taking off his glasses, and folding the paper. He watched Vincent study the schedule, the fine lines on his face and exhaustion from traveling making his boyish face look older. Despite this, he looked so soft in his nightclothes. His hair was unkempt, zucchetto off, and it fell in front of his face. Thomas resisted the urge to reach over and rearrange it into something more neat. At Vincent's lack of response, Thomas felt the need to be reassured “If that is acceptable?” he asked, and though he knew it would mean more phone calls and emails, if there was anywhere else Vincent wanted to go all he had to do was ask. Thomas would faithfully and without complaint do whatever was asked of him.
“Of course, apologies” Vincent looked up from the schedule and smiled at Thomas “It has just been a long day, as you know. I’m sure you must be exhausted. Please, don’t let me keep you, we have a long day tomorrow and you must want to return to your room, no?”
Thomas' face must have given something away, a pained look when thinking about his ineptitude, to lead Vincent to question him.
“Is something wrong, my friend?” He asked, slightly tilting his head. To Thomas' sleep deprived brain it reminded him of a dog, cutely tilting its head in confusion.
“Nothing of import, such a slight oversight, but nothing serious,” He reassured him
“What is it?” He prodded again.
“I…” He trailed off, embarrassed at having to admit his failure to the Holy Father but unable to lie to the man “I seem to have forgotten to book a room for myself. I made sure everyone on the list had a room, but forgot to put myself on the list. Perhaps my age is catching up with me” He chuckled at this, trying to lighten his tone, but given Vincent's expression he wasn’t successful. He started gathering his papers into his bag, to give his hands something to do and make a quick escape from under Vincent's knowing gaze.
“Where are you staying tonight?” Vincent asked gently, as if trying not to spook a stray dog.
“The manager said that they could bring a cot into any room, so I planned on asking Aldo if I could room with him.” He said, sure that Aldo would have no complaint.
“A cot? No, that cannot be good for your back!” Vincent exclaimed, startling Thomas
“I assure you, my dear Vincent, it is alright. A night or two before I can make another arrangement won’t kill me” He said, trying to make his voice as reassuring as he could.
“Oh, no, Tomas, I cannot allow that,” Vincent said standing “You will stay here with me”
“You want me to have the cot brought to your room?”
“No!” He smiled and huffed, amused by the question “You will sleep in my bed, I will take the cot”
“Absolutely not.” Thomas shut this down, using the voice he once used with Sister Agnes during the conclave, leaving no room for argument. “I could not take your bed, you are the Pope!”
“Between the two of us, I am the one who is more used to sleeping in unconventional places, no?” He reasoned, as simple as explaining that the sky is blue. He stood up to grab the phone, but Thomas quickly reached out and grabbed his arm.
“Yes, but really, I could not allow my oversight to directly affect you. It is my mistake and I should be the one to deal with it, please.” He pleaded.
“Thomas, I could not sleep either way knowing that you are sleeping on a cot and I am sleeping on a bed fit for a king. Really, you must” He placed a hand over Thomas, and gently took his hand off his arm. Thomas grabbed his hand and shook his head furiously.
“Nor could I! The thought of my mistake causing you any pain at all, it's unbearable! Please, Vincent…” His mind was rushing to think of any way to convince the man, when he was interrupted by Vincent's small laugh and a smile.
“Well, it seems we are at an impasse” He explained “But perhaps there is a solution for both of us”
“Yes?” Thomas asked, his brain gone blank, desperate for an answer that would satisfy them both.
“We could share”
“Share?”
“The bed. We could share the bed” He nodded resolutely, as if this was a simple answer.
All of Thomas' blood rushed to his ears, for a moment he could not speak. He wondered if he was in a dream. It was not uncommon for him to dream about Vincent these days.
“You want me.. To.. to share the bed with you?” He asked lamely.
“This is a way for both of us to be happy, isn’t it? No one will have to sleep on the cot” He smiled
“I… Vincent… Though we are friends, truly you are dearest to me, you are still the Holy Father. I cannot… it's unfathomable..” He said, feeling like a broken record. We could share the bed , Vincent's voice kept repeating in his ears over and over again.
“Nonsense, please, stand my friend,” He helped raise Thomas from his chair, the man still with disbelief. He let himself be led to the bathroom connected to the room. He stood stock still as Vincent retrieved his bag and pushed it into his hand “Please, get ready for bed. We can talk more when you are done” he finished gently, closing the door. For some reason, Thomas did not think there would be any room for argument. He stared at the door in his face for what felt like eternity.
He went through his nightly routine robotically, staring ahead blankly. He felt dazed. He was going to share a bed with Vincent. The Pope. The Holy Father. His dear friend, the object of his affections. He couldn’t allow himself to think about it, if he did he would pass out and that would be horribly embarrassing.
He exited the bathroom, fresh and minty, in his night clothes. The lights were dim, and Vincent was in bed reading with the lamp on. Thomas was hit with a vision of another life, where he and Vincent weren’t who they are, and this was every night. Thomas could imagine every night, coming to bed with his dear husband and falling asleep in his embrace.
“Thomas?” He was jolted from his fantasy “Are you coming to bed?”
Thomas felt the blood rush to his face, as his thoughts raced.
Like a husband calling his wife to bed
, his thoughts whispered. He physically shook his head to dispel them. “Yes.. Yes, of course”
He made his way over to the unoccupied side of the bed, took off his slippers, and stiffly laid down next to Vincent. Vincent closed his book and turned the light off, turning over to look at Thomas as he settled back into bed.
“You do not have to be so tense, dear Thomas” He smiled, his voice soft with sleepiness.
“Right. Of course” He tried to untense, with some success. Vincent gave a soft chuckle at his attempt.
“"When you lie down, you will not be afraid; you will lie down and your sleep will be sweet."” Vincent quoted.
“... Proverbs 3:24” Thomas replied
“Yes,” Vincent said with a smile, his voice drifting off.
Thomas could see Vincent close his eyes and lay his head down on the pillow, his face soft in the moonlight. He looked like a painting, a statue… no, truly no work of art could compare to the man laying before him. No painter could ever capture the sweetness of his expression in a brush stroke, no sculptor could chisel the softness of his face onto stone. Thomas was struck with a sudden possessiveness, the idea of someone else seeing Vincent in such a vulnerable state… But then again, was he worthy of such a sight? It didn’t matter anymore. Vincent has answered his unasked question for him, and the answer was yes . He had given Thomas the greatest gift, the gift of seeing the man's breath soften as he laid on his side facing Thomas. He knew no other sight would ever bring him such joy. He almost didn’t want to fall asleep, trying to commit the scene in front of him to memory. Despite his efforts, Vincent's soothing words and presence was enough to lull him into a deep sleep.
-
There was a weight on his chest. Not of Thomas own making, like some mornings, when the weight of his responsibilities and failures were heavy on his chest. No, this was a physical and reassuring presence. He almost fell back asleep, but a soft shuffling and the removal of the weight caused him to stir. He didn’t open his eyes, but pressed his face back into the pillow to block out the light. This causes a soft laugh, almost a giggle, to be heard. And then it all came rushing back, his conversation with Vincent and sleeping in his bed! He stiffened with shame. He did not want to take his head out from the pillow, to let himself be seen.
“Thomas?” Vincent asked, sitting up on the bed “Are you awake?”
Thomas slowly lifted his head from the pillow, and stifled a yawn “Good morning, your Holiness”
“Good morning!” He responded, smiling and swinging his feet over the edge of the bed to stand up. He held his rosary in one hand, he must have woken up early and prayed it. He threw both of his arms in the air and fully stretched out. It reminded Thomas of a cat. His sleep ruffled hair and wrinkled clothing only made this image more endearing to Thomas. “Would you like to use the bathroom first, or shall I?”
“Please, you first, I insist” He answered, as if waking up together in the same bed was completely normal and Thomas wasn’t about to start freaking out.
“Thank you, Thomas,” He said, grabbing a small bag. As he made his way to the bathroom, he called out “That was not so bad, yes? No need for a cot,” He turned before closing the door “You can stay here the whole week, if you like” and closed the door, ending the conversation.
After a moment, Thomas gave in and buried his head back into the pillows. A whole week of seeing Vincent in such a way. How was he going to survive? And what would people say? Aldo would surely have a come apart if this got out.
His racing thoughts stopped as he heard the water turn on, and Vincent's soft hum under the stream. Well. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.