#razzywill

“We should have waited , safety in numbers, all that nonsense,” Erasmus says as he wrings out his hair, “now we’ll be lucky to make it back to spell-girl and the boy before morning!”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Erasmus,” William says with a huff, “we wouldn’t have made it to the next –“

William is cut off suddenly as Erasmus crowds him against a stone wall, throwing a hand over the priest’s mouth.

“ Shut it, ” he whispers, “d’you hear that?”

William can hardly hear anything over the blood rushing to his ears, but he’s grateful Erasmus’s eyes are focused elsewhere, maybe he won’t notice the priest staring at his lips.  He shakes himself out of it and listens, and sure enough, the almost imperceptible shifting of metal. Soldiers well versed in their armor and weapons sneaking towards the church. The guard has caught up.

“We have to hide,” Erasmsus says, removing his hand and with it the air rushes out of William’s lungs.  “Gotta be somewhere in here.”

William looks over Erasmus’s shoulder, sees the little booth still standing near the pulpit.

“It would be a tight fit,” the priest swallows hard, worried about the close confines, “but the confessional is still intact.”

“No time to worry about that now,” Erasmus says, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him towards the tiny space, “they’ll be on us any second.”

They crowd into the tiny box, even tinier than the ones at the newer, statelier churches.  Erasmus pushes him to the bench as he closes the door behind them, and this is decidedly not a position William thought he’d be in today.  Frankly, he’s not sure his heart can take it.

There’s barely space for the two of them in the booth, and Erasmus is forced to stand with his knee braced on the bench between William’s thighs.  He looks anywhere but Erasmus’s face, terrified of what he might find there. And isn’t that silly? They’re friends, of course they are! This is nothing, it’s just two friends hiding from the inquisitorial guard in a tiny box that’s barely big enough for them.  Nothing weird about that at all.  

Nothing weird about how the only thing he can think about is the point of contact between his thigh and Erasmus’s knee.  He’s hyper-aware of it in a way he’s never been aware of anything before. His only solace in this is that it’s dark enough Erasmus can’t see the dusting of red that he knows is coming across his cheeks.  Or his neck. Or his ears. He feels dreadfully warm all of the sudden.

William risks a look at him, expecting judgement or terror or…well…he’s not exactly sure what he’s expecting.  But Erasmus isn’t even looking at him; he’s on high alert, listening to the guards draw closer. William has never told Erasmus how much he appreciates the man’s survival skills; he and the rest of them would’ve been dead several times over without him.  But it’s hard to think about things like that when Erasmus’s hand is pinned to the wall behind him and his arm so close it would be nothing to lean into it.

Oh, Lord forgive me, he thinks darting his eyes quickly upwards.

“Erasmus…um,” he starts, feeling like something should be said to break the awkwardness in this moment.  He’s stopped by a long and spindly finger against his lips.

“Shh…,” Erasmus says, tilting his head toward the door.  William hears the door creak open, here’s the scraping metal of the armor as the guardsmen move through the church.  The flicker from their torches seeping in through the cutouts in the confessional booth.

The firelight flickers in Erasmus’s eyes, making them look like molten amber.  William could get lost, if he’s not careful, in eyes like that. Like tarnished gold; still beautiful and gleaming despite everything they’ve been through.  He stays quiet, but Erasmus doesn’t move his finger. William could swear he sees something flicker in those eyes. Something he’s been seeing for far too long in his own, when he has the luxury of a mirror or when he catches himself in the reflection of water.  It’s a need. A want. A longing.

The footsteps draw closer, the light through the cutouts grows brighter.  There’s a hand on the doorknob of the box, William braces himself. They’ll be discovered and it’s all over.

“Hey!” one of the guards shouts from the doorway, and the knob rotates back to its original position, “We found some tracks heading north!  Boss wants us to follow those!”

“Right then, on with it,” the guard directly outside the confessional says as they hear his footsteps walking away.  Slowly, the firelight filters back out of the church as they leave, shrouding the two men in darkness once again.

William doesn’t move.  Neither does Erasmus. His knee is still firmly planted on the bench; arm still braced against the back wall behind William’s head.  His finger still lays gently against William’s lips.

Their faces are so close together.  William can smell the rain on his skin, along with the fire-ash that seems to follow wherever Erasmus goes.  In these close quarters, their breath mingles in the air, heavy with humidity from the rain.

His breath kindles coals, William thinks, blasphemy be damned, and a flame goes forth from his mouth.  

Erasmus smiles, a slow creeping thing spreading across his face, lighting it up like a sunrise.

“We did it,” he whispers, and William feels it more than hears it, “They’re gone.”  Erasmus heaves a great sigh of relief and William does, too.  Erasmus moves his finger and before William can be sad for the loss of contact, he drops his head and now, oh no, now their foreheads are touching.

William breathes in sharply at the contact, at the proximity, at everything.  Neither of them moves. There’s fear in Erasmus’s eyes William can see even in the dark.

“We should…probably get moving,” William stammers out, making no move to draw back, “they’ll find out we didn’t go that way soon enough, and they’ll be back.”

“Yeah,” Erasmus says, softer than William has ever heard him speak, “yeah, we probably should.”  His eyes search William’s, looking for something neither of them can put to words yet. William watches his face shift from fear to what looks like curiosity, and Erasmus moves his knee ever so slightly against his thigh.

The whimper that comes out of William is completely out of his control, Erasmus’s face breaks back into that crooked grin.

“What’s that about, priest?” he hisses like before, but there’s no bite to it this time.  All William can do is stare into his eyes, still in such close proximity. Erasmus drops his arm from the back wall entirely, bringing it around William’s neck, “don’t tell me you’re enjoying this?”

“Don’t,” William snaps, not wanting to confront whatever is happening, “Don’t…just don’t…”

“Sorry, must’ve misread that,” Erasmus says, reaching for the door handle and breaking the connection between their foreheads, unlooping his arm from William’s neck.  And that just won’t do. William’s hand reaches out to catch him by the collar, pulling him back.

“Let me finish, dear,” William says with more conviction than he’s had about anything in a long time, “Don’t do this if it doesn’t mean anything.”

Erasmus looks into his eyes, searching for something.  Searching for truth. Here in this confessional booth no one can see them, no one would know.  They could have this, this one moment in time. All he has to do is reach out and take it. His arm comes back around, hand resting in William’s soft curls and he leans back in and crowds him against the wall of the confessional booth.

Lead me not into temptation, William thinks as he winds his own arms around Erasmus’s back, closing this chasm that’s been separating them for what feels like ages.  

He closes his eyes and waits for that precious brushing of lips, but it never comes.

The door is flung open and almost off its hinges.  The two men jump apart, face to face with Julia.

“Are you two done? ” She asks angrily, “The fake tracks I laid won’t throw them off for long, we’ve got to get out of here!”

The two spare a passing glance at each other, moment lost and more than likely to be forgotten, before following Julia out of the church and collecting Joshua from his hiding place.

For the best, really.  No time for dalliance when you’re on the run.  He’d almost broken, and over what? Some close quarters and some dancing firelight.

William sighs to himself, more than a little disappointed, if he’s honest.  He’d almost slipped up; he’ll have to be more careful. These feelings, whatever they are, aren’t his to have.