All I Want is You

by tricycle_rat

Summary:

You meet an endearingly awkward but oddly charming Cardinal in your first few months at the Ministry and find both you and him have taken a great fondness for each other. You and he, as you grow closer and inevitably grow to become more than friends, work through the ups and downs of the process of him becoming Papa and what entails following it.

Notes:

When I say this is a slow burn, I mean it.

Apologies for any errors, I do try and edit for corrections excessively but things slip up.

Note: It is generally mentioned within future chapters, but the point in time this begins is some time before Terzo is taken off stage, meaning he is still the current Papa.

Chapter 1: Lost in the Corridors

It’d been some months since you started working in the Ministry. You were fairly acquainted with your duties and daily tasks working in the archives by now but were about half as familiar with knowing your way around the abbey. From the outside, the grounds were seemingly comprehendible in size, but once inside, the building appeared to morph and grow. The corridors lengthened and twisted, the ceilings stretched to the sky- even the rooms spanned further into the horizon. The apparent metamorphosing nature of the imposing structures only added to the already intimidating air of the place, which had caused you to shrink back in nervousness the first time you were led through the abbey.

A fair amount of those who helped you become affiliated with the Ministry were friendly enough- to your utmost relief- which had helped with acclimating to your new environment. Though per the advice from the Sibling of Sin that led you around the grounds, there were some members and ghouls that could be more on the “moodier side of things” and were best left alone unless necessary- the warning nowhere near helping your confidence in making any friends. 

Safe to say, finding your way around the place was a nightmare and you had no real means of asking for help that wouldn’t ultimately risk causing your untimely demise- or desire for it, if you were to be publicly chewed out in front of your new peers, that is.

The nightmare became the forefront of your problems one day in particular: you had been asked by your supervisor to take documents of interest to the office of Sister Imperator. Why they had asked you of all people, instead of going to another, more qualified Sibling in the archives to do the delivery was beyond you. Your best hunch was that they wanted to test your ability to complete tasks deemed “more important” as you were still decently new, and it seemed to be a habit of the supervisors to do such tests. So now,  you found yourself trekking the halls with decent speed, hoping to recall the brief directions given to you when you were handed the documents as you made your way further into the belly of the abbey. 

It was probably on your fourth turn down an unfamiliar corridor that a nervous panic began to well up inside your chest, the realization that you were lost and had little clue where to go quickly becoming a reality rather than an anxious fear. Retracing your steps to the last place you had your directional bearings was an idea that came to mind, but you ultimately discarded it, feeling you would likely end up in a similar (yet different) lost position. Ultimately, you resigned yourself to asking the next person that crossed your path for directions, no matter who it was.

You paced between the corridor you found yourself in and the few adjacent to it as you looked for help. The sound of your footsteps were muffled by intricately patterned runner carpets that spanned almost the whole length of the floor. The sconces affixed to the wall caught your eye on occasion as you passed by, their ornate embellishments of curved metal glowing with the muted, golden light that bathed the deceptively long space. Much to your dismay, besides your footfalls, all you could hear was the slight electric buzz emanating from the lights, nothing else. There was an unfortunate lack of signs indicating the presence of anyone that could come to your aid.

For a place that was usually well-populated with various groups roaming the grounds, the corridors you found yourself in were shockingly empty. Minutes that felt like hours passed as you continued your search, wondering where the hell other members of the Ministry were. 

Out of what felt like sheer luck as you continued to pace through the halls, you caught a glimpse of a black-robed figure briskly passing by the opposite end of the corridor you chose to walk down through. Taking the only opportunity you had been offered this entire endeavor, you raced after it, your gate bordering on a jog (since the last thing you wanted to happen was to be caught and reprimanded for running down the hall while also failing your assigned task). You skidded around the next corridor bend, the black-robbed figure finally coming into your line of sight, and continued your fast pace, gaining ground on the person. They appeared to be wearing a black cassock, the finned hat sitting atop their head being the best indication of their higher status. A pang of anxiety shot into the pit of your stomach. 

Dear Satanas, please let them not be mad at me for stopping them for something so stupid as directions , you thought, but it wasn’t like you had any other choice though. Closing in on the space between you two, you called out to them, hoping it’d get them to slow their own hurried pace for a second.

“E-excuse me? Sorry but-” you were cut off abruptly by the startled noise- something between a strangled scream and a high-pitched yelp. The man whipped around to look at you, a somewhat startling expression of alarm on his face. Without a second’s thought, you began to apologize profusely, hoping to negate as much frustration the Cardinal may have with you after scaring him with the abrupt intrusion. He cut you off again, but this time with his own apologies, much to your confusion.

“Ah sorry, Sibling!” The Cardinal gave a small bow of his head, “I didn’t mean to be loud but I’m jumpy sometimes.” He gave a short, awkward laugh as he brought his hand to rub nervously at the back of his neck. If you weren’t mistaken, he sounded as anxious as you felt, which was admittedly perplexing given his rank. “Is there something you need?” Besides the skittish tone of his voice, you could make out an accent- Italian would have been your best guess.

“No, it was my fault! I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that,” you said, embarrassment and a flush of red creeping to your cheeks. You tried your hardest to avoid eye contact- though he didn’t seem to be too interested in it himself- but couldn’t help but notice his mismatched eyes. His right was a pleasant, soft green and his left was a startling white. The eye coloration was familiar, its origin in the Emeritus bloodline taking you a second to place- the reason for it lay in the fact that you had thought Terzo was the last of the bloodline, and yet, this Cardinal sported the same eyes. This was something you weren’t able to spend much time considering, however, as you had more important things to deal with at the moment.      

“And yes, actually. I have some important documents I’m supposed to bring to Sister Imperator’s office but I can’t find it for the life of me. I’m still sort of new here and this place is a bit confusing...” you trailed off, hoping the Cardinal would pick up from where you dropped off with his own answer, preventing you from having to justify yourself more.

    “Oh, that’s an easy one,” he waved his hand dismissively. “I was heading in that direction myself. I’d be happy to guide you.” 

If the offer had come from any other person, you would have likely questioned if they were secretly annoyed at having to take you to your destination, but there was an air of sincerity to his voice that assured you he was genuinely chuffed to be able to help. He motioned you to follow him, you both now setting down the corridors at the brisk pace he had before you had stopped him. 

“Thank you so much for this,” you said, huffing a little bit with the effort that it took to keep up with his speed. He wasn’t the tallest person you had ever seen, closer to average height really, but he could walk deceptively fast. 

“Of course! The abbey can be tricky to navigate, especially in the beginning. How long did you say you’ve been here?”

You attempted to pull up a mental calendar, counting the weeks since you had started your work. “Uh, about a bit over a month, I believe. Probably too long to justify how little I know my way around the place,” you laughed self-deprecatingly, feeling more inadequate in your abilities by the minute. Why you were telling him this- especially with his status as Cardinal- was unknown to you, but his overall presence put you at a level of ease that made the words slip from your mouth somewhat freely. 

“No, no, no,” he tutted, “don’t be too hard on yourself. It’s a big place. If I hadn’t been raised in the Ministry, I would have gotten even more lost myself. How’re you finding your time here so far- if you don’t mind me asking?”

“It’s enjoyable. I’m still getting used to how things work around here since I don’t have much experience with structured involvement with our dark lord, but it’s good to have a purpose. Though I’ll admit, I’m still intimidated by a handful of people around here.”    

The Cardinal let out a barking laugh, startling you enough to make you falter in your stride, but you were able to fall back in step with him quickly. “Oh, I do understand that. I’m still intimidated by some of the Clergy, so don’t feel bad.”

You two had been walking for some minutes, now out of the corridors that you had originally found yourself looking for help in and back in one of the main corridors of the abbey, still moving at the same hurried pace. The rays of the midday sun that shone through the arched windows lining the walls to your left flashed rapidly over your bodies as you passed by, your two shadows along with the latticed ones of the window panes casting onto the opposite wall, elongated and warm. Beyond the glass, you could see one of the many gardens that grew around the grounds. Bushes of flowers- namely roses of deep colors that seemed to absorb the light that hit them- grew around a grand, wooden gazebo. A few Siblings of Sin walked about the garden, some trimming and tending to the plants and others sitting and chatting with one another. 

“It’s a beautiful garden, no?” The Cardinal said, having caught you observing it from the time you two started to pass by it. You looked at him briefly and nodded in quiet agreement, returning your eyes to the last glimpse of the garden as you entered another concealed corridor.

“Papa Emeritus I- or eh, Primo, if you haven’t heard about the Papas’ uh,” he snapped his fingers, seemingly searching for the correct word, “nicknames, I guess- prides himself in those roses. They’re supposedly a unique color hybrid only found in the Ministry. I'm not sure if that’s just a rumor, but I don’t have the heart to find out. If you ever need him, there's a chance you’ll find him there. Or in his study, but he’s not too happy about being interrupted when he’s there.”

You listened to the Cardinal continue to ramble on about Primo as you tried to imagine the formidable figure delicately pruning and tending to the uniquely dark roses. Of those in the Ministry that you found most intimidating, the Papas were close, if not at the top of the list. You had already seen some videos of the performances done by the brothers before arriving at the abbey and they seemed personable enough- maybe some more than others- but here still stood an air of unapproachable nobility. Because of this, there was a constant worry in the back of your mind about the prospect of running into one of them, for fear of saying something stupid or offensive in their presence. 

The Cardinal’s stride began to slow as you both approached a set of ornate double doors, stopping and turning to face you once you both reached them. 

“Go through these doors and her office will be the second door on your right. I don’t think she’s there currently, but there should be a Sibling or ghoul you can give the documents to. They’ll make sure it gets to her.” 

You thanked him extensively for his help, certain that if it weren’t for him, you would still be looking for your destination in corridors far from where you needed to be. As you did this, given that your mind was significantly less frantic over the prospect of not getting the delivery to Sister Imperator, you finally took a moment to fully take in who this man who had helped you was.

His face sported black circles of makeup surrounding his eyes and painted his upper lip- the specific paint pattern worn by Cardinals, you supposed- accompanied by a thin mustache and well-groomed sideburns. His face had an overall rodent-like quality to it- almost ratish- but in a way that you found oddly endearing. Dare you say, cute . Why you found it to be, was yet another thing in regards to him that you weren’t entirely sure about. 

“Well, it’s time for me to be, uh, going.” The Cardinal hooked his thumb behind him, towards the part of the corridor you two had yet to venture down. “If there are any questions you’ve got or if you need help, don’t hesitate to ask me. When I’m here on the grounds, you can usually find me in my office down the hall, just look for the door with the ‘Cardinal Copia’ nameplate.” He froze for a second, his brows suddenly furrowed as if something was wrong. The Cardinal abruptly bounced the heel of his palm off of his forehead, “shit, I didn’t introduce myself this whole time did I?” 

You shook your head, an amused smile growing on your face. It had been the first genuine, non-under-duress smile that spread to your face that entire day, and by Lucifer, did it feel nice. The gratingly anxious nerves that had filled your body as you had set out to find Sister’s office had slowly abated with the presence of the man in front of you, the last shred of it ebbing away with his self-introduction.   

“Ah, well, it’s Cardinal Copia. Sorry for forgetting my manners,” he said with the same apologetic bow of his head he had done earlier. A smile similar to yours graced his lips. “And your name?” As you told him yours Copia’s good-humored smile shifted into one of contentment, seemingly happy that you endowed him with the information. “That’s a very nice name. I’m glad to have you in the Ministry.”

“I’m glad to be here,” you returned, your grin growing wider.

“Hopefully, we’ll meet again sometime in the future. I’d like to hear how you’re getting along.” He gave you a quick wave of goodbye, then turned on his heel and began to head down the corridor, though his walk was quickly interrupted as he turned back to you again. “Oh, and I do hope you’re okay with rats.” 

You nodded your head, not sure what he was implying, but you always had been fond of pet rodents. He flashed an ecstatic smile at you, your answer obviously the one he wanted to hear. 

“Good,” he said, punctuating the word with a point of his index finger and a sharp nod of his head. With that, he turned on his heel once again- now excitedly muttering to himself- and made his way down the corridor.

You chuckled to yourself as you watched him go, enthralled with Copia’s somewhat odd personality. It was the last thing you had expected from someone as high-ranking as he was, but you were grateful for it in your time of need. Hell, you actually enjoyed the brief company of the Cardinal and felt more at peace when talking to him than you had with a good handful of the other Clergy members, Siblings, and ghouls. You decided that you’d have to take him up on his offer to visit him in his area of work one of these days and see what he meant by “being okay with rats”. But for now, you had a task at hand.

Chapter 2: Office Meetings (and rats)

Notes:

I'm keeping the reader's "problems"/outside ministry conflicts as vague as possible for maximum projection potential so yeehaw

Also, rat cameo ft. my past rat Jason because why not

You approached the elaborately decorated door, a golden placard affixed to the side reading “Cardinal Copia”, and knocked. 

It had been some time since you two had first met- something like a month and a half, give or take a week or so. Since then, you both would regularly briefly chat as you passed down the corridors going about your daily duties. Unfortunately, you two had yet to have an opportunity to sit down and talk in earnest, but by the grace of Satan- or by carefully curated schedules on either of your parts- you two were able to find the time. 

There had been no response to your first set of knocks, so you rapped your knuckles on the door once again, this time a bit more forcefully. If there was anything you learned from your multiple, short-lived meetings in the corridors, it was that Copia was prone to bouts of intense focus, and extra effort was sometimes needed to grab his attention. The second knocks had done the trick, as they were met with a muffled “it’s open” from inside. 

You twisted the doorknob and opened the door into a low-lit room that was surprisingly cozy for an office. A sizable wooden desk sat in the middle of the room, with an equally large, but somewhat worn chair behind it. The upholstery appeared to be made of maroon leather that, upon closer inspection, sported at least a dozen holes in various sizes. You assumed it had been the handiwork of Copia’s mischief of rats- the beloved pets that he took little time waiting to tell you about. Various sheets of paper, books, pens, pencils, and a computer that was likely four or more generations behind the current model sat on the desk. The best way you could have described the arrangement was organized clutter- which was an apparent theme throughout his office. Multiple bookshelves lined the walls behind and to the left of his desk, their shelves filled with books, binders, and whatever else he had deemed worthy of shelving- which appeared to include some random knick-knacks and photos. 

You found Copia to the right of you, in front of a sizable cage of some sort, which stood perpendicular to a few seats and a coffee table- all sporting similar wear from gnawing rodent teeth. Hearing your entrance, he turned to face you, revealing the cage behind him to contain multiple rats and a menagerie of enrichment items. 

The Cardinal clapped excitedly upon seeing you. “Ah, you made it!” He elated, coming up to you and taking your hands in his and with a short little bow, he pulled you further into his office. “Welcome to the room I end up masturbating in for hours on end,” he said matter-of-factly. You were rather taken aback at his statement, which you were inclined to believe due to his delivery if it weren’t for the mischievous smirk that quickly grew on his partially painted lips and the tittering laughter that came seconds later. “I kid, I kid. I do actually do work in my office, then I masturbate,” he continued, his suppressed laughter turning to one of full force. Copia let go of your hands and held up his in a mock-defensive pose, the smirk still plastered on his face, “I really am joking though, apologies for my crude humor.” 

You gave a good-humored snort at his admittance, “no, no, don’t apologize on my behalf, I can appreciate a good dirty joke.”

“Ah,” he clapped his hands again, “even more reason to like you!” The Cardinal, in his giddy excitement, placed a hand on your upper back and ushered you to the rat cage, “come, I want to introduce you to some of my friends.”

You both took your place in front of the rat cage and watched as Copia gently opened its doors. The whole thing stood about as tall as him and consisted of two cage levels on top of a storage shelf, the latter filled with things a rat would find desirable. Inside, ramps and ropes crisscrossed across to various platforms and hammocks, with one ramp connecting the two cage levels, while toys, beds, and places for burrowing were strewn about the cage, many showing signs of well-worn use. 

“Damn, they live like royalty. Wait- are those litter boxes in there?” you said, pointing to a triangular box filled with paper shavings that sat in the corner of each level.

“Hm? Oh, yes, those are litter boxes,” he said, leaning into the cage and reaching for what you assumed would be a rat.

“You mean to tell me that you litter box-trained your rats?” You saw his shoulders shake with a suppressed chuckle at the question. 

“Eh, some of them,” he said with a bit of a grunt, pulling his body back out from the cage with a mostly black rat in his gloved hands. “Some rats are… more stubborn than others. It’s a long process,” he shrugged, holding the rat close to his chest. “This is Jason, he’s the one I tend to introduce people to first. He’s pretty, pretty, eh…,” he struggled to find the word he was looking for.

“Personable?”

“Yes! That’s it, thank you. English words evade me sometimes,” he said gratefully. Looking to you, then to Jason, then to you again, he held the rat out towards you. “You can hold him if you’d like.”

“Really?” you asked, halfway extending your hands to the rat, hesitant to take the offer as he obviously cared for his rats deeply and you feared screwing it up.

Copia extended his arms to you further. “Yeah, I trust you, just keep a good hold of him, but not too tight.”

You nodded, gingerly taking the black rat from his hands and into your own. Bringing him closer to your chest, you looked down at Jason, who looked back up at you. Giving him a soft pet to the top of his head, you noticed his whiskers and fur had a curl to them, his fur a uniform black color, save for the white spot on his stomach and socks around his feet. You smiled at him softly and then at Copia, who watched you intently, his hands at his chest, one fidgeting with the rings he wore on the other. He took a second to notice your smile but briefly returned one before he continued to talk. 

“He’s a dumbo rat, so his ears stick out to the sides instead of up if you’re wondering why he looks different from a standard fancy rat. A-and he has the rex gene, so that’s why his fur is curly.” Copia stuttered somewhat as he spoke, the speed of his words having increased as he talked about his rats. “I’ve got a handful of rex-furred rats, actually; it’s sort of a common gene.”  

“Well, he’s a very cute little guy,” you said, returning the rat to Copia, whose mismatched eyes lit up at the statement. You couldn’t help but think it was cute how much he adored his rats and wanted you to feel the same. After introducing you to the rest of the rats in the cage- or at least pointing them out in the case of some of the shyer ones- as well as informing you that they were only a fraction of the rats he cared for, you both settled into the seats adjacent to the cage. 

 “I trust you found my study okay, though,” he ribbed, winking at you playfully.

“Yes, I did,” you rolled your eyes in mock annoyance but did nothing to hide your smile. 

“How have things been treating you then?” Copia asked, shifting in his seat, and ultimately settling on leaning to the side with one leg crossed over the other. 

The corner of your mouth pulled back in a quick grimace at the question. Truth be told, things hadn’t been too entirely favorable recently. A wound from the past had decided to split back open about a week ago, but it wasn’t something you couldn’t handle on your own. You stared down at your arm as you picked at the seam of your sleeve meekly, debating if you wanted to talk about yourself and the problems that came along with it or rely solely on Copia for a distraction. Your eyes stole a glance up at him, expecting to see an expression of annoyance- or maybe something worse- in response to your hesitation, but you were met with the same disarming face that had made you feel at ease the first time you met.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to talk about it,” he said gently, “we can change the subject if you’d like.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’ve been fine,” you answered hastily, a shred of guilt blooming in your chest in the face of your rather blatant lie. You didn’t want to do it, but the past week was the furthest from what you wanted to let him in on- or anyone in on for that matter- and you hoped to shut down any future inquiries. “I have been finding my way around the abbey a lot better at least.” This, as opposed to your previous answer, was actually true. You were getting around the grounds with ease now and it was one of the few positive things that happened recently.

“Ah, fantastic! I knew you would get the hang of it,” he congratulated, giving you a warm smile as he did. It was a small accomplishment in retrospect, but he had a way of making you feel somewhat proud of yourself for it.

With the topic of figuring out how to navigate around the abbey being brought up, a question that arose during your chat with Copia as he led you to Sister Imperator’s office and had been buzzing around in your skull ever since came to the forefront of your mind.

 “Speaking of, do you remember how you mentioned that you were raised in the Ministry when we first met?” 

“Yes, I think so. Why?”

“I’ve only really had a chance to talk to members who’ve entered the Ministry later in life, and I was curious about what it was like,” you asked, more so curious about how living in the Ministry from a young age was for him specifically.  

“Eh… I don’t think my experience was universal for people raised in the Ministry if I’m honest. I mean, I was put on the path toward higher positions in the Ministry since I can remember, so I ended up focusing a lot more on my studies than being around others my age. Then again, even when I could, most of them dismissed me as weird or odd,” he said this last part more to himself than anyone else, something sounding like hurt creeping into his voice. “But when I had lessons with others, it usually was with the Emeritus brothers since our lessons were more involved - I guess that’s what you’d call it. They were more side-by-side than all together like traditional lessons though, since we were all different ages.” You sat forward when Copia mentioned the brothers, a look of surprise etched onto your face. 

“Wait, so you know the Emeritus brothers? Like, actually grew up with them?” The idea of personally knowing powerful and rather enigmatic figures you had heard so much about in the few months you worked in the Ministry was mind-boggling, let alone growing up with them . He tilted his head back and forth, debating how accurate your question was. 

“Somewhat. They were the closest thing I had to brothers growing up, and I’ll admit, they did help raise me to an extent. But how well we knew each other, eh…, it varied.” 

“Do you still talk to them?”

“Sometimes. I do wish it was more some days, but we’re all busy, you know?” he shrugged, fidgeting with a section of the fabric that made up his cassock as he talked.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why did they include you? I’m sure you’re fit for the higher-up positions, but I would think only children from the Emeritus bloodline would get that sort of… prep.” 

Copia’s fidgeting paused abruptly. “It’s, uh, a long story,” he responded rather curtly, offering no further extrapolation on the matter, even with the awkwardness that grew with the silence that followed.

It was with a loud clang (and to your relief), Copia’s rats came to your rescue when you couldn’t think of a segway into a separate, hopefully, more conversationally fruitful and less like pulling teeth, topic. Both you and Copia’s heads snapped to face the rat cage from where the sudden noise had come.

“Judas! How many times have I told you not to climb on the ceiling of the cage? You always fall and you’re gonna hurt yourself one of these days,” Copia reprimanded upon seeing the culprit, a note of concern with a tinge of irritation in his voice. You squinted to see a large, solid gray rat that lay on the bottom platform of the second floor of the cage, mildly disoriented. 

“D-does he do that often?” You asked, tripping up on your words as you still sat in mild shock over the abrupt fall of the rat.

Copia made a discontent noise, presumably at Judas, “yes. I mean, rats can fall about fifteen meters without getting seriously hurt, but I don’t like them taking chances.”

“Damn,” you said, surprised at the rat fact he rattled off but quickly took your opportunity to continue your chat anywhere else than the relationship he had with the Papas, “speaking of, what’s it like having all those rats? I’d imagine it’s a lot of work.” Copia’s demeanor returned to the lively excitement that he had displayed when first introducing you to the rats, his answer (and then some) spilling from his mouth with ease. 

With the reignition of the vigor for the conversation, you and Copia continued to chat for the remainder of his break, the sound of both his laughter and yours periodically bleeding out into the halls for all those who passed to hear.

Chapter 3: Joyride

Notes:

We love making bad decisions on tricycles

“You ride around the Ministry on that ? And Papa Nihil and Sister Imperator let you?” You chuckled somewhat in disbelief at the large, white tricycle that Copia had exhibited to you with a flourish.   

“Eh, well, not-not entirely,” he faltered, the excited grin on his face falling at the question. “Sister lets me get away with it a bit- even indulges me sometimes- but Papa Nihil…” he trailed off, giving a shrug alongside a noise that made it clear that Nihil was none too happy with the Cardinal’s choice of transport. 

“How in the world did you end up with this anyways? I didn’t even know they made them in adult sizes,” you said, taking a full lap around the tricycle to take in all its features. 

Its design followed the one of a basic tricycle you’d see kids ride around on- three wheels (of course), curved body and handlebars, a decently sized seat, and a flat ledge that sat between the two back wheels connecting them. It was as if he had taken one of those classic, child-sized tricycles and increased its size a couple of times. You wondered where in the hell he kept such a thing, given- as it stood in his office right then, taking up a decent amount of space- it was a seemingly cumbersome thing to store.

“Ah, birthday present from a few years back,” he said, patting the handlebars fondly. “Tricycles this size aren’t too hard to come by though, which I’m  glad about because I’ve had a love for them since I was young.” You watched him as he continued to admire his tricycle. There was a giddiness he displayed as he did so that was not unlike the type he’d gain when talking about his rats, and you couldn’t help but smile because of it. His enthusiasm was infectious. 

“It’s pretty cool that you’ve kept up with something you’ve liked that long,” you said, encouraging his excitement with the hope to see that lively spark jump to his eyes as you had seen it happen before when on the topic of his interests. You had secretly grown partial to it in the time you had known the Cardinal, the unabashed passion he held for his hobbies and interests being almost admirable.

“Really?” Copia looked up from the tricycle, a look of surprise on his face as if you had said something unheard of.

 “Yeah! I know there’s plenty of things I wished I had done the same with, so it’s good to see someone who actually did.” Copia’s look of surprise morphed to one of thought, though an eyebrow remained cocked with mild incredulousness at your statement. A shred of worry flashed into your mind as you took notice of the change in his expression. “Something wrong?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Copia said, waving his hand placatingly. “I’m just, uh, used to people thinking some of my interests are-” he paused for a second, his eyes darting to you then fixating on a point on the ground, “childish.”   

Any and all confidence had seemed to drain from the Cardinal, his body taking on a self-conscious stance as he began to retreat into his metaphorical shell, the admittance being something he seemed to view as shameful. You paused for a second, considering his words and the manner in which he said them. 

It hadn’t been much, the occasional modicum of insights into how others in the Ministry treated him never were, but it had been enough for you to piece things together over your time at the Ministry. People tended to treat him like shit - the motivation behind it was something you could never truly understand- but you’d be damned if you weren’t going to try and be the one supportive person in a sea of judgemental ones. 

“I mean, so what if they are? If it’s something harmless you enjoy, why should other people care?” It was at your encouragement that the excited light that had left Copia’s eyes as he became progressively more self-conscious returned, albeit dampened with an air of caution. Behind all of this though, there was a profound look of gratitude, as if you had said something he had been desperate to hear for who knows how long. 

Copia appeared to be caught in your words, perhaps still in shock or mulling over what you had said as he stared at you, wide-eyed and fawn-like. What finally broke his concentration was the clang and patter of food pellets hitting the bars of the rat cage and subsequently, the floor, as one of the rats made away with a cardboard tube filled with food. Restarting his brain like a hammer to an unresponsive motor, the noise startled him out of his trance, his body snapping straight momentarily at the noises. Stepping to the side to extend a guiding hand towards the tricycle, Copia returned to a more light-hearted demeanor.

“D-do, er, w-would you like to, uh, take her for a spin?”

Fuck it, why not? You thought.

“Hell yeah.”

+++

The both of you had decided, by some admittedly foolhardy reasoning, that riding the tricycle together would be the preferable, or at least, a more fun way of going for a joyride. What you two had failed to consider was the prospect of fitting two grown adults on a single-person tricycle, one that, even if it was made for adults, was still on the smaller side for just one person, let alone two. The arrangement that had been ultimately settled upon was this: he, being most familiar with the tricycle and the best route to take, sat on the seat and performed the basics to get the thing moving, while you stood on the back plate between the back wheels and held on for dear life. 

It was a bad accident in the making but, in the end, you decided to risk it in favor of experiencing the ride with the Cardinal, instead of running alongside him or standing there waiting. Plus, you had an excuse to desperately cling to a man that you, frankly, found rather attractive, and for that, you couldn’t complain.

“Are you sure we won’t get in trouble for this?” You asked, taking your place on the metal plate behind where Copia sat on the tricycle.  

“Totally- I mean, as long as we don’t run into Papa Nihil.”

“And how likely are we to run into him?”

“Eh…”

“Nevermind, I don’t want to know. Let’s go, come on,” you said, giving him a quick pat on his shoulder. 

Copia, after giving a short “heh” at your nervous but eager prompting to get moving, lifted his feet to the pedals and began to pump his legs against them, the tricycle stuttering ahead as he did so. Your grip tightened reflexively on the Cardinal’s shoulders as the tricycle began to gain speed. From under your hands that clenched between the bunched folds of his cassock’s shawl, you couldn’t help but notice the lean build that made up his upper back. From underneath the cloth, you could feel his notably taut muscles tighten and lengthen as he steered, correcting for the sway you added to the tricycle. The small movements of his body under your hands were borderline hypnotizing…

But , that was something you’d have to return to later. Or maybe never. Frankly, you really didn’t need a developing crush to worry yourself sick about right now, especially one of the few friends you had in the Ministry who also happened to be one of your superiors. Swallowing thickly, you pushed that thought deep into the back of your mind, hoping it wouldn’t cause problems later, and returned your attention to the ride as a whole.

The tricycle had reached a steady cruising speed, the tires gliding over the smooth, marble flooring of the abbey with ease as you two coasted down the corridor. If it weren’t for the mild squeak squeak noise of the tricycle as Copia pedaled forward, you could have forgotten that you were even standing on the back metal plate and not just sliding over the ground. However, your rather peaceful enjoyment of the untroubled ride thus far was abruptly interrupted as you saw the end of the corridor abruptly approaching. 

You patted Copia’s shoulder once again, this time a bit more frantic, “wait, wait, we should probably slow down to take this corner. Hit the brakes, the trike’s balance is different now, remember?”

“It doesn’t have any brakes,” he said from over his shoulder, his legs pedaling significantly slower now, but the velocity of the tricycle still ultimately remained unchanged.

“Seriously!?”

“You’re just gonna have to hold onto me tight!”

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders the best your standing position would allow, a string of expletives ran through your head as the tricycle approached the turn. Copia had tried to give the corner the widest birth he could as he turned, but there was only so much he could do to compensate for the unnatural weight distribution of the tricycle and the speed at which it was going. As he banked right, the right back wheel lifted from the ground with the entire thing tipping to the left as you took the corner. Before you could attempt to brace yourself, gravity and the tilt of the tricycle became too much. 

Toppling over halfway through the turn, the both of you hit the ground hard and became acutely aware of the unforgiving nature of the marble the floors were constructed from. The side of your head throbbed as you tried (and failed) at squirming from the tangle of legs and tricycle parts. You must have taken a direct hit against the neighboring wall when you both went down. Groaning, you lifted your hand to your head, trying to get things around you to stop vibrating in place as if you were a church bell freshly rung.

A similar groan could be heard next to you as Copia attempted to regain the wind that had been knocked out of his lungs and subsequently untangle himself from the tricycle and you.

“I’ll admit it, that’s not the first time I’ve taken a spill like that,” he said, heaving the tricycle off of the two of you after your legs had been disentangled. “Are you alright?”

You looked at him, your left eye squinted in pain as an ache spread from the side of your head to your face. “Uh, I think so,” you lied, not wanting to cause undue worry or make him think he was at fault for your injury. Your surroundings were finally starting to settle in your vision as you watched Copia push himself off of the ground and stand up somewhat unsteadily, the fall having a notable impact on him too. 

Still sitting on the ground- not entirely wanting to play the game of “will your legs give out halfway when trying to get up”- you continued to watch him as he lifted the tricycle back to its upright position and straightened his cassock (to which he had to pick his hat up from off the ground as it had flown a few feet away in the spill). Upon noticing that you had refrained from doing the same as he and still held your hand to the side of your head in pain, Copia’s expression grew to one of deep concern, his eyes going wide and brow upturning an almost comedic amount. 

“Are you sure you are alright, caro/a?” he asked, kneeling to your level. “You look like you’re in pain.”

“Ah, I just hit my head when we fell. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“No, no, no, no,” he tutted, sounding not unlike a parent who had caught their young child doing something wrong, “the last thing we’re going to do is ignore a head injury. We need to get you checked out in the infirmary.” Copia took to your side, taking the hand that wasn’t pressed to your head in one of his, while the other wrapped around your back to anchor under your lifted arm. “Come on, up we go,” he said with a grunt, bearing most of your weight as he hoisted you up, aiding you in returning to your feet.   

You leaned heavily into his arms as you first stood up, the pain in your head spiking for a minute as your blood pressure rose with the change in position. Once the throbbing at the side of your head returned to the level it had been before standing, you gave him a short nod to tell him you were ready to walk on your own. Copia, who had been watching you intently with his mismatched eyes, searching for any hint that you may need further aid, took a step back and returned to his tricycle, his eyes still trained on you as he did.

“Are you going to ride it there and I follow you, or?-” you teased, loosely gesturing to the tricycle and flashing him a half-smile-half-grimace.

“What?-” A brief look of confusion appeared on his face as he looked down to his tricycle and then back to you, but quickly dispersed as he registered what you said. “Oh- oh . No, no,” he said with one of his short laughs, “I was planning to push it; I’d probably never hear the end of it from Papa Nihil if I left it in the hallway.”

“I figured,” you said amusedly, “let’s go then.”

+++

Thankfully it hadn’t been anything bad- just a nasty lump on the side of your head that’d require periodic icing- but the Cardinal had been right, it was better safe than sorry.

Copia had insisted on walking you back “just in case” after your visit to the infirmary, resulting in the two of you standing outside of your room as you attempted to unlock your door with one hand- the other holding the now dripping bag of ice to your head. With a brief moment of fiddling, the door unlocked, and you stepped inside. Turning to face him, you leaned against the half-opened door and gave him a warm smile.

“Thanks for letting me ride the tricycle with you, even with the whole crashing bit, it was fun. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind trying it again sometime- just maybe not, uh, two people on it at a time.”

Copia- who appeared to have been lost in thought as he stared in your direction, a vacant expression on his face- perked up at your suggestion.

“Ah, yes, yeah, definitely! Just one person at a time, that’s a better idea. Sorry for making you think two people on a tricycle at once was a good idea in the first place, heh.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as he avoided your gaze. “I’d love that though, riding the tricycle again with you. One at a time, of course.” Maybe it was just the lighting or maybe you hit your head harder than you thought, but you could have sworn that Copia’s cheeks and ears had deepened several shades of red. 

“Then it’s a date,” you said, but hastily corrected yourself upon seeing the way his eyes widened with what looked like panic at the word “ date ”. “Plan! Then it’s a plan .” You let out a strained and awkward laugh that sounded somewhat stiff as it left your lips, to which Copia did close to the same. As your discordant laughter (if you could call it that) died, an uncomfortable silence took its place.

“Well,” he cleared his throat in a stilted manner, “I should, uh, probably be, ya’know-” He jabbed his thumb toward the corridor to his left.

“No, yeah, I should, uh, get to taking care of-” You gestured to the bag of ice you held to your head- the icy condensation now dripping down your arm and wetting your sleeve, overall culminating in a really unpleasant experience.

“Yeah, yes. I’ll, uh, leave you to it. I’ll see you later.”

“See you later.”

As the Cardinal departed, you closed the door to your room. With your back pressed against it, you slid down to the floor with a frustrated groan, your hands now at your face and ice on the ground. 

Okay, maybe you did have a crush on him.

Notes:

If you haven't caught on yet/noticed, I headcannon Copia as autistic and write him as such so keep expecting that
----
Also, next chapter is fixing to be at least two, maybe even three, times as long as these past chapters so look forward to that

Chapter 4: From the Pond to the Kitchen (pt.1)

Summary:

You're having a decidedly rough time but Copia comes to help you through it

Though it may have taken a bit longer than you’d like to disclose, you had at long last found your niche within the Ministry. You had put in the time and effort and came to find where and what you liked most, what routines fit best, what was the talk of the abbey currently and more. You had even earned a degree of trust amongst your higher-ups within the archives, to the point that there had been conversation of your first big project getting to be archiving an array of items from Papa Emeritus I’s personal artifact collection, ones that had never made it through the cataloging process. 

Making friends was even a success, ultimately affording you a few new people to spend your free time with. Despite your new found friends, Copia was still your closest and longest standing friendship, and with it, he took precedence. Any time your schedules aligned you were there by each other's side. The chances may have been few and far between at first, but eventually it came together in the end. He hadn’t admitted it and would likely deny it in the face of questioning, but you were sure he had gone as far as to beg Sister Imperator to allow him to move around his schedule to make it work. Coordination efforts were likely also bolstered by the long awaited success (following multiple forgotten intents to attempt or ill-timed interruptions) of exchanging phone numbers, though that would be assigning a lot of credit to which Copia's rather unexemplary record of answering his decidedly ancient cellphone did not deserve. 

During one of these planned “get-togethers” after days of back and forth attempts at pinning down an adequate date and time, he had suggested that you both visit the pond on the west end of the grounds and have lunch— something to which you agreed to with little need for consideration. 

It was a place you had yet to properly visit since you weren’t on the west side most days. Even when you had been, it was almost always on errand runs. Safe to say, you only had a chance to view it in passing before then, but even in its brevity, it was beautiful. You even found yourself daydreaming of it on the days where the archives were particularly dreary. Strolling over the small bridge that stood over the lily pad-dappled water, connecting the large, golden gazebo, intricate in its decoration and architecture, and spending an hour or two there.

When Copia had suggested the visit, his presence only sweetened the already desired experience.

Upon arriving at the pond, the surrounding area almost void of others, he had led you to a massive willow tree that grew from an alcove beside it, the branches hanging low over the grass and water. He had pushed aside some of the branches, leaving a part in the curtain of leaves for you to follow him through, to which upon entering, you were surprised to find the cascading leaves to his side parted just enough to provide a view of the pond and gazebo from where you two stood. Most everything else around you was blocked from view, save for the occasional warm rays of sun that filtered through the leaves and danced against your frames. The scene was almost dream-like in appearance. 

But, in different circumstances such as right now, that feeling was near intangible.

Now, you had found yourself in the same place again, alone and near dark, a stark difference from when you and the Cardinal had first visited it together. The last light from the setting sun shone a blazing amber color, a single wide beam resting on your form as you huddled under the tree. 

It had been a shitty day, a very very shitty day to cap off a shitty week and an even shittier month. Things had been building for a while, and now you were here, the roiling boil finally reaching the surface. You would have secluded yourself within your room like any other person would have the instinct to do when they wanted to shut out the world, but given how thin the walls were between the dormitory rooms, the spot under the willow was the only place your tired mind could think of where your poorly stifled crying would be free from prying eyes. Dusk had settled overhead and nightfall wasn't far behind, while there were still a few handfuls of people roaming the grounds, the majority of them would be heading inside, if not already indoors. It was your best chance if any to be alone and unheard.

Hugging your knees to your chest, your arms ached with how tightly you squeezed, as if the tighter you held on, the less you would be able to feel anything else. Tears sluggishly rolled down your cheeks, dripping and falling from where they collected on your face as stared down at the ground, your eyes focusing on nothing. The only thing visible through your wet lashes was the gradient of dusky purple and amber haze.

Enveloped by the events and emotion that lead you to the point you felt almost separate from where you sat, you failed to hear the rustling to your left as a figure parted the branches.

“Ah, that’s where you are,” said a familiar voice. It was soft, tender even, somehow soothing but magnifying at the same time. That familiarity somehow cut through the focus of your down spiral, though you couldn't say if it was for the better. A rush of panic and shame set in as your back straightened abruptly, every muscle fiber clenching at the intrusion of the moment you thought you had privacy in. With a sharp and hasty breath, you attempted to feign composure, though his voice only served to chip away at your facade.

"Are-are you alright?” 

You looked up to see him stepping into the canopy space with you, ginger in every movement, expression shadowed but of obvious concern. A burgundy hoodie hung almost loosely off his shoulders, unzipped to show a black shirt with text, a white blur in your vision printed across his chest. Feeling tears threatening to well once again, his mere presence somehow making everything worse, you dropped your gaze. Even in the dying light you were afraid he would see the redness that splotched your skin and rimmed your eyes.

“I’m fine,” you sniffed, hiding your features from his view by returning to hugging your knees to your chest and burying your face there.

He sat down next to you with a groan, his eyes still trained on you, gentle yet intent. 

“Really?”

Warring agitation and relief caused your chest to ache— not in the way that the tight press of your knees squeezed at your lungs, but in a deep, crushing way, like the crushing pressure at the bottom of the sea. You couldn’t tell if you hated that he tried to push the subject or were grateful for it— maybe you were waiting for that moment of permission. That moment of allowance that told you that he wished to be there with you in your pain. That told you to let him see all of you, maybe not physically, but emotionally; the concept somehow felt even more naked than if you were to lay yourself physically bare by stripping right where you stood.

A part of you yearned for accompaniment and comfort that came with it, while the other fought against it like a coyote caught in a bear trap. 

With any response other than one that ultimately shut down his line of questioning came the requirement to truly sit with it. Sit with the pain, that caused you to be in the state you were now— a fact that you had been so desperate to ignore until you couldn't any longer. For hours, days, weeks you had wanted to push it off, tuck it away and let it collect dust for later, perhaps forget it all in its entirety and just hope that it wouldn’t manage to unbox itself and rear its ugly head at a moment that would somehow be worse. That had been before it had all became too much, the last thing added to the pile causing it to topple, pouring out in a way that made it impossible to contain again without allowance for some spillage.

You had thought your private excursion to the willow would have allowed for a brief enough spillway for everything that plagued you that it would have resolved quick enough. Cry your tears then get back to it, but here was Copia, sweet and tender as ever, his expression bathed in concern, asking what you what's wrong. 

Just his presence tugged at throat, urging your tears to turn to sobs .

The seconds of silence between you two as Copia waited for an answer felt like a lifetime, with the longer you two sat within it, the more it all pulled hard at the pit of your stomach, ultimately pushing you over the edge. There was but a second where you could see his face clearly before your vision blurred with a pool of new tears that began to stream down your cheeks as you looked back to him from your knees. 

A soft but hoarse “oh” escaped Copia’s lips as you began to hiccup and shake, the few remaining shreds of false composure you had now gone. 

He brought his hand to your shoulder opposite him and pulled you into a hug— one that remained gentle but tight, the reassurance that he was not going anywhere any time soon present in its very sensation. His gesture only caused you to cry more fiercely as you returned his embrace with even more force, your hands clenched tight around handfuls of the fabric of his jacket. As you sobbed and hiccuped into his chest, ultimately darkening his shirt with your tears, you had felt the slow, rhythmic glide of his hand rubbing up and down your back as he tried to coax you through it all. 

It may have taken a few minutes, but breaths had slowed and hiccups faded when you began to finally focus on him and him alone— he faint earthy musk that clung to his skin and clothes, his quiet, bated breaths, the weight of his arms as they held you close. Within his embrace you felt… well, you couldn’t find words to describe it adequately. You just knew it felt safe, and frankly, you would have stayed there forever if the universe would have allowed it. Things always have to come to an end at some point, however.

Enough time had passed that the sun had sunk below the horizon in its entirety, the faint glow of the waning moon taking its place. The composure you had so fervently clung to but eventually lost in Copia’s comfort had finally returned, more earnestly this time, though perhaps not entirely. It was at least enough to allow a conversation, albeit a bit strained. You both remained in each other's arms, grasps looser now.

“You don’t have to, but, uh… if you need to talk, I’m all ears,” the Cardinal said cautiously as he cocked his head to the side to glance down at your tear stained face. His voice barely climbed above a whisper.

You croaked out an answer, your own voice sounding of gravel underfoot, “ca-can we stay like this for a few m-more minutes? T-then I think I’ll be ready to talk.”

“Of course,” he said, resting his head atop yours. "Take all the time you need."

Notes:

Honestly didn't think I'd be coming back to this fic because of how far lore has gotten but I got in the mood to add to this (also med school is a bitch and a half)- we'll see how far I get

Chapter 5: From the Pond to the Kitchen (pt.2)

Summary:

Things between you and Copia might be a bit more mutual than you thought-- also spaghetti dinner and wine

Notes:

CW: alcohol use and getting drunk

I have no clue why this ended up being so long but this chapter has been about 2 years in the making. Also brownie points/apologies to those who notice the single line of dramatic irony in this chapter because I just like to be a little cruel

You and Copia had remained under the willow tree, him listening fairly intently as you hoarsely spilled the details of your troubles until a chill grew in the previously mild air. While it was nice, neither you nor he had been prepared to sit out in the cold that long, so you both opted to move your now more lighthearted conversation from the pond to the abbey’s kitchen. It ultimately had been Copia’s idea, his justification being somewhere along the lines of: “food is nice when you’re sad”, though you couldn’t have agreed more in that moment.

You both had made your way down the corridors of the abbey to the kitchen at a trot, trying to bring your body heat back up as you went. By the time you had reached the doors to it, the numb, tingling feeling in your fingers and toes was finally beginning to subside, easing back to their normal state. Trying to rub away the remainder of the pins and needles in your fingertips, you watched Copia with slight confusion as he began to reach around into nooks and crannies near the kitchen door. It wasn’t until he got on all fours and found a small air vent— one with a peculiarly loose grate— and came back up with a large key in hand, that you had an idea of why he was searching and what for.

“Ah, found it! Good to see it hasn’t been moved,” he said with excitement, showing you an old key. “A couple years back they had to start locking the kitchen on account of a couple ghouls demolishing the pantry and wrecking the cookware. The Siblings and other, uh, more responsible ghouls that usually cook the meals are the only ones that really have access to the main keys, but Terzo snagged one and hid it for late-night snack runs since they refused to give him a copy.” Copia added, beginning to unlock the door, a satisfying kerchunk noise emanating from the lock as he turned the key. “Buuuut, I was able to spy on him one night and see where he hid it… since asking him didn't do shit," he voiced the latter half of his sentence under his breath, a side remark mostly to himself. The attempt at groveling that was made for the key was something he didn't wish to fully acknowledge, lest he admit to having begged Terzo for something, so he'd figured to leave it at just that.

Ignoring the obviously unfavorable subject that he had just made you aware of (intentionally or otherwise), you chose to ask further about the delegation of the keys themselves.

“Wait, why wouldn’t they give Terzo one? I would have thought that the Siblings and ghouls would give almost everything the reigning Papa Emeritus wanted. If it’s something easy at least. Even then, why not just keep it in his room?”

Copia stifled a bark of laughter, knowing something you didn’t. “Because he loses things constantly.” He turned to you as he began to push the door open with the back of his shoulder, the hinges giving off a slow creak, “how does that saying go? ‘His head would go missing if it wasn’t attached to his shoulders’ or, ah, something like that?” He said, giving a dismissive wave of his hand as he did; the correctness of the English idiom didn’t matter much to him as long as you got the point. “You should have seen him when he lost his kazoo the night before he planned to use it for a performance— one he had been planning for ages just so he could fuck with Secondo, mind you. I’ve never seen his place turned upside down so bad before, shit was everywhere.”  

The thought of this notoriously suave figure of the clergy making an utter mess of his room for such a small and cheap instrument was a thought to behold to say the very least. In an ideal world this image would have helped make him less intimidating of a figure— or a concept at least— but you weren't quite sure it did.

Truthfully, you had yet to meet any of the Emeritus brothers in earnest, the closest you had come to it being the offhanded notes related to the potential archive project from Primo himself, plus the one time where you were forced to drop off an old tome at Secondo's desk— to which he was miraculously absent from at the time. You were embarrassed to admit it, but despite the time you had spent in the Ministry so far, you still found yourself intimidated by those in high ranking positions of the Clergy. It was a miracle you had yet to faint with the handful of times you were made to relay some new records to Sister Imperator herself, though that's not saying your heart rate hadn't tried. It was baffling how Copia could be grouped amongst them all, considering his inability to be any more intimidating than a medium sized dog— something you conveniently omitted from telling him when he'd asked if he he had looked imposing one day during a sermon he helped lead. Though, with these occasional insights into the quirks and habits of the Emeriti, it made them appear far more... well, human. They were still intimidating, yes, but approaching them was more feasible, at least.

You just hoped that wouldn't be any time soon. 

Entering through the open doorway, you and Copia found yourself in a room shrouded in darkness. The only form of light that cut through the black was a long beam of moonlight shining through the small windows at the top of the left-most wall, allowing you to just make out the odd shapes and structures within the shadows that made up the kitchen. 

With a quick flick of his wrist, Copia turned on the overhead lights in the main part of the kitchen. The bulbs flickered on and off a few times before remaining on, a low and steady hum emanating from them as they did. He had turned back to you again, now in the warm light of the humming bulbs and stretched his arms out, striking a pose as if to present the scene before you.

“Ta-dah!” he said, flashing a smile at you— it wasn't so much in the lips as was it in his eyes. While his mouth didn't stretch much into the curvature one would expect, his eyes were nearly upturned with the painted skin around them creased heavily with enthusiastic light. You could admire that expression all day if he'd let you. It had been one that you had come to love about him, all because it was something genuinely and unabashedly him.

Laughter that you couldn’t help contain bubbled up somewhere within your chest— a deep, genuine laugh of enjoyment— and after the day, week, month you'd had, it felt damn good to do so.

“Alright, so what are we feeling food-wise?” Copia asked, rubbing his hands together not looking unlike a devious raccoon with his black nitrile gloves. This image of him lasted only a brief moment, interrupted by the sudden outstretch of his arm, his forefinger held up in a motion to hold on. "Oh, wait! I have the perfect idea!"

Before you could so much as ask what that idea may have been, he scurried over to the far end of the kitchen. In his hastiness his hip narrowly missed the corner of the island counter that sat in the middle of the floor as he went, though this did little to stop him as he disappeared into a doorway furthest from where you stood. There was the sound of rustling and muttering, then some decidedly choice words when you heard a larger-than-nothing-but-somehow-not-too-concerning sounds of items falling, only for Copia to emerge with a several things in his arms. About as fast as he had entered the pantry did he walk over to the island counter and spill the contents from his arms onto the counter top.

Copia continued to still busy himself — shedding his gloves, then pulling a pot and pan from the cabinets below— as you looked over his haul. There was a bag of spaghetti, tomato sauce, ground meat, and…

"Juice boxes?" You asked, or more so stated the observation, though there was still some question behind the pairing.

"Oh, heh, sorry. Those… are, uh, yeah those are for me," Copia responded sheepishly, lugging the now water-filled pot from the sink to the nearest stove top, turning on the burner and salting the water right after. "Unless you want one," he offered, perking up at the realization that he should do so.

A light, good natured laugh left you his apparent eagerness to please— even if it was just you and some juice boxes with pasta.

"No, I think I'm good for now. Thank you though."

"Actually… wait, uh, here. Just one second." Copia said, once again motioning you to stay put before rushing away to the pantry again, what he had forgot was beyond you.

The location of what he had been looking for must have been well known to him for not long after did he come back out with two wine bottles in hand.

“Still cold?” he joked, holding up the bottles for you to see to which you responded with an amused snort.

"Maybe just a bit," you said coyly, causing him to return your laugh with his own.

Copia sat the bottles down to the side of the ingredients then swiftly left to rifle through a drawer and a cabinet, returning with two glasses and a wine key in hand.

“I'd forgotten I had these stashed away until now, and there's no time like the present, eh?” he said with another laugh— his usual breathy, "heh"— and began to open the nearest bottle of wine. He inserted the wine key into the neck of the lightly tinted bottle, piercing the cork and twisting it out with surprising speed. It came out with a final satisfying thunk and Copia tilted the neck of the bottle toward you. “Would you like some? It’s Moscato, so— uh— nothing too fancy.” He paused for a second but quickly added, “but you won’t hurt my feelings if you don’t want any.”

Frankly, the name of the wine went over your head the minute you heard it, nothing beyond the vague notion of having heard it before present in your mind. The only thing that remotely gave you a clue as to what type of wine it was was the pale, off-white color of the liquid inside the bottle.

Ah, white wine, you thought.

You weighed your options; you had work tomorrow but it was supposed to be a light day, and further soothing your worn nerves was tempting, to say the least. In the end, you grabbed a glass and held it out to him.

"Sure, why not? Can't let you have both bottles all to yourself.”

This earned a short bray of laughter from him, the sound you had grown fond of dying in a pitchy sigh as he dabbed at the corner of his eye with the back of his hand.

"Future me sends his thanks for helping to prevent potential hangovers," he said, reaching for your glass.

His fingers, bare for what had seemed like the first time ever, grazed atop yours as he grabbed the glass' stem from your hand. An electric spark of nausea washed up and over your nerves and settled in the pit of your stomach, leaving you uneasy. It wasn't like you hadn't bumped, grabbed, held, or felt him before— hell, you had tried to bury yourself in his chest just an hour or two prior— but there was something about his skin on yours that sent your heart into your throat.

You tried to clear the growing lump— once, twice— without much success while Copia absentmindedly poured your drink. Relieved when he handed it back to you and desperate to try and make some difference— or maybe desperate to hide the growing flush on your cheeks— you took a large pull from your glass. The taste bypassed your tongue with how eagerly you drank the wine, the only thing you could register being the slight burn as it traveled down your throat.

"Woooah! Slow down, don't start without me," Copia whined, setting down his filled glass and re-corking the bottle. He was being playful enough but there was a degree of truth to his words, ever the one to be fearful of being left behind.

"Sorry," you said through another attempt to clear your throat, finally succeeding with a breathy, alcohol-tinted cough. You took another— decidedly smaller— sip from your drink, watching from over the rim of your wine glass as Copia did the same. The unexpected sweet and almost citrusy flavor ran over your tongue, its light sugary sting causing your mouth to water now that it had time to linger on your taste buds. The alcoholic warmth returned, working its way down your throat and settling in your stomach, functioning to sedate the butterflies swarming within it.

"Oh!" Copia stopped mid second sip from his glass, "one more thing." Hurrying off yet again, though not departing far from where you had decided to take your seat on one of the bar stools standing at the opposite side of the kitchen island, he fiddled with something in the corner of the room. There was a click, then static, followed by the quiet sounds of music. A few more clicks, each followed by a change in song until the faint notes of something akin to instrumental rock began to bleed from what you had realized was a small boombox. The volume adjusted— higher, lower, lower again, too low, then just a tad higher— until it was fully discernible, but only just.

He returned to the island where you now sat, another exclamation of "tah-dah" as he had when he had first shown you the kitchen. You returned his gesture with a round of quiet applause, scoffing amusedly as he took your clapping and ran with it, offering a series of exaggerated bows in response.

He was so stupid… You were so glad you had met him.

You continued to sip at your wine as he proceeded to prepare the meal and continuing to drink at his own. It hadn't taken long before you had near finished your glass and, when turning around to grab the last of the few ingredients, Copia had readily filled both yours and his with the remaining wine from the opened bottle.

"Goes down easy, eh?" he asked with a smirk, discarding the bottle to the side of the counter top.

"Just a bit," you said with a playful huff, swirling around the fresh wine in your glass. If you were to be honest, you were starting to feel its effects already, the fact that your stomach was left empty likely being the main culprit. That familiar heady buzz was beginning to wash over you, easing away the tension in your muscles and excitement in your nerves. Going by how his expression had relaxed from its usual focused intensity (though maybe not on what's at hand) and how his eyelids seemed to droop, you would have guessed Copia was in a similar position.

The scene was relaxing, peaceful even, a far cry from how thing had been not more than a few hours ago. You took to humming contently with the music, the low vibration in your chest acting additionally soothing.

It wasn't much longer until Copia left his spot in front of the stove and moved to a nearby set of cabinets to which he pulled out large, flat bowls and some cutlery from the drawer directly below it. He began to separate the pasta dish between the two bowls upon his return to his position, his movement looser, more languid than it had been. This was the first time you had truly seen him inebriated to any extent, and you couldn't pinpoint why, but it was almost endearing to see him in a somewhat more vulnerable state such as this.

Copia finished plating and turned to place your share in front of where you sat, adding the cutlery next to it right after. As if on cue your stomach growled loudly, leaving you with little hesitation before you began to dig into your food. The meal was overall simple, no extra spices, fancy presentations, or additional processes beyond the basics, just a big bowl of spaghetti, meat, and tomato sauce— but it was exactly what you needed.

You were on your third bite by the time Copia came to sit next to you with his own portion, though he seemed to be focused more on you than the pasta in front of him.

“Good?” he asked through a laugh, though all you did was answer with the nod of your head, mouth too full to hazard more of an answer to his question.

There was that scrunch of his face as the smile took to his eyes again. Even in his tipsy state, his ears flushed bright red, he still shone as he always did when he was told 'job well done'. It was a look that, if it weren't for the wine doing its job, would have caused your stomach to be full of butterflies a second time that night, overwhelmed by the feelings that he— looking as he did— gave you.

Time from there forward seemed to liquefy, the seconds and minutes flowing by as easily as the wine went down. You talked about anything , everything, and nothing at all with him, the conversation ebbing and flowing comfortably between bites of pasta and sips of drinks as you both enjoyed the presence of one another. The point of soberness or even tipsiness had long gone and passed as well, your mental acuity as fleeting as the passing time. Your mind was fuzzy, the memories of today long forgotten, your belly was full, and you had the man who was arguably your closest friend beside you— you really couldn't have asked for more.

However, you were about to get more than you had bargained for, or at least, were prepared for.

You had first chocked up the sound of the old door creaking open to the music that still played beyond your plane of concentration, but you were easily proven wrong when the unexpected guest approached the kitchen island and cleared their throat expectantly.

Thankfully you hadn't initially reacted much beyond feeling as though your soul had left your corporeal form briefly as your head whipped around to see who was now at your side (the subsequent reaction upon seeing who it was, while still mostly kept within yourself, was far more nuclear however). Copia, on the other hand, wasn’t so lucky. Instead, the sound caused him to jump in his seat, promptly sending the empty bottle of wine clattering to the floor. The bottle collided with the marble, a sharp series of clanks and clinks ringing out in the quiet. He cringed at the noise, his body and face scrunching up in pain while a quiet “ffffuuuuuuuuuuck” escaped from between clenched teeth.

“So much for being quiet while you’re in here, hm?” Terzo asked, eyebrow quirked.

No.

No. No. No. No. No.

Of all times you had to have encountered and come face to face with one of the reigning Emeritus brothers why did it have to be now , and why did it have to be when you were drunk! ?

You were fucked. You were so completely fucked.

There was an attempt at apologizing profusely on your part but it died quickly where it started, the shock and horror at the very situation that was happening— right here and right now— tying your tongue in more knots than you could count.

Terzo's opinion on finding you two there was near indiscernible, his expression reading somewhere between coy, disinterest, and irritation with no additional factors to help you decipher the matter. Perhaps that was just the alcohol ruining your judgment, clouding your thoughts and ability to read what this high ranking clergy member was thinking— though it wasn't like it mattered either way, any answer would be a bad one. You wanted to leave this situation. You wanted out. Right. Now.

While you had expected Copia to be equally as meek as you after being caught in the kitchen, hand in the metaphorical cookie jar (though there had been a non-zero chance it could have been a non-metaphorical one if Copia's sweet tooth had won out), he was anything but. If you hadn't been with him the entire time prior, you would have assumed him a mean drunk. Instead, there seemed to be something deeper between the two (or at least on Copia's end) that you weren't privy to, not by a long shot.

"You were the one to sneak up on us, man. What the fuck did you think was gonna happen?" Copia bit from over his shoulder, not quite granting Terzo the privilege of his undivided attention.

"Maybe that there hadn't been a spying little shit trying to find and use the key that's only meant for me. Also that someone who watches as many horror movies as he does would be less of a wuss."

"Oh screw you dickhead, leave the movies out of it!" Copia snapped back, shifting in his seat to face Terzo entirely, one finger jabbing pointedly at him as he continued. "And you know you're not supposed to have that key too. So if you didn't want people to find it, maybe you should have gone to hiding shit school and learned to hide shit better then."

"Hiding shit scho— what?" Terzo appeared utterly confused at the statement, though this was quickly traded in for the abandonment of the line of conversation entirely, marked by him tossing his hands in the air, conceding to the argument he hadn't signed up for in the first place. "Actually, you know what? I don't care." He said, leaning down and picking up the rogue bottle and placing it back on the counter top with a groan. “Just keep it quieter than—” he gestured loosely toward the rectified empty bottle with his hand, “that.”

This nonsense argument had your hazy mind reeling, too many factors all at once flying at you as sat there in the crossfire between the two men, caught wide-eyed like a deer in headlights. You just hoped to not get drug into it. But, just as you thought you might manage to fly under his radar and stay out of the conversation entirely, Terzo turned his gaze to you. Your heart dropped hard into the pit of your stomach— no, lower— into your ass, sitting there heavily like a ball of lead.

“Anyways, who’s your friend?” 

There was no emotion in his question, not a twitch at the corner of his lips or angle of an eyebrow, not even a hint of the salaciousness that you had heard he was so infamous for. It made it impossible to tell what he thought of you and your inclusion in tonight's escapades, but it didn't stop you from jumping to the worst case scenario.

He's going to immediately hate you for this, maybe even report you to Sister Imperator because of it. Copia could get away with it because he knew Terzo, not to mention that he was a Cardinal— but not you. You were just a Sibling of Sin, they could fire you from your position without a second thought. They'd easily replace you in the archives and leave you to try and find your place in the Ministry again. Or worse— they could excommunicate you entirely, leaving you to go back to your previous life where you had nothing left.

Your throat had begun to grow painfully dry, nearly causing you to choke on tacky saliva caught halfway between your mouth and esophagus. Despite this, and seeming to be entirely oblivious to the gravity of the situation at hand, Copia took what felt like eons before answering the question that hung heavy in the air. The drag of silent seconds before his response only succeeded to encourage the thrumming of your heart to grow faster.

It was upon Copia finally offering your name and job that you traded the desire to run for the need to be swallowed up by the floor, hoping desperately for it to take you out of the situation.

Why was it that the one time you finally let loose and allowed yourself to drop your guard enough to get drunk that you ended up meeting one of the Papas— and the one in current power at that? Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck…  

“Oh, so you’re the Sibling I’ve heard Copia hangs around. Well, my apologies for forcing you to be witness to our little… spat,” he said, waving a hand dismissively towards Copia (which earned him a not-so-covert middle finger).

"It's fine," you managed to say, trying not to shatter the wine glass you held in a death grip between your two hands.

The integrity of your glass was only further tested as Terzo almost suddenly stuck out his hand towards you, palm up, offering to take yours. The hesitation that engulfed your limbs in response was palpable, not only to you but Terzo as well. Gazing up through his lashes at your paling face, he stared expectantly— no… calculatingly, waiting for your move.

His eyes seemed to leaden your dominant hand, the joints going stiff and bones turning to heavy stone, making it feel near impossible to willingly move your hand to his. Despite this near impossibility, it was your need keep your standings with the Clergy that ultimately won out, even with the overwhelming weight that had found home in your hand.

Breaking free from its clawed grasp around the glass, your dominant hand came to settle tentatively in his outstretched palm. Terzo took this and leaned in a slight bow, bringing the back of your hand to his lips briefly before relinquishing it back to you. Somewhere besides you, barely registering in the forefront of your mind, you heard Copia make a sound of deep disgruntlement— something almost close to a growl— before he polished off the remainder of his drink and began to fuss with the second bottle of wine, pouring the last remaining ounces of liquid into his glass. This made no difference to Terzo.

“It's a pleasure to meet you," he said, steady and diplomatic.

The gesture had been fluid and near effortless, as were his words, but it still felt mechanical; at the very least it was rehearsed, like he had done the song and dance a thousand times before. While to most, this observation would call into question his sincerity, this wasn't what ran through your head. Instead, it made something come to mind that was not about Terzo at all and far more possessive than you thought yourself to be.

How many times had Copia brought someone to the kitchen late into the day like this? Was it as rehearsed of a move as what Terzo was doing in front of you? Were you a part of the pattern and not the exception?

Copia claimed he had not many friends, both in the past and present, though this failed to fully acknowledge any person who had been something more to him or any person of the opposite, where the brief pairing was solely based on carnality— a one and done. It was something completely out of your control and meant nothing in terms of your here and now, but you still found yourself wanting to be the first one Copia had brought here to wine and dine, even if it was a simple pasta dish and stashed away moscato. You wanted to be the first one and the only one, but in reality, he would have had his share of partners in the past by now, as had you. The time for reserving firsts over stupid things like where he would take you and what he'd do for you when you're sad was long past. Maybe it never logically existed as an obtainable "first" in the first place, instead it was just some obsessive construct cobbled together by your non-sober mind.

It's not like it had been a date. Hell, you weren't even sure he actually liked you like that.

This brief spiral, while unpleasant, had broken you away from the arresting trance of Terzo's attention, your hand finally rejoining your other in clasping your wine glass once again.

“Likewise,” was all you were able to say, too many things swirling around in your thoughts, all soggy with the wine that had been drained from your glass.

“I’m glad you two became friends, Lucifer knows how sick and tired we were of seeing C moping around on his days off.” Terzo said with a wave of a hand, playful but dismissive. "Even though I'm sure being Nihil's errand boy had you talking to a sizable amount of people, yeah?"

Palpable tension hung overhead as nothing filled the silence that followed, save for the rapid tap-tap-tapping of Copia's leg, bouncing against the bar stool foot rest. He refused to return any sort of acknowledgement, opting to remain hunched forward, scowling into the yellowish-white liquid held within his glass.

"Then again, you've always had trouble making friends. Either way, I'm glad you've got someone else other than me to follow around like a lost dog," Terzo laughed, his words just throw away comments despite the significance you assumed of them.

Still no response or even acknowledgement from Copia.

“Aaaanyways,” Terzo started again, rolling his head to the side in emphasis as he drew out the word, equipped just as well as you to deal with the emerging situation. “I’m going to go grab some shit and head to bed. Don’t get too drunk.” He looked poised to reach over and muss-up Copia's hair as he passed by, but he retracted his outstretched hand, aborting the attempt half way through. The only indication that Copia had seen this was in the way his eyes seemed to narrow in anticipation— perhaps daring him to try it— other than this, he made no motion from his hunched position to indicate otherwise.

It wasn't until Terzo had entered the pantry that Copia finally moved beyond the rattling of his leg against the stool. He lifted the wine glass to his lips again and took a surprisingly large swig, draining it almost entirely of its contents, only to put it back down in front of him with a loud huff. 

You hadn't wanted to poke what was still fresh, at least not until Terzo had left, so you both sat in silence, waiting for the faint rustling from the pantry to end and for the population within the kitchen to return to its original two. It was by the grace of Beelzebub that Terzo must’ve known exactly what he'd wanted, because it wasn’t more than five minutes before he had returned from the pantry with a handful of items in tow. You braced yourself for another conversation at the detriment of you and Copia both, but in a moment that made you note that you should pay your respects to the higher powers, he continued to saunter past, offering little attention to either of you now that his questions and desires were satiated.

Mouth full of something from the array of items he held, Terzo said something along the lines of “good night”, muffled almost to the point of indecipherability, then slipped out with surprising quietness.

You sat there, blinking your eyes rapidly as you stared at the door, then to the counter, trying to come up with the best way to move forward after such an encounter. Minutes passed as you tried to coordinate some semblance of a train of thought on the matter, one that hopefully didn't tip the scales of tolerance and send Copia reeling over the edge that he was already teetering upon. Truth be told, despite his undeniable irritation, you weren't entirely sure that— if he truly were to go over that edge tonight— it would end in blind, audible anger or hot, frustrated tears.

“So… that was… something… Do you two… always talk like that?" You were tiptoeing around the situation, albeit with about as much grace as a ballerina with two left feet. Sure, some of the conversation (if one could call it that) sounded all within the realms of sibling-esque casual cruelty, but some of it felt far more pointed than the others.

Still nothing, only the continued hunched position over his nearly empty glass, his leg continuing to bounce aggressively in place. You prodded a little further.

"Was that the whole reason you're all… like this?” You asked, waving a hand haphazardly towards his vicinity, trying to encapsulate him as a whole. "All sulky and stuff?" Your tact was nearing zero but you managed to earn somewhat of a response.

"It's not about that," he muttered, his sentence slurred— sounding more like 'snot bout that' as it left his wine-laden tongue, only made worse by the hand he ran over his face in weariness.

"What's it about then?"

All he offered was a grunt at this, refusing to elaborate further, taking far more interest in picking at the cuticles of his right hand, chewed down to their frayed edges.

"Really? Is that all you're gonna give me?"

To your mounting frustration, he remained silent. You were about to prod again, not appreciating the lack of explanation and not being sober enough to care how it came off, until he turned away from you in his chair, lips pressed into a fine line and shoulders hunched even further in on his frame. The half-baked idea of what you'd say next died right there.

Disappointment and something that you could only interpret as embarrassment flushed your already florid face, turning your cheeks warmer by the second. Disappointment that the night— one that had been going so well, even though it was born of such an unsavory afternoon— had come to this point, and the disappointment that Copia didn't feel he could confide in you what was the matter. The embarrassment for having been the reason for Copia having been in the position to have that conversation with Terzo only acted to fuel it. Every bit of today that led up to where you two were now burned underneath your skin and made it near impossible to sit still, let alone sit and process it, so you opted to try something different.

Completely different.

Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was pure stubbornness, but you decided on something brash and probably really stupid. You’d be damned if this was how you’d let the night end, no matter how sideways it had gone.

Jerkily, you got to your feet. It was done with little ceremony, for all anyone knew (and perhaps you didn't quite know either) you were just getting up to go to the bathroom, but Copia's head still twitched, neck twisting just enough so he could watch you out of the corner of his eye. If his attention was only lightly held by your sudden movement, it became gripped when you took your wine in hand, the glass still half full, and downed the remaining liquid in a few large gulps. The glass made a sharp ting sound when you placed it back down on the counter before you started making your way towards the boombox, the faint warmth of alcohol still lingering in the back of your throat.

All semblance of what covert observation Copia was making of you were abandoned as you took your deliberate steps towards the source of the music, his eyes trained on you now, albeit with a puzzled expression across his face.

When you reached the boombox you began to fumble with the worn dials and buttons, finally settling on a station playing music with a higher tempo. You dared the fates and turned the volume up a bit louder, enough that the music filled the room wholly, but hopefully didn't cross beyond the threshold of the kitchen.

Satisfied, you returned to the kitchen island with the same deliberation that brought you away from it, only now you stood in front of Copia instead of returning to your seat. This may have been the stupidest, most corny thing you'd ever try, but you couldn't begin to care. You extended your hand towards him without explanation, only choosing to speak when you were met by the utter confusion that spread across Copia's face.

"Come on, get up," you commanded, adrenaline coursing through your veins, hot and roaring. His confusion only deepened as you spoke though, so you continued further. "I know you know how to dance, I've heard it from multiple Siblings, so finish your drink and let’s dance."

If there had been any apprehension on Copia's part— once he understood what you were implying— it had only lasted a fraction of a moment, just barely enough to even register across his flushed face. With one swift motion, he threw back the rest of his drink and discarded the cup haphazardly back onto table, then took your hand.        

There was that same swell of butterflies rising in your stomach as it had earlier, along with it, an electric current that danced on the skin of your palm where your bare hands pressed against each other's most. That wasn't what you were focused on however. In some way that made no sense in terms of reason, you were focused on him and him only, those butterflies would just have to wait.

You pulled him into the largest open area that the kitchen provided and Copia, shoes squeaking across the floor as he stumbled, followed dutifully after you.

What came next was probably some of the stupidest, most embarrassing, down right shameful to mankind and the whole of dance history type of dance moves that you or he had ever witnessed and performed, but neither of you cared. Only Lucifer could judge you both and the absurdness of what had transpired, you just hoped he would have as good of a laugh as you and Copia did.

Exhausted and nearly out of breath, you and Copia rested in each other's arms, swaying to the beat of the music as you listed to each others recovering breaths. The tempo of the music had declined considerably now, the radio station taking on a softer approach now that the night had waned on further. You'd be the last to admit it, but the events of the day were catching up to you— the wine, the slow rhythm at which you rocked, and the gentle, radiating heat that had formed between you and Copia all were starting to put you to sleep.

Laying your head against him, your eyelids began to flutter as you attempted to fight off sleep, only for them to fall shut not moments after the urge to do so arose. You were nearly at the edge of sleep until Copia's voice, hoarse and a bit gravelly from the earlier events, pulled you away.

"Sorry I— uh," he cleared his throat. "For earlier. For… not explaining. It wasn't because I was mad at you or anything like that…"

"I didn't think you were." In a different context, one where you were far less sleepy and able to imbibe in the spiral of overthinking, you would have likely thought exactly that, but right here and now you felt safe, warm, and wanted.

"Oh… well that's, uh, that's good. I wasn't sure." He gave one of those short laughs, the reedy little ones that weren't really a laugh. "I just— awe man, I don't know how to say this… It's just because I got so frustrated seeing him touch you like that."

Your swaying stopping mid beat, suddenly awake enough to fully register his words. You pulled away from Copia so you could look at him directly, not so much that you left each other's arms, but enough that the heat that had grown between your two bodies when they had been pressed against one another dissipated.

"What?" You searched his face for answers, though all you got was a sheepish grimace.

"Terzo— I-I didn't like him bowing and kissing your hand like that."

"Why…?"

Copia gave his reason, though it stood inaudible beyond the first word of 'because'.

"You have to be louder," you stated, not really in the mood to be teased with the answer.

It fell from his lips about as easily as pulling teeth.

"Because… I… wanted… to be the person who, uh, did that… to you…not, uh, him." If Copia had a tendency to shy away from eye contact before, he was doing everything in his power to avoid it now, his eyes frantically glancing everywhere besides at your own.

Your breath caught in your throat with such force that you had to stifle a fit of coughs.

"To me?" You managed to say between uneven breaths, though Copia didn't seem to notice your struggle.

"Yes!" He began to say, far louder than he intended in his moment of panicked babble. "And I don't get why, but seeing him do that made me so, so… jealous?… And his stupid blabbing made it worse!" Copia's words only seemed to spiral further, picking up speed with it. "And, and, and— fuck, is this weird? Am I being weird? Sorry I need to just shut up—"

"I don't think you're being weird," you said plainly, far from registering the true weight of what he was saying, because, if you had, you would be equally as frantic as he was.

"You don't?" His voice was quieter, the words slipping out as a whimper when his eyes— for the first time since you two began to rock together where you stood— met yours. They seemed to almost plead for what you said to be true, his brows creased with worry while his eyes remained wide and searching.

"No."

A wave of relief crossed his face at this, his expression growing softer, less harrowed, until it was abruptly shattered by a look of abject horror. Confusion flooded your brain at this, and with it concern over what in the hell could have caused that kind of reaction from him. You whipped your head left and right, even trying to glance behind you to see if there was another unexpected guest that may have been the cause for his sudden fear, though all you saw before he pushed you an arms length away was the unsubtle way he shot a look down at his sweatpants.

"IIIIIII've gotta get going!" he exclaimed, pulling way from you entirely and making a beeline for the kitchen door before you could even begin to think about what you just saw.

"Wait, what about all the stuff that needs to be cleaned up?" You said in a moment of pure logical clarity. This had Copia marching straight back towards you, then pushing you towards the door.

"Right! Yes! Good point! I'll take care of it! You should get some rest, I'm sure you need it after today!"

He opened the old, creaking door with little care to how much noise it made, then all but nearly shoved you out into the hallway.

"Wait—" you began to say, except you were cut off swiftly by his panicked voice.

"We can talk later! Okay, get back safe. G'dnight!" And with that, the door slammed closed, leaving you in the dim light of the corridor, alone; there was a sound that still managed to bleed out from under the door however— Copia's voice, and the litany of curses and distraught noises that came from it.

Your confusion only mounted as you turned, about to start your not-yet-sober trek back to your room, but that was when it hit you.

The not so subtle check of his sweats, pushing you away, the second-long glance you had got of the tent in his pants as he came back to push you out.

Copia had gotten a boner

And it was because of you.

---

The process of getting back to your room, half undressing, and then crawling into bed was an admitted blur, only further made worse by the fact that the last thing you truly remembered in detail had made everything that followed irrelevant.

It had been your first conscious thought as you woke from your sleep as you subsequently catapulted into a definitely-not-avoided hangover.

Oh fuck. Dear Asmodeus. You'd given Copia a hard-on last night in the midst of a conversation over how he didn't like how Terzo had acted towards you. What in the ever living hell were you supposed to do in response to that? Was it purely accidental, as in, the human body just spontaneously doing things for no reason? Or was it because he actually felt some kind of way towards you?… the conversation that had led up to it could suggest as such but with alcohol involved (and the presence of pure, plain self doubt) you couldn't confidently make that call.

Rolling over in your bed, head reeling and mouth dry, you pawed at your bedside table for your phone, hoping you had put it somewhere close to its usual resting spot when crawling into bed last night. Upon locating the thing (it somehow having ended up underneath your pillow), you opened it to see a text message from Copia— a rare occurrence in its own right. Your stomach lurched at the sight (maybe also from the wine) but you opened it anyways.

It read:

"Had a nice time with you last night. Sorry about Terzo and how it ended (let's not talk about that)… Didn't avoid hangover :( Do you want to get coffee before work?

— Cardinal Copia"

Good to know you were both suffering at least.

You sent a brief text back:

"Sounds good. Be ready in 30"

A long groan came deep from within you, lamenting the day you had ahead, but when you finally rolled out of bed, head aching and world spinning, you couldn't help but be happy.

Notes:

Safe to say, Terzo and Copia are already on rocky footing, even without you involved. Copia being petty and possessive doesn't help matters either