Chapter Text
It had been a long day. They had spent a lot of the day running and hiding from various people and organisations thanks to Flambeau’s ability to tick off every criminal element he meets. Father Brown was quite fed up with it, if Hercule hadn’t been so pig-headed and for once listened to him…
The priest closed the door of the presbytery softly behind them. He let out a huff and stomped up the stairs leaving the ex-thief to do whatever he wanted; he always did anyway. The Father went through his normal nightly routine, seeing as it was past one in the morning he may as well try to finally get some sleep.
He plodded down the stairs again. He’d cleaned his teeth and changed into his pajamas but couldn’t go to bed without saying goodnight to his guest. He walked through the house feeling a little better. He was now warm and clean but still irked by the day's events. He found Hercule sitting at the table in the kitchen. The tea kettle was close to the boil and there were a couple of cups next to the teapot all set on a tray in front of the Frenchman.
“I assumed you’d want tea? Typically British isn’t it? Bad day, have some tea?” Hercule looked up, he looked slightly sheepish, his deep eyes hopeful. Maybe he wanted to apologise about his behaviour today.
“You could be a little less snarky about the British.” Father Brown didn’t want to let his friend off the hook that easily, not without a proper apology.
Father Brown filled the teapot as the kettle whisked shrilly. Taking a seat opposite his friend he sighed once more.
“You were reckless today, Hercule.” The priest gazed up sadly. “You didn’t think about what would happen to those around you, to me.”
“I’ve told you before Mon père, I work better alone. You shouldn’t have interfered.” Hercule lent back in his chair facing the priest.
“I thought you wanted my help, or at least some skill I possess. It’s usually why you seek my company when in the village.” Father Brown looked at his hands to mask how much that fact hurt to admit. He cherished each time he saw Hercule, he worried about him constantly, he followed his movements through Vatican updates and the news. Father Brown poured the tea, doctoring it with milk and sugar for each of them.
“I could do with a lot less of your help.” Hercule was angry, his words felt like knives to the soul. Father Brown looked at him suddenly, head tilted as if trying to work out a difficult puzzle. He sighed.
“All right.” The priest stood, tea untouched. “Goodnight, Hercule.” He turned and swept out of the room with a more dramatic presence than one would expect. He climbed the stairs two at a time and practically ran into his room. Hercule had the spare room over the hall and next to the bathroom so, from here on in, Father Brown felt safe enough to sit on his bed morosely.
Sitting wasn’t helping. He was agitated. Father Brown let out a frustrated huff, he was never this wound up. He got angry sometimes, mostly due to righteous reasons. He got frustrated sometimes due to a tricky crossword clue or chess problem. This however was a completely different feeling; he didn’t know if he wanted to punch Hercule or kiss the infuriating smug smile off his annoyingly handsome face.
And that was entirely the poor priest’s problem. He shouldn’t want to do either of those and yet Hercule Flambeau continued to annoy and arouse him almost in equal measure.
Father Brown began pacing the length of his room, he could not figure this out. What should he do? What could he do? Really he had no option but to go on as he had been. Maybe it’d be best when Hercule left and he was left in Kembleford worrying about his friend again.
Suddenly there was a loud bang as the door to the room was thrown inwards. Hercule stomped his way into the room with the energy of a charging bull.
“What on earth are you doing?” Father Brown was so confused he forgot to be angry.
“I don’t understand you!” The Frenchman was almost shouting, fists clenched in frustration. “I thought you liked adventures, so I came here to include you. But then you decide I’m reckless. Mon dieu! You’re exhausting.”
“I’m exhausting?” The priest puffed his chest out, but stood by the wall at the end of his bed. “You don’t seem to care who you get hurt, provided you have fun. You drag me into your misadventures to follow you around like a puppy and stroke your inflated ego. It’s not my job and I won’t do it again! Next time I could be hurt or, God forbid, killed.”
“I do this job for your precious church! Don’t forget that! You wanted my soul saved, well this is what you’ve got.” Hercule threw his arms wide, breathing hard.
“I wanted you safe!” Father Brown fell silent suddenly. Too close, he thought. “I don’t want to keep doing this until I’m the corpse Sullivan stands over. Go to bed Hercule.”
Father Brown turned towards the bed meaning to go to sleep.
“Oof”
Father Brown was suddenly pinned against his bedroom wall, head smarting a little from the impact. Hercule’s face was millimetres from his own, their noses almost touching.
“I would never let anything like that happen. I would burn the world before allowing you harm. Prêtre insensé.” Hercule closed the tiny distance between them, hands fisted at the priest's dressing gown lapels, lips upon the Father’s with crunching urgency.
Father Brown’s brain seemed to short circuit, he froze trying to understand the last thirty seconds. Hercule pulled back a little, his azure eyes beginning to show fear.
“No! No, I mean, yes, I…” he couldn’t find the words so instead grabbed Hercule’s shoulders and pulled him in again, this time he kissed Hercule with fervour. Hercule held on tightly, as if he was worried the priest would disappear.
Too soon they needed to breathe. They pulled apart both gasping for air, Father Brown took in Hercule’s heaving chest, his lips red from kissing him, eyes bright and realised he’d done that. Slowly a smug smile grew on his face.
“Quoi?” He smiled a little in return. Hercule hadn’t moved far, his hands still on Father Brown’s shoulders. The priest had his hand on Hercule’s waist like they belonged there, and he honestly thought they did.
“Sorry. Nothing.” He trailed a hand up Hercule’s flank, “I’m just a little smug that I could get the great Flambeau all hot and bothered.”
Hercule raised an eyebrow and trailed his hand down the Father's arm to entwine their fingers. “You’ve been managing that for quite some time, Mon Cher.”
He lifted both their hands and planted a sweet kiss on the Father’s knuckles.
“You might have told me.” Father Brown pouted a little. Honestly, Hercule was always flirting with anyone they met and yet he couldn’t be bothered to tell his friend he felt the same as if he couldn’t see Father Brown's emotions written on his face.
“You are a priest.” Hercule lifted his hand to cup Father Brown’s face, “what would you have had me do? I could not compete with God. You took a vow, I wouldn’t ask you to break it.”
Now their breathing had returned to normal and the anger had abated, Father Brown realised what Hercule was saying.
“How long?” The Father’s voice was small, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.
“Since the Santa Cruz.” Hercule slowly disentangled himself from Father Brown and took a step back. The priest looked both shocked and as if he was about to cry.
“The Santa Cruz?” He took a deep breath.
“Mon amour, je t'aime depuis si longtemps.” Hercule took another step back. “I should go. Leave you to sleep. Tomorrow I’ll be leaving to take the box back to the Vatican. Goodnight Father.” He turned and walked back through the door he’d crashed through mere minutes earlier. Closing it quietly, Father Brown heard him retreat to the guest room.
Unsure of what to do, Father Brown sat heavily on his bed. Too many emotions were warring inside of himself. Nothing had actually been resolved, he had still nearly died today because of Hercule’s recklessness. However, now he thought about it there was no way he was going to stop joining Hercule when he asked. He didn’t want to stay at home while his friend came face to face with the world's worst men. He wanted to be with Hercule. He’d always wanted to be with the ex-thief. He wanted to be with him in any way Hercule would have him; and that is a thought that scared Father Brown the most. Somewhere over the last few years, the few meetings, the letters and all those newspaper articles; Father Brown had fallen in love with Hercule Flambeau. And he hadn’t even realised what it was.
“Oh dammit,” Father Brown leapt back to his feet. He crossed the room in two strides and wrenched his door open. He wouldn’t let this be it, the one moment they got, not now he realised everything.
He swiftly marched down the hall to the spare room, he was tempted to ponder the merits of knocking or not but ultimately decided if Hercule can crash into his room then he can do the same.
Before he could think too much about it, Father Brown twisted the door handle and flung the door wide. He stepped over the threshold, pausing for less than a second to see where Hercule was. His eyes landed on the Frenchman sitting atop the large bed, it appeared he’d started to undress, braces no longer in place and his shirt half unbuttoned. Father Brown needed to be closer, so he purposely strode over to him. Seeing the fast approaching priest, Hercule got up.
“Father, I-”
Father Brown didn’t want to talk, so he grabbed Hercule, one hand on the back of his neck and the other round his waist. The ex-thief didn’t fight, he moved willingly into the Father’s embrace as their lips met once more. This kiss was less angry and a lot more passionate. Hercule’s arms went around the Father and fisted in his dressing gown, pulling them as close as they could get.
Father Brown hummed in approval when Hercule’s tongue traced his lips. The priest let him in gladly, tongues battling as their breathing became more ragged.