"Go?"

Nico's brow furrowed in confusion, his anger dissipating slowly, like mist under sunlight. Every thing about Copia seemed small now, child-like again, but not in the same way as before. This was not a little boy crashing action figures into each other - this was someone ashamed. Scared.

And maybe he deserved some of it, yes, of course. He was right, he had been thoughtless, and it was clear he was feeling that - but there was something else. Something older, a deeper wound he'd prodded at unintentionally, and the glimpse of that pain made Nico's stomach twist.

"I don't want you to go, Copia," he said softly, holding a hand out to him, plaintive, imploring. "I-I-" the first word that came to mind was too much, even for him to just glance over internally "-care about you. Deeply. I know you're a good man, I know you're better than this. That's why it hurt."

He moved slowly again, taking his hand, skin to skin, his own fingers taking over the work Copia's had been doing. His thumb pressed firmly into the cup of his palm, his eyes now downcast to his work. He could feel how slick they were with sweat, maybe even the slightest tremble in them.

"...I've never seen you without your gloves," he said softly, trying to steer the conversation somewhere else. "Your hands, they're softer than I thought..." So much about him seemed softer than he'd expected. Vulnerable.

Mm.

Copia mumbled in acknowledgment, unable to come up with anything substantial.

You should be angrier with me. You have every right to.

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to apologize. Two words that should be very easy, were as distant as the sun. Not that he didn’t think he should, but he danced around it, implied it, tried to self-flagellate as a substitute.

I am not as good as you think I am. Look at me.

He waved loosely at himself.

I did not get this job for being a good man. Not even an “okay” one.

You are not all… As tied up in this as me. You do not deserve to be wrapped up in all of my problems.

Copia’s gaze was pained in a way that comes only from time. Lots and lots of time, and even more time to think back on it and wonder how it could have gone better.

It would not be right to do that to you.

He pulled his hand from Nico’s, snapping back to a slightly more normal Copia. One that was a bit more presentable. More put-together.

You should not feel obligated to do this, just because I am your boss.

He wiped his hands on his pant leg, making the faintest suggestion of a joke to play it off.

My hands are sweaty.

"...this isn't because your my boss, Copia."

Those simple words felt like a bigger confession than they should have been. Like he was cracking open his sternum just enough to let Copia see a glimpse of what was inside, just the slightest flash to mirror what he'd accidentally uncovered.

"It's never been about that. And it's not obligation," he added, his gaze falling to where his hands were now clasped tightly in front of him. He brushed his thumb over his knuckles, his brow furrowing slightly. "I mean, if you'd have made me do this-" he motioned to the cabinet, the rolodex "- I would have. You're Frater now, I am a clergyman. It is what it is.

"But this," he continued, glancing almost nervously at Copia, motioning to the space between them. "This isn't - it was never about Frater. Or Papa or Cardinal. It's about my friend."

Copia finally looked up from his shoes and turned to Nico.

I see.

The words sat in the air for a while. Their weight was clear.

Copia’s other hand settled on top of Nico’s and gave it a squeeze.

I have made a big ass of myself, haven’t I? Not that it’s very hard to do.

I’m sorry.

He reached into his pocket and, after a moment of crinkling noises, pulled out two individually-wrapped peppermints that had clearly been in there for a while. He wordlessly offered one to Nico in a cupped hand as a proverbial olive branch, and popped the other into his mouth. He rolled it around his palate in thought.

I hope you know I don’t ever mean you any harm, Nico. Just the opposite. I want you to have fun. Enjoy life. Not take things too seriously, like I did. To have more friends than I did. To be better than I am, someday.

Nico took the mint, the flavor sharp on his tongue. It was refreshing, the palate cleanser it was intended to be, something to help remove the bitterness from his tongue. He hummed softly, rolling the cellophane in his fingers contemplatively, enjoying the crinkle.

"I know, Copia," he said, and he smiled, soft, small. "You just got carried away. To be frank, it's usually charming," he added, turning to glance again at the massive card catalogue. "I must admit, the sheer amount of effort you put into this is impressive. You don't really half ass things. I mean, that's got to weigh, what? Over 150 lbs, easy, just the cabinet."

He didn't say it, given they were patching things up, but he was surprised the old man still had it in him anymore. Hell, he hadn't even thought he had it in him to begin with.

"I might still take that down with me - we should cross reference it with the digital records, see of Sister was hiding anything interesting from us." He paused, shoulders relaxing, that smile sharpening slightly. "And I can always just get you back for this. Maybe I'll change all the contacts on your phone to the same picture and name, let you untangle that. Oh, or I could change your autocorrect, that's always a good one. Email signatures, Siri, the [MESSAGES TO THE CLERGY] - I'm sure I can think of something..."

Copia preened just a bit at that. He perked up slightly, looking sidelong at Nico.

You’ve got to stay fit on tour— sometimes I would help the roadies. Move a few equipment crates around. I did not want to be some primadonna that doesn’t carry his own weight.

That might be a good idea, getting those checked. You never know, with how she was… Is?

He chuckled, shaking his head at Nico.

You forget that us fossils had to memorize people’s phone numbers before we had a contacts list. We didn’t always have a phone book on hand, either. I have plenty of them up here.

He tapped his temple.

Just in case.

Copia smiled.

Besides, if you do anything technological to me, I can get away with it. I can just pretend I’m old and clueless. Just look at how long Nihil got away with his bullshit… I know for a fact he wasn’t as senile as he made himself out to be. You could see it in his eyes. He was just a lazy ass who wanted people to do it all for him.

The verb tense in regards to Sister didn't go over Nico's head, but he didn't comment on it. Grief did things to people, strange, unexpected things - he wouldn't have been surprised to hear Copia still thought of his predecessor - his mother, as the rumor mill had turned put to be true - was still around, though the idea of a supernatural element wouldn't have crossed his mind.

"Oh, I'm sure you could handle yourself," he assured Copia, rolling up his sleeve as he approached the cabinet on its dolly. "That's not the point, is it? The point is to see you sweat a little."

He gripped both sides, brows furrowing as he started to push. He cursed under his breath as it inched forward, his hair falling out of place across his forehead before he stopped to glance back at Copia imploringly. "Speaking of sweat, care to help, Frater?" he asked softly. "You are such a strong, virile stallion, after all. Just to the freight elevator?"

Copia raised an eyebrow, grinning.

You want to see me sweat? Filthy. I see.

He strode over to the cabinet in faux resignation, waving Nico’s wheedling off as he put his gloves back on. He flexed his hands to adjust the fit before placing them on the side of the cabinet.

Alright, alright. Don’t kiss my ass too much, or you get a brown nose, you know.

He grunted lowly, pushing the cabinet out the door and a few feet into the hallway. He turned back to Nico, who still stood in his office, watching wordlessly.

Come on, andiamo. Where are you needing this? The front or the back?

Nico's brain stopped functioning properly for a moment, the low groan and the double entendre not going unnoticed at all. He couldn't be sure if Copia meant it, given the kind of man he was. It wouldn't be the first time he'd done something like this, but Nico's mind could only concentrate on the implications.

And dio scuro, the way he'd said 'filthy', the cock of his brow, the fabric of his jacket stretched taunt across his shoulders as he pushed, the memory of the soft flesh of his hand in his own, knowing the painted curve of his mouth had to taste like mint-

"...anywhere you'd like, sir," he managed, praying to every infernal saint that his face was not as red as it felt.

Copia shrugged.

Alright. The front it is. I thought you might want the cabinet out of the way of visitors, but I am not the archivist here.

He continued to push the cabinet down the hallway towards the freight elevator, teasingly calling to Nico behind him.

You’re going to catch flies, ragazzo… Hurry and press the elevator buttons for me, please.

[END SCENE.]

"Go?"

Nico's brow furrowed in confusion, his anger dissipating slowly, like mist under sunlight. Every thing about Copia seemed small now, child-like again, but not in the same way as before. This was not a little boy crashing action figures into each other - this was someone ashamed. Scared.

And maybe he deserved some of it, yes, of course. He was right, he had been thoughtless, and it was clear he was feeling that - but there was something else. Something older, a deeper wound he'd prodded at unintentionally, and the glimpse of that pain made Nico's stomach twist.

"I don't want you to go, Copia," he said softly, holding a hand out to him, plaintive, imploring. "I-I-" the first word that came to mind was too much, even for him to just glance over internally "-care about you. Deeply. I know you're a good man, I know you're better than this. That's why it hurt."

He moved slowly again, taking his hand, skin to skin, his own fingers taking over the work Copia's had been doing. His thumb pressed firmly into the cup of his palm, his eyes now downcast to his work. He could feel how slick they were with sweat, maybe even the slightest tremble in them.

"...I've never seen you without your gloves," he said softly, trying to steer the conversation somewhere else. "Your hands, they're softer than I thought..." So much about him seemed softer than he'd expected. Vulnerable.

Mm.

Copia mumbled in acknowledgment, unable to come up with anything substantial.

You should be angrier with me. You have every right to.

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to apologize. Two words that should be very easy, were as distant as the sun. Not that he didn’t think he should, but he danced around it, implied it, tried to self-flagellate as a substitute.

I am not as good as you think I am. Look at me.

He waved loosely at himself.

I did not get this job for being a good man. Not even an “okay” one.

You are not all… As tied up in this as me. You do not deserve to be wrapped up in all of my problems.

Copia’s gaze was pained in a way that comes only from time. Lots and lots of time, and even more time to think back on it and wonder how it could have gone better.

It would not be right to do that to you.

He pulled his hand from Nico’s, snapping back to a slightly more normal Copia. One that was a bit more presentable. More put-together.

You should not feel obligated to do this, just because I am your boss.

He wiped his hands on his pant leg, making the faintest suggestion of a joke to play it off.

My hands are sweaty.

"...this isn't because your my boss, Copia."

Those simple words felt like a bigger confession than they should have been. Like he was cracking open his sternum just enough to let Copia see a glimpse of what was inside, just the slightest flash to mirror what he'd accidentally uncovered.

"It's never been about that. And it's not obligation," he added, his gaze falling to where his hands were now clasped tightly in front of him. He brushed his thumb over his knuckles, his brow furrowing slightly. "I mean, if you'd have made me do this-" he motioned to the cabinet, the rolodex "- I would have. You're Frater now, I am a clergyman. It is what it is.

"But this," he continued, glancing almost nervously at Copia, motioning to the space between them. "This isn't - it was never about Frater. Or Papa or Cardinal. It's about my friend."

Copia finally looked up from his shoes and turned to Nico.

I see.

The words sat in the air for a while. Their weight was clear.

Copia’s other hand settled on top of Nico’s and gave it a squeeze.

I have made a big ass of myself, haven’t I? Not that it’s very hard to do.

I’m sorry.

He reached into his pocket and, after a moment of crinkling noises, pulled out two individually-wrapped peppermints that had clearly been in there for a while. He wordlessly offered one to Nico in a cupped hand as a proverbial olive branch, and popped the other into his mouth. He rolled it around his palate in thought.

I hope you know I don’t ever mean you any harm, Nico. Just the opposite. I want you to have fun. Enjoy life. Not take things too seriously, like I did. To have more friends than I did. To be better than I am, someday.

Nico took the mint, the flavor sharp on his tongue. It was refreshing, the palate cleanser it was intended to be, something to help remove the bitterness from his tongue. He hummed softly, rolling the cellophane in his fingers contemplatively, enjoying the crinkle.

"I know, Copia," he said, and he smiled, soft, small. "You just got carried away. To be frank, it's usually charming," he added, turning to glance again at the massive card catalogue. "I must admit, the sheer amount of effort you put into this is impressive. You don't really half ass things. I mean, that's got to weigh, what? Over 150 lbs, easy, just the cabinet."

He didn't say it, given they were patching things up, but he was surprised the old man still had it in him anymore. Hell, he hadn't even thought he had it in him to begin with.

"I might still take that down with me - we should cross reference it with the digital records, see of Sister was hiding anything interesting from us." He paused, shoulders relaxing, that smile sharpening slightly. "And I can always just get you back for this. Maybe I'll change all the contacts on your phone to the same picture and name, let you untangle that. Oh, or I could change your autocorrect, that's always a good one. Email signatures, Siri, the [MESSAGES TO THE CLERGY] - I'm sure I can think of something..."

Copia preened just a bit at that. He perked up slightly, looking sidelong at Nico.

You’ve got to stay fit on tour— sometimes I would help the roadies. Move a few equipment crates around. I did not want to be some primadonna that doesn’t carry his own weight.

That might be a good idea, getting those checked. You never know, with how she was… Is?

He chuckled, shaking his head at Nico.

You forget that us fossils had to memorize people’s phone numbers before we had a contacts list. We didn’t always have a phone book on hand, either. I have plenty of them up here.

He tapped his temple.

Just in case.

Copia smiled.

Besides, if you do anything technological to me, I can get away with it. I can just pretend I’m old and clueless. Just look at how long Nihil got away with his bullshit… I know for a fact he wasn’t as senile as he made himself out to be. You could see it in his eyes. He was just a lazy ass who wanted people to do it all for him.

The verb tense in regards to Sister didn't go over Nico's head, but he didn't comment on it. Grief did things to people, strange, unexpected things - he wouldn't have been surprised to hear Copia still thought of his predecessor - his mother, as the rumor mill had turned put to be true - was still around, though the idea of a supernatural element wouldn't have crossed his mind.

"Oh, I'm sure you could handle yourself," he assured Copia, rolling up his sleeve as he approached the cabinet on its dolly. "That's not the point, is it? The point is to see you sweat a little."

He gripped both sides, brows furrowing as he started to push. He cursed under his breath as it inched forward, his hair falling out of place across his forehead before he stopped to glance back at Copia imploringly. "Speaking of sweat, care to help, Frater?" he asked softly. "You are such a strong, virile stallion, after all. Just to the freight elevator?"

Copia raised an eyebrow, grinning.

You want to see me sweat? Filthy. I see.

He strode over to the cabinet in faux resignation, waving Nico’s wheedling off as he put his gloves back on. He flexed his hands to adjust the fit before placing them on the side of the cabinet.

Alright, alright. Don’t kiss my ass too much, or you get a brown nose, you know.

He grunted lowly, pushing the cabinet out the door and a few feet into the hallway. He turned back to Nico, who still stood in his office, watching wordlessly.

Come on, andiamo. Where are you needing this? The front or the back?

Nico's brain stopped functioning properly for a moment, the low groan and the double entendre not going unnoticed at all. He couldn't be sure if Copia meant it, given the kind of man he was. It wouldn't be the first time he'd done something like this, but Nico's mind could only concentrate on the implications.

And dio scuro, the way he'd said 'filthy', the cock of his brow, the fabric of his jacket stretched taunt across his shoulders as he pushed, the memory of the soft flesh of his hand in his own, knowing the painted curve of his mouth had to taste like mint-

"...anywhere you'd like, sir," he managed, praying to every infernal saint that his face was not as red as it felt.

"Go?"

Nico's brow furrowed in confusion, his anger dissipating slowly, like mist under sunlight. Every thing about Copia seemed small now, child-like again, but not in the same way as before. This was not a little boy crashing action figures into each other - this was someone ashamed. Scared.

And maybe he deserved some of it, yes, of course. He was right, he had been thoughtless, and it was clear he was feeling that - but there was something else. Something older, a deeper wound he'd prodded at unintentionally, and the glimpse of that pain made Nico's stomach twist.

"I don't want you to go, Copia," he said softly, holding a hand out to him, plaintive, imploring. "I-I-" the first word that came to mind was too much, even for him to just glance over internally "-care about you. Deeply. I know you're a good man, I know you're better than this. That's why it hurt."

He moved slowly again, taking his hand, skin to skin, his own fingers taking over the work Copia's had been doing. His thumb pressed firmly into the cup of his palm, his eyes now downcast to his work. He could feel how slick they were with sweat, maybe even the slightest tremble in them.

"...I've never seen you without your gloves," he said softly, trying to steer the conversation somewhere else. "Your hands, they're softer than I thought..." So much about him seemed softer than he'd expected. Vulnerable.

Mm.

Copia mumbled in acknowledgment, unable to come up with anything substantial.

You should be angrier with me. You have every right to.

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to apologize. Two words that should be very easy, were as distant as the sun. Not that he didn’t think he should, but he danced around it, implied it, tried to self-flagellate as a substitute.

I am not as good as you think I am. Look at me.

He waved loosely at himself.

I did not get this job for being a good man. Not even an “okay” one.

You are not all… As tied up in this as me. You do not deserve to be wrapped up in all of my problems.

Copia’s gaze was pained in a way that comes only from time. Lots and lots of time, and even more time to think back on it and wonder how it could have gone better.

It would not be right to do that to you.

He pulled his hand from Nico’s, snapping back to a slightly more normal Copia. One that was a bit more presentable. More put-together.

You should not feel obligated to do this, just because I am your boss.

He wiped his hands on his pant leg, making the faintest suggestion of a joke to play it off.

My hands are sweaty.

"...this isn't because your my boss, Copia."

Those simple words felt like a bigger confession than they should have been. Like he was cracking open his sternum just enough to let Copia see a glimpse of what was inside, just the slightest flash to mirror what he'd accidentally uncovered.

"It's never been about that. And it's not obligation," he added, his gaze falling to where his hands were now clasped tightly in front of him. He brushed his thumb over his knuckles, his brow furrowing slightly. "I mean, if you'd have made me do this-" he motioned to the cabinet, the rolodex "- I would have. You're Frater now, I am a clergyman. It is what it is.

"But this," he continued, glancing almost nervously at Copia, motioning to the space between them. "This isn't - it was never about Frater. Or Papa or Cardinal. It's about my friend."

Copia finally looked up from his shoes and turned to Nico.

I see.

The words sat in the air for a while. Their weight was clear.

Copia’s other hand settled on top of Nico’s and gave it a squeeze.

I have made a big ass of myself, haven’t I? Not that it’s very hard to do.

I’m sorry.

He reached into his pocket and, after a moment of crinkling noises, pulled out two individually-wrapped peppermints that had clearly been in there for a while. He wordlessly offered one to Nico in a cupped hand as a proverbial olive branch, and popped the other into his mouth. He rolled it around his palate in thought.

I hope you know I don’t ever mean you any harm, Nico. Just the opposite. I want you to have fun. Enjoy life. Not take things too seriously, like I did. To have more friends than I did. To be better than I am, someday.

Nico took the mint, the flavor sharp on his tongue. It was refreshing, the palate cleanser it was intended to be, something to help remove the bitterness from his tongue. He hummed softly, rolling the cellophane in his fingers contemplatively, enjoying the crinkle.

"I know, Copia," he said, and he smiled, soft, small. "You just got carried away. To be frank, it's usually charming," he added, turning to glance again at the massive card catalogue. "I must admit, the sheer amount of effort you put into this is impressive. You don't really half ass things. I mean, that's got to weigh, what? Over 150 lbs, easy, just the cabinet."

He didn't say it, given they were patching things up, but he was surprised the old man still had it in him anymore. Hell, he hadn't even thought he had it in him to begin with.

"I might still take that down with me - we should cross reference it with the digital records, see of Sister was hiding anything interesting from us." He paused, shoulders relaxing, that smile sharpening slightly. "And I can always just get you back for this. Maybe I'll change all the contacts on your phone to the same picture and name, let you untangle that. Oh, or I could change your autocorrect, that's always a good one. Email signatures, Siri, the [MESSAGES TO THE CLERGY] - I'm sure I can think of something..."

Copia preened just a bit at that. He perked up slightly, looking sidelong at Nico.

You’ve got to stay fit on tour— sometimes I would help the roadies. Move a few equipment crates around. I did not want to be some primadonna that doesn’t carry his own weight.

That might be a good idea, getting those checked. You never know, with how she was… Is?

He chuckled, shaking his head at Nico.

You forget that us fossils had to memorize people’s phone numbers before we had a contacts list. We didn’t always have a phone book on hand, either. I have plenty of them up here.

He tapped his temple.

Just in case.

Copia smiled.

Besides, if you do anything technological to me, I can get away with it. I can just pretend I’m old and clueless. Just look at how long Nihil got away with his bullshit… I know for a fact he wasn’t as senile as he made himself out to be. You could see it in his eyes. He was just a lazy ass who wanted people to do it all for him.

The verb tense in regards to Sister didn't go over Nico's head, but he didn't comment on it. Grief did things to people, strange, unexpected things - he wouldn't have been surprised to hear Copia still thought of his predecessor - his mother, as the rumor mill had turned put to be true - was still around, though the idea of a supernatural element wouldn't have crossed his mind.

"Oh, I'm sure you could handle yourself," he assured Copia, rolling up his sleeve as he approached the cabinet on its dolly. "That's not the point, is it? The point is to see you sweat a little."

He gripped both sides, brows furrowing as he started to push. He cursed under his breath as it inched forward, his hair falling out of place across his forehead before he stopped to glance back at Copia imploringly. "Speaking of sweat, care to help, Frater?" he asked softly. "You are such a strong, virile stallion, after all. Just to the freight elevator?"

"Go?"

Nico's brow furrowed in confusion, his anger dissipating slowly, like mist under sunlight. Every thing about Copia seemed small now, child-like again, but not in the same way as before. This was not a little boy crashing action figures into each other - this was someone ashamed. Scared.

And maybe he deserved some of it, yes, of course. He was right, he had been thoughtless, and it was clear he was feeling that - but there was something else. Something older, a deeper wound he'd prodded at unintentionally, and the glimpse of that pain made Nico's stomach twist.

"I don't want you to go, Copia," he said softly, holding a hand out to him, plaintive, imploring. "I-I-" the first word that came to mind was too much, even for him to just glance over internally "-care about you. Deeply. I know you're a good man, I know you're better than this. That's why it hurt."

He moved slowly again, taking his hand, skin to skin, his own fingers taking over the work Copia's had been doing. His thumb pressed firmly into the cup of his palm, his eyes now downcast to his work. He could feel how slick they were with sweat, maybe even the slightest tremble in them.

"...I've never seen you without your gloves," he said softly, trying to steer the conversation somewhere else. "Your hands, they're softer than I thought..." So much about him seemed softer than he'd expected. Vulnerable.

Mm.

Copia mumbled in acknowledgment, unable to come up with anything substantial.

You should be angrier with me. You have every right to.

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to apologize. Two words that should be very easy, were as distant as the sun. Not that he didn’t think he should, but he danced around it, implied it, tried to self-flagellate as a substitute.

I am not as good as you think I am. Look at me.

He waved loosely at himself.

I did not get this job for being a good man. Not even an “okay” one.

You are not all… As tied up in this as me. You do not deserve to be wrapped up in all of my problems.

Copia’s gaze was pained in a way that comes only from time. Lots and lots of time, and even more time to think back on it and wonder how it could have gone better.

It would not be right to do that to you.

He pulled his hand from Nico’s, snapping back to a slightly more normal Copia. One that was a bit more presentable. More put-together.

You should not feel obligated to do this, just because I am your boss.

He wiped his hands on his pant leg, making the faintest suggestion of a joke to play it off.

My hands are sweaty.

"...this isn't because your my boss, Copia."

Those simple words felt like a bigger confession than they should have been. Like he was cracking open his sternum just enough to let Copia see a glimpse of what was inside, just the slightest flash to mirror what he'd accidentally uncovered.

"It's never been about that. And it's not obligation," he added, his gaze falling to where his hands were now clasped tightly in front of him. He brushed his thumb over his knuckles, his brow furrowing slightly. "I mean, if you'd have made me do this-" he motioned to the cabinet, the rolodex "- I would have. You're Frater now, I am a clergyman. It is what it is.

"But this," he continued, glancing almost nervously at Copia, motioning to the space between them. "This isn't - it was never about Frater. Or Papa or Cardinal. It's about my friend."

Copia finally looked up from his shoes and turned to Nico.

I see.

The words sat in the air for a while. Their weight was clear.

Copia’s other hand settled on top of Nico’s and gave it a squeeze.

I have made a big ass of myself, haven’t I? Not that it’s very hard to do.

I’m sorry.

He reached into his pocket and, after a moment of crinkling noises, pulled out two individually-wrapped peppermints that had clearly been in there for a while. He wordlessly offered one to Nico in a cupped hand as a proverbial olive branch, and popped the other into his mouth. He rolled it around his palate in thought.

I hope you know I don’t ever mean you any harm, Nico. Just the opposite. I want you to have fun. Enjoy life. Not take things too seriously, like I did. To have more friends than I did. To be better than I am, someday.

Nico took the mint, the flavor sharp on his tongue. It was refreshing, the palate cleanser it was intended to be, something to help remove the bitterness from his tongue. He hummed softly, rolling the cellophane in his fingers contemplatively, enjoying the crinkle.

"I know, Copia," he said, and he smiled, soft, small. "You just got carried away. To be frank, it's usually charming," he added, turning to glance again at the massive card catalogue. "I must admit, the sheer amount of effort you put into this is impressive. You don't really half ass things. I mean, that's got to weigh, what? Over 150 lbs, easy, just the cabinet."

He didn't say it, given they were patching things up, but he was surprised the old man still had it in him anymore. Hell, he hadn't even thought he had it in him to begin with.

"I might still take that down with me - we should cross reference it with the digital records, see of Sister was hiding anything interesting from us." He paused, shoulders relaxing, that smile sharpening slightly. "And I can always just get you back for this. Maybe I'll change all the contacts on your phone to the same picture and name, let you untangle that. Oh, or I could change your autocorrect, that's always a good one. Email signatures, Siri, the [MESSAGES TO THE CLERGY] - I'm sure I can think of something..."

All tangled up, inspired by a thread with @popiacopia

Sinday version for fun

"Go?"

Nico's brow furrowed in confusion, his anger dissipating slowly, like mist under sunlight. Every thing about Copia seemed small now, child-like again, but not in the same way as before. This was not a little boy crashing action figures into each other - this was someone ashamed. Scared.

And maybe he deserved some of it, yes, of course. He was right, he had been thoughtless, and it was clear he was feeling that - but there was something else. Something older, a deeper wound he'd prodded at unintentionally, and the glimpse of that pain made Nico's stomach twist.

"I don't want you to go, Copia," he said softly, holding a hand out to him, plaintive, imploring. "I-I-" the first word that came to mind was too much, even for him to just glance over internally "-care about you. Deeply. I know you're a good man, I know you're better than this. That's why it hurt."

He moved slowly again, taking his hand, skin to skin, his own fingers taking over the work Copia's had been doing. His thumb pressed firmly into the cup of his palm, his eyes now downcast to his work. He could feel how slick they were with sweat, maybe even the slightest tremble in them.

"...I've never seen you without your gloves," he said softly, trying to steer the conversation somewhere else. "Your hands, they're softer than I thought..." So much about him seemed softer than he'd expected. Vulnerable.

Mm.

Copia mumbled in acknowledgment, unable to come up with anything substantial.

You should be angrier with me. You have every right to.

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to apologize. Two words that should be very easy, were as distant as the sun. Not that he didn’t think he should, but he danced around it, implied it, tried to self-flagellate as a substitute.

I am not as good as you think I am. Look at me.

He waved loosely at himself.

I did not get this job for being a good man. Not even an “okay” one.

You are not all… As tied up in this as me. You do not deserve to be wrapped up in all of my problems.

Copia’s gaze was pained in a way that comes only from time. Lots and lots of time, and even more time to think back on it and wonder how it could have gone better.

It would not be right to do that to you.

He pulled his hand from Nico’s, snapping back to a slightly more normal Copia. One that was a bit more presentable. More put-together.

You should not feel obligated to do this, just because I am your boss.

He wiped his hands on his pant leg, making the faintest suggestion of a joke to play it off.

My hands are sweaty.

"...this isn't because your my boss, Copia."

Those simple words felt like a bigger confession than they should have been. Like he was cracking open his sternum just enough to let Copia see a glimpse of what was inside, just the slightest flash to mirror what he'd accidentally uncovered.

"It's never been about that. And it's not obligation," he added, his gaze falling to where his hands were now clasped tightly in front of him. He brushed his thumb over his knuckles, his brow furrowing slightly. "I mean, if you'd have made me do this-" he motioned to the cabinet, the rolodex "- I would have. You're Frater now, I am a clergyman. It is what it is.

"But this," he continued, glancing almost nervously at Copia, motioning to the space between them. "This isn't - it was never about Frater. Or Papa or Cardinal. It's about my friend."

"Go?"

Nico's brow furrowed in confusion, his anger dissipating slowly, like mist under sunlight. Every thing about Copia seemed small now, child-like again, but not in the same way as before. This was not a little boy crashing action figures into each other - this was someone ashamed. Scared.

And maybe he deserved some of it, yes, of course. He was right, he had been thoughtless, and it was clear he was feeling that - but there was something else. Something older, a deeper wound he'd prodded at unintentionally, and the glimpse of that pain made Nico's stomach twist.

"I don't want you to go, Copia," he said softly, holding a hand out to him, plaintive, imploring. "I-I-" the first word that came to mind was too much, even for him to just glance over internally "-care about you. Deeply. I know you're a good man, I know you're better than this. That's why it hurt."

He moved slowly again, taking his hand, skin to skin, his own fingers taking over the work Copia's had been doing. His thumb pressed firmly into the cup of his palm, his eyes now downcast to his work. He could feel how slick they were with sweat, maybe even the slightest tremble in them.

"...I've never seen you without your gloves," he said softly, trying to steer the conversation somewhere else. "Your hands, they're softer than I thought..." So much about him seemed softer than he'd expected. Vulnerable.

Nico's frown deepened with each new addition, the crease between his brows growing deeper, his jaw clenched tight. Each new item felt like a physical strike, another weight added to what felt like an already insurmountable - and absolutely ridiculous - punishment. The phone had been bad enough, but a rolodex? The physical card catalogues? While part of him couldn't help admiring the resourcefulness of keeping them (and, frankly, the strength it took to drag the damn thing in), he wanted nothing more than to light the thing on fire.

He bristled at Copia's touch, and it hurt, even if it was involuntary. He didn't like seeing his Papa - Frater, he was Frater now - like this, didn't like feeling this way about him. Frustration and impotent rage prickled under his skin, irritated by the pressure of his arm, a sharp contrast to the comfort their fleeting touches usually gave him.

"...you know I respect you, Copia - and with all due respect, why are you doing this?" He slipped out from under Copia's arm, but held his gaze, defiant despite his better judgement. "All of this - so much work for what? Because I teased you a little?"

Copia’s face dropped. He looked down at Nico intently, confused and concerned.

What do you mean? You know I am just joking, right?

This was— this was supposed to be for fun.

He gestured to the cabinet.

I would not actually make you do this. I would have put it down there for you to be a little worried, yes, but I would not make you use it. Not for a long time, at least. Maybe an hour?

Copia deflated, embarrassed.

It would make my job just as hard as yours, Nico. I do not actually want you or your friends to struggle. It would be bad for everybody. Your job is important.

He continued speaking, faster, quieter, and more embarrassed with each word.

I was going to give you the box of your things back once everything was delivered downstairs... I did not think about your assistants and coworkers.

He was desperate.

I was trying to do it to you, specifically. Not your partners.

Well.

Not that that is better.

It got too fast and out of my hands, I mean—

I, um. Did not think it would get as far as your whole office.

I was just going to—

Um. It was not supposed to be this serious.

I thought it would be funny for maybe… A few minutes.

Not for two weeks.

Yes.

It was a bad idea.

Nico's brow only crinkled more, though there was confusion there too. Dio scuro, the man was like a child! It should have made him angrier, and part of him wanted to shout at him, tell him what a fool he'd been, how terribly he'd been behaving - this and the hissy fits over his brother, it was all entirely unbecoming of a man his age, let alone of his stature! Wrath, after all, was a cardinal sin, a virtue they were taught to lean into as much as any other.

But he didn't shout.

He didn't have to.

"You made a rash decision based on your emotions," Nico said, voice cold, steady, like the drip-drip-drip of water on stone. And as he held Copia's gaze, his own iron solid, he may as well have held his face under the unrelenting stream. "Because you were insulted, your ego bruised, and instead saying something like an adult, you decided to make an example of me. To act a tyrant. You didn't consider anyone but yourself - not your staff, not me, just decided to punish me like a child.

"Even when you apologize, you bring up that it would make your job harder first. And yes, maybe I pushed a bit, and I can apologize for that, but this was your reaction?" He gestured to the cabinets, his hands falling heavily to his sides, his own cadance picking up. "I would have rather you taken me over your knee if you wanted to humiliate me so badly, at least then only I would've been embarrassed instead of the entire archives getting riled up trying to figure out how to coordinate the next two weeks of work without the tools we need. Hell, something like that would've even felt like part of the game, not all this - making me go in front of my colleagues and explain I'd upset Frater, so now we've all got to suffer for it. Do you know what that felt like? Did you even think about that?

"You're a grown man, Copia, twice my age - and that's not a slight," he added, his rant falling short for a moment. He took a deep breath, the anger in his expression softening into something worse - a tired disappointment. "Just... Satanas, couldn't you act like it sometimes? Couldn't you have just said something if it bothered you?"

Copia’s mouth opened.

Then closed.

Opened, a finger raised.

And closed.

I—

He felt like he was going to vomit. The shame boiled and rolled inside him like bile. Or maybe it really was bile. He clenched his jaw without thinking, trying to hold it together.

He wanted to apologize, he really, truly did. More than he could explain. But the full realization of what he’d done to poor Nico slamming down onto him, it paralyzed him completely— everything except the churning of his stomach, unfortunately.

Um.

He swallowed.

I need to leave.

He said this like he was about to move, and he wanted to. He wanted to run into the nearest closet and lock the door. But he couldn’t.

He just stood there, jaw clenched, frozen, frightened, ashamed, and feeling very, very small. So small, he wished someone would just get it over with and step on him like an insect. Anything would be better than this.

Nico was angry, he was, and maybe that's why he didn't notice immediately how Copia seemed to simply stop. Stopped Moving, stopped talking, he was suddenly, almost eerily still except for the shifting color in his face. But he definitely heard the way his voice wavered, small, quiet, and his eyes widened slightly.

The man looked like he might cry, and it caught him entirely off guard.

For a moment, they were silent, the air vibrating between them. Then, he reached for him.

"Papa - Copia."

He said it softly, carefully, the way one speaks to a spooked animal. He reached for him, tentatively. He hadn't really touched him like this before, had he? Hadn't taken his hand like he did now, warm skin against cool leather - it had never felt appropriate, even when they'd been dancing around whatever the hell this was for some time now.

He closed his hands around one of Copia's, holding it carefully, like it might break if he was too rough. He brushed his thumb softly over it.

"Breathe, Copia. Please."

Nico's frown deepened with each new addition, the crease between his brows growing deeper, his jaw clenched tight. Each new item felt like a physical strike, another weight added to what felt like an already insurmountable - and absolutely ridiculous - punishment. The phone had been bad enough, but a rolodex? The physical card catalogues? While part of him couldn't help admiring the resourcefulness of keeping them (and, frankly, the strength it took to drag the damn thing in), he wanted nothing more than to light the thing on fire.

He bristled at Copia's touch, and it hurt, even if it was involuntary. He didn't like seeing his Papa - Frater, he was Frater now - like this, didn't like feeling this way about him. Frustration and impotent rage prickled under his skin, irritated by the pressure of his arm, a sharp contrast to the comfort their fleeting touches usually gave him.

"...you know I respect you, Copia - and with all due respect, why are you doing this?" He slipped out from under Copia's arm, but held his gaze, defiant despite his better judgement. "All of this - so much work for what? Because I teased you a little?"

Copia’s face dropped. He looked down at Nico intently, confused and concerned.

What do you mean? You know I am just joking, right?

This was— this was supposed to be for fun.

He gestured to the cabinet.

I would not actually make you do this. I would have put it down there for you to be a little worried, yes, but I would not make you use it. Not for a long time, at least. Maybe an hour?

Copia deflated, embarrassed.

It would make my job just as hard as yours, Nico. I do not actually want you or your friends to struggle. It would be bad for everybody. Your job is important.

He continued speaking, faster, quieter, and more embarrassed with each word.

I was going to give you the box of your things back once everything was delivered downstairs... I did not think about your assistants and coworkers.

He was desperate.

I was trying to do it to you, specifically. Not your partners.

Well.

Not that that is better.

It got too fast and out of my hands, I mean—

I, um. Did not think it would get as far as your whole office.

I was just going to—

Um. It was not supposed to be this serious.

I thought it would be funny for maybe… A few minutes.

Not for two weeks.

Yes.

It was a bad idea.

Nico's brow only crinkled more, though there was confusion there too. Dio scuro, the man was like a child! It should have made him angrier, and part of him wanted to shout at him, tell him what a fool he'd been, how terribly he'd been behaving - this and the hissy fits over his brother, it was all entirely unbecoming of a man his age, let alone of his stature! Wrath, after all, was a cardinal sin, a virtue they were taught to lean into as much as any other.

But he didn't shout.

He didn't have to.

"You made a rash decision based on your emotions," Nico said, voice cold, steady, like the drip-drip-drip of water on stone. And as he held Copia's gaze, his own iron solid, he may as well have held his face under the unrelenting stream. "Because you were insulted, your ego bruised, and instead saying something like an adult, you decided to make an example of me. To act a tyrant. You didn't consider anyone but yourself - not your staff, not me, just decided to punish me like a child.

"Even when you apologize, you bring up that it would make your job harder first. And yes, maybe I pushed a bit, and I can apologize for that, but this was your reaction?" He gestured to the cabinets, his hands falling heavily to his sides, his own cadance picking up. "I would have rather you taken me over your knee if you wanted to humiliate me so badly, at least then only I would've been embarrassed instead of the entire archives getting riled up trying to figure out how to coordinate the next two weeks of work without the tools we need. Hell, something like that would've even felt like part of the game, not all this - making me go in front of my colleagues and explain I'd upset Frater, so now we've all got to suffer for it. Do you know what that felt like? Did you even think about that?

"You're a grown man, Copia, twice my age - and that's not a slight," he added, his rant falling short for a moment. He took a deep breath, the anger in his expression softening into something worse - a tired disappointment. "Just... Satanas, couldn't you act like it sometimes? Couldn't you have just said something if it bothered you?"

Nico's frown deepened with each new addition, the crease between his brows growing deeper, his jaw clenched tight. Each new item felt like a physical strike, another weight added to what felt like an already insurmountable - and absolutely ridiculous - punishment. The phone had been bad enough, but a rolodex? The physical card catalogues? While part of him couldn't help admiring the resourcefulness of keeping them (and, frankly, the strength it took to drag the damn thing in), he wanted nothing more than to light the thing on fire.

He bristled at Copia's touch, and it hurt, even if it was involuntary. He didn't like seeing his Papa - Frater, he was Frater now - like this, didn't like feeling this way about him. Frustration and impotent rage prickled under his skin, irritated by the pressure of his arm, a sharp contrast to the comfort their fleeting touches usually gave him.

"...you know I respect you, Copia - and with all due respect, why are you doing this?" He slipped out from under Copia's arm, but held his gaze, defiant despite his better judgement. "All of this - so much work for what? Because I teased you a little?"

I am young, and wild, and free, like a mustang, as we discussed.

Yes, yes, like a mustang, but, perhaps the mustang may have... Overlapping needs with certain demographics. Like the one that knows who Tommy Tutone is...

Tommy Tutone is not old, you just don’t know good music. Everybody knows 867-5309. They play it at weddings all the time! Tell me you have never been to a wedding before, or maybe you have only just recently grown a pair of ears. That is the only way I will believe you don’t know it.

Next you will tell me I need a rotary dial. Or perhaps a telegraph. Or maybe even a cave painting showing me how to hunt wild buffalo with a spear! How old do you think I am? Do you think Fred Flintstone was my next door neighbor as a child? Do you want me to drive a stone car that I push with my feet to work every day, sir?

No. I am Steve Jobs now. I can do anything I want with the phone. I don’t need buttons anymore. I am above those things.

....Frater, my dear, my good, wonderful friend

Tell me, how do you take a screenshot on your new phone?

I don’t have to justify myself to you.

You are in my office. I ask the questions. How do you use WYSIWYG programs on MS-DOS? Do you even know what WYSIWYG means? Or how to say it out loud?

Exactly what I thought.

.... What you see is what you get?

Fuck you.

not with that attitude

That’s two weeks of a landline in the archives. Corded. Effective now. No more work smartphone.

I’m sure you will enjoy it! It’s historic, you love that kind of thing as an archivist.

Nico's mouth fell open in indignation, only to snap shut, his brow furrowing despite his best efforts. "... you're serious. Papa - Frater - Copia, please, I was just teasing."

I am young, and wild, and free, like a mustang, as we discussed.

Yes, yes, like a mustang, but, perhaps the mustang may have... Overlapping needs with certain demographics. Like the one that knows who Tommy Tutone is...

Tommy Tutone is not old, you just don’t know good music. Everybody knows 867-5309. They play it at weddings all the time! Tell me you have never been to a wedding before, or maybe you have only just recently grown a pair of ears. That is the only way I will believe you don’t know it.

Next you will tell me I need a rotary dial. Or perhaps a telegraph. Or maybe even a cave painting showing me how to hunt wild buffalo with a spear! How old do you think I am? Do you think Fred Flintstone was my next door neighbor as a child? Do you want me to drive a stone car that I push with my feet to work every day, sir?

No. I am Steve Jobs now. I can do anything I want with the phone. I don’t need buttons anymore. I am above those things.

....Frater, my dear, my good, wonderful friend

Tell me, how do you take a screenshot on your new phone?

I don’t have to justify myself to you.

You are in my office. I ask the questions. How do you use WYSIWYG programs on MS-DOS? Do you even know what WYSIWYG means? Or how to say it out loud?

Exactly what I thought.

.... What you see is what you get?

Fuck you.

not with that attitude

I am young, and wild, and free, like a mustang, as we discussed.

Yes, yes, like a mustang, but, perhaps the mustang may have... Overlapping needs with certain demographics. Like the one that knows who Tommy Tutone is...

Tommy Tutone is not old, you just don’t know good music. Everybody knows 867-5309. They play it at weddings all the time! Tell me you have never been to a wedding before, or maybe you have only just recently grown a pair of ears. That is the only way I will believe you don’t know it.

Next you will tell me I need a rotary dial. Or perhaps a telegraph. Or maybe even a cave painting showing me how to hunt wild buffalo with a spear! How old do you think I am? Do you think Fred Flintstone was my next door neighbor as a child? Do you want me to drive a stone car that I push with my feet to work every day, sir?

No. I am Steve Jobs now. I can do anything I want with the phone. I don’t need buttons anymore. I am above those things.

....Frater, my dear, my good, wonderful friend

Tell me, how do you take a screenshot on your new phone?

I don’t have to justify myself to you.

You are in my office. I ask the questions. How do you use WYSIWYG programs on MS-DOS? Do you even know what WYSIWYG means? Or how to say it out loud?

Exactly what I thought.

.... What you see is what you get?

I am young, and wild, and free, like a mustang, as we discussed.

Yes, yes, like a mustang, but, perhaps the mustang may have... Overlapping needs with certain demographics. Like the one that knows who Tommy Tutone is...

Tommy Tutone is not old, you just don’t know good music. Everybody knows 867-5309. They play it at weddings all the time! Tell me you have never been to a wedding before, or maybe you have only just recently grown a pair of ears. That is the only way I will believe you don’t know it.

Next you will tell me I need a rotary dial. Or perhaps a telegraph. Or maybe even a cave painting showing me how to hunt wild buffalo with a spear! How old do you think I am? Do you think Fred Flintstone was my next door neighbor as a child? Do you want me to drive a stone car that I push with my feet to work every day, sir?

No. I am Steve Jobs now. I can do anything I want with the phone. I don’t need buttons anymore. I am above those things.

....Frater, my dear, my good, wonderful friend

Tell me, how do you take a screenshot on your new phone?

I am young, and wild, and free, like a mustang, as we discussed.

Yes, yes, like a mustang, but, perhaps the mustang may have... Overlapping needs with certain demographics. Like the one that knows who Tommy Tutone is...

@from-the-pinnacle

Nico sweetie csn you brig me three advil and also my egg roll order its at the front door

Pleaae

I do not want to throw up on Jaime

and also I found the rats

Of course I can, Frater, and plenty of water. I'm glad the babies are all safe and sound.

Wait... Did he just call me sweetie...?!?!

Okay, Mr. Italian Stallion, you still haven't explained the shoes.

…….They are my hooves.

Frater, you do not have hooves, you're a human person! Or... At least, I was under the impression you were mostly human, at minimum...