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beeeinyourbonnet · 29 days ago

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Covetous | Epilogue

Pairing: Nostelle

Rating: E

Summary: Father Joseph MacAvoy wakes up in a library across town with no idea of how he got there. When the kind librarian doesn’t kick him out immediately, he considers that maybe there’s more to life than alcohol.

[chapter 1] [chapter 2] [chapter 3] [chapter 4] [chapter 5] [chapter 6] [chapter 7] [chapter 8] [chapter 9] [chapter 10] [chapter 11] [chapter 12] [chapter 13] [chapter 14] [chapter 15] [chapter 16] [chapter 17] [chapter 18] [chapter 19] [chapter 20] [chapter 21] [chapter 22] [chapter 23] [chapter 24]

[read on ao3]

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Seven years later.

It was Father MacAvoy’s last sermon at St. Joseph’s. As of tomorrow, his flock was at St. Rita’s, a much larger church further inside London, where he’d been transferred due to the success of his congregation’s bi-weekly soup kitchens.

It was also near Belle’s library, which is why MacAvoy was only a little upset when he hadn’t seen them in the pews. He’d see her tomorrow once the movers finished taking his boxes.

“Thank you all for seven wonderful years,” he said. “And I hope we all meet again someday.” He set down his last page and smiled out at the room. “Anyone who’d like to take communion, please join me now.”

As he handed out wafers and thimblefuls of juice, everyone congratulated him on his bigger congregation, on the success of his social programs. He couldn’t help but tear up as people told him they’d miss him, that they’d loved hearing him for these last seven years, that he’d meant something to them.

He couldn’t believe Belle wasn’t here. This, the culmination of all he’d worked toward, and she couldn’t find the time?

But no, that wasn’t fair. Things came up. She’d probably left him a message that he’d see after services, and she’d definitely welcome him to St. Rita’s tomorrow.

He finished shaking hands, hugging his flock, apologizing that he’d heard his last confession yesterday and had too much packing to do today. This wasn’t strictly true—most everything he owned had taken about half a day to pack—but he just couldn’t draw out this goodbye any further. Enough was enough. This was where he’d built a home. This was the church that had cradled him through his darkest days.

And where was the woman who’d pulled him out of those dark days?

He swallowed down those thoughts, and then, when he looked up, there she was, hurrying toward him with a young boy in tow as the rest of the congregants trickled out.

“Sorry,” she said with a tight smile. “We had to stay in the back and be very quiet.”

“I’m just glad you’re here,” he said, heart lightening as she gave him a quick hug. He looked down at the boy, whose seventh birthday they had all celebrated just a few weeks ago. “Why’d you have to be so quiet?”

“We’re on our best behavior for the social worker,” he said, London accent thick.

“Aiden!” Belle blushed. “No, it’s just that—”

The last congregant left and before the door could close, it hit an obstacle, and then Nosty was shouldering his way in carrying a sleeping toddler.

“Sorry, sorry,” Nosty whispered. “She only just fell asleep.”

“Why don’t we go upstairs?” MacAvoy asked. “I think I’ve got at least two tins of biscuits.” Many congregants had baked him gifts, especially the ones who had maintained, over the years, that he was unhealthily skinny.

“What kind of biscuits?” Aiden asked.

“You’ll have to find out, won’t you?” Nosty said.

They all followed him up, Aiden right behind while Belle stayed back to take the diaper bag from Nosty’s shoulder so he could more easily climb the stairs with Molly, their second foster child.

Without having to ask, the two of them headed for MacAvoy’s own room to settle Molly and her monitor in for a quieter nap, while MacAvoy took Aiden to his pile of food gifts.

This was truly the best life he could ask for. He had best friends who knew his home was their home, he had two kids who might someday call him Uncle Joseph, and more than being no longer considered a disgrace by the archdiocese, he was actively lauded for the good he brought to his community.

“May I have some chocolate ones?” Aiden asked.

“Whichever you like,” he said. “And there’s a box of Legos out for you as soon as you finish.”

Aiden, with a thank you that was too serious for a seven-year-old boy, selected two chocolate biscuits, then sat by himself on the couch and ate them carefully over a napkin. He only looked up when Belle and Nosty tiptoed out of the room and shut the door behind them.

“Chocolate, eh?” Nosty asked. “Your favorite.”

“I thanked Father Joseph for them,” Aiden said defensively.

Belle ruffled his hair. “That was very thoughtful of you,” she said. Aiden calmed, and Nosty dragged the box of Legos out for him, and then he and Belle collapsed into their chairs at the kitchen table, door open so they could keep an eye on the living room.

“Long morning?” MacAvoy asked, setting out cups of coffee and one of the biscuit tins. Belle reached for one immediately while Nosty dumped sugar into his mug.

“Oh, it was fine,” Nosty said. “First, we started screaming as soon as we got out the car, then as soon as Mum took Aiden inside, we screamed some more, then we looked at mushrooms and tried to poison ourselves, and then we finally fell asleep.” A tiny fistful of curly hair looked to have been yanked from Nosty’s ponytail.

“I’m sorry you had to miss his last sermon,” Belle said, rubbing his shoulders. “Aiden enjoyed it, though. He said you sounded very sad, and he thought everyone would like that.”

“Did I?” MacAvoy asked. “I was trying to be uplifting.”

“I found it very uplifting,” Belle assured him. She took a gulp of coffee. “And sorry we couldn’t sit closer, I could see you looking for us, but there was a man who glared at Nosty before we even got inside because Molly was screaming, and—” She lowered her voice. “It made Aiden nervous.”

They all glanced into the living room where Aiden was now meticulously stacking green legos into a tower.

“What was with the social worker thing?” MacAvoy asked.

Nosty’s jaw clenched, but Belle just took another gulp of coffee.

“I don’t know, he’s been very nervous about the social worker recently, and it makes me nervous that someone’s going to report us just because he’s anxious.”

Nosty clenched his fist this time, knuckles white above the table, wedding ring digging in to his finger. MacAvoy figured he’d best change the subject so that Nosty didn’t explode where Aiden could hear him.

“So, you said you had news?”

“Lots of news,” Belle said. “We’ve been saving it all up because we knew we’d be seeing you.”

Now that they had two children in the same small, two-bedroom flat, they almost never came to the church, but Belle called him at least once a week on her lunch break. For the past week, all she’d said over and over was that they had “so much” to tell him.

“Is it good? Bad? Should I be worried?”

“A little worried,” Nosty said, and Belle swatted him on the shoulder.

“Not worried at all. It’s mostly good. Great, actually. Nosty?”

Nosty fiddled with the handle of his mug again, and MacAvoy tried not to be nervous. Belle had said the news was good.

“I sold a book,” he said.

“Well, that’s fantastic!” MacAvoy said, and both of them must have realized it was a little too bright, a little too disingenuous, because they narrowed their eyes at him.

“What?” Nosty asked.

MacAvoy swallowed. “Sorry, I just—don’t you sell a lot of books?” As soon as Nosty’s two-year probation for assaulting an officer ended, he’d gotten a part-time job at the bookstore a few streets over from Belle’s library, and had worked there ever since.

“Oi, not at the shop.” Nosty snorted. “I mean, my agent sold me manuscript to a publisher.”

“Oh, fuck,” MacAvoy said, cheeks reddening at his misunderstanding. “That’s fantastic! When’s it coming out?”

“It’ll probably be at least two years,” Belle said. “Publishing is quite slow.”

“Two years?” MacAvoy whistled. “Hasn’t it been with the agent for a year at least?”

“He’s only been shopping it for four months or so, the rest was me editing.” He shuddered. “Not my strong suit. Belle did most of it. She’s getting a whole chapter of acknowledgments.”

Belle kissed him on the cheek. “So, Nosty sold a book, and we finalized Molly’s adoption.”

MacAvoy pressed a hand to his heart. They’d taken Molly in a rush placement about six months ago when her mother had passed away while social services searched for next of kin. The grandparents were still alive, but they had health problems. It had been a long six months of mediation, evaluations, and heartache.

“That’s wonderful. And the grandparents?”

“I think they’re adopting us as well,” Belle said. “They’ll still be her grandparents, and we’ve got an invite to Christmas dinner. Actually, they’re taking her tomorrow, because news number three is that the movers rescheduled, and we’re moving tomorrow instead of Friday now.”

“Tomorrow?” MacAvoy’s eyebrows flew up. Tomorrow was supposed to be his moving day. Belle was going to come over on her lunch break and get a tour.

“I know, I’m sorry, and Aiden’s got a supervised visit with his mother after school too, so it’s going to be a mess.”

Nosty’s fist clenched again. Belle laid a hand over it.

“That’s certainly a lot,” MacAvoy said. “Would it help if I brought pizza over?”

“Why don’t we bring pizza to you so that we don’t have to worry about unpacking dishes?” Belle asked.

“Deal.”

Nosty still had the far-off look in his eyes and his fist clenched when Aiden burst into the kitchen carrying a small framed photo. MacAvoy knew it had been resting on top of a box to remind him to wrap it before the movers came tomorrow.

“What’ve you got there?” Belle asked, holding an arm out. He tucked himself up against her side and laid the frame on the table.

“I’m sorry,” Aiden said. “I just wanted to look at it.”

“That’s all right,” MacAvoy said. “You’re welcome to look at it.”

“Is this Father Joseph?” He pushed the frame toward Belle who peered at it, even though she had to already know what the photo was.

“Aye, that’s me,” MacAvoy said. “Sometimes, I dress like a civilian.”

It was a photo from their wedding day at the courthouse. Belle wore a strapless wedding dress with floral lace and a full skirt, and Nosty wore a kilt suit. Kaz—who had mostly fallen out of touch since getting her nursing degree—served as best man while Kathryn, no longer Nosty’s solicitor, was maid of honor. MacAvoy officiated as he’d always wanted to, though it was as a friend and not a priest, hence the suit and tie instead of shirt and collarino. This photo was the five of them, Belle and Nosty holding each other and beaming at the camera with wet eyes while Kathryn wept openly, Kaz held the bouquet and grinned, and MacAvoy stoically tried to hide his tears.

“How come everyone’s crying?” Aiden asked.

“We were happy,” Belle said.

“Ecstatic,” Nosty agreed.

“I wasn’t crying,” MacAvoy said, and the two of them snorted.

“I’ve never cried because I was happy,” Aiden said.

“Well, maybe someday you will.” Belle hugged him closer, and he fiddled with the frame stand, flipping it in and out.

“You haven’t been alive long enough,” Nosty said. “You’ll get there.”

“You looked pretty.”

Belle squeezed him again. “Thank you.”

Once Aiden had taken another biscuit and napkin into the other room, Belle picked up the photo, eyes misting over.

“Look at how nice we all looked,” she said. Nosty rested a hand over hers. “We had to wait to get married so both of you could grow your hair out.”

“Well, I didn’t want the skinhead look in me own wedding photos,” Nosty said.

“I’m still rejecting vanity,” MacAvoy said. “But I was grateful to look like myself.”

They were all still studying the photo when a wail sounded on the baby monitor. Nosty pushed himself up with a groan, but Belle laid a hand on his arm.

“You stay, I’ll get her.”

Nosty slumped back in his chair while Belle wandered off, Aiden abandoning his Lego structure to follow her into the bedroom.

“So,” MacAvoy said. He lifted his mug to take a sip, but it was empty. “How are you doing?”

Nosty shook his head. Over the years, they hadn’t opened up to one another the way either of them could open up to Belle, but Nosty was family to him now. They had gone through fire together. Nosty had even once drunkenly confessed that he’d have asked MacAvoy to be his best man if he hadn’t been the officiant.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Can’t you just—write another letter?” Nosty asked. “So we can adopt Aiden?”

MacAvoy’s eyebrows flew up. “I’m sure I can, but I don’t think it would help.” His word as a priest had gone far in both Nosty’s criminal trial and their adoption of Molly, but Aiden still had parents.

“I know.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I know.”

Belle came back a few minutes later carrying a groggy Molly, Aiden at their heels. “I think it’s time for us to go. We’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow,” he said. “And call me if you need anything.”

Belle kissed him quickly on the cheek, as did Molly—much to his delight—and then Aiden shook his hand, still so serious, holding the diaper bag over his little shoulder.

Nosty hung back while the three of them headed for the stairs.

“You’ll be all right tomorrow?” he asked.

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “And congratulations. I’m so happy for you.”

Up close, he could see the purple bags under Nosty’s eyes, the new crow’s feet, but that was all these days. The rage, the fury that always boiled just under the surface was gone. Once, he’d even seen someone startle Nosty. Of course, he still clenched his fists, still spiraled behind a tight jaw, but who didn’t?

“Thanks.” Nosty clapped him on the back. “We’ll let you know how the visit goes.”

“I look forward to it.”

Nosty took a step toward the stairs, then paused. “You know, we’re really glad you’ll finally be closer.”

MacAvoy smiled. “I’ll miss this church, but me too. I can’t wait to be in babysitting range.”

Nosty grinned. “Me neither, mate. Me neither.”

****

Belle and Nosty barely managed to turn the covers down before collapsing into bed. They’d packed all afternoon, then Molly had refused to fall asleep, so Belle and Nosty took turns rocking her and reading to Aiden. Luckily, he dropped off around nine, and eventually Belle got Molly to sleep with a lullaby her father used to sing to her.

So she was in her crib in the bare living room, Aiden was in his bedroom, and Belle wasn’t sure she could summon the energy to read even a chapter before sleeping.

She could, however, snuggle up against her husband’s chest, his arms around her, the safest place in the world.

“You ready for tomorrow?” Nosty asked.

Belle smiled into the dark. He knew her well. “We’re all packed.”

“I know, I was there.” He kissed her hair. “But—this is the flat you grew up in.”

It was. This had been her bedroom since they’d moved to London when her mother died. She’d paid off the mortgage she inherited about three years back, and once the social worker floated the possibility of Molly, Belle knew it was time to sell it. She and her dad could fit just fine in this flat, but even if Molly was the only kid they ever adopted, three was a lot of people to share one bathroom and a tiny kitchen.

“I’ll miss it,” she said. “But I love our new house.”

Nosty pulled her closer somehow, tucking her hair under his chin. His grip was too tight around her waist to be casual.

“How are you feeling about it?”

He kissed her head, then rested his lips there. “I don’t want Aiden to have the visit tomorrow.”

Belle closed her eyes. If she could have, she’d have wrapped her arms around him, but he had her in a vice grip, so she settled for holding his hands where they clasped around her.

“I know,” Belle said. “But it’s his mother. He deserves to see her.”

“You’re his mother,” Nosty said. “He’s my son.”

When they’d talked about fostering, Nosty had been so happy to give someone the home he’d never had growing up, but she had seen this coming the second they met Aiden eight months ago. His mother was in court-ordered rehab. His dad, like Nosty’s, had been in and out of his life since he was born.

“Nosty, we have to do what’s best for Aiden,” she said softly.

“What’s she want with him now?” he asked. “He hasn’t seen her in months.”

But Aiden missed her—of course he did. He was seven. Sometimes, when he slept, he cried out for his mother, and Belle knew he didn’t mean her. He had called them Belle and Nosty for a little bit when he was first placed, but he’d since lapsed into calling them nothing at all.

“Nosty, what did you want when you were in the system?” she asked.

He groaned into her hair. “I just wanted someone to love me. But I love him. We love him.”

“I know,” Belle said. “I know we do. But didn’t you want that person to be your parents? Deep down?”

Nosty loosened his grip on her and pressed his eyes into the back of her head. After another minute, he groaned again.

“You’re right. I know. We always said we hoped his mum would get it together.”

Privately, in her deepest, darkest thoughts, Belle didn’t want his mum to get it together either. She did think of Aiden as her son. She wanted to keep him. But he was a person, and he had a family, and he deserved to be with them if he could.

A creak sounded down the hall, and then Aiden’s door was opening. Nosty pulled his arms off of Belle and by the time Aiden stumbled sleepily to their bed, they were a chaste distance apart.

“What’s wrong, Aid?” Nosty asked.

“I had a bad dream,” Aiden said. “Is Molly okay?”

“Molly’s fine.” Belle pulled the monitor off the nightstand to show him Molly sleeping peacefully in her crib. “Why don’t you come tell us about your bad dream?”

Aiden climbed in between them, and once he was settled, Belle and Nosty exchanged misty looks above his head. He’d never done this before.

“Will I have my own room in the new house?” Aiden asked.

Belle’s eyes flew up. “Of course. And Molly will too. It’s got three bedrooms.”

“What does it look like?”

This was out of Belle’s element. Having lived in the same flat for most of her life, she could only guess at the anxieties that he might be trying to express and how to assuage them.

“Pretty much like your room now,” Nosty said. “It’s got four walls, a closet, and it’ll have the same bed.”

Aiden considered this. He was such a serious little boy, always terrified of disorder. Belle worried that his mother was the reason he agonized over touching things, over getting crumbs on the floor, but the social worker would be there tomorrow. She wouldn’t let him be yelled at.

“What color is it?”

“It’s white right now,” Belle said. “But we can paint it before we move all the boxes in. Whatever color you want.”

“Green,” Aiden said quickly, then cast them both a wide-eyed look. “Please.”

Belle and Nosty both squeezed him. Above his head, Nosty gripped her hand.

“We’ll go look at paint colors on Tuesday after school, okay?” Belle said. “You can pick out whichever green you like. You can even pick out two greens.”

Aiden’s eyes widened again, but this time it made him look young instead of like he’d already lived too many lives. “For the same room?”

“Aye, we’ll have an accent wall.” Nosty waved his hand toward the lighter wall in their room. “Very posh.”

“Are we posh?” Aiden asked.

“Your mum’s very posh,” Nosty said, then he clamped his mouth shut. They tried to be careful about calling each other his parents.

“I don’t know,” Belle said. “I don’t think I am.”

“Oi, you’ve got a different pair of shoes for every day of the month,” Nosty said, and Aiden giggled.

“What if I only like one green?” he asked.

“Then we’ll only paint it one green,” Belle said. “You can even change your mind about green if you find a color you like better.”

Aiden’s face scrunched again, and Nosty cast her a panicked look, but then he relaxed.

“Can I have a bookshelf?”

“Och,” Nosty said. “You can have a hundred bookshelves.”

“I don’t even have a hundred books,” Aiden said.

“You know what?” Belle brushed his hair back from his forehead, and his eyes drooped. “I think we’re all very tired. Why don’t we go to sleep, and once you see your room tomorrow, you can figure out how many bookshelves you think will fit?”

“Okay.” Aiden’s eyes drifted shut, and Nosty squeezed Belle’s hand. “Goodnight, Mum,” he mumbled. “Night, Dad.”

Belle allowed herself one second of meeting Nosty’s eyes in disbelief before she leaned down to kiss Aiden on the forehead.

“Goodnight,” she said. “I love you.”

“And I love you.” Nosty kissed him as well.

Aiden’s breathing evened out in less than a minute, and Belle shifted just enough to lace her fingers with Nosty’s as her eyes filled with more silent tears.

“See, I told you,” Nosty whispered so low, if Belle had been an inch further, she wouldn’t have heard. “He is our son.”

“I know,” Belle said. “I know.”

Nosty stretched to wipe her tears away with his thumb. Between them, Aiden snored louder than someone with such a small nose ought to have been able to.

“Get some sleep,” Nosty said. “Long day tomorrow.”

“What about you?”

He shrugged, glancing down at Aiden. She understood. Nosty had worked hard on his hypervigilance, but his therapist had yet to convince him that it was all right to let down his guard sometimes now that there were kids involved.

“I love you,” Belle said.

“I love you,” he said.

She had the love of her life’s hand in hers. Between them was a boy who might one day really be their son, and their daughter slumbered on just a room away. Tomorrow, they’d be moving into a house they’d chosen together, the house where they’d raise their little family. Joseph was moving a full twenty minutes closer, Nosty had a book deal, and Aiden had called Belle Mum.

“If you don’t close your eyes, I’ll close ‘em for you,” Nosty said. Belle grinned, but obeyed.

“Okay, okay. Goodnight, Nosty.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

With so much going on, so much to think about, she thought she’d be awake for at least a few minutes, but Nosty’s presence had the same effect it always had, and soon, she couldn’t have opened her eyes if she’d wanted to. Without another thought, she drifted off to sleep, Aiden’s feet digging into her thighs and Nosty’s hand around hers.

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