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beeeinyourbonnet · 3 months ago

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Covetous | Chapter 22

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]

[read on ao3]

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Belle woke pressed against Nosty—her favorite way to wake up—and was surprised to feel him snoring against her hair still. He never slept this much.

Not wanting to wake him, she untangled herself and crept out of bed and to the bathroom, performing her morning ablutions with haste before creeping back in. Nosty didn’t wake when she tucked herself back under his arm, so she closed her eyes and drifted back off.

She woke the second time to the feel of him kissing her shoulder.

“Good morning,” she said. His hand snaked across her stomach, splaying just beneath her breasts.

“Morning, sweetheart.” He kissed her neck and her entire body responded as if he’d thrust his tongue inside her.

“How’d you sleep?” she asked, sighing when his finger brushed her breast.

“Never better.” He tugged on her nipple, and she jerked against him, feeling his cock already hard behind her. “You?”

He scraped his teeth along her shoulder, his other hand sliding down her thigh.

“Great,” she said, voice weak as his deft fingers moved between her legs, his others still pinching and rolling her nipples between them.

It took him no time at all to bring her off, as though she hadn’t spent all of last night screaming his name, and when she tried to turn in his arms to return the favor, he kissed her, blanketing her with his body.

“Is it your turn to be on top?” she asked, wondering vaguely how she was already ready for more.

“If you’re up for it,” he said, and she grabbed his cock in response to guide it into her.

It was much slower this time, and Nosty held himself up on his elbows as he ground into her, watching her eyes with every thrust.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said. “God. Fuck.”

She cupped his cheek, wishing she had a word to tell him how he looked hovering over her, all dark shadows and jagged edges, wonder in his eyes.

He didn’t seem in any hurry to come this time, and neither was she, content to just have him filling her for as long as possible.

Then, someone knocked on the front door. Nosty broke eye contact to glare.

“Ignore it.” Belle pulled his cheek back to face her. “It’s probably just the post.”

He pulled out further and thrust harder, startling a cry from her, and then they were back to the slow rhythm, but now, he ground his hips against her, brushing her clit with every thrust.

“Are you close?” he asked.

“Kind of,” she said, and then whoever it was knocked again. Nosty growled. “Ignore it.”

His leisurely pace disappeared, replaced with slow thrusts that rocked her each time he pushed in. She thought that it might be possible, at this pace and with this friction, for her to come without the aid of his fingers, but then the knocking started up again and didn’t let up.

“Belle!” Joseph’s voice called, and if she could hear it all the way in the bedroom, her neighbors had to have been annoyed. “Belle, please open up, it’s me!”

Nosty growled again, and then he was pounding into her, startling a series of broken cries from her, and pounding faster whenever Joseph spoke.

“What do you need to come for me?” he hissed in her ear. “I don’t want to come first, and making him wait—” He bit her shoulder as if to express just how much the thought of making Joseph wait at the door was going to make him come.

“Tell me I’m beautiful again,” she said, surprising herself with the request.

“God, any time.” He licked her neck. “You’re so fucking perfect. You—” He frowned at her. “You’re perfect. That’s all I’ve got.”

“Say anything nice.”

“You’re sweet.” He ducked his head to suck on her neck, lowering himself to her to just grind again, and her body jolted every time he brushed across her clit. “You’re so competent.” Joseph continued to knock on the door, hollering her name. Could he hear Belle moaning at the sound of Nosty’s voice in her ear? “You’re funny and kind and—fuck!”

She tugged on his hair as a reflex as she came with a scream, and then he came too, and the knocking paused for half a second before resuming with vigor.

Nosty lay on top of her, panting, and after much less time than she’d have liked, lifted his head. “Do you want me to get rid of him?”

She bit her lip. She was mad at Joseph, but she didn’t want Nosty to lord it over him. She also could not stomach the thought of seeing his face, of seeing any hurt in his eyes. She wanted to be mad just a bit longer.

“Yes,” she said. He had to have heard them, because now he knocked as though he knew she was inside. “But don’t be cruel, okay?”

With a groan, Nosty pulled himself off of and out of her. “I’ll be civil,” he said, which, after what Joseph had said to him, was good enough for her.

****

MacAvoy wasn’t sure how long he intended to bang on Belle’s door. Honestly, he was surprised none of her neighbors had emerged to pummel him yet since it was just past ten on a Saturday morning, but maybe they weren’t home.

Every time he paused, he strained his ears to listen for her behind the door, but while he thought he could hear her moving around, he couldn’t hear anything definite. Maybe he should have called instead of spending more money on a taxi to get here, but he hadn’t been thinking straight. The only thing he knew for sure, after dwelling all night, was that he had to apologize to Belle and mean it. After, he could help her find Nosty again.

He heard a scream, remembered Belle’s forehead cut when she’d been too upset to pay attention, and renewed his knocking. She was home, and she was hurt. He would fix it.

The door swung open, and MacAvoy almost dropped to the floor in gratitude before he realized that it was not Belle who stood before him, but Nosty, wrapped in a blanket from Belle’s couch.

“What do you want?” Nosty asked, but MacAvoy couldn’t speak. He was too busy taking in what he could see of the living room from the doorway—a sweater crumpled on the couch, a bra splayed over a chair, Nosty’s shirt on the floor, and a pair of knickers closer to MacAvoy than he ever expected Belle’s knickers to be.

He looked back up at Nosty, who he now realized was naked under the blanket. In his attempt to protect Belle, he’d driven her into Nosty’s arms. At least Nosty wasn’t gone. At least she was okay.

“I want to talk to Belle,” he said.

“She doesn’t want to see you.”

MacAvoy clenched his teeth. His head pounded and his stomach churned like he was hungover, though he hadn’t had more to drink than what he’d licked off his lips before shattering the bottle.

“Please, Nosty, I just want to apologize.”

Nosty bared his teeth. “To Belle? Tough shite.”

“Of course to Belle.” He tried to peer around him, but Nosty moved to block his view. “Come on, I’ll be quick. Please.”

“She doesn’t want to see you.” Nosty hitched the blanket tighter. Had he interrupted them before they’d started? Or was this after?

Tearing his gaze away from Belle’s undergarments, he studied Nosty. Beyond the scruff, his pale face had red splotches, and his already wild hair had come loose from its usual tie to stick out in every direction. MacAvoy flushed all the way to his toes.

“I really need to talk to her,” he said. What would he do if Nosty refused again?

“Look, she knows you’re here. She can fucking hear you. If she wanted to talk to you, she’d come out.”

As much as MacAvoy hated to admit it, what Nosty said made sense. He’d assumed that Nosty had come just to antagonize him, but of course Belle had been the one to send him. How could she not know he was here? Her flat was small.

“Fine.” He could feel each of his organs shriveling up in turn.

The door started to close, so MacAvoy thrust his foot out, not sure what to do next. Nosty raised an eyebrow, but didn’t slam the door on him. A small victory.

“Something else on your mind?” Nosty asked, like he expected a real answer. MacAvoy swallowed, trying to think on his feet—a skill he’d once had for advising parishioners but was rusty now.

“Mass!” he blurted.

Nosty didn’t move, just continued to stare at him. He didn’t know which was more unnerving, Nosty screaming or Nosty silent and still.

“Come to mass,” he said. “Both of you. Please.”

“We’ll see.” Nosty started to close the door again, but MacAvoy held his foot steady.

“Please. Ask her now. I just want to know.”

Somehow, Nosty glared down at him even though they were the same height and Nosty was barefoot. Then, he turned his head and called, “Belle. Mass tomorrow?”

MacAvoy didn’t mean to hold his breath while he waited for an answer, but the silence stretched so long he had to let it out. Then, he heard the sweetest thing he could remember hearing—Belle’s voice calling out, “Okay.”

She was there. She was hearing him.

“So, I guess you’ll have to see me tomorrow,” Nosty said. “Hate to have to give you such shite news.”

He would not rise to this bait. “I’ll be glad to see you both,” he said. “Thank you. For asking her.”

Nosty grunted, then swung the door shut with no more protest from MacAvoy. He stood there for another minute, straining to discern any sex sounds or commentary on him, but he couldn’t even hear their voices this time.

Even though this was a net positive, he still didn’t know what he could do at mass to win Belle back. If he had a drink, maybe she’d take pity on him? Probably she’d just be disgusted by him. He was disgusted with the thought. He didn’t want her pity, he wanted her friendship.

He took the stairs slowly on the off chance that Belle emerged to forgive him. What would that take? Something spectacular, but not showy. A real apology. But what would he say? And when?

His taxi habit was draining his funds almost as much as the liquor had, so he resolved to walk until he could find a bus stop that would take him somewhere he recognized, and as he did, he replayed his fight with Belle over in his mind. There had to be a clue there as to what she needed from him.

There had to be.

****

When Nosty crawled back into bed, Belle received him with open arms, tucking him against her. He buried his face in her neck, and she half expected him to give her another love bite, but all he did was hold her like he could crawl inside of her skin.

She stroked his hair. “Nosty? Did he say something to you?”

“Fuck all,” he mumbled into her neck.

She held him tighter, running her nails along his scalp. “You tried to tell me a hundred times that he was being awful to you, didn’t you? I’m sorry I didn’t listen.”

Nosty didn’t say anything, and then his hand came around to squeeze her ass cheek, startling a laugh from her.

“He wasn’t always awful,” Nosty said. Her eyebrows flew up. Three therapy sessions and some journaling, and he was already giving Joseph the benefit of the doubt? She hoped the health system paid his therapist well.

“Still.”

“He wanted you to not be with me,” Nosty said. “Wouldn’t believe I wasn’t bending you over and buggering you in every room of the church.”

Belle flushed. “I’m sure he didn’t—”

“Belle, he told me more than once not to ‘violate’ you. Every time he thought we fucked, he’d spend all day being a prick.”

A small bead of despair settled in her gut. Had she been so wrong about Joseph? He’d been so supportive. He’d known all along that Nosty had Belle’s heart. She’d told him so when they kissed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Nosty shrugged, kneading her fleshy backside. She hoped that squeezing it comforted him. “Didn’t want to ruin your friendship.”

Belle didn’t realize her hand in his hair had stilled as she contemplated this until Nosty nudged her elbow with his. She rubbed his scalp.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see it,” she said. “I would have done something.”

Nosty burrowed closer to her somehow, tangling his legs between hers. “I was afraid you’d pick him.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I was afraid if you thought we weren’t getting along, you’d take his side, and you’d have every fucking right to.” He lifted his face to look at her. “I didn’t think I’d hurt you that much when I left, Belle, but I know I did. I hurt the only person whose ever even liked me, and he didn’t. And I’m a fucking mess, and he’s the easier choice.”

“Nosty.” She stroked his cheek. “The important thing to me is that you would never ask me to choose.”

He pressed tiny chaste kisses to her neck wherever his lips reached. She played with his hair, not sure whether he wanted her to say anything or just hold him for now.

“I don’t care what he thinks,” he said. She bit her lip and stroked his scalp with her nails. After a few seconds, he looked up at her. His eyes might have been wet. “Why do I care what he thinks?”

She kissed his forehead. “Because he was supposed to be a safe place.”

Nosty buried his face in her neck again and she wrapped her arms around him. “I knew he thought I was a worthless waster, but I thought—” He shook his head, hair tickling her chin. “I don’t know what I thought.”

“Well, if he doesn’t apologize to your satisfaction, then I don’t want anything to do with him,” Belle said, decisive in spite of the pain that lanced through her.

Nosty propped himself on an elbow to stare at her. “What?”

“If I can’t trust him, I have no reason to spend time with him. I’ll help you get your stuff and we’ll—we’ll figure something out.”

“Why would he apologize to me?”

Belle wasn’t sure how to answer that. “You want him to, right?”

“Yeah, and I want a fucking castle on a hill too, what of it?”

“Nosty, you deserve an apology.” She took his face in her hands. “He treated you badly. A lot. At the very least, he owes you an apology.”

Nosty licked his lips, staring at the wall in thought. “You think I deserve it?”

“Of—”

“Wait, no, I know you think I do.” He studied her face, brow furrowed. “But like. Would Kathryn?”

“Yes.”

He settled back into her neck, trailing his fingers up and down her thigh. “Huh.”

“What is it?” She kissed him on the head.

“I thought I was being selfish again.” He squeezed her thigh. “I’ve demanded what’s owed me too much to know when I’m right and when I’m wrong. Always figured I’d be wrong no matter what. Figured that’s what happens when you’re worthless.”

“You’re not worthless.” She lifted his head to look at him. “You were never worthless. None of your friends are worthless.”

“Belle, I appreciate you saying that, but you’re what most people would consider fucking nuts.”

She pursed her lips. “I don’t care. I’m cleverer than any of those people, so I’m right.”

He cracked a grin. “Cleverest bird I know.” He slid his hand down her thigh, then pulled her leg across his. She didn’t know if she could go again. “And you’d really just—pick me?”

“I trust you to judge him honestly,” she said. “And if he fails, then yes. I’d pick you.”

Part of her wanted to know everything, to know all that Joseph had done, but Nosty was protecting her from it for a reason, and she would just have to accept his judgment. If she trusted him, she trusted him, and that was that.

When he rolled her over and settled between her legs again, she considered stopping him, but he was pressing such gentle kisses into her collar that she couldn’t, and besides—they’d waited this long. What was the point in denying them?

****

After another hour, they dragged themselves out of bed and into the shower, where Nosty brought Belle off again with his fingers while she attempted to wash her hair, and by the time they tangled together on the couch with coffee, she felt like a delightfully wrung-out sponge. She had not known she could come so many times.

“Should we get haircuts today?” she asked. “I can look for a salon.”

“Nah, I can’t face mass without the armor tomorrow.”

“Maybe the salon will be a nice way to decompress after.”

She couldn’t see his face from where she leaned against his chest, but the way he stiffened told her he was frowning down at her.

“First of all, the salon isn’t gonna make me less stressed, and second of all, what the fuck are you doing to your hair?”

She rubbed a finger along the handle of her mug. “Would you be upset if I cut my hair short?”

“Aye, if I have to shave my head for the trial, then you have to keep your womanly curls.” He wrapped one around his finger. “I’d think you were beautiful no matter what, but that jury best think we’re a god-fearing couple pledging our eternal allegiance to the queen and tradition.”

Belle laughed, but his declaration sent warmth all the way to the soles of her feet. God, had she ever been happier? “You’d think I was beautiful no matter what?”

“You could grow a cock and an Adam’s apple and I’d count me fucking blessings that you liked me.”

She strained to face him, her heart filling so much, it could have burst. He brushed his thumb across the corner of her lip.

“Nosty?”

“Mm?”

Her heart pounded. “I lo—”

He pressed a finger to her lips. “Don’t.”

She wanted to wilt. “Oh.” Were all her internal organs crumbling, or was that just the unbearable weight of sadness? It was one thing for him not to say it back, another for him to stop her from saying it entirely, like he was ashamed.

“Belle, wait,” he said as she turned away, hunching over her coffee.

“It’s fine.” It was not fine. But it had to be, because surely, she could deal with not speaking her heart for just a little bit longer? She’d made it this far.

“Belle, it’s not—” He groaned in frustration, then plucked her mug out of her hand and set both of them on the end table.

“It’s not?”

He wrapped both his arms around her, burying his mouth against her neck again. That didn’t feel like a person who was ashamed of her love, at least.

“I just—” He swallowed. “I’ve never.”

Some of the ache dissipated. She laid her hands over his. “You’ve never what?”

“Said it. Heard it.” He swallowed against her pulse. “Felt it.”

Part of her wanted to force him to spell out what “it” was, but that was unnecessary. Still, she didn’t know where to go from here.

“What if I feel it?” she asked.

He didn’t answer for so long, she thought he might never. Then, he clenched his fists into her shirt.

“I think—” He turned his head so his eyes pressed to her neck now. “I think I do. But I’m not ready to say it, and I think—”

She said nothing, hardly breathing while she waited for him to gather himself.

“You think?” she prompted when he’d been quiet for longer than she could stand.

“I just think I should say it first, hey? You deserve it instead of just my fucking knee-jerk reaction to make you happy.”

It was enough. She could be happy knowing that it was only an internal struggle that kept him from saying it and not a fear of her love.

“I wish you’d known enough love in your life to not be afraid of it,” she said, kissing him on the forehead. “But I’ll wait for you just like you waited for me.”

He squeezed her, then loosened his arms enough to pinch her sides until she laughed. After kissing her neck, he returned their coffee cups, and she settled back against him.

“So,” he said after a minute or so of comfortable silence. “You really can’t get pregnant?”

“Nope,” she said.

“Why not?”

“The easiest way to put it is that I have a weird ovary.”

Nosty was quiet, and she wondered that this didn’t make her anxious. She had never told another boyfriend about it because she had never taken the time to make sure they could have safe, condom-free sex. But just as she wanted to know all of Nosty, she wanted him to know all of her.

“Don’t you want kids?”

She shrugged. “I’ve always wanted to be a mother, but I’ve made my peace with it. Why, do you?”

She couldn’t imagine Nosty wanting kids, but then, she also couldn’t imagine why the L word made him nervous but this conversation didn’t. Maybe this one was too hypothetical to matter.

“Never thought I’d live long enough to have to decide.”

He might as well have wrapped a hand around her heart and squeezed.

“Well,” she said, trying not to sound choked up about him living. “If this is for the long haul, then I guess you should decide if it’s important to you that I can’t get pregnant.”

He drained his coffee, then plopped his mug on the table. “Belle, there’s no imaginary kid more important to me than you.”

“You don’t know that—”

“Belle.” He tilted her chin up and looked down at her. “Being a kid was a fucking nightmare. I had different parents every week, sometimes me own. No one gave a shit about me. There’s no fucking way I’ll ever want to be a dad more than I want to be with you. Let my gene pool fucking die with me.”

He released her chin, and she pressed herself against him since she couldn’t hold him, dying to know more about his childhood. She could wait, though. He’d tell her someday. They had plenty of time. “Well, I guess that’s all ironed out then.”

“Guess so.” He kissed her hair. “Now, you never told me what was so good about the salon.”

****

They took a walk, hand in hand for the first time, and Belle led Nosty all around her neighborhood. Since his gaunt form was still filling out with regular meals and sleep, she didn’t want to go suit shopping just yet, but they did look at a few hanging in windows.

When they got back to her flat, they made a pizza from scratch, Belle showing Nosty how to mix and knead the dough before leaving him to that task while she chopped any bits and bobs of leftover vegetables in the fridge to add to it.

“Are you liking cooking?” she asked while they ate by candlelight again, drinking glasses of a sweet red.

He shrugged. “I like cooking with you. It’s nice to know that if I ever got stranded, I wouldn’t starve.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Do you think about getting stranded a lot?”

“Belle, I’ve lived under a bridge for fucking years. I think about danger every second of every day. I’m thinking right now about how secure your locks are and how likely it would be for some ripped bloke to knock your door off and kidnap you.”

She took a bite, giving herself time to think. “That’s not going to happen.”

“No, it’s probably not going to happen.” He waved his slice at her. “But I don’t think I’ll ever stop thinking about that ‘probably.’”

“Nosty, that is an exhausting way to live,” she said, and he wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“Why d’you think I walk fifty kilometers a day, eh? For me health?”

“What kind of stuff did you worry about in the church?” she asked, because a morbid, anxious part of her was curious.

He swallowed his bite, then studied his slice. “You getting hit by a bus, bunch of other priests showing up and—” He glanced at her and licked his lips. “—let’s say violating you, terrorist attack, walls caving in, pipe bursting and drowning in my sleep.” He shrugged. “More, probably.”

Belle was no stranger to catastrophizing, but there had to be something she could do to give Nosty a break from himself.

“Would it make you feel better to add another deadbolt?” she asked.

He shrugged. “What if there’s a fire and we can’t get the door open in time?”

“Do you think this is maybe something you should bring up to your therapist?”

He paused, pizza halfway to his mouth. “What for?”

“You don’t have to be vigilant all the time. You’re allowed to relax. A therapist might help you.”

Wrinkling his nose, he shook his head. “We’ll see.”

Whatever he decided to bring up or not, he’d already made so much progress, and she had no idea what he wrote in his journals. Perhaps getting arrested had been the last straw, the final push he needed to want to get out of his situation. There was no way a therapist could help him so quickly without him putting in his own considerable effort.

She smiled into her pizza, hoping he wouldn’t see and ask her about it, but of course, Nosty saw everything.

“What? Thinking about getting railed?” He wiggled his eyebrows and she snorted.

“No. Just thinking about how proud I am of you.”

He ducked his head. He might have been embarrassed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Not meeting her eyes, he shrugged. “I’m proud of me too.”

****

The movie they’d intended to watch played on in the background as Nosty lay on top of Belle, hands tangled in her hair, lips and tongue moving against hers.

At this point, it had been so long since she’d even glanced at the TV, she had no idea how long they’d been kissing. It was nice to just kiss, to feel consumed and connected in equal measure, to give as much as she took.

When the movie ended, Nosty lifted his head to glance at the scrolling credits.

“Great film,” he said, lips red and swollen, surely mirroring Belle’s own. “Couldn’t ask for a better ending.”

“Perfectly tied up,” she agreed with a grin, and then he was kissing her again. One of his hands crept down her neck to her hip, then up the hem of her shirt. Somehow, they’d made it all day without his hands wandering, and the biggest surprise was that they’d made out for so long before he started.

“I love your flat,” Nosty said. His hand splayed across her hip, calloused fingers curling around her waist.

“Yeah?” She let her own hands wander down his sides to rest at the waistband of his kilt.

“The church doesn’t have a couch like this.” His hand crept up her stomach. “And even if it did, I couldn’t do this.” He flicked at a nipple with his finger and she sighed into his mouth.

“Maybe you could,” she said.

“Yeah? How about this?” He pinched her nipple and her hips jerked toward him.

“Maybe.”

He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and rubbed his thumb across her nipple, and when she jerked into him again, he dropped his hand to her ass to hold her flush against him. She still couldn’t believe how ready she already was to rub against his stiff cock. When had sex become fun?

“Maybe not on the couch,” she allowed, breathless, tilting her hips in his grasp to get a better angle against him.

“Sometimes I dream about how you sound when I haven’t even touched you yet.” Nosty thrust his hips into hers and she cried out, trying to match him through their clothes.

She wanted to return the favor, to slide her hands up his shirt and flick his nipples until he begged her like she begged him, but there was no room between them anymore, so she settled for sliding her hands up his back.

Nosty thrust against her more, and she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer as she let out soft cries, knowing that, if she couldn’t touch him, her voice at least turned him on.

He brought his lips to her ear and growled, “I’m gonna make you come so hard later, you’ll leave welts down me back,” then bit her earlobe, rewarding her with a harder thrust when she moaned and clawed at his shoulders.

“Nosty,” she said, hardly able to get the word out as they rutted against one another, couch squealing beneath them.

“Yes, love?”

“I want to touch you too.”

He pressed himself closer to her, like he could drive them both through the couch with enough effort. “Not yet, love, not yet.”

She wanted to protest, but instead she clung on for dear life as he slipped a hand into her knickers and replaced his kilted cock with his strong, nimble fingers, coaxing her to ride his palm without going near her clit.

“Oh god, Nosty,” she sighed, forgetting any protest. “How are you so creative with your—oh god—fingers?”

“Book,” he said. “Back section of your library. Written by a lesbian. Are you ready to come yet?”

She’d been ready to come from the start, but she found the answer was no, she could ride him longer, build the pleasure higher, and she didn’t have to worry because his hand had more stamina than his cock, and his other could be fondling her neglected breast, and every time she opened her eyes, she could watch his hungry, awed expression.

“Okay,” she said, voice broken. “I’m ready.”

He bared his teeth and she bucked against his hand. “You sure, love? You don’t sound ready.”

She cried his name, but all he did was grin wider and pinch her nipple.

“Beg me,” he said, and she was happy to oblige with a, “Please, Nosty!”

He pressed his thumb to her clit and rubbed, and she screamed as she came, marveling as the climax ebbed that he could do that with just his fingers. The lesbian sex book had really paid off.

She lay there panting for a minute, happy to have the solid weight of Nosty on top of her, and then she opened her eyes.

“Do you not like being touched?” she asked. It really did seem unfair that she had lost count of how many orgasms she’d had since yesterday and he’d only had three.

“It’s fine,” he said, nuzzling his nose along her neck. “You don’t need to.”

She frowned at this non-answer. “What if I want to, though?”

His jaw clenched, and though she couldn’t see his face, she could feel him grimace. “I don’t—it’s not—” He huffed out a breath.

“Obviously, if you don’t like it or don’t want me to, I won’t.” She slid her arms around his back, careful to keep her hands neutral even as she tried to soothe him. “And you can tie my hands to the bed if that makes it better for you. But if you would like me to, or if you’re doing this to protect me from something, then we should figure it out.”

“I don’t know—” He swallowed, throat bobbing against her shoulder. “I don’t know how to explain.”

“Is this okay?” She reached up to rub his scalp like she always did. He nodded, then tilted his head so she could reach better.

“Are you afraid you’ll hurt me?” she asked.

His thumb traced her waistband back and forth and back and forth, and then he nodded.

Part of her wished that Nosty could just articulate himself, but being willing to try like this was a lot better than it had been before. There was a time when he would have just told her a pretty lie, or she’d have been so afraid of asking him that she would have just kept quiet.

“Why are you more afraid to hurt me if I touch you than vice versa?”

“It’s not—it’s not that I think I’d hurt you physically. I’ve never been afraid I’d harm you.”

“So what is it then?”

“I don’t want you to hate me.” He gripped her hip so tightly, it hurt, but she didn’t want to let him know that if he was already this anxious.

“What do you mean? Why would I hate you?”

“I want to hold you.”

She pursed her lips, glad he could not see this reaction. “This isn’t holding me?”

But apparently, he meant in bed, so she allowed him to lead her back and tuck them in and spoon up behind her, hand on her stomach.

“So why would I hate you?” she asked the second they were settled. He touched his forehead to her hair.

“Because.”

She sighed and squeezed his hand. “You don’t have to tell me, I guess. I just want us both to be open with each other.”

“I want to be open,” he said. “But I don’t want you to throw me out.”

“Nosty, you know I’m not going to throw you out.”

“Maybe not onto the streets, but I don’t want to be in the other room either. I want to be here with you.” He pulled her closer, and she closed her eyes.

“Is it because of your past?” she asked. He nodded. “Do you think you’re—” She swallowed, considering the implications. “—Forcing me?”

He didn’t respond, and then slowly, he shook his head. “It’s nothing to do with you. It’s me.”

“Are you afraid of premature ejaculation?” she asked, hoping this wasn’t too forward. “Because if you are, that doesn’t bother me at all.”

He snorted. “No, not since I know how easy you are to get off.”

It felt like she’d run out of ways to ask him, so she squeezed his hand again and snuggled into him. “Okay, well, if you ever want to just lay back and be taken care of, you let me know.”

“I do not want that!” he said, tightening his arms around her. Her eyebrows flew up.

“Okay, okay, it’s okay.” She stroked his hand. “It’s up to you.”

“Belle, I feel—everything about you. And I don’t want it tainted.”

Finally, something resembling an answer. “Tainted?”

He pulled her so close against him, she could feel his ribs. “When I was with anyone else, it was always about me.”

She didn’t want to breathe for fear of distracting him, so she lay completely still, waiting for him to continue.

“I didn’t care about them, I just cared about being powerful. And I know you’d tell me if I did something you didn’t like, or went too far, or hurt you, but—”

She waited longer than she wanted to before saying, “But?”

“I don’t want to feel that way with you. I don’t even want to feel that way in secret. I just—I asked you to beg me earlier, and that was—”

“I didn’t mind,” she said quickly. “I liked it. I like you.”

“Good.” He loosened his grip on her enough to slip both his palms under her shirt. “But I don’t want to be that person with you. I don’t even want to feel like him.”

She bit her cheek, stifling the I love you trying to claw its way out. “Whatever you need to feel safe,” she said. “And if you ever change your mind, you’ll tell me.”

“Aye.” His hands crept upward, each cupping a breast. “I want to be done talking now.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, going limp as he massaged both breasts, rolling his palms over her nipples. “We might get bored.”

“I think we’ll manage,” he said, just before sliding his hand into her knickers.

#nostelle #anyelle #anyelle fic #anyelle fanfic #anyelle fanfiction #nosty x belle #nosty #covetous #new update #nostelle fic

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worryinglyinnocent · 4 years ago

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Fic: Déjà Vu

Summary: Macelle. Exploring the churchyard of the small town she has just moved to, Belle finds a statue with an uncanny resemblance, and she starts to wonder if perhaps she has been here before, and if she knew the church’s priest in a former life...

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling December moodboard prompt, available here.

Rated: G

Note: Ealasaid is an old Scottish name from the same root form as Belle.

Déjà Vu

The statue wasn’t frightening as such, no more frightening than any old statue standing alone in a churchyard was, but there was something about it that Belle found distinctly unnerving, nonetheless.

It was likely something to do with the fact that looking at the statue was like looking into a mirror. A weather-worn and lichen-covered mirror, certainly, but a mirror all the same. She recognised the face in the statue as her own, and she really wasn’t sure what to do with this new discovery.

She was so intent on staring down her stone doppelgänger that she didn’t notice the church door opening and the priest coming out and walking down the path towards the statue until he was right beside her, and she jumped out of her skin when he spoke.

“The mystery angel.”

“Pardon?”

“The mystery angel.” The priest nodded towards the statue. “It’s the town’s only claim to fame. No one knows the origins. It’s as if one day it was just here, with no record of how it arrived. No one commissioned it; no one paid for it. No one even saw it being put up. An unsolved mystery.”

This explanation of the statue’s background, or lack of it, did nothing to quell the growing feeling of unease in the pit of Belle’s stomach.

“There are old stories, of course,” the priest continued. “There always are. Some say that the priest who served here a couple of hundred years ago was visited by an angel and fell in love with her, and she with him. She couldn’t stay with him, not whilst he was mortal and she was a heavenly celestial, and although it broke both their hearts, she had to leave him. She left the statue as a reminder, and an anchor to draw her back to her love once she’d found a mortal form.”

Belle smiled. Although the story was a sad one, it lifted a lot of the creepiness away from the statue.

“Did she return in mortal form?” she asked.

“Some say she did. Others say she didn’t.”

“What do you think?”

The priest looked at the statue for a long time. “I don’t think she did. Or at least… I don’t think she has done yet. Finding a mortal form might take a while.”

“I’m Belle, by the way. I’ve only just moved here.” She turned to face the priest fully at last, holding out a hand.

“Father Macavoy…” He trailed off, hand still frozen in hers as he got his first proper look at her face, mirrored in the statue beside them.

“Yeah.” Belle hoped she sounded apologetic. “That was pretty much my reaction when I saw it too.”

“I…” Father Macavoy regained his composure and shook her hand firmly. “Welcome to the neighbourhood, Belle. And, you know, it’s all just a load of old stories. There’s probably a perfectly innocent explanation for it all. Like someone losing the church records somewhere along the line.”

Belle smiled, but at the same time, she knew that Macavoy was about as convinced by his own words as she was.

He turned to go back into the church, and Belle fell to studying the statue again, but as he walked back up the path, she could see him sneaking astonished glances at her back over his shoulder. She tried to look like she wasn’t watching him walk away.

There was something in his face that seemed familiar. It hadn’t at first, but now, thinking about him and his expression of wonder when he had seen her…

Belle shook away the feeling and turned away, leaving the churchyard. She was determined not to go back to it for a long time.

She tried to put it to the back of her mind, but her train of thought kept leading her to things that she also wanted to put to the back of her mind.

Why did Macavoy seem familiar? Why had she come to this town in the first place? What was it that had drawn her here? At first she’d thought that it was just because this was a quaint little place in the middle of nowhere and she’d get along nicely here writing her book.

Now she wasn’t so sure. Why here over all the other quaint little places she could have chosen? What had drawn her to the churchyard as soon as she had arrived – before she had even finished her unpacking from the move?

Something had made her go and find her statue.

Belle shook her head crossly. It wasn’t her statue, although there was definitely an uncanny resemblance. It was the church’s statue. It just happened to look like her. Honestly, the thing was covered in moss anyway, it probably hadn’t looked anything like her when it had first been carved. And after all, it was extremely presumptuous and self-important to think that she could have been an angel in a previous life. An angel would probably remember that they had been an angel.

Not if they were mortal now, a helpful voice in the back of her mind pointed out. Normal mortal people don’t believe in past lives and certainly can’t remember them.

Belle sighed. Her mother had been one of the most sensible people she’d ever known, but even Colette French, with her head squarely on her shoulders, had a superstitious and spiritual side to her. Déjà vu, she always said, was a sign of your past lives getting confused.

And Belle had been suffering odd flashes of déjà vu ever since she’d arrived in the town.

Could she really have been here before in a previous existence? Could she really have been an angel who fell in love with a priest and promised to return to him?

And the priest… No, Macavoy could not have been him. The statue had been there for hundreds of years, after all.

He still seemed very familiar.

Logically, Belle knew that she was dreaming. She knew that she could probably wake herself up if she wanted, but this wasn’t a nightmare that she wanted to get out of. It was weird, yes, but she wanted to see where it went.

She was in the churchyard.

Joseph… My Joseph… Where are you? I’ve come back for you, like I promised I would… I’m sorry it took so long… I never realised just how fragile mortals are… Did you wait for me, Joseph?

She passed by the statue without giving it a second glance, moving into the church itself.

Belle knew that she had not been inside the church, and yet, when she stepped inside, she somehow knew that she was looking at the correct interior, not simply something out of her imagination. If she woke up and went into the church in the morning, she knew that it would look exactly like this.

Maybe if she was awake, that thought would scare her, but as it was, she just let it wash over her. She had more important things to do.

Joseph? Joseph? Are you here? I’m sorry it took me so long, my love… Joseph?

The church was empty, and Belle felt herself beginning to panic in the dream. Something was wrong. Where was Joseph? Who was Joseph?

She left the church. She was moving at run now, slipping in among the graves in the darkness. She was looking for something, dreading finding it but needing to see it anyway.

Joseph! Joseph! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to have to wait so long!

Belle stopped in front of the stone. How did she know it was the right one?

Two hundred years… Oh, Joseph!

The emotional turmoil was scary now, and Belle found herself wanting to wake up. She closed her eyes in the dream. It was a technique she’d used before when she’d had nightmares in this lucid dream state where she knew she was dreaming. Close her eyes in the dream, and when she opened them, she’d have opened them in real life and be safe in her own bed.

“Belle?”

She felt a touch on her shoulder, and she recognised Father Macavoy’s voice. She turned, but it was too late.

She opened her eyes on her on bedroom ceiling, and sat up, feeling cold sweat dripping down her back.

Something was definitely going on, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it, no matter that it was the middle of the night.

Belle got out of bed and threw her clothes on, grabbing a flashlight and setting out of her cottage along the long lane that led up to the churchyard. She ignored the angel statue, heading straight for the headstone that she’d seen in her dream that had caused her so much distress.

Joseph Macavoy, 1772 - 1820, Father of this church…

Belle didn’t know why she was crying. Crying for a lost love that she sort of half-remembered from a dream, a memory of another life…

Joseph

She felt a soft touch on her shoulder, and someone said her name.

Her name that wasn’t Belle.

“Ealasaid?”

The voice was barely more than a breath, and Belle recognised it. She recognised her name. It had taken her a long time to find a mortal form with a mortal name, but she remembered her other one.

And so did someone else.

She turned and saw Father Macavoy behind her. He looked as dishevelled as she no doubt looked, as if he’d had exactly the same thought as she’d done: waking from a far too real dream, needing to come to the churchyard to see the reality of it for himself. She wiped her eyes.

“Relative of yours?”

Macavoy nodded. “Distant uncle many times removed. I think. Everyone said it was fate when I ended up taking this church, but I think it was more than that… Ealasaid…”

“Joseph…”

They had never kissed before, not the first time she had visited this earth. The sheer force of her celestial will would have killed him.

But she was celestial no longer. She was mortal like he was, and his lips were soft against hers, and his mouth tasted of toothpaste, and she wanted to stay in his arms forever.

It had taken her a while, but she had finally returned, reborn into a mortal form. And here was her Joseph, reborn into another mortal form and waiting for her like she had asked him to, like he had promised to do.

Her statue had guided her home in the end.

#A Monthly Rumbelling #anyelle #anyelle fic #macelle #Belle French #Joseph Macavoy #Fic: Déjà Vu

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nothingeverlost · 5 years ago

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People who should meet: Joseph MacAvoy (The Tournament) and The Preist (Fleabag)

#andrew scott #robert carlyle #the tournament #fleabag #joseph macavoy #so much drinking #and really interesting theological discussions #especially on the nature of sin and forgiveness #and desire and sex #people who should meet

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januarywren · 4 years ago

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I finally have time to start my fanfic recommendation list! This is something that I’ve been dying to do for awhile, especially when most people are still in quarantine/social distancing.

“Gently at Twilight” by Bad_Faery is a Once Upon a Time crossover with The Tournament. Regardless of whether you know either of the series, it truly stands out as a romance story, all on its own. 😘❤

There’s Belle, the sweet, stay at home worker who moves into a haunted cottage and her beloved cat who can see the recently departed Joseph MacAvoy. Unable to move on, Joseph soon falls in love with Belle...

And it’s so, so very sweet, and as realistic as it can be. With only a smidgeon of angst, and relatively little religious implications about the afterlife (no matter what you believe), it’s truly a wonderful story, and will make your heart melt!

I fell in utter love with the story when I read it, and Bad_Faery has other works too, all of them worth a read. ❤❤

#wren's fic recs #gently at twilight #bad_faery #once upon a time #the tournament #joseph macavoy #belle (once upon a time)#once upon a time fanfics #ghostly romance #fluffy fanfic #romance #must read #archive of our own #ao3

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shiftingmuse · 3 months ago

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Father Joseph MacAvoy - The Tournament

#father joseph macavoy #the tournament #2010 #action movies #robert carlyle #joseph macavoy #father macavoy #{Protect this man at all costs!}#images by me

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therosepetalrps · 2 months ago

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🎬 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 @shiftingmuse 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 🎬

independent, semi-selective, and multi-fandom muses from 𝗥𝗢𝗕𝗘𝗥𝗧 𝗖𝗔𝗥𝗟𝗬𝗟𝗘'𝗦 𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗠𝗢𝗚𝗥𝗔𝗣𝗛𝗬; including Rumplestiltskin, Durza, Francis Begbie, Joseph MacAvoy, Nicholas Rush, Danny Devine, and more. written by 𝗖𝗬, 21+

❝ ᴏꜰ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ yᴏᴜ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴀᴛᴇʟʟɪᴛᴇ — yᴏᴜ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴀʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ yᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ꜱʜɪɴᴇ ᴀꜱ ʙʀɪɢʜᴛ ❞

𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐒 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 𝐀𝐎𝟑

❝ ʜᴀɴᴅꜱ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ, ɪ ꜰɪɴᴅ — ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ɪᴍᴩᴏꜱꜱɪʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ yᴏᴜ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ yᴏᴜʀ ᴍɪɴᴅ — ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏʀᴅᴇʀ, ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇꜱ — ɪ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇꜱꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪꜱ ʜᴀʟᴏᴇᴅ ɪɴ yᴏᴜʀ ᴇyᴇꜱ ❞

#( ; therosepetalrps graphics gifts )#( gotta put the boys under shrink wrap for you so they don't spoil lmao )#( ; promo )#shiftingmuse #rp promo #indie rp #robert carlyle rp #anyelle rp #rumbelle rp #ouat rp #horror rp #fantasy rp #sgu rp #tw flashing lights

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notonlymice · 11 months ago

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"haha what if I jokingly shipped them" + anyem/anyelle

#anyem #anyelle #anyem meme #ally craig x nicholas rush #hierophant x father joseph macavoy #(i know hiero/ives is a more obvious choice but both the tournament and operation: endgame have the same gory why-have-i-watched-it vibe #+ whatever feelings hiero had about religion = a match made in heaven lol)#belle french x barney thomson #lacey french x lachlan macaldonich #(these two would probably drink themselves to death though🙃)#alice shelly x hamish macbeth #tom monroe x phoebe macnamara #(though alice x tom and hamish x phoebe work too #since both tom and hamish are policemen and their plots allow supernatural assumptions x))

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ask-father-macavoy · 3 months ago

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"Confession is open, I do understand it is a day in which you may want to confess your sins or derive from them today. In either case I do wish all of you the best with out without the guidance of the lord."

confession - submission

#father joseph macavoy #robert carlyle #the tournament #anyelle #anyem #ask blog #rp blog #independent roleplay account

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xiolaperry · 5 years ago

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So I finally got around to watching “The Tournament” because of, well, this guy. Not my favorite movie or anything, but I did love Robert Carlyle in it. But the best thing is the amazing Macelle stories that I’ve gotten to read by @bad-faery. I just finished “Gently at Twilight” and it was SO good. Seriously, go to her masterlist & check it out.

#the tournament #robert carlyle #fic rec #bad-faery #macelle #joseph macavoy

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beeeinyourbonnet · 1 month ago

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Covetous | Chapter 24

Pairing: Nostelle

Rating: E

[read on ao3]

-------------------------------------

It was Tuesday before Nosty worked up the nerve to talk to Kaz, and Belle privately wondered if that was because he wanted to talk things over with his therapist first. He didn’t come to work with her on Monday and he mentioned nothing Monday night, and then on Tuesday, he holed himself up in her office, but Kaz never showed up.

“I thought she came every day?” Nosty asked, surveying the parking lot with his brows drawn and his foot tapping.

“Mostly.” Belle unlocked the car and stuffed her purse in, but Nosty didn’t move toward the passenger side, didn’t even take out a cigarette. “Nosty, she’s not here. She’d have come inside if she was. She’s not you.”

That did get a reaction out of him, though not much more than a quick glare. “Are you worried?”

Belle licked her lips. That was the trouble, wasn’t it? “Of course I am, but I’m always worried. I was always worried about you any time you weren’t here. So I have to just—not worry.”

He stared at her, eyes wide somehow though his frown had deepened. “What do you mean? How do you just turn it off?”

“Well.” She opened the car door and held it there, tapping her fingers while she considered her words. “Early on, I had to tell myself that if I drove myself mad with worry, I wouldn’t be able to work, and then I’d lose my job and wouldn’t be able to help anyone. I’m no use to the world if I’ve burned myself to the ground.”

She almost yanked the door in with her when she sat too hard, wrenching her shoulder as well. Nosty finally opened his side and climbed in while she stretched it out.

“I don’t have a job,” he said. “So what’s my excuse?”

“Your excuse is that you know Kaz very well and that you know she’s capable and sometimes unreliable.”

“Yeah, and I know what’s out there, so I know one slip and she could be smeared across the fucking street.”

Belle winced, slamming on the brakes when she started to back out.

“Sorry,” Nosty mumbled while she checked and rechecked all of her mirrors. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

“We’ll see her tomorrow,” Belle said.

They rode home in silence. Nosty had left some things at the church, and they hadn’t discussed whether he lived with her full time or not now, just that they would both stay with Joseph when Kaz moved in. For now, Belle told herself they were not moving too fast because he did have a place to go if something went wrong, but secretly, she hoped he never spent another night away from her.

On Wednesday, Nosty didn’t want to spend a second day inside, so he rode to work with her, kissed her goodbye, and disappeared. Kaz did show up that day, out of it and slurring, so Belle tucked her into the couch with a movie and let her sleep it off. Nosty met her at home for dinner, not even bothering to stop in to say hello.

When they got to the library on Thursday, Belle turned the car off and didn’t unlock it.

“What?” he asked.

“Are you going to ask Kaz today?”

He clenched his jaw and shrugged. Belle pursed her lips.

“Your hair appointment is on Saturday, and you wanted to do it before you looked too different. So it’s today or tomorrow.”

Instead of a response, he kissed her and then disappeared. She rolled her eyes. He had therapy that afternoon, so maybe that would give him confidence again.

Since Joseph was bad with computers and still didn’t have enough of a congregation to warrant hiring a staff—other than Nosty, who had agreed to clean on Saturdays for now, since he was unlikely to find a job while awaiting a possible prison sentence—Belle set to work that morning making flyers to advertise for volunteers. Nosty was serious about doing something for homeless people, but he had no experience organizing things, and Joseph should have had experience but had spent too long neglecting his flock. The main tasks thus fell to Belle until she could find a congregant to volunteer.

Kaz was sitting at a table and doodling when Nosty reappeared after therapy, and Belle could have sworn that he made himself smaller to avoid her as he slunk through the door, bypassing Belle entirely in favor of her office.

Belle met Kaz’s eyes and shrugged, waiting until she’d returned to her drawing before following Nosty.

“Wasn’t sure she’d be here,” Nosty said instead of hello.

“Are you going to talk to her?” Belle asked.

Nosty sank further into her chair and said nothing.

“Nosty, you’ve waited four days. Are you changing your mind?”

He glared at her. “What, you think I’m such a piece of shite?”

Belle jerked back in surprise, and Nosty curled in on himself, staring at the floor.

“Sorry,” he said. “Sorry, I know you don’t.”

Belle walked over to his side of the desk and laid a hand on his shoulder. He gripped it hard.

“Did you have a difficult appointment?” she asked carefully. He stared forward for a few seconds, then nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head. “Thirsty,” he said.

He’d had difficult sessions before, but she’d never been with him, and she’d never been trying to rush him into a difficult conversation right after. “Why don’t I make tea and you can take some to Kaz?”

Nosty pulled her hand off his shoulder and toward his chest, where he held it in both hands like a comforting stuffed toy.

“Okay,” he said.

Once he let go of her, she filled her personal electric kettle and plugged it in, then went back to rub his scalp.

“What if she’s angry?” he asked, eyes drifting shut. She ran her fingers down his neck and he shivered.

“Angry about what?”

“Angry it took me this long,” he said. “Angry for—other shite.”

“She might be angry,” Belle said. “You’ll just have to let her be.”

He turned big, baleful eyes at her, reminding her so much of Joseph, she almost laughed. “Let her?”

“Nosty, you have learned enough in therapy to know that her feelings are valid,” Belle said. “So yes, let her.”

“I know her feelings are valid.” He closed his eyes again. “That’s the problem.”

Belle kissed him on the head, and then the kettle whistled and it was time for Nosty to take tea out to Kaz and ask her to move into the church.

“Where do you want me to be?” she asked.

“At the desk,” he said. “I’ll talk to her outside.”

For the first time, she watched Nosty assemble his swagger piece by piece, like he couldn’t quite remember which bit went where. Eventually, he had two cups of tea and clenched teeth, but he strode from the office without looking back when Belle opened the door. By the time she made it to her desk with her own cup, Nosty was bent over the table speaking low to Kaz. Kaz glanced back at Belle, who smiled at her, and then followed Nosty outside.

In an effort not to spy on them, Belle set herself back to the task of making a list of things that would need to be done in order to host a soup kitchen. She’d only made it to five things when Nosty stormed back into her office, slamming the door behind him. Seconds later, Kaz stomped in, snatched a few granola bars and a water off the cart, and then stomped back out.

All Belle could do for a minute was sit and stare. Should she go to Nosty? Should she follow Kaz? Part of her philosophy was that she provided a safe space but didn’t leak into any other part of anyone’s life, but she’d broken that rule with Nosty.

Since Nosty was no longer homeless and in danger, Belle rushed after Kaz, but there was no sign of her when she jogged up and down the block. She pinched the bridge of her nose. This wouldn’t keep her away forever, would it? And what had he said?

With no way to reach Kaz, Belle headed back in. She needed Joseph here to man the desk, but things were still delicate between the three of them, the wound still tender, so she hadn’t asked him back to the library.

Nosty sat on the floor of her office, back to the wall, forehead against his knees. Saying nothing, Belle lowered herself to the ground next to him, and all he did was tip himself sideways until he rested against her. She wrapped an arm around him and they sat in silence for a minute, but she couldn’t just spend the rest of the afternoon in her office, as much as she wanted to.

“Nosty?” She kissed him on the head. “Was she angry?”

“No.”

She didn’t want to argue with him about it, but Kaz had seemed pretty upset when she’d stomped out. She squeezed Nosty, and he lifted his head, stretching his legs out.

“She wasn’t angry until I got angry.” He grabbed a fistful of his locks, tugging them taut. “I told her that the church had a bed for her, and she said she didn’t want it, and I—” He pressed his lips together.

“Told her what you thought of that answer?” Belle supplied.

“Aye.” He shook his head. “How stupid does she have to be? I mean, I know she sleeps at the shelter when she can, but that’s just a bunch of shite food and shite beds.”

“Well.” Belle leaned her head against his. “You left my flat when I offered it to you.”

He looked sideways at her. “Aye, but I’ve lived on the streets forever. I had no reason to trust that I’d keep a home. She had a home and a family. Friends.”

Belle tried not to be offended about this. If she punished Nosty for his honesty, he would never be honest. “So maybe she just needs some time to think about it.”

“Why?” He turned to her. “Is it because it’s me?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” She had no idea about Nosty and Kaz’s history with one another, and she didn’t want to know. If either of them wanted to share, they would. “Maybe she just needs some time to come around to the idea.”

Nosty groaned, head flopping back into his knees. “I know you have to get back out there, but I’m staying in here.”

She nudged him with her elbow. “You don’t want to spy on me from between the shelves?”

As she’d hoped, Nosty’s lip twitched. “Maybe later.”

****

Since Belle had assured him that he would know if the church would be getting another resident on Thursday, MacAvoy had summoned up the courage to ask them both to come to dinner that night, especially if Kaz would be with them. He needed a big gesture, something to show that he was making an effort.

Nosty hadn’t mentioned anything about Belle in his apology, but he’d spent most of their time together berating MacAvoy for treating Belle like a servant, so he figured that if he made dinner and cleaned up himself, that would go a long way.

Of course, the whole conflict had not cured him of his inability to cook, so he had to do something sensible. A celebrity chef had been on the local news to show everyone how easy it was to roast a chicken, and though he wasn’t confident in his ability to provide a perfectly cooked chicken, he was pretty sure he could at least overcook it enough to keep from poisoning everyone.

When Belle and Nosty appeared—holding hands—they were alone. That was probably for the best, because when he’d stuck a knife into what he hoped was the chicken’s thigh, he hadn’t been sure whether or not the juices streaming out were rosy or just catching the light wrong, and now he was certain the chicken was overcooking.

He met them at the door, then led them up to the rectory and the set kitchen table, where he had laid out mugs for tea.

“It smells good in here,” Belle said. Nosty grunted, and MacAvoy shoved down his gut reaction. He didn’t hate Nosty. He just had complicated feelings about the whole situation, which he would discuss with his new therapist at their first appointment on Monday. This was his mantra.

“Thank you.” He pulled the kettle off the stove where he’d been keeping it warm and filled their mugs while they removed jackets and bags, then took his roasting tray out of the oven and tented it with foil like the woman on TV.

“A whole chicken!” Belle took her seat, and her smile could have lit the room. MacAvoy stuffed that thought down as well—he could not be mooning after Belle. Nosty would rightly see that as a betrayal of his trust.

“Ambitious,” Nosty said. He rested his elbows on the table and plunked his chin into his hands in a gesture that MacAvoy could only describe as “glum.”

“So, just the two of you for dinner then?” He hovered over the fourth place setting. It wasn’t a big enough table to waste space with an empty plate.

“Just the two of us,” Belle said.

“What happened?”

No one spoke while he put the plate and silverware up, and he turned back to find them having some sort of silent conversation with their eyebrows. His heart clenched. Of all the times he’d thought that Belle and Nosty saw themselves as one unit and him as a separate one, he could see now that that hadn’t been true until he’d ruined everything.

“Well, Kaz wasn’t receptive to the idea of living in a new strange place just yet,” Belle said.

“She doesn’t trust me,” Nosty said.

“She didn’t trust me either,” MacAvoy said. “You’re not alone.” He joined them with his own mug and they all sat in silence, though he thought maybe Nosty wasn’t as glum as he’d been a minute ago. Progress.

“I think you should ask her again,” Belle said. “Maybe she thought it was too good to be true.”

“Again?” Nosty asked. “What if she doesn’t come to the library tomorrow?”

“You could always go look for her,” MacAvoy said. “Maybe she’d believe it if she saw you making a bigger effort than going to your girlfriend’s place of work.”

At the world “girlfriend,” MacAvoy couldn’t miss the way Nosty’s face softened, his hands loosened around the mug. He was happy to have Belle as his girlfriend—just as happy as Belle had been all those months ago when she’d thought she and Nosty would be together for good.

“Yeah, maybe,” Nosty said. “Are you ready for our haircuts, Joseph?”

MacAvoy almost jumped. Nosty never used his name when he could sneer out a Father instead. Was Nosty making an effort too?

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“At least your head won’t look the wrong shape,” Nosty said, peering at his mug like he could see his own reflection in the tea.

“You will both look handsome,” Belle said, and MacAvoy shoved his mug in front of his mouth. She had never complemented his appearance before.

Nosty didn’t have to hide though, and he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

“Someone’s gonna look at you and wonder why you’re with the skinniest, ugliest fuck on the block, and everyone bloke we pass’ll think I’m a god.”

Belle laughed, and even MacAvoy smiled a little.

His timer went off for the chicken to be done resting, and then he had to confront the fact that he had never carved a chicken in his life. When he was a kid, his father had always carved any roasts, and the skill had never been passed on to him.

“Do you need help?” Belle asked.

“No, no, stay,” MacAvoy said. He couldn’t ask Belle for anything on the night that he was supposed to be proving his own self-sufficiency. Carving a chicken couldn’t be that hard.

Nosty appeared in silence behind him, arms folded, and he almost dropped his carving knife.

“I can help.” Nosty held his hand out for the knife. “I’ve butchered a raw chicken. Can’t be much different, right?”

MacAvoy’s eyebrows flew up, but he handed him the knife handle. “When have you butchered a raw chicken?”

“Had a foster dad who was a butcher for about six months.” He shrugged, and MacAvoy glanced at Belle to see if she’d heard this. She was watching Nosty with as much adoration as he and Nosty showed to her.

“Well, thanks.”

He stood off to the side, and Nosty glanced over at him. “Don’t hover, hey? Go sit down.”

Nosty hacked the chicken into eight pieces, then Belle suggested he slice the breast meat, so MacAvoy took over because he figured he could do that, and it was probably the most civil the two of them had been sharing kitchen time ever. Perhaps now that Nosty wasn’t there all the time, they would get along more.

“It looks amazing,” Belle said, serving herself roast potatoes and carrots from the platter and spooning drippings over the definitely overcooked meat.

Nosty grunted again, but maybe this was a grunt of agreement? Maybe Nosty didn’t have the capacity to tell MacAvoy that he’d done a good job, but he wanted him to know that he agreed with Belle nonetheless.

“So you’ll ask Kaz again tomorrow?” MacAvoy asked.

Nosty sighed, world-weary and dramatic. “Aye, I guess I’ll ask her again tomorrow. When’s your first appointment with a shrink?”

Belle looked up at this as well, eyebrows raised, and MacAvoy’s first instinct was to lie and say he hadn’t made one. Why was he embarrassed?

“Monday,” he forced himself to say.

“Good.” Nosty pulled the bone out of a chicken leg. Was that a positive or a negative sign about his cooking skills? “If you want, you could come to the library tomorrow.”

Belle’s eyebrows flew up, and MacAvoy almost choked on chicken skin.

“Really?” he wheezed, glancing at Belle. “You don’t mind?”

“I certainly don’t,” she said.

Nosty peeled another piece of meat off the bone, focusing on his plate, and then shrugged. “I don’t mind either.”

MacAvoy could have wept.

****

Nosty came with Belle to work again, though he’d spent the morning distracting her from getting ready by luring her back to bed or the couch or the shower. She wondered if this was perhaps because he expected Joseph to come to the library and he was asserting dominance, but it could just as easily have been because he was anxious about the Kaz situation.

They arrived and he disappeared to lurk, which was a good sign as far as Belle was concerned. If Nosty was spending his time hiding out and watching her from the shadows, it meant he was feeling like himself.

Joseph showed up around ten, at which point Belle tried not to notice that Kaz hadn’t arrived yet.

“Where’s Nosty?” Joseph asked once he had his coffee.

“Around.” Belle gestured to the library. “He might come out to use the computers eventually, but I suspect he wants to feel like Batman for a little bit.”

“Batman?” Nosty’s voice appeared from much closer than she expected, and Joseph jumped, spilling coffee over his fingers.

“Do you want me to load the typing program?” Belle asked, grinning.

“Fine.” He appeared from between two shelves, startling Joseph again.

Nosty was distracted at the computers for a good hour while Belle chose some books for story time and Joseph manned the desk, typing away much faster than he had last week, but then he disappeared into the stacks again.

“Kaz is usually here by now?” Joseph asked when Belle set her stack of books on the desk for that afternoon.

“She is.”

But Nosty emerged a few minutes later with a book Belle knew he’d read at least three times and said nothing as he sat back at the computer. Since he spied on her so often, she didn’t think he’d mind that she stared as he opened a blank document, then opened the book and set his phone on it to hold it in place. Then, he started typing.

When Belle checked on him another hour later to see if he wanted lunch, he’d transcribed four of the book’s pages into his document.

“I don’t think she’s coming,” he said, not breaking concentration.

“It doesn’t look that way.” She touched his shoulder and his hands stilled. After a second, he closed his eyes and leaned into her.

“I guess I’ll go find her.”

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Belle asked. “Are you sure you want to go back?”

He leaned further into her. “I’m sure I don’t want to,” he said. “But that’s fucking selfish, ennit? I mean, it’s just bad memories for me. I’ll know that I get to go back to a nice flat with blankets and a heater and food on the table.”

Belle stroked his hair as best she could. It would be nice when it wasn’t such a big tangle, when she’d be able to run her fingers through it. “Do you want me to come with you?”

At that, he shot upright so fast, her hand almost flew into her chin. “No, I do not want you to. You stay here.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stay.” He settled again. “But if you need me to come get you, you call me okay? Don’t try to protect me. I’ll come in a taxi if you want me to.”

“How about if I need to, I’ll get in a taxi and come to you?”

“Okay.” She bent down and kissed him on the temple. “Do you want to take Joseph?”

He snorted. “You’re mad. Can you put together some stuff Kaz likes?” He waved his hand toward the snack cart.

“Of course.”

Ten or so minutes later, Belle had sent Nosty on his way with a pocketful of biscuits, crisps, and a chocolate bar.

“Should we be nervous?” Joseph asked as she took over the desk from him.

“I don’t know.” Belle rubbed her forehead. “Kaz was already gone one day this week, and I don’t know what that means for her yet, so I don’t have a guess about why she might be gone today too, other than that she didn’t want to see Nosty.”

“He’s doing very well,” Joseph said, voice careful. Belle shoved down the uncomfortable prickle in her chest at this. Joseph was turning a new leaf. He was not trying to undermine Nosty.

“He is. I’m really proud of him.”

“And this—this haircut?”

Belle grinned, glad to be looking at her computer instead of Joseph. “Kathryn suggested it for the trial. I offered to cut my hair off too, but he said if he had to cut his, I had to keep mine for the trial.”

“It’s probably a good idea.”

They sat for a few minutes, then Joseph went to make them both cups of coffee. When he returned, he hesitated before sitting down.

“What is it?” Belle asked.

“This Kaz—is she—okay? Will it be all right with her in the church?”

Belle shrugged. “She’s just a kid. If she can just have a safe place for long enough, I’m sure she can get back on her feet. Nosty says she just needs something stable and loving.”

Joseph nodded like he was psyching himself out. “Right. Okay. And—and do you think he’ll find her?”

Belle sipped her coffee, staring at the ripple in its surface before shrugging. “I really don’t know.”

****

Belle and Joseph were closing up the library when Nosty finally called. She fumbled with her phone for two rings before she managed to answer.

“Nosty!”

“Hi, Belle?” said a voice she thought was Kaz’s. In the background, she could hear shouting and sirens.

“Kaz? What’s wrong? Where’s Nosty?”

“He’s here, he’s—”

“Oi!” came Nosty’s voice in the background. “Give me the phone!”

Belle’s heart calmed, but she still found herself clutching at Joseph’s sleeve. “What’s going on?”

Someone else shouted, and then she heard Nosty yelling that he’d only meant for Kaz to dial, but then it all went muffled.

“He wants you to meet him at the emergency room.”

Still holding Joseph’s sleeve, Belle jogged toward the car, letting go when she realized he was stumbling after her.

“Kaz, can you put Nosty on the phone?”

“Paramedics won’t let me,” Kaz said. “Are you on your way?”

Belle threw herself into the car and turned it on while Kaz gave her the hospital information, and Joseph had barely shut his door before she was backing out.

“What happened?” he asked, struggling to buckle as she whipped out of the parking space.

“I don’t know, Nosty’s in an ambulance on his way to the ER.” Maybe she should have tried to ask more questions, but there was so much activity, she didn’t think it likely she’d have gotten any answers. “He seems to have found Kaz though.”

“The ER?”

“I could hear him in the background, so he was at least alert,” Belle said.

It was a relief to only feel anxious about Nosty’s health, not whether or not he might disappear. And there was certainly nothing like an emergency to put her and Joseph on more even footing. With a friendship built on crisis management, this might have reset the scales.

As soon as she parked the car, Belle flew into the hospital, Joseph shuffling along behind her. Kaz was stuffed into a chair in the waiting room, arms around a small trashbag, and she stood when Belle hurried over.

“Hi, do you—is that your stuff?” Belle asked.

“They took him back when we got here,” Kaz said. She peeked around Belle, clutching her bag tighter. “That’s Father MacAvoy?”

“Yes, and he would be glad to help you put your things in my car.” Belle waited long enough for Joseph to join her, then handed him her keys and left to find Nosty.

It took a few different nurses, but eventually a fearful one pointed out which communal room his bed was in, so she thanked her with the friendliest smile she could muster and hurried in.

Nosty sat up in the bed closest to the door with his arm stretched out on a tray next to him, wrapped in bloody gauze. The blood on his t-shirt, Belle was relieved to see, was just splatter, not from a wound underneath it.

“There you are, finally,” he said with a grin, and Belle swooped over to his free side to kiss him. He slipped his good arm around her waist. “What took you so long?”

“What happened?”

He heaved a sigh, wincing when his bloody arm moved. “Got stabbed.”

“Stabbed?”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

She quelled the urge to throw herself on him and check him for injuries. Clearly, the paramedics had at least stopped the bleeding, and it must not have been a life or death emergency or he wouldn’t have been sitting here, waiting.

“Getting stabbed sounds pretty bad. Who stabbed you?”

He shrugged, fidgeting with the hem of her cardigan and not meeting her eyes. Who would have stabbed him that he wouldn’t just tell her? Kaz?

“Nosty?”

“Look I just—” He squeezed his eyes shut and slipped his arm away. “Okay, I went back to me old spot, right?”

“Right.”

“And I looked like this.” He gestured to himself. He was dressed the same red kilt and white shirt he always wore, but it was clear he’d put on the shirt this morning, clear that it was laundered and well-kept—though bloodied now—just like the rest of him.

“And someone didn’t like that?” Belle asked.

He shook his head, frustrated, like he’d explained it so clearly and Belle had failed to understand, so she said nothing and let him gather his words.

“He was tweaking out, it wasn’t personal.” Nosty’s hand twitched, and he rubbed his finger and thumb thumb together so hard, sparks might’ve flown. “Kept saying ‘they got you, they got you’ and going on about chips and how he wouldn’t let me into his head, I don’t know.”

Belle settled against the edge of his bed so that she could stroke his hair. Nosty’s hand didn’t still, but he did settle against her.

“Anyway, Robbo tried to get him to back off, but then he started waving his knife around and I figured better me than Robbo since I’ve got you, and honestly, I thought I could take him no problem, but here we are.”

She kissed his temple. “And Kaz?”

“Fucking useless,” he said with no vitriol. “Stood off to the side until I got the knife away from him, then Robbo tackled him and suddenly her feet worked again.”

Belle snorted. “At least she called me.”

“Aye, and she was supposed to dial your number then hold the phone to my head so you wouldn’t have a fucking coronary.”

She kissed him again. “I could hear you screaming, don’t worry.”

He turned his head so she could kiss him on the lips this time, but after a few seconds, she pulled away. There was a curtain separating them from the other patients, but it wasn’t like this was a private room.

“Did you bring me anything?” he asked. “I’m starved.”

“No, sorry, I was rushing. I’ll go find you something?”

He kissed her again, and maybe it wasn’t so bad to be kissing behind this somewhat private curtain. Once she pulled away, though, she promised to return with something sweet and headed out in search of a vending machine.

After several minutes of wandering, she found one that had Nosty’s favorite chocolate bar, so she bought that and a bag of crisps before heading back to his bed.

The doctor’s voice trickled down the hall, so she sped up in case he was talking about wound care, but then she froze just outside the doorway.

“—managed to nick an artery this time, eh, Nosty?” he asked. “What happened? Someone interrupt you?”

“Oi, I got fucking stabbed,” Nosty said. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Belle walked in as the doctor was saying, “Well, they won’t be giving you another section two.”

“He’s not looking for a section two,” Belle said, voice so angry, she hardly recognized it. “He was stabbed.”

The doctor jumped, and Belle took the opportunity to insert herself on Nosty’s other side. If she could have put her body between him and the doctor, she would have, but the bed made it too difficult.

“And,” she went on before the doctor could respond, “If it was actually self-inflicted, what kind of person ridicules a man going through a mental health crisis?”

“All due respect, ma’am—”

“Respect?” Belle could have strangled him if she wasn’t holding a candy bar. “Nosty, is this the doctor who wouldn’t let you call me?”

The doctor’s eyebrows widened, as if he hadn’t realized that Belle wasn’t just some stranger who’d stopped in to pick a fight.

“No, I would never—”

“I wasn’t speaking to you.” She turned her back on him as best she could with Nosty and a bed between them. Nosty was smirking. “Is he the doctor?”

“No.” Nosty shook his head. “It was a woman last time.”

“Good. Now, what’s your full name?” Belle asked, opening a text to Nosty. “I’ll need it so I can report you.”

“I’m sure that’s not necessary, ma’am.”

Belle narrowed her eyes. “If you don’t give it to me, that’s fine, I’ll just ask one of the nurses.” She lifted her phone up and snapped a photo of him. “And if all else fails, someone will recognize you.”

“Oi, you just gonna stand there?” Nosty asked. “Or are you gonna do your fucking job and stitch me up so I can get out of this fucking hellhole?”

Belle wanted to smile at Nosty, but it would be more effective for her to stand and glare at the doctor, and after an eternity, the doctor nodded.

“Right,” he said. “Let’s get you stitched up.”

****

MacAvoy wasn’t in the hospital room, so he didn’t exactly know what went down other than, as Nosty put it, Belle put the fucking surgeon in his place, but he did know that all four of them stuffed into Belle’s sedan with a trashbag full of everything Kaz owned between her and MacAvoy was probably the most awkward twenty minutes of his life, even worse than being alone with Kaz in the waiting room.

Belle had planned on taking them all out for dinner, but since Nosty’s arm would be numb for several hours, she’d instead ordered pizza in to the church, giving Kaz a tour while she ate and Nosty and MacAvoy ate at the table.

“So who stabbed you?” MacAvoy asked.

“A protestant,” Nosty said, and MacAvoy scowled.

“You know, Nosty—”

“Oi, come on, Father, we’re supposed to be getting along, hey?” Nosty asked. “You can’t get mad at my personality.”

MacAvoy’s face relaxed into just a confused frown. Was Nosty maybe just—joking with him? Like a friend?

Belle and Kaz returned when he and Nosty were almost done, and he suspected that was purposeful, so he excused himself from the table and let Kaz sit. A quick walk around the rectory showed that Belle had already made up a room and put her trashbag in it.

Nosty joined him after a few minutes, an unlit cigarette in his mouth.

“We’re being kicked out,” he said. “Belle said to smoke one cigarette and then come back.”

So he stood out in front of his church in the cold while Nosty puffed away on his cigarette, numb arm hanging awkwardly at his side, and then they trudged up the stairs to find Belle in the living room.

“Kaz is in the bath,” she said. “And I told her that I’d sleep on the couch tonight to keep an eye on her door.”

“The couch?” MacAvoy said just as Nosty said, “I’ll stay with you.”

“Just for tonight,” Belle said. “Nosty, you’ll need help showering, won’t you? Let’s go now and get it over with.”

“Coming,” he said, and MacAvoy didn’t miss the way he all but sprinted toward the bathroom. He wasn’t even trying to hide that he and Belle were about to shower together.

MacAvoy sat at the little table where he wrote his sermons, contemplating this. Academically, of course. He was not thinking about what Belle and Nosty were doing behind his bathroom door. Belle had only been professional when she mentioned it, had only wanted to help him, and that was what she was doing. If he listened hard enough, he most certainly would not hear her cry out, would not hear animal noises from Nosty.

He pressed his forehead into his hands. Shut up, he willed his brain. He would have said it out loud, but if Kaz was like Nosty, he didn’t want to be snuck upon and discovered to be talking to himself.

But Belle and Nosty emerged well before Kaz, both in pajamas, and settled themselves on the couch with a pillow and a comforter, Belle between Nosty’s legs, leaning against his chest.

“How’s your arm?” MacAvoy asked.

“Tingly.” Nosty waved it, then settled it on top of Belle. “You ready for tomorrow?”

“What’s tomorrow?”

They all turned to look at Kaz, hair wet and wearing Belle’s sweats.

“They’re getting haircuts,” Belle said, voice heavy with impending sleep. Nosty’s hand in her hair rubbed lazy circles.

“Haircuts?” Kaz looked between Nosty and MacAvoy. “Nosty, you cutting yours off?”

“Aye. Solicitor said I had to.”

“And I have been blackmailed,” MacAvoy said. Nosty grinned. “Do you have everything you need?”

“I think so. I thought—” She fidgeted with the hem of her sweatshirt, and Belle lifted her head, eyes widening like she was forcing them open.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I thought we could watch a movie?”

“Oh, of course.” Belle started to sit up, but MacAvoy was faster, and Nosty pulled her back into him.

“I’ll put something on. I hope you like Batman,” he said.

Kaz nodded her agreement, then trailed after him like a duckling while he found the DVD box, and then while he fiddled with the TV, she curled up in the armchair.

By thirty minutes into the movie, Kaz and Belle were both asleep, and, as usual, Nosty was much more interesting than the film. He glanced at the TV every so often, but mostly he watched Belle, stroking her hair and adjusting his injured arm against her.

After a few minutes, their eyes met, and MacAvoy flushed, but he didn’t look away.

“What?” Nosty asked, voice harsh even as a whisper.

“Nothing.” MacAvoy shook his head. “Nothing, it’s just—nice. That’s all.”

Maybe it was the light from the TV, but he could have sworn that Nosty’s cheeks colored. He grinned. Had he made Nosty blush? That was the nicest part of the whole evening.

****

One of the subconditions in Nosty’s annotated and expanded conditions of forgiveness was that, if it was not possible to have two appointments side-by-side, Joseph would get the first haircut. He sat in the chair now, dropcloth draped around him, eyeing Belle and Nosty in the mirror.

“I feel like I’m having that nightmare where you’re in the locker room at secondary school and someone steals your clothes while you’re in the shower,” Joseph said.

“You think I’m gonna steal your hair and run?” Nosty asked.

“It feels that way.”

Belle patted him on the head. She would miss his hair—Nosty’s too—but it would all grow back.

“It’s for a good cause,” she said. “And we won’t just leave you here bald.”

“Bald?”

He settled when Belle and Nosty both snickered, and then the shampoo boy was taking him over to the sinks, so they took their seats in the waiting area.

“How are you feeling?” Belle asked.

“Worse than Joseph,” Nosty said. “I’ve had this hair for a fucking decade.”

She squeezed his hand. “We’ll go to the bookstore after this, okay? And we’ll get whatever you want.”

Nosty fell silent, so she squeezed his hand again and turned to watch Joseph. The stylist was brushing his hair out now, about to take the first snip. Joseph’s eyes met hers in the mirror so she flashed him a thumbs up.

She could hear the shears across the room, and then before they knew it, most of Joseph’s hair sat in a pile on the floor. She turned to Nosty to say something encouraging, maybe a see? that wasn’t so bad, but the words died in her throat when she saw his red eyes, clenched jaw.

“What?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head, staring straight at Joseph as the stylist went to work shaping. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. It’s just, um—” He licked his lips.

“Do you think he looks bad?”

His lip twitched. “No. I just—I haven’t owned any of me own books in years. Since I was a kid, probably. So, eh,” he licked his lips, “I’m losing my hair, but getting something else, I guess.”

“Oh.” How had she never bought him books? It hadn’t even occurred to her since he was in the library and her flat so often. “Well, you’ll need a bookshelf, then.”

“Can’t I share yours?” he asked.

She shook her head. “You deserve your own. And you’ll fill it with books.”

He wrapped his good arm around her and rested his chin on her shoulder, kissing her cheek, and then they watched for the next twenty minutes as Joseph went from long-haired priest to short-haired stranger. The stylist dried and styled his hair, running her fingers through it until it looked as mussed as hair that short could, and then she spun him around to present him.

“It looks great!” Belle stood while next to her, Nosty was silent.

“It’s not bad,” Joseph said, then flushed and turned to the stylist. “Of course, you did a great job. You were wonderful. No complaints.”

Belle grinned, and then he was climbing out of the chair and the stylist was coming over to collect Nosty, and he walked over like it was a noose.

“Okay, so we’re cutting all this off, but leaving as much as we can?” she asked.

“Right.” Nosty, staring into his own reflection, nodded. Belle had already taken pictures of him that morning, and pictures of them together, but she snapped another one now just in case.

“Okay, well we’ll do the initial cut first, and then Jess will take you to the sinks, all right?”

Nosty nodded, Belle took a step back out of the stylist’s way, and she raised her shears. Just before she could cut the first lock, Nosty yelled, “Wait!” His hand shot out to grab Belle’s arm.

“What?” Belle laid her hand over his, ready with either the arguments to convince him to go through with it or to convince him it was okay if he didn’t. “What is it?”

He swallowed hard, glancing at himself in the mirror, his locks wild and free, and then turned back to her. Taking one deep breath, he squeezed her arm like a security blanket, and looked her in the eye.

“I love you,” he said.

Belle was sure that her eyes filling with tears and her lip trembling was not the reaction that Nosty wanted, but she couldn’t help it. Her heart was so full, it had to spill out somewhere.

“I love you too,” she said.

Tentative, Nosty smiled, and then he released her arm and turned back to the mirror.

“All right,” he said. “Cut ‘em off.”

The stylist smiled at Belle, and Belle smiled back through the tears streaming down her cheeks, and then she raised her scissors and snipped off the first lock.

#nostelle #anyelle #nosty #anyelle fic #anyelle fanfic #anyelle fanfiction #new update #covetous #nosty x belle #belle x nosty #nostelle fic

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