Chapter Text
Years later, Henry will not believe his own naivety when he thinks back to the early days of his and Hans’ relationship.
Because he doesn’t think much of Hans’ endless demands, only remarks to himself that they seem to be getting sillier and sillier, and that if Hans wanted to spend time with another boy his age he might as well just ask. Henry would be pretty happy to spend a night at the tavern with him, now that he’s not in charge of seeing Hans out at closing time.
All that to say, on an early morning, he rises from his straw bed down in the Pirkstein courtyard, washes his face in the nearest trough and puts on the nice shirt Hans gave him a few weeks ago. He’s kept it preciously, has it washed and perfumed regularly. It might be because it’s the nicest garment he’s ever owned. It might be because he feels like Hans hid a little meaning behind that gift. And offering of peace, certainly. Even friendship.
Hans has asked Henry to meet him a little after dawn on the remparts and accompany him to meet an elusive and mysterious book merchant dealing in rare tomes. Henry hadn’t really paid attention at what exactly Hans wanted to buy, when the other man is very prompt to drown the important parts of his stories in countless details that make Henry laugh, but don’t help him focus.
Of course, when Henry reaches the agreed upon meeting spot, Hans isn’t there. Only a few guards patrol and nod at him when, after five minutes of waiting and watching the sun rise, Henry decides that Hans must still be in bed. Nevermind, he thinks, it won’t be the first time he has to knock on the noble’s door to remind him of something important.
He pauses in front of Hans’ bedroom and clears his throat without knowing why, stands a little straighter and fixes his hair. Then, he raises a hand and knocks three times.
The ‘yes’ that comes in reply is a little muffled but Henry thinks nothing of it.
To his credit, he would argue, what else was he to assume other than Hans inviting him in?
He pushes the door open and freezes.
Henry is twenty. He knows what it looks like when someone is wanking, even under blankets.
“Jesus Christ!” Hans cries out when he notices Henry, a few seconds too late.
Henry’s mind has blanked. He cannot seem to move, tear his eyes away from the shape of Hans’ arm where it was frantically moving just a second before, or take his hand off the doorknob.
“Get out!” Hans shrieks, and the high pitch finally pushes Henry into action.
Before he can take in more details about the state Hans is in, he pivots back outside and slams the door shut. His breath comes in fast now, his heart racing.
He might be in trouble.
And yet, instead of running away to hide somewhere Hans won’t find him, he presses his ear close to the door and listens to the faint shuffling and rustles of fabric coming through.
“Um… Hans?” he asks after a minute. After all, he hasn’t been dismissed. And he had been looking forward to what amounts to a day off for him. It has been a while since spending time with Hans felt like duty at all. “Should I leave or…”
“I’ll meet you in the courtyard!” comes the reply. Hans’ voice a little steadier now, more composed. “Just give me a – fucking – minute!”
It sounds like Hans is struggling but Henry pulls back from the door in near panic. He doesn’t want to know anymore if it’s because Hans is fighting to put on his clothes, or to… finish. Henry closes his eyes and opens them right away when his mind provides an image far more vivid than what he’d seen earlier. He shakes his head, and rushes down into the courtyard.
Thankfully, he can get lost in the company of Mutt and Pebbles to soothe his nerves and stop worrying about what the punishment is for catching a noble in the act, albeit with himself. He is almost resolving himself to going back to one in the myriad of errands he has to perform around town when rushed footsteps slap down the wooden stairs and he looks up to find Hans trotting down to meet him. His hair is perfectly brushed back, his pourpoint neatly buttoned. A far sight from the state Henry found him in earlier.
Henry clings to Pebble’s mane with one hand, bracing himself. Hans’ expression is unreadable as he crosses the courtyard in easy strides, coming to pause before Henry with his shoulders straight as ever.
“Well then?” Hans asks. “What are we waiting for?”
Henry scans the noble’s face for a trace of anger, or humiliation. But Hans’ earlier shame seems out the window and there’s even a twinkle in his eye…
“You, actually.”
Henry holds his breath for a beat, until laughter pours out of Hans.
“You’re quite right! Sorry about earlier. You know how it is, certain needs have to be tended to.”
“I thought you normally went to the baths for that,” Henry says with half a smile, pushing off Pebble’s comfortable heat to stand straight, and follow Hans as he leads them out of the courtyard. The sun is barely rising now, the city still plunged in darkness save for the few specks of light of the guards’ torches.
“I can’t bloody go to the baths every time my pizzle needs pulling,” Hans replies, nose high in the air and haughty even though Henry has to snort every time he speaks that dreadful phrase.
“Your finances wouldn’t survive it, is that it?”
“More like Hanush would tie my noble arse to my bed. Anyway, don’t think I’ll forget you coming in without being invited.”
“But you – !”
“No no Henry, I will simply have to get revenge.”
Henry opens his mouth to retort but the light of a guard’s torch flickers nearby so he grabs Hans’ arm to tug him against a wall, lowering his voice to a whisper:
“Remind me why we have to sneak out again, Sir?”
Sometimes he remembers to address Sir Hans properly. Hans doesn’t seem to mind much anymore when Henry forgets and hardly ever reminds him.
“Because this vendor deals in precious and rare books, some of which I can’t be seen acquiring.”
Henry wrinkles his nose. “You’re taking me to buy forbidden books?”
“Not… exactly.”
“Then what?”
Hans peers past the angle of the building and gestures for them to resume their walk.
“You’ll see.”
“And what was that about revenge?”
“Hm? Oh,” Hans raises a finger and talks too loud for the stealth operation they’re apparently on. “I’ll simply have to catch you at it to get even.”
“At it…”
Henry’s cheeks flush hot as he gets Hans’ meaning. Surely he doesn’t mean… He forms half syllables, a terrible attempt at a protest that doesn’t evolve into a real sentence and Hans laughs at him. In a way that surely means this was in jest… Right?
They leave Rattay through the lower gate, to the faint light of a half moon and the stars. Henry inhales the scent of dew settled on the grass, the herbaceous smells filling his lungs. They always remind him of his mother, somehow. Hans is prattling on about something but he doesn’t seem too upset when he finds out Henry has not been listening for a while.
“So where is that mysterious book dealer of yours?” Henry asks once they’re past the baths. His cheeks warm at the idea they might walk past the mill and Theresa will be asleep. He hasn’t been back to see her since their evening at the inn ended so disastrously and he can’t help but be a little ashamed that it’s not he hasn’t had the time, rather… he hasn’t thought about it until now.
“He’s supposed to camp by the river.”
“Why doesn’t he stay at the inn and sell his wares on the market place?”
A hand lands on his shoulder, a half-hearted clap that ends in a hold that’s almost tender.
“Henry… you really haven’t been listening, have you. I told you about the nature of the books the man sells.”
“It is sounding like you’re taking me to buy forbidden books after all.”
Hans’ tut is enough of an answer to confirm Henry is right. He groans and Hans shakes him by the shoulder gently, chuckling. “Come on, it’s been a while since our last adventure!”
Henry can’t help but soften into a smile. So this is what it is after all. He’s about to say that Hans doesn’t need an excuse for them to spend time together when Hans lets go of his shoulder and Henry slips in a muddy pot hole.
“Ah, fuck!”
Hans cackles and surely it’s too dark for him to spot Henry’s glower as he helps him up. Shame.
“Come on, blacksmith’s boy. I think I can see a fire past the mill. We’re almost there.”
They reach a small encampment comprising of a cart, a modest tent and a fire by which a man in lavish clothing – certainly not discreet for someone who seemingly deals in possibly forbidden books – that would have made Henry feel little and underdressed if he’d not been wearing the beautiful red and gold shirt Hans gifted him a few weeks ago. Hans had failed to comment on Henry wearing it today. Henry isn’t sure how he feels about that.
“Good day to you, noble traveler!” Hans calls out to the silhouette sat on the bench. The man raises his head, edges of his face covered by a black hat. Henry nervously puts a hand on the pommel of the modest sword he’s taken with him, just in case. Hans’ survival instincts are still as dismal as ever, it seems. He follows closely at his Lord’s side but relaxes when the stranger stands and his face illuminates with a smile.
“My, if it isn’t young Lord Capon! God be with you, my Lord,” he speaks and gives a little bow with a hand over his heart.
“I’m glad you recognise me after all these years,” Hans grins.
“Well, it isn’t often I meet a young man so eager to dive into rare literature. And you, sir…” he trails off with his gaze pointed at Henry.
Hans’ hand is back on Henry’s shoulder as if it had never left. “This is my friend Henry,” Hans says.
Henry’s face warms. It is the first time Hans has called him something else than his page or a peasant in polite company. He stares at the other man’s face. The fire makes his eyes glint and casts the shadow of his nose onto his cheek.
“A fellow seeker of knowledge?” the merchant asks.
“Henry is here to make sure I don’t get into trouble,” Hans laughs before looking at his own hand, as if suddenly realising where he’s put it, and taking it back.
“Quite so, quite so,” the merchant chuckles. “I assume you’re here to peruse my collection.”
“In fact… I’m looking for a specific tome,” Hans replies, voice going more serious. “Henry… would you mind waiting at the edge of camp?”
Henry frowns despite himself. What was the point of him coming all the way here if he’s not even going to have a look at something scandalous? He’s about to argue when he catches something in Hans’ look that reads strangely like a ‘please’.
“All right,” he huffs, and walks back a few paces, his eyes never leaving Hans’ back as he steps into the merchant’s tent. His hand goes back to grip his sword for want of something to do. And his mind, now unoccupied, takes him back to Hans’ room and the young Lord’s yelp when he’d noticed Henry’s presence. Henry hadn’t had the time to see much. In fact, Hans had been under the covers after all. He expects his head wouldn’t still be attached to his body if it had been otherwise. Sure, he’s seen Hans in his braies in the baths, and he’s stripped next to him at least twice by now. But there has to be a limit as to what intimacies they can share before Henry gets what’s coming to him.
He loses himself to ruminations on what would be his punishment and doesn’t see the sun rise. He is only shaken out of it by a soft touch between his shoulder blades that makes him jump.
“Some body guard you make,” Hans grins. He’s got something under his arm.
“Did you find what you wanted?”
“Hm? Oh yes, we can go back now.”
“What, that’s it?” Henry prods in disbelief.
“Well we can stop at the baths if you want,” Hans says, nudging Henry’s shoulder. Henry’s skin under the shirt is starting to feel raw from all the attention it’s getting.
“What I really want is to go back to sleep after you made me get up at the crack of dawn, and you weren’t even ready!”
Hans’ expression turns almost sheepish, his lips pursed. Something crackles in the air between them, but Henry is too sleepy, too confused to analyse it. Instead, now that a pale yellow light envelops the country, he leans close to Hans’ armpit and squints at the letters on the book cover.
“Lancel…”
Hans squeaks and tugs the book out of his sight then, in a flash of madness, tucks it under his pourpoint.
“When did you learn how to read?” he asks, voice high with outrage.
Henry pretends to go for the book and Hans’ hand stops him, catching him by the wrist. Their feet have stopped their slow progression back to Pirkstein and for a while, the only sound around them is their own heavy breathing.
“Few weeks ago,” Henry croaks.
He can feel the outline of the book where his fingers have landed against Hans’ pourpoint. Hans’ hold around him almost burns.
“Then surely you’re not good enough to read this yet,” Hans sniffs, and releases Henry with a little shove.
Henry rubs his wrist and trots to catch up with Hans when he picks up his pace. He decides to drop this whole book business and go back to a far more amusing teasing.
“Sir Hans?”
“What now?”
“Earlier when I knocked on your door, why did you invite me in?”
Hans scoffs and turns towards him without pausing his strides. His gait is a little silly, what with holding one hand against his belly to keep the book in place. Henry is a few seconds away from bursting out into uncontrollable laughter.
“I didn’t, you dolt!”
“But you did! I knocked and you said ‘yes’…”
His own words reach Henry’s ears and his brain and he finally makes sense of what happened. And despite his best intentions of embarrassing his Lord, a hot burst of shame and confusion rushes blood to his face and he has to slap a hand over one heated cheek.
“Oh.”
“Yes you idiot! And this is why I shall have my revenge. Don’t expect to get out of this without consequences.”
Henry’s mind reels at the thought of what he not only half-saw, but heard. Well, there is nothing for it. He’ll just have to wait for the consequences.