Archive of Our Own ^beta

Giulio isn't known for his patience or his careful choice of with words. He is quite aware that his manners and personality have probably contributed a great deal in Aldo losing the papacy.

He isn't like Thomas or Aldo, though. He's not the type to wallow in self-pity and wounded pride, and drags a spleen like a heavy cloud wherever he goes. He's more of a denial and "let's brush it under the carpet" kind of man.

And yet, since the end of the concave, he tried to behave, learn his lesson and all that. His tongue is tied; he has dug up the good manners he had been taught as a child. He acknowledged that his ambition of putting Cardinal Bellini on the throne of St. Peter's had been just that. Ambition. Pettiness…

He had tried not to be like his father all his life. And yet.... Had he not been walking exactly in his father's shoes with his aggressive politicking and schemes? It hadn't worked well in the end. Because he had been blind to how many errors he kept doing again and again.

And now. Now he had to face the consequences of his own actions.

Aldo Bellini, the reinstated Secretary of States under Innocent XIV papacy, is dragging a heavy cloud of shame and humility and self-recrimination, worth a dozen tempests, wherever he goes.

Even now, as Rome has been covered in snow for the third time this year. Third time. They can count themselves lucky when they get snow twice in the same decade, and now with how climate change is messing up with the weather, they were blessed with snow at the beginning of advent season, and then again at Christmas —like a gift from God on the brink of Innocent's papacy, and now again a few weeks after Epiphany.

And yet, Aldo walks at a fast pace, not even taking a look at their surroundings, his head bowed. Giulio catches him by the arm, forcing him to stop and turn around.

"Please. Stop that now," he pleads.

Aldo tugs on his arm to free himself, frowning as if he couldn't understand what Giulio was even talking about.

"You act like a wet cat whenever we're alone. The mask you put on for Innocent and Lawrence and everyone else disappears. And then, the only thing left is the rift between us."

"Can we not talk about it, please? Not here," said Aldo through gritted teeth as he freed himself and turned away.

I get it. You're mad that you were not the chess piece you thought you were in Clement's scheme. I'm not even sure I was a pawn at all in it, now… I. Get. It.

Maybe desperate times called for desperate measures. Giulio didn't think twice about his action before gathering some snow between the palm of his hands and applying just the right pressure to form a small but compact snowball, and threw it at his friend's bald head with perfect precision. He had nieces and nephews, who had now children of their own, after all. With all the snow they had been granted at Christmas this year, he had been able to get quite a lot of practice back at snow fighting.

"Giulio, what has gotten to you?!" exclaimed Aldo as he turned around once more, grimacing at the snow that had fallen between his dog collar and his neck.

"Pardon my French, Aldo, but you've gotten yourself with a worst case of broomstick stuck in your ass than Lawrence. It calls for desperate measures." He said that with an unapologetic smile.

Aldo spluttered, and Giulio took the opportunity to make another snowball. Since they were facing one another, Aldo easily dodged the projectile.

"Giulio!" The chiding tone did nothing to deter him. He wasn't a child anymore, and besides, this tone wouldn't have affected him as a child either. Aldo glanced around them, and Giulio knew he had won. They were quite alone. The disastrous weather meant a slow day in the Vatican, with a bit of chaos in the city's bus system, and the cancellation of tourist visits and garden work.

Aldo crouched down to make a snowball, but Giulio just had to do a little sidestep to elude the projectile, even though the ball lost its shape mid air and became three separate projectiles. The Secretary of State was clearly out of practice. "You didn't press it hard enough," he advised, which angered Aldo even more.

The war had been declared and they chased around one another for some time. Aldo might be a frightening opponent on a chessboard, but Giulio found it all too easy to chase him until Aldo took refuge amongst bushes, and then behind a huge pine tree with low branches. It wasn't the easiest, to evaluate at short notice where they might be safe from view. He counted on Aldo needing a moment to catch his breath and crafting more ammunition as he circled the tree. He was hardly discreet, with the scrunching of snow under his feet and the dark shape of his robe against all the white of their surroundings.

There was a bewildered smile on Aldo's face as he pounced on him and pressed him against the ground. Aldo's chest produced a strangled sound as the air was expelled from his lungs.

"You are stupid Giulio," he laughed after a moment of shock had passed.

Giulio shrugged, catching his own breath. He was pressed over Aldo, with an arm in the snow and the other resting on Aldo's chest. It must not be very comfortable; Giulio wasn't exactly a light young man anymore…

"It's a good thing I'm not wearing my fascia. It would have been unsalvageable."

Giulio could read between the lines well enough, even without the small smile and the strange glimmer in Aldo's eyes.

"If you admit defeat and admit that three consecutive months of brooding is enough, and that it's time to talk about your feelings and start healing your wounds, then I might be magnanimous enough to get on my knees before you, when you'll have to change into a clean cassock in your office and kiss more than your cardinal ring."

"Giulio!" Aldo slapped him on the shoulder without force, just as he faked affront anytime Giulio's terrible sexy talk bordered too far into heresy. Which was like, every single time, actually.

Giulio arched an eyebrow, because he knew he was right, and it didn't take more than a handful of seconds before Aldo relaxed under him and admitted his defeat.