Archive of Our Own

0. Catty Cardinal

Aldo Bellini is often compared in likeness to a cat. He hates it.

He's not blind; he can see where the resemblances lie. His hygiene is immaculate, his movements have a certain flowing grace to them, and his voice turns shrill whenever he raises it, to name a few. He wouldn't have minded the comparison if it hadn't been hurled at him as an insult.

Aldo remembers Cardinal Krasinski as the first to voice the sentiment. It was seven years ago, on his trip to the Vatican. Aldo's only been a Cardinal for a year, and it was his first public argument with a fellow Cardinal. One from Tedesco's faction, at that.

"Now, now, let's not be so brash with one another," the man had said. "You act like a cat when you are angry, Eminence. Wouldn't want to embarrass you further in front of the crowd."

Krasinski and his friends laughed at that. It was a typical bad insult for the "young boy" in their corner. It shouldn't even sting. But to be treated that way on his first time in the Vatican as a Cardinal was humiliating beyond measure.

He regrets being too caught up in his shock at the time to stop himself from arguing further. He couldn't recall exactly what he said anymore, but he remembered doing a lot of yelling. As a result, his first impression of Krasinski and his friends was that of a hot-headed, easy-to-rile newbie. Worse, the comment stuck, earning him the title "The Catty Cardinal" among his brothers.

The nickname only serves to make him more irritable. Unfortunately, his reactive tendencies only added more fuel to the flame. It's a perpetual hell cycle.

Children, the lot of them.

I. A Change of Clothes

Aldo sighed, the bathroom mirror reflecting the annoyance on his face back at him. He has a meeting with the Holy Father, and Tedesco is going to be there. The mere idea of the man's presence always seems to pull the memories to the forefront of his mind.

He did one last check to see if his cassock was unwrinkled. Satisfied, he smooths down his fascia with his palm and heads out.

Striding down the hallways of the Apostolic Palace, he opened the folder in his hand. His eyes skimmed over the bullet list he made of today's discussions. It's not long, for which he is deeply grateful.

Tedesco has some demands to improve his Archdiocese in Venice and would like to hear the Pope's opinion on how to deal with a problem his priests are facing. An odd request, likely a test for the new Holy Father more than anything. Aldo must be at his best if he is to advise His Holiness on this matter-

Aldo bumped into something and heard a splash. Pain. Hot, searing liquid is seeping through his cassock, onto the skin of his chest.

"Ngh!"

"Oh, great Heavens! I am so sorry, Your Eminence!"

It's Father Haas, eyes wide and face pale. In his hand is a plain white paper cup stained with spilled coffee. Coffee that is now trickling down Aldo's clothes.

Father Haas took his prolonged silence as indignant shock, which isn't completely off the mark. The man pulled out some tissues and started dabbing at Aldo's clothes. It was too late. The tissues tore apart more than they absorbed any liquid, sticking starkly on the black fabric, making more of a mess of his cassock.

"Stop," he grabbed the priest's wrist, his face tight. "This isn't going to work."

Haas froze, staring at him like he was facing certain doom. Aldo blinked. Father Haas is not one to ever anger him, the man respects their hierarchy too much to be troublesome. Does he truly think Aldo was going to do anything to him?

Catty Cardinal, the voice in his head whispered. Their words have some merit to them, don't you think?

Aldo took a deep breath, letting go of the man's limb. He will not escalate the situation today.

"I'll survive, don't worry about it," he said, because saying 'I'm fine' would mean lying in the eyes of the Lord. "Why are you hurrying so much, anyway?"

"C-Cardinal Tedesco requested a coffee, Your Eminence," Father Haas gulped. "The dispensers didn't work for a while. I fear I am running late."

Ah, so the poor man is assigned to be Tedesco's liaison. Aldo's not the only one around having a bad time from this incident. Father Haas has it worse if he's going to deal with Tedesco all day.

"How's your hand?" he asked. "Did the coffee burn you?"

Father Haas opened his palm, revealing unblemished skin. "No, Eminence."

"Good," Aldo nodded. He grabbed Haas's shoulders. "Now, I'd advise you to get a replacement as soon as possible. Don't get dining hall coffee. It's too far to go back there, and Tedesco hates them. Go use the coffee maker in my office. You know how to use those?"

The man nodded.

"Alright," he patted the man's upper arm. "Go. Don't keep him waiting."

Father Haas bowed so deeply that Aldo thought the man's head was going to fall over. "Thank you, Your Eminence!"

The man then scurried away. Aldo sighed, looking down to assess the damage on his person.

The dark color of his cassock disguised the liquid enough, but the coffee would still stain it. His fascia is beyond saving. He'll be late if he goes back to change, but he can't go into the meeting looking like this, not to mention how uncomfortable it all is.

From the stickiness, he thinks the coffee might have at least three whole tablespoons of sugar in it. Is that how Tedesco takes his coffee? How is he not a diabetic yet?

His hand also feels sticky. His eyes glanced over at it.

The documents! 

Aldo quickly opened his folder. The brown liquid has seeped through the stiff paper. Some of the documents are salvageable, but not the important ones; many among those are for the meeting he's supposed to attend in ten minutes.

"Oh, come on..."

Aldo hurried away, passing corridor after corridor. The sound of his soles hitting the ground echoed through the halls. He couldn't afford to miss the meeting. He'd be troubling the Holy Father, and Tedesco will hang his unprofessionalism over his head for God knows how long.

As he neared the building's exit, Aldo stopped in his tracks. His eyes noticed a cloud of white vapour, obscuring locks of more salt than pepper hair.

"Where is that boy?" The gruff voice muttered. "Non chiedo la luna. What's taking him so long?"

Tedesco is walking in his direction. The man hasn't realized he is there, but it won't take very long until he does.

Aldo gritted his teeth. This must be a nightmare.

"Aldo?"

He turned to the sound of his name. Pope Innocent XIV is looking up at him, head tilted to the side. Aldo doesn't know how he didn't hear him coming. Perhaps it's because His Holiness chose to wear sneakers instead of the usual dress shoes.

"Your Holiness, I..."

The man didn't wait for him to finish. His eyes roamed over his torso as he stepped closer. Much closer than what Aldo is used to interacting with other people. His shoulders involuntarily raised, and his breath stopped.

The Holy Father looked beyond him for a beat before his sharp eyes met Aldo's.

"Come on."

Aldo is being dragged by the arm to the exit. Powerless to do anything else, he tries his best to cover himself up with the soggy folder he's still holding.

"Cardinal Tedesco!" His Holiness greeted the man with a wave. "I'm afraid we must delay our appointment for about half an hour. Something has come up that needs our attention. I promise this won't take long."

Aldo couldn't believe what he saw next.

Tedesco opened his mouth to protest, and is immediately silenced by the younger Pope raising an eyebrow at him. Just a raised eyebrow, silencing the Patriarch of Venice! Aldo's lips wobbled from the sheer effort of suppressing the mad cackle threatening to come out.

"Of course, Your Holiness," Tedesco bowed. Aldo thinks he would've rolled his eyes if they were in a less public area. "I was waiting for someone else, anyway."

"Then it's settled," the Pope's expression relaxed. "We'll see you again soon, Goffredo!"

They walked away without looking at Tedesco's reaction. Aldo felt like he had just run a mile. It was the most exhilarating thing to happen to him since the conclave.

The Pope looked up at him. "You have a room in the Casa Santa Marta, yes?"

It was then Aldo realized His Holiness had gone out of his way to save him. He went so far as to reschedule the meeting, probably setting back his daily schedule by quite a bit. All so Aldo wouldn't have to suffer being tardy, even if it wasn't his fault.

Normally, Aldo would feel embarrassed. At worst, he'd be offended, being treated as if he couldn't deal with his own problems.

This just felt... nice.

"Yes," he said. "My room is on the fifth floor."

Innocent smiled at him. They are still holding hands.

"Then let's get you fixed up."

II. Work Break

Aldo didn't know what to make of Pope Innocent XIV at first.

His first appearance as Vincent Benìtez was shrouded in secrecy. They were in a most important assembly, and this man was an unknown variable.

Aldo tends to be suspicious of new people. Like a cat.

He wasn't the happiest to see the new Cardinal there, knowing the late Pope had deliberately gone against his advice not to appoint a Cardinal in pectore, especially one from the younger man's station. He was worried for the man's safety. More than that, he felt he was slighted by a friend and mentor. And he was still mourning him.

Contrary to most of his fellow brothers, his last vote wasn't cast for Innocent. He still believed Thomas was going to emerge victorious. He did receive 21 votes at the end. Quite the amount, all things considered.

Now that he's worked with His Holiness for two months as Secretary of State, he thinks it's for the best that neither he nor Thomas was elected. Vincent Benìtez made a fine Pope.

First and foremost, His Holiness is charming. The people of the Church supported him in no time, and he is a media darling loved by the masses. Coupled with the fact that His Holiness is nothing but genuine, even those who oppose him couldn't do much. Aldo knows he'll never amass support like this even if he worked himself to the bone.

He took off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. His head is starting to hurt, and the monitor is drying his eyes.

Despite being a caffeine addict, he foolishly thought he could miss his morning serving for the day. What can he say? He's giving caffeine detox a try. Purging his bloodstream of the drug could stop him from being so peevish for all he knew. Maybe he shouldn't have been so optimistic.

Aldo leaned back in his seat, lethargic, hands over his face. He should just give up and grab that coffee while he can.

He hears the sound of soft footsteps, then a thunk of something being set on his desk. The aroma he breathed in is so divine that he almost drooled.

He opened his eyes. It's a heaven-sent mug of cappuccino.

"Have a drink, Aldo," Innocent nudged his shoulder. "You look like you need it."

"You didn't have to do this," he said. "I was about to get it myself."

"I don't mind," His Holiness replied, raising his own mug. "I was grabbing my own, anyway."

Another thing that made Pope Innocent XIV so popular is his attentiveness. He knows what Aldo looks like if he's popping a migraine. He knows he should open Thomas's office windows if he's feeling claustrophobic. He knows when one of the nuns' close relatives is due for a baby and she'll become an aunt. What he doesn't know, he'll find out, and he does it all naturally.

"Thank you," he muttered, and raised the mug to his lips.

To his surprise, the coffee was creamy and slightly sweet. Not at all the bitter water he expected. He looked up at Innocent in askance. The other man shrugged.

"I knew you liked a teaspoon of sugar and more milk in your cappuccino if you can get away with it," he said, with the cadence of one talking about the weather. "I figured you could use some indulging."

Well. Case in point.

"Maybe they should call you a cat for being so observant," he sipped his drink, and choked after he heard his own words.

If Innocent knows everything about his staff, he must know that cat is a snub remark to Aldo. Dear Lord, did he just insult the Holy Father?

Aldo was about to correct himself, but Innocent laughed. The soft ring of his voice soothed his pounding headache. Aldo almost forgets what he's panicking over.

"I'd prefer if you call me Vincent," he said. "But I'll go with whatever works for you."

The man is honest to God giggling. Can a Pope even giggle like that?

"I am being serious, though," the laughter died down, but he's still grinning. "I would like you to call me Vincent, at least when it's just us."

"Alright," Aldo scratched his cheek, feeling a little off-kilter. "I'm sorry about the comment. It wasn't meant as an offense."

"I know."

His Holiness- Vincent, now, he supposed, sipped the drink in his own mug. His eyes did not move away from Aldo for a second.

Aldo resisted the urge to gulp. So Vincent did know about the accursed moniker.

Vincent put down his mug where Aldo's was on the desk.

"You should pay them no mind," he said. "I rather like cats. They're good company."

It was a miracle Aldo didn't choke on his coffee a second time.

III. Morning Routines

Aldo's alarm clock went off early. He grumbled, despite setting it himself. He's trying to integrate a new morning routine into his schedule, namely stretching.

He keeps his body fit enough, but he's an old man getting older. He could feel his muscles and joints grow stiffer with each they he spent hunched over a desk. He thinks of Thomas, who is about two years younger than him. Sometimes it takes him ten minutes just to tie his shoes.

Aldo shuddered. He'll have to do something if he wants to outrun that fate for longer.

Coming out of the bathroom, he puts on a long-sleeved t-shirt and a pair of old track pants. He wonders if he should just do the exercise in his room or go out and enjoy the fresh air.

He opened the curtains to his windows. It's already bright for the hour, and the air is pleasantly cool. By the time he's done, the sun will be perfectly warm for his aching body.

Stretching under the sun? He thought. How very catlike of me.

Aldo wasn't going to let the thought stop him. It's quiet enough outside that there won't be eyes on him as he exercises. He's not going to squander the opportunity God has given him to enjoy a fine morning.

He felt a little silly waiting for the elevator to come down, but he tried to quell it. He's doing something for himself, for once! The least he could do is not be embarrassed about it.

The elevator door opened. There's Vincent, clad in a running jacket, a pair of shorts, and carrying what seems to be a rolled-up yoga mat.

"Oh!" the man said. "Good morning, Aldo. Out for a jog?"

Aldo was so stunned to see the Pope so underdressed, he almost didn't realize Vincent was still holding the door for him. He stepped inside, and they descended.

"Good morning, Vincent," he replied. "I was thinking about stretching. I don't think I'm strong enough for a jog around the Vatican."

"Then you should join me," Vincent said. "I do a little bit of yoga inside in the mornings, but the air felt nice outside. I couldn't resist."

Aldo looked at him in disbelief. Yoga day with the Pope? This is shaping up to be an odd morning.

He wasn't planning for any company, but he thinks Vincent's is not so bad.

"I'm here already," he shrugged. "I might as well do it with somebody."

The elevator opened, and the two walked out to the front area of the building. They found a secluded corner with some potted plants, less dreary than the rest of the place.

Vincent unrolled his mat and got ready for a warm-up.

"Do you have a routine in mind?" he asked.

Aldo rubbed his neck. He thought about it and spent the night researching stretching routines. There were too many to choose from, and he got overwhelmed. He was going to just do whatever felt alright in the morning.

"Ah, no, I don't," he shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't know what I'm doing."

"It's good that you ran into me, then," Vincent said. "Here, let me show you how I usually do it."

Vincent guided him through the basic warmup, then they started doing yoga in earnest. There are a lot more movements and poses than Aldo was expecting. All of them are more interesting and difficult than the last.

Aldo's whole body shook when he tried to maintain what's called a "downward-facing dog". Vincent was kind enough not to comment on it.

Likewise, Aldo did not comment on how graceful Vincent looked doing the tree and the triangle. He thinks it might ruin the moment.

He was losing his breath. Thank the heavens the routine was starting to ease up. He did a forward high lunge, which felt really good for his back. He raised his chest up, arms reaching out to the sky.

"Like this?"

Vincent did the head tilt he does when observing something, tapping on his chin. Aldo could feel those dark eyes tracing his form and had to suppress goosebumps.

"Close, but not quite," he said. "Your back needs to curve more..."

Aldo doesn't like being touched, but he felt the other man's hand through his thin shirt, gently guiding his body into place. It felt warm, not the way other people's touches would feel prickly on his skin. He stopped listening, letting Vincent open his arms wider and lift his chin higher.

"There," he nodded, satisfied. "Feels better, right?"

Aldo is not sure if he felt better from doing the pose correctly or from being so carefully handled by another person, but he nodded back nonetheless.

Eventually, their session had to end. Aldo is sore, but fresher than he's felt for the past week. Overall, it was a half-hour well spent.

"Thank you for accompanying me, Aldo," Vincent said. "Will I see you here again tomorrow?"

Aldo helped Vincent roll up his mat, already thinking of getting one for himself delivered tonight.

"I'll think about it," he said instead. "I'll let you know if I'd like another go."

Vincent beamed, and Aldo thought he couldn't refuse anything Vincent asked of him.

Evening came. Aldo is unwinding after a long day in the garden with Thomas. They walked, talking about their respective days. Both are fairly boring, aside from Aldo's yoga morning.

A stray cat burst out of the bushes, meowing at the two men. It's a tabby, a bit on the thinner side, and not a little dirty.

Thomas hunched down to pet it. "Why, hello there, little fellow."

The cat sniffed his hand, hissed, and ran to hide behind Aldo, much to Thomas's disappointment. Aldo smirked. His friend's tall stature probably frightened the poor thing. Aldo is a much friendlier option in that regard.

Aldo crouched down and petted the cat, which it received gladly. Thomas straightened himself up, grumbling to himself as he watched the scene.

"I guess that's cats for you," he muttered. "They only accept touches from the people they like, don't they?"

Aldo thinks back on the morning, how Vincent's hands felt warm and reassuring on his back.

"Yes," he said. "I suppose they do."

IV. Worthiness

Let it never be said that Aldo Bellini is a calculating, unfeeling man.

He and Thomas got into a disagreement regarding how to deal with a scuffle within Tedesco's faction. Disagreements within an Archdiocese aren't unheard of, but apparently Tedesco's problem is bad enough that he felt the need to reach out to the Holy Office once more.

Aldo was more than happy to leave the matter alone. Let Tedesco have a taste of his own medicine after years of creating division and unrest within the Church. God willing, he'll learn some valuable lessons and change his ways.

Thomas, however, disagreed, saying it's their responsibility to look out for their brothers in need. If Tedesco felt he couldn't handle it himself, then it must be a dire problem. One unstable Archdiocese would affect them all.

"I am not a supporter of him, same as you are," he said. "But you are a former Archbishop, Aldo. How would you feel if you requested help from the Holy Office and they refused you? It would not help endear us to them, and they might become more trouble for us in the long run."

They did not argue, but Aldo is struck by how Thomas felt the need to use politics to have him be empathetic, however subtle. He was angry that Thomas was able to reason his way into having Aldo help Tedesco. More than that, he is disappointed in himself for losing his heart to his hatred. Again.

Of course, Thomas was right. He shouldn't let a division happen in the Church because of his personal feelings. He's better than that, though now Aldo wonders if he ever is.

He sits in his office, praying. They were right not to appoint him Pope. If he acted like this in his Papacy, who knows how long the Church will hold under him?

Aldo hears knocking on the door. He knows who it is before the door opens.

"I'm sorry to intrude," Vincent said, closing the door behind him. "I texted you, but you weren't responding..."

Vincent trailed off, presumably from seeing Aldo's disheveled state.

"Hello, Vincent," he said. "I'm sorry, my phone is on silent."

Vincent walked over to him, head bowed in concern. When he reached him, he pulled a seat in front of him, and they sat knee-to-knee.

"Aldo, dear," he said. "Talk to me."

So, Aldo told him everything, how he felt inadequate after his talk with Thomas, and how he needed a reason to be empathetic. He detested Tedesco, but had accepted what seemed to be an inevitable win for Tremblay. He even accepted a bribe!

His hatred is strong enough for him to throw away common sense. Hell, he thought his hatred was common sense. Should he even be here, as Pope Innocent's Secretary of State?

"Maybe you should've put Thomas here instead of me," he said. "I am of no use to you like this."

Vincent stared at him for a moment, then held his hand. The movement of his thumb helped Aldo relax, even now.

"Please don't say that," Vincent said. "You are all valuable to the Curia, and to me. Your differences are what enrich us all."

"Not all differences are good."

"And not all of them are bad," he countered. "Do you know why I chose you to be my Secretary of State instead of Thomas?"

Aldo shook his head. He assumed he was never going to know.

"Thomas is a kind man, with a bit of a bleeding heart," he said. "He makes an effort to know each of the Cardinals personally, what foods they eat, and what languages they speak. He suffers when his brothers suffer. A person like him is an asset, suited perfectly for his position."

"I hear a but coming."

Vincent smiled.

"As Secretary of State, you preside over more people and affairs, but the job itself is a lonely one. Thomas wouldn't know what to do with himself if he stays here for too long."

Aldo chuckled. "He told me exactly that when he held this position briefly. Before I did."

"You, however, have the fortitude for working alone." Vincent added. "You have a sharp eye to spot things that could be improved, and the intelligence to say exactly how."

Aldo smiled wryly. "So, a lone hunter. Like a cat."

"If we must put it that way, sure," Vincent huffed.

Aldo frowned at their joint hands. He doesn't deserve to be touched like this, gentle and calming. He wanted to pull away, but he knows he'll hurt Vincent if he does.

"What if I don't like being that way?" he asked instead. "What if I end up bringing more harm than good?"

"You can certainly change," Vincent said. "Nobody is ever stuck as just one thing."

Aldo felt a hand on his cheek. He looked up. Vincent is smiling at him, full of respect and love.

"But if you ask me," Vincent whispered. "I don't think you will bring us to harm."

"How can you be so sure?" Aldo asked, his voice coming out hoarse.

"You had the wherewithal to consult with someone else when you're feeling uncertain, like your talk with Thomas today," Vincent nodded. "You don't think you can stand on your own two feet, and that's a good thing. Much great wisdom is earned through humility as the first stepping stone."

"My judgment wasn't the most sound."

"You were misguided. We've all gone through it, and it will happen again," he said. "That's why your differences are valuable. There is no growth to be found where struggles don't exist."

Aldo breathes, then he chuckles.

"I can't even wallow in self-pity around you, can I?" He asked. "You're just so reasonable."

"I have to be," Vincent smiled, his grip on his hands grew firm. "To me, you are my tactician. My trusted advisor. I would be lost long ago without you."

Aldo doubts it, but his eyes grew misty all the same.

"And you are my dear friend," Aldo said. "I will stay by your side as long as you need me."

V. Bonus: Proximity

The sun is setting. Aldo was having a private stroll through the Vatican gardens when he heard it.

Sniffling. Quick, shallow breaths that would turn deeper with no discernible pattern. Soft sighs. Someone is crying.

Carefully, Aldo stepped towards the source of the sounds. There, on a bench, sits a figure covered in white, his dark hair and skin stark against the fabrics.

Vincent is holding some papers in his hands, and he is weeping.

Aldo didn't know what to do. He doesn't know how to comfort a person beyond a confessional, much less how to comfort the literal Pope. What if his awkwardness makes things worse?

But he can't just leave Vincent there, can he?

Aldo walked towards the other man. Slower, as if Vincent would run if he saw him. His shadow covered Vincent where he stood, and the man finally looked at him.

"Hello, Aldo," Vincent said. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

"Nor I you," he said, already feeling unequipped for this. "Is there something wrong?"

Vincent looked down at the papers, then held them out to him. Aldo took them, scrutinizing each page like clues to a puzzle.

It was a newspaper, the headline showing a bombing attack on a shelter in Kabul. Then there are pictures of people. Men, women, and children. Vincent is there among them.

Aldo took a sharp breath. It's the refugees Vincent tended to back in Kabul.

"Oh, Vincent," he murmured. "I'm so sorry."

Vincent cried harder upon hearing those words. Aldo quickly sat next to him, their sides flush against each other. He held the papers in one hand, the other curling around Vincent's shoulder.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Aldo whispered.

"Yes," Vincent croaked. "But not now. Can we just stay like this?"

"Of course."

Vincent laid his head on Aldo's shoulder, and they sat like that for a while. Vincent finally has the chance to cry with someone since he first received the news, and Aldo is glad to be the rock he leans on.

The sky turned a beautiful orange, the air growing colder. The two men were kept warm by the closeness of their bodies, breathing in unison.

"You know," Vincent starts. "I do like this about you, the way you comfort people."

Aldo blinked. "What do you mean?"

"If you don't know what to say, you won't say anything," he answered. "But you'll stay by someone's side until they feel better, no matter how long it takes. Your presence is warm and grounding."

Aldo huffs, but he smiles anyway.

"So, like a cat?"

"Yes," Vincent nods. "Like a cat."

Aldo Bellini is often compared in likeness to a cat. For the first time in his life, he finds he doesn't mind.