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The cobbles of Farnham's road were cold through Carlo's sandals and stockings. The year was drawing to a close, and that meant that the monastery was busy with advent and it's Christmas celebration preparations, so a trip to the town's smithy was a welcome break.
Formally, it was to order more iron crosses, the one's that would then be distributed back out to the town as a gifts along with food and other necessecities. Carlo remembered when he had been one of the laymen, looking forwards to the kind monks that would give exactly what he needed.
Informally, Carlo was unfathomably happy that he was the one given the opportunity to visit the blacksmith. Nobody knew, but the two had long been in a pure and holy relationship for years, the kind the lord wouldn't disagree with.
He smiled as he pushed the door open, the welcoming warmth of the forge billowing around him as he stepped inside. Oliver didn't notice him at first from where he was hard at work, bent over his current project.
Carlo let himself a moment too stare at his partner. His clothing covered every piece of skin, obviously, for his own safety, but there was still much to look at.
Carlo cleared his throat, and finally Oliver turned around.
"Good morrow," Carlo grinned as Oliver stepped away from the workbench and pulled off his leather gloves, revealing his rough, scar littered hands.
"Mine own heart's root," He gasped, rushing over to Carlo, his hands immediately finding the monks as a gorgeous grin lit up his face, "How fare ye? I didn't know you'd be in town today! Aren't you busy?"
"I've got so much to do it's suffocating me," Carlo groaned, "But I'm okay now I'm here with you."
"You're here for more crosses, yes?"
"Yes, but they can wait. I want to spend time with you." Carlo promised, "They won't notice I'm gone for a little longer, I'll tell them I noticed some rabbits in the burrow and they'll forgive me if I draw them."
Oliver laughed, the kind of laugh that lit up the room even with the torches burning above their heads. His canines gleamed in the light, sharp and lovely. Despite his age, he was preemptively greying, yet in Carlo's opinion, he was even prettier than when his hair had been short and blond. In fact, he was certainly prettier now, the whisps of grey hair that were escaping his messily tied bun framed his face in a perfectly darling way. Carlo's heart beat a little quicker at the site.
"I adore how creative you are," Oliver sighed, leaning his forehead against Carlo's.
He was so close that the monk could smell the way the smoke clung to him like the clove and rosemary the women in town wore as perfume. The blacksmith had his own smell under that, something undeniably Oliver, but Carlo didn't want to spend their finite time together thinking about what Oliver really smelt like, he just wanted to enjoy his company.
"Tell me what you've been up to," Oliver hummed, pulling away and heading back to his current piece of work. Carlo mourned the loss of contact, but understood that shaping metal had a limited time frame after being removed from the forge. It looked like it was going to end up being a sword, and before the feeling of sadness for the distance between the two men had settled in Carlo's heart, a deep seated love for Oliver and his artistry bloomed instead.
"What is there to say?" Carlo replied when he remembered he had been asked a question, "Same old at the monastery. I saw another spectre of Christ, and the monks are far more understanding than anyone in town was. Brother Sampson talks with the Lord on a regular basis, but I get to the honour of viewing him, which I personally think counts for more."
"It certainly does," (A/N It doesn't. My talks with the Lord count just as much as your visions do. Anyway) Oliver effused. He had always been understanding of Carlo's ability to see what no-one else in town could, and when everyone from the lord of Farnham down to the town's harlot had scoffed and pushed him away, Oliver had been there with open arms.
Carlo sighed, sitting in a wooden stool Oliver had for when pain wracked his body for no apparent reason. Although he had advised that the blacksmith visit the monastery's infirmary for these unknown pains, he steadfastly refused. He said he'd get distracted by Carlo and then their secret could be jeopardised, so Carlo understood, but didn't necessarily agree. Especially given that Oliver instead went to the town's "wise" woman instead. But he digressed.
"I'm so sad that we can only steal moments like this," He said instead, watching as the hammer came down on molten metal, shaping it slowly, "You were, and still are, such an important part of my life. I can't believe I'm unable to sneak into your house whenever I want to see you now… I miss you."
Oliver paused his work, squinting as he looked over at Carlo.
"You know I love you, lambkin?" He said softly after a moment, "I love you more than I love the birds in the sky, more than I love the cold air after a long day in here, more than I love being a blacksmith. I love you with my whole being, and I'm so glad that I get to spend any time with you at all. You mean the world to me."
"Oh." Carlo said, because that's all he could say after an outpour of emotions from the usually grumpy blacksmith like that. He felt tears beading in his eyes, "Well. Well I love you too, obviously. My world has been irrevocably altered just by knowing you. You have inspired me so much, I love you wholeheartedly, dear culver."
Oliver smiled softly, rounding the workbench until he stood just before Carlo. Slowly, his hands came to cradle the monk's warm face, lifting it so Carlo had no other option than to look in Oliver's eyes and watch as they fluttered close as he leant down and pressed a chaste kiss on his lips.
"I will admit I miss being able to seek you out just to kiss you whenever I feel like it," He said as he pulled back, "I love you."
"I love you too." Carlo breathed.
"Hale be thou, you're as red as a cherry," Oliver snickered, pressing more kisses across Carlo's face.
"And whose fault is that," Carlo huffed, although he made no effort to stop him, "It's really quite unfair how unaffected you seem. Are you really as besotted with me as you claim to be?"
He expected more laughter, perhaps a flick to the forehead before Oliver got back to his work, but Carlo was taken off guard when instead the blacksmith dropped to his knees before him, hands clasping together in some sort of imitation of prayer as his head hung between the monk's legs. When he looked up, his eyes stood with utter devotion. Carlo gulped.
"I can show you just how besotted I am," Oliver said calmly, "If you could spare a few more minutes."
"Well." Carlo hummed, running a shaky hand through the blacksmith's hair, "There have been many rabbits today. They held me up for… hours, I daresay."
"Perfect," Oliver sighed, leaning his chin against Carlo's knee with a devious smirk, "I'll show you loving you'll never forget."