Work Text:
There was nothing quite like working the forge so when the blacksmith at the Den started complaining about his workload, Henry jumped at the chance to help. The heat of the furnace, the sound of the hammer hitting the metal, the smell of the coal, the sweat running down his back. But the thing he loved most was how close he felt to his father. He could picture him beside him, watching proudly, waving away his mistakes and reminding him he can always try again. That the only real failure is giving up.
Henry rose with the sun, careful not to wake Hans Capon as he crept out of their room, eager to get an early start. He ate a quick breakfast and fed Mutt some leftover meat before heading to the forge. He set to work repairing weapons, forging horseshoes and new work axes. He didn’t know how long he’d been working when the Den slowly started coming to life. He could hear the other occupants clambering down into the inn and workers beginning their day. Henry was in the middle of forging a new axe when Hans arrived, yawning.
“Fucking hell, Henry. I don’t know how you get up so early.”
Henry let out a small laugh, moving the axe head back into the forge, heating up the metal, “we can’t all be so lucky as to have nothing to do all day.”
“It’s a burden,” Hans said with a solemn nod. Henry smiled, shaking his head fondly as he moved the axe around the fire, evenly heating it ready to forge. He removed it to examine, replacing it when he deemed it to cool. He glanced at his companion curiously.
“You never come to visit me when I’m at the forge,” Henry stated casually, transferring the axe back to the anvil. He picked up his hammer, giving it a few whacks. There was a reason Hans never visited and he was starting to remember why as he tried not stare at Henry’s arms.
“Why would I?” Hans tried to sound indifferent even though his mouth felt incredibly dry, “I’ve got better things to do.”
Henry pretended to be offended, his mouth dropping open, “fuck you, then. I get quite lonely, that's all.”
“I wouldn’t be much company,” Hans really tried to watch the hammer fall, concentrate on the sparks flying but his eyes trailed further up, following the veins on Henry’s arms to the muscles bulging under his shirt. He cleared his throat, “you know me, I’d just complain the whole time.”
“Well, there’s always plenty to do here,” Henry uttered, nodding towards the grindstone with a knowing smirk on his face, “I could always use another pair of hands.”
Hans looked from the grindstone, to the anvil and finally the forge. He laughed, then, shaking his head, “good one, Hal. You had me going there for a moment.”
Unsurprised by the response, Henry rolled his eyes fondly and tossed aside the hammer, wiping his hands on his hose before lifting the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. The move revealed his flat, toned stomach for a brief moment but it was enough for Hans to notice. And for Henry to notice him noticing. The blacksmith paused, frowning, “what?”
Hans lifted his gaze, blinking rapidly, “I have to go.”
He was gone before Henry could even open his mouth.
Forge. Anvil. Hammer. Turn. Hammer. Repeat. There was a rhythm to Henry’s forging and Hans hated to admit it but he looked good. This wasn't the first time Henry displaying his competence had proved to be one hell of a turn on; Hans had noticed him on the battlefield, in the arena, using his silver tongue to get himself out of scrapes. The nobleman's book sat neglected on his lap as he once again found his eyes wandering over to Henry, his back bent over the anvil, his big arms bringing down the hammer…
Hans shook his head, forcing his gaze back onto his book. He attempted to focus, determined to read past the first sentence which he was sure he could recite from memory. Once again, however, he couldn't keep his eyes from drifting over to Henry; he watched like a hawk as the blacksmith rolled his sleeves up, exposing more of his arms. Hans slammed his book shut, running a hand over his face.
“What the fuck is your problem?” He muttered to himself, clearing his throat. Henry was whistling now, really concentrating on his work. Sweat was gathering on his forehead which he wiped away with his forearm. Hans resisted the urge to groan, “come on, get a grip! You’re a nobleman, for God’s sake!”
“You alright, Sir Hans?”
The voice made him jump and Hans looked up. Of course it was Henry, who was staring down at him with a look of concern on his face. Obviously, since Hans was sitting in the Den’s courtyard having quite an obvious crisis. His hair was a mess where he’d run his hand through it too many times. And it didn’t help that Henry had neglected to pull his sleeves down before coming over to check on him. Up close, Hans could see even better how big his arms were. He could imagine them wrapped around him, pulling him close, pinning him down...
“Um…” he forced his gaze upwards, meeting his eyes. Now he was the one sweating. He wished Henry didn’t care about him so much; he surely noticed something was wrong. Nevertheless, Hans put on his usual bravado, “just bored, Hal. I'm going crazy. I need something to do.”
Henry nodded sympathetically, folding his arms across his chest, “I know what you mean. If Dry Devil makes one more sly comment about Mutt, I’ll have to explain to Zizka why we’re down one man.”
“What has that drunken idiot said now?” Hans asked, pleased to have something else to think about. Maybe if he could get Hynek to hit him hard enough he'd forget about Henry's arms for five fucking minutes. Henry just waved a dismissive hand.
“It’s nothing. Hey, what do you say you and I go out hunting this evening? Take your mind off things.”
Hans nodded, relieved he had something to look forward to. Henry winked, patting him on the arm before he returned to the forge. Hans sighed. He needed a drink.
“Now, there’s a man who has something on his mind.”
Hans looked up, no longer lost in his thoughts. Thoughts about nothing but Henry. Godwin was standing opposite him, holding two tankards of mead; he looked as though he'd already indulged himself before joining Hans. Still, he placed one flagon in front of the noble, sliding onto the bench. Hans was grateful for the alcohol, drinking it quickly.
“I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than hear yet another nobleman recount how he’s plagued by sinful thoughts and feelings.”
“So you’ve finally realised you want to fuck Henry, huh?” Godwin drained his flagon, raising his hand for another; out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Hans’ panicked expression as he glanced around the inn. They were mostly alone, the other occupants far too inebriated to pay any attention to what they were talking about. Godwin looked sympathetic, at least, “son, if that was the worst thing I ever heard in the confessional, I’d have the easiest job in the world.”
“I know it’s wrong,” the nobleman wrung his hands nervously, avoiding looking at the priest, “but when I think about Henry I…I…”
Godwin watched him, unsure if anything he said would make a difference. The young lord was a friend and he wasn’t about to judge him for what he was feeling. He will listen and give advice when needed but otherwise this was between Hans and Henry. He added another empty jug to the growing number on the table.
“A wise man once said ‘to sin is human’. And he was hungover at the time...”
“You delivered a sermon hungover?” Hans raised an eyebrow, not sure why he sounded surprised. Godwin just smirked, already starting on his next jug of alcohol.
“Not in this instance. I got Henry to do it.”
Godwin pushed another drink in front of the young lord as he got ready to recount the story of his and Henry's drunken night in Uzhitz.
It was early afternoon when Henry took a break, having been too busy working to realise how late it had gotten. He rolled his stiff shoulders, relieving the ache from the hard work. He sat on the bench beside the forge, enjoying the cool breeze as he filled his empty stomach. He closed his eyes, enjoying the sun on his face and the peaceful quiet of the outside.
“You’re still working.”
Henry looked up, surprised to see Hans again. He shrugged, “well, not at the moment-” it was then he peered at him properly. He looked like shit, clearly struggling to stay upright and the front of his golden pourpoint was stained with dried blood. There was a fresh bruise forming under his eye. Henry stared at him, incredulous, “what the fuck happened to you?”
“What, you gonna jump in and be the hero ‘cause I-I can take care of myself,” Hans slurred, pointing at himself dramatically. Henry frowned.
“How the fuck are you this drunk so early in the day?”
“I don’t want to hear it, Henry," Hans wasn't listening. He clearly had something to say and nothing was going to stop him, "can you just hurry up and finish so I don’t have to look at you?”
“You don’t have to,” Henry was confused, wondering what had gotten into his friend. He gestured around them, “no one is forcing you to be out here.”
“But I am stuck here, aren’t I? I’m far too valuable to leave," he pouted. Henry knew his lack of freedom was really getting to him and he was gutted he couldn't do anything more than chaperone him to the outskirts of the Den and back. Hans breathed out, running a hand through his hair, "and you’re certainly not helping things.”
“Why are you being an arsehole?”
Hans just grumbled something under his breath, staggering off somewhere and leaving Henry wondering what the fuck just happened.
It was starting to get dark when Hans woke up with a groan; he was alone in his and Henry’s shared room, thankfully, as he’d passed out on the other man’s bed. For some reason. He got up, rubbing his sore neck and blinked repeatedly, trying to get the world to focus. He’d definitely sobered up if his pounding headache was anything to go by. He massaged his face, flexing his aching jaw; it was then he remembered picking a fight with Dry Devil, berating him for his treatment of Mutt. So he'd followed through with his plan to get the shit, and sinful feelings, beaten out of him. Only it hadn't worked. Instead, he still fancied Henry and now his face hurt.
Henry.
Hans recalled behaving like a right tosser to his friend and he felt guilty. He needed to apologise, that is if Henry would even give him the time of day after the way he behaved. He rose to his feet, wobbling out into the fresh air. By some miracle, Hans managed not to throw up on his way to the forge; he passed a trough and chucked some water on his face in an effort to make himself look somewhat presentable. When he arrived at the forge, he was greeted with a sight he had not been expecting.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake.”
Henry was still working in the forge only this time he had completely removed his shirt. He’d caught the sun on his neck and arms and his toned chest was slick with sweat. He'd filled out nicely in the time Hans had known him, his life of manual labour having paid off. Why did he have to look so good? Henry finally noticed him watching and, unsurprisingly, didn’t look all too pleased to see him.
“What’s wrong with you now?” Henry just continued working, moving the freshly made weapon to the grindstone. His back was just as nice as the rest of him, “I’m not in the mood for anymore of your shit right now, okay?”
When Hans didn’t say anything, Henry turned, finding the man rooted to the spot. Before Henry could say anything, however, Hans let out a frustrated groan and turned around, stomping away like a child. It was then that Henry decided he had had enough.
He found Hans pacing in their shared room, rubbing his chin. He turned when he heard Henry entering the room, somewhat thankful to see he'd put his shirt back on.
“Listen, Henry, I-”
Henry grabbed the front of Hans' shirt and pulled him into a bruising kiss, pouring every emotion he could into it. Hans let out a surprised sound but snaked his hands around Henry's back, holding him close. Henry pulled away all too soon for Hans' liking. The noble looked dazed, his eyes still closed. Henry tried and failed not to be too smug about it.
“Thought i'd better do something," Henry smiled, giving a little shrug, "I'd have been standing out there naked waiting for you to make a move, ” Hans said nothing, still stunned although his brows furrowed slightly. Henry chuckled, reaching up to brush Hans' hair aside, "d o you think I did all that for the fun of it? Clearly you’ve never been near a forge. I risked severe burns to give you a show."
Hans finally snapped out of it, giving an exaggerated gasp, “you were tormenting me all this time?”
“Just a little.”
Great. Henry was going to be unbearable for a while. It was a good thing they were surrounded by people otherwise Hans was in trouble. Still, he was going to pay for it when they were alone. He couldn't find it within himself to care all that much, really. Two could play at that game. Hans shook his head, running his hands over the body that had been driving him crazy for longer than he cared to admit.
“Remind me to invite you to watch me practice archery at some point.”
Henry grinned, "deal."