WHO: Elijah Voorhies, Will Scarlet, Friar Tuck WHEN: Friday Morning WHERE: Parsonage WHAT: The next morning WARNINGS: Smut
Tuck, being far more well rested than either Elijah or Will, rose with the sun. He managed to slip out of bed without disturbing Will much, and he headed into the heart of the parsonage to go about his day. He took sweet Flora out for a run in the little church graveyard, then he checked on the former prisoners over at the church. There were seventeen of them, all up, minus the ones who had refused to come (The Gang, though Tuck didn’t know that) and the few left in hospital. Robin, Francis and Andrew were seeing to them, and all seemed well. Tuck visited with a few of them, every single one of them asking about Elijah.
After a few mugs of coffee and a bit of work on his next sermon, Tuck decided maybe it was time to cook the boys some breakfast. After all, it was nearly lunchtime. And since he doubted Elijah had ever had a full English before - or at least not in years - that was what he got stuck into. He added an American flair with homemade hashbrowns, however. Then he fried bacon, and followed it by mushrooms fried in the bacon fat. He cooked up some thick, juicy tomato slices, and perfect eggs. He had some of his homemade baked beans bubbling away. There was hearty, rich toast in the toaster, ready to be slathered by delicious butter, or some sugary jam. The only thing missing was black pudding, and Elijah would never know the difference.
Elijah had slept like a fucking log, even though he had worried his sleep would be plagued by nightmares. The combination of exhaustion and a soft, inviting, warm bed for the first time in four years combined to see him sleeping soundly as ever. He was only woken by the smell.
Oh god, it was heaven.
He woke slowly as his stomach gave a rumble, and for a moment - before he realised where he was - he groaned in dismay and pulled the blankets over his head. That smell was going to torment him for hours, he guessed. He almost wanted to cry at the smell of bacon he wasn’t allowed to eat. How long since he had tasted bacon?! And now the guards were torturing him with the smell of it. How he longed to crunch down on a perfectly cooked strip and feel the salty fat and grease on his tongue.
Four years. Four years since he had tasted something so heavenly.
…wait, how did he know it was four-?
The shock of realising he wasn’t still in that dreadful place roused Elijah the rest of the way, and he sat up quickly, his eyes surveying the bedroom, wide and fearful. It took a few moments to calm his breathing, his hand over his chest. Will. Fire. Escape. Weird little church house. Lasagna. He was free. Free. He had lost four years of his life, but he was free.
And he could have that fucking bacon. At least…he assumed he could.
Elijah raced through relieving himself, and splashing some cold water on his face, so he could stick his face out of the bedroom door. The heavenly smell was even stronger there, and he inhaled, tears springing to his eyes again. What the fuck was wrong with him?! He needed to calm down! He dashed them away quickly and then tried out his voice. “M-morning?” That feeling of needing permission to leave his room was so strong, and he felt stuck there in the doorway, even as the very idea of it prickled the skin on the back of his neck uncomfortably.
Tuck glanced over and he saw Elijah there, shyly lurking in the bedroom doorway. He grinned widely and beckoned Elijah in. “Good morning, Elijah!” he said cheerfully. “Come in, come in!” He gestured towards the table, which was already set. On it was everything needed to make tea, including a teapot with the bags steeping, and a nice pot of dark, rich coffee. “This is almost ready if you want to take a seat! There’s coffee and tea on the table to start. How did you sleep?”
Elijah had been given permission, and he sort of floated to the table to sit. “I slept so well,” he said, his voice beyond appreciative. “And that smells so good. I’m starved.” Well that probably went without saying. “Your hospitality is- I’m not used to kind people. Not yet. Then Will shows up and he’s kind beyond measure and now there’s so many of you.”
“That must be so difficult,” Tuck said sadly. “I’m truly sorry for everything you experienced. But you are welcome in my home, as long as you need to stay. We’ll see you right, Elijah.” Anyone who had done what Elijah had done for the man Tuck loved was welcome in the parsonage.
“Thank you,” Elijah breathed. Only then did he look at the table and groan happily. “Coffee,” he said, reaching out for it, so he could pour himself a cup. “It’s been so long.” He added two sugar cubes and then he watched the creamer he poured in dissipate slowly, lightening the liquid. Finally, he tasted the coffee, and it was sweet and strong and perfect, and after he’d swallowed, he sat there at the table, his fingers over his lips, staring straight ahead, while the taste of coffee brought back memory after memory.
Tuck tried not to watch poor Elijah, losing his shit over the taste of coffee for the first time in four years, but it was difficult. His heart went out to the poor man. He could partially relate, because when he’d been in San Francisco it had been a long time between actual meals and cups of coffee or tea for him too. But that had been self-inflicted and he’d been too off his tits to really notice. He was glad when he heard the door to his bedroom crack open, which meant Will was awake too. He smiled fondly at the eggs he was cooking, waiting for the man to appear.