WHO: Much and Tuck WHEN: Sunday WHERE: The Parsonage WHAT: Much needs a hug, and then some WARNINGS: TBA
There'd been moments yesterday, with Mary, when Much thought he could put everything that happened on Thursday behind him. Moments he was touching Mary so gently he couldn't believe his hands could act any other way, moments when she made him laugh and it felt hard to believe he could feel so corrupted it was like his soul was starting to rot.
But Mary didn't stay forever, and Sunday morning Much walked the blocks to the Parsonage feeling awful.
It wasn't even about the unsatisfying sex, though that part did make everything else just a little more frustrating, but frustration paled in comparison to the memory of Lust and Sloth ripping at him, the memory of how weak he'd been, unable to fight them. The knowledge of how dishonorable he could be, how pathetic, how goddamned selfish.
He'd needed saving before. Plenty of times over the course of his life, but not like this. Much felt like he was sliding right into damnation, but Mary's sermon in the park yesterday gave him hope.
He had to have hope. Hope was ingrained into the fabric of his being. That was what the Merry Men were for, to give people hope that there was someone out there, unseen and unconstrained by the laws of the powerful, and on their side when no one else was. The people needed a hero and there they were. (That saint needed a hero too, and where was he? Falling to his knees in front of Lust, aching to be wanted as much as he wanted her.)
But things had been dark before. Dungeon dark, and now look at them all - all of them free.
Of course there was hope. This was just... A different kind of dungeon dark. He was still free. The sun was shining. That meant he still had a chance to... to make it all right. To figure out how to be strong. Strong enough to fight the overwhelming current of desire anytime he thought about Lust, because... because the memories of what he'd done sickened him but they weren't strong enough - when he thought about Lust, he still wanted her.
There had to be a way. And if it was going to be found anywhere, maybe it was here, in Tuck's church, where they'd always gone to seek comfort and guidance in the past, where Much could sit at the back of the church, lean his chin on his hands on the pew in front of them, and look at up the cross behind Tuck while Tuck talked about love. He knew so many of this congregation, he knew who'd been through hard times and who had found who as family, he knew which kids were allergic to nuts and which were allergic to sudden noises, he'd mown lawns and flirted with most of the older ladies and one delightful gay octogenarian gentleman.
These people, they mattered. Tuck, talking to them, mattered.
However, even with all this hopeful thinking, Much found, the thing he wanted most was a hug. A hug from someone who believed in him. Who knew he could do good things. (Mary believed in him, that gave him strength when he was with her, now he just needed it... Every other time.)
Much found Tuck after, as they were packing up some chairs after the tea, biscuits and congregational gossip afterwards. He hadn't been on Sunday for a few weeks; he worked most Saturdays, and lately, had gone home with someone most Saturdays too. It made a Sunday morning church service difficult.
"Nice sermon," Much said, bumping Tuck's hip with his own while he finished folding a tablecloth. "You should think about doing this as some kinda career."