Chapter Two part 1

"What took you so long? I thought you were lying in the gutter somewhere. Or worse, that you'd forsaken your Father." Beck smirked as they quickly manoevered away from the herd of people that was streaming out of the Saint Nicholas church.

"I would never!" Thom replied, pretending to be offended. "It was your fault, by the way. What was that? My mother beat me out of bed with the broom, said I'd ignored her three times before."

Beck laughed his breathy, deep laugh, and explained.

"I got it off my friend at the harbour. It was just a sample, if I want more I'll have to pay. Stuff's all the way from the east, apparently."

"Cool," Thom nodded.

As if on cue, they slowed their pace as they neared the square. This was the tricky part. Even dressed in their Sunday tunics, both boys still looked very much like they didn't belong in a fifty yard radius around the Saint Bavo cathedral. Least of all on a Sunday. A passing carriage made for the perfect disguise; crouching behind the giant wooden wheels, they slowly made their way across the square and into the narrow passage between the giant cathedral walls and the posh, ornamented stone houses next to it. As they heard the bells chime all the way up in the tower, they increased speed and quick as a flash started climbing the scaffolding that was leaning against the grey stone wall in front of them, to the left side of the entrance.

Beck and Thom watched behind a veil of jute as people started filing out under them, flooding the square with their overdone lacy dresses and heavy coats all the way to the ground and ridiculously big hats made of rolled up fabric. Beck reached both hands in his pockets.

"Are you ready?" he whispered.

"Not yet!" Thom hissed back. "Wait for the bishop."

After another few moments, Beck got impatient.

"Let's do it already, people are leaving!"

Just then, the bishop left the cathedral, surrounded by four priests. He had a large white hat on his head, decorated with shiny gold in the form of a cross. Thom leaned over to Beck.

"Bonus points if you get one in the hat."

Beck sniggered.

"Deal. Let's do it."

Simultaneously, they grabbed the coins from their pockets, pushed aside the veil and threw them out over the square. Instantly, women started screeching as men instinctively ducked down. Beck and Thom watched as they saw them gaping at the ground, then greedily starting to pick up as many coins as possible before anyone else would realise what it was. Some women were grabbing the front of their dresses, using them as a makeshift bag for the coins their husband was collecting. Just then someone shouted, "they're fake!" and people started to inspect and then drop their treasure in defeat. As they were brushing off their clothes and composing themselves, the attention turned from the ground towards the sky, where the coins came from. At this point, the bishop turned his head and looked straight at Thom and Beck, a furious, ugly expression painted on his face.

"Get them!" he yelled, pointing a fat stubby finger at the scaffolding, where the two boys startled, their laughter dying down as they saw the four priests starting to come after them.

"Run!"

Thom grabbed Beck's sleeve and pulled him along, running down the length of the scaffolding, easily dodging cement baskets and jumping over mortaring tools. The wooden construction ran all the way to the back of the cathedral, and just when they were nearly there, Beck tripped. He fell face-first onto the floorboards and let out a cry of pain. Thom silently cursed him, but pulled him up and threw Beck's arm over his shoulder.

"Ankle?"

Beck moaned.

"Yeah."

"You're going to need to climb down very quickly. Do not use your bad foot, you'll need it to limp. They're right behind us."

"Shit." Beck winced as he started to climb down the back of the scaffolding after Thom.

"They're here! It's that kid from last time!" someone shouted from behind the corner, and Thom saw a man in a black robe running towards him.

He grabbed Beck from where he hung onto the wooden poles, a few feet above the ground, and threw him across his shoulder. Thank God Beck was hardly any bigger than him, let alone, heavier, Thom thought as he scurried towards the river as fast as he possibly could with an extra hundred-plus pounds on his back. Disappearing behind a street corner, he accelerated, knowing he had to increase the distance between them now that they couldn't see where he was going. Arriving at the riverside, he quickly threw his friend into the high grass and threw himself on top of him, clutching his palm over the other boy's mouth to silence his cry.

They lay there for what seemed to be ages, gasping for breath, chests heaving between them, eyes wide and ears open. They could still hear their chasers muttering in the distance, until the last one gave up. Beck tried to peel Thom's hand off his face, but Thom made a quick little hip movement which made Beck gasp, widen his eyes even more and lie still under him.

"They might pretend to have gone, but wait around a corner or something," Thom whispered in Beck's ear. They were bastards, but clever ones, he mused, thinking of the previous time he'd been in this position. Well, not exactly this position, he thought, and looked at Beck. His cheeks were all rosy and blond curly strands were sticking to his sweaty forehead. Big blue eyes were looking straight into his, and he felt a familiar stir in his groin. He shifted a bit and stopped immediately. Could it... Was this having the same effect on Beck? Thom wasn't sure, but the way in which Beck was looking at him, eyelashes lowering down to his lips every other moment, probably answered the question. This was a bad idea. No, a Bad Idea. A Very Bad Idea, in fact. This was Beck. Beck.

But it wouldn't be a bad idea if there wasn't an idea to begin with, and Thom couldn't say he was very surprised when, the moment he peeled his hand away from Beck's mouth, that very mouth ended up on his own in the blink of an eye. Thom's brain must have shorted out for a moment, because when it started functioning again it appeared that his mouth was actively participating in quite a rough, sloppy kiss. With Beck. Thom tried to peel away, but just then Beck did something with his teeth that made him emit a small high-pitched noise in his throat, a noise Beck seemed to like, gathering from the involuntary buck of his hips. This in turn made Thom's knee jerk, and Beck broke away, face screwed up in agony as he bit his lip to refrain from emitting anything louder than a close-mouthed moan.

"Oh, shit, sorry," Thom apologised and quickly sat up. Beck immediately clutched his ankle as Thom scanned the environment for angry men in black robes. As they were nowhere to be seen, he turned his attention to his friend, who obviously needed help. And who he just kissed, oh God. He'd kissed Beck. Beck had kissed him. Fuck. Fuckity fuck. As much as he wanted to get out of here, he couldn't leave a cripple boy lying in a ditch, really.

"C'mon, let me get you home."