Work Text:
Garcia drops his coat onto the hook on his wall that rested in the front entrance area of his home. He locked his door behind him, and dropped the keys on his dining table. He was exhausted, running around town helping the local residents with their concerns. One call dealt with a delinquent son, the parents worried he was possessed.
Garcia sighed, and walked off to his bedroom. He changed out of his vestments and into his briefs, and tied a robe around himself. He crawls into bed and closes his eyes. He tried clearing his mind, wanting an empty consciousness to be able to sleep. However, he couldn’t. He opened his eyes gently and peered over to his bedside table, and looked at the photograph framed in silver.
It was of himself and John, John smiling with a grin, slightly crooked teeth showing. He held one hand on Garcia’s shoulder, the other rested on his forearm. Small slivers of other individuals' bodies could be seen from either side of the picture, for the full photo was actually of the entire catholic church clergy. Garcia had cut out and framed it.
He sighed, and reached over to the photo with a small grunt. He looked closer at it, stroking his thumb over John’s face. He placed it against his chest and sighed, looking up and shutting his eyes. He thought of John, the night they drove home together from the events of the sabbath. How John cried… How he…told Garcia he loved him…How they kissed…And most of all, how Garcia yearned for the sweet and warm feeling of John’s mouth, loving and tender. He had acknowledged his feelings for John prior to the night…Well, the framed photo of just him and the younger man was a slight giveaway. He knew he loved John, but he never had the courage to confess, never knew the right time or place.
He mostly didn’t because he was slightly ashamed, guilty. He was John’s mentor, his superior. As well as this, they were both men, catholic priests at that. A kind and young man like John, he never thought he’d feel the same. But he did. And he was so, so grateful and relieved for that fact. He had thought maybe the big man upstairs, God himself, had blessed Garcia with this lovely boy. He thought about how sweet John was, his faith and genuine love for the church. How he spoke softly and seemed to ease when speaking to Garcia. Garcia was so deeply infatuated with John, adoring him more than he ever thought he had adored anyone else.
He softly sighed, once again rubbing his thumb over John’s pale, smiling face. His heart ached for him, for his touch, his love, his soft cracked voice. He swore that he loved John with his whole heart, his whole being. He smiles, and places the photo down back on the desk, slightly turned to face Garcia. He stayed rolled on his side, facing the photo. “I would marry that boy if I truly could…” he whispered to himself. He eventually was able to drift off to the thought of John, wanting enough sleep to be able to greet him tomorrow at the church. When the next morning rolled around, he got out of bed with an eager, upbeat attitude.
He kisses the photo of him and John and leaves, grabbing his coat on the way out. He happily hums to the tune of his radio, tapping the steering wheel, cigarette in his mouth. He arrives at the church, and already spots John’s car in the lot. He smiles and parks his car. Walking in, he sees John speaking to Allred. He walks over, and places a hand on John’s shoulder, which causes John to turn his head in the direction of Garcia, looking down and smiling at him sweetly.
“Can I borrow him?” Garcia asks. Allred nods and responds with a smile, “Surely, Father Garcia.” He walks off and leaves the two. John leans into Garcia’s touch, humming, “Good morning, Father…” Garcia smiles, pulling him closer with an arm wrapped around him, holding his shoulder “Good morning, mi amor.”