Chapter Text
“Hard day at the office, dear? Well come on, dinner’s getting cold!”
Cassidy grins, brandishing the bottle in his hand as Jesse walks up the steps of the little church. The smile on the preacher’s face, sheepish but honest, warms Cassidy more than he’d like to admit. It’s been almost a week since he’d taken up residence in the church attic— the irony of the bats in the belfry joke was not lost on him— and the pair of them continued to get along like a house on fire. It was something Cassidy hadn’t realized he’d been missing, just having a mate to drink and laugh about dumb shit with, but his sudden entry into the small-town soap opera of Annville had come with a welcome reminder, dressed in all black, with impossibly good hair.
“So how’s that air conditioner comin’, Mr. Fix-it?” Jesse snatches the bottle of whiskey, unscrewing the lid and taking a sip as they enter the church doors.
“Ah fuck off, I told you that part won’t get here until tomorrow. Or maybe the day after. Hell, could be you’ve got some Exorcist shite going on and the damn thing won’t ever get fixed. You ever think about that, hm?”
Cassidy flops gracelessly in one of the pews, kicking his feet up on the opposite seat. He reaches for the bottle, flapping his fingers until Jesse hands it back, and takes a long swig.
“I hadn’t entertained the possibility, but the church will take it into consideration.” Jesse smirks, stretching his arms overhead. He looks tired. Cassidy watches him glance to the seat across from him, appraising. “I really should go look over the sermon for Sunday…”
Cassidy tilts the bottle towards him, trying for his best ‘pillar of logic and good decisions’ look. It involves a lot of arched eyebrow. “Come now, are ya’ gonna make me have dinner alone?”
It’s the faintest twitch of laughter on Jesse’s face that heralds victory, long before he sighs and slides onto the pew bench, knee knocking against Cassidy’s long legs.
“The fact that we keep callin’ this dinner might say something about… some psychology bullshit, I don’t know.” Jesse’s laugh is infectious, quiet but warm, like a shot of good alcohol. Cassidy smiles to himself about the metaphor as he pulls out a crumpled pack of cigarettes.
“Well as long as it’s a well-rounded meal, I don’t see what’s the harm, aye?” Opening the pack, Cassidy’s face falls. “Ah, Padre, could I trouble you for…”
The click of the lighter draws Cassidy’s gaze upwards. Jesse takes a smug drag from his own cigarette, breathing it out into the fading sunlight slanting through the church windows.
“You went through that whole pack already?”
“Cleaning out that attic is thirsty work, it is!” Cassidy leans forward, grabbing the bottle and plucking the pack of cigarettes out of Jesse’s chest pocket. Jesse makes a noise of protest and Cassidy nudges at him with his sneaker. “Beside, you should think of your voice for Sunday. It might’a worked well for Keith Richards, but you’ve got your pretty face to keep up too.”
Jesse chokes on his cigarette, waving his hand dismissively.
“If I’m Keith Richards, are you Mick Jagger? Matter of fact, you do kinda resemble…”
It’s Cassidy’s turn to choke and sputter as he lights up. “Fuck off! How old do I look to you, seventy? I’ve some good years left in me, I’ll have ya’ know!” Cassidy bristles under Jesse’s suddenly keen stare, obviously trying to guess his age.
“Yeah… God’s honest truth, you don’t look a day over fifty-nine.”
“Eat shit, I ain’t the one tryin’ to pull off that underwear model haven’t-shaved-in-a-week look.”
Jesse bites his lip against the laughter. “I thought you just said my face was pretty!”
Cassidy scoffs and ducks his head. The whiskey they’d been steadily working on was starting to heat up his face. Suddenly anxious that his cheeks are red, Cass takes a long drag off his cigarette and tips his head back to exhale into the dimly lit chapel. It surprises him how quickly he’s feeling drunk, but then again, it has been several days since he’d drank anything thicker and redder than wine.
“Alright, quit taking the piss. Tell me about your day, Padre, did you save any wayward and wicked souls? Were any of them available, d’you know?” He winks theatrically.
Jesse giggles and Cassidy has to bite his tongue to stop himself from commenting.
“Well, Quentin caught me at the diner again, so I had to stop and listen to him talk for an age about absolutely nothin’ of consequence, but I reckon it made him feel better, so…”
Cass keeps his head back, adjusting so he’s slouching more comfortably against the smooth wood of the pew. He lets Jesse’s voice roll over him, calm and deep and just a touch raspy from the tobacco and alcohol. If more preachers were as attractive as he was, Cassidy thought fuzzily, church attendance would skyrocket. He chuckles to himself at the idea. Cass would certainly enjoy listening to the sermons, not heeding a word he was saying, but just hanging on the music of his voice…
He feels himself dozing off, but Cassidy is so relaxed he doesn’t care much.
*****
A thump and the sudden warmth of a body beside him jolt him awake a moment later.
“You must’a had a real hard day, partner.” Jesse leans in, prodding Cassidy in the chest with the end of the whiskey bottle. “I didn’t think you were such a lightweight. Did you hear anything I was saying?”
“’Course I did, it was damn riveting.” Pulling himself up a fraction, Cass steals the half-empty bottle and takes a long drink. “I ‘specially liked that bit about you healin’ the blind, and turning all those fish and loaves into ham sandwiches. Bloody brilliant.”
Laughing and shoving at his shoulder, Jesse takes the bottle back before Cassidy can finish it. Tipping it back, Cass can’t help but watch the angle of Jesse’s jaw, the way his throat works as he swallows. Cassidy tries to blame the warmth he feels on the liquor, but he can’t deny what’s right in front of him as Jesse finishes the last of the whiskey and licks his lips.
It’s when Cassidy glances up to find Jesse watching him, watching him staring at his mouth, that Cassidy realizes getting shit-faced when he hasn’t had any blood for nearly a week might not have been the brightest idea.
“Um…”
Jesse helpfully says nothing, just steady holding his gaze. Cassidy becomes aware more and more acutely of how close they’re sitting on the bench, shoulder to shoulder, knees touching.
“You know, Cassidy,” Jesse says quietly. Cass tries very hard not to shiver at the sound of his own name. “Lying's a sin.”
“… What?”
“I can tell you’re lying to yourself. You keep thinking, ‘no, I can’t, he wouldn’t,’ but I’m here to tell you, you’re wrong.”
“The fuck are you on about, Padre—“
“My name’s Jesse.” Jesse leans in, somehow looming over Cassidy in the darkness. The smell of his aftershave and the whiskey on his breath makes Cassidy’s chest tighten, makes his fingers gripping the butt of his burnt-out cigarette tremble.
“Jesse…”
The preacher crowds into his space. Cassidy can almost feel the brush of lips moving over his own as Jesse whispers, “Now ask me, real nice.”
“Fuck, Jesse. Please.”
Jesse hesitates a moment longer. Cassidy's heart hammers in his chest, he thinks this might be what dying feels like. When Jesse finally leans in to kiss him, Cass can feel the smile pressed against his mouth.
They kiss almost too hard, teeth clicking together before they find the rhythm. Turning to angle their faces better, Cassidy chases the taste of sin in Jesse’s mouth, smoke and whiskey and the taste of his tongue. Jesse bites at Cassidy’s lips and Cass whines, embarrassed as soon as the noise leaves him, but too caught up to care. Jesse’s strong hands press over Cassidy’s chest and then he shifts, crawling into Cassidy’s lap, knees shoved into the hard bench on either side of him.
The warmth of Jesse’s thighs pressed tight over him makes everything go loud in Cassidy’s head, the sound of their kissing obscene in the quiet dark of the chapel. They were in a church, for god’s sake, they didn’t even have the decency to go upstairs to the bedroom—
Jesse digs his fingernails in over Cassidy’s collar bone, eliciting another embarrassing noise. Cass pulls away to pant into his neck.
“J-Jesus, I was so wrong, forgive me father—“
“Shut up.” Jesse’s smirk looks dangerous as he shoves a hand over Cassidy’s mouth, thumb slipping halfway in between his open lips. It catches on the edge of Cassidy’s teeth and he licks at it playfully.
“… Better yet, why don’t we see just how wrong you are.”
*****
“… Cassidy?”
He jerks awake, suddenly aware of the cigarette burning the ends of his fingers.
“Hah, I thought you were asleep. You really are a lightweight, huh?” Jesse smiles at him across the pew, empty bottle propped against his thigh.
Cassidy swallows hard before he tries to say anything.
“Yeah… I guess so. Sorry Jesse.” He tries not to look directly in the preacher’s eyes as he says it.
“It’s been a long day. Thanks for listening to me anyway, it’s good havin’ you around.” Standing, Jesse stretches and starts towards the stairs at the back of the church. Cassidy takes a deep breath.
“Yeah. Same.”