Rune Factory Fanfiction
Bacchus/Gerard: Pre-Relationship
SFW
Rain pattered hard on the roof of the church, coming down in sheets as Father Gerard gazed at it through the window. He disliked the rain as a whole, though he’d never say it. Too bleak, too cold, but he knew that without the rain no flowers would grow. A necessary evil. He sighed. The children were with Aden and Sonja, spending the day playing on Ymir, and he was sad for their absence. Rain was harder to deal with when he was alone with his thoughts.
Just as he had all but decided to spend the rest of the day in bed, the doors to the church slammed open, and Gerard just about reached for a blade he no longer had until he saw who it was that had entered. Bacchus stood in the doorway, drenched to the skin, and clearly upset.
“Yes? May I help you?” Gerard asked with a casual tone he didn’t feel. Bacchus rarely came into the church, let alone in the middle of a downpour.
“Is Joe here?” he demanded, and Gerard raised his eyebrows at the question.
“I can’t say he is. He comes in less often than you.” There was no shame-wielding in his voice. He knew that religion wasn’t for everyone on a good day, but heavens knew he wouldn’t hold that holy guilt over someone clearly troubled.
“Dammit!” exclaimed Bacchus, turning out the door. “I told ‘im it’s too dangerous to go out on the sea today!” Gerard’s heart clenched.
“Oh, you don’t really think he was actually foolish enough to go, do you?” he asked, still trying to keep the veneer of a collected holy man. Bacchus shook his head and raised his shoulders in a massive shrug.
“I don’t know. That kid thinks he knows everything. Headstrong, just like ‘is father was,” he said. Gerard shivered as the mist of rain still coming through the open door of the church chilled him to the bone.
“He may be around,” Gerard offered. “I can have Mikoto search--”
“Mikoto’s already looking,” Bacchus cut him off.
“Then I’ll help you look as well,” Gerard said, before he could think about what he was saying. “We’ll find him, Bacchus. I don’t think he’s as foolish as you believe him to be.”
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The rain stung as it pelted Gerard, but he kept stride with Bacchus. The man may be a seasoned fisherman, but Gerard had been a soldier, and had been in far more dire of straits before. They checked every house, every business, asking around to see if they had seen Joe. No luck. The younger man seemed no where in sight. After checking in at the Three Daughters Inn, Bacchus’ shoulders slumped, looking as defeated as one could. Gerard put a hand on his large arm.
“We haven’t checked the beach yet,” he offered, and Bacchus looked down at him. Gerard paused. He’d never thought about how strong Bacchus always was, until now. Now, he seemed small despite his bulk. A grandfather fearing for his grandson. Gerard could relate. If anything had ever happened to Kelsey or Quinn...
He didn’t like to think about it.
They trudged through the town until they got to the beach. The sand clung in clumps to Gerard’s shoes and the bottom of his clothes, and he gave up trying to shake it off after two failed attempts. He was soaked to the bone, and each shout of Joe’s name quivered in his throat as he shivered around the cold air. He was nearly hoarse, and he knew he’d probably wake with a cold the next morning. Still, he pressed on.
Bacchus seemed all but ready to give up when their shouts were returned by a break in the thunder of the rain. Gerard was sure he was just hearing things, but Bacchus immediately perked up.
“Joe?” he shouted down the beach, towards the caves.
“I’m here!” came the response and Gerard nearly fainted with relief as a swath of red hair emerged from the cave.
“Was just waiting out the rain,” Joe said by way of an explanation.
“Just waitin’ out the rain? Boy, you could have done that back home!”
“I was already down here when it hit! I wasn’t gonna run all the way home when it’s pelting like this!”
“Gentlemen,” Gerard interrupted. He didn’t need to say more, as Bacchus gave him a once over. Without the fear for Joe, he finally realized that Gerard was wet to the bone, wearing nothing more than his cotton robes, and shivering like a small dog.
“Look, you even got Father Gerard out looking for you,” Bacchus said to Joe. “Get home, and I’ll meet you there.” Joe made a move to speak, but Bacchus cut him off with a hand held up, and he huffed before walking up the beach.
“Hey,” Bacchus said to Gerard, “I can’t thank you enough for helping me today. Any way I can repay you?”
“Oh, a strapping man like you? I’m sure I could think of something,” Gerard said with a wink. He turned before Bacchus could respond.
“You can start by walking me home,” he said over his shoulder, and Bacchus followed, coming up to his side with a few long strides.
Now that the danger was gone, Gerard was acutely aware of how miserable he was. Besides being wet and cold, he had a blister forming on the back of his heel and his hair was plastered awkwardly onto his forehead. He sighed once.
“I must look a mess,” he voiced. Bacchus looked him over and shrugged.
“I bet I don’t look so good myself,” he said. “I really do appreciate you coming to help me find the boy.”
“What kind of priest would I be if I didn’t help?”
“I s’pose,” Bacchus replied. He grunted. “Still.”
They were silent the rest of the way to the church. Gerard didn’t mind. Bacchus had a sort of silence about him that never seemed awkward. To be true, Gerard envied that. To just be. There was too many shadows in his past for him to ever feel completely at peace.
When the arrived to the church the first thing Gerard did was go up to his quarters and change. He brought Bacchus down some donated clothing that “may fit your bulk” but Bacchus turned him down.
“Just gonna get wet on my home anyway,” he reasoned, and Gerard couldn’t argue with that.
“At least let me offer you some tea to warm up for a bit,” Gerard pressed. Maybe it was that he just hadn’t wanted to be alone today in the first place, but he didn’t want Bacchus to go.
“Oh, I think I might be able to stay for some tea,” Bacchus said, stroking his beard. Gerard perked up and put the kettle on, waiving Bacchus in to sit. He didn’t much mind him dripping on his floor anyway.
“Are you sure I cant at least offer you a dry shirt?” Gerard pressed again. Bacchus shrugged before pulling off his wet top, revealing his strong, defined muscles, and Gerard had to remind himself he was a priest as he looked away. Bacchus shuffled into the shirt that was just a touch too tight on him as Gerard poured the tea, and leaned back into his chair. When Gerard turned back, he nearly dropped the mugs. To hell with being a priest, was his first thought but he shook it away and placed a steaming mug in front of the other man. Bacchus reached for it just a touch too soon, brushing fingers with Gerard and they caught each others’ eyes. For a moment, something charged went between them, and Gerard stopped breathing with it, like the moment before falling. Bacchus cleared his throat and pulled back, and it was gone, They finished their tea with small talk and a strange inability to meet each others’ eyes before Bacchus finished his tea with a slurp and excused himself. On his way out, Gerard noted that the rain had stopped, leaving a cold breeze in its wake.
Aden and Sonja returned the kids an hour or so later, and Gerard readied them for bed, before tucking them in for a bedtime story. It was odd, though, that even with them there, he felt horribly lonely. He wished it hadn’t been an old hole in his heart, but he carried that with him far longer than he’d admit to anyone. Just as he was about to put out the light, Kelsey sat up in his bed.
“Father Gerard?” he asked.
“Yes?”
“Why are you sad?” he asked, in his soft, timid way. Gerard was struck for a second. Leave it to the children to point it out. He smoothed the blankets on the boy’s bed out before sitting beside him, tucking him back in.
“I’m not sad,” he lied. “I just had a very long day helping Mr. Bacchus find Joe. Now you get some sleep, I’ll make you both pancakes in the morning.”
“Pancakes!” Quinn exclaimed. Gerard softly hushed her and turned out the light.
That night he barely got any sleep and when he did, he dreamed of rainstorms, soldiers in blood-soaked armor, and Bacchus.
The next morning he made pancakes and ignored that hole in his heart. Just as he did every day.