Latter Day Sinner

Chapter 5

"Harder," Gerard gasped through gritted teeth, his body lurching forward. Frank panted, his nails forming claws as they pushed down.

"I'm trying. Fuck," Frank hissed, his body tensing as he pushed forward, his legs actually beginning to tremble with the effort as his muscles tightened, burning ever so slightly in soft protest of his hard movements.

"Language," Gerard muttered, his eyes sliding shut as he moved slightly forward again, his shoes squeaking a little on the newly polished floor of the Church. Frank snorted, even despite his situation.

"Father? You really think now is the time to warn me about language?" he scoffed. Gerard turned to give him a dark look, his own muscles having seized up a while ago.

"C'mon, Frank. Almost there," he gasped, eyes closing. His breath came hard, a thin sheen of sweat coating his body, making his black shirt stick to his skin in clingy strands.
Finally, it happened. With a resolving bang, the large bookshelf they'd been moving smacked back against the wall. Gerard mopped at his head with a cloth, breathing more steadily as he looked at it.

"You said the wind did that?" Frank asked, arching an eyebrow. He wasn't entirely surprised – it had been very heavy the night before. But he didn't think it was hard enough to knock over an entire book case.
Gerard just nodded, leaning back on his pulpit. The skin on his knuckles stretched tightly over the bone as he struggled to keep himself upright. It was only at that point that Frank remembered that the man needed assistance, and rushed to his side.
Frank wrapped an arm around Gerard's waist, encouraging him to lean a little on him. The smell of his sweat was overpowering for only a moment, and wasn't particularly potent. Frank couldn't imagine that he smelled a hell of a lot better.

Frank led Gerard back into the vestry, helping him to sit in the small chair, before leaning back against the wall. Gerard peered up at him, a sheepish expression on his face.

"Sorry, Frank, for making you come out here on your day off. I just didn't know who else to contact – I don't have many friends in the town and –

"It's fine, Father. Really. I wasn't doing much anyway," he assured him gently. Gerard looked at him for a moment, as if considering something, before trying to rise to his feet.

"No, no. I'll pay you for it," he said softly, struggling a little. When he did manage to stand, his body trembled to the point of almost collapsing. Frank sighed and helped him back into his chair, looking concerned, but only softly so.
Something he'd learned about Gerard is that the man hated pity. If he thought he was being pitied, he'd only act more stubborn, and probably end up getting himself hurt. At the thought, Frank glanced at the bandage on Gerard's hand from where he said that he could nail the new cross above the pulpit all on his own. Needless to say, it hadn't gone well.
That's not to say, by any stretch, that Gerard was helpless. Frank had, in his short time with him, seen him perform things that Frank had never previously thought someone in his condition could. Perhaps that was his own incorrect assumption, or Gerard's will. He tended to think it was both.

"Gerard, please. A bookshelf almost crushed you. They'd have to give you all sorts of prosthetics if that happened, y'know," he said with a soft smile, getting a glass and moving to the sink. "You'd be like robo-priest,"
Gerard sorted at that, accepting (even now with a hint of reluctance) the glass Frank handed to him.

"I'd have thought you were too young for that reference," he said coolly, taking a sip of water. Frank arched his eyebrow, leaning against the wall again.

"Robocop? Dude, everyone knows Robocop. You elitist old man," he teased. Gerard scoffed, taking a larger gulp of water, before setting the glass aside.