A vowel off the whole time

I've been meaning to post this for a while and then I think I got severe depression and anxiety? Can't remember. But it's Father Eddie/Bobby set just after Bobby moves to LA. Eddie is a little older than canon, he's about thirty. The fic is 11.7k words, so it is not being posted on here. Please proceed to AO3 for your kind of unhealthy Catholic guilt situationship needs, but here's a preview:

Bobby's been in Los Angeles for a few months before his feet point him to church. He knows he should've gone sooner, but he's been settling in and getting used to the new house and his new crew and his new empty life.

The church is closer to the station than his apartment, because he spends more time at the station anyway. He walks into a somewhat empty service for the Ascension, which isn't the most popular Holy Day anyway. Most of the attendees are older people, probably the types who still long for the old Latin Mass.

He takes a seat near the middle, and he waits for the service to start.

It's good, as far as a low attendance Holy Day service goes. Bobby enjoys the ritual of church, even if he feels like an imposter standing in a house of God as a murderer and drunk.

He doesn't confess, but he takes the body and blood of Christ, opting for the juice over the wine. And it helps.

The priest is an older man, genial and small and too reminiscent of Father Jerry from when he was a kid. He'd loved Father Jerry, but he couldn't look him in the eye and tell him what had brought him to Los Angeles. He can't do it with this man either.

“I'll see you Sunday, Father,” Bobby says.

“Oh, I'm just standing in this week. Father Edmundo—Eddie—picked up a nasty flu when he was at a nursing home,” he says, squeezing Bobby's shoulder with a smile. “But if you ever want to hear an old man ramble again, I teach theology at Loyola. Have a good evening, Captain.”

“You, too, Father,” he says, smiling and leaving.

He still feels like an imposter, but his feet feel a little lighter. The book in his pocket still weighs him down.

He works Friday, gets off work Saturday morning, and goes to his apartment, waving off invites to drinks from Han, Wilson, and Kinard. Bobby doesn't pass his time the way he used to—there's no drinking or pills to make the time blur, no kids to take to parks or games, no wife to run errands for, no one to sit with on a couch and spend time with. He sits, he watches television, he prays, he considers walking to the liquor store down the road, he reads the few names he's added to the list, he recites the ones he's responsible for killing, and he goes to bed.

He's almost looking forward to Sunday Mass, even though the guilt settles on him the second the church comes into view.

There's more people there, still not a ton, but there's a surprising amount of younger people. Mostly women. He doesn't have a lot of time to contemplate why before he sees him.

Father Edmundo—Eddie—is a kid. He's maybe just finished seminary school. When he smiles at the congregation, his eyes crinkle attractively and he shows off perfect teeth. A movie star priest in Los Angeles.

When he gets in line to take the host, he meets warm brown eyes and realizes he cannot confess to this man.

“The body of Christ,” Father Eddie says, holding the wafer above Bobby's tongue, and Bobby closes his eyes.

“Amen,” he responds just before it's pressed down.

He goes for the grape juice instead and sits in the pew, wondering if there's another church closer to his apartment.

After the service, there's quite the line to talk to the priest. Bobby's glad for it, glad he won't have a way to make a fool of himself. Father Eddie's eyes find his over the head of an elderly woman who's gesturing to a young woman beside her, and he smiles at Bobby.

Eddie+Athena endgame confirmed, don’t fight it!!!!!

@boddiecanon

Eddie+Athena endgame confirmed, don’t fight it!!!!!

@boddiecanon

I am but a warrior, a general, a captain of this ship. 😌

I've been wanting to write a Boddie fic where Eddie is a priest, so here's a snippet JUST FOR YOU.

--

Bobby's been in Los Angeles for a few months before his feet point him to church. He knows he should've gone sooner, but he's been settling in and getting used to the new house and his new crew and his new, empty life.

The church is closer to the station than his apartment, because he spends more time at the station anyway. He walks in to a somewhat empty service for the Ascension, which isn't the most popular Holy Day anyway. Most of the attendees are older people, probably the types who still long for the old Latin Mass.

He takes a seat near the middle, and he waits for the service to start.

It's good, as far as a low attendance Holy Day service goes. Bobby enjoys the ritual of church, even if he feels like an imposter standing in a house of God as a murderer and drunk.

He doesn't confess, but he takes the body and blood of Christ. And it helps.

The priest is an older man, genial and small and too reminiscent of Father Jerry from when he was a kid. He'd loved Father Jerry, but he couldn't look him in the eye and tell him what had brought him to Los Angeles.

“I'll see you Sunday, Father,” Bobby says.

“Oh, I'm just standing in this week. Father Edmundo—Eddie—picked up a nasty flu when he was at a nursing home,” he says, squeezing Bobby's shoulder with a smile. “But if you ever want to hear an old man ramble again, I teach theology at Loyola. Have a good evening, Captain.”

“You, too, Father,” he says, smiling and leaving.

He still feels like an imposter, but his feet feel a little lighter. The book in his pocket still weighs him down.

He works Friday, gets off work Saturday morning, and goes to his apartment, waving off invites to drinks from Han, Wilson, and Kinard. Bobby doesn't pass his time the way he used to—there's no drinking or pills to make the time blur, no kids to take to parks or games, no wife to run errands for. He sits, he watches television, he prays, he considers walking to the liquor store down the road, he reads the few names he's added to the list, he recites the ones he's responsible for killing, and he goes to bed.

He's almost looking forward to Sunday Mass, even though the guilt settles on him the second the church comes into view.

There's more people there, still not a ton, but there's a surprising amount of younger people. Mostly women. He doesn't have a lot of time to contemplate why before he sees him.

Father Edmundo—Eddie—is a kid. He's maybe just finished college. When he smiles at the congregation, his eyes crinkle attractively and he shows off perfect teeth. A movie star priest in Los Angeles.

When he gets in line to take the host, he meets warm brown eyes and realizes he cannot confess to this man.

“The body of Christ,” Father Eddie says, pressing the wafer to Bobby's tongue, and Bobby closes his eyes.

"Crumpet" has 2 syllables.

You know what else has 2 syllables?

"Boddie"

Checkmate Edthena sheeple

How many letters are in crumpet??

How many in edthena??

(...out of pride) YESSSSS first Boddie fic.

The job interview at the 118 is one of the most confusing of Eddie's life. He feels like he's trying to impress the amiable captain, tries to make him laugh as much as he can, starts talking about everything he knows how to do that might make him look like the best candidate for the job. It goes beyond how he's tackled any other job interview in his life.

But it's a good place to be, and he's surrounded by good people. Once Buck settles down and realizes Eddie isn't trying to take his place, he even makes some friends.

He still finds himself trying to impress Bobby, and he tells himself it's because he's a good mentor and a good captain and a good person.

He tells himself that over and over, and it becomes background noise to his interactions with the man. He just wants Bobby to think he's doing a good job.

It's late, there's no calls, and Eddie is sitting on the roof for a bit. He's drinking a cup of coffee and looking at the sky, wondering if he should get out of the city for a bit so he can see the stars again.

"You okay?" Bobby asks, and Eddie looks over his shoulder with a smile.

"Yeah, just stargazing. I think I see two," he jokes, and Bobby pulls up the chair next to him. "You?"

"Doing alright," Bobby says with an easy smile, tipping his head up to look at the sky. "I think one of those is a plane."

Eddie points. "No, there."

Bobby squints, and Eddie edges over to point his eyes in the right direction, holding Bobby's chin between his fingers.

"Ah," Bobby says. "Okay, yeah, I think we've got two entire stars in the sky tonight. Not bad."

Eddie flushes. "Thanks."

"You're doing a good job," Bobby says, and Eddie's flush deepens. "I gotta say, I'm pretty proud of you."

"Yeah?" Eddie says, trying not to sound too eager.

"Yeah," Bobby says, smiling at him. "Hard not to be, you're great at your job."

Eddie feels like his breath is trapped in his lungs, and he doesn't know what he's doing until his lips are already pressed against Bobby's. He freezes for a moment, and then there's tentative, answering pressure. Eddie brings his hand up to curl around the side of Bobby's neck, and he feels something settle in him that's been raging and howling and confused for years.

"We shouldn't do that," Bobby says gently when the kiss breaks.

"I know," Eddie agrees. "But I think I wanted to for a while."

Bobby's lips twitch in a small smile. "Yeah. I think I heard every third word during your interview. But still. We--it's not a good idea."