It Never Had To Get So Dark - Father Paul Hill x Reader

Four

"Stay."

I gave Kura a pointed look, holding a finger to him as I blocked his path outside with my knee while attempting to ease myself through a crack in the door, having to quickly pull it shut once I was outside to keep him from charging out behind me.

With a long sigh, I secured the doorknob so it wouldn't loosen when he inevitably jumped at it and then turned to head back down the path and to the hedge, where Father Paul remained knelt, his hands resting on his knees.

"Are you really sure about this?" I asked once I was close enough to hold out an open bag and some horrifically yellow rubber gloves to him.

"Absolutely," he nodded, stoically taking the gloves and snapping them on.

Were the situation not so dire, I'd have laughed at the sight of a priest on his knees in front of my hedge with bright yellow gloves on and then I'd have laughed harder at the euphemism.

Clearing my throat, I wrapped my arms around myself and watched as Father Paul leaned down to reach a hand beneath the branches, his hand feeling for what had shaken me as my fingers clutched at the edges of the cardigan I had slipped on while snatching the supplies.

My heart rate had spiked with nervous anticipation and I found myself shifting on my feet.

Eventually, the Father let out a gasped; "Aha," and then started to straighten himself.

With him, he pulled a stiff and dead white and brown cat that had my breath catching in my throat.

The poor thing was curled up as though it were only sleeping but whatever had caught it had apparently snagged somewhere on its left side bad enough to cause significant blood loss, the leftovers now sticking to its fur.

A sputter came from me as I covered my mouth with my hand and turned away, already feeling tears pricking at my eyes as my throat constricted.

Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I turned back to the Father as he bagged up the cat and then slipped the now bloodstained gloves off to tuck those inside as well.

"Sorry," I said softly with a forced laugh which was abruptly followed by a sniffle, "I don't do well with animal deaths."

"You have nothing to apologise for, I would say that you had a perfectly reasonable reaction."

I snorted and rolled my eyes with a wry smile, rubbing at my eyes with the back of my hand while clearing my throat to try and ease the tightness.

"I guess," I sighed, looking to the bag. "Thank you for doing that for me."

Father Paul glanced towards me with a faint smile and then stood to his full, towering height, the bag held closed tightly in one hand.

"There is no need to thank me, I've dealt with worse."

I rose my eyebrows and let out a soft laugh, shaking my head.

"I highly doubt that but I'll take your word for it."

He smiled a little wider and dropped his chin to his chest, nodding slowly before meeting my eye.

"Okay, I admit that I was trying to make you feel better."

"Effort appreciated."

An awkward moment of silence passed between us, which somehow suited the Father's general demeanour down to the ground, the two times we had talked he had exuded a strange awkward confidence that made him seem sure of himself while not fully knowing how to express it.

The thought was oxymoronical and made my brain hurt to think about, but that was the only way that I could describe him.

"Uh," I finally said, feebly pointing to the bag, "I can...uh...I can take that, I'll bury it."

He glanced down at the bag, lifting it a little as if feeling the weight upon just remembering that it was there before meeting my eye again.

"Ah, um...actually, perhaps it would be worth taking it to the Sheriff," he said.

"Why would I take it to him?" I asked, my eyebrows furrowing with my questioning.

"You haven't heard about this morning?"

I slowly shook my head, feeling dread bubble in my stomach as my brain racked to find a connection.

"No, I woke up late and had only let the dog out about fifteen minutes before you arrived."

A pinch of shame for admitting the truth of my lifestyle to a priest painted my cheeks, though given how sickly I felt over the cat I wouldn't have been surprised if my blush simply put me back to my usual complexion.

"I see, well...I won't go into too much detail but there was bit of an...incident...with the stray cats and they were found lining the shore, the sheriff is working to deal with them."

"Oh..."

He nodded slowly, looking solemn but trying to stay comforting.

"It was quite a shock for everyone to wake up to."

"I can imagine it was," I mumbled before sighing. "Okay, I'll take it down to him, poor sheriff."

"Are you sure? I don't mind taking it."

I smiled and shook my head again before holding my hand out.

"That's okay, you've done enough, it was under my hedge so it's only fair I do a bit of the work."

Father Paul regarded me for a moment before eventually giving in and holding the bag to me.

Clasping the top perhaps a little too tightly, I held the bag out at arm's length and gave him my best smile, one that even I didn't believe looked as confident as I wanted it to.

"You have a good day, Father."

"And you."

He dipped his head politely and then made his way across the grass to the gate, my eyes trailing after him the whole way and taking in the outfit of choice that took me by complete left field.

Never did I imagine a priest in considerably tighter than expected jeans, a black shirt with the white collar thing they wore, I'd look up the name later, and a grey cardigan, but it suited him, I had to give him props.

Father Paul pulled the gate closed behind him and gave me a wave before disappearing back towards the church, leaving me with a dead cat in a bag.

Definitely not how I imagined my afternoon starting.

"Guess I'll get some shoes on and head down to Sheriff Hassan," I said, glancing at the bag with a grimace, feeling the weight of it as it swung in my grip. "He's going to love me."