Robin occasionally stayed over at Finch’s apartment. Sometimes they stayed at his instead, but other times they didn’t feel like telling Vinny they didn’t want to buy a television. If Robin stayed over at Finch’s on a Saturday, they went to church in the morning. Robin hadn’t gone to church much growing up. His mother hadn’t ever really had the time. As a single mother of a particularly hyperactive child, she’d spent the majority of her time working and carting him around to any extracurricular activity that would have him. And then, when he returned home from church camp with a new friend, she’d spent a lot of time carting him off to Miles’ house so that she could go to work. He suspected his mother felt that one summer at church camp and an excess of time spent in a household that was Christian enough to say grace before dinner was enough religious intervention to ensure her son got into heaven. Robin, who had loathed church camp with every fibre of his being and kept his eyes open during grace, wasn’t so sure.
Nevertheless, he didn’t mind going to church with Finch. He liked the music and Gord always had a hilarious amount of drama within his choir of elderly people that it was entertaining enough to carry him through an hour-long service on the occasional Sunday morning. It was time he would normally have spent sleeping, but Finch’s neighbour made that a near impossibility by singing Paula Abdul songs at an alarming volume at six o’clock in the morning anyway. A shaky, flat version of “Cold Hearted” was tough to sleep through.
When he and Finch had first gotten together, he’d been surprised to find Finch was so devout. He’d noticed that Finch had requested every single Sunday morning off from work, but Robin never would’ve guessed it was for church. And it was literally always for church. Finch never, ever missed. He went in bad weather, he went when he was sick, and he went on holidays and birthdays. Having met Finch’s family, Robin now understood that his parents were very devout Catholics as well, though his brothers were not. And yet, Finch went to a Presbyterian church, despite the fact that there was a Catholic church just as close to his apartment. For the longest time, Robin had operated under the assumption that it was because Gord was the organist at the Presbyterian church and Finch was merely being supportive. He only learned the real reason when he was talking to Gord one morning. Robin had stayed over and had been consequently woken up by Paula Abdul. It was a Sunday, but early, so Finch had rolled over and shoved his head under a pillow to get more sleep. Robin had given up and gone to the kitchen, where Gord was eating cereal and looking over sheet music.
“Coming to church?” Gord asked, looking up briefly.
“I think so,” Robin nodded, putting on the coffeemaker and sitting down at the table with Gord. The table had been painted turquoise at some point, but it was covered in scratches and dents and random doodles, phrases, and names. Robin himself had drawn a cartoon of Eartha on it along one of the edges. He traced a drawing of a whale.
“Finch never misses,” he said after a moment. Gord nodded and hummed. “Has he always gone to your church?”
Gord looked up again.
“Nah, he used to go to the Catholic church down the street,”Gord answered.
“And he switched to support you?” Robin returned. Gord chuckled.
“Ah no, he started going there before I started working there,” he explained. “He actually helped me get the job.”
“Huh,” Robin said. “Why’d he switch then?”
Gord gave him a long look.
“Well, he came out,” he said simply with a shrug. “The Catholic church isn’t, you know, super fond of gay people. I mean, neither are a lot of churches, but the Presbytery is on their way and the closest United church is further away and they have some hemp-wearing granola man with a ginger beard singing campfire songs about Jesus every Sunday. Finch went once. I’ve never seen him so angry in my life as when he came home after that.”
Robin could picture it.
“His parents are cool with it, though,” he mused after a while.
“His mom’s cool with it,” Gord corrected. “His dad’s better about it now.”
Robin would never have guessed that.
“But his brothers are actually cool with it, right?” He checked.
“His brothers don’t give a fuck,” Gord snorted. That at least was in line with what Robin knew.
Later that morning, as Finch and Robin sat side by side in a pew together, waiting for the service to begin, Robin reached out and took Finch’s hand, just to see what he would do. Finch looked over and grinned at him sharply. He squeezed Robin’s hand and left their hands entwined.
“You would want to get married in a church, right?” Robin checked. Finch smirked at him.
“Why? You asking?”
“Oh no,” Robin returned immediately, frowning. “Asking for a friend.”
“Joey?” Finch returned. Robin laughed.
“You know, I think I would genuinely love to see you marry Joey,” Robin said thoughtfully. “If only to see what that wedding party would look like. I, obviously, would be your best man.”
“Obviously,” Finch nodded solemnly.
“But then you could have Gord, Gavin, and Amare. Gord could do a little musical number for your first dance. Gavin would for sure try to wear a taco-printed suit,” Robin continued.
“Amare’s would be pink,” Finch interjected and Robin laughed again.
“And then Joey’s side would be Vinny, his terrifying cousin Sabrina, and the rest of his accidental gang,” Robin concluded. “There would be a brawl at the altar. Vinny would try to sell the minister a stolen television. I imagine someone would do coke at the reception. Sabrina would stab someone over ravioli.”
“Sounds like a nice time,” Finch said.
“Super nice,” Robin nodded his agreeance. “I can’t wait.”
Finch threw him another sharp grin before turning his attention back to the front of the church where the choir had begun to file in. Robin watched Finch’s profile for a moment before turning to the front as well as the service began.