In the beginning, there was love.
Well, if you want to be specific, in the beginning there was the Big Bang and stars exploding and galaxies expanding out into the universe, hydrogen and helium and — but we don’t care about that.
In the beginning, there was love. That’s the important part.
Geno’s life is — not great, would probably be the best way to put it. He drives a shitty taxicab and he lives in his shitty pod apartment and fends off calls from shitty people like Lieutenant General Alexander fucking Ovechkin. It’s not the most satisfying life he could lead, but it’s his, and so he muddles along and doesn’t hope for much better.
It turns out he didn’t need to hope, because much better falls from the top of the US Steel Tower straight into his taxicab.
"Hey," Geno says, even as he dodges some civilian that seriously needs to chill out, he is not that bad at left turns, "you okay?"
"Mmph," says the stranger currently wrapped up in bandages and looking dazed.
"You okay?" Geno repeats, dodging a fucking McDonald’s and seriously hoping all those police cars aren’t meant for him. "Fall very far, very fast. Anything broken?"
The stranger replies in a stream of gibberish. Geno chances another glance and finds that said stranger is a him, broad-shouldered and dark-haired and still looking like he just got high before deciding to take a thousand story plunge.
"Great," Geno says, turning back towards his windshield and wincing at the sound of police sirens. "If I do stupid thing, you gonna be okay?"
There’s a long pause, and then the stranger says something totally incomprehensible.
Geno grins sharply and reaches for the definitely not standard-issue panel below his steering wheel. “Great.”
It turns out that Incredibly Handsome Cab Invader is actually some sort of important religious figure — if Geno’s understanding the flurry of French-Canadian accents on the other end of the line correctly, this guy is basically the second coming of Christ, but an alien. Alien Jesus.
"So you Messiah?" Geno asks, sitting down on his bed and staring at Alien Jesus, who looks placidly back before eating another burger.
Alien Jesus says something too quickly for Geno to understand, then laughs. He sounds like a goose that’s learned how to giggle, and it’s awful, and it has Geno smiling before he knows what he’s doing.
Alien Jesus grins right back, crinkled and crooked. It’s the most imperfect thing about him.
"Jesus doesn’t smile like that," Geno informs him in Russian. Alien Jesus beams back.
"You have name?" Geno asks, sticking to English for the sake of the assistant priest still hovering over his shoulder. It’s not like anything he’s said so far has gotten any hint of comprehension from Handsome Alien Jesus, no matter what language he’s speaking in. Sure, Father Dupuis said he’s a fast learner, but Geno thinks it’s fair of him to be critical of French Canadian priests who look a little wild around the eyes. Either way, whatever gets Assistant Priest Letang off his back will definitely help.
"Sidinai Krosbaria Forbei-Tchei Dei Kidai," says Alien Jesus.
Geno blinks at him.
"I’m call you Sid," he says finally, staring at Sid, in his stretched out t-shirt and with his hair curling just a little.
Sid grins at him. “Sid,” he repeats happily, and then he laughs again, that giggle crossed with a goose honk that does something terrible to Geno’s insides.
Geno might have to admit that, well — if the aliens Father Dupuis were talking about were trying for the perfect being, they didn’t get much wrong with Sid.