"(Tell Yourself That) Everything Will Be Okay," Supernatural
Title: (Tell Yourself That) Everything Will Be Okay
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG for theme, perhaps.
Wordcount: 554
Summary: Their conversations always happened inside Jimmy's head. In the aftermath of 6X22, Castiel asks Jimmy to help him advertise the new order. How does Jimmy react?
Content: Angel/vessel dynamics where the angel clearly has the upper hand and the vessel knows it.
Notes: Written for Novakfest at spn_jimmynovak for metonomia. The prompt I used was Jimmy sold ad-time, once. Godstiel puts him in charge of advertising the new order. No spoilers for season seven.
Disclaimer: All copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. This work is not created for profit and constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Their conversations always happened inside Jimmy's head.
“I was a salesman,” Jimmy insisted. “Not even that! I, I quoted prices and kept track of ad space; I never convinced anyone to buy anything!”
Castiel's answer was cold, like a chilly breeze down Jimmy's neck. “You are familiar with the concept, I'm sure.”
“Everyone's familiar with the concept!” Jimmy snapped. He could feel the displeasure roll off of Castiel in waves and Jimmy reminded himself of what happened to those who antagonized angels. He counted to ten silently, regaining composure before continuing. “Organizing an ad campaign is not the same thing as selling ad time.”
When Castiel didn't give an answer right away, its absence began to feel like a hollow pit between them. Concern creeped into Jimmy's consiousness and he began to wonder if he had made a mistake in talking back to the angel. The god now, Jimmy reminded himself. God, god, god. It wouldn't do to make him angry. Castiel could hurt Jimmy if he was angry, swat him like a fly, and then what would happen to Claire?
As the pause stretched on Jimmy suddenly realized that Castiel was making him panic on purpose. Putting the fear of God into him.
“I'm glad you understand,” Castiel said, confirming Jimmy's suspicions, and Jimmy wanted to wince. (Wincing was something he couldn't do anymore, just like blinking or breathing or screaming.)
“I'm sorry,” said Jimmy. Of course Castiel knew what he was thinking, even when he was thinking it to himself. Did he forget that? He imagined that he was holding his breath, and waited for the wrath of God.
The confidence emanating from Castiel's presence leeched away and Castiel's seemed to almost . . . slump. Figuratively. “No. I should apologize.”
What? “Why?”
“I am not going to 'swat you like a fly',” Castiel explained. “I am not holding your daughter's fate over your head. I did not mean to . . .” Frustration flared off of Castiel, burning bright and hot. “You do not need to feel obligated to do anything. You are not my prisoner.”
“I just - ” Jimmy paused, wished he still had hands he could fidget with. (He could not move his own hands, but he was not a prisoner. God, god, god.) “I don't think I can do what you want. I don't really know how. This, this isn't . . . this isn't what I signed up for.”
“No,” Castiel agreed. “It is not what I signed up for, either.”
No, of course it wasn't. Jimmy knew that was true. The celestial being that filled his skin had never meant for things to turn out the way they did; he was just doing what had to be done. Jimmy understood that, accepted that. Jimmy believed that heaven needed a new hand to guide it. He did. (God, god, god.) It was for their own good. Everyone's own good.
“But will you try?” Castiel asked.
Jimmy thought about Claire, who had let an angel ride her, who said grace at every meal and knew that demons were real. He thought about Castiel, staring out at him from behind Claire's eyes.
“Of course,” Jimmy said. He could figure something out. “Whatever you need.”
Castiel's relief rushed against Jimmy and wrapped around him like a soft blanket. Jimmy let himself relax, and told himself that everything would be okay.
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG for theme, perhaps.
Wordcount: 554
Summary: Their conversations always happened inside Jimmy's head. In the aftermath of 6X22, Castiel asks Jimmy to help him advertise the new order. How does Jimmy react?
Content: Angel/vessel dynamics where the angel clearly has the upper hand and the vessel knows it.
Notes: Written for Novakfest at spn_jimmynovak for metonomia. The prompt I used was Jimmy sold ad-time, once. Godstiel puts him in charge of advertising the new order. No spoilers for season seven.
Disclaimer: All copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. This work is not created for profit and constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Their conversations always happened inside Jimmy's head.
“I was a salesman,” Jimmy insisted. “Not even that! I, I quoted prices and kept track of ad space; I never convinced anyone to buy anything!”
Castiel's answer was cold, like a chilly breeze down Jimmy's neck. “You are familiar with the concept, I'm sure.”
“Everyone's familiar with the concept!” Jimmy snapped. He could feel the displeasure roll off of Castiel in waves and Jimmy reminded himself of what happened to those who antagonized angels. He counted to ten silently, regaining composure before continuing. “Organizing an ad campaign is not the same thing as selling ad time.”
When Castiel didn't give an answer right away, its absence began to feel like a hollow pit between them. Concern creeped into Jimmy's consiousness and he began to wonder if he had made a mistake in talking back to the angel. The god now, Jimmy reminded himself. God, god, god. It wouldn't do to make him angry. Castiel could hurt Jimmy if he was angry, swat him like a fly, and then what would happen to Claire?
As the pause stretched on Jimmy suddenly realized that Castiel was making him panic on purpose. Putting the fear of God into him.
“I'm glad you understand,” Castiel said, confirming Jimmy's suspicions, and Jimmy wanted to wince. (Wincing was something he couldn't do anymore, just like blinking or breathing or screaming.)
“I'm sorry,” said Jimmy. Of course Castiel knew what he was thinking, even when he was thinking it to himself. Did he forget that? He imagined that he was holding his breath, and waited for the wrath of God.
The confidence emanating from Castiel's presence leeched away and Castiel's seemed to almost . . . slump. Figuratively. “No. I should apologize.”
What? “Why?”
“I am not going to 'swat you like a fly',” Castiel explained. “I am not holding your daughter's fate over your head. I did not mean to . . .” Frustration flared off of Castiel, burning bright and hot. “You do not need to feel obligated to do anything. You are not my prisoner.”
“I just - ” Jimmy paused, wished he still had hands he could fidget with. (He could not move his own hands, but he was not a prisoner. God, god, god.) “I don't think I can do what you want. I don't really know how. This, this isn't . . . this isn't what I signed up for.”
“No,” Castiel agreed. “It is not what I signed up for, either.”
No, of course it wasn't. Jimmy knew that was true. The celestial being that filled his skin had never meant for things to turn out the way they did; he was just doing what had to be done. Jimmy understood that, accepted that. Jimmy believed that heaven needed a new hand to guide it. He did. (God, god, god.) It was for their own good. Everyone's own good.
“But will you try?” Castiel asked.
Jimmy thought about Claire, who had let an angel ride her, who said grace at every meal and knew that demons were real. He thought about Castiel, staring out at him from behind Claire's eyes.
“Of course,” Jimmy said. He could figure something out. “Whatever you need.”
Castiel's relief rushed against Jimmy and wrapped around him like a soft blanket. Jimmy let himself relax, and told himself that everything would be okay.