Rain Falling Down Short #1
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Rain Falling Down Short #1
Author: Maychorian
Characters: Bobby, Jimmy, Castiel
Category: Gen, AU, Pre-Series, Fluff
Rating: PG
Warning: ( skip) References to child abuse. Slight language.
Spoilers: Through S4. Also for a certain Narnia book.
Summary: It's raining again, and all the pillows are missing.
Word Count: 1370
Disclaimer: This is my Father's world, but it's Kripke's playground.
Author’s Note: Part of the Rain Falling Down AU. A missing scene from the end of "A Cleansing for My Humanity". Partly inspired by this gorgeous fanart by oatmeal_queen.
Rain Falling Down Short #1
All the pillows in the house were missing.
Bobby didn't notice at first because it was, after all, the middle of the day, so not a lot of sleeping going on. He'd spent a good two hours in the workshop, getting a few parts ready to ship to an out-of-state customer. When he came out it was raining, dark as twilight, occasional flashes of lightning sparking across the sky with the crackaboom of thunder. It was a true summer storm, sharp and intense. Judging by the saturation of the ground, it had been going on for awhile.
Bartholomew, who for once had decided to accompany him to the workshop instead of hanging out with Jimmy, whined and backed away from the door. "Coward," Bobby muttered. The dog gave him a soulful look and slunk away.
He pulled the brim of his hat down over his eyes and dashed for the house, managing to get only slightly damp in the process. He dried off and made some coffee, read a few pages of the newspaper, then worked on another project that was setting on his desk. Eventually he looked up, eyes narrowing, and stared at the couch in the next room. All of the throw pillows were gone.
Intrigued by this new mystery, Bobby fetched a dry hat to wear, then moved to check the rest of the house. The throw pillows were gone from every other piece of furniture, too, and when he went upstairs his bed was suspiciously flat. The answer, of course, was in Jimmy's room.
Bobby leaned in the doorway for a moment, just taking it in. A quilt was draped over the side of the bed, held off the floor at an angle by a rather well-constructed wall of pillows, stacked carefully one on two, two on one. The resulting structure was reminiscent of a lean-to, and it looked very cozy and snug, just the size for a little boy to curl up in on a rainy day. He heard the low rustle of a page turning, and then lightning flared outside the window and he heard a startled gasp, quickly cut off.
Bobby smiled sadly, then went downstairs and made some hot chocolate.
He brought the mug back to Jimmy's room and sat down with his back against the wall, only a couple feet away from the cave-like opening of the pillow fort. "Jimmy?"
"Yes sir?"
Bobby shook his head. The kid's voice was shaking. And he only called Bobby that when he was scared or nervous, when something had made him revert to the frightened fugitive of almost a month ago. "I brought you some cocoa."
He set it down at the mouth of the blanket cave. After a bit, one small hand emerged from the fort, fumbled slightly for the mug's handle, then retreated with the hot chocolate in tow. A couple of noisy slurps, and the hand returned the mug before disappearing back inside.
Again there was the rustle of a page.
"You still in there?" Bobby asked. "'Cause you're doin' a mighty fine impression of a big ol' turtle."
Another pause, though this one was somehow interested. "You mean like a tortoise? Like...a Galapagos?"
Bobby chuckled softly. "Yeah. A Galapagos."
"Oh. Neat." Jimmy wiggled forward on his hands and knees, dark tousled hair emerging first, then his blue eyes, then his serious little mouth. "Tortoises are nifty."
"They sure are, puddin'." Bobby ruffled his hair. "Whatcha reading in there?"
Jimmy settled down on his stomach in the pillows he'd piled on the floor. "A Horse and His Boy, from the Chronicles of Narnia. Did you ever read it before?"
"Can't say that I have."
"It's about a little boy named Shasta. Except that's not really his name, but he doesn't know that. His dad is mean to him sometimes. Beats him. Except he's not really his dad, either." Jimmy paused. "Kinda like a foster father, I guess."
"They're not all bad," Bobby said softly. "I don't want you to think they're all bad."
Silence. "I hope not," Jimmy said finally. "Anyway, Shasta runs away with this horse, Bree. He's a talking horse. I wish Bartholomew could talk. That would be fun. And then they go on an adventure and meet a girl and a girl horse and cross the desert and see Aslan and do some other stuff. And in the end Shasta finds out he's special, even though he doesn't really want to be. And he has a family and a home and a brother. And he's a prince. But that's not the part that's important. The home and the family, that's the important part."
Out of words, Jimmy grabbed the cocoa and took a long drink.
"Yeah," Bobby said. "Family is important. Is that your favorite Narnia book?"
"It didn't used to be," Jimmy said slowly. "Before, my favorite was Prince Caspian. 'Cause King Peter fights a duel and everything. But... I think this might be my favorite now."
Bobby leaned his head back against the wall, trying to ignore the way his chest ached. "Hey, buddy... When's your birthday?"
"Oh, it's way far away. March 17."
"1974?"
"Uh huh."
Bobby filed that away. He needed that info for the guardianship petition, the project waiting downstairs on his desk. "It's almost time for lunch. What d'you want?"
Thunder cracked outside, and Jimmy startled, but not as badly as before. He bit his lip, hesitating. "Can we have cheese toasties?"
Grilled cheese sandwiches, just like that first day. Bobby picked up the cocoa mug and climbed to his feet. "Of course. Maybe this time you'll try tomatoes on yours."
Jimmy made a face and hopped up, pulling the quilt with him. "Yuck, Uncle Bobby. Tomatoes are for BLTs."
Bobby grinned. "We can have those tomorrow." He looked at the boy, standing there with the quilt around his shoulders. He looked snug and warm and comfortable, but something was missing. Bobby took the hat off his head and dropped it on the kid's, where it fell down around his ears.
There. Perfect.
Jimmy smiled, slow and sweet. They were coming much more often now, those smiles. Then the man and the child went downstairs to make cheese toasties.
The boy sat at the table and ate his sandwich and drank his hot chocolate, all wrapped up in the quilt, a mirror image for that first day. But this Jimmy was warm and dry and free of bruises, Bobby's hat hanging on his head at a crazy angle. He smiled and ate at a reasonable pace, not wolfing his food like a starved animal, enjoying his food greatly but without stress. It was everything good and right and beautiful and damn it, it was turning Bobby into a huge softy. He couldn't bring himself to care much, though.
Mid-bite, Jimmy paused and dug around in the blanket, then pulled out the book, which must have been poking him somewhere uncomfortable. He set it on the table and gave Bobby a hopeful look.
At first Bobby didn't quite get it, but then a lightbulb went off. "Ah...do you..." He cleared his throat. "Want me to read it to you sometime? Maybe after lunch?"
Jimmy beamed and tucked back into his sandwich. "I want you to see how Shasta ends up being a prince." He looked up suddenly, his face calm and grave, and told him very seriously, "You make me feel like a prince, Uncle Bobby. I just want you to know that. Just like Shasta found a happy ending, Jimmy...I did too. Here with you."
Bobby smiled softly, ignoring the creep of gooseflesh, knowing that this was that other personality living inside the boy, and this one knew, somehow, that he was separate from young Jimmy. Someday Bobby was going to have to address this, figure out a way to deal with it. But this day was too lovely for such darkness.
"I hope you don't think I'm a king," he said instead. "Just your average junkyard owner, here."
"Oh, you are far from average, Uncle Bobby." Then old Jimmy moved out of sight again, and it was just young Jimmy, smiling around his sandwich.
Bobby picked up the book and began to read.
(End)
Next story in 'verse: While Children Softly Fold Away Their Years
Title: Rain Falling Down Short #1
Author: Maychorian
Characters: Bobby, Jimmy, Castiel
Category: Gen, AU, Pre-Series, Fluff
Rating: PG
Warning: ( skip) References to child abuse. Slight language.
Spoilers: Through S4. Also for a certain Narnia book.
Summary: It's raining again, and all the pillows are missing.
Word Count: 1370
Disclaimer: This is my Father's world, but it's Kripke's playground.
Author’s Note: Part of the Rain Falling Down AU. A missing scene from the end of "A Cleansing for My Humanity". Partly inspired by this gorgeous fanart by oatmeal_queen.
Rain Falling Down Short #1
All the pillows in the house were missing.
Bobby didn't notice at first because it was, after all, the middle of the day, so not a lot of sleeping going on. He'd spent a good two hours in the workshop, getting a few parts ready to ship to an out-of-state customer. When he came out it was raining, dark as twilight, occasional flashes of lightning sparking across the sky with the crackaboom of thunder. It was a true summer storm, sharp and intense. Judging by the saturation of the ground, it had been going on for awhile.
Bartholomew, who for once had decided to accompany him to the workshop instead of hanging out with Jimmy, whined and backed away from the door. "Coward," Bobby muttered. The dog gave him a soulful look and slunk away.
He pulled the brim of his hat down over his eyes and dashed for the house, managing to get only slightly damp in the process. He dried off and made some coffee, read a few pages of the newspaper, then worked on another project that was setting on his desk. Eventually he looked up, eyes narrowing, and stared at the couch in the next room. All of the throw pillows were gone.
Intrigued by this new mystery, Bobby fetched a dry hat to wear, then moved to check the rest of the house. The throw pillows were gone from every other piece of furniture, too, and when he went upstairs his bed was suspiciously flat. The answer, of course, was in Jimmy's room.
Bobby leaned in the doorway for a moment, just taking it in. A quilt was draped over the side of the bed, held off the floor at an angle by a rather well-constructed wall of pillows, stacked carefully one on two, two on one. The resulting structure was reminiscent of a lean-to, and it looked very cozy and snug, just the size for a little boy to curl up in on a rainy day. He heard the low rustle of a page turning, and then lightning flared outside the window and he heard a startled gasp, quickly cut off.
Bobby smiled sadly, then went downstairs and made some hot chocolate.
He brought the mug back to Jimmy's room and sat down with his back against the wall, only a couple feet away from the cave-like opening of the pillow fort. "Jimmy?"
"Yes sir?"
Bobby shook his head. The kid's voice was shaking. And he only called Bobby that when he was scared or nervous, when something had made him revert to the frightened fugitive of almost a month ago. "I brought you some cocoa."
He set it down at the mouth of the blanket cave. After a bit, one small hand emerged from the fort, fumbled slightly for the mug's handle, then retreated with the hot chocolate in tow. A couple of noisy slurps, and the hand returned the mug before disappearing back inside.
Again there was the rustle of a page.
"You still in there?" Bobby asked. "'Cause you're doin' a mighty fine impression of a big ol' turtle."
Another pause, though this one was somehow interested. "You mean like a tortoise? Like...a Galapagos?"
Bobby chuckled softly. "Yeah. A Galapagos."
"Oh. Neat." Jimmy wiggled forward on his hands and knees, dark tousled hair emerging first, then his blue eyes, then his serious little mouth. "Tortoises are nifty."
"They sure are, puddin'." Bobby ruffled his hair. "Whatcha reading in there?"
Jimmy settled down on his stomach in the pillows he'd piled on the floor. "A Horse and His Boy, from the Chronicles of Narnia. Did you ever read it before?"
"Can't say that I have."
"It's about a little boy named Shasta. Except that's not really his name, but he doesn't know that. His dad is mean to him sometimes. Beats him. Except he's not really his dad, either." Jimmy paused. "Kinda like a foster father, I guess."
"They're not all bad," Bobby said softly. "I don't want you to think they're all bad."
Silence. "I hope not," Jimmy said finally. "Anyway, Shasta runs away with this horse, Bree. He's a talking horse. I wish Bartholomew could talk. That would be fun. And then they go on an adventure and meet a girl and a girl horse and cross the desert and see Aslan and do some other stuff. And in the end Shasta finds out he's special, even though he doesn't really want to be. And he has a family and a home and a brother. And he's a prince. But that's not the part that's important. The home and the family, that's the important part."
Out of words, Jimmy grabbed the cocoa and took a long drink.
"Yeah," Bobby said. "Family is important. Is that your favorite Narnia book?"
"It didn't used to be," Jimmy said slowly. "Before, my favorite was Prince Caspian. 'Cause King Peter fights a duel and everything. But... I think this might be my favorite now."
Bobby leaned his head back against the wall, trying to ignore the way his chest ached. "Hey, buddy... When's your birthday?"
"Oh, it's way far away. March 17."
"1974?"
"Uh huh."
Bobby filed that away. He needed that info for the guardianship petition, the project waiting downstairs on his desk. "It's almost time for lunch. What d'you want?"
Thunder cracked outside, and Jimmy startled, but not as badly as before. He bit his lip, hesitating. "Can we have cheese toasties?"
Grilled cheese sandwiches, just like that first day. Bobby picked up the cocoa mug and climbed to his feet. "Of course. Maybe this time you'll try tomatoes on yours."
Jimmy made a face and hopped up, pulling the quilt with him. "Yuck, Uncle Bobby. Tomatoes are for BLTs."
Bobby grinned. "We can have those tomorrow." He looked at the boy, standing there with the quilt around his shoulders. He looked snug and warm and comfortable, but something was missing. Bobby took the hat off his head and dropped it on the kid's, where it fell down around his ears.
There. Perfect.
Jimmy smiled, slow and sweet. They were coming much more often now, those smiles. Then the man and the child went downstairs to make cheese toasties.
The boy sat at the table and ate his sandwich and drank his hot chocolate, all wrapped up in the quilt, a mirror image for that first day. But this Jimmy was warm and dry and free of bruises, Bobby's hat hanging on his head at a crazy angle. He smiled and ate at a reasonable pace, not wolfing his food like a starved animal, enjoying his food greatly but without stress. It was everything good and right and beautiful and damn it, it was turning Bobby into a huge softy. He couldn't bring himself to care much, though.
Mid-bite, Jimmy paused and dug around in the blanket, then pulled out the book, which must have been poking him somewhere uncomfortable. He set it on the table and gave Bobby a hopeful look.
At first Bobby didn't quite get it, but then a lightbulb went off. "Ah...do you..." He cleared his throat. "Want me to read it to you sometime? Maybe after lunch?"
Jimmy beamed and tucked back into his sandwich. "I want you to see how Shasta ends up being a prince." He looked up suddenly, his face calm and grave, and told him very seriously, "You make me feel like a prince, Uncle Bobby. I just want you to know that. Just like Shasta found a happy ending, Jimmy...I did too. Here with you."
Bobby smiled softly, ignoring the creep of gooseflesh, knowing that this was that other personality living inside the boy, and this one knew, somehow, that he was separate from young Jimmy. Someday Bobby was going to have to address this, figure out a way to deal with it. But this day was too lovely for such darkness.
"I hope you don't think I'm a king," he said instead. "Just your average junkyard owner, here."
"Oh, you are far from average, Uncle Bobby." Then old Jimmy moved out of sight again, and it was just young Jimmy, smiling around his sandwich.
Bobby picked up the book and began to read.
(End)
Next story in 'verse: While Children Softly Fold Away Their Years