NEED
So, I have a pressing need for a SPN AU where heaven is a by turns stultifying and cruel bureaucracy, and Sam and Dean's challenge is to get Castiel to put away the paperwork, stop sending them memos on how to stop the Apocalypse, step away from his desk and kick some fucking ass.
Also:
- Castiel and Balthazar have adjoining cubicles and communicate their mutual disgust and disenchantment through coded email subject lines and raised eyebrows.
- Uriel as their OTT drinking buddy. That is, when they can actually get out of the office and into the bar. He enjoys deconstructing pop music and expounding on the failures of humanity.
- Zacariah as their smarmy boss, obsessed with TPS reports and ruining the lives of as many people (and angels) as possible.
"Nine to five? Freaking humans don't know how lucky they have it. Try nine to five thousand. Yeah, years."
"I have just filed my 5,475,000th TPS report," Castiel says.
"Nice work, buddy." Balthazar's reply is muffled by the walls of his cubicle. Neither angel looks up from their computer screen.
Castiel sighs. His fingers holding steady above the keys, hands in the ergonomically correct position for typing. "In all these years, I have yet to receive even a confirmation email."
"You know how Zacariah is."
"There are moments where I..."
The noise of Balthazar's determined speed-typing comes to a skittering, no doubt typo-causing halt. "What?"
"Wonder what the point is."
Balthazar teleports himself and his desk chair into Castiel's cubicle with a faint pop, and grabs hold of Castiel's shoulders. Castiel makes a note to remind him about the importance of posture. "Are you questioning the importance of TPS reports?"
"I think... perhaps I am," Castiel whispers bleakly.
Is there such a story?
Alternate: http://schmevil.dreamwidth.org/284042.html.
comments
Also:
- Castiel and Balthazar have adjoining cubicles and communicate their mutual disgust and disenchantment through coded email subject lines and raised eyebrows.
- Uriel as their OTT drinking buddy. That is, when they can actually get out of the office and into the bar. He enjoys deconstructing pop music and expounding on the failures of humanity.
- Zacariah as their smarmy boss, obsessed with TPS reports and ruining the lives of as many people (and angels) as possible.
"Nine to five? Freaking humans don't know how lucky they have it. Try nine to five thousand. Yeah, years."
"I have just filed my 5,475,000th TPS report," Castiel says.
"Nice work, buddy." Balthazar's reply is muffled by the walls of his cubicle. Neither angel looks up from their computer screen.
Castiel sighs. His fingers holding steady above the keys, hands in the ergonomically correct position for typing. "In all these years, I have yet to receive even a confirmation email."
"You know how Zacariah is."
"There are moments where I..."
The noise of Balthazar's determined speed-typing comes to a skittering, no doubt typo-causing halt. "What?"
"Wonder what the point is."
Balthazar teleports himself and his desk chair into Castiel's cubicle with a faint pop, and grabs hold of Castiel's shoulders. Castiel makes a note to remind him about the importance of posture. "Are you questioning the importance of TPS reports?"
"I think... perhaps I am," Castiel whispers bleakly.
Is there such a story?
Alternate: http://schmevil.dreamwidth.org/284042.html.
comments