FIC: Going Down Smooth
Title: Going Down Smooth
Rating: PG
Genre: Crack, Coffee
Characters: Castiel, vessel!Jimmy, Dean, Sam
Spoilers: None (takes place roughly in season 4)
Warnings: Unbeta'd
Word Count: 790
Summary: Castiel doesn't understand the human body's desire for the small things. Until coffee, that is.
Author's Notes: This little piece of crack was written because coffee is wonderful, and after nearly a week of going without a decent cup, the first wholly delicious Starbucks grande is nothing short of Heaven sent. Mental porn noises are, therefore, the only reasonable response. And when imisspadfoot21 said she wanted fic where Cas tries coffee for the first time and Jimmy tells him to stop with the porn noises, well... That was too tempting to resist.
Also, this is my first time writing Jimmy! In any capacity whatsoever. It's about time? :P
Going Down Smooth
Castiel never really understood the allure of coffee. He’d heard Dean demand a cup or three from Sam before they started investigating the next hunt, interviewing the next inept town official or local cop. He knows for a fact that the sales rate of coffee at Starbucks and Dunkin’ Donuts has sky-rocked the last decade or so, and that that so happens to correlate perfectly with the rising workaholism of the world (especially in America).
He really doesn’t get it at all, even when months into inhabiting Jimmy Novak’s body he feels a nudging at his consciousness, a tiny uncomfortable prickling, especially poignant when he’s around the lingering scent of coffee beans.
What is it? He finally asks one day.
Would it kill you to give in to one indulgence every once in a while? is Jimmy’s almost snapping response.
Castiel doesn’t understand, so he opens the bond between himself and Jimmy a little further and Jimmy doesn’t even have to say it. Castiel just thinks “Oh,” briefly, and continues on with his duty. Human desire for small, mundane things is something he doesn’t understand either, but he’s beginning to recognize the emotion nonetheless.
The next time he pops in to see Dean, it so happens to be before 8 AM and Dean groans as he staggers out of bed.
“Sam,” he calls to his brother, who’s sitting three feet away at the table and completely within hearing distance. “Coffee.”
“What am I, your errand boy?”
“Yes,” Dean says and slams the bathroom door behind him.
Sam shakes his head, but he’s already standing and looking for the keys on Dean’s bedside table.
Castiel holds up a hand, stopping him, and zaps out. He reappears a few moments later, a tray of coffee in his hand. Sam raises an eyebrow, but “Thanks” is all he says as he reaches for the tray.
Castiel nods, and Sam’s other eyebrow raises as Castiel hands all but one of the coffees over.
Dean likes his coffee black. Simple and easy and fast. Sam, though he’s never admitted it, loves a good latte. Caramel, if he has the choice. It’s smooth but still a bit bitter. Jimmy, Castiel had discovered, liked his coffee with two sugars, a dash of milk, stirred well and burning hot. Practical, but the bite’s been taken out of it just a little.
The coffee burns Jimmy’s tongue as it goes down, scorches his throat just a little bit. But the flavor bursts over his taste buds and that’s al Castiel really pays attention to. Because he can heal this body and Oh. Castiel finally gets why Dean demands coffee in the morning and why Jimmy had suddenly wished for Castiel to stay upwind of coffeehouses if the thought of actually buying a cup of coffee was something Castiel never even considered.
Because Oh.
The flavor is thick, almost heady, and it lingers in the back of his throat even after he’s done swallowing. It’s bitter yet smooth and slightly nutty, and the sugar takes the edge off with a hint of sweetness. It’s warm and Castiel feels like he’s breathing the stuff, the way the scent and taste seek out and find every weary muscle and crevice and bone in his mouth, in his body, it seems. And it’s surprisingly, irrationally comforting. Castiel thinks he finally gets it.
Uhh… Castiel?
Castiel ignores the nudging sensation Jimmy’s soul is pushing against him, the sharp, reprimanding tapping of Jimmy’s consciousness, just as he ignores the man’s words. He takes another sip, and when he breathes out there’s a strange sound that accompanies it.
Despite the prodding of Jimmy’s soul, Jimmy relaxes with the affect the coffee has on this body, and Castiel drinks and he’s halfway done with the coffee before he knows it.
“Dude.”
Castiel opens his eyes, not even aware he’d closed them. Dean is standing in the bathroom doorway, staring at him. His coffee is clutched in his hand, but it’s raised halfway to his mouth, forgotten. When Castiel looks to Sam, the younger Winchester is staring at him as well, his mouth slightly open in shock.
“Dean?”
“Were you just… were those porn noises coming out of your mouth? Over coffee?”
“No,” Castiel says, but it’s at complete odds with the annoyed, slightly uncomfortable Yes of Jimmy’s voice that bounces around Castiel’s head. And it’s worse from in here, Jimmy adds. But the bite is taken off his words when Castiel breathes in and the scent of the coffee reminds Castiel of the way the coffee tastes and his vessel relaxes. And Jimmy, for the moment, is strangely content.
Castiel shrugs a shoulder, concedes, “Possibly,” before bringing the cup up to his mouth again and taking another sip.
Rating: PG
Genre: Crack, Coffee
Characters: Castiel, vessel!Jimmy, Dean, Sam
Spoilers: None (takes place roughly in season 4)
Warnings: Unbeta'd
Word Count: 790
Summary: Castiel doesn't understand the human body's desire for the small things. Until coffee, that is.
Author's Notes: This little piece of crack was written because coffee is wonderful, and after nearly a week of going without a decent cup, the first wholly delicious Starbucks grande is nothing short of Heaven sent. Mental porn noises are, therefore, the only reasonable response. And when imisspadfoot21 said she wanted fic where Cas tries coffee for the first time and Jimmy tells him to stop with the porn noises, well... That was too tempting to resist.
Also, this is my first time writing Jimmy! In any capacity whatsoever. It's about time? :P
Going Down Smooth
Castiel never really understood the allure of coffee. He’d heard Dean demand a cup or three from Sam before they started investigating the next hunt, interviewing the next inept town official or local cop. He knows for a fact that the sales rate of coffee at Starbucks and Dunkin’ Donuts has sky-rocked the last decade or so, and that that so happens to correlate perfectly with the rising workaholism of the world (especially in America).
He really doesn’t get it at all, even when months into inhabiting Jimmy Novak’s body he feels a nudging at his consciousness, a tiny uncomfortable prickling, especially poignant when he’s around the lingering scent of coffee beans.
What is it? He finally asks one day.
Would it kill you to give in to one indulgence every once in a while? is Jimmy’s almost snapping response.
Castiel doesn’t understand, so he opens the bond between himself and Jimmy a little further and Jimmy doesn’t even have to say it. Castiel just thinks “Oh,” briefly, and continues on with his duty. Human desire for small, mundane things is something he doesn’t understand either, but he’s beginning to recognize the emotion nonetheless.
The next time he pops in to see Dean, it so happens to be before 8 AM and Dean groans as he staggers out of bed.
“Sam,” he calls to his brother, who’s sitting three feet away at the table and completely within hearing distance. “Coffee.”
“What am I, your errand boy?”
“Yes,” Dean says and slams the bathroom door behind him.
Sam shakes his head, but he’s already standing and looking for the keys on Dean’s bedside table.
Castiel holds up a hand, stopping him, and zaps out. He reappears a few moments later, a tray of coffee in his hand. Sam raises an eyebrow, but “Thanks” is all he says as he reaches for the tray.
Castiel nods, and Sam’s other eyebrow raises as Castiel hands all but one of the coffees over.
Dean likes his coffee black. Simple and easy and fast. Sam, though he’s never admitted it, loves a good latte. Caramel, if he has the choice. It’s smooth but still a bit bitter. Jimmy, Castiel had discovered, liked his coffee with two sugars, a dash of milk, stirred well and burning hot. Practical, but the bite’s been taken out of it just a little.
The coffee burns Jimmy’s tongue as it goes down, scorches his throat just a little bit. But the flavor bursts over his taste buds and that’s al Castiel really pays attention to. Because he can heal this body and Oh. Castiel finally gets why Dean demands coffee in the morning and why Jimmy had suddenly wished for Castiel to stay upwind of coffeehouses if the thought of actually buying a cup of coffee was something Castiel never even considered.
Because Oh.
The flavor is thick, almost heady, and it lingers in the back of his throat even after he’s done swallowing. It’s bitter yet smooth and slightly nutty, and the sugar takes the edge off with a hint of sweetness. It’s warm and Castiel feels like he’s breathing the stuff, the way the scent and taste seek out and find every weary muscle and crevice and bone in his mouth, in his body, it seems. And it’s surprisingly, irrationally comforting. Castiel thinks he finally gets it.
Uhh… Castiel?
Castiel ignores the nudging sensation Jimmy’s soul is pushing against him, the sharp, reprimanding tapping of Jimmy’s consciousness, just as he ignores the man’s words. He takes another sip, and when he breathes out there’s a strange sound that accompanies it.
Despite the prodding of Jimmy’s soul, Jimmy relaxes with the affect the coffee has on this body, and Castiel drinks and he’s halfway done with the coffee before he knows it.
“Dude.”
Castiel opens his eyes, not even aware he’d closed them. Dean is standing in the bathroom doorway, staring at him. His coffee is clutched in his hand, but it’s raised halfway to his mouth, forgotten. When Castiel looks to Sam, the younger Winchester is staring at him as well, his mouth slightly open in shock.
“Dean?”
“Were you just… were those porn noises coming out of your mouth? Over coffee?”
“No,” Castiel says, but it’s at complete odds with the annoyed, slightly uncomfortable Yes of Jimmy’s voice that bounces around Castiel’s head. And it’s worse from in here, Jimmy adds. But the bite is taken off his words when Castiel breathes in and the scent of the coffee reminds Castiel of the way the coffee tastes and his vessel relaxes. And Jimmy, for the moment, is strangely content.
Castiel shrugs a shoulder, concedes, “Possibly,” before bringing the cup up to his mouth again and taking another sip.