SPN Fanfic: Bless the Beasts and Aminals
Title: Bless the Beasts and Aminals
Characters: Pastor Jim, Sam (3 and a half-ish), Dean (almost 8), John in passing.
Rating: GEN, G
Word Count: 820-odd
Disclaimer: Nothing in this is mine except the word arrangement and the insanity.
Warnings: No spoilers for anything past first season. Wee!chester. Dubious depictions of a church event I've never attended.
Summary: Saint Francis of Assisi should have anticipated this, really.
A/N: Okay, this is probably only funny and cute in my head, but I misread the title of a Metallica song and wound up with a burning need to write a Pastor Jim and wee!chesters drabble ficlet for the purpose of using it. charis_kalos? Since you're the one most likely to actually enjoy this, I hereby dedicate it to you. Happy Quantum Birthday! :-)
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Bless the Beasts and Aminals
by CaffieneKitty
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One thing that could be said about the Animal Blessing service held every year on or close to the Feast of St. Francis, October 4th; there was always something unexpected. Last year it was an entire flock of emus. This year, it was Winchesters.
He'd only known them a short while, but John and his sons had come to roost at the Murphy residence unexpectedly late last night. Sammy had been sound asleep, curled into a nest in the Impala's back seat, clutching a bright green stuffed toy. Dean had been in the front seat, half-asleep himself, but doggedly watching John and keeping up a constant chatter. Dean's eyes drifted half-shut as Jim came out of the house in his bathrobe.
At first Jim had thought John was drunk, leaning heavily on the door frame of the Impala after getting out of the car, but then he'd noticed the bruise forming at the man's hairline. John had taken a knock on the head sometime in the last few hours that was not quite a concussion. As soon as the boys were settled into Jim's guest room, John had passed out on the couch. He was still asleep there (exhaustion and not anything more serious stemming from his injury) when time rolled around for Pastor Jim to lead the morning service.
The trouble was, the service wasn't being held in the Church next door today. It was being held in a borrowed tent on the outskirts of town in a parishioner's field. Saint Francis of Assisi aside, live animals of all descriptions did not mix well with 19th century hardwood floors.
Jim had been trying to work out how to keep an eye on the boys at home and run a service for a tent full of people and animals miles away, when the boys had solved his dilemma themselves. They had come to the morning's service; Sammy entranced by the animals the parishioners brought in to be blessed, Dean with much feigned eye-rolling tolerance of his baby brother's whims. However, Jim had noted that Dean didn't roll his eyes at all when Agnes Gettman let the boys play with the wriggling puppies she'd brought to the service.
After the brief service, a line had formed for the parishioners to bring their animals to him for individual blessings. Jim kept an eye on the Winchester boys and noted they'd attached themselves to the line. Jim suspected they were most likely following another basket of puppies or kittens, although Dean didn't seem as pleased to be there as Sammy did. When they got to the front of the line Jim discovered otherwise.
"Bless 'im please, Passer Jim!" Sammy said, holding up the grubby green toy Jim recalled him clutching when they'd arrived last night. The light of day revealed it to be a much-mauled Kermit the Frog doll. A teenager towing a 4H-club calf in the line behind the boys snickered.
Dean raised a seven-year-old glare that could melt gerbil kidneys up at the teenage boy and his bovine companion before turning back to Sammy. "I keep telling you, Sammy, it's a toy, not an animal."
"Is so 'n aminal!" Sam said scowling, wrapping his arms tightly around the plush green lump. Pastor Jim told his amused imagination that the three-year-old's squashing grip was not causing the doll's already-bulging eyes to protrude further. "Is so! Kermit's a fwog!"
"Frog. With an 'r' sound." Dean corrected and sighed in exasperation before turning to the bemused priest. "I'm sorry Pastor Jim. It's the prize from a Happy Meal we got in Florida last summer and Sammy kind of-"
"He's my fwo- furog!" Sammy held out the malodorous toy again, eyes wide and pleading. "Bless 'im please, Passer Jim? Bless my furog?"
Pastor Jim looked from Sammy's face into Kermit's goggly plastic eyes. Jim was not trained to be a Pastor of Muppets. Not in the slightest. But... why not bless it? Considering the thing was riding around the country with the Winchesters, it was probably more in need of blessing than any other animal present, real or stuffed.
"Pleeeeeease?" said Sammy, wiggling the toy. Kermit's flippers flopped endearingly.
Jim cleared his throat and blessed the toy, sprinkling it with holy water.
Sammy's face lit up and he smushed his newly-blessed toy to his chest, rubbing his nose on the top of its dampened head.
Dean rolled his eyes again. "There. Happy Sammy? Now can we stop bugging Pastor Jim while he's at work?"
Sammy nodded. "Thank'oo, Passer Jim."
"You're welcome, Sammy," Jim said with a gravely restrained smirk.
Dean grinned at Pastor Jim before grabbing his little brother's hand. "Come on, Sammy. Let's see if we can find the lady with the puppies again."
"Okay!" said Sammy, Kermit dangling from one hand, Dean holding the other as they hopped off the plywood dais.
While the still-snickering teenager attempted to wrangle his calf onto the dais, Jim smiled and watched the Winchester boys wend their way through the crowd in the tent, searching for puppies.
- - -
(that's it)
Post A/N: In case anyone missed it, the thing that started all this was me misreading the title of "Master of Puppets" as "Pastor of Muppets". I may run through this later and make a few changes, I'm posting and running before I'm late for work. :-P
Characters: Pastor Jim, Sam (3 and a half-ish), Dean (almost 8), John in passing.
Rating: GEN, G
Word Count: 820-odd
Disclaimer: Nothing in this is mine except the word arrangement and the insanity.
Warnings: No spoilers for anything past first season. Wee!chester. Dubious depictions of a church event I've never attended.
Summary: Saint Francis of Assisi should have anticipated this, really.
A/N: Okay, this is probably only funny and cute in my head, but I misread the title of a Metallica song and wound up with a burning need to write a Pastor Jim and wee!chesters drabble ficlet for the purpose of using it. charis_kalos? Since you're the one most likely to actually enjoy this, I hereby dedicate it to you. Happy Quantum Birthday! :-)
-
Bless the Beasts and Aminals
by CaffieneKitty
-
One thing that could be said about the Animal Blessing service held every year on or close to the Feast of St. Francis, October 4th; there was always something unexpected. Last year it was an entire flock of emus. This year, it was Winchesters.
He'd only known them a short while, but John and his sons had come to roost at the Murphy residence unexpectedly late last night. Sammy had been sound asleep, curled into a nest in the Impala's back seat, clutching a bright green stuffed toy. Dean had been in the front seat, half-asleep himself, but doggedly watching John and keeping up a constant chatter. Dean's eyes drifted half-shut as Jim came out of the house in his bathrobe.
At first Jim had thought John was drunk, leaning heavily on the door frame of the Impala after getting out of the car, but then he'd noticed the bruise forming at the man's hairline. John had taken a knock on the head sometime in the last few hours that was not quite a concussion. As soon as the boys were settled into Jim's guest room, John had passed out on the couch. He was still asleep there (exhaustion and not anything more serious stemming from his injury) when time rolled around for Pastor Jim to lead the morning service.
The trouble was, the service wasn't being held in the Church next door today. It was being held in a borrowed tent on the outskirts of town in a parishioner's field. Saint Francis of Assisi aside, live animals of all descriptions did not mix well with 19th century hardwood floors.
Jim had been trying to work out how to keep an eye on the boys at home and run a service for a tent full of people and animals miles away, when the boys had solved his dilemma themselves. They had come to the morning's service; Sammy entranced by the animals the parishioners brought in to be blessed, Dean with much feigned eye-rolling tolerance of his baby brother's whims. However, Jim had noted that Dean didn't roll his eyes at all when Agnes Gettman let the boys play with the wriggling puppies she'd brought to the service.
After the brief service, a line had formed for the parishioners to bring their animals to him for individual blessings. Jim kept an eye on the Winchester boys and noted they'd attached themselves to the line. Jim suspected they were most likely following another basket of puppies or kittens, although Dean didn't seem as pleased to be there as Sammy did. When they got to the front of the line Jim discovered otherwise.
"Bless 'im please, Passer Jim!" Sammy said, holding up the grubby green toy Jim recalled him clutching when they'd arrived last night. The light of day revealed it to be a much-mauled Kermit the Frog doll. A teenager towing a 4H-club calf in the line behind the boys snickered.
Dean raised a seven-year-old glare that could melt gerbil kidneys up at the teenage boy and his bovine companion before turning back to Sammy. "I keep telling you, Sammy, it's a toy, not an animal."
"Is so 'n aminal!" Sam said scowling, wrapping his arms tightly around the plush green lump. Pastor Jim told his amused imagination that the three-year-old's squashing grip was not causing the doll's already-bulging eyes to protrude further. "Is so! Kermit's a fwog!"
"Frog. With an 'r' sound." Dean corrected and sighed in exasperation before turning to the bemused priest. "I'm sorry Pastor Jim. It's the prize from a Happy Meal we got in Florida last summer and Sammy kind of-"
"He's my fwo- furog!" Sammy held out the malodorous toy again, eyes wide and pleading. "Bless 'im please, Passer Jim? Bless my furog?"
Pastor Jim looked from Sammy's face into Kermit's goggly plastic eyes. Jim was not trained to be a Pastor of Muppets. Not in the slightest. But... why not bless it? Considering the thing was riding around the country with the Winchesters, it was probably more in need of blessing than any other animal present, real or stuffed.
"Pleeeeeease?" said Sammy, wiggling the toy. Kermit's flippers flopped endearingly.
Jim cleared his throat and blessed the toy, sprinkling it with holy water.
Sammy's face lit up and he smushed his newly-blessed toy to his chest, rubbing his nose on the top of its dampened head.
Dean rolled his eyes again. "There. Happy Sammy? Now can we stop bugging Pastor Jim while he's at work?"
Sammy nodded. "Thank'oo, Passer Jim."
"You're welcome, Sammy," Jim said with a gravely restrained smirk.
Dean grinned at Pastor Jim before grabbing his little brother's hand. "Come on, Sammy. Let's see if we can find the lady with the puppies again."
"Okay!" said Sammy, Kermit dangling from one hand, Dean holding the other as they hopped off the plywood dais.
While the still-snickering teenager attempted to wrangle his calf onto the dais, Jim smiled and watched the Winchester boys wend their way through the crowd in the tent, searching for puppies.
- - -
(that's it)
Post A/N: In case anyone missed it, the thing that started all this was me misreading the title of "Master of Puppets" as "Pastor of Muppets". I may run through this later and make a few changes, I'm posting and running before I'm late for work. :-P