Reaper: Cinderella Man
Mar. 21st, 2009 05:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lotus0kidRating: G
Word Count: 559
Disclaimer: Reaper sprang from the brilliant mind of Kevin Smith, not mine.
A/N: So, I rewatched 2x3 "The Sweet Science," and really couldn't resist any longer.
Summary: Fix-it fic for Red, plain and simple.
Inside the vessel, it’s dark. Claustrophobic and enormous at the same time, the blackness stretching out all around even as it closes in, tight as a fist. But it’s okay, Red tells himself. No matter what happens now, it’s okay. Because he’s not a bum, and he knows it. He stood in his office, looked into Sam’s baby blues, and decided whatever he did with his life as an escaped soul, it wouldn’t mean a thing if he had to kill this gutsy kid to do it. Then he really would’ve been a bum. Worse.
It’s getting warm. The vessel must be coming to its final destination. Red tries to ignore a needle of fear. It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay...
Then there’s light, light so bright it’s almost tangible. No, it is tangible- the dark fist turned into a gentle embrace. Red almost cries out with relief. He opens his eyes (he couldn’t say if he had them or not in the vessel, not that it would’ve mattered if he did), and all he sees is soft whiteness. And a- man. He thinks. At least, that’s what he looks like. A well-dressed man, his brown hair neatly cut above his pleasant expression.
“Hiya,” Red says, “I’m Mike Sabatino. Uh, my friends call me Red.” He puts out a hand, but finds his glove still on it. He’s still in his boxing trunks as well, like not a second has passed since his last fight with Sam.
“Hi, Red,” the man says with a smile, “I’m Steve.”
Red nods, “Hi, Steve.” He glances around, “You, uh, done a little redecorating in Hell since I was here last.”
Steve chuckles, “Please. They’re convinced down there that fire and brimstone will never go out of style.”
Red blinks, “Down there? So...”
“You’ve been sprung, daddio,” Steve replies, brows raised above twinkling eyes, “Hell’s not for people who sacrifice themselves for someone else.”
Red gapes, “You ain’t joking.”
“Cross my heart. And, on a personal note, I’d like to thank you. Sam’s... well, we both know he needs the help.”
“What, are you like his guardian angel or something?”
A complicated expression flashes across Steve’s face, “A little from column A, a little from column B. Either way, I made it my business to get you where you belong, so I could express my gratitude in person.”
Steve’s face is now so purely happy, it makes Red blush like he hasn’t since he was a scrawny thirteen-year-old. “Well, y’know, it was my pleasure. Just hope he can keep himself outta trouble.”
Steve smiles tiredly, gaze fallen, “That might be difficult, since our Sam has basically leased a condo in Trouble.”
Red grunts, “I had a feeling. Okay, so, all right. If you need help keepin’ an eye on him then, you let me know.” Red gives Steve’s shoulder a soft poke of emphasis.
The angel nods, his smile softening. When his eyes meet Red’s again, they’re back to twinkling, “We’ll see, though. Heaven’s a pretty kookie bash.”
“Yeah?” Red says as he finds a grin of his own tugging up the corners of his mouth.
“Uh huh. Come on,” Steve takes Red by the arm, “Let me show you around.”
The light bends, creates a tunnel down which the pair walk. Red’s grin grows into a beam which Steve returns. It’s okay.
Word Count: 559
Disclaimer: Reaper sprang from the brilliant mind of Kevin Smith, not mine.
A/N: So, I rewatched 2x3 "The Sweet Science," and really couldn't resist any longer.
Summary: Fix-it fic for Red, plain and simple.
Inside the vessel, it’s dark. Claustrophobic and enormous at the same time, the blackness stretching out all around even as it closes in, tight as a fist. But it’s okay, Red tells himself. No matter what happens now, it’s okay. Because he’s not a bum, and he knows it. He stood in his office, looked into Sam’s baby blues, and decided whatever he did with his life as an escaped soul, it wouldn’t mean a thing if he had to kill this gutsy kid to do it. Then he really would’ve been a bum. Worse.
It’s getting warm. The vessel must be coming to its final destination. Red tries to ignore a needle of fear. It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay...
Then there’s light, light so bright it’s almost tangible. No, it is tangible- the dark fist turned into a gentle embrace. Red almost cries out with relief. He opens his eyes (he couldn’t say if he had them or not in the vessel, not that it would’ve mattered if he did), and all he sees is soft whiteness. And a- man. He thinks. At least, that’s what he looks like. A well-dressed man, his brown hair neatly cut above his pleasant expression.
“Hiya,” Red says, “I’m Mike Sabatino. Uh, my friends call me Red.” He puts out a hand, but finds his glove still on it. He’s still in his boxing trunks as well, like not a second has passed since his last fight with Sam.
“Hi, Red,” the man says with a smile, “I’m Steve.”
Red nods, “Hi, Steve.” He glances around, “You, uh, done a little redecorating in Hell since I was here last.”
Steve chuckles, “Please. They’re convinced down there that fire and brimstone will never go out of style.”
Red blinks, “Down there? So...”
“You’ve been sprung, daddio,” Steve replies, brows raised above twinkling eyes, “Hell’s not for people who sacrifice themselves for someone else.”
Red gapes, “You ain’t joking.”
“Cross my heart. And, on a personal note, I’d like to thank you. Sam’s... well, we both know he needs the help.”
“What, are you like his guardian angel or something?”
A complicated expression flashes across Steve’s face, “A little from column A, a little from column B. Either way, I made it my business to get you where you belong, so I could express my gratitude in person.”
Steve’s face is now so purely happy, it makes Red blush like he hasn’t since he was a scrawny thirteen-year-old. “Well, y’know, it was my pleasure. Just hope he can keep himself outta trouble.”
Steve smiles tiredly, gaze fallen, “That might be difficult, since our Sam has basically leased a condo in Trouble.”
Red grunts, “I had a feeling. Okay, so, all right. If you need help keepin’ an eye on him then, you let me know.” Red gives Steve’s shoulder a soft poke of emphasis.
The angel nods, his smile softening. When his eyes meet Red’s again, they’re back to twinkling, “We’ll see, though. Heaven’s a pretty kookie bash.”
“Yeah?” Red says as he finds a grin of his own tugging up the corners of his mouth.
“Uh huh. Come on,” Steve takes Red by the arm, “Let me show you around.”
The light bends, creates a tunnel down which the pair walk. Red’s grin grows into a beam which Steve returns. It’s okay.
