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last01standingTitle: Goaltender Interference
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: SPN is not mine
Summary: Teaching the angel residing in his body how to be a NHL level goaltender isn’t something Jim Novak ever considered. [part of the hockey AU]
Author's note: So, it seems my fic muse only likes to wake up when I should be studying for exams. *facepalm*
GOALTENDER INTERFERENCE
Teaching the angel residing in his body how to be a NHL level goaltender isn’t something Jim Novak ever considered. Ever since he was a kid he couldn’t shake the picture of Momma whacking him over the head with a newspaper when he thanked god for a miracle save.
“God doesn’t care about no hockey game,” she’d hissed. “God cares about if you’re a good person. Not if you can keep some hunk of rubber out of the back of some net.”
It had sounded vaguely blasphemous to Jimmy’s adolescent ears. His dad had been a hockey player too. A star goaltender right up until the accident took him to heaven just a few years too soon. He had plans to follow in his daddy’s footsteps, a sacred passage just like the smooth pages of his dad’s bible he kept tucked under his pillow.
Jimmy never really minded the reprimands. He felt something different on the ice. The world cleared and his focus narrowed and something in the cut of the ice rang of the divine.
So he let his Momma yell at him, scold him for invoking God’s name over some game.
Turns out his Momma was wrong.
Really, really wrong.
***
So the apocalypse has come to town and Jim Novak’s chained to this angel called Castiel and it’s not at all like he thought it would be, not tranquil and drifting, like the place he went when he was seeing the puck really well, where his glove hand moved almost automatically.
It’s a lot more like being on the wrong side of a slap shot from Zdeno Charra. One second the pucks at the blue line and the next it’s behind you.
That’s what his life is like now. He flits in and out of consciousness and misses half of what’s going on. Takes one second to blink and the red light’s blaring behind him.
***
There’s no shame in being a back-up. Especially not with backing up someone like Marty Brodeur. His technique is picture perfect, something that could have come from an instructional video but that’s all he has. For an NHL athlete, Jimmy Novak is on the slow side. His reactions aren’t quite as quick as they need to be. He doesn’t ever pull up miracle saves.
He gets some attention from the press when he is first called up, but the attention is all from his lineage. James Novak Sr. was top ten all time in a handful of goaltending statistics and Jim, when all is said and done, just isn’t the goalie his father was.
There’s no shame in that either. It had taken him years to get over that fact. Years to stop trying to live up to a man who had died when he was four.
Besides, James Novak was one of the greats between the pipes. Jim was apparently chosen, a suitable vessel for an angel.
Different kind of special. It makes Jim feel pretty good about himself for the twenty seconds before he realizes how much being a vessel to an angel sucks.
***
Talking to Castiel is... well it’s intimidating. His whole person feels like it’s exploding every second he’s with the angel and he can’t imagine his presence is any more then a fly buzzing on the wall.
But every once in a while he gets hit with this wave of something familiar. Some emotion that seems almost human. Frustration.
Castiel! Castiel, what is going on?
There’s a silence from the angel’s end before he replies, I find myself most displeased when the siren erupts and I appear to have developed an irrational hatred of the red light.
It takes Jim a minute to decode fact from angel speak and when he’s done, he’s too shocked to let his amusement show. Hold on, you don’t like it when they score on you?
It should be immaterial.
The shock passes and Jimmy feels his day get a little bit brighter, No goalie likes getting scored on.
I would be very... grateful if you could show me how to make it stop.
***
He had to give Castiel one thing, the guy was resourceful because he blinks and he’s on the ice with Sam and Dean Winchester as Castiel crouches in front of the goal.
You enlisted reinforcements.
Much like you, Jimmy, they have offered their services. The elder Winchester says he has played a season of goal before.
Jimmy tries not to laugh. There’s a big difference between playing in peewee leagues and playing in the NHL.
Teach me, Castiel says.
***
He’s awake more after that. Awake when he’s on the ice, awake and screaming instructions about things that should have just been instinct to someone on the NHL level.
But Castiel doesn’t understand the game yet. He doesn’t quite see the points where you should switch to the butterfly and he doesn’t know how to cut off an angle. Jimmy feels like he’s watching television, trying to tell a player how to move, which pass is open. He feels ridiculous but Castiel responds so he doesn’t stop.
When this is over he’s going to have a hard time breaking the habit of talking to himself.
If this is ever over. He’s pretty sure hell would push Castiel out of him but he’d rather it not come to that no matter how much he misses controlling his own blockers.
***
And maybe it feels a little weird that this is his place in the grand of scheme of things. He’s the guy in the backseat of his own body, screaming out advice to angels when was never really one for screaming when he was on his own.
But he’s doing something and he’s helping and he’s the day to day goalie for the first time in his career and even if he’s not in the driver’s seat, he’s going to take some of the credit.
***
“God’s got plans for all his children,” Momma tells him when he’s twelve years old, cut from a hockey team for the first time in his life.
Jimmy looked up at her with wide blue eyes, biting back the tears. “I wasn’t good enough.”
“I promise you are, baby boy,” she says. “You decide you want something and you go and get it. You don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise. I know it in my heart, God’s got big plans for you.”
(end)
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: SPN is not mine
Summary: Teaching the angel residing in his body how to be a NHL level goaltender isn’t something Jim Novak ever considered. [part of the hockey AU]
Author's note: So, it seems my fic muse only likes to wake up when I should be studying for exams. *facepalm*
Teaching the angel residing in his body how to be a NHL level goaltender isn’t something Jim Novak ever considered. Ever since he was a kid he couldn’t shake the picture of Momma whacking him over the head with a newspaper when he thanked god for a miracle save.
“God doesn’t care about no hockey game,” she’d hissed. “God cares about if you’re a good person. Not if you can keep some hunk of rubber out of the back of some net.”
It had sounded vaguely blasphemous to Jimmy’s adolescent ears. His dad had been a hockey player too. A star goaltender right up until the accident took him to heaven just a few years too soon. He had plans to follow in his daddy’s footsteps, a sacred passage just like the smooth pages of his dad’s bible he kept tucked under his pillow.
Jimmy never really minded the reprimands. He felt something different on the ice. The world cleared and his focus narrowed and something in the cut of the ice rang of the divine.
So he let his Momma yell at him, scold him for invoking God’s name over some game.
Turns out his Momma was wrong.
Really, really wrong.
So the apocalypse has come to town and Jim Novak’s chained to this angel called Castiel and it’s not at all like he thought it would be, not tranquil and drifting, like the place he went when he was seeing the puck really well, where his glove hand moved almost automatically.
It’s a lot more like being on the wrong side of a slap shot from Zdeno Charra. One second the pucks at the blue line and the next it’s behind you.
That’s what his life is like now. He flits in and out of consciousness and misses half of what’s going on. Takes one second to blink and the red light’s blaring behind him.
There’s no shame in being a back-up. Especially not with backing up someone like Marty Brodeur. His technique is picture perfect, something that could have come from an instructional video but that’s all he has. For an NHL athlete, Jimmy Novak is on the slow side. His reactions aren’t quite as quick as they need to be. He doesn’t ever pull up miracle saves.
He gets some attention from the press when he is first called up, but the attention is all from his lineage. James Novak Sr. was top ten all time in a handful of goaltending statistics and Jim, when all is said and done, just isn’t the goalie his father was.
There’s no shame in that either. It had taken him years to get over that fact. Years to stop trying to live up to a man who had died when he was four.
Besides, James Novak was one of the greats between the pipes. Jim was apparently chosen, a suitable vessel for an angel.
Different kind of special. It makes Jim feel pretty good about himself for the twenty seconds before he realizes how much being a vessel to an angel sucks.
Talking to Castiel is... well it’s intimidating. His whole person feels like it’s exploding every second he’s with the angel and he can’t imagine his presence is any more then a fly buzzing on the wall.
But every once in a while he gets hit with this wave of something familiar. Some emotion that seems almost human. Frustration.
Castiel! Castiel, what is going on?
There’s a silence from the angel’s end before he replies, I find myself most displeased when the siren erupts and I appear to have developed an irrational hatred of the red light.
It takes Jim a minute to decode fact from angel speak and when he’s done, he’s too shocked to let his amusement show. Hold on, you don’t like it when they score on you?
It should be immaterial.
The shock passes and Jimmy feels his day get a little bit brighter, No goalie likes getting scored on.
I would be very... grateful if you could show me how to make it stop.
He had to give Castiel one thing, the guy was resourceful because he blinks and he’s on the ice with Sam and Dean Winchester as Castiel crouches in front of the goal.
You enlisted reinforcements.
Much like you, Jimmy, they have offered their services. The elder Winchester says he has played a season of goal before.
Jimmy tries not to laugh. There’s a big difference between playing in peewee leagues and playing in the NHL.
Teach me, Castiel says.
He’s awake more after that. Awake when he’s on the ice, awake and screaming instructions about things that should have just been instinct to someone on the NHL level.
But Castiel doesn’t understand the game yet. He doesn’t quite see the points where you should switch to the butterfly and he doesn’t know how to cut off an angle. Jimmy feels like he’s watching television, trying to tell a player how to move, which pass is open. He feels ridiculous but Castiel responds so he doesn’t stop.
When this is over he’s going to have a hard time breaking the habit of talking to himself.
If this is ever over. He’s pretty sure hell would push Castiel out of him but he’d rather it not come to that no matter how much he misses controlling his own blockers.
And maybe it feels a little weird that this is his place in the grand of scheme of things. He’s the guy in the backseat of his own body, screaming out advice to angels when was never really one for screaming when he was on his own.
But he’s doing something and he’s helping and he’s the day to day goalie for the first time in his career and even if he’s not in the driver’s seat, he’s going to take some of the credit.
“God’s got plans for all his children,” Momma tells him when he’s twelve years old, cut from a hockey team for the first time in his life.
Jimmy looked up at her with wide blue eyes, biting back the tears. “I wasn’t good enough.”
“I promise you are, baby boy,” she says. “You decide you want something and you go and get it. You don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise. I know it in my heart, God’s got big plans for you.”
(end)
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