Work Text:
Whenever Joel is feeling particularly bored, he can always count on Jimmy to cheer him up. By which he means there is nothing more entertaining than watching him huff and puff useless threats. Though he would say drawing a reaction from the so called Sheriff of Tumble Town is an art, he also cherishes the fact that everybody knows how to push each and every single one of that cowboy’s buttons.
“Get it? Buttons? Because dolls have buttons, and you’re a toy!” The god guffawed, earning a face red with irritation and yells of a justice that would never be found.
Joel doesn’t know when the jokes started to get old. He has always said that it is too easy to get under the Sheriff’s skin. But if he stops to think about it, Jimmy’s skin is tougher than anyone gives him credit for. When it finally cracks, nobody sees it. Nobody thinks of the silence that follows. And nobody knows why the jokes got old.
At first, Joel brushes it off. Jimmy is probably out in another empire preaching his laws or disrespecting them himself. Gods have all the time in the world; he can always come back to prank him some other time.
He stops bothering to come over after a few days of the Sheriff's apparent absence. It’s no fun getting a rise out of the wind and sand. Still, he doesn't waste the opportunity to joke about how irresponsible it is of Jimmy to be so careless with his puny empire, and the other emperors laugh along with a tinge of discomfort.
...
It’s been a while, and people start getting anxious. Jimmy is rarely seen around his own town anymore. There are no new buildings, no trades, no sign of progress on the Tumble Town railroad. Even the warning signs Fwhip leaves around the mesa remain untouched, perhaps unread.
Joel claims the Sheriff is probably just throwing a fit over a silly law or another. He'll come around eventually. He always does.
...
It's been weeks.
Jimmy doesn't respond to messages anymore, not even to chastise Joel about his blatant "disrespect". His house is always silent nowadays, the door always closed despite the unwavering heat; but everyone sees the light coming through the window at night. Fwhip complains that the Sheriff’s office is empty and that the citizens’ concerns go unanswered. His frustration does little to cover the clear worry in his eyes.
Joel starts wondering if something is wrong after all.
...
It's been too long now.
Sausage says he managed to pay Jimmy a visit the other day — after Fwhip begged him to reason with the increasingly isolated ruler. Their conversation was unusually short, and he couldn't help but notice how the cowboy looked sick. Tired. He closed the door on Sausage's face before he could even say goodbye.
Joel is fed up with this.
He comes to Tumble Town one afternoon with the intent of giving the toy sheriff a piece of his mind. Not because he cares, of course not, he doesn't. He just misses teasing Jimmy, and now that he knows his little nemesis is always home, there is really no excuse not to try.
He finds Norman wandering around the empire, drinking water from a puddle where a small unfixed leak on the water tower drips. Strange. It's not like the cat to leave his owner's side unless he’s stationed in the prison. Or to content himself with dirty floor water, for that matter. Joel has to wonder what the hell Jimmy's been up to that he's not even taking care of his cat.
He knocks on the door.
Nobody answers.
He challenges Jimmy with a loud remark about his stupid rules.
Nobody answers.
"Jimmy, open the blummin' door! I know you're in there!"
Nobody answers.
Well then, it's not like Joel has ever respected the Sheriff's personal space anyway. So he doesn’t think twice before forcing a window and breaking into the house. He's a god, he can do whatever he wants.
He finds Jimmy sitting alone in his room, staring at his hat with a pensive look. Joel has never seen him so dishevelled, so untidy, so... miserable. He has always been the kind to mind the authority his own appearance transmitted, but it seems he has taken all the times his name has been doubted and decided to become the smallest man in all empires.
The cowboy takes a single look at the god when he comes in, but doesn't say anything. He only sighs and leaves his hat on his nightstand, beside a sheriff's badge that clearly has been gathering dust.
"Jimmy..."
Joel goes completely ignored as the man gets up and leaves the room. Jimmy lacks the constant bounce and confidence the god has always seen in his step, and for the first time ever, he doesn't find anything to mock him about.
"... if you're sick, you should probably visit a doctor or something," he tries.
The Sheriff ignores him once more in favour of stepping into his dark office. He sits on his chair and opens a drawer, only to stare at it for a moment and then close it again. His head rests on the desk, giving up on whatever he came here to do. He's been giving up on a lot of things lately. Joel can't help but wonder what could have possibly struck the Sheriff this hard.
And then it hits him.
Gods aren't supposed to feel guilty, and Jimmy is the last person on Earth he wanted to admit this to, but the ruler of Stratos feels a pain in his chest when thinking that maybe, just maybe, he dragged the jokes and pranks too long, too far. What does he say to that? How does he swallow the pride?
"Look, I'm... I'm sorry, ok? You're uh...” He takes a deep breath to keep himself from shaking the cowboy by the shoulders. “You're not a toy, alright? There, I said it! Can you stop moping around now?"
Jimmy doesn't even lift his head to look at him.
"Come on, I haven't come here to poke you for months, what are you even mad about?"
Nothing.
"Jimmy, please- Listen, I know I've... maybe I've been a little too hard on you with the uh... the walls and the sculptures and the truth potion and the fishing rod and the warden and the whole toy shop thing... And I'm- I’m sorry.”
...
At some point, he started fidgeting with the pin fastening his toga, unsure of what to say. The lack of response makes the god sigh.
“Oh for goodness sake, I don't know what else you want from me!"
The Law finally raises his eyes to look at him, and gods, Joel has never seen them so devoid of emotion. There is only an underlying, quiet anger, a bitter sadness and hints of old tears that didn't fit such a boisterous person. His voice is hoarse, weak, yet as thunderous as the entirety of Stratos.
"I want you to leave."
“I'm not going to leave, Sausage has been worried sick about you! Everyone's worried about you, I'm worried about you!"
Jimmy makes a sound that could have been a sarcastic hum or a pained whine.
"Why? I’m not a person.”
Joel’s voice catches in his throat, remembering similar words leaving his godly mouth over and over again, followed by a laughter that maybe only he cherished. He steps closer, but he’s interrupted before he can protest.
“You've done enough. For once, just... just leave me alone."
The god of lore is not able to come up with anything to say to that. After a silence that stretches too long, he leaves.
He’s messed up, hasn’t he?