Supernatural Fic (again... I need to branch out a bit, maybe) : Shaving
Title: Shaving
Author: Mariana O'Connor
Character: John
Rating: G
Spoilers: None - preseries
Pairing: none - gen
Disclaimer: I own not John Winchester, nor any part of him, nor either of his sons, nor his car (which is now Dean's) nor anything really to do with Supernatural. I just like pretending they are my puppets and making them dance... DANCE! Bwahahahahaaa!
Summary: John takes a moment on the road to shave.
Author's Note: Fanfic100 prompt 008-weeks
As he pulled into the lay-by he ran a hand across his chin, feeling the stubble - no, it was more like a beard these days. He had not shaved in… he could not remember how long it had been. The hair was no longer just the 5 o’clock shadow he had been thinking of it as, though.
He risked a look in the rear-view mirror, paying attention to himself for once, tilting it down and examining his jaw-line with both hand and eyes. Coupled with the bags under his eyes and his now permanent frown he looked like one of the homeless people he had used to walk past in the street. It was no wonder Sammy had started to cry that morning when he had held him, nor that Dean frowned when he had kissed him goodnight.
Mary had always hated it when he forgot to shave: she’d called him a yeti. She never would kiss him in the morning before he shaved.
Quietly, so as not to wake the boys, he climbed out and went round to the trunk, fishing out his case and he rifled through it until he found what he was looking for: his shaving kit. He had almost forgotten it existed.
There were toilets a little way away, but one look at the backseat told him he was not even going that far away. So he ended up using the car’s mirrors and water from a bottle he had in the glove box - but sparingly, because you never knew where your next drink was coming from.
He cut himself several times, but he figured he would get used to it - shaving when and where he could.
When he was finished, a plastic bag of severed hair on his lap, he re-examined himself. He still looked less than human, but at least he looked respectable now, and the weariness he could do something about.
The frown, however, would probably stay.
Author: Mariana O'Connor
Character: John
Rating: G
Spoilers: None - preseries
Pairing: none - gen
Disclaimer: I own not John Winchester, nor any part of him, nor either of his sons, nor his car (which is now Dean's) nor anything really to do with Supernatural. I just like pretending they are my puppets and making them dance... DANCE! Bwahahahahaaa!
Summary: John takes a moment on the road to shave.
Author's Note: Fanfic100 prompt 008-weeks
As he pulled into the lay-by he ran a hand across his chin, feeling the stubble - no, it was more like a beard these days. He had not shaved in… he could not remember how long it had been. The hair was no longer just the 5 o’clock shadow he had been thinking of it as, though.
He risked a look in the rear-view mirror, paying attention to himself for once, tilting it down and examining his jaw-line with both hand and eyes. Coupled with the bags under his eyes and his now permanent frown he looked like one of the homeless people he had used to walk past in the street. It was no wonder Sammy had started to cry that morning when he had held him, nor that Dean frowned when he had kissed him goodnight.
Mary had always hated it when he forgot to shave: she’d called him a yeti. She never would kiss him in the morning before he shaved.
Quietly, so as not to wake the boys, he climbed out and went round to the trunk, fishing out his case and he rifled through it until he found what he was looking for: his shaving kit. He had almost forgotten it existed.
There were toilets a little way away, but one look at the backseat told him he was not even going that far away. So he ended up using the car’s mirrors and water from a bottle he had in the glove box - but sparingly, because you never knew where your next drink was coming from.
He cut himself several times, but he figured he would get used to it - shaving when and where he could.
When he was finished, a plastic bag of severed hair on his lap, he re-examined himself. He still looked less than human, but at least he looked respectable now, and the weariness he could do something about.
The frown, however, would probably stay.