SPN FIC - He and She II
Here's the rest of the drabbles I speed-typed the other day. Mostly John & Mary.
CHARACTERS: John, Mary, Jo, Bobby, Sam, Jess, Kate Milligan
GENRE: Het
RATING: PG
SPOILERS: Jump the Shark; final drabble is spoilery for 5.01, 5.02 and 5.03
LENGTH: 1200 words
HE AND SHE
By Carol Davis
“You gotta,” his best friend insists.
John shrugs and stuffs his hands into his pockets as he wanders along the sidewalk. “I dunno,” he says, frowning when his voice cracks.
“Mary Campbell’s the prettiest girl in our class. You want some other guy to get her? You gotta talk to her. Let her know you like her.”
“You tell her.”
“Winchester,” Donny Brady says. “You a wimp, or what?”
He’s thirteen years old, is what he is. And this kind of thing is HARD. But Donny’s gonna ride his butt until he does it.
“Okay,” he sighs. “I’ll do it.”
*
She’s standing with her friends outside Dillon’s when John rounds the corner. The sight of them standing so close together almost makes him turn around, and when they giggle and laugh he figures they’re laughing at him.
He almost turns around. But before he can, she looks at him.
Looks right at him.
And smiles.
The other girls laugh again, but then they go into the store, leaving him alone on the corner with Mary. She doesn’t say anything, and for a minute he wonders if she’s as nervous as he is.
She can’t be. Because she tells him, “Hi.”
*
“Yeah,” John tells her. “I think I do.”
It’s not that weird of an answer (at least, he didn’t think it was before he said it) but Mary’s frowning like she doesn’t believe him. Like she thinks he’s just saying what she wants to hear.
“What?” he asks.
“You do? Really?”
“I know,” he shrugs. “It’s pretty girly.”
The frown disappears, and there’s a light in her eyes when she smiles. “No. I think it’s nice. It’s not girly at all. I think it’s wonderful.”
And it is. Believing in happily ever after, because that’s what he’ll have with her.
*
Mary has a way of deflating him with a word, or a look. She doesn’t mean to do it, he thinks; if she knew how much things meant to him, she wouldn’t be so negative. No, John doesn’t believe she should agree with him about everything. But when it comes to a few select things, it’d be nice if she’d feel the same way he does.
About the car, for instance.
“I hate it,” she says, and the words hurt. He’s only owned the Impala for an hour, but he’s already come to love her.
The car.
“Oh,” he sighs.
*
“What do you want to do?” John asks her quietly.
He’s been telling Mary for days that yes, he’ll take her away - but he can’t, not any more. Her parents are dead and the police have told her not to go anywhere. They can’t believe she’s guilty, but still, they said, “Don’t leave town.”
He didn’t want to leave, not this soon after he got home from Vietnam, but he would have done it for her. He’d do anything for her.
Right now, that means staying with her. Right here, in Lawrence.
“I don’t know,” she murmurs. “I don’t know.”
*
John pads into the kitchen feeling half dead. Cool water splashing over his hands as he washes the paint smears off feels good, but doesn’t do a thing to ease his stiff back, arms, legs. He spent the whole day painting: did the guest room in the soft violet color Mary picked, their room in blue. The job’s done now, and so is he. Completely wiped out. His brain’s a gray fog.
“It looks beautiful,” Mary says, and he turns to see her holding a lamp whose base is a circus elephant.
Her smile makes every ache and pain worthwhile.
*
John sees her coming from half a block away: his beautiful bride, holding aloft an umbrella the same brilliant blue the sky would be if it wasn’t pouring. The rain water’s soaked the legs of her jeans, but she doesn’t seem to care about that; she’s dancing along like a little kid, scuffed sneakers splashing in the puddles.
“You oughta see yourself right now,” Mike Guenther says as he takes another bite of his apple.
No mirror necessary. John’s well aware of the goofy, happy expression on his face as he runs out into the rain to greet his wife.
*
Mary has never looked more beautiful, John thinks as he steps into her hospital room. It was a long, rough labor, and how tired she is shows all over her face. The nurses have cleaned her up, wiped away sweat, blood and tears and dressed her in one of her new nighties, but still, she looks pretty battle weary.
“Hi,” he whispers as he leans in to kiss her.
“Hi yourself.”
As if he needs to be a part of the conversation, their newborn son says, “Ahhhhh.”
It makes them both laugh.
“Worth it?” John whispers.
“Oh yeah,” she says.
*
Jo can’t help but remember those first few days she knew Dean Winchester. Can’t help but remember the look in his eyes, the way he sized her up, decided she was worth pursuing.
Sort of.
He was scared of her mother, he said.
He wouldn’t have been the only guy her mother’s tough as nails attitude scared off. If it had really been her mother that pushed him away.
They’ve known each other for a lot of years when she finally realizes what really happened.
He could find somebody to screw pretty much anywhere.
What he needed was a sister.
*
Kate holds him in her arms again before she dies. For a moment she thinks, no; what she wants to remember is her son.
But John Winchester gave her her son.
She never meant for their time together to mean anything, and he certainly didn’t. Even so, he was tender and considerate, and she didn’t bother to consider whether that meant he was thinking of someone else. It was a brief encounter, nothing more.
But it gave her Adam.
She has to be grateful for that. So as she bleeds her life away, she thinks of him.
And thanks him.
*
Jess lets out an anguished scream that brings Sam running from the other room. “What?” he gasps.
“I’m an idiot,” she says. “That’s all. I’m an idiot.”
“Because?”
She points to a bowl on the kitchen table. The aroma told Sam it was applesauce before he got anywhere near the kitchen. “It’s lumpy,” Jess sputters.
“And that’s a problem?”
“It’s lumpy!”
Sam gathers her into his arms and strokes her hair. “No lumps in gravy. Or mashed potatoes. Chunky applesauce? That’s a yes.”
“Oh,” she mutters.
“Maybe you shouldn’t try to cook when you’re tired.”
“I guess not,” she sighs.
*
His legs are the problem. The real problem, the immediate problem, because it’s the damn Apocalypse and he needs to be able to walk.
Run, maybe.
It’s not like he’s put certain parts to a whole lot of use these last few years. A nice little encounter now and then, sure. But he’s not married anymore. It’s his legs that really need to work, not his dick.
The question nags at him anyway, until the new nurse smiles at him in that particular way. “Can I help you?” she asks, a little coy.
“Yeah,” Bobby replies. “I think you can.”
* * * * *
CHARACTERS: John, Mary, Jo, Bobby, Sam, Jess, Kate Milligan
GENRE: Het
RATING: PG
SPOILERS: Jump the Shark; final drabble is spoilery for 5.01, 5.02 and 5.03
LENGTH: 1200 words
HE AND SHE
By Carol Davis
“You gotta,” his best friend insists.
John shrugs and stuffs his hands into his pockets as he wanders along the sidewalk. “I dunno,” he says, frowning when his voice cracks.
“Mary Campbell’s the prettiest girl in our class. You want some other guy to get her? You gotta talk to her. Let her know you like her.”
“You tell her.”
“Winchester,” Donny Brady says. “You a wimp, or what?”
He’s thirteen years old, is what he is. And this kind of thing is HARD. But Donny’s gonna ride his butt until he does it.
“Okay,” he sighs. “I’ll do it.”
*
She’s standing with her friends outside Dillon’s when John rounds the corner. The sight of them standing so close together almost makes him turn around, and when they giggle and laugh he figures they’re laughing at him.
He almost turns around. But before he can, she looks at him.
Looks right at him.
And smiles.
The other girls laugh again, but then they go into the store, leaving him alone on the corner with Mary. She doesn’t say anything, and for a minute he wonders if she’s as nervous as he is.
She can’t be. Because she tells him, “Hi.”
*
“Yeah,” John tells her. “I think I do.”
It’s not that weird of an answer (at least, he didn’t think it was before he said it) but Mary’s frowning like she doesn’t believe him. Like she thinks he’s just saying what she wants to hear.
“What?” he asks.
“You do? Really?”
“I know,” he shrugs. “It’s pretty girly.”
The frown disappears, and there’s a light in her eyes when she smiles. “No. I think it’s nice. It’s not girly at all. I think it’s wonderful.”
And it is. Believing in happily ever after, because that’s what he’ll have with her.
*
Mary has a way of deflating him with a word, or a look. She doesn’t mean to do it, he thinks; if she knew how much things meant to him, she wouldn’t be so negative. No, John doesn’t believe she should agree with him about everything. But when it comes to a few select things, it’d be nice if she’d feel the same way he does.
About the car, for instance.
“I hate it,” she says, and the words hurt. He’s only owned the Impala for an hour, but he’s already come to love her.
The car.
“Oh,” he sighs.
*
“What do you want to do?” John asks her quietly.
He’s been telling Mary for days that yes, he’ll take her away - but he can’t, not any more. Her parents are dead and the police have told her not to go anywhere. They can’t believe she’s guilty, but still, they said, “Don’t leave town.”
He didn’t want to leave, not this soon after he got home from Vietnam, but he would have done it for her. He’d do anything for her.
Right now, that means staying with her. Right here, in Lawrence.
“I don’t know,” she murmurs. “I don’t know.”
*
John pads into the kitchen feeling half dead. Cool water splashing over his hands as he washes the paint smears off feels good, but doesn’t do a thing to ease his stiff back, arms, legs. He spent the whole day painting: did the guest room in the soft violet color Mary picked, their room in blue. The job’s done now, and so is he. Completely wiped out. His brain’s a gray fog.
“It looks beautiful,” Mary says, and he turns to see her holding a lamp whose base is a circus elephant.
Her smile makes every ache and pain worthwhile.
*
John sees her coming from half a block away: his beautiful bride, holding aloft an umbrella the same brilliant blue the sky would be if it wasn’t pouring. The rain water’s soaked the legs of her jeans, but she doesn’t seem to care about that; she’s dancing along like a little kid, scuffed sneakers splashing in the puddles.
“You oughta see yourself right now,” Mike Guenther says as he takes another bite of his apple.
No mirror necessary. John’s well aware of the goofy, happy expression on his face as he runs out into the rain to greet his wife.
*
Mary has never looked more beautiful, John thinks as he steps into her hospital room. It was a long, rough labor, and how tired she is shows all over her face. The nurses have cleaned her up, wiped away sweat, blood and tears and dressed her in one of her new nighties, but still, she looks pretty battle weary.
“Hi,” he whispers as he leans in to kiss her.
“Hi yourself.”
As if he needs to be a part of the conversation, their newborn son says, “Ahhhhh.”
It makes them both laugh.
“Worth it?” John whispers.
“Oh yeah,” she says.
*
Jo can’t help but remember those first few days she knew Dean Winchester. Can’t help but remember the look in his eyes, the way he sized her up, decided she was worth pursuing.
Sort of.
He was scared of her mother, he said.
He wouldn’t have been the only guy her mother’s tough as nails attitude scared off. If it had really been her mother that pushed him away.
They’ve known each other for a lot of years when she finally realizes what really happened.
He could find somebody to screw pretty much anywhere.
What he needed was a sister.
*
Kate holds him in her arms again before she dies. For a moment she thinks, no; what she wants to remember is her son.
But John Winchester gave her her son.
She never meant for their time together to mean anything, and he certainly didn’t. Even so, he was tender and considerate, and she didn’t bother to consider whether that meant he was thinking of someone else. It was a brief encounter, nothing more.
But it gave her Adam.
She has to be grateful for that. So as she bleeds her life away, she thinks of him.
And thanks him.
*
Jess lets out an anguished scream that brings Sam running from the other room. “What?” he gasps.
“I’m an idiot,” she says. “That’s all. I’m an idiot.”
“Because?”
She points to a bowl on the kitchen table. The aroma told Sam it was applesauce before he got anywhere near the kitchen. “It’s lumpy,” Jess sputters.
“And that’s a problem?”
“It’s lumpy!”
Sam gathers her into his arms and strokes her hair. “No lumps in gravy. Or mashed potatoes. Chunky applesauce? That’s a yes.”
“Oh,” she mutters.
“Maybe you shouldn’t try to cook when you’re tired.”
“I guess not,” she sighs.
*
His legs are the problem. The real problem, the immediate problem, because it’s the damn Apocalypse and he needs to be able to walk.
Run, maybe.
It’s not like he’s put certain parts to a whole lot of use these last few years. A nice little encounter now and then, sure. But he’s not married anymore. It’s his legs that really need to work, not his dick.
The question nags at him anyway, until the new nurse smiles at him in that particular way. “Can I help you?” she asks, a little coy.
“Yeah,” Bobby replies. “I think you can.”
* * * * *