fic: Ellie (Supernatural; Ellen; gen)
Ellie
Supernatural; Ellen; pg; 355 words
"I'm not a little kid anymore, Mom. My name is Ellen."
Thanks to luzdeestrellas for looking this over. Written for the West Wing title project.
~*~
Ellie
"Ellie, it's time for dinner."
"It's Princess Ellie," she said, running into the house still wearing the frilly paper tiara from her birthday party two days earlier, and her new red bathrobe tied around her neck like a cape.
"It's time for dinner, your highness," her mother said, trying not to laugh, and Ellie nodded regally.
*
"Ellie, you can't go to the movies unless your homework's done."
Ellen rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth in annoyance. "I'm not a little kid anymore, Mom. My name is Ellen."
"And I'm the one who gave it to you, so you can lose the attitude right now, Ellie Jean."
Ellen huffed and tried to moderate her tone in appeasement. "My homework is done, mom. May I please go to the movies?"
Her mother laughed. "You may. Be home by eleven."
"But Mom--"
"By eleven. Ellen."
Ellen preened. "Yes, Mom."
*
Ellen was eighteen when she met Bill Harvelle. She was behind the bar when he came in, tracking mud and wet all over the newly swept floor, and she wasn't shy about scolding him. He didn't seem to mind.
"Whiskey, neat," he said, folding his lanky body onto a barstool. "You Ellie Rollins?"
"Yeah," she said, though for the past five years, only her mother had called her Ellie.
"Heard you had a mouth on you."
She put a hand on her hip and snorted. "Did you?"
"Also heard you were the best looking woman in the state. Had to see for myself."
She laughed. "You're a liar--"
"Bill. Bill Harvelle." He took her hand in his, and later, he fucked her in the backseat of his car, murmuring, "Ellie, Ellie, Ellie," against her neck, her mouth, her breasts, the whole time.
*
The phone rang. "Harvelle's," she said, hushing Jo, who was shrieking and spinning between tables instead of wiping them down like she was supposed to.
"Ellen?" John Winchester's voice, rough as sandpaper, and Ellen's breath caught in her throat.
"John?"
"Bill's dead. I'm sorry." He kept talking, but she didn't hear him.
All she could think was that she'd never hear Bill say her name again.
end
*
Feedback is adored.
~*~
Supernatural; Ellen; pg; 355 words
"I'm not a little kid anymore, Mom. My name is Ellen."
Thanks to luzdeestrellas for looking this over. Written for the West Wing title project.
~*~
Ellie
"Ellie, it's time for dinner."
"It's Princess Ellie," she said, running into the house still wearing the frilly paper tiara from her birthday party two days earlier, and her new red bathrobe tied around her neck like a cape.
"It's time for dinner, your highness," her mother said, trying not to laugh, and Ellie nodded regally.
*
"Ellie, you can't go to the movies unless your homework's done."
Ellen rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth in annoyance. "I'm not a little kid anymore, Mom. My name is Ellen."
"And I'm the one who gave it to you, so you can lose the attitude right now, Ellie Jean."
Ellen huffed and tried to moderate her tone in appeasement. "My homework is done, mom. May I please go to the movies?"
Her mother laughed. "You may. Be home by eleven."
"But Mom--"
"By eleven. Ellen."
Ellen preened. "Yes, Mom."
*
Ellen was eighteen when she met Bill Harvelle. She was behind the bar when he came in, tracking mud and wet all over the newly swept floor, and she wasn't shy about scolding him. He didn't seem to mind.
"Whiskey, neat," he said, folding his lanky body onto a barstool. "You Ellie Rollins?"
"Yeah," she said, though for the past five years, only her mother had called her Ellie.
"Heard you had a mouth on you."
She put a hand on her hip and snorted. "Did you?"
"Also heard you were the best looking woman in the state. Had to see for myself."
She laughed. "You're a liar--"
"Bill. Bill Harvelle." He took her hand in his, and later, he fucked her in the backseat of his car, murmuring, "Ellie, Ellie, Ellie," against her neck, her mouth, her breasts, the whole time.
*
The phone rang. "Harvelle's," she said, hushing Jo, who was shrieking and spinning between tables instead of wiping them down like she was supposed to.
"Ellen?" John Winchester's voice, rough as sandpaper, and Ellen's breath caught in her throat.
"John?"
"Bill's dead. I'm sorry." He kept talking, but she didn't hear him.
All she could think was that she'd never hear Bill say her name again.
end
*
Feedback is adored.
~*~