therapeutic thump

i like your moxie, sassafras!


Previous Entry Share Next Entry
Supernatural ficlet ("Mayday") for janissa11's birthday!
the arch of the eyebrows gives it away
innie_darling
You all know janissa11, right? Author of some truly fabulous fic? Well, it's her birthday, and I wanted to write her a little something to celebrate. So, for my darling Em, here's a birthday story with all three Winchester men, set many moons ago. John POV. (And my thanks to monkiedude for giving this a look.)




"Mayday"


May 1, 1997


Dean comes back from parking the Impala, sees him sitting on the open sofabed, and tightens his lips just like Mary used to - careful, bracing, buying time. Today, of all days, he cannot deny Mary's boy, so when Dean stabs one finger at the bedroom door and says "Go," he does as he's told.

His back twinges treacherously as he rises from the lumpy surface. He's getting tired more easily these days, but there's no way he's going to shuffle to the bedroom like an old man. The pillow hits him square in the back. His boy's got perfect aim.

He catches the flat pillow automatically and looks over questioningly. Dean's sitting on the edge of the thin mattress, pulling his shirt off. "Sammy doesn't like to share," Dean explains as soon as his mouth's clear of the material. He rolls the shirt up and pulls off his jeans and lies down, sighing contentedly like he's on a featherbed. John has no doubt that this is an act for his benefit; there's a loose spring somewhere in the hellish bowels of that mattress. He's not sure whether he should let Dean get away with lying to him, but lets it go with a laugh when Dean pretends to snore, snorting and wheezing outrageously.

He falls silent when he pushes open the bedroom door. The curtains are thick but not pulled completely shut; orange light from the parking lot streams through the unwashed window and the ripped screen. Sammy is one long, dark, insistent line against the overbleached sheets, his hair fanned out sweetly over the pillow like a girl's. John looks down at his baby boy, mouth relaxed and open, one arm tucked awkwardly under his chest.

He eases himself onto the bed, distributing his weight like he's crawling through the jungle on his belly again, shifting gingerly. He lies flat on his back and tucks Dean's pillow under his spine. The sheets are rough and he can hear his hair catch as he turns his head to see if Sammy's cat eyes have opened. Sammy sleeps on, the faint frown on his face visible through proximity. He wonders what conundrum is taunting Sammy's logical mind right now. Or maybe he's just dreaming, running away with words and images too bright and exotic for this dingy place, chasing them frantically.

He tries not to imagine how far behind Sammy's leaving him. He starts to shift but his back seizes up until he settles into the same position once more, flat and staring up at the ceiling. After all these years it still takes effort not to let the sight of a ceiling bother him, and the struggle tenses his body, fighting against his mind's desire for sleep. A hot breeze blows through the room and his floundering brain seizes it gladly, remembering what it once promised.

"John," she said, smiling at him, her hands moving busily; "do you know what day it is?"

He's reclining lazily, stuffed full of her good cooking, the heat of the sun and the scent of newly mown grass conspiring to keep his brain muddled. "Nahhh," he said, nice and slow, wishing her pretty hands weren't hidden by her dress, fluttering in the sultry breeze.

"It's May Day," she said, resting the mayflower wreath on his head.

"You're a goddamn hippie," he growled, plucking the wreath off with a snap of the wrist.

"And you're a goddamn illiterate," she said, pulling him close by the collar of his faded shirt, leaning into his startled kiss. She held his rough head between her unlined palms and rocked forward, her hair dancing around them. On her tongue he could taste
yes to all the questions he hadn't yet dared to ask. She was light and bright and golden in his arms.

He doesn't want to think about how many May Days he's rung in without her, how many more there will be before he's earned the right to go home and lay his head on her breast.

He hears the alarm clock go off in the main room, soft like it's been muffled under sheets and a blanket. It looks like it's still dark, though, so he's not sure why Dean is padding quietly toward the bedroom. The door swings open silently and Dean meets his eyes, then moves to the other side of the bed. "Sammy," he says, crooning it like a lullaby, "Sammy."

"Mmmm?" Sammy turns onto his back, snuggling into Dean's hand, cupping his shoulder, sliding to his neck.

"Midnight," Dean whispers through a smile. "Happy birthday, Sammy."

Sammy still hasn't opened his eyes but his lips are curved like he's warm and safe. "Dean," he mumbles, and John's heart tightens as he realizes he wouldn't have remembered in time that this is Sammy's day, not just an afterthought to Mary's.

He looks to Dean, whose hand is still on Sammy's warm skin, and reaches his own hand out tentatively. His heavy fingers get lost in his baby boy's messy hair. "Happy birthday, son," he says softly and Sammy's eyes fly open. He pulls him into his arms and drops a kiss on the top of his head. In the near dark, his eyes meet Dean's once more with a soft gleam, and after Sammy's arm comes up to wrap around him, Dean leaves them alone in the quiet night.

Okay, I got this HUGE lump in my throat, because it's when things were still good, before the strife started to mount up, and John for once listened to Dean, and Sam was sweet, and Dean -- oh DEAN.

I got a leak now.

Thank you for this, honey. It is the bestest birthday gift ever.

You inspire me.

Happy birthday, darling.

(Deleted comment)
Ha! You don't even want to know how many times I checked "The Benders" for verification of Sam's birthday.

Aww, Dean!

Oh, honey, this is gorgeous. I love John here, and oh, my god, Dean.

"Mmmm?" Sammy turns onto his back, snuggling into Dean's hand, cupping his shoulder, sliding to his neck.

"Midnight," Dean whispers through a smile. "Happy birthday, Sammy."


*in a little puddle on the floor*

My best friend and I still wait up for midnight to call each other with birthday wishes.

Dean is love.

He doesn't want to think about how many May Days he's rung in without her, how many more there will be before he's earned the right to go home and lay his head on her breast.

I love this line so much I wish I lived in Utah. Good stuff, baby.

Oh, thank you! I've been wanting to write John-fic for some time now, and Em's interest in him gave me the perfect excuse.

That was just lovely; such a beautiful, quietly affecting little story.

Thank you so much! I'm glad it worked for you!

Awwwww.

He doesn't want to think about how many May Days he's rung in without her, how many more there will be before he's earned the right to go home and lay his head on her breast.

This line killed me!

Very nicely done!

Thank you very much for the kind words!

John has no doubt that this is an act for his benefit; there's a loose spring somewhere in the hellish bowels of that mattress. He's not sure whether he should let Dean get away with lying to him

I loved Dean taking the bad matress so his father can get rest on a good one.

He tries not to imagine how far behind Sammy's leaving him. He starts to shift but his back seizes up until he settles into the same position once more, flat and staring up at the ceiling. After all these years it still takes effort not to let the sight of a ceiling bother him

Wonderful John POV, just heartbreaking.

This is really beautiful. :)


Oh, DEAN! I have to admit, I love the image of him fake-snoring so his dad will finally go take the good bed.

So glad the John POV worked for you - I haven't written John before, and I'd like to do more of it.

Thanks, baby!

Just beautiful. Wow.

His boy's got perfect aim.

And how fitting that John says this in his mind, but has probably never said it for Dean to hear.

Your characterizations just make me wiggle with glee!

Your comments make me wiggle right back!

I'm so glad you liked this!

Today, of all days, he cannot deny Mary's boy, so when Dean stabs one finger at the bedroom door and says "Go," he does as he's told. I love that John listens to Dean. I do think John values Dean's opinion and listens, as much as he plays the Dad card a lot.

& how cute is Dean that he sets his alarm so that he can wish Sam happy birthday as soon as possible. Also, Dude, I 'see my birthday in' at midnight every year! You have to see your birthday in.

Lovely of course.

I really love that John listens to Dean, even if he has to explain it to himself as listening to Mary.

Dean loves his boy.

And dude, that icon is GORGEOUS!

He's not sure whether he should let Dean get away with lying to him, but lets it go with a laugh when Dean pretends to snore, snorting and wheezing outrageously.

Your Dean charmed me endlessly. I loved this!

Sammy is one long, dark, insistent line against the overbleached sheets, his hair fanned out sweetly over the pillow like a girl's. John looks down at his baby boy, mouth relaxed and open, one arm tucked awkwardly under his chest.

Again, I love this description. Fantastic and so real, it reads like a picture.

After all these years it still takes effort not to let the sight of a ceiling bother him, and the struggle tenses his body, fighting against his mind's desire for sleep.

and

He doesn't want to think about how many May Days he's rung in without her, how many more there will be before he's earned the right to go home and lay his head on her breast.

...just tore my heart right the hell out. I'm just left sitting here, clutching at the hole in my chest. How very beautiful and all-too-painfully right.

Brava.

Dean's snoring is one of my very favorite bits, so I'm glad it clicked for someone else! And thank you for phrasing it that way. Hmm, "my Dean" has an awfully nice ring to it.

Sammy asleep must be an adorable picture.

And John carries his sorrow so matter-of-factly that it hurts to think about.

Thank you!

I just love *all* of them so much in this story! It's very sweet and touching and yet also in-character. Lovely!

This:

"You're a goddamn hippie," he growled, plucking the wreath off with a snap of the wrist.

made me laugh because I could really hear happier-younger-John saying that, teasing her.

Oh, wow, thank you!

And I'm so glad you picked out John's line, because it just wouldn't leave my head but I didn't think it worked the way I wrote it. Thanks!

I adore this. Big time.

kunju, just imagine a pillow fight with Winchesters. Then, wow, perfect aim. <3

Awww, thanks!

Stop trying to foist your plot-yaks on me, Barb! No pillow-fighting for me - I have to finish my Stanford Sam epic and then write my two Back-to-School fics!

Aww, that is just gorgeous.

there cannot be enough sweet john-sam moment, even ones with a little bit of bittersweetness to them. *memories omg*

Oh, thank you so much! (Thank Em for being so intrigued by John and his relationships with his boys.)

Thank you very much! Glad to see you around!

?

Log in

No account? Create an account