dear_mun | momchester finally made a bb account

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momchester finally made a bb account

You know they're just icons, right? [Mary brushes her hair out of her eyes and stares unimpressed into the... wherever it is she's looking.] There's really no need to obsess.

[She rolls her eyes and scoffs in an... incredibly teenage way.]

I don't even know why you made this account. It's not like there's a point. [squaring her shoulders determinedly, self-consciously aware that she looks a little silly.] My life will be way too boring for you to write anything about and that's just fine with me. Got it?

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Oh.

[Her face softens instantly into concern and sympathy; she lightly hops down from the counter and crosses the room, pulling up a chair nearish him.]

I'm sorry. [A glance at the wedding ring.] How long ago?

[Oh god, he's not sure he can deal with her being this close. He sure as hell doesn't want her to be up on that counter clear across the room , though.

John settles on staying where he is, but angling his body away from his. Just in case.]

It was about twenty years ago. For me, anyway.

[God, this is surreal.]

Oh.

[She looks down at the ring again. Her voice is soft.]

I can't imagine how much you miss her.

[Since he's still wearing the ring.]

It's hard. She, uh...[] She was everything, you know?

It's like losing a limb, almost. It feels like she's there for a second, and when it hits that she isn't...

[He looks up from his hand into her eyes. Jesus, she's beautiful.]

[Her eyes are soft and sad. She reaches over, rests a hand on the table in a gesture of support (but doesn't touch him, since he clearly isn't up for that and yeah weird).]

I know kind of how that feels. I keep looking up and...

[Shaking her head and blinking back the tears that threaten to well up, eyes shining. Time for a moment of real vulnerability, where it's clear just how young she is.]

Does it get easier?

[She doesn't mean to ask, but it just comes out.]

[He casts a wary glance at her hand. He has to stop himself from reaching out and taking it.]

Never. Sometimes you can push it to the back of your mind, but it always hurts.

[And then, though he thinks he knows the answer:]

Who did it kill?

[Mary licks her lips absently, blinks, looks away with a small, pained exhale. That's not the answer she wanted to hear, but it's no surprise.

She sighs tensely, blinking rapidly. Talking about it, even thinking about it hurts.]

My parents, for starters.

[...Smooth, Mary. Smooth.]

[He lets himself get distracted by that tongue, but he's quickly brought back to earth by her words. He was right, then, but what the fuck else could he do?]

For starters? Did it hurt you?

[Protective husband mode engage!]

[Snort.] It's a demon, what else would it do?

[But the damage was emotional, not physical.]

It's that... it got away. Who knows how many people that thing is still hurting, you know?

[Her voice trembling is just your imagination. Srsly.]

[He places a hand on hers (so soft...), in what he hopes is an empathetic and comforting gesture. He's a little out of practice, being the sympathetic cop or priest or work friend, but with her it's easier. Not an act in any case.

Though if he were to say it was 100% just to comfort her, he'd be lying through his teeth.]

He'll get what's coming to him in the end, don't worry.

[It is comforting, in its own way. She's starting to see that he wasn't being creepy before- obviously he's from fairly far in his future, and obviously he knows her in a way remarkable enough that he feels for her loss here. It's sweet, coming from a man - a hunter - as rough as him, since she can tell it isn't complete bull.]

How do you- wait. [She sits up a little straighter, eyes intent.] Is that what happens? In the future, in your time, is he dead? Did you get him?

I didn't get him, [Your little boy did, Mary. He killed the demon that killed your mom and dad and husband (twice), and most importantly, you. You'd be proud, or at least John hopes.] but yeah. He's dead.

[She nods, swallowing thickly and looking no happier to hear it. Mary just grits her teeth and looks down, biting hard on her lip.]

Good. I'm glad.

[Wanting revenge is a sick, corrosive feeling, one she hates. She shakes her head as if shaking the cobwebs out and looks up, putting on her Casual Face.]

Glad that S.O.B. can't hurt anybody anymore.

[She pats his hand then pulls away, running her hands through her hair and pulling herself together.]

Are you going to at least rinse that cut, or are you just trusting that my knife is clean?

You and me both.

[He groans a little at the loss of contact. He was hoping for at least a few more minutes, just to cherish the feel of her skin on his...

No man, play it cool. Pretend like this girl isn't throwing you for every loop ever conceived of.]

This thing? It's a papercut. [He snorts. Oh, she is green, isn't she?] If I can leave stab wounds alone, this'll do shit.

It's a papercut from a knife that's been God knows where.

[Don't even do the quiet-down-little-girl act on her, Bobby Van Halen, she will shut you the fuck down.

Especially since you set off her bossy side. Way to be.]

If you haven't ended up in the hospital from an infection yet, that's just luck, nothing more. How do you know where my knife's been recently? I could be anybody, I could be gross or never clean it.

Are you always this bossy?

[John grins a little. She is, of course. He remembers her getting onto him all the damn time for not washing his hands, or leaving underwear on the floor, or leaving the trash out, or something. Ir was a little annoying at times, but now it's almost endearing.]

[For some reason his grin coaxes a brilliant smile from her. She hardly knows why, but there's something incredibly familiar about it, endearing, and she gets the strongest sense of deja-vu. It makes her bolder than she should be, and sassier than she thought she could do given the circumstances.]

Only when I'm right.

[Standing up now and gesturing. Get up, big guy. Come on.]

[That smile, Christ. When was the last time he saw it? Before he left work that day? At dinner? At any rate, it's been too damn long and his heart aches a little at its brilliance.

John returns the smile with a growing grin, and he can slowly feel himself slipping back into that old, cocky role he tended to play when she got like this. It's nice, like a worn old pair of jeans, comfortable and familiar.]

I guess that means you think you're always right?

[He has absolutely no problem following her order. Please, lead the way Mary.]

[She backs up, beckoning him over to a sink.]

What makes you think I'm always like this?

[He walks over to the sink, yanking up the sleeve of his horrifically injured arm. Leaning on the counter, he presents his arm with a "do your worst" look.]

I do know you. I could be cheating. Or maybe I'm just a good judge of character.

[She gives him a Look at that. Yanking up your sleeve, really? You could rinse it for five seconds and avoid an infection.

But fine. Since he's going to make it into a Thing, she can play that game.]

If you know my dad, I wouldn't say that.

[Bless him and all that, but man. The guy could be unpleasant. She draws near and grabs the nearest piece of cloth - a dishrag - and runs it under water with one hand, without looking away.]

I expected you to complain a lot more. [Turning off the sink one-handed and picking up the rag.] You know. Hunters.

[As she draws near it occurs to her to wonder oh god is she flirting with a man her father's age? What on Earth? But the more she looks at him, the more that sense of familiarity grows, until she finds herself studying him with every passing glance and every word from his mouth.]

Hey, I didn't choose to know your dad. He's a jackass, probably feels the same about me.

[He shrugs. He won't apologize when it's the truth,]

Well? Are you going to nurse me or not?

[All the smirking. John's so distracted by her (she's close enough to smell her, and it's like he's been transported back to high school for a second), that he doesn't notice her looking and listening closer.]

Hey!

[That's only okay when Mary says it. Jeez.

But the slight to her father aside, she has to fight a twitching smile at his jerkass remark and, for a second, she forgets everything she's curious about. She forgets it all in his smile, for just a second.

The moment passes, and she wonders who he is. It's on the tip of her tongue, really.]

Listen, you, I'm just trying to keep you from getting tetanus or something. Didn't anyone ever tell you basic things about weapons safety?

[She takes his hand unnecessarily, holding it in place gently, and dabs once at the cut just to be a brat. Then she spots something- a very familiar scar on his arm.

Her heart stops.]

It's true, and you know it. He's an unfriendly S.O.B., and that's being nice. But I guess he's got a reason.

[It really does explain a lot in retrospect, that the Campbells were hunters. Samuel was always so agitated when John had to come over, probably scared he's see something he had no business seeing. Probably thought John couldn't protect his daughter, either.

He wonders what Samuel would say if he saw John today. Would he be impressed, or just as mad for screwing over his grandkids? Either way, John would be lying if he said rubbing his hunting successes in his father-in-law's face wouldn't be awesome.]

[Yeah, whatever the hell you just said? Mary didn't hear a word.

She's dropped the rag and is tracing the scar on his arm, the one John brought back from Vietnam. The one she touched gently sometimes, used to kiss when he worried that she'd have some stupid problem with what the war did to him. Staring. Her heart pounding in her throat, roaring in her ears as every piece clicks into place. It's his left hand that she's holding. She can feel the cold metal of his wedding ring on her palm.

Her voice comes out as a roughed whisper.]

Oh my god. [She forces herself to look up, stunned beyond words. Horrified, really, and grieved that this happened to John.] John.

momchester finally made a bb account

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