sirenspull_logs | You're my lady of the morning

Who: John Winchester and Mary Winchester
When: A few days ago, right before sirens
Where: John and Bigby's apartment
Summary: Mary had some revelations about love, and John gets caught up in the mushy, romantic path of it.
Warnings: Sex, love, and Winchesters.

[It's one of those nights where the drinking needs to start a little earlier than usual, because it's been one of those days when everything feels like shit. Work just isn't what it used to be, with the anti-newcomer sentiments getting stronger. People just don't want to come to him anymore, even people he's gotten to know and like. His paycheck's getting smaller, but god, he doesn't even want to think about that.

As his first glass of Jack slowly disappears, he finds himself missing the early days in the city, before everything really went to shit. He had Mary to come home to then, and an apartment that always smelled like food, and a little like cigarettes. It didn't last long at all, but it wonderful compared to what he has to deal with now.

Nowadays all he's got to look forward to is a man almost as grouchy as he is and an ever-present cloud of cigarette smoke.

He just can't have nice things at all, can he?]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Mary, on the other hand, has all kinds of things in her life. She has three cats, one of whom is her friend, and a child she's gradually starting to think of as her own. Two jobs, a hobby, lots of friends- all perfectly pretty dressing for a life near to empty. Because for all she has, she never quite stops feeling the loss of what she doesn't- John.

Sure, they got back together a while ago, but she's been slow, hesitant, and less than trusting, always keeping him almost at arm's length. All this time she's been waiting- for what, she isn't sure, but she knows she's been waiting, and growing gradually more disappointed with the passing of each day. Maybe her expectations have been too high, she doesn't know- the likeliest one who did, Sam, came back wiped clean, so she has nobody who has been here the whole time who isn't completely biased.

But then the other day happened, with Syrena the pretty mermaid asking her questions about love, marriage, and souls. Then Mary went down to the beach and braided her hair and told her about love. It was her own words, those pretty soliloquies about love being two people who can't live without each other, about finding someone you love enough to forgive for being flawed, that stayed with her even after the smell of sea air was gone.

It takes her a few days to work up the proper courage- a few days of total radio silence for John, uncharacteristic for her. Not even a stray text or anything. But on the third day, she knocks on his door, pulling her trenchcoat tighter. Mary's a little nervous- she's about to pull the cheesiest thing in all of romantic history, ever.]

[John could be arsed to move right about now. He's comfortable in his chair, and anyway, no one important could be over at this time of night. Not without notice, anyway.

At the second knock, though, he finally hauls his ass out the chair and answers the door. It's probably the old ladt next door again, bitching about the tv or-]

...Mary?

[What a weird but pleasant surprise.]

Edited 2012-09-12 04:11 (UTC)

John.

[She awkwardly adjusts her hands in her trenchcoat pockets. It's down over halfway to her knees, which is long enough to respectably cover a dress, so it isn't weird. She shrugs at him a little, hauling her purse farther up her shoulder breathlessly.]

Can I come in?

[What's probably weirder is that she's wearing fishnets and high heels with it, but honestly- a lot of people in the nicer districts dress like that, and it isn't cause for raising an eyebrow in this city. Mary is trusting John not to notice for at least a few minutes. The man has to be reminded about haircuts.]

[He's not really looking that far down anyway, so the fishnets (though he loves them on her) kind of go over his head.

But Mary showing up at his apartment at this hour is something to be curious about. He hasn't heard from her in days, seen her in more. Something's gotta be up.]

Uh, yeah. [He scootches to the left so she can come in.] Please. Can I get you something?

Yeah, sure.

[She comes in and drops her purse on the nearest flat surface, playing with a button on her coat awkwardly.]

Maybe a glass of wine?

[There's still an unopened bottle from the picnic, last she checked. Mary glances around the apartment.]

Where's Bigby?

Yeah, sure.

[He doesn't actually have any wine glasses, so she's going to need to make due with a regular glass. He quickly pours her some, and a little for himself, and returns to the living room.]

Here.

[It's cheap, but it doesn't suck. Well, it's tolerable.]

No clue. Not here, at least.

[She takes the glass, nodding noncommittally.]

Oh, okay.

[Perfect. Mary takes a deep drink before speaking again.]

So, I've been thinking... about what I said the day I came back.

[John sips his glass (warm, ugh) while she talks, trying not to look too hopeful.]

Yeah?

And... [She takes another deep drink. Liquid courage, take her home.

Well, liquid almost-courage. She keeps talking studiously into the wine glass.]

I meant it. I don't want to be old and regret not trying harder to make this work. If you can't read my mind and tell exactly what my deal is, that's our problem, not just yours.

[Mary finally looks up at him, a little torn and trying hard to bring her walls down for him. She's less guarded than he's seen her in a long, long time- months.]

I don't want to wake up one day and realize I let you slip away.

[As she gives her nervous, wine fueled speech, John finds himself getting more and more...distressed? Not exactly, but it does upset him to hear she's been worried over this. Jesus, why hasn't he been paying more attention to her?]

Oh, baby.

[John sets his glass on the kitchen bar and envelops her in a hug.]

Don't worry about that. I won't walk away, not again. [He presses a kiss into her hair.] This is gonna work.

[I won't walk away again. It's as much of a reassurance as she could ask for, as much as she could want- but part of her is still afraid. Still afraid that, despite his promises, she'd find a way to drive him away with her mistrust and her inconsistency and her wandering eye. She closes her eyes painfully at the kiss then looks at him, eyes searching.]

I have to be honest, John- there are still really serious things between us, and we have to talk about them.

[Lip bite.]

But I know now that a lot of this is me, and what a hard time I have trusting anybody now. You lost a lot of my trust a long time ago, and I haven't really been trying the way I should. It's hard. [Her voice cracks a little.] I have a hard time trusting anybody. Or letting anyone in.

[The person who got all the way in was Michael. Michael knew her deepest, darkest demons, and he knew what a burden she carries, and he's gone. He's gone, leaving her feeling so very alone in this world.]

[He just holds her while she talks, and the knot of stress in his chest keeps getting bigger and bigger. Why is she talking about this, right now of all times? She can't be breaking up with him, not with what she said before, but she sounds too unsure for him to be comfortable.

When she admits she doesn't trust him anymore, it's the last straw. That hurt too much to keep quiet.]

I'm sorry, Mary. I'm so sorry.

You're my lady of the morning

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject