Wait a minute mister, I didn't even kiss her

[failedparenting]

Who: John and Jesse. Sam can come too.
When: Night of March 28
Where: Merlotte's
Summary: John is going through manopause. Jesse isn't the brightest crayon in the box
Warning: Facepunching, Winchesters.


[John's started to notice that his life falls apart in waves. It's something about this place, has to be, because this is the third or fourth time everything's gone to shit at once. The past week alone's been hell. Bobby up and disappeared, Dean started asking about Sam, and, oh yeah, the looming 53rd birthday and the fact that he should really be 58.

58. Christ. His dad was only 60 when he died.

And, of course, Mary again. Problems with Mary were a constant nowadays, but it's been worse this week. By all rights, she should be mad at him, but why the hell won't she let him make it up to her?

He stares down at his Jack, stilling it idly. He doesn't usually do Merlotte's (well, he never does Merlotte's) but tonight he's making an exception. It's a decent distraction from his normal haunts, the dark and dirty ones that would make even Ellen shake her head. Here, he doesn't feel like such a fuck-up, even though he still doesn't fit.

John moves to drain the rest of the glass, but it's all over his shirt before he can even get it to his lips. Some asshole slammed into him, spilling his drink and nearly knocking him on his ass. He turns, pissed but not furious, to face whatever drunk jackass did it.

Son of a bitch. This fucking kid.]

Comments

[failedparenting]

There you go, blaming again.

[Back of Jesse's head, meet brick wall.]

Cut the bullshit, I know what you meant. You want to fuck her, and you got cocky. At least own up to it.

[hostage]

[Okay, now he feels a little less guilty and a lot more pissed off.]

Christ! You know, screw you, man! If she's your wife, why the hell aren't you with her?! 'stead of out here kicking some guy's ass over nothing...

Raeg :c

[failedparenting]

Over nothing?!

[Suddenly, he sees red. Nothing?! Telling a man that he wants to fuck his wife, talking about her like she's just some piece of ass, that's nothing in his book?

The blinding anger morphs into something even worse. Deadlier, even. He goes icy and calm, though he doesn't release Jesse.]

Okay, I'm going to make this as simple as possible, since you clearly are't getting it: I won't hesitate to put you in a hospital if you touch- hell, if you so much as breathe on her. I will drag you out in the Darkness and let it take care of you.

And if I ever hear you talk about Mary like she's some sex toy again? [He swiftly rams his knee into the other man's groin.] You won't be needing that. Ever. Again.

Are we clear?

ow

[hostage]

[Whatever Jesse might've had to say in response to that gets lost in a howl of pain. Even with John holding him up, his knees give out and he tries to double over, red-faced and nauseated.]

he'll feel bad about that later

[failedparenting]

Good.

[John lets go, leaving Jesse to crumple or curl up at his leisure.]

Glad we had this talk.

he should

[hostage]

[And he does, for a good ten seconds or so, just rock back and forth in agony.

Then he launches suddenly into his counterattack, hurling his whole body forward to headbutt John in the ribs. Maybe to push him to the ground or something. He doesn't exactly have a plan.]

u-u

[failedparenting]

[Okay, well that catches him way off-guard. He wasn't even facing Jesse when the kid lunged, he'd already started back into the bar.

John quickly twists away from the attack, but he still gets clipped hard enough to get knocked off-balance. He stumbles a few steps before righting himself. His gists are up instantly, ready to defend himself if Jesse tires something again.]

[hostage]

[Jesse definitely isn't finished. He lunges again, though, knowing that fists won't cut it and he needs all of his weight to go up against John. His style is pure thrashing, a knee aimed for the ribs and an elbow for the throat in the hopes of a lucky hit.]

[failedparenting]

[That flailing knee definitely hits its mark, because of all the thing John was expecting? Not this.

It shocks and winds him a little, but he's got the sense to dodge the elbow. He throws a punch square in the jaw. He has to grapple with Jesse for a moment, but soon John's got him half twisted around, arms trapped behind his back.]

[shifting]

["Where's Jesse?"

"The new kid? He went out back with someone."

"Godammit, I need him to set up for the next show. Here, I'll be right back." Which is the last thing Sam said before he stalked across the floor in a huff, heading out the side door.

Only to see this unholy mess. He startles.] - Hey! [jumping forward, one handing going to John's shoulder with a suggestive push to let his employee go, the other tensing near his hip, hyper-aware of the weight of his gun hidden tucked into the back of his jeans, under his shirt.]

The fuck is this? Break it up!

[hostage]

This - asshole - jumped me, yo!

[Let it never be said that Jesse Pinkman is not a squealer. His face is a mess of spit and sweat and smeared blood now, good and swollen enough to help his case. But he's not about to leave it all up to the boss to rescue him. He sends a few kicks of his own at John while he's pinned.]

[failedparenting]

Motherfu-

[He pushes Jesse away immediately, .The little shit's heel caught a healing wound on his shin from some stupid Darkness outing, and ripped it clean open. At least that pain is distracting from the giant-ass bruise forming on his side.]

Nothing to worry about Sam. It's a...private dispute.

[shifting]

[what part of fucking break it up sounded like 'keep kicking' to you, Jesse? Sam snarls and hauls Jesse back by his shirt, keeping a firm grip on his collar like a puppy by the scruff of its neck. At least John's cooperating - he doesn't have the patience for this shit.]

I don't care what it is, it doesn't happen anywhere on or near my property, you understand me? And it sure as hell doesn't happen with one of my employees. Or one of my patrons. [shooting Jesse a glare too, lest he start feeling cocky.] Ya'll got a problem with each other, you can get it out in therapy on your own dime.

[hostage]

[Jesse stops kicking once John's off of him, and he especially gets still once Sam's got him by the collar. Doesn't stop him from growling, though.]

Yo, he dragged me out here, okay? I wasn't starting no fights on the job!

[failedparenting]

[He straightens up as well as he can, all calm and rational. This is his fault, he can admit it, but he's not going to look like some idiot itching for a fight.]

There wouldn't've been a fight if you hadn't run your mouth about my wife, kid.

[See how rational and cooperative he's being Sam?]

[shifting]

[to John now] I don't care what he said. When you've got a problem with one of my people, you come to me about it. I'll handle it. That's what I'm here for.

Jesse, you get back inside and set up for the next band. [letting go of him, keeping eye contact with John]

I'm gonna cover your tab tonight, John. And I'll call a cab for you if you need one. But I think you ought to head home tonight.

[hostage]

[Jesse, wisely, doesn't say a word as he heads to the door. But his jerks his chin up and sends one last glare back to John.]

[failedparenting]

[He gives Jesse a warning "Remember what I said" sort of look, before turning back to Sam to explain.]

Look man, it's not something that happened here, and it's not something that's any of your business. You got me?

[While he speaks, he pulls out his wallet and grabs a few bills.]

Here, this should cover everything. The damage to your "employee", not my drink. I barely got a mouthful before he spilled it on me.

[shifting]

[Sam's jaw sets. He doesn't take the money.] What I "got" is you went outta your way to beat up a kid half your age. Over what - that's your business. But I'd better not see him comin' back here again with more bruises from you.

I'll set him straight if he was a dumbass tonight. And I'm sorry if he was. But I mean what I said; the people who work for me are my people.

[failedparenting]

You don't say than kind of shit about another man's wife, Sam. You probably would've decked him too.

[He's still stubbornly holding the cash out.]

[shifting]

Maybe. But it ain't the right thing to do.

...Keep your money, John. [he's turning back to go in.]

[failedparenting]

No, it was the right thing to do. Just not the smart thing.

[He stands stock still, holding out the few bills.]

Just take the fucking money.

[shifting]

Try to have a safe night, John. [and he goes inside.]

[failedparenting]

[Okay well fuck you too, man.

He throws the money on the ground before turning to leave. Yep, never going back here.

The music's shit, anyway.]