This Will Never Happen Again [John/Kate]
May. 18th, 2009 02:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hysteriaTitle: This Will Never Happen Again
Author:hysteria
Rating: R
Pairing: John/Kate Milligan, Dean Winchester
Word Count: 1,312
Warnings: Angst-filled Angst, AU-ish
Summary: When he looks at her, he sees Mary-- and that’s all he needs.
A/N: Coda 4.19 ‘Jumping the Shark’, Un-beta'd
Disclaimer: Don’t own Supernatural, or the characters involved.
The first time he sees her there’s a possibility of a werewolf in town, mutilated victims being found without their hearts. He’s asking around for information about the latest victim when she passes by him on the street, he looks up and see’s blonde and can’t help it when his lips part in memory, wanting to call to a woman he knows isn’t there. She smiled at him in passing, her eyes moving away form just as quickly as they’d fallen on him; it takes the polite cough of his witness for him to look away. He reminds himself that Sam and Dean are twenty miles away in a hotel, so this job needed to be over fast.
So when he’s at the bar that night, he’s still staring at his phone as if anticipating a call from Dean-- something gone wrong, not that it ever does. He sees her again and watches her walk across the room, her hips swinging just like Mary’s used to; her hair wavy and long-- bright smile plastered on her face.
“Kate!” a man stood up from the table and motioned her over, and he repeated the same steps as earlier in the morning; she wasn’t Mary, Sam and Dean couldn’t wait forever. He rose from his seat and brushed past her towards the door, not bothering to see if she’d noticed him again.
He’s pointing the gun at the thing growling at him and he’s suddenly wondering why he didn’t stop to ask her name, and when he pulled the trigger he wasn’t really sure why he cared. He’s packing up his things to leave when she’s exiting the bar, man she’d met with earlier apparently long gone; cheeks lit up in light blush from a few too many-- and now he’s wondering why he shouldn’t say hello.
She’s already a couple feet away from him by the time he’s put all of his guns away and secured his trunk, “I need a ride,” she says. “You sure?” he can’t help but ask.
“I need a ride,” she says and this time her lips seal the deal, it’s all tongue and teeth but he can’t bring himself to care because she even tastes like Mary, and he can’t get enough. By the time they reach the hotel room he’s been staying at her pants are already on the floor board and her hand is working it’s way into his jeans. He’s pretty sure he’s whispered Mary at least four time since they’ve started and she doesn’t look at all upset when she pulls herself into his lap and grinds down onto him. “Still need that ride,” and she's moaning using her small hands that feel just like Mary’s to get him to ride up into her; he knows he should be thinking about the boys, but for some reason he can’t seem to remember why.
When he wakes up the next morning in the motel bed, he can hear the banging on the other side-- screaming about how he was supposed to be out two hours ago, and that he owes the fat hag even more money. The girl that looks and smells and tastes just like Mary is still passed out besides him; and he’s feigning distant memories of dirty talk and rough sex in the front seat of the Impala. By the time he’s dressed and has taken care of the money situation he’s leaving a few bills on the night stand for her to catch a cab-- or something when she wakes up, her clothes still all over the floor. Because, even if he could remember her name, he never did give her that ride. Because he knows that this will never happen again.
----
The second time he comes back he isn‘t even sure this is an actual job, isn‘t even sure he didn‘t know that when he decided to come take a look. When they’re alone he can’t keep his hands to himself, and when they’re not he can’t stop himself from ignoring her. He’s following a loose trail of omens and he can’t seem to remember why he though this was ever a good idea.
She watches him walk across the Post Office floor as he questions a clerk about the death of his fathers cattle; he can hear the boy explain about how he’s already told the local sheriff and how he doesn’t understand why a Fed cares, but John isn’t listening anymore. When she exits, he follows and everything he was searching for becomes miniscule in comparison to just being around her again. He’s only been there six hours and he’s already slept with her twice, first in the bathroom of the bar where he first saw her; and then in the front seat of the Impala-- for old times sake.
He leaves before he ever find what he’s looking for and tells her that this will never happen again, she smiles and kisses him goodbye and he can’t seem to think of a good reason for denying himself this.
----
The third time he comes back it’s all different, there’s something he’s isn’t quite sure he should be hunting and she’s still here and he isn’t quite sure he should still be around her. This one isn’t as simple as the rest of the hunts, missing corpses isn’t exactly something that can be explain away as kidnapping or murder. He helps the town out by dropping clues for a local deputy-- soon to be local hero. When he kills the ghoul he can’t help but think of Sam and Dean, and wonder how they’re doing in school, if they’re even going. By the time he’s reloaded the shotgun just to be safe, he can’t remember why he’d even left them there.
This time when they sleep together it’s nice and slow, and he doesn’t say Mary this time, not even once. She’s cut her hair and her features have hardened since the last time he saw her, she looks tired, worn down; and he can’t help but wonder why. As he’s peeling off the remainder of her clothes he can still smell Mary, lilacs and spice; and she still sounds like Mary too-- the way her voice gets higher when she’s nervous, or excited.
She’s on top of him again and he’s pushing up into her, whispering Kate as he feigns an orgasm; wanting this time to last. He rolls them over and he’s towering over her, just like he used to with Mary; her soft hands touching his bare chest and his rough fingers clutching at her hips. “Kate,” and he’s grinding down onto her, like he’s afraid he’s going to lose her if he lets go. When he comes it’s in a rush, and he feels like it’s the first time since Mary died that he’s satisfied; because she’s riding it out with him and it’s his name on her lips this time. He’s leaning down to nip at her neck when he hears his phone ring, and he knows it has to be Dean because it’s 2:30 a.m. and he’s the only one who would call.
‘We’re out of money,’ and he can tell this was Dean’s last resort because he hates not being able to help himself, and then theres ‘I think Sammy might be sick.’ and suddenly John wonders what he’s even doing here, in Kate’s bed. He doesn’t give her an explanation, she only hears what he tells Dean-- that he’ll be back within the next four hours, and she knows he’s leaving. He doesn’t look at her when he’s finished dressing, doesn’t offer her anything comforting-- just hands her a note with a phone number scratched on it.
He tells her that this will never happen again, and for some reason he can’t bring himself to even buy his own lies.
Author:
hysteriaRating: R
Pairing: John/Kate Milligan, Dean Winchester
Word Count: 1,312
Warnings: Angst-filled Angst, AU-ish
Summary: When he looks at her, he sees Mary-- and that’s all he needs.
A/N: Coda 4.19 ‘Jumping the Shark’, Un-beta'd
Disclaimer: Don’t own Supernatural, or the characters involved.
The first time he sees her there’s a possibility of a werewolf in town, mutilated victims being found without their hearts. He’s asking around for information about the latest victim when she passes by him on the street, he looks up and see’s blonde and can’t help it when his lips part in memory, wanting to call to a woman he knows isn’t there. She smiled at him in passing, her eyes moving away form just as quickly as they’d fallen on him; it takes the polite cough of his witness for him to look away. He reminds himself that Sam and Dean are twenty miles away in a hotel, so this job needed to be over fast.
So when he’s at the bar that night, he’s still staring at his phone as if anticipating a call from Dean-- something gone wrong, not that it ever does. He sees her again and watches her walk across the room, her hips swinging just like Mary’s used to; her hair wavy and long-- bright smile plastered on her face.
“Kate!” a man stood up from the table and motioned her over, and he repeated the same steps as earlier in the morning; she wasn’t Mary, Sam and Dean couldn’t wait forever. He rose from his seat and brushed past her towards the door, not bothering to see if she’d noticed him again.
He’s pointing the gun at the thing growling at him and he’s suddenly wondering why he didn’t stop to ask her name, and when he pulled the trigger he wasn’t really sure why he cared. He’s packing up his things to leave when she’s exiting the bar, man she’d met with earlier apparently long gone; cheeks lit up in light blush from a few too many-- and now he’s wondering why he shouldn’t say hello.
She’s already a couple feet away from him by the time he’s put all of his guns away and secured his trunk, “I need a ride,” she says. “You sure?” he can’t help but ask.
“I need a ride,” she says and this time her lips seal the deal, it’s all tongue and teeth but he can’t bring himself to care because she even tastes like Mary, and he can’t get enough. By the time they reach the hotel room he’s been staying at her pants are already on the floor board and her hand is working it’s way into his jeans. He’s pretty sure he’s whispered Mary at least four time since they’ve started and she doesn’t look at all upset when she pulls herself into his lap and grinds down onto him. “Still need that ride,” and she's moaning using her small hands that feel just like Mary’s to get him to ride up into her; he knows he should be thinking about the boys, but for some reason he can’t seem to remember why.
When he wakes up the next morning in the motel bed, he can hear the banging on the other side-- screaming about how he was supposed to be out two hours ago, and that he owes the fat hag even more money. The girl that looks and smells and tastes just like Mary is still passed out besides him; and he’s feigning distant memories of dirty talk and rough sex in the front seat of the Impala. By the time he’s dressed and has taken care of the money situation he’s leaving a few bills on the night stand for her to catch a cab-- or something when she wakes up, her clothes still all over the floor. Because, even if he could remember her name, he never did give her that ride. Because he knows that this will never happen again.
----
The second time he comes back he isn‘t even sure this is an actual job, isn‘t even sure he didn‘t know that when he decided to come take a look. When they’re alone he can’t keep his hands to himself, and when they’re not he can’t stop himself from ignoring her. He’s following a loose trail of omens and he can’t seem to remember why he though this was ever a good idea.
She watches him walk across the Post Office floor as he questions a clerk about the death of his fathers cattle; he can hear the boy explain about how he’s already told the local sheriff and how he doesn’t understand why a Fed cares, but John isn’t listening anymore. When she exits, he follows and everything he was searching for becomes miniscule in comparison to just being around her again. He’s only been there six hours and he’s already slept with her twice, first in the bathroom of the bar where he first saw her; and then in the front seat of the Impala-- for old times sake.
He leaves before he ever find what he’s looking for and tells her that this will never happen again, she smiles and kisses him goodbye and he can’t seem to think of a good reason for denying himself this.
----
The third time he comes back it’s all different, there’s something he’s isn’t quite sure he should be hunting and she’s still here and he isn’t quite sure he should still be around her. This one isn’t as simple as the rest of the hunts, missing corpses isn’t exactly something that can be explain away as kidnapping or murder. He helps the town out by dropping clues for a local deputy-- soon to be local hero. When he kills the ghoul he can’t help but think of Sam and Dean, and wonder how they’re doing in school, if they’re even going. By the time he’s reloaded the shotgun just to be safe, he can’t remember why he’d even left them there.
This time when they sleep together it’s nice and slow, and he doesn’t say Mary this time, not even once. She’s cut her hair and her features have hardened since the last time he saw her, she looks tired, worn down; and he can’t help but wonder why. As he’s peeling off the remainder of her clothes he can still smell Mary, lilacs and spice; and she still sounds like Mary too-- the way her voice gets higher when she’s nervous, or excited.
She’s on top of him again and he’s pushing up into her, whispering Kate as he feigns an orgasm; wanting this time to last. He rolls them over and he’s towering over her, just like he used to with Mary; her soft hands touching his bare chest and his rough fingers clutching at her hips. “Kate,” and he’s grinding down onto her, like he’s afraid he’s going to lose her if he lets go. When he comes it’s in a rush, and he feels like it’s the first time since Mary died that he’s satisfied; because she’s riding it out with him and it’s his name on her lips this time. He’s leaning down to nip at her neck when he hears his phone ring, and he knows it has to be Dean because it’s 2:30 a.m. and he’s the only one who would call.
‘We’re out of money,’ and he can tell this was Dean’s last resort because he hates not being able to help himself, and then theres ‘I think Sammy might be sick.’ and suddenly John wonders what he’s even doing here, in Kate’s bed. He doesn’t give her an explanation, she only hears what he tells Dean-- that he’ll be back within the next four hours, and she knows he’s leaving. He doesn’t look at her when he’s finished dressing, doesn’t offer her anything comforting-- just hands her a note with a phone number scratched on it.
He tells her that this will never happen again, and for some reason he can’t bring himself to even buy his own lies.
