Mini NoNoWriMo -- 417 words
Nov. 29th, 2006 01:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vanillafluffyWhen they get back to Nancy's house out in the boondocks, it's been dark for a while, and fireflies are little blips of neon streaking around the yard. She blinks awake and looks at John, and for just a moment, he sees sadness on her face. Then she rubs her eyes with the heels of her hands, and her familiar crooked-toothed smile meets him, and he must've imagined that flicker of sorrow.
He still feels guilty for using her; he almost doesn't go in. Thinks about just saying good night and hitting the road, and maybe, this time, not coming back.
Nancy climbs out of the Impala, but doesn't close her door. Instead, she walks around to his side, headlights washing out the color in her clothing so that her sun-pinked arms are the brightest things about her.
Leaning in through his window, Nancy presses her mouth against his, the taste of chocolate lingering from the muffins. She rests her forearms on the door. In the glow of the dome light, he can see that her nose is going to peel in a few days.
"Y'know, John, all the time you've been coming around, I don't think you've ever asked for something you wanted. You'd rather do without than admit you need anything. Now, me...look, I'm a bossy bitch, and I know it." Her fingertips trace the crease in his cheeks, slinding down until her knuckles scrape lightly against the stubble on his jaw.
John opens his mouth to object. Nancy? She's real easy to get on with, and John knows damn well he's not.
"In all the time you've known me, John Winchester, have I ever had any trouble with plain-speaking about what I want or don't want?" Her voice takes on a sing-song quality, as she repeats some of the things she's told him over the years. "Rinse your whiskers out of the sink, tell me when you use the last of the milk, put down newspapers if you're gonna clean those damn guns on my kitchen table...." Another kiss, this one nibbling at his lower lip. "You think I won't tell you if you're crossing a line?"
"I'm sorry," he says hoarsely, the hardest words he knows in English or Latin.
"Just don't make a habit of it," she says in his ear, a sharp canine worrying his earlobe. "Now, come to bed and let me remind you why you keep coming back...and remind me why I let you."
He still feels guilty for using her; he almost doesn't go in. Thinks about just saying good night and hitting the road, and maybe, this time, not coming back.
Nancy climbs out of the Impala, but doesn't close her door. Instead, she walks around to his side, headlights washing out the color in her clothing so that her sun-pinked arms are the brightest things about her.
Leaning in through his window, Nancy presses her mouth against his, the taste of chocolate lingering from the muffins. She rests her forearms on the door. In the glow of the dome light, he can see that her nose is going to peel in a few days.
"Y'know, John, all the time you've been coming around, I don't think you've ever asked for something you wanted. You'd rather do without than admit you need anything. Now, me...look, I'm a bossy bitch, and I know it." Her fingertips trace the crease in his cheeks, slinding down until her knuckles scrape lightly against the stubble on his jaw.
John opens his mouth to object. Nancy? She's real easy to get on with, and John knows damn well he's not.
"In all the time you've known me, John Winchester, have I ever had any trouble with plain-speaking about what I want or don't want?" Her voice takes on a sing-song quality, as she repeats some of the things she's told him over the years. "Rinse your whiskers out of the sink, tell me when you use the last of the milk, put down newspapers if you're gonna clean those damn guns on my kitchen table...." Another kiss, this one nibbling at his lower lip. "You think I won't tell you if you're crossing a line?"
"I'm sorry," he says hoarsely, the hardest words he knows in English or Latin.
"Just don't make a habit of it," she says in his ear, a sharp canine worrying his earlobe. "Now, come to bed and let me remind you why you keep coming back...and remind me why I let you."