Confessions of a One-Track Mind

Got my Yuletide fic posted with hours to spare, go me! This proved to be a good thing, since Mb ended up kidnapping me to go drive around and look at the holiday displays in a couple McMansion subdivisions in Rockledge. (On the way, we stopped at a S'leven and I snagged the new Vanity Fair with Johnny Depp, because he's such eye candy.)

After our meanderings, she treated me to nosh at Applebee's---may I heartily recommend their wonton tacos? OMG, nomnomnom! Pork or chicken, either one...Mb thought they were a bit spicy, but I could have single-handedly gone through about four orders of them.

Then we cruised the nearby WalMart. I got a little gift for her SO (and I now know what I'm going to give her, but it's not a W*M thing), found out that that store is also out of space heaters, and looked the other way as Mb bought something I'd been lusting over. ("I see nussing!") Got enough bathroom tissue to last me into February. Discovered BC's middle child is working at that store on checkout. Small freakin' world, eh? Or at least, small freakin' town.

Came home, watched some of the eclipse. Too darn cold to stand there in my front yard THAT long, though. ("Yes, there's a shadow covering the full moon on the Solstice. Awesome. I'm going inside to thaw now....")

At this point, I have Christmas Eve scheduled to exchange gifts with Mb, then a get-together the afternoon/evening of Christmas Day (with a probable stop at J's for gift exchange either to or fro). Her gift arrived today, and it's in better condition that I expect for "slightly worn"---the dust jacket is still intact, which is a modest miracle unto itself, IMO.

Also, I was completely surprised and delighted by a treat on my f'list:. I got a story in response to a prompt ("John’s storage unit fascinates me...Sam and/or Dean go there for some reason and find something unexpected.") that I requested for an exchange last summer. It's mostly John, and NOT a-hole!John.

Cool Yule, y'all.

.

Title: Outside the Storm
Authored by: vanillafluffy
Pairing/spoilers: None, pre-series
Rating/Work-safeness: PG for language
Approximate word count: 6100
Betaed by: jdsgirlbev
Disclaimer [EDIT 6/29/09]: I solemnly swear that I had NOT read Life's That Way before I wrote this.
Summary: Written for cream_fudge, who said "I would love to read Wee!chesters. :D Sam and Dean have the flu, so John has to take care of his sick and snotty kiddies or something." I hope she likes this as much as I like my post-IaTL icon!

( My son's sick, and I've given him aspirin and an extra blanket, but he has a fever and he's shivering---I know you're not there to give medical advice, but I'm in the middle of nowhere and I don't have anyone else to ask. )


Feedback rocks my world.

Have I mentioned lately how much I abominate drunk!John Winchester fics? (karaokegal, for me, this is the equivalent of J/I in terms of being thoroughly unpalatable.) Okay, I know, I'm biased, but I'm a John!girl through and through, and my canon does NOT go that way. Anyway, I saw someone asking for tangental info on boozing (and other details) in a com, and from the background info given, it was pretty clear what fandom it was for. *headdesk*

In other news, the actor who will always be Mark Warner to me has a role as a sleazy DA in the new show Raising the Bar, just in case someone has a crush or wants to do a crossover of some kind.

Title: Kindergarten Isn't Ready for Dean Winchester
Authored by: vanillafluffy
Pairing: None. Features Dean, John.
Rating/Work-safeness: PG for language
Approximate word count: 500
Disclaimer: No rights belong to me (except for the right to free speech). Opinions expressed about the US Army do NOT reflect those of the author.
Summary: It's Dean's first day of kindergarten, and his teacher doesn't like his attitude. Or his dad's. Wee!Dean.


( Kindergarten Isn't Ready for Dean Winchester )

Feedback is shiny, y'all.

Title: Summertime Blues
Authored by: vanillafluffy
Pairing: John/OFC (Nancy McGill)
Rating/Work-safeness: PG
Approximate word count: 500
Disclaimer: I own only the neurons and electrons it was composed with.
Summary: jdsgirlbev posted a song prompt, and this is what it inspired. This is pre-series and ties in with The Girl from Cassadaga and The End of an Era.

( June 30, 1997 )


Previously in the John-Nancy 'verse....
http://vanillafluffy.livejournal.com/135447.html The Girl From Cassadaga
http://vanillafluffy.livejournal.com/138894.html The End of an Era


Comments are shiny.

Title: Peace In the Valley
Authored by: vanillafluffy
Pairing: None
Rating/Work-safeness: G
Approximate word count: 600
Disclaimer: All rights belong to individuals and corporate entities who are not me
Summary: Sam has a visitor one restless night. Spoilers through the end of Season 3.

(  'Dean, turn off the light!' he complains. Then he bolts upright in bed. 'Dean?!'  )

Comments are shiny!

">

( A very happy birthday )

Title: Seen and Unseen 4/?
Authored by: vanillafluffy
Pairing: None at the moment
Rating/Work-safeness: pg-13ish
Approximate word count: 2100
Disclaimer: I own only the neurons and electrons I composed this with
Summary: Dean doesn't trust their new acquaintance, but in his attempt to learn more, he may have given her the ammunition she needs to do something drastic.


( Seen -- Dean Winchester )

Previously in the John-Nancy 'verse....
http://vanillafluffy.livejournal.com/135447.html The Girl From Cassadaga
http://vanillafluffy.livejournal.com/138894.html The End of an Era
http://vanillafluffy.livejournal.com/140653.html What Fresh Hell
http://vanillafluffy.livejournal.com/146321.html Seen and Unseen, Part One
http://vanillafluffy.livejournal.com/146652.html Seen and Unseen, Part Two
http://vanillafluffy.livejournal.com/148999.html Seen and Unseen, Part Three

=====================

My apologies for having taken so long to update. Originally, I thought this was going to be a trilogy consisting of the previous three installments, but as I got into it, I realized otherwise.

Title: Seen and Unseen 2/?
Authored by: vanillafluffy
Pairing: None
Rating/Work-safeness: Safe
Approximate word count: 2300
Disclaimer: All rights belong to Eric Kripke and The Doors. Nancy McGill is mine.
Summary: Ellen makes a deal with a visitor to the Roadhouse.

( Seen and Unseen )
-------------

Previously in the John-Nancy 'verse....
http://vanillafluffy.livejournal.com/135447.html The Girl From Cassadaga
http://vanillafluffy.livejournal.com/138894.html The End of an Era
http://vanillafluffy.livejournal.com/140653.html What Fresh Hell
http://vanillafluffy.livejournal.com/146321.html Seen and Unseen, Part One

Feedback is love.

Title: Seen and Unseen 1/?
Authored by: vanillafluffy
Pairing: None
Rating/Work-safeness: Safe
Approximate word count: 2000
Disclaimer: All rights belong to Eric Kripke and The Doors. Nancy McGill is mine.
Summary: Bobby Singer has a visitor who wants to buy John's truck.


( Seen and Unseen )
-------------

Previously in the John-Nancy 'verse....
http://vanillafluffy.livejournal.com/135447.html
http://vanillafluffy.livejournal.com/138894.html
http://vanillafluffy.livejournal.com/140653.html

Feedback is love.

Title: What Fresh Hell
Author: vanillafluffy
Pairing: Mary/demon!John, Dean/Sam non-con, OFC/John
Rating/Work-safeness: R for torture and angst and a smidgin of language. Dark.
Approximate word count: 750
Disclaimer: If I owned John Winchester, I'd be too busy elsewhere to write fan-fic. Any recognizable characters belong to Kripke & Co. Nancy McGill is all mine.
Summary: This was prompted by a comment from starhawk2005 about how stubborn John was, and certain suggestive dialogue about John's fate in "Crossroad Blues". Spoilers only if you don't know what happened in "In My Time of Dying". Five agonies John endures.

( What Fresh Hell )

Title: The End of an Era
Author: vanillafluffy
Pairing: John/OFC
Rating/Work-safeness: PG-13
Approximate word count: 3000
Disclaimer: Sure, I own John Winchester. (And I can make you a really sweet deal on an antique bridge in Brooklyn, New York, too.) Nancy McGill (as introduced in The Girl From Cassadaga: http://vanillafluffy.livejournal.com/135447.html) is all mine.
Summary: After Sam leaves for Stanford, John seeks out an old friend for comfort and is faced with a difficult choice.

Originally written as a series of ficlets for mini-nanowrimo, parts of it were previously posted.

( The End of an Era )

Title: The Girl From Cassadaga
Author: vanillafluffy
Pairing: John/OFC
Rating/Work-safeness: PG-13
Approximate word count: 4500
Disclaimer: I don't own John Winchester, and I'm not making a profit from writing this. No harm, no foul, no lawyers, please!
Summary: Where does John go on his solo hunts? In 1994, a case takes him to Bike Week at Daytona, where he finds an ally. During subsequent visits (thru 2001), a relationship unfolds.

This was originally written as a series of ficlets for mini-nanowrimo: much of it was previously posted.

( The Girl from Cassadaga )
-------------
Also in the John-Nancy 'verse....
Pre-series:
http://vanillafluffy.livejournal.com/138894.html The End of an Era
Season Two, post-IMToD
http://vanillafluffy.livejournal.com/146321.html Seen and Unseen, Part One
http://vanillafluffy.livejournal.com/146652.html Seen and Unseen, Part Two
http://vanillafluffy.livejournal.com/148999.html Seen and Unseen, Part Three
http://vanillafluffy.livejournal.com/156387.html Seen and Unseen, Part Four
http://vanillafluffy.livejournal.com/162160.html Seen and Unseen, Part Five
http://vanillafluffy.livejournal.com/174208.html Seen and Unseen, Part Six
http://vanillafluffy.livejournal.com/178566.html Seen and Unseen, Part Seven (Conclusion)

This is the end of the beginning; I have a whole lot more story in mind for Nancy, but because of The Job That's Eating My Brain, it's going to be a while before that gets written. (And at some point, I'll go through and organize November's output coherently, but for now, WYSIWYG.)

==============

There's a fragrance of coffee in the air when he awakens. Faint dawn-pink light touches the lace curtains at the windows, and John lies there for a moment trying to collect his thoughts. For the first time in weeks, the Sam situation isn't gnawing at him; Nancy put her finger on it: he's safe enough at school. What's that old proverb? Something about if you raise your child right, he'll be alright even when he's grown...it isn't like Sam doesn't know what's out there. He'll be okay. John will drop periodically to make sure of it.

The Nancy situation, on the other hand...when he started coming around, it was easy enough to think of her as a convenient piece of ass. He'd gotten used to her knowing about random things he knew he'd never mentioned, like the time he'd overheard her telling Tallboy not to call him Johnny, because that had been Mary's pet name for him. (He'd never shared that with her, though.) When she'd taken it into her head to start ghost hunting, he'd tried to prepare her for what was out there, and she turned out to have a knack with incantations, even if she still can't manage to stick a knife into anything that isn't already on a chopping block.

Nancy a danger to him. He's been avoiding the knowledge for years now, but today he faces it squarely. This woman is his refuge. During the long drive down from Jim's, all he could think about was how Nancy would welcome him, because she has from the first day they met. This house is where he comes for sanctuary; it has an air of stability that no rented room can provide. It's the home he hasn't had in nearly twenty years, and it disturbs him that he can tell just by the angle of the light coming through the windows what time it is. He can't keep coming back here; it's not safe. One of two things will happen: he'll lose his edge and get killed, or he'll bring something bad with him one of these days and get her killed. Neither one of these is a valid option.

John gets dressed. It's like putting on armor. Downstairs in the kitchen, Nancy is presiding over the stove like a domestic goddess, wrapped in one of those little aprons that always distracts him. (He doesn't remember Mary ever wearing an apron, but Nancy seems to have an endless supply of them.) She's filling a plactic container, and puts it into a brown paper bag, which she offers to him.

"What's this?"

"Some food for the road, and there's a thermos of hot coffee in there." She looks up, her pale eyes confronting him without accusation. "It's a long way to California. You may as well have some decent food along the way."

"Thanks, Nancy," he says, and gives her a long hug. A last hug.

"I'll see you when I see you," she calls from the back porch as he's climbing into the Impala. "You're always welcome here."

When 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."

With the end of mini_nanowrimo in sight, I thought I ought to get back on track with my original project. More John and Nancy, this time from John's POV.

=========

Nancy is curled up in the passenger seat as John wheels the Impala home from Daytona Beach. They're cruising toward the sunset, vivid with shades of red-orange and plum. The light glints off her dusty hair, and John wonders, not for the first time, why he keeps coming back to this woman. She's not even a pale copy of Mary--- Mary could've been a model. Her smile lit up a room. Nancy reminds him of those photos of raw-boned farm women during the Depression; stoic, pragmatic...maybe that's why. He doesn't want or need a courtesan---a decent meal, a quick tumble, no strings attached, that's all he asks for, and that's what Nancy gives him.

It's been...he has to think about it...it was right after than business with the minor demon possessing a biker and infesting his pack with imps...a nasty piece of work, that was. How long ago? Seven, eight years? But it isn't like he hangs around her a lot, he hastens to reassure himself. Sometimes he hasn't seen her for a year or more, and the longest he's ever stayed was five days---and that was only because it was an easy drive from her place to Ocala, where he was hunting.

Two years ago, he took her along when he went after a poltergeist in Savannah, and she was a real help, even though she still hasn't learned to throw a knife properly. (She sticks it maybe once in five hundred times, and John can't understand it---her aim is dead-on, but her form is terrible.) Although Nancy's psychic abilities didn't sit too well with him in the beginning, she's been right more times than he can count, although a lot of the time, it's about little things---who's on the phone, how John tore his shirt. Or he'll walk in the door after a day on the road, without calling ahead, and the table will be set with two places and she's pulling a pot roast out of the oven.

Even today---John's grip tightens on the wheel. There's no excuse for the way he treated her when he arrived. Even when she's willing, a woman deserves more than being bent over and done like that...but not a word of protest from Nancy, just her own brand of practical sympathy: a crooked-toothed smile and something to eat. She's never made any demands on him, not beyond ordinary stuff like changing the oil in her old station wagon, or helping her paint the hallway that time. Nancy never clings, doesn't ask him where their relationship is going or any of that talk-show horseshit.

Maybe she already knows.

The floor lamp casts a 100-watt glow on the shirt Nancy is mending. Her needle eases through the worn plaid flannel, drawing together edges that have been rent and frayed. From time to time, she glances through to the dining room, where John stabs at the keyboard of her computer with two fingers, a scowl of concentration on his face. The machine is new since his last visit, and she's surprised that he seems to be more familiar with its use than she is.

He'd showed up on her doorstep late that afternoon, just in time to wash up for dinner. He had a story about another hunter he'd run into, some guy named Sweeney who had a knife that John had a feeling about. "Not that kind of feeling," he said when she'd teased him. "I recognized one of the symbols on the hilt."

Now, he's trying to translate the rest of the Japanese kanji from the knife's hilt from a rubbing he made on the back of a sales slip while Nancy does his laundry and sews up the evidence of her lover's hazardous profession. She's always thought that he comes here for quickies, although after five years of intermittent visits, she's equally inclined to wonder if it's the stolen domesticity he craves. She's careful not to cling or demand anything from him; she's patient, savoring what she does have instead of begging for more.

A sharp intake of breath from the other room---"That's it!" John says. He's studying the screen fixedly, and she settles the shirt on the ottoman and goes over to take a look. There's a scan of what looks to be an old sketch of a long knife. The background of the sketch is some kind of parchment that's yellowed with age. There's a heraldic device of some kind on the pommel of the weapon---a grotesque face of some kind---kanji engraved on one side of the hilt, and the piece of paper propped against the base of the monitor certainly looks like it's the same.

"Okay, so what is it?" she asks him. He's barely keeping some strong emotion in check, and there's goose-flesh on his forearms.

"That...is a sixteenth century Japanese knife." He sounds entirely too calm. "Do you know what that says?" John points to the characters on the hilt. He doesn't wait for her answer. "It names the sword-saint---literally considered to be a divinity when armed---who used this weapon to kill a number of demons who were terrorizing his province. It was forged to kill demons and consecrated for that purpose." He snarls at the monitor. "That stupid fucker doesn't know what he has---his father looted it from a dead Japanese during World War II. Steve thinks it's a goddamned samurai sword."

There's not much Nancy can say when he begins to swear inventively and at length, so she goes back into the living room and returns to her task. At least she can fix the shirt.