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beansideTitle: We've Always Been
Rating: Adult
Pairing: John/Mary
Disclaimer: They're not mine, unfortunately. All characters used without permission. No money made, no lawsuit preferred.
A/N: For the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
spn_gleeweek Request Fest. For ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
poisontaster's request for "John/Mary. Not overly schmoopy or cutesy. But John/Mary being together and happy. Could be courtship fic or could be while they're married." Hopefully, this fits the bill okay.
“Oh, you gotta be kidding,” Mary groaned, banging her fist on the steering wheel. The car ignored her, steam pouring merrily from under the hood. “Dammit.”
She slid from the car, kicking the tire as she passed, and reached for the heavy hood. “Don’t-“ a sharp voice barked, a moment before she found herself airborne, a heavy hand around her waist, spinning her away from the car.
A thousand horror stories whipped through her head of random roadside maniacs, and she squirmed, pulling at the hand. Her heel impacted on his leg, and she felt a certain amount of satisfaction when he grunted in pain. “Settle down,” the voice muttered, sitting her back on her feet, and letting go.
She backed up, staring wildly at the stranger, a tall, dark haired man in a Marine uniform, his duffel slung over his shoulder. “What was that for?” she asked, hands on her hips.
He pointed at the car, where steaming water was pouring from something at the front. “Your radiator’s busted,” he explained. “I didn’t want you to get burned.”
Her cheeks colored, and she kicked herself mentally. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to-Did I hurt you?”
He smiled wryly, and Mary bit her lip. That was a smile to make a girl’s knees go weak. “I’ll live. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
She looked at the puddle again. “I think I prefer the scare to the alternative. Thank you.”
“My pleasure, ma’am.” He gave that devastating grin again. “I’m heading into town. Can I call a tow truck for you?”
She shrugged slightly, looking at the swiftly setting sun. “I—would you mind if I walk with you? I don’t like being out here at night.”
“Of course,” he said. “Though, unless it’s changed a lot in four years, Lawrence isn’t exactly the psychotic killer capital of the world.”
“I know,” she said, shrugging. “It just freaks me out.”
“Not a problem.” He shouldered his duffel bag again, and carefully wiped his hand on his pants before offering it to her. “John Winchester.”
She took it, felt his hand engulf hers. “Mary O’Donnell.”
“Pleasure’s all mine,” he said.
He had a nice voice, Mary decided. It went with the rest of him, really. “Are you just getting back into town?” she asked quietly.
“From Vietnam,” he said. “I decided not to re-up when my tour was done.”
“Good,” she said, voice fierce.
“Anti-war?” he asked softly, a little nervously.
“Very.” When he moved a little away from her, she shook her head. “Not like that. It’s not your fault.”
“Sorry,” he said, ducking his head. “The airport was a little dicey. I knew it wasn’t a popular war, but I hadn’t expected the anger. Hell, I didn’t like the war, either. Was just my job.” The sadness in his voice made her want to reach out, to smooth the frown from his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Mary said. “They don’t have any right to treat you like that.”
It wasn’t long before the lights of the all-night convenience store came into view. John paused outside for a moment. “Will you be okay?” he asked, eyeing the teenager behind the counter.
“I’ll be fine.” She reached over impulsively, and stood on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”
That smile bloomed again, and Mary felt something in her stomach twist a little. It felt kind of nice. “You’re welcome.” He started to turn away, then paused. “This is probably out of line, because no way someone like you doesn’t already have a boyfriend, but if not, would you maybe want to go out sometime?”
Mary smiled back, grabbing his hand and squeezing. “I don’t have one, and I’d love to go out.” She opened her purse and pulled out a pen and paper. “Here. Call me.”
He grinned again, taking the paper, and giving her a little salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
*****
She had changed her clothes no less than three times. Finally, she settled on a long, patchwork skirt, and comfortable top. John hadn’t really said where they’d be going to dinner, or a movie, but hopefully, it wouldn’t be one of those horrible dates you always saw on television, where the girl’s dressed up, and the guy shows up in jeans.
“Mary,” her mother called. “Your. Date is here.” There was disapproval written in each and every word, the tiny hesitation. Mom wanted her to date ‘good’ boys. In other words, rich boys, who would further their social standing. She’d never quite been able to explain to Mom that she didn’t fit in with that crowd. Too tall, too gawky, too upfront with her opinions.
After all, Lawrence was the center of the earth when it came to debutante balls, Mary thought, rolling her eyes as she hurried down the stairs. John was standing in the foyer, looking distinctly uncomfortable under her parent’s critical eyes.
She paused for just a moment, enjoying the view. He’d been handsome in his uniform. In a neatly pressed oxford and dress pants, he was devastating. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she murmured, trotting down the last few stairs. God, he was tall. She’d always thought she was a freak of nature, topping out at five nine, but he made her feel tiny.
He smiled, dimples flashing, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother visibly unbend a little. “You look beautiful,” he rumbled.
She grinned back, and he held out a small bouquet of flowers. “These are for you.”
Her mother unbent a little farther, going as far as to give John a smile.
Mary took the flowers, unaccountably touched. “Thank you. They’re lovely.”
Her mother stepped forward. “I can put those in water, you go ahead and have fun.”
“Thank you,” John murmured. “I’ll have her home by nine, if that’s all right?”
Mary smirked. She’d told him her curfew was ten. But now her father was regarding him with a little more respect. Smart man.
He opened the door for her, as they left, and she flashed him a smile. “You know, some women think that letting a man open your door is a sign of chauvinism.”
He shrugged, grinning. “I know. Got my hand smacked for it a couple times on the way home. I’m not likely to change, so I’ll just have to get tougher knuckles.” Still smiling, he held out one hand. “Go ahead, take your best shot.”
“I didn’t say I was one of them,” she laughed, taking his hand instead. “I kind of like it.”
“Ah. Careful, they’ll take away your feminist card.” John led her to a rusted green monster of a car, again opening the door.
Mary slid in, smiling. “Don’t get me wrong, I want to have a career. I just don’t think it’s wrong to want a family too.”
“But doesn’t that make you a tool of the patriarchy?” John asked, eyes twinkling.
When he slid in behind the wheel, she punched his shoulder, and he laughed.
It made something in her stomach coil.
He took her to dinner at a place in the next town; this cute mom and pop place that had the best vanilla shake she’d ever had. Or maybe that was the company, she thought.
By the time they were sliding back into his car, she knew that John had enlisted in hopes of being able to go to school, though he loved his country and thought he was doing the right thing, too. He was vague when she asked what he’d done in Vietnam, but there was a look in his eyes that made her want to gather him in her arms and hold him. He was working at the supermarket as a stock boy and taking night classes to become a mechanic, and that he had the best smile in the world.
Afterwards, they walked in the park, laughing at the kids playing around the fountain. He bought her a popsicle, and held her hand, and didn’t try anything…even though she wouldn’t have minded.
They talked about music, and he laughed when she told him she liked Led Zepplin and Black Sabbath. “How is it that you didn’t have a boyfriend?” he asked, grinning.
“Most of the boys my mother wanted me to date were more of the Simon and Garfunkle type. And I just wanted to gag.”
He ducked his head a little, still smiling. “Um. Alice Cooper’s going to be playing in Kansas City in three weeks. He’s no Sabbath, but we could, if you like, we could go,” he stumbled.
“I’d love to. There’s only one thing,” she said seriously.
“What’s that?”
“I don’t want to wait three weeks to see you again.”
Later, Mary would think that his answering smile was the moment she fell in love.
*****
They dated through the summer and by the time the leaves started to fade into amber and crimson, Mary knew that she belonged by John’s side.
It hadn’t been smooth sailing by any stretch. John had a hell of a temper, had broken the wrist of some drunken fratboy who’d come on too strong while he’d been getting their drinks at the Labor Day picnic. They’d had a screaming row over it, ending with her finger poking his broad chest until he grabbed her and kissed her breathless.
He’d started school, and was doing well, learning the ins and outs of auto repair, but between the night classes and working extra hours to pay for what his GI bill didn’t cover, it left almost no time for them to spend together.
She’d see him every Sunday, though. Even though he’d never been religious, he showed up at Mass every week that she sang in the choir. Then, they’d go out for breakfast.
Her parents weren’t thrilled by his display on Labor Day, and were back to not so subtly suggesting that she find someone “better suited.” Mary couldn’t say she cared, but she knew it bothered John. Her friends thought she was insane, wasting herself on a stock boy, who only aspired to be a mechanic. To them, someone like John was good for a date well outside the city limits, maybe a roll between the sheets. A walk on the wild side, so to speak.
They planned their dates with more precision than Patton had plotted World War II. First, the son of the local bank manager. Then, at college, a rich business major. Then, god only knew what.
They looked at her with pity, reminding her that the sex wouldn’t last. She just shook her head and smiled. Truth was, she really wouldn’t know. Aside from some petting and admittedly fantastic kissing, John hadn’t tried anything.
She was starting to think that the whole “I respect you” thing was really code for “You couldn’t light my fire with a blowtorch, baby.”
It was, in a word, disheartening.
In another word, frustrating.
Dammit, she had needs too.
Fall wound into winter, and John finished his classes, graduated at the top of the class, and took a job down at Old Man Reynold’s garage, doing oil changes and tune-ups. It didn’t pay particularly well, though, and he was still doing overnights at the grocery, stocking shelves. He seemed like he was always working, but he still drove the same beat up car, and he still lived in a tiny apartment in a run down neighborhood.
She hardly ever saw him, and when she did, he was exhausted, dark circles heavy under his eyes. She teased him that he saw her friend Brenda who worked as a morning cashier more than her.
They broke up on Christmas, when he dozed off and missed her solo at the Midnight Mass.
The worst of it was that even as she was yelling at him, telling him that she deserved better, he just nodded and agreed. Said she was right, and that he hoped she’d find someone who would treat her right, and give her all the things she deserved.
He’d driven her home, and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, wiped her tears away and told her to be happy.
He was so calm about it, so reasonable, she wondered if he’d been planning to break up with her all along.
Her mother had fed her tea and cookies and told her it was for the best. Her father had growled and made noises about hurting his baby. And she’d wanted to curl up and die.
*****
Before she knew it, the seasons were turning again, the world bursting into vibrant color. She graduated from college with honors, and spent the majority of the ceremony fighting back tears. Here she was, about to start her life, with a couple job offers on the table, on a gorgeous spring day with the sun in the sky, and all she could think was that John had promised to cheer for her when she walked across the stage.
She could almost feel her parents eyes on the back of her head, feel their concern.
“It’s time to move on,” her mother had told her. “Surely there are boys at school who have asked you out.”
Truth be told, they had. She’d turned them all down.
They were just that: Boys.
They talked about themselves, their classes, their careers. They looked at her as an acceptable trophy to take to dances. They didn’t care who she was, just that she was pretty.
The valedictorian started to speak, and Mary caught the word “Vietnam,” and sighed.
The war was over, but that hadn’t helped. If anything, it had only increased the public scorn and ridicule for both war and troops alike. Every protest she saw, every time someone on the news spit on a returning soldier, she thought of John, of his quiet acceptance.
That, he’d told her, was what he’d fought for. For Americans to have the right to behave like total assholes. The memory pulled a sad smile from her.
Rona had told her that she’d seen John talking to Linda at the garage the other day, laughing with their heads close. Word was that he had been going out with her, that she’d been seen coming out of his apartment in the small hours.
It shouldn’t have bothered her. She’d walked away from him, not the other way around. He had every right to move on.
It didn’t stop the jealousy from eating at her stomach like acid.
He’d quit the supermarket not long after they’d broken up, was working full time at the garage, making quite a name for himself as an honest, good mechanic.
Her name was called, and she forced a smile onto her face, walked up the stairs and shook hands with the Dean of Students, taking the small rolled up paper that would tell her the diploma would be mailed in two weeks.
She paused for a second at the edge of the stage, flashing her parents a wide smile. Her father gave her a thumbs up, and her mother blotted delicately at her eyes with a handkerchief. Mary glanced around the field, and felt her heart land in her throat.
John applauded from the edge of the trees, his lips twisted in a tight smile as he watched her. He met her eyes for a moment, nodded slightly, and ducked around the trees, disappearing from her sight.
More than even the night they’d broken up, it felt like goodbye.
*****
She shouldn’t be here, Mary thought, staring up at the apartment window. She was asking for disappointment. She’d gone out with a couple friends for dinner, but she was miserable company, and finally, Corrine had glared at Rona. “It’s not working. Tell her.”
Mary had glanced up. “What?”
Rona had flushed. “It’s just. You were so upset, and-“
“What?” Mary asked again.
“I lied. Linda tried. He turned her down,” she added.
“You lied to me?” Mary put her head in her hands. “Why?”
“I thought you’d get over him, find someone better!”
She’d left soon after, throwing a few dollars onto the table and running out. Brenda had followed her, catching her in the parking lot. “I don’t want to talk about this,” she hissed.
“Tough. Just. Wait for a moment.” Brenda shifted her weight from foot to foot. “Look, I didn’t say anything, because I’d promised, and after that it just…no.”
“Wonderful! You all call yourself my friends, and you keep things from me?”
“I didn’t know what Rona and Cori had cooked up!” Brenda yelled back. “I promised John not to tell you!”
Mary blinked. “What?”
Brenda sighed. “He was working extra hours for Gary, at the Shop –n- Go. Strictly under the table, since John didn’t have a forklift certification. Paid him cash. That’s why he was so tired. He worked 40 hours at the garage, another twenty above board, and another twenty off the clock.”
“Why wouldn’t he just tell me?”
“That would have kind of ruined the surprise, wouldn’t it? He wanted to have enough to give you a ring for Christmas,” Brenda said softly. “Worked almost non-stop the two weeks before. Don’t think he slept more than two hours a night. Gary let him off early on Christmas Eve so he could go pick up the ring from the jeweler.”
Mary just stared. “He-“ She fumbled her keys into the lock and slid into the car. “I need to go.”
“Mary-“
“No. I—Thank you. I just need to go.”
And here she was, at his door, trying to work up the courage to knock. His television was playing quietly on the other side of the door, the flickering light visible through the crack under the door.
Dammit. He’d come to her graduation. She could do this.
Her knuckles hit the door harder than she’d planned, the sharp noise echoing through the deserted hallway.
She heard a shuffling noise on the other side, his familiar growl. “Coming.”
Then, the door opened, and her voice dried up. He was shirtless, his jeans riding low on his hips, hair still damp from a shower. “Mary,” he whispered. “What-“
She couldn’t stop herself from taking those last two steps, resting her head against his shoulder. Her arms slid around him, breath sighing out in something like a sob at the feel of his body against hers. “I screwed up,” she managed. “I miss you so much. And I love you.”
He tensed, and for one terrifying moment, she thought he was going to push her away. Then his arms slid around her, wrapped her in safety, and warmth.
She sobbed in earnest then, arms clutching him like he’d vanish if she let go.
“Oh, god. Don’t cry,” John murmured. “C’mon, sweetheart, it’s all right. Please don’t cry.”
He guided her to his lumpy sofa, held her close, petting her back gently, offering her a tissue. “I love you too,” he finally whispered. “Missed you so much, Mary.”
When she tilted her face up, it seemed the most natural thing in the world for him to kiss her, warm lips teasing hers apart, tongue licking his way into her mouth like sin.
Then, his hands were on her, slipping her thin blouse off her shoulders, cupping her breasts through the lacy fabric of her bra. “God, you’re so damn beautiful,” he murmured, bending to lick at a nipple, teasing it to hardness.
Her hands slid over his bare skin, down to the zipper of his jeans. She traced the hard length for a moment, practically purring her satisfaction. “I didn’t think- you never touched me like this,” she managed, other hand clutching in his hair, holding him to her breast.
“Wanted it,” he growled. “Wanted to wait, make it special.” His fingers slid along her thigh, under her skirt until he found the scrap of her panties, sliding them aside.
“Would have been,” she moaned. “Would have been with you.”
His lips smiled against her shoulder, fingers sliding in her, teasing over her for a moment before sliding in. John moaned low in his throat. “Jesus, you’re so wet.”
“God, please-“ her breath hissed out as the finger slid deeper, pressing just right. His thumb slid higher, brushing over her clit. “John!”
“Mmm,” John growled. “Wanted to touch you like this for so long, sweetheart.” He pulled back abruptly and she gave a little disappointed moan. “C’mere, baby. Not here. Bedroom. Our first time’s not going to be on a Goodwill couch.”
She took his hand and followed him into the sparse bedroom, dominated by the huge bed. “Sorry for the mess,” he muttered, ducking his head and kicking a pair of coveralls to the side. “Didn’t expect company.”
Not bothering to reply, Mary unhooked her bra, let it fall to the floor and reached for the waistband of her skirt. “Don’t care,” she finally muttered.
His hands slid around her waist, warm and rough, and she arched into him, lips tracing a path over his lightly furred chest. He was beautiful, she thought. So strong, powerful, but so gentle. His hands skimmed her skirt and panties off with the barest touch, calluses scraping over her hips.
Then, he was stepping back, eyes sliding down her body, the frank appreciation like a touch. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered.
Blushing, she ducked her head and tugged at the buttons on his jeans, pulling them down. Her hand slid down, curling around him, fingers stroking. The soft hiss of breath was the sweetest sound she’d ever heard.
John froze suddenly. “Mary, wait-I don’t have anything. A condom, I mean.” He closed his eyes on a shudder as her thumb slid over the head of his cock. “Hot water heater upstairs busted, and flooded my bathroom, had to toss them.”
“’M on the Pill. Please, John.” Her fingers tightened for a moment, then slid lower, cupping his balls, testing them, rolling them between her fingers. “Need you.”
After a long second, he nodded, his arms coming back around her. Strong fingers stroked her back, slid down to cup her ass, pulling her against him, then backing her, pressing her down to the bed.
Then, finally, his weight was pressing onto her, and she curled her legs up, wrapped them around his waist. “Please, John, god, want this, want you so much.”
He kissed her hard, tongue teasing her lips, darting in to taste and pulling back, and she moaned low in her throat, arching. Blunt pressure teased her for a moment, then he was sliding smoothly inside.
“God, so wet, so tight, baby,” John managed, gritting his teeth.
Mary just dug her nails into his shoulders and rocked her hips, encouraging him. “C’mon, John,” she panted. “Not gonna break.”
When he finally started moving, her hands slapped onto the bed, digging into the sheets. “Feels so good, John, so big in me. Harder, please, c’mon. Want to feel you. Want you to come inside me.”
John, it turned out, was more than happy to fulfill all of her soft pleas.
*****
Her parents weren’t exactly pleased when she came wandering in just before dawn, barely awake, and looking freshly fucked.
“John and I are back together,” she announced. “I’m going to move in with him.”
Her mother’s gasp hurt more than she’d expected. “Mary, surely you don’t think he’s-“
“I won’t allow this,” her father declared. “No daughter of mine is going to waste her life on some low-class mechanic.”
Mary glared at him. “It’s not your decision, Daddy.”
“But, you have such plans! What about the job offers, and your future. He’ll only hold you back! Do you think he’ll move to New York, so you can work as a writer? What about the offers from Good Housekeeping?”
“I don’t know! I don’t care. I love him.”
“I forbid this. You’re not to see him again.”
“Or what? You’ll disown me? Kick me out of the house? I’m already leaving.”
Her father’s lips tightened. “Mary, you’re breaking your mother’s heart.”
“I’m not going to break up with him, Daddy. I’m sorry he doesn’t meet your approval.” Mary turned to head up the stairs.
“Don’t walk away from me, young lady. We’re not done.”
Mary turned back, eyes bright. “Yeah, we are.”
By noon, she was back at John’s apartment, her bags at her feet. “I know we said in a couple weeks, but-“ she started miserably.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Come on in.”
He fixed her coffee, sat next to her on the couch and stroked her hair while she told him what her parents had said. “And I want a career, but I want you,” she finished.
He ducked his head a little. “Okay. We’ll work it out, sweetheart. I can work anywhere. If New York’s where the work is for you, that’s what we’ll do.”
“John-“
“I mean it,” he said firmly.
“It wouldn’t be forever,” she said hesitantly. “Just until I made a name for myself. Then, I could pretty much set up anywhere, and just make trips.”
“Okay.” He stood up abruptly, and walked to the kitchen, coming back with his hands in his pocket. “I don’t know if this is the right time, but I can’t wait any longer.”
Mary tilted her head curiously. “What, John?”
With a shrug, pink staining his cheeks, he dropped to one knee, pulling out a small, black velvet box. “I’d planned on this being your Christmas present, but I think this is better. It’s just you and me now. I don’t deserve you, never have. But I want to spend the rest of my life trying. Will you marry me?”
For a moment, she couldn’t breath around the emotion clogging her throat.
He opened the box, and a beautiful oval diamond winked at her. “I know it’s not much,” he said softly, running a hand through his dark hair. “If you don’t like it, we can go looking-“
“It’s perfect,” she finally managed. “It’s amazing.” She cupped his face in her hands and pressed a kiss to his lips, breathing her answer against them.
John pulled back, a smile splitting his face. “Yes?” he repeated.
She nodded, holding out her left hand, letting him slide the ring into place. It fit just like him. Perfectly.
****
They moved to New York in time to watch the leaves change from their apartment overlooking Central Park. John wasted no time finding work at a custom garage that catered to the rich and famous. It paid decently, and he quickly became the favorite mechanic to a varied group of luminaries. And if he never really fit into the New York style, it was all right.
Mary spent hours at work, first as an editorial assistant, then finally as a writer, working her way up the ranks.
By their second Christmas, they’d moved to Jersey, both of them catching the train to work every morning. John’s rustbucket of a car finally gave out for good, and he picked up a seven year old Impala that he swore would be the last car he ever bought.
Mary’s parents visited for their third Christmas, joining them at John’s invitation. They exclaimed over the little one bedroom house they’d scraped up the money to buy. Mary thought that any doubts they might have had about John had to be gone. She was as happy as she’d ever been in her life. And they’d just have to deal with the fact that the only ring on her finger was still the diamond. As far as she was concerned, the wedding was just a formality. She belonged with John. Period.
It was somewhere in the spring of ’76 that she realized that as thrilled as she was, John was just as miserable. Not that he’d ever say it to her, no. He was every bit the dutiful husband, totally supportive of her career. But there was a twist to his mouth, a bitter note to his voice sometimes when he talked about work or the city. He’d flatly refused to talk about kids, citing the horrible crime rates in the area. They were arguing more often, it seemed, John’s temper skating closer to the surface than she remembered.
It was time to go home, she decided.
She talked to her bosses, got the okay to switch to correspondent status. Her new column would be called “Dispatches from the Heartland.”
The naked joy on John’s face when she’d told him made her heart clench. “Why didn’t you tell me you were so unhappy?”
He shrugged, rumpling his hair. “It’s not that bad, I guess. The money’s good, and you’re doing so well…”
She shook her head, exasperated. “Is there anything else?”
He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “I want to get married. Before we go. I don’t want anyone looking at you like you’re not a lady.”
“How very barbaric of you,” she laughed. “You’re such a chauvinist at heart, John.”
John grinned, making pig noises at her. “You love it, baby.”
*****
They were married two months later, when the honeysuckle was in full bloom. A month after that, with their house sold, they took the Impala out for an extended honeymoon, traveling across the country for three glorious weeks. By the time they finally made it to Lawrence, her hair was bleached the color of the summer sun.
They stayed with her parents for the two weeks it took for them to find the perfect house in their range. Finally, they settled on a beautiful white house, a twisted tree standing guard in the front yard.
Mary loved it on sight. It was the perfect place, she thought, to raise a child. Or two. When she told John her thoughts, he laughed. “We’ll get there, sweetheart.”
He was thinking about opening his own garage, going in with a guy he knew from school, he told her. With the difference in housing prices between New York and Kansas, they still had a chunk of cash left over. Old Man Reynolds had died two years ago, leaving an Exxon with questionable mechanics as the only repair place in town.
“That’s fine. I’m still going off my pills,” she announced. “I won’t get pregnant right away, for God’s sake. It takes a good few months to get out of your system. Besides, I’m getting old. I want to enjoy our kids.”
“You’re not getting old,” he scoffed.
Mary saw the fear in his eyes. “Why does having kids freak you out so much?”
John shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Bull. Come on, John.”
He shrugged, looking around the room, at the boxes strewn all around. “I. I know I said I was an orphan. I might have stretched that a bit.”
“What?”
“I didn’t know my real father. He left my mother long before I was born. I grew up on welfare, with my alcoholic mother and a string of “uncles.” Half of them beat her.” He turned away, looking out the window into the backyard.
Mary’s breath caught in her throat. “Jesus, John.”
“Some of them beat me, too,” he admitted, voice low, shamed. “Eventually, I started fighting back. After one particularly vicious one, they took me away from her, put in foster care. I was too old, too rough for adoption, so I bounced from foster home to foster home until I was old enough to enlist.”
“Oh, honey,” she whispered, pressing against his back. “How old were you when you went into foster care?”
“Eleven.”
“God, John.”
“I’m not fit to be a father, Mary. I don’t know how. What if I'm like that?”
“You’d be an amazing father,” she whispered. “You’re not like that. If you were, you’d have hit me, some of the fights we’ve had, and you haven’t. You’re a good man, John Winchester. I’m proud as hell to call you my husband. And I’d be proud to call you the father of my children. But that can wait.” She hugged him again, pressing her cheek to his tense shoulders. “I love you.”
He turned in her arms, pulling her against him. “I’m not saying yes. But I’ll think about it.”
It was about three months later that her pills went missing, a red rose in their place with a note wrapped around the stem that said simply “yes.”
*****
Four months later, she met him at the door, a smile on her face. “Hi, Daddy,” she said, waving a slip of paper in front of his nose.
John stopped on the step, eyes going wide. “What?”
“Two months along,” Mary confirmed, heart so full she thought she’d burst. “I’m having your baby.”
His head dropped forward a little, and Mary started to worry. What if he wasn’t happy? What if-
Then, he looked up, hazel eyes bright with tears, and his arms slid around her waist. “Our baby,” he whispered, his lips parting in that incredible smile that made her heart clench, even after all these years.
“Our baby,” she agreed.
Then, he was lifting her against him, laughing and crying against her hair, spinning them until they were both dizzy.
When they slumped onto the couch, John kissed her hard. “I hope it’s a girl with her mommy’s eyes,” he mused.
She shook her head. “Nah, it’s going to be a boy,” she said. “I just know it. And he’s going to be a heartbreaker like his daddy.”
He laid a reverent hand on her stomach, and slid to his knees, in front of her. “Hi, little one,” he whispered. “I’m your Daddy.”
Mary bit her lip to keep from laughing, the smile threatening to split her face in half.
“I’m looking forward to meeting you in seven months,” he murmured. “Don’t worry about a thing. You’ll have a nursery waiting, and two parents who are going to spoil you senseless. And I’ll teach you to change the oil, and about good music, and-“
“Thought you wanted a girl,” Mary laughed.
“Doesn’t mean she shouldn’t know how to change the oil. Teach her how to kick all the boys-“ He laid a hand on either side of her stomach. “-asses.”
“John, honey. It’s this big.” She held up her fingers a couple of inches apart.
Grinning, he put one finger on each side. “Fine. Asses.”
“Don’t you listen to Daddy, sweetheart,” Mary murmured. “Mommy’ll teach you all the good swear words.”
“Amen to that. Mommy’s got a mouth on her,” John agreed, ducking the swat that Mary aimed at his head. “Hey! I like your mouth.”
“You’d better,” she growled. “But for now, how about you put your mouth to good use.” She tugged her skirt up high enough that he could see that she wasn’t wearing panties. “Cause, goddamn, John. The hormones are killing me. I want you in me twenty four hours a day. Gonna start showing up at the garage for a little afternoon delight, I swear.”
“Jesus, baby, our kid’s going to be a sex fiend,” John laughed, pretending to be scandalized. He sobered after a moment, pulling her into a tight hug. “I love you, Mary.”
“Love you, too,” she whispered back, smiling against the top of his head, breathing in the familiar smell of grease and motor oil that never seemed to quite come off.
It wasn’t the life she would have imagined for her, but she wouldn’t trade a moment of it, Mary decided. This was where she had always belonged.
-End.
Rating: Adult
Pairing: John/Mary
Disclaimer: They're not mine, unfortunately. All characters used without permission. No money made, no lawsuit preferred.
A/N: For the
spn_gleeweek Request Fest. For poisontaster's request for "John/Mary. Not overly schmoopy or cutesy. But John/Mary being together and happy. Could be courtship fic or could be while they're married." Hopefully, this fits the bill okay. “Oh, you gotta be kidding,” Mary groaned, banging her fist on the steering wheel. The car ignored her, steam pouring merrily from under the hood. “Dammit.”
She slid from the car, kicking the tire as she passed, and reached for the heavy hood. “Don’t-“ a sharp voice barked, a moment before she found herself airborne, a heavy hand around her waist, spinning her away from the car.
A thousand horror stories whipped through her head of random roadside maniacs, and she squirmed, pulling at the hand. Her heel impacted on his leg, and she felt a certain amount of satisfaction when he grunted in pain. “Settle down,” the voice muttered, sitting her back on her feet, and letting go.
She backed up, staring wildly at the stranger, a tall, dark haired man in a Marine uniform, his duffel slung over his shoulder. “What was that for?” she asked, hands on her hips.
He pointed at the car, where steaming water was pouring from something at the front. “Your radiator’s busted,” he explained. “I didn’t want you to get burned.”
Her cheeks colored, and she kicked herself mentally. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to-Did I hurt you?”
He smiled wryly, and Mary bit her lip. That was a smile to make a girl’s knees go weak. “I’ll live. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
She looked at the puddle again. “I think I prefer the scare to the alternative. Thank you.”
“My pleasure, ma’am.” He gave that devastating grin again. “I’m heading into town. Can I call a tow truck for you?”
She shrugged slightly, looking at the swiftly setting sun. “I—would you mind if I walk with you? I don’t like being out here at night.”
“Of course,” he said. “Though, unless it’s changed a lot in four years, Lawrence isn’t exactly the psychotic killer capital of the world.”
“I know,” she said, shrugging. “It just freaks me out.”
“Not a problem.” He shouldered his duffel bag again, and carefully wiped his hand on his pants before offering it to her. “John Winchester.”
She took it, felt his hand engulf hers. “Mary O’Donnell.”
“Pleasure’s all mine,” he said.
He had a nice voice, Mary decided. It went with the rest of him, really. “Are you just getting back into town?” she asked quietly.
“From Vietnam,” he said. “I decided not to re-up when my tour was done.”
“Good,” she said, voice fierce.
“Anti-war?” he asked softly, a little nervously.
“Very.” When he moved a little away from her, she shook her head. “Not like that. It’s not your fault.”
“Sorry,” he said, ducking his head. “The airport was a little dicey. I knew it wasn’t a popular war, but I hadn’t expected the anger. Hell, I didn’t like the war, either. Was just my job.” The sadness in his voice made her want to reach out, to smooth the frown from his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Mary said. “They don’t have any right to treat you like that.”
It wasn’t long before the lights of the all-night convenience store came into view. John paused outside for a moment. “Will you be okay?” he asked, eyeing the teenager behind the counter.
“I’ll be fine.” She reached over impulsively, and stood on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”
That smile bloomed again, and Mary felt something in her stomach twist a little. It felt kind of nice. “You’re welcome.” He started to turn away, then paused. “This is probably out of line, because no way someone like you doesn’t already have a boyfriend, but if not, would you maybe want to go out sometime?”
Mary smiled back, grabbing his hand and squeezing. “I don’t have one, and I’d love to go out.” She opened her purse and pulled out a pen and paper. “Here. Call me.”
He grinned again, taking the paper, and giving her a little salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
*****
She had changed her clothes no less than three times. Finally, she settled on a long, patchwork skirt, and comfortable top. John hadn’t really said where they’d be going to dinner, or a movie, but hopefully, it wouldn’t be one of those horrible dates you always saw on television, where the girl’s dressed up, and the guy shows up in jeans.
“Mary,” her mother called. “Your. Date is here.” There was disapproval written in each and every word, the tiny hesitation. Mom wanted her to date ‘good’ boys. In other words, rich boys, who would further their social standing. She’d never quite been able to explain to Mom that she didn’t fit in with that crowd. Too tall, too gawky, too upfront with her opinions.
After all, Lawrence was the center of the earth when it came to debutante balls, Mary thought, rolling her eyes as she hurried down the stairs. John was standing in the foyer, looking distinctly uncomfortable under her parent’s critical eyes.
She paused for just a moment, enjoying the view. He’d been handsome in his uniform. In a neatly pressed oxford and dress pants, he was devastating. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she murmured, trotting down the last few stairs. God, he was tall. She’d always thought she was a freak of nature, topping out at five nine, but he made her feel tiny.
He smiled, dimples flashing, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother visibly unbend a little. “You look beautiful,” he rumbled.
She grinned back, and he held out a small bouquet of flowers. “These are for you.”
Her mother unbent a little farther, going as far as to give John a smile.
Mary took the flowers, unaccountably touched. “Thank you. They’re lovely.”
Her mother stepped forward. “I can put those in water, you go ahead and have fun.”
“Thank you,” John murmured. “I’ll have her home by nine, if that’s all right?”
Mary smirked. She’d told him her curfew was ten. But now her father was regarding him with a little more respect. Smart man.
He opened the door for her, as they left, and she flashed him a smile. “You know, some women think that letting a man open your door is a sign of chauvinism.”
He shrugged, grinning. “I know. Got my hand smacked for it a couple times on the way home. I’m not likely to change, so I’ll just have to get tougher knuckles.” Still smiling, he held out one hand. “Go ahead, take your best shot.”
“I didn’t say I was one of them,” she laughed, taking his hand instead. “I kind of like it.”
“Ah. Careful, they’ll take away your feminist card.” John led her to a rusted green monster of a car, again opening the door.
Mary slid in, smiling. “Don’t get me wrong, I want to have a career. I just don’t think it’s wrong to want a family too.”
“But doesn’t that make you a tool of the patriarchy?” John asked, eyes twinkling.
When he slid in behind the wheel, she punched his shoulder, and he laughed.
It made something in her stomach coil.
He took her to dinner at a place in the next town; this cute mom and pop place that had the best vanilla shake she’d ever had. Or maybe that was the company, she thought.
By the time they were sliding back into his car, she knew that John had enlisted in hopes of being able to go to school, though he loved his country and thought he was doing the right thing, too. He was vague when she asked what he’d done in Vietnam, but there was a look in his eyes that made her want to gather him in her arms and hold him. He was working at the supermarket as a stock boy and taking night classes to become a mechanic, and that he had the best smile in the world.
Afterwards, they walked in the park, laughing at the kids playing around the fountain. He bought her a popsicle, and held her hand, and didn’t try anything…even though she wouldn’t have minded.
They talked about music, and he laughed when she told him she liked Led Zepplin and Black Sabbath. “How is it that you didn’t have a boyfriend?” he asked, grinning.
“Most of the boys my mother wanted me to date were more of the Simon and Garfunkle type. And I just wanted to gag.”
He ducked his head a little, still smiling. “Um. Alice Cooper’s going to be playing in Kansas City in three weeks. He’s no Sabbath, but we could, if you like, we could go,” he stumbled.
“I’d love to. There’s only one thing,” she said seriously.
“What’s that?”
“I don’t want to wait three weeks to see you again.”
Later, Mary would think that his answering smile was the moment she fell in love.
*****
They dated through the summer and by the time the leaves started to fade into amber and crimson, Mary knew that she belonged by John’s side.
It hadn’t been smooth sailing by any stretch. John had a hell of a temper, had broken the wrist of some drunken fratboy who’d come on too strong while he’d been getting their drinks at the Labor Day picnic. They’d had a screaming row over it, ending with her finger poking his broad chest until he grabbed her and kissed her breathless.
He’d started school, and was doing well, learning the ins and outs of auto repair, but between the night classes and working extra hours to pay for what his GI bill didn’t cover, it left almost no time for them to spend together.
She’d see him every Sunday, though. Even though he’d never been religious, he showed up at Mass every week that she sang in the choir. Then, they’d go out for breakfast.
Her parents weren’t thrilled by his display on Labor Day, and were back to not so subtly suggesting that she find someone “better suited.” Mary couldn’t say she cared, but she knew it bothered John. Her friends thought she was insane, wasting herself on a stock boy, who only aspired to be a mechanic. To them, someone like John was good for a date well outside the city limits, maybe a roll between the sheets. A walk on the wild side, so to speak.
They planned their dates with more precision than Patton had plotted World War II. First, the son of the local bank manager. Then, at college, a rich business major. Then, god only knew what.
They looked at her with pity, reminding her that the sex wouldn’t last. She just shook her head and smiled. Truth was, she really wouldn’t know. Aside from some petting and admittedly fantastic kissing, John hadn’t tried anything.
She was starting to think that the whole “I respect you” thing was really code for “You couldn’t light my fire with a blowtorch, baby.”
It was, in a word, disheartening.
In another word, frustrating.
Dammit, she had needs too.
Fall wound into winter, and John finished his classes, graduated at the top of the class, and took a job down at Old Man Reynold’s garage, doing oil changes and tune-ups. It didn’t pay particularly well, though, and he was still doing overnights at the grocery, stocking shelves. He seemed like he was always working, but he still drove the same beat up car, and he still lived in a tiny apartment in a run down neighborhood.
She hardly ever saw him, and when she did, he was exhausted, dark circles heavy under his eyes. She teased him that he saw her friend Brenda who worked as a morning cashier more than her.
They broke up on Christmas, when he dozed off and missed her solo at the Midnight Mass.
The worst of it was that even as she was yelling at him, telling him that she deserved better, he just nodded and agreed. Said she was right, and that he hoped she’d find someone who would treat her right, and give her all the things she deserved.
He’d driven her home, and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, wiped her tears away and told her to be happy.
He was so calm about it, so reasonable, she wondered if he’d been planning to break up with her all along.
Her mother had fed her tea and cookies and told her it was for the best. Her father had growled and made noises about hurting his baby. And she’d wanted to curl up and die.
*****
Before she knew it, the seasons were turning again, the world bursting into vibrant color. She graduated from college with honors, and spent the majority of the ceremony fighting back tears. Here she was, about to start her life, with a couple job offers on the table, on a gorgeous spring day with the sun in the sky, and all she could think was that John had promised to cheer for her when she walked across the stage.
She could almost feel her parents eyes on the back of her head, feel their concern.
“It’s time to move on,” her mother had told her. “Surely there are boys at school who have asked you out.”
Truth be told, they had. She’d turned them all down.
They were just that: Boys.
They talked about themselves, their classes, their careers. They looked at her as an acceptable trophy to take to dances. They didn’t care who she was, just that she was pretty.
The valedictorian started to speak, and Mary caught the word “Vietnam,” and sighed.
The war was over, but that hadn’t helped. If anything, it had only increased the public scorn and ridicule for both war and troops alike. Every protest she saw, every time someone on the news spit on a returning soldier, she thought of John, of his quiet acceptance.
That, he’d told her, was what he’d fought for. For Americans to have the right to behave like total assholes. The memory pulled a sad smile from her.
Rona had told her that she’d seen John talking to Linda at the garage the other day, laughing with their heads close. Word was that he had been going out with her, that she’d been seen coming out of his apartment in the small hours.
It shouldn’t have bothered her. She’d walked away from him, not the other way around. He had every right to move on.
It didn’t stop the jealousy from eating at her stomach like acid.
He’d quit the supermarket not long after they’d broken up, was working full time at the garage, making quite a name for himself as an honest, good mechanic.
Her name was called, and she forced a smile onto her face, walked up the stairs and shook hands with the Dean of Students, taking the small rolled up paper that would tell her the diploma would be mailed in two weeks.
She paused for a second at the edge of the stage, flashing her parents a wide smile. Her father gave her a thumbs up, and her mother blotted delicately at her eyes with a handkerchief. Mary glanced around the field, and felt her heart land in her throat.
John applauded from the edge of the trees, his lips twisted in a tight smile as he watched her. He met her eyes for a moment, nodded slightly, and ducked around the trees, disappearing from her sight.
More than even the night they’d broken up, it felt like goodbye.
*****
She shouldn’t be here, Mary thought, staring up at the apartment window. She was asking for disappointment. She’d gone out with a couple friends for dinner, but she was miserable company, and finally, Corrine had glared at Rona. “It’s not working. Tell her.”
Mary had glanced up. “What?”
Rona had flushed. “It’s just. You were so upset, and-“
“What?” Mary asked again.
“I lied. Linda tried. He turned her down,” she added.
“You lied to me?” Mary put her head in her hands. “Why?”
“I thought you’d get over him, find someone better!”
She’d left soon after, throwing a few dollars onto the table and running out. Brenda had followed her, catching her in the parking lot. “I don’t want to talk about this,” she hissed.
“Tough. Just. Wait for a moment.” Brenda shifted her weight from foot to foot. “Look, I didn’t say anything, because I’d promised, and after that it just…no.”
“Wonderful! You all call yourself my friends, and you keep things from me?”
“I didn’t know what Rona and Cori had cooked up!” Brenda yelled back. “I promised John not to tell you!”
Mary blinked. “What?”
Brenda sighed. “He was working extra hours for Gary, at the Shop –n- Go. Strictly under the table, since John didn’t have a forklift certification. Paid him cash. That’s why he was so tired. He worked 40 hours at the garage, another twenty above board, and another twenty off the clock.”
“Why wouldn’t he just tell me?”
“That would have kind of ruined the surprise, wouldn’t it? He wanted to have enough to give you a ring for Christmas,” Brenda said softly. “Worked almost non-stop the two weeks before. Don’t think he slept more than two hours a night. Gary let him off early on Christmas Eve so he could go pick up the ring from the jeweler.”
Mary just stared. “He-“ She fumbled her keys into the lock and slid into the car. “I need to go.”
“Mary-“
“No. I—Thank you. I just need to go.”
And here she was, at his door, trying to work up the courage to knock. His television was playing quietly on the other side of the door, the flickering light visible through the crack under the door.
Dammit. He’d come to her graduation. She could do this.
Her knuckles hit the door harder than she’d planned, the sharp noise echoing through the deserted hallway.
She heard a shuffling noise on the other side, his familiar growl. “Coming.”
Then, the door opened, and her voice dried up. He was shirtless, his jeans riding low on his hips, hair still damp from a shower. “Mary,” he whispered. “What-“
She couldn’t stop herself from taking those last two steps, resting her head against his shoulder. Her arms slid around him, breath sighing out in something like a sob at the feel of his body against hers. “I screwed up,” she managed. “I miss you so much. And I love you.”
He tensed, and for one terrifying moment, she thought he was going to push her away. Then his arms slid around her, wrapped her in safety, and warmth.
She sobbed in earnest then, arms clutching him like he’d vanish if she let go.
“Oh, god. Don’t cry,” John murmured. “C’mon, sweetheart, it’s all right. Please don’t cry.”
He guided her to his lumpy sofa, held her close, petting her back gently, offering her a tissue. “I love you too,” he finally whispered. “Missed you so much, Mary.”
When she tilted her face up, it seemed the most natural thing in the world for him to kiss her, warm lips teasing hers apart, tongue licking his way into her mouth like sin.
Then, his hands were on her, slipping her thin blouse off her shoulders, cupping her breasts through the lacy fabric of her bra. “God, you’re so damn beautiful,” he murmured, bending to lick at a nipple, teasing it to hardness.
Her hands slid over his bare skin, down to the zipper of his jeans. She traced the hard length for a moment, practically purring her satisfaction. “I didn’t think- you never touched me like this,” she managed, other hand clutching in his hair, holding him to her breast.
“Wanted it,” he growled. “Wanted to wait, make it special.” His fingers slid along her thigh, under her skirt until he found the scrap of her panties, sliding them aside.
“Would have been,” she moaned. “Would have been with you.”
His lips smiled against her shoulder, fingers sliding in her, teasing over her for a moment before sliding in. John moaned low in his throat. “Jesus, you’re so wet.”
“God, please-“ her breath hissed out as the finger slid deeper, pressing just right. His thumb slid higher, brushing over her clit. “John!”
“Mmm,” John growled. “Wanted to touch you like this for so long, sweetheart.” He pulled back abruptly and she gave a little disappointed moan. “C’mere, baby. Not here. Bedroom. Our first time’s not going to be on a Goodwill couch.”
She took his hand and followed him into the sparse bedroom, dominated by the huge bed. “Sorry for the mess,” he muttered, ducking his head and kicking a pair of coveralls to the side. “Didn’t expect company.”
Not bothering to reply, Mary unhooked her bra, let it fall to the floor and reached for the waistband of her skirt. “Don’t care,” she finally muttered.
His hands slid around her waist, warm and rough, and she arched into him, lips tracing a path over his lightly furred chest. He was beautiful, she thought. So strong, powerful, but so gentle. His hands skimmed her skirt and panties off with the barest touch, calluses scraping over her hips.
Then, he was stepping back, eyes sliding down her body, the frank appreciation like a touch. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered.
Blushing, she ducked her head and tugged at the buttons on his jeans, pulling them down. Her hand slid down, curling around him, fingers stroking. The soft hiss of breath was the sweetest sound she’d ever heard.
John froze suddenly. “Mary, wait-I don’t have anything. A condom, I mean.” He closed his eyes on a shudder as her thumb slid over the head of his cock. “Hot water heater upstairs busted, and flooded my bathroom, had to toss them.”
“’M on the Pill. Please, John.” Her fingers tightened for a moment, then slid lower, cupping his balls, testing them, rolling them between her fingers. “Need you.”
After a long second, he nodded, his arms coming back around her. Strong fingers stroked her back, slid down to cup her ass, pulling her against him, then backing her, pressing her down to the bed.
Then, finally, his weight was pressing onto her, and she curled her legs up, wrapped them around his waist. “Please, John, god, want this, want you so much.”
He kissed her hard, tongue teasing her lips, darting in to taste and pulling back, and she moaned low in her throat, arching. Blunt pressure teased her for a moment, then he was sliding smoothly inside.
“God, so wet, so tight, baby,” John managed, gritting his teeth.
Mary just dug her nails into his shoulders and rocked her hips, encouraging him. “C’mon, John,” she panted. “Not gonna break.”
When he finally started moving, her hands slapped onto the bed, digging into the sheets. “Feels so good, John, so big in me. Harder, please, c’mon. Want to feel you. Want you to come inside me.”
John, it turned out, was more than happy to fulfill all of her soft pleas.
*****
Her parents weren’t exactly pleased when she came wandering in just before dawn, barely awake, and looking freshly fucked.
“John and I are back together,” she announced. “I’m going to move in with him.”
Her mother’s gasp hurt more than she’d expected. “Mary, surely you don’t think he’s-“
“I won’t allow this,” her father declared. “No daughter of mine is going to waste her life on some low-class mechanic.”
Mary glared at him. “It’s not your decision, Daddy.”
“But, you have such plans! What about the job offers, and your future. He’ll only hold you back! Do you think he’ll move to New York, so you can work as a writer? What about the offers from Good Housekeeping?”
“I don’t know! I don’t care. I love him.”
“I forbid this. You’re not to see him again.”
“Or what? You’ll disown me? Kick me out of the house? I’m already leaving.”
Her father’s lips tightened. “Mary, you’re breaking your mother’s heart.”
“I’m not going to break up with him, Daddy. I’m sorry he doesn’t meet your approval.” Mary turned to head up the stairs.
“Don’t walk away from me, young lady. We’re not done.”
Mary turned back, eyes bright. “Yeah, we are.”
By noon, she was back at John’s apartment, her bags at her feet. “I know we said in a couple weeks, but-“ she started miserably.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Come on in.”
He fixed her coffee, sat next to her on the couch and stroked her hair while she told him what her parents had said. “And I want a career, but I want you,” she finished.
He ducked his head a little. “Okay. We’ll work it out, sweetheart. I can work anywhere. If New York’s where the work is for you, that’s what we’ll do.”
“John-“
“I mean it,” he said firmly.
“It wouldn’t be forever,” she said hesitantly. “Just until I made a name for myself. Then, I could pretty much set up anywhere, and just make trips.”
“Okay.” He stood up abruptly, and walked to the kitchen, coming back with his hands in his pocket. “I don’t know if this is the right time, but I can’t wait any longer.”
Mary tilted her head curiously. “What, John?”
With a shrug, pink staining his cheeks, he dropped to one knee, pulling out a small, black velvet box. “I’d planned on this being your Christmas present, but I think this is better. It’s just you and me now. I don’t deserve you, never have. But I want to spend the rest of my life trying. Will you marry me?”
For a moment, she couldn’t breath around the emotion clogging her throat.
He opened the box, and a beautiful oval diamond winked at her. “I know it’s not much,” he said softly, running a hand through his dark hair. “If you don’t like it, we can go looking-“
“It’s perfect,” she finally managed. “It’s amazing.” She cupped his face in her hands and pressed a kiss to his lips, breathing her answer against them.
John pulled back, a smile splitting his face. “Yes?” he repeated.
She nodded, holding out her left hand, letting him slide the ring into place. It fit just like him. Perfectly.
****
They moved to New York in time to watch the leaves change from their apartment overlooking Central Park. John wasted no time finding work at a custom garage that catered to the rich and famous. It paid decently, and he quickly became the favorite mechanic to a varied group of luminaries. And if he never really fit into the New York style, it was all right.
Mary spent hours at work, first as an editorial assistant, then finally as a writer, working her way up the ranks.
By their second Christmas, they’d moved to Jersey, both of them catching the train to work every morning. John’s rustbucket of a car finally gave out for good, and he picked up a seven year old Impala that he swore would be the last car he ever bought.
Mary’s parents visited for their third Christmas, joining them at John’s invitation. They exclaimed over the little one bedroom house they’d scraped up the money to buy. Mary thought that any doubts they might have had about John had to be gone. She was as happy as she’d ever been in her life. And they’d just have to deal with the fact that the only ring on her finger was still the diamond. As far as she was concerned, the wedding was just a formality. She belonged with John. Period.
It was somewhere in the spring of ’76 that she realized that as thrilled as she was, John was just as miserable. Not that he’d ever say it to her, no. He was every bit the dutiful husband, totally supportive of her career. But there was a twist to his mouth, a bitter note to his voice sometimes when he talked about work or the city. He’d flatly refused to talk about kids, citing the horrible crime rates in the area. They were arguing more often, it seemed, John’s temper skating closer to the surface than she remembered.
It was time to go home, she decided.
She talked to her bosses, got the okay to switch to correspondent status. Her new column would be called “Dispatches from the Heartland.”
The naked joy on John’s face when she’d told him made her heart clench. “Why didn’t you tell me you were so unhappy?”
He shrugged, rumpling his hair. “It’s not that bad, I guess. The money’s good, and you’re doing so well…”
She shook her head, exasperated. “Is there anything else?”
He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “I want to get married. Before we go. I don’t want anyone looking at you like you’re not a lady.”
“How very barbaric of you,” she laughed. “You’re such a chauvinist at heart, John.”
John grinned, making pig noises at her. “You love it, baby.”
*****
They were married two months later, when the honeysuckle was in full bloom. A month after that, with their house sold, they took the Impala out for an extended honeymoon, traveling across the country for three glorious weeks. By the time they finally made it to Lawrence, her hair was bleached the color of the summer sun.
They stayed with her parents for the two weeks it took for them to find the perfect house in their range. Finally, they settled on a beautiful white house, a twisted tree standing guard in the front yard.
Mary loved it on sight. It was the perfect place, she thought, to raise a child. Or two. When she told John her thoughts, he laughed. “We’ll get there, sweetheart.”
He was thinking about opening his own garage, going in with a guy he knew from school, he told her. With the difference in housing prices between New York and Kansas, they still had a chunk of cash left over. Old Man Reynolds had died two years ago, leaving an Exxon with questionable mechanics as the only repair place in town.
“That’s fine. I’m still going off my pills,” she announced. “I won’t get pregnant right away, for God’s sake. It takes a good few months to get out of your system. Besides, I’m getting old. I want to enjoy our kids.”
“You’re not getting old,” he scoffed.
Mary saw the fear in his eyes. “Why does having kids freak you out so much?”
John shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Bull. Come on, John.”
He shrugged, looking around the room, at the boxes strewn all around. “I. I know I said I was an orphan. I might have stretched that a bit.”
“What?”
“I didn’t know my real father. He left my mother long before I was born. I grew up on welfare, with my alcoholic mother and a string of “uncles.” Half of them beat her.” He turned away, looking out the window into the backyard.
Mary’s breath caught in her throat. “Jesus, John.”
“Some of them beat me, too,” he admitted, voice low, shamed. “Eventually, I started fighting back. After one particularly vicious one, they took me away from her, put in foster care. I was too old, too rough for adoption, so I bounced from foster home to foster home until I was old enough to enlist.”
“Oh, honey,” she whispered, pressing against his back. “How old were you when you went into foster care?”
“Eleven.”
“God, John.”
“I’m not fit to be a father, Mary. I don’t know how. What if I'm like that?”
“You’d be an amazing father,” she whispered. “You’re not like that. If you were, you’d have hit me, some of the fights we’ve had, and you haven’t. You’re a good man, John Winchester. I’m proud as hell to call you my husband. And I’d be proud to call you the father of my children. But that can wait.” She hugged him again, pressing her cheek to his tense shoulders. “I love you.”
He turned in her arms, pulling her against him. “I’m not saying yes. But I’ll think about it.”
It was about three months later that her pills went missing, a red rose in their place with a note wrapped around the stem that said simply “yes.”
*****
Four months later, she met him at the door, a smile on her face. “Hi, Daddy,” she said, waving a slip of paper in front of his nose.
John stopped on the step, eyes going wide. “What?”
“Two months along,” Mary confirmed, heart so full she thought she’d burst. “I’m having your baby.”
His head dropped forward a little, and Mary started to worry. What if he wasn’t happy? What if-
Then, he looked up, hazel eyes bright with tears, and his arms slid around her waist. “Our baby,” he whispered, his lips parting in that incredible smile that made her heart clench, even after all these years.
“Our baby,” she agreed.
Then, he was lifting her against him, laughing and crying against her hair, spinning them until they were both dizzy.
When they slumped onto the couch, John kissed her hard. “I hope it’s a girl with her mommy’s eyes,” he mused.
She shook her head. “Nah, it’s going to be a boy,” she said. “I just know it. And he’s going to be a heartbreaker like his daddy.”
He laid a reverent hand on her stomach, and slid to his knees, in front of her. “Hi, little one,” he whispered. “I’m your Daddy.”
Mary bit her lip to keep from laughing, the smile threatening to split her face in half.
“I’m looking forward to meeting you in seven months,” he murmured. “Don’t worry about a thing. You’ll have a nursery waiting, and two parents who are going to spoil you senseless. And I’ll teach you to change the oil, and about good music, and-“
“Thought you wanted a girl,” Mary laughed.
“Doesn’t mean she shouldn’t know how to change the oil. Teach her how to kick all the boys-“ He laid a hand on either side of her stomach. “-asses.”
“John, honey. It’s this big.” She held up her fingers a couple of inches apart.
Grinning, he put one finger on each side. “Fine. Asses.”
“Don’t you listen to Daddy, sweetheart,” Mary murmured. “Mommy’ll teach you all the good swear words.”
“Amen to that. Mommy’s got a mouth on her,” John agreed, ducking the swat that Mary aimed at his head. “Hey! I like your mouth.”
“You’d better,” she growled. “But for now, how about you put your mouth to good use.” She tugged her skirt up high enough that he could see that she wasn’t wearing panties. “Cause, goddamn, John. The hormones are killing me. I want you in me twenty four hours a day. Gonna start showing up at the garage for a little afternoon delight, I swear.”
“Jesus, baby, our kid’s going to be a sex fiend,” John laughed, pretending to be scandalized. He sobered after a moment, pulling her into a tight hug. “I love you, Mary.”
“Love you, too,” she whispered back, smiling against the top of his head, breathing in the familiar smell of grease and motor oil that never seemed to quite come off.
It wasn’t the life she would have imagined for her, but she wouldn’t trade a moment of it, Mary decided. This was where she had always belonged.
-End.
