I think now it's officially ficspam.
[title] 002 (Baby did a bad, bad thing.)
[author] koala_motchi
[fandom] Supernatural
[pairing] John/Ellen & Bill/Ellen
[challenge/prompt] un_love_you #19: This isn't about you at all.
[rating & notes] Meet Jo, kinda. 360 words. R, AUish. This one could get a little confusing for some people, as my personal canon timeline puts Jo-belle a year and a half younger than Sam, which I admit wholeheartedly has no basis in actual canon at all. Looked over by ryuutchi.
John had left the boys in the motel twenty miles north. Dean was taking care of little Sammy with the gun in the kit John had made for him, and after their last round of target practice, John felt confident that Dean and the baby would be okay. At least for an hour or two.
It'd been nearly six months since he'd last seen Bill, and he felt guilty. He was avoiding his friend for other reasons, and those reasons were all wrong.
Bill's truck wasn't parked outside, and that made John uneasy, but he steeled himself and headed into the roadhouse. He found himself a seat on the bar and waited. Ellen was in the back, he could hear her moving around, probably tapping a new keg or getting another case of PBR. Maybe Bill had her in the back, pressed up against the wall with her thighs around his hips and his breath hot and sharp against her neck while she fought to keep quiet so the people out front wouldn't hear.
John felt his thighs clench and his cheeks flushed as he remembered what that had felt like, having her lips tremble against his ear, determined to keep those moans inside.
She came out from the stock room with her back to the bar, pulling a dolly rather than carrying the cases, and said, "I'll getcha in a minute. Whatchya drinking?"
Ellen didn't look up or look back at John, to see who it was - she knew the smell of sulfer, and a demon wasn't due around these parts just yet. Her guard was on, but she was going to take her sweet time unloading the bottles into the fridge below.
John had been about to ask for a glass of water and an update on Bill, when Ellen turned around and his heart stopped. Her belly was swollen and round underneath the tank top she had under that open flannel shirt, and she looked just far enough along for John to call, "Bourbon."
She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "For christ's sake, John," she said, pushing the shot across the bar, "She ain't yours."
[author] koala_motchi
[fandom] Supernatural
[pairing] John/Ellen & Bill/Ellen
[challenge/prompt] un_love_you #19: This isn't about you at all.
[rating & notes] Meet Jo, kinda. 360 words. R, AUish. This one could get a little confusing for some people, as my personal canon timeline puts Jo-belle a year and a half younger than Sam, which I admit wholeheartedly has no basis in actual canon at all. Looked over by ryuutchi.
John had left the boys in the motel twenty miles north. Dean was taking care of little Sammy with the gun in the kit John had made for him, and after their last round of target practice, John felt confident that Dean and the baby would be okay. At least for an hour or two.
It'd been nearly six months since he'd last seen Bill, and he felt guilty. He was avoiding his friend for other reasons, and those reasons were all wrong.
Bill's truck wasn't parked outside, and that made John uneasy, but he steeled himself and headed into the roadhouse. He found himself a seat on the bar and waited. Ellen was in the back, he could hear her moving around, probably tapping a new keg or getting another case of PBR. Maybe Bill had her in the back, pressed up against the wall with her thighs around his hips and his breath hot and sharp against her neck while she fought to keep quiet so the people out front wouldn't hear.
John felt his thighs clench and his cheeks flushed as he remembered what that had felt like, having her lips tremble against his ear, determined to keep those moans inside.
She came out from the stock room with her back to the bar, pulling a dolly rather than carrying the cases, and said, "I'll getcha in a minute. Whatchya drinking?"
Ellen didn't look up or look back at John, to see who it was - she knew the smell of sulfer, and a demon wasn't due around these parts just yet. Her guard was on, but she was going to take her sweet time unloading the bottles into the fridge below.
John had been about to ask for a glass of water and an update on Bill, when Ellen turned around and his heart stopped. Her belly was swollen and round underneath the tank top she had under that open flannel shirt, and she looked just far enough along for John to call, "Bourbon."
She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "For christ's sake, John," she said, pushing the shot across the bar, "She ain't yours."