Fic: One John to Another (1/1)
Fic: One John to Another (1/1)
Series: Chance Winchesterverse
Summary: The Grandparents have a talk.
Author: pen37
Beta: Divaslament
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural
Characters: John Winchester, Johathan Kent
Rating: pg
A.N: After The End Of All Things, I wanted to write something light and fluffy. I think I may have read Good Omens one too many times.
John Winchester looked at Jonathan Kent in askance. The blonde farmer shook his head. “Sorry John, I just can't do it anymore.”
This was going to be trouble. Winchester rubbed his two-day scruff thoughtfully. He'd been pleasantly surprised when St. Peter asked him to pull guardian angel duty - he was still pretty sure that a couple of the wing and harp brigade hadn't forgiven him for the whole sold his soul/escaped hell thing.
But his assignment had been Chance - and they weren't too sure about his grandson either. After all, the kid summoned Irish wolfhounds. Which meant that if he didn't have a guardian angel, the horns and pitchforks cadre might step in. It was bad enough that they were already nudging each other, winking and saying things like: Irish wolfhound. Yeah right.
As it turns out, keeping up with Chance was a full-time job. And John still hadn't found the time to, ahem, reconnect with Mary.
So he'd been more than happy when Jonathan Kent stepped in to give him a hand. “Chloe is practically family,” Kent had said. “Besides, Clark's kids are invulnerable and they've got a whole planet's worth of guardians lining up to help out. As long as Dax-Ur doesn't screw things up, I think we're okay.”
But now . . .
“Is it Jack Jack?”
“No,” Kent shook his head. “I don't mind the hel . . . er, wolfhound.”
“The exploding anvils? Because that's Gabe Sullivan's fault.”
“I raised Superman. I can handle a little falling iron.”
“The kidnappings?”
Kent sighed. “It's Lena.”
“The Luthor girl? What does she have to do with things?”
“You know who her guardian is, don't you?”
Winchester thought about it. “Oh. Lionel.”
“I don't even know how he made it up here,” Kent said with a frown.
“Probably that ambiguously good vibe he sent out the last year or two.”
“Yeah? Well, he was macking on Martha and my body wasn't even cold. I don't want anything to do with him.”
“Aw, hell.” Winchester scuffed his shoe. “I suppose I could recruit Ghandi or something.”
Series: Chance Winchesterverse
Summary: The Grandparents have a talk.
Author: pen37
Beta: Divaslament
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural
Characters: John Winchester, Johathan Kent
Rating: pg
A.N: After The End Of All Things, I wanted to write something light and fluffy. I think I may have read Good Omens one too many times.
John Winchester looked at Jonathan Kent in askance. The blonde farmer shook his head. “Sorry John, I just can't do it anymore.”
This was going to be trouble. Winchester rubbed his two-day scruff thoughtfully. He'd been pleasantly surprised when St. Peter asked him to pull guardian angel duty - he was still pretty sure that a couple of the wing and harp brigade hadn't forgiven him for the whole sold his soul/escaped hell thing.
But his assignment had been Chance - and they weren't too sure about his grandson either. After all, the kid summoned Irish wolfhounds. Which meant that if he didn't have a guardian angel, the horns and pitchforks cadre might step in. It was bad enough that they were already nudging each other, winking and saying things like: Irish wolfhound. Yeah right.
As it turns out, keeping up with Chance was a full-time job. And John still hadn't found the time to, ahem, reconnect with Mary.
So he'd been more than happy when Jonathan Kent stepped in to give him a hand. “Chloe is practically family,” Kent had said. “Besides, Clark's kids are invulnerable and they've got a whole planet's worth of guardians lining up to help out. As long as Dax-Ur doesn't screw things up, I think we're okay.”
But now . . .
“Is it Jack Jack?”
“No,” Kent shook his head. “I don't mind the hel . . . er, wolfhound.”
“The exploding anvils? Because that's Gabe Sullivan's fault.”
“I raised Superman. I can handle a little falling iron.”
“The kidnappings?”
Kent sighed. “It's Lena.”
“The Luthor girl? What does she have to do with things?”
“You know who her guardian is, don't you?”
Winchester thought about it. “Oh. Lionel.”
“I don't even know how he made it up here,” Kent said with a frown.
“Probably that ambiguously good vibe he sent out the last year or two.”
“Yeah? Well, he was macking on Martha and my body wasn't even cold. I don't want anything to do with him.”
“Aw, hell.” Winchester scuffed his shoe. “I suppose I could recruit Ghandi or something.”