failedparenting | UNIVERSAL IC CONTACT

[That definitely gets his attention.]

What's wrong? Are you okay? Is it Dean? [The wheels in his brain are already spinning rapidly.] When do I need to be over there?

Edited 2012-01-26 00:37 (UTC)

No no no- it's nothing like, we're all fine.

[She's not, but not the way he's thinking.]

It's about us.

[He's silent for a very, very long time. Then:]

What about us?

I found out something from Michael a while ago, but didn't know how to tell you. Or if I even should.

[It might sound like just another chance to lie, John, but there's a note of something else in her voice. An undercurrent of maybe you didn't want to know.]

Apparently, there aren't just angels and archangels. There's cupids, too.

Yeah, 'course you did.

[It's biting and accusatory, and somehow John doesn't regret it. He's so sick of secrets and lies, and he's absolutely not surprised she's been keeping something else.

So he listens. What. Is that all, "cupids"?]

Mar, if that's supposed to mean something, just tell me. I can't deal with this shit over the phone.

[He's exhausted, physically and mentally. It shows in his voice.]

Fine.

[She had been trying to figure out a way to explain it gradually, but whatever.]

Cupids are these fucking- [How often does Mary swear? She takes a deep breath and starts again.] They're a lower order of angel that exist to make people fall in love. Our entire relationship - the only reason we fell in love in the first place was because Michael told some freak to make it happen. They pushed us together and kept us together until the end.

[Cupid influence. That's what Michael called it. Influence. Every time she thinks about it she gets so mad she could spit.]

Don't you remember when you made that post and he said something about trouble in paradise and "giving you a dose of the usual?" That "usual" was those freaks changing our emotions so they could manipulate us.

[She sounds like she's on the verge of crying.] Think about it.

[The point early on when irritation unexpectedly sparked into attraction (confusing them both, to be honest). That madcap moment when they each decided that their families were less important than each other- all the fights. Every time they ended a fight abruptly or glossed over something that mattered for reasons they couldn't put their finger on. It might sound weird at first, but the longer she thinks about it, the more the whole thing pisses her off.]

[John says nothing while Mary speaks. He tries to absorb it all, but after she drops the bomb, he stops listening. He's lost in his thoughts now.

It can't be true, it just can't. He's always thought she was pretty, since the moment he first saw her. But then she opened her mouth, and the whole illusion was ruined, wasn't it?

And pretty doesn't equal love, he knows that.

They did hate each other at first. To him, she was that weird, stubborn, (pretty) girl with weird, stubborn parents. To her, he was that loudmouthed, cocky jackass from the bad side of town.

After a while all that hate burned down to a constant aggravation. It was like they were competing to be the bigger pain in the ass. Sides were taken. Insults were thrown. Friendships were strained. All because everyone knew Mary Campbell and John Winchester couldn't stand one another.

And then one day, it was love.

She's right, it makes sense. Perfect, crystal-clear, horrific sense. They might not love each other, not really. All those fights, that's the disgust, the burning aggravation. It's still there, so strong it bubbles up and erases the work of angels. She doesn't really love him. He doesn't really love her.

Before he knows what's happening, John is vomiting his lunch on the garage floor.]

Edited 2012-01-26 19:08 (UTC)

[The silence following her explanation absolutely kills her, but not as much as the sudden clatter and riot of sounds that absolutely fails to hide the sound of throwing up.

This, boys and girls, is what constant high-level stress will do to a person.]

John?! Jesus, John, are you okay? John?

[Oh, son of a bitch! Not like-

He plays it cool at first, waving off his coworkers. Bad tuna salad, nothing to worry about. Once he's safe in the bathroom, he can fully wallow in his mortification.

Look at him. Losing his lunch, like a fucking girl. It takes an even longer time to muster the courage to answer her again, but somehow he does it.]

Hey. No, yeah, I'm okay.

[Staring blankly at his wedding ring now.]

[Vaguely:] Good.

[A few moments of silence lapse.]

The other day I started crying in the middle of the mall because my usual lunch place was out of Italian dressing.

[Aka you're not the only one who's being ridiculous. Don't feel too bad, she wants to say, but bites it back for reasons that are a complete mystery to her.

I keep wondering... if it's why you never moved on. I mean, god. [A horrible, humorless "laugh."] That'd be sadistic even for them. Just the thought of it- [Makes her so mad she could scream. The very idea that he spent twenty years in pain because some asshole angel manipulated their love makes her sick.]

Don't, okay? Don't.

[He's having a hard enough time getting around the thought in his head. She doesn't need to say it and make it that much more real.]

There's something he didn't tell you. Has to be.

He just kept saying that Dean and Sam had to be born. I mean, after I started yelling at him he backtracked with something about- about amplifying what was already there? But the point is that they fixed us up.

[Well, that's at least slightly less shitty news.]

Have they been doing it to us here?

No. He said we've been free of cupid influence for a while now, and that... [Her voice gets audibly more pissed the fuck off.] I need to "think about how I really feel about you."

Like he has any right. [She feels like crying. She probably sounds like it, too.]

[S i l e n c e. Then:]

How do you really feel about me?

[Pause.]

I love you.

[That part is easy. The issue is that now, she wonders if she isn't being forced to love him- and him being forced to love her.]

No. I mean-

[Hold on, he's trying to find the right words.]

Under that. How do you feel about me?

[Oh. Well. That's a whole different kettle of fish.]

I... I don't know. It's not an easy answer, John. I know I don't want to just give up because Michael couldn't keep his thoughts to himself.

Mary. I just...

[He trails off, scrubbing a hand over his face. He's over this shit. Demons, angels, kids, fucking all of it. A man can only be wrung out emotionally so many times before he's fed up.]

Is this even worth it anymore?

[He doesn't mean it. He's just completely exhausted, mentally and emotionally.]

[Worth it. Is it worth it. Mary can understand why he'd wonder, but to hear him actually say it- she holds the away for a moment, pointing the speaker away but not covering it well enough to muffle the sound when she presses a hand over her mouth and lets out a dry sob, then another, until it wells up harder and she's actually crying, but trying (in vain) to keep it quiet so he can't hear.]

[Fuck. Oh fuck fuck fuck.]

No, Mary. No, I didn't- I mean, I lov-

[Oh God, how does he fix this?]

That's not what I meant, baby. It just feels like whatever we do, something's trying to split us. The angels, all the goddamn secrets, Dean...what'll happen next time?

[She can't even answer for a long, painful moment. She just slowly slides down the wall to the floor and draws her knees to her chest, feeling young and very, very small. She doesn't know the answer. Nothing like this has ever happened to her before. Marriage was always supposed to be something beautiful, something perfect- it was never that, but at least at home they thought it was. The shine stayed on, even if someone else put it there, and they were happy sometimes.

A whisper:] I want to go home.

[Clearing her throat and speaking up louder.]

I can't give up because of them. Whatever happens, John, I want it to be because we decided it. I'm not letting them hurt us and I'm not letting them win. Whatever decisions we make, we make them ourselves. I married you, not them.

[He sighs loudly and leans back against the wall. He's almost inclined to agree with her. Hell is waiting for him back home, but at least he wouldn't have to deal with all this doubt and longing.]

Would it really be our decision? Anything between us, it'll all go back to this Cupid shit.

I don't care. [Some determination threads back into her voice.] Screw them. It happened- there's nothing we can do about it.

[He makes some sort of noise in agreement, but he isn't really listening.]

What do we do now?

[You're the one that's good with feelings and relationships, Mary. He has no clue where to go from here.]

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momchester - 2012-02-05 01:34 (UTC) - Expand

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I had a word vomit of feels

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