SPN fic: Smoke from the chimney still
May. 6th, 2011 10:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eretriaTitle: Smoke from the chimney still
Author:eretria
Characters: Ellen, Cas
Rating: G
Size: ~ 400 (does that make it a quadruple-drabble?)
Warnings/Spoilers: none, really. Written before 6.18 aired
Notes: Thank you totwoskeletons for the idea that just wouldn't let go.
Summary: Ellen only has one regular in the Roadhouse now.
It was always the same in this version of the Roadhouse. The light never changed, never flickered over the pool table. The floorboards creaked the same way they had done for years. The smell of tobacco, old wood and warm dust hung in the air, comforting in its familiarity. The windows were still dirty, didn't magically clean themselves, even if the bowls of peanuts were never empty, no matter how many guests came in and swooped up peanuts by the handful.
Ellen was glad she had this as her heaven. It had always been the place she'd felt most at home, amidst the impressive collection of booze, the Guns and Ammo posters and the postcards from hunters all over the world. She had a favourite among those, one that made her smile whenever she looked at it: "Killed a Wendigo in Maine, will stay to go fishing. Send my love to Jo." The idea of John Winchester going fishing would never stop being hilarious. He'd known it would make her smile fifteen years ago. It still did, even here.
Few people came by, but she liked it that way. They told her stories when she didn't ask, the way most people in bars did when you just waited them out.
There was only one regular.
Even though regular was a relative term, as time didn't really matter up here. But the MO was always the same. He talked, she listened. If it had been a particularly trying time since his last visit, he'd switch to Enochian without even noticing.
She didn't speak Enochian.
It didn't matter.
This time, Cas looked ragged, his jaw sharp and his cheeks hollow, the dark circles under his eyes even more pronounced than usual. His trademark trenchcoat was singed and dirty, his hair in the kind of disarray that suggested he'd been in a storm. Ellen just poured the next shots and kept listening until he made an apologetic face that turned into a small, barely there smile and said: "Put it on the tab?"
"It's growing long," she replied, wiping the counter out of habit rather than out of necessity.
His face fell. "I know."
She poured him another shot, this time of her finest, slid the tumbler over the now damp surface of the counter. "For you, it's on the house." Ellen twitched a smile. "You look like you need it."
Castiel downed the whiskey in one gulp.
fin
Beta bymurron and auburnnothenna - thank you, my lovelies!
Author:
eretriaCharacters: Ellen, Cas
Rating: G
Size: ~ 400 (does that make it a quadruple-drabble?)
Warnings/Spoilers: none, really. Written before 6.18 aired
Notes: Thank you to
twoskeletons for the idea that just wouldn't let go.Summary: Ellen only has one regular in the Roadhouse now.
Smoke from the chimney still
It was always the same in this version of the Roadhouse. The light never changed, never flickered over the pool table. The floorboards creaked the same way they had done for years. The smell of tobacco, old wood and warm dust hung in the air, comforting in its familiarity. The windows were still dirty, didn't magically clean themselves, even if the bowls of peanuts were never empty, no matter how many guests came in and swooped up peanuts by the handful.
Ellen was glad she had this as her heaven. It had always been the place she'd felt most at home, amidst the impressive collection of booze, the Guns and Ammo posters and the postcards from hunters all over the world. She had a favourite among those, one that made her smile whenever she looked at it: "Killed a Wendigo in Maine, will stay to go fishing. Send my love to Jo." The idea of John Winchester going fishing would never stop being hilarious. He'd known it would make her smile fifteen years ago. It still did, even here.
Few people came by, but she liked it that way. They told her stories when she didn't ask, the way most people in bars did when you just waited them out.
There was only one regular.
Even though regular was a relative term, as time didn't really matter up here. But the MO was always the same. He talked, she listened. If it had been a particularly trying time since his last visit, he'd switch to Enochian without even noticing.
She didn't speak Enochian.
It didn't matter.
This time, Cas looked ragged, his jaw sharp and his cheeks hollow, the dark circles under his eyes even more pronounced than usual. His trademark trenchcoat was singed and dirty, his hair in the kind of disarray that suggested he'd been in a storm. Ellen just poured the next shots and kept listening until he made an apologetic face that turned into a small, barely there smile and said: "Put it on the tab?"
"It's growing long," she replied, wiping the counter out of habit rather than out of necessity.
His face fell. "I know."
She poured him another shot, this time of her finest, slid the tumbler over the now damp surface of the counter. "For you, it's on the house." Ellen twitched a smile. "You look like you need it."
Castiel downed the whiskey in one gulp.
fin
Beta by
murron and auburnnothenna - thank you, my lovelies!