#john fluff

The house was already bustling with people by the time you arrived — late, as usual. You hung your coat in the closet in the entryway and smoothed out your comfy sweater. The party had been deemed casual, but you knew your friend and her other friends well enough to know that a t-shirt and a ponytail just weren’t going to do the trick. You still had opted for a nice pair of jeans and boots, but you made sure your hair and makeup were done to impress. 

You searched through the house for the hostess, and finally found her pouring drinks in the kitchen. You snuck one from the row of glass tumblers and winked at her. 

“You’re here!” she squealed, setting down the bottle of Southern Comfort and coming around the island to hug you tightly. “I’m so happy to see you, I forgive you for snagging that drink.”

You giggled and returned the embrace with one arm. “Happy New Year to you, too. There’s so many people here!”

She finished pouring the drinks then put them on a tray. She nodded with her head for you to follow her, so you did. 

“It’s the first time Chris and I are hosting a holiday together, and I’m having multiple anxiety attacks,” she sighed, handing drinks off as she went. “He’s got a million people on the guest list. I had you and like a handful of other people, most of which decided to stay in Jersey instead of coming to Boston.”

You raised your brow. “So I know nobody here but you? Ash …”

She gripped your arm tight. “Please, Y/N. I’m begging you. Stick with me through this — I’m freaking out over here!”

Though you weren’t crazy about the crowd or not knowing anyone, Ashley was your best friend. For that reason only, you knocked back the majority of the contents in the glass you had swiped not that long ago and told her you were going to need some beer. 

“Not a problem. I’ll get you a beer, and we’ll just stick together for the rest of the night.”

That, of course, lasted all of about five minutes. You were tossing the cap from your beer bottle into the trash and when you turned around, Ashley was off with Chris’s arm around her. She was smiling and laughing; you just chuckled to yourself. She’d come find you later. Hopefully. 

You sipped at your beer and meandered through the party, recognizing a few people here and there from around the city, but no one that you knew well enough to stop and talk to. So, you continued to meander. 

When you had first moved to Boston, you used to walk by this house and wonder who lived here, what the inside was like. Then, Ashley had started dating Chris and your questions had all been answered. She still lived in New Jersey, but she came down as often as she could to see him. Sometimes, when you got bored, you’d call Chris and see if he was bored and the two of you would hang out. It was only because of those visits that you recognized a few of his friends here and there. 

Teasing yourself about being a Disney character, you found the library and quietly began to browse the titles that lined the shelves. Old and new, tattered and worn or in mint condition. Ashley had told you about this room before, but you hadn’t believed the amazingness of it until now. 

Your fingers floated over the spines of the hardback books until a particular title caught your eyes. Still holding the longneck in one hand, you pulled the book from the shelf and skimmed over the first few pages. 

“If you haven’t read that book, you should. It’s one of my favorites.”

The voice in the doorway called your attention away from the page you were reading. Quickly, you shut the book and placed it back in its proper spot on the shelf. 

“I don’t know if I’m supposed to be in here, but I don’t really know anyone so I was wandering the house. I live here and before Ashley started dating Chris, and I used to wonder what it was like on the inside, and then she told me about the library — that’s a run-on sentence. And I’m rambling.”

“You are,” the tall, vaguely familiar stranger nodded, but with a charmed laugh to accompany his comment. “And it was. I didn’t mean to spook you by the way. I noticed the light on and wanted away from the crowd myself. I’m John, by the way.”

He stepped into the room, extending his hand to shake yours. You wiped your hand on your jeans before slipping your hand firmly into his. His sudden presence had made you nervous, and in reaction, your palms had become slightly clammy. That was the last thing you wanted to pass on to this handsome guy. Then, you realized. 

“John,” you repeated, “John Krasinski. You’re the guy from that show …”

“The Office,” he offered with another amused smile. “Been a while since someone didn’t recognize me right off. Refreshing.”

You winced. “I’m sorry, I’m really horrible about watching new shows. I stick with Grey’s Anatomy and older shows, more or less.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but Ashley burst into the room. “Y/N! There you are! We’re starting beer pong. Let’s go! Oh, John, you can be Chris’s partner!”

She took you by the hand and dragged you away. You weren’t entirely sure that John was in tow until he appeared beside Chris on the other side of the beer pong table.

After a short tournament of three games, you and Ashley were declared the winners. There was no way you’d be getting back home in this state, but Ashley assured you that she had reserved a guest room for you. Since that was the case, you grabbed another bottle of beer and wandered back to the library. 

This time, you were only along for a few seconds before John showed up again. He greeted you by name and clinked his glass tumbler with your beer bottle. 

“Congrats on the win. Thank goodness Ashley said your name when she came to get you earlier. I wasn’t sure you’d give it to me otherwise.”

“I would have, eventually,” you assured. “I was nervous. Maybe. Tipsy, for sure.”

John nodded. “Can I show you something?”

Chewing on your bottom lip, you considered him carefully. You didn’t know him other than the fact that he was Chris’s friend. You were, however, just tipsy enough to slip your hand into his, leave your beer where it was, and allow him to lead you to the front closet. He waited patiently while you bundled up, then took you by the hand again and led you out to the sidewalk. 

A few blocks down, John tugged your hand to the left, across the calm street. Snow was starting to fall and the temperature seemed to be dropping by the hour. That didn’t stop you from excitedly following him through his loft apartment, out to the balcony. He left you there for a moment to admire the view, but came back with a big, flannel blanket. 

“That’s Fenway Park!” you exclaimed. “You can see this from your balcony? Like you just wake up every day and see the Green Monster?”

“I do. Ashley mentioned before how much you love the Red Sox.” John confirmed, wrapping one end of the blanket around you, and the other around himself. He pulled you in front of him so that he could pull both side of the blanket tight around the two of you — not an easy feat considering the height difference. “Are you warm enough? Can you see over the stadium okay?”

You nodded, leaning back into him. A part of you couldn’t believe this was happening; not one bit of it. Here you were, in this crazy romantic setting on New Year’s Eve, with a guy so far out of your league, it was like you were playing coach pitch and he was in the majors. The other part of you, though, the part with inhibitions lowered thanks to the beers, decided to drink it all in and let it happen. 

At the stroke of midnight, fireworks exploded over Fenway Park. You drew in a deep breath and watched in wonder as the colors lit up the sky. Even through the snow, the fireworks continued. 

When they finally ended, John opened the slider so you could get inside and get warm. He shook the snow from the blanket, then hurried inside himself. You took a deep breath and shrugged. 

“What now?”

“Now,” John replied, almost as though he was deciding even as he spoke, “I make you your favorite breakfast, and you tell me more about yourself.”

“Breakfast? At midnight?”

John nodded. “It’ll head off the hangover. I’ll tell you more about me. Maybe we’ll even watch The Office.”

You giggled and unzipped your coat. You laid it carefully over the arm of the chair, and slipped your shoes off, too. “French toast. And bacon. Please.”

John didn’t just smile this time; he grinned. 

While John cooked, you sipped at a tasty cup of coffee and told him about your life: where you had grown up, what made you decide to move to Boston, and how strongly you felt that you should have been in this city your whole life. 

“It is a pretty great place,” John agreed. “And what do you do for a living?”

You filled him in on that information while he plated a few pieces of French toast and bacon for each of you. When he sat across from you, you clapped excitedly; you hadn’t realized how hungry you were until food was an option. 

“Your turn,” you encouraged with a cheek full of French toast. “Tell me how you got to this point in your life.”

The next hour or so, the two of you filled your bellies and filled each other in on your basic life information. After you helped John with the dishes, the two of you sat on the couch. You were getting sleepy, so he offered the same blanket from the balcony, took a seat next to you, and covered both of you with the blanket. You leaned your head against his shoulder, and John put an arm around you. His hand landed at your hip. You were warm and cozy and fighting sleep in a matter of minutes. 

“I wanna see you again, but my life gets pretty crazy these days,” John told you quietly. 

You adjusted so your cheek was against his chest and nodded. “It’s okay. I’m having a great night, but I’m not sure I’m ready to be in any sort of limelight.”

John kissed the top of your head. “Guess we’ll just have to be secret lovers then.”

You responded with a sleepy chuckle. The kiss on your head had left you wanting more, so you tilted your chin up to him. “Happy New Year, John.”

“Happy New Year, Y/N.” 

Sam nodded and looked up to Dean. “Our spot is over there.” Dean pointed across the yard to a shell of a car. “I’ve got like a hundred snowballs ready and waiting, Sammy. He’ll never know what hit him.” Sam finally smiled, for the first time since hearing his dad was on the way, he smiled and ran with his brother across the lot to the little fort filled with snowballs they’d spent all yesterday building.

It was somewhere between ten and fifteen minutes when you heard the first signs of the Impala coming. You saw the boys faces light up across the yard before they ducked down and hid. The plan was simple. You distract, the boys go in for the kill.

As soon as John Winchester stepped out of his car, you hit him with the first ball. And then a second, and a third. It was when the fourth one hit him that he spotted you. “Seriously!?” You just grinned and launched another, he turned, and it hit him on the side of the head. “Oh, that's it!”

You yelped, grabbing what snowballs you could as John ran after you with a big grin. You bolted from your hiding spot, tuning from time to time to send a snowball his way. Snowballs he dodged with ease as he, caught up with you.

You yelped as his arms wrapped around you and swung you around until you both fell in the snow, John smiling from above you. “The boys?”

“They're around.”

“They been good?”

“Always are.”

“Bobby?”

“Left with Rufus two days ago.”

“Expecting him home soon?”

You shook your head. “Not for a few days.”

“Good. Then I can do this.” He ducked his head down and his lips pressed to yours, slightly parted and taking your bottom lip between them.

You felt the snow starting to hit you, balls of it pelting down on John. He pulled away with a slight glare. “Tsk tsk. I can't believe you fell for the bait.” you teased.

He looked over and his two boys who'd paused their assaults to grin at him. “Boys…” John's voice was a warning, but the boyish spark in his eye was all playful.

Dean straight his back. “I'm gonna tell uncle Bobby that you kissed Y/N.”

“Oh, no you won't!” John got up off of you to chase after his boys who were laughing and running from him.

“You're gonna be in trouble!” Sam sang as he ducked past John to follow his older brother to safety.

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What does it mean to be a father? You’ve never had one your whole life. It’s always been just you and your mom and in a way, that was all you needed. Sure, you were envious of the kids who had two loving parents but then you would think why would you have to be jealous? If your dad didn’t want you, then you wouldn’t be sad over him.

Your mother took the roles of a father and of a mother all at the same time. You knew it was hard on her and you knew that she was hurting. You tried helping her all the time and as much as she was grateful, a kid shouldn’t have an adult responsibility.

She took on everything all by herself and you loved her with all your heart.

But then she died.

And you were alone.

John Winchester took you in and as much as you were grateful, you just couldn’t come to terms with the fact that he was your new dad. You never had a dad and you didn’t need one now. Well, that is what you thought at 8-years-old. Now you were 12 and things have changed.

John sacrificed a lot for you. He took care of you when you were feeling down, when you got hurt, when you asked for advice, when you just needed a shoulder to cry on, and when you needed a little encouragement. He as the dad that you didn’t know that was missing.

You never knew your real dad but you felt like you were betraying whoever it was if you loved John the way you loved your mom. You felt like you were being a bad kid for loving a man who wasn’t your family. John never pressured you to call him dad or for you to love him and that is why you loved him even more.

John never had a girl to watch over so he didn’t know what to do at time. He was more delicate with you than with his boys. You were a more sensitive topic to him than his boys. John, of all people, knew you were broken when your mom died and he understood that, He gave you a home when you had none. He gave you shelter, food and love that you didn’t know you would ever get again.

So, when Father’s Day came around, it was special to you because it was the first one when you knew that you loved John. You wanted him to know it so you wanted to do something special for him. Sam and Dean didn’t really celebrate Father’s Day but you wanted to.

You did what any other 12-year-old would do in your situation: You would make something for him because you had no money to do anything else. It wasn’t much but you had made him a card, explaining how you were feeling. You already made him breakfast that morning and made sure that his day was the least stressful and so far, it was working.

“John?” You asked, walking to him while he was on the couch, cleaning some guns. Sam and Dean decided to go to sleep for the night which was perfect because you didn’t want them here when you did this.

“Hey, Y/N, you should be sleeping. You know I have to go on a hunt and you have to be up to watch out for Sammy,” John said, noticing you were shuffling around and looking down. “What’s wrong?”

“Happy Father’s Day.” You said, shoving your hand that had the card out. He looked at you before the card, taking it from you.

“You didn’t have to do this.” John said, opening it.

“Yeah, I did.” You said, watching his reaction to what you read. You saw him slightly smile and tears formed in his eyes.

“Y/N, thank you for this.” John whispered, letting a tear fall.

“No, thank you. You took me in when I had no one. You gave me a home, food, and love. You sacrificed so much for me and I didn’t know I would ever be a part of a family like yours. I never knew my dad and I don’t think I ever will. But I’m glad to call you my dad because that is what you are. I love you, John. I mean, dad.” You smiled.

John didn’t say anything, instead, he pulled you into a hug. He held onto you tightly and you smiled, hugging him back.

“I love you.” John whispered to you.

You finally had a family again.

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Over the years, you and John crossed paths via Ashley and Chris, kept in touch via phone calls and text messages, and you even flew out to Los Angeles to see him a few times. It was always the same; when you were together, you were together. When you weren’t, you weren’t. You were always aware when John was dating someone else, and vice versa, but you always came back to each other. That strange in-between the two of you were involved in never went away. 

At the turn of a new decade, Chris and Ashley’s two young kids were with Ashley’s mother for a few days. With their time freed up, the pair decided to hold a New Year’s party again — smaller than the one when you had first met John, but no casual get-together, either. 

You had been single for almost a year, and you knew that John was coming off of a break-up with his latest relationship. You had pressed Ashley for details, but she refused to give. 

“If John wants to tell you, Y/N, he’ll tell you. Maybe he needs a little time with this one.”

That statement took you aback and made you think — made you overthink. What was it about this woman that made John need time to move on? No other break-up had been that way; sure, he’d been disappointed, been bummed out for a few days. But it had been over a month now. You had never met the woman, granted, so maybe that’s why you didn’t understand. 

You donned a pretty dress for the occasion, went easy but appropriate for hair and makeup, then slipped your feet into a pair of ankle boots. No sense wearing heels and risking your ankle on the snowy Boston sidewalk before you even made it to the party.

Feeling a bit of deja vu, you hung your coat in the entryway, then went in search of a drink. One side of the double sink in the kitchen was filled with ice and beer bottles, so you plucked one from the group, used the nearby church key to pop the top off, and took a sip before going to mingle. 

Though your eyes searched the party for John, you found Ashley and Chris first. They were conversing with some of Chris’s co-workers. Not wanting to interrupt, you tapped Ashley on the shoulder. 

“Hey, you’re here,” she smiled, carefully balancing her wine glass in the hand that wasn’t hugging you. “And you found yourself a drink, good deal.”

She went on to introduce Chris’s co-workers, then excused the both of you back to the kitchen. She added a little wine to her glass, then leaned one hand on the island. 

“John’s not coming.”

“Not coming? Why?” And why wouldn’t he tell me that himself?

Ashley sighed. “I don’t know, Y/N. All he said was that he needs space. He also asked me — shit, I wish he wouldn’t have put me in this position. He needs you to give him some space for a while, while he figures some things out. He wouldn’t tell me anything else I was going to wait until later, but thought maybe it was best to do it now, before you drunk text him or something.”

You lifted the beer bottle to your lips and downed the majority of the contents in an effort to fight the tears stinging the back of your eyes. “Right, of course. It’s fine. I’m sure whenever he’s through whatever’s going on, he’ll fill me in. Let’s get back to the party, yeah?”

“Y/N …”

“Ashley,” you sighed, shaking your head, “I don’t wanna talk about it. I can’t talk about it.”

She gave you a quiet, ‘Okay’, before walking with you back to the party. There was no beer pong tonight, but Ashley had planned several other fun games. You kept a beer in your hand at all times, and thinking of John became a little drinking game of your own. Think of John, take a drink. Feel sad, take two drinks. Feel like texting or calling or crying, drink till the feeling goes away. 

As midnight and the New Year grew closer, you switched to water. You were upset enough to bring in the New Year without John, no sense in being sick, too. 

Why does it matter so much?

What an excellent question. You realized that you missed John, more this time than you had any other time one of you was in a relationship. Maybe because you were ready to settle down, and you were both single, so your mind and your heart had convinced you that things could happen for real. 

You chugged down your water when the truth of those realizations washed over you and made you feel like falling apart. You tossed the cup, and helped Ashley pass out sparklers and noisemakers, while Chris went behind the two of you with a lighter. With a few minutes to go, you snuck off to the library, preferring to bring in the New Year on your own if you couldn’t bring it in with John. 

The countdown was at thirty seconds; you stood at the window with your unlit sparkler. Even people on the street below had stopped to countdown with each other, eager to kiss their loved one when the clock struck the new hour. You swiped at a single tear that managed to escape when you blinked. 

Ten. 

You heard the library door open, but you didn’t turn around. You assumed it would be Ashley and Chris, coming to look for you, together so that they didn’t miss the celebration. 

Nine. 

A single pair of footsteps approached you, stopping close enough that you could feel the person’s presence behind you. With a sigh, you turned from the window. 

Eight. 

“John? Ashley said you weren’t coming. She said … I thought you didn’t want to see me or talk to me.”

Seven. 

“Yeah, I said that. But — I don’t wanna say I changed my mind. I’m here now, regardless.”

Six. 

You swallowed down your sarcastic reply. “You didn’t have to be.”

Five. 

He closed the gap between the two of you. “I wanted to be. We have a lot to talk about, me and you.”

Four. 

John’s arms encircled your waist, yours rested on top of his, your hands near his shoulders. “Would you like to discuss those things now?”

Three, two, one! 

John chuckled and shook his head. “Not at this exact second, no. Happy New Year, Y/N.”

“Happy New Year, John.” 

The two of you met in the middle for a sweet, lingering kiss that felt like coming home after being gone for far too long. 

After the kiss, the two of you agreed to go back to your place. You had moved recently, to a place closer to Chris and Ashley, within walking distant. John held your hand the entire way, but you could still feel the tension simmering between the two of you.

“I’ll take your coat,” you offered, hanging both his and yours on the rack near the front door. “Do you want something to drink?”

John shook his head and put his hands in his pockets. “What are we doing, Y/N?”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean … I can’t have a relationship with anyone without wishing she was you. Without comparing her to you. The last one, she was perfect. We were compatible in every possible way, and the differences just balanced each other out.” He paused for a sardonic chuckle. “Ten years, Y/N. We’ve been doing this for ten years. We’re not together, but we’re definitely not ‘just friends.’”

“John …”

“No. No more excuses. The limelight, the age difference, ‘I’m out of your league’ — which, I don’t agree with, by the way. Ten years,” he repeated, “how much longer are we going to drag this out before we cut the bullshit and do this and be together, for real?”

You sniffled. So much for holding back the crying you’d been trying to avoid all night. “What ever happened to secret lovers, huh?”

He smiled kindly. “C’mon. If you’re gonna let me down, this is the time to do it.”

You took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “You know, when Ashley told me you weren’t coming to the party … when she told me you didn’t want to talk to me for a while … I was heartbroken. More than I thought I would be. John, I think — I fell for you that first night we met, in the library. You’re right when you said that I think you’re out of my league. I still think you are, and I may always think that. I don’t want to let you down, John. I want to do this. For real.”

“For real?” He asked, as though he wasn’t expecting you to say that. 

You smiled. “For real.”

John let out a whoop! before picking you up from the ground and kissing you. You kissed him back, though you struggled not to smile through the kiss. He hugged you tightly, almost as though he was afraid if he let go, you’d change your mind. 

“What now?” you asked when he finally set you down. 

He pretended to think for a minute. “French toast and bacon?”