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avandell2006-12-24 03:41 pm
theladyscribe) wrote in avandell2006-12-24 03:41 pm
Entry tags:
Christmas fic: The Visitor
Merry Christmas (Eve) everyone! As a gift from me to you, I have a Christmas story! Enjoy!
Title: The Visitor
Characters: Dean, Jo, A Visitor
Rating: PG, for mild swearage
Word Count: 410
Summary: Dean and Jo receive a late-night visitor on Christmas Eve.
Notes: This is set in the same futureverse as my Dean/Jo Tennessee series.
Title: The Visitor
Characters: Dean, Jo, A Visitor
Rating: PG, for mild swearage
Word Count: 410
Summary: Dean and Jo receive a late-night visitor on Christmas Eve.
Notes: This is set in the same futureverse as my Dean/Jo Tennessee series.
The Visitor
“Dean. Dean! Dean! Wake up, dammit!”
Dean groans and twitches, batting Jo’s hands away from his shoulder. “Go away,” he mutters as he pulls the blankets closer to his chin.
“Dean, I think there’s someone in the apartment,” Jo stage-whispers, and that gets Dean’s attention.
He rolls over to look at her and says, “What?”
“I woke up because it sounded like someone was walking around on the roof. I thought maybe you’d gone outside for whatever odd reason, but you were in here, fast asleep. Then I heard whoever it was climbing down the fire escape.”
“And you didn’t go investigate?”
Jo suddenly becomes very interested in the pattern on Dean’s comforter. “No… I, uh, I left my gun in my room.”
“You could have gotten mi – ” Dean stops short when he heard the footsteps going past the door. He swears and climbs out of bed, reaching underneath it for the Glock. He motions Jo behind him, and he opens the door. “Whoever you are, I want you to know I have a gun and I am not afraid to use it.” There is silence, and then suddenly, a window slams.
Dean and Jo both jump, but then Dean steps out into the hallway, peering around the corner. He turns to Jo, a befuddled expression on his face as he waved her over. “What is it?” she whispers. She gasps as she turns the corner.
Someone has taken the dilapidated little tree they’d bought at the last minute and replaced it with a flourishing and sweet-scented pine. Not only that, but they’ve decorated the place – put up lights and frilly, sparkly things that made the whole room seem a little ethereal, a little magical.
“Did you do this?” Dean looks at Jo accusingly.
“Yeah, I hid all this stuff from you all week long, set it up at three in the morning, and can even do ventriloquism with my feet.” Jo rolls her eyes at him.
“I wouldn’t put it past you,” Dean mutters. He mutters something else, but Jo isn’t listening. Instead, she’s picking something up off the coffee table. It’s a piece of paper or a card or something, and Dean moves over to look at it. She hands it to him silently. It’s on red paper with flourished gold writing. It says simply:
Sometimes even the naughtiest of children deserve a happy Christmas. And sometimes, if people believe hard enough, they’ll get it. -- Nikolaus
“Dean. Dean! Dean! Wake up, dammit!”
Dean groans and twitches, batting Jo’s hands away from his shoulder. “Go away,” he mutters as he pulls the blankets closer to his chin.
“Dean, I think there’s someone in the apartment,” Jo stage-whispers, and that gets Dean’s attention.
He rolls over to look at her and says, “What?”
“I woke up because it sounded like someone was walking around on the roof. I thought maybe you’d gone outside for whatever odd reason, but you were in here, fast asleep. Then I heard whoever it was climbing down the fire escape.”
“And you didn’t go investigate?”
Jo suddenly becomes very interested in the pattern on Dean’s comforter. “No… I, uh, I left my gun in my room.”
“You could have gotten mi – ” Dean stops short when he heard the footsteps going past the door. He swears and climbs out of bed, reaching underneath it for the Glock. He motions Jo behind him, and he opens the door. “Whoever you are, I want you to know I have a gun and I am not afraid to use it.” There is silence, and then suddenly, a window slams.
Dean and Jo both jump, but then Dean steps out into the hallway, peering around the corner. He turns to Jo, a befuddled expression on his face as he waved her over. “What is it?” she whispers. She gasps as she turns the corner.
Someone has taken the dilapidated little tree they’d bought at the last minute and replaced it with a flourishing and sweet-scented pine. Not only that, but they’ve decorated the place – put up lights and frilly, sparkly things that made the whole room seem a little ethereal, a little magical.
“Did you do this?” Dean looks at Jo accusingly.
“Yeah, I hid all this stuff from you all week long, set it up at three in the morning, and can even do ventriloquism with my feet.” Jo rolls her eyes at him.
“I wouldn’t put it past you,” Dean mutters. He mutters something else, but Jo isn’t listening. Instead, she’s picking something up off the coffee table. It’s a piece of paper or a card or something, and Dean moves over to look at it. She hands it to him silently. It’s on red paper with flourished gold writing. It says simply:
Sometimes even the naughtiest of children deserve a happy Christmas. And sometimes, if people believe hard enough, they’ll get it. -- Nikolaus