#i have another mary ficlet planned for transnatural week let's see if i actually get it done haha | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kosmikowboj · 3 years

Text

somehow managed to finish the first prompt for @spnprideweek before the day was over! I wish this could’ve been longer but alas, I have awful time management. it was still fun to write tho--it’s my first time ever writing Mary’s character, let alone from her POV, and I had a good time :,)

day 1: coming out / flags

friends of dorothy

[read on AO3; word count: 900ish]

Mary didn’t expect things to be how she had left them.

She couldn’t, not when she had been gone so long—decades, written clearly in the lines creasing her child’s face. Soft cheeks she had once pinched between her fingers had solidified into a square jaw, completed by a half-frown set stubbornly into a five o-clock shadow. One of the first things she’d noticed was how little Dean seems to smile now, softening only in the presence of the Biblical angel that has apparently taken root in their bunker. Sam and Dean had seemed to think that would be the part that threw her off the most—the angel named Castiel who lives with them and likes to critique the Food Network—but if she lets her mind go enough, that part makes the most sense. She knows what a life of hunting does to someone, and she also knows how much it means to have someone to hunt with.

Looking at the designer bags under Dean’s eyes, she can only hope Castiel is a better “with” than John was.

The eyes shift as Dean casts an uneasy glance in her direction, swallowing, and it’s then Mary realizes she’s been blatantly scrutinizing him for the past several minutes.

“Take a picture,” he says. “It’ll last longer.”

She sighs, swinging her gaze to look back out the window. On the insistence of Castiel, she’s accompanying Dean to the grocery store, and awkward silence has marked the entirety of their journey thus far. It doesn’t help that she knows she wasn't Dean’s first choice of company; he had wanted to take the angel, to no one’s surprise, but Castiel had insisted he spend some time with his mother to “work things out.” Then he had handed Dean a post-it note that simply read “macaroni with cheese.”

“Look, De—Dean,” she corrects, wincing internally, “when I last saw you, you were four years old and had pigtails. I need some time to adjust.”

“You can adjust without starin’ at me like I’m a two-headed cow.”

“I’m not—”

“You are.”

Mary lets out a dramatic huff and turns back towards Dean, who is staring pointedly at the road. “Can you give me at least a little credit? It’s not like I’m not trying. Between the angel in your TV room and the fact that the 80s are long over, I’ve just been dealing with a lot.”

Dean lets out a slow, heavy sigh, guiding the car through a turn before finally saying, “I know, mom. I know.”

The awkward silence settles again, thick and stifling over the leather upholstery. It almost feels like it could stick, and Mary searches desperately for something to bond over, a sliver of anything that would make this easier. She worries a particular thought back and forth before deciding to chance it, breaking the stillness again.

“Can I ask a different question?”

Dean looks at her warily.

“Go ahead.”

“Are you a homosexual? Is that related at all?”

Dean chokes on his own spit, face going bright red as he struggles to get his breathing under control. As the hacking ebbs, he manages to rasp, “What?”

“You and Castiel. I figured there must be...something.”

“He’s just a friend, ma,” Dean chuckles out half-heartedly, but Mary clocks him immediately. She knows she doesn’t have particularly sharp mothering instincts—she never did, and with her kids suddenly in their late thirties she’s even more out of her depth—but there’s something in the careful lilt of his voice that gives him away even to her.

“Cheryl a few houses down was ‘just a friend,’ too,” she muses, watching as the trees outside fall away and are replaced with fields. The soft, strangled sound next to her makes it clear the implication isn’t lost on Dean, and she turns her gaze back to him. “It’s difficult for me, to understand. To have died with a daughter and be resurrected with a son. But what’s even more difficult for me to understand is how you could possibly think ‘just friends’ look at each other like that.”

“I’m not sure I like this line of interrogation much better,” Dean mutters, cheeks flushing. “So, what, you’re a lesbian?”

Mary laughs at that, shaking her head. “I see you get your tact from me. Or lack thereof.”

“You brought it up.”

“You’re trying to change the subject.” Beat. “I don’t know. I did really like Cheryl. More than I ever…” Mary swallows, looking down at her lap where she’s fidgeting with the fabric of her shirt. “It was complicated. I did like your father, of course I did, but—what I wanted, what I really wanted, didn’t exactly matter then.”

“It should’ve,” Dean says. “Matters now.”

Mary looks up at him, slightly stupified by the simplicity in his words, and smiles. “I suppose it does, doesn’t it? Well, I’ll tell you what: I’ll ask out a girl when you ask out your angel.” “Not happening,” he replies instantly, but there’s something about the relief in his shoulders that tells her he’s lying.

“Look, if I can somehow flirt my way up someone’s skirt before—”

“Aaand this conversation is over. Not talking about this with my mom.”

Mary laughs again. “I suppose at least some things stay the same. Though change...can be good too.”

For the first time since her return, Dean turns that soft smile on Mary.

“I can’t argue with that.”

#spnprideweek #my writing #this was so much fun i wanna write more mary #i have another mary ficlet planned for transnatural week let's see if i actually get it done haha #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #mary winchester #trans dean #bi dean #lesbian mary

74 notes · View notes