Title: Right In Front of Her 1/2
Aug. 8th, 2010 11:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
calie15Title: Right In Front of Her 1/2
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Her eyes were wide, but she never saw what was right in front of her.
Notes: This is my first Supernatural and first Dean/Jo fic. Please, please, please review. Sorry Sly! And thanks Corina for editing it! Oh, and depending on how well this received I'm considering writing it from Dean's POV. Oh, and anything in italics are memories.
She shuddered softly, eyes wide and seeing only what was in front of her, but somehow taking everything in. The room, the furniture, the colors on the walls. Physically she was aware of it all, and then she focused, eyes zeroing in on that one object that had remained in her mind, sometimes in the front, sometimes in the back, but always there. And then time slowed, her breathing became shallow, the room seemed to darken, and she saw only inches in front of her...and then she was aware of it all. She could suddenly see everything that had led her to that point. And if she was honest with herself, she was a fool for not seeing it until now. A fool.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Fuck!” Jo cursed as her body was jostled. She wanted to curse Dean for not being careful as he shouldered past Sam and hit her foot on the door, but she decided against it. Instead she dug her nails into his leather jacket to relieve the flash of pain in her leg, wishing he could feel it, but knowing he couldn’t through the layers...which rather disappointed her.
“Careful!” Sam exclaimed and ran over to the bed, sweeping the bags off the mattress and moving out of Dean’s way.
“I know!” Dean thundered and stopped at the side of the bed, lowering the woman in his arms.
Jo inhaled sharply in anticipation of the pain, but when he slid his arms away and she was able to ease her legs down she sighed.
“Okay,” Sam said as he looked down and sighed, combing his fingers through his hair. “You sure about no hospitals?”
“It looks like an animal attack. That means reports. I mean what the hell am I going to say did this?” Jo held out her hand to her thigh. “I mean it looks like Freddy Kruger got a hold of me.”
“That’s probably closer to the truth.” Dean mumbled and frowned down at the blood seeping through her pants. “We need to stop the bleeding.” He turned away from her and headed towards the bathroom.
Jo glanced up at Sam and noted the contemplative frown on his face. “What?”
He raised his eyes from her leg and met hers. “We need to get a better look at it.”
Without even thinking she moved to the button of her jeans and pulled it through the hole, following with the zipper. Just as she slid her thumbs under the waistband and began to push down Dean exited the bathroom.
“What the hell are you doing?”
He stopped just outside the bathroom doorway, shock fading into something else that she couldn’t quite describe. Turning her eyes to Sam she rolled her eyes, noting the deer in the head light look on his face. “There is no way of seeing this with pants on, lets be logical.” Without waiting for a response she pushed again, lifting the hip opposite of her wound to shimmy out of them. It was a struggle though, and ordinarily she would have asked for help, but the two useless lumps of meat standing around her weren’t going to be of any assistance. “Give me a damn knife?” She turned to Dean, who was finally at her side again. “Give me my knife.”
“Why?” He dropped the towels to the bed and reached into his back pocket for the knife she had dropped during the attack.
Pursing her lips she held out her hand. Luckily, he dropped it there without question. Sliding her hand were zipper parted she sliced the denim a couple of times with the blade before it gave and proceeded to cut them down her leg until she reached her knee. The blood had already stained most of the thigh of her jeans, but as she got a closer look at the two gashes she cursed mentally. “Give me a couple of Percocet and that bottle of bourbon.” She dropped her knife on the mattress and proceeded to ease out of her jeans. Sam was already moving, with her pants at her knees and knowing she would have to move to finish the task she turned to Dean. “Be a peach and take off my pants.” He frowned at her, but did as she asked, moving to the end of the bed and pulling off each shoe. “Besides,” she began, sitting back against the pillows, “I’m sure you’ve been taking off woman’s pants for years.”
“So then I guess tonight is your lucky night.” Dean said with a coked eyebrow and a smirk.
She couldn’t help but grin slowly at the suggestive tone in his voice. It wasn’t until he crawled on the bed, knee moving between her and nudging them apart did her smile falter. His hands wrapped around the underside of her thighs and slowly slid down, taking her pants with them. For the briefest second she forgot about her wound and was focused on the man in front of her. His eyes didn’t break from her, and she could have sworn as he moved her jeans down her legs, slowly, the lack of speed had more to do with something sexual then concern about moving her.
“Jesus Dean come on.” Sam rolled his eyes. When his brother moved away he came to the side of the bed and handed the pills to Jo.
Popping them in her mouth she grabbed the bottle, unscrewed the cap, tossed it somewhere on the floor, and chugged. Ignoring the burn and the way it churned in her empty stomach she looked up at Sam. “Their deep, I need stitches.” The younger brother for the first time seemed to realize she was lying on the bed in only her t-shirt and thong. He gapped slightly, looking from her leg to her face again.
“Stitches?”
She turned her head to the other voice, looking up into Dean’s narrowed eyes. “Stitches.” Grabbing the towel at her side she bent her leg slightly and rested the outside of her leg, exposing the inner side and pressed the white towel against her thigh with a grimace. Taking a quick sip of the bourbon she looked back at Sam. “I know you can do it.”
“I-.” Sam glanced over at Dean then glanced down at her leg again. “Maybe we should go to the hospital.”
Unable to contain herself Jo groaned. “Look, I get it. I’m in my underwear and I have a pretty deep wound somewhere too close for comfort. Next time I’m attacked I’ll keep my legs closed.” She noted the way Sam looked to Dean again. “Stop looking at him! He doesn’t have anything to do with this! I’m bleeding!” Taking a large swig she rested the bottle on the mattress and sighed. “So get the needle and thread and let me get drunk.” But there was another glance from Sam to Dean, like a silent communication between the two that she just couldn’t pick up on. Brothers. Turning her glare on Dean she was shocked to find his face darkened slightly. For some unexplainable reason he seemed more irritated with the situation then she was. “Dean!” His eyes turned on her, hard and angry. The vein in his neck seemed slightly larger than usual and she could swear she could see his jaw moving as if it was clenched. “Whatever is going through that head of yours stop.”
“You heard her.” Dean said evenly and turned away from them, heading straight out the door.
Glaring at the door as he slammed it loudly she growled. “Asshole.”
Fifteen minutes later, water, needle and thread, rags, and gauze and tape ready, she settled on her back on the corner of the bed. She and Sam had come to the consensus during preparation it was the best position. With a little blushing he admitted that it would be best for him to have access to her wound from the side and between her legs.
So there she laid, half clothed, head propped on two pillows, legs parted slightly and hanging off the edge of the bed, chugging on a bottle of bourbon like a common whore. Too bad it was only half a bottle; she really could have used more. “If my mother could only see my now.”
“God I hope not.” Sam mumbled, praying that her mother never found out about the wound and asked how it got stitched.
She giggled, drunk and light headed from the bourbon. “God, I look like some damn drunk whore layin’ here with my legs open.” She heard Sam sigh from his spot near her legs. “So where is asshole at?”
“Who knows, probably better he’s gone anyway.” With another sigh, Sam bent his neck from side to side, a satisfied crack filling the room. “I’m going to clean it.”
“Have your way with me.” When another sigh filled the room and she looked up to the frown on his face she rolled her eyes. “Okay, sorry. I’ll stop with the suggestive words.” The warm towel touched her wound and she jumped. “So why is it better then he isn’t here?”
“If Dean can’t touch then no one else can either. Especially if he has to watch.”
“What?!” She rolled her eyes, shaking her head and tossing back more bourbon. “Don’t be ridiculous. Dean flirts. He’s a man whore. There’s only a fine line that stops him from treating me like the trash at the local bar. But I can guarantee you I really doubt his brother getting close to my lady business to stitch me up really has him upset.”
Sam snorted slightly and shook his head. “I know my brother Jo.”
His words snuck the alcohol fogging her brain and for a brief moment in the silence of their room she tried to sort out what he meant. Before she had a chance though the door opened, revealing the man her thoughts were currently focused on. Keys landed on the table and before she had the time to glare at him he was pulling a bottle from a paper bag. She watched him in silence as he unscrewed the top, tossed it onto the table and walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge of it next to her good leg. When he grabbed her bottle she opened her mouth to exclaim, but quickly he thrust the full bottle into her hand and chugged the rest of her bottle. Bleary eyed, she smiled up at him tiredly. “I knew you cared.”
Dean rolled his eyes and tossed the empty bottle to the floor and reaching for one of the cold beers he dropped on the floor. “Don’t get weepy eyed on my now.”
Sam glanced up at Jo, noting the silly grin on her face. “Trust you Jo to get all sentimental because someone bought you a bottle of bourbon when you get stitches in a motel room.”
It was rather funny she realized as she looked down her body at Sam’s exasperated face. He was threading the needle, but she couldn’t help but smile anyway. Turning her face back to Dean she found him smirking slightly. Being drunk it was easy to pretend that he was actually smiling because maybe that was why he liked her. Taking a huge chug of the bottle, swallowing and then taking another she dropped her head back to the pillow. “I’m going to be hungover.”
“You’ve had stitches before.” Dean reasoned, eyes moving briefly to the gash inside her thigh then back to the needle in Sam’s hand.
She opened her eyes, not even realizing she had closed them, and stared up at him.
“Yea, but the inside of my thigh?”
He shrugged and took a sip of the beer. “Good point.”
“Alright.” Same proclaimed and moved onto his knees, crawling to the side of Jo’s body. “You need to...just...” He sighed and pinched his nose briefly before dropping his hand. “Pull your leg up and press your knee into the mattress.”
She did as instructed, taking another demanding chug from the bottle. Cringing when her stomach rolled. The room spun and she dropped her head back to the mattress. Her lids were heavy and she swore that the room spun. The first prick shocked her and she gasped, wincing slightly. Something was on her knee. The needle went through and she winced, trying to ignore the pain, fighting down a cry and barely escaped. The bottle was gone from her hands, she probably was too drunk to lift it anyway. Another stick, this time her body jolted slightly in shock. Something across her good leg and along the length of her body. When a hand wrapped around her arm she rolled her head from side to side and opened her eyes, finding Dean’s peering down at her. It was his hand on her bent knee holding it into the bed, his leg across her good one stopping her body from moving away from the needle, his body lying on his side next to her and his hand grasping her arm holding her down. She shuddered as she needle pierced her skin again and squeezed her eyes shut. Jo Harvelle wouldn’t cry, Harvelle woman didn’t cry.
“Jo, you killed some Freddy Kruger look alike and are getting stitches by my brother in some back woods motel. If you want to shed a tear I’m not going to hold it against you.”
When she looked up at him the tears had already escaped the corners of her eyes and during a brief pause on Sam’s end she smiled. “You’re all full of nice things today.”
“Well I figure if I get to grope a half naked woman...”
She would have sworn he smiled, didn’t smirk. A genuine smile that was maybe a bit too sweet for the normal Dean Winchester grin, but she was drunk. With a shaky sigh, and unable to see clearly, she turned her head towards him. He wasn’t close enough that she could bury her face into his chest, but she could smell him, feel his body around her. The needle pierced her skin again and she shuddered, trying to breathe deeply as it slid through. Lips pressed against her temple and she would have sworn he shushed her softly and whispered to her that everything would be okay, but she could never be sure.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She clicked her tongue softly, swinging the bag in her hand and balancing the box in her other. Everything was silent besides the random whizz of a car flying down the highway miles away. A couple of men sat outside their room, eying her as she walked along the road from the corner store in front of their motel. She had her gun and her knife, they wouldn’t get far if they were going to try anything. Besides, Dean had pretty rudely told the men, who had been following her with their eyes as she, Dean and Sam unloaded the car, “If you even look at her again I’m going to shove your head so far up your ass you won’t see the light of day for years.” So although they looked now, she figured that they wouldn’t try much else.
Sliding the hand of the bag down her arm and balancing the box in the hand on the same side she used her free one to dig out her key and quickly entered the room. “Damn it’s muggy out there.”
“It’s the south.” Dean reasoned. “What the hell took so long.”
“I was gone ten minutes. Where’s Sam?” She inquired as she dropped the beer on the table and settled the box down carefully.
“Said he was tired of my shit and didn’t care if it was my birthday.” Dean shrugged and stood up from the bed, making his way over to the table and plopping into the chair. “Took off for a bit.” Grabbing a beer he popped the top off and glanced at the other bag. Eyes widening slowly he turned them back up to her. “Is that pie?”
She grinned at the obvious excitement on his face. “Maybe.” But she was already reaching into the bag, pulling out the napkins and plastic silverware she snagged at the store and then the box. “For the birthday boy.”
“God I knew there was a reason I let you come along.” He groaned and reached for the box, ripping the top off.
“I only ask for one piece, the rest is yours.” Grabbing the plastic butter knife she cut one slice and lifted it onto a napkin. “Unless you want to save some for Sam.”
“He’s on his own.”
Jo didn’t bother arguing, only shook her head and toed off her shoes before grabbing the beer and walking towards the mini fridge. When she turned Dean was already back on the bed, pie tin in his lap and a spoon in his hand. “You're like a big kid.”
“Didn’t we already establish that?”
“I guess.” Moving back to the table she grabbed her pie and walked around the bed, stopped at the empty side and sat down. After propping up a pillow she leaned back. With her small portion on her stomach she ate silently, watching him out of the corner of her eye. “Are you really going to eat that whole thing?” He turned to her, mouth full. “Stupid question.”
They remained like that for some time, saying very little. Eventually Jo got up, went to the bathroom and stripped off her clothes, pulling on shorts and a t-shirt. When she came back out Dean hadn’t moved much. His shoes and pie box were gone and he was slumped further into the pillow, but she didn’t believe for one minute he had moved off the bed.
The other bed was hers. Sometimes they had separate rooms. But when they were on the road sleeping in dingy motels they usually stayed in the same room. Her bed furthest from the door. She argued about it once, not wanting to be shoved into the corner. Dean had promptly told her to follow his rules or leave then stormed out. Sam sighed at the door that shut behind his brother and turned to her. “He’d rather be between you and the door Jo.” So she dropped it.
With a silent decision made she walked across the floor and sat on his bed, kicking off her flip flops. If he thought it was strange that she was settling down next to him he didn’t say anything. So she grabbed her blanket off her bed, the same old one she’d been lugging around since she started hunting, and threw it over her body, “Nothing from Sam?”
“Text him while you were primping. Said he was hanging out at a local bar, trying to figure out if we were on the right path or not.” He shrugged and folded one arm behind his head, eyes never leaving the TV.
“Isn’t hitting up the bars your thing?” He turned his head, looking down at her with a smirk, his eyes shining slightly, as if she had said something funny.
“I’m not leaving you here alone.”
She rolled her eyes at his poor excuse. God forbid he might enjoy her company. Once again it came down to her inability to take care of herself. She shouldn’t have bought him that pie. Maybe she should go to her own bed. Instead she settled for huffing slightly and turning onto her stomach, looking down the bed at the TV. “Don’t do me any favors,” she grumbled. “I wouldn’t want to deprive you of sampling the locals.”
Jo felt him move and just as she turned her head to see where he was going he was on his side facing her, leaving over her just slightly so that she had to actually look up at him.
“Why would I go hit on women when I have one here who buys me pie?”
There was something joking about his words and tone, but there was something else. From the way he lay against her to the deep tone of his voice. Instead of remaining irritated with him, she let it go and smiled softly up at him. Getting mad at him was easy, but Jo couldn’t resist him when he turned the charm on. “Happy Birthday Dean.”
When she woke the next morning the first thing Jo realized as she woke was heat and the realization that she had never woken to move. So when she opened her eyes she wasn’t surprised to find Dean. What she was surprised about was their proximity. They weren’t really touching, but they were lying on their sides facing one another. Her knees were pulled up in a fetal position, her body curled into his own, snuggled close enough that she could feel the heat of his body.
As she slowly unfolded her legs, brushing his as she did saw, his eyes snapped open, stilling her movements.
Seconds passed, then Jo hesitantly smiled. “Hey.” At first there was no response, he just stared at her and just when she decided she had to get away from his hard stare he smiled and it made her breath catch. Because Dean Winchester smiling in the morning was different. It was sleepy, endearing, sexy and made her feel as if it should have been followed up with a kiss. Jo hated him for being able to do that to her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jo smiled at the young hunter. She’d met him a few times over the past few months. He usually worked on the opposite side of the country, but had somehow made his way across and had walked into the Roadhouse for the first time about five months ago. She wasn’t always working, sometimes hunting, but when she was, and he passed through they’d spend their time talking at the Roadhouse, he’d hang around until closing time and then leave. Smiling at her, telling her he was glad he got to see her and moving on.
So she’d went on a hunt five days ago with Dean and Sam and had finally rolled back into the Roadhouse, slightly bruised, but alive.
It was a pleasant surprise to see Clive sitting at the bar chatting with her mom. No bar slut at his side, just sitting there with his boyish grin, slightly spiky blond hair, cleanly shaven, neat clothes, bear in hand and chatting with her mother. So different from the man that walked beside her, grumbling and cursing, clothes wrinkled from two days travel, old leather jacket, brown hair mussed, stubble covering this face.
Begging a couple of minutes to clean up and promising to meet Clive in a few minutes she quickly showered, dried her hair and dressed, and applied minimal makeup before meeting him at the bar. She passed Dean, only a few seats away, who glanced at her and rolled his eyes. Screw him.
“Are you working tonight?” Clive asked, leaning on his side against the bar with his arm propped on it.
“Nah.” She sipped her beer. “After that hunt I need the night off. Been in the car for two days strait with these two peaches.” She gestured behind her. Clive turned to look down the bar at Dean and Sam and his easy smile faltered slightly and she regretted mentioning her long trip with Sam and Dean. Clive had asked about her hunt, and it would have been hard to lie that she had gone off with them for it when he saw her walk in the door and her mother’s ecstatic welcome home. So Jo was honest, but she couldn’t help but wonder what he thought about her being alone with two attractive men her age for five days strait. The Winchester brother’s of all people. Dean’s reputation proceeded him. But Clive said nothing, asked no questions.
“Do you want to get out of here? I could use some dinner and I’m sure you might appreciate something besides bar food for a change. My treat. And I promise to have you home by midnight.”
She smiled brightly, appreciating the fact that there was no lame attempt to get into her pants. Sure, the thought may have crossed his mind, it had crossed hers, but at least that didn’t seem to be the only thing on his mind. Clive genuinely seemed to want to get to know her, spend time with her.
“Give me five minutes.” He nodded and she hopped down off the bar stool to head to the back.
When she came back he was gone. She looked around, eyes finding the bathroom, expecting to see him exit it at any moment, but he didn’t. “Mom,” she stopped at the bar where she left Clive, noting that nothing hinted that he ever sat there. “Where’s Clive?”
She sighed, rolling her eyes irritably and nodded to her side. “Ask your concerned friend.” Jo noticed the way she emphasized concerned.
When she turned in the direction her mother nodded she found Dean and Sam. Dean didn’t seem as if anything was amiss, nursing his beer and peering out at the crowd before him. Sam though fidgeted, nervously looking at her and away again. “Dean,” Jo warned and advanced on him. “What did you do?”
“Nothing.” He shrugged. “Just talked to your friend Clive for a bit while you were gone. Nice guy, but he didn’t stick around very long.”
“You talked to him?” She asked, drawing out every word slowly. “What-did-you-say.”
“I don’t know.” Dean shrugged again and chugged his beer. “Ellen, can I get another.”
Jo glanced at her mother, for any hint of what had happened, but only caught the disappointed frown that she aimed at Dean as she put another beer down. “What did you say?” She asked again as she turned to him.
“I don’t remember.”
When Dean Winchester set his mind to something there was no changing it. Getting an answer out of him wasn’t going to happen. “I am so tired of you pulling this over bearing shit on me Dean Winchester. If you ever interfere in my life again like that I swear I am going to break your arm. You’re a fucking asshole.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” He mumbled.
With that she turned to leave, but she still caught snippets of their conversation before she got far enough away.
“What the fuck did you say Dean?” Sam questioned. “You had him hightailing it out of here.”
“Boy you are in for a world of trouble.” Her mother added and she was right.
“You can’t always run them off Dean,” Sam’s response was the last thing heard as she headed to her room and the last thing she thought of when she fell asleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She tossed and turned, still on edge from the hunt. It didn’t help that she was actually staying in a five star hotel. Sometimes there were perks to a hunt. This being ridding a five star hotel of a rather nasty ghost. The owner had been very grateful to say the least, putting them up in his best rooms.
Of course she wasn’t used to such excess and found it a bit hard to wrap her mind around. With a sigh she grabbed her phone and stared at it, debating on what to do. She didn’t want to go out and drink, although she highly suspected that was what Dean and Sam were doing. He’d pick up some random woman, bring her back to his expensive hotel room and screw her. The thought made her stomach turn. With a sigh she found his name.
“Aren’t all good little girls supposed to be in bed?”
She couldn’t help but grin at his question, and relieved that he had answered. “Maybe, but I’m not tired. What are you doing?”
“Trying to order a movie. Can’t decide between porn or action.”
Jo rolled her eyes, deciding not to take the bait. “If you aren’t tired of me yet mind choosing action and I’ll watch it with you?”
He sighed. “That means I have to get up and let you in. Hurry up.”
She grinned and ended the phone call, jumping out of bed and hurrying out the room.
When she knocked on his door he was prompt with answering, holding a finger to his lips as he let her in, phone pressed to his ear. After he shut the door she followed him as he made his way through the spacious living room.
“I want a cheeseburger, medium, fries. Do you have pie? What kind? Give me both. A chocolate shake too. Actually make that two burgers.” He pulled the phone from his mouth and turned to her as they walked through the hallway. “You?”
“French toast with butter and powdered sugar. Oh and chocolate milk.” He nodded and relayed her order, asking her only how she wanted her eggs and if she wanted bacon or sausage. They finally came to the bedroom, the TV loud, surround sound turned up. A couple of beer bottles littering the bed stand, clothes strewn off a couple of chairs, bag opened in the corner with more clothes spilling out. “Made yourself at home I see.”
“Yea well...gave the maid the day off.” He threw himself on the large king size bed, settling back against the large plush pillows.
There was a moment were she paused, unsure about crawling in the bed with him. They’ve sat in the same bed before, watching movies in hotel rooms, but usually Sam was around. This time Sam was most likely sleeping in his own room. With a mental shrug she moved forward. The bed was big enough for two.
Three hours later Jo was pleasantly full, they were into their second action flick and she was burrowed under the covers to keep away the chill. Hotel rooms were cold, she was going to say that much. With a yawn she turned on her side, pulling the thick comforter up to her neck. Dean was still awake, eyes open, lights from the TV flashing across his face in the darkness. His head turned and he was facing her. “Passing out on me?”
“I’m tired.” She reasoned and sighed. “I should probably head back and go to sleep.”
“Just go to sleep. I’m sure I can keep my hands to myself.”
He smirked at her, his face even more handsome as he did so. With a small snort she shut her eyes and let sleep take her. His presence at her side should have bothered her, instead it just felt nice, knowing he was there.
Noise drew her from sleep at some point. She felt the bed dip next her, a cold draft moving underneath the blanket causing her to shiver. The noise from the TV silenced and then she felt movement. Cold, she was cold. The blanket slid up her body, but not by her own hands. She sighed as the cold air was shielded from her body, as something even warmer pressed against her. Then it moved and she scooted closer. Sleep still clouded her mind, but when she felt an arm around her waist her eyes shot open.
Dean, it was Dean. She knew that. They were in the hotel, in his bed, and his body was pressed against her, arm around her waist. Jo should have pulled away, because sleeping like that, it wasn’t something friends did. But it felt good. He was warm, firm, smelled so good that her eyes began to shut of their own accord. With a sigh and scooted closer, his arm tightened around her, and she buried her face into his chest. His hand moved up and down her back slowly, soothing her back to sleep. Jo sighed, relaxing against him, not caring at the wrongness of their situation or what it meant.
Fingers trailed over her temple, long hair tickling her face as it slid away and then she felt his lips against her forehead. Without even thinking she shifted closer, her legs tangling with his, needing the physical contact and the feeling of protection he provided.
She only woke once in the middle of the night to feel his chest pressed against her back, arm still tightly around her waist, face buried in her neck so close that she could feel his warm breath caressing her. She pressed herself into his body and slid her hand to cover his. His hand clenched slightly and then he relaxed. With a sigh she fell back asleep.
When she woke in the morning he was gone from the bed. She found him in the living room, stuffing his face again, a plate of French toast, butter and powdered sugar, scrambled eggs and bacon sitting in the empty seat to his right.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“You two?”
“Well,” Ellen drug the word out slowly. “It won’t be expecting us. It’s seen you and Sam, has your scents. I know you boys have being handling this from the beginning and want to finish it, but you asked for our help, and I think if the two of you go in, our cover will be blown before we’re within a mile of the town.”
“She’s right Dean, let us just see what happens,” Jo said softly. Normally she could care less about tip toeing around his anger and temper, but she could see he was on edge, and sometimes brute force didn’t work with him.
“See what-?” He snapped his mouth shut and groaned, bending his neck from side to side, two satisfying pops breaking the silence. “It’s killed five people, you don’t just see what happens. And no offense sweetheart, but it got a handle on us, so I’m not that confident about the two of you going in alone.”
“They’re right Dean.”
Jo turned at the sound of Sam, momentarily shocked at the other Winchester’s agreement.
“We know what doesn’t work now. The job isn’t any less dangerous, but at least we know what has to be done. Jo and Ellen might be able to take care of it.”
More silence. Jo had avoided his eyes, instead focused on cleaning her gun, but when the silence became too much she looked up, meeting his eyes. His face was bare of emotion, but she could see the stormy anger in his hardened eyes, the tension in his jaw, the way the vein in his neck became more pronounced until finally he stood up, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
“Yea, fine, whatever.”
Then he was gone, slamming the door behind him, making her mother jump. Jo rolled her eyes and turned back to her gun.
“Does he do that often?” Ellen inquired as she turned away from the door.
Sam sighed. “Too often. Let’s get to work.”
An hour later, details and plans laid out, Jo and Ellen were heading out. Her eyes swept the parking lot for Dean, and finally spotted him sitting in his car. For a moment she debated on whether to leave him there, pouting in his own misery. But she’d long ago given up playing games with him, it was useless and a waste of time, and the easiest way to disarm Dean was just to ignore his behavior like you would a petulant child.
Turning towards her mom she told her she’d meet her by the car and then headed towards the Impala. When he pulled on the passenger side handle she was relieved to find it unlocked. Sliding in next to him she shut the door and turned to face him. His eyes remained trained ahead, face still hard and emotionless. As his hand raised she finally noticed the long neck in his hand as he took a sip then lowered the bottle back down to settle between his legs. The music was too loud as always, and usually it didn’t bother her, but she had something to say. Wary of him verbally striking out at her as she reached for the knob, she released a sigh when he said nothing as the sound lowered.
“Look, I know you don’t think we can handle it. But Dean, I’m not the same girl I was before, I’m not going to run into a job without thinking I have a chance. If I thought there wasn’t one then we wouldn’t be doing it this way. But as it is there is a chance, and also a chance that if the two of you come along we’ll be made and lose our last chance at surprising this thing.” She paused waited for any kind of response, but received none. “Just trust me okay?” With that she reached for the handle, she pulled and it clicked and then she felt his hand on her other wrist, pulling her back. She turned, surprised slightly, expecting him to tell her that she had no idea what she was getting into, but the hard look was gone from his eyes and she would have sworn they softened slightly..
“Just...be careful,” Dean said lowly, his brow drawn together slightly.
She smiled softly at him and nodded. His hand fell away and she exited the car.
“Jo.”
Second time he called her back, it wasn’t like him. She leaned down, folding her arms inside the window and poked her head through. “Yea?”
“I don’t care if the damn thing does know we’re coming. If something happens, and you can’t get out, call me. Do you understand?” He said firmly, the hardness back in his eyes again.
It felt like there was something else there in his request, but she shook it off, refusing to believe it was anything more. “Okay.” And then she turned again, the music blaring again behind her as she walked away.
As it turned out there wasn’t just one of those damn sick little bastards like they thought, there were two, and Dean was called, just not by Jo. Ellen had to make the frantic phone call after it grabbed her, dragging her away to feed on at a later time.
She sat in the darkness for hours, cold and damp, with the smell of death surrounding her. Bones, flesh, guts, hair, blood, all sprinkled throughout the basement of the half human half monster thing that was holding her for dinner.
Sam always said Dean made mistakes when he went in half cocked, but he also said when he was pissed he was more than likely to gun and beat the shit out of something and send it straight to hell.
As her mother checked her over and she surveyed the damage done inside the old empty house, the blood and bits of gore covering her mother, Sam and Dean. Dean was off to the side his leather jacket hanging in his hand as he wiped it with an old rag, cursing about blood and monsters that explode. She turned to Sam in confusion. “What happened?”
Sam shrugged nonchalantly. “He was pissed.”
Hours later, after everyone had showered and Jo laid in her bed, staring up at the ceiling in the darkness, counting her blessings, knowing that at that moment she would have been dead, eaten.
The ding of her phone broke her trance. Reaching for it she activated the screen to see a text.
‘You up?’
Jo glanced at her sleeping mother then back at her phone and quickly responded with an affirmative.
‘Meet me outside.’
Careful not to wake her mother, Jo slid on a pair of flip flops, grabbed the key and exited the room. It took her only seconds to find Dean leaning against the front of his car, ankles crossed and arms crossed over his broad chest. As she made her way towards him, the only sound being the rocks and sand crunching beneath her shoes, she couldn’t help but be wary of him. After the thing had been killed he hadn’t said a word to her and when they got back he had gone straight to his room, not glancing back at anyone, leaving Ellen bewildered and Sam frowning. He had been mad. “Hey.”
He said nothing at first, she leaned back against his car, a few inches between them.
“Are you okay?” He asked, voice low and slightly scratchy.
“Yea, a little creeped out I guess. That thing, the basement, it was all kind of gross.” He nodded, but didn’t say much else. There was obviously something on his mind. Dean knew she was okay, there was no reason for him to call her out. “Thanks for coming. I guess you were right,” she relented. Although she wasn’t sure if the situation would have been any better if they had come in the beginning. “I seem to always be getting myself kidnapped and having you come in and rescue me. I guess I’m not as good as I thought,” Jo added solemnly.
“What?”
Jo turned her head to face him, surprised at the slight disgust and confusion on his face.
“You were right,” she sighed, “I should have listened to you, I-.” He moved suddenly, grabbing her arm, and pulling her from the car to face him as he turned his body to mirror hers.
“This isn’t what this is about. We made the best out of the shitty job we had. There was no way to just go and get the job done. The only reason we were able to take that thing was because your mom and you had already beat the shit out of it. It hadn’t eaten, it was waiting for you to get weak, fall asleep, it was weakened. That was why we were able to catch it.”
“But I almost got myself killed,” Jo argued. “Isn’t that what you are always saying? Isn’t that why you’re mad? I always try to get myself killed and you have to haul my ass out of there?”
“You scared the shit out of my Jo. It would have been any of us. Not could, would. I know you’re a good hunter, you’re a damn good one. What pisses me off is that I know you’re just as likely to lose your life one day to this, just as much as much as I am, and it scares the shit out of me.”
As usual, she had him pegged wrong. There had been things that she had assumed about him lately, things about his attitude, what he felt, and she’d been wrong. It was odd, because she used to have his number, but now....something was off about him.
Those thoughts were second to her feelings on what he just said. In almost one breath he’d told her she was a good hunter, but even more surprisingly he’d told her how much he was scared of her dying. She’d assumed that his anger had been over not being in on the hunt, believing she wasn’t good enough to take care of it and eventually having to save her. But none of that was it. Dean was simply scared she would get killed. Which confused the hell out of her, because Sam could just as easily get killed, but Dean did nothing to hold his brother back. It was different to him somehow. It was different for her. When she wasn’t hunting with them she did get worried about him, and depended on Sam’s reports more so then Dean’s sporadic phone calls to give her piece of mind. But it didn’t appear to be as bad for her. Maybe because she’d met him and he was a hunter, had always been a hunter, one of the best. When Dean had met her she was just a girl at a bar.
Within the short seconds that she stood there, trying to find something to say, she finally settled on one thing. “I’m sorry.” And she meant it. Jo hadn’t realized what went through his head. Dean Winchester wasn’t exactly an open book. But she would never have assumed that the thought of her getting killed bothered him. Would she have been more careful? No. She was a hunter, and she knew he wouldn’t have asked her not to be one. But she would have phrased things differently, reassured him in ways.
His face was still intense, his arm still gripped on her arm. Slowly, she lifted a hand up, not even realizing what the physical gesture would imply. “Dean...” Her fingers brushed his stubble chin and her palm just touched his cheek when he dropped his hand and turned his face from hers. An emptiness was left in the wake of his hand and eyes on her. One she wasn’t exactly comfortable with. Instead she pushed it away, ignoring it, knowing what it could mean.
“I guess technically it’s your birthday.” Dean glanced down at his watch.
“Well if you want to be technical I was born at 3:11 p.m.” His eyes glanced up at her first and she smiled. “But yea.”
“I’ve got something for you.”
She watched him turn away. “Aw, Dean you shouldn’t have. I doubt pie. What is it? Bullets, salt, brand new fake FBI badge?”
“Don’t be smart.”
With his back turned to her still as he opened the door and reached for something she rolled her eyes. Obviously he still wasn’t back to his old smart ass self so she sighed and was determined to tone it back, at least for the night. It had taken a lot for him to admit what he did, she figured she should at least respect that.
“Close your eyes. What did you lose during your hunt?”
Jo groaned, eyes closed. “Don’t remind me. It’s going to take a fair amount of hustling to replace those weapons.”
“What have I told you about that?”
Jo sighed, knowing that he was referring to her habit of hustling money. He swore up and down she was going to get in trouble one day and no one was going to be there to help her out of it. Each time she’d taken offense to it, now though...she understood. “I know. I won’t do it on my own anymore if it makes you feel better.”
He said nothing, so she assumed they had reached a compromise. She’d still play poker on her own, but she supposed she wouldn’t take them for all they were worth, using her cute, innocent appearance to disarm them, fool them.
Her thoughts were interrupted when she felt his hand surrounding hers, pulling it up. The unexpected physical contact made her breath hitch in her throat slightly and the last thing Jo needed was for him to see the effect he could have on her.
Cool metal touched her hand and when she wrapped her hand around it she immediately recognized the feeling of a hand gun. Eyes popping open she looked down to have her suspicions confirmed. But it wasn’t just any gun...
“You're shitting me right? Pulling my leg?”
He rolled his eyes in response. “Leave it to you to look a gift horse in the mouth.”
“But, but...” No....there was no way.
“Just take it Jo, stop making a big damn deal about it.” He grumbled and turned away.
She watched him, mouth gaping open as she turned and slammed the passenger door shut.
“I’m going to head to bed, long drive tomorrow.”
Dean was an emotional roller coaster that she could barely even hold on to and could never know when it was going to go up or down. Normally if he wanted to run off with a dark cloud hanging over his head she’d let him, but not this time, not with this gun in her hand.
“Dean wait.” Jo hurried after him, determined to follow him into his room if she had to. “You can’t just drop this in my hand and walk off, and I can’t just take it like that. This is your gun, your favorite gun, your Colt. I just...I just...I can’t. I know you don’t want to...I know-.”
“You don’t know.” He said firmly, eyes narrowed on her.
The tenseness was back in him, and she could tell he was trying to tell her it wasn’t up for discussion. What Jo wanted to know was why, but since he didn’t volunteer a reason, she figured he didn’t want to give one. Dean would never part with his Colt willingly, and she couldn’t even begin to understand his reasons. The possible answers lay somewhere in the back of her mind, a place she filed away strange behavior, unnerving looks and unexpected words. His fear for her life and the gift that laid in her hand would be placed there. “Dean...” She tried again, a last time.
“Don’t lose it Jo.” He said simply and turned again to leave, but she grabbed his arm, pulling him back around.
Unsure about her decision, she plundered forward, pressing herself against him and wrapping an arm around his neck, raising onto her toes, the gun pressed between their chests. “Thank you,” she whispered softly into his ear. His body was tense, but she could have sworn she could feel it slowly relax and then she felt his arms, not loose or his hands patting her back kindly. They enveloped her wrapping around her waist and the middle of her back. One hand pressing into her shoulder, the other wrapping around the side of her waist. Her feet lifted slightly from the ground, toes just brushing it and she held on tighter, resting her head on his shoulder. She felt his breath on her neck, face against it and she shuddered, squeezing her eyes shut at the feeling and trying to tell herself that Dean was just hugging her back, that maybe he wasn’t squeezing her, burying his face into her neck because he wanted to, but because he was grateful she was alive.
The embrace lasted seconds and then she heard him sigh, knowing it was coming to an end. As they pulled away she already felt the loss of his arms. Without thinking she pressed her lips to his cheek, close to the corner of his mouth. “Thank you.”
Their eyes met, faces only inches from one another and she felt her stomach drop at the implications of their position, the closeness of it, the fact that neither one had moved, the way his eyes flickered down and then up again, and then he grinned and somehow she knew the moment was gone.
“At least people will take you more seriously now.” With her own matching grin she shoved at his shoulder.
But then the teasing grin fell and he leaned forward, dropping his lips to her forehead, pressing a kiss against it and lowered his head so that his eyes met hers. “Take care of yourself Jo.”
All she could do was nod, because she knew he meant it. Dean wasn’t just saying it as a goodbye because her and her mother were talking off in the morning going one way, while he and Sam went another. Now she understood.
“And if you need me...” He left it hanging, eyebrows raised..
“I’ll call,” she finished for him softly, heart clenching with some unknown emotion. He nodded in return, then dropped his head to the side of hers. Slowly, his hand traveled up her back and grasped her neck gently. His breath came in warm puffs against her neck and then she felt his lips against her cheek. The contact made her inhale sharply and she felt his hands tighten on her waist and neck. Then they fell away, he stepped back and the moment was over.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Dean said gruffly and then turned to leave. This time she didn’t stop him, watching his back as he walked back to his motel room with Sam and disappeared behind the door. Slowly, Jo turned her eyes down to the Colt still clenched in her hand, pressed against her chest. Lowering her hand she relaxed her fingers and opened them to stare down at the ivory handle and detailed engravings. All she could do was stand there and try to swallow past the lump building in her throat.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Her eyes were wide, but she never saw what was right in front of her.
Notes: This is my first Supernatural and first Dean/Jo fic. Please, please, please review. Sorry Sly! And thanks Corina for editing it! Oh, and depending on how well this received I'm considering writing it from Dean's POV. Oh, and anything in italics are memories.
She shuddered softly, eyes wide and seeing only what was in front of her, but somehow taking everything in. The room, the furniture, the colors on the walls. Physically she was aware of it all, and then she focused, eyes zeroing in on that one object that had remained in her mind, sometimes in the front, sometimes in the back, but always there. And then time slowed, her breathing became shallow, the room seemed to darken, and she saw only inches in front of her...and then she was aware of it all. She could suddenly see everything that had led her to that point. And if she was honest with herself, she was a fool for not seeing it until now. A fool.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Fuck!” Jo cursed as her body was jostled. She wanted to curse Dean for not being careful as he shouldered past Sam and hit her foot on the door, but she decided against it. Instead she dug her nails into his leather jacket to relieve the flash of pain in her leg, wishing he could feel it, but knowing he couldn’t through the layers...which rather disappointed her.
“Careful!” Sam exclaimed and ran over to the bed, sweeping the bags off the mattress and moving out of Dean’s way.
“I know!” Dean thundered and stopped at the side of the bed, lowering the woman in his arms.
Jo inhaled sharply in anticipation of the pain, but when he slid his arms away and she was able to ease her legs down she sighed.
“Okay,” Sam said as he looked down and sighed, combing his fingers through his hair. “You sure about no hospitals?”
“It looks like an animal attack. That means reports. I mean what the hell am I going to say did this?” Jo held out her hand to her thigh. “I mean it looks like Freddy Kruger got a hold of me.”
“That’s probably closer to the truth.” Dean mumbled and frowned down at the blood seeping through her pants. “We need to stop the bleeding.” He turned away from her and headed towards the bathroom.
Jo glanced up at Sam and noted the contemplative frown on his face. “What?”
He raised his eyes from her leg and met hers. “We need to get a better look at it.”
Without even thinking she moved to the button of her jeans and pulled it through the hole, following with the zipper. Just as she slid her thumbs under the waistband and began to push down Dean exited the bathroom.
“What the hell are you doing?”
He stopped just outside the bathroom doorway, shock fading into something else that she couldn’t quite describe. Turning her eyes to Sam she rolled her eyes, noting the deer in the head light look on his face. “There is no way of seeing this with pants on, lets be logical.” Without waiting for a response she pushed again, lifting the hip opposite of her wound to shimmy out of them. It was a struggle though, and ordinarily she would have asked for help, but the two useless lumps of meat standing around her weren’t going to be of any assistance. “Give me a damn knife?” She turned to Dean, who was finally at her side again. “Give me my knife.”
“Why?” He dropped the towels to the bed and reached into his back pocket for the knife she had dropped during the attack.
Pursing her lips she held out her hand. Luckily, he dropped it there without question. Sliding her hand were zipper parted she sliced the denim a couple of times with the blade before it gave and proceeded to cut them down her leg until she reached her knee. The blood had already stained most of the thigh of her jeans, but as she got a closer look at the two gashes she cursed mentally. “Give me a couple of Percocet and that bottle of bourbon.” She dropped her knife on the mattress and proceeded to ease out of her jeans. Sam was already moving, with her pants at her knees and knowing she would have to move to finish the task she turned to Dean. “Be a peach and take off my pants.” He frowned at her, but did as she asked, moving to the end of the bed and pulling off each shoe. “Besides,” she began, sitting back against the pillows, “I’m sure you’ve been taking off woman’s pants for years.”
“So then I guess tonight is your lucky night.” Dean said with a coked eyebrow and a smirk.
She couldn’t help but grin slowly at the suggestive tone in his voice. It wasn’t until he crawled on the bed, knee moving between her and nudging them apart did her smile falter. His hands wrapped around the underside of her thighs and slowly slid down, taking her pants with them. For the briefest second she forgot about her wound and was focused on the man in front of her. His eyes didn’t break from her, and she could have sworn as he moved her jeans down her legs, slowly, the lack of speed had more to do with something sexual then concern about moving her.
“Jesus Dean come on.” Sam rolled his eyes. When his brother moved away he came to the side of the bed and handed the pills to Jo.
Popping them in her mouth she grabbed the bottle, unscrewed the cap, tossed it somewhere on the floor, and chugged. Ignoring the burn and the way it churned in her empty stomach she looked up at Sam. “Their deep, I need stitches.” The younger brother for the first time seemed to realize she was lying on the bed in only her t-shirt and thong. He gapped slightly, looking from her leg to her face again.
“Stitches?”
She turned her head to the other voice, looking up into Dean’s narrowed eyes. “Stitches.” Grabbing the towel at her side she bent her leg slightly and rested the outside of her leg, exposing the inner side and pressed the white towel against her thigh with a grimace. Taking a quick sip of the bourbon she looked back at Sam. “I know you can do it.”
“I-.” Sam glanced over at Dean then glanced down at her leg again. “Maybe we should go to the hospital.”
Unable to contain herself Jo groaned. “Look, I get it. I’m in my underwear and I have a pretty deep wound somewhere too close for comfort. Next time I’m attacked I’ll keep my legs closed.” She noted the way Sam looked to Dean again. “Stop looking at him! He doesn’t have anything to do with this! I’m bleeding!” Taking a large swig she rested the bottle on the mattress and sighed. “So get the needle and thread and let me get drunk.” But there was another glance from Sam to Dean, like a silent communication between the two that she just couldn’t pick up on. Brothers. Turning her glare on Dean she was shocked to find his face darkened slightly. For some unexplainable reason he seemed more irritated with the situation then she was. “Dean!” His eyes turned on her, hard and angry. The vein in his neck seemed slightly larger than usual and she could swear she could see his jaw moving as if it was clenched. “Whatever is going through that head of yours stop.”
“You heard her.” Dean said evenly and turned away from them, heading straight out the door.
Glaring at the door as he slammed it loudly she growled. “Asshole.”
Fifteen minutes later, water, needle and thread, rags, and gauze and tape ready, she settled on her back on the corner of the bed. She and Sam had come to the consensus during preparation it was the best position. With a little blushing he admitted that it would be best for him to have access to her wound from the side and between her legs.
So there she laid, half clothed, head propped on two pillows, legs parted slightly and hanging off the edge of the bed, chugging on a bottle of bourbon like a common whore. Too bad it was only half a bottle; she really could have used more. “If my mother could only see my now.”
“God I hope not.” Sam mumbled, praying that her mother never found out about the wound and asked how it got stitched.
She giggled, drunk and light headed from the bourbon. “God, I look like some damn drunk whore layin’ here with my legs open.” She heard Sam sigh from his spot near her legs. “So where is asshole at?”
“Who knows, probably better he’s gone anyway.” With another sigh, Sam bent his neck from side to side, a satisfied crack filling the room. “I’m going to clean it.”
“Have your way with me.” When another sigh filled the room and she looked up to the frown on his face she rolled her eyes. “Okay, sorry. I’ll stop with the suggestive words.” The warm towel touched her wound and she jumped. “So why is it better then he isn’t here?”
“If Dean can’t touch then no one else can either. Especially if he has to watch.”
“What?!” She rolled her eyes, shaking her head and tossing back more bourbon. “Don’t be ridiculous. Dean flirts. He’s a man whore. There’s only a fine line that stops him from treating me like the trash at the local bar. But I can guarantee you I really doubt his brother getting close to my lady business to stitch me up really has him upset.”
Sam snorted slightly and shook his head. “I know my brother Jo.”
His words snuck the alcohol fogging her brain and for a brief moment in the silence of their room she tried to sort out what he meant. Before she had a chance though the door opened, revealing the man her thoughts were currently focused on. Keys landed on the table and before she had the time to glare at him he was pulling a bottle from a paper bag. She watched him in silence as he unscrewed the top, tossed it onto the table and walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge of it next to her good leg. When he grabbed her bottle she opened her mouth to exclaim, but quickly he thrust the full bottle into her hand and chugged the rest of her bottle. Bleary eyed, she smiled up at him tiredly. “I knew you cared.”
Dean rolled his eyes and tossed the empty bottle to the floor and reaching for one of the cold beers he dropped on the floor. “Don’t get weepy eyed on my now.”
Sam glanced up at Jo, noting the silly grin on her face. “Trust you Jo to get all sentimental because someone bought you a bottle of bourbon when you get stitches in a motel room.”
It was rather funny she realized as she looked down her body at Sam’s exasperated face. He was threading the needle, but she couldn’t help but smile anyway. Turning her face back to Dean she found him smirking slightly. Being drunk it was easy to pretend that he was actually smiling because maybe that was why he liked her. Taking a huge chug of the bottle, swallowing and then taking another she dropped her head back to the pillow. “I’m going to be hungover.”
“You’ve had stitches before.” Dean reasoned, eyes moving briefly to the gash inside her thigh then back to the needle in Sam’s hand.
She opened her eyes, not even realizing she had closed them, and stared up at him.
“Yea, but the inside of my thigh?”
He shrugged and took a sip of the beer. “Good point.”
“Alright.” Same proclaimed and moved onto his knees, crawling to the side of Jo’s body. “You need to...just...” He sighed and pinched his nose briefly before dropping his hand. “Pull your leg up and press your knee into the mattress.”
She did as instructed, taking another demanding chug from the bottle. Cringing when her stomach rolled. The room spun and she dropped her head back to the mattress. Her lids were heavy and she swore that the room spun. The first prick shocked her and she gasped, wincing slightly. Something was on her knee. The needle went through and she winced, trying to ignore the pain, fighting down a cry and barely escaped. The bottle was gone from her hands, she probably was too drunk to lift it anyway. Another stick, this time her body jolted slightly in shock. Something across her good leg and along the length of her body. When a hand wrapped around her arm she rolled her head from side to side and opened her eyes, finding Dean’s peering down at her. It was his hand on her bent knee holding it into the bed, his leg across her good one stopping her body from moving away from the needle, his body lying on his side next to her and his hand grasping her arm holding her down. She shuddered as she needle pierced her skin again and squeezed her eyes shut. Jo Harvelle wouldn’t cry, Harvelle woman didn’t cry.
“Jo, you killed some Freddy Kruger look alike and are getting stitches by my brother in some back woods motel. If you want to shed a tear I’m not going to hold it against you.”
When she looked up at him the tears had already escaped the corners of her eyes and during a brief pause on Sam’s end she smiled. “You’re all full of nice things today.”
“Well I figure if I get to grope a half naked woman...”
She would have sworn he smiled, didn’t smirk. A genuine smile that was maybe a bit too sweet for the normal Dean Winchester grin, but she was drunk. With a shaky sigh, and unable to see clearly, she turned her head towards him. He wasn’t close enough that she could bury her face into his chest, but she could smell him, feel his body around her. The needle pierced her skin again and she shuddered, trying to breathe deeply as it slid through. Lips pressed against her temple and she would have sworn he shushed her softly and whispered to her that everything would be okay, but she could never be sure.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She clicked her tongue softly, swinging the bag in her hand and balancing the box in her other. Everything was silent besides the random whizz of a car flying down the highway miles away. A couple of men sat outside their room, eying her as she walked along the road from the corner store in front of their motel. She had her gun and her knife, they wouldn’t get far if they were going to try anything. Besides, Dean had pretty rudely told the men, who had been following her with their eyes as she, Dean and Sam unloaded the car, “If you even look at her again I’m going to shove your head so far up your ass you won’t see the light of day for years.” So although they looked now, she figured that they wouldn’t try much else.
Sliding the hand of the bag down her arm and balancing the box in the hand on the same side she used her free one to dig out her key and quickly entered the room. “Damn it’s muggy out there.”
“It’s the south.” Dean reasoned. “What the hell took so long.”
“I was gone ten minutes. Where’s Sam?” She inquired as she dropped the beer on the table and settled the box down carefully.
“Said he was tired of my shit and didn’t care if it was my birthday.” Dean shrugged and stood up from the bed, making his way over to the table and plopping into the chair. “Took off for a bit.” Grabbing a beer he popped the top off and glanced at the other bag. Eyes widening slowly he turned them back up to her. “Is that pie?”
She grinned at the obvious excitement on his face. “Maybe.” But she was already reaching into the bag, pulling out the napkins and plastic silverware she snagged at the store and then the box. “For the birthday boy.”
“God I knew there was a reason I let you come along.” He groaned and reached for the box, ripping the top off.
“I only ask for one piece, the rest is yours.” Grabbing the plastic butter knife she cut one slice and lifted it onto a napkin. “Unless you want to save some for Sam.”
“He’s on his own.”
Jo didn’t bother arguing, only shook her head and toed off her shoes before grabbing the beer and walking towards the mini fridge. When she turned Dean was already back on the bed, pie tin in his lap and a spoon in his hand. “You're like a big kid.”
“Didn’t we already establish that?”
“I guess.” Moving back to the table she grabbed her pie and walked around the bed, stopped at the empty side and sat down. After propping up a pillow she leaned back. With her small portion on her stomach she ate silently, watching him out of the corner of her eye. “Are you really going to eat that whole thing?” He turned to her, mouth full. “Stupid question.”
They remained like that for some time, saying very little. Eventually Jo got up, went to the bathroom and stripped off her clothes, pulling on shorts and a t-shirt. When she came back out Dean hadn’t moved much. His shoes and pie box were gone and he was slumped further into the pillow, but she didn’t believe for one minute he had moved off the bed.
The other bed was hers. Sometimes they had separate rooms. But when they were on the road sleeping in dingy motels they usually stayed in the same room. Her bed furthest from the door. She argued about it once, not wanting to be shoved into the corner. Dean had promptly told her to follow his rules or leave then stormed out. Sam sighed at the door that shut behind his brother and turned to her. “He’d rather be between you and the door Jo.” So she dropped it.
With a silent decision made she walked across the floor and sat on his bed, kicking off her flip flops. If he thought it was strange that she was settling down next to him he didn’t say anything. So she grabbed her blanket off her bed, the same old one she’d been lugging around since she started hunting, and threw it over her body, “Nothing from Sam?”
“Text him while you were primping. Said he was hanging out at a local bar, trying to figure out if we were on the right path or not.” He shrugged and folded one arm behind his head, eyes never leaving the TV.
“Isn’t hitting up the bars your thing?” He turned his head, looking down at her with a smirk, his eyes shining slightly, as if she had said something funny.
“I’m not leaving you here alone.”
She rolled her eyes at his poor excuse. God forbid he might enjoy her company. Once again it came down to her inability to take care of herself. She shouldn’t have bought him that pie. Maybe she should go to her own bed. Instead she settled for huffing slightly and turning onto her stomach, looking down the bed at the TV. “Don’t do me any favors,” she grumbled. “I wouldn’t want to deprive you of sampling the locals.”
Jo felt him move and just as she turned her head to see where he was going he was on his side facing her, leaving over her just slightly so that she had to actually look up at him.
“Why would I go hit on women when I have one here who buys me pie?”
There was something joking about his words and tone, but there was something else. From the way he lay against her to the deep tone of his voice. Instead of remaining irritated with him, she let it go and smiled softly up at him. Getting mad at him was easy, but Jo couldn’t resist him when he turned the charm on. “Happy Birthday Dean.”
When she woke the next morning the first thing Jo realized as she woke was heat and the realization that she had never woken to move. So when she opened her eyes she wasn’t surprised to find Dean. What she was surprised about was their proximity. They weren’t really touching, but they were lying on their sides facing one another. Her knees were pulled up in a fetal position, her body curled into his own, snuggled close enough that she could feel the heat of his body.
As she slowly unfolded her legs, brushing his as she did saw, his eyes snapped open, stilling her movements.
Seconds passed, then Jo hesitantly smiled. “Hey.” At first there was no response, he just stared at her and just when she decided she had to get away from his hard stare he smiled and it made her breath catch. Because Dean Winchester smiling in the morning was different. It was sleepy, endearing, sexy and made her feel as if it should have been followed up with a kiss. Jo hated him for being able to do that to her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jo smiled at the young hunter. She’d met him a few times over the past few months. He usually worked on the opposite side of the country, but had somehow made his way across and had walked into the Roadhouse for the first time about five months ago. She wasn’t always working, sometimes hunting, but when she was, and he passed through they’d spend their time talking at the Roadhouse, he’d hang around until closing time and then leave. Smiling at her, telling her he was glad he got to see her and moving on.
So she’d went on a hunt five days ago with Dean and Sam and had finally rolled back into the Roadhouse, slightly bruised, but alive.
It was a pleasant surprise to see Clive sitting at the bar chatting with her mom. No bar slut at his side, just sitting there with his boyish grin, slightly spiky blond hair, cleanly shaven, neat clothes, bear in hand and chatting with her mother. So different from the man that walked beside her, grumbling and cursing, clothes wrinkled from two days travel, old leather jacket, brown hair mussed, stubble covering this face.
Begging a couple of minutes to clean up and promising to meet Clive in a few minutes she quickly showered, dried her hair and dressed, and applied minimal makeup before meeting him at the bar. She passed Dean, only a few seats away, who glanced at her and rolled his eyes. Screw him.
“Are you working tonight?” Clive asked, leaning on his side against the bar with his arm propped on it.
“Nah.” She sipped her beer. “After that hunt I need the night off. Been in the car for two days strait with these two peaches.” She gestured behind her. Clive turned to look down the bar at Dean and Sam and his easy smile faltered slightly and she regretted mentioning her long trip with Sam and Dean. Clive had asked about her hunt, and it would have been hard to lie that she had gone off with them for it when he saw her walk in the door and her mother’s ecstatic welcome home. So Jo was honest, but she couldn’t help but wonder what he thought about her being alone with two attractive men her age for five days strait. The Winchester brother’s of all people. Dean’s reputation proceeded him. But Clive said nothing, asked no questions.
“Do you want to get out of here? I could use some dinner and I’m sure you might appreciate something besides bar food for a change. My treat. And I promise to have you home by midnight.”
She smiled brightly, appreciating the fact that there was no lame attempt to get into her pants. Sure, the thought may have crossed his mind, it had crossed hers, but at least that didn’t seem to be the only thing on his mind. Clive genuinely seemed to want to get to know her, spend time with her.
“Give me five minutes.” He nodded and she hopped down off the bar stool to head to the back.
When she came back he was gone. She looked around, eyes finding the bathroom, expecting to see him exit it at any moment, but he didn’t. “Mom,” she stopped at the bar where she left Clive, noting that nothing hinted that he ever sat there. “Where’s Clive?”
She sighed, rolling her eyes irritably and nodded to her side. “Ask your concerned friend.” Jo noticed the way she emphasized concerned.
When she turned in the direction her mother nodded she found Dean and Sam. Dean didn’t seem as if anything was amiss, nursing his beer and peering out at the crowd before him. Sam though fidgeted, nervously looking at her and away again. “Dean,” Jo warned and advanced on him. “What did you do?”
“Nothing.” He shrugged. “Just talked to your friend Clive for a bit while you were gone. Nice guy, but he didn’t stick around very long.”
“You talked to him?” She asked, drawing out every word slowly. “What-did-you-say.”
“I don’t know.” Dean shrugged again and chugged his beer. “Ellen, can I get another.”
Jo glanced at her mother, for any hint of what had happened, but only caught the disappointed frown that she aimed at Dean as she put another beer down. “What did you say?” She asked again as she turned to him.
“I don’t remember.”
When Dean Winchester set his mind to something there was no changing it. Getting an answer out of him wasn’t going to happen. “I am so tired of you pulling this over bearing shit on me Dean Winchester. If you ever interfere in my life again like that I swear I am going to break your arm. You’re a fucking asshole.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” He mumbled.
With that she turned to leave, but she still caught snippets of their conversation before she got far enough away.
“What the fuck did you say Dean?” Sam questioned. “You had him hightailing it out of here.”
“Boy you are in for a world of trouble.” Her mother added and she was right.
“You can’t always run them off Dean,” Sam’s response was the last thing heard as she headed to her room and the last thing she thought of when she fell asleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She tossed and turned, still on edge from the hunt. It didn’t help that she was actually staying in a five star hotel. Sometimes there were perks to a hunt. This being ridding a five star hotel of a rather nasty ghost. The owner had been very grateful to say the least, putting them up in his best rooms.
Of course she wasn’t used to such excess and found it a bit hard to wrap her mind around. With a sigh she grabbed her phone and stared at it, debating on what to do. She didn’t want to go out and drink, although she highly suspected that was what Dean and Sam were doing. He’d pick up some random woman, bring her back to his expensive hotel room and screw her. The thought made her stomach turn. With a sigh she found his name.
“Aren’t all good little girls supposed to be in bed?”
She couldn’t help but grin at his question, and relieved that he had answered. “Maybe, but I’m not tired. What are you doing?”
“Trying to order a movie. Can’t decide between porn or action.”
Jo rolled her eyes, deciding not to take the bait. “If you aren’t tired of me yet mind choosing action and I’ll watch it with you?”
He sighed. “That means I have to get up and let you in. Hurry up.”
She grinned and ended the phone call, jumping out of bed and hurrying out the room.
When she knocked on his door he was prompt with answering, holding a finger to his lips as he let her in, phone pressed to his ear. After he shut the door she followed him as he made his way through the spacious living room.
“I want a cheeseburger, medium, fries. Do you have pie? What kind? Give me both. A chocolate shake too. Actually make that two burgers.” He pulled the phone from his mouth and turned to her as they walked through the hallway. “You?”
“French toast with butter and powdered sugar. Oh and chocolate milk.” He nodded and relayed her order, asking her only how she wanted her eggs and if she wanted bacon or sausage. They finally came to the bedroom, the TV loud, surround sound turned up. A couple of beer bottles littering the bed stand, clothes strewn off a couple of chairs, bag opened in the corner with more clothes spilling out. “Made yourself at home I see.”
“Yea well...gave the maid the day off.” He threw himself on the large king size bed, settling back against the large plush pillows.
There was a moment were she paused, unsure about crawling in the bed with him. They’ve sat in the same bed before, watching movies in hotel rooms, but usually Sam was around. This time Sam was most likely sleeping in his own room. With a mental shrug she moved forward. The bed was big enough for two.
Three hours later Jo was pleasantly full, they were into their second action flick and she was burrowed under the covers to keep away the chill. Hotel rooms were cold, she was going to say that much. With a yawn she turned on her side, pulling the thick comforter up to her neck. Dean was still awake, eyes open, lights from the TV flashing across his face in the darkness. His head turned and he was facing her. “Passing out on me?”
“I’m tired.” She reasoned and sighed. “I should probably head back and go to sleep.”
“Just go to sleep. I’m sure I can keep my hands to myself.”
He smirked at her, his face even more handsome as he did so. With a small snort she shut her eyes and let sleep take her. His presence at her side should have bothered her, instead it just felt nice, knowing he was there.
Noise drew her from sleep at some point. She felt the bed dip next her, a cold draft moving underneath the blanket causing her to shiver. The noise from the TV silenced and then she felt movement. Cold, she was cold. The blanket slid up her body, but not by her own hands. She sighed as the cold air was shielded from her body, as something even warmer pressed against her. Then it moved and she scooted closer. Sleep still clouded her mind, but when she felt an arm around her waist her eyes shot open.
Dean, it was Dean. She knew that. They were in the hotel, in his bed, and his body was pressed against her, arm around her waist. Jo should have pulled away, because sleeping like that, it wasn’t something friends did. But it felt good. He was warm, firm, smelled so good that her eyes began to shut of their own accord. With a sigh and scooted closer, his arm tightened around her, and she buried her face into his chest. His hand moved up and down her back slowly, soothing her back to sleep. Jo sighed, relaxing against him, not caring at the wrongness of their situation or what it meant.
Fingers trailed over her temple, long hair tickling her face as it slid away and then she felt his lips against her forehead. Without even thinking she shifted closer, her legs tangling with his, needing the physical contact and the feeling of protection he provided.
She only woke once in the middle of the night to feel his chest pressed against her back, arm still tightly around her waist, face buried in her neck so close that she could feel his warm breath caressing her. She pressed herself into his body and slid her hand to cover his. His hand clenched slightly and then he relaxed. With a sigh she fell back asleep.
When she woke in the morning he was gone from the bed. She found him in the living room, stuffing his face again, a plate of French toast, butter and powdered sugar, scrambled eggs and bacon sitting in the empty seat to his right.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“You two?”
“Well,” Ellen drug the word out slowly. “It won’t be expecting us. It’s seen you and Sam, has your scents. I know you boys have being handling this from the beginning and want to finish it, but you asked for our help, and I think if the two of you go in, our cover will be blown before we’re within a mile of the town.”
“She’s right Dean, let us just see what happens,” Jo said softly. Normally she could care less about tip toeing around his anger and temper, but she could see he was on edge, and sometimes brute force didn’t work with him.
“See what-?” He snapped his mouth shut and groaned, bending his neck from side to side, two satisfying pops breaking the silence. “It’s killed five people, you don’t just see what happens. And no offense sweetheart, but it got a handle on us, so I’m not that confident about the two of you going in alone.”
“They’re right Dean.”
Jo turned at the sound of Sam, momentarily shocked at the other Winchester’s agreement.
“We know what doesn’t work now. The job isn’t any less dangerous, but at least we know what has to be done. Jo and Ellen might be able to take care of it.”
More silence. Jo had avoided his eyes, instead focused on cleaning her gun, but when the silence became too much she looked up, meeting his eyes. His face was bare of emotion, but she could see the stormy anger in his hardened eyes, the tension in his jaw, the way the vein in his neck became more pronounced until finally he stood up, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
“Yea, fine, whatever.”
Then he was gone, slamming the door behind him, making her mother jump. Jo rolled her eyes and turned back to her gun.
“Does he do that often?” Ellen inquired as she turned away from the door.
Sam sighed. “Too often. Let’s get to work.”
An hour later, details and plans laid out, Jo and Ellen were heading out. Her eyes swept the parking lot for Dean, and finally spotted him sitting in his car. For a moment she debated on whether to leave him there, pouting in his own misery. But she’d long ago given up playing games with him, it was useless and a waste of time, and the easiest way to disarm Dean was just to ignore his behavior like you would a petulant child.
Turning towards her mom she told her she’d meet her by the car and then headed towards the Impala. When he pulled on the passenger side handle she was relieved to find it unlocked. Sliding in next to him she shut the door and turned to face him. His eyes remained trained ahead, face still hard and emotionless. As his hand raised she finally noticed the long neck in his hand as he took a sip then lowered the bottle back down to settle between his legs. The music was too loud as always, and usually it didn’t bother her, but she had something to say. Wary of him verbally striking out at her as she reached for the knob, she released a sigh when he said nothing as the sound lowered.
“Look, I know you don’t think we can handle it. But Dean, I’m not the same girl I was before, I’m not going to run into a job without thinking I have a chance. If I thought there wasn’t one then we wouldn’t be doing it this way. But as it is there is a chance, and also a chance that if the two of you come along we’ll be made and lose our last chance at surprising this thing.” She paused waited for any kind of response, but received none. “Just trust me okay?” With that she reached for the handle, she pulled and it clicked and then she felt his hand on her other wrist, pulling her back. She turned, surprised slightly, expecting him to tell her that she had no idea what she was getting into, but the hard look was gone from his eyes and she would have sworn they softened slightly..
“Just...be careful,” Dean said lowly, his brow drawn together slightly.
She smiled softly at him and nodded. His hand fell away and she exited the car.
“Jo.”
Second time he called her back, it wasn’t like him. She leaned down, folding her arms inside the window and poked her head through. “Yea?”
“I don’t care if the damn thing does know we’re coming. If something happens, and you can’t get out, call me. Do you understand?” He said firmly, the hardness back in his eyes again.
It felt like there was something else there in his request, but she shook it off, refusing to believe it was anything more. “Okay.” And then she turned again, the music blaring again behind her as she walked away.
As it turned out there wasn’t just one of those damn sick little bastards like they thought, there were two, and Dean was called, just not by Jo. Ellen had to make the frantic phone call after it grabbed her, dragging her away to feed on at a later time.
She sat in the darkness for hours, cold and damp, with the smell of death surrounding her. Bones, flesh, guts, hair, blood, all sprinkled throughout the basement of the half human half monster thing that was holding her for dinner.
Sam always said Dean made mistakes when he went in half cocked, but he also said when he was pissed he was more than likely to gun and beat the shit out of something and send it straight to hell.
As her mother checked her over and she surveyed the damage done inside the old empty house, the blood and bits of gore covering her mother, Sam and Dean. Dean was off to the side his leather jacket hanging in his hand as he wiped it with an old rag, cursing about blood and monsters that explode. She turned to Sam in confusion. “What happened?”
Sam shrugged nonchalantly. “He was pissed.”
Hours later, after everyone had showered and Jo laid in her bed, staring up at the ceiling in the darkness, counting her blessings, knowing that at that moment she would have been dead, eaten.
The ding of her phone broke her trance. Reaching for it she activated the screen to see a text.
‘You up?’
Jo glanced at her sleeping mother then back at her phone and quickly responded with an affirmative.
‘Meet me outside.’
Careful not to wake her mother, Jo slid on a pair of flip flops, grabbed the key and exited the room. It took her only seconds to find Dean leaning against the front of his car, ankles crossed and arms crossed over his broad chest. As she made her way towards him, the only sound being the rocks and sand crunching beneath her shoes, she couldn’t help but be wary of him. After the thing had been killed he hadn’t said a word to her and when they got back he had gone straight to his room, not glancing back at anyone, leaving Ellen bewildered and Sam frowning. He had been mad. “Hey.”
He said nothing at first, she leaned back against his car, a few inches between them.
“Are you okay?” He asked, voice low and slightly scratchy.
“Yea, a little creeped out I guess. That thing, the basement, it was all kind of gross.” He nodded, but didn’t say much else. There was obviously something on his mind. Dean knew she was okay, there was no reason for him to call her out. “Thanks for coming. I guess you were right,” she relented. Although she wasn’t sure if the situation would have been any better if they had come in the beginning. “I seem to always be getting myself kidnapped and having you come in and rescue me. I guess I’m not as good as I thought,” Jo added solemnly.
“What?”
Jo turned her head to face him, surprised at the slight disgust and confusion on his face.
“You were right,” she sighed, “I should have listened to you, I-.” He moved suddenly, grabbing her arm, and pulling her from the car to face him as he turned his body to mirror hers.
“This isn’t what this is about. We made the best out of the shitty job we had. There was no way to just go and get the job done. The only reason we were able to take that thing was because your mom and you had already beat the shit out of it. It hadn’t eaten, it was waiting for you to get weak, fall asleep, it was weakened. That was why we were able to catch it.”
“But I almost got myself killed,” Jo argued. “Isn’t that what you are always saying? Isn’t that why you’re mad? I always try to get myself killed and you have to haul my ass out of there?”
“You scared the shit out of my Jo. It would have been any of us. Not could, would. I know you’re a good hunter, you’re a damn good one. What pisses me off is that I know you’re just as likely to lose your life one day to this, just as much as much as I am, and it scares the shit out of me.”
As usual, she had him pegged wrong. There had been things that she had assumed about him lately, things about his attitude, what he felt, and she’d been wrong. It was odd, because she used to have his number, but now....something was off about him.
Those thoughts were second to her feelings on what he just said. In almost one breath he’d told her she was a good hunter, but even more surprisingly he’d told her how much he was scared of her dying. She’d assumed that his anger had been over not being in on the hunt, believing she wasn’t good enough to take care of it and eventually having to save her. But none of that was it. Dean was simply scared she would get killed. Which confused the hell out of her, because Sam could just as easily get killed, but Dean did nothing to hold his brother back. It was different to him somehow. It was different for her. When she wasn’t hunting with them she did get worried about him, and depended on Sam’s reports more so then Dean’s sporadic phone calls to give her piece of mind. But it didn’t appear to be as bad for her. Maybe because she’d met him and he was a hunter, had always been a hunter, one of the best. When Dean had met her she was just a girl at a bar.
Within the short seconds that she stood there, trying to find something to say, she finally settled on one thing. “I’m sorry.” And she meant it. Jo hadn’t realized what went through his head. Dean Winchester wasn’t exactly an open book. But she would never have assumed that the thought of her getting killed bothered him. Would she have been more careful? No. She was a hunter, and she knew he wouldn’t have asked her not to be one. But she would have phrased things differently, reassured him in ways.
His face was still intense, his arm still gripped on her arm. Slowly, she lifted a hand up, not even realizing what the physical gesture would imply. “Dean...” Her fingers brushed his stubble chin and her palm just touched his cheek when he dropped his hand and turned his face from hers. An emptiness was left in the wake of his hand and eyes on her. One she wasn’t exactly comfortable with. Instead she pushed it away, ignoring it, knowing what it could mean.
“I guess technically it’s your birthday.” Dean glanced down at his watch.
“Well if you want to be technical I was born at 3:11 p.m.” His eyes glanced up at her first and she smiled. “But yea.”
“I’ve got something for you.”
She watched him turn away. “Aw, Dean you shouldn’t have. I doubt pie. What is it? Bullets, salt, brand new fake FBI badge?”
“Don’t be smart.”
With his back turned to her still as he opened the door and reached for something she rolled her eyes. Obviously he still wasn’t back to his old smart ass self so she sighed and was determined to tone it back, at least for the night. It had taken a lot for him to admit what he did, she figured she should at least respect that.
“Close your eyes. What did you lose during your hunt?”
Jo groaned, eyes closed. “Don’t remind me. It’s going to take a fair amount of hustling to replace those weapons.”
“What have I told you about that?”
Jo sighed, knowing that he was referring to her habit of hustling money. He swore up and down she was going to get in trouble one day and no one was going to be there to help her out of it. Each time she’d taken offense to it, now though...she understood. “I know. I won’t do it on my own anymore if it makes you feel better.”
He said nothing, so she assumed they had reached a compromise. She’d still play poker on her own, but she supposed she wouldn’t take them for all they were worth, using her cute, innocent appearance to disarm them, fool them.
Her thoughts were interrupted when she felt his hand surrounding hers, pulling it up. The unexpected physical contact made her breath hitch in her throat slightly and the last thing Jo needed was for him to see the effect he could have on her.
Cool metal touched her hand and when she wrapped her hand around it she immediately recognized the feeling of a hand gun. Eyes popping open she looked down to have her suspicions confirmed. But it wasn’t just any gun...
“You're shitting me right? Pulling my leg?”
He rolled his eyes in response. “Leave it to you to look a gift horse in the mouth.”
“But, but...” No....there was no way.
“Just take it Jo, stop making a big damn deal about it.” He grumbled and turned away.
She watched him, mouth gaping open as she turned and slammed the passenger door shut.
“I’m going to head to bed, long drive tomorrow.”
Dean was an emotional roller coaster that she could barely even hold on to and could never know when it was going to go up or down. Normally if he wanted to run off with a dark cloud hanging over his head she’d let him, but not this time, not with this gun in her hand.
“Dean wait.” Jo hurried after him, determined to follow him into his room if she had to. “You can’t just drop this in my hand and walk off, and I can’t just take it like that. This is your gun, your favorite gun, your Colt. I just...I just...I can’t. I know you don’t want to...I know-.”
“You don’t know.” He said firmly, eyes narrowed on her.
The tenseness was back in him, and she could tell he was trying to tell her it wasn’t up for discussion. What Jo wanted to know was why, but since he didn’t volunteer a reason, she figured he didn’t want to give one. Dean would never part with his Colt willingly, and she couldn’t even begin to understand his reasons. The possible answers lay somewhere in the back of her mind, a place she filed away strange behavior, unnerving looks and unexpected words. His fear for her life and the gift that laid in her hand would be placed there. “Dean...” She tried again, a last time.
“Don’t lose it Jo.” He said simply and turned again to leave, but she grabbed his arm, pulling him back around.
Unsure about her decision, she plundered forward, pressing herself against him and wrapping an arm around his neck, raising onto her toes, the gun pressed between their chests. “Thank you,” she whispered softly into his ear. His body was tense, but she could have sworn she could feel it slowly relax and then she felt his arms, not loose or his hands patting her back kindly. They enveloped her wrapping around her waist and the middle of her back. One hand pressing into her shoulder, the other wrapping around the side of her waist. Her feet lifted slightly from the ground, toes just brushing it and she held on tighter, resting her head on his shoulder. She felt his breath on her neck, face against it and she shuddered, squeezing her eyes shut at the feeling and trying to tell herself that Dean was just hugging her back, that maybe he wasn’t squeezing her, burying his face into her neck because he wanted to, but because he was grateful she was alive.
The embrace lasted seconds and then she heard him sigh, knowing it was coming to an end. As they pulled away she already felt the loss of his arms. Without thinking she pressed her lips to his cheek, close to the corner of his mouth. “Thank you.”
Their eyes met, faces only inches from one another and she felt her stomach drop at the implications of their position, the closeness of it, the fact that neither one had moved, the way his eyes flickered down and then up again, and then he grinned and somehow she knew the moment was gone.
“At least people will take you more seriously now.” With her own matching grin she shoved at his shoulder.
But then the teasing grin fell and he leaned forward, dropping his lips to her forehead, pressing a kiss against it and lowered his head so that his eyes met hers. “Take care of yourself Jo.”
All she could do was nod, because she knew he meant it. Dean wasn’t just saying it as a goodbye because her and her mother were talking off in the morning going one way, while he and Sam went another. Now she understood.
“And if you need me...” He left it hanging, eyebrows raised..
“I’ll call,” she finished for him softly, heart clenching with some unknown emotion. He nodded in return, then dropped his head to the side of hers. Slowly, his hand traveled up her back and grasped her neck gently. His breath came in warm puffs against her neck and then she felt his lips against her cheek. The contact made her inhale sharply and she felt his hands tighten on her waist and neck. Then they fell away, he stepped back and the moment was over.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Dean said gruffly and then turned to leave. This time she didn’t stop him, watching his back as he walked back to his motel room with Sam and disappeared behind the door. Slowly, Jo turned her eyes down to the Colt still clenched in her hand, pressed against her chest. Lowering her hand she relaxed her fingers and opened them to stare down at the ivory handle and detailed engravings. All she could do was stand there and try to swallow past the lump building in her throat.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Date: 2010-08-09 05:01 am (UTC)The characterizations are really good and the first memory is epic! Hehe :-)
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Date: 2010-08-10 03:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-11 11:27 pm (UTC)I hope you wound up enjoying the second part.
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Date: 2010-08-11 10:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-11 11:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-20 08:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-12 06:59 pm (UTC)