(no subject)
ANGSTCAKES. :O
Part one.
Part two.
Part three.
Part four.
Part five.
Some hours later, after Nita had gotten fresh clothes from Jo and the four of them had shared stories over dinner, Sam and Dean were back in their room, Dean idly flipping channels as Sam researched something -- probably deals, Dean thought, and then attempted to ignore -- on his computer.
Someone knocked on the door. Sam, being closest, got up, checked the peephole, and opened it. "Hey, Jo. What's up?"
She peered around him. "Can I come in? Is Dean in here?"
"Yo," Dean called from the bed. Sam moved aside to let Jo in. She slipped inside, leaned against the wall, and folded her arms.
There was a brief, awkward silence.
"Oh," said Sam. "I'll. Just. I need to -- be somewhere else."
"See you later, Sam," Jo said, gaze still fixed on Dean.
The clack of the door closing was uncomfortably loud over David Letterman listing the top tne rejected Law & Order spinoffs.
"I, for one, am unnerved," Dean finally volunteered. "Are you planning on talking or what?"
"How's the whole 'year left to live' thing working out for you?"
Dean blinked at her, and then let out a disbelieving chuckle. "Wow. Just go straight for the jugular, why don't you."
"Look, you--"
"And it's three months to live, at this point," he cut in. "Not a year."
"Look," she repeated, "you made an incredibly stupid decision. Do you want me to feel sorry for you?"
"Well, y'know, it's a thought."
"Well, you can forget it."
Dean snorted and flicked the TV off with the remote. "Is that why you came in here? Just to tell me that? Well thanks, Jo, now I know I'm not getting any pity from you, have a good night."
Jo made a frustrated noise, pushing herself off the wall. "You know, I've met some dumb hunters in my time, but you, Dean, you really take the cake."
"oh, so now we're on to flat-out insults? Is that it?" He spread his hands. "Fine. Take all the shots you want."
"No!" Jo exploded. "Would you take this seriously?"
Dean got to his feet. "That's a little hard when you're just throwing my idiocy in my face!" He stalked closer. "This is all I hear from Sam, too -- take this seriously. Do you honestly think I'm not?"
They were nose to nose now, glaring. Dean could see the muscles in her jaw clench as she gritted her teeth. "I am so mad at you, Dean Winchester."
"Yeah? Why?"
"Because you're ruining other people's lives too, you ass!"
"Don't you dare yell at me about Sam, I know what this is doing to--"
"I'm not talking about Sam!"
Dean opened his mouth, paused. Jo suddenly slumped, looked down, letting out an unhappy chuckle. "Dumbest hunter I've ever met."
"Jo--"
"Shut up, Dean." She looked up at him and opened her mouth a couple times, rejecting what she was going to say each time. Finally she looked down again and muttered, "Why'd you have to ruin everything?"
Dean took a breath, rubbed the back of his neck. "I wasn't trying to."
"Yeah, well. Good intentions."
He groaned a little. "Oh, please, you know how many times I've hear that one in the last nine months?"
She chuckled in spite of herself, and sniffed. Dean blinked. "Jo, are you--?"
"No."
"I was gonna say okay."
Another weak chuckle. "Same answer."
"Hey." He lifted a hand, paused, and then brushed her hair back. "Come on. I'm not worth all this."
Jo snorted, looking up. "You're not that dumb, Dean."
She swallowed, and brought her hands up as if she was going to cup his face in them. Hesitating, she dropped them to his shoulders instead, smoothing his shirt down his arms, his pecs. Finally she looked up and touched his face, tentative.
His eyes fluttered briefly. "Jo . . ."
She kissed him before he could say anything else. His hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer; he noticed, in a detached sort of way, that she was up on her tiptoes, leaning against him for support. It was odd to think of her as so much shorter than him -- in-your-face Jo Harvelle, a hunter before anything else, no matter what her little blonde exterior suggested.
He broke the kiss, coming up for air. Jo blinked at him.
"I think this is a really bad idea," he managed.
Jo hid it well, but he could see that hit her hard. She moved her hands back to his shoulders, very deliberately, and whispered, "I thought we were good at those."
"I'm great at them," he replied, husky. "I just. I mean. I don't think this is a bad idea. I think this right now is a bad idea."
"Why?"
"'Cause. I don't -- we're gonna be on the road together for at least a couple days. I don't want it to be all awkward for everyone."
"That's ridiculous."
"No. Jo, look at me, look at me." She obeyed, and he brushed her hair back with one hand again, the other still on her waist. "I mean it. Really. I really do."
She looked into his eyes for a long time, searching to see if he was telling the truth. Finally she nodded, whispering, "I believe you."
"Thank you." He pulled her closer, into a hug; her arms went around his neck, her face into his shoulder. "I'm sorry I'm such a dumbass, Jo."
"Yeah, well," she replied, muffled, "sometimes it's charming."
They stayed like that for a minute. Finally, Jo stepped back, running a hand over her mouth. "I guess if we're gonna get to Bobby's tomorrow we ought to get some sleep."
Dean nodded agreement and walked her to the door. "Yeah. Is Nita gonna ride with you or what?"
"Probably. I'll go ask her what she wants to do."
"Okay. G'night, Jo."
She took his hand briefly, squeezed, before stepping outside into the chilly night air. "G'night, Dean."
He closed the door behind her and stood there for a moment, just breathing.
"Goddammit."
Turning, he flopped onto the bed and ran his hands over his face. He'd heard once that the secret to success was sincerity: once you can fake that, you've got it made. It looked like it was true. He'd told her the truth -- he didn't want things to get awkward, between them, between him and Sam, between all three of them and the teenager traveling with them -- but he'd been scared, for a minute, that she'd realize it wasn't the whole truth.
Because really, he knew that when he slept with Jo, if he slept with Jo, he'd be saying goodbye. Maybe she did know that. Maybe that was why she'd come over tonight.
He wasn't ready to do that yet. Three months was a long time. Could be a long time.
Three months was nothing. But he wasn't ready.
Part one.
Part two.
Part three.
Part four.
Part five.
Some hours later, after Nita had gotten fresh clothes from Jo and the four of them had shared stories over dinner, Sam and Dean were back in their room, Dean idly flipping channels as Sam researched something -- probably deals, Dean thought, and then attempted to ignore -- on his computer.
Someone knocked on the door. Sam, being closest, got up, checked the peephole, and opened it. "Hey, Jo. What's up?"
She peered around him. "Can I come in? Is Dean in here?"
"Yo," Dean called from the bed. Sam moved aside to let Jo in. She slipped inside, leaned against the wall, and folded her arms.
There was a brief, awkward silence.
"Oh," said Sam. "I'll. Just. I need to -- be somewhere else."
"See you later, Sam," Jo said, gaze still fixed on Dean.
The clack of the door closing was uncomfortably loud over David Letterman listing the top tne rejected Law & Order spinoffs.
"I, for one, am unnerved," Dean finally volunteered. "Are you planning on talking or what?"
"How's the whole 'year left to live' thing working out for you?"
Dean blinked at her, and then let out a disbelieving chuckle. "Wow. Just go straight for the jugular, why don't you."
"Look, you--"
"And it's three months to live, at this point," he cut in. "Not a year."
"Look," she repeated, "you made an incredibly stupid decision. Do you want me to feel sorry for you?"
"Well, y'know, it's a thought."
"Well, you can forget it."
Dean snorted and flicked the TV off with the remote. "Is that why you came in here? Just to tell me that? Well thanks, Jo, now I know I'm not getting any pity from you, have a good night."
Jo made a frustrated noise, pushing herself off the wall. "You know, I've met some dumb hunters in my time, but you, Dean, you really take the cake."
"oh, so now we're on to flat-out insults? Is that it?" He spread his hands. "Fine. Take all the shots you want."
"No!" Jo exploded. "Would you take this seriously?"
Dean got to his feet. "That's a little hard when you're just throwing my idiocy in my face!" He stalked closer. "This is all I hear from Sam, too -- take this seriously. Do you honestly think I'm not?"
They were nose to nose now, glaring. Dean could see the muscles in her jaw clench as she gritted her teeth. "I am so mad at you, Dean Winchester."
"Yeah? Why?"
"Because you're ruining other people's lives too, you ass!"
"Don't you dare yell at me about Sam, I know what this is doing to--"
"I'm not talking about Sam!"
Dean opened his mouth, paused. Jo suddenly slumped, looked down, letting out an unhappy chuckle. "Dumbest hunter I've ever met."
"Jo--"
"Shut up, Dean." She looked up at him and opened her mouth a couple times, rejecting what she was going to say each time. Finally she looked down again and muttered, "Why'd you have to ruin everything?"
Dean took a breath, rubbed the back of his neck. "I wasn't trying to."
"Yeah, well. Good intentions."
He groaned a little. "Oh, please, you know how many times I've hear that one in the last nine months?"
She chuckled in spite of herself, and sniffed. Dean blinked. "Jo, are you--?"
"No."
"I was gonna say okay."
Another weak chuckle. "Same answer."
"Hey." He lifted a hand, paused, and then brushed her hair back. "Come on. I'm not worth all this."
Jo snorted, looking up. "You're not that dumb, Dean."
She swallowed, and brought her hands up as if she was going to cup his face in them. Hesitating, she dropped them to his shoulders instead, smoothing his shirt down his arms, his pecs. Finally she looked up and touched his face, tentative.
His eyes fluttered briefly. "Jo . . ."
She kissed him before he could say anything else. His hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer; he noticed, in a detached sort of way, that she was up on her tiptoes, leaning against him for support. It was odd to think of her as so much shorter than him -- in-your-face Jo Harvelle, a hunter before anything else, no matter what her little blonde exterior suggested.
He broke the kiss, coming up for air. Jo blinked at him.
"I think this is a really bad idea," he managed.
Jo hid it well, but he could see that hit her hard. She moved her hands back to his shoulders, very deliberately, and whispered, "I thought we were good at those."
"I'm great at them," he replied, husky. "I just. I mean. I don't think this is a bad idea. I think this right now is a bad idea."
"Why?"
"'Cause. I don't -- we're gonna be on the road together for at least a couple days. I don't want it to be all awkward for everyone."
"That's ridiculous."
"No. Jo, look at me, look at me." She obeyed, and he brushed her hair back with one hand again, the other still on her waist. "I mean it. Really. I really do."
She looked into his eyes for a long time, searching to see if he was telling the truth. Finally she nodded, whispering, "I believe you."
"Thank you." He pulled her closer, into a hug; her arms went around his neck, her face into his shoulder. "I'm sorry I'm such a dumbass, Jo."
"Yeah, well," she replied, muffled, "sometimes it's charming."
They stayed like that for a minute. Finally, Jo stepped back, running a hand over her mouth. "I guess if we're gonna get to Bobby's tomorrow we ought to get some sleep."
Dean nodded agreement and walked her to the door. "Yeah. Is Nita gonna ride with you or what?"
"Probably. I'll go ask her what she wants to do."
"Okay. G'night, Jo."
She took his hand briefly, squeezed, before stepping outside into the chilly night air. "G'night, Dean."
He closed the door behind her and stood there for a moment, just breathing.
"Goddammit."
Turning, he flopped onto the bed and ran his hands over his face. He'd heard once that the secret to success was sincerity: once you can fake that, you've got it made. It looked like it was true. He'd told her the truth -- he didn't want things to get awkward, between them, between him and Sam, between all three of them and the teenager traveling with them -- but he'd been scared, for a minute, that she'd realize it wasn't the whole truth.
Because really, he knew that when he slept with Jo, if he slept with Jo, he'd be saying goodbye. Maybe she did know that. Maybe that was why she'd come over tonight.
He wasn't ready to do that yet. Three months was a long time. Could be a long time.
Three months was nothing. But he wasn't ready.