Fic: Through your eyes
Title : Through your eyes (The five times John sees Jo when nobody else can)
Author : joans23
Pairing : John/Jo, also Dean/Jo and implied John/Ellen
Rating : R
Words : approx 1,100
Warning : Underage (Jo is 15 at one stage)
Summary : She’s a slip of a girl, blond hair wild tangles around her dirt streaked face when John first sees her.
Thank you to quiet-rebel for the beta!
One
The inside of the bar is dark and dusty and a woman is standing behind a bright light at the far end of the counter.
John stands one step inside the door and waits for his eyes to adjust. The silence is thick and clingy until she breaks it.
“John.”
“Ellen.”
Neither makes any move to bridge the gap between them. There is a hissed “Sammy!” as the younger boy’s curiosity gets the better of him and he sneaks a peak past his fathers legs.
Ellen lowers the shotgun and John lets the boys circle around to stand in front of him, keeps them in place with a heavy hand resting on each of their shoulders.
“Why don’t you boys go on and play out back with Jo. Me and your daddy have some business to attend to.”
The boys stay put, waiting for John to release them and nudge them in the right direction.
They teased her and pulled on her ponytail until she took shelter behind the old shed. She sits quietly where she can’t see them, only hear their wild laughter and the dull thump, thump of the brightly coloured plastic rackets whacking the swing-ball from side to side.
“Don’t mind them, they’re just being boys.”
She squints up at John through dirty bangs, wipes furiously at the tears marking dusty tracks down her cheeks.
He hands her a handkerchief, unpractical white and strangely clean.
“I know what you’re thinking. You wish you could have been a boy too, show them who’s boss. But don’t you fret. One day you’ll be just as strong as they are. Stronger. Like your momma.”
She doesn’t answer, only eyes him suspiciously until he finally moves away. Jo leans around the corner to watch him walk towards his boys who drop her toys as soon as they spot him.
That night she wraps her daddy’s knife in the stained cloth, one pair of initials resting tightly against the other.
Two
The Impala is half hidden under the old basswood out back. The wind is whipping its branches against the windows and the moon is playing along, hiding behind whispery clouds.
The windows are completely fogged shut and John doesn’t have to use much imagination to guess what Dean’s doing parked behind the Roadhouse. With a shake of his head he starts to turn, going back inside for another beer or two while Dean finishes up. John wonders who his eldest has managed to charm into that well-worn backseat tonight.
A slender hand slaps against the glass with a sharp smack, splayed fingers trail down slowly to unveil a thin strip of their secret rendezvous.
John doesn’t mean to look, glimpses the familiar features before he can force his gaze away.
Jo is riding Dean, slow and deliberate rocking of jutting hips held firmly in place by his son’s hands. Her curls are wilted, stringy hair plastered against her small sweaty breasts as she tilts unseeing eyes towards the roof. She’s biting down hard on her bottom lip, so close to spilling over the edge.
John tries and fails to ignore the hard-on pressing against the zipper of his jeans as he backs away, stops to press the flat of his hand hard against his groin, closes his eyes and tries to conjure the image of the week-old corpse they had dug up the day before.
He skips going back inside, takes the long way around the building and walks towards the motel instead. How can he look Ellen in the face and ask for another round when the thought of her fifteen year old daughter probably losing her virginity in the backseat of his car has him harder than he’s been in nearly twenty years?
He resists the urge to jerk off when he gets undressed and slips between the bleach-worn sheets, runs that new exorcism ritual he got from Bobby through his head over and over until he finally falls asleep.
Three
John stops dead in his tracks when it becomes clear that this damsel is definitely not in distress.
She’s taking on two vampires at once, blond tresses swinging as free and easy as her machete.
He keeps a close eye though, almost steps in once when one manages to draw blood clawing across her cheek. Before he can take half a step though, its head is making a dull sound as it connects with the ground.
She hasn’t noticed him yet, takes a moment to lean on her bloody weapon breathing heavily.
“That was good. You should check your right shoulder though; you drop it too low when you feint to the left.”
She doesn’t jerk her gaze up, straightens slowly and wipes the blade against her jean clad leg. Maybe he wasn’t as unseen as he had thought.
Jo regards him with a dangerous light glinting in her hard eyes. Her set mouth relaxes only enough to give him a faint glimmer of a smile and John again sees that little girl with the wild hair and the broken heart.
She steps in close, turns to fit her back tightly against his chest.
“Show me.”
Four
The flames are high, licking dangerously up into the midnight heavens.
Jo is holding herself very still as she peers into the heart of the fire, at the blues and oranges curling around and through her loss.
“I didn’t ask you to come.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t need you to come.”
“I know that too.”
Five
He’s got her on her back with her legs spread as wide as they’ll go. She squirms against the two fingers he has buried deep inside her cunt as he mouths over her breasts, fuller and softer now. Her hands are tangled in his hair, pushing and pulling in equal parts.
Jo’s quiet except for a few quiet murmurs when John traces over the scars across her stomach with calloused fingertips.
“Jo. So beautiful. So strong.”
John whispers against her skin when he pushes into her. He grips her hands, laces his fingers through hers when she tries to pull away. Jo won’t look at him, keeps her eyes fixed on where their shadows fall against the far wall. Her hips rise to meet his with each thrust, takes him all the way inside as he fucks into her tight wet heat.
She’s sitting on the edge of the bed when he wakes up, fully dressed and ready to go. He wants to reach out, run a hand down the knobbly ridge of her spine, pull her back down to him. Knows he can make her stay if he tried.
Jo pauses at the door, her face turned slightly towards him so John can see her profile framed by golden sunrise. He waits for her to speak, but she only reaches back for the door to close it firmly behind her.
Author : joans23
Pairing : John/Jo, also Dean/Jo and implied John/Ellen
Rating : R
Words : approx 1,100
Warning : Underage (Jo is 15 at one stage)
Summary : She’s a slip of a girl, blond hair wild tangles around her dirt streaked face when John first sees her.
Thank you to quiet-rebel for the beta!
One
The inside of the bar is dark and dusty and a woman is standing behind a bright light at the far end of the counter.
John stands one step inside the door and waits for his eyes to adjust. The silence is thick and clingy until she breaks it.
“John.”
“Ellen.”
Neither makes any move to bridge the gap between them. There is a hissed “Sammy!” as the younger boy’s curiosity gets the better of him and he sneaks a peak past his fathers legs.
Ellen lowers the shotgun and John lets the boys circle around to stand in front of him, keeps them in place with a heavy hand resting on each of their shoulders.
“Why don’t you boys go on and play out back with Jo. Me and your daddy have some business to attend to.”
The boys stay put, waiting for John to release them and nudge them in the right direction.
They teased her and pulled on her ponytail until she took shelter behind the old shed. She sits quietly where she can’t see them, only hear their wild laughter and the dull thump, thump of the brightly coloured plastic rackets whacking the swing-ball from side to side.
“Don’t mind them, they’re just being boys.”
She squints up at John through dirty bangs, wipes furiously at the tears marking dusty tracks down her cheeks.
He hands her a handkerchief, unpractical white and strangely clean.
“I know what you’re thinking. You wish you could have been a boy too, show them who’s boss. But don’t you fret. One day you’ll be just as strong as they are. Stronger. Like your momma.”
She doesn’t answer, only eyes him suspiciously until he finally moves away. Jo leans around the corner to watch him walk towards his boys who drop her toys as soon as they spot him.
That night she wraps her daddy’s knife in the stained cloth, one pair of initials resting tightly against the other.
Two
The Impala is half hidden under the old basswood out back. The wind is whipping its branches against the windows and the moon is playing along, hiding behind whispery clouds.
The windows are completely fogged shut and John doesn’t have to use much imagination to guess what Dean’s doing parked behind the Roadhouse. With a shake of his head he starts to turn, going back inside for another beer or two while Dean finishes up. John wonders who his eldest has managed to charm into that well-worn backseat tonight.
A slender hand slaps against the glass with a sharp smack, splayed fingers trail down slowly to unveil a thin strip of their secret rendezvous.
John doesn’t mean to look, glimpses the familiar features before he can force his gaze away.
Jo is riding Dean, slow and deliberate rocking of jutting hips held firmly in place by his son’s hands. Her curls are wilted, stringy hair plastered against her small sweaty breasts as she tilts unseeing eyes towards the roof. She’s biting down hard on her bottom lip, so close to spilling over the edge.
John tries and fails to ignore the hard-on pressing against the zipper of his jeans as he backs away, stops to press the flat of his hand hard against his groin, closes his eyes and tries to conjure the image of the week-old corpse they had dug up the day before.
He skips going back inside, takes the long way around the building and walks towards the motel instead. How can he look Ellen in the face and ask for another round when the thought of her fifteen year old daughter probably losing her virginity in the backseat of his car has him harder than he’s been in nearly twenty years?
He resists the urge to jerk off when he gets undressed and slips between the bleach-worn sheets, runs that new exorcism ritual he got from Bobby through his head over and over until he finally falls asleep.
Three
John stops dead in his tracks when it becomes clear that this damsel is definitely not in distress.
She’s taking on two vampires at once, blond tresses swinging as free and easy as her machete.
He keeps a close eye though, almost steps in once when one manages to draw blood clawing across her cheek. Before he can take half a step though, its head is making a dull sound as it connects with the ground.
She hasn’t noticed him yet, takes a moment to lean on her bloody weapon breathing heavily.
“That was good. You should check your right shoulder though; you drop it too low when you feint to the left.”
She doesn’t jerk her gaze up, straightens slowly and wipes the blade against her jean clad leg. Maybe he wasn’t as unseen as he had thought.
Jo regards him with a dangerous light glinting in her hard eyes. Her set mouth relaxes only enough to give him a faint glimmer of a smile and John again sees that little girl with the wild hair and the broken heart.
She steps in close, turns to fit her back tightly against his chest.
“Show me.”
Four
The flames are high, licking dangerously up into the midnight heavens.
Jo is holding herself very still as she peers into the heart of the fire, at the blues and oranges curling around and through her loss.
“I didn’t ask you to come.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t need you to come.”
“I know that too.”
Five
He’s got her on her back with her legs spread as wide as they’ll go. She squirms against the two fingers he has buried deep inside her cunt as he mouths over her breasts, fuller and softer now. Her hands are tangled in his hair, pushing and pulling in equal parts.
Jo’s quiet except for a few quiet murmurs when John traces over the scars across her stomach with calloused fingertips.
“Jo. So beautiful. So strong.”
John whispers against her skin when he pushes into her. He grips her hands, laces his fingers through hers when she tries to pull away. Jo won’t look at him, keeps her eyes fixed on where their shadows fall against the far wall. Her hips rise to meet his with each thrust, takes him all the way inside as he fucks into her tight wet heat.
She’s sitting on the edge of the bed when he wakes up, fully dressed and ready to go. He wants to reach out, run a hand down the knobbly ridge of her spine, pull her back down to him. Knows he can make her stay if he tried.
Jo pauses at the door, her face turned slightly towards him so John can see her profile framed by golden sunrise. He waits for her to speak, but she only reaches back for the door to close it firmly behind her.