Work Text:
The foot of snow outside their cabin might have been more annoying if Jo wasn't so amused at Dean's grumbling. They'd posed as a honeymooning couple and rented the cabin to try to smoke out a spirit that was killing newlyweds. That part hadn't taken all that long. Though the ghost had been cremated, some of her hair was still on a hair brush. A quick salt and burn seemed to do the job. They hadn't even needed to leave the resort. Which was currently the problem.
Jo looked from Dean to the Impala and back, a faint smile on her lips.
"Should have taken my truck, Princess. Your baby can't handle this snow."
Dean glared at her, but that only made Jo's smile widen. She reached up to take his arm and lead him back into the cabin.
"Come on, let's go raid the minibar."
It was a little higher end than her usual accommodations, but when in Rome... And if they were stuck here a little longer, than Jo was determined that they were going to enjoy themselves. Hunting didn't offer a lot of off days and there sure wasn't a lot of sunshine and rainbows. She'd known that getting into the life, but that didn't stop her from grabbing little bits of happiness when she could get them. From what she knew of the last few years in Dean's life, he could use the smile even more than she could.
"My baby can handle just about anything," Dean shot back as they headed inside.
"Yeah? So you're ready to head back to Kansas now?" Jo asked, which silenced Dean to a pouty sort of glare.
----
Dean didn't like plans getting off track. He had a life filled with responsibilities and places he was supposed to be. He might not have another hunt pressing right now, but he hadn't felt comfortable taking much time off in ages. It seemed like every time he did try to turn his back on hunting, someone else got hurt. Though, hell, even when he was right where he was supposed to, people still sometimes got hurt.
When he'd first met Jo Harvelle, he would have taken advantage of this situation in a heartbeat. A few more drinks in and he certainly considered it. What better way to stay warm, after all? The trouble with Jo was that she wasn't some easy lay. He couldn't just sleep with her and then not call her again. And he was pretty sure that if he went down that road, he wouldn't want to pull his usual cut and run act. He knew darn well that she deserved better, but it was hard to ignore the way she made a pair of sweats and a t-shirt look sexier than any lingerie or stripper getup he'd seen. He'd seen a lot of women dressed up to impress, but there was something much more appealing to seeing a woman he cared about dressed down for lounging around. His displeasure at getting stuck spending the night in the honeymoon cabin with Jo had as much to do with the way his mind kept turning to her lately. Even when he hadn't heard from her in months, he still sometimes thought about the possibility and tried to find ways to make it work.
The trouble was that he couldn't imagine any way this could end except with blood. Women who fell in with Winchesters didn't last all that long usually.
Four glasses of cheap vodka in, he had a hard time remembering why he hadn't tried anything with her before now. It didn't help when she returned from stoking the fireplace and sat close enough that their elbows were touching. She tucked one leg under herself and smiled up at him as she shifted a bit to get comfortable. The loveseat didn't leave much room for anything but getting cuddly. Then again, that was probably the point. Dean wondered vaguely if the people who'd furnished this room had ever imagined a scenario such as this-where two platonic coworkers (of sorts) would be forced into close quarters.
Probably not.
He finally threw his arm over the back of the loveseat. Not quite touching Jo, but it certainly made things a little more comfortable, even if he was all but painfully aware of how close she was now.
To his surprise, Jo laughed softly and looked up at him as she took the arm as invitation to lean into him.
"You need to relax, Dean-o. I don't have cooties, I promise."
He smirked then and let his hand rest on her shoulder.
"Cooties? Because we're 12 now?"
Jo shrugged, her cheeks rosy with the whiskey she'd consumed earlier. She could keep up with him, he'd noted. He supposed that all those years behind the bar had been good for something.
"Hey, you're the one acting like we're kids on our first date. Look, if this is about... you know that I gave up on my crush on you a few years back, right?"
He felt a tug in his gut and somehow didn't find that all that reassuring.
"You did?"
"Yeah, I did. I mean, you're okay and all, but I don't want to be another notch in Dean Winchester's carved up bedpost." She gave him a smile. "It's okay, I get it. It seems to be a hunter thing."
He suddenly found himself wondering if she was including herself in the whole 'hunter thing' and if so, he found that he didn't like the idea all that much.
"Besides, I know that you just see me as a kid sister type," she said.
Dean laughed to himself and took his arm back to lean forward and take another drink.
"That's what you think?" He didn't confirm nor deny, but he did look down at her.
She frowned, looking at little confused.
"I sort of figured, since I'm probably the only woman over 20 in the US that hasn't been on the receiving end of one of those famous Dean Winchester lines."
He almost would have smiled at that. Famous. A younger him might have even been proud of infamy. He didn't say anything for awhile. Simply kept his hands on his drink and tried his best to avoid touching her on the couch. It wasn't too easy, since she took up an awful lot of space for such a petite woman. Or the couch really was that snug. He was thankful for the distraction of the TV-she'd turned on a rerun of Dr. Sexy. He just had to try to hide his interest as she gave him a brief overview of the plot-as if he hadn't seen it before. Little did she know.
On a commercial break, he looked down at her.
"Ever think that I never tried anything because I thought you deserved better? Or because I had a feeling that if you and I went down that road, it wouldn't be a one night or weekend thing. It would last until it ended bloody."
He could see by the flickering light cast from the TV and dying fire that Jo was still awake, though she didn't respond right away. In fact, he had almost convinced himself that she hadn't heard him when she finally did say something.
"Ever think that you're full of crap?"
He had to laugh at that. Some of the tension seemed to evaporate from his muscles when he did. He put his arm over the back of the couch again, but fought the impulse to simply wrap it around her.
"Of course I'm full of crap. Everyone knows that."
"Wow," Jo said, putting her drink down for a mock slow clap. "At least admission is the first step toward a cure. Or one of the steps," she said lightly. "Look, Dean. Hunters don't have a long shelf life. You and I both know that. It sucks, but it's supposed to give us a reason to enjoy what time we have. We're not supposed to use it as an excuse to be a coward."
"A what?" Dean growled.
"You heard me," she said. "You're scared of actually getting serious with someone. Like you said, you're scared of losing them. Maybe you're scared that you don't know how to be in a relationship. Or scared of getting hurt or scared of the change. Who knows. The point is-you want something, you have to hang onto for dear life for however long you get."
He stared down at her wordlessly. Jo Harvelle did have a knack for seeing through his bs and calling him on it. It was part of what made her so intriguing even as it pushed him outside of her comfort zone.
She sighed.
"Or maybe I need to take my own advice."
Before he had a chance to ask what she meant or respond, she'd leaned up and her lips were on his. If he'd had any more arguments against going down this road left, they died with that kiss. His arm moved from the back of the couch to wrap around her, pulling her as close as she'd let him. She tasted like cherry chapstick and whiskey and that was now his favorite combination of flavors.
They moved against each other for a few more minutes, lips and arms and bodies coming together as though they'd been held back for much too long. Then just as quickly, she broke the kiss and pulled away.
"You just tell me if you figure out a way around your mental roadblocks, Dean. I'm taking the bed, princess."
It was funny that he minded that nickname less, coming from Jo. It almost brought some levity to the moment. Dean stood and grabbed her arm.
"Like hell you are. Aren't we supposed to convince these people that we're a couple?"
Jo stopped and stared up at him, a little bit of confusion tugging at her expression.
"Dean-" she started, but he cut her off.
"Yeah, I know. You're not going to sleep with me on the first date. But it can't hurt to keep each other warm, can it?"
She still looked confused, but took a step closer.
"If we're calling this a date, you're at least going to buy me breakfast tomorrow."
He nodded.
"Yeah, okay."
They would need to work out the particulars over breakfast, he knew that. They'd have to figure out who would hunt with who and lay some ground rules. The work was just beginning, and he knew that too. But somehow, he realized that Jo was right. He couldn't see letting more time go by without her. Not when he was really honest with himself.
She smiled slowly and led him toward the king sized bed and settled into his arms once they'd gotten under the covers. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Dean Winchester was right where he was supposed to be.