[ the pull of the shower curtain snaps him out of his thoughts, and he turns to her quickly, then relaxes. it’s just jo, and the thought warms him up in a place the hot water can’t touch. ]
[ he gives her a smile, one he’d never use in the daylight and one he’d deny ever giving, but dean’s forever feeling vulnerable around her, and not just for the nudity. ]
Sure you can handle this?
[ it’s a mask, like everything is around dean— a yes, please. that dean’s comfortable sharing his private space with her. intimate, careful, and for once he’s not running away. ]
playfully, she rolls her eyes, and lets the curtain fall back into place between them.
❛y'know somehow i think i’ll manage.❜
while she strips away her clothing, she casts a look at his large form obscured by the filmy material, and remarks to herself how familiar he’s gotten, how he hardly manages to intimidate her as he used to. she supposes bearing all to a person tends to squash some of that.
fully naked, and only half-insecure, she turns from the reflection of her newly-exposed flesh. stepping into the shower behind him, her hand wraps around his bicep to steady herself.
Yeah. Demon. Sliced open her stomach, pinned her to the ceiling.
She was in Sammy’s room, checking up on him. Don’t remember much, just the heat, the look in my dad’s eyes. Carrying Sammy out the front door. Knew she wasn’t makin’ it outta that house.
[ he goes silent for a long moment, and this silence is heavy, wrought with anger and sadness. ]
Shoulda slept in her room that night. Could’ve done— something. Dunno what, just.
Wish she hadn’t got outta bed.
[ the rules that come with the winchester name didn’t come to pass until after that fire ate up the only thing keeping all of them sane. dean remembers his mom’s rules being to smile and remember that the sun will always come out in the morning. to remember that no matter what, someone will always love him. that he’s a strong boy, but it’s okay to cry sometimes and be weak. that he’s her little angel. ]
[ dad changed those rules. soldiers, all of them. careful, silent, obedient. loyal. ]
jo watches him, and after a long pause, it’s so apparent to her that his shoulders have always sagged with the weight of his words, and of his life-long guilt, and she thinks, how could i not have noticed before? how could i have been so blind?
her head leans carefully against his shoulder, her forearm pressed against the length of his forearm, and her eyes begging to close, but they stare into the dark, plagued by mental pictures too terrifying to let her mind linger on for too long.
but somehow, some way, she feels like she owes that much. to dean, and to his mother, and to their family, to think about what happened and not to push it out of her mind because it seems too painful to comprehend.
❛i’m sorry. i don’t you can’t hold that over yourself, dean. not if you don’t have to. ❜
[ for a moment, he forgets himself, and lets himself admire her, the curve of her neck and the curl of her blonde hair all the way down to those too, too long legs. how she manages to pull off just-woke-up, dean has absolutely no idea, but it’s a look he wouldn’t mind seeing on her every morning. ]
[ but those are dangerous thoughts to have. ]
[ and dean’s pretty out of it, so he doesn’t smile back, doesn’t even catch it as his eyes dart around the rest of her, curious and cautious. she’s never done this before, not even on dean’s darkest days. probably especially on dean’s darkest days. he wonders what makes today different. ]
[ not for the first time, he wonders what makes him different. why she likes him. he’s so goddamn awful to her most of the time, and still she smiles at him, comes to comfort him in his bed when she can fucking well tell he’s having a bad day. ]
[ the words don’t quite process at first, dean’s sleepy brain working hard to catch up. his eyes follow her the whole time, but don’t react until she tucks down the bed sheet. he wonders if he’s dreaming. ]
[ but sleepy brain registers the command for what it is, and he lays down, eyelids heavy, but not with sleep. ]
his warmth pools around him in between the sheets, and cold as she is, she slides in closer to capture some of it for herself. he’s something special, she thinks to herself, i left the safety of my bed, for his. her muscles, wiry and tender, are heavy from a hard days work. her body begs her for sleep, so she settles down herself, turning on her side, and staying close to his.
the smile slides off her face, lost on him, and though her body is tired, her mind keeps turning, the effort almost painful. her temple finds a niche against his shoulder. why is she here? it’s not an easy answer. and to be frank, she hadn’t given it much thought. because he needed her? that’s not true. because he would’ve done the same? that’s not even remotely true.
it hadn’t really crossed her mind. he wasn’t doing too well, and she wanted to make it better. it’s not even all that questionable for her; she wants him to be happy, and that was shot to hell before they met. before she was born. so, she’ll settle for making him better, while he’s here. for the next best thing.
her hand rests on his stomach, and finally, it seems, she closes her eyes. tries to make herself comfortable on the harder mattress, letting out a sleepy sigh. the bed is so unfamiliar, and so is he, but she’s so damn tired.
[ the creaking of the door has his eyes opening. the light temporarily blinds him, and he scrunches his nose, brain immediately switching to big brother mode. the only person who would come in here is sam. dean doesn’t like not sharing a room with him, and most of the time they will share, both here and at bobby’s house, but both brothers have been cagey and space will definitely be good for them right now. ]
[ he sits up, fingers sliding off mary’s picture. his bed head is still evident despite the fact that he hasn’t even slept yet, half of his hair pressed flat against his head and the other half sticking out wildly. the blanket slides down to his waist, cotton boxers peeking out from beneath it. he peers over to the door, fully expecting to see six feet of little brother hulking behind it. ]
[ instead, he’s pretty sure he’s dreaming. his expression changes to one of complete confusion, then a bit of sleepy vulnerability because dean’s guessing sam wasn’t the only one who noticed he was acting off tonight. his game was off, missing jo’s witty retorts more often than not before excusing himself to bed early. ]
[ still, he doesn’t know why she’s here, or what for. does she need something? did he leave something in the bathroom again? ]
she’ll stand there, her shadow cast larger than life on the adjacent wall, at a loss for words. suddenly, her legs feel too bare, and she feels cold, and too nervous. as if, at moment he’s going to tell her to go back to her room. as if he might get up and close the door in her face. but he doesn’t. he just looks at her with his hair a mess, and the little gate he fashions in the daylight let down.
a slight shiver runs over her, her arms hugging the warmth against her lean frame. she hesitates for just a moment, unsure of really what she wants to do. how she could help. how she could possibly make any of this better. honestly, she just wants to see him smile, so she’ll try her own, and it’s goofy. sleep deprived. she’s embarrassed, and rubs at her forehead with the bunched up cuff of her sweatshirt.
deftly, she slips in through the doorway, and with a soft, swish, and click, closes the door behind her. with just the dim light seeping in from the window, she makes her way to the bed, her hand feeling around for the edge. she can see his face fine, the low light casting shadows across his cheek.
her thin hand feels around for the edge of the duvet. her heart is jumping in her chest. there’s an air of foreboding here, but just over it, the conviction of comfort. still smiling, she peels the blanket back, climbing in between the sheets. her soft shins run across his thigh, as she makes a place for herself in the guest bed.
