[Flashback; Sam's First (Unofficial) Meeting]

[veneficusvenato]

Time: Back Then
Location: Dean's Flat
People: Jo, Sam (Maybe Dean)





The front door is open, because the late spring breeze is nice.

And Jo is laying on the couch, pulling a curl absently, while reading.

Comments

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

Dean's late home. He often is. He never expects to find Jo there, though she's had keys to both doors and wards for weeks now - but it always makes him grin when she is. Stretched out on his couch, reading his books, owning his little flat as unapologetically as she owns the rest of him.

She's not waiting for him to be anywhere; for all either of them know, with their jobs, Dean could have been home tonight, this morning, or not for three weeks. She's just here. And he's just here.

All this happening-to-be-where-the-other-is - Dean likes it. More than he'd ever have expected he would.

"Hey," he greets her, hanging his cloak by the door and sliding his hands into his jean pockets, grinning. "Hi, stranger."

[veneficusvenato]

Jo started smiling, looking up to find him, as she let the book tip and fall on her stomach. The edge of work not too long ago left. The better worn quiet of her own self, warming at the way he was grinning. Just the way he was standing there.

Perfectly Dean. Perfectly how he was every time she saw him.

How inappropriate was it to just ignore all his words and bury herself in his arms?
If she didn't love her job, she'd disapprove of them ever leaving here for work.

She at least went for moving to sit up ."Hey, you."

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

"Let me guess, you got a sudden craving for books?"

Dean grins at her, easy and relaxed and warm.

"Or is it just my cooking you can't live without?"

[veneficusvenato]

Jo wrinkled her nose. Copper eyes bright and shining.

"You're going to cook?" Beat. "I may have forgotten I have plans."

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

"My lasagne," Dean informs her, "is to die for. Guaranteed."

He cooked it a lot when Sam was little and Dad was busy. He's smirking at her, now, cheerful at the thought of cooking for her.

"If you don't like it you get a full refund."

[veneficusvenato]

"Of all my time and my effort?" Jo asked pertly.
Pushing herself off the couch finally.

Bare feet on the carpet.

She's been here a while, at it.


And there was too much room between them still.

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

Dean pulls his hands right out of his pockets and holds both arms out to her, open and welcoming. And grinning.

And adoring. And so in love.

[veneficusvenato]

The last steps are like flying. Because she launches herself into his arms with a bright glowing smile. Because she might have been here, in a place, that has things. But he's here now. Home.

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

Dean spins her, laughing, joyful. Because she's his Jo and she's in his arms and no matter how terrible his day was, he has his own tiny piece of sunshine in his arms.

And it's been way too long since he kissed her goodbye this morning. So he kisses her hello, first, a hand winding into her hair, holding her face.

"You. Hi."

[veneficusvenato]

Her lips dipped into a smirk.


"You already said that." Beat. "Twice."
But she doesn't even really care.



Not with her fingers still in his hair.

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

"I like saying it." Dean kisses that smirk, too, grinning at her, nose to her cheek. "Reminds me you're here."

In so many ways. Still here. Still his.

[veneficusvenato]

She can close her eyes and feel the way her chest expands, like it might swell too large for her frame. Still alive. All warm and breathing, burying his face against hers and her hair, lips against hers, against her skin.

The rough stubble and smell of work and that cloak.

And every minute of wait before this was worth it suddenly.
And every minute that existed before this vanishes entirely.


And she catches his lips, again. Before. No, twice.
How did she ever let him talk or walk out of here?

And then grinned, all smug. "Oh, I'm here. I might even be here for a few days. I might," with emphasis of this last word, "Have convinced them I earned two days off call for getting back two days early this weekend."

And even if there is no completely off call for WHD, she can dream.
Especially when her arms are around him, and there is not other world that this.

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

"You might?"

Dean kisses her, again.

Their conversations are all, always, a lot like this. Words, punctuated by kisses.

Because who knows how long this might last?

"Well."

Kisses.

"Good."

Kisses.

"I'm seeing myself coming down with a really nasty flu. Can't report in for at least two days, now."

[carpefatorummea.livejournal.com]

Things that are common to find in Dean's apartment:
Potato chips
Pie
Beer
Random girls

Though latter, really, only first thing in the morning or getting on into the evening.

So when Sam does not need his key to open the door, nor his wand to get rid of the usual (for Winchesters) wards, he expects something a lot more dangerous than the usual four on the list.

Though in early afternoon, the last is more than a little surprising.

There's a moment of puzzled staring as he stands just inside the door, wand hand inside his coat (holding the wand), the other still resting on the knob.

[veneficusvenato]

Jo doesn't move. Reading on.

(Though there are two tells already.)

The spine of her book resting on her breast bone.

[carpefatorummea.livejournal.com]

"Hi."


Which is so much better than the first question on his mind.

Whoever you are, why are you still here this long after breakfast?

[veneficusvenato]

Jo's mouth curved.

Trying to let a smile escape.
But it wasn't winning her yet.


Without dropping her book, she turned her head. "Hey."
A single steady look, but it took in several things about him.

[carpefatorummea.livejournal.com]

There is more puzzled look. And a little bit of frowning.



"I'm assuming you belong here," he says after a moment, stepping inside and pushing the door shut behind him. Right hand still buried in his coat, fingers curled with his wand.

"Which is confusing. Because I belong here, but I have no idea who you are."

[veneficusvenato]

She closed her book, pushing her self to sit up.
She pushed her hair behind her shoulders, bemused.


"That does sound like a safe assumption at least."

[carpefatorummea.livejournal.com]

"And that's the other thing," he continues, conversational as he approaches the couch, almost-smiling.

Wand in his hand, the words just waiting in his mind.

"You're being way more coy than any other woman I've ever seen in this apartment was ever capable of. It's concerning."

[veneficusvenato]

The hands in his pocket are predictable. But right or left.
Her bare feet hit the carpet, as her fingers ran through her hair.




"Is there a less concerning way to find unknown women on this couch?"

Because she's have to say she'd love to pin that one on Dean.
Right before threatening to curse him if she ever found one here.

[carpefatorummea.livejournal.com]

Lips quirked. Realizing just how easy it would be to ruin for Dean. To create some minor drama - assuming she was a minor fling.

Then he saw the book.

One of Dean's books.

...not one of the comic books.



"Nope. Never. Any woman in here, total surprise."

This is 'helping' but he still can't do it without grinning.

[veneficusvenato]

"Hopefully you're a better liar at other times."

Jo smirked, shaking her head. Light.

Even as she knew that truth.

[carpefatorummea.livejournal.com]

He grinned back at her, shrugged. "I try harder. Sometimes.

"And you are?"

[veneficusvenato]

"Jo." She tipped her head.

A hand landing on her right hip.
Her wand was in her back pocket.
But she wasn't going for it.



"And you're Sam."
Was not a question.
And not at all coy.