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

"And that fact your brother isn't here."

Jo shot back adding to Sam's list with a grin.

Sam tips his head, agreeing to that much with a smile. "True. The couch bunnies aren't usually allowed to stay while he's gone."

"Probably because they make the mistake of asking."
Jo totally never asked the first time she showed.

She broke into his flat instead that time.

Edited 2011-10-24 02:19 (UTC)

"And usually 'boyfriend' makes him run, rather than invite them to stay over."

He pauses for a moment, then nods to the kitchen. "I'm getting a beer."

This is an invitation.

Jo followed him.
Bare feet padding quietly.

"Guess I'm a riot of miracles, then."

Also, pretty damn gone on his brother, too.

Honestly, some things he will never understand.

He turns his back on her, which proves nothing, really. The wand is still within easy reach. And he has to bend to reach into the fridge - again, not vulnerable. But neither is Sam going to any special effort to pretend he is.

It's almost casual.

"So you're planning on being a fixture, then," he comments, straightening with two bottles, one offered to her.

Almost casual. Almost a test. Almost a dare.

She almost wants to tell him.
Can't help wondering if Dean will.

But instead she took the beer.

She's never chosen to be someone elses secret.
Not one who almost knew everything. Or close enough.

Jo popped the cap off using the edge of a kitchen counter.

While grimacing at Sam's choice of words.
"You make it sound like furniture."

Jo Harvelle didn't stay anywhere.
The same with her real work.

She just kept coming back.
And let Dean know that.

That made him grin, even shrugging and finding the bottle opener without looking - the usual drawer, usual place. "You seemed comfortable enough on the couch while some strange guy walked in. That's pretty fixed."

Or rather well into expecting him.
The other Winchester still alive.

She had to meet Sam sometime.
Dean, girlfriend, and all.

It's a twisted up both lie and truth.

"Maybe you didn't look like much of threat?"
Jo gave him a mockingly innocent smirk for that.

He's got enough of a sense of humor to shrug this off, nod as if it's even vaguely plausible.

He scares people on accident. Sam isn't too worried about being taken as overly cuddly.

"Guess I'll have to work harder on my Scary Face."

Jo grinned, shaking her head.
More than a foot taller.
And far broader.
Than her.

A walking mountain.

And that was without his talents.

Jo took a drink of her beer. Casually.

"So, what brings you here today?"

She guessed his name - pictures would be enough for a connection, but his name means Dean talked about him, explained him. The relationship, at least.

"I have family in the area."

Which is no excuse not to be coy, if she insists, too.

She's too relaxed, too calm, too cool to be anything but knowledgable in the more interesting areas of this life.

Or that she researched the hell out of them.

When she was considering whether to stay.

When she still thought she got a vote.

"Oh. I'm sorry he's not here."
Because it's polite. Partially.

"Did you want to wait for Dean?"

Edited 2011-10-24 23:50 (UTC)

"I was thinking about it."

Since he's in the kitchen, with a beer, and his wand not attached to his fingers.

Huh. Sam Winchester, himself. For company.

"I don't mind. This place rarely gets company."

Which wasn't true or false, but it did sound easy.

There's a moment of silence, of blinking, of something close to a frown.

Like it's her apartment he's visiting, or somehow her space. Like it would bother her, or he was asking her permission, to wait in his brother's apartment. And the apartment 'rarely gets,' like she's there enough to notice.

The bottle rests against his lips for a small swallow and Sam lowers it with a smile. "What'd you say your name was again?"

Besides 'Jo.'

"Jo." Beat. "Harvelle."

There's such a small smile.

Daring him to do it on the spot.
Put together the part he does know.

Because there's two pieces he could.
Just with her last name. If he wanted.

It's not hard.

Grow up the way Sam did, all the secrets kept that were dumped on top of them after their father died... He's not sure what all Dean knows - chose to know - but Sam followed every lead to the end, made sure he knew everything his father knew. No more secrets, no more surprises.

So the bottle lowers slowly to his side and his eyes - which were not hard even a moment ago - soften considerably.

"You're Bill's daughter."

"And Ellen's." Jo corrected.
But she might have been beaming.

She liked being William Harvelle's Daughter.
Even if no one really got the reference anymore.

Beaming is not the response he expected, looking at the daughter of the man John Winchester shot between the eyes.

Sam's eyebrow lifts but he's not about to criticize her happiness. Just... the last person he'd expect to shack up with his brother.

"Well... hi. Your mom has a nice bar."

"I'm still a fan of it." Jo nodded.

"Though she says I never visit enough."

"Parents do that."

He's heard.

"That's how you met Dean?"

Not that he had to worry about that now.

"Oh, no." Jo shook her head, smiling at the honest memory of it in her head. "Though I probably did my mom proud that day. Your brother was waiting for some mysterious friend, being a right arse the day I met him."

When he gave her the best introduction to herself she'll ever remember.

Bill Harvelle was British, but as familiar as he's gotten with American hunters, with that Roadhouse, it's weird to hear Ellen Harvelle's daughter say 'arse.'

"Right so... you met him on a day ending with Y, then."

"I still give him crap for it."
Though mostly for his man!crush.

Even if he says he got the best of both worlds.
When he was allowed to imply he had her at all.

"The pretty face only gets him so far."

With.....apparently everything ever.
That no one else got from her.

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