Lonely Is The Night
Summary: He walked into the Roadhouse the same way he always walked into her life. Cocky stride, confident smirk in place. Baby brother at his side.
A/N- Okay no idea where this came from, I've been watching Supernatural for only week or so now and I started at the very beginning of the series. I instantly fell in love with Jo and Dean when I saw them together, but anyway I was looking up some music from the show (they have some incredible music on there) and found myself listening to 'Lonely Is The Night' by Billy Squier. Next thing I know I'm writing this.
I own absolutely nothing, I only borrow them at the insistence of the plot bunnies who threaten to do horrible things to me if I don't.
He walked into the Roadhouse the same way he always walked into her life. Cocky stride, confident smirk in pace. Baby brother at his side.
They made quite a pair, turning heads in every one horse town they came across. No doubt leaving marks on the hearts of more than a few girls like herself. She wonders if any of the others figured it out before it was too late.
Because she knew in her gut, that one night with Dean Winchester would leave her branded for life. It was hard enough as it was, battling the bats and butterflies that took over her stomach as soon as he walked into the room. The flash of heat that swept through her body when his eyes took in the entire room in one all seeing glance, that always seemed to land on her. Or the answering smile that never failed to arise when he gave her a real, true smile; instead of that teasing smirk that seamed permanently plastered to his face.
It was eerie how her body knew he was in the room before she did. The hair on the back of her neck would rise, her heart beat faster; as if it were racing to meet his own. Her palms sweating as her body temperature rises.
She couldn't decide which was worse; the weeks, sometimes months that she spent at the bar, lingering every time she heard the name 'Winchester'. Hoping that he would call, if only for information; but knowing that he never would. Ash and her mother would casually mention when they had heard from either him or Sam. Pretending for her sake that they only brought it up in passing, then exchanging glances when she turned away.
But feeling her body's reaction to his presence, even though she had yet to raise her eyes to meet his. Knowing that the moment she did she would fall into those green eyes all over again. She almost hated him for the hopelessness he made her feel. Almost.
But another; braver, stupider, part of her rejoiced at the rush of emotions. As if with just one look he could release the heart that she fought so hard to put away. He and Sam fought their war against the supernatural, while where ever she went her own battle raged between her head and her heart.
She ignored the way everyone's eyes fixed on him when he walked into the room, then snapped to catch her reaction. The worried frown her mother would send in her direction. They all knew, all felt the tension that began to heat the room whenever the two were in the same place. Everyone felt it, heard it, saw it, but no one spoke of it. She loved them all for that.
She pulled another bottle from the crate and put it in its place on the shelves behind the bar. She didn't need the mirror that lined the wall behind the bottles to know when he approached the bar. Instead of giving him what she knew he wanted, she fixed her eyes on the shelves below the bar as she turned around.
Knelt down the restock them as well, she bit back a smile as she sensed him lean over the bar to look at her.
'Are you ignoring me?' he asked in his usual mocking tone.
She forced back the feelings that rippled through her at the sound of his voice. It would do her no good to let him see how he affected her.
'No, just figured with everyone else staring, you might get a complex.'
He didn't seem to have noticed until she said something, so as she placed a beer in front of him he let his eyes roam the room.
Sure enough everyone was watching them. He smirked at their interest. Wondering only briefly if they felt the air around him and Jo boil like he did. It had gotten so bad that even Sam stayed a safe distance away.
He took a sip of his beer and took her in. She looked the same as she always did. Tousled blond hair settled against her shoulders, soulful brown eyes fought to evade his own. Her skin was the softest thing he had ever seen, and her lips were the only pink thing he had ever seen her wear.
Once again he felt the wonder that struck him as he noted how small she was. Petite was the only word to describe her. She looked fragile, breakable, like something to be worshiped and touched only with the most genteel touch.
Looks are deceiving they say, he knew that to be especially true in her case. That unblemished skin glowed pearly white to distract from the muscles that threaded beneath it. And he knew from personal experience that her little hand could turn into a powerful punch without a split seconds notice.
Brown eyes could change from the soulfulness that he loved, to a murderous glare that he loved even more. Born of two hunters, her slender body was ideal for fighting. And he knew that sweet smile she occasionally let him see revealed only a glimpse of a heart that was loyal and held a strength frighten him just a little.
She was as soft as silk and as tough as nails. In personality as much as body. It was a contrast and combination that drove him crazy.
Lying in a hotel bed with Sam sleeping across the room, his mind would drift back to her. His memory projecting her against his closed lids with such clarity she could have been standing in front of him. Like she was now. Avoiding his eyes, keeping her hands busy, anything to pretend she didn't notice his staring.
He would often finding himself wondering why he didn't just make a move. End the almost painful tension between them. Maybe then they could have a conversation without the strangling urge to touch one another and laying into one another because neither could bring them self to make the first move.
Lying awake at night when he should have been sleeping, he would promise himself that next time he would make a move. Maybe he would ask to speak to her alone, or maybe catch her alone and push her against the nearest solid surface; give them what they both wanted. Or maybe he would just run his fingers into that hair of hers, and kiss her for all he was worth, right there in front of everyone.
But each time he stepped into the Roadhouse, he always backed out. Something inside him warning that once, twice, a dozen times would never be enough.
So instead telling her what he was really feeling, he did what he was best at. He dropped a corny pick-up line and gave her that smirk that had melted the hearts of many and most.
But Jo was one of a kind, so she handed him another beer and gave in to him, finally meeting his eyes. Brown met green in a look that said it all. She knew exactly what he was feeling, and she was feeling it too.
Okay like I said, no idea where this came from. All I know is that its two minutes from midnight, so HAPPY NEW YEARS!
Could possibly add a second part later on, let me know what you think.