Jo hated working in the greasy little diner, but she'd long since realised that she didn't have the same knack for credit card fraud that Dean had. Particularly since everyone had bullied her into giving up the life. And a girl had to eat. So she put on her biggest smile and tried to swing her hips that little bit more. At least around Christmas the tips tended to be better, even if she'd had to dole out a few extra sprained wrists to those guys who were just 'looking for a little extra holiday company'.
A quick glance at the rickety old clock showed that it was only ten minutes until the end of her shift. She should have been thrilled. Christmas was finally here, she didn't have to work again until Boxing Day. And she'd tried so hard to get that time off too, so that she had as long as possible to play house with Pamela.
They had it all planned out, all the little cheesy bits and pieces (somehow Jo had convinced Pamela that the Grinch was a good choice of Christmas film). They weren't going to leave their room before lunchtime tomorrow. The liquor cabinet was full to bursting and Jo had it on good authority that Pamela was planning on spending the entire day baking her gorgeous mince pies.
At least she had if she'd gotten over the bombshell . And the uncertainty of the response was what had Jo's back up. Who knew how Pamela would take the news. So maybe Jo hadn't raised it in the most mature way possible. In fact she was pretty sure she'd just opened the door to the bathroom, yelled "Deanisgonnabestayingforchristmas" to the occupied shower and rushed out of their tiny flat. But surely Pamela couldn't still be mad could she?
She knew Dean and Pamela had a lot of history and weren't exactly the best of friends, but it's not like she could have left him on his own in a grotty motel room over Christmas. She could only hope that Pamela would understand. Except as Jo made her miserable journey home and tentatively opened the door there was a distinct lack of pastry-smell. That didn't bode well.
Trying to break through the undeniable tension Jo gave a giant grin and a loud yell. "Honey, I'm home."
With a sense of foreboding she stepped into the living-room, knowing something was wrong as soon as she set eyes on her distinctly pissed off girlfriend. Jo opened her mouth, but stopped the instant Pamela spun round. Pamela might not have her sight any more, but that didn't mean she wasn't 100% aware of what went on.
"Just don't bother, Jo. I'm not in the mood."
"Hey Pammy, it wasn't meant to be a big deal, Dean just rang needing a place to stay. I didn't think it would be an issue."
The look Pamela shot her at the nickname was nothing compared to the venom she injected into her reply. "Yeah sure, just invite your ex here, to my apartment, on Christmas without asking me. That's completely fine Jo. I'm glad you were so considerate of my feelings."
"How many times, he not my ex. He's just…"
"A guy you were completely and utterly in love with. Come on, I'm not stupid." And if that snarky comment didn't just set Jo's hackles up.
"Fuck off Pamela."
"Look, you knew I was going to be mad, that's why you didn't tell me until this morning. Obviously you know you're in the wrong."
"How is offering a friend a place to stay for Christmas 'in the wrong'?"
"Well for starters, maybe because him and his little buddies are the reason I don't have my sight!"
"You said you'd got over it."
"That doesn't mean I want to open a rescue home for lost Winchesters. You've completely ruined Christmas Jo."
As Pamela slammed the door to their bedroom, Jo found those last few words lodging in her gut.
She flipped her phone open and dialled the number. She didn't want to do this. But Pam was right, it was her flat and her rules. And that was part of the issue wasn't it. It wasn't Jo's flat, not really. But that was neither here or there at this point. Jo had a pissed off girlfriend to placate. The dialling tone didn't last for long as she heard Dean's voice pipe up at the other end of the phone.
"Hey Jo, sup?"
"Hey dude, look I don't think you're gonna be able to stay over at ours."
"Is it Pamela?"
"Yeah turns out she's not too happy with the idea of housing a Winchester. Sorry."
"No problem. Tell ya what, I'll give you a ring when I get here and you can come meet me, show me the town or whatnot? Get Pam to come too?"
"Sure, sounds like a plan Dean,"
She gave Pamela twenty minutes or so to cool off before she went to poke the raging bear. Softly opening the door revealed a Pamela with red eyes. It couldn't help but make Jo feel a little guilty, particularly as she stepped forward and caught sight of the pile of tissues next to the bed.
"Hey babe." Pamela just ignored her. "I cancelled it okay. Dean's not staying here, we can still do Christmas just like we planned."
At that Pam stirred a little, fixing her gaze a little more onto Jo. "Just us?"
"Yeah just us." Jo found herself yanked down onto the bed, familiar arms grasping her and hugging her tight.
She felt a lump forming in a throat, but that couldn't be right, because Harvelles did not cry. Instead of crying, she opted for a barely audible "'m sorry".
Pamela seemed to understand, drawing her in tighter to her warm embrace. "I'm sorry too. I didn't mean to be so snarky."
After a few moments wrapped up in comfortable warmness, Jo stirred. "But we don't have time for snuggling. I told Dean we'd go meet him for drinks in a bit."
She immediately felt Pamela's arms tensing around her, becoming almost like a vice. "What?"
"I told Dean we'd meet him."
"But you said that you'd told him he couldn't come, and that we were having Christmas as just us."
The accusatory tone behind Pamela's words instantly put Jo on the defensive. "Yeah but we've still got tomorrow. And he's still got the case and I can't let him come to town without taking him for a drink."
"Sure you can't!"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Jo's voice had raised to an embarrassingly high pitch.
"Nothing. You wanna go, then go. See if I care."
"Fine, I will." Before she had chance to regret the decision, Jo's hand was on the front door as she forced her way out, car keys in her hand. As much as she would like to end the silly fight right there and then, it just wasn't possible. Unfortunately neither Jo nor Pamela were known for their patience and soft temper.
Jo came stumbling in at stupid-o'clock on Christmas morning. She was fairly sure her makeup was smeared across her face in an ugly mess and in a chivalrous moment she'd ended up swapping shoes with some broad who'd been struggling in her heels. So of course her feet were in an absolute state. She'd contemplated staying over at Dean's motel room, but the sober part of her had figured that that probably wouldn't go down well with the ol' ball and chain.
So here she was, countless whiskies later, wobbling into their apartment. She fell over the front door, sprawling across the floor in a fit of giggles. They quickly transformed into tears when she failed to move. God she loved Pamela. So goddamn much. And she couldn't go to bed without telling her so.
With her alcohol addled brain Jo quickly realised that her best bet was to go and tell Pamela that just now. She couldn't wait until morning. It could be too late then. She had to tell her now. So Jo made the very sensible decision to crash into the bedroom door, and start a very loud rendition of 'She Brings Me Love' by Bad Company. Nothing else could provide truer evidence of her love for her better half. Even at the best of times Jo's singing voice wasn't the most tuneful, but the extra alcoholic lubrication only seemed to make it worse. She ignored the livid expression on Pamela's face as the elder woman moved towards her. She just smiled and sang louder and louder. At least until she found some form of bed cover and a pillow forced into her arms as she was shoved backwards out of the bedroom door.
Her singing was only really halted as Pamela's haunting voice chased her out into the living room. "Don't even think about coming back in here tonight."
Oh god, it was over. Pamela didn't love her any more, probably never had. It was all Jo's own fault. She was just an egotistical little shit who couldn't back down from a fight, and look where it got her. No wonder Pamela had thrown her out of the bedroom.
The spare bedding was soon thrown to the side, Jo didn't even deserve them. She deserved to be cold and lonely and sad on the hard ground. Surprisingly, it didn't take her long to cry herself to sleep.
And so that's how Jo found herself the next morning. Her face baring the evidence of smudged tears whilst her brain pounded with the remnants of last night's excesses. She hadn't even bothered with the cover, had slept the entire night on the floor.
As the memories washed over her she started to cringe. Oh god had that all really happened? A feeling of dread settled over her stomach as she remembered the look on Pamela's face the previous night. Shit.
She needed to do some damage control, and fast. Sending Dean a quick text blaming him for everything, she set to. Her face and hair were mostly fixed by an efficient shower, and once she'd dealt with her face it was time to clean up her relationship.
Jo was never very good with words, and she knew any attempt to talk to Pamela would only backfire. So considering it was Christmas morning, she did the only thing she could. She set all the presents up under the Christmas tree, piled up the beginnings of breakfast in bed onto a tray and started raiding the cupboards for cooking ingredients.
Half an hour later she had the perfect pastry rolled out for mince pies and had the dinkiest little trays. Pamela had to appreciate this. Jo didn't cook. Like, ever. She had about fifteen minutes before they cooked so she settled onto the sofa. And of course, because it was Jo, and it was just her luck, she fell asleep.
The screech of the alarm was enough to remind her why she didn't cook. She was still scrabbling around trying to find the oven mitts when a soft set of hands rested on hers moving her out of the way. She watched as Pamela reached in, retrieving the blackened pies. She stood back up, eyes catching hold of Jo's as all their unspoken words flowed between them.
The decimated pies were soon forgotten on the side as Jo clutched tight to Pamela. "I love you. Please. I'm sorry. Don't leave me, I'm nothing without you."
The elder woman leaned in, brushing a hand against the roots of Jo's hair. "Oh Jo, I could never leave you. To be honest, hearing you cry last night, I was about one minute away from storming in there and pulling you back into my bed."
"So we can have Christmas, just us."
"Just us." Pamela agreed, chasing away the tears that both of them would deny had ever existed in the first place.