Aching, hunger, and confusion. That was all that Jo could feel at the present. Every bone in her body was crying out either in pain or frustration every time she blinked or moved. Her doctor had told her that she had been out for over a week and her belly was filled with need for some sort of sustenance that she deemed fulfilling. Jo was confused more than the anything. The nurses had told her she had a fifteen percent chance of waking from her coma and told her someone must have been praying for her, lots of support from the "big man" upstairs. She knew Dean wasn't the praying type, especially after everything that had happened with Sam and even before that with his Dad, but never thought that he would pray for her. And the knowledge that God was AWOL right now just made everything that much more odd.
Hell, she though. Maybe it's just my luck that I get yanked back up out of something like this.
Luck. Not fate.
She sat quietly in the hospital bed and waited for Dean to get back from the cafeteria downstairs. He had been dead set on getting her something that was "doctor-worthy" instead of the crap they had served for lunch. Her nurse, Miranda, had told her Dean had sat with her every day, even when his RN filled him full of Morphine the day after the accident and passed out in the chair beside of her bed. The thought of Dean – fucking – Winchester passed out cold in the tiny chair in the corner beside her bed made Jo want to laugh so hard. And hell, she would have too, if she didn't hurt so fucking much.
"Damn place wouldn't know a decent pie if a bird shit it on 'em," an annoyed voice echoed through the room before a latch clicked. "…Damn it."
She smiles in place of a laugh, knowing that Dean would know why she didn't. It wasn't like after a week of not speaking and a shit load of bruises all over her ribcage made her want to laugh her damned ass off for an hour, nevertheless chuckle.
Clearing her throat, she utters raspily, "That bad, huh?"
Dean's head shook sternly, airy laughter swallowing up the air in front of them as he placed the plastic container and plastic ware on Jo's table. "Worse. But you'll live." He taps the top of the container before scooting it forward. "Now eat up."
Jo gave him a look. She was getting slightly annoyed with all of Dean's antics, not that they weren't sweet and all, but lately he was getting plain annoying. Very un-Dean like. But she was just going to pass it off as a weird sense of happiness for now. Jo sits up further and reaches for the fork.
Dean watches her, helps her, and eventually they lay there and flip on some unpractical show about a book and fairytales coming to live. A nurse came in and told both of them that if all went well, she would be discharged tomorrow and could go "home." That made Jo chuckle. However, for now, TV and pie? Seemed like heaven.