A/N: Thank you for the feedback. D Keep the reviews coming? It definitely helps me write.
oooooooooo
When the Impala pulled up outside the bar, Jo studied it with careful scrutiny as if trying to decide whether or not it was a suitable place to eat. After a brief's moment hesitation she seemed to approve and shifted across the seat to push open the door.
"Meet your standards, princess?" Dean remarked callously with a blithe smirk, having noticed her observation.
Jo wrinkled her nose, deciding to humour him. In a battle of wit against Dean it was difficult to ever come up trumps.
"Only just."
Dean shrugged in a silent touché gesture and began to walk slowly toward the oak doors with a nonchalant Sam at his heels.
Jo followed suit, gazing curiously at the distinct sky-blue lights filtering through the window in the top of the door. It was a place called 'Sky Steakhouse' so she surmised that the lights were a good choice of decoration.
Upon walking in the first thing she noticed was the affronting scent of smoke and booze. She'd seen and smelt it all before at the roadhouse, of course, and she enjoyed the nostalgic feel.
It was the typical sort of inner-city tavern, with upbeat dance music and laughing, rowdy males, frivolous games of poker pool, and pretty girls waitressing with short skirts and tops that showed a dangerous amount of cleavage.
A few men blatantly eyed Jo over as she walked past but upon sighting the two rather intimidating men by her side they were content to look and not touch.
Dean seemed much more interested in the poker game currently in progress on the other end of the room, expression vaguely reminiscent of a hungry dog eyeing a bone.
"Might be able to earn a little in the way of pocket change while we're here," he mused, green eyes briefly flicking onto his younger brother, who looked affronted.
"I wonder if there has ever been a period of time in your life when you have not thought about food, girls, hustling or hunting. At all. Even in the very furthest reaches of your mind," commented Sam in a berating manner, eyes narrowed.
"Well, when you dragged me onto that plane a great deal of my brain power went into figuring out how many times I thought I would be able to kick you in the balls in the space of about ten seconds," replied Dean contemplatively. "Other than that, you'd be hard pushed."
"Table," piped up Jo, effectively ending what would have been a nasty argument.
All three of them quickly moved to the vacated table and took a seat.
Jo hauled herself up onto the bar stool, toes only just touching the floor. She contented herself to lay the balls of her feet on the metal of the stool legs.
A pretty young waitress made their way over to the table, hips swaying and long legs hardly covered by the pitiful handkerchief she was wearing as a skirt. She may as well be donned in a shoelace for all the good it was doing her. Dean seemed to like it, though.
"What can I get you boys?" she asked with a charming smile, ignoring Jo completely.
"What can I have?" retorted Dean with a charismatic simper. He was completely in his element here and it was only through rigid self-control that Jo stopped herself from kicking him in the giggle berries under the table.
The waitress smiled coyly but Sam intercepted with a stony-faced, businesslike "Beer, please."
"Make it two," added Dean, inclining his head.
"Three," put in Jo once again. The waitress gave her a quizzical look as if seeing her for the first time, scribbled a brief note on her notepad, and made her way back to the kitchen with a toss of her head.
Dean whistled appreciatively and raised both eyebrows at her retreating back.
Sam and Jo shared a glance of mutual frustration on the spur of the moment and Jo cracked into a knowing grin. How Sam ever managed to live with him night and day, she could never comprehend. She found her resentment towards Sam slowly starting to whittle away.
The waitress was back not long after with three beers in hand, and with a white smile and a winsome wink she was on her way again. With alcohol in hand, Jo suddenly forgot about that driving hunger that had been so important not long before she'd arrived. The boys seemed to feel the same way.
"Did you end up getting the demon? The Duluth demon?" asked Jo, taking a sip of the beer. The alcohol warmed her throat.
"Meg?" said Dean with a shrug. Sam averted his eyes.
"Well, we got her out of Sam, at very least. She's still out and about. Lurking. Somewhere."
"She didn't seem to like you much," she noted with a buoyant look of curiosity, meeting Dean's eyes and not looking away.
Dean met her eyes with a typical vivaciousness.
"Oh, she hated me. We killed her brothers and sisters. She was one of the Yellow-Eyed Demon's children, the son of a bitch."
Jo raised her brows. She didn't know that demons could have children. The prospect of demon families made her want to hurl, but she knew that Dean sort of meant it more in the figurative sense. Yellow-Eyes was the 'father of all demons,' she supposed.
"You mean Yellow-Eyes is Lucifer?" she asked, tilting her head.
"Was," Dean corrected with the brief fiery sparks of vehement victory.
That statement jarred Jo to the core. She knew that the Winchesters had devoted their lives to hunting that particular demon and the possibility that they had finally beaten it was a bit overwhelming.
"You killed the demon?" she hissed, eyebrows rising as far as they would go.
Dean nodded without a word but she noted the expression of tired resolve in his eyes.
"Wait," snapped Jo, closing her eyes momentarily and putting her fingers to her temples to get it through her head. It was difficult to comprehend.
"Does this have anything to do with that random outpouring of demonic crap across the country? The murders? Disappearances? Cyclones? Fires? Storms?"
Sam suddenly broke out of his reverie and looked up at her with a hard look in his eyes.
"Shush," he demanded with a curt shake of his head.
Jo opened her mouth slightly but Sam cut across again with a sharp look.
"Not now, Jo," he ordered firmly. "Later."
Jo was a little taken aback. Not that Sam hadn't ever made orders before, but that arid tiredness in his voice, the hardness of his tone, was something she never remembered in him. It wasn't exactly anger- it looked as if the conversation had brought up an issue he had been looking to forget. Sam took a distracted swig of his beer, further instilling that thought. There was definitely something about this whole event that both Sam and Dean weren't willing to elaborate on.
There was an awkward pause and Dean cleared his throat.
"Poker. I'm off to play poker," he informed them stiffly, rising from his seat.
Without thinking, Jo followed suit. "Me too," she replied without any room for negotiation.
Dean immediately opened his mouth as if to argue, but seemed to think better of it and shrugged, giving Sam a questioning look.
Sam shrugged. "I'm going to have food, maybe play some pool. Take care. Don't push anybody's buttons, Dean."
"I won't," he replied almost habitually but the mischievous look on his face seemed to say otherwise.
Jo followed Dean away to the large rectangular table where a large group of smelly men lounged around with cards in hand, engrossed in a game of Texas Hold 'Em.
Jo hung back for a minute while Dean entered the fray and with a few blokey, brotherly smiles and questions he was accepted into the game with a mutual grunt of assent from the other players.
Jo waited until another hand had passed until she approached, so not to be affiliated with Dean. It was much easier if they thought that she was alone.
"Hey, fellas," hailed Jo with a sugary smile, flashing her teeth.
"Mind if I join you?"
Jo's welcome was much, much warmer than Dean's.
"Sure, sweetheart."
"Take a seat, sugar."
She smiled and giggled her thanks, throwing in a fifty dollar note and swiftly being dealt her chips.
Jo batted her eyelids, feigning stupidity, and pointed at the chips.
"I'm sorry, haven't played in a while," she apologised with a blithe little chuckle of embarrassment.
"Never mind, darling," a loud and rambunctious man from across the table replied, leaning over to point at the chips.
"White are worth a dollar. Red are worth five. Blue are ten. Green are twenty-five and black are fifty."
"Thanks," replied Jo, reaching consciously for her hair to twirl it around a finger. Damn it, she felt like kicking herself. Come to think of it, Dean looked like kicking her, too. He was staring at her incredulously. She smiled tartly back at him.
As the game progressed she won and lost some, keeping her chips down to same amount she'd first been dealt with, establishing herself as a rather sub-standard player. The men around the table continually attempted to hit on her and she accepted those creepy compliments with lurid little giggles until her face hurt.
Eventually she was dealt a somewhat decent hand, a king and an ace, and called her way into the flop.
Two aces and a nine. Three of a kind. Immediately her poker face came into play and she gazed down at her cards in the same bewildered sort of way she had been all night.
The men started to squabble and laugh, calling and raising continuously. Jo called every time, chewing on her lip contemplatively as she did so.
The turn came with a nine of hearts but she didn't feint, continuing her charade well into the round.
The river came with a king and Jo exulted inwardly. A full house. She was pretty damn sure she had the game in the bag now, and waited until the boys had raised and called sufficiently before she decided to turn up the rate of knots.
Her bewildered expression turned to one of callous, smug satisfaction and she pushed in a green chip, raising a brow in challenge.
"Raise."
Immediately there came a cascade of folding from all around the table until finally there was only Dean left, hovering indecisively. Jo decided now would be a good time to sledge.
"I hope you're feeling lucky, handsome," she told him with a wistful giggle, taking a sip of her beer. Dean cocked an eyebrow in response.
"Lucky and then some, sweetheart," he drawled without missing a beat. "I hope you're feeling selfless. Raise." Dean pushed another green chip into the center of the table.
Jo shook her head and clicked her tongue.
"Not a chance in hell, baby. Call. That's me all in." Jo pushed her remaining chips into the middle of the table.
Dean chuckled and shrugged, scratching the back of his head.
"Don't say I didn't warn you. Go ahead, lay them out."
Jo shrugged and laid her cards down. A few men whistled, impressed, from around the table and Dean's face steeled.
"Good hand," he said after a moment, looking meek. Jo smirked viciously.
Dean shook his head. "Dealer was kind this round." With that, he pressed down his cards to the table.
Two nines. Four of a kind. Shit.
The rowdy men yelled appreciatively and smacked Dean on the back, murmuring their praise. Dean chuckled his thanks and met Jo's gaze over the table, more arrogant than ever.
If looks could kill, Dean would be a little pile of soot on his chair right now.
Jo shrugged and smacked another fifty on the table to buy herself back in, determined. The men pushed a bundle of chips towards her.
"You won't be so lucky next time, honey," warned Jo scathingly as the dealer dealt her cards, interjecting as much venom as she possibly could into that one word.
Dean barked a laugh at her and put his chin in hand.
"Bring it on, blondie. As you put it- not a chance in hell."
"Willing to make a bet on that?" snapped Jo before she could help herself, allowing a fleeting glance at her cards.
"Sure." Dean smirked, eyes trailing up from his cards and onto hers.
"What are we talking?"
Jo shrugged. "Let me think on it."
She surveyed the flop. Nine of hearts, ten of spades, queen of diamonds.
"Hundred bucks," she said finally, raising his head to Dean's. He snorted.
"Come on, baby, that's not a poker bet," he pushed, eyes flicking down to his cards again and then back to hers with renewed confidence.
One of the men on the left of the table yelled "she takes her top off!"
The man to her left raised a glass.
"Hell yes! I'll drink to that, and raise twenty."
There was a roar of 'here, here!' around the table and each man exuberantly called him until it came back around to Dean.
There was a moment where Jo met his eyes over the table and there was an electric pause, a silent contact amidst the noise and alcohol. Something stirred in Jo's stomach and she swallowed, shivering.
Dean smirked, eyes never leaving hers, and slid forward a chip.
"I like the sound of that deal," he purred. There was a glint in his eye that made her nervous.
Now it was Jo's turn. She was in something of a dilemma. If she folded she was liable to Dean's taunting for the rest of her living life. If she went on and was forced to take off her top, well…
She didn't even want to go there. Was she really that confident?
Maybe she'd had too much alcohol. She closed her eyes and shook her head, resigned.
"God. You'll need to really convince me for that one. Raise."
She shoved in a few chips and all the men blithely called in response.
"Fine," spat Jo finally, gazing in an intimidated way at the substantial pot of money.
"Fine. But if you lose," she leant forward and pointed directly at a certain tall brunette playing pool on the other end of the room.
"You have to go and make out with that guy over there."
Dean paled, despite himself. Jo watched him hesitate.
"He'd punch me in the face," he replied meekly, imploringly. Jo spread her arms, devilish. She enjoyed watching his discomfort.
Then he snapped, that confident mask was back in place and his jaw set.
"I hope you're warm, sweetie," chuckled Dean with a dirty smile.
How this little hustling conspiracy had turned into strip poker she didn't quite know, but she swallowed as the turn came. King of hearts.
She wasn't even paying attention to the cards. All that mattered was making Dean as uncomfortable as possible. Eventually she found herself to be all-in and watched with the beginnings of foreboding as the river came.
Three of hearts.
Her heart constricted. She didn't have anything. Not one thing- not even a pair.
Dean wasted no time. He smacked down his two cards, a jack and an ace. Ten, jack, queen, king, ace. A straight. Jo's heart fluttered and Dean seemed to pick up on her panic. He gave her a 'you brought this on yourself' sort of look as she pressed down her cards, lost for words. A six and eight of hearts.
It was only once she'd done that when she realised that she did, in fact, have something. Five cards of the same suit. A flush of hearts.
The panic ebbed away to be replaced with inexplainable triumph and she clicked her teeth together in an ecstatic smile, watching Dean's face fall.
"Pucker up, princess," teased Jo haughtily, inclining her head towards Sam, innocently hustling his way around on the pool table. Dean swallowed, incensed, and groaned.
"I totally can't believe you are making me do this," he whined, simultaneously disappointed at not having been able to see Jo take off her shirt and the prospect of doing anything remotely intimate with his little brother.
Somehow, Jo knew he would never be able to do it, but watching him drag his humiliated little ass over towards the pool table to the raucous laughter of the men was something she doubted she'd ever forget.