Rating: T

Disclaimer: I still own nothing!

With thanks to Silverspoon, as always. And to you guys, for reading and reviewing! :)

Connecticut

It was a cold, dark and grey fall day, yet inside the run down motel room, the temperature had risen to almost unbearable heights. Brushing a bead of sweat from his upper lip, Dean blew out a slow, exasperated breath and shot a decidedly irritable glare over toward the broken heater on the wall.

Despite their best efforts to turn off, turn down, or incapacitate the appliance, a steady stream of hot air continued to assail the room. With the towns annual Oktoberfest in full swing and with no other rooms available, Dean and Jo had been forced to remain in their own mini tropical ecosystem with only a small rate reduction to appease them.

Spinning the barrel of the handgun he had been cleaning with a decisive flick of his wrist, Dean lowered the weapon to the table top and cast a lingering glance over his scantily clad girlfriend; dressed in only a thin tank top and pair of pale pink cotton shorts, Dean reasoned that this was perhaps the only perk of their current accommodation.

Brushing the back of her hand over her forehead, Jo Harvelle continued on in her task, pretending to be blissfully unaware of her boyfriend's wandering eyes as she filled the remaining shell cases on the table with rock salt.

Dean smiled absently to himself, trailing his gaze up her toned thighs and over the thin, tight material of her vest that appeared to be openly tormenting him as it clung to her chest. Similarly dressed in only his boxers and a t-shirt, Dean felt a familiar stirring in his groin that was unfortunately not hampered by the usual constraints of denim.

Watching her lick her lips as she tilted her head in concentration, Dean released a quiet groan and tried to dispel the images from his mind that were currently leading him in a decidedly x-rated direction. He considered climbing to his feet and dramatically sweeping items from the table, hoisting Jo up onto it to take her there and then. However, whilst he knew Jo would not be wholly unreceptive to the idea, she might not take too kindly to having the fifty or so rounds of ammo she had just spent the past two hours filling being scattered across the ground. Consequently, he dismissed the idea, and rubbed his hand vigorously over his face to try to regain his wavering focus.

Jo glanced up from her task and smiled, having felt his eyes burning into her for the past few minutes. An equally affectionate smile tugged at Dean's lips, and his thoughts suddenly travelled a more sentimental path.

Despite her admirable capabilities as a hunter and her no nonsense, take-no-prisoners attitude, there was a softness and femininity in the young blonde that Dean adored. The dichotomy of such beauty and fragility in an arguably kick-ass hunter was something he found endlessly intriguing, and there had been only one other woman he could remember who had possessed such a strange mix of qualities.

Mary Winchester had been the first and perhaps most important female figure in Dean's life; a mother who had loved and nurtured him for such a short time, and had been so cruelly snatched from he and Sam's childhood at an age where only vague memories of her now remained.

Of course he had met her in his visits to the past, and had been instantly shocked by the young, confident, highly skilled hunter he had encountered. He had remembered her only as his mother - patient, gentle and nurturing, and happily removed from the hunting life she had tried desperately to leave behind.

Jo was everything young Mary had once been, and she understood him in ways no other woman had ever come close to. Whilst they were sometimes too alike to avoid confrontation, their opposite tendencies complemented each other, and Dean thought that Jo could be nothing other than his soul mate - should he ever be inclined to believe in such things. The very fact that he entertained these uncharacteristically sentimental and nausea inducing thoughts led him to believe that in every way imaginable, Jo was different to all the other women he had met.

He only hoped Sam somehow knew how grateful Dean was that he had forced him to face his feelings and go to her. Of the many regrets Dean carried with him, the fact Sam would never know of his happiness or get to share in his future would always remain heavy on his heart.
Yet day by day, he was slowly healing, and hope had begun to resurface once again. Because Jo made him think about things he had long ago dismissed as impossible.

He chuckled to himself as his rumbling stomach rudely interrupted his romantic reverie, and the sound of Jo's accompanying laughter once again drew his eyes to hers.
"Pizza should be here soon," she soothed with an ill-concealed grin, realising they had only a few hours before they had to leave, and Dean always liked to hunt on a full stomach.
Nodding in agreement, Dean rose to his feet and paused behind her chair.

"I'm gonna take a shower," he stated, placing his hand on her shoulder and bending his head to brush a kiss against the crown of her head.
"Okay," Jo replied, setting aside the final shell casing and leaning back as she lifted her hand to his cheek and sought out his lips. Returning her kiss, Dean squeezed her shoulder affectionately before he padded across the room toward the bathroom, casually calling out over his shoulder, "wallet's on the night stand."

Shooting a glance over toward the bed, Jo located Dean's wallet and replied briefly in affirmation, before beginning to load the two shotguns he had just cleaned.
Jo smiled to herself as she heard the sound of the shower running, and for a moment contemplated joining him. The weight of his hungry gaze upon her had left her with an insistent tug of desire in the pit of her stomach. Yet she acknowledged that since their take-out would be promptly arriving, those activities would have to be postponed for the post- hunt adrenalin rush they would undoubtedly be left with.

Almost on cue there was a short, sharp knock on the door, and Jo gently lay the shotgun down on the table top and headed over toward the night stand. Quickly retrieving a twenty dollar bill, she tossed the worn leather wallet onto the bed and hurried to the door.

The acne littered faced of the teenage boy suddenly broke out into a grin as he surveyed the attire of his customer. Ignoring his lascivious stares, Jo grabbed the pizza box and thrust the money at him, carefully balancing the two soda cans and greasy paper bag atop the box as she kicked the door closed with her foot.
"Keep the change," she called, turning from the door the second it slammed shut before setting the food down onto the table.

Frowning as she heard the water still running, Jo shouted above the sound of the shower, "Dean?"

Shrugging as she received no response, Jo called out to him again, casting her gaze absently around the garishly decorated motel room as she awaited his reply. A small piece of paper caught her eye, and she wandered over toward the bed, bending to retrieve the article from the mustard coloured carpet. Turning the photograph over in her hand, she blinked in surprise at the image of the smiling woman that greeted her.

With confusion beginning to etch over her features, Jo stared down at the photograph of herself, both trying and failing to remember when such a picture had been taken. Laughing at some mystery person not evident within the image, Jo lay sprawled on Bobby's couch, her head propped in her hand as she leant her elbow on the upholstered arm. She looked relaxed and at ease, her eyes creased as a genuine smile illuminated her face.

Jo brushed her thumb over the slightly worn corner of the photograph, her gaze flicking between the picture and the wallet lying on top of the covers, and realisation suddenly dawned upon her.

"You say something, sweetheart?" Dean asked, rubbing a towel over his damp hair as he padded out of the bathroom with another dark blue towel slung around his hips. He quirked an eyebrow as he saw Jo visibly start at his appearance, and his eyes befell the item in her hands.

Turning to throw the towel onto the bathroom counter, Dean crossed the room and stood beside her, smiling almost instantly at the image contained in the photo.
"You have a picture of me in your wallet?" Jo asked breathlessly, obviously disbelieving Dean to be capable of such an acutely sentimental gesture.

Bobbing his head in affirmation, Dean slid his hand around her hips and pulled her closer, bestowing a tender kiss against her cheek.

"Yeah," he answered simply, chuckling as he added, "isn't that what guys do with their girlfriends?"
"Well, yeah. I... I guess so," Jo stammered, watching as he plucked the photograph from between her fingers and retrieved his wallet from the bed. Sliding the picture back into the pocket, Dean briefly swept his finger over the dog-eared corner, and smiled at the memories it evoked.

A couple of months before, Ellen had all but insisted that Bobby replace his "ancient relic of a camera" with a new fangled digital model, Dean had been left to figure out the workings of said camera after Bobby had threatened to throw it from a moving vehicle. Jo had remained unaware of his ninja like photography skills, and the resulting image he had captured had instantly made his breath catch in his throat. With the lives they led, and the stress and heartache of the past five months since Sam's disappearance, it was rare to see any of them overcome with a truly genuine smile- the unchecked happiness and vivacity he found within her smiling face had meant the photograph had quickly been tucked away in his wallet for safe keeping.

Whilst he and Jo hunted together most of the time, there had been occasions when one had remained at home, sometimes to accompany Bobby or Ellen on a hunt instead. As much as he was loathed to admit it to Bobby, and terrified to do so to Ellen, Dean missed Jo when she wasn't around. On those occasions he had found himself without her beside him, her picture had been a welcome reminder of what awaited him at home.

Subsequently, numerous bar tenders and several inappropriately flirtatious waitresses had found themselves suddenly presented with the photograph. Any traces of embarrassment the hunter might have felt being suitably masked by a couple of beers or shots of Jack Daniels.
Feeling a blush run up his sober and therefore slightly self-conscious cheeks, Dean closed the wallet and returned it to the night stand, before drawing the still evidently shocked blonde into his arms.

Reaching up to toy with a tendril of hair that had escaped it's confines, Dean twirled the curl around his finger and swept his green eyes over Jo's face.

"You've got a beautiful smile, you know that?" he said softly, cupping her chin in his hand as he brushed his thumb over her lips, "first thing I noticed about you..."

A chuckle reverberated from his chest as he arched an eyebrow and winced playfully, "Well, aside from the fact you've got a killer right hook."

Jo laughed, looping her arms around his neck at the memory of their first meeting at the roadhouse; a time that now seemed so very long ago.
"Hey, you asked for it," Jo defended, smiling as she recalled the impromptu break-in, "and I think I've more than made it up to you."

Dean grinned smugly, sliding his hands down her back and settling them provocatively on the curve of her rear.

"I noticed this too..." he teased, pulling her flush against him and feeling his heart rate suddenly climb at the resulting whimper his gesture elicited.

"Uh-huh," Jo replied disdainfully, rolling her eyes as she vividly recalled the less than subtle leering that had occurred, unashamedly directed at her ass.
Dean nodded, holding her gaze as the couple exchanged equally adoring smiles and each angled their head to allow their lips to meet. Jo sank into his arms, murmuring unintelligibly as his tongue met hers. His hand settled around the back of her neck, holding her to him possessively as she pressed against his chest and willingly surrendered to his kisses.
After breaking apart to gasp for breath, Jo wasted no time in reclaiming his lips, and Dean smiled against her mouth at her eagerness. Eventually drawing back, she felt him press a final kiss against her lips, and he brushed the tip of his nose against hers.

His skin was warm and damp to the touch, and the scent of his body combined with the fresh, clean smell of soap elicited a contented sigh from her. Pressing her cheek against his chest, Jo felt his fingers comb gently through her hair, and they remained in an embrace until the pressing urgency of their impending hunt forced them apart.

Dean glanced over toward the table and his eyes immediately lit up upon seeing the take-out boxes.

"Great! The pizza's here? I'm starving," he enthused, all but rubbing his hands together as he padded over toward the table and began rifling through the boxes.
Jo shook her head and grinned at the sudden change in mood, and just like that, the moment was gone.

Joining him by the table, she watched him take a large bite out of a slice of pizza, ropes of melted cheese drawing from his lips as he hastily chewed after the escaping mozzarella and then winced at the heat that met his tongue.
"The cheese is hot," he warned, frowning as he saw Jo simply laugh at his reaction and head off toward the bathroom.
"I'm gonna take a shower," she stated, feeling her skin slicked with perspiration as a result of the room's overzealous heating appliance, and their equally overzealous activities. Whilst she was certain she would more than break a sweat on their hunt that evening, she wanted to meet with the building owner looking as fresh and presentable as possible.

Swallowing his mouthful of food, Dean nodded, watching transfixed as she walked across the room and began tugging her vest up and over her head.
Quickly glancing between the pizza slice in his hand and the figure of his retreating girlfriend, (aided by the mental images of naked skin and hot, steamy showers), Dean made a hasty decision. Throwing the pizza back into the container, he closed the lid of the box and sucked the residual tomato sauce from his fingers.

Wearing an impossibly wide smile, he sauntered into the bathroom after her, and kicked the door closed with a resounding thud.

The old leather wallet remained on the night stand, containing one cherished image that over the years ahead would be joined by several more. Though it's owner could never envision such a time now, one day the joyful faces of nieces and nephews, as well as the infectious smiles of two beautiful, brown eyed little girls, would one day occupy their own special places in the wallet.

But for now, the present was all that occupied Dean Winchester's mind, and, for once, that alone was enough.