Metropolis, Jo's Apartment

[tobeclosetohim]

She's standing at the sink, drinking a cup a coffee.

It's even a warm cup of coffee.




It's not much, but it is something.

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[theresnodoor]

Rachel is starting to feel like her presence is bothering Jo more than helping.

But if she wants even just a little bit of peace, she's going to have to bother her again.

Thus, a knock on the door.

[tobeclosetohim]

The door gets a look. If she's annoyed, it's more at the fact she can't see through it. The house hasn't changed any. The alcohol and weapons are in piles in this room. But she's actually in it of her free will.


Just not near any of it.


Almost like a test.






Eventually the door gets opened.

[theresnodoor]

"Hey."

If Rachel's trying to look at all comfortable with this, Jo would have to be blind, deaf, and comatose to believe it.

"Have you got a minute?"

[tobeclosetohim]

Jo looked at her, not so much pausing at greeting as just letting it come and go without a response. There's a faint shrug at the second part, but she opens the door about a foot more to make what would be a pathway in.

[theresnodoor]

Rachel nods and steps inside. Tries not to show how the interior of Jo's place still unnerves her, and has ever since she got back. There's just something... odd about it. Cold. And as empty as it was before, it was never quite like this.

"So..." She shoves her hands in her pockets, shrugging a little as she turns, eyes drifting over the piles of alcohol and supplies. "Tobias and I have a job."

[tobeclosetohim]

The skin between Jo's brows puckered.

That really didn't sound like it was something she need to know.

[theresnodoor]

It's really not something Rachel wants to tell her. Especially not when getting that expression in response.

"It's in Detroit," would be a mumble in anyone but Rachel. For being annoyed as well as a little embarrassed, it's more like a grumble.

[tobeclosetohim]

The door finally gets closed, and her hand on the door goes back to helping her other hand hold the coffee she hasn't taken a drink from either.



There has to be more than that.



"And?"

It's very small and hollow.

[theresnodoor]

"And..."

There is something petulant, like a child being forced to apologize, about the look on Rachel's face as she avoids Jo's gaze and gets through with the rest of it.

"We're not sure exactly what's there. So if we're not back in a few days, that's probably where the next end-of-the-world is coming from."

[tobeclosetohim]

Jo lips frowned as close to a frown as it could. Which was to only quirk at one edge, pressed faintly together and pulled inward. It looked more uncertain than displeased.

[theresnodoor]

Rachel's eyes narrow at the expression, if only because she doesn't quite know what it means.

"...okay." Hands still in pockets, she walks straight for the front door again.

[tobeclosetohim]

Jo doesn't stop her.

At least that isn't the plan.








"Don't die in Detroit"

It's probably the stupidest thing she's said in a while. And the least in character.

[theresnodoor]

It might have been the only thing to get Rachel to stop, too.

Not to mention smile, just a little.

Smirk, really.

"Gotcha. I'll wait until I get back."

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

Dean hasn't wandered this way in a while.

Not that he hasn't wanted to, mind. Wanted to a lot. Something (something with multicoloured hair and twin babies and hips with just the right amount of curve to them) has kept him from feeling entirely comfortable visiting Jo.

But today? He's relaxed and cocky and as bright as anything, and he's totally showered since leaving the farm, and he hasn't seen his favourite blonde knife-sharp hunter for a while.

His knock on the door just reeks of Dean.

[tobeclosetohim]

It does.

It really, really, does.





And this is why Jo's standing about fifteen feet from it. Staring.

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

"Hey, anyone home?"

Patience is not one of his virtues.

"Aw, man, you would be out when I swing by. Damn it."



If it was anyone else's house, he'd just break in and help himself to a beer. Somehow, that doesn't seem appropriate with Jo.

[tobeclosetohim]

The door opens about a minute later. He might even be half down the walk away at this point. But still the door opens, on one fairly normally dressed, faintly disheveled in loose curly hair, Jo staring at him through the only about foot it opens.

Her expression is far too calm and clear, and yet not for the focus of wanting to be sure, one hand behind her back and the other, with a hand, fingers pressed precariously at the knob of the door.

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

Dean stops, halfway down the path, and swings slowly around, hands still in his jacket pockets, head tilted back in curiousity.

"...Jo?"

It is Jo, right? She's not - moving right.

[tobeclosetohim]

So she was right.

She's not quite sure if she should know what to do with that. Her finger almost shifted against the door knob, but they don't move enough. She already opened it. Her lips pressed together and she just stood there.




She was right about not getting him before. Too.

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

"Jo."

He's worried now, all that relaxation sliding away, replaced with a tension that sits much more comfortably on Winchester broad shoulders. The footpath only takes four quick steps to cover and then he's hesitating on the edge of the porch, reaching slowly for the door.

"What is it?"

[tobeclosetohim]

He looks exactly the same.

It's a wonder that's the thought that collides with sunshine through a gaping bloody hole and auburn strands of hair. And this time her fingers do move, at the thought and the fact he's suddenly coming rapidly toward her. Even if only to stop.





"You've been gone."

Because that clears up so much.

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

Dean leans over to take the door from her hand carefully, swinging it open, ready to catch her if she falls. Jo would never fall, but ... he has no idea what's going on here any more.

"Yeah. Sorry."

[tobeclosetohim]

If either word really sinks in is debatable.

Her gaze doesn't sharpen at the apology, even a bland and easily given one, nor do her shoulders shrug to blow it off. She's just staring at him, copper eyes following his movements, even when she doesn't move and he's only inches away taking the door from her.



There's something there though.

Just enough out of focus that it doesn't change her expression.

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

Dean reaches out slowly (never touch a hunter without warning them) to touch her cheek, gentle enough that it would be unusual if Jo wasn't Jo.

No, it's unusual anyway.

"Jo."

[tobeclosetohim]

Her eyes followed his hand, the rest of her still unmoving, until it brushed her skin. And then her hand was suddenly tight around his wrist, a lightening flash of reflex movement, and her eyes had to move to it, as though they hadn't quite been part of that choice.

Rachel and Jack had done without the touching.

This is....different.

And some part of her still fuzzy, repeats, it's Dean

Making her eyes moved back to his face suddenly, her hand still there but looser, strayly noticing the warmth of his skin, with a wrinkle to her face that might have looked apologetic if it were anytime but now.

It looked absently confused now.

She hadn't actually made him stop touching her though.