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playinginsand2011-09-30 11:40 pm
not-scully.livejournal.com) wrote in playinginsand2011-09-30 11:40 pm
Summer of Sam
[ Summer of Sam: Ending B ]
Twenty minutes later, when he's washed his hands and put the kit away, Sam is standing in the bathroom again. Confident this time to complete his shave, since he'd threatened to tie Jo to the hotel bed and/or make her use the crutches in the car for the rest of the day - possibly tomorrow - maybe the next day if she didn't stay the hell on the bed at least until he'd finished putting their things to rights.
She's yelling at him, but only over the sound of the television and the water running over his razor. Got the books out, the notebooks, suggesting places to go, people to see. Things to check into. And maybe it's the afterglow talking, but it's the first time he's felt at all ready to address any of it.
"We're not going anywhere near Nebraska until it's been a week since I lied to your mom."
Well, there are still some things going unaddressed.
Twenty minutes later, when he's washed his hands and put the kit away, Sam is standing in the bathroom again. Confident this time to complete his shave, since he'd threatened to tie Jo to the hotel bed and/or make her use the crutches in the car for the rest of the day - possibly tomorrow - maybe the next day if she didn't stay the hell on the bed at least until he'd finished putting their things to rights.
She's yelling at him, but only over the sound of the television and the water running over his razor. Got the books out, the notebooks, suggesting places to go, people to see. Things to check into. And maybe it's the afterglow talking, but it's the first time he's felt at all ready to address any of it.
"We're not going anywhere near Nebraska until it's been a week since I lied to your mom."
Well, there are still some things going unaddressed.
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Wondering if she's taunting him for coming back.
"I'm talking about what it'd do to her to walk into all this."
Nothing about leaving.
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She's not thinking about the coming back.
She's not thinking about the walking into this.
"For an afternoon. We aren't adopting her."
She's had far than enough with Ruby.
"We're-" Exploiting the means they had.
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He lifts his eyes if only for what wasn't said.
Willing to do it, but understanding exactly what they are doing.
"It's a good plan."
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In the way she looks up, to make sure he's not teasing her.
Or goading her. Feeding her a load of crap. Humoring her.
For any of the reasons. For all of the reasons.
But he isn't. Dean. Or her Mom. He's just Sam. Sam and his laptop.
Who says the things he means. Or shows the ones he can't say.
Jo's mouth curved. Not a smile. But a curve. "Thanks."
Quite pleasure and pride. Even if it was simple.
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But-- no. It wasn't, was it? For either of them, ever. A compliment truly meant and felt.
Sam looks up when she does, none of the reasons she fears in his eyes. And he doesn't smile, even if his lips curve just slightly, something that's sympathy and empathy and more understand than either of them would like.
He nudges her shoulder gently.
And keeps it there.
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She was not smiling or nudging him back.
It probably helped that her expression didn't change.
She settled back on her pillow. Shifting, to stretch her leg.
Her face wrinkled. But only. Before she set her knees back up.
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It's possible fingers stilled on the keyboard.
But only possible.
Sam doesn't move. No rly.
"Aspirin?"
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"I was thinking of just cutting it off and getting a new one."
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Sam's smirk. The sharp press of his lips together to hide a smile. A grin. There might even be a tremble to his shoulders that is totally not suppressed laughter.
"You want to be a womandroid?"
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No. Really. It might have to do with double surgery.
Apparently she's not wholly unassailable by pain or logic.
Jo glanced toward him. "Maybe. Could it shoot holy water?"
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Still looking at the laptop, lips still pressed carefully together.
"I'd have picked salt shells."
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"Yes. You would."
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"Yup."
So much more effective than holy water, really.
"Maybe I'll get one, too."
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Jo's was thinking iron. Earlier.
But not saying the word.
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Without missing a beat.
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"Because?"
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Who wants to be pulled down by iron when they're just trying to walk? Come on, Jo.
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Jo's still with iron.
But only because she's still picturing pulling it off and beating specific things to death with it, too.
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Not privy to her internal thoughts, he's unwise enough to ask, "Why? What would you make it out of?"
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She'd had not mentioned it on purpose.
Which meant she chose to say it, blankly.
Focusing on trying not to make it big.
"Iron, maybe."
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Not making it big.
Not big.
Carefully casual.
"So next time you're mad at me, you're going to leave a leg across the door to keep me out?"
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That he makes it a joke.
Jo had a twisted laugh-couch moment.
Looking up from her book to him.
"Oh, that's a great idea."
They totally had iron.
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Lips curved in the slightest of smiles, surprisingly little of it forced.
"I really don't deserve you," he points out - and grins. "And that's not a compliment to you."
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That newly decided lack of tension in him.
The smallest, tiny crease of his dimple dipping in.
"Oh, I know." Jo said, far too smugly for any good. "I'm totally tallying how much I'd need to supplement our supplies to block a door and a window, now."
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For another handful of seconds, before her words sunk in and his mind had a moment to work through it.
And the smile faltered.
"...you know," was thoughtful, and slightly apologetic for changing the mood. "We should test salt, too."
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