Summer of Sam

[not-scully.livejournal.com]

[ 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.

Comments

[not-scully.livejournal.com]

"Well, that'll make a few things easier."

Not as many questions to answer. Or ignore.

He clicked through a few more examples of blocked graves. Spell, cement, physical barriers, electrical, cursed. Most of them describing the situation only, rather than explaining how it was solved.

Most likely because it wasn't.

[tobeclosetohim]

Jo leaned her head back and reaching up to rub her eyes. She glanced barely at the phone beside her before looking back at the ceiling. Only from her peripheral.

"Some."


There was only so much help before you hit how and why and what they were looking for.

[not-scully.livejournal.com]

"All right."

Sighed. Fingers resting on the keys.

"She'd have to know about the deal. That there was one. The terms shouldn't matter."

[tobeclosetohim]

Jo frowned.

Her page unturned. "No."



It's more disagreement than order.

[not-scully.livejournal.com]

Sam glances over, frown slight.

"To which part?"

[tobeclosetohim]

Jo glanced up at him.

"Would you want to help someone who got what they agreed to?"

Someones. Very specifically someone. Anyone. A Hunter. A normal.
Anyone who was not Dean. Who they were willing to give anything.

[not-scully.livejournal.com]

He hesitates but he doesn't shout at her. Doesn't even raise his voice.

If only because it's Jo saying the words.

"If she's gonna go looking into something like this, she'll need at least that much information."

[tobeclosetohim]

She watches the tension wondering if he even knows.
The way his shoulders turn rock hard. And his jaw tightens.

That cold, almost immediate need, to snap out at her for it.
Except in check. Except, what? She wonders. Because it's her?
Because she's allowed to walk on the broken glass and point it out now?



Because she's never tried to leave, or told him to stop.



Jo let the book rest back on her thighs again.

"That there was one. Not that it was for you."
And she tried not to twinge at her own tone.

[not-scully.livejournal.com]

For you.

If she thought his shoulders were tense before, she won't like how they look at her words.

But he nods. Jerky and sharp, but a nod.

"Just that there was one. The rest doesn't matter."

Even though, if they get even slightly close to a demon that feels chatty, all the details will be spilled in a moment.

[tobeclosetohim]

She can't touch him.
But she doesn't look away.

The rest all matters. All of it.
Each domino, each of them, each death.
The Winchester & Campbell Roulette Wheel.


"She won't like it," Jo frowned. "None of them would. Well. Depending on how far into the black she is on her house calls. Subtle for references doesn't exactly get you a catalog on what is done in the back room."

Beat. "But Jimmy wouldn't shut up about how she was a great psychic, too."

[not-scully.livejournal.com]

Sam considers this. And considers his words, too. The possibility that they'll get him punched.




"Well. We're talking about doing to her what you accuse me of doing. Walking into her life, dragging her into this.

"No one's going to like it."

[tobeclosetohim]

The back of his head gets a glare. He's lucky it's not a pillow.
"Pretty sure you'll still be able to leave her when we're done."


It's hard to decide if it's her or we which is more important.

[not-scully.livejournal.com]

It's hard to decide if she means that as an insult or not. Enough to turn his face toward her, not quite meeting her gaze, not quite frowning.

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.

[tobeclosetohim]

She's not pierced by Sam's stare.

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.

[not-scully.livejournal.com]

Yes. Exactly.

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."

[tobeclosetohim]

He isn't Dean. This is actually important.

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.

[not-scully.livejournal.com]

And that sincerity is not what he expected for such a small compliment.

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.

[tobeclosetohim]

Jo rolled her eyes, shaking her head.
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.

[not-scully.livejournal.com]

It's possible dark eyes found her leg.

It's possible fingers stilled on the keyboard.

But only possible.


Sam doesn't move. No rly.

"Aspirin?"

[tobeclosetohim]

"No." Is more annoyed that rejecting.







"I was thinking of just cutting it off and getting a new one."

[not-scully.livejournal.com]

You know what is not possible?

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?"

[tobeclosetohim]

Jo? Totally not considering kicking that shoulder.

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?"

[not-scully.livejournal.com]

"Hmm."

Still looking at the laptop, lips still pressed carefully together.

"I'd have picked salt shells."

[tobeclosetohim]

Jo was watching the faint trembles of those shoulders.

"Yes. You would."

[not-scully.livejournal.com]

Slow, careful nodding.

"Yup."

So much more effective than holy water, really.

"Maybe I'll get one, too."