Summer of Sam

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[ 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.

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But he's still looking at the laptop. Staring at the screen. Shoulders tense because he's realized, in this moment, after everything, there's one more thing he can say about John Jo does not already know.

One more thing to ruin her view of the uncle she thought she knew.

[tobeclosetohim]

Except he had, hadn't he?

Jo let a breath out. Not a sigh.
Even though it had wanted to be one.

Her mother had warned her about all Winchesters.
Her mother who was somewhere trying deal with her choices.


Jo watched Sam, wondering if it was too much too soon for now.
And whether she really had the ability to not be pushing for now.

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She's here. She wouldn't leave. He couldn't let her. There's enough wrong with that to write a book or six.

And she needs to know everything. It's only fair after the years of secrets and orders he learned from.

"Before he died... my dad told Dean to watch me. That something might happen, tip the scales, I guess. And he'd have to kill me."




His frown is thoughtful, more than troubled. It's been long enough, enough shit between then and now, that it doesn't shock so sharply, hurt on an emotional level.

"I don't know what he knew, but there was something. Even then, before we met you. Nearly five years since I'd seen him."

[tobeclosetohim]

Jo sat there very still for very long seconds.



Then she leaned over, nudged him, but didn't sway back to her spot.
Listed. Leaned. Her lips pressed together, still looking forward.
Before her temple ended up against his upper arm. Resting there.


"We'll figure whatever's happening, then, Sam. Together."






Or she might have to take care of it.

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Oddly, his response? The twitch of his mouth into a smile.

No-- that was only the first part. With her being gentle, making the effort. Her hair soft on his arm and her words chosen carefully, beautifully kind.


There's a kiss given to the top of her head. Or really, less a kiss, more the pressure of his lips against her hair.

[tobeclosetohim]

But she's trying really hard not to think about that last thought.


So. Jo closed her eyes at the press against her hair.
And pushed it out. For now. Until. In case. Later.