Author Topic: Moments of Worry  (Read 1415 times)

Jo Winchester

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Moments of Worry
« on: July 23, 2017, 07:01:45 PM »
[size=9]April, 2014[/size][/b]

The Winchesters were a fierce family. Nothing phased them; nothing frightened them; nothing stood between them and their goal. With a one year old son, and a twenty-two year old son, Jo and Dean had grown into truly terrifying parents of the protective type, only now beginning to learn how to tone it down in so-called normal company. Nothing could stop them from approaching any situation with utmost confidence. Well ... almost nothing.

For Jo, at least, the prospect of wearing a dress to her older son's wedding was proving difficult to wrap her head around. She'd tried on three dresses so far - at home, because not even she would drag Dean to a mall to do this - and not one of them had suited her.

"Okay ... when did my butt get too big for a dress?"

There was a time when Dean would have thought watching women trying on clothes was almost as good as watching porn, but that was before he'd gotten all married and all domesticated. Nowadays, he thought women trying on clothes was women's business, and he wasn't too sure why Jo wanted his opinion on dresses, instead of someone who knew better - like Ellen or Ayden or even Becky. Thankfully, she hadn't dragged him to the mall. At least, here at home, he could enjoy a decent cup of coffee while she played fashion show.

"Do you really want me to answer that?" he teased his wife, hiding a smirk behind his cup of coffee.

"Not if you want to have a daughter," she called back to him. There were a few moments of grunting discomfort, and finally she sighed in relief. "Ugh ... I think this one is actually worse. What possessed Ellen to think this was going to suit me?" She pulled open the door to step into view, bare toes brushing the carpet. The dress was ... red, tight, and not really suitable for a wedding.

He shrugged, unruffled by her remark. "We met her. It's already a done deal," he reasoned, though that wasn't quite true. Dean didn't want to wrap his head around what might happen if they didn't have a daughter, when she'd traveled back in time to help them once already. So, had she done that in the future or in the past? It was too complicated, and if he thought about it too hard, it made Dean's head hurt. Dean took one look at his wife in that dress and whistled in appreciation. As sexy as it was, it wasn't really appropriate for the mother of the groom. A night on the town maybe, but not a wedding. "I like that one, but not for the wedding."

Jo looked down at herself, laughing at his reaction to it. "Seriously? I get naked in front of you all the time, but it takes a dress to get a whistle?" she teased in amusement, twisting to look at the back in the mirror behind her. "God, my butt is huge in this thing." It really wasn't, but Jo had an odd blind spot when it came to her own figure.

"Baby, I could ping a peanut off your butt in that thing," he told her. As silly as it sounded, he meant it as a compliment. "Your butt is perfect. Better than J-Lo's, and way better than Kim K's," he added, admiring the view.

"You're lucky I love you," was her answer, not entirely sure that she wanted to be complimented on having a butt better than J-Lo's. J-Lo had the genetics going for her, after all; Jo was just a skinny white woman with less curves than muscle. "Okay, just two more. I promise, only two more." She wiggled her fingers at him, reaching back to undo the dress as she slipped out of sight once again.

"That was totally a ****-me dress," Dean murmured as he sipped his coffee and tried to shift into a more comfortable position now that she'd managed to turn him on without even trying. No daughter. Ha! Like that wasn't going to happen. Might even happen today, if the other dresses were anything like that one.

Sadly for him, they weren't. The next was a soft shade of green, loose and floaty, and would probably look better if Jo bothered to put the heels on with it. As it was, she looked like she'd escaped from a beach wedding and lost her shoes on the way. "What about this one?"

Dean made a face, which pretty much said how he felt about the second dress. "That makes you look like you're fourteen and going to your first high school dance," he said. "And the color is all wrong. Who picked these out?" It sure as hell wasn't Jo because none of the dresses so far seemed to fit her very well.

"Mom did," she laughed, rolling her eyes at his response once again. "Besides, aren't you the one who's always complaining that I have to have ID on me at all times because I get carded everywhere we go?"

"You don't look much like a mother of the groom in that dress," he remarked. Then again, they were both way too young to have a son who was old enough to get married. "Have they worked out yet how they're going to get a marriage license when Sam doesn't even have a valid birth certificate?"

"Apparently Ares is calling in a favor with Clotho so her Olympian contacts can insert Sam into our timeline without anyone being any the wiser," Jo shrugged. "So that's a no for this one, huh?" She laid her hands on her hips, her lips quirking with teasing good humor now she knew he thought it made her look adolescent.

"Baby, you're not innocent enough for that dress," he told her, with an almost lurid leer her way. "But if you wanna pretend, I can think of a few things I could do to corrupt you," he added with a waggle of his brows.

She snorted with laughter, bending to catch a pillow off the bed and throw it at him. "Eww! Not thinking about you doing stuff to a fourteen-year-old me!" Cackling with laughter, she slipped back into the bathroom to slide out of the apparently too young for her dress and try the last one. She wasn't holding out much hope for this one being any good, either. Ellen's taste wasn't very good when it came to her daughter, it seemed.

Dean batted the pillow away with a chuckle, what as left of his coffee sloshing in his cup. "Here's an idea!" he called from the bedroom. "Why not do your own shopping instead of leaving it to Ellen?" Who, he guessed, probably hadn't bought a dress for herself or anyone else since 1975.

"Because the thought of going to a mall and trying on dresses in those tiny cubicles next to dozens of little girls who look better in everything turns my stomach," Jo called back to him. "I might actually stab someone if I have to do it."

"We could make out," he suggested. "In the dressing room, I mean." Yes, a thirty-something year old man was suggesting making out with his wife in the dressing room of a department store when he could make out with her whenever he wanted to right in the privacy of their own bedroom.

The bathroom door opened, but only her head poked through, one brow raised above her smile. "Is that a request that we get a little more adventurous, baby?" she asked in an innocent tone.

"Jo, I could pick out a better dress than Ellen," he said, though that didn't really answer her question, and he hoped Ellen never overheard him saying that. Something long and black and slinky, maybe with a slit up the leg and a bare back. Yeah, he could just imagine her in something like that. But black for a wedding?

"She picked the dress I got married in, remember," she pointed out, pulling the door open all the way to step into view. The dress this time was long, and far more grown up than anything she was used to wearing. She bit her lip, feeling almost shy in anticipation of his reaction to this one. Did burgundy suit her?
[size=9:e7ee19851d][color=darkblue:e7ee19851d][i:e7ee19851d][b:e7ee19851d]Remember the quiet wonders. The world has more need of them than it has for warriors.[/b:e7ee19851d][/i:e7ee19851d][/color:e7ee19851d][/size:e7ee19851d]

Jo Winchester

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Re: Moments of Worry
« Reply #1 on: July 23, 2017, 07:03:11 PM »
Both brows arched upwards as she stepped out of the bathroom, all dressed in burgundy and looking feminine and sexy and classy all at the same time. "Now, that's a dress," he said with an appreciative smile, as he looked her up and down.

"This is the kind of thing a grown-ass woman wears," she pointed out, gesturing a little helplessly to her own chest, displayed tastefully with low cut lace. "I, uh ... I kinda like it, though. With, you know, heels." She rose onto her toes to give some impression of the height she was going to gain from shoes.

"I like it, too," he remarked, setting the cup on a nightstand and moving to his feet. It wasn't often he got to see Jo in a dress, and he wanted to enjoy every minute of it. "You look ..." He was temporarily at a loss for words, and that was a rarity for Dean Winchester. Awesome wasn't quite the word he was looking for. "Gorgeous," he continued, though other words came to mind, such as amazing and sexy.

Her expression softened. That wasn't a word that came naturally to her Dean's lips; she was more used to being called "awesome" and occasionally "hot", than "gorgeous". She bit her lip, raising her hands to twist her hair up off her neck. "Up or down?" she asked, trusting his opinion better than her own, even in this.

"Mmm, up, I think," he said after a moment's deliberation. It would be that much more fun to undress her and take her hair down later. He settled his hands against her hips, gaze traveling downwards to admire the view once again, especially that of her cleavage. "You should get dressed up more often."

Jo watched his eyes wander, letting her hair fall against her back once again to lay her hands on his arms. "You know, I could be wrong," she said in a wondering tone. "I could be hearing things, but I could have sworn you came about this close to asking me out, princess."

He lifted his gaze, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I didn't think I had to, but I'm willing if you are. Hell, I'll even wear a tie," he told her, which was a big concession for him to make. About the only time he put a tie on was when he was impersonating an FBI agent.

"Mmm, you temptress," she teased fondly, rising onto her toes to brush a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I guess I'm keeping both red dresses, then. And this one needs to be put away so we don't defile it in a moment of debauchery."

"Um, you can keep the green one, too, if you want," Dean suggested, though he wasn't expecting her to go out in that dress so much as wear it to fulfill a fantasy or two of his. "Can we defile the other one instead?" he asked, with a playful grin.

"The green one, huh?" Her smile widened to a grin, knowing exactly where his mind was wandering on that count. It really was just as well Bertie was with his honorary grandparents for the day. "You want the killer heels, too, or just the dress?"

"The killer heels, definitely," he told her. Those were like icing on the cake. It was all about painting a picture, after all, and setting the scene, and the scene he had in mind was definitely not for children.

She laughed, pulling him down into a slow kiss. "Then I guess I'm squeezing my butt into that red dress again," she conceded with a grin, nipping his lower lip. It had been a long time since they'd been able to play like this. She'd never realized how much having a child would put a cramp in their sex life.

"Don't worry," he murmured against her lips. "It won't be on for long," he promised, returning that kiss with one of his own, soft, and slow, and lingering. He reached around her to look for a zipper, though this wasn't the dress he was fantasizing getting her out of.

Jo giggled into his kiss, reaching back to slap his hand gently. "Patience, grasshopper," she told him. "If you take this one off, you'll forget you wanted the other one on."

"Why can't I take them both off?" he asked, though he already knew the answer to that. If he took this one off, it wasn't very likely she'd end up putting the other one on.

"Because this one is for when you're all dressed up, too," she informed him impishly, rippling her fingers down his chest to gently pull away from the wrap of his arms. "It's for teasing you all day with the knowledge that you get to take it off at the end of that day. The other one? Let's see how far we get, shall we?" She winked at him, catching the skirt in one hand as she slipped away into the bathroom.

"Yes, dear," he replied obediently, as he let her slip away from him. If that was the dress she wanted to wear to Sam's wedding, then the least he could do was hold himself back until she changed into something they could play in. He had no doubt they'd get pretty far, but how quickly they got there was the real question.

Her laughter floated out to him from the bathroom at his obedient response, knowing perfectly well that if she took too long in there, he would likely come in to get her. Thankfully, it was less effort to get the tight red number on second time around, though it rolled up to her hips as she contorted to get the heels on with it. Rolling it down, she ran her hands through her hair, twisting the blonde length up and securing it with a stick, before gathering the armful of dresses to slip back into the bedroom and begin hanging up the ones she was keeping. "Enjoying the view again, princess?"

By the time she got out of the bathroom, he had already stripped out of his shoes, socks, belt, and flannel shirt, but was still clad in t-shirt and jeans, eagerly awaiting her arrival. He whistled appreciatively again, but this time allowed his gaze to travel up and down and didn't try to fight what that view was doing to his body. "Since I first laid eyes on you, even if you were poking me with a rifle."

"Technically you didn't lay eyes on me until you hit me to get the rifle out of my hands," she pointed out in amusement, closing the door of the closet to turn and laugh at his preparation for their afternoon delight. "So vindicated that I'm one of just a handful of people who've punched Dean Winchester and lived to tell the tale."

"Hit you? I didn't hit you. You hit me!" Dean reminded her, rubbing the spot on his face where she'd hit him, as if it had only just happened. And he'd been punched plenty of times, but he wasn't about to remind her of that fact. In fact, he'd been punched so many times that he thought he knew what a punching bag felt like, but none of that was going to keep him from making out with her.

She laid her hands on her hips, tilting her head as she grinned at him. "Oh, really? So what was the whack on my arm with the rifle for, huh?" Ever since she'd had her memories returned to her, Jo had discovered a treasure store of incidents from their shared past she could tease him with, and this was just one of them.

"Honey, if I hit you, you'd know it," he insisted with a stupid grin. Somehow, she just didn't look very stern standing there with her hands on her hips in that little red dress. Who cared about the color, anyway? It was the way the dress accentuated Jo's curves that made it so trashy ... er, sexy. "What do you say we find out if it's any easier getting you out of that thing as it was to get you into it?" he said, closing the distance between them, that patented Dean smirk on his face as he wet his lips.

"Baby, you got me right in the heart when I made your nose bleed," she assured him with a low laugh, walking her fingertips up over his chest as he closed the distance, the tip of her nose circling his with her smiling mouth teasing his lips just shy of a real kiss. "Is this the point where I say I'm spending the afternoon with a little friend called self-respect, or did I grow out of that?"
[size=9:e7ee19851d][color=darkblue:e7ee19851d][i:e7ee19851d][b:e7ee19851d]Remember the quiet wonders. The world has more need of them than it has for warriors.[/b:e7ee19851d][/i:e7ee19851d][/color:e7ee19851d][/size:e7ee19851d]

Jo Winchester

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Re: Moments of Worry
« Reply #2 on: July 23, 2017, 07:03:51 PM »
"You fell in love with me when you made my nose bleed?" he asked, never having heard that one from her before. "I thought I had you at hello," he quoted from Jerry Maguire. Tom Cruise had nothing on Dean Winchester. He snorted at her question, as his hands found their way to her hips. "Baby, no self-respecting woman would be caught dead in that dress."

She laughed again, stroking her fingers along the line of his neck. "Just as well I'm not dead then, isn't it?" she pointed out. "Or are you planning to stab me with something blunt and hard?" Not the most suave of lines, but subtle always missed the boat when they got going.

"Oh, I'm gonna do more than stab you. I'm gonna impale you. But I promise it won't hurt," he told her with a grin, as he steered her toward the bed with his hands against her hips.

"Oh, you dirty old man," she snickered, looping her arms about his neck as he guided her backward. She really wasn't comfortable in those heels. "Does this mean I should or I shouldn't wear this one out of the house?"

"I'm not even forty yet!" Dean pointed out with a chuckle. "You wear that out of the house and you just might get arrested," he warned, though that depended mostly on where she wore it. It certainly wasn't the kind of dress you wore to church or did the grocery shopping in.

"I bet I could still hunt in it, though." As she felt the bed against her legs, Jo tightened her grip on her husband, lifting herself off the floor to wrap her legs about his waist, still nose to nose. "Can't you just see me - salt, shotgun, iron knife, and perfect lipstick?"

It was nothing short of amazing that she didn't rip that dress when she wrapped her legs around his waist. Of course, all that was doing was making him want her all the more. "Baby, there's nowhere to hide anything in that dress," he told her, with another greedy glance at the curves that were encased in that dress.

"I've got this big manly man to carry all my stuff for me," she teased, dragging her nails through the short crop of his hair, deliberately scraping his scalp with a barely there touch. "Think he'd mind, at all? I am, after all, just a weak and feeble woman."

He snorted again at her remark, both of them knowing how far from the truth that was. As capable as she was, there was still part of him that wanted to keep her safe and protect her, but he'd learned the hard way that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. It was hard to stay calm with her legs wrapped around him and her nails teasing his hair. His fingers traveled up her legs to hike her skirt a little higher, while his lips found her neck. "How long have we got?" he asked, in between kisses.

It didn't take much to get that skirt to shift higher - just a nudge, and it was well on its way to her waist, her soft moan warming his ear as he worked his magic on the sensitive curve of her throat. Her eyes flickered open, seeking out the nearest clock. "Three hours," she promised; longer, probably, but that was the safe estimate. Bobby was not the kind of man who appreciated it when you answered the door in nothing but a sheet.

Three hours. That was plenty of time to indulge in some afternoon delight and then some. "How do you feel about a bath?" he asked, though that wasn't going to happen until after they satisfied the initial spike of desire. Even if they never got to the bath, it didn't really matter. It had been a long time since they'd enjoyed even a few hours alone in the house with nothing to do but enjoy each other's company.

"I think," Jo murmured against his ear, tightening the wrap of her legs to remind him how close and yet how far they were from each other, "that if you don't get on with this now, I'm going to lock you out of the bathroom and have one all my myself with that waterproof vibrator Becky bought me for my birthday." Sam had been excruciatingly embarrassed by his fiancee's joke gift for his mother.

"Which I am going to find and burn," Dean threatened in return. What did she need a vibrator for when she had him? And with that said, he tossed her back onto the bed - thankfully not hard enough to break the frame - and started kissing his way up her legs.

Her laughter described the arc from his arms to the bed, but soon melted away into tender moans that he knew only too well. He knew her only too well. Whether the dress was defiled or not, it was certainly not going to be in any fit state to be returned to the shop after this little interlude.

He put his knowledge of her to good use when it came to love-making. He knew what she liked and what she didn't; he knew how to make her moan and sigh and even scream, when he wanted to, and with three hours to kill, he just might manage all three in one day. Whatever happened between them behind closed doors, you could be sure they were going to enjoy those three hours and then some.

Which wasn't to say he had it all his own way. After all, Jo knew him just as well, and she wasn't above playing dirty to get a little dominance of her own in there. She wanted to hear him moan and sigh just as much as he wanted to hear her, just as capable of drawing that pleasure from her husband as he was with her. Three hours wasn't enough time, but after almost a full year with nothing more than quick snatches of time together, it was heaven.

Three hours went by faster than Dean might have liked, but at least they'd made good use of the time. It was hard to predict when they might have that much time to themselves again that wasn't in the middle of the night or parked in the car outside of town. Was it any wonder they were both in such a good mood by the time they were done?

A good enough mood, it seemed, to slightly weird out Bobby and Ellen when they delivered a hyperactive Bertie back to his parents. How often was it that Jo came running out of the house to slide across the hood just as they parked?

Ellen glanced at her husband with vaguely wild eyes. "Seems like they had a good time."

Bobby harrumphed. "When don't they have a good time? I used to hear them having a good time at three am most nights," he complained, though it was good-natured complaining. In truth, Bobby missed having Dean and Jo at the house with them, but they deserved a home of their own, especially now that they had started a family.

"You couldn't hear a fart in a thunderstorm," Ellen told him fondly, undoing her belt as Jo opened up the back door to swoop in and blow a loud raspberry on Bertie's cheek.

The baby boy let rip with a squealing giggle that never failed to raise a smile on anyone's face, clinging to her neck as she lifted him free. "And hello to the grumpies, too," Jo added with a grin.

"You calling me a grump, girlie?" Bobby asked, grumpily, though it was mostly just for show. Inside, he was as soft as marshmallow and then some, and it was no secret how much he adored their little family.

"If the shoe fits," Dean interjected with a grin as he joined them. He touched a kiss to Ellen's cheek, obviously in good spirits. "Thanks for taking him for a little while."

"He's a good little boy," Ellen answered him, chuckling as Bertie inserted his hand into Jo's shirt to hold onto the strap of her bra as he laid his head on his mother's shoulder. "Oh, so that's where he got that trick from, huh?"

Jo bit her lip, snickering quietly. "I ... may not always wear a shirt when I get up in the morning," she admitted cheerfully.
[size=9:e7ee19851d][color=darkblue:e7ee19851d][i:e7ee19851d][b:e7ee19851d]Remember the quiet wonders. The world has more need of them than it has for warriors.[/b:e7ee19851d][/i:e7ee19851d][/color:e7ee19851d][/size:e7ee19851d]

Jo Winchester

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Re: Moments of Worry
« Reply #3 on: July 23, 2017, 07:04:36 PM »
"I taught him everything he knows," Dean boasted with a grin. That wasn't quite true, but he couldn't help but take the credit.

"Yeah, I thought his burps sounded familiar," Bobby pointed out with a straight face.

"Like father, like son," Dean replied with a shrug.

"Both of them, if you get Becky in the right mood," Jo added with a grin of her own. "You guys wanna come inside, or do you have plans for your evening?"

Ellen glanced between the younger couple with their happy glow, and bit down her wide smile. "We'll be heading out," she said diplomatically, meeting Bobby's eyes knowingly. "We'll all be seeing each other in a few days for the wedding, anyway."

"I don't even get a beer after changing all those diapers?" Bobby asked, a little indignantly, but Ellen clearly wore the pants in that family, and he knew better than to argue with the boss.

"You can have one at home, after you clean up your mess," Ellen informed him fondly, turning to hug Jo and Bertie, to kiss Dean's cheek. "See you soon, kiddo."

Jo chuckled, stepping back to lean into Dean's side as Bertie sighed hugely, tired but unwilling to admit to it.

Bobby harrumphed again at Ellen's suggestion, which was his way of giving in, while Ellen made the rounds of hugs and kisses.

"Thanks for the dresses," Dean whispered back when Ellen kissed his cheek, as if that comment was meant for Ellen's ears only and that she'd understand what he meant by that without asking.

"Come on, before we all start sharing our feelings," Bobby grumped.

Ellen grinned, winking at Dean as she stepped away. "Well, get in the car then, you old duffer," she told her own husband. Bobby and Ellen rarely showed their deep affection for one another openly, but it was there in their voices, in their eyes, if you knew what you were looking for.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Bobby said, with a wave of his hand to the younger couple. That was about as close to a "See you later" that they were going to get from him, but they both knew that beneath all the gruffness, Bobby was an old softie. If only they knew how little Bertie was the apple of his Grampa's eye.

Jo laughed, waving as the older couple pulled out of their drive and headed home. "Sounds like you guys had a lot of fun today," she said, tilting her head to look down at Bertie. The one year old swallowed, nodding his head sleepily. "Early bed, huh?"

"Looks like they wore the little guy out," Dean said with a chuckle. "How 'bout I get the bottle ready while you get him ready for bed?" he suggested. A bath was probably out of the question tonight, as far as the little guy was concerned.

"Seems like a good plan, princess." Jo smiled, brushing a kiss to Bertie's sandy-blonde head. "C'mon, little man, let's get those teeth brushed and into jammies, 'kay?" Another sleepy nod was her only answer, although one hand reached out to grip Dean's shirt before she could move away.

Dean stopped in his tracks, so to speak, brows furrowed at their young son, wondering what he wanted exactly. He leaned close to press a tender and affectionate kiss to their son's cheek. "It's okay. I'm just gonna get you a bottle. I'll be right back," he promised the little boy. Dean always made it a point to be there for bedtime, and it was often him who gave Bertie his bedtime bottle and last snuggle before bed.

Slowly the little hand relaxed its grip, satisfied now his Daddy had given him a kiss hello. Jo smiled to herself at the little interaction, careful to keep pace with Dean as they went back into the house together. Bertie was just a little bit clingy at times, but there was nothing wrong with that. He'd grow out of it, eventually.

Sam - the older version of "Bertie" - was proof of that. It was hard for Dean to wrap his head around sometimes, having a son that both a baby and an adult all at the same time, but it was all just part of the weirdness that was the life of the Winchesters. It wasn't long before Dean and Jo had fed and changed their little man and tucked him into bed, and Dean had turned quiet as he often did at times like these.

Jo gave him the space to be quiet for a while, tidying up in the kitchen, the living room, making busywork for her hands until she ran out of little jobs to do. Then she made coffee, bringing him a cup on the couch before folding herself down beside him. "All right, spill," she said, without preamble. "What's on your mind?"

"Hmm?" he asked, turning off the TV with the press of a button, as if that's all that had been distracting him all this time. "Nothing, why?" he lied. Even if he wasn't an open book, it wasn't often that Dean Winchester had nothing on his mind.

"Is that nothing as in ... really nothing, or nothing as in ... you're overthinking every possible calamity that could possibly befall us in the next fifty years and trying to predict our lives down to the last second again?" she asked mildly, sipping her own coffee as she laid her legs over his lap comfortably.

"Not quite fifty years," Dean replied, knowing the one person he couldn't lie to or keep anything from was his Jo. "Just the wedding," he said. He didn't really have to explain much more than that. Their own wedding had been a disaster that had ended with a hunter funeral. It was something neither of them wanted repeated, and though Hades had been defeated, they still had plenty of other enemies.

"I know." Her answering murmur was soft, one hand reaching to comb her fingers through his hair as they talked. "But this time around Ayden's funky Sight thing is actually accurate. She'll know if anything is expected to happen, and she hasn't said anything about it."

"I know. It's not that. I trust Ayden, I do. But after everything we've been through ..." He shrugged, finding some comfort in her reassurance, but it wasn't enough to dispel all his demons. "I don't want Bertie growing up the way Sam did, you know?"

"He won't," Jo told him fervently. "We've already changed things. The losses he endured won't happen, because Ares dealt with the last of the Fates, because Sam and Hope dealt with the other Fates, because you and me killed Persephone and Hades. Athena was punished for being a two-faced idiot. Even if there are Olympians with plans of their own, they won't act on those plans for a long time yet, not with everything so fresh in their minds. Crowley, on the other hand, is still a problem."

He would have used a different word in place of idiot, but he nodded in agreement. "Crowley will always be a problem," Dean replied. "The thing about Crowley, though, is that we kind of know what he wants, and without him, who knows what we might end up with instead."

"Yeah, that's true," she agreed. "It isn't just worrying about what might happen at the wedding, though, is it? If it was just that, you'd be wanting to kill something to get the feelings to lie down and play dead." She tilted her head, trying to catch his eye. "Talk to me, baby."
[size=9:e7ee19851d][color=darkblue:e7ee19851d][i:e7ee19851d][b:e7ee19851d]Remember the quiet wonders. The world has more need of them than it has for warriors.[/b:e7ee19851d][/i:e7ee19851d][/color:e7ee19851d][/size:e7ee19851d]

Jo Winchester

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Re: Moments of Worry
« Reply #4 on: July 23, 2017, 07:04:58 PM »
"I don't know," Dean replied, with that worried look of his she had seen so often on his face. "You ever notice how as soon as we get rid of one threat, it seems like another pops up? It's been quiet for a while now. Sometimes I wonder if it isn't the calm before the storm." The question was who would break the unofficial peace that was taking place now that Hades had been defeated. Would it be Gabriel? Crowley? One of the Olympians or someone or something they could have never predicted?

She was silent for a long moment. "I think that we can't possibly guess what's coming," she said quietly. "I think we can only be as prepared as we are, and no more. And I think that we have more than enough support to be able to handle anything that comes our way. But I also think worrying about what might or might not happen is going to suck the joy out of our lives together."

"I know," Dean agreed. Of course, he knew all that already, but that wasn't the real root of the problem, and yet, they had made the choice to get married and have children because if they hadn't, what was the point of living? They'd made enough sacrifices, and they deserved a little happiness in their lives. "You know, there were ... things Sam and I were fighting back home that we haven't seen here. It's different here. Not better or worse, just different, but sometimes I worry when the bubble is gonna burst."

"We'll deal with it," she assured him, somehow managing to sound much calmer and more confident than she actually felt. "I promise, baby, we'll deal with it. And we'll make sure our kids have a good world to live in, and the choice to have a normal life if they want it."

"They're never gonna have a normal life, Jo. They're Winchesters," he reasoned. Sam - his brother Sam - had wanted a normal life and so had their mother, both of them paying for what they'd wanted with their lives. He hoped he was wrong, but neither of them could predict the future.

She raised a brow at him. "Your mom managed a normal life for a long time," she pointed out. "If she hadn't been targeted by Yellow-Eyes, you would have had a normal life. Don't hang it all on your name, sweetheart. We can do this. I won't let our kids be pushed into being hunters unless they choose it."

"Sam seems to have made his choice," Dean pointed out, but they hadn't raised Sam - not really. The future had changed several times, one of which had been when Sam and Hope had journeyed to their own past, with Sam deciding to stay while Hope had returned home to the future. Whatever the future held for little Bertie, it wasn't going to be the same as it had been for his older counterpart.

"You're being fatalistic," Jo informed him sternly. "You're giving up in your head. Well, I won't let you give up, Dean Winchester, you hear me? We will face whatever comes, we will handle it, and our children will have the choice we never had. You got that?"

A younger Dean might have gotten a little defensive at Jo's scolding, but not this Dean. Instead, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, not amused so much as reassured by his wife's fiery spirit. "Yes, ma'am," he said, sliding an arm around her shoulders to draw her close. "Have I told you lately how much I love you?"

She eyed him a little suspiciously, not used to him acquiescing so quickly when she had to use that tone, but a faint smile was quirking at her lips as she leaned under his arm. "Not since, oh, about two hours ago," she answered with a playful glimmer in her eyes. "Although I was a little distracted at the time. That might not have been what you said at all."

"That was lust; this is love," he pointed out, proving his point with a kiss that was loving and tender. There was some heat in that kiss, but it was more meant to show her how much he loved her, rather than simply desired her.

It was love. More than that, it was their love; a love that had endured death on both sides; a love that had somehow grown amid all the madness of their first years of knowing one another; a love that had remained with her even when she had no idea who she was. Their love had given them a second chance, a home, a family. It was at the core of everything they were, and everything they did. And Dean Winchester was never going to be alone again, because he was loved.
[size=9:e7ee19851d][color=darkblue:e7ee19851d][i:e7ee19851d][b:e7ee19851d]Remember the quiet wonders. The world has more need of them than it has for warriors.[/b:e7ee19851d][/i:e7ee19851d][/color:e7ee19851d][/size:e7ee19851d]