"Over and Over Again"
Supernatural
Dean/Jo
R
Summary: tell me, over and over and over and over and over again/it never was time for us, it never was time to let me in
Notes: Inspired by the song and lyrics of "Over" by Evans Blue.

The first time Dean fucked Jo, he did it like he meant it.

He brushed his fingers through her blond hair. He was surprised at how soft it was underneath his raw skin. He traced a line down to the base of her neck and whispered in her ear.

"I'm going to make you cry."

**

This time, it was in the bathroom, in the farthest stall away from the door.

Dean had Jo pressed up on the metal. Her legs were entwined around his waist. His jeans were a puddle at his ankles.

She gasped as he thrust into her. Her head fell back, hitting the stall door. He kept one hand behind her to support them; the other was clasped firmly on her hip.

When it was over, Dean's head was buried in her neck. Jo uncoiled her legs, but she didn't move for a moment. It wasn't until Dean leaned down to pull back up his jeans that she did the same.

She continued standing there, waiting as though he was going to say something, anything.

He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "That was great."

Jo smiled for him and stepped out of the stall to check her hair and make-up in the mirror before returning to the tables she was waiting on.

**

It took awhile for the next time to happen.

Dean showed up on her front steps with a bottle of tequila and a box of condoms.

Jo slammed the door in his face.

He broke it down.

They screamed and shouted.

"I'm not your whore," she said.

"What happened to no strings attached?" he said.

Jo hurled the tequila at Dean's head. He ducked just in time for it to hit the wall and shatter into pieces.

"Now, why you'd go and do that'?" Dean said.

She pointed behind him. "You broke down my fucking door."

"I can fix that." He still had his box of condoms. "I can fix anything."

He proved his point when he had her flat on her stomach across her dining table.

**

The last time Dean fucked Jo, he actually meant it.

Her hair was still soft. The nape of her neck still fit in his palm.

He hovered over her as they laid in bed, legs entangled and chests touching.

She arched her back and pushed herself against his hard center. "What are you waiting for?"

It occured to him that she had stopped waiting. For him. For words he would never say.

He whispered. "Did I make you cry?"

She closed her eyes and said in the same hushed voice, "No."

THE END