It’s
a Cycle (and You’re Doomed to Repeat It)
Supernatural
Dean/Jo
PG
No real spoilers
Summary:
________________________________________
Conversations start like this:
“Does anyone ever call you Joanna?”
“Only my mom when I piss her off.” (pause) And my dad did when I was little.”
“I like Jo.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, makes it easier to remember.” (smiles) Not that I would forget or
anything.”
(smiles back)
**
She cuts her hair to see if he will notice. Just a trim, nothing too drastic,
but still--it’d be nice. If he noticed.
He sits at the bar, orders a beer, teases her about her taste in music--the
usual.
He doesn’t say anything about her hair.
Maybe it’s too dark in the bar. Maybe he’s not paying attention.
Maybe he doesn’t notice.
**
He pays for his drink, tells her goodbye, and leaves the bar. Outside the sun
is setting--a brilliant kaleidoscope of orange, red, and yellow.
He hears her yell his name and turns around. She has money in her hand. It’s
his change.
She looks up and he notices.
He notices how the colors in the sky bounce off the top of her head. Her hair
glows, shines.
He tells her he likes her hair.
She smiles, lowers her gaze to the ground, and kind of kicks at the dirt, and
says thanks.
She still has her hand out.
He tells her to keep the money.
**
Conversations begin to sound like this:
“Does it scare you?”
“What?”
“That I can’t come with you.”
“Why would that scare me?”
“Because you’d be leaving me behind.”
“You know” (voice strains) “You know that I always come back.”
(laughs) “For the free booze?”
“No, not that.”
(stops laughing) “Oh.”
**
He takes off and she expects him to be gone for a long time. Days, weeks,
months.
He returns four days later.
**
Conversations evolve into this:
“So, that was a quick job. Easy kill?”
“Had to do it fast.”
“What was the rush?”
“Someone was waiting for me.”
“Oh, yeah?”
(grins) “Yeah.”
“Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“What if I told you I really wanted to kiss you right now?”
“I’d say you didn’t strike me as the polite type.”
“Damn right.” (grabs, kisses)
**
She traces circles on his warm skin. Round and round her fingers goes, across
his back and down his arm until they turn into squares, then into straight
lines. It curves as he shifts in bed, turning over to look at her.
She waits for him to get up, leave.
He doesn’t.
**
In the morning, under the rising sun, he sees the colors in the sky return to
her hair, turning the strands gold. They’re standing outside. He’s getting
ready to leave, but before he goes, he reaches out and touches the soft strands
like he’s King Midas.
And he wants to say something. For her to say something.
But they stand there in silence.
**
Later, much later, she sees him walk into the bar. She’s at the jukebox. Her
hair is growing out, getting longer. Maybe he’ll notice.
He sits at the bar and waits for her to come get him a drink.
She punches in some numbers and a song kicks in.
She asks him if he remembers this song.
He says he does--and that he still hates it.
She slides a cold beer at him and leans over the counter. He’s been gone for a
long time, but she still has his face memorized. Eyelashes, green eyes, the
curve of his neck, the creases in his forehead--still lodged in her mind.
And then he looks up with green eyes outlined with long lashes, the curve of
his neck tilts, and the creases in his forehead become smooth.
He asks her when she can leave.
She tells him she can go now.
He’s still looking at her.
And maybe he’s doing it too--memorizing her face as they talk.
**
Conversations end like this:
“I don’t know when I’ll be back again.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
(a minute passes, maybe more) “Do you?”
**
They don’t say any more after that.
THE END