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SPN Fic: "Too Late to Change My Mind"
*sigh* These two crazy kids...

Too late to change my mind
SPN
Dean/Jo
Written for Porn Battle VIII and the prompts Dean/Jo, protection, smile



The apocalypse had to be near. It was the only reason Jo could think of when she saw Dean standing on her porch.

Through the screen door, she looked him up and down. He wore a dusty green utility jacket, faded blue jeans, black combat boots, and he carried a notebook in his left hand.

“Hey, Jo.” His raspy voice made her think he'd been driving for awhile, maybe long enough to not get anything to eat or drink or even sleep. She realized how important this visit was to him.

She cracked the door open. The hot afternoon sun blinded her for a moment. Dean entered, brushing past her. He smelled like dirt and gasoline. The scent warmed her up from the inside like chicken soup.

Dean kept his back to her. “I was in the neighborhood--”

Lie.

“--wanted to see how you were.”

Another lie.

He finally turned around. “Things aren't looking good, Jo.” His forehead creased and he seemed to age ten years right in front of her.

“I know,” she said softly. “My mom called me this morning. More dead angels. Lilith is still out there breaking seals.” She paused. “And I buried Preston last week.”

Dean gulped. “Preston?”

She nodded. “By the time I found him, the demons had already cut him open. It was too late.” She ended with a shrug, even though the image of finding the dead hunter still haunted her dreams.

Dean ran a hand through his hair. “Shit.”

Jo crossed her arms. “What are you doing here, Dean?”

“I told you--”

“What's with the notebook?” She pointed with her chin at his hand.

He glanced down. “It's my dad's journal.”

She dropped her arms to her side. “Oh.” Then: “Why did you bring it here?”

He took in a deep breath and held out the leather bound book. “For you. It's for you.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Well, I don't want it.”

“Take it.” He waved the book at her.

“No.”

“Jo--”

“I don't want your dad's fucking journal, okay?” She turned away, her stomach twisting into knots.

“It's for your protection.” The floorboards of the old house creaked as Dean moved closer to her. “This journal has helped me and Sam through a lot of stuff.”

“So, why don't you keep it?”

His silence made her face him again. He wouldn't look her in the eye. The knots in her stomach unraveled.

She snatched the journal from his hand. “What are you doing, Dean?” Anger swept through her like a flash flood. “Why are you giving me this like you're reading off your will or something?”

“Because this might be the last time you see me alive!”

She recoiled as though the words had slapped her. So, she was right. The apocalypse was near.

Dean sharply inhaled and ran another shaky hand through his hair. “We got a lead on Lilith. Sam and I are heading up north tonight. Bobby's gonna meet us with more hunters.”

“I didn't get an invitation,” Jo said.

“That's because you weren't invited.” His words weren't laced with spite; just a quiet rejection. Jo knew somewhere in the back of Dean's mind, he thought leaving her behind was the best thing, the safe thing.

Well, bullshit.

She flung the journal on the coffee table. “I don't need your dad's journal. I've been doing fine without it.”

“Jo, please...”

“And I don't want to hear anything about amateurs or my mom or me being a liability.” She met him eye to eye. “I'm coming with you.”

“The answer is no.”

“I'm a part of this.” As soon as she uttered those words, she remembered Duluth. She remembered she should be furious at Dean, at Sam, at anyone with the last name Winchester, but the feeling quickly vanished. She wasn't that girl anymore. She had let go of that grudge long ago when she heard Dean had returned from hell and Sam could exorcise demons with his mind. No one was the same anymore.

She softened her voice. “Take me with you.”

Please.

Dean frowned and held up his hands as though he didn't know what to do next. He looked like he wanted to push her away and pull her to him--all at the same time.

“I don't want to bury anyone else I care about.” Jo reached out, her fingers brushing against the buttons on his jacket. “I don't want to hear the news that you're dead again.” She sighed. “And I know you've got all the angels in heaven on your side, but I'm on your side too, Dean. That has to mean something, right?”

His hands lowered to her waist. He pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.

“Tell me it means something.” She gripped onto his arms and held him tight. Any minute now he could leave her and just like that, he would be gone. Fear seized her body as she trembled in his hold. “Tell me...tell me it means something...” She mumbled the words into his shoulder.

He moved his hands up and grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her head back so they were looking eye to eye again.

“It means everything,” Dean said.

His words once again hit her, but this time, she met them head on. She pressed her lips against his, and shut her eyes as two tears slid down her cheeks. Her hands pushed down his jacket. He stumbled forward, moving them to the living room couch. With one fluid motion, he lifted his black t-shirt over his head. She touched the tattoo on his chest, ran her hand over the angel's imprint branded on his arm, and her mind raced with the stories.

As Dean removed her blouse and unzipped her jeans, he also traced new stories on her body. Scars and bruises not yet healed from battles.

No one was the same anymore.

Jo fell back against the couch cushions, naked and exposed to Dean. He hovered over her for a moment; the urgency gone, the moment now savored. The way he looked at her made her feel like she was the only thing that mattered. When she whispered his name, he moved again. His lips found hers. His hands squeezed her breasts, skimmed her stomach, before resting in between her thighs. She parted her knees and he slipped a finger into her wetness. She moaned, digging her nails into his shoulders. He pushed another finger inside her and she clenched her eyes shut.

“Look at me,” Dean said.

She opened her eyes again.

He stared at her. “Look at me when I make you come.”

A couple more strokes from Dean, a couple more beats from her heart, and she gasped, panting his name. She gave him a lazy smile as he spread her legs farther apart and positioned himself in between them. He pushed his hard cock into her slowly.

“Dean...”

It didn't take long for him to find a rhythm as he thrust in and out of her. She arched her back, meeting each one.

He pulled her up, so she straddled him. She wrapped her arms around him; their chests connected, their ragged breathing as one. He filled her up inside. The friction made her want to explode. She pushed him down on his back. He held onto her waist as she rolled on top of him. She was in charge of the song now. Back and forth she moved until the tension rose and rose and demanded to be let out.

She threw her head back and cried out as the first wave of the orgasm overcame her. Dean squeezed the sides of her waist, encouraging her to continue. She locked eyes with him.

“Look at me.” She planted her hands flat on his chest. “Look at me when I make you come.”

He smiled back at her. “Don't---” Back and forth. “--worry--” Back and forth. “--about--” Back and-- His loud groan ended his sentence. She rode him hard and fast until her exhausted body collapsed on top of his. Breathless, she buried her face into his neck. She tasted salt under her lips. He pulled out of her, the inside of her thighs now sticky with his cum.

They stayed like that, legs entangled, chests rising and falling as their breathing returned to normal.

Whatever that was.

Then, the fear returned to the pit of Jo's stomach. He could still leave her.

His fingers traced her spine. She shivered despite the heat still pulsating through her worn-out body. She lifted her head and looked at him. He stared straight ahead, a million miles away.

She bit on her lip, afraid to speak up, afraid to hear what he might say.

“We leave in one hour,” he said.

We?

He met her gaze. “You okay with that?”

She smiled. “More than okay.” She molded herself against him and he wrapped an arm around her.

The next sixty minutes belonged to them.

THE END