Things That Go Bump In The Night

Pairing: Dean Winchester/Jo Harvelle

Drag, drag.. thunk!

"The hell?" Dean mumbled as his legs swung over the edge of the bed, one hand rubbing the sleep out of his eyes while the other searched for the table lamp, flicking it on once he'd found the switch. Glancing over at his younger brother, who was still snoring soundly on the other side of the room, oblivious to the loud noises coming from downstairs, he grabbed hia forty five from where it had been stashed under the pillow case and slowly crept out into the hallway. Back against the wall, Dean slowly cased down the hallway, silently cursing everytime the floorboards creaked. At the top of the stairs, he could see the faint light radiating from the kitchen below. Taking the steps quietly one at a time, he reached the entrance to the kitchen, fingers tightening around the trigger of the gun as he pointed it at the figure standing beside the counter.

"Dont move!." He barked, gun trained on the persons head.


Fingers reaching out he fumbled around for the light switch, revealing the unnamed assailant sprawled out on the floor, having slipped off the stool at the sound of his voice.

"Jo?" He remarked staring at the blonde haired girl, attempting to pick herself up off the tiles.

"Dean. You scared me." She answered breathlessly, her hands reaching out to the counter for support.

"What the hell are you doing awake at 6am?" He asked, trying not to stare at her perfectly pink lips, stained with what looked like flour smears, his mind unsuccessfully trying not to think about all the things she could be doing to him with those lips

Rock salt. Rakshasa. Abremlin. Abrus Seeds.

Dean rattled off ingredients, demons, dangerous monsters and anything else he could think of to cool his upstairs and downstairs brains.

"I couldn't sleep. Bobby's coming back today, and you boys are leaving on another hunt and I thought I'd make a nice breakfast, but I've been trying for at least half an hour and I still dont understand." She said frustrated, as she ran a hand through her hair, proceeding to leave sprinkles of flour in it. He laughed and walked closer to her, looking at the mess she had created all over the frying pan and counter.

"What were you making? An atomic bomb?" He quipped, as she hurled a teatowel at him.

"For your information I was trying to make an omelette, but this recipe's ridiculous! It says to seperate the eggs but it doesnt even say how far to seperate them!" She pouted and wiped a stray bit of yolk off one of her fingernails.

Dean threw his head back and laughed, a full hearty laugh that she hadn't heard in months.

He wrapped one arm around his stomach as his large frame shook with laughter.

"You do realise it only means seperating the yolk from the white, not seperating the actual egg." He said through laughs as he looked over that the half dozen egg shells seperated along the counter, the messy yellow trail between them,

She crossed her arms and scowled at him. "Well maybe if we had better cookbooks I would have been able to understand. This thing's more likely to help me perform an excorcism than it is to cook anything... I mean what in the hell is paprika ?!". "An excorcism might just be what we need to get rid of this mess." He chuckled, picking up the empty carton of eggshells off the floor.

Walking over to the cupboard and rummaging around, Dean pulled out a box of Poptarts.

"Yahtzee." He said as he handed the box to Jo, wrapping his arms around her waist and picking her up.

"Put me down Dean!." She exclaimed giggling as he swept her around the room.

"Sure thing sweetheart." He snickered, dumping her onto the counter, her legs wrapping around his waist and trapping him.

"Now this is what I call breakfast." He murmed as his lips brushed over the top of hers.

"What in damn nation's goin' on here?" barked a voice from behind Dean and Jo.

"Hey bobby." Said Jo meekly, untangling herself from Dean and hopping off the counter, re adjusting her shirt.

"Dont you 'hey Bobby' me darlin', what in the hell have you two done to my kitchen?" He exclaimed, eyes sweeping over the mess that trailed the expanse of the entire room.

"We were making breakfast." Dean laughed, waving the box of Poptarts in Bobby's direction.

"You lot quit horsing around and clean up my kitchen before there's hell to pay." The older man remarked, re adjusting his cap over his eyes, and picking up his hunting bag. "Y'all are giving me grey hairs."

Dean grinned as he pulled Jo to him.

"Somehow I dont think Sam and I will be leaving for awhile."