I was having some of the most intense Dean/Jo feels of my life, so I requested Dean/Jo fic prompts on Tumblr. The request was "Umm... drunk." Being who I am, I wasn't going to have all kinds of happy lovely things result from drunkenness, nor would I portray it as the right thing to do.
Also, I was too sad for happy fics.
Gah, show. Bring back Jo.
No rights to Supernatural.
Jo had been taking jobs at various bars and restaurants since she'd left the roadhouse to pursue hunting. Credit card scams weren't really her thing. She much preferred an honest day's work. She barely spent any time at one particular workplace. When a hunt beckoned her to a different state, to a different state she went. There wasn't much time to befriend co-workers or notice regular customers.
So, while wiping down a bar in North Dakota, she was mildly surprised when she looked up into a familiar face.
"Dean?" she exclaimed before she could stop herself.
Dean glanced up at her at the name.
"Oh," he droned, not seeming particularly merry at seeing her, but not seeming disgusted or offended. "Hey, Jo."
It didn't take a genius to assess that the man was drunk.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"Clearly," she noted. "Why so . . . thoroughly?"
"I don't want to talk about it," he snapped.
Something involving Sam, then. "Oh," she said understandingly.
"Can I get a refill?" Dean requested lazily.
Technically, it was Jo's job to oblige. But hey, a week tops, she'd be out of here. She'd take the black mark on her employment record if it meant a friend's liver.
"I don't think that's a good idea, champ," she tried to laugh it off.
"I don't care," Dean bellowed, slamming his glass on the table.
Jo's eyes widened at the spectacle, and several bystanders turned to look at him.
Jo leaned in closely to Dean, ignoring the alcohol stench. "Dean, what happened?"
He didn't answer. He balled up one fist and ran a hand through his hair.
Concerned, Jo happened over the bar and put a hand on his shoulder. "How about I take you home, alright? Or to whatever motel you're staying at."
"Don't patronize me," he grimaced.
"Don't argue with me," she retorted. There was a lump in his pocket, and she skillfully snatched his keys from him. She looked back up at him. "Now get in the car, okay."
Without warning, Dean closed the gap between them, pressing his lips against hers. Jo stiffened at the gesture, hands clenching around his keys. She stayed like that until he pulled away.
"What was that?" she demanded. She meant to sound accusative, but her tone was too breathy.
"I'm kind of grieving," he explained in a slurred voice. "Looking for comfort in all the wrong places, if you know what I mean. With that said, do you wanna—"
"No," Jo told him firmly, but there was a break in her voice. He was trying to take advantage of her, and he was too drunk to even notice. "Now get in the car, Dean."
"Hey, I thought you liked me!" Dean accused.
Jo pursed her lips, giving him a stern expression.
"Get in the car," she repeated brusquely.