Rating:T

Pairing:Dean/Jo

Disclaimer: I own nothing! I'd still REALLY like to own Dean. Or Sam. Or young John. Or old John. Basically what I'm saying is, those are some good Winchester genes.

Spoiler: AU post S5. Ellen and Jo survived Carthage, the Lisa/Dean fiasco never happened.

Author's Note: This little vignette is meant as a belated birthday gift for the totes awesome, Silverspoon; my sibling, best friend, partner in crime, co-writer, fellow SPN fan, Dean/Jo shipper, and just a general all round amazing, fabulous, beautiful, smart, witty and talented human being. Happy Birthday, Doody… I love you more than any words on this page could ever possibly convey! ((squishy hugs))

And, with that said, and you all suitably nauseated by my display of sisterly adoration, on with the fic…

If fluff isn't your thing, look away now, cos that's all you're getting here!

Homecoming

They're fifty seven miles east of the state line when Sam finally sees a smile tug at his brother's lips. Five days of grousing, complaining and general irritability seemed to evaporate away, as they headed further into South Dakota, and finally closed in on their destination.

The snow began to fall heavier against the wind shield, prompting a concerned grimace from Sam, who for once was in the driver's seat. Dean shifted irritably in the unfamiliar territory of the passenger side, and began to drum his fingers in an impatient rhythm against the door. The radio had long since been reduced to nothing more than a static drone due to the storm that currently raged. The two cassette tapes that had been played on loop for the duration of their drive were now deemed less appealing than the heavy silence that had descended upon them - some eighty miles and two rest stops ago.

Squinting against the night sky and the swirling mist of white flakes that engulfed them, Dean released a heavy hearted sigh and cast a derisory glance down at his left hand.

Slowly clenching his fingers into a fist, he winced at the tight, dull pain that the gesture provoked. He plucked in annoyance at the bandage that surrounded his wrist and hand, and muttered under his breath at the sheer indignity and inconvenience his injury had caused.

What had promised to be little more than a simple salt and burn had ended in the older Winchester being tossed unceremoniously from the top of a rather grand, yet entirely rambling staircase. As the ancient bannister railing had given way immediately upon impact, Dean had been sent tumbling down an entire flight of stairs, inflicting a deep gash to his forehead and a sprain to his left wrist.

After finally giving in to Sam's demands to go to the ER, Dean had left the hospital with four sutures to his forehead and a tightly bandaged wrist; the latter of which threatened to put pay to his plans to drive across two snow bound states to get home for his impending birthday.

Taking pity on his brother, and immediately realising the true reason behind his desire to return to their now permanent base at the old car yard, Sam had offered to drive them the three hundred and seventy miles from their hunt in Wisconsin.

Now, some thirteen hours later, and slowed by the considerable snow fall, the Impala was creeping steadily through the ice and snow, with less than a mile to go before it reached their destination.

Casting his brother a brief, sideways glance, Sam bit back a knowing smile and repeated an earlier offer, "You know, we could have waited for the snow to ease off a little... there was a strip-club next to the motel."

Despite Sam's general disdain for such establishments, he knew his sibling had never shared this particular opinion, and a trip to a strip club had become as much a birthday tradition for Dean as cake and candles were for the rest of the arguably less warped population.

"Nah," Dean shrugged, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes searched out the lights of the house that were now slowly coming into view, "I told you, Sammy... I just want to get home."

"Wow," Sam grinned, feeling his lips tugged into what could only be construed as a mocking smile as he once again thought over the strange impossibility that Dean had actually passed up the chance of a couple of cold beers and a strip show.

Immediately catching Sam's mocking tone, Dean pointedly ignored his gaze and tried to unsuccessfully quell the burning sensation he felt colour his cheeks, "Shut up."

"Hey, I didn't say anything," Sam stated innocently, holding up both hands as best he could, as he kept a grip on the steering wheel.

"Whatever, dude," Dean griped, suddenly smiling as the car came to a stop in front of the looming, slightly dilapidated house. Almost immediately at the sound of the engine, a light illuminated one of the upstairs windows, and seconds later, a second light flickered on in the kitchen.

Offering his brother a genuinely appreciative smile, Dean reached for the door handle and nodded, "Thanks, Sammy... I uh... I owe you."

Sam merely shook his head in response, thinking back on the sacrifices each sibling had made for the other over the last six years on the road. After facing demons, hell, a host of warring angels and even Lucifer himself, driving through a snow storm paled in comparison.

Sam's words died on his lips, as the banging of the screen door simultaneously caught both brother's attention, and Sam stole a glance at Dean as the figure of a petite blonde emerged from the house. Swaddled in a blanket, the woman held her hand up to shield her face from the snow, as she stared out at the two men in apparent disbelief.

Dean's face was instantly captured by a beaming smile, and, hoisting his bag up onto his shoulder, he trudged through the snow toward the porch, his prickly mood lifting the second a pair of deep brown eyes captured his own.

Sam followed behind, careful to keep a tactful distance between himself and the couple, yet he couldn't help but watch their reunion unfold.

Out of all the horrors they had faced in the last year, this was perhaps the one good thing that had resulted from Sam's absence. Dean had gone to her, just as Sam had demanded, and upon his return, he knew instantly that he had been right. Dean was happy, living as near to a normal life as his temperament and calling in life allowed, and Sam could not be more thrilled for his brother.

Dean dropped his bag onto the ground with a muffled thud, and before he could muster so much as a greeting, a pair of arms were thrown exuberantly around his neck.

Ignoring the jarring of his wrist, he hoisted her up into his arms, smiling at the sight of her red plaid pyjama pants and the Led Zeppelin t-shirt she wore. He buried his lips against the warm skin of her neck, inhaling the wonderfully sweet and alluring scent that permeated his senses and reminded him that he was finally home.

Drawing back from his arms, her smile grew impossibly wider the second she heard her name pass his lips.

"Hey Jo," Dean said softly, mirroring her expression before eagerly claiming her lips in a kiss that left them both panting for breath when they parted seconds later.

"Dean?" she shook her head in confusion, the smile never once fading from her features, "I thought you guys were gonna be gone for at least a couple more days?"

"Yeah, well... hunt was done with," Dean shrugged, sighing as her eyes swept his face and he watched her brows furrow in concern. Her fingertips drifted gently over the small line of sutures to his forehead and she pursed her lips as she surveyed his wrist and tentatively curled her small fingers around his hand.

"I'm okay," he assured her, suddenly shaking his head and blowing out a slow, contented breath as he gazed down at her face. Checking Sam was not within eaves-dropping range, Dean lowered his voice and addressed her in a suitably solemn tone."I missed you."

Jo smiled shyly at his confession, pressing her cheek to his as she leant up on tip toe and hugged him tightly, her reply muffled against his neck.

"I missed you too," she whispered, shuddering against the cold, yet finding herself unwilling to move from his arms.

"I'll uh... I'll see you guys in the morning," Sam interrupted, holding up his hand in a lame attempt at a wave before he slipped quietly into the house, hoping not to awaken Ellen on his way to the guest room. She would no doubt berate them for having made such a potentially perilous trip, and would probably try to force feed them large quantities of food whilst said lecture was in progress. As much as Sam loved having Ellen's forcibly maternal presence around, it was a little too early in the morning for such an encounter.

Hearing the screen door slam closed once again, Jo fumbled blindly for Dean's hand and began to lead him back toward the house. Stooping to pick up his bag, Dean allowed her to half drag him across the expanse of the porch and into the blissful heat of the kitchen. The warm air that bathed his cheeks and the lingering aroma of that evening's dinner brought a smile to his face and an ill-timed rumble from his stomach.

"You want something to eat?" Jo asked, not being able to entirely shake off her mother's influence and also being more than aware of Dean's typically voracious appetite.

Dean locked the door and gestured toward the stairs as he tugged her closer by the ends of the blanket still wrapped around her shoulders, "Let's just head up to bed."

Jo frowned and cocked her head as if she had misheard, "Are you sure? There's leftovers in the refrigerator?" she argued, widening her eyes as if to make the prospect of left-over macaroni and cheese sound more appealing.

Shaking his head, Dean slid his hand up to grip her waist, as he tangled his fingers in her hair and gently ushered her mouth toward his. Jo gripped the collar of his leather jacket and pulled him closer, surrendering happily into his embrace as their kisses quickly grew more urgent and demanding.

"You go up to bed, I'll be there in a minute..." she directed, her fingernails gently scratching through the short hairs on the back of his neck as Dean began to industriously pepper her jaw and throat with open mouthed kisses.

Advancing back toward her lips in an obviously predatory gesture, Dean simply nodded in reply, his eyes drawn to her mouth seconds before he instigated another unashamedly hungry kiss.

Jo clung to him tightly, whimpering softly as his cold hands slid under her t-shirt and began to map out the warm, soft skin of her back.

Eventually managing to exercise a little self-restraint, Jo planted her palm in the centre of his chest and gently pushed him away, her cheeks and lips burning with a deep pink that left her skin tingling at his touch.

"Dean..." she warned, giggling despite herself as he sighed dejectedly and landed a playful slap to her rear.

"Fine," he huffed, pressing a final, fleeting kiss to her forehead before he picked up his bag and pulled himself wearily up the stairs.

X-X-X

A half hour later, and Dean found himself freshly showered and propped up in bed against a mass of pillows that somehow all smelled like Jo.

He flicked disinterestedly through a magazine he had found in the drawer, keeping a watchful eye on the bedroom door as he impatiently awaited her return.

The seconds passed, and eventually he heard her soft footfalls and the tell-tale creak of the floorboard outside their room. She stepped into the bedroom carrying a large, sweet smelling pie, complete with a circle of blazing candles in the centre and two forks.

Dean laughed at the arguably comical sight, and a quick glance at the clock on the night stand alerted him to the fact that it was now two hours and eighteen minutes into his birthday.

Touched and also amused by her gesture, he patted the bed beside him and chuckled as he watched her carefully cross the room and perch next to him. Jo held the plate up before him and nodded toward the candles, her voice soft and coaxing, "Don't forget to make a wish!"

Dean smiled wordlessly, captivated by the soft, warmth of the candle light that painted her pretty face with an almost ethereal glow. Her eyes sparkled with affection as she watched him stare down momentarily at the flickering candles, before leaning forward and blowing out the six small birthday candles in one breath.

"Happy Birthday," Jo said softly, carefully edging the pie onto the night stand before she leant her hand on the mattress beside him and craned her neck to press her lips to his.

"Thank you," Dean replied, casting a slow, analytical gaze over her face as he appeared to be hesitantly deliberating over his words.

"Well, you're welcome," she giggled, taken aback at the serious expression that had suddenly overcome his features, "but, it's just pie, Dean..."

"Not for that," he shook his head, offering her a lop-sided grin as the scent of cinnamon and apple pervaded his nostrils and he realised he was indeed also thankful for the pie, "well, not just for that."

Jo blinked in confusion, sitting astride his knee and shaking her head as if she didn't understand the reason for his gratitude. Reaching out as the need to touch her became too great to deny, Dean cupped her cheek in his palm, and he brushed his thumb in slow circles across her skin. "This past year..." he began, pressing his fingertip gently to her lips as Jo murmured a quiet 'don't' and shook her head to try to halt his melancholy recollection.

Dean smiled and held her gaze, raising both eyebrows pointedly to secure her silence before he continued, "You were the only good thing in my life, and... " he faltered, cursing his inability to adequately voice the feelings he was desperate to convey to her. "You made it... less crappy than it had to be, and..."

Jo laughed and rolled her eyes, amused by his characteristic lack of eloquence, yet her heart beat faster in her chest as she watched him lick his lips, as if summoning the courage to continue his rambling further.

"You kept me sane, Jo, you... you..." he stammered, frowning as he desperately tried to salvage something that could even remotely qualify as a 'Hallmark' moment.

"Dean? It's okay." Jo smiled reassuringly, clasping his uninjured hand in hers to signal that despite his babbling, she understood the sentiment. Leaning forward, she giggled as Dean pulled her closer and he sat up from the pillows behind him and pulled her to his chest, pressing his forehead to hers.

"I just... I love you, you know?" he sighed, feeling her smile against his cheek as she planted a kiss to his jaw.

The adoring and slightly wondrous expression that captured her features made his effort seem entirely worthwhile. Dean grinned somewhat smugly as she echoed his words in a tumbling whisper and looped her arms tightly around his neck. Despite the numerous girlfriends and 'encounters' he had had with women over the years, this was the first time he'd either said, or heard those three words uttered. Though he knew Jo loved him, and hoped she knew he felt the same, neither of the couple were particularly well versed in giving voice to their emotions. Hearing the words spoken aloud was comforting, and brought with it a sense of completion that neither was aware had been missing.

"That's all you needed to say," Jo stated with a grin, patting his cheek and giggling at the groan she received in response.

"Yeah?" he smirked, gazing down at her lips as he nuzzled her cheek and planted his hands firmly on her hips. His fingers dipped into the waistband of her pyjamas and she shivered involuntarily at his touch.

"Yeah," she nodded, playfully avoiding his advances as he angled his head to kiss her. Growing tired of her teasing, Dean slid his hand up to the back of her head, gently coaxing her toward him and this time successfully managing to claim her lips with his own.

Jo whooped with laughter as she suddenly found herself rolled beneath him, and both glanced sharply toward the door as they remembered the three hunters sleeping only feet away down the hall. Murmuring a 'shhh' in warning of awakening the others - especially her mother - Dean reached down to brush a tendril of hair from her face, pausing as she suddenly halted their kisses.

"So, I know you don't usually do the whole birthday thing, but are you sure there's nothing you want?" Jo checked, having already bought him one small gift despite his protestations. She figured that in the life of a hunter, surviving another year was a milestone that should always be celebrated.

"Nope," Dean said firmly, nodding over toward the night stand as he took in the alluring sight of the apple pie that continued to waft a deliciously sweet aroma around the bedroom. "I've got pie, and my beautiful, naked girlfriend in my arms...what more could a guy want?"

Jo smiled quizzically, glancing down at her pyjama pants and t-shirt and then back up at Dean's face, "I'm not..." she began, laughing as his lips descended upon her neck and he smirked as understanding quickly dawned upon her.

"That a last minute gift idea, Dean-o?" she asked in amusement, arching an eyebrow as she felt his fingers toy with the hem of her shirt.

Waggling his eyebrows mischievously, Dean negated to reply and merely lowered his mouth to hers once again.

In the morning, he'd tell her what he really wanted for his birthday; just as soon as he'd figured out how to ask her to marry him.