Chapter Text
"That wink. That fucking Winchester wink,” Jody unintentionally blurted out the infernal thought before catching herself, tenderly touching her split lip and bruised cheek she'd gotten from the hunt they'd just finished with the boys in Southern Kansas.
"Oofta, don't I know it Jodi-o. Dean's got a caboose I'd like to bounce a Canadian quarter off of."
That brought her up short. "Dean?"
She hadn't been thinking about Dean. He hadn't been the one who'd up and winked at her in a not-so-surrogate-mom kind of way. It'd been Sam who had shot her with Cupid's infatuation a few months earlier and she hadn't forgotten how it'd shocked the shit outta her. Despite the fact she'd done a darn good job of sequestering it in the foremost recesses of her mind, for the most part. She'd thought it would pass with time.
No such luck. Although the current tenderness in her face helped.
Donna was the one who'd brought up the boys, at first in admiration of their athleticism, commenting on how fast Dean ran with a pair of fangs hot on his heels. Then the focus turned to his pert tail, how tight it was, in a respectful, loving-admiration-from-afar kind of way...
"We'll yeah who'd ya- oh for land's sakes, you mean Sam?" That light bulb moment hit as Donna pulled her truck into Ladow's on Main in Lebanon proper.
They'd been helping the boys on a case and took the guys' offer of spending the rest of the weekend relaxing in the bunker before trekking back up north. Donna had volunteered them for a quick beer and pizza run.
Gliding into the little market for some Margiekugels and whiskey, Donna continued the convo while hunting for snacks.
"So ya think Sam's got some heart eyes for ya, huh?"
Sighing, she shrugged her shoulders and admitted, "I can spot when a guy's throwing vibes. Don't have a clue what to do with them though. I've never thought about the boys in that way. Well, at least until that happened."
Lightly patting her arm, Donna assured, "You're still spry as all get out. What's he...mid thirties? That's not so bad, plenty old enough to know, especially in this life, that you best get while the getting's good."
Donna's enthusiastic mood suddenly dropped off a cliff and she was spacing out.
"Cherry pie roll-up for what ails ya?" A gentle old timer, with the name tag Merle, at the counter asked. He motioned to the pie stand where a lady by the name tag of "Betty" was stocking, fresh from the oven by the smell of it.
"We'll take four," Jody smiled.
"Oh you betcha!" Donna pulled herself outta her sudden, odd funk.
Betty and Merle rang them up and packed the pies up fresh, then sent them on their merry way with a cheerful wave.
"Mind telling me where you fell off and landed in there?" Jody carefully prodded.
The abrupt, overly cheerfulness of Donna's expression told her she hid a mountain of discomfort if not outright pain behind her ever compassionate glow.
"Been tryina get back on that horse after Doug, it's just hard not being truthful, knowin' what's out there is all," Jody noticed Donna steeled herself, as if giving voice to her inner pep talk, "I'll keep trying though. Gotta be somebody in 'the life' looking to share whatevers left of it."
"That's the spirit!" Jody galvanized herself for Donna, wanting to bring her out of that tailspin so she was back in the mindset to enjoy herself with the guys that night.
Despite Donna having righted her little descent and thoroughly enjoying herself thanks to Dean’s corny jokes and references, it was during her employment of extreme caution while eating and drinking to avoid her busted lip, Jody also noticed she only nibbled at her single slice of pizza and drank ice water like it was going outta style. There was nothing wrong with counting calories, but even Dean picked up on Donna's hesitancy to let loose and enjoy the greasy fare.
Doing something Jody and Sam knew to be highly uncharacteristic of him, he started snarfing on Sam's salad. Jody and Sam communicated to each other with their eyes their recognition of Dean’s strategy to get Donna to eat.
"M'gonna do some sparring later in the gym, wanna run through some self defense moves with me Donna?" Dean asked, sliding her a beer..again.
"Oh sure. Could use some freshening up with the hip and shoulder throws anyhow," she readily agreed.
"They're some real calorie burners the way I do'em. Have some more salad and another slice of pizza so you don't get all shakey."
"I'll be fine. Grew up on a farm ya know. Had to chuck our own bails of hay. Think I can lug your tush around a time or two."
Jody and Sam seem to notice Donna giving in a little, at least on the beer front. She pounded down the summer stout, then proceeded to compete with Dean in a burping contest. To Dean's pride, Donna put him to shame.
When it came time to clean up, Jody and Sam insisted they didn't have much in the way of dinner dishes and they'd catch up to Dean and Donna in the gym soon. Sam dried the few dishes while standing a smidge closer than usual, or maybe Jody just hadn't noticed before.
"Is Donna alright? She barely touched her food," Sam commented while stacking the plates and putting them away.
"Far as I know, why?"
"Dean doesn't touch my salad unless his digestive system is in dire need of it, if you catch my drift…"
"You caught that too, huh?"
"Oh yeah."
Considering how to best phrase her answer, Jody took a few moments before replying, "I think she's trying to get back out there after Doug the Douche. Age and a sweet tooth don't do us girls any favors. But she's optimistic about finding someone, a hunter maybe who she can at least be honest with about monsters."
"I get that. Not everyone's as open as others, it's hard to put yourself out there, especially when you've lost someone in unbelievable circumstances," Sam trailed off in thought.
Jody had a brief run down once, years ago via Dean about the people they'd lost. Both brothers were all too aware of what she'd experienced as well. But was Sam talking about her, or himself? There was a weighty pause between them, an unmistakable charge in the air. Jody felt Sam was on the cusp of admitting something with more weight than he'd ever had before.
An interruption from an out-of-breath Dean, all smiles, sunshine, and laughter broke the heaviness which seconds earlier had been settling. Jody couldn't determine if she was more thankful or frustrated. Swallowing the very present, school girl apprehension which had risen up in her throat, she managed to fire back a grin at Dean who was rifling through the fridge for more beer, and not just for him.
"I don't know what was up before but she's opening up a little, I'll get her to let loose in no time. Boy she wasn't kidding, talk about a hard core farm girl. She dead ass slammed me on the mats. It's great!"
Like a kid at Chuck-E-Cheese, Dean darted back out in the hall towards the gym, beer in tow.
"Dean always gets people to spill, wish he could lend me some of that magic when I'm interrogating the tight lipped bastards selling bad shine at home," Jody wistfully mentioned.
"Yup, he can ferret out the vault code to Fort Knox when he wants to. What's your go-to interrogation technique?" Sam asked as he grabbed two glasses and held up a bottle of Black label in offer to continue the conversation.
She grabbed ice cubes from the freezer and met him at the kitchen table, clinking the clear cubes before he poured them two generous helpings.
"Appeal to their better senses by pointing out the benefits of good confession."
When taking a hearty swig of the whiskey, she forgot about her split lip but her memory came back with a vengeance thanks to the bite of the alcohol.
"Can I..can I take a look at that Jody? We got outta Dodge so fast this morning, I didn't really have time to give you anything but a quick bandage."
"Sure."
As soon as she carefully peeled the little bandage off, it stung like a sonuvabitch all over again and was she drooling? Ugh.
Sam made a hissing sound and gritted his teeth, like one does when seeing something that looks highly uncomfortable, if not downright painful.
"Jesus Sam, how bad is it?" She began to worry.
"Grab the whiskey and come with me. You're gonna need a stitch or two. And press this napkin there, it's bleeding pretty good. It'll swell a lot at first, but go back down in a few days."
That's fucking great. She hadn't even looked down to see how badly she'd stained her shirt. Following him down to the infirmary, she grabbed the whiskey as directed. After a few more large swigs and hisses later, Sam was administering anesthetic via a syringe that packed a serious wallop, but he'd warmed her ahead of time. His hands were steady, she had the utmost faith in him. And once the medicine took hold she felt nothing but the gentle tugging of his quick work.
He cut the thread as short as he could and muttered, "Gonna look like a baby spiders' resting on that lower lip for a few days but they're cute and so is your mouth, so no worries."
No worries...was Sam Winchester nervous? Around her?! She was feeling the fatigue from their fast getaway this morning, a few beers, the anesthetic, and now the Black Label. Maybe a few more swigs would send her jitters running for the hills.
Wince.
"Sam?"
"Hmm?" He responded, sitting beside her, facing the opposite direction, collecting the remnants of the little procedure.
"Thanks for patching me up. How'd you get to be so gentle anyways?"
His eyes went into his lap. "Oh...uh...took a few paramedic classes my first summer, figured they'd be helpful no matter how my life turned out. And luckily, they have."
Blowing out some air, she readily admitted, "Life has a not-so-funny way of going the opposite direction we plan."
He got a dreamy look in his eyes for a few seconds, as if pondering how to phrase something.
"I've mourned the life I used to want. But helping the amount of people we have, spending time with my brother on our terms and not our dad’s, and with..others...can't say I wish my life were different. Adjacent to this craziness at times, but not totally different."
That was a good way of looking at it. He rested her hand on his arm, then he pulled her into an intimate hug, running his thumb through her pixie cut. Oddly enough, it felt like home. Hearing the wrappers for the sterile supplies crinkling, she knew he'd let go and was embarrassed when she found herself tightening her grip. He relaxed and let her lean into him a bit more.
"Can I interest you in a good buzz?" She finally asked with a smirk.
Straightening up, a bemused look spread across his face when he took the bottle from her and replied, "You may."
She then watched him chug a few fast ounces from the bottle, then hand it back to her.