[ Something in Jo's chest stutter-steps at the word family, and her face softens, though how noticeably might depend on how close anyone is watching her in that moment. There's a sacredness to that word that makes her think of too many reunions and anniversaries and funerals and wakes to count before she was ten, no less another decade and more from there. If there were drinks and music, it would be easy to pick it up, twist it on its ear, and shoot back like a six-gun all spun gold sunshine teasing. But it's dark, and it's late, and the sky above them looks like something out of a painting like so many caught in the firelight and fireflies and sharp north cold outside her childhood home. And Cas just said—
Our Family.
o u r
Has anyone else implied as much, no less outrightly, stated that? Called her family? Theirfamily? Said something so definitively it sounds like a common, unquestionable fact; that wasn't her taking up space, making rules, speaking up, and acting like this was her place, her space, so defiantly no one felt they had the right to tell her she had overstepped ten miles back?
Had anyone said it?
(Except for Dean. Except for that day. A room, and her mother's picture. Time.)
But even that wasn't...this.
Unquestionable fact.
Named.
Claimed.
Jo's mouth presses a little when Dean looks from Cas to her. The quirk of his mouth asks her to agree, play along, and laugh at this absolutely cheesecake angel-boy answer. Like it doesn't feel like somehow his words stole her breath in a way she hadn't predicted, hadn't known might happen, been able to plan for (like Dean's flippant shit). She gave a faint snort, more huff of breath than much sound, her mouth tilting crooked. Quiet amusement, the whisper allowed out first.
She leaned against the hand on the rail, Dean's movement to shake Cas, brushing her arm. ] It's not a wish—
[ Maybe that even surprises Jo. Deciding to say something. Something that doesn't entirely match Dean's smirk, his teasing. But as much as some of their choices are alike, she came from a place where there were nights like this, moments like this. Things so heavy you didn't turn them light. Because they were important. Because doing so was an insult to them. Like that word. The one held awkwardly against the back of her breastbone.
And maybe that's why she did. Why she does press her mouth and look between the two of them. Continue. ]
But. I'm glad that if we have to be here, none of us has to do all of this alone.
[ That Dean has all of his people around him, and that they're all here to help Dean with what is happening with The Mark, and maybe even her? That if she has to be here, she might actually belong? After giving up belonging as something that had to be sacrificed along with everything else just to be herself, doing her job, even if it was burned into her bones and impossible to breathe without knowing, without seeing the absolute absence of everywhere. ]
no subject
Our Family.
o u r
Has anyone else implied as much, no less outrightly, stated that? Called her family? Their family? Said something so definitively it sounds like a common, unquestionable fact; that wasn't her taking up space, making rules, speaking up, and acting like this was her place, her space, so defiantly no one felt they had the right to tell her she had overstepped ten miles back?
Had anyone said it?
(Except for Dean. Except for that day.
A room, and her mother's picture. Time.)
But even that wasn't...this.
Unquestionable fact.
Named.
Claimed.
Jo's mouth presses a little when Dean looks from Cas to her. The quirk of his mouth asks her to agree, play along, and laugh at this absolutely cheesecake angel-boy answer. Like it doesn't feel like somehow his words stole her breath in a way she hadn't predicted, hadn't known might happen, been able to plan for (like Dean's flippant shit). She gave a faint snort, more huff of breath than much sound, her mouth tilting crooked. Quiet amusement, the whisper allowed out first.
She leaned against the hand on the rail, Dean's movement to shake Cas, brushing her arm. ] It's not a wish—
[ Maybe that even surprises Jo. Deciding to say something. Something that doesn't entirely match Dean's smirk, his teasing. But as much as some of their choices are alike, she came from a place where there were nights like this, moments like this. Things so heavy you didn't turn them light. Because they were important. Because doing so was an insult to them. Like that word. The one held awkwardly against the back of her breastbone.
And maybe that's why she did. Why she does
press her mouth and look between the two of them. Continue. ]
But. I'm glad that if we have to be here, none of us has to do all of this alone.
[ That Dean has all of his people around him, and that they're all here to help Dean with what is happening with The Mark, and maybe even her? That if she has to be here, she might actually belong? After giving up belonging as something that had to be sacrificed along with everything else just to be herself, doing her job, even if it was burned into her bones and impossible to breathe without knowing, without seeing the absolute absence of everywhere. ]