(no subject)
Title: If I Had You
Rating: PG
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Jo Harvelle/Crowley
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.
Summary: "For Jo, death was one long series of dreams."
A/N: Written for my friend Jackie who requested Jo/Crowley. If I Had You by Adam Lambert came on as I was reading the request and it seemed like fate.
For Jo, death was one long series of dreams. In and out, some remembered, some forgotten. There were no nightmares, a blessing Jo had taken to heart. She didn't quite know if this was heaven, but she knew it wasn't hell. In life she had been so tired. The battles and the worry and the fear had worn a shiny patch into her soul. But in death she could relax, the world around her was malleable and ever changing. Jo had control over everything and that was something that she took every opportunity to work with.
Jo opened her eyes to pounding music and flashing lights. She stood at the top of a set of stairs and below she could see a mass of bodies gliding and undulating in the beat. Glancing down at herself, Jo realised that she was dressed to kill. Leather thigh high boots, tight silver dress that hugged all the right places, hair flowing freely around her face. She could feel the slight tightness around her eyes that told her she had an almost insane amount of make-up on. Smiling slightly, Jo walked down the stairs and headed for the bar. She couldn't get drunk here, but that was fine. She liked the taste of alcohol, the burn as it rolled in waves down her throat and warmed her stomach.
The bartender was cute, dark and quiet. A good combination but not tonight. Jo didn't need that. She accepted her whiskey from him with a smile before sitting on a stool and turning towards the crowd. In her heart Jo was a people watcher. She didn't join so much as linger on the outskirts. Even in death she was shy enough to hesitate.
“I didn't think this was your kind of night life, you're more a quiet country bar kind of girl,” a voice next to her rumbled. Jo knew that voice, hadn't heard it in a very long time, many dreams ago. She doesn't have to turn to know that Crowley's smirking and looking at her like he could devour her. But Jo does turn, takes in the slight crinkling around the demon's eyes, the black tie around his neck that looks like it could be a hangman's rope.
“How do you even get in here?” she asked, the same question every time. It was almost a special greeting between them, like a handshake two children share.
“Through the front door, darling.”
Jo hides a smile in a sip of her whiskey. Even in death she didn't do fruity drinks. Life in a roadside bar had done that to her.
“It's been a while,” Crowley comments lightly as they watch the dancers. Every once in a while Jo will see a face that almost clicks in her memory among them, but then the moment passes and they're just a mass of movement.
“Well I'm not going anywhere.” Jo smiles wryly and sees the demon glance at her out if the corner of her eye. He took a drink of some of whatever was in his glass, probably scotch. A traditionalist wrapped in a visionary, it was a good combination for him. In life Jo would never had even thought of befriending him, but death was different. Death was...lonely.
“I am sorry, I should have stopped by sooner. Things have been busy though.”
“It's fine, as you can see I have plenty to do.”
“But it's never enough, is it?”
Now it was Jo's turn to face Crowley. His face had gone from charismatic and silently laughing at the world around him to serious and a hint of sadness. It surprised Jo, he was a demon several hundred years in the making. Emotions like sadness and sympathy and happiness didn't exist in a demon, yet here was the king of demons showing those same emotions. In the many dreams that Jo had had, this was a first.
“No,” she admitted, “not really.”
“It'll be over soon, you know, you'll be happier,” Crowley almost breathes. His voice so soft that Jo almost thought that it wasn't for her. But their eyes are locked and the club's falling away around them.
In a rush to cover up anything that may be showing on her face, Jo downs the rest of her whiskey, shivers as it burns through her like fire, and slides off her stool.
“So do they teach you how to dance in demon school?” she asked and Crowley just looked at her, confusion and startled questioning crowding his eyes. He didn't get a chance to answer though before Jo was taking the glass from his hand and tugging him into the crowd.
It was a sudden and disorienting change from the space of the bar to the press of bodies against Jo's skin. It was hot and she could feel sweat bead up in between her shoulder blades. Crowley's hand was gripped tightly in her own and she could feel the pulse beating like a drum under her fingers. In the back of her mind she thought that she'd never realised that demons still had pulses but then she'd found the middle of the mess and turned to the man she'd bodily dragged behind her. His eyes were dark as they were pressed close together and the lights reflected brightly in those eyes as they pulsed through the air. Jo didn't know what she was doing, didn't know why she had suddenly decided that dancing with Crowley was a good idea. But it was, as clear as a bell in her head, a good idea. In that moment she wanted nothing else.
Acting braver than she felt, Jo took Crowley's hands and put them on her waist. She felt his fingers flex against the sequins of her dress before settling. As she wrapped her arms around his neck she thought if maybe this wasn't the right thing to do, if this was going to come back and bite her in the ass. But then Jo remembered that she was dead and she relaxed. Nothing could get worse, she was at the bottom.
The song changed as they started to sway. Deep rumbling bass and some whiny boy's high pitched voice. Setting the pace, Jo and Crowley moved together in the music. Arms sliding, the press of someone against Jo's back, pushing her into the demon currently holding onto her hips in a death grip. The woman realised that Crowley had probably never done anything like this, that it was as big a first for him as it was a bold move on her part.
They moved in sync, hips rolled before a step back then they were lost. Jo tugged off the demon's tie, letting it drop and be forgotten on the dance floor. She could feel a low vibration in Crowley's chest as she pressed against it. Heat made her blink and she could see that sweat was starting to loosen Crowley's usually immaculate hair. He was coming apart under her hands and for once Jo was curious. How far could she push him?
“There's a thin line 'tween the dark side and the light side,” the music whispered through the bubble that had surrounded the two. If Jo had been listening to the music instead of fighting a battle for ground with Crowley she would have laughed. It would have seemed so apropos, but she wasn't listening, she was fighting for...well something a lot more important than living. Something more important that life or air or freedom. Their eyes were locked and their movements unplanned but coordinated, they fought for space and footing and the upper ground. Whoever won won all, there was no surrender.
In a split second between one breath and the next Jo knew how to win. In one swift movement she had pressed herself full along the poor demon, locked her hands behind his head, and forced their mouths together. Jo didn't know where she had gotten the courage or the audacity to move in and possess Crowley, but she did it. Jo felt his body stiffen before he responded.
Even with something as simple as kissing, it was a war. Tongues and teeth clashed and there was the threat of failure but they fought with passion and the need to win. They became part of the undulating mass, part of the mindless sea of hormones and emotion and release. Even though this was Jo's death and Jo's mind and Jo's place it was invaded by Crowley. There was the hint of Crowley in the alcohol she had drank, in the music that pounded through them, in the darkening colours and the loss of anything resembling barriers. Crowley was the dark side that Jo had never explored, the hint of something delicious but oh so wrong.
Crowley finally pushed her lightly off of him. The club had fallen away and now they were just surrounded by trees. The sharp scent of pine mixed with the mellow sweetness of maple. The two were still in each other's spaces, breathing the same air. Leaning forward slightly, Crowley rested his forehead against Jo's with a sigh.
"I could take you out of here," he rumbled quietly after a moment. Jo pulled back slightly, looking at him in shock.
"What?"
"I can bring you back to earth. Alive and well. If you wanted." His tone was neutral, but Jo had long become used to reading people. Slight lines of tension ran around Crowley's eyes and his mouth was a little pinched. He was scared.
"Really?" she asked, voice suddenly small. Yes, she had enjoyed being able to do anything she truly wanted, but there was no one there. Everyone she met wasn't real, she never saw faces, she never heard anyone's voice since her mother had cried next to her, telling her it was going to be alright.
"I can, but you have to understand something," Crowley paused, pulling into himself slightly. "It wouldn't be the same, not like when you were last alive. You know what death's touch is like, you'd be leaving Heaven for earth. Heaven for mortality."
Jo stood in silence, weighing the words the demon had said in her mind. Could she trust him? Could he bring her back, whole and sound? Was it even worth it to leave? She was in Heaven, why would anyone sane leave Heaven? But then the realisation hit her.
There was another voice that Jo had heard since her death. The first thing she had really heard after her death was Crowley, laughing and joking with her. Crowley had been the one staving off the slowly encroaching insanity that threatened Jo's mind. Crowley had come to Heaven, the most dangerous place for a demon, to talk to her.
"On one condition, Crowley, and you have to swear to this." The demon looked at Jo with trepidation at first but finally nodded.
"You won't just set me up on earth and then forget me. If I come back, I'm coming for you. I won't be forgotten."
A short bark of laughter from Crowley startled her.
"Do you know how true that is? Of course you don't," he laughed before taking her hand and kissing it. About to say something, Jo cut him off.
"Well then seal the deal," she said suddenly, the words out before she could think. Crowley's eyes darkened slightly and he leered at her before slowly leaning down and kissing her. As they kissed Jo could feel the world fall away. She was going home.
Rating: PG
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Jo Harvelle/Crowley
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.
Summary: "For Jo, death was one long series of dreams."
A/N: Written for my friend Jackie who requested Jo/Crowley. If I Had You by Adam Lambert came on as I was reading the request and it seemed like fate.
For Jo, death was one long series of dreams. In and out, some remembered, some forgotten. There were no nightmares, a blessing Jo had taken to heart. She didn't quite know if this was heaven, but she knew it wasn't hell. In life she had been so tired. The battles and the worry and the fear had worn a shiny patch into her soul. But in death she could relax, the world around her was malleable and ever changing. Jo had control over everything and that was something that she took every opportunity to work with.
Jo opened her eyes to pounding music and flashing lights. She stood at the top of a set of stairs and below she could see a mass of bodies gliding and undulating in the beat. Glancing down at herself, Jo realised that she was dressed to kill. Leather thigh high boots, tight silver dress that hugged all the right places, hair flowing freely around her face. She could feel the slight tightness around her eyes that told her she had an almost insane amount of make-up on. Smiling slightly, Jo walked down the stairs and headed for the bar. She couldn't get drunk here, but that was fine. She liked the taste of alcohol, the burn as it rolled in waves down her throat and warmed her stomach.
The bartender was cute, dark and quiet. A good combination but not tonight. Jo didn't need that. She accepted her whiskey from him with a smile before sitting on a stool and turning towards the crowd. In her heart Jo was a people watcher. She didn't join so much as linger on the outskirts. Even in death she was shy enough to hesitate.
“I didn't think this was your kind of night life, you're more a quiet country bar kind of girl,” a voice next to her rumbled. Jo knew that voice, hadn't heard it in a very long time, many dreams ago. She doesn't have to turn to know that Crowley's smirking and looking at her like he could devour her. But Jo does turn, takes in the slight crinkling around the demon's eyes, the black tie around his neck that looks like it could be a hangman's rope.
“How do you even get in here?” she asked, the same question every time. It was almost a special greeting between them, like a handshake two children share.
“Through the front door, darling.”
Jo hides a smile in a sip of her whiskey. Even in death she didn't do fruity drinks. Life in a roadside bar had done that to her.
“It's been a while,” Crowley comments lightly as they watch the dancers. Every once in a while Jo will see a face that almost clicks in her memory among them, but then the moment passes and they're just a mass of movement.
“Well I'm not going anywhere.” Jo smiles wryly and sees the demon glance at her out if the corner of her eye. He took a drink of some of whatever was in his glass, probably scotch. A traditionalist wrapped in a visionary, it was a good combination for him. In life Jo would never had even thought of befriending him, but death was different. Death was...lonely.
“I am sorry, I should have stopped by sooner. Things have been busy though.”
“It's fine, as you can see I have plenty to do.”
“But it's never enough, is it?”
Now it was Jo's turn to face Crowley. His face had gone from charismatic and silently laughing at the world around him to serious and a hint of sadness. It surprised Jo, he was a demon several hundred years in the making. Emotions like sadness and sympathy and happiness didn't exist in a demon, yet here was the king of demons showing those same emotions. In the many dreams that Jo had had, this was a first.
“No,” she admitted, “not really.”
“It'll be over soon, you know, you'll be happier,” Crowley almost breathes. His voice so soft that Jo almost thought that it wasn't for her. But their eyes are locked and the club's falling away around them.
In a rush to cover up anything that may be showing on her face, Jo downs the rest of her whiskey, shivers as it burns through her like fire, and slides off her stool.
“So do they teach you how to dance in demon school?” she asked and Crowley just looked at her, confusion and startled questioning crowding his eyes. He didn't get a chance to answer though before Jo was taking the glass from his hand and tugging him into the crowd.
It was a sudden and disorienting change from the space of the bar to the press of bodies against Jo's skin. It was hot and she could feel sweat bead up in between her shoulder blades. Crowley's hand was gripped tightly in her own and she could feel the pulse beating like a drum under her fingers. In the back of her mind she thought that she'd never realised that demons still had pulses but then she'd found the middle of the mess and turned to the man she'd bodily dragged behind her. His eyes were dark as they were pressed close together and the lights reflected brightly in those eyes as they pulsed through the air. Jo didn't know what she was doing, didn't know why she had suddenly decided that dancing with Crowley was a good idea. But it was, as clear as a bell in her head, a good idea. In that moment she wanted nothing else.
Acting braver than she felt, Jo took Crowley's hands and put them on her waist. She felt his fingers flex against the sequins of her dress before settling. As she wrapped her arms around his neck she thought if maybe this wasn't the right thing to do, if this was going to come back and bite her in the ass. But then Jo remembered that she was dead and she relaxed. Nothing could get worse, she was at the bottom.
The song changed as they started to sway. Deep rumbling bass and some whiny boy's high pitched voice. Setting the pace, Jo and Crowley moved together in the music. Arms sliding, the press of someone against Jo's back, pushing her into the demon currently holding onto her hips in a death grip. The woman realised that Crowley had probably never done anything like this, that it was as big a first for him as it was a bold move on her part.
They moved in sync, hips rolled before a step back then they were lost. Jo tugged off the demon's tie, letting it drop and be forgotten on the dance floor. She could feel a low vibration in Crowley's chest as she pressed against it. Heat made her blink and she could see that sweat was starting to loosen Crowley's usually immaculate hair. He was coming apart under her hands and for once Jo was curious. How far could she push him?
“There's a thin line 'tween the dark side and the light side,” the music whispered through the bubble that had surrounded the two. If Jo had been listening to the music instead of fighting a battle for ground with Crowley she would have laughed. It would have seemed so apropos, but she wasn't listening, she was fighting for...well something a lot more important than living. Something more important that life or air or freedom. Their eyes were locked and their movements unplanned but coordinated, they fought for space and footing and the upper ground. Whoever won won all, there was no surrender.
In a split second between one breath and the next Jo knew how to win. In one swift movement she had pressed herself full along the poor demon, locked her hands behind his head, and forced their mouths together. Jo didn't know where she had gotten the courage or the audacity to move in and possess Crowley, but she did it. Jo felt his body stiffen before he responded.
Even with something as simple as kissing, it was a war. Tongues and teeth clashed and there was the threat of failure but they fought with passion and the need to win. They became part of the undulating mass, part of the mindless sea of hormones and emotion and release. Even though this was Jo's death and Jo's mind and Jo's place it was invaded by Crowley. There was the hint of Crowley in the alcohol she had drank, in the music that pounded through them, in the darkening colours and the loss of anything resembling barriers. Crowley was the dark side that Jo had never explored, the hint of something delicious but oh so wrong.
Crowley finally pushed her lightly off of him. The club had fallen away and now they were just surrounded by trees. The sharp scent of pine mixed with the mellow sweetness of maple. The two were still in each other's spaces, breathing the same air. Leaning forward slightly, Crowley rested his forehead against Jo's with a sigh.
"I could take you out of here," he rumbled quietly after a moment. Jo pulled back slightly, looking at him in shock.
"What?"
"I can bring you back to earth. Alive and well. If you wanted." His tone was neutral, but Jo had long become used to reading people. Slight lines of tension ran around Crowley's eyes and his mouth was a little pinched. He was scared.
"Really?" she asked, voice suddenly small. Yes, she had enjoyed being able to do anything she truly wanted, but there was no one there. Everyone she met wasn't real, she never saw faces, she never heard anyone's voice since her mother had cried next to her, telling her it was going to be alright.
"I can, but you have to understand something," Crowley paused, pulling into himself slightly. "It wouldn't be the same, not like when you were last alive. You know what death's touch is like, you'd be leaving Heaven for earth. Heaven for mortality."
Jo stood in silence, weighing the words the demon had said in her mind. Could she trust him? Could he bring her back, whole and sound? Was it even worth it to leave? She was in Heaven, why would anyone sane leave Heaven? But then the realisation hit her.
There was another voice that Jo had heard since her death. The first thing she had really heard after her death was Crowley, laughing and joking with her. Crowley had been the one staving off the slowly encroaching insanity that threatened Jo's mind. Crowley had come to Heaven, the most dangerous place for a demon, to talk to her.
"On one condition, Crowley, and you have to swear to this." The demon looked at Jo with trepidation at first but finally nodded.
"You won't just set me up on earth and then forget me. If I come back, I'm coming for you. I won't be forgotten."
A short bark of laughter from Crowley startled her.
"Do you know how true that is? Of course you don't," he laughed before taking her hand and kissing it. About to say something, Jo cut him off.
"Well then seal the deal," she said suddenly, the words out before she could think. Crowley's eyes darkened slightly and he leered at her before slowly leaning down and kissing her. As they kissed Jo could feel the world fall away. She was going home.