Blondes & Gingers, oh my.

SuperWho FemSlash.

Joanna Harvelle & Amy Pond.

The Doctor, with his string of words that stretched a mile long and his outrageous hand gestures that made absolutely no sense, sauntered around the Roadhouse, tossing out words that were out of the humans’ range of comprehension and expecting their little minds to keep up with his fast paced explanation. Whatever he was trying to explain wasn’t making it through to even the smartest of the Winchesters. Dean just sat with a look of utter disbelief on his face, which soon turned to dismissal as he chugged down his third beer. And Sam, poor feeble Sam with his interest in learning, tried his damnedest to keep up, but was lost somewhere in between a flurry of adjectives starting with C.

Amy, however, had done the dance a thousand times, heard the onslaught of explanations too big for most humans, and learned to just let the Doctor do his thing until the world was saved— or she was asked to hold something. And so she found herself something better to pay attention to.

Jo had been playing drinking games with the angel and her mother, and holding her liquor in a way Amy didn’t think was possibly of someone so petite. She hadn’t kept count of how long she had been staring at the blond, and no one at the table— or hers— seemed to notice the fixed position of her gaze. In fact, she didn’t snap out of fantasy land until the scraping of the chair legs yanked her from it.

“Would any of you like a beer?” Jo asked, and Amy suddenly became aware of how close she was to them.

Dean held his up, asking for a refill and putting on his best smile. To which Jo seemed obliged to fetch him one.

And Amy swallows that little lump of anxiety that’s stuck in her throat, and pushes her chair away from the table. “I’ll help ya’.” She says, hoping the nerves aren’t riddled in her words. Jo doesn’t seem to mind, flashing her a grin, and heads back into the kitchen.

To say she’s not staring when Jo bends over and rummages through the fridge would be a lie between her teeth. Of course, it isn’t her fault, she rationalizes, who bends over in that way in the first place? That way that just wants you to stare, dares you not to, and today Amy doesn’t feel like staring at the peeling paint when she has something much nicer to view. It’s over quickly though, as Jo finds the beer in the back of the fridge, and Amy suddenly has confidence nipping at her heels, and she saunters over like she knows what she’s doing— which is a complete and utter lie, but at least she can bullshit herself— and leans up against the fridge.

Jo seems a bit surprised, but not too much— probably because she’s a hunter that’s always prepared for something to jump out at her.

She’s got a smile on her face like she knows what Amy’s thinking, but Amy’s not entirely sure what’s she’s thinking herself, so how could the gorgeous hunter know?

Now she’s getting paranoid, and she pushes it down and the confident swells back up.

“So you and Dean got a thing?” She starts the conversation farthest away from what’s spreading like a wildfire in her head.

Jo laughs, and sets the beers on the counter.

“No, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I haven’t thought about it.”

She’s honest, and Amy finds herself liking that. When you travel with the Doctor, it’s all riddles and madness and honesty is a refreshing thing.

“What about you and the Doctor?”

And suddenly the spot lights on Amy, and she shakes her head to the question.

“You and Rory then?”

Amy finds herself biting her tongue, hard, hard enough to hold the lies back because she doesn’t want to confirm what the hunter already suspects, but she can’t possibly lie when he’s standing a few feet away and she’s never been put in the middle of a situation like this. It’s always been yes or no, and this time it’s just different.

But Jo doesn’t push it, because Jo already knows.

Instead, Amy finds a firm hand against her right hip, and a confident squeeze to her side, and suddenly Jo’s within breathing distance and suddenly the room feels entirely too small. And Amy swears, if she moves an inch, their lips could touch.

But they don’t, because Jo knows better.

And the hunter loves to tease.

“You’re a cute couple.” She smiles, and suddenly, Amy’s left alone in the kitchen, watching the retreating sway of the hunter’s hips.

AttachedNote: It’s long, loves. Feel free to remove the snippet & just reblog the graphic. No hurt feelings!