Drabbletag 6, Supernatural, Bela/Jo - Hellhounds
Title: Fugitives
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Bela/Jo
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: Supernatural, Bela/Jo - hellhounds
Word count: 250
Summary: even demons aren't incapable of loyalty
"Don't die easy, do they?" Jo says, as Bela pulls off the road, still breathing hard, gripping the wheel tight.
"Of course not," she drawls, as though the thought of brimstone eyes in the rearview mirror doesn't still leave her torn between flight and violence. "Nothing does, that comes from there."
Jo laughs like she kisses - sharp, a little bitter - and for an instant, Bela falls back into memory: racing down the highway, Jo leaning out the sunroof with the Colt in hand, aim and fire, head-shots all. Bella's got the knife - always did prefer it personal. They've both got black eyes, glittering smiles and more vengeance left in their hearts than blood, and it'll take more than a dog or two to drag them back.
No one makes it through hell unchanged, after all, even this wholesome little hunter who was never meant to be there. Certainly not Bela. Her old friends in the pit shouldn't have forgotten that.
But the dogs are dead, and the ones who sent them. They've stolen themselves a chance, and Bela intends to use it for more than Jo's goal of carving a bloody trail through every demon on the continent - or every demon she isn't sharing a ride and a shitty motel bed with.
"Come here," Jo says, and Bela straddles her, pushes her roughly back against the seat, watching as her eyes go black.
It's not trust and not love, but they've got hell behind them, and Jo kisses like she laughs.
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Bela/Jo
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: Supernatural, Bela/Jo - hellhounds
Word count: 250
Summary: even demons aren't incapable of loyalty
"Don't die easy, do they?" Jo says, as Bela pulls off the road, still breathing hard, gripping the wheel tight.
"Of course not," she drawls, as though the thought of brimstone eyes in the rearview mirror doesn't still leave her torn between flight and violence. "Nothing does, that comes from there."
Jo laughs like she kisses - sharp, a little bitter - and for an instant, Bela falls back into memory: racing down the highway, Jo leaning out the sunroof with the Colt in hand, aim and fire, head-shots all. Bella's got the knife - always did prefer it personal. They've both got black eyes, glittering smiles and more vengeance left in their hearts than blood, and it'll take more than a dog or two to drag them back.
No one makes it through hell unchanged, after all, even this wholesome little hunter who was never meant to be there. Certainly not Bela. Her old friends in the pit shouldn't have forgotten that.
But the dogs are dead, and the ones who sent them. They've stolen themselves a chance, and Bela intends to use it for more than Jo's goal of carving a bloody trail through every demon on the continent - or every demon she isn't sharing a ride and a shitty motel bed with.
"Come here," Jo says, and Bela straddles her, pushes her roughly back against the seat, watching as her eyes go black.
It's not trust and not love, but they've got hell behind them, and Jo kisses like she laughs.