fic (Roadhouse Blues) Highlander/Supernatural) longing, for tsutji
Title: Roadhouse Blues
Fandoms: Highlander: the Series and Supernatural
Author: karrenia
Rating: PG
Characters: Joe Dawson and Jo Harvelle
Reciepient: again for tsutji's previously filled multifandom longing request
Request Details: http://community.livejournal.com/fic_on_demand/1140942.html
Disclaimer: Highlander belongs to Panzer/Davis Productions and its respective producers and directors. Supernatural belongs to the CW and Erik Kripke; it is not mine.
“Roadhouse Blues” by Karen
She had been a long time dry and there was a taste in her mouth that felt as if someone had stuffed it full of cotton balls. Jo Harvelle had been on her own for months now, having separated from the only others who might have understood what she was going through and more importantly what she must to do stay one step ahead of the game.
The fact that the split had occurred was as much her fault as it was theirs, the fact that she had felt it coming on for weeks now did not make the moment of its coming any easier to take. Sam, always the more institutive of the Winchester brothers, had understood, Dean however had done most of the yelling, screaming and breaking of furniture and whatever else had been near at hand at the time.
She smiled at the mental image and continued on her way. She stepped up to the warped doorway of a bar marked with a simple front plaque that read Joe’s Blues Bar and pushed past the open door and inside of the building.
Inside it was close and warm, dimly lit, but somehow welcoming and reassuring after the harsh winter sunlight from outside.
She took in her new surroundings with a quick glance around, the tables, chairs, groups and individuals sitting, talking, laughing, and nursing their drinks; the serving bar at the far end and further up and a stage where a jazz band was just finishing up with the tail end of its second to last set.
Jo smiled to herself and chose walked across the room and then seated herself at table where she had a good glimpse of both the rear and front of the room. “What does a girl have to do to get a drink in this place!” she shouted a relaxed and lazy grin creasing her face.
An man who walked with a pronounced limp and leaning on a cane made his way to where she sat and with a grin of his own. “I suppose shouting for it is one way to go about it. What’ll it be?”
“A beer and keep it coming,” she replied wondering as she did so why in that briefest exchange a glances something more than just her order had been acknowledged.
Of course she had always heard that bartenders made for good listeners, should she feel the need to unstopper all of the churned up emotions and unanswered questions and problems she had been bottling up of late; but really, what was the point?
She was not that far gone, was she? Granted this blues bar, out her on the edge of Seattle was not on the list of roadhouse that she normally checked in with other hunters; but still sometimes one just need a break from all of the weirdness and the craziness and, running and the fighting.
“Got it. Anything else you need, just let me know,” he replied.
With that Joe Dawson nodded his head and ambled back to the serving bar to fill the girl’s order. He had not been around for as long as he had not to know what to look for. This girl was on the run from something, but she looked like she could take herself in a pinch.
While he could not put his finger on it even if he were pressed to explain how, but there was much more to this girl than met than eye, not long one of the Immortals in whom his life had been so much entangled with of late; but something different.
As intently curious as he was to find out exactly what her story was he also knew better when to push and when to let go. It was there in her eyes, in the set of her mouth, and that confident but not overbearing attitude when she called for her beer.
Whoever she was he thought as he pulled the tab on the beer keg and filled a glass with the amber liquid, this was going to be quite interesting. “Of all the blues bar, in all the world, everyone eventually comes to Joe’s.’ he muttered under his breath as he turned around and shuffled back to the girl’s table with her glass of bar and set it down on the table in front of her.
She nodded her thanks and turned her head to listen to the band as it got deep into another set the music covering everything in a comfortable mix of sounds, sights, and even smells. It was sweet, and smooth, and just slightly verging on the edge of dissonance and yet retaining a measure of hope. The musicians in the band were good and were really getting into the rhythm and feel of the music. She found herself humming along in time with the melody.
It was enough to allow some if not all of the tension out of her weary thoughts, and tightly strung nerves. “Damn, this is good.”
From some distance away, Joe smiled and muttered under his breath. “Really good.”
Fandoms: Highlander: the Series and Supernatural
Author: karrenia
Rating: PG
Characters: Joe Dawson and Jo Harvelle
Reciepient: again for tsutji's previously filled multifandom longing request
Request Details: http://community.livejournal.com/fic_on_demand/1140942.html
Disclaimer: Highlander belongs to Panzer/Davis Productions and its respective producers and directors. Supernatural belongs to the CW and Erik Kripke; it is not mine.
“Roadhouse Blues” by Karen
She had been a long time dry and there was a taste in her mouth that felt as if someone had stuffed it full of cotton balls. Jo Harvelle had been on her own for months now, having separated from the only others who might have understood what she was going through and more importantly what she must to do stay one step ahead of the game.
The fact that the split had occurred was as much her fault as it was theirs, the fact that she had felt it coming on for weeks now did not make the moment of its coming any easier to take. Sam, always the more institutive of the Winchester brothers, had understood, Dean however had done most of the yelling, screaming and breaking of furniture and whatever else had been near at hand at the time.
She smiled at the mental image and continued on her way. She stepped up to the warped doorway of a bar marked with a simple front plaque that read Joe’s Blues Bar and pushed past the open door and inside of the building.
Inside it was close and warm, dimly lit, but somehow welcoming and reassuring after the harsh winter sunlight from outside.
She took in her new surroundings with a quick glance around, the tables, chairs, groups and individuals sitting, talking, laughing, and nursing their drinks; the serving bar at the far end and further up and a stage where a jazz band was just finishing up with the tail end of its second to last set.
Jo smiled to herself and chose walked across the room and then seated herself at table where she had a good glimpse of both the rear and front of the room. “What does a girl have to do to get a drink in this place!” she shouted a relaxed and lazy grin creasing her face.
An man who walked with a pronounced limp and leaning on a cane made his way to where she sat and with a grin of his own. “I suppose shouting for it is one way to go about it. What’ll it be?”
“A beer and keep it coming,” she replied wondering as she did so why in that briefest exchange a glances something more than just her order had been acknowledged.
Of course she had always heard that bartenders made for good listeners, should she feel the need to unstopper all of the churned up emotions and unanswered questions and problems she had been bottling up of late; but really, what was the point?
She was not that far gone, was she? Granted this blues bar, out her on the edge of Seattle was not on the list of roadhouse that she normally checked in with other hunters; but still sometimes one just need a break from all of the weirdness and the craziness and, running and the fighting.
“Got it. Anything else you need, just let me know,” he replied.
With that Joe Dawson nodded his head and ambled back to the serving bar to fill the girl’s order. He had not been around for as long as he had not to know what to look for. This girl was on the run from something, but she looked like she could take herself in a pinch.
While he could not put his finger on it even if he were pressed to explain how, but there was much more to this girl than met than eye, not long one of the Immortals in whom his life had been so much entangled with of late; but something different.
As intently curious as he was to find out exactly what her story was he also knew better when to push and when to let go. It was there in her eyes, in the set of her mouth, and that confident but not overbearing attitude when she called for her beer.
Whoever she was he thought as he pulled the tab on the beer keg and filled a glass with the amber liquid, this was going to be quite interesting. “Of all the blues bar, in all the world, everyone eventually comes to Joe’s.’ he muttered under his breath as he turned around and shuffled back to the girl’s table with her glass of bar and set it down on the table in front of her.
She nodded her thanks and turned her head to listen to the band as it got deep into another set the music covering everything in a comfortable mix of sounds, sights, and even smells. It was sweet, and smooth, and just slightly verging on the edge of dissonance and yet retaining a measure of hope. The musicians in the band were good and were really getting into the rhythm and feel of the music. She found herself humming along in time with the melody.
It was enough to allow some if not all of the tension out of her weary thoughts, and tightly strung nerves. “Damn, this is good.”
From some distance away, Joe smiled and muttered under his breath. “Really good.”