31 Slices of Jo/Blair Life (14)
Fandom: FOL
Pairing: Blo, or would that be Job?
Slice, 250 words, hi.
* * *
She was setting herself up for rejection, Jo knew, but she couldn’t stop herself. Her mind kept returning to the scene she had overheard a few days ago: Blair, begging her father to take her to a baseball game, or a football game, or anything that wasn’t tax deductible.
Well, Jo Polniaczek was an expert in those kinds of activities. Sitting on the couch watching Blair flit around, she said, "Listen, my old man got tickets for the game this afternoon, but he has to make a run to Jersey." She forced herself to choke out the rest. "You wanna go?"
Blair seemed confused. "With you?"
Here it comes.
Jo felt stupid for even having asked. "Yeah, well, forget it, okay?" she snapped. "They wouldn’t be fancy box seats up to Warner standards anyway, so just drop it. I don’t need any of your crap."
"All right," Blair said quietly. "I was going to say yes, but . . . ."
"Really?"
"It depends," Blair said. "This isn’t just a write-off for you, is it?"
"You got me," Jo said. She held up the tickets. "The cost of these babies would have offset my annual income for 1983."
"Ah."
"But what the heck," Jo said, "I’ll still take ya even if I won’t make any money off it."
Bitterly, Blair said, "How novel."
"Give him a break, Blair," Jo urged her. "That’s just how business works. Now come on; we’re gonna outfit you in some geniune Polniaczek sportswear." Because that was how friendship worked.
Pairing: Blo, or would that be Job?
Slice, 250 words, hi.
* * *
She was setting herself up for rejection, Jo knew, but she couldn’t stop herself. Her mind kept returning to the scene she had overheard a few days ago: Blair, begging her father to take her to a baseball game, or a football game, or anything that wasn’t tax deductible.
Well, Jo Polniaczek was an expert in those kinds of activities. Sitting on the couch watching Blair flit around, she said, "Listen, my old man got tickets for the game this afternoon, but he has to make a run to Jersey." She forced herself to choke out the rest. "You wanna go?"
Blair seemed confused. "With you?"
Here it comes.
Jo felt stupid for even having asked. "Yeah, well, forget it, okay?" she snapped. "They wouldn’t be fancy box seats up to Warner standards anyway, so just drop it. I don’t need any of your crap."
"All right," Blair said quietly. "I was going to say yes, but . . . ."
"Really?"
"It depends," Blair said. "This isn’t just a write-off for you, is it?"
"You got me," Jo said. She held up the tickets. "The cost of these babies would have offset my annual income for 1983."
"Ah."
"But what the heck," Jo said, "I’ll still take ya even if I won’t make any money off it."
Bitterly, Blair said, "How novel."
"Give him a break, Blair," Jo urged her. "That’s just how business works. Now come on; we’re gonna outfit you in some geniune Polniaczek sportswear." Because that was how friendship worked.