veneficusvenato (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
veneficusvenato) wrote2011-10-19 06:49 am
veneficusvenato) wrote2011-10-19 06:49 am
[After The First Order Meeting; Locked to Dean]
One of the great things about having a pub?
There aren't always whole lot of people in it in the morning.
Some people who are staying the inn are down, eating breakfast.
But the general buzz of this morning is the quiet of silence and privacy.
Which means that Jo can go about doing other things this morning.
Which at present is reading her mail over the main counter.
There aren't always whole lot of people in it in the morning.
Some people who are staying the inn are down, eating breakfast.
But the general buzz of this morning is the quiet of silence and privacy.
Which means that Jo can go about doing other things this morning.
Which at present is reading her mail over the main counter.
no subject
In the end, when there were always too many words, too loud and too fast and too well aimed.
Jo opened a packet of sugar, but only poured half in. Enough she knew it was there, yet couldn't taste it. Delaying the enviable. The loss of the nonexistent distance, the nonexistent protection, nonexistent safety.
Then she rounded the bar and walked to him.
He had stipulated she had to sit with him.
She kept her hands around her mug.
One foot hooking in a stool rung.
Trying not to compare this.
No one else was here.
He wasn't reporting now.
He didn't need anything from her.
"So, how've you been?" Was conversational. At least.
no subject
Lonely.
But then, that's the price they all pay, isn't it? They do their jobs and they take the consequences. Saving people, all the time. Until you lose yourself.
He leans on the bar, watches her hands. Remembers her opening a packet of sugar just like that, at a hundred cafes, a million spots. Half a spoon. Like Jo. The sugar was there, but you had to fight to find it.
And once you'd found the taste of it on your tongue you could only live half a life without it.
It had been a perfectly satisfying half-life, up until now.
"I've been busy. Didn't expect to run into you."
no subject
Small and flippant. A flash against her mug's rim.
"No?" She believes Sam said something like that, too.
About the ludicrousness of the situation. Of her here.
no subject
But he's smiling, a little. With her smile, the curve of her lips tugging his own upwards. Like they're joined on a string.
God, he missed her.
no subject
She did not just stare at his mouth.
Even as there was a moment frantic want to turn back.
Look at her coffee. Her patrons. Something. Anything. Else.
She didn't. Her smiled widened, the fingers of one hand covering.
"I'll have you know, I manage a pub quite well. Impressively, even."
It's true, but the tone is all mockingly smug.
And maybe, just maybe, hiding how grateful.
no subject
"Your mom would have your hide if you didn't."
no subject
She hadn't even thought of that before.
Of course, she really wouldn't. Would she?
No one else would see it in the same ways.
Sokka and Lee had both seen the Road House.
But they didn't understand it in the same way.
no subject
"She'd laugh," Dean says, smiling a little. "And she wouldn't be fooled. Not one tiny little bit."
no subject
Asks the girl who just ran the Order Meeting.
Trying for the millionthe time to picture it.
That so very different life, she questioned here.
Except it's tangled in her head with other memories now.
Dean's smile. Tripping alarms. And stealing half a bed.
Hardly asking, because the asking always took too long.
Like stealing a life then. And never asking.
And never knowing how to once it was gone.
no subject
"No, Jo.
"You couldn't."
Kids, Jo with toddlers tugging at her ankles, with -- That's a path of thought that would only make Dean completely maudlin, and it's not even ten-thirty. He's gonna stop that right there and maintain his self-respect, thanks.
no subject
It really shouldn't be so familiar.
That shift of seriousness in her face.
Had more to do with that sound, than words.
"Then it must not be about kids and drink orders."
no subject
"You're not fooling me that it is. Maybe the others believe it of you, but ..."
Not Dean.
He knows her too well.
"I won't ask what it is you got going on, here. Don't need t'know. Just ... if you need help, call me, okay?"
no subject
Still aware she couldn't say too much, even asked?
But his last words.
Jo studied him, silently.
The offer. His face. His eyes.
How long had it been since last time?
no subject
Whatever she's into, whatever she needs ...
Dean has to look away, unable to keep her gaze. You can't stare at the sun and not get blinded.
"I mean it. I know there's ... we didn't part on the best terms, but - Jo, I mean it."
no subject
In taking another drink of her coffee.
"You going to keep reporting to the meetings?"
Business. But it isn't either.
Not when she needs to know.
If he's going to be here.
Keep being here.
Stand there. Sitting there. Near her.
no subject
Dean nods, gulping scalding coffee so that he can talk again. "Mm. Yeah. There's - it's not all --"
He swallows again, frowning. The perils of being an Unspeakable are - well, encapsulated in the name, really.
"The Ministry's becoming --"
Sigh.
Try again.
"Yeah, I'm sticking with you."
no subject
Pretending her stomach hadn't clenched.
Painfully, hard and sudden like a jolt.
"Yeah. It's the same on this side."
"Hogwarts?" Is a question about the direction.
Except she only thinking of his last words.
He's going to be here. Stuck to her.
Often.
Breathing was overrated.
no subject
He wishes he didn't feel anything in particular about this.
An Order run by Jo. Seeing her every meeting.
Christ.
no subject
What it means that they gave her the amounts to an army.
How certain specific people must be about what is going on.
And all she can think of is him.
To do this. See him that often.
She's glad for the coffee cup.
Her knuckles briefly whitening.
Sokka & Lee were one thing.
Dean was wholly another.
"Good." Wait. Fuck.
Her mouth was hers.
Qualifiers. She needed -
"'Least I won't doubt my updates."
no subject
Good. He can almost leave.
Because this is -- the way she's looking at him --
This kind of hurts.
"Nice of y'to say."
no subject
And then it's awkward.
Not that it wasn't before.
But he's looking at his cup.
And. What is she really supposed to ask?
About his family? About his job? About whether he's dating?
She doesn't want to know if there is someone waiting for him right now. Doesn't want to know how easy it was to replace her. Doesn't want to know if that number of girls is as high as the people she never even gave the chance to replace him.
no subject
no subject
The length of maybe five minutes time.
She doesn't stand. Just nodded, setting hers down.
"Yeah. No problem."
no subject
Five minutes' time and he just needs to get out. This is ridiculous. It's a parody of what they used to have and it's not the funny kind.
"Nice to see you again."
no subject
This is Jo's opinion.
"You, too."
Is so thin.
Polite.
But everything is stuck.
no subject
This was a bad idea. He shouldn't have come.
He turns away. It's the hardest thing he's done in a while. And he walks for the door.
no subject
He even gets about ten feet away.
Before she feels like suffocating.
Like the knot in her stomach?
Is crushing her throat.
"Dean." Escapes.
Defeating.
no subject
no subject
What to say. How to breathe.
Looking at his face.
How long it's been.
How she's going to manage.
Even just the Order Meetings.
Except she has to. Except he's looking at her.
There's nothing. There's no way to explain how or what.
But her mouth opens, words coming because they're habit, not choice.
She can't recognize, doesn't -- "Stay safe, okay?" -- until she hears them.
no subject
Or maybe more accurate: Dean freezes. Just for a second. Then he half-shrugs, lifts one shoulder.
Keeps walking away.
no subject
And Jo finally swears.
It could have been anything.
Any other two English words.
Anything but that.