Continuing on my current trend of blaming other people for the fic I'm writing ...

[apocalypsos]

*points accusatory finger at mcee*

Make her stop throwing John/Jo bunnies at me! I was fine the other day, and now I've got the beginnings of an AU where John and Jo, after much angst and family squabbling, get married and make babies. AUGH, BRAIN.

So, yeah. A wee ficlet, as it were.

*****

When Jo first climbs into his bed, she is sixteen, brash and bold and wanting.

When he says no, the dark flash in her eyes makes him think maybe she’ll go straight to her mother, tell Ellen a lie and pass her a gun. But in the morning Ellen laughs at the bags under his eyes and makes him coffee strong enough to tar the roof.

Jo bumps her hip against his, gives him a wink when her mother’s not looking.

Two years later, she climbs into his bed again. Presses his hand to her breast, her face into the crook of his neck, and breathes deep. Says something about liking a man with experience and slides her deft little fingers past the waistband of his shorts.

She smells of kitchen spices and sawdust and holy water, like a woman on the hunt, and he can’t say no.


*****

Because the Roadhouse is apparently some sort of den of iniquity where everybody gets lucky. Heh. :)

In unrelated news, I didn't know I bought the chinchillas vanilla-scented bath dust until I poured it into the bathhouse and the entire apartment suddenly smelled like cookies. Not that I'm complaining, mind you.

EDIT: Oh, and in the same vein as the rest of my grossly-inappropriate-pairings Ugly Betty fic, I've been feeling the urge to write Daniel/Hilda fic. SEND HELP. STOP. PREFERABLY MENTAL HEALTH PROFESSIONALS. STOP.

Comments

[squee1123.livejournal.com]

Plus didnt some radio station say something about a Nebraska station? I dont even remember what episode it was.