Another Tumblr prompt fic, given by a wonderful indulgent soul ready to enable me and my fic habits.
I present to you Jo Harvalle and how her shitty night got better.
Feel free to read it how you want, pre-femslash or pre-friendship, whichever strikes your fancy. Hope you enjoy this one shot!
(If you have any prompts for me or you'd like to poke me about updating, I can be found on tumblr under the username fandomacelawyer.)
"Hey sweetheart, come on, don't be that way!"
Jo rolled her eyes and kept on walking back behind the counter. They got his type in here less often than other hunter bars, the Roadhouse being ruled by Ellen Harvalle and her iron fist, but the occasional lecherous testosterone-overdosed hunter did drop by, and when they did, Jo could pretty much bank on her night being thoroughly spoiled. And today was one of those days where she just felt too damn tired to deal with this sort of bullshit. So she kept her cool and didn't engage, pretending she hadn't heard him. Of course, that did little to deter the man.
"C'mon honey I know you heard me. Come have a little drink with me, I'll show you a good time."
It was the hand on her waist that did it. Jo dropped the empty tray on the counter and slapped the hand away from her.
"Don't you ever touch me again," she hissed, wishing her mother hadn't gone on a supply run. Stuff like this never happened when she was around. "Get the hell out of my bar." One hand beneath the bar on the shotgun Ellen had taught her how to use just in case he decided to make trouble, Jo glared with all the fire she had left and gestured towards the door. "Get. Out."
"Frigid bitch," the guy muttered as he stormed towards the door, bumping roughly into the person who had entered about halfway through his little scene. Not even bothering to watch him leave, Jo sighed heavily, scrubbing a hand across her forehead. That had been the last thing she needed on an already long, rough day.
To top it all off, he hadn't even paid for his drink.
When she heard someone sit down at the bar in front of her she stifled a groan and looked up, plastering a smile across her face that probably looked as fake as it felt. To her surprise it wasn't another skeezy creep, but rather a smirking brunette woman. Jo looked down at the battered leather wallet the newcomer had slapped down into the bar between them.
"I believe this should cover his bill," the woman said in a distinct accent. Her grin widened as Jo picked it up and rifled through it, seeing an ID with the face of the man who had just hit on her jammed in with a couple of bills.
"This is…" Jo looked at the woman in confusion, then back down to the wallet.
"I saw what was going on, figured I should liberate it from him. You looked like you were having a bit of a shit day, really. Thought I'd cheer you up a bit."
A smile spread across Jo's face slowly, and she held out her hand. "I'm Jo."
"Bela." Her handshake was firm and solid. "Must get tough sometimes, running this place. I can't imagine that was your first run in with his lot."
Jo shook her head ruefully, pocketing the wallet and picking up a pitcher and a rag.
"Doesn't happen as much here as it does in other hunter joints. My mom owns this place, she's a bit of hardass. They don't mess with me when she's around." She shrugged, putting the pitcher down again, her hands stilling on the polished wood counter. "But I can fend them off fine when they do show up. I appreciate your help though. I only wish I could see his face when he finds out. You want a drink?"
"Sure. Normally I'd take champagne or a cocktail, but I don't think you'd have that and besides. Right now I feel like a little whiskey. Whiskey shots?"
"Comin' right up. You know what, let's put it on," Jo checked the ID in her pocket, "Vincent Callister's tab." She poured out a shot for each of them, figuring she had earned it after the day she'd had, and knocked it back quickly. She studied Bela for a second, spinning the shot glass in her fingers.
"You a hunter?" she asked after a pause. Bela laughed.
"Not exactly. I… I deal in rare items of a high value and an unusual nature. I find them, procure them, then sell them."
Bela knew from the look on her face that Jo got the gist of what she was saying. She didn't know what she was expecting, but the widened smile and glint in Jo's eyes certainly wasn't it.
"That is just wicked. That how you know how to do that?" Jo waved the wallet a bit.
"Tricks of the trade," Bela said, wiggling her fingers. They were nimble and deft, able to swipe a wallet from a pocket without the pocket's owner ever being the wiser.
"Must get dangerous sometimes."
The thief made a face and the hunter's daughter was in awe of her. Bela was everything Jo wished she could be, strong and calm and untouchable.
"I can handle myself quite well. Thought about being a hunter for a moment a while back. But it was too much of a men-only club for me. No respect in that game for someone in heels. So I made my own game."
The night dragged on as they talked, Bela regaling Jo with stories of some of the more harrowing jobs she'd done. The bar was mostly empty, the jukebox playing some song Jo had heard so many times it was now indistinguishable from the background noise. After what might have been minutes or hours, Bela stated (rather reluctantly, Jo thought) that if she wanted to make her destination, she'd have to get going.
She took a card out of her pocket, scrawling something on it. Handing it to Jo, she then stood up, shrugging her jacket farther up over her shoulders. Taking the card, Jo slipped it into her pocket next to the stolen wallet which had brightened her night more than she thought a stolen wallet could.
"Let me know if you're in the area again," she said. "We can go get one of those cocktails."
"I'll hold you to that."
With that, the stranger who had walked in earlier walked out again, this time as a tentative friend. Jo sat behind the counter and thought about how her day had gone from bad to worse to awful to good in the span of just a few minutes. 'A men-only club' she thought, snorting. Yeah. It was.
She took the card out of her pocket and smiled, reading the number and the message on it.
'You ever get sick of playing the game, give me a call. I think we could be great friends.'