Title: The Dive Bar

Author: storydivagirl

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: don't own JOA characters/plots/etc, just a fangirl

A/N: Written for the firstline challenge at livejournal--the challenge to start with the line "The room smells of cigarettes and stale beer." A short ficlet. Feedback always appreciated.

The room smells of cigarettes and stale beer. It wasn't exactly the ambiance he imagined when Joan called him and asked him to meet her right away. He couldn't help but wonder what the hell his little sister had gotten herself into. He knew she had a tendency to act impulsively, pulling outrageous stunts, but hanging out at a dive bar with sticky floors (dear god, let that be beer, he prayed) and creepy men seemed insane even for her. He called out her name, garnering glares from surly types who could surely kick his ass if it wasn't considered horribly inappropriate to beat up gimps—even in this place.

Kevin, thank God. I thought I'd have to call mom and dadcan you imagine that phone call? I'd be grounded until my thirtieth birthday, Joan said, rushing to her brother's side. He stared up at her with an expectant gaze and she shrugged, I had to make a small detour after work.

A small detour? Here?

It's a long story.

Aren't they all.

Can we get out of here before my wheels get stuck to the surface?

It is kinda gross, isn't it?

He glared at his sister. Kinda gross? He took a deep breath, a trick he had learned from his father and had put to good use where his slightly erratic siblings were concerned, and asked, Do I need to give you a lecture from the big brother arsenal?

Look at this place, Joan. Now the question is, do I give you the look at me and remember that alcohol is bad lecture or do I focus on the creepy old men do bad things to young girls one?

Ew Kevin.

I'm serious. What could you possibly need here?

I was meeting a friend.

Was this friend's name Stinger and did he just get released from prison?

she replied.

Joan, you need to give me something more than it's a long story' if you want me to drop this, Kevin replied. He studied his sister. There was a time when he could read her so well. He knew exactly how to annoy her, the perfect way to get under her skin, and even how to cheer her up when some punk ass skaterboy broke her heart. This past year though had been a rollercoaster ride—she was all over the place and tight-lipped about all of it. That wasn't his sister.

Maybe his accident had damaged more than his nerve endings. He knew it had, but until that moment, face to face with this horrible setting, he didn't realize the way it might have changed his sister. He wanted to protect her. That was his job—to keep her safe, to always be there for her. He forced a smile and said, I understand the urge to be adventurous at sixteen—

That's not what this was.

Does this have to do with Adam?

Adam? In a dive bar? Yeah, and later I'm meeting Grace at the local Arcadia brothel, she replied. She folded her arms and glared at him before replying, I thought you'd—

I'd what? Not ask any questions?

She shrugged, It's not a big deal. Someone asked me to talk to the owner about something. I did. It's done. A torrential downpoor started and I needed a ride home. End of story.

Kevin wanted to believe that was the end of the story, that there was nothing odd about her vague explanation, but he knew better. The lack of décor, the pungent smell emanating from what he could only guess was the bathroom, and the cliché badasses sitting at the bar made that all to clear too him. But this wasn't the place to hash this out. Not when he was expecting someone to come up and proposition his sister in front of him andnot going to happen. So he forced himself to turn around and head back for the door and the safety of the open night's sky.

Kevin, please don't tell mom and dad. They're still recovering from the whole dance thing and—

This made Kevin stop. He glanced up at her and asked, Are you on drugs or something?

What? No, she replied. She seemed shocked by his accusation, looking like someone had risen from the dead before her eyes. She quickly added, No way.

Okay, good. I believe you, he said, making his way out the door and to the stationwagon. He glanced at his sister and explained, I wanted to make sure.

I would never do that.

I know. You're a different kind of crazy.

Gee thanks, Kevin, she said.

You're welcome, he replied. He glanced at the sky. It had stopped raining about fifteen minutes ago and the early evening sky was a blend of orange and blue hues. He sighed and said, I'm hungry.

Burgers. Your treat.

My treat? she questioned. She met his gaze and sighed, Fine. Burgers to buy your silence.

You can't keep doing this stuff, Joan.

Don't worry. I don't.

That's obvious. You don't seem to worry about much these days.

As if she was doing it simply to annoy him, she shrugged again and said, Maybe because I understand why I'm doing these things. It's for a good cause.

Like building your boat and having a yard sale and knitting a flag the size of New Jersey—

I never—

He grinned, I was just providing you with a few suggestions.

She rolled her eyes and hopped into the passenger seat of the car. She folded her arms once again, as though she was actually offended by his comments (after sixteen years of bothering her, he knew better), and said, Can we go now please?

Kevin nodded. He decided any boring lectures could wait until another day. There was something about Joan's skewed reasoning that made him worry less. And if worse came to worse, he would beat the crap out of her when the time was right.

{fin}