saturday night and the moon is out

[feel_human]

Tucked away off the road in Bon Temps, there's a road house. Warm light spills from its windows, and the sound of a jukebox playing drifts out into the muggy Louisiana night. The regular assortment of trucks and Hail-Mary-please-keep-this-lemon-goin'-just-a-little-longer cars sit in the dirt parking lot; what amounts to about half the town's small population... or, at least, of those of the 'drinking age and above' persuasion.

Inside, it's a bar of the type scattered all across the American South: homey, no-nonsense. Booths and tables. A man in a plaid flannel shirt wiping the bar; a crossdresser in the kitchen singing Gospel hymns and rolling his hips in time with the words just to scandalize the prep cook. A handful of waitresses, bustling about.

Sookie makes her way briskly through it all, a tray balanced on her palm and her eyes kept stubbornly front, as voices swarm around her. Aloud, and... less so.

...I’m just going to have one beer tonight Jesus one beer that’s all...

...better not gripe about me eating fries not after what I did for him last night...

...I cannot wait to get the hell out of this podunk town...

 

 "Well, make sure you do, and before it’s too late," she responds, thoughtless, to the young man. "Because every year you wait? You just get more and more stuck here. Believe me, I know."

He stares at her. So do his parents.

So does the other table. And she realizes, too little too late, that he hadn't said that out loud, not at all. She laughs, uncomfortable. "I’ll get y'all some ketchup," she says, brightly, and flees, ponytail swinging against the nape of her neck as she goes.

Stupid, Sookie, she chides herself. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

 

Comments

[feel_human]

"Thank you."

He seems like a sweet, conscientious young man, and she'd seen the way his arm had been draped over Sookie, as if he were sheltering her. She nods to his plate, satisfied. "Now, eat your breakfast. My stars! What were they feeding you before you came here?"

[gavemea_45]

"A lot of diner stuff and fast food, mostly," Sam tells her, digging in with alacrity. "Gas station burritos for breakfast, that kind of thing. We, uh... traveled. A lot."

[feel_human]

She gives him a lightly scandalized look. "How on earth you got so tall eatin' that junk I have no idea. Well, you'll eat proper, here. Is there anythin' you like, particular?"

[gavemea_45]

"I don't want to be any trouble," Sam insists. "Anything is fine."

[feel_human]

"Did I ask if anything would be fine?"

There's a flash of the spirit her granddaughter shows in the way she stares him down. "If you don't tell me, I'll just go ahead and try to figure it out myself."

[gavemea_45]

There's a brief flicker of abashed reaction in his eyes, followed by a mischievous smile. "I can't wait to see what you come up with, Mrs. Stackhouse. But if it helps, I like vegetables."

[feel_human]

"Better," she says, and smiles at him like a co-conspirator. "Did you manage to get out and around the town, yesterday?"

[gavemea_45]

"Some," Sam admits. "Over to Shreveport for a few errands, too. It's a nice town."

He takes a sip of coffee and gives her a winning smile. "Sookie was telling me that the house across the way's called the old Compton place?"

[feel_human]

"Yes, that's right."

She sips at her coffee and sets it down again. "It was built a little after this house, as a matter of fact."

[gavemea_45]

"Do you know anything about the family?" He tears apart a biscuit and takes a bite.

[feel_human]

She looks thoughtful, her hands curled around her coffee mug. "I know there was a Compton in the war," she tells him. "I believe he's buried in the churchyard, with his family and descendants. And the family has been here in Bon Temps since, marryin' into others. Andy Bellefleur, the detective? He's a descendant. But there are no Comptons left, since old Jesse Compton died last year."

[gavemea_45]

He makes a note to poke around the graveyard some more and see if he can find anything to guide him in future library searches, and nods, listening.

"This Detective Bellefleur works with the guy named Bud you mentioned before?"

[feel_human]

"Yes," she tells him. "But Andy's never been all that interested in the town history."

She says it with some disdain; Andy Bellefleur was never her favorite person even before he arrested her grandson. "I don't suppose he'd be much help."

[gavemea_45]

He can't miss the change in her tone. Sam gives her a curious, earnestly interested look. "Sounds like there's a story there?"

[feel_human]

She shakes her head, her lips tightening. "You'll make up your own mind about Andy when you meet him, I expect."

Adele takes a breath and casts about for a more pleasant topic of conversation. "I hope you have some plans for today. It's Sookie's day off, isn't it?"

[gavemea_45]

He drops that topic right where it is and accepts the subject change - willing himself not to flush as he remembers the suggestion he'd made to Sookie last night.

"Yes ma'am, it is," Sam tells her. "Sookie had said something about a picnic, maybe some sightseeing."

[feel_human]

"Won't that be nice?" she says, smiling.

"It's going to be a hot day. I'll set some tea to chill for you to bring."

[gavemea_45]

His smile is quick and bright. "Thanks. I appreciate it." He glances absently in the direction of the stairs, then out the window at the weather.

"Hot, maybe, but good weather otherwise, I hope."

[feel_human]

"Oh, I expect so."

She pushes up from the table and goes to find the old plastic pitcher, then fills it with water from the tap. "And you ought to stay out in it as much as you can."

[gavemea_45]

This time he does feel the back of his neck flush, and prays nothing of it shows in his face. "Sounds good to me. It'll depend on what Sookie thinks, though. It's her day off."

[feel_human]

"I expect she'll be happy enough to be out in the sun and fresh air," Adele says, sagely. With her back to him, she has no idea of the color painting the back of his neck or his cheeks. She goes to a cupboard and takes down a box of tea bags, then sets them into the pitcher to steep and puts the whole thing in the fridge as a light step sounds on the stairs.

"Mornin', Gran," Sookie says as she comes in. She's giving Adele a kiss on the cheek when she suddenly blushes fiercely: she'd just noticed her pink robe and Sam's overshirt hanging neatly by the pantry door.

[gavemea_45]

He catches her glance and can sympathize, all too well. "Good morning," he offers, giving her a wry smile.

[feel_human]

She's still pink-cheeked as she retrieves a warm plate of breakfast from the oven and pours some coffee for herself, and as she sits at the table. "Mornin'," she tells him, a shy hint to her smile, though her voice sounds normal, at least to herself.

[gavemea_45]

"Did you sleep well?"

He'll have to tell her later what Adele knows, but in the meantime, it's a reasonable question.

[feel_human]

"Like a log," she promises. Which is incredible, given the stress of the night before, but she feels incredibly well-rested.

And this breakfast is incredible. "Mm," she mumbles, around a mouthful of bacon. "Gran, is this different from usual?"

Adele turns to glance at her. "No, it's the same."

Sookie shakes her head and takes another bite. "It tastes so much more complex than usual. Like I can see the farm the pig grew up on."