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]

She laughs and cuts herself a smaller piece, sticking her thumb into her mouth to suck off the sweet syrup and a few crumbs of buttery crust, then sits back and forks up a piece.

[gavemea_45]

He waits for her to take the first bite before he digs into his own slice. As soon as the flavor hits his tongue, Sam makes an inadvertent sound of delight.

"Mmph. Mm."

[feel_human]

She laughs at the look on his face.

"Good?"

[gavemea_45]

Sam swallows and beams a grin at her. "Good? This is great. It's amazing."

[feel_human]

She looks satisfied and smiles as she forks up more of her own pie, sweet and tart and buttery all at once, letting him enjoy his at his own pace.

[gavemea_45]

Sam spends several blissful minutes savoring each bite - taste, scent, the crisp texture of the crust, the sweetness of the peaches - and then scrapes his plate with the edge of his fork to make sure he gets every last crumb.

[feel_human]

She grins as she sees him all but licking the plate clean. "There's plenty more if you want it," she teases.

[gavemea_45]

"I do, but then there won't be any pie for later or tomorrow," he counters.

[feel_human]

"There's always more pie, Sam," she points out, laughing again as she cuts into the remainder to dig out a second piece for him. "I can make more, and Gran makes the best pecan pie you've ever tasted."

[gavemea_45]

He doesn't need any more prompting to hold out his plate. His smile is sweet and hopeful as he observes, "I like pecan pie, too."

[feel_human]

"Then we'll make sure to get you some."

She hadn't really believed, yesterday, that either of them would be able to focus on their date with the specter of Bill and Maudette's murder hanging over their heads. Now, she's honestly surprised to realize she hadn't thought about either in hours.

She loads up his plate once more, then sits back to watch him enjoy it.

[gavemea_45]

This piece he eats more slowly, full as he is but still willing to find a corner or two for food as good as this.

"I'm glad I came to Bon Temps," he murmurs, as he works through the pie. "Although you may get tired of feeding me at this rate."

[feel_human]

"Careful," she teases. "That's the kind of challenge a Southern woman can't resist."

[gavemea_45]

"Is it?" Sam gives her an innocent look. "Are there any others?"

[feel_human]

"Maybe," she says, prim, though her eyes are dancing. His hair is drying, a little wavy over his forehead, and she wants to run her fingers through it, "I guess you'll have to try some and see."

[gavemea_45]

"Guess I will," Sam observes, with a quick, warm smile.

[feel_human]

"You let me know when you think of one," she tells him, and leans back on her hands as he finishes up his pie, letting her head tip back so she can look up into the leaves.

They have nowhere to be, and nothing they need to do, and it's one of the best days off she can remember having for a while.

[gavemea_45]

They end up lingering over the course of a lazy afternoon there in the clearing and by the water. Once the sun starts to drop lower in the sky, Sam suggests they head back. He doesn't figure he needs to say that he wants them both to be indoors well before dark; it's too nice a day to point out the obvious.

He helps her pack everything up and claims it all to carry, or as much of it as he can, then walks with her back to the Stackhouse home before the light fades from the sky.

[feel_human]

She's never been so wistful about a day off ending, but it's been such a perfect one that she can't even mind too much that it's finally drawing to a close. She slips her pretty dress back on over her head and takes his free hand to walk back with him as the summer sun slips toward the horizon.

Back home, they take turns showering and are studiously proper while having dinner with Gran, who seems to have made it her life's mission to fatten Sam up while he's here with them. And then it's washing dishes and cleaning up in the kitchen with the little radio on, slipping music into the air around them.

Gran says goodnight before too late, which leaves Sookie and Sam alone to await Bill's promised visit. She can't tell if she's more excited or nervous, and does her best not to think about it too much as the moon rises up in the sky.

[gavemea_45]

He does his best not to look as grim as he feels as the night gets darker. When he'd gone to shower, he'd added back all the weapons he'd set aside for their picnic, and feels at least a little more prepared to face the vampire - household barrier or not.

"You ready for this?" he murmurs, softly.

[feel_human]

She nods, though her own good humor has slipped wistfully away, and opens the inner front door, leaving the screen door to the porch closed, the little locking hook slipped through its eyelet -- much good that would do, if Sam's information is wrong, but she can't see how it would hurt.

Outside, the heat of the day has finally settled into muggy dark, a breath of wind whispering through the trees. She stares out at the sloping front lawn, trying to see any movement. And still, somehow, she misses when he arrives.

Bill stands on the lawn, his hair neatly arranged, his shirt pressed and tidily tucked into his trousers. "May I approach?" he asks, politely, and Sookie takes a breath, steals herself.

"You can come up on the porch," she tells him. "But that's all."

[gavemea_45]

Sam appears behind Sookie, watching mistrustfully as the vampire stands there in the yard.

"Just so we're clear," he says. "I wouldn't suggest trying to push any boundaries."

[feel_human]

"I wouldn't dream of it," says Bill, dryly. He strolls up off the lawn and comes to stand on the porch, a polite distance from the door, and slips his hands into his pockets as he considers them.

"I expect you both have some questions for me."

[gavemea_45]

"Uh-huh." Equally dry. Sam looks down at Sookie. "Do you have anything you want to ask him first? If not, I've got a few ideas."

[feel_human]

She watches Bill closely, her arms crossed. "Did you feed on the Rattrays? And cover it up by destroyin' their trailer?"

"Yes." He doesn't hesitate or sound guilty in the least. "I had to replenish. You drank a lot of my blood."

She makes a face and hopes Sam won't suddenly be freaked out by her.