Happy New Year!
Dec. 31st, 2008 05:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sabinelagrandeTitle: The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady
Summary: The boys down at Preservation Hall let him sit in.
Fandom: House
Word Count: 300
Rating/Warnings: PG, possibly dubious use of dialect
Pairing: John Henry Giles/Cora (from DNR)
A/N: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
ppth_support. Y'all, I cannot express to you how much John Henry and Cora are Charles Mingus and Joni Mitchell. The title comes from one of Mingus's compositions. It was so much harder than I thought to write in my own damn dialect, and isn't that just a little sad? Thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dizmo for betaing.
The boys down at Preservation Hall let him sit in for the evenin'. It ain't how it used to be back in the day, back when nobody knew or gave a shit what they were doin', back before PBS ever got there. It ain't how it used to be before the flood, neither- crowd ain't half so big as it should be since everybody's scared of comin' back. It's good, though, feels tight and just about there when he drops into his solo. He don't even bitch too much when they have to play The Saints twice in the same damn set.
Cora gets drug up on stage eventually, and he knows this is what half the crowd's been waitin' for. He's just some bluesman who never had the sense to die before he got old, but Cora, she's something new. And she near 'bout brings down the house- hell, if the girl couldn't sing and play the guitar so damn good, he wouldn't be lettin' her hang around anyway.
Somebody puts their money in and asks for Ain't Misbehavin', and Cora goes for it. John Henry didn't even think he had it in him to blush anymore, but damned if he doesn't when she starts staring over at him. He knows all about the stuff you do on stage, but this ain't that. It's true when she looks at him, like he can feel it all the way down to his soul.
He's known forever that people like him don't get happy endings or second chances. He's known he's gonna die alone, nothin' but his trumpet beside him. But Cora's there to kiss him when they count down to midnight, sore lips and all.
Ain't that some shit? He can't even imagine what he'll know this time next year.
Summary: The boys down at Preservation Hall let him sit in.
Fandom: House
Word Count: 300
Rating/Warnings: PG, possibly dubious use of dialect
Pairing: John Henry Giles/Cora (from DNR)
A/N: For
ppth_support. Y'all, I cannot express to you how much John Henry and Cora are Charles Mingus and Joni Mitchell. The title comes from one of Mingus's compositions. It was so much harder than I thought to write in my own damn dialect, and isn't that just a little sad? Thanks to dizmo for betaing.The boys down at Preservation Hall let him sit in for the evenin'. It ain't how it used to be back in the day, back when nobody knew or gave a shit what they were doin', back before PBS ever got there. It ain't how it used to be before the flood, neither- crowd ain't half so big as it should be since everybody's scared of comin' back. It's good, though, feels tight and just about there when he drops into his solo. He don't even bitch too much when they have to play The Saints twice in the same damn set.
Cora gets drug up on stage eventually, and he knows this is what half the crowd's been waitin' for. He's just some bluesman who never had the sense to die before he got old, but Cora, she's something new. And she near 'bout brings down the house- hell, if the girl couldn't sing and play the guitar so damn good, he wouldn't be lettin' her hang around anyway.
Somebody puts their money in and asks for Ain't Misbehavin', and Cora goes for it. John Henry didn't even think he had it in him to blush anymore, but damned if he doesn't when she starts staring over at him. He knows all about the stuff you do on stage, but this ain't that. It's true when she looks at him, like he can feel it all the way down to his soul.
He's known forever that people like him don't get happy endings or second chances. He's known he's gonna die alone, nothin' but his trumpet beside him. But Cora's there to kiss him when they count down to midnight, sore lips and all.
Ain't that some shit? He can't even imagine what he'll know this time next year.
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Date: 2009-01-01 01:52 am (UTC)