NO JOB FOR A LADY pt. 2 / budd x fem!reader
a/n: i banged this out and i fucking loved it. i think i'm gonna make this a small series lmk what you think
18+ content / budd x fem!reader
cw: smoking, alcohol, swearing, drugs
PART ONE
It was getting to the end of your shift. You were putting away stock, having cleaned the bar yourself, and your feet were killing. Your eyes hovered over the bottle of rum on the back shelf, and one sentence replayed in your head: I need a drink.
Budd had approached the bar with such cat-like footsteps that you hadn't even clocked him. It was unexpected for a man of his stature, on top of those cowboy boots he always wore (weren't they meant to clack?). He cleared his throat, and you looked up at him. "Y/N. I'm headin' off for the night. You, uh, good here?"
"Yeah, I'm almost done," you answered, sliding a bottle of beer into one of the fridges.
"Cool. You in tomorrow?"
"Obviously. Hey, Budd."
He looked at you and squinted a little. "Yup?"
"I could use a drink. But not here." You paused hesitantly, then asked him: "You wanna join me?"
He was taken aback by your offer, and remained in stunned silence for a few seconds. Why would a young, beautiful thing like you want to go for a drink with him?
Oh, yeah. It dawned on him-- this was probably a group thing. Why somebody would want to spend more time with the people they saw all day, every day was something that had always baffled him. "Who else is comin'?"
You arched your brows at him. "Nobody; I was asking you."
...right. Budd looked at you, attempting to suss you out, but nothing came of it. The idea that this was some sort of prank sprang into mind, but he pushed it to one side. "Huh." He considered it-- to be fair, he would only end up going back to his trailer to drink alone until he passed out. Some company and drinking at an actual drinking establishment couldn't hurt. "Yeah, sure." He nodded at the stock you were putting away. "You gonna be long?"
"Five minutes, ten at most."
He dug out his pack of cigarettes and placed one between his lips. "Alrighty."
--
Budd had smoked a cigarette outside while he waited for you, then the two of you had driven separately to a bar further into town. Not a dive bar, not a fancy one. Just a regular bar, although Budd would have probably looked more suited to a dive bar.
"Let me get this round," you said, steadying yourself on the barstool. You hooked your heels around the horizontal piece across the bottom of it, then rested your arms on the bar itself.
Budd's lips twitched into a small, but equally charming, smile. Half of it was from flattery, the other half from the stolen glance at your chest. "You're fine, I'll buy 'em."
"I invited you. If I have another, you can pay. You unclogged that toilet for me, the least I can do is buy you a drink."
"Huh." Budd mulled it over, his smile growing somewhat. "Alrighty, then. But, uh, when I pay, your drink can't exceed... let's call it five bucks." He flashed a playful grin.
"Very funny. What're you having?"
"Whiskey, please. On the rocks." He paused. "Thanks."
"Don't worry about it," you answered, mirroring what he had said to you earlier that day.
You ordered the drinks (you had gone for a sweet cocktail) and, minutes later, the two of you were gratefully sipping on them. It was a Friday night and it had been busier than usual. Not too busy, but with you alone on the bar it was more difficult than it should have been. People didn't have patience these days.
"So what's a girl like you workin' in a titty bar for? You're young. You can do better," he prompted, offering a cigarette your way.
You took it, placed it between your lips. To your surprise, he leaned in to spark it up for you, coarse hands cupping the flame. You sucked in gently, taking a small drag, then allowed the smoke to billow through your nose. He admired it quietly, eyes flickering across your soft face. He had at least a good decade on you, perhaps more, and it was nice to see a fresh face such as your own. It made him feel younger than he was. These days, he felt old and weary. Broken down from the life he'd endured.
"It's easy money, and I don't have to take my clothes off," you said simply.
He cocked his head. "Huh. Understandable."
You watched him light his own cigarette, and he took a much deeper drag than you. By the sound of his voice, you theorised he had been smoking since birth. It was rough, and listening to him sometimes made you feel like you needed to clear your throat. "D'you live alone?"
He laughed then, taking another drag. "Why? You interested?" he joked, swilling the ice cubes around in his glass. "Yeah, I do. Do you?"
A grin graced your lips. "Yeah. No wife or kids?"
"None that I know of." His smile faded a little, but a small one remained. There were deep thoughts behind those gorgeous blue eyes, and you yearned to know what they were. "Why?"
"You never talk about yourself. I barely know you."
"What interest does a young woman, such as yourself," he began, pausing to take a sip of his drink, "have in a lonely old man like me?"
"You've lived."
Again, he cocked his head in understanding, then pursed his lips. "I guess that's a fair answer."
"How come you work in, as you so delicately put it, a titty bar?" you pressed, glancing him up and down. For someone who looked like life had beaten him left and right, he was handsome, and this wasn't the first time you'd noticed.
"I quit my old job and this was the first one that came up. And it's close to my house." He paused, then flashed a small grin. "My house on wheels, that is."
He seemed the type to live in a trailer, and for that you weren't surprised. It suited him. "What did you do before?"
"Can't tell you that, 'm afraid."
You arched your brows at him, interest piqued. "Why not?"
"Just can't. Stop lookin' at me like that, doll. I'm not gonna tell you."
Doll. Warmth pooled in your stomach and collected somewhere special. He watched your lips closely as they touched the glass, then as you licked them after you'd taken a drink. "Fine. Answer me this-- why'd you offer to unclog the toilet for me?"
Budd watched you bring your cigarette to your lips, pressing his own together. Hold it, cowboy, she's too young and beautiful for you. "Unsanitary for a bartender to be doin' jobs like that," he grinned, taking another drag of his cigarette.
"Bzzt. Wrong answer."
He released a sigh, still smiling. You were a stubborn one, he'd give you that. Persistent, too. Perhaps a little bit nosy. "Alright. You bought me a drink, so I'll be honest," he hummed thoughtfully. "It ain't a job for a young lady. You don't ask a lady to unclog a shitty toilet."
"I could have done it myself."
"But you shouldn't be expected to is what I mean. With all the blow that asshole does, you'd think he'd be the one with enough energy to unclog a shitter. You work your ass off and he treats you like shit. I seen it. I seen it a lot, and not just with you."
You were taken aback by his passion-- his persona was a different story, but if you saw him in the street you wouldn't put it past him to be a violent woman-beater. No, right now, he was coming across as a gentle, old soul. A gentle giant, almost. It made sense. He always held doors open for you, always offered you a cigarette, and he never spoke to you (or even looked at you) like you were a piece of meat. It didn't go unappreciated.
Your foot found his calf and tapped it a few times. "I appreciate that. Sometimes I wonder if it's me."
He tensed a little, not enough for it to be noticeable, at the sudden touch, but pushed it to one side. Well done, cowboy, one touch from a woman and you're pissing your pants. "It ain't you. It's him. You should be workin' somewhere like this. Or, uh, you know. One of the high-end, fancy places. You never applied?"
"I hate Larry, I do. But what's he gonna do? Fire me? Who's gonna work behind the bar?"
Budd took a thoughtful, long drag of his cigarette, then tapped the ash into the tray next to him. You followed suit and tapped yours, too. "Fair point, but not a good enough reason to stay." Another swig of his drink came.
"It's fine, there are worse places out there. I'm keeping my eye out for better ones, though. God forbid I'm still there when I'm-- how old are you again?" You smiled, laughing quietly at his face.
His brows had arched, stunned for a second, but a laugh quickly replaced his shocked expression. "I'm 48. For what it's worth," he downed most of his drink, "I'll miss you if you go."
You stifled a laugh while you drank some more, wincing slightly as the alcohol ran down your throat. It shouldn't have burned that much, it was a cocktail-- conversely, Budd didn't seem to bat an eyelid when he downed his whiskey. He must drink a lot.
"You'll miss me."
"Uh-huh." A sheepishness flashed across his eyes, and he took another drag.
"I've spoken to you more tonight than I ever have before."
"I know. I like your presence. And it's nice to have a pretty face behind that bar."
A smile, once again, graced your painted lips, and a flush tainted your cheeks. You were embarrassed by how easily he was untangling you and wondered if it was as obvious as you felt it was. Budd, on the other hand, looked sheepish, almost coy, about the words he'd just spoken. Like he wasn't used to handing out such things. "That's real sweet, thank you," you said, taking a drag. He failed to control his gaze, which lingered over your lips hauntingly. "I'd miss seeing your face by the door if you left."
"Don't lie," he chuckled, making a mental note of the way you blushed. Was it a result of flattery, or were you actually interested in him? He assumed it was the former, hoped for the latter.
"I'm not!" you said truthfully, flashing an embarrassed grin. "If I'm truthful, I've wanted to ask to get a drink or something with you for a few weeks now."
"Or somethin'?" he pressed, seizing the chance to gaze down at your body, then back to your face.
"Filth. Stop that." You kicked his calf gently, a smile tugging at your lips. This side of him was different. You liked it. Maybe it was the drink.
He chuckled again, mostly to himself, took a final drag and stubbed out his cigarette, thick fingers pushing it into the ashtray. He didn't seem to mind when ash collected on his fingers, opting to wipe them carelessly on his jeans. His other hand pushed gently at the brim of his hat, which he had declined to remove. "You're interesting."
"Interesting how?"
"Just are." He downed the remainder of his whiskey, pressing his lips together as he swallowed it. A nod to your almost-empty glass. "You want another?"
You mulled it over in your head for a moment-- it wasn't very strong, and you didn't feel drunk. But that was always the beginning of a messy night. You didn't want a messy night. Would he agree to do this again? "I don't know, I gotta drive home after this."
"Up to you. I can always give you a ride." Budd wasn't stupid. He knew the double meaning behind that, and a small part of him hoped you did too. Another part of him hoped you wouldn't think of him as just another pervert.
"I'm sure you can," you joked, completely understanding what he meant. He was relieved when you laughed it off. At least you had a sense of humour. "I'd better leave it. The last thing I want is to have a hangover while I'm serving drinks. You know?"
He nodded, hiding his disappointment well. You had a lot to say, it seemed, and he was interested to hear more from you. "Yeah, I get it."
You drank some more, feeling his eyes bore into your face and, after a long pause, spoke again. "Maybe we can do this another night."
"You don't want to do that, do you?"
You frowned slightly, contradicting the smile on your face. "I'd like to if you would. If not, I'll find some other sucker to drink with."
"No. I want to."
"Maybe on a day we don't have work the next day?" you suggested, just in case.
His brows perked up, and he stared at you wordlessly for a few moments. What does she mean by that? "Works for me. I, uh, I'm workin' Wednesday. Off Thursday."
You squinted one eye, thinking about your schedule, then gave a smile and a nod. "Yeah, me too. So... Wednesday? Same place?"
"You mean here again?"
"Yeah. If you don't have any objections."
...
"Okey-dokey."
