The Red Lantern

by kathhersit

Laurel Anderson works in the Red Lantern as a bartender, and one night she makes friends with a James Buchanan Barnes. She doesn't know who he is but she does know 2 things. One, he has some major skeletons in his closet, and two, the sparks between them are crazy. Too bad that where there's sparks there's smoke and fire, and it attracts friends and enemies.

1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1- THE RED LANTERN

There was an unusual amount of people in the bar tonight. The cheap red lanterns that were placed on every table and hanging randomly from the ceiling gave the bar a dim, mysterious look and the cigarette smoke only added to the aura. In the corner, a battered old jukebox blared something by an 80's hair band and there were a few couples dancing around in the corner. The high wooden bar was surrounded by stools that were covered in cracked red vinyl. The laughter and chatter ebbed and flowed at a level that bordered on overwhelming, but that wasn't unusual for a Friday night like this.

To a first-time visitor, a bar like this might have held some sort of magic to it. But for Laurel, the magic was long gone. She cracked her neck tried to massage some of the tension out of her shoulders, before turning back to the row of patrons ready for her to take their order. Her faded gray Converse that were at least 4 years old painfully reminded her that she had been working for 6 hours already every time she moved her feet.

"Laurel, can you take my order?" a familiar gruff voice came from her left. She glanced over and rolled her eyes, a small smile forming on her lips. "Dave, I will get to your order when I can. You know my rules. I serve the mixed drinks first and you always get a beer. So wait." Dave chuckled good naturedly and raised his hands in surrender. If her boss, Richard, ever heard her say that to any customer he might keel over on the spot, but Dave was a regular so he knew she wasn't kidding around. She made sure that everyone she served knew how serious she was about the rules she set for herself. After 3 years of working almost constantly at the Red Lantern, she was fairly well known and her rules were too.

Brushing a blonde ringlet out of her face absently, she turned to the old man in front of her and smiled tiredly. "What can I get you?" The man looked at her from underneath scraggly eyebrows with eyes that made her cringe and leaned over the bar, giving her a whiff of the cheap overwhelming cologne. "How about a night with your body my dear?" He winked lewdly and Laurel snorted. "All right buddy, that was strike one. I give everyone three chances, because I'm a nice person. You might not want to figure out what happens when you hit strike three." The other patrons all jeered at the man, who flushed angrily and then smirked at Laurel and turned away. Laurel rolled her eyes, and pulling up jeans that were far too big for her, continued to serve drinks to the increasingly raucous crowd. She didn't dress to attract when she was working, or ever for that matter, and tonight was no exception. Both the jeans she was wearing and the black v-neck were found in the men's section of the thrift store. It was always funny when guys complimented her outfit, because most of the guys that hit on her were horny or desperate for a discount on drinks.

The jukebox was still cranking out old 80's music, even though it was almost drowned out by the drunken singing, and that was a sign that the night was starting to wrap up. There were less people ordering, so Laurel took a plastic bus tub from under the counter and started picking up what seemed like hundreds of mugs and glasses from the tables. She was reaching over a table to grab the last beer mug when she felt a sharp pinch on her ass. She spun around and there standing far too close to her was the creep from earlier. He winked at her and she scowled, the hand that wasn't holding the bus tub clenching so tightly that her fingernails pierced the skin on her palms.

"That was strike two asshole. Try me again and see what happens." He made a move towards her and she spun around and returned to bar, breathing deeply through her nose in an attempt to calm down. Richard had already had some complaints about her threatening the customers, so she was trying to keep her temper in check. Surveying the bar, Laurel mentally calculated how much time it would take for her to clean up. There were less people now and the jukebox had changed from an 80's hair band to a sad country ballad.

A few people were crowding the stools, and a couple was heavily making out in the back booth. There was a lone figure at one of the tables, with a singular glass sitting in front of it. The shoulders were tense and powerful looking. There was a dark jacket covering the shoulders and a baseball hat pulled down low. Laurel hadn't noticed the person come in or when they had ordered, but when it got especially hectic Laurel had a tendency to blur people together and just pour what they wanted then immediately forgetting what they looked like. She pursed her lips together, and after checking her battered black leather watch, reached under the bar and pulled out a sign saying that the bar was closed for the night. It closed every night at 2 am, and gave her a chance to clean the bar before last call. The bottles needed to be restocked and reorganized, and there were so many peanut shells on the floor it was starting to look light brown.

She was wiping down the front of the bar with a rag that probably wasn't much cleaner than the bar when she felt someone's hot breath on her neck. "Hey sweetheart, miss me?" The creep from before smelled like his cheap cologne and the unpleasant addition of beer. Laurel shivered inwardly, but maintained her composure. "No, I can't say that I did. Now please back up." She tried to move away, but his hands clamped around her waist and pulled her backwards. "All right you fucker. That was strike three." She slammed her elbow back into his stomach and when he recoiled, stomped on his foot until he let go of her completely. He stumbled backward, then righted himself and snarled, starting towards her with a twisted scowl on his face. He swung wildly, and Laurel dodged it easily, letting him stagger past her. She smirked and turned, but was blindsided by a bottle that came flying towards her head. She stuck her arm in front of her face and snarled when the bottle shattered on her arm. She could feel the warm blood drip down her arm and she was getting lightheaded.

She wiped off her face, ignoring the smeared blood and watched the creep come towards her again. Rather than use her previous tactic of dodging, she just wound up with her injured arm and struck him directly in the nose. He staggered backwards and Laurel used her other arm to punch him in the eye. He collapsed on the ground and she stood, breathing heavily and trying to ignore the throbbing pain that was taking over her body. Richard wouldn't be very happy with her. She grabbed the limp body and gritting her teeth, tried to lift him. Laurel got his head and shoulders off of the ground, but it was no use, so she let him fall back with a thud. She looked around the bar and noted the sudden lack of almost all people. The only person left was the lone figure, who was standing and staring intently. Laurel scratched her the back of her neck awkwardly. "You should probably go home." The figure jumped, like they hadn't had anyone talk to they in a long time. "You're bleeding," his voice was hoarse and deep and sent shivers down her spine. Laurel looked down at her arm, "Huh, look at that." Then a wave of lightheadedness swept over her and she slid ungracefully to the floor. The figure strode over to her and the last thing she remembered was a pair of steel blue eyes that she wouldn't ever forget.

This is my first story on FanFiction, so any tips would be so helpful! If you liked it, review and vote! Thank you!

kath