It wasn't really that my day had been very long or hard, and it wasn't that I felt I needed or deserved a drink, it was simply something that crossed my mind as I was driving home. So instead of returning to my small apartment on the other side of town, I stopped at the local bar for a few drinks. At first I was slightly nervous, walking into a bar for the first time in a long while by myself, but for whatever reason, I felt the urge to push myself out of my comfort zone. I'd never been in this particular bar, in fact I don't know if I'd ever really noticed it's existence before tonight and it certainly wasn't anything to write home about, but there was a comfortable, well-worn feel to the place. The place was fairly well attended considering it was a Wednesday night -though thankfully not crowded- and I found a spot at the bar in good view of a TV airing the most recent basketball game. I was greeted by a husky looking man tending the bar.
"What can I get ya?" He asked in a rough voice, his eyes slightly squinting at me as if he were trying to remember if he had seen me in here before or not.
"A long island, thanks," I replied with the first thing that came to mind. He simply nodded and went back down the line.
I took the chance to look around at the place. The floors were dark wood, worn down in places to the point where you could see beneath the stain and top-coating of lacquer. The kick board around the bar was equally scuffed, along with most of the wood furniture and tables. The counter I sat at was also wood, but it appeared to have been taking care of more carefully then the floors; a fact which I appreciated. Booths with worn red cushions lined the dark walls, and tables with chairs took up the rest of the feasible space on one side of the bar, while the other side hosted two pool tables and a dart board, all with just enough space to maneuver in.
The bartender put down a napkin and placed my drink on it without a word, simply glancing at me again with squinted eyes, and moved to another customer that had just come from playing pool to sit at the bar.
I took a long drink, enjoying the cold taste. It was definitely one of those hot, midsummer nights, and even though the two ceiling fans spun with all their might, they just couldn't quite cut through all of the heat. I started to notice a rising of agitated voices coming from down at the other end of the bar. An older man in a disheveled, all-black suit was heavily leaning on the counter pointing his finger down at the numerous empty and toppled shot glasses in front of him. He was speaking with an English accent in a rather agitated tone to the bartender, who stood back with his big arms crossed and a stoney frown on his face. From what I could hear it sounded like the man was complaining about the speed of service. The bartender cleared the glasses and poured the man a double shot, which seemed to appease him. I chuckled to myself. The man looked almost as out of place in this bar as I did, and being fall-down drunk wasn't helping him much. It was almost absurd how much the scene reminded me of TV shows I had watched: the belligerent drunk at a dive bar, that really isn't something you see as often as TV would have you believe.
The excitement died down and I resumed watching the sports game and drinking. It was when I was finishing my drink and starting to consider ordering another that I heard more commotion from down the bar. Angrier this time. The man was now arguing with the bartender, who had clearly just cut him off. His voice rang over the hubbub of the bar as he yelled something about making sure he would personally escort the bartenders soul to hell. Two new men walked up to the drunk, both in suits and both seeming to come out of nowhere. They leaned in and said something to him, looking around nervously.
"Piss off!" He said, throwing his hand out dismissively, "It's not your job to baby sit me, don't you have other business to be handling?" his tone was bitterly agitated, and the two men looked at each other before shrinking away from him.
Now alone and officially cut off, he got up from his bar stool and started making his way down the bar in what I assumed was the direction of the bathroom. I averted my gaze so I wasn't caught starring, but I couldn't help looking again when I heard him stumble into a chair, and as soon as he looked up he caught my eyes. Instantly my brain scrambled to cover up the mistake of getting caught, and I said the first thing to come to my mind.
"Would you like a hand?" He looked at me with an odd, almost puzzled expression.
"Do I look like I need help?" His words were harsh but his tone of voice almost sounded as he were asking an honest question.
"There's no harm in accepting," I shrugged. I had probably made a really dumb mistake saying anything, he seemed like a man who was better left alone. But as I was turning away he stumbled over and sat by me, beginning to speak.
"Oh, let me tell you about the harm in accepting help!" I watched him get onto the stool, though he no longer made eye contact with me, and suddenly felt uncomfortably close to someone I didn't know and who reeked of expensive alcohol. I noticed the bartender keeping a close eye on the man from down the bar, which made me feel better. The man beside me continued, "Let me tell you about so called friends. They help you out once or twice, you think you've got a mutual agreement going, and then soon as the whether changes, they tie you to a chair and torture you. In the name of research! They think they're doing something good for you, but it only makes things worse!" He practically growled the last few words. I had no idea what he could be talking about, but it seemed very personal for him, so I simply replied, "I can't say I know the feeling."
He chuffed, "Lucky you," and then trailed off into silence, staring straight forward, lost in thought or completely zoning out, I couldn't tell which. The bartender came over as I finished my drink.
"He giving you any trouble?" he asked glaring at the drunk man beside me, as if asking for a reason to kick him out for good.
"No, he isn't," I glanced over to see he had come out of his reverie to stare daggers at the gruff man.
"Will you be having another?" The bartender said referring to my drink.
"Oh, no I think I'm done for the night." I replied as I immediately decided I had gotten my fill of spur-of-the-moment adventures to shady bars for the night, or rather, the whole week. I reached into my purse to get my money, but the man stopped me.
"Put it on my bill," he slurred forcefully. I looked at the bartender who just kind of shrugged as if it made no difference who was paying, so I assumed there wouldn't be an issue of the stranger not being able to pay.
"Thanks, that's nice of you," I accepted, though it felt odd that he was doing that for me. Appeased, the bartender took away my glass and I got up to leave. I walked out of the bar awkwardly, I didn't really know what the right social etiquette was for a situation like that. Was I supposed to stay and talk with him since he bought my drink? Was he looking for something in exchange, or was it just an offhanded gesture of courtesy? I got to my car and fumbled for my keys, realizing I was still a little drunk. I was fairly small, and I didn't have much of an alcohol tolerance.
"I didn't scare you off, did I?" a voice from right behind me spoke. I spun around to see the English stranger standing there, though I hadn't heard a single footstep. My heart had nearly jumped out of my throat until I saw him wobble a little bit on his feet and I assured myself he was hardly a threat.
"No," I breathed out an involuntary sigh of relief, "I've got work tomorrow, so y'know, can't stay out very late." I don't know why I felt the need to explain myself, but I felt being honest was warranted.
"I see," he said, looking slightly self conscious now, and without another word, turned and began to walk away. Unfortunately for him, the rocky parking lot and his unsteady legs were not his friends at that moment, and he stumbled forward roughly hitting the ground with one knee but catching himself with his hands before he could intimately meet the earth.
"Christ, are you alright?" I rushed forward as a reflex and put my hand on his shoulder.
"It's Crowley!" He shrugged my hand off and stood up as quickly as he could without sacrificing any more of his dignity. It was obvious that he was only barely standing, and probably wouldn't make it to wherever he lived before passing out along the road somewhere.
"Well, Crowley, it's not often I get such a formal introduction from someone," I stated dryly with a spur of the moment boldness which I'm sure was partially due to the alcohol in my system. "Let me drive you home," I offered, since it didn't seem like anyone else was around or willing to do it.
"I don't need your help or your pity," He tried to straighten up, but only succeeded in stumbling close enough to a car to put his hand on it for balance. He swore under his breath, mumbling something about being a lightweight human.
I could have left right then, drive away without any guilt or regret, he was a grown man who could deal with his own life decisions. He wasn't my responsibility, and he certainly wasn't my friend, I was under no obligation to look after his sorry ass. But that same urge that brought me to this bar in the first place drove me forward. I grabbed his arm and forcibly put it over my shoulders before leading him to my car. He tried to protest, but he was easy enough to move. I got my keys out and opened the passenger side door and pushed him as gently as I could down into the seat before closing the door and getting in on the other side.
"Now, where do you live?" I asked, and he named a high-end hotel that I knew was fairly close by. The drive wasn't long, but my passenger didn't say a word. When I got to the hotel I pulled around back to park and got out to open his door. Crowley slumped halfway out of the open door and I realized he had passed out during the short drive. I sighed in annoyance, but I was going to see this through to the end.
"Hey... hey, wake up," I shook his shoulder, rousing him a little, "I've gotta get you inside, where's your hotel key?" He ruffled around in his pockets with bleary, half open eyes, and produced the card, handing it to me. I took his arm over my shoulders again and hauled him into the hotel. He was definitely heavier now, and as he lost more of his strength it became harder for me to move him. His room key said 429, so I called the elevator and went up to the fourth floor, letting him lean on the elevator railing while I waited. As we reached the floor I grabbed him again, most of his weight was entirely on me now and I was huffing to keep him upright. The elevator doors opened and an unsuspecting older lady came in, meeting us both with a shocked and, frankly, offended stare. I simply shrugged with a sheepish smile and got off as quickly as I could. I found the room and burst in, my arms and legs weren't going to support the both of us much longer.
The room was a total mess, papers and bottles and clothes were strewn all over, and I had to pick my way carefully through the minefield for risk or getting tripped up on anything. I finally got to the bed and let him fall down onto it. He let out a sort of groan as he curled the rest of his body up onto the bed. He looked strangely small on the edge of this luxuriously large bed. I found myself looking around the room, a little shocked at how nice it was. The cream colored walls with their faux-gold trimming gave the room a nice warmth, and the blood red upholstery tied the whole old-timey-wealth look together. I honestly hadn't even known there was such a nice hotel around here. I looked back down at the man I had just hauled up to his own hotel room, suddenly being able to really take in his features up close for the first time. He looked like he could have been fifteen or maybe even twenty years older then me, but he had handsome features. His hair was dark, as well as the stubble along his jaw, which was also peppered with a bit of gray. He looked stern, or maybe troubled, even in sleep he wore a frown on his face. I realized I was staring at a stranger sleeping, and suddenly I felt like I was intruding somewhere I had no business being, so I went back to my car and drove home.
I was more then ready to continue on with my life as if tonight hadn't happened.