You were having a terrible day. Well, maybe more accurately, days plural. You were up for a promotion at work, you were currently an editor at an online news website, but your so called "in the bag" promotion your boss had promised was instead handed to some new guy they hired. You were bitter because you gave this job 3 whole years of your life and this was the thanks you got.
Another thing, your boyfriend of a year dumped you a couple of weeks ago because he got a job offer overseas and didn't think you'd want to go with him, not that he asked. He also didn't want to do a long distance relationship because he just wasn't feeling it. So now he's dead to you.
The list of tiny annoying day to day things just kept piling on your shoulders. Like someone taking your coffee order and having to pay for a new coffee because the barista didn't believe you. Having your cab taken 4 separate times by 4 different people. Being sent an email by your boss asking why you weren't in a meeting that you clearly were and participated in. Having your lunch being stolen from fridge in the break room and never getting your lunch bag back. Having to buy a new lunch bag.
With everything piling up things just became too much. That's why you texted your best friend, Natasha Romanoff, to meet up for some drink at a bar near your apartment. She agreed and you headed out to make your way there. Your sour mood prompted you to walk and the fact that the bar you were heading to, The Milano, was only a couple blocks away.
You made it to the bar and headed in. It was a friday night so you were a little surprised to see that the place wasn't too terribly packed. Though you had to admit this place was a little run down and the people that were there looked a little sketchy. This is New York after all so who were you to judge.
You headed up to the bar and took a seat at it. You pulled out your phone while you waited for the bartender to finish up the customer he was already with and to check and see if Natasha had sent you an update.
She had.
Not a good one.
Work called have to bail. I'm so sorry you know I'd be there if it weren't important. xx
Frowning at your phone you hadn't realized the bartender approached you or that he was talking to you.
"Hello?" he whistled waving his hand slightly in front of you, "you're not deaf are you? Cause if you are then you're totally making me feel like an asshole right now."
"Huh?" snapping out of the pity party going on in your head you looked up at the bartender. He was a tall, well built man with dark blonde hair and green eye. He looked stupidly handsome and you couldn't help but stare. He tossed the towel in his hands over his shoulder as he raised an eyebrow at you. You coughed wishing you could sink into the floor and disappear out of embarrassment, "Sorry?"
"What can I get ya?" He repeated with a kind but snarky smile. He totally noticed you gawking at him that asshole.
Well Nat left you hanging but you were already here so why not, "Whisky neat cheapest you got."
With a bit of flare he tossed your glass into the air catching beforing setting it on the counter to pour your drink, "Here you are," He slides the glass over to you with a charming smile, "enjoy."
Show off.
You gave him a pressed smile and lifted the glass in thanks as he went to take care of a new customer. Taking a sip you looked down at your phone unlocking it to Natasha message.
No worries. Call me when you can. xx
You sent her a quick reply just so she knew you weren't mad, disappointed sure but not mad, you knew how seriously she took her work. You wish you felt the same honestly, but this past week at work had you reconsidering what you actually wanted from your job. Sure it paid well enough and you had been there long enough to be on the company's insurance plan, but that was about it. You landed that editing job straight out of college and you were so proud of that for so long. Maybe your pride had hidden what you really wanted to achieve.
"So what's your story?"
Pulled from your thoughts you tighten your grip on your phone and looked up to see the bartender had made his way back towards your end of the bar where you sat alone.
"Excuse me?" You asked confused.
"What's your story?" He asks again, "What brings someone like you to The Milano alone on a friday night?"
"I'm sorry, someone like me?"
"No offense ma'am but you don't exactly fit the demographic of this bar," he shrugged as you both took a glance around at the other patrons of the establishment. You found he was not wrong. Most of the people looked like they were criminals. Covered in scars and tattoos with permanent scowls on their faces.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Taking another sip of your drink, "I think I fit in perfectly here."
He snorted, "Right. I guess you are just as brooding as the rest of these chumps."
"What is that supposed to mean?" you scoffed offended.
"Walking in here with a look on your face that says "I'm thinking about murder" and sitting all by yourself nursing a whisky," He explains then nods to himself, "No you're absolutely right you fit right in."
"Huh," you breathed loosening your phone from your grip and set it down next to your glass. You processed his words for a moment, it makes you wonder if he was checking you out when you first arrived, looking up at him he seemed to be doing that. His head slightly tilted and eyes slightly darkened as his eyes traced your face. Biting your lip you asked, "I really look like I'm thinking about murder?"
"You telling me you're not?"
"No, but to be fair I have been tossing around the idea of some light arson so that could be what you're picking up."
"Arson?" His eyebrow cocked up intrigued, "alright now you've got my attention. Let's hear all about this."
You snorted as if you hadn't already had his attention, "You really want to stand here and talk to me?"
"Well if I'm being honest this place is a little slow tonight and unless a bachelorette party comes stumbling through those doors you're the most interesting person I can be talking to right now," He explains.
You laughed and shook your head, "Dunno, that guy seems pretty interesting," You nodded your head to only other guy actually sitting all the way at the other end of the bar. He was hunched over in his seat picking at the label on his beer as he intensely read the subtitles of the movie playing on one of the tv on the wall, "maybe you should find out what his story is."
"Nah that's just Kraglin I've known him forever," He explained playing with the towel in his hand, "You however mentioned arson and I would like to hear all about it. What do you want to set on fire the most?"
Rolling your eyes you decided to play along, "Do I have to pick just one thing?"
He gasped, "A serial arsonist. This just keeps getting better. Let's start with the one thing you want to burn the most. Like if you could set this fire right now what would it be?"
"Okay," you let out a long breath and thought it over. What to burn first, "Probably my bosses office - wait no, my ex."
"Work trouble and love trouble? That's a nasty duo."
"Yeah well my boyfriend dumped me for a job overseas. He's going to be some regional manager for whatever doing whatever in Turkey. He didn't want me to move with him so he just ended things," you explained bitterly.
"How long were you guys together?"
"Little over a year."
"Geeze," He hisses in sympathy, "Did you guys even talk about it?"
"Nope," you said popping the p, "He just decided for me that I wasn't going to move with him."
"Would you?"
"If he asked me?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah I think I would have. We were together for so long I thought we were good. If he asked me I probably wouldn't have given it a second thought," you answered hating yourself slightly for all the time wasted on him.
"What about if he walked into this bar right now and asked you?" He asked.
"I'd kick him straight in the nuts," you immediately answered.
"I don't think I like how quick that response was," He grimaced, "Yikes. Now what about your boss?"
"Well," you sighed, "I usually don't have any issues at work but recently I was up for a promotion and he told me that the job was basically mine they just had to do other interviews so that the higher ups didn't think it was favoritism or whatever."
"What do you do?"
"I'm an editor for an online news outlet. Been there for like 3 years now."
He nodded and let you continue.
"So they had a couple of interviews and decided to give the job to one of those guys and not me. I asked my boss why and he said that this guy was much more qualified for the position and he figured I wouldn't care so much anyways," you finished feeling the same bitterness that you felt when you had left your bosses office after being turned down from the promotion.
"That's shitty," He sighed, "What a dick man."
"Tell me about it," you rolled your eyes taking a drink.
"Ay Pete, hand me another beer would ya," Kraglin from the other end of the bar interrupted waving his now empty bottle toward the bartender, Pete you guess.
"So that's what brought you here?" He asked cracking a fresh beer open and sliding it down the bar towards Kraglin not breaking the flow of his conversation with you, "A deadbeat ex and a shithead employer?"
"I was actually meeting up with a friend," you explained watching Kraglin nearly tip over the new beer over but saving it last minute, "but she canceled last minute because of work."
"You want to set her office on fire too?" Pete asked preparing himself for another story.
You chuckled, "No, god no. She's a detective usually when she gets called in like this there is usually a dead guy."
"Oh," he paused, "well shit. Better be careful with all this crime you're about to commit. Don't worry I wont tell."
"Gee thanks stranger," you teased causing him to laugh.
"It's Peter actually. Peter Quill owner of this fine establishment," He declared gesturing around the bar.
"Fine establishment?" You questioned, "Weren't you the one saying this place was running slow on a friday night?"
"What is that supposed to mean?" Peter gasped in mock offense, "Is the not New York, the city that always sleeps?"
"Not sure that's how it goes Pete," You shook your head sympathetically.
"Pretty sure that's exactly how it goes."
"Whatever you say man. I'm (Y/N) by the way. (Y/N) (Y/L/N)," you smiled, "Now you've got a name to give the cops when you go to snitch on me."
"Okay first of all, I would never snitch. Have you seen the people in this bar? They would eat me alive if I was some kind of snitch. Secondly, I am one hundred percent sure that's a fake name now, but I'll call you (Y/N) anyways," dramatically he put air quotes around your name when he spoke.
"Anyone ever tell you that you're dramatic as hell Pete?" You asked with a smile.
"No not even once," he frowned, "alright maybe a couple of times, but that's not the point."
"And what's the point?"
"I feel for you man," He said sincerely, "getting dumped fucking sucks and then not getting a dream job on top of that? It's rough."
"Well I wouldn't call it a dream job," you said thinking it over, "Just a different job. Rising through the ranks. Getting better pay. Got any pretzels?"
"What's your dream job then?" He asked reached over for a bowl of pretzels on the bar handing them to you.
You thought over his question for a minute while snacking on a pretzel. What was your dream job? You were an english major for a reason, because your passion growing up was writing. You used to write all the time what happened? This job that's what happened.
You sighed knowing exactly what your dream job was but also knowing that it's nearly impossible to get where you want to be.
"(Y/N)? Did I lose you?" Peter questioned and you looked up to meet his gaze.
"Sorry, no, just thinking it over," you apologized.
"And?"
"What?"
He sighed exasperated, "what's the dream job haunting your dreams?"
You rolled your eyes, "I guess I've always wanted to be a writer. And not some shitty news writer. Like my own stories. Put my own thoughts and opinions on paper and see who picks it up you know?"
"So what's stopping you?" Peter blinks watching your face carefully.
Squirming under his gaze you suddenly felt the pressure, "Me I guess. I don't know where to start or if I'm any good. I'm just paralyzed by my own fear of failure and it makes me want to stay where I am and just blend in for the rest of my life. Always having opportunities placed in front of me but never getting to experience them."
"That is a load of bullshit," he scoffed.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. I think that is all a bunch of bullshit," He repeated a little harshly.
"And what gives you the right to say that? You barely even know me!" you jumped feeling overwhelmed by his confrontation.
"Sure I do your ex is a douche, your best friend is a cop and your name is probably not (Y/N)," He shrugged, "That's pretty much everything."
Baffled you shook your head, "I don't really think it is."
"Well," He started placing his hands on the edge of the bar leaning forward, "It's plenty enough for me to know that you're going to be miserable if you keep doing what you're doing because guess what, you already are."
"I'm not miserable," You interrupted, "I'm just having a bad week!"
"Who is the bartender here and who is the girl drinking by herself?"
You refused to answer.
Smugly he continued, "This is my job honey, I know people, even when they don't want me to. And right now I know that you are stuck not because you're afraid of failing. You're afraid of wasting your time and you wont accept that you already have. You wasted a year with some dickwad who didn't care enough to get your opinion on your relationship together. You've wasted your time working for some assholes that don't recognize your desire to achieve more. It's time to pull your head out of your ass and take something that you want."
You hated it. You hated every single word that left his mouth. You hated the way he said it. You hated how it sounded. Mostly you hated that it was all true.
"What the fuck dude?" You huffed feeling out of breath for him. Peter was proving to be extremely long winded.
"Am I wrong?"
"Well no, obviously, but can't you just let a girl wallow in self pity for an evening?" you question, "Geeze."
He rolled his eyes standing up straight again, "You're way too pretty for that sweetheart."
"Great. Good to know. Next time I just want to drink and feel sad I'll just stay at home then," you nodded to yourself looking at the remainder of your drink in your glass.
"Sorry didn't mean to overstep my boundaries, "He sighed, "but this bar is my life, even though some of us here are unimpressed by that," he shot you a cocky wink, "and if someone hadn't told me to get my head out of my ass and do something I love then we wouldn't be here today."
"And who was that?"
"Well my mom always told me to do what I love but after she passed away it was my foster dad that was always telling me to get my head out of my ass," He explained.
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"Not it was for good reason," He said, "I was a shithead."
You scoffed and rolled your eyes "was", "I meant about your mom passing. I'm sorry to hear that. My mom passed away too when I was younger."
His lips pressed into a line and he nodded looking at the surface of the bar, "It sucks."
You nodded in agreement settling into a silence. Loss was something you both seemed all too familiar with. You had noticed that he had said foster dad and not his dad but you didn't want to bring up two intrusive topics in a row. Things felt a little too personal and that's saying a lot seeing as you just told a random stranger all your most recent problems. It's clearly something he's used to him being a bartender and all. People must come in here and bare their souls to him all the time.
The sound of your cell phone buzzing made both of you jump. You picked it up to see Natasha picture flashing across the screen. A wave of confusion and mild panic hit you.
"Sorry hang on," you told Peter and answered her call never knowing when it could be an emergency, "hey what's up?"
Through the phone all you hear is her aggravated sigh, "Just got finished dealing with a bunch of teenagers who thought it would be funny to prank call some detectives about fake homicide. They didn't even use burners to hide their identities or anything but were oh so shocked that they got caught."
"That awful. What's going to happen to those kids?" you asked biting your lip listening to your friend.
"Don't know probably community service. I've been dealing with hysterical parents for the last hour. They've got court dates and the judge will decide the rest," she sighed through the phone, "In the meantime I am free again and really want some extra cheesy pizza from Romeo's, want to come over and yell at each other?"
"Wow," you replied, "you really know a way to girls heart don't you."
"What can I say? I'm a gifted individual now come on over and I can show you more of my talents," She teased.
"You gotta stop it with the dirty talk babe I'm in public," you said causing Peter to laugh.
"Where are you?" Natasha dropped the teasing tone instantly curious, "Is that a guy?"
"The Milano," you chose to only answer her first question.
"Seriously? You still went?"
"I was already here when you bailed," you explained, "figured I'm already out might as well get what I came for."
"Is that place any good? I know we've been meaning to check it out and tonight would have been that night if not for, you know, teenagers," the bitterness of her tone did not go unnoticed.
"Eh, it's alright," your unimpressed tone was purely for Peter listening to just one side of this conversation, "It's kind of dirty but they've got pretzels."
You grinned as you earned a glare from Peter.
"Hot guy I hear ya," Natasha murmured understanding the context of a situation she wasn't even a part of, "tell me scale of one to ten where is he?"
"Eh, maybe like a three," you replied loving the baffled looks you were getting from Peter seeing as he thought you were still talking about his bar.
"Shit really?" reading way more into your reply than you had intended, "look if you need to bail in order to get some I will not blame you."
"Nah it's not like that."
"Oh really?" she questioned, "or are you just saying that because he's standing right in front of you and you too scared to admit you want to jump on him and ride him till sunrise?"
If not for the little bit of alcohol in your system you would probably turn beat red hearing your friend say this while you stare directly at the man in question. You bit your lip considering it, "No I'm pretty sure it's just because you enticed me pizza and now I'm going to hold you to that."
Natasha laughed, "Alright I'll order it now see you in a bit."
"See you," you smiled and hung up the phone.
"Someone have a hot date?" Peter asked sounding slightly disappointed.
"Yeah sorry to leave you like this," you grabbed your wallet out of your purse only to look up and see his pout, "really? Pouting? Is that how you get all of your regulars?"
"It worked on Kraglin," He shrugged dropping the pout.
"Sorry I'm just not that kind of girl," you took out some cash and paid for your drink, "the only way to keep me around is food and sorry but pizza trumps pretzels."
He gasped in fake disbelief.
"I know. I'm sorry but I make the rules and that's just how this one goes," you shrugged and got out of you seat. For the first time all week you finally felt yourself settle into a good mood. It made you feel lighter. You smiled up at Peter, "Thanks for the talk. I really needed it."
"Anytime," He smiled softly, "You'll know where I'll be."
With that you left and headed toward Natasha place anxiously anticipating some pizza.