DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING BUT THE PLOT. ALL NAMES BELONG TO VINCE MCMAHON AND WWE.
Enjoy :)
"Alright pal"
The husky voice rose him from his catatonic state by forcing him to commit an act he seemed incapable of previously – blinking.
"One Gin and Tonic." The glass scraped against the wood bar top, as it moved closer into his line of sight.
Striking blue eyes glistened against the clear liquid set slightly ahead of his face. He felt the heaviness of his arm as it lifted to cup frail fingertips longingly around the circumference of the condensed beverage. "Thank you" Barely limped from his lips, before the cold drink encapsulated them in its dry hold.
A long sigh came from the bartender as his dark gaze drifted over to his left. Six empty glasses sat huddled together like a basketball team on time out. The sight made the bartender wince a bit in disapproval, before focusing his gaze on the man seated ahead of him. He watched as the platinum blond nursed the liquor in his grasp – staring into it with an indescribable sadness behind his eyes – before pointedly drinking away whatever wanted to surface as part of his expression.
The bartender took another deep breath, before leaning in closer to the blonde – forearm planted squarely on the surface of the bar top for support.
"Hey, buddy." He called gently – a far cry from his robust and stocky build. The man barely tilted his chin upwards, bringing mostly the blue of his eyes into view. "You got a ride home?"
At first, nothing but blankness looked back at the concerned bartender, only to be snuffed out by a snort. "Home" The blonde parroted with a weak smile strewn across his face. "I don't have one."
The bartender stared silently for a moment – allowing the man to drink back another mouthful of liquor to wash away the heaviness behind his words – and spoke again once the glass hit the counter top.
"You got work tomorrow though, right?" The blonde nodded sloppily – losing his equilibrium for a moment upon doing so. "It ain't no good drinking like this when work's tomorrow."
The crippled smile returned as a slow chuckle fled from his lips – kissing the rim of the nearby Gin & Tonic. "I just need fix my mind" His smile faltered a bit as his eyes began to well up with tears. "Cause my heart's beyond repair nowadays."
Low sobs soon escaped the man as he put the drink aside in favor of resting his face on his forearm. The bartender stared at him from behind thought-filled eyes. The bar was located in the downtown districts, so drunks like this blonde were as regular as the furniture. However, what was different was the way the blonde spoke. He sounded like a man free-falling from the edge of the proverbial cliff.
"Only one thing makes a guy cry like that" The bartender spoke kindly as he busied himself with wiping down the now wet counter top. "What did love do to you?"
The sobbing slowed as the blonde rose his head to look at the bartender. The larger man was standing, arms-crossed, with his gaze set directly on him. Worried about how sloppy he looked, the blonde quickly rubbed his face with the short sleeve of his blue polo shirt – staining it with God knows what – before dragging back loose snot down the back of his throat, and throwing back another shot of liquor.
"My girlfriend's cheating on me." The blonde spoke softly into his drink – downing another gulp, before placing the now empty glass heavily onto the counter top. "When I first met her, it was like" Blue eyes searched the bartender's face for the word, "it was like a spark. Instant chemistry." His weak smile returned once more. "Love at first sight."
"Sounds nice." The bartender rested his back against the clearer parts of the shelving. "What makes you think she's cheating?"
The question quickly stripped the blonde of his poorly constructed smile – dropping on his face a look of abysmal rejection and hurt. "Our relationship has to stay a secret, and because of that, people will come up to her looking for a date. And as much as I want to, I can't just go shouting 'She's mine!' or else she and I could lose our dream jobs." A stray thumb ran idly up and down the length of the choppy glass. "I just sit back and watch her talk to perfect strangers, smiling with the smile I fell for." He scoffed lightly, "Then I wait at home, hoping at the end of it all she'll still come back to me. And she does, and I get so stupidly happy that I don't notice the difference in her scent, or the marks on her body."
A heavy sigh caved from the bowels of the bartender. His large hand came up to the back of his head – scratching an imaginary itch on the back of his neck. "Sounds like a girl who ain't looking for commitment." The blonde scoffed weakly. "Look," The bartender rested his hand in his pants pocket. "Love makes people stupid to the point where they can't tell what's love and what's dependency. That's why, as hard as it may seem, you gotta be willing to acknowledge the red flags, and take the next necessary step."
The blonde looked to the bartender with a faint hint of desperation stuck behind his baby blues. "I can't leave her." His voice broke, "I love her so damn much… and it's so fucking painful, but I know I'll die if she's gone."
The larger man heaved a weighty breath. His eyes darkening the longer he looked at the pitiful blonde. "It seems that way, but think about this" His open palm sat away from his side as if to motion to the pile of empty glasses. "If she is cheating on you, and you forgive her because you can't let her go, then every day you look at her from that point on, you'll be reminded that there was a time in your life when she thought you were inadequate." The word visibly struck a harsh cord with the blonde, as his blue eyes popped open widely in reaction to the scenario. "Think about that without the Gin and Tonic. And afterwards, if you still want to be with her, then it's love and that's the kind of shit it'll bring ya."
Slowly, the blonde's expression shifted from shock to understanding, as he brought his head into a nod once he committed to the advice. "Thanks." He spoke in a whisper.
"Don't mention it." The bartender replied dryly, as he began to pack away the empty glasses. "But still, do you have a ride home?" The blonde nervously shook his head. "Alright. Where do you live."
"Apartment on 5th Street." He spoke unenthusiastically, "Little dump by the name of The Cove."
"Ah, I know that place." The bartender responded with a rough tone, "A good friend of mine goes past there. I can hook you up with a ride if you want."
"Um" The blonde spoke unsure of how to handle the offer. "T-That's okay, I'll just—"
"Don't mention it." Cut in coldly, stopping the blonde halfway through his sentence. "Look, he's right over there." The blonde followed where the bartender was pointing – finding his weary eyes on the seat behind him. In its cushiony hold sat a chestnut blonde, dressed in an 80s leather jacket set over a plain red T-Shirt, boot-cut Levi jeans, and tattered sneakers. "Dean!" The bartender called – successfully breaking the alarm that had gone off inside the blonde's head. "Yo Dean! Wake up!" The larger man barked loudly. When the lonesome Dean did not revive to the yelling, the bartender quickly tossed his towel at him. The dirty fabric hit Dean on the side of the face, and the feeling of harsh cleaners on his skin served to awaken the sleeping man.
"You fucker." He spat viciously while flinging the cloth to the ground. A harsh glare showed itself to the light of the bar, with blue eyes set beneath heavy lids – giving the dirty-blonde a droopy look. "I was in the middle of fucking Brad Pitt."
The platinum drunk sat at the bar immediately went red-faced to the statement gracing his ears. His wide blue eyes held nothing save shock in their gelatinous grip – an expression the sighing bartender easily deciphered upon seeing it.
"Did he—" The blonde started as he looked at the bartender.
"Yeah." The larger man responded.
"I-Is he—"
The larger man sighed exasperatedly. "Yeah." He looked sternly back at the stunned blonde. "Dean's gay but—"
"You don't have to worry about anything, Platinum Man." Dean interrupted crassly, bringing all eyes to him – finding that at some point the man had took to standing. "I don't do pitiful guys like you." The blonde flashed a glare to Dean, whose dead-pan expression failed to emit any reaction. "Are we going or not?"
The blonde looked on in shock, as his mind wrestled with how steady his body was to handle a fist fight – especially considering that he had seven Gin and Tonics coursing through his blood stream. Concluding the battle lost before it even began, the blonde sighed to his own predicament, before standing and setting to pay the bartender.
"How much do I owe?" He asked absentmindedly as he fumbled through the cash in his wallet.
"$42.50"
"Jeezsus!" Dean exclaimed as he walked up to the bar. The blonde next to him glared at him with a permanent frown. "You're too fucking expensive, you know that?" His eyes – now wild with a sort of brattish emotion – looked to the man standing beside him. "Don't pay this robber a cent. Liquor is basically water, and water is technically still free." Just as quickly, Dean returned his eyes to the bartender who had rolled his eyes as he begun to turn his own attention to packing the shelves. "Just put this shit on my tab."
"Guys who don't drink don't have a tab, Dean." The bartender spoke matter-of-factly. "Just take this kid home."
"Kid?" The blonde retorted with a small chuckle. "I'm flattered, but I'm the result of parents who got busy back in 1980, so…" He trailed, finding his eyes drawn to Dean – now stricken mute by the sight of Dean's intense stare.
"So you're what, 35…36?" The blonde nodded shortly in response. "So you're old." The word stopped the blonde dead in his tracks. His body tensed to retort, only to have Dean whisking his gaze away force back down any feeling of action he once had. "I guess you should be worried then." He spoke with a cheeky grin planted across his face. The sight did more than infuriate the platinum haired drinker. It also made him feel light-headed – almost as if he was entranced by the expression, and the danger behind Dean's words. "Let's get going. I've got work in the morning."
Without thought of the strangeness of the situation, the fact that in a few short minutes Dean had managed to piss him off twice, or even the fact that he had left the bartender with nothing for the drinks, the blonde willingly trailed behind Dean – small sparks of excitement flying through him as both men left the bar.
