Prompt from allyhope: At a bar and Clay is a target of homophobic abuse. Clay wants to ignore it but the guys stand up for him (can include Full Metal, love that guy).
645 words of Bravo bonding in the most satisfying of ways.
Written for my Summer Prompt Challenge 2019 on Ao3.
Winged
"Alright!" Full Metal slapped the table and the pointed across at Clay, "Your round, Spenser." Clay rolled his eyes, but stood to the sound of Trent and Sonny cackling.
"I still think I Never is suppose to be a slumber party game, not a bar game!" Clay called over his shoulder. A chorus of drunken laughter followed after him. Clay slouched against the bar, waiting for the bartender.
"Back again I see," the bartender, Lance came up to him with a stunning smile and a jaw like Michelangelo's David. "You've either lived a very boring life or your friends have done some weird shit."
Clay shrugged, rested in forearms one the table as he ducked his head. "Maybe I just need an excuse to keep coming back to see you." Lance blushed, but his smile grew so Clay was pretty certain he was shooting straight.
A man beside him jostled him as he got up, muttering under his breath. Lance tensed, straightening, "Five beers and five whiskeys right?"
"Yeah," Clay stood up, cleared his throat. Lance nodded his head and avoided eye contact. Clay returned to the table with the beers between his finger, "Whiskey on its way."
Sonny took his beer with a grin and a tip of his hat, "You get the bartender's number yet?" The table all looked at him expectantly.
"Nah," Clay shrugged his shoulders, plopped back into his seat, "Got kinda awkward." Brock's arms went wide, expectant, "Dude at the bar, no big deal."
Trent paused, midsip, "What wasn't a big deal?" Clay shook his head. Both Sonny and Full Metal set their beers back on the table.
"I could always go ask the bartender," Brock said with a smirk and a raised eye brow. Clay rolled his eyes.
"Just said something under his breath, Lance was uncomfortable, so I backed off." Clay explained in entirely too few details that the rest of the table extrapolated on with ease.
Sonny's face soured, his brow pinched. He looked around the bar and stood. Clay's eyes went wide, "Sonny, no!"
"Sonny, yes." Full Metal stood with a grin, bumped Sonny's shoulder, "I call first punch."
"Dibs is for front seats and flirting," Sonny clapped him on the shoulder and they both sauntered off to the pool table. It wasn't hard to pick out a bigot in a bar, especially if you were watching Clay like an overprotective mama bear the whole night.
Not that Sonny would claim such a thing. He'd just shrugged when Trent accused him of it.
Brock tasked himself with keeping Clay in his seat while Sonny and Full Metal confronted a burly man in a shirt two sizes too small. Trent had taken up a flanking position, silent and smirking.
"Your drinks," the waitress set the tray on the table. She didn't bat an eye at the brawl going on as she moved the whiskey glasses onto the table. Neither did the bouncer.
Whatever friends the man had, they hadn't wanted to die atop this particular hill. Least not at the hands of three SEALs. The fight didn't last long and very swiftly the bouncer escorted the man out as Sonny led his men back to the table.
"That was kind of overkill," Clay whined, head in his hands.
Brock snorted, "Talk shit, get hit. That's the rule." There was a chorus of agreement and Clay smiled.
"I'll drink to that," Sonny raised his whiskey and the rest of them followed suit. The waitress returned a moment later, with refills and the receipt for Clay. Lance had written his phone number on the back.
"He's off at 2 tonight," the waitress winked at him. Another round of cackling enveloped the table as Clay blushed.
"Never have I ever been such a successful wingman before." Full Metal grinned wide and toothy. The whole table, sans Clay, took a drink.
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