What Happens Under the Mistletoe

Chapter 6: I Am Definitely Not Gay

David Woods was having a bad day. Well, what he considered bad; isn't exactly what you might. Here's an example, the day he's having today, December 22nd. Last night, he returned home from a 12 month deployment with the US Navy SEALS in Afghanistan. He saw his best friend in the whole world get blown up by a bomb, shot a man in the face at point blank range and witnessed so much more that he'll never forget.

He avoided seeing his dad, as they weren't exactly on the best of terms (the last time they met, David gave him a black eye and disowned him) so he went to his brother, Jake. Unfortunately for him, he found his younger brother slumped on the couch, a bag of white powder in his lap, high as a kite. David thought he'd cleaned Jake up, but obviously a year with Jake's driving force to stop using crack away in a warzone, he's obviously deteriorated.

So, instead David turns to his old friend, Mister Booze. He turns into the nearest bar, The Olympians and slumps down in one of the seats. He orders a pint of beer, which is served ice-cold, with a thin layer of froth on top, just the way he likes it. The rest of the night passes without interest, with him consuming around three glasses of beer, drinking his troubles away.

At around 10:30PM, after he's been at the bar for around three hours, a woman sit's down next to him. He glances at her out of the corner of his eye. She has caramel coloured hair, smelling faintly of cinnamon, and peach coloured skin. She was incredibly beautiful, and turned most of the male heads in the room. One man stood up, staggering, and slumps in the seat on the opposite side of the woman.

"Hey darling, looking kinda' lonely there aren't you." He slurs. She ignores him, and sips at her non-alcoholic cocktail. "Hey, lady, I'm talking to you." He say's, annoyance in his voice. She places her drink on the table, and turns to face him.

"My apologies, I don't often talk to drunken fools." She replies, a hidden venom in her words, spoken with a hint of a Mediterranean accent, David thinks.

"Don't talk to me like that lady; otherwise I'll smack some sense into you." The drunk stands up, trying to physically dominate the woman. That's when David stands up.

"You touch her; I'll be the one smacking sense into someone, that someone being you." He threatens angrily, balling up his fists in anger. No one, drunk or not, talks to women like that.

"Oh excuse me Captain America, but this is none of your business, so shove off and beat up some super villain." The drunk turns to him, his breath stinking of whiskey. He then turns to the woman again, leaning heavily against her. "So how 'bout a kiss for old Donnie then, eh? You know you want to." He whispers, in a failed husky voice. That's it, David thinks, I've had enough.

He walks over to the man, and grabs his shoulder roughly. The drunk turns around and swings a punch at David, but he instinctively grabs the arm with his free hand, and head buts him in the face. David hears a crack, a roar of pain, and feels hot blood spurt onto his face as the man's nose breaks. David then brings his head up, and smashes his fist against his jaw, sending him sprawling on the floor. The whole bar is shocked by this violence, and is immediately silent.

The man grabs a bottle from the table he was originally sitting at as he stands up, and smashes it, creating a sharp edge. His nose has clearly broken, and blood drips down from his chin, and the punch must have knocked a tooth or two out, either that or he has dental problems. "You think you're some kind of Navy SEAL, dumbass, 'cause I'll show you wrong."

"I don't think I am, I know I am. Lieutenant David Woods, Seal Team Seven, ready to kick your ass, fool." He replies, his voice confident and clear, filled with venom and anger. The drunk looks scared after that, but threw himself at David anyway. He sidesteps his clumsy charge and punches the man in the stomach; winding him and making him double over in pain. He then grabs the man by the back of his hair, and smashes his head down onto the table, knocking him unconscious. He slumps to the floor.

Now finished with the drunk, David turns to the woman again.

"Are you alright ma'am?" He asks, adrenalin still pumping from the fight, concern in his voice, alcohol slightly on his breath.

"Yes, thank you, for dealing with that jerk." She says the last word awkwardly, like she isn't used to saying it.

The conversation is interrupted by the sound of a revolver being cycled, behind David. He spins round, his right hand whipping out the Colt .45 handgun he carries with him at all times. The drunk is there, standing, holding a .36 revolver in one hand. He is miraculously conscious after a massive blow to the head; but he is swaying on his feet, and aims wildly.

"Well 'ain't you a Bruce Willis. But you aren't the only guy who can use a gun here." He slurs, a Mexican Standoff beginning to happen. But it is quickly interrupted by the sound of a shotgun being loaded. The barman stands, aiming at the drunk, the legendary Remington 870 shotgun in his hands.

"Out, now, before I get a finger spasm." He orders coldly. The drunk complies, and quickly runs outside, putting his revolver in his pocket as he goes. The barman then aims at David, who quickly drops his Colt, unloading it and ejecting the round from the chamber as he does so. "Sorry, I respect what you're doing man, but you need to go too. Bar policy, sorry son." He say's, sympathy clear in his voice. David picks up his gun, reloads it, and places it in his custom concealed holster. He nods a farewell to the woman, and steps out into the cold evening air.

He walks briskly down the street, watching the cars go by. As he stops to cross a road, he hears a familiar voice behind him. "Hey, wait for me, god's damn you walk so quickly." He turns around and sees the woman from the bar, smiling at him. He smiles awkwardly back, having not spoken to a female in over a year.

"Um, hi. How are you?" He says awkwardly. She smiles, revealing brilliant white teeth. The traffic light turns into a green man and they continue walking.

"Thank you, for back in the bar. It renewed my faith that there are heroes out there." She says, taking hold of his hand. He's surprised, but still replies

"Can I just say this now? I am not a hero. Shooting someone in the face, or beating up some random drunk doesn't make me brave or heroic in any way shape or form, okay?"

"Sorry, but what you just said then did sound very heroic. Reminded me of someone I once met." She replies with a smirk.

"Who?"

"It was a boy, who came out of nowhere, but needed help. He was very brave, and I fell for him. Hard. But I knew that at some point he had to go, and it broke my heart to see him leave. His name was Percy, and I don't think I'll ever forget him."

"Sorry to hear that, but I don't see a resemblance between us."

"Well, you look the same, your hair is a lot shorter, obviously because of the military, but you have the same eyes as him, and build." The conversation continues for quite some time, until they reached the woman's apartment.

"Well, it's been fun, David, nice to have met such a brave hero as you." She's been teasing him using this all night, but David smiles faintly, getting used to being called a hero is quite fun. She suddenly smashes her lips against his, pressing herself into him, wrapping her slender arms around his neck. He is too stunned to do anything at first, but he eventually kisses her back, clawing onto the doorframe to avoid them falling over. She eventually breaks off the kiss, to breath, and point to the mistletoe hanging above their heads.

"Goodnight, my hero, see you round." She smirks, and closes the door behind her. David stands their, shocked by her, well just her. He notices a sticky note pressed onto his palm, and reads it:

Calypso, 0798654209, call me, my hero xxx

He smiles, and says to himself,

"Well, I'm definitely not gay."

Fin

Authors note: Sorry about the wait for this one. Hopefully, if I can get off my Xbox, the final chapter will be on tomorrow ()! To all those requests that I haven't been able to do, fear not, I will try to fit them all in (Including Frazel!) but don't be too disappointed if I can't get them all in. Now, if I can't get off my Xbox in time, Merry Christmas to All, and to All A Good Night!

PS: Please can you look up my Fictionpress profile, to see my original story, The Death of Simon Grantsfield. I'll leave a link below. It would mean a lot to me, and as always, for the good of destitute demigods, please review (no flames) and favourite, but no more requests, as I won't be able to finish them all.

Bradykins Out

Link for Fictionpress profile: u/888494/Bradykins98