A/N: This chapter was a lot of fun to write.

Brawl

He absolutely could not believe he sent that to Melinda May.

It was the whiskey. Definitely the whiskey. No way he would say that while sober. It was weird. He had only taken in a single a glass, mostly due to the fact that whiskey was her hard liquor of choice. He wasn't this much of a lightweight that he could get drunk off of one glass. But that was what happened.

He had decided, in the hours since first receiving her message, to walk to the bar, bottle in hand, to drown his sorrow and disappointment away. That gained him many disapproving, unimpressed looks from the locals. Apparently bringing his own beer was frowned upon.

Maybe he got contact drunk from being around so many other drunks. Was that even possible? Even if it wasn't, it had to be a possible explanation.

'Missing me already, babe?' What was he thinking? He would have been shocked if she didn't demand his location so she could shove her boot up his ass. He frowned and downed another glassful of whiskey in one gulp. The amber liquid poured down his throat, leaving a hot burning sensation in its wake. The face he made, which was actually a normal reaction, gained him a few jeers and taunting laughs from the corner opposite him. He ignores the idiots and poured himself another glass.

Another shot was downed easily, the burning becoming slightly lessened. He sighed and poured himself another glass. He jumped and nearly messed up his pour when his phone went off. His heart jumped when he saw it was May. God, how pissed is she? He downed the shot and went to check it.

"I want to talk with you." He sighed again. She didn't sound upset, for as much as he could tell through a text message.

"I'm drinking," he replied. He downed another shot, and didn't get to pour another before she replied. He smirked. She must have really missed him if she was replying this quickly.

"Where?"

He rolled his eyes. "A near, sure the fuck else would i ne?" He smirked again, enjoying the small victory he thought he gained with his reply. He downed his drink and took a small glance at the guys who kept taunting him. They were still going at it and it was starting to piss him off.

"You're drunk."

He scoffed. "Lolololol. That's what happens when people drink. You know that ;)" Thank God for autocorrect. He downed another four shots in quick succession and almost fell out of his chair.

"I'm well aware. Which bar are you in?"

He shakily downed his second shot in row before responding. Or trying to. He took a minute to try to remember the name of the bar. Broken Angel, he believed. "The brikjen amfel."

"?"

He squinted to read the message. What were those, question marks? How could she not understand what he said? "I said the brikem amfel."

"The Broken Angel?"

"Thats what i sais."

"You're so drunk."

He imagined her laughing and smiled, and then guffawed unabashedly. "Am nit." The men across from him grumbled loudly.

"Are too."

"Youre drunk."

"That was easily the clearest thing you've said."

He fell into a uncontrollable giggling fit, earning the attention of the men across from him. "Im nit dunk."

"I found you. I'm on my way to collect you, so hang tight."

He kept giggling, much to the annoyance of the men across from him. The four of them got up. Grant noticed them walking toward him and sighed loudly. "Hamg tight sexy gotsta fight some guys."

"What?! Don't do anything until I get there."

Unfortunately, her sound advice went unheeded, as he had already rose to his feet to confront them. There were only four of them. The one at the fore was stocky, bald and had cannons for arms. He wasn't wearing a shirt, but had a leather vest on instead. The two next to him were lanky twins, both blonde with sculpted goatees. They were wearing vests like the first one. The largest one was obviously older, favoring his right knee and sporting a scar along his right cheek. His long black hair and beard were peppered with gray hair. "Hey there, guys. How can I help you fellas?"

"You can help by shutting the fuck up with your damn laughing!" the largest one said.

"Yeah," one of the twins agreed, "we can't drink if you keep bothering us!"

Grant laughed, deliberately. "Sorry, was just talking with this girl I'm fucking. Couldn't help myself." Good thing May wasn't there; she probably wouldn't have liked that.

Neither did their leader, Baldy McVest. He sneered up at the bigger Grant. "Fucking, huh? Maybe I'll beat your ass, then go and give her a real fucking. Good and hard. How d'ya like tha–"

Normally, Grant would have laughed that off and walked away. Normally, Grant would have let it go and left before the situation hit a boiling point. He, unfortunately, wasn't his normal self. His fist blurred until it contacted McVest's chin. Baldy tumbled back and crashed through a table behind him. "No!" Grant yelled drunkenly. "Only I can fuck Melinda! Not you!" The twins flew into action and grabbed Grant, one on each arm.

He struggled against the two tall, but lanky men, and managed to cause one to trip over a chair. Arm free, he punched then other twin repeatedly until blood was flowing down his face.

"Aw hell naw!" The old man, Oldbeard the Pirate, charged Grant and drove him through a table.

Grant groaned and elbowed Oldbeard in the face before smashing two beer bottles over his head. A third one shattered over his head, and he was out.

By that point, the twin who had tripped, Thing One, was already up and kicked him in the chest while he was trying to stand. McVest was up too, and together they lifted him up and threw him through another table. "Take him outside!" the bartender demanded.

McVest smirked and picked him up with the help of Thing Two. They threw him through the door and into the parking lot. Grant rolled to his feet and landed a strong punch into Thing One's crotch. He elbowed him repeatedly in the face into he sagged to the ground.

"You sonova –!" Thing Two charged him and threw a haymaker that missed badly. Grant ducked under McVest and backhanded him in the side of the face before spear tackling the rangy man into a car. He groaned as Grant stood and kicked him in the face.

"Bastard!" McVest charged him, missed a badly telegraphed punch and nearly keeled over when Grant laid a heavy punch into his stomach.

Even in his drunken state, he was still a trained combatant. A talented one, at that. He bobbed and weaved, albeit sloppily, around his punches and countered with well placed jabs and timely knees. Baldy McVest stood no chance and was out cold in a few punches.

"Fuck yeah!" he roared in triumph. "I won! I wo-" He stumbled back and fell on his butt. "Only I can fuck you, Melinda." The sound of a smooth, quiet engine pulled up into the parking lot, attracting the attention of those who had congregated outside to watch what they thought was going to be a three on one beatdown. Moving so much had his head swimming like a raging river. Nausea washed over him, making him feel like throwing up.

A pair of boots stepped down on either side of him, and a sweet smelling woman bent down over him. He grinned. "Heeeey, Mindy May. What'cha doing here?"

Melinda sighed. "Can you stand and walk?"

"I can do a lot more than walk, baby. I can – Ow!"

She thumped him in the nose and stood up. "Stand up and get in the car before the cops show up."

"I'll get in you," he muttered loudly. He rolled over and gingerly rose up. Everything was spinning like a top, making him squeeze his eyes shut and held his eyes. "Ah, shit."

"Come on," she said while leading him to the passenger side of the Lamborghini. He easily tumbled inside, and she quickly jumped in the driver's side and sped off, moments before a pair of police cars showed up.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

"I… I was thinking about beating the shit outta some guy talking shit about you. I'm not havin' that." He groaned and touched his head lightly. His head was already felt like it was going to split wide open.

"No. You weren't thinking. You're a SHIELD agent, Ward. You have to conduct yourself professionally all the times. What if a fellow agent was in that bar and saw you? You have to –"

"Blabbity blah blah blah. You know how pretty your lips are when you're runnin' your mouth?" He reached over to try and touch them, but she slapped his hand away. He laughed.

"I'm going to chalk that up to you being drunk."

"No, you can chalk it up to me defending your honor," he said as sensibly as he could.

"I don't need you to. I don't want you to. You should've waited for me to get there and then pointed him out. I defend my own honor."

He frowned. In his drunken stupor, he could still tell that she was upset. "I… I just thought…"

"Why? Why would you think that I'd want that?"

Sober, he wouldn't have answered, or just lied. Drunk, he said the first thing that came to mind, which was, unfortunately, the truth. "Because I love you," he blurted before he could stop himself. She didn't say anything, but he heard her gasp softly. "I love you, Melinda."

Her grip on the steering wheel tightened. "I… better get you to my place," she mumbled.

He smiled. "I love you so much," he repeated for a third time, softly. The words just poured out of his mouth as easily as the whiskey did earlier. He smiled sleepily and softly touched her face. The last thing he saw before passing out was the fond smile touching her lips. She said something, but he was out before he could realize what it was.