thanks for the drink, but i like the bartender better
A/N: I know that I have like 3 WIPs but, uh, here you go! Let me know if y’all want more!
Warnings: swearing
Summary: Diego has realized recently that being a vigilante doesn’t leave him with much spending money. And that good knives were not cheap. So, when Al mentioned that a friend of his was hiring a bartender, he took the offer. How Al knew the owner of the trendiest club in town, Diego will never know. But, of the (few) jobs that he had, it was all right.
•••
There were multiple facts about the situation you were in that you did not like.
1. Your friend had abandoned you for some dick on your supposed “girls night”
2. She had promised to let you crash at her place since it was within walking distance
3. That was obviously not happening
You scoff into your drink, staring into the last of it and mentally preparing yourself for the walk to the subway. A glass is set down in front of you, and you glance up in confusion.
The bartender, a peppy blonde, smiles at you.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t order this.”
She giggles, swishing her ponytail. You’re not amused.
“I know! Your friend sent it over! She told me to tell you that she’s suuuuuper sorry and that she’ll make it up to you!”
You raise your eyebrow, and glance at the drink.
“Is it strong?”
The bartender gasps dramatically.
“Of course!”
Yeah, you couldn’t do this.
You grab the glass, and stand.
“Thanks.”
Making your way over the bar on the other side of the club, you slide into a stool at the end. Hoping to nurse your drink (and your grudge) in peace, you quickly glance around to make sure nobody you knew was nearby.
Your heart stops when you spot the bartender.
He was hot.
Tall, dark, handsome, with biceps that look like they’d feel so nice wrapped your thighs. Fuck.
You quickly look down back at your drink before he realizes you were staring. But, damn. You’ve never felt this attracted to a person before. Taking a sip of your drink, you try to calm your racing heart (and thoughts).
Five minutes of watching the condensation drip down your glass is all the peace you get before another drink is set down in front of you.
Looking up, you see him staring down at you. Before you can open your mouth, he speaks gruffly (and doesn’t your gut clench at that).
“That man over there bought you this drink.”
Glancing around him, you see the man in question. The guy seemed nice enough, but not what you wanted.
“Tell him I said thanks, but no thanks.”
You gently slide the drink back to his side of the bar.
The bartender raises one scarred (hoooo boy) eyebrow in response, but takes the drink back. A quick glance at his (broad, defined) chest shows a name tag.
Diego.
You go back to your drink, but Diego is back a minute later. This time, the drink in his hand is fluorescent pink, and when you look up at him questioningly, he just gestures to another man across the bar.
You smile politely, but shake your head.
Fifteen minutes later, you’re wondering what the hell is in the water because people will not stop buying you drinks. Which is all fine and dandy when you don’t have to hike your ass to the subway to get home.
It has to be the eighth time of Diego coming over with a glass of whatever in his hand when you finally snap.
“The next time someone tries to buy me a drink, please just tell them, point blank, I’m not interested. Tell them I’m a time traveling witch, that I eat human remains, that I believe psychic dolphins live in the sewers, I don’t care. Just get them to stop.”
Diego stops in front of you, and for the first time, smiles. Oh, and your heart melts.
“I think this is the first time that I’ve ever seen someone get mad over getting free drinks.”
You blush, twisting a napkin between your fingers.
“I’m not really in the mood tonight. If I had been this situation 45 minutes ago, it would be a different story.”
“Because that was before your friend left you, right?”
You glance up at him in shock, but he jerks his head in the direction of the bar you left.
“Cherry isn’t exactly quiet.”
Scowling, you throw back the rest of your drink.
“Yeah, to answer your question, it is because my friend left me. And now I have to walk my sorry ass to the subway.”
Diego takes the empty glass from your hand, fingertips brushing yours and sending shivers down your spine.
“I guess it’s smart that you didn’t take those drinks then.”
You nod mutely, the ability to speak stolen with that brief touch. He walks away to serve someone else, and you decide it’s time to call it a night.
If your (traitor) friend was here, she would have urged you to leave your number. But, it feels wrong to hit on someone while they’re working, so you settle for leaving him a decent tip.
Levering yourself off the barstool, you catch his eye as you set the bills down. Diego tilts his head in acknowledgment, and you start to head towards the door.
•••
You make it about 5 feet from the bar when an someone taps you on the shoulder. Turning, you see the first guy that bought you a drink. He smiles at you.
You don’t like it.
“Can I help you?”
He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.
“Hey, I’m Tim. I bought you a drink earlier.”
You nod impatiently.
“Yeah, I didn’t take it. Like you didn’t take the hint.”
Holding his hands up defensively, he backs up.
“No, I definitely got the hint. It’s just I’m here with my coworkers, and they’re dicks and keep roasting me-“
You interrupt his sob story.
“You want me to laugh and give you a fake number?”
He nods eagerly.
“That would be great! Here, I have a pen!”
Before you can reach for the pen, an arm is slung around your waist.
“Is he bothering you babe?”
Oh.
There’s only one voice that can make your insides clench like that.
You look up to see Diego frowning at Tim, who immediately retreats even further.
“Uh, never mind!”
Some part of you senses that he scurried away, but most of your thoughts are focused on how Diego feels against you.
Diego, who is currently steering you towards the exit, arm still firmly wrapped around you.
“Hey, wait, thanks for the rescue but aren’t you on the clock?”
He shakes his head, and when you’re outside he finally answers you.
“I was covering for someone who was late, and they came in right when that asshole came up to you.”
Diego unwinds his arm from you, and you mourn the loss of it. It’s cold.
“Tim was more of a coward than an asshole.”
Leaning against the brick, Diego watches you with dark eyes.
“Tim?”
You wrap your arms around yourself, shivering.
“Yeah, said the people he was with kept roasting him after I didn’t take that drink.”
“Because you weren’t in the mood.”
Taking a deep breath, you look him in the eyes.
“Because I like the bartender better.”
Tense silence fills the air, and you turn on your heel. Walking quickly towards the subway station, you berate yourself in your head.
A hand grabs your arm, and you’re having déjà vu as you turn.
“You can’t just run away after saying something like that.”
Diego’s expression is unreadable, and you quickly look at the ground.
“I wasn’t running, I was walking. Quickly.”
“Well next time, don’t walk away quickly before you get your answer.”
You look up at him through your lashes. Had he gotten closer?
“My answer?”
He nods, and looks away from you.
“Yeah. Do you, uh, wannagooutsometime?”
You stare at him blankly.
“Come again?”
Diego sighs, and meets your eyes.
“You wanna go get food? Right now? There’s a diner nearby.”
You frown, tilting your head.
“This isn’t a pity thing, is it?”
He huffs, and you can see his shoulders rise defensively.
“No. I’m tryna ask you on a date!”
“Oh.”
You blink in surprise.
“Really?”
Rolling his eyes, Diego shoves his hands into his pockets.
