Another Man - The Bartender x MC, (Rules of Engement Fanfic)
[A little note: What happens to the other men that MC doesn’t choose in the finale of Rules of Engagement? How do they feel knowing the woman they’ve fallen in love with doesn’t pick them? @hartfeld and I were talking deeply about it and then I decided to do this little piece after.]
[Summary: Goodbyes have always been hard for Dean. Especially when it’s to the woman he fell in love with all summer and inteded to spend the rest of his life with.].
So this is what it feels like. The sharp pain inside his chest. It’s settled there from the beginning of the night and hadn’t lessened with each passing hour. A pain so feverent that it stretches; threatening to tear apart his very soul.
So this is what it sounds like. His heart bursting at the seams, as if it’s shattering into tiny pieces when he watches the taller gentlemen sweep her off her feet. Another man that isn’t him, that is nothing like him. And the realization stings as much as the memories they’ve shared over the course of the summer.
He has lined shots along the bar counter for patrons and replenishes them just as quickly as they come. Secretly, he wishes his shift would end just so he could down them all in one go. He wants to drown in liquor until he can’t see them, or hear them laughing anymore from across him. He wants to drink until he can’t think, can’t see straight. He barely resists the urge to grab a glass just as he looks up again.
A lump forms inside his throat at how happy they look. At how happy she looks. He shifts his attention again and pours another round of shots.
A guest has floated by again - a pretty blonde this time that would’ve kept his attention if things were different. If he hadn’t already fallen for the woman across the room.
Instead of taking a shot and leaving; her intentions have shifted on him. She leans over the counter and tries to catch his gaze with a flirty smile.
He knows the role he should play. He knows the role as easily as the back of his hand but his patience isn’t here tonight. Tonight, he nods rigidly and his smile is brisk when she asks him for his name. He doesn’t want to make small talk. In fact, he’s dissimive and has already forgotten the guest as he thinks of the woman’s lips he remembers kissing from the other night. Trailing lustful kisses down her spine as they rocked gently together in the boat he had rented. For once, they were hidden away from the rest of the world. There were no pretenses then. Only fond memories. He remembers entwinning their hands together when they joined and her cries of passion which had finally done him in. Goddammit. He had confessed his very soul to her, and now all those memories are a bitter reminder of what they’ll never have.
The blonde clears her throat loudly, and he’s finally finished with patience. He roughly sets aside a shotglass in front of her. “Not interested.” He says harshly, until the woman slinks away after intentionally spilling the drink across the counter.
He hisses and swears under his breath. As if the night couldn’t get any worse.
He drags a hand towel over the counter until he hears the sound of her laugh again. Involuntarily, his eyes quickly flies up - and he watches another man, quite different from himself roams his hands across her arms and cups her cheeks before kissing her. He watches even as the sight twists his stomach; seeing the way he pulls back to gaze at her. That should be me; he thinks. But it isn’t and it hurts. The little pieces of his heart. Their jagged edges hurts.
He can’t tear himself away from the sight this time. The way she stares up at him is the same way the bartender has often stared down at her; with unadulterated affection. But she’s looking at another man that way instead of him.
Look away, just look away. He tells his mind, but cannot bring himself to. The rest of him simply refuses to obey that command. All he can do is watch stiffly from a distance as his summer romance has been claimed by another.
His summer romance which was destined for forever has turned into bitter winter. Maybe his eyes are deceiving him. Maybe the fresh midnight air, and the stars above him are all lies. For how can it be summer, when all he’s left with is this cutting frost - the cold reminder of never being good enough? Of never feeling as if he has ever been good enough - not when it came to her. Not when it came to them - the other two, which had competed for her affections just as much as he did.
From the very beginning he knew; he had a long shot. A fighting chance, but one that never quite measured up. Why would she choose him when the other two could offer so much more?
In the glimpses, when he’s noticed them by the bar - he’s always been way over his head. They’re wordly, they’ve been places; they are cut from a silver spoon - and all he’s had to his name is a baterdender on this summer cruise. What could he offer her that they couldn’t?
All he can do is watch the way her eyes light up, and the little squeal she gives once the man nuzzles his face inside her neck. All he can do is watch even as his heart shatters at the sight. The image of another man giving her the future he has always wanted to give, but never had the chance to.
He drops the towel on the counter and steals a bottle of rum before calling it quits for the night. Maybe by tomorrow morning if he’s drinked enough - he can forget her dazzling smile and the sound of her voice, even if it’s only for a little while.
