I’m slowly getting back into fic writing, and it’s like i’m reintroducing myself to everyone all over again. This piece I think is an embodiment of that, and I plan on continuing it every few days.
So sit back, have a cup of tea - or any warm beverage, i’m not gonna judge you - and enjoy.
SUMMARY: It’s been years, and as you’ve moved on and accepted new friends into your life; you’re greeting with an old familiar face
WC: 1471
Part 1
The room was bustling, roars of laughter erupting from small intimate booths and mingling conversations warmly playing to your ears. Leaning across the bar, you clasp your hands together, offering a friendly smile to the man across from you; of who returns it without a second thought. “Hey, Y/N, same as usual?” he asks out of habit, though you notice that he has already begun to pour your drink. Your smile widens as you let out a small laugh. “No point breaking tradition now” you joke, taking the drink from his hand and stealing a sip. “How’s life, Neil?” you inquire, settling into your seat and watching the man work, his movements smooth and graceful. You’d become close friend over the past year, and quickly fallen into the routine of meeting him for a drink before his shift would draw to a close. Your busy lives were a constant hurdle, and with such a small amount of free time; late night drinks became the only way to guarantee spending time with your best friend. He flicks his eyes to you as he swiftly wipes down the bar. “Same old, same old” he shrugs, running his free hand through his ashy curls. “I’m, err...” he looks sheepishly at you, before letting out a slight sigh “still having troubles with Val”, his sentence trails off and you can see his eyes sadden. You place your drink carefully on the bar in front of you, watching Neil closely. “As in, fighting troubles?” you ask gently, unsure of what to do with your hands. The man doesn’t reply immediately, rather ducking below the bar and scooping up two shot glasses, placing them in front of you. In the same motion, he grasps at a bottle of tequila; and you internally cringe.
“As in... I’m moving out troubles” he finishes lamely, sloshing the tequila into the glasses before pushing one towards you. “Oh man, I’m so sorry” you say, watching his eyes shine in the dim lights. He shrugs, removing his apron and passing it to the next shift worker in line, stepping away from the bar to move closer to you. Trying not to pull a face, you lift up your shot, holding it out to him. “To being single” you say sadly, clinking your glass against his before downing it; letting your insides burn.”That’s one” Neil jokes harshly, “ready for two?” bringing the bottle he’d left on the bar back to your now empty shot glass. This time, you can’t avoid the disgusted expression that works its way on to your face. “Oh god, please; if we’re gonna be doing this all night I’m going to need something nicer”. He smiles at you teasingly, a little more genuine, before topping up your glass. “Fine, last one” he says, filling up his own glass and passing the bottle back to the new bar attendant, “then I’m heading home”. You toast your glasses together, raising and eyebrow at him as he quickly tips his shot back with a shudder. “Well, heading to Robs” he corrects himself, his voice husky from the burning. You finish your drink with what little grace you can muster, before reaching for your coat.
“Let me walk you there” you offer, but he shakes his head.
“Nah, I just need time to think is all. I’ve been doing a lot of that lately.” He laughs a little, staring off behind you distractedly. “You’re a good friend, Y/N” he continues, returning his gaze to you, “which is why I’m gonna tell you the signal again.” You stare at him blankly.
“Wat?” you say shortly, confused. He holds his hand over the bar, looking at you, then tapping it once. “This signal”, he repeats he motion before explaining further. “Everyone who works here knows that signal to mean ‘holy fuck help me’ when it comes to bad dates or annoying patrons.” You laugh a little, but let him keep going. “There’s a man over there, looks like he’s been punched in both eyes cus of how tire he looks, that hasn’t stopped checking you out”. You mouth opens slightly, surprised.
“What a description” you joke, smiling widely, “you’re really selling it”. You throw your arms into the air in exaggeration “cus, like, dating is totally what’s on my mind right now.”
“Good” he says, ignoring your sarcasm and nodding as he picks up his coat and moves to leave “cus he’s about 10 seconds away from heading over to buy you a drink”. Before you can protest, Neil has already moved away and out the door, “I’ll be fine!” you hear him yell from outside; leaving you with nothing but his smirk and your utter confusion.
With a deep, aspirated sigh, you lean back against the bar, the new tender smiling sweetly at you as she continues to serve. Before you can move to leave to escape what you expect to be a soon awkward social interaction; you hear the stool next to you squeak across the wooden floor. “Hey” says the voice of the man now occupying the chair to your left, though you have yet to look up and greet his face. “This is gonna sound weird cus I was coming over here to tell you that you’ve got, like, rocking boots on and stuff but now I swear to god you look familiar and I have no idea why so I thought I’d come over here to try and figure it out and – oh my god.’ He stops suddenly, breaking the quick stream of his stumbling words when you turn to look at him, certain you recognised his voice. Your eyes settle on his face, and immediately you’re overwhelmed by the warms of his deep set eyes nestled in their dark circles, as well as the lines that cease his face and that shock of wild hair.
“Y/N?” asks Joel, incredulously; his eyebrows knitting together and mouth hanging open. Your face splits into an uncontrollable beam as he exclaims your name again, happily standing up with his arms open. “Oh my god, Joel!” you reply, bouncing into his arms and hugging him tightly, joining in his laughter. “Jesus Christ,” you manage, pulling away and touching his arm, staring up at him, “what the hell are you doing here?” He laughs again, running his hand through his hair, the look of surprise still clinging to his features. “I could ask you the same thing” he retorts, leaning against the bar. You look to the attendant, who is watching you both closely; and you offer her a smile before she returns it and turns away. “Last time I saw you, you’d abandoned ship to chase your dreams” says Joel, rubbing the back of his neck. You nod, pulling yourself back on to your stool so you were at eye level. “Yeah,” you reply, nodding “that was, what” – you pause to think – “five years ago now?”
“Oh god, way to make me feel my age” remarks Joel, and you laugh. “Five years...” he mutters, staring at you with an attentive, yet distant expression.
“Did you do it?” Joel’s eagerness makes you blush slightly, your cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink as you feel yourself proudly straighten in your seat. “You bet your ass I did” your words are met with exuberant cheering and suddenly he’s hugging you again, lifting you from your seat and into the air. “I knew it” he says fondly, ruffling your hair, “I knew you could do it”. He puts you down gently, looking a little abashed; “I have so much to catch up on”. Pushing him lightly on the shoulder, you return his smile, becoming aware that the pub’s noises are dwindling as the crowds begin to finish their drinks and stumble home. With the fire of tequila keeping you warm, you motion to the door. “Better get started then”, you pick up your coat and purse, slipping a $20 across the bar to the woman; who bids you a friendly goodbye. Joel follows suit, “thoughts?” he asks as you step into the cool air, the smell of rain tangible on the wind. “A bite to eat” you state, beckoning him to come with you, and he quickly falls into pace with your steps as though nothing had changed. “A bite?” he mocks sarcastically, smiling down at you and bumping into your side “What makes you think I haven’t already eaten?” You peer at him as you rock into his side “You, eating before midnight? Please” you scoff, leading him to the bright neon signs adorning the side of an old diner. “I know you Joel, whether you’ve eaten or not”, he pushes open the door by reaching over you, the smell of greasy fries and burgers filling your nose as you smile: “you always have room”.
