Several Nightcaps Later // WandaNat Bartender AU

2

Weeknights were always slow. The bartender usually spent hours cleaning glasses until they sparkled, and if she got bored enough she would ball up napkins and shoot them into the trashcan by the bar entrance. Tonight was one of those nights. Smooth jazz played on loop over the beat down jukebox in the corner, old ceiling fans rattled and clanked from the wear and tear of decades of use. This was the soundtrack to the bartenders imagined training montage. Someday, she thought, they may make trash-ketball into an Olympic sport. For now, though, it was a wistful pastime. Wanda took one final shot, spinning and fading away, her smile dropping as the wadded up napkin landed squarely on the forehead of an incoming patron.

"My bad," Wanda apologized, one hand sheepishly covering her face.

"I think you missed," Natasha responded. The redhead surveyed the scattered paper balls in the general vicinity of the wastebasket. "More than once, it seems."

The bartender busied herself polishing glasses again; the redhead's stare was intense and probing. "Yeah, well," Wanda chuckled. "I was bored. Not anymore, though."

Natasha ordered her typical drink and made no further attempt at conversation, though she sipped slower than usual. Wanda, not seeing anything else to do, set out sweeping the place, the old hardwood's squeaks filling the air along with the jukebox.

"So, uh," Wanda tried, sweeping up her missed trash can shots. "Your cut looks better today."

Natasha didn't so much as look up. "Thanks."

"Those kids at Chuck E. Cheese are real menaces, huh?"

That earned a tiny smile. "8 year olds, I'll tell you."

Wanda paused her sweeping, propping an arm up on the broom. "A joke?" She asked with a smirk.

Natasha finished off her drink. "Make a big deal of it and you won't hear another."

"Fine, fine."

Wanda resumed sweeping. No matter how many laps she took with her trusty broom and dustpan, more grime and dirt always surfaced from the porous old hardwood. It was frustrating, but at least it was occupying for these dull weeknights where patrons were few and far between.

Secretly, though Wanda loved being a bartender, she always craved something more than just this, and that desire was only exacerbated by nights like this. She wished for a little more depth than small talk, filling glasses, and listening to the jukebox drone on and on. This woman seemed to have that depth. No one with a boring life had this many bizarre injuries and vague replies. Who in the world was she?

A ringing cellphone cut through the quiet. Natasha jumped, a hand instinctively reaching for something at her hip. With a frown, Wanda ventured back to the counter to retrieve her phone.

"What do you want, Pietro?" The bartender answered quietly, retreating to the part of the bar farthest from Natasha, who watched intensely, but subtly.

Wanda sighed. "I told you, I don't have any more." She ran a hand through her long, wavy hair, which a this point was a bit unkempt from a long shift. "We're not having this conversation again. I'll call you back later, I'm at work."

Shaking her head, the bartender turned the ringer of her phone off with a huff, shoving it into the back pocket of her jeans. Natasha toyed with her now empty glass, chin resting on a propped up hand.

"An ex?" Natasha asked, sounding tired. Her eyes didn't flit up from the glass that occupied her cut up fingers.

Wanda scoffed. "A brother."

Natasha clocked how the bartender did not elaborate, so she decided to head up to her room for the night to give the bartender some space. After all, it was nearly 2 am. The bar would close soon. Standing, Natasha pulled a crisp twenty out of her denim jacket pocket and quietly placed it on the bar. Wanda did not seem to notice, as her stormy eyes were set on her broom once more.

"See you tomorrow," Natasha said.

Once Wanda broke out of her thoughts and registered what was happening, she softly responded, "yeah, sure, tomorrow..." but the redheaded woman was already gone.