Marvel Oneshots

Scotch on the Rocks (Jack Thompson)

Written for Agent Carter Bingo on Tumblr! Run by @agentcarterbingo and running through August, go check it out!

Requested on Tumblr

Square Filled: "You're an idiot."

Summary: Y/N is a bartender at one of the best dive bars in New York, and really loves their job. Except, that is, for the nights when Jack Thompson comes in to hassle them. Things may change, however, when Y/N gets closer to Jack than they ever planned on getting.

***************

I stood behind the bar, glass in hand as I scanned the faces of the people waiting for a drink. I'd have to pick up the pace of my drink-making a little if I could, since we were getting into the busier hours of the night. Nothing I couldn't handle, of course. I'd been a bartender at one of the best dive bars in New York for almost two years now.

I quickly filled the glass in my hand with the patron's requested beer, then set it in front of him before turning to take the next person's order. My focus was shattered, however, when I caught sight of a familiar tall blond slipping through the door to the bar.

Jack Thompson. One of the bar's regulars, and one of the only regulars who didn't have a serious drinking problem. I knew almost nothing about him beyond his name, and the fact that he was incredibly obnoxious. We'd gotten into an argument over how to make a martini the first time he'd come here, and we'd continued that antagonistic relationship ever since.

We made eye contact, and I scowled. He quickly returned my look with an insufferable grin that he knew set me off, but I just turned from the bar to fill the order I'd just taken. I was busy enough without trying to deal with Thompson too.

I did my best to ignore him as I moved to the next customer, but unfortunately for me, I couldn't avoid him all night. After making him wait until every single one of my other patrons had been served, I finally wandered over to take his order.

"What do you want?" I asked, not bothering to pretend to be pleasant like I did with some of the other patrons.

"My usual," he said with a smirk. I just glared at him.

"I have hundreds of people in and out of here every week. Believe it or not, I haven't made it a point to memorize your usual."

"Scotch on the rocks, sweetheart."

"Call me sweetheart again and I'll spit in your drink," I said, my voice dripping with fake sweetness as I turned around. I could feel Thompson glaring at my back, but I refused to acknowledge him.

I quickly made Jack's drink, then dropped it in front of him without any ceremony. He opened his mouth to say something else to me, but I turned and walked down the bar to another patron before he could.

I spent the rest of the night the same way I always did when Jack came in; I ignored him as much as possible and focused on the other patrons. When I did have to talk to him, I did my best to keep our interactions brief. I had no desire to talk to him for any longer than I had to.

As usual, Jack stayed until last call. After exchanging a few more barbs with me, he left his empty glass on the counter and walked out. Part of me thought he just came here to blow off steam with someone, from whatever his job was that made him look so stressed every time he came in here. Still, that didn't make him any less damn annoying.

The next few weeks passed uneventfully as ever. I worked my usual shift and saw a good mix of new and familiar faces, and Thompson kept showing up every now and again to frustrate the living daylights out of me. He always came into the bar on random days of the week, with no real routine as far as that went, which made me curious about what, exactly, he did for a living.