Notes:
-Modern AU.
-I've been listening to a lot of sea shanties recently and they're so good. This one is inspired by Bully in the Alley!
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The red-haired man was a frequent visitor at the pub, and the fact that you knew that was saying a lot about him.
Despite working as a bartender at Bob's Bar for over 5 years, you'd think that you would grow accustomed to having regular customers and improve your memory of them. Alas, faces and voices blended together as customers repeated the same old drunken stories to you.
This man, however, caught your attention the very first time he ordered. The scar over his left eye, his constant flirting with men, women, across the spectrum, his cheerful attitude.
Goddamn his cheerful attitude.
Nothing seemed to get him down. In fact, you don't remember seeing him frown or scowl for more than two seconds at all, and it probably wasn't because of your poor memory of people. Even when an unruly group of people started jeering at him and his friends (who you didn't remember, of course you didn't, how could you?) and went so far as to spill a whole glass of alcohol on him, he remained passive as ever, laughing it off.
What made him stick in your memory was that very next day. You had definitely remembered him having two arms, and when he came back with one less, you couldn't help but stare and wonder how he lost it and how he was still cheerfully oblivious the very next day?
Having caught you staring, or anyone else that might have noticed him, he explained offhandedly with a grin.
So having committed this man to your memory and the drinks he liked, you were rather surprised when he came in with a less energetic smile one night.
What was even more off was that he was alone. When you served him before all those other times, he was always with someone, whether it was that Ben Beck man, the Hawk man who looked like Dracula, or some shirtless guy with freckles. (How did he get acquainted with that guy?)
"What'll you have?" you asked anyway, sliding yourself in front of him behind the counter. "Shanks, right? The usual?"
"You're the usual, I'll have you," he said smoothly with a grin, almost immediately as if he practiced that line.
"I'll get you some beer," you said flatly, turning to get a mug. It was a weak drink, and not his usual.
"No wait!" He laughed. "Something stronger. I'm feeling it tonight."
"Aye." You rolled your eyes, going over to the farther shelf for the right rum. Bob was very organized with his sorting, but also very inconsistent, which led to different arrangements of drinks every few days, much to yours and your coworkers' annoyance.
Having found one of the stronger rum, you returned with the bottle and a shot glass.
"Slow night?" Shanks asked, taking the glass as you poured him some.
"Yeah. Usually it's very busy at this time." You looked around at the bar, taking note of the amount of people. There were two or three small groups of people and a couple possibly flirting with each other as a coworker played the third wheel. You poured him another shot when he downed the first. "Bad night?"
He raised an eyebrow, surprised, but flashed you a grin. "Not with you here."
"You're usually more cheery," you said, ignoring his answer. "And with someone."
"Aw, you remember me that much?" He chuckled, downing the second shot. "What if I said I just wanted to be with you?"
"You don't even know my name," you scoffed. You poured him another shot again.
"Ah, but I do remember you. Good-looking bartender, works at a place called Bob's Bar, remembers my orders, and single looking to mingle!"
"At least you got half those points right."
"You mean you don't remember my orders?" He laughed, downing his third shot.
He was already quite tipsy. He usually had around 10 shots before he was noticeably drunk, but a drink this strong may bring that down to 5 or 6 at the least. You've seen people stop at less, but Shanks was a strong drinker.
"Alright, alright," he said, despite you not saying anything. "I had a fling with someone, and it turned out the be something more."
Ah, a romance story. You've heard plenty of those and you'd be lying if you said you weren't disappointed to hear if from this man.
"We were together for a long time," he continued. "I thought we'd be together forever. We fit, y'know?" His words started slurring as he took another shot, but his eyes somehow remained clear, though a bit hazy. "I thought there was something more."
He continued on about whoever this person was and how much he enjoyed the relationship while it lasted and what could've have happened, and you continued listening. It wasn't your cup of tea, but there wasn't much else to do and you somehow enjoyed listening to him babble on, despite not taking in most of the story.
"Sorry to hear that," you murmured when he quieted. He finished about 8 shots, way more than you expected, and his head was slumped across the bar.
"Here." He raised his head as quickly as it had fallen, sliding you the money for the drinks. He tilted his head to the side, grinning at you. "Extra for your company."
You then watched as he promptly got up from the chair and fell.
"You okay?" you called, alarmed. You leaned over the counter, ready to hop over in case he needed help.
Thankfully, he seemed alright as he landed on his back and didn't hit his head or anything. "I'm fine!" He lifted himself up to the bar.
You sighed, giving him an open hand. "Give me your keys."
"Key to my heart? You've already got it." His drunken state seemed to make his lines so much more cheesy.
"Your car keys," you said, having difficulty keeping a poker face. "You're drunk."
"Drunk with love!" Shanks reached into his pocket anyway and handed you the keys, smirking at you. "I'll give you the keys to my house, too."
You shook your head disappointedly, cracking a smile. You pocketed the keys and quickly poured him a glass of water. "Sober up."
He didn't make a pickup line after you said that, thankfully. He downed the glass in just a few seconds, then turned to the door. "I'll just get a breath of fresh air," he reassured you.
At least he was able to walk now.
You wiped down the counter and starting washing the glasses thoroughly, glancing at the door occasionally. You've met plenty of flirts in this job, but he was something else entirely.
When Shanks didn't come back in the next twenty minutes, you started growing more concerned. It was really late now, and being as drunk as he was, it was not safe outside the bar. You notified your boss about your quick leave, and went out to look for him.
"Oi, watch it," a man hissed as you bumped into him in your hurry. There was a flicker of recognition as he looked at you. "Hey, you were there that one time. You knew where I can find that red-haired man? Scar across his left eye, idiotic grin, a fucking asshole. I know he comes here often."
He seemed to remember you and Shanks, but you didn't remember him at all, but that wasn't a surprise. However, the way he spoke and just one glance at him gave you immediate warning signs. Narrowed eyes, muscular arms, just looking for a fight.
"No." You brushed past him, hoping it would end like that. If that man hadn't seen Shanks around when he came, where could he be?
The street outside was quiet and red did not pop out in front of you. There were still cars parked, belonging to the other customers sober or were sobering up, which could include Shanks'. You pressed a button on his car keys, and one of the cars beeped, confirming that it was here.
When you looked around the back alley of the bar, you finally found him leaning against the wall, still in a drunken posture.
"Hey," you called, shaking his shoulder lightly. "You okay?"
"Hm?" He looked at you somewhat confused, but gave you a small grin. "Yeah, yeah. Just needed a breath of fresh air, like I said. What, you missed me?"
Yep, he's okay. "I'll admit I was worried. It's dangerous out here, especially when you're drunk. And I'm right, there was someone looking for you."
As if you summoned him, you heard the man from before angrily shouting profanities, coming closer. He spotted you and Shanks in the alleyway. "You do know where he is, you fucking liar!"
At the moment he asked, your answer was true, you figured. But not that he would've cared.
The man stormed toward you, hands clenched into fists and scowling.
You started panicking now; you've witnessed plenty of bar fights, big and small, but you've never broken up one. It was either Bob or another one of your stronger coworkers. You had no experience in this encounter, and you didn't know if Shanks had any either, with or without his drunkenness.
Suddenly, Shanks pushed you behind him, arm steady and firm to shield you from the assaulting man's attack. You cringed when the man clocked him in the face, not holding back at all.
"You got a fight to pick with me, not them." Shanks chuckled, not showing any sign of weakness nor drunkenness.
The man seemed to ignore his words, instead going in for another hit. He seemed to be fueled entirely with anger, especially with not seeing Shanks budge at all.
This time, Shanks didn't take the hit. He grabbed his arm with his one hand, twisted it, turned him around as he cried out, and kicked his back to knock him to the ground. The man laid there for a second before turning around and attempting to get up, even more furious. But there was a hint of fear in his eyes as Shanks stared him down.
"Can't even beat a one-armed drunken man?" Shanks said teasingly. It was in a cheerful tone but somehow, it scared even you. "C'mon, we just got started."
The man was fully intimidated now, scrambling to get up and run away. "This isn't over!"
You and Shanks watched as he fled with his tail tucked between legs. A moment later, Shanks swayed on his legs and you caught him before he fell. As you inspected him in this close range, you saw that his lip was bleeding and a bruise was forming on his cheek. "You're hurt."
"'M fine," Shanks dragged out. He wiped some of the blood off with the back of his hand; smearing it. He grinned at you with his eyes closed, then sighed. "Sorry for being such an ass."
"What? You weren't." You slowly helped him back to the entrance of the bar. "Granted, the cheesy lines were getting a bit too cheesy. And the fact that you seemed to make them on the spot." You huffed, pushing the door open.
He laughed, patting your shoulder. "I do my best. But really, getting drunk and making you listen to my whole drunken spiel. I don't usually get attached that much but...." He sighed again and shrugged. "And getting you involved in that fight. Who was that anyway?"
You chuckled, seating him down on a chair. You went to quickly get something to patch up his injuries. "Don't know, don't care. And you didn't make me do anything. I didn't mind listening."
He said nothing for once, letting you wipe the blood off and apply some bandages on his face. "Well, we're about the close soon," you said, surprising yourself when you checked the time. "You're definitely not sober enough to drive."
"I'll just stay in my car for a bit. I promise I won't drive." He grinned at you reassuringly, though it didn't help much.
"I'll just drive you back," you offered. "Not that I don't trust you, but it'll be much safer."
He raised an eyebrow, grin plastered on his face. "Guess I do have to give you the keys to my house too."
"If you drop another line I'm taking your car keys and going back to my own home." You tried to sound more threatening, but his smile was quite contagious and your voice wavered. This was going to be a long drive however close his home was.
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A/N:
I did not expect this to reach 2100+ words. And the "pick up lines"? I can't tell how smooth they are but they sounded smooth. I impressed myself with what I wrote for them and that does not happen often at all. The only one I had planned were the keys one, the others just fit together somehow.
But yeah. Drunk flirting Shanks was fun to write, though bit difficult to keep him from being too OOC.
Anyway, hope ya enjoyed this one.