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A strange sound from a familiar voice catches Geto out of guard as it breaks through the music, making him lift his eyes from the clinking glasses to scan the space over the bar counter. It had been a mostly calm night at the Devilock, a rare feat he was ready to commemorate before he heard the noise. And there it was again, the angry grunting. And he was sure it was your voice.
Looking around once more, his eyes pierce through the crowd that gathered to watch the band. He doesn’t need to do much looking, however, as soon he spots you, coming to sit down at a corner of the counter, quickly followed by a strange man that sits beside you. And you don’t seem all that happy with the situation. Without thinking, Geto makes his way from his corner of the counter up to you. His mouth contorted into a tight, sly smile.
“Hey there, doll. My favorite patron needing anything?” His voice cuts through the music, the tightness of his smile spreading to his tone.
Geto sees your eyes lit up when he appears, but not in a way he likes. You’d often have a gleam in your eye when you approached him at the counter, but it was always a flirtatious charm. This time, it looked almost as if you had just spotted safe shelter in the middle of a storm. He didn’t like it one bit.
“Hey, Suguru,” you start, and Geto can feel a slight tremor in your voice, your usual cheerful tone constrained into something uncomfortable, “can you see me a co-”
“The doll here and I are gonna have a Negroni,” the man cuts you off, and Geto notices the way you stiffen at his voice, causing his eye to twitch.
“I didn’t say I was drinking with you,” you respond, looking the man up and down before you turn back to Geto, and although you are slurring, there is clear disdain in your voice. “Just a coke.”
“A coke and a Negroni then.”
Geto interjects in a harsh tone before the man can say anything else. He can feel bile rising to his throat, a part of him wanting to punch the guy right now, but he knows he can’t just jump on costumers. At least, not without a good reason. So he settles for the menacing tone, quickly turning to one of the fridges and grabbing a coke, turning around and pouring it for you, hardened stare set on the strange man.
You thank him quietly, and he smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He can feel every fiber in his body tense, every muscle tight and on the edge. Geto tries to tell himself that he is just worried about you, as he would with any patron - wishfully trying to ignore the clear rage burning in him. But deep inside, he knows that the dread that settles in his stomach as he turns around to prepare the drink is more than normal worry.
Well, he can unpack this thought later.
“Come on, doll , you should have a drink with me. We could have some fun.”
The moment Geto turns his back to the counter, he can hear the man’s voice again. Disgusting . It sounds slimy and disgusting. And it settles in his spine the wrong way. His darkened eyes flicker to the mirror on the wall before him, spying on the situation to make sure the bastard doesn’t cross a line. He tugs his sleeves lower out of a nervous habit, almost as if he can feel the things they are meant to hide slipping out as Geto’s fist itches to find that guy’s face.
It’s like the loud music in the bar is almost drowned in the moment, all Geto can hear is the man’s voice and the clinking of his tools as he prepares the drink. His movements are fast and almost robotic, long fingers moving at top speed. His eyes keep darting from the task at hand up to the well positioned mirror - a clever way for the bartenders to manage to keep an eye on the bar while their backs are to the counter.
“Thanks, but no,” you reply, barely hiding a sneer. The man tries to put an arm around your shoulder, but you manage to avoid his touch. Utterly disgusting .
“Come on, baby, don’t be so stuck up, you are too pretty for that.”
“She already said no,” Geto interjects just as he slides the drink in front of the guy, lips pulled in a thin line, he is pretty sure a vein is popping on his face by now.
“Eh?” The man turns to Geto with narrowed eyes, looking way too smug for someone trying his best to pester a drunk woman at a bar. “What do you even know? We are just having a chat, run along, Mr. bartender.”
The man finishes his phrase with a chuckle before he drinks from his glass, the sound of his laugh almost making Geto gag. He only turns his eyes to you, not moving an inch, strong arms crossing over his broad chest. He wouldn’t dare leave you alone right now - there are other bartenders in the counter, he can hold his position for a few more minutes.
“I’m not interested, I think you should leave me alone,” your voice is cold now, despite the slight slurring, your blunt words making the guy freeze in place.
“Clear enough for you? I think it’s your time to leave.”
Geto just turn his eyes to the man, leering with white hot rage as he runs his tongue piercing over the back of his teeth, another nervous tick he’d picked up. He is almost on the edge, every nerve in his body telling him to solve this the old way he knows so well. But he reminds himself the last thing he needs after turning his life around is to go picking fights with people. He rather likes his freedom. But he is sure the manager would help cover up for him in this case.
“Come on, we are just partying , just having fun.”
The guy tries to reach out and touch you again, one hand holding his drink to his lips as you start cowering away. But Geto is faster this time, his large hand wraps around the man’s wrist in a death grip, veins popping in his forearm as his fingers tighten with a crushing force. The man whines at the aggression, and Geto scoffs. He doesn’t like displaying violence casually, this guy had already pushed his luck.
From the corner of his eyes, he can see his manager standing at the counter and looking in their direction. Those angry eyes move from the troublesome costumer to Geto with a snapping motion. Had it been when he’d just started the job, he’d been scared of losing his lifeline. But by this point he already knew his manager well enough to tell he was just in stand by to see if Geto would need help.
The rule at the Devilock was that violence was a solution to be used in moderation. But it could still be used.
“She said leave ,” Geto repeats through gritted teeth, pulling the man in closer to him by the wrist, making him lean on the counter enough to see the work station underneath. “And I’m gonna give you two options, you leave by yourself through the front door, or I drag you through the backdoor, and you’re gonna see a different type of party .”
Geto’s eyes flicker from the front door back to the counter as he speaks, the man looking at him in clear fear. To punctuate his last line, he uses his free hand to pick up one of the big knives in the work station and sinks it in the cutting board, the sharp blade glistening in the dim bar light. When Geto let’s go of his wrist, the guy almost falls back, wide eyes looking between terror and rage as he almost falls off.
At the end, he just steps away, quickly finding his own way out of the door. Geto sighs as the tension unwinds, putting the knife back in place and thanking his lucky starts that this didn’t lead to anything else. Now he really needed a fucking smoke.
“Thank you,” your soft voice cuts through his thoughts as you drag on the last word in an almost melodic way, “ my knight in shining armor .”
Geto scoffs, looking at you with kind eyes. You were clearly drunk, skipping fast from discomfort back to your usual flirting with him. At another time he’d play along - even if he knew he couldn’t go much past just the flirting - but right now he could still feel the stress in his bones. Different from you, he was fully sober.
“I’m anything but,” he responds with a tense chuckle, finally getting a good look at you as you lean your torso on the counter. “What was that?”
“That’s what I get when I’m polite,” you slur.
“Word to the wise, save your politeness for when you are sober, and the bar isn’t so packed.”
“Oh, I’m not that drunk,” you protest, and he can’t help but laugh, “by the way could you put some rum in my coke?”
You try to give him your best puppy eyes, and suddenly Geto is laughing. It’s like the stress is removed from his shoulders as that usual gleam returns to your gaze. But he wasn’t falling for that, you were clearly drunk.
“You can’t fool me, doll, you’ve had enough alcohol for tonight. Finish your coke, then I’ll get you some water.”
“Aw, now you’re being too knightly,” you respond with a pout, and Geto can’t help but think it’s adorable. “But it’s cute, because it means you care about me.”
You are back to the flirtatious tone, and Geto feels his cheeks burning as he hears the snickering laughs of his manager. Quickly, he looks down to the sink, getting busy with washing the glasses, hoping the dim light of the bar won’t reveal the red in his face. You have a way of getting under his skin, and it almost makes him forget all the stress of the world around you both.
“Yeah, no more alcohol for you, for sure,” he shoots back with a soft laugh.
You stay on the counter and does as he says, it doesn’t take much for you to sober up again. That night, Geto walks you out of the bar, using his smoke break to wait with you for your cab. The hour is late, the streets outside are empty, save for the two of you. Geto enjoys those peaceful few minutes with you more than he knows he should. When it’s over, he just stands alone, contemplating the smoke from his cigarette as it seeps into the air, trying not to think of how he wants to see you again already.
Just as his smoke break is ending, and he is about to go back, Geto spots an unwelcomed face peeking from the corner of the street, only partially illuminated by the cold lamp post. It’s the guy he’d kicked off earlier. The man tries to jump him but ends up with his back hitting the ground. He picked a fight with the wrong guy.
The man gets up to his feet, seeping with anger. Geto isn’t interested in starting anything, but he isn’t beyond defending himself. Violence was a solution to be used in moderation. But it could still be used. Though, tonight he didn’t even need to fight. Just as Geto steps under the lamp light and rolls up his sleeves to get into a fighting stance, the man freezes, eyes wide in fear again before he starts scrambling back.
Shit, now he needed another cigarette, but his smoke break had just ended. Well, back to the bar it is.