Work Text:
You sat alone at the bar, starin’ at your dark, bitter drink, watchin’ the ice sink in your glass. You’d been nursin’ it, hardly rushin’ to finish up and get back home. All that awaited you was a dark, empty home. You’d rather be here right now– a dimly lit, wood-furnished, pool-table-filled local bar with buzzin’ neon signs and a quiet, older crowd. A dingy jukebox played some old country songs at a quiet volume, but what place in Georgia didn’t have country music blarin’?
You flipped open your phone, skimmin’ the messages left on the tiny screen. It was from your– if he kept this up –soon-to-be ex-boyfriend. He’d never treated you right, but you seemed to be a glutton for punishment and hadn’t considered leavin’ him ‘til now. He brought you down, and a good man would only build you up. It was exhaustin’ to clean up after him and his tantrums. He hardly let ya do anything, let alone go out to drink by your lonesome. He always feared that a man would try and pick ya up.
“May I sit here?”
A voice interrupted your thoughts and you looked to your side, seein’ a man your age with fair skin and blue eyes smile atcha. He wore a blue trucker’s cap, a yellow t-shirt with some graphic you didn’t understand, and bluish coveralls tied ‘round his waist. He looked like he’d just stepped foot outta some garage.
“Uh, yeah, sure,” you answered dismissively, glumly starin’ ahead at the bottles linin’ the back wall of the bar.
He took a seat in the barstool next to you, slidin’ his drink down the bar and drummin’ on the wood. It was just a bottle of beer. He seemed like the type; simple and predictable.
You brooded for a moment longer, off in your own little world, when the man finally spoke up again.
“Forgive me if this ain’t my place, but you haven’t touched that drink none since I walked in, and I been ‘ere fer long enough fer this ‘ta be my second bottle. Ya look like ya haven’t had any fun or smiled in a little while.”
You felt strangely more awake after bein’ called out, sittin’ up straighter and now awkwardly hyper-aware of yourself. “You been watchin’ me?”
“W–well, not like–“ he stammered a bit, takin’ off his cap for just a moment to slick his light brown hair back out of nervous habit, then puttin’ it back. “I ain’t been doin’ it in a creepy way, if t–that’s what yer askin’…”
“Whatcha so nervous for?”
“Not much, jus’ didn’t wantcha ‘ta think I was tryin’ ‘ta pick ya up or nothin’ like that.”
“Yer not?”
“No… You jus’ seemed sad and lonely, thas’all.”
You nodded and shook your head, fiddlin’ with your (H/T), (H/C) hair. Guess you were found out, and some guy with the disposition of a golden retriever was the one to tell first.
“That obvious, huh?” You hummed out of facetious amusement.
“Lil’ bit, yeah. Whas’ gotcha all blue, perdy thang?”
You sighed, flippin’ open your phone and scrollin’ through the heated texts with a man you’d stopped makin’ excuses for. Your (E/C) eyes scanned the screen ‘fore shakin’ your head.
“My man… He’s been a real pain in the ass lately. Always gripin’, always findin’ problems with everything. I been puttin’ up with it for too long now and it’s startin’ to get embarrassin’,” you responded, probably divulgin’ more than most strangers would care to know.
“Aw, shucks, that sounds rough,” he commented, as if he were actually listenin’. “What’s he get onto ya the most for?”
You were surprised by his interest. If he was tryin’ to just simply pick you up, he wouldn’t go through all this effort when it gained him nothin’.
“Hmm.” You thought for a moment. “He don’t like me spendin’ time with my friends or family, or that I make more money than ‘im. He makes messes and expected me to clean ‘em, and when I get onto him ‘bout it, he pitches a fit.”
“No offense to him or yer choices in men, but he sounds like a child. No grown man has a right ta’ be actin’ like that.”
“Don’t he? And I guess I just had ‘ta put up with it ‘cause he was one ‘a few men who looked my way. But I’d rather be alone than give ‘im another chance at this point.”
“I reckon that’s the right move.”
He took a sip of his beer and I smiled softly at him. “Why do you seem like you care so much?”
“Well, I–I mean…” He seemed to struggle to find his words again. “I just don’t like seein’ perfect angels so upset, I ‘spose.”
You felt a heat rise to your cheeks. It wasn’t often that you were offered a compliment, especially by someone who wasn’t so hard to look at himself. You couldn’t remember the last time your sorry boyfriend ever said nothin’ nice like that.
“‘Perfect angel’, huh? Is that what I am?” you teased.
“W–well, you’re gorgeous and nice, right? So m–might as well be.” He progressively became more nervous and shifted in his seat, keepin’ his gaze low, hopin’ to hide the red in his cheeks.
“So, you think I should dump ‘im?”
“As an outsider, I’d say so, yeah.”
You opened your phone once more, typin’ up a message on the small, slide-out keyboard. A simple, direct breakup text was all you owed him, so that’s what you sent. Afterward, you place your phone on the bar and turned toward the man, satisfied with yourself.
“All done,” you reported.
“For what it’s worth, as a stranger, I’m proud ‘a ya for puttin’ yerself first.”
“What’s your name?” You couldn’t believe it, but you’d been wrapped up in good conversation so much that you forgot to ask such a simple thing.
He seemed surprised for a moment ‘fore lettin’ out a boyish chuckle. “Oh, right, guess I should’ve said as much earlier. My apologies. I’m Ellis. You?”
“(Y/N). Nice to meetcha.” You reached out and shook his hand.
“Pleasure’s all mine, darlin’.”
You again found yourself blushin’ like a schoolgirl. He was sweet and he didn’t try to act too tough, which you hated about most guys. He had such a genuine, goofy grin and he seemed to find a reason to smile with every sentence.
“You look like you just came from a garage, Ellis,” I commented, openin’ up further conversation.
“Oh, yeah, I work in a garage with a few ‘a my buddies. I’m a junior mechanic– only twenty three so that’s not too far off-track. I mainly work with my buddy Keith.” He chuckled and shook his head wistfully. “Man, have I got stories for days ‘bout ‘im. He’s a real character. One time he tried ‘ta microwave all his silverware ‘cause he heard they disinfect stuff– kill all the germs ‘nd whatnot. Well, I guess nobody told ‘im ya can’t put metal in the microwave, ‘cause next thing any of us know, his house exploded ‘nd he was carted off to the hospital again. Now, he’d just left so they were real surprised to see ‘im again. Got more burns on top ‘a his existin’ burns. He’s still kickin’ but he only uses plasticware now, on account ‘a bein’ all scared of silverware. He still had us microwave things for ‘im sometimes. Oh, and I play bass in a band with my friends too.”
You sat there, stunned that the man could talk so long without takin’ a long breath. He didn’t even seem fazed, unlike you. So much information was thrown at you at once that you hardly knew what to do with yourself, but you tried to respond best you could.
“So… that’s a yes to bein’ a mechanic,” you mumbled.
“Aw, shoot, sorry. I just don’t usually get ‘ta finish my stories so I get real excited when someone actually listens,” he explained sheepishly.
“Hey, it’s okay. You’re fun. A lot more fun than my now ex-boyfriend.”
“Really?” He seemed to light up at this. “I mean, it don’t seem like a hard job. He was a piece ‘a work… But it’s nice ‘ta hear.”
“Yeah, yeah. I guess I should’ve seen it sooner.” You looked down, feelin’ a little sorry for yourself. A year wasted on a man who didn’t give two shits about you and you ended it just like that. So much time was wasted…
The mechanic took notice of your sourin’ mood and, while you weren’t payin’ much attention, gently turned your head toward him with his thumb restin’ on your chin. “You don’t need that guy, (Y/N). I don’t understand how a man could steal your thunder like that.”
Somethin’ within you clicked. This is what it was supposed to feel like, when someone was truly keen on makin’ you feel cared for. Your heart pounded in your chest and you leaned into his touch despite your better judgement.
“Ellis, you’re a real sweet-talker…”
He froze up before lowerin’ his hand and lettin’ out a nervous laugh. “S–shucks, I didn’t mean to, uh… I–I wasn’t tryin’ ‘ta make a pass atcha, sorry… My momma taught me better than ‘ta try ‘ta pick up a vulnerable person like that, y’know? You just broke up with your boyfriend, it wouldn’t be right.”
“Well, you’re makin’ me feel more special than my ex ever did. I wouldn’t exactly be opposed.”
He looked just ‘bout ready ‘ta melt. “H–hold on, you’re sayin’–“ He took a moment to collect himself. “Look, look, I just wanted ‘ta come over here ‘nd tell ya that if I was a p–painter, I wouldn’t change ya. ‘Cause I’d just paint ya bright like you oughta be. I swear I had no ulterior motive!”
You felt a little wrong swoonin’ so soon. You hadn’t felt this special in so long, and maybe you were fallin’ too fast here. It was hard not to, though… With his boyish charm, upbeat attitude, strong physique, handsome face, cute accent, and badass tattoo, the cards were a little stacked against you.
You took a sip of your drink, finally, and as watered down as it was, you still felt the bitterness slip down your throat. “Ya don’t have ‘ta be so squirrelly. I’m not mad none. If I didn’t want any attention, I woulda told ya ‘ta run off when ya asked ‘ta sit next ‘ta me.”
“I just get real tongue-tied ‘bout this kinda stuff, y’know? It ain’t easy bein’ in the presence ‘a perfection. ‘Cause I know I like ‘ta ramble and people get onto me ‘bout comin’ off too strong so I worry, but I feel like I can’t help it. I just really love chattin’, gettin’ ‘ta know people and lettin’ ‘em get ‘ta know me.”
“And I like that ‘boutcha so far.”
His eyes widened and he turned to look at you. “R–really? Ya don’t have ‘ta try ‘ta save my feelings–“
“I’m not. I got no reason to lie to ya.”
You smirked at him, elbow leaned on the bar, and he seemed like he had a crush already, based on how he leaned in and looked like he had hearts for eyes.
“You’re real honest, huh?” he asked.
“Relatively.”
“Then, could ya be honest with me on one last thing?”
“Shoot.”
“Do, um… Do it seem like I–I got what it takes ‘ta be your man and… y-y’know, treat ya right if you felt like makin’ me a very lucky guy?”
Your surprise was a pleasant one, and you placed your hand on your chest, flattered. “You that head over heels already?”
“Y–yes, yeah. I’d be stupid not ‘ta be. You… You’re special, y’know? There’s somethin’ ‘boutcha.” His leg was bouncin’, likely an anxious habit that he wasn’t aware of.
“Well,” you began, “I think that if you took me on a very fun, unique date, I’d be willin’ ‘ta consider ya further.”
“I–I can do that! I can! Name a time ‘nd place! You a fan ‘a cars? Trucks?”
“Not much myself, but I wouldn’t mind seein’ yer pretty self behind the wheel.”
He blushed again and muttered under his breath. “Oh, man. Oh, man. Oh man, oh man, oh man…”
Your fingers trailed up his arm and you caressed his cheek with the back of your knuckles. You could feel his slight stubble against your skin, but you found it attractive. “Take a deep breath, sugar.”
He nodded and tried to calm down, but he only got more worked up and bashful. “Real hard ‘ta focus on that with the way you’re bein’ sweet right now.”
You chuckled and teased him. “I can stop.”
“No, n–no, no! Ya don’t have ‘ta, no. I–I like it, I’ll be fine, I’m good. Yeah, I’m good, just– Thinkin’ of a date idea.”
“You ever done this before?”
“N–no, not too much, y’know. Just, not exactly always focused on that stuff… B–but, with you it feels–“
“Natural?”
“Yeah, yeah… Natural. But also not, on account of me bein’ more nervous than a sinner in church.”
“Well, if it makes ya feel better, ya did whatcha came over here ‘ta accomplish.”
He smiled, and for once, the world seemed brighter.
“Blue was never your color, anyway.”