Are You Gonna Be My Man?
Chapter One, The Deal
Desmond hated Thursday evenings.
The night was young and the music blared from the speakers in front of him. Desmond just wished the night would get over with, as he hated working on Thursdays. These nights were the worst of the week and he had constantly asked his boss if we could switch shifts. Every time he asked, he received a stern 'no' and a threat of docking his already low pay. So after a week, Desmond shut up and went back to his position to watch the dance floor spill over with different, colourful people. On Thursday night, Desmond would find himself being constantly asked for his name, even while he was clearly wearing his name tag on his chest. Desmond wouldn't be complaining it was beautiful women who came in every other night, but whenever it was a woman talking to him on Thursday night, they were just asking where the bathroom was or ordering a drink. No flirty conversations or leaning over the counter to let their cleavage spill out.
On Thursday, the women were only interested in the women - much to Desmond's disappointment. Thursday night was a gay night for all the local homosexuals to drop in for a fun pick up or just dance the night away in somewhere they could feel comfortable. As they got comfortable, they got confident and when they got confident, they often seemed to steer their way to Desmond. Often, Desmond rejected the men straight up while some others he felt pity for them, as they had been turned down a few other times during the night, so he declined them graceful awkwardness.
Last week, it had been old music from the 80's and now tonight, it was randomized songs from before two thousand and ten and before; everyone was tired of today's music. At the time, Stamp on the Ground by the ItaloBrothers was causing the people on the dance floor to jump up and down in sync, dancing as if no one else was watching them as they felt the bass line hum through their bodies. Desmond was busy behind the counter, cleaning out shot glasses with a fresh cloth. His eyes scanned the club, looking for any sort of straight lady who might have came with her friend. Or a bisexual woman – which he had a higher possibility he could persuade her into having a threesome with another woman. As he looked, his view was promptly blocked by a rather tall man who slumped into the seat in front of him.
"What'll it be?" Desmond asked monotonously as he set the clean shot glasses in a small cupboard.
"A cosmopolitan," he replied, hanging his head. Another one of the rejected to drown his failure in alcohol, Desmond thought as he readied the drink.
"Not here, Rebecca!" Shaun hissed as he hugged his sides. It was freezing outside but Rebecca didn't seem to mind it one bit.
"Oh please Shaun! This place is wonderful!" She grinned, putting her hands on her hips. "You owe it to me, anyways," she grinned mischievously as she knew she had Shaun trapped. She had saved his ass multiple times and was even planning on saving it a few times more before they went their separate ways in life.
"Why must you always use that excuse? We should be doing research right now instead and-"
"Ah! Not another word! You, Shaun Hastings, run yourself ragged with work. There are such things called breaks. Y'know, where you go out and enjoy life? Unless you've completely forgotten how to do that," Rebecca snapped harshly but her eyes still had a flicker of light humour in them.
"I know how to enjoy life..." Shaun grumbled in reply, looking down at his feet. He adjusted his glasses then looked at the door of the club.
"Well, show me then!" She grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the nightclub without any hesitation. Somehow, the tiny black haired woman had more strength than him and even as he tried to pry himself from her eagle like grip, it was no use. Already, Shaun found himself with his head beginning to throb as the music played louder than it needed to be. He was so used to quiet environments that being in the complete opposite was like throwing a rock into water and expecting it to float – he would not do well here. Rebecca stopped abruptly in front of him, causing the historian to bump into her.
"Hey, watch where you're-"
"I love this song!" Rebecca shouted, her voice nearly drowned in the noise of the deafening techno music. Just as Shaun was about to ask her why she would love such a horrible song, she jumped over to the crowd – already in full party mood. Shaun grumbled as he stepped into the large room, almost blinded by the bright and colourful lights that surrounded him. People were grinding against each other, their sweat coated bodies mixing into what looked like one figure from Shaun's angle. All of a sudden, Shaun's confirmation of his thoughts slapped him hard in the face. No wonder Rebecca had wanted this bar. It was Thursday night and the men wearing feathered boa's, swinging their hips to no end with the women and their short hair and skimpy tops grinding against their own gender. All of a sudden, Shaun felt himself shrink on the spot and he was definitely going to kill Rebecca later.
Desmond watched as a petite woman with short cropped black hair jump onto the dance floor, immediately blending in with the crowd. She must have been here other nights, as she merged perfectly with the group without any of them questioning her sporadic, outgoing behaviour. Without much thought, Desmond's eyes slowly found their selves falling onto a slightly older man who stood in the door like a lost puppy. He didn't look like any of the Thursday night standards but he did have that slight look of femininity. But then again, Desmond had seen plenty of feminine men married to beautiful girls so he couldn't exactly pinpoint this man as gay. The song ended but smoothly transitioned into Bad Romance by Lady Gaga, a song which Desmond had heard over a hundred times in the bar, even it was about three years old.
With slight interest, he watched the man walk over to the bar, completely disregarding the group of people who were having fun. He sat down in front of Desmond and looked up at him.
"You don't look so happy here," Desmond said as he straightened up, meeting the man's eye. He wore thin, black rimmed glasses and not the usual party attire; a sweater vest with a dress shirt underneath and a pair of black slacks. His light brown hair was ruffled, slightly parted to the side in what looked like a quick attempt to style his hair. Desmond suspected gay men often spent hours on their hair, even when they didn't have very much on it. So far, it looked as if this man was playing for the straight team.
"Give me an Apple Martini, if you have that," he replied in a cold, British accent as he pulled out his wallet from the back pocket of his pants.
That was definitely a tip in the gay direction. "Comin' right up," he replied as he turned around to the counter. Already, he saw the bar filing up and as much as he, for some unknown reason, wanted to stay and figure out why this man looked down, he had to attend to other customers as well. His boss wouldn't be so happy if he ignored hundreds of dollars worth of customers. Quickly, he made him his drink, emptying the last of the Vodka bottle in the martini glass. With fluid movements, he pulled out another bottle from the cupboard and served the not-so-straight man his drink before he rushed over to serve his other patrons.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched at the same woman he saw jump onto the scene jump up behind the man, startling him slightly.
Just as Shaun took a sip of his drink, Rebecca jumped on him from behind.
"Hey! What are you drinking?" Rebecca beamed as she took it from his hand, much to his protest. The easiest way to get this night over with was to get drunk and return back to their office, where he could crash on the couch and wake in the morning with a killer hang over. He watched Rebecca take a gulp or two of his drink before she handed it back to him.
"Oh, I like that! What's it called?"
"An apple martini," Shaun replied, grumbling into his green drink, which glowed slightly in the darkness of the club. Occasionally, a light would drop on him and he would be fully visible for anyone to see, not that he expected or hoped that many would look in his direction. He watched as Rebecca leaned against the bar counter and wave her money around in the air. Like a metal detector finding a treasure chest under the ground, he watched the bartender's eyes flicker over to the green in Rebecca's hand and rush over.
"What can I getcha?" He grinned, taking the money from Rebecca's hand.
"What he's having," she beamed as she watched the man turn and began to make her drink. As he turned around with a drink identical to Shaun's, the historian noticed something off. His nametag glowed slightly, with the letterings of his name outlined a light blue. It was peculiar, as his Second Sight usually only worked on texts he had been trying to decipher.
"Desmond, is it?" Shaun spoke, startling both Rebecca and Shaun.
"Yeah, you can read, can't you?" He grinned, flicking his name tag. Shaun had to bite back a usual sarcastic remark he would make to Lucy or any of the other Assassin's he spoke to.
"Of course," he replied with a strained smile. "Do you do anything else than bartend?" Shaun could see the curiosity rising in Rebecca's eyes. They both knew very much Shaun didn't like to talk to other people longer than he needed to and if he was prying for information, he was usually onto something brilliant. Desmond raised his eyebrow.
"No, just work here whenever I can get the shifts. Why, do I know you from somewhere?"
"No, no. I was just merely curious," Shaun managed to keep a straight face, hiding his usual scowl. Why was his name glowing in the colour which would usually be the answer? This man was obviously something important.
"Huh, alright," and with that, he turned back around to continue his job. Once he was out of earshot, Rebecca leaned in closely, breaking Shaun's personal bubble in the process.
"What's with him? Why were you...?"
"His name tag was glowing in blue. You know what that means. That's never happened to me before, at least, not for another person's name!" He replied, finally breaking out into a scowl. It felt more natural.
"Ohh," Rebecca grinned. "You should look deeper into this. Dig your nails into his shoulders and make him yours."
"Wait, what are you getting at, Rebecca?" Shaun frowned at the woman's bright, insidious smile. She was planning something; something Shaun probably wouldn't like.
"I think you should act like one of the Thursday night regulars."
Shaun raised an eyebrow and thought it over. Act like a Thursday regular? What did she mean by... Oh. "What are you, insane? Like bloody hell I'm going to-"
"Oh please. When's the last time you even kissed anyone? Let alone hold a normal conversation with anyone else other than the other Assassins or me?" Rebecca frowned, finally taking the stool next to Shaun and jabbing him in the chest with her free hand.
She did have a damn good point. "Fine. But I'm not acting like him," Shaun pointed to a short man, who was shaking his hips wildly with three different coloured boa's wrapped around his neck and singing to the music with drunken slurs.
"Deal," Rebecca laughed and slapped Shaun on the back before she downed the rest of her drink and joined the mad man on the dance floor.
A/N: Woohoo! I'm going to make this into a multi-chaptered story. Probably only three parts though, since I had the idea for a one shot while I was listening to, Are You Gonna By My Girl by JET. I apologize for this being so long, I didn't mean to make it over two thousand words. Heck, I didn't even plan on having it multi-chaptered. Anyways, it's six in the morning as I wrote this and I just went through editing at seven in the morning so there might be a few mistakes. Anyways, hope you guys enjoy!