He taps his fingers against the top of bar, it's a soft oak wood and a little bit worn.

The wood is chipping slightly, it's not easily visible but Josh is there often enough to realize it, to feel it when he's rubbing his thumb against the edge of the counter, it could use a bit of refurnishing. Along with the chipping, the counter is covered in sharpie. Phone numbers, lyrics, you name it. And you'd think vandalizing the bar top would be discouraged, which it is, however, that doesn't stop Josh from giving out a sharpie to the occasional customer.

Josh is there nearly every day of the week. Not because he wants to but because he can be. He needs money so he picks up as many shifts as he can and he doesn't object to working overtime either. Plus, being a bartender is good, he's good at it and he enjoys it, flirting with customers comes easy to him, he brings in most of his tips that way.

When he serves drinks, he always has the most genuine smile he can muster. And when his co-workers ask if he'll take their shifts he always says yes.

Tonight, Ashley was supposed to come in and unsurprisingly: She never did. There's always supposed to be more than one employee working and it's definitely not regulation to only have him on shift regardless of how busy the bar is.

Josh always takes one for the team though, like tonight and every other night, Josh works his ass off and it shows when his check is just a little bit bigger than his co-workers. His boss likes him for it, he likes him a lot.

Josh ignores the fact that his touches seem to linger when he talks to him, maybe there's a hand on his shoulder, touching his arm or maybe he insists on getting closer then Josh is comfortable with when they talk. He pretends that his boss doesn't want anything from him other than hard work and he pretends that his job is okay, because it is. It's okay. He's okay.

The bar is practically vacant tonight, has been for hours. Josh is playing with a line of five shot glasses. He pokes them with delicate fingers, free hand under his chin in boredom. He moves them, they shuffle and clink together.

There's gentle murmuring. There are twelve people in the bar with him. Twelve customers. He'd counted them all already, then he'd played that game where you make up a life story for someone based off of their actions. He'd already served them all too, a few beers, a few vodkas and one scotch.

There's only one girl, she's sat alone, drinking her breakup away, Josh can tell. In fact, he's sure of this. She's solemn, her hair is a mess, her voice was wavering when she requested five shots of vodka and she had cried out the name Adam three times already. She's still crying, blonde hair getting in her eyes, makeup running down her cheeks. she looked tired, her eyes red and puffy.

He'd already checked up on her twice and cut her off from any more alcohol. She hadn't complained, she'd thanked him and Josh had patted her shoulder like he knew her.

She was more interesting than everyone else and she kept drawing his attention with her sobs and little sniffs.

The group of men watching sports on the one tv the bar had, they were louder, they were drinking beers. Josh ignores them. Mostly because he doesn't particularly like them, they've been here for an hour. Not very long, he assumes they'll come by an ask him for a few more beers within the next thirty minutes.

The door opens and there's someone new. It's no surprise. It's only nine, he assumes there will be a few more people that'll come in and that'll be it for the night.

Josh looks up, he stands up straight, adjusting his bad posture when the person comes in. He can't not check to see who it is. He's bored and entertainment is sparse tonight.

The man is pretty, he looks soft. He's definitely not a regular and Josh can't recall a single time he's seen him. His head is shaved, his cheeks are flushed and there's bright paint staining the arms of his jacket, starting right at the end of his sleeves. Josh thinks it's paint at least, he's not sure.

He knows that if he ever showed up to work like that he'd get in trouble.

Pretty boy as Josh has decided to call him stumbles forward, his jean jacket practically falls off of him, there's a hole in it on one side, obvious from the angle he's standing at now.

His eyes scour, they meet Josh's, he smiles, he nods. Josh does the same but he doesn't look away when the man does.

The man, he scratches at the scruff on his face and then he searches, eyes squinting at the loud group of guys towards the left.

A look of disgust, a roll of his eyes. he turns, inquisitively and misses Josh's eyes.

Josh watches curiously, not too obviously.

He watches as the man's eyes light up, he watches him glance at the crying girl and he watches him waltz over and sit across from her, arms folding over the table.

The chair scrapes the floor, Josh winces and he looks away. Staring is rude he decides. Josh doesn't stare, Josh is respectful and he's a bartender. He just makes their drinks, he keeps them hydrated with toxicity. The bearer of addiction.

His job isn't to invest into finding out about what his customers are doing with their lives, who they're doing and what their life stories are. Although he's had his fair share of all of those. It happens a lot, it's late, people are sad, they have things they want to say, they have things they need to vent out.

Josh is an open ear, Josh is stuck behind a bar and Josh is a really fucking nice guy.
So he'll listen, he won't give much input but he'll be there and sometimes his heart will ache.

He keeps busy and wipes down the bar with a rag, he cleans up spilt vodka and he hears the crying stop and then he hears the men cheer loud. This isn't a sports bar. he's annoyed but really he can't tell them to shut up.

Josh is used to the tinge of chaos the bar holds, today's been a slow day though. it's Tuesday, no one comes to a bar like this on Tuesdays. There's no drunk hook up's in the bathrooms on Tuesdays, there's no yelling unless cheering counts and Josh can handle the entire bar by himself, he really likes Tuesdays for these reasons. There are a few regulars too, he recognizes them. He knows their drink orders by heart and he knows when they need a cab to bring them home.

Pretty boy is still sat with the girl. Josh notices this when he's wringing out the rag over the sink. Josh stares again, warm water squeezing between his fingers.

The man's fingers are on her wrists now, he's soft and his touches linger. Josh is in disbelief, he lets out a quiet tuft with his tongue.

He watches as he laces his fingers with her's and brushes a strand of hair out of her eyes and he watches the girl blush hard and cover her cheeks with the back of her hand.

She rubs at one of her eyes, mascara smearing some more.

Josh blinks.

Pretty boy is talking to her, he's using the pads of his thumbs to wipe tears from her under her eyes.

She laughs, Josh can hear her. He stares, he watches. Maybe it's a little bit rude at this point. His fingers curl around the rag and he drops it into the sink, bobbing his head slightly.

He sighs and finds his phone, he shouldn't be watching so intensively. His fingers twist along the hem of his white button up. His phone is set beside a bottle of scotch he hadn't put away.

He changes the playlist, something smoother. Fingers tapping through spotify, he finds something titled 2017 sucks. He lets out a faint laugh and he clicks on it, music on the speakers instantly changing. it's slow, it doesn't make sense to play in this bar. Everything's fast here. Josh decides he likes it anyways and sets his phone back down, he turns up the volume a bit and music resonates from the large speakers spaced around, drilled to the walls.

Pretty boy glances over at him, tilts his head just slightly and Josh gulps and diverts his attention to his own hands.

He looks back up and the man's attention is not on him anymore, he's now leaning over the table, a hand on the blonde's shoulder, lips by her ear as she crosses her legs. The girl crosses her legs tightly and Josh can't help but wonder what the man is saying to her. She was just crying five minutes ago, she was a complete mess and now her face is beet red and she's flustered.

Josh can tell.

They both get up, the man grabs her wrist gently, he tugs her forward, he laughs and pulls the girl closer, a hand around her waist. He looks back at Josh and he winks and then they're both gone out the door and Josh purses his lips and furrows his brows.

That was the fastest he'd ever seen a guy pick someone up. Fastest he'd seen anyone get another person in bed, completely sober. At least that's what he can assume so far, it makes the most sense at the moment so he just marks it off as a hook up.

Josh probably should've stopped him he decides. The poor blonde was vulnerable and the poor blonde just got swooped away and charmed to do god knows what. Josh can only imagine what they'll be doing, he feels only slightly guilty for thinking it.

He feels stupid that maybe he's a little bit jealous.

A group of people walk in, already laughing. Already giggling and Josh sighs and gets back to work.

*

Josh walks home in the dark, thick sweater hanging loose of his torso. he counts his steps, then his breaths and he doesn't think about how much he hates the night. It's too cold and it makes him anxious to be walking through the city even if it just to the bus station. He's out late enough that he has the right to be nervous, it's 1AM.

His cats greet him when he gets home, Oscar meows and Bear struts past him and rubs against his leg.

There's one light one, It's the lamp in the living room he hadn't bothered turning off. It's standing beside the couch and that's the only thing allowing him to see his cats properly.

He sighs and shuts it off and he toes off his shoes as he walks around his small apartment. A sense of safety in the air.

He fills Oscars food dish, then Bear's and he sets them on opposite sides of the kitchen floor to keep his cats civil.

They meow contently and Josh sighs again, he pulls off his sweater and begins loosening the buttons of his dress shirt that he'd hidden underneath as he shuffles to his bedroom.

Pretty boy is on his mind when gets into bed. when he pulls the sheets over himself.

He thinks about his hands, his eyes, his body, the way he touched that girl. He made her go red. He probably brought her home and........yeah he really shouldn't be thinking about this. He's normally not in the habit of fantasizing about strangers.

But he is, he's fantasizing about him, having sex with him, he really should be.

Josh wants to.

Josh wonder's how he is in bed.

Josh comes with a groan and a hand down his briefs.

He's not embarrassed.

*

Josh is busy, he's rounding up drinks for a group of smiling girls. He's smiling at them too, they're trying to flirt with him. They bat their eyelashes, they touch him when he passes them their drinks. They try.

He's dismissive of them though, not interested in the slightest, he waves them off and as he walks around the back of the bar to grab a bottle of tequila. Carefully twirling a loose strand of red hair around his finger and whistling something under his breath.

It's busy this time, It's loud. The atmosphere is tiring and it's Friday. The bar stools are all occupied except for one and there's nowhere else to sit. All the booths are full, all the couches are too. Josh would say the bar was completely full except Friday nights are nothing compared to Saturday nights.

Saturday nights are when he gets home at 3 am because people refuse to leave. Saturday nights are when he falls asleep the moment he hits the bed and he curls up into his blanket, still in his work clothes. Everyone's a lot more rough, more careless on Saturday's. There's three people working the bar, and his boss is usually there to keep an eye on things because really it's needed.

He refills cups, he keeps tabs on a few people, he smiles and smiles and smiles because Josh is charming. Josh is good at his job and he knows that by being nice is how he's going to get tips, that's how he's gonna get people telling him to "Keep the change."

Money rolls in, he keeps conversations going. People spin on the bar stools, he laughs and he rolls his sleeves up exposing his tattoos when he starts sweating a bit too much.

He receives compliments too, a guy with blue eyes tells him he looks hot. He nods and tells him he's cute because he is.

They talk a bit, but Josh doesn't think blue eyes is willing to wait for him to get off his shift so he gives him a beer on the house as an apology.

He sees him leave the bar twenty minutes later, an arm around a short boy.

People come and go, Josh is constantly moving. He handles the simpler stuff, Ashley who had decided to show up for work for once is making cocktails. The ones Josh is too lazy to learn how to do. He tells everyone he'd suck at them anyways, so no one tries to force him to learn.

The music isn't loud enough anymore, everyone talks over it. Josh wonders what types of conversations are being held. Although he works at a bar, spends almost all of his time at a bar. Rarely taking a day off even though he only needs to work 4 times a week.

he barely goes out to bars with friends. it's ironic in his opinion.

He's pouring shots of tequila when another gorgeous man walks in. Josh's eyes lock on the door and follow him as he strides to the left, he blinks and what the fuck, where are they all coming from.

His palms go flat on the countertop, no piercing voices screaming for alcohol are heard.

He's got glasses, thick rimmed, it's almost endearing and Josh catches the way the man pushes them up the bridge of his nose. Dark hair, raven dark, and Josh pinches his wrist and stops staring. He scolds himself, he's rude for staring. He tells himself he'll make people uncomfortable.

He doesn't want that, so he tops off some girl's glass. She's hanging off the bar, boobs pushed up high and josh smiles at her. She sets down a twenty dollar bill.

He smiles again, grabs it and she shrugs.

Josh trips over his own feet and things get busy again. his shoelaces untie, he ignores them and ignores how annoying it is to walk around with one of his shoes practically falling off of his foot.

He tops off another three glasses and things calm down. Ashley's taking over now, she's stopped making cocktails, she's greeting customers quickly with perky chatter.

Josh takes a glance at the tv, men surround it. It's typical, and it's just a rerun from last night game. No one seems to notice.

His eyes meet the strangers and it's déjà vu, reminds him of pretty boy.

This guy is taller, not at all like the other man. His shoulders are a bit broader and his posture isn't great, he's just slightly slumped over. Josh looks at him quickly, he keeps looking back at him, searching his eyes, they don't meet his so his gaze drops to his torso and Josh squints his eyes just in the slightest and chews on his lip.

He's wearing a jean jacket with a hole in it.

It's more of a tear now that he sees it. Josh is leaning against the bar to get a better look, the guy is already talking to someone. The tear is right by the armpit and unmistakably it's the same jacket the man he'd seen only four days ago had been wearing. Albeit a bit tighter on this guy, it had been loose on the brunet but it's the same one.

He remembers it well.

Josh gets back to work, mind shifting. it's weird he thinks. Maybe it's not the same jacket. What if he'd stolen it from pretty boy? now that was a question.

He wasn't going to impose anything.

Painfully Josh drags his attention back to work, he longs to get another glance at this new guy. His clean cut hair, sharp jawline and his jacket. He wanted to see it again.

A man with a scruff beard grabs his attention, he taps his credit card against the counter.

"Champagne." He says. he's smug. Josh wonders why he's at such a crap bar but he smiles politely, a fake grin.

Josh shakes his head yes and pulls on his sleeves and he's pacing the back of the bar eyes searching the shelves because apparently champagne is now a thing he's required to take out for the night. he pops it open quickly, passing Ashley, eyes scanning bar stools as he pours the man a glass of champagne.

He sees the new stranger again as he places the glass of champagne down and he can't believe his eyes. He hadn't looked away very long, Josh is sure of it.

He's got two guys hanging onto him, tugging on his sleeve, kissing his neck and Josh hadn't even realized they were in there. He hadn't seen them before.

Josh is jealous. he wants to get laid. he wants, he wants, he wants.

His fingers aren't enough.

And he's sure, he's positive that beautiful stranger number two hadn't even gotten a drink from the bar. He hadn't ever came close enough, He was by the couches when Josh was trying his best not to be creepy. he was by the couches the entire time with an empty hand.

Josh is dumbfounded, he blinks a few times and stares down at his hands. He traces his fingers together and then he lets go and his palms go flat on the cold counter top again.

Two guys, same jacket, both pick up strangers to fuck and they both succeed.

Josh assumes so anyways, that's all he can really do.

He watches them start to leave curiously, there's three of them and he just, just catches this new strangers eye again as he starts for the door and looks at the bar one last time right before he walks out.

It's a quick stare down, Josh's mouth draws open.

The stranger smirks and Josh doesn't know what it means.

All three of them leave together.

Josh wants that too.