Aubade | J.J.K FF ✔

2.4

you worked as a bartender at a nightclub, the place always packed when it came down to your shift from eight to four in the morning. your job was...interesting, to say the least. 

you saw lots of people and were able to tell what type they were by a glance or by the drink they would order. the flashy types who tries to woo their partner with expensive reds and whites. the ones who had no idea what to order and would just ask for a rum and cola. or the experimental types, always asking for bizarre, fruity, colorful cocktails that they loved to drink with a paper umbrella. those were your favorites.

of course, the people you hated the most were the ones who tried to slip things down drinks. you would switch their drinks instead, watching as the offender became increasingly incapacitated while the victim roamed around unaware.

while you noticed a lot of people, not many noticed you. yes, you got the occasional drunk asking for a name and number or the one who likes to try and get into your pants with a well-versed pick-up line that didn't work on the first five that you were able to watch.

safe to say, you went under the radar most times, mixing up drinks or pouring straight vodka on the rocks. 

while you didn't hate the gig at the bar, you didn't really love it, either. loud noises mixed with drunk people and crazy strobe lights were enough to give you headache after headache that your trusty aleve couldn't fix.

but the money was good and kept rolling in with different forms, a pay check or a heavy tip from someone who just really liked the drink. 

you get ready for your job, slipping on a pair of black, distressed jeans and a black button up that was rolled at the sleeves, the top button undone. your boss didn't care for attire as long as it was black and didn't distract from mixing drinks.

phone in pocket and keys in the others, you throw on a light jacket and head to the bar, the place mainly empty with a couple people going around and tidying things up, re-positioning a table and wiping off the booths.

you get to the back, hanging your jacket on the hook before wiping down the bar with a rag, giving a coworker a polite smile as your roaming eyes meet theirs. she nods back, disappearing into the numerous rooms that people went into with their newest--or first!--conquest(s).

making sure everything is in order, you roll your neck and stretch your arms, knowing that you won't get a chance to when the party really shows up.

and show up they do.

with yells of affection and dirty pick-up lines and a swirl of their hips against someone else's, they all show up, one then five then twenty.

the bar is packed and you're in your element, a quick flash of a smile at the sight of a tip and quick eyes helping you switch out drinks. a coworker leans against the bar form your side, nodding at the people drinking before glancing at you.

"bora, you wanna chill for a bit or you good?"

"i'm fine," you answer, wiping your palms down the front of your pants and meeting her eyes with a small smile. "you good?"

the girl nods before disappearing once more, and you focus back on the drinks. 

the switched drinks count stays at one, thankfully, and the drinks never go down, your coworker flitting in and out with more bottles when you run out, wine and rum and whiskey all going into their places.

"can i have a --wait a minute," a familiar deep voice says from across the bar that separates you from everyone else. 

eyes glancing up, you stop and stare.

that's a surprise.