#modern!halfdan

Him. Again. Plain and simple, your boyfriend had finally done it this time. This time you meant it when you left with a swelling right eye. This bar just happened to be the darkest one you had come across and by God, you needed a drink and fast.

"What'll it be?" A napkin in place of a fancy coaster is slid in front of you and you look up. A deep pair of inquiring honey-brown eyes are searching your face, waiting for both an answer and explanation.

"Oh, uhm, strongest thing you have. Top shelf, please." You're already beginning to gather the money needed to pay for this liquid therapy. A snort of a laugh makes you look up suddenly though, frowning already at the attitude.

"Lady, top shelf here doesn't exist, but I know just what you need. Tequila, straight up with a splash of lime. Trust me."

He wasn't condescending in tone but in your fragile state it still made you both frustrated and teary eyed. You quickly wipe at your eyes and flinch at the contact. "And a raw steak as well..." you mutter under your breath and put a $50 on the bar counter.

"You wouldn't want that either. Again, trust me." He laughs from his belly this time and nods towards the lame kitchen doors. "Food here'll give you poisoning faster than the drinks."

This gets you to smile small and thank him for the drink, "keep 'em coming. I'd rather not feel this tonight."

Taking the money from you, the man pauses for a better glimpse under the dim lights. They're enough to hide from but he knew better. "You runnin' from this guy?"

Shaking your head you take a gulp of the harsh liquor and hiss, "I wouldn't say running, exactly..."

"But?" He holds up a finger to an already drunk man down the way, signaling that he'd have to wait just a minute longer.

Another gulp, another hiss and you look into his eyes, "I need to get away. I need to hide and this place seemed the perfect fit for that. No offense meant, by the way."

He shakes his head with a large grin forming on his lips. "None taken. I'm Halfdan, by the way."

"Interesting name." you begin with your own introduction to the strange man behind the bar. You take another gander and only then do you see that his face is covered in an intricate and intriguing tattoo. The ink was slightly faded and looked to be a shade of blue... or was it black? In these lights the details were easily blurred into obscurity so you just shrug off the color and continue with your drink, noting that Halfdan had left the bottle on the bar. He'd left to help another patron with his needs.

With him helping the drunk male you take it upon yourself to grab the bottle and fill your glass up, smiling to yourself as the liquid courses through your system. Your eye would hurt like hell in the morning, but for now you were content.

"Mark, I told you, you're at your limit." Halfdan swears under his breath as he walks back to where you're sitting and raises an eyebrow at the bottle plopped in front of you. "And you..." He begins slyly, playfully taking it back and grabbing another, stronger tequila. "This is what you'd rather have, I'm guessing."

You finally omit a laugh and nod with enthusiasm, "what happened to no top shelf?"

"That's mostly for people like him," he points with his head, the hair that sits to only one side oglf his head swaying with the movement. "Mark! Go on, get!"

The two men have words and as Halfdan jumps the bar to escort drunk Mark out you watch his build. Slim was the first thing you notice, his tight black t-shirt clinging to his sweating body. Dark blue jeans cling to his hips legs. You stare a moment longer at his ass before raising your brows in appreciation, turning back to the alcohol in front of you.

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"So you've been with this guy 6 months, think it's true love, he's jealous and finally he beats you?" Plopping a peanut into his mouth, Halfdan blows out a breath and shakes the hair from his eyes. "Shit."

The bar is empty now and the time is late. You both have been sharing the bottle of tequila and have moved to a booth. It's shabby, torn and red in color but it's much more comfortable than the stool you'd been sitting on before. A small bowl of peanuts sits in front of you that's being shared and you snort out a laugh now.

"In a nutshell," a peanut is held up with a smile, "that's what happened." And into your mouth it goes. Halfdan watches the movement with wry fascination before he talks again.

"You deserve better than a raw steak on your eye, ya know." He motions with a finger the the very piece of raw meat that he'd gotten out for you. Noting how brown and out of date the steak had been though, you politely had rejected.

You both take a shot and wash it down with the juice of half a lime, licking salt off of the opposite hand and laugh together at the synchronization of your actions.

The old jukebox plays a slower song and you sigh, closing your eyes and letting your head fall down and you groan.

"Ahh, nope. I don't think so, not on my watch." Halfdan slams his hands on the booth table and stands up, swaying slightly. "C'mon then, darling, let's dance the pain away. I'm not good at it but I'll try."

You take his outstretched hand and stand as well, walking with the taller man to the so-called dance floor, laughing at the scuffed linoleum. "I'm sure you dance fine." Your words slur and he wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you close.

Your own arms wrap around Halfdan and his chin comes to rest on your head. The room sways with both your movements and the alcohol. A tear or two slides down your cheeks as you think of how nice this strange man is, far more kind than your ex-boyfriend.

"Halfdan..." you begin and as you move to look up, his glossy eyes catch your own. He looks from your eyes to your mouth and back again. The though crosses your mind as well and with so much of the liquid courage flowing through you both, you take the first move and kiss him.

He breaks away first, standing away from you now with both hands up in surrender, "I don't know..." He mutters your name and shakes his head before you take full control. Lightning courage has you in its hold as you close the distance.

"For some strange reason, Halfdan the Bartender... I trust you. Make me feel good. Better than I already do. Please."

He heaves a sigh and takes your hands in his, leading you to the door at the front, where he locks up, turns back and motions to you to follow him now, dropping your hands.

There's an upstairs to the bar hidden in the kitchen with slim, creaking stairs. A door stands in front of you as Halfdan works the locks, opening the stained door to a rather lovely living room.

"So," Halfdan admits sheepishly as he scratches the shaved side of his head, "Welcome to my place. Let's get comfortable."

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