#pub brawl

Next installment of the  Giorraíonn beirt bóthar series

Summary: Leaving Ireland and the Tenth Street Reds behind him, Caleb Shepard finds a new life in the Alliance military.  Presented with a chance to fulfill one of his dreams, sniper school, he thinks nothing can stand in his way.  Until he meets his roommate, an unexpected rival and a man who can jeopardize everything he’s worked towards so far in his career…

Coats drops onto his bunk, relaxing back against the pillow.  “So, what’s a Paddy like you doing in the Alliance?”

Caleb swallows tightly.  Only his bed, about three additional feet between them, and his ability to keep his temper in check separate him from the Englishman. Silently, he debates whether or not he can make the distance in one leap.  Ideally, he wants to yank the man’s tongue out so he can’t speak; instead, a tight smile forms at his lips but doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he sacrifices that whim to keep his dream alive.  For now.  “Same as anyone else, I expect …”

Chapter: Keep the Dream Alive

Chapter Summary: New assignment.  New people.  Old experiences.  aka:  An Irishman and an Englishman walk into a pub ... and a brawl ensues.

Characters:  Caleb Shepard, (Ryan) Coats, David Anderson

Tags: angst, military backstory, Earthborn background, sniper school/training, military training, Irish vs. English, national pride, Irish language, pub brawl

Author’s Note: HUGE thanks to @nightmarestudio606​ and @mallaidhsomo​ for their betaing skills and suggestions!

Excerpt:

Tonight, Caleb heads for a small table against the far wall he tends to occupy whenever he visits; out of sight, out of mind, he hopes. He has no interest in being poked fun at, but neither is he willing to walk away from an opportunity to relax after a long day of training.  He’s got his right to it just as readily as the others, even if he prefers to indulge in a quieter manner.

Unfortunately, tonight appears to be the one night the rest of the pub cares less about his wants and desires than their own.  

It begins innocently enough.  As he’s done each visit over the past three weeks since arriving, Caleb waits until Coats and company head over, gives himself an extra half hour, then follows.  

The barman, an older woman by name of Ellen tonight, pulls him a pint – they have Guinness on tap tonight, as it turns out – and he heads for his usual table.  It only seats two, so chances are it’s free since most people here come in groups of four or more.  But as he rounds the end of the bar, one of the locals – a young man, large and burly, mop of curly dark hair and a hint of drunken mischief in his brown eyes – knocks into Caleb’s shoulder jerking it to his right and spilling half the contents. Caleb tries to catch himself and the pint, or at the very least avoid the table nearby, but with no such luck. Some unfortunate sod gets drenched.

That sod just happens to be his roommate. Accident or not doesn’t matter; Coats is on his feet and in Caleb’s face in less time than it takes to blink.  Caleb has a couple of inches on the Englishman, but Coats is broader in the shoulders.  

“How’d a blind Mick like you make it this far bein’ so clumsy?” Coats challenges as he shakes the beer out of his hair and off his shoulders. 

~~~~~

So I totally spaced Six Sentence Sunday yesterday.  Oops!  However, I did manage a new part of a scene in Caleb Shepard’s upcoming fic, Young & Proud, so here’s a bit of the very rough draft...

I swear, the summary of this story will be:  An Irishman and an Englishman walk into a pub ... and a brawl ensues ...

~~~

The barman – an older woman by name of Ellen tonight – pulls him a pint of Guinness and he heads for his usual table. Chances are it’s free – only space for two there, and most people here come in groups of four or more.  But as he rounds the end of the bar, one of the locals – a young man, large and burly – knocks into Caleb’s shoulder jerking it to his right and spilling half the contents onto Coats’ shoulder.  Intentional or not doesn’t matter; Coats is on his feet and in Caleb’s face in less time than it takes to blink.  He’s got a couple of inches on the Englishman, but Coats is broader in the shoulders.  

“How’d a blind Mick like you make it this far?” Coats challenges.

Caleb isn’t one to back down from a fight, fair or not, especially to a bloody Sassenach who isn’t aware enough of his surroundings to realize it wasn’t his fault.  Still, he doesn’t want to lose his spot here, his chance at his dream, and he isn’t the type to stir up trouble unless he has no other choice.  Holding his free hand up, palm out while juggling the pint upright in the other, he tells him, “Don’t be thick!  It wasn’t on purpose – someone pushed into me!”

He doesn’t take his eyes off Coats’ and sees the fist headed his way without any trouble.  He has half a second to make a conscious decision to stay still or duck out of range, all the while he can hear the others protesting and jumping up to Coats’ defense.  Cursing a blue streak in his head, Caleb braces himself for the impact …

There’s a resounding roar around him when the fist connects with his jaw that grows exponentially in volume along with the pain in his jaw.  Instinct has him moving his lower jaw to make sure it still works – it does, though painfully – but he clamps down on retaliating.  

“A likely story!”

Internally, Caleb grimaces.  He has no idea how much Coats’ has had to drink at this point.  And then he takes a hit to his mid-section that tosses the pint from his hand completely as he doubles over.  More shouts, space is created, a few more slurs echo around him.  Caleb ignores it all, snaps his head back up and keeps his eyes focused on the man before him.  There’s an intense gleam in the light blue eyes, one that suggests the man has just been waiting for the opportunity.  Bastard!  You’re going to ruin this chance for the both of us!

This time when the punch comes, Caleb’s prepared and he uses his forearm to block the swing.  Hand to hand combat might not be his forte, but he knows enough to defend himself reasonably well.  And he does. Until Coats connects to his left temple, far too close to his eye for comfort.  That’s when Caleb gives in and goes on the offensive.

It's as if a switch has been thrown.  Dodging out of range of yet another fist, this one aiming for his right shoulder, Caleb swings around and jabs at the man’s lower back near his kidneys. He’s surprised at how satisfying it is to hear the Englishman grunt in surprise, but he doesn’t dwell on it.  Instead, he keeps moving.  When one of their classmates attempts to intervene, Caleb sweeps a leg out and knocks him to the ground.  

Coats rubs his arm across his face to clear it just as Caleb jabs a knee to his groin area.  The man groans, hunches over even as Caleb grapples him around his shoulders, muttering, “You fight dirty, Shepard.”  He then follows it with a sharp hit to Caleb’s ribs.

Caleb takes the hit and bites back a groan; no sense giving the man the satisfaction.  “So do you, Coats.”

Anjali denies getting into pub brawl

Actress Anjali today denied involvement in a drunken brawl in a Hyderabad pub. There has been news that Anjali has created ruckus at Liquids Pub in Banjara Hills road no 1, Hyderabad. It’s been buzzed that Anjali allegedly entered into a brawl with a journalist. It also said she used abusive language against the management until they had finally complained the police. Now Anjali has finally given…

When I'm by myself I hate most things.

Movies. I like to watch movies by myself.

I hate my own morals. I don't really want to hook up with anyone, because the only person I feel attracted to at this time is an impossibility. And even though I know that and try to change my thinking for my own sake.... I don't know what I'm getting at here.

I hate it how everyday there's that moment just before I sleep, and just as I wake up. Before I sleep I feel everything collapse and all other emotions give way to this defeated self pity. Just as I wake up I am reminded. Reminded of all the bullshit I have to deal with. Opinions are over-rated. I should tell you of this dream I had last night after I had been in town drinking.

It was me and Adam, and for some reason Adam was 18, so we were at a bar listening to music. Then the band left to go next door because the crowd went there. Then we went looking for smokes or something, and I ran into Sam. Sam first off is a fictional character that I have never met through the physical or dreaming world before in my life. But I had taken every negative aspect of everyone I dislike and put it into the one entity of Sam. I don't even like the name Sam. I think it's kind of a shitty name and I have no real reason to dislike it. Now Sam was following us around, giving us grief for drinking and smoking. Cock-blocking me and my friends, talking in riddles and lies. Shoving people, being an alpha dick head in general.

Eventually he starts shoving me and directing all this fuck headedness towards me.