(no subject)
Author's Note: For fullonobiwan who requested a (You Tell Me)Barfight!Miles. Special thanks to daughterof_evil for the idea.
How had he gotten here again?
Miles wasn't sure. He was sober, he knew that. Unfortunate, but true. There were people flying backwards and forwards, smashing into things, he knew that too. People hitting other people, smashing bottles of alcohol over each other's heads, and that tall Skinhead was cracking a chair over some poor guy's back. A barfight. An average Friday night.
But there was supposed to be a focus here. Somehow, in the middle of all this, he'd wound up hitting other people. And there was definitely a guy he was supposed to be hitting specifically. Some asshole pretty boy jerk off who'd been giving him shit. That was what he'd been supposed to be doing.
So where was the guy? This'd only gotten started so he could kick his ass, where was-- "Ow! Fuck!" He turned around and solidly decked the guy who'd actually hit him in the back. Who the fuck did that anymore?! And why--
There was the guy!
"Hey!"
The guy whirled to face him after knocking out the one in front of him, and grinned. "There you are!" He came after him. Apparently they'd been thinking the same thing. Which worked for Miles just fine.
They both raised their fists, all set to come to blows, and Miles heard a smash. Glass. The guy stopped, stumbling forward, and dropped his fist. "What the..."
It took Miles a second -- and another to duck out of the way of another chair being swung, what was it, a fucking trend now? -- to realize what'd happened. Someone'd thrown a shotglass at the guy. Some jackass sitting at the bar watching it all had decided to join in on the fun.
Miles knew what it was like to get hit in the head with a shotglass. That was a cheap fucking shot. And when it'd happened to him, it was unintentional. This prick had done it on purpose! He went to Guy He'd Originally Wanted to Kick the Shit Out Of, and caught his arm. "You okay?"
"Yeah, yeah..."
"Good. Stay there." He went past him, and up to the dipshit at the bar. The guy was still laughing, obviously drunk, and got up to take a swing at him. Miles grabbed his head and pushed him back as into the bar, slammed it against the wood, then shoved him off.
When he turned around again, Guy Who'd Been Hit With a Shotglass had apparently gotten his bearings back, beacuse he was fighting again. Although there were too many guys going at him, and with the hit he just took, he wasn't going to last for long. After he'd taken a second to admire how good he was, Miles was almost offended for him. He knew there was a reason he'd stopped coming to this bar. Assholes.
Moving quickly back to help, Miles hit the closest guy going after Guy Who Wasn't So Bad After All, and socked him in the stomach. He glanced over, and the guy looked amused with him.
"You do this often?"
"Every now and again." Enough to know he'd be icing down his knuckles for the next two days. Fuck, that last one had an iron jaw on him.
"I can tell. Hey, on your right!"
Miles turned quickly, and ducked from a blow by Skinhead Chairswinger. He backed up a few steps after sending an uppercut to the guy's jaw, and looked over his shoulder quickly to see if he'd have to defend himself.
Instead, he found himself back to back with Guy Who Looked Twice as Amused as Miles Currently Was. They grinned at each other, and turned to face the rest. "Miles!" He yelled over his shoulder, loud enough for Guy Who Was Now Former Opponent to hear.
"Dean!"
Good. He'd made yet another friend under violent circumstances. He could see a pattern developing here. Miles just hoped this one had a getaway car in case someone called the cops again. It'd be such a bitch to have to face that judge a second time.
And here comes another chair...
How had he gotten here again?
Miles wasn't sure. He was sober, he knew that. Unfortunate, but true. There were people flying backwards and forwards, smashing into things, he knew that too. People hitting other people, smashing bottles of alcohol over each other's heads, and that tall Skinhead was cracking a chair over some poor guy's back. A barfight. An average Friday night.
But there was supposed to be a focus here. Somehow, in the middle of all this, he'd wound up hitting other people. And there was definitely a guy he was supposed to be hitting specifically. Some asshole pretty boy jerk off who'd been giving him shit. That was what he'd been supposed to be doing.
So where was the guy? This'd only gotten started so he could kick his ass, where was-- "Ow! Fuck!" He turned around and solidly decked the guy who'd actually hit him in the back. Who the fuck did that anymore?! And why--
There was the guy!
"Hey!"
The guy whirled to face him after knocking out the one in front of him, and grinned. "There you are!" He came after him. Apparently they'd been thinking the same thing. Which worked for Miles just fine.
They both raised their fists, all set to come to blows, and Miles heard a smash. Glass. The guy stopped, stumbling forward, and dropped his fist. "What the..."
It took Miles a second -- and another to duck out of the way of another chair being swung, what was it, a fucking trend now? -- to realize what'd happened. Someone'd thrown a shotglass at the guy. Some jackass sitting at the bar watching it all had decided to join in on the fun.
Miles knew what it was like to get hit in the head with a shotglass. That was a cheap fucking shot. And when it'd happened to him, it was unintentional. This prick had done it on purpose! He went to Guy He'd Originally Wanted to Kick the Shit Out Of, and caught his arm. "You okay?"
"Yeah, yeah..."
"Good. Stay there." He went past him, and up to the dipshit at the bar. The guy was still laughing, obviously drunk, and got up to take a swing at him. Miles grabbed his head and pushed him back as into the bar, slammed it against the wood, then shoved him off.
When he turned around again, Guy Who'd Been Hit With a Shotglass had apparently gotten his bearings back, beacuse he was fighting again. Although there were too many guys going at him, and with the hit he just took, he wasn't going to last for long. After he'd taken a second to admire how good he was, Miles was almost offended for him. He knew there was a reason he'd stopped coming to this bar. Assholes.
Moving quickly back to help, Miles hit the closest guy going after Guy Who Wasn't So Bad After All, and socked him in the stomach. He glanced over, and the guy looked amused with him.
"You do this often?"
"Every now and again." Enough to know he'd be icing down his knuckles for the next two days. Fuck, that last one had an iron jaw on him.
"I can tell. Hey, on your right!"
Miles turned quickly, and ducked from a blow by Skinhead Chairswinger. He backed up a few steps after sending an uppercut to the guy's jaw, and looked over his shoulder quickly to see if he'd have to defend himself.
Instead, he found himself back to back with Guy Who Looked Twice as Amused as Miles Currently Was. They grinned at each other, and turned to face the rest. "Miles!" He yelled over his shoulder, loud enough for Guy Who Was Now Former Opponent to hear.
"Dean!"
Good. He'd made yet another friend under violent circumstances. He could see a pattern developing here. Miles just hoped this one had a getaway car in case someone called the cops again. It'd be such a bitch to have to face that judge a second time.
And here comes another chair...