Hell and High Water

Author note: 

The thumping of the bass was a mere soft, continuous sound in the dressing room upstairs where a long man prepared his uniform. His shift was starting in a bit and he saw upon entering the nightclub that tonight was going to be long. He was sweating already, thinking of the suffocating heat of dancing bodies pressed together on the dance floor. As he plugged his ears, he left the room and descended the staircase to open a door leading into the dance floor. He slipped into the crowd, struggling despite his large frame to reach the bar. The bass vibrated in his stomach. It made him shiver slightly and he could feel the adrenaline rush through his veins.

He saw people crowding around the bar and knew his shift would be a wary one. Tonight was a special ‘Men’s Night’; all males were free to enter. He spotted a tiny amount of women occupying the club and wished them luck. Men were dominating tonight.

“Bertholdt! Hurry up!” a voice called out to him, his fellow bartenders rushing to serve the people at the bar. The giant nodded at Marco, smiling at the cheerful colleague and leaned over the bar to hear what his first customer of the night wanted.

Just ten minutes into his shift and his shirt was sticking to his body like a second skin. A customer was yelling at him, something he couldn’t understand wearing his plugs, but he figured the wobbling man had drunk a little too much. No one wanted trouble on a night like this, but when Bertholdt motioned for the drunkard to calm down, it had the opposite effect. A hand reached for his collar, gripping it tightly and attempting to yank him over the bar. Bertholdt placed both hands on the bar on impulse, preventing such a thing, but he was caught no matter what.

Beside him Jean began spouting obscenities at the customer. “Hands off, dickhead!” he said, flinging a cloth to wipe glasses with over his shoulder and trying to pry the hand away. When he failed, Jean told Bertholdt to hang on tight. The giant male didn’t need to ask what his colleague was up to when he left his side. Jean disappeared into the crowd and left him and Marco (who resorted to pulling on Bertholdt’s middle striving to set him free) to struggle with the blabbering drunkard until the crowd surrounding the bar parted. Like Moses crossing the Red Sea, Reiner marched with little effort to the man harassing Bertholdt and pulled him away forcefully.

Without the pulling force, Bertholdt stumbled backwards into Marco’s arms, looking over his shoulder to see if the smaller one was hurt when smashing him into the counter behind them. Marco groaned a little, his face showing discomfort as he embraced Bertholdt. “Sorry” he apologized to a wryly smiling Marco. The freckled man squeezed him shortly before removing his arms and sidestepping his large frame to give Jean thumbs up. His idea to get Reiner hadn’t come a moment too soon.

The burly bouncer held one arm in a tight lock behind the wasted man’s back, and turned his head to give a relieved Bertholdt a wink. “Thanks, Reiner” the tall bartender said with a grateful smile. “No sweat, dun want anyone touching you but me, do we?” Reiner replied with a foxy grin. Jean snorted from beside him, suggesting he’d kick the drunkard out and keep from harassing Bertholdt until the night was over. “It aint harassment when he enjoys it” Reiner said loudly for all to hear within three feet to hear. A colour rose to Bertholdt’s cheeks, his ears also crimson red at the exposure of their intimacy.

“Call on me when this happens again, alright?” the blonde powerhouse said more genuine this time.

Bertholdt showed a small smile, nodding in understanding and appreciation of Reiner’s protective nature. There was no doubt in his mind that Reiner’d go through hell and high water for him. Naturally, how could Bertholdt not love him?