Warning, stronger language than usual.
••••••

You step inside the pub, kind of a quiet, secluded pub away from the busy streets of town, as it looked like it was meant to be. The walls were a tan shiplap with framed pictures of people chugging beers; contestants who have won the beer-chugging-contest, and pictures of bands who have performed on the small stage that was set up in the far back of the pub, and antiques scattered against the wall. It was a very welcoming vibe.

You scanned the room to where you were supposed to meet him, and finally spot him in a booth, sipping on a glass of wine, while tapping his fingers on the table, probably waiting for you.

Finally, you sigh out of happiness, simply because of the pure sight of seeing him, and you make your way over to him.

You arrive at his table and seeing you, he smiles with a wide grin, scooting out of his seat ready to give you a big hug.

"Hello, darling!" He exclaims, stretching his arms out to hug you.

You smile as you engulf Freddie into a big hug, smiling as you embrace his warmth.

"Sorry that I'm a bit late, my mum called me at the last second before I left the house," you said, taking off your coat, letting the heat from the inside of the pub warm you up.

"Oh don't worry about it, its all good, " he said in a very happy tone. He was just ecstatic to see you.

You nod and sit down into the booth in front of Freddie, and he does the same, in front of you.

He takes a brief sip of his wine before setting it down and smiles at you. "So, tell me about your day, " he says all goofy like, smiling very brightly.

You sigh, placing your hands in front of you, trying to think of something interesting to tell him. You didn't really think anything could be greater than his stories.

"Well," you started, unsurely. "I woke up, ate some breakfast, then I went to work. Oh God, I had the worst day at work today, " you murmured, now remembering an incident that happened, even though it didn't ruin your whole day. You just had to spice it up a bit.

Freddie's eyes widened, leaning in. "Oh goodness, do tell."

"Well, I was working the fitting booths today, and I let people into their rooms, and I put up the clothes that people don't like, y'know, that kind of stuff."

"Right."

"Yeah, so today I was doing exactly that, sitting at the counter in front of the dressing booths, when suddenly I hear this loud, disgusting sound like someone is taking a shit, " you tell him, whispering that last bit.

Freddie chuckles, having an idea of what's coming up. "No!"

You laugh. "Yes! And I ignore it, thinking it was nothing for some odd reason, and then when the customer came out of the booth, I went in, and saw the most disgusting shit on the floor, with shirts scattered about the room-mind you, one-hundred-pound shirts-with shit stains on them!"

Freddie burst out laughing, clapping his hands in laughter. "Oh God!"

"That's not all, " you continued, laughing as well. "After I saw everything, I immediately informed the manager, and he came to me, and I showed him the mess and do you know what he said to me?"

"What?"

You put your hands on your hips and said in a very mocking voice,"Well, since this is your area, I'm going to have to ask you to clean it up. You can throw away the shirts in the dumpsters behind the shop."

Freddie's eyes widened and his jaw dropped in shock. "That's awful! Why couldn't he just ask the custodian to do it?"

You rolled your eyes, having no clue. "I have no idea. I think my manager secretly hates me, " you huff, looking down at the table.

"No, darling don't think like that, I'm sure he loves you, " Freddie reassures you, grabbing your hands and squeezing them tight to assure you that everything's fine.

You look up and smile at him. "Thank you, Fred."

He smiles back. "No problem dear. Now, why don't you go get yourself a drink and come back and sit with me so we can chat more, huh? I wouldn't want to be drinking by myself, " he chuckles, nodding his head to the bar.

You nod, getting up from your booth and make your way to the bar. You look at the bar and find the only seat open, which happened to be right by a most likely, drunken, stinky man.

You wanted to hold your breath.

"Excuse me, bartender?" You wave your hand to flag him down, but he held up a finger, telling you to wait, as he was in the middle of making a drink. You simply nod, and casually place you hand over your nose, trying to not actually make it obvious that they stink.

You sat there, impatiently waiting for the bartender to hurry up when suddenly you hear somebody clear their throat. Thankfully it wasn't the smelly man.

You turn to him and take in this man's appearance: blue eyes, blonde hair, surprisingly really straight teeth as it isn't common, he's lean, tall, probably around six feet or one meter. He wore a white long-sleeved open-collared shirt with the collar flipped up, and a small gold necklace to compliment his hairy chest, along with jeans, and white shoes.

"Ah, seems like I've got your attention," He says in a very Liverpudlian accent.

You raise an eyebrow. "Apparently." You didn't want to talk to this man at all. Short replies seemed best.

"Well, what's a pretty lady like you doin' down here?"

"Getting a drink, do you mind?" You told him snarkily, turning your head away from him.

"Hey! I'm still talking to you!" He reaches out and grabs your chin, turning you to him.

"Don't touch me!" You snap, shoving his hand off of you.

"Ooh, I like 'em feisty," he says in a low, gruff voice.

You turn your head away from him again, really hoping the bartender would hurry up.

You hear him open his mouth, but just as he was about to say something, the bartender saves the day and walks over to you. "So, what can I get you?"

"I'll have your finest champagne please," you tell him with a kind smile.

"Will do," he replies, walking away to get your drink.

"Now that we're alone again..."

You groaned. "Stop talking to me, you drunken piece of shit."

"Hey! I am not drunk, I'm just intoxicated by you and your pretty piece of ass," he says smoothly, but you roll your eyes in disgust. "Speaking of which, how about we go to my place and do the things I'll tell everyone we did anyway, huh? How does that sound?"

You were about to turn around and slap him when suddenly the bartender comes up and hands you your drink. "Here you are, ma'am. Enjoy your drink. It's on the house, I saw how much trouble this man was giving you, so don't worry about it."

You smile, standing up, taking the glass. "Thank you, I appreciate it."

"(Y/N), is this man giving you trouble?" Says Freddie, standing behind you with his jaw clenched and his arms crossed.

"Yeah, he was but I handled it," you grumble, walking off, expecting Freddie to follow you but he didn't.

You grabbed Freddie's shoulder and pulled him away, walking towards the booth.

"Yeah, walk off, faggot!"

Freddie immediately turned around and crossed his arms. You ran up to Freddie, grabbing his hand, whispering into his ear. "Don't worry about him Freddie, he's drunk. "

"No, I can stand up for myself, go sit down."

"But-"

He gave you an intense glare, telling you that you should probably do what he says.

You nod and make your way back to the booth, feeling helpless.

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah! You heard me, you fucking fag!" He shouted.

"Oh, I suppose you're one as well if you know what that is."

"Are you calling me stupid? I know a fag when I see one! Yeah, I know what you do-prancing up all on stage in sequin leotards-you're one of a kind!"

Freddie huffed, walking straight up to him, careful not to lose his cool. "Well, I'd like to see you try, since you sound like you're such a professional on the topic. Gosh, if I would've known if I was one, I would've consulted you!"

You snickered, always knowing Freddie could take care of himself.

The other guy got silent and furrowed his eyebrows together. "Oh yeah? Well... How about this?!" With horror, you watch as he grabs his drink and chucks it at Freddie, soaking his shirt all over.

"Well... That was uncalled for. If I wanted to get wet, I would've just told you," he shot back with a sly smirk.

The man's rage quickly worsened while everyone just stood there in shock at what was going on, that he quickly threw a punch right into his stomach, causing Freddie to limp over, grabbing his stomach.

"Freddie!" You called out, panicking, rushing over to help him, but a crowd gathered around them faster than you could reach him. Instead of helping the two men, they all stood there chanting, placing bets on who would win.

In the crowd, you could see them unfurl into a massive fight, kicks and punches were being thrown and all sort of violent mannerisms.

"Freddie!" You cried, almost in tears. You hated being so helpless.

Finally, two big burly men came inside the pub, which made you sigh in relief. That had to be security. They both raced inside the pit and pulled both of them out quickly, and sat them in booths, letting the crowd dissipate.

You ran over to Freddie who sat in a booth with his wine glass. "Freddie! Are you alright?!" You ask him, looking at the damage that happened to him. His right eye was pink, probably going to be bruised, his nose was bleeding, his knuckles were chafed and red and scrapes were all over his face.

"I'm fine darling, don't worry about me," He says in a weak voice.

You look at him with worried eyes, squatting on the ground next to him. You reach up and fix his messed up hair and sigh. "Here, drink some of this. It may help."

He nods, taking the glass and sips. "Thank you. Are you okay?"

You nod. "Yes, I'm fine. " You sit there in silence feeling bad for him. "Hey, let's get you home."

He nods. "Good idea."

••••••

Hope you enjoyed this nasty spaghetti! Sorry for not updating in a while. Love y'all. 💕💕