Random One Shots

Random one shots with actors, musicians/bands and characters.

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154. Jeremy Renner 7

~A man walked into your bar. No, that’s not the start of some cheesy joke. That’s what actually happened. He wasn’t a regular; that much you were sure of. Must be some rich guy trying to buy me out again… You sighed, grabbing a towel off the side of the sink, and began to dry a glass from the draining rack.
The man’s leather jacket was your first clue that he definitely was not from around these parts. He was likely lost or already drunk. There was no sway to his purposeful walk, so not drunk. He didn’t exactly look bewildered, like the lost ones usually do, so probably knows exactly where he is.
He took a seat at the end of the counter, like he was trying to distance himself from everyone else. Initially, you thought it might have been leeriness of his location, considering your bar was in a less-than-reputable part of town. Not that you minded. The property was worth way more than you paid for it.
It wasn’t until you looked at his weary and worn face that it made sense.
“Bad day?” you asked, tossing the towel over top of your shoulder. He nodded. “What can I get for you?”
“Straight Jack, if you don’t mind, doll,” he muttered back. It was a bit difficult to hear him over the music and all the idle chatter, but you managed. You grabbed a short glass and filled it halfway with ice. The bottle of Jack Daniels seemed to always be at the front of the counter, so you snatched it and poured. When you slid his glass over on a paper coaster, you introduced yourself and shook his hand.
“I’m Jeremy. Jeremy Renner,” he answered, eyeing your name tag. “So, what’s a pretty little thing like you doin’ in a place like this?” A look of surprise cast itself across your features and he snorted inwardly. “Don’t mean that in a bad way, honey. Just sayin’, with a rack like that, you’d make better money stripping.”
“You got something against female business owners, Jeremy Renner?” you asked with a grin. He shook his head firmly.
“No problem at all.” He fell silent after that, swallowing down a mouthful of his drink. You could hear the toe of his boot scraping the counter each time he tapped his foot, creating a new melody, one that you really didn’t mind at all.
If he needed another drink, he’d wait to catch you eye and raise his glass, then offer up a small thanks when you set it down. He was three drinks in by the time he spoke to you directly again.
“Funny how these things work, huh?” he chuckled. “Is it bad that I already know exactly what’s gonna happen tonight?” You raised an eyebrow.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you see that girl over there?” He pointed to a petite blonde in the back corner. She was leaning up against the wall with her arms crossed under her bust, pushing her cleavage further out. You nodded. “She’s gonna come over here and try to snag my number or a trip to my hotel room. And then the guy over there, the one playing pool? He’s gonna try to pick a fight with me for his old lady hittin’ on me. We’ll go out back, in the alley. He’d probably kick my ass, and I’ll be okay with it. Probably too drunk by that point to care, you know? And there’s a cop that hangs around. He’ll corner me and warn me of the dangers of ‘Mr. Hollywood’ being in a neighborhood like this so late at night. But in the end, I’ll blow him off because he’s got more hair on his back than he does on his head and more than just one spare tire, and I don’t take shit from guys like that.”
Both eyebrows were raised by this time as he stared at you over his glass. Unconsciously, you were still drying the seemingly endless supply of glasses.
“And you, pretty lady… Well, you’re just too sweet a gal to let me drive to my hotel. You’ll probably take my keys from me and offer to call me a taxi. I’ll tell you it’s mean to call people names, and you’ll laugh. You’ll be worried, though, about whether or not I’m coherent enough to give the cabbie the name of the correct hotel, so against your better judgment, you’ll take me home with you and let me sleep it off.”
“Okay, Renner. Spill it. How the hell could you possibly know any of that?” you quipped, drying off a glass. He just smirked and took another sip. The towel came to rest over the top of your shoulder, and you put your palms against the bar. “Come on. Tell me.”
“Would you believe me if I said ‘déjà vu’?” he asked, tapping the tip of his fingers against the glass. Small drops of condensation splattered the counter in front of him. You grinned, muttering back ‘no’.
“Happens to me a lot.” He shrugged. “Gold diggers wanna say they slept with a famous guy, their boyfriends get mad, every city has a fat, bald cop that patrols the less desirable parts of town, and every single female bartender I’ve ever met tries to take me home after their shift. I’ve been around the block a few times, honey. I know how this shit works.”
“You’re famous, huh? Some kinda singer?” For the (at least) millionth time, he shook his head and chuckled, which came out sounding kind of gravelly and rough. It stopped and started, like a rapid succession of hiccups. The sound emanated from deep in his chest and his shoulders danced with every sound.
“I’m an actor.” You nodded, trying to look impressed. Fact is you weren’t. Not in the slightest. Men like him came and went and were worth a dime a dozen as far as you were concerned. “It’s kinda refreshing to meet someone who doesn’t know who I am, though. No autograph or photo requests, no one grabbing at me, no one trying to cop a feel, y’know?” That one made you laugh, causing an easy tension in your stomach.
“You ready for this?” he asked suddenly, jerking his head towards the blonde in the corner. She was advancing quickly, stalking like a predator towards him, her prey. No way… you mouthed to him. He nodded, and she clambered up on the stool next to him, trying to chat him up. Jeremy shut her down pretty damn quick, telling her he wasn’t interested.
She put her hand on his arm and he looked at you, winking. The burly man from the pool table stopped, hollering at Jeremy about ‘not touchin’ his lady’ and how he was going to ‘rough his punk ass up’ if it happened again.
“I’m not telling you again, lady. Get offa me, and get away from me.” With a huff and a puff, she stormed off, and you leaned forward, resting your elbows on the counter and your chin in your hands.
“Well, Jeremy, I’m shuttin’er down here in about an hour, so feel free to suck down a few more drinks on the house, hand over your keys, and you can sleep it off on my couch.”
“Did I mention the part where we fuck?” You sighed inwardly, pushing another drink at him.
“That was implied, sweetheart.”
 

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