Mr & Mr Hitman

An adventure at the Bar

"Please tell me you didn't just sprint out the fucking house with nothing of the things needed whatsoever," Olivia mentally facepalmed herself when she heard Sam clumsily lock the door on the other line.

"I grabbed a hoodie but mark my words when I tell you this barman is the next victim on my list," Samuel ran through the rain, one hand shielding his eyes from the droplets of water while the other held his phone.

"That was a direct confession that I didn't expect," the woman chuckled when he heard the man gasp. "Don't worry, I know about it all but that doesn't mean I'll let my mouth run."

"How much?"

"You and Cameron are hitmen. And you both are in love with each other."

"That last statement is not fully correct," Samuel laughed, still sprinting, causing people to stare at him confusedly, while he hid the hoodie he brought under his jacket.

I completely forgot I had a motorcycle.

"Come on Sam, he's having, I quote, "weird dreams about you", and you're here acting like the main character of a romance novel running through the rain to save your lover," she sighed, "Excuse me but if that's not love, then what the fuck even is it?"

"You know, I think that after all those things I said and did," he slowed his pace down, "I feel like he's going to hate me even more."

"Apologies exist," Olivia chuckled.

Would I spare Matt if he apologized?

"But even I hate myself for all the things I said."

"That's because you care for him, I'm sure he'll understand Sam."

Samuel sighed, "Alright okay Olivia. Thank you for notifying me- Wait what were you even doing with him in the first place-"

"Some secrets need to be left untold," were the final words of the woman who hung up on the man's question.

They act like this and expect me not to be suspicious about them.

Samuel ran a hand through his wet hair, slightly smiling when he made out the faint neon sign of the bar in the distance.

The rain had gotten way heavy, what once was small droplets of water had now turned into vigorous showers that made the scent of soil rise; but that wasn't a problem for our main character, for he had strong antibodies.

He strode, glancing both ways before he crossed the road, pushing the door to his destination.

"Woah amigo, where are you going looking like a sponge straight out of the ocean?", a half drunk middle-aged guy placed his hand on Sam's shoulder, slightly pushing him. "You'll get the floor dirty."

"I'm here to pick someone. I'll be quick," Samuel's eyes roamed around the bar looking for Vixen.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you," the man snarled.

"What's happening here?", other men, seemingly acquainted with the Spanish fellow, joined.

"I'm not looking for trouble, let me get my friend and I'm done," Samuel was starting to lose his patience, adding to the fact that he couldn't find Cameron anywhere.

Until he spotted a silhouette resting his head on the table with several empty glasses next to him, as the barman grinned at him.

"Excuse me," Samuel quickly pushed through and made his way to his unrequited love before being yanked back out.

They are starting to get on my nerves.

"Listen up prince, just tell me who your friend is and we'll go get them. This place is dangerous for virgins," one of the men spoke while his mates laughed.

Samuel clenched his jaw, biting his lips, trying to control his anger. "No."

"Oh?"

"You are making this hard for yourself. Now if you want to throw hands, just wait here, bunch of lowlives," Sam forced his way through again, this time successfully.

"Why you little-"

"Let him. I haven't exercised in a while."

"Cameron. Cameron, wake up," Sam poked the man's cheek. He wasn't asleep, but he was obviously out of it.

His hazel eyes were dazed, barely even open, nose slightly red and hair all over the place.

"Yo Elijah, I feel- I think- your cocktails are- I think your cocktails are making me hallucinate- see things mate," Cam slurred and squinted his eyes before he sat up when his vision made it clear that Samuel was in front of him. "You?"

"Come on, let's go home," the 'savior' breathed a sigh of relief.

"What- Why- are you-"

"Aww you're already going sweetheart?", the barman blinked, resting his chin on his palm.

"He has a name," Samuel glared.

"Yes. And I gave him a nickname."

"I'm not sure he approves of that."

"You don't need to worry about it."

Samuel gritted his teeth, "Whatever, just tell me the bill."

"It's all on the house," Elijah rose one eyebrow and smirked.

Rolling his eyes, Samuel deposited a few drained notes on the counter before he wrapped his hands around Cameron's waist, getting him back on his feet with no effort whatsoever.

"Tell me- Explain to me why I have to- should follow- follow you after all those things you said- said," Cameron's head swayed, the man barely able to keep himself awake.

"Because you like me, and I like you," Samuel sighed when he realized Cameron wasn't paying attention.

He lowered his head, whispering into the shorter man's ear, "I'm sorry."

"Keep- keep those for later, take a glance- look at those guys. They look like they're about to- they're about to eat- eat us," Cam gestured to the Spanish fellows who were impatiently waiting for the return of Sam; their punching bag for the evening.

"I'm going to take care of it," the main character sighed, glancing at the shorter man who didn't shrug his arm off of him yet.

"Let me- let me join," Cameron looked up at him, a little spark of excitement lighting in his pupil.

"No. You can barely walk," Sam chuckled, feeling himself falling in love more with the deuteragonist.

"Come- come on. They're four. Let's- Let us share."

"I won't fight."

"Ex- excuse me?"

"C, can you run?"

...

No.

No would be the answer.

...

The language of lightweights is absolutely adorable.