Summary: Charles and Carlos enter your bar right when you were ready to start closing, but instead of becoming frustrated, it might've just made your night.
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You looked at the clock hung up on the wall, sighing in relief as the last person left. You only had a few minutes til you could start closing, and for the first time since you became the owner of this bar, you would actually leave on time.
You picked up the glasses left on the countertop and turned around to place them in the sink when you heard the front door bell jingle, indicating someone's arrival.
Turning around, you were just about to tell the person that you were closing the bar, however your words got stuck in your throat as you looked at the two men who entered.
There was no doubt that they were attractive, but due to your silence after looking at them, one of them began to sit down on the barstool while the other stood behind him.
The one who was still standing looked around, noticing the lack of people around and decided to ask, "is this place still open?" You noticed his accent, telling you that he wasn't from around here. It sounded similar to French, but you could be wrong considering the only 'accent' you knew were the fake ones people tried once they were drunk out of their minds.
The corner of your lip turned up, at least he had the common decency to ask, and just for that you nodded. "Honestly I was about to start closing, but take a seat."
The man who was standing finally decided to sit beside his friend. "Oh good, every other bar in the area was closed." He explained, a smile gracing his lips revealing dimples, which you just newly discovered you had a weak spot for.
You raised an eyebrow in question, "it is nearing two in the morning, you guys should've been out earlier in the evening."
"We're just passing by, making a short pitstop before we're back on the road." The other man spoke, his accent was different telling you that neither men were from around here.
"Well which one of you is driving?" You asked, not wanting to be responsible for a drunk driver. The one with the dimples pointed to the other man, "Carlos' driving, he doesn't think I'm good enough," he says with an exaggerated eye roll.
Carlos shrugged, "well I hate being the passenger, but Charles' on-road driving skills are questionable," he explained to you, earning another eye roll from Charles.
You chuckled at their antics, settling your palms on the countertop. "What will you have, Charles?"
His smile returned to his face and he thought for a moment, "a Moscow mule, please." You nodded, and started gathering the ingredients to make the drink.
"And you, Carlos, anything non-alcoholic?" You asked, not wanting to leave him out but he shook his head.
Carlos' eyes wandered around the bar, eyes widening in surprise when he spotted the pool table in the back corner.
