In which Neal Broten realizes he has had the key to true happiness in his arms the whole time.
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Deal or No Deal
Neal and Y/n had two agreements whenever they went out together. First, they always rode there together. On the off chance they both struck out, they rode home together. They both had a set of keys to Neal's car. If only one were successful, they'd leave his car for the other.
Their second agreement came in the form of a signal. It was meant mostly for Y/n in case she was being harassed, but it could go either way. Y/n usually could get out of any situation, but every so often - like this moment - her drinks were kicking in and her otherwise quick-thinking brain was slowly shutting down.
Having been friends long before attending the U, Neal knew her like the back of his hand. He could tell when she was uncomfortable with just a glance in her direction. In this instance, he hadn't taken his eyes off of her and the man sitting next to her since she'd sauntered over there.
She's leaning with her back against the bar top, looking as if she couldn't care less about the drunk man next to her. To anyone else, she seemed fine, but Neal was counting the amount of times she rubbed her nose. Even without looking directly at him, she knew he was watching. On the second brush past her nose, he got up from his seat, making his way over to the pair.
"Hey, love," he could have sworn he heard her breathe a sigh of relief. His lips brushed past her cheek. "Sorry, I got caught up talking."
The man that had been talking to her looked angry, his eyes darkening, his hands clenching into fists. Neal was as calm as ever as he took her hand and helped her off the stool she was sitting on, never once acknowledging the other man's presence. "The guys have a table over there."
"Hey," the man finally barks, anger flashing in eyes that dart around the room quickly. "I was talking to her."
"I believe you were talking at her." Comes a third voice. Jack O'Callahan leans against the bar with a slight smile on his face. He'd been looking for a fight for a while. What better chance to beat someone up than a man who wasn't physically able to win...and had been harassing Y/n.
The man whirls around in intoxicated anger. "Were you talking to me, pipsqueak?" It wasn't an invalid insult, with the way Jack was lounging against the bar it seemed the other man was bigger than him. Sharing a look with Neal, Jack pulls himself up to his full height to where he towered over the other man, that same sly smile on his face.
"Jack," he ignores her soft interruption.
"I think you owe my friend an apology,"
"I'm not apologizing to nobody," the man replied, his face contorting with anger. Anyone could tell he was mad at how nonchalant Jack was about this. Anyone could tell that he wanted to wipe the cocky smirk off Jack's face. Anyone else could tell that wasn't going to happen.
