|Begging for Pain|Call of Duty One Shots| [Requests Open!]

Shots On Me [Frank Woods]

First one shot of this book! Oooo >;o Hope you enjoy it!

Bean~
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"(Y/n), Come on! This is the final night the club will be open! They're shutting down for good! Pleeeeease?" You watched as your friend pleaded childishly on her knees towards you. A soft groan of annoyance escaped your lips.

It was already 6pm, and you needed to turn in the final copy of your novel to your publisher by tomorrow night, but your friend cheekily persisted you took a break and went partying. You wanted to go, you truly did, but your career was much more important than a club.

"I'll pay for you!" Your friend's voice suddenly snapped out of your stubborn state. A grin tugged your lips. "I'll get dressed."

~~~~~~

The night was ecstatic at the club, many newcomers and familiar faces crowded the area. Somehow, you had managed to squeeze through all the drunk men and women, finally sitting down in a bar stool by the bartender.

"What can I get you?" Her voice was sweet, as if honey dripped down her cherry coated lips, which was unsuitable for someone who worked at a club this crowded. Normally, the tenders would be grouchy and miserable throughout the night.

"Can I get a whiskey on the rocks, please?" You asked kindly, setting a twenty dollar bill on the counter top. She shook her head and ushered the money back. "You seem like you need this drink. You can order anything you'd like tonight, my treat. This place is shuttin' down anyway."

You smiled at her kindness. "At least let me tip you."

She chuckled, but finally accepted the money. "This is the only tip you're giving me." She joked, pouring the caramel colored beverage into a cup with ice, sprinkling some salt over the top. You raised an eyebrow in question, and she seemed to notice. "The salt makes it taste better in my opinion. Brings out the flavor. If you don't like it, I'll make you a new one."

Your only response was a short nod. Your hands gripped the cup and brought the edge to your lips, tilting it back. It was shocking, but she was right. The whiskey tasted much better with the salt added. It brought a bit of a salty and sweet taste to the drink overall. As you sipped your cold beverage, you decided to inspect your new friend.

Her petite figure showed she worked out, but not enough to develop arm muscles. Jogging and/or running was your immediate thought. Your eyes shifted to her clothing choice. She wore a black tank top that came down up until her waist line. It wasn't exactly a crop top, much more like a shirt that got shrunk in the dryer. From the waist down, she wore black leather tights that hugged her slim legs. You didn't even know they made leather tights until today. That's something to take note of.

Her feet were placed in opened toed flats. With her job, she needed to do a lot of running around, so it was a smart thing to wear flats. Back up to her face, you inspected her make up choice. She went for a simple smokey eye, but brought the attention down to her lips. They were coated in a bright, cherry colored lipstick. Upon further notice, you had realized she glazed the lipstick with a clear, thick lipgloss.

"If you're gonna check me out, buy me a drink first."

Your eyes tore away from the woman's face with a small snicker. "I would, but you only accept tips." Your tone was teasing, causing the bartender to laugh.

Before she could reply, a series of gunfire could be heard from the back entrance, sending the entire club into screams of panic. You quickly looked around, in hopes of seeing the shooter, but no avail. Turning to get up, you accidentally knocked a glass off the counter top with your elbow. Sending all eyes on you.

The bartender quickly grabbed your arm and tried to react quick enough and tug you behind the counter. Although, she was quick, she couldn't stop the inevitable. A painted gasp sprung from your lips when you felt a bullet pry itself through your once soft skin. It went clean through your hip, but that didn't mean in hurt any less.

Your friend had gone missing, and now you were just alone with the bartender, her trying to find something to cover your wound with. The pain rattled your bones and forced your lungs to burn for oxygen. It only took a few seconds for things to change so quickly. You were now rethinking why you agreed to leave the comfort of your home just to party. Was it worth it? Definitely not.

Gunshots shook the building's frame, when three men charged their way through the club. The earlier gunman was now 'unresponsive' while the other hid behind a fallen over table. One of the men dove behind the counter, his weapon securely in his hand. He seemed not to notice you and the bartender, until she decided to speak up.

"Sir, could you help, please? This woman has been shot." She choked out in a fragile tone. The man suddenly whipped his gaze to you. His blue eyes scanned your figure, until he stopped at the blooded up area you were covering with your hands. "You're going to be alright, Ma'am. My name is Sargent Frank Woods, I'm with the military. I'm gonna get you out of here." He announced quietly to you.

You inhaled sharply before speaking. "That's good... I guess you could say shots are on me?... Hehe..." He remained quiet, confused at your statement.

"..."

"Because we're in a club...?"

". . ."

"And I got shot?.... Never mind."

He shook off your statement with a soft chuckle before he peered around the corner. "You got 'em Mason?" He called out.

"No! He fled! Hudson went after him! Find any survivors and help them out!"

At the husky man's demands, Woods quickly scooped you up into his muscular arms. It sent a soaring pain through your open wound, but decided to play it off and bite your thumb nail. He carried you outside, and set you on a stretcher, a paramedics team rushing to your aid.

He went to leave, but stopped in his tracks. He glanced over his shoulder at you and inhaled sharply through his nose. After a small mental debate, Frank slipped a paper into your hand.

You glanced down at the small slip and raised an eyebrow. It read;

"Thanks for the free shots. Call me when you don't feel like... you know.
Woods."

A grin twisted onto your expression, but by the time you looked up, he was already gone. You tried to look around for him, but no avail, so you chose another tactic.

"So you did get my joke!?" You yelled.

It took a moment before he replied. "Yes!"

"Was it funny!?"

"No!"

You growled under your breath. "Damn. That was my first original joke, too." You muttered towards your helping aid, who shrugged in response.

Might as well think of jokes before you called him.

//Hope you enjoyed this!
Word Count: 1205