AlexStorm One-Shot Book

🍾🎷Bar blues🎷🍾

July 3rd, 1940
Exactly 8:30 p.m

The Aviator had drug himself out of the house for the first time in weeks, an exhausted sound letting out of the pit of his throat.  He was terrified of July 3rd but he knew he had to get himself out of his cottage. He didn't necessarily live in the city, because he couldn't afford some of the foolish prices on the homes. The Aviator was wearing his worn aviator jacket, with the boots and shirt, ascot too. He didn't want to make himself look idiotic wearing his goggles and cap, so he left that on his bed-side at his home. Alex rode into town in his Cadillac, one of the nice cars. It was dismal out in the town at that night, hadn't it been for the light pollution, he would be able to see the moon. There was a small boy handing out papers to anyone walking by which Alex stopped to him in sympathy, and took a paper from the boy, giving him two dimes. A sweet smile crossed Alex's face as he went out of parking, resting his head on the head of the steering wheel, his little mementos swinging on the mirror. The pilot smiled up at said objects as he advanced to drive. Now, I haven't told you the place he is heading to for quite a reason. The place will seem to shock you, because it's unlike Alex to go to said place, but on this night Alex couldn't handle himself to. Alex drove into the parking slots of what seemed to be a bar, a club. He pushed himself into one of the closer spots to the bar, and hit the breaks, pressing his car into locking motion, and opening the door, half of his body hanging in to put the keys in the lock, and his boots making a squeaky noise as they always did.

The car made a noise that implicated that it was locked, and Alex nodded in affirmation, grabbing his keys out of the hole firmly, his hands wrapping around them as he placed them into one of his pockets. He knew he would be able to escape the lingering, roaring sounds of fireworks and the popping sounds of the ground after having a "popper" as they call them, flinged at your feet. The aviator shut the door with the heel of his shoe and walking to the bar, his eyes gazing up at the words graven into the top of the bar. It read 'purgatory' out in cursive. Something that Alex didn't take much notice to was a deputy car. An officer spending time at a small bar near the edge of Los Angeles. That was a rare occurrence. Hm. Alex gets a real proud kick out of this.

The aviator walks over to the door, pressing the palm of his hand against the door as he opened it, his eyes starting to settle in to the dark setting of the bar. There was I don't want to set the world on fire playing in the background, which Alex put out to a measly noise that he wouldn't listen to. There was a few people that were under the influence of Alcohol dancing alone in the most innapropriate ways, one singing the national anthem drunkenly, and one man sitting on a bar stool, his feet up on the table as he drunk on what seemed to be sailor vodka, which was extremely strong. What was this person doing, trying to kill themself?

Alex didn't have any idea why he would drink that vodka unless he wanted to stagger his way home in a pair of handcuffs. Yet Alex just rolled his eyes and pushed through the crowd of people and tapped a hand on the man's shoulder, giving and enthusiastic smile. ❝Do you mind if I sit here beside you?❞ he cocked his head to the side as he spoke to the male, to which he replied with ❝Yeah, i do mind actually, my ghost friend is sitting right here, can't you see him?❞ Alex ignored that, with a low hum as he sat himself on the seat, doing a little swivel of the chair.

❝What are you, five?❞ the male asked as he looked over at him. Alex just rose his brow, running a hand through his black hair with the blonde tinges. This man was rude, but Alex wasn't the type to take things to heart, so he replied to him with a ❝I don't know, do you think I'm five? The last time I checked I was thirty.❞ Alex chuckled as the guy placed beside him rolled his eyes. ❝If you want me to point something out about you, then I'll go ahead and do so. Your feet on the table is immature, you probably aren't wearing any socks which makes your feet smell like corn chips, your posture is terrible, and even the fact  that your wearing a flat cap makes you look ragged. Also, those gloves are not as cool as you think.❞ the male forked him a glare, his hand pressed against his chest, but then started to laugh at him.

❝You got guts kid, talking to an enforcer that way, y'know that?❞ the other male took off his flat cap and rubbed the edgy end against the back of his head. Alex was about to reply to him, but he saw the barkeep was impatiently waiting for him to order a drink. ❝Oh shoot! Sorry barkeep! I'll have some champagne, preferably in a shot glass.❞ the male beside him in the dark clothing turned over to him and coughed something under his breath, but it came clearer second time around he said it. The male had called him a pussy. A pussy? ❝C'mon man, could you be more mature?❞ Alex pulled off his jacket as he looked over at him, rolling his eyes right at him. The male chuckled at that response

❝You don't have to call me man and shit, DeStorm is fine.❞ he spoke, putting his grey flat cap on the table. ❝DeStorm? What kinda name is that anyways, like, are you bringing de storm?❞ Alex replied jokingly. ❝Kidding, kidding. my name is Alexander, but you can call me alex.❞ DeStorm started to tease at Alex ❝Oh, so are you A Lex? like, what does an A lex do?❞ he hicked. DeStorms humor was terrible, but it was two times worse since the man had been drinking alot. He had been there for approximately three hours, and this was his sixth cup of the alcohol.

❝Alright, shut up will you? Don't judge me by my alcohol detective douche rocket❞ Alex spoke. ❝So you're a deputy? Doesn't surprise me. But why those gloves? You look like you're a professional boxer.❞ he spoke, his eyes meeting the taller males. ❝Look, kid. The gloves don't matter, because your IQ is not large enough to understand that me, an enforcer, is not allowed to get my prints on evidence, so if I have to tamper with some of the items, I wear these gloves, yeah?❞ he gestured, pulling the opening, it slapping back down onto his wrist. ❝Alright Mr big scary enforcer man. why aren't you out on the job, saving lives? It's the fourth of july, and some people can get hit by the big scary fireworks. I fought in the war, so these fireworks are nothing compared to what I had to do up in the air.❞

Alex spoke the first part in a joking manner, downing the shot glass with a groan. ❝Oh, your baby ass was in the army huh? I didn't expect that considering you can't even take down a thing of champagne without groaning like a little bitch who just got done taking a shit. I have to see people get killed almost every day, so please, give me a little thanks?❞ DeStorm spoke, firing at Alex with his words. ❝are you kidding me DeStorm, what respect you are showing me right now?❞ Alex spoke. DeStorm had a sharp tone in his voice as he responded. ❝Oh mr. Alex, thank you for your service, you can step on me if you need to.❞ DeStorm spoke sarcastically towards Alex, to which Alex spoke cluelessly ❝Oh, thank you, enforcer.❞ DeStorm facepalmed at him. He was thinking something along the lines of, this kid really doesn't have common sense does he?   ❝Yeah no problem, 'Lex.❞ he spoke in a pained tone. The two men continued their banter for a while, until our so called innocent Alex was flat out inebriated.

🎶Time skip🎶

The Aviator looked over at the enforcer with a sigh, one sign of sap left in his maudlin eyes. ❝Hey enforcer, would you perhaps have any interest in dancing with me? I dunno, this song is actually one of my favourites, and I want someone to dance with me, since doing it alone would be a bit.. ungainly, y'know?❞ he stood up and stuck his hand out for DeStorm to take. DeStorm rose a brow at Alex with a small laugh.

❝Are YOU asking ME to dance? I do not dance, but since I've taken a  liking to you, twit, I surmise I will dance with you.❞ the male took his hand, his leather glove rubbing against Alex's hand, which felt weird. ❝Stop using the big words there enforcer, according to you my IQ is low and I cannot understand said words.❞ The enforcer pretended he didn't hear that, took his blazer coat and fixed said coat onto Alex's small shoulders, only because Alex's embroidered jacket had fell into a thing of cherry raspberry alcohol syrup that was broken behind the chair, plus it set the mood between the two men. DeStorm wasn't a firm believer at the love at first sight shit, but he thinks that he might have caught it.

DeStorm grabbed Alex's hands and stuck one up, one to mid level, and spun him, making sure he leaned into his arms and DeStorm didn't drop him. As DeStorm spoke to him, he had a softer tone. ❝Huh- I've never danced like this with a guy before, or ever danced with a guy, but you're very easy to dance with, my aviator.❞ he smiled in an unusual way, something the enforcer would never do, continuing to slow dance with the other. Turns out, this Aviator wasn't that bad.