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The bell over the door chimes behind Tom and Billy as they walk down the three steps that lead into the pub. Billy shrugs off his coat and nods to the bartender as they walk past. She smiles and picks up two glasses, setting them under the taps. Tom looks back over his shoulder as Billy settles into his seat.
The pub is all dark wood and brass fixtures but feels cheerful thanks to the sunlight slanting in through the windows behind the bar and along one side. The stained glass panels throw patches of colored light on the faux leather benches and faded wingback armchairs. It’s about half-full, mostly men sitting so that they have a good view of the television that hangs over the far side of the bar. Tom and Billy have taken up a little table off to one side near the currently dark and empty fireplace.
“Isn’t it weird, her knowing what we’re going to order as soon as we walk in the door?”
“No. We’re here often enough. And ask her about the dart board.” Tom fights back a smile and rolls his eyes, unseen as Billy has already opened his newspaper.
“You and your bloody dart board. This is a pub, not a museum.”
“Pubs should have dart boards. Now go get the drinks.”
Tom sighs and heads off towards the bar, weaving between the tables. Billy lowers his newspaper enough to be able to watch him.
The girl behind the bar is a brunette in her late twenties with big, expressive eyes. Her hair is set up in a messy ponytail high on her head, and she’s dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt with the pub’s name across the front. Tom pays for the drinks and turns to go, but she says something to make him stop. He smiles politely and responds as she sets her elbows on the bar and leans forward, grinning. Tom shuffles his feet and coughs into his fist. She raises an eyebrow and reaches under the bar, pulling out a bowl of mixed nuts and sliding them over to him. He reaches for his wallet and she waves him off with a comment and yet another smile. He flushes pink, rubbing at the back of his neck as he tilts his head down, looking at her through his lashes. He mutters something and nods in the direction of their table. She turns her head to look, giving Billy a little wave and giving Tom the opportunity to slip away from the bar, balancing the bowl and two glasses in his hands. Billy waves back with half a hand so as not to lose his grip on the newspaper.
“Christ, every time. How often are we here?”
“Often.” Billy doesn’t lower the newspaper, so Tom hooks a finger over the top and folds it back. Billy is grinning from ear to ear.
“Then how many times do I have to come in here with you before she leaves me alone?” Tom slides Billy’s beer to him and drops down into the armchair opposite. Billy folds the paper in half and lays it on the table.
“Maybe if you stopped going up to the bar then she’d stop flirting.”
“You sent me!” Tom says, laughing.
“You need to be better at taking compliments. She’s a pretty girl being nice to you. Really pretty, actually. I mean, if you wanted, we could ask her if she-“
“What! No! What? No. No.” Billy moves to one side, then the other, trying to look at her around Tom, who leans and swerves to block his view.
“Suit yourself.” He goes back to reading his paper. Tom glances towards the bar and catches her eye. She grins and he ducks his head, color rising on his cheeks again. Billy watches the exchange and smiles to himself.
They drink in companionable silence, swapping sections of the newspaper and occasionally talking about something they’ve read. Billy frowns at the crossword and Tom’s brow furrows as he glances through the sports section. The television murmurs in the background over the quiet ripple of the other conversations.
“You’re just looking at the pictures, aren’t you?” Tom laughs and turns another page, the tip of his thumb caught between his teeth.
“Hey, Tom. Do you want to play footsie or do you want to let me read this?”
“Any reason I can’t do both?”
Billy leans to one side and pulls his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans. He fishes out a twenty pound note and holds it out between two fingers. Tom groans.
“Don't make me go back up there. She always wants me to stay and chat and shit. I don’t know what to talk about.”
“I don’t get free nuts when I go. Plus, you’re cute when you’re nervous.”
“I don’t get nervous.” Billy hums in agreement. Tom shoots him a look as he snatches the note out of his fingers and stalks off towards the bar.
The bartender hurries to finish wiping down the empty table and skirts around behind the bar just as Tom arrives. They chat while she pours the drinks, Tom squinting against the late-afternoon sun as it comes in through the window at a lower angle. He gestures back towards their table and her smile falters for a fraction of a second, a brief look of surprise before she looks down to check on the glasses. She says something and shrugs, laughing. Tom’s mouth drops open and this time his blush extends up into his hair as he tries to laugh with her. He picks up the drinks and turns to head back. She wipes her hands on a towel as she watches him go. Billy looks up and grins broadly as she looks from him to Tom and winks.
“What are you so happy about?”
“You. Flummoxed by a girl.” Billy stretches out his hand and takes the beer Tom’s holding out. Tom rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling when he sits.
“Flummoxed is not a word people actually use. Do you want to eat while we’re here?”
“Nah, I can wait.” Tom arches his back lazily as he settles into the chair again, rummaging through the sections of the newspaper for something his hasn’t read yet.
The afternoon moves slowly forward around them, and eventually Billy slides out of his spot and heads up to the bar for the third round. The bartender is chatting with two older gentlemen but moves from the other side of the bar to meet him, flashing him a smile.
“Not making him come up here a third time?”
“I think two is about all he can handle. Any more attention and he’ll probably pass out, hit his head or something.” She giggles, her gaze directed down towards their glasses. “He’s not so good with pretty girls.”
“Good thing he’s got a handsome husband instead, then. No random fainting around the house, then.” This time it’s Billy’s turn to laugh, so loudly that Tom turns to look.
“No, he... no fainting. I can’t believe we’re talking about the same person. Cheers.” She smiles and nods as he takes the drinks and goes back to the table.
“Were you talking about me? Why, Mac?”
“We were discussing who would top when she comes over later.” Tom coughs, sputtering into his beer. His mouth drops open and he gasps for air. “Oh, calm down. Like you’d know what to do with a girl anyway. I’d have to do all the damn work.” Billy says. His tongue runs across his bottom lip as Tom watches him from over the rim of his glass.
“You know, all this talk. You want to head home after this?” Tom looks across the table, mouth curled into a half-smile. He draws his fingers lightly over Billy’s where his hand rests on the table.
“Yeah, sounds like a good idea.”
They quickly finish off their drinks and pull on their jackets on their way past the bar, each nodding in turn to the bartender, who watches them with raised eyebrows as they pass by on their way out.