Agent Washington (completelysane) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-03-10 15:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, agent washington, peeta mellark |
Who: Wash and Peeta
What: Drinking, talking and accidentally starting a fight
When: Late last week
Where: Local bar in Seal Beach
Ratings/Warnings: Medium - language, some feels and mild violence
Status: Complete!
Now that Orange County was officially out of the grasp of Panem Peeta could breathe a little easier. It had been an awful week and a half and he honestly didn’t know how he managed to survive if it wasn’t for Caroline. She had been willing to heal him and his friends more than just once and he was so thankful for her, which was why she was suddenly ghosting on him made him so incredibly confused. She wasn’t flat out ghosting, but she wasn’t really hanging out with him as much as they had before during the Panem takeover. Something else had to be going on, she was having strange dreams, but he couldn’t think of a way to get her to sit down and talk to him about it.
When Wash contacted him to go get a drink he readily accepted. If anything it would take his mind off things and he would be able to spend more time with this new friend of his. A friend who had gone through a lot of similar things in the military and was probably just as affected by the things here as much as he was. Peeta couldn’t help but notice the port in the back of his neck when he had been helping clean up the injuries Wash had gotten, so he was curious about what that was about. If you got right down to it, a drink was more than welcome right now. He had too much on his mind and he was debating if he wanted to approach his doctor for new meds to help keep his mind calm, but for now might as well try this first.
Wash was restless, anxious, now more so than usual. He felt as if he was waiting for one more thing to happen - one more thing to react to. He was wound up so tightly something was bound to snap. His mind was in a constant state of heightened alertness jumping at every mundane noise caused by something he couldn’t see or identify. His heart pounded continuously and his mind raced. A feeling of aimless wandering and a pointless existence was starting to creep back into his life and Wash didn’t have anything he felt could ground him. He had to do something, he had to force himself to relax before something really did snap. He had promised Peeta that they’d get together, share stories, have a few drinks. Now seemed like as good a time as any.
The first round of shots were on him. Whiskey first and then beer as was his usual routine and Wash was desperate for routine in the aftermath of an Orange County Event. He raised his shot glass. “To another month,” he toasted before knocking it back. He let out a satisfied sigh and turned the empty shot glass upside down on the table.
Peeta didn’t feel the anxiousness at the same level as Wash, but it did stir up his PTSD. He kept imagining that something was going to happen, be it a bomb or perhaps triggering a pod like in the Capitol. He didn’t want to be caught in something like that again and it made him have a bit harder time getting out of the house, but it wasn’t to a level where he truly needed to be worried. He felt a bit like Annie in his need to remind himself that his reality and that isn’t going to happen. Unfortunately he thought that before and the Quarter Quell decided to make an appearance, so alas, but he could totally try to fool himself.
Drinks were perfect for helping to assist in that fooling. He tipped the shot of whiskey towards Wash’s before moving it to his lips and drinking. There was that slight grimace when he felt the bite of the spirit and he set the glass down before taking a sip of beer to chase it with. “Another month where we have to fear for our lives. I want a month where nothing awful happens,” Peeta complained as he lifted his hand to the bartender for another round of shots.
“You and me both, Mellark,” Wash sighed as he picked up his beer and took a few healthy gulps to chase the whiskey. Already he could feel the alcohol start to do its job. The tension in his shoulders started to ease, so he didn’t look quite as hunched over the bar as he had been. “Christmas wasn’t so bad, though, I guess. Right? I mean the gremlins were more annoying than anything. Made for good target practise.” He glanced up as Peeta signaled for the next round. “Cindy and I found some squatting in this movie theater. They’d completely wrecked the place. One threw a cup of soda at me, but that was really as bad as it got. Wouldn’t mind a few more instances of that...just...you know...less soda in the hair.”
The whiskey ran a warm path down his body and he could feel it affect him. It was a nice sensation and he rolled his shoulders a little to relax a bit more. “Gremlins. I forgot about those. And in a movie theater? That just screams the Gremlins movie to me. And if all they really did was throw popcorn and soda at me then I would happily take them all day long. I know they’re a little more dangerous than that, but they were a lot easier to handle than the jabberjays,” he took the next shots from the bartender and handed one over to Wash, “I’m glad my dreams are gone now. Although I’m scared they sent Caroline running because she’s starting to ghost on me.”
Wash frowned at that. He could only assume that Panem’s entrance into Orange County had affected Caroline. It had affected everyone in some way. He genuinely felt bad for Peeta. What had happened hadn’t been his fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was the way this damn place worked. Wash had come to realize that during the storm back in July. He was also a little annoyed with Caroline for avoiding Peeta in the aftermath when he probably needed her most. No sooner had that annoyance swam up then Wash inwardly chastised himself as a hypocrite. He had done the exact same thing with Kyu, pushing her away in a foolhardy attempt at protecting her.
He winced before picking up his shot. “I’m sorry, man.” He said. “That really sucks. But maybe, I don’t know, she’s trying to process everything? It’s not an easy thing to do when you’re in an event like that. I can’t say that I don’t go off radar every now and then when this shit goes down.” It had taken him a while to even reach out to Peeta after the bleed-over had let up. In fact, this was probably the first physical face-to-face interaction he’d had since then. “Have you talked with her at all?”
“I’m….not sure. I’ve texted her and she just seems to avoid wanting to come over, but at least she’s talking to me?” Peeta had no idea how women worked anymore since his last relationship failed spectacularly and he thought things were going well with Caroline, but he was also making sure to take his time. She was the type of girl that spooked easily, so maybe it was too much for her to stay two weeks at his place and take care of him while he got hurt trying to save the world in his own way. But, she was the type of girl who wanted to protect everyone, so that only confused him further.
With that comment he took his shot of whiskey and lifted it to his lips. He chased it with his beer and set the glass back down on the bar. Alcohol seemed to be the only thing that could help because eventually he would forget about his troubles with Caroline and he could just move onto thinking about something else. Or honestly, nothing at all, “I’ll figure it out eventually. I probably fucked up some way.”
“I doubt you fucked up,” Wash said after downing his shot. He signaled the bartender for another round. Their conversation warranted at least that. “A lot happened during the whole Arena thing. It didn’t give us a whole lot of chance to react or really process what was going on. I don’t know Caroline the way you do, but she stuck by you through the whole thing and that’s actually saying something, in my opinion. It’s possible she just needs to sort everything out in her own way. And even if that’s not the case and she is ghosting you, I still don’t think you did anything to cause it. People are weird, Mellark. They do weird things. There’s probably more to what she’s doing than her simply running out.”
A loud eruption of drunken laughter from a nearby table caused him to jump and cast a sharp glance over his shoulder. Stormy grey eyes narrowed at the group of loud locals for a moment before turning his attention back to his beer and his drinking companion.
“I’m probably the last person you should take relationship advice from,” Wash continued, trying his best to ignore the increasingly obnoxious ruckus coming from their neighbors. “But I gotta believe it’ll work itself out.”
“I’m hoping that’s just what it is. I mean, I didn’t intend to go out there and almost die a handful of times, which is going to be tough on anyone. She might be a big bad supernatural, but she’s still just a girl with a lot of feelings,” Peeta commented with a serious look upon his face. He really truly hoped that was all that was going on because he really cared about her. It was completely different from his last relationship and he didn’t enjoy the idea of losing her this quickly over something like his dreams, “I’ve just got to get her to talk to me. I might just have to show up at her work or school and bring this to a head. I’m fine with giving her time, which is why I’m not pushing it just yet.”
A small smirk appeared on his face at Wash’s comment about not being someone to take relationship advice for, but those were usually some of the best to get advice from. He was about to respond when the group of locals erupted with another cheer and some loud banging on the table they were surrounding. Annoyed green eyes rolled and he looked back to Wash, “Some people just have to be incredibly annoying, don’t they?”
“Of course you didn’t intend do. Who the fuck does?” Wash said with a grunt, willing to ignore the idiotic stand he had attempted to make against the jabberjays. Fucking birds.
He knocked back his shot and turned the glass upside down on the bar. “You’ll figure it out, Mellark,” he said with genuine feeling that Peeta would, one way or another. And if that way turned out to be bad, well then, Wash would be right there to help his brother-in-arms get up, dust him off and help him keep going on his way.
He picked up his beer and jumped in his seat with the second eruption from the neighboring table. Frothy amber liquid sloshed over the sides of the glass all over Wash’s hand and the bar. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he growled. He looked over again at the table, steel grey eyes narrowed angrily, then moved upwards towards the TV over the bar where a local college game was on that seemed to be the source of the commotion. Figures.
“Apparently.” Wash grumbled in response, turning his attention back to his friend. He ignored when one of the rowdies from the table came staggering up to the bar and practically draped himself across it to order another round, threatening to push Peeta off his stool in the process.
The birds and the monkeys were the worst part, but at least he had his guy friends to take his back and he was learning that he could trust Wash just as much he could trust Gale. There was an unbreakable bond between military members and Peeta was more than happy to hold onto his friends as long as he could.
It was really nice of Wash to keep his confidence up and Peeta reached over to clap him on the shoulder and took his own shot, “You’re a good man, Wash. Awful at backing away from jabberjays, but still pretty bad ass. I’ll take your relationship advice any day because at least you’re making me feel better.” A confidence boost was important and he was already starting to plan how he was going to talk to Caroline and hopefully it wouldn’t blow up in his face.
The noise from the group was so sudden that Peeta couldn’t help but tense up just slightly and he wanted to just go somewhere else besides this place. But there was no way that they were going to just leave because of a couple of frat bros wanted to be loud. Apparently Wash was quicker to anger than he was because he noticed that look in his friend’s eyes and almost flexed his grip on Wash’s shoulder to hold him back.
When the man came up to them and practically knocked him over Peeta removed his hand from Wash’s shoulder and pushed the man slightly, “Dude, watch it. You gotta give everyone a little room to breathe.” There was a measured annoyance in his voice as he spoke and he rolled his shoulders back slightly to appear slightly bigger than he was.
The muscles in Wash’s shoulders tensed when Peeta clapped his shoulder. Not in a way that indicated the touch was unwanted, but more of a way that belied his muscles were tensing for something considerably less friendly, as if they had learned the behavior and couldn’t quite tell the difference between a friendly slap on the shoulder or an actual strike.
Wash frowned at the guy propped up against the bar. He didn’t want trouble necessarily, but, goddammit, he and Peeta had come out to blow off some steam, talk, get to know each other while not under threat of some kind of fucked up shit. And here was this asshole drunkenly ruining everything because he couldn’t grasp the concept of personal space!
Wash reached out and grabbed Peeta by the shoulder to steady him on his stool, but let go when Peeta rolled his shoulders back. It was posturing and hopefully the guy would take the hint, apologize, get his drink and go back to his fucking table.
Nope.
“Hey, you watch it, asshole,” the guy fired back at Peeta, not quite slurring his words, but in a manner that clearly indicated he’d had his fill of drink for the evening and probably had next to zero inhibitions at the moment. He turned on Peeta and puffed out his chest in return. “You gotta problem? Huh? D’ya?” He puffed out his chest more, stepping closer to Peeta. “Am I in your space, holmes? Huh? Huh?”
Oh, this was just stupid. “Hey, man, back off,” Wash reached around Peeta to push the guy back. It was just a nudge, but the guy apparently was just unbalanced enough that the simple nudge caused him to stumble backwards and nearly fall over his feet.
“Hey, now boys,” the bartender snapped from his position behind the bar. “Knock it off or I’ll kick the lot of you out!”
This was feeling all too similar to when he got into a fight with Johanna at a bar after Gale’s fake-death and he could feel goosebumps rising on his skin as his anger started to rise. The heat turned his neck red and he really hoped that Wash wasn’t pick up on all the signals because he was already mad about the Panem and Caroline situation, so he was ready for any reason to pick a fight now.
When the guy began to invade his space even more he couldn’t help but swing his legs over and stand up against the bar stool. The guy’s breath reeked of light beer and he was not enthused at all that this was happening. It didn’t help that Peeta was a shorter guy, but he had a lot of pure muscle on him that no one ever really suspected. That was what helped him stay alive in the Hunger Games and he was more than willing to show that off right now.
Peeta was surprised that the nudge almost knocked the guy on his ass and his eyes showed that when they went a little wide. But apparently a warning from the bartender wasn’t going to stop this frat boy or even affect his inebriated mind and he was back up with rage in his eyes. Peeta didn’t have time to react when that fist came flying and caught him in the face. Oh that was it, the gauntlet was thrown. “Fuck!” Peeta cried out in surprise before reacting quickly and jumping the man, landing a couple punches on his way down to the floor.
Even with three shots of whiskey down his throat, Wash wasn’t nearly drunk enough to miss the tension as it mounted. He had hoped nudging the guy back would have stopped anything before it started. How was he supposed to know the asshat was so far into his cups that a simple tap would send him crashing backwards?
“What the fuck?!” Was his instant reaction when the dude got back up and took a swing at Peeta. The next moment, Wash was off his stool and grabbing for Peeta as the other soldier slammed into the drunk. He knew the nearby table containing the asshole’s compatriots had emptied the moment Peeta had cried out and he hoped to stop this before it escalated any further. “Hey, Mellark! Stand down!” He pulled Peeta off his opponent hoping he sounded more like a sergeant then the drinking buddy he had been just a moment ago. With any luck Peeta would recognize the order and follow it. He pulled Peeta back and attempted to wedge himself between the two fighters. “Stand dow - oomff!!”
The drunk asshole had apparently decided that despite Wash’s efforts to break up the fight, he was obviously his enemy now too and had landed a sucker punch square in Wash’s kidney. For a moment time stopped as pain exploded through Wash’s back and around his torso. He grabbed hold of the bar and Peeta’s shoulder to keep from collapsing to the floor. That rage he tried to keep caged up inside - the same rage that made him shoot the monster from his nightmares until he was out of bullets and then continue stomping the creature's head until it was pulp and gore; that same rage that had made him stand and fight the birds rather than retreat; the same rage he had unleashed on Gale when they were under the influence of a spell - it broke free and boiled up his throat spreading a kind of heat through his body along with his blood. Then everything was happening at once.
Wash whirled around and punched the dude square in the face with enough strength to knock him out. “I said stand the fuck down, asshole!”
No sooner had Wash punched the guy then his friends were on him and Peeta, coming just a bit too late to defend him, but showing no interest in stopping now that their buddy was down and out cold. If anything, the assault just made them want to fight more.
This was a part of Peeta that he kept hidden deep inside of him, but everything that had been happening with Panem being here and Caroline disappearing just finally boiled to the surface and this man had pushed all of Peeta’s buttons. His fist connected with flesh as fast as he could possibly throw his punches, but he did hear that voice from Wash. That voice that was thick with authority and the need to pull him back from the edge. It clicked something inside his mind to slow down and break it up, but when he managed to let up the frat boy decided to take it into his own hands.
Wash was the unexpected recipient of that punch from the douchebag into the kidneys and Peeta felt the grip on his shoulder as Wash doubled over. Oh hell no. This was not how this was going to go down and Peeta felt the rage rise up once again. He could take the beating, but minute someone turned on his friend then he was going to retaliate. Luckily Wash decided to take things by the horns and retaliated before Peeta was able to and Peeta could only watch in stunned silence as Wash hit that man with the best right hook he had seen in awhile. It was fucking fantastic to watch that asshole fall to the ground and Peeta almost let out a noise of excitement, but it was quickly cut short when the rest of the group jumped them.
Everything was a blur of punches and limbs flying as the group of men grappled with each other. Peeta lost count of who he was trying to attack, but he managed to make sure not to land anything on Wash in the process. Just as quickly as it started however he felt something tug at his throat and he realized it was the collar of his shirt as he was pulled out of the fray. Unfortunately Peeta wasn’t going to quietly and he was lashing out as quickly as he could as he was pulled out of the bar and tossed out. The words cops and soon were heard and Peeta realized that the bartender made good on their threat and the police were on their way.
“Wash?” He rasped out as he looked around for his friend.
An all out brawl had erupted in the middle of the bar and Wash was right in the center of it. It was chaos of fists and knees and elbows and possibly a pool cue. These guys had taken great exception to seeing their buddy get the shit knocked out of him, first by Peeta and then again by Wash, and they were hellbent on revenge. Fucking idiots. Wash was trained by the finest military force in the nation - he was a well oiled machine. Even if he had been looked on as the weakest member of his squad - the rookie - he was still better than these assholes. And with that anger fueling him? He was unstoppable.
He tried, at first, to keep Peeta within his sights. Make sure he didn’t accidentally punch his buddy in the madness and to make sure no one got the drop on him from behind, but it wasn’t long before he lost sight of him and was forced to concentrate all his efforts on the men looking to rearrange his face and dropping them before they dropped him. There was no room for thought. All Wash could see was red.
He didn’t hear the wail of sirens of the shouts of the officers through the fuzzy slosh of blood coursing through his ears. The next thing he was aware of was being shoved, chest first, up against the bar. Both of his arms were wrenched behind his back and Wash struggled and twisted, trying desperately to wrench himself free. It wasn’t until his face was shoved against the bartop and held there by an exceptionally pointy elbow to the back of his head and neck that he caught a glimpse of a blue uniform, a sidearm and a badge. God damn the police had gotten here fast! A moment later cold metal cuffs were secured around his wrists.
Wash stopped struggling and was still, breathing hard and the smell of stale alcohol that permeated the wood his face was pressed against lingered in his nose. He watched as the fight was squashed and the men he’d been fighting with also be wrestled into calm and cuffed. He didn’t see Peeta among them. As he was pulled off the bar and herded with the others towards the bar door, Wash hoped Peeta had somehow managed to get away. His talk with Caroline wouldn’t go well if she knew he’d been arrested for fighting a bunch of drunk townies.
Peeta did manage to get away...well, rather, he managed to get swept up in the crowd that was exiting the bar as soon as the Police showed their faces. It was completely unexpected, but Peeta couldn’t do much about it since he was in the thick of things. Thankfully he was able to get out of the middle of the group and went off to the side of the building. His body showed the wear and tear of a fight, so he wasn’t looking to get into the thick of the arrests, so he watched from behind the corner of the building.
Wash was still a no show and he knew the worst must have happened and his fears were only confirmed when he saw that familiar head being shoved into the back of a police car. A string of curses were muttered under his breath as he pulled out his cell phone and started trying to figure out how he could get his friend out of jail this evening. There wasn’t much he could do standing here, so he had to slowly make the walk back towards his car and get home to ice his face.