Knights in Shining Armor [Duke]

[Damien Gregory Hawkins]

Damien's phone buzzed just as he was settling down on his couch at his apartment. He looked at it, then at the half-finished novel in his hands. It had been an especially busy week at school so he'd been nursing this book along for far longer than usual. The avian had been happy with the thought of having the entire weekend to himself, to relax and sleep and recuperate. Ian was not accustomed to extra work, but because he'd volunteered as a substitute teacher (God knows why) and one of the staff had been sick, he'd been burdened with an additional workload.

So now we return to Damien, his hesitation to check the message fully explained. With a sigh he reached out and grabbed it off of the coffee table, scanning the lines of text. Of course. It was Duke, suggesting they hit up a bar. Where did the guy find so much energy? F'ing Labrador. His shift definitely suited him. He could see him dropping a slimy, grimy tennis ball in someone's lap, fetching endlessly. Grinning at the mental image, Ian rubbed the back of his neck, trying to decide what to do.

Shit. This was why being friends with your coworkers was so damn inconvenient. They always knew where and when to find you. And he worked in the same school as the guy, so he couldn't exactly claim to have a 24-hour bug or anything like that.

For the most part, Damien existed as an island. He didn't have any close personal friends or connections. Duke was the exception. He was the closest thing Damien had to a best friend, and probably the only person who could get him to haul his ass off of the couch to go get drunk. Or at least drink.

What the hell; it was Friday. Ian dropped his paperback on the coffee table, scooped up his phone and wallet and grabbed his jacket off the hook by the door. Damien didn't bother to check his appearance. While he wasn't exactly fastidious about how he looked, he always looked put together. Currently that meant a black button down shirt and jeans. As he walked down the stairs, he shot off a quick text to confirm that he was not, in fact, a hermit who ignored everybody outside of work. He opted to leave his car on the off-chance that he might have to get a cab back anyway. You didn't become a high-school teacher by being totally irresponsible.

---

Pushing open the door to the bar that was their mutual favorite, located just outside of the park. Damien's gaze raked across the row of backs sitting at the bar. Sure enough, there was Duke, already seated and more likely than not surveying his options. The avian shifter sat on the stool next to the other man, ordered a beer, and looked over the room. "Do they ever play anything besides 'Piano Man' in here?" he asked as a greeting.

OOC:: So, I was thinking that Duke will probably be the only person capable of making Damien coach a team. He should totally try to convince him while his guard is down. XD

[ALAN DUKE OUTLAW]

The work week had finally ended for one Alan Duke Outlaw, and boy was his raring to go!it was Friday night, and possibly one of the last Friday nights the male would have out for a decent while. Soon football practice would start, which would be nearly everyday and Saturday mornings, then after that Friday night games would commence and as long as the students could keep their composure and not risks shifting during the game in front of the other school teams they would continue the competition sport through the fall and then again into spring with preparations for the next year. So for this particular male, this Friday was special, and he'd be damned if he was going to spend it alone.

The counselor didn't live to horribly far from their favorite bar, so as soon as he decided he was heading out he sent a rather demanding and insulting text message to his best pal, Ian. "Hey you ingrate, gtfo of your damn panties, put some man pants on, and get outta yer house hermit boy! Ya know where to go, now GO!" .MESSAGE SENT. His phone displayed, he chuckled slightly to himself as he secured the buttons of his own dark blue jeans, smoothed out his deep red button down shirt, and tugged his feet into a pair of classic cowboy boots. The boots, surprisingly, didn't scream redneck, more like sophisticated country boy. Which he liked, cause that's damn well what he was. Duke rolled the sleeves of his button up all the way to about the crooks of his arms, not too hot and not too cold. Perfect.

The dark haired male continued to shove his wallet into his back pocket, checking the counters and making sure he hadn't forgotten anything before snagging the keys to his 1988, blue, Chevy Silverado. He loved that truck more than he could even comprehend, and he knew he'd probably end up drinking a little too much to drive her home tonight, but he didn't mind leaving her at the bar and taking a taxi home if necessary. He headed out of his small home, climbed into the large truck, clicked on the radio and was off. 'Am I the Only One' by Dierks Bentley came strumming through the speakers of the truck, the male rolled the windows down and started howling along with the song.

"Am I the only one who wants to have fun tonight?
is there anybody out there who wants to have a cold beer
Kick it to the morning light
If I have to raise hell all by myself
I will but y'all, that ain’t right
It’s time to get it on
Am I the only one who wants to have fun tonight?" Dule sang with pride, laughing some inbetween choruses as he came to stop lights and had some of the other drivers looking at him like he was crazy. He finally pulled up to the bar, a smile on his face as he saw a decent amount of vehicles in the parking lot and pulled into the closest one. The male sauntered into the somewhat crowded bar, heading to his usual seat closer to the juke box and dart board. The female bartender smiled at him, she was probably late forties with wild blonde hair teased in every way you could imagine. "Well, looky here what the cat dragged in, Howdy Mr Duke, ain't think I seen ya in a long time honey," The women smiled, patting the counter with her free hand, already pulling out an ice cold Bud Light and popping the cap off for the man. "There ya go darlin', bet you're gonna be wanting a smoke later too?" The blonde cackled joyfully, giving Duke a chance to reply. "Well howdy there ma'am, you're dang right Tammy, it has been a while." He reached out, taking the chilled bottle in one hand to bring to his lips for a short swig. "Aah, mm'mm, that sure hits the spot, and yes Ma'am I will be here after my buddy gets here." He commented, nodding his head towards the door.

As if on cue Ian had came into the bar not too long after Duke, strolling up and taking his usual seat besides his pal. "Do they ever play anything besides 'Piano Man' in here?" Duke let out a rough laugh, "Don't you know it! That's Miss Tammy's favorite song, so ya know it's got to play at least eight times before midnight." Another laugh came as Duke brought the beer back to his lips for a longer swig this time. "I'm glad ya came buddy, we needed another night out before school hot on full swing, ya know? Soon enough we'll be up to our damned necks in paper work." The male reached over and gave his buddy a strong pat on the back, sometimes Duke didn't know what he'd do without his counterpart, Ian. They really were like two peas in a pod.

[Damien Gregory Hawkins]

Sometimes Damien wondered what had led to the friendship between himself and Duke. It was informal and relaxed, and he never had to censor himself. Unconditional. That was the word he had been looking for. Still, it seemed somewhat... unlikely. It wasn't just the fact that Ian liked to distance his personal life from his job in every way possible, or that he distanced himself from other people in general. The two men themselves were different. Ian could only handle hard core, pure blooded country music in very small doses. Duke, however, couldn't seem to get enough of the stuff. Damien drove a black Lexus. Duke's truck... well, it matched his personality perfectly. I wasn't just their tastes in music and choice of automobiles, though. Duke could be anyone's friend, whereas Ian could be anyone's fake-friend. And then there was the biggest surprise of all, when it came to the friendship between the two men. Damien didn't open up to anyone, yet the Southern shifter had somehow managed to get his cowboy boot clad foot in the door and shove himself the rest of the way in.

When they first started their jobs at Sabal Palm during the same year, Ian had been happy to go out for drinks a handful of times. Before he knew it, though, he had somehow told the Southern gent all about his past engagement and current reluctance to have a serious relationship. Perhaps most surprising of all, Ian didn't give a shit. Duke was trustworthy.

Taking his usual seat at the bar, Ian smiled and nodded a "hello" at the bartender. Accepting his cold beer gratefully, the man took a deep drink before lowering the bottle back onto the bar. "Of course it is. Tammy, I meant no disrespect. I like Billy Joel as much as the next guy." He took a sip of his Bud as the woman laughed and waved away his apology. She wandered down the bar to take the drink orders of some other people. He watched her depart, then turned his head to the side to look at his buddy. "We're not going to mention work. At all. Agreed?" He held his beer out at an angle for a toast. "I get enough of it during the week." He honestly didn't know how Duke managed to handle his duties as a counselor and still be willing to coach the football team on top of it all. "To Fridays," he declared, sealing the toast with another deep swig.

[ALAN DUKE OUTLAW]

The dark haired male laughed at his friends remark about the song, Billy Joel was great, but it was tiring hearing the song so many times. But Tammy was a great bartender, and this was of course her bar so he wouldn't deny her her own guilty pleasures, but he was willing to mix it up a bit. "Okay, agreed no work. Fuck work. TO FRIDAY!" Duke cheered brightly, clinking his beer bottle with Ian's just hard enough to make them start foaming. "Drink up buddy!" The male jested, chugging from his beer before it foamed over and onto his hand. A rumbling burp erupted from Duke's open mouth, followed by raucous laughter. "I got a song for this moment, sir, give me your dollars." The male gave Ian a small shove, holding out his hand for any of Ian's spare change like a young boy asking for allowance.

"Tammy, another round, ma'am!" He called out across the bar, tossing his credit card on the bar near to Ian so she could start the boys up on a tab for the night. With Ian's spare change in tow, and a couple crumpled dollar bills from his own pocket Duke strutted on over to the jukebox with a nice playlist for the night singing in his head. First up, 'Alcohol' -Brad Paisley "Yeeehaww!" The male cheered out, not too loudly, but not very quietly either. Duke started singing out the lyrics, and surprisingly he had a rather good voice. "I got you in trouble in high school
but college now that was a ball
you had some of the best times
you'll never remember with me
Alcohol, Alcohol"

With a smirk on his face the male slid back into his seat and reached for his fresh beer from Tammy, the bottle cap already cracked off and ready. "Dang, I love that woman, I love this bar, I love my buddy!" Duke started laughing again, "To fridays." He stated before taking another swig. It was funny, Duke was no light weight, but all it took was a quick beer to get him hyped up and in a good mood. He didn't even need to get drunk to have a good time, but the alcohol made him pretty damned hilarious.

[Damien Gregory Hawkins]

Ian obligingly knocked back his beer, slamming the empty bottle back down onto the bar. He dug around in his pocket at his friend's demand, coming back with a handful of change. His eyes followed Duke to the jukebox, but when the man burst into song the avian turned back to the bar. Eyeing the credit card that lay before him, he called out to Tammy. "I have a feeling we're going to be here for a while; might as well get the good times rolling. Scotch and Soda. Time to get in touch with my English roots." Ian laughed dryly, accepting the drink with a gracious smile as it slid across to him. He glanced over at Duke when the man slid back into his seat. Taking a sip, he said, "You're like a kid on a sugar high. It's embarrassing." God, he'd need some stronger drinks before he could lighten up. Perhaps by the end of the night he'd be singing along with Duke. Damien grinned at the thought.

He felt his cell buzz in his pocket. Drawing it out, he scanned the screen for the name of the sender, then shut the phone off completely. It was nothing important, and he wasn't expecting anything from anyone. No need for unnecessary distractions; Ian was going to live in the moment tonight.

Pushing away from the bar, Ian got to his feet and turned to face the rest of the room. Dropping a hand on Duke's shoulder he said, "C'mon. Let's go shoot some pool while we still can." Damien didn't just go out for drinks. He went out with the full intention of waking up with the worst hangover on record the next morning. Unfortunately for his wallet, he was not a light weight and it took a while for him to get a good buzz.

Walking around the table, the man took billiard cues from the wall and tossed one to his friend. After assembling the balls on the table he stepped away with the triangular rack, letting his friend do the honors. Leaning back against the wall, he stared straight ahead and said, "My niece's birthday is coming up. I've got to fly back up to Boston for it, or else my brother'll never speak to me again." Trouble was, he was the only professor who had wings. There wasn't exactly anyone who could cover for him, but he was just playing it by ear until he had to make a decision. Fuck, that was work related. "Never mind, man. Standard 8-ball?"

[ALAN DUKE OUTLAW]

"Oh c'mon man, you /love/ me!" The football coach retaliated in response to the 'sugar high' comment his pal had shot at him. "Lighten up ya toad," Duke jested, playfully nudging Ian's shoulder and laughing. The male hadn't even noticed Ian checking his cell phone, some red haired female across the bar caught his eye, and with a smirk he gave her a small wave to which she returned as her tongue ran across her lips. "Hot damn honey," Duke muttered under his breath while turning back to Ian with a large grin.

"Pool? Sounds like a rip roaring good time to me!" The male spun the barstool halfway around, getting himself to his feet and strolling over to the billiards table where his good friend was racking up the balls. Duke spun the pool stick around in his somewhat calloused hands, pointing the blue-chalked end towards Ian, "You sir, worry yourself too much with all that shit, You been worried about that damn birthday for weeks now, we will get somewhat to cover ya for a few days, ain't gonna be that hard, right?"

Duke retracted the pool stick, making a loud light saber sound as he did so, "Play eight-ball, we must," He responded to Ian in the most southern Yoda voice anyone had probably ever heard. The dark haired male came around the table after Ian was finished racking, "May I?" He asked, not really expecting an answer as he lined up his shot and with a loud crack, broke the set. Balls glided across the velvety green table, a bright, solid yellow ball landed in the far right pocket. "You're stripes, buddy," Duke commented before lining up another shot, the solid blue ball missing the pocket by just a hair and bouncing off the sidewall. "Hell, I'm sure you've got at least one student in all your classes who's a whiz kid, I could sit in on the classes and let them run the lessons and just make sure no one gets to killin' themselves.."

[Damien Gregory Hawkins]

Ian remained leaning against the wall, watching Duke calmly. He didn't interrupt him; the man was right. He felt the reflexive need to argue back though, and so shot back, "I'm sorry Fido, did you grow a pair of wings since we last talked?" Although he scowled, the comment didn't have any power behind it. His family did not expect much from him anymore, but if Ian failed to meet the very basic criteria of showing up for a favorite niece's birthday and taking up his role as the favorite uncle... well, he didn't want to lose the semblance of peace that he'd established with his siblings. Besides that, the wrath of a newly turned nine-year-old was unbearable to imagine. "I have to stay on Jenna's good side. She's the only one left who doesn't look at me with that face and make snide comments about paychecks." Damien laughed, showing that he was taking Duke's advice and lightening up.

Duke's next suggestion made more sense, so he just shrugged and nodded. He'd find someone to leave in charge and lay out some basic drills. If Matsumara felt like being a hard ass about it... well, hopefully the relative rarity of qualified avian flight instructors would pull through for him on that one. He was not irreplaceable, but still damn hard to replace.

Mentally shrugging off the worry, Damien stepped forward and eyed the position of the balls. Downing the remainder of his drink, he set the empty glass on a table behind him and leaned over the table. He managed to pocket two balls before he missed a shot and sent the cue ball careening across the table and landing solidly in a pocket. "My bad." He returned to his previous spot, leaning back against the wall. He surveyed the other patrons idly, returning a couple of glances from a handful of eligible bachelorettes. Smirking, he looked back at Duke, calling out "Don't miss!" just as the other man was about to strike the cue ball. Yes, he still did that.

[ALAN DUKE OUTLAW]

Duke shot Ian a couple barks in response to his 'Fido' comment, "Don't hate on me birdbrain!" The male teased, watching Ian take his shots carefully. He couldn't help but smile at his friend, poor guy was always worried about that damn niece. But, he had to hand it to him for keeping such connections with his family, Duke had a hard time keeping up with his own flesh and blood, too busy worrying about everyone else's. Blue eyes roamed the bar, finding a green eyed red head near the jukebox, and boy was she pretty. "My bad."

[/b] Ian's voice broke through Duke's increasingly naughty thoughts of the red head and brought his attention back to the table, "Awh, c'mon man, ya can't do better than sinkin' the cue ball?"

The male smirked, trotting around the table, retrieving the cue ball and placing it carefully on the table. He made sure to give himself the most optimal shots with his placement of the cue ball. Duke leaned down over the edge of the table, eyeing the prospective points to be made, thinking it over. He readied for his shot, then as close to Duke's ear he could get Ian cried out "Don't miss!" Duke's pool stick shot out, just narrowly missing the cue ball, which was lucky for him because now he could redo the shot. "And you're over here tellin' me I act like a dang kid?" The male retaliated to his friend, giving him a poke in the side with the butt of his pool stick before quickly realigning another shot.

With a small crack the cue ball hit a striped ball which sailed across the table and knocked two solid balls into the same hole. "Oooh yes! How do ya like them apples?" Duke cried out, raising a fist in victory before resuming to take another couple shots, the first one sending one solid into a pocket, and the next sending a stripe in by accident. "Well, damn, guess I spoke too soon!" The male stated with a small laugh, finishing his beer in a long gulp. "Ready for another?" Duke asked, not really intending for an answer as he headed back to the bar for another round. The red headed female had now relocated right next to him, good timing, right?

"Well, howdy there sweet thing, would you like a drink?" Duke gave the red head a wide smile, leaning one arm on the bar and the other held out for her hand. "Name's Duke, and yours?" The red head smiled, blushing slighlty as she placed her hand in his which he promptly kissed. "Catie, and I could use a drink, but you don't have to of course." The female responded. Duke winked, turning to the bartender Tammy and ordered himself and Ian a beer, and letting the female order whatever it was she liked.
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[Damien Gregory Hawkins]

So maybe Fido was not the most creative name he could have come up with, but Birdbrain? As if he'd never heard that one before. Honestly, it was like Duke wasn't even trying. Or maybe there was just a sad lack of good avian themed nicknames. He shot Duke an unimpressed look, an undeniable glint of humor in his green eyes.

Ian could do better than sinking the cue ball, but he didn't have anything riding on this game and so did not bother concentrating all of his energy on it. An low-key way to pass the time and fill the silences was how he regarded pool. It also kept his hands occupied so he didn't have to keep knocking back shots all night. He leaned away slightly when the butt of the cue stick jabbed him in the ribs, but didn't shift his feet. He knocked it away with a free hand, jerking his chin back toward the pool table in a silent demand that Duke get back to taking his shot. His brows lifted marginally to show that it was an impressive shot, giving way to a satisfied smirk when Duke missed.

Damien stepped forward now that his turn was up. "Sure," he started to say, but Duke was already en route to the bar. "Since you're buying," he finished to himself with a laugh. The man lined up his shot but did not strike yet. He was eyeing his partner, who had apparently gotten sidetracked by the first shiny thing he came across. Seeing that the shiny thing happened to be an attractive red-head, Damien could only shake his head and take a couple of shots.

When he thought about it, Damien could only marvel at what a cliche case he was. His last serious relationship had left with him serious commitment issues, so now he coasted through life on a completely superficial level. Like he'd been pulled straight out of a chick flick. It didn't bother him enough to spur him into changing, though. 3 striped balls glided across the table, depositing themselves nicely into pockets, before Ian's turn was up. On his last shot, a striped ball narrowly missed the pocket, rebounding off the edge of the table and shooting back into the middle. "Well, fuck." Damien didn't sound particularly annoyed as he said it.