![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sabinetzinTitle: Out of Touch (With the Rhythm and Blues)
Summary: Nick's is always an experience; tonight, that's especially true.
Fandom: Avengers
Word Count: 767
Rating/Contents: G, love at first sight types of behavior, Tony being Tony
Pairing: Clint/Coulson, Steve/Tony
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: So apparently Jeremy Renner sings, and oh my. So that is what drove me to this little thing. IDK if there's more of it- I severely doubt it, but EVERY time I say that, I end up being wrong.
The place is called Nick's, and it's been here as long as Phil can remember, even when he was a kid. It sits between Pizza Hut and an eyeglasses-in-an-hour place now, but walking inside is an experience. It's a carefully preserved slice of time, the kind of lounge that hasn't been around in forty, fifty years. Nick- this big black guy who wears an eyepatch and who is apparently the third Nick, there was a Stan and a Jackie in there- keeps the place up, but despite the fact that it's clean, the furnishings new, it still looks kind of seedy, dark. The place is rarely full, especially not when Phil goes, but that's one of the selling points, as far as Phil is concerned.
They don't sell his scotch, which is kind of ridiculous, but Phil doesn't put up a fuss about it. The bartender makes a mean Old Fashioned, and Phil's developed a definite taste for them; it doesn't hurt that the big blond pours just about as heavily as is possible. Phil usually gets there around five-thirty, five-forty-five, depending on how work is treating him, and the music starts around six. Today he's late, and the waiter, Steve, has his drink ready as soon as he slips into his usual booth. He takes a sip, lifting it at the bartender- they call him Thor, for reasons that baffle Phil- who gives him a grin.
It's just about time for the piano part of the piano bar to kick in. He's expecting the usual guy, Tony; he's short and cocky, accompanies himself, banters charmingly with the crowd, flirts outrageously with Steve. His voice is a little scratchy, but attractively so. He knows what he's doing, starting off with light stuff, originals mixed in, calm and relaxed during dinner, ramping it up to the kind of stuff everybody knows afterwards, when people are happy and drunk and maybe in the mood to sing along.
Phil comes here too often.
Except that it's not Tony at all. It's a woman in a skin-tight black dress; he thinks her name is Natasha, but he's only ever seen her up there once. She's got a good voice, kind of a torch song thing, though it's not really Phil's style. There's a guy following her; he wears his suit like he's uncomfortable in it, pulling at his sleeves.
Phil's surprised when it's Natasha who sits down at the piano. The nervous guy walks over to the microphone, blinking a little at the spotlight, and Phil is intensely curious as to how this is going to go. He's accepted that he's a little mean, but listening to someone struggling up there is only going to be funny for a song or two before it just gets sad.
He patters for a bit, a little "How's everybody doing tonight?" that mostly falls flat. He's underwhelming, so far, his speaking voice is nothing to write home about. A couple of minutes, and he seems to know what's going on; he cues Natasha kind of abruptly, like it's now or never, like he's just about to lose his nerve.
It's a Billy Joel song, which is kind of disappointing, predictable. Natasha's not a particularly smooth player, and all of this is going south very quickly.
But he shuts his eyes, and he opens his mouth, and Phil is absolutely blown away. His voice is big, soulful, and as soon as he's singing, his nervousness falls off, like it was never supposed to be there in the first place.
Phil is enthralled, completely lost. It feels like he's singing just for Phil; he might well be, based on the fact that there's still chatter going on amongst the few other tables. The singer looks straight at him, and even from so far away his gaze is penetrating, dead on, like he's drawn a bead on Phil, got him in his sights.
Someone suddenly drops into the seat across from him, and Phil startles. It's Nick, and Phil tries not to be obvious about the fact that he's looking around him, not wanting to take his eyes off the singer. Nick turns back, following Phil's line of sight; when he turns back around, he's grinning widely, like he's totally got Phil's number.
"His name is Clint, and Tony's coming in at eight to replace him," Nick tells him, and Phil just nods. It's not enough time, and it's an eternity from now.
Nick grins at him again as he stands up, leaving Phil alone with Clint; Phil takes a sip of his drink and just listens.
Summary: Nick's is always an experience; tonight, that's especially true.
Fandom: Avengers
Word Count: 767
Rating/Contents: G, love at first sight types of behavior, Tony being Tony
Pairing: Clint/Coulson, Steve/Tony
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: So apparently Jeremy Renner sings, and oh my. So that is what drove me to this little thing. IDK if there's more of it- I severely doubt it, but EVERY time I say that, I end up being wrong.
The place is called Nick's, and it's been here as long as Phil can remember, even when he was a kid. It sits between Pizza Hut and an eyeglasses-in-an-hour place now, but walking inside is an experience. It's a carefully preserved slice of time, the kind of lounge that hasn't been around in forty, fifty years. Nick- this big black guy who wears an eyepatch and who is apparently the third Nick, there was a Stan and a Jackie in there- keeps the place up, but despite the fact that it's clean, the furnishings new, it still looks kind of seedy, dark. The place is rarely full, especially not when Phil goes, but that's one of the selling points, as far as Phil is concerned.
They don't sell his scotch, which is kind of ridiculous, but Phil doesn't put up a fuss about it. The bartender makes a mean Old Fashioned, and Phil's developed a definite taste for them; it doesn't hurt that the big blond pours just about as heavily as is possible. Phil usually gets there around five-thirty, five-forty-five, depending on how work is treating him, and the music starts around six. Today he's late, and the waiter, Steve, has his drink ready as soon as he slips into his usual booth. He takes a sip, lifting it at the bartender- they call him Thor, for reasons that baffle Phil- who gives him a grin.
It's just about time for the piano part of the piano bar to kick in. He's expecting the usual guy, Tony; he's short and cocky, accompanies himself, banters charmingly with the crowd, flirts outrageously with Steve. His voice is a little scratchy, but attractively so. He knows what he's doing, starting off with light stuff, originals mixed in, calm and relaxed during dinner, ramping it up to the kind of stuff everybody knows afterwards, when people are happy and drunk and maybe in the mood to sing along.
Phil comes here too often.
Except that it's not Tony at all. It's a woman in a skin-tight black dress; he thinks her name is Natasha, but he's only ever seen her up there once. She's got a good voice, kind of a torch song thing, though it's not really Phil's style. There's a guy following her; he wears his suit like he's uncomfortable in it, pulling at his sleeves.
Phil's surprised when it's Natasha who sits down at the piano. The nervous guy walks over to the microphone, blinking a little at the spotlight, and Phil is intensely curious as to how this is going to go. He's accepted that he's a little mean, but listening to someone struggling up there is only going to be funny for a song or two before it just gets sad.
He patters for a bit, a little "How's everybody doing tonight?" that mostly falls flat. He's underwhelming, so far, his speaking voice is nothing to write home about. A couple of minutes, and he seems to know what's going on; he cues Natasha kind of abruptly, like it's now or never, like he's just about to lose his nerve.
It's a Billy Joel song, which is kind of disappointing, predictable. Natasha's not a particularly smooth player, and all of this is going south very quickly.
But he shuts his eyes, and he opens his mouth, and Phil is absolutely blown away. His voice is big, soulful, and as soon as he's singing, his nervousness falls off, like it was never supposed to be there in the first place.
Phil is enthralled, completely lost. It feels like he's singing just for Phil; he might well be, based on the fact that there's still chatter going on amongst the few other tables. The singer looks straight at him, and even from so far away his gaze is penetrating, dead on, like he's drawn a bead on Phil, got him in his sights.
Someone suddenly drops into the seat across from him, and Phil startles. It's Nick, and Phil tries not to be obvious about the fact that he's looking around him, not wanting to take his eyes off the singer. Nick turns back, following Phil's line of sight; when he turns back around, he's grinning widely, like he's totally got Phil's number.
"His name is Clint, and Tony's coming in at eight to replace him," Nick tells him, and Phil just nods. It's not enough time, and it's an eternity from now.
Nick grins at him again as he stands up, leaving Phil alone with Clint; Phil takes a sip of his drink and just listens.
