All For You [New Girl]

16. Fighting

"Son of a bitch," Winston groaned as he stepped into the living room of the loft. It was noon on Friday and the apartment was indeed sun-soaked. Light streamed in like waterfalls through the windows. It was a beautiful day. And he had a terrible headache.

"How's it going, party animal?" Jess asked with a smile. She sipped from a mug of coffee Claire had gotten her. It was embossed with tiny cupcakes. Winston pressed the heel of his hand into his temple and winced.

"I think I might have had too much to drink last night."

"Oh really?" Schmidt deadpanned. He had just emerged from his own bedroom.

"Well, technically, too much to eat," Jess chirped.

"Yeah, that pie was delicious. Do we still have some?"

"Yeah. It's right over there on the counter-Winston! Don't eat it now!" He was already shoveling it into his mouth with a fork straight from the pie tin, holding the dish close to his face so his fork had less of a distance to travel. Jess sighed, resigned.

"You know," she said, "As weird as it was, that was actually a pretty calm Thanksgiving." Schmidt gave her a look.

"You can't just dance around the name 'Chillgrims Day,'" he said. She ignored him.

"It was nice hanging out with you guys," she said. Winston made a garbled noise that could have passed an impression of a garbage disposal.

"What?" Jess said at the same time as Schmidt asked, "Winston, chew your food." Winston swallowed before answering.

"Except for the end."

"It was bound to happen. Nick is naturally wired to argue at least once every twelve hours," Schmidt said.

"He had a point, though," Winston said. 

"Nick?" Jess asked.

"About Colin. Talking to that guy is like waiting for a light to turn green."

"Hey," Jess interjected indignantly. Winston pressed on.

"Like being on hold with the IRS. Like unsalted tortilla chips."

"Be nice!"

"He's the human embodiment of standing in line in a place without WiFi," Winston concluded before he dived back in the pie.

"Jess, you don't actually like the guy, do you?" Schmidt asked.

"I... I think we should be supportive of our friend." Schmidt and Winston made dismissive noises.

"Be supportive of Nick," Schmidt said, "He might genuinely be losing it." As if on cue, Nick burst out of his room and declared that he had invented a new drink and he was going to the bar to test it out. Jess, Schmidt, and Winston looked at him softly. 

"Why are you guys looking at me like I'm dying?"

"We just want you to be happy," Jess said sweetly. Nick made a turtle face and walked out of the apartment.

"If you really wanted him to be happy you'd hit Colin with an unmarked vehicle and drive away," Schmidt told Jess. Winston lifted his fork in agreement.

~~~~~

Nick spent the entire afternoon not thinking about Claire. He didn't think about her every time the jukebox started playing a song she liked. He didn't think about her every time someone ordered her favorite drink and he had to tell them he wasn't actually working, he was just perfecting what was bound to be the newest trend in cocktails. No thinking about Claire. No thinking. Just drinking.

He mixed and shook and twisted and zested for hours. He felt a bit like a chemist, but a cool chemist. He was so absorbed in his alchemy that it took him a minute to realize that a fight had broken out in the bar. Two scrappy guys, probably in their late-twenties, were pummeling each other to the best of their ability. Stabbing each other with their skinny elbows and shouting incomprehensibly. Nick looked at the two men and then down at his drink. It was a vivid shade of dark blue, as mesmerizing as a night sky. Breaking up bar brawls was not his job. He was off duty. He looked around for someone to shift responsibility, but no one else was in sight. The other patrons of the bar watched with tired amusement. He groaned. Out from behind the bar he went.

"Come on guys, break it up." He got between them and held them away from one another like a school teacher separating rowdy children.

"No fighting in the bar," he said, "Take it outside."

"He stole my boyfriend!" one of the guys shouted, more to his enemy than to Nick.

"I didn't steal him. He broke up with you!" the other one shouted back. Nick sighed. He was getting too old for this. And now that he was closer, he could see that these kids were clearly under the legal drinking age.

"I don't care who stole whose boyfriend. You're too old to be fighting. And get out of here. You're too young to be in here." He shepherded them out of the establishment. Kids, he thought mildly. He almost missed being at an age where disputes could be settled by a good old fashioned wrestling match. But things were more complicated now and had been for a while. Bills, sex, relationships. None of that was solved by fighting. When he got back to his drink, it didn't seem as bright or interesting. He took a sip and spit it out into the trash. Yikes. The pickle juice was not interacting well with the cotton candy liquor. Before he could dump it all out, movement across the bar caught his eye again. The kids were back and they were stealing drinks off tables. 

"Get out of here!" Nick yelled at them. He clumsily scooped up a handful of ice cubes and started throwing them and he got closer. 

"Go on, git!" A couple made contact and the kids scrambled away. Nick stood in the doorway and threw ice cubes until the kids were out of view. Back behind the bar again and determined to stay there, he realized the ice cubes had spilled all over the floor. He crouched down. He made light work of picking them up, shoving most of them out of the way so they could melt in peace. As long as no one stepped on them and cracked their skull open, he didn't care. Satisfied with his work he stood back up. There was someone sitting in front of him that hadn't been there before.