Summary: Niall is a down-on-his-luck stockbroker married to his work, one night he’s dragged -literally dragged by the lapel of his Armani suit and suede tie- to a local dive bar where an up and coming Indie band is playing and Niall definitely doesn’t keep returning because of the charming lead singer.
A/N: So this was supposed to be a one shot but then I had too many ideas and it turned into this mini-fic. Based on this prompt by Narrying (modified due to the length. I’d also like to thank my B- in Macroeconomics)
It’s barely reaching midnight -a time Niall normally works well past and into the early morning hours when the sun is barely licking the hillsides- paperwork piled on his desk back at the office and even more scattered across his coffee and dining room tables, some files probably shoved up into his end tables along with his weekly subscriptions to the paper and local gossip magazines, but here he is stationed at a bar with a scotch and soda.
Usually he doesn’t do this, he hasn’t been out to a bar since he started interning down at the Stock Exchange -about ten years ago when he made less than minimum wage running coffee errands and ordering takeout- typical Friday night consist of overpriced white wine and practically tearing his hair out trying to close billion dollar investments with the television in the background to fill the silence -so he’s not so alone.
For blacknoonajade because she wanted domestic!OnHo. If it sucks, I’m sorry! But hopefully it brings you a smile.
There was a time when the images of a Friday night invoked images of chilled white wine, slow songs with dirty beats playing in the background, and promises to get a new padded headboard after a vigorous thrust left dents in the wall again. They rarely planned more than a few weeks in advance for anything, because setting their lives in stone left no room for spontaneous adventures.