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Los Santos was alive most at night. When the artificial lights shine brighter than the sun, when all the real business happens between whispers and concealed hands. And the bars were the most lively, the music swirling through the streets, the sounds of people’s yells and laughs bouncing off the buildings. It was no different this night, at a small but no less crowded bar in the Fakes area of the city. A favorite and Trevor knew that this is where everyone will be.
Trevor can only sigh as he walks up to the dive bar, the building vibrating with shouting and crashing. A pair tight in a brawl burst from the door, nearly colliding with Trevor as they fell to the street. Not breaking apart as they roll around and chase each other down. Trevor rolls his eyes, sidestepping as he pulls the door open and heads in.
Inside, fists and feet were flying. It was every definition of a bar brawl, people wrestling. Broken bottles and shattered wood scattered everywhere. Two people locked in arms pass in front of Trevor, collapsing a table that splinters and crashes. He hears all the voices blurring together, some unfortunately familiar. But as Trevor scans the place, it doesn’t take long to find the center.
Gavin sits on a stool at the bar, one arm resting on it as he is facing the crowd. His legs were crossed, with a foot tapping to the barely audible music. He shifts just enough to avoid a brawl slamming besides him, lip pulling into a smirk as he takes a drink from some brightly colored concoction. His sunglasses are on, the scenes of violence reflecting against the gold as he watches like he was enjoying a movie.
Trevor has always known Gavin was a talented fuck. Gavin knows how to wrap people around his finger, get people to do what he wants without them even realizing. Unfortunately, Gavin doesn’t tend to use these powers for good.
“Free,” Trevor huffs, pulling one of the only standing stools over to sit besides him. “Fredo said you got here only 15 minutes ago.”
Gavin laughs. “New record, innit? Barely even had to talk this time. Just a few looks, a few winks. Bloody almost got hit!”
“Gavin,” Trevor says, glaring. “Seriously, I thought I told you to lay low.”
“We are laying low. No one will be able to remember anyone in this. And besides, Michael and Jeremy needed a go-” Gavin points and Trevor dreads looking over but does anyway. Sees Michael and Jeremy laughing as they both are taking on four different guys. It is impressive to watch, the two twirl perfectly around each other, knocking out their drunken opponents. At least Trevor knows their brawlers can handle these bar fights. But there was one more.
“And Alfredo?” Trevor huffs.
Gavin blinks, mind falling in a sudden realization and looks around. “Bloody hell, where did he go? He was the one that wanted a bar fight!”
Trevor lets out a deep sigh at that, standing back up. He drops a few hundreds onto the counter, nodding to the cowering bartender who stood in the corner. Then he faces the crowd, glaring. He lifts his hand and lets out a piercing whistle.
The bar stills instantly. People pause mid swing, with arms wrapped in headlocks, bottles settling onto the floor. Michael and Jeremy both drop who they were wrestling, exchanging sheepish looks as Trevor speaks.
“I’m sure you’re all having fun here. But I would suggest to anyone I do not know to leave. Now.”
People just stare, frozen in their place. “Now.” Trevor snarls, voice thick with unsaid threats, and finally the crowd kicks into action, scrambling out of the bar.
“Cmon, Trevor,” Jeremy whines as they step over, whipping their bloody knuckles on their shirt. “We were just getting into it!”
“And now you’re done,” Trevor huffs. “Do you two idiots know where Alfredo is?”
“Is everyone gone?” a small voice is heard behind them and they all glance to see a familiar pair of eyes peeking out from under the bar.
Gavin smirks, shaking his head. “Trevor scared everyone off. You’re safe now.”
Alfredo sighs, climbing out and over the bar, sitting on the ledge. “Fuck, that shit got intense .”
Michael smirks, laughing. “That’s what fucking bar brawls are. You’re the one who said you wanted to be in one. Because you’ve never been in a fucking proper fight before.”
Alfredo shrugs. “Well, I can scratch that off my bucket list. Can I go to bed yet? I think I’ve had my experience and I learned it doesn’t need to happen again.”
“You’re all heading home,” Trevor sighs. “We have a heist tomorrow. In case you forgot.”
“We’re all ready,” Michael laughs, leaning over the bar to grab another bottle of beer. But Trevor smacks his hand, swiping the bottle away.
“We can drink more after the heist. So you don’t have hangovers. And can focus.”
“We really didn’t drink that much,” Jeremy assures. “One beer each so far. We know not to be too impaired for a heist.”
“At least one of you is responsible,” Trevor hums. “Fredo, you ok?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he assures, grinning. “Just didn’t expect the fight to involve so many fucking people. Gav can rile a whole crowd in seconds.”
“It’s one of my many talents,” Gavin purrs then laughs, setting his drink aside and standing up. He opens his wallet, slipping out another stack of cash and setting it down. He just winks to the poor bartender who’s still squished into the corner, shaking. “I’m sure this’ll cover the damages, luv. Sorry about all this.”
The bartender just nods, carefully taking the cash, eyes widening as they flip through the hundreds that Trevor and Gavin have both set out. Enough for the damages and more.
The night air chills through all of them, as Trevor leads the way out to the cars. Michael and Jeremy laugh and push each other around, retelling their victories of the night. Alfredo sheepishly adds the hits he got in, earning cheers. Trevor rolls his eyes, but can’t help the fond smile that grows. He knew how much he was inheriting, taking over more of Ramsey’s roles, becoming the boss. And while these idiots certainly don’t make the role easy, he doesn’t regret it at all.