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proxima-writes · 1 year

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title: toyin’ with them older guys

pairing: bartender!joel miller/female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

chapters: 1/1

read on ao3 | masterlist

summary:

Joel Miller is the grumpy bartender and owner of your favorite bar near campus, where you attend trivia every Tuesday night. Thinking there’s no way Joel could return your feelings, your friend suggests trying out Tinder.

But when you bring them to the bar for a date, they keep leaving mid date with no explanation.

Maybe there’s something Joel isn’t telling you after all.

author’s note: thank you to everyone who hyped me up to post this when i wasn’t sure how i felt about it. your comments mean the world 💕

content warnings/additional tags: explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), alternate universe - no cordyceps outbreak, no use of y/n, unspecified age gap, alcohol references/consumption, possessive behavior, jealousy, mild violence (in the form of Joel kicking someone out of his bar), brief reference to Sarah’s mom and divorce, tinder dates, bribery, dirty talk, begging, pet names, praise kink, unprotected p in v, oral (m receiving), spanking. let me know if i’ve missed anything!

There’s a bar near the university that you love to go to for multiple reasons.

For one, they have great drinks. For two, their loaded tater tots are the best drunk food you’ve ever had the pleasure of consuming.

But the number one reason, above all else, is the grumpy bartender and owner, Joel Miller.

The first time you saw him, he was challenging a kid with a fake ID, his arms crossed over his broad chest, emphasizing the strain of his flannel over his biceps. When the kid tried to take a swing at him, he grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back before marching him out of the bar and kicking him to the curb.

Your friend had to remind you to breathe.

He hosts a trivia night at the bar on Tuesday nights, the perfect excuse to see the man weekly. You sit at the bar each time, scribbling your answers on the notepad as you sip on a vodka cranberry and sneak glances at the older man while he works.

One night, you were struggling to answer a question about where the Lord of the Rings trilogy was filmed when Joel leaned across the bar, bringing his lips close to your ear to say, “New Zealand.”

You’d gotten the point, thanks to him. And from that day forward, he’d linger near your corner of the bar, watching to see if you needed help with an answer. Eventually, you started showing up earlier and earlier for trivia night, just for the chance to talk to him.

You told him about your PhD program and the research you were conducting. You wanted to be a psychologist, but for now you’re just a perpetual student. You miss winter weather in Colorado, but appreciate not having to store a giant jacket anywhere in your small apartment. Your favorite season is fall, and your favorite holiday is Halloween.

He tells you about buying the bar a few years ago, after his divorce from Sarah’s mom and ensuing custody battle had been finalized, an investment he made with his brother Tommy. They’d fixed it up themselves and made it a popular local spot. His favorite movie is Indiana Jones and he prefers whiskey over any other drink.

It’s no surprise that along the way you’d fallen in love with the man.

Too bad he’d never feel the same.

————

Joel remembers the first night he saw you. Your rosy cheeks and tipsy smile as you leaned forward to say, “Vodka cranberry, please. With lime .”

“Lime, huh?” He remembers saying. You nodded your head vigorously.

“The lime is the best part,” you insisted. He chuckled.

“Not the vodka?”

“Gross, no.”

He tossed in three lime slices and you shimmied your shoulders with glee.

You come into the bar, alone, for trivia night on Tuesdays now. You’re a fountain of random facts, but every once in a while he’ll feed you an answer to help you out because he likes the smile that you give him in return.

He has no right to be looking at you the way that he finds himself doing every week. Eyes wandering to the way your jeans hug your ass or drifting to your cleavage when you rest your elbows against the bar.

But between the conversations and the trivia and the sweet smiles, he’d gone and fallen in love.

Which is why when you come to trivia night with a man who wraps an arm around your waist, Joel loses his goddamn mind and does the stupidest thing ever.

You get up to go to the bathroom and Joel leans across the bar to address the guy, keeping his eyes on the bathroom.

“I’ll give you $100 if you leave right now,” Joel says.

“What?”

“Hundred bucks if you walk out that door and don’t talk to that girl again,” he says again. He digs his wallet from his pants and pulls a bill out, setting it on the bar top.

Without further question, the man grabs the money and stuffs it in his pocket as he heads out the door. Joel feels a flash of guilt when you return from the bathroom and look around for your missing date.

“Said he had an emergency,” Joel lies. He’s surprised when you look relieved.

“He was kind of boring, anyways,” you shrug, dragging your notepad and pen closer to you. “He probably would have just dragged us down.”

Us, Joel thinks.

He could get used to that.

________

Your friend, Marie, had convinced you to try out Tinder. She was absolutely certain you were missing out on the love of your life by not swiping mindlessly through profiles that held no interest to you.

You weren’t about to confess your unrequited love for the local bartender to get her off your case, so that’s how you ended up on a date with Michael. He was a law student and liked kayaking and hiking.

You liked neither of those things, but he had curly brown hair and you had a type, so why not give it a shot?

You didn’t have it in you to be too upset when you returned from the bathroom only to find out from Joel that Michael had left. Joel slid you another vodka cranberry with lime and your night went as it always did.

When Marie asked you the next morning how the date went and you told her he bailed, she insisted on picking your next one. She chose Scott, a financial analyst at a local bank.

You’re starting to think Marie doesn’t know you very well.

Regardless, you show up at the bar for another trivia night date. Scott is tall and lean, with blonde hair and blue eyes, and he wore a suit to a bar. When you comment on it, he pulls a face and says he came straight from work.

“Not all of us are lucky enough to not have real jobs,” he says. You blink at him, surprised by the hostility.

That hostility continues when Joel approaches the two of you at the bar, lips turned down in a scowl, and Scott decides to order for you.

“She’ll take a vodka water with lemon and I’ll have Bulleit, neat.”

Joel raises his eyebrows at Scott, his eyes flicking to you briefly, before he sets a plastic cup on the bar top. He holds Michael’s gaze as he pours a shot of vodka into your cup, before using the soda gun to dispense cranberry juice. You have to bite back your smile.

“Vodka cranberry with lime,” he says, sliding you your drink. “And your whiskey will be right out.”

“That’s not what I ordered,” Scott replies.

“Yeah, but it’s what she would’ve.”

Scott sputters, face going an alarming shade of red with his indignation.

“I’ll be right back,” you mutter, taking your drink with you as you head to the bathroom.

________

“I’m not paying for that drink,” the blonde asshole says, knocking his knuckles against the bar for emphasis. Joel huffs a laugh.

“I don’t give a shit, kid. I want you out of my bar,” he says, planting both hands on the wood.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Get the fuck out of my bar.”

“I’m on a date!”

“Not anymore.” Joel rounds the bar and gets up in the little weasel’s face. “Get. Out.”

The boy’s eyes go wide, like he realizes that maybe Joel isn’t playing around. He scrambles from his barstool, standing to his full height like he’s about to challenge Joel.

“You can’t kick me out, old man,” the blonde snaps.

Joel’s had enough. He fists a hand in the starched white shirt collar, driving him back towards the exit. The other patrons move out of the way, some whistling and cheering Joel on. He shoves the man out the door and looks at the doorman.

“He doesn’t come back inside,” he says. “And you? Don’t ever fuckin’ talk to her again.”

Joel returns to the bar as you’re walking up. For a moment, he worries that you may have seen him acting like a caveman getting rid of his competition, but you look around in confusion.

“Where’s Scott?” You ask.

“He forgot about somethin’ at work,” Joel says. Your brow furrows.

“Kinda weird that’s happened to me twice now,” you comment.

Joel just shrugs.

________

You don’t tell Joel about how you saw him throw Scott out of his bar that night.

You’d just left the bathroom when you saw Joel stomp out from behind the bar, his eyes dark and fixed on your date. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, but based on the affronted way Scott was responding, it wasn’t anything good.

You crept closer to the scene, but stayed amongst the crowd. Joel marched Scott backwards with a fist tangled in his collar, shoving him out the door.

“And you? Don’t you ever fuckin’ talk to her again.”

Your mouth went dry at his words and your mind reeled at the implications. Was he doing this from a place of friendship? Or…could he maybe feel the same way you do?

Only one way to find out.

You call up Travis, a good friend from undergrad who still lived in town.

“Trav, I need your help,” you say when he answers the phone.

“Burying a body type of help or financial type of help?” He replies easily.

“Actually, more experimental.”

“I don’t swing that way.”

“No, listen to me, I have a hypothesis,” you insist, explaining the situation to him. How you’ve been on two dates at Joel’s bar but each time, the men have left without another word. And how after what you witnessed, you’re inclined to believe that it’s not a coincidence.

You ask Travis to come with you to the next trivia night. All he needs to do is pretend to be there on a date with you. A bit of hand holding, maybe an arm around the waist. Nothing more.

“But what if he tries to threaten my life?” Travis asks.

“Well…I mean…every experiment has risks,” you reply flippantly. He sputters indignantly down the line. “I’ll buy you your drinks and get you tater tots.”

He’s silent for a moment before responding, “Fine. Extra jalapeños and I’m not getting well liquor.”

“Thank you!”

________

You come into his bar with another man. His arm is draped over your shoulders as you approach the bar and Joel has to set the glass he’s drying down before it shatters in his hands.

“Joel! This is Travis,” you say, gesturing to your date. He forces a smile, reaching a hand across the bar to shake his hand.

“What can I get started for you?” Joel asks. The man, Travis, orders an old-fashioned with top shelf whiskey, while you request your regular.

“I’ll be right back,” you say as Joel is pouring the drinks. You weave through the crowd towards the bathrooms and Joel leans in to address Travis.

“I’ll pay you $100 to leave this date,” Joel says.

Travis smirks. “Make it $200.”

“Are you serious?”

“That depends, are you?”

Joel’s eyes flick towards the back of the bar and he reaches into his pocket for his wallet. He pulls out four fifties, dropping them on the bar.

Travis pockets the money before adding, “You know, there’s cheaper ways to get the girl.”

“Get out,” Joel grunts. The younger man laughs his way to the door, and you appear at the bar a moment later.

“Where’d Travis go?” You ask.

“Oh, he—“

“Can I get an order of the loaded tots?” Travis asks, cutting Joel off from making up an excuse for his absence and sitting back down on the stool beside you with a shit eating grin. “She owes me.”

“Owes you?” Joel asks through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, she lost a bet. I told her I could get the number of that guy over there in less than three minutes and she doubted my charm.”

“Travis and I went to undergrad together,” you explain. “We just wanted to hang out and catch up.”

Shit.

________

Travis decides to leave after two plates of loaded tots and one too many drinks. You help him call an Uber, but you stay behind as the bar starts to clear out.

It’s just Joel behind the bar, wiping down the wood and setting bottles back to their rightful spots as you sip from a cup of water. The kitchen has closed down and the music has been shut off, leaving the two of you in loaded silence.

“So…,” you say, twirling your straw in your near empty cup. “You wanna tell me what that was all about?”

Joel’s shoulders go tense before he releases a deep sigh, turning to face you. The bar separates you, and it feels like miles of distance when all you want to do is get your hands on him now that your hypothesis has been proven.

Joel Miller likes you. And he’s been sabotaging your dates because of it. Perhaps you should be more upset, but all you can feel is an effervescent giddiness bubbling in your veins.

While he struggles to find the words, you decide to take matters into your own hands. You reach across the bar, hooking your fingers into the collar of his t-shirt and tugging him forward. You lean over to meet him halfway, pressing your lips to his.

You pull back and look into his eyes. The coffee colored brown of his irises seems darker, his eyes half lidded as he looks at you.

“You wanna get out of here?” He asks.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

________

Joel’s got one hand on the wheel of the truck and the other resting on your thigh. He has to keep a hand on you because he’s worried that if he doesn’t anchor himself, he’ll wake up from this dream.

You kissed him. You reached across the bar and dragged his lips to yours in a way he’d only dreamed of doing a thousand times since you’d sauntered into his life.

He can’t help the small smile that tilts his lips up at the thought.

“What’s got you smiling over there?” You ask, your voice teasing. He glances at you.

“You do, darlin’,” he says. He relishes in the pink that blooms across your cheeks at the pet name.

Joel drives to his house, parking the truck in the driveway of his little bungalow. His bachelor pad, as Tommy calls it.

Maybe not for much longer.

He circles the truck to open the door for you, helping you down from the cab. He keeps his hand on your low back as he leads you up the porch steps and through the door.

You toe off your shoes in the entryway, letting them join the pair of sneakers Joel left by the door. You’re wearing a pair of socks with tiny cats printed on them, the sight so endearing to him he can’t hold back his laugh.

“What?” You ask.

“Nothin’, just…like the look of you here. In my house,” he says.

“Yeah?” You take a step closer to him, toe to toe as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Yeah,” he whispers, wrapping an arm around your waist, tugging your body against his. The heat of you even through the layers of your clothes sends a shiver down his spine.

You press your hands to his chest, sliding them up and over his shoulders before linking them behind his neck.

“You gonna give me a real kiss?” You whisper back. Your lips are so tantalizingly close that they ghost across his as you speak.

He closes the distance, lips dancing with yours as he kisses you senseless. The feel of you against him, moving with him, sends sparks skittering across his skin. He’s unable to hold still, hands roaming from your back to your waist to your hips as your mouths part and your tongues tangle with increased desperation.

Joel slides his hands to the backs of your thighs, crouching slightly to lift you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. Your core slides against his growing hardness and he groans at the sensation as you let out the neediest whimper.

He wants to hear more.

He walks you both through the empty house until he reaches his bedroom, tossing you on top of sheets still rumpled from last night’s sleep. You scramble to sit up on your knees, moving to the edge of the bed and curling your fingers into the waist of his jeans.

“Can I suck your cock, Joel?” You ask, voice all breathy as you stare up at him with your big doe eyes. “Please?”

Joel’s mouth has gone bone dry. “Yeah? You want my cock in that pretty mouth of yours, sweetheart?”

You nod your head, fingers working on the buckle of his belt. His hands work in tandem with yours to get his fly open, shoving the denim down his thighs until he can step out of them. His cock tents his boxers, a wet spot already apparent on the fabric and he watches as you reach a hand out to stroke him, a groan escaping him at the feel of your warm palm against him.

“Take your clothes off and get on your knees,” Joel commands. He lifts his own shirt over his head as you unbutton and remove your pants, shimmying the tight fabric down your legs. He takes a seat on the edge of the bed as he watches you lift your shirt up and off.

His eyes rove your body hungrily. Your perfect tits and gorgeous curves, the way you flush beneath his gaze.

“Come here, baby,” he says, crooking a finger. You come to stand between his legs and he reaches around your back, unhooking your bra with deft fingers.

“You’re rather skilled at that, Mr. Miller,” you tease.

“I’m old, not dead.” He slips the straps from your shoulders, tugging the last barrier between him and your tits away. “God, baby, these all for me?”

“Mhm,” you him as he wraps his hand around the weight of one breast, thumb teasing your pert nipple.

“Tell me somethin’,” Joel asks, “why’d you bring all those boys around when you knew you needed a man?”

You lick your lips. “Didn’t know if the only man I wanted would want me back.”

Your voice is small and vulnerable as you say it, and that just won’t do. “Don’t just want you, baby. Need you.”

Your face lights up in the brightest grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby. Need you so fuckin’ bad,” he tells you, digging his fingers into your hips. “S’why I had to play dirty.”

Your smile turns downright salacious. You drop to your knees, running your hands up his thighs. “Show me how much you need me, Joel.”

________

Joel shoves his boxers down, exposing his cock to your hungry gaze. It’s gorgeously thick, the head a dark red from his arousal, a pearl of precum sitting in the slit. You lean forward and dart your tongue out to gather it.

“Don’t tease, sweetheart,” Joel says through gritted teeth. You keep your eyes fixed to his as you take him in hand, swirling your tongue over the sensitive head before taking him further into your mouth.

His hand is instantly in your hair. Not pressing, but his fingers tangle in the strands and tug deliciously against your scalp. He moans as you take him as far back into your throat as you can manage.

“Fuck, your mouth is better than I ever dreamed,” he says, voice rough.

“You’ve thought about this?” You ask when you draw back for breath, hand pumping his length in place of your mouth.

“‘Course, baby. These pretty lips wrapped around me, beggin’ for me to make them all swollen and used,” he says, standing and bringing a thumb to your lips and swiping it across their spit slick surface. “Open up.”

He uses his thumb to press against your bottom lip, opening your mouth as he takes his cock in hand and feeds it slowly between your lips. The smooth, hot length of him dragging across your tongue makes you moan.

“You like that, baby?” He growls, pumping his hips in shallow thrusts. “Like me usin’ your mouth how I want?”

You try to nod, your movement restricted by the grip of his hand that’s returned to your hair. There’s spit trailing down your chin and tears gathering in the corners of your eyes from the effort of keeping your mouth open for his thick length. You know you must look like a mess but with Joel staring down at you with his lust drunk expression, you feel on top of the world.

“I gotta fuck you, baby, will you let me, huh? Let me feel that pretty little cunt strangle my cock?”

You hum around his length and he withdraws, tugging you up by your hair and pulling you into the dirtiest kiss, all tongue and teeth and blatant desire as he turns your bodies, shoving you down onto the bed.

Joel slips an arm beneath your low back, using it to pull you up the bed as he crawls on to join you. He positions himself between your legs, tearing the soaked fabric of your panties down in a frenzy.

He slides his fingers through your wetness before bringing them to his lips, sucking them into his mouth with a groan.

“Christ, I’m gonna feast on you for hours, baby, but I wanna fuck you so bad,” he says.

“Then fuck me, Joel, please,” you beg, lifting your hips so that his cock slips through your center. “Come on, wanna feel you.”

He lines himself up, pressing into you with a delicious stretch, the slight sting of it making you whine. He shushes you, not stopping until his hips press against the back of your thighs.

“Good fuckin’ girl, takin’ my cock like you were made for it,” he says, leaning forward to kiss you, the shift in angle making him go impossibly deeper. “Tell me when I can move, sweetheart.”

You shift your hips restlessly beneath him. “Please move, Joel, wanna feel it.”

Joel pulls back before slamming forward, the force of it making you slide up the bed as all the air leaves your lungs in a whoosh. His grin is sharp as he does it again and again to the tune of your desperate cries.

“Joel!” You cry, clawing at his back with each thrust. “Fuck, yes, yes!”

He withdraws abruptly, the loss of him as you clench around nothing making you whine pathetically. With a bruising grip on your hips, he twists your body until you’re on your belly, ass in the air and chest pressed to the mattress.

Joel slides back inside your tight heat, a palm slapping across one cheek then the other as he resumes his powerful thrusts.

“Fuck, darlin’, you’re so goddamn tight,” he growls. A hand presses to the back of your neck for leverage, changing the angle yet again. “Can you cum for me? Can you soak my fuckin’ cock, baby, I bet you can.”

You nod, the movement restricted, but you can’t form words. All you know is the feeling of Joel pounding into your body like he owns it.

The hand on your hips moves to the front of your body, fingers finding and pinching your clit. You sob against the mattress, the sheets wet beneath you from tears and drool.

“Come on, baby, fuckin’ cum for me,” he growls. “Won’t fill ya up until you do.”

That’s the visual that does it. The thought of Joel finishing with you, inside of you, dripping out of you too much for your lust addled brain. With a shout, the thin remnant of your control snaps and you pulse around him.

“Fuck yes, that’s it, sweetheart, good fuckin’ girl,” he praises, his hand leaving your neck as he sits up, his tempo fast and sloppy as he chases his release through yours. “You want me to cum in this tight little cunt, honey.”

“Yes, please,” you manage to slur, muffled by the sheets. With three more harsh thrusts, he does as promised, spilling inside of you with a shout.

He slows before withdrawing, your body collapsing against the mattress without him there to hold you up. He chuckles as he flops beside you, dragging you into the cradle of his body.

“You done playin’ games with those boys?” He asks, smiling smugly against your neck.

“Yeah, think I might be into older guys,” you tease. He pinches your hip, making you laugh.

“See if I ever help you during trivia again.”

________

Joel’s standing in front of you, arms crossed with a scowl on his face as you stare up at him with pleading eyes.

“Come on, baby, help me out,” you ask sweetly, batting your eyelashes.

“Last call for an answer to our final question! What is the only song credited to all five original members of the band Fleetwood Mac?”

Joel sighs, biting back his smile. “The Chain,” he tells you. You scribble the answer, running your paper up to the emcee. When you return to the bar, you lean across the polished surface and tug him towards you, planting a kiss to his lips.

He drags you back for another kiss. And another.

“Anytime, darlin’.”

Joel Miller tag list: @huffle-punk punk @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727 @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfell @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @mydailyhyperfixations @liati2000 @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname @morgaussy @letsgroovetonighttt @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @brilliantopposite187 @mattmurdock1021 @str84pedro @justsomeoneovertherainbow

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#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #no use of y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel tlou #joel x female reader #joel miller fluff #joel the last of us #ao3 author #read on ao3

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storiesofsvu · 11 months

Text

Love Comes Quietly Ch 5

Future Alex Blake x reader Warnings: language, sass, teasing, mentions of sexual themes, alcohol consumption, intoxication, hangovers. Chaotic bestie Emily really coming through here.

Golf.

It was fucking golf.

Indoor mini golf to be exact. Swingers was an all indoor, adult aimed mini golf business that combined the usual putt putt with some of the best street food of D.C and handcrafted cocktails.

And yes. Emily had very purposely left out those details just to toy with you.

It started with a couple of rounds of cocktails, loaded tater tot nachos, fried pickles and you split the pesto burrata pizza and the pepperoni and spicy honey pizza. The vibe in the place was one of a social bar, one where everyone was having a good time, but it wasn’t anything too insane, and you were happy to notice that it was child free. You assumed that was because of the later hour, though you weren’t totally sure. You caught each other up on the weekly gossip while you ate, the best way to wind down after a long week of chasing serial killers. Emily was incredibly thankful to have you around, to have someone she knew she could trust to vent to and that you weren’t one to hold her the standard of being the boss when you were off on your own. You were thankful that she’d taken you under her wing, so to speak, and even more thankful for the friendship that came out of it. It helped you ease into the team even better; she’d been around with them long enough she knew practically everything and was ready and willing to fill in any blanks when you had questions.

She managed to convince you into trying two of their signature shooters before you refilled your cocktails and finally collected your golf equipment and started to make your way through the green.

“Okay, but we’re making this more fun.” She declared as you wandered up to the first hole.

“What’ve you got in mind?” You laughed.

“Whoever gets the ball in with the least putts wins.”

“Yeah that’s generally how golf works Em.” You laughed back and she shot you a glare.

“Whoever loses on each hole,” she gestured to her beer, “drinks.”

“Now that, I can get behind.”

“And if it turns out that that’s boring, you take one sip of your drink per putt that you have to take.”

“Christ Em.” You chuckled, “that could be deadly.”

“You better not suck at mini golf then.” She shrugged and you laughed, snagging her drink from her so she could line up her first shot.

As it turned out, you definitely didn’t suck at mini golf, and at the start, neither did Emily. Which meant it was getting boring. Which meant you were implementing the one sip per putt rule by the time you’d made it to hole number three. By hole number seven, you were both certainly feeling the liquor, which meant you were playing even less well, barely focussing on the golf and more on the gossip.

“Hey, how’s living with Blake going?” Emily asked right as she hit her ball into the side of the ramp, letting out a quiet curse before picking up her drink.

“It’s good.” You replied, watching her wander down the green, “feels kinda weird to call her my roommate, but she’s the best person I’ve lived with.”

“She’s good people.” She replied, lining up her next shot, “and she’s respectful.” Taking the shot she let out a breath of relief when the ball actually ended up in the hole this time, “have you taken advantage of the pool yet?”

“No.” You laughed, moving to take your first shot, “hot tub’s come in very handy after a longer case though.” Swinging the club, it hit the ball and you watched it roll through the green and directly into the hole.

“Oh come on!” Emily swore, shooting you a glare, “new rule, if you get a hole in one, you have to finish your drink.” You glanced between her and your quarter full drink, letting out a sigh.

“Fine. But if I don’t show up for work Monday it’s because you gave me alcohol poisoning.”

“Absolutely not. Too much paperwork.”

You practically snorted at her response, chugging back the last of your drink before you scooped up the golf ball, the two of you stopping to get refills before moving onto the next hole.

“You need to convince Alex into hosting the next get together.” She started, carefully lining up her shot, “Rossi’s place is great and all but it lacks the whole pool and hot tub combo, that would just be far superior.” With a swoop of her club, this time she managed to land a hole in one.

“Better chug up Prentiss.” You handed her back her drink and she scowled at you, grimacing at the full drink and new rule she’d made up herself. She took a step back, starting to drink it as you lined up your shot, “I’ll do my best, I mean it’d kinda be like we’re both hosting, would take some of the responsibility off her.”

“Just tell her you want to host.” She suggested between chugs, wincing as she finally finished the drink.

“If you want to see me in a bikini that bad you could just ask.” You teased, prodding at her ribs with your golf club and she swatted you away.

“Murphy please!” She did her best to burp quietly, the carbonation fighting against her, “while I can completely agree that you’re attractive, you’re not my type, you’re like my sister.”

“That’s exactly what I said about you!” You exclaimed with a laugh, taking your second putt of the round, “you know… I think Alex might have a crush on you.”

“Okay now you’re really getting delusional.” Emily barked out a laugh, “are you sure you’re not the drunk one?”

“Which one of us just chugged a full cocktail?” You asked, landing your next shot, taking three small sips of your drink.

“I hate you.” She grumbled, ordering another drink as the two of you moved onto the next hole. “Blake does not have a crush on me, what got that into your head?”

“She started grilling me about how much time we spend together.” You explained, watching her start her next turn, “seemed pretty convinced that we were either dating or sleeping together.”

“Yeah.” She laughed again, “I’m sure the section chief would be completely okay with that.” Her first hit got the ball almost into the hole, “and what’d’you mean I’m not your type?”

“I could ask you the same thing!” You countered, “I told her that while I can obviously see that you’re hot, it’s not for me. Just because we’re both queer doesn’t mean we’re gonna jump into bed together.”

“Not to mention I’m your boss.” She sunk the ball with her second shot, taking two sips of her fresh drink.

“Yeah sometimes I really wonder about how that happened.” You teased and she shot you a glare.

“Fuck you.” She surveyed you for a minute, watching you line up for the shot, though this time she noticed you holding back just the slightest, not wanting to make the hole in one to have to chug your drink. “You know… I think I get it.”

“What?” You glanced up at her as you crossed through the green to take your second shot and she smirked.

“I’m not your type because you want a mommy.” Her smirk grew when you faltered your shot, the ball shooting all the way back to her feet, “which means that Alex, is exactly your type.”

“Okay now you’re delusional.” You laughed, “she’s my friend, co-worker, that’s it.”

“And they were roommates.” She taunted, causing you to nearly miss the next shot, though you let out a breath when the ball circled around the hole and finally dropped in. You grabbed your drink from her, taking the required three sips. “Are you telling me you don’t think she’s hot?”

“She’s in the same category as you.” You started, “she’s hot, I can appreciate that. I can also appreciate that Morgan’s attractive, considering I don’t swing that way… that definitely means I don’t want to fuck him!”

“Oh don’t ever let him find that out.” She warned with a laugh, “or it will be a daily reminder until you either slap or kiss him.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” You laughed in return.

“Well, Blake or not, you’re gonna have to find some opportunity to get laid sometime soon. Helps with the stress of the job.”

“Those toy recommendations are doing perfectly fine, thank you.”

“Yeah but that squirting strap would work far better if it was Alex using it on you.” Emily taunted and while you did periodically choke on your drink you managed to collect yourself, stepping up to her.

“Bet it’d look pretty good on you too daddy.”

“Ohoho please, you know it does.” Emily laughed though you noticed the way her cheeks turned a slight shade of pink, her voice lowering briefly “and you wouldn’t even be able to handle it.”

“Which is exactly why you’re not my type.” You laughed, “now pick up the ball, it’s your putt.”

Smirking, thinking that she finally had the upper hand, Emily glanced down the green and lined up her next shot. She couldn’t help but let out a frustrated swear when she immediately sunk the ball into the hole. She pouted in your direction but you simply shrugged, insisting that it was her rule and she scowled, stepping off to the side so she could chug the rest of her drink.

In an attempt to counter her actions on the next hole she took her sweet time, trying to not get it in right away. The only problem being that that meant she was taking twice as many shots, and as it turned out, she wasn’t very good at mini golf as the liquor began to hit. Each hole required her to take more and more drinks since she was using more and more strokes to get the ball where she wanted.

Emily didn’t remember very much at all past the thirteenth hole.

Alex woke up to a quiet house in the morning and since you’d graciously kept it quiet at whatever hour you’d gotten home, she wasn’t about to be petty and bang around the house. She wasn’t sure when you got back, she’d woken up briefly to a couple of bumps in the night, the beeping of the alarm code when you got in. Though part of her knew it was the instinct to want to make sure you were somewhere safe before her subconscious would fully let her fall asleep.

She filled the coffee pot to brew, making sure there would be more than enough for you considering your late night shenanigans and then began to poke around the kitchen for breakfast. You’d taken on most of the cooking the past couple of days and she wasn’t sure what all was left, but she found half a loaf of bread, some perfectly ripened avocados and four eggs left in the carton. The only thing she was missing was tomato, a rather soggy quarter of one left in a Ziploc bag that she tossed in the trash immediately.

Though that was no problem, she’d noticed some ripe ones in the garden a couple of days ago, so she padded across to the patio door and slid it open, slipping into the backyard. Figuring she was already out there she took a the time to water the plants, tended to a few of them, and ended up picking a handful of cherry tomatoes, a couple of small zucchinis and a few carrots. The sun was warm in the sky already and she was thankful it was Sunday and she could actually enjoy the warm weather, likely spend her afternoon out in the yard with a book.

When she wandered back inside she only pulled the screen door shut behind her, letting the warmth and fresh air waft into the house. She washed the vegetables she’d picked, splitting them up appropriately between the counter and fridge. The coffee machine quietly beeped and she paused in her task of food, pulling her faved mug from the cupboard and mixing it how she liked it, taking the much deserved first sip that she let out a happy hum at.

Glancing in the direction of your room she could have sworn she heard noises earlier, but you were showing no signs of being ready for the day yet, so she figured you’d get your own food later. She sliced up the avocado and tomatoes, leaving them on the cutting board while she grabbed a pan to preheat and opened the fridge.

“Is that coffee ready?” Your voice suddenly broke through her silent morning and she nearly jumped, glancing over her shoulder to the hall and her brow furrowed, closing the fridge to find you coming in the back door.

“There you are. I was a little worried, I thought I’d heard you throwing up earlier.”

“Oh.” You winced, “is she still puking?” Right on cue a toilet flush echoed down the hallway.

“What?”

“Emily likes to make up drinking games.” You explained with a small laugh, crossing through the kitchen to fix yourself a coffee.

“Turns out I suck at mini golf.” Emily groaned, finally making her way into the kitchen, “or…. I’m really good at it?” She glanced to you hopefully and you barked out a laugh.

“You got a couple fluke hole in ones. You were terrible.”

“Why is it so bright in here?” She grumbled, grabbing the sunglasses off your head before looking you up and down and realizing how you were dressed. “Did you go on a fucking run?!” She punched you in the shoulder before dropping herself into a stool at the kitchen island. “How are you not dying?”

“I didn’t mix my booze.” You laughed, “and I ate before I met up with you.”

“We had dinner there!”

“We had snacky food that we shared.” You squeezed at her shoulder.

“Did you want breakfast?” Alex asked, a smirk on her lips as she glanced between the two of you.

“Yes please.”

“No!” Emily groaned, burying her face in her arms before looking up with a grimace, reaching out toward you, “I’ll take that coffee though.”

“Ah!” Alex swatted in your direction before pulling a bottle of water from the fridge, sliding it across the island to the other woman, “no caffeine yet. You need to hydrate before you dehydrate all over again. Coffee’s just going to make you feel worse and it’ll fuck up your cortisol levels and make you even more jittery and that hang-xiety will skyrocket.” Her head tilted when all Emily did was glare at her and attempt to steal your coffee again, “you have to listen to me, I’m a doctor.”

“You have a PHD.” Emily’s eyes narrowed, “you’re not a medical doctor.”

“No.” Alex nudged the water closer to her again, “but I was married to one for nearly twenty years.” She turned her back, opening the freezer and digging through it until she found what she was looking for, presenting it to Emily. “Here.”

“I’m really not in the mood for a freezie right now Alex.”

“It’s made of Pedialyte. They taste better and work just as well.”

“You really are a mommy.” She mumbled, the familiar gleam returning to her eyes when she glanced toward you and you choked on your coffee, a stark laugh coming from Alex. “If I finish this do I get coffee?”

“You finish that and some water without puking and I’ll take you to McDonald’s on the way back to your place.”

“Promise?” She pouted in your direction and you laughed again.

“Yeah, just let me change and eat first. Maybe you should eat some crackers.”

“I’m never going out with you again.” She threatened, pulling another laugh from Alex as she turned back to the stove.

“It was all your idea Emily!” You called as you disappeared around the corner of the hallway and Emily scowled in realization that you’d taken your coffee with you.

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