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Well-worn sneakers squeaking against the floor, a certain bartender wipes clean the bar counter of a crowded sports pub. On the opposite side of the counter, a tired detective inspector with mussy grey hair glares at her. (Y/N) rolls her eyes apathetically, and dusts off her blue and grey jersey.
“You’re goin’ down, Greg,” she hums absentmindedly and fixes up a drink for a customer. Lestrade huffs with a tug of his red and black jersey,“Well, you’re going lower.” Then, as if the air got any more foul, she frowns and says slowly.
“That was actually a really bad comeback.”
Pinching the bridge of his nose he admits,“I know.”
Let’s summarized what has happened from a few minutes ago to now. Gregory Lestrade of the Scotland Yard, an avid Cardinals fan, waltzes into a sports bar, anticipating tonight’s basketball game only to find (Y/N) (L/N), an avid Knights fan, as tonight’s bartender. He thinks she’s pretty cute and give-his-number-worthy until… he sees her jersey. (Y/N) could say the same. Now that that’s set straight, the story resumes.
(Y/N) tilts her head back, laughing at his words. Then. The whole bar watches the huge screen in silence. The game begins.
The customers in red and black jerseys and sportswear jump to their feet in unison when the ball lands in the Cardinals’ possession. Their anxious mutters build in volume.
The commentator shouts into the mic,“Benny, #40, crosses over and passes to Turing. Turing to Khan. Khan goes for the three..! Boom! He makes it in making the score 3 to 0 with Cardinals in the lead!”
Greg slams his drink down and exclaims in (Y/N)’s grimacing face,“Ha! How ‘bout that!” With the other fans shouting with triumph, Greg sits down smugly and crosses his arms.
Then, totally unfazed and without breaking eye contact, (Y/N) reaches up to turn up the volume, donning a smug grin of her own.
Another commentator, a female, narrates with clear excitement,“With the inbound pass, Knights run the floor like no one’s business. There’s an overhead pass to Lee #42. Lee makes the three! Ha! Tying the score, Lee dashes back down to defense.”
(Y/N) sighs with a content smile tugging at her lips. Greg, now astounded, opens his mouth to speak, but she holds up a finger.
The same commentator erupts loudly,“Cardinals get back on offense, but, oh! There’s a swipe from Knights’ Kelly! A pass to Freeman..! Then to MacKelpie! And a beautiful lay-up from Baggins! HEYYO!!!”
Greg’s face softens to one of horror and (Y/N) cheers a small, “Let’s go!” She sticks her tongue out like an arrogant child.
At the gesture, Greg sputters,“Excuse me..!”
“You’re very much excused!” she nods, leaning on her crossed arms. Greg mumbles forlornly into his drink,“Oh, shut up.”
Stretching, the bartender hums,“But we both know that’s not gonna happen.” Blowing a stray (H/C) lock from her face, she continues working.
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Last quarter ending quicker than anticipated, (Y/N) cruises around the bar cheerily, collecting money she won from the bets. Making sure to rub it in Greg’s face, she pockets it quickly. Cardinals fans leave groggily and the Knights sing proudly, drinks spewing from their lips.
She hops onto the counter near an upset Greg. The wood creaks as (Y/N) reaches up to lower the volume of the telly. The press conference becomes background noise. She jumps down carefully and sets to washing countless glasses, humming a choppy tune.
Greg chuckles, defeated but gratified, and pulls on his coat, ready to leave.
“Good game, then, (Y/N),” he offers with a simper.
“It would seem so, Greg,” she returns without too much thought.
The door lets out a squeaking sound as he exits. (Y/N) looks up just in time to see him turn. An odd newfound feeling of guilt and dissatisfaction bubbles in her stomach when he disappears. Muttering a string of curse words, (Y/N) hops over the counter. She trips almost upon reaching the door.
“Wait..!” (Y/N) calls out louder than anticipated. Greg looks over his shoulder to see her form lingering at the door.
“In a way… I guess I did lose,” she claims, scuffing her shoes in slight embarrassment.
Lestrade walks closer with a collected and sound gait,“Yeah? How so?” Her (S/C) face glows mildly under the lamplight. She rubs the back of her neck meekly,“I.. uhm… didn’t get your number.”
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“You look cute in blue and grey!”
“I’ll make you blue and grey if you keep this up, (Y/N).”
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