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You know the game is done (when somebody wins)

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“Hey babe, I’m going to run to the bathroom. Do you want me to grab you another drink on my way back?”

Riley has to lean close for Abby to hear her over the thud of the music and crowd, but if that gives her justification to brush her lips against the other woman’s cheek and the blonde a reason to lean into her side, neither of them mention it. 

“I think I’m good for the night.” She glances at her watch. “It’s nearly closing time anyways. The line is probably long.”

The doctor nods in acknowledgement and slides out of the booth. Abby can’t help but watch her hips sway as she leaves and shakes her head when Riley glances back for the sole purpose of catching her in the act. If she were closer, she’s positive there would be an evil glint in the brunette’s dark eyes. Chuckling to herself, she checks her phone and begins to respond to John’s many texts. No, I’m not dead. Yes, we’re at the bar. No, we won’t be meeting you for brunch because I have every intention of keeping her in bed until at least lunch. You can read into that however you wish.


The blonde recognizes the voice before she looks up from her phone. She pretends not to hear it, partially hoping the other woman will pass by their table, partially out of hope she’s imagining things.

“Abby? Hey…”

This time she looks up, a pained smile gracing her lips. “Harper...hi.”

“Hey! I can’t believe you’re here! And I’m here! How have you been?” 

The taller woman is holding a drink and from the look on her face and her overly chipper demeanor Abby assumes it’s one of many for the night. That suspicion is further confirmed when Harper unceremoniously slides in next to her in the booth. Abby’s eyes widen slightly as she remembers drunk-Harper is also very-forward-Harper.

“Um. Good? I think. You know, I’m actually here with--”

“Oh is John around? I haven’t seen him in months!” Harper asks excitedly. Why, Abby isn’t sure. It’s not like her ex and her best friend ended things on good terms after the Great Christmas Fiasco of 2020. In the split, there was never any question of where the man’s loyalties were assigned. 

Abby’s smile comes out as the grimace it is as she mentally argues with herself if Riley should appear now or if Harper should make her escape before the other woman returns. “Not exactly.”

“Oh,” Harper frowns. “Are you here on a date?”

Talking about your new girlfriend with your ex shouldn’t feel weird after nearly three years, but the fact they share a common link with said girlfriend makes things feel incredibly awkward. 

“I’m here with my girlfriend,” she replies, hoping Harper takes the hint and leaves. Instead she sees the other woman’s face fall and she doesn’t even want to guess what that could mean. Before she can reply, Riley appears behind Harper and leans against the back of the booth, beer in hand.

“Abs,” she says fondly, before turning her gaze to the writer. “Harper.” 

Abby sends a please be good look her way, but judging by the glint in her eyes, she knows it’s a useless request. Harper misses the interaction completely and Abby only feels slightly bad for her. 

“Riley? What are you doing in Pittsburgh?”

“I moved here about a year ago. Residency ended and Pittsburgh had a lot to offer me.” The doctor replies, poker face fully in place. “What are you up to?”

As she asks, Riley already knows the answer. It’s evident in the way Harper sits just a little too close to the blonde and how Abby is casually leaning in the other direction that something was said or done prior to her arrival that Abby isn’t entirely comfortable with. But she’s also confident Abby can handle herself, would have stopped the situation if she were truly bothered, and relaxes into whatever bit of fun she can have with this incredibly awkward situation. 

Harper takes another sip of her drink and motions towards Abby. “I saw Abby alone and was hoping to shoot my shot, or whatever it is the kids say these days.”

“You were? How did that go for you?” Riley’s perfectly sculpted eyebrow is halfway up her forehead and Abby’s fingers itch to trace it. 

Harper waves her hands about wildly. “She says her girlfriend is somewhere around here. Then you showed up.” 

There’s a long pause as Riley stares at her ex, hoping the pieces of the puzzle will fall into place for her. When it’s clear the alcohol (or general obliviousness, she’s not sure) is preventing Harper from connecting the dots, she sighs.

“Harper,” she says pointedly, “You’re in my seat.” 

“What? Your seat?” Harper looks between the two women, at Abby especially who nods. “ You’re Abby’s girlfriend?”

“Mmhmm, that would be me. For the last two years,” is the doctor’s dry response as she watches Harper process the grand reveal. She’s only mildly annoyed that, after a few minutes, the other woman has not vacated the spot in question. After all, the beer in her hand is getting warm. “ Harper . My seat?”

The taller woman scrambles out of the booth, a look of confusion painted on her face. Riley slides into the vacated spot and her hand finds it’s usual spot near Abby’s knee. The blonde leans into her side and reaches for Riley’s newly procured beer, drinking half of it in one chug. For a split second she feels bad for stealing her girlfriend’s drink, but the moment she tastes the Lager she knows Riley brought it for her and the guilt melts away into nothing. The amusement clear on Riley’s face as she watches her set the glass back on the table confirms it, but Harper quickly ruins the moment. 

“Did talking to me leave you thirsty, Abs?” 

Abby’s mouth falls open. She knows this side of Harper very well; the cockiness that only comes out when she’s had a bit too much to drink. But, while she knows her relationship with Riley is secure, she’s not entirely sure how the doctor is going to react to watching their common ex being bold enough to hit on her right in front of the doctor’s own eyes.

“Harper, you’ve had a lot to drink tonight, haven’t you?” Abby responds, trying to keep the peace and change the topic. Harper though, isn’t having it.

“What do the two of you even know about each other, anyways? What could you even have in common aside from your link to me?”

She feels Riley tense beside her, feels the arm that’s now around shoulder pull her just a little closer, and she sighs, resigning herself to the fact that Riley is more than a little drunk and whatever is about to happen now has the momentum of a runaway train that can’t be stopped. With that thought, she kills off the rest of the beer and settles in for the ride.

“I know her well enough to know she prefers Lagers over IPAs. Or drag shows over stuffy holiday parties. She’ll take a glass of whiskey over shots of anything. She’ll discuss Seurat and Pointillism any day until you distract her with something more fun. She has a scar on her right side from having surgery last summer; it’s still sensitive and she’ll giggle if you linger on it too long.” Riley’s voice is dangerously calm and when she pauses, Abby knows she’s setting up for the final blow. “Oh, and I know that she has a tendency to grab and dig her nails into my shoulders when--”

“Babe!” Abby cuts in, her hand flying to cover the other woman’s mouth. “You’ve made your point.” 

The brunette tangles their fingers together and pulls Abby’s hand from her mouth, staring at Harper pointedly. “Have I though?”

Harper is seething. “Fuck you, Riley. Just fuck you.

“Nah, Abby does an amazing job at that.” Riley shrugs, “But I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that. I imagine it would be hard to forget.”

With that, Harper slams her empty glass down on the table and stalks off, leaving a trail of anger in her wake. Abby shakes her head, “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

“Babe I think that’s about as cordial as Harper and I will ever be to one another.” Riley shrugs, but Abby knows sober-Riley will likely regret it tomorrow. For as sharp as the other woman’s words can be, Abby has never known her to be cruel and that was bordering on the line of what sober-Riley might consider acceptable. Drunk-Riley though, has no such concerns and slides out of the booth before offering her hand to Abby. “More importantly though, let’s go home?”

Abby nods and allows Riley to pull her from the booth and out the door. Waiting for a taxi takes forever and the night air is crisp, but when Riley pulls her protectively into her side Abby knows it’s more for the other woman’s benefit than her own. The tension is radiating off her girlfriend in waves and Abby can’t help but mumble near her ear. “Are we okay?”

The question shocks Riley and she pulls away so she can look at Abby. “What? Of course we are. Should we not be? Are you upset with me for what I said?”

“Just checking. I’m not bothered by it at all but,” Abby replies, leaning back into her side, “after that whole thing, you wanted to leave pretty quickly.” 

Riley bites her lip and slides her hand into one of the blonde’s back pockets. Between the squeeze of her hand and the roughness of her voice, her intention is clear. “The bar is closing soon and I assumed you’d rather me have my way with you in our bed rather than the germy bar bathroom.” 

Her words go straight to Abby’s core and suddenly the tension shifts from uncertainty to something hotter. Abby knows Riley isn’t the possessive type and that the run-in with Harper hasn’t even remotely touched, much less rocked, the foundation of their relationship. But she also knows high-school Harper is the one situation that still rattles the other woman and leaves her feeling a little out of control. Combine that with Riley’s irrational fear that Abby will one day wake up and decide she doesn’t want her anymore? The blonde is certain her girlfriend’s goal for the night has now shifted from getting drunk and hitting up Taco Bell at 3am like a pair of college kids, to spending the next however many hours completely losing herself in Abby. And Abby? Abby has absolutely zero objections to that. 

She also mentally congratulations herself for pre-emptively telling John they won’t make it to Sunday brunch.

As they fall into the backseat of the taxi, she lets her own hand fall to Riley’s thigh. It’s a little higher than what would be considered acceptable in polite company, but her girlfriend’s sharp intake of breath when her pinky presses against the seam of her jeans makes it worth the questioning glance the driver sends their way. Riley says nothing, but covers Abby’s hand with her own and moves it back to the blonde’s own thigh as the taxi pulls up to their building. The doctor hands the driver cash and, without a word, pulls Abby out of the car and to the door. They’re tipsy as they stumble through the lobby and into the elevator, and another couple occupying the same elevator is the only thing keeping Riley from giving into the urge to press Abby against the mirrored wall. 

Somehow they make it into their apartment, but the moment the door shuts behind them Abby finds herself being pressed against the solid wood. Her hands tangle in dark hair as Riley’s mouth works a path from her jaw to her neck and the blonde’s head rolls back against the door with a thud. 

“Ri,” she manages to ground out, pulling gently on the hair tangled around her fingers, “Ri please, can we at least get to the bedroom?”

“Fuck, I want you,” Riley mumbles, but her fingers hook into Abby’s belt loops and she uses them to spin them around, walking Abby backwards to the couch. 

“You can have me as soon as we get the bed,” Abby promises, her own fingers sliding down to undo the brunette’s belt as they move. They trip over a stack of books and, when Abby lands halfway on the coffee table, Riley quickly abandons all plans for the couch and decides the hard but flat surface will work just as well.

Abby, however, has different thoughts on the matter. One hand comes up to press against Riley’s chest when the doctor attempts to lean over her, and the other reaches behind her back to retrieve the remote that’s pressed uncomfortably against her spine. “Ri, love, we are not fucking on the coffee table.”

Riley takes the remote from her hand and tosses it to the floor. “Bed’s too far, I’ll clean it tomorrow.”

“Oh no,” Abby replies quickly, sliding out from underneath the other woman, “Absolutely not. We eat on that table sometimes!”

“We eat at the counter too, but that’s never stopped you,” Riley retorts as she stands, but her displeasure at the interruption is written plainly on her face.

Abby shakes her head and holds her hand out for her girlfriend. “Listen, we both know once we get started we’ll never make it to the bedroom. Your back will thank me tomorrow for this.”  

Reluctantly, and not that she’ll ever admit the blonde might be right, Riley follows her to the bedroom. The moment they’re inside she wraps her arms around Abby’s waist from behind and peppers kisses along the back of her neck. Her hands fall to the bottom of the shorter woman’s shirt and slip under the hem before she slowly slides them back up Abby’s sides. Abby slips her arms through the sleeves and Riley tosses the shirt to the floor, the blonde’s bra following shortly after. She reaches around to cup Abby’s chin in her palm and turns the other woman’s face towards her; their lips inches apart. 

Now am I allowed to have you, or are you going to make me fold our clothes as we go to delay this even longer?”

“Don’t tempt me,” Abby warns as she surges forward to kiss the taller woman. Her hand wraps around the back of Riley’s neck and she feels the button on her jeans being undone by deft fingers. The zipper follows and as the doctor’s fingers slide underneath fabric and find their target, all thoughts of clothes and folding vanish from Abby’s mind. “Fuck Ri, please.”

Riley chuckles darkly against her ear and stills her fingers, “I’ve been trying for the last twenty minutes.” 

“Less talking, more doing,” Abby demands, her own hand falling behind her back to press against Riley.  A whimper escapes the brunette as her hips surge forward to press harder against Abby’s fingers. Before she can get distracted by the blonde’s actions, however, she steps away.

Abby feels the warmth against her back vanish, the press of Riley’s hand following soon after, and groans in frustration. Riley bites back a chuckle as she turns Abby to face her. Abby, who’s patience has thoroughly reached its limit, takes the opportunity to capture the other woman’s lips as she pushes her towards the bed. Somewhere along the way Riley’s shirt is added to the pile of clothes forming on the floor and by the time Abby pushes her down on the bed, both of their jeans are halfway off as well.  

While Riley’s intentions may have been to have her way with the blonde, the first round finds herself on her back chanting Abby’s name like a holy prayer. 

Round two begins when she sits up, intent on flipping them so the blonde is on her back, but Abby straddles her lap instead. From there, it’s really no surprise the smaller woman ends up riding her fingers until a combination of Riley’s name and fuck is the only sensical thing she can say and her arms are wrapped around the doctor. Riley feels the tell-tale tightening around her fingers and lines of fire Abby’s nails leave on her shoulders and down her back. She can’t resist burying her face in the blonde’s neck and sucking gently on her pulse point. 

Later, after Abby’s curled into her side with her head resting on the brunette’s chest, Riley breaks the silence. "Tonight didn’t really bother me. Seeing Harper shocked me, but I’m not threatened by her wanting you. I can’t blame her for wanting you.” 

“I know. I knew in the bar you were just having fun with her. You may have taken it a bit too far, but that’s for you to decide tomorrow. I also know she rattles you...and I knew that’d mean really hot sex once we got home.”

“Oh I see. You were more concerned about the really hot sex you were getting tonight than you were the situation itself,” Riley teases. “Honestly, adult-Harper is much easier to deal with than teenage-Harper. Even when we both want the same girl.”

“You’re only saying that because I’m in your bed.” Abby replies before chuckling, “I can’t believe you told Harper I leave marks on your shoulders.”

Riley isn’t fazed in the slightest. “You were with her for a year Abs, I assumed she already knew from first hand experience.” 

“Absolutely not,” Abby replies quickly, looking down at the blanket and reaching up to brush her hair behind her ear. “Can you imagine leaving marks on Harper? She freaked out on me the one and only time I accidentally left a singular mark.”

“Oh. You know I don’t mind, right?” Riley asks gently as she shifts to pull the blanket over them. 

Abby traces the scratch marks on Riley’s shoulder and presses a kiss to the red lines before the brunette lays back down. “Oh, trust me, I know.”