Chapter Text
You'd been to this bar a few times before, but that was months ago before work consumed most of your life for a while. You'd just flown back in from Chicago and the last thing you wanted to do was navigate through the entire city to get home while it was raining cats and dogs. Besides you could hardly see, especially with the lane sensor in your truck beeping every five minutes indicating that you were out of bounds.
And it wasn’t like you were ready to go home because there wasn't anything or anyone waiting for you there anyway. After the week you've had, you needed a stiff drink before retiring for the night…or a few.
The lighting in the bar was still as dim as you remember and the atmosphere was expensive, the slight smell of cigars hitting your nostrils the moment you were escorted inside. It wasn't too crowded tonight and no one really looked in your direction as you made a beeline for the bar. You took off your coat and set it on the back of the chair just as the bartender came over to you.
“I see the storm is bringing everyone in tonight…what are you starting off with tonight?”
You ordered their most expensive scotch on the shelf and put a few bills down to make sure that they kept coming—you had no real intent of anything other than the fact that you knew that you'd be in this bar for a while. The seat you picked allowed you to see all of the tables and booths but the longer you sat and gazed around as you threw back scotch, the further you retreated into your head. The one place you didn’t want to be.
Your work phone buzzed a few times—you glanced down at the screen with a frown, it was nothing that couldn't be answered in the morning you were sure. You sat there for about another hour, mindlessly scrolling through your phone with the endless refills coming every time your tumbler was low.
Ready to close your tab and get some water you signalled the bartender just when you spotted her . As cliché as it was, you both saw each other from across the bar. Her eyes met yours for what felt like the longest second of your life and then it was over and she was moving on towards an empty booth.
Unable to help yourself, you watched her navigate through the bar—her dark red dress beneath her open coat standing out against the black suits and dresses in the bar. Her platinum blonde hair was pulled into a firm ponytail, like a beacon of power. The booth she selected was a little dark, making it hard to see what she was looking at anymore and giving her an extra layer of mystery.
That made you smile a little. Interesting…
“Hey, you done for the night?”
“Huh?” You looked at the bartender, forgetting that you called her over a minute ago to pay what you owed so that you could go home but that was before you found a reason to stay. “No, I...no, I'm gonna stick around for a little while longer, I think.”
The bartender barely held back her amusement as she poured you another glass, “Good luck.”
“Thanks,” you mumbled into the tumbler, losing the fight to keep your eyes on the TV but you couldn't help it, hell you didn't want to. You couldn't remember the last time you saw a woman that fine.
Whether it was the way she carried herself or just her beauty alone, she had you captivated. Her legs were crossed underneath the table and for a brief moment you imagined feeling them bare and around your waist, holding you tightly while you—
“You're being a creep, y'know? Just go over there and talk to her. Worst that can happen is that you get turned down. Right?”
“I thought you left,” you glared at the woman behind the counter in front of you, ignoring how warm the tips of your ears became because you were fucking staring hard as hell. But that didn’t mean the bartender had to call you out…and so loudly, “Gimme two since you're still here.”
“Please and thank you. You killed that scotch before I could leave and that's top shelf stuff, how are you not put on your ass yet?”
You offered her a wry smile while sliding off of your bar stool, collecting your coat and holding both glasses in each hand, “My mother: she put this stuff in my bottles when I was a baby.”
You left the bar not bothering to stop and catch her reaction, you had other things on your mind now. With every step you took, you could feel the weight of her eyes on you growing heavier until you were standing directly in front of her. You set the fresh glass of scotch gently on the table then carefully pushed it closer until it was well within her reach.
Her blue eyes did not stray from yours as she accepted the free drink and brought it to her lips. You sipped a little more of your own scotch while watching her over the rim of your glass, waiting...and oh did she make you wait. Others around the bar were doing their best not to look like they were watching, but they were and they were hoping you'd fail so they could try their own luck.
She set the tumbler down quietly then nodded. With a small smirk, you set your coat down before sliding into the empty booth across from her. Though you would've preferred not having your back to the door you'd make an exception just this once. Plus there was a small mirror behind her, it wasn't the best view but it would help you keep track of who was coming and going.
You honestly didn't expect her to say anything to you first, you were fully expecting to be the one to break the ice between you both. You had a feeling a woman as refined as this one wasn't so easily swayed with some overpriced glass of brown liquor and cocky swagger. She was amused and bored at best, that's why you were allowed to sit with her now. This was your first impression.
She was drinking you in slowly, still nursing the drink you brought to her. She's had it already of course, one of the few in the bar who could afford it. She's never seen you before but she was quick to figure out that you were by no means some fresh face college graduate that was in over their head.
The suit you wore had to have come from Italy directly as the threads were too fine and perfectly stitched not to be. You oozed confidence but there was also caution, she could tell by the way you were sitting at the bar and how many times you kept looking at the mirror over her shoulder. You were seasoned.
“I'm not interested in lawyers.”
You licked your lips, deciding that you liked her voice. It was soft but there was a dash of iron in there. And it seemed as if she’d been watching you just as much as you’d been watching her—making her own assumptions too. And now she was talking to you as if she had you all figured out. Figuring she’d already won this unnamed game. How wrong she was.
You grinned, signaling the bar for another round, “Good thing I'm not a lawyer then.”
One of the waitresses soon came over with your fresh drinks, though there was only one scotch and the other was a very expensive glass of champagne and you couldn't help but cast a short glance over your shoulder towards the bar. The bartender smirked back at you and you scoffed under your breath, she could've given you a few tips before sending you to the damn wolves. There goes twenty dollars from her tip...
You brought your glass closer and got comfortable, “I take that you must be a regular?”
“But you're not. Passing through?” You didn't miss the quick glance towards your hands when she finally picked up her wine glass—and you wondered if her hands were as soft and delicate as they looked.
“Local,” you shrugged lazily, then you smiled, “You're not gonna be the other woman, by the way...”
The glass paused halfway to her red lips, staring at you hard enough to almost make you backtrack ....almost. “ Excuse me?”
You licked your lips, catching some remnants of whiskey, “You asked if I was a drifter and then looked at my hand for a ring,” you held up your left hand a bit, “No ring.”
“Didn't your mother ever tell you that it's impolite to read a woman's mind without introducing yourself first?”
You didn't know what sort of response you were going to get from being so bold but a joke wasn't on the list but you weren't complaining—it was relieving, honestly, getting a hint that maybe she wasn't the typical Ice Queen...completely. You reached across the table, holding out your hand to her.
“(Y/n).”
“Miranda.” Without breaking eye contact, she slipped her hand into yours firmly and you were right—her hands were as soft as they looked especially against your calloused ones. Her fingers tickled the inside of your palm when she pulled away making you shiver but it wasn’t like your thoughts weren’t already impure.
“So, uh, can I ask why you're not into lawyers?”
“Half the time their mouths aren't good enough for anything other than talking,”
“And the other half?”
“They're still talking.”
Ah, she clearly hates lawyers... “Is that why you're drinking alone in a lawyers bar dressed to the nines?”
“Do you really care?” Her question made you laugh; because no...you didn't care at all why she was here and was sitting in a booth all alone dressed like that. It was starting to become clear that you both knew that there were other motives at play beside the drinks you were sharing. “That's what I thought, and in any case, I was going straight home but of course in this weather my car caught a flat about a block away and I managed to lose my umbrella.”
“And yet you still managed to look flawless...” you downed your scotch and pushed the glass away, you didn't need anymore of that if you were about to drive through the trenches of puddles again but to bed a gorgeous woman like this? You'd risk it. “Do you need help with your tire?”
She smirked, catching the mischievous gleam in your eye after you killed a thirty year old scotch like it was a shot, “My driver is taking care of it.”
“They're taking too long, I can drive you home.”
“Drive me home?” She repeated teasingly, blue eyes twinkling, “And then what? You have your wicked way with me?”
“I'm not a serial killer, if that’s what you’re asking,” You raised your hands when her eyebrow raised as if to challenge that oh so cliché statement, “Okay, that…was bad, but we can sit here all night going back and forth if you really want to...or…”
“Or?”
“ Or... I can close our tab at the bar and then take you home…as promised…what happens next is up to you, but I’d really like to continue this…privately.” Your tone belied the words coming out of your mouth, and you both knew it.
A few hours later...
The harsh roll of thunder woke Miranda from her sleep, startling her really, and she was surprised that the rain was coming down much harder than it was earlier after you both arrived at her home hours ago.
Miranda was a bit startled when her hand brushed across warm flesh that was definitely not her own but the panic was gone just as quick as it came when her eyes landed on your toned and lightly freckled bareback. The same back that was littered with dull red scratches left from her nails. She'd blame that on you as she was holding on to dear life as you took her until you were spent but the pleasant ache that still resided between her thighs had Miranda craving for more.
Thankfully Miranda lived in a high rise so she didn’t have any neighbors to worry about. But if you kept doing what you did tonight, she'd have to pay to fix the plaster of her wall behind her headboard soon enough. Oh yes, she was keeping you.
A strike of lightning lit up her bedroom, nearly blinding her but you didn't even stir. Your little snores carrying on into the darkness of her bedroom. Miranda sat up slowly as she could to avoid disturbing you, but you proved to be an incredibly light sleeper and your eyes fluttered open with the small movement, your eyes scanning tiredly over the room before finally coming back to her.
Miranda recognized the gesture as she's always seen a few of her coworkers scan the room for any danger before allowing themselves to relax, but Miranda had no idea what you did for a living because you certainly didn’t scream ‘cop’ to her. But it wasn't like you two did much talking once that front door slammed shut.
“I didn't mean to wake you,” she said quietly, not wanting to disturb the calm mood by speaking any louder.
You shifted slightly, groaning quietly when something in your back popped, “S'okay...why are you up?” your voice was thick with sleep and you stifled a yawn as you sat up with her, uncaring about your exposed torso. It wasn't as if neither of you hadn't seen the other in all your glory by now…and you just weren’t a shy person.
Miranda rubbed the back of her neck tiredly, wincing when her fingers brushed over a knot, “Not by choice, I assure you,”
“Your neck hurtin'? Shit, was I too rough, wasn’t I? I’m sorry—”
Miranda interrupted you before you could fly into a panic that you were too rough, it wasn’t as if she were stopping you, “Besides the amount of make up I will have to use to cover this up (you smirked at her glare) I'm fine. It was the thunder that woke me up, unfortunately.”
You gave her a look, still doubtful, “Sure?”
“Positive, darling.”
You nodded, pushing the covers from your naked body slowly and sliding out of the warm sheets that felt like a caress against your skin. Miranda watched you move around her room in the dark with only the moonlight to guide you as you redressed in your clothing that had been tossed every which way. Miranda was amused to find you struggling to look for your shirt.
As you stood bare in the natural light from the moon despite the rain, she could see all of your scars and marks and not for the first time since you approached her, she wondered what you did for a living. But she never asked because she didn’t want the question redirected back to her.
Once you finished and put your hair into a messy bun on top of your head you went over and sat on the edge of the bed next to her. So close she could feel your body heat and faintly smell the strong perfume lingering on your clothes.
She reached up to fix your messy hair but stopped short but instead she curled her hand on the base of your neck, fingers playing with your baby hairs. You smiled softly, leaning forward to kiss her cheek, before whispering in her ear, “Need anything before I go?”
Miranda shook her head making her blonde locks fall over her shoulders again, “Do you always check up on your one night stands before you leave?”
“I don't usually fall asleep.” you said instead, hoping that answered whatever question she was really wanting to ask you—only because the question was burning in your mind too, “I haven't been worn out in a long time.”
Miranda couldn't help but smirk, “Perhaps next time, we'll have enough time to establish a safe word, hm?”
“Next time? You're interested in next time? Even...even with all this going on?” you gestured towards your crotch area, drawing Miranda's gaze for a second, “Most women are good for one time to try...but—”
Miranda put you out of your misery before your rambling could go on and soothed down your baby hairs at the base of your neck while squeezing, “I was surprised, but horny enough to say yes...and I'm satisfied enough to let it continue if we're both interested.” Miranda laid it out there first when she realized that you probably weren't going to do it. There was a lot to unpack with your rambling, but she was much too tired and it was late.
Miranda watched you pull out your phone from your coat pocket and she gave her number to you. Her phone pinged from her purse somewhere outside of her bedroom from the text you just sent her.
“Flip the bottom lock before you leave, please.”
You nodded though you didn't want to go home, it was late and wet outside and your own sheets weren't nearly so comfortable and warm like hers. But you didn't want to push your luck and offered her a departing smile.
You went to stand so you could leave but her hand tightened behind your neck, stopping you—you'd forgotten that she was still holding on to you. Your eyes flew to hers in question but her lips were already on yours but she was gone before you could react. Her hand was now around your throat, her thumb pressing into your pulse point and you exhaled heavily, leaning in for another kiss but the hand on your throat stopped you again. Mmm.
“Goodnight, (Y/n).”
You grinned, pulling back again to find her smirking at you again, “Goodnight, Miranda.”
She watched you leave, your long strides taking you out of her room with the door closing behind you.
And not soon after, her front door too. You were gone so quickly, she could still feel your warmth on her sheets next to her. Now alone, she didn't stop herself from reaching over to feel them, her eyes falling closed for a moment.
After her divorce with her husband, romance hasn't been very kind to Miranda. Finding partners that weren't intimidated by her work (or herself) wasn’t so easy even in New York. Ethan might have been right in the end, his very last words hitting her like a train. She was too difficult in and out of the bedroom. But here you came, bravely propositioning her…and succeeding.
There had been other arguments with him and her but that one always stuck to Miranda the most. It’s the same argument she always fell back on when she found herself alone in the middle of the night. Miranda felt herself starting to overthink everything again and that wasn't going to let her sleep for the rest of the night.
With a heavy sigh, Miranda pushed aside her covers and climbed out of bed, pulling on her favorite dark blue silk robe that stopped mid thigh. She may as well shower to get the smell of sex off her and maybe get ahead on a few cases while she is up.