𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣 𝙨𝙠𝙮𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨

• strangers in a bar •

non-star wars AU

warning: smut
             

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You knew walking into that bar was asking for trouble.

It had been a while, but something about taking that path up to the wooden doors felt familiar. The way your feet would land on the same spots they'd land all those years ago; before you became domesticated and tamed. 

Turns out, domesticated and tamed could get boring. 

Boredom quickly translated into annoyance, until you and your husband finally blew up at one another, screaming about how much you regretted the day you met. Trying to one-up each other in the game of pain. 

And so here you were. You could have promised yourself that you'd only have one drink, but you were done with lying to yourself.

"Steady on there, sweetheart," A deep voice came from two stools down, making you roll your eyes.

"Don't worry, old man, I can handle my liquor," You assured him with a wave of your hand as though to shoo him away. 

"Old man?" He repeated, the smirk evident in his tone. "Come on, now, I've already had a rough night. Don't need to be insulted by you, too."

You finally turned to face him, your eyes immediately drawn to the vast number of empty glasses that sat on the bar before him. Snorting, you shook your head. "I don't think it's me you should be worrying about, old man." He most definitely wasn't old, but it was fun to tease him. Someone as textbook handsome as him would have received compliments his whole life; it wouldn't hurt to humble him. 

"What, this?" He asked, gesturing to the glasses. "This is nothing, sweetheart. Just another failed attempt to get her damn voice out of my head."

Eying him curiously, you decided to bite. "Lose your girl?"

"Worse," He grumbled. "Married her."

You snorted, lifting up a shot of vodka. "I hear that, old man." Bringing the shot back down again, you downed it, ignoring the hot burn as it rushed down your throat.

"You're married, too?" He asked, surprise subtly laced with the calmness of his voice.

"Mhm," You confirmed, absentmindedly twisting the wedding band around your ring finger. "Seven years, now."

"So, what did your man do to drive you down to this dusty old bar?" He questioned you, tapping his finger on the bar lightly. "Must have been something bad for you to withstand the pervs and watered down bourbon."

"Watered down bourbon is safer; I won't get as drunk," You informed him. "And the pervs raise my self-esteem."

His eyebrows raised for a second. "Ah. So your husband neglected you."

You shook your head, "He bored me."

The man's head tilted while he took in your words. "Oh."

"What about your wife?" You asked, putting the spotlight onto him. "What did she do that makes this place better than home?"

He tapped his finger on the side of his glass. "She stopped telling me she loves me."

His words took you by surprise, making you look back down to your drink. "You don't seem the type who needs to be hearing that all the time."

"Not all the time," He agreed, before shrugging. "Once in a while would be nice, though."

You took your half-empty glass of bourbon and stretched it out towards him. "Here's to having shitty spouses."