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he hunches over the top of a peanut shell-laden bar, nursing his second beer of the night when he sees it. his sharp, bright blue eyes shift to the source of the noise to gauge it for danger ~ he doesn’t like what he sees.
he sees a young woman ~ much younger than him ~ looking particularly irritated by the older man (though in-between carl and the woman) that has her backed into where the edge of the bar and the wall meet, but he can see through the way she’s cowing away from him that she’s scared too.
it doesn’t take him longer than a few seconds to get to his feet and make his way over to the pair, eyes studying the situation as he moves.
as for the young woman: petite. defined waves of brown hair. he’s struck by the thought of coffee in the warm undertones peeking through. curvy figure. hazel eyes with long, dark eyelashes ~ eyes that have a particular spark of defiance that he finds intriguing. freckles spattered across her shoulders and arms, left bare no doubt by the oversized cardigan dangling from the man’s fingers as he snatches it from her grasp over and over. he briefly wonders if she took it from her grandfather with how hideous it is.
as far as the creepy guy: he’s clearly had too much to drink. tall ~ way too tall to be weaponizing his height and broad chest the way he is. smells like body odor, like he’s never discovered deodorant, and greasy hair slicked back over his scalp. never breaking eye contact at the girl.
it clicks in the mind of the blue-eyed man who this guy is, because he’s seen him before. he’s also evidently about to get his ass kicked by a former nypd detective with what he does next.
“come on, friend, give that back. please? i’m tired and i wanna go home and frankly, i don’t wanna deal with you anymore because you’re acting like a perv. you’ve been staring down my shirt since you’ve stolen that while i was in the toilet.”
“friend, huh?” he says with a leer that makes the detective’s stomach turn. “why would you call me a friend if you’re gonna act like that? wanna go in the toilet and make it up to me?”
“oh, for fuck’s sake…” the woman reaches forward in an attempt to get her cardigan, only to cry out when the drunkard grabs her by the wrist. “let go, you’re hurting me!”
“let her go. now.”
they both turn to look at carl hickman, looking disheveled and very tired as he studies the situation. he has his bad hand shoved deep in his pocket, giving the impression he intended to judging by the way the creep’s eyes bug out of his head. he drops both the woman’s wrist and her cardigan and backs away with his hands held in front of him. carl moves, eyes never leaving the drunkard’s, to pick up the cardigan and hand it to the woman he has angled behind him.
taking her hand away from massaging her sore wrist, she plucks it from his fingers and quickly wraps herself in it. carl looks over his shoulder briefly to check on her, a small smile coming to his lips when he sees that she’s covered and looking more comfortable.
“you okay?”
“um,” she thinks for a moment before answering, “i think so, yes. thank you.”
“don’t do that yet. he looks like he’s about to be even more of an asshole.”
as if on cue, the drunk guy rears his ugly face.
“oy! come on, mate, you see her?”
“yes, i do. what about her?” carl says, turning to face him square on. he easily towers over the other man, but able to make out the inscription on his name tag. “mick? what about her? go on, don’t be shy.”
mick guffaws. “god, she’s just teasing us-“
“i don’t know what you mean by us. i don’t see any other pervs in here harassing a pretty woman minding her own business after what i’m sure has been a long day at work, made no better by your stupid, sorry ass.”
the woman coughs out a small laugh, which only angers mick.
“you little bitch!” he hisses before lunging at her, not able to get very far with the punch carl lands to his nose.
carl squats down over where mick lays on the floor, handing him a crumpled handful of napkins for his bloody nose.
“you know that’s no way to speak to a lady, mick…actually, i don’t think you do. you don’t know how to speak to women, so you choose to intimidate and control and berate just to get your scumbag rocks off, especially going after the younger ones. i’m gonna guess there’s been a few girls in here that you’ve spoken to like the way you have tonight, but they don’t seem to have responded very well either, judging by your black eye, crooked nose and teeth, stupid behavior probably caused by several concussions from getting your head bashed in. not only are you a predator, but you’re a predator that gets smacked around by little girls and can’t fight back.”
mick looks like he wants to cry, the horror only growing when carl surges closer and grips him by his lapels.
“i’ll tell you what to do, man to little bitch. you need to get up, apologize to the woman you harassed, and get the hell out of here. then, i think it’d be wise to go to the nearest grocery store, get the biggest thing of lotion you can find, and lock yourself in your bedroom and get to work. because if i see you in here again, you will leave here in a cop car or a body bag, and the only thing you’ll have felt around your comically tiny penis will have been your own hand.”
with that, carl gets up with a grunt as his knees crackle, wiping the dust from his jeans and chuckling at the stunned look on mick’s face.
“do not make me repeat myself, mick.”
the creep, having been sufficiently humbled, clambers to his feet, mumbles out a quick apology to the girl, and practically runs out of the pub.
carl hears footsteps and looks to the side to see the bartender approaching.
“gert, wait a minute, he was just helping-“
the bartender cuts off the woman’s defense of carl by the two whiskey glasses he slams onto the bar, pouring in a generous amount of dark liquid.
“thanks, carl. he’s been a pain in the ass ever since he’s started disgracing the place.”
carl barks out a laugh and nods to gert, a low “don’t mention it” reaching her ears as he sits down and picks out a glass.
“you coming or am i drinking for two?”
a shy smile covers her lips and a blush paints her cheeks as she comes to sit on the stool next to him, taking her own drink.
“that was impressive, carl. how long have you profiled?”
she barely represses a laugh when he snorts, looking at her incredulously.
“yes, it’s pretty clear that you’re some type of a cop, law enforcement. or you’re just very good at reading poor bastards, but that’s rarely the case.”
he grins with amusement, knowing something she doesn’t.
“retired ~ where i did specialize in profiling. i have also seen him get his ass kicked in here by multiple women half his size and given first aid for concussions, broken noses, missing teeth, so that’s where i got that from. the other part ~ about him having a tiny penis ~ was an educated guess.”
he relishes in the sweet sound of her laugh, the action affecting her whole body.
“ah, that was a good one,” she says, a beat passing before she tentatively reaches out a hand to shake his, “judith. henriksson.”
he pulls his gloved hand from his coat pocket, presenting it to her with a smirk.
“i’d shake, but…”
his breath hitches when she lightly presses her fingertips to his wrist without missing a beat.
“good enough. figured a fist-bump may be worse. i’m glad that wasn’t actually a gun in your pocket, would’ve been a bit much for a brutal murder defending my honor for our first date.”
laughing, he picks up his own drink and downs it, signaling the bartender for a refill for him and judith.
as the night goes on, they drink but mostly talk, their easy chatter pushing past the typical small talk of pub meetups just looking for a quick bang.
she asks about his hand, if that’s why he retired, respecting it when he said he didn’t want to get into it. she told him that she’s ’just a cop,’ but not wanting to elaborate, so he did her the same courtesy and moved on. she poked fun at his penchant for stamp collecting and giggled when he leaned in to shush her with his hand over hers. he choked on his beer when she suggested that her yoga skills could prove very beneficial for him if he kept at it. they breezed from hobbies to pets (she yearns for a cat, he had a kill streak of 7 plants before he admitted defeat) to love languages (mostly to mock the idea that love could be qualified…but he tends more towards acts of service and physical touch while she is a fiend for physical touch and words of affirmation). he nearly had a heart attack when she revealed that she was close to twenty years his junior, but that strangely didn’t turn him away ~ they bonded very well, she was intelligent, kind, energetic in a way fun for him to try and keep up with, and so pretty. he was surprised to find out she was from sweden, her not as much to him being from new york (she called him a hardass with a soft and gooey heart, groaning at herself when his brows raise with a smug smile).
he’s not surprised when he looks up to find that a few hours had passed because time really does fly when you’re having fun. he gets up to go, but she stops him before darting away. he shakes his head before she even gets back when he hears the new song blaring from the jukebox.
“absolutely not.”
“i don’t want you to break a hip, old man, just come here!”
he groans goodnaturedly as she drags him closer by the hand (but he’d really rather sink into the floor).
she hooks her arms up around his neck with a big grin, loving the view. she wants to kiss each of his stupid freckles on his face, pluck out his wiry eyebrow hairs as she pins him to the floor amidst halfhearted protests. she finds herself captivated, however, by the prettiest pair of eyes she’s ever seen.
“i’d tell you that my eyes are up here, but it appears that you’ve already found them.”
she snorts to herself. “has anyone ever told you that your eyes are fuckin’ amazing?”
“yes, yes they have. but it’s still very sweet, thank you, judith.”
“good boy,” she mocks him, carl realizing that the alcohol is definitely hitting her a bit harder than they realized. his hands come to her hips when she stumbles.
“woah, baby, you okay? didn’t mean to make you weak at the knees.”
his teasing tone disappears when she suddenly tucks her face into his neck, hair tickling at his skin. her hands slide down to loop around his back, holding onto him firmly but gently, as if he’s made of glass that she’d like to shatter. “this is nice, carl. you smell good.” she’s hit that point of drunkenness that makes her weepy, and she’s getting weepy because she misses someone looking at her the way carl was right now.
he chuckles a bit but mostly to choke back the emotion rising within him. it’s been forever since he’s been touched like this ~ someone holding him so close and comfortably, and the feeling of such contact being so meaningful as opposed to the few one night stands he’s had over the years.
an arm drops to wrap around her waist, a hand comes up to cradle the back of her head.
“judith, you should probably be heading home.”
“mhm.”
“yes, judith. home. by yourself.”
“mhm.”
“i know, you have a hard life. not gonna let our first time be forgotten because you’re drunk off your ass.”
“first time? you wanna hang out again?”
his heart nearly breaks at the starry and surprised look in her eyes as she blearily blinks up at him. who wouldn’t want to do either of those things with her? she’s amazing.
“really? absolutely, you’re amazing.” well shit. “let’s head out to the road and get you a cab, c’mon. i’ve embarrassed myself enough for one night and now i’ve gotta send you away.”
“mhm.”
within fifteen minutes, he’s gotten her bundled up in his own coat (much to her protest that she doesn’t want him to get sick and he just tells her to hush) and bundled into the back of a cab. he’s about to close the door when she jams her little hand out the top.
“jesus, judith! you could’ve hurt yourself-“
“i need your number.”
“what.”
“for our date. we need to plan. you’re not wisking me off to some unknown location in the dead of the night, this isn’t like in your younger days…before christ.”
“oh, for the love of god.”
“oh! here!” she fumbles within his coat that she’s wearing and pulls out a small notepad and pen. he watches as she scrawls out her number for him and shoves it into his hands.
he only realizes what she’s asking him to do when she starts to look embarrassed.
“you don’t have to keep it if you don’t want to, you know. i won’t be offended.”
wait, what? what’s she talking about?
“don’t worry about it, carl, it’s not a big deal. there’s a trash can right over there.” she’s trying to play it off, but she’s clearly hurt and upset.
“oh! judith, wait a minute,” he says with a quiet chuckle, his hand coming down to support himself on the top of the car as he lowers himself down into a squatting position outside the open car door. “i’m not throwing it out. my bad hand is the one i’d write with, so…”
“oh.”
“uh-huh.”
“well,” she muses as she thinks of a solution, her face brightening almost comically when she thinks of it, “why don’t you tell me and i’ll write it down?”
“sounds good.”
she pulls the notepad and pen from his hand and furiously scribbles as he recites his cell number to the young woman, tongue poking out in concentration while her clumsy hands write. she pulls the sheet away victoriously once she has finished and presents it to carl with a quizzical look.
“perfect.”
it’s then that the taxi driver turns around in his seat and chastises them for taking so long, silencing when carl holds up his hand and goes ‘yeah yeah.’
“i guess i will call you soon?”
“yes ma’am,” he says with a grin.
before he can think anything of it, she reaches forward and places a soft kiss on his cheek, dangerously close to the corner of his mouth before pulling away with a smug little smile.
“you’re killing me here.”
“bye, carl,” she teases, holding his gaze as he brings himself to stand and closes the door, only breaking it once the driver has sailed away.
carl watches after the taxi until it pulls around a corner and is no longer visible, unable to contain the slight smirk upon his lips. he’s feeling a mixture of nervousness and anticipation ~ what could really happen with this? will she call, won’t she call? he’s quick to remind himself that there are no guarantees and that she could always choose to not contact him, but there’s the smallest inkling within him of desiring the goodness that was the girl that dragged him out in between high top tables to dance with her.
after another moment (and several disgruntled dutch folks knocking into his shoulders with angry curses), he finally turns around, stuffing the piece of paper with judith’s phone number scrawled across it in his wallet as he heads back to his car to drive home.