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He dropped his backpack to the floor. He lined the shot glasses up on her coffee table and filled them with bourbon. He placed a gold coin next to them. He looked up at her and smiled.
"Here are the rules. First…"
"Wait, wait. There are rules for this now?" Olivia was curled up on the couch, feet tucked under her. She'd shed her work clothes and was in her pajamas. Peter was very much looking forward to stripping said pajamas off of her.
"There are tonight. First…"
"So, we're not just getting drunk and screwing each other until we pass out?" She pulled her hair back and twisted it into a messy knot.
His forehead creased and he frowned at her. "Stop interrupting me. We're playing a game tonight and there are rules."
"Because I don't really have a problem with getting drunk and screwing each other until we pass out."
"I've noticed that." He waited.
She tilted her head to the side. "What's in the backpack?"
He stared at her, took in poorly disguised smirk that was tugging at her lips. He took one of the glasses and drained the contents in a single swallow. "You're impossible. And no fun at all. We take turns flipping the coin. Heads you drink, tails you get something out of the backpack and you get to do what ever you want with it."
She held his eyes for a minute before flicking them over to the bag.
"Peter, have you been walking around Boston all night with a backpack full of sex toys?"
"I left it in the car when we went to interview those witnesses."
She took one of the glasses and tossed it back.
He held the coin out to her. "Because I am a gentleman," he ignored her snort of laughter, "I will let you go first."
She examined the coin closely. "This is rigged, right?"
He managed to look hurt. She shrugged and tossed it in the air, catching it and trapping it on the back of one hand. She held her hands out to him before pulling the top one away.
He nudged the backpack towards her. "No peeking."
She huffed out an impatient breath. "Bossy." She hauled the bag up on the couch and made a show of reaching in and rummaging around. She pulled back and held up a pair of handcuffs.
"No cheating, either. There weren't any handcuffs in there."
"This game has too many rules." She snagged another glass off the table and drank.
He crawled up on the couch with her, pulled the backpack away. "How about I pick something for you since you seem to be having trouble following the incredibly simple rules of the game."
"How about you…"
He leaned over and silenced her with his mouth, sucking the flavor of the bourbon from her tongue. The backpack slid from his fingers and thumped to the floor. She stretched one arm to the side and caught another shot glass between her fingers, careful to not spill it. He stopped her hand before it reached her lips, redirected it to his own. She pouted at the thievery.
"That was mine."
The both glanced at the table, the two shots left there. He stood, pulled her to her feet and picked up the glasses. He handed her one and they clinked them together before tossing them back. She swayed a little on her feet. He turned her by her shoulders and propelled her towards her bed.
"What about your game?"
"Stupid game. Too many rules."