A/N: Series of one-shots exploring how Piper and Alex might have spent their New Year's Eves together if they hadn't broken up. Some fluff, some angst. (Not sure how many there will be. I'll probably just write them until I run out of ideas.)

This one is for context, and to get things started. As always, please let me know what you think!


Predictably, they ended up at the bar.

It had a name, but no one ever used it; to Piper and her friends it was simply the bar, the only one in town that mattered. It was the one they always seemed to stumble into on the night before pay day, when they were dead broke and eating ramen at every meal just so they could still afford pitchers of cheap beer. For a band of underemployed college graduates, the bar was the perfect hole-in-the-wall hideout, the only place in town that felt as charmingly threadbare as they did themselves. It had an old jukebox that played terrible one-hit wonders, a disintegrating pool table with a set of cracked cue sticks, and two-for-one specials almost every weeknight. They would sit in their torn up booth in the corner and think, well, at least we're not as broken as this old dump, and feel oddly cheerful about it.

The bar was their last resort for every occasion, and New Year's Eve was no exception. Piper had planned to host the party in her apartment, but the electric company had shut off her power the day before (it wasn't that she couldn't afford the bill; she'd just forgotten to pay it). So she and her friends were here instead, at their usual table with their usual pitcher of beer, getting ready to celebrate the next mundane year-in-waiting.

Piper was expecting the next year of her life to bring more of the same; she'd been out of college for over six months now, and in that time she hadn't managed to do anything meaningful with her degree. She still lived in her college town, working last-call shifts as a waitress and making just enough money to get by without asking her parents for help, which she was determined not to do. She wanted to prove to them that she could move through the world as her own person, unaided, even if it meant cutting back on the kind of luxuries she'd become accustomed while they were still sending her an allowance. She told herself assertively that she wasn't a teenager anymore - she was twenty-two, a grown woman, and she was going to make it through another year the same way she'd made it through this one: by budgeting tight, playing hard, and, on occasion, crying it out in the shower.

"Who's buying the next round?" her best friend Polly demanded. Immediately everyone at the table placed their index finger against the tip of their nose; everyone except Piper, who'd been staring dreamily into space as she pictured the empty desert of her future prospects.

"Piper!"

She blinked in surprise. "Wait, what? No! Not fair!" she protested, staring around at them all in wide-eyed incredulity, before casting Polly a look of deep betrayal. "I wasn't ready!"

"Too bad," her friend said with a shrug. "Nose goes. It's the rule."

"Fine," she huffed, getting up from the table and heading for the bar. She was glad for an excuse to get away from the table for a few minutes, anyway. Polly and her new boyfriend, Andy, seemed unable to keep their hands off each other. They kept grabbing at each other under the table, squealing like stupid teenagers while everyone else rolled their eyes. It was revolting.

But despite that, Piper was in a good mood. She'd had enough to drink by now to sustain a pleasant buzz, and as she waited to get the bartenders attention she began to dance a little in place, singing softly under her breath. "Then what makes, then what makes, then what makes, love the exception..."

Bobbing her head around in time with the music, she turned to the side and found herself looking into a familiar gaze. It took her a minute to place the face, but then she had it: it was the hot brunette she'd met a few weeks ago in a different bar, when she'd been searching for jobs to apply to. Alex. That was her name.

Alex looked even more intimidating tonight than she had on that previous occasion. She was wearing a tight black dress that hid all but a hint of cleavage, and yet created a very suggestive silhouette. Her dark-framed glasses seemed to magnify the bright look of amusement in her eyes, which were an indescribable green-grey hue. She was staring at Piper with one eyebrow arched, her lips pressed into an amused little smirk. On cue, Piper stopped bouncing and felt her cheeks turn pink with embarrassment.

"Oh no, don't stop on my account," the woman said with a smirk, leaning back in her seat and idly crossing her legs. "I want to see you shake it like a polaroid picture."

In that moment, Piper wanted nothing more than to sink through a hole in the floor and never be seen again. She was tempted to feign confusion, pretend she didn't remember meeting Alex before now, but it was no good: no one could forget a face like this one. "Alex," she said, finally, her voice coming out in a high-pitched squeak.

"Piper Chapman," the dark-haired woman replied, sounding infinitely more at ease. She set her beer down idly on the bar, giving Piper her full attention. "I like seeing this side of you. Less Laura Ingalls Wilder, more Fergie-Ferg."

"Oh god," Piper whispered, covering her face with her hands. "Can you please just go back to mocking my résumé?"

"Tell me you don't work here."

"I don't work here," she replied, perhaps a little too defensively. It was not for lack of trying, in fact - she'd applied twice in a four-month period. In the end, though, it was probably for the best. If she'd gotten the job she'd never spend another night away from this place. It would subsequently lose all of its shabby chic appeal, and then she'd have to buy her drinks at a pricier bar.

"Good," Alex said, with a smile and a nod. "What are you having?"

"Why?" She lowered her hands from her face, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Because I'm buying you a drink."

Piper bit her lip; what did sophisticated people drink? Not margaritas in winter, Alex had made fun of her for that.

She said the first thing that came into her head: "Sex on the beach?"

She regretted it immediately.

"Okay, wow," the dark-haired woman said, between bouts of laughter. "The innuendo is too obvious, I'm not even going to say it."

"No one sets me up as the butt of a joke better than I do," Piper agreed, smiling sheepishly. Then her face fell as she groaned, leaning forward so that her hair formed a protective curtain. "Don't," she said, warningly, before Alex could reply.

"Don't what? Make a joke about your ass?" She was still laughing. "Don't need to, you beat me to it."

"I think I need that drink," Piper said, in a tone of defeat. She emerged from the protective shield of her long, meticulously crimped hair, and met Alex's gaze with a tentative smile.

Alex chuckled, placing her elbow delicately atop the bar and motioning for the busy bartender's attention. When she finally got it, she asked for two shots. "It's the middle of fucking winter," she informed Piper, in reply to the blonde's perplexed expression. "Not the time for fruity cocktails."

"What?! It's the perfect time!" Piper protested. "It's, you know- escapism. Makes you forget about the fact that it's freezing out."

"Hm. My escape is a flight to Fiji," Alex said, with a shrug. "Just got back yesterday." There was a self-satisfied look on her face, as if this kind of travel was something she took pleasure in bragging about often. Not that Piper could blame her.

"So when you said you were skipping town, you meant literally," the blonde said, putting the pieces together. Alex had mentioned last time they met that she traveled often for work, but Piper wasn't sure what exactly her job was. The drug cartel thing had to be a joke. Alex looked a little rough around the edges, sure. She had that tattooed, dyed hair thing going on. But in Piper's experience, attractive white women in the prime of their lives didn't start peddling drugs on street corners. "What do you really do for a living?" She asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

Alex raised her eyebrows. "I don't like to talk business on my nights off," she said, vaguely. Then she slid the second shot glass toward Piper, who lifted it hesitantly.

"Vodka? Straight?"

"When in winter, do as the Russians."

"Unless you're in Fiji," Piper quipped, with a small smile.

"Unless you're in Fiji," Alex agreed, raising her shot glass. "Cheers."

Piper watched the brunette toss back her shot, and then did the same. As she swallowed, her gaze wandered back to the corner booth where Polly was now waving at her impatiently, looking exasperated. The rest of the group was gone.

"Is that your date?" Alex asked, with an odd, vaguely hostile look in her eyes.

"In a manner of speaking," Piper replied. "That's my friend, Polly."

"Ah, right." Her expression softened. "The manager of Le Grand Fromage," she said, teasingly.

Piper was mildly impressed by the fact that Alex could remember so many details about her fake résumé, and more than mildly pleased that it had apparently been so memorable. "That's the one," she confirmed, grinning at the inside joke.

"Well if she works you too hard, come find me. I know some great relaxation techniques." She stood up, gave Piper a little salute, and then turned around to rejoin her own group of friends. Piper studied the sway of Alex's hips as she departed and wondered if that little sashay was put on just to tease her. If so, it was definitely working. The thought made her cheeks burn and she turned away quickly, refocusing her attention on the needy best friend who was waiting back at their table.

"Took you long enough," Polly said, by way of greeting. "Where's the beer?"

"Oh. I forgot it," Piper said, feigning regret. "Where is everyone?"

"Playing pool," Polly said, with a relieved sigh. "I don't know what's gotten into Andy, he's even hornier than usual tonight."

"Yeah, I've noticed. We've all noticed," Piper added, pointedly, and Polly groaned.

"That bad? Jesus, I'm sorry. I'll tell him to stop. He's so embarrassing sometimes, I swear. Like, he gets so fucking wasted, and then when I try to confront him about it he's all, 'Babe, stop being bossy!" And I'm like, fuck off! You know? I mean, don't get me wrong, he's cute, and the sex is-"

"Polly! Stop. Please. I don't want to hear another word about Andy's dick, okay?"

Polly sighed. "Speaking of your aversion to dicks - who where you talking to at the bar? Do you know her?"

"I don't have an aversion," Piper replied, defensively. For some reason, Polly had a hard time wrapping her head around Piper's fluid sexuality. "I've dated more guys than you have."

"Slut," Polly chortled. "You didn't answer the question."

"Kind of. I've met her before. Remember like two months, when I applied for a job at that place down the street?"

"Oh my god, that's the sarcastic asshole who said I wasn't management material?" Polly craned her neck, peering across the room. The table of Alex's friends was just barely visible, and from the way they were clapping and cheering they seemed to be engaged in a boisterous round of Quarters.

"Way to make it all about you, Pol. Don't stare at her, she'll see you!"

"No she won't, her back is turned. She looks kind of... older. How old is she?"

"I don't know, Polly, I didn't ask! She bought me a drink, we talked for like five minutes, that's it."

Polly was still trying to catch a glimpse of brunette's face, but Alex remained turned in the other direction. "Is she hot?" Polly asked, giving up and turning back to face her friend.

Piper didn't hesitate. "Yes," she confirmed. "Very."

Not textbook, though. Alex wasn't conventionally attractive; she wasn't conventional anything. She looked like the grownup version of the girl you'd meet a punk concert at age fourteen - the blue streaks in her hair, the heavy sarcasm, the cocky attitude. On anyone else it would have seemed juvenile, but somehow Alex pulled it off. Maybe it was in the way she carried herself, like she knew she was hot shit. Maybe it was because her attitude was the perfect foil to Piper's cautious outlook. Whatever -it- was, Alex definitely had Piper's attention.

"You know," Polly ventured, "Andy and Tim are playing pool right near her table. We could..."

"Join them?" Piper finished, studying the conspiratorial smile on her friend's face as she, too, began to grin. "I mean, it would be rude not to, right? We can't just ignore Andy and Tim."

"Exactly," Polly concluding, nodding in approval.

They stopped at the bar on their way. It was only an hour until midnight, and Piper didn't feel nearly drunk enough yet to ring in the new year. Drinks in her hand, she and Polly made their way over to the pool table where the guys were playing. They were evidently inebriated enough to be evenly matched; they kept taking turns knocking the cue ball into the pocket and then laughing as if they'd done it on purpose, even though they were clearly trying not to.

"Boys can be such idiots sometimes," Polly said, sipping her drink and rolling her eyes.

"Boys in general, or these two specifically?" Piper quipped, sneaking a sideways glance at Alex's table. The brunette was no longer there. Piper felt a pang of disappointment and wondered if she'd had left to hit up another bar before the night was over. She didn't have to wait long for her answer, however.

"Holy shit!" Polly hissed.

"What?"

"She's coming over here!"

"Huh? I don't-" Piper started to turn her head, but Polly stamped hard on her toes. "Ouch! What was that for!"

"Don't turn around," Polly whispered, frantically. "She's coming up behind you!"

She started laughing in a slightly manic way, pretending to be amused by something Piper had just said. Trying to remain cool, Piper took an overly large gulp of her drink and then nearly choked on it in surprise when she felt a hand tap her on the shoulder.

"Mind it I cut in?"

Piper was momentarily speechless as she struggled to swallow her drink without coughing it up. Noting her distress, Polly quickly intervened.

"Not at all," she said, cheerfully. "I'll just, um... go talk to Andy." She flashed Piper a knowing smile before making herself scarce.

Piper had gotten herself under control by this time, and turned around to find Alex staring at her in frank amusement, head cocked slightly to one side. She was leaning her weight casually against a pool stick.

"Wanna play a round?"

Piper scoffed. "I don't think so. I'm not giving you another excuse to make fun of me, Alex."

Ignoring this protest completely, Alex laid the stick down across the table and started racking up the balls. "Come on, you can't be that bad."

"Oh, trust me. I am."

"One game," Alex insisted. Her tone was casual, but firm, with a steely no-nonsense undertone that made it difficult to say no.

Piper sighed. "Fine," she grudgingly acquiesced, folding her arms across her chest and watch Alex set up the game. When the brunette was done racking up the balls, she set down the cue ball and lined up the shot. As she bent over the table, the tip of her tongue poked through her teeth in concentration as she steadied herself. Piper couldn't help but admire the way that little black dress hugged her curves. The cue stick shot out like a piston, and it was a good hard break that sent one of the solid-colored balls spinning into the corner pocket. Two more followed, before the brunette finally missed.

Alex shrugged and offered the cue stick to Piper, whose arms were still folded across her chest in protest. "You've basically already won. And I told you, I'm terrible."

The brunette laughed, seemingly amused by the younger girl's stubbornness. "You've probably just never been taught how to line up your shot properly."

When Piper showed no inclination to move, Alex took matters into her own hands - literally. She pressed her palm against the curve of Piper's lower back, nudging her forward toward the table. "Come on," she chuckled. Then, lowering her head so that her lips were very close to Piper's ear, she whispered, "I can be a very a good teacher."

And just like that, Piper realized she was in deep trouble. She sucked in a steadying breath, trying to decide how to respond, but Alex saved her from the decision by taking charge.

"Lean forward," the brunette instructed.

Piper bent just slightly at the waist, remaining deliberately upright. She might be awful at billiards, but this was a game she could play better.

"Like this?" she asked, feigning innocence.

Wise to her tricks, Alex laughed.

"Nooo," she drawled, pressed a firm hand against Piper's back again. "Like this," she corrected. "Now, take the stick..." and she pressed it into Piper's palms.

"How do I hold it?"

In response, Alex curled her hand around the underside of Piper's right elbow before sliding it slowly, teasingly, down the length of her arm. Then she covered the back of Piper's hand with her own, adjusting her grip. "Hold it tight," she whispered.

"And the other hand?"

Alex reached around to arrange the blonde's fingers. "Lay the base of your palm flat," she instructed, "and steady the end of the stick with your fingers, like this."

She had her arms on either side of Piper now, boxing her in. They were standing very close together. Piper, aware this fact, wriggled back experimentally on the pretext of adjusting her position. There was a barely audible intake of breath behind her, and then Alex pressed her hips forward to close the small gap between them.

"Take your aim," Alex said, with a throaty chuckle. She blanketed Piper's hands with her own, helping her line up the shot. "And... whenever you're ready."

Piper tensed, and then thrust the stick forward. It struck the cue ball perfectly in the center, driving it the length of the table before knocking one of the striped balls hard into the corner pocket.

"Hah!" Piper exclaimed in triumph, twisting around to face Alex. The brunette allowed her enough space to maneuver, but didn't pull away. She leaned forward, bracing her hands against the edge of the table on either side of Piper's waist, pinning the blonde in front of her body.

"Piper Chapman," she purred, "are you trying to hustle me?"

They were, once again, very close together. Piper took the opportunity to study Alex's face; really study it. The elegant arch of her brows, the curve of her cheek, the full, dark outline of her lips... She glanced quickly back up to meet Alex's gaze, feeling suddenly shy. All at once, the alcohol in her system seemed to catch up with her and she felt pleasantly buoyant.

"No," she whispered, smiling softly.

Alex's eyes wandered downward, and then flicked back up, boring into hers with startling intensity; for a moment, it seemed to Piper as if they might kiss. She'd never been the type to have a one-night stand with a stranger. This oddly intimate chemistry was a new experience for her, and she liked it.

Alex moved a fraction of an inch closer and Piper's stomach seemed to drop, not unlike the feeling you get when you miss a step going down a stairwell. It was a feeling of unbalance, accompanied by the uncertainty of whether you were about to make a wrong move and end up falling headfirst.

Then it was over. Alex leaned back, removing her hands so that Piper was free from that welcome prison of flesh.

"It's almost midnight," she said, by way of explanation.

"Oh."

"Time to ring in the new year."

"Right."

Piper tried not to look disappointed. She lifted her drink and finished off what was left in the glass. The television above the bar was showing Times Square in all its New Year's glory, filled with a massive crowd of revelers who were now cheering wildly, watching the giant glimmering ball descent.

The crowd in the bar began to chant: "Ten! Nine! Eight!"

Piper glanced sideways; Alex was calling out the countdown along with the rest. She caught Piper's eye.

"... six! Five! Four! Three!"

On "two," Piper felt a soft tug on her hand.

On "one," Alex had tangled her fingers in the blonde's hair, the other pressing gently beneath her chin to tilt her head higher.

"Happy New Year!"

The first kiss was gentle, almost tentative, a soft meeting of lips and just the barest touch of tongue. Then they stared at each other, bright eyed and flushed with elated surprise. Alex stroked Piper's chin with her thumb, a questioning look in her eyes. Piper answered it by leaning forward, and this time the kiss was less tender. It was hot and heavy and demanding, the kind of kiss you look back on later and think, yes, that's how it started, that's how we ended up here.

It's often said that the midnight kiss sets the tone for the entire year - that a good one serves as a promise of romance, while a bad one warns of a long period of loneliness. As New Year's kisses went, this one was wonderfully fortuitous. It was the moment that Piper Chapman came unstuck, felt the world begin moving beneath her; the start of the year that Alex Vause tilted her life on its axis, as sudden and unexpected as the meeting of two strangers in a small-town dive bar.

It was, in every way, a new beginning.