A/N: I hope this is what you're waiting for. Please please tell me what you think, it it's any good. I've been looking forward to it a lot, I hope it's a good end to your weekend lovelies!

Also you should play Come Alive - WE ARE TWIN for this chapter. That is all I have to say. No spoilers.

Cheers all,
Rosey xoxo

One for the Road Ch 4 – Interceptions

Naomi woke up the next morning feeling bittersweet about the day. On the one hand, she had been able to get through the night and successfully evaded a hangover. Disregarding the fact that she basically puked it all up, but still. The victory lay in th comfort of not having a pounding head and hands over ears. On the other hand, thinking about why she had puked had put an enormous damper on her grateful mood.

What was his name? Brad? What kind of a shit name is Brad? Absolutely ridiculous, the blonde thought, and she stuck to her blazing guns of annoyance—anything to keep herself from falling apart.

She thought they had been getting somewhere, or at least becoming friends. Hell, when Emily had pecked her cheek, she thought there might be a speck of unreasonable hope lingering between them. Something minute, but still something.

Apparently the blonde had been mistaken.

Apparently Brad was 'all the rage' nowadays. His fucking pretty boy attitude and movie-worthy romantic consideration. Ugh. Naomi was doing herself no favors by lingering on this guy. It really was none of her business—not at all—what Emily chose to pursue and when it came down to it, the facts were there: she was the bartender and Emily was a paying customer who was divulging drunkenly. That's what could be taken out of it. She had no right to call her out in haste.

But maybe, Naomi whined, just maybe she wished she did have that right.

Hearing the kettle go off, she shook herself out of her thoughts enough to jump out of bed (especially quick without the cloud of alcohol lingering) and shut it off. She went through the day uneventfully, but couldn't shake the sour mood she had sunk into. Her tea tasted bland, the weather was dull and overcast, and everything just seemed a bit lifeless. The day dragged on and for once, she wasn't counting down the minutes in excitement. She was dreading it.

But time did pass and before she knew it, Naomi was getting ready for her shift, being sure to get her apron on straight off the bat. She tossed the wash from yesterday into the dryer, setting the timer and head out with a sigh. The blonde arrived with a few minutes to spare and went to the loo to rinse up and collect herself. It's just another shift, she reasoned, another night and Emily will stop by. And Brad...

A twinge of something bubbled in her chest that thankfully wasn't the hurt she was expecting and she let it simmer as she took her usual spot behind the counter. Efft came out smirking a silent hello and Naomi did her best to pull out a grimace at best. It was going to be an eventful night.

…...

Nearly two hours later and the blonde was on the verge of becoming a mess. It was a fairly busy night, enough people to keep her consistently busy without releasing her frazzled side. But the customers weren't driving her off the deep end, that was Emily's going. Or rather, it wasn't her going—Naomi had been burning holes starting at the door waiting to see the redhead come in. But so far? Nothing. No trace at all. Effy caught her glance a few times and raised a brow in question—the blonde disregarded it. She didn't have the patience or the temper to try and explain anything right now. Instead, she delivered a round of tequila and lime to a hen party set on pre-gaming before hitting the clubs. They insisted that the bartender take one with them. They didn't know she would have taken it without them anyway.

…...

Another hour later when the blonde's burning stare had dwindled to warm flickers, the door finally opened releasing a small crowd of college or uni students. Naomi nearly bolted to them when she saw the skin-tight dress seriously enhancing Emily's assets but stopped herself when she saw the supposed rehdead with purple hair instead, and large hoop earrings. It was wrong, so very wrong.

So one wrong Emily, one other blonde WAG, and three large (and admittedly fit) wankers later, the bartender nearly gave up and confessed her fault that she might have been entirely wrong about Emily. She might have been nothing what she imagined her to be as the pretentious crowd strolled through McClair's. But then the door closed behind the last tosser and it jammed as it his something behind his shoulder, showing—as he moved on—the withdrawn beautiful form of Emily, struggling behind. The small girl was hopelessly out of place but Naomi had never been more happy to see such luscious, red rich red hair before in her life. At least she came.

The split second happiness was short lived.

Just after she had stumbled through the door, the last muscle head had turned around with a pathetically sorry look on his face and said something that Emily had answered with a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Naomi could swear the redhead had tucked her waved hred hair behind her ear and turned to look at the bar, but just as she held her breath to contain her hope, the fucking wanker stepped back to block their view and motioned fucking politely for ladies first. Ugh. It was so full of shit, she thought.

What really riled the blonde up though was that as soon as the redhead stepped forward following the rest of them, he placed his grimy hand on Emily's back to follow her—he then let it fall lower until half his hand was basically on her ass. The barkeep didn't know how she was able to keep herself from flying across the bar and caving his face in, but it took every last ounce of her will. That, and a double shot of tequila leftover from the hen party.

They all crowded in a half-circle booth with Emily insisting fucking Brad go in first and leaving her on the end. Opposite her on the other end was (apparently) Emily's sister and her drooling shag of the night. God, the bartender thought, I hope Em is nothing like her. The guy opposite the redhead stood up to get drinks, and as he did so, fucking Brad gave him a cheer and put his arm across the top of the booth behind Emily.

Who the fuck do you think you are, Naomi fumed silently, you shit tosser, you think those muscles are impressing anyone? Jesus, why don't you just go fuck off Brad...

"Oi," a voice interrupted rudely, "gimme a pitcher." She was having none of his cuntish attitude but bit her tongue—clearly on her last nerve—while he looked her up and down. Leaning in, he offered suggestively, "You know, whenever you're done here, I wouldn't mind a round with you either. I bet you're a fuckin' minx in bed, aren't you?"

"Naomi!" a voice called out sharply, and the blonde's surprise was the only ting that kept her from swinging the already called up fist square into his crotch. Hard. She glared over at the sound and saw her mate Effy challenging her stare with a smirt not even trying to hide. With a tremendous effort she didn't know she still had, the bartender forced herself to walk away and angrily walked toward the brunette. Coming to a stop, she waited for something to be said, but the other girl stayed silent smirking at her.

"Yes?!" the blonde burst at last, "Can I help you?" she gritted through her teeth.

"You're off at ten," she replied, seeming a bit smug, "Cook's coming in for close." Naomi looked at the clock—20:06. Running a hand through her hair, she let out a sigh and then proceeded to pour herself another tequila shot, about to down it when Effy snatched it from her fingers and gulped it back before she could protest.

"Wh...What the fuck?" The brunette wiped her mouth and looked at her mate again. A slight pause before an answer.

"You're clever Naomi. But when you're drunk, you're careless. And something tells me you want a thread of sobriety in two hours time," she stated vaguely and then took the entire tequila bottle away as she turned to go to her end of the counter, "Have fun."

Naomi gaped questionably at the now empty space missing a person and the much needed alcohol, but instead of losing her shit and punching someone, she felt herself struggle a deep breath in. Of fucking course it wasn't the preferred option, god knows she would have loved to turn fucking Brad's smug grin inside out, but the waves in her kept her in place for the moment. She would take a page out of the brunette's book and read the bunch for a bit. See what they were up to what they like—and admittedly, the bartender was pained to admit—see if it was really what Emily wanted.

She popped open a winecooler instead, innocent enough, and tucked it under the counter as she went back to her place, having to wipe up the beer the fucker sloshed everywhere. Breathe, she self-soothed, for now just breathe. And she watched. And she waited.

It was the shortest and longest two hours of her entire life. On one hand, she watched them with a detail that would impress even Effy, but on the other hand, all she could do was watch. She was stuck there behind the counter, not even allowed to go clean tables because Effy had purposefully brought Thomas up to play busboy for the evening. Fucks sake, Naomi fumed, tempers rising again.

What she found however, on her occupational restriction, was enough to give her a shred of hope.

Right after the sister's fuckhead got back with the pitcher, the three guys jumped straight in, pouring themselves a hearty amount. Emily's sister (basically the WAG twin) stole a few swigs from the fuckheads and he encouraged her by tipping the glass back, which made her dribble a small amount onto her chest. It certainly didn't stop him from diving in mouth first (absolutely no fucking shame, Naomi thought) to make sure not of drop of precious liqour was wasted. The blonde WAG was nearly as bad, but Emily...Emily declined it all. Not even one sip from...Brad's glass.

The boys were nearly as bad as Cook. The minute the glass was empty they poured another, and another and another. And it was showing. After the first round they got another two pitchers (brought out by Effy, the blonde had been staring daggers in the process) and spread the numbing gold around. After three each they started getting loud. Fuckhead one had banged on the table for shots and fuckhead two was cheering the suggestion on. Effy complied looking completely amused. What the fuck are you playing at Ef, the bartender couldn't help but scold. Brad in the meantime, while being less loud, had gotten increasingly handsy, much to the blonde's dismay.

By the second drink, that dangerous arm had hung limp across her shoulders. It almost seemed to the barkeep like it was weighing the redhead down if the uncomfortable look on her face was anything to go by. By the third drink, his arm had gotten heavier as it sunk down her back until it comfortably (for him anyway) was around the tiny girls waist. Naomi was sure not to miss the way Emily tightened her eyes shut and pursed her mouth when he gave her side a squeeze. The blonde didn't realize that she herself squeezed the bar counter tightly in return.

Another round of shots was ordered (by fuckhead one shouting across the bar) and after the fourth was downed, the WAGs became flirty, the wankers became rowdy, and Brad became, in Naomi's view, way too fucking much. The look on Emily's face of split second panics every few minutes had pushed her to her breaking point. She put her second wine cooler down and started round the corner before the door up front dinged open and in came Cook, hands tossed in the air yelling across the bar as he strode forward.

"NAOMIKINS! Hows my favorite muff muncher?" Said girl hadn't been watching Cook though, her eyes were trained to the redhead across the way and something bubbled in her chest when Emily whipped her head back at the question, finally finally meeting their eyes. And damn her to hell if it wasn't the relief Naomi had been craving for the endless hours. One look from the girl and it wasn't just ending a drought, it was filling her up. She was her monsoon and now she was flooding the vats of courage that had been empty before. The bartender was ready for this, she wasn't even rushed anymore, despite Emily tucking her head back to the table and looking down in her lap, that beautiful curtain of cherry rosewood hair falling across her face. Her mind was made up.

Cook strolled over pompously as ever, dropping some bags and his tan jacket on the lower counter next to the blonde. He was about to come up with some witty sexual offer, as he always greeted his favorite girl, but he didn't even get a chance to before Naomi had untied her apron and tossed it as his chest.

"You all set then Cook? Got it all?" she asked calmly, but her mind already elsewhere.

"Yup, ready for a night with all these pissers. Jack 'ere is gonna drink 'em all under the table, you just wait," he grinned his toothy smile. She had to grin back at his antics.

"Great. Only one thing," she pointed at Emily's unlikely bunch of mates, "that table gets no more drinks no matter what Effy says. And make sure you double charge all the wankers yeah? Take my word for it."

He raised a bored brow at the crowd, before shrugging and reassuing her with a, "Will do babes."

She smirked small once more before whispering, "Wish me luck Cookie," and patted his shoulder as she set off determined through McClairs.

She passed the tables near the bar, moving around one or two to focus on her straight shot path. Naomi took a deep breath her nerves suddenly racing. Her strides got quicker, matching her rapidly pounding heart and became high off the adrenaline. She was well nervous, that was obvious, but she was going to do this. Part of her thought that she was always going to do this, it couldn't have gone any other way. She couldn't stop if she tried.

Passed under the thin row of lights brought reality into play. Twenty feet away. She could make out the redheads short shorts and blue plaid top, and it made her breath catch. Not that that was helpful—she was having trouble breathing as it was. God fucking Brad had suddenly dropped his hands from Emily's waist to the top of her ass and it only made the bartender more sure of herself.

She heard a catcall, loud, from behind her and made out Cook's hollering from behind. Even though she didn't look back, Emily did, and by the time her eyes widened the blonde was already upon her, twisting around at the last minute and dropping easily into the girls lap. Naomi felt the entire body under her shudder at the contact and noticed a loss of equilibrium when the redhead leaned back to accommodate her, forcing Brad to withdraw his arm in complete surprise.

That's fine by me, was the barkeeps last thought before wrapping her arms sweetly around Emily's neck, watching her eyes glass over with shock and surreal want. She was enticed in watching—in feeling—the tiny girl react to her presence and at once Naomi was absolutely sure that the last two hours, the last full day Emily had thought nothing for Brad. The way her lips parted with uneven breath and her eyes tinted black—no, she was sure it was of her. Even if it wasn't, she wanted the girl so bad, she could hardly stand it. The blonde gripped one hand on the collar, threaded one through a sea of red and surged forward.

Their lips met and every ounce of nerves, of adrenaline seeped into Emily, drowing a whimper in the barkeeps mouth, having her tense and pull at the other girls' back so that their fronts were flush. Naomi was gone—lost in the soft tenderness the other girl brought forth from her. Despite the desperate beginning, it melted into a heart warming, shattering kiss that both of the girls had been losing their minds over, waiting for this feeling.

And Christ what a feeling it was.

The blonde wasn't sure it was possible to feel so sated, so completely released from all her previous tensions, when the build up in her body was everything but. It was as if she were champagne, and when Emily came to rattle up her life, it let the sweet fizzing shoot up through her veins, leaving just as sweet a taste in her mouth. She was aware when the redhead moved their mouths together firmer, sliding her tongue across the older girls lips and making Naomi slip out a gasped moan. She had to stop. She had to, or she would need all of the girl, every part of Emily at that very minute. More reluctant than anything in her life, she pulled away, but kept the two of them barely apart.

After a long moment of silence, Brad (whose voice was just as annoying as Naomi remembered) finally said something.

"What the hell was that? Who is she Emily?" But Emily wasn't looking at Brad. The two girls weren't looking at anyone but each other and it was only when Naomi jumped unexpectedly to her feet, dragging the redhead completely willing behind her that she answered for the small girl.

"She," Naomi stated smugly about herself, "is the complication you heard about. Now go fuck yourself, Brad."

The two girls half-ran, half-stumbled to the door and before pushed through, Naomi stopped, about to head back real quick to grab them both something from behind the counter, as was their ritual, but Emily stopped her, smiling so brightly, the barkeep was sure she had enough champagne in her veins to make up for it.

"If we're getting one for the road, I know what I want," the redhead said huskily, "and she's coming back to mine." Naomi was dumbfounded and didn't try in the least to stop her when Emily took both of her hands and pulled them both the door and into the night.