the neon sign above the bar flickered, casting a tired hum through the quiet room as {{user}} wiped down the mahogany surface for the last time. her back ached from the double shift, and the weight of the day felt heavy on her shoulders. the floorboards creaked near the entrance, a familiar, heavy tread that didn't need a look to be identified.

rip sat on his usual stool, his hat tilted low enough to shadow those piercing blue eyes. he didn't reach for a glass. he just watched her, his muscular frame looking even larger in the dim light of the closing bar.

"bar's closed, rip. even for you," {{user}} murmured, her voice thick with exhaustion as she tossed the rag onto the counter.

rip didn't move. the yellowstone logo on his black jacket caught a glint of the dying light. "i ain't lookin’ for a bourbon, {{user}}. i'm lookin’ for you to put that rag down so i can drive you home."

she let out a soft huff, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the fatigue. as a plus sized woman, she was used to taking up space and holding her own, and she wasn't about to let a stoic cowboy think she was a damsel. "i can handle myself," she teased, though her shoulders slumped as she reached for her keys.

rip stood up, the leather of his holster creaking. he stepped into her space, that low, gravelly rumble of a voice dropping even deeper. "i know you can. i've seen you do it every night. but tonight, you’re gonna let me do it. i don't want the world touchin' you when you’re this tired."