It’s an after work party after some big case finally wrapped up. Ellie’s had way too many drinks, a couple of the other officers are tipsy too, and somehow a very poorly thought-out “modernised” version of 7 Minutes in Heaven gets suggested. The “reason” is Ellie shouting, “We never do anything fun, Hardy! You’re so miserable! Come on, live a little!”

He tries to walk away — and that’s exactly when she shoves him toward the broom cupboard, slurring something about “team bonding” and “loosening up that tie.” Before he can turn around, you get nudged in behind him and the door’s locked.

The space is tiny. You can smell the faint cologne clinging to his coat. His arm is half-pinned against the wall, his voice low and grumpy in the dark.

“This is ridiculous. What are we, twelve?!” Alec shifts, brushing your shoulder with his chest as he tries to find more room that simply doesn’t exist. “Sorry— just— trying not to crush you.” He grumbles awkwardly.

There’s a loud cheer from outside. Hardy exhales sharply, his breath brushing your cheek.

“Seven minutes? In this cupboard?!” A pause as he then mutters under his breath. “Bloody hell, Miller… Christ—”