#jily cop bet fic

[downn-in-flames]

9.9 Out of 10, Highly Recommend (chapter 1)

2 bets. 10 days. Endless shenanigans.

{A Brooklyn 99 meets How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days Jily fic}

Read it on: HPFT | AO3 | FFnet

THE BET

At 10 pm on a Tuesday night, James Potter and Lily Evans are both rather impressively drunk.

They don’t know this particular fact about one another though, because they’re at bars across town from one another, with totally different groups of coworkers.

Although if you asked Lily, she really wouldn’t be surprised to learn that James was drinking on a Tuesday - that’s not too far out of character for him, anyways. James, on the other hand, would be absolutely gobsmacked to learn that cookie-cutter rule-follower Lily Evans was getting smashed on a weekday, when they’ve got work tomorrow.

She has good reason for it though - she’s celebrating. She’s only found out earlier today that she’s getting promoted to sergeant in a new department, which is just one step closer to her dream of becoming captain of a whole precinct and then commissioner of the entire NYPD.

In other words, her entire 25-year plan is right on track.

“The precinct is going to be weird without you,” Mary says, taking a sip of her beer.

From anyone else, that would be a mild compliment at best, but from Mary, that’s practically the equivalent of an overly emotional hug, sobbing and all.

Mary may be one of Lily’s closest friends, but she’s always been an impressively impassive and private person, even with people she’s known for years.

“She’s right,” Marlene adds. “Who’s going to get onto Black every time he decides to do something ridiculous like fill the vending machines with rotting vegetables?”

“And then stop Lupin from punching him, because we all know how he feels about the office vending machine,” Mary quips.

It’s an odd thing to be passionate about, but Remus has an impressive level of dedication to the office vending machine, which is in all honestly probably older than all of them and can only be filled with candy bars because anything larger gets stuck.

Lily laughs - it’s louder than her normal laugh, a sure sign that she’s surpassed Three-Drink Lily. “You’ve got Kingsley and Dumbledore for that.”

Marlene rolls her eyes. “Please. Don’t get me wrong, they’re great at their jobs, but when have they ever been able to rein in Lupin and Black?”

“When have I ever been able to rein in Lupin and Black?” Lily replies, before frowning at her now-empty fourth drink.

“You’re able to rein in Potter, and Potter is able to rein in Lupin and Black.”

Lily scoffs at that, because, in her opinion, she doesn’t have much control over Potter either. And if she were more sober, she’d elegantly manoeuver right around that particular topic of conversation, because it’s a viewpoint she’s always differed with her co-workers on.

But she’s just crossed the threshold into Four-Drink Lily, and Four-Drink Lily has conversational grace equivalent to Peter doing ballet. That is to say, none whatsoever.

“I’ve got no more power over Potter than either of you.”

Marlene giggles at that. “You can tell yourself that all you like, but you know he has a thing for you.”

“Trust me,” Mary adds. “I have to watch him make heart eyes at you all day long. He definitely likes you.”

Mary’s desk does face James, so that claim is actually pretty plausible.

Lily still doesn’t buy it though. “Oh please, Potter doesn’t like me. He likes the idea of me.”

“Meaning?” Marlene prods.

“He’s created some idealised version of me in his head,” she says. “I’m the hot coworker who sits at the desk next to him - it’s practically a fantasy situation. And as such, he’s built me up in his head as this dream girl of his - and that’s the girl he has a crush on. Not me.”

Mary rolls her eyes. “Fuck, I’m going to need another drink if you’re going to psychoanalyze people this hard tonight.”

“Can you get all of us another round while you’re at it?” Marlene asks. “It’s your turn to buy anyways.”

“One beer, one whiskey Diet Coke, and one cosmo, coming right up.”

“You’re a doll, Mary,” Marlene replies, knowing full well that the term of endearment will annoy her coworker.

“Fuck off, McKinnon,” Mary retorts, before getting up and heading over to the bar.

Marlene almost immediately turns back to Lily. “Why are you so convinced he doesn’t actually like you? What proof do you have of that?”

“Potter’s the idealistic type, we all know that,” Lily replies reasonably. “He decided I’m his dream girl when I got assigned the desk next to him, and hasn’t paid attention to any evidence to the contrary ever since.”

The other girl eyes her skeptically. “And that evidence is?”

“We’re so different.” Lily has no idea how that’s not abundantly obvious to everyone.

Lily’s the type of person who has a 25-year life plan. James is the type of person who can’t think more than three days in advance - it’s why most of the precinct has taken to sending him calendar invites for every little thing. Lily color codes her sock drawer, and James has had the same empty Coke can sitting on his desk for the past four months and eight days.

She’s kept count of it. It’s been on her nerves for four months and seven days.

“They say opposites attract, you know,” Marlene replies, smirking. “But really, I don’t think you and Potter are actually that different. Yeah, you’ve got different habits and whatnot, but at the same time, you’re both fuelled by the same things. I know you say he’s blinded by a version of you that he’s created in his head, but you’re blinded by an imaginary version of him too, babe.”

“Am not,” Lily answers stubbornly.

“Honestly, if you just gave him a chance, I think you’d find that you two are good for each other.”

Mary returns with their drinks at that moment, which gives Lily a little bit of time to think through Marlene’s comments.

Lily would be lying to herself if she said she didn’t find James good-looking. It’s kind of hard not to find the boy attractive, what with the dark, messy hair, the sharp jawline regularly dotted with stubble, and the cute little dimple on his right cheek that pops out when he smiles. Not to mention that he’s over 6 foot and decently built - a bit on the skinnier side, but Lily’s always kind of preferred that to the gym bro archetype - all of which puts him firmly in the realm of exactly her type.

He’s also actually pretty funny, and some of his overly dramatic antics serve to lighten the mood on particularly stressful days at the precinct. And he was the first person to congratulate her today when the news broke that she was getting promoted.

So yeah, she’s definitely attracted to him, at least a little bit. But she’ll never admit to that - it’d practically be social suicide amongst her co-workers - and they’d inevitably blow it way out of proportion. Thinking a guy is cute and funny doesn’t equate wanting to spend the rest of your life with them, no matter what Marlene may believe to the contrary.

“I’m telling you, I doubt he’s actually into me like that,” Lily finally says, taking the first sip of her fifth drink. “He wants one part of me, and that’s it. The rest is something he’s created in his own mind. He’d take me for a ride, realise he doesn’t actually like the real version of me, and drop me.”

“And I say you’re wrong,” Marlene replies, taking her cosmo off of Mary’s hands.

“I’m actually with Marlene on this one,” Mary says. “He’s into you, full stop.”

Lily hates being outnumbered. And she also hates being told that she’s wrong, which is probably what fuels what she says next.

“I guarantee you that, if Potter knew what I’m like in a relationship - what he’d be signing himself up for in going out with me - he’d realise he’s not actually into me,” she tells them both. “Fuck, I’d even put money on it.”

“And I’d put money on it that he’s half in love with you, and ‘knowing what you’re like in a relationship’ wouldn’t change that one fucking bit,” Mary replies.

“You’re wrong,” Lily replies, looking Mary dead in the eye.

It’s a dangerous decision, getting into a staring contest with Mary, who could probably kill a man with a glare alone, but Five-Drink Lily isn’t afraid of anything. Even if she is pretty sure Mary keeps at least one knife in her combat boots at all times.

“What’s the wager?” Marlene says, breaking Lily’s concentration.

“What do you mean, ‘what’s the wager’?” Lily asks.

“Well, you two both just made a bet, and I’m just curious what’s actually on the table here.”

“That wasn’t an actual bet!” Lily defends immediately.

Mary scoffs. “Yeah, because you know you’ll lose.”

Lily whips around to look at Mary again. “I do not! But a real bet has to have a comprehensive set of rules associated with it, not just vague statements.”

“Let’s make that ‘comprehensive set of rules’ then,” Mary replies, and the use of air quotes has Lily feeling like her friend is most definitely mocking her. “You leave the office in ten days - that’s a built-in timeline right there. Starting tomorrow, you go after him. You take him out on a couple dates or two - no sex required, unless you just really want to, in which case, go for it I guess. You ‘show him your real self’ - but you’re not allowed to dramatically sabotage anything either. If he’s done with you by the time you leave the precinct, you win. If he’s still half in love with you at that point like I know he will be, I win.”

The speed with which Mary just came up with a fully-thought-out proposal almost shocks Lily, but then again, Mary’s only been drinking beer the entire night and has an alcohol tolerance equivalent to her and Marlene combined. So she shouldn’t be surprised, really.

“I can’t date a coworker,” Lily replies.

“Black and Lupin are fucking engaged,” Mary retorts. “You absolutely can date a coworker.”

Mary’s not wrong, per say. There isn’t anything in their HR manual about dating coworkers; it’s a rule Lily’s instituted for herself moreso than anything formalised by the NYPD. Future commissioners don’t get themselves involved in office romances.

“You can suspend your own rules for this,” Marlene adds, all but reading Lily’s mind. “You’re leaving in ten days - there’s no consequences to this like there would be if you still had to share a workspace afterwards.”

She… does have a point.

“Lily’s just making up excuses because she knows I’m right, and she knows she’s going to lose,” Mary says casually, taking another sip of her beer.

Sober Lily is already competitive as hell, and drunk Lily is that intensified tenfold.

“You’re on, McDonald,” Lily says, slamming her drink down on the table so aggressively that a little bit sloshes over the side. “Loser has to sit through one of Peter’s homemade cheese tasting demonstrations - and eat all of them.”

Betting money might’ve been the original proposal, but the comedic value of forcing Mary to sit through Peter’s impassioned explanations of all the possible cheese varieties is worth far more, from Lily’s perspective.

“And has to organise Black’s Drawer of Horrors,” Mary adds, grinning wickedly.

One of the drawers in Sirius’ desk has been filled with a whole host of terrifying objects over his tenure at the precinct - ranging from prank toys to food that’s probably sat there for years. Even Lily, who gets a thrill out of organising pretty much anything else, doesn’t want to get near that thing with a ten-foot pole.

But Lily won’t have to. Because she’s going to win. “You have yourself a deal,” she says, holding out a hand for Mary to shake.

Mary reaches out and shakes it, gripping just a tiny bit harder than necessary. Lily resists the urge to cringe at the force of it - that’s exactly the display of weakness Mary wants to see.

Marlene looks up from the message she’s been typing on her phone and claps her hands delightedly. “Oh, this is absolutely the kind of office excitement we’ve been needing!”

Lily arches an eyebrow at her. “We work at a police precinct. You really think that’s not exciting?”

Marlene shrugs. “Taking down crime rings and whatnot is cool and all, but the juicy gossip is what I’m really here for.”

Lily shouldn’t even be surprised by that, really. Honestly, Marlene could probably have a pretty decent career in reality TV if she ever decided to leave the precinct.

“There’s not going to be any juicy gossip,” Lily says. “James is going to go out with me twice, realise I’m not what he signed up for, and that’ll be the end of that. No juicy gossip involved.”

“Whatever you say, Lil,” Marlene laughs.

That’s really all there is to it, Lily tells herself. She’s going to win this bet, start her new job, and forget all about James Potter and his stupidly perfect jawline.

On the other side of town, James is on his fourth beer and absolutely thriving.

The four of them - Remus, Sirius, Peter, and him - are on a mission to taste-test every brewery in New York City. They’re nowhere close to accomplishing that goal yet, but they’ve made pretty decent headway and enjoyed acting like overblown beer snobs in the process.

“Ah yes,” Sirius comments, holding his drink out in front of him. “The hops in this brew are particularly pronounced.”

“There’s an earthy aftertaste to this one,” Remus adds, swirling his stout as if it’s a fancy glass of wine.

“And this one tastes like piss,” James replies, completely ruining the fake-classy theme Sirius and Remus had going with their commentary.

“Come on, guys!” Peter says earnestly. “Beer tastings are meant to be a serious affair!”

Sirius isn’t swayed at all. “They’re meant to get us drunk, Wormtail.”

James always wonders what other people must think of them when they hear the group of men calling each other by weird nicknames like Wormtail and Padfoot. In all honesty, James himself isn’t quite sure why the names have stuck as long as they have - they were originally inspired by the first major crimes each detective took down when they were all assigned to the newly-formed 73rd precinct, and they’ve lingered ever since.

Peter took down an organized crime ring from the inside - he was the rat, as the ringleader so eloquently called him in court. Hence, Wormtail.

“You sound like Fenwick,” James adds, before draining his glass.

“Nah,” Remus replies. “None of us are drinking pilsners. Ergo, couldn’t possible be Fenwick.”

They all laugh at that - Benjy Fenwick’s obsession with pilsners has definitely become a running joke throughout the office, despite the fact that the guy doesn’t even work there.

“You’re also nowhere near as much of a dick as Fenwick was,” James tacks on.

Sirius looks up from his phone. “Fenwick wasn’t actually that much of a dick. You just didn’t like him because he was fucking the love of your life.”

James crinkles his brows in disgust. “Fenwick is definitely not the love of my life.”

Admittedly, yeah, Fenwick isn’t ugly - he actually kind of resembles a guy James had gone on a couple dates with in college - but he has the all the personality of a loaf of white bread.

Ergo, very much not James’ type.

“You massively misinterpreted the usage of the word ‘fucking’ in that sentence,” Sirius corrects. “The love of your life is the person he was fucking.”

“Evans isn’t the love of my life either,” James replies defensively.

Well, not yet, at least. James could definitely see her becoming the love of his life though. He almost spilt his coffee all over himself the very first day she showed up at the precinct (he managed to contain the spill to one sleeve, in the end) because fuck, the detective he was supposed to be sharing a desk with shouldn’t have been that beautiful.

And then she opened her mouth and James started falling for her even more.

So yeah, at this point, he’s pretty hopelessly smitten.

And because he’s utter shit at hiding his feelings, all of his friends know it, most of the precinct knows it, and hell, Lily probably knows it too. Trying to argue to the contrary is a bit of a hopeless endeavour.

Remus looks at him skeptically. “Maybe not love of your life, but pretty damn close.”

James shrugs, picking up another one of the IPAs they’ve got on the table. “Doesn’t matter much though - she’s leaving the precinct in 10 days and I won’t have much reason to see her after that.”

When he first heard the news of her promotion, he’d secretly been kind of sad that he wouldn’t have an excuse to see Lily everyday anymore. But he also knows how important getting a promotion and moving up in the police department is to Lily, so he’d given her a bright smile and congratulated her anyways.

“Or, you could actually make a move sometime in those 10 days so that she actually wants to hang around with your dumb ass even after she leaves.”

James glares at Sirius.

“But you don’t have the guts for that, do you?” his best friend challenges.

“Pads...” Remus warns.

Padfoot, like the dog. Inspired by the major drug operation Sirius had sniffed out.

Sirius waves off his fiancé. “Prongs, you’re my brother, so I mean this in the nicest possible way, but you’re absolutely shit with people you’ve got a crush on, and Evans is no exception. You just make doe eyes at her from afar and that’s not going to get you anywhere.”

He’s obviously trying to get a rise out of James - giving him shit for all sorts of things that he knows James can’t stand being called out on - and maybe a more sober James would recognise that, and let Sirius have his fun without rising to the bait.

But that’s not the state that James is in right now.

“I am not shit with people I’ve got a crush on,” he argues. “I just happen to respect Evans’s boundaries because I don’t think it’s very professional to openly flirt with a coworker in the workplace.”

It’s not like the NYPD is known for its sexual harassment policies, so honestly, James probably wouldn’t get in any sort of trouble if he did decide to repeatedly ask her out on dates until she relented, but he’d never want to make her uncomfortable like that.

Hence, his (slightly pathetic) pining from afar.

“I’m not asking you to get a harassment complaint filed against yourself,” Sirius replies immediately. “In fact, I rather like Evans, so if you do manage to do something that warrants a harassment complaint or makes her uncomfortable, I’m formally obligated to kick your ass. But I’m just saying, this is your chance to shoot your shot before she’s no longer one desk away from you.”

Peter laughs. “Please. Prongs could never get Evans to fall for him in that period of time.”

Prongs could refer to the antlers on a stag - and James does love rocking a good pair of reindeer antlers from time to time - but the true derivation of that name was from James escaping and diffusing a hostage situation using nothing but an unloaded gun and a fork.

But damn. Hearing that insult from Peter stings - after all, the guy has had an even longer dry spell than James has. Really, he’s got no right to go around critiquing James’ wooing skills.

“Could too,” James replies childishly, only barely resisting the urge to stick his tongue out at his friend.

“Care to make an official bet on that?” Sirius asks, smirking. “I’ll take you up on that one - loser has to sit through one of Wormy’s cheese demonstrations.”

“Oh yes!” Peter claps his hands together delightedly, completely missing the point that this is a form of punishment for losing. “I’ve been needing more people to practice on!”

“I’m not making a bet on Evans,” James replies obstinately. “She’s a person, not a prize to be won.”

“Technically, you’re not betting on Evans,” Remus replies, serving as the voice of logic at the table. “You’re betting on your own abilities. If you win, you’ve managed to actually nail the partner of your dreams; if you lose, no one is any worse off than when you started. This is an entirely non-objectifying situation on all accounts.”

When Remus puts it like that, James has to admit that he’s got a pretty good point. And there’s no possible outcome to this that hurts anyone. Well, other than James himself if he fails, but honestly no more hurt than if he’d never even taken a chance with Lily to begin with.

He just has to… actually manage to charm the woman that’s shown absolutely no romantic interest in him up until this point.

Should be easy enough, he thinks to himself, and almost laughs aloud at his own internal sarcasm.

But he’ll also never turn down a bet - especially not when all his friends have been giving him so much shit all night. James Potter is a lot of things, but a coward is most definitely not one of them.

So he turns to Sirius, grinning wickedly. “You’re on. But two rules: you three can’t interfere at all, and no one tells Evans about it until it’s over.”

Sirius looks vaguely surprised. “You’re actually taking me up on this?”

“Come on, Pads, you know full well that I don’t back down from a challenge.”

James isn’t lying on that one. It’s gotten him into a fair share of sticky situations - most frequently with a particularly problematic cop in the Major Crimes Unit, who has basically made it his life’s goal to antagonise their whole precinct (but mostly James) on a regular basis.

“Plus,” James muses. “You’re right. I’ve got ten days until I’ll never see her again - if there’s ever a time to take a risk, it’s now.”

“You do realise she’s still going to be friends with all of us, and she’s only moving - ”

“Moony, hush,” Sirius waves a hand in front of Remus’ face, stopping him from finishing that sentence.

The way Remus earned that nickname - and the way he stopped a major car chase in progress - is still a story that none of the boys can get through without laughing.

“So we’ve got ourselves a bet, Prongs?” he continues, extending a hand out to James. “If Lily falls in love with you by the time she leaves the precinct, you win; if she wants nothing to do with you, I win.”

It feels like there’s a significant gap between ‘falling in love with him’ and ‘wanting nothing to do with him,’ but James doesn’t give that technicality too much thought. This is his dignity (and a cheese tasting with Peter) on the line.

So he takes Sirius’ hand, giving it a firm shake. “Let’s do this.”

Ten days from now, he’ll have made Lily fall for him, proving his romantic competence once and for all. His friends will inevitable find something else to give him shit for, but James will thoroughly enjoy his bragging rights.

Or alternatively, he’ll be sampling Peter’s homemade gouda, but James isn’t letting himself entertain that outcome right now.

[downn-in-flames]

ah i love this! here’s a little snippet of chapter 5 of 9.9 out of 10 (alternatively titled jily cop bet fic on pinterest and in my head)

“Be careful,” he warns, “he’s a little wary around - ”

He doesn’t really get to finish that thought, because his cat has already started nuzzling Lily’s leg as she leans over to pet him.

“Yes?” Lily says, as Godric flops over onto his side to demand further petting.

James grins, having finally regained enough feeling in his arm to prop himself up on his hands. “Never mind.”

Even his cat instantly likes her. What are the fucking odds.

“You are just the fluffiest little guy, aren’t you?” she coos. “James, he’s purring!”

James is actually positive that, if hearts were capable of exploding, his would be a fucking wasteland at this point. He can actually feel it in his chest, the sheer amount of affection he has watching her coddle his stupid cat that he loves more than most humans.

None of that is what he says out loud though. Instead, he chokes out a snarky, “Well, yes, cats occasionally do that.”

tagging @adorablycutenonsense and @drownout-thenoise

Work in Progress Wednesday

Creators: work on or post something from your WIP. This is your weekly reminder to get something down on paper (real or virtual). It’s also a chance to share your progress with your followers and give them a sneak peek of what’s to come!

Fans: leave a comment on an unfinished fic and let the writer know how much you love it. Reblog an artist’s sketch and let them know you can’t wait to see the final product. Send someone an ask cheering them on!