#after the debacle of closing with this certain bartender a few days ago

[slowdiscco]

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[belovedspector]

Double Jeopardy!

Pairing: Joel Miller x gn!reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: You met Joel at trivia night at a local bar. While watching old Jeopardy! reruns together, you realize Joel bears a striking resemblance to a certain game show host.

Content: No outbreak/modern AU. Fluff, use of pet names (darlin’), slightly insecure Joel

A/N: Just a silly little fic based on this silly little post I made. This got a little out of hand (it was literally just supposed to be one scene), but I had fun with it! Enjoy! :)

Masterlist

It’s been a hell of a week, and it’s only Tuesday. After a disastrous work day full of dumbasses and delays, Tommy insists on going to the bar, and it doesn’t take much convincing at all before Joel agrees.

The bar is crowded for the middle of the week, Joel thinks. Groups of people are gathered around nearly all the tables, and the stage is illuminated.

“Music tonight?” Joel asks the bartender after flagging her down.

“Trivia night,” she says, handing Joel and Tommy their beers.

The brothers manage to snag two bar stools next to one another, chatty idly about everything other than work.

After a few minutes, a man gets up on stage, and the game begins.

Joel has never been much for trivia. He’s not dumb by any means, but he’s also not one of those people who can name all the presidents in alphabetical order, or whatever. Still, he finds himself captivated by the game before him, watching just as intently as he would any football game.

You draw his attention early on, even from across the room. You’re the spokesperson for your team, and Joel can tell you know your stuff. It also doesn’t hurt that you’re easy on the eyes, even in your simple t-shirt and jeans. As Joel watches the game unfold, he can’t help but silently root for your team, and he’s pleased to see you and your teammates take home the (plastic) trophy.

You’re beaming as you head over to the bar for a refill, serendipitously ending up on Joel’s end of the bar.

Tommy elbows Joel in the ribs. Joel glares at him, but Tommy just gives him a look and gets up from his stool, wandering away to God knows where.

Joel clears his throat after you’ve ordered your drink. “You’re awful good at that,” he compliments.

You feel heat rushing to your cheeks, and you smile despite yourself. “I watch a lot of Jeopardy!” you say by way of explanation.

Joel considers this. He hasn’t thought about that show in years, didn’t even know it was still airing. “That Trebek guy still hosting?”

“Oh, no.” You shake your head with a slight frown. “He died, like, three years ago.”

You look almost sad about it, Joel thinks. He almost wants to apologize for your loss, but realizes how ridiculous that would sound. Instead, he asks, “Who’s hosting now, then?”

“Ken Jennings,” you answer, perking up again.

“Ken Jennings,” Joel repeats. “That sounds familiar.”

“Yeah, he had a seventy-four game winning streak in”—your eyes turn up towards the ceiling in thought and you scrunch your nose up in a way that Joel thinks is adorable—”2003, I think?”

“Ah, must’a heard about it on the news back then,” he says with a nod.

You nod alongside him. “Yeah, he does a really good job.” You pause to take a sip of your drink. “God, and don’t even get me started on the hosting debacle that happened after Alex’ death.”

Joel has no idea what you’re talking about, but he chuckles anyway. It’s been a while since he’s talked to anyone like this. Is this what flirting is like nowadays? Well, he supposes, it’s working on him—you’ve got him completely enamored with you and your little game show facts.

You and Joel end up closing down the bar together. It’s just the two of you and one slightly disgruntled bartender who has been dutifully cleaning all the tables around you. To be perfectly honest, Joel has no idea when Tommy had gone home; he’s been so wrapped up in you the whole night. Tommy will definitely give him shit about it the next time he sees him.

You had, in fact, gotten started on the Jeopardy! hosting drama at some point. There are a lot of names thrown around that Joel doesn’t recognize, but you’re so damn enthusiastic that he doesn’t have the heart to stop you.

Eventually, the discussion turns away from game shows. You talk to each other about everything and nothing, the conversation flowing as freely as the drinks.

All good things must come to an end, though.

“Alright, I’ve gotta close up now,” the bartender announces.

After a playful squabble over who will pay the tab (which Joel ends up covering), you reluctantly make your way out of the bar, the neon “open” sign going dark behind you.

Joel, being the gentleman that he is, offers to walk you home. You pick up right where you had left off at the bar, but, all too soon, you’ve reached your place.

“I had a really good time tonight,” you say with a smile, twirling your keys around your index finger.

“Yeah, me, too,” Joel agrees. “I don’t want to be too forward, and there’s no obligation, but is there any chance I can get your number?”

You beam at him. “I thought you’d never ask. Gimme your phone.”

Joel complies and watches as you add in your contact info and send a text to yourself.

He returns his phone to his pocket and says, “I might be pushing my luck here, but any chance you’d wanna go out to dinner one night?”

You smile again and nod enthusiastically. “I’d love that.”

“Alright,” Joel says, smiling back. “I’ll be in touch.”

He’s feeling bold. The alcohol is still coursing through his veins, giving him the push he needs to lean forward and kiss you on the cheek. He hopes he’s not imagining the way he feels your skin warm under his lips.

You giggle—an honest-to-God giggle. You’re going to be the death of him. “Good night, Joel,” you say.

“Good night, darlin’,” he returns, making sure you’re safely inside before heading back home, grinning like an idiot the whole way.

You go out to dinner that Friday.

“I’m missing Jeopardy! over this, you know,” you tell him while you scan the menu.

“Well, I’m honored,” Joel says with a laugh.

“I think it’ll be worth it,” you say with a broad smile.

Friday dinners become your thing. You usually meet at a restaurant, but, a few weeks in, Joel has an idea: he invites you over for takeout and Jeopardy! You seem thrilled at the prospect.

And so, he finds himself sitting next to you on the couch, a pizza box open on the coffee table in front of you. He’s got the TV tuned in to the right station, and it’s just a matter of minutes before the show will begin.

Just like on that trivia night, Joel finds himself totally wrapped up in the fast-paced game. He quickly learns that you like to shout out the answers, and he joins in when he can. It’s the most fun he’s had in a long time.

All too soon, it seems, half an hour has gone by, and the credits are rolling. Joel clicks the power button on the remote. The TV screen goes dark, and the living room falls silent.

“So?” you prompt. “What do you think of Ken?”

“Jennings ain’t bad,” Joel admits, “but he’s no Alex Trebek, that’s for sure.”

That Tuesday, you invite Joel to trivia night. You fall into an easy routine: trivia on Tuesdays, Jeopardy! on Fridays, date nights every other weekend. For the first time in a long time, Joel feels content.

“They have old episodes that you can stream, you know,” you say one night after the show ends.

It’s been a couple of months, and things are going quite well, if Joel does say so himself. You’ve met Tommy and Sarah, and they’ve both given their stamp of approval.

“That so?” Joel asks, tightening the arm he has around your shoulder.

“Yeah. I can set it up, if you’re not all Jeopardy!’d out for the night.”

“Pfft, never,” he says.

You grin, grabbing the remote and navigating to Pluto, picking an episode at random. A younger, mustachioed Alex Trebek fills the screen.

As the episode plays, you’re still answering clues like normal, but you also keep sneaking glances at Joel throughout the game.

Finally, during the Double Jeopardy round, he pauses the show. “Okay, what is it?”

“What do you mean?” you ask a little sheepishly.

“Why do you keep looking at me?” He runs a hand across the scruff on his cheek. “Do I have something on my face?”

You laugh. “No, nothing like that. It’s just…” You hesitate.

“Yeah?” he urges.

You cut your eyes between Alex on screen and Joel on the couch. “You look kinda like Alex Trebek,” you blurt out.

Joel is stunned into silence for a moment. He studies the man on the TV, with his graying hair and mustache. He’s not a bad looking man, but—

“Are you sure?” he asks. He feels almost shy all of a sudden. He knows he’s getting older; his hair is more gray than brown, and the lines on his face have gotten deeper. But, still, does that mean he’s old? Getting compared to an old, now-dead game show host has brought all of his anxieties about aging to the front of his mind.

You nod. “Positive,” you say, pulling him out of his thoughts before they can spiral any further. You grin. “I’ve always had a thing for him, you know.”

“W—Who?” Joel stutters, not sure he’s heard you right.

“Alex Trebek,” you clarify, your grin widening.

Joel hums. “That so, darlin’?” he asks mildly, but he’s not quite able to keep the smirk off his face. “What do you think—should I get rid of the beard, just keep the mustache?”

You slap his shoulder lightly. “Shut up,” you mutter. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”

He breaks out into a wide grin and leans in to steal a kiss. “You know I’m kidding, darlin’.” He looks to the TV screen again, and then he turns back to you, eyes softening. “I could do a lot worse than Trebek, I s’pose.”

“It’s a compliment!” you insist.

“I know, I know,” he says, kissing you again. “God, I love you.”

The words slip out without him even realizing. It’s not until he sees your eyes widen a little that he comprehends the weight of what he’s just said. Fuck. He’s gone and fucked this whole thing up, hasn’t he? Can he…take it back? But he doesn’t want to. It’s true, he realizes—he really does love you.

“I love you, too,” you say breathlessly, wrapping your arms around him tightly.

Joel breathes a sigh of relief as he hugs you. He takes another glance at the TV from over your shoulder, where the still image of Alex Trebek stares back at him. Joel must be imagining it, but…it almost looks like Trebek is winking at him.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please feel free to let me know what you think! :)