Fic: You Should Always Ask for More
Title: You Should Always Ask for More
Characters/Pairings: Don/Coop
Prompt: S4 E9-Graphic, Present
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 853
Spoilers: Season 5
Notes: Thanks to sororcula & bubbleslayer for the betas and also helping me get through this.
Disclaimer: Only in my mind do I own these characters, my mind is a happy place! Join me.
Don muttered under his breath at the baseball game playing on the TV. “Twenty million dollars and he can’t hit a ball.”
Coop smirked, snaking his arm around and starting to knead the back of Don’s neck. “They don’t make ‘em like they used to,” he said, making Don smile slightly.
Don leaned back into Coop’s hand, enjoying the kneading sensation. He absentmindedly scratched at the bandage under his shirt and closed his eyes with a grimace.
“You feeling okay?”
“Yeah, fine,” Don replied. “Just feeling a bit stiff, pain is mostly gone."
Coop grunted.
Don looked over at Coop’s profile. It had been almost three weeks and Don was still processing the fact that Coop had dropped everything to be by his side after the attack. He'd opened his eyes one day at the hospital to see worried, strained eyes peering at him over a folded New York Times crossword puzzle. Now, sitting in his apartment, having Coop around, whether it be to watch a game, help him get around, or even having him mother him almost as badly as his Dad, was making Don hope it wouldn’t stop. “Eh, it’s time to take some meds.” Don started to slide off the couch.
“I’ll get them, sit your ass down,” Coop groused, moving quickly into the kitchen.
“I can get them myself, mother,” Don snapped, before settling back into the couch.
“Whatever.” Coop came back in with a glass of water and the pill bottle. He tossed the bottle at Don and waited for him to get a pill out.
Don popped the pill in his mouth and took the water from Coop. “Thanks.”
“Pftttt.”
Don shook his head at the almost pout on Coop’s lips as his former partner plopped back down in the seat next to Don.
The two men sat in silence watching the game 'till the top of the ninth inning when Billy's phone chimed he had a text. Don watched him look at the screen, frown, and then clear the screen and jam it back on his belt loop.
Don raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "Problem?"
"Boss wants to know when I'm signing back in."
"And?"
Coop didn't answer right away. "I don't know, man. This whole thing with you getting hurt is putting some things into perspective.”
Don ran a hand through his hair then looked at it for a second. "I know."
"I mean, it’s not like you haven’t gotten hurt before. Or me, for that matter.”
“Yeah, you remember the time we chased a suspect down that alley and you slipped on ice and bruised your ass?” Don said, grinning. “You had to sit on a donut cushion for a month!”
Coop countered, “If I remember correctly, you fell too, and had to get twelve stitches in the back of your head, plus a night in the hospital.”
“Heh,” Don snorted.
They lapsed into silence, Don’s thoughts simmering at the edge of being spoken. After the McDowd case Coop had walked back into Don’s life and since then they had kept up a more-than-friends-but-not-quite-together type of relationship. They'd seen each other maybe five or six times in the last year and a couple of times since Don had stopped seeing Liz Warner. There was no pressure, no rules, just an unsaid closeness.
It was only recently, over Christmas dinner, when Don had looked over at Coop talking to his Dad, that he realized he wanted it to go to the next level. But it wasn’t something he could bring up; they were guys, it wasn’t something they did. Or was it?
What did his Dad say to him about relationships a couple of years back?
“Donny, what's the worst that can happen? I'll tell you. The relationship fails, right? So then what? Then you're back where you are right now. But the only difference is, instead of being afraid, you took a chance."
“Coop.” Don cleared his throat. “What if I said I’ve been thinking some shit, you know, about you and me.”
“I’d say it better involve some lube and cuffs,” Coop joked.
Don glared in reply.
Still smirking, Coop said, “Come on, we can’t talk about our feelings. Last time I checked we weren’t chicks.”
“Well, you brought it up, asshole.”
Coop smirked again but the look fell off his face. “I did.”
"You know what, I'm just gonna say the things we won't say. I'm gonna tell you that I want more. I can only hope you want more too."
He turned his uncertain blue eyes to look back at Don. "You want more?"
"Yeah, I want more. I want you around more. Hell, I want you go to that stupid comic book thing, Charlie's been going on about."
Coop settled further back in the couch. "I'm not sure what you want me to say."
"How about you tell me what you want?" Don placed his hand on top of Coop's.
Don watched Coop look at their hands for a few seconds before replying. He turned his palm up to clasp Don's with a gentle squeeze and said, "Yeah, more's good."
Characters/Pairings: Don/Coop
Prompt: S4 E9-Graphic, Present
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 853
Spoilers: Season 5
Notes: Thanks to sororcula & bubbleslayer for the betas and also helping me get through this.
Disclaimer: Only in my mind do I own these characters, my mind is a happy place! Join me.
Don muttered under his breath at the baseball game playing on the TV. “Twenty million dollars and he can’t hit a ball.”
Coop smirked, snaking his arm around and starting to knead the back of Don’s neck. “They don’t make ‘em like they used to,” he said, making Don smile slightly.
Don leaned back into Coop’s hand, enjoying the kneading sensation. He absentmindedly scratched at the bandage under his shirt and closed his eyes with a grimace.
“You feeling okay?”
“Yeah, fine,” Don replied. “Just feeling a bit stiff, pain is mostly gone."
Coop grunted.
Don looked over at Coop’s profile. It had been almost three weeks and Don was still processing the fact that Coop had dropped everything to be by his side after the attack. He'd opened his eyes one day at the hospital to see worried, strained eyes peering at him over a folded New York Times crossword puzzle. Now, sitting in his apartment, having Coop around, whether it be to watch a game, help him get around, or even having him mother him almost as badly as his Dad, was making Don hope it wouldn’t stop. “Eh, it’s time to take some meds.” Don started to slide off the couch.
“I’ll get them, sit your ass down,” Coop groused, moving quickly into the kitchen.
“I can get them myself, mother,” Don snapped, before settling back into the couch.
“Whatever.” Coop came back in with a glass of water and the pill bottle. He tossed the bottle at Don and waited for him to get a pill out.
Don popped the pill in his mouth and took the water from Coop. “Thanks.”
“Pftttt.”
Don shook his head at the almost pout on Coop’s lips as his former partner plopped back down in the seat next to Don.
The two men sat in silence watching the game 'till the top of the ninth inning when Billy's phone chimed he had a text. Don watched him look at the screen, frown, and then clear the screen and jam it back on his belt loop.
Don raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "Problem?"
"Boss wants to know when I'm signing back in."
"And?"
Coop didn't answer right away. "I don't know, man. This whole thing with you getting hurt is putting some things into perspective.”
Don ran a hand through his hair then looked at it for a second. "I know."
"I mean, it’s not like you haven’t gotten hurt before. Or me, for that matter.”
“Yeah, you remember the time we chased a suspect down that alley and you slipped on ice and bruised your ass?” Don said, grinning. “You had to sit on a donut cushion for a month!”
Coop countered, “If I remember correctly, you fell too, and had to get twelve stitches in the back of your head, plus a night in the hospital.”
“Heh,” Don snorted.
They lapsed into silence, Don’s thoughts simmering at the edge of being spoken. After the McDowd case Coop had walked back into Don’s life and since then they had kept up a more-than-friends-but-not-quite-together type of relationship. They'd seen each other maybe five or six times in the last year and a couple of times since Don had stopped seeing Liz Warner. There was no pressure, no rules, just an unsaid closeness.
It was only recently, over Christmas dinner, when Don had looked over at Coop talking to his Dad, that he realized he wanted it to go to the next level. But it wasn’t something he could bring up; they were guys, it wasn’t something they did. Or was it?
What did his Dad say to him about relationships a couple of years back?
“Donny, what's the worst that can happen? I'll tell you. The relationship fails, right? So then what? Then you're back where you are right now. But the only difference is, instead of being afraid, you took a chance."
“Coop.” Don cleared his throat. “What if I said I’ve been thinking some shit, you know, about you and me.”
“I’d say it better involve some lube and cuffs,” Coop joked.
Don glared in reply.
Still smirking, Coop said, “Come on, we can’t talk about our feelings. Last time I checked we weren’t chicks.”
“Well, you brought it up, asshole.”
Coop smirked again but the look fell off his face. “I did.”
"You know what, I'm just gonna say the things we won't say. I'm gonna tell you that I want more. I can only hope you want more too."
He turned his uncertain blue eyes to look back at Don. "You want more?"
"Yeah, I want more. I want you around more. Hell, I want you go to that stupid comic book thing, Charlie's been going on about."
Coop settled further back in the couch. "I'm not sure what you want me to say."
"How about you tell me what you want?" Don placed his hand on top of Coop's.
Don watched Coop look at their hands for a few seconds before replying. He turned his palm up to clasp Don's with a gentle squeeze and said, "Yeah, more's good."