This Is The Place Where Everything's Better and Everything's Safe (1/1)
Title: This Is The Place Where Everything's Better and Everything's Safe (1/1)
Fandom: Private Practice
Pairing: Charlotte/Cooper
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: Through 2x18 (Finishing)
Summary: A totally fluffy fluffball of a Charlotte/Cooper fic, because there just aren't enough of those out there. Set post-Archer, pre-finale.
“What does that even mean?” Charlotte sneered, and Cooper glanced up from his laptop to take in the look of disgust on her face. It was a look he knew well, and provided it wasn’t directed at him (which it wasn’t at the moment), he had to admit that he liked it. A lot.
They were having one of those nights, one of those good nights that they’d been having now that she seemed to have come to terms with her... indiscretion, and his living situation with Violet. They were at her place, lonely-housewife-and-dishwasher-repairman sex plans botched by the early arrival of her period. He’d wanted to stay regardless, and she hadn’t protested, so now here they were: together in bed, Cooper browsing the internet, Charlotte with her nose in a trashy romance novel.
It was domestic. It was normal. And it was so far from where they’d been for the past few months that Cooper wanted to savor every blissfully dull minute of it.
“What does what mean?” he asked, wondering again why he found the look of condescension on her face oddly sexy. Maybe it was because he found everything about her oddly sexy. Maybe it was because they weren’t having any sex.
“This sentence. I -- the way these people write sex is ridiculous,” she announced, huffing slightly and shaking her head. “I mean, come on.” Her voice shifted, becoming mockingly husky and porn-starry. “‘They moved together that most ancient of rhythms, his throbbing member stabbing into her maiden core, filling her with ripples of ecstatic pleasure.’ It sounds idiotic. And that is such crap. I remember the first time I had sex, and there were no ripples of ecstasy. More like winces of discomfort and dashed expectations.”
Cooper couldn’t help but chuckle, reaching to settle the laptop on the floor, then levering back up and turning onto his side so he could press his lips to her shoulder. “Bad experience?”
Her shrug nearly knocked him in the nose, but she either didn’t notice, or didn’t care. “Not bad. Not great. Typical first time. Fumbling, and awkward, with a boy who couldn’t have found my girly parts with a map and a flashlight.” She smirked, tossed the book aside, not bothering to mark her page. “You?”
“Fumbling and awkward,” he agreed, sliding a hand across her torso, pleased when she scooted down and shifted to face him. “Luckily for her, I already knew I wanted to be a doctor, so I’d paid above average attention in biology. I knew all about the good parts.”
“Mm.” She fiddled with the edge of his sleeve, coasted her palm down to his elbow before letting her arm drape over his ribs. “Luckily for her, indeed.”
Cooper just smiled, and took advantage of her close proximity to study her eyes, the way the iris was ringed just a little darker around the edge. If her body hadn’t conspired against them, those eyes would be bright and fierce right now, pinning him to the kitchen floor just as easily as the hands she’d have planted on his shoulders. She’d been big on eye contact during sex lately, the last few weeks, and he couldn’t say he minded. Watching the way her eyes went wild and blind as she shook and moaned how good it felt was fast becoming one of his favorite parts of sex with Charlotte. Sex that we are currently not having, he reminded himself, forcing his focus elsewhere.
Like the slope of her nose, the rise of her cheekbone, the curve of that lower lip just begging to be kissed… Okay, that probably wasn’t a helpful angle to go down if he didn’t want to fixate on their current forced celibacy. Besides, he needed to stop staring. She was beginning to squirm, those eyes going guarded and doubtful as her brows drew together slightly.
“What, Freedman?”
“Oh, we’re using last names now?” he questioned with a playful smirk.
“M-hmm,” she replied tersely, but he could see the hint of a smile on her lips.
“Well, Doctor King.” He tightened his arm around her waist, pulled her flush against him and grinned teasingly. “If you must know…” He stole a quick kiss from her lips. “I was admiring your beauty.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes, just like he knew she would, and he fell for her all over again. “Yeah, right. I’m sure you were, sweet talker.”
“I was,” he insisted, genuinely this time. “Sometimes I look at you, Charlotte, and it’s like my breath stops. I can’t get enough of the sight of you.”
She rolled her eyes again, but there was no heat in it, and he could tell from the pleased smile on her face that the compliment had hit home. “Now you sound like one of my cheesy romance novels.” Her hand came up between them, pushing him away and shifting slightly. “Layin’ that close is makin’ me cross-eyed.”
“We should get some sleep anyway,” he dismissed, letting her pull away and lock herself back up into that neat Charlotte King exterior. She’d been noticeably better about opening up lately, but she still took her moments now and then. “I have an early day tomorrow.”
He reached to turn the bedside light off, the room plunging into darkness in time with her “don’t we all.” He could hear the rustle of sheets, feel the water-smooth tug of satin shifting over skin, and then he felt her hand wrap around his wrist and stay there. She wasn’t really a snuggler (which was a shame, because he was), but she liked contact. Within reason. A hand on his stomach, the length of her calf crossed over his, the occasional hand-hold (only in the dark, because hand-holding was silly past the age of twelve if you let it be seen in the light of day).
“Cooper?” she asked quietly a moment later, and he wondered how a voice capable of such abrasiveness during the daylight could sound so soft in the dark.
“Hmm?”
“I don’t mind all that much when you sound like the romance novels,” she admitted, and Cooper grinned, shifted under her grip until he could grasp her wrist and tug her arm across him. She grunted and wrestled it free, swatting at his chest. “Alright, alright. Don’t let it go to your head.”
One of her legs slid between his, her toes brushing down his calf as he chuckled at her. He felt her nose brush his shoulder, warmth blooming along his sleeve as she exhaled and let her arm drop across him again. “I’ll do my best.”
“Mmhmm,” she drawled, sounding doubtful and sleepy.
“I mean it,” he laughed, shifting the arm nestled between them until his palm rested on her thigh. A scoffed puff of air tickled all the way down to his elbow before she muttered a goodnight and fell silent. Cooper lay awake next to her, fingers of his other hand tracing her arm from wrist to elbow, elbow to wrist in feather-light passes until he felt her limbs go sleep-heavy on top of him.
Nights like this were good. They were progress. They were proof that even after all they’d been through this year, they might still be okay someday. They would be okay. In fact, they’d be better than okay. And he wasn’t going to give up on them until they were.
Fandom: Private Practice
Pairing: Charlotte/Cooper
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: Through 2x18 (Finishing)
Summary: A totally fluffy fluffball of a Charlotte/Cooper fic, because there just aren't enough of those out there. Set post-Archer, pre-finale.
“What does that even mean?” Charlotte sneered, and Cooper glanced up from his laptop to take in the look of disgust on her face. It was a look he knew well, and provided it wasn’t directed at him (which it wasn’t at the moment), he had to admit that he liked it. A lot.
They were having one of those nights, one of those good nights that they’d been having now that she seemed to have come to terms with her... indiscretion, and his living situation with Violet. They were at her place, lonely-housewife-and-dishwasher-repairman sex plans botched by the early arrival of her period. He’d wanted to stay regardless, and she hadn’t protested, so now here they were: together in bed, Cooper browsing the internet, Charlotte with her nose in a trashy romance novel.
It was domestic. It was normal. And it was so far from where they’d been for the past few months that Cooper wanted to savor every blissfully dull minute of it.
“What does what mean?” he asked, wondering again why he found the look of condescension on her face oddly sexy. Maybe it was because he found everything about her oddly sexy. Maybe it was because they weren’t having any sex.
“This sentence. I -- the way these people write sex is ridiculous,” she announced, huffing slightly and shaking her head. “I mean, come on.” Her voice shifted, becoming mockingly husky and porn-starry. “‘They moved together that most ancient of rhythms, his throbbing member stabbing into her maiden core, filling her with ripples of ecstatic pleasure.’ It sounds idiotic. And that is such crap. I remember the first time I had sex, and there were no ripples of ecstasy. More like winces of discomfort and dashed expectations.”
Cooper couldn’t help but chuckle, reaching to settle the laptop on the floor, then levering back up and turning onto his side so he could press his lips to her shoulder. “Bad experience?”
Her shrug nearly knocked him in the nose, but she either didn’t notice, or didn’t care. “Not bad. Not great. Typical first time. Fumbling, and awkward, with a boy who couldn’t have found my girly parts with a map and a flashlight.” She smirked, tossed the book aside, not bothering to mark her page. “You?”
“Fumbling and awkward,” he agreed, sliding a hand across her torso, pleased when she scooted down and shifted to face him. “Luckily for her, I already knew I wanted to be a doctor, so I’d paid above average attention in biology. I knew all about the good parts.”
“Mm.” She fiddled with the edge of his sleeve, coasted her palm down to his elbow before letting her arm drape over his ribs. “Luckily for her, indeed.”
Cooper just smiled, and took advantage of her close proximity to study her eyes, the way the iris was ringed just a little darker around the edge. If her body hadn’t conspired against them, those eyes would be bright and fierce right now, pinning him to the kitchen floor just as easily as the hands she’d have planted on his shoulders. She’d been big on eye contact during sex lately, the last few weeks, and he couldn’t say he minded. Watching the way her eyes went wild and blind as she shook and moaned how good it felt was fast becoming one of his favorite parts of sex with Charlotte. Sex that we are currently not having, he reminded himself, forcing his focus elsewhere.
Like the slope of her nose, the rise of her cheekbone, the curve of that lower lip just begging to be kissed… Okay, that probably wasn’t a helpful angle to go down if he didn’t want to fixate on their current forced celibacy. Besides, he needed to stop staring. She was beginning to squirm, those eyes going guarded and doubtful as her brows drew together slightly.
“What, Freedman?”
“Oh, we’re using last names now?” he questioned with a playful smirk.
“M-hmm,” she replied tersely, but he could see the hint of a smile on her lips.
“Well, Doctor King.” He tightened his arm around her waist, pulled her flush against him and grinned teasingly. “If you must know…” He stole a quick kiss from her lips. “I was admiring your beauty.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes, just like he knew she would, and he fell for her all over again. “Yeah, right. I’m sure you were, sweet talker.”
“I was,” he insisted, genuinely this time. “Sometimes I look at you, Charlotte, and it’s like my breath stops. I can’t get enough of the sight of you.”
She rolled her eyes again, but there was no heat in it, and he could tell from the pleased smile on her face that the compliment had hit home. “Now you sound like one of my cheesy romance novels.” Her hand came up between them, pushing him away and shifting slightly. “Layin’ that close is makin’ me cross-eyed.”
“We should get some sleep anyway,” he dismissed, letting her pull away and lock herself back up into that neat Charlotte King exterior. She’d been noticeably better about opening up lately, but she still took her moments now and then. “I have an early day tomorrow.”
He reached to turn the bedside light off, the room plunging into darkness in time with her “don’t we all.” He could hear the rustle of sheets, feel the water-smooth tug of satin shifting over skin, and then he felt her hand wrap around his wrist and stay there. She wasn’t really a snuggler (which was a shame, because he was), but she liked contact. Within reason. A hand on his stomach, the length of her calf crossed over his, the occasional hand-hold (only in the dark, because hand-holding was silly past the age of twelve if you let it be seen in the light of day).
“Cooper?” she asked quietly a moment later, and he wondered how a voice capable of such abrasiveness during the daylight could sound so soft in the dark.
“Hmm?”
“I don’t mind all that much when you sound like the romance novels,” she admitted, and Cooper grinned, shifted under her grip until he could grasp her wrist and tug her arm across him. She grunted and wrestled it free, swatting at his chest. “Alright, alright. Don’t let it go to your head.”
One of her legs slid between his, her toes brushing down his calf as he chuckled at her. He felt her nose brush his shoulder, warmth blooming along his sleeve as she exhaled and let her arm drop across him again. “I’ll do my best.”
“Mmhmm,” she drawled, sounding doubtful and sleepy.
“I mean it,” he laughed, shifting the arm nestled between them until his palm rested on her thigh. A scoffed puff of air tickled all the way down to his elbow before she muttered a goodnight and fell silent. Cooper lay awake next to her, fingers of his other hand tracing her arm from wrist to elbow, elbow to wrist in feather-light passes until he felt her limbs go sleep-heavy on top of him.
Nights like this were good. They were progress. They were proof that even after all they’d been through this year, they might still be okay someday. They would be okay. In fact, they’d be better than okay. And he wasn’t going to give up on them until they were.