Numb3rs fic: "One Thing In Common" (Don/Coop, Coop/OFC, NC-17)
Title: One Thing In Common
Pairing: Don/Coop, Coop/OFC
Rating: NC-17
Summary: In spite of everything, Coop's surprised when it finally happens.
Word Count: 740
Spoilers: Man Hunt, I suppose. :-)
Prompt: "Deja vu" for Team Angst at numb3rswriteoff.
Notes/Warnings: Pre-series. Unbetaed. Title from Life In The Fast Lane by The Eagles. Angsty. :-(
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, nor do I profit from their use here. This is only for fun.
This fic was written for the Angst vs Schmoop Challenge at numb3rswriteoff. After you’ve read the fic, please rate it by voting in the poll located here. (Your vote will be anonymous.) Rate the fic on a scale of 1 - 10 (10 being the best) using the following criteria: how well the fic fit the prompt, how angsty the fic was, and how well you enjoyed the fic. When you’re done, please check out the other challenge fic at numb3rswriteoff. Thank you!
Everything's different. Lately even Coop calls his folks more than Don does, and his momma barely talks to him ever since he decided not to go into the priesthood. Don's bright smiles have gone tight, strained. He's on edge while they're driving and then distracted when they're in the field, barely paying attention to what he's doing. He almost gets himself shot one day in Missouri and sits there in the motel desk chair while Coop just lets him have it, yelling at him for not moving his ass sooner once he saw the gun. He listens, says nothing, and when Coop finishes, out of words, he pulls him down into his lap and kisses him breathless.
It's desperate, rough, when they fuck. Don presses him down hard, so he has to turn his head on the pillow to breathe, and thrusts into him deep enough to make him wince, pull away. There's nowhere to go, trapped firmly between the mattress and Don's body covering his, Don's fingers tight on his wrists, pinning his arms over his head. For a second he forgets to breathe, panics, but then Don shoves his hand under Coop, scratches against his belly as his fingers make their way down to wrap around Coop's dick. With a few sharp strokes he's groaning, pushing back, baring his neck for the sting of Don's teeth, and a twist later he comes hard over the sheets and Don's hand.
In spite of everything, Coop's surprised when it finally happens. He wakes up to see Don rifling through his duffel bag, pulling out shirts and sorting them.
"Doin' my laundry, sweetheart?" he mumbles, turning over and yanking the covers up. It's October, just starting to get cold. He wishes Don would get back in bed.
Don doesn't say anything, but he pauses, looks at Coop for a long moment. There's something wrong here, so Coop sits up, blinks his eyes open the rest of the way. Don's trying to hide it but his poker face has never worked on Coop, and he sees the upset and sad and angry behind the stony expression.
"What?" Coop asks, voice raspy with sleep and fear.
"I'm leaving," Don tells him finally, a gut punch even though he should've known.
He gets the week off because Don's replacement gets suspended for punching his boss. Coop can't wait to meet this guy. He lies around the motel room feeling sorry for himself for a day or two, then goes out and finds a bar playing smokey blues songs that depress him just as much as being alone.
A woman sits down next to him, flirting like mad. She's not gorgeous, thick makeup and too-tight clothes, but she's nice and he's a little drunk so he brings her back to his room, fucks her on sheets that still smell like Don. When her mouth closes around him, he tilts his head back, closes his eyes, and for a split second it's Don, until she shimmies up his body, all soft curves against his skin. She turns them over so he's on top, begs him to take her, and he slips his fingers inside her, watches her squirm under him as he moves them.
She tries to stick her finger in his ass while he fucks her, and he grabs her wrist hard, hurts her a little with it, but he kisses her lightly, mutters an apology, and presses her hand against the sheets so she can't touch him.
He can't quite get used to driving with an empty seat next to him again, nobody there to laugh at his stupid jokes or harmonize on Eagles songs with. He keeps ordering two cups of coffee accidentally, Don's two sugars automatic on his tongue before he can remember and correct himself.
Finally Agent Ryans joins him, and he's exactly the annoying bastard Coop thought he'd be, crappy taste in everything that he tries to force onto Coop. Coop kind of wants to kill him. They don't move in sync the way he's used to, Ryans always five inches the wrong direction, the discomfort, wrongness of it itching at Coop, the way he has to think before he moves now.
At night, with his new partner snoring in the next bed, Coop closes his eyes and thinks about driving southwest.
Pairing: Don/Coop, Coop/OFC
Rating: NC-17
Summary: In spite of everything, Coop's surprised when it finally happens.
Word Count: 740
Spoilers: Man Hunt, I suppose. :-)
Prompt: "Deja vu" for Team Angst at numb3rswriteoff.
Notes/Warnings: Pre-series. Unbetaed. Title from Life In The Fast Lane by The Eagles. Angsty. :-(
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, nor do I profit from their use here. This is only for fun.
This fic was written for the Angst vs Schmoop Challenge at numb3rswriteoff. After you’ve read the fic, please rate it by voting in the poll located here. (Your vote will be anonymous.) Rate the fic on a scale of 1 - 10 (10 being the best) using the following criteria: how well the fic fit the prompt, how angsty the fic was, and how well you enjoyed the fic. When you’re done, please check out the other challenge fic at numb3rswriteoff. Thank you!
Everything's different. Lately even Coop calls his folks more than Don does, and his momma barely talks to him ever since he decided not to go into the priesthood. Don's bright smiles have gone tight, strained. He's on edge while they're driving and then distracted when they're in the field, barely paying attention to what he's doing. He almost gets himself shot one day in Missouri and sits there in the motel desk chair while Coop just lets him have it, yelling at him for not moving his ass sooner once he saw the gun. He listens, says nothing, and when Coop finishes, out of words, he pulls him down into his lap and kisses him breathless.
It's desperate, rough, when they fuck. Don presses him down hard, so he has to turn his head on the pillow to breathe, and thrusts into him deep enough to make him wince, pull away. There's nowhere to go, trapped firmly between the mattress and Don's body covering his, Don's fingers tight on his wrists, pinning his arms over his head. For a second he forgets to breathe, panics, but then Don shoves his hand under Coop, scratches against his belly as his fingers make their way down to wrap around Coop's dick. With a few sharp strokes he's groaning, pushing back, baring his neck for the sting of Don's teeth, and a twist later he comes hard over the sheets and Don's hand.
In spite of everything, Coop's surprised when it finally happens. He wakes up to see Don rifling through his duffel bag, pulling out shirts and sorting them.
"Doin' my laundry, sweetheart?" he mumbles, turning over and yanking the covers up. It's October, just starting to get cold. He wishes Don would get back in bed.
Don doesn't say anything, but he pauses, looks at Coop for a long moment. There's something wrong here, so Coop sits up, blinks his eyes open the rest of the way. Don's trying to hide it but his poker face has never worked on Coop, and he sees the upset and sad and angry behind the stony expression.
"What?" Coop asks, voice raspy with sleep and fear.
"I'm leaving," Don tells him finally, a gut punch even though he should've known.
He gets the week off because Don's replacement gets suspended for punching his boss. Coop can't wait to meet this guy. He lies around the motel room feeling sorry for himself for a day or two, then goes out and finds a bar playing smokey blues songs that depress him just as much as being alone.
A woman sits down next to him, flirting like mad. She's not gorgeous, thick makeup and too-tight clothes, but she's nice and he's a little drunk so he brings her back to his room, fucks her on sheets that still smell like Don. When her mouth closes around him, he tilts his head back, closes his eyes, and for a split second it's Don, until she shimmies up his body, all soft curves against his skin. She turns them over so he's on top, begs him to take her, and he slips his fingers inside her, watches her squirm under him as he moves them.
She tries to stick her finger in his ass while he fucks her, and he grabs her wrist hard, hurts her a little with it, but he kisses her lightly, mutters an apology, and presses her hand against the sheets so she can't touch him.
He can't quite get used to driving with an empty seat next to him again, nobody there to laugh at his stupid jokes or harmonize on Eagles songs with. He keeps ordering two cups of coffee accidentally, Don's two sugars automatic on his tongue before he can remember and correct himself.
Finally Agent Ryans joins him, and he's exactly the annoying bastard Coop thought he'd be, crappy taste in everything that he tries to force onto Coop. Coop kind of wants to kill him. They don't move in sync the way he's used to, Ryans always five inches the wrong direction, the discomfort, wrongness of it itching at Coop, the way he has to think before he moves now.
At night, with his new partner snoring in the next bed, Coop closes his eyes and thinks about driving southwest.