Numb3rs drabble: "Exhibit A" (Don/Coop pre-slash, PG)
Title: Exhibit A
Pairing: Don/Coop pre-slash
Rating: PG
Summary: There's someone breathing with him.
Word Count: 200
Spoilers: none
Notes/Warnings: Pre-series. Unbetaed. Written for melissima's challenge here.
Prompt: Uncertainty at numb3rs100 and this picture.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, nor do I profit from their use here. This is only for fun.
His fist hits the bag and the shock of the impact runs tingling up his arm, settling across his chest. Right, pound, left, pound, right. He moves with it, loosening up, relaxing into a rhythm, violent dance with a silent partner, till his shoulders burn and sweat drips down his neck. Final punch and he makes himself step back, stripping off his shirt as he sinks to his knees. He runs it over his face, catching the sweat there, and tosses it aside, bowing his head while he sits and breathes.
He watches his stomach rise and fall and he counts silently, slowing his breath and feeling his heart slow with it. It's quiet.
There's someone breathing with him.
He looks up and catches the kid staring from the doorway, wide eyes fixed on his chest for a moment before he catches on and looks up. He coughs, straightens, closes his face into a serious expression. It makes him older.
"I'm--I'm Don Eppes. I'm, uh, I'm your new partner?" He ends it like a question.
"Billy Cooper," Coop offers. His breath is still coming a little fast. They stare at each other another minute.
"Uh. Nice tats," Don says.
Pairing: Don/Coop pre-slash
Rating: PG
Summary: There's someone breathing with him.
Word Count: 200
Spoilers: none
Notes/Warnings: Pre-series. Unbetaed. Written for melissima's challenge here.
Prompt: Uncertainty at numb3rs100 and this picture.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, nor do I profit from their use here. This is only for fun.
His fist hits the bag and the shock of the impact runs tingling up his arm, settling across his chest. Right, pound, left, pound, right. He moves with it, loosening up, relaxing into a rhythm, violent dance with a silent partner, till his shoulders burn and sweat drips down his neck. Final punch and he makes himself step back, stripping off his shirt as he sinks to his knees. He runs it over his face, catching the sweat there, and tosses it aside, bowing his head while he sits and breathes.
He watches his stomach rise and fall and he counts silently, slowing his breath and feeling his heart slow with it. It's quiet.
There's someone breathing with him.
He looks up and catches the kid staring from the doorway, wide eyes fixed on his chest for a moment before he catches on and looks up. He coughs, straightens, closes his face into a serious expression. It makes him older.
"I'm--I'm Don Eppes. I'm, uh, I'm your new partner?" He ends it like a question.
"Billy Cooper," Coop offers. His breath is still coming a little fast. They stare at each other another minute.
"Uh. Nice tats," Don says.