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numb3rsflashficTitle: Let is Spin
Pairing/Characters: Don Eppes/Billy Cooper
Rating/Category: PG-15 for kissing and alcohol
Word Count: 621
Spoilers: None
Summary: He’s in middle school again as he gives the bottle a quick twist with his wrist.
Notes/Warnings: Challenge #2, convergence
Four consecutive shots of whisky and Coop's head is swimming. He doesn’t want to pussy out and slugs a fifth, matching Don’s number. His partner is leaning against the wall, the whisky bottle tucked between his thighs. Coop’s sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him, a slow smile spreading across his face. He thinks he may have said something funny because Don’s lolling his head along the wall, laughing and bouncing his leg. Coop reaches for the Jack and takes a pull, heat and fire trailing down his throat. He screws on the cap and twirls the cool glass between his fingers before letting it tip over onto its side. The amber liquid sloshes audibly before leveling out.
Don’s stacking the shot glasses into a tower, four five six glasses high before Coop grabs the half-empty bottle and spins it into the teetering pile. There’s a sharp tinkling sound as it collapses, then an angry sound from Don. Coop’s sputtering through his laughter about how half-assed his construction job was anyway. Don rolls his eyes and drags his finger along the neck of the bottle, turning it idly until it faces his partner. There’s only the swish-slosh of booze, then the distance between them closes. There is a heavy press of Don’s lips against the corner of Coop’s. It’s over when Don pulls away a little too quickly, almost slamming his head against the wall. The bottle is opened and a mouthful is sucked down, Don’s Adam’s apple bobbing with the swallow. Coop can feel his body getting warmer as his mind and body process what happened. The bottle is back on the floor, but Coop wants it on the side and tips it over.
He’s in middle school again as he gives the bottle a quick twist with his wrist. It doesn’t matter where it ends up because he’s pressing his mouth against Don’s dry lips. It’s awkward as most first kisses are, but Coop doesn’t really care. He doesn’t care that Don’s pointy nose is pushing into his or that he’s in danger of collapsing onto the bottle. All his focus is on Don and this moment.
He parts his mouth slightly as Don tilts his head to the right. There’s a dart of Don’s tongue, soft and wet as it slides into his mouth and brushes his. Coop opens his eyes and Don comes into focus. His eyes are moving under closed lids and his lashes are knitted together. A rosy pink flush has covered his skin, from the whisky and how they are moving their lips and tongues. Don’s languidly exploring Coop’s mouth with his tongue, running the tip over the slippery bumps of his teeth.
He wants to be more insistent and push Don onto the floor and rub against him. He shoves this desire down because he doesn’t feel like breaking Don’s concentration. He doesn’t want to lose this. He softens his mouth to let it become plastic under Don’s, allowing him to be receptive as Don takes the lead. He’s completely occupied with the feeling the feeling of long fingers curving along his jaw and stroking up towards his ear. Coop is involved with how Don smells, just like whisky, soap, and aftershave. He shivers slightly when he realizes that he smells like Don, and a small murmur buzzes in his throat.
Lashes part drowsily. Coop could feel and see him smile, crinkles forming in the corners of his eyes. He sucked on Coop’s lower lip, teasing it with his teeth before slipping away. The smile is still playing on his face as he leans back on his elbows, dropping his head back.
Coop reaches out and lets the bottle spin.
Pairing/Characters: Don Eppes/Billy Cooper
Rating/Category: PG-15 for kissing and alcohol
Word Count: 621
Spoilers: None
Summary: He’s in middle school again as he gives the bottle a quick twist with his wrist.
Notes/Warnings: Challenge #2, convergence
Four consecutive shots of whisky and Coop's head is swimming. He doesn’t want to pussy out and slugs a fifth, matching Don’s number. His partner is leaning against the wall, the whisky bottle tucked between his thighs. Coop’s sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him, a slow smile spreading across his face. He thinks he may have said something funny because Don’s lolling his head along the wall, laughing and bouncing his leg. Coop reaches for the Jack and takes a pull, heat and fire trailing down his throat. He screws on the cap and twirls the cool glass between his fingers before letting it tip over onto its side. The amber liquid sloshes audibly before leveling out.
Don’s stacking the shot glasses into a tower, four five six glasses high before Coop grabs the half-empty bottle and spins it into the teetering pile. There’s a sharp tinkling sound as it collapses, then an angry sound from Don. Coop’s sputtering through his laughter about how half-assed his construction job was anyway. Don rolls his eyes and drags his finger along the neck of the bottle, turning it idly until it faces his partner. There’s only the swish-slosh of booze, then the distance between them closes. There is a heavy press of Don’s lips against the corner of Coop’s. It’s over when Don pulls away a little too quickly, almost slamming his head against the wall. The bottle is opened and a mouthful is sucked down, Don’s Adam’s apple bobbing with the swallow. Coop can feel his body getting warmer as his mind and body process what happened. The bottle is back on the floor, but Coop wants it on the side and tips it over.
He’s in middle school again as he gives the bottle a quick twist with his wrist. It doesn’t matter where it ends up because he’s pressing his mouth against Don’s dry lips. It’s awkward as most first kisses are, but Coop doesn’t really care. He doesn’t care that Don’s pointy nose is pushing into his or that he’s in danger of collapsing onto the bottle. All his focus is on Don and this moment.
He parts his mouth slightly as Don tilts his head to the right. There’s a dart of Don’s tongue, soft and wet as it slides into his mouth and brushes his. Coop opens his eyes and Don comes into focus. His eyes are moving under closed lids and his lashes are knitted together. A rosy pink flush has covered his skin, from the whisky and how they are moving their lips and tongues. Don’s languidly exploring Coop’s mouth with his tongue, running the tip over the slippery bumps of his teeth.
He wants to be more insistent and push Don onto the floor and rub against him. He shoves this desire down because he doesn’t feel like breaking Don’s concentration. He doesn’t want to lose this. He softens his mouth to let it become plastic under Don’s, allowing him to be receptive as Don takes the lead. He’s completely occupied with the feeling the feeling of long fingers curving along his jaw and stroking up towards his ear. Coop is involved with how Don smells, just like whisky, soap, and aftershave. He shivers slightly when he realizes that he smells like Don, and a small murmur buzzes in his throat.
Lashes part drowsily. Coop could feel and see him smile, crinkles forming in the corners of his eyes. He sucked on Coop’s lower lip, teasing it with his teeth before slipping away. The smile is still playing on his face as he leans back on his elbows, dropping his head back.
Coop reaches out and lets the bottle spin.
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