Authors Note: This is my first cold case story. I don't really watch cold case that much, but some episodes get to me.

This one is about Jimmy and Cooper from the episode Forever Blue. - Can be read without seeing the whole episode. Go on youtube and find the clips of these two, I promise you'll be hooked. Anyways. Yadayadayada, I don't own anything and so forth and so on.

Now, bring on the slash!

Are we in space. Do we belong?

Some place where no one calls it wrong

And like the stars we burn away

The miles.

It was a stupid fight anyways. You know that and you know that the things you said was out of order, but right now you're so angry you don't give a damn. You're wrestling and you can smell the scotch on his breath and the cold sweat on his arms.

And you prepare to lunch yourself forward again with the purpose of beating that fucking smug look of his face and reminding him that you're ain't no rag doll for him to beat as he fucking pleases. And then out of nowhere he kisses you, presses your lips so hard together is actually hurts and you swear you can feel the world stop turning for just a split second.

You tear yourself away and you stand there panting and sweating and feeling like you're gonna faint like a goddamn woman. And you can hear a voice screaming in your head to fucking punch him in the face, because you ain't no queer – but this is Coop and you don't think you've ever seen him so scared. And that scares you, because Coop has seen a whole lot of shit, shit he doesn't even wants to share with you. And you're standing there looking him straight in the eye and a million thoughts run through your head and you're trembling. Then your mind has a momentarily breakdown and your body a will of it's own, because you take two step towards him and put your hands on his face, your wedding ring scratching his neck and you're kissing him.

Tasting the scotch and feeling his hands on your back, and it's all hard angles and stubble chins and his tongue finding it's way into your mouth and it feels so fucking good that you can feel your knees buckle under you. And he holds you as you break away and rest your forehead on his shoulder. And nothing has ever been so quiet in the world as this moment. Not even his racing heartbeat against yours counts as a sound. And maybe if it would stay this way it would be okay. Maybe if neither of you ever speak and just keep standing here frozen, in a frozen time, it would be okay. But he breaks it by whispering, "Jimmy..." His voice sounding like sandpaper and something else, something you don't want to think about. And then something inside you breaks, you swear you can hear it loud and clear and you realize what just happened.

This is Coop.

And you tear yourself away as burned and you run to the house without looking back, slamming the door behind you. You stand there with your back against the door until you hear the garden door slam. Your head spinning from the scotch and the feeling of your partners breath against your chin. That's when you slide down the door and you start crying without wanting to. And you never think you've been so scared.

You sit there for a long time. Whispering "oh god, oh god, oh god" over and over again. And swearing and cursing and fucking crying till your head feels like it's about to explode. And you don't understand. You don't get it. Nothing has ever been so wrong to you, ever. But nothing has ever felt so right to you either. And the bare thought of this makes you want to hurl your guts out.

As you slip into bed hours or maybe days after, your wife sleeping peacefully beside you, you realise that Coop wanted this. And he probably wanted it for a long time. And you don't know if you did as well.

Next day you pretend it never happened. It is easier than you thought. At the station Coop looks at you and opens his mouth and you close your eyes to show him that you don't wanna talk about it. He gets it and says nothing. But there's a new slump in his shoulders and it makes your heart ache in a fucking ridiculous way. But you ignore this and you both get by as if everything was normal. And you actually fool yourself into to believing that it was the scotch and too many build up emotions and anger and every other stupid reason you can think of. And when the kids ask why uncle Sean never comes around anymore you say something like "Uncle Sean is very busy right now" And it works. It does.

But then one night after work, after finishing a ton of paperwork and wanting noting more than to get home to a nice dinner and maybe a beer in front of the television, you hear him.

You're walking past the changing rooms and a sound makes you stop right in your tracks. You sneak up to the door, heart pounding like a kid who knows he's up to no good. And you open the door without making a sound. And he's there. Sitting on a bench, hunched forward, head in his hands and he's crying, as you've never heard anybody crying before. And through the sobs and his rough breathing you can hear the exact same words you were gasping what feels like a hundred nights before.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god"

And what was slowly beginning to heal, breaks again and you run away once again.

You find yourself sitting at a bar. Clutching your whiskey on the rocks, starring down at it like it holds all the answers. And people around you are talking about the elections and Nixon and Nam' and you wish they would just shut the fuck up. Because you are lost. You have never been so lost before. And you honestly feel like crying but there is no way in hell you're going to sit a bar bawling your eyes out, so you order another double on the rocks and another and another and you try not to think about the way the skin right under Coops ear smell, because if you do, you'll start punching something. And you are not like this. You don't go to bars after work and get slammed when your wife and kids are waiting at home. You are not the punching kind of guy. You don't cheat and you don't lie and you don't want to kiss your partner so bad it actually hurts.

And when you stagger out of the bar, hours later and your intoxication level a great deal higher, you mean to go home. You mean to get a cab and tell it to bring it to your house, but the cabdriver must have heard you wrong because you get out of the cab and it's speeding away before you realise you're outside Coop's front door. And you know you should just fucking turn around and get your drunk ass home but instead you find yourself hitting the doorbell and after a few attempts actually succeeding. And it's not to late to make a run for it. But you wouldn't be able to run if you're life was at stake. And then he's there. In boxers and T-shirt and looking like he just stumbled out of bed. Then you realise you don't have a clue what the hell to say and you don't blame him for looking so goddamn confused. So you just stand there and say nothing. And then he does it again. Says your name in that way. And for the third time something breaks and suddenly you just don't care. You launch yourself at him, like you meant to do so many nights ago. But this time it's not your fist you want to collide with his mouth.

And at first he seems surprised to find your mouth on his but then he responds and the door slams behind you as you attack each other with kisses and bites and oh god. You pull his T-shirt over his head because suddenly you're desperate to feel his skin. You both fall to the couch, you first and him on top and you can feel your dick raging hard against your thigh. He tries to unbutton your shirt but his hands are shaking too much so you help him and then you're skin against skin and a moan you didn't know you were keeping escapes you. It makes him press his body even harder against yours and his breath is damp against your ear saying things like oh god jimmy, you have no idea…" And you think to yourself that he is absolutely right. You have no fucking clue about what you're doing. But you know you want this. You have never wanted anything or anybody so much as you want him right now. And you wonder why it doesn't feel more weird to put your hand down his pants and grab his dick, why it doesn't seem wrong when he opens your jeans and pull your briefs down your ass, why is doesn't seem off the beam when he puts his mouth on you and sucks you off so you can't see anything but a white light and buzzing in your ears. You wonder.

And afterwards when you're lying together all sticky and sweaty. You on top of him again, your head on his chest, his arms cradling you. And as you're keep kissing a spot on his arm, lingering your lips and smelling his skin you stop dead in your tracks. You slowly break free of the embrace, pushing yourself up from the couch and he looks up at you, all flustered and quiet, and you just look. And when he says

"Please don't run out on me again… I don't think I can take that one more time"

in this voice that makes your heart tighten – and you realise you had no such thing in mind. You lower yourself so your faces are right in front of each other. And you look him straight in the eye as you kiss him, slowly. And you keep your eyes open as you kiss his nose. As to show him that you mean this. You do. You might still not be completely sober and you think you might have lost your mind somewhere between the bar and this couch. You still mean this.

Neither of you say anything for a long time. And when you grab your clothes sometime before dawn, he holds you just before you're about to open the front door and whispers something in your ear that you already know. And even if this is like being in a fucking twilight zone, it makes you forget your wife who's probably pacing floors at home, your mother who's currently turning in her grave, your father who would put you in a grave if he knew, because you think; oh god it is worth it.

There we have it.

So remember reviewing is loving. English is not my first language so I apologize if there's any unforgivable mistakes.

Woop :D