Work Text:
“Harry,” Coop starts, brows knitting and voice wavering. Instead of making eye contact, he sidesteps the sheriff to stand behind him diagonally.
“Is that a new mole behind your ear?”
“New?!”
Harry's unsettled by the question. The only explanation he can think of for new growths is skin cancer, a risk any newcomer to Twin Peaks could discount because of Twin Peaks' frequent lack of sunshine. Harry, though, knows better than to underestimate what this town is capable of.
Coop peers over his shoulder, more and more in his space. He’d just popped into his office to announce he was heading back to the Great Northern for the night. Seems like Cooper always got sucked back into the station on his way out the door. It looks like he’s abandoned that idea, spending another minute examining the back of Harry’s neck.
Under Coop’s concentrated gaze Harry flushes. After feeling Cooper’s exhale on his skin Harry turns to face his unusually quiet friend. Coop puts on a bright face but Harry sees some discomfort through it.
“Nothing a pair of sterile tweezers can’t fix.”
Harry’s been what some call a woodsman long enough to put two and two together, though he’s a little embarrassed at how long it took. Any Eagle Scout could recognize a tick and Cooper's no exception. Not to overlook Coop’s observational skills. His sharp eye might’ve saved Harry a lot of trouble.
“Don’t touch.”
That’s how he became aware of his hand rising on autopilot to rub the back of his neck. Occupied territory. There was something caring but firm in Coop’s command, clipped shorter than normal so he’d stop Harry from agitating the spot.
“Thanks.”
It dawns on Harry that while he’s been leaning on his desk Coop’s been the one searching his office for the first aid kit. Maybe if it was Hawk or Andy it would’ve irked him but Harry's happy to see Coop comfortable in his space. It got lonely being the only one in here, during nights as dark as Cooper’s hair with plenty of paperwork to do. Harry's more content than he should be with a bug bitten into his skin.
“Have you done this before?” Harry asks, not pointedly; out of curiosity and a desire to help more than anything else. When they were much younger Harry’d plucked a tick from his brother’s leg. If there way anything from that experience that could help...
“I have. What else is sleep-away camp for?”
Harry smiles back but can't quite relate. There was a sleep-away campsite in Twin Peaks so few bothered leaving for the summer except maybe Leland Palmer’s family. Of course his mind drifts back there. Coop seems to take notice, not looking at the first aid kit as he latches it open.
“You’re in good hands,” he reassures.
“Oh, I believe it.”
“Once I’ve got the bastard, I’ll make a beeline for the boys’ room to dispose of it. Odds are it won’t put up too much of a fight but I’ll double-check to make sure the dragon’s been slayed.”
Now armed with the tweezers, Coop takes position behind Harry. To steady the both of them Coop places his free hand on Harry’s shoulder, palm gripping where the beige collared shirt slopes down. Harry’s not done processing that when Coop tells him he’ll start counting down.
“One”
This shouldn’t be as attractive as it is, Coop’s voice breathy and touch firm.
“Two”
Harry’s too busy cataloging this moment for future analysis to realize that, of course, Coop won’t get all the way to three. Without another word Coop swiftly plucks the bug from his freckled skin. It’s over before the movement even stings. Coop’s not looking at him, though, focused more on the little devil caught between the metal prongs. Coop leans his broad back into the door to push it all the way open.
Alone momentarily, Harry tries to decipher how he’s feeling. This ordeal has been objectively gross and Harry expects to feel the same way. Instead, he finds himself missing Coop, even for the minute it takes for him to flush the bug and wash under his fingernails. Harry can’t wait for Coop to come back, as silly as it sounds to talk about someone around the corner in the same office building. But Harry feels a weight lift when Coop comes in, he always does. This time it’s with a soft, victorious smile.
“I believe that was all, Harry, but if you wouldn’t mind allowing me another look.”
Harry nods and Coop re-enters his personal space but stays (regrettably) out of view. One of Coop’s hands returns to its resting place, the other grazes Harry’s skin searching in vain. Coop’s fingertips feel electrically charged somehow. The contact short-circuits Harry’s brain.
“Sitting so still for me’s paid off, Harry. You’re right as rain.” Coop declares, letting his hand linger as he comes back into Harry’s view.
“Thanks, Coop.” Harry almost whispers, transfixed by Coop’s hazel eyes.
Coop still hasn’t taken his warm hand away. Harry takes that as a sign that maybe Coop’s feeling something similar.
With a moonshot looking more possible with every second, Harry brings his right hand over to cover Coop’s, still spread on his shoulder. The touch is simple but profound. Coop starts to smile, almost incredulous, with his criminally pink lips.
Harry’s only human; he can resist no longer. He leans up into what becomes the best kiss of his life, hands down. Cooper’s bottom lip tastes of coffee and cherries. It’s more tender than he thought it’d be, kissing a man. If anyone has a prickling shadow on his face it’s Harry, who Coop pulls away from.
Worried for a second, Harry realizes Coop just wanted to drape his arms around Harry’s bug-free neck and look into his eyes to confirm what they were doing.
“Harry, I’ve never been more grateful for a tick.”
“Me neither, Coop.”
“Though any Boy Scout would tell you it’s worth checking the rest of your body.”
Harry smirks, endeared. Only Coop could make that sexy. And by some divine (or insect’s) intervention, all that sexiness was being directed at him.
“How ‘bout we head home, then?” Harry murmurs, disregarding any of his brother’s advice about moving too fast. Nothing’s ever felt more right to him than this.
For a second Harry worries that he overstepped, before Coop’s fingers wind up in his curls at the nape of his neck.
“Home,” Cooper repeats, overwhelmed by the loveliness of the word.
Coop pulls away, only momentarily, to put his hand in Harry’s. The touch is so gentle that Harry can almost feel love emanating from where their fingers lace together. With his free hand, Harry flips the light switch off and the two leave the office for home.