the journal of r. cooper

Jesse on Facebook donated, and asked for Scott and Cole, with a Psych reference. (It’s been a while since I’ve watched Psych, so sorry if this is weird)

It was the night before the night before Thanksgiving. Scott and Tiny should probably should have been doing something besides drink—or at least been drinking something more fitting with the season.

But Pineapple Cosmos were delicious, and Scott felt like he’d earned an indulgent cocktail with a wedge of pineapple on the rim. Memo, behind the bar, probably disagreed, but Scott had already tipped him extra, so it was fine. It was all fine.

Sure, he was on shift this Thanksgiving, which wasn’t a huge deal in itself. He’d worked it before, Christmas and New Year’s too. But Ang and the kids were driving down to spend it with their parents, and Cole was supposed to go visit his family, which meant even when Scott got off shift the day after, there’d be no one around for him to spend time with.

He’d been alone before. But this felt extra alone, something he was trying to ignore with the help of a few pretty drinks.

Tiny, who had started with beer before tasting a Cosmo and demanding one of his own, and then another, did not seem to be fooled by this. Scott had, after all, shown up at his house earlier and asked if he wanted to go out. And despite the fact that Rhonda had him cleaning in preparation for holiday visitors, she’d frowned and then shooed them out of the house.

“He can always clean tomorrow, with his hangover,” she’d said, evilly, and kissed Scott on the cheek, which she didn’t normally do. He had a feeling he looked sad. Probably because he was sad. And drunk. He was pretty drunk.

He sighed at his phone, and the messages from Cole.

“You gonna answer those any time soon?” Tiny wondered, hiccupping in the middle. “Shit, what is in these girly drinks?”

“Hard alcohol and sugar.” Scott downed the last of his second one, then slid the empty glass onto the bar. He caught Memo’s eye. Memo snorted, but then started making another with a resigned air.

Without looking at Memo, Tiny raised his arm to gesture that he would also like another one. “Tomorrow’s gonna suck.”

Scott agreed, although he resolved to drink some water soon. “Doesn’t matter. Nothing to do. Not cooking anything, so not going to the store. Not that I would. It’s like, a free-for-all before Thanksgiving. Go for a long run, I guess.”

“Told you.” Tiny paused, as if he had to focus to keep from slurring. “Told you, welcome with us. Stick you with Rhonda’s ex-step mother—it’s complicated. Anyway, she’d love ya. Probably play footsie under the table. Also… also wait. Hey. What about loverboy?”

Scott frowned at his phone. “School’s out at noon. Then he’s driving to his parents’ house. It’s chill. It’s fine.”

Tiny noisily sucked on his wedge of pineapple. “That sounds like denali to me.”

“You mean denial,” Scott frowned, after a couple of seconds to ponder.

“No, that’s a river in Egypt.” Tiny reached for their new cocktails, and handed Scott his.

“That’s the Nile.” Scott answered before it occurred to him that Tiny knew that, and was either wasted, or teasing him. This was what happened when Lewis left the station TV on USA all day.

“I’ve heard it both ways.” Tiny shrugged.

Scott gave him an uncertain look, then decided whatever and drank some more. “It is fine. Cole and I aren’t… I couldn’t just ask him to stay in town for me. They’re his family.”

“So what are you telling me, Scotty?” Tiny smacked his lips. “Goddamn, this shit is good. Did you even try asking Cole to stay in town for you? Oh shit!” Tiny sat up. “Does he even know you’re going to be alone this year?” He shook his head at Scott’s silence. “That’s bad. You can’t lie, man. Lying only gets you in trouble. He’s a smart fucker. He’s gonna figure it out.”

“I’m going to tell him.” Scott had more Cosmo, and thought about Cole’s expression when he realized Scott had been avoiding the subject of the holiday, and why. He’d probably realize soon, and be annoyed, or worse, hurt. Scott didn’t even know why he didn’t want to tell him. “He’ll be upset, I think. Or want to cook for me or something.”

He probably wanted to cook for Scott right now. He’d sent messages wondering what Scott was doing tonight, if he was hungry. “It’s not about the food. It’s…” Cole sent another message, slightly worried because Scott wasn’t answering. “It’s… I’m not single now.”

“Aw.” Tiny gave him a one-armed hug that was more of a crushing squeeze. “First big holiday without your boyfriend. Man, we are so good at like emoting and stuff.”

“Fuck off,” Scott grunted. He was grumpy and mean, and either too drunk or not drunk enough. “I never had someone to miss before. I wanted, like, things. Traditions of our own, I guess.”

Tiny nudged him. “Answer him already. Answer him before I have another one of these and you have to carry me home.”

“Straight guys are lightweights,” Scott remarked, as though focusing wasn’t a struggle. “What do I even say?”

“That you gotta work, and you’re going to miss him. Also maybe mention where you are, and that you are drunk, and you want to kiss him like a proud homosexual warrior returning home to his waiting husband.”

“There are so many things wrong with that.” Scott blinked a few times. “Where do I start?”

“Maybe by telling me why you’re this drunk by eight o’clock, or why you haven’t answered my messages.” Cole was always so icily precise. “Or why Romano here has been texting me to, and I quote, ‘Come drag my fine specimen of a boyfriend home’?”

Scott turned to face Cole. “I work on Thanksgiving and I’m going to miss you.” Cole stiffened, then slowly looked Scott over from his head to his feet. “Also I am drunk, and I want to kiss—no, I um, had stupid ideas about stuff, and they were like, fantasies, I know that. But I wanted them, you know? But you’ll be gone, and Ang is gone, and my parents don’t even know you, and I’ll end up playing footsie with Rhonda’s ex-mom and I… I’ll miss you. I drank a lot.”

Cole didn’t move. He was probably processing all of that. It was fine. Scott finished his drink, then put the glass on the bar.

“You aren’t playing footsie with anyone.” Cole was so stern. He crossed his arms. “Secondly, why didn’t you tell me sooner? I could have made plans. And thirdly—” he came closer “—tell me more about these ideas of yours.”

“Yeah?” Scott tipped his head back.

Cole briefly leaned around him to order a bourbon and a water. The water was apparently for Scott. “Yes,” Cole said, against Scott’s ear, and then stepped back when Scott shivered. He gave Scott a warm look over the top of his glass of bourbon.

“I want to have traditions with you!” Scott blurted, and didn’t know why Cole beamed a smile at him, but he liked it anyway.

“Not getting this drunk every year around this time, I hope,” Cole commented, drifting back into Scott’s space. Scott barely noticed Tiny heaving himself off his barstool and saluting them before heading out. “Because too much alcohol might hinder some of my plans for you. And dinner is waiting, with plenty of leftovers for you to eat before I can feed you properly this weekend.”

Scott tilted his head to Cole’s so he could whisper but still he be heard.  “Cole,” he murmured, to watch Cole shiver, “you are so sexy right now.”

Cole was smooth. “And with that, I think it’s time I drag my fine specimen of a boyfriend home.”

Scott was off the barstool without a second thought.