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The Fool On The Hill

A. Cooper needed to get out more. This was quite apparent to him as word reached him of Millicent’s latest plans. Letting her vamps run wild seemed like a bad, bad idea to him. He knew a thing or two about losing control and knew none of it ever came to any good. There was no fool like an old fool. Not that Cooper would ever say such words aloud where they could get back to Miss High ‘n Mighty. He liked living, thank you very much. There was nothing to do but go for a ride. He dusted off one of his motorcycles and took off into the night.

After a few blocks, any worries he had seemed to be far away. The only one he currently had was avoiding the suicidal public, who seemed determined to walk in the middle of the road. He yelled out in annoyance at the latest person to get in his way. “Hey! Get your head outta your arse and move it!” When would he learn to keep his mouth shut? Probably never.

B. Leaving the bike behind, he hit the local pubs. It occurred to Cooper that he was a bit peckish. Seeing as how he was out of contact with his usual blood donor, he was going to need someone else to bite into. It didn’t take long for his eyes to land on someone who looked like they might be up for being used as a blood bag. He sidled on up to them and crossed his fingers there were no overzealous hunters working in this part of town.

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When he went by Nancy’s place, he was surprised to discover that she’d moved. Well, he supposed this is what he deserved for not staying in touch. The landlord had always been a shifty character and a little bit of money slipped into his palm helped him to give up her forwarding address. Cooper went there posthaste, but as he got to the door, his nerve failed him. He wasn’t sure of what kind of reception he was bound to receive. Well, he had two options: knock and brace him for impact, or stand here on the doorstep like an idiot all night. Finally, he straightened his spine and rapped two sharp knocks on the door.

When she answered, there was a soft, somewhat apologetic smile on his face. “Hey, sweet-pea.”

To be fair, Nancy wasn't sure what to do either, when she spied Cooper standing in her hallway after what had to have been, oh, six months now? She wanted to open the door, wrap her arms around him and kiss him, because god damn it, she'd missed him! She'd worried about him something awful, and now, he was here like nothing had ever happened! Every bone in her body told her not to hug him, and her brain screamed it as loud as it could, somehow managing to outweigh her heart. So what Nancy did was completely the opposite of what she wanted to do.

She opened the door.

She looked at him almost as if she wasn't sure he was even there or not.

And then, raising a pale hand, slapped him as hard as she could. "Jesus Christ, Cooper!"

Edited 2016-05-16 01:09 (UTC)

Cooper reached his right hand up and slowly rubbed the spot Nancy had slapped on his his cheek. It had left a pink mark. Truth be told, he'd been expecting her to do something like that. "Alright. That, I will admit I deserved." He'd let her get one free shot in. As long as she didn't try to hex him into next week, he figured they were about even.

"Can I come in or are you gonna make me haunt your doorstep?" He can stand there and look pathetic all night long if he has to.

She could have hexed him, sure, but it was so much more satisfying to slap him. Even if her hand was hurting something awful from it. It was definatly satisfying.

What isn't satisfying is having to let him in.

"Don't tempt me," she tells him, before gesturing for him to step in. "Come in."

And once he is inside, she gestures for him to sit. "Where the hell have you been?"

He meekly goes inside and sits where she told him to. He looks around and spots Juliet. The cat gives him a withering stare before heading into the other room. "I've been dead." Get it? Because he's undead. Ha ha. He's not funny.

"I just sorta...withdrew into meself." It's not much of an excuse and Cooper knows it, but it's all he has. At least this time he hadn't run away to the other side of the globe. He'd told Nancy a bit about how he tended to do that when he felt he'd screwed things up.

"Don't even joke about that- you know I was worried you could have." Died again, died for real this time, the true death, whatever.

Nancy comes to stand in front of him, arms crossed over her chest to keep herself from throwing herself at him in a hug. She has to be strong on this. "Oh? And you couldn't even tell me with a text? They take five seconds, Cooper! I was so stupidly worried about you!" It's not fair to leave your friends hanging, to completely ghost on them. Especially when Nancy- well- ah, when she cared about him. Looked forward to spending time with him, blurring the lines between client and friend so hard that maybe it wasn't even there in the first place.

No hunters, luckily. That doesn't mean he doesn't attract some attention. Natasha is seated in a booth, looking for privacy and anonymity in the dim buzz of the pub. She notices when another vampire walks in, older than her and hunting.

Not her business, she tells herself. Not here and not tonight.

She watches out of the corner of her eye as she nurses a whiskey, her interest half concern and half frustration that alcohol doesn't do much more than give her something to do with her hands and her mouth.

"I woulda sent word if I had. Not that I plan to anytime soon." He adds quickly, not wanting her to get any ideas about his state of mind. "Remember, I plan t'stick around 'till you're old 'n grey."

"Alright, so I did a crummy thing." He owes Nancy at least a message once in a while, especially after she had been kind enough to take him in when he was juicing on fae blood. What did it say about him, he wonders internally, when he can't even keep in contact with someone he cares about so much? "How long are you gonna hold this against me? Just so I have a frame of reference."

"Good." She almost smiles at the thought of it. Almost. Honestly, she didn't think she was going to live a very long life. This past year was proof enough of that.

"You did a really crummy thing." At least he admits it. But. "I'm stubborn, you know that. I don't forgive easy. But..." She gives him just the sliest of smiles, because she does miss him terribly. "But I think I'd rather be happy to see you than fight right now."

Without him firing back at her, besides, it took a lot of fun out of fighting. "But seriously, where the hell have you been?"

The short vampire takes a seat at the bar, his feet not even reaching the floor. He's nursing a beer as he looks over the crowd. To an outsider's perspective, he looks relaxed and casual, just a young Irish lad soaking in the atmosphere after a long week. But Cooper has a hunter's mind and he's looking over the crowd the way a lion looks at gazelles. The weak, the injured, the sick. Isolate one and he's got a meal.

He sets his sights on a businessman also seated at the bar, rumpled suit, American accent, and the weary air of someone who's been traveling too much. Cooper slides himself down until he's practically brushing shoulders with the man. From there, it's easy to turn on the charm. He's soon got the man cracking a smile. This is too easy. He just needs to get him outside and the job will be done.

Cooper reaches out a hand and tugs on her arm until she's seated beside him. "Keepin' my head low. I decided gettin' turned into a furry rat-dog was a sign that perhaps I needed to take a step back 'n reevaluate my priorities. I've just been doing my duties for the nest and not much else." It's been boring, but at least he hasn't been cursed again or gone on a fae blood bender.

He twists a strand of Nancy's red hair around his finger. "I don't suppose the same can be said for you. Why'd you end up moving?"

It feels so natural to come sit next to him on the couch, it doesn't even take much to get her to sit. "I'm just glad you're safe," she tells him, with a warm smile.

Her eyes dart to where his fingers are in her hair, but she says nothing. She likes when he plays with her hair, always has. "I was no longer welcome there." She didn't want to worry him, this time, telling him about the time she spent in the hospital.

The way the older vampire acts puts up the hairs on the back of Natasha's neck. The humans don't see it—why would they? He looks like one of them, and not particularly threatening. Except that he's picking just who he wants to cut off from the rest of the evening crowd.

Still not her problem, she reminds herself, taking too big a drink of her whiskey and forcing it down. But she's scooting closer to keep a better eye on things. Seeing if the other vampire is successful.

The spidey sense makes Cooper look up. He's got an inkling that there's a pair of eyes on him somewhere, but he doesn't see anything out of place. Well, he can only focus on one task at a time, and his primary goal here is to get himself and his meal alone. The hunger comes before anything else. He's patient with the tourist, buying him three more drinks before he judges the man compliant enough to work with.

Tapping him on the shoulder, Cooper suggests they head elsewhere for the night. The pair make their way for the door and the vampire looks around one last time. Looks like he's bagged his gazelle.

Cooper continues to run his fingers through her hair. She always smells so good, especially to his vampiric senses. Probably has to do with keeping up appearances in her line of work.

"What happened? Do I have to go punch someone?" Cooper's solution to all of life's problems: if you hit someone in the face enough times, eventually the problem goes away.

She was lucky, too. She did actually happen to care about how she looked.

It's so great to be back in Cooper's arms, leaning her head just slightly on his shoulder. "Please don't punch anyone- Eames already punched Fagin for it, I don't need another person getting in trouble for hitting what looks like an old man." She just... doesn't want to tell him he was the man that put her in the hospital, leading to removing her from her apartment.

It looks like he has.

Natasha throws a few bills on her table and stands herself. She tells herself that it's a coincidence—that she just happens to be done with the noise and the effort that goes into ignoring her hunger at the same time the other vampire is leaving.

But while she might be a good liar, she's never liked lying to herself.

She gives them a head start, but she's following.

Cooper knew that Fagin was bad news. Of course, most fae were, but Nancy had given him enough details to paint in a vivid picture. He had just started dipping his toes back into supernatural affairs and wasn't about to run off and do something stupid. "Well, I've learned a lesson about stayin' away from the likes of him. I've no desire to end up bein' turned into a bug or gettin' squashed like one either."

Cooper leads the man away from the busy street that the pub is on, claiming there's a shortcut that just so happens to run through a dark and dimly lit alley. When will people learn to not be so trusting? When they're halfway down, in the darkest part of the alley where no one will be able to hear anything from the road, Cooper strikes.

He's an old and efficient hunter. Before the tourist has time to blink, he's being slammed into the nearest wall by the deceptively skinny-looking teen. The man only has time for a single confused cry before Cooper's teeth sink into his neck. He laps up the blood with a vague, detached sort of pleasure.

"You were so cute, though," she tells him, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"D'you want something to drink?" She asks, suddenly. "I could use a gin." She wasn't offering her veins to him. Not yet. But she would.

It really shouldn't be a surprise it came to this. A tourist letting himself be led into some dark ally? If it hadn't been vampire, it would have been some other kind of predator.

It was an unsympathetic thought. The smell of blood didn't help that.

Probably the American was safe.

And probably Natasha should just walk away.

Instead, she watches from the alley, grinding her teeth.

Sating the hunger within is all that matters to the vampire and so a full minute goes by before he realizes that he's being watched. He sees Natasha's silhouette at the entrance of the alleyway as he continues to drink his victim's blood. How did he not notice her before? He must be getting sloppy in his old age.

She doesn't seem intent on stopping him, so Cooper quickly finishes feeding. The man is still alive, whimpering a little, though he seems on the verge of passing out. Cooper gives him a command. "Hush now. Go to sleep." The man's eyes close and his form goes limp. Cooper lets him sink to the floor of the alley. He licks the blood off his lips and approaches Natasha, fangs still out. "I suppose you were the one watchin' me in there."

"If you've got any scotch, I'll take some. Or, y'know, anything at all. I'm easy that way." Cooper shifts as Nancy gets up to make the drinks. It's so easy to fall back into the same routines with her. It makes him think of the last time he had fed on her, an experience that makes a faint flush appear on his pale cheeks. There was always a sexual element, feeding off of people, and Nancy was no exception. Indeed, with her, there was something just a little bit...more.

"Who do you take me for?" She asks him, glancing over her shoulder. She exits into the kitchen, and a few moments later is back with two glasses, a scotch and a gin.

She remembered when he'd last fed on her, too. Tangled up on her old couch. She wants to ask if he's hungry, but... "Here you go." She hands him the scotch and slides back down on to the couch with him, a little closer this time.

"I really did miss you, you idiot."

"Just keeping an eye on things," Natasha says, lifting her her chin slightly. Her tone is even, almost neutral&small;there's a little catch in it that she can't quite disguise.

She doesn't let her eyes linger on his mouth.

"Making sure he's walking home." It sounds like a good reason, at least. "There's been more than enough people not this month."

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The Fool On The Hill

Alone on a hill; For Nancy

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