Hold Me Up

Billie grinned ear to ear when Cooper echoed her joke from earlier. Fiddling with her fingers, she nodded towards him in approval. “I like you, Cooper. You’re a pretty cool guy, so you know.” Billie tilted her head to one side, hands still fumbling with each other, one finger in particular flicking back and forth over her thumbnail as she made him a proposition. “You and me need to get actually messy these days. We can talk fantasies till the cows come home, but I like more show than tell. I mean it.” Without hearing a yes or no from him before he got a chance she wanted to reaffirm she was serious. “Go out, have fun somewhere. I’m not really picky about location. I’m pretty flexible.” She smiled.

One corner of his mouth tugged up in a grin, his eyes wrinkling at the edges. “You’re pretty cool yourself, Billie.” Cooper wondered if he’d had his fair share of adventure. So many days had been spent at an airport, jetting off to his next assignment; sitting behind a computer screen, an entire country he’d never seen and may never actually see again just outside. Maybe it would be nice to see something beyond a computer screen. “Alright, alright, no need to flex. Name a time, name a place, messy or not. You’re on.”

      “Sooo clooose.” Eek and there was that tiny thrill deep within; addicting television shows would always hold a place in her heart. “One more season of Vanderpump Rules and GOT will be here.” Her countdown clock. Lisa Vanderpump. “You mean I can play dumb? And actually be dumb and not be judged for it? This might just be the strangest meetup. What’s the catch?” 

“Vanderpump Rules?” Oh no, a television show with which he wasn’t familiar, that embarrassing moment when he had to stare blankly in response to something he should know. “Enlighten me, oh knowledgeable one. I’ll school you on the ways of high fantasy roleplaying, and you can...tell me about whatever that is.”

“You mean because people are incapable of admitting when they’re wrong. Like, sure, salad is nice but have you ever had a hamburger? No contest.” The other already agreed with him, but Xavier felt like he really had to drive the point home. “I’m sold. You had me at pent up hatred.”

“Got it in one. Or, you know, people who prescribe to humanitarian-based ideals tend to feel very, very strongly about them. Can’t fault someone whose argument is ‘WOULD YOU KILL A SWEET LITTLE BUNNY?’ I like bacon well enough, but no I couldn’t kill Wilbur. I’ve read Charlotte’s Web. I crumble every time, then eat my bacon in a dark, back alley somewhere in shame.” He pauses his rant, taking a breath for what could possibly be the first time. “...Uh, yeah, so pent up hatred, we’ll stick with that.”

“Nonsense,” Dex replied blankly to the man who had just bulldozed his way over to him. “The apology is probably better suited for the owners of this establishment, for having to exercise their insurance policy because of some clumsy kid,” he snorted, taking another sip of his coffee. “Foreign concept I’m afraid… Look, I’d invite you to sit, but I really like this shirt.” 

Cooper’s eyebrows lifted, and he casted a quick glance to the counter before looking back. His toes were worse for wear than the chair was; the majority of the damage had been done to the poor guys sleep cycle. His fingers wrapped around his cup of coffee, some of it having spilled over the rim. “Oh of course, I’m liable to topple at any moment. This was by no means an isolated occurrence.” He glanced around the coffee shop, “Five foot radius minimum sound agreeable?”

“It’s like you just – did you read my mind? You must’ve. That’s the only explanation here. Either that or you and I are the only ones with actual taste buds. I’ll happily support you in the revolution as long as I can do it from the shadows, or maybe just blend with the rest of the crowd. Have you ever told a vegan their food is gross? It’s terrifying. I swear, they’re capable of murder, ironically enough.”

“You know, I haven’t had that argument. Talking tastes with anyone other than someone who shares your taste is a recipe for disaster. Subjectivity, and all that. We’ll make it a...quiet revolution. Two-man revolution. No public speaking, just pent up hatred for kale.”

Georgie didn’t know if Cooper was being honest or just saying it to please her in that moment. She never hide what she thought about his decision of falling into his father’s steps and go for a career that she ultimately never thought was suitable enough for him. There was so much more in Cooper Monroe than he probably gave himself credit for, and to just see him throw it all away just like that? That hurt her. She knew he had his reasons and even thought she didn’t agree one hundred percent with them, she tried her hardest to not let it show how she thought of felt about it – even though sometimes she might have terribly failed at it. Georgie was just glad whenever a good letter would come through the mail and she knew he was okay, safe and sound. The idea of losing him just terrified her to no end.

Her smile grew wider at his words and before she could comment on anything, she sensed his need of changing the subject into something else — they could come back to it on a later moment, she was sure. “Oh please, Coop. We have a lifetime ahead of us, plenty of time for me to convert you into something better. You will see, I will still bring you to the right side of the force, you just wait and see.” She winked, giving him a wicked grin a small shrug of her shoulders, like she was already claiming herself victorious on the subject. “Hey now, it wouldn’t be very me if there wasn’t a little bit of Batman in it. And thank you, it means a lot to me. I am proud of you too, I hope you know that.”

“Don’t be so cocky.” She had that grin, she always had. Something wicked and mischievous and god he knew it well. That grin had gotten them into some trouble. Life would be easier, if he didn’t frequently find himself strung along the end of it. Or perhaps his life was better because of it. It hadn’t changed at all since he’d left; his own smile still matched, hands landing on the countertop gently. “I know that look. You think you’ve won, and you haven’t.”

      If that wasn’t just a charming little segue into the world of magic and Frank Underwood-like politics. But with…dragons. (Okay, Dragon’s really were a hot topic this week. Strange). “I wasn’t but I guess I’m subconsciously missing Game of Thrones. Something like that.” Not even sure there was any similarities, except well, dragons. She let out a snort at her own inner thoughts before correcting herself to talk to a real life person again, “How’re you with newbies though? I’d hate to be a drag on a bunch of experienced elves and half horse people. Ya know?” 

“Twenty-nineteen, we’re getting close.” He added with no small amount of excitement. ‘GoT Returns’ was not written in red on his calendar. Not that he admit, at any rate. It was a sensible calendar, filled with job interviews and every obligation that would be expected of a twenty-eight-year-old. Which...was honestly something he was still figuring out. “Bring me the newbies. You want to be a half-horse? You’ve got it.” There was a homebrew for that, right? “You want to be a new half-horse? Just woke up, no idea how the world works? Even better, stumble through it with me.”

A small and bright “hm” left her lips as she looked down. “Are there rules? I don’t know if I could commit to like… a weekly thing,” she said looking back down at the poster. “I work shifts so I never really know when I’m going to be working.” 

“I’d help with rules.” There was little time for them to get into the full spectrum of rules and combat dynamics that went into Dungeons and Dragons. While enthusiastic, Cooper wasn’t the type to hold someone captive on a sidewalk for hours on end. “There will be plenty of beginners, surely, and we’ll keep it as easy and fun as possible. As for not being around? That’s okay, too. Weekly commitments are hard for everyone. We can work around that. Maybe your character ran off for the week to work on the family farm, or...” His eyes lit up, his hands working together. “Or they’re secretly working with the enemy, and was aiding in planning the next attack. Or...what I mean to say is, you don’t have to be there every week, you’re welcome to come whenever you can make it.”

The soon to be twenty-nine year old was never one to pass away a chance to do something new and different. She had always been pushed to always try something different from her norm. That was probably why she had managed to enroll in the local knitting group as well as the book club within the past few days. Not to mention that she had decided to pick up her photography hobby that she had developed in free time during high school so what was one more activity, right?

“ — Hey — I’m Ellie — I don’t think I have met you.” Then again with her trips, she really didn’t go outside her circle of family and friends she had made when she had been little and spent every summer here. That was how she had managed to make her best friend Georgie. “ — Ah so is it like writing group or — video?” Because if it was the latter than she was going to be forever lost, she should’ve asked one of her siblings to teach her how to play Mario go-kart — or was it Princess Peach go-kart? — who was the main character again?

“Cooper.” He offered with a smile, holding out a hand. His eyes squinted, thinking her vaguely familiar, but couldn’t quite place her face. He’d begun writing everyone off as new, it was easy enough to brush off whatever familiarity may have been there. Twelve years was a long time to leave, with only the occasional trip home. He wondered if anyone other than Georgie even knew him anymore. It almost felt better, just to start over. Like stepping foot onto that airplane: something fresh, something different, not nearly as terrifying.

She felt a little more at ease with his reassurance that she really was not all that sloppy about tackling life for answers, that deep down even it little ways there were others just as confused as she really was. “Thanks.” She replied softly, too flustered to open her big mouth in protest with him. “I guess I just mean that finding those answers can be messy, you know, it all depends on where and how you go looking. And sometimes you might not like what you find.” She warned, wagging her finger in his direction without anything ominous to back up her words at all. “Really?” As she sat up her expression changed to bemusement instantly. “So… Olivia Newton-John when she had big hair dressed in leather in Grease or Olivia Newton-John now?“

He smiled, something soft and small and too old for his twenty-eight years. “If you’re messy, I’m messy. We’re all messy. There’s...no finesse to life, is there? You just have to take steps, and hope you’re not breaking something. Sometimes you do, sometimes you don’t.” Cooper had broken his fair share of things. There was a tenuous friendship with his favorite comic book store owner to attest to his ‘bull in a china shop’ tendencies. “Maybe the mess is half the fun.” The smile changed, then, crooked and younger. Then he covered his face with one hand, dragging it down, something like an embarrassed laugh escaping, before echoing, “Billie. I’d have Olivia past, present, and future.”

Naia wore exhaustion like a second skin most days, messy red hair picked up in a high bun & dark bags constantly under her eyes — exactly the total opposite of what a prim ballerina should look like. It wasn’t like she cared though, between shifts at the restaurant and constant rehearsals, sleep fell through the cracks and she often settled for cheap coffee around the corner. As she was leaving the dance studio today, curiosity got the best of the dancer as she saw someone putting up posters for some kind of game.

“What’s D&D?” She asked, reading over the announcement now stuck to the phone pole. “Is it some kind of kinky roleplaying thing?” Naia jested, a smirk spreading across her lips as she brought he coffee cup closer for a long sip. “If so, where do I sign up?”

This time, Cooper didn’t spin right around at the new voice, taking a moment to ruminate over his next comeback. The thoughts tumble-stopped at the question. His fingers fumbled with the tack he was using to pin-up up the poster, and it bent, falling to the ground. The flyer itself fluttered down along with it; it was a wonder he didn’t drop the whole stack. Slowly, as though turning to face some inevitable foe he was still denying was there at all, he turned to face the newcomer.

“Hey, whoa.” He started, pointing a finger at her. His eyes narrowed, and he had Tumblr dot com flashbacks; a slideshow of memes and stories reeling through his mind. “You’re one of those that would try to seduce every foe, aren’t you? Reduce my monsters to hapless goo. Well, I’ll have you know it’s...entirely possible.” His shoulders dropped in defeat. “But ultimately no, it’s not usually. It’s all about adventures, and defeating foes. It’s only kinky if you’re a bard, and you want it to be.”

     Shopping was a good distraction, as good as any really. When deaths door wasn’t a’ knockin’ for the good townsfolk of Portchester there was really not much to stay occupied besides becoming a constant browser at all the local boutiques and grocery stores. Really. That could take up hours. Hitting herself for not being much of a reader…the library would have to be her next venture one of these days. OR…Dungeons and Dragons? God had she gotten herself good and bored as of late. Saddling up next to the randy posting the signs,  “Is this a club? Are you training?” 

Cooper paused midway through tacking up another poster at a new voice, casting a glance to the side. He grinned, one hand scratching at his chin in exaggerated thought. “Yes.” He turned to face her, another downtown someone, another new face in the sea. “I’m training to trek unfamiliar landscapes, and defeat powerful foes. To slay dragons, and con my way into corrupt governments. To...well, tell a story. I’m trying to put together a dungeons and dragons group, get back into it after some time away. I suppose you could call it a club. Why, you looking?”

“Oh, the horror hunks for sure. But I don’t know I must be riding the hot mess express because I like to charge forward for answers. I need something in my life to keep the gears grinding if you know what I mean.” Nothing and nowhere was too scary a concept for a girl like her to grasp onto. She like to think that life had answers for her, hidden in all these little treasure troves around the globe specifically for her. Childish and dreamy maybe to some, but to her, they added something to her life. Once she ran out of those answers, there’d be nothing to look forward to. Supposedly. “Good answer.” She nodded thoughtfully with a sweet inducing smile. “Look, Cooper, you listened to me gush. It’s your turn. Any horror icons that you have a mad crush on? Don’t worry there are no wrong answers here.” Billie encouraged him with a light nudge. 

“Charging forward doesn’t make you a hot mess.” He said, softer. One corner of his mouth twitched up, and his shoulders lifted in something of a shrug. “Neither does looking for answers. We’re all...curious. I’m curious, all the time, about everything. I think it makes you human, that need for answers, that restless feeling.” And everyone wanted the answer to life. He’d thought he could stumble into it, abandoning everything for the Air Force and a pair of boots that would fill his dad’s footprints. The curiosity didn’t make him an idiot, it made him a student, learning lessons with every step. His thoughts tumbled over one another, distracting and far too serious for a conversation about Evil Dead. “I mean...yeah, sorry. Uh, mad crush? Olivia Newton-John, hands down.”

        “That’s the beauty of the universe.” Palms opened wide to aid his words. As if anyone could know the universe; it was impossible. “Anything’s possible, maybe they don’t exist. Maybe they used to.” Of course, being a professor of occult studies didn’t mean he had to believe in everything he taught. He showed major interest, which is why he’d picked it up in the first place. There was hardly scientific proof to it all. “But I’ve never seen a dragon skeleton before, have you? Everything is up to interpretation, we have too many sources available to us. Do you watch Game of Thrones?”

“‘Can’t prove otherwise’ is a solid defense, I get that. It’s the same defense that allows a lot of religious beliefs slide.” His nose wrinkled, thinking about church pews and his three-year-old Sunday best. Dragons were much more fun to think about, and he had to admit, Uriah’s enthusiasm for the subject was infectious. He leaned forward, forearms resting against the table. “Yeah, yeah I watch Game of Thrones. Are you going to argue it could all be based on a true story? Because...I’m not sure I’d like that. Tell me, please, we have solid proof against the existence of White Walkers.”

The expression that pulled onto Tori’s face was not unlike the one saved for adorable puppies - he was sweet. “I’ll make you look good, promise. But if you want we can save it for a slow song, less flailing limbs involved then,” she beamed, tucking her blonde locks behind her ear. “I’m Tori,” she greeted as she leaned against the bar, assured after a closer look that she had never seen him around town before. “Got big plans for all that?” she inquired, nodding towards the growler in the bartender’s hands.

Cooper’s hand fell to the bar, eyes narrowing at the expression on her face. Playfully, the corners of his lips ticking up. The bartender threw him an amused look as the growler, now full of a caramel cinnamon cider, was slid across the counter towards him. He briefly thought of slow dances, and how his failure would look in slow motion, before brushing the thought away. “Hi, Tori.” He smiled around the name, mirroring her stance against the bar. “Cooper, not-dancer extraordinaire. And this...” He gestured at the growler, “Is for d-and-d Thursdays. Are you new around here?”