#shermancooper

“Hey,” Cooper replies, just as nonchalant. The tension between them is obvious, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it; he seems perfectly content to act as if their shared history hasn’t left a mark on him. Maybe it hasn’t. God, it really was monumentally stupid to believe Ben could’ve ever been more than the wide-eyed, naive rookie to someone like Cooper.

Ben grits his teeth and sets his jaw, taking a moment to survey Cooper. He looks stronger and healthier, but the haunted expression on his face is entirely too familiar. When Cooper looks down, breaking eye contact, Ben’s gaze follows to the beer bottle clutched between his hands. He doesn’t let his eyes linger there.

“Heard about Dewey,” Ben starts, “how is he?”

“I went and saw him. He’s, uh, he’s gonna be fine.”

“Thank God,” he says sincerely when Cooper doesn’t volunteer more information. Insufferable as he can be, Dewey is one of them, and he’s important to Cooper. “Crazy.”

There are so many things they could discuss, questions that need to be asked, but Ben finds his throat clicking shut. Cooper doesn’t deserve anything from him, certainly, and while Ben is entitled to push for his own answers, he finds himself lacking in both courage and desire to do so.

“Celebrating your big narc bust?”

The question coaxes a smile out of Ben, and he straightens his shoulders as he recalls his advantage. He’s had success, and plenty of it, since they’ve parted ways; his days as a Boot are far behind him. John knows it, too, as he’s apparently been paying attention to the trajectory of his career. Knows Ben has been getting by just fine without him. “You heard about that,” he says with a jut of his chin, not bothering to hide the smug satisfaction in his voice.

“The guys were talking,” John explains as Ben sips his drink. “How’d you figure that one out?”

“Ah, you know, just using my ops skills like you told me.” There’s a beat of stunned silence, and then John laughs heartily, the sound carrying over the music and the loud chatter around them. Ben can’t help but follow, imitating the action until his cheeks are sore. It’s like old times, the two of them sharing a beer and chasing away the day’s tragedies with laughter. So much has happened between them and yet, for this fraction of a second, it feels like no time has passed at all. An unidentifiable emotion bubbles inside of Ben, pressing insistently against his chest, crushing his ribcage. It settles heavily, leaving him cold and hollow.

“Yeah, right,” John chuckles into his beer. Ben has to tear his eyes away from his mouth.

“No, it is,” he insists, set on keeping up appearances. He’ll be damned if he betrays how much John affects him. He stares at the liquor bottles lining the bar, the polished glasses the bartender just finished cleaning. He can’t quite keep the bitterness out when he speaks again. “Doesn’t matter where you are, you’re always on patrol.”

“You got better things you could be doing with your time?” John’s blue eyes settle on him, sharp and expectant. Ben’s not sure if the words are an accusation, a challenge or an honest inquiry. Either way, Cooper has lost the right to all three.

Ben gives a tight-lipped smile before looking away, clenching his jaw. His lips are dry and his voice sounds nothing like it normally does. “Greatest show on earth, you always told me.

“ ‘m trying to give you some advice here, numbnuts.”

Ben’s fingers close around the neck of his beer bottle, clutching it with such force it’s a wonder the glass doesn’t give.“And what’s that?” The hostility in his voice is plain as day, cheeks flushed with anger. Where the hell does he get off to say that?

Cooper seems to identify the fury on Ben’s face, the accusations that sit heavy on his tongue. He purses his lips and looks away. “Forget it.” After a moment, he takes a deep breath and reaches in his jeans pocket. There’s a rattling sound as his fingers close around an object.

“Wow,” Ben mutters in disbelief when an orange pill bottle comes into view. A pulse of pain shoots between his brows and he brushes a hand across his forehead. There have been countless moments in the past year and a half where he’s wondered how John was doing, whether leaving him had been the right choice. The answer is in front of him, now, his actions validated, and part of him feels relieved. Vindicated. He’d been right to believe nothing would change, to cut his losses while he still could and get out.

“Don’t worry,” Ben says as Cooper opens the cap and tips the pill bottle to his palm. That he doesn’t bother hiding it, after everything, makes Ben’s blood boil and his tongue vicious. “I’m not gonna piss away my life on patrol for twenty years.” Cooper swallows the pill and chases it with his drink. “I’m thinking about taking the detective exam.”

Cooper scoffs. “God help us all,” he says and takes another long pull of his beer.

Unwilling to let Cooper’s audacity go unchallenged, Ben schools his features and looks right at him. How dare he act so cavalier and pop pills right in front of him, on top of everything he’s put him through, all that he’s cost him. “Drinking again?”

“I never really stopped,” Cooper says, meeting Ben’s gaze unflinchingly. The sound of rattling pills is even louder when he puts the bottle back in his pocket. It takes all of Ben’s self-control to stop himself from ramming his fist into Cooper’s face.

“All right,” Ben says after a tense moment, and he is so fucking done. He takes a swig of his own drink, glass clinking loudly against the counter when he brings it back down. Being around John is stifling, and he can’t bear it any longer.

When he gets up, a strong pull on his arm stops him from leaving. Staring at Cooper’s fingers wrapped tight around the crook of his elbow, Ben can hardly hear the beat of the music over the pounding of blood in his ears.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he snarls, making no move to get away as his composure completely disintegrates. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

Cooper’s hand slides down to his wrist, grip loose, fingers cold where they brush Ben’s bare skin. A jolt runs up his spine when John’s thumb catches against his pulse point. The touch is familiar, and it used to hold the power to ground him when nothing else made sense.

“Ben,” John croaks, voice breaking around the name. The note of familiarity is an insult, his greatest offense, and Ben’s anger spikes, lighting him up from the inside.

“Don’t,” he demands, his own voice unwavering, and wrenches his arm free. “It’s been over a year, and that’s all you have to say to me?”

Cooper lets go easily, hand falling to rest by his side. He narrows his eyes. “What were you hoping to hear?”

On the nights when Ben lied awake thinking about seeing John again, he never expected an apology. Even if John were the type to shell out sorrys, it would be too little, too late. Instead, Ben imagined there would be anger and hostility, that John would attack with ugly accusations of abandonment, demanding an explanation for Ben’s silent retreat from his life. He believed there would be some sort of proof that he wasn’t the only one left bruised and hurting, that this trainwreck of a relationship was not completely one-sided. Never did he expect to be met with indifference.  

“I left you,” says Ben, keeping his voice down. The bar is crowded and their conversation is swallowed by the noise, but there are still other cops milling around; the last thing he needs is someone overhearing them and the entire precinct learning of their past relationship. “I drove you to the hospital, packed my bags and left you without a word. And you’ve really got nothing to say about it?”

“I never expected you to do anything else,” John says, and Ben’s stomach turns at the words and their implication. Godfuckingdamit. How does John Cooper maintain the ability to affect him so much after so long? “I put your life in danger. I failed you. That’s on me. You did what you had to do.”

Ben’s mouth drops open at the admission, and he finds himself at a loss for words. “You lied to me,” he finally says, the words passing his lips without permission, leaving the taste of battery acid on his tongue. “You used me.” There is no hope of maintaining an apathetic facade anymore, not when his body won’t cooperate, when he’s lost all semblance of control. He’s shaking, now, clenching his trembling fists so his fingernails dig into his palms. “You checked out. You left me long before I left you.”

“I did,” John admits, not taking his eyes off of him. You’re a fucking menace, Ben remembers screaming in his face, fisting the fabric his shirt in his hands. Cooper doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t offer up an apology, merely waits for Ben to get a hold of himself. Eventually, the shaking subsides, leaving only a faint ringing in his ears.

“And yet,” Ben starts when he trusts his vocal cords won’t betray him, “yet you sit there like nothing happened? Trying to give me advice?”

“I’m trying to look out for you,” Cooper says. Ben can’t help but laugh, humourless and disbelieving, because that’s just rich. “I’ve heard talk. Crooks, cops—”

“Fuck you,” Ben all but spits, the fire inside of him rekindled. That is not a conversation he is having. “Like there is anything I have left to learn from you. If I need pills, I’ll be sure to give you a call, though.”

“You may not want to hear it from me, but you need to hear it,” Cooper continues, choosing to ignore his remark. “That anger you’re carrying? It’s poison.” He rubs a hand over his mouth, looking haggard and fraught. When he shifts in his seat, Ben can just barely make out the clattering of pills in his pocket. It’s that moment that reminds Ben of the real reason he left—staying with John meant ending up exactly like him. The one price Ben was not—is not—willing to pay. “I’ve seen it turn good cops into crooks.”

“Maybe I’ve got reasons to be angry,” Ben challenges. How can Cooper sit there and spare lectures on character, when he’s been spending years disappearing into his uniform and his addiction.

“Yeah, well, get in line!” Cooper barks in the same tone he used on patrol, real irritation coming through. “Grow up and take some responsibility. The world doesn’t owe you a damn thing, kid. You need to figure out how not to let it swallow you whole.”