Hazards of Endearment || Part Three: Home
Pairing || Cooper Adams (Abbott?) / Female Reader
Warning || This is a slow-burn, dark romance. There will be lying, manipulation, infidelity, and eventual coercion and kidnapping in this fic. Cooper is not a good guy and brings out ugly sides of the reader's character. If that is problematic or upsetting to you, I encourage you to skip this one. In addition to that, the 'reader' in this fic is epileptic and there are mentions and depictions of grand mal seizures in this fic as well as allusions to parental mental abuse and munchausen's by proxy.
Tag List || @amethystblackkchaos @dirtylittlefairytales
There was something strangely comforting about being carried by him. It was like being a child again, carried to bed by your father or grandfather or uncle. Your weight easily buoyant in his arms as you drifted to sleep at his allowance.
It wasn’t long after he set off down the flatter part of the path that you fell asleep, lulled by the gentle swaying and rhythmic sound of boots crunching gravel. The steady breaths of the man carrying you as if you weighed no more than a backpack.
It was the best sleep you’d gotten in weeks and it wasn’t just because of the seizure you’d just had. As for what the reason for that was, you couldn’t be sure. Anything you guessed would just be conjecture.
You didn’t wake again until you heard your name being said in a gentle voice accompanied by a jostle of your shoulder. Your eyes flitted open to find him only a few inches away from you, his large hand cradling your cheek. His handsome face broke with a kind smile.
“There you are,” he said. “Was worried I was going to have to call an ambulance after all. You were out like a light.”
He leaned over you, unfastening your seat belt. You could smell the faint remnants of his aftershave and the barest tinge of perspiration. When you looked past his shoulder you saw your apartment building looming in the distance, the small windows glowing with yellow light against the twilight.
How late was it? How long had you’d been asleep?
And how did this guy know where you lived?
“I hope you don’t mind,” he said. “You looked so tired when I got you into the car I just took the liberty of checking the address on your driver’s license.”
“My ID? I don’t have a driver’s license, remember?” you said.
“Ah,” he said, backing away from you with an apologetic wrinkle to his brow; his lips tucking a little awkwardly. “Right. Sorry.”
“Don’t be, I’m just being pedantic,” you said. “Thank you for bringing me all the way back home…”
You paused trying to recall his name, realizing that you didn’t actually know it. You puzzled over how he figured out your name and then, with chagrin, realized he had gotten it from your ID. Obviously.
“Name’s Cooper Adams,” he said, offering you a hand. “You feel a little less wobbly after a nap?”
“Cooper,” you repeated as you took his hand. “You look like a cooper.”
He chuckled as he helped you down from your seat in his black SUV. “Yeah? How’s that?”
“I dunno–like you’re…a border collie made into a guy,” you said as you swayed on your feet a bit. He caught you and stabilized you.
“Easy,” he said. “Why don’t you let me carry you again?”
“No!” you said a little too quickly.
He blinked a little surprised by your insistent refusal.
“S-sorry–my neighbors. They’re nosy and they report everything to my mother,” you said. “I mean…it’s supposed to be for my safety and all, but my mother abuses the system. Makes them all think I’m one seizure away from needing a full-time caretaker. If they see me being carried by a strange man…”
He smiled, and you swore there was a bit of an edge to it. “Strange? I don’t think I’m that strange.”
“N-no! I don’t think you’re strange at all,” you insisted. “I just mean–”
“I’m kidding,” he said, placing his free hand on the curve of your shoulder and giving you a friendly jostle. “I understand overbearing mothers, believe me. At least let me walk you to your door. I’ve even got some of my bunker gear with me if you want me to look the part.”
“Bunker gear?” you asked.
“Ah, the firefighter suit–you know; yellow jacket and all that.”
“Would you wear that as a paramedic?” you asked.
“Do you really think they’d have the reasoning skills to analyze it that much?” he quipped back, quirking an eyebrow.
You looked up at the building and considered it. You didn’t see any of the worst of your neighbors peering out of their windows. You fiddled with your fingernail a little as you chewed on your lip.
You finally looked up at Cooper again and shrugged. “Can’t hurt, I guess.”
“Great. One second while I suit up,” he said. “Why don’t you just sit back in the passenger seat while you wait.”
He helped you back into the seat and, once sure you weren’t wobbling, he went to the hatchback of his SUV. You peered through the gap between the headrest and the seat as Cooper quickly pulled off his coat, then grabbed the neckline of his sweater.
Your heart leapt into your throat as you realized you might see the man shirtless, but as the sweater came off over his head, you realized he was wearing a navy blue t-shirt with the logo for the Philadelphia Fire Department.
“You always just wearing that stuff on your day off?” you asked.
His eyes flashed to yours and he smirked. “You always just watching strange men get changed?”
You felt your face heat and you looked away from him. “Touche,” you muttered begrudgingly.
He chuckled, but something pricked at the back of your neck. He didn’t answer your question. Silence fell between you, the only sounds the faint hiss of clothing being changed. You tried not to think too hard about the zipper you heard.
What were you doing? Talking to this guy like he could ever be into you. Aside from being at least ten years younger than him, he was wearing a damned wedding ring. You’d seen it.
But could you be blamed, really? For enjoying even a little flirtation? It wasn't as if your mother would ever let you actually date someone.
You rubbed your forehead as her words echoed in your head.
With your condition? You’re too vulnerable! The only men who would ever try to go after you are the ones who have something they want to get out of you. Even if you tried to hide it, they would find out soon enough.
It was only a few seconds before Cooper appeared before you again, fully decked out in his suit, his jacket remaining open and showing that well-fitted t-shirt. “Alright, illusion in place,” he said. “Ready for our ruse?”
“Ready,” you said, standing up a little slower this time.
He smiled and jerked his head over to your apartment building, as if saying lead the way.
You turned and started making your way to the apartment building. Really, it was more like a large home that had been converted into small studios, each one given brand new appliances and a fresh coat of paint as if that would replace the decrepit wiring that prevented you from running your air conditioner and your microwave at the same time. As if it would evict all of the mice making their own apartments in the walls.
The front door was always unlocked, you opened it and led him in.
The foyer sported some glum-looking blue-grey carpet. That kinda carpet they put in office buildings because they were supposedly stain-proof by virtue of being multiple shades of that morose looking blue-grey. Of course, there were plenty of stains left on it since the carpet was placed lord knows when.
The wainscoting on the walls had seen better days and the railing on the stairs was unstable at worst, obnoxiously creaky at best.
When you looked back at Cooper, he was scanning the space, his brows raised, his eyes squinting skeptically.
“You think it’s a dump,” you said.
“I didn’t say that,” he said, lifting his hands in mock surrender
“Yeah, you don’t have to. I can read it on your face,” you said. “Come on, my studio’s upstairs.”
You approached the stairs with him and as you started making your way up them, you felt the faint hover of Cooper’s hand ghost over the small of your back. When you looked back at him he shrugged.
He walked with you up the stairs and you waved at the door-bell cameras of the nosiest of your neighbors. You heard Cooper huff a breathy laugh and when you looked back at him, he gave you a knowing wink that left you feeling warm and tingly under your collar.
Just as you neared your door at the end of the hall, the one directly across from yours opened up and your neighbor stepped out, seemingly unperturbed by Cooper’s presence.
“Oh, you’re home,” he said. “Late night for you. And a paramedic? You didn’t have a seizure did you?”
“Good day to you too, Randal,” you said dryly.
Randal was an older man. Older than Cooper. He had some obsession with you, or maybe your mother. Or maybe both. You’d caught him going through your laundry in the shared laundry room, he’d made the odd inappropriate comment or two about your habits or your body. Even asked you about the subject of your virginity once.
He was also the number one ally of your overbearing mother.
You felt your body tighten up with discomfort, the same discomfort you were used to with Randal.
It always felt like he was leering over you. Like he was waiting for the chance for you to seize. For the chance to get his hands on your body when it was most vulnerable.
You inhaled to answer his barrage of questions, but you didn’t get a chance to.
You didn’t get a chance to because Cooper cut in.
“Actually, we’re just repaying a good turn where one was given to us,” he lied smoothly. “It’s not every day that a good samaritan reports an arsonist and hangs around to try and stamp a fresh forest fire out. We were really lucky she was there. I’d never hear the end of it from my wife if I let her take the bus home after preventing a major disaster.”
You openly balked at Cooper at the same time Randal did, though for a different reason.
That lie was…so convincing. So convincing that you almost believed it.
Randal looked at you, his wiry brows furrowing. “Don’t you think that was a little risky?” he asked. “With your fits, and all?”
You found yourself looking up at Cooper, as if seeking guidance from him. His focus was on Randal, though–his lips curved in a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s a strange way to thank someone for protecting you,” he said. “And you know, I think she’s pretty tired.”
Cooper looked down at you, his smile genuine now. “You were just telling me how exhausted you were, right?”
“R-right,” you said, nodding up at him and looking toward Randal. “Goodnight, Randal.”
You looked up at Cooper one last time and smiled. “Goodnight. Thanks for all your help,” you said, hoping he understood that you really did mean all of the help. From the seizure to dealing with Randal in an easy way.
“Sure thing,” he said. “Oh, and–”
He reached into the pocket of his gear and pulled out a little pink sticky note. It had a phone number hastily scrawled on it along with his name.
“If you ever have any issues–smell any gas leaks or have any concerns about fire code infractions, feel free to call me here. I’ll come right over,” he said.
“O-oh,” you said, wondering when he got the chance to prepare the little note. Wondering if he did it while he was changing by the car. “Thanks Cooper.”
He nodded. “Rest well,” he said, his eyes flicking over to your door. A silent encouragement for you to flee while Randal was busy being embarrassed.
“Thanks,” you said, turning and fumbling with your key a bit before letting yourself into your apartment and shutting the door behind you.
