sexualtourettes | For Danica

For Danica

Since he'd been there, Coop had come to realize that there were two kinds of spontaneous gifts given by the Island: the good kind, and the kind that made people want to curl up in a fetal position and cry.

The only reason he wasn't currently in tears probably had something to do with the fact that, this time, the bad kind of gift had come with complimentary booze. A giant bottle of it.

It also came with a bike taxi, complete with streamers and 'Just Married' sign attached to the back, just in case the suit he'd found in his room wasn't enough of a slap in the face. Or the ring.

A fucking ring.

He was seated in the back of the rickshaw now, fingers curled around the neck of the bottle of champagne, wearing the new suit jacket he'd tried on to get a feel for the fit. The ring was a heavy weight in his pocket, but it didn't compare to the one he felt crushing his chest.

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"Shotgun wedding?" Danica guessed, appearing alongside the rickshaw and lifting to her toes to peek inside. She had already perused the outside, including the sign, and it was obvious her interest was piqued.

The only reason she didn't sound bitter with twisted jealousy was because of how unlikely it was that another woman had actually married Fitch. It wasn't the improbability of it happening in the space of a few hours that made her so sure; it was more to do with the fact that this was Fitch...

He was mid-drink, huge bottle obscuring his view of Danica when she spoke. Cheeks puffed, champagne bubbles tickling the back of his throat, Coop shook his head sullenly once the bottle was lowered.

"So what do you think it means?" She asked with genuine curiosity, holding up her hand to be helped up into the rickshaw. In heels her size it wasn't the safest of manoeuvres. "There's a missus Fitch back home now?"

"How should I know? I'm here," he said, sounding the slightest bit bitter about the fact as he helped her up. "I don't know which is worse: finding out that my moms were getting divorced or that I'm probably getting married."

Not being there for either one sucked all the same.

"I bet the bitch is blond," Danica mused aloud, her sympathy taking a back seat. She perched next to him in the rickshaw and surveyed the view with a lofty air. "One of those things does far more for your reputation than the other."

"You don't even know her." Neither did he, but he still felt the need to defend her since she wasn't around to do it herself.

"I'm sitting in a bike taxi with streamers, drinking out of a champagne bottle. What about this picture makes it seem like I'm worried about my reputation?"

"Alright, maybe she's ginger," Danica conceded. It was an unsavory thought but she wouldn't put it past him.

"What happened to Dr Fitch Cooper, one of the top 25 doctors in Manhatten?" She air-quoted, trying to save them both from him feeling sorry for himself. "If looks could cure..." Et cetera, et cetera. "Reputation's your thing."

"I wasn't defending her hair color..." Besides, even if she was a complete bitch, Danica was hardly the person to comment on it.

"Wouldn't being a good doctor be my thing if I made a top twenty-five list for it?" Not that the billboards weren't nice, but they existed for a reason, and that reason wasn't just because he was good looking.

"If it makes you feel better, you're probably top five here," Danica pointed out in the hope it might be enough to knock Fitch out of his funk.

She gestured at the champagne bottle, leaving her hand out for it. "Yes, please." It didn't matter that he hadn't offered her any.

"Top five at prescribing sunscreen and slapping band-aids on skinned knees?" He could see more action in one shift at All Saints than he had in his entire time there on the Island.

Top three actually might have made him feel better...

Talking another pull from the bottle, he held it possessively against his chest before eventually relinquishing his hold on it.

Every year there was some kind of island catastrophe that resulted in multiple people in the clinic but even Danica had to admit the other 364 days of the year were immensely dull.

Between rocking up half-dead from the caves, getting attacked in the forest and going into surprise labor, she was probably one of the more exciting residents from a medical perspective.

"If you don't enjoy it, look for something else to do," she suggested, taking a sip from the bottle. Or he could do what she did - absolutely nothing.

"I'm not good at anything else. I spent more time in the ER than at home most weeks." That wasn't a complaint, just a fact. No rest for one of the top twenty-five. And no social life. Not that he actually blamed the job for the lack of one of those.

"I don't suppose you have any suggestions?"

Danica looked at him for a moment, liquid sitting in her mouth before she forced it down in a gulp. "You're actually asking me?" she checked, surprise clearly evident in both tone and expression. Few people actually asked for her opinion on anything; she usually just ended up foisting it on them.

"Yes?" Coop replied, fiddling with the cuff of his jacket. Shitty circumstances aside, the thing really did fit like a glove.

"So?"

How the fuck should Danica know? She didn't exactly have any experience in giving careers advice.

"Spend more time in bed looking pretty?" she suggested, passing the bottle back to him. "Or teach medicine." They didn't offer that at the school, she knew that much. "Or join the IPD but I would have to stop sleeping with you. I vote option one."

"Isn't the IPD just as busy as the medical staff?" Meaning not that busy at all. They did patrol, but that was just like a basic, uneventful clinic duty on foot.

Training more doctors was definitely out.

"Ugh." He took another long drink. "Keep thinking."

"Open a daddy daycare," Danica mused aloud, lounging back in her seat and spreading her arms along the back. "Build a hut. Become a stripper." She wasn't sure what Fitch wanted from her. There was hardly an abundance of choice. "Make shit and trade it on a market stall."

He didn't even live in a hut himself, why the hell would he want to build one?

"Stripper, huh?" Coop mused, lifting the bottle once again.

"Yeah. Go shake your thing for my brother and his boyfriend." And umpteen other pervy men who lazed about in there. "Or you could aim really high and become a bike taxi man." She gestured around them at the unsightly vehicle. "You have the means."

Now that she was properly looking at it and looking at him, a question sprung to mind that she suddenly couldn't ignore. "It's a shame there's no wedding invitation or any photos. How do you even know you were marrying a woman?" Desperate times, desperate measures. His moms set the example, after all.

With a smug smile, Coop reached into his pocket and pulled out the blue ring box, wiggling it inches in front of he face. "Boom!"

It wasn't as if he'd just produced a picture of him standing next to some super hot dream woman or anything, but when he flipped the lid open, it was clearly a ring meant to sit on a fairly dainty finger. "Blue box. Small ring. Tooootally a woman."

Danica didn't even try to hide the fact that she was impressed but she did it more out of respect for beautiful jewelry than for him.

"Wow, Fitch." Her gaze didn't leave the box. "What a lucky lady."

"I know, right?" He agreed, flipping the box around so he could get a better look at the ring himself. "A doctor on the top twenty-five and a Tiffany's ring. Can you say jackpot?"

Danica pretty much thought of herself as the jackpot too but her reasoning was more along the lines of: her name was Danica Talos. That would have been enough back home.

"Original You is totally kicking Island You's ass." And if anyone knew what that felt like, it was her.

"Don't put yourself down like that," Coop said, reaching over to pat her shoulder in comfort. "I'm sure you're every bit as pretty as she is."

Danica hadn't meant it as an insult to herself but now Fitch had gone and said that, she might as well take advantage of the situation.

When he reached over, she leaned in like lightning and caught his mouth with hers. It was pretty fierce at first but she soon turned the kiss into something softer, deeper and just a little bit sweeter.

"I'd be prettier if I had that ring," she muttered, kissing him again before he could answer. He needed time to consider it, after all. And she needed time to persuade him.

Coop hadn't actually needed much time to consider anything, really, ready to fork the ring over almost instantly. Until he remembered it wasn't just another pack of Pop-Tarts or Ho Hos he was about to hand over.

"It's a wedding ring," he murmured against her lips. "We aren't wed... Ing.'

If anyone saw them right now, they might assume differently, given where they were sat and how Coop was dressed. Whilst Danica was concerned more than most with what other people thought, the image was so ridiculous that it barely bothered her.

She let her fingertips run over the now-faded bite marks on his neck before pulling her hand away and wiggling her fingers. "Semantics," she whispered after one more kiss.

That was a pretty freaking huge semantic, and as good a kisser as Danica was, he wasn't completely sure it was worth a diamond ring.

Coop's eyes stayed shut for a moment longer, rolling the box over in his hand as he considered it.

Lips pursed, eyes opened again, he slowly began offering the box out to Danica before swiftly pulling it back. "Shit. No. Okay, okay. No, here, take it," he said, offering her the box again, grimacing just the tiniest bit.

Like taking candy from a baby. That was the first thought that ran through Danica's mind when he held out the box to her. If she were honest, she'd expected to have to work a little harder for it but she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Her smile was genuine at least, eyes sparkling almost as much as the ring when she removed it from the box and slipped it on her finger.

She let out a little noise of excitement. "It fits. It fits." If there was one thing Danica could still appreciate, it was beautiful shiny and - most importantly - expensive things. "It's like it was made for me."

"You and anyone else who happens to have a size six finger," Coop replied. Because even if their versions of New York just so happened to be the same version, it was pretty unlikely that Danica was actually the woman that ring had been meant for back home.

"You're welcome."

"Way to make me feel special, Coop."

Despite his comment, almost nothing could remove the look of delight from her face. This day had just gotten considerably better. Definitely worth getting up for.

She slipped the hand she wasn't currently admiring onto his knee. "I'm in love with it already. Thank you."

"At least one of us gets to walk away with something positive out of the situation," he said. He really wished it could have been him, though.

"And I get booze." And a bike...

"And me in a good mood for the rest of the day." Who could put a price on that?

"Only a day?" It was Tiffany, not Kay Jewelers; he thought that deserved at least a week.

"Maybe more," Danica conceded, giving him a pat on his knee. "We'll see." Just to prove her good mood was actual real, she added, "By the way, I like your suit. It really adds to the 'jackpot' look."

Coop smiled, glancing down over his new jacket and rubbing at his sleeve.

"You should get new jewelry more often." Not because she necessarily deserved it, but because he thought maybe the Island deserved more of this side of Danica.

"That's why I have you." It was now, anyway. Fitch had raised the bar, so Danica was fully expecting him to live up to it in the future.

If he was lucky, he would have caught a glimpse of her smile before she left another kiss on his lips.

"Let's go." She took the bottle in one hand and his hand in the other, standing and moving to climb back down to earth. "Married men turn me on."

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