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it's a beautiful day for a neighbor
It's been one hell of a Saturday, and it's not even noon yet.
He'd been woken up nearly at the crack of dawn by a petite pair of hands--quickly followed by a larger, stronger pair--in bed this morning and the past couple hours had consisted of the kind of vigorous activity Coop can't get out of playing basketball or going to the gym. He'd met the married couple, Sophie and Luka, during his time abroad in France nearly six years ago and when he'd decided to return to Siren Cove, he'd invited them to visit anytime. They'd accepted his offer and every third week in July, Coop takes a few days off from work--aside from emergency calls, of course--to spend some quality time with his friends.
He waves goodbye to them now with the promise of seeing them again next year as their cab pulls off the curb in front of his house. He waves until the car turns a corner and then he drops his arm to his side, rolling his neck and shoulders with a satisfied sigh and smile before offering a wave to a small group of people who pass. It takes him a moment to understand why he's getting stares as they walk by until he looks down and remembers he's not wearing much in the way of any actual clothing, save for the pair of itty bitty briefs that are really just a courtesy anyway.
He gives the group a salute, holding back a laugh at the way a couple of them trip over their own feet before they correct themselves in a hurry, and shifts his attention to the next person who approaches with a bright grin.
"Beautiful day, isn't it?"
[OOC: Be a neighbor, be coming over for a visit, or just be passing by!]
He'd been woken up nearly at the crack of dawn by a petite pair of hands--quickly followed by a larger, stronger pair--in bed this morning and the past couple hours had consisted of the kind of vigorous activity Coop can't get out of playing basketball or going to the gym. He'd met the married couple, Sophie and Luka, during his time abroad in France nearly six years ago and when he'd decided to return to Siren Cove, he'd invited them to visit anytime. They'd accepted his offer and every third week in July, Coop takes a few days off from work--aside from emergency calls, of course--to spend some quality time with his friends.
He waves goodbye to them now with the promise of seeing them again next year as their cab pulls off the curb in front of his house. He waves until the car turns a corner and then he drops his arm to his side, rolling his neck and shoulders with a satisfied sigh and smile before offering a wave to a small group of people who pass. It takes him a moment to understand why he's getting stares as they walk by until he looks down and remembers he's not wearing much in the way of any actual clothing, save for the pair of itty bitty briefs that are really just a courtesy anyway.
He gives the group a salute, holding back a laugh at the way a couple of them trip over their own feet before they correct themselves in a hurry, and shifts his attention to the next person who approaches with a bright grin.
"Beautiful day, isn't it?"
[OOC: Be a neighbor, be coming over for a visit, or just be passing by!]
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He takes a small step back then another, beckoning her with the curve of a finger. "Come on, I don't bite, only some of my patients do."
He realizes he could totally be coming off as sleazy right now but the thing is, as little as he knows about Raleigh, he wonders what it would be like to get to know her better every time she comes dashing in and out of his office. She's got a sort of positive energy that he can't quite explain but very much appreciates--he's being honest when he says she's radiant, in more ways than one--and the fact that she walks with that limp and had gone through whatever happened to her the couple weeks she'd been out of sight but still manages to be standing here right now says a lot, at least to Coop.
"I can cook," he promises. "I can do like, pasta or burgers or pizza, my kitchen is fully stocked. Breakfast! Brunch. It's totally brunchtime, if you're into that kind of thing."
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"I hope you don't bite. I don't know the last time you had your shots." Apparently whatever it was that'd just sort of... blanked in her brain was mostly fixed, because she'd abruptly realised what the right tone was, with him. She fell into it easily, and it was the same wry humor that she previously only really found with Levi, Spencer, and Joel. Her gait's not exactly even as she follows him, but it's not the worst he's seen it since she's not been on her feet for the last six hours. "You have dogs? I'd guess they have a lot to say, but it's mostly 'hey, you gonna eat that?' I mean, if it's anything like the dogs I've met."
With everything that happened, she's not been hanging by the docks so much, spending time with Alfredo while Jason's been out at sea. She misses him - the dog, mostly, because Jason'd been so busy and with what happened it sort of seemed like it was just a flash in the pan thing - so she's actually excited to meet Coops' dogs.
"Funny story," she says with a grin. "I can cook, too. So... I guess, whatever you feel like eating, and... if you want, I can make something?" It's really rare that somebody offers to feed her, and she can't stop the way her mouth quirks into a smile.
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He laughs again at the comment about shots, shooting her a bemused look that really just reads seriously? as he leads her to the front door. If first impressions--well, first impressions that last longer than a few seconds--are anything to go by, she's got a cute sense of humor and obviously isn't deterred by abusing the fact that he's a vet for her own terrible personal gain--that is, her jokes.
"I can't believe you're making dog jokes to me already, it's been like, six seconds since we've said more than a sentence to each other," he says with a grin that shows just how not put out he is by any of this. He's always happy to click with someone, it makes him feel good to know that he can put a smile on someone's face, whether it's for saving a pet or just saying hello. "And excuse me, I'm pretty sure I offered first, so why don't you take a break from Kitchen Terminator mode and at least let me try to impress you."
When they reach the door, he holds it open for her and reaches for a zip-up hoodie that's hanging on the coat rack just inside the door. "Kitchen's that way," he tells her, pointing in some direction that really isn't helpful for someone who hasn't been in the house before, but he's too busy reaching for the pair of jeans that had been unceremoniously dumped in a pile on the floor last night. "Take a look. You tell me what you want, I'll make it happen."
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"Deal. You specify, and I'll decide if I should deliver over fresh pastries." She's teasing him, although it's entirely possible she will drop off fresh pastries, especially considering the fact that you pass his house on the way to Levi's. She walks into the house, retorting to the bit about the dog jokes. "You're a vet, I'm surprised they didn't make you take Dog Jokes 201 in col....lege." She pauses, blinking at his house, her brows shooting up.
"This is beautiful," she says quietly, because it is, but then she actually looks back at him when he says he wants to impress her, and her brows shoot up in clear surprise. She's not really a person to be impressed - not like that, not by people, but... "Okay, then, I will take a break and sit down and let you cook. Won't raise a finger unless you ask, except to wash the dishes." She smiles, and she walks past him to where he told her the kitchen was, and she just sort of stopped and stared at it.
"You promise you'll make it happen?" She says it sort of faintly, and it's because she's frankly overwhelmed, which is why once he answers - no matter how he answers, she continues, "Because I want your kitchen." Quartz countertops, chef's ovens, space and light and big counters and god she wishes she was less serious when she said she wanted it, and she knew she was being weird but she ran her fingers over the counter and it was perfect.
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He rounds the island countertop that sits in the middle of kitchen and leans against it, watching the way Raleigh so genuinely looks to be in awe of the space, and his smiles softens when she brushes her fingers over the counter. He's gotten varied reactions to his house, mostly impressed gasps that come with questions about how much a vet really makes in a year, and he's never minded those. Most of the people who react that way are only around for one night anyway and the ones who are more tactful tend to be the ones that stick around longer.
It doesn't surprise him that Raleigh is so taken with the kitchen above everything else--the view, the size of the place as a whole, everything--and it tells him that she's not here for the bullshit. The bells and whistles, he doesn't think they matter much to this girl, and he's always respected that quality in a person.
"You can have it but you can't wash the dishes, either. This is a hands-off dining experience, at least as far as the preparation and clean-up parts go. I know, I'm asking for a lot."
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She finally looks back at him when he leans against the island, and she actually can't stop the way her cheeks stain red, and she looks away. 'Sorry, I just- It's a really nice kitchen. You did a good job putting it together." And she could tell that he used it, too; not that he was necessarily a five star chef, but he wasn't one of those people that made her sad who would make ramen in the microwave while having a twenty thousand dollar kitchen.
"Guess I'll need to take a rain check on the kitchen - I don't have anywhere big enough to put it. Thanks, though, I appreciate the thought." She smiled as she said it, and then her brows arched higher when he tells her that she can't help clean up, either.
It was... weird. That's weird, for her.
Her brows furrow just a little. "What should I do? I mean... can I help at all?" She actually looks concerned, and her hand (which had, yes, been stroking the countertop edge again without her even thinking about it) pauses. "I can't remember the last time I literally did nothing towards a meal."
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"Nowhere to put my entire kitchen? You're going to have come better prepared next time." He shoots her a wink before opening the fridge and peering at what's inside, calling out random ingredients to her. "Okay, I've got... Christ, way too much. There's some romaine, baby tomatoes, grilled chicken, I know I've got salmon in the freezer. Pesto, fresh mozzarella, avocado." He leans back to arch an eyebrow at her with a devious smirk. "I've got grapes. I could feed you some grapes." He turns back to the fridge without waiting for an answer. "Or whatever, you can take a look in here if you want."
He shuts the door before taking a few steps closer to her and bending so that his elbows rest on the counter. "You're not doing nothing, you are existing and therefore providing me with much better company than the nobody I would have been eating with. That is definitely doing something."
It is, actually, because his dates don't usually stick around long enough for breakfast and that's not often a problem for anyone involved. He has enough friends in his contact list that ensure he's never actually wanting for company but Coop's always found it more exciting when he seems to click quickly with someone new.
"So right, nowhere to put the kitchen, where do you even live? I'm guessing it's not at the bakery, you don't sleep on this giant thing of dough?"
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All the food sounds delicious, and honestly - if Joel didn't cook what he did, she'd have been salivating just from the list. She'd spent a long time eating bakery food or rice and beans, but Joel brought dinner or they went grocery shopping, and both of them just bought more than either of them could eat on purpose, it seemed like.
"I'm up for literally anything," she assures him, her hands raised like she's absolving herself of the decision. He comes back, though, and her brows rise as he leans on the counter. She can't stop herself from smiling, although there's a slight eyeroll there that just sort of... is there.
"Giant dough waterbed sounds... sticky. And suffocating, and... eugh. moldy, eventually." She wrinkles her nose, but then answers his question. "Right now, I'm staying at the Waters house - do you know Spencer?" She paused. "He was... kind enough- nice enough, that he's letting me stay." She clears her throat. "Besides that, I was at the boarding for a while, it's not- I mean." She waves her hand, indicating don't worry about it. "He's already got a kitchen, so there's not really the room for another one - especially not one like this."
She looks around again, and sighs, before she abruptly looks back at him, and she smiles. "Not that there's anything wrong with his kitchen, it's just- I mean, please tell me you throw dinners or something if you've got a space like this."
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He mirrors her wrinkled nose with his own before letting out a laugh. "You're right, nix the doughy waterbed, that's not buddies. And I've decided I'm making us a salad, I have the sudden craving for something light and delicious." He holds a finger up as if in warning, his expression suddenly serious. "Not that anything I could have made wouldn't have been delicious, let's just be clear on that." He eases back into a bright smile before turning back to the fridge to reach for some of the ingredients he'd spotted earlier.
"And shit, yeah, I do know Spencer. Not super well but we graduated together, I was close with his brother, we were both on the football team." He's got an armful of food--mango, chicken, ginger, avocado, salad greens, limes--and sets them on the counter before looking up at her, still smiling though it's with a hint of sadness. "You know what happened, right? That he, you know, passed away a couple years ago?" He gives a one-shouldered shrug before pulling open a cabinet behind him, grabbing some olive oil and soy sauce to add to his pile. "Spencer's a good guy. People still think-- Well, sometimes people in this town think a lot of bullshit, but he's a good guy. And I'm sure he's got a good kitchen."
He skips over that part about staying at the boarding because she seems to not want to make a big deal of it and even though it surprises him a little, he respects that. She's got a better set-up now anyway, though he can't even remotely imagine Spencer Waters, who'd always been so quiet and so very much the opposite of his brother, living with someone who seems as chatty and bright as Raleigh.
He reaches for his cutting knife and board, positioning the mango over it before he starts slicing. "Dinners, yes. Or something, also yes. My cousin's also a terrible influence so between the two of us, there's never a dull moment at this place. I've got a birthday coming up in a few weeks, actually, I'm trying to decide between throwing it at Watersong or just having it here. You're already invited, by the way, which now means you have to offer your input."
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"What, you mean you don't want a sticky, doughy, yeasty, moldy waterbed?" Laughing, she shook her head and leaned her own elbows on the table. "Uh-huh. You're totally not taking the easy route just because I'm so damned intimidating, right? I strike fear into the hearts of men, that sort of thing? But, you know. With eclairs." She's smiling, and it's without reservation, it's in her eyes that she's genuinely enjoying herself.
That is, until he brings up Spencer's brother, and Raleigh swallows thikly, her brows furrowing. "I know what happened, yeah," she was quiet when she said it, and she looks up in surprise when he says Spencer's a good guy/i>. That's the moment that Coop got himself from new friend to If you need anything...
"He is a good guy." She says it with absolute conviction, and no hesitation. "He deserves a lot more than what he's gotten from the town, from what i hear.*
Watching him slice the mango, she could see he knew what he was doing, but then he start 4she may have had,. "I'm already invited?" Her brows are up in her hairline at surprise, and that's derailed any other thoughts that might have been in her .
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Of course, that concentration is fully destroyed at Raleigh's dough bed description, and he gives her a look of mock indignation. "Seriously? Yeasty, seriously, you had to go there?" He picks up a piece of the mango and throws it at her with a grin, shaking his head as he clears the cutting board and sets the limes on it. "For the record, you're super intimidating, okay? Like, I'm definitely shaking in-- well, I'm not wearing boots right now but rest assured, if I was? I'd be shaking in them."
Easy banter is truly one of Coop's favorite things, and he can see himself fast-tracking this girl straight to the top of his Contacts list because it's been however long since they'd exchanged more than a few words, and he's already having a great time. It's cemented when she says that Spencer deserves more than what he's been dealt so far because it means she knows exactly what he's been through and even though it sometimes makes him physically sick to think about it, he nods his agreement.
"I... Well, the last time I really talked to him was at the funeral, that was after he got released and everything. Told him I was in his corner and shit, but we haven't really exchanged more than a few hellos here and there since. I don't know, maybe anything else just brings back too many memories."
He shrugs again as he sweeps the limes off the board with the knife and works at wiping the board clean before getting to work on the chicken. "Anyway, yes, you're invited. I don't know why you look so surprised, I consider us very close now that you've practically groped my kitchen."
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"You might want to start with your clothes being alive, though. Sounds like more of a problem then the escaping." She rubs her nose because she can feel that her face is warm, and can feel herself blush, and it's irritating.
That, though, is forgotten when he talks about the bread, and she explodes in laughter. "My entire life is there. I live there. Yeast and bread dough, population, me. Except when I'm making puff pastry, then it's just me and butter having a good time." She shakes her head, and she bats away the mango with a laugh just because it's flying at her, but then she takes it and pops it into her mouth, wiggling her eyebrows just once as she chews.
"Guy like you? Six feet tall and ridiculously in shape? I can totally see why you'd be terrified of me. It's the height, isn't it? Scary things come in small packages?" This? This is easy, and it's the only sort of thing that she's fallen into with Levi, before, but she likes the fact that she can forget all her troubles.
And then they talk about Spencer, and she's sobered, looking down at the countertop for a second. "He's pretty much- He's pretty- I think he's sort of on edge, always, because people are assholes and this town is pretty... self-righteous." She clears her throat. 'Present company excluded, obviously."
The subject moves on and she's glad - not because she doesn't care about Spencer, but because she does, and she wishes she could do more, and she's so angry on his behalf. So mad at everyone, and she wants to shake them, for the pain he's been through and still subjected to.
Her brows rose when he talked about the invitation. "Hey, now. Don't talk about our relationship that way. It's not groping. We have something special." The corner of her mouth lifts in a smile. "I mean, she's already promised to run away with me, but I just don't have the space. That's love, right?" She actually moves to poke his calf with the toe of her shoe.
It's her birthday, today. She hasn't told a soul - she doesn't want to make a fuss about it, and there's sort of that thing where she wonders about her mom, about her brother - if they miss her, and she 's trying to figure out what to do with that, still. Still, that's why she's taken today off.
"You should do something nice. Whatever makes you happiest." And she's not joking, her words quiet and simple, said with a definitive air. "If it's people in your house, do that, if cleaning is a pain in the ass, the Watersong. Whichever sort of makes you feel best." She nods once, like that's the answer, and she chews on her lip. "So, if, say, somebody wanted to make you pastry for your birthday, and, say, she was asking you what your favorite was... what would you say?"
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He wants Raleigh to like him and keep liking him, not just because he can already picture what it would be like to kiss her but because she's genuine and earnest and all those things that can be so hard to find in a first impression of a person. He makes no apologies for himself, and he gets the sense that Raleigh is real enough to be the same way. Maybe he's wrong--he's been wrong before, and he'd paid for it--but he likes to think he's a good judge of character, and Raleigh's character is one he'd like to see stick around for more than just a day.
"Not true of all scary things but yeah, you're on the right track. I have this one client, chihuahua? Cutest little thing you've ever seen but goddamn, she's a monster after she gets her shots. Nearly bit my entire hand off once, I swear, she's a demon." His gaze falls on something just beyond Raleigh and his slicing comes to a stop as a fond smile curves his lip. He nods for her to look behind her at the pair of dogs that have wandered into the kitchen, and he can't help the soft laugh that escapes him.
"They always show up when there's scraps to be had," he says. "The American bulldog there, that's Sunny. He's been with me since high school, isn't that right, boy?" Sunny grunts as if in response and Coop shakes his head, mouthing an apology to Raleigh. "He's not great with his manners, old dog and new tricks and all that, right? Lucy, though, she's a sweetheart. Lab retriever mix, gentle as a lamb. And weirdly enough, they're like, total best friends. Also mine. We're the three best friends that anybody could have."
The dogs approach Raleigh, sniffing at her feet before Sunny loses interest and heads straight for Coop and Lucy lifts herself onto her hind legs so she can rest her front paws against Raleigh's hip. Coop's smile widens as he drops a piece of grilled chicken to the floor for Sunny to work on before returning to his cooking duties. "She likes you, she's friendly but she'll only jump up on people she likes. You do quick work on almost the whole household but don't mind Sunny, he always takes forever with the warming up."
He bends down to grab a mixing bowl and gets to work on combining the oil, ginger, and soy sauce before squeezing the lime juice in. "Anyway, yeah, the stick up Spencer's ass is less of a stick and more of a 'fuck you' to everyone who's ever treated him like shit, which is a lot, and I can't really blame him for being on edge. Far as you and my kitchen go, at least have her say it to my face, okay? No notes. I don't do notes. And if--if--someone, who even knows who, was lookin' to find out what my favorite pastry is, I'd have to say it's the Napoléon, straight from Le Grenier à Pain."
He says it with a near perfect French accent, one he's maintained even all these years after being so far removed from Paris. "This someone's got a lot to live up to, but I will very gladly accept any and all attempts to recreate what is seriously the most divine thing I've ever had the pleasure of putting in my mouth."
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"Your dogs are adorable," she says with a breathless grin, and she's still scratching Lucy's coat as she looks down at Sunny. "I'm not worried. He'll come 'round." And if he doesn't, bygones would be bygones, and she wouldn't fuss - she'd still bring them treats. "It's defense," she says quietly, "And I think it's valid, you know? It's totally valid." She sighs quietly as she says that, and she shakes her head.
"I'll advise her to skip the notes. She doesn't have hands, so I'm guessing that's not a problem?" She smiles, and then he says he likes Napoléons, and she nods - the accent, it's... she's only seen it online, she's never really been anywhere but Tennesee, Boston, and here, but it's perfect, and it's sort of the first time that she's wondered if she could actually recreate it.
"Well, I always shoot for divine," it's a quiet sort of confession; a little weird, for her, because she's honest. She's honest, and oddly she's actually having to think about the fact that she's actually trying to do these things, and she has no idea if she's doing them right and for the first time there's someone who will know.
At least, he seems like he'll be genuine and honest. "I guess we'll just see how that goes, then? I may just stop by with some attempts, see what you like?"
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Still, it's always a good test of how far a friendship can go.
He nods as he gathers the salad greens and throws them in the bowl, grabbing a wooden mixing fork as he tosses the contents of the bowl. "It is. It's valid. He deserves better than that." He sighs to himself, ready to move forward from the subject, before brightening with a glance around the kitchen. "Touche. No hands, also no feet. Which means..." He pauses, tilting his head as if deep in thought before starting a slow nod.
"Yeah, you know what, I think that means you'll just have to come around more often. I'll leave you to your torrid love affairs, that's totally fine, but you'll have to pay penance by taste-tasting my food in the backyard with me. It'll be a hardship but I think we can get through it together. The view will help."
He's flirting, he can't help himself even if he's genuinely digging Raleigh's vibe. She can hold her own, though, she's already proven that she can roll with the punches, and he finds few quality more attractive in a person than a good sense of humor.
"I also always shoot for divine," he tells her with a flash of a cheeky smile. "And you can stop by with as many attempts as you want as often as you want, believe me, you won't hear complaints from my end."
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"Coop, that is the weakest leap of logic I've ever heard. Did you even try?" She leans her chin on her hand as she looks at him, and she leans forward and snags another piece of mango that's escaped and is sitting on one of the cutting boards and pops it in her mouth. "You cook, I bring as many napoleans as you're willing to eat without putting your hard work at risk-" Because yes, she had seen what he looks like, thanks, she's not blind, "and it's a deal. Experiments and cooking and I get to see more of my one true love. Your kitchen." She paused, looking down at them for a second. "And your dogs. What can I say, I'm not a one-love sort of girl, Lucy's pretty much stolen my heart and run off with it already."
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Another laugh slips past him, this one more amused with himself than anything else because yeah, he can admit that he's totally full of shit sometimes. Except he hadn't been totally full of shit just now, they've known each other for all of three seconds but she's already sassy as hell and she's nice to his dogs and those are two qualities he always likes in a person. Also, napoleons. He won't forget the napoleons.
"I'm talking about the food you're about to eat, by the way," he says with a wink. He'll flirt, but he doesn't like to be gross about it. He knows he walks a fine line between confident and cocky but he tries to be as real with people as he can. He works hard and plays just as hard, he makes no apologies for it, and the people who've accepted that are the ones who have stayed in his life. He already kind of hopes Raleigh will be one of them.
The last thing he needs to do is add the chicken, but he grabs a couple plates for them first before doling out the appropriate portion from the mixing bowl onto each. He glances up at Raleigh, wiggling his eyebrows. "I hope you're prepared for this because this is the best salad you'll ever have, and I'm totally not talking it up way more than I should at all even though I'm not a professional chef and there's probably way better ones than this like ten feet from my house but that's beside the point, if you love Lucy and you love my kitchen, you will agree to my delusion."
He places the chicken slices carefully over the salad on one of the plates then nudges it toward her before doing the same for his own. He doesn't bother cleaning up just yet, he wants to know what she thinks, so he hands her a fork from his utensil drawer and crosses his arms over his chest as he watches carefully for a reaction.
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"I choose," she says as he doles out the salads, "To believe that the backyard taste-testing was for future meals because that way, I get to give you pastries and get the opinion of somebody who actually knows what they're supposed to be eating. I feel like I could give somebody here a Krispy Kreme, and they'd not be able to tell the difference." She smiles at him, leaning her chin on her hand as he winks, but then he asks if she's prepared, and she raises her eyebrows but she nods. "I got it. Thinking hat on, loving your dogs and kitchen, delusion in place."
She knows she's being watched, so she carefully stabs a bite of salad that's got a little bit of everything, and takes a bite- And it's good. It's really good, and she gets this look on her face--
There's a thing about Raleigh.
She likes food. She really likes good food, she likes the way it tastes, the way that flavors play together - but there's a problem. Food? Is expensive. She went from virtually every dollar she had going to her mother to being a broke college student, to living in a town where she'd lived on virtually only rice and beans and whatever she could get from the bakery for six months. Now, she lives with Joel and Spencer, and she's started eating regular meals, she's starting to actually have extra money to buy food and cook, but this?
She makes a face and a sound that she realises suddenly aren't quite appropriate, and it makes her actually turn red. Chewing and swallowing, her hand is in front of her mouth when she speaks. "Sorry- Sorry, it's good. You did good, it's good." She's still crimson as she looks studiously down at her salad because-- because she's missed flavor, but it's just all.... it's right. It's all right, the way he's put it together, the profile and the layers. It's good.