Sense of Place

I have a black belt in sarcasm, and my wit is like lightning.

You know what a sense of place is?” Cooper nodded. “It’s when the place you’re in feels like home. Where you’re at peace.” I nodded. “That’s exactly right.” Cooper looked around. “This place?” I shook my head. “No.” His voice kind of squeaked. “Me?” I nodded and grinned. “You’re my sense of place, Cooper.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Do you have some tough-guy persona I haven’t seen yet?” “Absolutely,” he said brightly. “I have a black belt in sarcasm, and my wit is like lightning.

You’d better be thinking of me when you smile like that,” Cooper said, now standing beside me. I hadn’t heard him come into the kitchen. I bumped his hip with mine. “Of course I’m thinking about you.” “Then why aren’t you hard?” he asked, looking pointedly at my crotch. Before I could say anything, he said, “They have pills now, for old guys who can’t get hard.

Oh, shut up,” I grumbled. “I suck at cooking and you know it.” He got a glazed, dreamy look on his face and after a while, he said, “I’m sorry, you mentioned sucking and I got distracted. I didn’t hear a word after that.” I rolled my eyes and walked into the kitchen, but he called out, “Your cooking is fine, Tom. But your sucking skills are your true talent.

What’s PSA?” “Prostate test.” “Prostate?” Cooper asked, looking a little miffed. “I hope he bought you dinner first.

It’s about time I spent time on what’s really important.” “Well, work, then dinner, then you can do what’s really important.” Then he added, “You know I’m what’s important, don’t you? I meant that you can do me.

I’ll always be your big spoon.” He snorted. “Unless I’m being the big spoon. Then you’ll be my little spoon.” “Always.

Cooper fell back onto his back. “Jesus, Tom. Don’t ask me to marry you when I’m mad. Fuck.