Last Dance

Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: These boys belong to Lynch and Frost not to me. Honest!
Feedback: Yes, puleeeeeeze! It ain't the only reason I write, but it's the only reason I post. :-)

Summary: A short fill-in for the "gay bar" scene in "Dale Cooper: My Life, My Tapes". Thanks to Tam for reminding me of it. Sorry, this is fluff, no angst (please don't kill me Alison!) I promise to make him miserable next time for a long story!

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LAST DANCE
by DBKate,1999
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It was more or less a fantasy Albert Rosenfield had long held near and dear to his heart as a sign of all good things in an uncertain world. A fantasy in regard to his own special brand of Utopia, one that was shattered the moment he entered the lone gay bar located in a deep rural Idaho town aptly named "Cramp."

A fantasy that the disco era had ended at least a decade before.

But no, it was still alive and well, at least in this sad backwater burg, where the pounding rhythms of Earth, Wind and Fire and Madonna "mixes" thumped along in time to the gyrating male bodies that dominated the dancefloor.

Rosenfield sighed and looked around for Cooper. Made his way to the bar cautiously, making sure he presented himself as just another closet case on the make, still dressed in his Bureau "uniform" which made him more conspicuous than this type of undercover operation would warrant. Since it was a serial killer they were tracking, he wasn't about to put either one of their asses on the line, but he had information he knew couldn't wait.

Worked his way through the dancers, then over to the bar where his eye caught the sight of a young man dressed in black, one who nearly made his heart stop beating right where he stood. Slim, dark and beautiful beyond all things, Rosenfield could feel his mouth turn dry at the sight and wondered dimly if it were possible to fall in love at first glance.

All the blood in his brain ran due south and he asked himself how on earth he was going to explain this to Cooper, his new and sudden infatuation with a stranger who was probably half his age and one-tenth his IQ level. Utopia lost and found he thought, unable to tear his eyes away, even as the stranger turned around and beamed at him.

Felt his eyes nearly bulge from his head when he recognized the "stranger" immediately.

It was Cooper. Dressed in a snug black T-shirt, leather pants and a dazzling smile.

Jesus H. Christ. There went Rosenfield's agnosticism right out the door. Because if there was a man that stunning living on this green Earth, there just -had- to be a God, he thought, trying not to gape like some sort of besotted fool.

No such luck.

He leaned against the bar, keeping a discreet distance away, but unable to tear his eyes off of the amazing vision to his left.

Jesus H. Christ. He could see Cooper bite back his amusement and watched as he said a quiet goodnight to the fawning man next to him. Slid up next to Rosenfield, moving gracefully onto a vacated barstool, looking for all the world like a rent boy on the make, seeking some action with an older man, a business man maybe, one who might be able to take very, -very- good care of him, at least while the wife and kids were out of town.

Rosenfield swallowed hard, past a dry throat. "Buy you a drink gorgeous?"

Cooper slowly turned and smiled at him. "I'd love one."

Lord in heaven, even his -voice- had turned sultry, Rosenfield thought as he gave the bartender his order. A club soda with lime for Cooper and a double shot of single malt for himself. Passed the glass over with a wry smile, still trying to catch his breath. "I have some more results." Kept his features neutral; his voice low and hoped the cardiac arrest he'd felt coming on a moment before would eventually pass.

Cooper took a small sip of his drink and licked his lips. "Such as?"

"You're looking for a blue Ford Taurus, year nineteen eighty-seven. I have the carpet fiber manufacture date and the list of all dealerships selling that make including inventory printouts. Used dealership registers are incoming at o-six tomorrow morning. Have you had any luck at all?"

"Let's see," said Cooper thoughtfully. "I met a traveling salesman, two computer programmers and one former Eagle Scout. But that's it."

Rosenfield took a long swallow of scotch. "An Eagle Scout? I myself was thrown out of the Girl Scouts." Drily. "Didn't like the uniform."

Cooper grinned. "Green isn't your color."

"No, but black certainly seems to be yours." Rosenfield allowed himself an appraising glance up and down the slim body in front of him. "Remind me to buy you a few dozen pairs of these pants." Ran a finger over the smooth leather-covered outline of Cooper's hip. "To hell with that. Remind me to buy a goddamn herd of cows."

"Somehow I don't think this outfit would fit into the Bureau dress code, Albert." Impish look. "I can ask Gordon if you'd like."

Rosenfield grimaced. "No thanks. I don't want to spend three hours explaining why on earth you'd want to come every day wearing "slack weather chants." He ran his thumb along the delicate line of Cooper's cheek. What the hell, they -were- undercover in a gay bar after all. "So, tell me. Get any offers you couldn't refuse?"

Cooper kept smiling at him, with an oddly feline grin. "I was offered a trip to Hawaii." His voice turned a bit breathless as Rosenfield replaced the roving finger with his lips.

He nipped along Cooper's jaw, relishing the feel of smooth skin still smelling faintly of soap and aftershave. "Oh yeah? Well, all I can offer you is a trip to the local Motel Six." Brought Cooper's lips to his own, stroking his tongue between their soft warmth. "For tonight anyway." Delighted in the low moan received in reply and deepened the kiss, exploring smooth recesses, tasting the sharp tang of lime.

Cooper pulled back and stared at him, his eyes dilated, his lips wet and puffy with desire, shining brightly in the dull bar light. "Albert, for the life of me I can't imagine anyplace else I'd rather be."

"Good." He pulled Cooper off of the barstool and closer. Bit back a groan as their hips bumped sinuously, exposing twinned desire. Another kiss, this one ravishing and Rosenfield was certain he was going to lose what little what left of his gray matter.

And wasn't that just wonderful.

Cooper pulled away again, ignoring Rosenfield's soft protest. "We can dance if you'd like." Seductive glance, sultry voice, all of it so unlike Cooper's usual crisp, professional, downright eccentric demeanor.

Lord love the man, but Rosenfield had a reputation to uphold. "The day I dance to Donna Summer ..." he growled.

"... is the day I start working undercover in black leather," finished Cooper with that same beatific smile. "Besides, it's the last one of the night. I'm pretty certain they're closing up soon." He wrapped his arms around Rosenfield's waist, nuzzling his neck. "Just one, Albert. It's not a chance we get every day."

Rosenfield sighed, but knew that there was no escape. "You realize that if you can make me do this, you can pretty much make me do anything."

Another nuzzle accompanied by a soft nip to an earlobe. "Mmmm. Lucky, lucky," Cooper whispered. Tugged at Albert's sleeve and lead him onto the emptying dance floor.

Rosenfield peered around, noticed that no one was paying much attention, except for the bartender who was keeping an eye on his buybacks and tips. Gave into the warmth of the swaying body in his arms, melted into the embrace and fought back a soft laugh. What the hell, he thought, closing his eyes and moving slowly to the music. What the hell.

Ran his hands down the slim hips, pulled Cooper closer and received a gratifying murmur in response. This was Utopia in its own strange little way and he was grateful for the chance to experience it.

Even at the mercy of some DJ's Donna Summer collection.

Cooper's voice sounded low in his ear. "And after this, Albert, I can show you the jacket that went with the pants."

Rosenfield shut his eyes and shook his head. Hoped the song would end soon and he could get on that with that cow investment program right away. Before the rest of the world got wise to the treasure he held in arms, swaying to the last dance of the night in a town called "Cramp" Idaho.

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fini

I love comments, they make me write faster, yes indeed!

DBKate

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