Sunday Rain - A Counselor and Detective Story

Sunday Rain

Awareness came slowly to Frank Cosgrove, his senses slowly coming back on-line after what he would later consider one of the best nights of sleep, he'd enjoyed in almost a month.

A heavy rain was falling. The steady drum of water droplets striking the window an almost soothing symphony that drown out the usual noise of people and cars from the street below. There was enough of a chill in the air, that the warmth of Nolan's body, spooned so that the younger man's back was against Frank's chest, made him want to snuggle closer. The light blankets forming a warm burrito effect, rather than threatening to smother them.

Face pressed against the back of his husband's head; Frank enjoyed the rich scent of the expensive shampoo the E.A.D.A liked to use. Though the homicide detective lived to give Nolan a hard time about being a cliché when it came to his toiletries, he secretly loved the warm, soft scents of the younger man's soap, shampoo, and aftershave. It was rare that Cosgrove got to enjoy them like this, as usually Nolan would be awake and halfway through his morning routine by now.

'Wait.'

What time was it? Frank pushed his chin against the line of Nolan's shoulder and peered at the clock on the far bedside table. The classic 'Big Ben' style alarm reported that the time was approximately 8:33am. Frank felt a moment's panic, thinking he had slept through his alarm before his foggy brain caught him up on a few facts. Just the one important fact. It was Sunday.

It was Sunday and, he ... didn't have anywhere he needed to be.

"You're thinking loudly," came the sleep rough voice of the man in his arms. "Stop it."

"Sorry," Frank apologized, bending to drop a light kiss at the curve where the younger man's shoulder met his neck. "It's 8:33."

"Huh. Is that what the little arrow pointing towards the eight, and the big arrow pointing just past the six means. I'd always wondered." Never let it be claimed that Nolan Price accepted being woken up with grace.

"Don't you have somewhere you need to be?" The question wasn't intended to be snarky, but rather genuine. Neither man worked a job that could be considered your typical nine to five, five days a week existence.

"Not that I'm aware of," came the grumpy response. Though it was tinged with just enough uncertainty that Frank raised an eyebrow and peered at the vision of mused, dark curls before he lay his cheek against the silky hair.

"No dockets for next week need your review?"

"Sam took 'em. She's building up extra credit in anticipation of her review with Jack at the end of the month."

"Does she need it?"

"Absolutely not. Which I tried to tell her, but she threw a spring roll at my head."

"Fair warning."

"I thought so."

Silence fell in the bedroom, save for the steady pattering of rain and the steady rise, and fall of breathing.

"You having lunch with the girls today?" It was Nolan's turn to inquire about one of Frank's typical Sunday activities, spending time with his daughters.

"They went up to the cape. They're helping their grandparents put up the boats for the season."

"That's this weekend?"

"End of September."

"Oh. Yeah."

There was another pause, before the whisper of sheets rustling as long legs reconfigured themselves in a comfortable tangle.

"You have to run to the markets?"

"Did that last night, on my way home from the courthouse. Laundry?"

"I picked up the dry cleaning on Friday and ran what was in the hampers."

"Where was I?"

"That thing Jack had you attend in his stead at City Hall."

"Oh. Right."

"That exciting?"

"I'd have rather folded socks."

Frank smothered his chuckle against Nolan's shoulder, and got his biceps pinched for his trouble.

"You got briefs to read?"

"Sam ..."

"Wow, even the briefs?"

"She's got some sort of friendly contest going with a frenemy from law school who works down in D.C. Something about review rankings and a bottle of expensive tequila."

"Never get between that woman and her tequila."

"Learned your lesson at the Holiday Party, didn't you?"

"Hey. You promised never to speak of that night again."

"It wasn't the night that was the problem. It was the three-day hangover you were sportin... ow!" Nolan yelped as a broad palm lightly landed on his cotton clad ass.

"Hush you." Cosgrove growled, biting firmly on the curve of Nolan's nape, and enjoying the low groan it elicited from the younger man.

It was rare, almost unheard of that the pair of them ended up having nothing to do on the same day. Usually either work schedules conflicted, social obligations conflicted, family -in Frank's case- obligations took priority, or just the simple day to day chores of life required their attentions. But it was slowly becoming obvious, to both men, that this day held no expectations on their time and or attention.

Smoothing his hand along the lean musculature of Nolan's thigh, Cosgrove began to press a line of warm kisses down the valley of the younger man's spine.

"You have an agenda, Detective?" Nolan rumbled; his voice still rough but now sinking a register lower with slowly mounting arousal.

"Absolutely, Counselor. "