Rating: PG, for flirting.

Series: Jeezus, I hope not! Aren't we busy enough? Kidding, kidding.

Category: A dare from the twisted mind of Tucker Glenn. There was no way in hell I was going to pass this one up!

Pairings: That's up to you guys to figure out what we're up to.

Disclaimer: Some of the characters here just might seem a tad familiar

Spoilers: Nope! You might not even know who the players are if you haven't read the right stories.
Notes: All words in italics are phonetic Greek. This came from the humor of two cops with the same name. It is a HUMOROUS ALTERNATE UNIVERSE only!

Summary: So, what if a few of our favorite cops ran into each other ten years ago and hit it off? The mind boggles.

Cooperation

By Shatterpath and Tucker

"To my first weekend away from the slave drivers," I murmured and raised my shotglass to the grin of the woman bartender. I had been desperate to get the hell away from my small class of mixed bag of Army, Air Force and Marines training to be K9 officers over at Lackland AF base. Scotty, one of my fellow recruits, had pointed me a place just outside San Antonio that would let us bring in the dogs with no hassle. He had been right and my young partner even now happily wagged his tail and sniffed the air. Ah, the happy burn of real Mexican tequila, the kind of stuff that you could use to fuel up a diesel engine. A groan of approval came up from my throat and I slammed the shot glasses onto the polished wood.

"That good, huh?" The bartender chuckled and I peered at her nametag.

"Nope, Melanie is it?"

"Yep. Need another?"

"Please," I begged softly and she complied with another chuckle. "I love what I'm doing, but sometimes I get so damn sick of those boys!"

"Well, that's what you get for wearing the uniform," she teased me lightly and I smirked with acknowledgement.

"When you're right, you're right. Cheers Melanie."

Time passed and I was finally beginning to feel the buzz of the alcohol. Damn Greek tolerances... A flicker of familiar movement caught my eye and I sputtered into my beer chaser. Damn dog!

"Cooper!" I bellowed and he froze reflexively. The pretty blonde woman fondling his ears jumped and flashed me a startled and almost paranoid look. Tequila buzz or no Tequila buzz, I was abruptly crouching next to my cringing partner. "Sorry ma'am," I grinned winningly into wary blue-green eyes. "I didn't realize he'd wandered over. He's not supposed to go to strangers, but Cooper was always one for the ladies."

"~~Cooper was always one for the ladies."

The little tape recorder in my head replayed that one several times while I blinked in bewilderment at the dark woman kneeling next to the German Shepherd; a proprietary hand gripping the collar of the well cared for animal.

And I'd hoped Leon Springs was far enough out of San Antonio to let me drink beer in peace.

Blue eyes the color of indigo dyed denim beamed at me from under curly black hair; if I'd arrested her I'd remember it. Not to mention she was obviously military and even a traffic ticket would certainly not have left her cheerfully grinning at me teasing me about sexual orientation.

Which left only one explanation.

I glanced around the small rustic bar trying to spot which of my smart ass fellow troopers had spotted me in the parking lot; I know I didn't mention heading to Rudy's during my work day.

I didn't recognize a soul in the place other than Melanie, who I am always careful to tip well in order to ensure a happy reception.

I couldn't help but grin down at the dog arching his neck in ecstasy, rear leg thumping in pleasure as I found the sweet spot on his chest.

I slid my eyes back to the soldier as I straightened, ignoring the Shepherd's rambunctious thrust of inquisitive nose into my crotch.

'What the hell,' I thought. 'Might as well play along.'

The deep blue eyes looked bemused when I turned the grin on her.

"With the ladies, huh?" I shoved myself to my feet, seeing the slight tic of concern mar the coffee with cream brow. "They tell you how good I am? With the ladies?"

++++

"~~With the ladies?"

Momma said there be days like this. Days where you get caught with your proverbial pants down around your ankles and no clue what the hell was going on. I have to admit that I liked the flirty tilt of that pale eyebrow and the twinkle in her gaze. Oh boy. and a gun strapped tightly to her side.

Sto dheeahvalo (damn), she must be a cop then, a woman cop that just made a terrific tribute to innuendo at me. Even if all of this conversation didn't make any sense. I could work with that.

When I held up a hand, she eyed me oddly for a moment, obviously not accustomed to the damn military uniforms being civil to her. Damn shame that was. So I flashed my best charming smile and her second eyebrow arched up to join the first. "Y'know, I've heard about the famous southern charm, but yours is the first I've really liked."

Her grip was warm and steady and more than strong enough to tug me to my feet. I was only a shade taller, even in the damn regulation boots, but she carried herself like someone bigger than she really was. Excellent trick of body language for a good-looking woman cop, and she was certainly that. Tightening my grip on her hand when she would have pulled away, I grinned again and shifted the play of fingers and palms to something less utilitarian and more intimate.

"Buy you a drink? To make up for my partner's behavior?"

There was something dangerous and appealing about the potential stupidity of what I was doing. So far, no lines had been crossed, but I was all too aware that I was skirting them pretty damn closely. Then she smiled, slow and smooth. "You're on Yankee."

To Be Continued?