Work Text:
Prelude
Casual touches started pretty quickly.
Harry weren’t exactly a very touchy-feely person, but somehow, with Dale, he didn’t care at all. Maybe because of open, sometimes even childlike, personality. Maybe it was about his politeness and respectful manner he treated people with. He wouldn’t think of himself as someone better only because he was a city boy and FBI agent. From Shelly Harry knew that Cooper already had stolen all waitresses’ hearts with his wide smile and big tips (too big for place like that probably, but Harry hadn’t heard a single complaint). He sneaked to Twin Peaks and stayed, both in hearts of the citizens and quite literally.
Harry was worried, for many reasons. He liked Cooper since his first question about Douglas firs. He knew then that Cooper was something else, but it doesn’t change the fact that Harry saw pure passion in Cooper’s eyes when he talked about his work for FBI. How could he drop it with such ease? Without any second thoughts? What if they’ll come later? What if he’ll change his mind? What will they do then? Harry wasn’t sure if his heart could handle being broken twice in such short amount of time. But Dale was sure of his decision, so that’s where they were. With Dale slowly moving out of Philadelphia and out of the Great Northern to Harry’s little house. With casual touches that only increased in intensity but both of them were too afraid to say anything about it. With dreams that occupied Harry’s thoughts since he rose up until he lied in bed again.
Harry’s heart was so full. He wanted nothing more than wrap his arms around Dale and never, ever let him go. Dale could use some hugs after that. Harry knew that Dale won’t say a word, but he had some triggers since the whole Earle fiasco. And from that too. Lord knows that Harry wasn’t really better either. He couldn’t say these words out loud and he flinched when he heard them. He knew it was something that Dale was aware of. So they’re fine with “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy when it came to that, really. Dale, for the other hand, couldn’t stand rapidly blinking (or any blinking for that matter) lights and any sort of velvet materials anywhere. Sound didn’t trigger him as much but Harry saw how he jumped up when somebody in Double R had laughed too loudly and too harsh.
But other that they were fine. Harry were more than fine with firm good mornings and soft good nights they exchanged every single day. Harry wasn’t so surprised when he discovered that Dale was so energetic in the mornings because he already had two cups of coffee in him while Harry couldn’t open his eyes properly. He learnt that even though Dale was extremely picky about his food there were some things that he actually could cook (one night Dale told him that he picked it up from his mother ━ a couple of photos and these recipes were all what was left of her). For example, he once made really great casserole. But other than that, Dale was pretty clumsy in kitchen. He always made their eggs overcooked and bacon “cremated” (when Harry rolled his eyes at his plate, Dale slightly blushed and proposed to do his meal again. Harry thought it was cute when he chewed on that damned burned bacon).
Days flew and Harry learnt one more thing.
That he was impossibly in love with Dale Cooper. Or at least his brain finally caught up on what his heart knew for a really long time.
Impossibly was kind of exaggeration here. It wasn’t impossible to love Dale Cooper. In fact, it was the easiest thing in the world. But what felt impossible was how one man could make him feel all those feelings. Harry wasn’t a man of many words and that certainly didn’t help. He just hoped that maybe one day Dale will realise his feelings and maybe they will be able to do something about them.
What Harry hadn’t considered, because he obviously wasn’t aware of, was right in front of his eyes.
Dale Cooper had loved him back since the very beginning.
Act I
Dale never said a word (nobody’s surprised) to Harry, but Harry knew that he liked evenings most. Yes, Dale was an early riser, but he hadn’t enjoyed it like he did with evenings. He loved first taste of coffee in the morning, he loved listening to the birds, but he did it alone. With Harry still in his bed, he couldn’t help feeling a bit lonely. Evenings though, they were for him and Harry only. They cuddled, a little shy at first, slowly getting more and more bold in their action. Even if they had to work, they were touching - their fingers were combined together or Harry’s foot rested on Dale’s thigh. Dale was surprised when he realised how much he craved these little touches and was more eager with every passing day to give them to Harry. Harry was… Dale just wanted to touch him, to never let go, to cradle his soft face between his calloused from holding gun hands and see his gentle smile again, even though he smiled like that a couple of minutes ago.
Dale just wanted Harry. All of him.
And Dale never said a word but somehow, Harry knew all the things he wanted to say but never did.
Act II
Dale always liked to be warm.
Growing up in Philadelphia didn’t help, for sure. It wasn’t Alaska and that was nice, but it was more rainy than not. And Dale always liked layers. Knowing that everything is in the right place made him feel secure, and layers, like an armour, made him feel safe (he hadn’t realised for a long time that somehow it was Harry who made him feel safe lately). Being warm meant being sure he won’t be ill and that meant his lungs will work properly.
Being warm also made him feel less lonely.
And Harry, his beautiful, kind, open-minded sheriff knew that too. Harry picked up on all of Dale’s little quirk so quickly because in so many ways he understood what Dale felt. Yes, he might not understand that Dale often felt more and, most importantly, more deeply than other people, but it didn’t change the fact that he knew. He knew how it was to be alone, how it was to be guilty, how it was to be tired, deep-bone tired. Both of them were aware of what the other one felt and both of them were trying to minimise it for the other one (‘self-sacrificing idiots’ one could say).
They were aware of nuisances of their lives, so their stock was always full with wood, their cabinets were always full with blankets. One of them landed softly on Dale’s arms, when he sat in front of fireplace, shivering slightly.
Dale hadn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. He didn’t feel alone, because he knew that Harry was with him.
Act III
Dale was fine. He really was. He know he sounds like a broken record, but sometimes he needed to remind himself that. So he was fine and everything else was fine either.
Nights were hard, though. He had nightmares almost every single time something triggering happened during the day. To be completely honest, he wasn’t surprised at all. It was like repeating the same routine he gathered after first Earle incident (he never suspected he’ll be forced to named different “incidents”, once was enough, but apparently universe likes to fuck with him), only now it fell a thousand times worse.
But he always liked to look at the bright side of the things even if life consistently tried to prove him otherwise: he had Harry now. Harry who was soft and tough, who knew him better than anyone, who genuinely trust him even if he had no reason to do that. Harry who stayed through the worst without getting any promise of seeing the best. And that’s exactly why he needed to remind himself that he was fine and everything else was fine either. Because now he has someone to fight for.
One coffee after another and maybe one day all the king’s horses and all the king’s men could put Dale together again.
Postlude
Harry learnt a long time ago that for people like him and Dale actions speaks louder than any words. All you had to do was watch and hear.
And Lord, he was speaking as loud as he could. He was speaking in every second, every single day and he couldn’t be more grateful, because he knew he is heard.
They had been living their live in a relative peace now. And it was enough, it was more than enough, it was everything Harry could ever asked for.
Oh, to love and be loved in return. A daily miracle that's more common that one would've thought.
And sometimes, he had his daily miracle in the early mornings, when he woke up before Dale and watched him for a second, perfectly content with his life. Dale looked calm and happy, and safe.
Dale looked loved, because Dale was loved.
They could rest now.