![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amfiguree[American Idol] [David Archuleta/David Cook] [G]
This is dedicated wholly to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fallenangels607, who is crazy and bid actual money on me (and won!) in the Charity Auction last month. I HOPE THESE 4300+ WORDS ARE WORTH THE MONEY, BECCA, AND I AM SORRY IF THEY AREN'T. I'm so, so excited for what's going to happen in the next two chapters, though, so I promise I'll work on that whenever I can and get those up for you as soon as possible, too.
All earlier parts of the 'verse can be found here.
Just an Ordinary Love Story (that's what we are)
Part Three
David is totally not a morning person, so he's surprised when he wakes up just as the sun's beginning to rise. He props himself up on an elbow, blearily, and watches the sky burn red-orange on the other side of the window. Then Cook groans into his pillow, and something makes David say, "Do you, I -- maybe we should have breakfast with my family?"
Cook makes another muffled sound, and David adds, "Or, if you don't - we could just--"
"No, no," Cook interjects, voice still coated rough with sleep as he sits up, his eyes closed. "I'm up, I'm up. Breakfast sounds like a great idea."
Oh my gosh, David thinks miserably, an hour later, breakfast is only, like, the worst idea ever.
They're at his house, both their plates stacked high with his mom's (awesome) pancakes and bacon, and then left to cool while they're, whatever, assaulted by the rest of the Archuleta clan. Sort of, anyway. Claudia and Jazzy had totally accosted Cook, like, the second they'd come into the backyard, and Daniel and Amber had dragged him to the kitchen to, "go say hi to Mama! You have to! She's been making your favorite pancakes!"
So he hasn't been able to check on Cook or anything since (even though, okay, Cook is only, like, seven feet away) and all this is totally planned, duh, and David's so nervous his palms are sweating, and he spends the entire time shooting Cook these helpless, terrified looks, and each time he does, Cook is giving him a small, sideways glance, eyebrows furrowed and a half-smile on his face, and dang it, David doesn't know why he ever brought this up.
"Oh my gosh, Dave," Claudia says then, right by his ear, and David jumps. "Relax. We were just talking!"
"Um," David says warily, as Jazzy and Amber beam at him and - finally! - let him slide into his seat, Cook right beside him.
His mom comes out of the kitchen with a bowl of scrambled eggs before he can start checking Cook for, like, internal injuries and stuff, and Cook smiles at her and says, "Everything looks amazing, Lupe," and everyone at the table chimes in with their thanks. His mom tuts at them, and asks if David will dish out the eggs, which is why he's caught totally off-guard when Jazzy says, smiling over her glass of milk, "So David, why Cook?"
David nearly drops the bowl. "What?"
"Why are you--"
"Jazzy," their dad says, warningly.
"What, Dad?" Jazzy protests, but David sees the way she hides her smile behind her fork. "I'm the bride. We've been talking about me for weeks. I'm tabling our wedding plan conversations this morning. I'd like to hear about someone else for a change." She turns her smile on Cook. "You don't mind, do you?"
Yes, you do! David thinks at Cook, desperately. It worked before--
"Consider it your pre-wedding gift," Cook says, grinning back at her and totally ignoring David's horrified stare.
"Well," his dad says, after a moment, and David looks at him pleadingly. "It's a fair question, Davey."
"Um," David stalls. "I'm - I don't, um..." He takes in the six expectant faces around the table, and steals a glance at Cook, who looks warmly amused. "He, uh, he's awesome?"
Jazzy throws an ice cube at him. "Oh my gosh, David! That is so not gonna cut it!"
Cook mimes an arrow through the chest when David doesn't go on. "Seriously, Arch, you're breaking my heart here."
"Oh," David says, weakly. "Well, he -- Cook's really nice. And - and he, um, he's good at making people feel comfortable. And he likes music, which is good, because common interests are important so, yes."
There's a second of silence, and David tries not to glare when Cook hides a smile behind his palm, because oh my gosh, that is totally unhelpful, hi, and David's never been any good at--
"So you boys like the same music?" his mom asks, finally, and David freezes mid-thought.
"Not exactly," Cook says, just as David is about to start panicking for real. He drops an arm casually over the back of David's chair, and his fingers brush David's shoulder for a second, which -- David actually feels kind of reassured. "I've always been more into the whole rock and roll genre, but Archie can convince me to give pretty much anything a shot."
Daniel chokes on his mouthful of water at that, and Claudia grins into her pancakes (which, whatever, okay, David has good taste in music! He's in Julliard! They have no right to laugh.).
"Who did you listen to growing up?" Amber asks.
"Oh man, anything I could get my hands on went straight into my collection," Cook says, tilting his head thoughtfully, listing each band off his fingers. "Led Zeppelin, Kriss Kross, Blessed Union of Souls, George Straits, the Motley Crue..."
He breaks into a laugh at the confusion on Amber's face. "Also, my favorite color is green, I like crossword puzzles and long walks on the beach, and I'm a Sagittarius."
Amber ducks her head, then, smiling shyly, and David starts to relax in his seat again.
Then his dad says, abruptly, "I never got round to asking, last night," and everyone at the table looks up from their plates. "How old are you, Cook?"
It's not - it doesn't sound suspicious or anything, and David would be able to pick out the concern in his dad's voice like a too-sharp D in a melody, but he cringes all the same. Then Cook's palm is a warm, sudden anchor against his skin, even as he straightens a little in his seat. "I turned twenty-eight in December, sir."
"Really?" David's mom says, smiling as she puts a hand on his dad's wrist. "When in December?"
"The twentieth, ma'am."
"Oh my gosh," David blurts. "Really? That's, like, a week before my birthday!"
A second moment of silence consumes the table, and David feels his mom's startled gaze on him, and he adds, belatedly, "Um, I mean--"
Cook starts laughing, then, and leans over and - and kisses him, oh my heck--
"Arch," Cook says, when he pulls back a second later, and David forces himself to look Cook in the eye, even though his mouth is still burning. "You're going to make your brother sick if you go on like this." He taps David's nose, briefly, and murmurs, "Relax, I got you," out of the corner of his mouth, before leaning back in his chair.
His neck is flushed, and Daniel is making mock gagging noises into his eggs when David finally looks up, but Claudia flashes him a thumbs-up across the table, and Jazzy beams at him, and Amber is talking to Cook again, quietly, and his mom and dad are watching him with small, careful smiles, and it - it's not ideal, but--
Maybe breakfast isn't totally the worst idea ever.
They get roped into running errands for Jazzy once they're done with breakfast, though. Which is -- David had been thinking about giving Cook the rest of the afternoon off so he could go sightseeing or whatever, since they've been working practically non-stop since their flight landed the day before and he thinks there might be, like, union rules about these things, but then his mom says, "It would really mean a lot if you could stop by the florist and check on the floral arrangements this afternoon."
David's about to say he can handle it on his when Cook insists on coming with him ("Like I'm letting you do all the fun stuff without me, Arch."), and when Cook grins, David blinks and almost hunches in on himself when his lips start to tingle again.
They wind up walking to Huddart Floral, which is about twenty-five minutes away, and Cook asks, "Did that go okay?" as soon as David's house disappears around the street corner.
David can't quite look up at him yet. He worries at his lower lip, then stops when that kind of makes things worse. "I think so. Jazzy really likes you."
"Yeah, well, you weren't too shabby yourself, Archuleta. Those were really smooth answers."
David groans and presses his face into his hands.
He startles when Cook's arm comes around his shoulder. "Hey," Cook says. "Stop that. I'm serious. You pulled it out, and I bet you didn't think you had it in you."
David does glance up, then, and Cook's mouth crooks up in another smile. David's throat goes tight, and he - it's really--
"Why are you doing this?" David hears himself say, suddenly. "I mean, I don't - it's just -- aren't the people you meet usually really weird?"
He wants to kick himself as soon as the words are out, because hi, brain, mouth, filter; he knows all the parts, so why doesn't it work for him the way it does for other normal people? "Sorry," he says, quickly, "Sorry, I just--"
But Cook doesn't look upset. "It's okay," he says, easily, looking at David with an eyebrow raised, lips still quirked in a hint of a smile. "You'd be surprised. I mean, yeah, sure you get the occasional weirdos, but most of my clients are pretty decent people." He leans in close, voice dropping a notch, conspiratorially, and David finds himself leaning back. "And sometimes? If I'm really lucky? I even land cute, prepubescent popstars who need a last minute--"
David jerks back. "Oh my heck! Shut up!"
That only makes Cook fold in on himself, sigh, his face pressed into his arms, his shoulders shaking as he cackles. David's torn between walking away and laughing himself. It's weird. It's not even that funny.
Then Cook straightens, solemnly, and shakes his head a little. "No, but seriously," he says. "I have seven children to feed, and my wife's been out of a job for months now, so the money's really tight. I'm pulling all the extra shifts I can."
"Oh my gosh," David says, horrified. He wrings his hands a little, helplessly. "Cook, I'm so sorry, that's awful, I just - if I had any extra money, I--"
Cook bursts out laughing again, slaps both hands on his knees and bends in half, practically gasping.
David stares at him for a second. Then -- "Oh my gosh, oh my -- Cook! That is totally not funny!"
"God, Archuleta," Cook says, weakly, as he wipes his eyes. "You're so easy."
"But I thought that was you," David shoots back, unthinkingly.
Cook pauses. "Dave," he breathes, after a moment, grin stretching wide across his face. "Did you just make a funny?"
David's about to protest, because it wasn't even that funny, okay, and he does know how to tell jokes - kind of - for another, but then Cook's doubled over again, cracking up so hard that David has to actually thump him on the back a couple of times to keep him from suffocating, and David just sighs and feels his mouth curl a little as he waits for Cook to compose himself.
"That's the spirit," Cook says, once he's stopped wheezing. "Now the only way to up that is to get me to hack up a lung before we get to check on those Calla Lilies."
David doesn't recognize that for the tactic it is till much, much later, but once he does, he admits it works. They spend the rest of their walk just talking, and the more they do, the more David realizes that, for all that Cook knows about him and his life history, he doesn't actually know much about Cook, except that they share a first name.
So when Cook tries to steer the conversation towards David's family, David asks Cook about his life instead - where he grew up ("I was born in Houston and raised in Tulsa, but New York's my home now."), his thwarted dreams of becoming a recording artiste ("Didn't work out the way I hoped it would, and this was supposed to pay the rent till it did. You can see how well that turned out."), his family ("I love them to death, but it's complicated."), and his pets ("Dublin really belongs to Mrs. White next door, but he pretty much camps out at my place whenever I'm around.").
The more David finds out, the more he likes.
When they get back to the hotel, the receptionist - Mary-Sue - tells them that they've got a voice message from his mom. It's about the family dinner that evening, the ones that would typically end with him in the lap of one of Aunt Em's acquaintances, and David winces at the thought.
"What's with the face?" Cook asks.
"Just - there's a family dinner thing tonight," David tells him, glumly.
"Huh," Cook says, rifling through his suitcase. "What's the dress code?"
"What?" David says. And then, "Oh! Oh, wait, you - we've been out all day, and you've been working since you've got here. You totally don't have to come tonight. I mean, it has to be kind of overwhelming? To be meeting the whole family like this, especially after, um, after yesterday, at the diner, and - you already saw my family this morning anyway, and tonight is going to involve everyone, like, my grandparents and my aunts and everything, so you really don't have to come if you're not--"
Which - okay, David is totally dreading the whole thing already, he can't even imagine - if Cook isn't there, he's--
"David," Cook says, on a laugh. "Breathe."
David sucks in a mouthful of air.
"Good," Cook says. "Look, I like your family. And Aunt Em's the reason you hired me in the first place, right? So you just worry about you, because I'm coming tonight, okay? "
David swallows, hard. "Okay."
"Okay," Cook repeats.
The second hand ticks on the clock.
"But what if they ask me something about you and I can't - what if it's a repeat of this morning? Or if my aunts think it's not going to work out and - and starts introducing me to other men? Or--"
"Yeah," Cook sighs. "Okay, you and pressure clearly work hand in hand. I'm going to take a shower, and when I'm done, I expect a composed wedding date."
David nods, then, numbly. His brain doesn't stop when he hears that, or even when Cook disappears into the bathroom, or even when the shower starts, because that would mean he's thinking about Cook in the shower, taking a shower, and you don't - there are rules about getting into the shower with clothes on and--
Um, so.
David spends the next fifteen minutes quietly freaking out about dinner instead.
David's mostly composed by the time they get to the restaurant for dinner. Sort of.
"It's going to be fine," Cook tells him, squeezing his shoulder as they wait to be seated. "You're acting like this is the first time we're doing this."
"It is!" David protests, feebly. "You've never met Aunt Em."
Then David hears someone say, "Was that my favorite nephew I heard saying my name?" and he barely has a second to give Cook a terrified glance before Aunt Em is barreling into him, putting both her arms around his neck to grab him in a long, tight hug. Her perfume still makes David feel a little dizzy, but he manages a smile as she pulls back to hold him at arm's length. "It's been ages since I've seen you, Archiekins! Look at how tall you've gotten, and still so adorable."
She pinches his cheeks - as usual - and David only barely holds in his sigh when he hears Cook almost choke on a cough beside him. "Um," he says.
"Now don't you worry about a thing, darling," Aunt Em coos. "We'll find you someone you like this year if it's the last thing we do!"
Aunt Em is already starting to drag him across the room, and Cook's still laughing behind them. "Um," David says, desperately. "Aunt Em--"
Then his mom materializes in front of them (and oh my gosh, David loves her so much) with Cook on her arm. "Em," she says, smiling. "Have you met David's boyfriend?"
"Jesus," Cook says, under his breath, after they've finally made all the rounds and escaped the crowd to get a moment to themselves, "Tough crowd tonight. I can see why you needed an escort. I thought your Aunt Em was about to have an aneurysm."
David swallows, hard, and manages a smile at Aunt Em, who's still watching them from across the room with a weird, hawk-like intensity. "I just wish she'd stop trying to set me up," he says, miserably. "She can totally mess with Daniel's love life. He wouldn't mind!"
"Somehow, I highly doubt that's true," Cook points out. "Oh, incoming!"
David doesn't even have time to duck before Aunt Em is there again, slipping her arm into his and patting his hand rigorously. "I just wanted you to know, Archiekins, I still adore you, and you're still my favorite nephew. Well, second favorite now, because you can't really be anyone's favorite unless you're going to have children. I'm really very progressive, darling, but that's how it works, you know."
"Oh," David says, helplessly. "Yes." He chances another glance at Cook, who grins at him and offers a nod of approval.
But then David feels totally vindicated when Aunt Em says, "Now where's that boyfriend of yours, Archiekins? I'd like to have a little chat with him," and he only feels a small twinge of guilt when he points Cook out to her and she goes to sink her claws into him instead.
Cook's clearly grateful for the opportunity to slip away from Aunt Em, and she seems less inclined to talk to David once they've all been seated, which -- David guesses Cook might have something to do with that. He reaches for Cook's hand while the waiters are taking their orders, and squeezes it warmly, and Cook looks up from his conversation with David's cousin, Vanessa, to smile and return the gesture.
"No one's asked any awkward questions so far," Cook murmurs, later, out of the corner of his mouth. "So by my estimate, things have been going pretty well."
"How's Julliard, dear?" Aunt Stephanie asks, then. "Is Cook one of your professors?"
David shoots Cook an accusatory glare.
"Aaaaaaand I take it back," Cook mutters.
Dinner itself is mostly uneventful. Cook's awesome with people, as usual, and everyone loves him, pretty much, and after a while, all talk turns back to wedding plans, which David reminds himself to be thankful for when he prays that night.
There's a lull in the conversation as dessert is being served, though, at which point Cook gets a call and excuses himself to take it.
Aunt Stephanie leans over three of David's cousins to wink at him, then. "That one's a keeper, Dave. And he's not hard on the eyes, either."
"Oh my gosh," David says, before he can stop himself, and then flushes. "Um, I mean, thank you?"
"He totally looks like a player," Christina says, from two seats over. "You should probably be careful, David. You know, just in case."
Aunt Stephanie hides a smile in her napkin. "And how's he supposed to do that, Christina? Bug his boyfriend?"
Christina rolls her eyes. "I only did that once, okay, and I totally caught Brett cheating on me--"
David's distracted from the rest of the conversation when Cook re-enters the room. His expression is tight, and David frowns, almost standing to reach for him, but everything's smoothed over by the time Cook comes back to the table and David's mom offers him a second helping of cake. "I would never deprive Archie of his cake," Cook says, and aims a tender, teasing smile at David as he slides back into his seat.
David's throat clams up, then, and Cook spends the next couple of minutes pounding his back so he doesn't choke to death. On marzipan.
"That's our thing," Cook says, later, to David's abuelita. "He does this whenever we're at a party and he's ready to leave."
David's pretty sure she doesn't understand a word, but he's biting back a smile anyway as he kisses her goodnight and lets Cook drag him out of the restaurant and into a cab.
"That was awesome," David says, beaming, as he slumps back into the seats. "Did you - Aunt Em totally left me alone after my mom introduced you."
"Because she was too busy trying to pimp me out," Cook laughs. The cab is big enough to comfortably fit them both, but Cook's maneuvered himself so they're fitted together, his arm, his thigh, warm and solid against David's side.
David tips his head onto Cook's shoulder when he laughs, too. "Oh my gosh, did you - she tried to get you to talk to Ben, didn't she?"
"Twice," Cook nods, and slouches a little more so David can get comfortable. "If you hadn't shown up when you did, I'm pretty sure she would've decided third time's a charm. You were pretty much my knight in shining armor back there."
"Ben's not that bad," David says, but Cook's finger brushes the back of his neck just then, and his heart's not in it.
"You're missing my point, Prince Charming," Cook grins, and his gaze is slow and heated when their eyes meet. "We've got to work on that."
David's skin is starting to feel hot again, which he's starting to get used to, around Cook, and he smiles a little as he shrugs. They spend the rest of the drive back to the hotel in silence, Cook's arm draped around his shoulders, and David finds himself leaning into Cook more than once. And thinking about what Cook said about - about his rates, and--
Oh my heck.
He's just overcompensating, David tells himself later that night, as he tugs at his tie a little desperately, trying to loosen it. It's just Cook's way of apologizing for taking a call in the middle of dinner, and it's not - David shouldn't be taking any of it seriously, especially not - not like that.
"Who was that?" he asks Cook abruptly, turning to watch as Cook pulls off his shoes.
"Uh," Cook says, and looks up with a raised eyebrow. "Okay, I'm pretty sure I don't need to be quizzed on your parents' names anymore, but--"
"No," David says, latching on to the subject. "No, I meant - on the phone? When - when you left the table?"
Cook blinks. It's like watching the blinds snap shut on a bright Sunday morning, like the cab ride they shared never happened. The silence is thick and heavy in David's ears.
"No one important," Cook says finally, and bends down to redo his newly untied laces. David knows he isn't imagining the strain in Cook's voice. He opens his mouth, but Cook beats him to it, standing and offering him a wry smile. "I'm gonna go take a walk, get a little fresh air."
A strange, sudden urge almost has David asking, can I get some air with you?, but he doesn't, just bites his tongue and smiles back and nods. It's not -- he needs to remember that they're not really boyfriends, not even really friends, he's - he barely even knows Cook, and they're totally not even at that sharing stage yet.
And yet -- when Cook leaves the room, he's - he must take all of the oxygen with him, because when the door swings shut with a quiet click, David finds it really difficult to breathe.
David's still trying to focus on breathing when Cook comes back, an hour later. Because - it's all starting to click now, all of it, the - in the cab, and the restaurant, and here, now, it's -- Cook's just trying to make up for - David isn't even sure what for.
We're not friends, he reminds himself, sharply. And, just, how stupid does he have to be to actually think--
"Hey," Cook says, with a small, half-smile, raising a bag as he shuts the hotel room door behind him. "There was a guy down the road selling hot dogs."
David's stomach clenches, hard, his chest so tight it feels almost brittle. This isn't real. "I'm - I don't want that."
"Uh," Cook says, "Okay. Do you want to watch a movie instead? We could see what's playing on TV."
David shakes his head, his hands curled into fists in his lap. I don't know him. "I'm not really--"
"Okay, what do you want to--"
"Cook, stop," David interrupts. His voice is shaking. "You're not - you don't have to make anything up to me, okay. I get it, you're upset, and I'm - that's okay. You don't have to tell me about it if -- but don't come back and pretend it - when you're not--"
Cook sits on his bed, slowly, and watches David with dark, inscrutable eyes. David snaps his mouth shut, but doesn't look away. Finally, Cook puts the bag down and says, quietly, "Okay."
David lets out a long breath and nods, face still burning. "Okay," he echoes, and lies back when Cook turns out the light, his heartbeat thundering in his ears as he watches the shadows splayed across the ceiling.
"That call," Cook says, suddenly, into the darkness, and David feels himself tensing at Cook's tone. "It was just someone I used to know that's -- that I haven't heard from in a while. It caught me off-guard. It was unprofessional, and I apologize. I won't let it happen again."
"Cook--"
"Goodnight, David."
David listens to the covers rustle as Cook rolls over onto his side. "Goodnight, Cook."
On to Part Four.
This is dedicated wholly to
fallenangels607, who is crazy and bid actual money on me (and won!) in the Charity Auction last month. I HOPE THESE 4300+ WORDS ARE WORTH THE MONEY, BECCA, AND I AM SORRY IF THEY AREN'T. I'm so, so excited for what's going to happen in the next two chapters, though, so I promise I'll work on that whenever I can and get those up for you as soon as possible, too. All earlier parts of the 'verse can be found here.
Just an Ordinary Love Story (that's what we are)
Part Three
David is totally not a morning person, so he's surprised when he wakes up just as the sun's beginning to rise. He props himself up on an elbow, blearily, and watches the sky burn red-orange on the other side of the window. Then Cook groans into his pillow, and something makes David say, "Do you, I -- maybe we should have breakfast with my family?"
Cook makes another muffled sound, and David adds, "Or, if you don't - we could just--"
"No, no," Cook interjects, voice still coated rough with sleep as he sits up, his eyes closed. "I'm up, I'm up. Breakfast sounds like a great idea."
Oh my gosh, David thinks miserably, an hour later, breakfast is only, like, the worst idea ever.
They're at his house, both their plates stacked high with his mom's (awesome) pancakes and bacon, and then left to cool while they're, whatever, assaulted by the rest of the Archuleta clan. Sort of, anyway. Claudia and Jazzy had totally accosted Cook, like, the second they'd come into the backyard, and Daniel and Amber had dragged him to the kitchen to, "go say hi to Mama! You have to! She's been making your favorite pancakes!"
So he hasn't been able to check on Cook or anything since (even though, okay, Cook is only, like, seven feet away) and all this is totally planned, duh, and David's so nervous his palms are sweating, and he spends the entire time shooting Cook these helpless, terrified looks, and each time he does, Cook is giving him a small, sideways glance, eyebrows furrowed and a half-smile on his face, and dang it, David doesn't know why he ever brought this up.
"Oh my gosh, Dave," Claudia says then, right by his ear, and David jumps. "Relax. We were just talking!"
"Um," David says warily, as Jazzy and Amber beam at him and - finally! - let him slide into his seat, Cook right beside him.
His mom comes out of the kitchen with a bowl of scrambled eggs before he can start checking Cook for, like, internal injuries and stuff, and Cook smiles at her and says, "Everything looks amazing, Lupe," and everyone at the table chimes in with their thanks. His mom tuts at them, and asks if David will dish out the eggs, which is why he's caught totally off-guard when Jazzy says, smiling over her glass of milk, "So David, why Cook?"
David nearly drops the bowl. "What?"
"Why are you--"
"Jazzy," their dad says, warningly.
"What, Dad?" Jazzy protests, but David sees the way she hides her smile behind her fork. "I'm the bride. We've been talking about me for weeks. I'm tabling our wedding plan conversations this morning. I'd like to hear about someone else for a change." She turns her smile on Cook. "You don't mind, do you?"
Yes, you do! David thinks at Cook, desperately. It worked before--
"Consider it your pre-wedding gift," Cook says, grinning back at her and totally ignoring David's horrified stare.
"Well," his dad says, after a moment, and David looks at him pleadingly. "It's a fair question, Davey."
"Um," David stalls. "I'm - I don't, um..." He takes in the six expectant faces around the table, and steals a glance at Cook, who looks warmly amused. "He, uh, he's awesome?"
Jazzy throws an ice cube at him. "Oh my gosh, David! That is so not gonna cut it!"
Cook mimes an arrow through the chest when David doesn't go on. "Seriously, Arch, you're breaking my heart here."
"Oh," David says, weakly. "Well, he -- Cook's really nice. And - and he, um, he's good at making people feel comfortable. And he likes music, which is good, because common interests are important so, yes."
There's a second of silence, and David tries not to glare when Cook hides a smile behind his palm, because oh my gosh, that is totally unhelpful, hi, and David's never been any good at--
"So you boys like the same music?" his mom asks, finally, and David freezes mid-thought.
"Not exactly," Cook says, just as David is about to start panicking for real. He drops an arm casually over the back of David's chair, and his fingers brush David's shoulder for a second, which -- David actually feels kind of reassured. "I've always been more into the whole rock and roll genre, but Archie can convince me to give pretty much anything a shot."
Daniel chokes on his mouthful of water at that, and Claudia grins into her pancakes (which, whatever, okay, David has good taste in music! He's in Julliard! They have no right to laugh.).
"Who did you listen to growing up?" Amber asks.
"Oh man, anything I could get my hands on went straight into my collection," Cook says, tilting his head thoughtfully, listing each band off his fingers. "Led Zeppelin, Kriss Kross, Blessed Union of Souls, George Straits, the Motley Crue..."
He breaks into a laugh at the confusion on Amber's face. "Also, my favorite color is green, I like crossword puzzles and long walks on the beach, and I'm a Sagittarius."
Amber ducks her head, then, smiling shyly, and David starts to relax in his seat again.
Then his dad says, abruptly, "I never got round to asking, last night," and everyone at the table looks up from their plates. "How old are you, Cook?"
It's not - it doesn't sound suspicious or anything, and David would be able to pick out the concern in his dad's voice like a too-sharp D in a melody, but he cringes all the same. Then Cook's palm is a warm, sudden anchor against his skin, even as he straightens a little in his seat. "I turned twenty-eight in December, sir."
"Really?" David's mom says, smiling as she puts a hand on his dad's wrist. "When in December?"
"The twentieth, ma'am."
"Oh my gosh," David blurts. "Really? That's, like, a week before my birthday!"
A second moment of silence consumes the table, and David feels his mom's startled gaze on him, and he adds, belatedly, "Um, I mean--"
Cook starts laughing, then, and leans over and - and kisses him, oh my heck--
"Arch," Cook says, when he pulls back a second later, and David forces himself to look Cook in the eye, even though his mouth is still burning. "You're going to make your brother sick if you go on like this." He taps David's nose, briefly, and murmurs, "Relax, I got you," out of the corner of his mouth, before leaning back in his chair.
His neck is flushed, and Daniel is making mock gagging noises into his eggs when David finally looks up, but Claudia flashes him a thumbs-up across the table, and Jazzy beams at him, and Amber is talking to Cook again, quietly, and his mom and dad are watching him with small, careful smiles, and it - it's not ideal, but--
Maybe breakfast isn't totally the worst idea ever.
They get roped into running errands for Jazzy once they're done with breakfast, though. Which is -- David had been thinking about giving Cook the rest of the afternoon off so he could go sightseeing or whatever, since they've been working practically non-stop since their flight landed the day before and he thinks there might be, like, union rules about these things, but then his mom says, "It would really mean a lot if you could stop by the florist and check on the floral arrangements this afternoon."
David's about to say he can handle it on his when Cook insists on coming with him ("Like I'm letting you do all the fun stuff without me, Arch."), and when Cook grins, David blinks and almost hunches in on himself when his lips start to tingle again.
They wind up walking to Huddart Floral, which is about twenty-five minutes away, and Cook asks, "Did that go okay?" as soon as David's house disappears around the street corner.
David can't quite look up at him yet. He worries at his lower lip, then stops when that kind of makes things worse. "I think so. Jazzy really likes you."
"Yeah, well, you weren't too shabby yourself, Archuleta. Those were really smooth answers."
David groans and presses his face into his hands.
He startles when Cook's arm comes around his shoulder. "Hey," Cook says. "Stop that. I'm serious. You pulled it out, and I bet you didn't think you had it in you."
David does glance up, then, and Cook's mouth crooks up in another smile. David's throat goes tight, and he - it's really--
"Why are you doing this?" David hears himself say, suddenly. "I mean, I don't - it's just -- aren't the people you meet usually really weird?"
He wants to kick himself as soon as the words are out, because hi, brain, mouth, filter; he knows all the parts, so why doesn't it work for him the way it does for other normal people? "Sorry," he says, quickly, "Sorry, I just--"
But Cook doesn't look upset. "It's okay," he says, easily, looking at David with an eyebrow raised, lips still quirked in a hint of a smile. "You'd be surprised. I mean, yeah, sure you get the occasional weirdos, but most of my clients are pretty decent people." He leans in close, voice dropping a notch, conspiratorially, and David finds himself leaning back. "And sometimes? If I'm really lucky? I even land cute, prepubescent popstars who need a last minute--"
David jerks back. "Oh my heck! Shut up!"
That only makes Cook fold in on himself, sigh, his face pressed into his arms, his shoulders shaking as he cackles. David's torn between walking away and laughing himself. It's weird. It's not even that funny.
Then Cook straightens, solemnly, and shakes his head a little. "No, but seriously," he says. "I have seven children to feed, and my wife's been out of a job for months now, so the money's really tight. I'm pulling all the extra shifts I can."
"Oh my gosh," David says, horrified. He wrings his hands a little, helplessly. "Cook, I'm so sorry, that's awful, I just - if I had any extra money, I--"
Cook bursts out laughing again, slaps both hands on his knees and bends in half, practically gasping.
David stares at him for a second. Then -- "Oh my gosh, oh my -- Cook! That is totally not funny!"
"God, Archuleta," Cook says, weakly, as he wipes his eyes. "You're so easy."
"But I thought that was you," David shoots back, unthinkingly.
Cook pauses. "Dave," he breathes, after a moment, grin stretching wide across his face. "Did you just make a funny?"
David's about to protest, because it wasn't even that funny, okay, and he does know how to tell jokes - kind of - for another, but then Cook's doubled over again, cracking up so hard that David has to actually thump him on the back a couple of times to keep him from suffocating, and David just sighs and feels his mouth curl a little as he waits for Cook to compose himself.
"That's the spirit," Cook says, once he's stopped wheezing. "Now the only way to up that is to get me to hack up a lung before we get to check on those Calla Lilies."
David doesn't recognize that for the tactic it is till much, much later, but once he does, he admits it works. They spend the rest of their walk just talking, and the more they do, the more David realizes that, for all that Cook knows about him and his life history, he doesn't actually know much about Cook, except that they share a first name.
So when Cook tries to steer the conversation towards David's family, David asks Cook about his life instead - where he grew up ("I was born in Houston and raised in Tulsa, but New York's my home now."), his thwarted dreams of becoming a recording artiste ("Didn't work out the way I hoped it would, and this was supposed to pay the rent till it did. You can see how well that turned out."), his family ("I love them to death, but it's complicated."), and his pets ("Dublin really belongs to Mrs. White next door, but he pretty much camps out at my place whenever I'm around.").
The more David finds out, the more he likes.
When they get back to the hotel, the receptionist - Mary-Sue - tells them that they've got a voice message from his mom. It's about the family dinner that evening, the ones that would typically end with him in the lap of one of Aunt Em's acquaintances, and David winces at the thought.
"What's with the face?" Cook asks.
"Just - there's a family dinner thing tonight," David tells him, glumly.
"Huh," Cook says, rifling through his suitcase. "What's the dress code?"
"What?" David says. And then, "Oh! Oh, wait, you - we've been out all day, and you've been working since you've got here. You totally don't have to come tonight. I mean, it has to be kind of overwhelming? To be meeting the whole family like this, especially after, um, after yesterday, at the diner, and - you already saw my family this morning anyway, and tonight is going to involve everyone, like, my grandparents and my aunts and everything, so you really don't have to come if you're not--"
Which - okay, David is totally dreading the whole thing already, he can't even imagine - if Cook isn't there, he's--
"David," Cook says, on a laugh. "Breathe."
David sucks in a mouthful of air.
"Good," Cook says. "Look, I like your family. And Aunt Em's the reason you hired me in the first place, right? So you just worry about you, because I'm coming tonight, okay? "
David swallows, hard. "Okay."
"Okay," Cook repeats.
The second hand ticks on the clock.
"But what if they ask me something about you and I can't - what if it's a repeat of this morning? Or if my aunts think it's not going to work out and - and starts introducing me to other men? Or--"
"Yeah," Cook sighs. "Okay, you and pressure clearly work hand in hand. I'm going to take a shower, and when I'm done, I expect a composed wedding date."
David nods, then, numbly. His brain doesn't stop when he hears that, or even when Cook disappears into the bathroom, or even when the shower starts, because that would mean he's thinking about Cook in the shower, taking a shower, and you don't - there are rules about getting into the shower with clothes on and--
Um, so.
David spends the next fifteen minutes quietly freaking out about dinner instead.
David's mostly composed by the time they get to the restaurant for dinner. Sort of.
"It's going to be fine," Cook tells him, squeezing his shoulder as they wait to be seated. "You're acting like this is the first time we're doing this."
"It is!" David protests, feebly. "You've never met Aunt Em."
Then David hears someone say, "Was that my favorite nephew I heard saying my name?" and he barely has a second to give Cook a terrified glance before Aunt Em is barreling into him, putting both her arms around his neck to grab him in a long, tight hug. Her perfume still makes David feel a little dizzy, but he manages a smile as she pulls back to hold him at arm's length. "It's been ages since I've seen you, Archiekins! Look at how tall you've gotten, and still so adorable."
She pinches his cheeks - as usual - and David only barely holds in his sigh when he hears Cook almost choke on a cough beside him. "Um," he says.
"Now don't you worry about a thing, darling," Aunt Em coos. "We'll find you someone you like this year if it's the last thing we do!"
Aunt Em is already starting to drag him across the room, and Cook's still laughing behind them. "Um," David says, desperately. "Aunt Em--"
Then his mom materializes in front of them (and oh my gosh, David loves her so much) with Cook on her arm. "Em," she says, smiling. "Have you met David's boyfriend?"
"Jesus," Cook says, under his breath, after they've finally made all the rounds and escaped the crowd to get a moment to themselves, "Tough crowd tonight. I can see why you needed an escort. I thought your Aunt Em was about to have an aneurysm."
David swallows, hard, and manages a smile at Aunt Em, who's still watching them from across the room with a weird, hawk-like intensity. "I just wish she'd stop trying to set me up," he says, miserably. "She can totally mess with Daniel's love life. He wouldn't mind!"
"Somehow, I highly doubt that's true," Cook points out. "Oh, incoming!"
David doesn't even have time to duck before Aunt Em is there again, slipping her arm into his and patting his hand rigorously. "I just wanted you to know, Archiekins, I still adore you, and you're still my favorite nephew. Well, second favorite now, because you can't really be anyone's favorite unless you're going to have children. I'm really very progressive, darling, but that's how it works, you know."
"Oh," David says, helplessly. "Yes." He chances another glance at Cook, who grins at him and offers a nod of approval.
But then David feels totally vindicated when Aunt Em says, "Now where's that boyfriend of yours, Archiekins? I'd like to have a little chat with him," and he only feels a small twinge of guilt when he points Cook out to her and she goes to sink her claws into him instead.
Cook's clearly grateful for the opportunity to slip away from Aunt Em, and she seems less inclined to talk to David once they've all been seated, which -- David guesses Cook might have something to do with that. He reaches for Cook's hand while the waiters are taking their orders, and squeezes it warmly, and Cook looks up from his conversation with David's cousin, Vanessa, to smile and return the gesture.
"No one's asked any awkward questions so far," Cook murmurs, later, out of the corner of his mouth. "So by my estimate, things have been going pretty well."
"How's Julliard, dear?" Aunt Stephanie asks, then. "Is Cook one of your professors?"
David shoots Cook an accusatory glare.
"Aaaaaaand I take it back," Cook mutters.
Dinner itself is mostly uneventful. Cook's awesome with people, as usual, and everyone loves him, pretty much, and after a while, all talk turns back to wedding plans, which David reminds himself to be thankful for when he prays that night.
There's a lull in the conversation as dessert is being served, though, at which point Cook gets a call and excuses himself to take it.
Aunt Stephanie leans over three of David's cousins to wink at him, then. "That one's a keeper, Dave. And he's not hard on the eyes, either."
"Oh my gosh," David says, before he can stop himself, and then flushes. "Um, I mean, thank you?"
"He totally looks like a player," Christina says, from two seats over. "You should probably be careful, David. You know, just in case."
Aunt Stephanie hides a smile in her napkin. "And how's he supposed to do that, Christina? Bug his boyfriend?"
Christina rolls her eyes. "I only did that once, okay, and I totally caught Brett cheating on me--"
David's distracted from the rest of the conversation when Cook re-enters the room. His expression is tight, and David frowns, almost standing to reach for him, but everything's smoothed over by the time Cook comes back to the table and David's mom offers him a second helping of cake. "I would never deprive Archie of his cake," Cook says, and aims a tender, teasing smile at David as he slides back into his seat.
David's throat clams up, then, and Cook spends the next couple of minutes pounding his back so he doesn't choke to death. On marzipan.
"That's our thing," Cook says, later, to David's abuelita. "He does this whenever we're at a party and he's ready to leave."
David's pretty sure she doesn't understand a word, but he's biting back a smile anyway as he kisses her goodnight and lets Cook drag him out of the restaurant and into a cab.
"That was awesome," David says, beaming, as he slumps back into the seats. "Did you - Aunt Em totally left me alone after my mom introduced you."
"Because she was too busy trying to pimp me out," Cook laughs. The cab is big enough to comfortably fit them both, but Cook's maneuvered himself so they're fitted together, his arm, his thigh, warm and solid against David's side.
David tips his head onto Cook's shoulder when he laughs, too. "Oh my gosh, did you - she tried to get you to talk to Ben, didn't she?"
"Twice," Cook nods, and slouches a little more so David can get comfortable. "If you hadn't shown up when you did, I'm pretty sure she would've decided third time's a charm. You were pretty much my knight in shining armor back there."
"Ben's not that bad," David says, but Cook's finger brushes the back of his neck just then, and his heart's not in it.
"You're missing my point, Prince Charming," Cook grins, and his gaze is slow and heated when their eyes meet. "We've got to work on that."
David's skin is starting to feel hot again, which he's starting to get used to, around Cook, and he smiles a little as he shrugs. They spend the rest of the drive back to the hotel in silence, Cook's arm draped around his shoulders, and David finds himself leaning into Cook more than once. And thinking about what Cook said about - about his rates, and--
Oh my heck.
He's just overcompensating, David tells himself later that night, as he tugs at his tie a little desperately, trying to loosen it. It's just Cook's way of apologizing for taking a call in the middle of dinner, and it's not - David shouldn't be taking any of it seriously, especially not - not like that.
"Who was that?" he asks Cook abruptly, turning to watch as Cook pulls off his shoes.
"Uh," Cook says, and looks up with a raised eyebrow. "Okay, I'm pretty sure I don't need to be quizzed on your parents' names anymore, but--"
"No," David says, latching on to the subject. "No, I meant - on the phone? When - when you left the table?"
Cook blinks. It's like watching the blinds snap shut on a bright Sunday morning, like the cab ride they shared never happened. The silence is thick and heavy in David's ears.
"No one important," Cook says finally, and bends down to redo his newly untied laces. David knows he isn't imagining the strain in Cook's voice. He opens his mouth, but Cook beats him to it, standing and offering him a wry smile. "I'm gonna go take a walk, get a little fresh air."
A strange, sudden urge almost has David asking, can I get some air with you?, but he doesn't, just bites his tongue and smiles back and nods. It's not -- he needs to remember that they're not really boyfriends, not even really friends, he's - he barely even knows Cook, and they're totally not even at that sharing stage yet.
And yet -- when Cook leaves the room, he's - he must take all of the oxygen with him, because when the door swings shut with a quiet click, David finds it really difficult to breathe.
David's still trying to focus on breathing when Cook comes back, an hour later. Because - it's all starting to click now, all of it, the - in the cab, and the restaurant, and here, now, it's -- Cook's just trying to make up for - David isn't even sure what for.
We're not friends, he reminds himself, sharply. And, just, how stupid does he have to be to actually think--
"Hey," Cook says, with a small, half-smile, raising a bag as he shuts the hotel room door behind him. "There was a guy down the road selling hot dogs."
David's stomach clenches, hard, his chest so tight it feels almost brittle. This isn't real. "I'm - I don't want that."
"Uh," Cook says, "Okay. Do you want to watch a movie instead? We could see what's playing on TV."
David shakes his head, his hands curled into fists in his lap. I don't know him. "I'm not really--"
"Okay, what do you want to--"
"Cook, stop," David interrupts. His voice is shaking. "You're not - you don't have to make anything up to me, okay. I get it, you're upset, and I'm - that's okay. You don't have to tell me about it if -- but don't come back and pretend it - when you're not--"
Cook sits on his bed, slowly, and watches David with dark, inscrutable eyes. David snaps his mouth shut, but doesn't look away. Finally, Cook puts the bag down and says, quietly, "Okay."
David lets out a long breath and nods, face still burning. "Okay," he echoes, and lies back when Cook turns out the light, his heartbeat thundering in his ears as he watches the shadows splayed across the ceiling.
"That call," Cook says, suddenly, into the darkness, and David feels himself tensing at Cook's tone. "It was just someone I used to know that's -- that I haven't heard from in a while. It caught me off-guard. It was unprofessional, and I apologize. I won't let it happen again."
"Cook--"
"Goodnight, David."
David listens to the covers rustle as Cook rolls over onto his side. "Goodnight, Cook."
On to Part Four.
