Fic: Me Minus You Is A Lonely Ride
[Pre-slash] [American Idol] [David Archuleta/David Cook] [PG]
This is for hopefulgenius, who is brilliance personified and deserves a better present than I can give her for her graduation. (I'm sorry, baby, I'd buy you a car, but I hear that stuff is kind of hard to arrange from overseas?) So. She asked for more of the BFF AU, and... this is what happened. You know my heart is yours, lovely. <3
Earlier parts of this 'verse can be found here. I am thinking this might need its own index page soon. Ack.
Me Minus You Is A Lonely Ride
art by snackbreak, who is, like, a fucking goddess. only better.
It takes Cook more than half a fucking day to get back to Tulsa. He calls Kim the second David hangs up, keeps calling until he gets through,
("He'll crash at my place," she says. "I'll call Lupe and tell her we're having a sleepover and braiding his hair. I bet Mike has something to do with this. Fucking Mike. Cook, you don't have to--"
"Yes," Cook says. His fingers are tense around his cell. "Yes I do."
Kim pauses for a second. "Thought so," she says, eventually. "My place. Do not stop. Do not pass go.")
and then he rings Mike up and yells at him some - because he got fucking David fucking arrested, what the fuck - before he phones his manager to tell her there's been a family emergency, and he's going to be gone a while. The logistics takes some planning, but he manages to cancel all the promo he's got coming up in the next week, and then he calls John, the 19E rep, to break the news.
He's packed and left the house for the airport before John's even done yelling.
He heads straight for Kim's apartment when he lands, carrying nothing but the clothes on his back, a pair of shades and a baseball cap, pulled low over his face.
He doesn't even knock when he gets there, just feels his way down the hidden panel along the edge of the front door till he finds her spare key. He opens the door to David huddled up on Kim's couch, picking forlornly at a bowl of cornflakes.
David's eyes go wide. "Cook!" he says, nearly toppling the bowl over as he gets to his feet. "Oh my gosh, Cook! You're - what are you doing here?"
David sounds genuinely surprised, like he can't believe --
"I said I'd come get you," Cook settles for, eventually. And then he's pulling off the cap and the shades, shaking his head and scrubbing a hand over his face. "I mean, Jesus fucking Christ, David."
David winces and puts his hands behind his back, looking miserable, and Cook has this sudden flashback to Mrs. Otler's house, forever and a year ago, the summer they were supposed to be mowing her yard. Cook had tackled David to the ground twenty minutes in, and tried to keep him down, before David had flipped them both over, and they'd ended up ruining Mrs. Otler's prize-winning magnolias - or maybe it was petunias, Cook had never been sure.
"Sorry," David offers, finally. "It was really stupid. I'm really sorry I called, too. I mean, your album and stuff, you must be way busy, you totally didn't have to, like, whatever, fly halfway across the country--"
Cook's throat tightens. Because fuck if he isn't grateful for the hand he's been dealt, for Idol and all the opportunities it's opened up to him, for where he is today, but, for a moment, all he can think about is that this, this, is what it's cost.
This is what he's had to give up.
"David," he says, and David pauses and looks up at him. "I said I'd come get you."
"Oh," David says, and pauses. Then his gaze drops back down to his fingers, like he's sharing a secret. "I'm, um, I'm really glad you did."
Cook catches himself grinning, a little. "Come here, you idiot," he says, and opens his arms.
David does as he's told, grinning back, and when he closes his arms around Cook's back, it's the first time in a year that Cook believes he's actually home, and he hangs on for a long beat. "I hope you got a good mug shot, at least," he says, muffled in David's shoulder.
"Oh my gosh, shut up," David says, but he's laughing, and he's not letting go either, one hand already reaching up to pet absently at Cook's hair.
They stand like that for another moment, and then Cook pulls away, saying, "Why the hell were you arrested, anyway?"
"Um," David says.
They end up leaving a note for Kim and heading out for a walk around the old neighborhood. The last time Cook was home for more than three days had been the week of the Idol finale, almost half a year ago. "So I smiled and said hi," David says, when Cook starts paying attention again, "And then he's, like, telling me to put my hands over my heads and putting handcuffs on me, and charging me for public indecency or whatever, so--"
Cook chokes a little, at that. "Public indecency?" he snorts. "Fuck, is this guy for real?"
"That's what I said!" David says, and then adds, "Um. Kind of. In a paraphrased way?"
Cook starts laughing so hard he doubles over, and when he can breathe again, David's just standing there, rolling his eyes fondly. "That disguise is totally not going to fool anyone," he says, when he realizes he has Cook's attention again. "I'd know your laugh, like, anywhere."
"That makes a grand total of, oh, you," Cook says, grinning, and slings an arm around David's shoulders. David shifts a little under Cook's weight, till they fit, and hums under his breath as he leans into Cook's side.
"Are you working on new music again?" Cook asks. "Because Crush was pretty awesome, man."
"Oh my gosh," David says, and turns to look up at him accusingly. "I still can't believe you tried to play that demo for Randy! Cook, it wasn't finished!"
"What?" Cook protests. "You said you wanted an opinion! I figured I might as well get a professional's."
"I said I wanted your opinion," David corrects, with a huff. "It's not like I'm sending everyone at home a copy of the stuff you're recording!"
"Yeah," Cook says. "Because piracy is totally your style, Archuleta. I mean, I can see how you'd work the whole nefarious music peddler thing."
They fall into an easy banter after that, the same way they always have (where by easy Cook really means awkward and hilarious), and it's only when they wind up at the deserted park near the old cemetery that David stops and tips his head up and says, "She looked so much bigger before."
Cook frowns a little at the non-sequitur - not that he's not used to David's random tangents. "Uh, actually I'm pretty sure Paula was always tiny."
"No," David says, laughing, and points, and when Cook looks up--
They were seven when they decided to build the tree house. It'd taken two weeks of nothing but blisters and wood and hammer-crushed fingers, but when it'd been finished, they'd gone inside and laid down next to each other on the floor that they'd built, and Cook had closed his eyes and turned his face up toward the little patch of sky visible through the window in the ceiling.
"So many songs, which one is mine?" David had hummed, "One must be right for me. Which song of all the songs, when there's a song for every star, and there are oh, so many stars, so many stars."
--"Holy shit," Cook breathes, as he takes a couple of steps forward and presses a palm to the bark. It's like he can feel the old girl breathing. He aims a grin in David's direction. "Think she can still hold our weight?"
"Um," David says. "Maybe? I don't think we were very good builders."
"What are you talking about?" Cook says, a devilish edge to his grin now, and David starts getting this look, the one he always gets when he's about to protest (like the time they'd ended up spray-painting Samantha Marshall's locker bright pink because she thought gray was boring but didn't dare to do it herself, or the time they'd toilet-papered Mr. Foster's car, or the time they'd attended three weddings in a row pretending to be friends of the bride to score the free food), and Cook already knows the battle's won. "Come on," he says. "I'll race you."
The tree sways a little, groaning dangerously when they finally make it to the top, but otherwise stays upright. Cook sprawls out on the ground, and makes a little, "oof!" when David drops halfway on top of him, but doesn't move away. The night air is cool, and fresh, tickling at Cook's skin like a memory. Cook breathes in deep, tries to make the moment last. "Man, do you remember all the stuff we used to do up here?"
"I remember throwing water bombs at Adam once," David says. He sounds a little embarrassed.
"Oh yeah," Cook says, with a lazy grin. "Yeah, Lamebert. I remember him. The asshole who got on Kim's nerves and wouldn't leave her alone."
"Cook!" David protests, but then he kind of laughs, a little, so. "Oh, and there was the time we creeped those little kids out during their campfire."
Cook bursts out laughing, then. "I remember," he says, and then runs his knuckles up the side of David's neck. "Oooooh, spooky." He feels David shiver, a little, and then go really still. "Archie?"
David's laughter is strained. "I - it's, um, it's kind of cold up here."
Cook puts his hand on the back of David's neck. The skin there is cool. David shivers again - trembles, really. Shit. "We could go back down," Cook offers. "Grab a bite."
"No!" David says, too quickly, and Cook blinks. "I mean, we could just, um, we could stay awhile?" His voice grows a little stronger. "We could talk about the time you came here when you ran away from home because you didn't want to go to Summer Camp?"
Cook's smile vanishes. "Oh my god," he groans, clapping his free hand over his face. "I totally forgot about that. Thanks a lot."
David laughs, and Cook cracks an eye open to look at him. His eyes are bright, and there's a flush of color spread high on his cheeks. Cook grins. "We had some pretty good times here, didn't we? Man, I forgot how awesome this place is."
The moon disappears behind the clouds, then, and the world goes into a dim, hazy silver. Cook can't tell if it's a trick of the light, or if David's smile softens as he pushes up onto his elbows. His eyes are hooded, dark in a way Cook's never seen them before. "We missed you too, Cook," he murmurs.
Cook shivers - fuck, it really must be cold out tonight - and glances out of the tree house, looking out at the neighborhood he used to know so well. Nothing's changed here. Except everything. "Food sounds like a pretty good idea," he hears himself say.
It feels like David falters for a second, but then he smiles again, and nods. "Burgers at Jim's?"
"Like there was any other option," Cook says.
David laughs, dimples flashing as he tips his head back, and Cook thinks, well. Almost everything.
This is for hopefulgenius, who is brilliance personified and deserves a better present than I can give her for her graduation. (I'm sorry, baby, I'd buy you a car, but I hear that stuff is kind of hard to arrange from overseas?) So. She asked for more of the BFF AU, and... this is what happened. You know my heart is yours, lovely. <3
Earlier parts of this 'verse can be found here. I am thinking this might need its own index page soon. Ack.
Me Minus You Is A Lonely Ride
art by snackbreak, who is, like, a fucking goddess. only better.
It takes Cook more than half a fucking day to get back to Tulsa. He calls Kim the second David hangs up, keeps calling until he gets through,
("He'll crash at my place," she says. "I'll call Lupe and tell her we're having a sleepover and braiding his hair. I bet Mike has something to do with this. Fucking Mike. Cook, you don't have to--"
"Yes," Cook says. His fingers are tense around his cell. "Yes I do."
Kim pauses for a second. "Thought so," she says, eventually. "My place. Do not stop. Do not pass go.")
and then he rings Mike up and yells at him some - because he got fucking David fucking arrested, what the fuck - before he phones his manager to tell her there's been a family emergency, and he's going to be gone a while. The logistics takes some planning, but he manages to cancel all the promo he's got coming up in the next week, and then he calls John, the 19E rep, to break the news.
He's packed and left the house for the airport before John's even done yelling.
He heads straight for Kim's apartment when he lands, carrying nothing but the clothes on his back, a pair of shades and a baseball cap, pulled low over his face.
He doesn't even knock when he gets there, just feels his way down the hidden panel along the edge of the front door till he finds her spare key. He opens the door to David huddled up on Kim's couch, picking forlornly at a bowl of cornflakes.
David's eyes go wide. "Cook!" he says, nearly toppling the bowl over as he gets to his feet. "Oh my gosh, Cook! You're - what are you doing here?"
David sounds genuinely surprised, like he can't believe --
"I said I'd come get you," Cook settles for, eventually. And then he's pulling off the cap and the shades, shaking his head and scrubbing a hand over his face. "I mean, Jesus fucking Christ, David."
David winces and puts his hands behind his back, looking miserable, and Cook has this sudden flashback to Mrs. Otler's house, forever and a year ago, the summer they were supposed to be mowing her yard. Cook had tackled David to the ground twenty minutes in, and tried to keep him down, before David had flipped them both over, and they'd ended up ruining Mrs. Otler's prize-winning magnolias - or maybe it was petunias, Cook had never been sure.
"Sorry," David offers, finally. "It was really stupid. I'm really sorry I called, too. I mean, your album and stuff, you must be way busy, you totally didn't have to, like, whatever, fly halfway across the country--"
Cook's throat tightens. Because fuck if he isn't grateful for the hand he's been dealt, for Idol and all the opportunities it's opened up to him, for where he is today, but, for a moment, all he can think about is that this, this, is what it's cost.
This is what he's had to give up.
"David," he says, and David pauses and looks up at him. "I said I'd come get you."
"Oh," David says, and pauses. Then his gaze drops back down to his fingers, like he's sharing a secret. "I'm, um, I'm really glad you did."
Cook catches himself grinning, a little. "Come here, you idiot," he says, and opens his arms.
David does as he's told, grinning back, and when he closes his arms around Cook's back, it's the first time in a year that Cook believes he's actually home, and he hangs on for a long beat. "I hope you got a good mug shot, at least," he says, muffled in David's shoulder.
"Oh my gosh, shut up," David says, but he's laughing, and he's not letting go either, one hand already reaching up to pet absently at Cook's hair.
They stand like that for another moment, and then Cook pulls away, saying, "Why the hell were you arrested, anyway?"
"Um," David says.
They end up leaving a note for Kim and heading out for a walk around the old neighborhood. The last time Cook was home for more than three days had been the week of the Idol finale, almost half a year ago. "So I smiled and said hi," David says, when Cook starts paying attention again, "And then he's, like, telling me to put my hands over my heads and putting handcuffs on me, and charging me for public indecency or whatever, so--"
Cook chokes a little, at that. "Public indecency?" he snorts. "Fuck, is this guy for real?"
"That's what I said!" David says, and then adds, "Um. Kind of. In a paraphrased way?"
Cook starts laughing so hard he doubles over, and when he can breathe again, David's just standing there, rolling his eyes fondly. "That disguise is totally not going to fool anyone," he says, when he realizes he has Cook's attention again. "I'd know your laugh, like, anywhere."
"That makes a grand total of, oh, you," Cook says, grinning, and slings an arm around David's shoulders. David shifts a little under Cook's weight, till they fit, and hums under his breath as he leans into Cook's side.
"Are you working on new music again?" Cook asks. "Because Crush was pretty awesome, man."
"Oh my gosh," David says, and turns to look up at him accusingly. "I still can't believe you tried to play that demo for Randy! Cook, it wasn't finished!"
"What?" Cook protests. "You said you wanted an opinion! I figured I might as well get a professional's."
"I said I wanted your opinion," David corrects, with a huff. "It's not like I'm sending everyone at home a copy of the stuff you're recording!"
"Yeah," Cook says. "Because piracy is totally your style, Archuleta. I mean, I can see how you'd work the whole nefarious music peddler thing."
They fall into an easy banter after that, the same way they always have (where by easy Cook really means awkward and hilarious), and it's only when they wind up at the deserted park near the old cemetery that David stops and tips his head up and says, "She looked so much bigger before."
Cook frowns a little at the non-sequitur - not that he's not used to David's random tangents. "Uh, actually I'm pretty sure Paula was always tiny."
"No," David says, laughing, and points, and when Cook looks up--
They were seven when they decided to build the tree house. It'd taken two weeks of nothing but blisters and wood and hammer-crushed fingers, but when it'd been finished, they'd gone inside and laid down next to each other on the floor that they'd built, and Cook had closed his eyes and turned his face up toward the little patch of sky visible through the window in the ceiling.
"So many songs, which one is mine?" David had hummed, "One must be right for me. Which song of all the songs, when there's a song for every star, and there are oh, so many stars, so many stars."
--"Holy shit," Cook breathes, as he takes a couple of steps forward and presses a palm to the bark. It's like he can feel the old girl breathing. He aims a grin in David's direction. "Think she can still hold our weight?"
"Um," David says. "Maybe? I don't think we were very good builders."
"What are you talking about?" Cook says, a devilish edge to his grin now, and David starts getting this look, the one he always gets when he's about to protest (like the time they'd ended up spray-painting Samantha Marshall's locker bright pink because she thought gray was boring but didn't dare to do it herself, or the time they'd toilet-papered Mr. Foster's car, or the time they'd attended three weddings in a row pretending to be friends of the bride to score the free food), and Cook already knows the battle's won. "Come on," he says. "I'll race you."
The tree sways a little, groaning dangerously when they finally make it to the top, but otherwise stays upright. Cook sprawls out on the ground, and makes a little, "oof!" when David drops halfway on top of him, but doesn't move away. The night air is cool, and fresh, tickling at Cook's skin like a memory. Cook breathes in deep, tries to make the moment last. "Man, do you remember all the stuff we used to do up here?"
"I remember throwing water bombs at Adam once," David says. He sounds a little embarrassed.
"Oh yeah," Cook says, with a lazy grin. "Yeah, Lamebert. I remember him. The asshole who got on Kim's nerves and wouldn't leave her alone."
"Cook!" David protests, but then he kind of laughs, a little, so. "Oh, and there was the time we creeped those little kids out during their campfire."
Cook bursts out laughing, then. "I remember," he says, and then runs his knuckles up the side of David's neck. "Oooooh, spooky." He feels David shiver, a little, and then go really still. "Archie?"
David's laughter is strained. "I - it's, um, it's kind of cold up here."
Cook puts his hand on the back of David's neck. The skin there is cool. David shivers again - trembles, really. Shit. "We could go back down," Cook offers. "Grab a bite."
"No!" David says, too quickly, and Cook blinks. "I mean, we could just, um, we could stay awhile?" His voice grows a little stronger. "We could talk about the time you came here when you ran away from home because you didn't want to go to Summer Camp?"
Cook's smile vanishes. "Oh my god," he groans, clapping his free hand over his face. "I totally forgot about that. Thanks a lot."
David laughs, and Cook cracks an eye open to look at him. His eyes are bright, and there's a flush of color spread high on his cheeks. Cook grins. "We had some pretty good times here, didn't we? Man, I forgot how awesome this place is."
The moon disappears behind the clouds, then, and the world goes into a dim, hazy silver. Cook can't tell if it's a trick of the light, or if David's smile softens as he pushes up onto his elbows. His eyes are hooded, dark in a way Cook's never seen them before. "We missed you too, Cook," he murmurs.
Cook shivers - fuck, it really must be cold out tonight - and glances out of the tree house, looking out at the neighborhood he used to know so well. Nothing's changed here. Except everything. "Food sounds like a pretty good idea," he hears himself say.
It feels like David falters for a second, but then he smiles again, and nods. "Burgers at Jim's?"
"Like there was any other option," Cook says.
David laughs, dimples flashing as he tips his head back, and Cook thinks, well. Almost everything.