Like All Good Fairytales (6/7)
master post | prologue | i | ii | iii | iv | v | epilogue
v. the little mermaid never got to sing
"Yes, I love him. Yes, we're very happy. Yes, we want 2.5 kids, a white picket fence and a dog named Rover. [Laughs.] Who doesn't want the American dream, right?"
Everyone who knows about them knows that David is the real romantic in the relationship. He likes grand gestures, champagne and fireworks, the whole nine yards. (It's probably why his Kim-phase left Maggie - his then-publicist - in tears every time he opened his mouth.)
Archie's a whole different ballgame. He appreciates the thought behind the romancing, David knows that much, but he's always been a little shy when it comes to showing affection, something David has managed to (sort of) beat out of him in the past couple of years.
Still. David's not surprised when Leila - his current publicist - starts to look a little teary-eyed when he tells her about his latest plan. "David," she says, uncertainly. "Are you sure that's such a good idea? You've just gone platinum, album sales could still dip, and with your target audience--"
"Lei," David says, seriously. "Have you seen the stuff they're posting on the message boards? The fans already think I've slept with every member of my band. This'll barely be a blip on the radar."
Leila excuses herself from the room, then, primly, and David vaguely hears the sound of sobbing explode in the hallway after she closes the door behind her.
So that's phase one.
David remembers the Thai restaurant they'd gone to on their first date. The exterior had been totally nondescript, but inside it was small and cozy, a worn, warm green coating the walls, like the best Thai curry, with fancy gold trimmings and authentic Thai lettering along the borders.
David looked around, completely fascinated, till he caught Archie's eyes. Archie gave him a shy, sly look that said, and this is only the beginning, and David found himself grinning back.
The food was amazing, especially the Pad Thai, and the conversation was even better. David talked enough for the both of them, fascinated by Archie's soundless laughter and the way he kept trying to hide his grin behind his napkin.
They spoke for hours, comfortable and easy, even after Archie nearly choked to death laughing at David's joke about the motel and the Barracuda. They stayed for dessert, after, and then for coconuts, which became two coconuts, a lime juice, and some odd fruit mix David had never heard of in his life. They were still arguing about the merits of each drink when their waiter came back to their table and, with a polite little cough, put their check down in front of them. David hadn't even realized how late it'd gotten.
Archie insisted on getting the tab, never mind that David was the one who'd asked him out in the first place, because I'm totally not letting you, like, whatever, show off your fifty gazillion credit cards.
David grinned, then, barely waiting for the waiter to leave before leaning across the table.
Archie blinked up at him, eyes soft and warm in the candlelight, credit card still curled in one fist, and David remembers thinking you don't get a second chance at once in a lifetime.
"So we have a couple of other options, but I'm pretty sure this is going to become our favorite restaurant," he murmured, as his hand inched closer to Archie's over the white linen cloth. "I thought you deserved a heads up."
Archie looked at him, carefully, for a moment, and David held his breath. Then Archie smiled, and David's heart stuttered in his chest. And when Archie tilted his head up, just a fraction, and parted his lips, it was all the invitation David needed.
David remembers how soft Archie's mouth had been, how he'd tasted like Pad Thai and spice, this wet tropical heat, how it'd felt like trading secrets, the ones Archie would never be able to say. David remembers thinking it was the best kiss he'd ever had.
"You're insane," Andrew says, when David calls him to iron out the details. "He's going to go into cardiac arrest, and you're going to cry like a little girl."
"That's the plan," David nods. He's pretty much beyond denial at this point.
"Fuck," Andrew says, laughing. "Mom is going to love this."
David remembers spending an entire afternoon watching Archie tinker on the piano, under the guise of working on a new track for the next album. Not being able to hear doesn't mean I can't play! he'd informed David, when they'd been dating a month. His mouth had curled, a little. It just means I'm, um, not very good.
Archie bobbed his head to the music, winced in places as if he could hear the note going sour, grinned when he fiddled with the F and G sharps, a string of notes he would never know.
The silence rung, sharply, when Archie stopped, and turned around on the bench to look at David. We should totally get a dog, he'd signed, absently.
David put his pen down, thoughtfully. After a second, he nodded and said, "Dublin."
Archie laughed, hand pressed to his mouth, like always, and David felt a sweet, sharp tug in his chest. The look Archie aimed at him said, What?
"Dublin," David repeated, easily. "That's his name. Or - her name, I guess, depending."
Okay, Archie agreed, still smiling. But, um, probably not yet? Because that would sort of be like having children and we're not even, um--
David broke into a grin himself. "Are you saying you want my babies, Archuleta?"
Cook! Archie protested. He was blushing again, skin hot where his arm was tucked up against David's. I just mean, like, when we're ready, or whatever.
David's smile softened. "Yeah," he nodded. "When we're ready."
Archie went back to tapping keys on the piano, and after a second, David joined in. Archie smiled down at their hands and mouthed, Dublin, to himself, like he was testing the weight of it on his tongue. David closed his eyes, and pretended he could hear it.
When he opened his eyes again, Archie was looking at him, head tipped to the side. Come back to me, he mouthed, one hand cupped around the other, holding on to the last word like a glory note, and David remembers, as he'd folded in half and laughed, remembers feeling like he could take on the world.
Phase two of David's ingenious plan involves roping the other three Horsemen (and Carly) into helping him carry it out.
"You want to do what?" Carly demands.
"More importantly, you want to do what where?" Luke points out.
David snorts. "Yeah, thanks, guys, I'm really feeling the support here."
Yeager and Carly exchange looks. "Dave, man, are you sure?" Yeager asks. "I mean, you know what you're asking is--"
David rolls his eyes with a sigh. "Look, guys. If I was looking to be judged, I'd go back for another season of Idol. Are you going to help me or not?"
It takes a second of silent, telepathic conversation between them - Carly raising an eyebrow alone could be any of thirteen different messages, and David's willing to bet she uses the 'we should not be encouraging him' variation of it more than once - but then Michael finally snorts and shakes his head. "David fucking Cook. Some mornings I wake up wondering if this is the day I'll see you turn into an actual woman."
Carly smacks him as David rolls his eyes, and Michael grins through his wince. "Yeah, Jesus, 'course we'll help. What do you want us to do?"
Amidst the three-hundred strong crowd, their well-wishes, the booze, the strippers (Jesus fucking Christ, Michael had definitely had a hand in planning the party) and the honest-to-god confetti that had been raining down from the ceiling, David remembers, clearly, wondering where Archie had disappeared to.
He'd found him a couple of hours later, hiding out in the makeshift studio in the basement, tinkering on the piano. Archie startled a little when David sat beside him, and David nudged him in the side. "Now you know how I felt," he said, with a grin - which was a total understatement, because the aftershock of three hundred voices yelling, "Surprise, happy birthday!" and then being assaulted with a battery of hugs was going to take some recovery time - and nipped at Archie's lower lip when Archie leaned in to kiss him.
"Why aren't you up there with your guests?" David asked, as Archie pulled back and ran his fingers gently over the piano keys again.
Ran out of paper, Archie admitted, with a little laugh. And, um, I got tired of typing texts into my phone.
David snorted and shook his head. Typical.
Also, I know you said you didn't want, like, a party or whatever, Archie added, after a beat. But then your mom texted me and told me that you say that, like, every year, and you're totally lying, so, um - happy birthday?
"Best birthday party I've had," David said, squeezing Archie's hand, briefly. "Especially since it's the first time I've had gay strippers pole-dancing in my home."
Oh my gosh, Archie groaned. I totally should've let your mom handle the entertainment.
David started laughing, then, and murmured, "You're fucking amazing," as he reached for Archie and reeled him in.
Um, so, Archie signed, when they broke apart, his breaths coming erratic and shallow. I guess that means you really liked it?
David burst out laughing all over again.
Now, David's plan is flawless - or as close to flawless as it can possibly be - but he hits a bit of a snag at phase three. It involves rounding up the rest of the Season 7 Idols, which turns out to be much trickier than David'd thought it would be. He talks to Brooke on occasion, and Chikezie, texts Asia'h from time to time, and he gets the occasional email from Jason, but getting in contact with his other ex-competitors is no easy task, considering the amount of time that's gone by. He almost throws in the towel after Syesha's manager hangs up on him the third time in a row, because apparently he knows how David Cook sounds better than David does, and David's impersonation (he's either not growly enough or funny enough or he doesn't speak in melody, fuck) isn't going to get him anywhere.
Except, fuck, of course David's not throwing in the towel. Archie's completely in love with the show, even the judges, because of course he couldn't be infatuated with some other TV show that David has absolutely no affiliation with, of course not--
So. He's almost set now, and on the way home he gets Jeff on the phone so they can talk details, and Jeff says he'll get the word out to the rest of the Archuletas, so, by David's calculations, the only person still in the dark is Archie, which pretty much means that everything is going according to plan.
It's stupid, because no one's actually going to respond, but David catches himself calling, "Honey, I'm home!" as he wipes his feet off on the welcome mat anyway.
Archie comes barreling into him a second later, obviously panicked. His fingers are flying, too fast for David to make out, eyes wild, mouth tripping over words that have no sound.
"Arch," David says, clapping his hands over Archie's shoulders. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! David, fuck, I can't keep up, you're gonna have to slow down."
Archie repeats himself, clearly agitated, but all David catches is something about water and pie. Possibly ice cream. Archie rolls his eyes, and tugs David towards the kitchen, which is when David realizes that there's smoke leaking out from under the kitchen door. "Holy shit," he breathes.
The kitchen is a mess. There's cutlery everywhere, pots and pans upturned, dishes in complete disarray. The oven door is open, the burned ruins of - what David assumes used to be - a pie, sitting meekly on the cooling rack. There are three plates on the kitchen counter, covered by a dry, checkered dishtowel, and David almost slips when he steps inside because, oh, yeah, the sprinkler is going.
Archie grabs the broom from beside the kitchen door and thrusts it at David. He looks miserable. I, um, I might have broken the alarm? he signs, calmer now that he's not alone in assessing the damage. But then the water was being all, whatever, stubborn, and it wouldn't stop.
David stares for a second at the broom in his hand.
And I, um, I maybe climbed up the kitchen counter to hit the smoke alarm, Archie adds, belatedly. Sorry?
David takes a second, then, to actually look Archie over. He has a smudge of flour on his cheek, and his 'i ♥ lettuce' apron is hanging crookedly off one shoulder. David's mouth twitches. The sprinkler's still going strong.
Archie's eyes widen as he takes a step closer to David. Oh my gosh, don't even think about--
Which is when he slips, flails, and crashes into David, hard. David stumbles a little, regains his balance when he hits the kitchen counter, and then nearly loses it again from laughing so hard. Archie tries, and fails, to look outraged, both arms wound around David's neck, color blossoming bright on his cheeks.
Carefully, Archie untangles himself from David, and waits for David to stop wheezing before he signs, I didn't hear the timer, and ducks his head, sort of embarrassedly.
David catches himself on the brink, and barely manages to swallow another laugh. "Fuck," he says, and, when Archie won't quite look at him, his mouth, signs back, Arch, Jesus, I can hear it and I would've burned the damn thing anyway.
When Archie finally raises his eyes, he looks like he might be fighting a smile. True.
David does grin, then. "Though I wouldn't have broken the smoke detector, so there is that."
Oh my gosh, Archie sighs, and tilts his face up to the ceiling. They're both wet already, and Archie's shirt is clinging to his skin, his hair plastered to his forehead, and, when he looks back at David, there are beads of water caught in his eyelashes, and on his cheek.
"Archie," David says, unsurprised when his voice comes out rough. He tugs Archie close again, so they're standing toe-to-toe, and kisses him, right there, thumb sweeping at the droplets of water running down the line of Archie's neck.
Oh my gosh, Archie repeats, pushing his hair back as he blinks more moisture out of his eyes. Cook! Stop distracting me!
David grins, unrepentant, and runs the pad of his finger over the hollow of Archie's throat, then his mouth, and feels a thrill vault down his spine when Archie shivers and leans closer.
He looks around the kitchen, at what he's built here - what they've built here, all of it, and thinks, smiling, this is my life.
"Okay," David says. "Let's get this place cleaned up."
David remembers how it'd been when Archie had started staying over. It'd taken some adjusting to, and the constant shared space resulted in a couple of heated arguments (which were always stupid, because David would raise his voice, and then have to stop himself, because what was the point?) which almost always ended up with Archie in the studio, hammering away at the piano like a boxer in the ring.
But they'd always end up in bed together, at some point, limbs tangled, David listening to the rise and fall of their quiet breathing in the dark.
One night, after a spectacularly stupid fight, Archie had sat up a little, signed, I think you should sing to me. Belatedly, he added, Um, please?
David raised an eyebrow. "But you can't--" he begun.
Archie pressed his ear pointedly to David's chest. Yes, I can.
David hesitated a moment, and then nodded and said, "okay," and felt Archie's smile against his skin. He launched into an old favorite, then, one of the lesser-known Collective Soul songs. "Feels like sweet sixteen, all sugar and nicotine," he hummed, low and sweet, "It feels like ready go, I'm full throttle while the fluids flow."
Archie pressed a kiss to the center of David's palm as he listened, then pushed David's fingers close over it, one by one.
"I said it feels like, it feels like," David sang, "Feels all right."
Leila takes one last stab at convincing him that what he wants to do is "kind of crazy, Dave, you know? I mean, you sure you can't wait a couple of years? Maybe when you turn 45?"
To which David responds with a shake of his head, saying, "Waiting's overrated."
"Fine," Leila sighs. "The venue is totally yours. Madison Square Garden couldn't be more thrilled to have you, and I've already sent out a notice to the press. We've been promised live TV coverage by three major networks, and I have a couple of radio shows lined up, it's all in your inbox, so if there's a show you don't want to do, we'd better take care of that. Oh, and we'll have to do a shoot for promo, and Michelle's handling the logistics for that and for tickets, but that's old hat by now."
David raises an eyebrow, and Leila waves a hand at him. "Fine, fine, and Terry's going to set up everything you need for after the concert. As discretely as possible. I had to make people sign confidentiality contracts, Dave. God."
"So we're set?" David asks.
"Did you hear a word of - ugh, whatever, yes, we're set." Leila shakes her head. "I deserve a raise."
"You're too good for me," David agrees, easily.
Leila looks him over, once, then says, "Just so you know, this is career suicide, so the only reason I'm helping you do this, aside from not wanting to have to explain why I was fired by David fucking Cook, is the fact that you give awesome health benefits." She pauses, then adds, grudgingly, "And sometimes you're even a halfway decent human being."
"Thanks," David says, with a laugh. "I appreciate it."
The question they get the most from friends is probably, "Seriously, how did you two meet?"
Archie's response is always a grin and funny story, and each time, David groans and buries his face in his hands like it might make the whole ordeal any less painful.
They'd met at a meet and greet. A meet and greet, of all things, and Archie hadn't even been a fan.
David had been exhausted, running on caffeine and adrenaline after a long day of promo and interviews, and he was about to ask for another latte when Archie came up to the table, beaming, and David caught himself smiling back. Archie held out a placard that read: Hi David, I'm David. But you can call me Archie, haha. My sister Jazzy was supposed to be here today, but she's sick, so I guess I'm standing in. :) I'm sure I would totally love your music if I listened to it, though! Probably. Haha.
It took a couple of seconds for David to stop laughing. "A little under the weather yourself?" he asked, when he could finally breathe again, and grinned when Archie sort of shrugged and smiled. "That sucks." He took the album liner from Archie, saying, "To Jazzy, right?"
Archie nodded, and David signed the album and handed it back to him. On some strange compulsion, he added, before Archie could walk away, "Maybe the show will change your mind. About my music?"
Archie laughed, soundlessly, and he shrugged again. Then he mouthed, good luck! and was herded offstage.
(It wasn't until later, after the show, when David saw him again, signing, sorry, sorry, sorry! at one of the other patrons, that he'd realized, had approached Archie and signed, did you ring for a translator?
Archie had stared up at him for a second, clearly surprised, and David had added, without knowing why, my brother had brain cancer; we had to pick it up pretty quick.
It had taken less than an hour of conversation for David to say, "So I was thinking we should get together for dinner some time," and Archie had looked straight at him, with something almost like wonderment, before signing, slowly, do you like Thai?)
You're going to sound totally amazing, Archie signs, right before David's supposed to go on, and David takes a second to catch his breath, to marvel at him, at all of this. Outside, he can hear the crowd cheering, and it's pretty fucking amazing, to know that they're all there to see him, that they're all going to be there to witness this.
The stage manager waves for him to get onstage, and Archie backs up a couple of steps. Something flutters in David's stomach, and he reaches for Archie's hand, tugs him close again. "I love you," he says, quietly, and kisses him, and Archie's flushed and smiling when David pulls away and lets himself get herded out onto the stage.
The audience is a blinding wall of noise and flashing lights, and the thrill of it makes David grin, makes his fingers itch. "Give it up, Madison Square Garden!" he says, into the mic. The response is insane. "How're y'all feeling tonight?"
Another burst of sound.
"Thanks for coming out tonight, you guys. We have a great show lined up for you. Y'all know the drill, right?" David asks, and laughs when the crowd roars their approval. Then he quirks an eyebrow. "Or do you?"
The band kicks off with the opening chords to Breathe Deep right as David finishes the question, and David fucking nails it before he even opens his mouth to sing. The audience is going crazy. There's something in crackling in the air here, and it pulses like a heartbeat through the crowd, the band.
David breezes through the rest of the set: Reverberate, Sycophant, This Sweet Morning, then segues into a couple of songs from his debut album, Life on the Moon, Avalanche, Come Back to Me, and then a Collective Soul cover, and even a few tracks off his pre-idol album.
The crowd eats it up, every moment of it, and on his last glory note, David presses his hand to his chest, feels his heart pounding to the beat of Kyle's drums, and then he says, "You guys have been amazing, thank you," and the crowd gasps, this ripple of sound, when the rest of the Idols start coming out onstage.
"We've got one last song on the menu tonight," David says, then, and the energy triples. "Our special of the day." His blood is roaring in his ears as Michael slings an arm around his neck, grinning, and then Ramiele joins them, on his other side, and the rest of the idols are right there with her, and David tilts his head back, just enough to see the complete awe on Archie's face, and signs, with the hand not holding onto the mic, this is for you.
Then Kyle says, "One, two, three, four!" and breaks out into Dance Like There's No Tomorrow. The audience goes absolutely batshit, and David ends up laughing so hard he completely misses his cue. For three minutes, he gets to relive Idol all over again, gets to stand in Madison fucking Square and sing his heart out with some of the most talented people he's ever going to meet. He catches glimpses of Archie in between, watching them with wide, awed eyes, lips parted, cheeks stained with color, and David feels himself shaking with it, with what he's about to do.
"Give it up for the American Idols, you guys!" he says, when it's over, and applauds into the mic as his friends take a bow.
"David Cook, everybody!" Amanda announces, in turn, and then Brooke smiles at him, comfortingly, and Michael mutters, "Break a leg," and elbows him in the side before they all file off backstage.
David's heart is in his throat as he turns back to the crowd and raises a hand to get their attention. "If you guys'll just bear with me for five more minutes," he says. There's a murmur of confusion from the crowd when he adds, "Can we get David Archuleta out here?"
He cuts his gaze over to the wings just in time to see Carly nudging Archie forward, out onto the stage. Archie looks completely bewildered, blinking at the sudden onslaught of flashing lights, and his mouth tilts up, questioningly, when he catches David's eyes. What's going on? he signs.
David just grins, feels his skin tingle with nerves and anticipation when he says, "Hit it, Terry!"
All the lights go out. For a second, the stage is completely dark. And then this fucking amazing string of blue lights flickers into life behind the band: Will you get a dog with me?
The script curls from one end of the stage to the other, big enough to be read from Utah, probably, but David barely even hears the crowd's reaction, his entire world condensed to this place, this moment. Archie's staring up at the message, unmoving, unblinking, and even without the spotlight, David can see that he's shaking. He's actually shaking, and David feels his palms start to sweat.
He can see the exact moment Archie realizes that Jeff and Lupe are there, that his siblings are in the wings, that David's family is there, too, hidden by the screens. Archie wrenches himself from the message, then, from all of it, and turns to David, hands flailing helplessly.
David's heart is like a sledgehammer against his ribs, going so fast, so hard, that he can barely breathe. He takes a shaky step forward, anyway, away from the mic, then another. I know we weren't ready the last time we talked about this, he signs, clumsily. But it's been a while now, and I know more about you than I thought I'd ever know about anyone.
Cook, Archie signs back, and then stops, covers his mouth with his hand instead.
I know what you look like when you wake up in the morning, David continues, stronger now, and his next step forward is more confident. I know you love watching musicals. I know you'd make an amazing pianist. I know you think Bubbles should be your favorite Powerpuff Girl, but you like Buttercup more. I know that you have six different smiles. I know how terrible you are at crossword puzzles. I know I'll never be half the cook that you are, despite my namesake.
Archie laughs a little, at that, the light catching in his hair, his smile, and David feels his eyes start to burn.
I know how it feels when you listen to me sing, right here, David adds, pressing his palm to his chest, over his heart. And I know nothing else will ever feel the same way.
David pauses, then, drops his head and tries to catch his breath, and, when that doesn't work, shoves the heels of his palms against his eyes, and struggles to ride it out.
He feels Archie's hand on his shoulder, after a second, and when he lifts his head, Archie's looking up at him, eyes wet, and David thinks, I love you, and gets down on one knee.
Andy starts to wolf-whistle.
Oh my-- Archie begins.
"Archie," David interrupts, and he's fucking terrified, cheeks damp, heart going so fast he's pretty sure it's about to stop, beating so loud everyone in the crowd must be able to hear it, but he's saying it anyway, one of Archie's hands curled in his own, "David."
Archie goes completely still. He's looking at David, carefully, like the night of their first date, except David recognizes the emotion now, this jumble of affection and yearning and fear.
And then Neal comes up to him, holding the mic, and David takes a deep breath, doesn't even wave Neal away, and says, "Will you spend the rest of your life raising Dublin with me?"
There's a sudden roar from the crowd, but David barely even notices. Archie's just watching him, silently, and David feels his stomach clench--
Yes, Archie signs.
David breaks into a small, relieved laugh, and then Archie flies at him, wraps his arms around David's neck, nodding the rest of his answer into David's shoulder, yes, yes, yes.
"Kiss already!" Joey yells, and David looks over, shakily, and says, "Wouldn't want to disappoint the band," and then his hands are in Archie's hair, and his shirt, and Archie's mouth opens easily under his own, and the applause and the jeering fades into this blend of noise in the background as David thinks, this is the rest of my life.
"We might need to take a raincheck on the kids and the white picket fence, though," he murmurs, when they pull away.
Archie buries his face in David's shoulder, again, laughing, and David counts the vibrations, grinning himself.
It's the best thing he's heard all night.
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