My Kind Of Perfect (Cookleta)
Title: My Kind Of Perfect
Author: beth_archangel
Pairing: Cookleta
Rating: G
Word Count: 1008
Summary: Made for the tosod-challenge
I was thinkin’ about ya; I drew a little picture. But there’s some things you can’t put on paper. Like ya like shooting stars, or write songs on guitars; got more things to do than stare at a mirror.
Okay, so maybe David’s not as good of an artist as he is a singer. But that didn’t shut down the urge for him to pick up a pencil and paper and try. The first few sketches really weren’t that good. The face wasn’t at all proportionate to the body structure, or the figure would have arms that were way too long, and legs that were laughably short.
Once he got the main body drawn to his liking, he started to worry. For how could you draw a liking for shooting stars? Maybe he could draw a guitar in the corner, but that wouldn’t explain writing lyrics on one. And what about having more things to do than stare at a mirror all day? There was no way he could draw that! He’d just have to explain.
And I know I know, she's gotta be out there, out there. I know, I know, she's gotta be
Fingers ran through dark brown hair, and curled around the back of his neck as he looked out of the window. It was a bit shocking to think that someone, somewhere, a person who was made just for him to love, was seeing the exact same moon and stars that he was seeing. (Well, they could be seeing the sun, but he liked the first thought much better.)
The figure he had drawn didn’t have a face just yet, but Archie knew it was a man. A man that was very, very familiar to him, in more ways than one. He drew more; reddish brown hair and matching beard and mustache, then baby blue eyes over a rounded nose.
It was laughing, the man on the paper was laughing. Archie erased the eyes and made them tightly shut, to correspond with the parted lips, teeth clenched tightly with laughter that made him laugh. He laughed partly because of the laughing man on the paper, and partly because it was obvious who he had drawn.
David Cook.
Once he was finished, he decided to take it to Cook. He knew Cook would like the picture, and even if Archie had drawn his nose far too big, and his eyes much too small, (which would have been totally embarrassing, oh my gosh) Cook would treasure it, because it was from a friend. But he really couldn’t just, y’know, hand it over. That would be awkward.
Maybe I’m wrong, maybe I’m right. Maybe I just let you walk by. What can I say? Maybe I’ve known you all my life
“So, everyone asks about when I’m going to get a girlfriend. They always think that she’s going to be, like, really skinny, and five six with long blonde hair. But she won’t be just any typical girl. Physical appearance doesn’t matter to me. It’s what’s in their heart that counts, that’s the kinda stuff that lasts forever. That’s my kind of perfect.”
Well, that may be his kind of perfect. And he’d been carefully searching for it too, and it seemed like he’d been looking for an eternity. After all, it might have been one of his countless fans; or maybe someone he went to school with. Then again, and this really freaked him out, it might have been a random person he walked by on the street. He would always come back at the end of the day just wondering if he didn’t look good enough.
She’s anything but typical; a sweet surprise. No matter what she’s looking at the bright side. It’s gonna be worth it, cause that’s what love is. I’ll keep searching for my kind of perfect.
Archie remembered when his own debut album came out, and Cook had surprised him by sending him a card and bunch of flowers, along with his congratulations. He called Cook after all of the TV shows and release parties, and they ended up talking for hours on end. No matter what Archie said, Cook always had something positive to say in return. It was a nice change. And it certainly was worth it when he fell asleep at 3 in the afternoon during a talk with Lupe.
They say, give it time, give it time and it will fall in line. But I keep wondering how and when and why I haven't met you yet.
His abuelita would always say “Oh mi nieto, there are plenty of fish in the sea! You’ll find your príncipe azul, just give it time.”
Yeah, okay. He was 19 years old and still hadn’t had his first kiss, and he hadn’t even been in a relationship yet. People still thought it was cute, but how long would that last? He’d already been asked if he liked men, and, well, he didn’t give a clear answer, because he knew deep down inside that he did. His recording company insisted that he sing songs about girls so that none of his fans would have a broken heart, and that was all good and fine, but what about his heart?
Is she the one? Is it today? Will I turn the corner; see my future in a beautiful face?
He turned the corner, and came face to face with the sight of David Cook, bent over his guitar, sharpie in hand, writing away in his untidy scrawl. The starry night was visible in the window behind the older man, the exact view he had when he was drawing.
"Hey, Arch. I was just heading outside to watch for shooting stars. Did you want to watch them with me?"
"Yeah, Cook, I'd like that."
On the way outside, as he folded up the paper, and stuffed it into his pocket. He’d give it to Cook later. Right now, he’d just relish in the happiness of being with his kind of perfect.
Author: beth_archangel
Pairing: Cookleta
Rating: G
Word Count: 1008
Summary: Made for the tosod-challenge
I was thinkin’ about ya; I drew a little picture. But there’s some things you can’t put on paper. Like ya like shooting stars, or write songs on guitars; got more things to do than stare at a mirror.
Okay, so maybe David’s not as good of an artist as he is a singer. But that didn’t shut down the urge for him to pick up a pencil and paper and try. The first few sketches really weren’t that good. The face wasn’t at all proportionate to the body structure, or the figure would have arms that were way too long, and legs that were laughably short.
Once he got the main body drawn to his liking, he started to worry. For how could you draw a liking for shooting stars? Maybe he could draw a guitar in the corner, but that wouldn’t explain writing lyrics on one. And what about having more things to do than stare at a mirror all day? There was no way he could draw that! He’d just have to explain.
And I know I know, she's gotta be out there, out there. I know, I know, she's gotta be
Fingers ran through dark brown hair, and curled around the back of his neck as he looked out of the window. It was a bit shocking to think that someone, somewhere, a person who was made just for him to love, was seeing the exact same moon and stars that he was seeing. (Well, they could be seeing the sun, but he liked the first thought much better.)
The figure he had drawn didn’t have a face just yet, but Archie knew it was a man. A man that was very, very familiar to him, in more ways than one. He drew more; reddish brown hair and matching beard and mustache, then baby blue eyes over a rounded nose.
It was laughing, the man on the paper was laughing. Archie erased the eyes and made them tightly shut, to correspond with the parted lips, teeth clenched tightly with laughter that made him laugh. He laughed partly because of the laughing man on the paper, and partly because it was obvious who he had drawn.
David Cook.
Once he was finished, he decided to take it to Cook. He knew Cook would like the picture, and even if Archie had drawn his nose far too big, and his eyes much too small, (which would have been totally embarrassing, oh my gosh) Cook would treasure it, because it was from a friend. But he really couldn’t just, y’know, hand it over. That would be awkward.
Maybe I’m wrong, maybe I’m right. Maybe I just let you walk by. What can I say? Maybe I’ve known you all my life
“So, everyone asks about when I’m going to get a girlfriend. They always think that she’s going to be, like, really skinny, and five six with long blonde hair. But she won’t be just any typical girl. Physical appearance doesn’t matter to me. It’s what’s in their heart that counts, that’s the kinda stuff that lasts forever. That’s my kind of perfect.”
Well, that may be his kind of perfect. And he’d been carefully searching for it too, and it seemed like he’d been looking for an eternity. After all, it might have been one of his countless fans; or maybe someone he went to school with. Then again, and this really freaked him out, it might have been a random person he walked by on the street. He would always come back at the end of the day just wondering if he didn’t look good enough.
She’s anything but typical; a sweet surprise. No matter what she’s looking at the bright side. It’s gonna be worth it, cause that’s what love is. I’ll keep searching for my kind of perfect.
Archie remembered when his own debut album came out, and Cook had surprised him by sending him a card and bunch of flowers, along with his congratulations. He called Cook after all of the TV shows and release parties, and they ended up talking for hours on end. No matter what Archie said, Cook always had something positive to say in return. It was a nice change. And it certainly was worth it when he fell asleep at 3 in the afternoon during a talk with Lupe.
They say, give it time, give it time and it will fall in line. But I keep wondering how and when and why I haven't met you yet.
His abuelita would always say “Oh mi nieto, there are plenty of fish in the sea! You’ll find your príncipe azul, just give it time.”
Yeah, okay. He was 19 years old and still hadn’t had his first kiss, and he hadn’t even been in a relationship yet. People still thought it was cute, but how long would that last? He’d already been asked if he liked men, and, well, he didn’t give a clear answer, because he knew deep down inside that he did. His recording company insisted that he sing songs about girls so that none of his fans would have a broken heart, and that was all good and fine, but what about his heart?
Is she the one? Is it today? Will I turn the corner; see my future in a beautiful face?
He turned the corner, and came face to face with the sight of David Cook, bent over his guitar, sharpie in hand, writing away in his untidy scrawl. The starry night was visible in the window behind the older man, the exact view he had when he was drawing.
"Hey, Arch. I was just heading outside to watch for shooting stars. Did you want to watch them with me?"
"Yeah, Cook, I'd like that."
On the way outside, as he folded up the paper, and stuffed it into his pocket. He’d give it to Cook later. Right now, he’d just relish in the happiness of being with his kind of perfect.