Fic- Song Choice- 2/12
Title: Song Choice 2/12 (David Cook- Billie Jean)
Author: Starbrigid
Pairing: David Cook/Jason Castro, implied David Cook/Michael Johns
Rating: R
Summary: "Be careful who you love."
Disclaimer: If only it were true.
Author's Note: Hello all! -waves- Nice to meet you! -poke poke-
This is the second part of a planned "epic" lol which will just like go through all the possible pairings of remaining guys, because I love them so -weebles- It's called "Song Choice" (so important fyi ^^) because each part is based on a song one of the guys sang. The first part, which is David and Michael, can be found here:
http://community.livejournal.com/idolslash/540554.html#cutid1
There's also a little David/Jason in that part, too.
Sorry it got so angsty, btw. (And for the customary floridity of teh prose lol) Angstiness not planned. Deals w/ David's brother and stuff, which I hope is cool. Sorry if it isn't... Please read and enjoy!
Song Choice
Starbrigid
I. David Cook
2. Billie Jean
My mother always told me, be careful who you love
Be careful what you do because the lies become the truth
"This is what you call a bad idea," David says, but he doesn’t mean it. When else are they going to find the time alone? They’ve been goofing around and flirting for weeks, but all they’ve been able to do is to steal a few hurried kisses behind doors and mirrors. Finally, though, they’re the only two guys in the room, and if not now, when?
It’s after Top 10 night, and David has been brilliant. Or at least that’s what the judges said. He believed them, even if their raving about his originality was slightly perturbing in the face of having copied the arrangement from Chris Cornell. Singing "Billie Jean" was such a rush, though, the kind of rush he had thought impossible for a jaded old guy like him. ("You’re not old!" Ramiele would squeal. "You’re nice and perfect and snuggly!") The rush still hasn’t worn away, nor has the languid, sexy feeling he gets when he performs, the elation and all that confidence. He is so in love with himself right now and no matter who could walk in, he deserves this. He doesn’t want this feeling to go away, not when there are so many things this feeling is helping him forget.
"Hey, stop that," says David, and doesn’t mean it. Of course thinking of what he wants to forget makes him think of Adam, and the news that’s supposed to come next week, the news that probably isn’t going to be good. He remembers the first time Adam had cancer and he can’t believe how easy it all seemed then, how quickly he could put it out of his mind. Now, the idea of it is a constant weight upon him.
Granted, the weight isn’t always bad. Sometimes it’s the same old cliche that, as a master of cliches, David has used so many times: the knowledge is a weight on his back, threatening to make him stumble and fold beneath it. Other times the weight lives in his legs, and makes them drag beneath him like sacks, independent of the rest of his body. Sometimes the weight slides up to his stomach, and he feels dazed, nauseous, like he could never eat again (but being David, the thought soon passes.) The only time the weight is really bad is when it settles in his chest or throat and he feels like he could not sing if the entire world was watching, like his vocal chords have been smashed to pieces- like there is someone slowly but surely choking his voice away. But David is not thinking about that, though, because he can’t, not now. When this beautiful boy touches him, David could almost convince himself that the weight has disappeared.
"Jason Castro’s not my love," David sings, sotto voce. "He’s just a boy…" and Jason nearly chokes himself laughing.
"David, you’re funny, man," says Jason. "Really funny. But, like, hurry up."
"What’s the rush?" David breathes, feeling sexy. That’s his favorite thing about Jason, how sexy Jason makes him feel. That and the eyes, of course, which are currently inches away from his. He likes having Jason’s eyes this close. They make him feel calm, because Jason is calm; those eyes are the dazed aqua blue of oceans. (There is David and Adam and Andrew at the beach with their parents when they were little, Andrew and David splashing and Adam nearby on his back, lying there floating.)
Jason’s body is even closer, all long and hard above him, slender hips squirming. Jason’s hair smells sweet, that famous, ludicrous hair that David could have between his fingers whenever he wanted, those long coarse waves of gold; could have spilled across his thighs as Jason’s beautiful mouth swallows him like water, like an eye in the midst of- in the midst of a fathomless storm. (There is the girls screaming as he sings, "I am the one," there is the patterns of notes and chords beneath his fingers that emerge as if spontaneously, like the old cliche of Aphrodite except in that myth she came from Cronus’s blood. There is the blood-like substance that fills the IV they give Adam during chemo, red liquid that drips so slowly it hypnotizes. There is the hypnotizing glare of the lights upon his face, of the explosion of ecstatic sound, of music and sex and forgetting.)
"Earth to David," says Jason, and David rolls them over. Jason stares up at him, cheeks flushed, and David notices for the first time that those calming blue eyes are in fact rather miserable.
"What’s wrong?" David breathes, and presses a kiss into Jason’s neck. Jason sighs, and squirms.
"I’m going home. And I’m kinda going a little crazy over it. I’m so nervous. And I know you don’t know what that’s like, ‘cause you’re always so great, and I’m not jealous, I swear, I really do think you’re great, and you were amazing tonight. I just don’t know what I did wrong and I don’t want to leave but I know I’m going to and I don’t want to go without- well, you know, like- I mean, I really want you, and I don’t-"
David kisses him, if only to cut him off. Jason tastes sweet, but then he already knew that. Kissing Jason is very warm and very wet, and if truth be told rather sloppy, as Jason is so eager (and so enthusiastic, and so young.) David feels young as Jason pushes David’s mouth open with his tongue (Jason always goes for the tongue), and then their tongues are together, hot and sweet and sliding bright behind David’s eyelids as his eyes close, as their hips slide together even hotter, more electric.
David could kiss Jason forever just like this, sliding and grappling and all gasping and whispers, but Jason is impatient, trying to pull at David’s shirt. David can understand (although not the part about wanting David shirtless, what with the lack of the washboard abs and all), he can understand the urgency of Jason’s need, because his body feels the sparks Jason’s body is feeling. Their bodies together are a beautiful thing, awkward and clumsy and beautiful, and the need for skin on skin gets more exquisitely painful with each thrust of their hips, each sudden press of friction against his cock.
He is hard enough to be stupid, which is a relief, frankly. Stupid and his mind is clear, looking down at Jason whose shirt he has now managed to wrestle off is a relief because Jason makes everything seem so clear, just desire and want with no guilt, no complications. Jason is naked beneath him and things are simple. They are friends and they make each other laugh. Jason is gorgeous. Jason for some incomprehensible reason has a thing for David. They’ve finally managed to get each other alone. They are going to fuck. Yes, that is extremely simple. Beautiful is Jason’s cock in David’s hand, Jason’s moans and whimpers and laughter, Jason’s long slender thighs opening.
‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty,’ David thinks, but then he is laughing, too, because God, that is such bullshit. It’s the worst bullshit he’s ever heard in his life. Beauty is not truth. He does not know what it is, and frankly, as a rock singer rather than a philosopher, he’s not particularly pressed to find out. What he does know is that it feels beautiful to be inside Jason, and if this body beneath him is not the truth, well, he will take what he can get.
And of course he will, because this is going all wrong, not with their bodies but in David’s mind. It is wrong for David’s mind to still have this weight because the word that has always been between him and Jason is ‘light,’ things between them are fun and as far from serious as possible. That was the way it was supposed to be, it was the way David had always imagined it, and he did imagine it, all smiles and calm, and yes, Jason’s eyes make him calm. He forces himself to laugh, and to plunge inside them.
It is fun. Jason is so responsive, so flexible and yet so graceless beneath David, so hungry for touch and pressure and more, more, more, he wants more of David inside him, whatever David can give him, more of David, David, David, Jason gasps for more with a smile. David feels not only sexy but powerful, and he comes to barely remember what had been making this moment and his fantasy different. "Billie Jean" swims through his head, through his lips and fingers and skin, every twisted note in its sublime perfection, the ocean and the burnt gold of Jason’s hair as if seen underwater, the grit of their bodies together as if- as if, well, as if skin against sand, and the ridiculousness of the metaphors is something he can laugh at without forcing himself.
He could laugh at these tripping combinations of words forever, because he takes himself too seriously, he really does. And that’s something Jason never does, and David adores him for it. ‘I adore you,’ he thinks fiercely at Jason, and Jason replies with a twist of his hips, and a widening of his eyes. More beautiful than anything might just be Jason’s eyelashes, and their shadows across Jason’s cheeks. If David could, he would lick those shadows away. What the world could be, if there was a licking away of shadows.
What David does know is that Jason makes him thankful for his store of words, because although a thousand words could never suffice to describe Jason in this moment, but he knows the one word that could come the closest: Jason is effervescent. Or Jason is, simply enough: Jason really and truly is, because Jason is now. Jason’s mind is nowhere else except this moment and its heat, except his uncomplicated desire and its uncomplicated satiation. There is nothing complicated about the way Jason melts beneath him, and their foreheads come to rest together, and smile sighs into smile.
He is smiling as he comes, a laugh that turns to a scream as the sparks that have been gathering like fireflies beneath his skin all slam together, the implosion of a thousand facets of light into the single most dazzling, most ephemeral of diamonds. Oblivion is what David would call it, and he wishes he could keep the metaphors out of his head, but he rather likes this one, all things considered. It’s verbose, and rather too inclined to romanticism, but he does wish he could believe in the idea of oblivion.
"David?"
Michael is standing at the door, wet. He is holding a towel around his waist, which he somehow manages to keep up, despite his utter shock. The shock is comical across Michael’s face, David thinks, almost vindictively. That surprise could only be the surprise of an Australian. But no, it’s not like he wanted Michael to see this, or to know this part of him. He can’t say that they know each other, not really. For all the nights they’ve stayed up talking, Michael barely even knows that David has an older brother.
"What up?" says David, ridiculously, and his eyes meet Michael’s. Their eyes stay together, one second, two, and then Michael mumbles an apology and walks back out.
Jason, who came some time ago, lets his face fall into David’s shoulder, and drifts off to sleep.
Author: Starbrigid
Pairing: David Cook/Jason Castro, implied David Cook/Michael Johns
Rating: R
Summary: "Be careful who you love."
Disclaimer: If only it were true.
Author's Note: Hello all! -waves- Nice to meet you! -poke poke-
This is the second part of a planned "epic" lol which will just like go through all the possible pairings of remaining guys, because I love them so -weebles- It's called "Song Choice" (so important fyi ^^) because each part is based on a song one of the guys sang. The first part, which is David and Michael, can be found here:
http://community.livejournal.com/idolslash/540554.html#cutid1
There's also a little David/Jason in that part, too.
Sorry it got so angsty, btw. (And for the customary floridity of teh prose lol) Angstiness not planned. Deals w/ David's brother and stuff, which I hope is cool. Sorry if it isn't... Please read and enjoy!
Song Choice
Starbrigid
I. David Cook
2. Billie Jean
My mother always told me, be careful who you love
Be careful what you do because the lies become the truth
"This is what you call a bad idea," David says, but he doesn’t mean it. When else are they going to find the time alone? They’ve been goofing around and flirting for weeks, but all they’ve been able to do is to steal a few hurried kisses behind doors and mirrors. Finally, though, they’re the only two guys in the room, and if not now, when?
It’s after Top 10 night, and David has been brilliant. Or at least that’s what the judges said. He believed them, even if their raving about his originality was slightly perturbing in the face of having copied the arrangement from Chris Cornell. Singing "Billie Jean" was such a rush, though, the kind of rush he had thought impossible for a jaded old guy like him. ("You’re not old!" Ramiele would squeal. "You’re nice and perfect and snuggly!") The rush still hasn’t worn away, nor has the languid, sexy feeling he gets when he performs, the elation and all that confidence. He is so in love with himself right now and no matter who could walk in, he deserves this. He doesn’t want this feeling to go away, not when there are so many things this feeling is helping him forget.
"Hey, stop that," says David, and doesn’t mean it. Of course thinking of what he wants to forget makes him think of Adam, and the news that’s supposed to come next week, the news that probably isn’t going to be good. He remembers the first time Adam had cancer and he can’t believe how easy it all seemed then, how quickly he could put it out of his mind. Now, the idea of it is a constant weight upon him.
Granted, the weight isn’t always bad. Sometimes it’s the same old cliche that, as a master of cliches, David has used so many times: the knowledge is a weight on his back, threatening to make him stumble and fold beneath it. Other times the weight lives in his legs, and makes them drag beneath him like sacks, independent of the rest of his body. Sometimes the weight slides up to his stomach, and he feels dazed, nauseous, like he could never eat again (but being David, the thought soon passes.) The only time the weight is really bad is when it settles in his chest or throat and he feels like he could not sing if the entire world was watching, like his vocal chords have been smashed to pieces- like there is someone slowly but surely choking his voice away. But David is not thinking about that, though, because he can’t, not now. When this beautiful boy touches him, David could almost convince himself that the weight has disappeared.
"Jason Castro’s not my love," David sings, sotto voce. "He’s just a boy…" and Jason nearly chokes himself laughing.
"David, you’re funny, man," says Jason. "Really funny. But, like, hurry up."
"What’s the rush?" David breathes, feeling sexy. That’s his favorite thing about Jason, how sexy Jason makes him feel. That and the eyes, of course, which are currently inches away from his. He likes having Jason’s eyes this close. They make him feel calm, because Jason is calm; those eyes are the dazed aqua blue of oceans. (There is David and Adam and Andrew at the beach with their parents when they were little, Andrew and David splashing and Adam nearby on his back, lying there floating.)
Jason’s body is even closer, all long and hard above him, slender hips squirming. Jason’s hair smells sweet, that famous, ludicrous hair that David could have between his fingers whenever he wanted, those long coarse waves of gold; could have spilled across his thighs as Jason’s beautiful mouth swallows him like water, like an eye in the midst of- in the midst of a fathomless storm. (There is the girls screaming as he sings, "I am the one," there is the patterns of notes and chords beneath his fingers that emerge as if spontaneously, like the old cliche of Aphrodite except in that myth she came from Cronus’s blood. There is the blood-like substance that fills the IV they give Adam during chemo, red liquid that drips so slowly it hypnotizes. There is the hypnotizing glare of the lights upon his face, of the explosion of ecstatic sound, of music and sex and forgetting.)
"Earth to David," says Jason, and David rolls them over. Jason stares up at him, cheeks flushed, and David notices for the first time that those calming blue eyes are in fact rather miserable.
"What’s wrong?" David breathes, and presses a kiss into Jason’s neck. Jason sighs, and squirms.
"I’m going home. And I’m kinda going a little crazy over it. I’m so nervous. And I know you don’t know what that’s like, ‘cause you’re always so great, and I’m not jealous, I swear, I really do think you’re great, and you were amazing tonight. I just don’t know what I did wrong and I don’t want to leave but I know I’m going to and I don’t want to go without- well, you know, like- I mean, I really want you, and I don’t-"
David kisses him, if only to cut him off. Jason tastes sweet, but then he already knew that. Kissing Jason is very warm and very wet, and if truth be told rather sloppy, as Jason is so eager (and so enthusiastic, and so young.) David feels young as Jason pushes David’s mouth open with his tongue (Jason always goes for the tongue), and then their tongues are together, hot and sweet and sliding bright behind David’s eyelids as his eyes close, as their hips slide together even hotter, more electric.
David could kiss Jason forever just like this, sliding and grappling and all gasping and whispers, but Jason is impatient, trying to pull at David’s shirt. David can understand (although not the part about wanting David shirtless, what with the lack of the washboard abs and all), he can understand the urgency of Jason’s need, because his body feels the sparks Jason’s body is feeling. Their bodies together are a beautiful thing, awkward and clumsy and beautiful, and the need for skin on skin gets more exquisitely painful with each thrust of their hips, each sudden press of friction against his cock.
He is hard enough to be stupid, which is a relief, frankly. Stupid and his mind is clear, looking down at Jason whose shirt he has now managed to wrestle off is a relief because Jason makes everything seem so clear, just desire and want with no guilt, no complications. Jason is naked beneath him and things are simple. They are friends and they make each other laugh. Jason is gorgeous. Jason for some incomprehensible reason has a thing for David. They’ve finally managed to get each other alone. They are going to fuck. Yes, that is extremely simple. Beautiful is Jason’s cock in David’s hand, Jason’s moans and whimpers and laughter, Jason’s long slender thighs opening.
‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty,’ David thinks, but then he is laughing, too, because God, that is such bullshit. It’s the worst bullshit he’s ever heard in his life. Beauty is not truth. He does not know what it is, and frankly, as a rock singer rather than a philosopher, he’s not particularly pressed to find out. What he does know is that it feels beautiful to be inside Jason, and if this body beneath him is not the truth, well, he will take what he can get.
And of course he will, because this is going all wrong, not with their bodies but in David’s mind. It is wrong for David’s mind to still have this weight because the word that has always been between him and Jason is ‘light,’ things between them are fun and as far from serious as possible. That was the way it was supposed to be, it was the way David had always imagined it, and he did imagine it, all smiles and calm, and yes, Jason’s eyes make him calm. He forces himself to laugh, and to plunge inside them.
It is fun. Jason is so responsive, so flexible and yet so graceless beneath David, so hungry for touch and pressure and more, more, more, he wants more of David inside him, whatever David can give him, more of David, David, David, Jason gasps for more with a smile. David feels not only sexy but powerful, and he comes to barely remember what had been making this moment and his fantasy different. "Billie Jean" swims through his head, through his lips and fingers and skin, every twisted note in its sublime perfection, the ocean and the burnt gold of Jason’s hair as if seen underwater, the grit of their bodies together as if- as if, well, as if skin against sand, and the ridiculousness of the metaphors is something he can laugh at without forcing himself.
He could laugh at these tripping combinations of words forever, because he takes himself too seriously, he really does. And that’s something Jason never does, and David adores him for it. ‘I adore you,’ he thinks fiercely at Jason, and Jason replies with a twist of his hips, and a widening of his eyes. More beautiful than anything might just be Jason’s eyelashes, and their shadows across Jason’s cheeks. If David could, he would lick those shadows away. What the world could be, if there was a licking away of shadows.
What David does know is that Jason makes him thankful for his store of words, because although a thousand words could never suffice to describe Jason in this moment, but he knows the one word that could come the closest: Jason is effervescent. Or Jason is, simply enough: Jason really and truly is, because Jason is now. Jason’s mind is nowhere else except this moment and its heat, except his uncomplicated desire and its uncomplicated satiation. There is nothing complicated about the way Jason melts beneath him, and their foreheads come to rest together, and smile sighs into smile.
He is smiling as he comes, a laugh that turns to a scream as the sparks that have been gathering like fireflies beneath his skin all slam together, the implosion of a thousand facets of light into the single most dazzling, most ephemeral of diamonds. Oblivion is what David would call it, and he wishes he could keep the metaphors out of his head, but he rather likes this one, all things considered. It’s verbose, and rather too inclined to romanticism, but he does wish he could believe in the idea of oblivion.
"David?"
Michael is standing at the door, wet. He is holding a towel around his waist, which he somehow manages to keep up, despite his utter shock. The shock is comical across Michael’s face, David thinks, almost vindictively. That surprise could only be the surprise of an Australian. But no, it’s not like he wanted Michael to see this, or to know this part of him. He can’t say that they know each other, not really. For all the nights they’ve stayed up talking, Michael barely even knows that David has an older brother.
"What up?" says David, ridiculously, and his eyes meet Michael’s. Their eyes stay together, one second, two, and then Michael mumbles an apology and walks back out.
Jason, who came some time ago, lets his face fall into David’s shoulder, and drifts off to sleep.