Becoming (1/1)
Title: Becoming (1/1)
Author: lavieboh_eme
Rating: PG-13, because of swearing and ONE TINY LITTLE kiss
Word Count: 1, 752
Pairing: David Cook/David Archuleta, David Cook/Jason Castro
Summary: After David Archuleta’s bombed “We Can Work It Out” David Cook is there to pick up the pieces.
Disclaimer: I do not own David Cook, David Archuleta, Jeff Archuleta, Michael Johns, or Jason Castro. The events that take place in this story are COMPLETELY FICTIONAL.
Notes: Whether or not the Davids both have fathers that treat them like crap, I have absolutely no idea. It just made for a good story. This is also my first Idol fanfic, so go easy on me. : )
“Dad, I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? What the hell was that out there?”
Jeff Archuleta’s shouts were overheard by a passing-by David Cook. The man stopped and pressed his ear against the closed door to get a better listen.
“We went over these words a thousand times, David. How could you just forget them? How could you completely embarrass us out there?”
“It’s just been a rough week.”
“A rough week, my ass! Hey, look at me when I’m talking to you!”
David Cook supposed that the young boy had looked away from his overbearing father. He closed his eyes and let out a painful sigh.
“I’m tired. That’s all.”
“Tired? You’re really going to blame that shit on being tired?”
“We stayed up until four working on it last night, and I haven’t had a chance to rest all day. I just need a break.”
“You need to practice! You need to win, David! Isn’t that what you want? Isn’t that why we’re here? Isn’t that why I’m busting my ass all night working with you?”
“I want to win.”
“Good. A performance that like tonight's will not happen again. Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
Cook heard the disgruntled man moving toward the door and stepped away abruptly. Mr. Archuleta brushed right past him as if he wasn’t even there. The door was left ajar, and he could now see his fellow David sitting on the bed, his back to the door.
The older man knew this was a sign. He had to comfort the kid. He clapped his hands together and proceeded into the room.
“Archie?”
The young man wiped his eyes and turned to his visitor.
“Oh, hi, David. Come in.”
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine to me. Do you want to talk about it?”
Archuleta stood, grabbed some shirts from a laundry basket, and began folding them.
“What’s there to talk about?”
Cook leaned against a wall, facing the younger man’s pathetic clothes-folding attempt.
“I heard the fight you had with your dad.”
“It’s no big deal, David.”
“Yeah, it is. You deserve better than that.”
The younger David’s chin fell to his chest, and he shook his head in disagreement.
“Really, you do. You have an amazing voice. You’re seventeen, and you’re so incredibly talented. He should be bowing down at your feet!”
“Well, it’s not as good as yours. My dad would kill to have a son who sang like you do all the time.”
“I doubt that.”
“No, really, you were amazing tonight. He told me how much he loved your performance.”
“Come on, Dave, don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?”
“Don’t put yourself down like that! Your dad’s a jackass. You’re a fantastic singer.”
“You don’t get it.”
“I don’t get it? Look, man, my dad was an asshole too. I probably get it more than anyone else you could talk to here. Alright? Listen to me, David, you're great, really. When you sang ‘Imagine’ I was completely blown away. That was probably the greatest song I’ve ever heard in my entire life. I completely mean that.”
“Stop it.”
“I do. I really mean it. If you let your down get you down, though, you’re not going to make it. You have to believe that you’re talented, that you can win. Do you believe that?”
“I don’t know. It’s just, he’s always got something to criticize. Even after my best performances, he has something bad to say. It just gets to me sometimes. And tonight, I really screwed up. Right after I forgot those words, I knew that all hell had broken lose, at least in my dad’s mind.”
He paused.
“David?”
“Yeah?”
“Did your dad ever hit you or anything?”
“What? Why do you ask?”
“I just need you to look at something for me.”
“Um, yeah, sure, buddy. Whatever you need.”
The young man took off his shirt, revealing already bruising arms.
“Don’t worry. It’s not a big deal. A little too rough of a shake, that’s all. I just wanted to see if you knew how badly they’d bruise.”
Tears filled up in the older man’s eyes as he inspected the fragile arms. He remembered every shitty night of his childhood. Provoking his father so he wouldn’t start on his mother or brothers, being told he’d never amount to anything... Archuleta was reliving it all, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
The Davids could hear two men bickering in the hallway, one with an Australian accent and the other incredibly mellow sounding.
“I just don’t think that’s the best Bob Dylan song!” the Aussie said.
“Riiiight, because you’d know everything there is to know about Dylan. You’re from Australia, for fuck’s sake.”
“Oh please. We have music in Australia, you know. All I’m saying is that he’s written so many songs. I can name at least twenty songs better than ‘Mr. Tambourine Man’. Look, we’ll ask Archuleta. Hey, Archie! Archie! Woah, sorry, mate, didn’t mean to barge in on something.”
Michael and Jason were stunned to see David and David together, one shirtless, the other on the verge of tears.
David Cook walked toward Michael and an open-mouthed Jason while Archie struggled to put his shirt back on.
“No, it’s cool. What do you guys need?”
“Did you - ? Are you - ? Wh - ?”
“God, Jason, your language skills are phenomenal,” Michael replied.
“Shut the fuck up, Michael.”
“Hey, stop it, both of you. No, Jase, okay? No.”
David waited until he knew the Aussie wasn’t looking and flashed Jason an “I would never cheat on you” wink.
“Guys, could you do something for me?”
“Sure,” Michael piped up.
“Go downstairs and get a bag of ice.”
“What do you need a bag of ice for?”
“Don’t worry about it, Jason. Please just do this for me, alright?”
The Aussie and dreadlocked boy shrugged and left to meet David’s request.
Cookie turned back to the now clothed Archuleta. Cook grabbed a pair of Archie’s pants and started folding along side of him.
“Those bruises will be gone soon, I promise.”
“That was so embarrassing.”
“What? Castro and Johns? Don’t worry about it. They won’t tell anyone.”
“But they know.”
“No, they don’t know anything. I won’t tell them anything.”
“Thanks. You know, you’ve been so nice to me, and I feel like I’ve never done anything at all for you.”
“Don’t sweat it, little man.”
Cook tousled the boy’s hair and embraced him in a gentler form of the “man hug”. David Archuleta wasn’t used to being so warmly close to someone like this and immediately became overwhelmed, erupting in a fit of tears.
“God, I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, his face buried in the rocker’s chest.
“Shhh,” he soothed, “it’s okay. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
Archuleta tried to move away, but Cook held him tighter.
“Everything’s okay. It’s not your fault.”
“It is!” he cried, “It really is. I’ve fucked everything up.”
“You have not. You’ll go through to the next round. You’ll be great next week!”
“That’s not it! That’s not it at all!”
Cook calmly pushed Archuleta away and rested his hands on the boy’s shoulders.
“Then what is it?”
“It’s this! It’s us!”
“Us? David, are you - ?”
“Oh, oh, oh, oh, no! No, no, no! Not like, no! That’s not what I meant! I know you and Jason are -”
“Then what do you mean?” he smiled.
“I meant, like, as friends. You guys are just so cool. You, and Jason, and Michael. I wanted to be a part of that. But, not now. I mean, I’ve just cried all over you. You can’t possibly want to have anything to do with me.”
“That’s so nuts, David. You’re cool! You’re really cool! The way you sing, the way you present yourself. Do you know how many girls would kill to do you, man?”
The two guys laughed and sat down on the bed. The older David wrapped his arm around the younger David’s shoulders. The two had been so occupied that they had not heard the approaching Michael and Jason.
“What the hell is this? Some kind of David lovefest?”
“Calm down, moron,” the Aussie drawled.
“What did I tell you about shutting the fuck up?”
“Do they do this a lot?” Archie asked.
“Every single day. Guys, cool it! Ice?”
Michael gave Cook the now water filled bag and stuttered a laugh.
“Heh, um, oops?”
David Cook sighed and laughed. He tossed the bag into the trash can and looked back at Archuleta. The two men stood and Cook pushed Archie towards Michael and Jason.
“Boys, meet David Archuleta. David Archuleta, meet the boys.”
Michael, Jason, and Archuleta all smiled at each other and looked at Cookie, knowing what he meant for them to do.
“I think we’ve met before. The name’s Johns, Michael Johns,” he said in his most sophisticated Bond impersonation as he slyly shook the boy’s hand.
“Haha, hi.”
Jason grabbed Archie's hand.
“Here’s looking at you, kid,” he laughed, “You can call me Jason.”
“Good! Now that we’re all friends, let’s get something to eat. I’m starving.”
“Sounds great! What shall we eat?” Michael asked.
“Let’s order Chinese!” Jason replied.
Michael turned to Jason and grabbed his face.
“Oh my God. That’s actually what I was going to say!”
“You’re shitting me!”
“No, I’m totally not!”
“You’re from Australia! How could you possibly love Chinese food?”
“You’re from America! How could you possibly love Chinese food?”
“Touché!”
The two men engaged in a huge hug and turned to leave. Michael remembered the two Davids and turned back around at them.
“You guys coming?”
“Yeah, just give us a minute,” David Cook replied.
“We’ll go ahead and order the food. Is a lot of everything alright?”
“Of course!"
Michael and Jason left the room, shutting the door behind them.
“Are you sure you’re alright?”
Archie slipped his arms around David Cook’s waist and looked straight into his eyes, “I’m perfect.”
David Cook rested his lips tenderly on the young boy’s forehead, and the two left for a fantastic evening ahead.
Epilogue…
Several weeks later…
Michael Johns was alone. He reclined back in his easy chair and took a sip from his scotch. It was a Tuesday, and he was unthinkingly flipping through the channels. At a familiar voice, he stopped.
“Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me…”
He sat up, scoffed, and slapped his hands on his knees.
“Son of a bitch.”
END!
Comments would be amazing! : D
Author: lavieboh_eme
Rating: PG-13, because of swearing and ONE TINY LITTLE kiss
Word Count: 1, 752
Pairing: David Cook/David Archuleta, David Cook/Jason Castro
Summary: After David Archuleta’s bombed “We Can Work It Out” David Cook is there to pick up the pieces.
Disclaimer: I do not own David Cook, David Archuleta, Jeff Archuleta, Michael Johns, or Jason Castro. The events that take place in this story are COMPLETELY FICTIONAL.
Notes: Whether or not the Davids both have fathers that treat them like crap, I have absolutely no idea. It just made for a good story. This is also my first Idol fanfic, so go easy on me. : )
“Dad, I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? What the hell was that out there?”
Jeff Archuleta’s shouts were overheard by a passing-by David Cook. The man stopped and pressed his ear against the closed door to get a better listen.
“We went over these words a thousand times, David. How could you just forget them? How could you completely embarrass us out there?”
“It’s just been a rough week.”
“A rough week, my ass! Hey, look at me when I’m talking to you!”
David Cook supposed that the young boy had looked away from his overbearing father. He closed his eyes and let out a painful sigh.
“I’m tired. That’s all.”
“Tired? You’re really going to blame that shit on being tired?”
“We stayed up until four working on it last night, and I haven’t had a chance to rest all day. I just need a break.”
“You need to practice! You need to win, David! Isn’t that what you want? Isn’t that why we’re here? Isn’t that why I’m busting my ass all night working with you?”
“I want to win.”
“Good. A performance that like tonight's will not happen again. Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
Cook heard the disgruntled man moving toward the door and stepped away abruptly. Mr. Archuleta brushed right past him as if he wasn’t even there. The door was left ajar, and he could now see his fellow David sitting on the bed, his back to the door.
The older man knew this was a sign. He had to comfort the kid. He clapped his hands together and proceeded into the room.
“Archie?”
The young man wiped his eyes and turned to his visitor.
“Oh, hi, David. Come in.”
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine to me. Do you want to talk about it?”
Archuleta stood, grabbed some shirts from a laundry basket, and began folding them.
“What’s there to talk about?”
Cook leaned against a wall, facing the younger man’s pathetic clothes-folding attempt.
“I heard the fight you had with your dad.”
“It’s no big deal, David.”
“Yeah, it is. You deserve better than that.”
The younger David’s chin fell to his chest, and he shook his head in disagreement.
“Really, you do. You have an amazing voice. You’re seventeen, and you’re so incredibly talented. He should be bowing down at your feet!”
“Well, it’s not as good as yours. My dad would kill to have a son who sang like you do all the time.”
“I doubt that.”
“No, really, you were amazing tonight. He told me how much he loved your performance.”
“Come on, Dave, don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?”
“Don’t put yourself down like that! Your dad’s a jackass. You’re a fantastic singer.”
“You don’t get it.”
“I don’t get it? Look, man, my dad was an asshole too. I probably get it more than anyone else you could talk to here. Alright? Listen to me, David, you're great, really. When you sang ‘Imagine’ I was completely blown away. That was probably the greatest song I’ve ever heard in my entire life. I completely mean that.”
“Stop it.”
“I do. I really mean it. If you let your down get you down, though, you’re not going to make it. You have to believe that you’re talented, that you can win. Do you believe that?”
“I don’t know. It’s just, he’s always got something to criticize. Even after my best performances, he has something bad to say. It just gets to me sometimes. And tonight, I really screwed up. Right after I forgot those words, I knew that all hell had broken lose, at least in my dad’s mind.”
He paused.
“David?”
“Yeah?”
“Did your dad ever hit you or anything?”
“What? Why do you ask?”
“I just need you to look at something for me.”
“Um, yeah, sure, buddy. Whatever you need.”
The young man took off his shirt, revealing already bruising arms.
“Don’t worry. It’s not a big deal. A little too rough of a shake, that’s all. I just wanted to see if you knew how badly they’d bruise.”
Tears filled up in the older man’s eyes as he inspected the fragile arms. He remembered every shitty night of his childhood. Provoking his father so he wouldn’t start on his mother or brothers, being told he’d never amount to anything... Archuleta was reliving it all, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
The Davids could hear two men bickering in the hallway, one with an Australian accent and the other incredibly mellow sounding.
“I just don’t think that’s the best Bob Dylan song!” the Aussie said.
“Riiiight, because you’d know everything there is to know about Dylan. You’re from Australia, for fuck’s sake.”
“Oh please. We have music in Australia, you know. All I’m saying is that he’s written so many songs. I can name at least twenty songs better than ‘Mr. Tambourine Man’. Look, we’ll ask Archuleta. Hey, Archie! Archie! Woah, sorry, mate, didn’t mean to barge in on something.”
Michael and Jason were stunned to see David and David together, one shirtless, the other on the verge of tears.
David Cook walked toward Michael and an open-mouthed Jason while Archie struggled to put his shirt back on.
“No, it’s cool. What do you guys need?”
“Did you - ? Are you - ? Wh - ?”
“God, Jason, your language skills are phenomenal,” Michael replied.
“Shut the fuck up, Michael.”
“Hey, stop it, both of you. No, Jase, okay? No.”
David waited until he knew the Aussie wasn’t looking and flashed Jason an “I would never cheat on you” wink.
“Guys, could you do something for me?”
“Sure,” Michael piped up.
“Go downstairs and get a bag of ice.”
“What do you need a bag of ice for?”
“Don’t worry about it, Jason. Please just do this for me, alright?”
The Aussie and dreadlocked boy shrugged and left to meet David’s request.
Cookie turned back to the now clothed Archuleta. Cook grabbed a pair of Archie’s pants and started folding along side of him.
“Those bruises will be gone soon, I promise.”
“That was so embarrassing.”
“What? Castro and Johns? Don’t worry about it. They won’t tell anyone.”
“But they know.”
“No, they don’t know anything. I won’t tell them anything.”
“Thanks. You know, you’ve been so nice to me, and I feel like I’ve never done anything at all for you.”
“Don’t sweat it, little man.”
Cook tousled the boy’s hair and embraced him in a gentler form of the “man hug”. David Archuleta wasn’t used to being so warmly close to someone like this and immediately became overwhelmed, erupting in a fit of tears.
“God, I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, his face buried in the rocker’s chest.
“Shhh,” he soothed, “it’s okay. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
Archuleta tried to move away, but Cook held him tighter.
“Everything’s okay. It’s not your fault.”
“It is!” he cried, “It really is. I’ve fucked everything up.”
“You have not. You’ll go through to the next round. You’ll be great next week!”
“That’s not it! That’s not it at all!”
Cook calmly pushed Archuleta away and rested his hands on the boy’s shoulders.
“Then what is it?”
“It’s this! It’s us!”
“Us? David, are you - ?”
“Oh, oh, oh, oh, no! No, no, no! Not like, no! That’s not what I meant! I know you and Jason are -”
“Then what do you mean?” he smiled.
“I meant, like, as friends. You guys are just so cool. You, and Jason, and Michael. I wanted to be a part of that. But, not now. I mean, I’ve just cried all over you. You can’t possibly want to have anything to do with me.”
“That’s so nuts, David. You’re cool! You’re really cool! The way you sing, the way you present yourself. Do you know how many girls would kill to do you, man?”
The two guys laughed and sat down on the bed. The older David wrapped his arm around the younger David’s shoulders. The two had been so occupied that they had not heard the approaching Michael and Jason.
“What the hell is this? Some kind of David lovefest?”
“Calm down, moron,” the Aussie drawled.
“What did I tell you about shutting the fuck up?”
“Do they do this a lot?” Archie asked.
“Every single day. Guys, cool it! Ice?”
Michael gave Cook the now water filled bag and stuttered a laugh.
“Heh, um, oops?”
David Cook sighed and laughed. He tossed the bag into the trash can and looked back at Archuleta. The two men stood and Cook pushed Archie towards Michael and Jason.
“Boys, meet David Archuleta. David Archuleta, meet the boys.”
Michael, Jason, and Archuleta all smiled at each other and looked at Cookie, knowing what he meant for them to do.
“I think we’ve met before. The name’s Johns, Michael Johns,” he said in his most sophisticated Bond impersonation as he slyly shook the boy’s hand.
“Haha, hi.”
Jason grabbed Archie's hand.
“Here’s looking at you, kid,” he laughed, “You can call me Jason.”
“Good! Now that we’re all friends, let’s get something to eat. I’m starving.”
“Sounds great! What shall we eat?” Michael asked.
“Let’s order Chinese!” Jason replied.
Michael turned to Jason and grabbed his face.
“Oh my God. That’s actually what I was going to say!”
“You’re shitting me!”
“No, I’m totally not!”
“You’re from Australia! How could you possibly love Chinese food?”
“You’re from America! How could you possibly love Chinese food?”
“Touché!”
The two men engaged in a huge hug and turned to leave. Michael remembered the two Davids and turned back around at them.
“You guys coming?”
“Yeah, just give us a minute,” David Cook replied.
“We’ll go ahead and order the food. Is a lot of everything alright?”
“Of course!"
Michael and Jason left the room, shutting the door behind them.
“Are you sure you’re alright?”
Archie slipped his arms around David Cook’s waist and looked straight into his eyes, “I’m perfect.”
David Cook rested his lips tenderly on the young boy’s forehead, and the two left for a fantastic evening ahead.
Epilogue…
Several weeks later…
Michael Johns was alone. He reclined back in his easy chair and took a sip from his scotch. It was a Tuesday, and he was unthinkingly flipping through the channels. At a familiar voice, he stopped.
“Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me…”
He sat up, scoffed, and slapped his hands on his knees.
“Son of a bitch.”
END!
Comments would be amazing! : D