Oh, You Heard That? [PG13]
Title: Oh, You Heard That?
Author: Alex Sorensen (ilytheira)
Summary: David receives a phone call.
Rating: PG13 (language, mainly)
Disclaimer: Once again~ it'd be nice to own David and Michael. Or Michael. :-D However, the world just isn't cooperating with me yet.
Author's Notes: Last night's episode was ♥, and David's performance was definitely brilliant. I didn't have enough words to describe how breathtaking it was. This was the best way I could deal with the rush of Flyboy emotions. I had initially intended to post this last night, but I was simply too tired, so here it is, a day later than intended, but here nonetheless. :-D
After the top seven returns to their apartment --it took a large amount of convincing to get David away from Adam, who hugged him so very tight that even though they had let each other go, David could still feel his brother's arms around him-- David smiles contentedly. The song had released so many emotions that he had no way of expressing since last week --the fact that Ryan had asked them about how life was after Michael's elimination had somewhat left him emotional before his song-- and the weight on his heart is no longer as heavy as it had been.
Damn, David thinks as he lies down on his bed, exhaling loudly. I hope I did you proud, Adam. And as soon as the thought leaves his head, another quickly enters. How do you think I did, Michael? Did I do you proud?
It bothers David that he can no longer ask Michael for his opinion, and it bothers David even more that Michael is no longer asking for his opinion. Up until last week, Michael has been giving David the most important opinions on his performances. And then last Thursday happens-- no. David refuses to dwell on it. He is supposed to be happy tonight. His brother was at his performance. Think about him. Adam, Adam, Adam --Michael.
His phone rings, and David almost jumps out of his skin. Fishing the phone out of all of his other things to the side of his bed --he will admit to anybody who asks that he hasn't been tidying up--has had nobody to tidy up for him--hasn't felt like tidying up--it is such a miracle that he finds it-- he looks at the flashing screen, and his eyes widen.
Mikey, the screen declares, Michael's number flashing underneath his name. Mikey calling.
Taking a deep breath and steadying himself --it has taken David this long to realize that he has been unsteadily uncontrollably unstably shaking-- he answers the phone with a tentative, "Michael?"
"Hey," Michael answers, and even from the other side of the telephone, his Australian accent sends shivers down David's spine, "I --uhm-- I wanted to say good job, you know, for --ah-- tonight."
It takes David a while before he can form a response, leading Michael to ask, "David? Dave? You there?"
"Oh! Ah --yeah, yeah, I'm here, Mikey," he replies. "Uh, thanks. For the, 'good job,' you know." Finding nothing else to say, he continues, "You were watching."
"Yeah, of course," Michael tells him, and the incredulous tone in his voice makes David blush. "Of course I was watching, Dave. That song --I, well, you know--"
"Yeah, I know." David smiles at Michael's indirectness. "Jeez, Mikey. We don't see each other for a week, and suddenly, you're so nervous talking to me. Have we just met?"
Michael laughs, and David along with him. "No, it isn't that," the Australian assures him, "I just, you know, didn't know how to say it. You know I have a problem with words sometimes."
David erupts in laughter and repeats, "Yeah, I know." You're probably blushing right now, aren't you?
"I got to see Adam," Michael offers in a lame attempt to recover from his last statement, "and I'm glad he was there to watch you."
"Me, too," David responds. "I wish you could've been there, though."
"I wish I could've been there, too," Michael says, and David almost drops the phone, "Oh, you heard that?"
"You have this habit of thinking out loud and not realizing you've said something. I think it's adorable, really."
"I don't know whether I should take that as a compliment or an insult," David tries to say indignantly, but Michael has already dissolved into another round of laughter.
"I don't think I properly said this earlier," Michael muses, "but I think I was attempting to say I liked your song."
For a split second, David is unsure of how to approach his response, but manages, "I know."
"Is that so?" Michael's tone is --teasing, as though he already knows what David is going to say.
"Yeah," David repeats again. What the hell am I? David thinks, and then instantly believes that the only coherent phrases he's formed have been "Yeah" and "I know." He knows there are more, of course, but he feels like such a fool --for one bittersweet moment, David is glad Michael is not there so the Australian can't see the blush on his face; Why are you sad? You would've loved for him to see that blush on your face, because you know, whenever you're blushing around him, he kisses you, and it goes away.
"Michael?" David flinches as he hears a woman's voice on the other side.
When Michael answers, his voice is muffled, and David can tell that he's moved the phone away from his mouth. It doesn't help any, though, because David knows that the woman can only be Stacey. He fights back the rush of emotions, swallowing, gulping them down, and then says all too quickly, "Yeah, yeah, I'm here," when Michael calls his name.
"Dave, you okay?" Michael questions, worry evident in his voice.
David takes a deep breath, and then says --Here you go again, David Cook; what's the matter with you?-- "Uh --yeah-- yeah, I'm fine."
"Are you s--?"
"Yeah, I'm fine, Mike." David cannot help the snappish tone, and immediately realizing what he has done, he begins to say, "Mike, I'm so--"
"Don't worry about it, Dave." Michael's response is meek, quiet --hurt. Shit, David, what the hell did you do? "Uh --so, yeah-- I've got to go." No, no, wait, Michael, I'm so sorry. "I just --uh-- I just want to let you know that I'm behind you one hundred fifty percent, Dave. You can do it. Okay?"
"I --it's nice to know that." David uses his other hand to hold the phone up to his other ear, wiping his sweaty palm on his jeans. "That you're there. Supporting me." "I love you."
Michael chuckles. "Love you, too, David."
Before David can say anything, the line clicks, and Michael's voice is gone.
'You have this habit of thinking out loud and not realizing you've said something,' remember?
David's annoyance at himself dissolves into a light joy as he thinks, But he says it's 'adorable,' so I guess it's all right.
Author: Alex Sorensen (ilytheira)
Summary: David receives a phone call.
Rating: PG13 (language, mainly)
Disclaimer: Once again~ it'd be nice to own David and Michael. Or Michael. :-D However, the world just isn't cooperating with me yet.
Author's Notes: Last night's episode was ♥, and David's performance was definitely brilliant. I didn't have enough words to describe how breathtaking it was. This was the best way I could deal with the rush of Flyboy emotions. I had initially intended to post this last night, but I was simply too tired, so here it is, a day later than intended, but here nonetheless. :-D
After the top seven returns to their apartment --it took a large amount of convincing to get David away from Adam, who hugged him so very tight that even though they had let each other go, David could still feel his brother's arms around him-- David smiles contentedly. The song had released so many emotions that he had no way of expressing since last week --the fact that Ryan had asked them about how life was after Michael's elimination had somewhat left him emotional before his song-- and the weight on his heart is no longer as heavy as it had been.
Damn, David thinks as he lies down on his bed, exhaling loudly. I hope I did you proud, Adam. And as soon as the thought leaves his head, another quickly enters. How do you think I did, Michael? Did I do you proud?
It bothers David that he can no longer ask Michael for his opinion, and it bothers David even more that Michael is no longer asking for his opinion. Up until last week, Michael has been giving David the most important opinions on his performances. And then last Thursday happens-- no. David refuses to dwell on it. He is supposed to be happy tonight. His brother was at his performance. Think about him. Adam, Adam, Adam --Michael.
His phone rings, and David almost jumps out of his skin. Fishing the phone out of all of his other things to the side of his bed --he will admit to anybody who asks that he hasn't been tidying up--has had nobody to tidy up for him--hasn't felt like tidying up--it is such a miracle that he finds it-- he looks at the flashing screen, and his eyes widen.
Mikey, the screen declares, Michael's number flashing underneath his name. Mikey calling.
Taking a deep breath and steadying himself --it has taken David this long to realize that he has been unsteadily uncontrollably unstably shaking-- he answers the phone with a tentative, "Michael?"
"Hey," Michael answers, and even from the other side of the telephone, his Australian accent sends shivers down David's spine, "I --uhm-- I wanted to say good job, you know, for --ah-- tonight."
It takes David a while before he can form a response, leading Michael to ask, "David? Dave? You there?"
"Oh! Ah --yeah, yeah, I'm here, Mikey," he replies. "Uh, thanks. For the, 'good job,' you know." Finding nothing else to say, he continues, "You were watching."
"Yeah, of course," Michael tells him, and the incredulous tone in his voice makes David blush. "Of course I was watching, Dave. That song --I, well, you know--"
"Yeah, I know." David smiles at Michael's indirectness. "Jeez, Mikey. We don't see each other for a week, and suddenly, you're so nervous talking to me. Have we just met?"
Michael laughs, and David along with him. "No, it isn't that," the Australian assures him, "I just, you know, didn't know how to say it. You know I have a problem with words sometimes."
David erupts in laughter and repeats, "Yeah, I know." You're probably blushing right now, aren't you?
"I got to see Adam," Michael offers in a lame attempt to recover from his last statement, "and I'm glad he was there to watch you."
"Me, too," David responds. "I wish you could've been there, though."
"I wish I could've been there, too," Michael says, and David almost drops the phone, "Oh, you heard that?"
"You have this habit of thinking out loud and not realizing you've said something. I think it's adorable, really."
"I don't know whether I should take that as a compliment or an insult," David tries to say indignantly, but Michael has already dissolved into another round of laughter.
"I don't think I properly said this earlier," Michael muses, "but I think I was attempting to say I liked your song."
For a split second, David is unsure of how to approach his response, but manages, "I know."
"Is that so?" Michael's tone is --teasing, as though he already knows what David is going to say.
"Yeah," David repeats again. What the hell am I? David thinks, and then instantly believes that the only coherent phrases he's formed have been "Yeah" and "I know." He knows there are more, of course, but he feels like such a fool --for one bittersweet moment, David is glad Michael is not there so the Australian can't see the blush on his face; Why are you sad? You would've loved for him to see that blush on your face, because you know, whenever you're blushing around him, he kisses you, and it goes away.
"Michael?" David flinches as he hears a woman's voice on the other side.
When Michael answers, his voice is muffled, and David can tell that he's moved the phone away from his mouth. It doesn't help any, though, because David knows that the woman can only be Stacey. He fights back the rush of emotions, swallowing, gulping them down, and then says all too quickly, "Yeah, yeah, I'm here," when Michael calls his name.
"Dave, you okay?" Michael questions, worry evident in his voice.
David takes a deep breath, and then says --Here you go again, David Cook; what's the matter with you?-- "Uh --yeah-- yeah, I'm fine."
"Are you s--?"
"Yeah, I'm fine, Mike." David cannot help the snappish tone, and immediately realizing what he has done, he begins to say, "Mike, I'm so--"
"Don't worry about it, Dave." Michael's response is meek, quiet --hurt. Shit, David, what the hell did you do? "Uh --so, yeah-- I've got to go." No, no, wait, Michael, I'm so sorry. "I just --uh-- I just want to let you know that I'm behind you one hundred fifty percent, Dave. You can do it. Okay?"
"I --it's nice to know that." David uses his other hand to hold the phone up to his other ear, wiping his sweaty palm on his jeans. "That you're there. Supporting me." "I love you."
Michael chuckles. "Love you, too, David."
Before David can say anything, the line clicks, and Michael's voice is gone.
'You have this habit of thinking out loud and not realizing you've said something,' remember?
David's annoyance at himself dissolves into a light joy as he thinks, But he says it's 'adorable,' so I guess it's all right.