Fic: Social Psychology (1/?)
Title: Social Psychology (1/?)
Pairing: Michael Johns/David Cook
Rating: R overall; PG for now
Disclaimer: Don't own them; all for fun.
Summary: "As diverse as these situations may be, they do contain one common factor: social influence."
Author's Notes: This started out as an idea for a Scrubs fic, but it seemed to fit Mavid better. All definitions are from Elliot Aronson's book, The Social Animal. It's a great read for any psychology geeks. Unbetaed and I haven't written anything besides school papers since August; sorry for any suckiness.
Companionate Love: the feeling of intimacy and affection we feel for another person when we care deeply for the person but do not necessarily experience passion or arousal in his/her presence
He wasn’t surprised at how fast they had become friends. David reminded him of many of his close friends back home, sans the accent and with a dash more swagger. Well, only when prodded.
They had met over bagels and orange juice. Michael had searched the whole room for an empty seat; the only one left was next to the dude with strange hair who constantly had his guitar within arms reach.
“Mind if I sit here?”
“No, not at all.” David moved the plastic cup so Michael could set his plate down. He continued to chew on his everything bagel, lost in his thoughts.
“Michael by the way.”
“David. Cook. There’s a lot of David around here, I’ve noticed.” He smiled at the other man, poppy seed stuck between two of his teeth.
“Erm, you uh, got something there.” Michael pointed to the black spot.
David immediately began to lick his teeth, trying desperately to get the seed out without blushing. “I’m great at first impressions.”
“No worries, the first time I met my wife, my ‘mates neglected to tell me I had a fleck of ketchup on my chin. Bastards.”
David laughed, his cheeks losing the red tint. “I get it?” He bared all his teeth for Michael to inspect.
“Perfect.”
Breakfast became their thing for the rest of the week. David would always arrive first; he made sure to find two seats. They’d sit and talk about home, friends, and family. It was a way for them to forget--if only for an hour--the upcoming auditions.
By the time they had both made it through to the top twenty-four, they had become inseparable. There was no David without a Michael following close behind. The two bonded over touring and family problems; they talked about past loves and fears of the upcoming competition. Over catered meals and red bull boosts, they would confess things usually reserved for old friends, companions who had earned trust over years of friendship.
Their friendship was in hyper-drive, though neither of them minded.
Both of them needed something like this. Michael needed an accomplice to help with pranks on the girls, and well of course the littlest David. David needed someone to talk him through nights when his mom would call him with news of his brother, Adam. They’d need each other to get through Tuesday nights, waiting to hear their fate that was in America’s hands.
“Dave?”
“Mmmm.” He heard the rustling of sheets from the other side of the room.
“You’re like, one of my best friends.”
“Don’t get all mushy on my, Johns. It’s three in the morning, my brain can’t take mushy at this hour.”
“Oh, come on. I’m trying to be all deep here. You’re like, the king of emotional moo-poo so I thought the two of us could have a conversation. Excuse me.”
“Mikey!” David whined and turned on his side so he could face the other man. “Did you just say moo-poo?”
He ignored David and continued on with his train of thought,“It’s been a crazy few months... It’s been nice to have someone to talk to.”
“I concur.” Even in the dark, David could see Michael roll his eyes.
“You just ruined it with your abnormal words.”
“Abnormal? It’s a legitimate answer to your statement.”
“Most people would say ‘I agree,’ but no, you have to break out the big words.”
“It’s six letters long.”
“Ass-hat.” Michael threw his pillow at David.
“Well now, someone’s just going to have to sleep on a bare mattress tonight; you will not be seeing this pillow anytime soon for that.”
“It didn’t even hit you.”
“Still, the intentions were to maim me.”
“There you go again with the damn words!”
From the other room, they heard Jason mumble a groggy ‘shut up.” Both of them bit back laughter.
“I guess this will have to wait until tomorrow.”
“Damn you, Cook.”
“Night, Mike.”
“Can I have my pillow back now?”
“No, it’s mine.” With that, David put the pillow under his head. “Ah, it’s so comfy with two of these to support my neck.”
It was the little things that brought them closer. Pillow talks. Coffee shops. Guitar Hero and Super Smash Brothers. They cared about each other; they looked out for each other. No one got why they were so close. They couldn't explain it either. They just were.
LJ cuts are pissing me off at the moment. I can't fix it. I'm too annoyed to deal with it. UGH. I think I've been working on this for over a half hour. Damn you, LJ. Damn you.
Pairing: Michael Johns/David Cook
Rating: R overall; PG for now
Disclaimer: Don't own them; all for fun.
Summary: "As diverse as these situations may be, they do contain one common factor: social influence."
Author's Notes: This started out as an idea for a Scrubs fic, but it seemed to fit Mavid better. All definitions are from Elliot Aronson's book, The Social Animal. It's a great read for any psychology geeks. Unbetaed and I haven't written anything besides school papers since August; sorry for any suckiness.
Companionate Love: the feeling of intimacy and affection we feel for another person when we care deeply for the person but do not necessarily experience passion or arousal in his/her presence
He wasn’t surprised at how fast they had become friends. David reminded him of many of his close friends back home, sans the accent and with a dash more swagger. Well, only when prodded.
They had met over bagels and orange juice. Michael had searched the whole room for an empty seat; the only one left was next to the dude with strange hair who constantly had his guitar within arms reach.
“Mind if I sit here?”
“No, not at all.” David moved the plastic cup so Michael could set his plate down. He continued to chew on his everything bagel, lost in his thoughts.
“Michael by the way.”
“David. Cook. There’s a lot of David around here, I’ve noticed.” He smiled at the other man, poppy seed stuck between two of his teeth.
“Erm, you uh, got something there.” Michael pointed to the black spot.
David immediately began to lick his teeth, trying desperately to get the seed out without blushing. “I’m great at first impressions.”
“No worries, the first time I met my wife, my ‘mates neglected to tell me I had a fleck of ketchup on my chin. Bastards.”
David laughed, his cheeks losing the red tint. “I get it?” He bared all his teeth for Michael to inspect.
“Perfect.”
Breakfast became their thing for the rest of the week. David would always arrive first; he made sure to find two seats. They’d sit and talk about home, friends, and family. It was a way for them to forget--if only for an hour--the upcoming auditions.
By the time they had both made it through to the top twenty-four, they had become inseparable. There was no David without a Michael following close behind. The two bonded over touring and family problems; they talked about past loves and fears of the upcoming competition. Over catered meals and red bull boosts, they would confess things usually reserved for old friends, companions who had earned trust over years of friendship.
Their friendship was in hyper-drive, though neither of them minded.
Both of them needed something like this. Michael needed an accomplice to help with pranks on the girls, and well of course the littlest David. David needed someone to talk him through nights when his mom would call him with news of his brother, Adam. They’d need each other to get through Tuesday nights, waiting to hear their fate that was in America’s hands.
“Dave?”
“Mmmm.” He heard the rustling of sheets from the other side of the room.
“You’re like, one of my best friends.”
“Don’t get all mushy on my, Johns. It’s three in the morning, my brain can’t take mushy at this hour.”
“Oh, come on. I’m trying to be all deep here. You’re like, the king of emotional moo-poo so I thought the two of us could have a conversation. Excuse me.”
“Mikey!” David whined and turned on his side so he could face the other man. “Did you just say moo-poo?”
He ignored David and continued on with his train of thought,“It’s been a crazy few months... It’s been nice to have someone to talk to.”
“I concur.” Even in the dark, David could see Michael roll his eyes.
“You just ruined it with your abnormal words.”
“Abnormal? It’s a legitimate answer to your statement.”
“Most people would say ‘I agree,’ but no, you have to break out the big words.”
“It’s six letters long.”
“Ass-hat.” Michael threw his pillow at David.
“Well now, someone’s just going to have to sleep on a bare mattress tonight; you will not be seeing this pillow anytime soon for that.”
“It didn’t even hit you.”
“Still, the intentions were to maim me.”
“There you go again with the damn words!”
From the other room, they heard Jason mumble a groggy ‘shut up.” Both of them bit back laughter.
“I guess this will have to wait until tomorrow.”
“Damn you, Cook.”
“Night, Mike.”
“Can I have my pillow back now?”
“No, it’s mine.” With that, David put the pillow under his head. “Ah, it’s so comfy with two of these to support my neck.”
It was the little things that brought them closer. Pillow talks. Coffee shops. Guitar Hero and Super Smash Brothers. They cared about each other; they looked out for each other. No one got why they were so close. They couldn't explain it either. They just were.
LJ cuts are pissing me off at the moment. I can't fix it. I'm too annoyed to deal with it. UGH. I think I've been working on this for over a half hour. Damn you, LJ. Damn you.