i will hold your hand and we'll both stand tall | cook/archuleta | pg13
word count ~1300
excerpt and david doesn't think about the fact that he's at the airport in twenty-two minutes when it should've taken him thirty-five, or the fact that it's almost ten o'clock and the stars are peeking out and his dad has no idea where he is.
notes written after that one magnificent tweet procured by the lovely mr. david cook, and the subsequent freak out party that happened at cookleta_etc. can't even explain how much i love that comm and everyone in it. <33
david isn't surprised when he finds out that cook is a half hour away from him via twitter. twitter seems to be taking over his life, so to say he's dumbstruck would totally be a lie.
what he is surprised about is the fact that he's currently zooming down a decently empty highway, going three miles over the already high-seeming speed limit --
("but i thought that they wouldn't stop you if it was only three?" he said hopelessly to his dad. jeff sighed and plucked the ticket from his hands.)
-- and david isn't sure if it's because he's just so excited, or if it's because he's lost all feeling in his body and can't control his foot from pressing any less. the windows are rolled down and the utah summer night heat is thick against his skin, sticking his shirt to his chest.
and during this drive, all his stupid anger he's held for cook seems to fade away, shrivel into pieces like the rubber from his tires that he's leaving behind. all the silly back-and-forth, the text mes and the call mes, and the fact that he hasn't heard cook's voice in three months and eight days (because who's counting, right?). all of the idiotic stuff he's said and done seems to fly out the windows, hitting the pavement at eighty an hour and leaving his mind clear as a bell.
and david doesn't think about the fact that he's at the airport in twenty-two minutes when it should've taken him thirty-five, or the fact that it's almost ten o'clock and the stars are peeking out and his dad has no idea where he is.
all he can think about is cook, and cook i need you, cook oh my gosh, and his fingers are shaking as he types out a messy, cook im at the aiprt. outsid of secuity. pleae cme now.
his head is buzzing and he can't exactly see straight, because holy cow, cook is here, in this very airport, and david looks around frantically for what feels like hours. and some people recognize him and point at him with happy smiles, and finally, david feels happy enough to smile back genuinely, because - cook --
and he hears a repetitive clap clap clap, and his head swivels toward the sound, and -- his heart flies into his throat, his pulse a dangerous speed, because --
cook is here, and david can see him, and oh my gosh, he looks beautifully tired and yet so awake, so alive, and his run slows to a calm jog when he sees david.
"cook," david chokes out, and some distant part of his brain realizes he should be embarrassed that his eyes are wet and his throat is thick, but he can't find it in himself to care when he's sprinting towards cook, and he can't feel his legs and he knows he probably looks like a weirdo with two left feet.
but then he's in front of cook, and against cook, and cook's arms are bare and warm when they wrap around his middle, and there's a whoosh and david can't feel the floor anymore and his head is spinning. and even though he knows it's because cook is twirling him around, david would like to think it's because cook can make him fly.
"david, david," cook whispers into his ear as he sets him back down, and david can feel cook's face in the crook of his neck, warm and wet. "oh my fucking god, david."
"i've missed you," david says quickly, earnestly, because it's the truth. his fingers tangle in cook's hair. "i've missed you so much, cook. it's been horrible without you, and i -- oh gosh, i missed you so much."
and cook just keeps whispering, "david, david, david," his lips smooth against david's skin, and his name sounds like a prayer on cook's tongue.
"i forgive us," david says, the words fumbling out, and even though he's sort of upset that he doesn't seem to have a filter on his mouth, at times like these, just speaking what he thinks is really necessary. "i forgive us for falling out of touch, and for not calling each other as often as we should've, and these past couple of weeks -- oh my gosh, months even -- they've kind of stunk, but now it's just -- " david takes in an unsteady breath, and exhales, "you're here, and it's all okay now."
cook just squeezes him tighter, his nose to david's neck and his hands splayed across his back, and his fingers trace i love you across his spine, over and over, and david sort of gurgles out a laugh and says, "you too, cookie. oh my gosh. you too."
and they probably look like they belong in one of those lovey-dovey romance films, crying over each other in the airport terminal, but david doesn't really care, because cook is in his arms now.
(and anyway, those movies have always been his favorites.)
"so," cook says, interlacing their fingers and tugging david through security, and david isn't surprised when they let him through without looking for a boarding pass or anything, because his boyfriend is david cook.
"so," david responds.
"so," cook says again, grinning, "now that we've successfully poured our hearts out for the past ten minutes, the least we can do is tweet about it."
"what?" david splutters. "no, no, let's not. i mean," david says, scratching his neck with his free hand, "twitter is kind of - overrated, anyway, so."
"david, i only just got a twitter, and now it's overrated? you're giving me whiplash here, little d."
"oh hush," david replies, throwing a half-hearted hit to cook's chest. cook only laughs. "if you really think about it, twitter was - kind of our - i don't know, our downfall. you know? i mean, first it was call or text, and then twitter happened, and it was just another technological way for us to lose touch."
cook looks at him for a long moment, chewing over his words, and then pulls him closer and says quietly, "but it also brought us back together." and the grin he gives david makes this warmth trickle down his spine.
"i guess you're right about that," david whispers back, and cook smiles and presses his lips to david's forehead, and they make their way back to cook's gate, palm to palm, heart to heart.
thedavidcook hanging with my man @davidarchie. he's growing up so much -- finally broke the five foot barrier. i'm so proud!
davidarchie finally caught up with the lovely @thedavidcook. thanks to you guys for letting me know, haha! it's good to see him. i've missed him lots.
david stays, in cook's gate and curled against cook's side, until he sees the sun peek out over faraway mountaintops and cook reluctantly boards his flight.
cook pulls him into a fierce hug, i love you on the tip of his tongue, and david whispers it back carefully, sweetly, not wanting to wear out the words.
and when cook tilts his head up with two fingers and presses his lips to david's, as passersby look on, and neal and andy exchange a glance that screams finally, and a handful of scatterbrained paparazzi flash their cameras and call their managers and chew their gum, david whispers it again, an "i love you" onto cook's lips.
cook stands in line to board the plane, and before he disappears into the tunnel, he turns to david and blows him a dramatic kiss. david knows the drill, so he sighs and rolls his eyes and pretends to catch the kiss in his hand, pressing his fingertips to his cheek. cook bursts into a laugh, dragging david into a gigglefest, and they both grin at each other for a long second, and then cook's in the tunnel and on the plane.
and as the plane begins its slow journey from the boarding tunnel, david's cell phone vibrates, and when he opens it up, it reads:
i'm with you. always.
david's face breaks into a wide grin, his eyes shiny as his hand gently fists the fabric laying over his heart, and he thinks, desperate and awestruck, yes. his face crumples into a watery, ecstatic laugh. yes, you are.
-
excerpt and david doesn't think about the fact that he's at the airport in twenty-two minutes when it should've taken him thirty-five, or the fact that it's almost ten o'clock and the stars are peeking out and his dad has no idea where he is.
notes written after that one magnificent tweet procured by the lovely mr. david cook, and the subsequent freak out party that happened at cookleta_etc. can't even explain how much i love that comm and everyone in it. <33
david isn't surprised when he finds out that cook is a half hour away from him via twitter. twitter seems to be taking over his life, so to say he's dumbstruck would totally be a lie.
what he is surprised about is the fact that he's currently zooming down a decently empty highway, going three miles over the already high-seeming speed limit --
("but i thought that they wouldn't stop you if it was only three?" he said hopelessly to his dad. jeff sighed and plucked the ticket from his hands.)
-- and david isn't sure if it's because he's just so excited, or if it's because he's lost all feeling in his body and can't control his foot from pressing any less. the windows are rolled down and the utah summer night heat is thick against his skin, sticking his shirt to his chest.
and during this drive, all his stupid anger he's held for cook seems to fade away, shrivel into pieces like the rubber from his tires that he's leaving behind. all the silly back-and-forth, the text mes and the call mes, and the fact that he hasn't heard cook's voice in three months and eight days (because who's counting, right?). all of the idiotic stuff he's said and done seems to fly out the windows, hitting the pavement at eighty an hour and leaving his mind clear as a bell.
and david doesn't think about the fact that he's at the airport in twenty-two minutes when it should've taken him thirty-five, or the fact that it's almost ten o'clock and the stars are peeking out and his dad has no idea where he is.
all he can think about is cook, and cook i need you, cook oh my gosh, and his fingers are shaking as he types out a messy, cook im at the aiprt. outsid of secuity. pleae cme now.
his head is buzzing and he can't exactly see straight, because holy cow, cook is here, in this very airport, and david looks around frantically for what feels like hours. and some people recognize him and point at him with happy smiles, and finally, david feels happy enough to smile back genuinely, because - cook --
and he hears a repetitive clap clap clap, and his head swivels toward the sound, and -- his heart flies into his throat, his pulse a dangerous speed, because --
cook is here, and david can see him, and oh my gosh, he looks beautifully tired and yet so awake, so alive, and his run slows to a calm jog when he sees david.
"cook," david chokes out, and some distant part of his brain realizes he should be embarrassed that his eyes are wet and his throat is thick, but he can't find it in himself to care when he's sprinting towards cook, and he can't feel his legs and he knows he probably looks like a weirdo with two left feet.
but then he's in front of cook, and against cook, and cook's arms are bare and warm when they wrap around his middle, and there's a whoosh and david can't feel the floor anymore and his head is spinning. and even though he knows it's because cook is twirling him around, david would like to think it's because cook can make him fly.
"david, david," cook whispers into his ear as he sets him back down, and david can feel cook's face in the crook of his neck, warm and wet. "oh my fucking god, david."
"i've missed you," david says quickly, earnestly, because it's the truth. his fingers tangle in cook's hair. "i've missed you so much, cook. it's been horrible without you, and i -- oh gosh, i missed you so much."
and cook just keeps whispering, "david, david, david," his lips smooth against david's skin, and his name sounds like a prayer on cook's tongue.
"i forgive us," david says, the words fumbling out, and even though he's sort of upset that he doesn't seem to have a filter on his mouth, at times like these, just speaking what he thinks is really necessary. "i forgive us for falling out of touch, and for not calling each other as often as we should've, and these past couple of weeks -- oh my gosh, months even -- they've kind of stunk, but now it's just -- " david takes in an unsteady breath, and exhales, "you're here, and it's all okay now."
cook just squeezes him tighter, his nose to david's neck and his hands splayed across his back, and his fingers trace i love you across his spine, over and over, and david sort of gurgles out a laugh and says, "you too, cookie. oh my gosh. you too."
and they probably look like they belong in one of those lovey-dovey romance films, crying over each other in the airport terminal, but david doesn't really care, because cook is in his arms now.
(and anyway, those movies have always been his favorites.)
"so," cook says, interlacing their fingers and tugging david through security, and david isn't surprised when they let him through without looking for a boarding pass or anything, because his boyfriend is david cook.
"so," david responds.
"so," cook says again, grinning, "now that we've successfully poured our hearts out for the past ten minutes, the least we can do is tweet about it."
"what?" david splutters. "no, no, let's not. i mean," david says, scratching his neck with his free hand, "twitter is kind of - overrated, anyway, so."
"david, i only just got a twitter, and now it's overrated? you're giving me whiplash here, little d."
"oh hush," david replies, throwing a half-hearted hit to cook's chest. cook only laughs. "if you really think about it, twitter was - kind of our - i don't know, our downfall. you know? i mean, first it was call or text, and then twitter happened, and it was just another technological way for us to lose touch."
cook looks at him for a long moment, chewing over his words, and then pulls him closer and says quietly, "but it also brought us back together." and the grin he gives david makes this warmth trickle down his spine.
"i guess you're right about that," david whispers back, and cook smiles and presses his lips to david's forehead, and they make their way back to cook's gate, palm to palm, heart to heart.
thedavidcook hanging with my man @davidarchie. he's growing up so much -- finally broke the five foot barrier. i'm so proud!
davidarchie finally caught up with the lovely @thedavidcook. thanks to you guys for letting me know, haha! it's good to see him. i've missed him lots.
david stays, in cook's gate and curled against cook's side, until he sees the sun peek out over faraway mountaintops and cook reluctantly boards his flight.
cook pulls him into a fierce hug, i love you on the tip of his tongue, and david whispers it back carefully, sweetly, not wanting to wear out the words.
and when cook tilts his head up with two fingers and presses his lips to david's, as passersby look on, and neal and andy exchange a glance that screams finally, and a handful of scatterbrained paparazzi flash their cameras and call their managers and chew their gum, david whispers it again, an "i love you" onto cook's lips.
cook stands in line to board the plane, and before he disappears into the tunnel, he turns to david and blows him a dramatic kiss. david knows the drill, so he sighs and rolls his eyes and pretends to catch the kiss in his hand, pressing his fingertips to his cheek. cook bursts into a laugh, dragging david into a gigglefest, and they both grin at each other for a long second, and then cook's in the tunnel and on the plane.
and as the plane begins its slow journey from the boarding tunnel, david's cell phone vibrates, and when he opens it up, it reads:
i'm with you. always.
david's face breaks into a wide grin, his eyes shiny as his hand gently fists the fabric laying over his heart, and he thinks, desperate and awestruck, yes. his face crumples into a watery, ecstatic laugh. yes, you are.
-