YOU MAKE A MAN WANNA SPEAK SPANISH -- PG
[title] You Make A Man Wanna Speak Spanish
[author] kissontheneck [aka fieryrogue]
[pairing] Cookleta
[beta] lire_casander gave her approval as a professional speaker of Spanish. XD
[rating] PG
[word count] 2541
[summary] Cook somehow finds Archie even more irresistible than he usually does.
[disclaimer] Surely, I have nothing to do with either of these fine young men, no matter how much I wish I did.
[warnings] Una lengua romántica. Some schmoopy Cook. ♥
[author's notes] I have in my notes that sara84 was making me write this. Yes, making me, LOL. Only had one paragraph written and I decided to finish it for ficforhope. If you haven't seen Archie's performance at the ALMA awards, WATCH IT.
YOU MAKE A MAN WANNA SPEAK SPANISH
The bus is already rumbling along, off to its next destination. It's amazing how a show can just bleed into a meet and greet, which then just bleeds into meeting fans hovering outside, which then bleeds into the rumbling of the bus. Cook doesn't even really remember how he got into these sweatpants, the routine once he comes up those steps bleeds as well. It has been over a hundred cities after all, and as he sits at the table hooking up his laptop and grumbling at Neal for leaving food waste across the table yet again he recognizes how tired he is. It's good tired, adventure tired, but tired nonetheless.
Kyle has collapsed sideways on the couch that rests perpendicular to Cook. His hair is sweaty and sticking to his face and he lets his arms dangle over the front of him. A heavy push of air comes across his lips and Cook knows exactly how he's feeling. There's physical exhaustion and then there's heart exhaustion. Cook knows Kyle has been missing his family to a heartbreaking degree in the last couple of weeks. A few hours got spent in Seattle before they were torn apart again, which was pretty rough on the ol' Peekaboo. Being on the road is tough, and they all accept it to live their dreams; but sometimes it can really catch up with you. Kyle's eyes sink closed.
Cook on the other hand, has not seen David even for a few hours. Their schedules are too conflicting and then there's also that whole No One Knows About Us Except Our Most Trusted Friends thing. Cook is also convinced that the world is out to torture him anyway, as he and David occasionally swap time zones or miss one another by one day. Perhaps this is what he gets for having a taboo relationship, which is, of course, totally unfair.
E-mails pour into his inbox faster than he can catch even one subject line. Neal's been forwarding him ridiculous jokes again, he manages to make out, and there's messages from Andrew, the record label, and Ryan Star. The stream finally slows, a message from Carly settling at the very top and is labeled, "I'm Going To Steal Your Boyfriend, OMG."
Cook smiles because despite being married, Carly is always joking with him that she's going to run off with David. She fawns over him in a non-threatening way because she thinks he's adorable and sweet and perfect. She's absolutely right of course, and it reminds him that he really does have something special in that olive-skinned heart throb. He opens Carly's e-mail.
Look, Dave, seriously. I think you need to capture this kid and not let him out of your sights before someone else takes off with him. Like me, for example.
After that there's just a link which directs him to online video of David at the ALMA Awards. Cook had completely spaced that this event was happening and he instantly feels somewhat badly for forgetting, mostly because he would have called or sent David a message of good luck otherwise. He makes a mental note to call in the morning when it's not so late.
As the video begins to stream, Cook squints his eyes at the video's title. It's in Spanish and try as he might to learn the language for David, he just doesn't have a lot of extra time, not to mention that for as much of a word nerd as he is, he just can't get Spanish words to stick in his head. "Contigo en la Distancia," it reads. Distancia surely means distance and Cook is proud of himself in a kindergarten logic sort of way.
There's the solemn sound of acoustic guitar and Cook smiles. His heart rate picks up a little to see his boyfriend wearing a perfectly tailored suit and Cook chokes a little at how grown up David looks. He tries to think how long it's been since he's actually seen him physically and it has indeed been quite awhile. The fabric of David's suit is shiny and rich and Cook feels even more like a bum than he usually does next to David. David's hair has also been sculpted into perfection and Cook impulsively pushes at his own thinning mop like he's Oliver Twist hoping for a handout.
When David begins to sing it's perfect as expected, and Cook feels that little push in his stomach that always comes from hearing it. It doesn't matter if David is singing in English, Spanish, or, as the cliché goes, names from the phone book, there is a tonal quality in David's voice that can not be denied. David moves fluidly across the stage and Cook takes note of the grown up shoes he's wearing as well. It's almost disconcerting that the kid isn't wearing his ever-present Converse. But then again, maybe he's not so much of a kid anymore. Damn, it makes Cook feel like he's missing out on something. His very own other half is changing right before his eyes.
The light glimmers along David's shoulders and arms and there's something quite alluring about that, Cook thinks. There's also something alluring about crisp lines and perfectly knotted ties and sweater vests, and Cook shifts his weight as his nerves tingle along his arms and legs. He can't deny that the thought has just crossed his mind that undoing those buttons and tugging apart that tie would be terribly fun right about now.
Kyle shifts on the couch and nearly scares Cook to death. He's totally forgotten where he is and is suddenly thankful that Kyle has fallen fast asleep. Kyle knows all about David, but Cook somehow feels a warm shame over himself that he's ogling boys on the Internet, whether it be his boyfriend or not. He flattens his palms across the tabletop and directs his attention back to David's performance and less on how hot he looks in those pants (though that old comment about church slacks crosses his mind and makes him hiccup a small laugh).
As he watches, Cook realizes just how distracting words can really be. Because in this moment, when he doesn't understand a word, this is when he's really picking up how David handles his voice. It's like butter sliding across the surface of a hot pan, so smooth and with no evidence of transition. His voice just melts from one range to another, from a word into a soft hum, all seamlessly, and with every bit of his heart and soul poured into it.
Of course, this isn't to say the word nerd part of him has completely left the building either. Even with the meanings lost on him, they are so beautiful that he's completely taken by just their sounds. Several of the words stand out to him, and he knows they have to be the ones that are more important just by that. Bella melodia... alma... consuela. Contigo, now that he's heard David say it, sounds familiar, and estrellas is probably his favorite word. David rolls that R so beautifully that it's difficult to see how anyone's heart wouldn't just surge right out of their chest. He doesn't know if it's David's voice or the Spanish language or both, but whatever it is, Cook's enamored completely. In fact, it's not until he gasps a little that he realizes he's been holding his breath.
The song comes to a delicate yet powerful end and David's sleepy-eyed expression perks with his famous smile. Cook can't help but smile back and like the giant dork that he is he kisses the underside of his thumb and then presses it against David's cheek, leaving a smudgy streak on the computer screen. He sits staring for a moment before he brings up Carly's e-mail again and sends her a short but sweet message.
Jealous. Hands off or there's gonna be trouble. :P
Cook grabs his phone and starts typing a message. It's pretty late and so he usually sends a text instead of calling so as not to completely disturb the receiver, in this case, the niño hondureño he is about ten times more in love with just in the last five minutes.
hola.
He waits impatiently for a minute and a half before the happy bling alerts him of a new message and puts the biggest grin on his face.
haha, Hola Cook.
Cook bites his lip and tries to remember any phrase that has happened to stick around in his Spanish-challenged brain. His fingers carefully punch out something that he knows his horrifically misspelled.
Como say yama, bonita?
Cook is laughing at himself even before David responds. He knows this phrase is ridiculous and is pretty certain it's not something that's grammatically correct to say to a boy.
Lol, what?
What does estrayas mean?
Um, do you mean estrellas? Stars.
I knew it was something beautiful. How about contigo?
What has gotten into you?
Cook is considering what he wants to say when his phone suddenly rings, which scares the bejeezus out of him. His eyes dart to Kyle, but Cook shortly remembers he has nothing to worry about. That kid sleeps like the dead, and seeing as his face is currently smashed against one of the couch pillows in a way that doesn't look even remotely comfortable, Cook is more than safe from disrupting his friend's slumber.
"You scared the hell out of me, Arch. Never is a ringtone so loud, it seems, as when your phone suddenly rings in the dead of night as you're sitting next to a sleeping person." Cook has tried to inject a smile into the statement, but he knows David all too well.
"Oh gosh, I'm sorry! Did I wake anyone?" Cook can almost see David's panicked expression.
"You're fine," Cook says, his voice low. "Kyle is the most understanding anyway."
There's a slight pause before David tentatively asks, "So, what has gotten into you? Are you watching Telemundo again? I told you those soap operas are just trash."
Cook chokes on a laugh and answers, "No. I just watched your performance at the ALMA awards is all."
"Ooooh," David says, obviously overcome with happy clarity.
"It was amazing," Cook says softly. "I'm sorry I forgot to call you ahead of time. I meant to."
"It's okay," David replies, and Cook knows he means it. "I suppose the next thing you're going to say is that you want to learn Spanish again, right?"
"No," Cook says. It's only half a lie. He still thinks it'd be fun to carry on rambling conversations with David in Spanish. Quaint, even. He remembered being in the company of David's grandparents shortly after Idol had ended and being amused that they were constantly getting after one another in little spurts of non-English. "I just want you to talk."
"What?" David says, laughing.
"In Spanish. Say contigo."
"Cook!" David is laughing, giggling perhaps. "I'm not a parrot!"
"Well, remind me what it means because I know I've heard you say it before but I forget."
David hiccups and struggles to overcome his laughter. "It means 'with you'. Like, uh... oh, contigo en la distancia. With you in the distance."
The way the words spill over David's tongue once again captures Cook's heart. It's more than just another language; it's a song. A song that's dreamy and ethereal, and proof that God exists because there's no way any mortal human created that. "Why does that sound so beautiful?"
"Well, it's a romance language, you know." David chuckles knowingly.
"That's pretty obvious," Cook muses. "I mean, just the sounds of it are romantic, even without meaning. English is just trashy."
David hums the way he does when he doesn't want to verbally agree with something that isn't exactly a compliment. There's a moment when Cook can just hear him making little sounds, moving about and breathing, and he feels content with just that. Being connected to David, even "en la distancia", makes him feel at least a little bit less lonely.
"What are you doing?" Cook finally inquires. David has been quiet for far too long.
"Oh, sorry," David replies. "I had only just gotten in when you messaged me. I'm so ready to take this suit off and crawl into bed, I'm tired." He punctuates the statement with a yawn.
Cook almost forgets English he's so thrown by this declaration. "You're still wearing that suit?"
"Yeah. Went to a party afterward and was hung up forever it seemed like."
"Oh, really?" Even though he knows David can't see him, Cook waggles his eyebrows, hoping to inject the feeling into his tone.
"Yes, really." David pauses. "Don't get started, I know you're a sucker for a suit and tie."
"I'm a sucker for a sharp dressed man, yes." Cook hums the words a little, feeling that tingling in his limbs again.
David yawns again and Cook is a little disappointed that his boyfriend is so tired. David is surely aware of where Cook would like to take this phone call, but Cook resists knowing he can't always get what he wants, and that it's selfish to make the poor kid stay awake just for his own sick pleasure.
"Okay, I'm letting you go now," David says, who sounds like he's already falling asleep. "Buenas noches, David. Te quiero."
"Te kuh-reedo too, Archie." Cook knows it's wrong, but he doesn't care. He's accepted that he's practically useless with it.
David laughs a sleepy laugh. "You're crazy," he breathes, and Cook can't help but imagine that soft voice on his ear. "Good night."
"Good night, Archie. Sleep tight."
Cook stares down at his phone for the longest time, grinning like an idiot. Why David puts up with his ridiculousness he'll never know. He sighs deeply then looks back up at his computer screen. He considers watching the video again, just for good measure and to maybe seed a good dream or two. He's about to click the replay link when he's again startled into recognition of the rest of the world.
"Your Spanish is downright insulting, Dave."
Cook's attention snaps to his side and even though Kyle has seemingly not moved, he's sporting the stupidest grin Cook's ever seen graze his rounded cheeks.
"Holy shit, Peek," Cook says in disbelief. "I thought you were asleep."
"How can anyone sleep through all that syrupy 'Oh, say heart and kisses and undying love in Spanish for me' garbage?" There is an air of amusement in Kyle's voice, so Cook knows he's just harassing him. "He must really love you to put up with that."
Cook scrunches his brow and smiles crookedly. Leaning across the table, he reaches for a small throw pillow that's propped into the opposite table bench and squashes it between his hands a couple times before he chucks it across the way, hitting Kyle square in the chest. Kyle's knees go up into his stomach in reflex and his head pushes back as he laughs riotously. Cook can't help but join the infectious mirth as he stands up from the table, crosses to hover over his drummer's still mostly supine body and flicks off the light.
"Go to bed, Kyle!"
♥
[author] kissontheneck [aka fieryrogue]
[pairing] Cookleta
[beta] lire_casander gave her approval as a professional speaker of Spanish. XD
[rating] PG
[word count] 2541
[summary] Cook somehow finds Archie even more irresistible than he usually does.
[disclaimer] Surely, I have nothing to do with either of these fine young men, no matter how much I wish I did.
[warnings] Una lengua romántica. Some schmoopy Cook. ♥
[author's notes] I have in my notes that sara84 was making me write this. Yes, making me, LOL. Only had one paragraph written and I decided to finish it for ficforhope. If you haven't seen Archie's performance at the ALMA awards, WATCH IT.
YOU MAKE A MAN WANNA SPEAK SPANISH
The bus is already rumbling along, off to its next destination. It's amazing how a show can just bleed into a meet and greet, which then just bleeds into meeting fans hovering outside, which then bleeds into the rumbling of the bus. Cook doesn't even really remember how he got into these sweatpants, the routine once he comes up those steps bleeds as well. It has been over a hundred cities after all, and as he sits at the table hooking up his laptop and grumbling at Neal for leaving food waste across the table yet again he recognizes how tired he is. It's good tired, adventure tired, but tired nonetheless.
Kyle has collapsed sideways on the couch that rests perpendicular to Cook. His hair is sweaty and sticking to his face and he lets his arms dangle over the front of him. A heavy push of air comes across his lips and Cook knows exactly how he's feeling. There's physical exhaustion and then there's heart exhaustion. Cook knows Kyle has been missing his family to a heartbreaking degree in the last couple of weeks. A few hours got spent in Seattle before they were torn apart again, which was pretty rough on the ol' Peekaboo. Being on the road is tough, and they all accept it to live their dreams; but sometimes it can really catch up with you. Kyle's eyes sink closed.
Cook on the other hand, has not seen David even for a few hours. Their schedules are too conflicting and then there's also that whole No One Knows About Us Except Our Most Trusted Friends thing. Cook is also convinced that the world is out to torture him anyway, as he and David occasionally swap time zones or miss one another by one day. Perhaps this is what he gets for having a taboo relationship, which is, of course, totally unfair.
E-mails pour into his inbox faster than he can catch even one subject line. Neal's been forwarding him ridiculous jokes again, he manages to make out, and there's messages from Andrew, the record label, and Ryan Star. The stream finally slows, a message from Carly settling at the very top and is labeled, "I'm Going To Steal Your Boyfriend, OMG."
Cook smiles because despite being married, Carly is always joking with him that she's going to run off with David. She fawns over him in a non-threatening way because she thinks he's adorable and sweet and perfect. She's absolutely right of course, and it reminds him that he really does have something special in that olive-skinned heart throb. He opens Carly's e-mail.
Look, Dave, seriously. I think you need to capture this kid and not let him out of your sights before someone else takes off with him. Like me, for example.
After that there's just a link which directs him to online video of David at the ALMA Awards. Cook had completely spaced that this event was happening and he instantly feels somewhat badly for forgetting, mostly because he would have called or sent David a message of good luck otherwise. He makes a mental note to call in the morning when it's not so late.
As the video begins to stream, Cook squints his eyes at the video's title. It's in Spanish and try as he might to learn the language for David, he just doesn't have a lot of extra time, not to mention that for as much of a word nerd as he is, he just can't get Spanish words to stick in his head. "Contigo en la Distancia," it reads. Distancia surely means distance and Cook is proud of himself in a kindergarten logic sort of way.
There's the solemn sound of acoustic guitar and Cook smiles. His heart rate picks up a little to see his boyfriend wearing a perfectly tailored suit and Cook chokes a little at how grown up David looks. He tries to think how long it's been since he's actually seen him physically and it has indeed been quite awhile. The fabric of David's suit is shiny and rich and Cook feels even more like a bum than he usually does next to David. David's hair has also been sculpted into perfection and Cook impulsively pushes at his own thinning mop like he's Oliver Twist hoping for a handout.
When David begins to sing it's perfect as expected, and Cook feels that little push in his stomach that always comes from hearing it. It doesn't matter if David is singing in English, Spanish, or, as the cliché goes, names from the phone book, there is a tonal quality in David's voice that can not be denied. David moves fluidly across the stage and Cook takes note of the grown up shoes he's wearing as well. It's almost disconcerting that the kid isn't wearing his ever-present Converse. But then again, maybe he's not so much of a kid anymore. Damn, it makes Cook feel like he's missing out on something. His very own other half is changing right before his eyes.
The light glimmers along David's shoulders and arms and there's something quite alluring about that, Cook thinks. There's also something alluring about crisp lines and perfectly knotted ties and sweater vests, and Cook shifts his weight as his nerves tingle along his arms and legs. He can't deny that the thought has just crossed his mind that undoing those buttons and tugging apart that tie would be terribly fun right about now.
Kyle shifts on the couch and nearly scares Cook to death. He's totally forgotten where he is and is suddenly thankful that Kyle has fallen fast asleep. Kyle knows all about David, but Cook somehow feels a warm shame over himself that he's ogling boys on the Internet, whether it be his boyfriend or not. He flattens his palms across the tabletop and directs his attention back to David's performance and less on how hot he looks in those pants (though that old comment about church slacks crosses his mind and makes him hiccup a small laugh).
As he watches, Cook realizes just how distracting words can really be. Because in this moment, when he doesn't understand a word, this is when he's really picking up how David handles his voice. It's like butter sliding across the surface of a hot pan, so smooth and with no evidence of transition. His voice just melts from one range to another, from a word into a soft hum, all seamlessly, and with every bit of his heart and soul poured into it.
Of course, this isn't to say the word nerd part of him has completely left the building either. Even with the meanings lost on him, they are so beautiful that he's completely taken by just their sounds. Several of the words stand out to him, and he knows they have to be the ones that are more important just by that. Bella melodia... alma... consuela. Contigo, now that he's heard David say it, sounds familiar, and estrellas is probably his favorite word. David rolls that R so beautifully that it's difficult to see how anyone's heart wouldn't just surge right out of their chest. He doesn't know if it's David's voice or the Spanish language or both, but whatever it is, Cook's enamored completely. In fact, it's not until he gasps a little that he realizes he's been holding his breath.
The song comes to a delicate yet powerful end and David's sleepy-eyed expression perks with his famous smile. Cook can't help but smile back and like the giant dork that he is he kisses the underside of his thumb and then presses it against David's cheek, leaving a smudgy streak on the computer screen. He sits staring for a moment before he brings up Carly's e-mail again and sends her a short but sweet message.
Jealous. Hands off or there's gonna be trouble. :P
Cook grabs his phone and starts typing a message. It's pretty late and so he usually sends a text instead of calling so as not to completely disturb the receiver, in this case, the niño hondureño he is about ten times more in love with just in the last five minutes.
hola.
He waits impatiently for a minute and a half before the happy bling alerts him of a new message and puts the biggest grin on his face.
haha, Hola Cook.
Cook bites his lip and tries to remember any phrase that has happened to stick around in his Spanish-challenged brain. His fingers carefully punch out something that he knows his horrifically misspelled.
Como say yama, bonita?
Cook is laughing at himself even before David responds. He knows this phrase is ridiculous and is pretty certain it's not something that's grammatically correct to say to a boy.
Lol, what?
What does estrayas mean?
Um, do you mean estrellas? Stars.
I knew it was something beautiful. How about contigo?
What has gotten into you?
Cook is considering what he wants to say when his phone suddenly rings, which scares the bejeezus out of him. His eyes dart to Kyle, but Cook shortly remembers he has nothing to worry about. That kid sleeps like the dead, and seeing as his face is currently smashed against one of the couch pillows in a way that doesn't look even remotely comfortable, Cook is more than safe from disrupting his friend's slumber.
"You scared the hell out of me, Arch. Never is a ringtone so loud, it seems, as when your phone suddenly rings in the dead of night as you're sitting next to a sleeping person." Cook has tried to inject a smile into the statement, but he knows David all too well.
"Oh gosh, I'm sorry! Did I wake anyone?" Cook can almost see David's panicked expression.
"You're fine," Cook says, his voice low. "Kyle is the most understanding anyway."
There's a slight pause before David tentatively asks, "So, what has gotten into you? Are you watching Telemundo again? I told you those soap operas are just trash."
Cook chokes on a laugh and answers, "No. I just watched your performance at the ALMA awards is all."
"Ooooh," David says, obviously overcome with happy clarity.
"It was amazing," Cook says softly. "I'm sorry I forgot to call you ahead of time. I meant to."
"It's okay," David replies, and Cook knows he means it. "I suppose the next thing you're going to say is that you want to learn Spanish again, right?"
"No," Cook says. It's only half a lie. He still thinks it'd be fun to carry on rambling conversations with David in Spanish. Quaint, even. He remembered being in the company of David's grandparents shortly after Idol had ended and being amused that they were constantly getting after one another in little spurts of non-English. "I just want you to talk."
"What?" David says, laughing.
"In Spanish. Say contigo."
"Cook!" David is laughing, giggling perhaps. "I'm not a parrot!"
"Well, remind me what it means because I know I've heard you say it before but I forget."
David hiccups and struggles to overcome his laughter. "It means 'with you'. Like, uh... oh, contigo en la distancia. With you in the distance."
The way the words spill over David's tongue once again captures Cook's heart. It's more than just another language; it's a song. A song that's dreamy and ethereal, and proof that God exists because there's no way any mortal human created that. "Why does that sound so beautiful?"
"Well, it's a romance language, you know." David chuckles knowingly.
"That's pretty obvious," Cook muses. "I mean, just the sounds of it are romantic, even without meaning. English is just trashy."
David hums the way he does when he doesn't want to verbally agree with something that isn't exactly a compliment. There's a moment when Cook can just hear him making little sounds, moving about and breathing, and he feels content with just that. Being connected to David, even "en la distancia", makes him feel at least a little bit less lonely.
"What are you doing?" Cook finally inquires. David has been quiet for far too long.
"Oh, sorry," David replies. "I had only just gotten in when you messaged me. I'm so ready to take this suit off and crawl into bed, I'm tired." He punctuates the statement with a yawn.
Cook almost forgets English he's so thrown by this declaration. "You're still wearing that suit?"
"Yeah. Went to a party afterward and was hung up forever it seemed like."
"Oh, really?" Even though he knows David can't see him, Cook waggles his eyebrows, hoping to inject the feeling into his tone.
"Yes, really." David pauses. "Don't get started, I know you're a sucker for a suit and tie."
"I'm a sucker for a sharp dressed man, yes." Cook hums the words a little, feeling that tingling in his limbs again.
David yawns again and Cook is a little disappointed that his boyfriend is so tired. David is surely aware of where Cook would like to take this phone call, but Cook resists knowing he can't always get what he wants, and that it's selfish to make the poor kid stay awake just for his own sick pleasure.
"Okay, I'm letting you go now," David says, who sounds like he's already falling asleep. "Buenas noches, David. Te quiero."
"Te kuh-reedo too, Archie." Cook knows it's wrong, but he doesn't care. He's accepted that he's practically useless with it.
David laughs a sleepy laugh. "You're crazy," he breathes, and Cook can't help but imagine that soft voice on his ear. "Good night."
"Good night, Archie. Sleep tight."
Cook stares down at his phone for the longest time, grinning like an idiot. Why David puts up with his ridiculousness he'll never know. He sighs deeply then looks back up at his computer screen. He considers watching the video again, just for good measure and to maybe seed a good dream or two. He's about to click the replay link when he's again startled into recognition of the rest of the world.
"Your Spanish is downright insulting, Dave."
Cook's attention snaps to his side and even though Kyle has seemingly not moved, he's sporting the stupidest grin Cook's ever seen graze his rounded cheeks.
"Holy shit, Peek," Cook says in disbelief. "I thought you were asleep."
"How can anyone sleep through all that syrupy 'Oh, say heart and kisses and undying love in Spanish for me' garbage?" There is an air of amusement in Kyle's voice, so Cook knows he's just harassing him. "He must really love you to put up with that."
Cook scrunches his brow and smiles crookedly. Leaning across the table, he reaches for a small throw pillow that's propped into the opposite table bench and squashes it between his hands a couple times before he chucks it across the way, hitting Kyle square in the chest. Kyle's knees go up into his stomach in reflex and his head pushes back as he laughs riotously. Cook can't help but join the infectious mirth as he stands up from the table, crosses to hover over his drummer's still mostly supine body and flicks off the light.
"Go to bed, Kyle!"
♥