AVALANCHE: Fall Line [6/?] -- PG
[title] AVALANCHE: Fall Line [6/?]
[author] kissontheneck [aka fieryrogue]
[pairing] Cookleta, Marly UST, bromance!Mavid
[beta] Emergency heroes rajkumari905 and aohatsu standing in for the ever hard-working jehane_writes this time.
[rating] PG
[word count] 5268
[summary] David is on a nice holiday ski trip with his family. Unfortunately, he doesn't know how to ski, but a couple private lessons should remedy that problem.
[disclaimer] Surely, I have nothing to do with either of these fine young men, no matter how much I wish I did.
[warnings] Too many descriptions of Cook's eyes. O_o
[author's notes] I just want to take this opportunity to love on everyone who reads this, has been reading it, will continue reading it, even when the author thinks she's David Cook and takes two years to make a new album/chapter. I love you all. :)
PART ONE: Milk Run
PART TWO: Fresh Powder
PART THREE: Drop In
PART FOUR: Falling Leaf
PART FIVE: Après Ski
PART SIX:
AVALANCHE: FALL LINE
David hefted up the incline between his family's cabin and the ski lodge, breathing heavily. Even though he'd been hauling himself and all his ski equipment up it for days now, something about this day seemed heavier, denser. Snow had fallen all through the night, nearly obliterating the well-worn paths between the buildings, so David had to take more deliberate steps in order to cut a new one for himself. The new fallen snow had also muted the world in its erasure of all signs of life on the mountain, covering cars and cabin steps; muffling birds and idle trail chatter. Muffling David's brain.
Except when he thought about it, he knew it wasn't the snow numbing his senses, it was David Cook.
The previous night had been nothing like David had ever experienced in his life. First of all because he'd had such a great time just getting to know people his age who were really different from the people he knew back home. He liked his friends at home, but Mike and Carly were different and a little crazy -- a little dangerous -- and he liked that. It made him feel a little guilty to admit it, but he really liked it. And then Cook with his being so, what was the word? Spontaneous. And funny. And a good singer. A good singer with smoldering eyes that kind of burned through a person, and a mouth that made distinct shapes around his words as if he'd chosen them very carefully for his listener.
That's how David had felt anyway. He tried really hard to convince himself that Cook was just an intense singer, but every time he dared to look up on that stage, Cook had been gazing right back, bright-eyed and unblinking. It sent shivers down his spine to imagine that Cook had been singing just for him.
The karaoke event ended shortly after that, so David had only had to endure something like twenty minutes of awkwardness after Cook returned to the table. He made sure to compliment Cook, straining to keep just this side of gushing. Cook had smiled appreciatively and for the first time seemed completely speechless; he just kept gazing at David like he'd discovered some amazing new animal or something. After a lengthy spell of strained silence, Cook finally opened his mouth to say something -- something meaningful and important, David was certain -- when Mike slurred something inappropriate and tripped over his chair in front of them both, completely killing the moment. Cook said something about that being his cue to leave and drag Mike back to their cabin, but all David could really concentrate on was how Cook pawed at the back of his neck nervously, crooked smile arched across his lips.
And that had been the same forty-five seconds that played over and over in David's mind all the way back to his cabin, all through his getting ready for bed, all the whole thirty-eight minutes it took him to get to sleep. He didn't even notice Daniel jabbing him in the ribcage or anything. He just fell asleep, David Cook's playful smile painted across the backs of his eyelids.
Cresting the hill, David noted that the lodge looked absolutely deserted. This same sight had surprised him earlier in the day when he'd come down for his ski lesson only to find a large notice posted that all lessons had been postponed due to a possible snowstorm heading their way. Unsurprisingly, this had driven a lot of people into their cabins for the day, and plenty of them off the mountain entirely. When David's dad had inquired at the front desk about it though, they'd assured him that it was purely precautionary and that the chances were slim the storm would affect them more than a few hours of higher winds. Remarkably, Mr. Archuleta had decided to keep his family checked in as planned, and David couldn't have been more relieved. He wasn't quite ready to leave the mountain just yet.
After spending the morning with his family (for the first time since they'd arrived, he realized) and enjoying a nice meal that his mother had put together, the Archuletas had gone about spending their afternoon free time individually, or at least not scheduled by their dad. Daniel snuck out his portable video game, David's mom settled down with a romance novel she'd been dying to read, and his sisters almost immediately started fighting over something ridiculous. Feeling a little antsy, David wanted to stroll outside for awhile, and pulling on his coat he told his mom he was going on a walk, promising he'd be as careful as possible and wouldn't wander off into uncharted territory.
So he stood now at the top of the little hill between the family's cabin and the lodge, pausing to take in the fresh air and the crisp, falling snow that reminded him of Christmas. It had banked pretty deeply in some places, he noticed, even deeper than just a few hours before, which made him wonder if perhaps the snowstorm might actually be a concern. After a moment of quiet thought, David got dragged abruptly back to the present when he suddenly heard his name being called.
"David! David, over here!"
Whipping around, David caught sight of Carly waving and jogging in his direction. Today she wore bright blue earmuffs with matching gloves, paired with a jacket a few shades lighter. David had learned by now that the woman had a different snow outfit for every day of the week, which was interesting for a person who didn't otherwise seem like the type who cared if her scarves matched her ski boots. Little puffs of white escaped her lips as her breath hit the cold air around them.
"Hi there, Carly," David greeted, smiling.
"Hey, David," she replied, cupping her hand over her eyes as the snowfall started to pick up a little. "What's up? Sorry about the lessons being cancelled today. They always exaggerate these things, you know? Better safe than sorry, of course. Everyone's getting a reimbursement in case they didn't tell you."
"Oh yeah, the front desk guy assured my dad of that about a thousand times," David replied. "No worries."
Carly beamed. "Good. You off somewhere special?" she asked. "Escaping the family?"
David couldn't help but chuckle. "Ha ha, yeah. Being confined in a space smaller than our house with less ease of escape can get crazy. I'm just out on a walk is all."
Carly's laugh was warm enough to melt icicles. "Me too. You wanna walk with me? If you're not going anywhere specific anyway."
"Uh, yeah, sure," David agreed. He really liked Carly, and walking out on the mountain with another person definitely sounded appealing. Not only for safety reasons, but because David liked to share moments like this with other people too.
"I'm just heading up this way," she said, pointing vaguely in a direction David hadn't been before, but he thought maybe led to the staff cabins. She started off to where she'd pointed, David tagging along.
"Sorry again about the cancelled lesson," Carly said after a minute. "Though you were probably relieved, huh? I mean, we all know it's not your favorite thing in the universe."
"Actually," David replied, surprising even himself, "I was a little bummed."
Surprise hinted across Carly's face. "This from the guy I thought hated every second of learning how to ski." She laughed a little, and David couldn't help but break a smile as well.
"It's grown on me, I guess," David murmured, hoping the blush he felt rising in his cheeks wasn't too noticeable. "If nothing else Cook makes me feel -- Er, I mean... It's fun, and time flies when I'm out here. I've kind of liked not being around my family all day long for once, you know? I mean, I'm with them all the time at home already. So yeah."
"I getcha," Carly said, and David swore she winked at him. Something about it made a little knot of anxiety weigh heavily in his stomach, as if she'd caught him in a lie. He supposed she kind of had.
The next second however, Carly had changed the subject entirely, distracting David from his thoughts about Cook as he followed her away from the rental cabins and up into what could now clearly be seen as the secluded village where the employees stayed. Once in the thick of the little homes David saw that the employee camp had more personality than the rental areas, mainly because each snow-covered porch had its own semi-permanent decorations like colored flags, wind chimes, and other quirky things David couldn't identify. Carly turned at a Y in the path towards the cabin bearing a huge blue flag with several white stars scattered across it tacked up in the window. If David's memory of geography class served him correctly, the flag was that of Australia. In the sliver of glass unoccupied by the flag, a smaller red and gold pennant boasting "Kansas City Chiefs" overlapped the corner, and unlit Christmas lights framed the perimeter of the window.
"Let's see if the two snow kings are doing anything constructive with their day off, shall we?" Carly asked, and before David could even decide if he wanted to join her or not, she'd climbed the steps to the cabin, pulling David along with her.
Despite the fact that the cabin lights stood blatantly dark, Carly knocked hard on the front door as if she'd been expected for some time now. The cabin remained deathly quiet until Carly knocked a second time, and David blushed at the stream of accented curses that could be heard approaching them now.
"Whoever the bloody hell is intruding on my day off lie-in had better have a good excuse for -- oh, hi, Carly." Mike's irritated expression changed as soon as his eyes fell on the woman at his door, and he sheepishly raked his fingers through his disheveled hair. "What... are you doing here?"
"I've come to shake you layabouts out of your beds and keep you from wasting the entire day," Carly responded. Her blue eyes trailed across Mike's worn undershirt and striped boxers and she grinned. "Put some pants on, you've got guests for goodness sake."
"Well, it's not like I knew you were coming," Mike defended as Carly pressed a hand to his chest, pushing him out of her way. Once she'd passed, he glanced back to David. "Oh, you're in on this too, are you?"
David hesitated. "I didn't, um, know..."
"Get in here before you freeze to death," Mike said, waving him in. He flung an arm over David's shoulder and kicked the door closed behind them before shouting, "Hey, Cook! Get your ass out here, we have company!"
"Who the hell is it?" came the indignant and sleepy reply from somewhere down the hall.
"Carly," Mike answered, which garnered a groan from Cook's disembodied voice.
"And David," Mike added, patting David on the shoulder. A startled "What?" answered, followed by a floor-shaking thump that to David sounded like Cook had fallen out of bed.
"He'll be right out," Mike said sweetly as if nothing at all peculiar had happened. "Coffee, anyone?"
"Mike, what are you doing?" Carly asked quickly, apparently ignorant of the last minute and a half. "And don't say sleeping."
Mike shot a glance at David as if he could possibly help him out of this interrogation. David just shrugged his shoulders because frankly, he didn't know what Carly's intentions were either.
"Come down to the lodge with me," Carly said, sneaking a quick glance at David.
Mike looked at her like she'd gone mad. "What? Why?"
"Because," Carly answered. "I just want you to. Put your pants on and let's go."
"But I'm down there every day!" Mike protested, even though he made his way across the room to a heaping laundry basket on the couch and picked through it.
"You owe me a romantic dinner," she said blatantly, crossing her arms. "And you said the next day you had off I'd get it. So you have today off."
Mike sputtered indecipherably before finding words. "I said dinner," Mike corrected, clearly leaving out the romantic part. This made David laugh because even he knew that those two had insane crushes on each other and it'd been pretty clear the night before that they'd maybe finally come to terms with it and allowed the rest of the world in on the secret as well. Apparently it was too soon to describe dinners as romantic though.
"In the bar," Mike added, draping his selected pair of jeans over his shoulder.
"How special," Carly commented, rolling her eyes. "Go put your pants on."
Bewilderment written across his face, Mike did as he was told, returning a moment later wearing said pants and a fresh shirt, though his hair looked like he'd only combed through it with his fingers.
"You coming with us, kid?" Mike asked, now reaching his coat hanging by the door. "I'll treat, don't worry. I just give her a bad time."
"No," Carly said emphatically, so much so that both boys jumped in surprise. She gave Mike a look that could kill, though David couldn't figure out why. "He's gonna hang out with Dave tonight."
Something about the way she said it rendered both guys speechless, and when she flung open the front door to the cold, darkening day, Mike merely zipped up his coat and followed.
"Where are they going?"
Again David jumped, startled by the unexpectedly close voice behind him. He turned to find Cook still crossing the room, buttoning the next-to-last button on his shirt.
"Uh, to dinner, I guess," David answered, a little dazed by all that had happened in the last few minutes. It seemed like only seconds ago he'd been outside enjoying a beautiful winter walk, and now this sort of strange jostling of venues had happened, leaving him way off-trail.
"What, without us?" Cook asked, now leaning past David in order to peek through the sliver of window allowed by the Australian flag.
"I... guess," David replied. Cook's arm brushed his shoulder, making him freeze momentarily.
"Rude," Cook mused, turning back to David. "Too bad I would've bought dinner for everyone. Well, I've got some extra meal tickets to use up, but that totally counts."
"Oh, I think they're on a date? Or..." Cook's eyes went wide at David's suggestion, causing him to rethink what he'd witnessed. "It was hard to tell," he said finally.
"Those two are weird," Cook agreed. "I don't know what the heck's going on with them. They need to just make out and get it over with, you know?" He crossed back toward the living room, still talking. "You hanging around for a bit? You can see how my friends abandon me even under threat of weather catastrophe."
Even though David knew Cook was joking, he definitely didn't want to be the third person to walk out on him within a two minute window. Besides, an excuse to hang out with his cute ski instructor even when they didn't have a lesson sounded very nice right then. He nodded his agreement, and Cook grinned.
"Awesome," Cook replied happily. "Take your coat off and come into the living room. You want something hot to drink? Tea? Coffee?"
David pulled off his gloves, shoving them into his pockets and tugged on his parka zipper. "Um, do you have hot chocolate?"
"Hot chocolate," Cook said brightly. "You got it. I'll be back."
Cook disappeared into the kitchen, and David slipped off his coat, hanging it by the door. As an afterthought he pushed off his snow boots too, realizing they were soaking wet and covered in slush.
The Cook-Johns cabin seemed miniscule compared to the cabin his family required, only containing the two bedrooms, a small living room and kitchen. The two friends had managed to pack enough football and rugby memorabilia around the place to make someone believe they were actually visiting a sports bar, however, and the war of hometown pride spread throughout via more Australia and Kansas City souvenirs. A wide shelf near the stereo system housed dozens, if not hundreds of vinyl records, and across from it a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf bulged with novels of every sort.
David made himself comfortable on the couch while he waited for Cook to return. A well-loved acoustic guitar leaned up against the other end, and David wondered if it belonged to Cook or Mike. Both guys seemed pretty musical, but somehow he could picture it more in Cook's hands. That was what he wanted to believe anyway, the rock star persona. Who didn't love that? He leaned forward a little to get a better view of it, hoping there'd be an obvious answer like "This guitar property of David Cook" emblazoned on the front or something. There wasn't.
"You play?" David whirled around to yet again find Cook standing almost directly behind him. He really needed to stop doing that.
"Oh no," David replied as Cook made his way around and set two steaming mugs of hot chocolate on the coffee table in front of them. One of the too-full mugs sent a tiny wave of chocolate breaching over the rim, a single drip trickling down the side. "I had piano lessons."
"Mmm." Cook settled down on the couch, immediately picking up the instrument and plucking up the pick he had wedged temporarily between the strings. His fingers pulled across the taught strings as he played a series of chords that sounded familiar to David. Cook's eyes peeked back upwards, catching David's close gaze.
"So what brings you up here?" Cook asked. "I figured you'd be excited to not have to think about skiing for a day."
"Ha ha, no," David replied, sipping at his cocoa more as something to do rather than out of thirst. "Believe it or not, I like hanging out with you. Like last night." He didn't look up, but rather stared at two marshmallows in his cup that had fused to one another.
Cook looked up, eyes curious. "Yeah? Did you really have fun? Because I sort of thought I'd totally traumatized you by dragging you in there."
"I had fun, Cook," David replied. He took another sip of cocoa before looking up to find his companion sort of gazing at him, which made his stomach flip over on itself. Cook's eyes were so clear and intense, like he could see right through a person. "And I liked your singing, especially the last song. Um, like a lot."
Cook's fingers stilled over the strings, filling the room with a very pregnant pause before as he quietly asked, "Did you?"
"Yeah," David answered, almost as quietly. The eerie silence and Cook's soul-piercing eyes made David even more awkwardly uncomfortable than usual, so he did what he did best in these types of situations -- he started to ramble. "Your voice has a lot of, um, texture. Like rock and roll texture, you know? I don't even know if that makes sense. You should make records." His mug was starting to slip in his hand, so he put it down and wiped his palms on his pants.
"It does," Cook replied and cracked a smile. "And I did. I know where you can get five hundred copies of David Cook's Analog Heart for a steal, in fact. My mom will be grateful to get them out of her attic."
David almost choked. "What?" he stammered. "What do you mean?"
Cook sighed, slumping back into his corner of the couch. "The many adventures of David Cook include a brief freak-out period after the Olympic skiing hopeful fiasco where he felt the best way to defy his father was to become a rock star." Cook rolled his eyes at himself and sighed. "Didn't really work out and after two years of not really going anywhere my dad told me I had to get a job or get out."
David gaped at his friend's story. First of all because he couldn't wrap his head around no one buying an album that couldn't possibly be anything less than amazing. Secondly, it just sounded so cruel that Cook's dad would do such a thing. Two years wasn't nearly long enough to really get going in anything, let alone music.
"So what happened?" David asked eagerly, as if Cook's tale was one of his mother's Spanish soap operas.
Cook smiled broadly and cast his hands out to his sides, indicating the room like a Price Is Right model. "You're looking at it. I got out and I got a job. I'd trained here a couple times and liked it, and when I looked to see if they were hiring for anything, they were. I packed my bags and here I am."
David didn't know what to say now, and after a beat Cook chuckled again. "You know who would sell some records though?" he asked, looking at David with his hypnotizing stare.
Clearly, it should have been obvious who Cook was talking about, but the only music he'd experienced at the same time as Cook was at the karaoke thing the night before. After a second of thinking about the people he'd been most impressed by besides his ski instructor, he ventured, "Carly?"
"No," Cook replied. He leaned forward on his guitar. "You."
David sputtered and nearly fell off the end of the couch. "Wh-what?"
"David, your voice is amazing. Not even that," Cook back-peddled as a new kind of excitement filled his face. "Like, extraordinary, miraculous, out of this world... celestial!"
"What?" David replied, a little stunned by the thesaurus of descriptions pouring out at him. "Celestial?"
"Yes, David. Magical. Sparkling. I just -- you're the one who needs to go record an album right this instant." Cook scooted closer to the edge of his couch cushion, more insistant each second. "You like singing, don't you? That's your thing."
His throat closing up on him made David gasp and push himself back on the couch as if Cook's advances were pushing the air between them into his chest. Joining the group for karaoke the night before had in fact been a little bit of a selfish pleasure, even if he hadn't planned to sing to begin with. But he liked music so much that even seeing other people enjoy it made him happy. But he did enjoy singing himself, which ultimately had been the reason he'd given in to Cook pestering him about doing a song. After seeing them all having so much fun, and recognizing the joyful feelings each of them had, his inner passion finally broke free into one selfish indulgence just that once.
"I, uh," David stammered, feeling pinned to the spot by Cook's questioning. The look on Cook's face was one of discovery, and pride in finally cracking David's protective shell. "Yeah," he finally admtted. "I love it."
"Then what in the hell are you doing here?" Cook demanded. "I guarantee your mom won't have to worry about unsold CDs cluttering up her attic with a voice like yours. Seriously, David. Seriously."
David grabbed his mug of cocoa and sipped from it nervously. He avoided Cook's eyes for as long as possible, put the cup down, twisted his fingers together. The problem was, Cook didn't understand. He didn't know about, well, anything.
"Singing at church is enough," David said, now rubbing his hand on his knees.
"That is a lie and I know it," Cook scoffed. It made David's heart hurt that Cook could see right through him. "That wasn't just 'I kind of do this thing sometimes at church' that I saw last night. That was passion, man. It was heart. Love. I could see it and hear it and damn it, David, I know. I know what that feels like. It's amazing."
"Yeah, well," David replied, stiffening against the throbbing in his chest now. He tried to will himself to stand up because he suddenly felt like leaving. "Tell it to my dad. Because... because he thinks it's a waste of time. It's too risky, he says, and people die trying to make it, and it's just miserable. And a man should have a solid, upstanding, fail-safe occupation and --"
A hand suddenly clapped on his shoulder, making him look up. Cook had snuck closer to him, leaning in close -- almost too close -- and regarded him with the kindest, most sympathetic expression David had seen in a very long time.
"So," Cook said after an agonizing second. "Looks like we both have a story."
David almost couldn't stand the way Cook was looking at him. It was just so intense, which made him feel more uncomfortable than he already was. He'd never really talked with anyone about his desire for music, mostly because he knew his dad was right. It was silly to get distracted by things like that. And Cook had been proof of it, hadn't he? The music business was tough even when a person was amazing and charismatic; David definitely wasn’t charismatic and he didn't know if he could handle facing boxes of unsold albums in the corner of their garage at home.
"I, um, can I use your restroom?" David managed to stutter after a long moment, trying his best to edge off the couch. Cook got the message and eased back himself, nodding in the direction of the hallway.
"Yeah, first door on the left," he answered, and David swore he heard dejection in his voice. David practically jumped up off the couch, but tried not to flat out run across the room.
Once in the bathroom, he closed the door tightly behind him, immediately collapsing against it. He hadn't really needed to use the restroom, but rather desperately wanted to change the subject. Being someone who never really knew how to do that, he found it easier to run to the bathroom in order to break the conversation entirely. He just hoped Cook wasn't like his father, who had caught on to David's trick and always jumped right back into the conversation upon his son's return.
Flicking on the water faucet, David doused his face with some water, allowing it to trickle a little before wiping it off. It did the trick of refreshing him as he struggled to think of something to talk about upon his return to the living room. But even after drawing out washing his hands (twice), and reading all the ingredients on the hair products lined up along the counter, he hadn't thought of one thing. Sighing, he reluctantly turned the knob and made his way back down the hall.
The thing that struck David first upon his return was that the windows had darkened significantly, and though he knew it must've only been about six or seven o'clock, it looked like midnight outside. The wind howled between the little cabins, and now that he'd been watching a moment he saw that snow came down in heavy sheaves. It'd darkened in the room as well, as only a few lights had been on previously, leaving Cook slumped in a shadow on his end of the couch. The latter still strummed at his guitar, sort of mumbling words every now and again. When David drew closer, Cook looked up and smiled kindly.
"Hey, thought maybe you got lost in there," Cook said, straightening a little. "I know Mike seems to fall into another time line when he goes in there."
David couldn't help but laugh politely as he returned to his end of the couch. He watched Cook's fingers move across the strings of his guitar, studying the tiny movements. It didn't seem too much different than playing the piano in a way. Fingers were arranged on different notes to make chords, and occasionally Cook had to stretch them really wide to include a far-off note. David had had his struggles with difficult piano chords before, so he could completely understand the strain.
"Is playing the guitar difficult?" he asked at last, still studying Cook's strums.
"Not really," Cook answered. "I mean, if you're already familiar with music I think it's just a different format is all. You wanna try?"
David blanched. "Oh, I couldn't--"
But before he could say that he didn't want to be responsible for breaking Cook's guitar or something, the instrument had been pressed into his lap. Though it had fit so naturally in Cook's grasp, David felt like it was ten times too big in his possession. He gripped the neck randomly and gave a feeble strum.
"Here, put your first finger here, and these two here." Cook pointed to the strings as he spoke. "Press down hard or you won't get a clear sound. It might hurt your fingers at first since you're not used to it."
David struggled to arch his fingers cooperatively against the strings and after a second Cook reached out to grip his hand, moving his body alongside David's in order to get the correct angle. Their thighs pressed together and in what seemed like a last-second thought, Cook remembered his polite teacher etiquette.
"Is it okay if I show you?" he said just like every time he'd ever had to touch David out on the slopes. But this time the words were almost lost on his lips he said it so quietly. David sunk his teeth into his plump lower lip as he nodded stiffly.
Cook wrapped his thick, rough hand around David's, matching his fingers softly. At this point, David found it extremely difficult to concentrate on anything except how warm Cook's skin felt, how he could hear him breathing being so close. Words about familiar chords and notes tumbled out of Cook's mouth, but David suddenly had no idea what any of it meant. At some point David realized he'd missed a question or something because Cook fell silent, waiting. All David could manage to do, however, was glance up, only then realizing how dangerously close they were to one another.
Cook turned his chin towards David, and out of nervous habit David licked his lips. The next second, he felt Cook's hand leave his, only to settle gently at the nape of his neck, his fingers sliding cautiously across the fine hairs there. A solid, muted second passed before Cook inched forward and smoothed his dampened lips against David's effortlessly.
As sort of strange as it was, David didn't flail, didn't jump, didn't even move. His heart thumped as hard as it ever had in his life, yet he found it easy to let Cook kiss him. He'd secretly wished for it, he supposed, but even so he surprised himself by letting someone into his intimate space without at least a sliver of a panic attack. But Cook’s lips were as warm as his hands, softer than he’d have expected, and as comforting as a warm hug. Everything about it was inviting and safe.
The whole thing lasted but a moment before either party allowed a millimeter of cushion between their lips. They hovered in one another's space a moment, everything still except for their breaths on each other's chins. The wind picked up suddenly and whistled loudly, whipping along the building's irregular shape and crashing across rooftops. Seconds later, the windows rattled louder than they had all night and in one sharp clap the power cut, plunging them into utter darkness.
~*~
[author] kissontheneck [aka fieryrogue]
[pairing] Cookleta, Marly UST, bromance!Mavid
[beta] Emergency heroes rajkumari905 and aohatsu standing in for the ever hard-working jehane_writes this time.
[rating] PG
[word count] 5268
[summary] David is on a nice holiday ski trip with his family. Unfortunately, he doesn't know how to ski, but a couple private lessons should remedy that problem.
[disclaimer] Surely, I have nothing to do with either of these fine young men, no matter how much I wish I did.
[warnings] Too many descriptions of Cook's eyes. O_o
[author's notes] I just want to take this opportunity to love on everyone who reads this, has been reading it, will continue reading it, even when the author thinks she's David Cook and takes two years to make a new album/chapter. I love you all. :)
PART ONE: Milk Run
PART TWO: Fresh Powder
PART THREE: Drop In
PART FOUR: Falling Leaf
PART FIVE: Après Ski
PART SIX:
AVALANCHE: FALL LINE
David hefted up the incline between his family's cabin and the ski lodge, breathing heavily. Even though he'd been hauling himself and all his ski equipment up it for days now, something about this day seemed heavier, denser. Snow had fallen all through the night, nearly obliterating the well-worn paths between the buildings, so David had to take more deliberate steps in order to cut a new one for himself. The new fallen snow had also muted the world in its erasure of all signs of life on the mountain, covering cars and cabin steps; muffling birds and idle trail chatter. Muffling David's brain.
Except when he thought about it, he knew it wasn't the snow numbing his senses, it was David Cook.
The previous night had been nothing like David had ever experienced in his life. First of all because he'd had such a great time just getting to know people his age who were really different from the people he knew back home. He liked his friends at home, but Mike and Carly were different and a little crazy -- a little dangerous -- and he liked that. It made him feel a little guilty to admit it, but he really liked it. And then Cook with his being so, what was the word? Spontaneous. And funny. And a good singer. A good singer with smoldering eyes that kind of burned through a person, and a mouth that made distinct shapes around his words as if he'd chosen them very carefully for his listener.
That's how David had felt anyway. He tried really hard to convince himself that Cook was just an intense singer, but every time he dared to look up on that stage, Cook had been gazing right back, bright-eyed and unblinking. It sent shivers down his spine to imagine that Cook had been singing just for him.
The karaoke event ended shortly after that, so David had only had to endure something like twenty minutes of awkwardness after Cook returned to the table. He made sure to compliment Cook, straining to keep just this side of gushing. Cook had smiled appreciatively and for the first time seemed completely speechless; he just kept gazing at David like he'd discovered some amazing new animal or something. After a lengthy spell of strained silence, Cook finally opened his mouth to say something -- something meaningful and important, David was certain -- when Mike slurred something inappropriate and tripped over his chair in front of them both, completely killing the moment. Cook said something about that being his cue to leave and drag Mike back to their cabin, but all David could really concentrate on was how Cook pawed at the back of his neck nervously, crooked smile arched across his lips.
And that had been the same forty-five seconds that played over and over in David's mind all the way back to his cabin, all through his getting ready for bed, all the whole thirty-eight minutes it took him to get to sleep. He didn't even notice Daniel jabbing him in the ribcage or anything. He just fell asleep, David Cook's playful smile painted across the backs of his eyelids.
Cresting the hill, David noted that the lodge looked absolutely deserted. This same sight had surprised him earlier in the day when he'd come down for his ski lesson only to find a large notice posted that all lessons had been postponed due to a possible snowstorm heading their way. Unsurprisingly, this had driven a lot of people into their cabins for the day, and plenty of them off the mountain entirely. When David's dad had inquired at the front desk about it though, they'd assured him that it was purely precautionary and that the chances were slim the storm would affect them more than a few hours of higher winds. Remarkably, Mr. Archuleta had decided to keep his family checked in as planned, and David couldn't have been more relieved. He wasn't quite ready to leave the mountain just yet.
After spending the morning with his family (for the first time since they'd arrived, he realized) and enjoying a nice meal that his mother had put together, the Archuletas had gone about spending their afternoon free time individually, or at least not scheduled by their dad. Daniel snuck out his portable video game, David's mom settled down with a romance novel she'd been dying to read, and his sisters almost immediately started fighting over something ridiculous. Feeling a little antsy, David wanted to stroll outside for awhile, and pulling on his coat he told his mom he was going on a walk, promising he'd be as careful as possible and wouldn't wander off into uncharted territory.
So he stood now at the top of the little hill between the family's cabin and the lodge, pausing to take in the fresh air and the crisp, falling snow that reminded him of Christmas. It had banked pretty deeply in some places, he noticed, even deeper than just a few hours before, which made him wonder if perhaps the snowstorm might actually be a concern. After a moment of quiet thought, David got dragged abruptly back to the present when he suddenly heard his name being called.
"David! David, over here!"
Whipping around, David caught sight of Carly waving and jogging in his direction. Today she wore bright blue earmuffs with matching gloves, paired with a jacket a few shades lighter. David had learned by now that the woman had a different snow outfit for every day of the week, which was interesting for a person who didn't otherwise seem like the type who cared if her scarves matched her ski boots. Little puffs of white escaped her lips as her breath hit the cold air around them.
"Hi there, Carly," David greeted, smiling.
"Hey, David," she replied, cupping her hand over her eyes as the snowfall started to pick up a little. "What's up? Sorry about the lessons being cancelled today. They always exaggerate these things, you know? Better safe than sorry, of course. Everyone's getting a reimbursement in case they didn't tell you."
"Oh yeah, the front desk guy assured my dad of that about a thousand times," David replied. "No worries."
Carly beamed. "Good. You off somewhere special?" she asked. "Escaping the family?"
David couldn't help but chuckle. "Ha ha, yeah. Being confined in a space smaller than our house with less ease of escape can get crazy. I'm just out on a walk is all."
Carly's laugh was warm enough to melt icicles. "Me too. You wanna walk with me? If you're not going anywhere specific anyway."
"Uh, yeah, sure," David agreed. He really liked Carly, and walking out on the mountain with another person definitely sounded appealing. Not only for safety reasons, but because David liked to share moments like this with other people too.
"I'm just heading up this way," she said, pointing vaguely in a direction David hadn't been before, but he thought maybe led to the staff cabins. She started off to where she'd pointed, David tagging along.
"Sorry again about the cancelled lesson," Carly said after a minute. "Though you were probably relieved, huh? I mean, we all know it's not your favorite thing in the universe."
"Actually," David replied, surprising even himself, "I was a little bummed."
Surprise hinted across Carly's face. "This from the guy I thought hated every second of learning how to ski." She laughed a little, and David couldn't help but break a smile as well.
"It's grown on me, I guess," David murmured, hoping the blush he felt rising in his cheeks wasn't too noticeable. "If nothing else Cook makes me feel -- Er, I mean... It's fun, and time flies when I'm out here. I've kind of liked not being around my family all day long for once, you know? I mean, I'm with them all the time at home already. So yeah."
"I getcha," Carly said, and David swore she winked at him. Something about it made a little knot of anxiety weigh heavily in his stomach, as if she'd caught him in a lie. He supposed she kind of had.
The next second however, Carly had changed the subject entirely, distracting David from his thoughts about Cook as he followed her away from the rental cabins and up into what could now clearly be seen as the secluded village where the employees stayed. Once in the thick of the little homes David saw that the employee camp had more personality than the rental areas, mainly because each snow-covered porch had its own semi-permanent decorations like colored flags, wind chimes, and other quirky things David couldn't identify. Carly turned at a Y in the path towards the cabin bearing a huge blue flag with several white stars scattered across it tacked up in the window. If David's memory of geography class served him correctly, the flag was that of Australia. In the sliver of glass unoccupied by the flag, a smaller red and gold pennant boasting "Kansas City Chiefs" overlapped the corner, and unlit Christmas lights framed the perimeter of the window.
"Let's see if the two snow kings are doing anything constructive with their day off, shall we?" Carly asked, and before David could even decide if he wanted to join her or not, she'd climbed the steps to the cabin, pulling David along with her.
Despite the fact that the cabin lights stood blatantly dark, Carly knocked hard on the front door as if she'd been expected for some time now. The cabin remained deathly quiet until Carly knocked a second time, and David blushed at the stream of accented curses that could be heard approaching them now.
"Whoever the bloody hell is intruding on my day off lie-in had better have a good excuse for -- oh, hi, Carly." Mike's irritated expression changed as soon as his eyes fell on the woman at his door, and he sheepishly raked his fingers through his disheveled hair. "What... are you doing here?"
"I've come to shake you layabouts out of your beds and keep you from wasting the entire day," Carly responded. Her blue eyes trailed across Mike's worn undershirt and striped boxers and she grinned. "Put some pants on, you've got guests for goodness sake."
"Well, it's not like I knew you were coming," Mike defended as Carly pressed a hand to his chest, pushing him out of her way. Once she'd passed, he glanced back to David. "Oh, you're in on this too, are you?"
David hesitated. "I didn't, um, know..."
"Get in here before you freeze to death," Mike said, waving him in. He flung an arm over David's shoulder and kicked the door closed behind them before shouting, "Hey, Cook! Get your ass out here, we have company!"
"Who the hell is it?" came the indignant and sleepy reply from somewhere down the hall.
"Carly," Mike answered, which garnered a groan from Cook's disembodied voice.
"And David," Mike added, patting David on the shoulder. A startled "What?" answered, followed by a floor-shaking thump that to David sounded like Cook had fallen out of bed.
"He'll be right out," Mike said sweetly as if nothing at all peculiar had happened. "Coffee, anyone?"
"Mike, what are you doing?" Carly asked quickly, apparently ignorant of the last minute and a half. "And don't say sleeping."
Mike shot a glance at David as if he could possibly help him out of this interrogation. David just shrugged his shoulders because frankly, he didn't know what Carly's intentions were either.
"Come down to the lodge with me," Carly said, sneaking a quick glance at David.
Mike looked at her like she'd gone mad. "What? Why?"
"Because," Carly answered. "I just want you to. Put your pants on and let's go."
"But I'm down there every day!" Mike protested, even though he made his way across the room to a heaping laundry basket on the couch and picked through it.
"You owe me a romantic dinner," she said blatantly, crossing her arms. "And you said the next day you had off I'd get it. So you have today off."
Mike sputtered indecipherably before finding words. "I said dinner," Mike corrected, clearly leaving out the romantic part. This made David laugh because even he knew that those two had insane crushes on each other and it'd been pretty clear the night before that they'd maybe finally come to terms with it and allowed the rest of the world in on the secret as well. Apparently it was too soon to describe dinners as romantic though.
"In the bar," Mike added, draping his selected pair of jeans over his shoulder.
"How special," Carly commented, rolling her eyes. "Go put your pants on."
Bewilderment written across his face, Mike did as he was told, returning a moment later wearing said pants and a fresh shirt, though his hair looked like he'd only combed through it with his fingers.
"You coming with us, kid?" Mike asked, now reaching his coat hanging by the door. "I'll treat, don't worry. I just give her a bad time."
"No," Carly said emphatically, so much so that both boys jumped in surprise. She gave Mike a look that could kill, though David couldn't figure out why. "He's gonna hang out with Dave tonight."
Something about the way she said it rendered both guys speechless, and when she flung open the front door to the cold, darkening day, Mike merely zipped up his coat and followed.
"Where are they going?"
Again David jumped, startled by the unexpectedly close voice behind him. He turned to find Cook still crossing the room, buttoning the next-to-last button on his shirt.
"Uh, to dinner, I guess," David answered, a little dazed by all that had happened in the last few minutes. It seemed like only seconds ago he'd been outside enjoying a beautiful winter walk, and now this sort of strange jostling of venues had happened, leaving him way off-trail.
"What, without us?" Cook asked, now leaning past David in order to peek through the sliver of window allowed by the Australian flag.
"I... guess," David replied. Cook's arm brushed his shoulder, making him freeze momentarily.
"Rude," Cook mused, turning back to David. "Too bad I would've bought dinner for everyone. Well, I've got some extra meal tickets to use up, but that totally counts."
"Oh, I think they're on a date? Or..." Cook's eyes went wide at David's suggestion, causing him to rethink what he'd witnessed. "It was hard to tell," he said finally.
"Those two are weird," Cook agreed. "I don't know what the heck's going on with them. They need to just make out and get it over with, you know?" He crossed back toward the living room, still talking. "You hanging around for a bit? You can see how my friends abandon me even under threat of weather catastrophe."
Even though David knew Cook was joking, he definitely didn't want to be the third person to walk out on him within a two minute window. Besides, an excuse to hang out with his cute ski instructor even when they didn't have a lesson sounded very nice right then. He nodded his agreement, and Cook grinned.
"Awesome," Cook replied happily. "Take your coat off and come into the living room. You want something hot to drink? Tea? Coffee?"
David pulled off his gloves, shoving them into his pockets and tugged on his parka zipper. "Um, do you have hot chocolate?"
"Hot chocolate," Cook said brightly. "You got it. I'll be back."
Cook disappeared into the kitchen, and David slipped off his coat, hanging it by the door. As an afterthought he pushed off his snow boots too, realizing they were soaking wet and covered in slush.
The Cook-Johns cabin seemed miniscule compared to the cabin his family required, only containing the two bedrooms, a small living room and kitchen. The two friends had managed to pack enough football and rugby memorabilia around the place to make someone believe they were actually visiting a sports bar, however, and the war of hometown pride spread throughout via more Australia and Kansas City souvenirs. A wide shelf near the stereo system housed dozens, if not hundreds of vinyl records, and across from it a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf bulged with novels of every sort.
David made himself comfortable on the couch while he waited for Cook to return. A well-loved acoustic guitar leaned up against the other end, and David wondered if it belonged to Cook or Mike. Both guys seemed pretty musical, but somehow he could picture it more in Cook's hands. That was what he wanted to believe anyway, the rock star persona. Who didn't love that? He leaned forward a little to get a better view of it, hoping there'd be an obvious answer like "This guitar property of David Cook" emblazoned on the front or something. There wasn't.
"You play?" David whirled around to yet again find Cook standing almost directly behind him. He really needed to stop doing that.
"Oh no," David replied as Cook made his way around and set two steaming mugs of hot chocolate on the coffee table in front of them. One of the too-full mugs sent a tiny wave of chocolate breaching over the rim, a single drip trickling down the side. "I had piano lessons."
"Mmm." Cook settled down on the couch, immediately picking up the instrument and plucking up the pick he had wedged temporarily between the strings. His fingers pulled across the taught strings as he played a series of chords that sounded familiar to David. Cook's eyes peeked back upwards, catching David's close gaze.
"So what brings you up here?" Cook asked. "I figured you'd be excited to not have to think about skiing for a day."
"Ha ha, no," David replied, sipping at his cocoa more as something to do rather than out of thirst. "Believe it or not, I like hanging out with you. Like last night." He didn't look up, but rather stared at two marshmallows in his cup that had fused to one another.
Cook looked up, eyes curious. "Yeah? Did you really have fun? Because I sort of thought I'd totally traumatized you by dragging you in there."
"I had fun, Cook," David replied. He took another sip of cocoa before looking up to find his companion sort of gazing at him, which made his stomach flip over on itself. Cook's eyes were so clear and intense, like he could see right through a person. "And I liked your singing, especially the last song. Um, like a lot."
Cook's fingers stilled over the strings, filling the room with a very pregnant pause before as he quietly asked, "Did you?"
"Yeah," David answered, almost as quietly. The eerie silence and Cook's soul-piercing eyes made David even more awkwardly uncomfortable than usual, so he did what he did best in these types of situations -- he started to ramble. "Your voice has a lot of, um, texture. Like rock and roll texture, you know? I don't even know if that makes sense. You should make records." His mug was starting to slip in his hand, so he put it down and wiped his palms on his pants.
"It does," Cook replied and cracked a smile. "And I did. I know where you can get five hundred copies of David Cook's Analog Heart for a steal, in fact. My mom will be grateful to get them out of her attic."
David almost choked. "What?" he stammered. "What do you mean?"
Cook sighed, slumping back into his corner of the couch. "The many adventures of David Cook include a brief freak-out period after the Olympic skiing hopeful fiasco where he felt the best way to defy his father was to become a rock star." Cook rolled his eyes at himself and sighed. "Didn't really work out and after two years of not really going anywhere my dad told me I had to get a job or get out."
David gaped at his friend's story. First of all because he couldn't wrap his head around no one buying an album that couldn't possibly be anything less than amazing. Secondly, it just sounded so cruel that Cook's dad would do such a thing. Two years wasn't nearly long enough to really get going in anything, let alone music.
"So what happened?" David asked eagerly, as if Cook's tale was one of his mother's Spanish soap operas.
Cook smiled broadly and cast his hands out to his sides, indicating the room like a Price Is Right model. "You're looking at it. I got out and I got a job. I'd trained here a couple times and liked it, and when I looked to see if they were hiring for anything, they were. I packed my bags and here I am."
David didn't know what to say now, and after a beat Cook chuckled again. "You know who would sell some records though?" he asked, looking at David with his hypnotizing stare.
Clearly, it should have been obvious who Cook was talking about, but the only music he'd experienced at the same time as Cook was at the karaoke thing the night before. After a second of thinking about the people he'd been most impressed by besides his ski instructor, he ventured, "Carly?"
"No," Cook replied. He leaned forward on his guitar. "You."
David sputtered and nearly fell off the end of the couch. "Wh-what?"
"David, your voice is amazing. Not even that," Cook back-peddled as a new kind of excitement filled his face. "Like, extraordinary, miraculous, out of this world... celestial!"
"What?" David replied, a little stunned by the thesaurus of descriptions pouring out at him. "Celestial?"
"Yes, David. Magical. Sparkling. I just -- you're the one who needs to go record an album right this instant." Cook scooted closer to the edge of his couch cushion, more insistant each second. "You like singing, don't you? That's your thing."
His throat closing up on him made David gasp and push himself back on the couch as if Cook's advances were pushing the air between them into his chest. Joining the group for karaoke the night before had in fact been a little bit of a selfish pleasure, even if he hadn't planned to sing to begin with. But he liked music so much that even seeing other people enjoy it made him happy. But he did enjoy singing himself, which ultimately had been the reason he'd given in to Cook pestering him about doing a song. After seeing them all having so much fun, and recognizing the joyful feelings each of them had, his inner passion finally broke free into one selfish indulgence just that once.
"I, uh," David stammered, feeling pinned to the spot by Cook's questioning. The look on Cook's face was one of discovery, and pride in finally cracking David's protective shell. "Yeah," he finally admtted. "I love it."
"Then what in the hell are you doing here?" Cook demanded. "I guarantee your mom won't have to worry about unsold CDs cluttering up her attic with a voice like yours. Seriously, David. Seriously."
David grabbed his mug of cocoa and sipped from it nervously. He avoided Cook's eyes for as long as possible, put the cup down, twisted his fingers together. The problem was, Cook didn't understand. He didn't know about, well, anything.
"Singing at church is enough," David said, now rubbing his hand on his knees.
"That is a lie and I know it," Cook scoffed. It made David's heart hurt that Cook could see right through him. "That wasn't just 'I kind of do this thing sometimes at church' that I saw last night. That was passion, man. It was heart. Love. I could see it and hear it and damn it, David, I know. I know what that feels like. It's amazing."
"Yeah, well," David replied, stiffening against the throbbing in his chest now. He tried to will himself to stand up because he suddenly felt like leaving. "Tell it to my dad. Because... because he thinks it's a waste of time. It's too risky, he says, and people die trying to make it, and it's just miserable. And a man should have a solid, upstanding, fail-safe occupation and --"
A hand suddenly clapped on his shoulder, making him look up. Cook had snuck closer to him, leaning in close -- almost too close -- and regarded him with the kindest, most sympathetic expression David had seen in a very long time.
"So," Cook said after an agonizing second. "Looks like we both have a story."
David almost couldn't stand the way Cook was looking at him. It was just so intense, which made him feel more uncomfortable than he already was. He'd never really talked with anyone about his desire for music, mostly because he knew his dad was right. It was silly to get distracted by things like that. And Cook had been proof of it, hadn't he? The music business was tough even when a person was amazing and charismatic; David definitely wasn’t charismatic and he didn't know if he could handle facing boxes of unsold albums in the corner of their garage at home.
"I, um, can I use your restroom?" David managed to stutter after a long moment, trying his best to edge off the couch. Cook got the message and eased back himself, nodding in the direction of the hallway.
"Yeah, first door on the left," he answered, and David swore he heard dejection in his voice. David practically jumped up off the couch, but tried not to flat out run across the room.
Once in the bathroom, he closed the door tightly behind him, immediately collapsing against it. He hadn't really needed to use the restroom, but rather desperately wanted to change the subject. Being someone who never really knew how to do that, he found it easier to run to the bathroom in order to break the conversation entirely. He just hoped Cook wasn't like his father, who had caught on to David's trick and always jumped right back into the conversation upon his son's return.
Flicking on the water faucet, David doused his face with some water, allowing it to trickle a little before wiping it off. It did the trick of refreshing him as he struggled to think of something to talk about upon his return to the living room. But even after drawing out washing his hands (twice), and reading all the ingredients on the hair products lined up along the counter, he hadn't thought of one thing. Sighing, he reluctantly turned the knob and made his way back down the hall.
The thing that struck David first upon his return was that the windows had darkened significantly, and though he knew it must've only been about six or seven o'clock, it looked like midnight outside. The wind howled between the little cabins, and now that he'd been watching a moment he saw that snow came down in heavy sheaves. It'd darkened in the room as well, as only a few lights had been on previously, leaving Cook slumped in a shadow on his end of the couch. The latter still strummed at his guitar, sort of mumbling words every now and again. When David drew closer, Cook looked up and smiled kindly.
"Hey, thought maybe you got lost in there," Cook said, straightening a little. "I know Mike seems to fall into another time line when he goes in there."
David couldn't help but laugh politely as he returned to his end of the couch. He watched Cook's fingers move across the strings of his guitar, studying the tiny movements. It didn't seem too much different than playing the piano in a way. Fingers were arranged on different notes to make chords, and occasionally Cook had to stretch them really wide to include a far-off note. David had had his struggles with difficult piano chords before, so he could completely understand the strain.
"Is playing the guitar difficult?" he asked at last, still studying Cook's strums.
"Not really," Cook answered. "I mean, if you're already familiar with music I think it's just a different format is all. You wanna try?"
David blanched. "Oh, I couldn't--"
But before he could say that he didn't want to be responsible for breaking Cook's guitar or something, the instrument had been pressed into his lap. Though it had fit so naturally in Cook's grasp, David felt like it was ten times too big in his possession. He gripped the neck randomly and gave a feeble strum.
"Here, put your first finger here, and these two here." Cook pointed to the strings as he spoke. "Press down hard or you won't get a clear sound. It might hurt your fingers at first since you're not used to it."
David struggled to arch his fingers cooperatively against the strings and after a second Cook reached out to grip his hand, moving his body alongside David's in order to get the correct angle. Their thighs pressed together and in what seemed like a last-second thought, Cook remembered his polite teacher etiquette.
"Is it okay if I show you?" he said just like every time he'd ever had to touch David out on the slopes. But this time the words were almost lost on his lips he said it so quietly. David sunk his teeth into his plump lower lip as he nodded stiffly.
Cook wrapped his thick, rough hand around David's, matching his fingers softly. At this point, David found it extremely difficult to concentrate on anything except how warm Cook's skin felt, how he could hear him breathing being so close. Words about familiar chords and notes tumbled out of Cook's mouth, but David suddenly had no idea what any of it meant. At some point David realized he'd missed a question or something because Cook fell silent, waiting. All David could manage to do, however, was glance up, only then realizing how dangerously close they were to one another.
Cook turned his chin towards David, and out of nervous habit David licked his lips. The next second, he felt Cook's hand leave his, only to settle gently at the nape of his neck, his fingers sliding cautiously across the fine hairs there. A solid, muted second passed before Cook inched forward and smoothed his dampened lips against David's effortlessly.
As sort of strange as it was, David didn't flail, didn't jump, didn't even move. His heart thumped as hard as it ever had in his life, yet he found it easy to let Cook kiss him. He'd secretly wished for it, he supposed, but even so he surprised himself by letting someone into his intimate space without at least a sliver of a panic attack. But Cook’s lips were as warm as his hands, softer than he’d have expected, and as comforting as a warm hug. Everything about it was inviting and safe.
The whole thing lasted but a moment before either party allowed a millimeter of cushion between their lips. They hovered in one another's space a moment, everything still except for their breaths on each other's chins. The wind picked up suddenly and whistled loudly, whipping along the building's irregular shape and crashing across rooftops. Seconds later, the windows rattled louder than they had all night and in one sharp clap the power cut, plunging them into utter darkness.
~*~