MOMENTS SO DEAR -- PG-13
OH HAI. I am still alive? I promise? I had like a busy life/laziness/lack of Cookleta inspiration meltdown there for awhile? I'm trying to climb back up? I don't know. Here's a little something for you kids. Next stop: read the thousands of fics you guys have posted since I've been dead to the world, omgosh. *faints*
[title] Moments So Dear (a set of drabbles)
[author] kissontheneck [a.k.a. fieryrogue]
[pairing] Cookleta
[beta] Mine own self.
[rating] Mostly PG or PG-13
[word count] 1304
[summary] Some of the best parts of life are the tiny moments.
[disclaimer] Surely, I have nothing to do with either of these fine young men, no matter how much I wish I did.
[warnings] Potentially incorrect Spanish because I don't actually speak it. Damn, knew I should have taken that second year.
[author's notes] I don't know what the heck happened to me, but I totally lost my Cookleta mojo for awhile. I've been trying really hard lately to get it back, but keep feeling like I'm failing epically. Then I was going over some old notes and saw that I had a note that said "drabbles of moments from 525,600 for james_padfoot". Yes! Drabbles! I can doooo that! A good exercise to get back into the swing of things, I hope. I don't know if they're strictly "drabbles" by definition, but I like that term the best, so deal. :P It's also not all of them, so I may or may not do more of them later. We'll see! By the way, you may or may not want to read 525,600 first, if you haven't before. Okay, I'll stop babbling now!
MOMENTS SO DEAR
~~♥~~
Six tuxedo rentals.
Cook stood in front of the mirror and knew something looked off. He turned around twice, but couldn't figure out what on earth the problem was with his tuxedo. It looked... ill-fitted.
"David!" he shouted across the bedroom to his boyfriend who was currently fighting with his hair in the bathroom. "Will you come here? Something is wrong."
David strode out of the bathroom, a distinct portion of his hair still sticking out oddly right on top of his head. He crossed to Cook and looked at him in the mirror.
"You look fine, what's wrong?"
"Something. Something is wrong. Am I wearing this right?" Cook tugged at the shirt collar that he had struggled to button all the way to the top.
David grabbed at the bottom half of the shirt. "For one thing, it'd help if you tucked this in. I know you're not used to doing that, but it'd help." David thrust his hands unceremoniously into Cook's pants, tucking the shirt tightly under the waistband.
"Hey, whoa! Watch what you're doing there, buddy!" Cook laughed as David continued to adjust the shirt, still dressing him in a business-like fashion.
"Ha, you never complained before," David commented. "Hold still so I can adjust your vest."
"Do what now?"
"There's an adjustment band on the back, hold on." David fumbled with the buckle in frustration as Cook failed to do what he was told. "I said hold still!"
"You have a cowlick," Cook commented.
"I am perfectly aware," David said, irritation in his voice as he pulled on the strap too hard, causing Cook's vest to pucker.
"Whoa, watch it, I don't have a lot of leeway in that particular area of my body, kiddo."
"There, you're perfect."
"I know, but what about this tux? There's just something..." Cook couldn't help the grin that spread across his face.
"You're crazy," David said, unable to hold back his own smile.
"I know. Hey, come here." Cook grabbed David by the wrist and pulled him close, automatically kissing him softly before attempting to push down the uncooperative hair on his boyfriend's head.
"It's not gonna help," David sighed. "I'm going to look like a fool during the whole awards dinner."
Cook drew his left hand up to his face and licked straight across his palm, immediately transferring it to David's crown, pressing hard against his scalp.
"Ew, gross, David!"
~~♥~~
Two non-tour related nights apart.
David stormed up the steps, dragging his duffel bag behind him, it occasionally pulling along the red carpeted stairway. His head was pounding and he couldn't wait to get into his room so he could splash his face with cool water, take a Tylenol and attempt to calm down. He was so unfocused on what he was doing that he walked all the way to the end of the hall before realizing he had passed his room about halfway back. Irritated, he sighed heavily, hoisted up his bag and headed back in the other direction. Fishing the key card out of his pocket, he reviewed the number on it: 286.
Finally standing before said room, he had to slide the card four times before the green light blinked him in, and he nearly fell inside after his jacket got caught up on the doorknob.
"Gaaahh!" he shouted, flinging his bag on the floor at the foot of the bed and throwing himself down onto it. His jacket was warm and constricting, and he fought it to become free of it, letting it slide unceremoniously to the floor next to him. His eyes were tired and stinging, and he rubbed his hand against them in an effort to ease the pain that hid behind them.
He lay there, unmoving, for several minutes, exhaustion overtaking him. He let his eyes close against the blinding evening light striking in through the windows. He didn't realize how much energy he had spent in the last hour, from beginning to end, and how it seemed to all come down on him at once. His heart prickled in pain and he surprised himself as the smallest hiccup of a gasp escaped his gentle lips.
His cell phone buzzed in his pocket and without thinking, he reached for it, pulling it up into his blurred vision, blinking against the notice: "1 new message from David Cook."
He held his breath as he punched the button to select the message.
"I'm so sorry. Please come home."
In a completely uncharacteristic bout of fury, David clawed the back off the phone, ripped out the battery and threw it across the room.
~~♥~~
Two emergency flights to Kansas City.
"David, what's wrong? What was that about?"
"It was Mom, I have to go home."
"What's going on? Is it your brother? Is he okay?"
"I have to go."
"I'm going with you."
~~♥~~
Two hundred thirty-three dog walks.
Cook reluctantly pulled his shoes on and grabbed the dog's leash. Dublin had been staring at him for almost an hour, begging to go outside for a walk.
"Okay, okay, Daddy's up. Let's go."
Dublin danced around in circles, whippy black tail a blur behind him. He yipped and bounced as he followed Cook to the door.
"I said okay!"
Just as his hand reached for the doorknob, David came bounding down the stairs, jogging in place once he reached the bottom.
"Can I go with you guys?"
Cook couldn't help but laugh at the sight of his boyfriend and his dog bouncing together in a similar fashion.
"Of course you can," Cook said, smiling. This walk would be much better if David was going to join him. "I'm not running with you though, if that's what you're thinking, mister."
"No, no," David insisted, "I'll keep pace with you."
"That's what you said last time."
"Race you to the end of the street!"
~~♥~~
One "incident" involving honey.
Cook took up the honey again and again flipped the cap and squeezed a small drop onto his finger before plunging said finger into his mouth and taking an excruciatingly long time sucking it off, David's eyes glued to his mouth the whole time. Cook pulled his finger out of his mouth with a smacking 'pop' and David jumped a little at the sound. Glancing at the bottle, Cook saw there was honey dripping down the side of the bear and he drew it up to his face, sticking out his tongue and slowly tracing it up the side of the bottle, relishing every single millimeter along the way. In his peripheral vision he could see David's eyes widening as he continued to lap at the sticky liquid with little flicks of his tongue. Against his hip he felt David's erection growing and he smirked in spite of himself.
Now he took up David's left hand and grabbed his index finger, pointing it out so he could drip a glob of honey onto it. David swallowed roughly, watching as if from outside his own body. Cook smirked again, tongue playing on his lips, before lifting David's finger to his own mouth, and again proceeding to suck the honey off of it, this time being sure to run his tongue along the length of it, before clamping his lips firmly down on it and sucking fervently, like a baby from a bottle.
~~♥~~
Ninety-six Spanish outbursts, good and bad.
"Usted es imposible!"
"What's that, David? What? Don't walk away from me!"
"¿Por qué? Nunca me escuchan de todas maneras!"
"Damn it, David, if you've got something to say--"
~~♥~~
A thousand sweet kisses.
Cook was half-asleep when he felt it, the gentle pressure against his lips, soft and only slightly damp.
"What was that for?" he asked, pulling David closer to him and puzzle-piecing his nose alongside his partner's.
"Just because."
==========
[title] Moments So Dear (a set of drabbles)
[author] kissontheneck [a.k.a. fieryrogue]
[pairing] Cookleta
[beta] Mine own self.
[rating] Mostly PG or PG-13
[word count] 1304
[summary] Some of the best parts of life are the tiny moments.
[disclaimer] Surely, I have nothing to do with either of these fine young men, no matter how much I wish I did.
[warnings] Potentially incorrect Spanish because I don't actually speak it. Damn, knew I should have taken that second year.
[author's notes] I don't know what the heck happened to me, but I totally lost my Cookleta mojo for awhile. I've been trying really hard lately to get it back, but keep feeling like I'm failing epically. Then I was going over some old notes and saw that I had a note that said "drabbles of moments from 525,600 for james_padfoot". Yes! Drabbles! I can doooo that! A good exercise to get back into the swing of things, I hope. I don't know if they're strictly "drabbles" by definition, but I like that term the best, so deal. :P It's also not all of them, so I may or may not do more of them later. We'll see! By the way, you may or may not want to read 525,600 first, if you haven't before. Okay, I'll stop babbling now!
MOMENTS SO DEAR
~~♥~~
Six tuxedo rentals.
Cook stood in front of the mirror and knew something looked off. He turned around twice, but couldn't figure out what on earth the problem was with his tuxedo. It looked... ill-fitted.
"David!" he shouted across the bedroom to his boyfriend who was currently fighting with his hair in the bathroom. "Will you come here? Something is wrong."
David strode out of the bathroom, a distinct portion of his hair still sticking out oddly right on top of his head. He crossed to Cook and looked at him in the mirror.
"You look fine, what's wrong?"
"Something. Something is wrong. Am I wearing this right?" Cook tugged at the shirt collar that he had struggled to button all the way to the top.
David grabbed at the bottom half of the shirt. "For one thing, it'd help if you tucked this in. I know you're not used to doing that, but it'd help." David thrust his hands unceremoniously into Cook's pants, tucking the shirt tightly under the waistband.
"Hey, whoa! Watch what you're doing there, buddy!" Cook laughed as David continued to adjust the shirt, still dressing him in a business-like fashion.
"Ha, you never complained before," David commented. "Hold still so I can adjust your vest."
"Do what now?"
"There's an adjustment band on the back, hold on." David fumbled with the buckle in frustration as Cook failed to do what he was told. "I said hold still!"
"You have a cowlick," Cook commented.
"I am perfectly aware," David said, irritation in his voice as he pulled on the strap too hard, causing Cook's vest to pucker.
"Whoa, watch it, I don't have a lot of leeway in that particular area of my body, kiddo."
"There, you're perfect."
"I know, but what about this tux? There's just something..." Cook couldn't help the grin that spread across his face.
"You're crazy," David said, unable to hold back his own smile.
"I know. Hey, come here." Cook grabbed David by the wrist and pulled him close, automatically kissing him softly before attempting to push down the uncooperative hair on his boyfriend's head.
"It's not gonna help," David sighed. "I'm going to look like a fool during the whole awards dinner."
Cook drew his left hand up to his face and licked straight across his palm, immediately transferring it to David's crown, pressing hard against his scalp.
"Ew, gross, David!"
~~♥~~
Two non-tour related nights apart.
David stormed up the steps, dragging his duffel bag behind him, it occasionally pulling along the red carpeted stairway. His head was pounding and he couldn't wait to get into his room so he could splash his face with cool water, take a Tylenol and attempt to calm down. He was so unfocused on what he was doing that he walked all the way to the end of the hall before realizing he had passed his room about halfway back. Irritated, he sighed heavily, hoisted up his bag and headed back in the other direction. Fishing the key card out of his pocket, he reviewed the number on it: 286.
Finally standing before said room, he had to slide the card four times before the green light blinked him in, and he nearly fell inside after his jacket got caught up on the doorknob.
"Gaaahh!" he shouted, flinging his bag on the floor at the foot of the bed and throwing himself down onto it. His jacket was warm and constricting, and he fought it to become free of it, letting it slide unceremoniously to the floor next to him. His eyes were tired and stinging, and he rubbed his hand against them in an effort to ease the pain that hid behind them.
He lay there, unmoving, for several minutes, exhaustion overtaking him. He let his eyes close against the blinding evening light striking in through the windows. He didn't realize how much energy he had spent in the last hour, from beginning to end, and how it seemed to all come down on him at once. His heart prickled in pain and he surprised himself as the smallest hiccup of a gasp escaped his gentle lips.
His cell phone buzzed in his pocket and without thinking, he reached for it, pulling it up into his blurred vision, blinking against the notice: "1 new message from David Cook."
He held his breath as he punched the button to select the message.
"I'm so sorry. Please come home."
In a completely uncharacteristic bout of fury, David clawed the back off the phone, ripped out the battery and threw it across the room.
~~♥~~
Two emergency flights to Kansas City.
"David, what's wrong? What was that about?"
"It was Mom, I have to go home."
"What's going on? Is it your brother? Is he okay?"
"I have to go."
"I'm going with you."
~~♥~~
Two hundred thirty-three dog walks.
Cook reluctantly pulled his shoes on and grabbed the dog's leash. Dublin had been staring at him for almost an hour, begging to go outside for a walk.
"Okay, okay, Daddy's up. Let's go."
Dublin danced around in circles, whippy black tail a blur behind him. He yipped and bounced as he followed Cook to the door.
"I said okay!"
Just as his hand reached for the doorknob, David came bounding down the stairs, jogging in place once he reached the bottom.
"Can I go with you guys?"
Cook couldn't help but laugh at the sight of his boyfriend and his dog bouncing together in a similar fashion.
"Of course you can," Cook said, smiling. This walk would be much better if David was going to join him. "I'm not running with you though, if that's what you're thinking, mister."
"No, no," David insisted, "I'll keep pace with you."
"That's what you said last time."
"Race you to the end of the street!"
~~♥~~
One "incident" involving honey.
Cook took up the honey again and again flipped the cap and squeezed a small drop onto his finger before plunging said finger into his mouth and taking an excruciatingly long time sucking it off, David's eyes glued to his mouth the whole time. Cook pulled his finger out of his mouth with a smacking 'pop' and David jumped a little at the sound. Glancing at the bottle, Cook saw there was honey dripping down the side of the bear and he drew it up to his face, sticking out his tongue and slowly tracing it up the side of the bottle, relishing every single millimeter along the way. In his peripheral vision he could see David's eyes widening as he continued to lap at the sticky liquid with little flicks of his tongue. Against his hip he felt David's erection growing and he smirked in spite of himself.
Now he took up David's left hand and grabbed his index finger, pointing it out so he could drip a glob of honey onto it. David swallowed roughly, watching as if from outside his own body. Cook smirked again, tongue playing on his lips, before lifting David's finger to his own mouth, and again proceeding to suck the honey off of it, this time being sure to run his tongue along the length of it, before clamping his lips firmly down on it and sucking fervently, like a baby from a bottle.
~~♥~~
Ninety-six Spanish outbursts, good and bad.
"Usted es imposible!"
"What's that, David? What? Don't walk away from me!"
"¿Por qué? Nunca me escuchan de todas maneras!"
"Damn it, David, if you've got something to say--"
~~♥~~
A thousand sweet kisses.
Cook was half-asleep when he felt it, the gentle pressure against his lips, soft and only slightly damp.
"What was that for?" he asked, pulling David closer to him and puzzle-piecing his nose alongside his partner's.
"Just because."
==========