More Than Family [Cookmann] [PG-13]
[title] More Than Family
[author] Lire Casander
[beta] Unbeta'ed. Any mistakes are my own fault.
[pairing] David Cook/Neal Tiemann
[rating] PG-13
[word count] 1078
[summary] "There's only one Skibby, and there's only one Doc, Neal. And it'll be hard to change that when I love you both so much."
[disclaimer] I don't own nor have ever met David Cook nor David Archuleta. Everything about them is completely fiction, and any similarity with reality is a mere coincidence.
[warnings] Flangst.
[author's notes] Written for alaszyel's birthday. Te quiero, mi niña. ¡Feliz cumpleaños!
From the moment David grabbed the golden ticket that meant a trip to Hollywood and a chance at stardom, he had known that he would have to overcome some obstacles and curve balls thrown his way. He never imagined he'd have to duck flying objects from his best friend, though.
Neal and Andy had been the first people out of his family - by blood, David meant; they were family for the things that mattered - he had told about American Idol. David had sat them down on Bryan's couch, he had breathed in deeply and he had announced his plans for the near future. Andy had taken it first as a joke, and then, when it had been obvious that David wasn't joking, Andy had congratulated him. They had almost instantly begun planning a farewell party. At that point, Neal, who had remained silent, had got up and left the room without a word. David had made to follow him, but Andy had stopped him. "He'll come around," Andy had said. David wanted t believe him.
But six months later, Neal hadn't still come around, and David was becoming antsy with anticipation and a great fear. He needed his best friend for support, but Neal wasn't willing to take that duty upon his shoulders. Instead, all he did was complaining about how his own birthday party would turn out to be David's goodbye feats.
They hadn't talked about American Idol, which just seemed to be the issue between them; David realized, while he grabbed a glass and walked over to the punch bowl, that in fact Neal hadn't spoken anything but monosyllabic words to him in twenty-four weeks. He looked around until he spotted Andy and Neal, chatting together with a beer each. David strolled purposefully toward them; he wasn't going to miss his chance to right whatever was wrong with Neal.
"Guys," he greeted when he managed to reach them after wading through the ocean of people wanting to talk to him. He noticed Neal stifling slightly. "How's it going?"
Andy was about to reply when Neal lifted his beer bottle up to his mouth, downing it in one long swig, and left it noisily on the nearest surface, glass clinking against glass. "Later," he muttered to Andy before turning away and getting lost in the crowd.
"David," Andy started, reaching out to grasp David's arm. "Listen, Dave, it's not you."
"Like fuck it's not me!" David exclaimed, his red highlights shivering as his whole body trembled with pent-up anger. "He has barely talked to me in half a year, I'm so not going to let this slip away before leaving for Hollywood!"
David broke free from Andy's fingers and followed Neal, which wasn't all that difficult since the tall, blond man wasn't exactly invisible, until they were both outside the Blank Slate. Neal was leaning against the wall, already lightning a new cigarette.
"What the fuck is going on with you?" David spat. "You're a fucking moron."
"Back off, Dave," Neal warned him without taking his eyes off his lighter.
"Oh, he can speak!" David exclaimed, hands up n the air. "Don't fucking try to brush this off, Tiemann, answer me."
"Leave me the fuck alone," Neal attempted to snarl, but David could hear the creaking in his voice, and if he looked closely he could see the tears pooling in his eyes.
"Not until you tell me what's going on," David insisted. He stretched out his hand and touched Neal. His friend flinched away, but David wasn't letting go so easily. He grabbed Neal's wrist and held on. "Talk to me, Neal, please. I miss you, and you're not even gone."
"Might as well," Neal exclaimed, pulling to free his hand with little success.
"What does that even mean?" David searched in those blue eyes for an answer, and it was as if a truck hit him with realization. He lost his breath for a second. "Fuck, Neal," he whispered. "It's because I'm leaving, isn't it?"
Neal merely shrugged, and David decided to press on. "You'll still be my best friend, Neal. I'll be back before you can even miss me."
"Whatever, David, you're just another sell out," Neal managed to spit, though David could hear the tears in his voice.
"You and your fucking idea of pride," David muttered. "Not all of us can afford to teach children to survive!" When Neal didn't say anything, David decided to play his last card. "I'm going to miss you."
"No, you aren't," Neal said, his voice small through the haze of the smoke from the cigarette consuming in his hand. "You'll meet new people, far more talented than us, and you'll forget all about little us."
"Well," David conceded, finally understanding. "It's true I'm going to meet interesting people, and maybe they'll be more talented than you guys but, you know, my heart's set here."
Neal arched an eyebrow, as if to ask about what that last statement meant, but didn't open his mouth to speak. He just stared at David, who kept on talking.
"There's only one Skibby, and there's only one Doc, Neal. And it'll be hard to change that when I love you both so much."
Neal shrugged again, rising the cigarette back to his lips and inhaling deeply. David huffed. "That shit will kill you."
"At least I'll know what I'm dying," Neal retorted warily. "Listen, Dave, go back to your party. Enjoy. And forget about me."
"That's what you don't get!" David exclaimed, exasperated. "I can't forget about you because I'm in love with you!"
Right after speaking, David knew he had made a mistake. From the way Neal was looking at him, David was sure it had been the worst mistake of his whole life. They stood still for a few embarrassing moments before David decided to end his personal torture and turned to walk away.
He hadn’t taken half a dozen steps when he heard the clickclickclick of Neal's boots and one strong hand circled around David's wrist, forcing him to stop and face his friend.
There was turmoil in Neal's bluer than blue eyes, and something similar to-but it couldn't be-David surely was seeing-
Neal kissed him, and all David could think of was rainbows dying his world with bright colors.
"Come back to me," Neal whispered against David's lips, low voice raspy and sultry.
"Always," David promised.
They entered the Blank Slate again, hand in hand.
[author] Lire Casander
[beta] Unbeta'ed. Any mistakes are my own fault.
[pairing] David Cook/Neal Tiemann
[rating] PG-13
[word count] 1078
[summary] "There's only one Skibby, and there's only one Doc, Neal. And it'll be hard to change that when I love you both so much."
[disclaimer] I don't own nor have ever met David Cook nor David Archuleta. Everything about them is completely fiction, and any similarity with reality is a mere coincidence.
[warnings] Flangst.
[author's notes] Written for alaszyel's birthday. Te quiero, mi niña. ¡Feliz cumpleaños!
From the moment David grabbed the golden ticket that meant a trip to Hollywood and a chance at stardom, he had known that he would have to overcome some obstacles and curve balls thrown his way. He never imagined he'd have to duck flying objects from his best friend, though.
Neal and Andy had been the first people out of his family - by blood, David meant; they were family for the things that mattered - he had told about American Idol. David had sat them down on Bryan's couch, he had breathed in deeply and he had announced his plans for the near future. Andy had taken it first as a joke, and then, when it had been obvious that David wasn't joking, Andy had congratulated him. They had almost instantly begun planning a farewell party. At that point, Neal, who had remained silent, had got up and left the room without a word. David had made to follow him, but Andy had stopped him. "He'll come around," Andy had said. David wanted t believe him.
But six months later, Neal hadn't still come around, and David was becoming antsy with anticipation and a great fear. He needed his best friend for support, but Neal wasn't willing to take that duty upon his shoulders. Instead, all he did was complaining about how his own birthday party would turn out to be David's goodbye feats.
They hadn't talked about American Idol, which just seemed to be the issue between them; David realized, while he grabbed a glass and walked over to the punch bowl, that in fact Neal hadn't spoken anything but monosyllabic words to him in twenty-four weeks. He looked around until he spotted Andy and Neal, chatting together with a beer each. David strolled purposefully toward them; he wasn't going to miss his chance to right whatever was wrong with Neal.
"Guys," he greeted when he managed to reach them after wading through the ocean of people wanting to talk to him. He noticed Neal stifling slightly. "How's it going?"
Andy was about to reply when Neal lifted his beer bottle up to his mouth, downing it in one long swig, and left it noisily on the nearest surface, glass clinking against glass. "Later," he muttered to Andy before turning away and getting lost in the crowd.
"David," Andy started, reaching out to grasp David's arm. "Listen, Dave, it's not you."
"Like fuck it's not me!" David exclaimed, his red highlights shivering as his whole body trembled with pent-up anger. "He has barely talked to me in half a year, I'm so not going to let this slip away before leaving for Hollywood!"
David broke free from Andy's fingers and followed Neal, which wasn't all that difficult since the tall, blond man wasn't exactly invisible, until they were both outside the Blank Slate. Neal was leaning against the wall, already lightning a new cigarette.
"What the fuck is going on with you?" David spat. "You're a fucking moron."
"Back off, Dave," Neal warned him without taking his eyes off his lighter.
"Oh, he can speak!" David exclaimed, hands up n the air. "Don't fucking try to brush this off, Tiemann, answer me."
"Leave me the fuck alone," Neal attempted to snarl, but David could hear the creaking in his voice, and if he looked closely he could see the tears pooling in his eyes.
"Not until you tell me what's going on," David insisted. He stretched out his hand and touched Neal. His friend flinched away, but David wasn't letting go so easily. He grabbed Neal's wrist and held on. "Talk to me, Neal, please. I miss you, and you're not even gone."
"Might as well," Neal exclaimed, pulling to free his hand with little success.
"What does that even mean?" David searched in those blue eyes for an answer, and it was as if a truck hit him with realization. He lost his breath for a second. "Fuck, Neal," he whispered. "It's because I'm leaving, isn't it?"
Neal merely shrugged, and David decided to press on. "You'll still be my best friend, Neal. I'll be back before you can even miss me."
"Whatever, David, you're just another sell out," Neal managed to spit, though David could hear the tears in his voice.
"You and your fucking idea of pride," David muttered. "Not all of us can afford to teach children to survive!" When Neal didn't say anything, David decided to play his last card. "I'm going to miss you."
"No, you aren't," Neal said, his voice small through the haze of the smoke from the cigarette consuming in his hand. "You'll meet new people, far more talented than us, and you'll forget all about little us."
"Well," David conceded, finally understanding. "It's true I'm going to meet interesting people, and maybe they'll be more talented than you guys but, you know, my heart's set here."
Neal arched an eyebrow, as if to ask about what that last statement meant, but didn't open his mouth to speak. He just stared at David, who kept on talking.
"There's only one Skibby, and there's only one Doc, Neal. And it'll be hard to change that when I love you both so much."
Neal shrugged again, rising the cigarette back to his lips and inhaling deeply. David huffed. "That shit will kill you."
"At least I'll know what I'm dying," Neal retorted warily. "Listen, Dave, go back to your party. Enjoy. And forget about me."
"That's what you don't get!" David exclaimed, exasperated. "I can't forget about you because I'm in love with you!"
Right after speaking, David knew he had made a mistake. From the way Neal was looking at him, David was sure it had been the worst mistake of his whole life. They stood still for a few embarrassing moments before David decided to end his personal torture and turned to walk away.
He hadn’t taken half a dozen steps when he heard the clickclickclick of Neal's boots and one strong hand circled around David's wrist, forcing him to stop and face his friend.
There was turmoil in Neal's bluer than blue eyes, and something similar to-but it couldn't be-David surely was seeing-
Neal kissed him, and all David could think of was rainbows dying his world with bright colors.
"Come back to me," Neal whispered against David's lips, low voice raspy and sultry.
"Always," David promised.
They entered the Blank Slate again, hand in hand.