and someone save my soul tonight.
title: because the world will never take my heart.
author: expatiates
word count: ~5500.
pairing: david cook/neal tiemann, david cook/neal tiemann/andy skib, david cook/neal tiemann/andy skib/joey clement/kyle peek.
rating: nc-17.
summary: in all those weeks and months dave was away, between the show and the tour and everything else, a million things changed, he thinks, and he’s mostly really happy about those changes. but plenty of things stayed the same, and that, he’s even happier about.
disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. none of the characters in this story belong to me; they are all owned by david roland cook themselves. don’t sue. and for christ’s sake, if you got here by googling yourself, go read fivethirtyeight.com or something else more interesting than this. nothing to see here.
notes:
01. this was originally conceived as two separate fics - i had the dave/neal/andy plotty stuff in my head and started writing it, and then i…well, then i really wanted to write some gsf, so i thought, why not both? the only thing better than three hot boys sexing is five hot boys sexing, right?
02. the title and all of the subheaders are from my chemical romance’s “helena,” “give ‘em hell, kid,” “famous last words” and “welcome to the black parade.”
03. endless thank yous to novelized, misskatieleigh and courts for cheerleading duties, and an extra smooch to katie for the quick and insightful beta. (also thank you to livehead16, loveflyfree and affectingly just for existing and for always being willing sharers of fangirl flail.)
because the world will never take my heart.
01. your dreams and your hopeless hair.
Neal will never get it, he thinks.
It’s raining in Tulsa while Dave’s getting ready to leave for Omaha. His guitar’s already in his Jeep and his backpack’s slung over his shoulder when Andy asks him again if he’s going to audition.
Dave is noncommittal, makes a few helpless hand gestures, but Andy shoves him lightly and says that he should do it, what’s the worst that could happen? He smiles and looks at Neal for support, but Neal just shrugs and Andy watches Dave watching Neal, and when Dave shakes his head and says he’ll think about it, Andy knows that he won’t try out.
Except he does, and he swears he got roped into it, and nobody calls him on it even though they all know it’s not true.
He makes it through a first audition, and then a second. Andrew gets cut in the first round and Dave feels shitty about it and almost quits, but Andrew tells him to go for it and so he does, and even if things are tense between them for a while - and they are - they both know that it’ll be all right in the end, blood being thicker than celebrity, or whatever.
Dave gets in front of the judges and they love him, well, two-thirds of them do and one thinks he’s okay, so he makes it through to Hollywood. A few months later, he goes to Hollywood, makes it to the final fifty, and he can’t tell anybody, but of course, he tells them.
Andy thinks it’s hysterical; he’s watched Idol with Jennie a million times, and the notion of Dave smiling and waving next to Ryan Seacrest sounds both hilarious and awesome.
Neal congratulates Dave, lights a cigarette, and blasts his music louder than usual.
One cold week in January, Dave goes back out to LA for a few days. He calls Andy the second night he’s gone and tells him he made it, he’s in the top twenty-four. Andy shouts with glee and tells Neal, and Neal nods and smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. So Andy lies to Dave, and tells him Neal is thrilled, and he shoots Neal a dirty look when he shrugs his shoulders.
The night Dave gets back to Tulsa, his audition airs. They rewind the DVR a couple of times and they all make fun of his hair, and Neal manages not to cringe when Dave says his friends obviously want what’s best for him. The minute the show cuts to commercial, the phone starts ringing off the hook. Everyone Dave has ever known, it seems, watches American Idol, or at least knows someone who does. Four different ex-girlfriends call and Neal grabs the phone away from him on one of those calls, hangs it up, and reminds Dave how that bitch broke his heart. (Neal’s good like that.)
Then there’s the night of the Super Bowl and they’re at some bar tossing back beers, and a commercial airs with David in it, and they all yell, and people applaud, and they do shots until they’re all fairly wrecked, until Dave’s head is resting on Neal’s shoulder and he says softly “you’re happy for me, aren’t you?” and Neal ruffles his hair and exhales, and he feels too good to be a dick about it anymore, so he says “of course I am” into the top of Dave’s head.
And really, he is.
“We’ll just miss you, man.” He pauses. “I’ll just miss you.”
02. give 'em hell, kid.
Dave’s last night in Tulsa, they don’t really do anything. They partied hard last weekend, but Dave has to get up at the crack of dawn for a few quick days in Blue Springs before he’s off to LA, and his last night in town is a Wednesday and really, there wouldn’t be much to do even if they wanted to get crazy.
Andy’s got plans with Jennie that he can’t break - he apologizes a million times and Dave shakes his head and says it’s cool - but before he leaves he hugs Dave close, presses a quick, sweet kiss against his mouth. He flashes a smile as he walks out, yelling “see you on TV, heartthrob” as the door swings shut behind him.
A few hours later, Bryan’s gone to bed, and it’s just Neal and Dave, so they sit around for a while, talking about nothing and everything, the way they always have when it’s just the two of them. They talk about music, and random memories from the past few years, and some girl they both slept with a couple of months ago, although not at the same time. They talk about tattoos (Dave wants another one; Neal always wants another one). They talk about some article Neal read online about penguins (they’d both loved March of the Penguins, and for once Neal didn’t tease him, just handed Dave a tissue when he cried), and about Dave’s contingency plan for a zombie apocalypse, and they both laugh when Neal points out a major flaw in his strategy.
They don’t talk about Dave leaving.
They don’t talk about American Idol.
When Dave finally says goodnight, Neal gets up too and follows him into his bedroom, shuts and locks the door behind him. Dave turns, looks at him, raises an eyebrow. Neal shrugs and grabs the front of Dave’s t-shirt, pulling him close, licks into the corners of his mouth, and Dave makes a strangled sound, kisses him back like he’s been waiting for this all his life.
Then there are hands and lips and teeth and tongues, there’s skin traced with ink and skin dusted with freckles, and Neal looks at those pale shoulders and thinks about California and palm trees and all that sun, wonders if Dave will come home with a tan. There’s Dave pressing kisses against Neal’s hipbone, sliding lower. There are callused fingertips on delicate skin. And finally, as he pulls Dave to his feet, there’s a way Neal thinks he can say goodbye.
It’s hard to imagine Dave, his Dave, on that silly show, but Neal gets it, sort of, even if he hates to admit it. He’s always seen the hunger in his friend’s eyes (it’s one of the things he loves about him), always knew he wanted to be a star. And when Neal says, his voice strained, “turn around,” there’s hunger in Dave’s eyes then, too.
They’ve never fucked before. A few times, they’ve jerked each other off after particularly good shows, sweaty foreheads pressed together, high on adrenaline and music and the throb of the crowd. And about four hours after midnight last New Year’s Eve, Dave gave Neal three-quarters of a messy but pretty terrific blowjob before they noticed they were both too drunk to finish what they’d started.
This is new, though, and Neal thinks of how beginnings can feel like endings, sometimes, but he swallows that thought back (a week later he’ll write a song about this moment, one of the songs he keeps to himself, one that no one else will ever hear). He grabs at the bottle of drugstore-brand lotion on Dave’s dresser and gets some on his fingers, slides one into Dave’s ass as he runs his tongue along the hairline at the back of his neck. Slips another inside while David shudders and gasps out a fuck, works them in and out a bit, traces small circles inside with his fingertips while his other hand slicks his own cock.
He fucks into Dave slow and deep, standing up, Dave’s arms braced against the wall, Neal’s teeth sinking into his shoulder. Dave pushes back against him, arching his back, and the further Neal thrusts, the harder Dave grinds into him, groans fuck yes do it do it do it. Neal grips Dave’s hips, slides his hands around, touches his stomach, his thighs, lets his fingers brush through the coarse hair between them. Dave almost whimpers then, sobs out a please, and Neal licks his palm and finally wraps his hand around Dave’s cock, strokes him until he cries out, until he throws his head back against Neal’s shoulder, until he tightens and pulses around Neal’s dick, and they gasp and shake and come together.
Neal grabs the hair at the nape of Dave’s neck, tugs his head closer, nips at his earlobe. He touches Dave’s throat, feels the sweat there, the way his fingers glide across his skin, the pulse racing just below his jaw.
He says, “you’re gonna be amazing.”
03. just like a match you strike to incinerate.
In all those weeks and months Dave was away, between the show and the tour and everything else, a million things changed, he thinks, and he’s mostly really happy about those changes. But plenty of things stayed the same, and that, he’s even happier about.
He harasses people at the label, and somehow it works out, he has Neal in his band, and then Andy in his band, and even if nothing else is familiar anymore except his mom and his brothers and a few other things, he knows he’ll have this constant, knows that this, at least, will be just how he remembered.
And it is. Mostly. They all laugh together, still. Andy still tucks his head beneath Dave’s chin when they hug, Neal’s lip rings still feel, somehow, both hot and cool when he presses a kiss against Dave’s cheek. They’re still two of his best friends, still his favorite drinking buddies, and when they play music together, it still feels just like coming home.
But not everything’s the same. Sometimes Neal and Andy talk about people Dave doesn’t know, or they laugh about something he doesn’t understand, because it happened while he was gone, and when he goes “what?” sometimes they just tell him it isn’t worth explaining. And maybe it isn’t worth explaining, he thinks, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to know. Even though Andy and Neal have known each other forever, even though Dave was a replacement in MWK, he never felt like a third wheel before, never felt less than.
He tells himself it’s natural. Friendships grow and shift and change shape. It doesn’t mean anything.
One night they’re out in LA, and Dave’s drunk and kind of horny, and for the first time in months, he kisses Neal, really kisses him in a dark corner of the club, grinds against him and hopes vaguely that nobody sees. He whispers that they should get out of there, or at least go to the men’s room, and Neal grins against his mouth and suggests they bring Andy along, and Dave goes oh and Neal says what, and Dave shrugs.
“I didn’t know Andy was, I mean - I thought it was just a little making out, for him,” he says hesitantly.
Neal lets out a dirty chuckle, “oh, we crossed that bridge back in the spring.” He swipes his tongue over Dave’s lower lip, teasing. “And the summer.” Runs his fingers across the back of Dave’s neck. “And the fall. A few times.”
Dave stares at him for a minute, considering. Neal slides his hands to Dave’s waist, pulls him in until their bodies are flush together, hips pressed tight. Neal tilts his head slightly, smirks at Dave and waits for his reply.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” Dave admits.
So they pull Andy into the men’s room and lock themselves in the handicapped stall, and Dave kisses Andy, tugs at his hair, watches as Andy kisses Neal, licking delicately at his lips, playful almost, and it’s so hot - it’s incredibly hot, actually - and it’s also so obvious that they really have done this many times that it makes his chest ache. Dave leans in, trails hot, wet kisses along Neal’s neck. He wants this so much, he really does, his dick is straining against his jeans, but the way Neal’s fingers look so big, cupping Andy’s cheek so gently-
“Fuck,” Dave mutters, breaking away. “I have to make a phone call.”
He lets himself out of the stall, and they both stare after him as he takes off, as the door bangs shut behind him.
The next morning, Dave doesn’t bring it up. So nobody else does, either.
Things do change, then, more than ever. The album promotion will be starting soon and the band has to rehearse -- RCA brought in a drummer and a bassist, they’re both young and sweet and gorgeous -- has to get ready to play on national television and god knows where else, so they all end up spending a lot of time together.
And things have changed.
Neal and Andy can’t help but notice the way Dave showers the new guys (they both think of Joey and Kyle that way even though this is all new, really) with attention. How he touches Joey’s hair or Kyle’s hip, so familiar, how he stands in their space, too close even if neither of them seem to mind. How he’ll smile that smile, and disappear sometimes with one or both of them. Neal and Andy know what this means, because they know from experience that when he’s on, nobody can say no to Dave.
Nobody would want to.
So they rehearse, and Dave gets pulled in a thousand different directions, and despite the circles under his eyes he looks better than he ever has, Neal thinks, glossier somehow, even if he is sharper around the edges. Even if he did snap at Andy yesterday for no particular reason, even if he hardly looks at Neal or Andy anymore when they’re not all playing together. He’s not mean, really. Dave’s never mean. He’s just absent from them in a way he never was, even when he was in LA and they were back in Oklahoma and for all those weeks the only way they saw him was on a television screen.
The night before they leave to go to New York, Dave forgets himself, it seems like, and throws an arm around Andy while he sings, and for a minute it’s like they’re back in Tulsa, like it’s all the same again.
Try to leave a light on when I’m gone, something I rely on to get home.
When the song ends, though, he drops his arm and doesn’t look at Andy, just steps away, takes a call from his publicist.
04. we are made from the sharpest things.
Backstage at 30 Rock is every bit as chaotic and terrifying and amazing as any of them could’ve imagined. People scurry all over the place, bits of costumes or new cue cards in their hands, shouting into headsets and walkie-talkies. Seth Meyers stops in to tell Dave to break a leg, John McCain is wandering around somewhere, and the band is moments away from their first televised performance.
Soundcheck went fine; great, even. They’re all nervous anyway - well, at least four of them are, Neal never gets nervous and Andy wishes he had anything approximating that kind of cool - waiting together in a small dressing room, Kyle’s fingers beating a sharp staccato against the table.
Andy’s slightly terrified himself, and he wants to be annoyed with Dave (because he kind of is, seriously, dude is being ridiculous lately), but when he watches him pacing around, furiously rubbing his arm like he’s 10 seconds from a heart attack, he doesn’t see David Cook, big famous celebrity asshole. Just Dave, his friend Dave who cries at the drop of a hat and struggles with his weight and his hair and who wrote a sweet song for Andy on his twenty-first birthday and sang it for him at his party, even if everyone teased him about it for weeks afterward.
So Andy stands up, blocks Dave’s path before he can start his next circuit.
“Hey,” he says.
“Not now, man,” Dave says, not meeting his eyes. “I can’t-“
Andy touches Dave’s arm lightly, says “I just” and Dave shakes his head, shakes Andy off. Says, “it’s cool, I’m fine.”
By the time they hit the stage, Dave’s pulled himself together, almost. He makes it through the performance without passing out or dying, which Andy thinks is a miracle, considering how he looked backstage, and other than a few wobbles he sings pretty well. When the song ends, Dave lets a huge exhale, like he’d been holding his breath the whole time, and he looks at Neal and even though Andy can’t see his face, he sees Neal smile back at Dave, and somehow, things seem pretty okay.
They all wave to the audience, and they’re barely off the stage when Dave grabs Neal and hugs him hard, then does the same to Andy. Whispers “I’m so fucking glad you’re here” in both of their ears.
When they get back to the dressing room, Dave practically collapses onto the couch, and Andy sits beside him, close enough for their knees to touch, close enough to feel Dave still shaking.
“Fuck, that was scary,” Dave says. “Was I okay? I don’t even know. I know Neal’s solo was hot.”
“Everything I do is hot,” Neal deadpans, sitting on Dave’s other side, and they all laugh a little at that - “true,” says Andy, and they all laugh again - and Joey and Kyle sit on the coffee table in front of them, and finally the pieces fall into place, the five of them clustered in a circle. They talk in low voices, yeah, it was scary, but wasn’t it awesome?, and Kyle tells Dave he was amazing, and Andy squeezes Joey’s hand, and Neal, well, Neal just shrugs and looks cool, but he leans against Dave a little, their shoulders touching, and Andy knows it’s just to remind Dave that he’s there.
Before they leave the room for the second time, Andy leans into Dave, brushes a kiss against his mouth - it’s okay, we’ve got you - and Dave lets him. And then Kyle is touching Andy’s cheek, and Neal is threading his fingers through Joey’s curls, and by the time they step back onstage, the nerves are gone, replaced by something else, something like anticipation, something that crackles in the air between them all, rains showers of sparks that only the five of them can see.
When “Declaration” goes about a thousand times better, no one is really surprised.
05. and the collision of your kiss.
They’re all drunk by the time they get back to the hotel; tequila shots at a Saturday Night Live afterparty can do that, it seems. Crammed into one taxi, they all talk at once, and everyone makes fun of Andy for dodging John McCain by hugging Kyle, and Kyle just smiles and says “I didn’t mind.” They’re all getting texts like crazy with friends and family congratulating them, and David Archuleta sends a text to Cook that has them all in hysterics.
Dave is back to acting almost normal with Neal and Andy - kind of better, actually, he stuck close to them all night, hugged them both a few times, thanked them for being there over and over - and when Andy looks at Neal questioningly as they walk through the lobby, he shakes his head, and Andy knows Neal is right. Knows he should leave well enough alone and just be glad that whatever was wrong is apparently okay again. That would definitely be the thing to do. And so he stays quiet in the elevator, doesn’t say anything in the hall.
And then - fuck it, he thinks - Andy grabs Dave’s hand before he can get his door unlocked, tugs him into the room he and Neal are sharing instead, and Neal shoots him a threatening glare, but Andy ignores him. When they’re inside, just the three of them, Andy says, finally, “so, uh. I just want to ask. Are we…are we cool now, Dave? With…whatever?”
Dave nods slowly, the grin he’s been wearing all night fading off his face. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, shakes his head helplessly and bites his lip.
“Fuck, man,” Neal says, his hands clenching into fists at his sides, “look, are you seriously pissed off because he and I fucked? Is that what this is about?”
Dave blinks a few times, looking startled, and it takes him a long time to speak. When he finally answers, his voice is hoarse.
“God, no. No. I just…fuck, man. I don’t know. I’ve been such an idiot, I know. It’s that…I was gone for all that time, right? And I missed you guys so much. I missed all of us together, you know…like, in general? And that night it all just hit me at once, like it was just another way…how it seemed like I wasn’t - like you guys didn’t need-”
His voice breaks on the last word and Neal inhales sharply, and Andy goes “oh, hey, no” and they’re both moving toward Dave. Andy gets there first, pulls the other man into a tight hug, and then Neal is reaching out and silently wrapping his arms around them both, and for several minutes, the only sound in the room is their breathing.
Then Dave laughs into Andy’s hair, and the other men both look at him, and he’s beaming even if his eyes are suspiciously shiny, even if his already-smudged eyeliner is smeared a little further, and they laugh too. Dave kisses Neal, and then Andy, and then Andy kisses Neal, and Neal goes “so…should we try this again?” and Dave says “hell yes” and Andy says “wait, I have an idea” and slips out of Neal’s arms, and out of the room, says “I’ll be right back” as he disappears out the door.
Dave and Neal manage to occupy themselves in his absence, and when the door swings back open a minute later, Dave’s already panting with his back against the wall and Neal’s hand shoved down the front of his jeans.
Andy clears his throat and they both turn, and Andy’s watching them, looking smug, flanked by Joey and Kyle. Kyle’s mouth is slightly open, and Joey’s eyebrows are so high that they could almost disappear into his curls. Neither of them look exactly upset, though, and it’s not until Andy rolls his eyes and says “I guess you guys don’t understand the meaning of the word ‘wait,’ I know it’s a big one” that Neal reluctantly pulls his hand out of David’s pants.
Dave collects himself, somewhat, and decides they all need drinks, that a toast is in order, so Neal gets the bottle of Jack that’s sitting by the coffeemaker, and Andy collects hotel glasses, and Dave pours five shots. He passes them out, and they all hold them up, and they all pretend not to notice how Dave almost cries when he thanks them.
Kyle’s the youngest of the group, still not quite twenty-one, and he’s drunker than the others, giggling at nothing as his hair falls in his face. Dave reaches for him and brushes his hair out of his eyes, then pulls him close, kissing him deeply, and Kyle melts into his touch, almost purring as he wraps his arms around Dave’s neck.
Andy mutters “so fucking hot” as he steps close, pulls Kyle’s hair back so he can watch them kiss. He licks at the exposed skin below the younger man’s ear and when Kyle murmurs approvingly, Andy moves closer still, hooks his fingers into the front pockets of Dave’s jeans so that Kyle is pressed tightly between the two of them.
Neal shudders, watching, and he turns to look at Joey - the way his eyes are glued to the other men, the sharp rise and fall of his chest. He licks his lips, touches Joey’s shoulder. When Joey turns toward him, Neal leans in and kisses him lightly, catches his lower lip gently between his teeth. Joey responds eagerly, opens his lips and lets Neal slip his tongue between them.
Joey moves closer, pressing against Neal, sucking on his tongue, and his straining cock nudges hard against Neal’s thigh through both of their jeans. As Neal reaches for his belt buckle, Joey breaks the kiss, not moving away, just whispering that he hasn’t really done much, just with Dave, and mostly they just made out, but he wants to do more, he’s ready for more, and he only stops talking when Neal pushes him gently onto the bed, yanks his pants down around his thighs, drops to his knees, and licks a long, wet stripe up Joey’s dick.
“Ohhhh,” Joey breathes, “okay.”
Neal’s never actually sucked dick before, but he’s gotten enough blowjobs in his life that he figures he gets the concept, and the sound Joey makes as Neal slides his lips slowly down the length of him tells him all he needs to know. It’s actually kind of hot, Neal thinks, the weight of Joey’s cock against his tongue, the warm salty-sweet taste when he laps at the tip.
Then suddenly Andy is next to him, stripped to just his boxers, dark-eyed and flushed and beautiful as he leans in, kisses Neal, flicks his tongue against Joey’s cock. Joey catches his breath, props himself up on his elbows to watch Neal and Andy trading deep slow kisses, their tongues tangling and thrumming together against his dick. And it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen, he thinks, made only hotter by Dave and Kyle still entwined a few feet away, by the soft pleasured sounds Kyle is making with Dave’s hand squeezing him through his boxers.
Dave finally pushes Kyle away gently, nudges him toward the others. Kyle moves eagerly behind Andy, dropping to his knees to run his hands over Andy’s bare chest, to trace his tongue along Andy’s shoulders, and the next time Andy dips his head to take Joey’s cock in his mouth, Dave grabs Neal’s arm and drags him to his feet, makes a needy sound as their mouths collide. He presses his tongue into Neal’s mouth, drags his teeth over the piercings in Neal’s lip, almost hard enough to hurt.
Neal pulls back slightly and traces his fingers over Dave’s lips, whispers “fuck yeah” as Dave opens his mouth and sucks two fingers in, swirls his tongue along them and in-between. He’s fumbling with the buttons of Neal’s shirt, sliding it off his shoulders. Dave grabs Neal’s wrist and pulls his fingers out of his mouth, runs his tongue up the length of each and then he’s pressing close, licking at Neal’s lips as he tugs Neal’s hand behind him, down low, and he’s undoing his own fly, letting his jeans slide down his hips as he guides Neal’s fingers toward his entrance.
Neal groans and shoves Dave onto the unoccupied bed, looks at him sprawled out there, and before Dave can so much as whimper Neal is beside him, sucking on his throat, enjoying the hiss that Dave makes as he presses one finger inside, then another. Dave yanks desperately at Neal’s belt buckle, and he works it open; he’s reaching for the zipper as he says “please, please, fuck, Neal, it’s been so long.”
Neal lets David tug off his jeans, lies back on the bed as David crawls over him, inhales sharply at the feel of all that skin, at the sensation of another cock pressed against his own. Dave is still insistent, kissing him wetly, hot breath against Neal’s ear, fuck me I want it I need it and it’s all Neal can do not to flip him over, to cover Dave’s body with his own and pin his wrists to the bed and fuck him until he’s shaking and incoherent, until he’s begging Neal to stop, but instead he grits his teeth - next time, he thinks - and pushes on Dave’s shoulders, waits for him to take the hint, whispers in his ear, “don’t worry, heartthrob, you’re getting fucked tonight.”
Dave kisses him hard, then, and even if everything’s changed, this is as good as it ever was - better - and Neal sighs as Dave slides down his body, settles between his thighs, licks hungrily around the head of Neal’s cock before he takes it into his mouth.
Neal looks over at the other bed, at Joey sprawled across it, his head thrown back. At Andy kneeling between Joey’s legs, sucking him slowly - Andy gives amazing head, Neal knows this, knows the way Andy can bring you just to the brink and then ease off, over and over, until you think you might explode, looking up with those wide, innocent eyes - and Kyle pressed against Andy, nipping at his shoulder, one hand on Andy’s dick and the other resting on Joey’s shaking thigh.
“Joey,” Neal says. “Get over here. Now.”
Joey just goes “huh?” but Andy’s known Neal for way too many years to ignore him when he uses that tone of voice, so he pulls his mouth off of Joey’s cock and glances over at Dave and Neal. He gets it almost immediately and nudges Joey hard, says “go” and Joey somehow stands up, and he sucks in a breath at the sight of Neal laid out on the bed with one arm tucked behind his head and the other hand resting at the base of Dave’s skull…and at the sight of Dave’s ass, pale and curved and bare and perfect, no more than three feet in front of him.
Joey’s eyes meet Neal’s and he opens his mouth, unsure, and Neal looks at him lazily, eyes glittering, and bites his lower lip, slowly lets his hips roll up as Dave tongues his cock.
“Fuck him,” Neal says. Dave whimpers at that, digs his nails into Neal’s thigh and Neal groans and grabs a handful of his hair.
Joey reaches for Dave cautiously, trails his fingers lightly over his hip. “Yeah?”
“Do it,” Neal grits out, “he likes it hard.”
He closes his eyes and drops his head back, hears Joey whisper “can I?” and then “hold on, let me find-” and then there’s the feel of his weight on the bed, of his knee bumping against Neal’s calf.
Neal opens his eyes when Dave moans around his dick, watches Joey gripping his friend’s hips, sinking in from behind, his eyes closed, biting his lip, the way his nails leave tiny dents in Dave’s skin. Neal knows what that’s like, remembers the feeling of pushing into that impossible tight heat, how Dave rolled his hips back to get that extra inch just when Neal thought there was no further to go. The way he didn’t just get fucked, but fucked back, how even as he trembled and cried out, he just wanted moremoremore.
Neal lets out a low growl, remembering, his hips jerking up, thrusting hard into Dave’s mouth, and then Andy is beside him, kissing him fiercely, biting at his lips and tugging Neal’s piercings between his teeth. He presses closer, his tongue slick against Neal’s, small needy sounds escaping between their mouths as Kyle fists Andy’s cock, licks at the back of his neck, presses his thin body close.
Andy whimpers and his mouth goes slack against Neal’s, and Neal pulls Andy’s head against his neck, runs his fingers through the smaller man’s hair as Kyle slowly pushes into Andy from behind, reaches out and grabs Kyle’s hip and pulls them both closer, the two of them spooned tightly against Neal’s side.
Neal shuts his eyes again, and just listens. Listens to Joey fucking into Dave, gasping, the sound of skin slapping against skin as he thrusts harder and faster, the small broken sounds that Dave makes. Listens to Kyle’s ragged breathing, to the soft moan Andy is stifling against Neal’s shoulder, to his own stuttered groans.
It sounds like some impossible discordant harmony, thrumming in his ears.
When Neal comes, all he can say is yes.
06. awake and unafraid.
It’s officially seven minutes until the album release.
Dave is pacing - again - and Andy is watching him - again - but this time when he goes “hey, Dave” it actually works, Dave goes “yeah?” and Andy says “stop.”
So he does. He stops, and he sits, and when Neal tells him it’s ok, everyone will love it, Dave half-jokes that he’ll be happy if everyone doesn’t hate it. Andy and Joey call him a drama queen in stereo, and then they high-five, and Dave can’t help but laugh. And then Kyle says “fuck it, let’s get out of here, I have an idea.”
So they go to the record store, of course. They see David Cook on display and they all geek out a bit, and take cellphone pictures, and they hug, all of them, and ignore the people staring at them open-mouthed from behind the counter.
Then Andy buys a copy of the album for Joey, and Joey buys it for Neal, and Kyle buys it for Andy, and Dave buys it for Kyle.
Neal buys a copy for Dave. And an extra for himself, “just in case,” he says with a shrug.
When they get back to the hotel, and Dave kisses Neal’s cheek and says thank you, they both know it’s not for anything tucked inside a shiny jewel case.
author: expatiates
word count: ~5500.
pairing: david cook/neal tiemann, david cook/neal tiemann/andy skib, david cook/neal tiemann/andy skib/joey clement/kyle peek.
rating: nc-17.
summary: in all those weeks and months dave was away, between the show and the tour and everything else, a million things changed, he thinks, and he’s mostly really happy about those changes. but plenty of things stayed the same, and that, he’s even happier about.
disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. none of the characters in this story belong to me; they are all owned by david roland cook themselves. don’t sue. and for christ’s sake, if you got here by googling yourself, go read fivethirtyeight.com or something else more interesting than this. nothing to see here.
notes:
01. this was originally conceived as two separate fics - i had the dave/neal/andy plotty stuff in my head and started writing it, and then i…well, then i really wanted to write some gsf, so i thought, why not both? the only thing better than three hot boys sexing is five hot boys sexing, right?
02. the title and all of the subheaders are from my chemical romance’s “helena,” “give ‘em hell, kid,” “famous last words” and “welcome to the black parade.”
03. endless thank yous to novelized, misskatieleigh and courts for cheerleading duties, and an extra smooch to katie for the quick and insightful beta. (also thank you to livehead16, loveflyfree and affectingly just for existing and for always being willing sharers of fangirl flail.)
because the world will never take my heart.
01. your dreams and your hopeless hair.
Neal will never get it, he thinks.
It’s raining in Tulsa while Dave’s getting ready to leave for Omaha. His guitar’s already in his Jeep and his backpack’s slung over his shoulder when Andy asks him again if he’s going to audition.
Dave is noncommittal, makes a few helpless hand gestures, but Andy shoves him lightly and says that he should do it, what’s the worst that could happen? He smiles and looks at Neal for support, but Neal just shrugs and Andy watches Dave watching Neal, and when Dave shakes his head and says he’ll think about it, Andy knows that he won’t try out.
Except he does, and he swears he got roped into it, and nobody calls him on it even though they all know it’s not true.
He makes it through a first audition, and then a second. Andrew gets cut in the first round and Dave feels shitty about it and almost quits, but Andrew tells him to go for it and so he does, and even if things are tense between them for a while - and they are - they both know that it’ll be all right in the end, blood being thicker than celebrity, or whatever.
Dave gets in front of the judges and they love him, well, two-thirds of them do and one thinks he’s okay, so he makes it through to Hollywood. A few months later, he goes to Hollywood, makes it to the final fifty, and he can’t tell anybody, but of course, he tells them.
Andy thinks it’s hysterical; he’s watched Idol with Jennie a million times, and the notion of Dave smiling and waving next to Ryan Seacrest sounds both hilarious and awesome.
Neal congratulates Dave, lights a cigarette, and blasts his music louder than usual.
One cold week in January, Dave goes back out to LA for a few days. He calls Andy the second night he’s gone and tells him he made it, he’s in the top twenty-four. Andy shouts with glee and tells Neal, and Neal nods and smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. So Andy lies to Dave, and tells him Neal is thrilled, and he shoots Neal a dirty look when he shrugs his shoulders.
The night Dave gets back to Tulsa, his audition airs. They rewind the DVR a couple of times and they all make fun of his hair, and Neal manages not to cringe when Dave says his friends obviously want what’s best for him. The minute the show cuts to commercial, the phone starts ringing off the hook. Everyone Dave has ever known, it seems, watches American Idol, or at least knows someone who does. Four different ex-girlfriends call and Neal grabs the phone away from him on one of those calls, hangs it up, and reminds Dave how that bitch broke his heart. (Neal’s good like that.)
Then there’s the night of the Super Bowl and they’re at some bar tossing back beers, and a commercial airs with David in it, and they all yell, and people applaud, and they do shots until they’re all fairly wrecked, until Dave’s head is resting on Neal’s shoulder and he says softly “you’re happy for me, aren’t you?” and Neal ruffles his hair and exhales, and he feels too good to be a dick about it anymore, so he says “of course I am” into the top of Dave’s head.
And really, he is.
“We’ll just miss you, man.” He pauses. “I’ll just miss you.”
02. give 'em hell, kid.
Dave’s last night in Tulsa, they don’t really do anything. They partied hard last weekend, but Dave has to get up at the crack of dawn for a few quick days in Blue Springs before he’s off to LA, and his last night in town is a Wednesday and really, there wouldn’t be much to do even if they wanted to get crazy.
Andy’s got plans with Jennie that he can’t break - he apologizes a million times and Dave shakes his head and says it’s cool - but before he leaves he hugs Dave close, presses a quick, sweet kiss against his mouth. He flashes a smile as he walks out, yelling “see you on TV, heartthrob” as the door swings shut behind him.
A few hours later, Bryan’s gone to bed, and it’s just Neal and Dave, so they sit around for a while, talking about nothing and everything, the way they always have when it’s just the two of them. They talk about music, and random memories from the past few years, and some girl they both slept with a couple of months ago, although not at the same time. They talk about tattoos (Dave wants another one; Neal always wants another one). They talk about some article Neal read online about penguins (they’d both loved March of the Penguins, and for once Neal didn’t tease him, just handed Dave a tissue when he cried), and about Dave’s contingency plan for a zombie apocalypse, and they both laugh when Neal points out a major flaw in his strategy.
They don’t talk about Dave leaving.
They don’t talk about American Idol.
When Dave finally says goodnight, Neal gets up too and follows him into his bedroom, shuts and locks the door behind him. Dave turns, looks at him, raises an eyebrow. Neal shrugs and grabs the front of Dave’s t-shirt, pulling him close, licks into the corners of his mouth, and Dave makes a strangled sound, kisses him back like he’s been waiting for this all his life.
Then there are hands and lips and teeth and tongues, there’s skin traced with ink and skin dusted with freckles, and Neal looks at those pale shoulders and thinks about California and palm trees and all that sun, wonders if Dave will come home with a tan. There’s Dave pressing kisses against Neal’s hipbone, sliding lower. There are callused fingertips on delicate skin. And finally, as he pulls Dave to his feet, there’s a way Neal thinks he can say goodbye.
It’s hard to imagine Dave, his Dave, on that silly show, but Neal gets it, sort of, even if he hates to admit it. He’s always seen the hunger in his friend’s eyes (it’s one of the things he loves about him), always knew he wanted to be a star. And when Neal says, his voice strained, “turn around,” there’s hunger in Dave’s eyes then, too.
They’ve never fucked before. A few times, they’ve jerked each other off after particularly good shows, sweaty foreheads pressed together, high on adrenaline and music and the throb of the crowd. And about four hours after midnight last New Year’s Eve, Dave gave Neal three-quarters of a messy but pretty terrific blowjob before they noticed they were both too drunk to finish what they’d started.
This is new, though, and Neal thinks of how beginnings can feel like endings, sometimes, but he swallows that thought back (a week later he’ll write a song about this moment, one of the songs he keeps to himself, one that no one else will ever hear). He grabs at the bottle of drugstore-brand lotion on Dave’s dresser and gets some on his fingers, slides one into Dave’s ass as he runs his tongue along the hairline at the back of his neck. Slips another inside while David shudders and gasps out a fuck, works them in and out a bit, traces small circles inside with his fingertips while his other hand slicks his own cock.
He fucks into Dave slow and deep, standing up, Dave’s arms braced against the wall, Neal’s teeth sinking into his shoulder. Dave pushes back against him, arching his back, and the further Neal thrusts, the harder Dave grinds into him, groans fuck yes do it do it do it. Neal grips Dave’s hips, slides his hands around, touches his stomach, his thighs, lets his fingers brush through the coarse hair between them. Dave almost whimpers then, sobs out a please, and Neal licks his palm and finally wraps his hand around Dave’s cock, strokes him until he cries out, until he throws his head back against Neal’s shoulder, until he tightens and pulses around Neal’s dick, and they gasp and shake and come together.
Neal grabs the hair at the nape of Dave’s neck, tugs his head closer, nips at his earlobe. He touches Dave’s throat, feels the sweat there, the way his fingers glide across his skin, the pulse racing just below his jaw.
He says, “you’re gonna be amazing.”
03. just like a match you strike to incinerate.
In all those weeks and months Dave was away, between the show and the tour and everything else, a million things changed, he thinks, and he’s mostly really happy about those changes. But plenty of things stayed the same, and that, he’s even happier about.
He harasses people at the label, and somehow it works out, he has Neal in his band, and then Andy in his band, and even if nothing else is familiar anymore except his mom and his brothers and a few other things, he knows he’ll have this constant, knows that this, at least, will be just how he remembered.
And it is. Mostly. They all laugh together, still. Andy still tucks his head beneath Dave’s chin when they hug, Neal’s lip rings still feel, somehow, both hot and cool when he presses a kiss against Dave’s cheek. They’re still two of his best friends, still his favorite drinking buddies, and when they play music together, it still feels just like coming home.
But not everything’s the same. Sometimes Neal and Andy talk about people Dave doesn’t know, or they laugh about something he doesn’t understand, because it happened while he was gone, and when he goes “what?” sometimes they just tell him it isn’t worth explaining. And maybe it isn’t worth explaining, he thinks, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to know. Even though Andy and Neal have known each other forever, even though Dave was a replacement in MWK, he never felt like a third wheel before, never felt less than.
He tells himself it’s natural. Friendships grow and shift and change shape. It doesn’t mean anything.
One night they’re out in LA, and Dave’s drunk and kind of horny, and for the first time in months, he kisses Neal, really kisses him in a dark corner of the club, grinds against him and hopes vaguely that nobody sees. He whispers that they should get out of there, or at least go to the men’s room, and Neal grins against his mouth and suggests they bring Andy along, and Dave goes oh and Neal says what, and Dave shrugs.
“I didn’t know Andy was, I mean - I thought it was just a little making out, for him,” he says hesitantly.
Neal lets out a dirty chuckle, “oh, we crossed that bridge back in the spring.” He swipes his tongue over Dave’s lower lip, teasing. “And the summer.” Runs his fingers across the back of Dave’s neck. “And the fall. A few times.”
Dave stares at him for a minute, considering. Neal slides his hands to Dave’s waist, pulls him in until their bodies are flush together, hips pressed tight. Neal tilts his head slightly, smirks at Dave and waits for his reply.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” Dave admits.
So they pull Andy into the men’s room and lock themselves in the handicapped stall, and Dave kisses Andy, tugs at his hair, watches as Andy kisses Neal, licking delicately at his lips, playful almost, and it’s so hot - it’s incredibly hot, actually - and it’s also so obvious that they really have done this many times that it makes his chest ache. Dave leans in, trails hot, wet kisses along Neal’s neck. He wants this so much, he really does, his dick is straining against his jeans, but the way Neal’s fingers look so big, cupping Andy’s cheek so gently-
“Fuck,” Dave mutters, breaking away. “I have to make a phone call.”
He lets himself out of the stall, and they both stare after him as he takes off, as the door bangs shut behind him.
The next morning, Dave doesn’t bring it up. So nobody else does, either.
Things do change, then, more than ever. The album promotion will be starting soon and the band has to rehearse -- RCA brought in a drummer and a bassist, they’re both young and sweet and gorgeous -- has to get ready to play on national television and god knows where else, so they all end up spending a lot of time together.
And things have changed.
Neal and Andy can’t help but notice the way Dave showers the new guys (they both think of Joey and Kyle that way even though this is all new, really) with attention. How he touches Joey’s hair or Kyle’s hip, so familiar, how he stands in their space, too close even if neither of them seem to mind. How he’ll smile that smile, and disappear sometimes with one or both of them. Neal and Andy know what this means, because they know from experience that when he’s on, nobody can say no to Dave.
Nobody would want to.
So they rehearse, and Dave gets pulled in a thousand different directions, and despite the circles under his eyes he looks better than he ever has, Neal thinks, glossier somehow, even if he is sharper around the edges. Even if he did snap at Andy yesterday for no particular reason, even if he hardly looks at Neal or Andy anymore when they’re not all playing together. He’s not mean, really. Dave’s never mean. He’s just absent from them in a way he never was, even when he was in LA and they were back in Oklahoma and for all those weeks the only way they saw him was on a television screen.
The night before they leave to go to New York, Dave forgets himself, it seems like, and throws an arm around Andy while he sings, and for a minute it’s like they’re back in Tulsa, like it’s all the same again.
Try to leave a light on when I’m gone, something I rely on to get home.
When the song ends, though, he drops his arm and doesn’t look at Andy, just steps away, takes a call from his publicist.
04. we are made from the sharpest things.
Backstage at 30 Rock is every bit as chaotic and terrifying and amazing as any of them could’ve imagined. People scurry all over the place, bits of costumes or new cue cards in their hands, shouting into headsets and walkie-talkies. Seth Meyers stops in to tell Dave to break a leg, John McCain is wandering around somewhere, and the band is moments away from their first televised performance.
Soundcheck went fine; great, even. They’re all nervous anyway - well, at least four of them are, Neal never gets nervous and Andy wishes he had anything approximating that kind of cool - waiting together in a small dressing room, Kyle’s fingers beating a sharp staccato against the table.
Andy’s slightly terrified himself, and he wants to be annoyed with Dave (because he kind of is, seriously, dude is being ridiculous lately), but when he watches him pacing around, furiously rubbing his arm like he’s 10 seconds from a heart attack, he doesn’t see David Cook, big famous celebrity asshole. Just Dave, his friend Dave who cries at the drop of a hat and struggles with his weight and his hair and who wrote a sweet song for Andy on his twenty-first birthday and sang it for him at his party, even if everyone teased him about it for weeks afterward.
So Andy stands up, blocks Dave’s path before he can start his next circuit.
“Hey,” he says.
“Not now, man,” Dave says, not meeting his eyes. “I can’t-“
Andy touches Dave’s arm lightly, says “I just” and Dave shakes his head, shakes Andy off. Says, “it’s cool, I’m fine.”
By the time they hit the stage, Dave’s pulled himself together, almost. He makes it through the performance without passing out or dying, which Andy thinks is a miracle, considering how he looked backstage, and other than a few wobbles he sings pretty well. When the song ends, Dave lets a huge exhale, like he’d been holding his breath the whole time, and he looks at Neal and even though Andy can’t see his face, he sees Neal smile back at Dave, and somehow, things seem pretty okay.
They all wave to the audience, and they’re barely off the stage when Dave grabs Neal and hugs him hard, then does the same to Andy. Whispers “I’m so fucking glad you’re here” in both of their ears.
When they get back to the dressing room, Dave practically collapses onto the couch, and Andy sits beside him, close enough for their knees to touch, close enough to feel Dave still shaking.
“Fuck, that was scary,” Dave says. “Was I okay? I don’t even know. I know Neal’s solo was hot.”
“Everything I do is hot,” Neal deadpans, sitting on Dave’s other side, and they all laugh a little at that - “true,” says Andy, and they all laugh again - and Joey and Kyle sit on the coffee table in front of them, and finally the pieces fall into place, the five of them clustered in a circle. They talk in low voices, yeah, it was scary, but wasn’t it awesome?, and Kyle tells Dave he was amazing, and Andy squeezes Joey’s hand, and Neal, well, Neal just shrugs and looks cool, but he leans against Dave a little, their shoulders touching, and Andy knows it’s just to remind Dave that he’s there.
Before they leave the room for the second time, Andy leans into Dave, brushes a kiss against his mouth - it’s okay, we’ve got you - and Dave lets him. And then Kyle is touching Andy’s cheek, and Neal is threading his fingers through Joey’s curls, and by the time they step back onstage, the nerves are gone, replaced by something else, something like anticipation, something that crackles in the air between them all, rains showers of sparks that only the five of them can see.
When “Declaration” goes about a thousand times better, no one is really surprised.
05. and the collision of your kiss.
They’re all drunk by the time they get back to the hotel; tequila shots at a Saturday Night Live afterparty can do that, it seems. Crammed into one taxi, they all talk at once, and everyone makes fun of Andy for dodging John McCain by hugging Kyle, and Kyle just smiles and says “I didn’t mind.” They’re all getting texts like crazy with friends and family congratulating them, and David Archuleta sends a text to Cook that has them all in hysterics.
Dave is back to acting almost normal with Neal and Andy - kind of better, actually, he stuck close to them all night, hugged them both a few times, thanked them for being there over and over - and when Andy looks at Neal questioningly as they walk through the lobby, he shakes his head, and Andy knows Neal is right. Knows he should leave well enough alone and just be glad that whatever was wrong is apparently okay again. That would definitely be the thing to do. And so he stays quiet in the elevator, doesn’t say anything in the hall.
And then - fuck it, he thinks - Andy grabs Dave’s hand before he can get his door unlocked, tugs him into the room he and Neal are sharing instead, and Neal shoots him a threatening glare, but Andy ignores him. When they’re inside, just the three of them, Andy says, finally, “so, uh. I just want to ask. Are we…are we cool now, Dave? With…whatever?”
Dave nods slowly, the grin he’s been wearing all night fading off his face. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, shakes his head helplessly and bites his lip.
“Fuck, man,” Neal says, his hands clenching into fists at his sides, “look, are you seriously pissed off because he and I fucked? Is that what this is about?”
Dave blinks a few times, looking startled, and it takes him a long time to speak. When he finally answers, his voice is hoarse.
“God, no. No. I just…fuck, man. I don’t know. I’ve been such an idiot, I know. It’s that…I was gone for all that time, right? And I missed you guys so much. I missed all of us together, you know…like, in general? And that night it all just hit me at once, like it was just another way…how it seemed like I wasn’t - like you guys didn’t need-”
His voice breaks on the last word and Neal inhales sharply, and Andy goes “oh, hey, no” and they’re both moving toward Dave. Andy gets there first, pulls the other man into a tight hug, and then Neal is reaching out and silently wrapping his arms around them both, and for several minutes, the only sound in the room is their breathing.
Then Dave laughs into Andy’s hair, and the other men both look at him, and he’s beaming even if his eyes are suspiciously shiny, even if his already-smudged eyeliner is smeared a little further, and they laugh too. Dave kisses Neal, and then Andy, and then Andy kisses Neal, and Neal goes “so…should we try this again?” and Dave says “hell yes” and Andy says “wait, I have an idea” and slips out of Neal’s arms, and out of the room, says “I’ll be right back” as he disappears out the door.
Dave and Neal manage to occupy themselves in his absence, and when the door swings back open a minute later, Dave’s already panting with his back against the wall and Neal’s hand shoved down the front of his jeans.
Andy clears his throat and they both turn, and Andy’s watching them, looking smug, flanked by Joey and Kyle. Kyle’s mouth is slightly open, and Joey’s eyebrows are so high that they could almost disappear into his curls. Neither of them look exactly upset, though, and it’s not until Andy rolls his eyes and says “I guess you guys don’t understand the meaning of the word ‘wait,’ I know it’s a big one” that Neal reluctantly pulls his hand out of David’s pants.
Dave collects himself, somewhat, and decides they all need drinks, that a toast is in order, so Neal gets the bottle of Jack that’s sitting by the coffeemaker, and Andy collects hotel glasses, and Dave pours five shots. He passes them out, and they all hold them up, and they all pretend not to notice how Dave almost cries when he thanks them.
Kyle’s the youngest of the group, still not quite twenty-one, and he’s drunker than the others, giggling at nothing as his hair falls in his face. Dave reaches for him and brushes his hair out of his eyes, then pulls him close, kissing him deeply, and Kyle melts into his touch, almost purring as he wraps his arms around Dave’s neck.
Andy mutters “so fucking hot” as he steps close, pulls Kyle’s hair back so he can watch them kiss. He licks at the exposed skin below the younger man’s ear and when Kyle murmurs approvingly, Andy moves closer still, hooks his fingers into the front pockets of Dave’s jeans so that Kyle is pressed tightly between the two of them.
Neal shudders, watching, and he turns to look at Joey - the way his eyes are glued to the other men, the sharp rise and fall of his chest. He licks his lips, touches Joey’s shoulder. When Joey turns toward him, Neal leans in and kisses him lightly, catches his lower lip gently between his teeth. Joey responds eagerly, opens his lips and lets Neal slip his tongue between them.
Joey moves closer, pressing against Neal, sucking on his tongue, and his straining cock nudges hard against Neal’s thigh through both of their jeans. As Neal reaches for his belt buckle, Joey breaks the kiss, not moving away, just whispering that he hasn’t really done much, just with Dave, and mostly they just made out, but he wants to do more, he’s ready for more, and he only stops talking when Neal pushes him gently onto the bed, yanks his pants down around his thighs, drops to his knees, and licks a long, wet stripe up Joey’s dick.
“Ohhhh,” Joey breathes, “okay.”
Neal’s never actually sucked dick before, but he’s gotten enough blowjobs in his life that he figures he gets the concept, and the sound Joey makes as Neal slides his lips slowly down the length of him tells him all he needs to know. It’s actually kind of hot, Neal thinks, the weight of Joey’s cock against his tongue, the warm salty-sweet taste when he laps at the tip.
Then suddenly Andy is next to him, stripped to just his boxers, dark-eyed and flushed and beautiful as he leans in, kisses Neal, flicks his tongue against Joey’s cock. Joey catches his breath, props himself up on his elbows to watch Neal and Andy trading deep slow kisses, their tongues tangling and thrumming together against his dick. And it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen, he thinks, made only hotter by Dave and Kyle still entwined a few feet away, by the soft pleasured sounds Kyle is making with Dave’s hand squeezing him through his boxers.
Dave finally pushes Kyle away gently, nudges him toward the others. Kyle moves eagerly behind Andy, dropping to his knees to run his hands over Andy’s bare chest, to trace his tongue along Andy’s shoulders, and the next time Andy dips his head to take Joey’s cock in his mouth, Dave grabs Neal’s arm and drags him to his feet, makes a needy sound as their mouths collide. He presses his tongue into Neal’s mouth, drags his teeth over the piercings in Neal’s lip, almost hard enough to hurt.
Neal pulls back slightly and traces his fingers over Dave’s lips, whispers “fuck yeah” as Dave opens his mouth and sucks two fingers in, swirls his tongue along them and in-between. He’s fumbling with the buttons of Neal’s shirt, sliding it off his shoulders. Dave grabs Neal’s wrist and pulls his fingers out of his mouth, runs his tongue up the length of each and then he’s pressing close, licking at Neal’s lips as he tugs Neal’s hand behind him, down low, and he’s undoing his own fly, letting his jeans slide down his hips as he guides Neal’s fingers toward his entrance.
Neal groans and shoves Dave onto the unoccupied bed, looks at him sprawled out there, and before Dave can so much as whimper Neal is beside him, sucking on his throat, enjoying the hiss that Dave makes as he presses one finger inside, then another. Dave yanks desperately at Neal’s belt buckle, and he works it open; he’s reaching for the zipper as he says “please, please, fuck, Neal, it’s been so long.”
Neal lets David tug off his jeans, lies back on the bed as David crawls over him, inhales sharply at the feel of all that skin, at the sensation of another cock pressed against his own. Dave is still insistent, kissing him wetly, hot breath against Neal’s ear, fuck me I want it I need it and it’s all Neal can do not to flip him over, to cover Dave’s body with his own and pin his wrists to the bed and fuck him until he’s shaking and incoherent, until he’s begging Neal to stop, but instead he grits his teeth - next time, he thinks - and pushes on Dave’s shoulders, waits for him to take the hint, whispers in his ear, “don’t worry, heartthrob, you’re getting fucked tonight.”
Dave kisses him hard, then, and even if everything’s changed, this is as good as it ever was - better - and Neal sighs as Dave slides down his body, settles between his thighs, licks hungrily around the head of Neal’s cock before he takes it into his mouth.
Neal looks over at the other bed, at Joey sprawled across it, his head thrown back. At Andy kneeling between Joey’s legs, sucking him slowly - Andy gives amazing head, Neal knows this, knows the way Andy can bring you just to the brink and then ease off, over and over, until you think you might explode, looking up with those wide, innocent eyes - and Kyle pressed against Andy, nipping at his shoulder, one hand on Andy’s dick and the other resting on Joey’s shaking thigh.
“Joey,” Neal says. “Get over here. Now.”
Joey just goes “huh?” but Andy’s known Neal for way too many years to ignore him when he uses that tone of voice, so he pulls his mouth off of Joey’s cock and glances over at Dave and Neal. He gets it almost immediately and nudges Joey hard, says “go” and Joey somehow stands up, and he sucks in a breath at the sight of Neal laid out on the bed with one arm tucked behind his head and the other hand resting at the base of Dave’s skull…and at the sight of Dave’s ass, pale and curved and bare and perfect, no more than three feet in front of him.
Joey’s eyes meet Neal’s and he opens his mouth, unsure, and Neal looks at him lazily, eyes glittering, and bites his lower lip, slowly lets his hips roll up as Dave tongues his cock.
“Fuck him,” Neal says. Dave whimpers at that, digs his nails into Neal’s thigh and Neal groans and grabs a handful of his hair.
Joey reaches for Dave cautiously, trails his fingers lightly over his hip. “Yeah?”
“Do it,” Neal grits out, “he likes it hard.”
He closes his eyes and drops his head back, hears Joey whisper “can I?” and then “hold on, let me find-” and then there’s the feel of his weight on the bed, of his knee bumping against Neal’s calf.
Neal opens his eyes when Dave moans around his dick, watches Joey gripping his friend’s hips, sinking in from behind, his eyes closed, biting his lip, the way his nails leave tiny dents in Dave’s skin. Neal knows what that’s like, remembers the feeling of pushing into that impossible tight heat, how Dave rolled his hips back to get that extra inch just when Neal thought there was no further to go. The way he didn’t just get fucked, but fucked back, how even as he trembled and cried out, he just wanted moremoremore.
Neal lets out a low growl, remembering, his hips jerking up, thrusting hard into Dave’s mouth, and then Andy is beside him, kissing him fiercely, biting at his lips and tugging Neal’s piercings between his teeth. He presses closer, his tongue slick against Neal’s, small needy sounds escaping between their mouths as Kyle fists Andy’s cock, licks at the back of his neck, presses his thin body close.
Andy whimpers and his mouth goes slack against Neal’s, and Neal pulls Andy’s head against his neck, runs his fingers through the smaller man’s hair as Kyle slowly pushes into Andy from behind, reaches out and grabs Kyle’s hip and pulls them both closer, the two of them spooned tightly against Neal’s side.
Neal shuts his eyes again, and just listens. Listens to Joey fucking into Dave, gasping, the sound of skin slapping against skin as he thrusts harder and faster, the small broken sounds that Dave makes. Listens to Kyle’s ragged breathing, to the soft moan Andy is stifling against Neal’s shoulder, to his own stuttered groans.
It sounds like some impossible discordant harmony, thrumming in his ears.
When Neal comes, all he can say is yes.
06. awake and unafraid.
It’s officially seven minutes until the album release.
Dave is pacing - again - and Andy is watching him - again - but this time when he goes “hey, Dave” it actually works, Dave goes “yeah?” and Andy says “stop.”
So he does. He stops, and he sits, and when Neal tells him it’s ok, everyone will love it, Dave half-jokes that he’ll be happy if everyone doesn’t hate it. Andy and Joey call him a drama queen in stereo, and then they high-five, and Dave can’t help but laugh. And then Kyle says “fuck it, let’s get out of here, I have an idea.”
So they go to the record store, of course. They see David Cook on display and they all geek out a bit, and take cellphone pictures, and they hug, all of them, and ignore the people staring at them open-mouthed from behind the counter.
Then Andy buys a copy of the album for Joey, and Joey buys it for Neal, and Kyle buys it for Andy, and Dave buys it for Kyle.
Neal buys a copy for Dave. And an extra for himself, “just in case,” he says with a shrug.
When they get back to the hotel, and Dave kisses Neal’s cheek and says thank you, they both know it’s not for anything tucked inside a shiny jewel case.