3o. | put words in my head
3o.
put words in my head
when they pour out to paper, it's all for you.
cook/archuleta(1293 words)
FOR BRITTS~ HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BB~ I LOVE YOU AND I HOPE THIS FUFILLS BOTH HALVES OF YOUR REQUEST~ ♥ (also I love this icon a lot, i want to use it FOREVER~~~)
Cook wakes up to the sun in his face and an arm around his waist and turns to smother his grin into his pillow before he even opens his eyes. He can hear birds chirping and David's soft hums of breath and everything -- it's so ridiculously perfect. No matter how many days he wakes up like this, he doesn't think he'll ever get used to the sensation of David's heart beating against his back, his fingers clenched in the hem of his shirt.
When David stirs Cook can feel it in the subtle shift of his body, in the hitch in his breathing, and he rolls over to David's sleepy eyes blinking.
"Morning," he says, wrinkling his nose when David yawns in his face.
"Morning," David says, yawning around the word again. "We have today off."
"We do," Cook says, fingers already twitching at the prospect. A full day of nothing but David. Awesome.
David smiles at him knowingly, eyes lowering so that he's regarding him through dark eyelashes. Cook can practically taste his smirk, when David's smile widens and he says happily, "We can go grocery shopping today!"
Cook is so disappointed that he actually drops his jaw and face plants into a pillow as David gets out of bed humming, headed for the shower.
And he thinks that maybe David is just teasing, but it turns out he's adamant and they really fucking are going shopping, what. They drive to a local supermarket wearing the usual celebrity caps and sunglasses, which don't help much; but the people here are good about giving them their space, and they enter the store without a hassle.
Truth be told, shopping with David is kind of fun. He gets excited over the silliest stuff ("Look, Cook, this coconut is so big! I don't know how to cut one, though...") and it's just another way to spend the day with the person he loves, so Cook's fine with it. The thing is, they've only been married for about three months now, and therefore it's inevitable that a camera will lean around the canned goods aisle merely ten minutes after they arrive.
Cook knows that he should be used to the paparazzi stalking them everywhere by now, but it doesn't help the annoyance when they fucking crawl behind grocery aisles and try to snap pictures of David leaning over cucumbers or whatever. Cook scowls in the photographer's direction and edges over to block his view; the guy just eagerly snaps the shot of Cook frowning at him, which makes Cook roll his eyes. Seriously, did the media have nothing better to do than watch two guys buy their groceries?
The paparazzo fades into the background after that when Cook continues to stare stonily at him, and Cook thinks that maybe (for once) he's managed to frighten the threat of a cover story away. David continues obliviously hunting for sales and bargains, exclaiming over the state of the bell peppers that have been just recently misted with water and asking Cook if he wants any apples. Cook's about to reply when he notices a flash between the shelves: what the actual fuck, the cameraman is watching them from the other aisle.
He ignores it, but the guy follows them all the way around the store, and Cook's annoyance builds to a steady anger until he's practically trembling with it. David notices something is wrong and touches his hand briefly (they're neither of them much on public displays of affection, especially right now) but Cook merely shakes his head and jerks it in the direction of the camera. David glances and his concern fades into blank recognition. He might still look like he was smiling if you didn't know how David's real smile looked, and it sort of hurt Cook to even see his face that way. Fucking -- couldn't they even have one day to themselves? One day where they weren't stalked for someone's paycheck?
They continue shopping, but it's subdued now and David's lost his enthusiasm for looking for new things for them to try -- it only makes Cook more irritated, that someone could rob David of his happiness so easily.
"Okay," David says, checking his list off for their last necessary item and setting it in the cart Cook is pushing, "I think we can -- oh!"
And David falters and jerks back as the camera pops around the corner suddenly and nearly hits him, making him fall backwards onto the ground to keep from running into it. The flash goes off belatedly as David hits the floor, letting out a soft "ouch," when his elbows collide with the linoleum.
Cook's vision goes red and his blood feels like it's fucking boiling and he's got his hand fisted in the paparazzo's shirt before he even knows what he's doing, fist pulled back and mouth twisted in a snarl. "You fucking bastard," Cook growls, and the guy's eyes widen and Cook's about to fucking nail this guy--
"Cook!" David says from the floor, standing up quickly and rushing to wrap his hand around Cook's fist, "Cook, come on, don't, I'm okay!" David's voice is full of worry, and it only soothes Cook a little to know that it's not for the photographer as much as it is that Cook would get in a shitload of trouble if he decked the paparazzi, especially over -- actually, fuck that, this guy knocked David to the fucking ground, he was going to get fucking punched.
"Cook!" David says, tightening his hand when he feels Cook pull back again, "Oh my gosh, Cook, come on, stop it! Seriously, Cook, let's just -- let's go home, okay? Please?" David won't let go and Cook relents a little, loosening his hand from the guy's shirt. He keeps him pinned with his glare though, and the way the guy's hands are shaking around his camera does a lot for his own nerves.
"Fucking watch it," Cook warns him, and he wants to fucking kill this guy, not just for hurting David but for ruining their day together, fuck, and David tugs on him, pulls him back to their cart; the paparazzo flees the building and David visibly sags in relief.
"Oh my gosh," he says, pressing a hand to his heart, "Oh my gosh, you almost got in a fight with him!" His eyes are wide and Cook forces himself to relax if only for David, who looks a little bewildered.
"Yeah, David," Cook tries to say calmly, "He fucking knocked you down. That shit is wrong and we could probably get him fired or something," which, hey, idea.
"Oh, no," David says, shaking his head, "It was an accident! It was, Cook, seriously, and I don't want -- um, I just want to go home?"
"Fine," Cook says, defeated, and this day is so ruined, he can't--
"Um, can we hurry?" David continues, looking a little edgy, and Cook blinks at him in confusion. "Um, I mean, you just -- that was, I. You were kind of." David cuts himself off and swallows hard, eyes darting from Cook to where he'd grabbed the paparazzo and back. "I'm sort of--"
And it takes Cook a second (he's still fucking ticked off and his thought processes are slower) but it hits him and he wants to fucking laugh. Who would've thought that David Archuleta got turned on by -- it wasn't even an actual fight, even, just the threat of one. Not that Cook's complaining, at all, especially when David's eyes glaze over as he wraps his hand around the back of his neck and squeezes a little.
"Alright," Cook says, pitching his voice low and delighting in David's shiver, "let's go home."
put words in my head
when they pour out to paper, it's all for you.
cook/archuleta(1293 words)
FOR BRITTS~ HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BB~ I LOVE YOU AND I HOPE THIS FUFILLS BOTH HALVES OF YOUR REQUEST~ ♥ (also I love this icon a lot, i want to use it FOREVER~~~)
Cook wakes up to the sun in his face and an arm around his waist and turns to smother his grin into his pillow before he even opens his eyes. He can hear birds chirping and David's soft hums of breath and everything -- it's so ridiculously perfect. No matter how many days he wakes up like this, he doesn't think he'll ever get used to the sensation of David's heart beating against his back, his fingers clenched in the hem of his shirt.
When David stirs Cook can feel it in the subtle shift of his body, in the hitch in his breathing, and he rolls over to David's sleepy eyes blinking.
"Morning," he says, wrinkling his nose when David yawns in his face.
"Morning," David says, yawning around the word again. "We have today off."
"We do," Cook says, fingers already twitching at the prospect. A full day of nothing but David. Awesome.
David smiles at him knowingly, eyes lowering so that he's regarding him through dark eyelashes. Cook can practically taste his smirk, when David's smile widens and he says happily, "We can go grocery shopping today!"
Cook is so disappointed that he actually drops his jaw and face plants into a pillow as David gets out of bed humming, headed for the shower.
And he thinks that maybe David is just teasing, but it turns out he's adamant and they really fucking are going shopping, what. They drive to a local supermarket wearing the usual celebrity caps and sunglasses, which don't help much; but the people here are good about giving them their space, and they enter the store without a hassle.
Truth be told, shopping with David is kind of fun. He gets excited over the silliest stuff ("Look, Cook, this coconut is so big! I don't know how to cut one, though...") and it's just another way to spend the day with the person he loves, so Cook's fine with it. The thing is, they've only been married for about three months now, and therefore it's inevitable that a camera will lean around the canned goods aisle merely ten minutes after they arrive.
Cook knows that he should be used to the paparazzi stalking them everywhere by now, but it doesn't help the annoyance when they fucking crawl behind grocery aisles and try to snap pictures of David leaning over cucumbers or whatever. Cook scowls in the photographer's direction and edges over to block his view; the guy just eagerly snaps the shot of Cook frowning at him, which makes Cook roll his eyes. Seriously, did the media have nothing better to do than watch two guys buy their groceries?
The paparazzo fades into the background after that when Cook continues to stare stonily at him, and Cook thinks that maybe (for once) he's managed to frighten the threat of a cover story away. David continues obliviously hunting for sales and bargains, exclaiming over the state of the bell peppers that have been just recently misted with water and asking Cook if he wants any apples. Cook's about to reply when he notices a flash between the shelves: what the actual fuck, the cameraman is watching them from the other aisle.
He ignores it, but the guy follows them all the way around the store, and Cook's annoyance builds to a steady anger until he's practically trembling with it. David notices something is wrong and touches his hand briefly (they're neither of them much on public displays of affection, especially right now) but Cook merely shakes his head and jerks it in the direction of the camera. David glances and his concern fades into blank recognition. He might still look like he was smiling if you didn't know how David's real smile looked, and it sort of hurt Cook to even see his face that way. Fucking -- couldn't they even have one day to themselves? One day where they weren't stalked for someone's paycheck?
They continue shopping, but it's subdued now and David's lost his enthusiasm for looking for new things for them to try -- it only makes Cook more irritated, that someone could rob David of his happiness so easily.
"Okay," David says, checking his list off for their last necessary item and setting it in the cart Cook is pushing, "I think we can -- oh!"
And David falters and jerks back as the camera pops around the corner suddenly and nearly hits him, making him fall backwards onto the ground to keep from running into it. The flash goes off belatedly as David hits the floor, letting out a soft "ouch," when his elbows collide with the linoleum.
Cook's vision goes red and his blood feels like it's fucking boiling and he's got his hand fisted in the paparazzo's shirt before he even knows what he's doing, fist pulled back and mouth twisted in a snarl. "You fucking bastard," Cook growls, and the guy's eyes widen and Cook's about to fucking nail this guy--
"Cook!" David says from the floor, standing up quickly and rushing to wrap his hand around Cook's fist, "Cook, come on, don't, I'm okay!" David's voice is full of worry, and it only soothes Cook a little to know that it's not for the photographer as much as it is that Cook would get in a shitload of trouble if he decked the paparazzi, especially over -- actually, fuck that, this guy knocked David to the fucking ground, he was going to get fucking punched.
"Cook!" David says, tightening his hand when he feels Cook pull back again, "Oh my gosh, Cook, come on, stop it! Seriously, Cook, let's just -- let's go home, okay? Please?" David won't let go and Cook relents a little, loosening his hand from the guy's shirt. He keeps him pinned with his glare though, and the way the guy's hands are shaking around his camera does a lot for his own nerves.
"Fucking watch it," Cook warns him, and he wants to fucking kill this guy, not just for hurting David but for ruining their day together, fuck, and David tugs on him, pulls him back to their cart; the paparazzo flees the building and David visibly sags in relief.
"Oh my gosh," he says, pressing a hand to his heart, "Oh my gosh, you almost got in a fight with him!" His eyes are wide and Cook forces himself to relax if only for David, who looks a little bewildered.
"Yeah, David," Cook tries to say calmly, "He fucking knocked you down. That shit is wrong and we could probably get him fired or something," which, hey, idea.
"Oh, no," David says, shaking his head, "It was an accident! It was, Cook, seriously, and I don't want -- um, I just want to go home?"
"Fine," Cook says, defeated, and this day is so ruined, he can't--
"Um, can we hurry?" David continues, looking a little edgy, and Cook blinks at him in confusion. "Um, I mean, you just -- that was, I. You were kind of." David cuts himself off and swallows hard, eyes darting from Cook to where he'd grabbed the paparazzo and back. "I'm sort of--"
And it takes Cook a second (he's still fucking ticked off and his thought processes are slower) but it hits him and he wants to fucking laugh. Who would've thought that David Archuleta got turned on by -- it wasn't even an actual fight, even, just the threat of one. Not that Cook's complaining, at all, especially when David's eyes glaze over as he wraps his hand around the back of his neck and squeezes a little.
"Alright," Cook says, pitching his voice low and delighting in David's shiver, "let's go home."