D. Archuleta/D. Cook, now in flesh appearing
(AI7) DAVID ARCHULETA/DAVID COOK
Rating: PG13
Pairing: David Archuleta/David Cook
Fandom: American Idol (real person slash)
Warnings: slash, real person slash, descriptions of an explicit nature
Disclaimer: I do not own these people because they own themselves. I want an Archie of my own, though. Badly.
A/N: Hurray, I can finally post one of my Christmas fics (two more to go). This was done for the Christmas From The Heart Fic Challenge by the lovely mellowdee . The song I chose was O COME ALL YE FAITHFUL and well, here it is.
By: writingpickle
-
now in flesh appearing
-
Do you want to know something?
Before the night we met, I’ve known you for nearly half of my life. Fuck (sorry), that sounds weird but it’s also true.
Didn’t you ever wonder why a grown man would suddenly stop in his tracks and stare at you as if you’ve suddenly materialized out of his very dreams? Well, let me tell you: that was exactly my reason. I’d been dreaming of you since I was twenty and fell in love with you a year after that. Then four years later, on my twenty-sixth birthday, I finally met you.
It’s kind of like that song, isn’t it? I knew I loved you before I met you and god, doesn’t that sound cheesy.
Should I start at the beginning? I should, I imagine you’re confused enough as it is (I know you have that little wrinkle between your brows, the one I love to kiss when you get perturbed by something).
I’m not even sure if I did anything to cause it, if I somehow snubbed a wandering beggar who happened to be Fate or Destiny in disguise and made him cast this spell over me.
It was after a night of heavy drinking when it first happened. I collapsed on my bed, drunk and absolutely dead to the outside world.
Then I started dreaming.
I was lying on a king-sized bed, in front of a huge fireplace (and by this time, I guess I realized it was a dream because I was certain my crappy dorm room neither had a king-sized bed nor a fireplace), and there was a boy tucked into my side. As if it was natural, the easiest thing in the world (it is, always has been), I turned to my companion and kissed his bare shoulder. He stirred and I coaxed him awake, dragging my lips to the middle of his shoulder blades. His skin was soft and smooth and warm (perfect for me to sink my teeth into, or for my tongue to lick, and baby, I know you’re making that face so stop it, this isn’t going to be porn) and my hands ran over the whole expanse of it, what seemed like miles and miles, until he finally turned his head.
I saw his face, your face, and thought can anything this beautiful even be real?
(The answer is yes, it is real, because here you are.)
I didn’t actually remember the dream the next day. Instead, I was left with the impression of home, love, warmth, rightness that lingered for a long time. It was only after the fifth dream that I started recalling bits and pieces, actual images of your eyes (luminous), your lips (lush), your hands (steady), your smile (god).
I thought I was going crazy. It was either that or my overactive imagination, which still meant I was partly psychotic. Was this a hallucination? An effect of my excessive drinking? I didn’t know and as time passed, I stopped caring. Neal thought it was hilarious, that David Fucking (sorry) Cook was hooked on a guy in his dreams. Of course, he stopped finding it hilarious when I started believing you were real, that you were somewhere out there, and did this stupid intervention with Andy when I was unable to let go of the boy who visited me a few times a month.
I had a few relationships throughout the years, as you know, but they had always lacked that sentiment, that emotion, I felt when I closed my eyes and tumbled into a world where you were real, where we existed.
Maybe, in the deepest corner of my heart, I had thought you were really just a figment of my imagination. A representation, if you want, of everything I wanted to find and love. I had lived with you in my head for six years, haunting my dreams with your smile and laugh and sweet, sweet mouth. We never talked, we never moved from that bed and fireplace, but I knew that you were good and kind and bright and someone I would never get to hold when awake.
But you were in my dreams and even that was amazing enough.
Then one night, on a night much like this one where the snow was falling earnestly like tears, I was walking home from work. I was bundled up in my favorite coat, hands warm in their mittens, head jammed into an ugly hat knitted by my mom which I love. I knew that Andy was hosting a surprise party at my apartment, which Neal had let slip a couple of weeks ago (never trust him with your secrets).
I took my time despite the cold, walking through the park and admiring the lights that trailed on the frosted trees.
For some reason, my blood was humming through my veins. I was excited for the party, sure, but there was also something else. Maybe I was going to see you in my dreams later, after the well wishes and cake, the perfect birthday gift.
I started hearing music, soft and light, like the snow that melted on my face. I recognized a few carols and started humming under my breath, drawing closer to the three or four people standing under a cluster of brightly-lit trees. They were surrounded by lovers holding hands, families on a late night visit.
O come all ye faithful
Joyful and triumphant
O come ye, o come ye to Bethlehem
I stopped to listen, just for a few minutes, and saw you.
Snow fell around you, dusting your ski-capped head, and the twinkling bulbs overhead cast light and shadows on your face, your face that has haunted my dreams for the longest time, your face, your face, your face.
I stood there, staring at you until you finished the song. My phone vibrated in my pocket but I ignored it. You laughed at something your friend said and the sound carried to my ears, exactly the same music in my dreams.
Soon, the other people went on their way and I was left there, still staring. You noticed me, glanced at me, and I’m pretty sure you were blushing the whole time. I wanted so badly to reach out and touch you, to feel your skin, warm and flushed with life.
I wanted you.
Maybe it was magic, or destiny, or simply our love impatient with us for taking too long. Whatever it was, it…no, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me.
Remember when you told me your name? (maybe it was our names that made me dream of you, that fated us together, as if we were the only two Davids that ever mattered)
Remember our first date? (a night at the boardwalk, light glimmering on the water)
Remember our first kiss? (the lightest brush of lips under the mistletoe in January, when Neal had forgotten to take down the one in the hallway)
Remember our first time making love? (impatient, hot, greedy and fading to something so gentle it brought tears to my eyes)
Remember our first time waking up together? (the sun in your eyes, our bodies tangled hopelessly)
Remember when I met your family? (your dad sizing me up, your mom fussing over us, your siblings taking turns questioning me)
Remember when you met my family? (my mom loving you on sight, Andrew suspicious until you won him over with your singing)
Remember the first time I said I love you and you whispered it back? (in bed, trying to watch the most boring movie I’ve ever seen and the words just came out, like a reflex, when I kissed the top of your head. Then you turned, eyes wide, and hugged me so tight. I didn’t need to hear the words because I felt them in my heart)
Remember when I asked you to marry me? (a year after we met, seven years after I started dreaming of you, a ring on your left finger that you found when you woke up on what was supposed to be an ordinary Sunday morning)
All these memories, David, stamped on my skin, my heart, my soul.
I love you even more with each passing day simply because I don’t know how not to.
I will never learn how.
Come home soon because I want to see your face when you read this.
Come home soon because I want to kiss you.
Always, Your David
-
End
Rating: PG13
Pairing: David Archuleta/David Cook
Fandom: American Idol (real person slash)
Warnings: slash, real person slash, descriptions of an explicit nature
Disclaimer: I do not own these people because they own themselves. I want an Archie of my own, though. Badly.
A/N: Hurray, I can finally post one of my Christmas fics (two more to go). This was done for the Christmas From The Heart Fic Challenge by the lovely mellowdee . The song I chose was O COME ALL YE FAITHFUL and well, here it is.
By: writingpickle
-
now in flesh appearing
-
Do you want to know something?
Before the night we met, I’ve known you for nearly half of my life. Fuck (sorry), that sounds weird but it’s also true.
Didn’t you ever wonder why a grown man would suddenly stop in his tracks and stare at you as if you’ve suddenly materialized out of his very dreams? Well, let me tell you: that was exactly my reason. I’d been dreaming of you since I was twenty and fell in love with you a year after that. Then four years later, on my twenty-sixth birthday, I finally met you.
It’s kind of like that song, isn’t it? I knew I loved you before I met you and god, doesn’t that sound cheesy.
Should I start at the beginning? I should, I imagine you’re confused enough as it is (I know you have that little wrinkle between your brows, the one I love to kiss when you get perturbed by something).
I’m not even sure if I did anything to cause it, if I somehow snubbed a wandering beggar who happened to be Fate or Destiny in disguise and made him cast this spell over me.
It was after a night of heavy drinking when it first happened. I collapsed on my bed, drunk and absolutely dead to the outside world.
Then I started dreaming.
I was lying on a king-sized bed, in front of a huge fireplace (and by this time, I guess I realized it was a dream because I was certain my crappy dorm room neither had a king-sized bed nor a fireplace), and there was a boy tucked into my side. As if it was natural, the easiest thing in the world (it is, always has been), I turned to my companion and kissed his bare shoulder. He stirred and I coaxed him awake, dragging my lips to the middle of his shoulder blades. His skin was soft and smooth and warm (perfect for me to sink my teeth into, or for my tongue to lick, and baby, I know you’re making that face so stop it, this isn’t going to be porn) and my hands ran over the whole expanse of it, what seemed like miles and miles, until he finally turned his head.
I saw his face, your face, and thought can anything this beautiful even be real?
(The answer is yes, it is real, because here you are.)
I didn’t actually remember the dream the next day. Instead, I was left with the impression of home, love, warmth, rightness that lingered for a long time. It was only after the fifth dream that I started recalling bits and pieces, actual images of your eyes (luminous), your lips (lush), your hands (steady), your smile (god).
I thought I was going crazy. It was either that or my overactive imagination, which still meant I was partly psychotic. Was this a hallucination? An effect of my excessive drinking? I didn’t know and as time passed, I stopped caring. Neal thought it was hilarious, that David Fucking (sorry) Cook was hooked on a guy in his dreams. Of course, he stopped finding it hilarious when I started believing you were real, that you were somewhere out there, and did this stupid intervention with Andy when I was unable to let go of the boy who visited me a few times a month.
I had a few relationships throughout the years, as you know, but they had always lacked that sentiment, that emotion, I felt when I closed my eyes and tumbled into a world where you were real, where we existed.
Maybe, in the deepest corner of my heart, I had thought you were really just a figment of my imagination. A representation, if you want, of everything I wanted to find and love. I had lived with you in my head for six years, haunting my dreams with your smile and laugh and sweet, sweet mouth. We never talked, we never moved from that bed and fireplace, but I knew that you were good and kind and bright and someone I would never get to hold when awake.
But you were in my dreams and even that was amazing enough.
Then one night, on a night much like this one where the snow was falling earnestly like tears, I was walking home from work. I was bundled up in my favorite coat, hands warm in their mittens, head jammed into an ugly hat knitted by my mom which I love. I knew that Andy was hosting a surprise party at my apartment, which Neal had let slip a couple of weeks ago (never trust him with your secrets).
I took my time despite the cold, walking through the park and admiring the lights that trailed on the frosted trees.
For some reason, my blood was humming through my veins. I was excited for the party, sure, but there was also something else. Maybe I was going to see you in my dreams later, after the well wishes and cake, the perfect birthday gift.
I started hearing music, soft and light, like the snow that melted on my face. I recognized a few carols and started humming under my breath, drawing closer to the three or four people standing under a cluster of brightly-lit trees. They were surrounded by lovers holding hands, families on a late night visit.
O come all ye faithful
Joyful and triumphant
O come ye, o come ye to Bethlehem
I stopped to listen, just for a few minutes, and saw you.
Snow fell around you, dusting your ski-capped head, and the twinkling bulbs overhead cast light and shadows on your face, your face that has haunted my dreams for the longest time, your face, your face, your face.
I stood there, staring at you until you finished the song. My phone vibrated in my pocket but I ignored it. You laughed at something your friend said and the sound carried to my ears, exactly the same music in my dreams.
Soon, the other people went on their way and I was left there, still staring. You noticed me, glanced at me, and I’m pretty sure you were blushing the whole time. I wanted so badly to reach out and touch you, to feel your skin, warm and flushed with life.
I wanted you.
Maybe it was magic, or destiny, or simply our love impatient with us for taking too long. Whatever it was, it…no, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me.
Remember when you told me your name? (maybe it was our names that made me dream of you, that fated us together, as if we were the only two Davids that ever mattered)
Remember our first date? (a night at the boardwalk, light glimmering on the water)
Remember our first kiss? (the lightest brush of lips under the mistletoe in January, when Neal had forgotten to take down the one in the hallway)
Remember our first time making love? (impatient, hot, greedy and fading to something so gentle it brought tears to my eyes)
Remember our first time waking up together? (the sun in your eyes, our bodies tangled hopelessly)
Remember when I met your family? (your dad sizing me up, your mom fussing over us, your siblings taking turns questioning me)
Remember when you met my family? (my mom loving you on sight, Andrew suspicious until you won him over with your singing)
Remember the first time I said I love you and you whispered it back? (in bed, trying to watch the most boring movie I’ve ever seen and the words just came out, like a reflex, when I kissed the top of your head. Then you turned, eyes wide, and hugged me so tight. I didn’t need to hear the words because I felt them in my heart)
Remember when I asked you to marry me? (a year after we met, seven years after I started dreaming of you, a ring on your left finger that you found when you woke up on what was supposed to be an ordinary Sunday morning)
All these memories, David, stamped on my skin, my heart, my soul.
I love you even more with each passing day simply because I don’t know how not to.
I will never learn how.
Come home soon because I want to see your face when you read this.
Come home soon because I want to kiss you.
Always, Your David
-
End