D. Archuleta/D. Cook, charity!fic
(AI7) DAVID ARCHULETA/DAVID COOK
Rating: PG13
Pairing: David Archuleta/David Cook
Fandom: American Idol (real person slash)
Warnings: slash, real person slash, au
Disclaimer: I do not own these people because they own themselves. I want an Archie of my own, though. Badly.
A/N: This is the first in a bunch of drabbles + one full length epic story for koishii_hime after she kindly donated money for the Haiti cause. Sorry it took me so long, BB, and that I've only done one for now. RL is kicking my butt so in return, I made it especially long (for a drabble).
-
it has something to do with the sand, archie thinks. of sinking his toes into the warm, damp grit and wriggling them until he’ll be laughing so hard at the ticklish sensation. or the feel of the sun burning his exposed skin, turning it red and tender, until he’ll be cringing at every chafing movement. he’s felt the sun here, of course, but it has to be different with the smell of salt in the air.
archie wants to go to the the beach and plunge into the sea. he wants to be buried under the sand and left there, forgotten. he wants to lather lotion on his skin until he feels sticky all over. he wants to get a tan. most of all, he wants to see the sparkling blue, the ribbons of green, the expanse of yellow, and the rainbow colors of swimsuits, umbrellas and beach balls.
it’s a whimsical wish until cook gently pushes him into the car and pops in a mixed cd in the player. ‘cook, what’s, why are you - ’
archie can hear the amusement in the older man’s voice as he says, ‘trust me, arch,’ and really, that shouldn’t settle things but it does. it’s frightening, at times, how much archie trusts cook.
the drive seems to take forever. archie tries asking in a roundabout way where they’re headed but cook merely laughs them off in easy confidence, as if he already knows archie is going to love it. and archie will, completely, but he just likes to know these things; make things less unpredictable. archie’s entire life has been structured around stability and routine and he gets flustered whenever it's interrupted by something he isn’t used to.
cook, though, well, cook likes to shock archie. unpredictable visits, unexpected trips to new places, and now the nicest kidnapping in the history of mankind. cook likes to laugh with his whole body (archie’s felt him) and kisses with dizzying abandon. he whispers embarrassing things into archie’s ear and has more than once blindfolded himself when they made love.
it’s, archie can’t describe cook; he’s not sure the english language has enough words.
it soon becomes clear where they’re headed, though.
the air turns heavy, salty, and archie can hear the distinct cry of seagulls.
‘oh my gosh,’ archie gasps and inclines his head to listen better. there, the faint sound of waves breaking on the shore. ‘cook - ’
‘not yet,’ cook says and his voice is impossibly tender.
archie’s fingers find his seatbelt and curl around the strap tightly. he’s trying to be calm, really, but cook has brought him here and he’s kind of (really pleased) freaking out.
there’s a reason he doesn’t come here.
the noises are louder (waves, chatter, children, sand crunching) and archie closes his eyes even if it makes no difference when he has them open. there’s still only darkness.
the car stops eventually and cook pauses the music. archie hears him shifting and feels the flutter of cook’s clothes as cook inches closer.
‘i wanted to bring you here,’ cook confesses in a light tone. ‘i know you want to be here, arch. i know.’
archie licks his lips. ‘i - cook, you don’t have to - ’
‘i already did, am,’ cook interrupts with a touch to archie’s arm. ‘people won’t care, david. they won’t drive you away from the beach because you’re blind.’
archie flinches a little bit. it’s not, it’s, cook doesn’t get it.
the older man’s voice is mystified. ‘archie?’
‘i’m not ashamed,’ archie says in a rushed, if quiet, voice. he licks his lips again and opens his eyes, turning them uselessly towards cook. ‘i don’t care if, i don’t care. it’s just, they’ll see you and um, i don’t, they’ll think you’re, you’re - ’
‘david archuleta, if you’re worried for my sake, then i am going to hit you,’ cook states incredulously and archie knows he’s just kidding, haha, because cook didn’t even hit dublin when she’d chewed his favorite shirt to pieces.
still, archie flushes in mortification. ‘um, i’m sorry?’
the chuckle that comes is partly disbelieving, partly adoring. ‘you’re such a dork, archie, honestly. is that the reason why you’ve never been to the beach? you are so cute.’
archie feels a little defensive. ‘hey, my fears are, like, valid, you know.’
‘come here,’ cook says and grabs a fistful of archie’s shirt, drawing him closer. immediately the heat rises at their close proximity. ‘you don’t have to worry about that, archie. i’m not - and by me, i mean all of us, your family and friends - and never will be ashamed of you. you’re perfect.’
archie feels like passing out from heat stroke; his face is burning. ‘that’s not true.’
‘yes, it is,’ cook answers patiently and pecks him on the lips. ‘now let’s go. the ocean beckons.’
they unbuckle their seatbelts and leave the car (archie slower than cook) and doesn’t protest when the older man takes his hand. they leave their shoes somewhere and pad, barefoot, on the sand.
it makes archie’s breath catch. it tickles even more than archie expects.
‘all right?’
here’s the sand, and the sun, and a tan (hopefully), and the salty taste, and the colors i’ll only hear, archie thinks as he wriggles his toes. and there’s cook too.
archie takes a deep breath and tastes the sea. ‘yeah.’
-
the end
Rating: PG13
Pairing: David Archuleta/David Cook
Fandom: American Idol (real person slash)
Warnings: slash, real person slash, au
Disclaimer: I do not own these people because they own themselves. I want an Archie of my own, though. Badly.
A/N: This is the first in a bunch of drabbles + one full length epic story for koishii_hime after she kindly donated money for the Haiti cause. Sorry it took me so long, BB, and that I've only done one for now. RL is kicking my butt so in return, I made it especially long (for a drabble).
-
it has something to do with the sand, archie thinks. of sinking his toes into the warm, damp grit and wriggling them until he’ll be laughing so hard at the ticklish sensation. or the feel of the sun burning his exposed skin, turning it red and tender, until he’ll be cringing at every chafing movement. he’s felt the sun here, of course, but it has to be different with the smell of salt in the air.
archie wants to go to the the beach and plunge into the sea. he wants to be buried under the sand and left there, forgotten. he wants to lather lotion on his skin until he feels sticky all over. he wants to get a tan. most of all, he wants to see the sparkling blue, the ribbons of green, the expanse of yellow, and the rainbow colors of swimsuits, umbrellas and beach balls.
it’s a whimsical wish until cook gently pushes him into the car and pops in a mixed cd in the player. ‘cook, what’s, why are you - ’
archie can hear the amusement in the older man’s voice as he says, ‘trust me, arch,’ and really, that shouldn’t settle things but it does. it’s frightening, at times, how much archie trusts cook.
the drive seems to take forever. archie tries asking in a roundabout way where they’re headed but cook merely laughs them off in easy confidence, as if he already knows archie is going to love it. and archie will, completely, but he just likes to know these things; make things less unpredictable. archie’s entire life has been structured around stability and routine and he gets flustered whenever it's interrupted by something he isn’t used to.
cook, though, well, cook likes to shock archie. unpredictable visits, unexpected trips to new places, and now the nicest kidnapping in the history of mankind. cook likes to laugh with his whole body (archie’s felt him) and kisses with dizzying abandon. he whispers embarrassing things into archie’s ear and has more than once blindfolded himself when they made love.
it’s, archie can’t describe cook; he’s not sure the english language has enough words.
it soon becomes clear where they’re headed, though.
the air turns heavy, salty, and archie can hear the distinct cry of seagulls.
‘oh my gosh,’ archie gasps and inclines his head to listen better. there, the faint sound of waves breaking on the shore. ‘cook - ’
‘not yet,’ cook says and his voice is impossibly tender.
archie’s fingers find his seatbelt and curl around the strap tightly. he’s trying to be calm, really, but cook has brought him here and he’s kind of (really pleased) freaking out.
there’s a reason he doesn’t come here.
the noises are louder (waves, chatter, children, sand crunching) and archie closes his eyes even if it makes no difference when he has them open. there’s still only darkness.
the car stops eventually and cook pauses the music. archie hears him shifting and feels the flutter of cook’s clothes as cook inches closer.
‘i wanted to bring you here,’ cook confesses in a light tone. ‘i know you want to be here, arch. i know.’
archie licks his lips. ‘i - cook, you don’t have to - ’
‘i already did, am,’ cook interrupts with a touch to archie’s arm. ‘people won’t care, david. they won’t drive you away from the beach because you’re blind.’
archie flinches a little bit. it’s not, it’s, cook doesn’t get it.
the older man’s voice is mystified. ‘archie?’
‘i’m not ashamed,’ archie says in a rushed, if quiet, voice. he licks his lips again and opens his eyes, turning them uselessly towards cook. ‘i don’t care if, i don’t care. it’s just, they’ll see you and um, i don’t, they’ll think you’re, you’re - ’
‘david archuleta, if you’re worried for my sake, then i am going to hit you,’ cook states incredulously and archie knows he’s just kidding, haha, because cook didn’t even hit dublin when she’d chewed his favorite shirt to pieces.
still, archie flushes in mortification. ‘um, i’m sorry?’
the chuckle that comes is partly disbelieving, partly adoring. ‘you’re such a dork, archie, honestly. is that the reason why you’ve never been to the beach? you are so cute.’
archie feels a little defensive. ‘hey, my fears are, like, valid, you know.’
‘come here,’ cook says and grabs a fistful of archie’s shirt, drawing him closer. immediately the heat rises at their close proximity. ‘you don’t have to worry about that, archie. i’m not - and by me, i mean all of us, your family and friends - and never will be ashamed of you. you’re perfect.’
archie feels like passing out from heat stroke; his face is burning. ‘that’s not true.’
‘yes, it is,’ cook answers patiently and pecks him on the lips. ‘now let’s go. the ocean beckons.’
they unbuckle their seatbelts and leave the car (archie slower than cook) and doesn’t protest when the older man takes his hand. they leave their shoes somewhere and pad, barefoot, on the sand.
it makes archie’s breath catch. it tickles even more than archie expects.
‘all right?’
here’s the sand, and the sun, and a tan (hopefully), and the salty taste, and the colors i’ll only hear, archie thinks as he wriggles his toes. and there’s cook too.
archie takes a deep breath and tastes the sea. ‘yeah.’
-
the end