'Better Late Than Never' [David Archuleta/David Cook]
Title: 'Better Late Than Never'
Author: that_1_incident
Fandom: American Idol
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Profanity
Pairing: David Archuleta/David Cook (with some David Cook/Kimberly Caldwell, but nothing gross um, explicit)
Word Count: ~1,300
Summary: David might have got over everything quicker if Cook didn’t insist on talking about her every five seconds.
Disclaimer: Ugh, the Davids are too awesome to be owned. They own. Also, ewww, the first part of this, with Cook asking Kimberly out on live TV, it... ugh, it actually happened. Don't make me link to it.
Author's Notes: (Sort of) an answer to epicflailer's request for "Archie thwarting all of 19E's attempts to hook Cook up with girls (whether accidentally or on purpose)" as part of the Cookleta fic train at cookleta. The thread begins here. I say "sort of an answer" because there's only one girl and Cook kind of did a lot of it himself, but. She seemed to be happy with it, so that's what matters! Incidentally, epicflailer is... she is so awesome, you guys. She writes Archie ridiculously well. I actually asked her if she was him in disguise a few days ago.
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“And so I’m actually going to ask you out to dinner right now,” Cook says in this goofy voice, and to most people his tone would sound completely casual but David knows him well enough to tell he’s nervous and overcompensating. “That’s what I’m gonna do.”
David beams reflexively as Kimberly squeals her affirmative and sort of um, launches herself into Cook’s arms. It’s one of the stretched, awkward grins that Cook told him to tone down a bit because they look a little forced but really, it’s the best he can do considering the present situation. He doesn’t have room for feelings right now, so he just focuses on whatever Justin’s saying and laughs at the end of it.
--
David might have got over everything quicker if Cook didn’t insist on talking about her every five seconds. Their schedules are insane now that Idol’s over, with TV show hosts and newspaper reporters clamoring to talk to both of them (which David doesn’t understand because, hi, Cook’s the American Idol, and his voice is way better and he’s a lot more attractive and totally a lot more coherent, gosh). But, yeah, for whatever reason they end up doing a lot of press together, meaning David’s often around when Cook calls her in between interviews and acts all coy about their relationship on “The View” (“There is somebody, yes.” “Is she here?” “She is not here.” “Where is she?” “Somewhere else.”) Like, really… enough is enough. It’s not as if David would actually ever say something about it to Cook because, gosh, that’s rude, but sometimes he really, really wants to.
“You okay, Arch?” Cook asks. They’re backstage after their appearance on… something. David doesn’t usually remember the names of the shows themselves, preferring to associate them with mental pictures of their hosts (“the lady they always show in really soft lighting to hide her wrinkles,” for example, whose actual name is Barbara Walters).
Cook’s passing it off like a casual inquiry, something he suddenly thought of saying for no apparent reason a couple of seconds before. David almost finds it funny that Cook expects him to believe this is spontaneous considering the other man’s been shooting him surreptitious looks of concern all day, like he knows something’s wrong but can’t quite put his finger on what it is, but, whatever, he’ll play along.
“I’m fine,” David says lightly, meeting Cook’s eyes for a second before glancing away. He figures a brief assurance will suffice - especially in light of the fact that they don’t have any other engagements for a couple of hours, giving Cook the ideal opportunity to go off and blab to Kimberly - but Cook surprises him.
“Come on,” Cook says, cocking his head quite adorably to the right and making this face that’s like, dude, you really expect me to believe that? “What’s bothering you?” David shakes his head and Cook says more firmly, “Out with it.”
David sighs. When Cook gets like this, there’s no avoiding the question. “I might be, um, a little - well, no, okay, it’s stupid because she’s your girlfriend and it’s so okay that you want to talk to her, it’s totally fine and normal and stuff, and… and having a girlf- um, a… being in a relationship is so nice and everything, so I really don’t - well, I imagine it would be, you know, because I haven’t, um… yeah.”
The corners of Cook’s lips twitch like he’s trying not to laugh. “David Archuleta, are you jealous?”
David feels a hot, red flush creeping slowly up his neck. “Gosh, no. No, absolutely not, Cook, I would never -”
“You are,” Cook marvels, amazed, and his eyes sparkle with amusement which kind of, oh gosh, somehow makes him even hotter. David swallows hard and tells himself to stop being ridiculous just as this flash of realization passes over Cook’s face and he says incredulously, “Do you… Archie, do you have a crush on me?”
“What?” David sputters in his best oh my gosh, of course not voice, but he feels his cheeks start to burn their betrayal and gets a sinking feeling in his stomach. He’s expecting Cook to crack up, double over laughing and slap his thigh like he does, maybe make some joke about Mormons and cradle snatchers and burning in hell which… okay, maybe this whole thing is funny in some alternate universe where David can laugh at the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened in his life to date - maybe.
Cook doesn’t do any of those things, though. His eyes widen a lot and his mouth sort of falls open for a second before he realizes and closes it, but the only thing he says is “Are you kidding?” really quietly.
“I’m not,” David says stiffly, hating the blazing blush that’s giving him away and wishing fervently that he’d taken his father up on the offer to go back to the hotel for some downtime instead of electing to hang out with Cook.
“Arch, is this what…” (Cook sort of waves his hand between them - he’s smiling a little bit now and David doesn’t know why, which makes him nervous) “Is this what all this has been about? You being so… off recently? Is it because you’re jealous of Kim?”
David shuffles his feet.
“Oh my God, I thought it was because I got more votes than you.”
David’s head snaps up. “What?! No! Cook, I don’t care that you won, I wanted you to win, I think you’re amazing, you really deser-” He stops, realizes he’s incriminated himself, and bites his lip. “Oh, gosh.”
“Jesus, kid,” Cook says sort of roughly, and David’s about to object to that because he’s almost eighteen, thank you very much, when Cook lifts his hand and runs a callused thumb over David’s cheekbone.
David lets out what can only be described as a strangled, breathless squawk, and Cook shakes his head.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Um, I.” David’s skin feels like it’s on fire underneath Cook’s touch, and he can barely meet the other man’s eyes until Cook takes his hand away. “I just did?”
“Yeah, you’re fucking… you’re way overdue, you complete dumbass, what the fuck?”
And, wait, David’s all confused now because it sounds like Cook actually - but, no, he… that can’t be. “You, um. You like girls, though?” he says uncertainly because despite suffering through multiple reruns of the always excruciating David and Kim on the Phone Show, he’s suddenly not sure.
“I like whoever,” Cook breathes, hooking his other hand around David’s waist and actually laughing a little. “I mean, I like both, and I really like y - Jesus, Archie, are you sure about this?”
David shivers from the contact. It occurs to him absolutely concretely at this point that the, um… the thing he feels isn’t necessarily one-sided. He chews at his lip and takes a deep breath because suddenly it feels like all the oxygen’s been cut off from his brain. “I -” he begins, then stops and grins. This is what he wants. This is what he’s been wanting. “Um. I, um. Yes.”
--
David’s backstage at the show that’s presented by the lady with the big hair who always wears too much make up, watching as Cook takes out his phone and dials. He’s not annoyed though, not this time, and he smiles to himself because he knows exactly how the conversation’s going to go.
“Kim, hey, it’s David,” Cook says when she picks up, running his hand through his hair. “Uh, listen, I hate to do this to you, but we kind of need to talk…”
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Author: that_1_incident
Fandom: American Idol
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Profanity
Pairing: David Archuleta/David Cook (with some David Cook/Kimberly Caldwell, but nothing gross um, explicit)
Word Count: ~1,300
Summary: David might have got over everything quicker if Cook didn’t insist on talking about her every five seconds.
Disclaimer: Ugh, the Davids are too awesome to be owned. They own. Also, ewww, the first part of this, with Cook asking Kimberly out on live TV, it... ugh, it actually happened. Don't make me link to it.
Author's Notes: (Sort of) an answer to epicflailer's request for "Archie thwarting all of 19E's attempts to hook Cook up with girls (whether accidentally or on purpose)" as part of the Cookleta fic train at cookleta. The thread begins here. I say "sort of an answer" because there's only one girl and Cook kind of did a lot of it himself, but. She seemed to be happy with it, so that's what matters! Incidentally, epicflailer is... she is so awesome, you guys. She writes Archie ridiculously well. I actually asked her if she was him in disguise a few days ago.
---<---<---@
“And so I’m actually going to ask you out to dinner right now,” Cook says in this goofy voice, and to most people his tone would sound completely casual but David knows him well enough to tell he’s nervous and overcompensating. “That’s what I’m gonna do.”
David beams reflexively as Kimberly squeals her affirmative and sort of um, launches herself into Cook’s arms. It’s one of the stretched, awkward grins that Cook told him to tone down a bit because they look a little forced but really, it’s the best he can do considering the present situation. He doesn’t have room for feelings right now, so he just focuses on whatever Justin’s saying and laughs at the end of it.
--
David might have got over everything quicker if Cook didn’t insist on talking about her every five seconds. Their schedules are insane now that Idol’s over, with TV show hosts and newspaper reporters clamoring to talk to both of them (which David doesn’t understand because, hi, Cook’s the American Idol, and his voice is way better and he’s a lot more attractive and totally a lot more coherent, gosh). But, yeah, for whatever reason they end up doing a lot of press together, meaning David’s often around when Cook calls her in between interviews and acts all coy about their relationship on “The View” (“There is somebody, yes.” “Is she here?” “She is not here.” “Where is she?” “Somewhere else.”) Like, really… enough is enough. It’s not as if David would actually ever say something about it to Cook because, gosh, that’s rude, but sometimes he really, really wants to.
“You okay, Arch?” Cook asks. They’re backstage after their appearance on… something. David doesn’t usually remember the names of the shows themselves, preferring to associate them with mental pictures of their hosts (“the lady they always show in really soft lighting to hide her wrinkles,” for example, whose actual name is Barbara Walters).
Cook’s passing it off like a casual inquiry, something he suddenly thought of saying for no apparent reason a couple of seconds before. David almost finds it funny that Cook expects him to believe this is spontaneous considering the other man’s been shooting him surreptitious looks of concern all day, like he knows something’s wrong but can’t quite put his finger on what it is, but, whatever, he’ll play along.
“I’m fine,” David says lightly, meeting Cook’s eyes for a second before glancing away. He figures a brief assurance will suffice - especially in light of the fact that they don’t have any other engagements for a couple of hours, giving Cook the ideal opportunity to go off and blab to Kimberly - but Cook surprises him.
“Come on,” Cook says, cocking his head quite adorably to the right and making this face that’s like, dude, you really expect me to believe that? “What’s bothering you?” David shakes his head and Cook says more firmly, “Out with it.”
David sighs. When Cook gets like this, there’s no avoiding the question. “I might be, um, a little - well, no, okay, it’s stupid because she’s your girlfriend and it’s so okay that you want to talk to her, it’s totally fine and normal and stuff, and… and having a girlf- um, a… being in a relationship is so nice and everything, so I really don’t - well, I imagine it would be, you know, because I haven’t, um… yeah.”
The corners of Cook’s lips twitch like he’s trying not to laugh. “David Archuleta, are you jealous?”
David feels a hot, red flush creeping slowly up his neck. “Gosh, no. No, absolutely not, Cook, I would never -”
“You are,” Cook marvels, amazed, and his eyes sparkle with amusement which kind of, oh gosh, somehow makes him even hotter. David swallows hard and tells himself to stop being ridiculous just as this flash of realization passes over Cook’s face and he says incredulously, “Do you… Archie, do you have a crush on me?”
“What?” David sputters in his best oh my gosh, of course not voice, but he feels his cheeks start to burn their betrayal and gets a sinking feeling in his stomach. He’s expecting Cook to crack up, double over laughing and slap his thigh like he does, maybe make some joke about Mormons and cradle snatchers and burning in hell which… okay, maybe this whole thing is funny in some alternate universe where David can laugh at the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened in his life to date - maybe.
Cook doesn’t do any of those things, though. His eyes widen a lot and his mouth sort of falls open for a second before he realizes and closes it, but the only thing he says is “Are you kidding?” really quietly.
“I’m not,” David says stiffly, hating the blazing blush that’s giving him away and wishing fervently that he’d taken his father up on the offer to go back to the hotel for some downtime instead of electing to hang out with Cook.
“Arch, is this what…” (Cook sort of waves his hand between them - he’s smiling a little bit now and David doesn’t know why, which makes him nervous) “Is this what all this has been about? You being so… off recently? Is it because you’re jealous of Kim?”
David shuffles his feet.
“Oh my God, I thought it was because I got more votes than you.”
David’s head snaps up. “What?! No! Cook, I don’t care that you won, I wanted you to win, I think you’re amazing, you really deser-” He stops, realizes he’s incriminated himself, and bites his lip. “Oh, gosh.”
“Jesus, kid,” Cook says sort of roughly, and David’s about to object to that because he’s almost eighteen, thank you very much, when Cook lifts his hand and runs a callused thumb over David’s cheekbone.
David lets out what can only be described as a strangled, breathless squawk, and Cook shakes his head.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Um, I.” David’s skin feels like it’s on fire underneath Cook’s touch, and he can barely meet the other man’s eyes until Cook takes his hand away. “I just did?”
“Yeah, you’re fucking… you’re way overdue, you complete dumbass, what the fuck?”
And, wait, David’s all confused now because it sounds like Cook actually - but, no, he… that can’t be. “You, um. You like girls, though?” he says uncertainly because despite suffering through multiple reruns of the always excruciating David and Kim on the Phone Show, he’s suddenly not sure.
“I like whoever,” Cook breathes, hooking his other hand around David’s waist and actually laughing a little. “I mean, I like both, and I really like y - Jesus, Archie, are you sure about this?”
David shivers from the contact. It occurs to him absolutely concretely at this point that the, um… the thing he feels isn’t necessarily one-sided. He chews at his lip and takes a deep breath because suddenly it feels like all the oxygen’s been cut off from his brain. “I -” he begins, then stops and grins. This is what he wants. This is what he’s been wanting. “Um. I, um. Yes.”
--
David’s backstage at the show that’s presented by the lady with the big hair who always wears too much make up, watching as Cook takes out his phone and dials. He’s not annoyed though, not this time, and he smiles to himself because he knows exactly how the conversation’s going to go.
“Kim, hey, it’s David,” Cook says when she picks up, running his hand through his hair. “Uh, listen, I hate to do this to you, but we kind of need to talk…”
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