Just an Ordinary Love Story (that's what we are): Part One

[amfiguree]

[American Idol] [David Archuleta/David Cook] [G]

So the best way to de-stress is to write a chapter of the story you are madly in love with, right? This part was supposed to be about twice this, but real life has me swamped and I might not be able to post any more till mid-December. /o\ So, without further ado. Thanks must go out to the lovely starafar, who helped me with all the bits I was stuck with even though cookleta isn't really her thing. :-* All earlier parts can be found here.



Just an Ordinary Love Story (that's what we are)

Part One

There's a beat of silence after Cook introduces himself, mainly because David's kind of - David's just staring. Then Cook tilts his head, as if to say yeeeeeeeah, awkward, and David blinks and shakes himself enough to add, "Um."

"It's okay, you know," Cook tells him, with an easy grin. "You can still get your money back."

"Oh," David repeats belatedly. "Oh, no, I wasn't--" except he totally was, and his face heats up. Which is when his brain points out that Cook's still standing in the hallway. David steps back hurriedly, and waves Cook in. "Just," he says, as he shuts the door behind them, gesturing a little wildly, "Just - you're, you know."

"Tall?" Cook ventures, as he turns to look at David. There's still the slightest tug of a smile at his lips.

"Uh--"

"Charming?"

"I'm--"

"Excessively handsome?"

"A guy," David blurts out, without quite meaning to. "You're a guy, and I didn't - when they said Cook, D., I thought you'd be a, a, a Dolly or a - a Dinah, or--"

"Wait," Cook interrupts, and there's a second where David has no clue what he's going to say. "You'd be okay with dating a Dinah Cook?"

"Oh my gosh," David says.

Cook cracks up, and David sort of - for a second, he thinks about just calling up the agency and telling them that it's all a big mistake, and Cook is - Cook's really nice, but he's - he's not really what David's looking for. Then David realizes that the flight to Salt Lake is in, like, a day, and there's no way he's going to get a replacement in time for that, which, okay, he should totally have thought about before, only he didn't, and he kind of raises his hands and flounders a little bit. "Oh, no," he says, miserably. "Even if I could return you--"

That just sets Cook off again, and David backpedals. "Oh, wait, no," he says, a little desperately. "I mean, it's not, you're - you seem really nice, especially for an escort--"

Cook just starts laughing even harder, and David stands there, looking at him helplessly. Apparently, that's funny, too, because Cook has to put a hand over his eyes till his shoulders stop shaking and he can speak without his breath hitching again.

"Look, David," Cook says eventually, as he pulls out David's request form from his back pocket - and oh, gosh, David realizes belatedly, he must have read it - and holds it out to him, before tapping his finger against the tail end of it. "I'm sorry but technically, I don't think they'd let you return me anyway," here, Cook's mouth starts twitching again. "Not if it's because I'm not a Dinah Cook."

Gender:, the contract reads. Check one. Female. Male. Both.

David closes his eyes in horror.

He'd been filling out the form, and then Jason had knocked, and - and then...

It's not even that it's not true, the - the part about him liking girls and boys. It is. Even his parents know. David came out to them years ago, when one of his older co-competitors on Star Search had pushed him into a closet - and David hadn't understood the metaphor in that till, like, two months ago - and stolen his first kiss. Instinct had David opening his mouth to protest but you have to ask first--, except Justin had kind of - kind of put his hand on David's shoulder and tilted his head and leaned in some more and --

And David hadn't really had the heart to protest after that.

So that's - that's not even the problem, really. It's just - the thing is, his parents probably think it was just, like, some kind of phase or something, and David hasn't exactly brought anyone home before this - he hasn't even had a girlfriend yet - so this is going to mean a lot of confusion and questions, which is what David was trying to avoid in the first place.

"Um," he says glumly, ducking his head, because there really isn't anything he can do about it now, is there? "I'm really - I'm not, like, a - a slut. Or anything."

Cook raises an eyebrow at that, but his lips are curling up again, just a hint. "Well," he says. "That makes one of us."

David takes a couple of seconds to register that. But then he does, and his head flies up. "But," he says, flailing a little as he starts panicking again, for the third time in as many minutes, probably. Oh my gosh, this is not good, this is, he can't have hired a - a prostitute, because --oh, oh no, how is he supposed to go to confession with something like this? "But I talked to - you're not supposed to - to, it was in the legal... thing that I had to sign and everything! And on the phone, they said..."

"Yeeeeeah," Cook drawls, still looking faintly amused. "It would be pretty illegal for them to be saying anything else."

"It's pretty illegal for you to be saying anything else!" David objects.

Cook's put his face in his hands again, but David can hear his muffled laughter past the cracks between his fingers. "Look," Cook says, when he's finally straightened and wiped his eyes, "Don't - we got off on the wrong foot here. You're a client - don't look at me like that! You're a client, and at the agency, we're all professionals." Cook swipes at the imaginary lint on his shirt, then plasters on a smile and holds out his hand. "Let's try this again. Hi David. I'm David Cook, your wedding escort. Just so we're clear, I'm not a pedophile--"

"I turned 20 three months ago!" David interrupts.

"Which just proves my point," Cook goes on, doggedly. "I'm just a regular perv like anyone else, so you have nothing to be worried about. I'm not going to force myself on you or anything." Cook pauses, then, but only to grin and waggle his eyebrows. "Unless you're into that kind of thing."

"Uh," David blinks.

Cook's smile softens, just a little, and David gets this sort of warm feeling in his chest, like the time he'd gone out on his first--wait, no. He ducks his head. "Seriously," Cook says. "I'm told I'm pretty good company. And I've been known to turn a few heads, too."

"Well, yeah, duh," David says, absently, still working out how to break this to his parents. "That's clearly not, like, an issue for you."

Cook starts out and out laughing again. "Are you checking me out, Dave?"

David's eyes nearly bug out of his head. "No!" he protests. "Just, at the door, there was a lot of time to - I mean, no!"

Cook grins. "Damn," he says. "I'm gonna have to work on that."

"Oh, no, don't--" David says. He's completely out of his element. "I mean, you have really pretty eyes. And, um, your hair? Your hair is really nice. And - and your hands. You have really big hands. And feet!"

"Uh," Cook says, uncertainly. The corner of his mouth is starting to twitch again. "Okay?"

"Oh my gosh," David says, awkwardly. After being roommates with Jason for so long, it's not like he can pretend he doesn't know what Cook's thinking. "I didn't mean it like that. Please don't - please stop letting me say stuff like that."

Cook stops cackling long enough to clap David firmly on the back. "Putting that on top of my to-do list, man. But first thing's first. I'm gonna need a suit for this, right?"

"Um," David frowns. "I guess? What else do you wear at weddings?"

"Jeans and a nice shirt?" Cook offers. David looks at him, and Cook shakes his head in resignation. "Yeah, didn't think so. We're gonna need to go suit shopping before we leave."

"Oh, but--" David says. He used most - okay, all of the money he's saved over the past year doing little performances at school events just to hire Cook. He doesn't - he hadn't thought to include the cost of a new suit. And it's going to have to be a good suit, which is so, so far out of his price range, except Jazzy will kill him if he settles for anything less, so--

"On my dollar," Cook says, interrupting David before he can actually begin panicking. "I would've packed a couple for you to choose from, but I threw all of mine in a bonfire last fall," he explains.

"Oh," David says. It's kind of a strange joke, and it's not really funny, but Cook's just looking at him steadily, and he rushes to tack on an, "um, ha ha?"

"Yeah," Cook says, as he shoves his hands into his jean pockets. "I wish I was kidding, too."

It's not all bad, though, having to go tuxedo-shopping with Cook. The first couple of minutes are a little awkward, but Cook seems to get that that's just David's default mode of operation, because he just steamrolls through it, talking about the weather, and the dermatologist who offered him a free facial on his walk over to David's place (which David still doesn't know if he's making up), and the fact that people should never turn books into movies "because they always ruin it, man. Have you ever seen The Fountainhead?"

"Yeah, but haven't you seen the Lord of the Rings?" David asks, in response to that.

"You raise a valid point," Cook replies gravely.

"No," David says. "I raise three."

David starts to warm up a little after that, and they get to have an actual conversation. Well, okay, mostly Cook talks, and David just tries not to trip over while he laughs because Cook tells the craziest stories. Cook has to reach out to steady him twice. By the time they reach the store, David's cheeks are flushed and his stomach hurts.

The lady behind the counter sees Cook first when she looks up, and she gets this look on her face that makes David a little worried she's going to maybe swoon. Then she sees David, too, and she stops midway of batting her eyelashes to give them this other look instead, this kind of 'awww' look. Okay, so it isn't anything new, really, except the only people David's used to getting that look from are old cat ladies and, like, his sixty-four aunts on his mom's side of the family that he doesn't actually remember from anywhere but Christmas dinners, so he's a little creeped out. She can't be older than twenty-five.

"Hi," she says, cheerfully. "I'm Lisa. Can I get you anything?"

"Hey Lisa," Cook says. "I need a suit for a wedding."

Lisa looks at Cook for a moment, then at David, clearly struggling for words. "Just you?" she asks eventually, before aiming a quick, if somewhat surprised, smile at David.

"Just me," Cook nods.

"Um," David says, when he realizes Lisa's still looking at him. "My mom made me pick mine out when she mailed the invitations?"

"Great," Lisa says, brightly. "Should I be looking for a matching suit? Or...?"

There's a silence when Lisa trails off, and Cook turns to look expectantly at David. "Oh," David says. "Right, yes. Um. It's a - it's just your basic black suit, I guess?"

"All right, then!" Lisa says. "I'll see what I can do."

Lisa's really awesome at her job, David decides, fifteen minutes later. She already has about twenty different suits lined up for Cook to try on, and, okay, what does it matter if they all look exactly the same to David? He's not the professional. Only - only Lisa's standing in the waiting area with him, shooting him these patient little smiles and David feels maybe ten times more awkward without Cook acting as a buffer.

So he is a little relieved when, from behind the changing room door, he hears Cook say, "You know, I think this is it."

Lisa's frowning, though. "Are you sure?" she asks. "I thought the sleeves might be a little too long."

"No, it fits great," Cook says. There's a short scuffle with the lock, and then the door swings open, and Cook steps out with a melodramatic little flourish. "Tada."

Over from her corner of the room, Lisa breathes a quiet, "Wow."

David blinks. It's a simple suit, black on gray, elegant but not-quite formal. It's perfect.

"So." Cook does an exaggerated pirouette. "Am I presentable enough for you?"

That makes David's stomach do a little flip - okay, so it's more like a somersault than a flip, really - and David has to remind himself that Cook's a - a -- that this is what Cook's supposed to do, and - and that's the reason he can't stop staring. "Um," he says finally, weakly.

Even then, he can see Cook itching to crack up. "I'm gonna take that as a yes."

There's a pregnant pause, and Lisa clears her throat politely. "I'll go ring up the register," she says. On her way out, she stops to give David another smile. "Congratulations," she murmurs with a little giggle, looking for all the world like she's about to pinch his cheeks. "He's insanely hot."

"Oh," David replies, after she leaves - and, wow, his brain isn't working at all.

"Yeah," Cook says smugly, reaching out to ruffle David's hair before he goes back into the changing room. "I know."

David's stomach is still doing that funny cartwheel thing when Cook comes out of the dressing room a little while later. He can't make himself look at Cook as they head back out to the store front, or at the price tag, which, judging from the grin on Lisa's face, is probably a good thing. "Thank you," she chirps, and gives David a discreet wink on their way out.

"So I was thinking of maybe getting some dinner," Cook says conversationally, just as David blurts, "Um, so I'll see you at the airport?"

And then of course David has to try to take it back, because it's not like he doesn't want to spend time with Cook, although - although, okay, it's probably not such a good idea right now. But Cook just gets this odd, half-smile on his face and rolls his eyes as he waves David off. "It's okay, man, I should probably start packing anyway."

David pauses midway of his protest. "Oh my gosh, Cook. You haven't packed?"

Cook's already taken off, jogging backwards down the street as he raises a hand in a small wave. "See you tomorrow, Dave."

It turns out that spending that much time on his own isn't such a good idea after all. All David can think about the rest of the night is everything that could go wrong on the trip - he's going to get yelled at, his parents are going to freak out, Jazzy's going to decide she really wants to get married to Cook instead, or, worst of all, Cook isn't going to show up at the airport. He falls asleep at, like, three in the morning, and when he wakes up, although he doesn't really remember his dream, there's a puddle of drool on his pillow and - and a problem he has to take care of in the bathroom, really quickly and really quietly, before he manages to drag himself out of his dorm and into a cab.

As if the day isn't bad enough, the traffic is so crazy that David finally gets off the cab, like, ten blocks away from the airport and walks the rest of the way, luggage in tow. He spends the entire time freaking out some more, half-running in case he misses the plane, worrying about what he's going to do if Cook doesn't show, and what he's going to do if he does. He can't decide which is worse.

Cook's already waiting for him when he gets there, and the smile slips right off his face once he sees David. "Sorry," David says miserably, breathing hard. "The traffic was really bad, and when I woke up this morning I realized I forgot to pack some of my books from school, and then there wasn't any more space in my luggage so I had to redo it all."

"Hey--"

"And then I got this message from my parents on my voicemail and they're so excited that I'm coming home, and they don't even know I'm bringing you with me--"

"David--"

"And I don't even know what I'm going to tell them, and if they get mad and I ruin the wedding, Jazzy is never going to forgive me, ever, and they're going to have to do the wedding over and--"

"Shut up," Cook says.

"--I can't, wait, what?" David objects, or tries to, but Cook's already tugged his bags away from him and set them on the ground. "Cook--"

Cook just looks at him for a long, hard moment, and David feels his mouth snap shut. Then Cook's reaching for him without warning, grabbing him into a tight hug. David flails a little, trying to squirm away, but Cook just holds on till he gives up and David lets him, at least until his heart stops trying to stumble its way out of his chest.

"Okay?" Cook asks, after a second.

David nods and lets out an awkward breath against Cook's shirt. It's - he smells really good, a nice mixture of cinnamon and spice.

"Okay," Cook repeats, and when he lets David go, he's smiling again. "C'mon. I have a plane to catch and a wedding to crash."

On to Part Two.