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

[amfiguree]

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

I - argh. I'm supposed to be studying, but hey. Look how well that turned out. Um, there are probably a ton of mistakes in this part, and I will get to editing it soon, I promise. I'm sorry for the delay with this, folks! All earlier parts can be found here.



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

Part Two

David's stomach is doing cartwheels long after the plane takes off, and it has nothing to do with his fear of heights, or, like, the documentary on plane crashes they had to watch during one of their lectures last week (although that's definitely not helping anything). It's just - he can't stop thinking about what his parents are going to say once they see... once they realize--

And it's not that Cook isn't awesome - because he totally is - but David hasn't exactly done this before, this whole bringing someone home thing. And it's a fake someone too, so. So he's a little nervous.

He startles when he feels a hand on his arm. When he turns around, Cook's face is, like, two inches away from his, and he's leaning over the armrest a little, eyebrow raised. "Nervous flyer?" Cook murmurs, without taking his hand away.

And it's really kind of, um, warm, wow, maybe warmer than when Cook grabbed him in the airport and, um. "I, no," David says belatedly, on a long rush of breath, when Cook clears his throat. "No, just - you know. Weddings."

"Ah," Cook says, knowingly. "So you're not a fan of the whole walking down the aisle thing, huh?"

"What?" David says. Cook's hand is really, really warm. And kind of a little distracting. "Oh. Oh no, I mean, no, I think weddings are great. Kind of, I haven't been to that many, and this is, like, the first one in the family, so that's going to be pretty weird, maybe, I don't know. Also, um, you're kind of the first fake boyfriend I've ever taken home, so."

Cook's mouth is doing that thing again, the thing where it doesn't really know which way it wants to go. "Yeah," he says finally, as he settles back in his seat. "Trust me, I pretty much got the memo on that." He shoots David another look out of the corner of his eye. "So this is the first wedding in the family, huh?"

"Oh," David says. "Yeah. She's - they all thought -- since Claudia's the oldest, they figured, you know, but Jeff is really nice and Jazzy's kind of been with him since, like, second grade anyway, so it feels like they've been talking about this forever."

Cook lets out a low whistle. "Second grade love, that'll do it," he says, as he nudges David's side. "How many sisters are you planning to see married off?"

"Three," David says. "Um, or, I mean, Claudia might soon. She really likes Mark, but I don't think - she wants to be a nurse, so she's probably going to be away in grad school for a while and I guess they're going to try to do the whole long distance thing, so she doesn't think planning anything makes sense yet. "

As it turns out, Cook thinks that waiting makes perfect sense, although he's surprised that David doesn't want to be at home to check in on the boys and make sure they're the perfect marriage candidates they're making themselves out to be. David ends up having to explain that oh, it really isn't like that at all, and he would never have left Salt Lake if he'd been able to help it. Except he's always wanted to be a singer, and the vocal paralysis thing kind of put a stopper in that, so studying and writing music just seemed like the next best thing, and when Juilliard said yes, it didn't make sense to not go. His parents are still worried about him being so far away from home on his own, and Daniel and Amber email him all the time with, like, vegetable juice recipes from his mom and stuff, and he really misses them, but it's not so bad now. And yeah, he was kind of bummed about the singing thing for a while, but he's getting better - he's sure he's getting better - and eventually he'll go back to it, but for now life is pretty awesome.

Which, wow, David's sort of rambling already, but the thing is, Cook is really, really easy to talk to, and once David gets warmed up, it's kind of hard to stop. They talk about his mom and dad some more, because they're the best parents anyone could ever ask for, and they're totally supportive of everything David's ever wanted to do. And then they talk about David's pets, and then they even talk about school, and how much David's learned, and what he's learning, and how great Jason is as a roommate, even though he smokes up all the time - "or maybe because of that," Cook smirks, and David laughs.

Cook seems to take that as his cue to start telling, like, the worst jokes David has ever heard in his life, one after another, and it's only after the really awful one about the octopus and the sushi that David puts his hand over Cook's mouth and wheezes, "oh my gosh, stop," because he can't even breathe, he's laughing so hard. "How do you - that was terrible."

"Thank you," Cook says, muffled behind David's hand, and suddenly David's neck is really, really warm. Cook's grinning smugly when David yanks his hand away. Dang it, Cook's humor is totally throwing him off balance.

David looks down at his lap, searching for words. "That might have been, like, marginally worse than the joke about burning your suits," he settles for, finally.

Cook stiffens immediately, a reflex reaction, and David blinks. It's like going to bed one night in the fall and waking up to fresh snow.

"Oh," David blurts out, then, with a sort of sudden, inspired clarity. "You weren't joking."

Cook's expression closes off. His mouth is pulled in a tight, thin line, and his shoulders are drawn.

Like icing on the cake, David adds, "Why did you burn your suits?" before he can stop himself.

Cook doesn't reply to that either, just turns, woodenly, to look at the other passengers on board.

A long, awkward silence follows. Cook doesn't try to break it. David makes a couple of aborted attempts himself, but then he sighs and looks sheepishly down at his hands, preparing to spend the rest of the flight the same way. Dang it, he's always saying stuff like that. Daniel always said it was bound to get him in trouble one day, and now--

He's still sort of berating himself when he starts to doze off, a while later, but then Cook shifts against him, and he jerks back awake.

For a second he thinks Cook is going to, like, leave, except - well, okay, he can't, since they're on a plane and stuff, but still. Maybe he wants to switch seats or something. "What - Cook," David starts to say.

All Cook does is raise his hand and reach for the call button above their seats. A little light goes off, and before David can protest, a fight attendant pretty much materializes out of nowhere, beaming at them both. "How can I help you, sir?" she chirps.

David blinks when Cook puts a hand on his arm. "I know this is against policy," he murmurs, "But I was wondering if you could do us a little favor." He aims a sort of fond, sideways grin at David, before adding, "We're celebrating, and we thought it'd be nice to round it up with a glass of champagne."

David's eyes widen. "Um."

"I'm sorry, sir?" the stewardess says. She opens her mouth, takes another look at David, and then tries again. "That sounds lovely. What are you celebrating?"

"Well," Cook says, grinning some more, and then his hand slips into David's. His fingers are so warm that the cool metal of his ring makes David's skin sort of--"We're going for a wedding."

"Um," David says, helpfully.

"His family's hosting," Cook supplies. "It's going to be this big event, and we were just hoping to start things off a little more privately."

"Well, congratulations," the stewardess says, smiling at them both now, wider and genuine. It's the same look as the one Lisa gave them yesterday. She gently pats Cook's shoulder. "Let me see what I can do about that champagne."

"I'm underage!" David protests, but his brain kicks in a beat too late, and their attendant is already gone.

"I won't tell," Cook promises, as he sinks back against the seat, tugging his hand gently out of David's to finger the odd, furry purple material of the arm rest. "Besides, you have to practice for the wedding."

David doesn't even know Cook that well, and even he can figure out that this is Cook's way of apologizing.

And anyway it's sort of true, David supposes, grudgingly. And later, it turns out that sharing half a bottle of champagne is actually a really good idea. It makes David forget about the fact that his parents - who are waiting to pick him up from the airport - don't know he's bringing anyone (cook) (a man) with him. He's feeling totally comfortable by the time they land, a warm, happy buzz in his stomach from the alcohol and laughter and the way Cook's finger brushes his skin every time he reaches for more wine.

All that warmth evaporates once they make it to the arrival hall, though, and David sees his mom and dad there, waving and beaming and thrilled to have him home.

"Davey," his mom breathes, muffled against his shoulder, once he's close enough. For a second he hugs her back, tightly, and - oh my gosh, he's missed her so much. He laughs when his dad claps him on the shoulder, looking him up and down like it's been six years since they last saw each other.

"We're taking you out to dinner," his dad says, still grinning. "It's good to have you home, Dave."

And it is so, so good to be home, it really is, at least until Cook sort of... coughs, quietly, and steps up next to him, and David remembers.

His mom looks at him curiously, and then at Cook, with an uncertain smile. "Is this--?" she asks. Beside her, his dad goes ashen-faced, his smile erased completely, and David's heart plummets.

"Mom, Dad, this is David Cook," he says, anyway. His voice is totally not shaking. "He's my, um--" and he is totally not worried about saying it. "My--"

"We're parked outside," his dad interrupts. "We'll talk about this later."

David's palms start to sweat.

The drive to the restaurant is eerily quiet. His dad's face is stony, and his mom looks like she wants to say something, but she isn't sure where to start. Once in a while, Cook says, "So where are we headed?" or "How's the bride-to-be?", and David looks up at him gratefully, hoping--

But all his dad says is, "A new place," or "good," all flat and monotonous, and his mom just kind of bobs her head in agreement. After a couple more false starts, Cook goes quiet.

The restaurant isn't all that far away, but by the time they tumble out of the car, David's so tense he thinks he's going to be sick. There are butterflies in his stomach, and when Cook's hand lands on his back, careful and uncertain, he nearly jumps. "It's okay," Cook murmurs. "Come on."

Then his dad storms inside without a word, and David doesn't feel okay at all.

It's a nice place, new, a small sort-of diner that was built almost right after he left, Jazzy tells him later. It's got that old-school feel to it, booths lined up wall-to-wall, a black-and-white checkered floorboard, and a huge jukebox in the corner belting out showtunes from musicals David only vaguely remembers.

But David barely notices any of that as Cook guides him inside, and then settles into the booth beside him. They've barely sat down before his dad is saying, stiffly, "How long has - how long have you been--?"

David can't quite make himself look up as Cook turns to him thoughtfully, almost easily. "What's it been, like, two, three months now?"

David sees his dad balk. "Months?" he repeats.

"Oh," David nods, fervently. "Yes, um, something like that. Yes."

His mom looks at him strangely, but then offers Cook a warm, if guarded, nod. "David's never mentioned you," she says. It's not unkind.

"He's been figuring out a way to break it to you," Cook offers. David's dad gives him this look, then, concerned and a little sad, and that - that's the crux of it, David knows, that they think he didn't think to tell them, that he tried to - to hide it. David ducks his head and begins fiddling with the napkin in his lap.

"I didn't want to push him into anything," Cook adds, his hand suddenly finding its way to David's thigh, and David has to try his best not to jump. "But when this came up, everything just kind of fell into place."

"So how did you two meet?" his dad asks, except it's not - it's the tone his dad takes when he calls up to ask about frat parties and whether David's been offered any drugs, or, like, um, girls or whatever - and David looks up to see his mom frowning a little.

"Don't be rude, Jeff," she says.

"I'm asking a reasonable question, Lupe," his dad replies, quiet but firm.

David's face heats up. "Um," he says.

"No, it's fine," Cook says, aiming an amused smile at David, like they're in on some kind of secret. "We met at his birthday party."

"A party?" his dad interjects. "Davey, you didn't tell us you had a party."

"Oh," David says, floundering. "Oh, well, that's. Uh."

"It was a small surprise thing," Cook says. "I'm friends with his roommate, and I happened to be in town for a gig. Jason told me he had a friend who was having a party, and asked if I'd perform a couple of numbers. At the time, you know, any chance to sing and get the word out seemed like a good idea, so I said yes."

David watches his mom through Cook's speech. She starts out worried, but she's smiling a little by the time Cook's finished, that smile she gets when she thinks something's funny but doesn't want to give away the punch line. "At the time?" she asks.

The hand on David's knee shifts up, just an inch, and squeezes gently. "Yeah," Cook says, with a laugh. It sounds almost embarrassed--or, um, it would, if David didn't know better.

He totally knows better.

"Performing's been relegated to second place on my priority list for a couple of months now," Cook adds, shooting David another fond look, like he's about to lean over and--

"Wow," David says, looking down at his napkin. His skin feels like it's on fire. "It's really warm in here."

His mom pauses midway of tugging her coat on a little more snugly, and gives him a strange look, but Cook's already asking their waiter to turn the temperature down a notch. The hand on David's thigh squeezes again, reassuringly, and David has to struggle not to choke on his water.

His dad looks at him for a second, then turns back to Cook. David cringes a little, and feels, again, the weight of Cook's fingers on his skin. "Do your parents know?" his dad asks, eventually, and, oh my gosh, David feels like the worst person in the world at how small his dad's voice gets.

Don't say yes, David thinks at Cook. Don't say yes, please don't say yes. Maybe, like, osmosis or something--

"They suspect," Cook says, and David almost lets out a relieved little breath. "They know about my sexuality, and they know I'm seeing someone, but." Cook turns to him, then, smile warm and reassuring. "David wanted to tell you first. I know how much you guys mean to him, and I didn't want to assume..."

Cook trails off, then, a little uncertainly, mouth quirked in a hesitant smile. "Family comes first," he says, quietly. "I get that."

Distantly, David hears his dad calling for a waiter, and his mom flipping the menu open. Cook's still studying him, so seriously, and David has to look away first. He still feels flushed.

Things seem to get better after that, though, easier, and by the end of the night, his dad actually laughs at one of Cook's awful jokes, and his mom reaches for his hand under the table, and squeezes it gently.

When Cook goes to get them all a cab, though, both his mom and dad pull him aside. They look at him seriously and say, "David, we know it must be lonely being up in college by yourself--"

"No," David interrupts, quickly. "No, you guys don't have to worry. I'm fine."

"Well, yes," his mom says hesitantly. "Oh, honey. You know we just want what's best for you."

"I know, mom," David says, and oh my gosh, he must have read them wrongly. They must have seen right through him, and figured out that he's blown a thousand dollars just to get Cook to come so he could pretend to have a - a someone just so he wouldn't have to meet all the young girls Aunt Em knows--

"And Cook is... right now, is Cook what's best for you?"

"Oh," David says. Then his shoulders sag in utter relief. "Oh, that. Yes. Yes, um. Cook's awesome."

"Well," his mom says. "If you're sure." Her smile turns a little more affectionate, then. "He does seem like a very nice young man."

"Oh," David repeats, weakly. "Yes. Cook's great."

"And you're sure you're not coming home with us?" his dad adds, voice gruff. His eyebrows are knit, and David hesitates for a long second. He does want to go home (sort of), only he's totally going to slip up if Cook isn't there with him, and he doesn't think he can take, like, all this lying all the time. And all the kids are going to have questions for him, and Claudia - oh, gosh. He loves her, but she's totally going to ask about the - um, (not that she'd expect him to have, like, gone all the way, but um, maybe third base? Or something?) and like the kissing and, and making out and stuff, and how is David supposed to explain that he doesn't know about any of that without telling them that Cook isn't - that Cook is really just a... kind of borrowed boyfriend?

"It's simple," Cook says, later, when they get to the hotel. "You can't."

"Oh my gosh," David says miserably. "I really can't. I can't do this."

He's lying spread-eagle on his side of the room, twisting idly at the straw bracelet Jason had given him, like, forever ago, one night he'd been really, really high ("You and me," he said, with that smile that always made David want to smile back, "We're totally forever, man," and then he tied a knot around David's wrist and passed out).

Cook looks up from his place in the armchair, where he's pulling off his shoes. "Pretend," he says, easily. "Look, don't think about it as lying, okay? Right now, I am your boyfriend. We've been going out for three months. We met at your surprise birthday party. We have a good time together. We're thinking about doing this long-term."

David glances over, surprised. "We are?"

Cook laughs. "David, I don't know about you, but I'm pretty sure your parents already think I'm going to pop the question."

"Oh my gosh," David chokes, as he buries his head in his hands. The room - which is pretty tiny for a twin to begin with - suddenly seems a lot smaller.

His bed dips, and then Cook's on top of him, both of David's wrists caught in his hands. Cook tugs them down, away from David's face. "Archie, come on," Cook says. He laughs, then, but there's really nothing funny about the way he's looking at David. Which is good, um, because that keeps David from thinking about the fact that Cook is - that they're in kind of a compromising situation here. "You're probably one of the three college students in the state who's actually studying in school. I bet there are tons of things you want to do. Now's your chance. Tell me, if you could be doing anything, anything in the world, what would you be doing right now?"

"Um," David stalls. "I guess - I don't know, I--"

Cook makes a buzzing sound and shakes his head. "Lame. Try again. Anything, Archuleta."

"Oh, well, I," David shrugs. Or shrugs as much as he can with Cook still pinning him down. "I guess I'm - I really liked where I grew up, so -- I'd like to show you around. And, like, introduce you to my brother and sisters."

"Much better," Cook says, nodding in approval. "See, that? That would be the perfect second date."

"Wait, no," David protests. "I was just - you're not interested in that. It's really lame, like, all the stuff my mom tries to--"

"David," Cook says, firmly, and huffs out a laugh when David's mouth snaps shut. "That would be the perfect second date."

Reluctantly, David smiles. "I guess," he says finally, as he ducks his head a little. The stubborn knot in his stomach finally starts to come loose.

Cook rolls off him, then, and nudges his shoulder. "This is yours, David, okay? I'm just along for the ride. So make this your fantasy, because we're just here to have fun. No scary stuff." David nods, and Cook pauses, thoughtfully. "I mean, unless you're willing to fork out an extra couple hundred bucks."

"Cook!" David yelps, and flings a pillow at him, blushing furiously.

Cook's laughing too hard to fend off his attack.

"Seriously," he says, later, in between his wheezing, as he falls into his own bed. "Jesus, David."

"Shut up," David mutters, rolling his eyes a little bit. He can still feel his blush, and he reaches over to hit the light switch. Then he pillows his head on one arm, and turns to face Cook. Moonlight is coming in through the window, a small, square patch on Cook's bed, and David can see Cook looking back at him from across the room. The distance between them feels a lot farther than the length of a crummy bedside table and the portrait of a fruit bowl hanging above it.

David feels the tug of a smile on his mouth, and, even in the dark, he can see Cook grinning back. He presses his cheek into his palm, watching Cook watch him till he falls asleep.

On to Part Three.