Sing Your Melody (I'll Sing Along)
[American Idol] [David Archuleta/David Cook] [PG-13]
davidxdavid started a post a day for the month of February, and for one of my days I put up an entry offering ficlets based on fairytales. It's taken a while to get round to it, but now that I have, I can't seem to stop. And, like all the ficlets that came before this one, it... kind of ran away with me, so. Um. This is for pixiebeanz, whom I adore, because what better way to welcome her to the world of Cookleta than with the only skill I actually have? ♥ ♥ ♥
Sing Your Melody (I'll Sing Along)
Once upon a time, in a land far, far away - farther than either your or my human mind can imagine - there lived a King and his gentle Queen.
The King was wise, and he often sought his wife's counsel in the people's matters, for she was as kind as she was beautiful. Thusly they ruled their lands with a fair but tender hand, and their people loved and revered them. Their kingdom prospered, and all was well for many a year.
But the King and Queen began to yearn for children, and so blessed were they that they were gifted with a son almost upon the blossoming of the thought.
Their first-born was brought into the world soon after, a handsome baby boy. His hair was black as ebony, his skin white as snow, and his lips red as a fresh Spring rose--
"He will be loved by all," the King declared, tearfully. "And henceforth his name shall be David James, crown Prince of the Archuleta Kingdom."
In a moment of joy, all customs were forgotten, and the writing of invitations to the Prince's christening was left to the royal advisor, a doting but clumsy old man. They were delivered by the royal guards once the sun rose, one invitation to every fairy in the land.
Every fairy... but one.
Paula Abdul, the most powerful fairy of them all, had been overlooked.
"Curses!" Paula shrieked, when the news reached her. "A thousand curses upon the royal family! The Prince shall indeed grow in grace and beauty, beloved by all who know him, but, before the sun sets on his sixteenth birthday, he shall prick his finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel--"
Except, um, this isn't exactly how the story goes, David doesn't think, but it's the version his dad's been telling him for, like, ever.
But anyway, he's turning eighteen today and he's still alive, only he's not, like, graceful or beautiful or any of those things, though the people do love him (and he loves them, oh my gosh! They're awesome). Plus he's already seen, like, a thousand spindles or spinning wheels or whatever, so obviously the prophecy isn't real.
Except apparently it is, only not all that accurate?
Because the last thing David remembers is his mom smiling at him across the dining table, spooning him more tomato soup (which is totally his favorite thing ever).
And then everything goes really, really dark.
When he wakes up again, it's - something feels different. David doesn't know what it is right away. The room smells different - um, nicer, sort of? - and his body feels all warm and boneless, and his head is tilted up, and his mouth is tingling, and - and there's someone there kissing him--
"Oh my gosh!" David yelps. The words are muffled by - by the other man's lips and David scrambles up and pushes him away. "Oh my gosh!" he repeats. He tries to sound scandalized, instead of, um, of someone who just woke up to being kissed and - and liking it, oh my heck. "What - who are you? What are you doing?"
"Uh," the stranger says, clearly startled. Then he shakes his head and grins a little, backhanding the shine off his mouth. "I thought that was pretty obvious. Guess it worked, huh?"
"What?" David demands, warily. "I don't - who are you? Why are you here?"
"Uh," the man says again, eyeing David like maybe David's the one with the problem - which David thinks is totally unfair because he's not the one going around breaking into people's rooms and kissing random people-- "I'm here to... rescue you?"
At David's confused look, he adds, "I'm David Cook."
"David Cook," David repeats, and then his eyes go wide when the name clicks. "Oh my gosh, Prince Cook! I - what - I'm so sorry, I didn't know - I didn't think you'd be so--"
"Handsome?" Prince Cook says, with a rakish grin. "Brave?"
"Young," David blurts, without quite meaning to. He cringes when his brain catches up to his mouth. "I mean--"
But Prince Cook is already laughing, one arm slung around David's bedpost to--oh, wait. That isn't-- "This isn't my room," David says, suddenly, as he sits up all the way. Why is he even-- "Oh my gosh, where am I?"
Prince Cook isn't laughing anymore. His voice is gentle when he asks, "You don't remember what happened?"
"No," David says, panicked, pulling back the covers (which have these weird, like, heart-shaped thingies on them, oh my -- these are totally not his) and getting off the bed. "Where--"
And then the world tips sideways as his knees give way.
"Whoa," Prince Cook says, lunging forward to catch him. He gets one arm wrapped firmly around David's waist before David hits the ground. "Hey, take it easy there, sleeping beauty."
And it's - up close, Prince Cook really is handsome. He's got these nice, kind eyes, and a - a strong jaw, and his mouth is really, um. David feels his face get hot. "Um," he says instead, and drops his eyes. "What?"
"Yeah," Prince Cook says, not unkindly, as he guides David back to the bed. For a second, David gets to lean on him, which is kind of nice. "It's what they've been calling you. You've been asleep for, like, a year now."
David balks. "A year?" he asks. His voice comes out all weird and scratchy. Oh my gosh, his mom and dad, and - and the kids--
Prince Cook sits down, beside him and David shifts a little closer without thinking about it. "Apparently about a year ago, Paula Abdul drugged your soup. Then she grabbed you and put you in this place, in the middle of nowheresville. The King put up notices everywhere when he found out. He got every Prince and fairy in the kingdom he could find. Nothing worked."
David shivers, and hunches in on himself, miserably. He can't even imagine -- if it had been Jazzy or something, oh my gosh.
Prince Cook puts a hand on his arm, then. He's smiling when David looks up. "Thank god for me, huh?"
Despite himself, David laughs. It comes out all watery. "Yeah," he says, and, when Prince Cook reaches for something he dropped on the floor, quickly swipes the back of his hand over his eyes.
"Okay then," Prince Cook says, and rubs his hands together. "Can you feel your legs yet? 'Cause I think it's about time we get you home."
"Yes," David agrees, readily. "I think so."
"Okay," Prince Cook says, half an hour later. He's very, very still. "Just so you know, this wasn't in the fucking fine print."
"Um," David says.
Prince Cook is barely breathing. "Piece of cake, they said," he mutters, almost under his breath. (David totally doesn't think that's, um, cute. Or whatever.) Prince Cook's fingers are clenched tight around the hilt of his sword. "Just cut the vines, scale the tower, kiss the fucking comatose patient, and bring him back. Easy. But does anyone think to mention the fucking fire-breathing dragon?"
"Um," David repeats.
"I've been in this moat for days trying to figure out how to get to you, and just when I think I'm going to get to ride off into the sunset, totally fucking figures--"
The dragon - Kate - huffs, and David puts his hand on Cook's shoulder. His lips start doing that tingly thing again when Prince Cook turns around to look at him--
(sort of like when he'd woken up to the heat of Prince Cook's palm against his jaw and their mouths fused together and--)
David flushes.
"David," Prince Cook says, and David can't help but notice that only, like, a tiny corner of his mouth is moving. "I get that I'm supposed to rescue you, and, you know, sweep you off your feet and into some happily ever after, but we've kind of got a situation on our hands, and I'm open to ideas."
David blinks. Happily ever after? "Oh," he says, belatedly. "Yes. See, um. Kate - the dragon - she's sort of my friend."
David smiles encouragingly as Prince Cook stares. A moment later, Prince Cook repeats, weakly, "Your friend."
"That's right, honey." Kate smiles, a big, toothy grin, and spreads her wings. "You boys need a lift?"
Prince Cook totally freaks out.
David doesn't laugh. Because first of all, Prince Cook totally just saved his life. And second of all, it's only a little bit funny.
Or, um, okay, maybe a little bit more than a little bit.
The ride back takes forever, but David keeps asking Prince Cook questions about the Kingdom, and his parents, and his family, and, like, everything - he's missed a whole year! - and Prince Cook tells him stories about swordfights, and the people from his own kingdom, and how, that one time with the mermaids--so it's not like they're about to run out of stuff to talk about.
David usually wouldn't mind the ride at all, even without the awesome conversation, but his body is starting to realize that it's all, like, sore and stuff from lying still so long, and he's also sort of hungry. "David," Prince - um, Cook says ("It's just Cook," Cook says. "Enough with the Prince schmaltz."). He sounds like he's trying not to laugh. "What happened to being more experienced with dragon rides than I am? Why are you squirming?"
"I'm not," David protests, shifting his weight again. "I'm just - I can't really feel my, um--"
Cook totally pokes him, then, in, um, in a very inappropriate place, and David yelps and blushes, craning his neck as far back as he can to glare. "Sorry," Cook says, only, like, he's obviously not sorry at all. "Did you feel that? I thought you were going to say you couldn't feel your--" He makes this gesture, like he's going to, um, feel David up again, and David jerks, reflexively, but his body is angled all weird and stuff, so instead of moving forward he sort of ends up overbalancing, sideways, and--
"Oh!" David gasps.
He only has a second as he slips, but it's enough to see Cook turn pale, to hear him shout, "David!"
And then he's falling.
David has to shut his eyes because his heart is in his mouth and his stomach clenches like he's going to throw up, not even because of this, just - seeing Cook that way, terrified and--
It's freezing, and he's hurtling down, arms spread helplessly, the wind whipping his hair in his face. And all he can think about is Cook, and how he wishes, back in the tower, he should have let Cook, um, and maybe they should have - he just wishes they'd had more time.
Then he hears, distantly, "David!"
And it gets louder, and louder, and louder, and David thinks, oh my gosh, isn't Heaven up there? because that's Cook's voice, he'd recognize it anywhere, and then he lands, hard.
On top of Cook.
Oh my gosh, Cook! David wants to say, but he's totally winded, and Cook is panting for breath in his ear. David tries to roll off him, weakly, but Cook wraps both arms around him and holds him steady. "Don't - fucking - move," Cook warns, but his voice is thin.
"Would you two stay put?" Kate demands, her voice booming through the clouds. "My crash landing ain't what it used to be."
David manages a laugh, but he doesn't really hear her, since his heart is still, like, pounding in his ears.
He can feel Cook's heart, too, drumming its rhythm against his back like a crazy bass line. Cook is so, so warm, and that's when David realizes he's shaking. Or - or maybe that's Cook, who's sitting up now, slowly, both arms still around him, clutching to him so tightly David can barely breathe.
He doesn't tell Cook to let him go.
"What the fuck were you thinking?" Cook demands, eventually. He could be shouting, but he isn't, his voice still unsteady in David's ear. That's somehow worse. "Jesus fucking Christ, David!"
"Sorry," David says. His pulse is still jumping, still tap-tap-tapping so quickly it feels like it's going to break skin. "Sorry, I wasn't--"
Cook makes a quiet sound. David can feel him shaking his head. "You," Cook says. It sounds kind of hysterical. "You're apologizing to me, when I was - when I could have--"
David can feel Cook's hold loosening a little, and, um, that isn't - so he leans back, and drops his head on Cook's shoulder so he can look up at him. Cook's eyes are wet, and he's sort of - he's blinking, hard, and his eyebrows are drawn and his mouth is pinched.
And it hits David, like a wonderful, wonderful burst of melody, it hits him; Cook's saved him twice, from falling into a coma first, and then from falling, um, pretty much to his death, so.
So maybe now, this time, here--
Maybe with Cook, falling will be okay.
"Cook," he says, and Cook kind of sniffles a little, which, okay, David does laugh this time, and Cook says, "oh, shut up, I was fucking terrified--"
And then David raises his head and kisses him.
Cook makes this sort of surprised kind of noise, and then he melts into it, kisses David like they're back in the tower and he's trying to breathe life into him again. One of his hands comes up to cup David's cheek, warm and gentle, and David leans into it on instinct. He feels Cook's other arm start to move, up his stomach, his chest, and then it settles there, a loose fist over his heart.
It makes David feel--
"Wow," Cook breathes, when they pull away. He doesn't let David go.
"Um," David says.
Cook breaks into a tentative grin. "You've been holding out on me, Archuleta."
David flushes almost on cue. "Oh my gosh!" he says.
"Better keep practicing," Cook adds.
David doesn't argue.
They're still making out, like, two hours later (um, seriously, how did Paula Abdul find that tower anyway?). David kind of has a crick in his neck, and Cook isn't letting him move ("no, not even an inch, I'm not going through that shit again."), but Cook's sort of all, um, teasing now? Like, he keeps nipping at David's lower lip and, um, licking the column of David's throat, and - and pressing small kisses into the curve of David's shoulder, which, um, totally, totally makes up for the tension in David's neck.
And then Cook says, suddenly, "I've sort of been holding out on you, too."
David blinks.
"You know, those other Princes? They didn't - they found the place okay. But, uh, it had to be, like - apparently, none of their kisses woke you up."
David frowns a little, and looks up to see Cook watching him. "Um?" he says. "I - I don't -- so that means...?"
"I don't know about true love or anything," Cook says, slowly. "I mean, we only just met." His smile is wry. "But apparently we're, uh, two halves of the same soul."
David pauses. "So," he says, finally. "That's good, right?" He bites his lip hopefully. "I mean, if - does that mean you want to keep, um, kissing me?"
Cook stares at him, and after a second, he starts to laugh. "David Archuleta, what would your parents think?"
"What?" David objects. "I - that is not fair! They would totally be on my side because you're all, whatever, telling me important things when I'm so not, like, focused!"
He's not entirely sure that's true, though, so, when Cook looks up again, David only feels a little guilty when he adds, shyly, "But I - maybe we could, um, take a detour? Before we test that theory?"
It takes a second, but then Cook grins, pressing another kiss to David's temple. "I hear Paris is nice this time of year," he agrees.
davidxdavid started a post a day for the month of February, and for one of my days I put up an entry offering ficlets based on fairytales. It's taken a while to get round to it, but now that I have, I can't seem to stop. And, like all the ficlets that came before this one, it... kind of ran away with me, so. Um. This is for pixiebeanz, whom I adore, because what better way to welcome her to the world of Cookleta than with the only skill I actually have? ♥ ♥ ♥
Sing Your Melody (I'll Sing Along)
Once upon a time, in a land far, far away - farther than either your or my human mind can imagine - there lived a King and his gentle Queen.
The King was wise, and he often sought his wife's counsel in the people's matters, for she was as kind as she was beautiful. Thusly they ruled their lands with a fair but tender hand, and their people loved and revered them. Their kingdom prospered, and all was well for many a year.
But the King and Queen began to yearn for children, and so blessed were they that they were gifted with a son almost upon the blossoming of the thought.
Their first-born was brought into the world soon after, a handsome baby boy. His hair was black as ebony, his skin white as snow, and his lips red as a fresh Spring rose--
"He will be loved by all," the King declared, tearfully. "And henceforth his name shall be David James, crown Prince of the Archuleta Kingdom."
In a moment of joy, all customs were forgotten, and the writing of invitations to the Prince's christening was left to the royal advisor, a doting but clumsy old man. They were delivered by the royal guards once the sun rose, one invitation to every fairy in the land.
Every fairy... but one.
Paula Abdul, the most powerful fairy of them all, had been overlooked.
"Curses!" Paula shrieked, when the news reached her. "A thousand curses upon the royal family! The Prince shall indeed grow in grace and beauty, beloved by all who know him, but, before the sun sets on his sixteenth birthday, he shall prick his finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel--"
Except, um, this isn't exactly how the story goes, David doesn't think, but it's the version his dad's been telling him for, like, ever.
But anyway, he's turning eighteen today and he's still alive, only he's not, like, graceful or beautiful or any of those things, though the people do love him (and he loves them, oh my gosh! They're awesome). Plus he's already seen, like, a thousand spindles or spinning wheels or whatever, so obviously the prophecy isn't real.
Except apparently it is, only not all that accurate?
Because the last thing David remembers is his mom smiling at him across the dining table, spooning him more tomato soup (which is totally his favorite thing ever).
And then everything goes really, really dark.
When he wakes up again, it's - something feels different. David doesn't know what it is right away. The room smells different - um, nicer, sort of? - and his body feels all warm and boneless, and his head is tilted up, and his mouth is tingling, and - and there's someone there kissing him--
"Oh my gosh!" David yelps. The words are muffled by - by the other man's lips and David scrambles up and pushes him away. "Oh my gosh!" he repeats. He tries to sound scandalized, instead of, um, of someone who just woke up to being kissed and - and liking it, oh my heck. "What - who are you? What are you doing?"
"Uh," the stranger says, clearly startled. Then he shakes his head and grins a little, backhanding the shine off his mouth. "I thought that was pretty obvious. Guess it worked, huh?"
"What?" David demands, warily. "I don't - who are you? Why are you here?"
"Uh," the man says again, eyeing David like maybe David's the one with the problem - which David thinks is totally unfair because he's not the one going around breaking into people's rooms and kissing random people-- "I'm here to... rescue you?"
At David's confused look, he adds, "I'm David Cook."
"David Cook," David repeats, and then his eyes go wide when the name clicks. "Oh my gosh, Prince Cook! I - what - I'm so sorry, I didn't know - I didn't think you'd be so--"
"Handsome?" Prince Cook says, with a rakish grin. "Brave?"
"Young," David blurts, without quite meaning to. He cringes when his brain catches up to his mouth. "I mean--"
But Prince Cook is already laughing, one arm slung around David's bedpost to--oh, wait. That isn't-- "This isn't my room," David says, suddenly, as he sits up all the way. Why is he even-- "Oh my gosh, where am I?"
Prince Cook isn't laughing anymore. His voice is gentle when he asks, "You don't remember what happened?"
"No," David says, panicked, pulling back the covers (which have these weird, like, heart-shaped thingies on them, oh my -- these are totally not his) and getting off the bed. "Where--"
And then the world tips sideways as his knees give way.
"Whoa," Prince Cook says, lunging forward to catch him. He gets one arm wrapped firmly around David's waist before David hits the ground. "Hey, take it easy there, sleeping beauty."
And it's - up close, Prince Cook really is handsome. He's got these nice, kind eyes, and a - a strong jaw, and his mouth is really, um. David feels his face get hot. "Um," he says instead, and drops his eyes. "What?"
"Yeah," Prince Cook says, not unkindly, as he guides David back to the bed. For a second, David gets to lean on him, which is kind of nice. "It's what they've been calling you. You've been asleep for, like, a year now."
David balks. "A year?" he asks. His voice comes out all weird and scratchy. Oh my gosh, his mom and dad, and - and the kids--
Prince Cook sits down, beside him and David shifts a little closer without thinking about it. "Apparently about a year ago, Paula Abdul drugged your soup. Then she grabbed you and put you in this place, in the middle of nowheresville. The King put up notices everywhere when he found out. He got every Prince and fairy in the kingdom he could find. Nothing worked."
David shivers, and hunches in on himself, miserably. He can't even imagine -- if it had been Jazzy or something, oh my gosh.
Prince Cook puts a hand on his arm, then. He's smiling when David looks up. "Thank god for me, huh?"
Despite himself, David laughs. It comes out all watery. "Yeah," he says, and, when Prince Cook reaches for something he dropped on the floor, quickly swipes the back of his hand over his eyes.
"Okay then," Prince Cook says, and rubs his hands together. "Can you feel your legs yet? 'Cause I think it's about time we get you home."
"Yes," David agrees, readily. "I think so."
"Okay," Prince Cook says, half an hour later. He's very, very still. "Just so you know, this wasn't in the fucking fine print."
"Um," David says.
Prince Cook is barely breathing. "Piece of cake, they said," he mutters, almost under his breath. (David totally doesn't think that's, um, cute. Or whatever.) Prince Cook's fingers are clenched tight around the hilt of his sword. "Just cut the vines, scale the tower, kiss the fucking comatose patient, and bring him back. Easy. But does anyone think to mention the fucking fire-breathing dragon?"
"Um," David repeats.
"I've been in this moat for days trying to figure out how to get to you, and just when I think I'm going to get to ride off into the sunset, totally fucking figures--"
The dragon - Kate - huffs, and David puts his hand on Cook's shoulder. His lips start doing that tingly thing again when Prince Cook turns around to look at him--
(sort of like when he'd woken up to the heat of Prince Cook's palm against his jaw and their mouths fused together and--)
David flushes.
"David," Prince Cook says, and David can't help but notice that only, like, a tiny corner of his mouth is moving. "I get that I'm supposed to rescue you, and, you know, sweep you off your feet and into some happily ever after, but we've kind of got a situation on our hands, and I'm open to ideas."
David blinks. Happily ever after? "Oh," he says, belatedly. "Yes. See, um. Kate - the dragon - she's sort of my friend."
David smiles encouragingly as Prince Cook stares. A moment later, Prince Cook repeats, weakly, "Your friend."
"That's right, honey." Kate smiles, a big, toothy grin, and spreads her wings. "You boys need a lift?"
Prince Cook totally freaks out.
David doesn't laugh. Because first of all, Prince Cook totally just saved his life. And second of all, it's only a little bit funny.
Or, um, okay, maybe a little bit more than a little bit.
The ride back takes forever, but David keeps asking Prince Cook questions about the Kingdom, and his parents, and his family, and, like, everything - he's missed a whole year! - and Prince Cook tells him stories about swordfights, and the people from his own kingdom, and how, that one time with the mermaids--so it's not like they're about to run out of stuff to talk about.
David usually wouldn't mind the ride at all, even without the awesome conversation, but his body is starting to realize that it's all, like, sore and stuff from lying still so long, and he's also sort of hungry. "David," Prince - um, Cook says ("It's just Cook," Cook says. "Enough with the Prince schmaltz."). He sounds like he's trying not to laugh. "What happened to being more experienced with dragon rides than I am? Why are you squirming?"
"I'm not," David protests, shifting his weight again. "I'm just - I can't really feel my, um--"
Cook totally pokes him, then, in, um, in a very inappropriate place, and David yelps and blushes, craning his neck as far back as he can to glare. "Sorry," Cook says, only, like, he's obviously not sorry at all. "Did you feel that? I thought you were going to say you couldn't feel your--" He makes this gesture, like he's going to, um, feel David up again, and David jerks, reflexively, but his body is angled all weird and stuff, so instead of moving forward he sort of ends up overbalancing, sideways, and--
"Oh!" David gasps.
He only has a second as he slips, but it's enough to see Cook turn pale, to hear him shout, "David!"
And then he's falling.
David has to shut his eyes because his heart is in his mouth and his stomach clenches like he's going to throw up, not even because of this, just - seeing Cook that way, terrified and--
It's freezing, and he's hurtling down, arms spread helplessly, the wind whipping his hair in his face. And all he can think about is Cook, and how he wishes, back in the tower, he should have let Cook, um, and maybe they should have - he just wishes they'd had more time.
Then he hears, distantly, "David!"
And it gets louder, and louder, and louder, and David thinks, oh my gosh, isn't Heaven up there? because that's Cook's voice, he'd recognize it anywhere, and then he lands, hard.
On top of Cook.
Oh my gosh, Cook! David wants to say, but he's totally winded, and Cook is panting for breath in his ear. David tries to roll off him, weakly, but Cook wraps both arms around him and holds him steady. "Don't - fucking - move," Cook warns, but his voice is thin.
"Would you two stay put?" Kate demands, her voice booming through the clouds. "My crash landing ain't what it used to be."
David manages a laugh, but he doesn't really hear her, since his heart is still, like, pounding in his ears.
He can feel Cook's heart, too, drumming its rhythm against his back like a crazy bass line. Cook is so, so warm, and that's when David realizes he's shaking. Or - or maybe that's Cook, who's sitting up now, slowly, both arms still around him, clutching to him so tightly David can barely breathe.
He doesn't tell Cook to let him go.
"What the fuck were you thinking?" Cook demands, eventually. He could be shouting, but he isn't, his voice still unsteady in David's ear. That's somehow worse. "Jesus fucking Christ, David!"
"Sorry," David says. His pulse is still jumping, still tap-tap-tapping so quickly it feels like it's going to break skin. "Sorry, I wasn't--"
Cook makes a quiet sound. David can feel him shaking his head. "You," Cook says. It sounds kind of hysterical. "You're apologizing to me, when I was - when I could have--"
David can feel Cook's hold loosening a little, and, um, that isn't - so he leans back, and drops his head on Cook's shoulder so he can look up at him. Cook's eyes are wet, and he's sort of - he's blinking, hard, and his eyebrows are drawn and his mouth is pinched.
And it hits David, like a wonderful, wonderful burst of melody, it hits him; Cook's saved him twice, from falling into a coma first, and then from falling, um, pretty much to his death, so.
So maybe now, this time, here--
Maybe with Cook, falling will be okay.
"Cook," he says, and Cook kind of sniffles a little, which, okay, David does laugh this time, and Cook says, "oh, shut up, I was fucking terrified--"
And then David raises his head and kisses him.
Cook makes this sort of surprised kind of noise, and then he melts into it, kisses David like they're back in the tower and he's trying to breathe life into him again. One of his hands comes up to cup David's cheek, warm and gentle, and David leans into it on instinct. He feels Cook's other arm start to move, up his stomach, his chest, and then it settles there, a loose fist over his heart.
It makes David feel--
"Wow," Cook breathes, when they pull away. He doesn't let David go.
"Um," David says.
Cook breaks into a tentative grin. "You've been holding out on me, Archuleta."
David flushes almost on cue. "Oh my gosh!" he says.
"Better keep practicing," Cook adds.
David doesn't argue.
They're still making out, like, two hours later (um, seriously, how did Paula Abdul find that tower anyway?). David kind of has a crick in his neck, and Cook isn't letting him move ("no, not even an inch, I'm not going through that shit again."), but Cook's sort of all, um, teasing now? Like, he keeps nipping at David's lower lip and, um, licking the column of David's throat, and - and pressing small kisses into the curve of David's shoulder, which, um, totally, totally makes up for the tension in David's neck.
And then Cook says, suddenly, "I've sort of been holding out on you, too."
David blinks.
"You know, those other Princes? They didn't - they found the place okay. But, uh, it had to be, like - apparently, none of their kisses woke you up."
David frowns a little, and looks up to see Cook watching him. "Um?" he says. "I - I don't -- so that means...?"
"I don't know about true love or anything," Cook says, slowly. "I mean, we only just met." His smile is wry. "But apparently we're, uh, two halves of the same soul."
David pauses. "So," he says, finally. "That's good, right?" He bites his lip hopefully. "I mean, if - does that mean you want to keep, um, kissing me?"
Cook stares at him, and after a second, he starts to laugh. "David Archuleta, what would your parents think?"
"What?" David objects. "I - that is not fair! They would totally be on my side because you're all, whatever, telling me important things when I'm so not, like, focused!"
He's not entirely sure that's true, though, so, when Cook looks up again, David only feels a little guilty when he adds, shyly, "But I - maybe we could, um, take a detour? Before we test that theory?"
It takes a second, but then Cook grins, pressing another kiss to David's temple. "I hear Paris is nice this time of year," he agrees.