Fic: Gathered Together, 3/7, Rated R
Title: Gathered Together
Author: Courtney
Email: css576@yahoo.com
See part one for additional disclamiers and all that jazz.
“Long time, no see,” Archuleta commented as he stood just inside the room, his duffel bag still slung over one shoulder. Cook studied the younger man as if he hadn’t seen him in years. In truth, he didn’t look that much different than he had twelve months ago, but somehow, in Cook’s mind, he’d always stayed that sweet faced boy with the heart melting grin. Even now, he looked so much the same, and yet completely different. He had the same goofy smile, same crinkles around his eyes and the same full lips as the seventeen-year-old incarnation that Cook still saw in his mind. But this Archie was different, too. His face was more angular, his cheeks having lost their baby fat. He still didn’t have a great amount a facial hair, but Cook could see the beginnings of a five o’clock shadow on his chin, which was sparse, considering it was nearly 11 o’clock.
The man who had once been the boy was taller now, not quite reaching Cook’s 5’11, but probably topping out at around 5’9 or so. He’d also filled out considerably, his shoulders a little broader, his waist a little trimmer. He’d grown up . . . and Cook had mostly missed it all.
“It’s been a while, man,” Cook said.
“Yeah,” David agreed and at least his raspy voice and awkward pauses hadn’t changed.
“How’ve you been?” Cook asked.
“Good, really good. The tour in Australia was awesome.”
“You liked it over there, huh?”
“Yeah, but I missed being home,” he admitted. It was so much something he would say and Cook felt his throat tighten. “I missed you,” the younger man added and it was all Cook could do to keep breathing. “And the others,” he added hastily. “It was just lonely, I guess.”
“Yeah, I definitely know that feeling,” Cook admitted.
“So, everyone’s gone to bed already?” David asked.
Cook nodded. “Long day.”
“Are you getting ready to go to sleep soon?” the younger man asked and Cook was sure that he heard something in his voice, some hope that his answer would be no. He could have been five steps from comatose and he wouldn’t have been able to deny David the answer he longed for.
“Nah, it’s cool, I’ll stay up a while.”
David grinned his signature huge, goofy grin, that Cook still thought about every day. It made his heart hammer in his chest to be so close to that look again. He returned the grin as he reached out to help Archuleta with his bags.
* * * * *
They ended up in Cook’s room because they didn’t want to wake anyone else up, and, with all the other rooms filled, they figured David would have to bunk there anyway.
“It’s a big bed, that’s cool,” was the younger man’s only comment to the suggestion. Cook decided not to mention that the couch pulled out. Best not to tempt fate.
David’s day had started the day before in Australia, so he was running on no sleep and a massive case of jetlag. Still, he claimed there was no way he could sleep; he was way too jumpy after his long trip to close his eyes just yet. He ended up deciding to take a shower. Cook found things to keep him busy in the meantime. By the time David emerged, Cook had brought his suitcases in from outside and changed clothes, now wearing a pair of red and black plaid pajama pants and a black tee-shirt. David’s attire was similar. He’d put on a pair of blue pajama pants with big, yellow smiley faces covering them and a white tee-shirt that simply said ‘Happy’ in blue across the front.
It was innocent attire, for sure, but Cook couldn’t quite get past the rest of the picture. There was David Archuleta, fresh from his shower, his skin slightly red and his hair still damp. His shirt was clinging to him in just the slightest way, obviously a result of dressing in the steam filled bathroom. Cook commanded himself to breathe and to NOT ogle his friend. As was his habit, he deflected his own embarrassment with humor.
“Nice jammies,” Cook teased and David grinned, a soft blush radiating across his cheeks. “I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten so I brought you some leftover lasagna from dinner.” Cook gestured to the plate he’d sat on the bedside table.
“Gosh, thanks,” David replied. “I’m starving, actually. I don’t think I’ve eaten since leaving Sydney.” They ended up sitting on opposite sides of the bed; David cutting neatly into his lasagna and taking small, measured bites as Cook sat on the other side and tried his best not to watch.
To distract himself from staring, Cook filled the silence with conversation. He asked about David’s tour and how his family was doing and what kind of things he’d done in Australia. He tried not to let his jealousy register on his face when David mentioned the date he’d been on a few months before with a girl he met at church. He thought he also did a pretty good job reining in the look of relief when the younger man describe how awkward it had been, how he’d known before it was even over that the first date would be the last.
“So,” David said as he set his plate aside. Something in his voice told Cook that the tone of the conversation was about to change. He looked the younger man in the eye as David asked, “Can we talk about something?” He sounded tentative, as if he were afraid that Cook would say no.
“Sure,” Cook said cautiously. He searched David’s face for some sign of where this was leading.
David moved to the center of the bed, turning to face Cook in the process, and said, “Well, it’s just . . . ” he looked down at the bedspread, his finger tracing the pattern absently as his throat worked, as if he were trying to make the words spill forth.
Cook placed his hand over the younger man’s to get his attention. “Archie,” he said softly. “What is it?”
Archuleta looked up, finally meeting Cook’s eyes and seemed to steel himself. “Are we okay?” he asked, looking almost immediately shocked that he’d actually asked the question.
Cook knit his brows, studying the younger man’s face as if to search for clues. “What? What do you mean, of course we are,” he assured him. “What’s wrong?”
“I . . .” He shook his head, his eyes casting about for another point to focus on. They landed on Cook's necklace, the same one that he’d worn on Idol. “I’m worried that you’re drifting away from me,” he admitted. “The further away from Idol we get, the less I feel like I know you.” He stopped to heave a heavy breath, the air catching a little in his throat as he said, “I don’t want to lose you, David.”
Cook sat, stunned, having been completely unprepared for the confessions that his friend had just spilled. He figured this weekend would be like all of their time together had come to be. They’d hang around, talk about their careers and their families and the mundane things that you chat about with friends you see a few times a year. But, they wouldn’t talk about anything real. They wouldn’t have the same late night conversations that they’d had those last few weeks on Idol, when they stayed awake when they should have been sleeping, telling each other secret hopes and dreams that no one else in the world knew. Cook was sure that those days were gone and, as much as he regretted seeing them fall away, he’d convinced himself over time that it was for the best. But now, here was Archie, trudging up the past and bringing them back to where they’d left off, to the last time that Cook really felt alive and whole. He hadn’t realized until that moment how much he had missed that place.
“Archie,” he said, his breath barely a whisper. The younger man was back to studying the bedspread and Cook reached over to tilt his chin up until their eyes met. “You could never lose me,” he said. The relief that flooded Archuleta’s face brought tears to Cook’s eyes and he pulled the boy-man, he reminded himself-into a fierce hug. David buried his face against Cook’s neck as he returned the embrace. When the older man started to loosen his grip and release him, David clutch him tighter, letting Cook know that he wasn’t ready to let go.
“I miss you,” he said against Cook’s neck and the words were so soft that Cook wasn’t even sure if David knew he’d said them aloud. Either way, it didn’t matter to Cook. He leaned back, pulled David down with him until they were lying on the bed, still clutching each other.
The situation brought Cook back five years in time, to the night before the finale. Archie had come into his room, nervous and scared and already half hysterical. And Cook had taken him into his arms and told him that it would all be okay. They’d ended up in Cook’s bed; wound so tightly together that it was impossible for Cook to tell where one ended and the other began. That night, Cook knew that he was in over his head.
His efforts to distance himself from Archie had begun that night, really. He hadn’t wanted to do it, but it had ultimately been an act of self-preservation. He couldn’t stay so close to him and know that they couldn’t be together. And now, here they were, five years later, right back to where they’d left off that night.
Cook knew they should talk, maybe discuss what was happening between them, how their world was changing even in that very moment, but he couldn’t bring himself to tempt the gods with his voice. He was afraid that one word, one sound, might startle David back to reality and out of his arms. Even if this couldn’t last forever, Cook certainly wasn’t going to be the one to make it end.
He felt David breathing, felt their heartbeats mingling and running in synch. It was a rhythm that addicted him at once, making him long for more in an instant.
They stayed that way for what could have been five minutes or five days, holding onto each other and not saying a word, both content to feel the other so close. Finally, when Cook felt Archuleta’s breathing even out to signal that he had fallen asleep, he reached over and turned out the light.
That night, for the first time since he could remember, David Cook fell asleep smiling.
* * * * *
Part 4
Author: Courtney
Email: css576@yahoo.com
See part one for additional disclamiers and all that jazz.
“Long time, no see,” Archuleta commented as he stood just inside the room, his duffel bag still slung over one shoulder. Cook studied the younger man as if he hadn’t seen him in years. In truth, he didn’t look that much different than he had twelve months ago, but somehow, in Cook’s mind, he’d always stayed that sweet faced boy with the heart melting grin. Even now, he looked so much the same, and yet completely different. He had the same goofy smile, same crinkles around his eyes and the same full lips as the seventeen-year-old incarnation that Cook still saw in his mind. But this Archie was different, too. His face was more angular, his cheeks having lost their baby fat. He still didn’t have a great amount a facial hair, but Cook could see the beginnings of a five o’clock shadow on his chin, which was sparse, considering it was nearly 11 o’clock.
The man who had once been the boy was taller now, not quite reaching Cook’s 5’11, but probably topping out at around 5’9 or so. He’d also filled out considerably, his shoulders a little broader, his waist a little trimmer. He’d grown up . . . and Cook had mostly missed it all.
“It’s been a while, man,” Cook said.
“Yeah,” David agreed and at least his raspy voice and awkward pauses hadn’t changed.
“How’ve you been?” Cook asked.
“Good, really good. The tour in Australia was awesome.”
“You liked it over there, huh?”
“Yeah, but I missed being home,” he admitted. It was so much something he would say and Cook felt his throat tighten. “I missed you,” the younger man added and it was all Cook could do to keep breathing. “And the others,” he added hastily. “It was just lonely, I guess.”
“Yeah, I definitely know that feeling,” Cook admitted.
“So, everyone’s gone to bed already?” David asked.
Cook nodded. “Long day.”
“Are you getting ready to go to sleep soon?” the younger man asked and Cook was sure that he heard something in his voice, some hope that his answer would be no. He could have been five steps from comatose and he wouldn’t have been able to deny David the answer he longed for.
“Nah, it’s cool, I’ll stay up a while.”
David grinned his signature huge, goofy grin, that Cook still thought about every day. It made his heart hammer in his chest to be so close to that look again. He returned the grin as he reached out to help Archuleta with his bags.
* * * * *
They ended up in Cook’s room because they didn’t want to wake anyone else up, and, with all the other rooms filled, they figured David would have to bunk there anyway.
“It’s a big bed, that’s cool,” was the younger man’s only comment to the suggestion. Cook decided not to mention that the couch pulled out. Best not to tempt fate.
David’s day had started the day before in Australia, so he was running on no sleep and a massive case of jetlag. Still, he claimed there was no way he could sleep; he was way too jumpy after his long trip to close his eyes just yet. He ended up deciding to take a shower. Cook found things to keep him busy in the meantime. By the time David emerged, Cook had brought his suitcases in from outside and changed clothes, now wearing a pair of red and black plaid pajama pants and a black tee-shirt. David’s attire was similar. He’d put on a pair of blue pajama pants with big, yellow smiley faces covering them and a white tee-shirt that simply said ‘Happy’ in blue across the front.
It was innocent attire, for sure, but Cook couldn’t quite get past the rest of the picture. There was David Archuleta, fresh from his shower, his skin slightly red and his hair still damp. His shirt was clinging to him in just the slightest way, obviously a result of dressing in the steam filled bathroom. Cook commanded himself to breathe and to NOT ogle his friend. As was his habit, he deflected his own embarrassment with humor.
“Nice jammies,” Cook teased and David grinned, a soft blush radiating across his cheeks. “I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten so I brought you some leftover lasagna from dinner.” Cook gestured to the plate he’d sat on the bedside table.
“Gosh, thanks,” David replied. “I’m starving, actually. I don’t think I’ve eaten since leaving Sydney.” They ended up sitting on opposite sides of the bed; David cutting neatly into his lasagna and taking small, measured bites as Cook sat on the other side and tried his best not to watch.
To distract himself from staring, Cook filled the silence with conversation. He asked about David’s tour and how his family was doing and what kind of things he’d done in Australia. He tried not to let his jealousy register on his face when David mentioned the date he’d been on a few months before with a girl he met at church. He thought he also did a pretty good job reining in the look of relief when the younger man describe how awkward it had been, how he’d known before it was even over that the first date would be the last.
“So,” David said as he set his plate aside. Something in his voice told Cook that the tone of the conversation was about to change. He looked the younger man in the eye as David asked, “Can we talk about something?” He sounded tentative, as if he were afraid that Cook would say no.
“Sure,” Cook said cautiously. He searched David’s face for some sign of where this was leading.
David moved to the center of the bed, turning to face Cook in the process, and said, “Well, it’s just . . . ” he looked down at the bedspread, his finger tracing the pattern absently as his throat worked, as if he were trying to make the words spill forth.
Cook placed his hand over the younger man’s to get his attention. “Archie,” he said softly. “What is it?”
Archuleta looked up, finally meeting Cook’s eyes and seemed to steel himself. “Are we okay?” he asked, looking almost immediately shocked that he’d actually asked the question.
Cook knit his brows, studying the younger man’s face as if to search for clues. “What? What do you mean, of course we are,” he assured him. “What’s wrong?”
“I . . .” He shook his head, his eyes casting about for another point to focus on. They landed on Cook's necklace, the same one that he’d worn on Idol. “I’m worried that you’re drifting away from me,” he admitted. “The further away from Idol we get, the less I feel like I know you.” He stopped to heave a heavy breath, the air catching a little in his throat as he said, “I don’t want to lose you, David.”
Cook sat, stunned, having been completely unprepared for the confessions that his friend had just spilled. He figured this weekend would be like all of their time together had come to be. They’d hang around, talk about their careers and their families and the mundane things that you chat about with friends you see a few times a year. But, they wouldn’t talk about anything real. They wouldn’t have the same late night conversations that they’d had those last few weeks on Idol, when they stayed awake when they should have been sleeping, telling each other secret hopes and dreams that no one else in the world knew. Cook was sure that those days were gone and, as much as he regretted seeing them fall away, he’d convinced himself over time that it was for the best. But now, here was Archie, trudging up the past and bringing them back to where they’d left off, to the last time that Cook really felt alive and whole. He hadn’t realized until that moment how much he had missed that place.
“Archie,” he said, his breath barely a whisper. The younger man was back to studying the bedspread and Cook reached over to tilt his chin up until their eyes met. “You could never lose me,” he said. The relief that flooded Archuleta’s face brought tears to Cook’s eyes and he pulled the boy-man, he reminded himself-into a fierce hug. David buried his face against Cook’s neck as he returned the embrace. When the older man started to loosen his grip and release him, David clutch him tighter, letting Cook know that he wasn’t ready to let go.
“I miss you,” he said against Cook’s neck and the words were so soft that Cook wasn’t even sure if David knew he’d said them aloud. Either way, it didn’t matter to Cook. He leaned back, pulled David down with him until they were lying on the bed, still clutching each other.
The situation brought Cook back five years in time, to the night before the finale. Archie had come into his room, nervous and scared and already half hysterical. And Cook had taken him into his arms and told him that it would all be okay. They’d ended up in Cook’s bed; wound so tightly together that it was impossible for Cook to tell where one ended and the other began. That night, Cook knew that he was in over his head.
His efforts to distance himself from Archie had begun that night, really. He hadn’t wanted to do it, but it had ultimately been an act of self-preservation. He couldn’t stay so close to him and know that they couldn’t be together. And now, here they were, five years later, right back to where they’d left off that night.
Cook knew they should talk, maybe discuss what was happening between them, how their world was changing even in that very moment, but he couldn’t bring himself to tempt the gods with his voice. He was afraid that one word, one sound, might startle David back to reality and out of his arms. Even if this couldn’t last forever, Cook certainly wasn’t going to be the one to make it end.
He felt David breathing, felt their heartbeats mingling and running in synch. It was a rhythm that addicted him at once, making him long for more in an instant.
They stayed that way for what could have been five minutes or five days, holding onto each other and not saying a word, both content to feel the other so close. Finally, when Cook felt Archuleta’s breathing even out to signal that he had fallen asleep, he reached over and turned out the light.
That night, for the first time since he could remember, David Cook fell asleep smiling.
* * * * *
Part 4