Fic: Gathered Together, 4/7, Rated R
Title: Gathered Together
Author: Courtney
Email: css576@yahoo.com
See part one for additional disclamiers and all that jazz.
He woke up alone. A glance at the watch that Archuleta had left by the bed told him that it was just after 9 o’clock in the morning. Stretching as he sat, Cook swung his legs over the edge of the bed and rose. After quickly brushing his teeth, he padded barefoot from the room, still in his pajamas.
From the top of the stairs, he could see several of his friends in the living room below. Ramiele sat on one of the oversized chairs, her petite frame only occupying about a third of it. She looked like she hadn’t been awake long and smiled lazily at Cook as he approached.
Jason and Syesha were also there. Jason sat on the couch strumming a guitar and humming softly as Syesha lay across the same couch, her head resting in his lap. “Hey Cook,” she greeted him with a wave. “Sleep well?”
He returned the smile and said, “You have no idea. You guys seen Archie this morning?” he asked as he plopped down in the chair with Ramiele and flung an arm across her shoulders.
“Just missed him,” Syesha replied. “He left with the Brooke and Dave about ten minutes ago. They went to get breakfast.”
“Donuts!” Ramiele added with a grin.
“I thought you guys went to the store yesterday to stock the kitchen?” Cook asked Ramiele.
“We didn’t get any donuts,” she explained.
“Hmm. So, where are the lovebirds this morning? Sleeping in?”
Jason stopped humming and grinned widely. With a chuckle he replied, “Yeah, maybe now.” Cook looked at him quizzically and he added, “You totally missed the show at about eight this morning, dude. Those two are *loud*!”
“Jase,” Syesha chastised as she shook her head against his thigh. “They’re getting married tomorrow; cut them some slack.”
Ramiele leaned closer to Cook’s ear and confided, “It was pretty loud.”
He laughed, already relishing the mileage he’d get out of this next time Michael started in on him about something. “Sorry I missed it.”
“Breakfast is here,” called Brooke’s voice as the sound of the front door opening and closing was heard.
“Donuts!” Ramiele squealed and rushed from Cook’s side to the promised pasties. Cook looked to the entryway to see the three figures that entered from the foyer, his eyes immediately seeking out David Archuleta. When he saw him, he smiled. The younger man spotted him and his answering beam was radiant.
Everyone moved into the living room, the table soon covered by donut boxes and stacks of napkins. Brooke went to the kitchen for paper plates, but Ramiele already had a mouthful of powdered sugar. “I’m not sure she needs more sugar,” Archuleta commented softly as he sat beside Cook in the seat that the tiny girl had abandoned for baked confections. Cook’s fingers twitched as their thighs brushed, but he managed to keep his hands to himself. He still wanted to get Archie alone and find out exactly where they stood after the events of the night before.
“She’ll probably run around in circles later to burn it off,” Cook quipped in David’s ear, his comment causing the younger man to giggle even as his breath against his ear made him shiver. “I missed you this morning,” Cook confided, then immediately wondered how the hell his internal filter had let that one slip. It was too late to reel his words back in, so he cut his eyes to David to gauge his reaction. The younger man’s mouth twitched up at the corners as he blushed to the roots of his hair and looked like he was formulating a response. Cook was trying not to think about how far down that blush traveled, when Jason interrupted the moment.
“You two want to share with the class?” he asked the whispering pair.
David looked mildly panicked, but Cook just shook his head nonchalantly and replied, “Sorry, top secret.” Jason rolled his eyes and Cook reached forward to snag a blueberry cake donut. He made sure that his thigh was still pressed tightly to David’s as they ate.
By the time that Michael and Carly emerged from their room, the donuts were more than half-gone and Brooke and Ramiele had both gone to take showers. Syesha was back to lounging in Jason’s lap as he strummed his guitar and Brooke’s husband Dave was engaged in a discussion with Archuleta about some movie they’d both recently seen. Cook was just sitting by silently, wondering idly if anyone thought it was strange that he and David were still sharing the chair even after several other seats had opened up. If they did, he couldn’t bring himself to care.
When he saw Michael trudging down the stairs, Cook let out a wolf whistle and he and Jason both began to applaud. Carly, coming down right behind him, let out a bark of embarrassed laughter and hid behind Michael’s back.
“This is a nice place; didn’t realize we got Skinamax,” Cook taunted his two friends.
“Oh Jesus, I told you they’d hear us,” Carly said as she swatted at Michael.
He shrugged, pulling her into his arms and replying, “They’re just jealous, love. You know Davey and Jase have always been hot for my body.” He laughed and pulled Carly down onto a chair with him, then grabbed a half-empty donut box. He offered one to Carly, but she shook her head, levering herself off of his lap as she said something about coffee. She was turning towards the kitchen when she finally realized who was sharing Cook’s chair.
“Oh my God, ARCHIE!” she shrieked and ran over to pull him up into her arms. “I’m so glad that you made it! Did you just get in this morning?”
“Uh, no, last night, actually,” he told her as he returned the bone-crushing hug.
“Last night? After we went to sleep? I’m sorry no one was awake to greet you,” she said as she released him and he sank back into the chair beside Cook.
“Well,” he fidgeted, “actually, David was still up. We, uh, caught up for a while.”
Michael muttered around the donut in his mouth, “Skinamax, indeed,” and shot Cook an evil grin. Cook fixed him with a death glare and Michael threw a donut hole at him.
Carly sighed, throwing up her hands as she moved from the line of fire. “Oh, for the love of caffeine, I need a bloody coffee,” she said as she headed for the kitchen.
* * * * *
It was nearly 11 o’clock by the time that Cook emerged from the shower that day. His donut fight with Michael had ended abruptly as soon as Brooke had reentered the room. Throwing food in front of the others was one thing, but Cook knew better than to mess with Brooke. She’d spent the better part of her life wrangling unruly children; he and Michael were no match for her.
By the time they’d cleaned up their mess, the slightly awkward comments of the Australian man had fallen by the wayside. Cook knew, of course, that he was only letting it slide for the time being. Michael Johns had a memory to rival an elephant, especially when it came to anything that might possibly embarrass one of his closest friends.
Cook wiped away a patch of steam from the mirror and contemplated his reflection. Still the same face, he thought. Maybe a few wrinkles here and there, and the circles under his eyes were certainly more prominent than they used to be, but, all in all, he hadn’t changed too drastically in five years time.
At least, not on the outside.
He sighed as his thoughts turned back to David and the events of the previous night. He’d woken up so happy that morning, but now he was starting to rethink everything. Maybe he was misreading the younger man. Archuleta had always been sensitive and had always been very attached to the things that made him feel safe. Perhaps that’s what Cook was to him, a walking, talking, stubbled security blanket.
But, try as he might, Cook couldn’t forget the feel of Archie curled up in his arms the previous night. Not even a chaste kiss had passed between them, and yet Cook had never felt so intimately connected to another person in his life. He wasn’t sure how he’d move forward if the younger man didn't feel the same way.
A knock on the door broke his thoughts and Cook called, “Yeah, it’s opened.”
The door was pushed slowly inward and David peeked his head cautiously around it. “Um, the others are going skiing,” he said, averting his eyes almost immediately as he saw that Cook was still wearing nothing but his towel. “Do you, um, do you want to go?”
Cook had never been a big fan of winter sports. He preferred basketball or baseball to strapping sticks to his feet and dodging trees on a mountain. “Nah,” he replied. “I think I’ll pass.” Raising his eyebrows, he asked, “You going?”
David hesitated for a second, then shook his head. “No, I think I’ll stay here.”
Cook smiled warmly and replied, “Good.”
When Cook came out of the bathroom, the bedroom was once again empty. David seemed to be disappearing a lot lately. Cook pulled on some clean clothes, ran his hands through his damp hair, then headed downstairs.
When he walked into the kitchen, he found who he was looking for. Archuleta turned as he entered and smiled. “Hey.”
Cook returned the smile. “Hey there. So, it’s just us, huh?” He wondered belatedly if that had sounded suggestive.
“Yeah, they said they’d be back in a couple of hours.” Cook tried valiantly not to think about what the two of them could accomplish in a couple of hours. “So, uh, I was making some iced tea,” David said. “Would you like some?”
“Sure,” Cook replied. He watched as David finished stirring the tea and took out two glasses, filling each halfway with ice and then adding the golden brown liquid. He handed Cook one of the cool glasses and their fingers brushed briefly in the exchange. Cook thought it did not speak well for his willpower how much of an effect even that slight touch had on him. He stuttered out a thank you, feeling like a fifteen-year-old boy in the presence of the head cheerleader.
David took a seat at one of the tall stools that lined the center island and Cook stood on the opposite side and leaned his elbows against the butcher-block surface. “Thanks,” he heard, and looked up to see if he’d imagined the sound.
David was looking at him steadily. “Thanks,” he repeated, “for last night. I mean, I know I kind of had a meltdown and you were cool about it. Just like always,” he added with an embarrassed grin. “I just wanted to say thank you.”
“I didn’t do it for you.”
David looked up sharply, his features etched with shock at the seemingly harsh words. Before he could form a reply, Cook continued.
“It wasn’t your imagination. Things have been different. I’ve pulled away . . . or pushed you away . . . I’m not even sure which one anymore. But, what I do know is that I’m tired of it. I’m tired of running and hiding and I’m tired of lying to myself.” Cook was surprising himself with these words as much as he was surprising David, but once he started speaking it was like the words took on a life of their own. He had to get this out, once and for all. He’d just worry about the consequences when it was all over.
“I don’t want to be friends with you anymore,” Cook said simply. He pushed forward, not daring to pause long enough for a reply. “I want more than that from you, Archie. I think I always have.”
When Cook finally stopped speaking, he realized how loudly his heart was beating. The sound thudded through his ears like a drum and all he could do was watch the man across from him and think, ‘Say something. Say something.’
His blind terror at the prospect of what was to come distracted him just enough from his companion for the younger man to make it halfway around the island without Cook being cognizant of it. He just blinked and David was half a foot away. He looked petrified, but visibly steeled himself before he whispered, “I’ve been in love with you for five years.”
Cook thought he might have lost consciousness for a second. He felt sure that he had imagined the words. It was all too much, too wonderful and too perfect and he had a sudden, sinking fear that the other shoe was getting ready to drop and it would all disappear as quickly as it had begun. He stared at David, mouth agape, and waited for the fallout.
“Say something,” David prodded and Cook could tell that the younger man was nervous now, all of his courage having been put into saying those words. Cook swallowed deeply and shook his head, the corners of his mouth turning up in a grin.
All he could think to say was, “Really?”
David looked confused, and then something in Cook’s expression seemed to calm him. He returned the smile and said sheepishly, “Yeah, really.”
Suddenly they couldn’t stop looking at each other. Cook could practically feel the invisible barrier between them crumbling. His smile relaxed until he was just watching David, staring at him. He stepped forward, reaching out to grab the younger man’s hand. David turned his own palm over, lacing his fingers with Cook’s and looking down at their joined hands.
They didn’t need to talk about what came next. Cook could feel the pull between them, drawing him closer to what he’d always wanted, to the one thing he’d always run from. They were face to face now, toes brushing against one another and hands still clasped. David looked into Cook’s eyes, licked his lips in that habit that had always driven Cook wild, and Cook leaned forward. He could feel David’s breath on his lips and-
“Davey! Archie! Where are you guys?” they heard and David jumped so far backwards that his back hit the countertop behind him. Cook looked up to see Michael enter the kitchen. Michael looked from one man to the other, and then back again, and gave Cook a quizzical look. “What’s up guys?”
“Um . . . hey,” David stammered. “I was . . .I mean, we were, um . . . Iced tea!” he said, those last two words delivered in a voice entirely too loud. “Would you like some?”
“Uh, no, thanks,” Michael replied. Cook could see that he was obviously curious as to what he’d walked in on.
“I’ve gotta go!” Archie said quickly. “I mean, I’m going to take a shower. I’ll, um, yeah.” And, with that, he turned and brushed past Michael and out the door.
Michael was left looking after him, seeming a little shell-shocked by the entire exchange. “What just happened here?” he asked Cook.
Cook sighed and shook his head as he replied, “You killed my mojo.”
* * * * *
Part 5
Author: Courtney
Email: css576@yahoo.com
See part one for additional disclamiers and all that jazz.
He woke up alone. A glance at the watch that Archuleta had left by the bed told him that it was just after 9 o’clock in the morning. Stretching as he sat, Cook swung his legs over the edge of the bed and rose. After quickly brushing his teeth, he padded barefoot from the room, still in his pajamas.
From the top of the stairs, he could see several of his friends in the living room below. Ramiele sat on one of the oversized chairs, her petite frame only occupying about a third of it. She looked like she hadn’t been awake long and smiled lazily at Cook as he approached.
Jason and Syesha were also there. Jason sat on the couch strumming a guitar and humming softly as Syesha lay across the same couch, her head resting in his lap. “Hey Cook,” she greeted him with a wave. “Sleep well?”
He returned the smile and said, “You have no idea. You guys seen Archie this morning?” he asked as he plopped down in the chair with Ramiele and flung an arm across her shoulders.
“Just missed him,” Syesha replied. “He left with the Brooke and Dave about ten minutes ago. They went to get breakfast.”
“Donuts!” Ramiele added with a grin.
“I thought you guys went to the store yesterday to stock the kitchen?” Cook asked Ramiele.
“We didn’t get any donuts,” she explained.
“Hmm. So, where are the lovebirds this morning? Sleeping in?”
Jason stopped humming and grinned widely. With a chuckle he replied, “Yeah, maybe now.” Cook looked at him quizzically and he added, “You totally missed the show at about eight this morning, dude. Those two are *loud*!”
“Jase,” Syesha chastised as she shook her head against his thigh. “They’re getting married tomorrow; cut them some slack.”
Ramiele leaned closer to Cook’s ear and confided, “It was pretty loud.”
He laughed, already relishing the mileage he’d get out of this next time Michael started in on him about something. “Sorry I missed it.”
“Breakfast is here,” called Brooke’s voice as the sound of the front door opening and closing was heard.
“Donuts!” Ramiele squealed and rushed from Cook’s side to the promised pasties. Cook looked to the entryway to see the three figures that entered from the foyer, his eyes immediately seeking out David Archuleta. When he saw him, he smiled. The younger man spotted him and his answering beam was radiant.
Everyone moved into the living room, the table soon covered by donut boxes and stacks of napkins. Brooke went to the kitchen for paper plates, but Ramiele already had a mouthful of powdered sugar. “I’m not sure she needs more sugar,” Archuleta commented softly as he sat beside Cook in the seat that the tiny girl had abandoned for baked confections. Cook’s fingers twitched as their thighs brushed, but he managed to keep his hands to himself. He still wanted to get Archie alone and find out exactly where they stood after the events of the night before.
“She’ll probably run around in circles later to burn it off,” Cook quipped in David’s ear, his comment causing the younger man to giggle even as his breath against his ear made him shiver. “I missed you this morning,” Cook confided, then immediately wondered how the hell his internal filter had let that one slip. It was too late to reel his words back in, so he cut his eyes to David to gauge his reaction. The younger man’s mouth twitched up at the corners as he blushed to the roots of his hair and looked like he was formulating a response. Cook was trying not to think about how far down that blush traveled, when Jason interrupted the moment.
“You two want to share with the class?” he asked the whispering pair.
David looked mildly panicked, but Cook just shook his head nonchalantly and replied, “Sorry, top secret.” Jason rolled his eyes and Cook reached forward to snag a blueberry cake donut. He made sure that his thigh was still pressed tightly to David’s as they ate.
By the time that Michael and Carly emerged from their room, the donuts were more than half-gone and Brooke and Ramiele had both gone to take showers. Syesha was back to lounging in Jason’s lap as he strummed his guitar and Brooke’s husband Dave was engaged in a discussion with Archuleta about some movie they’d both recently seen. Cook was just sitting by silently, wondering idly if anyone thought it was strange that he and David were still sharing the chair even after several other seats had opened up. If they did, he couldn’t bring himself to care.
When he saw Michael trudging down the stairs, Cook let out a wolf whistle and he and Jason both began to applaud. Carly, coming down right behind him, let out a bark of embarrassed laughter and hid behind Michael’s back.
“This is a nice place; didn’t realize we got Skinamax,” Cook taunted his two friends.
“Oh Jesus, I told you they’d hear us,” Carly said as she swatted at Michael.
He shrugged, pulling her into his arms and replying, “They’re just jealous, love. You know Davey and Jase have always been hot for my body.” He laughed and pulled Carly down onto a chair with him, then grabbed a half-empty donut box. He offered one to Carly, but she shook her head, levering herself off of his lap as she said something about coffee. She was turning towards the kitchen when she finally realized who was sharing Cook’s chair.
“Oh my God, ARCHIE!” she shrieked and ran over to pull him up into her arms. “I’m so glad that you made it! Did you just get in this morning?”
“Uh, no, last night, actually,” he told her as he returned the bone-crushing hug.
“Last night? After we went to sleep? I’m sorry no one was awake to greet you,” she said as she released him and he sank back into the chair beside Cook.
“Well,” he fidgeted, “actually, David was still up. We, uh, caught up for a while.”
Michael muttered around the donut in his mouth, “Skinamax, indeed,” and shot Cook an evil grin. Cook fixed him with a death glare and Michael threw a donut hole at him.
Carly sighed, throwing up her hands as she moved from the line of fire. “Oh, for the love of caffeine, I need a bloody coffee,” she said as she headed for the kitchen.
* * * * *
It was nearly 11 o’clock by the time that Cook emerged from the shower that day. His donut fight with Michael had ended abruptly as soon as Brooke had reentered the room. Throwing food in front of the others was one thing, but Cook knew better than to mess with Brooke. She’d spent the better part of her life wrangling unruly children; he and Michael were no match for her.
By the time they’d cleaned up their mess, the slightly awkward comments of the Australian man had fallen by the wayside. Cook knew, of course, that he was only letting it slide for the time being. Michael Johns had a memory to rival an elephant, especially when it came to anything that might possibly embarrass one of his closest friends.
Cook wiped away a patch of steam from the mirror and contemplated his reflection. Still the same face, he thought. Maybe a few wrinkles here and there, and the circles under his eyes were certainly more prominent than they used to be, but, all in all, he hadn’t changed too drastically in five years time.
At least, not on the outside.
He sighed as his thoughts turned back to David and the events of the previous night. He’d woken up so happy that morning, but now he was starting to rethink everything. Maybe he was misreading the younger man. Archuleta had always been sensitive and had always been very attached to the things that made him feel safe. Perhaps that’s what Cook was to him, a walking, talking, stubbled security blanket.
But, try as he might, Cook couldn’t forget the feel of Archie curled up in his arms the previous night. Not even a chaste kiss had passed between them, and yet Cook had never felt so intimately connected to another person in his life. He wasn’t sure how he’d move forward if the younger man didn't feel the same way.
A knock on the door broke his thoughts and Cook called, “Yeah, it’s opened.”
The door was pushed slowly inward and David peeked his head cautiously around it. “Um, the others are going skiing,” he said, averting his eyes almost immediately as he saw that Cook was still wearing nothing but his towel. “Do you, um, do you want to go?”
Cook had never been a big fan of winter sports. He preferred basketball or baseball to strapping sticks to his feet and dodging trees on a mountain. “Nah,” he replied. “I think I’ll pass.” Raising his eyebrows, he asked, “You going?”
David hesitated for a second, then shook his head. “No, I think I’ll stay here.”
Cook smiled warmly and replied, “Good.”
When Cook came out of the bathroom, the bedroom was once again empty. David seemed to be disappearing a lot lately. Cook pulled on some clean clothes, ran his hands through his damp hair, then headed downstairs.
When he walked into the kitchen, he found who he was looking for. Archuleta turned as he entered and smiled. “Hey.”
Cook returned the smile. “Hey there. So, it’s just us, huh?” He wondered belatedly if that had sounded suggestive.
“Yeah, they said they’d be back in a couple of hours.” Cook tried valiantly not to think about what the two of them could accomplish in a couple of hours. “So, uh, I was making some iced tea,” David said. “Would you like some?”
“Sure,” Cook replied. He watched as David finished stirring the tea and took out two glasses, filling each halfway with ice and then adding the golden brown liquid. He handed Cook one of the cool glasses and their fingers brushed briefly in the exchange. Cook thought it did not speak well for his willpower how much of an effect even that slight touch had on him. He stuttered out a thank you, feeling like a fifteen-year-old boy in the presence of the head cheerleader.
David took a seat at one of the tall stools that lined the center island and Cook stood on the opposite side and leaned his elbows against the butcher-block surface. “Thanks,” he heard, and looked up to see if he’d imagined the sound.
David was looking at him steadily. “Thanks,” he repeated, “for last night. I mean, I know I kind of had a meltdown and you were cool about it. Just like always,” he added with an embarrassed grin. “I just wanted to say thank you.”
“I didn’t do it for you.”
David looked up sharply, his features etched with shock at the seemingly harsh words. Before he could form a reply, Cook continued.
“It wasn’t your imagination. Things have been different. I’ve pulled away . . . or pushed you away . . . I’m not even sure which one anymore. But, what I do know is that I’m tired of it. I’m tired of running and hiding and I’m tired of lying to myself.” Cook was surprising himself with these words as much as he was surprising David, but once he started speaking it was like the words took on a life of their own. He had to get this out, once and for all. He’d just worry about the consequences when it was all over.
“I don’t want to be friends with you anymore,” Cook said simply. He pushed forward, not daring to pause long enough for a reply. “I want more than that from you, Archie. I think I always have.”
When Cook finally stopped speaking, he realized how loudly his heart was beating. The sound thudded through his ears like a drum and all he could do was watch the man across from him and think, ‘Say something. Say something.’
His blind terror at the prospect of what was to come distracted him just enough from his companion for the younger man to make it halfway around the island without Cook being cognizant of it. He just blinked and David was half a foot away. He looked petrified, but visibly steeled himself before he whispered, “I’ve been in love with you for five years.”
Cook thought he might have lost consciousness for a second. He felt sure that he had imagined the words. It was all too much, too wonderful and too perfect and he had a sudden, sinking fear that the other shoe was getting ready to drop and it would all disappear as quickly as it had begun. He stared at David, mouth agape, and waited for the fallout.
“Say something,” David prodded and Cook could tell that the younger man was nervous now, all of his courage having been put into saying those words. Cook swallowed deeply and shook his head, the corners of his mouth turning up in a grin.
All he could think to say was, “Really?”
David looked confused, and then something in Cook’s expression seemed to calm him. He returned the smile and said sheepishly, “Yeah, really.”
Suddenly they couldn’t stop looking at each other. Cook could practically feel the invisible barrier between them crumbling. His smile relaxed until he was just watching David, staring at him. He stepped forward, reaching out to grab the younger man’s hand. David turned his own palm over, lacing his fingers with Cook’s and looking down at their joined hands.
They didn’t need to talk about what came next. Cook could feel the pull between them, drawing him closer to what he’d always wanted, to the one thing he’d always run from. They were face to face now, toes brushing against one another and hands still clasped. David looked into Cook’s eyes, licked his lips in that habit that had always driven Cook wild, and Cook leaned forward. He could feel David’s breath on his lips and-
“Davey! Archie! Where are you guys?” they heard and David jumped so far backwards that his back hit the countertop behind him. Cook looked up to see Michael enter the kitchen. Michael looked from one man to the other, and then back again, and gave Cook a quizzical look. “What’s up guys?”
“Um . . . hey,” David stammered. “I was . . .I mean, we were, um . . . Iced tea!” he said, those last two words delivered in a voice entirely too loud. “Would you like some?”
“Uh, no, thanks,” Michael replied. Cook could see that he was obviously curious as to what he’d walked in on.
“I’ve gotta go!” Archie said quickly. “I mean, I’m going to take a shower. I’ll, um, yeah.” And, with that, he turned and brushed past Michael and out the door.
Michael was left looking after him, seeming a little shell-shocked by the entire exchange. “What just happened here?” he asked Cook.
Cook sighed and shook his head as he replied, “You killed my mojo.”
* * * * *
Part 5