The First Is the Last - Cookleta Fic
The First Is the Last
By: foreverlove1129
Rating: PG
Summary: Archie begins to question his feelings for Cook.
Disclaimer: I don’t own them. If I did they’d both be chained to my bedposts.
Author's Note: I saw a picture of Cook the other day where you could see his chest hair and somehow this random fic happened. lol. Hope you like!
1.
The first time I noticed, I stared. I sat there in the small cramped booth of the restaurant, squeezed between Carly and Brooke and literally stared.
Minutes, years, centuries later someone called my name and I spluttered, eyes suddenly wide and face bright red.
“Whatcha looking at baby boy?” Michael asked, laughing into his beer.
I mumbled something about being tired and dozing off and that was enough to send Carly and Brooke into super-maternal mode. A moment later I was being pulled off to the hotel for “a good night’s sleep” courtesy of Carly and Brooke.
Later that night, lying in bed staring at the ceiling, I replayed the night in the mind, over and over and over and over. Saw back to the laughter in his eyes and the way he leaned across the table when he spoke directly to me and when he finally got hot and undid the first few buttons on his shirt and I noticed…
Cook wasn’t just my friend, wasn’t just some dorky rocker wannabe from Tulsa.
I saw back to the smooth skin of his neck, leading down into the shadowed chest between the open buttons. It was stupid of me to be surprised because Cook was like twenty-five years old and of course, unlike me, he’d actually finished puberty. Just if I didn’t feel like a kid enough and even worse to be turned on by it, uh! Was the whole universe against me? So yeah it was true. Cook was attractive and…
He had chest hair. Dark, smooth chest hair and so I maybe wondered what it would feel like. That’s not weird, right? I’m just a kid and my own chest is completely smooth and hairless and yeah if I didn’t look enough like a girl already, right? So I was interested by it.
Turned out Cook was something I’d sort of forgotten to notice - He was a man.
2.
The second time I think maybe Cook is something more than a friend to me is when I notice the door thing. And okay it’s really weird cause of course only I would analyze doors, but still, I think it holds some credibility.
When Cook walked through a door before me he held it open for me, let me go in first.
Yeah, I know, what a gentleman right? Wrong. After the first time I noticed, I watched, really watched. When Cook went through a door before Michael or Jason or Chikezie or any other member of the male gender he went first. He never held the door and gestured for Michael to go in before him. Never. And I watched, okay?
So, yeah it’s weird.
My mom liked old movies. One’s where the heroine is always sweet, but sassy. Delicate, but strong. And her suitor is always a perfect gentleman. Kisses her hand and whispers sweet words into her ear and holds doors open for her. And, okay, maybe I have seen a few too many of them with my mom, but…maybe Cook is doing that. Maybe…just maybe…
Cook was courting me.
3.
By the third time I noticed, I’d created a list. A systematic filing system for all Cook related matters because Cook was…confusing and things were less confusing when they were down on paper.
Cook thought I was pretty.
At least that’s what Carly told me and she wasn’t laughing or anything when she said it, just doing that weird tingly smile that she does so I knew she was telling the truth.
And boys like girls who they think are pretty. So…
I tore up the list and started over on a new piece of paper. I tried to think of an equation that would allow me to solve this.
Chest hair + Holding doors + Pretty = ???
And maybe I did know the answer, maybe I was just too afraid to write it down because just because something made sense on a piece of paper didn’t mean it made sense in real life.
Cook was…confusing because he was like the best friend I’d ever had, but when he held a door open for me and I walked past him and smelt his cologne I…
I forgot that he was just my friend.
4.
It happens during one of the final stops on the tour.
We’re all sitting around on the bus afterwards, still riding the adrenaline high from the show that night when everyone decides to play truth or dare. And childish games I can so do. I was the master of ‘truth’ back home with my friends.
The game goes around the circle until suddenly Cook is sitting right across from me asking, “Archie, truth or dare?”
And I say what I always say. “Truth.” Which was really very stupid because this was Cook and even though I loved him like a…brother that didn’t mean he wouldn’t take every chance possible to humiliate me.
He looks around thoughtfully, a hand on his chin, before his eyes suddenly light up with glee.
“Okay, got it! Who do you think is the most attractive person on the tour?”
Nine pairs of eyes look curiously at me, all the girls fluttering their eye lashes at me jokingly. I gulp because I cannot tell a lie. Ever. I just can’t.
“Can I answer myself?” I ask jokingly, hoping to distract from the question.
Cook’s uproarious laughter is worth the red staining my cheeks. “Okay, second most attractive?”
And I told you, I can’t lie. It’s like part of my genetic makeup. So I do the only thing I can possibly do. I cover my face with my hands and mutter my answer.
Cook stops laughing immediately. There’s a moment of stunned silence where everyone looks at me incredulously before suddenly everyone is laughing harder than ever before.
All except Cook. He sits there staring at me, like…like he’s never seen me before.
“What did you say?”
I feel the tears burning the back of my throat.
“You Cook. I said you.”
5.
The last time it happens is the first time for something else.
He sits next to me on the couch of his new home’s living room. He’s singing his new song for me. Thighs pressed together, eyes glued to Cook’s fingers strumming the strings, practically crying from the intensity of his voice because this is Cook and Cook is nothing if not intense.
He finishes and looks over at me. I swallow. He leans closer and for a crazy moment I think he’s going to kiss me but instead he grabs the notebook on the table behind me and looks thoughtfully over the music notes scribbled on it. He scratches his head and looks up from beneath his lashes, looking suddenly shy.
“What do you think?”
And how do you put into words what you feel when your heart is practically bursting from holding so much into such a small body? How do you tell a man that every last love song and perfect melody he’s ever sang has been the catalyst to every fantasy and daydream you’ve ever had?
“It’s…p-perfect.” And there goes my voice again.
He smiles, like it’s the best compliment he’s even gotten. He lies the guitar down on the coffee table and shifts closer. I almost move back, but his hand on my leg freezes me in place.
“Good because it’s…it’s for you.”
And then his face is suddenly out of focus because he’s so much closer and…and his lips are brushing tentatively against mine. I suck in a breath, hand immediately locking onto the fabric of his shirt as a lifeline because only I could have a panic attack during my first kiss.
His lips gently, but firmly press into mine. He tilts his head and suddenly it’s the perfect angle and, oh, I’d always wondered why people liked kissing so much.
He pulls back a second later and his hand cups mine against his chest.
He’s smiling. Not just his lips but his whole face. And okay, maybe the list and the equation didn’t answer any questions for me, but this did.
“Okay?” he asks.
My hand unclenches from his shirt and goes up to the nape of his neck. I smile as I lean up towards his lips. “Okay.”
And the last time I question my relationship with Cook is the first time it really starts.
By: foreverlove1129
Rating: PG
Summary: Archie begins to question his feelings for Cook.
Disclaimer: I don’t own them. If I did they’d both be chained to my bedposts.
Author's Note: I saw a picture of Cook the other day where you could see his chest hair and somehow this random fic happened. lol. Hope you like!
1.
The first time I noticed, I stared. I sat there in the small cramped booth of the restaurant, squeezed between Carly and Brooke and literally stared.
Minutes, years, centuries later someone called my name and I spluttered, eyes suddenly wide and face bright red.
“Whatcha looking at baby boy?” Michael asked, laughing into his beer.
I mumbled something about being tired and dozing off and that was enough to send Carly and Brooke into super-maternal mode. A moment later I was being pulled off to the hotel for “a good night’s sleep” courtesy of Carly and Brooke.
Later that night, lying in bed staring at the ceiling, I replayed the night in the mind, over and over and over and over. Saw back to the laughter in his eyes and the way he leaned across the table when he spoke directly to me and when he finally got hot and undid the first few buttons on his shirt and I noticed…
Cook wasn’t just my friend, wasn’t just some dorky rocker wannabe from Tulsa.
I saw back to the smooth skin of his neck, leading down into the shadowed chest between the open buttons. It was stupid of me to be surprised because Cook was like twenty-five years old and of course, unlike me, he’d actually finished puberty. Just if I didn’t feel like a kid enough and even worse to be turned on by it, uh! Was the whole universe against me? So yeah it was true. Cook was attractive and…
He had chest hair. Dark, smooth chest hair and so I maybe wondered what it would feel like. That’s not weird, right? I’m just a kid and my own chest is completely smooth and hairless and yeah if I didn’t look enough like a girl already, right? So I was interested by it.
Turned out Cook was something I’d sort of forgotten to notice - He was a man.
2.
The second time I think maybe Cook is something more than a friend to me is when I notice the door thing. And okay it’s really weird cause of course only I would analyze doors, but still, I think it holds some credibility.
When Cook walked through a door before me he held it open for me, let me go in first.
Yeah, I know, what a gentleman right? Wrong. After the first time I noticed, I watched, really watched. When Cook went through a door before Michael or Jason or Chikezie or any other member of the male gender he went first. He never held the door and gestured for Michael to go in before him. Never. And I watched, okay?
So, yeah it’s weird.
My mom liked old movies. One’s where the heroine is always sweet, but sassy. Delicate, but strong. And her suitor is always a perfect gentleman. Kisses her hand and whispers sweet words into her ear and holds doors open for her. And, okay, maybe I have seen a few too many of them with my mom, but…maybe Cook is doing that. Maybe…just maybe…
Cook was courting me.
3.
By the third time I noticed, I’d created a list. A systematic filing system for all Cook related matters because Cook was…confusing and things were less confusing when they were down on paper.
Cook thought I was pretty.
At least that’s what Carly told me and she wasn’t laughing or anything when she said it, just doing that weird tingly smile that she does so I knew she was telling the truth.
And boys like girls who they think are pretty. So…
I tore up the list and started over on a new piece of paper. I tried to think of an equation that would allow me to solve this.
Chest hair + Holding doors + Pretty = ???
And maybe I did know the answer, maybe I was just too afraid to write it down because just because something made sense on a piece of paper didn’t mean it made sense in real life.
Cook was…confusing because he was like the best friend I’d ever had, but when he held a door open for me and I walked past him and smelt his cologne I…
I forgot that he was just my friend.
4.
It happens during one of the final stops on the tour.
We’re all sitting around on the bus afterwards, still riding the adrenaline high from the show that night when everyone decides to play truth or dare. And childish games I can so do. I was the master of ‘truth’ back home with my friends.
The game goes around the circle until suddenly Cook is sitting right across from me asking, “Archie, truth or dare?”
And I say what I always say. “Truth.” Which was really very stupid because this was Cook and even though I loved him like a…brother that didn’t mean he wouldn’t take every chance possible to humiliate me.
He looks around thoughtfully, a hand on his chin, before his eyes suddenly light up with glee.
“Okay, got it! Who do you think is the most attractive person on the tour?”
Nine pairs of eyes look curiously at me, all the girls fluttering their eye lashes at me jokingly. I gulp because I cannot tell a lie. Ever. I just can’t.
“Can I answer myself?” I ask jokingly, hoping to distract from the question.
Cook’s uproarious laughter is worth the red staining my cheeks. “Okay, second most attractive?”
And I told you, I can’t lie. It’s like part of my genetic makeup. So I do the only thing I can possibly do. I cover my face with my hands and mutter my answer.
Cook stops laughing immediately. There’s a moment of stunned silence where everyone looks at me incredulously before suddenly everyone is laughing harder than ever before.
All except Cook. He sits there staring at me, like…like he’s never seen me before.
“What did you say?”
I feel the tears burning the back of my throat.
“You Cook. I said you.”
5.
The last time it happens is the first time for something else.
He sits next to me on the couch of his new home’s living room. He’s singing his new song for me. Thighs pressed together, eyes glued to Cook’s fingers strumming the strings, practically crying from the intensity of his voice because this is Cook and Cook is nothing if not intense.
He finishes and looks over at me. I swallow. He leans closer and for a crazy moment I think he’s going to kiss me but instead he grabs the notebook on the table behind me and looks thoughtfully over the music notes scribbled on it. He scratches his head and looks up from beneath his lashes, looking suddenly shy.
“What do you think?”
And how do you put into words what you feel when your heart is practically bursting from holding so much into such a small body? How do you tell a man that every last love song and perfect melody he’s ever sang has been the catalyst to every fantasy and daydream you’ve ever had?
“It’s…p-perfect.” And there goes my voice again.
He smiles, like it’s the best compliment he’s even gotten. He lies the guitar down on the coffee table and shifts closer. I almost move back, but his hand on my leg freezes me in place.
“Good because it’s…it’s for you.”
And then his face is suddenly out of focus because he’s so much closer and…and his lips are brushing tentatively against mine. I suck in a breath, hand immediately locking onto the fabric of his shirt as a lifeline because only I could have a panic attack during my first kiss.
His lips gently, but firmly press into mine. He tilts his head and suddenly it’s the perfect angle and, oh, I’d always wondered why people liked kissing so much.
He pulls back a second later and his hand cups mine against his chest.
He’s smiling. Not just his lips but his whole face. And okay, maybe the list and the equation didn’t answer any questions for me, but this did.
“Okay?” he asks.
My hand unclenches from his shirt and goes up to the nape of his neck. I smile as I lean up towards his lips. “Okay.”
And the last time I question my relationship with Cook is the first time it really starts.