IT'S ALL WRONG (BUT IT'S ALL RIGHT) -- PG
[NOTE: I had total epic!fail for Christmas fic this year, but I also realized I never added my exchange fic from last year on this journal, so I present then this out-of-date, too-late-for-2011 Christmas fic for anyone who doesn't mind reruns and is still in the Christmas spirit. :D]
[title] It's All Wrong (But It's All Right) ( Original post at cookleta_etc)
[author] kissontheneck (a.k.a. fieryrogue)
[pairing] Cookleta
[beta] None, yikes. No time, no time!
[rating] PG
[word count] 3302
[summary] David misses Christmas in Utah.
[disclaimer] Surely, I have nothing to do with either of these fine young men, no matter how much I wish I did.
[warnings] Fake snow, ugly Christmas sweaters, store-bought pie (OH, THE HUMANITY).
[author's notes] Written for nieliegen for the fic exchange at cookleta_etc. Happy Christmas! :D Also, I was rushing this to the deadline because I'm the best procrastinator in the whole wide world, so my apologies if anything is weird or awkward or just not good. I meant to do so much more with this, but time just slipped away from me. I hope it's good enough (and doesn't sound too much like it was written at the last possible moment)! (Insert my typical apologetics because I'm... well, me.)
IT'S ALL WRONG (BUT IT'S ALL RIGHT)
December the first
"Ah ha!" Cook declared, turning the page on the calendar in the kitchen. "December! Can you even believe it? This year went by so quickly."
"It doesn't seem like December," David replied, gazing out the kitchen window. "It's like eighty degrees outside or something."
"It's crazy, right?" Cook agreed, readjusting the pushpin to hold up the last page of the calendar. "Back home everything would be frozen solid by now. I have to admit, it's nice to get a break from that."
"Yeah, but it's eighty degrees outside," David repeated, shoving his hands into his pockets dejectedly. "We're having a heat wave for goodness sakes. It's not supposed to be eighty degrees in December, even in California."
"It's only the first," Cook said, striding out of the kitchen. "It'll cool down. It'll be a chilly seventy by Christmas, I'm sure."
David sighed and sunk against the kitchen counter. "Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of."
December the eighth
Because David had been working in the music room all morning, he missed when Cook had left with Neal to go shopping. He missed Cook saying that they were leaving and he missed them coming back entirely. So when he emerged around lunchtime in hopes of finding something to eat, he was more than a little shocked to see the state of the living room, and the two long-time friends buried in the midst of the sparkling mess around them.
"Neal, have you seen anymore of these really short pieces? I can only find one, but there has to be more."
"What color is the sticker on it?"
"Blue."
"Dude, the whole thing is blue, that's not very convenient."
David blinked at them and then cleared his throat, causing Cook to look up at him and then beam.
"Hey, babe," Cook greeted. "I didn't want to disturb you while you were working. Neal helped me pick out a tree! Wanna help us put it together?"
David did not know what on earth Cook was talking about. All he could see were dozens of long thin poles with shiny blue wisps attached all along each one that littered his living room floor.
"What?" was all he could manage to say.
"We got a tree! I was going to get an all white one, but then we saw this." Cook held up one of the strange limbs. "Blue's gonna look really cool in the window, don't you think? Calm and romantic. I figured you'd like that."
David still stared. "Are you saying that's our Christmas tree?" he asked, disbelieving.
"Yeah!" Cook replied, enthusiastically. "I was thinking we'd put white lights on it. Maybe some of that confetti snow."
It finally struck David that this was a fake Christmas tree. One that a person had to assemble and that apparently wasn't required to even pretend like it was a real one.
"I've never... built a Christmas tree before," David said, a little anxiously. "We always got ours from the mountains."
"It's not hard," Cook replied. He patted the spot next to him on the floor. "Come help me find the other short branches for the top, Neal is no help at all."
David felt a little affronted. Every year since he could remember his family had gone (together) up into the foothills surrounding Salt Lake and hunted for the perfect Christmas tree. They'd bring it home and set it up and the entire house would smell like pine for weeks after that, which was David's favorite part about the whole ordeal really, even more than the presents placed underneath the tree. He hesitated a second before he passed the two on his way to the kitchen.
"I'm going to have a sandwich," he said simply. "And then I should probably get back to work. I've got a good momentum going and don't want to spoil it. Let me know, uh, when we have a ‘tree’ to decorate."
December the fifteenth
"They say Salt Lake's gonna freeze over," Jazzy said excitedly. "I hope that's true, it'll look so cool."
David picked at his t-shirt as he lay on the bed staring at the ceiling. "Yeah," he said into the phone. "I saw that it was really cold out there right now."
"Daniel's had to shovel the sidewalk about six times already," she went on, apparently not noticing the hint of sourness in her brother's voice. "I make a point to laugh at him every time he has to."
David closed his eyes and tried to imagine his brother, bundled up in a heavy coat and knit scarf, cheeks pinking against the crisp Utah air. Jazzy kept talking, but all David could imagine now was some sort of 1950's style fantasy of his mother leaning out the door and calling to him, telling him to come in because she had made hot soup for lunch, and grilled cheese sandwiches and hot tea.
"David, are you listening?"
"What? Yes, of course, Jazzy. Salt Lake is freezing, Daniel is shoveling snow, it's quite funny."
"You're not listening," Jazzy concluded, sighing. "Mom got asked to do a special solo at the Christmas show at church this weekend. They wanted you too, but Mom explained that you had a really busy schedule this year."
"Oh," David replied as the memories of his home church adorned in twinkling lights came to mind. "I wish I could make it. Even if I had time it sounds like a storm is moving in through Utah soon. I'm sure the airport will be its usual mess like every year."
Jazzy hummed her agreement. "Still, it'd be nice."
"Yeah," David said so softly that Jazzy probably didn't even hear it. "I miss you guys and all the things that make Christmas so --"
"Archie! Where are you? Are you in the bedroom?" Cook's voice echoed down the hall as he got closer.
"Hang on, Jazz, Cook wants something." He cupped his hand over the mouthpiece and replied, "Yes, what is it?"
"Arch," Cook said, leaning his head into their bedroom. "Some friends at the label invited us to their party this afternoon, whatta ya say?"
"Um," David hesitated. Parties at Cook's label were always hit-and-miss for him as far as feeling comfortable around a bunch of hot executives and rock stars trolling the place. It wasn't like parties at his own label, where people seemed more normal and, well, he knew more than two people there.
"Yeah, I guess," he finally conceded, and Cook beamed at him.
"Great, put your shoes on, Archie, we're going to a Christmas luau!" Cook disappeared from the doorway as quickly as he'd appeared.
David sat dumbfounded for a minute before he remembered that he was still on the phone with his sister.
"I have to go, Jazz," he said into the receiver. "I guess I'm going to a Christmas luau?"
There was silence for a second before she replied. "A what?" she asked.
"I didn't even know about it until five seconds ago. It sounds horrifying, whatever it is."
"You know, I love you and everything, David," she said, sounding sympathetic, "but California is a weird place."
December the twentieth
"Happy birthday!" David declared, bounding into the living room with a green and red wrapped present clutched in his hands. "Sorry I wrapped this in Christmas paper, but--"
"Ha ha, it's all right, Arch," Cook replied. "Here, sit next to me on the couch while I open it."
David practically flung over the side of the couch, barely missing Cook's lap. Maybe Christmas hadn't been shaping up to be everything he looked forward to every year, but he wasn't going to let Cook's birthday be spoiled by it. Besides, he'd been hiding this present right under Cook's nose for almost four months now, which made him feel good about getting it past the master present-snooper for once.
Cook had pushed his forefinger under one of the side flaps of paper when his phone suddenly started ringing next to him. The ringtone was "Til I'm Blue" and so David knew it was Andy calling before Cook even answered it.
"Hey, Andy," Cook said, tucking the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he continue pulling the paper off the present. "Ha ha, thanks, man. Well, I'm just opening a present from David right now and..."
Cook paused mid-rip, his hand sort of lingering in mid-air. David wished he'd just open it already, he‘d been so anxious for him to open it that he‘d almost given it to him a day early. Of course, he wished Andy hadn't called just then either, so really he was kind of perplexed.
"What?" Cook was saying now. "Oh yeah, that'd be awesome. As far as I know we're not... I'll ask Arch, but yeah! Let's do that. Talk to you later, man."
Cook hung up the phone and dropped it on the couch beside him.
"Did you have anything planned for today?" Cook asked, clearly hoping David would say no.
"Well, not really," David answered, though it was sort of a lie. He hadn't planned anything in particular, but whatever they did that day he had hoped to do it alone.
"Andy and the guys want to go to the beach today," Cook said, clearly keen on the idea. "For my birthday. You know how it's deserted this time of year, so we could totally own the place and be crazy. Get those ocean view tables at restaurants that we never get."
"The beach?" David said as if English were not his first language. "They want to go to the beach? In December?"
"Yeah," Cook replied. "It's kind of nice when no one's there, don't you think?"
David wasn't sure what made him say the next thing that came out of his mouth, but it poured forth like floodgates opening on the Hoover Dam.
"You know what my sisters are probably doing right now?" he inquired, causing Cook to look at him oddly. "Right now, they're probably waist deep in snow, making snowballs, building up a snowman... Amber's probably flopped on her back making a snow angel as we speak. The very thought of going to the beach when it is wintertime is making my head hurt a little."
"You could do a sand angel?" Cook suggested, forcing a smile. He might have been trying to help, but it only proved to make David more annoyed.
"It's Christmastime, Cook! You're not supposed to go to the beach at Christmas! That doesn't --" David was so flustered he had to pause for a second. "That doesn't even make sense!" he finished, waving one hand wildly in the air.
"Arch," Cook said, any trace of remaining happiness draining from his face, "what's wrong? You've been seriously cranky for days now. Weeks even. What happened to my Archie that joyfully strung popcorn for the tree and hummed Christmas carols in his sleep last year? I really miss him."
"He's in Utah," David said sharply, before he could stop himself. "He's in Utah hanging lights on a live tree and opening the little windows on advent calendars and building snow forts and mulling cider and he is most definitely not going to the gosh darn beach five days before Christmas.
Cook looked absolutely astonished. He opened his mouth to say something but David didn't give him the chance. Jumping up from the couch, David stormed out of the room, Cook calling after him.
"Archie!" Cook shouted. David kept right on down the hall and up the stairs. "Archie, come back! I didn't even realize--"
What his boyfriend didn't realize, David did not hear. The slamming of the bedroom door echoed loudly across the latter part of Cook's sentence.
December the twenty-second
It had been deathly quiet in the house ever since David's outburst. There were still pleasantries, and idle conversation, and no one was sleeping on the couch or anything. David knew he should apologize though, but now that it had been two days it was getting harder by the second to do so. It had also been particularly difficult because Cook kept leaving the house with Andrew to go do who knows what together all day. This of course irritated David more than anything. At least if Cook were around David had someone to be actively mad at. Instead he just complained aloud to Dublin all day, the poor dog often falling asleep at his feet while he did so.
On this particular morning, Andrew had been in their kitchen already when David had come downstairs, helping himself to coffee and David's last onion bagel. He forced a smile and tried to pretend that what he really wanted to eat was Cheerios, but he was pretty certain Andrew wasn't buying it. As expected, as soon as Cook made his appearance, the two set off again, not to be seen again until nightfall.
For awhile, David considered getting in the car and driving to the airport to wait for the next plane to Salt Lake City.
December the twenty-fourth
David did not make an escape for Salt Lake, however. For one thing, half the flights in and out of the SLC airport were delayed or cancelled due to a snowstorm, and the other half still daring to go into Ogden and Provo were booked solid. For another he didn't really want to abandon Cook on Christmas Eve. He knew that the fact that it didn't snow in Malibu was not Cook's fault and so when David finished his shower he was determined to apologize to Cook today.
Except when he got downstairs, Cook was once again nowhere to be found.
That was it. David had grown tired of Cook's running off every day, even if he did deserve it. He decided it was his turn to run off for once, and as he filled Dublin's bowl with fresh water his eye caught a flier that had been stuck to the fridge weeks ago. It advertised a special Christmas Eve musical program in Beverly Hills. Biting his lip, David snatched the flier off the fridge and read it carefully. You are cordially invited, it read at the top in script writing. Near the bottom, after a bullet-point list of musical guests, it informed, Join us at noon to celebrate the spirit of Christmas!.
David realized there was one thing he didn't need to be in Utah to enjoy, and that was music. He grabbed his keys, jacket and sunglasses and slipped out the door.
The concert proved very enjoyable, and even lifted his spirits. He wished that Cook could have joined him for it, but then again, for all he knew Cook was sitting at Andrew's pool and sipping mojitos in his shorts or something. When he arrived home, however, Cook's car was parked in its usual spot, and Andrew's was mysteriously absent.
As soon as David came into the house he was struck by it; an overwhelming smack in the face of freezing cold air that penetrated even the heavy sweater vest he wore. Instinctively, he glanced around above him as if looking to the nearest air conditioning vent might explain why it was forty degrees in the house.
"Cook!" he called, rubbing his hands along his arms and still looking up into the high ceiling of the entryway. "Are you home? I think the heating and A/C is broken again. You weren't trying to fix it yourself, were you?"
In reply, he was met by Dublin trotting into the entryway, jangling away (he had several bells attached to his collar) as he approached David. Dublin also seemed to have picked up a red knit vest with a large, green letter 'D' worked into it while David had been gone. The dog stopped at David's feet, sat down stiffly, and looked up at him, whimpering.
"Why is the dog wearing a sweater?" David called, scooping Dublin up into his arms and making his way towards the living room.
But David did not get the answer he expected (that is, a verbal explanation of some type). What he saw puzzled him even more than the freezing cold air and the dog wearing an ugly Christmas sweater. Just in front of the fireplace (a thing that had never been used in their house ever, for obvious reasons), Cook was crouched down, poking one of the fireplace implements into a stack of logs inside. He also wore a cobalt blue sweater with silvery white snowflakes worked around the collar and cuffs, a knit scarf and thick wooly socks.
"What are you doing?" David asked, carefully putting the dog down on the floor and crossing the room to his significant other. "If the heating is broken we can just open the doors, it's like seventy-five outside."
"Archiiiie," Cook whined, now reaching into his pocket for a book of matches. "I made it cold in here on purpose so I could start a fire for you."
David felt the vein in his forehead pulse with a pain that was sure to develop quickly into a headache. "Did you hit your head?" he asked. "Because if you did we should take you to the emergency room right away. Head injuries can be more serious than they seem at first."
Cook sighed heavily and got to his feet. "Archie, come here, would you?"
Reluctantly, David closed the gap between them, and Cook slipped his hands around David's waist.
"I'm an idiot," Cook started, letting his thumbs slip into David's belt loops. "I'm from Missouri, I should know better."
"What?" David said, genuinely confused.
"Snow," Cook replied purposefully. "Snowmen, skiing, crisp winter air, pink cheeks, hot chocolate... That's what Christmas is to you, not trips to the beach and palm trees. I get it. And I'm sorry."
"No," David responded, "you didn't do anything wrong. I'm just... I missed home, I guess. All this fake stuff just kept making me more frustrated, and then I took it out on you for no reason."
"Well," Cook said grinning as he rubbed his thumb on David's hip, "I got you something anyway. I hope it helps."
Cook took David by the hand and led him across the room to the tree, which took David a second to realize wasn't blindingly blue anymore; in fact, it became clear rather quickly that it wasn't the same tree at all, and David blinked at it a second trying to figure out what had happened.
"Smell it," Cook said. "Go on," he added, pushing David's shoulder a little.
David did as he was told. He didn't have to get very close to note the piney smell radiated off the still undecorated limbs.
"It's real," David observed, pulling back. He looked up into Cook's eyes. "It's real?"
"Andrew and I searched every block of Los Angeles County for it, I think," Cook answered. "You'd think it wouldn't be so hard to find the perfect live Christmas tree two days before Christmas, would you?" He grinned, obviously amused with himself. "Do you like it?"
"I love it," David replied. He wrapped his arms around Cook's middle and buried his face into his boyfriend's chest. "Thank you."
"Anything for you," Cook said, pressing his lips to David's temple. He squeezed David tighter to himself and ran his hands over David's arms. "It really is cold in here, isn't it? Let's get that fire started before we freeze to death. I got marshmallows shaped like snowmen for the hot chocolate, we can decorate the tree and then all I want us to do is snuggle in front of the fire and kiss each other's lips off, how's that sound?"
David giggled into Cook's chest and looked up, eyes big and bright. "It sounds like I got the best Christmas I could ask for after all."
=====
[title] It's All Wrong (But It's All Right) ( Original post at cookleta_etc)
[author] kissontheneck (a.k.a. fieryrogue)
[pairing] Cookleta
[beta] None, yikes. No time, no time!
[rating] PG
[word count] 3302
[summary] David misses Christmas in Utah.
[disclaimer] Surely, I have nothing to do with either of these fine young men, no matter how much I wish I did.
[warnings] Fake snow, ugly Christmas sweaters, store-bought pie (OH, THE HUMANITY).
[author's notes] Written for nieliegen for the fic exchange at cookleta_etc. Happy Christmas! :D Also, I was rushing this to the deadline because I'm the best procrastinator in the whole wide world, so my apologies if anything is weird or awkward or just not good. I meant to do so much more with this, but time just slipped away from me. I hope it's good enough (and doesn't sound too much like it was written at the last possible moment)! (Insert my typical apologetics because I'm... well, me.)
IT'S ALL WRONG (BUT IT'S ALL RIGHT)
December the first
"Ah ha!" Cook declared, turning the page on the calendar in the kitchen. "December! Can you even believe it? This year went by so quickly."
"It doesn't seem like December," David replied, gazing out the kitchen window. "It's like eighty degrees outside or something."
"It's crazy, right?" Cook agreed, readjusting the pushpin to hold up the last page of the calendar. "Back home everything would be frozen solid by now. I have to admit, it's nice to get a break from that."
"Yeah, but it's eighty degrees outside," David repeated, shoving his hands into his pockets dejectedly. "We're having a heat wave for goodness sakes. It's not supposed to be eighty degrees in December, even in California."
"It's only the first," Cook said, striding out of the kitchen. "It'll cool down. It'll be a chilly seventy by Christmas, I'm sure."
David sighed and sunk against the kitchen counter. "Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of."
December the eighth
Because David had been working in the music room all morning, he missed when Cook had left with Neal to go shopping. He missed Cook saying that they were leaving and he missed them coming back entirely. So when he emerged around lunchtime in hopes of finding something to eat, he was more than a little shocked to see the state of the living room, and the two long-time friends buried in the midst of the sparkling mess around them.
"Neal, have you seen anymore of these really short pieces? I can only find one, but there has to be more."
"What color is the sticker on it?"
"Blue."
"Dude, the whole thing is blue, that's not very convenient."
David blinked at them and then cleared his throat, causing Cook to look up at him and then beam.
"Hey, babe," Cook greeted. "I didn't want to disturb you while you were working. Neal helped me pick out a tree! Wanna help us put it together?"
David did not know what on earth Cook was talking about. All he could see were dozens of long thin poles with shiny blue wisps attached all along each one that littered his living room floor.
"What?" was all he could manage to say.
"We got a tree! I was going to get an all white one, but then we saw this." Cook held up one of the strange limbs. "Blue's gonna look really cool in the window, don't you think? Calm and romantic. I figured you'd like that."
David still stared. "Are you saying that's our Christmas tree?" he asked, disbelieving.
"Yeah!" Cook replied, enthusiastically. "I was thinking we'd put white lights on it. Maybe some of that confetti snow."
It finally struck David that this was a fake Christmas tree. One that a person had to assemble and that apparently wasn't required to even pretend like it was a real one.
"I've never... built a Christmas tree before," David said, a little anxiously. "We always got ours from the mountains."
"It's not hard," Cook replied. He patted the spot next to him on the floor. "Come help me find the other short branches for the top, Neal is no help at all."
David felt a little affronted. Every year since he could remember his family had gone (together) up into the foothills surrounding Salt Lake and hunted for the perfect Christmas tree. They'd bring it home and set it up and the entire house would smell like pine for weeks after that, which was David's favorite part about the whole ordeal really, even more than the presents placed underneath the tree. He hesitated a second before he passed the two on his way to the kitchen.
"I'm going to have a sandwich," he said simply. "And then I should probably get back to work. I've got a good momentum going and don't want to spoil it. Let me know, uh, when we have a ‘tree’ to decorate."
December the fifteenth
"They say Salt Lake's gonna freeze over," Jazzy said excitedly. "I hope that's true, it'll look so cool."
David picked at his t-shirt as he lay on the bed staring at the ceiling. "Yeah," he said into the phone. "I saw that it was really cold out there right now."
"Daniel's had to shovel the sidewalk about six times already," she went on, apparently not noticing the hint of sourness in her brother's voice. "I make a point to laugh at him every time he has to."
David closed his eyes and tried to imagine his brother, bundled up in a heavy coat and knit scarf, cheeks pinking against the crisp Utah air. Jazzy kept talking, but all David could imagine now was some sort of 1950's style fantasy of his mother leaning out the door and calling to him, telling him to come in because she had made hot soup for lunch, and grilled cheese sandwiches and hot tea.
"David, are you listening?"
"What? Yes, of course, Jazzy. Salt Lake is freezing, Daniel is shoveling snow, it's quite funny."
"You're not listening," Jazzy concluded, sighing. "Mom got asked to do a special solo at the Christmas show at church this weekend. They wanted you too, but Mom explained that you had a really busy schedule this year."
"Oh," David replied as the memories of his home church adorned in twinkling lights came to mind. "I wish I could make it. Even if I had time it sounds like a storm is moving in through Utah soon. I'm sure the airport will be its usual mess like every year."
Jazzy hummed her agreement. "Still, it'd be nice."
"Yeah," David said so softly that Jazzy probably didn't even hear it. "I miss you guys and all the things that make Christmas so --"
"Archie! Where are you? Are you in the bedroom?" Cook's voice echoed down the hall as he got closer.
"Hang on, Jazz, Cook wants something." He cupped his hand over the mouthpiece and replied, "Yes, what is it?"
"Arch," Cook said, leaning his head into their bedroom. "Some friends at the label invited us to their party this afternoon, whatta ya say?"
"Um," David hesitated. Parties at Cook's label were always hit-and-miss for him as far as feeling comfortable around a bunch of hot executives and rock stars trolling the place. It wasn't like parties at his own label, where people seemed more normal and, well, he knew more than two people there.
"Yeah, I guess," he finally conceded, and Cook beamed at him.
"Great, put your shoes on, Archie, we're going to a Christmas luau!" Cook disappeared from the doorway as quickly as he'd appeared.
David sat dumbfounded for a minute before he remembered that he was still on the phone with his sister.
"I have to go, Jazz," he said into the receiver. "I guess I'm going to a Christmas luau?"
There was silence for a second before she replied. "A what?" she asked.
"I didn't even know about it until five seconds ago. It sounds horrifying, whatever it is."
"You know, I love you and everything, David," she said, sounding sympathetic, "but California is a weird place."
December the twentieth
"Happy birthday!" David declared, bounding into the living room with a green and red wrapped present clutched in his hands. "Sorry I wrapped this in Christmas paper, but--"
"Ha ha, it's all right, Arch," Cook replied. "Here, sit next to me on the couch while I open it."
David practically flung over the side of the couch, barely missing Cook's lap. Maybe Christmas hadn't been shaping up to be everything he looked forward to every year, but he wasn't going to let Cook's birthday be spoiled by it. Besides, he'd been hiding this present right under Cook's nose for almost four months now, which made him feel good about getting it past the master present-snooper for once.
Cook had pushed his forefinger under one of the side flaps of paper when his phone suddenly started ringing next to him. The ringtone was "Til I'm Blue" and so David knew it was Andy calling before Cook even answered it.
"Hey, Andy," Cook said, tucking the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he continue pulling the paper off the present. "Ha ha, thanks, man. Well, I'm just opening a present from David right now and..."
Cook paused mid-rip, his hand sort of lingering in mid-air. David wished he'd just open it already, he‘d been so anxious for him to open it that he‘d almost given it to him a day early. Of course, he wished Andy hadn't called just then either, so really he was kind of perplexed.
"What?" Cook was saying now. "Oh yeah, that'd be awesome. As far as I know we're not... I'll ask Arch, but yeah! Let's do that. Talk to you later, man."
Cook hung up the phone and dropped it on the couch beside him.
"Did you have anything planned for today?" Cook asked, clearly hoping David would say no.
"Well, not really," David answered, though it was sort of a lie. He hadn't planned anything in particular, but whatever they did that day he had hoped to do it alone.
"Andy and the guys want to go to the beach today," Cook said, clearly keen on the idea. "For my birthday. You know how it's deserted this time of year, so we could totally own the place and be crazy. Get those ocean view tables at restaurants that we never get."
"The beach?" David said as if English were not his first language. "They want to go to the beach? In December?"
"Yeah," Cook replied. "It's kind of nice when no one's there, don't you think?"
David wasn't sure what made him say the next thing that came out of his mouth, but it poured forth like floodgates opening on the Hoover Dam.
"You know what my sisters are probably doing right now?" he inquired, causing Cook to look at him oddly. "Right now, they're probably waist deep in snow, making snowballs, building up a snowman... Amber's probably flopped on her back making a snow angel as we speak. The very thought of going to the beach when it is wintertime is making my head hurt a little."
"You could do a sand angel?" Cook suggested, forcing a smile. He might have been trying to help, but it only proved to make David more annoyed.
"It's Christmastime, Cook! You're not supposed to go to the beach at Christmas! That doesn't --" David was so flustered he had to pause for a second. "That doesn't even make sense!" he finished, waving one hand wildly in the air.
"Arch," Cook said, any trace of remaining happiness draining from his face, "what's wrong? You've been seriously cranky for days now. Weeks even. What happened to my Archie that joyfully strung popcorn for the tree and hummed Christmas carols in his sleep last year? I really miss him."
"He's in Utah," David said sharply, before he could stop himself. "He's in Utah hanging lights on a live tree and opening the little windows on advent calendars and building snow forts and mulling cider and he is most definitely not going to the gosh darn beach five days before Christmas.
Cook looked absolutely astonished. He opened his mouth to say something but David didn't give him the chance. Jumping up from the couch, David stormed out of the room, Cook calling after him.
"Archie!" Cook shouted. David kept right on down the hall and up the stairs. "Archie, come back! I didn't even realize--"
What his boyfriend didn't realize, David did not hear. The slamming of the bedroom door echoed loudly across the latter part of Cook's sentence.
December the twenty-second
It had been deathly quiet in the house ever since David's outburst. There were still pleasantries, and idle conversation, and no one was sleeping on the couch or anything. David knew he should apologize though, but now that it had been two days it was getting harder by the second to do so. It had also been particularly difficult because Cook kept leaving the house with Andrew to go do who knows what together all day. This of course irritated David more than anything. At least if Cook were around David had someone to be actively mad at. Instead he just complained aloud to Dublin all day, the poor dog often falling asleep at his feet while he did so.
On this particular morning, Andrew had been in their kitchen already when David had come downstairs, helping himself to coffee and David's last onion bagel. He forced a smile and tried to pretend that what he really wanted to eat was Cheerios, but he was pretty certain Andrew wasn't buying it. As expected, as soon as Cook made his appearance, the two set off again, not to be seen again until nightfall.
For awhile, David considered getting in the car and driving to the airport to wait for the next plane to Salt Lake City.
December the twenty-fourth
David did not make an escape for Salt Lake, however. For one thing, half the flights in and out of the SLC airport were delayed or cancelled due to a snowstorm, and the other half still daring to go into Ogden and Provo were booked solid. For another he didn't really want to abandon Cook on Christmas Eve. He knew that the fact that it didn't snow in Malibu was not Cook's fault and so when David finished his shower he was determined to apologize to Cook today.
Except when he got downstairs, Cook was once again nowhere to be found.
That was it. David had grown tired of Cook's running off every day, even if he did deserve it. He decided it was his turn to run off for once, and as he filled Dublin's bowl with fresh water his eye caught a flier that had been stuck to the fridge weeks ago. It advertised a special Christmas Eve musical program in Beverly Hills. Biting his lip, David snatched the flier off the fridge and read it carefully. You are cordially invited, it read at the top in script writing. Near the bottom, after a bullet-point list of musical guests, it informed, Join us at noon to celebrate the spirit of Christmas!.
David realized there was one thing he didn't need to be in Utah to enjoy, and that was music. He grabbed his keys, jacket and sunglasses and slipped out the door.
The concert proved very enjoyable, and even lifted his spirits. He wished that Cook could have joined him for it, but then again, for all he knew Cook was sitting at Andrew's pool and sipping mojitos in his shorts or something. When he arrived home, however, Cook's car was parked in its usual spot, and Andrew's was mysteriously absent.
As soon as David came into the house he was struck by it; an overwhelming smack in the face of freezing cold air that penetrated even the heavy sweater vest he wore. Instinctively, he glanced around above him as if looking to the nearest air conditioning vent might explain why it was forty degrees in the house.
"Cook!" he called, rubbing his hands along his arms and still looking up into the high ceiling of the entryway. "Are you home? I think the heating and A/C is broken again. You weren't trying to fix it yourself, were you?"
In reply, he was met by Dublin trotting into the entryway, jangling away (he had several bells attached to his collar) as he approached David. Dublin also seemed to have picked up a red knit vest with a large, green letter 'D' worked into it while David had been gone. The dog stopped at David's feet, sat down stiffly, and looked up at him, whimpering.
"Why is the dog wearing a sweater?" David called, scooping Dublin up into his arms and making his way towards the living room.
But David did not get the answer he expected (that is, a verbal explanation of some type). What he saw puzzled him even more than the freezing cold air and the dog wearing an ugly Christmas sweater. Just in front of the fireplace (a thing that had never been used in their house ever, for obvious reasons), Cook was crouched down, poking one of the fireplace implements into a stack of logs inside. He also wore a cobalt blue sweater with silvery white snowflakes worked around the collar and cuffs, a knit scarf and thick wooly socks.
"What are you doing?" David asked, carefully putting the dog down on the floor and crossing the room to his significant other. "If the heating is broken we can just open the doors, it's like seventy-five outside."
"Archiiiie," Cook whined, now reaching into his pocket for a book of matches. "I made it cold in here on purpose so I could start a fire for you."
David felt the vein in his forehead pulse with a pain that was sure to develop quickly into a headache. "Did you hit your head?" he asked. "Because if you did we should take you to the emergency room right away. Head injuries can be more serious than they seem at first."
Cook sighed heavily and got to his feet. "Archie, come here, would you?"
Reluctantly, David closed the gap between them, and Cook slipped his hands around David's waist.
"I'm an idiot," Cook started, letting his thumbs slip into David's belt loops. "I'm from Missouri, I should know better."
"What?" David said, genuinely confused.
"Snow," Cook replied purposefully. "Snowmen, skiing, crisp winter air, pink cheeks, hot chocolate... That's what Christmas is to you, not trips to the beach and palm trees. I get it. And I'm sorry."
"No," David responded, "you didn't do anything wrong. I'm just... I missed home, I guess. All this fake stuff just kept making me more frustrated, and then I took it out on you for no reason."
"Well," Cook said grinning as he rubbed his thumb on David's hip, "I got you something anyway. I hope it helps."
Cook took David by the hand and led him across the room to the tree, which took David a second to realize wasn't blindingly blue anymore; in fact, it became clear rather quickly that it wasn't the same tree at all, and David blinked at it a second trying to figure out what had happened.
"Smell it," Cook said. "Go on," he added, pushing David's shoulder a little.
David did as he was told. He didn't have to get very close to note the piney smell radiated off the still undecorated limbs.
"It's real," David observed, pulling back. He looked up into Cook's eyes. "It's real?"
"Andrew and I searched every block of Los Angeles County for it, I think," Cook answered. "You'd think it wouldn't be so hard to find the perfect live Christmas tree two days before Christmas, would you?" He grinned, obviously amused with himself. "Do you like it?"
"I love it," David replied. He wrapped his arms around Cook's middle and buried his face into his boyfriend's chest. "Thank you."
"Anything for you," Cook said, pressing his lips to David's temple. He squeezed David tighter to himself and ran his hands over David's arms. "It really is cold in here, isn't it? Let's get that fire started before we freeze to death. I got marshmallows shaped like snowmen for the hot chocolate, we can decorate the tree and then all I want us to do is snuggle in front of the fire and kiss each other's lips off, how's that sound?"
David giggled into Cook's chest and looked up, eyes big and bright. "It sounds like I got the best Christmas I could ask for after all."
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