Home -- G
[title] Home
[author] kissontheneck
[pairing] Cookleta (YAY!)
[rating] G
[word count] 1433
[summary] HE'S HOME.
[disclaimer] Surely, I have nothing to do with either of these fine men, no matter how much I wish I did.
[author's notes] GUYS, HE'S HOME. (for rajkumari905)
"Okay, I like that. Andy, you wanna play that one more time just so we have a backup recording?"
Andy nods as he fingers his guitar strings. Cook is just counting down for the restart when his phone, sitting abandoned and long forgotten on an unused bass drum vibrates violently, rattles the instrument and falls loudly to the floor.
"Uh, sorry guys," Cook apologizes, truly embarrassed. "I forgot to turn it off after lunch, I guess."
Quickly running to his phone, he scowls at the offending piece of technology as he presses hard on the power button in order to shut it off. But just as the "Slide to power off" message comes up, he notes who the incoming message is from. It makes him nearly drop the phone again.
"Uh, take five, guys," he says hurriedly, not even making eye contact with anyone in the band as he slips into the adjoining room where visitors sometimes come to watch the magic of music recording.
Plopping down onto one of the squashy couches, Cook pokes at his phone, curious about this ghostly message. Ghostly because it's unexpected, and seems to come from another lifetime. Cook hasn't spoken to its sender in a very long time, not that he hasn't wanted to.
One new message from Archie.
Holy Christ.
Still convinced it's a dream (or possibly a nightmare if he wakes up and finds out this isn't actually real), Cook opens the message, staring like he's trying to navigate a new iOS update. There's just a link. A bright blue, underlined YouTube link, resting there underneath a stream of saved past messages.
Cook looks around and notes Monty squinting at him through the glass.
"Would you mind your own business!" Cook says loudly as he digs into his pocket for his ear buds. Ignoring his bass player, he plugs into his phone, not sure what he's about to witness.
For some reason it takes an entire minute for the thing to load because the wi-fi in the recording studio is in fact shit, but the agonizing wait is worth it. David shows up on the screen wearing a suit and tie, hair clipped very close to his head.
"Hola," says the cheerful David Archuleta. "Hey, everyone. It's Elder Archuleta here. And... --" David stutters briefly. "I'm home." He laughs and looks away, then back again. "I'm home."
Ten seconds. It's just ten seconds but it's ten seconds more than Cook has had in two goddamn years. He suddenly realizes he's gripping his phone really tightly and tries to ease up on it before he gets a hand cramp.
Glancing up, Cook sees that Monty has disappeared, at least for now, so he hits replay on the player. "Hola, hey, home." Key words that stand out as Cook watches it two or three times more. He pays closer attention as David laughs, quietly, shyly, as if he's embarrassed by his thoughts or feels silly making this ten second declaration.
Cook knows he's embarrassed for having to make this ten second declaration.
"Dave, what are you doing, man?" Monty knocks on the glass, scaring Cook half to death.
"Hang on!" Cook shouts back, more irritably than he intended. He gives Monty "Oops, sorry" eyes and then turns back to his phone. He hunkers down and presses play again.
"Hola... hey, everybody... I'm home."
Cook now recognizes the deep emotion under that soft voice and knows another reason the video is so short: David is seriously on the verge of crying. Cook can't blame him, and clicks the sleep button on his phone before he starts crying himself. He decides he'll play it cool for a bit, let David visit with his family and put on some clothes that don't include a clip-on tie. He doesn't want to seem too eager, after all, and he does have some work to do.
He's just getting up and about to slip his phone into his back pocket when suddenly it rings, playing a ringtone he doesn't even remember having. Up pops the caller's picture, a person with an ear-to-ear grin and bright white teeth. The picture is two years old and very strange to look at at this very moment. He glances into the studio where Monty is glaring at him but Andy gives him a "Take your time" look. Andy always knows somehow. Cook supposes that's why he's his best friend. Cook turns his back to the glass and answers the call.
"Hello?"
"Hi."
It's just "Hi" for a long moment. Cook can hear him breathing, pictures him chewing on his lip. Cook just knows that kid is chewing on his lip right now.
"Or should I say 'Hola'?" Cook corrects.
A laugh like heaven raining down sunbeams fills Cook's ear and his heart. He chuckles to himself and can't believe he's hearing that sound again. He was sure he'd forgotten it. His eyes trail up to the fluorescent lights above him, hoping their harshness will burn away his tears.
"You saw my video?"
"Well, you sent it to me."
"Yeah, I know."
It's weird, Cook thinks, how awkward it is to talk to someone you haven't spoken to in such a long time. There's so much to catch up on, but then again, nothing at all. How is he supposed to summarize two years, what's the most important thing to say? How does he keep from being a repeat of all the questions of "How are you?" and "How was your trip?"
"I hope you plan on growing that hair back out," he decides to say. "I can't grip it between my fingers the way it is now."
A too-loud embarrassed laugh comes in response, then, "Oh gosh, Cook!"
Cook laughs. He's sure Lupe is standing right next to her son, which ensures even more embarrassment on David's behalf. Cook loves that, of course.
"Hey, I'm in the studio right now, so I can't talk much. Think you'll be out my way any time soon so we can have lunch?"
"Oh yeah!" David replies excitedly, snapping right back into his old self. "Mom wants us to go for a family trip since I'm home. Disneyland is high on the wish list, I think."
"Awesome," Cook says, still mulling over this voice that is so familiar and yet has grown so much. It hasn't changed tone so much as it has steadiness, confidence, but with a light touch of lingering giggle. Laugh, he should really think of it as now. Laugh, not giggle.
There's a hard rap on the glass and Cook shoots sharp daggers at Monty. Andy is laughing. The rest of the band looks bored. Cook supposes he should go.
"Okay, they're harassing me now," Cook says. "Gotta go. Let me know when you'll be here, okay?"
"Of course," David replies. "Um, I'll call you later? Or you can call me, when you get home. Let's have a Skype dinner." There's a pause. "Is Skype still a thing?"
Cook barks a laugh, shaking his head. "Yes, Skype's still a thing," he assures his friend. "And that's a great idea, I can't believe I didn't think of it. We used to do it all the time."
"I've thought about it a lot," David replies quietly, with old, familiar timidity.
"I've thought about you a whole hell of a lot," Cook says.
Quiet again. Plain, thoughtful quiet.
"Talk to you later, David Cook," David says. Cook's knees go a little wobbly when he hears that voice say his name.
"Talk to you later, Archie," Cook replies. He lingers a long time, listening to the sounds on the other end of the line: breathing, rustling, a little bit of Spanish, then a click.
Returning to the studio, Cook is met with Monty cheering with joy. Andy gives him a wink as his best friend takes up a guitar beside him.
"How's the kid?" Andy asks as naturally as if he'd asked about the weather.
"He's really good -- wait, how did you know?"
Andy smiles and adjusts some knobs on his guitar. "Let's do the song from the top one more time, then call it a day, huh? I'm tired and Jen's gonna be annoyed if I get home late again for the third day in a row."
Cook eyes Andy for the longest while, but finally decides to let it go. Asking questions would only waste time, and right now every minute that got away from him was a tragic loss.
"Sounds good," Cook agrees, then leads the band into the best take they'd done all day.
.
[author] kissontheneck
[pairing] Cookleta (YAY!)
[rating] G
[word count] 1433
[summary] HE'S HOME.
[disclaimer] Surely, I have nothing to do with either of these fine men, no matter how much I wish I did.
[author's notes] GUYS, HE'S HOME. (for rajkumari905)
"Okay, I like that. Andy, you wanna play that one more time just so we have a backup recording?"
Andy nods as he fingers his guitar strings. Cook is just counting down for the restart when his phone, sitting abandoned and long forgotten on an unused bass drum vibrates violently, rattles the instrument and falls loudly to the floor.
"Uh, sorry guys," Cook apologizes, truly embarrassed. "I forgot to turn it off after lunch, I guess."
Quickly running to his phone, he scowls at the offending piece of technology as he presses hard on the power button in order to shut it off. But just as the "Slide to power off" message comes up, he notes who the incoming message is from. It makes him nearly drop the phone again.
"Uh, take five, guys," he says hurriedly, not even making eye contact with anyone in the band as he slips into the adjoining room where visitors sometimes come to watch the magic of music recording.
Plopping down onto one of the squashy couches, Cook pokes at his phone, curious about this ghostly message. Ghostly because it's unexpected, and seems to come from another lifetime. Cook hasn't spoken to its sender in a very long time, not that he hasn't wanted to.
One new message from Archie.
Holy Christ.
Still convinced it's a dream (or possibly a nightmare if he wakes up and finds out this isn't actually real), Cook opens the message, staring like he's trying to navigate a new iOS update. There's just a link. A bright blue, underlined YouTube link, resting there underneath a stream of saved past messages.
Cook looks around and notes Monty squinting at him through the glass.
"Would you mind your own business!" Cook says loudly as he digs into his pocket for his ear buds. Ignoring his bass player, he plugs into his phone, not sure what he's about to witness.
For some reason it takes an entire minute for the thing to load because the wi-fi in the recording studio is in fact shit, but the agonizing wait is worth it. David shows up on the screen wearing a suit and tie, hair clipped very close to his head.
"Hola," says the cheerful David Archuleta. "Hey, everyone. It's Elder Archuleta here. And... --" David stutters briefly. "I'm home." He laughs and looks away, then back again. "I'm home."
Ten seconds. It's just ten seconds but it's ten seconds more than Cook has had in two goddamn years. He suddenly realizes he's gripping his phone really tightly and tries to ease up on it before he gets a hand cramp.
Glancing up, Cook sees that Monty has disappeared, at least for now, so he hits replay on the player. "Hola, hey, home." Key words that stand out as Cook watches it two or three times more. He pays closer attention as David laughs, quietly, shyly, as if he's embarrassed by his thoughts or feels silly making this ten second declaration.
Cook knows he's embarrassed for having to make this ten second declaration.
"Dave, what are you doing, man?" Monty knocks on the glass, scaring Cook half to death.
"Hang on!" Cook shouts back, more irritably than he intended. He gives Monty "Oops, sorry" eyes and then turns back to his phone. He hunkers down and presses play again.
"Hola... hey, everybody... I'm home."
Cook now recognizes the deep emotion under that soft voice and knows another reason the video is so short: David is seriously on the verge of crying. Cook can't blame him, and clicks the sleep button on his phone before he starts crying himself. He decides he'll play it cool for a bit, let David visit with his family and put on some clothes that don't include a clip-on tie. He doesn't want to seem too eager, after all, and he does have some work to do.
He's just getting up and about to slip his phone into his back pocket when suddenly it rings, playing a ringtone he doesn't even remember having. Up pops the caller's picture, a person with an ear-to-ear grin and bright white teeth. The picture is two years old and very strange to look at at this very moment. He glances into the studio where Monty is glaring at him but Andy gives him a "Take your time" look. Andy always knows somehow. Cook supposes that's why he's his best friend. Cook turns his back to the glass and answers the call.
"Hello?"
"Hi."
It's just "Hi" for a long moment. Cook can hear him breathing, pictures him chewing on his lip. Cook just knows that kid is chewing on his lip right now.
"Or should I say 'Hola'?" Cook corrects.
A laugh like heaven raining down sunbeams fills Cook's ear and his heart. He chuckles to himself and can't believe he's hearing that sound again. He was sure he'd forgotten it. His eyes trail up to the fluorescent lights above him, hoping their harshness will burn away his tears.
"You saw my video?"
"Well, you sent it to me."
"Yeah, I know."
It's weird, Cook thinks, how awkward it is to talk to someone you haven't spoken to in such a long time. There's so much to catch up on, but then again, nothing at all. How is he supposed to summarize two years, what's the most important thing to say? How does he keep from being a repeat of all the questions of "How are you?" and "How was your trip?"
"I hope you plan on growing that hair back out," he decides to say. "I can't grip it between my fingers the way it is now."
A too-loud embarrassed laugh comes in response, then, "Oh gosh, Cook!"
Cook laughs. He's sure Lupe is standing right next to her son, which ensures even more embarrassment on David's behalf. Cook loves that, of course.
"Hey, I'm in the studio right now, so I can't talk much. Think you'll be out my way any time soon so we can have lunch?"
"Oh yeah!" David replies excitedly, snapping right back into his old self. "Mom wants us to go for a family trip since I'm home. Disneyland is high on the wish list, I think."
"Awesome," Cook says, still mulling over this voice that is so familiar and yet has grown so much. It hasn't changed tone so much as it has steadiness, confidence, but with a light touch of lingering giggle. Laugh, he should really think of it as now. Laugh, not giggle.
There's a hard rap on the glass and Cook shoots sharp daggers at Monty. Andy is laughing. The rest of the band looks bored. Cook supposes he should go.
"Okay, they're harassing me now," Cook says. "Gotta go. Let me know when you'll be here, okay?"
"Of course," David replies. "Um, I'll call you later? Or you can call me, when you get home. Let's have a Skype dinner." There's a pause. "Is Skype still a thing?"
Cook barks a laugh, shaking his head. "Yes, Skype's still a thing," he assures his friend. "And that's a great idea, I can't believe I didn't think of it. We used to do it all the time."
"I've thought about it a lot," David replies quietly, with old, familiar timidity.
"I've thought about you a whole hell of a lot," Cook says.
Quiet again. Plain, thoughtful quiet.
"Talk to you later, David Cook," David says. Cook's knees go a little wobbly when he hears that voice say his name.
"Talk to you later, Archie," Cook replies. He lingers a long time, listening to the sounds on the other end of the line: breathing, rustling, a little bit of Spanish, then a click.
Returning to the studio, Cook is met with Monty cheering with joy. Andy gives him a wink as his best friend takes up a guitar beside him.
"How's the kid?" Andy asks as naturally as if he'd asked about the weather.
"He's really good -- wait, how did you know?"
Andy smiles and adjusts some knobs on his guitar. "Let's do the song from the top one more time, then call it a day, huh? I'm tired and Jen's gonna be annoyed if I get home late again for the third day in a row."
Cook eyes Andy for the longest while, but finally decides to let it go. Asking questions would only waste time, and right now every minute that got away from him was a tragic loss.
"Sounds good," Cook agrees, then leads the band into the best take they'd done all day.
.