Save Me Chapter 3
Title: Save Me
Pairing(s): David Cook/David Archuleta
Rating: PG-13 to NC-17
Genre: AU
Disclaimer: The real-life characters do not belong to me, and the story is fictional.
Summary: David Archuleta is desperate, but when he meets and gets to know David Cook, he must decide if their unconventional relationship is merely a web of lies or his only hope to untangle a complicated knot in his life.
3
As if time has stopped, the two remain still, rooted to the spot. What feels like an eternity passes before Cook breaks the frozen frame and walks toward David, who is gazing back at him with a mixture of curiosity and nonchalance. Cook wonders what he should say. Was he supposed to introduce himself? Such a common formality seems ridiculous in a situation like this, in which anonymity is usually the highest priority. Instead, he speaks the first question that comes to mind as he continues to hungrily observe more details of the boy’s delicate features.
“How old are you?”
David chuckles at the inquiry in a manner that is disconcerting to the older man. The low sound and his unsurprised expression, as if he had been expecting Cook’s question, seem more befitting of someone much older and perhaps more jaded. The dimples that appear at the corners of his mouth during the short laugh and the wide, dark brown eyes are what counter this manifestation of overt maturity.
Locking his eyes with Cook’s, the boy gives the hint of a smile. “Old enough to be sitting here.”
Cook raises an eyebrow.
David catches this, and lets a small but exasperated sigh escape his lips. “Two years short,” he confesses with a shrug. “He lets me hang out here though.” He glances over his shoulder at the bartender, a friendly looking guy with a head full of dreadlocks and piercing, blue eyes. Under the dim lighting, Cook spots the name on the tag pinned to the left side of his shirt: Jason.
“Nineteen,” Cook breathes, a wave of guilt washing over him. Eight years his minor. Inside the pocket of his pants, his fingers begin to fidget with the cool leather of his wallet.
“Does it matter?”
The pointed question catches Cook off guard. “What?”
“You need to relax,” he responds matter-of-factly. But even with about a million thoughts swimming around in his head, Cook notices that the coy and assured demeanor is at odds with the person giving it off. There is a fragility that Cook can sense in him, and this discrepancy is the most intriguing thing Cook has encountered in a very long time.
+
Well I never pray
But tonight I'm on my knees
I need to hear some sounds that recognize the pain in me
I let the melody shine, let it cleanse my mind, I feel free now
'Cause it's a bittersweet symphony, this life
+
Brooke and her husband are putting away the last of the dried dishes into the cabinet after dinner when they hear Amber call them from the doorway of the kitchen.
“What it is, sweetie?” Brooke asks, her forehead wrinkling in concern when she sees Amber clutch tightly at the blanket around her shoulders.
“I feel really sick.”
“Were you okay this morning?” Dave kneels in front of Amber and places a palm on her forehead. Her skin is much too warm, and he quickly calls Brooke over. “Honey, I think she might be coming down with the flu.”
“I probably caught the bug at school,” Amber explains, her breathing a little rough.
“Why don’t you go back to the bedroom,” Brooke suggests. “We’ll bring you some medicine that you can take before getting a good night’s sleep.”
Wearily, Amber nods and heads down the hallway a bit sluggishly, the hem of the large blanket trailing along behind her on the hardwood. Brooke watches her worriedly before turning toward Dave, who is emerging from the walk-in pantry with the pediatric flu medicine that David had given them to keep at their apartment for Amber.
“The flu season started early this year,” he says. “You know Paul from work? He’s been out for two days already. It’s a good thing that the weekend starts tomorrow.”
“Dave?”
“Yeah?”
“Should I call Archie?” To avoid confusion between her friend and her husband, Brooke had thought of a nickname for David. At first, David had complained that it sounded like an old man’s name, but he did not mind so much now that it had caught on and become familiar among them.
“I’m not sure.” Dave pauses. “Didn’t he ask that we don’t unless it’s an absolute emergency?”
“I know,” Brooke trails off. “It’s just… He always tells me to call if Amber’s sick. He says that he needs to be with her when she is.”
“… Maybe we should let Amber sleep for a bit and see if her fever goes down.” Brooke looks unsure, but Dave pulls her into a hug. “I’m going to take the medicine to Amber. Don’t worry, okay?”
Appreciative of her husband’s effort to comfort her, Brooke manages a weak smile. She sits down on one of the stools next to the island and places her arms on the smooth countertop. David has never mentioned any specifics about what he does and why he has such odd hours, but neither she nor Dave asks any questions. Having become close with David despite his reserved personality, the two have no intention of losing that by trying to find out more about a part of David’s life that he is not ready to share.
Brooke remembers the first time she met David and Amber almost two years ago. She had not run into the siblings until a few days after they had moved in next door.
She spotted the two coming out of the elevator as she was leaving to go to the bank.
“Hey,” she greeted the dark-haired teenager and the smaller girl clutching his free hand, as he was holding groceries in the other. “I’m Brooke. I live in 3B.”
He set down the paper bag to shake her hand. “Hi, I’m David, and this is my sister Amber.”
Brooke could not help but smile at the boy’s shy but amiable disposition. “What brings you to Manhattan?”
A shadow crossed his face, but faded before Brooke could think twice about it. “We used to live on Long Island.” He glanced cautiously down at his sister, who was preoccupied with a sweet snack had not heard Brooke’s question.
Catching on, Brooke simply said, “I hope you love it here.”
David looked both relieved and grateful. “Thanks, Brooke.”
Brooke sighs and rises from her seat to check up on Amber, hoping that she will be okay so David would be spared from any consternation.
+
Putting on a robe, Cook stares at his reflection in the large bathroom mirror, partially fogged up from his shower. The only sound echoing through the space is that of water dripping from his hair and fingertips onto the marble floor. Outside the door is a complete stranger. Cook knows absolutely nothing about him except that their initial meeting had fueled emotions that he had kept out of the way, mainly so they would not interfere with his work. This is unnerving because suddenly Cook feels like he is unraveling, losing the grip on self-control.
He finally steps out into the suite after a few more minutes. His footsteps are silent on the plush carpet, and the boy does not notice that he is standing just a few feet away. With his dark lashes cast down, he is tracing the patterns on the comforter, and the sight is so vulnerable and innocent that Cook cannot help but stare, not wanting to disturb the moment.
David is the one, however, who looks up shortly thereafter.
“Oh, I didn’t…” His cheeks turn a faint shade of red, but Cook wonders if it is just his imagination.
“It’s fine,” Cook reassures him, moving closer to the bed and David, who remains sitting on the edge of the mattress.
Out of nervous habit, David unconsciously runs his tongue over his lips. Seeing the tip of the pink muscle move swiftly across the luscious mouth sends a small shudder through Cook, who wants nothing more than to kiss him. He carefully places a hand on either shoulder of David’s slender frame and leans in, gently pushing David down until he is lying on his back.
But when Cook’s lips are just millimeters away from his own, David turns his head slowly, eluding the kiss.
“Anything but that,” he whispers softly. His breaths are shaky and his eyelashes flutter as if he is trembling.
Cook pulls back and nods. “Okay,” he answers.
Relief crosses David’s face but a more darkly seductive one replaces it with a prompt transition. He sits up and Cook goes along with the movement, soon finding himself in the position that David was in before. His heart lurches when his eyes meet David’s, in which he now sees a rich olive green as well as a warm brown.
Loosening the belt of the robe, David pushes the collars apart before bending down to bury his lips in the base of Cook’s neck.
Pairing(s): David Cook/David Archuleta
Rating: PG-13 to NC-17
Genre: AU
Disclaimer: The real-life characters do not belong to me, and the story is fictional.
Summary: David Archuleta is desperate, but when he meets and gets to know David Cook, he must decide if their unconventional relationship is merely a web of lies or his only hope to untangle a complicated knot in his life.
3
As if time has stopped, the two remain still, rooted to the spot. What feels like an eternity passes before Cook breaks the frozen frame and walks toward David, who is gazing back at him with a mixture of curiosity and nonchalance. Cook wonders what he should say. Was he supposed to introduce himself? Such a common formality seems ridiculous in a situation like this, in which anonymity is usually the highest priority. Instead, he speaks the first question that comes to mind as he continues to hungrily observe more details of the boy’s delicate features.
“How old are you?”
David chuckles at the inquiry in a manner that is disconcerting to the older man. The low sound and his unsurprised expression, as if he had been expecting Cook’s question, seem more befitting of someone much older and perhaps more jaded. The dimples that appear at the corners of his mouth during the short laugh and the wide, dark brown eyes are what counter this manifestation of overt maturity.
Locking his eyes with Cook’s, the boy gives the hint of a smile. “Old enough to be sitting here.”
Cook raises an eyebrow.
David catches this, and lets a small but exasperated sigh escape his lips. “Two years short,” he confesses with a shrug. “He lets me hang out here though.” He glances over his shoulder at the bartender, a friendly looking guy with a head full of dreadlocks and piercing, blue eyes. Under the dim lighting, Cook spots the name on the tag pinned to the left side of his shirt: Jason.
“Nineteen,” Cook breathes, a wave of guilt washing over him. Eight years his minor. Inside the pocket of his pants, his fingers begin to fidget with the cool leather of his wallet.
“Does it matter?”
The pointed question catches Cook off guard. “What?”
“You need to relax,” he responds matter-of-factly. But even with about a million thoughts swimming around in his head, Cook notices that the coy and assured demeanor is at odds with the person giving it off. There is a fragility that Cook can sense in him, and this discrepancy is the most intriguing thing Cook has encountered in a very long time.
+
Well I never pray
But tonight I'm on my knees
I need to hear some sounds that recognize the pain in me
I let the melody shine, let it cleanse my mind, I feel free now
'Cause it's a bittersweet symphony, this life
+
Brooke and her husband are putting away the last of the dried dishes into the cabinet after dinner when they hear Amber call them from the doorway of the kitchen.
“What it is, sweetie?” Brooke asks, her forehead wrinkling in concern when she sees Amber clutch tightly at the blanket around her shoulders.
“I feel really sick.”
“Were you okay this morning?” Dave kneels in front of Amber and places a palm on her forehead. Her skin is much too warm, and he quickly calls Brooke over. “Honey, I think she might be coming down with the flu.”
“I probably caught the bug at school,” Amber explains, her breathing a little rough.
“Why don’t you go back to the bedroom,” Brooke suggests. “We’ll bring you some medicine that you can take before getting a good night’s sleep.”
Wearily, Amber nods and heads down the hallway a bit sluggishly, the hem of the large blanket trailing along behind her on the hardwood. Brooke watches her worriedly before turning toward Dave, who is emerging from the walk-in pantry with the pediatric flu medicine that David had given them to keep at their apartment for Amber.
“The flu season started early this year,” he says. “You know Paul from work? He’s been out for two days already. It’s a good thing that the weekend starts tomorrow.”
“Dave?”
“Yeah?”
“Should I call Archie?” To avoid confusion between her friend and her husband, Brooke had thought of a nickname for David. At first, David had complained that it sounded like an old man’s name, but he did not mind so much now that it had caught on and become familiar among them.
“I’m not sure.” Dave pauses. “Didn’t he ask that we don’t unless it’s an absolute emergency?”
“I know,” Brooke trails off. “It’s just… He always tells me to call if Amber’s sick. He says that he needs to be with her when she is.”
“… Maybe we should let Amber sleep for a bit and see if her fever goes down.” Brooke looks unsure, but Dave pulls her into a hug. “I’m going to take the medicine to Amber. Don’t worry, okay?”
Appreciative of her husband’s effort to comfort her, Brooke manages a weak smile. She sits down on one of the stools next to the island and places her arms on the smooth countertop. David has never mentioned any specifics about what he does and why he has such odd hours, but neither she nor Dave asks any questions. Having become close with David despite his reserved personality, the two have no intention of losing that by trying to find out more about a part of David’s life that he is not ready to share.
Brooke remembers the first time she met David and Amber almost two years ago. She had not run into the siblings until a few days after they had moved in next door.
She spotted the two coming out of the elevator as she was leaving to go to the bank.
“Hey,” she greeted the dark-haired teenager and the smaller girl clutching his free hand, as he was holding groceries in the other. “I’m Brooke. I live in 3B.”
He set down the paper bag to shake her hand. “Hi, I’m David, and this is my sister Amber.”
Brooke could not help but smile at the boy’s shy but amiable disposition. “What brings you to Manhattan?”
A shadow crossed his face, but faded before Brooke could think twice about it. “We used to live on Long Island.” He glanced cautiously down at his sister, who was preoccupied with a sweet snack had not heard Brooke’s question.
Catching on, Brooke simply said, “I hope you love it here.”
David looked both relieved and grateful. “Thanks, Brooke.”
Brooke sighs and rises from her seat to check up on Amber, hoping that she will be okay so David would be spared from any consternation.
+
Putting on a robe, Cook stares at his reflection in the large bathroom mirror, partially fogged up from his shower. The only sound echoing through the space is that of water dripping from his hair and fingertips onto the marble floor. Outside the door is a complete stranger. Cook knows absolutely nothing about him except that their initial meeting had fueled emotions that he had kept out of the way, mainly so they would not interfere with his work. This is unnerving because suddenly Cook feels like he is unraveling, losing the grip on self-control.
He finally steps out into the suite after a few more minutes. His footsteps are silent on the plush carpet, and the boy does not notice that he is standing just a few feet away. With his dark lashes cast down, he is tracing the patterns on the comforter, and the sight is so vulnerable and innocent that Cook cannot help but stare, not wanting to disturb the moment.
David is the one, however, who looks up shortly thereafter.
“Oh, I didn’t…” His cheeks turn a faint shade of red, but Cook wonders if it is just his imagination.
“It’s fine,” Cook reassures him, moving closer to the bed and David, who remains sitting on the edge of the mattress.
Out of nervous habit, David unconsciously runs his tongue over his lips. Seeing the tip of the pink muscle move swiftly across the luscious mouth sends a small shudder through Cook, who wants nothing more than to kiss him. He carefully places a hand on either shoulder of David’s slender frame and leans in, gently pushing David down until he is lying on his back.
But when Cook’s lips are just millimeters away from his own, David turns his head slowly, eluding the kiss.
“Anything but that,” he whispers softly. His breaths are shaky and his eyelashes flutter as if he is trembling.
Cook pulls back and nods. “Okay,” he answers.
Relief crosses David’s face but a more darkly seductive one replaces it with a prompt transition. He sits up and Cook goes along with the movement, soon finding himself in the position that David was in before. His heart lurches when his eyes meet David’s, in which he now sees a rich olive green as well as a warm brown.
Loosening the belt of the robe, David pushes the collars apart before bending down to bury his lips in the base of Cook’s neck.