Ours Chapter 3
Title: Ours
Pairing(s): David Cook/David Archuleta
Rating: PG to NC-17
Genre: AU
Disclaimer: The real-life characters do not belong to me, and the story is fictional.
Summary: A year after his high school graduation, David is living with Cook in L.A., but keeping their love hidden from the public eye brings up obstacles that threaten their relationship.
Author's Notes: This fic was originally posted at cookleta from September 2008 to October 2009. :)
3
I. David Cook.
David and I never carpooled to work because everyone else at the label, for all they knew, thought we were just incredibly close friends. I usually left the apartment about ten minutes after David and pushed through the glass doors just in time to never get a complaint about lateness.
I saw a few extra faces in the studio when I walked in and I raised an eyebrow at my manager, who just waved a hand toward the two leather sofas placed around the coffee table at one end of the room.
“What’s going on?” I asked as I sat down.
“David, the VMAs are coming up,” the exec announced in a hushed voice, as if it was classified information.
“I… have been informed,” I assured him. “And from what I remember, they’re not until September.”
“Right,” he said quickly, not so subtly throwing a look at my manager. “I just wanted to let you know that, uh, we think you need a date.”
“A date?”
“Yes, someone to take to the VMAs.”
“Someone of my choice?” A certain black-haired nineteen-year-old came to mind.
“Well, kind of.”
“What does that mean?” I prompted, a bit irritated at all the secrecy and beating around the bush.
“Cook, we had someone in mind,” my manager jumped in. He placed a hand on my shoulder, a gesture I found annoyingly patronizing. I shrugged it off.
“Oh? Well who is it, Mom and Dad?”
The exec furrowed his brow and shot me a warning look. “Veronica Cortez,” he said dryly.
“What? No, you can’t -”
“Cook, you know how we feel about you. We don’t give the same kind of artistic liberty to the other musicians signed with us.”
“Don’t change the subject. You’re telling me -”
“Sometimes,” he cut me off. “Sometimes it’s wise to listen to the people who have been in this industry for long enough to know how the business aspect is supposed to run.”
“Apparently that involves matchmaking.”
“Her career is booming right now, and it will only escalate in the next few months. It’ll be for your benefit.”
“I don’t believe this,” I laughed and stood up from my seat. “You sound like a parent from the seventeenth century and you.” I pointed at my manager “It’s just incredible how you expect me to just accept this with a smile.”
“This kind of thing happens all the time, Cook,” he replied.
“Not to me, it won’t,” I shot back and stalked out of the studio.
Pulling a cold soda from the vending machine, I wandered down the corridor and leaned against the wall. It was not even eleven o’clock but I felt the energy already drained from every part of my body.
My manager was right. Celebrity hook-ups were arranged frequently in Hollywood with necessary nudges from the execs, and obviously the one heading up my label was no exception.
I cringed at the thought, and again at the name that had been brought up. Veronica Cortez was a supermodel, whose face was gracing numerous magazines in stands all over the country and abroad. It was difficult to pick up an issue of my usual Newsweek or even the Sunday paper without catching a glossy glimpse of her on some other publication.
That was as close as I had come to meeting her.
And as far as I was concerned, it was going to stay that way.
II. David Archuleta.
The recording engineers came through the door seconds after I hung up my cell, so I had to brush everything off and put on a smile.
Going back and forth between short meetings and recording sessions wore me out quickly, and I barely had enough time to think more about the conversation I’d had with Cook.
Before I knew it, the bright red numbers on the digital clock was showing a quarter to five. My mind shifted back to what Cook had said this morning about having dinner, and I hastily grabbed my jacket before rushing out of the studio.
I stood out by the curb, lifting my face up toward the sun. The muscles in my face, which had gone taut from all of my built-up anxieties, seemed to relax a tiny bit under the California rays.
“David?” an excited voice called out my name.
I opened my eyes and found a brunette woman standing a few feet away behind a stroller. She clasped a hand over her mouth when I looked at her.
“Oh wow, it is you!”
“H-hi,” I greeted her and held out a hand, which she shook with enormous zeal.
“My older daughter absolutely loves you. She listens to ‘Crush’ all the time. We’re all huge fans.”
“Thank you so much.”
As she pulled out a scrap of paper and pen for an autograph, my gaze wandered over to her baby. I got down on one knee to look under the hood that served as the shade. The small bed of hair was brunette just like her mother’s, and to my delight, she giggled when I made eye contact with her.
“She’s beautiful,” I told the woman when I got back up to sign the memo pad for her.
We chatted for a few more minutes before I leaned down to say goodbye to her daughter. I reached out and ghosted my finger carefully across her rosy cheek, amazed at the softness of a baby’s skin. I stood back up and watched as the woman continued her way down the street with the stroller.
“Archie?”
I spun around and spotted Cook standing by the building entrance.
“Cook! When did you get out?”
“Just now. Who was that?”
“She was passing by with her baby and she stopped by to tell me that her older daughter is a fan of mine. We talked for a little bit.”
“You could’ve been swarmed by the paparazzi standing here out in the open,” he scolded lightly, pulling me back toward the revolving glass doors.
“I’m fine,” I told him. I tried to hide my grimace when he untangled our intertwined fingers as soon as we entered the lobby.
“Just be careful, alright?” His tone was brisk. Something was bothering him, but I wasn’t sure if it was okay to ask about it.
“Cook, you should’ve seen the baby. She was so adorable.”
He didn’t say anything, and suddenly it dawned on me that our talk on a similar topic had not gone so smoothly. I bit my lip, silently rebuking myself for possibly agitating Cook even more.
“Where do you want to eat, Archie?”
“Um, anywhere is fine. You know I’m not really a picky eater.”
“Hmm, true,” he chuckled and reached out to ruffle my hair. I loved it when he did that - not that I would ever verbalize it.
“Hey, we could go to that -”
“David Cook?”
We both turned toward the unfamiliar voice and found ourselves face to face with a striking woman in a sapphire dress with a hem so far above the knee that it made me flush. Her bronze skin made her features very distinctive, and I continued to look at her suspiciously as she sent a penetrating gaze Cook’s way.
“I’m Veronica. Pleasure to meet you.”
Her words were dipped in a thick Spanish accent. Completely confused by the situation, I glanced over at Cook, whose expression was oddly distorted with more anguish and frustration than anything else.
“Surprising,” she sniffed and retracted her hand when she realized that Cook wasn’t going to shake it. “I thought you would be a gentleman.”
“You’re wasting your time,” Cook said stiffly. “I don’t know what they told you to get you to come here but I have no intention of playing along with the set-up.”
Cook obviously knew who this woman was and why she’d approached him. All I could do was stand back, but the hostility was making me nervous. Veronica’s face froze initially at Cook’s words, but she regained composure and stepped closer to him.
“Oh, you don’t understand,” she countered. “I’m here on my own will. But you seem to having a bad day, so I’ll come back later.”
Cook blatantly ignored her.
“Come on, Archie,” he called to me.
I felt Veronica’s eyes focus on me when I nodded in response.
“I’ll take a rain check on our dinner, David,” she decided authoritatively, as if Cook had offered her a choice. I saw Cook frown as her heels click-clacked away from us on the marble floor.
“What in the world was that?” I demanded.
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
“Really? That’s interesting because that woman just acted like she was meeting you on a date.”
“Arch, just drop it,” he snapped.
We fell silent.
“… I’ll see you at home,” I broke the quiet, instinctively remembering to whisper so no one would overhear us.
I headed toward the stairs so I wouldn’t have to wait to take the elevator down to the parking garage. My eyes began to sting on the way, and I collapsed forward when I got into the driver’s seat. Sobbing into the tough leather covering the steering wheel, I wondered what was happening to us, as bewilderment and fear began to taunt me.
Pairing(s): David Cook/David Archuleta
Rating: PG to NC-17
Genre: AU
Disclaimer: The real-life characters do not belong to me, and the story is fictional.
Summary: A year after his high school graduation, David is living with Cook in L.A., but keeping their love hidden from the public eye brings up obstacles that threaten their relationship.
Author's Notes: This fic was originally posted at cookleta from September 2008 to October 2009. :)
3
I. David Cook.
David and I never carpooled to work because everyone else at the label, for all they knew, thought we were just incredibly close friends. I usually left the apartment about ten minutes after David and pushed through the glass doors just in time to never get a complaint about lateness.
I saw a few extra faces in the studio when I walked in and I raised an eyebrow at my manager, who just waved a hand toward the two leather sofas placed around the coffee table at one end of the room.
“What’s going on?” I asked as I sat down.
“David, the VMAs are coming up,” the exec announced in a hushed voice, as if it was classified information.
“I… have been informed,” I assured him. “And from what I remember, they’re not until September.”
“Right,” he said quickly, not so subtly throwing a look at my manager. “I just wanted to let you know that, uh, we think you need a date.”
“A date?”
“Yes, someone to take to the VMAs.”
“Someone of my choice?” A certain black-haired nineteen-year-old came to mind.
“Well, kind of.”
“What does that mean?” I prompted, a bit irritated at all the secrecy and beating around the bush.
“Cook, we had someone in mind,” my manager jumped in. He placed a hand on my shoulder, a gesture I found annoyingly patronizing. I shrugged it off.
“Oh? Well who is it, Mom and Dad?”
The exec furrowed his brow and shot me a warning look. “Veronica Cortez,” he said dryly.
“What? No, you can’t -”
“Cook, you know how we feel about you. We don’t give the same kind of artistic liberty to the other musicians signed with us.”
“Don’t change the subject. You’re telling me -”
“Sometimes,” he cut me off. “Sometimes it’s wise to listen to the people who have been in this industry for long enough to know how the business aspect is supposed to run.”
“Apparently that involves matchmaking.”
“Her career is booming right now, and it will only escalate in the next few months. It’ll be for your benefit.”
“I don’t believe this,” I laughed and stood up from my seat. “You sound like a parent from the seventeenth century and you.” I pointed at my manager “It’s just incredible how you expect me to just accept this with a smile.”
“This kind of thing happens all the time, Cook,” he replied.
“Not to me, it won’t,” I shot back and stalked out of the studio.
Pulling a cold soda from the vending machine, I wandered down the corridor and leaned against the wall. It was not even eleven o’clock but I felt the energy already drained from every part of my body.
My manager was right. Celebrity hook-ups were arranged frequently in Hollywood with necessary nudges from the execs, and obviously the one heading up my label was no exception.
I cringed at the thought, and again at the name that had been brought up. Veronica Cortez was a supermodel, whose face was gracing numerous magazines in stands all over the country and abroad. It was difficult to pick up an issue of my usual Newsweek or even the Sunday paper without catching a glossy glimpse of her on some other publication.
That was as close as I had come to meeting her.
And as far as I was concerned, it was going to stay that way.
II. David Archuleta.
The recording engineers came through the door seconds after I hung up my cell, so I had to brush everything off and put on a smile.
Going back and forth between short meetings and recording sessions wore me out quickly, and I barely had enough time to think more about the conversation I’d had with Cook.
Before I knew it, the bright red numbers on the digital clock was showing a quarter to five. My mind shifted back to what Cook had said this morning about having dinner, and I hastily grabbed my jacket before rushing out of the studio.
I stood out by the curb, lifting my face up toward the sun. The muscles in my face, which had gone taut from all of my built-up anxieties, seemed to relax a tiny bit under the California rays.
“David?” an excited voice called out my name.
I opened my eyes and found a brunette woman standing a few feet away behind a stroller. She clasped a hand over her mouth when I looked at her.
“Oh wow, it is you!”
“H-hi,” I greeted her and held out a hand, which she shook with enormous zeal.
“My older daughter absolutely loves you. She listens to ‘Crush’ all the time. We’re all huge fans.”
“Thank you so much.”
As she pulled out a scrap of paper and pen for an autograph, my gaze wandered over to her baby. I got down on one knee to look under the hood that served as the shade. The small bed of hair was brunette just like her mother’s, and to my delight, she giggled when I made eye contact with her.
“She’s beautiful,” I told the woman when I got back up to sign the memo pad for her.
We chatted for a few more minutes before I leaned down to say goodbye to her daughter. I reached out and ghosted my finger carefully across her rosy cheek, amazed at the softness of a baby’s skin. I stood back up and watched as the woman continued her way down the street with the stroller.
“Archie?”
I spun around and spotted Cook standing by the building entrance.
“Cook! When did you get out?”
“Just now. Who was that?”
“She was passing by with her baby and she stopped by to tell me that her older daughter is a fan of mine. We talked for a little bit.”
“You could’ve been swarmed by the paparazzi standing here out in the open,” he scolded lightly, pulling me back toward the revolving glass doors.
“I’m fine,” I told him. I tried to hide my grimace when he untangled our intertwined fingers as soon as we entered the lobby.
“Just be careful, alright?” His tone was brisk. Something was bothering him, but I wasn’t sure if it was okay to ask about it.
“Cook, you should’ve seen the baby. She was so adorable.”
He didn’t say anything, and suddenly it dawned on me that our talk on a similar topic had not gone so smoothly. I bit my lip, silently rebuking myself for possibly agitating Cook even more.
“Where do you want to eat, Archie?”
“Um, anywhere is fine. You know I’m not really a picky eater.”
“Hmm, true,” he chuckled and reached out to ruffle my hair. I loved it when he did that - not that I would ever verbalize it.
“Hey, we could go to that -”
“David Cook?”
We both turned toward the unfamiliar voice and found ourselves face to face with a striking woman in a sapphire dress with a hem so far above the knee that it made me flush. Her bronze skin made her features very distinctive, and I continued to look at her suspiciously as she sent a penetrating gaze Cook’s way.
“I’m Veronica. Pleasure to meet you.”
Her words were dipped in a thick Spanish accent. Completely confused by the situation, I glanced over at Cook, whose expression was oddly distorted with more anguish and frustration than anything else.
“Surprising,” she sniffed and retracted her hand when she realized that Cook wasn’t going to shake it. “I thought you would be a gentleman.”
“You’re wasting your time,” Cook said stiffly. “I don’t know what they told you to get you to come here but I have no intention of playing along with the set-up.”
Cook obviously knew who this woman was and why she’d approached him. All I could do was stand back, but the hostility was making me nervous. Veronica’s face froze initially at Cook’s words, but she regained composure and stepped closer to him.
“Oh, you don’t understand,” she countered. “I’m here on my own will. But you seem to having a bad day, so I’ll come back later.”
Cook blatantly ignored her.
“Come on, Archie,” he called to me.
I felt Veronica’s eyes focus on me when I nodded in response.
“I’ll take a rain check on our dinner, David,” she decided authoritatively, as if Cook had offered her a choice. I saw Cook frown as her heels click-clacked away from us on the marble floor.
“What in the world was that?” I demanded.
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
“Really? That’s interesting because that woman just acted like she was meeting you on a date.”
“Arch, just drop it,” he snapped.
We fell silent.
“… I’ll see you at home,” I broke the quiet, instinctively remembering to whisper so no one would overhear us.
I headed toward the stairs so I wouldn’t have to wait to take the elevator down to the parking garage. My eyes began to sting on the way, and I collapsed forward when I got into the driver’s seat. Sobbing into the tough leather covering the steering wheel, I wondered what was happening to us, as bewilderment and fear began to taunt me.