Ours Chapter 5
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. :)
5
I. David Archuleta.
I hurried into the building and across the lobby as quickly as I could, finding it incredibly challenging to maintain a straight face and appear like I was just running late. My phone had been ringing incessantly for the past twenty minutes, but I didn’t have to check to know who the caller was.
I reached into my pocket when the elevator doors shut in front of me and bit my lip as I scrolled down along the screen, a little aghast at the number of times Cook had called. I was still deciding whether or not to call him back when the phone started to ring again in my palm; I figured I had no choice.
“Hello?” I answered, already completely aware who was trying to reach me.
“Archie!” he exclaimed, his voice part breathless, part relieved.
“What is it?”
“You know why I’m calling. We need to talk.”
“I’ve already told you my side of it.”
By now, I was heading down the marble-covered hallway down to my studio. I passed Cook’s along the way but it was still dark inside, and I wondered if he was still at home.
“Arch, how can I tell you what you want to hear when you keep avoiding me?”
“… I don’t want you to tell me what I want to hear, Cook. I just need the truth.”
Opening the door, I walked inside.
“That’s not what I -”
“Cook I can’t, I don’t want to talk about this right now,” I cut him off harshly. “Look, we both have work to do. Now is just not the time.”
I hung up without giving him a chance to respond. Shutting the door behind me and locking it, I grabbed onto the handle, my entire body trembling from my efforts not to cry. When my breathing calmed, I turned around, only to jump and take a huge step backward, almost slamming into the wall behind me.
“W-who…” I gasped, staring at the girl standing by the recording booth.
“Sorry, I… I didn’t think you were going to get here this early.”
I just stood there flustered while the girl remained completely unfazed. Her almond-colored curls framed her face, and her dark brown eyes were bright and confident. My gaze traveled down to the can of Pledge and the roll of paper towels in her arms. She noticed this and gave a dry laugh.
“I’m a summer intern,” she explained. “But hey, who am I to say that you don’t learn something about the music industry when you’re cleaning a coffee table, right?”
She emphasized her words with a shrug that looked so carefree. I suddenly felt a pang of jealousy that I had to be so restrained and worry about everything while she, for some unknown reason, could seem so untroubled.
“You can leave your stuff on the table,” I offered, not exactly in the mood to strike up a conversation.
“Oh, but I should -”
“I need some time alone, alright?” My tone was sharper than I’d intended and it was wrong to project my anger onto someone who had nothing to do with any of this, but I just didn’t have the strength to control my emotions.
The girl shot me a dark look before setting the supplies down on the coffee table like I’d asked. She straightened the front of her t-shirt and walked past me to the door.
“I guess it’s not really my place to say this, but you might want to keep problems back home away from work.”
I turned around to look at her, my eyes wide in slight disbelief.
“I have enough respect for other people to not go around babbling about everything they’ve said, but there are employees here who would love to make a big deal out of your every little slip. So be careful.”
With that warning, she was out of the studio, leaving me a bit shocked. Had I grown too complacent that one stern piece of advice was enough to bother me? Was I letting my relationship with Cook take over my life?
But Cook was my life. All that I’d ever wanted.
I wondered what I’d gotten myself into. Suddenly I felt like I was living in a cage, having every word, every gesture, every change in expression up to judgment… Spectators all around me, peering in, pointing…
Was I even breathing?
+
For the first time since I’d started recording, I found it difficult to focus. The walls of the studio seemed to be closing in on me, making me feel claustrophobic. My inability to work was painfully obvious, and the recording engineers and the execs took notice. Luckily they didn’t think much of it since we’d never had problems before, and they decided to wrap things up early so that I could “ rest, feel refreshed, and be ready-to-go the next day.”
If only it were that simple.
I waited around until everyone had shuffled out of the room so I could finally have a little time to myself. Leaning back against the soft cushion of one of the swivel chairs, I closed my eyes, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. The throbbing ache at the side of my head was getting growingly acute, and I found myself gritting my teeth at the pain.
A knock on the door forced me to open my eyes, only to cover them again to block out the stabbing streams of fluorescent lighting. My head spun with nausea, and it took me a few moments to practically stumble across the studio. I did a double take when I saw who was on the other side.
“Jase!” As soon as I realized that it really was Jason standing there, I didn’t waste a second before jumping into his arms.
“Whoa, slow down, Archuleta,” he teased lightly.
“What are you doing in L.A.?”
“I thought that I would come check up on you. I wasn’t sure if you were all right after the last time we talked on the phone. Oh, and before you ask, you can take me out to your favorite clubs as a thank you gift.”
“Gosh… I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Well, I can see that. Is everything okay? … Davey?”
“No,” I replied. I realized then that I was crying. “It’s all… I don’t…”
“Hey… Just take a deep breath and tell me what’s going on,” Jason soothed. He tightened his embrace around my shoulders, which were shaking from the sobs.
“I’ve messed everything up,” I choked out. “What was I thinking? I mean I don’t belong here! Why didn’t anyone stop me? What am I doing, Jase?”
The words flew out of my mouth as a nearly incoherent string of sounds, and I had to pause and catch my breath at the end of it. I looked up at Jason for an answer but the only immediate response I found was in his gaze - pensive, pained… upset. There was a hint of regret that stood out to me, as if he was internally scolding himself for not protecting me sooner, for not preventing this.
“You’re right,” he said finally. He studied my confused expression and continued. “You don’t exactly fit the stereotype here. But that’s why you’re unique, Davey. That’s why you need to be strong, okay?”
Jason’s voice was so insistent and firm that I couldn’t disagree, even though I was scared out of my mind. Me? Strong? What made him believe that I could pull myself through?
“You don’t have to be afraid when there are so many people who truly love you,” he answered like he’d read my mind. “Like me, for instance,” he added at the end with a grin.
I smiled for the first time that day.
“You know what? I think you need some cheering up.”
“Always Captain Obvious,” I shot back.
“Yellow card, Archuleta,” he cautioned jokingly. “I’m in the mood for some ice cream and other comfort food items that clog my arteries as I consume them. Is pizza still your favorite?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” I asked, still stuck in a half-grimace at his comment about arteries.
“I’m checking to make sure that it isn’t like, caviar or something.” He saw me wrinkle my nose. “Good, because I love you like there’s no tomorrow but your hypothetical affection for sturgeon eyes may change my mind. Just saying.”
Feigning annoyance, I grabbed my jacket off the sofa and pulled Jason by the arm as I dashed out of the studio.
“Can we just go, already? You need to feed me first if I’m going to listen to you all evening.”
“Making the guest do all the work. Typical,” he muttered, the mischievous twinkle back in his eyes.
+
For some inexplicable reason, Los Angeles was different with Jason there. Everything about the city - the tall buildings, the glaring lights, the thick clouds in the sky - seemed less foreign. I felt as if I’d been transported back a few years to when Jason and I would walk home together, down a quiet street dotted with familiar houses. Those fifteen minutes were sometimes the best part of my day, our nonsensical banter and constant laughter mingling with the warm Utah air.
So much had changed since then, but being with Jason assured me that, for some things, I could pick up right where I had left off.
Jason held true to his word about comfort food. When we returned to his hotel room after a thorough Baskin Robbins raid, he’d picked up the phone almost immediately and ordered pizza. He gave me a small wink as he asked the employee for my favorite combination of toppings, and I just smiled back, thankful for the chance to take my mind off all the craziness going on in my life.
+
“So what time do you want me to drive you back?” Jason asked as he bit into the pizza.
“Um…” I stared a bit glumly at my own half-eaten slice. “Can I stay here for the night?”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I mean, you’re here and I just think…” I trailed off, still avoiding his eyes.
“Well, you’re welcome to, but shouldn’t you tell Cook?”
“No,” I blurted out too quickly. “It’s not like I’m a little kid, Jase.”
“You know this has nothing to do with that. Come on, it’s just a phone call.”
“Okay,” I relented. “I’ll be right back.”
Getting off the bed and taking my cell from the side table, I walked out into the hallway. Once the door closed, I stuck my phone back into my pocket and leaned against the wall and attempted to let out all of my frustration with a sigh.
I saw no point in calling Cook. We were clearly upset with each other, and I was determined to wait until we could talk without it turning into another fight. I was so weary of being upset with him, and tonight I just wanted to hang out with Jason like old times and forget about it all.
When I checked my phone to confirm that a few minutes had passed, I sauntered back in.
“He said it was fine,” I said quickly before I lost my nerve, setting the cell down on the desk.
Jason peered at me and I instantly felt guilty because his blue-grey eyes seemed to be able to see through my lie. I held my breath.
“So are you going to stand there or come and help me finish this thing?” he challenged, pointing at the pizza left in the flat cardboard box.
I grinned and went over to sit on the bed. Reaching for another slice, I secretly breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t noticed anything.
I was momentarily caught up in trying not to arouse more suspicion that I didn’t see the screen of my phone light up across the room, signaling an incoming call.
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. :)
5
I. David Archuleta.
I hurried into the building and across the lobby as quickly as I could, finding it incredibly challenging to maintain a straight face and appear like I was just running late. My phone had been ringing incessantly for the past twenty minutes, but I didn’t have to check to know who the caller was.
I reached into my pocket when the elevator doors shut in front of me and bit my lip as I scrolled down along the screen, a little aghast at the number of times Cook had called. I was still deciding whether or not to call him back when the phone started to ring again in my palm; I figured I had no choice.
“Hello?” I answered, already completely aware who was trying to reach me.
“Archie!” he exclaimed, his voice part breathless, part relieved.
“What is it?”
“You know why I’m calling. We need to talk.”
“I’ve already told you my side of it.”
By now, I was heading down the marble-covered hallway down to my studio. I passed Cook’s along the way but it was still dark inside, and I wondered if he was still at home.
“Arch, how can I tell you what you want to hear when you keep avoiding me?”
“… I don’t want you to tell me what I want to hear, Cook. I just need the truth.”
Opening the door, I walked inside.
“That’s not what I -”
“Cook I can’t, I don’t want to talk about this right now,” I cut him off harshly. “Look, we both have work to do. Now is just not the time.”
I hung up without giving him a chance to respond. Shutting the door behind me and locking it, I grabbed onto the handle, my entire body trembling from my efforts not to cry. When my breathing calmed, I turned around, only to jump and take a huge step backward, almost slamming into the wall behind me.
“W-who…” I gasped, staring at the girl standing by the recording booth.
“Sorry, I… I didn’t think you were going to get here this early.”
I just stood there flustered while the girl remained completely unfazed. Her almond-colored curls framed her face, and her dark brown eyes were bright and confident. My gaze traveled down to the can of Pledge and the roll of paper towels in her arms. She noticed this and gave a dry laugh.
“I’m a summer intern,” she explained. “But hey, who am I to say that you don’t learn something about the music industry when you’re cleaning a coffee table, right?”
She emphasized her words with a shrug that looked so carefree. I suddenly felt a pang of jealousy that I had to be so restrained and worry about everything while she, for some unknown reason, could seem so untroubled.
“You can leave your stuff on the table,” I offered, not exactly in the mood to strike up a conversation.
“Oh, but I should -”
“I need some time alone, alright?” My tone was sharper than I’d intended and it was wrong to project my anger onto someone who had nothing to do with any of this, but I just didn’t have the strength to control my emotions.
The girl shot me a dark look before setting the supplies down on the coffee table like I’d asked. She straightened the front of her t-shirt and walked past me to the door.
“I guess it’s not really my place to say this, but you might want to keep problems back home away from work.”
I turned around to look at her, my eyes wide in slight disbelief.
“I have enough respect for other people to not go around babbling about everything they’ve said, but there are employees here who would love to make a big deal out of your every little slip. So be careful.”
With that warning, she was out of the studio, leaving me a bit shocked. Had I grown too complacent that one stern piece of advice was enough to bother me? Was I letting my relationship with Cook take over my life?
But Cook was my life. All that I’d ever wanted.
I wondered what I’d gotten myself into. Suddenly I felt like I was living in a cage, having every word, every gesture, every change in expression up to judgment… Spectators all around me, peering in, pointing…
Was I even breathing?
+
For the first time since I’d started recording, I found it difficult to focus. The walls of the studio seemed to be closing in on me, making me feel claustrophobic. My inability to work was painfully obvious, and the recording engineers and the execs took notice. Luckily they didn’t think much of it since we’d never had problems before, and they decided to wrap things up early so that I could “ rest, feel refreshed, and be ready-to-go the next day.”
If only it were that simple.
I waited around until everyone had shuffled out of the room so I could finally have a little time to myself. Leaning back against the soft cushion of one of the swivel chairs, I closed my eyes, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. The throbbing ache at the side of my head was getting growingly acute, and I found myself gritting my teeth at the pain.
A knock on the door forced me to open my eyes, only to cover them again to block out the stabbing streams of fluorescent lighting. My head spun with nausea, and it took me a few moments to practically stumble across the studio. I did a double take when I saw who was on the other side.
“Jase!” As soon as I realized that it really was Jason standing there, I didn’t waste a second before jumping into his arms.
“Whoa, slow down, Archuleta,” he teased lightly.
“What are you doing in L.A.?”
“I thought that I would come check up on you. I wasn’t sure if you were all right after the last time we talked on the phone. Oh, and before you ask, you can take me out to your favorite clubs as a thank you gift.”
“Gosh… I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Well, I can see that. Is everything okay? … Davey?”
“No,” I replied. I realized then that I was crying. “It’s all… I don’t…”
“Hey… Just take a deep breath and tell me what’s going on,” Jason soothed. He tightened his embrace around my shoulders, which were shaking from the sobs.
“I’ve messed everything up,” I choked out. “What was I thinking? I mean I don’t belong here! Why didn’t anyone stop me? What am I doing, Jase?”
The words flew out of my mouth as a nearly incoherent string of sounds, and I had to pause and catch my breath at the end of it. I looked up at Jason for an answer but the only immediate response I found was in his gaze - pensive, pained… upset. There was a hint of regret that stood out to me, as if he was internally scolding himself for not protecting me sooner, for not preventing this.
“You’re right,” he said finally. He studied my confused expression and continued. “You don’t exactly fit the stereotype here. But that’s why you’re unique, Davey. That’s why you need to be strong, okay?”
Jason’s voice was so insistent and firm that I couldn’t disagree, even though I was scared out of my mind. Me? Strong? What made him believe that I could pull myself through?
“You don’t have to be afraid when there are so many people who truly love you,” he answered like he’d read my mind. “Like me, for instance,” he added at the end with a grin.
I smiled for the first time that day.
“You know what? I think you need some cheering up.”
“Always Captain Obvious,” I shot back.
“Yellow card, Archuleta,” he cautioned jokingly. “I’m in the mood for some ice cream and other comfort food items that clog my arteries as I consume them. Is pizza still your favorite?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” I asked, still stuck in a half-grimace at his comment about arteries.
“I’m checking to make sure that it isn’t like, caviar or something.” He saw me wrinkle my nose. “Good, because I love you like there’s no tomorrow but your hypothetical affection for sturgeon eyes may change my mind. Just saying.”
Feigning annoyance, I grabbed my jacket off the sofa and pulled Jason by the arm as I dashed out of the studio.
“Can we just go, already? You need to feed me first if I’m going to listen to you all evening.”
“Making the guest do all the work. Typical,” he muttered, the mischievous twinkle back in his eyes.
+
For some inexplicable reason, Los Angeles was different with Jason there. Everything about the city - the tall buildings, the glaring lights, the thick clouds in the sky - seemed less foreign. I felt as if I’d been transported back a few years to when Jason and I would walk home together, down a quiet street dotted with familiar houses. Those fifteen minutes were sometimes the best part of my day, our nonsensical banter and constant laughter mingling with the warm Utah air.
So much had changed since then, but being with Jason assured me that, for some things, I could pick up right where I had left off.
Jason held true to his word about comfort food. When we returned to his hotel room after a thorough Baskin Robbins raid, he’d picked up the phone almost immediately and ordered pizza. He gave me a small wink as he asked the employee for my favorite combination of toppings, and I just smiled back, thankful for the chance to take my mind off all the craziness going on in my life.
+
“So what time do you want me to drive you back?” Jason asked as he bit into the pizza.
“Um…” I stared a bit glumly at my own half-eaten slice. “Can I stay here for the night?”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I mean, you’re here and I just think…” I trailed off, still avoiding his eyes.
“Well, you’re welcome to, but shouldn’t you tell Cook?”
“No,” I blurted out too quickly. “It’s not like I’m a little kid, Jase.”
“You know this has nothing to do with that. Come on, it’s just a phone call.”
“Okay,” I relented. “I’ll be right back.”
Getting off the bed and taking my cell from the side table, I walked out into the hallway. Once the door closed, I stuck my phone back into my pocket and leaned against the wall and attempted to let out all of my frustration with a sigh.
I saw no point in calling Cook. We were clearly upset with each other, and I was determined to wait until we could talk without it turning into another fight. I was so weary of being upset with him, and tonight I just wanted to hang out with Jason like old times and forget about it all.
When I checked my phone to confirm that a few minutes had passed, I sauntered back in.
“He said it was fine,” I said quickly before I lost my nerve, setting the cell down on the desk.
Jason peered at me and I instantly felt guilty because his blue-grey eyes seemed to be able to see through my lie. I held my breath.
“So are you going to stand there or come and help me finish this thing?” he challenged, pointing at the pizza left in the flat cardboard box.
I grinned and went over to sit on the bed. Reaching for another slice, I secretly breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t noticed anything.
I was momentarily caught up in trying not to arouse more suspicion that I didn’t see the screen of my phone light up across the room, signaling an incoming call.