FIC: From This Day Forward (Part 2)
Title: From This Day Forward
Authors: frackin_sweet and jehane18
Fandom: AI S7
Pairing:David Cook/David Archuleta; Michael Johns/Carly Smithson
Genre: Slash, het
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 for adult language, mild sexual situations
Summary: In our alternate universe, Mike Johns and Carly Smithson are getting married in fancy L.A. style. David Cook is Johns' best man. David Archuleta is Carly's BFF, and is her point man on all the important details.
Authors' Notes: Written for the sadly-canceled recent BigBang challenge, happily completed just in time for a certain timely holiday that shall remain nameless. Beta by the lovely and talented leici.
Quoted song lyrics are the property of the original artists.
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed herein are real people, and belong solely to themselves. The story and situations are fictional, entirely fabricated by the authors, and no libel is intended. We make no profit from this story. We will remove this without prejudice if a cease and desist notice is issued.
5:45 pm
It was the most beautiful, meaningful ceremony David's ever been part of, but it doesn't mean David's not kind of relieved it's finally over.
He follows the crowd as they filter out of the church as the quartet launch into the recessional. The next part is picture-taking outside the church, which doesn't require his presence; the publicity director of Carly's and Mike's theatre group has turned up with a lighting guy, a cameraman and three photographers. There's quite a commotion outside as stage directions are issued to various Johnses, Smithsons and the wedding party, who all kind of trip over each other trying to find their places on the church steps.
David is hovering, wondering if he should help with things, when he hears a quiet snicker coming from inside the doorway. He's really not surprised when he turns and sees Dave Cook standing in the shadows, half-hidden by the gothic sweep of the vaulted stone entrance.
In the intervening ten minutes, Dave looks like he's managed to loosen his cuffs, muss up his hair, and, David doesn't believe it, his bow tie has come undone yet again - David really should have used a stapler on Dave's head. David's not even sure if Dave managed to make it through the groomsman photos in a traditionally presentable state.
"Oh my gosh, you weren't kidding about being an escape artist!"
David steps into the shadows alongside Dave, the better to see what further unfastenings Dave's managed to get up to; he peers closely at Dave, whose eyes glitter in the darkness.
"Would I kid about a thing like that? Us theater pros can get out of our clothes on cue in five seconds."
David feels himself blush hotly for the second time today. He'd like to think he's unsure why Dave has this effect on him, but he actually has a pretty good idea, and the image of Dave shucking his costume in the wings of some stage is not helping at all.
Maybe Carly's right - David hasn't had a date in so long he's finally starting to have sexual fantasies in broad daylight. Or it could be Dave himself, broad-shouldered and rumpled, unable to keep his clothes on - No.
David desperately casts around for some conversation, because the longer he's silently staring at Dave, leaning rather wantonly against the wall of a church, the more unchurchly thoughts he's going to have. "Um, don't you have to be in more of the photographs?"
"Me?" Dave snorts softly. "I think I was in the minimum quantity required for the best man. Besides -" he holds up a hand, cuff askew -"I'm having trouble staying photo-ready. I kinda seem to be coming undone again."
David stares at the cuff, and then Dave's other cuff, and - "Hey! I thought you'd put the bottle away!"
They both look down at the whiskey bottle clasped in Dave's free hand, resting against Dave's thigh. Dave shrugs. "Yeah, and what d'you know, I found it again."
"So it'd seem. Look." David takes another step forward, and wonders whether he should touch Dave. Unlike David, Dave looks like he quite likes people being close up in his personal space, and it might actually be comforting, so David figures he might venture it; he puts a hesitant hand on Dave's arm. "I don't know you, Dave, or what's going on with you today, and I don't wanna be, like, nosy or anything, but I'm not sure it's such a good idea to keep hitting the sauce like this."
Dave looks away for a second. David's treated to a rather nice close up of Dave's jawline. There's that strong, not unpleasant smell again, and it seems to be coming from Dave's skin - David shoves the thought firmly away: they're in a church, for crying out loud.
"I'm sorry," Dave says, a little unsteadily, and David's stomach does an unexpected lurch. "I know I've been behaving badly all afternoon. You must think I'm a complete lush, or worse."
"Oh my heck, of course not!" David flails a little. He's never been able to break that habit; when Carly had told him Mike had finally proposed, David had swept all the water glasses off the restaurant table in his excitement. "You, you're clearly going through something. I mean, not like I know anything about your situation, but maybe it'd be easier to deal if you stopped to think a bit, or talk to someone, rather than trying to drink yourself under the table, you know?"
Dave looks back at David, and for the first time David notices his eyes are very green, with little flecks of gold in the irises. They're really attractive, for all that they're somewhat red-rimmed, either from the crying, or the booze, or both.
"You're right," Dave says, finally. "I should stop. Here, you take this."
David tries not to gape at Dave as he hands over the bottle. David's never held a bottle of whiskey before, and he's never thought his first time would be in a church. He grips it in both hands, awkwardly, like it's a dangerous weapon.
David's had to let go of Dave in order to catch hold of the bottle, and Dave, thus unencumbered, has clearly decided it might be interesting to try resting his hands on David for a change: he puts a large hand on David's shoulder.
"You really think I should be talking to someone about my situation?" Dave asks, softly. Suddenly, the bottle seems to be the least dangerous thing in David's personal space.
"Yeah," David says, articulately. "Talking is good. I mean, better than drinking." Oh gosh, he should just shut up right now.
One corner of Dave's mouth has curled up. "How about I talk to you, David?"
"Um, okay?" It's totally unfair to expect him to make conversation under these circumstances, in the stifling shadows of the church, clutching a bottle of whiskey, so close to this disheveled, attractive stranger that he can smell his skin.
Dave leans a little closer, and then they both hear a whoop outside the church: "Woohoo, time to hit the limos! Hope they're well stocked!"
Looks like picture time is over, and suddenly they're both overwhelmed by a fragrant, silken crush of frothy wedding dress and bridesmaid skirts. David loses sight of Dave for a few minutes as they fetch up in front of a car that makes him proud to have been the one coordinating this particular detail; a glossy-white, 1955 hardtop Rolls limousine. With a grin at the driver, he takes hold of the door handle. "Your chariot, princess," he says to Carly, with a sweeping bow made slightly more awkward by the fact he's holding a whiskey bottle in one hand.
Carly, radiant in the late-day sunlight, gives him one last kiss on the cheek as he hands her into the car, and Mike, blissfully unconcerned with David's sense of personal space, also kisses him gallantly before following. David thinks he hears Dave Cook laughing somewhere on the periphery.
Then the Rolls glides away, horn blaring, towards the reception venue. David turns to see the rest of the wedding party piling into a more conventional white stretch limo.
"Come on, David, come with us!" Brooke trills, as she pulls him along by the hand, and then gives him an ungentle shove ahead of her through the backwards-facing door.
Okay, so Brooke is unusually strong for someone so small. David finds himself almost catapulted into the car; fortunately to a soft-ish landing on Dave Cook's lap.
"We gotta quit meeting like this," that whiskey-tinged voice says in his ear, and David is thwarted from claiming a spot on the actual seat by Brooke, Syesha, Jason, and their dates climbing in immediately behind him. There is, quite literally, no place for him to sit other than on top of someone.
David considers Brooke, as she's the next person over, but she ends up with Syesha almost in her lap as the limo makes an unexpected lurch forward, and David finds he's stuck with his current location, for now, anyhow.
"Um...sorry? I can maybe...move to the floor, or something," he says, not able to look Dave in the face because Dave's face is still stuck behind his ear.
"Trust me, you don't wanna sit on a limo floor. Lots of weird shit goes down in these," Dave replies, and David thinks he can feel him smile, and blushes again from that, and the implication of Dave's words. "Here, I'll try to make room."
And David feels thighs flex under him as Dave tries, not totally rudely, to shove Brooke over a bit, and simultaneously shove himself into the corner. Brooke complains, and says a few words David didn't think she knew, and the effort fails completely.
"No, it's...I'm fine. It's a short drive, right? Hope I'm not too heavy." David attempts to prop himself up a bit on his hands, but this only puts him in more contact with Dave Cook's person, rather than less.
"Nope. You're just right," Dave replies, and before David even has time to think about this, someone is passing around effervescent flutes of champagne. Do these people need alcohol for everything? David wonders, as suddenly he ends up holding one and trying not to spill as he balances on one of Dave's legs.
"To Carly and Mike!" someone yells, and everyone drinks except David. And Dave, oddly enough, who's still just holding his glass and looking vaguely amused at David.
"Cheers," Dave says, and clinks glasses with David, before raising his own to his mouth. His generous, sinfully-proportioned mouth. Right after licking his lips.
David takes a sip of champagne without thinking, and then twitches when the bubbles seem to go straight up his nose. They apparently kill a few brain cells through sheer proximity, and David takes another sip before it registers.
"Cook!" Someone yells from across the limo, a distance that suddenly seems very, very far. "I like your new companion much more than your old one!"
"Me too!" Someone else says, and there are general enthusiastic sounds of agreement from around the car. "Way cuter!" "Nice job!" "Fuck Simon, anyhow!" "Yeah, forget him!" "You've traded up!"
It occurs to David that the rest of the wedding party thinks he's Dave's date. He turns to look at Dave, and then back at the rest of the smiling faces.
"Oh, we're not...I mean, I'm just sitting here because...he's...I'm not..." David is ready to pretty much drink the rest of the champagne in the car when his mouth and brain refuse to work right.
"Guys, chill. We're just sharing space." Dave is shaking his head at them, and raising a dismissive hand. "I am happily dateless at this party. And I'm sure David has better prospects."
There's some pooh-poohing around the car, but the discussion, after a few more choice words regarding this Simon person, turns to other things. David finally relaxes. He turns a little, and sees the pensive expression from earlier on Dave's face. A couple of things fall into place.
"Bad breakup?" David guesses. When Dave doesn't answer, and just takes another drink, he immediately backpedals. "Oh, gosh, I don't mean to pry. You just said earlier, you know...about talking..."
Darn the close quarters in this car! Brooke leans over, in a voice that would normally be confidential, but of course everyone can hear her. "Horrible breakup, more like. And Simon is a total user, Dave. Nobody was kidding when they said you're better off."
David hates that he's instigated this conversation that is obviously starting to make Dave uncomfortable, but Dave finally answers, after downing the rest of his glass. "I agree, okay guys? It was bound to happen eventually, and I am better off." He holds out his glass. "Now. A refill, so we can toast Carly and Mike some more."
David sits back while the refills happen, and doesn't say anything else until they arrive at the hotel.
And, he's starting to think one of those sturdy thighs he's been perched upon is hollow, because as they spill out of the car, Dave claps Jason on the shoulder and declares, "Open bar time!" He's smiling like no one had said a single word about his recent breakup, the one David would still like to know more about but doesn't know how to ask. "C'mon, let's go!"
Dave grabs David by the arm, and makes a beeline up the grand steps of the Roosevelt. David has no option but to follow, trying not to flail, and blushing furiously as the wedding party stares as one at the whiskey bottle in his hand.
7pm
Sitting at a little round table near the bar and doodling on a cocktail napkin, Dave realizes he had two options back in the limo. And he knows he took the right one; getting David Archuleta calmly off his lap without incident, and starting to medicate himself into a state of whiskey dick. Because goddamn, the way David's ass looks in those pants is nothing compared to the way it feels, and Dave had been far too close to making that opinion known.
The other option, yanking David back into the dark confines of the limo and handing the driver a couple of bills to just keep on driving, wasn't really an option at all. More like a fantasy.
So, he's congratulating himself on embracing reality and good behavior by having another drink; a double, if truth be known, and waiting for the master of ceremonies to start announcing the wedding party. They're all supposed to make some grand entrance, groomsmen and bridesmaids together, although he knows Kristy Lee would be more than willing to swan into the room all by her own damn self. She's never had much patience for him, and she and her cleavage really should always work alone.
In other news, his best-man's speech is going well. Or at least, it's going. He's only on the fourth napkin, but he's going to make his point here soon.
...and then there was the time I walked in on Carly and Mike going at it in the crossover. He had her hitting all the notes that Simon had been bitching about her not hitting in rehearsal. Of course, that was Simon for you. Always had lots of commentary on what you were doing wrong, but not a thing to say if you were really giving it everything you had, and putting your whole heart into...
Oh, God. He's doing it again, getting all maudlin and stupid. Hopefully the emcee will just have the sense to cut his mic or something. Or maybe by then he'll be so fucking wasted he can't even make the speech. They'll have to find someone else.
Someone who still believes in happily-ever-after. Dave's been staring off into space for a minute now, and when he returns to the present, he realizes someone has joined him at his table-for-one.
"Dave," David Archuleta says gently. "They're about to announce the wedding party, and Kristy's...well. She'll probably be happier once you're in your proper place."
Dave just looks at David, and after a moment, David asks. "Are you okay?"
"I'm trying to write this toast for Carly and Mike, and it's like the hardest thing I've ever done. Everything I say just...it's terrible. I don't know if I can do it. They deserve something beautiful, not something that's going to automatically raise the divorce rate."
"Oh, I'm positive it's not that bad, let me...oh." Dave takes another swallow of his drink as he watches David Archuleta's perfect eyebrows climb towards his hair. "You...maybe you shouldn't say the part about the person you love the most turning into the person you want to kill..."
"With an axe," Dave finishes, swirling the ice in his glass. "Too graphic, you think?"
"Among other things," David answers. Gently, he takes the glass out of Dave's hand. "Do me a favor. I know you love Mike and Carly, and you want to do this right. But now you need to go line up with the others. I know, it's a pain, but just walk in, smile and wave, and then come back here. I'll help you with the rest of it, if you want."
"You mean you'll help get rid of my unfortunate crime-of-passion motif?"
"Yes, that."
"Okay." Dave stands up, and unfortunately, now he's starting to wobble a bit. "Okay." David stands up with him, almost looking like he might make an attempt to grab if Dave starts to fall over, but Dave self-corrects and takes a quick inventory. Button the jacket, then surreptitiously check the fly. Make a quick dig at the hair that probably makes it stand up even worse than before.
David, meanwhile, reaches up to take hold of Dave's eternally-limp bow tie. "Again, we have to stop meeting like this," he murmurs, almost too softly for Dave to hear over the band gearing up.
"I actually kinda hope not," Dave replies, just as quietly, and he knows the words hit their mark as David's face colors.
Dave smiles a little and takes hold of David's hand, even just to move it away from his tie. "Leave it undone. It's a good look for me."
David smiles back, a quirk of pink lips, and Dave's mouth goes dry as David meets his gaze from under those thick lashes. "I don't disagree," David says. And he lets Dave move his hand, and then steps back. "Better go before the bridesmaids have a fit."
"I'm going," Dave replies, and he walks backwards so he can watch David stand there and fidget just a little bit longer.
And then he's maneuvered into position by Brooke, so that he can swagger under the flower-festooned arches like a pimp, with Kristy on his arm looking hot and only minorly pissed off, which is probably a stretch for her. The DJ puts on some song, too loud for him to even recognize at the moment, and that's their cue to walk in as the guy calls their names like he's announcing a fight at Caesar's Palace.
He sees David watching him a few times, and can't stop smiling.
*
For all that he's been an integral part of this wedding, David doesn't have to walk in with the wedding party, so he gets himself a soda from the bar, and hangs to one side keep an eye on the proceedings. Mainly, he's wondering if Dave Cook will somehow go awry, but really, the guy seems to be in almost complete possession of his faculties, in spite of having finished off most of a bottle of whiskey, a couple of glasses of champagne, and who knows how many cocktails at the bar. Dave somehow even manages to charm Kristy Lee into abandoning her stinkface in favor of a sparkling smile, and that's saying a lot for his abilities. The guy may not be able to keep his clothing in line, but he's got a way with people, that's for sure.
He also knows how to make a good entrance, and as the crashing strains of U2's "Elevation" vibrate through the speakers, Dave spins Kristy, and dips her in such a manner that she almost pops out of her dress, but he saves her from embarrassment at the last moment and rights her to applause, whistles, and camera-flashes.
Then, right before the grand crescendo, the emcee announces "Please join me in welcoming the couple of the moment, Mr. and Mrs. Michael Johns, everyone!", and there is a thunderous standing ovation as they parade into the room and the music skirls all around them.
I and eye in the sky
You make me feel like I can fly
So high
Elevation
Love
Lift me up from out of these blues
Won't you tell me something true
I believe in you...
And David sees Dave looking at him, as Carly and Mike circle the room to acknowledge their admirers. He feels that hot prickle under his collar again, and suddenly his own tie is far too tight. He tugs to loosen it, and backs away, into the periphery and out of range of Dave's blatant gaze. He ends up near the gift table, where someone has arranged easels containing artist's boards crowded with photos from Carly's past, and Mike's, from childhood through awkward adolescence and early adulthood. Then there is a collage of them together, with people like Brooke and Jason and Syesha and the other people from their LA theater group, and...yeah, that's Dave, there, with longer hair, far more innocent and wide-eyed than David could have imagined him.
David scans the photos more closely at this, and finds Dave in several of them, wide-mouthed and laughing, or making faces. And then, there's one...there's a shot of Mike and Carly rehearsing onstage in the glow of a spotlight, but behind them, David can see Dave standing in the wings. There's a taller, older man next to him, his hand possessively on the back of Dave's neck, whispering in his ear, something important, something that has Dave pressing his knuckles to his lips and looking away...
It's an almost unbearably intimate moment. Even the flat image is so eloquent that David looks away, feeling like he's invaded Dave's privacy. He should probably ask Brooke, to be sure, but he's positive the man talking in Dave's ear in the photo is the infamous Simon. Now, suddenly, David understands all the drinking (inasmuch as he ever understands drinking, anyhow) and the trying not to talk about it. He knows that Dave is doing whatever it takes to make it hurt less.
And having to write a speech about marriage and true love and forever is probably not helping him. David recalls his promise to help with this process, and decides that if nothing else, this is the least he can do. Because even though he doesn't really have vast experiences in true love, at least he hasn't just had it jerked out from under him like a cheap rug.
So he goes looking for Dave; they're going to get this done, so that Carly and Mike can have a lovely toast, and then Dave can quit thinking about it. In the back of David's mind, also, is the fact that there will be dancing later, and hey, maybe if Dave's in a good mood, and feels like it...what? David shakes his head. Is he really thinking about sort of hitting on the guy? Not that he ever really hits on anyone, per se...that requires some level of smooth that David is pretty sure he doesn't possess, and would feel stupid trying to pull off, even long enough to get Dave to dance with him. Or hang out with him, maybe at one of those secluded little corner tables...no! Time to focus, there's a job to be done here.
And then David wonders if he's actually got some kind of unconscious radar for Dave, because he practically runs into him talking to a couple of the other groomsmen.
"Oh, hey, I thought I was the drunk one," Dave grins, and he's already got another glass in his hand, darn it! David practically bounces off Dave's sturdy shoulder, and Dave puts a big hand on David's arm, steadying him.
"I think, um, I mean...people are going to be sitting down to dinner, soon, and that means...your toast? We should, I mean...you should probably finish it?"
"My toast...oh! Yeah, man, don't worry. I've got it dialed. Check this out." Dave pulls up his sleeve, and for a moment all David can see is muscular forearm, until he notices wobbly writing extending almost from wrist to elbow. If that's a tattoo...it's a pretty bad one.
It's not a tattoo. "You wrote on your arm?" David asks incredulously.
"Yeah! I mean, I kinda lost the napkin I was using earlier, so I improvised. Whattya think?"
David reads:
On this lovely night
Carly and Mike are married
May they not divorce.
"A haiku?" he says evenly.
"Keep going, there's more." Dave turns his arm over.
They've got good chances
Of going the distance, yeah
If they don't fuck up.
And after that, there is a limerick that David has a hard time reading, and has to sort of sound it out, and then he has to stop reading, because it's crude and inappropriate, and he almost says the f-word before he stops himself. He can feel Dave next to him, warm and exhaling alcohol fumes that are almost enough to make David tipsy by proximity.
"Dave," he says, gently pulling the sleeve of Dave's tux down over the dubious wedding toast. "This isn't going to work, okay?"
Almost immediately, Dave slumps a little. "Right? I'm so fucked. I just can't make it come together. Some best man I turned out to be."
David doesn't think, he just takes Dave by the hand and pulls him over to one of the tables he was noticing earlier. If nothing else, they need a few moments of peace and quiet. When Dave sets his drink down and looks away for a second, David picks it up and neatly dumps the contents behind him into a potted palm, before replacing the glass on the table. Dave looks more than a little confused when his eyes light on his empty glass, but David distracts him.
"Look, I said I'd help you with this, and I will. Just don't think about Si...the stuff that's bothering you, okay? Think about Carly and Mike."
Dave's eyes tighten a little bit at David's slip, but he nods slowly. "Carly and Mike, right. They're awesome, I love them, and they love each other."
"You're a good best man. Say it with me."
"I'm a good best man. The best. Best man for th' job." Dave is starting to sound a little slurry, and that's worrisome. But snaps out of it before David can ask if he's all right, and leans over. He puts a hand over David's, and David feels Dave's knee bump his legs under the table. "Be honest," he commands, only inches away, and looking right into David's eyes. "You don't think I'm so bad to be around, do you?"
Dave figures he must be really drunk, because the filter between his brain and his mouth has vanished and he's blurting out anything that comes to mind. Actually, the filter between his brain and his writing hand has gone as well. Has he really written a haiku and dirty limerick on his arm? That last one must be thanks to the cocktails. And where his last Dirty Duck martini has gotten to, he hasn't a clue.
David is looking at him with eyes that are wider than usual; he's so close that Dave can see swimming gold flecks in his dark irises... and Dave realizes what he's just said. Score one more for that lack of filter. Still, David doesn't seem to be pulling away, although he's blushed again, all the way to his spiky hairline. If he keeps blushing this attractively, Dave isn't sure he'll be able to turn off the innuendo, or the blatant come-ons, because, yeah, that's what that pretty much was.
"No," is what David says, finally. "No, I've enjoyed hanging out with you. It's been interesting, so far, anyway," David amends, cautiously, and Dave presses on before he can stop himself.
"You know, I've no idea why you're here without a date."
David glances away at this, a little less comfortable with this topic of conversation, but he still doesn't move away. His knees are warm against Dave's. "Ah, I wanted to focus on helping Carly out today. Besides... I've been really busy with the orchestra, and I'm kind of new in town, I don't really have anyone I could have asked."
"Maybe you haven't met the right guy," Dave says softly, and he's stopped worrying about filters. He doesn't realize he'd put his hand on David's until he feels warm fingers twitch under his palm, and he has to look down to convince himself David's hand is there.
"Maybe," David says, and looks back at Dave. "I guess I haven't really been looking, though."
"Sometimes love sneaks up on you when you're not looking," says Dave, and kind of wants to smack himself at the cheesiness of the line. You're cute when you're this obvious, Simon would have said. Dave needs to stop thinking about Simon: not everything needs to be tainted by his cynical commentary.
The line seems to work on David, though, who smiles with enthusiasm. "I believe that," David says. "Like the love where you know everything's right from the word go? Like you just know you're meant to be with that person?" His eyes find Dave's again, which is how Dave discovers that the filter between his mind and his body now isn't working, because his dress pants feel suspiciously tight again all of a sudden.
Dave fights down the urge to pull David's hand into his lap. Quick, cover with something: "Yeah, well, not all of us are that lucky. Sometimes you think you know what love's about, and when you realize you don't, you're starring in your private version of Chicago the Musical." Hm, maybe he should have covered with something else. Dave's kind of appalled the conversation's taken this domestic violence-esque turn again: clearly his internal Cowell-cynicism has even managed to color his appreciation of David's idealistic smile.
Which dims, now, briefly, making Dave feels like a failure in the come-on department, and also like a bit of a heel. He's readying an apology, when David comes back with: "Sometimes you don't know what love's about. Then you meet some guy who's kinda sad, like love's let him down, and you want to see what he looks like when he's happy, then, you think you might know."
Dave stares for a second, because he can't believe how perfect a response that is, and how David looks when he says it, simple and luminous like a stained-glass window in a sanctuary. There's a sudden hotness in Dave's face, a burning in his eyes, which he can't entirely attribute to the alcohol. And he realizes he's smiling, like David said he'd wanted to see, so hard his face hurts like a fool's, like he hasn't smiled in so long.
"How about that," he murmurs, also like a fool, and leans toward David, who takes him literally, and again it's perfect.
"This? You look...you look happy," David whispers. "It's a good look on you."
And there isn't anything to say in reply except, "It's because of you," and Dave's moving in closer, and David isn't sliding away, and who knows what might have happened if Jason Castro hadn't chosen that moment to approach their table with his conspicuous dreads and incredibly lousy romantic timing.
"Dave, stop drowning your sorrows, dammit! It's dinnertime, and you're up!"
"Dude," groans Dave, and then, "Oh God, the speech. I am so screwed."
Jason finds this hilarious, and Dave experiences a moment of panic, before he finds his center in David's serious eyes.
"You'll improv. You're a good best man, remember? Best man for the job. You'll knock 'em dead." David's fingers squeeze his, making his face feel hot again.
"As long as you think so," says Dave, and lets David help him rise.
8 pm
David's very aware of Dave's warm body against his, as they walk together out of the bar after Jason and steer down the hallway to the ballroom. Maybe Dave is leaning a little more than strictly necessary, David can't be sure, but Dave hasn't stopped grinning since he left the table; he'd just thrown one heavy arm around David's neck and kind of hooked him close, and is now walking all pressed up along David's side.
Still, even if Dave is using drunkenness as a pretext to get a little handsy with David, David can't actually bring himself to care. David isn't sure where his remark about love had come from; he'd just wanted to make Dave smile for a change, and Dave had indeed smiled, slowly and a little hesitantly at first, and then like a sunrise, and his eyes had gotten kind of red.
And for an instant maybe David knew what love might feel like.
It was mostly physical, like the way David's skin felt hot and tight where Dave's hands were on him, like his body where Dave's warm bulk is resting against him now. But there's a non-physical part as well, a light, kind of giddy feeling like the one he gets when he's playing at his best, at one with the music. David isn't sure if he's ever been in love, to tell the truth, so he isn't sure if that's happening, and surely it takes longer than an afternoon to fall in love with someone? But maybe that's all it takes. Maybe.
Dave comes to an abrupt halt at the doorway to the ballroom, and against the tether of Dave's arm, David's pulled to a stop as well. The elegance of the Roosevelt dining room takes David's breath away: the splendid rococo chandelier reflecting light off the mirrored panels, the shining silver cutlery, the white and scarlet roses massed on the tables, the laughing people dressed in their formal best.
A soft, "Shit, look how many people are here," beside his ear alerts David to the fact that Dave may have other concerns than the finery of the room.
David glances at him; Dave is looking pretty nervous, rubbing a hand over his jaw. David's momentarily distracted by Dave's adam's apple, then focuses and pats Dave's arm in what he hopes is a supportive way.
"C'mon, it's gonna be fine. Do I need to make you say it with me?"
At this, Dave looks sideways at him, breaking out into that grin again. "I got it. Best man for this and any job," he says, ducking his head so he can whisper in David's ear, and they walk through the doorway into the festooned ballroom.
David remembers working with Carly on the table seating, so he's able to steer Dave in the direction of the best man's seat at the head table, a couple of chairs down from the bridal couple, between Shannon and Kristy Lee. Dave flings his rumpled self heavily into his seat, runs a hand through his hair and grins around the table as if he's memorized his speech.
"That's good. You've totally got this," David murmurs, patting Dave on the back, and leaves to go find his own seat.
Which isn't where he remembers it. It confuses him, because he recalls putting himself at the very end of the top table, after the siblings and bridesmaids and groomsmen and their dates...until he realizes someone (Brooke? Syesha?) has switched placecards and put him directly opposite Dave instead.
It's too late to sort this out now; everyone else is seated and dinner is already running late as it is. David slides into the last unoccupied chair, between Shannon's date and Kristy Lee's, and looks across the roses and silverware into Dave Cook's eyes.
I know, we have to stop meeting like this, he mouths over to Dave, who gives him a theatrical wink.
The speeches commence with some fanfare, Carly's dad getting up to give the father of the bride speech. David is having some difficulty focusing because someone's nudging his foot under the table, and he doesn't believe Dave would try something like this - what if Dave flirtatiously kicks Kristy Lee's serious-looking girlfriend by mistake, or the sister's already-uncomfortable-looking date? That would be supremely embarrassing.
As the speech progresses, Dave similarly progresses to taking his shoe off: warm toes are wiggling on top of David's foot. David looks away, resolutely, and pretends to concentrate on Carly's dad's anecdotes about Carly's childhood in Ireland. Carly's dad has a lovely Irish brogue, and speaks in lavish flourishes - everyone's laughing at the stories of little Carly's stage diva ways, her girlhood in Utah, and coming out to the West Coast, "where her life's path there entwined with Mike's".
Carly's dad ends by asking them to raise their glasses, "To Carly and Mike - may your shared road always come up to meet you, and the wind always be at your backs." When David gets to his feet he dislodges Dave's foot, and Dave smirks at him. David sips from his wineglass; Dave looks at first like he's going to drain his, but then catches David's warning glance and takes a moderate swallow instead.
The next couple of speeches are from Mike's family, and David's so engrossed in tales from Australia that he's momentarily confused when Dave eventually levers himself to his feet amid a dinging of crystalware.
David gives Dave a hopefully reassuring smile, and holds his breath.
Dave looks like he's taking a deep breath himself; he fiddles with one cuff, and David experiences a stab of panic that Dave's going to roll it up and start reading from the dirty limerick. Then he shakes his hair back, and his eyes shine in the candlelight, and he says quietly, "For those of you who don't know me, I'm Dave Cook, the best man. You know, when Mike asked me to stand up for him and speak at his wedding, at first, I was confused. I mean, why me? What do I know about love, right? I still feel confused, by the way," he adds, and there's a ripple of laughter.
"But then I figured: I might not know much about love, but what I do know is what I've learned watching Mike and Carly fall in love," and Dave leans over so he can raise his glass at the bridal couple. Carly presses her hand to her chest, and, what do you know, this might actually go pretty well.
"I first met Mike when I auditioned for the L.A. City Players. We hit it off right away. You know you've found a friend for life when you meet a guy willing to sing Angel's part to your Collins, and ready to sneak you a hit of Jameson to steady your nerves a bit so you can sing properly. And then I met Carly too, and I kind of fell in love with her a little - it's not often I meet a girl who can drink me under the table, but she totally could!"
David thinks this drinking reference might be a little risque, but Carly's dad is laughing appreciatively, and so is Mike's - David guesses it takes the robust Irish and Australians to approve of this kind of thing.
Dave continues softly,"Not that I'd have a chance with Carly, of course, because it was obvious from the moment I met them that there was only one guy for her. They were still just friends and co-workers at the time, but they spent every spare moment they had with each other, and really anyone with eyes could see they were falling in love with each other. That was the year we did Chicago the Musical, and when Mike did his big showstopper on opening night..." Here, Dave pauses, kind of strikes a pose, and breaks into song:
"Give 'em the old razzle dazzle
Razzle Dazzle 'em
Give 'em an act with lots of flash in it
And the reaction will be passionate..."
David realizes he's staring, because though he knows Dave is a trained theatrical singer he didn't expect Dave's singing voice to be this resonant, this evocative. Dave's voice wobbles a little at the end, though, and David turns when he hears laughter and sniffles behind him: Carly is giggling and wiping away tears, Brooke is sobbing into someone's handkerchief, and Mike gets to his feet to lead the applause.
Dave smiles and sketches a bow at them. "Mike does that much better than me! So much better, he won the heart of his fair lady that night." Dave makes a self-deprecating gesture, and the clapping dies away. "After that, Mike and Carly couldn't deny the way they felt about each other; they finally saw what all of us around them could see: that they'd fallen in love with each other, that they were meant to be together."
Dave pauses and swallows; David recognizes the small wince in Dave's expression, and realizes that night for Mike and Carly might have been meaningful for Dave and Simon, too. Dave continues with some difficulty, "I may or may not look it, but I'm a pretty cynical guy. I'm not usually one for falling in love, the whole razzle dazzle thing," and David feels all hot and tingly, like he wants to punch Simon in the nose for putting the discomfort he sees in Dave's eyes.
But Dave rallies, smiles crookedly and says, "Still, y'know, even a cynic like me could see that Mike and Carly were meant to be together forever, that they'd grow old together. Their love...their love makes even someone like me believe that you can come through everything life throws at you, and still end up with the person you're were meant to be with." Then he has to stop, and rub his eyes awkwardly. The sobbing around them is a lot louder now, and David himself feels the prickle behind his lashes.
When he's done surreptitiously wiping with tissue, he sees Dave Cook looking straight at him, and it makes him suddenly, ridiculously proud. Dave clearly sees something in David's own eyes, too, because he pulls himself upright and launches back into what sounds like the closing part of his speech.
"When I agreed to be Mike's best man and give this speech, I actually read a book on speech-giving. The Toastmaster's Guide to the Galaxy, something like that." Dave pauses for the laughter; David rolls his eyes - if that's even true, he bets the book didn't advocate maudlin haiku or dirty limericks. "Apparently it's customary to end your wedding dinner speech with a quote from a nice poem, or something from Shakespeare. Did you guys know that? No?"
Dave grins and continues, "Well. I might have thought about writing a poem, as it happens -" and David, panicking, wonders if he'd better tackle Dave to the floor, to stop him from reading the appalling draft verses out loud, in front of Carly's mother and everybody - "but I decided not to inflict my muse on you before the main course. You guys are totally missing out, though," he adds, and winks at David again, who doesn't know whether to sag with relief or throw a bread roll at him.
"Instead, I'll leave you with a quote from our latest show, which is a production of RENT. You know the theme song, "Seasons of Love", right? Mike and Carly and I, and many of the wedding party, must have have sung this song a hundred times, but it always feels brand new. The song asks, 'How do you measure the life of a woman or a man?' And it answers, 'You measure in love'. Mike and Carly, by that and any measure, your lives are full to the brim, miles and tons and wide acres, minutes and years."
Dave looks around, lifts his glass, and said, "And I'd like to ask you all to rise and join me in toasting the bride and groom. Mike and Carly: may their lives always measure in love."
The applause rises, Carly's still crying when she throws kisses down the table, someone says, "Best best man speech ever!" And as Dave, flushed with his own success, takes his seat with a flourish, he looks across at David again.
David just sits there, kind of stunned and amazed at the perfect, touching sentiment that Dave has managed to pull out of his proverbial hat, or wherever he's been hiding it. In fact, Dave himself looks pretty surprised, now that the applause is starting to fall off around them, and people are doing that glasses-clinking thing to get the bride and groom to kiss. Which they do, quite passionately, to cheers and more clapping.
But, David realizes, Dave is still looking at him, kind of like he wants to say something, but his smooth, silver tongue has deserted him. Knowing that Dave won't be able to hear him, David mouths That was perfect.
And Dave sort of makes a little mouth, and then replies, equally soundlessly I had good help. It's a simple statement, but it makes David warm all over, a spreading feeling that starts in his stomach, or maybe lower or higher, he can't really tell, and spreads outward until it makes his fingers tingle and his ears ring.
...the person you were meant to be with. He can hear those words echoing amidst the noise in his ears.
The ears-ringing thing is what makes him not notice that Syesha has been trying to get his attention. She finally gets up from her seat and crouches down next to him. "David! We have a problem!"
Slowly, her face comes into focus in front of him. She's holding a crumpled piece of paper in her hands, and for a moment David is worried that she's gotten ahold of one of Dave's earlier speeches. He feels an insistent foot against his leg, because apparently Dave thinks the same thing.
"What's the problem?" David asks, gathering the calm he needed earlier when all the pre-wedding details seemed to keep coming unraveled along with Dave Cook's tie and sobriety.
"Brooke just can't get it together enough to do her Maid of Honor toast," Syesha explains. "So, I said I'd do it and all, but I can't read her writing...she cried on the paper, and the ink ran, and...I have no idea, David! I'm not so great on the fly like this, 'specially following an act like that," she nods across the table at Dave, who seems to have snapped out of his earlier starry-eyed mien and raises his glass at her jauntily. "And Kristy said she's tired of standing in his stupid spotlight, god, she's been kind of a bitch tonight, but anyhow...David, please?"
David looks away from Syesha, away from what she's asking of him, and at Dave. Whose eyes change again, and soften, and he almost looks...he looks encouraging, and a little conspiratorial. Kind of like, go on, you can do this.
And David already knows he's not so great on the fly either, and yes, he's going to be following a class act here, but he's going to do this anyhow. He nods at Syesha and she presses the worthless scrap of paper into his hands. He sees Dave grin at him as he drops it, and they both hold out their champagne glasses for refills as David slowly stands up.
The girls thankfully pass the microphone over, and David stands up and clears his throat. Unfortunately, the mic is already on, and it comes across louder than a thunderclap, and the entire room jumps in their seats. David feels himself blush, what on earth has possessed him to do this?
And he looks down at Dave again, who is looking at him like he's absolutely sure David is going to deliver. Like he can't wait to hear what David's going to say. Like it's just the two of them in the room, and David...
David had better make this good, because, somehow it matters. More than just to Carly and Mike and these wedding guests.
Now that the entire gathering is quiet, David takes a deep breath.
...to be continued
Go to FTDF Part 3
Authors: frackin_sweet and jehane18
Fandom: AI S7
Pairing:David Cook/David Archuleta; Michael Johns/Carly Smithson
Genre: Slash, het
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 for adult language, mild sexual situations
Summary: In our alternate universe, Mike Johns and Carly Smithson are getting married in fancy L.A. style. David Cook is Johns' best man. David Archuleta is Carly's BFF, and is her point man on all the important details.
Authors' Notes: Written for the sadly-canceled recent BigBang challenge, happily completed just in time for a certain timely holiday that shall remain nameless. Beta by the lovely and talented leici.
Quoted song lyrics are the property of the original artists.
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed herein are real people, and belong solely to themselves. The story and situations are fictional, entirely fabricated by the authors, and no libel is intended. We make no profit from this story. We will remove this without prejudice if a cease and desist notice is issued.
5:45 pm
It was the most beautiful, meaningful ceremony David's ever been part of, but it doesn't mean David's not kind of relieved it's finally over.
He follows the crowd as they filter out of the church as the quartet launch into the recessional. The next part is picture-taking outside the church, which doesn't require his presence; the publicity director of Carly's and Mike's theatre group has turned up with a lighting guy, a cameraman and three photographers. There's quite a commotion outside as stage directions are issued to various Johnses, Smithsons and the wedding party, who all kind of trip over each other trying to find their places on the church steps.
David is hovering, wondering if he should help with things, when he hears a quiet snicker coming from inside the doorway. He's really not surprised when he turns and sees Dave Cook standing in the shadows, half-hidden by the gothic sweep of the vaulted stone entrance.
In the intervening ten minutes, Dave looks like he's managed to loosen his cuffs, muss up his hair, and, David doesn't believe it, his bow tie has come undone yet again - David really should have used a stapler on Dave's head. David's not even sure if Dave managed to make it through the groomsman photos in a traditionally presentable state.
"Oh my gosh, you weren't kidding about being an escape artist!"
David steps into the shadows alongside Dave, the better to see what further unfastenings Dave's managed to get up to; he peers closely at Dave, whose eyes glitter in the darkness.
"Would I kid about a thing like that? Us theater pros can get out of our clothes on cue in five seconds."
David feels himself blush hotly for the second time today. He'd like to think he's unsure why Dave has this effect on him, but he actually has a pretty good idea, and the image of Dave shucking his costume in the wings of some stage is not helping at all.
Maybe Carly's right - David hasn't had a date in so long he's finally starting to have sexual fantasies in broad daylight. Or it could be Dave himself, broad-shouldered and rumpled, unable to keep his clothes on - No.
David desperately casts around for some conversation, because the longer he's silently staring at Dave, leaning rather wantonly against the wall of a church, the more unchurchly thoughts he's going to have. "Um, don't you have to be in more of the photographs?"
"Me?" Dave snorts softly. "I think I was in the minimum quantity required for the best man. Besides -" he holds up a hand, cuff askew -"I'm having trouble staying photo-ready. I kinda seem to be coming undone again."
David stares at the cuff, and then Dave's other cuff, and - "Hey! I thought you'd put the bottle away!"
They both look down at the whiskey bottle clasped in Dave's free hand, resting against Dave's thigh. Dave shrugs. "Yeah, and what d'you know, I found it again."
"So it'd seem. Look." David takes another step forward, and wonders whether he should touch Dave. Unlike David, Dave looks like he quite likes people being close up in his personal space, and it might actually be comforting, so David figures he might venture it; he puts a hesitant hand on Dave's arm. "I don't know you, Dave, or what's going on with you today, and I don't wanna be, like, nosy or anything, but I'm not sure it's such a good idea to keep hitting the sauce like this."
Dave looks away for a second. David's treated to a rather nice close up of Dave's jawline. There's that strong, not unpleasant smell again, and it seems to be coming from Dave's skin - David shoves the thought firmly away: they're in a church, for crying out loud.
"I'm sorry," Dave says, a little unsteadily, and David's stomach does an unexpected lurch. "I know I've been behaving badly all afternoon. You must think I'm a complete lush, or worse."
"Oh my heck, of course not!" David flails a little. He's never been able to break that habit; when Carly had told him Mike had finally proposed, David had swept all the water glasses off the restaurant table in his excitement. "You, you're clearly going through something. I mean, not like I know anything about your situation, but maybe it'd be easier to deal if you stopped to think a bit, or talk to someone, rather than trying to drink yourself under the table, you know?"
Dave looks back at David, and for the first time David notices his eyes are very green, with little flecks of gold in the irises. They're really attractive, for all that they're somewhat red-rimmed, either from the crying, or the booze, or both.
"You're right," Dave says, finally. "I should stop. Here, you take this."
David tries not to gape at Dave as he hands over the bottle. David's never held a bottle of whiskey before, and he's never thought his first time would be in a church. He grips it in both hands, awkwardly, like it's a dangerous weapon.
David's had to let go of Dave in order to catch hold of the bottle, and Dave, thus unencumbered, has clearly decided it might be interesting to try resting his hands on David for a change: he puts a large hand on David's shoulder.
"You really think I should be talking to someone about my situation?" Dave asks, softly. Suddenly, the bottle seems to be the least dangerous thing in David's personal space.
"Yeah," David says, articulately. "Talking is good. I mean, better than drinking." Oh gosh, he should just shut up right now.
One corner of Dave's mouth has curled up. "How about I talk to you, David?"
"Um, okay?" It's totally unfair to expect him to make conversation under these circumstances, in the stifling shadows of the church, clutching a bottle of whiskey, so close to this disheveled, attractive stranger that he can smell his skin.
Dave leans a little closer, and then they both hear a whoop outside the church: "Woohoo, time to hit the limos! Hope they're well stocked!"
Looks like picture time is over, and suddenly they're both overwhelmed by a fragrant, silken crush of frothy wedding dress and bridesmaid skirts. David loses sight of Dave for a few minutes as they fetch up in front of a car that makes him proud to have been the one coordinating this particular detail; a glossy-white, 1955 hardtop Rolls limousine. With a grin at the driver, he takes hold of the door handle. "Your chariot, princess," he says to Carly, with a sweeping bow made slightly more awkward by the fact he's holding a whiskey bottle in one hand.
Carly, radiant in the late-day sunlight, gives him one last kiss on the cheek as he hands her into the car, and Mike, blissfully unconcerned with David's sense of personal space, also kisses him gallantly before following. David thinks he hears Dave Cook laughing somewhere on the periphery.
Then the Rolls glides away, horn blaring, towards the reception venue. David turns to see the rest of the wedding party piling into a more conventional white stretch limo.
"Come on, David, come with us!" Brooke trills, as she pulls him along by the hand, and then gives him an ungentle shove ahead of her through the backwards-facing door.
Okay, so Brooke is unusually strong for someone so small. David finds himself almost catapulted into the car; fortunately to a soft-ish landing on Dave Cook's lap.
"We gotta quit meeting like this," that whiskey-tinged voice says in his ear, and David is thwarted from claiming a spot on the actual seat by Brooke, Syesha, Jason, and their dates climbing in immediately behind him. There is, quite literally, no place for him to sit other than on top of someone.
David considers Brooke, as she's the next person over, but she ends up with Syesha almost in her lap as the limo makes an unexpected lurch forward, and David finds he's stuck with his current location, for now, anyhow.
"Um...sorry? I can maybe...move to the floor, or something," he says, not able to look Dave in the face because Dave's face is still stuck behind his ear.
"Trust me, you don't wanna sit on a limo floor. Lots of weird shit goes down in these," Dave replies, and David thinks he can feel him smile, and blushes again from that, and the implication of Dave's words. "Here, I'll try to make room."
And David feels thighs flex under him as Dave tries, not totally rudely, to shove Brooke over a bit, and simultaneously shove himself into the corner. Brooke complains, and says a few words David didn't think she knew, and the effort fails completely.
"No, it's...I'm fine. It's a short drive, right? Hope I'm not too heavy." David attempts to prop himself up a bit on his hands, but this only puts him in more contact with Dave Cook's person, rather than less.
"Nope. You're just right," Dave replies, and before David even has time to think about this, someone is passing around effervescent flutes of champagne. Do these people need alcohol for everything? David wonders, as suddenly he ends up holding one and trying not to spill as he balances on one of Dave's legs.
"To Carly and Mike!" someone yells, and everyone drinks except David. And Dave, oddly enough, who's still just holding his glass and looking vaguely amused at David.
"Cheers," Dave says, and clinks glasses with David, before raising his own to his mouth. His generous, sinfully-proportioned mouth. Right after licking his lips.
David takes a sip of champagne without thinking, and then twitches when the bubbles seem to go straight up his nose. They apparently kill a few brain cells through sheer proximity, and David takes another sip before it registers.
"Cook!" Someone yells from across the limo, a distance that suddenly seems very, very far. "I like your new companion much more than your old one!"
"Me too!" Someone else says, and there are general enthusiastic sounds of agreement from around the car. "Way cuter!" "Nice job!" "Fuck Simon, anyhow!" "Yeah, forget him!" "You've traded up!"
It occurs to David that the rest of the wedding party thinks he's Dave's date. He turns to look at Dave, and then back at the rest of the smiling faces.
"Oh, we're not...I mean, I'm just sitting here because...he's...I'm not..." David is ready to pretty much drink the rest of the champagne in the car when his mouth and brain refuse to work right.
"Guys, chill. We're just sharing space." Dave is shaking his head at them, and raising a dismissive hand. "I am happily dateless at this party. And I'm sure David has better prospects."
There's some pooh-poohing around the car, but the discussion, after a few more choice words regarding this Simon person, turns to other things. David finally relaxes. He turns a little, and sees the pensive expression from earlier on Dave's face. A couple of things fall into place.
"Bad breakup?" David guesses. When Dave doesn't answer, and just takes another drink, he immediately backpedals. "Oh, gosh, I don't mean to pry. You just said earlier, you know...about talking..."
Darn the close quarters in this car! Brooke leans over, in a voice that would normally be confidential, but of course everyone can hear her. "Horrible breakup, more like. And Simon is a total user, Dave. Nobody was kidding when they said you're better off."
David hates that he's instigated this conversation that is obviously starting to make Dave uncomfortable, but Dave finally answers, after downing the rest of his glass. "I agree, okay guys? It was bound to happen eventually, and I am better off." He holds out his glass. "Now. A refill, so we can toast Carly and Mike some more."
David sits back while the refills happen, and doesn't say anything else until they arrive at the hotel.
And, he's starting to think one of those sturdy thighs he's been perched upon is hollow, because as they spill out of the car, Dave claps Jason on the shoulder and declares, "Open bar time!" He's smiling like no one had said a single word about his recent breakup, the one David would still like to know more about but doesn't know how to ask. "C'mon, let's go!"
Dave grabs David by the arm, and makes a beeline up the grand steps of the Roosevelt. David has no option but to follow, trying not to flail, and blushing furiously as the wedding party stares as one at the whiskey bottle in his hand.
7pm
Sitting at a little round table near the bar and doodling on a cocktail napkin, Dave realizes he had two options back in the limo. And he knows he took the right one; getting David Archuleta calmly off his lap without incident, and starting to medicate himself into a state of whiskey dick. Because goddamn, the way David's ass looks in those pants is nothing compared to the way it feels, and Dave had been far too close to making that opinion known.
The other option, yanking David back into the dark confines of the limo and handing the driver a couple of bills to just keep on driving, wasn't really an option at all. More like a fantasy.
So, he's congratulating himself on embracing reality and good behavior by having another drink; a double, if truth be known, and waiting for the master of ceremonies to start announcing the wedding party. They're all supposed to make some grand entrance, groomsmen and bridesmaids together, although he knows Kristy Lee would be more than willing to swan into the room all by her own damn self. She's never had much patience for him, and she and her cleavage really should always work alone.
In other news, his best-man's speech is going well. Or at least, it's going. He's only on the fourth napkin, but he's going to make his point here soon.
...and then there was the time I walked in on Carly and Mike going at it in the crossover. He had her hitting all the notes that Simon had been bitching about her not hitting in rehearsal. Of course, that was Simon for you. Always had lots of commentary on what you were doing wrong, but not a thing to say if you were really giving it everything you had, and putting your whole heart into...
Oh, God. He's doing it again, getting all maudlin and stupid. Hopefully the emcee will just have the sense to cut his mic or something. Or maybe by then he'll be so fucking wasted he can't even make the speech. They'll have to find someone else.
Someone who still believes in happily-ever-after. Dave's been staring off into space for a minute now, and when he returns to the present, he realizes someone has joined him at his table-for-one.
"Dave," David Archuleta says gently. "They're about to announce the wedding party, and Kristy's...well. She'll probably be happier once you're in your proper place."
Dave just looks at David, and after a moment, David asks. "Are you okay?"
"I'm trying to write this toast for Carly and Mike, and it's like the hardest thing I've ever done. Everything I say just...it's terrible. I don't know if I can do it. They deserve something beautiful, not something that's going to automatically raise the divorce rate."
"Oh, I'm positive it's not that bad, let me...oh." Dave takes another swallow of his drink as he watches David Archuleta's perfect eyebrows climb towards his hair. "You...maybe you shouldn't say the part about the person you love the most turning into the person you want to kill..."
"With an axe," Dave finishes, swirling the ice in his glass. "Too graphic, you think?"
"Among other things," David answers. Gently, he takes the glass out of Dave's hand. "Do me a favor. I know you love Mike and Carly, and you want to do this right. But now you need to go line up with the others. I know, it's a pain, but just walk in, smile and wave, and then come back here. I'll help you with the rest of it, if you want."
"You mean you'll help get rid of my unfortunate crime-of-passion motif?"
"Yes, that."
"Okay." Dave stands up, and unfortunately, now he's starting to wobble a bit. "Okay." David stands up with him, almost looking like he might make an attempt to grab if Dave starts to fall over, but Dave self-corrects and takes a quick inventory. Button the jacket, then surreptitiously check the fly. Make a quick dig at the hair that probably makes it stand up even worse than before.
David, meanwhile, reaches up to take hold of Dave's eternally-limp bow tie. "Again, we have to stop meeting like this," he murmurs, almost too softly for Dave to hear over the band gearing up.
"I actually kinda hope not," Dave replies, just as quietly, and he knows the words hit their mark as David's face colors.
Dave smiles a little and takes hold of David's hand, even just to move it away from his tie. "Leave it undone. It's a good look for me."
David smiles back, a quirk of pink lips, and Dave's mouth goes dry as David meets his gaze from under those thick lashes. "I don't disagree," David says. And he lets Dave move his hand, and then steps back. "Better go before the bridesmaids have a fit."
"I'm going," Dave replies, and he walks backwards so he can watch David stand there and fidget just a little bit longer.
And then he's maneuvered into position by Brooke, so that he can swagger under the flower-festooned arches like a pimp, with Kristy on his arm looking hot and only minorly pissed off, which is probably a stretch for her. The DJ puts on some song, too loud for him to even recognize at the moment, and that's their cue to walk in as the guy calls their names like he's announcing a fight at Caesar's Palace.
He sees David watching him a few times, and can't stop smiling.
*
For all that he's been an integral part of this wedding, David doesn't have to walk in with the wedding party, so he gets himself a soda from the bar, and hangs to one side keep an eye on the proceedings. Mainly, he's wondering if Dave Cook will somehow go awry, but really, the guy seems to be in almost complete possession of his faculties, in spite of having finished off most of a bottle of whiskey, a couple of glasses of champagne, and who knows how many cocktails at the bar. Dave somehow even manages to charm Kristy Lee into abandoning her stinkface in favor of a sparkling smile, and that's saying a lot for his abilities. The guy may not be able to keep his clothing in line, but he's got a way with people, that's for sure.
He also knows how to make a good entrance, and as the crashing strains of U2's "Elevation" vibrate through the speakers, Dave spins Kristy, and dips her in such a manner that she almost pops out of her dress, but he saves her from embarrassment at the last moment and rights her to applause, whistles, and camera-flashes.
Then, right before the grand crescendo, the emcee announces "Please join me in welcoming the couple of the moment, Mr. and Mrs. Michael Johns, everyone!", and there is a thunderous standing ovation as they parade into the room and the music skirls all around them.
I and eye in the sky
You make me feel like I can fly
So high
Elevation
Love
Lift me up from out of these blues
Won't you tell me something true
I believe in you...
And David sees Dave looking at him, as Carly and Mike circle the room to acknowledge their admirers. He feels that hot prickle under his collar again, and suddenly his own tie is far too tight. He tugs to loosen it, and backs away, into the periphery and out of range of Dave's blatant gaze. He ends up near the gift table, where someone has arranged easels containing artist's boards crowded with photos from Carly's past, and Mike's, from childhood through awkward adolescence and early adulthood. Then there is a collage of them together, with people like Brooke and Jason and Syesha and the other people from their LA theater group, and...yeah, that's Dave, there, with longer hair, far more innocent and wide-eyed than David could have imagined him.
David scans the photos more closely at this, and finds Dave in several of them, wide-mouthed and laughing, or making faces. And then, there's one...there's a shot of Mike and Carly rehearsing onstage in the glow of a spotlight, but behind them, David can see Dave standing in the wings. There's a taller, older man next to him, his hand possessively on the back of Dave's neck, whispering in his ear, something important, something that has Dave pressing his knuckles to his lips and looking away...
It's an almost unbearably intimate moment. Even the flat image is so eloquent that David looks away, feeling like he's invaded Dave's privacy. He should probably ask Brooke, to be sure, but he's positive the man talking in Dave's ear in the photo is the infamous Simon. Now, suddenly, David understands all the drinking (inasmuch as he ever understands drinking, anyhow) and the trying not to talk about it. He knows that Dave is doing whatever it takes to make it hurt less.
And having to write a speech about marriage and true love and forever is probably not helping him. David recalls his promise to help with this process, and decides that if nothing else, this is the least he can do. Because even though he doesn't really have vast experiences in true love, at least he hasn't just had it jerked out from under him like a cheap rug.
So he goes looking for Dave; they're going to get this done, so that Carly and Mike can have a lovely toast, and then Dave can quit thinking about it. In the back of David's mind, also, is the fact that there will be dancing later, and hey, maybe if Dave's in a good mood, and feels like it...what? David shakes his head. Is he really thinking about sort of hitting on the guy? Not that he ever really hits on anyone, per se...that requires some level of smooth that David is pretty sure he doesn't possess, and would feel stupid trying to pull off, even long enough to get Dave to dance with him. Or hang out with him, maybe at one of those secluded little corner tables...no! Time to focus, there's a job to be done here.
And then David wonders if he's actually got some kind of unconscious radar for Dave, because he practically runs into him talking to a couple of the other groomsmen.
"Oh, hey, I thought I was the drunk one," Dave grins, and he's already got another glass in his hand, darn it! David practically bounces off Dave's sturdy shoulder, and Dave puts a big hand on David's arm, steadying him.
"I think, um, I mean...people are going to be sitting down to dinner, soon, and that means...your toast? We should, I mean...you should probably finish it?"
"My toast...oh! Yeah, man, don't worry. I've got it dialed. Check this out." Dave pulls up his sleeve, and for a moment all David can see is muscular forearm, until he notices wobbly writing extending almost from wrist to elbow. If that's a tattoo...it's a pretty bad one.
It's not a tattoo. "You wrote on your arm?" David asks incredulously.
"Yeah! I mean, I kinda lost the napkin I was using earlier, so I improvised. Whattya think?"
David reads:
On this lovely night
Carly and Mike are married
May they not divorce.
"A haiku?" he says evenly.
"Keep going, there's more." Dave turns his arm over.
They've got good chances
Of going the distance, yeah
If they don't fuck up.
And after that, there is a limerick that David has a hard time reading, and has to sort of sound it out, and then he has to stop reading, because it's crude and inappropriate, and he almost says the f-word before he stops himself. He can feel Dave next to him, warm and exhaling alcohol fumes that are almost enough to make David tipsy by proximity.
"Dave," he says, gently pulling the sleeve of Dave's tux down over the dubious wedding toast. "This isn't going to work, okay?"
Almost immediately, Dave slumps a little. "Right? I'm so fucked. I just can't make it come together. Some best man I turned out to be."
David doesn't think, he just takes Dave by the hand and pulls him over to one of the tables he was noticing earlier. If nothing else, they need a few moments of peace and quiet. When Dave sets his drink down and looks away for a second, David picks it up and neatly dumps the contents behind him into a potted palm, before replacing the glass on the table. Dave looks more than a little confused when his eyes light on his empty glass, but David distracts him.
"Look, I said I'd help you with this, and I will. Just don't think about Si...the stuff that's bothering you, okay? Think about Carly and Mike."
Dave's eyes tighten a little bit at David's slip, but he nods slowly. "Carly and Mike, right. They're awesome, I love them, and they love each other."
"You're a good best man. Say it with me."
"I'm a good best man. The best. Best man for th' job." Dave is starting to sound a little slurry, and that's worrisome. But snaps out of it before David can ask if he's all right, and leans over. He puts a hand over David's, and David feels Dave's knee bump his legs under the table. "Be honest," he commands, only inches away, and looking right into David's eyes. "You don't think I'm so bad to be around, do you?"
Dave figures he must be really drunk, because the filter between his brain and his mouth has vanished and he's blurting out anything that comes to mind. Actually, the filter between his brain and his writing hand has gone as well. Has he really written a haiku and dirty limerick on his arm? That last one must be thanks to the cocktails. And where his last Dirty Duck martini has gotten to, he hasn't a clue.
David is looking at him with eyes that are wider than usual; he's so close that Dave can see swimming gold flecks in his dark irises... and Dave realizes what he's just said. Score one more for that lack of filter. Still, David doesn't seem to be pulling away, although he's blushed again, all the way to his spiky hairline. If he keeps blushing this attractively, Dave isn't sure he'll be able to turn off the innuendo, or the blatant come-ons, because, yeah, that's what that pretty much was.
"No," is what David says, finally. "No, I've enjoyed hanging out with you. It's been interesting, so far, anyway," David amends, cautiously, and Dave presses on before he can stop himself.
"You know, I've no idea why you're here without a date."
David glances away at this, a little less comfortable with this topic of conversation, but he still doesn't move away. His knees are warm against Dave's. "Ah, I wanted to focus on helping Carly out today. Besides... I've been really busy with the orchestra, and I'm kind of new in town, I don't really have anyone I could have asked."
"Maybe you haven't met the right guy," Dave says softly, and he's stopped worrying about filters. He doesn't realize he'd put his hand on David's until he feels warm fingers twitch under his palm, and he has to look down to convince himself David's hand is there.
"Maybe," David says, and looks back at Dave. "I guess I haven't really been looking, though."
"Sometimes love sneaks up on you when you're not looking," says Dave, and kind of wants to smack himself at the cheesiness of the line. You're cute when you're this obvious, Simon would have said. Dave needs to stop thinking about Simon: not everything needs to be tainted by his cynical commentary.
The line seems to work on David, though, who smiles with enthusiasm. "I believe that," David says. "Like the love where you know everything's right from the word go? Like you just know you're meant to be with that person?" His eyes find Dave's again, which is how Dave discovers that the filter between his mind and his body now isn't working, because his dress pants feel suspiciously tight again all of a sudden.
Dave fights down the urge to pull David's hand into his lap. Quick, cover with something: "Yeah, well, not all of us are that lucky. Sometimes you think you know what love's about, and when you realize you don't, you're starring in your private version of Chicago the Musical." Hm, maybe he should have covered with something else. Dave's kind of appalled the conversation's taken this domestic violence-esque turn again: clearly his internal Cowell-cynicism has even managed to color his appreciation of David's idealistic smile.
Which dims, now, briefly, making Dave feels like a failure in the come-on department, and also like a bit of a heel. He's readying an apology, when David comes back with: "Sometimes you don't know what love's about. Then you meet some guy who's kinda sad, like love's let him down, and you want to see what he looks like when he's happy, then, you think you might know."
Dave stares for a second, because he can't believe how perfect a response that is, and how David looks when he says it, simple and luminous like a stained-glass window in a sanctuary. There's a sudden hotness in Dave's face, a burning in his eyes, which he can't entirely attribute to the alcohol. And he realizes he's smiling, like David said he'd wanted to see, so hard his face hurts like a fool's, like he hasn't smiled in so long.
"How about that," he murmurs, also like a fool, and leans toward David, who takes him literally, and again it's perfect.
"This? You look...you look happy," David whispers. "It's a good look on you."
And there isn't anything to say in reply except, "It's because of you," and Dave's moving in closer, and David isn't sliding away, and who knows what might have happened if Jason Castro hadn't chosen that moment to approach their table with his conspicuous dreads and incredibly lousy romantic timing.
"Dave, stop drowning your sorrows, dammit! It's dinnertime, and you're up!"
"Dude," groans Dave, and then, "Oh God, the speech. I am so screwed."
Jason finds this hilarious, and Dave experiences a moment of panic, before he finds his center in David's serious eyes.
"You'll improv. You're a good best man, remember? Best man for the job. You'll knock 'em dead." David's fingers squeeze his, making his face feel hot again.
"As long as you think so," says Dave, and lets David help him rise.
8 pm
David's very aware of Dave's warm body against his, as they walk together out of the bar after Jason and steer down the hallway to the ballroom. Maybe Dave is leaning a little more than strictly necessary, David can't be sure, but Dave hasn't stopped grinning since he left the table; he'd just thrown one heavy arm around David's neck and kind of hooked him close, and is now walking all pressed up along David's side.
Still, even if Dave is using drunkenness as a pretext to get a little handsy with David, David can't actually bring himself to care. David isn't sure where his remark about love had come from; he'd just wanted to make Dave smile for a change, and Dave had indeed smiled, slowly and a little hesitantly at first, and then like a sunrise, and his eyes had gotten kind of red.
And for an instant maybe David knew what love might feel like.
It was mostly physical, like the way David's skin felt hot and tight where Dave's hands were on him, like his body where Dave's warm bulk is resting against him now. But there's a non-physical part as well, a light, kind of giddy feeling like the one he gets when he's playing at his best, at one with the music. David isn't sure if he's ever been in love, to tell the truth, so he isn't sure if that's happening, and surely it takes longer than an afternoon to fall in love with someone? But maybe that's all it takes. Maybe.
Dave comes to an abrupt halt at the doorway to the ballroom, and against the tether of Dave's arm, David's pulled to a stop as well. The elegance of the Roosevelt dining room takes David's breath away: the splendid rococo chandelier reflecting light off the mirrored panels, the shining silver cutlery, the white and scarlet roses massed on the tables, the laughing people dressed in their formal best.
A soft, "Shit, look how many people are here," beside his ear alerts David to the fact that Dave may have other concerns than the finery of the room.
David glances at him; Dave is looking pretty nervous, rubbing a hand over his jaw. David's momentarily distracted by Dave's adam's apple, then focuses and pats Dave's arm in what he hopes is a supportive way.
"C'mon, it's gonna be fine. Do I need to make you say it with me?"
At this, Dave looks sideways at him, breaking out into that grin again. "I got it. Best man for this and any job," he says, ducking his head so he can whisper in David's ear, and they walk through the doorway into the festooned ballroom.
David remembers working with Carly on the table seating, so he's able to steer Dave in the direction of the best man's seat at the head table, a couple of chairs down from the bridal couple, between Shannon and Kristy Lee. Dave flings his rumpled self heavily into his seat, runs a hand through his hair and grins around the table as if he's memorized his speech.
"That's good. You've totally got this," David murmurs, patting Dave on the back, and leaves to go find his own seat.
Which isn't where he remembers it. It confuses him, because he recalls putting himself at the very end of the top table, after the siblings and bridesmaids and groomsmen and their dates...until he realizes someone (Brooke? Syesha?) has switched placecards and put him directly opposite Dave instead.
It's too late to sort this out now; everyone else is seated and dinner is already running late as it is. David slides into the last unoccupied chair, between Shannon's date and Kristy Lee's, and looks across the roses and silverware into Dave Cook's eyes.
I know, we have to stop meeting like this, he mouths over to Dave, who gives him a theatrical wink.
The speeches commence with some fanfare, Carly's dad getting up to give the father of the bride speech. David is having some difficulty focusing because someone's nudging his foot under the table, and he doesn't believe Dave would try something like this - what if Dave flirtatiously kicks Kristy Lee's serious-looking girlfriend by mistake, or the sister's already-uncomfortable-looking date? That would be supremely embarrassing.
As the speech progresses, Dave similarly progresses to taking his shoe off: warm toes are wiggling on top of David's foot. David looks away, resolutely, and pretends to concentrate on Carly's dad's anecdotes about Carly's childhood in Ireland. Carly's dad has a lovely Irish brogue, and speaks in lavish flourishes - everyone's laughing at the stories of little Carly's stage diva ways, her girlhood in Utah, and coming out to the West Coast, "where her life's path there entwined with Mike's".
Carly's dad ends by asking them to raise their glasses, "To Carly and Mike - may your shared road always come up to meet you, and the wind always be at your backs." When David gets to his feet he dislodges Dave's foot, and Dave smirks at him. David sips from his wineglass; Dave looks at first like he's going to drain his, but then catches David's warning glance and takes a moderate swallow instead.
The next couple of speeches are from Mike's family, and David's so engrossed in tales from Australia that he's momentarily confused when Dave eventually levers himself to his feet amid a dinging of crystalware.
David gives Dave a hopefully reassuring smile, and holds his breath.
Dave looks like he's taking a deep breath himself; he fiddles with one cuff, and David experiences a stab of panic that Dave's going to roll it up and start reading from the dirty limerick. Then he shakes his hair back, and his eyes shine in the candlelight, and he says quietly, "For those of you who don't know me, I'm Dave Cook, the best man. You know, when Mike asked me to stand up for him and speak at his wedding, at first, I was confused. I mean, why me? What do I know about love, right? I still feel confused, by the way," he adds, and there's a ripple of laughter.
"But then I figured: I might not know much about love, but what I do know is what I've learned watching Mike and Carly fall in love," and Dave leans over so he can raise his glass at the bridal couple. Carly presses her hand to her chest, and, what do you know, this might actually go pretty well.
"I first met Mike when I auditioned for the L.A. City Players. We hit it off right away. You know you've found a friend for life when you meet a guy willing to sing Angel's part to your Collins, and ready to sneak you a hit of Jameson to steady your nerves a bit so you can sing properly. And then I met Carly too, and I kind of fell in love with her a little - it's not often I meet a girl who can drink me under the table, but she totally could!"
David thinks this drinking reference might be a little risque, but Carly's dad is laughing appreciatively, and so is Mike's - David guesses it takes the robust Irish and Australians to approve of this kind of thing.
Dave continues softly,"Not that I'd have a chance with Carly, of course, because it was obvious from the moment I met them that there was only one guy for her. They were still just friends and co-workers at the time, but they spent every spare moment they had with each other, and really anyone with eyes could see they were falling in love with each other. That was the year we did Chicago the Musical, and when Mike did his big showstopper on opening night..." Here, Dave pauses, kind of strikes a pose, and breaks into song:
"Give 'em the old razzle dazzle
Razzle Dazzle 'em
Give 'em an act with lots of flash in it
And the reaction will be passionate..."
David realizes he's staring, because though he knows Dave is a trained theatrical singer he didn't expect Dave's singing voice to be this resonant, this evocative. Dave's voice wobbles a little at the end, though, and David turns when he hears laughter and sniffles behind him: Carly is giggling and wiping away tears, Brooke is sobbing into someone's handkerchief, and Mike gets to his feet to lead the applause.
Dave smiles and sketches a bow at them. "Mike does that much better than me! So much better, he won the heart of his fair lady that night." Dave makes a self-deprecating gesture, and the clapping dies away. "After that, Mike and Carly couldn't deny the way they felt about each other; they finally saw what all of us around them could see: that they'd fallen in love with each other, that they were meant to be together."
Dave pauses and swallows; David recognizes the small wince in Dave's expression, and realizes that night for Mike and Carly might have been meaningful for Dave and Simon, too. Dave continues with some difficulty, "I may or may not look it, but I'm a pretty cynical guy. I'm not usually one for falling in love, the whole razzle dazzle thing," and David feels all hot and tingly, like he wants to punch Simon in the nose for putting the discomfort he sees in Dave's eyes.
But Dave rallies, smiles crookedly and says, "Still, y'know, even a cynic like me could see that Mike and Carly were meant to be together forever, that they'd grow old together. Their love...their love makes even someone like me believe that you can come through everything life throws at you, and still end up with the person you're were meant to be with." Then he has to stop, and rub his eyes awkwardly. The sobbing around them is a lot louder now, and David himself feels the prickle behind his lashes.
When he's done surreptitiously wiping with tissue, he sees Dave Cook looking straight at him, and it makes him suddenly, ridiculously proud. Dave clearly sees something in David's own eyes, too, because he pulls himself upright and launches back into what sounds like the closing part of his speech.
"When I agreed to be Mike's best man and give this speech, I actually read a book on speech-giving. The Toastmaster's Guide to the Galaxy, something like that." Dave pauses for the laughter; David rolls his eyes - if that's even true, he bets the book didn't advocate maudlin haiku or dirty limericks. "Apparently it's customary to end your wedding dinner speech with a quote from a nice poem, or something from Shakespeare. Did you guys know that? No?"
Dave grins and continues, "Well. I might have thought about writing a poem, as it happens -" and David, panicking, wonders if he'd better tackle Dave to the floor, to stop him from reading the appalling draft verses out loud, in front of Carly's mother and everybody - "but I decided not to inflict my muse on you before the main course. You guys are totally missing out, though," he adds, and winks at David again, who doesn't know whether to sag with relief or throw a bread roll at him.
"Instead, I'll leave you with a quote from our latest show, which is a production of RENT. You know the theme song, "Seasons of Love", right? Mike and Carly and I, and many of the wedding party, must have have sung this song a hundred times, but it always feels brand new. The song asks, 'How do you measure the life of a woman or a man?' And it answers, 'You measure in love'. Mike and Carly, by that and any measure, your lives are full to the brim, miles and tons and wide acres, minutes and years."
Dave looks around, lifts his glass, and said, "And I'd like to ask you all to rise and join me in toasting the bride and groom. Mike and Carly: may their lives always measure in love."
The applause rises, Carly's still crying when she throws kisses down the table, someone says, "Best best man speech ever!" And as Dave, flushed with his own success, takes his seat with a flourish, he looks across at David again.
David just sits there, kind of stunned and amazed at the perfect, touching sentiment that Dave has managed to pull out of his proverbial hat, or wherever he's been hiding it. In fact, Dave himself looks pretty surprised, now that the applause is starting to fall off around them, and people are doing that glasses-clinking thing to get the bride and groom to kiss. Which they do, quite passionately, to cheers and more clapping.
But, David realizes, Dave is still looking at him, kind of like he wants to say something, but his smooth, silver tongue has deserted him. Knowing that Dave won't be able to hear him, David mouths That was perfect.
And Dave sort of makes a little mouth, and then replies, equally soundlessly I had good help. It's a simple statement, but it makes David warm all over, a spreading feeling that starts in his stomach, or maybe lower or higher, he can't really tell, and spreads outward until it makes his fingers tingle and his ears ring.
...the person you were meant to be with. He can hear those words echoing amidst the noise in his ears.
The ears-ringing thing is what makes him not notice that Syesha has been trying to get his attention. She finally gets up from her seat and crouches down next to him. "David! We have a problem!"
Slowly, her face comes into focus in front of him. She's holding a crumpled piece of paper in her hands, and for a moment David is worried that she's gotten ahold of one of Dave's earlier speeches. He feels an insistent foot against his leg, because apparently Dave thinks the same thing.
"What's the problem?" David asks, gathering the calm he needed earlier when all the pre-wedding details seemed to keep coming unraveled along with Dave Cook's tie and sobriety.
"Brooke just can't get it together enough to do her Maid of Honor toast," Syesha explains. "So, I said I'd do it and all, but I can't read her writing...she cried on the paper, and the ink ran, and...I have no idea, David! I'm not so great on the fly like this, 'specially following an act like that," she nods across the table at Dave, who seems to have snapped out of his earlier starry-eyed mien and raises his glass at her jauntily. "And Kristy said she's tired of standing in his stupid spotlight, god, she's been kind of a bitch tonight, but anyhow...David, please?"
David looks away from Syesha, away from what she's asking of him, and at Dave. Whose eyes change again, and soften, and he almost looks...he looks encouraging, and a little conspiratorial. Kind of like, go on, you can do this.
And David already knows he's not so great on the fly either, and yes, he's going to be following a class act here, but he's going to do this anyhow. He nods at Syesha and she presses the worthless scrap of paper into his hands. He sees Dave grin at him as he drops it, and they both hold out their champagne glasses for refills as David slowly stands up.
The girls thankfully pass the microphone over, and David stands up and clears his throat. Unfortunately, the mic is already on, and it comes across louder than a thunderclap, and the entire room jumps in their seats. David feels himself blush, what on earth has possessed him to do this?
And he looks down at Dave again, who is looking at him like he's absolutely sure David is going to deliver. Like he can't wait to hear what David's going to say. Like it's just the two of them in the room, and David...
David had better make this good, because, somehow it matters. More than just to Carly and Mike and these wedding guests.
Now that the entire gathering is quiet, David takes a deep breath.
...to be continued
Go to FTDF Part 3