FIC: From This Day Forward (Part 3)

[villainprovence]

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 a 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.





"I, uh...this isn't really one of my strong suits, but...well, I hate to see a lady in distress..." he gestures over at Brooke, who is still bawling into a handkerchief, uncomforted by Kristy Lee's half-hearted back-patting. "This is supposed to be Brooke's speech, since she's the Maid of Honor, but, well...I imagine if I were a girl, Carly would have had me in a bridesmaid's dress too, so here goes."

Okay, what the heck did he just say? Dave looks like he's trying not to laugh, and that's probably pretty much how everyone else feels, because a wave of chuckles ripples through the room. David swallows, and turns to look at Carly and Mike.

"I remember when Carly first started talking about Mike," he says. "She was playing Velma Kelly in Chicago, and all I heard her talk about for a couple of weeks was how irritated she was that the male lead broke his leg, and she was going to spend extra hours working with the Billy Flynn understudy. And how she thought his accent was ridiculous, and that he didn't have the dancing chops for the role."

Mike is grinning hugely at this point, and Carly looks a little mortified. David knows that Brooke could've told this story as well, since she'd been playing Roxie Hart, and was equally skeptical of this new guy they had playing Billy. "I'd go to lunch with Carly, and listen to her complain, and all I could say was, just give this guy a chance. Maybe he's not what you initially had in mind, but he might surprise you. If you've already decided he's going to be terrible, and that working with him is going to be a chore, then it's as much your fault that he stinks as it is his, you know?" David warms to telling the story a bit, and everyone starts to listen expectantly. Dave included, even though David knows he was involved in this production as well.

"Well, because Carly is a lot sweeter of a girl than Velma Kelly, she said she'd give Mike a chance, at least, and wouldn't shoot him unless he screwed up opening night, or something." The crowd laughs again. "She started going to his dance practices, to give him moral support, and to help him out on the partner stuff, and before I knew it, I'd lost my lunch partner." David smiles over at Mike, because he remembers the first time he'd called Carly to go grab a bite, and she'd sheepishly answered that she was at a diner with Mike. "And by the time opening night rolled around...I don't know if they were totally aware of it yet, but everyone in the place could see the chemistry they had together. It was electric, and they brought the house down, and they've been together ever since."

Mike and Carly are smiling at each other, remembering. David waits a moment, gathering his thoughts, because now he's going off-script, so to speak. "What happened between the two of them probably surprised them more than it did anyone else. And it makes me think, how many of us let something good go past, because we think it's not what's meant to happen right then, or we've got other plans?" He waits, and he doesn't quite have the courage to look over at Dave right now. "Or we're thinking about how something didn't work out for us, in the past, and we're not going to let that happen again?" He can actually feel the glass shaking in his hand a bit, and he holds it tighter to steady himself.

"What I'm trying to say is, that, seeing Mike and Carly here today, starting their life together, it makes me want to not ever let something like that pass me by, something that seems unexpected or inconvenient, or maybe that I think I'm not ready for..." Now he knows he's not so much talking about the Mike and Carly thing anymore, and that's okay, because he needs to get these words out. "And I'd like to ask everyone here tonight, as they celebrate Mike and Carly's love, to consider doing the same thing. Don't let it pass you by. Give love a chance, even if you don't know that's what you're doing." His throat spasms on the words, as if he's maybe said too much, and he raises his glass to the room, and then to the bride and groom. "To my dear friends, the newly-made Mr. and Mrs. Michael Johns...who may be the reason for other romances that are born tonight."

And he looks down, at Dave Cook, meets his eyes directly, and raises the glass just slightly again, before tipping it back for a far larger swallow than he'd intended.

When he sits back down, he realizes that his speech has concluded the official toasts, and the priest steps forward to offer a blessing. David bows his head respectfully; normally he tries to meditate on the words of any true-felt prayer, regardless of if it comes out of his own tradition or not. But again, all he can hear is the rushing of his own pulse in his ears.

A plate of artfully arranged food has arrived by the time he looks up, and Dave catches his eye at this point. There's a feeling there that the moment hasn't been broken, but maybe it's something they'll return to later. Dave pokes his first course of shrimp with hearts of palm and papaya, which occupies about a square inch of real estate at the center of the gleaming porcelain plate. "I think I'm going to need a burger later," he grins.

It dispels a bit of the tension, and David smiles back. "I think it's supposed to be more pretty than satisfying," he replies.

"I think I'd prefer if it were both, but yeah," Dave nods. "I liked your speech. Y'know, during that production, I'd go to get a drink with Mike, and he'd be all waxing poetic about his gorgeous lead, and how he was going to get her to go out with him if it was the last thing he did. You had to admire the guy's positive thinking." He eats the large, citrus-glazed shrimp in one bite. "And I coached him on his accent, just so you know." He looks a little pleased at that, in a self-deprecating way that is utterly charming.

David laughs. "It turned out really well. Although that explains why Billy ended up with more of a heartland accent than a New York one."

"Well, I'm from Missouri. And we were short on time."

David decides to satisfy his curiosity, because he's been wondering. "What was your role in that production? I saw it a few times, and I don't remember you." He's sure he would remember Dave, even if he'd just been a swing.

"I was with...I was assistant director on that one. First time I'd done it." He looks over at his now-empty glass, and David understands what Dave's not saying, and wishes he'd never asked.

"It was a really slick production," David offers, knowing this is small comfort. The clink of tableware and the babble of voices seems to fall away around them, and David is determined to make this better. "I wish I'd seen you perform sometime. I was doing a guest spot with the Vancouver Symphony during the full run of Rent."

Dave smiles a little at this. "I wish you'd been around for that too. We were fucking spectacular. I mean, the whole cast, the whole show, it was phenomenal."

"I can imagine." David takes a deep breath, and gathers his courage. "I definitely want to see you next time. I mean...your show, whatever it ends up being. Whatever you're in." He fumbles slightly, simultaneously glad he'd done better with this speech, and also wishing he could've saved a little bit of articulacy for this. "What are you performing in next?"

"We're doing Jersey Boys next," Dave replies. "But I'm not sure I'm going to be staying with the company. I have some friends who have a band...they're about to do a small-club tour, and they asked me to sit in for someone. I miss playing that kind of music, so...I was considering it."

"So you'd be traveling a lot?" David tries to keep the disappointment out of his voice. Obviously, if this is what Dave wants to do, that's cool, and he's happy for him, but...still. Maybe he's just chasing his own tail after all, and Dave's not really interested, and why would he be, because they maybe really don't have all that much in common, and they're both busy, and...

"I dunno. The traveling thing seems less appealing to me, lately. Like, maybe I might want to stay closer to home." Dave says the words without any particular inflection, but his eyes have that earnest light in them again, the one that's so hard to look away from, and David feels his heartbeat stutter a little bit.

"LA is great," he says, trying to cover the slight tremor he thinks is in his voice. "I'm kind of happy that I won't be doing any touring the rest of the year, myself."

The next course has appeared, and David has lost whatever appetite he might have had for the plate of curly frisee and smoked salmon that has appeared in front of him. He watches Dave spear a bright green asparagus tip with his fork and bite it in half.

"Wouldn't mind catching one of your shows, either," Dave says. "Haven't seen a performance at the Hollywood Bowl in a long time."

David grins. "You should do that then. I can leave tickets for you, any time. You just have to let me know."

David smiles back at him, and David feels their legs align under the table again. It's not something he has to acknowledge, but it's really nice that it's happening. He's pretty sure he's just asked out Dave Cook. Score one for him.

And it's just nice. They talk, and occasionally join other conversations at the table, but David remains very, very aware of Dave's warmth, and proximity, and the way he seems to be smiling at David when he's not looking. And it takes Dave a few courses to notice that he's out of booze again, which is a very good thing. In fact, they make it all the way to the cake cutting, which is a distraction in itself.

Mike and Carly pose for pictures at the cake table, hovering alternately with knife poised, his hand over hers, and then holding large pieces up to each others' open mouths.

"Wanna bet who gets hosed first?" Dave leans over to ask David. David almost jumps at the tickle of breath in his ear; Dave has gotten up with his glass and is standing next to him. "Mike's probably been waiting to smear it all over her face all night."

Raising a hand to tug at his ear, which is tingling from the inadvertent touch of Dave's lips, David disagrees. "No, she's pretty stealthy. No way. She's got this." And they watch, together, as sure enough, Carly ducks Mike's attempt and then crushes a handful of white-frosted cake against his nose.

"Well, you were right. Wonder what you would've wanted from me, since you'd have won that bet," Dave says in David's ear.

And then, before David can even finish his shiver, Dave's up and away, walking back towards the bar to finally get a refill.

*

9 pm

Okay, so...Archuleta. Is hot. And impossibly ingenue-grade charming. And hot. And earnest, because the speech he just gave sounded...true. And right. And like the kind of thing Dave might want to hear more of, like, maybe, in a car, looking out over the lights of the city. Or on a beach, while the sun sets in the distance.

Or, hell, why avoid it? In his bed, while looking into those dark eyes, feeling the heat of naked limbs entwined with his own.

Oh, boy. He really maybe needs to get a grip. This shit is all way too romantic for him to be thinking about. Must be the wedding effect, it gets people all moony. It's why he needs another drink very badly, like his mouth waters just at the thought of the cold vodka. And he has the bartender stir his martini, because the whole Bond getting them shaken thing? Bond needed a weak martini, because he was likely to have to shoot some guy and jump out of a plane. Dave needs a strong one, or he's likely to walk over to Archuleta and say things he might regret. Things he's not ready to say, because he just hasn't picked off all the scabs yet. He's not ready to.

So he drinks, and reminds himself of all the reasons why romance is a Bad Idea. But David keeps wandering across his consciousness...he's eating cake and laughing when Brooke points out frosting on his lip. He's talking to Carly's parents, and being the perfect best friend. He's consulting with the bandleader and the DJ, because the dancing is about to start, and he's getting offers from pretty girls in sparkly dresses, and smiling as he says things Dave can almost hear...he'd love to, and you're sweet for asking, but right now he's helping Carly, he wants things to be perfect...

Because that's just what he does. With David Archuleta, maybe things could be perfect.

The emcee brings the lights down, finally, because the time has come for the bride and groom's first dance. The first strains of music swell, and Mike holds out his hand to Carly from the glow of a single spotlight at the center of the floor. She goes to him, and for just a perfect moment, they are still. And then, they move, swaying to the smoky voice that fills the room. Mike holds Carly like she's a fragile, lovely stem, and she looks at him like he's the answer to all her questions.

Dave watches, rapt, because it's one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen.

At last, my love has come along
My lonely days are over, and life is like a song
Oh yeah, at last...

And somehow, in a shred of light at the side of the band, there's David Archuleta, looking at them too. That is, until he seems to feel the same energy, and looks up at Dave.

"Nice to see them together like that, they make a lovely couple. Not that theater people ever are really much for the long haul," comments a voice behind him.

Dave has to grip his glass as it almost slides out of his hand. He turns, and Simon is leaning against the bar, still looking at Carly and Mike. The lights are too dim to see more than a glimmer of smile on Simon's face, so Dave hopes his own face is hidden in shadow. He feels sick, and something else. He wishes it were just anger, but it's not.

I found a thrill to rest my cheek to,
A thrill that I have never known, oh yeah when you smile, you smile...

"What are you doing here?" Dave asks.

Simon lifts an eyebrow at him. "The same thing you are, David. I was invited, you know."

Dave grits his teeth. Of course Simon had been invited. Two months ago, when the invitations went out, the two of them had still been together. He can feel the rush of his hearbeat, pressure and sound, in his ears.

"Of course, people probably expected me to discreetly bow out. But I know you're a sensible adult, and you can surely overlook any discomfort while I give the happy couple my regards," Simon continues. And then he smiles. "It is good to see you. You're looking well, if a little...distracted."

Dave buys time to think by tossing back the rest of his drink. He crunches an icecube loudly. "Only by my empty glass," he says, raising it, trying for light and nonchalant.

Simon simply watches as Dave gets a refill. "That's far too good a brand for you to be using it as medication, David," he comments.

"Well. That's something, at least, that I got from our time together. Why go cheap, if you don't have to?" Dave doesn't smile as he says the words.

Simon, however, does smile. "And I used to think you ignored all my advice."

"I never ignored anything you ever said to me. Or anything you did, or anything about you, period," Dave says coldly. He wants to be done with this little interaction, because it's making him angry. "Are we done? Because if you're here for Mike and Carly, then you've got some good regards to be giving, or something." Dave keeps his eyes on Simon's, daring him to look away, and to the guy's credit, he doesn't. Never one to back down, or apologize for anything.

"You can't blame me for wanting to say hello."

"Sure I can." Dave notices he's burning through this drink way faster than he'd intended, and sets it on the bar, opening and closing his fingers, trying to dispel the bad energy. "I'm surprised you didn't bring a date." He smiles, and there's no pleasure in it. "Or maybe you've got some sweet young thing waiting for you in the presidential suite?"

"I'm here alone," Simon replies simply, and then the look on his face changes. His eyes gleam in the low light, and his voice drops into a darker timber. "What if I told you I did have a suite? With no one waiting? I do remember your tendency to get a bit...needy, after events like this."

In spite of himself, Dave feels his mouth go dry at the reminder. What Simon is saying, is that romantic traditions like weddings and New Year's Eve parties and things like that, tend to make Dave want to fuck until he can't walk. He fumbles again for his glass, and takes a loud swallow. "I'd tell you you picked a really nice place to spend the night alone," he replies, and turns to go, hoping against hope he has the nerve to not look back.

Carly and Mike are there, holding hands and looking concerned. Simon turns as well, and holds out his hands graciously to Carly. "Mrs. Johns, may I offer you my most sincere congratulations. You look radiant."

Carly chats guardedly with Simon, while Mike steps behind her and elbows Dave in the side. "Smooth limey motherfucker," he whispers. "You okay? You want me to throw him out?"

"Nah, I'm fine...it's nothing," Dave replies, and only just now realizes he was holding his breath. He lets it out quietly as Mike pats him on the shoulder. "Really."

"Alright, well...you're gonna have to convince Brooke and Syesha. I think they're plotting to beat Simon with a candelabra and lock him in the trunk of the limo," Mike finishes the last words out of the side of his mouth, as Carly steps aside to let Simon shake Mike's hand.

Dave looks towards the dance floor again, and sees Syesha dancing with David; she's talking animatedly. Well, shit, his secret is out, apparently. Dave feels a little uneasy as he wonders what David will think of the whole sordid, Syesha-version of his and Simon's ill-fated romance.

Then he decides. What the hell. He was already in the process of walking away from Simon...why not do this right? Why not do something he's been wanting to do?

Drink forgotten, Simon banished to the furthest, darkest corner of his brain for the moment, Dave walks purposefully out onto the dance floor, towards the swaying forms of one couple in particular.

*

For the longest time, David isn't sure what's happened.

There he'd been, standing by the band, sharing a loaded moment across the room with Dave Cook. David had been watching Michael and Carly's perfect first dance, sung by the wonderful torchy singer Carly and he had auditioned and loved; something had caught his attention, and there Dave had been, standing by the bar, half in shadow, his handsome face wearing a look of...David couldn't describe it, but it was kind of vulnerable and, and hopeful? Which was not a look David had seen him wear all night, but was immensely appealing.

And something had happened very suddenly, and Dave's eyes lost focus and his face had gone blank. He took a half-step back into the shadows of the bar, where all David could see was vague darkness, and David had experienced a couple of minutes of frustration where he'd debated walking over there to see what the heck was going on.

Mike and Carly's first dance over, the house lights come up and David's already starting across the room, when he sees the tall, older man from the photo by Dave's side. Of course, David recognizes Simon instantly, although he'd have been able to figure out who this is just from the way Dave's posture has gotten all stiff and formal.

Simon is leaning rangily against the bar, his elegant body entirely relaxed and turned towards Dave's. David would really prefer not to have to be here right now, so he backs away to his original position and does his best to pretend he's not watching them.

Because he isn't, not even when Mike and Carly finish dancing with their parents and walk over to the bar. Then Simon leans in close to Dave and whispers something to him, all calm and proprietorial, and David needs to be distracted from going over and, and doing something about it, so he grabs Syesha as she passes by and says, "Will you please dance with me?"

"Sure," Syesha says, a little surprised, allowing David to steer her out onto the dance floor. Then she stares over his shoulder at the direction of the bar: "Hey! Is that -?"

"Shhh!" David says fiercely. "Yes, I think so."

Syesha lowers her voice to an angry whisper as well. "How that man even has the nerve to come here, after what he did!"

David feels rather angry too; he also feels kind of sick. "I don't know," he whispers back. He keeps turned away from the bar, because he doesn't trust himself to watch what's happening, but he's not sure if it's better or worse, because Syesha can totally see them, and feels the need to give him the low-down on Dave and Simon: how they had this adversarial, tension-filled vibe from the very beginning, and how when they'd finally succumbed to the attraction, Dave went from cocky actor to pensive, unsure boyfriend, smitten with his director and struggling with the ways it forced him to second-guess himself. The classic dysfunctional, yet passionate relationship, it seemed. David nods, and listens, starting to reconcile the Dave Syesha is talking about, with the jaded, self-deprecating man he's known only since this afternoon.

Then, Syesha goes rigid with surprise, and kind of takes a step back away from him, pulling herself abruptly out of his arms. David is so surprised he lets her go.

"Syesha, what -?"

Her eyes are wide, she flaps an expressive finger over his shoulder, and suddenly, there's Dave Cook, broad and grim-faced, flinging himself into David's arms instead.

"Hey, there," Dave says, all faux casual, tension pouring off his body in waves. He wraps a warm arm across David's back. "Wanna dance?"

David's scrambling to catch up with events - it's hard to focus with Dave's mouth so close, right there - automatically, he reaches out and clasps Dave's hand in the same way he'd been clasping Syesha's, except it's all wrong, somehow, he's holding it out at an awkward angle, like it's someone's sword, and he's holding himself too stiffly and too far away from Dave as well.

And, oh gosh, Dave has kind of turned him so he now has an unobstructed view of the bar, and he sees the smirk on Simon's face.

Belatedly, he stammers, "Dance? With you?"

"Sure," says Dave, and forces a smile. He puts his mouth close to David's ear. "See, there's this guy over there, you might have figured who he is. I didn't think he'd come tonight, but clearly he's even more of an asshole than I thought. I thought you might be up for helping me make him jealous."

Ordinarily, David wouldn't be up for anything of the kind. He isn't a particularly good dancer, wouldn't know the first thing about making anyone jealous...but the smirk is really making his palms itch, and he takes a second to realize it comes from the desire to wipe that curl off of Simon's smug lips.

Very aware of Simon's eyes on them, David tries to shake off his self-consciousness and relax his other hand, which has landed on Dave's forearm. "What do you need me to do?" he murmurs.

"Just follow my lead," says Dave.

The music shifts into a slower tempo, which is the cue for the torch singer to slide into her strutting best Marvin Gaye.

I've been really tryin, baby
Tryin to hold back these feelings for so long

Dave's gaze is very intent, and very near to his. He lets David's stiff fingers go, cups the back of David's neck with one hand, and palms David's back with the other, reeling him in close.

And if you feel like I feel baby
Come on, oh come on...

"Relax," Dave says, low and gravelly in his ear, and David watches his own hands slide up Dave's arms to fasten behind Dave's broad neck, behind Dave's unraveled bow tie and loosened collar.

And just like that, despite the scenario with Simon, the pretense of making him jealous, nothing is awkward and arms' length any more: David's body aligns with the expanse of Dave's, and they're swaying as one to the insistent music.

Let's get it on
Let's get it on
Let's get it on
Let's get it on

David feels the tension coiling in Dave's body, hungry, strung out, shaking a little with something suppressed - not exactly anger - and, moving on pure instinct, he pushes in closer, kind of leans some of his weight on Dave's shoulders and draws Dave further towards him.

"How's this?" David asks softly.

Dave's still tense for another moment, two, and then he relaxes against David, the thrumming stress melting away. "It's good," he murmurs, a little thickly, and rests his big hand on David's neck.

We're all sensitive people
With so much love to give, understand me sugar
Since we got to be
Let's say, I love you

David knows this is just an act, that Dave is just doing this to ruffle Simon's feathers, but David has never felt as at ease dancing with anyone than he does now, in the circle of Dave's arms. David finds he's tilted his face to Dave's and is singing the words in Dave's ear.

He can see Dave's returning smile, and Dave's murmuring the words back to him:

There's nothin wrong with me
Lovin you---
And givin yourself to me can never be wrong
If the love is true

And it's as if they both realize what they're singing at the same time, and it's a cue to move still closer. Their bodies push up into each other even more tightly, their thighs slide against each other's. Dave's hand moves lower down David's back, with more intent, until it rests on David's hip.

Don't you know how sweet and wonderful, life can be
I'm askin you baby to get it on with me...

Dave is surprisingly light on his feet, shoulders squared to David's, the bulk of him hard against David - torso, thighs, something else hard as well. David feels a rush of heat all along his skin. He doesn't believe Dave's doing this in public, pinning David to him with hands and hips, setting up a grinding rhythm that echoes the insistent beat of the song, that's telegraphing his intentions to everyone watching them.

David doesn't believe he's going along with it, either, but it feels fantastic, and they're moving together sinuously, rocking against each other, shedding inhibitions and self-consciousness, nothing in the world except for the urgent sensation of each other's heat building under their clothes.

This is supposed to be an act, except that David's not sure anyone could fake this - Dave's intentions seem entirely genuine to David, pressed so close he can feel the pounding of Dave's heart against his own chest, can't mistake the hot sign of Dave's interest pushing against his thigh.

Out of the corner of his eye, David catches a glimpse of other people watching them - there's Brooke, mouth open in surprise, Kristy Lee's frank stare. And Simon's sardonic face is wearing a scowl that's black as thunder.

David shouldn't revel in the sharp stab of victory, but it fills him from stem to stern and feels very, very satisfying.

David's breathing harder than he should be. He leans his face into Dave's shoulder, nose turned toward Dave's throat, bare under the loosened shirt collar; he feels the roughness of Dave's scruffy cheek brush against his forehead.

I ain't gonna worry, I ain't gonna push
So come on, come on, come on, come on baby
Stop beatin round the bush....

Dave's breath is coming fast, too; his arms tighten around David. His hand slides from the back of David's neck to cup David's jaw.

"Come on," murmurs Dave, softly, echoing the song, and runs a thumb over David's chin, tilting his head up.

Let's get it on
Let's get it on
Let's get it on

The music surrounding them, David's eyes close of their own accord. Dave's thumb is callused against his skin - he's shaking, he's never wanted anything more in his life; he lifts his mouth to Dave's -

- and then there's the loud, discordant sound of glass breaking.

David's eyes jerk open, in time to see Simon flinging a tray on the floor as well. It joins a pile of shattered wineglasses at the end of the bar. In the stillness, Simon turns deliberately on his heel and stalks out of the ballroom.

David belatedly realizes that Simon's calculated little display has made the music stop, has frozen him to the floor. Realizes that Dave has stopped dancing as well. And when he looks up at Dave again, he's shocked to see the look of shame and dismay that's filled Dave's face.

"Oh, God," Dave says, and then, "David, I'm so sorry," and, abruptly, he lets David go.

Dave takes a step backwards, rubbing the back of his neck, and another, then he's turned and followed Simon out of the room, leaving David standing there in the middle of the dance floor, trembling with arousal and now suddenly sick to his stomach.

*

Dave feels the blood pounding in his ears; he's not thinking clearly, isn't sure why he's running down a corridor in the Roosevelt Hotel after the bastard who broke his heart.

He has no idea what possessed him to try to make Simon jealous, even less idea why he'd chosen to do it by groping Archuleta on the dance floor. That plan had been successful beyond his wildest expectations - it had gotten seriously hot with David, more quickly than he'd anticipated, and they'd actually managed to make Simon break a couple of glasses and storm out of the room.

For some reason, he'd chosen to rush after Simon, leaving David on the dance floor by himself. Part of him feels as if he's still there, holding David in his arms, tilting David's face to his...

...and the rest of him is here, in infinitely more unpleasant surroundings, as Simon finally stops and turns around almost glacially.

"Very nice, David," Simon says calmly; there's no longer any trace of the glassware-breaking rage in his face. "Very theatrical. Standout performance, you had me completely sold."

Dave leans against the wall and struggles to keep his voice steady. "I should be saying the same about you," he manages. "That was some exit."

Simon waves an impatient hand. "I thought it was the response you wanted. It seemed apropos, after that little display."

Dave bites back a crude response; Simon always had the ability to make him feel like an unmannered delinquent. In any case, there had been no mistaking the flash of genuine hurt and anger in Simon's eyes.

"Maybe I shouldn't have done that," Dave says, surprising himself with his honesty. "I'm sorry. You kind of had it coming, though, showing up like this."

Simon raises his eyebrows. "So you're admitting that you're having some difficulty with my being here? Enough to stage a little charade with that bit of fluff?"

And this was why it was never wise to show vulnerability to Simon. He'd make you feel you had to be mature, showed you just enough to make you feel you could reach him, then he pulled the rug out from under you. Dave ought to have remembered; he should have brought his Velma Kelly pistol, too, nobody'd blame him if he used it now.

"David was kind enough to help me out when I needed the help," Dave says, his voice sounding more venomous than he'd hoped it would be. "I'd appreciate it if you were more polite about him."

Simon leans towards Dave, and leers quietly in the way that Dave really detests. "Actually, I do appreciate him," he says. "The boy is delicious. I can see the attraction for you."

Dave shrugs. "You know, you really don't get to say things like that to me anymore. Who I like doesn't have anything to do with you."

Simon smiles, casual and at the same time strangely predatory. "Oh, I know you're glad you don't have to deal with me any longer." He leans in closer. "The question is, is he ready to deal with you? After all, we know how fickle theater folk are. Another show, another love interest, a lad in every port..."

Dave feels the flush start, the heat prickling along his skin. Simon's standing entirely too close; it's been six weeks, but Dave still remembers the last time he was in Simon's bed.

"I'm not like that. I'm not like you."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Simon murmurs. "Can you really be sure you won't let young David down? I know you, Dave Cook. You're more like me than you'd like to think." He pauses, and again, his voice shifts to that dark tone. "You know, my offer of a suite still stands."

Dave swallows with an effort. Seven months with this seductive, powerful man, and he'd lost sight of himself, and in his presence again, part of Dave feels the old, magnetic pull. Then he focuses - on the unreliability, the infidelity, and, in contrast, on the generosity he'd found in the eyes of a stranger today. Not so much a stranger, now, after a couple of speeches, and that one dance. Not a stranger at all, in fact.

"If you think that, you don't know me at all," he says, more hotly than he'd hoped, but whatever. "And I didn't like the person I was when I was with you. This time around, I'm going to try to do something right for a change."

As Dave says this, he feels that David Archuleta might be something that would be right for him. And it fills him, for the first time in weeks, with optimism, with something like hope.

Simon's eyes narrow; clearly, he sees it too. His mouth quirks, and for an instant, his cold face twists with a sadness that Dave has never seen before.

Then he shakes his head, and his wry, sardonic mask is back in place. "Well, I can see you feel very strongly," he says. "Good luck with all that, then."

He leans in, and kisses Dave on the cheek; Dave has to close his eyes briefly. "You're not supposed to say that," Dave murmurs: it's actually bad luck, as per the old theater tradition.

Simon smiles, and Dave knows he fully intended the dubious wishes tradition dicates. Dave's grateful at the reminder of how petty Simon can be, because it makes this farewell that much easier.

"Break a leg, David," Simon amends, still smiling.

Dave says, "Take care of yourself," and watches as his ex-boyfriend makes his final exit from the Roosevelt.

The fast walk back to the ballroom is one of the longer ones Dave's ever made, not least because he goes past the doorway three or four times, rubbing a hand through his already fucked-beyond-recognition hair, and trying to reconcile what he just did, and what he just heard. And at the same time come up with something to say to David that isn't going to make him sound like a complete dick.

When he finally screws his courage up enough to open the heavy, paneled doors and let the music wash over him, his eyes search the room. Finally, a flash of white helps him locate David. Who is dancing with Carly, looking down and nodding as she talks to him. No doubt she's reassuring him that Dave is, indeed, an asshole, and to just forget about his drunken shenanigans.

It's going to be the second Archuleta dance of the night that he has had to cut in on. Dave takes a deep breath, and goes in.

He's stopped by a hand on his arm. It's Mike, looking concerned, and a little wary. "You sure you know what you're doing, mate? Might be better if you just left it, at this point."

Dave appreciates the sentiment, and, yeah, maybe Mike is right. But he's never been one to see discretion as the better part of valor. He pats Mike's hand, wordlessly thanking him for his thoughtfulness, and keeps walking out onto the dance floor.

***

9:45 pm

"Look, Carly. I know it was just for show, okay? It's not a big deal. Simon's a jerk, and I'm glad I got to help Dave make him mad. That's all there is to it, okay?" David says yet another variation of what he's been telling Carly for the last few minutes. Pretty soon, maybe even he's going to start believing it. Because, of course it didn't feel all that good to be in Dave's arms like that, to feel the boozy heat of Dave's breath against his ear, singing about...yeah, sex, he can think it, it's okay, he's an adult. It's okay.

"I'm trying not to make a big deal out of it, sweetie...it just seems like you were, you know...into him. And you guys were hitting it off, and then to have him act like that...it's just so not cool. I'm going to give him a piece of my mind when I see him again, believe me!"

"Oh, umm...don't, okay?" David looks over Carly's shoulder at Dave, approaching them purposefully, with Mike in tow.

Carly turns to look, and her dark eyes sparkle menacingly. "Alright, Don Juan de Moron, what was that all about?" she snaps at Dave. "You know, the last thing I'd have expected you to pick up from Simon was being that self-centered. Or did you not care that..."

She stops abruptly, as Mike puts a hand on her arm. "David, I think I'd like to dance with my wife for a bit," he says. A look passes between them, and then she lets Mike draw her away into an embrace, and twirl her several yards away. At that point, the movement of their heads makes is clear they're having the first disagreement of their married life.

David realizes he is just standing there, motionless, in front of Dave. He sticks his hands in his pockets. "I'm sorry, but I kind of don't feel like dancing anymore. If...if that's what you were going to ask me." He closes his eyes momentarily at the slip. It's very possible Dave has returned to tell him he's reconciled with his ex, and he's leaving, and...

"That's okay, I don't blame you," Dave replies. He looks a little awkward standing there in the twinkling lights of the dance floor. "You think we might talk for a bit? Like, away from here, somewhere?"

Oh, boy, here it comes. David is pretty sure he doesn't want to hear whatever it is Dave has to say, but he nods anyhow. "Sure."

He lets Dave squire him off the dance floor with a hand at his back, steering him until they reach a counter at the end of the ballroom. He watches as Dave fishes out his wallet, peels off a couple of bills, and hands them to the coat-check girl. "Give us the room for a few minutes, okay?"

She's quick to take the money and disappear. Dave pulls David into the dimly lit recesses of the room, until they are surrounded by a variety of jackets and wraps.

"About what happened earlier," Dave begins. His voice sounds exceptionally quiet, the sound eaten up by the racks of coats, and he clears his throat and starts over. "When we were dancing?"

"I remember," David replies. They are a little too close for his comfort, at the moment, and he backs up a step and crosses his arms on his chest. "The whole 'help-you-make-your-ex-jealous' thing. It worked, right?"

Dave looks down, and rubs the back of his hand thoughtfully across his chin. It looks like he's thinking, trying to make a collection of not-so-nice words come out right. "Something like that. Pissed him off, it seems, and yeah, that's what I was going for. I shouldn't have...I shouldn't have dragged you into it, though. That wasn't cool. And I'm sorry."

Well. So Dave is sorry it happened; sorry they danced and that things got all hot and intense and out-of-control. David mentally kicks himself for having misread Dave's signals the entire night. Apparently the guy just gets touchy-feely and affectionate when he's drunk. David feels hurt; he's more than hurt. He feels disappointed and not a little betrayed, and utterly stupid for feeling those things about someone who apparently didn't like him all that much to begin with. Dave Cook, actor extraordinaire. David's pretty sure he's never wanted to punch anyone in his life before, but, right now, he would like to deck Dave, so much that his fingers itch.

But, as he has the entire day, he reminds himself that this is Carly's night, and no way is he going to have anything to do with making it anything less than perfect. So that means taking the high road. "It's all right," he replies graciously. "I'm glad things worked out for you."

Dave's brow furrows at this, as though he's puzzled by a response he wasn't expecting. "I'm not sure...I mean, I'm not happy with how things worked out, really. I feel like an ass for dragging you into it, and then Simon ended up being kind of decent about it, and..."

"I told you, it's okay," David interrupts, louder this time, so that the coats don't eat his response. "You don't have to explain." He backs up again as Dave takes a step toward him, trying to come up with something to say that will just get him out of the room. "I think they're...that's the song Carly picked for the garter toss, and I kind of have to get out there, I said I'd..."

"It's not okay!" Dave replies, even more loudly. "I'm trying to tell you I'm sorry I ruined what was like, an amazing moment, with you. It wasn't worth it, what happened with Simon. He could have burst into flames on the spot, and it still wouldn't have been worth leaving you on the dance floor. I loved how that felt...I haven't felt like that in...shit, I have no idea how long! Maybe never! You with your organizing things, and your wrangling musicians and taking care of stuff - " Dave is getting closer, and David keeps backing up, until he comes to a stop against the coatroom counter. "And tying my tie and trying to make me not be drunk, and your amazing speech, and your mouth..." At this, Dave stops walking, because he's right up against David, who can't back up any further. "Your irresistable mouth," he whispers, bending down, and David can't move, in spite of how hurt he still feels. He tilts his chin up, and feels callused fingers slide against his jaw, and closes his eyes as he feels warm lips touch his own.

It's more tentative than David would have expected, after they'd already almost been dry-humping each other on the dance floor. Dave's mouth doesn't ask for more than just contact. But David gives him more anyhow, he yields to the lush pressure, and opens his mouth, and makes a soft sound when he feels Dave's tongue slide past his lips. Before long David's ears are ringing, and his heart is hammering in his chest, and he has to put his hands on Dave's shoulders just to stay standing. Dave presses him harder against the counter, and David feels like this is perhaps the best apology he's ever received, and he wants it to go on forever, and he wants more...

Somehow, the funky strains of You Sexy Thing seem to fit what they're doing, but it also registers to David that the garter toss is about to happen, and he's supposed to be elsewhere. The thought that Carly probably does not really need him now makes a quick stop in his lust-hazed brain before he virtuously dismisses it. "The garter," he gasps, pulling away so quickly that a thread of saliva stretches between their lips and catches the light. "We...I...promised I'd be there, for that...thing. Toss-thing."

It takes Dave a moment to let go of David's lapel. He looks like he's trying to decide if he shouldn't convince David to forget the garter-toss, and the rest of this whole wedding. But then he also manfully remembers his responsibilities as a groomsman. "Right. Garter. We should go."

David nods, and takes a moment to adjust his jacket, and well, yeah, his pants need some attention too. And there's nothing to be done about the fact that he's flushed red, with messy hair and swollen lips.

Dave even has the forethought to walk several yards behind him as he slips back into the ballroom, and sees Carly seated in a chair on the dance floor, with Mike hamming it up on his knees in front of her, pretending to act shy about lifting her skirts.

The gathered crowds are hooting and hollering, Jason whispering something strategic in Mike's ear. Kristy Lee is smirking radiantly for once, her arms full of flowers, having obviously caught Carly's bridal bouquet.

"I'm not used to lifting your skirts in front of so many people, honey, I'm sorry!"

"That didn't stop you at last month's cast party!" shouts Syesha, and one of the crew yells, "C'mon, Mike, show us what your're made of!"

"It's different now we're married, I don't want you guys starin' at my wife!"

"C'mon, boyo, just do it already," Carly grins, skimming her fingers over his dark head.

Mike says, "As Milady desires," and dives under her skirts with a flourish, and her giggle becomes a breathy little gasp as he does something under there. David, already primed for intimacy after his encounter in the cloakroom with Dave Cook, feels his cheeks flush as Carly bites her lip. It takes her an imperceptible second to regain her composure, but in that instant David can see how utterly in love with her husband she is, and how much she's looking forward to making him do this at more length, and without an audience.

Mike hovers for a tantalizing moment more, letting the hooting build, and then he surfaces for air, his hair standing on end, grinning his rakish grin, the satin garter between his teeth. He takes the garter from his mouth and makes an elaborate bow to his wife and the crowd.

"And now..." Mike looks around the room meaningfully. "I'm told that it's the custom to throw this thing at the single guys here. C'mon, fellows, one straight line. You know this bit of silk has been on my wife's thigh all night, it's gotta be a sex magnet, a lucky sex charm, am I right?"

There's a rush of bodies to front and center. David gets to his feet, a little unwillingly - he's not that comfortable, jostling with other guys to try to catch Carly's garter, but he did promise her he'd be there. Someone larger than him pushes past him abruptly; David would have been shoved off balance, but for a warm hand at his elbow, steadying him. He doesn't have to look up to know it's Dave, and the thought makes him warm. They walk to the front of the room together, and stand shoulder to shoulder in the press as "You Sexy Thing" fades away.

Mike turns around and strikes a pose, razzle-dazzle style. The guys catcall, and he tosses Carly's garter in the air over his head, into the assembled line of guests and groomsmen.

David sees the scrap of silk sail directly towards them - there's a flash of arms above him, belonging to taller people -

- and he's not surprised at all to see it's Dave Cook that has the garter held triumphantly aloft.

The cheering starts again. Dave turns to him, his wide grin of victory becoming a little more complex, more crooked, and he runs his free hand through his mussed-up hair. Natalie Merchant's boozy, bluesy voice fills the room, her jazzy version of "One Fine Day", and Dave and David and all the guests in the room look at the silk and lace in Dave's hand.

One fine day, you'll look at me,
And you'll know our love was meant to be...

Dave looks at David, his eyes open and asking, and slowly, he starts to stretch out his hand.

And then someone jostles him from behind, and the hand with the garter is passing him by. "C'mon, Cook!" someone yells. "You're supposed to slide that thing on the chick that caught the bouquet! All the way up her pretty thigh!" There's more catcalling, and Kristy Lee is there, holding the bouquet like it has offended her somehow.

David plasters a smile over the disappointment on his face. Well, of course, that was stupid, thinking Dave was about to give the garter to him. He backs up, and crosses his arms as Dave looks quizzically at him for a moment. Then he catches on, somewhat reluctantly, and turns to Kristy Lee so they can properly observe yet another wedding tradition. "Aw, come on, baby, don't look at me like that. Isn't the first time I've been between your legs." The words have a hard edge to them, for all that Dave is smiling, twirling the garter on his finger.

"Drunken Twister doesn't count, asshole," Kristy hisses through her perfect, capped teeth. She lets someone push the chair Carly has vacated over to her. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

The verses of One Fine Day sound kind of dissonant to David as he watches Dave kneel down in front of Kristy Lee. She puts a foot on his knee as though planning to give him a hard shove backward. As he takes hold of her calf, and loops the garter over her foot, she leans forward and says something in his ear that narrows his eyes, and he halts, listening.

***

10:15 pm

"Saw you with Simon earlier. Knew you didn't have it in you to let that go. Hurry up so I can go collect my twenty bucks from Syesha and Jason. I told them you're still Simon's boy, all the way." Kristy's teeth glint, even in the low light. Dave doesn't bother to wonder why she seems to take such joy in other people's discomfort...it's just how she is. And he's totally not playing into her hand.

He sits back on his heels, and looks into her smirking face. "Hate to tell you this, Kris, but you're the one who has to pay up. Not that it's any of your business, but Simon left." He feels a thrill of satisfaction at her shocked expression, and holds up the garter. "And there's someone else I'd much rather give this to than you."

So as not to completely humiliate her and make a scene, he takes hold of her perfectly manicured hand and gives it a careless kiss before helping her to her feet. She's still staring at him, open-mouthed, as the music comes to a halt.

Someone hands him a microphone for the second time that night. This time, though, he knows exactly what to say.

"They say it's bad luck to give one of these to the wrong person," he says, holding up the garter, as Kristy Lee flounces out of the spotlight. "And I'm not making a 'wrong person' mistake tonight." He stops, because the next words get kind of stuck. He takes a deep breath, and turns off the mic. "David?" he calls across the room, to the man he can't really see at the edge of the dance floor. You could hear a pin drop in the ballroom, everyone is so silent, and his voice carries effortlessly.

There is some shuffling as wedding guests move to make room for David to come forward. He does it tentatively, as though he's a little worried about what's about to happen. By the time he stops in front of Dave, he seems to have no idea that he's clenching and unclenching his hands, over and over.

Dave knows he's given David cause for apprehension, and he suddenly wishes they were somewhere more private. Anywhere, really. But, he's already set this in motion, so he needs to finish it. He needs David to know what he really and truly wants.

He holds up the garter. "I'm thinking the chair-thing would be a little much in this situation, so...here..." he takes David's hand and gently unfolds the tense, cold fingers before sliding the garter carefully up the sleeve of David's jacket, settling it below his elbow. "I want to give this a chance," he says quietly, leaning forward so he doesn't have to share the words with the engrossed spectators. "Like you said in your speech. I already know you'd be good for me. Let me try to be good for you. Please. Give me a chance."

As David looks at the ribbony scrap of blue on his sleeve and smiles a little. Then, eyes unreadable, he reaches up and snags the end of Dave's permanently-undone bowtie. "You sure you're not just looking for someone to help keep your clothes in order?"

Dave shakes his head, and closes his hand around David's and tugs the tie off. "I'm sure. And I'll probably be wanting to make sure you keep my clothes in complete disorder, for several hours, at least," he whispers into David's ear.

"Oh, my gosh, shut up and dance with me already!"

There's music, the opening chords of some song that seems not quite right for slow dancing, and a smattering of murmurs around them as they move within the small circle of sparkling light. Dave wishes, suddenly, that he'd done this a little less publicly. Maybe to give David a way out, if he wanted it, because he really hasn't given Dave an answer, yet.

"You know," he says, leaning down to speak into David's ear. "If it's not really something you want, you can say no. I didn't mean to put you up to that in front of everyone." Dave gets no answer to this, and they sway in silence for a moment. "I probably haven't given you the best impression of myself, tonight..." The lyrics of the poppy 80's tune cut across his words.

If you leave, don't leave now,
please don't take my heart away...

Okay, well that's just fantastic. Who the fuck picked that song, anyhow?

Promise me just one more night, then we'll go our separate ways... Dave doesn't know what to say, and they dance in silence for a few measures.

"I think Mike and Carly are getting ready to leave," David replies, taking his hand off Dave's shoulder long enough to point towards the procession gathering at the end of the ballroom. "Maybe we should..."

"See them off. You're right," Dave replies, and he lets David out of his arms long enough to snag one of the younger bridesmaids who is walking around with a basket. Dave grabs a nerveless handful of whatever's in it, and follows David and the rest of the guests out to wait for the happy couple to make their grand exit.

If you leave, I won't cry, I won't waste one single day.... Well, apparently he's got his answer. Tonight has been about putting a good face on things, so he'll just keep doing that. And then he'll go back inside, snag a bottle from the bartender, and go drink himself into oblivion. ...don't look back, I'll be runnin' the other way...

Outside, arrayed on the front steps of the Roosevelt, the wedding guests make up a riot of color and sound, sound that swells to a cheering crescendo as Mike and Carly appear. Dave can't help but smile at the way Mike tries to shield Carly from the pelting of flowers, and then grabs a rose and holds it in his teeth as they run the festive gauntlet. Some well-wishers have chosen bubbles instead, and the perfect, iridescent spheres float away into the brightly lit night sky like unfulfilled wishes for the future. Dave reaches out to touch one, and it settles on his fingertip for just an instant before it disappears. The honking of horns sounds very, very far away.

Dave turns to go back up steps littered with a glittering, fragrant collage of flower petals and confetti. The doorman tips his hat as he opens the door, and Dave nods at him.

"Hey! Where are you going?" Dave feels like he's moving in slow motion as he turns his head towards the voice.

David Archuleta is a few steps down, still holding his heart-shaped bubble wand. He smiles expectantly, and Dave's stomach twists a little.

"Figured I'd go back in and close down the bar, make a night of it." Dave smiles, as though it doesn't really matter. He tells himself it doesn't. "You?"

David shakes his head, but walks up the steps towards Dave. "I don't really feel like staying, now that Mike and Carly are gone. You know?" He reaches up and brushes confetti off Dave's lapel. "You wanna, maybe..." he bites his lip before continuing. "Go for a drive, or something? I mean...I'll drive, it's probably safer that way. The view from Mulholland is pretty spectacular this time of night. Or we could even drive to the Hollywood Bowl."

Dave just stares at him, kind of stupidly, because he wonders if he's hearing things right.

David continues. "I mean...if you don't want to, that's okay, too...I just thought, you know. Let's try this, like you said. Alone, somewhere...anywhere?" He stops, uncertainly, frowning at the look on Dave's face. "But, um, if you - "

Dave cuts him off by kissing him.

A few of the drunken revelers still on the sidewalk offer their appreciative opinions, and a few more cars honk.

Dave pulls away reluctantly and nods. David's face is flushed and luminous under the hotel lights; the way Dave feels now, he'd let David drive him to the ends of the earth.

"A drive sounds good. Anywhere. Let's go."

And they walk hand-in-hand, back down the steps.

The doorman picks up the limp bowtie that lies discarded on the ground after the two men leave, and starts to call out. Then he thinks better of it, smiles, and just shakes his head. Weddings.

The End