FIC: From This Day Forward (Part 1)
Title: From This Day Forward
Authors: frackin_sweet and jehane18
Fandom: AI S7
Pairing:David Cook/David Archuleta; Michael Johns/Carly Smithson
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.
EDIT: Check out the lovely invitation, soundtrack, and other goodies
made for us by the generous and awesome celtic-cookie!!
3pm
He's supposed to be inside the church already. After three texts from Johns, he's still sitting in his car, in his already-rumpled tux, tie undone, nursing the flask full of Jameson. What the hell, he won't be the first best man ever to reek of whiskey. It's kind of an Irish thing. Certainly Carly won't mind.
David Cook looks down at his phone, buzzing and lighting up on the seat. Another text. He reads it.
WHERE THE F R U???? Mike is apparently starting to lose a little of his famous cool.
Dave has already had enough to affect his judgment a little. cant find the ring he replies.
Upon receipt of this bit of news, the phone rings. "I will kill you." Mike says without preamble. "No. Carly will kill you. I'll have you revived, and kill you again!"
"Relax, man. Kidding. I'm in the parking lot. I've got the ring, I'm good to go," Dave replies, trying for a soothing tone. He ruins it by taking another swallow of whiskey in the middle of this reassurance.
Mike doesn't miss the telltale sound. "Dave, you know I don't care what you do, right? But if you're wasted, I'm telling you..."
Dave reluctantly caps the flask and tucks it away. "I know, you'll kill me. I'm not."
"Look, I know, okay? Sucks to have to do this wedding thing so soon after you and Simon..."
Dave interrupts immediately. "It doesn't suck. There's nowhere I'd rather be than standing up for you and Carly, Mike. I love you guys."
"Right, mate, I know. Now get in here before Brooke comes out and hauls you in by your ass!"
Dave pushes away the wave of melancholy. "I'd like to see her try. Comin' in." He hangs up, stashes the flask in his jacket, and leaves his car to go inside.
Holy Angels Church's bell tower rises majestically into the blue Los Angeles sky, and the gothic stonework seems to belong to much older, more sacred place. Brooke greets him inside the door, all silken skirts and trailing blond locks. The angelic looks stops at her mouth, which is frowning at him. "Please tell me you didn't sleep in the tux," she says.
"I didn't sleep in the tux," he replies dutifully, and submits to her ministrations as she attends to his cufflinks. It's good, because they're a little bit beyond him. "You look gorgeous, Brooke," he tells her, truthfully.
"And you look like hell," she replies, also truthfully, touching his face briefly before returning to his cuffs. "Have you even slept?"
Has he? Since the night he showed up at Simon's penthouse, and found his older lover in bed with someone else? Not much. Not unless he's drunken himself into a stupor first. "A little," he says. "I'm fine, Brooke, really. Need people to stop asking me if I'm okay. Okay?"
She's moved on to his tie. "Okay," she says quietly. "You know, I'm not good at these, maybe..."
"I'll do up that loser's tie," says a deep voice behind them. Dave turns to see Michael Johns, looking like Hugh Jackman decided to be James Bond for a day. Minus the gun, of course. "If I do it, can I go in and see her?" Mike asks Brooke.
"No, Michael. Absolutely not. Stop asking me." Brooke gives them both a schoolmarmy-chastising look. "You know it's bad luck." With that, turns on her heel and disappears down a hallway, leaving Dave in Michael's care.
Dave just looks at his friend for a moment, and then pulls out the flask.
"Oh, thank all that's holy," Mike says reverently, and takes a long pull. "I'm really starting to lose it. Carly's freaking out; something happened with the musicians, the flowers are late, and she can't get ahold of her one friend who's supposed to be managing all that."
Dave grins. "Sounds like a typical wedding to me." When Mike tries to hand back the flask, he shakes his head. "Have another. You need it more than I do."
"Probably," Mike nods, but he stops before taking another drink. "You sure you're okay?"
"Look. Let's get something straight." Dave takes a deep breath. Time to nip all this pitying-of-him in the bud. "Did I catch my boyfriend cheating on me, in our bed, with a hot girl? Yes. Did this really suck balls? Yes. Did you guys all tell me it was a bad idea to ever date him in the first place? Hell yes. Did I listen? Hell no. And am I glad you're not saying 'I told you so'? Yes."
Mike is just looking at him, a little sadly, as he finishes up this monologue. "Nobody ever wanted to say that. Only wanted you to be happy. It sucks."
"It does," Dave agreed. "But for now, I'm not thinking about it. Two of my very best friends are getting married today, and that's all that matters." He has to swallow hard as Mike pulls him into a fierce hug.
When Mike lets go, he clears his throat. "And now I've got a speech to go write. Go do something...groomly, or something, okay?" Mike nods and hurries off, as a delivery truck finally arrives, laden with the missing flowers.
Dave finds an unoccupied church classroom, and squeezes into one of the catechism desks. He pulls out the notepad on which he'd started his best man's speech, late the previous night.
Some people say love is a many-splendoured thing, it begins.
Someone I loved used to say that...
Someone who treats love like a knife he'll plunge into your gut the moment you let your guard down...
He crumples up the paper and tosses it at the wastebasket. Then he pulls out the flask, and starts over.
*
"No, you're not understanding me. I need the plain set of goblets gift-wrapped. The engraved set I'm taking with me, because they need them for the reception." David Archuleta is trying not to let his frustration at the Macy's cashier get the best of him.
Because really, it's his own fault that he forgot Carly and Mike's wedding gift until this very moment. He'd been so caught up in fielding all the other little details Carly needed, that shopping fell by the wayside. So did getting a date for the wedding. He didn't really like the idea of going alone, but at least it would let him focus more on taking care of things for Carly.
He feels his phone buzz; another text. "And...I'm sorry, you've been very helpful, but would you please hurry? I'm so late, as it is." He looks down at his iPhone, and the screen practically wails at him. OMG WHERE R U???????
On my way dont wry! he quickly types in reply. Fortunately the gift-wrappers are dexterous and quick, and he's out of the store with his parcels in record time.
The traffic on the one-ten is terrible, as usual, but David skips his usual safe-driver rules and speeds. In the carpool lane, no less. He gets the bird from people so often he actually stops cringing when it happens.
He pulls into the church lot with a squeal of tires that his little hybrid has never experienced before, and practically runs inside to find Mike trying to wrangle the florists. "It's okay, I've got this," he reassures the wild-eyed groom-to-be. Mike has never looked so relieved in his life as he relinquishes the situation to David.
"Okay. The big arrangement with the long-stemmed roses and the votive candles goes in the front of the church. The candelabra arrangements go on either side of the altar, and the little round bouquets go on the ends of the pews. Leave the boutonnieres in the vestry, and I'll take the girls' flowers with me." He grabs the handcart with its crates of fragrant blooms, all tied up in ribbons. "Oh, and here," he pulls an envelope out of a pocket. "Tip's included."
It isn't hard to find the ladies' dressing room; he follows the scent of perfume and hair product. "Knock knock, everybody decent?" he calls against the closed door.
A slender, braceleted arm snakes out and grabs him. "Gosh, hold on!" he gasps as it almost yanks him through the small opening. "I've got the flowers with me, and the toasting glasses!"
Syesha pokes her head out, doe-like eyes apologetic. "Oops, sorry!"
"Who is that?" David can hear Carly call out from inside the room. "If it's not David, I'm going to cry. Again. My eyeliner is history."
"Honey, it's him, it's him! Don't mess up your eyeliner again!" Syesha replies, holding the door for David and his cargo. The girls quickly take charge of distributing the flowers, freeing him to go over to Carly, seated at a lighted makeup table, a dressing gown thrown carelessly over her bridal lingerie.
Carly's sister Shannon is taking Carly's hair out of huge rollers, but after a quick smile for David, she steps aside so he can slide in next to Carly with the box of engraved toasting goblets. "These turned out beautifully," he whispers in her ear, leaning down to give her a hug. "Not as beautiful as you, though."
Carly makes an unladylike snort, and goes for another tissue to dab at her eyes. "Oh, you're just saying that. I'm a mess! I'm freaking out about every little thing! The flowers..."
"Are here now, so don't worry," David soothes.
"And the musicians, like, the cellist's visa got revoked or something, so the string quartet has no cellist! Someone needs to call the Czech embassy! And oh, my God, Mike keeps trying to sneak in here, and I'm gonna kill him if he sees me..."
"So am I!" Syesha and Kristy say simultaneously.
"Right? And Cook never showed up, and he's the best man..."
"No, he's here. Off working on his speech right now," Brooke reassures her from her other side. Over Carly's half-curlered head, she gives David a look and mouths He's already kinda drunk.
David spares a moment of worry for the drunken best man. He's never met the guy, but that sounds like a potential problem. He continues patting Carly's arm, not quite sure what to say, other than, "It's okay, it's gonna be okay."
"And...and..." She hiccups, and Brooke dives for the tissues when she sees Carly's eyes redden again. "Something blue. I totally don't have something blue!"
"Oh!" At this Brooke shoves the tissues at David, who realizes it's his turn on eyeliner-protection duty. He holds them warily, as if Carly's about to launch tears like a squirt gun. "I almost forgot!"
Brooke bends down below the table and comes back up with a white shoebox. "Your something blue, sweetheart. You can thank me and Ebay later."
Carly takes the top off the box, and suddenly David has to go into defensive mode with the tissues, because she's crying again, over the baby-blue-soled white satin Louboutin pumps. "Oh, Brooke! They haven't even made these for years! How did you...?"
"Never mind that, quit crying already!" Brooke pets her, and grabs more tissues.
David smiles at her as she helps preserve Carly's eye makeup. "Those are perfect," he says.
Brooke's eyes are shiny too, suddenly. "Nothing but the best for you, today," she says, pressing her lips to the top of Carly's head, amidst the curlers. "David. Do you want to try to handle the cellist thing? That sounds like it might be your department."
Ok, a missing cellist is one thing. But the Czech embassy? "I'm on it!" he declares, and grabs his phone as he heads for the door of the dressing room.
As he opens it, he runs smack into Mike, who is being unsuccessfully restrained by a broad-shouldered guy with undone French cuffs and an untied bow tie.
"Mike! You wanna cause like, twelve years bad luck or something?" the guy cajoles, as Mike replies, "That's for breaking a mirror! I just wanna see my fiancee for a damn minute!"
David wrinkles his nose. They both smell a little bit like booze. He has a feeling this is the best man, and that perhaps he's not the best man for the job, at the moment. "Mike. Carly is fine, but she needs to finish getting ready," he says reasonably, placing his hands firmly against Mike's neat lapels.
Mike tries to dodge him, but David has given the other guy a chance to get a grip on Mike's arm again, and put another hand over his eyes. "Seriously, man. You'll thank us later." Together, David and the disheveled guy push and pull Mike carefully out of the room, to the sound of more threats from the bridesmaids.
"Um...are you the best man?" David asks his partner in Mike-wrangling, as they escort the nervous groom down the hall to the vestry. Don't people usually shave before a wedding?
The guy nods, and almost as if he's heard David's thoughts, rubs his chin self-consciously. "Dave Cook," he says. "But I don't know if I qualify for best anything, right now." With a wry smile, he offers his hand behind Mike's back.
David takes it, and does his best to return the firm, warm grip. "David Archuleta," he replies. "I'm, um...Carly's friend. Well, Mike's too. But yeah." He has to clear his throat, and then points to a door. "We should probably get you guys your flowers."
Inside the vestry, David quickly affixes the boutonniere to Mike's lapel, and then moves on to Dave. "Um, keep an eye on Mike, okay?" he whispers, leaning close. He has to slide a hand underneath the jacket to keep from sticking Dave with the pin, because for some reason, his fingers are a little unsteady, all of a sudden. And it's kind of warm in the room.
Dave nods, very close to David's ear; close enough that the aforenoticed stubble brushes his skin. "Don't worry, I won't let him get away," he replies, equally softly.
David's not sure what kind of alcohol that is on Dave's breath, but it's kind of strong. Not unpleasant, though, strangely enough. When he pulls back, he reaches into a pocket. "Um...gum?"
"Oh. Sure," Dave replies, and takes a stick.
David can't help but watch as he puts it in his mouth. Gum has possibly never been so fascinating before.
"...can finish it later, so, I'll keep an eye on Mike..." Dave is saying, when David realizes he's speaking again.
"Right, um, cool, thanks," he replies, and turns to hide his blush. Fortunately, right then he gets an idea. He pulls out his phone and dials 411. "Los Angeles Conservatory of Music," he says, when the operator asks for his request.
He's got a cellist to replace.
*
Dave surreptitiously listens as David carries on a conversation with a Dr. someone at the LACoM. He gets the impression that perhaps David is, or was a student there, or that he has worked with this person before, as David seemingly rejects several suggestions before taking one and then calling the number. He watches as David talks, and paces, asking the unseen musician if she's proficient with Bach, and Pachelbel, and Vivaldi, if she's really as good on the cello as she is on the viola, if she has a black cocktail dress, and if she's available immediately. Apparently the answers are all affirmative, and David hangs up and gives a little double-fisted victory gesture.
"Take that, Department of Homeland Security! Oh...I mean, haha. That was..." David's exultant expression falters a bit when he sees Dave looking at him, one eyebrow raised. "Looks like we don't need to get the cellist's visa renewed after all."
Dave has no idea what he's talking about, but he gathers that whatever it is, it's good news. "Awesome." This seems a good reason to have another drink, and he pulls out the flask again.
"Umm, you..." David makes a gesture as he watches Dave take a big swallow. "I don't mean to, like, tell you what to do, but...are you sure that's such a good idea?"
Dave grins at him. "Nope. I'm not. I tend to be full of terrible ideas, and this is probably just one in a long and distinguished list of them." He decides to try to distract David from his drinking habits, since they appear to make David a little bit uncomfortable. And he's strangely aware of the fact that he doesn't want to do that. "So, what was that all about?"
"Oh! Well, Carly has this string quartet playing for the ceremony, and the cellist's visa got revoked at the last minute, and they wouldn't let him back into the country, so he's been stuck at LAX since last night. And I've worked with the Conservatory's orchestra before, so I figured I'd call the director for suggestions. I guess I just lucked out that someone was available!"
"You sure did, good job!" It's hard not to share David's enthusiasm. His face is so expressive when he talks; and his toothy grin is irresistible. Dave holds up his hand, and David high-fives him, and for some reason their fingers sort of slide between each other, and clasp.
David's eyes look a lot darker against flushed skin, Dave notices. He hangs on a moment too long, just for this reason. David's not exactly struggling to get away, either. He just seems to not know what to say.
"Wait, who's leading, here?" Mike chooses this moment to show up again. "Cook, I'd say it was you, but I already know you can't dance for shit."
"I can dance just fine. With the right partner," Dave shrugs, as he reluctantly lets go of David's hand.
"No, you're crap, regardless," Mike replies cheerfully. "Okay, don't make me beg. Hand over the flask. I'm to the point of just wanting this to all be over."
David steps aside so that Mike can take the flask from Dave, and it's really unfortunate that Brooke makes an indignant entrance at this point. "Mike! If you're drunk before the ceremony, Carly will...never mind, I'll kill you! And I still don't think...oh, hell." She gives a gusty sigh. "Give me that thing."
Dave tries not to grin as he hands the flask over, and watches her take a sip. She grimaces, and swipes a droplet off carefully after swallowing, so as not to smudge her lipstick. "Hm. Not bad. Way better than that swill Kristy brought in. I swear, she's such a hillbilly sometimes." She suddenly notices Dave's increased rumpledness. "Cook! What have you been doing? We had you all fixed up, and now you look like you've been rolling around on the floor."
Dave looks helplessly at his again-undone cuffs. The bow tie had lasted all of five minutes before he'd had to undo it; tight fucking thing. "Relax. I promise I'll be all put together again when the time comes. I'll even zip my fly."
She only dignifies this with a snort, and then sees David still standing off to the side. "David! Oh, thank God I found you. Please tell me you have good news about the cellist."
"He handled it. I was impressed," Dave answers her instead, and smiles when David blushes a little bit again.
"The replacement is on her way over right now. She said she'd have no problem with the music," David adds, and Brooke finally smiles.
"Awesome! Okay, come with me so you can tell Carly yourself. Honestly, you seem to be the only person who calms her down, and if we can't get her to stop hyperventilating, we're never going to get her into her dress."
"Wait, I can help with that!" Mike attempts, but Brooke warns him off with a look.
"You two. Behave," she commands. "And find out where Jason is, he's so late!" She pushes David ahead of her out the door, but not before pausing to snatch the flask away from Dave again. "I think Carly needs this more, at the moment," she says archly, and then is gone with a brisk click of high heels.
Mike's eyes close in defeat, and he seems to be whispering some sort of prayer. Or perhaps those are curse words. Dave decides they can check for Jason in the parking lot.
"Come on, man. I've got the rest of the bottle in the car."
*
It takes a full five minute of hugging and reassuring for Carly to finally relax. David lets her cling to him and pats her back soothingly. When she finally lets him go, Brooke steps in with the flask, and David, for once, is glad to see someone take a stiff belt of liquor, because it seems to fortify Carly enough or her to step behind the privacy screen at one end of the room and start working her way into her dress, with the other bridesmaids' help.
David waits, in case there's anything else she needs him to do.
When she finally steps out from behind the screen, he understands why it's so important to keep Mike out of the room. There's no way her future husband could look at her at this moment, transformed by the contrast of embroidered satin and creamy, ink-traced skin, and still be able to walk straight, much less remember his vows. Even David is speechless.
"What?" Carly asks him, her dark eyes wide with uncertainty. "What's wrong?"
David just shakes his head at her. He walks over, and carefully straightens one of the delicate, beaded straps against the curve of her shoulder. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing. You're perfect, Carly."
At that, she gives him a brilliant smile. "Good. Because I feel like I belong on the prow of ship. This corset thing they laced me into is so tight my boobs are up to my chin and my head's about to pop off."
David shakes his head, laughing. That's the earthy, slightly crude Carly he's used to. "Anything else you need?"
Carly looks over at Brooke, who answers. "Maybe just keep an eye on the guys, make sure they're not getting up to anything. Okay?"
David is across the room before he realizes that the girls don't really consider him one of the guys. He's not really sure how he feels about it, but he doesn't have much time to worry about that because he again runs into Mike at the door.
"Mike! No!" David uses all of his force to push the much taller man back. "You are not going to see her before the ceremony!" He feels Mike stumble slightly as he backs them both up, and hopes that Mike and Dave haven't found more to drink. "Where's Dave? You should be hanging out with him, it's not gonna be too long, now, and the priest will need you guys to be ready."
"Dave is..." Mike lets David reroute him and stares off into space. "Dave is a great guy," he says fondly.
David rolls his eyes. Okay, so they found more booze. Sometimes he really wishes other forms of Christianity banned the stuff like Mormons did. "He seems like a great guy, Mike." David realizes he actually agrees, even in the short space of time he and Dave shared together. Great guy, and...okay. Yeah, he's really cute. Hot, even. In spite of the messy red hair, and the beard, and...okay. Maybe because of them. And the way he looks in a tux.
"He's my best man, you know," Mike says, and David nods again, wondering if perhaps he should try to find Mike some coffee. "He's off writing his speech. The best man speech-toast-thing. It's gonna be great. 'Cause...he knows all these...big words, and stuff."
David sighs. Coffee it is, then. He hangs onto Mike's arm, and marches him off to find some.
*
If ever there were two people who belong together, it's Mike and Carly. I was there when they first met, and all you had to do was look at Mike when he looked at Carly, and you'd know it was true.
Okay, not a bad intro. Dave chews on the end of the pen, considering.
Unfortunately, it also reminds him that Simon was there, at that fateful pre-production meeting, too; long before Dave and Simon were a thing. But the current between them had been undeniable, even then. The way Simon would be all glossy and polite, even when offering harsh criticism. The way Dave would be deferential and courteous, and then save something rude for a public moment, when he knew it would get Simon all worked up.
Just like it was easy to see how good Mike and Carly were together, everyone, everyone had been able to see what a potential disaster it would be when Dave inevitably hooked up with Simon. Everyone except perhaps Dave himself. Or maybe he'd known just as well, but chosen to ignore it. Because who wouldn't have wanted to be the object of that kind of powerful, seductive attention and focus?
Dave takes another drink from the bottle he's stashed under his jacket. Sure, maybe the sanctuary of Holy Angels is not the best place in the world to tie one on. But it's quiet, and the muted sunlight glinting red and blue through the stained glass windows looks like rubies and sapphires scattered about the floor. It's painfully beautiful, and it suits his mood just fine.
He should not be having such difficulty writing this speech. He's a songwriter as well as a performer, and abundantly talented at both. These are his strengths, and he should be killing this best-man-speech-thing. Instead he's writing maudlin, trite phrases and mooning over his failed relationship.
He looks down at the scrap of paper, and realizes he can't read the last sentence. Okay, this is getting ridiculous. Maybe he should just wing it? Improvise?
Mike and Carly are two of my best friends in the whole world. I mean, who but your best friends will ask you to stand up at their wedding, and bear witness to their declaration of eternal, passionate love for each other, when they know for a fact that you believe eternal, passionate love is a bullshit concept? These are some motherfucking good friends. Let's toast them, because they rule. He snorts at the thought of delivering this particular toast, with his champagne glass raised in front of hundreds of scandalized reception guests. And then perhaps even his good friends might start rethinking their judgment, so...no. Start again.
There once was this guy from Australia,
At marriage, he won't be a failure
His suit's really sick
And he's got a great chick
And whiskey sure cures what ails ya
He's laughing out loud when he hears voices behind him. He turns to see the ever-talented David leading a stately procession of string musicians to the front of the church. He gets them seated and tuning up in short order, before he notices Dave sitting there a few rows back, legs sprawled carelessly in the aisle.
"How's your speech going?" he asks, sliding into the pew in front of Dave.
"It's going," Dave hedges. Nowhere fast, considering that I just wrote a limerick about Mike's tux, and how drunk I am.
"Oh," David replies, sounding as though he knows Dave's struggling with it. "I guess it's probably a little hard to come up with the perfect toast for two people who are meant to be together. Like Carly and Mike." He smiles, looking off towards the stained glass windows. "I've never seen anyone as in love as they are."
"I know. It's almost gross, isn't it?" Dave replies, and immediately feels bad when David looks back at him, shocked. "I'm sorry. I don't mean that, at all. They are perfect for each other. And yeah, this thing has to be perfect. I'm probably not in the best mindset for it, either." Another wave of sadness washes over him, astonishingly strong, as David just looks at him. How does this kid somehow just make him want to spill the whole sordid story?
They sit in silence for a few moments as the musicians start in with a haunting Bartok piece. David touches Dave's arm. "We should probably go. People are starting to arrive, and the ushers will start seating them soon." He gently tugs the undone cuff of Dave's shirt. "Maybe let's...get you fastened up. You can worry about your speech after the ceremony's over, right?"
"Right. After it's over," Dave replies. He gets up and follows David out of the sanctuary, but not before carefully stashing the bottle underneath the pew, where he can reclaim it later. He's had enough, for now anyhow.
Time to go get those two crazy kids married.
*
5:05 pm
David slides into position at the double doors of the sanctuary. Finally, all the diverse and potentially discordant parts of Carly's wedding are finally coming together: the flower arrangements are perfect, the string quartet has been re-constituted, playing Bach unobtrusively and waiting for their cue. The ushers have distributed the wedding programs and seated the wedding guests, and the bridal party is finally on the way down.
David's feeling particularly pleased with his groom-wrangling abilities. It had also taken some doing, but he'd finally tracked down some coffee, in a pot in the ladies' tea room across from the vestry. Mike had made a face, as if the coffee had tasted as vile as it had smelled, but he'd pulled himself together pretty quickly after that, and allowed David to position him carefully at the front of the church, under the watchful eye of the priest, where he wouldn't be tempted to drink any more.
Beside Mike are his groomsmen, including one Dave Cook, looking a little worse for wear. David frowns; he knows that Dave should also have partaken of the coffee, but he's not sure there's enough caffeine in this entire church to make Dave look any more sober. David had done his best with Dave's cuffs, resisting the temptation to use an industrial-sized stapler, and he'd tied Dave's bow tie reasonably neatly around his neck, but from where David stands now, across the length of the aisle, it looks like Dave has managed to work it loose yet again so that it hangs askew around Dave's broad neck. The guy might look like an adult, but he clearly has a kid's unerring ability to become unkempt in about ten seconds flat.
David's not sure what Dave's story is, but he's pretty sure that happy, well-adjusted people don't get this drunk before their best friend's wedding. Dave also looks like he's here alone, which is kind of surprising, because he looks - here, David deliberately avoids any mental references to Dave's attractiveness - he looks like the sort of guy who would come to a wedding with a date.
Thinking about Dave Cook's dateless situation makes David consider his own, briefly. He hasn't been dating anyone in forever, actually, not since he moved out here last fall to play piano for the second wing of the L.A. Philharmonic. Everyone in the orchestra had been really nice, but he'd just been so busy with rehearsals and performances, especially now in the summer - the concerts at the Hollywood Bowl were a huge draw, and the second wingers played every evening, just about. Obviously he dreams of making it to the main orchestra next season, or the season that follows; he's had the Music Director pop in on a couple of rehearsals and make a few flattering comments. Carly thinks it's just a matter of time, of course, until David makes it - her optimism is one of the things he loves about her.
Of course, she'd suggested he might want to ask the Music Director out for dinner, as well, but that was just because Carly liked fixing people up, and she thought he'd been dateless for too long. She had actually introduced David to his first boyfriend, one of her friends from theatre school in San Diego, and she'd been more devastated than David himself when they'd amicably parted ways, go figure.
Anyway: David doesn't have time to mull over his last relationship and his current lack of one. This is Carly's big day, and they'd better get the show on the road quickly, before more of the best man's clothes unfasten themselves (and David so doesn't need this mental image right now).
And not a moment too soon, David hears a footfall outside the double doors, and he cracks one open and slides outside.
The antechamber's filled with the fluttering skirts of the bridal party: Shannon, Syesha, Kristy Lee and the other girls in their silk dresses, negotiating their own bouquets and Carly's, Brooke, the maid of honor, straightening the bride's train. And Carly, of course, radiant and more demure than David has ever seen her, partially hidden behind behind her long veil, with her father at her side.
Carly's dad smiles at David - David had been the most academically-inclined of all Carly's school friends, which had made him popular in the Smithson household. David makes a little wave, before saying to Carly, quietly, "Are you ready?"
She shoots him a nervous look at first, then squares her shoulders and gives him her old, brassy smile. "Yep. Tell 'em to hit it loudly, I wanna see crying when I walk in."
"You got it." David pops back into the sanctuary and makes an elaborate signal over the heads of the wedding guests to Father James, who launches into his welcome address. Mike actually kind of jumps, and Dave puts a comforting hand on his arm. To David's dismay, Dave's bow tie has started to droop significantly.
Father James asks the congregation to rise, the string quartet launch into Pachabel's Canon in D, and David pulls the double doors open.
A murmur ripples through the crowd as the bridesmaids walk down the aisle to the swelling, lovely music. Then there's the segue into Mendelssohn's traditional Wedding March that heralds the arrival of the bride, and Carly walks in on her father's arm. There is indeed some muffled crying, it sounded like it was coming from the Smithson clan, David has the vague impression the Irish are kind of emotional about weddings.
From his vantage point by the double doors, David has an unobstructed view down the aisle, and he's suddenly, keenly aware of how worthy their efforts to keep Mike out of the bridal chamber had been, because Mike looks like he's about to fall over, watching his bride walk towards him like she's walking towards her future, and of course she is. It's probably a good thing Dave's there to hold onto Mike's arm and keep him upright.
As the bridal party nears the front of the church, David pushes the doors quietly shut again, and scoots down the side aisle to the front row. He takes his seat at the same time as the congregation is asked to sit, in time to see Carly reach the front, and put her hand in Mike's. Her face, behind the veil, looks serene and lovely. Mike's face is...David has never seen anyone look like that before, like they'd be happy to keep gazing at this one person for the rest of their life.
"Dearly beloved," says Father James, "We're gathered here today in the presence of God to witness the marriage of Michael Johns and Carly Smithson, and to ask for God's blessing on them as they start their new life together. Marriage is a holy sacrament; like our creation as men and women, it owes its existence to God. It is God’s divine will and intention that two people should love each other throughout their life, and that the children born to them should enjoy the security of family and home. Let us pray."
David clasps his hands and squeezes his eyes shut. It hadn't been easy to be an observant Mormon in Los Angeles, and he'd stopped observing a while ago, but he had nevertheless brought God with him in his heart. He lifts his prayer up, now, with the congregation, for God's abundant blessings over Carly and Mike and their new journey.
When the prayer's over, and the resident Holy Angels choir launches into "Love Divine, All Loves Excelling" David opens his eyes and looks into the amused eyes of Dave Cook, who has inexplicably gotten closer to David in the intervening few minutes and has moved away from his best man position, while David's head had been bowed. Why, clearly, Dave hadn't been praying at all! David frowns reflexively, and a corner of Dave's mouth curls up in a small smirk that manages to be both annoying and really rather hot. Under the smirk, Dave's bow tie looks like it's practically undoing itself.
David feels substantially warmer, and narrowly stops himself from tugging at his own bow tie. It really won't do if David starts coming undone as well.
*
Dave hopes he doesn't start swaying on his feet; it wouldn't do for the best man to keel over even before the vows are exchanged. Carly's Irish mom looks like she's capable of killing him, and so does Mike's mom, and they're right there in the front pew - with his luck, he'll end up faceplanting into their laps or something, thereby neatly facilitating the killing process.
Of course, Mike and Carly are so wrapped up in each other that the entire bridal party could faint dead away and they wouldn't notice. Mike's holding Carly's hand and gazing at her as if she's the only woman in the world, and Carly is gazing back. Dave watches them stare at each other during the reading from Song of Solomon, Mike cracking up, briefly, when his brother stumbles over, "Thy breasts are like twin deer/that feed among the lilies,", and Carly mouthing the words to "Thou art all fair, my love/There is no spot in thee". Goddamn, that last one...he feels his eyes sting, and rubs them surreptitiously with his thumb.
When the reading's over, the priest gets down to the serious business of the charge. "Carly and Michael, the covenant which you are about to make with each other is meant to be a beautiful and sacred expression of your love for each other. As you pledge your vows to each other, and as you commit your lives to each other, you should do so in all seriousness, and yet with a deep sense of joy; with the deep conviction that you are committing yourselves to a dynamic growing relationship of trust, mutual support, and caring love."
Dave hasn't been to church for years, and his memories of the wedding service come from cheesy romantic movies, so he wonders when they're going to get to the part where the priest asks, "If anyone knows why these two shall not be legally wed, speak now or forever hold your peace!" It takes a while before he realizes they've clearly edited that part out of the Episcopalian Order of Service. Too many practical jokers, probably; not like Dave was planning on anything so crass, of course.
He snaps to attention when the priest asks Mike, "Will you have this woman to be your wedded wife, to live together in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep only unto her, so long as you both shall live?"
"I will," his friend says, thickly.
Out of the corner of Dave's eye, he sees Brooke pull a preemptive tissue from her decolletage; it's a little distracting. But Carly doesn't need it, apparently, and her voice is steady when it's her turn to say, "I will."
"Please face each other," the priest tells Mike and Carly, and they do. Dave wonders whether he should have stashed tissue in his man-decolletage equivalent, because Mike is seriously about to cry.
Fortunately, though his voice becomes more and more unsteady, Mike manages to not forget his lines. Dave's glad, because these lines are such a killer; the traditional vows are just the best. "I, Michael, take you, Carly, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and this is my solemn vow."
Dave rubs his eye violently, wonders if Brooke would take it amiss if he reached into her dress for tissue. Probably not a good idea.
And now Carly's crying. Brooke hands over the tissue, and she dabs carefully under her veil. There's a loud blowing sound from Mike's mom, and the assorted Australians on the groom's side of the room.
When Carly finally composes herself, though, her voice rings out strong and sure. "I, Carly, take you, Michael, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and this is my solemn vow."
Dave figures that if he keeps looking at Carly, or at Mike, he's going to cry again himself, so he looks fixedly over at the front pew during Carly's vows. Not to his surprise, his gaze falls on David Archuleta, crying discreetly into a plaid handkerchief. David's nose is pink at the tip, his dark lashes are wet - it's a remarkably alluring sight, and Dave takes another step in David's direction, in order to get a closer look.
David sniffs loudly, and looks up into Dave's eyes; David's eyes widen, and then narrow. Busted, Dave thinks to himself, grinning. Hey, there's nothing wrong with looking. Especially now that Dave is a free agent again, damn it.
Not that Simon had had issues with jealousy; their problem was kind of the reverse situation. Dave should have realized that Simon's roving eye and need for variety would inevitably have landed him in their bed with someone else.
Unsurprisingly, Dave feels his palms itch - he'd better not have forgotten where he'd stashed his bottle of Jameson.
Belatedly, Dave pulls his gaze from David's and looks back towards the wedding ceremony, to find five pairs of expectant eyes trained on him.
"I said, does the best man have the rings?" says the priest, a little loudly; doubtless wondering why Dave's bow tie is slowly unraveling before his eyes.
Dave feels the time-honored spike of best-manly panic as he belatedly claps a hand to his jacket. You better not dick around, mate, Mike's warning glare tells him. Dave reaches into his jacket, and pulls out the Tiffany box, and as one, the wedding party heaves an audible sigh of relief; behind him, Dave can hear David cut loose with a similar sigh, too.
"You had me worried for a minute there," Mike mutters, as Dave steps in close and hands the rings to the priest. As the priest gives Carly's ring to Mike, and Mike takes her left hand, lifting it to the light, Dave sees she's sporting a new tattoo - Mike's name, in cursive, around her ring finger.
"In token and pledge of our constant faith and abiding love, with this ring, I thee wed," says Mike simply. "With my body, I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."
He slides the circle of gold onto her finger, over her ring tattoo. She's crying, Brooke's crying, Syesha and Shannon and even Kristy Lee are crying, Dave is biting his lip to keep from crying, there likely isn't a dry eye in the church.
Then it's Carly's turn, and Dave knows Mike has a matching tattoo on that finger with Carly's name on it. She smiles when she says, "With my body I thee worship," and when she slides the ring onto Mike's finger, Mike starts crying too; his face is so full of hope and love and tenderness, Dave can hardly look at him. There's a serious need for tissue at the front of the church, and Brooke's supply seems to have run out. Man, you'd have expected the priest to have some on hand for moments like this, but he looks pretty helpless as well - ah, crap -
- and yet again, it's David Archuleta to the rescue! Who'd have thought the kid would have an emergency pack of Kleenex stashed in his well-cut trousers? David hands tissues around, and waits for everyone to pull themselves together, including Dave himself.
The priest calls the bride's and groom's parents to step forward and assist in the candle lighting ceremony. As the bridesmaids rush forward to help Carly with her veil and skirts, Dave takes the opportunity to sidle closer to David, who's hovering on the far end, trying to stash used tissues in his pockets. Dave whispers out of the corner of his mouth, "Hey, nice save. Again!"
"These two are totally always going to cry," David whispers back, matter-of-factly. "And, as for you - " He takes a quick look around them as if to make sure they're not blocking anyone's view of the proceedings, which Dave, for some reason, finds adorable. Then he steps in close, and takes hold of Dave's bow tie purposefully. Dave's very conscious of the deft, warm fingers working under his chin.
"There," David mutters, finally, and takes a step back. He glares at Dave's jawline. "I'd like to see you work your way out of that!"
"Hey, I'm a certified escape artist," Dave says, a bit too loudly, before he can stop himself, and David turns scarlet to the roots of his hair. What do you know, the kid blushes as prettily as he cries. Ordinarily, Dave wouldn't make any effort to hide his interest, except he's not sure how old David is, and David has just spent the last couple of hours watching Dave drink himself silly over Dave's ex-boyfriend. He doesn't want David to think he's...indiscriminate, or something.
David looks like he's about to say something in response when the wedding party returns, and David scoots off to his seat. Dave scowls; the conversationis interruptus is kind of frustrating, but there's the very best reason for the interruption: the priest opens his arms wide and says, "Carly and Michael have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have pledged their faith each to the other, and have declared the same by joining hands and by giving and receiving rings. I pronounce them husband and wife, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder. Amen."
He pauses, theatrically, and then says to Mike, "You may now kiss the bride."
Not a moment too soon. Mike lifts Carly's veil, and bends her over, and Dave and David and the entire church bursts into cheering and applause.
...to be continued...
Go to FTDF Part 2
Authors: frackin_sweet and jehane18
Fandom: AI S7
Pairing:David Cook/David Archuleta; Michael Johns/Carly Smithson
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.
EDIT: Check out the lovely invitation, soundtrack, and other goodies
made for us by the generous and awesome celtic-cookie!!
3pm
He's supposed to be inside the church already. After three texts from Johns, he's still sitting in his car, in his already-rumpled tux, tie undone, nursing the flask full of Jameson. What the hell, he won't be the first best man ever to reek of whiskey. It's kind of an Irish thing. Certainly Carly won't mind.
David Cook looks down at his phone, buzzing and lighting up on the seat. Another text. He reads it.
WHERE THE F R U???? Mike is apparently starting to lose a little of his famous cool.
Dave has already had enough to affect his judgment a little. cant find the ring he replies.
Upon receipt of this bit of news, the phone rings. "I will kill you." Mike says without preamble. "No. Carly will kill you. I'll have you revived, and kill you again!"
"Relax, man. Kidding. I'm in the parking lot. I've got the ring, I'm good to go," Dave replies, trying for a soothing tone. He ruins it by taking another swallow of whiskey in the middle of this reassurance.
Mike doesn't miss the telltale sound. "Dave, you know I don't care what you do, right? But if you're wasted, I'm telling you..."
Dave reluctantly caps the flask and tucks it away. "I know, you'll kill me. I'm not."
"Look, I know, okay? Sucks to have to do this wedding thing so soon after you and Simon..."
Dave interrupts immediately. "It doesn't suck. There's nowhere I'd rather be than standing up for you and Carly, Mike. I love you guys."
"Right, mate, I know. Now get in here before Brooke comes out and hauls you in by your ass!"
Dave pushes away the wave of melancholy. "I'd like to see her try. Comin' in." He hangs up, stashes the flask in his jacket, and leaves his car to go inside.
Holy Angels Church's bell tower rises majestically into the blue Los Angeles sky, and the gothic stonework seems to belong to much older, more sacred place. Brooke greets him inside the door, all silken skirts and trailing blond locks. The angelic looks stops at her mouth, which is frowning at him. "Please tell me you didn't sleep in the tux," she says.
"I didn't sleep in the tux," he replies dutifully, and submits to her ministrations as she attends to his cufflinks. It's good, because they're a little bit beyond him. "You look gorgeous, Brooke," he tells her, truthfully.
"And you look like hell," she replies, also truthfully, touching his face briefly before returning to his cuffs. "Have you even slept?"
Has he? Since the night he showed up at Simon's penthouse, and found his older lover in bed with someone else? Not much. Not unless he's drunken himself into a stupor first. "A little," he says. "I'm fine, Brooke, really. Need people to stop asking me if I'm okay. Okay?"
She's moved on to his tie. "Okay," she says quietly. "You know, I'm not good at these, maybe..."
"I'll do up that loser's tie," says a deep voice behind them. Dave turns to see Michael Johns, looking like Hugh Jackman decided to be James Bond for a day. Minus the gun, of course. "If I do it, can I go in and see her?" Mike asks Brooke.
"No, Michael. Absolutely not. Stop asking me." Brooke gives them both a schoolmarmy-chastising look. "You know it's bad luck." With that, turns on her heel and disappears down a hallway, leaving Dave in Michael's care.
Dave just looks at his friend for a moment, and then pulls out the flask.
"Oh, thank all that's holy," Mike says reverently, and takes a long pull. "I'm really starting to lose it. Carly's freaking out; something happened with the musicians, the flowers are late, and she can't get ahold of her one friend who's supposed to be managing all that."
Dave grins. "Sounds like a typical wedding to me." When Mike tries to hand back the flask, he shakes his head. "Have another. You need it more than I do."
"Probably," Mike nods, but he stops before taking another drink. "You sure you're okay?"
"Look. Let's get something straight." Dave takes a deep breath. Time to nip all this pitying-of-him in the bud. "Did I catch my boyfriend cheating on me, in our bed, with a hot girl? Yes. Did this really suck balls? Yes. Did you guys all tell me it was a bad idea to ever date him in the first place? Hell yes. Did I listen? Hell no. And am I glad you're not saying 'I told you so'? Yes."
Mike is just looking at him, a little sadly, as he finishes up this monologue. "Nobody ever wanted to say that. Only wanted you to be happy. It sucks."
"It does," Dave agreed. "But for now, I'm not thinking about it. Two of my very best friends are getting married today, and that's all that matters." He has to swallow hard as Mike pulls him into a fierce hug.
When Mike lets go, he clears his throat. "And now I've got a speech to go write. Go do something...groomly, or something, okay?" Mike nods and hurries off, as a delivery truck finally arrives, laden with the missing flowers.
Dave finds an unoccupied church classroom, and squeezes into one of the catechism desks. He pulls out the notepad on which he'd started his best man's speech, late the previous night.
Some people say love is a many-splendoured thing, it begins.
Someone I loved used to say that...
Someone who treats love like a knife he'll plunge into your gut the moment you let your guard down...
He crumples up the paper and tosses it at the wastebasket. Then he pulls out the flask, and starts over.
*
"No, you're not understanding me. I need the plain set of goblets gift-wrapped. The engraved set I'm taking with me, because they need them for the reception." David Archuleta is trying not to let his frustration at the Macy's cashier get the best of him.
Because really, it's his own fault that he forgot Carly and Mike's wedding gift until this very moment. He'd been so caught up in fielding all the other little details Carly needed, that shopping fell by the wayside. So did getting a date for the wedding. He didn't really like the idea of going alone, but at least it would let him focus more on taking care of things for Carly.
He feels his phone buzz; another text. "And...I'm sorry, you've been very helpful, but would you please hurry? I'm so late, as it is." He looks down at his iPhone, and the screen practically wails at him. OMG WHERE R U???????
On my way dont wry! he quickly types in reply. Fortunately the gift-wrappers are dexterous and quick, and he's out of the store with his parcels in record time.
The traffic on the one-ten is terrible, as usual, but David skips his usual safe-driver rules and speeds. In the carpool lane, no less. He gets the bird from people so often he actually stops cringing when it happens.
He pulls into the church lot with a squeal of tires that his little hybrid has never experienced before, and practically runs inside to find Mike trying to wrangle the florists. "It's okay, I've got this," he reassures the wild-eyed groom-to-be. Mike has never looked so relieved in his life as he relinquishes the situation to David.
"Okay. The big arrangement with the long-stemmed roses and the votive candles goes in the front of the church. The candelabra arrangements go on either side of the altar, and the little round bouquets go on the ends of the pews. Leave the boutonnieres in the vestry, and I'll take the girls' flowers with me." He grabs the handcart with its crates of fragrant blooms, all tied up in ribbons. "Oh, and here," he pulls an envelope out of a pocket. "Tip's included."
It isn't hard to find the ladies' dressing room; he follows the scent of perfume and hair product. "Knock knock, everybody decent?" he calls against the closed door.
A slender, braceleted arm snakes out and grabs him. "Gosh, hold on!" he gasps as it almost yanks him through the small opening. "I've got the flowers with me, and the toasting glasses!"
Syesha pokes her head out, doe-like eyes apologetic. "Oops, sorry!"
"Who is that?" David can hear Carly call out from inside the room. "If it's not David, I'm going to cry. Again. My eyeliner is history."
"Honey, it's him, it's him! Don't mess up your eyeliner again!" Syesha replies, holding the door for David and his cargo. The girls quickly take charge of distributing the flowers, freeing him to go over to Carly, seated at a lighted makeup table, a dressing gown thrown carelessly over her bridal lingerie.
Carly's sister Shannon is taking Carly's hair out of huge rollers, but after a quick smile for David, she steps aside so he can slide in next to Carly with the box of engraved toasting goblets. "These turned out beautifully," he whispers in her ear, leaning down to give her a hug. "Not as beautiful as you, though."
Carly makes an unladylike snort, and goes for another tissue to dab at her eyes. "Oh, you're just saying that. I'm a mess! I'm freaking out about every little thing! The flowers..."
"Are here now, so don't worry," David soothes.
"And the musicians, like, the cellist's visa got revoked or something, so the string quartet has no cellist! Someone needs to call the Czech embassy! And oh, my God, Mike keeps trying to sneak in here, and I'm gonna kill him if he sees me..."
"So am I!" Syesha and Kristy say simultaneously.
"Right? And Cook never showed up, and he's the best man..."
"No, he's here. Off working on his speech right now," Brooke reassures her from her other side. Over Carly's half-curlered head, she gives David a look and mouths He's already kinda drunk.
David spares a moment of worry for the drunken best man. He's never met the guy, but that sounds like a potential problem. He continues patting Carly's arm, not quite sure what to say, other than, "It's okay, it's gonna be okay."
"And...and..." She hiccups, and Brooke dives for the tissues when she sees Carly's eyes redden again. "Something blue. I totally don't have something blue!"
"Oh!" At this Brooke shoves the tissues at David, who realizes it's his turn on eyeliner-protection duty. He holds them warily, as if Carly's about to launch tears like a squirt gun. "I almost forgot!"
Brooke bends down below the table and comes back up with a white shoebox. "Your something blue, sweetheart. You can thank me and Ebay later."
Carly takes the top off the box, and suddenly David has to go into defensive mode with the tissues, because she's crying again, over the baby-blue-soled white satin Louboutin pumps. "Oh, Brooke! They haven't even made these for years! How did you...?"
"Never mind that, quit crying already!" Brooke pets her, and grabs more tissues.
David smiles at her as she helps preserve Carly's eye makeup. "Those are perfect," he says.
Brooke's eyes are shiny too, suddenly. "Nothing but the best for you, today," she says, pressing her lips to the top of Carly's head, amidst the curlers. "David. Do you want to try to handle the cellist thing? That sounds like it might be your department."
Ok, a missing cellist is one thing. But the Czech embassy? "I'm on it!" he declares, and grabs his phone as he heads for the door of the dressing room.
As he opens it, he runs smack into Mike, who is being unsuccessfully restrained by a broad-shouldered guy with undone French cuffs and an untied bow tie.
"Mike! You wanna cause like, twelve years bad luck or something?" the guy cajoles, as Mike replies, "That's for breaking a mirror! I just wanna see my fiancee for a damn minute!"
David wrinkles his nose. They both smell a little bit like booze. He has a feeling this is the best man, and that perhaps he's not the best man for the job, at the moment. "Mike. Carly is fine, but she needs to finish getting ready," he says reasonably, placing his hands firmly against Mike's neat lapels.
Mike tries to dodge him, but David has given the other guy a chance to get a grip on Mike's arm again, and put another hand over his eyes. "Seriously, man. You'll thank us later." Together, David and the disheveled guy push and pull Mike carefully out of the room, to the sound of more threats from the bridesmaids.
"Um...are you the best man?" David asks his partner in Mike-wrangling, as they escort the nervous groom down the hall to the vestry. Don't people usually shave before a wedding?
The guy nods, and almost as if he's heard David's thoughts, rubs his chin self-consciously. "Dave Cook," he says. "But I don't know if I qualify for best anything, right now." With a wry smile, he offers his hand behind Mike's back.
David takes it, and does his best to return the firm, warm grip. "David Archuleta," he replies. "I'm, um...Carly's friend. Well, Mike's too. But yeah." He has to clear his throat, and then points to a door. "We should probably get you guys your flowers."
Inside the vestry, David quickly affixes the boutonniere to Mike's lapel, and then moves on to Dave. "Um, keep an eye on Mike, okay?" he whispers, leaning close. He has to slide a hand underneath the jacket to keep from sticking Dave with the pin, because for some reason, his fingers are a little unsteady, all of a sudden. And it's kind of warm in the room.
Dave nods, very close to David's ear; close enough that the aforenoticed stubble brushes his skin. "Don't worry, I won't let him get away," he replies, equally softly.
David's not sure what kind of alcohol that is on Dave's breath, but it's kind of strong. Not unpleasant, though, strangely enough. When he pulls back, he reaches into a pocket. "Um...gum?"
"Oh. Sure," Dave replies, and takes a stick.
David can't help but watch as he puts it in his mouth. Gum has possibly never been so fascinating before.
"...can finish it later, so, I'll keep an eye on Mike..." Dave is saying, when David realizes he's speaking again.
"Right, um, cool, thanks," he replies, and turns to hide his blush. Fortunately, right then he gets an idea. He pulls out his phone and dials 411. "Los Angeles Conservatory of Music," he says, when the operator asks for his request.
He's got a cellist to replace.
*
Dave surreptitiously listens as David carries on a conversation with a Dr. someone at the LACoM. He gets the impression that perhaps David is, or was a student there, or that he has worked with this person before, as David seemingly rejects several suggestions before taking one and then calling the number. He watches as David talks, and paces, asking the unseen musician if she's proficient with Bach, and Pachelbel, and Vivaldi, if she's really as good on the cello as she is on the viola, if she has a black cocktail dress, and if she's available immediately. Apparently the answers are all affirmative, and David hangs up and gives a little double-fisted victory gesture.
"Take that, Department of Homeland Security! Oh...I mean, haha. That was..." David's exultant expression falters a bit when he sees Dave looking at him, one eyebrow raised. "Looks like we don't need to get the cellist's visa renewed after all."
Dave has no idea what he's talking about, but he gathers that whatever it is, it's good news. "Awesome." This seems a good reason to have another drink, and he pulls out the flask again.
"Umm, you..." David makes a gesture as he watches Dave take a big swallow. "I don't mean to, like, tell you what to do, but...are you sure that's such a good idea?"
Dave grins at him. "Nope. I'm not. I tend to be full of terrible ideas, and this is probably just one in a long and distinguished list of them." He decides to try to distract David from his drinking habits, since they appear to make David a little bit uncomfortable. And he's strangely aware of the fact that he doesn't want to do that. "So, what was that all about?"
"Oh! Well, Carly has this string quartet playing for the ceremony, and the cellist's visa got revoked at the last minute, and they wouldn't let him back into the country, so he's been stuck at LAX since last night. And I've worked with the Conservatory's orchestra before, so I figured I'd call the director for suggestions. I guess I just lucked out that someone was available!"
"You sure did, good job!" It's hard not to share David's enthusiasm. His face is so expressive when he talks; and his toothy grin is irresistible. Dave holds up his hand, and David high-fives him, and for some reason their fingers sort of slide between each other, and clasp.
David's eyes look a lot darker against flushed skin, Dave notices. He hangs on a moment too long, just for this reason. David's not exactly struggling to get away, either. He just seems to not know what to say.
"Wait, who's leading, here?" Mike chooses this moment to show up again. "Cook, I'd say it was you, but I already know you can't dance for shit."
"I can dance just fine. With the right partner," Dave shrugs, as he reluctantly lets go of David's hand.
"No, you're crap, regardless," Mike replies cheerfully. "Okay, don't make me beg. Hand over the flask. I'm to the point of just wanting this to all be over."
David steps aside so that Mike can take the flask from Dave, and it's really unfortunate that Brooke makes an indignant entrance at this point. "Mike! If you're drunk before the ceremony, Carly will...never mind, I'll kill you! And I still don't think...oh, hell." She gives a gusty sigh. "Give me that thing."
Dave tries not to grin as he hands the flask over, and watches her take a sip. She grimaces, and swipes a droplet off carefully after swallowing, so as not to smudge her lipstick. "Hm. Not bad. Way better than that swill Kristy brought in. I swear, she's such a hillbilly sometimes." She suddenly notices Dave's increased rumpledness. "Cook! What have you been doing? We had you all fixed up, and now you look like you've been rolling around on the floor."
Dave looks helplessly at his again-undone cuffs. The bow tie had lasted all of five minutes before he'd had to undo it; tight fucking thing. "Relax. I promise I'll be all put together again when the time comes. I'll even zip my fly."
She only dignifies this with a snort, and then sees David still standing off to the side. "David! Oh, thank God I found you. Please tell me you have good news about the cellist."
"He handled it. I was impressed," Dave answers her instead, and smiles when David blushes a little bit again.
"The replacement is on her way over right now. She said she'd have no problem with the music," David adds, and Brooke finally smiles.
"Awesome! Okay, come with me so you can tell Carly yourself. Honestly, you seem to be the only person who calms her down, and if we can't get her to stop hyperventilating, we're never going to get her into her dress."
"Wait, I can help with that!" Mike attempts, but Brooke warns him off with a look.
"You two. Behave," she commands. "And find out where Jason is, he's so late!" She pushes David ahead of her out the door, but not before pausing to snatch the flask away from Dave again. "I think Carly needs this more, at the moment," she says archly, and then is gone with a brisk click of high heels.
Mike's eyes close in defeat, and he seems to be whispering some sort of prayer. Or perhaps those are curse words. Dave decides they can check for Jason in the parking lot.
"Come on, man. I've got the rest of the bottle in the car."
*
It takes a full five minute of hugging and reassuring for Carly to finally relax. David lets her cling to him and pats her back soothingly. When she finally lets him go, Brooke steps in with the flask, and David, for once, is glad to see someone take a stiff belt of liquor, because it seems to fortify Carly enough or her to step behind the privacy screen at one end of the room and start working her way into her dress, with the other bridesmaids' help.
David waits, in case there's anything else she needs him to do.
When she finally steps out from behind the screen, he understands why it's so important to keep Mike out of the room. There's no way her future husband could look at her at this moment, transformed by the contrast of embroidered satin and creamy, ink-traced skin, and still be able to walk straight, much less remember his vows. Even David is speechless.
"What?" Carly asks him, her dark eyes wide with uncertainty. "What's wrong?"
David just shakes his head at her. He walks over, and carefully straightens one of the delicate, beaded straps against the curve of her shoulder. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing. You're perfect, Carly."
At that, she gives him a brilliant smile. "Good. Because I feel like I belong on the prow of ship. This corset thing they laced me into is so tight my boobs are up to my chin and my head's about to pop off."
David shakes his head, laughing. That's the earthy, slightly crude Carly he's used to. "Anything else you need?"
Carly looks over at Brooke, who answers. "Maybe just keep an eye on the guys, make sure they're not getting up to anything. Okay?"
David is across the room before he realizes that the girls don't really consider him one of the guys. He's not really sure how he feels about it, but he doesn't have much time to worry about that because he again runs into Mike at the door.
"Mike! No!" David uses all of his force to push the much taller man back. "You are not going to see her before the ceremony!" He feels Mike stumble slightly as he backs them both up, and hopes that Mike and Dave haven't found more to drink. "Where's Dave? You should be hanging out with him, it's not gonna be too long, now, and the priest will need you guys to be ready."
"Dave is..." Mike lets David reroute him and stares off into space. "Dave is a great guy," he says fondly.
David rolls his eyes. Okay, so they found more booze. Sometimes he really wishes other forms of Christianity banned the stuff like Mormons did. "He seems like a great guy, Mike." David realizes he actually agrees, even in the short space of time he and Dave shared together. Great guy, and...okay. Yeah, he's really cute. Hot, even. In spite of the messy red hair, and the beard, and...okay. Maybe because of them. And the way he looks in a tux.
"He's my best man, you know," Mike says, and David nods again, wondering if perhaps he should try to find Mike some coffee. "He's off writing his speech. The best man speech-toast-thing. It's gonna be great. 'Cause...he knows all these...big words, and stuff."
David sighs. Coffee it is, then. He hangs onto Mike's arm, and marches him off to find some.
*
If ever there were two people who belong together, it's Mike and Carly. I was there when they first met, and all you had to do was look at Mike when he looked at Carly, and you'd know it was true.
Okay, not a bad intro. Dave chews on the end of the pen, considering.
Unfortunately, it also reminds him that Simon was there, at that fateful pre-production meeting, too; long before Dave and Simon were a thing. But the current between them had been undeniable, even then. The way Simon would be all glossy and polite, even when offering harsh criticism. The way Dave would be deferential and courteous, and then save something rude for a public moment, when he knew it would get Simon all worked up.
Just like it was easy to see how good Mike and Carly were together, everyone, everyone had been able to see what a potential disaster it would be when Dave inevitably hooked up with Simon. Everyone except perhaps Dave himself. Or maybe he'd known just as well, but chosen to ignore it. Because who wouldn't have wanted to be the object of that kind of powerful, seductive attention and focus?
Dave takes another drink from the bottle he's stashed under his jacket. Sure, maybe the sanctuary of Holy Angels is not the best place in the world to tie one on. But it's quiet, and the muted sunlight glinting red and blue through the stained glass windows looks like rubies and sapphires scattered about the floor. It's painfully beautiful, and it suits his mood just fine.
He should not be having such difficulty writing this speech. He's a songwriter as well as a performer, and abundantly talented at both. These are his strengths, and he should be killing this best-man-speech-thing. Instead he's writing maudlin, trite phrases and mooning over his failed relationship.
He looks down at the scrap of paper, and realizes he can't read the last sentence. Okay, this is getting ridiculous. Maybe he should just wing it? Improvise?
Mike and Carly are two of my best friends in the whole world. I mean, who but your best friends will ask you to stand up at their wedding, and bear witness to their declaration of eternal, passionate love for each other, when they know for a fact that you believe eternal, passionate love is a bullshit concept? These are some motherfucking good friends. Let's toast them, because they rule. He snorts at the thought of delivering this particular toast, with his champagne glass raised in front of hundreds of scandalized reception guests. And then perhaps even his good friends might start rethinking their judgment, so...no. Start again.
There once was this guy from Australia,
At marriage, he won't be a failure
His suit's really sick
And he's got a great chick
And whiskey sure cures what ails ya
He's laughing out loud when he hears voices behind him. He turns to see the ever-talented David leading a stately procession of string musicians to the front of the church. He gets them seated and tuning up in short order, before he notices Dave sitting there a few rows back, legs sprawled carelessly in the aisle.
"How's your speech going?" he asks, sliding into the pew in front of Dave.
"It's going," Dave hedges. Nowhere fast, considering that I just wrote a limerick about Mike's tux, and how drunk I am.
"Oh," David replies, sounding as though he knows Dave's struggling with it. "I guess it's probably a little hard to come up with the perfect toast for two people who are meant to be together. Like Carly and Mike." He smiles, looking off towards the stained glass windows. "I've never seen anyone as in love as they are."
"I know. It's almost gross, isn't it?" Dave replies, and immediately feels bad when David looks back at him, shocked. "I'm sorry. I don't mean that, at all. They are perfect for each other. And yeah, this thing has to be perfect. I'm probably not in the best mindset for it, either." Another wave of sadness washes over him, astonishingly strong, as David just looks at him. How does this kid somehow just make him want to spill the whole sordid story?
They sit in silence for a few moments as the musicians start in with a haunting Bartok piece. David touches Dave's arm. "We should probably go. People are starting to arrive, and the ushers will start seating them soon." He gently tugs the undone cuff of Dave's shirt. "Maybe let's...get you fastened up. You can worry about your speech after the ceremony's over, right?"
"Right. After it's over," Dave replies. He gets up and follows David out of the sanctuary, but not before carefully stashing the bottle underneath the pew, where he can reclaim it later. He's had enough, for now anyhow.
Time to go get those two crazy kids married.
*
5:05 pm
David slides into position at the double doors of the sanctuary. Finally, all the diverse and potentially discordant parts of Carly's wedding are finally coming together: the flower arrangements are perfect, the string quartet has been re-constituted, playing Bach unobtrusively and waiting for their cue. The ushers have distributed the wedding programs and seated the wedding guests, and the bridal party is finally on the way down.
David's feeling particularly pleased with his groom-wrangling abilities. It had also taken some doing, but he'd finally tracked down some coffee, in a pot in the ladies' tea room across from the vestry. Mike had made a face, as if the coffee had tasted as vile as it had smelled, but he'd pulled himself together pretty quickly after that, and allowed David to position him carefully at the front of the church, under the watchful eye of the priest, where he wouldn't be tempted to drink any more.
Beside Mike are his groomsmen, including one Dave Cook, looking a little worse for wear. David frowns; he knows that Dave should also have partaken of the coffee, but he's not sure there's enough caffeine in this entire church to make Dave look any more sober. David had done his best with Dave's cuffs, resisting the temptation to use an industrial-sized stapler, and he'd tied Dave's bow tie reasonably neatly around his neck, but from where David stands now, across the length of the aisle, it looks like Dave has managed to work it loose yet again so that it hangs askew around Dave's broad neck. The guy might look like an adult, but he clearly has a kid's unerring ability to become unkempt in about ten seconds flat.
David's not sure what Dave's story is, but he's pretty sure that happy, well-adjusted people don't get this drunk before their best friend's wedding. Dave also looks like he's here alone, which is kind of surprising, because he looks - here, David deliberately avoids any mental references to Dave's attractiveness - he looks like the sort of guy who would come to a wedding with a date.
Thinking about Dave Cook's dateless situation makes David consider his own, briefly. He hasn't been dating anyone in forever, actually, not since he moved out here last fall to play piano for the second wing of the L.A. Philharmonic. Everyone in the orchestra had been really nice, but he'd just been so busy with rehearsals and performances, especially now in the summer - the concerts at the Hollywood Bowl were a huge draw, and the second wingers played every evening, just about. Obviously he dreams of making it to the main orchestra next season, or the season that follows; he's had the Music Director pop in on a couple of rehearsals and make a few flattering comments. Carly thinks it's just a matter of time, of course, until David makes it - her optimism is one of the things he loves about her.
Of course, she'd suggested he might want to ask the Music Director out for dinner, as well, but that was just because Carly liked fixing people up, and she thought he'd been dateless for too long. She had actually introduced David to his first boyfriend, one of her friends from theatre school in San Diego, and she'd been more devastated than David himself when they'd amicably parted ways, go figure.
Anyway: David doesn't have time to mull over his last relationship and his current lack of one. This is Carly's big day, and they'd better get the show on the road quickly, before more of the best man's clothes unfasten themselves (and David so doesn't need this mental image right now).
And not a moment too soon, David hears a footfall outside the double doors, and he cracks one open and slides outside.
The antechamber's filled with the fluttering skirts of the bridal party: Shannon, Syesha, Kristy Lee and the other girls in their silk dresses, negotiating their own bouquets and Carly's, Brooke, the maid of honor, straightening the bride's train. And Carly, of course, radiant and more demure than David has ever seen her, partially hidden behind behind her long veil, with her father at her side.
Carly's dad smiles at David - David had been the most academically-inclined of all Carly's school friends, which had made him popular in the Smithson household. David makes a little wave, before saying to Carly, quietly, "Are you ready?"
She shoots him a nervous look at first, then squares her shoulders and gives him her old, brassy smile. "Yep. Tell 'em to hit it loudly, I wanna see crying when I walk in."
"You got it." David pops back into the sanctuary and makes an elaborate signal over the heads of the wedding guests to Father James, who launches into his welcome address. Mike actually kind of jumps, and Dave puts a comforting hand on his arm. To David's dismay, Dave's bow tie has started to droop significantly.
Father James asks the congregation to rise, the string quartet launch into Pachabel's Canon in D, and David pulls the double doors open.
A murmur ripples through the crowd as the bridesmaids walk down the aisle to the swelling, lovely music. Then there's the segue into Mendelssohn's traditional Wedding March that heralds the arrival of the bride, and Carly walks in on her father's arm. There is indeed some muffled crying, it sounded like it was coming from the Smithson clan, David has the vague impression the Irish are kind of emotional about weddings.
From his vantage point by the double doors, David has an unobstructed view down the aisle, and he's suddenly, keenly aware of how worthy their efforts to keep Mike out of the bridal chamber had been, because Mike looks like he's about to fall over, watching his bride walk towards him like she's walking towards her future, and of course she is. It's probably a good thing Dave's there to hold onto Mike's arm and keep him upright.
As the bridal party nears the front of the church, David pushes the doors quietly shut again, and scoots down the side aisle to the front row. He takes his seat at the same time as the congregation is asked to sit, in time to see Carly reach the front, and put her hand in Mike's. Her face, behind the veil, looks serene and lovely. Mike's face is...David has never seen anyone look like that before, like they'd be happy to keep gazing at this one person for the rest of their life.
"Dearly beloved," says Father James, "We're gathered here today in the presence of God to witness the marriage of Michael Johns and Carly Smithson, and to ask for God's blessing on them as they start their new life together. Marriage is a holy sacrament; like our creation as men and women, it owes its existence to God. It is God’s divine will and intention that two people should love each other throughout their life, and that the children born to them should enjoy the security of family and home. Let us pray."
David clasps his hands and squeezes his eyes shut. It hadn't been easy to be an observant Mormon in Los Angeles, and he'd stopped observing a while ago, but he had nevertheless brought God with him in his heart. He lifts his prayer up, now, with the congregation, for God's abundant blessings over Carly and Mike and their new journey.
When the prayer's over, and the resident Holy Angels choir launches into "Love Divine, All Loves Excelling" David opens his eyes and looks into the amused eyes of Dave Cook, who has inexplicably gotten closer to David in the intervening few minutes and has moved away from his best man position, while David's head had been bowed. Why, clearly, Dave hadn't been praying at all! David frowns reflexively, and a corner of Dave's mouth curls up in a small smirk that manages to be both annoying and really rather hot. Under the smirk, Dave's bow tie looks like it's practically undoing itself.
David feels substantially warmer, and narrowly stops himself from tugging at his own bow tie. It really won't do if David starts coming undone as well.
*
Dave hopes he doesn't start swaying on his feet; it wouldn't do for the best man to keel over even before the vows are exchanged. Carly's Irish mom looks like she's capable of killing him, and so does Mike's mom, and they're right there in the front pew - with his luck, he'll end up faceplanting into their laps or something, thereby neatly facilitating the killing process.
Of course, Mike and Carly are so wrapped up in each other that the entire bridal party could faint dead away and they wouldn't notice. Mike's holding Carly's hand and gazing at her as if she's the only woman in the world, and Carly is gazing back. Dave watches them stare at each other during the reading from Song of Solomon, Mike cracking up, briefly, when his brother stumbles over, "Thy breasts are like twin deer/that feed among the lilies,", and Carly mouthing the words to "Thou art all fair, my love/There is no spot in thee". Goddamn, that last one...he feels his eyes sting, and rubs them surreptitiously with his thumb.
When the reading's over, the priest gets down to the serious business of the charge. "Carly and Michael, the covenant which you are about to make with each other is meant to be a beautiful and sacred expression of your love for each other. As you pledge your vows to each other, and as you commit your lives to each other, you should do so in all seriousness, and yet with a deep sense of joy; with the deep conviction that you are committing yourselves to a dynamic growing relationship of trust, mutual support, and caring love."
Dave hasn't been to church for years, and his memories of the wedding service come from cheesy romantic movies, so he wonders when they're going to get to the part where the priest asks, "If anyone knows why these two shall not be legally wed, speak now or forever hold your peace!" It takes a while before he realizes they've clearly edited that part out of the Episcopalian Order of Service. Too many practical jokers, probably; not like Dave was planning on anything so crass, of course.
He snaps to attention when the priest asks Mike, "Will you have this woman to be your wedded wife, to live together in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep only unto her, so long as you both shall live?"
"I will," his friend says, thickly.
Out of the corner of Dave's eye, he sees Brooke pull a preemptive tissue from her decolletage; it's a little distracting. But Carly doesn't need it, apparently, and her voice is steady when it's her turn to say, "I will."
"Please face each other," the priest tells Mike and Carly, and they do. Dave wonders whether he should have stashed tissue in his man-decolletage equivalent, because Mike is seriously about to cry.
Fortunately, though his voice becomes more and more unsteady, Mike manages to not forget his lines. Dave's glad, because these lines are such a killer; the traditional vows are just the best. "I, Michael, take you, Carly, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and this is my solemn vow."
Dave rubs his eye violently, wonders if Brooke would take it amiss if he reached into her dress for tissue. Probably not a good idea.
And now Carly's crying. Brooke hands over the tissue, and she dabs carefully under her veil. There's a loud blowing sound from Mike's mom, and the assorted Australians on the groom's side of the room.
When Carly finally composes herself, though, her voice rings out strong and sure. "I, Carly, take you, Michael, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and this is my solemn vow."
Dave figures that if he keeps looking at Carly, or at Mike, he's going to cry again himself, so he looks fixedly over at the front pew during Carly's vows. Not to his surprise, his gaze falls on David Archuleta, crying discreetly into a plaid handkerchief. David's nose is pink at the tip, his dark lashes are wet - it's a remarkably alluring sight, and Dave takes another step in David's direction, in order to get a closer look.
David sniffs loudly, and looks up into Dave's eyes; David's eyes widen, and then narrow. Busted, Dave thinks to himself, grinning. Hey, there's nothing wrong with looking. Especially now that Dave is a free agent again, damn it.
Not that Simon had had issues with jealousy; their problem was kind of the reverse situation. Dave should have realized that Simon's roving eye and need for variety would inevitably have landed him in their bed with someone else.
Unsurprisingly, Dave feels his palms itch - he'd better not have forgotten where he'd stashed his bottle of Jameson.
Belatedly, Dave pulls his gaze from David's and looks back towards the wedding ceremony, to find five pairs of expectant eyes trained on him.
"I said, does the best man have the rings?" says the priest, a little loudly; doubtless wondering why Dave's bow tie is slowly unraveling before his eyes.
Dave feels the time-honored spike of best-manly panic as he belatedly claps a hand to his jacket. You better not dick around, mate, Mike's warning glare tells him. Dave reaches into his jacket, and pulls out the Tiffany box, and as one, the wedding party heaves an audible sigh of relief; behind him, Dave can hear David cut loose with a similar sigh, too.
"You had me worried for a minute there," Mike mutters, as Dave steps in close and hands the rings to the priest. As the priest gives Carly's ring to Mike, and Mike takes her left hand, lifting it to the light, Dave sees she's sporting a new tattoo - Mike's name, in cursive, around her ring finger.
"In token and pledge of our constant faith and abiding love, with this ring, I thee wed," says Mike simply. "With my body, I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."
He slides the circle of gold onto her finger, over her ring tattoo. She's crying, Brooke's crying, Syesha and Shannon and even Kristy Lee are crying, Dave is biting his lip to keep from crying, there likely isn't a dry eye in the church.
Then it's Carly's turn, and Dave knows Mike has a matching tattoo on that finger with Carly's name on it. She smiles when she says, "With my body I thee worship," and when she slides the ring onto Mike's finger, Mike starts crying too; his face is so full of hope and love and tenderness, Dave can hardly look at him. There's a serious need for tissue at the front of the church, and Brooke's supply seems to have run out. Man, you'd have expected the priest to have some on hand for moments like this, but he looks pretty helpless as well - ah, crap -
- and yet again, it's David Archuleta to the rescue! Who'd have thought the kid would have an emergency pack of Kleenex stashed in his well-cut trousers? David hands tissues around, and waits for everyone to pull themselves together, including Dave himself.
The priest calls the bride's and groom's parents to step forward and assist in the candle lighting ceremony. As the bridesmaids rush forward to help Carly with her veil and skirts, Dave takes the opportunity to sidle closer to David, who's hovering on the far end, trying to stash used tissues in his pockets. Dave whispers out of the corner of his mouth, "Hey, nice save. Again!"
"These two are totally always going to cry," David whispers back, matter-of-factly. "And, as for you - " He takes a quick look around them as if to make sure they're not blocking anyone's view of the proceedings, which Dave, for some reason, finds adorable. Then he steps in close, and takes hold of Dave's bow tie purposefully. Dave's very conscious of the deft, warm fingers working under his chin.
"There," David mutters, finally, and takes a step back. He glares at Dave's jawline. "I'd like to see you work your way out of that!"
"Hey, I'm a certified escape artist," Dave says, a bit too loudly, before he can stop himself, and David turns scarlet to the roots of his hair. What do you know, the kid blushes as prettily as he cries. Ordinarily, Dave wouldn't make any effort to hide his interest, except he's not sure how old David is, and David has just spent the last couple of hours watching Dave drink himself silly over Dave's ex-boyfriend. He doesn't want David to think he's...indiscriminate, or something.
David looks like he's about to say something in response when the wedding party returns, and David scoots off to his seat. Dave scowls; the conversationis interruptus is kind of frustrating, but there's the very best reason for the interruption: the priest opens his arms wide and says, "Carly and Michael have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have pledged their faith each to the other, and have declared the same by joining hands and by giving and receiving rings. I pronounce them husband and wife, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder. Amen."
He pauses, theatrically, and then says to Mike, "You may now kiss the bride."
Not a moment too soon. Mike lifts Carly's veil, and bends her over, and Dave and David and the entire church bursts into cheering and applause.
...to be continued...
Go to FTDF Part 2