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He's going around saying hello to everyone when it happens. He's met all these people — briefly — but he's going to be around the majority of them for weeks, so he thinks it's best to get to know them sooner rather than later.
There are a few he knows well already — he hit it off with Johns, Menard, and Yeager at the Top 50. A couple of them are already well-known: Archuleta, Castro, Carly Smithson.
He's going in for a handshake with Archuleta, but the kid's looking at him with shocked, wide eyes.
"Uh, are you okay?" Cook asks.
"It's you," David says nonsensically, and then takes Cook's still-outstretched hand.
Cook blinks. "What?"
It turns out that David soul-bonded during Hollywood week, but with the craziness going on all around them, he didn't realize it until he started teleporting around once he got home. The Idol people have already been informed, in case it was someone who hadn't made the Top 24 and they needed to start hunting people down. But apparently that won't be necessary, because David has identified him as his bonded.
"Is this some kind of joke?" Cook asks, once Jeff Archuleta has finished explaining all this.
"Um. Hi."
Cook looks up from the bench on the roof where he is decidedly not freaking out, and of course, of course, it's David who's managed to find his hiding place. Fuck.
"Hey," Cook says.
David perches on the other end of the bench, keeping a good distance between them, for which Cook is supremely grateful. "I know this is... weird."
A short laugh that's just on the right side of hysteria escapes Cook's lips. "Weird? This is the most ridiculous situation I've ever heard of. A soul bond? You're sixteen, David. Why is everyone else so goddamn calm about this? Why is your dad okay with this? I'm twenty-five!"
"Um, well, I'm seventeen now, if that helps?" He must read from Cook's expression how very much it does not help, because he winces.
"It's not you, okay?" Cook says, because it's imperative that David understand that. "I just — I don't really believe in the soul-bonded thing. It's not for me."
"Oh," David says, and then after a moment's silence. "Okay."
Of course that's not the end of it. Though David himself seems understanding enough about his feelings on the matter, he's pretty much the only one.
Jeff corners him two hours after they return downstairs. He starts off sympathetic ("I know this is overwhelming. I remember when Lupe and I first bonded — the sudden onslaught of feelings and the enormity of the situation. But you just have to give it a chance and you'll realize that this is the best thing that could have ever happened to you. Our ceremony at the temple was—"), but when Cook persists in saying that he's not interested in participating in any soul bond, thank you very much, he gets a bit less patient.
"You represent my son's best chance for happiness and you have no right to take it away from him just because you don't like the idea of being bonded!"
"Your son is seventeen!" Cook retorts, trying to keep calm with limited success. "Do you really want him to be with a man eight years older than him? Is that what you want for your son? I don't understand why you're not just as upset by the whole thing as I am."
"The soul-bond is a blessing from God!" Jeff almost-but-not-quite shouts.
"Look, I understand that you're just trying to protect David from being hurt, but I'm not budging on this. I don't believe in soul bonds. It has nothing to do with him. I don't even know him, really."
"You could at least be open-minded about it and get to know him before dismissing the idea," Jeff grumbles, which is the easiest out Cook's likely to get from this conversation, so he takes it.
"I'll do my best," Cook says and makes his escape.
It doesn't end there, though. Somehow (possibly because of Jeff's yelling), word has gotten out so that literally everyone knows about the soul-bond situation. Multiple people have come up to him to share their own (or their second and third hand) stories of being soul-bonded, and how wonderful it is, and how he should really give it a chance. And many of the people who haven't been doing that have still been giving him these solemn looks, like they disapprove of his choices and they want him to know it.
It's driving Cook insane. He's on American Idol, for fuck's sake, and this soul-bond thing is completely eclipsing the whole experience.
And then, a few days before the first performance, it all stops. Cook doesn't know what happened, but he has a strong suspicion that David had something to do with it. Cook's not sure what he said to everybody, but he's grateful about it regardless.
Within a day or two of no longer having people give him a hard time, Cook finally starts to relax and focus on his American Idol journey.
That's not to say that he's forgotten about it, because that's not even a remote possibility. For one thing, though David hasn't so much as mentioned the bond since their brief conversation, he does seem to be around Cook more than would be strictly normal.
Cook would be annoyed at the way he's constantly hovering (and occasionally teleporting) about, but he's not generally bothering Cook, just sharing space. And actually, despite everything, Cook likes him. He's got surprisingly mature viewpoints on a lot of things and he's hilarious, though he doesn't seem to have the slightest idea why Cook finds him so funny.
Over time, Cook grows more comfortable with everyone around, David included. The close proximity and high stress have acted in concert to strengthen all of the contestants' bonds, so that within a week or two, he feels closer to these people than he does to many of his friends back home. And with no mention of the bond, Cook starts to treat David like everyone else, rather than the careful way they'd been interacting earlier.
In the end, it's Cook who brings up the bond next. Something's been nagging at him since this whole thing started. Soul-bonds are always mutual, but he hasn't developed any new mysterious ability since December. He can't hover or change the color of his hair or, or fucking teleport. Nothing has changed about him as far as he can tell.
"How do you know it's me?" he asks David one day.
"What?" David asks.
"I haven't got any unusual but generally fairly useless abilities," he says, using the official definition of what are colloquially referred to as soul-bond superpowers. "How do you know that it's me?"
"I just — I just do!" David says, looking a bit upset at the suggestion that he might have gotten this wrong.
Cook drops the subject, mostly because, somehow, he does too.
Cook is sleep-fogged when he wakes up at two in the morning to find that he isn't alone in his bed. The startle does little for his mood and when he sees that it's David in his bed, he's more than a little pissed off.
"David, what are you doing?" he says, shaking David's shoulder.
"What?" David says, confused. He sits up and looks around, furrowing his eyebrows. "This isn't my room."
"David, you can't do this," Cook says crossly, not really listening to him. "You can't just sneak into my bed like this! You need to respect my space."
"I didn't!" David protests. "I wouldn't do that! I don't — I must have teleported here!"
"In your sleep?" Cook asks incredulously. "Yeah, sure, okay. Just — look, I'm too tired to deal with this right now. Just go back to your room."
"Okay," David says quietly.
Cook waits until he's gone to flop down onto his mattress with a groan.
He's not avoiding David the next day, exactly, but he's not seeking him out either. It's not until Carly mentions that she found David asleep on a sofa this morning because he accidentally locked himself out of his room that Cook stops to think about what happened last night. Fully awake and less grouchy, he's forced to admit that David has so far been very good about boundaries.
He sits down next to David later that day. "Hey," he says.
"Hi," David says and smiles cautiously at him, which only makes Cook feel like more of an asshole.
"So you should have come back when you realized you couldn't get into your room," Cook says. "And I'm sorry for not believing you. I was startled and half-asleep."
"It's okay," David says easily. "I was pretty confused myself."
It happens again two nights later.
Cook shakes David awake and David pads out of the room without any complaint. This time, a minute after he leaves, there's a very hesitant knock on his door that David somehow manages to make apologetic.
Cook forces himself out of bed. David is standing there chewing on his lip. He looks adorable, barefoot in his T-shirt and striped pajama pants, something which Cook didn't notice when he was busy kicking David out of his room and that he wishes he wasn't noticing right now.
"Um. My room door is locked. Sorry."
Cook stands aside to let him in and then turns to take stock of the situation. For a moment, he's tempted to just let David sleep in his bed with him, but he thinks that would lead them down a dangerous path, so instead he starts to drag his comforter over to the sofa.
After a brief argument over who gets the bed (David wins by threatening to sleep on the floor if Cook won't get off the sofa), Cook's tucked into bed and David's tucked into his makeshift bed.
"Goodnight, Cook," David says sleepily. "Sorry about all this."
"Night, David," Cook replies and goes to sleep in moments.
The third time it happens, Cook says, "You really need to work on this."
"I'm trying!" David says over his shoulder as he heads for the door.
"Wait, how will you get into your room?" Cook asks right before he leaves.
"Oh, um. I started leaving it unlocked," David says sheepishly. "Goodnight!"
After his homerun with the Beatles in the Top 20, the producers give David the coveted last performance during the Top 12 Beatles week. That makes it even worse when he totally loses his head during the performance, not only forgetting the words but also losing track of the pitch here and there.
David is quiet the whole evening after the show, barely mustering up a smile for everybody who tries to console him, and he disappears soon after they get back to the hotel. Cook finds him on the roof.
"Hey," he says, sitting next to David.
"Hi."
Cook feels like he has to say something, but he doesn't know what. Everyone else has already said everything there is to say. Instead, he scoots closer and puts his arm around David's shoulders. After a moment, David leans his head against Cook.
They sit together in silence until David's ready to go back downstairs.
"Alright, Dave, what are you playing at?" Michael says later that week. Cook raises his eyebrows at him inquiringly. "I thought you weren't encouraging this bonded thing with Archie."
"I'm not!"
"Jesus, mate, have you seen yourself? You always have your hands on him."
"Of course I don't," Cook protests. "I treat him exactly like I treat everybody else!"
Michael doesn't say anything in response. He doesn't have to; his expression says it all.
Cook dismisses his concern, though. Now that the soul-bond fiasco has mostly blown over, Cook's free to treat David as he would any friend, which is exactly what he's been doing.
Although when he really forces himself to examine the issue, Cook isn't so naive that he thinks David's completely dropped the idea. He's always hanging around Cook, and though Cook is tempted to explain it away with the 'just friends' theory, he knows it's more than that. The way David always looks at him, soft and affectionate with just a touch of wonder, is more than enough evidence to the contrary. And Cook realizes with a start that he likes it, and that maybe he's been encouraging it.
Shit.
Later that evening, when David smiles at him and Cook unthinkingly puts a hand on his back, he freezes, catching himself in the act for once.
He does always have his hands on David, he realizes suddenly. He jerks his hand away abruptly enough that David turns to look at him inquiringly.
"You know, David," Cook says. "There have been a few cases of platonic soul-bonds."
David flinches immediately. "Yeah," he says, almost inaudible, and then, "I, um, I have to go."
He hightails it out of the room before Cook can come up with a way to smooth over the situation.
Over the next few days, David's interactions with him continue to be stilted and reserved. Cook's still trying to figure out what to do about the situation — he'd apologize but he's not even sure what exactly to apologize for. Finally, Cook corners him and asks if they can talk. David acquiesces, but he doesn't seem particularly enthusiastic about the idea. For several moments, they just sit on the couch in the break room in silence, both looking at the floor.
"When I said — what I said," Cook begins finally. "I didn't mean you and I—"
"It's okay, Cook," David interrupts, not meeting his eyes. "I know you're not interested in me and that's fine."
"It's not that," Cook says, laying a hand on David's arm. "I was just — I was a bit freaked out because I do like you."
"You do?" David asks, finally looking up at him.
"It's complicated, okay?" He draws in a frustrated breath and then lets it out slowly. "Look, David. If you weren't seventeen, then maybe — maybe when you're older, we can. I don't want to take away your chance at having flings and a normal teenage life."
"That's dumb," David says. "It's not my fault that I met you when I happened to be seventeen. I don't want those things and I wouldn't want them even if you weren't in the picture. I'm not that kind of person. But why shouldn't I have a chance at being in a stable, long-term relationship just because I'm young?"
Cook opens his mouth and then closes it again, thinking this over. What he's saying makes sense, though it still feels wrong to Cook in a way that he can't figure out how to articulate. Finally, he says,"I'll think about it, okay?"
"Okay," David says and the smile he directs at Cook slides like molasses down his spine, releasing all the tiny bits of tension that he hadn't realized he was carrying.
Cook throws an arm over his shoulder and squeezes him to his side, and he doesn't move even when Michael comes in and raises his eyebrows at him.
"Can you believe it? A real tour bus! Like actual artists!"
Cook smiles to himself as he listens to David talking to Jason. Some of them are being a little cooler about it than others, but they're all secretly feeling the way David is.
To celebrate getting to the tour, they all agree that they need an outing. After over a month in the Idol machine, they're all going a bit stir-crazy, so it's much needed.
They wind up at a local lounge that Michael knows about, where they can 'shoot a little pool, throw a couple darts, get a little hammered'. Cook worries that they might be recognized (and then immediately feels ridiculous), but it seems that people here are much too cool to be watching American Idol so nobody gives them any trouble.
And it's nice to just have a couple drinks and unwind, take a vacation from the insanity that is American Idol. Cook's over at the bar, admiring the bartender's technique as well as her tattoos. They chat a bit between her customers and Cook is not flirting with her, but when he glances up a little while later to see David looking sad — not upset, just sad — he inexplicably feels a wave of guilt wash over him.
He pays his tab disgustedly and crosses the room to drop grumpily into the seat next to David, startling him.
"Fine," he says. "We can go on one date."
The beaming smile he gets in response makes the grumpiness melt away despite his best efforts. Fuck. He's so easy for that goddamn smile. He musters up some more indignation. "You better pick me up and take me someplace nice," he grumbles.
"I will," David promises solemnly.
"Now we're going to play some pool. Come on, I'll teach you."
"Okay," David says agreeably, still smiling. "I know how to play."
And of course, it turns out that David is actually better than both Cook and Mike, because he's a goddamn prodigy at everything he does. Cook wishes he didn't find that a bit attractive.
Cook finishes his rehearsal at half-past-two and then goes back to his room to fuck around for a while, maybe catch a quick nap. David isn't coming to pick him up until 6 pm, so he has some time to kill, although he will have to spend some time getting ready. David is taking him to some super fancy restaurant — in hindsight, Cook should have realized that his own rather relaxed definition of a nice date was going to be very different from David's.
He's just changed into something more comfortable and he's moving to sit on the bed when Andrew calls.
Adam is in the hospital. He's had a seizure and passing-out spell and the doctors are trying to figure out if his tumor has expanded.
"He's stable for the moment and everything is fine," Andrew tells him, but Cook can hear the slight tremor in his little brother's voice.
"I'll keep you posted," Andrew says before ending the call.
"Fuck," Cook says aloud and drops his phone on the ground. He should be there. But he can't leave. Fuck.
He loses some time, then, sitting in a daze and thinking of his brother and hospitals and fucking cancer, and aching deep in his chest.
He's still sitting there when someone knocks on the door. Sluggishly, Cook raises his eyes to the clock. 6:03. Then he drags himself to the door.
"Sorry, I'm late," David says as he opens the door, and then pauses as he takes in the sight of Cook. He's wearing a suit and blue tie, looking rather dapper, and Cook passes a self-conscious hand over his face.
"I — I know I'm not ready, I—" he falls silent as David takes a step over the threshold into the room.
"Tell me," David says seriously, laying a hand on Cook's arm.
So Cook does.
In between shaky breaths, as David gently guides him to the sofa, he tells him about Adam's diagnosis, and about his past hospitalizations, and about how goddamn useless he feels here, and about the urge to just quit Idol and fly to Missouri.
David listens patiently, and when Cook starts to get choked up, he pulls him over so Cook can press his face to David's neck as he cries. He holds onto Cook, stroking his hair and letting him get it all out of his system.
And it feels so nice just to be held. Even when Cook's said all the words and cried all the tears, he stays close, comforted by the feel of David's steady breathing and his gentle ministrations. They stay like that for quite a while, until Cook feels steadier. Then he sits up and takes stock of the situation.
David is sitting sideways on the couch, back up against the armrest where his suit jacket's been discarded. Cook was stretched out along the length of the couch, his head on David's shoulder, though he's sitting up sideways now. As he looks back at David, David reaches out a hand and brushes it against Cook's cheek, his expression kind but not pitying. Cook coughs to cover his sudden flustered feeling.
"I'm gonna, uh," Cook says, gesturing in the direction of the bathroom. David nods easily and Cook makes his escape. He takes a moment, staring at himself in the mirror with his hands braced on the counter.
"Get it together," he murmurs to himself. He splashes some water on his face, takes a deep breath, and steps back out.
David's pulled off his tie and he looks up as Cook approaches.
"Pizza will be here in twenty minutes," he says, standing to meet him.
In the meantime, they watch Wheel of Fortune and Cook finally starts to feel like himself again as he teases David about his ridiculous guesses.
"Well, not all of us do crosswords all the time," David protests with a huff, but he's smiling.
Halfway through the pizza, Cook says, "I'm sorry about this, by the way. I know you had big plans for our date."
David waves a hand in front of him dismissively. "We have all the time in the world for dates," he says.
As much as Cook tries not to let it warm him, it does.
His phone lights up as David's putting the sole remaining slice of pizza in the fridge.
"It's Adam," Cook says, heart suddenly pounding again.
David makes to go toward the door. Cook reaches out a hand, silently beseeching, and David returns to his side.
As Adam's voice comes over the line, sounding the same as always, Cook feels tears welling up again.
He grabs David's hand, breathing harshly through his nose to maintain his control.
Between Adam's assurances that he's doing and feeling fine and David's fingers interwoven with his, Cook finally feels his anxiety receding. He manages a short laugh when Adam tells him that the best way for him to help would be to kick ass on Idol and give him something to be excited about.
"Yeah, yeah," Cook says. "What? I'm not the one in the hospital, Adam! Yes, I'm fine. No, I'm not alone. Uh. No. David is here with me. Yes, that David. Okay, I'm hanging up now. You're clearly fine, I don't know why I was so worried. Yeah, okay, love you too. Bye."
Cook exhales as he hangs up and turns toward David. "He's okay. He's probably going to be discharged in the morning."
"I'm so glad," David tells him earnestly. "I'll let you get some sleep now."
Cook walks him to the door. There, he pulls David into a tight, full-bodied hug. "Thanks, David," he murmurs into David's hair.
David squeezes him back. "Don't mention it."
For a moment as they pull apart slowly, when they're only half a foot apart, Cook's heart squeezes and he wants to pull David back into him, maybe even kiss him.
Then David steps back and the moment passes. "Goodnight, Cook," David says, and makes his way down the hall.
Cook watches him until he gets to his door and lets himself in.
The next day, when Cook arrives downstairs for breakfast and David looks up with a smile, Cook feels vaguely stupefied for a moment. It isn't anything unusual, but something about the way David was there for him last night is making Cook see him in a different light. Cook wrestles his wayward feelings down. He needs to get this under control. It's just a product of his heightened emotions because of Adam, that's all.
He was reluctant to let the Idol stylists cut his hair but he finally gives in the day before the Top 9 performances. He's not exactly a style expert, but he's pleasantly surprised by how much he likes the cut once it's done.
It's a bit less grungy rock'n'roll, a bit more polished Idol contestant, but, surprisingly, it suits him.
There are other advantages too.
David's coming down the hallway, eyes on his phone. Cook calls out, "Hey, David!"
"Hi!" David responds, and then looks up belatedly and takes Cook in.
He trips over nothing and Cook lunges forward to catch him. "Whoa, you okay?"
"I—" David's frozen, wide-eyed gaze should probably not be as gratifying as it is.
When David doesn't manage anything else in the next several seconds, Cook chuckles and gently sets him upright, before continuing down the hall with newfound confidence in his haircut.
He's greeted in the lounge by whoops and catcalls, but it's David's silent appreciation and surreptitious looks throughout the rest of the evening that stay with Cook all night.
"I, um. I like your haircut," David tells him the next night.
"Really," Cook says, amused.
David blushes hotly at his teasing tone, but he moves closer, meeting Cook's eyes brazenly. "Yeah."
They're so close. David's eyes are holding his with an intensity such that Cook can't look away. It's a relief when David's eyes flicker away, but then they move to his mouth and all the air leaves his lungs again.
Cook knows what David's going to do and he still hasn't decided how to respond. When David takes an audible breath and leans in, Cook is frozen. He's planning on gently pushing him back, but then he abruptly realizes that he doesn't really want to. He changes the movement, resting his palm on David's neck, and kisses him back. It's short and sweet and mind-blowing. When David draws back, Cook leans in for one more brief press of lips before he can help himself.
There's a rosy blush on David's cheeks and he looks a little dazed and God, Cook is fucked.
"Goodnight," he says quietly, and steps out of the room to regroup.
Cook keeps his distance from David the next day, partially because he can't so much as look at him without thinking of kissing him again, and he's still not sure that was a good idea. David, for his part, seems perfectly content to give him some space for the moment. Actually, he seems to have an uncanny sense of what Cook needs in general, which is another thought Cook sort of wishes he wasn't having.
This is a terrible idea, he reminds himself. David is seventeen. He's never been in a relationship before. He's grown up with the idealized version of the soul-bond that Mormons tend to believe in. And Cook knows better than most that a soul-bond doesn't actually mean anything. It's a recipe for disaster.
He can't stop thinking about it, though. All day, despite his best efforts to focus on the negatives of moving forward with this, his mind persists in drifting back to the feel of David's lips against his, and how the next time (even though there shouldn't be a next time), he'll draw David close and put a hand to his cheek and—
He's fucked.
He's still tossing and turning and thinking about the same things later that night, when David suddenly appears beside him.
Cook throws his arm over his face and groans into it.
"Um," David says, but before he can get anything else out, Cook rolls over on top of him and kisses him and kisses him and kisses him.
Finally, Cook pulls back to look at him. David is smiling so big, and Cook's heart lurches in his chest.
"Does this mean I don't have to leave?" David asks.
Cook rolls off of him. "Get out, Archuleta," he says, voice muffled by the arm once again thrown over his face.
David laughs and kisses him on the side of the head quickly before slipping out of the bed. Cook waits until he hears his bedroom door shut before he pulls his arm away to reveal his own smile.
"This is a terrible idea," Cook mutters between kisses a few days later. He's pressing David back against the cushions of the couch in the break room.
"Mmm," David responds, wriggling underneath him in a very distracting way.
"I mean it," Cook tells him, but David just puts a hand to his jaw and kisses him again. Cook goes with it for a couple minutes before drawing away again, ignoring David's protesting whine.
"David, we shouldn't be doing this."
David drops his head back onto the couch for several moments. Finally, he sits up. "Why are you freaking out?"
"This is a disaster waiting to happen. It's only a matter of time before it crashes and burns."
David frowns. "Soul-bonding is—"
"Soul-bonding is bullshit," Cook cuts him off sharply.
David just looks at him steadily and Cook draws in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Look. I don't want this to be a thing that we do because we think we're supposed to, or because it's destined or preordained or whatever. Think about it. We have nothing in common. We're totally different. Then this soul-bonding thing happens. So now you've got it in your head that it will work and that it's perfect and whatever, so you're pursuing it. But if it weren't for the soul-bond, you would never have even considered me!"
"Maybe I wouldn't have, at first," David says after a long pause. "But then I would have gotten to know you better and changed my mind. You like music and you treat everybody well and you make me laugh and you care about people. And those are all things that I like about you, soul-bond or not."
Cook stares at him for a moment, feeling overwhelmed.
"I don't care that you don't believe in soul-bonds," David continues. "But I don't understand why."
"My parents were soul-bonded," Cook tells him finally.
"Which ones?" David asks.
"No, my actual parents," Cook clarifies, and sees the moment that David understands what he's saying.
"They're married to other people now," David says, and it's not a question.
Cook nods jerkily. "People think that soul-bonds are the secret to magical, perfect relationships. And they think that because they're soul-bonded, they don't have to work at a relationship. But every relationship requires work, David."
David scoots closer to him. "So we'll work," he says, and takes Cook's hand, giving it a squeeze. "We'll make compromises."
"It's not that easy," Cook starts, but quiets when David squeezes his hand again.
"Work usually isn't. But that doesn't mean that it's impossible or that it's not worth it."
"Jesus," Cook says, realizing giddily that he's lost the argument. "How did you get so damn wise? You're like 17 going on 70."
David wrinkles his nose. "First compromise: we had the conversation you wanted to have so now you have to kiss me again."
Cook starts to laugh and leans in to oblige.
"I thought this was getting better!" Cook grumbles at David's back when David appears in his bed for the third night in a row.
"It was!" David retorts as he makes his way to the door.
His performance was over an hour ago at this point, but somehow, Cook feels just as giddy as he did when he was leaving the stage. There's a bustle of activity in the room backstage, with everyone talking excitedly and helping themselves to the food spread out along the side wall. Cook knows he should be focusing on the conversation he's having, but his eyes keep returning to where David and Adam are leaning against a back wall, talking.
"—so much pressure, trying to do a Mariah song justice, you know?" Syesha continues.
"Yeah, definitely," Cook says. "It's probably easier for the guys, without the direct comparison."
Carly walks up to join them, half-eaten éclair in hand, and while Syesha asks where she got the dessert, Cook looks over to the back again.
Adam is gesturing while he speaks, David nodding along, and something in Cook can't get over how natural it looks, how easily he could imagine the same conversation happening elsewhere. By the pool in the summer, his niece and nephew shrieking in the background, or maybe by the fireplace, a Christmas tree twinkling in the corner. His brother and his — and David.
"Look at that smile," Carly says and Cook hurriedly turns back to the girls to see them both laughing at him, expressions fond. "We'll leave you to your daydreaming. We're going to get more dessert."
Cook nods sheepishly. As they walk away, he turns again. He'll go join the conversation in a few minutes — he definitely wants to maximize his time with Adam while he's in town — but he just wants to soak in this warm feeling for a little bit. The smile returns to his face, unbidden.
Just then, David glances in his direction. His smile softens to something affectionate and intimate as he meets Cook's eyes. Adam looks over as well, a knowing smirk that promises merciless teasing forming on his face.
Cook wouldn't have it any other way.
David's halfway through singing "Think of Me" when he suddenly disappears from one side of the stage and reappears four feet to the left. Back in the lounge, watching on the screens, Cook groans and presses his face to his knees before looking back up. David hasn't missed a note. He's so wrapped up in the song, eyes closed, that he doesn't even notice the sudden whispers in the audience.
It's not until he finishes the song that he looks around confusedly. The judges, for their part, attempt to critique him without mentioning that he just fucking teleported on stage.
In hours, the headlines are full of it: DAVID ARCHULETA: SOUL-BONDED? and WHO IS DAVID ARCHULETA'S MYSTERIOUS BONDED? and GIRL COMES FORWARD, CLAIMS TO BE DAVID ARCHULETA'S BONDED.
David's really apologetic, which is ridiculous because it's not like he did it on purpose.
The practice room feels ten degrees too warm, or maybe that's just because David is on his lap, pressing him back against the piano with the force of his kisses. He can barely think as he runs his hands along David's thighs, pressed to the bench on either side of him, and then his back, bringing his fingers dangerously low before forcing himself to move them back up to David's shoulder blades, pulling him even closer.
It's getting harder to think and David's clothed erection is brushing against his own every time he shifts and part of Cook wants to wrap his hands around David's thighs and carry him to his bedroom or, hell, maybe the break room sofa will do, it's closer.
David seems to have something similar in mind, looking intently at Cook as he reaches for the collar of his t-shirt and starts to pull it up. Cook feels a rush of arousal but it's mingled with panic and he hurriedly grabs for David's hem to settle it back into place.
"No, we can't," Cook says. David lets out a long breath, eyes closing briefly and eyebrows furrowing. It's the third time this week that Cook's had to redirect him from some part of their clothing. He struggles to explain. "I don't think — it's just not a good time."
"Okay," David says, and Cook gathers David close to kiss the slight frown off of his face. By the time the allotted time for their "practice session" is up twenty minutes later, David seems mollified and Cook breathes easier as they walk out of the room, hand in hand.
Cook stirs long enough to see David slipping out the door and goes back to sleep with a smile on his face.
He's in his bedroom, rifling through shirts in the closet, when he hears a sharp intake of breath behind him. He turns and his mouth immediately goes dry.
David's clearly just gotten out of the shower — there are still beads of water glistening on his shoulders and the towel he's holding in his hands is the only thing protecting what little remains of his modesty.
For several frozen moments, Cook can't help but stare at the miles of skin: the curves of David's hip bones, the dark nubs of his nipples, the hint of muscles on his abdomen, the drops of water on his collarbones.
Then his eyes meet David's and David's stricken expression jerks him back to the present. He turns around to give David some privacy.
When he judges that David's had more than enough time to get the towel around his waist, he peeks over his shoulder. Sure enough, David is covered up, though he's hunched over, everything about his body language screaming his self-consciousness and mortification. In fact, his expression is so miserable that he almost looks ready to cry.
"David, it's okay," Cook says softly.
"It's not!" David bursts out. "It's not okay! Especially since you're not attracted to me and I didn't want you to see how skinny I am and–"
"Wait, what? Are you kidding?" Cook interrupts, thrown off and maybe even a bit pissed off, although he can't say at whom.
He moves forward, forgetting all his half-conceived plans to gently talk David down. When he reaches David, he grasps him by the upper arm and maneuvers him in front of the floor-length mirror attached to the dresser door, ignoring his noise of protest. Once there, he turns David around to face the mirror and crowds in close to him, so that his mouth is right beside David's ear.
"Do you have any idea what I see? And what it makes me want to do?" Cook asks, his voice low.
David doesn't say anything, just stares at Cook in the mirror, so Cook continues, "I want to suck on your hip bones. I want to touch every inch of you and figure out where you're most sensitive. I want to trace the path of every one of these goddamn water droplets with my tongue."
He punctuates the point by bending to lick a particularly prominent one off of David's shoulder. David gasps, and when Cook looks up, his eyes are dark, still fixed to Cook's, and his lips are parted. He's leaning back against Cook now so Cook presses his mouth to the shell of David's ear and murmurs, "I want to kiss your stomach. I want to slide my fingers down your back. I want to make you fall apart."
He continues in that vein until David's breathing hard, so focused on Cook that he's not even self-conscious about the way his towel is tenting. Cook pushes his hips forward so that David can feel his half-erection against the small of his back. "So don't you ever think that you're not attractive," he concludes.
They stare at one another in the mirror for several more seconds, before Cook says quietly, "I think it's time for you to go back to your room."
Instead, David twists in his arms to kiss him hungrily, his fingers clenching in his t-shirt. Cook kisses him back. God but he wants — he can imagine all of the things he's just described to David in perfect detail. It would be so easy to give in and tug David over to the bed and—
Cook breaks the kiss and takes a small step back, so that there's about a foot between them. He cups David's face in his hands and says firmly, "Go."
David looks like he might argue for an instant before he acquiesces, peeking outside to make sure the hallway is deserted before slipping out.
Cook turns and heads to the bathroom, already palming his cock, and the knowledge that David is probably doing the exact same thing right now brings him off in record time.
"It's not that I don't want to," Cook says when David sits him down the next day. "Believe me, I really want to."
"Then what's the problem?"
Cook wishes he could articulate it better, even to himself. "I feel like I'm taking advantage of you."
"Why?" David asks, still calm.
"You're so young, David. I know I keep saying it and I'm sure you're sick of hearing it but it's true!"
"Do you think I'm not mature enough?"
"No! It's not that, it's — it's about me, not you."
"It's not you, it's me?" David raises an eyebrow.
"It just feels wrong, like a line we shouldn't cross."
"Because I'm not eighteen yet?"
"No, it's not how old you are, exactly."
"But you said—"
Cook screws his eyes shut. "I know, but I can't really explain it. Just — give me a second."
Cook tries to untangle his emotions. David just watches him. "I'm afraid," he says finally.
David blinks, looking surprised. "Of what?"
"I'm afraid that you're going to look back and think that this was all a big mistake."
"But I won't—"
Cook shakes his head. "I'm not saying it makes sense, but something in my gut still feels like this is — temporary."
"Do you want it to be temporary?" David asks quietly.
"I don't, but I. If this doesn't work out, if I screw it up somehow – I just don't ever want to be something you regret."
They sit in silence for several seconds and then David presses close to him and kisses his cheek.
"I would never regret you, Cook." He raises his voice as Cook starts to speak again. "Even if, even if somehow we had, I don't know, a horrible breakup or whatever. I would still be glad that we had these good times together."
Cook swallows. Maybe the words should be reassuring, but they don't do anything to loosen the knot inside of him. Eventually he says quietly, "I'm just not ready yet."
David nods after a long moment. "Then we – we'll just wait until you are. Until you're sure."
Cook's still awake when the bed sags a few nights later. He keeps his eyes shut and listens to the rustling of David's sleepy realization that he's teleported again and that he has to walk back to his room now. Cook lies there for another few seconds, warring within himself, but when David sighs quietly and sits up, he opens his eyes.
David turns at his touch.
"Just for tonight," Cook tells him and tugs him into his arms.
Cook wakes up a few minutes before his alarm, like usual. David is still wound securely in his arms, his back warm against Cook's body. Cook stretches his legs a bit under the covers, content, and David rolls on his back to look at him.
"How long have you been up?" Cook asks, propping his head up on his hand.
"A while," David says.
"Just enjoying my company?" Cook teases, smiling down at him.
David touches Cook's chest lightly with his fingertips and says, simply, "Yeah."
Something in Cook's chest aches with how easy it is to wake up with David.
"I don't believe in God," Cook whispers. The confession feels heavy on his tongue and he braces himself for David's reaction.
For a long time — maybe a full minute — there's silence between them, and Cook waits for David to recoil, for him to say, "Um actually, maybe this won't work out," for this thing which was never supposed to become a thing to fall to pieces all around him.
Finally, David asks quietly, "Does it bother you that I do?"
"No!" Cook says, surprised. "Of course not! I — I like that about you, actually. It's — your faith is refreshing."
"Okay," David says decidedly. He turns and rests his head against Cook's arm.
"Okay?" Cook asks stupidly. Is that it?
"Yeah," David says and reaches down to entwine their fingers.
The rehearsals for the finale are exhausting, but they're also exciting because everybody's back. It feels like a weird family reunion.
At the end of the day, when they're heading back to the hotel, Cook sees David glancing in his direction as he climbs into the first van. There's only one more space in that van, though, and Cook hasn't seen Michael in weeks, so he just waves at David and climbs into the second van.
Twenty minutes later, their conversation is interrupted by the terrible sound of tires screeching. Cook looks up just in time to see the other van crash into a car that apparently pulled into the road without looking.
"Shit," Michael says from beside him, but Cook barely registers it as the world goes vaguely hazy around him.
"Cook, it's okay. It wasn't bad. He's fine, they're all fine. Look, it's okay. You need to breathe."
On some level, Cook registers Brooke's words and even the fact that he can see from here that the accident wasn't bad, barely more than a fender bender. That doesn't do much to stave off the panic that's overwhelming him, making it hard for him to focus on anything else.
As soon as they pull over, Cook's out of the van, running toward where everybody is standing beside the other van. He shoves through the small crowd none-too-politely until he finally gets to David.
"David—!"
"Cook, I'm fine!" David says, as Cook grasps him by the shoulders and looks him up and down.
"I'm fine," he repeats firmly and steps in close to wrap his arms around Cook, rubbing his hands up and down Cook's back soothingly. "You're shaking, Cook."
Cook pulls him in tighter, eyes stinging a little bit. "I was scared," he admits quietly.
Cook has tossed and turned and counted four hundred and fifty-eight fucking sheep and nothing is working. Despite how much he's been pestering David to get his teleportation under control, he finds himself wishing that David would appear tonight. The clock is blinking 1:53 am when he finally gives up and gets out of bed.
The hallway is silent as Cook creeps across the hall to David's room. He pauses by the door. Is he really doing this?
Apparently, he is.
David's door isn't locked — it never is — and Cook doesn't make a sound as he slips into the room. David is sound asleep, his back to the door.
He stirs when Cook climbs into bed behind him. "Cook?" he mumbles, his voice thick.
"Shh, go back to sleep," Cook murmurs, sliding an arm around his waist and tangling their feet together.
"Your feet are cold. And your hand. And your face," David says when Cook pressed his nose to the back of his neck, still sounding half-asleep.
"Sorry," Cook says, smiling. David makes a grumbling noise, but grabs Cook's forearm and holds onto it tightly like it's a teddy bear. All of the tension slips out of Cook in one shaky breath.
He kisses the back of David's ear and closes his eyes.
He wakes the instant the door opens and it only takes a split-second for him to place himself and scramble out of bed. He stands helplessly by the side of the bed, staring at Jeff in the doorway, who looks dumbfounded.
Cook chances a glance to the side to see David looking equally guilty, standing on the other side of the bed.
"Sorry," Jeff says awkwardly, and goes back out.
"Um," David says.
"Oh my God," Cook groans.
"I heard Daddy Archuleta caught you and Archie in bed together this morning!" is the first thing Michael says to him when he gets downstairs.
"The winner of American Idol Season 7 is... David—" Cook tightens his arm around David's shoulders. "Cook!"
Cook squeezes his eyes shut as the tears start and blindly pulls David into him. "I love you," he whispers into David's ear, even as David says breathlessly, "I'm so proud of you!"
"I'm about to kiss you," Cook says, and when David doesn't react, pulls back and kisses him onstage, heedless of the millions of people watching them.
And even though he's just won American Idol and a record deal and the chance of a lifetime, it feels like his real prize is right there in front of him.
"David Cook," the guy says from behind the video camera, "you've just become the newest American Idol! What are you going to do next?"
They've been prepped on how to answer this question, of course, but Cook fudges a little on purpose. He pulls David in close by the hand and says, "I'm taking my boyfriend to Disney World!"
David's eyes go wide. "Oh my gosh, really?"
Cook and the camera guy both start to laugh before David says, "Oh wait, I forgot about the commercial," in disappointed tones.
Cook pulls him close. "Of course we're going to Disney World," he tells David, just to see him smile.
They make him refilm the commercial video the regular way, but they end up using the original take — including David's reaction — in the actual commercial. Cook laughs and laughs and burns it to DVD despite David's protests.
(David gets his revenge about a month later, during the promised pre-tour Disney World trip. They're in line for Big Thunder Mountain Railroad and Cook is about to melt from the heat, when he suddenly hears a loud hissing sound and feels immediately cooler. David and several other people in line near them are all staring at him.
"What?" Cook asks, unnerved.
"Steam just came out of your ears," David manages and his lips are twitching.
"You have got to be kidding me," Cook groans, and that's how they find out that his elusive soul-bond superpower is the ability to let off extra heat. Via clouds of steam coming out of his ears like a fucking cartoon.
David literally cries he's laughing so hard and it's in the tabloids the next day.)
End.