Cookleta Fic: False Starts and Man-to-Man Coverage

Title: False Starts and Man-to-Man Coverage
Author: celtic_cookie
Rating: PG? It's Archie POV. Pretty PG.
Pairing: David Cook/David Archuleta
Word Count: 17,529
Warnings: None?
Summary: David Archuleta discovers a few new interests at college. (AU)
Notes: I wrote this for orihara_kaoru who won me in the Charity Fic Auction this past summer and prompted me with "Cookleta College AU". It was SUPPOSED to be about 3k. UM LOL. I hope you like it, Andrea, and thanks for the SUPER prompt! Sorry it took so long, but it's kinda long! Super-huge thanks to my alpha and beta readers, including most of cookleta_etc for the arcade scene, but especially sophie_448 and thebiggest_lie. Super-huge love and hugs to waterofthemoon who corrected my insane grammar and punctuation issues, even though this isn't her fandom and this fic is a MONSTER. I LOVE YOU SARA. Thanks again to cookleta_etc for all the encouragement, especially when I really started to pull my hair out. I never could've done it without the Mavid Cheerleading Gif!
Disclaimer: I make ALL this up. I promise.


"What have I told you about the door?"

David looks up from his laptop and grins wide at Colton, who shakes his head as he throws his messenger bag in the general direction of his bed.

"Um, leave it open?"

"That's right." Colton flips his bangs out of his eyes and flops gracelessly into the butterfly chair crammed into the corner of their tiny room. "And why is that again, Mr. Archuleta?"

"Because if I don't, I will never even glimpse another human being?" Colton nods serenely as David sighs. "I go to class, you know. I have friends!"

"Me and Iraheta. And I'm still on the fence about her. Oh, and Efron." Colton sighs and shakes his head. "Three, David. That's three."

Colton's nice. David's pretty glad he ended up with a nice roommate, even if he snores a little and talks a lot and makes David do things like go to the Guys and Dolls tryouts with him and then try to make David get up there with him, which was so not happening in any way.

And Allison is cool, no matter what Colton thinks, even though David's still a little shocked sometimes that she's friends with him. She just sat right down next to him in their ecology class and started talking up a storm, and then it turned out that they were sitting next to their lab partners for the semester, so at least he didn't have to worry about that. He works out with Zac at the campus gym, although that kind of started the same way, with him grabbing the treadmill next to David and just striking up a conversation. It's not like he's a hermit, and he says so.

"You kind of are."

"Carly!"

It's hard living across the hall from their RA. Probably not for the same reasons that other college kids would think of, considering that David doesn't drink or do drugs or even consume caffeine. But when his roommate requires him to keep the door open, and resident life staff requires the same thing from Carly, who is older, gorgeous, Irish, brassy and tattooed and kind of protective of the freshmen on her hall, especially the one who can't stop looking like he's sixteen no matter how hard he tries—he tried to grow a beard during orientation, and that did not go well—life tends to include a lot of well-intentioned mothering that David totally doesn't need and shouting from across the hall about rugby or soccer or something. And sometimes he'll be singing along with his iTunes and look up to find her standing in his doorway with her arms crossed and a weird little smile on her face, and that's embarrassing.

"It's Friday night, David," she says with a really dangerous-looking little smile. "What's on the agenda?"

"Well." David clears his throat, knowing this is actually really lame. "There's a documentary about Sun Records on the History—"

"Stop, stop, stop." Carly waves a hand. "No, unacceptable. My friends' band is playing this party tonight, and you are driving me."

"Party?" Colton perks up a little at that.

"Not you, Berry," Carly dismisses him with a finger wagging. "I can trust David not to sneak rum into his Coke. I need a DD, and not to have to report my freshmen for underage drinking. I don't want to do the paperwork."

"Um," David chimes in uncertainly, "doesn't Brooke usually—"

"Brooke's on-duty tonight. Oh, come on, D, please?" She clasps her hands in front of her and bats her blue eyes at him. He twists his mouth as he waivers. "You don't want me to have to crash out on some stranger's lumpy couch, do you? Or worse."

David can imagine the "worse." Not from experience, but he watched Van Wilder over the summer at a friend's, and it was all pretty horrifying.

"Todd's going to be there, right?" he asks, trying to sound nonchalant. Carly's boyfriend is an apprentice tattoo artist, and David hadn't exactly known what to say to him at first. He also turned out to be a really nice guy, even if the holes in his ears are stretched out really wide and that would be one more person that he's at least met at this party.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, yes, he'll be there, and I promise you'll have a good time, David, this band is really good." Carly claps her hands and laughs, and the whole picture is a little like a really happy, Irish seal, and David laughs, too.

~

As it turns out, David's not entirely sure this is the best idea Carly has ever had. It still beats the time Zac decided they should try to race Robbie Williams, the school's starting running back, but only because it doesn't look like this is going to end with vomit. Well, not David vomiting, anyway. He's pretty sure these sorts of things usually do end in vomiting, sometimes in really unfortunate locations, at least according to the movies his parents don't really want him to watch. So maybe trying to outrun a pair of guys who routinely outpace human locomotives isn't really any better.

The living room, where the band is squashed into one corner, is beyond crowded. It's crammed with people, jostling and drinking, laughing and shouting to be heard over the stereo. Todd waves, towering over the room, and it turns out that he's managed to secure them a couch with only two other people on it, by standing on it. Carly gives him a kiss when they finally make it through the crush, and Todd grabs David's hand for a handshake/high-five hybrid thing.

"Dude, you made it!" he hollers, grinning. "Thanks for agreeing to take my girl home. I would, but I drove the band. None of them have a van."

"What kind of band doesn't have a van?" David asks. Carly and Todd both laugh, which makes David feel really good, even though he was honestly wondering. Todd hands Carly a red plastic cup and tugs them down onto the couch, where David actually has a pretty good view of the corner where a skinny guy with a mop of dark hair is unrolling cords and setting up microphones. Well, at least if he keeps leaning his head to peer between two girls' hips. The crowd of people is kind of towering over them now; it's hot and claustrophobic, and a girl spills her beer on his pants. She drops in front of him, apologizing, and Carly's laughing again and trying to mop him up with a really tiny napkin. David swears up and down that it's okay, although he really, really hopes they don't get pulled over on the way home because he's pretty sure he's going to smell like beer for the next week. He only makes it about three minutes and four people stepping on his feet after that before he's ready to flee.

"I'm going to go find a Sprite or something!" he says directly into Carly's ear.

She nods and hollers back,

"Stay away from anything purple, red, or that comes from a trash can! They call it Hunch Punch for a reason!" David nods to show he understands, even though he's not sure he does, and heads for the kitchen.

The kitchen is almost worse. Apparently, that's where the keg is. David nearly gets kicked in the face when a tall guy with both arms all the way tattooed—what did Todd say that was called? a full sleeve?— and two lip piercings that kind of make him look like he has fangs does a handstand on top of the keg and starts drinking beer directly from it. Ew. David spots several unopened cans of pineapple juice next to something violently red on the counter and skirts around the kitchen island to grab two. He ducks out what looks like a back door and finds himself on a tiny back stoop that is, thankfully, completely devoid of people.

~

David sighs and takes a seat on the porch next to the door, suddenly glad he'd fled the crush inside as the first chords of rock drift through the walls. He can't imagine how loud it must be inside, since he can hear pretty well out here. He sends a text to Carly to let her know where he is and that he hasn't accepted any drinks from strangers or anything, like he would, and then leans back against the wall of the house and stretches his legs out across the porch, letting his feet dangle off the edge as he pops his juice open.

The music, well, it maybe isn't exactly his thing, and he can't really understand the muffled lyrics, but the melodies carry perfectly. They really are good. David closes his eyes, takes a sip of the pilfered juice, and settles back to listen.

It could be ten minutes or thirty that David spends listening to muffled guitar chords and a rough, melodic voice that makes his fingers itch to get to a piano and write, but eventually, the music stops. David starts thinking that he should maybe go find Carly and Todd and he's just about to get up when the screen door opens not three inches from his head.

"Oh, hey." There's a tall shape blocking the yellow glow of the porch light. "Sorry, I didn't think anyone would be out here."

"Oh, there's not," David says, pulling his feet up to sit cross-legged. "I mean, it's just me."

"You're somebody," the guy says with a smile in his voice. Stepping carefully around David's feet, he sits on the top step, his back against the railing so he's facing David.

"Well, yeah," David stutters out. "But I mean, nobody else, just me. Which is, um, kind of why I came out here. It was a little crazy in there."

"Yeah," the guy says, still smiling. He has a nice smile with three days' worth of stubble around it. He's wearing black boots, which he props up on the bottom railing of the other side of the stairs, and he has a beer bottle in his hand. "Not your scene, huh?"

"Not really?" David laughs. "I drove a friend, and she said this band was really good."

"Oh, yeah?" the guy says. "They're okay." He holds out a hand, leaning across the porch to extend it to David. "I'm Dave."

"Oh." David shakes his hand, laughing a little. "Me, too. I mean, I'm David, too. My friend, Zac, calls me Dave sometimes? Archuleta, though. David Archuleta." The other David laughs with him and takes a sip out of his bottle.

"Cool, man. Hey, how do you feel about 'Archuleta'? This conversation isn't gonna get very far if I'm confused about the names. And the beer's not going to help." He waggles the bottle and grins.

"Um," David says. "It's kind of long. And I can't call you my name, either, even if I am drinking juice."

"Oh, you want something else?" Dave says, moving like he's going to get up.

"No, no, I'm good," David says. "Besides, I'm not twenty-one yet."

"Okay, then, no beer for you." He smirks a little, like he knows something David doesn't. But not in a mean way, just, well, just like it's a different kind of smile. "How about I call you Archie, and you can call me Cook; that way, everybody's good."

"Cook?" David asks. "Are you a chef?" Cook laughs, loud and surprising with his head tipped back and his mouth wide. Really, 'Cook' suits him, or David thinks so, anyway.

"No, man, it's my name. My last name. I'm a graphic design major, actually."

"Oh." David laughs again, a little nervously. "So, what did you think of the band?"

"You know." Cook shrugs. "They're cool. Why, what did you think?"

"Well," David says, gesturing a little with his free hand and gathering his thoughts with a deep breath. "I thought they were really good. I mean, I'm really more into like, John Mayer, Jason Mraz, stuff like that. But the guitarist and the vocalist were both really awesome. I mean, from what I could tell out here." He pauses for a second, but Cook makes a 'go on' kind of a motion with his beer bottle. "I really liked, um, I couldn't hear the lyrics, but the one with the guitar behind the chorus, you know, 'dah dah dah dah dah'." He imitates the guitar line, and Cook nods, leaning forward with his elbow propped on his knee. "But the one right after that? Um, it was too low, almost out of his range, just on the bridge, and a key change might, um—" David stops, realizing that he's completely babbling and hoping that Cook can't see him blushing in the dim light.

"You're right about that," Cook says, smiling as he leans back. "Remind me about it sometime so I remember to bring it up with Neal."

"What?" David asks. He feels a little like he's missed a step.

"And the 'dah dah dah' one is called Fall Back Into Me." David stares at him blankly, and Cook keeps talking, but none of it is really making sense. "Neal's the guitarist," he says, smiling around his beer. "And thanks for saying I was awesome, but don't tell him that. His head's big enough."

"What?" David says again, and then he laughs. "You're the singer?" Cook nods, and David buries his face in his hands "Oh my gosh, you tricked me!"

"I did," Cook says, leaning forward to pull his hands away from his face. His hand wraps around David's wrist, warm and large, and he's laughing, but not like he's laughing at David. David's laughing, too, and shaking his head. "And I'm sorry, but you were spot-on, dude!"

"That doesn't make me feel any better!" David says, still laughing a little breathlessly. He shakes Cook's hand away to cover his mouth as he grins. It kind of does, though.

~

After orientation, David slipped into a routine pretty quickly. Morning run with Zac, breakfast, class, lunch, class, study with Allison, dinner, put up with Colton and Carly, go to bed. That was pretty much it, with minor adjustments for weekends like going to the football games, which was a little terrifying but kind of fun, especially since he actually knew some of the guys out there on the field. Or going to movies with Allison, or holing up in a practice room with a piano in it for four hours, and sometimes— less often than he should, maybe—going to church. Those things happen on weekends, too. It's a pretty big school, but he mainly sees familiar faces on his routes between classes and never really notices any major differences.

At least, not until this weekend. It's Monday now, but he feels like he's seen Cook everywhere since Friday night.

Saturday was an away game, and Allison was at the salon with her RA, getting her really, really red hair highlighted with blue and purple all day, so David forced Colton out of bed before noon and took him for a morning run, since Zac was in Atlanta. Colton complained literally the entire way until he discovered the reason David and Zac ran five miles instead of three on game day; at the end of that five miles, there was an IHOP and Carly waiting with her car to take them back to the dorm. Cook had been keeping Carly company that morning instead of Todd, leaning over a steaming cup of coffee and grinning as Colton shoved David into the booth.

"Guys, this is Dave—” Carly said, but Cook interrupted with a sunny smile and a salute of his coffee mug.

"Just call me Cook. It's easier than 'Freshman David' and 'Senior David' or something." He went back to his crossword puzzle as the boys ordered plates piled with food, and he kicked his foot against David's as he stole a piece of Carly's bacon and grinned. David smiled back.

On Sunday afternoon, Allison dragged David down to the student union so she could get a cheese steak while they worked on their ecology homework. It turned out there was some kind of NFL party going on in the Rathskeller with groups in opposing jerseys clustered around the TVs. Cook was there in red and white, groaning as his team lost slowly and painfully to a bunch of guys in purple.

David had never been much of a sports fan until he'd made friends with Zac—or Zac had made friends with him, whatever—but he found himself checking the score on the big screen in between identifying invertebrates and describing the water cycle. Allison caught him at it once or twice and raised an eyebrow at him, but he just looked back down at the textbook and pretended he hadn't noticed.

Cook grinned wide at him and waved as the two of them got up to leave, but the game was nearly over, and he didn't come over to say hi or anything, so David just waved back. Allison bugged him about it for the rest of the night, which was dumb, because he told her who Cook was, and it didn't require eight million follow-up questions.

But still, it feels like Cook is everywhere now that David's actually met him. It feels nearly inevitable when an unexpected poke in his side makes him jump.

"Apparently, we've been class neighbors for a month, and I never noticed." Cook is strolling out of the computer lab next door to David's eleven a.m. freshman comp class, his hands full of papers.

"Oh, hey, Cook," David says with a smile. Cook smiles back, and then they're out the door and onto the quad in the sun. Cook says he wants to go bother Carly, and David's done with class for the day, so he suggests they walk back together so he can let Cook in the building, since he doesn't live there. "Or do you, and I, um, just missed you?"

"No," Cook says, pushing his sunglasses up his nose. "I live downtown with Neal. The guitarist? You might've seen him at the party? Big guy, two lip piercings?"

"Oh!" David remembers. "He was doing handstands on the keg. It was, uh, impressive."

"Sounds like Neal." Cook laughs, and he skips a step in his stride to avoid the crack in the sidewalk. David's not sure why he notices that, but he does. "He's not always—well, no, he's always like that. But he's a good roommate. A good friend."

A little small talk, mostly from Cook, fills the silence as David unlocks the door. They climb the stairs, and suddenly they're standing next to his open dorm room door. Colton is inside, pretending not to eavesdrop, which does not make David any less uncomfortable when Cook says coolly, "Hey, do you want to go out on Saturday? We could grab a pizza, see a movie."

The first thing that pops out of David's mouth is, "There's a game on Saturday," even though he hadn't really been consciously planning to go. It's just that Zac is his friend, and going to your friends' games is something friends do, especially when your friend is a sophomore starting wide receiver for a Top 15 school who still throws up before every game. Not that he's bulimic or anything. Zac just gets really nervous.

"Oh, are you going?" Cook's eyes light up. "Wow, you kind of didn't strike me as a football kind of guy."

"Oh, I'm not." David glances into his room, where Colton is practically vibrating with curiosity and pretending to be completely engrossed in Frankenstein. "It's just, my friend Zac sort of plays? So I like to go and, you know, support him. I've sort of looked up some of the rules, but it's kind of confusing."

"Well, I actually have really good seats this week. Right behind the band in the north end zone." Cook raises an eyebrow, and David kind of realizes it sounds like he was fishing, which he totally wasn't, he just was telling the truth! "You should come with me, and I'll explain it all. C'mon, Arch, it'll be fun." He smiles warm and wide, and David can't help smiling back.

"Oh, um, okay!"

"Great." Cook's hand squeezes tight around the back of David's neck, his thumb pressing into the side. "I'll buy you a big pretzel."

"See?" David grins at Colton, who shoots out of his desk chair to shut the door as soon as Cook is safely in Carly's room. "I can totally make new friends. I think I have more friends than you now, even."

"Okay, first, that cannot be true. It's completely impossible for you to have more friends than me." Colton presses his back against the closed door, eyes wide. "Secondly, do you even realize what just happened here?"

"Um?"

"You just scored a date with a really hot guy. A really hot senior, no less."

"Wait, what? No," David says, flapping his hands helplessly at Colton who continues to ramble.

"Okay, maybe not really hot. But definitely pretty hot. I mean, in that scruffy-grungy-rocker way."

"No, I mean." David puts up both hands in a 'stop' motion and sighs. "What? I'm not—I mean, he's not—"

"Oh, he totally is. Not gay, but bi, bi, bi all over the place. I've heard things." David sighs and he can’t seem to stop his hands from flailing all over the place again.

"Okay, but I'm—"

"Oh!" Colton gasps. "You mean you're not— - oh!" He starts flapping back at David frantically, and then it's just flapping for a second in complete confused panic in room number 314. David's not entirely sure what to do when Colton starts pulling him towards the door. "You have to tell him."

"What?"

"No, right now, tell him you didn't realize he was asking you out and that you thought it was a friends thing. Right now! Before this whole thing turns into some kind of farcical gay comedy romp. Just do it! Go!" Colton pushes him out the door and slams the door shut behind him. Cook is standing outside Carly's door, his hands shoved into his pockets and a sheepish grin on his face.

"So, um, I think—" David says.

"It's come to my attention," Cook starts. "Oh, go ahead."

"No, after you."

"Okay." Cook sighs. "So Carly informs me that you, well, you probably didn't realize that I was—ahem—that I was asking you out. On a date. So I just wanted to tell you that I was. Just to, you know, clear that up."

"Yeah, um." David laughs, a nervous, breathy 'ha, ha' that he'd always hated when he was younger. "I didn't, I mean, I didn't, yeah, get that." He shrugs, feeling his arms go wide in a helpless flail and immediately wants to die or crawl into a hole and never come out. "I kind of just thought I had, you know, made a new friend? Which is kind of an accomplishment. For me, I mean. I don't really—I mean I'm not really that good at making friends with, you know, people. I mean, Colton's my roommate, so he kind of has to talk to me, and Zac and Allison, she's the, uh, the redheaded girl from yesterday? They both started talking to me first, and I just thought, I don't know—"

"Whoa, whoa, Archie." Cook grins, holding both hands up. "Just because I made a mistake, read the situation wrong, that doesn't mean we can't be friends."

"We can still go to the game?"

"Totally." Cook gives him a gentle shove to the shoulder. "You cannot go here and not understand the rules of football. It's against the student code of conduct or something. And I'll even still spring for the soft pretzels."

Cook smiles as he backs away down the hallway. David grins back and waves before fleeing back into his dorm room.

"Oh my gosh." David sighs as he collapses into the chair in their room. "So embarrassing!"

"What happened?" Colton asks, leaning wide-eyed and eager over his desk.

"We are still going to the game. As friends. He says he has really good seats. So do you think Alli will want my ticket?"

"Did you just successfully navigate an awkward social situation all by yourself?"

"Guess so."

"Oh. honey, I'm so proud."

"You know, I'm a little awkward. I know that," David says a little forcefully. Whatever, it's annoying how everybody thinks he's completely socially retarded, and oh, he shouldn't think that word, it's really insensitive, but whatever, it's what everybody thinks. "I'm not completely stupid."

"Right."

"I'm not!"

~

David's never been to the Brick House because after the one home game they had, Allison wanted to hit Cooper's, which is always packed three deep with fans and alumni. They even met an ESPN writer while they were waiting for their table because he really wanted an interview with Zac. That didn't go over very well, considering it was after that 34-24 season opening loss in which Zac had dropped an easy pass and fumbled twice, and that was exactly how the reporter had phrased the question when he asked how Zac was feeling. Allison had turned purple, and David had dragged them away to the bar before anybody could start crying, either Zac or the reporter after Allison had finished with him.

But anyway, he's never ventured over to the other side of Main Street, where the Brick House sits above the Cellar, wafting the smell of pizza dough over the whole block. Cook managed to talk Allison into skipping Cooper's this week to hang out with him and his senior friends sometime around the third shaved ice. Before halftime, anyway. That was nice of him, inviting David and his friends along, and Colton had texted Zac to let him know to meet them there when he'd showered and finished listening to the coaches' speeches and answering reporters' questions.

"Dude, Efron is coming? You have to be kidding. I need to shake that kid's hand. That was a great run," Cook said before turning his attention back to the field, and David had felt cool for about ten seconds before he had to ask what a screen pass was. That had been really cool too, being able to ask, "But why are they moving back ten yards?" and finally getting a holding penalty explained in a way that he understood with a smile and a few hand motions but never any eye-rolling or exasperation. Well, not at David, anyway.

Cook had been really into it, hollering like all heck on the other team's third downs (which David can now identify!) and pumping his fist when they got pushed back twenty yards for three penalties in a row. And by the time there were two minutes left on the clock and they were down by six points, David had found himself pumping his own fist and yelling when Robbie had grabbed a really long pass and ran all the way to the ten yard line. Or, eleven, according to Cook, but David got really distracted when Tyler threw a pass that looked like a bullet straight into Zac's hands.

David bounced into the air as Zac dropped to his knees just inside the lines, and he didn't think he'd ever heard himself being quite that loud before. David came down laughing and reached up to high-five Cook with both hands. He hadn't even flinched when Cook had grabbed him into an enveloping hug just pressed his face into Cook's green sweatshirt and grinned as a sea of green and gold clad fans swarmed around them and down onto the field.

"Oh my gosh," David says, doing a happy little hop-skip up onto the curb as they cross Clayton Street towards Main. "That was so cool!"

"I know right?" Allison drawls from behind him. "I am going to laugh in the faces of all those people who left at the two-minute warning!" Cook laughs hard at that, throwing his head back and turning around to bump fists with her.

"Argh," he says as he turns back around, slinging an arm around David's neck and still chuckling. "First off, this is why you play for sixty minutes, grasshopper. Two minutes is an eternity in football, especially when you have three time-outs. Secondly—" Cook's grip tightens around David as he shakes him a little, and David laughs. "I can't believe you got the hero of the hour to come hang out with us instead of cruising Cooper's with his adoring fans!"

"Ha, ha," David laughs, poking Cook in the side to make him let go. "Well, I mean, it's not like I had to make him."

"Yeah," Colton says, coming up behind David with Allison as they cross Main. "He might be the guy who scored the winning touchdown, but y'all are seniors."

"Seniors who live off campus," Allison adds, eyes wide and laughing.

"Seniors who live off-campus with a band," David says. He blushes a little when Cook has to stop in the middle of Main Street to lean his hands on his knees because he's laughing so hard.

When they finally shoulder their way through the crowd on the sidewalk and through the door, David spots Cook's roommate sprawling in the large semi-circle booth tucked into the storefront window. He's hard to miss, really, with his red hair and tattoos.

"There," David says, pointing and practically yelling to be heard over the chatter in the restaurant. Allison takes one look, looks at Colton with her eyebrows raised, and scrambles to be the first one sliding into the booth. Colton rolls his eyes at David, who grins a little bit—even he knows what that look means on Allison—and waves Colton in next.

"Hi," Allison says, grinning. "I'm Allison." David catches Cook's eye as he slides in last next to Colton, and Cook snorts, threatening to break into laughter again. He pulls a chair up to the open side of the table and smirks at Neal.

"'Kay. Neal, this is Archie, Colton, and you've met Allison. Great table, man. You didn't have to leave early to get it, did you?"

"Yes," Neal hisses. "I did, you ungrateful bastard. I saw that motherfucking beautiful little prick catch that God-given T.D. on the fucking television over the bar. So next time, you can get the table, cockface."

David's face goes hot. He doesn't think he's ever heard anybody use that many swear words in a row before, even the time when Chuck Betts messed up his double flip in show choir and broke his tailbone. Cook blinks at Neal for a second, then reaches his hands over to cover David's ears, which makes him blush even harder before he's laughing and grabbing Cook's wrists to push him away.

"Neal, shh. Archie here says 'gosh' and 'dangit', okay, you're going to scare him!"

"Oh, gosh, I'm not scared," David insists as Cook slugs Neal in the arm. Then a minor scuffle breaks out, and he isn't sure what to do except laugh when Neal grabs Cook in a headlock, nearly dragging him out of his chair.

"Ow, goddammit, Neal!"

"Ha!" Abruptly released as the waitress walks up with a full pitcher of beer and two glasses, Cook grabs for it first, smiling winningly at Neal as he pours some into a glass.

"Best thing about living downtown," he says. "Everything is within walking distance." David orders a Sprite, and Cook puts in an order for a cheese and a deluxe, waving everyone away when they reach for their wallets. "You're my guests, guys. You can chip in next time, but I got this one."

"Aw, man, you need to invite your little friends more often if I get free pizza out of it."

The TV over the bar is playing ESPN, and they show Zac's catch about four times from every angle. By the third replay, Neal just drops his head into his hands and sighs as the whole place goes up in cheers.

"You know, Zac's—" David starts to say, but Cook interrupts him with a sideways smile.

"So, Neal, Archie is the guy I was telling you about," he says. "He gave me the suggestion about changing the bridge on, you know—"

"Huh, really?" Neal looks up, elbows still on the table. "Man, that key change really made Dave suck less." The whole table laughs at that, even David, who ducks his head as their waitress sets down two really massive pies. If Zac wasn't coming David would be a little worried about finishing off all the food. Watching Zac eat is kind of a horror show. Just then, David catches sight of a familiar mop of shaggy hair pushing through the door.

"Zac!" he calls out, waving, and Zac grins as he makes his way over. Cook stands, giving up the chair and getting his handshake in as he slides into the booth next to David. Neal gapes openly.

"Well, shit," he says, grinning. "That was a fucking fantastic catch."

~

Cook is very, very easy to like. They walk back from their neighboring morning classes together on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, usually stopping at the post office and the snack bar in the Rat on their way to David's dorm. On Wednesday, after David's night class, they catch Up at the dollar theater downtown, and Cook cries, which makes David feel about a million times better about his sniffling when they watched Finding Nemo in Carly's room on Sunday night.

Saturday is another home game, this time against the number nine team in their conference, which is apparently important. Neal grabs David outside the music library to invite him to the tailgate party at the condo he shares with Cook and Andy Skib, who David met briefly at lunch in the cafeteria on Tuesday.

"Since Dave is a giant chicken girly-man who doesn't want to, I don't know, corrupt you by exposing you to alcohol or something," he says carelessly, waving a hand. "Whatever, it's not like you'd drink it. So, anyway, I'm officially inviting you. Bring, like, chips or something."

Before he thinks about it, David says "I think it might be your corrupting influence he's worried about?" Neal blinks at him. "Oh, gosh, I didn't mean that I, like, think you're a bad person or anything—" he backpedals, but Neal is cracking up, howling right there in the Preston stairwell next to the vending machines.

"You're probably right," he says, sighing as he calms down. "But you should come anyway. You like dogs, right?"

David definitely likes Mr. Sixx, who nearly knocks him down with a wagging tail the size of a bullwhip—or, at least, it seems like it—and Dublin, who laps happily at his fingers. The tailgate party is really more like a barbecue that spills out of the condo's tiny backyard and out into the complex parking lot. Neal laughs when he sees David and Allison toting three grocery bags worth of chips and Cheetos and Doritos, and Cook gapes a little, since, apparently, Neal didn't tell him about the invitation. But Cook grabs him around the neck and grins, holds out a fist to Allison and tells her to "pound it," and just asks if they want hot dogs or hamburgers.

David discovers he's pretty good at Ultimate Frisbee, eats his weight in hot dogs, and meets the band's new drummer—a fellow freshman named Kyle— and promptly sprays him with his can of Sprite while he opens it. Kyle just laughs while David apologizes, and then he grabs the hose, and it's all downhill from there.

It doesn't matter much that his jeans are already wet and muddy, since the sky goes suddenly dark as they're walking over to the stadium, and a fitful drizzle starts as soon as they find their seats. David's just glad his green windbreaker has a hood when, four minutes into the first quarter, the skies suddenly open up, and it pours.

"No such thing in college football, Arch," Cook says when he asks about a rain delay, but David can barely hear him over the screams of the poncho-clad crowds filling the stadium and the rain against the concrete bleachers. Even David can tell they're absolutely crushing their opponents by the scoreboard, by the roars of the crowd, and by the way Cook's face crinkles as he grins and squints into the downpour. Late in the fourth quarter, he's shivering from the cold, and he can barely feel his feet inside his wet sneakers, but when Cook wraps an arm around his shoulders, he jumps a little bit. He'd been watching the offense, getting much more practiced at following the tiny brown ball from forever away.

"Let's get goin'," Cook says, and David puts his head to one side.

"I thought you play for sixty minutes," he says, poking Cook in the stomach of his sopping hoodie.

"Mathematically, there's no way they can catch us." There are raindrops rolling down Cook's face, but his grin is turned up bright and blinding, and David can't help but smile back.

On Tuesday night, Cook shows up at the dorm with Neal and Andy Skib, plus Andy's girlfriend, Jennie, specifically to drag Colton and David away from their textbooks. They grab Allison and Carly out of Carly's room and pack everybody into Cook's beat-up sedan and Neal's black Mustang. Seriously, is anyone on the planet cooler than Neal Tiemann? Maybe Cook.

Colton's the one who spots an old-fashioned arcade with Pac-Man and skeeball attached to the bowling alley, and he streaks over past the shoe rental booth, grinning like a maniac.

"Guys, check it out!" he calls out. "They have Nerdfighters! And Mortal Kombat!" David looks at Cook, who looks at Neal, who grins and claps Cook on the shoulder before heading for the quarter machine with a twenty dollar bill in his hand.

After that, it seems inevitable. David's never really liked the video games with guns, but Allison beats him soundly in skeeball best out of three before Andy Skib—whom David cannot stop thinking of as his full name, Andy Skib, it's fun to say, and he laughs and flicks his hair when David calls him that—grabs him and says,

"Hey, Archie, you like air hockey, right? I love air hockey, come on."

"Yeah," David says, ducking his head away from Andy's hand, which is attempting to ruffle his hair. "Air hockey is awesome."

David's actually really good at air hockey. They had a table at his church back home, for the youth group, and he's pretty sure Andy is expecting an easy win. It's about the time David scores his sixth goal in their second game that Andy starts laughing.

"You're a regular air hockey shark, aren't you, Archuleta?" he asks, laughing and tossing his mallet to Colton. "Dare you to beat him, Berry."

Colton's never one to back down on a dare, but he's really not very good at the game, and Carly's grabbing his mallet away quickly enough.

"All right," she says, leaning over the table. "A challenger appears! Let's do it, Dee!" Colton shoves four quarters into the slots, and suddenly, they're gathering a crowd.

Neal starts a pool, throwing down a ten on the side of the table and exclaiming,

"I got ten says he beats all of you fuckers. Except me." Cook throws a twenty on top of it, laughing and grabbing Neal around the neck in a headlock.

"I'll take that bet. I'll bet he beats you, too, loser. I'll bet he beats everybody. Well," he amends, holding a finger in the air. "I mean, except me."

"Don't you dare throw this game," Neal warns them, pointing a finger and glowering menacingly. David laughs as Cook takes his place at the other end of the table. Neal's just not that scary once you get to know him a little.

"I would never," Cook gasps, rolling up his sleeves, and he laughs when Neal shoves his shoulder.

"You so would."

"I would," Cook concedes, pointing across the table at David. "But Archie wouldn't. Go easy on me, hey, Arch?"

"No way," David laughs, shaking his head.

"Good," Cook says. "Best out of three?" David nods, and the game is on.

Cook is laughing and kind of gracious in defeat, even when he goes down two to seven in the second game.

"Man," he cries, putting the mallet down. "It is a crime for you to just slaughter everybody and then smile and say 'good game'." David blushes just a little because, well, that's exactly what he was going to say. Jennie and Allison are pooling their money by the side of the table and plotting to split the pot if either of them beat him. "Come on, Archie, exercise the fine art of trash talking."

"Oh, I don't," he says, waving a hand. "I mean I'm not really good at...hey." He trails off and then asks, just wondering out loud, "What happens to the money if I beat everybody?"

Everyone laughs, and Cook hoots out,

"See, there you go, you got it!"

"No, really, what happens?"

"Well," Neal says, flicking through the wad of bills in his hand. "Then I guess you win... sixty-three dollars and fifty cents."

"Hey, mine's on Jennie whupping his ass," Andy calls out.

"Noted," Neal says. "You've got to get through Allison, Jennie, and me first, though, boy wonder."

"No sweat," Cook says as he rounds the table. "Well, you, anyway. The girls might give him a little trouble."

Turns out that Cook's not wrong. Allison wins her first game, which David privately blames on all the people watching now. It's not just their group anymore. Strangers are starting to crowd around the table, and one of the arcade's employees has been conscripted into being the one to feed the quarters into the machine and dropping the puck. Carly puts money down on Allison, too, and Cook stands behind David, rubbing his shoulders like a boxing coach or something. Normally, that wouldn't make him feel any better, but it kind of does right now, and David puts away the next two games easily.

"Up to you now, girl." Allison exchanges a high-five with Jennie as they switch places. The first game is fast and furious, David winning narrowly with a final score of six to seven. Cook and Andy go back and forth the whole time, shouting abuse at each other and laughing on behalf of the two players. David raises an eyebrow at Jennie, and she just shakes her head. He shrugs back at her and proceeds to lose the second game by three. Neal's still taking bets, and the employee and Carly both put money down on Jennie, too. David's not really sure how gambling works, but it seems like Neal is keeping track of everything for now, and he's kind of starting to suspect Neal's hoping to get more in the pot and win it. He decides he needs to win this game, if only to save Neal from having to figure out how to split it all if Jennie wins, and he says so, quietly to Cook who throws his head back and laughs.

"Do it," he whispers back, and David does.

A groan goes up around them as David sinks the seventh point, but Jennie just turns his handshake into a hug before she passes the mallet off to Neal.

"Okay, Archuleta," Neal says, cocking an eyebrow. "You ready for this?"

"Don't worry about him," Cook says. "Just play. I got this." They're both in fine form as David wins the first game, Cook standing behind David and calling Neal every name under the sun. He bounces and smiles and shouts, and David misses an easy block, because he turns around to laugh at him. Cook grabs his shoulders and turns him back around, wrapping him up in a hug, his chin pressed against David's shoulder and an instruction to kick Neal's butt—well, Cook didn't say 'butt,' but whatever—whispered into his ear. David misses another block, but he wins the game.

"Oh my gosh," David exclaims as Neal hands him the stack of cash. "What do I do with all this? I don't gamble!"

"Pizza's on Archie!" Cook shouts, and then everybody's cheering, and David just laughs.

~

The Duke game is an away, and nobody expects anything other than a win. David watches anyway, on his laptop because it's not airing on TV. It takes him, like, fifteen minutes to get ESPN 360 to work properly, and he's pretty sure Firefox installed three or four plug-ins that were not actually necessary. But he gets to drop a casual comment about Robbie's carries into conversation at lunch, and Cook smiles at him and starts trying to explain BCS standings to him, with a lot of hand motions, animated and excited. He nudges David in the side with his elbow and smiles at him, wide and bright, and his eyes are soft when he does. So that works out.

They even manage to get work done sometimes. Cook's almost finished his graphic design major, and David's still trying to navigate the maze of freshman requirements, but they can sit together quietly with their respective textbooks and they do in the kitchen at the condo with Dublin skittering over the tile floor, begging for treats, and Mr. Sixx, who has taken a shine to David, lying heavy and warm over his bare feet. The deep thrum of muffled guitar chords drifts through the ceiling while Neal writes upstairs and Jennie and Andy squabble over Chinese takeout in the next room. Their laughter and the smell of moo shu pork make David gaze a little longingly at the door to the living room, but Cook's knee nudges against his.

"Hey," he says quietly. "How's Beowulf?"

"Um, old," David says without thinking. Cook sighs at him and gives him what David thinks is supposed to be a stern face. "Okay, okay. I'm reading. Look, see me reading."

"I see," Cooks says, nodding decisively and looking back down at his own book. "We're being productive."

"Does that mean we can play the guitars later?" David asks hopefully. Cook doesn't look up, but he can almost see the beginnings of a smile starting.

"Sure, Arch," he says, and yeah, that's definitely a smile in his voice. "We'll get a lesson in after dinner."

By the time the Boston game rolls around, nobody even asks about the tickets. It's a given that David sits with Cook.

~

Fast friends is a pretty good description, David thinks. It's not like they hang out all the time. He still goes running with Zac and eats lunch with Allison and throws things at Colton, and he was really, really sorry when that notebook hit him in the eye that time.

It's just that, when his phone vibrates and he sees 'Cook' across the screen, it makes him smile. Cook is... Cook is cool. Not in that, whatever, I'm so too cool way, but just because he likes people, and everybody likes him. Who wouldn't? Cook has cool tattoos and plays bass and guitar and drums and sings, and he wears silly t-shirts and, like, leather jackets. David's pretty sure he would look really weird if he tried to look as cool as Cook does.

And Cook is totally not cool, too. Which, David didn't even know that was possible, but Cook manages to be a complete dork who tells pirate jokes and talks like an SAT dictionary and also knows all the chords to that Van Halen song. He talks to Dublin like he's expecting an answer, and he talks to David like he's not the weird kid standing behind Zac Efron.

When David says something, Cook listens. He slowed down the bridge on the new untitled song he's writing with Neal because David said it sounded frantic, and Cook said, "Hmm, frenetic, I think is the word." He's pretty sure Cook's going to call it "Triumph" because David said it felt like running a race and winning. And when Cook smiles at him, over dinner or their books or because Zac just ran thirty-seven yards on that first down, his eyes crinkle at the corners. It's nice.

~

David saw Tara Thai on the corner of Third and Main weeks ago, but he hasn't had a chance to try it yet. So when Cook groans because Five Guys is closed after they leave the library kind of late, David looks across the street, and the lights are still glowing warmly through the windows at Tara. He looks back at Cook and cocks his head. Cook blows on his hands, rubs them together briskly in the cold, and shrugs.

"Okay, Arch. You like Thai food?"

"Oh, yeah," David says. "Do you?"

"Never tried it," Cook answers as he takes off across the street. "First time for everything. Besides, at least it'll be warm."

It is, and they pile coats, gloves, scarves, and hats into the booth before they sit. David orders tea for both of them, promising Cook up and down that he'll like it.

"Heck of a cold snap, huh, Archie?" Cook says as he looks down at the menu, and David smiles. A few weeks ago, Cook would've said—well, he wouldn't have said 'heck,' anyway. Then they're off, talking about the weather, Colton's Guys and Dolls performance next week, and what they're going to do over the weekend.

"What in the world," Cook says, turning the menu and pointing, "is num tok?"

"It's beef, Cook, it's really good."

David ends up ordering for both of them, and he gets Cook the num tok because Cook's really a beef kind of guy and just gets pad thai for himself. He picks up the conversation exactly where they left off when the waitress walks away.

"I don't know, Cook, I mean, a double feature is really kind of a lot of movie."

"You love Pixar!" This is true, but David shrugs and fiddles with his napkin. "Toy Story, man!"

"The mangled toys make me really sad," he says and looks up, fully expecting an eye-roll. But Cook's looking at him in a way David can't really define. He's smiling, kind of, but not like he's laughing, and his eyes are warm. He just looks happy. David smiles back because he kind of can't not, then looks down because he's not sure why, but he can't really look at Cook like that. It makes his chest feel weird.

"Okay," Cook says. "What did you want to see?"

"Um, Where the Wild Things Are looks good?"

"Hmm, no," Cook says, waving a hand. "I have it on good authority that I will bawl my eyes out at that. Jennie told me to bring a beach towel, and I really hate crying in movie theaters. I saw Love Actually with my first boyfriend, and I busted capillaries in my face, I cried so hard." David laughs a little, his brain kind of stuck on the word 'boyfriend.' He knew that Cook had, you know, had boyfriends, but he never really talks about them that way. Or a lot. At all, really. "I saw Marley and Me, and people in the theater were asking if I was okay."

"Is that why you were kind of, um, grumpy after we saw Up?" David asks. "Wait, Marley and Me? Isn't that about a dog? Why?"

"Yes, it was," Cook says. "Plus, that theater is crap. They have Red Vines instead of Twizzlers. As for Marley and Me, promise me you will never see it. It's two hours of blond people being really, really crappy pet parents, and then at the end, the dog dies."

"Aw!" David says before he can help himself. "Puppy!"

"I know, right? I can watch the end of Titanic, no problem. Old people, the band, I'll never let go, the whole thing. Fine. Old Yeller, Where the Red Fern Grows? No way, I bawl like a small child. I cannot handle 'the dog dies' movies."

The waitress comes back then, carrying two steaming bowls, and they're both quiet for a minute as they dig in.

"Mm," David says, swallowing quickly. "You know what I like to do when it gets cold like this?"

"What?" Cook asks around a mouthful of noodles. David makes a face at him, and Cook snorts a little.

"Um, Claudia and I make hot chocolate, and we all watch the Narnia movies."

"Hey, that sounds cool. I haven't had hot chocolate in a while." Cook's kind of shoveling his beef in like a maniac. "And I never saw the movies."

"Oh my gosh, really?"

Cook shrugs.

"I read the books. You know, when I was a kid. I remember not really liking the second one with the four kids, though. I think I stopped after that."

"Prince Caspian," David says, nodding. "You might like the movie better."

"Do we do both in one night?" Cook asks.

"Of course," David says, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

"I though a double feature was kind of a lot of movie," Cook shoots back, his eyes crinkling a little at the corners and kind of sparkling.

"Not when you can pause it for bathroom breaks, Cook, gosh." David sighs and rolls his eyes mockingly, grinning when Cook laughs and shakes his head.

"We'll pick up hot chocolate stuff on the way back," Cook says decisively. He points to his bowl. "And this is incredible, by the way."

There's a brief disagreement in the Kroger over marshmallows versus whipped cream, but Cook agrees wholeheartedly when David picks up cocoa powder and milk instead of the instant stuff. Cook picks up a tub of Cool Whip, and David grabs a bag of mini-marshmallows. The rush of cold air as the automatic doors open makes David glad he's wearing gloves. He wishes Cook was. Tiny, fretful snowflakes spiral down, coating the trees in a thin frost and wetting down the pavement.

"Oh, gosh," David says. "Maybe we should do this tomorrow night?"

"We're watching the game tomorrow night, you remember. Neal's making chili," Cook says as he turns his collar up against the cold.

"What if it starts snowing hard, how will you get home?" Cook waves a hand and then pulls him out the door and onto the sidewalk.

"It won't," he says. "It never really snows here before Thanksgiving. Well, it never really snows here, period. Not like it does back home, anyway. I'll walk. And if it gets really bad, I can crash out on Carly's couch."

"Okay," David says reluctantly. "If you're sure. And if Carly's, um, busy, Colton went home this weekend? I think he said something about a birthday, I don't know, he wasn't very specific. He was kind of stressed, what with play rehearsals and apparently this birthday thing. His sister, maybe, I think that's right." David waves a hand, a little flustered that he doesn't really know why he has the dorm room all to himself this weekend. He should really be a better listener. Colton's always talking about how important it is.

"Cool," Cook laughs. "See, I'm totally covered."

Carly's not busy, and it's totally cool with her if Cook sleeps on her couch.

"But only if you boys make me some cocoa, too," she says, smiling and wagging a finger at them. "I like my bribery in chocolate form."

"I'll remember that," David says, which makes Cook laugh for some reason. But they definitely bought enough milk and stuff to give Carly some, and she agrees with him that whipped cream is superior to the little marshmallows.

There's nowhere to sit comfortably to watch two movies in the dorm room, except David's bed. They steal a few of Colton's pillows and prop them up against the wall, creating a makeshift couch under the single window. Lucy's four steps into the snowy wood of Lantern Waste before Cook speaks.

"This is really nice, Arch."

David tears his eyes away from the screen—he's always liked the first sight of Mr. Tumnus—to smile at Cook and say,

"Yeah, and cheaper than Movieland."

"Remind me to tell you about the time Ryan and I got kicked out of that place.

"Okay," David says. "Later, shh." He's a little distracted through the lullaby and kidnapping scene, though, wondering who Ryan is and why he hasn't met them. He thought he'd met all of Cook's friends, or at least the important, close ones. That's pretty stupid, though, Cook's a senior; he's had years to make friends who could've finished school and moved away. Of course he hasn't met all of Cook's friends. That settled in his own mind, he turns his attention back to the movie, just in time to be deliciously creeped out by Jadis wrapping Edmund up in her fur mantle.

By the time they've finished their hot chocolate, both of them sipping slowly to make it last, Aslan's finished the witch off. David happens to look over as Peter hugs his newly-healed brother desperately, and Cook's eyes are shining in the flickering blue light of the screen. David looks back to the TV quickly, but he lays a hand gently on Cook's forearm, just above his wrist.

"Brothers," Cook whispers, like it explains everything. It doesn't, but David lets it go and watches the rest of the movie with his hand resting on top of Cook's.

As the credits roll, Cook hits mute on the remote and sits up, rearranging pillows that have gotten twisted. David looks at the clock, and somehow, it's only midnight. On a Friday night, the dorm is usually a hive of activity, people pouring out to parties or the movies, but outside the closed door of the dorm room, they haven't heard anyone laughing, chatting, or slamming doors. It's like the unexpected snow so early in the season has sent a hush over the building.

"Do you want to watch Caspian?" David asks quietly as Cook leans back a little to look through the blinds and out the window.

"Look, Arch," Cook says, low and quiet. "It's perfect out there."

David looks. The snow has stopped for now, and Cook's right, it's beautiful. The lawn outside is covered in the thinnest glittering frost, barely even enough to turn it white, and the concrete sidewalks are stained dark with water but clear of snow.

"Pretty," David says.

"My brother has brain cancer." It's so completely not anything David was expecting to hear that he gasps and turns away from the window. He stares at Cook for a second, and Cook's gazing out the window, his neck turned at an awkward angle and his breath fogging the glass. "I wish... I just wish I could give him a drop of medicine and make everything okay again."

"Of course you do," David breathes, and that's all that needs to be said before he grabs Cook around the shoulders and hugs him hard. Cook's hands press into his back, and his breath is warm on David's neck, even though his nose is cold from being pressed against the window. "Of course you do," David says again, adjusting his hold on Cook so that he can squeeze just a little tighter. He holds on, unwilling to let Cook go right this minute, and Cook grabs fistfuls of David's shirt, crinkling the fabric tight over his back. David's eyes slip closed as he holds on, and Cook still smells like snow and the fabric softener he borrowed last week. David feels a wet spot cooling in the collar of his shirt as Cook pulls away.

"David," Cook says, and David still has his eyes closed, but he can feel Cook moving, stopping inches away from David's face, his hand clenching warm and hard on David's shoulder. David opens his eyes as Cook moves his hand, trailing softly up David's neck to cup his jaw gently. His cheeks are still a little damp, his mouth serious, and his eyes look green in this light. Then they flutter closed as Cook leans forward, his lips parting slightly around a deep, hushed breath.

David knows what's happening. There's a lump of fear in his stomach, but his hand clenches around Cook's wrist, the instinct to pull him closer warring with the idea that he can't, there's no way, that he has to stop this now. Something in him breaks a little as he gasps, leans back, and gets up hurriedly.

"I, um," he stutters, untangling himself from the blanket he grabbed about the time Father Christmas showed up. "I have to—I need to go to the bathroom." He stares at Cook's bare feet as he says it, dangling off the side of his bed, and how was that ever a good idea? "Why don't you get Prince Caspian off the shelf?" He looks up and smiles uncertainly because he's not sure what else to do, and he thinks he catches a glimpse of Cook dropping his head into his hands as he races out the door.

The cold water David splashes on his face in the bathroom has an amazing effect. He stares at his reflection, his mouth—too wide and smiling usually, now thin and serious—and the wrinkles on his forehead as his brow furrows. This is no big deal. He takes a deep breath, resolving to go back to his room and act exactly like nothing happened.

"Because nothing did," he whispers to himself decisively. "Nothing happened. I didn't do anything wrong." He sort of suspects that his pastor wouldn't agree. He almost... he wanted to kiss Cook, and he knows his pastor wouldn't agree with his assessment. But temptation isn't sin, and David never wants to lose Cook. His gut clenches at the thought, so he sighs, flicks his hands dry because there are no paper towels again, and heads back down the hall to watch Prince Caspian sitting in the desk chair.

But when he gets to the room, Cook's boots aren't by the door, the door is open, and the room is empty.

Next