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Fic: Things That Matter
Title: Things That Matter
Fandom: American Idol
Pairing: Cook/Archuleta
Rating: PG? Possibly even G?
Word Count: 754
Summary: Cook was no more capable of telling kids no than he was at telling Archie. That is to say, not at all.
Warnings: Self-indulgent kid!fic. Also, I claim no knowledge of either of the boys and I sure as heck don't know if Archie has a three-year-old cousin named "Miranda". Also, unbeta'd and my first fic in this fandom. Title from the Rascal Flatts song of the same name.
“I’m totally losing rock star cred for this,” Cook said, giving Archie a look.
Archie giggled from where he sat cross-legged on the bed surrounded with overflowing amounts pink and princesses. “Oh, my gosh, Cook. It’s not that bad.”
Cook gave him another look from his spot on the floor where Archie’s young cousin was playing with his hair. Cook had tried to deter her, tried to get her to play with Archie’s instead; he’d practically promised the small girl a pony. The wannabe beautician had only retorted that Cook’s hair was both longer and softer than Cousin David’s. Cook was convinced that all of this was overwhelming evidence which meant Archie had put her up to this. “She’s putting pink bows in my hair. Forget losing street cred, I think I’ve lost my masculinity.”
“If it bothers you so much, why don’t you just ask her to stop?” Archie asked innocently, knowing Cook was no more capable of telling kids ‘no’ than he was at telling Archie. That is to say, not at all. The topic of their conversation continued her work, completely obvious of the adults talking, trying to perfect her masterpiece.
Cook sighed. “You are so paying me back for this, I hope you know.”
“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean,” Archie answered, getting more comfortable on the bed, stretching out on his belly, watching his young cousin work.
“I hate you,” Cook lied before a sharp tug to his hair made him yelp.
“That’s not very nice, Cookie,” Miranda said over his shoulder, all the attitude a three-year-old could muster exuding from her offended posture.
Okay, Cook was really going to have to kill Archie for teaching the kid that name. Dammit, man, he’s a rock star, not a sugary dessert! “I didn’t really mean it, sweetheart,” Cook assured the miniature tyrant. After all, she had control of his hair, who knew what he’d look like if he really upset her; he seriously doubted pulling his hair was the worst she could do. “I was just playing with Cousin David, I promise. He knows I don’t really hate him. Say, honey, are you about done back there? I can’t wait to see what it looks like.”
“Almost!” The impish grin was audible in her voice again, mirrored by the one plastered across Archie’s face. Oh, this did not bode well for him, Cook knew. A few minutes later Cook was cheerfully proclaimed “Beautiful!” and told he could look.
He stood carefully, trying not to muss his hair (Lord knew what Miranda would do to him if he messed up all her hard work). He turned to the small, pink mirror hanging on the wall, half afraid to even glance at it. He told himself to stop being such a girl and forced himself to look and had to restrain himself from crying. Manly tears, of course.
“It…looks…stunning,” he lied to Miranda’s beaming face and, oh, he was so going to hell for that.
A flash caught Cook’s eye and he whirled to see Archie trying to hide his phone behind his back. Cook began to stalk towards Archie, who gave up trying to hide the phone and instead held it out in front of him like a weapon.
“I swear if you try to tickle me, I’ll hit send and you’ll have to explain to Johns why you have pink ribbons, butterfly clips, Hello Kitty and princesses in your hair,” Archie threatened, thumb hovering ominously over the ‘send’ button on his phone.
Sometimes Cook really missed the days before cell phones. He slumped in defeat, burying his face in his hands and, really, he should just be thankful Miranda hadn’t yet discovered the joys of makeup. “I really do hate you,” he mumbled when he looked up.
Archie smiled brilliantly, knowing he’d won and leaned in to give Cook a chaste kiss.
“Ewww!” came the shriek from around their waists. “They’re kissing again!” Miranda covered her eyes and made a face. “Kissing is yucky!”
Cook laughed, smile spreading across his face despite himself. “Let’s hope you still feel that way in about 10 years, kiddo.” He winked at the younger man.
Archie kissed him again before pulling back to admire his cousin’s handiwork again, playing idly with a piece of Cook’s hair, a beatific smile etched across his face. “I love you.”
“Yeah, yeah, I love you too,” Cook answered, figuring he should maybe lose some rocker cred everyday if it put that smile on Archie’s face.
Fandom: American Idol
Pairing: Cook/Archuleta
Rating: PG? Possibly even G?
Word Count: 754
Summary: Cook was no more capable of telling kids no than he was at telling Archie. That is to say, not at all.
Warnings: Self-indulgent kid!fic. Also, I claim no knowledge of either of the boys and I sure as heck don't know if Archie has a three-year-old cousin named "Miranda". Also, unbeta'd and my first fic in this fandom. Title from the Rascal Flatts song of the same name.
“I’m totally losing rock star cred for this,” Cook said, giving Archie a look.
Archie giggled from where he sat cross-legged on the bed surrounded with overflowing amounts pink and princesses. “Oh, my gosh, Cook. It’s not that bad.”
Cook gave him another look from his spot on the floor where Archie’s young cousin was playing with his hair. Cook had tried to deter her, tried to get her to play with Archie’s instead; he’d practically promised the small girl a pony. The wannabe beautician had only retorted that Cook’s hair was both longer and softer than Cousin David’s. Cook was convinced that all of this was overwhelming evidence which meant Archie had put her up to this. “She’s putting pink bows in my hair. Forget losing street cred, I think I’ve lost my masculinity.”
“If it bothers you so much, why don’t you just ask her to stop?” Archie asked innocently, knowing Cook was no more capable of telling kids ‘no’ than he was at telling Archie. That is to say, not at all. The topic of their conversation continued her work, completely obvious of the adults talking, trying to perfect her masterpiece.
Cook sighed. “You are so paying me back for this, I hope you know.”
“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean,” Archie answered, getting more comfortable on the bed, stretching out on his belly, watching his young cousin work.
“I hate you,” Cook lied before a sharp tug to his hair made him yelp.
“That’s not very nice, Cookie,” Miranda said over his shoulder, all the attitude a three-year-old could muster exuding from her offended posture.
Okay, Cook was really going to have to kill Archie for teaching the kid that name. Dammit, man, he’s a rock star, not a sugary dessert! “I didn’t really mean it, sweetheart,” Cook assured the miniature tyrant. After all, she had control of his hair, who knew what he’d look like if he really upset her; he seriously doubted pulling his hair was the worst she could do. “I was just playing with Cousin David, I promise. He knows I don’t really hate him. Say, honey, are you about done back there? I can’t wait to see what it looks like.”
“Almost!” The impish grin was audible in her voice again, mirrored by the one plastered across Archie’s face. Oh, this did not bode well for him, Cook knew. A few minutes later Cook was cheerfully proclaimed “Beautiful!” and told he could look.
He stood carefully, trying not to muss his hair (Lord knew what Miranda would do to him if he messed up all her hard work). He turned to the small, pink mirror hanging on the wall, half afraid to even glance at it. He told himself to stop being such a girl and forced himself to look and had to restrain himself from crying. Manly tears, of course.
“It…looks…stunning,” he lied to Miranda’s beaming face and, oh, he was so going to hell for that.
A flash caught Cook’s eye and he whirled to see Archie trying to hide his phone behind his back. Cook began to stalk towards Archie, who gave up trying to hide the phone and instead held it out in front of him like a weapon.
“I swear if you try to tickle me, I’ll hit send and you’ll have to explain to Johns why you have pink ribbons, butterfly clips, Hello Kitty and princesses in your hair,” Archie threatened, thumb hovering ominously over the ‘send’ button on his phone.
Sometimes Cook really missed the days before cell phones. He slumped in defeat, burying his face in his hands and, really, he should just be thankful Miranda hadn’t yet discovered the joys of makeup. “I really do hate you,” he mumbled when he looked up.
Archie smiled brilliantly, knowing he’d won and leaned in to give Cook a chaste kiss.
“Ewww!” came the shriek from around their waists. “They’re kissing again!” Miranda covered her eyes and made a face. “Kissing is yucky!”
Cook laughed, smile spreading across his face despite himself. “Let’s hope you still feel that way in about 10 years, kiddo.” He winked at the younger man.
Archie kissed him again before pulling back to admire his cousin’s handiwork again, playing idly with a piece of Cook’s hair, a beatific smile etched across his face. “I love you.”
“Yeah, yeah, I love you too,” Cook answered, figuring he should maybe lose some rocker cred everyday if it put that smile on Archie’s face.