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Standing in the wings Cook could only marvel at how much the younger David had grown as a performer in the two years since they’d competed on American Idol. He thought back to David’s earliest performances on the show and how open he was – what did that show do to you? – and how much fun he appeared to be having while singing ‘Shop Around’. Then he thought about the final showdown when – come on be honest with yourself for once – he had not been paying as much attention to the younger man as he should have been. He stumbled on – yep keep on denying that you hunted them out – David’s performance from that night on youtube the other night and was horrified to see how nervous and tired David had looked. He remembered that he himself was tired and nervous – that’s not an excuse – but, having seen first hand how much more relaxed and supportive Kris and Adam had been the following year, he couldn’t help but wonder if he shouldn’t have made more of an effort.
He knew he’d made up for his lack of support since then – always in a brotherly way, never anything else, no matter what you want – and was sure that their relationship had gotten better and better. He’d been there for David through that fiasco with his father, he’d made sure to look out for and include David throughout the Idol tour, and he’d kept regular contact with the younger man since they’d reunited for the Manila Concert. What he was amazed about though was how much David had been there for him as well; starting at that concert, with David’s insistence that if he was going to sing DailyANthem he would be there on stage to support him. And ever since then if a week went by in which he didn’t contact David – a rare occurrence – he could be sure to receive a txt or a phone call.
He didn’t like to think how much that meant to him – far too much. He didn’t want to put more emphasis on those acts of friendship than was intended – he doesn’t feel the same way as you. He didn’t want to acknowledge the smile that he wore every time he talked to the younger man – it’s purely supportive. He didn’t want to remember how much he felt like something was missing from his life in that first year after the competition when they were out of contact – why did I let that happen? And in that moment, watching David perform on stage, he didn’t want to admit that David had grown into a highly attractive and very sexy adult – don’t even begin to think it.
It always amused him how people still tried to place them together in situations. Not that it mattered to him; he’d miss it if they didn’t. But their music had taken such different paths that he found it interesting how people still worked hard to connect them. With his rock and David’s increasingly dance based albums (the success of, and David’s love of performing, Zero Gravity had a lot to answer for) he though it was amusing to watch people turn themselves inside out attempting to find a link stronger than simply “they were on a show together 2 years ago”. MTV had created one of the better for tonight. Rather than place them together in some contrived manner they had decided he should present an award straight after David’s performance. So there he was, waiting to go on, watching his friend blow his latest single out of the water. Anyone who claimed that David was nothing more than an ‘aw shucks’ attitude and a good voice would have to severely alter their perceptions after this.
David had decided, although his newest single ‘Truth or Dare’ was an upbeat track with a fare amount of bass, that he was going to perform it slowed down, sat at a piano, with no band supporting him. Gone were the guitars and drums, gone was the synthesiser, and instead he had revealed the absolutely gorgeous melody that had been hiding underneath the effects the whole time. His voice was as strong and pure as it always had been – god how I love that voice – and his piano skills, while always good, had significantly improved. They now matched his singing for tone and quality. Cook would admit – if you really make me – that he was enraptured by the performance.
From his position at the side of the stage he noticed, before anyone in the audience, that the shirt David was wearing was not staying where it is supposed to. When he’d seen the younger man in it earlier he had been about crack a joke – you may look sexy as all fuck but are you a pirate? – about the amount of material on the arms and the low cut nature of the front. But David had taken one look at the expression on his face, known what was coming.
“Don’t! I know it's stupid but they think I need to experiment with my style.”
David had flailed his hands – adorably – gesturing to the shirt, as he’d expressed his distain for the outfit and Cook hadn’t had the heart to add to his very apparent discomfort. He had been angry on David’s behalf that he was being forced to wear something he wasn’t comfortable in – how dare the make him uncomfortable – but there was nothing he could do about it as at that moment David had been called to get into position on stage.
But as he stood watching he could see that the shirt was slowly but surely sliding down David’s right shoulder. It was the shoulder closest to the audience so he knew that it would soon be noticed by others. The weight of the sleeves and the low cut appeared to be combining to create the gravitational pull that was currently in effect. Looking up at the giant screen behind David, Cook could see from his facial expression that David was hyper aware of what was happening. Sure his singing hadn’t faltered – he’s far too professional for that – and he had continued to play unaltered but when he saw David’s shoulder shrug in an attempt to raise the offending garment he was fully aware that it was soon going to become a problem.
He knew how David’s mind worked. After years of performing, after working so hard to gain the respect – which he should have had from the moment everyone first heard him sing – David would not want to appear unprofessional and stop his performance for a wardrobe malfunction. Maybe he would were it during one of his concerts, but not on live TV and sure as hell not during the MTV Movie Awards. He knew David had worked too long and too hard to be taken seriously as an artist to let something like a faulty shirt get in his way. And without any sort of band supporting him, to stop playing the piano and fix the shirt would mean the entire performance would halt. Sure he could go it acapella but Cook had heard this song before – just admit that you have David’s albums on regular rotation on your IPod – and he knew there wasn’t a suitable moment to stop playing. So David continued to play and the shirt continued its decent.
He could hear mumblings in the audience as they began to realise what was happening. The sleeve had almost reached David’s elbow meaning that at least part of David’s chest, even more than the shirt already showed, would be exposed. If the was one thing he was sure about it was that David did not want his chest to be on show for the world to see. It always amused him how many clothes David insisted on wearing – too many – often covering up in two or three layers when not on stage and in a fully buttoned up shirt when performing. He again looked at the screen and could see the panic rising in David’s eyes. He was pretty sure no one else would notice it – no one else watches him quite as much as you do – but to him it was clear.
He didn’t really think before moving but suddenly he was on the stage. He grabbed the offending sleeve and pulled it back up David’s arm. He then grabbed the other side and held onto that as well. Holding them both up he placed his hands on David’s shoulders to keep the garment in place. From this close he could hear the slight waver in David’s voice that the sound system cancelled out. He could also hear the small sigh of relief that David let out in between lines when he realised that the shirt was now secure.
He saw David quickly glance over his shoulder to see who was – it will always be me – helping him. He saw recognition in his eyes before he turned back to the piano. Instantly David’s voice became stronger. He could swear – you're imagining it – that David leaned back into his touch a fraction.
Suddenly he didn’t care that he probably looked like an idiot standing there doing nothing apart from holding the stupid shirt up – where else would I be? He didn’t care if he looked over protective – fucking stylists should be shot. He didn’t even care if he had messed up MTV’s very carefully planned transition from the song into the next award – screw ‘em. Because in that moment he could think of nothing more than the shoulders under his hands; the way the muscles moved as the fingers danced across the keys.
As David made his way into the final verse Cook noticed David turn once again to look at him. Only this time David didn’t look away after a second – I could get lost in those eyes. He forgot about his ‘no adoring smiles on camera’ rule – its there for a reason you idiot – and grinned down at David. A shy smile answered his and opened up a whole new load of questions. He was almost sad when David looked away from him to enter the final few lines of the song.
After the song ended he felt David grab the middle of the shirt to keep it in place and he stepped away from the piano. He watched as David took in the audiences’ applause aware that he should make his way back off of the stage and to his entrance position. As he began to make a move he felt a hand grab his. Looking down at his hand he noticed the entwined fingers – well that’s unexpected. He looked back up at David, saw him gesturing to him and heard the audiences’ applause grow louder. He smiled at David and bathed – don’t do this to yourself – in the glow of the replying one.
David pulled him a little closer – keep breathing – so that they were standing side by side. He gave David a grin that he hoped was purely platonic. Suddenly David’s lips were pressed to his. It was brief and it was chaste but he was pretty sure he wasn’t imagining it. The lips moved from his lips to his ear.
“Thank you.”
He watched as David made a rapid exit from the stage, still clutching his shirt. Cook stood there – his lips were so soft – unable to think about what he should be doing. Eventually he became aware that the clapping had turned into cheering. He heard a loud wolf whistle and looked into the audience to see Adam Lambert with his lips pursed together. Kris Allen sat next to him , thigh to thigh, – I knew it – leading the cheers. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts he made his way over to the podium from which he was to present. His co-presenter, Megan Fox, entered the stage and joined him at the podium. She nudged his arm as she reached him and gestured to the side of the stage. Risking a glance he saw David standing there, frame covered by a jacket several sizes too large, alternating between looking embarrassed and euphoric. Next to him was Neal, his arm firmly round David’s shoulder, ginning manically at Cook and giving him a thumbs up. He turned back to the audience, and the teleprompter, read the first line and nearly laughed. Megan Fox wasn’t as restrained and did laugh. Breaking from the script she lent into the microphone in front of them.
“In what now seems like a redundant category we are here to present the award for Best Kiss.”