Fic: Wishes, Chapter 1
May. 29th, 2009 03:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cloversworld
Title: Wishes, Chapter 1
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
clover71
Pairing: Cook/ Archie
Rating: PG
Description: This is the sequel to Regrets and its companion fic Sentiments
Summary: When Archie found out that the son he'd been raising wasn't gestated through surrogacy as he had believed but was naturally conceived, he concluded that Cook had an affair and made a rash decision to file for a divorce, leading his children caught up in a web of ugly consequences brought by the divorce process.
WARNING: Archie may appear to be a bit OOC in this chapter, but bear in mind this is written in Cook's POV. And Cook doesn't see everything.
Disclaimer:
1) Please note that this is purely fiction and none of the contents are real except for some of the characters used in this story.
2) Most characters used are based on real people but the details within do not purposely imply occurrences in real life; thus, anything here that concurs with real events may be completely coincidental.
3) This fic is created based solely on the imagination of the author and for non-profitable purpose.
Author's notes:
- This fic revolves around 'Sentiments' and 'Regrets' universe. So, it is advisable to read those fics first to understand this better.
- I know I have tons of WIPs that need to be worked on but my muse just refuses to sit still and help me through all the other series I've started. Instead, my muse pushed me to start working on this.
- Not beta'ed so this would naturally have tons of mistakes. This was written while I was at work, thus, I couldn't full concentrate on it. But this had to be written because the idea just flowed in on me.
- Following the format of its prequels, this story will be written in second person POV, alternating between Cook and Archie
Chapter 1
Cook's POV
~ start ~
He was pacing around the room when you walked in, after you’ve tucked your children to bed. “Archie,” you said, just to get his attention.
“Please Cook,” he didn’t spare you a glance, “Not now.” He went on with his chore, putting away some ironed clothes in the walk-in closet.
You couldn’t bear the silence. It was threatening to swallow you whole. It made the air around you seem too uncomfortable to breathe in. “David, please,” you begged, hoping he’d give in somehow because you knew well enough that if you don’t try to explain the situation, inappropriate thoughts would fill his head. “Baby, we have to talk.”
“Don’t,” his voice drifted from inside your spacious closet, barely audible but still… “I don’t want to talk right now, Cook.”
“But it’s not what you think,” you didn’t intend to raise your voice but somehow it came out higher and a bit louder than it should have and you sounded too defensive.
He stood by the closet door and looked at you impassively. “How would you know what I think? Huh, Cook?”
You wanted so much to walk over to him, wanted so much to pull him close so you could wrap your arms around him tightly and let him know that you were deeply sorry for your mistakes. You wanted to tell him that you love him. But somehow you had a feeling that he would only cower further inside his shell. Then it would be harder for you to reach him.
Instead, you sat on the edge of your bed, dropping heavily with a sigh. Then you rubbed your face with both hands. “Archie, please don’t do this. I want us to talk, not fight.”
Archie continued to stare at you blankly, his face deadpan, but you could sense his agitation. “I’m in no mood to fight either Cook. So can we please just… not talk.” He turned around and continued to rummage inside your closet.
He came out a little while later holding his favorite pillow and a blanket and went straight to your bedroom door.
“Where are you going?”
He stopped with his hand on the doorknob and mumbled, “The guest room.”
You sprang up on your feet and took careful steps toward him. “No David. You stay here. I’ll sleep in the guest room,” you said, thinking it was the right thing to do since you were the one at fault. At least, for Archie, you were. So he should be kicking you out of the room and not the other way around.
Without waiting for a response, you grabbed the blanket from his hand and stepped out of your room without a word. You paused for a moment after the door closed behind you and you heard his muffled sobs. He must've buried his face on the pillow he was holding. This made your heart wrench. The guilt burned inside you, knowing you were the one who brought him so much pain.
The guest room was cold and empty and the pillow in your arm wasn’t enough to replace Archie's warm and tender body. You longed to touch him, to feel his soft, smooth skin against your fingertips, to graze your hungry lips along his neck and shoulders. But that wasn’t happening tonight. And you fear that if things turn for the worse, that might never happen again.
Unpleasant thoughts were clogging your brain, fear seeped through your psyche. You couldn't breath, choked with worry of what could happen.
After several hours of tossing and turning and getting up to check on the children, you decided to focus on what you need to do and things you need to tell Archie. It was when a faint light began to pierce through the dark blanket across the sky that you unconsciously slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep. You were exhausted. Too exhausted that you didn’t have any energy left to dream.
Your eyes sprang open when you heard a shrill sound. You blinked for a while, letting your eyes adjust. The sunlight cut through the thin drapes that lazily hang against the guest room window and you caught a glimpse of the sky, now a mantle of blue and white and light gray. When you heard your son crying, you bolted right up and swung your legs over the edge of the bed then felt around for your slippers. You had to, test your legs, to see if they were strong enough to support your weight before pushing off the mattress. You made your way to the nursery.
The poor child was standing on his crib, gripping on its side and his tear-streaked face was almost red from all the crying. Ethan stretched his arms out as soon you walked into the room.
“Ssshh. Daddy’s here sweetie,” you cooed, bending over the crib and Ethan clung to you like a koala as soon as you picked him up.
“Papapapapapapa,” your son chanted. It was his usual way of letting you know he wanted his papa.
“We’ll go find Papa,” you told him, kissing Ethan on his cheek after wiping the tears away with your thumb.
Archie was in the kitchen, in front of the counter. He seemed to be focused on filling up the juicer with orange halves. You slowly crept up behind him, tentatively reached for his shoulder and yet, your hand landed on the small of his back instead. He jumped at the contact, obviously taken by surprise.
“Hey.” You weren’t exactly sure what to say because you honestly did not know what mood he was in that morning. “Good morning.”
Archie didn't respond, just stared at you, his face was oncer more impassive. You wished he would just lash out or yell at you the same way he had after you’d finally gotten rid of Brenda and the other party guests the night before. But after his outbursts, he just suddenly fell silent. And this left you wondering what was going through his unpredictable mind.
He twisted a little, and your hand fell away from where it was resting. “Didn’t you hear Ethan crying? He was calling for you.”
No words were uttered. His eyes shifted between you and Ethan. Then he pulled out something from his ear, which then made you realized he had earphones on and you could now hear the music blaring from his iPod through the tiny earpiece.
“Oh… I didn’t know Ethan was up,” Archie said, his voice quivered and sounded hoarse from all the crying. Turning his attention back to his task, he sank into the uncomfortable silence once more.
Sighing, you busied yourself setting Ethan down on his high chair while the child started chanting, “Papapapapa,” again, stretching his arms out to Archie’s direction.
Archie grabbed the baby’s trainer cup from the cabinet and poured a small amount of orange juice in it; then settled it on the high chair’s desk. He returned to the counter to grab a plate full of pancakes. After placing a piece on a baby bowl, he uttered, “Can you please cut this into small pieces for YOUR son?” handing the bowl to you. You took it and settled in a chair with a mug of coffee in your other hand. Archie walked out of the kitchen muttering, “I’ll go check on Karissa,” then he was gone.
You stared in space for a while, your eyes trained on the spot where Archie had disappeared. You certainly didn’t miss the way he’d said Ethan was 'your son' instead of 'our son'. You snapped out of your reverie when Ethan tried to stand up from his chair, reaching out for the piece of pancake that was sitting in front of you.
After that day, Archie was out of the house often, not even bothering to tell you where he was going like he used to. And whenever you ask where the fucking hell he’d been, he would just look at you and mutter, “None of your business,” which almost drove you insane.
This became a cycle, apparently. You still slept in the guest room for the following nights and you’d wake up to Ethan crying only to find Archie in the kitchen, oblivious to anything that was happening around him. He'd usually block out everything on purpose.
One morning you found him still in bed, his head buried under piles of pillows and that was when you assumed he was, in fact, ignoring Ethan’s cries. You thought it was too immature of him to ignore your son after finding out he wasn’t exactly conceived through surrogacy, but Archie didn’t know the entire story.
You were at the point of giving up because your husband continued to dismiss your attempts to explain what the hell happened between you and Brenda. There came a point when you could no longer hold back the frustration that was gnawing inside you so ended up yelling, “Fuck!” after he turned away from you. “What the hell is your problem?” you spat.
You didn’t mean to yell, but you weren’t exactly the most patient person in the world and it was too late to regret it because you must've hit a spot that made Archie burst.
“What the hell is my problem?” Archie started out calmly, but then his eyes flickered and his tone rose a decibel higher, “What the hell is my problem, Cook? Do I really need to elaborate? Are you too stupid to realize that my problem is YOU?”
“Don’t call me stupid!”
Archie's words pierced through your ego like a knife cutting through steel.
“Then why do you find a need to ask me what my problem is? Gosh, Cook, would you at least try putting yourself in my shoes for once?” Archie fumed, throwing his hands in the air.
“What are you saying? I’m not empathic enough to know how you feel?”
“That’s exactly what you’re showing right now,” were Archie’s retort.
“I’ve been trying to get you to talk to me for weeks. For two fucking weeks, David!” You were getting angrier, aggravated by what had happened and all you wanted at that moment was for Archie to listen and give you a chance to explain the ‘Brenda’ situation.
“What is there to talk about Cook? Huh?” Archie's eyes bore into you and you could tell that he wouldn’t back down, not a chance. “I think I’ve heard enough already.”
“I haven’t even said a thing!” This was so frustrating. You could feel the pressure of the confrontation on the back of your head, creeping to the sides like vines that coiled around every thread of your conscious thoughts.
“Everything that Brenda said was enough.” Archie turned away, “I don’t want to hear anything more.”
You could hear your heartbeat echoing in your ears. “You only heard her side of the story!” You weren't done talking, you just had to make a point. “Why won’t you listen to what I have to say?”
Archie dropped his head, eyes fixed on the floor. “Because...” His breath hitched a little; then he breathed in deeply before blurting out, “Because I don’t think I have enough strength left to hear what you have to say.” Archie’s voice turned soft and he spoke almost in a whisper.
You wanted so much to gather him in your arms, but Archie disappeared somewhere in the house while you stood there flabbergasted.
That night, you settled on the guest room, as usual, and sleep eluded you once more. It was a cycle indeed. You fell asleep at an ungodly hour only to wake up a few hours later to your son’s cries. You carried Ethan to the kitchen but Archie wasn’t around and there were no signs that he’d been down there. So you brought your son to the masters’ bedroom, presuming Archie was still asleep, probably buried underneath a thick comforter and about half a dozen pillows.
What you saw wasn’t exactly what you expected. Your heart thumped wildly and the room started to spin. Tears welled up in your eyes but they wouldn’t fall. You couldn't see clearly, your vision blurry while you read the note you found on the bed.
Dave,
I'm lost, not knowing how to deal with our situation anymore. I think it’s best if we part ways for now. I’ve taken Karissa with me. I’m so sorry I’ve been ignoring Ethan lately, I know how immature I’ve been, but please know that I love him just the same. Everything that's happening is just too much for me to handle right now.
Take care of yourself and Ethan.
David
~ tbc ~
=========================================================
Comments will be greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading.
Author:
clover71Pairing: Cook/ Archie
Rating: PG
Description: This is the sequel to Regrets and its companion fic Sentiments
Summary: When Archie found out that the son he'd been raising wasn't gestated through surrogacy as he had believed but was naturally conceived, he concluded that Cook had an affair and made a rash decision to file for a divorce, leading his children caught up in a web of ugly consequences brought by the divorce process.
WARNING: Archie may appear to be a bit OOC in this chapter, but bear in mind this is written in Cook's POV. And Cook doesn't see everything.
Disclaimer:
1) Please note that this is purely fiction and none of the contents are real except for some of the characters used in this story.
2) Most characters used are based on real people but the details within do not purposely imply occurrences in real life; thus, anything here that concurs with real events may be completely coincidental.
3) This fic is created based solely on the imagination of the author and for non-profitable purpose.
Author's notes:
- This fic revolves around 'Sentiments' and 'Regrets' universe. So, it is advisable to read those fics first to understand this better.
- I know I have tons of WIPs that need to be worked on but my muse just refuses to sit still and help me through all the other series I've started. Instead, my muse pushed me to start working on this.
- Not beta'ed so this would naturally have tons of mistakes. This was written while I was at work, thus, I couldn't full concentrate on it. But this had to be written because the idea just flowed in on me.
- Following the format of its prequels, this story will be written in second person POV, alternating between Cook and Archie
Chapter 1
Cook's POV
~ start ~
He was pacing around the room when you walked in, after you’ve tucked your children to bed. “Archie,” you said, just to get his attention.
“Please Cook,” he didn’t spare you a glance, “Not now.” He went on with his chore, putting away some ironed clothes in the walk-in closet.
You couldn’t bear the silence. It was threatening to swallow you whole. It made the air around you seem too uncomfortable to breathe in. “David, please,” you begged, hoping he’d give in somehow because you knew well enough that if you don’t try to explain the situation, inappropriate thoughts would fill his head. “Baby, we have to talk.”
“Don’t,” his voice drifted from inside your spacious closet, barely audible but still… “I don’t want to talk right now, Cook.”
“But it’s not what you think,” you didn’t intend to raise your voice but somehow it came out higher and a bit louder than it should have and you sounded too defensive.
He stood by the closet door and looked at you impassively. “How would you know what I think? Huh, Cook?”
You wanted so much to walk over to him, wanted so much to pull him close so you could wrap your arms around him tightly and let him know that you were deeply sorry for your mistakes. You wanted to tell him that you love him. But somehow you had a feeling that he would only cower further inside his shell. Then it would be harder for you to reach him.
Instead, you sat on the edge of your bed, dropping heavily with a sigh. Then you rubbed your face with both hands. “Archie, please don’t do this. I want us to talk, not fight.”
Archie continued to stare at you blankly, his face deadpan, but you could sense his agitation. “I’m in no mood to fight either Cook. So can we please just… not talk.” He turned around and continued to rummage inside your closet.
He came out a little while later holding his favorite pillow and a blanket and went straight to your bedroom door.
“Where are you going?”
He stopped with his hand on the doorknob and mumbled, “The guest room.”
You sprang up on your feet and took careful steps toward him. “No David. You stay here. I’ll sleep in the guest room,” you said, thinking it was the right thing to do since you were the one at fault. At least, for Archie, you were. So he should be kicking you out of the room and not the other way around.
Without waiting for a response, you grabbed the blanket from his hand and stepped out of your room without a word. You paused for a moment after the door closed behind you and you heard his muffled sobs. He must've buried his face on the pillow he was holding. This made your heart wrench. The guilt burned inside you, knowing you were the one who brought him so much pain.
The guest room was cold and empty and the pillow in your arm wasn’t enough to replace Archie's warm and tender body. You longed to touch him, to feel his soft, smooth skin against your fingertips, to graze your hungry lips along his neck and shoulders. But that wasn’t happening tonight. And you fear that if things turn for the worse, that might never happen again.
Unpleasant thoughts were clogging your brain, fear seeped through your psyche. You couldn't breath, choked with worry of what could happen.
After several hours of tossing and turning and getting up to check on the children, you decided to focus on what you need to do and things you need to tell Archie. It was when a faint light began to pierce through the dark blanket across the sky that you unconsciously slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep. You were exhausted. Too exhausted that you didn’t have any energy left to dream.
Your eyes sprang open when you heard a shrill sound. You blinked for a while, letting your eyes adjust. The sunlight cut through the thin drapes that lazily hang against the guest room window and you caught a glimpse of the sky, now a mantle of blue and white and light gray. When you heard your son crying, you bolted right up and swung your legs over the edge of the bed then felt around for your slippers. You had to, test your legs, to see if they were strong enough to support your weight before pushing off the mattress. You made your way to the nursery.
The poor child was standing on his crib, gripping on its side and his tear-streaked face was almost red from all the crying. Ethan stretched his arms out as soon you walked into the room.
“Ssshh. Daddy’s here sweetie,” you cooed, bending over the crib and Ethan clung to you like a koala as soon as you picked him up.
“Papapapapapapa,” your son chanted. It was his usual way of letting you know he wanted his papa.
“We’ll go find Papa,” you told him, kissing Ethan on his cheek after wiping the tears away with your thumb.
Archie was in the kitchen, in front of the counter. He seemed to be focused on filling up the juicer with orange halves. You slowly crept up behind him, tentatively reached for his shoulder and yet, your hand landed on the small of his back instead. He jumped at the contact, obviously taken by surprise.
“Hey.” You weren’t exactly sure what to say because you honestly did not know what mood he was in that morning. “Good morning.”
Archie didn't respond, just stared at you, his face was oncer more impassive. You wished he would just lash out or yell at you the same way he had after you’d finally gotten rid of Brenda and the other party guests the night before. But after his outbursts, he just suddenly fell silent. And this left you wondering what was going through his unpredictable mind.
He twisted a little, and your hand fell away from where it was resting. “Didn’t you hear Ethan crying? He was calling for you.”
No words were uttered. His eyes shifted between you and Ethan. Then he pulled out something from his ear, which then made you realized he had earphones on and you could now hear the music blaring from his iPod through the tiny earpiece.
“Oh… I didn’t know Ethan was up,” Archie said, his voice quivered and sounded hoarse from all the crying. Turning his attention back to his task, he sank into the uncomfortable silence once more.
Sighing, you busied yourself setting Ethan down on his high chair while the child started chanting, “Papapapapa,” again, stretching his arms out to Archie’s direction.
Archie grabbed the baby’s trainer cup from the cabinet and poured a small amount of orange juice in it; then settled it on the high chair’s desk. He returned to the counter to grab a plate full of pancakes. After placing a piece on a baby bowl, he uttered, “Can you please cut this into small pieces for YOUR son?” handing the bowl to you. You took it and settled in a chair with a mug of coffee in your other hand. Archie walked out of the kitchen muttering, “I’ll go check on Karissa,” then he was gone.
You stared in space for a while, your eyes trained on the spot where Archie had disappeared. You certainly didn’t miss the way he’d said Ethan was 'your son' instead of 'our son'. You snapped out of your reverie when Ethan tried to stand up from his chair, reaching out for the piece of pancake that was sitting in front of you.
After that day, Archie was out of the house often, not even bothering to tell you where he was going like he used to. And whenever you ask where the fucking hell he’d been, he would just look at you and mutter, “None of your business,” which almost drove you insane.
This became a cycle, apparently. You still slept in the guest room for the following nights and you’d wake up to Ethan crying only to find Archie in the kitchen, oblivious to anything that was happening around him. He'd usually block out everything on purpose.
One morning you found him still in bed, his head buried under piles of pillows and that was when you assumed he was, in fact, ignoring Ethan’s cries. You thought it was too immature of him to ignore your son after finding out he wasn’t exactly conceived through surrogacy, but Archie didn’t know the entire story.
You were at the point of giving up because your husband continued to dismiss your attempts to explain what the hell happened between you and Brenda. There came a point when you could no longer hold back the frustration that was gnawing inside you so ended up yelling, “Fuck!” after he turned away from you. “What the hell is your problem?” you spat.
You didn’t mean to yell, but you weren’t exactly the most patient person in the world and it was too late to regret it because you must've hit a spot that made Archie burst.
“What the hell is my problem?” Archie started out calmly, but then his eyes flickered and his tone rose a decibel higher, “What the hell is my problem, Cook? Do I really need to elaborate? Are you too stupid to realize that my problem is YOU?”
“Don’t call me stupid!”
Archie's words pierced through your ego like a knife cutting through steel.
“Then why do you find a need to ask me what my problem is? Gosh, Cook, would you at least try putting yourself in my shoes for once?” Archie fumed, throwing his hands in the air.
“What are you saying? I’m not empathic enough to know how you feel?”
“That’s exactly what you’re showing right now,” were Archie’s retort.
“I’ve been trying to get you to talk to me for weeks. For two fucking weeks, David!” You were getting angrier, aggravated by what had happened and all you wanted at that moment was for Archie to listen and give you a chance to explain the ‘Brenda’ situation.
“What is there to talk about Cook? Huh?” Archie's eyes bore into you and you could tell that he wouldn’t back down, not a chance. “I think I’ve heard enough already.”
“I haven’t even said a thing!” This was so frustrating. You could feel the pressure of the confrontation on the back of your head, creeping to the sides like vines that coiled around every thread of your conscious thoughts.
“Everything that Brenda said was enough.” Archie turned away, “I don’t want to hear anything more.”
You could hear your heartbeat echoing in your ears. “You only heard her side of the story!” You weren't done talking, you just had to make a point. “Why won’t you listen to what I have to say?”
Archie dropped his head, eyes fixed on the floor. “Because...” His breath hitched a little; then he breathed in deeply before blurting out, “Because I don’t think I have enough strength left to hear what you have to say.” Archie’s voice turned soft and he spoke almost in a whisper.
You wanted so much to gather him in your arms, but Archie disappeared somewhere in the house while you stood there flabbergasted.
That night, you settled on the guest room, as usual, and sleep eluded you once more. It was a cycle indeed. You fell asleep at an ungodly hour only to wake up a few hours later to your son’s cries. You carried Ethan to the kitchen but Archie wasn’t around and there were no signs that he’d been down there. So you brought your son to the masters’ bedroom, presuming Archie was still asleep, probably buried underneath a thick comforter and about half a dozen pillows.
What you saw wasn’t exactly what you expected. Your heart thumped wildly and the room started to spin. Tears welled up in your eyes but they wouldn’t fall. You couldn't see clearly, your vision blurry while you read the note you found on the bed.
Dave,
I'm lost, not knowing how to deal with our situation anymore. I think it’s best if we part ways for now. I’ve taken Karissa with me. I’m so sorry I’ve been ignoring Ethan lately, I know how immature I’ve been, but please know that I love him just the same. Everything that's happening is just too much for me to handle right now.
Take care of yourself and Ethan.
David
~ tbc ~
=========================================================
Comments will be greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading.