Fic: Take A Step Before You Leap [part 2]

[silentdescant]

Take A Step Before You Leap

[index] - [part 1] - [part 2] - [part 3] - [part 4] - [art post by qafmaniac]

APRIL

“Hey, Tommy, c’mere, I want you to meet some people.”

Tommy stuffs his phone back into his pocket and looks around for Adam. He’s standing with a bunch of people Tommy recognizes from parties and photos, but he’s never been good at remembering names. He goes over to them.

“Tommy Joe!” Brad says cheerfully. He looks ridiculous with his weird feathered headdress, but Tommy thinks most of the people on this video set look ridiculous, so he fits right in.

“You guys have met, right?” Adam says. “Brad was at my birthday party.”

“I know who he is,” Tommy says quickly. Brad was at the party, but Tommy remembers the first time they’d met, at that art show. He gives Brad a weak smile.

“I guess I didn’t get a chance to tell you before,” Brad says. “You looked great on TV. And I heard Adam took you to Cabo.”

“Bradley,” Adam hisses.

“Thanks,” Tommy replies slowly. “Yeah, it was fun.”

“Ooh, I think I’m in trouble,” Brad says, smirking up at Adam. “Baby, can I talk to you for a second? Over there?”

Adam grabs Brad’s arm and pulls him away from the group. Tommy introduces himself to the others—their names slip past him; he’s too focused on watching Adam back Brad up against a tree. Brad doesn’t look cowed there, though; he crosses his arms over his chest and stares Adam down until Adam finally shuts up. Tommy makes his excuses to the group and wanders closer to eavesdrop.

“You never fucking learn,” Brad’s saying. “Don’t you think the press has had enough of your heartbreak?”

“You would fucking know, wouldn’t you?” Adam snaps.

“I did not break your goddamn heart, Adam, so shut the fuck up. You left me, remember? But that’s not my point. At least that breakup was a real breakup. As bad as it got between us, I am still a better choice than he—”

“It’s not a fucking choice! He’s my friend, and Kris was my friend, and that’s fine with me.”

“Yeah, your feelings for them are totally platonic,” Brad says, rolling his eyes. He uncrosses his arms and sighs, then crosses them again. “Everyone’s already teasing you for liking Kris; you don’t need that again. These guys will never love you back, and you’ll never get what you want.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Adam says, “and I can like whoever I want to like. You don’t have any claim to me anymore.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t care about you!” Brad replies shrilly. “I’m trying to keep your fucking heart from breaking again. This is a mistake and you know I’m right.”

“You’re not,” Adam insists. “Now go back over there and play nice.”

Brad gives Adam a hard glare and says something Tommy isn’t close enough to hear, but it makes Adam’s expression soften. He leans in and kisses Brad’s forehead, and then Brad slips out from between Adam and the tree and heads back to his friends. Adam sighs deeply and walks away a moment later.

Tommy backs up against his own tree and tries not to freak out. They were obviously talking about him, but Tommy’s not sure if that means Adam’s in love with him, or if Brad really was off base.

Adam flirted with him when they met, and Tommy told him no. He told everyone he’s straight. That’s the end of that. It has to be the end.

***

JUNE

Rehearsals leading up to the tour are intense, so the first show feels like a big sigh of relief for all of them. It’s an amazing show, and it’s going to be an amazing tour, and Tommy feels like his fantasies of being in a successful band are finally becoming a reality. Somehow it’s more real to him now than it ever was when they played on TV or those one-off events. Being a touring musician is Tommy’s dream.

Adam insists on taking the whole gang out to celebrate. Everyone’s there; the band, the dancers, the techs and the road crew, and even several of the fans. Tommy’s had several drinks already and he’s feeling clingy and happy, but he’s not the only one laughing a little too loud or leaning a little too close. He settles back into his chair with his beer and watches the dancers take over the floor with more enthusiasm and energy than should be possible after playing a full-length show.

Adam gets up after a few minutes and Brooke draws him in, twining her arms around his neck and straddling his thigh. Adam rests his hands at the small of her back and throws his head back to laugh delightedly. Tommy lets his eyes wander over the long, smooth curves of Brooke’s body, wrapped all around Adam’s. They make a pretty picture. Tommy finds his eyes skipping over to Adam’s sweat-shiny biceps and thick, muscular thighs more often than Brook’s chest, though.

Tommy takes a healthy swig of his beer. He watches them dance until Adam makes his way back over to their table and extends his hand to Tommy with a smile. Tommy raises his eyebrows. Adam snatches Tommy’s beer, drains it, and slams it down on the table, then reaches for Tommy again, fingers twitching in a “come here” gesture.

With a put-upon sigh, Tommy accepts Adam’s hand and follows him out into the middle of the dance floor. People press in around them and Tommy shrinks back, melting into the safe circle of Adam’s arms. Adam laughs low in Tommy’s ear and rests both hands on Tommy’s hips, starting to guide him into the rhythm of the song.

Tommy can feel the bulge of Adam’s dick against his ass—Adam doesn’t seem to mind Tommy all up in his business, so Tommy ignores it. He moves with Adam’s hands, concentrates on the music and not all the people surrounding them, and finds the beat. It becomes the one clear thing in Tommy’s head, and he shuts everything else out to concentrate on dancing. If performing in front of an audience has taught him anything, it’s that being self-conscious and unsure is an instant turn-off.

Tommy sways and rocks his hips to the music, letting all the other noise bleed out and fade away, and he’s grinding back against Adam’s dick before he even realizes what’s happening. Adam moves with him, pressing against him from shoulder to thigh, and Tommy relaxes despite the intimacy of the position. Adam’s hands slide around further, bracketing Tommy’s dick; one rests low on his belly, and Adam’s thumb is creeping up under Tommy’s shirt, and the other hand is curving along Tommy’s leg and tracing the crease of his thigh.

Tommy reaches back with both hands and pulls Adam’s head down, and Adam obligingly starts licking a spot on the side of Tommy’s neck. Tommy lets Adam’s hips guide his motions; Adam’s slowly swaying and rolling forward in a full-body thrust and Tommy just rides it out, his body going limp and pliant, and his eyes slide closed.

Adam’s mouth on his neck is a bright spot of heat even in the sweat-damp air of the club, and Tommy drops his head back against Adam’s opposite shoulder, giving Adam more room. Adam flicks his tongue teasingly over Tommy’s skin as he moves around, lower, and he eventually picks a new spot and starts licking and sucking there.

When Tommy feels the sharp scrape of Adam’s teeth, he gasps. His eyes fly open and he’s shocked to realize they’re still in the middle of a crowded club, and Adam’s cock is rock hard and digging into the crease of his ass through their tight pants. Tommy’s hands clench in Adam’s hair for a brief second, and then he lets go and drops his arms to his sides, already squirming out of Adam’s grasp.

He weaves through the crowd and when he reaches the edge of the dance floor, he scans the tables for the rest of the group. Most of them are out dancing, and Monte and Cam are leaning close together to hear each other over the music. Tommy starts toward them, but then Cam looks up. Her gaze slides from Tommy to Adam, whose presence Tommy can feel behind him—physically feel, like a vibrating hum of energy that makes the hairs on his arms stand up—and Tommy bolts toward the bathrooms.

There are two guys standing at the urinals; Tommy hurries past and locks himself into the tiny stall at the end of the row, as far away from them as possible. He sinks down and sits on the toilet seat, and covers his face with his hands, breathing harshly. He hears the main door open and the loud burst of sound from the club, and then Adam’s storming into the bathroom.

Tommy sees Adam’s ridiculous snakeskin boots stop in front of his stall. There’s a muffled thud as Adam leans against the door. Tommy lifts his head and stares at the scratched and Sharpie’d names on the metal.

“Tommy,” Adam says. “I’m sorry. Are you alright? I don’t know—I’m sorry, okay? Tell me what I did and I won’t ever do it again, I promise. I just… Tell me, Tommy. I don’t know.”

Tommy opens his mouth, but he doesn’t know what to say.

“Talk to me, baby, please. Are you okay? Whatever I did, I’m sorry. Come on, baby, say something.”

“It—It wasn’t you,” Tommy finally replies. “I’m fine. I just want to be alone for a minute, okay? Just for a minute. It’s not your fault.”

“It feels like my fault,” Adam murmurs. The bathroom door opens and closes again, and then it’s totally silent. Tommy guesses they’re actually alone this time.

“I need to be alone right now,” Tommy whispers. “Please.”

Adam sighs and the door squeaks as he shifts against it. “Do you want to go back to the hotel?”

“I don’t know.” Tommy can’t even think of anything beyond the next five minutes, and all he wants for the next five minutes is to sit quietly and erase the feel of Adam against him from his mind. “I’ll find my own way if I go. You’re having fun, you should stay.”

“No, Tommy,” Adam says. “If you go, get someone to go with you, okay? It doesn’t have to be me if you don’t want, but I don’t think you go by yourself.”

Tommy closes his eyes tightly. Adam’s presence is driving him crazy; all he can think of is the solid muscles of his chest and the hard bulge of his dick against Tommy’s ass. He grits his teeth and rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Can you leave me alone now, please?”

Adam takes a breath. He says, “I’m sorry,” and then Tommy listens to him crossing the bathroom and leaving. The door closes behind him and Tommy’s left in silence. He exhales sharply. When he’s absolutely, one-hundred-percent sure that he’s really alone, Tommy whispers, “I’m sorry too.”

***

Things don’t stay awkward between them for long. By the next show, Adam’s back to invading Tommy’s personal space and tucking him under his arm as they walk side by side. Tommy’s glad he didn’t ruin their friendship, at least, and it’s nice to be treated the way Adam treats him.

He gets Adam’s approval on his makeup before each show, and Adam says, always and without fail, that he looks gorgeous. During sound checks, Tommy turns toward Adam and plays for him, and Adam returns the favor by singing to him and ruffling his hair. When Tommy has an idea for the performance, or about a particular song, Adam listens to him. Monte, too, but it’s Adam’s undivided attention that really stands out. He could easily brush off Tommy’s thoughts; he’s just the hired bassist. But he doesn’t.

Tommy spends his evenings watching movies or TV shows with the troupe, and he snuggles under Adam’s arm because Adam is warm and appreciates the cuddling, and he makes an excellent pillow. Adam likes to stroke his fingers through Tommy’s hair, which has put Tommy to sleep in Adam’s lap more than once.

When they’re out exploring the cities before the shows, Tommy sticks close to Adam’s side so he can listen to Adam’s stories about seeing the world during his cruise ship gig, or experiences he’s had touring with his theater groups. Adam’s full of stories and he loves to talk, and he seems to appreciate Tommy’s attention. Tommy’s only too happy to give it.

If something in a shop window catches Tommy’s eye, Adam’s the one who says “Hey, let’s stop in here for a minute.” He’s usually the one waiting outside the dressing room, too. He looks Tommy up and down, but it never makes Tommy feel uncomfortable. Tommy poses in the touristy t-shirts and expensive jackets like a model, complete with disaffected gaze and glossy pout, and Adam tells him honestly if it looks good or not.

It’s not until the fourth new coat gets packed into Tommy’s suitcase that Tommy even notices that Adam’s going out of his way to buy him things. Expensive things. He’s got a pair of sparkly new sunglasses and a silver pendant in his toiletries bag as well. He goes into Adam’s dressing room that evening with his arms crossed.

“Why do you keep buying me things?”

“What things?” Adam asks, taking a sip of his tea.

“Clothes, jewelry, I don’t know. I suddenly have a bunch of designer shit I didn’t have before.”

Adam shrugs. “I don’t know. I didn’t realize. Does it bother you?”

Tommy ignores the question; he’s not really sure of the answer. “But why? I don’t deserve it.”

“Sure you do,” Adam replies. “I’ve bought everyone souvenirs, Tommy Joe. You happen to look gorgeous in pretty much every piece of clothing you try on, so why shouldn’t you have it? You wanted it, didn’t you?”

“I guess…”

Adam stands up and comes over to him. He towers over Tommy—it’s unintentional, Tommy’s sure, but it’s a little unnerving to be caught under Adam’s spell like this, when he can so easily be physically overpowered. Tommy shrinks back against the door and stares up at him. Adam runs his fingers gently through Tommy’s bangs.

“I like your hair tonight. Pretty.”

“Thanks,” Tommy whispers.

“If it bothers you, I’ll stop. I just like making people happy,” Adam says quietly. “Especially you. I like making you smile. You look so beautiful when you smile.”

Just hearing the words makes Tommy smile. He blushes and ducks his head, embarrassed.

“Like that,” Adam laughs. “I love that.”

Tommy lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “Thanks, I guess.”

Adam nudges Tommy’s arm. “Go and get ready. I’ve got to get my makeup done. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Tommy leaves the dressing room, but he doesn’t get far. He stops in the middle of the hallway and leans against the wall, barely holding in a giggle. Adam likes making him happy, and he’s really good at it, but more than that, he makes Tommy feel special. Beautiful. He makes Tommy feel wanted, even though Tommy can never return Adam’s feelings. Tommy recognizes that Adam’s already doing wonders for his self-confidence.

***

Tommy slings his arm over Adam’s shoulders, which, wow, is harder than he expected; when did Adam get so fucking tall? Tommy pushes up onto his toes and readjusts, and then presses a sloppy kiss to the corner of Adam’s jaw. He gives Adam a second kiss, but it falls kind of on the underside of his chin.

“Baby,” Adam murmurs, laughing as he winds his arm around Tommy’s waist. “What’re you doing?”

“Kissin’ you,” Tommy replies. It’s really sort of obvious, and he’s not sure why Adam’s asking.

“You’re my favorite straight boy,” Adam whispers in his ear, like a secret. Tommy grins and catches Adam’s lips while he’s leaning down a little, and Adam slides his tongue into Tommy’s mouth.

“I fuckin’,” Tommy starts, but he’s not entirely sure where that sentence was heading. “I fuckin’ love you,” he says instead. It’s true, in any case. “Kiss me some more.”

Adam obliges, threading his fingers through Tommy’s hair to tilt his head just the right amount, and then they’re making out, tongues and teeth and everything, and Tommy lets himself drift forward until he’s pressed all up against Adam’s chest and Adam’s the only thing holding him upright.

“You need to go to bed,” Adam says breathlessly, when he finally pulls back. Tommy keeps his head tilted like Adam had it, keeps his lips pouted in case Adam comes back to the kissing, but then Adam pets Tommy’s hair flat again and apparently the kissing time is over.

“I’m not tired,” Tommy says, which is a lie, but he doesn’t like to think about leaving Adam—leaving the party so early.

“You’re fuckin’ wasted, TJ,” Adam murmurs, low in Tommy’s ear. “Can you get to your room on your own?”

“Don’t wanna go to my fuckin’ room,” Tommy replies petulantly. He doesn’t understand why Adam wants him to leave. “I thought you liked me. I’m your favorite.”

“You are my favorite,” Adam says, “and that’s why I need to put you to bed before you do something you’ll regret.”

“Not gonna. I don’t wanna fucking leave—” Tommy wrenches himself out of Adam’s arms and trips on his own fucking shoe, which sends him crashing into a potted palm tree. He grabs at it, and Adam grabs at him, and somehow everything stays vertical. Tommy pushes at Adam’s arms, which hold him tightly again. “Why’re you making me leave?”

“Baby, calm down,” Adam says quietly.

“It’s not like—like you’re not like, fuckin’… fuckin’ drunk—”

“Tommy, Tommy Joe, calm down, I don’t want you to leave, I just don’t want you to do something you’ll regret in the morning.”

Tommy lets that explanation sink in and relaxes in Adam’s arms. Adam’s warm and strong, and Tommy nuzzles his shoulder a little.

“Come with me,” he murmurs. “Want you with me. Kiss me s’more.”

“Tommy, stop, Tommy—” Adam says, suddenly holding him at arm’s distance. “Listen, baby, I’m all for making out, but… I can’t do this with you, alright? Why don’t we get you up to your room, okay?”

“You’re fuckin’ drunk,” Tommy protests. “C’mon, you like me. You like me, don’t you?”

“I’m not drunk enough for this,” Adam says under his breath. “Come on, I’m taking you upstairs.”

Adam leads the way, Tommy stumbling along half under Adam’s arm, and by the time they’re lurching out of the elevator and down the hall like they’re in a three-legged race, Tommy’s starting to feel a little bit sick. A wave of embarrassment and bad feeling washes over him and the alcohol isn’t helping at all, and he almost falls to his knees when they finally reach his door. Adam leans down and digs around in Tommy’s front pocket for his key card, and then he practically carries Tommy to the bed.

“Baby, what are you doing?” Adam asks sadly. He’s kneeling beside the bed, petting Tommy’s hair. It sounds like a rhetoric question, so Tommy doesn’t answer. Tommy thinks he’s about to fall asleep, but he really doesn’t want to. He paws at Adam’s forearm.

“Kiss me. I like it.”

“I can’t.”

“I’m your favorite. You said so.”

“You’re totally my favorite, TJ, but why you gotta be such a tease, huh?” Adam asks softly.

Tommy doesn’t know how to answer. He opens his eyes when he realizes they’re closed. Adam looks a little glassy-eyed, but he’s obviously nowhere near as wasted as Tommy is himself.

“Sorry. Don’t wanna be.”

“Yeah,” Adam sighs. “Me either.” He leans over and kisses Tommy’s forehead. “Sleep it off, baby.”

***

JULY

The shows start heating up after that. It starts with Tommy leaning against Adam while he plays, which is becoming their signature move. It progresses quickly into Adam playing with him like Tommy plays his bass; Adam teases him with quick little touches, pulls his hair, drags Tommy back against his chest, and, eventually, kisses him during Fever. Tommy grins at Adam when they pull apart, and he blushes fiercely as they continue the song, staring down at his hands on his instrument.

It doesn’t occur to Tommy to freak out about the kiss until after the show, and then he and Adam are answering questions from fans about it. It’s fanservice, Adam says, and Tommy adopts his answer. He tells the fans he’s straight, but he’s cool with the kissing, and it’s true enough that they sometimes believe him.

Of course, it doesn’t take long for the kisses to become their new signature move. Tommy finds himself looking forward to it, waiting for those opening notes with bated breath. He likes the feel of Adam’s lips and the taste of his tongue, and that’s okay, because he’s straight. As long as it’s onstage, it’s fine. It’s fanservice.

***

Adam eventually confronts him about it. He takes Tommy into his bedroom on the bus and locks the door behind them, and he says, “I need to make sure you’re still okay with this.”

“With what?” Tommy asks, playing dumb. The last thing he wants to do is talk about the kissing.

“I know you said it’s okay if I play with you on stage,” Adam says carefully, “but this is starting to be a little more than just pulling your hair. Just… tell me you’re still okay with it. Or if you’re not, I’ll back off, I promise.”

“It’s fine, I like it,” Tommy replies quickly. He takes a breath. “I do like it. I think—It’s good that you’re pushing boundaries, and I’m okay with that. Just don’t—”

“Don’t what?”

“Not offstage. I’m straight, we can’t… we can’t be more than friends,” Tommy says, not meeting Adam’s eyes.

“No kissing offstage?” Adam asks. Tommy looks up and sees Adam raising his eyebrows at him.

“Yeah.”

“You don’t remember?”

Tommy’s blood runs ice cold. “Remember what?”

“You tried to kiss me the other night,” Adam replies softly. “You did kiss me the other night.”

“Why? Why did I do that? I don’t remember that.”

“You were drunk,” Adam says. “Really fucking drunk. You kept asking me to kiss you.” Adam watches him carefully and keeps his voice low, like Tommy might run away. It’s not out of the realm of possibility.

“What did you do?”

“I put you to bed, told you to sleep it off.”

Tommy looks away again, embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have… I’m so sorry.”

Adam steps forward and pulls Tommy into a tight hug. Tommy slowly brings his arms up around Adam’s waist and squeezes him back.

“It’s not the first time it’s happened,” Adam whispers against Tommy’s hair.

Tommy stiffens and says, “I’m sorry.”

Adam just squeezes him harder, until Tommy’s forced to relax into his arms. “I’m here if you ever need to talk,” he murmurs. He presses his lips to Tommy’s forehead in an almost-kiss. “And I won’t kiss you anymore offstage, even if you’re asking for it, okay?”

Tommy nods against Adam’s chest and says, “I won’t ask anymore.”

***

At his mother’s request, Tommy flies home to visit his father in the hospital. It’s scary as fuck, seeing in person the stark reality of how sick his dad is, and Tommy almost wishes he’d stayed on tour. He sits in a hard plastic chair outside his dad’s room to wait while his sister goes inside to have a moment with him.

“How are you, honey?” his mom asks, sinking into the chair beside him. “How’s your band going?”

“It’s not my band—”

“Don’t be contrary. How’s your tour going?”

“It’s fine. It’s great, a lot of fun,” Tommy replies with a shrug.

“I know your father would love to hear about it,” she suggests.

“Okay.”

“He just wants to know that you’re happy. You are happy, aren’t you? Playing music and traveling the country. It all seems so glamorous.”

“It is,” Tommy says. “It’s a lot of fun.”

“You seem better than—”

“Better than what?” Tommy snaps. “Better than before I got the job? Of course I fucking am, Mom, that job was killing me. At least being on tour got me the fuck out of here.”

“I was just saying that you seem happier now,” she says carefully.

“Yeah, now that I’m Adam Lambert’s boy toy,” Tommy mumbles.

She gives him a sharp look. “Please don’t be like this, Tommy. We’re all going through a lot right now—”

“That’s what you meant, isn’t it? Well, I am happier now. I’d take Adam kissing me in front of thousands of people over calling numbers on a list any fucking day, so just let it go.”

Lisa comes out of the room, wiping her eyes. “He’s resting,” she tells them.

“I gotta get out of here.” He grabs his jacket and heads for the door, and when he wakes up the next morning with a killer hangover and an empty bottle of Jack on the nightstand, he can’t remember how it got there.

***

He spends some time at the hospital the next day, and he tells his father about playing in front of huge crowds in unbelievable venues. When he’s not sitting with his dad, he’s out in the hallway, in the uncomfortable plastic chair, with the heavy weight of worry filling his gut. He whispers to Lisa that it feels like they’re waiting for their father to die.

“He’ll be okay,” she says, squeezing his hand. “It’s good that you came.”

“I had to,” Tommy replies. “I couldn’t just… I mean, what if I didn’t get back in time?”

“I know. No regrets, okay?” She pulls him into a hug.

“No regrets.”

Adam calls him later that day, relaying the well-wishes of the troupe and the road crew, and then he asks how Tommy’s feeling.

Tommy’s leaning against a wall in one of the hospital corridors. A person with a white sheet stretched over their head gets wheeled by him on the way to an elevator.

“I feel sick,” Tommy says honestly. He clutches his stomach and turns to rest his forehead against the cool, smooth wall. “I gotta go, I’m sorry.”

***

Tommy drinks himself to sleep again that night, but he manages to avoid the hangover this time. He wakes up with his sister’s words banging around in his head, though. No regrets. No regrets. It’s something Adam likes to say, too, especially when he meets up with Tommy and the others for a meal after a bunch of stressful interviews.

He misses Adam like crazy, even though it’s only been a couple of days. He’s used to spending every waking moment near Adam, and while he’s grateful for the alone time this trip home has afforded him, it’s already starting to feel too lonely, and that’s more telling than anything.

Tommy makes up his mind and types out a phone number he’d tucked into his wallet. He stares at the number for several minutes before pressing the button to call. He feels dumb, needing to psych himself up for this, but the nagging anxiety is eating away at his mind. He chews on the ragged edge of his thumbnail and listens to the endless ringing.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Brad?” Tommy asks nervously. “It’s Tommy, uh, Tommy Ratliff? I play—”

“I know who you are, Tommy Ratliff.” Brad’s smirk is obvious in his voice. Or maybe that’s just how he sounds on the phone. Tommy takes a deep breath.

“I got your number off Adam’s phone,” he explains uselessly.

“That’s great. Why are you calling me?”

“I needed to ask you… Um, I mean, I wanted to talk to somebody, and… I just…”

“Get to the point already,” Brad snaps.

Tommy scrubs a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. Never mind, okay? It doesn’t matter. Sorry I called you, I’ll just—”

“Jesus Christ. I’m sorry, alright? I’m just… busy right now. Tell me why you’re calling.”

“Can we meet up?” Tommy blurts out. He holds his breath waiting for Brad’s answer.

Brad sighs. “I’m in the middle of about twelve different projects,” he says quietly. “And anyway, aren’t you like, across the fucking country or something?”

“I’m in LA until tomorrow,” Tommy replies.

Brad sighs again. “I’m free for lunch?” he offers after a moment.

“Yeah? That’d be awesome.”

Tommy stumbles through the rest of the conversation while Brad throws out the name and address of some restaurant in WeHo that Tommy’s never heard of. He does manage to jot everything down before Brad hangs up on him, though, and he counts that as a success.

Two hours later, Tommy’s standing at the bar in a trendy restaurant, holding his bottle of Corona in a death grip and trying to seem nonchalant. Someone taps him on the shoulder and he whirls around; it’s only Brad, he’s relieved to see.

“Drinking already? Baby, it’s not even happy hour.”

Tommy doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he just shrugs and takes another swig of the beer, giving Brad a defiant look out of the corner of his eye. Brad takes his arm and leads him over to a table.

“So! What is it you wanted so desperately to talk to me about?”

“Can I finish my beer first?” Tommy gripes.

Brad rolls his eyes expressively and waves his hand to catch a waiter’s attention. “Am I gonna need to be drunk for this conversation?” he asks pleasantly.

“I sure as fuck do,” Tommy says under his breath. He doesn’t say anything else until the waiter asks him what he wants to eat, and as soon as the waiter’s gone, Tommy lapses back into sullen silence.

“Considering you were the one begging to meet with me, the fact that you won’t talk right now is not inspiring much confidence,” Brad says. He flicks his napkin open and rubs at a spot on his side of the table. “Are you ever going to tell me why you needed to talk to me or do I have to guess?”

“I just wanted… to know…” Tommy begins haltingly. “I mean, you’re like—You—Sorry, I just don’t wanna, like, offend you.”

“Jesus, Tommy, just spit it out!” Brad’s smiling, but Tommy can hear the sharp edge of impatience in his voice. He drains the last of his beer and steels himself.

“You like getting fucked, right?”

Brad’s eyebrows go up. “Oh,” he says.

Tommy’s face flames red. “I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, I do like taking it up the ass,” Brad says over Tommy’s clumsy apology. “Are you gonna ask me if it hurts, next? ‘Cause quite frankly, Tommy, you can find that out on any number of websites. Or, like, people on tour with you. Or Adam, for fuck’s sake.”

“I can’t ask him,” Tommy mumbles.

“You should talk to Adam,” Brad continues. “He’s like, some kind of gay sex guru for virgins. I don’t even get it. Seriously, if you want anyone to show you the wonders of gay sex, it’s him—”

“I’m not gay,” Tommy snaps.

Brad gives him a sharp, unreadable look. “Sure, honey. Tell yourself that and ask me what it feels like to be fucked in the same breath.”

“I’m not saying anything against you—”

“No.”

“I’m just—I’m not, okay? I’m not.”

Brad takes a moment to study him, then he straightens his shoulders and his expression softens minutely. “Okay, Tommy,” he says calmly. “What else did you want to ask me?”

Tommy takes a deep breath. “Are you… always like that, or do you switch off?”

“I top occasionally…” Brad answers with a shrug. “It depends on who I’m with.” His eyes rake Tommy’s body and finally settle on his face again. “You don’t have to commit to being a top or a bottom. If you don’t like it one way, you can try—”

“But some people do, right?” Tommy asks quickly.

“Commit to one or the other?”

“Yeah.”

Brad shrugs again. “I’ve never known anyone—personally—who’s exclusively a top or a bottom, but I guess some people do…”

“But A—” Tommy cuts himself off abruptly, but it’s too late; Brad seizes the opportunity to glare at him and lean across the table.

“Stop it, Tommy,” he says in a low, angry voice. “If you want to ask me about Adam, fucking ask me. I’m tired of this stupid game.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Tommy says.

“It does matter, because you want him to fuck you.”

“No, I don’t! I’m not gay.”

“You’re asking me what it’s like to be fucked by Adam Lambert. Now say that again?”

“I’m. Not. Gay,” Tommy growls.

“You still fucking believe that? Honestly?” Brad snaps.

“I’m not. I don’t know why I fucking asked you anything.”

“You know, I don’t either!”

“Fine, I’ll just go, then.” Tommy scrunches up his napkin and throws it on the table, making a move to stand up, but Brad reaches out and grabs his arm.

“Tommy.”

“What?”

Brad grits his teeth and forces a smile. “I’m sorry. I’ve had an awful day and I’m taking it out on you. You’re totally straight, okay, I believe you. I don’t want to fight, it’s like, against my religion.”

Tommy sinks slowly back into his chair. “Will you tell me about him?” he asks cautiously.

“What do you want to know?” Brad waits through a few seconds of Tommy’s helpless floundering before taking pity on him. “He’s a top, but it’s not like he’s never bottomed before. He probably would, for you, if you wanted it. He has a soft spot for you. And you already know what he’s like to be around, you don’t need me to tell you he’s a fucking diva sometimes.”

“Would he…”

Brad rolls his eyes. “Would he what? Take his time with you? Would he wait for you to come to your senses?”

“I mean, I’m not gay, but—”

“At least there’s a ‘but’ at the end of that sentence now,” Brad mutters.

“I can’t just say, ‘fuck it all, do me up the ass right here, right now,’ alright?” Tommy snaps. “I’m not gay. I’m not. I just want to know—”

“You wanna know what you’re missing out on by hiding in the closet, is that it?”

“Yes! No. I mean—”

“He’s not some fucking amazing, magical person, alright?” Brad explodes. He instantly softens. “I mean, he is amazing, he’s a great boyfriend, but he has flaws, we all do. He’s not perfect. And he can’t wait for you forever. He’s a man, he has needs, and if you can’t handle a real relationship, then you need to stay the hell away from him. You could break his heart so easily.” Brad glares at Tommy again, and throughout the whole conversation, Tommy never really considered Brad intimidating, but he revises that opinion in a flash. Brad is totally intimidating, and Tommy can see the threat in his eyes now.

“Alright, fine, okay,” he mumbles quickly, breaking eye contact. Eventually Brad sighs and starts digging through his bag; Tommy fiddles with his phone just so he’s not sitting there like an idiot.

“I have to go,” Brad says softly. Tommy hears him hesitate; Brad waits until Tommy meets his eyes again before speaking. “Listen, Tommy, I think you’re great, okay? You’re a good friend, and you’re a good person for Adam to have around him on tour, but really think about it, okay? Get your head out of your ass, and do not start something with him if you can’t follow through.”

***

The next night, Tommy’s back with the troupe, back with Adam, and he can admit to himself that he’s maybe taking the celebration a bit too far. Tommy falls over himself hugging and kissing everyone, already drunk half out of his mind, and Adam’s there to catch him. Adam’s always there to catch him.

Tommy clings to Adam’s wide, strong shoulders as Adam hauls him to his feet, and then Adam just keeps him there. Tommy makes no effort to leave Adam’s arms, either, and he’s too drunk to care about how it looks, him tucking himself into Adam’s side like he belongs there.

He does belong there.

Every cell in Tommy’s body is screaming out for Adam, wanting to be closer. He snuggles in against Adam’s chest, twines his arms around Adam’s neck, and breathes damp, open-mouthed kisses all over Adam’s throat.

“Baby, you’re fuckin’ wasted,” Adam slurs. But instead of pushing Tommy away, he wraps his arms around Tommy’s waist and keeps him right where he is, and Tommy giggles his relief into Adam’s shirt.

“I know. I know,” he moans. “It’s awesome. Kiss me.”

“No way.”

“C’mon,” Tommy pleads. “You wanna kiss me.”

“I always wanna kiss you.”

“So do it. Come on. I want you to.”

“You’re such a make-out slut,” Adam groans. “Fuckin’ tease.”

“Not teasin’,” Tommy insists. Adam swings him around and presses him against the wall—maybe only to keep them upright, but the breath leaves Tommy’s lungs anyway and he slides one hand up into Adam’s hair. “Kiss me.”

Adam leans in, so Tommy tilts his head and parts his lips, and he can taste Adam’s breath, and… It doesn’t happen. Tommy opens his eyes to see Adam still there, leaning in close, breathing the same air as Tommy, but he’s not kissing Tommy.

“Please,” Tommy whispers.

“I need to get you to bed.”

“Yes,” Tommy hisses, letting his head fall back against the wall.

Adam gets them out of the bar and into the elevator, and Tommy sags against the mirrored paneling where Adam leaves him. They stand at opposite ends of the elevator, watching each other silently.

The elevator reaches Adam’s floor and Tommy follows him out, walking close enough that he can reach up and grab onto Adam’s shoulders when he stumbles.

Adam’s unnervingly quiet as they go into the suite, as he guides Tommy to the bed and sits him down. He takes off his leather jacket and throws it over the back of a chair, kicks off his shoes, and yanks off his gloves, and Tommy watches every move hungrily. He’s not sure if he should take off his hoodie now—he kind of thinks they should make out for a while with their clothes on, first.

But then Adam stands in front of him and pushes on Tommy’s shoulders; Tommy falls backwards on the bed, his head somewhere close to the pillows but not quite there and his feet still hanging off the end. Adam kneels down and takes off Tommy’s boots, then swings Tommy’s legs onto the bed.

Tommy’s mostly on board with this plan; he squirms back until he gets a pillow under his head, then reaches for Adam. Adam crawls onto the bed beside him and doesn’t even touch him, though.

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this with you,” Adam admits quietly. He grazes Tommy’s cheek with the very tips of his fingers.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy replies, very sincerely. “Didn’t wanna hurt you. I just wanna be with you.”

“You don’t mean it.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“You don’t mean it like I want you to mean it,” Adam amends sadly.

“I do mean it,” Tommy moans. His situation is finally sinking in and he sighs unhappily. As he curls up and snuggles into Adam’s chest, he remembers of Brad’s final words. “I wanna follow through. I wanna be more than a good friend, I wanna be good for you. I wanna be with you so fucking bad.”

“But you don’t get it, TJ,” Adam whispers. He strokes his fingers through Tommy’s hair. “I’m already in love with you.”

“Yeah, but…” Tommy trails off, rubbing his nose against Adam’s shirt. “I love you, too.”

Adam sighs heavily; Tommy can feel the rise and fall of his chest.

“Can we sleep now?” Tommy asks.

Adam’s quiet for a while before he finally says, “Yeah, baby, go to sleep.”

***

Tommy blinks awake in the dim hotel room. He feels like shit; his head is pounding and his mouth is dry. He licks his lips ineffectually.

The bathroom door opens and Adam comes out, surrounded by wisps of steam. He’s wearing a plain t-shirt and still has a towel wrapped around his waist, and another one hanging around his neck to catch the drips from his hair. He sees that Tommy’s awake and comes over to stand by the bed.

“You should shower. We’ve got a few hours before we have to go.”

“I’m in your room,” Tommy mumbles. “I’m in your bed.”

Adam raises an eyebrow. “I know. We need to talk. I’ll lay out a clean shirt for you, okay?”

Tommy nods dumbly and lets Adam haul him out of bed. He realizes he’s still wearing yesterday’s clothes, and that he smells like a bar. He makes his way slowly to the bathroom, breathing in the steam, and closes and locks the door behind him.

In the shower, Tommy stands still under the spray and braces his hands against the slippery tile. The embarrassment he didn’t feel last night is catching up to him now, and he wonders if there’s any chance Adam will let him escape without having that talk he mentioned. Tommy’s stomach is in knots; he knows he’s crossed too many lines, and now he’s just waiting for Adam to say Tommy’s out of the band. Tommy uses Adam’s shampoo (which he can’t help but think of as Adam-scented) and concentrates on clearing his mind. It’s hard, when the whole shower smells like Adam.

Tommy comes out of the bathroom shirtless with his arms crossed self-consciously across his chest, but wearing yesterday’s pants. As promised, Adam has another plain, black t-shirt set out for him. Adam watches him put it on. Tommy tries not to hide from him; his bare chest isn’t anything Adam hasn’t seen before. The shirt hangs loose on Tommy, the neckline dipping low enough to reveal his collarbones. He plucks at the hem nervously.

“C’mere, Tommy,” Adam says, beckoning him over to the vanity. He picks through his makeup kit and brings out a wet wipe. “You’re a mess.”

Tommy holds still while Adam swipes at his cheeks, erasing the leftover eyeshadow and liner that smeared during the night. He stays silent, highly conscious of the weird tension between them.

“We need to talk about last night,” Adam finally says, once Tommy’s face is freshly scrubbed clean.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy replies immediately. “I didn’t mean to be all over you like that.”

“It’s not the first time that’s happened,” Adam continues. “And I don’t think I can keep doing this with you.”

“What do you mean?”

Adam takes a deep breath. Tommy can tell he’s uncomfortable, and that just makes Tommy feel even worse for putting Adam in this position. “You keep flirting with me,” Adam says, “telling me you want me, and… Honestly, it’s getting harder and harder for me to resist, especially when I’m as drunk as you are. One day I’m gonna do something I shouldn’t, and you’re gonna wake up the morning after and hate me for it.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“I don’t know what to do, Tommy. You need to tell me what’s going on.”

“What do you mean?”

“Last night, you said you wanted to follow through and be more than friends. You’ve never said that before. You’ve begged me to fuck you, but you’ve never said it like that before.”

Tommy’s breath catches. “I wasn’t lying,” he says, avoiding Adam’s gaze.

“I thought you liked girls,” Adam says gently.

Tommy bites his lip. “That’s never worked out too well for me.”

“What are you saying?”

“I don’t want a girl, I want—”

Adam hesitates. “Tommy?”

“I love you, and I… I want you.”

“Are you sober right now?” Adam asks carefully.

“I’m hungover,” Tommy answers, rolling his eyes, “but yeah.”

Adam takes a step towards him. “Tell me again. Make me believe it.”

Tommy closes his eyes tight. “I want to be with you.”

“Can I kiss you?” Adam whispers.

Tommy doesn’t trust himself to speak; he nods. Adam’s hand slides over his cheek and into his hair. He doesn’t pull, but he gently tilts Tommy’s head and urges him in for a kiss. His lips meet Tommy’s and part instantly, his tongue tracing Tommy’s mouth until Tommy opens for him as well. Adam kisses him, and Tommy lets himself be kissed. The nervous fluttering in his stomach prevents him from doing much more than hang on for the ride, but he follows Adam’s movements and accepts everything Adam does to him.

When they finally part, Adam holds Tommy’s face in his hands and asks Tommy to look at him. Tommy obeys. He opens his eyes to meet Adam’s and he gasps at the naked desire he sees there.

“Will you be with me, Tommy? Will you be my boyfriend? Do you want that?”

“I love you,” Tommy whispers.

“Answer the question.”

“Yes.”

Adam pulls him in for another kiss. “I love you,” he says, his voice shaking with want. “I’ve wanted you for so long…”

Tommy yanks back. “I’ve never—”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Adam sooths. He strokes Tommy’s arm. “We don’t have to do anything. We’ll go slow, okay? Whatever you want to do.”

“Slow?” Tommy asks apprehensively. His body relaxes into Adam’s touch without his permission.

“We’ll go as slow as you need, baby. I won’t push,” Adam promises. He draws Tommy into a hug, tucking Tommy’s head under his chin. “I love you.”

***

They part and act normal for the rest of the day while they hang out with the troupe and make their way to the next venue, but Tommy follows Adam to his hotel room that night. Adam greets him at the door with a chaste kiss on the lips.

Tommy turns away and hides behind his hair. As soon as he does it, he knows it’s the wrong reaction. He shakes his hair away and gives Adam a smile.

“Sorry. Not used to this,” he says quickly. He reaches for Adam’s hand and laces their fingers together. “Can we just hang out for a while?”

Adam says, “Sure,” with a cheerful smile, but Tommy doesn’t miss the slight wrinkling of his eyebrows. He leads Tommy into the room and they both sit on the bed, up against the headboard. “You want to watch a movie?” Adam asks. “I’m sure there’s something good on Pay-Per-View.”

“We can just watch normal TV, if you want,” Tommy offers. There’s an obvious gap between their bodies; the only place they’re touching is their hands. Tommy squeezes Adam’s fingers but can’t quite bring himself to move closer.

Adam turns on the TV and resettles against the headboard without letting go of Tommy’s hand. After a few minutes, he unlaces their fingers and stretches his arm over Tommy’s shoulders to hold him, but Tommy doesn’t scoot closer to close the gap. Adam’s hand slides down over Tommy’s chest like it does when they’re in this position on stage, and Tommy’s stomach flutters nervously. He reaches up and lays his hand over Adam’s, stilling it. He wonders if this is how girls felt when he tried to subtly feel them up.

Eventually, Adam looks over at him. He doesn’t say anything, but Tommy can read the question in his eyes. Tommy doesn’t respond negatively and hopes that’s enough, and then Adam leans over and kisses him softly. Tommy forces himself to relax and let go of the tension that shoots up his spine, and after a moment of just sitting there passively being kissed, Tommy pushes forward and meets Adam’s tongue with his own.

Adam seems to understand that Tommy’s in the middle of freaking out, so he moves slowly, dragging out that one kiss for a while before inching closer and pulling Tommy against him. When he brings his other hand up to cup Tommy’s cheek, though, something triggers the too-much alarm in Tommy’s brain and he jerks back, away, far enough that they’re not touching at all anymore.

Adam looks surprised, concerned, but not angry. “You okay?” he asks carefully. He lifts his hand and Tommy tenses up.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”

Adam shrugs. His faces smoothes into the mask he wears for fans, the one even Tommy can’t see through. “We don’t have to kiss if you don’t want.”

Something untwists in Tommy’s gut at Adam’s words and he breathes a sigh of relief. He instantly feels bad about it, though, because he knows how much Adam loves kissing, and he loves it too—he really wants to be okay with kissing Adam.

“It’s just some kind of mental block,” he mumbles. “I’m sorry.”

Tommy hunches over and wraps his arms around Adam’s waist. Adam’s hands hover above his shoulders like he’s scared to touch Tommy, which is both so wrong and exactly what Tommy wants right now. Tommy tucks his head under Adam’s chin and nuzzles at the dip between his collarbones.

“I don't know what I'm supposed to do,” he says miserably. “I don't know what you want me to do.”

“Oh, honey,” Adam replies, his voice softening instantly. He puts his hands around Tommy’s shoulders gently pulls him in to a tight embrace. “I'm not asking you to do anything. You don’t have to know, right now. We’ll go as slow as you need.”

Tommy presses a quick kiss to Adam’s bare skin and whispers, “I love you.”

***

It doesn’t get any better during the next week. Every time Adam gets close enough to Tommy to touch him, Tommy shrugs out from under Adam’s hands, pulling away with an apologetic smile. Tommy’s heart breaks a little every time he sees Adam pull that cheerful mask back on, and he feels like the only words out of his mouth lately are apologies.

It wears them down, the subtle avoidance, and Tommy starts to notice the concerned glances Monte shoots at them both. In addition to yanking his hands back whenever he reaches for Tommy, Adam starts snapping at everyone during rehearsals. When they’re on the bus, Tommy takes the brunt of Adam’s sharpening temper, because he knows it’s his fault, but there’s nothing he can do when Adam decides to bitch at the dancers or the crew instead.

He finds Adam alone in his dressing room after that night’s show, just sitting in front of the mirror making no effort to undress or wipe off his stage makeup. Tommy closes the door behind him and turns the lock.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, announcing his presence.

Adam whirls around and rises smoothly out of his chair. “For what?” he snaps.

“I know this is all my fault,” Tommy answers, “but I don’t know how to get past it. I’m trying, though. I want things to be better.”

“You’re trying,” Adam repeats. “That’s what I don’t get. What the hell are you trying, Tommy? It doesn’t seem like you’re trying anything. It seems like you’re just avoiding the issue.”

“I’m not avoiding—”

“You are. You’re avoiding me!”

“I’m sor—”

“Stop saying that!” Adam shouts. “I don’t think you are sorry! What the hell is wrong with you?” he asks desperately. “I kissed you all the fucking time before, and we finally get together and now suddenly you’re not okay with it? What the fuck, Tommy?”

“I’m sorry!”

“What is going on? I don’t fucking get it! You’re the most open-minded person I know. Or at least, I thought you were. Why are you like this all of the sudden?”

Tommy dithers for a moment. “You’re gonna hate me,” he finally answers.

Adam sighs. “I can’t hate you, baby.”

“You won’t like it,” Tommy insists.

“I don’t like you being scared of me or whatever the fuck this is, either!”

Tommy twists both hands in the pockets of his hoodie and avoids Adam’s gaze. “It was easier before,” he admits.

“What does that even mean?”

“It wasn’t… real.”

The frantic energy leaves Adam in a rush; he shocks Tommy with his sudden stillness. “What wasn’t real?” he asks in a deceptively calm voice.

“The… kissing, the touching, it wasn’t… It didn’t mean anything, before,” Tommy murmurs.

“And now—”

“Now it means something, and I can’t—I’m just scared, alright? I’m sorry, but I am.”

“You’re scared of being gay. For real.”

“Adam, don’t.”

“No, I get it,” Adam says quickly. “It’s only okay to kiss and touch when you can push it all away and hide behind a fucking label that says none of it meant anything.”

“Adam!”

Adam grabs a handful of Tommy’s shirt and hauls him close. “It always meant something to me,” he hisses angrily. “Don’t you fucking do this.”

Tommy’s breath catches in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry. I love you. I’m trying, okay? I’m sorry.”

Adam releases him and takes several steps back. “I think I need to be away from you for a little while,” he says stiffly.

“Adam, please—” Tommy rushes forward, closing the distance between them again, and tugs at the sides of Adam’s jacket.

Adam grabs Tommy’s face and drags him in for a fierce, brutal kiss. His teeth nip and pull Tommy’s lower lip, and his tongue pushes into Tommy’s mouth forcefully. When they part, Tommy’s knees buckle; Adam holds him steady and squeezes Tommy’s biceps until Tommy opens his eyes.

“Nothing’s changed,” Adam growls. “I loved you then, and I love you now, and you’re still hiding behind that stupid label. Nothing has changed.”

Tommy nods weakly and lets Adam’s arms hold him up. He has no confidence in his legs’ ability to support him at all. He feels safe with Adam.

“This is just us, Tommy, just like before,” Adam continues. His voice slides into a sad sort of pleading. “Don’t be scared of me.”

Tommy shakes his head. “I’m not.” It’s the truth.

Adam leans in again, and this time Tommy’s ready for him. He tilts his head and closes his eyes and meets Adam halfway, matching his intensity. He forces his mind to clear, focusing on nothing but Adam’s lips against his own, and how good it feels, and how much he likes it. That’s all that matters.

***

AUGUST

It takes Tommy a few days to sort everything out in his head—they’re busy with the tour, of course, but they’re close enough to home that family and friends come out to see them. Everyone works hard to make those few shows extra-spectacular, and the parties afterward are crazy enough that Tommy doesn’t remember more than vague images of people and drinks and flashing lights.

Finally, they have a free night. Tommy’s already made up his mind to apologize to Adam, but the hard part is getting up the nerve to actually do it. Adam was right, is the thing. He loved Adam before he admitted it to himself, and he loves Adam now, and in that respect, nothing has changed. The only thing Tommy can think of that’s different, now that he and Adam are together, is that they can kiss and have it mean everything they’d kept hidden from each other before.

Tommy digs through the cabinets on the bus and finds a bottle of wine and two mismatched glasses, then takes the True Blood DVD set from the lounge and heads back to Adam’s room. Adam’s flipping through a magazine with the TV on mute when Tommy walks in; he looks up in surprise.

“You alright?” he asks. Tommy feels a rush of guilt; he and Adam haven’t really spent time together at all this week.

“I wanna make it up to you,” he says. “So I thought, movie night? Just us?” He holds up the wine and the DVD box hopefully.

Adam breaks into a smile and shoves his magazine off his lap. He gets up to his knees and meets Tommy in the middle of the bed, taking the glasses out of Tommy’s hand and setting them aside carefully.

Tommy hesitates for only a fraction of a second before leaning in and pulling Adam down for a kiss. Adam keeps his hands off Tommy’s body at first, until Tommy makes his intentions clear and wraps his arms around Adam’s neck to hold him close. Adam slides one hand under Tommy’s t-shirt and rests it on his lower back, warm and solid, and Tommy sighs into Adam’s mouth. He’s missed this.

He does notice that Adam keeps his hands still, which is comforting. Tommy takes the lead and eventually he’s the one to pull away. He doesn’t let go of Adam, and Adam takes the hint and doesn’t let go of him either. Tommy smiles at him.

“You were right,” he whispers. “And I like being with you. I don’t want that to stop.”

“I don’t either. I’m just… waiting for you,” Adam says. “Whatever you want to do, okay?”

Tommy laughs. “Well, tonight I want to sit in here with you and watch some sexy vampires, drink some wine, and make out like teenagers. Can we do that?”

“We can most certainly do that.”

***

Of course, it’s too good to last. Two days later, he’s sleeping in Adam’s bed, with Adam’s arm slung over his waist, when his phone vibrates its way off the nightstand. He ignores it and it eventually falls silent. Adam snuggles closer and rubs his nose against Tommy’s shoulder, wrinkling his t-shirt. The phone starts vibrating again.

Tommy rolls away from Adam and reaches over the side of the bed to snag it.

“Oh, shit,” he breathes.

He hears Adam shift around behind him. “What’re you doin’?” he asks sleepily.

“It’s my mom,” Tommy says. The phone stops vibrating and starts up again a second later. “Oh, shit. Shit. Adam.”

“You gonna answer it?” Adam asks. He sounds more awake, now, and very calm.

Tommy shakes his head slowly. He can’t answer it.

“Give me the phone, Tommy,” Adam says. Tommy lets it fall from his hands and Adam leans around him to pick it up. He clicks the button and holds it up to his ear. “This is Adam, hold on a second.”

Tommy slides off the bed and sits on the floor, shaking his head again.

“Talk to her, Tommy,” Adam whispers. He holds the phone out. Tommy can hear his mom saying his name. He reaches for it.

“Mom?”

She’s crying, and that’s all the answer Tommy needs. He pinches his lips together and closes his eyes tight and pretends tears aren’t sliding down his cheeks. He’s distantly aware of her telling him that he doesn’t need to come home, that he should stay on tour and let her take care of funeral arrangements, and eventually the line goes dead and Adam’s prying the phone from Tommy’s fist.

Adam gets on the floor with him and pulls him into a hug, whispering, “I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so sorry,” into Tommy’s hair. Tommy isn’t even embarrassed about crying and sniffling into Adam’s shirt, or about clinging to Adam like a drowning man with a life jacket.

Tommy’s not sure how long they sit on the floor together, but when he wakes up, he’s back in Adam’s bed, alone, and he can hear people talking quietly out in the lounge. He’s not ready to see them yet, so he doesn’t get up. He pulls the blanket up over his head and wipes his eyes on Adam’s soft pillowcase and falls back to sleep.

***

Tommy stays in Adam’s bed all day on Thursday and as long as he can on Friday; Adam comes in every now and then to sit with him, and he’s said several times that Tommy doesn’t have to play tonight if he’s not feeling up to it. Tommy shakes his head each time and tells Adam over and over that he’ll play the show. He skips the sound check, though.

Adam comes in afterward and sits on the edge of the bed, reaching over to brush Tommy’s hair out of his eyes. “You still want to play?”

“Yes,” Tommy says firmly. His mom told him to keep playing. His dad would’ve wanted him to keep playing.

“Your phone’s been ringing off the hook,” Adam says. He takes it out of his pocket and hands it over. “A lot of people left you messages.”

“I don’t want to hear them.”

Adam sighs. “I know. But you should talk to you mom, at least.”

Tommy stares blankly at the phone. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Tell her about the tour. Tell her you’re gonna play tonight. That would be good, wouldn’t it?”

Adam gives him a hug and a kiss on the forehead and leaves the room again. He probably has to start getting ready for the show. Tommy wonders how much time he has before he needs to get dressed as well and briefly considers just staying in bed all night. He calls his mom.

She tells him about the flowers people are sending, and about the fans that have sent their condolences, and Tommy tells her about the messages on his phone. It’s not hard to guess what they all say; he doesn’t tell her that he can’t bring himself to listen to them yet.

“You have a show tonight, right? Tommy?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ll make him proud, won’t you?”

Tommy has to get out of bed, now. He rolls to his feet and shuffles across the room to listen through the door. “Of course, yeah,” he says. He can hear Adam’s voice.

“You just keep doing what you love, Tommy. That’s all we ever wanted for you. Just for you to be happy,” she says tearfully.

Tommy leans against the door and feels the ghost of Adam’s kiss on his forehead. “Yeah.”

***

[part 3]