four rings means you're being ignored
Title: Four Rings Means You're Being Ignored
Author: kissoffools / wakeyourheart
Pairing: Adam Lambert/Matt Giraud (with Megan Joy/Anoop Desai undertones)
Rating: R
Summary: Adam Lambert has never been good at putting people before his career. He's also never been good at playing the piano. And if you asked him now, a year and a half after Idol, he'd tell you that he doesn't expect that to change anytime soon.
Disclaimer: Yes. I can see into the future and tell you that this is exactly what's going to happen a year from now. This is 100% real because I am just that good.
Notes: Written as part of the DonorsChoose charity auction for dreadnought, who asked for a longer Madam fic in which friends fall in love. Word count: 8620. So many thanks to the amazing lyingdelilaah, who was with me every step of the way on this and kept an eye on Adam to make sure he didn't get out of hand. She's a superstar. Thanks to oatmeal_cookie for pointing out all my stupid spelling mistakes, dreadnought for letting me twist her prompt when the inspiration just wasn't there, actress_is_me and logannie for being my Meganoop experts, my Twitter feed for answering my questions when I was too lazy to Google, and ch_ch_chinatown for shipping Madam with me months before it was cool to do so.
Adam returns home from five months of his first solo tour to two things: a blinking answering machine and a square, cream-coloured envelope.
He goes for the envelope first, slicing it open with his finger right there in the hallway. There’s a stack of other mail, of course, bills and flyers and several months worth of catalogues, but this one catches his eye immediately. It’s rather thick and the paper feels expensive, his name and address written in calligraphy on the front. When he slides the card out, he realizes it’s an invitation and idly hopes he didn’t miss something important.
You are cordially invited to celebrate
the wedding of
Megan Joy Knudsen
and
Anoop Manoj Desai
on the fourth of April
at three o’clock
Adam blinks at the invitation for several seconds, not really sure why he’s surprised. Megan and Anoop have been together since tour (they claim they got together a month later, but Adam’s not an idiot - Megan might want to play off the time she ran into him on the way to the bathroom in the boy’s bus at three in the morning as a dream, but Adam vividly remembers her wearing one of Anoop’s hoodies, and he wouldn’t dream that) and, from what he’s heard, they’ve been doing really well. He turns the invitation over in his hands. Obviously.
He pads into his kitchen, still examining the invitation. For some reason, the pale purple ribbon tied around the corner really strikes him. It’s so girly, so Megan, and Adam is positive that Anoop had absolutely no say in that one. Anoop probably didn’t have a say in any of it, and Adam is pretty sure that Anoop didn’t want a say in it. Adam can just picture him, nodding and shrugging at every one of Megan’s suggestions. “Oh no, you’re not dragging me into this one, babe! You choose whatever will make you happy, and I’ll do my best to make you happy by showing up on the big day,” Adam can almost hear him say, because Anoop isn’t one for girly things like weddings and his main focus would definitely be on making Megan happy.
It’s that thought that reminds Adam how much he misses them.
He checks his voicemail next, and it’s Megan’s bubbly voice in his ear. He wonders why she didn’t call his cell.
“Hi baby! So listen, I know you’ve been super busy on tour and I didn’t want to bother you with this right away -”
Well, that explains it.
“-but I know you’ll be home in a few days so I figure I’ll just leave this for you. Did our invitation come yet? It should have, I sent it a week ago. Anyway! In case it didn’t - Anoop and I are getting married!” And he can hear the glee in her voice, and that alone makes him smile. “We’re doing it all kind of fast, but we really want you around for stuff. If you have time. Anyway, we’re having an engagement party on Saturday night and we really hope you can come! Everyone else is. Call me and let me know, okay baby? Love you! Muah!” The message clicks off, and Adam presses ‘7’ to delete.
Everyone else is. Those three little words both worry and excite him. He still loves the others, of course he does, even though he’s done a pretty shitty job of keeping in touch with them lately. Well, he’ll throw someone a text every once in awhile, and he and Kris will grab coffee if they run into one another at the 19E offices, but that’s about it. He’s been a pretty lousy friend. And he can use his career as an excuse all he wants, but he knows that he dropped the ball a little bit over the past year.
And he feels bad about that. Honestly, he does. He’s pretty sure Kris and Matt still talk, and Danny still visits Michael’s family every few months. He wishes he could’ve done better by them this year.
He turns the invitation over in his hands one more time. If he wants to make up for lost time, he might as well start now.
Adam’s got the phone to his ear at once, counting the rings. It’s a habit from when he was a kid and Noah Merchant taught him how to deal with girls calling - one ring’s too eager, two rings are just right, anything past four means you’re either not home or you’re ignoring the call. Megan picks up right as the third ring starts, her sunny voice already making him feel better.
“Hey, Megs, congratulations!”
***
Adam gets out of a meeting at 7:02, and manages to make it to the front doors of the ballroom by 7:45. He’s almost an hour late and he tugs guiltily at the sleeves of his jacket. Megan had never specified that the event was black tie, but from the people milling around he can tell he is underdressed. He mentally curses the late meeting for preventing him from changing and for making him look like a total unpunctual ass.
The look on Megan’s face when she sees him, though, tells him that she doesn’t care. She launches herself into his arms, squealing “Adam!”, and he thinks maybe it’ll all be okay after all.
He goes around the room giving hugs, though, and starts to think that maybe it won’t. Sure, the girls are warm and friendly, and Scott seems pleased that he’s here. Danny is exactly the same, and to no one’s surprise, Michael wraps him in a bear hug. And Kris and Katy, of course, are as sweet to him as ever. But Anoop seems anxious and Matt’s a little standoffish, and Adam feels guilty.
Megan leads him across the room to see her mother, and Adam grips her arm. She flashes him a quick smile that seems to say, “it’ll be okay”.
He really, really hopes she’s right.
***
Adam makes his escape to the men’s room as soon as he can, because aside from being a little awkward with his friends, he’s been moving since eleven this morning and has definitely had one too many sodas. On his way back to the ballroom a smooth piano catches his ear, and he makes a right instead of a left, curious.
Matt doesn’t look up and see him until Adam is halfway across the room, hands shoved in his pockets as he listens. Matt’s lips quirk up in a small smile but Adam shakes his head, and so Matt’s fingers keep running over the keys, riffing out a few chords as he watches Adam approach.
Matt finishes a run with a flourish, pulling his hands off the keys proudly. He turns to Adam, tucking one foot up under the crook of his knee.
“I miss hearing you play like that,” Adam says, leaning against the baby grand.
“You haven’t exactly been around to hear me,” Matt comments, and that stings Adam a little even though he knows it’s deserved.
“Ouch,” Adam mutters.
“Sorry.” Matt slides backwards on the piano bench, motioning for Adam to join him. “I know you’ve been too busy taking over the world, one sold-out show at a time.”
Adam aches a little bit, because he was so hoping that his friends wouldn’t be like this. He had hoped they’d forgive him for being so absent, had hoped that there wasn’t any resentment or jealousy to create any tension between them. He wants to kick himself for being the one to pull away and make it all happen. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, one finger reaching out to poke at the high C gently.
Matt’s own hand reaches out, fingers dancing out a quick descending scale from that same high C. “You remembered my first solo show, though,” Matt muses, “and gave me a call on my birthday.” He looks up at Adam and offers a smile. “Guess you didn’t do so bad for a superstar.” And there’s a hint of teasing in those words, something Adam used to hear daily on that damn tour bus, and he can’t help but smile back.
Matt shifts a little, plucking out a few arpeggios. Adam’s hand moves to the piano as well, attempting to mimic Matt’s movements a few octaves higher. His fingers slip and slide over the keys and create a clashing chord that no jazz band could ever hope to pull off successfully, and Matt chuckles.
“We’re proud of you, you know.”
Adam tilts his head. “We?”
“The guys. The others,” Matt explains, slowing down his fingers so that Adam can successfully follow along. “We give you a hard time, but that’s just because we miss you. I get all grinny whenever you pop up on the radio,” he admits, and Adam’s ducking his head to hide his own grin.
“I miss you guys too,” Adam admits, “and I hate that I don’t get to see you guys more.”
Matt shrugs. “This has been a good start.”
Adam watches as Matt’s fingers speed up, picking up the pace as he races over the keys. Can’t ever hold him back for long, Adam thinks fondly. “I think you’ve gotten better,” Adam admires.
“Yeah, well you’re still crap.”
“Hey!” Adam protests, but he’s laughing.
Matt pulls his hand off the keys and turns his body again to face Adam. “You have any free time now that the tour’s over?”
Adam shrugs. “More than I did. Why?”
“You want some more lessons? I mean, if you haven’t decided that you’re no longer interested.”
Adam remembers the couple times Matt tried to teach him to play on tour, sneaking into hotel lobbies late at night once most guests were asleep so that Adam could fail miserably without an audience. He remembers Matt’s patience, and he remembers making Matt laugh by crashing a terrible chord and then throwing up some jazz hands. He remembers, most of all, how much fun they had, and he nods.
“I’m still interested.”
***
The two make their way back to the ballroom after awhile, because it’s rude to abandon one’s friends, and also because Matt decides he really wants cake. They manage to take two steps into the room before Allison descends upon Adam, desperately wanting to pick his brain for tattoo ideas. Matt tosses out a couple suggestions (although Adam thinks that “Matt is the King” probably wouldn’t fly with her parents) and then wanders off to the refreshments table. Allison laughs as he goes.
“He’s still exactly the same,” she says fondly, watching as he descends upon the sheet cake. “Kind of comforting, you know?”
Adam nods. “And you? How’re you doing?” He can hear the sympathy in his words and he wishes he’d been able to keep that back.
Allison’s smile only wavers for a second. “Oh, I’m great!”
“Just because… I know you were dating your bassist… and then I heard he left the band, so I just wondered -”
“Yeah, well,” she shrugs, “it sucked, but that stuff happens. I just have to remember to pick a boyfriend who won’t run off with a socialite.”
“Maybe you remember to pick a boyfriend that’s still a teenager.”
“Maybe you shut up!”
But Allison’s laughing, and Adam wraps an arm around her shoulders, squeezing her gently. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll do my best.”
Allison soon extracts herself from Adam’s grip on the grounds of “having to pee like a racehorse, man!” and so Adam snags a cookie and makes his way over to Anoop, Matt and Kris, who have gathered in a tight circle on one side of the room. Their voices drop out immediately when they see him coming, and worry starts buzzing around inside him.
“Guys? What’s up?” Adam asks cautiously.
Kris and Matt look nervously to Anoop, who awkwardly clears his throat. “Oh, we’re just, um…”
Adam already regrets interrupting them. “Just what?”
“Um. Planning my bachelor party.”
“Oh!” Relief washes over Adam and his face breaks into a smile. He takes a step closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Does Megan not know you’re having one? Is this a secret bachelor party?” he asks, waving his hand at where Megan and two of her friends are standing nearby.
“No,” Anoop says awkwardly, feet shuffling a little. “It’s not that, it’s just… I haven’t really decided who I’m inviting yet.”
Adam’s stomach sinks, their immediate silence from before coming to mind. “Oh.”
“It’s not that I don’t want you there!” Anoop says at once, and he’s clearly all kinds of flustered. “I do! I just… well, there will be a stripper. Like, a female stripper.” He’s blushing now, and a smile starts creeping over Adam’s face because now he understands Anoop’s worries. “I just wasn’t sure if you’d want to be around something like that.”
Adam’s laughing, mostly at the complete look of confusion on Anoop’s face. “You just don’t want me to be scared of the lady bits, is that it?”
Anoop’s cheeks are burning. “Well…”
Adam turns and marches over to Megan, interrupting her conversation with her friends. “Excuse me, ladies,” Adam says politely, nodding at them.
Then he wraps an arm around Megan’s waist, curves her backwards, and dips her into a kiss.
They don’t kiss for long, and Adam’s pretty sure her eyes are open and staring at him the whole time, but half the room turns to stare and Matt and Kris are hollering “Ooh, I wouldn’t!” in his direction, clapping gleefully next to a shell-shocked Anoop.
Adam pulls his lips back from Megan’s and whispers “Sorry,” before lifting her upright and turning back to face Anoop with a wolfish grin.
“I think I’ll handle your bachelor party just fine.”
***
Matt’s house is nicer than Adam expects. If someone had asked Adam when he woke up that morning, he’d have described pizza boxes, a Wii, probably a big screen TV. Something very college-boy, even though Adam’s fully aware that Matt hasn’t been a college boy for four years. That’s just the vibe Adam expects. But no, he steps inside and is greeted with stucco walls, warm colours, plants everywhere - he can tell Matt has worked hard. It’s the kind of décor that someone works hard on once and then prays he’ll never have to do it again. Which, come to think of it, Adam feels is very Matt.
“Writing TV songs isn’t as glamorous as what you do, but it pays well,” Matt grins as he leads Adam through the foyer.
“I’ll say,” Adam replies, taking in the sight of the shiny grand piano against a bank of windows.
“She’s nice, right?” Matt says fondly, running a hand along the glossy black surface.
“She?”
“Yeah, I call her Katarina,” Matt explains, and then plants his hands on his hips when he sees the look Adam’s giving him. “What?!”
“Nothing! I’m very happy for you and your replacement girlfriend.”
“Shut up,” Matt shoves him playfully. “You want to learn or what?”
Adam sinks down on the piano bench, palms facing outward as an apology. “Teach me your ways, Obi-Wan.”
Adam’s no better at this than he was a year ago, and he’s disappointed to find that knowing how to read music does not translate to being able to play it with his fingers. He can see a progression on a piece of paper and can sing it in his sleep, but the second he tries to make his muscles work properly to play it out, he’s floundering like a kid who’s strapped on ice skates for the first time. Matt’s patient, though, and explains things two, three times without ever sounding annoyed. Adam appreciates that - until an hour has passed and he’s still tripping up over a scale, of course. At that point, he is very sure that it’s break time.
“Aw, come on, you’re not that bad,” Matt offers as he moves towards the kitchen on the promise of hot chocolate.
Adam relocates to the couch, sprawling out across the red cushions. “I can’t play Heart and Soul.”
“Heart and Soul is hard!” Matt’s voice floats out from a cabinet.
“Five-year-olds play Heart and Soul.”
They’re interrupted by the phone, ringing sharply on the end table beside Adam’s head.
“You wanna grab that?” Matt calls, so Adam rolls over and fumbles for the receiver.
“Matt’s place, Adam speaking.”
“Um. Hi. Is Matt there?” It’s a male voice, deep and unrecognizable. Adam clambers to his feet and crosses into the kitchen.
“Yeah, he’s right here. Hang on.”
Adam passes off the phone to Matt, who mouths “Who?” Adam shrugs.
“Hello?”
Adam moves back into the living room, more to be polite than anything else. He’s not trying to eavesdrop, but Matt’s never been one for whispering.
“Look, I told you that you can come by and get your stuff tonight. No, I’m busy now, I said after five. No! I’m giving a lesson. Oh come on, are you kidding me? What do you care? No, he’s just a friend. No! You know what, I don’t know why I’m defending myself to you. I can do what I want now. Fine, whatever. Bye.”
Adam recognizes this conversation. He’s had this conversation. And that coupled with the deep voice he’d heard has his brain turning too fast for him to speak.
After a minute, Matt slowly returns to the living room, gently putting the receiver back in its base. He then sinks down heavily onto the couch next to Adam.
“I guess you heard most of that.”
“You don’t talk very quietly.”
Matt breathes out a laugh, eyes not meeting Adam’s. “So… are you mad?”
“Mad?” Adam repeats.
“I don’t know. That I didn’t tell you, or something. That we never stayed up late on the bus to bond over our mutual preference for penis.”
Adam whacks his shoulder. “No, I’m not mad. Surprised, mostly.”
“You didn’t know?” Matt asks, looking up at him in surprise.
“No, not at all,” Adam says. “I mean, you were a master flirt with your fans. And with waitresses. And with receptionists. And with Megan.”
“You ever heard of over-compensating?”
Adam shrugs. “Guess I’m just an idiot.”
“Eh. I was the one that was too scared to tell anyone and then picked a total jackass for my first boyfriend. I think I’ll take that idiot title, thank you.”
“What happened?” Adam asks cautiously, not wanting to push.
Matt sighs heavily. “He was one of those guys, you know? Always told me how important I was, always worried when I mentioned the name of another dude, but was never actually around. I can’t tell you how many times he’d call at the last minute to tell me he ‘just wasn’t going to make it tonight’. He didn’t want me, but he sure as hell didn’t want anyone else to have me, either.” He rolls his eyes and Adam sympathizes. He’s been there. “I mean, we broke up weeks ago and he has the gall to grill me about having you over!”
“Well, you know, I am a threat.”
Matt grins. “Cocky.”
“Didn’t you promise me hot chocolate?”
“Yeah yeah, I’m going. Keep your shirt on.”
“We’ll see,” Adam winks, and Matt laughs his way to the kitchen. Adam leans back on the sofa, pleased with himself. He wasn’t able to be there for Matt when he was too scared to tell people the truth, and he wasn’t able to be there for him when he was dealing with Mr. Jackass. But he could make him laugh now. If anything, it was a start.
***
Adam gets back into the studio in late January, armed with a whole list of couplets he’s dying to set to music. He really feels like he saw a lot out on the road - learned a lot - and more than anything, he wants to have his hand deeper into the writing of this album. He doesn’t just want to identify with songs. He wants to live them.
He’s around a large table with his manager and PR people and some label executives and a twitchy assistant who trembled when she handed him a cup of coffee, listening to a discussion of potential collaborations. The label loves the idea of pairing him up with Ryan Tedder again, and he’s already thrown around Davey Havok’s name half a dozen times. They’re debating the pros and cons of co-writing with Kara again when he feels his phone vibrate.
Adam fishes his phone out of his pocket, trying to be subtle in order to save himself from a scolding. Matt’s name is on the screen, and he hits a button to read the text.
i know theres no lesson scheduled for tonite… any chance ur free anyway?
Adam runs through his calendar in his mind. They should be out of here by four, and he doesn’t have dinner plans.
sure, he types back. whats up?
His phone vibrates almost at once. i dunno. bored. pizza and a movie? ur pick.
i’m not letting you get mushrooms on our pizza. that shit is disgusting.
Adam can picture Matt’s eyes rolling as he reads, and he accidentally chuckles as he reads Matt’s reply. ugh. diva. why r we even friends.
“Adam?”
Adam looks up quickly, hand pushing his phone deeper out of sight under the table and tries to appear as if he was fully paying attention to their conversation. “Hm?”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry about that,” he apologizes, and is careful to stay tuned in as they discuss the possibility of a duet with Madonna. Which, Adam thinks, is something that even his group of miracle-workers couldn’t pull off. He keeps his opinion to himself, though, and instead ducks his head to send Matt another text.
were friends bc you cant resist my charm and hot body. ill come by at six. im bringing a season of sex and the city.
He gets oh my god, im already regretting inviting u back.
Adam smiles to himself. Tuning back into the present conversation, he immediately wants to kill himself because it seems he’s missed the opportunity to say no to working with Kanye. He’s in the midst of wondering how to get out of that one when his phone buzzes again. Matt.
ur actually coming, though, right?
Adam can’t help but smile at the adorable insecurity emanating from those five words, and he immediately types back of course. i’d never ditch you!
Adam’s phone vibrates a few seconds later.
just checking.
***
In just over an hour, Adam and Matt manage to devour a whole extra-large pizza, a basket of garlic fingers, several cans of soda, and three episodes of Sex and the City. In that same time frame, Adam has had to smack Matt and shush his whining at least ten times.
“I am never watching Carrie Bradshaw with you again,” Adam declares as episode three comes to an end.
“Thank god!”
Adam whacks Matt over the head with a pillow. “I should revoke your gay card. Not liking Sex and the City is a criminal offense.”
“Whatever, man, they talk about shoes too much.”
“This coming from the guy with five hundred dollar designer sunglasses.”
“Five hundred dollar men’s designer sunglasses,” Matt emphasizes. “Just ‘cause I like dick doesn’t mean I want to sit around and talk about women’s fashion.”
“Crude,” Adam laughs. Nevertheless, he grapples for the remote to start the next episode.
“You’re lucky Charlotte is hot,” Matt mutters from his place on the couch.
Adam scoffs. “Okay, your gay card is definitely being taken away.”
“What! You call Lady Gaga hot all the time.”
“Uh, because it’s Lady Gaga.”
“Shut up and let me aesthetically appreciate Charlotte’s female beauty,” Matt says, quoting back Adam’s own words from a recent magazine article. Adam makes a face at him but shuts his mouth.
They’re silent for the first ten minutes of the episode, until Matt asks, “So which of the guys in this show are you into? And if you say Mr. Big I’m going to puke.”
Adam laughs, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. “No, definitely not.” He pauses, staring at the screen thoughtfully. “I don’t know. Jazz Man is pretty hot.”
“Really?” Matt asks, quirking his head to study Carrie’s boyfriend-du-jour onscreen. “You think?”
“Yeah,” Adam shrugs. “He’s intense, you know? Focused. Especially on music. He’s got those hands…” he trails off, tilting his head to look at Matt. “But he’s fun too - like, he totally gets Carrie to loosen up. That’s a good combo.”
Matt nods in appreciation, turning back to watch Charlotte and Trey’s antics. Adam’s gaze, however, remains on Matt as he runs his words through his mind again. Focused… talented… fun…
“What?” Matt asks, looking back at him.
“Oh,” Adam says, shaking his head. “Nothing, sorry.” Matt tosses him an easy smile and glances back towards the TV, oblivious. Meanwhile, Adam is left reeling.
Holy shit.
***
The bachelor party happens in mid-March, several weeks before the wedding because it’s the only day that works for all the boys. Anoop entrusted the planning to David, Pablo and Brandon, buddies from the Clef Hangers, and they’d taken it upon themselves to book a VIP package at The Score, one of LA’s classier strip clubs. They were a small group - the three Clefs, Matt, Kris, Adam, Danny, and Anoop, man of honour. Scott had regretfully declined, opting instead to play a charity event and promising to bring an extra-special gift to the wedding. Michael had fully intended to come, had even gotten permission from his wife, but had to cancel last minute on account of two kids with nasty cases of chicken pox. So only eight boys are led past the long lineup outside, ducking around the velvet ropes to seat themselves in their private section of the club.
“So Katy really let you come to a place with half-naked ladies!” Matt exclaims as they get settled, clapping Kris on the shoulder. “You are one lucky man.”
Kris grins at the group, reaching for the bottle of vodka on the table. “I can look but not touch. And she’s going out dancing with her friends tonight. I figure the real party will start once we both get home.” Kris wiggles his eyebrows, and receives a few appreciative hollers for his efforts.
Shots are passed out and Adam raises his glass high. “To Anoop’s good fortune!”
“To his hot wife!” David adds, and Anoop rolls his eyes good-naturedly as he downs his vodka.
They’re soon greeted by two dancers, Esmeralda and Margarita, who sashay over to their table in stilettos and barely-there dresses. Esmeralda runs a hand through her black curls and scans the group. “I hear we have a groom-to-be in the room!”
Adam gamely shoves Anoop to his feet, grinning at his flushed cheeks. “Right over here, ladies.”
Esmeralda and Margarita are on him at once, pulling him from the booth and out onto the floor to dance. They press in on either side of him, and Anoop moves awkwardly to the techno beat, laughing as he tries to figure out what to do with his hands. The others hoot and holler after him as they pour more shots.
“Bottoms up, boys,” Adam grins, and resolutely pounds back the shot.
Two more shots later, the dancers are dragging them all up out of their seats and forcing them onto the dance floor. Adam can’t help but laugh when he catches glances of his friends - Pablo dancing up on Margarita, Kris awkwardly attempting to dance without touching anyone, Danny trying to avert his gaze from the dancers onstage but failing miserably. Adam moves his hips gamely, spending more time paying attention to the people around him than on his actual movements. But after a few minutes, Esmeralda sidles up to him, slipping in front of him and rotating her hips against his groin.
“Having fun?” she asks in a soft voice.
“Yeah,” he murmurs back, because he’s got a drink in his hand and music in his ears, and what’s not to like about this situation, really?
It’s not long after he thinks this that he looks up and sees Matt’s hands at Margarita’s waist and his hips swinging in time with hers, and he feels a flare of jealousy. Okay, there’s something he doesn’t like about this situation.
Adam extricates himself from Esmeralda’s hands as soon as is possible without looking like a jerk, and casually dances his way around the group until he’s beside Matt and Margarita. As the song changes to a faster beat, he steps forward, in front of Margarita, hand moving to her waist as he matches their movements.
“Having fun?” he asks in Matt’s ear, thankful for Margarita’s 5’3” frame.
“Sure!” Matt replies back, and maybe it’s the music or the alcohol or the jealousy, but Adam slides one of his hands down Margarita’s side so that it covers Matt’s. Matt’s eyes flicker to his own, and Adam can’t help but smirk just a little.
“Thought girls didn’t do it for you,” Adam says.
“They don’t. Alcohol and someone rubbing against me? That does.”
Adam leans forward just a touch, lips actually ghosting against Matt’s ear, hips still moving to the beat of the song. He’s turned on now, and the funny thing is, he’s pretty positive he’d want Matt this bad even if he was completely sober. “And what about me? Would I do it for you?”
Adam pulls back to see Matt’s reaction, and worries just for a second when he sees Matt’s wide eyes. But then Matt’s swallowing and licking his lips, and fuck, now Adam’s getting distracted. He raises his eyebrows, and Matt nods slowly in response.
“Come on,” Adam urges, stepping back from Margarita. He runs a finger down her arm and points her in the direction of Kris, a little sad that he won’t be sticking around to watch Kris attempt to deflect her. But then Matt’s looking at him expectantly and Adam’s pretty sure there’s a bulge in his pants that wasn’t there before they started dancing. So without another word, he turns and heads towards the men’s washroom, hoping that Matt actually follows him.
He does.
Adam slams him against the door of the bathroom the second it swings shut.
Adam’s kissed plenty of guys before, and the anticipation before each one is possibly his favourite part. He loves not knowing what it will be like - which person will be driving the kiss forward, if it’ll make his head buzz, if he’ll want to do it again the second they break apart. So he hovers, body pressed against Matt and an arm braced above his head against the door, his lips inches from Matt’s. He keeps his gaze on Matt, their eyes searching each other’s to make sure the other person is serious about this. Matt breaks first, finally groans and grabs Adam’s collar, pulling him down for the kiss, and Adam’s heart thuds. It’s even better that way.
Matt’s good, Adam notes happily - not too much teeth, just enough tongue. And then Matt nips his lip, and oh. Matt’s very good.
Adam’s lips move to his jaw, placing rough kisses against his stubbled cheek. He moves his mouth down over his neck and settles at his collarbone, taking a moment to pay it some attention. Matt’s sighing, head tilted back against the door. Adam presses their hips together, grinding against his erection, and smiles against skin when a garbled moan slips from Matt’s lips. His hands move to Matt’s fly, but Matt grabs his wrist.
“We can’t do anything out here,” Matt reminds him, a little out of breath. “In a stall, come on.”
Matt’s hands grip Adam’s hips and push him resolutely back into the first stall, letting go to lock the door behind him. The second they’re safely locked away, Adam’s fingers make quick work of his fly, getting Matt’s pants down past his knees in what he figures must be record time. He pauses to admire him, running one finger up his length slowly.
“Adam,” Matt chokes out, and his name on Matt’s lips pulls a smirk from him.
“I’ve got you,” Adam reassures him quietly, snaking down his body and settling himself on his knees.
He takes Matt in one hand, stroking him a few times, using the other to firmly plant his hip against the stall. Matt’s thigh is trembling, and Adam smiles, leaning forward to place a kiss against it. And then he moves sideways, sliding his tongue across the head just to hear Matt’s breath stutter. Satisfied, he takes him into his mouth.
Matt groans as Adam sucks him, head bobbing, trying to take in more of him every time he slides down. Adam knows he should warn him to be quiet, knows they’re in a straight club for fuck’s sake and that they could get in trouble if another guy walked in and heard them. The thought flies out of his mind, though, when Matt slides a hand through his hair, pushing his bangs out of the way so that Matt can see his eyes.
“Oh my god, Adam,” Matt hisses, and his voice basically goes straight to Adam’s cock. He pulls off Matt, feeling a little guilty when he hears Matt’s groan of displeasure, but he hurries to free himself from his jeans anyway. Wrapping one hand around himself, he brings his mouth back to Matt, sucking him in deep as his hand pumps himself furiously.
Neither of them last long - Matt’s head bumping the back of Adam’s throat is enough to push Matt over the edge. He shouts as he comes, and Adam keeps his mouth on him because the last thing they have time for is a major clean up. One, two more jerks are enough to finish Adam off, and Matt’s pulling him back to his feet the second he’s finished.
Matt kisses him deeply, and Adam’s sure Matt must be able to taste himself on Adam’s tongue. It doesn’t seem to deter him, so Adam kisses him back, happy and sated. They break apart to breathe and Adam leans down, pressing his forehead to Matt’s.
“Wasn’t expecting that tonight,” Matt says between breaths, and Adam laughs quietly.
“Sorry,” he apologizes. “I should’ve waited to do that until we were sober. And not in some dirty club bathroom.”
Matt shrugs. “At least you did it.”
Adam smiles, pulling away to clean himself off. They’ve been gone long enough and he’s surprised there hasn’t been a search party sent after them. He buckles his pants, and then leans forward, placing one more kiss against Matt’s mouth.
“Is this just going to happen the once?” Matt asks, and there’s a bit of a shake to his voice that Adam doesn’t like. He laces his fingers through Matt’s and shakes his head.
“I’d like to do this again,” Adam admits. “But maybe with dinner first.”
“Dinner,” Matt nods, a smile lighting up his features. “I could do dinner.”
“Good,” Adam agrees, and then he reaches around Matt and unlocks the stall door. “We’d better get back. When we left I pointed that dancer in the direction of Kris Allen and I’m dying to know how he got out of that one.”
***
They manage to slip back into the club unnoticed, much to Adam’s relief. Kris shoots him a look when he pours another drink, but Adam just smiles innocently back, because the last thing he wants to do is talk about everything that just happened while there is still a dancer hanging off Anoop.
Adam’s in the car on the way home (hired car service - the last thing he wants to risk is a DUI) trying not to fall asleep against the leather interior when his phone rings against his leg. Grappling for it, he’s surprised to see Matt’s name on the caller ID. But he lets it ring once - too eager -, twice, and then picks up just as the third ring begins. Just like Noah Merchant taught him in fifth grade.
“You’re supposed to be going home to sleep,” Adam mumbles into the phone.
“I’m outside my front door.”
“Then go in and go to bed, it’s late.”
“How’s Friday for dinner?”
Adam sits up a little bit. “You want to decide now?”
“Yeah,” Matt replies, and Adam can almost hear his shrug. “Unless you don’t want to anymore.”
“No, no, I want to,” Adam replies quickly. “Friday sounds good.”
“Not busy?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Cool,” Matt says. There’s a sleepy grin in his voice and that puts a smile on Adam’s face, too.
“Go to bed, Matt.”
“Get home safe, Adam.”
***
Adam’s cell wakes him up at eight on Friday morning. He groans, fumbling for it on his nightstand with his eyes still closed. He doesn’t bother counting the rings, because by the time he actually located it, he was way past the accepted number.
“Hello?” he mumbles, face still pressed against his pillow.
“Adam, I need you to get over to the studio.” He hears Michelle’s insistent voice, and tries to muffle his groan. He adores her and all - he honestly doesn’t think he could have dreamt up a better manager - but does she not realize what time it is? Does she not realize it’s his day off?
“Do you guys really need me today?” he asks.
“We’re bringing in Madonna at noon.”
Adam is suddenly very, very awake.
“You’re… Michelle, I think I just had a heart attack.”
She’s laughing in his ear, but he sees absolutely nothing funny about the situation. “We managed to pull some strings - some ridiculous, expensive strings - and she’s got a duet she wants to try with you. Just a demo recording, to see how things go. But she’s heading overseas tomorrow so we’ve got to do this today.”
Adam’s already hopping around his room and attempting to pull on socks, phone cradled against his shoulder. He freezes by his bedroom door, one hand clutching his leather jacket. Matt.
“Michelle, I’ve got… I have something really important at eight tonight.”
“That’s hours from now,” she assures him. “She can’t stay too long anyway - it’ll be a short session. You’ll be out in plenty of time. Don’t worry.”
He’s in his Mustang in ten seconds flat.
***
Madonna is, hands down, the most intense person he’s ever worked with.
The session doesn’t start off as well as he’d have liked, because he stumbles over his words and almost falls on his face when she tells him that her favourite song off his first album is “Fever”. He keeps blinking, hardly able to believe that he’s here with fucking Madonna, not as fan and celebrity but as co-artists. He wishes he could go back and tell that awkward fourteen-year-old to stop hiding his “Like a Virgin” album when his friends visited, that one day he’d be working with that woman because she respected his talent. He wondered if that would’ve helped. Maybe a little.
Adam mostly loves to watch her work. She’s methodical, she’s attentive, and it doesn’t matter that most of her hits were released when he was a kid because this woman knows exactly what she’s doing. He tries to commit it all to memory, tries to focus so intently on the session that even if the song never sees the light of day, he’ll have gotten everything he could out of this day.
They eventually pack up their things and she kisses him once on each cheek, sweeping out in an array of PR people, and Adam’s eyes rest on the studio clock just as the minute hand clicks over to eleven pm.
Fuck.
He digs his cell phone out of his bag, and sure enough - three missed calls and five texts, all labeled “Matt Giraud”. He swears under his breath as he dials Matt’s number. The phone only rings once before he hears Matt’s frantic voice.
“Adam! Adam, are you okay?!”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Adam replies, and his gut feels full of lead. “Matt, I’m so sorry.”
“Oh my god, I was so worried. You didn’t show at the restaurant, and you weren’t answering your phone, and no one had heard from you today - what happened to you?!”
“It was just… a recording session ran long.” Adam winces because he knows that answer is far less acceptable than, say, lying unconscious in a hospital bed or locked in an elevator without phone service.
There’s a long silence on the other end of the line, and Adam can hear his own heartbeat in his ears. Finally, Matt speaks, and the hurt in his voice is crystal clear. “You were in the studio? This whole time?”
“I fucked up, Matt, I’m -”
“You didn’t call,” Matt says, and he sounds a little confused. “If you had a session and couldn’t make it, that’s fine, I get that. But you didn’t even try to let me know. You just… I waited for you for an hour. I was worried.”
“I wasn’t thinking, Matt, I -”
“I can tell,” Matt says quietly.
They’re both quiet for a minute, and the silence hurts more than Matt’s actual voice. Adam’s head drops into his hand. This is so not how he wanted their evening to go.
“Look,” Matt speaks again, and Adam sends a quick prayer to someone - God, Allah, Ra, whatever the hell is up there - pleading that Matt would ask to reschedule. “Let’s just forget it.”
“Forget what?” Adam asks, because he’s not sure if Matt means the date or the screw-up, and he’s hoping so hard for the latter.
“This,” Matt replies, and Adam’s heart sinks. “You’re busy. Your career comes first. That’s just how it is. And I just don’t think… I can’t be an afterthought in a relationship. Not again.”
“Matt -”
“I’ll see you, Adam.”
Adam hits ‘redial’ the second Matt hangs up, because the last thing he wants to do is let Matt go away mad. The phone rings once, twice, three times, and he’s clutching it so hard his knuckles are white. Four, five, six… it clicks over to voicemail after the eighth ring, and Adam ends the call without speaking.
Anything past four rings means you’re being ignored.
***
“I fucked up.”
“Hello to you too, Adam.”
Adam strides past Kris and into his foyer, turning to look at him as Kris closes the door. Adam isn’t over at Kris’s place a lot, because of conflicting schedules and a bunch of other pretty lame excuses that they both used in the past year. But Kris is good with advice, and he knows Matt. He knows both of them. If there is anyone who’ll be able to help him with this, it’ll be Kris.
“I fucked up bad, Kris.”
“Yes, so I’ve gathered,” Kris smirks, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “All right, tell me what happened.”
So Adam launches into the whole story - starts back when Matt offers him piano lessons, explains about finding out Matt was gay and Sex and the City parties and blowjobs in cramped bathroom stalls. He blushes when he gets to his actual mistake, because he’s not exactly proud, but he doesn’t sugarcoat it or make it any less his fault. When he finishes, he lets out a breath and raises his eyebrows at Kris, waiting for him to speak. Kris re-crosses his arms.
“So, Matt’s gay.”
“Is that really the part you’re focusing on?” Adam runs a frustrated hand through his hair.
“Nah, I’m just surprised he finally admitted it.”
“You knew?”
“It’s not like he told me,” Kris says, scratching absent-mindedly at the back of his neck. “I just figured, you know? All the flirting with girls and the way he’d joke around with you, and stuff.”
“The way he’d joke around with me?”
“Yeah. You really didn’t know he liked dudes, huh?”
“No!” Adam blinks at him. “I just never thought about it! And what’s that about the way he’d joke around with me?”
“You should have your gaydar checked,” Kris muses.
“Kris. Focus.”
“Man, he was always joking around with you on tour, teasing you and making fun of you and stuff.”
“He made fun of everyone.”
“Not like that he didn’t. With you he might as well have been pulling your pigtails and pinching your arm,” Kris explains.
“You are so weird.”
“You want my help or not?”
“Go on.”
“I’m just saying, he’s been into you for longer than he’s been admitting that he’s into guys,” Kris says, “so I imagine that you standing him up kind of sucked. Not to mention, it sounds like his ex was pretty fond of doing the same thing.”
Adam sighs and sinks to the floor, back pressed against the wall and arms wrapped around his knees. “Fuck.”
“You going to call him again?” Kris asks.
Adam looks up at him and shakes his head. “You didn’t hear him. He doesn’t want to have anything to do with me.”
“Look,” Kris says, and he crosses the room so that he can slide down the wall next to Adam. “You’ve got the albums and the tours and the awards and all that stuff’s great, right? But I mean… what’s the point of all that good stuff if you’re doing it alone?”
Adam drops his head on his knees and exhales loudly. He hates it when Kris is right.
***
The morning of April fourth dawns clear and sunny in Los Angeles, and down at the Park Plaza, dozens of workers line up white chairs, arrange bouquets, and set up buffet tables for the Knudsen-Desai wedding. Meanwhile, out in West Hollywood, Adam Lambert’s hands shake as he ties his tie.
He hasn’t seen Matt in two weeks, and the end of their last phone conversation had hardly been encouraging. But he knows Matt will be at this wedding, wouldn’t miss out on this to hide from Adam no matter how much Matt might want to. Adam fiddles with his cuff links and examines himself in the mirror. The suit helps with the confident exterior, he figures. If he’s a mess on the inside, the least he can do is be put together on the outside.
The ceremony is scheduled to start at three, and Adam pulls his Mustang up to the hotel at a little after two. He passes off the keys to the valet and makes his way inside, unsure as to where he’s supposed to be. He rounds a corner in one of the long hallways and is surprised to see Megan’s head peeking out through a doorway.
“Oh, thank god, Adam! Can you help me?”
He moves towards her, concerned. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Megan replies, opening the door a little wider for him. “I just can’t reach the zipper on this thing and all of my bridesmaids stepped out for a minute -”
Adam reaches for her, running a hand over the tulle descending from her waist. He raises his eyes up to her face and offers her a broad grin. “You look so beautiful.”
Megan blushes a little but keeps her composure, turning around impatiently. “Come on, zip me into this thing.”
He does so, smoothing the fabric over her back once he’s done. “There. Perfect. Noop’s going to have a heart attack.”
She laughs. “One can only hope.”
He wishes her good luck and backs away, because he knows she still has lots of preparing to do and not a lot of time. Before she closes the door to her suite, she pauses and leans against the doorframe. “You okay, babe?”
“Hm?”
“You look a little worried.”
Adam shakes his head, doing his best to keep his smile intact. “I just have to find someone before the ceremony, that’s all. Good luck, gorgeous.”
He’s not expecting to run into that someone the second he rounds the next corner.
There’s no reason for Matt to look any different, not in two weeks, and Adam knows this. But there’s something about the suit on him - Matt looks more grown up, more serious. Like someone ready for the real world.
Adam wonders if anyone thinks that when they look at him.
When Matt spots him, he freezes up a little, turning his head as if to see if running in the opposite direction would make it all go away. Before he can move, though, Adam strides forward. “Matt.”
Matt doesn’t want to make eye contact, that much is obvious. “Adam. Hey.”
“How are you?” Adam could kick himself. If he wastes this whole chance on formalities, he’s going to have to get someone to shoot him and put him out of his misery.
“I’m all right,” Matt shrugs. “Keeping busy, you know. You?”
And it’s all so false that Adam rakes a hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, I don’t want to make chit chat.”
“And I don’t want to talk about anything else.” Matt turns and moves to walk away, but Adam’s hand clasps around his wrist before he can get too far. Matt swivels back towards him, a pained look on his face. More than anything, Adam wants to make that look go away.
“Matt, I’m sorry,” Adam insists, and he keeps his fingers around Matt’s wrist just in case he tries to run again. “I got caught up and I didn’t call and that sucks. I know you’ve had that happen to you before and I don’t want to do that again. I’m not that guy, Matt, I swear I’m not.”
Matt shuffles his feet. “Okay,” he says quietly, and that frustrates Adam because he knows Matt doesn’t believe him.
“I mean it,” he insists. “I like you a lot, Matt. And the last thing I want to do is hurt you again.
“And what about your career?” Matt asks, and Adam aches a little because he knows that’s a problem. “What about the next time a session goes long, or there’s an impromptu gig in another city? What’s going to happen to us then?”
“I don’t…” Adam runs a hand over his face. “I don’t have all the answers yet.”
“I can’t be an afterthought, Adam, I’m sorry. I did that once and I’m not doing it again.”
“Hey,” Adam says, and he steps in a little closer. “I don’t have all the answers yet, but I’m going to. I’m going to get us there. Because the last thing you should ever be is an afterthought.” And then Adam leans in and kisses him.
Matt is unresponsive at first, which Adam doesn’t mind - he’s not getting punched in the gut, and he considers that a small triumph. He’s persistent, hand sliding around to the back of Matt’s neck, pulling him in deeper, and finally he feels a give and Matt’s kissing him too, hand sliding up his arm and fingers gripping his dress shirt.
Adam pulls back but doesn’t let go, choosing to keep Matt close as they try to catch their breath. “Do you hate me?” Adam whispers.
Matt breathes out a laugh. “No,” he admits.
“Can we try this again?”
Matt presses his forehead against Adam’s and traces a line over his chest. “Yeah, we can try this again.”
Adam can’t stop himself from kissing him one more time. They’re both smiling too wide for a proper kiss and they eventually break apart, laughing. Adam winds his fingers through Matt’s and squeezes his hand.
“Let’s go watch our friends get married.”
end.
Author: kissoffools / wakeyourheart
Pairing: Adam Lambert/Matt Giraud (with Megan Joy/Anoop Desai undertones)
Rating: R
Summary: Adam Lambert has never been good at putting people before his career. He's also never been good at playing the piano. And if you asked him now, a year and a half after Idol, he'd tell you that he doesn't expect that to change anytime soon.
Disclaimer: Yes. I can see into the future and tell you that this is exactly what's going to happen a year from now. This is 100% real because I am just that good.
Notes: Written as part of the DonorsChoose charity auction for dreadnought, who asked for a longer Madam fic in which friends fall in love. Word count: 8620. So many thanks to the amazing lyingdelilaah, who was with me every step of the way on this and kept an eye on Adam to make sure he didn't get out of hand. She's a superstar. Thanks to oatmeal_cookie for pointing out all my stupid spelling mistakes, dreadnought for letting me twist her prompt when the inspiration just wasn't there, actress_is_me and logannie for being my Meganoop experts, my Twitter feed for answering my questions when I was too lazy to Google, and ch_ch_chinatown for shipping Madam with me months before it was cool to do so.
Adam returns home from five months of his first solo tour to two things: a blinking answering machine and a square, cream-coloured envelope.
He goes for the envelope first, slicing it open with his finger right there in the hallway. There’s a stack of other mail, of course, bills and flyers and several months worth of catalogues, but this one catches his eye immediately. It’s rather thick and the paper feels expensive, his name and address written in calligraphy on the front. When he slides the card out, he realizes it’s an invitation and idly hopes he didn’t miss something important.
You are cordially invited to celebrate
the wedding of
Megan Joy Knudsen
and
Anoop Manoj Desai
on the fourth of April
at three o’clock
Adam blinks at the invitation for several seconds, not really sure why he’s surprised. Megan and Anoop have been together since tour (they claim they got together a month later, but Adam’s not an idiot - Megan might want to play off the time she ran into him on the way to the bathroom in the boy’s bus at three in the morning as a dream, but Adam vividly remembers her wearing one of Anoop’s hoodies, and he wouldn’t dream that) and, from what he’s heard, they’ve been doing really well. He turns the invitation over in his hands. Obviously.
He pads into his kitchen, still examining the invitation. For some reason, the pale purple ribbon tied around the corner really strikes him. It’s so girly, so Megan, and Adam is positive that Anoop had absolutely no say in that one. Anoop probably didn’t have a say in any of it, and Adam is pretty sure that Anoop didn’t want a say in it. Adam can just picture him, nodding and shrugging at every one of Megan’s suggestions. “Oh no, you’re not dragging me into this one, babe! You choose whatever will make you happy, and I’ll do my best to make you happy by showing up on the big day,” Adam can almost hear him say, because Anoop isn’t one for girly things like weddings and his main focus would definitely be on making Megan happy.
It’s that thought that reminds Adam how much he misses them.
He checks his voicemail next, and it’s Megan’s bubbly voice in his ear. He wonders why she didn’t call his cell.
“Hi baby! So listen, I know you’ve been super busy on tour and I didn’t want to bother you with this right away -”
Well, that explains it.
“-but I know you’ll be home in a few days so I figure I’ll just leave this for you. Did our invitation come yet? It should have, I sent it a week ago. Anyway! In case it didn’t - Anoop and I are getting married!” And he can hear the glee in her voice, and that alone makes him smile. “We’re doing it all kind of fast, but we really want you around for stuff. If you have time. Anyway, we’re having an engagement party on Saturday night and we really hope you can come! Everyone else is. Call me and let me know, okay baby? Love you! Muah!” The message clicks off, and Adam presses ‘7’ to delete.
Everyone else is. Those three little words both worry and excite him. He still loves the others, of course he does, even though he’s done a pretty shitty job of keeping in touch with them lately. Well, he’ll throw someone a text every once in awhile, and he and Kris will grab coffee if they run into one another at the 19E offices, but that’s about it. He’s been a pretty lousy friend. And he can use his career as an excuse all he wants, but he knows that he dropped the ball a little bit over the past year.
And he feels bad about that. Honestly, he does. He’s pretty sure Kris and Matt still talk, and Danny still visits Michael’s family every few months. He wishes he could’ve done better by them this year.
He turns the invitation over in his hands one more time. If he wants to make up for lost time, he might as well start now.
Adam’s got the phone to his ear at once, counting the rings. It’s a habit from when he was a kid and Noah Merchant taught him how to deal with girls calling - one ring’s too eager, two rings are just right, anything past four means you’re either not home or you’re ignoring the call. Megan picks up right as the third ring starts, her sunny voice already making him feel better.
“Hey, Megs, congratulations!”
***
Adam gets out of a meeting at 7:02, and manages to make it to the front doors of the ballroom by 7:45. He’s almost an hour late and he tugs guiltily at the sleeves of his jacket. Megan had never specified that the event was black tie, but from the people milling around he can tell he is underdressed. He mentally curses the late meeting for preventing him from changing and for making him look like a total unpunctual ass.
The look on Megan’s face when she sees him, though, tells him that she doesn’t care. She launches herself into his arms, squealing “Adam!”, and he thinks maybe it’ll all be okay after all.
He goes around the room giving hugs, though, and starts to think that maybe it won’t. Sure, the girls are warm and friendly, and Scott seems pleased that he’s here. Danny is exactly the same, and to no one’s surprise, Michael wraps him in a bear hug. And Kris and Katy, of course, are as sweet to him as ever. But Anoop seems anxious and Matt’s a little standoffish, and Adam feels guilty.
Megan leads him across the room to see her mother, and Adam grips her arm. She flashes him a quick smile that seems to say, “it’ll be okay”.
He really, really hopes she’s right.
***
Adam makes his escape to the men’s room as soon as he can, because aside from being a little awkward with his friends, he’s been moving since eleven this morning and has definitely had one too many sodas. On his way back to the ballroom a smooth piano catches his ear, and he makes a right instead of a left, curious.
Matt doesn’t look up and see him until Adam is halfway across the room, hands shoved in his pockets as he listens. Matt’s lips quirk up in a small smile but Adam shakes his head, and so Matt’s fingers keep running over the keys, riffing out a few chords as he watches Adam approach.
Matt finishes a run with a flourish, pulling his hands off the keys proudly. He turns to Adam, tucking one foot up under the crook of his knee.
“I miss hearing you play like that,” Adam says, leaning against the baby grand.
“You haven’t exactly been around to hear me,” Matt comments, and that stings Adam a little even though he knows it’s deserved.
“Ouch,” Adam mutters.
“Sorry.” Matt slides backwards on the piano bench, motioning for Adam to join him. “I know you’ve been too busy taking over the world, one sold-out show at a time.”
Adam aches a little bit, because he was so hoping that his friends wouldn’t be like this. He had hoped they’d forgive him for being so absent, had hoped that there wasn’t any resentment or jealousy to create any tension between them. He wants to kick himself for being the one to pull away and make it all happen. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, one finger reaching out to poke at the high C gently.
Matt’s own hand reaches out, fingers dancing out a quick descending scale from that same high C. “You remembered my first solo show, though,” Matt muses, “and gave me a call on my birthday.” He looks up at Adam and offers a smile. “Guess you didn’t do so bad for a superstar.” And there’s a hint of teasing in those words, something Adam used to hear daily on that damn tour bus, and he can’t help but smile back.
Matt shifts a little, plucking out a few arpeggios. Adam’s hand moves to the piano as well, attempting to mimic Matt’s movements a few octaves higher. His fingers slip and slide over the keys and create a clashing chord that no jazz band could ever hope to pull off successfully, and Matt chuckles.
“We’re proud of you, you know.”
Adam tilts his head. “We?”
“The guys. The others,” Matt explains, slowing down his fingers so that Adam can successfully follow along. “We give you a hard time, but that’s just because we miss you. I get all grinny whenever you pop up on the radio,” he admits, and Adam’s ducking his head to hide his own grin.
“I miss you guys too,” Adam admits, “and I hate that I don’t get to see you guys more.”
Matt shrugs. “This has been a good start.”
Adam watches as Matt’s fingers speed up, picking up the pace as he races over the keys. Can’t ever hold him back for long, Adam thinks fondly. “I think you’ve gotten better,” Adam admires.
“Yeah, well you’re still crap.”
“Hey!” Adam protests, but he’s laughing.
Matt pulls his hand off the keys and turns his body again to face Adam. “You have any free time now that the tour’s over?”
Adam shrugs. “More than I did. Why?”
“You want some more lessons? I mean, if you haven’t decided that you’re no longer interested.”
Adam remembers the couple times Matt tried to teach him to play on tour, sneaking into hotel lobbies late at night once most guests were asleep so that Adam could fail miserably without an audience. He remembers Matt’s patience, and he remembers making Matt laugh by crashing a terrible chord and then throwing up some jazz hands. He remembers, most of all, how much fun they had, and he nods.
“I’m still interested.”
***
The two make their way back to the ballroom after awhile, because it’s rude to abandon one’s friends, and also because Matt decides he really wants cake. They manage to take two steps into the room before Allison descends upon Adam, desperately wanting to pick his brain for tattoo ideas. Matt tosses out a couple suggestions (although Adam thinks that “Matt is the King” probably wouldn’t fly with her parents) and then wanders off to the refreshments table. Allison laughs as he goes.
“He’s still exactly the same,” she says fondly, watching as he descends upon the sheet cake. “Kind of comforting, you know?”
Adam nods. “And you? How’re you doing?” He can hear the sympathy in his words and he wishes he’d been able to keep that back.
Allison’s smile only wavers for a second. “Oh, I’m great!”
“Just because… I know you were dating your bassist… and then I heard he left the band, so I just wondered -”
“Yeah, well,” she shrugs, “it sucked, but that stuff happens. I just have to remember to pick a boyfriend who won’t run off with a socialite.”
“Maybe you remember to pick a boyfriend that’s still a teenager.”
“Maybe you shut up!”
But Allison’s laughing, and Adam wraps an arm around her shoulders, squeezing her gently. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll do my best.”
Allison soon extracts herself from Adam’s grip on the grounds of “having to pee like a racehorse, man!” and so Adam snags a cookie and makes his way over to Anoop, Matt and Kris, who have gathered in a tight circle on one side of the room. Their voices drop out immediately when they see him coming, and worry starts buzzing around inside him.
“Guys? What’s up?” Adam asks cautiously.
Kris and Matt look nervously to Anoop, who awkwardly clears his throat. “Oh, we’re just, um…”
Adam already regrets interrupting them. “Just what?”
“Um. Planning my bachelor party.”
“Oh!” Relief washes over Adam and his face breaks into a smile. He takes a step closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Does Megan not know you’re having one? Is this a secret bachelor party?” he asks, waving his hand at where Megan and two of her friends are standing nearby.
“No,” Anoop says awkwardly, feet shuffling a little. “It’s not that, it’s just… I haven’t really decided who I’m inviting yet.”
Adam’s stomach sinks, their immediate silence from before coming to mind. “Oh.”
“It’s not that I don’t want you there!” Anoop says at once, and he’s clearly all kinds of flustered. “I do! I just… well, there will be a stripper. Like, a female stripper.” He’s blushing now, and a smile starts creeping over Adam’s face because now he understands Anoop’s worries. “I just wasn’t sure if you’d want to be around something like that.”
Adam’s laughing, mostly at the complete look of confusion on Anoop’s face. “You just don’t want me to be scared of the lady bits, is that it?”
Anoop’s cheeks are burning. “Well…”
Adam turns and marches over to Megan, interrupting her conversation with her friends. “Excuse me, ladies,” Adam says politely, nodding at them.
Then he wraps an arm around Megan’s waist, curves her backwards, and dips her into a kiss.
They don’t kiss for long, and Adam’s pretty sure her eyes are open and staring at him the whole time, but half the room turns to stare and Matt and Kris are hollering “Ooh, I wouldn’t!” in his direction, clapping gleefully next to a shell-shocked Anoop.
Adam pulls his lips back from Megan’s and whispers “Sorry,” before lifting her upright and turning back to face Anoop with a wolfish grin.
“I think I’ll handle your bachelor party just fine.”
***
Matt’s house is nicer than Adam expects. If someone had asked Adam when he woke up that morning, he’d have described pizza boxes, a Wii, probably a big screen TV. Something very college-boy, even though Adam’s fully aware that Matt hasn’t been a college boy for four years. That’s just the vibe Adam expects. But no, he steps inside and is greeted with stucco walls, warm colours, plants everywhere - he can tell Matt has worked hard. It’s the kind of décor that someone works hard on once and then prays he’ll never have to do it again. Which, come to think of it, Adam feels is very Matt.
“Writing TV songs isn’t as glamorous as what you do, but it pays well,” Matt grins as he leads Adam through the foyer.
“I’ll say,” Adam replies, taking in the sight of the shiny grand piano against a bank of windows.
“She’s nice, right?” Matt says fondly, running a hand along the glossy black surface.
“She?”
“Yeah, I call her Katarina,” Matt explains, and then plants his hands on his hips when he sees the look Adam’s giving him. “What?!”
“Nothing! I’m very happy for you and your replacement girlfriend.”
“Shut up,” Matt shoves him playfully. “You want to learn or what?”
Adam sinks down on the piano bench, palms facing outward as an apology. “Teach me your ways, Obi-Wan.”
Adam’s no better at this than he was a year ago, and he’s disappointed to find that knowing how to read music does not translate to being able to play it with his fingers. He can see a progression on a piece of paper and can sing it in his sleep, but the second he tries to make his muscles work properly to play it out, he’s floundering like a kid who’s strapped on ice skates for the first time. Matt’s patient, though, and explains things two, three times without ever sounding annoyed. Adam appreciates that - until an hour has passed and he’s still tripping up over a scale, of course. At that point, he is very sure that it’s break time.
“Aw, come on, you’re not that bad,” Matt offers as he moves towards the kitchen on the promise of hot chocolate.
Adam relocates to the couch, sprawling out across the red cushions. “I can’t play Heart and Soul.”
“Heart and Soul is hard!” Matt’s voice floats out from a cabinet.
“Five-year-olds play Heart and Soul.”
They’re interrupted by the phone, ringing sharply on the end table beside Adam’s head.
“You wanna grab that?” Matt calls, so Adam rolls over and fumbles for the receiver.
“Matt’s place, Adam speaking.”
“Um. Hi. Is Matt there?” It’s a male voice, deep and unrecognizable. Adam clambers to his feet and crosses into the kitchen.
“Yeah, he’s right here. Hang on.”
Adam passes off the phone to Matt, who mouths “Who?” Adam shrugs.
“Hello?”
Adam moves back into the living room, more to be polite than anything else. He’s not trying to eavesdrop, but Matt’s never been one for whispering.
“Look, I told you that you can come by and get your stuff tonight. No, I’m busy now, I said after five. No! I’m giving a lesson. Oh come on, are you kidding me? What do you care? No, he’s just a friend. No! You know what, I don’t know why I’m defending myself to you. I can do what I want now. Fine, whatever. Bye.”
Adam recognizes this conversation. He’s had this conversation. And that coupled with the deep voice he’d heard has his brain turning too fast for him to speak.
After a minute, Matt slowly returns to the living room, gently putting the receiver back in its base. He then sinks down heavily onto the couch next to Adam.
“I guess you heard most of that.”
“You don’t talk very quietly.”
Matt breathes out a laugh, eyes not meeting Adam’s. “So… are you mad?”
“Mad?” Adam repeats.
“I don’t know. That I didn’t tell you, or something. That we never stayed up late on the bus to bond over our mutual preference for penis.”
Adam whacks his shoulder. “No, I’m not mad. Surprised, mostly.”
“You didn’t know?” Matt asks, looking up at him in surprise.
“No, not at all,” Adam says. “I mean, you were a master flirt with your fans. And with waitresses. And with receptionists. And with Megan.”
“You ever heard of over-compensating?”
Adam shrugs. “Guess I’m just an idiot.”
“Eh. I was the one that was too scared to tell anyone and then picked a total jackass for my first boyfriend. I think I’ll take that idiot title, thank you.”
“What happened?” Adam asks cautiously, not wanting to push.
Matt sighs heavily. “He was one of those guys, you know? Always told me how important I was, always worried when I mentioned the name of another dude, but was never actually around. I can’t tell you how many times he’d call at the last minute to tell me he ‘just wasn’t going to make it tonight’. He didn’t want me, but he sure as hell didn’t want anyone else to have me, either.” He rolls his eyes and Adam sympathizes. He’s been there. “I mean, we broke up weeks ago and he has the gall to grill me about having you over!”
“Well, you know, I am a threat.”
Matt grins. “Cocky.”
“Didn’t you promise me hot chocolate?”
“Yeah yeah, I’m going. Keep your shirt on.”
“We’ll see,” Adam winks, and Matt laughs his way to the kitchen. Adam leans back on the sofa, pleased with himself. He wasn’t able to be there for Matt when he was too scared to tell people the truth, and he wasn’t able to be there for him when he was dealing with Mr. Jackass. But he could make him laugh now. If anything, it was a start.
***
Adam gets back into the studio in late January, armed with a whole list of couplets he’s dying to set to music. He really feels like he saw a lot out on the road - learned a lot - and more than anything, he wants to have his hand deeper into the writing of this album. He doesn’t just want to identify with songs. He wants to live them.
He’s around a large table with his manager and PR people and some label executives and a twitchy assistant who trembled when she handed him a cup of coffee, listening to a discussion of potential collaborations. The label loves the idea of pairing him up with Ryan Tedder again, and he’s already thrown around Davey Havok’s name half a dozen times. They’re debating the pros and cons of co-writing with Kara again when he feels his phone vibrate.
Adam fishes his phone out of his pocket, trying to be subtle in order to save himself from a scolding. Matt’s name is on the screen, and he hits a button to read the text.
i know theres no lesson scheduled for tonite… any chance ur free anyway?
Adam runs through his calendar in his mind. They should be out of here by four, and he doesn’t have dinner plans.
sure, he types back. whats up?
His phone vibrates almost at once. i dunno. bored. pizza and a movie? ur pick.
i’m not letting you get mushrooms on our pizza. that shit is disgusting.
Adam can picture Matt’s eyes rolling as he reads, and he accidentally chuckles as he reads Matt’s reply. ugh. diva. why r we even friends.
“Adam?”
Adam looks up quickly, hand pushing his phone deeper out of sight under the table and tries to appear as if he was fully paying attention to their conversation. “Hm?”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry about that,” he apologizes, and is careful to stay tuned in as they discuss the possibility of a duet with Madonna. Which, Adam thinks, is something that even his group of miracle-workers couldn’t pull off. He keeps his opinion to himself, though, and instead ducks his head to send Matt another text.
were friends bc you cant resist my charm and hot body. ill come by at six. im bringing a season of sex and the city.
He gets oh my god, im already regretting inviting u back.
Adam smiles to himself. Tuning back into the present conversation, he immediately wants to kill himself because it seems he’s missed the opportunity to say no to working with Kanye. He’s in the midst of wondering how to get out of that one when his phone buzzes again. Matt.
ur actually coming, though, right?
Adam can’t help but smile at the adorable insecurity emanating from those five words, and he immediately types back of course. i’d never ditch you!
Adam’s phone vibrates a few seconds later.
just checking.
***
In just over an hour, Adam and Matt manage to devour a whole extra-large pizza, a basket of garlic fingers, several cans of soda, and three episodes of Sex and the City. In that same time frame, Adam has had to smack Matt and shush his whining at least ten times.
“I am never watching Carrie Bradshaw with you again,” Adam declares as episode three comes to an end.
“Thank god!”
Adam whacks Matt over the head with a pillow. “I should revoke your gay card. Not liking Sex and the City is a criminal offense.”
“Whatever, man, they talk about shoes too much.”
“This coming from the guy with five hundred dollar designer sunglasses.”
“Five hundred dollar men’s designer sunglasses,” Matt emphasizes. “Just ‘cause I like dick doesn’t mean I want to sit around and talk about women’s fashion.”
“Crude,” Adam laughs. Nevertheless, he grapples for the remote to start the next episode.
“You’re lucky Charlotte is hot,” Matt mutters from his place on the couch.
Adam scoffs. “Okay, your gay card is definitely being taken away.”
“What! You call Lady Gaga hot all the time.”
“Uh, because it’s Lady Gaga.”
“Shut up and let me aesthetically appreciate Charlotte’s female beauty,” Matt says, quoting back Adam’s own words from a recent magazine article. Adam makes a face at him but shuts his mouth.
They’re silent for the first ten minutes of the episode, until Matt asks, “So which of the guys in this show are you into? And if you say Mr. Big I’m going to puke.”
Adam laughs, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. “No, definitely not.” He pauses, staring at the screen thoughtfully. “I don’t know. Jazz Man is pretty hot.”
“Really?” Matt asks, quirking his head to study Carrie’s boyfriend-du-jour onscreen. “You think?”
“Yeah,” Adam shrugs. “He’s intense, you know? Focused. Especially on music. He’s got those hands…” he trails off, tilting his head to look at Matt. “But he’s fun too - like, he totally gets Carrie to loosen up. That’s a good combo.”
Matt nods in appreciation, turning back to watch Charlotte and Trey’s antics. Adam’s gaze, however, remains on Matt as he runs his words through his mind again. Focused… talented… fun…
“What?” Matt asks, looking back at him.
“Oh,” Adam says, shaking his head. “Nothing, sorry.” Matt tosses him an easy smile and glances back towards the TV, oblivious. Meanwhile, Adam is left reeling.
Holy shit.
***
The bachelor party happens in mid-March, several weeks before the wedding because it’s the only day that works for all the boys. Anoop entrusted the planning to David, Pablo and Brandon, buddies from the Clef Hangers, and they’d taken it upon themselves to book a VIP package at The Score, one of LA’s classier strip clubs. They were a small group - the three Clefs, Matt, Kris, Adam, Danny, and Anoop, man of honour. Scott had regretfully declined, opting instead to play a charity event and promising to bring an extra-special gift to the wedding. Michael had fully intended to come, had even gotten permission from his wife, but had to cancel last minute on account of two kids with nasty cases of chicken pox. So only eight boys are led past the long lineup outside, ducking around the velvet ropes to seat themselves in their private section of the club.
“So Katy really let you come to a place with half-naked ladies!” Matt exclaims as they get settled, clapping Kris on the shoulder. “You are one lucky man.”
Kris grins at the group, reaching for the bottle of vodka on the table. “I can look but not touch. And she’s going out dancing with her friends tonight. I figure the real party will start once we both get home.” Kris wiggles his eyebrows, and receives a few appreciative hollers for his efforts.
Shots are passed out and Adam raises his glass high. “To Anoop’s good fortune!”
“To his hot wife!” David adds, and Anoop rolls his eyes good-naturedly as he downs his vodka.
They’re soon greeted by two dancers, Esmeralda and Margarita, who sashay over to their table in stilettos and barely-there dresses. Esmeralda runs a hand through her black curls and scans the group. “I hear we have a groom-to-be in the room!”
Adam gamely shoves Anoop to his feet, grinning at his flushed cheeks. “Right over here, ladies.”
Esmeralda and Margarita are on him at once, pulling him from the booth and out onto the floor to dance. They press in on either side of him, and Anoop moves awkwardly to the techno beat, laughing as he tries to figure out what to do with his hands. The others hoot and holler after him as they pour more shots.
“Bottoms up, boys,” Adam grins, and resolutely pounds back the shot.
Two more shots later, the dancers are dragging them all up out of their seats and forcing them onto the dance floor. Adam can’t help but laugh when he catches glances of his friends - Pablo dancing up on Margarita, Kris awkwardly attempting to dance without touching anyone, Danny trying to avert his gaze from the dancers onstage but failing miserably. Adam moves his hips gamely, spending more time paying attention to the people around him than on his actual movements. But after a few minutes, Esmeralda sidles up to him, slipping in front of him and rotating her hips against his groin.
“Having fun?” she asks in a soft voice.
“Yeah,” he murmurs back, because he’s got a drink in his hand and music in his ears, and what’s not to like about this situation, really?
It’s not long after he thinks this that he looks up and sees Matt’s hands at Margarita’s waist and his hips swinging in time with hers, and he feels a flare of jealousy. Okay, there’s something he doesn’t like about this situation.
Adam extricates himself from Esmeralda’s hands as soon as is possible without looking like a jerk, and casually dances his way around the group until he’s beside Matt and Margarita. As the song changes to a faster beat, he steps forward, in front of Margarita, hand moving to her waist as he matches their movements.
“Having fun?” he asks in Matt’s ear, thankful for Margarita’s 5’3” frame.
“Sure!” Matt replies back, and maybe it’s the music or the alcohol or the jealousy, but Adam slides one of his hands down Margarita’s side so that it covers Matt’s. Matt’s eyes flicker to his own, and Adam can’t help but smirk just a little.
“Thought girls didn’t do it for you,” Adam says.
“They don’t. Alcohol and someone rubbing against me? That does.”
Adam leans forward just a touch, lips actually ghosting against Matt’s ear, hips still moving to the beat of the song. He’s turned on now, and the funny thing is, he’s pretty positive he’d want Matt this bad even if he was completely sober. “And what about me? Would I do it for you?”
Adam pulls back to see Matt’s reaction, and worries just for a second when he sees Matt’s wide eyes. But then Matt’s swallowing and licking his lips, and fuck, now Adam’s getting distracted. He raises his eyebrows, and Matt nods slowly in response.
“Come on,” Adam urges, stepping back from Margarita. He runs a finger down her arm and points her in the direction of Kris, a little sad that he won’t be sticking around to watch Kris attempt to deflect her. But then Matt’s looking at him expectantly and Adam’s pretty sure there’s a bulge in his pants that wasn’t there before they started dancing. So without another word, he turns and heads towards the men’s washroom, hoping that Matt actually follows him.
He does.
Adam slams him against the door of the bathroom the second it swings shut.
Adam’s kissed plenty of guys before, and the anticipation before each one is possibly his favourite part. He loves not knowing what it will be like - which person will be driving the kiss forward, if it’ll make his head buzz, if he’ll want to do it again the second they break apart. So he hovers, body pressed against Matt and an arm braced above his head against the door, his lips inches from Matt’s. He keeps his gaze on Matt, their eyes searching each other’s to make sure the other person is serious about this. Matt breaks first, finally groans and grabs Adam’s collar, pulling him down for the kiss, and Adam’s heart thuds. It’s even better that way.
Matt’s good, Adam notes happily - not too much teeth, just enough tongue. And then Matt nips his lip, and oh. Matt’s very good.
Adam’s lips move to his jaw, placing rough kisses against his stubbled cheek. He moves his mouth down over his neck and settles at his collarbone, taking a moment to pay it some attention. Matt’s sighing, head tilted back against the door. Adam presses their hips together, grinding against his erection, and smiles against skin when a garbled moan slips from Matt’s lips. His hands move to Matt’s fly, but Matt grabs his wrist.
“We can’t do anything out here,” Matt reminds him, a little out of breath. “In a stall, come on.”
Matt’s hands grip Adam’s hips and push him resolutely back into the first stall, letting go to lock the door behind him. The second they’re safely locked away, Adam’s fingers make quick work of his fly, getting Matt’s pants down past his knees in what he figures must be record time. He pauses to admire him, running one finger up his length slowly.
“Adam,” Matt chokes out, and his name on Matt’s lips pulls a smirk from him.
“I’ve got you,” Adam reassures him quietly, snaking down his body and settling himself on his knees.
He takes Matt in one hand, stroking him a few times, using the other to firmly plant his hip against the stall. Matt’s thigh is trembling, and Adam smiles, leaning forward to place a kiss against it. And then he moves sideways, sliding his tongue across the head just to hear Matt’s breath stutter. Satisfied, he takes him into his mouth.
Matt groans as Adam sucks him, head bobbing, trying to take in more of him every time he slides down. Adam knows he should warn him to be quiet, knows they’re in a straight club for fuck’s sake and that they could get in trouble if another guy walked in and heard them. The thought flies out of his mind, though, when Matt slides a hand through his hair, pushing his bangs out of the way so that Matt can see his eyes.
“Oh my god, Adam,” Matt hisses, and his voice basically goes straight to Adam’s cock. He pulls off Matt, feeling a little guilty when he hears Matt’s groan of displeasure, but he hurries to free himself from his jeans anyway. Wrapping one hand around himself, he brings his mouth back to Matt, sucking him in deep as his hand pumps himself furiously.
Neither of them last long - Matt’s head bumping the back of Adam’s throat is enough to push Matt over the edge. He shouts as he comes, and Adam keeps his mouth on him because the last thing they have time for is a major clean up. One, two more jerks are enough to finish Adam off, and Matt’s pulling him back to his feet the second he’s finished.
Matt kisses him deeply, and Adam’s sure Matt must be able to taste himself on Adam’s tongue. It doesn’t seem to deter him, so Adam kisses him back, happy and sated. They break apart to breathe and Adam leans down, pressing his forehead to Matt’s.
“Wasn’t expecting that tonight,” Matt says between breaths, and Adam laughs quietly.
“Sorry,” he apologizes. “I should’ve waited to do that until we were sober. And not in some dirty club bathroom.”
Matt shrugs. “At least you did it.”
Adam smiles, pulling away to clean himself off. They’ve been gone long enough and he’s surprised there hasn’t been a search party sent after them. He buckles his pants, and then leans forward, placing one more kiss against Matt’s mouth.
“Is this just going to happen the once?” Matt asks, and there’s a bit of a shake to his voice that Adam doesn’t like. He laces his fingers through Matt’s and shakes his head.
“I’d like to do this again,” Adam admits. “But maybe with dinner first.”
“Dinner,” Matt nods, a smile lighting up his features. “I could do dinner.”
“Good,” Adam agrees, and then he reaches around Matt and unlocks the stall door. “We’d better get back. When we left I pointed that dancer in the direction of Kris Allen and I’m dying to know how he got out of that one.”
***
They manage to slip back into the club unnoticed, much to Adam’s relief. Kris shoots him a look when he pours another drink, but Adam just smiles innocently back, because the last thing he wants to do is talk about everything that just happened while there is still a dancer hanging off Anoop.
Adam’s in the car on the way home (hired car service - the last thing he wants to risk is a DUI) trying not to fall asleep against the leather interior when his phone rings against his leg. Grappling for it, he’s surprised to see Matt’s name on the caller ID. But he lets it ring once - too eager -, twice, and then picks up just as the third ring begins. Just like Noah Merchant taught him in fifth grade.
“You’re supposed to be going home to sleep,” Adam mumbles into the phone.
“I’m outside my front door.”
“Then go in and go to bed, it’s late.”
“How’s Friday for dinner?”
Adam sits up a little bit. “You want to decide now?”
“Yeah,” Matt replies, and Adam can almost hear his shrug. “Unless you don’t want to anymore.”
“No, no, I want to,” Adam replies quickly. “Friday sounds good.”
“Not busy?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Cool,” Matt says. There’s a sleepy grin in his voice and that puts a smile on Adam’s face, too.
“Go to bed, Matt.”
“Get home safe, Adam.”
***
Adam’s cell wakes him up at eight on Friday morning. He groans, fumbling for it on his nightstand with his eyes still closed. He doesn’t bother counting the rings, because by the time he actually located it, he was way past the accepted number.
“Hello?” he mumbles, face still pressed against his pillow.
“Adam, I need you to get over to the studio.” He hears Michelle’s insistent voice, and tries to muffle his groan. He adores her and all - he honestly doesn’t think he could have dreamt up a better manager - but does she not realize what time it is? Does she not realize it’s his day off?
“Do you guys really need me today?” he asks.
“We’re bringing in Madonna at noon.”
Adam is suddenly very, very awake.
“You’re… Michelle, I think I just had a heart attack.”
She’s laughing in his ear, but he sees absolutely nothing funny about the situation. “We managed to pull some strings - some ridiculous, expensive strings - and she’s got a duet she wants to try with you. Just a demo recording, to see how things go. But she’s heading overseas tomorrow so we’ve got to do this today.”
Adam’s already hopping around his room and attempting to pull on socks, phone cradled against his shoulder. He freezes by his bedroom door, one hand clutching his leather jacket. Matt.
“Michelle, I’ve got… I have something really important at eight tonight.”
“That’s hours from now,” she assures him. “She can’t stay too long anyway - it’ll be a short session. You’ll be out in plenty of time. Don’t worry.”
He’s in his Mustang in ten seconds flat.
***
Madonna is, hands down, the most intense person he’s ever worked with.
The session doesn’t start off as well as he’d have liked, because he stumbles over his words and almost falls on his face when she tells him that her favourite song off his first album is “Fever”. He keeps blinking, hardly able to believe that he’s here with fucking Madonna, not as fan and celebrity but as co-artists. He wishes he could go back and tell that awkward fourteen-year-old to stop hiding his “Like a Virgin” album when his friends visited, that one day he’d be working with that woman because she respected his talent. He wondered if that would’ve helped. Maybe a little.
Adam mostly loves to watch her work. She’s methodical, she’s attentive, and it doesn’t matter that most of her hits were released when he was a kid because this woman knows exactly what she’s doing. He tries to commit it all to memory, tries to focus so intently on the session that even if the song never sees the light of day, he’ll have gotten everything he could out of this day.
They eventually pack up their things and she kisses him once on each cheek, sweeping out in an array of PR people, and Adam’s eyes rest on the studio clock just as the minute hand clicks over to eleven pm.
Fuck.
He digs his cell phone out of his bag, and sure enough - three missed calls and five texts, all labeled “Matt Giraud”. He swears under his breath as he dials Matt’s number. The phone only rings once before he hears Matt’s frantic voice.
“Adam! Adam, are you okay?!”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Adam replies, and his gut feels full of lead. “Matt, I’m so sorry.”
“Oh my god, I was so worried. You didn’t show at the restaurant, and you weren’t answering your phone, and no one had heard from you today - what happened to you?!”
“It was just… a recording session ran long.” Adam winces because he knows that answer is far less acceptable than, say, lying unconscious in a hospital bed or locked in an elevator without phone service.
There’s a long silence on the other end of the line, and Adam can hear his own heartbeat in his ears. Finally, Matt speaks, and the hurt in his voice is crystal clear. “You were in the studio? This whole time?”
“I fucked up, Matt, I’m -”
“You didn’t call,” Matt says, and he sounds a little confused. “If you had a session and couldn’t make it, that’s fine, I get that. But you didn’t even try to let me know. You just… I waited for you for an hour. I was worried.”
“I wasn’t thinking, Matt, I -”
“I can tell,” Matt says quietly.
They’re both quiet for a minute, and the silence hurts more than Matt’s actual voice. Adam’s head drops into his hand. This is so not how he wanted their evening to go.
“Look,” Matt speaks again, and Adam sends a quick prayer to someone - God, Allah, Ra, whatever the hell is up there - pleading that Matt would ask to reschedule. “Let’s just forget it.”
“Forget what?” Adam asks, because he’s not sure if Matt means the date or the screw-up, and he’s hoping so hard for the latter.
“This,” Matt replies, and Adam’s heart sinks. “You’re busy. Your career comes first. That’s just how it is. And I just don’t think… I can’t be an afterthought in a relationship. Not again.”
“Matt -”
“I’ll see you, Adam.”
Adam hits ‘redial’ the second Matt hangs up, because the last thing he wants to do is let Matt go away mad. The phone rings once, twice, three times, and he’s clutching it so hard his knuckles are white. Four, five, six… it clicks over to voicemail after the eighth ring, and Adam ends the call without speaking.
Anything past four rings means you’re being ignored.
***
“I fucked up.”
“Hello to you too, Adam.”
Adam strides past Kris and into his foyer, turning to look at him as Kris closes the door. Adam isn’t over at Kris’s place a lot, because of conflicting schedules and a bunch of other pretty lame excuses that they both used in the past year. But Kris is good with advice, and he knows Matt. He knows both of them. If there is anyone who’ll be able to help him with this, it’ll be Kris.
“I fucked up bad, Kris.”
“Yes, so I’ve gathered,” Kris smirks, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “All right, tell me what happened.”
So Adam launches into the whole story - starts back when Matt offers him piano lessons, explains about finding out Matt was gay and Sex and the City parties and blowjobs in cramped bathroom stalls. He blushes when he gets to his actual mistake, because he’s not exactly proud, but he doesn’t sugarcoat it or make it any less his fault. When he finishes, he lets out a breath and raises his eyebrows at Kris, waiting for him to speak. Kris re-crosses his arms.
“So, Matt’s gay.”
“Is that really the part you’re focusing on?” Adam runs a frustrated hand through his hair.
“Nah, I’m just surprised he finally admitted it.”
“You knew?”
“It’s not like he told me,” Kris says, scratching absent-mindedly at the back of his neck. “I just figured, you know? All the flirting with girls and the way he’d joke around with you, and stuff.”
“The way he’d joke around with me?”
“Yeah. You really didn’t know he liked dudes, huh?”
“No!” Adam blinks at him. “I just never thought about it! And what’s that about the way he’d joke around with me?”
“You should have your gaydar checked,” Kris muses.
“Kris. Focus.”
“Man, he was always joking around with you on tour, teasing you and making fun of you and stuff.”
“He made fun of everyone.”
“Not like that he didn’t. With you he might as well have been pulling your pigtails and pinching your arm,” Kris explains.
“You are so weird.”
“You want my help or not?”
“Go on.”
“I’m just saying, he’s been into you for longer than he’s been admitting that he’s into guys,” Kris says, “so I imagine that you standing him up kind of sucked. Not to mention, it sounds like his ex was pretty fond of doing the same thing.”
Adam sighs and sinks to the floor, back pressed against the wall and arms wrapped around his knees. “Fuck.”
“You going to call him again?” Kris asks.
Adam looks up at him and shakes his head. “You didn’t hear him. He doesn’t want to have anything to do with me.”
“Look,” Kris says, and he crosses the room so that he can slide down the wall next to Adam. “You’ve got the albums and the tours and the awards and all that stuff’s great, right? But I mean… what’s the point of all that good stuff if you’re doing it alone?”
Adam drops his head on his knees and exhales loudly. He hates it when Kris is right.
***
The morning of April fourth dawns clear and sunny in Los Angeles, and down at the Park Plaza, dozens of workers line up white chairs, arrange bouquets, and set up buffet tables for the Knudsen-Desai wedding. Meanwhile, out in West Hollywood, Adam Lambert’s hands shake as he ties his tie.
He hasn’t seen Matt in two weeks, and the end of their last phone conversation had hardly been encouraging. But he knows Matt will be at this wedding, wouldn’t miss out on this to hide from Adam no matter how much Matt might want to. Adam fiddles with his cuff links and examines himself in the mirror. The suit helps with the confident exterior, he figures. If he’s a mess on the inside, the least he can do is be put together on the outside.
The ceremony is scheduled to start at three, and Adam pulls his Mustang up to the hotel at a little after two. He passes off the keys to the valet and makes his way inside, unsure as to where he’s supposed to be. He rounds a corner in one of the long hallways and is surprised to see Megan’s head peeking out through a doorway.
“Oh, thank god, Adam! Can you help me?”
He moves towards her, concerned. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Megan replies, opening the door a little wider for him. “I just can’t reach the zipper on this thing and all of my bridesmaids stepped out for a minute -”
Adam reaches for her, running a hand over the tulle descending from her waist. He raises his eyes up to her face and offers her a broad grin. “You look so beautiful.”
Megan blushes a little but keeps her composure, turning around impatiently. “Come on, zip me into this thing.”
He does so, smoothing the fabric over her back once he’s done. “There. Perfect. Noop’s going to have a heart attack.”
She laughs. “One can only hope.”
He wishes her good luck and backs away, because he knows she still has lots of preparing to do and not a lot of time. Before she closes the door to her suite, she pauses and leans against the doorframe. “You okay, babe?”
“Hm?”
“You look a little worried.”
Adam shakes his head, doing his best to keep his smile intact. “I just have to find someone before the ceremony, that’s all. Good luck, gorgeous.”
He’s not expecting to run into that someone the second he rounds the next corner.
There’s no reason for Matt to look any different, not in two weeks, and Adam knows this. But there’s something about the suit on him - Matt looks more grown up, more serious. Like someone ready for the real world.
Adam wonders if anyone thinks that when they look at him.
When Matt spots him, he freezes up a little, turning his head as if to see if running in the opposite direction would make it all go away. Before he can move, though, Adam strides forward. “Matt.”
Matt doesn’t want to make eye contact, that much is obvious. “Adam. Hey.”
“How are you?” Adam could kick himself. If he wastes this whole chance on formalities, he’s going to have to get someone to shoot him and put him out of his misery.
“I’m all right,” Matt shrugs. “Keeping busy, you know. You?”
And it’s all so false that Adam rakes a hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, I don’t want to make chit chat.”
“And I don’t want to talk about anything else.” Matt turns and moves to walk away, but Adam’s hand clasps around his wrist before he can get too far. Matt swivels back towards him, a pained look on his face. More than anything, Adam wants to make that look go away.
“Matt, I’m sorry,” Adam insists, and he keeps his fingers around Matt’s wrist just in case he tries to run again. “I got caught up and I didn’t call and that sucks. I know you’ve had that happen to you before and I don’t want to do that again. I’m not that guy, Matt, I swear I’m not.”
Matt shuffles his feet. “Okay,” he says quietly, and that frustrates Adam because he knows Matt doesn’t believe him.
“I mean it,” he insists. “I like you a lot, Matt. And the last thing I want to do is hurt you again.
“And what about your career?” Matt asks, and Adam aches a little because he knows that’s a problem. “What about the next time a session goes long, or there’s an impromptu gig in another city? What’s going to happen to us then?”
“I don’t…” Adam runs a hand over his face. “I don’t have all the answers yet.”
“I can’t be an afterthought, Adam, I’m sorry. I did that once and I’m not doing it again.”
“Hey,” Adam says, and he steps in a little closer. “I don’t have all the answers yet, but I’m going to. I’m going to get us there. Because the last thing you should ever be is an afterthought.” And then Adam leans in and kisses him.
Matt is unresponsive at first, which Adam doesn’t mind - he’s not getting punched in the gut, and he considers that a small triumph. He’s persistent, hand sliding around to the back of Matt’s neck, pulling him in deeper, and finally he feels a give and Matt’s kissing him too, hand sliding up his arm and fingers gripping his dress shirt.
Adam pulls back but doesn’t let go, choosing to keep Matt close as they try to catch their breath. “Do you hate me?” Adam whispers.
Matt breathes out a laugh. “No,” he admits.
“Can we try this again?”
Matt presses his forehead against Adam’s and traces a line over his chest. “Yeah, we can try this again.”
Adam can’t stop himself from kissing him one more time. They’re both smiling too wide for a proper kiss and they eventually break apart, laughing. Adam winds his fingers through Matt’s and squeezes his hand.
“Let’s go watch our friends get married.”
end.