Oh, what? It's been two whole days since you got your Crystalyze fix? Allow me to remedy that.
Title: In My Perfect World
Pairing: Crystal/Lee
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3,841
Disclaimer: I clearly do not own anyone/anything. Oh that I were that entitled.
AN: Hi again guys! *waves* So, I’ve been working on this fic for like seconds, hours and so many days. I HOPE YOU LIKE IT. I want to continue it but IDKIDK I need more ideas. YOUR IDEAS. GIVE ME THEM. Also, 829475643 and ½ points to you if you recognize where the title’s from. ;)
It’s the morning after, very, very early. His eyes reluctantly crack open to the sound of the alarm on his phone going off, and he feels roughly like he’s been run over by a truck before remembering two things simultaneously, so tangled up in each other that he’s not sure which thought forms first: one, that he’s the winner of American Idol, and two, Crystal.
He thinks about her as he fumbles around in the dark for the lightswitch, pulls on some jeans and a sweatshirt. He remembers her head on his shoulder during the finale, her hand entwined with his, then running through his hair, his heart beating so fast he was sure it was going to explode, sure his whole body would detonate with all the sparks that were trailing from her fingers. A smile flicks across his face as he grips the doorknob and exits the room, mentally preparing himself for the onslaught of press he knows today will contain.
When he arrives, he’s still trying to clear his eyes of their blurry haze. He gets out of the car and immediately hears his name from about seven directions at once. He scans the area, waiting - for a signal, a word of guidance, something - and then he sees her. She looks tired too, but still beautiful, as Crystal somehow always manages to do. She’s smiling at him, beckoning him over, handing him a cup of coffee, gesturing toward a paper plate arrayed with breakfast pastries. The coffee hits his tongue and he swallows, tasting just the right blend of flavors. “Okay?” she asks, eyebrows slightly raised in anticipation of his response, and he forces out the first word he’s spoken all morning: “Perfect.” He stops his brain just in time before it sends his mouth the words that would easily finish that sentence: just like you.
They begin interviews, rotating around the seemingly endless circle of reporters from what must be every news station in America, answering the same questions over and over like it’s all some game to test if they’re the real Lee and Crystal. Sometimes they’re together, leaning sleepily into each other, her head resting on his chest for a brief moment before she seems to remember they’re on national television and he’s supposed to be “Uncle Lee,” a detail she brings up at every opportunity. In one interview, trying to be jovial, he cranks his arm and offers a sleepy grin at the mention of his affectionate nickname, but the little twinge he feels in his gut is a corporeal reminder that what he really wants is to be her everything.
~
Crystal was sitting in the room she’d be sharing with Tony if he hadn’t left two days ago, trying to work out her feelings. The past few days had been exhausting, both physically and mentally. She’d always acted so mellow and collected in front of the cameras because up to this point that’s how she’d been feeling, aside from the one time that got blown way out of proportion when she’d simply needed a little guidance. Now she was beginning to feel that way again, only she was pretty sure the one person she needed guidance from had just been proclaimed the new American Idol and would never have a free moment, and was also quite possibly the reason for her breakup with Tony, although she’d never blame him for it. She’d loved Tony, she had, and a part of her heart hurt with him gone, especially because he hadn’t at least stayed for the finale. But when it all came down to it, didn’t you need someone who’d been through the same things you had, someone who wouldn’t mind and could keep up when you suddenly decided to pack your bags and move across the country on a whim?
For Crystal, Lee DeWyze was that person, but she wasn’t sure how to tell him that without further upsetting the currently delicate balance of people in her life. While she’d had Tony, oddly enough, she’d felt more secure about her relationship with Lee just because she’d had a boyfriend to prevent their connection from becoming too deep. Now, without the safeguard of being “taken,” she was almost afraid of where her unbridled emotions would lead her, and she definitely didn’t want to scare Lee away. She was also surprised at herself for feeling so needy - after all, wasn’t she still the same girl who’d left home to live on her own at seventeen? Couldn’t she just do without a boyfriend, at least for the time being? But her yearning heart stubbornly refused to accept solitude.
And then there was the problem of the media. She’d worked so hard to emphasize that in her statement about Lee being her musical crush, the operative word was musical, but in return she’d felt only the pressing glares of the video cameras all around her, daring her to deny her love for Lee one more time. And later that evening, Tony had avoided looking into her eyes when he spoke, insisting he was tired, going to bed at the suspicious and heartbreaking time of 9 pm when past nights had found him awake and holding her until a much later hour. Even today she’d made the excuse that he was “Uncle Lee, not Papa Lee,” and she had laughed a little too loud along with the reporter, trying to hide the fact that the words felt like knives against her throat as she said them.
Even though she did want someone who could keep up with her, for some reason she found it completely adorable how oblivious Lee was to the way she sometimes caught herself gazing at him as he spoke, or hugging him for a little too long, or gushing over him a little too much. The fact that it certainly didn’t seem like he would be the one to hold her back was part of the reason for her nervousness, because if he wouldn’t, who would? It wasn’t like she felt wild, but as she’d admitted after the final performance night, she still wasn’t sure how she’d react to some things, and Lee’s influence over her was certainly an unusual force.
~
It’s finally Friday of what feels like the longest, most hectic week of his life, and the whole Top 10 has been invited to the If I Can Dream house for the evening. He isn’t sure why - he assumes it’s probably just another one of those publicity things, a stunt to appease Simon Fuller - and what the hell, it’ll be pretty low-key, just dinner and hanging out. In all the confusion of getting there, he doesn’t notice that she’s missing, suddenly isn’t sure when he last saw her. “Where’s Crystal?” he asks Didi and Siobhan, the closest people to him, who are currently discussing the fact that their names combine to make the glamorous hybrid “Magnami.” He manages to extract from them that Crystal mentioned not feeling well and went back to her apartment.
He’s preoccupied all night, alternately wondering if she’s okay and mentally slapping himself for being so anxious. She’s fine, idiot, he thinks to himself as everyone gathers around the table to eat. She’s been sick before and she came back better than ever. Stop worrying. But within minutes, a second voice is replying, But what if this time’s different? Then video cameras are being shoved in his face and he’s being asked for what feels like the thousandth interview in the past forty-eight hours, and all thoughts of her are put aside for the time being.
After awhile the Idols gather on the living room couch to answer Twitter questions that are streaming in on the giant flat-screen TV. He focuses on answering the questions, because he’s so used to this by now that he could probably talk about his Idol journey in his sleep. He’s so good at pretending that he even jokingly accepts an offer of marriage from a particularly forward Twitter user, just because it’s such a far-fetched idea. But then suddenly Katie’s reading a question about relationships among the contestants and his mouth dries up, his eyes avoid the screen, he picks a spot on the floor to stare at and tries to make it seem like he’s just letting the others have a chance at answering this question. It’s too much of a real life question, and to him, this one is anything but far-fetched.
The night wears on and he finds his way to the room with the keyboard, because if all the guitars in the house are already being used and he can’t leave this early without seeming rude, he’s got to have some kind of musical outlet to occupy his mind. His fingers automatically start playing the opening notes of “Use Somebody” by Kings of Leon, his favorite song by his favorite band. Andrew joins him, and soon Alex Lambert does too, but he doesn’t really care who’s there or singing along because somehow this song is his release, his way to tell the world about how he feels right now without actually saying it. This kind of indirect message is one of the reasons he loves music.
Finally, finally it seems like things are winding down and he might not be missed too much if he heads out now. He says some quick goodbyes and mock-complains that he has to be up early tomorrow for press, and luckily no one questions his premature departure. It’s still early enough that he can make a slight detour on his way home, and in a flash of daring he decides to do just that. Soon he’s standing outside the door of her apartment, now feeling a little sheepish and wondering if he’s overstepped his boundaries, but he’s come too far to let this go. He raises his fist and knocks.
She answers the door after a moment, opening it slowly, and her face softens behind her glasses when she sees it’s him. He understands why she’s being so gentle in her movements as soon as the door opens wide enough to reveal a sleeping Little Tony nuzzled against her shoulder. “Hey,” she breathes. “Hold on.” She beckons him in with her free hand and goes to settle Tony in his crib. Through the bedroom doorway he can see her planting a soft kiss on her son’s small forehead before she tucks him in. When she returns to Lee, he’s standing there a little awkwardly, but she smiles and says, “What’s up?”
“I thought you were sick,” he says, in a low voice, so that Tony won’t wake up. He means to sound concerned, but he says it almost accusingly, and she looks a little hurt before she explains. “Yeah, but I’m okay - it’s just a cold. Tony got it too. In fact, I think I got it from taking care of him.” She folds her arms over her chest. “What’s wrong, Lee?” she asks, seriously.
He deflates, all at once. “Nothing,” he sighs. “I’m just an idiot.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, shuffles his feet. Now her eyes are wider, concerned. “Are you sure there’s nothing?” she prods, taking a step closer. “You came over.” She says it as a statement, but he knows she needs an answer. He opens his mouth, breathes out another sigh. “I was just worried about you,” he says, sincerely.
“Okay,” she replies, softly, and then before he can think his arms are around her, pulling her toward him, and she’s relaxing against him and hugging him back and he feels a weight lifting off him, just like he keeps describing the experience of winning, except this time he’s not a babbling idiot and Crystal already understands, she understands, the warmth of her so near to him lets him know that she understands.
~
It’s finally the first day of tour, after weeks of rehearsal and promotion and endless work. She’s sitting in the spacious backstage room before her set, curled up on the couch, hugging a pillow to her chest. Almost everyone in the Top 10 has been in and out of this room at some point within the past hour or so, whether to take a few gulps of water or tell each other to “break a leg!” or make last-minute touch-ups in the mirror. In fact, the only person she hasn’t seen lately is Lee, but sometimes she supposes that’s the difference between being the American Idol and being the runner-up: their schedules are always just out of sync. She hums softly to herself as she waits for her cue to get ready, which will be Big Mike’s reappearance after he finishes his duet with Casey.
Just then the door bursts open and she looks up in surprise to see what’s going on. It’s Katie and Tim, presumably both finished with their sets, the former in hot pursuit of the latter because he’s holding her phone. “I need to check something on Twitter,” Katie whines, pouting, as Tim scolds, “I can’t believe you had this onstage with you!” Since they’ve stopped running, Katie has had time to pry off her heels; now, with nothing to impede her agility, she snatches her phone, cries a victorious “hah!” and takes her leave. Tim looks at Crystal and shrugs animatedly before following Katie. Crystal shakes her head and laughs to herself at their shenanigans, and when she looks back up Lee is standing in the doorway. He always was one for subtle entrances, she thinks.
“Hey,” he says casually, leaning against the doorjamb and rubbing the back of his neck. She can tell he’s having trouble hiding that lopsided grin of his as he looks at her, and that fact alone fills her with more butterflies than she’s ever felt due to stage fright. “Hey,” she says back, and he crosses the room and sits down at the other end of the couch. “Nervous?”
“Nah.” He waves his hand dismissively, then jumps a foot as his phone buzzes in his pocket. She giggles and chucks her pillow at him. “Liar.” The pillow soars past his left ear and onto the floor behind the couch. His grin is back as he checks the screen, shakes his head, shoves the phone back in his pocket. She gets up and walks past him to retrieve the pillow, and when she sits down again she’s knowingly closer to him. “Don’t worry, people seem to like you,” she jokes, rearranging her mouth in a smirk. “Though I can’t imagine why.”
“Whoa.” He wrenches the pillow from her grasp, seemingly with the intent of using it to playfully wipe the smile off her face. He’s leaning over her, and she can feel his breath, but he stops halfway through the motion of throwing the thing and instead tucks it nonviolently behind her elbow. She cocks her head, raises an eyebrow. “You’re bad at this.”
“I didn’t want to ruin your makeup before the show.” He shrugs, looking at her solemnly, but his sincerity dissolves into chuckles as she continues to look at him with a straight face. “Sorry. You look way too serious.” She leans toward him again, and she hasn’t exactly figured out what her next move will be, but suddenly that doesn’t matter anymore because he’s looking at her in a way she’s never seen him look at anyone else. His eyes are so wide and clear but so focused and his head is tilted to one side and his lips are slightly parted, and a tiny piece of her heart melts when Big Mike’s booming voice echoes up the hallway and the moment is broken.
~
He’s sitting on the tour bus, strumming his guitar absently, running over little alterations he could make to his songs so that he has to think while he’s playing them to remember the new parts. If he keeps them the same his mind runs on autopilot, and autopilot means thinking of her, and the last time that happened onstage he damn near fell off it.
All the other Idols are off having dinner in the restaurant of the hotel they’re staying at tonight, probably with plans to crash Siobhan’s room for a movie night afterwards. When they ask him to come, he says he might join them later, that he has a headache, some other lame excuse. Even though he’s been cooped up inside the bus all day, now that it’s empty he sees it as a safe haven. While it might be a borderline masochistic approach to his one-track mind problem, he’d somehow rather be alone with his thoughts than near her and unable to voice them.
He’s trying to puzzle out how to do his stripped down version of “Beautiful Day” while still giving it that big finish feel when all of a sudden he hears a noise, the sharp rapping sound of something small and hard striking glass. He jumps a little in surprise, puts down his guitar, and ambles over to peer around the wall that separates the driver’s cab from the rest of the bus. He’s not expecting anyone, and all the other guys and crew members should be able to get in without his help. He leans forward a little further and breathes a short sigh of relief when he sees her blond dreads, realizes she’s tapping her ring against the glass to make a louder sound than knocking would. His heart does a blackflip in his chest as he descends the short flight of stairs and pries open the door for her.
“Lee,” she says softly, looking somehow cold even though it’s summer in Maryland. Her bangs fall over her face and she reaches up to push them back. She moves toward him, steps up onto the last step.
“You’re not allowed on this bus,” he teases nervously, because he’s not sure what else to do, and suddenly she’s tugging him forward off the stairs and pressing her mouth against his. He brings his hands instinctively to her hips, and her hands slide up his back and clasp behind his neck as she pulls back and looks up at him. He meets her gaze, those impossibly clear blue eyes staring shamelessly back at him, waiting for his response. “Which is why we’re not going on the bus,” he breathes.
She smiles that soft Crystal smile that crinkles her eyes, her face inches from his, and hooks her legs around his waist as he lifts her into his arms and spins her. She’s giggling madly as he lets her down again and guides her up against the side of the bus before taking her lips with his. Slowly they pull apart and again she looks up at him, and she seems so small and unusually vulnerable as she whispers, simply, “Hi.”
“Hi,” he replies, easily, as if his insides haven’t just been whipped into a giddy turmoil. The smile hasn’t left her face, and he can feel his own mouth mirroring hers. Suddenly they’re both chuckling nervously, and he pulls her close again, wrapping her in under his chin. She leans into him, her body soft and warm against his, and when he loosens his hold so he can look at her again, he notices that her eyes are wet.
“I’m sorry,” she blurts out, quickly, before he can convert his concerned face into the corresponding words. “I just… Lee, I really needed you to want this. To want us.” She inhales shakily and looks down, and a single tear disentangles itself from her eyelashes and falls.
He cups her face in his hands and lifts it back up, gently brushing the tears from her eyes. “I do want us,” he says, and his breath catches as tears form in his own eyes. “Crystal, I want us more than anything.”
This time their kiss is slow, long, and her hands tangle lingeringly in his hair. She rests her head on his shoulder for a long time there in the dark, his arms around her waist, swaying them to an unknown rhythm. They hold hands on the way back to the hotel, walking past the fancy dining room in favor of Lee’s own room, arraying themselves together on the bed, suddenly too sleepily content to worry about anything else.
“Lee,” she murmurs, almost asleep, eyes closed against the hum of quiet darkness that surrounds them. “I love you.” He strokes her back, kisses her temple, watches her mouth curve into a soft smile as he whispers in her ear.
“I love you, Crystal.”
~
He wakes up with her body still curled softly into his, the fingers of her right hand interlaced with those of his left. She’s like an angel, her hair spread out around her on the pillow in a dreadlocked fan. He lies there on his back next to her, letting the soft sound of her breathing wash over him. All too soon she’s yawning and her eyes are flickering open, reminding him of the final thing about her that he can’t get enough of.
“Good morning, sunshine,” she says, beaming adorably and lifting herself up over him, so that her face is just above his. He can feel himself grinning his lopsided grin. She dips her head down and kisses him once, twice, and then she’s moving away but he pulls her back and she laughs, collapsing onto his chest. He holds her like that for a long moment, thinking, and then he speaks. “Crystal.”
“Mmmm?” She’s fingering one of the buttons on his shirt. He props himself up on his elbows, and she sits back on her haunches, her blue eyes expectant. He’s struggling with the phrasing of the question he wants to ask. “What does this mean… for our careers?”
She chuckles a little and shakes her head, looking down at the bedspread. “Oh, Lee.” Her eyes are back on him. “I thought about this too. I don’t know. I’ve never let the pressure from people who thought they knew what was right for me affect my decisions before. If we want this, why should it matter? We just have to wait for…”
“…six months,” they finish together, both recalling the clause in the Idol contract that prohibits engaging in relationships with other contestants or judges or basically anyone related to the show at all for half a year after the season finale. “Well,” she says, “that’s easy enough. We just can’t tell anyone until November.”
“Easy for you to say.” He reaches out and runs his fingers through her bangs before pulling her in for another kiss. She complies, then squirms out of his grasp, giggling. “Hey, I’m the one who came to you, DeWyze. Besides, don’t lie, you know you’ll have fun being my secret boyfriend until then.” She turns her head and expertly bats her eyelashes, giving him a coy smile. “Now, come on,” she cries, springing off the bed before he can pull her in again. “Let’s see what the day holds!”