fic: This One's For You (Part One)
Title: This One's For You
Ship: Adam Lambert/Brad Bell, Adam Lambert/Kris Allen friendship
Word Count: 11,400
Rating: R, for sexual situations, strong language, and mature themes.
Warnings: Brief discussion of child abuse, may be triggering.
Summary: Adam's on top of the world. But when he finds out something's wrong with his ex-boyfriend Brad, he becomes determined to find out what it is, despite everyone's best efforts to keep him away.
Author’s Note: This story was inspired by the wonderful L.A. concert of July 16th and the epic trucker hat of the next day. Thanks to my wonderful beta, fakeplasticsnow, for all your magnificent help!
Disclaimer: This is NOT REAL LIFE. This is a work of fiction, written for entertainment purposes only, and the author is not making any money off of it.
Adam sees them as soon as he comes out for “Whole Lotta Love.” He’d known they were going to be there - he’d been the one to give them the tickets, for fuck’s sake. Yet in all the rush and press and excitement of being back in L.A., he’d somehow failed to think about them actually being there. Cassidy and Alisan and Brad, all lined up right in front of his eyes, on their feet, mouths open, yelling for him.
The rush of the screaming crowd washes over him. It's a thrill better than the strongest drug. He shakes off his momentary discomfort, throws himself back into his stage persona with a vengeance. He’s in Los Angeles, fuckers, the city he’s been trying to conquer his entire adult life, and now he has it at his feet, screaming for him. They’re gonna get a show tonight.
He’s living in the moment, singing like he’s always longed to sing, and oh, there’s Lindsay Lohan flipping her shit for him, no big deal. He’s imagined moments like these for so long, dreamed of performing for thousands of people, of being the rockstar he’d dressed up as when he was a child. But no one’s imagination, not even his, could possibly come close to picturing what this moment truly feels like, not close. He’s high on life, high on the music, high on the screams, and when he looks down and sees Brad sitting there, he points recklessly down at him and Cassidy and calls, “You better get up out of your seats, bitches! Dance!” Cassidy flips him the finger, and he fights back laughter. He may get in trouble tomorrow with the ‘family-friendly’ whiners, but right now nothing can touch him. He’s fucking fine, he’s fucking fabulous, and every dream he’s ever had seems concentrated into this moment, this place, this arena filled with light and screams and people and his own voice. He sings.
///
Coming down after a concert is always a bit of a bitch.
They all handle it differently. Matt and Danny shower immediately, to get their makeup off and freshen up, since they’re the “sweat like pigs” guys of the group. Kris crashes hard right after the show ends, and has to be constantly teased and cajoled along to keep him from falling asleep on his feet. (Adam sometimes glances around to make sure that there aren’t any photographers lurking around their dressing room, because some of the cast’s antics to keep Kris awake aren’t exactly G-rated.) Scott usually gets a quick analysis of how he did from his hot brother, Todd - hey, Adam’s seen him looking back, and the boy’s got a nice ass on him - while pulling off the overly-tight collar the AI style people shove him into. Michael bounces, literally bounces through the afterparty and bounces out to the barricades and bounces along the fan lines, beaming the whole time. (Kris moans that he could use a little of whatever Michael’s drinking, but Lil tells him it’s just the difference between two songs and five, and come along honey we’ll get you some coffee.) Adam usually just drinks a glass of water, does some quick calming exercises, and heads out into the storm.
Tonight, however, everyone’s slightly off their game because of Megan’s food poisoning. Apparently Allison’s mom took Megan to the hospital during Adam’s set, and it’s shaken everyone up a little. Michael’s already bounced off to the afterparty, after vowing never to eat anything a fan gives him ever again, just out of caution. Scott and Todd are sitting on the couch together, going over what Megan ate today in an attempt to discover the culprit. Anoop’s standing nearby shirtless. His show shirt hangs forgotten in one hand, and he's holding his iPhone to his ear with the other, trying to get an update on Megan’s condition from Allison’s mom. Matt, hair damp from the shower, is trying to rib him, but Anoop’s simply tuning him out.
Allison’s fluttering around, concerned about Megan but still buzzing from being in her hometown. She tugs on Adam’s sleeve as he takes a gulp of water, and he nearly swallows wrong. “Come on, Adam, let’s get to the party! Did you see? Lindsay and Sam were out there, and Sam is totally crushing on Matt!”
Matt looks over at them, distracted from his undoubtedly X-rated teasing of Anoop. “What?”
“She so is! You should have a threesome with them, that would be totally hot!”
Adam really does choke on his water this time. Matt flushes all the way up to his fedora. Kris starts laughing behind them, startled and loud, and Lil comes over to smack Allison on the head lovingly. “Your mama isn’t here, young lady, so I’m keeping an eye on you!”
“Well, he should!” Allison shoots back stubbornly. “They’d totally go for it!”
“Go for what?” Danny asks, rubbing his hair down with a towel as he enters the room.
“Don’t ask,” Matt says, strangled.
“I bet you gave them after-party passes!” Allison says triumphantly.
With Matt’s beet-red face telling the answer, Adam decides it’s time to get Allison out of there before Danny gets wise and has a heart attack. Although the wicked part of his brain says that Allison-him-Kris would be a much better way to end the show than Allison-Danny-him-Kris.
“Come on, babe,” he says affectionately, grabbing her wrist. “Let’s go meet our adoring friends and fans.”
“I’m not a babe, I’m a rockstar,” she says, but she follows.
///
They’ve stuck all of Adam’s guests in some side room, which kind of pisses him off. He figures it’s because there were so many of them - he ran out of after-party passes weeks ago - but still, that’s not cool. He isn’t able to break away from the main room for a while, stuck in the endless cycle of smile, pose, hug, sign, look interested, say "thank you," smile some more.
Finally, after what seems like a small eternity but is probably only ten minutes, Kris appears on the other side of the room. Adam shoots him a glance that screams “Help me!”, and he can see Kris laugh, tired eyes squinching shut for a moment, before Kris raises his arms and yells, “What up, L.A.!” With everyone’s attention zeroing in on Kris, Adam takes the opportunity to make his escape, mouthing a heartfelt “thank you” to Kris as he goes.
Then he’s opening the door to the other room, and there they all are - his old voice teacher and his old friends and everyone who used to mean the world to him, before he gained the world. He almost staggers under the nearly tangible weight of joy and goodwill being directed toward him, and then the first of them are upon him, hugging and pulling at him.
It’s overwhelming in a completely different way than performing on stage is, and Adam could get used to this.
He falls out of yet another hug, turns blindly toward the next person, his smile threatening to split his face. He’s tired, exhausted, but it’s glorious and he’s made it, he’s fucking made it…
And Brad’s there, small and drunk and, as always, eminently fuckable. His clothing clings to him, showing a ridiculous amount of skin, and Adam can no longer touch, can no longer gather Brad to him like he used to, like he suddenly longs to. On a night where he has everything he’s ever wanted, it’s this that settles into his belly, the one thing he can never have again.
Brad is tilting his head up, huge brown eyes staring into Adam’s own. Adam wonders what Brad expects him to do. They broke up months ago, and Adam’s pretty sure Brad knows that he broke Adam’s heart. He’s been trying to get over it, but he’s been so busy, so busy, and there’s just no time. Adam wants to stay friends with him, but he doesn’t know if that’s going to be possible when Brad comes to concerts looking like this and - oh fuck - making that pleased little sound Adam remembers so well.
Brad smiles at him, sharp and brittle, but when he speaks it’s surprisingly soft. “You were great, Adam,” he says, and Adam can’t look away. “I was speechless. It…it was beautiful.”
Then he laughs, uninhibited, drunk. “I have to say though - you’re going to get shit tomorrow for calling us bitches in front of everybody! And for shoving your dick down the audience’s throats, but then I expected that.”
Brad’s coarseness, loud and familiar and abrasive, unexpectedly lightens the weight in Adam’s chest. Alisan is at Brad’s elbow, bending over to say something into his ear, and then someone pulls on Adam from behind and he turns, and it’s over.
A few minutes later, smiling for yet another picture, it occurs to him that he never said a word to Brad. The guilty thought tugs at him, and he turns to try to find Brad, but he’s gone. Cassidy’s on his other side, bragging about how great his jacket looked up on stage and how Adam in no way deserves it - “Lambert, you owe me big time! And do you think you could possibly stop slinging it everywhere? I made the fucking thing to last, but if you keep dropping it places it’s gonna get stepped on by the drummer or something and then you’re gonna have to fly me out to fucking Arkansas or something to fix the fucking jacket and I’m gonna charge you out the nose, believe me!” - and he’s laughing dutifully, but with only half his attention. He needs to get back in the game. This is his night, and he’s not going to let his ex-boyfriend screw with his mind. That’s over and done with, played that game, paid that forfeit.
Cassidy breaks off in the middle of another cheerfully profane diatribe, and Adam turns toward him, out of his hairstylist’s embrace. “Sorry, what was that, Cass?”
But Cassidy’s no longer paying attention to him. He’s in low conversation with Alisan, who’s popped up again, and Adam is getting a little annoyed. Not that he’s an egomaniac or anything, but this night is supposed to be about him, and Alisan keeps showing up and distracting the people who are talking to him. He doesn’t think she’s even said a word to him since he walked into the room.
Cassidy turns back to him, clasps his upper arm briefly, says, “Great show, Adam, my jacket is fucking fierce. I gotta go, but you fucking rock. You know my number,” and then he’s jogging off, out of the room, and Alisan’s turning to follow.
Adam calls after her, “What the fuck, Alisan?”, and she turns back momentarily and makes an apologetic grimace, before vanishing as well. He gapes after her, starting to get pissed, but then another flash goes off in his blinded eyes, and he turns back to his crowd with a sigh.
It’s still bothering him, though, as he makes his way down the barricade line later, signing away as the flashbulbs pop. Sign after ridiculous sign, with a few decent ones thrown in, fat scary cougars screaming in ecstasy, cute little girls with braces and eyes round as saucers, the occasional hot guy winking at him, fifty million Rolling Stones. Alisan’s the best girl friend he has, and she wasn’t acting at all like herself tonight. Adam doesn’t like things he can’t explain - they worry at him, get under his skin.
And speak of the devil, there she is again, brushing past Dan, his security guard, who grabs at her until Adam raises his hand to shoo him back. The teen girls he’s currently signing for go crazy at the sight of a girl getting close to him, and he rolls his eyes, steps a few feet away from the barricade, and asks Alisan, “What the…what in the ever-loving fuck is going on?"
She’s trying to look cool, but Adam can see that she’s worried. His eyebrows shoot up.
“Have…” she bites her lip, and then it comes out in a rush, “Have you seen Brad? Recently, I mean?”
“Not since the after-party,” he says slowly, tuning out the shrill screams behind him.
She looks unhappy, but she bares her teeth at him in what she must think looks like a smile. “Oh, okay. I thought he might have come down here for some reason. I guess he’s just gone home. Never mind!” She turns to go, then whirls and hugs him fiercely, kissing him on the cheek. “You were great tonight, by the way.” A grin, a shoulder pat, and then she’s gone again.
Adam sighs and turns back to the screaming girls. “IS THAT YOUR GIRLFRIEND?” one yells at the top of her lungs, and he wants to beat his head in against the bars of the barricade, because this girl happens to be clutching a copy of Rolling Stone to her chest. Instead he grits his teeth and says sweetly, “Just a friend!” and keeps signing, touching people’s hands and signing people’s shirts and smiling for people’s cameras. He loves his job, and he loves his fans - yes, even the scary ones! - but even on the best of nights this part gives him a headache, and this is not the best of nights.
He actually gets most of the way down the line tonight before they tell him it’s time to leave. He runs back down the line, slapping hundreds of hands, wearily reminding himself to scour with antibacterial soap later, then heads toward the buses, ready for bed.
He’s near the buses when he sees Alisan again. She’s only a short distance from him, back toward him and about to start up a set of stairs back into the arena. And now he’s just too fucking curious and confused to let this go. Why is Alisan going back into the arena, of all places? He breaks into a jog, heading toward her.
When he’s halfway there, her phone rings, and she answers. He can’t hear what she says, but he can see the sudden slump of her shoulders, and then he’s near enough to hear her say, “Okay, thanks so much. I owe you one, Cassidy. Do you have your key, or do you need mine?”
She’s stopped, and he catches up to her, takes her shoulder, spins her around to him. “Alisan, what the hell is going on?”
She stares up at him, startled, then says into her phone, “Cass, I’ve got to go. You’re okay without me? … Thanks again. Goodnight.”
Adam crosses his arms, stares her down, and waits.
Alisan sighs. “Adam, everything’s fine. I’m sorry if you were worried. Brad’s just a little drunk, that’s all. Cassidy’s taking him home. You should get going, some of the other guys just got in the bus.”
“Alisan,” he says, projecting a note of warning. “What’s going on?”
“What do you mean?” she asks, but her heart’s not in it. “Nothing to see here, superstar, move on!”
He steps closer to her. “Whatever Brad used to be to me, he’s still my friend, and if there’s something wrong I want to know.”
Matt whistles at him from the bus. “Get your ass over here, Lambert, we’re getting old waiting. Some of us have better things to do than watch you putting the moves on some poor misguided chick.”
Adam rolls his eyes, makes up his mind. He links his arm with Alisan’s. “Come on, you’re coming back to the hotel with me.”
“Adam!”
Unfortunately for Alisan, whines stopped working on him around Disco Week, when he had finally hardened his heart to Kris’s plaintive early-morning entreaties for “ten minutes more” and simply started pulling the covers off him. He shakes his head back at her, clasps his other hand over the one of hers in the crook of his arm. “We need to have a talk.”
She sighs unhappily, but goes with him. In the doorway, Matt waggles his ears at her and says, in his annoying ‘dude’ voice, “Well, hello there!”
Adam rather thinks the Lindsay Lohan/Samantha Ronson thing went to Matt's head.
///
It’s another hour before Adam gets Alisan alone. Luckily they’re already checked into the hotel, but the group always likes to hang out in his room after shows, and it takes him a while to chase them all out. Since Kris goes straight to bed like he normally does, Adam’s without the usual person to receive his surreptitious “Help!” signals. So he’s stuck.
First, Danny wants to ask his opinion on a new dance move he wants to add to “Maria, Maria” - Adam says diplomatically that he thinks the crowd loves the dance moves Danny is already doing in the number. Then Allison wants him to meet a posse of her teenage girlfriends - they swarm him, giggling, and are way too touchy-feely with his ass. Megan returns from the hospital, still sick but feeling a bit better, and comes in wanting to know whether Adam really said “Bitches!” on the American Idol stage. When Michael shows up, bouncing, to suggest that they update Michael’s Twitter with a Bubbletweet talking about whether Adam’s got his own Twitter back from the hacker, Adam is about ready to strangle somebody. Luckily Lil catches his eye right about then and successfully gets everyone out.
He shuts the door and flips the lock, making a mental note to get Lil flowers tomorrow. Leaning his head against the solid frame of the door for a blessed moment, he lets his shoulders relax and slump forward, offstage at last.
Behind him, Alisan is sitting on his bed. She shifts, and the rustle brings him back to himself. He turns, goes over, and sits in the chair nearby. “Now, Alisan. Tell me what’s going on.”
She bites her lip, but evidently she’s been thinking about what to say, because it comes out pretty quickly. “We went out to dinner with Brad before the show, and he had a few too many drinks. That’s all. I know he really enjoyed your performance, and I’m sure he’ll be kicking himself tomorrow for getting shitfaced. Cassidy took him home, and he’ll sleep over to make sure Brad’s fine in the morning, but there’s really nothing to worry about. It's not like he OD'd or anything," she laughs. "Nothing scary, just good old vodka."
Adam’s known her for years. She’s lying. Or maybe not lying, but there’s something she’s not saying. He hears the hysterical edge tamped down underneath her laughter. He saw the relief in every line of her slumped shoulders earlier. He can feel the studied lightness in her tone. It’s all trying just a little too hard.
He says as much to her, adding, “Alisan, what is wrong with Brad?”
She’s clenching her hands together in the gesture he remembers so well, tension radiating off her bowed head. “Adam…”
“You're sure it isn't drugs?” he says quickly, brutally. Best to have the worst over with.
Her head snaps up. “Adam!”
“Hey, we’ve both taken drugs before, I’m not saying I’m a saint!”
“Yes, but you know Brad stopped that years ago. And even that was like once every other party! Not a…habit, or whatever.”
“What is it, then?” he asks. “If you don’t tell me, I’m just going to keep ticking things off my mental checklist of horrible possibilities.”
She breathes out, frustrated. Her ankles cross and uncross. “Adam, just because you’re famous now doesn’t mean you get anything you want --”
He cuts in, “Whoa, I never said --”
She plows on. “You may have been my friend first, but you brought Brad into my life and he and I been friends for three years now. I’m not going to let anybody hurt him!”
There’s the spitfire he knows. He says quietly, “I don’t mean to hurt him. I want to help him.”
“Well, maybe helping him means listening to me and leaving things alone!” She’s breathing hard. He remembers how much she hates confrontation, despite her acerbic sense of humor and occasional cheerful bitchiness.
Suddenly he has a staggering thought, and his eyes snap to hers. She looks back, wary, and then he hears himself as if from a distance, cold and steely, “Cassidy and Brad are together. That’s the secret. That’s what you didn’t want to tell me. Of course, that makes sense.” And he’s on his feet - when did that happen? “They can’t have me anymore so they get together and compare notes about how great they used to have it --”
And Alisan slaps him, hard.
“Shut the fuck up, Adam.” Her hands are on her hips in a challenging stance, up in his face. “For your information, Cassidy’s actually in a relationship now and Brad hasn’t had a boyfriend in months. Not that it would be any of your business if they were together, because you fucking left. I don’t know where you get off shit-talking two of my friends - our friends - but I really don't want to stay and hear it. I’ll give you a free pass for being over-excited and thinking you’re the greatest thing since Elvis, but there are boundaries and you just crossed one. You have five seconds to convince me not to walk out of here.”
His hand is still cradling his cheek. One part of him thinks hopelessly that he’ll need a truckload of foundation for this red mark tomorrow.
Sobered, he looks down. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” But then something Alisan said registers, and his head snaps back up. “Bullshit.”
Her eyes nearly pop out of her head. “What?”
This may be more information than Alisan bargained for, but she asked for it. “Brad and I had sex at least twice a day. There’s no way he’s gone without for months.”
She looks flabbergasted for a moment. Then her head drops into her hands, and her shoulders start to shake. “Oh, Adam, is that the only thing you can think of?”
“Well? I mean it! I wasn't complaining, but I’m telling you, Brad was horny 24/7. And it wasn’t just because it was me, I mean, I know I was good, but Brad said he’d always been that way --”
She’s shoving at his chest, still shaking hysterically. “Stop! Stop! Whether you believe me or not, it’s true! He hasn’t had a boyfriend since you left, I swear!”
“One-night stands, then.”
She sobers, pulling back. “No, not for months. Right after you left, maybe, but after that I’ve been…” She cuts off and bites down on her lip.
Adam puts a hand under her chin, and tilts it up. “Alisan, what aren’t you telling me?”
Her eyes slowly find his. He can see that she’s conflicted about something.
“After that you’ve been…?” He gives her his best empathetic, non-threatening, charming look. It’s worked on his mother for years. (It’s also one of the biggest reasons Neil resents him, but Adam still claims that’s just because Neil never perfected it himself.)
She closes her eyes, drops her head, and he knows he’s won.
“Adam, you’ve known Brad for even longer than I have. You know the, the shell he has up? The snarky, edgy, Cheeks shell he puts up to protect himself from the world, to protect his emotions and hide any vulnerability?”
Adam nods. Of course he does. Then he realizes she can’t see him. “Yes, he’s had it for as long as I’ve known him. But when you get to know him --”
“When you get to know him, you start seeing beyond it. You see how his emotions peek out, how he’s really just a big sweetheart, how he gets all soft with kids and sweet with old ladies, how he’s just an all-around wonderful guy with his friends. I don’t know,” she huffs a little laugh, “I don’t want to know what he’s like in bed, but probably the same way.”
Adam swallows a sudden lump in his throat.
She sighs and starts talking a little faster. “Recently, he’s started retreating behind that shell more and more. He’s still just as funny, just as sarcastic, just as wild, but it’s like he’s turning into Cheeks. It’s getting harder to see the real Brad. And it worries us.”
“Us?” he asks, numbly, trying to process this.
“I noticed about three months ago. Cassidy noticed about a month ago.”
“Have you talked to him?”
“We’ve tried. He just says he’s fine, makes fun of us for asking.”
They stand there in silence for some time. It’s probably only a couple of minutes, but it feels like hours. Finally, Adam says, “Alisan,” and extends his hand toward her.
She furrows her brow at him. “What? That’s all I’m telling you, I’m sorry.” She seems to pull herself together. “I’m sure…I’m sure it’s just a temporary depression. Cassidy and I are there for him, don’t worry, he’ll be just fine. He’s almost done with his new EP, and he has a whole lot of new fans thanks to being your ex-boyfriend.”
If she was expecting that to get a rise out of him and distract him, she’s going to be disappointed. He keeps his hand extended. “I know Brad had the apartment re-keyed after I moved out. You asked Cassidy if he needed your key. May I please have it?”
She shakes her head. “No, Adam.”
“I want to help him! I have to leave tomorrow. Let me have the key, I’ll go talk to him. He’ll talk to me, even if he won’t talk to anyone else. I know it, Alisan.”
“I said no, Adam! It’s better if you didn't. Besides, he’s drunk, he’s in no state to talk to anyone tonight.”
He stares her down. Then a thought almost takes his breath away. “You say you don’t know about what he did right after I left. Do you know if…if someone hurt him?”
She doesn’t answer, her face turned away.
He shakes her gently by the shoulders. “Alisan, look at me! Did someone hurt him?” He tells himself under his breath, “I will kill the fucker.”
Her eyes turn to his, finally, and his stomach takes a sickening dive when he sees that they’re starting to glisten. “Adam, I don’t know! Everything Cassidy and I know, we’ve just guessed! It’s all guesswork! It’s not my business, it’s not our business! Don’t ask me to tell you guesses!” She pauses, gives a sad little laugh. “I’ve said too much already, Brad’s going to kill me. I promised myself I wouldn’t tell you anything, and it turns out you’ve got me wrapped around your little finger just as much as you ever did.”
“Alisan,” and he’s finding it hard to breathe, but he meets her eyes with everything he’s got, “I’m begging you. Please, I’m begging you. Please trust me. Please give me the key.”
Her face contorts, and for a long second he thinks he’s lost. Then she touches her jeans pocket, simply.
He reaches inside carefully and pulls it out. He tugs her into a quick hug, pressing a kiss to her hair. She whispers into his chest, “Be careful.”
Then he’s snatching his jacket from the dresser, shoving his feet into flip-flops, and yanking open the door.
He nearly runs into Matt and Todd on his mad dash way down the hall. “You tap that, Adam?” Matt asks cheerfully. “Girl had a nice rack!” Adam rolls his eyes, shoves on by.
He hears Todd say to Matt, “Whoa, did someone take a swing at him?”
Matt calls after him, “Where the heck you going, man? You know your eyeliner’s all over your face?”
Adam honestly doesn’t care. He hails a taxi.
Proceed to Part Two.
You can find my fic masterlist here.
Ship: Adam Lambert/Brad Bell, Adam Lambert/Kris Allen friendship
Word Count: 11,400
Rating: R, for sexual situations, strong language, and mature themes.
Warnings: Brief discussion of child abuse, may be triggering.
Summary: Adam's on top of the world. But when he finds out something's wrong with his ex-boyfriend Brad, he becomes determined to find out what it is, despite everyone's best efforts to keep him away.
Author’s Note: This story was inspired by the wonderful L.A. concert of July 16th and the epic trucker hat of the next day. Thanks to my wonderful beta, fakeplasticsnow, for all your magnificent help!
Disclaimer: This is NOT REAL LIFE. This is a work of fiction, written for entertainment purposes only, and the author is not making any money off of it.
Adam sees them as soon as he comes out for “Whole Lotta Love.” He’d known they were going to be there - he’d been the one to give them the tickets, for fuck’s sake. Yet in all the rush and press and excitement of being back in L.A., he’d somehow failed to think about them actually being there. Cassidy and Alisan and Brad, all lined up right in front of his eyes, on their feet, mouths open, yelling for him.
The rush of the screaming crowd washes over him. It's a thrill better than the strongest drug. He shakes off his momentary discomfort, throws himself back into his stage persona with a vengeance. He’s in Los Angeles, fuckers, the city he’s been trying to conquer his entire adult life, and now he has it at his feet, screaming for him. They’re gonna get a show tonight.
He’s living in the moment, singing like he’s always longed to sing, and oh, there’s Lindsay Lohan flipping her shit for him, no big deal. He’s imagined moments like these for so long, dreamed of performing for thousands of people, of being the rockstar he’d dressed up as when he was a child. But no one’s imagination, not even his, could possibly come close to picturing what this moment truly feels like, not close. He’s high on life, high on the music, high on the screams, and when he looks down and sees Brad sitting there, he points recklessly down at him and Cassidy and calls, “You better get up out of your seats, bitches! Dance!” Cassidy flips him the finger, and he fights back laughter. He may get in trouble tomorrow with the ‘family-friendly’ whiners, but right now nothing can touch him. He’s fucking fine, he’s fucking fabulous, and every dream he’s ever had seems concentrated into this moment, this place, this arena filled with light and screams and people and his own voice. He sings.
///
Coming down after a concert is always a bit of a bitch.
They all handle it differently. Matt and Danny shower immediately, to get their makeup off and freshen up, since they’re the “sweat like pigs” guys of the group. Kris crashes hard right after the show ends, and has to be constantly teased and cajoled along to keep him from falling asleep on his feet. (Adam sometimes glances around to make sure that there aren’t any photographers lurking around their dressing room, because some of the cast’s antics to keep Kris awake aren’t exactly G-rated.) Scott usually gets a quick analysis of how he did from his hot brother, Todd - hey, Adam’s seen him looking back, and the boy’s got a nice ass on him - while pulling off the overly-tight collar the AI style people shove him into. Michael bounces, literally bounces through the afterparty and bounces out to the barricades and bounces along the fan lines, beaming the whole time. (Kris moans that he could use a little of whatever Michael’s drinking, but Lil tells him it’s just the difference between two songs and five, and come along honey we’ll get you some coffee.) Adam usually just drinks a glass of water, does some quick calming exercises, and heads out into the storm.
Tonight, however, everyone’s slightly off their game because of Megan’s food poisoning. Apparently Allison’s mom took Megan to the hospital during Adam’s set, and it’s shaken everyone up a little. Michael’s already bounced off to the afterparty, after vowing never to eat anything a fan gives him ever again, just out of caution. Scott and Todd are sitting on the couch together, going over what Megan ate today in an attempt to discover the culprit. Anoop’s standing nearby shirtless. His show shirt hangs forgotten in one hand, and he's holding his iPhone to his ear with the other, trying to get an update on Megan’s condition from Allison’s mom. Matt, hair damp from the shower, is trying to rib him, but Anoop’s simply tuning him out.
Allison’s fluttering around, concerned about Megan but still buzzing from being in her hometown. She tugs on Adam’s sleeve as he takes a gulp of water, and he nearly swallows wrong. “Come on, Adam, let’s get to the party! Did you see? Lindsay and Sam were out there, and Sam is totally crushing on Matt!”
Matt looks over at them, distracted from his undoubtedly X-rated teasing of Anoop. “What?”
“She so is! You should have a threesome with them, that would be totally hot!”
Adam really does choke on his water this time. Matt flushes all the way up to his fedora. Kris starts laughing behind them, startled and loud, and Lil comes over to smack Allison on the head lovingly. “Your mama isn’t here, young lady, so I’m keeping an eye on you!”
“Well, he should!” Allison shoots back stubbornly. “They’d totally go for it!”
“Go for what?” Danny asks, rubbing his hair down with a towel as he enters the room.
“Don’t ask,” Matt says, strangled.
“I bet you gave them after-party passes!” Allison says triumphantly.
With Matt’s beet-red face telling the answer, Adam decides it’s time to get Allison out of there before Danny gets wise and has a heart attack. Although the wicked part of his brain says that Allison-him-Kris would be a much better way to end the show than Allison-Danny-him-Kris.
“Come on, babe,” he says affectionately, grabbing her wrist. “Let’s go meet our adoring friends and fans.”
“I’m not a babe, I’m a rockstar,” she says, but she follows.
///
They’ve stuck all of Adam’s guests in some side room, which kind of pisses him off. He figures it’s because there were so many of them - he ran out of after-party passes weeks ago - but still, that’s not cool. He isn’t able to break away from the main room for a while, stuck in the endless cycle of smile, pose, hug, sign, look interested, say "thank you," smile some more.
Finally, after what seems like a small eternity but is probably only ten minutes, Kris appears on the other side of the room. Adam shoots him a glance that screams “Help me!”, and he can see Kris laugh, tired eyes squinching shut for a moment, before Kris raises his arms and yells, “What up, L.A.!” With everyone’s attention zeroing in on Kris, Adam takes the opportunity to make his escape, mouthing a heartfelt “thank you” to Kris as he goes.
Then he’s opening the door to the other room, and there they all are - his old voice teacher and his old friends and everyone who used to mean the world to him, before he gained the world. He almost staggers under the nearly tangible weight of joy and goodwill being directed toward him, and then the first of them are upon him, hugging and pulling at him.
It’s overwhelming in a completely different way than performing on stage is, and Adam could get used to this.
He falls out of yet another hug, turns blindly toward the next person, his smile threatening to split his face. He’s tired, exhausted, but it’s glorious and he’s made it, he’s fucking made it…
And Brad’s there, small and drunk and, as always, eminently fuckable. His clothing clings to him, showing a ridiculous amount of skin, and Adam can no longer touch, can no longer gather Brad to him like he used to, like he suddenly longs to. On a night where he has everything he’s ever wanted, it’s this that settles into his belly, the one thing he can never have again.
Brad is tilting his head up, huge brown eyes staring into Adam’s own. Adam wonders what Brad expects him to do. They broke up months ago, and Adam’s pretty sure Brad knows that he broke Adam’s heart. He’s been trying to get over it, but he’s been so busy, so busy, and there’s just no time. Adam wants to stay friends with him, but he doesn’t know if that’s going to be possible when Brad comes to concerts looking like this and - oh fuck - making that pleased little sound Adam remembers so well.
Brad smiles at him, sharp and brittle, but when he speaks it’s surprisingly soft. “You were great, Adam,” he says, and Adam can’t look away. “I was speechless. It…it was beautiful.”
Then he laughs, uninhibited, drunk. “I have to say though - you’re going to get shit tomorrow for calling us bitches in front of everybody! And for shoving your dick down the audience’s throats, but then I expected that.”
Brad’s coarseness, loud and familiar and abrasive, unexpectedly lightens the weight in Adam’s chest. Alisan is at Brad’s elbow, bending over to say something into his ear, and then someone pulls on Adam from behind and he turns, and it’s over.
A few minutes later, smiling for yet another picture, it occurs to him that he never said a word to Brad. The guilty thought tugs at him, and he turns to try to find Brad, but he’s gone. Cassidy’s on his other side, bragging about how great his jacket looked up on stage and how Adam in no way deserves it - “Lambert, you owe me big time! And do you think you could possibly stop slinging it everywhere? I made the fucking thing to last, but if you keep dropping it places it’s gonna get stepped on by the drummer or something and then you’re gonna have to fly me out to fucking Arkansas or something to fix the fucking jacket and I’m gonna charge you out the nose, believe me!” - and he’s laughing dutifully, but with only half his attention. He needs to get back in the game. This is his night, and he’s not going to let his ex-boyfriend screw with his mind. That’s over and done with, played that game, paid that forfeit.
Cassidy breaks off in the middle of another cheerfully profane diatribe, and Adam turns toward him, out of his hairstylist’s embrace. “Sorry, what was that, Cass?”
But Cassidy’s no longer paying attention to him. He’s in low conversation with Alisan, who’s popped up again, and Adam is getting a little annoyed. Not that he’s an egomaniac or anything, but this night is supposed to be about him, and Alisan keeps showing up and distracting the people who are talking to him. He doesn’t think she’s even said a word to him since he walked into the room.
Cassidy turns back to him, clasps his upper arm briefly, says, “Great show, Adam, my jacket is fucking fierce. I gotta go, but you fucking rock. You know my number,” and then he’s jogging off, out of the room, and Alisan’s turning to follow.
Adam calls after her, “What the fuck, Alisan?”, and she turns back momentarily and makes an apologetic grimace, before vanishing as well. He gapes after her, starting to get pissed, but then another flash goes off in his blinded eyes, and he turns back to his crowd with a sigh.
It’s still bothering him, though, as he makes his way down the barricade line later, signing away as the flashbulbs pop. Sign after ridiculous sign, with a few decent ones thrown in, fat scary cougars screaming in ecstasy, cute little girls with braces and eyes round as saucers, the occasional hot guy winking at him, fifty million Rolling Stones. Alisan’s the best girl friend he has, and she wasn’t acting at all like herself tonight. Adam doesn’t like things he can’t explain - they worry at him, get under his skin.
And speak of the devil, there she is again, brushing past Dan, his security guard, who grabs at her until Adam raises his hand to shoo him back. The teen girls he’s currently signing for go crazy at the sight of a girl getting close to him, and he rolls his eyes, steps a few feet away from the barricade, and asks Alisan, “What the…what in the ever-loving fuck is going on?"
She’s trying to look cool, but Adam can see that she’s worried. His eyebrows shoot up.
“Have…” she bites her lip, and then it comes out in a rush, “Have you seen Brad? Recently, I mean?”
“Not since the after-party,” he says slowly, tuning out the shrill screams behind him.
She looks unhappy, but she bares her teeth at him in what she must think looks like a smile. “Oh, okay. I thought he might have come down here for some reason. I guess he’s just gone home. Never mind!” She turns to go, then whirls and hugs him fiercely, kissing him on the cheek. “You were great tonight, by the way.” A grin, a shoulder pat, and then she’s gone again.
Adam sighs and turns back to the screaming girls. “IS THAT YOUR GIRLFRIEND?” one yells at the top of her lungs, and he wants to beat his head in against the bars of the barricade, because this girl happens to be clutching a copy of Rolling Stone to her chest. Instead he grits his teeth and says sweetly, “Just a friend!” and keeps signing, touching people’s hands and signing people’s shirts and smiling for people’s cameras. He loves his job, and he loves his fans - yes, even the scary ones! - but even on the best of nights this part gives him a headache, and this is not the best of nights.
He actually gets most of the way down the line tonight before they tell him it’s time to leave. He runs back down the line, slapping hundreds of hands, wearily reminding himself to scour with antibacterial soap later, then heads toward the buses, ready for bed.
He’s near the buses when he sees Alisan again. She’s only a short distance from him, back toward him and about to start up a set of stairs back into the arena. And now he’s just too fucking curious and confused to let this go. Why is Alisan going back into the arena, of all places? He breaks into a jog, heading toward her.
When he’s halfway there, her phone rings, and she answers. He can’t hear what she says, but he can see the sudden slump of her shoulders, and then he’s near enough to hear her say, “Okay, thanks so much. I owe you one, Cassidy. Do you have your key, or do you need mine?”
She’s stopped, and he catches up to her, takes her shoulder, spins her around to him. “Alisan, what the hell is going on?”
She stares up at him, startled, then says into her phone, “Cass, I’ve got to go. You’re okay without me? … Thanks again. Goodnight.”
Adam crosses his arms, stares her down, and waits.
Alisan sighs. “Adam, everything’s fine. I’m sorry if you were worried. Brad’s just a little drunk, that’s all. Cassidy’s taking him home. You should get going, some of the other guys just got in the bus.”
“Alisan,” he says, projecting a note of warning. “What’s going on?”
“What do you mean?” she asks, but her heart’s not in it. “Nothing to see here, superstar, move on!”
He steps closer to her. “Whatever Brad used to be to me, he’s still my friend, and if there’s something wrong I want to know.”
Matt whistles at him from the bus. “Get your ass over here, Lambert, we’re getting old waiting. Some of us have better things to do than watch you putting the moves on some poor misguided chick.”
Adam rolls his eyes, makes up his mind. He links his arm with Alisan’s. “Come on, you’re coming back to the hotel with me.”
“Adam!”
Unfortunately for Alisan, whines stopped working on him around Disco Week, when he had finally hardened his heart to Kris’s plaintive early-morning entreaties for “ten minutes more” and simply started pulling the covers off him. He shakes his head back at her, clasps his other hand over the one of hers in the crook of his arm. “We need to have a talk.”
She sighs unhappily, but goes with him. In the doorway, Matt waggles his ears at her and says, in his annoying ‘dude’ voice, “Well, hello there!”
Adam rather thinks the Lindsay Lohan/Samantha Ronson thing went to Matt's head.
///
It’s another hour before Adam gets Alisan alone. Luckily they’re already checked into the hotel, but the group always likes to hang out in his room after shows, and it takes him a while to chase them all out. Since Kris goes straight to bed like he normally does, Adam’s without the usual person to receive his surreptitious “Help!” signals. So he’s stuck.
First, Danny wants to ask his opinion on a new dance move he wants to add to “Maria, Maria” - Adam says diplomatically that he thinks the crowd loves the dance moves Danny is already doing in the number. Then Allison wants him to meet a posse of her teenage girlfriends - they swarm him, giggling, and are way too touchy-feely with his ass. Megan returns from the hospital, still sick but feeling a bit better, and comes in wanting to know whether Adam really said “Bitches!” on the American Idol stage. When Michael shows up, bouncing, to suggest that they update Michael’s Twitter with a Bubbletweet talking about whether Adam’s got his own Twitter back from the hacker, Adam is about ready to strangle somebody. Luckily Lil catches his eye right about then and successfully gets everyone out.
He shuts the door and flips the lock, making a mental note to get Lil flowers tomorrow. Leaning his head against the solid frame of the door for a blessed moment, he lets his shoulders relax and slump forward, offstage at last.
Behind him, Alisan is sitting on his bed. She shifts, and the rustle brings him back to himself. He turns, goes over, and sits in the chair nearby. “Now, Alisan. Tell me what’s going on.”
She bites her lip, but evidently she’s been thinking about what to say, because it comes out pretty quickly. “We went out to dinner with Brad before the show, and he had a few too many drinks. That’s all. I know he really enjoyed your performance, and I’m sure he’ll be kicking himself tomorrow for getting shitfaced. Cassidy took him home, and he’ll sleep over to make sure Brad’s fine in the morning, but there’s really nothing to worry about. It's not like he OD'd or anything," she laughs. "Nothing scary, just good old vodka."
Adam’s known her for years. She’s lying. Or maybe not lying, but there’s something she’s not saying. He hears the hysterical edge tamped down underneath her laughter. He saw the relief in every line of her slumped shoulders earlier. He can feel the studied lightness in her tone. It’s all trying just a little too hard.
He says as much to her, adding, “Alisan, what is wrong with Brad?”
She’s clenching her hands together in the gesture he remembers so well, tension radiating off her bowed head. “Adam…”
“You're sure it isn't drugs?” he says quickly, brutally. Best to have the worst over with.
Her head snaps up. “Adam!”
“Hey, we’ve both taken drugs before, I’m not saying I’m a saint!”
“Yes, but you know Brad stopped that years ago. And even that was like once every other party! Not a…habit, or whatever.”
“What is it, then?” he asks. “If you don’t tell me, I’m just going to keep ticking things off my mental checklist of horrible possibilities.”
She breathes out, frustrated. Her ankles cross and uncross. “Adam, just because you’re famous now doesn’t mean you get anything you want --”
He cuts in, “Whoa, I never said --”
She plows on. “You may have been my friend first, but you brought Brad into my life and he and I been friends for three years now. I’m not going to let anybody hurt him!”
There’s the spitfire he knows. He says quietly, “I don’t mean to hurt him. I want to help him.”
“Well, maybe helping him means listening to me and leaving things alone!” She’s breathing hard. He remembers how much she hates confrontation, despite her acerbic sense of humor and occasional cheerful bitchiness.
Suddenly he has a staggering thought, and his eyes snap to hers. She looks back, wary, and then he hears himself as if from a distance, cold and steely, “Cassidy and Brad are together. That’s the secret. That’s what you didn’t want to tell me. Of course, that makes sense.” And he’s on his feet - when did that happen? “They can’t have me anymore so they get together and compare notes about how great they used to have it --”
And Alisan slaps him, hard.
“Shut the fuck up, Adam.” Her hands are on her hips in a challenging stance, up in his face. “For your information, Cassidy’s actually in a relationship now and Brad hasn’t had a boyfriend in months. Not that it would be any of your business if they were together, because you fucking left. I don’t know where you get off shit-talking two of my friends - our friends - but I really don't want to stay and hear it. I’ll give you a free pass for being over-excited and thinking you’re the greatest thing since Elvis, but there are boundaries and you just crossed one. You have five seconds to convince me not to walk out of here.”
His hand is still cradling his cheek. One part of him thinks hopelessly that he’ll need a truckload of foundation for this red mark tomorrow.
Sobered, he looks down. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” But then something Alisan said registers, and his head snaps back up. “Bullshit.”
Her eyes nearly pop out of her head. “What?”
This may be more information than Alisan bargained for, but she asked for it. “Brad and I had sex at least twice a day. There’s no way he’s gone without for months.”
She looks flabbergasted for a moment. Then her head drops into her hands, and her shoulders start to shake. “Oh, Adam, is that the only thing you can think of?”
“Well? I mean it! I wasn't complaining, but I’m telling you, Brad was horny 24/7. And it wasn’t just because it was me, I mean, I know I was good, but Brad said he’d always been that way --”
She’s shoving at his chest, still shaking hysterically. “Stop! Stop! Whether you believe me or not, it’s true! He hasn’t had a boyfriend since you left, I swear!”
“One-night stands, then.”
She sobers, pulling back. “No, not for months. Right after you left, maybe, but after that I’ve been…” She cuts off and bites down on her lip.
Adam puts a hand under her chin, and tilts it up. “Alisan, what aren’t you telling me?”
Her eyes slowly find his. He can see that she’s conflicted about something.
“After that you’ve been…?” He gives her his best empathetic, non-threatening, charming look. It’s worked on his mother for years. (It’s also one of the biggest reasons Neil resents him, but Adam still claims that’s just because Neil never perfected it himself.)
She closes her eyes, drops her head, and he knows he’s won.
“Adam, you’ve known Brad for even longer than I have. You know the, the shell he has up? The snarky, edgy, Cheeks shell he puts up to protect himself from the world, to protect his emotions and hide any vulnerability?”
Adam nods. Of course he does. Then he realizes she can’t see him. “Yes, he’s had it for as long as I’ve known him. But when you get to know him --”
“When you get to know him, you start seeing beyond it. You see how his emotions peek out, how he’s really just a big sweetheart, how he gets all soft with kids and sweet with old ladies, how he’s just an all-around wonderful guy with his friends. I don’t know,” she huffs a little laugh, “I don’t want to know what he’s like in bed, but probably the same way.”
Adam swallows a sudden lump in his throat.
She sighs and starts talking a little faster. “Recently, he’s started retreating behind that shell more and more. He’s still just as funny, just as sarcastic, just as wild, but it’s like he’s turning into Cheeks. It’s getting harder to see the real Brad. And it worries us.”
“Us?” he asks, numbly, trying to process this.
“I noticed about three months ago. Cassidy noticed about a month ago.”
“Have you talked to him?”
“We’ve tried. He just says he’s fine, makes fun of us for asking.”
They stand there in silence for some time. It’s probably only a couple of minutes, but it feels like hours. Finally, Adam says, “Alisan,” and extends his hand toward her.
She furrows her brow at him. “What? That’s all I’m telling you, I’m sorry.” She seems to pull herself together. “I’m sure…I’m sure it’s just a temporary depression. Cassidy and I are there for him, don’t worry, he’ll be just fine. He’s almost done with his new EP, and he has a whole lot of new fans thanks to being your ex-boyfriend.”
If she was expecting that to get a rise out of him and distract him, she’s going to be disappointed. He keeps his hand extended. “I know Brad had the apartment re-keyed after I moved out. You asked Cassidy if he needed your key. May I please have it?”
She shakes her head. “No, Adam.”
“I want to help him! I have to leave tomorrow. Let me have the key, I’ll go talk to him. He’ll talk to me, even if he won’t talk to anyone else. I know it, Alisan.”
“I said no, Adam! It’s better if you didn't. Besides, he’s drunk, he’s in no state to talk to anyone tonight.”
He stares her down. Then a thought almost takes his breath away. “You say you don’t know about what he did right after I left. Do you know if…if someone hurt him?”
She doesn’t answer, her face turned away.
He shakes her gently by the shoulders. “Alisan, look at me! Did someone hurt him?” He tells himself under his breath, “I will kill the fucker.”
Her eyes turn to his, finally, and his stomach takes a sickening dive when he sees that they’re starting to glisten. “Adam, I don’t know! Everything Cassidy and I know, we’ve just guessed! It’s all guesswork! It’s not my business, it’s not our business! Don’t ask me to tell you guesses!” She pauses, gives a sad little laugh. “I’ve said too much already, Brad’s going to kill me. I promised myself I wouldn’t tell you anything, and it turns out you’ve got me wrapped around your little finger just as much as you ever did.”
“Alisan,” and he’s finding it hard to breathe, but he meets her eyes with everything he’s got, “I’m begging you. Please, I’m begging you. Please trust me. Please give me the key.”
Her face contorts, and for a long second he thinks he’s lost. Then she touches her jeans pocket, simply.
He reaches inside carefully and pulls it out. He tugs her into a quick hug, pressing a kiss to her hair. She whispers into his chest, “Be careful.”
Then he’s snatching his jacket from the dresser, shoving his feet into flip-flops, and yanking open the door.
He nearly runs into Matt and Todd on his mad dash way down the hall. “You tap that, Adam?” Matt asks cheerfully. “Girl had a nice rack!” Adam rolls his eyes, shoves on by.
He hears Todd say to Matt, “Whoa, did someone take a swing at him?”
Matt calls after him, “Where the heck you going, man? You know your eyeliner’s all over your face?”
Adam honestly doesn’t care. He hails a taxi.
Proceed to Part Two.
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