Free Falling
Title: Free Falling
Author/Creator: KD Sarge ( downtime_mayhem )
Type: Fic
Rating: Probably R for swearing and slight sex content
Character(s): Adam Lambert, Tommy Joe Ratliff
Warnings: Tommy Joe swears, y'all. And Adam's hot. That's about it.
Summary: Tommy would say he's feeling down, but really he's not feeling much of anything at all lately.
Author's/Creator's Notes: I love me some smut as much as the next girl, but when a friend lamented that there needed to be more gen fic around, I figured she was right. And then this bunny pounced.
Disclaimer: If I owned Adam Lambert, I would NOT be on the internet, y'know? Don't own Tommy either, or know them personally even. Alas.
Cross-posted in glam_gen and teamratbert and possibly other places my friend said I should.
Inside in the warmth, someone laughed. Tommy stepped away from the French doors, one step, two, until the wind swept away the joy-filled sound.
The balcony was deeper than in most hotels he'd seen; the railing still a few steps away despite his distance from the doors. Wind swirled a nasty combo of snow and spit at him as he stood there, high above the world in some city he couldn't even remember, looking out at a universe as drab and worthless as he was.
Distantly he knew it wasn't right to feel as he did. Adam and the others valued him, didn't see him as a drag, didn't wish he would go away. They didn't see his stain on what they were creating, the mighty damned GlamNation Tour.
Tommy Joe effing Ratliff was the bassist for the next huge superstar. He was touring the fucking world. People who'd never heard of fucking Jesus knew who he was. He was on top of the fucking world with Adam Goddamn Lambert's arm around him. He shouldn't feel this shitty.
But idiot that he was, he fucking did.
The wind threw icy knives at him for being a fucking moron out on a twenty-something floor balcony in the middle of goddamn winter without an effing coat or even long sleeves. He flipped off the wind. It cared a fuck of a lot.
His angsty whiny self felt right at home. He liked the cold, the grey, the utter uselessness of it all fitting him right in. On the other side of the doors was warmth and joy and light. Outside was cold and numb and dark.
Perfect. Now if they'd all just leave him the fuck alone.
He could barely drink anymore without someone giving him kicked-puppy looks or someone else stealing his effing drinks. Spend a couple days drunk and suddenly they're treating you like a kid...well, spend a couple days drunk, lose your fucking passport, and get stuck a couple countries behind until he could dry his brain out enough to catch up...
Fuck it. He deserved them treating him like a kid. Someone dropping in all the time to check on him. Dragging him out of his room and here there and everywhere just so he wouldn't fucking get lost again. He'd done it to his own damned self. He ought to be glad they gave enough of a shit to look after him.
Ought to be fucking glad, period. World tour, goddamnit. Adam Fucking Lambert's on-stage boy-toy and thousands of pretty girls throwing themselves at him day, night, and online. Good girls, even, and wasn't that a fucking hoot? Work so damned hard on being a bad boy and all it took was making out with a gay boy...
The thought bounced off song lyrics, and Tom Petty started off in his head.
"And all the bad boys are standing in the shadows
while all the good girls are home with broken hearts.
And I'm free...free fallin'..."
The whole world was grey from where he stood--almost. A sliver of golden light came from inside, and the damned rail was painted bright red. Beyond those, though...grey clouds met grey world and wind and rain swirled grey and Tommy was where he belonged.
"I want to free fall out into nothin'
Gonna leave this world for a while."
Tommy stepped to the railing, farther from the light and into the grey. In the U.S. that damned rail would have been shoulder-height, but in Europe where they treated people as intelligent until proven otherwise, it was just about waist-high. Tommy leaned on it and it was cold and wet. He liked it, as he rested his eyes on the empty world that didn't give a damn if he did anything or not.
"And I'm free...free fallin'..."
As if dragged, Tommy's eyes fell and he looked down. Far down. Twenty floors down. And it scared the shit out of him but even that was distant and he couldn't look away. The grey faded imperceptibly into black, couldn't see the divider but down there--
Too far, this had gone too far and he should not fucking feel like this, what the hell? Tommy shoved away from the railing and stumbled back.
"Easy, glitterbaby." Warmth wrapped around Tommy. Fucking Adam, in that huge raggedy fur coat Monte gave him as a fucking joke, hauled Tommy back against his chest. "Shit, you're ice-cold!"
Was he? He hadn't noticed until Adam said it. Suddenly the band of wet from the railing stabbed like knives. Tommy turned away from the empty grey, hiding in the Adam-filled darkness under the coat where it was warm. He pressed himself to Adam and Adam wrapped long arms around and held on.
"Okay?" he asked, his voice rumbling under Tommy's ear before it came from his mouth. It was a dumbass question and he knew it; he didn't expect an answer. He just held on. Tommy started shivering and swore and his voice effing broke.
"It's okay," the damned man said. "Go on and--"
"If you start singing 'Broken Open' I will cut a bitch," Tommy snarled. Fucking Adam laughed and fell silent.
For a long time they stood there, Tommy letting the grey in his mind melt into warm black filled with the sound of Adam's heartbeat. Eventually Adam wriggled a bit, then a warm hand brushed Tommy's face and he realized Adam had pulled his arm from the coat-sleeve.
"We've been worried about you, pretty baby," Adam said softly, his big hand stroking Tommy's hair from his forehead. His thumb brushed Tommy's cheek. "Let me help."
It was the most he'd felt in a month. Tommy didn't think; he grabbed handfuls of Adam's hair and yanked that pretty face to his and kissed him. Deep. Hard. Adam gurgled surprise but then kissed back and Tommy made fists in his hair and Adam liked the tug of pain, Tommy could feel Adam's reaction against his stomach--
"Whoa." Adam broke free despite Tommy's grip. He stepped back, but Tommy followed. Adam growled deep and sexy and lifted Tommy with one arm, carried him into the hotel room.
The bright hurt his eyes. Adam saw his wince, and carried him along as he turned the lights down. Tommy made like a limpet, nuzzling Adam's neck, but then the damned man flopped into the big comfy chair and not the bed and Tommy was confused. With just a wriggle he could feel Adam's reaction to developments, so why--
"Please get off that," Adam said, lifting Tommy to the side with big hands on his hips. "You're straight, remember? I'm not going to fuck you when you're down."
Fuck. Tommy fell limp against Adam's chest. "I'm a fuckin' idiot," he growled by way of apology. Fucking Adam chuckled under his ear and stroked his hair. If he ever did turn gay, it was for damned sure gonna be Adam's hands on him that did it.
"No. You're just a bit crazy right now."
"Fuckin' crazy-ass bitch."
"Love me some crazy-ass bitch."
"Fucking asshole."
"Fucking love you."
"Fucking keep that up," Tommy said with a hitch in his throat, "and I'll be fucking singing 'Broken Open.'"
Goddamned Adam Lambert did it for him, god he was such a fucking goofy dork.
"Lay here, it's safe here, I'll let you be broken open..."
"Dumbass," Tommy growled and punched Adam's shoulder.
"I don't want you to go, don't want to see you back out in the cold..."
"Will you shut up?"
"Will you talk to me?"
Fuck. He should just go the hell back to his room, but it was a bit late for that now he was snuggled up in Adam's lap like a little kid, and Adam all worried about him and shit. He could still leave--maybe. Usually more of a happy puppy, Adam could be pretty demanding when he wanted, and he seemed pretty damned determined at the moment. And also that damned apathy was back. Tommy wasn't sure he had the energy to get his ass out of Adam's lap without help.
Adam had shed the coat after turning down the lights. Now he reached a long arm to the couch to snag it, and draped it over Tommy in his lap. Cradled like a damned baby, and he didn't fucking mind...god he was pathetic. Worse was how he snuggled up to Adam like he was fucking safe--
"Tommy Joe."
"I don't fucking know, all right? I don't know what's wrong with me, I should be fucking happy, I'm on a goddamned world tour with the best fucking bunch of goofballs and idiots I ever fucking met and I should be having the time of my fucking life, all right?"
"Fuck 'should' in the ear," Adam said and Tommy almost laughed. "How do you feel?"
That was easy. "Grey. Empty. Dead."
Adam's grip tightened. Tommy would have snarled, but he'd been twenty fucking floors up thinking things, so he'd earned it if Adam went and called the boys in white on him.
He didn't, though. Adam's grip eased and he started stroking Tommy's hair again. Tommy could have purred, if it hadn't reminded him of all the #lostkitty jokes on Twitter so he grumbled instead.
"Where'd everyone go?" he asked, realizing way late that the whole Glamtroupe had vanished. He'd killed the damn party, way to go--
"Taylor challenged Sasha to drunk-Gran Turismo. I told them to take their drunk asses home before driving. Monte went to bed, but the rest went to watch Sasha kick Taylor's ass, probably."
"You kicked them out," he half-accused.
"Yep." Adam tousled his hair. "I wanted to talk to you. I meant to wait until you came back instead of interrupting, but you were out there so damned long I got scared."
"So did I," Tommy breathed, but Adam heard him and held him close again. Tommy clung to Adam because that hollow place inside really needed what Adam so freely gave, needed it so bad that getting it hurt.
Adam kissed his forehead and eased up, stroking Tommy's hair again. Tommy melted against him and gave the hell up on moving. Like, ever.
"You didn't eat any dinner," Adam said. "Not a damned bite. I haven't seen you eat in days."
Fuck.
Adam plucked Tommy's arm from under the coat, looked at Tommy's thin wrist in his big hand. The bones stood out more than Tommy had ever seen, more than he'd noticed. "You don't have much to spare, Tommy Joe," Adam said. "Where are you trying to go?"
"Nowhere," Tommy answered with more truth than he'd meant.
"Stay here," Adam ordered. He slid sideways, plopped Tommy in the chair as he slid off it. Tommy curled up under that fluffy damn coat and stayed.
Adam was back in a minute with a plate of food. Tommy opened his mouth to say he didn't want it and Adam stuffed something gooey and sweet in it.
Fuck. Fuck it. Whatever the hell Adam wanted. It was easy enough to follow his lead on-stage. As long as he didn't give a fuck anyway, Tommy could just...follow his lead off-stage. Tommy ate the pastry.
Adam set the plate on the end table and picked up Tommy, plopped into the couch with him. He wriggled, stretching out, and Tommy lay on him and didn't mind at all and fuck, he was never gonna get anybody to believe he was straight again. Good thing the girls didn't care.
"I don't know what's wrong," Adam said. "But I know this isn't you. I don't know if it's your dad or the traveling or the exhaustion or all of the above, but...whatever. You're staying with me tonight. And if you scare yourself again, Tommy Joe, you had damned well better come running back to me. Understand?"
"Fucking toppy bitch," Tommy growled.
"Damn straight," Adam said, and stuck another gooey pastry in Tommy's mouth. He picked up the remote and turned on the TV, clicking about until he found porn. Outside the wind moaned and flung icy rain at the windows, but inside Tommy Joe Ratliff sprawled across his gay friend watching straight porn and it might be weird as hell but it was fucking good enough.
I do have smutty (not Adam) m/m on my lj should you care to come looking for it. :)
Author/Creator: KD Sarge ( downtime_mayhem )
Type: Fic
Rating: Probably R for swearing and slight sex content
Character(s): Adam Lambert, Tommy Joe Ratliff
Warnings: Tommy Joe swears, y'all. And Adam's hot. That's about it.
Summary: Tommy would say he's feeling down, but really he's not feeling much of anything at all lately.
Author's/Creator's Notes: I love me some smut as much as the next girl, but when a friend lamented that there needed to be more gen fic around, I figured she was right. And then this bunny pounced.
Disclaimer: If I owned Adam Lambert, I would NOT be on the internet, y'know? Don't own Tommy either, or know them personally even. Alas.
Cross-posted in glam_gen and teamratbert and possibly other places my friend said I should.
Inside in the warmth, someone laughed. Tommy stepped away from the French doors, one step, two, until the wind swept away the joy-filled sound.
The balcony was deeper than in most hotels he'd seen; the railing still a few steps away despite his distance from the doors. Wind swirled a nasty combo of snow and spit at him as he stood there, high above the world in some city he couldn't even remember, looking out at a universe as drab and worthless as he was.
Distantly he knew it wasn't right to feel as he did. Adam and the others valued him, didn't see him as a drag, didn't wish he would go away. They didn't see his stain on what they were creating, the mighty damned GlamNation Tour.
Tommy Joe effing Ratliff was the bassist for the next huge superstar. He was touring the fucking world. People who'd never heard of fucking Jesus knew who he was. He was on top of the fucking world with Adam Goddamn Lambert's arm around him. He shouldn't feel this shitty.
But idiot that he was, he fucking did.
The wind threw icy knives at him for being a fucking moron out on a twenty-something floor balcony in the middle of goddamn winter without an effing coat or even long sleeves. He flipped off the wind. It cared a fuck of a lot.
His angsty whiny self felt right at home. He liked the cold, the grey, the utter uselessness of it all fitting him right in. On the other side of the doors was warmth and joy and light. Outside was cold and numb and dark.
Perfect. Now if they'd all just leave him the fuck alone.
He could barely drink anymore without someone giving him kicked-puppy looks or someone else stealing his effing drinks. Spend a couple days drunk and suddenly they're treating you like a kid...well, spend a couple days drunk, lose your fucking passport, and get stuck a couple countries behind until he could dry his brain out enough to catch up...
Fuck it. He deserved them treating him like a kid. Someone dropping in all the time to check on him. Dragging him out of his room and here there and everywhere just so he wouldn't fucking get lost again. He'd done it to his own damned self. He ought to be glad they gave enough of a shit to look after him.
Ought to be fucking glad, period. World tour, goddamnit. Adam Fucking Lambert's on-stage boy-toy and thousands of pretty girls throwing themselves at him day, night, and online. Good girls, even, and wasn't that a fucking hoot? Work so damned hard on being a bad boy and all it took was making out with a gay boy...
The thought bounced off song lyrics, and Tom Petty started off in his head.
"And all the bad boys are standing in the shadows
while all the good girls are home with broken hearts.
And I'm free...free fallin'..."
The whole world was grey from where he stood--almost. A sliver of golden light came from inside, and the damned rail was painted bright red. Beyond those, though...grey clouds met grey world and wind and rain swirled grey and Tommy was where he belonged.
"I want to free fall out into nothin'
Gonna leave this world for a while."
Tommy stepped to the railing, farther from the light and into the grey. In the U.S. that damned rail would have been shoulder-height, but in Europe where they treated people as intelligent until proven otherwise, it was just about waist-high. Tommy leaned on it and it was cold and wet. He liked it, as he rested his eyes on the empty world that didn't give a damn if he did anything or not.
"And I'm free...free fallin'..."
As if dragged, Tommy's eyes fell and he looked down. Far down. Twenty floors down. And it scared the shit out of him but even that was distant and he couldn't look away. The grey faded imperceptibly into black, couldn't see the divider but down there--
Too far, this had gone too far and he should not fucking feel like this, what the hell? Tommy shoved away from the railing and stumbled back.
"Easy, glitterbaby." Warmth wrapped around Tommy. Fucking Adam, in that huge raggedy fur coat Monte gave him as a fucking joke, hauled Tommy back against his chest. "Shit, you're ice-cold!"
Was he? He hadn't noticed until Adam said it. Suddenly the band of wet from the railing stabbed like knives. Tommy turned away from the empty grey, hiding in the Adam-filled darkness under the coat where it was warm. He pressed himself to Adam and Adam wrapped long arms around and held on.
"Okay?" he asked, his voice rumbling under Tommy's ear before it came from his mouth. It was a dumbass question and he knew it; he didn't expect an answer. He just held on. Tommy started shivering and swore and his voice effing broke.
"It's okay," the damned man said. "Go on and--"
"If you start singing 'Broken Open' I will cut a bitch," Tommy snarled. Fucking Adam laughed and fell silent.
For a long time they stood there, Tommy letting the grey in his mind melt into warm black filled with the sound of Adam's heartbeat. Eventually Adam wriggled a bit, then a warm hand brushed Tommy's face and he realized Adam had pulled his arm from the coat-sleeve.
"We've been worried about you, pretty baby," Adam said softly, his big hand stroking Tommy's hair from his forehead. His thumb brushed Tommy's cheek. "Let me help."
It was the most he'd felt in a month. Tommy didn't think; he grabbed handfuls of Adam's hair and yanked that pretty face to his and kissed him. Deep. Hard. Adam gurgled surprise but then kissed back and Tommy made fists in his hair and Adam liked the tug of pain, Tommy could feel Adam's reaction against his stomach--
"Whoa." Adam broke free despite Tommy's grip. He stepped back, but Tommy followed. Adam growled deep and sexy and lifted Tommy with one arm, carried him into the hotel room.
The bright hurt his eyes. Adam saw his wince, and carried him along as he turned the lights down. Tommy made like a limpet, nuzzling Adam's neck, but then the damned man flopped into the big comfy chair and not the bed and Tommy was confused. With just a wriggle he could feel Adam's reaction to developments, so why--
"Please get off that," Adam said, lifting Tommy to the side with big hands on his hips. "You're straight, remember? I'm not going to fuck you when you're down."
Fuck. Tommy fell limp against Adam's chest. "I'm a fuckin' idiot," he growled by way of apology. Fucking Adam chuckled under his ear and stroked his hair. If he ever did turn gay, it was for damned sure gonna be Adam's hands on him that did it.
"No. You're just a bit crazy right now."
"Fuckin' crazy-ass bitch."
"Love me some crazy-ass bitch."
"Fucking asshole."
"Fucking love you."
"Fucking keep that up," Tommy said with a hitch in his throat, "and I'll be fucking singing 'Broken Open.'"
Goddamned Adam Lambert did it for him, god he was such a fucking goofy dork.
"Lay here, it's safe here, I'll let you be broken open..."
"Dumbass," Tommy growled and punched Adam's shoulder.
"I don't want you to go, don't want to see you back out in the cold..."
"Will you shut up?"
"Will you talk to me?"
Fuck. He should just go the hell back to his room, but it was a bit late for that now he was snuggled up in Adam's lap like a little kid, and Adam all worried about him and shit. He could still leave--maybe. Usually more of a happy puppy, Adam could be pretty demanding when he wanted, and he seemed pretty damned determined at the moment. And also that damned apathy was back. Tommy wasn't sure he had the energy to get his ass out of Adam's lap without help.
Adam had shed the coat after turning down the lights. Now he reached a long arm to the couch to snag it, and draped it over Tommy in his lap. Cradled like a damned baby, and he didn't fucking mind...god he was pathetic. Worse was how he snuggled up to Adam like he was fucking safe--
"Tommy Joe."
"I don't fucking know, all right? I don't know what's wrong with me, I should be fucking happy, I'm on a goddamned world tour with the best fucking bunch of goofballs and idiots I ever fucking met and I should be having the time of my fucking life, all right?"
"Fuck 'should' in the ear," Adam said and Tommy almost laughed. "How do you feel?"
That was easy. "Grey. Empty. Dead."
Adam's grip tightened. Tommy would have snarled, but he'd been twenty fucking floors up thinking things, so he'd earned it if Adam went and called the boys in white on him.
He didn't, though. Adam's grip eased and he started stroking Tommy's hair again. Tommy could have purred, if it hadn't reminded him of all the #lostkitty jokes on Twitter so he grumbled instead.
"Where'd everyone go?" he asked, realizing way late that the whole Glamtroupe had vanished. He'd killed the damn party, way to go--
"Taylor challenged Sasha to drunk-Gran Turismo. I told them to take their drunk asses home before driving. Monte went to bed, but the rest went to watch Sasha kick Taylor's ass, probably."
"You kicked them out," he half-accused.
"Yep." Adam tousled his hair. "I wanted to talk to you. I meant to wait until you came back instead of interrupting, but you were out there so damned long I got scared."
"So did I," Tommy breathed, but Adam heard him and held him close again. Tommy clung to Adam because that hollow place inside really needed what Adam so freely gave, needed it so bad that getting it hurt.
Adam kissed his forehead and eased up, stroking Tommy's hair again. Tommy melted against him and gave the hell up on moving. Like, ever.
"You didn't eat any dinner," Adam said. "Not a damned bite. I haven't seen you eat in days."
Fuck.
Adam plucked Tommy's arm from under the coat, looked at Tommy's thin wrist in his big hand. The bones stood out more than Tommy had ever seen, more than he'd noticed. "You don't have much to spare, Tommy Joe," Adam said. "Where are you trying to go?"
"Nowhere," Tommy answered with more truth than he'd meant.
"Stay here," Adam ordered. He slid sideways, plopped Tommy in the chair as he slid off it. Tommy curled up under that fluffy damn coat and stayed.
Adam was back in a minute with a plate of food. Tommy opened his mouth to say he didn't want it and Adam stuffed something gooey and sweet in it.
Fuck. Fuck it. Whatever the hell Adam wanted. It was easy enough to follow his lead on-stage. As long as he didn't give a fuck anyway, Tommy could just...follow his lead off-stage. Tommy ate the pastry.
Adam set the plate on the end table and picked up Tommy, plopped into the couch with him. He wriggled, stretching out, and Tommy lay on him and didn't mind at all and fuck, he was never gonna get anybody to believe he was straight again. Good thing the girls didn't care.
"I don't know what's wrong," Adam said. "But I know this isn't you. I don't know if it's your dad or the traveling or the exhaustion or all of the above, but...whatever. You're staying with me tonight. And if you scare yourself again, Tommy Joe, you had damned well better come running back to me. Understand?"
"Fucking toppy bitch," Tommy growled.
"Damn straight," Adam said, and stuck another gooey pastry in Tommy's mouth. He picked up the remote and turned on the TV, clicking about until he found porn. Outside the wind moaned and flung icy rain at the windows, but inside Tommy Joe Ratliff sprawled across his gay friend watching straight porn and it might be weird as hell but it was fucking good enough.
I do have smutty (not Adam) m/m on my lj should you care to come looking for it. :)