This House, This Home
Title: This House, This Home
Chapter: One-Shot
Genre: Romance
Fandom: Glamnation
Word Count: 1313
Rating: PG
Warnings: Mushiness.
Summary: Tommy is scared about Adam leaving such an important decision up to him. He doesn't believe he'll make the right one. Everything always goes wrong, afterall.
Disclaimer: This shit ain't real, yo. Don't get uppity and start thinking it is.
---
Moving through the house, Tommy didn’t know whether to feel at home or like a stranger. This house was both his and not, an off and a declination. All by his own hands, of course; he’d never blame anyone else for his inability to make decisions. Adam had given him full permission to move in if he so felt inclined, but he wasn’t sure what he felt right now. He could try to quantify it and most probably fail. Some would call it unease, some cowardice. He was unfortunate enough to be leaning towards the later.
As a grown man, Tommy knew one thing: He just needed to take control of the situation. Assert himself within it rather than sitting on the periphery hoping it decides itself for him. If he made an actual decision, though, it would mean he would have to take responsibility for that decision once everything went wrong.
And everything always went wrong.
After much self exploration and contemplation, Tommy had come to the conclusion that Adam had figured out his normal course of action and was now calling him out on it. All without saying anything. Adam saw the indecision; he saw Tommy’s cowardice and he chose to control it. He didn’t say anything aloud. That wasn’t his way despite his near inability to ever shut up. He’d given the decision, left it entirely in Tommy’s hands and now he was just waiting to see what the blond would decide.
In short, it was maddening.
Tommy didn’t know if he should be mad or scared or both. At current he was in the ‘both’ category. He didn’t want the responsibility. He was happy letting things come as they may and he almost resented Adam for leaving such an important decision to the least decisive person ever. But at the same time he recognized that Adam wasn’t just leaving it up to him. He was giving Tommy the decision, trusting him with it regardless of whether Tommy made the right decision or not, recognizing this didn’t change how terrifying it was but it did change his perception of Adam, pushing it a little more towards respect.
Adam was out at meetings all day and so Tommy had the house to himself. Tommy vs The House. Terrifying. Deciding that the only fair way to make this decision was to acquaint himself with the house and see if he could get along with it. So, barefoot and clad only in a pair of sweats, Tommy glided through the house like a ghost: unseen, quiet. He disturbed nothing, said nothing. Wishing to know the house simply as it was.
Adam was clearly rubbing off on his with all that energy connection bullshit.
He moved from the bedroom first, the one room he already felt most acquainted and comfortable with. When he was at Adam’s, that’s usually where they were. But you can’t just live in a bedroom. The halls were spacious and welcoming. Tommy’s only mental image of hallways was the anonymous and imposing halls of hotels. You move through them with only the intention of getting out of them. Adam’s halls were like laughter. They were life, put on display as nearly every space was filled with pictures of himself and friends, of idol and the tour, of family. To others it might seem cluttered, crowded. To Tommy it perfectly mimicked the boisterous, exciting existence that was Adam, that anything less would seem lackluster and ill-designed.
But you can’t just live in halls any more than you can just live in a bedroom. The music room was next, a room Tommy hadn’t been in as much as he should. This was another room that terrified him, to write music in there, to create, meant to assert yourself into the room, to make yourself a part of it. For what was a music room without its musicians? Tommy wasn’t ready for that. He entered it regardless, forcing his feet to move, to settle, on cool hardwood that warmed slowly under his soles. He passed the mic and the stand, the desk covered in half written music he didn’t feel privileged enough yet to see. He went to the guitars, by the piano, knowing that while Adam might not know how to play them, his friends did and that mattered to Adam. He walked the perimeter of the room, reaching out but not allowing his hands to settle on the guitars he DID know how to play. He wasn’t ready, not yet.
Unfortunately, you couldn’t live in a music room even if you can live in the halls and bedroom. Stepping out he moved into the living room, feeling its size immediately. Like the music room, like the bedroom and the halls, the living room was Adam. It was Adam’s height with its pitched, cathedral ceilings. It was his bright laugh and smile with its sky lights. It was his open embrace with its large, spacious couches. It was his spirit with the rick jewel toned walls and fun fabrics.
From the corner of his eye, Tommy spotted his own jacket, draped carelessly over the back of one love seat. Moving from his rooted position, still silent, he removed it as its original placement was a mistake. If Tommy was going to learn this house, he had to do it as if he wasn’t there at all.
Now the idea crossed his mind that maybe you could live in a living room if you could live in the halls, in the music room, in the bedroom. Maybe. But the uncertainty in all that was enough for Tommy to continue. The kitchen felt the least familiar, the least like Adam. While it was his creativity and curiosity, it also felt untouched, unexplored, something Tommy knew to be untrue in Adam. Adam didn’t cook. Tommy didn’t either but unlike Adam he actually could, He just couldn’t cook in a house that wasn’t his. And this house was not his. But maybe he could if he could live in the bedroom and halls, music room and living room. Maybe he could cook in the untouched kitchen.
Maybe.
The last room to be explored was a room rarely even considered a room: the foyer. It was too small to be a legitimate room, but too big to be a closet. It held the large French front door and the falsely cheery welcome mat. It was in the room that wasn’t a room that Tommy found his answer.
While Tommy was void in all other room, even the extra guest rooms since left untouched, Tommy wasn’t missing in the foyer. Insignificant to most, probably even to Adam, Tommy’s shoes had found their home next to Adam’s under the shoes rack. Out of the way but tucked in close nonetheless. Unlike the coat and unlike the guitars, this placement was purposeful. When Tommy walked in his shoes always went there. That was their place. That was their home.
That was where they belonged.
When Adam got home later that evening, he would toe off his shoes and slide them in next to Tommy’s. When he moved through the living room he would see Tommy’s jacket thrown carelessly over the couch. When he passed by the music room he would see Tommy’s guitar set with the others. In the hall he would see his face captured on film and in the bedroom he would smell him still tangled in the sheets. But it was in the kitchen he would find him, standing in front of the over, filling their home with the smell of spicy chili and baking corn bread. When he moved up behind him he would find Tommy leaning back into his embrace. And when he set his chin on his shoulder he would hear Tommy say three simple words that gave him his answer.
“Welcome home, rockstar.”
---
Author’s Notes: I wrote this on a plane, flying from Georgia to Arizona. It was one of those moments where I just needed to write with no direction. It really was just a stream of consciousness. I both hate this and love it. It feels lost in the beginning and I really only like the very last bit where Adam got home. Since I barely follow the facts of the fandom (even though I should) I don't know what Adam's house looks like or if I even got it right. I just wrote stuff so if it's wrong, just ignore it. Hope you all enjoy.
Credits: Glamily belongs to themselves. Silly romance belongs to Eros. Everything else belongs to me.
Chapter: One-Shot
Genre: Romance
Fandom: Glamnation
Word Count: 1313
Rating: PG
Warnings: Mushiness.
Summary: Tommy is scared about Adam leaving such an important decision up to him. He doesn't believe he'll make the right one. Everything always goes wrong, afterall.
Disclaimer: This shit ain't real, yo. Don't get uppity and start thinking it is.
---
Moving through the house, Tommy didn’t know whether to feel at home or like a stranger. This house was both his and not, an off and a declination. All by his own hands, of course; he’d never blame anyone else for his inability to make decisions. Adam had given him full permission to move in if he so felt inclined, but he wasn’t sure what he felt right now. He could try to quantify it and most probably fail. Some would call it unease, some cowardice. He was unfortunate enough to be leaning towards the later.
As a grown man, Tommy knew one thing: He just needed to take control of the situation. Assert himself within it rather than sitting on the periphery hoping it decides itself for him. If he made an actual decision, though, it would mean he would have to take responsibility for that decision once everything went wrong.
And everything always went wrong.
After much self exploration and contemplation, Tommy had come to the conclusion that Adam had figured out his normal course of action and was now calling him out on it. All without saying anything. Adam saw the indecision; he saw Tommy’s cowardice and he chose to control it. He didn’t say anything aloud. That wasn’t his way despite his near inability to ever shut up. He’d given the decision, left it entirely in Tommy’s hands and now he was just waiting to see what the blond would decide.
In short, it was maddening.
Tommy didn’t know if he should be mad or scared or both. At current he was in the ‘both’ category. He didn’t want the responsibility. He was happy letting things come as they may and he almost resented Adam for leaving such an important decision to the least decisive person ever. But at the same time he recognized that Adam wasn’t just leaving it up to him. He was giving Tommy the decision, trusting him with it regardless of whether Tommy made the right decision or not, recognizing this didn’t change how terrifying it was but it did change his perception of Adam, pushing it a little more towards respect.
Adam was out at meetings all day and so Tommy had the house to himself. Tommy vs The House. Terrifying. Deciding that the only fair way to make this decision was to acquaint himself with the house and see if he could get along with it. So, barefoot and clad only in a pair of sweats, Tommy glided through the house like a ghost: unseen, quiet. He disturbed nothing, said nothing. Wishing to know the house simply as it was.
Adam was clearly rubbing off on his with all that energy connection bullshit.
He moved from the bedroom first, the one room he already felt most acquainted and comfortable with. When he was at Adam’s, that’s usually where they were. But you can’t just live in a bedroom. The halls were spacious and welcoming. Tommy’s only mental image of hallways was the anonymous and imposing halls of hotels. You move through them with only the intention of getting out of them. Adam’s halls were like laughter. They were life, put on display as nearly every space was filled with pictures of himself and friends, of idol and the tour, of family. To others it might seem cluttered, crowded. To Tommy it perfectly mimicked the boisterous, exciting existence that was Adam, that anything less would seem lackluster and ill-designed.
But you can’t just live in halls any more than you can just live in a bedroom. The music room was next, a room Tommy hadn’t been in as much as he should. This was another room that terrified him, to write music in there, to create, meant to assert yourself into the room, to make yourself a part of it. For what was a music room without its musicians? Tommy wasn’t ready for that. He entered it regardless, forcing his feet to move, to settle, on cool hardwood that warmed slowly under his soles. He passed the mic and the stand, the desk covered in half written music he didn’t feel privileged enough yet to see. He went to the guitars, by the piano, knowing that while Adam might not know how to play them, his friends did and that mattered to Adam. He walked the perimeter of the room, reaching out but not allowing his hands to settle on the guitars he DID know how to play. He wasn’t ready, not yet.
Unfortunately, you couldn’t live in a music room even if you can live in the halls and bedroom. Stepping out he moved into the living room, feeling its size immediately. Like the music room, like the bedroom and the halls, the living room was Adam. It was Adam’s height with its pitched, cathedral ceilings. It was his bright laugh and smile with its sky lights. It was his open embrace with its large, spacious couches. It was his spirit with the rick jewel toned walls and fun fabrics.
From the corner of his eye, Tommy spotted his own jacket, draped carelessly over the back of one love seat. Moving from his rooted position, still silent, he removed it as its original placement was a mistake. If Tommy was going to learn this house, he had to do it as if he wasn’t there at all.
Now the idea crossed his mind that maybe you could live in a living room if you could live in the halls, in the music room, in the bedroom. Maybe. But the uncertainty in all that was enough for Tommy to continue. The kitchen felt the least familiar, the least like Adam. While it was his creativity and curiosity, it also felt untouched, unexplored, something Tommy knew to be untrue in Adam. Adam didn’t cook. Tommy didn’t either but unlike Adam he actually could, He just couldn’t cook in a house that wasn’t his. And this house was not his. But maybe he could if he could live in the bedroom and halls, music room and living room. Maybe he could cook in the untouched kitchen.
Maybe.
The last room to be explored was a room rarely even considered a room: the foyer. It was too small to be a legitimate room, but too big to be a closet. It held the large French front door and the falsely cheery welcome mat. It was in the room that wasn’t a room that Tommy found his answer.
While Tommy was void in all other room, even the extra guest rooms since left untouched, Tommy wasn’t missing in the foyer. Insignificant to most, probably even to Adam, Tommy’s shoes had found their home next to Adam’s under the shoes rack. Out of the way but tucked in close nonetheless. Unlike the coat and unlike the guitars, this placement was purposeful. When Tommy walked in his shoes always went there. That was their place. That was their home.
That was where they belonged.
When Adam got home later that evening, he would toe off his shoes and slide them in next to Tommy’s. When he moved through the living room he would see Tommy’s jacket thrown carelessly over the couch. When he passed by the music room he would see Tommy’s guitar set with the others. In the hall he would see his face captured on film and in the bedroom he would smell him still tangled in the sheets. But it was in the kitchen he would find him, standing in front of the over, filling their home with the smell of spicy chili and baking corn bread. When he moved up behind him he would find Tommy leaning back into his embrace. And when he set his chin on his shoulder he would hear Tommy say three simple words that gave him his answer.
“Welcome home, rockstar.”
---
Author’s Notes: I wrote this on a plane, flying from Georgia to Arizona. It was one of those moments where I just needed to write with no direction. It really was just a stream of consciousness. I both hate this and love it. It feels lost in the beginning and I really only like the very last bit where Adam got home. Since I barely follow the facts of the fandom (even though I should) I don't know what Adam's house looks like or if I even got it right. I just wrote stuff so if it's wrong, just ignore it. Hope you all enjoy.
Credits: Glamily belongs to themselves. Silly romance belongs to Eros. Everything else belongs to me.