Fic: Four Times Adam Didn't Meet Tommy, and One Time He Did
title: Four Times Adam Didn't Meet Tommy, and One Time He Did
pairing: Adam/Tommy (and one little tiny bit of Adam/Brad)
rating: PG (lol whut)
words: 1770
warning: five different AUs
summary: um... Four Times Adam Didn't Meet Tommy, and One Time He Did
disclaimer: Very untrue. Don't google yourself. Don't pass this along to anyone involved.
a/n: this was inspired by (though is nothing like) a short story by Margaret Atwood called Happy Endings. it is also unbeta'd.
on ao3
1.
Brooke is practically counting down the seconds from the passenger seat. “We’re gonna be so late,” she groans, covering her eyes with her hand. “Come on, let’s just go.”
“I already put in the order,” Adam protests. He leans his head out the window, trying to see what the hold-up is. The drive-thru line hasn’t budged in at least twenty minutes, or so it feels. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “We can’t just leave.”
“It’s a Taco Bell, Adam, not a five-star restaurant.”
Adam sighs and looks longingly at the exit sign up ahead.
“Adam. Come on. We’re already going to be, like, fifteen minutes late if we leave right now.”
Adam drums his fingers on the wheel again. He finally looks over at her apologetically. “Honey, if I don’t get something to eat, I’m never going to make it until midnight.”
“Jesus,” Brook moans. “We’ll send one of the techies out for coffee, for fuck’s sake.”
“I haven’t eaten anything all day, and I’m the one that has to-Oh hey, look.”
The car at the pick-up window speeds away and the line moves up. The three cars in front of theirs take their to-go bags and get the hell out as fast as possible. Adam pulls up to the window. There’s nobody there.
“Adam, we’re so late-”
“Hi, sorry for the wait, here’s your food, thanks for your patience,” says a kid in an apron and ridiculous hat as he darts up to the window. Adam immediately fixates on the smudges of black eyeliner beneath his eyes. He passes Adam a bag and two sodas. Adam hands them over to Brooke and turns back to the window, but the kid’s already gone. Adam waits, hoping he’ll come back, already making up a story about not having enough salt or whatever, anything to get the boy to talk to him, but Brooke punches him in the shoulder and he steps on the gas.
2.
It’s the blonde hair that catches Adam’s eye, at first. Everyone in the club has dark hair; it’s a sea of black and brown and red and, in a few memorable cases, blue, so this guy stands out. He’s wearing all black, like he’s trying to blend into the crowd, but there’s a bird’s nest of white-blonde atop his head.
He turns away from the bar, having finally received his drink, and Adam can see his face. His eyes are done up beautifully with makeup, and his lips are shiny pink with gloss, and he weaves through the crowd heading straight for Adam.
Adam’s fingers tighten around the neck of his beer bottle. The pretty boy turns at the last moment and joins a group of boisterous guys who are shouting good-naturedly about… something. Adam tunes out the conversation when he can’t figure it out and just focuses on this one man. He stands at the fringes of the group, nodding along but not speaking much, and never smiling. He looks almost bored.
The man’s gaze wanders away from his friends. Adam tracks his focus to the bar, then around the room. He sees him catch a pretty brunette’s eye-she smiles at him, ducks her head coquettishly, and he moves on-and then he faces Adam. It takes Adam a moment to realize the kid’s staring right at him; his breath sticks in his throat when the man gives him a quick once-over.
Adam’s almost made up his mind to go over and talk to him when he’s interrupted by an arm around his neck and a warm, slight body flush against his side.
“Hey, baby, I’m so sorry I’m late, I got stuck in traffic,” Brad murmurs, already leaning up for a kiss, which Adam grants.
Adam flashes a smile and looks away from the boy with the blonde hair to the boy in his arms. “It’s fine. You want a drink?”
3.
Adam is bored. Adam is very bored. He’s at the stage of boredom where drawing patterns in the condensation on his can of Coke is considered a highlight of the afternoon. He sighs deeply and rests his hand on his chin, watching the cars pass outside.
He’s so caught up in the mindless staring contest with nature that he totally misses the bell on the door dinging. He hears footsteps, then a flat smack as someone sets something on the counter, and then there’s a voice.
“Um. Hey? Hello?”
Adam jerks to attention. “Hi, sorry, how can I help you?” he asks automatically.
There’s a young man, maybe late teens, early twenties, definitely cute, standing opposite the counter with his wallet out. “Um,” he says. “I want to check out?”
“Oh! Right. Sorry.” Adam laughs nervously. The boy’s cute. Adam’s flustered. “It’s been a slow day. Got kinda lost in my head. Sorry.”
The boy returns his chuckle, sounding equally nervous, and it gives Adam hope. He looks down at the items on the counter. An eyeliner pencil and a tube of pink lip gloss. He rings them up and keeps his face neutral, but when he takes the boy’s card, he can’t help but sneak a look. He’s not wearing makeup at the moment, but he has gorgeous skin, and Adam can easily imagine those eyes rimmed in black.
The boy blushes and says, quickly, “They’re for my-my friend.”
Before Adam has the chance to reassure him, the door dings again and a girl comes in, stalking straight up to the counter.
“Tommy, we’re gonna be late,” she says, taking hold of the guy’s jacket and tugging him.
“I’m checking out,” he replies, then looks apologetically at Adam.
Adam stomps down on the rush of disappointment and hands Tommy back his card and his receipt. “Would you like a bag?” he asks in his best customer-pleasing voice.
“No, thanks,” Tommy answers. He tucks the eyeliner in his back pocket and cracks the seal on the lip gloss. He offers the bit of plastic to Adam. “Would you mind throwing this away for me?”
Adam takes it without touching Tommy’s hand. “Sure, yeah. Have a nice day.”
The girl pulls Tommy towards the door, and Adam watches him fold the lip gloss into his palm and bury both hands in his jacket pockets.
4.
Adam always tries to look past the first few rows, no matter how dark it is behind the glare of the spotlight. It’s easier when the lights dim or the spotlight goes off him for a moment; he can get a real sense of his audience. Tonight is fun, relaxing; they’re at a gay bar, so he’s actually got a chance with the boys that shove up close to the stage, and he’s got practically all of his former castmates clustered at a table near the back, cheering him on and whistling between songs.
Adam turns to grab a bottle of water off Monte’s amp, and when he turns back to the crowd, he sees him: the prettiest boy at the club, squeezed into the middle of the group. Adam focuses on him as he starts the next song, turning up the heat on his gaze. The boy’s staring back at him; there’s no way he won’t notice.
But then a girl pushes her way through the crowd and taps the boy on the shoulder, handing him a beer and leaning in for a kiss. And yes, Adam’s kissed his girlfriends, but it was never like that. Adam takes it in stride, shifting his gaze to some of the pretty boys at the front and dialing down the intensity, glad that he didn’t have time to get more invested.
5.
It’s physically impossible for Adam to go into a Barnes & Noble bookstore and leave without visiting the music section. He roams the aisles for a while, picking up the cookbook his mom wanted and an astrology book for himself, then heads over to look at the CDs. As soon as he rounds the corner, he sees an adorable tuft of hair sticking out from beneath a pair of giant headphones.
The boy’s obviously invested in whatever music he’s listening to; his head bobs along and Adam catches a glimpse of his fingers tapping to the beat as well. Adam flicks through a few rows of CDs, not really paying attention to the titles as his hands slide over the cases. He’s too focused on watching the boy with the headphones and skin-tight jeans.
As Adam walks around the listening station at the end of the aisle, he tries to be casual about checking out the boy’s face. All he can really see is the sharp cut of his jaw and pink lips pushed into a pout. The rest of his face is covered by his bangs, pressed down against his head by the massive headphones.
Adam settles into place next to the boy and flips through the CDs one by one, waiting for him to finish listening to whatever song he’s on and take those headphones off. But a moment later, the boy just presses the button for another CD. This one has a faster beat; Adam can tell from the head-bopping. Adam watches him get lost in the new song and the boy’s oblivious; Adam smiles.
Then he accidentally-on-purpose brushes against the boy’s arm.
The boy startles and yanks off the headphones, shaking his hair out of his eyes. He’s wearing makeup-more than just eyeliner-and his eyebrows are
plucked to perfection. “Sorry,” he says. “Did you want to listen to something?”
“No, it’s fine,” Adam replies quickly. “What were you listening to, though? You seemed into it.”
“Uh… I don’t know. Number three.”
Adam nods. He doesn’t look over the boy’s shoulder at the labels next to the buttons, so he doesn’t miss the way the boy’s track down Adam’s body, all the way to his booted feet, and back up. Slowly. Adam’s lips twist into a smirk.
“What’s your name?” he asks, pitching his voice a little lower.
“Tommy.”
“I know it’s getting late, but there’s a coffee shop near the entrance,” Adam tells him. He pauses for effect, sees Tommy draw in a breath. “Can I buy you a drink?”
Tommy doesn’t jump to reply, like Adam had expected. He gives Adam another once-over, then nods. “Okay, sure.” Adam’s about to introduce himself, but Tommy shrugs his shoulders and raises his eyebrows slyly. “Or we could go somewhere else. Maybe… somewhere darker. With music. And alcohol.”
Adam reaches up and curls a hand around Tommy’s shoulder, pulling him away from the listening station. He grins at the satisfied look on Tommy’s face. “I think that’s an excellent idea.”
fin.
pairing: Adam/Tommy (and one little tiny bit of Adam/Brad)
rating: PG (lol whut)
words: 1770
warning: five different AUs
summary: um... Four Times Adam Didn't Meet Tommy, and One Time He Did
disclaimer: Very untrue. Don't google yourself. Don't pass this along to anyone involved.
a/n: this was inspired by (though is nothing like) a short story by Margaret Atwood called Happy Endings. it is also unbeta'd.
on ao3
1.
Brooke is practically counting down the seconds from the passenger seat. “We’re gonna be so late,” she groans, covering her eyes with her hand. “Come on, let’s just go.”
“I already put in the order,” Adam protests. He leans his head out the window, trying to see what the hold-up is. The drive-thru line hasn’t budged in at least twenty minutes, or so it feels. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “We can’t just leave.”
“It’s a Taco Bell, Adam, not a five-star restaurant.”
Adam sighs and looks longingly at the exit sign up ahead.
“Adam. Come on. We’re already going to be, like, fifteen minutes late if we leave right now.”
Adam drums his fingers on the wheel again. He finally looks over at her apologetically. “Honey, if I don’t get something to eat, I’m never going to make it until midnight.”
“Jesus,” Brook moans. “We’ll send one of the techies out for coffee, for fuck’s sake.”
“I haven’t eaten anything all day, and I’m the one that has to-Oh hey, look.”
The car at the pick-up window speeds away and the line moves up. The three cars in front of theirs take their to-go bags and get the hell out as fast as possible. Adam pulls up to the window. There’s nobody there.
“Adam, we’re so late-”
“Hi, sorry for the wait, here’s your food, thanks for your patience,” says a kid in an apron and ridiculous hat as he darts up to the window. Adam immediately fixates on the smudges of black eyeliner beneath his eyes. He passes Adam a bag and two sodas. Adam hands them over to Brooke and turns back to the window, but the kid’s already gone. Adam waits, hoping he’ll come back, already making up a story about not having enough salt or whatever, anything to get the boy to talk to him, but Brooke punches him in the shoulder and he steps on the gas.
2.
It’s the blonde hair that catches Adam’s eye, at first. Everyone in the club has dark hair; it’s a sea of black and brown and red and, in a few memorable cases, blue, so this guy stands out. He’s wearing all black, like he’s trying to blend into the crowd, but there’s a bird’s nest of white-blonde atop his head.
He turns away from the bar, having finally received his drink, and Adam can see his face. His eyes are done up beautifully with makeup, and his lips are shiny pink with gloss, and he weaves through the crowd heading straight for Adam.
Adam’s fingers tighten around the neck of his beer bottle. The pretty boy turns at the last moment and joins a group of boisterous guys who are shouting good-naturedly about… something. Adam tunes out the conversation when he can’t figure it out and just focuses on this one man. He stands at the fringes of the group, nodding along but not speaking much, and never smiling. He looks almost bored.
The man’s gaze wanders away from his friends. Adam tracks his focus to the bar, then around the room. He sees him catch a pretty brunette’s eye-she smiles at him, ducks her head coquettishly, and he moves on-and then he faces Adam. It takes Adam a moment to realize the kid’s staring right at him; his breath sticks in his throat when the man gives him a quick once-over.
Adam’s almost made up his mind to go over and talk to him when he’s interrupted by an arm around his neck and a warm, slight body flush against his side.
“Hey, baby, I’m so sorry I’m late, I got stuck in traffic,” Brad murmurs, already leaning up for a kiss, which Adam grants.
Adam flashes a smile and looks away from the boy with the blonde hair to the boy in his arms. “It’s fine. You want a drink?”
3.
Adam is bored. Adam is very bored. He’s at the stage of boredom where drawing patterns in the condensation on his can of Coke is considered a highlight of the afternoon. He sighs deeply and rests his hand on his chin, watching the cars pass outside.
He’s so caught up in the mindless staring contest with nature that he totally misses the bell on the door dinging. He hears footsteps, then a flat smack as someone sets something on the counter, and then there’s a voice.
“Um. Hey? Hello?”
Adam jerks to attention. “Hi, sorry, how can I help you?” he asks automatically.
There’s a young man, maybe late teens, early twenties, definitely cute, standing opposite the counter with his wallet out. “Um,” he says. “I want to check out?”
“Oh! Right. Sorry.” Adam laughs nervously. The boy’s cute. Adam’s flustered. “It’s been a slow day. Got kinda lost in my head. Sorry.”
The boy returns his chuckle, sounding equally nervous, and it gives Adam hope. He looks down at the items on the counter. An eyeliner pencil and a tube of pink lip gloss. He rings them up and keeps his face neutral, but when he takes the boy’s card, he can’t help but sneak a look. He’s not wearing makeup at the moment, but he has gorgeous skin, and Adam can easily imagine those eyes rimmed in black.
The boy blushes and says, quickly, “They’re for my-my friend.”
Before Adam has the chance to reassure him, the door dings again and a girl comes in, stalking straight up to the counter.
“Tommy, we’re gonna be late,” she says, taking hold of the guy’s jacket and tugging him.
“I’m checking out,” he replies, then looks apologetically at Adam.
Adam stomps down on the rush of disappointment and hands Tommy back his card and his receipt. “Would you like a bag?” he asks in his best customer-pleasing voice.
“No, thanks,” Tommy answers. He tucks the eyeliner in his back pocket and cracks the seal on the lip gloss. He offers the bit of plastic to Adam. “Would you mind throwing this away for me?”
Adam takes it without touching Tommy’s hand. “Sure, yeah. Have a nice day.”
The girl pulls Tommy towards the door, and Adam watches him fold the lip gloss into his palm and bury both hands in his jacket pockets.
4.
Adam always tries to look past the first few rows, no matter how dark it is behind the glare of the spotlight. It’s easier when the lights dim or the spotlight goes off him for a moment; he can get a real sense of his audience. Tonight is fun, relaxing; they’re at a gay bar, so he’s actually got a chance with the boys that shove up close to the stage, and he’s got practically all of his former castmates clustered at a table near the back, cheering him on and whistling between songs.
Adam turns to grab a bottle of water off Monte’s amp, and when he turns back to the crowd, he sees him: the prettiest boy at the club, squeezed into the middle of the group. Adam focuses on him as he starts the next song, turning up the heat on his gaze. The boy’s staring back at him; there’s no way he won’t notice.
But then a girl pushes her way through the crowd and taps the boy on the shoulder, handing him a beer and leaning in for a kiss. And yes, Adam’s kissed his girlfriends, but it was never like that. Adam takes it in stride, shifting his gaze to some of the pretty boys at the front and dialing down the intensity, glad that he didn’t have time to get more invested.
5.
It’s physically impossible for Adam to go into a Barnes & Noble bookstore and leave without visiting the music section. He roams the aisles for a while, picking up the cookbook his mom wanted and an astrology book for himself, then heads over to look at the CDs. As soon as he rounds the corner, he sees an adorable tuft of hair sticking out from beneath a pair of giant headphones.
The boy’s obviously invested in whatever music he’s listening to; his head bobs along and Adam catches a glimpse of his fingers tapping to the beat as well. Adam flicks through a few rows of CDs, not really paying attention to the titles as his hands slide over the cases. He’s too focused on watching the boy with the headphones and skin-tight jeans.
As Adam walks around the listening station at the end of the aisle, he tries to be casual about checking out the boy’s face. All he can really see is the sharp cut of his jaw and pink lips pushed into a pout. The rest of his face is covered by his bangs, pressed down against his head by the massive headphones.
Adam settles into place next to the boy and flips through the CDs one by one, waiting for him to finish listening to whatever song he’s on and take those headphones off. But a moment later, the boy just presses the button for another CD. This one has a faster beat; Adam can tell from the head-bopping. Adam watches him get lost in the new song and the boy’s oblivious; Adam smiles.
Then he accidentally-on-purpose brushes against the boy’s arm.
The boy startles and yanks off the headphones, shaking his hair out of his eyes. He’s wearing makeup-more than just eyeliner-and his eyebrows are
plucked to perfection. “Sorry,” he says. “Did you want to listen to something?”
“No, it’s fine,” Adam replies quickly. “What were you listening to, though? You seemed into it.”
“Uh… I don’t know. Number three.”
Adam nods. He doesn’t look over the boy’s shoulder at the labels next to the buttons, so he doesn’t miss the way the boy’s track down Adam’s body, all the way to his booted feet, and back up. Slowly. Adam’s lips twist into a smirk.
“What’s your name?” he asks, pitching his voice a little lower.
“Tommy.”
“I know it’s getting late, but there’s a coffee shop near the entrance,” Adam tells him. He pauses for effect, sees Tommy draw in a breath. “Can I buy you a drink?”
Tommy doesn’t jump to reply, like Adam had expected. He gives Adam another once-over, then nods. “Okay, sure.” Adam’s about to introduce himself, but Tommy shrugs his shoulders and raises his eyebrows slyly. “Or we could go somewhere else. Maybe… somewhere darker. With music. And alcohol.”
Adam reaches up and curls a hand around Tommy’s shoulder, pulling him away from the listening station. He grins at the satisfied look on Tommy’s face. “I think that’s an excellent idea.”
fin.