FIC - A Brand New Domain (Chandler Kiehl/Adam Crawford) (part 2)
( part 1)
"How did you know I love Indian food?" Chandler squeals, when Adam guides him to a hole-in-the-wall a couple steps below street level, holding the door open for him like a gentleman and everything. You almost can't see the place from the sidewalk, which in Chandler's experience means everything will be extra-delicious, and he's already getting way too excited.
"Lucky guess," says Adam. The waiter offers "two" with his fingers and they nod, and follow him to a table. "And I dunno, I suppose I was in the mood for something a bit spicy."
He flashes Chandler a wicked smile and Chandler returns it, even as his heart is skipping a beat. "Ooh la la, Mr. Crawford, don't make promises you don't intend to keep."
"I wouldn't dream of it," says Adam, and his voice is much more serious than expected and Chandler could just dance, yes yes yes.
"So what's best here? You're the expert." He leans in over the table to share a menu with Adam, crowding as close as he can. Adam points out a couple of different options and Chandler hangs on every word, eventually going with his standby favorite of chicken tikka masala. Adam gets the mattar paneer extra hot, and some naan for them to share. His foot comes to rest against Chandler's calf just above his ankle, and Chandler totally lets it.
All in all, it feels more like a third or fourth date than a first one, and Chandler's starting to find that he's got zero problem with that. It's been ages since he's been afforded the opportunity to grow so comfortable with someone, so familiar after so many hours spent together over the past few weeks. He's not used to this - not used to being wanted, being wooed with flirty Facebook chats and what is basically the most amazing Indian food he's ever had. Most guys spend two hours with him and decide he's really annoying. His own roommate thinks he's annoying, and they barely do more than sleep in the same room. Chandler so does not live in a universe where charming, sexy, funny British boys take him out to dinner.
And yet here they are.
- And oh, shit, Adam's been asking him a question and he's completely just staring into space. Space that is kind of Adam's gorgeous face.
"Whoa, ohmigod, sorry, what were you - wow," he manages. He stuffs another bite of rice in his face to shut himself up.
Adam laughs softly. "I was just trying to ask what you thought of the food."
"Mmm!" says Chandler with his mouth full, and he takes a big sip of water to clear it back out again. "The food is to die for, oh my god. If I ever doubted your expertise all doubts have been assuaged." He lets his smile go a little dirtier. "I just hope it's not making my breath too terrible."
"I think they've got complimentary mints on the way out if you're that concerned," Adam whispers conspiratorily, "but between you and me, I don't think it's going to be an issue."
From where Chandler's sitting, that could all too easily be one of those totally misconstrued sitcom lines - Chandler thinks it means "no worries, because I'd kiss you anyway," Adam thinks it means "there were no kissing plans that could even disrupt" - and even though he knows he's overthinking it, his smile falters just a fraction. He stirs his masala sauce around with his rice and takes another bite, anxious to move the conversation along, still half-expecting this to not even be real.
Oh, it moves so freely and wonderfully, though. Chandler talks about when he first met Kurt, which leads to a couple of flirty, spirited debates about both music and fashion. He also delves into his seedier past, about his weird relationship with his older sister after North Lima High had - correctly - pegged her as a total slut and him as a total homo, and ostracized them both. Adam tries to clear the dark mood with some wacky British private school antics, and he's just so goddamn English that it works, and Chandler's laughing - his real, unattractive laugh, which he swore after Jeremiah to never unleash on a first date again. They stay in the restaurant for hours, lingering over a shared order of mango pudding for dessert.
Adam's been suspiciously mum about his own past with their mutual friend, however, and when he leaves an opportunity wide open for Chandler he can't help but take it.
"So what are all these deep, dark secrets our dear Mr. Hummel has been telling you about me, hmm?" Adam says, pudding spoon loose in his grasp.
Chandler's eyes alight. "well," he murmurs, "apparently you've been lying to me." He's aiming for faux-scathing but, like usual, he must overshoot a little, because Adam's face falls into a little moue of hurt, until - "About singing! You said you were awful at it - " and Adam's laughing sheepishly now - "but Kurt tells me you two first met when you seduced him into joining a show choir group that you founded."
"Now, now, seduced is a very strong word," Adam begins, head down and hand up placatingly.
Chandler interjects. "I think you underestimate how seductive you really are, Mr. Crawford." He takes another bite of what's left of their pudding. "Besides, why would you lie to me about having a talented singing voice? That's such a silly thing to lie about! And I will not allow this relationship to be founded on lies."
(Chandler does not at all miss the way Adam's face brightens and softens at the word "relationship.")
"It's - it's stupid," Adam says, gaze still downcast, running his spoon in circles through the last of the pudding. "It's this dumb thing I do, and I didn't do it when I met Kurt because of the circumstances with the Apples thing - and then for a while I thought, maybe that's why me and Kurt - no. Er, let me start over, not talking about our mutual ex-crush."
"By all means."
"Sometimes when I meet someone, and I'm really - interested, in them," he says, and Chandler's heart flutters nicely, "I don't tell them I can sing, at first. That way if I ever have a chance for a perfectly timed serenade, the whole moment is a little more magical. It started as a, a lack-of-self-confidence thing, but then even once I kind'f grew into myself I just did it force of habit. I told you it was stupid."
"That," Chandler agrees, "is the stupidest, sweetest, most romantic and absurd thing I have ever heard." Adam lifts his head, smiling hopefully, and Chandler just grins. "The kind of people you and I are, serenades get thrown around left and right. Hell, my idiot roommate was just serenading a boy last week for complimenting his thrift-store bolero jacket. I think it's so thoughtful of you to save it for a time when it really counts." Chandler feels himself getting too serious and backpedals into rapport. "So now I absolutely must stick around long enough to get an infamous Adam Crawford serenade all for myself."
"I was...sort of counting on it," Adam says, soft and serious and god he totally missed the rapport memo. But when he's looking right into Chandler's eyes like that, thick and dark and soulful, Chandler can't quite find it in himself to complain.
"Oh, hang on," says Adam, putting his spoon down and reaching over the table, "you've got pudding just..." He swipes his thumb over the left corner of Chandler's mouth to wipe it off.
Chandler is halfway to tilting his head just slightly to suck the pudding off Adam's thumb, and Adam is halfway to letting him, when they both suddenly realize it's happening.
Adam jerks his hand back as if burned and instead looks down at his wristwatch. "My god, we've been here for ages, haven't we?"
"Oh, wow, yeah, I hope we're not keeping them from closing - "
"Let's just see about the bill and then we can - "
"Absolutely."
"Great."
"Fabulous.
They both rise from the table and seek out a staff member. Adam insists on getting all of dinner, but Chandler talks him down to at least letting him pay for the pudding, and they each pop a couple of mints on their way out the door.
"This way," Chandler says, a twinge reluctantly, as he points toward the most convenient subway stop. "I just have to take the Q west - "
"Oh, me too, I just - only as far as First Ave." Adam gives an awkward little chuckle. "I was going to walk you home, but I guess - "
"I can be a gentleman too," Chandler teases, but for the first time all night it falls a little flat.
The train ride is more of same. There's nowhere to sit down - it's that time of night - so Chandler and Adam grab onto the overhead bar and stand close, and Chandler can feel Adam behind him, feel Adam's heat from his arm and his chest seeping into Chandler's shoulderblade like the touch of his thumb glossing against Chandler's mouth. The more the train vibrates the more he starts feeling that they both can feel it, this tense unspoken heat between them, and it makes Chandler want to shatter it because it makes him want to scream.
And he realizes, suddenly, that he's never felt like this before. And it isn't as dramatic as all that, not something serious, but still something altogether new - and Chandler really, really likes it.
He hums a few of Elle's notes from "Serious" and Adam chuckles behind him, the rumble adding heat and sensuality to the tremble of the train and lord, that's hot. "I know, me too." Chandler twists his head to look at him, mildly stunned, beause is he - does Adam really feel - "This close to opening night just about every song is stuck in my head."
Oh. "Yeah." Of course. That.
The train begins to screech to a stop and Adam nods his head toward the doors. "This is me, so, ah."
"Hey, I'm still most definitely walking you up," Chandler says, smiling as best he can through the awkwardness that stubbornly refuses to stop awkwarding all over them. Together they press through the other passengers and disembark, climbing the stairs up to the street slowly and then turning at the corner. Adam holds Chandler's hand again and Chandler can't help swinging them a little as they walk.
Then suddenly they're at Adam's place, a big brick house that's been parceled up into apartments, and Chandler walks up the stoop with him to the door, determined to break the tension even if it kills him.
"I had...an amazing time tonight."
Or, you know, if it brainwashes him into using one of the oldest and most pathetic lines in the book.
Adam takes it all in stride, though. "I could tell," he says - "I've barely seen your phone all night."
"I have been known to livetweet dates," Chandler teases. "But..." He takes both of Adam's hands in both of his, painting them into a rom-com tableau here on Adam's NYC stoop and hey, go big or go home - "But never the really good ones."
"I had a wonderful time too," Adam assures him. His eyes are soft and clear in the low light and he means it, god it's been so long since anyone meant it with Chandler. He wants to remember this moment for ages.
"Although since you mentioned it." He palms at his pocket for his phone, and switches it to camera. "I could stand to commemorate this. Just one, for my personals?"
"I knew you couldn't resist," laughs Adam. Chandler whirls around and poses them for a smiling double-selfie, makes sure his adorable hat doesn't eclipse Adam's adorable smile.
Unfortunately, Chandler is now buried in the hard plane of Adam's chest and their mouths are closer together than they've been all night and so right when the pretend shutter is going Adam kisses him, well and truly kisses him, and the phone clatters to the cement steps below them in Chandler's haste to turn and reciprocate.
If their stage kiss from earlier was a spark, this is an absolute firework, maybe six or seven blasting off at once. Adam's hands curl broad around Chandler's waist just below his ribs, and the warmth they radiate through Chandler's shirt is intoxicating, leaving him even more breathless as he snatches at Adam's shoulders and gasps into his mouth. His tongue between Chandler's lips is firm and confident, so slick and wet and perfect against Chandler's own that he moans, brazenly, right there on the street.
That snaps them back out of it a little. "Are you," Chandler pants, "are you always this forward on the first date?"
"Oh, it's more like a third or fourth date anyway." And Adam dives back against him, trying to keep kissing even as Chandler's crouching down for his phone and Adam's rooting in his pockets for the keys.
They fumble and giggle up to the second floor like teenagers, exploring with hands and mouths as much as they dare without a little privacy. Chandler can't stop his tongue from tracing Adam's teeth, still just as charmingly perfect as Chandler's always thought they were from day one. His digging thumbs are having a similar experience with the tight, hard breadth of Adam's shoulders through his thin plum-colored thermal henley. Adam, meawhile, seems fixated with Chandler's waist, his hips, the small of his back, broad grabby hands constantly in motion, sliding and sliding while his mouth sucks hard and impatient on Chandler's tongue and lips and sometimes his jaw. Adam tastes like sweetness and spice from dinner and it's actually kind of amazing; Chandler can only hope he tastes the same.
By the time it occurs to either of them to stop and come up for air, Chandler's up against the door to Adam's rooms with his elbows bent, arms flat up around his head, one wrist in Adam's grasp while Adam's other hand stays grabby at his waist and Adam's right knee is creeping up to nudge at the bulge in Chandler's pinstripe skinnies and oh, oh. When Adam's mouth pops from his it leaves him dumbfounded, slackjawed, blood rushing in his veins.
"Please don't say no," says Adam, voice low and dangerous against his neck.
"My junk is clean," Chandler blurts, "and my vocab is filthy."
Adam grunts with base need and finally knocks them both back into his place, shoving Chandler's sweater off almost instantly and following immediately with knocking off his hat and twining fingers into Chandler's spiked-messy hair. His grip is strong, strong, it's like Adam's getting more intense and powerful by the minute and Chandler's head is spinning even trying to think about all the limits he might be able to push that to. He hooks his arms tight around Adam's broad back and gives his hips one long, slow, solid roll into Adam's. The teeth of their zippers scratch together where both of them are tenting out hard.
"Get in the bed," Adam growls.
"I will get in anything you want me to," says Chandler, and he hops backward onto the mattress with a bounce, toeing off his shoes and taking in Adam from this new angle. He looms over Chandler now and he looks powerful, hungry. When neither does anything but stare for a minute in the streetlight-dim of the apartment Chandler can't help but steal a hand down to cup himself just once because he is dying here. Adam Crawford is standing over him dripping pure British sex from every blazing-eyed, tight-muscled inch of him, and Chandler is in his bed.
Adam twists down to yank his own shirt off and then climbs over Chandler like a panther, slotting their bodies together puzzle-piece snug and kissing him again with only half the earlier desperation but almost twice the heat. His teeth hang on Chandler's lower lip, sucking and tugging and tasting, and it's like a mallet to the knee the way it makes Chandler's hands jerk up to touch Adam's skin. Without his elbows to brace him he falls flat onto his back, touching at Adam's back, his thick-rounded biceps and shoulders, the thin tantalizing layer of hair across his chest. God, Chandler can't help but whimper at his aura of power and masculinity, and he's suddenly anxious for Adam to not be the only one getting naked.
"You are volcanically hot," he whispers, as Adam's hungry teeth move down to his neck. "I want you all over me, Adam please, touch me, make me come, take me apaa-ha..." Adam's latched on right around the dip where his collarbones meet, one of Chandler's perennial weak spots, and his voice dissolves into nothing but wrecked sobs. Adam is wrecking him.
"Please get naked," Adam says, tugging at the hem of Chandler's scoopneck tee. "And please keep talking." So together they peel off his shirt, and undo Adam's belt, and they split apart just as long as they need to before crawling back together totally nude.
Oh, oh. Oh.
"Your cock oh my god," Chandler gushes. Adam is uncircumcised and possibly bigger than anyone Chandler has ever seen live-in-person and he touches before he can stop himself. "I need this everywhere," he declares, stroking the foreskin up and down and breaking apart at the noise Adam makes, "your cock and your arms and hair and stomach and your cock please please - " and Adam grabs him by the face and smashes a kiss to his mouth to cut him off.
"Tell me what you want," he insists.
"Adam please - "
"I want everything," Adam groans, "so you need to tell me what you want."
Chandler keeps stroking Adam's cock, thumbing the glossy-wet red head of it like he's hypnotized and can't stop. "I want this in me," he says, because god does he ever. "I want it in my mouth but I don't want you to come from it because I need you inside."
Adam pushes up on his knees and encourages Chandler to do the same, and Adam rocks them together so their cocks align, sliding against one another. Chandler makes a noise he doesn't even have a word for, trembling forward, locking his fingers into Adam's so they can stroke their lengths together,
"Tell me," Adam hisses, breath and mouth on Chandler's ear as Chandler stares down at the slide of their cocks. Adam's stands so up, hard and rawly male, and Chandler is transfixed, mouth watering, muscles clenching.
"I want to sit on it," he says, voice barely audible.
"Fuck," says Adam, hips pitching forward.
"I want to sit in your lap and ride you slow and close and dirty, wanna feel every inch of it till you come in me Adam please," Chandler begs, because their grips are slick with their own fluids and the muscles in Chandler's thighs are trembling trying not to fall apart.
Adam fists his spare hand into the sweaty hair at the base of Chandler's skull and tugs, wrenching his neck back to kiss at his throat. That hands slides heavily, almost clumsily down the side of Chandler's neck and collarbone, moving like Adam's pushing through something, until he's thumbing Chandler's nipple and Chandler's eyes are rolling back in his head. Chandler anchors himself on the swell of Adam's bicep, feeling the muscle shift as he keeps up the rhythm of their jerking hands. Their skin is slick with perfect sweat everywhere it's touching, which feels like it's somehow managing to be all of Chandler's most sensitive spots, his throat, his nipple, the crooks of his thighs, the swollen leaking head of his dick.
Adam's pushy hand returns to Chandler's hair, but this time it stays there and this time it does really push, forcing Chandler to bend at the waist as Adam shuffles back on his knees a little. It's an obvious hint, and one that Chandler's been waiting for - he sighs out "mm, yeah" and wets his lips and flops himself down onto his stomach, feet kicking up around the pillows and cock rutting a little into the mattress. Propped on his elbows, he's eye-level with Adam's own long, thick, glistening perfect erection, and when Adam sits down on his heels and drops his knees wider apart to give Chandler room, Chandler grins.
"Thank you so much for giving me this," he teases, making a show of licking his lips and wrapping one hand back to cup solid around one hard-muscled cheek of Adam's ass.
Adam's hand, still tangled in Chandler's bordering-on-gross hair, tugs a little harder. "Thank you for taking it," he murmurs back, with a seductively breathless laugh, and he's hitching his hips forward into Chandler's mouth almost before Chandler's managed to take hold of Adam's cock and aim it between his lips.
Once he does get it between his lips, though, Chandler's so turned on that he almost passes out. Adam's saltier than Chandler was expecting - maybe because of dinner? - and the girth of him with his stretched-back foreskin is so big that Chandler's jaw starts to ache exquisitely almost from the get-go. Truth be told, he almost can't even handle it.
"Oh my god," he moans, pulling off and burying his nose in the hair just above Adam's dick, nuzzling and licking around and petting his thighs and ass. "Adam I can't - " his nose up the crease between Adam's thigh and pelvis - "you're so, it's so - " lapping sloppily at the sides of Adam's shaft - "I've never - "
"Chandler, please," says Adam, but it's starting to sound more like an order than a request, and he shoves Chandler back down, thrusting at his slightly-parted lips. Chandler feels cherished and used all at once and it's molten-hot, and he sucks desperately at Adam's cock, timing the bobs of his head with the little pivots of Adam's hips. The weight and slide of Adam's thickness across his tongue is incredible, and he moans messy around him, humming and slurping and shaking. Adam's letting loose some pretty noises of his own, breathy whines and short aborted syllables - god - yes - so good - as he keeps stuffing the thick fat flesh of his cock down into Chandler's stretched-taut mouth. He tongues a little into the slit and down inside the skin, hollowing his cheeks out and massaging the head between the tongue and the roof of his mouth, pillowed and pliant. Just when he really gets going, left hand kneading the firm muscle of Adam's ass and right hand helping jack Adam intently into his mouth, Adam hisses sharply and yanks his head up.
"Mmm what, you taste so good and you're so big, let me - "
"Sweetheart, if you still want me to fuck you, you're going to have to stop," says Adam, voice thready. Chandler looks up at him, face and chest flushed and a vein throbbing on the side of his neck, muscles tense and strained. Shit, Chandler hadn't even realized he was close. And I did that, he realizes, giddy on his own success. He kicks his feet a little and grins, and Adam smiles blissfully back, letting his grabby hand turn soft, a sweet sweaty stroke down the side of Chandler's face.
Adan wheels his legs out from under him and off the side of the bed, sitting up straight. "C'mere," he says, "let's cool off a bit." He tugs on Chandler's shoulders and Chandler follows, sliding up and across till he's sitting sideways across Adam's lap, Adam's hard wet cock still stiff up against the underside of Chandler's thighs. Adam stretches to grab something from under the pillows and then leans back into Chandler, kissing soft and sweet right on his lips. Chandler throws his arms around Adam's neck and kisses back wholeheartedly, pinpointing the exact moment when Adam tastes himself in Chandler's mouth and grinning into it. They trade hushed, sugary kisses like that for several moments, Chandler playing gently with Adam's hair, and Chandler barely even notices what's going on elsewhere until Adam is stroking one cool, slick finger right at the pucker of his entrance.
"Yeah," Chandler breathes, "oh, yes, inside, please." He tries to spread his legs a little more, but sitting perched in Adam's lap with his warm, taut skin everywhere feels so good, and they manage to make it work. Slowly, firm and insistent but tender, Adam works Chandler's hole open, kissing and cradling the whole time, and Chandler feels entirely cocooned in him, eagerly awaiting each new touch of their skin and sighing gratefully when the touches come. It's downright overwhelming, if Chandler's being honest. No one has ever made him feel like this before.
"Did you mean what you said?" asks Adam, low and dirty like a secret. "About me...coming inside you?"
"I mean what I said when I told you my junk is clean, if that's what you're asking," says Chandler, nipping at Adam's bottom lip. "C'mon," he says, squirming a little, wanting to feel Adam's stiff cock beneath him, "please."
"You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Kiehl."
"Trust me when I say there's a lot in this deal for you."
Adam grins, bites Chandler on the ear, and while Chandler is squawking manages to manhandle him into position until they're back-to-front, Chandler still in Adam's lap but facing outward with Adam's chin hooked over his shoulder and his cock nudging up between Chandler's cheeks, slick and huge as ever.
"Are you ready?" Adam asks, voice soft and courteous even as his hips can't quite sit still. "I know - I've been told I'm a bit -
"Fucking huge?" says Chandler, with a breathless laugh and some grinding of his own. "Please, Adam, I've been waiting for this, please, plea -- oh..."
Adam's hand slips down and lines himself up with Chandler's stretched entrance, and Chandler rocks up and forward a little to give him space to work. And then - "aah" - he's in, and Chandler just keeps sinking down into his lap, letting Adam tug him closer and closer, and just when Chandler thinks he must be all the way inside by now Adam thrusts up and gives him just a little bit more, until Chandler's fully seated on Adam's cock and Adam's panting desperately in his ear.
"Oh my god," moans Chandler.
"Oh my god," Adam agrees.
He's so...full. Adam's solid girth is stretching him wide open but he's clenching down on nothing but firm, white-hot flesh, and he can feel Adam's heartbeat against his back and in the throb of his thick cock inside him. If he shifts even the smallest bit it rubs him everywhere inside, and if he pivots just right, the stretch at his rim burns deliciously and the fat head of Adam's cock gets him -
"Ahh, right there!" Chandler cries.
"Fuck, Chandler - "
He reaches back with his arm to cup Adam's face, twisting his neck so they can kiss, and begins to move, bouncing in the smallest increments, more grinding than anything, just feeling the sweet-hot pressure of Adam against every speck of his inner walls. The pleasure is so smooth-hot-intense that Chandler practically feels like even his soul is getting fucked. Adam thrusts up in time, and they kiss and sweat and slide, each jab punching little sighs and moans out of Chandler into Adam's mouth. God, he always knew he was vocal, but this is so - "ah - "oh!" - he couldn't make himself shut up if he tried.
Adam's thrusts grow sloppy, and Chandler realizes he's losing patience - "let's cool off" is long forgotten. His hands anchor hard on Chandler's hips and he bites a little at the juncture of Chandler's neck and shoulder, and whispers, "I've got to move." That's all the warning Chandler gets: seconds later Adam's pushing up hard on his hips and then yanking back down right in time with his own thrust upward. It drives his cock even deeper up into Chandler, something he hadn't thought was even possible at this point, and he pretty much screams.
"Oh, fuck!" His head drops to his chest as he tries to focus on, like, breathing, making sure the best sex of his life isn't also the last. Adam's hot thrusts shear him open again and again, and he's babbling wordlessly into the top of Chandler's spine but Chandler has plenty to say. "Adam, fuck, fuck me, ram me open, so hard, so huge, unh - stuff me with your big cock, I need it, so deep, please...." Adam behind him takes up a steady stream of Chandlerchandlerchandler.
The new angle and rhythm has Chandler's own neglected dick bouncing stiff in his lap, and he finally grasps it and starts to jerk himself, though he's pretty sure he could come from Adam's hard jabs alone. Each heave from Adam slides Chandler's cock right up through his hand, and he's closer, so close -
"Ah - " Adam chokes out, going stiff and still underneath him, and Chandler feels the hot gush of Adam's come as he's overtaken, hands spasming up to touch every part of Chandler he can reach. Chandler whines, he's so wet and so full, and when Adam's arms wrap around his chest, hips still making tiny little pivots as he rides out his aftershocks, his softening cock sloshing his come around inside of Chandler, Chandler finally gets there too.
"Adam," he wails, seizing up a little and hunching forward, and Adam strokes his back as he shoots out onto the carpet, some of it landing on his own pants. He doesn't care; he barely even notices. All he's seeing right now is stars.
Adam guides them back and sideways till they're lying across the bed, curled up together with Adam spooned behind Chandler, cock still inside. He pulls out slowly and Chandler feels some of his come leak out too, hears Adam murmuring, "We seem to have made a bit of a mess."
But Chandler's just had the best sex of his life, so he thinks he's entitled to totally pass out after.
-xxx-
Chandler has the same reaction he always does upon first waking up, which is to find his glasses and check his phone. But when he gropes around for both under the pillows, he can't find either, and that's when he begins to realize and remember - this isn't his high-ratcheted dorm bed. His glasses are thankfully on a nearby table; his phone is probably wherever his pants are, which is not on him at all. Because he's naked.
The person he got naked with is not in the bed, and Chandler sits up a little, feeling the soreness in his ass and smiling just a little bit in satisfaction. "Adam?" he calls softly. His voice isn't up to much more - ooh, shit. Their show opens in four days and he's shot his voice screaming during sex. There is no way to explain that to Jesse.
Adam seems to be a step ahead of him, though, because as he's slinking to the floor in search of his phone/pants, he's re-entering from the other room. "Good morning, sweetheart," he says, smiling amusedly. (Good morning is right - Chandler finds his phone and the display reads 3:37. That's what he gets for zonking out at nine-fifteen.) Adam's carrying two glasses of something that smells great, and he passes one to Chandler. "I made some juice, I'm glad that didn't wake you."
"You made some juice," Chandler repeats, blinking at the cup. "Of course. Just casually..."
"I hit the kitchen when I can't sleep," says Adam, his smile turning a little bashful. He takes a sip from his and Chandler follows suit - and moans. It's cool and fruity on his throat, apple and banana and a couple hints of some other things he doesn't usually associate with juice - is that cucumber?
"What's in this?" he says. "And why wasn't I guzzling it down during that miserable allergy attack?"
"I believe that was when we were too busy aggressively flirting with one another to actually do anything about it."
"Touché."
"Apple, banana, a little coconut milk for consistency," he continues. "Some cucumber and a bit of aloe, for the throat."
"A true apothecary."
They're quiet for a moment, bordering on awkward, while they keep drinking and Chandler tries to gather all his clothes (he shoves his hat back on to mask his totally disgusting hair). He's suddenly aware that Adam's at least got boxers on and he's still totally naked; Adam holds his cup while he tugs on his own briefs.
"Do you have like," asks Chandler. "Sloppy jeans? Yoga pants? The comfiest thing you can loan me."
"Sore?" asks Adam, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
"Deliciously," says Chandler. Adam sets both cups on the bedside table and brings back a pair of faded maroon jeans from his dresser. Chandler's waist is a bit narrower but Adam's got way less of a butt, so once he rolls the ankles a couple of times they work just fine.
Unfortunately, the awkwardness descends once more. It's bumming Chandler out because he doesn't want this to be awkward. The fact that it's awkward makes it feel like a one-night stand, which is the last thing he wants this to be. He'd actually really like for them to be boyfriends. (Even thinking about it brings a little smile to his face, and he has to hide it in his juice.) But they just fell through the door last night already on each other. Chandler didn't even see any of the rest of the apartment.
Well.
"So can I see where the juice magic happens?" he says softly, gesturing a little with his cup.
"Oh! Of course," says Adam. "Though I fear it'll ruin the illusion a bit." He stands, and offers his free hand to Chandler, who takes it, and lets himself be guided out of the bedroom and back into the main space.
The first thing he notices is how much space it actually is, even just for a room and a half (there's a great walk-in closet that casual-dark-tones Adam is squandering).
"Roomy," he says.
"Yeah, it's felt a bit excessive ever since Moira died. My dog," Adam elaborates. "This goofy terrier mutt I got when I went through my first bad breakup. Dumb as a post, poor dear, but lively enough to need the space, even though she was already old when I got her."
Chandler's heart melts, just a little. "You miss her."
"She was a good dog."
The second thing is the "kitchen." It's a free-standing island on wheels, a little bit off-center from the middle of the room, with a plastic mat under it like they use for wheeled chairs in big offices. Crammed on the island are tons of miscellaneous appliances - juicer, blender, George Foreman, toaster oven, waffle maker. The cabinet in the island's base is completely occupied by a dark blue mini-fridge.
"They encourage us to use the large communal kitchen on the ground floor," Adam says, "but you'll understand if I find that a bit...inconvenient. It's hard to make juice for your boyfriend if you have to go all the way downstairs."
Chandler grins. "For your boyfriend?"
"Just, you know," says Adam, smiling back. "A hypothetical."
He kisses him, a sweet straight-on smush of lips, and Chandler can taste the juice on both of them, feel them both smiling. He knows he should say something cute, ask about the juice more or make a science joke on the word "hypothetical," and he hates himself for what he says instead.
"I think I should go."
Adam's face falls. "What? Why?"
Chandler frowns. "I have class first thing in the morning - it's in like five hours, I can't afford to miss it. Plus, I'm on thin enough ice with my dumbass roommate as it is, he'll kill me if I'm out all night with no warning."
"What is he, your mother?"
"He's a snitch and a gossip and a whiny baby, he's the worst." Chandler holds both of Adam's hands in his. "Thank you so much, so much. For the juice, and for dinner, and for cleaning me up while I was sleeping - "
"Oh, good, I was worried that was creepy."
"I can't wait to do it again, and stay the whole night, next time."
That seems to appease Adam. "Next time."
They kiss again, and Chandler ducks back into the bedroom for his phone and the rest of his clothes. Then they kiss again, and he heads back out, and back to NYU.
Even the wrath of Gavroche can't spoil tonight.
-xxx-
Opening night goes pretty well. It's a good thing it does, too, because final dress is a fucking disaster.
For starters, none of the stage hands have any idea where the set pieces actually go at any given time. It's not even all that complicated - a couple of free-standing doors and three or four half-rooms on wheels, plus the flat that's Dewey's trailer - but even with the spike-tape it's all over the place. Beatrice is dealing well, but Jesse's about to blow a gasket.
Or, well, not even "about to."
"HOLD!" he yells for the fifteenth time. "Drake! If these baboons cannot get the set right I swear to god - "
"Should we...help them?" Adam whispers to Chandler, where they're watching from the wings.
"It's not our job," says Chandler. "And if we do it even once, it's going to become our job, which I would honestly prefer to avoid."
"Touché."
The word flashes Chandler back to Sunday night at Adam's place and his heart clenches. Between school, work, and crazy tech-week rehearsals, they haven't had a minute alone together since then and it's making Chandler a little anxious. Didn't Adam want them to be boyfriends? Why aren't they being so boyfriendy any more?
"The thing about Adam," says Kurt, when Chandler asks him as much, "is that he likes to make 'Big Gestures.'" They're hiding out downstairs in the costume basement to give Ellie space - a featured "beach bunny" dancer in What You want, she's thrown her knee out bad enough to need an ambulance. "He's probably lying low right now so he won't give away some silly spectacle he's got planned for later."
"Are you sure?" Chandler's still frowning. "I'm just so - I haven't done boyfriends since high school, I don't want this to move too fast for him - if I'm scaring him off - I mean, we jumped in bed on our first date, and I didn't even stay the night - "
"Relax," Kurt insists, patting him hard on the knee. "And if things stay weird, talk to him. Believe me, if I've learned anything from my relationship with Blaine and its fabulous ups and horrible downs, it's that nothing is a substitute for communication."
Chandler smiles wryly at him. "Was I one of the aforementioned downs?"
"Not a horrible one," Kurt says, his own voice teasing a little too. "We just shouted some Whitney Houston songs at each other and promised to make out more often."
"Would that all relationship fights were that easy!"
Jesse's calling for places - they're going to keep rolling without Ellie, on into Harvard Variations, and Chandler should probably find Adam again. But the thing is, Chandler can't talk to Adam. He may be able to flirt and tease with the ballsiest of them, but when it comes to any kind of serious discussion, his inexperience turns him into a huge chicken. Plus, there's still the lurking reason behind the talk in the first place - what if it's not serious? What if Adam just wants to be casual, sex-and-dinner boyfriends and Chandler's making it all into a way bigger deal than it actually is?
Chandler tries not to think about the little part of him that thinks he would be really, really hurt if that's all that Adam wants. He tries instead to focus on his upcoming song, making sure his voice is warmed up and ready for whichever half of his split identity will be making an appearance tonight.
(It's Chuck. But the first thing out of Jesse's mouth in notes is "Carlos!", and from across the stage Adam just rolls his eyes at Chandler, and smiles.)
-xxx-
from Adam-Nikos: Have you seen the playbills yet?
to Adam-Nikos: no?? omg
from Adam-Nikos:
There's a photo of the H thru N page of the program attached, and when Chandler zooms in on his own bio he sees what Adam's getting at: they have him listed as Chandler J. Kiehl (Chuck).
from Adam-Nikos: There it is in black and white!
to Adam-Nikos: see i have not begun 2 fight!! thank god. screw wat st. james says, lets just do chuck every night
from Adam-Nikos: Your Spanish accent is pretty awful.
He laughs, because it's true, and mostly out of relief. Opening night will have been the end of Carlos. Chuck lives on.
-xxx-
Adam Crawford (Nikos/Frat Boy) is a 2013 graduate of the New York Academy of Dramatic Arts who is excited to be involved in such a fun and energetic production. Other than the stage, his one true passion is food, and he'd like to dedicate his performance to dinner dates everywhere, and to Moira, his own personal Rufus. RIP.
...
Kurt Hummel (Costume Director) is a NYADA sophomore and true devotee of the theatre arts. A proud high school show choir national champion (2012), he is currently employed at Vogue.com and can also be found making fashion waves at hirehummel.net. Love always to Dad and to BDA, his eternal teenage dream. Go Titans!
...
Chandler J. Kiehl (Chuck) currently attends NYU for theatre and film performance. He graduated with honors from North Lima High in Lima, OH and then left for NYC on the next bus! Favorite past performances include Seymour in Little Shop of Horrors and one of the "Barricade Boys" in Les Mis. Follow him everywhere!: twitter.com/iGottaKiehling, facebook.com/mtkiehlimanjaro, videokiehledtheradiostar.tumblr.com
...
Santana Lopez (Enid/Choreographer) hates everyone in the whole show, but she loves them anyway. Except for Jesse, whom she mostly just hates. See her Tue/Thur/Sat nights at Monsoon on 35th (no touching, that's extra). P.S. she really is a lesbian and will be accepting phone numbers after every show. No uglies need apply.
...
Sugar Grace Motta (Chutney/Beach Bunny) is so excited to be onstage with her Auntie Tana for the first time since Grease in high school! Sugar is studying dance and physical therapy with a focus on performance injuries. Nothing in act II is her real hair!!! www.sugargraceblingbling.com
...
Jesse st. James (Director/Emmett) is proud to continue his directorial experience with his first New York production, after having several times led Carmel High's Vocal Adrenaline to successful show choir national championships. Other credits include but are not limited to local and Off-Broadway productions of Assassins (Lee Harvey Oswald), Rent (Roger) and Anything Goes (Billy Crocker). Deep inside, Jesse is merely a humble performer with a desire to share great art with the world. Do not let his immense talent and rakish good looks deceive you, for he is a simple man who strives to convey truth through the purity of his work. Please enjoy Legally Blonde: the Musical as an extension of this passion.
-xxx-
Saturday night is their third performance, and the first one they manage a sold-out crowd for. Kurt and his fiance are in the audience, as well as their friend Rachel and a couple of friends Adam and Kurt know from their NYADA show choir. Gavroche, whom Chandler invited just to be polite after their mini-tiff when he snuck back in last weekend, is unsurprisingly absent.
"I never meant to hurt my father!" yells Sugar/Chutney. "I THOUGHT IT WAS BROOKE COMING THROUGH THE DOOR!" She gasps at herself, followed by everyone else in the bathroom and all the morons in the audience who've never seen the movie. The first notes of the "OMG" finale kick in and Chandler finally makes himself peel his mouth away from where he and Adam have been sucking face pretty much since they started kissing in character onstage. (Chandler's doubts about his intentions have pretty much been wiped away by now.)
"We should probably - mnh - probably get into position for curtain call soon," he says, though not with very much conviction.
"We've got ages," says Adam, still nuzzling at his jaw. "Mmm, Chuck - "
Chandler laughs and kisses him one more time before pushing back and putting some distance between them. "I'm serious. The set pieces for the bathroom are coming off, we're going to have to climb through them."
Adam gives a jokey pout, but relents, smoothing out the front of Chandler's shirt where he's rumpled it. His touch against Chandler's chest still thrills him, is still new and sweet enough. "Are you still planning on going out with the lot of them after the show tonight?"
"I am if you are," says Chandler. "I warned that brat Gavroche and everything."
"Good." Adam says it a little more forcefully than Chandler thinks is normal, and he's not sure what to make of it, but then Paulette is already finished with her bit and Elle's about to propose to Emmett and they really do have to get into position now. They collect Chutney along the way, and the rest of their row when the closing number is over, and when they all dash out behind the Delta Nu ensemble and ahead of Elle's parents and Harvard admissions, Kurt's little group gives them a standing ovation.
Yeah, maybe this show's turned out okay after all.
Chandler heads out to greet his adoring public with his head held high - the audience tonight was definitely better than the previous two, and he always gets a huge crowd reaction when he pops out from the house for his number rather than just entering onstage. He gets a couple of crazy, over-the-top compliment gushers, sees two or three girls he knows from school, and has exactly one guy ask for his number, to which he simply says "No thank you," and searches for Adam's hand beside him with his own. Kurt and company exit at the back of the pack, after most everyone else has finally cleared out, and Chandler's anxious to join up with them to finalize their plans for the night when suddenly he notices Rachel acting even more...squirrely than usual. Sure enough, as soon as she and Jesse lay eyes on each other, a veritable glitterbomb of awkward detonates and douses all the rest of them in gold sparkles.
"No," Kurt says before Jesse's in hearing distance, as if Rachel is a dog. "He is not invited tonight, and neither are you if you try anything."
"I just want to catch up!" she insists. "And Shelby is here, come on, Kurt," but he's having none of it, and meanwhile the awkward continues.
"Chandler!" yelps Blaine desperately. "What a great job tonight, I had no idea you had that voice in you!"
"He is quite impressive," Adam cuts in smoothly. "Shame you're not a NYADA boy or we'd have you for the Apples." His Apple friends - they've been introduced as Steffie and J.R. - laugh in agreement.
"Ugh, show choir?" says Chandler. "No offense, but I'd rather die." He knows exactly how unpopular that opinion is with this crowd and loves the ridiculous reactions the statement gets. Even Santana, Liz and Sugar have merged into their blob now and give cries of mock outrage. It looks like this party is really going to start.
"We still on for my club at eleven?" Santana asks, pointing her finger from person to person for confirmation. Everyone answers affirmative, even Rachel, and with some more laughs and praise and little half-conversations, they disperse so the one half of them can change out of costume and back into their street clothes.
In the men's dressing room, away from too many other eyes, Adam yanks Chandler back into his chest for one more lush, longing kiss.
"Unfinished business," he says simply, and winks at Chandler as he starts to strip out of his shirt.
-xxx-
They all hop on the subway together already a little out of control. Chandler feels giddy from the rush of a successful performance combined with the excitement of a night out with friends, and Sugar on his right seems much the same; the enthusiasm is catching, and everyone's energy ping-pongs off one another, building and building. The other passengers are quickly sick of them.
"So Tana's lying there with her wrists still tied to the bed, right, like all spread out, ready to go - "
"Like I'm just waitin' for it at this point, like, Lizzy, come on."
"And I go to swing the paddle and before it even touches her it just goes fyoom!" Liz gestures and nearly hits J.R. in the face, and everyone laughs at his startled expression. "The head of it just flies straight off! I mean like, across the room."
"But I can't see her so I have no idea what's going on! I think, like, she's broken something, and I go 'Liz! Liz!'"
"Like freaking out at me because I'm just staring dumbfounded at the broken paddle, like, did that for real just happen, but she's like - "
"I'm like 'Liz, oh my god, Liz?!'"
"And the old - " Liz can barely talk for laughing by this point, and Chandler's not especially entertained by their lesbian sexcapades but he kind of needs to hear the punchline now - "the old man in the next apartment - "
"He bangs on the wall - "
"He bangs on the wall and goes 'God damnit, Lester, ain't you finished 'er yet?'"
"Like I was saying 'Les'!" Santana's cackling now, too. Other people are laughing a little as well, but Chandler glances over at Adam on his left, and Kurt and Blaine standing over past him, and no one is really laughing all that much.
Santana finally catches her breath and scowls. "Oh whatever, losers."
"Guess you had to be there," Liz shrugs.
"Invitation respectfully declined," says Kurt, a great totally-judging-you look cast in their direction.
They fall into a couple of little group conversations after that, continuing on toward Monsoon; Adam's engaged Kurt and Blaine in a little discussion of how the Apples are doing since his and Steffie's departure (holding Chandler's hand all the while, though, and sweeping his thumb in a smooth sweet stroke across Chandler's skin), so Chandler falls into a chat with Sugar.
"I'm not sure I know how you connect in this big mess," he says. "High school? Are we really all from Ohio?"
"Yeah!" says Sugar, smiling big. "We were in glee club together. Well, at first I hated glee club because they tried to tell me I couldn't sing which is one hundred percent not true, so me and Santana started our own glee club, but then it wasn't any fun because everyone hated us and there were no boys so we switched back. Well, I guess Santana didn't care about the no boys part."
"I guess not," agrees Chandler.
"Then we all went to nationals together and won!"
"Because of my outstanding solo, might I add," Rachel interjects.
"Rachel, when you have like eight solos a week they stop being outstanding," says Kurt, rolling his eyes, "because the very definition of the word is something that stands out."
"Yeah, Raych, Kurt and Tana and I should get all the solos instead," says Sugar.
"Good girl," laughs Santana, and as they fall into high school bickering again, Chandler just shakes his head, and leans back into Adam at his side, warm bodies pressed close.
"You're awfully quiet tonight," says Adam, knocking Chandler's shoulder with his own. "Something wrong?"
Chandler dares to let himself be a little bit honest. "Maybe?" He picks a little at the upholstery of his seat. "I don't even know, I guess I'm just zonked from the show. Maybe I need some food or something."
"We'll get some at Monsoon," Adam promises, "save your energy." But he looks sweetly, so sweetly right into Chandler's eyes, and then kisses him on the cheek, and Chandler's stomach gives a bonkers little twist and it is so not exhaustion or hunger.
It's a boy. It usually is.
"Hey, bitches, this is us!" shouts Santana, cutting through the chatter, and when their train halts at a station they all finally crowd off in a big, messy pile (Chandler swears he hears an old hispanic woman breath out a profanity and a sigh of relief as they leave). The walk is only a couple of blocks after that, and though it looks pretty much just how Chandler expected from the outside - blue neon sign, blacked-out windows, sketchy alley full of trashbags down the lefthand side - the interior is a pleasant surprise.
Yeah, okay, the back-left corner is a little platform with big cages on either side and a short catwalk-runway down the middle with a pole at the end. But the back-right corner has a much more traditional stage, with even a tiny upright piano wedged onto it, and the bar along the wall looks respectable, the lighting not too shady or too red. And the best part is, there are no skeezy patrons crowding the tables and booths between - the Legally Blonde party of ten are the only people here.
"Don't look so shocked," Santana says, scowling. "We only do the dirty stuff four nights a week."
"Where is everyone?" asks Blaine.
"I bought the place out!" says Sugar. "Just for tonight," she adds when she gets a few stares, Chandler's included. "Daddy didn't mind."
"Who are you people," he murmurs.
"Ernesto!" Santana's leaning over the bar, hollering toward a door that must lead to some back room or kitchen. "Ernesto! Estamos aquí! Vamos a empezar la fiesta!" Whoever Ernesto is, he shouts back in some more muffled spanish, and apparently Santana doesn't like his answer - she vaults over the bar, digs around underneath it for a second, and must find what she's looking for because loud, fun music suddenly blares from the in-house sound system.
"All right, children, get your party panties on!"
-xxx-
( part 3)
"How did you know I love Indian food?" Chandler squeals, when Adam guides him to a hole-in-the-wall a couple steps below street level, holding the door open for him like a gentleman and everything. You almost can't see the place from the sidewalk, which in Chandler's experience means everything will be extra-delicious, and he's already getting way too excited.
"Lucky guess," says Adam. The waiter offers "two" with his fingers and they nod, and follow him to a table. "And I dunno, I suppose I was in the mood for something a bit spicy."
He flashes Chandler a wicked smile and Chandler returns it, even as his heart is skipping a beat. "Ooh la la, Mr. Crawford, don't make promises you don't intend to keep."
"I wouldn't dream of it," says Adam, and his voice is much more serious than expected and Chandler could just dance, yes yes yes.
"So what's best here? You're the expert." He leans in over the table to share a menu with Adam, crowding as close as he can. Adam points out a couple of different options and Chandler hangs on every word, eventually going with his standby favorite of chicken tikka masala. Adam gets the mattar paneer extra hot, and some naan for them to share. His foot comes to rest against Chandler's calf just above his ankle, and Chandler totally lets it.
All in all, it feels more like a third or fourth date than a first one, and Chandler's starting to find that he's got zero problem with that. It's been ages since he's been afforded the opportunity to grow so comfortable with someone, so familiar after so many hours spent together over the past few weeks. He's not used to this - not used to being wanted, being wooed with flirty Facebook chats and what is basically the most amazing Indian food he's ever had. Most guys spend two hours with him and decide he's really annoying. His own roommate thinks he's annoying, and they barely do more than sleep in the same room. Chandler so does not live in a universe where charming, sexy, funny British boys take him out to dinner.
And yet here they are.
- And oh, shit, Adam's been asking him a question and he's completely just staring into space. Space that is kind of Adam's gorgeous face.
"Whoa, ohmigod, sorry, what were you - wow," he manages. He stuffs another bite of rice in his face to shut himself up.
Adam laughs softly. "I was just trying to ask what you thought of the food."
"Mmm!" says Chandler with his mouth full, and he takes a big sip of water to clear it back out again. "The food is to die for, oh my god. If I ever doubted your expertise all doubts have been assuaged." He lets his smile go a little dirtier. "I just hope it's not making my breath too terrible."
"I think they've got complimentary mints on the way out if you're that concerned," Adam whispers conspiratorily, "but between you and me, I don't think it's going to be an issue."
From where Chandler's sitting, that could all too easily be one of those totally misconstrued sitcom lines - Chandler thinks it means "no worries, because I'd kiss you anyway," Adam thinks it means "there were no kissing plans that could even disrupt" - and even though he knows he's overthinking it, his smile falters just a fraction. He stirs his masala sauce around with his rice and takes another bite, anxious to move the conversation along, still half-expecting this to not even be real.
Oh, it moves so freely and wonderfully, though. Chandler talks about when he first met Kurt, which leads to a couple of flirty, spirited debates about both music and fashion. He also delves into his seedier past, about his weird relationship with his older sister after North Lima High had - correctly - pegged her as a total slut and him as a total homo, and ostracized them both. Adam tries to clear the dark mood with some wacky British private school antics, and he's just so goddamn English that it works, and Chandler's laughing - his real, unattractive laugh, which he swore after Jeremiah to never unleash on a first date again. They stay in the restaurant for hours, lingering over a shared order of mango pudding for dessert.
Adam's been suspiciously mum about his own past with their mutual friend, however, and when he leaves an opportunity wide open for Chandler he can't help but take it.
"So what are all these deep, dark secrets our dear Mr. Hummel has been telling you about me, hmm?" Adam says, pudding spoon loose in his grasp.
Chandler's eyes alight. "well," he murmurs, "apparently you've been lying to me." He's aiming for faux-scathing but, like usual, he must overshoot a little, because Adam's face falls into a little moue of hurt, until - "About singing! You said you were awful at it - " and Adam's laughing sheepishly now - "but Kurt tells me you two first met when you seduced him into joining a show choir group that you founded."
"Now, now, seduced is a very strong word," Adam begins, head down and hand up placatingly.
Chandler interjects. "I think you underestimate how seductive you really are, Mr. Crawford." He takes another bite of what's left of their pudding. "Besides, why would you lie to me about having a talented singing voice? That's such a silly thing to lie about! And I will not allow this relationship to be founded on lies."
(Chandler does not at all miss the way Adam's face brightens and softens at the word "relationship.")
"It's - it's stupid," Adam says, gaze still downcast, running his spoon in circles through the last of the pudding. "It's this dumb thing I do, and I didn't do it when I met Kurt because of the circumstances with the Apples thing - and then for a while I thought, maybe that's why me and Kurt - no. Er, let me start over, not talking about our mutual ex-crush."
"By all means."
"Sometimes when I meet someone, and I'm really - interested, in them," he says, and Chandler's heart flutters nicely, "I don't tell them I can sing, at first. That way if I ever have a chance for a perfectly timed serenade, the whole moment is a little more magical. It started as a, a lack-of-self-confidence thing, but then even once I kind'f grew into myself I just did it force of habit. I told you it was stupid."
"That," Chandler agrees, "is the stupidest, sweetest, most romantic and absurd thing I have ever heard." Adam lifts his head, smiling hopefully, and Chandler just grins. "The kind of people you and I are, serenades get thrown around left and right. Hell, my idiot roommate was just serenading a boy last week for complimenting his thrift-store bolero jacket. I think it's so thoughtful of you to save it for a time when it really counts." Chandler feels himself getting too serious and backpedals into rapport. "So now I absolutely must stick around long enough to get an infamous Adam Crawford serenade all for myself."
"I was...sort of counting on it," Adam says, soft and serious and god he totally missed the rapport memo. But when he's looking right into Chandler's eyes like that, thick and dark and soulful, Chandler can't quite find it in himself to complain.
"Oh, hang on," says Adam, putting his spoon down and reaching over the table, "you've got pudding just..." He swipes his thumb over the left corner of Chandler's mouth to wipe it off.
Chandler is halfway to tilting his head just slightly to suck the pudding off Adam's thumb, and Adam is halfway to letting him, when they both suddenly realize it's happening.
Adam jerks his hand back as if burned and instead looks down at his wristwatch. "My god, we've been here for ages, haven't we?"
"Oh, wow, yeah, I hope we're not keeping them from closing - "
"Let's just see about the bill and then we can - "
"Absolutely."
"Great."
"Fabulous.
They both rise from the table and seek out a staff member. Adam insists on getting all of dinner, but Chandler talks him down to at least letting him pay for the pudding, and they each pop a couple of mints on their way out the door.
"This way," Chandler says, a twinge reluctantly, as he points toward the most convenient subway stop. "I just have to take the Q west - "
"Oh, me too, I just - only as far as First Ave." Adam gives an awkward little chuckle. "I was going to walk you home, but I guess - "
"I can be a gentleman too," Chandler teases, but for the first time all night it falls a little flat.
The train ride is more of same. There's nowhere to sit down - it's that time of night - so Chandler and Adam grab onto the overhead bar and stand close, and Chandler can feel Adam behind him, feel Adam's heat from his arm and his chest seeping into Chandler's shoulderblade like the touch of his thumb glossing against Chandler's mouth. The more the train vibrates the more he starts feeling that they both can feel it, this tense unspoken heat between them, and it makes Chandler want to shatter it because it makes him want to scream.
And he realizes, suddenly, that he's never felt like this before. And it isn't as dramatic as all that, not something serious, but still something altogether new - and Chandler really, really likes it.
He hums a few of Elle's notes from "Serious" and Adam chuckles behind him, the rumble adding heat and sensuality to the tremble of the train and lord, that's hot. "I know, me too." Chandler twists his head to look at him, mildly stunned, beause is he - does Adam really feel - "This close to opening night just about every song is stuck in my head."
Oh. "Yeah." Of course. That.
The train begins to screech to a stop and Adam nods his head toward the doors. "This is me, so, ah."
"Hey, I'm still most definitely walking you up," Chandler says, smiling as best he can through the awkwardness that stubbornly refuses to stop awkwarding all over them. Together they press through the other passengers and disembark, climbing the stairs up to the street slowly and then turning at the corner. Adam holds Chandler's hand again and Chandler can't help swinging them a little as they walk.
Then suddenly they're at Adam's place, a big brick house that's been parceled up into apartments, and Chandler walks up the stoop with him to the door, determined to break the tension even if it kills him.
"I had...an amazing time tonight."
Or, you know, if it brainwashes him into using one of the oldest and most pathetic lines in the book.
Adam takes it all in stride, though. "I could tell," he says - "I've barely seen your phone all night."
"I have been known to livetweet dates," Chandler teases. "But..." He takes both of Adam's hands in both of his, painting them into a rom-com tableau here on Adam's NYC stoop and hey, go big or go home - "But never the really good ones."
"I had a wonderful time too," Adam assures him. His eyes are soft and clear in the low light and he means it, god it's been so long since anyone meant it with Chandler. He wants to remember this moment for ages.
"Although since you mentioned it." He palms at his pocket for his phone, and switches it to camera. "I could stand to commemorate this. Just one, for my personals?"
"I knew you couldn't resist," laughs Adam. Chandler whirls around and poses them for a smiling double-selfie, makes sure his adorable hat doesn't eclipse Adam's adorable smile.
Unfortunately, Chandler is now buried in the hard plane of Adam's chest and their mouths are closer together than they've been all night and so right when the pretend shutter is going Adam kisses him, well and truly kisses him, and the phone clatters to the cement steps below them in Chandler's haste to turn and reciprocate.
If their stage kiss from earlier was a spark, this is an absolute firework, maybe six or seven blasting off at once. Adam's hands curl broad around Chandler's waist just below his ribs, and the warmth they radiate through Chandler's shirt is intoxicating, leaving him even more breathless as he snatches at Adam's shoulders and gasps into his mouth. His tongue between Chandler's lips is firm and confident, so slick and wet and perfect against Chandler's own that he moans, brazenly, right there on the street.
That snaps them back out of it a little. "Are you," Chandler pants, "are you always this forward on the first date?"
"Oh, it's more like a third or fourth date anyway." And Adam dives back against him, trying to keep kissing even as Chandler's crouching down for his phone and Adam's rooting in his pockets for the keys.
They fumble and giggle up to the second floor like teenagers, exploring with hands and mouths as much as they dare without a little privacy. Chandler can't stop his tongue from tracing Adam's teeth, still just as charmingly perfect as Chandler's always thought they were from day one. His digging thumbs are having a similar experience with the tight, hard breadth of Adam's shoulders through his thin plum-colored thermal henley. Adam, meawhile, seems fixated with Chandler's waist, his hips, the small of his back, broad grabby hands constantly in motion, sliding and sliding while his mouth sucks hard and impatient on Chandler's tongue and lips and sometimes his jaw. Adam tastes like sweetness and spice from dinner and it's actually kind of amazing; Chandler can only hope he tastes the same.
By the time it occurs to either of them to stop and come up for air, Chandler's up against the door to Adam's rooms with his elbows bent, arms flat up around his head, one wrist in Adam's grasp while Adam's other hand stays grabby at his waist and Adam's right knee is creeping up to nudge at the bulge in Chandler's pinstripe skinnies and oh, oh. When Adam's mouth pops from his it leaves him dumbfounded, slackjawed, blood rushing in his veins.
"Please don't say no," says Adam, voice low and dangerous against his neck.
"My junk is clean," Chandler blurts, "and my vocab is filthy."
Adam grunts with base need and finally knocks them both back into his place, shoving Chandler's sweater off almost instantly and following immediately with knocking off his hat and twining fingers into Chandler's spiked-messy hair. His grip is strong, strong, it's like Adam's getting more intense and powerful by the minute and Chandler's head is spinning even trying to think about all the limits he might be able to push that to. He hooks his arms tight around Adam's broad back and gives his hips one long, slow, solid roll into Adam's. The teeth of their zippers scratch together where both of them are tenting out hard.
"Get in the bed," Adam growls.
"I will get in anything you want me to," says Chandler, and he hops backward onto the mattress with a bounce, toeing off his shoes and taking in Adam from this new angle. He looms over Chandler now and he looks powerful, hungry. When neither does anything but stare for a minute in the streetlight-dim of the apartment Chandler can't help but steal a hand down to cup himself just once because he is dying here. Adam Crawford is standing over him dripping pure British sex from every blazing-eyed, tight-muscled inch of him, and Chandler is in his bed.
Adam twists down to yank his own shirt off and then climbs over Chandler like a panther, slotting their bodies together puzzle-piece snug and kissing him again with only half the earlier desperation but almost twice the heat. His teeth hang on Chandler's lower lip, sucking and tugging and tasting, and it's like a mallet to the knee the way it makes Chandler's hands jerk up to touch Adam's skin. Without his elbows to brace him he falls flat onto his back, touching at Adam's back, his thick-rounded biceps and shoulders, the thin tantalizing layer of hair across his chest. God, Chandler can't help but whimper at his aura of power and masculinity, and he's suddenly anxious for Adam to not be the only one getting naked.
"You are volcanically hot," he whispers, as Adam's hungry teeth move down to his neck. "I want you all over me, Adam please, touch me, make me come, take me apaa-ha..." Adam's latched on right around the dip where his collarbones meet, one of Chandler's perennial weak spots, and his voice dissolves into nothing but wrecked sobs. Adam is wrecking him.
"Please get naked," Adam says, tugging at the hem of Chandler's scoopneck tee. "And please keep talking." So together they peel off his shirt, and undo Adam's belt, and they split apart just as long as they need to before crawling back together totally nude.
Oh, oh. Oh.
"Your cock oh my god," Chandler gushes. Adam is uncircumcised and possibly bigger than anyone Chandler has ever seen live-in-person and he touches before he can stop himself. "I need this everywhere," he declares, stroking the foreskin up and down and breaking apart at the noise Adam makes, "your cock and your arms and hair and stomach and your cock please please - " and Adam grabs him by the face and smashes a kiss to his mouth to cut him off.
"Tell me what you want," he insists.
"Adam please - "
"I want everything," Adam groans, "so you need to tell me what you want."
Chandler keeps stroking Adam's cock, thumbing the glossy-wet red head of it like he's hypnotized and can't stop. "I want this in me," he says, because god does he ever. "I want it in my mouth but I don't want you to come from it because I need you inside."
Adam pushes up on his knees and encourages Chandler to do the same, and Adam rocks them together so their cocks align, sliding against one another. Chandler makes a noise he doesn't even have a word for, trembling forward, locking his fingers into Adam's so they can stroke their lengths together,
"Tell me," Adam hisses, breath and mouth on Chandler's ear as Chandler stares down at the slide of their cocks. Adam's stands so up, hard and rawly male, and Chandler is transfixed, mouth watering, muscles clenching.
"I want to sit on it," he says, voice barely audible.
"Fuck," says Adam, hips pitching forward.
"I want to sit in your lap and ride you slow and close and dirty, wanna feel every inch of it till you come in me Adam please," Chandler begs, because their grips are slick with their own fluids and the muscles in Chandler's thighs are trembling trying not to fall apart.
Adam fists his spare hand into the sweaty hair at the base of Chandler's skull and tugs, wrenching his neck back to kiss at his throat. That hands slides heavily, almost clumsily down the side of Chandler's neck and collarbone, moving like Adam's pushing through something, until he's thumbing Chandler's nipple and Chandler's eyes are rolling back in his head. Chandler anchors himself on the swell of Adam's bicep, feeling the muscle shift as he keeps up the rhythm of their jerking hands. Their skin is slick with perfect sweat everywhere it's touching, which feels like it's somehow managing to be all of Chandler's most sensitive spots, his throat, his nipple, the crooks of his thighs, the swollen leaking head of his dick.
Adam's pushy hand returns to Chandler's hair, but this time it stays there and this time it does really push, forcing Chandler to bend at the waist as Adam shuffles back on his knees a little. It's an obvious hint, and one that Chandler's been waiting for - he sighs out "mm, yeah" and wets his lips and flops himself down onto his stomach, feet kicking up around the pillows and cock rutting a little into the mattress. Propped on his elbows, he's eye-level with Adam's own long, thick, glistening perfect erection, and when Adam sits down on his heels and drops his knees wider apart to give Chandler room, Chandler grins.
"Thank you so much for giving me this," he teases, making a show of licking his lips and wrapping one hand back to cup solid around one hard-muscled cheek of Adam's ass.
Adam's hand, still tangled in Chandler's bordering-on-gross hair, tugs a little harder. "Thank you for taking it," he murmurs back, with a seductively breathless laugh, and he's hitching his hips forward into Chandler's mouth almost before Chandler's managed to take hold of Adam's cock and aim it between his lips.
Once he does get it between his lips, though, Chandler's so turned on that he almost passes out. Adam's saltier than Chandler was expecting - maybe because of dinner? - and the girth of him with his stretched-back foreskin is so big that Chandler's jaw starts to ache exquisitely almost from the get-go. Truth be told, he almost can't even handle it.
"Oh my god," he moans, pulling off and burying his nose in the hair just above Adam's dick, nuzzling and licking around and petting his thighs and ass. "Adam I can't - " his nose up the crease between Adam's thigh and pelvis - "you're so, it's so - " lapping sloppily at the sides of Adam's shaft - "I've never - "
"Chandler, please," says Adam, but it's starting to sound more like an order than a request, and he shoves Chandler back down, thrusting at his slightly-parted lips. Chandler feels cherished and used all at once and it's molten-hot, and he sucks desperately at Adam's cock, timing the bobs of his head with the little pivots of Adam's hips. The weight and slide of Adam's thickness across his tongue is incredible, and he moans messy around him, humming and slurping and shaking. Adam's letting loose some pretty noises of his own, breathy whines and short aborted syllables - god - yes - so good - as he keeps stuffing the thick fat flesh of his cock down into Chandler's stretched-taut mouth. He tongues a little into the slit and down inside the skin, hollowing his cheeks out and massaging the head between the tongue and the roof of his mouth, pillowed and pliant. Just when he really gets going, left hand kneading the firm muscle of Adam's ass and right hand helping jack Adam intently into his mouth, Adam hisses sharply and yanks his head up.
"Mmm what, you taste so good and you're so big, let me - "
"Sweetheart, if you still want me to fuck you, you're going to have to stop," says Adam, voice thready. Chandler looks up at him, face and chest flushed and a vein throbbing on the side of his neck, muscles tense and strained. Shit, Chandler hadn't even realized he was close. And I did that, he realizes, giddy on his own success. He kicks his feet a little and grins, and Adam smiles blissfully back, letting his grabby hand turn soft, a sweet sweaty stroke down the side of Chandler's face.
Adan wheels his legs out from under him and off the side of the bed, sitting up straight. "C'mere," he says, "let's cool off a bit." He tugs on Chandler's shoulders and Chandler follows, sliding up and across till he's sitting sideways across Adam's lap, Adam's hard wet cock still stiff up against the underside of Chandler's thighs. Adam stretches to grab something from under the pillows and then leans back into Chandler, kissing soft and sweet right on his lips. Chandler throws his arms around Adam's neck and kisses back wholeheartedly, pinpointing the exact moment when Adam tastes himself in Chandler's mouth and grinning into it. They trade hushed, sugary kisses like that for several moments, Chandler playing gently with Adam's hair, and Chandler barely even notices what's going on elsewhere until Adam is stroking one cool, slick finger right at the pucker of his entrance.
"Yeah," Chandler breathes, "oh, yes, inside, please." He tries to spread his legs a little more, but sitting perched in Adam's lap with his warm, taut skin everywhere feels so good, and they manage to make it work. Slowly, firm and insistent but tender, Adam works Chandler's hole open, kissing and cradling the whole time, and Chandler feels entirely cocooned in him, eagerly awaiting each new touch of their skin and sighing gratefully when the touches come. It's downright overwhelming, if Chandler's being honest. No one has ever made him feel like this before.
"Did you mean what you said?" asks Adam, low and dirty like a secret. "About me...coming inside you?"
"I mean what I said when I told you my junk is clean, if that's what you're asking," says Chandler, nipping at Adam's bottom lip. "C'mon," he says, squirming a little, wanting to feel Adam's stiff cock beneath him, "please."
"You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Kiehl."
"Trust me when I say there's a lot in this deal for you."
Adam grins, bites Chandler on the ear, and while Chandler is squawking manages to manhandle him into position until they're back-to-front, Chandler still in Adam's lap but facing outward with Adam's chin hooked over his shoulder and his cock nudging up between Chandler's cheeks, slick and huge as ever.
"Are you ready?" Adam asks, voice soft and courteous even as his hips can't quite sit still. "I know - I've been told I'm a bit -
"Fucking huge?" says Chandler, with a breathless laugh and some grinding of his own. "Please, Adam, I've been waiting for this, please, plea -- oh..."
Adam's hand slips down and lines himself up with Chandler's stretched entrance, and Chandler rocks up and forward a little to give him space to work. And then - "aah" - he's in, and Chandler just keeps sinking down into his lap, letting Adam tug him closer and closer, and just when Chandler thinks he must be all the way inside by now Adam thrusts up and gives him just a little bit more, until Chandler's fully seated on Adam's cock and Adam's panting desperately in his ear.
"Oh my god," moans Chandler.
"Oh my god," Adam agrees.
He's so...full. Adam's solid girth is stretching him wide open but he's clenching down on nothing but firm, white-hot flesh, and he can feel Adam's heartbeat against his back and in the throb of his thick cock inside him. If he shifts even the smallest bit it rubs him everywhere inside, and if he pivots just right, the stretch at his rim burns deliciously and the fat head of Adam's cock gets him -
"Ahh, right there!" Chandler cries.
"Fuck, Chandler - "
He reaches back with his arm to cup Adam's face, twisting his neck so they can kiss, and begins to move, bouncing in the smallest increments, more grinding than anything, just feeling the sweet-hot pressure of Adam against every speck of his inner walls. The pleasure is so smooth-hot-intense that Chandler practically feels like even his soul is getting fucked. Adam thrusts up in time, and they kiss and sweat and slide, each jab punching little sighs and moans out of Chandler into Adam's mouth. God, he always knew he was vocal, but this is so - "ah - "oh!" - he couldn't make himself shut up if he tried.
Adam's thrusts grow sloppy, and Chandler realizes he's losing patience - "let's cool off" is long forgotten. His hands anchor hard on Chandler's hips and he bites a little at the juncture of Chandler's neck and shoulder, and whispers, "I've got to move." That's all the warning Chandler gets: seconds later Adam's pushing up hard on his hips and then yanking back down right in time with his own thrust upward. It drives his cock even deeper up into Chandler, something he hadn't thought was even possible at this point, and he pretty much screams.
"Oh, fuck!" His head drops to his chest as he tries to focus on, like, breathing, making sure the best sex of his life isn't also the last. Adam's hot thrusts shear him open again and again, and he's babbling wordlessly into the top of Chandler's spine but Chandler has plenty to say. "Adam, fuck, fuck me, ram me open, so hard, so huge, unh - stuff me with your big cock, I need it, so deep, please...." Adam behind him takes up a steady stream of Chandlerchandlerchandler.
The new angle and rhythm has Chandler's own neglected dick bouncing stiff in his lap, and he finally grasps it and starts to jerk himself, though he's pretty sure he could come from Adam's hard jabs alone. Each heave from Adam slides Chandler's cock right up through his hand, and he's closer, so close -
"Ah - " Adam chokes out, going stiff and still underneath him, and Chandler feels the hot gush of Adam's come as he's overtaken, hands spasming up to touch every part of Chandler he can reach. Chandler whines, he's so wet and so full, and when Adam's arms wrap around his chest, hips still making tiny little pivots as he rides out his aftershocks, his softening cock sloshing his come around inside of Chandler, Chandler finally gets there too.
"Adam," he wails, seizing up a little and hunching forward, and Adam strokes his back as he shoots out onto the carpet, some of it landing on his own pants. He doesn't care; he barely even notices. All he's seeing right now is stars.
Adam guides them back and sideways till they're lying across the bed, curled up together with Adam spooned behind Chandler, cock still inside. He pulls out slowly and Chandler feels some of his come leak out too, hears Adam murmuring, "We seem to have made a bit of a mess."
But Chandler's just had the best sex of his life, so he thinks he's entitled to totally pass out after.
-xxx-
Chandler has the same reaction he always does upon first waking up, which is to find his glasses and check his phone. But when he gropes around for both under the pillows, he can't find either, and that's when he begins to realize and remember - this isn't his high-ratcheted dorm bed. His glasses are thankfully on a nearby table; his phone is probably wherever his pants are, which is not on him at all. Because he's naked.
The person he got naked with is not in the bed, and Chandler sits up a little, feeling the soreness in his ass and smiling just a little bit in satisfaction. "Adam?" he calls softly. His voice isn't up to much more - ooh, shit. Their show opens in four days and he's shot his voice screaming during sex. There is no way to explain that to Jesse.
Adam seems to be a step ahead of him, though, because as he's slinking to the floor in search of his phone/pants, he's re-entering from the other room. "Good morning, sweetheart," he says, smiling amusedly. (Good morning is right - Chandler finds his phone and the display reads 3:37. That's what he gets for zonking out at nine-fifteen.) Adam's carrying two glasses of something that smells great, and he passes one to Chandler. "I made some juice, I'm glad that didn't wake you."
"You made some juice," Chandler repeats, blinking at the cup. "Of course. Just casually..."
"I hit the kitchen when I can't sleep," says Adam, his smile turning a little bashful. He takes a sip from his and Chandler follows suit - and moans. It's cool and fruity on his throat, apple and banana and a couple hints of some other things he doesn't usually associate with juice - is that cucumber?
"What's in this?" he says. "And why wasn't I guzzling it down during that miserable allergy attack?"
"I believe that was when we were too busy aggressively flirting with one another to actually do anything about it."
"Touché."
"Apple, banana, a little coconut milk for consistency," he continues. "Some cucumber and a bit of aloe, for the throat."
"A true apothecary."
They're quiet for a moment, bordering on awkward, while they keep drinking and Chandler tries to gather all his clothes (he shoves his hat back on to mask his totally disgusting hair). He's suddenly aware that Adam's at least got boxers on and he's still totally naked; Adam holds his cup while he tugs on his own briefs.
"Do you have like," asks Chandler. "Sloppy jeans? Yoga pants? The comfiest thing you can loan me."
"Sore?" asks Adam, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
"Deliciously," says Chandler. Adam sets both cups on the bedside table and brings back a pair of faded maroon jeans from his dresser. Chandler's waist is a bit narrower but Adam's got way less of a butt, so once he rolls the ankles a couple of times they work just fine.
Unfortunately, the awkwardness descends once more. It's bumming Chandler out because he doesn't want this to be awkward. The fact that it's awkward makes it feel like a one-night stand, which is the last thing he wants this to be. He'd actually really like for them to be boyfriends. (Even thinking about it brings a little smile to his face, and he has to hide it in his juice.) But they just fell through the door last night already on each other. Chandler didn't even see any of the rest of the apartment.
Well.
"So can I see where the juice magic happens?" he says softly, gesturing a little with his cup.
"Oh! Of course," says Adam. "Though I fear it'll ruin the illusion a bit." He stands, and offers his free hand to Chandler, who takes it, and lets himself be guided out of the bedroom and back into the main space.
The first thing he notices is how much space it actually is, even just for a room and a half (there's a great walk-in closet that casual-dark-tones Adam is squandering).
"Roomy," he says.
"Yeah, it's felt a bit excessive ever since Moira died. My dog," Adam elaborates. "This goofy terrier mutt I got when I went through my first bad breakup. Dumb as a post, poor dear, but lively enough to need the space, even though she was already old when I got her."
Chandler's heart melts, just a little. "You miss her."
"She was a good dog."
The second thing is the "kitchen." It's a free-standing island on wheels, a little bit off-center from the middle of the room, with a plastic mat under it like they use for wheeled chairs in big offices. Crammed on the island are tons of miscellaneous appliances - juicer, blender, George Foreman, toaster oven, waffle maker. The cabinet in the island's base is completely occupied by a dark blue mini-fridge.
"They encourage us to use the large communal kitchen on the ground floor," Adam says, "but you'll understand if I find that a bit...inconvenient. It's hard to make juice for your boyfriend if you have to go all the way downstairs."
Chandler grins. "For your boyfriend?"
"Just, you know," says Adam, smiling back. "A hypothetical."
He kisses him, a sweet straight-on smush of lips, and Chandler can taste the juice on both of them, feel them both smiling. He knows he should say something cute, ask about the juice more or make a science joke on the word "hypothetical," and he hates himself for what he says instead.
"I think I should go."
Adam's face falls. "What? Why?"
Chandler frowns. "I have class first thing in the morning - it's in like five hours, I can't afford to miss it. Plus, I'm on thin enough ice with my dumbass roommate as it is, he'll kill me if I'm out all night with no warning."
"What is he, your mother?"
"He's a snitch and a gossip and a whiny baby, he's the worst." Chandler holds both of Adam's hands in his. "Thank you so much, so much. For the juice, and for dinner, and for cleaning me up while I was sleeping - "
"Oh, good, I was worried that was creepy."
"I can't wait to do it again, and stay the whole night, next time."
That seems to appease Adam. "Next time."
They kiss again, and Chandler ducks back into the bedroom for his phone and the rest of his clothes. Then they kiss again, and he heads back out, and back to NYU.
Even the wrath of Gavroche can't spoil tonight.
-xxx-
Opening night goes pretty well. It's a good thing it does, too, because final dress is a fucking disaster.
For starters, none of the stage hands have any idea where the set pieces actually go at any given time. It's not even all that complicated - a couple of free-standing doors and three or four half-rooms on wheels, plus the flat that's Dewey's trailer - but even with the spike-tape it's all over the place. Beatrice is dealing well, but Jesse's about to blow a gasket.
Or, well, not even "about to."
"HOLD!" he yells for the fifteenth time. "Drake! If these baboons cannot get the set right I swear to god - "
"Should we...help them?" Adam whispers to Chandler, where they're watching from the wings.
"It's not our job," says Chandler. "And if we do it even once, it's going to become our job, which I would honestly prefer to avoid."
"Touché."
The word flashes Chandler back to Sunday night at Adam's place and his heart clenches. Between school, work, and crazy tech-week rehearsals, they haven't had a minute alone together since then and it's making Chandler a little anxious. Didn't Adam want them to be boyfriends? Why aren't they being so boyfriendy any more?
"The thing about Adam," says Kurt, when Chandler asks him as much, "is that he likes to make 'Big Gestures.'" They're hiding out downstairs in the costume basement to give Ellie space - a featured "beach bunny" dancer in What You want, she's thrown her knee out bad enough to need an ambulance. "He's probably lying low right now so he won't give away some silly spectacle he's got planned for later."
"Are you sure?" Chandler's still frowning. "I'm just so - I haven't done boyfriends since high school, I don't want this to move too fast for him - if I'm scaring him off - I mean, we jumped in bed on our first date, and I didn't even stay the night - "
"Relax," Kurt insists, patting him hard on the knee. "And if things stay weird, talk to him. Believe me, if I've learned anything from my relationship with Blaine and its fabulous ups and horrible downs, it's that nothing is a substitute for communication."
Chandler smiles wryly at him. "Was I one of the aforementioned downs?"
"Not a horrible one," Kurt says, his own voice teasing a little too. "We just shouted some Whitney Houston songs at each other and promised to make out more often."
"Would that all relationship fights were that easy!"
Jesse's calling for places - they're going to keep rolling without Ellie, on into Harvard Variations, and Chandler should probably find Adam again. But the thing is, Chandler can't talk to Adam. He may be able to flirt and tease with the ballsiest of them, but when it comes to any kind of serious discussion, his inexperience turns him into a huge chicken. Plus, there's still the lurking reason behind the talk in the first place - what if it's not serious? What if Adam just wants to be casual, sex-and-dinner boyfriends and Chandler's making it all into a way bigger deal than it actually is?
Chandler tries not to think about the little part of him that thinks he would be really, really hurt if that's all that Adam wants. He tries instead to focus on his upcoming song, making sure his voice is warmed up and ready for whichever half of his split identity will be making an appearance tonight.
(It's Chuck. But the first thing out of Jesse's mouth in notes is "Carlos!", and from across the stage Adam just rolls his eyes at Chandler, and smiles.)
-xxx-
from Adam-Nikos: Have you seen the playbills yet?
to Adam-Nikos: no?? omg
from Adam-Nikos:
There's a photo of the H thru N page of the program attached, and when Chandler zooms in on his own bio he sees what Adam's getting at: they have him listed as Chandler J. Kiehl (Chuck).
from Adam-Nikos: There it is in black and white!
to Adam-Nikos: see i have not begun 2 fight!! thank god. screw wat st. james says, lets just do chuck every night
from Adam-Nikos: Your Spanish accent is pretty awful.
He laughs, because it's true, and mostly out of relief. Opening night will have been the end of Carlos. Chuck lives on.
-xxx-
Adam Crawford (Nikos/Frat Boy) is a 2013 graduate of the New York Academy of Dramatic Arts who is excited to be involved in such a fun and energetic production. Other than the stage, his one true passion is food, and he'd like to dedicate his performance to dinner dates everywhere, and to Moira, his own personal Rufus. RIP.
...
Kurt Hummel (Costume Director) is a NYADA sophomore and true devotee of the theatre arts. A proud high school show choir national champion (2012), he is currently employed at Vogue.com and can also be found making fashion waves at hirehummel.net. Love always to Dad and to BDA, his eternal teenage dream. Go Titans!
...
Chandler J. Kiehl (Chuck) currently attends NYU for theatre and film performance. He graduated with honors from North Lima High in Lima, OH and then left for NYC on the next bus! Favorite past performances include Seymour in Little Shop of Horrors and one of the "Barricade Boys" in Les Mis. Follow him everywhere!: twitter.com/iGottaKiehling, facebook.com/mtkiehlimanjaro, videokiehledtheradiostar.tumblr.com
...
Santana Lopez (Enid/Choreographer) hates everyone in the whole show, but she loves them anyway. Except for Jesse, whom she mostly just hates. See her Tue/Thur/Sat nights at Monsoon on 35th (no touching, that's extra). P.S. she really is a lesbian and will be accepting phone numbers after every show. No uglies need apply.
...
Sugar Grace Motta (Chutney/Beach Bunny) is so excited to be onstage with her Auntie Tana for the first time since Grease in high school! Sugar is studying dance and physical therapy with a focus on performance injuries. Nothing in act II is her real hair!!! www.sugargraceblingbling.com
...
Jesse st. James (Director/Emmett) is proud to continue his directorial experience with his first New York production, after having several times led Carmel High's Vocal Adrenaline to successful show choir national championships. Other credits include but are not limited to local and Off-Broadway productions of Assassins (Lee Harvey Oswald), Rent (Roger) and Anything Goes (Billy Crocker). Deep inside, Jesse is merely a humble performer with a desire to share great art with the world. Do not let his immense talent and rakish good looks deceive you, for he is a simple man who strives to convey truth through the purity of his work. Please enjoy Legally Blonde: the Musical as an extension of this passion.
-xxx-
Saturday night is their third performance, and the first one they manage a sold-out crowd for. Kurt and his fiance are in the audience, as well as their friend Rachel and a couple of friends Adam and Kurt know from their NYADA show choir. Gavroche, whom Chandler invited just to be polite after their mini-tiff when he snuck back in last weekend, is unsurprisingly absent.
"I never meant to hurt my father!" yells Sugar/Chutney. "I THOUGHT IT WAS BROOKE COMING THROUGH THE DOOR!" She gasps at herself, followed by everyone else in the bathroom and all the morons in the audience who've never seen the movie. The first notes of the "OMG" finale kick in and Chandler finally makes himself peel his mouth away from where he and Adam have been sucking face pretty much since they started kissing in character onstage. (Chandler's doubts about his intentions have pretty much been wiped away by now.)
"We should probably - mnh - probably get into position for curtain call soon," he says, though not with very much conviction.
"We've got ages," says Adam, still nuzzling at his jaw. "Mmm, Chuck - "
Chandler laughs and kisses him one more time before pushing back and putting some distance between them. "I'm serious. The set pieces for the bathroom are coming off, we're going to have to climb through them."
Adam gives a jokey pout, but relents, smoothing out the front of Chandler's shirt where he's rumpled it. His touch against Chandler's chest still thrills him, is still new and sweet enough. "Are you still planning on going out with the lot of them after the show tonight?"
"I am if you are," says Chandler. "I warned that brat Gavroche and everything."
"Good." Adam says it a little more forcefully than Chandler thinks is normal, and he's not sure what to make of it, but then Paulette is already finished with her bit and Elle's about to propose to Emmett and they really do have to get into position now. They collect Chutney along the way, and the rest of their row when the closing number is over, and when they all dash out behind the Delta Nu ensemble and ahead of Elle's parents and Harvard admissions, Kurt's little group gives them a standing ovation.
Yeah, maybe this show's turned out okay after all.
Chandler heads out to greet his adoring public with his head held high - the audience tonight was definitely better than the previous two, and he always gets a huge crowd reaction when he pops out from the house for his number rather than just entering onstage. He gets a couple of crazy, over-the-top compliment gushers, sees two or three girls he knows from school, and has exactly one guy ask for his number, to which he simply says "No thank you," and searches for Adam's hand beside him with his own. Kurt and company exit at the back of the pack, after most everyone else has finally cleared out, and Chandler's anxious to join up with them to finalize their plans for the night when suddenly he notices Rachel acting even more...squirrely than usual. Sure enough, as soon as she and Jesse lay eyes on each other, a veritable glitterbomb of awkward detonates and douses all the rest of them in gold sparkles.
"No," Kurt says before Jesse's in hearing distance, as if Rachel is a dog. "He is not invited tonight, and neither are you if you try anything."
"I just want to catch up!" she insists. "And Shelby is here, come on, Kurt," but he's having none of it, and meanwhile the awkward continues.
"Chandler!" yelps Blaine desperately. "What a great job tonight, I had no idea you had that voice in you!"
"He is quite impressive," Adam cuts in smoothly. "Shame you're not a NYADA boy or we'd have you for the Apples." His Apple friends - they've been introduced as Steffie and J.R. - laugh in agreement.
"Ugh, show choir?" says Chandler. "No offense, but I'd rather die." He knows exactly how unpopular that opinion is with this crowd and loves the ridiculous reactions the statement gets. Even Santana, Liz and Sugar have merged into their blob now and give cries of mock outrage. It looks like this party is really going to start.
"We still on for my club at eleven?" Santana asks, pointing her finger from person to person for confirmation. Everyone answers affirmative, even Rachel, and with some more laughs and praise and little half-conversations, they disperse so the one half of them can change out of costume and back into their street clothes.
In the men's dressing room, away from too many other eyes, Adam yanks Chandler back into his chest for one more lush, longing kiss.
"Unfinished business," he says simply, and winks at Chandler as he starts to strip out of his shirt.
-xxx-
They all hop on the subway together already a little out of control. Chandler feels giddy from the rush of a successful performance combined with the excitement of a night out with friends, and Sugar on his right seems much the same; the enthusiasm is catching, and everyone's energy ping-pongs off one another, building and building. The other passengers are quickly sick of them.
"So Tana's lying there with her wrists still tied to the bed, right, like all spread out, ready to go - "
"Like I'm just waitin' for it at this point, like, Lizzy, come on."
"And I go to swing the paddle and before it even touches her it just goes fyoom!" Liz gestures and nearly hits J.R. in the face, and everyone laughs at his startled expression. "The head of it just flies straight off! I mean like, across the room."
"But I can't see her so I have no idea what's going on! I think, like, she's broken something, and I go 'Liz! Liz!'"
"Like freaking out at me because I'm just staring dumbfounded at the broken paddle, like, did that for real just happen, but she's like - "
"I'm like 'Liz, oh my god, Liz?!'"
"And the old - " Liz can barely talk for laughing by this point, and Chandler's not especially entertained by their lesbian sexcapades but he kind of needs to hear the punchline now - "the old man in the next apartment - "
"He bangs on the wall - "
"He bangs on the wall and goes 'God damnit, Lester, ain't you finished 'er yet?'"
"Like I was saying 'Les'!" Santana's cackling now, too. Other people are laughing a little as well, but Chandler glances over at Adam on his left, and Kurt and Blaine standing over past him, and no one is really laughing all that much.
Santana finally catches her breath and scowls. "Oh whatever, losers."
"Guess you had to be there," Liz shrugs.
"Invitation respectfully declined," says Kurt, a great totally-judging-you look cast in their direction.
They fall into a couple of little group conversations after that, continuing on toward Monsoon; Adam's engaged Kurt and Blaine in a little discussion of how the Apples are doing since his and Steffie's departure (holding Chandler's hand all the while, though, and sweeping his thumb in a smooth sweet stroke across Chandler's skin), so Chandler falls into a chat with Sugar.
"I'm not sure I know how you connect in this big mess," he says. "High school? Are we really all from Ohio?"
"Yeah!" says Sugar, smiling big. "We were in glee club together. Well, at first I hated glee club because they tried to tell me I couldn't sing which is one hundred percent not true, so me and Santana started our own glee club, but then it wasn't any fun because everyone hated us and there were no boys so we switched back. Well, I guess Santana didn't care about the no boys part."
"I guess not," agrees Chandler.
"Then we all went to nationals together and won!"
"Because of my outstanding solo, might I add," Rachel interjects.
"Rachel, when you have like eight solos a week they stop being outstanding," says Kurt, rolling his eyes, "because the very definition of the word is something that stands out."
"Yeah, Raych, Kurt and Tana and I should get all the solos instead," says Sugar.
"Good girl," laughs Santana, and as they fall into high school bickering again, Chandler just shakes his head, and leans back into Adam at his side, warm bodies pressed close.
"You're awfully quiet tonight," says Adam, knocking Chandler's shoulder with his own. "Something wrong?"
Chandler dares to let himself be a little bit honest. "Maybe?" He picks a little at the upholstery of his seat. "I don't even know, I guess I'm just zonked from the show. Maybe I need some food or something."
"We'll get some at Monsoon," Adam promises, "save your energy." But he looks sweetly, so sweetly right into Chandler's eyes, and then kisses him on the cheek, and Chandler's stomach gives a bonkers little twist and it is so not exhaustion or hunger.
It's a boy. It usually is.
"Hey, bitches, this is us!" shouts Santana, cutting through the chatter, and when their train halts at a station they all finally crowd off in a big, messy pile (Chandler swears he hears an old hispanic woman breath out a profanity and a sigh of relief as they leave). The walk is only a couple of blocks after that, and though it looks pretty much just how Chandler expected from the outside - blue neon sign, blacked-out windows, sketchy alley full of trashbags down the lefthand side - the interior is a pleasant surprise.
Yeah, okay, the back-left corner is a little platform with big cages on either side and a short catwalk-runway down the middle with a pole at the end. But the back-right corner has a much more traditional stage, with even a tiny upright piano wedged onto it, and the bar along the wall looks respectable, the lighting not too shady or too red. And the best part is, there are no skeezy patrons crowding the tables and booths between - the Legally Blonde party of ten are the only people here.
"Don't look so shocked," Santana says, scowling. "We only do the dirty stuff four nights a week."
"Where is everyone?" asks Blaine.
"I bought the place out!" says Sugar. "Just for tonight," she adds when she gets a few stares, Chandler's included. "Daddy didn't mind."
"Who are you people," he murmurs.
"Ernesto!" Santana's leaning over the bar, hollering toward a door that must lead to some back room or kitchen. "Ernesto! Estamos aquí! Vamos a empezar la fiesta!" Whoever Ernesto is, he shouts back in some more muffled spanish, and apparently Santana doesn't like his answer - she vaults over the bar, digs around underneath it for a second, and must find what she's looking for because loud, fun music suddenly blares from the in-house sound system.
"All right, children, get your party panties on!"
-xxx-
( part 3)