DRABBLE MEME: BATCH 8
“Clark Kent-looking stylist”* - professional, dusk, promises by glamchemy and rosepetalfall
So, contrary to what it might look like at the moment, Clark was a complete professional. He was good at his job; he did not get distracted. He did not spend his time staring at singers' asses or flirting with said singer or adjusting his clothing and jewelry more times than was strictly necessary just because his pale, freckled skin looked so enticing. He did not giggle at an embarrassingly high pitch just because the singer liked telling exceptionally dorky jokes about comic books. And he mostly certainly wasn't spending his time fantasizing about whisking the singer off into the night and getting so close to him that their pulses could almost combine, their breath mingle and exchange, their bodies melt together.
He totally wasn't. Because he was a professional like that.
But a professional onlooker he was not, because despite how discreet he thought he was being, Adam noticed. And Adam began reciprocating.
When Clark's hands shook as he folded Adam's cuffs up and tugged them down again, Adam made sure to brush his knuckles against Clark's wrist, the softest of touches. When Clark's fingers crept into Adam's nape to fix his collar, Adam shivered under him, inclined his neck a little bit. And when Clark crouched down slightly to fiddle with the fastenings of Adam's pants, he glanced down with indiscernible eyes, smirking as if he could read Clark's mind.
Maybe he could. Maybe he could see Clark undressing him with his gaze at that very moment, against his volition, still unsure if he wanted to have his way with Adam or the other way around. Maybe they could do both, if they had time.
And maybe Clark should stop thinking about this, even if it had already become apparent with the red-stained blush warming up his cheeks.
Not thinking about it would be so much easier if Adam's eyes, cool and sharpened almost to gray, stopped tracking him. It would easier if Adam stopped parting his lips like he was parched, as if kisses were the only thing that could possibly satisfy him. It would be easier if Adam stopped making Clark turn back around with his giddy laugh and the way he automatically did exactly as the photographer asked (and fuck if that didn't make Clark's mind wander down even more dangerous paths and oh, God, he so wouldn't have worn jeans this tight if he'd only known).
But he needed to stop thinking about it, because this was his job and he wasn’t some kid any more. He needed to stop thinking about it and just get through this shoot.
And then Adam shrugged the jacket off his shoulders, made a pose, and then a face.
"I think I'm stuck," he said with a laugh that made the photographer grin at him in return, impossibly bright and infectious. He struggled with the sleeves, his arms trapped in what seemed like an uncomfortable position.
"Clark, what are you waiting for?" The photographer's voice shot through his reverie, reprimanding him. "Go help him."
Clark nodded helplessly, then rushed forward to Adam's side, hands fumbling in their attempt to disentangle the sleeve from Adam's upper arm.
"Are you just gonna stare all day, Clark?" Adam said his name something intimate, so low only the two of them can hear, and it made Clark's ribcage tighten around his heart. He shook his head subtly, but as urgent as he could make it, before he could think twice.
"Good." Adam smiled, waving to the photographer as if to apologize for the delay. Clark was certain no one would mind being late if Adam smiled at them like that.
"So, are you a supply closet or take-me-home kinda guy?"
Clark's mind, because it existed only to betray him at every turn, flashed to Adam, gasping, dark hair disarrayed and providing the perfect color contrast to the deep red cotton sheets on the expectant bed back home.
"Which would you rather?" he managed, a little too breathy for his own liking. He tugged carefully at the jacket, as if he didn't want it all off, as soon as possible, preferably.
"Nah-uh," Adam whispered, laughter caught in his tone, "your city, your choice," and then the jacket was finally off.
Clark bit his lip and murmured quickly before Adam pulled away, "Well, the supply closets, they're pretty small, you know, and there's a lot of stuff in them and," he continued faster now, seeing the photographer's restless gaze, "I have an awesome view of the bodega across the street. It'd be a shame for you to miss it."
Adam turned around and smiled, just a little, almost entirely in his eyes. He looked suddenly and impossibly shy.
"Well, how could a boy say no to that?"
Clark couldn't help but think maybe, just maybe, that it had always been Adam doing the asking before. It made him feel a little special, a little excited, as he walked away and waited for them to finish.
He stopped watching. It was getting a little creepy, he admitted, and there would be plenty of watching later.
*
Later soon became now as someone suddenly crept up behind him, an arm circling his waist and making him turn around.
Adam didn't smile, didn't speak; he barely even moved as he leaned down and caught Clark's lips in his, fast and sweet and not nearly enough. It was over before anyone could see, before Clark even had a chance to feel it.
"Just a little taste." The statement sounded like it should have been accompanied by a wink, but maybe Clark just didn't see it because Adam was already walking away, beckoning Clark to follow. Clark wondered if he already knew the way to his house.
It would just be another trick up Adam's sleeve.
Clark stayed where he was for a moment, feeling the warm glow of victory spread in his chest. Wherever they were going, Clark hoped it would be alone.
Adam was still walking away, slowly though, practically sauntering, and Clark could feel the glow coalesce into a sharp spike of heat. He caught up quickly.
"So where is it we're going?" he asked quietly into Adam's ear. He could have spoken aloud, but the way Adam's breath stuttered for just a moment at the brush of Clark's lips was reason enough for doing so.
"Getting a cab," Adam replied in an equally hushed tone. His lips lingered by Clark's temple. Titling his face up, Clark could see they were freckled. "I'm assuming you don't live in walking distance," Adam added with some amusement, glancing at the towering glass and stone buildings.
"No," Clark agreed, and then he could no longer resist the urge that had plagued him the whole day. He pressed his lips against Adam's.
Adam reciprocated, and the same breath managed to flag down a cab. He pushed Clark into the backseat with the ease of Superman lifting a building or two, managing to keep the kiss unbroken. He did pull away, though, poised to don either a smile or a middle finger for the driver, depending on the man's reaction to the whole thing. Fortunately he didn't seem to mind.
"Your address, babe," Adam nudged him; Clark would have given him so much more, if only he'd asked. He managed to tell the driver in a husky stutter, his cheeks flaming. Then Adam saved him from his awkwardness by swooping in with his lips again.
This time, he didn't let go until the cab finally pulled up at Clark's house. He wondered if it was the oxygen deprivation, or just Adam's dizzying presence, that was to blame for his light-headedness. Probably both.
But honestly, he could have gone without breathing for a while longer.
Adam handed a bill to the driver and didn't wait for his change, getting out as quickly as possible.
They stood on Clark's front porch, where Adam donned another little smirk.
"Aren't you gonna invite me in?" He said in an impossibly villainous tone, and Clark realized that if he were the hero and Adam was the bad guy, then Adam had already won the moment he walked into the studio that morning.
That said, this wasn't a comic book, and they were just ordinary people, and there were no real battles to be fought; Clark opened the door to make room for less winning, and a lot more kissing.
Bill Kaulitz* - shopping, giggles, makeup by madamreaper
Adam had wanted to go shopping with Bill Kaulitz for a long while. So when the chance arose, and the German singer offered to take him to a few decent shops on his day off, Adam readily agreed. Despite his poor English, Bill chatted away and Adam couldn’t help but respond, even if both men did need to repeat themselves fairly regularly, they were able to laugh and shop and just outright enjoy each other’s company.
Make up was a popular topic, and they swapped tricks, techniques and favourite brands. When Adam tried to repeat the name of one back, making sure he understood it, Bill laughed at the mispronunciation of it. The giggles that bubbled from the younger man were infectious and Adam laughed too.
Yeah, he’d been right. Shopping with Bill Kaulitz was awesome.
Tommy Ratliff* - beach, rain, tenderness by madamreaper
They had a day off, and Tommy revelled in the sleep in that it allowed. It was almost noon when his phone chimed, signalling a text. He read the message with bleary eyes. It wasn’t until he reread it; after he’d washed his face and had a coffee, that he was able to reply.
So maybe a picnic on a quiet beach wasn’t such a good idea if the rain was anything to go by. Adam had laughed when the first drop hit Tommy’s cheek, causing him to start slightly. He’d reached over and wiped the drip from his face. It was pointless, as the rain continued and they were forced to run to Adam’s car to seek refuge from the cold rain.
Back at Adam’s house, once they had showered, dried and redressed, both in sweat pants and a t-shirt, they curled up on Adam’s couch in front of the TV with a movie, a blanket thrown over them. Tommy’s back was to Adam’s chest and his head rested on a broad comfortable shoulder.
Tommy knew he wouldn’t want to be anywhere other than curled up with the man he was very quickly falling in love with on his day off.
Anoop Desai* - entangled, dawn, Europe by Anon
Drunk Anoop was a lot different than regular Anoop, Adam reflected as the first light of dawn peeked in through the window and illuminated his unlikely bed partner. He was still essentially the same person, obviously, but he seemed to loose that carefully constructed layer of politeness, the fear that if he said or did one thing out of place he would end up driving people away.
For example regular Anoop would never have admitted, especially to Adam that he hated glitter. Or borrowed the immortal words of Simon Cowell and told Adam that some of his shows in Europe were indulgent rubbish. But regular Anoop would probably not have invited Adam up to his hotel room either. Definitely would not have pushed Adam against the door and kissed him like his life depended on it, or fallen asleep after snuggling Adam, their long legs entangled together. Yep, he liked drunk Anoop better.
And now Adam was waiting for regular Anoop to wake up, trying to anticipate his reaction and pushing down the twinge of worry that he would freak out. He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he didn't realize Anoop had woken up till he leaned over and kissed him on the nose, whispering, "Hey, you." Adam grinned, maybe regular Anoop wasn't so bad either.
Anoop Desai* - unprompted by rosepetalfall (Mod note: YES, unprompted drabbles will be allowed. If you want to write some short fics that you feel just don't fit in at other comms or you don't want to post at your own journal, you are welcome to post them here & I will put them up as a drabble.)
"Not that I object to variety or anything, but are we looking for anything in particular?" Anoop asks in a whisper. He always feels the need to whisper in sex shops (which means they somehow get entangled with libraries in his unconscious mind and that's not something he really wants to explore right now, for all that Adam would look gorgeous against a backdrop of filled stacks). He can never get the place with the huge red sign (Delia's Adult Emporium) off the local highway back home out of his mind, no matter how hard he tries. He can never shake off the flush that creeps up the back of his neck. It's sweltering North Carolina summers, that prickling, only half-realized over-hanging feeling of shame and that vague sense of impending doom all over again. Except this time doom is less his mom and more the paparazzi.
"Yeah," Adam says casually, sweeping a hand over some complicated looking leather devices with a slight frown. He turns his head, to glance back at Anoop, lower lip caught between his teeth. Adam can be oddly coy and uncertain sometimes for someone who has been fully naked on stage before. "It's not like you're coming on tour with me. Have to have something to entertain myself with." Adam's eyes laugh, and then with a little toss of his sweet-smelling hair, he sashays down the aisle.
"Oh," Anoop says. "Okay."
Apparently Anoop now goes vibrator shopping with his boyfriend. Alright then.
Later, Adam takes his own honey-sweet, molasses-slow time dropping his keys in the basket by the front door, slipping off his jacket, flipping on the lights, as if he couldn't sense every fever-bright thought that has been whipping about Anoop's head.
"Well," Adam begins, and here Anoop knows to jump in, because Adam will play this game all night long if he doesn't.
So Anoop sidles up to Adam, holds him (Adam makes a low, barely audible humming noise and presses his face into Anoop's neck) and says, "So I think we should test your stuff out." It comes out more husky than he had intended.
Adam pulls away enough that Anoop can see his face, sporting a wicked grin and a smug expression. Adam wraps a leg around the back of Anoop's calf, dragging the cuff of Anoop's jeans up with him. The black leather of Adam's boots has a glowing heat of its own against Anoop's bare skin.
"Want me to keep them on for you?" Adam challenges and Anoop just has to kiss that smirk off his face.
"Have I ever mentioned I love how quick on the uptake you are?" Anoop asks.
Adam's eyes are dark and crackling sharp, like the sky predicting a storm and his grin is addicting.
"Ditto," he says, and tugs Anoop into the bedroom behind him.
So, contrary to what it might look like at the moment, Clark was a complete professional. He was good at his job; he did not get distracted. He did not spend his time staring at singers' asses or flirting with said singer or adjusting his clothing and jewelry more times than was strictly necessary just because his pale, freckled skin looked so enticing. He did not giggle at an embarrassingly high pitch just because the singer liked telling exceptionally dorky jokes about comic books. And he mostly certainly wasn't spending his time fantasizing about whisking the singer off into the night and getting so close to him that their pulses could almost combine, their breath mingle and exchange, their bodies melt together.
He totally wasn't. Because he was a professional like that.
But a professional onlooker he was not, because despite how discreet he thought he was being, Adam noticed. And Adam began reciprocating.
When Clark's hands shook as he folded Adam's cuffs up and tugged them down again, Adam made sure to brush his knuckles against Clark's wrist, the softest of touches. When Clark's fingers crept into Adam's nape to fix his collar, Adam shivered under him, inclined his neck a little bit. And when Clark crouched down slightly to fiddle with the fastenings of Adam's pants, he glanced down with indiscernible eyes, smirking as if he could read Clark's mind.
Maybe he could. Maybe he could see Clark undressing him with his gaze at that very moment, against his volition, still unsure if he wanted to have his way with Adam or the other way around. Maybe they could do both, if they had time.
And maybe Clark should stop thinking about this, even if it had already become apparent with the red-stained blush warming up his cheeks.
Not thinking about it would be so much easier if Adam's eyes, cool and sharpened almost to gray, stopped tracking him. It would easier if Adam stopped parting his lips like he was parched, as if kisses were the only thing that could possibly satisfy him. It would be easier if Adam stopped making Clark turn back around with his giddy laugh and the way he automatically did exactly as the photographer asked (and fuck if that didn't make Clark's mind wander down even more dangerous paths and oh, God, he so wouldn't have worn jeans this tight if he'd only known).
But he needed to stop thinking about it, because this was his job and he wasn’t some kid any more. He needed to stop thinking about it and just get through this shoot.
And then Adam shrugged the jacket off his shoulders, made a pose, and then a face.
"I think I'm stuck," he said with a laugh that made the photographer grin at him in return, impossibly bright and infectious. He struggled with the sleeves, his arms trapped in what seemed like an uncomfortable position.
"Clark, what are you waiting for?" The photographer's voice shot through his reverie, reprimanding him. "Go help him."
Clark nodded helplessly, then rushed forward to Adam's side, hands fumbling in their attempt to disentangle the sleeve from Adam's upper arm.
"Are you just gonna stare all day, Clark?" Adam said his name something intimate, so low only the two of them can hear, and it made Clark's ribcage tighten around his heart. He shook his head subtly, but as urgent as he could make it, before he could think twice.
"Good." Adam smiled, waving to the photographer as if to apologize for the delay. Clark was certain no one would mind being late if Adam smiled at them like that.
"So, are you a supply closet or take-me-home kinda guy?"
Clark's mind, because it existed only to betray him at every turn, flashed to Adam, gasping, dark hair disarrayed and providing the perfect color contrast to the deep red cotton sheets on the expectant bed back home.
"Which would you rather?" he managed, a little too breathy for his own liking. He tugged carefully at the jacket, as if he didn't want it all off, as soon as possible, preferably.
"Nah-uh," Adam whispered, laughter caught in his tone, "your city, your choice," and then the jacket was finally off.
Clark bit his lip and murmured quickly before Adam pulled away, "Well, the supply closets, they're pretty small, you know, and there's a lot of stuff in them and," he continued faster now, seeing the photographer's restless gaze, "I have an awesome view of the bodega across the street. It'd be a shame for you to miss it."
Adam turned around and smiled, just a little, almost entirely in his eyes. He looked suddenly and impossibly shy.
"Well, how could a boy say no to that?"
Clark couldn't help but think maybe, just maybe, that it had always been Adam doing the asking before. It made him feel a little special, a little excited, as he walked away and waited for them to finish.
He stopped watching. It was getting a little creepy, he admitted, and there would be plenty of watching later.
*
Later soon became now as someone suddenly crept up behind him, an arm circling his waist and making him turn around.
Adam didn't smile, didn't speak; he barely even moved as he leaned down and caught Clark's lips in his, fast and sweet and not nearly enough. It was over before anyone could see, before Clark even had a chance to feel it.
"Just a little taste." The statement sounded like it should have been accompanied by a wink, but maybe Clark just didn't see it because Adam was already walking away, beckoning Clark to follow. Clark wondered if he already knew the way to his house.
It would just be another trick up Adam's sleeve.
Clark stayed where he was for a moment, feeling the warm glow of victory spread in his chest. Wherever they were going, Clark hoped it would be alone.
Adam was still walking away, slowly though, practically sauntering, and Clark could feel the glow coalesce into a sharp spike of heat. He caught up quickly.
"So where is it we're going?" he asked quietly into Adam's ear. He could have spoken aloud, but the way Adam's breath stuttered for just a moment at the brush of Clark's lips was reason enough for doing so.
"Getting a cab," Adam replied in an equally hushed tone. His lips lingered by Clark's temple. Titling his face up, Clark could see they were freckled. "I'm assuming you don't live in walking distance," Adam added with some amusement, glancing at the towering glass and stone buildings.
"No," Clark agreed, and then he could no longer resist the urge that had plagued him the whole day. He pressed his lips against Adam's.
Adam reciprocated, and the same breath managed to flag down a cab. He pushed Clark into the backseat with the ease of Superman lifting a building or two, managing to keep the kiss unbroken. He did pull away, though, poised to don either a smile or a middle finger for the driver, depending on the man's reaction to the whole thing. Fortunately he didn't seem to mind.
"Your address, babe," Adam nudged him; Clark would have given him so much more, if only he'd asked. He managed to tell the driver in a husky stutter, his cheeks flaming. Then Adam saved him from his awkwardness by swooping in with his lips again.
This time, he didn't let go until the cab finally pulled up at Clark's house. He wondered if it was the oxygen deprivation, or just Adam's dizzying presence, that was to blame for his light-headedness. Probably both.
But honestly, he could have gone without breathing for a while longer.
Adam handed a bill to the driver and didn't wait for his change, getting out as quickly as possible.
They stood on Clark's front porch, where Adam donned another little smirk.
"Aren't you gonna invite me in?" He said in an impossibly villainous tone, and Clark realized that if he were the hero and Adam was the bad guy, then Adam had already won the moment he walked into the studio that morning.
That said, this wasn't a comic book, and they were just ordinary people, and there were no real battles to be fought; Clark opened the door to make room for less winning, and a lot more kissing.
Bill Kaulitz* - shopping, giggles, makeup by madamreaper
Adam had wanted to go shopping with Bill Kaulitz for a long while. So when the chance arose, and the German singer offered to take him to a few decent shops on his day off, Adam readily agreed. Despite his poor English, Bill chatted away and Adam couldn’t help but respond, even if both men did need to repeat themselves fairly regularly, they were able to laugh and shop and just outright enjoy each other’s company.
Make up was a popular topic, and they swapped tricks, techniques and favourite brands. When Adam tried to repeat the name of one back, making sure he understood it, Bill laughed at the mispronunciation of it. The giggles that bubbled from the younger man were infectious and Adam laughed too.
Yeah, he’d been right. Shopping with Bill Kaulitz was awesome.
Tommy Ratliff* - beach, rain, tenderness by madamreaper
They had a day off, and Tommy revelled in the sleep in that it allowed. It was almost noon when his phone chimed, signalling a text. He read the message with bleary eyes. It wasn’t until he reread it; after he’d washed his face and had a coffee, that he was able to reply.
So maybe a picnic on a quiet beach wasn’t such a good idea if the rain was anything to go by. Adam had laughed when the first drop hit Tommy’s cheek, causing him to start slightly. He’d reached over and wiped the drip from his face. It was pointless, as the rain continued and they were forced to run to Adam’s car to seek refuge from the cold rain.
Back at Adam’s house, once they had showered, dried and redressed, both in sweat pants and a t-shirt, they curled up on Adam’s couch in front of the TV with a movie, a blanket thrown over them. Tommy’s back was to Adam’s chest and his head rested on a broad comfortable shoulder.
Tommy knew he wouldn’t want to be anywhere other than curled up with the man he was very quickly falling in love with on his day off.
Anoop Desai* - entangled, dawn, Europe by Anon
Drunk Anoop was a lot different than regular Anoop, Adam reflected as the first light of dawn peeked in through the window and illuminated his unlikely bed partner. He was still essentially the same person, obviously, but he seemed to loose that carefully constructed layer of politeness, the fear that if he said or did one thing out of place he would end up driving people away.
For example regular Anoop would never have admitted, especially to Adam that he hated glitter. Or borrowed the immortal words of Simon Cowell and told Adam that some of his shows in Europe were indulgent rubbish. But regular Anoop would probably not have invited Adam up to his hotel room either. Definitely would not have pushed Adam against the door and kissed him like his life depended on it, or fallen asleep after snuggling Adam, their long legs entangled together. Yep, he liked drunk Anoop better.
And now Adam was waiting for regular Anoop to wake up, trying to anticipate his reaction and pushing down the twinge of worry that he would freak out. He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he didn't realize Anoop had woken up till he leaned over and kissed him on the nose, whispering, "Hey, you." Adam grinned, maybe regular Anoop wasn't so bad either.
Anoop Desai* - unprompted by rosepetalfall (Mod note: YES, unprompted drabbles will be allowed. If you want to write some short fics that you feel just don't fit in at other comms or you don't want to post at your own journal, you are welcome to post them here & I will put them up as a drabble.)
"Not that I object to variety or anything, but are we looking for anything in particular?" Anoop asks in a whisper. He always feels the need to whisper in sex shops (which means they somehow get entangled with libraries in his unconscious mind and that's not something he really wants to explore right now, for all that Adam would look gorgeous against a backdrop of filled stacks). He can never get the place with the huge red sign (Delia's Adult Emporium) off the local highway back home out of his mind, no matter how hard he tries. He can never shake off the flush that creeps up the back of his neck. It's sweltering North Carolina summers, that prickling, only half-realized over-hanging feeling of shame and that vague sense of impending doom all over again. Except this time doom is less his mom and more the paparazzi.
"Yeah," Adam says casually, sweeping a hand over some complicated looking leather devices with a slight frown. He turns his head, to glance back at Anoop, lower lip caught between his teeth. Adam can be oddly coy and uncertain sometimes for someone who has been fully naked on stage before. "It's not like you're coming on tour with me. Have to have something to entertain myself with." Adam's eyes laugh, and then with a little toss of his sweet-smelling hair, he sashays down the aisle.
"Oh," Anoop says. "Okay."
Apparently Anoop now goes vibrator shopping with his boyfriend. Alright then.
Later, Adam takes his own honey-sweet, molasses-slow time dropping his keys in the basket by the front door, slipping off his jacket, flipping on the lights, as if he couldn't sense every fever-bright thought that has been whipping about Anoop's head.
"Well," Adam begins, and here Anoop knows to jump in, because Adam will play this game all night long if he doesn't.
So Anoop sidles up to Adam, holds him (Adam makes a low, barely audible humming noise and presses his face into Anoop's neck) and says, "So I think we should test your stuff out." It comes out more husky than he had intended.
Adam pulls away enough that Anoop can see his face, sporting a wicked grin and a smug expression. Adam wraps a leg around the back of Anoop's calf, dragging the cuff of Anoop's jeans up with him. The black leather of Adam's boots has a glowing heat of its own against Anoop's bare skin.
"Want me to keep them on for you?" Adam challenges and Anoop just has to kiss that smirk off his face.
"Have I ever mentioned I love how quick on the uptake you are?" Anoop asks.
Adam's eyes are dark and crackling sharp, like the sky predicting a storm and his grin is addicting.
"Ditto," he says, and tugs Anoop into the bedroom behind him.