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deidreintheskyRating: R for Language and Sexual References
Pairing: Adam Lambert & Tommy Joe Ratliff (Kris is involved only in a lyrical way)
Word Count: 1345
Disclaimer: Don't know 'em, don't own 'em. Written just for fun. No disrespect intended to the real people upon whom these characters are based. Totally inappropriate.
Summary: Tommy learns something about interviews. Adam learns something about Tommy. And himself.
“Is it over?” Tommy whines. He hates that interview more than anything. Talk about embarrassing. He squeezes his eyes shut, sticks an index finger in each ear and starts chanting to drown out the voices. “La la la la la la la la.”
Adam is practically in hysterics, he is laughing so hard. Barely able to catch his breath he exclaims, “I cannot believe you. Are you telling me that this was not staged?” He swipes a tear from his face and turns back to the video.
“It’s not funny.” Tommy jabs an elbow into Adam’s side, which prompts him to slide to the far end of the couch, beyond the reach of Tommy’s pointy body parts.
“Oh, it’s funny, Tommy Joe. It’s fucking hilarious.”
“Why you gotta watch that shit? I asked you to turn it off.”
“I don't care what you say.” Adam’s mirth is really annoying. Tommy takes a swipe at the remote, but Adam holds it out of reach. “Nope, no matter what you do, I can't stay away from this thing. It’s priceless.” He jumps the video back to its beginning. Tommy squirms uncomfortably as the voices reach easily past his digital sound barrier.
“Fuck you.”
“Um, yeah?”
“I’m leaving.” Tommy stands up and grabs his jacket off the back of the couch.
“Just got here.”
“False fucking pretenses. I came over to drink beer and watch movies.”
“Videos. I said videos.”
“You just want to laugh at me. I can’t help I’m not as eloquent as you.”
“Honey, you’re eloquent. Actually, I think your subconscious is exceptionally eloquent.” Adam leers at the the other man. “Admit it; you’d love to suck my big cock.”
“Jesus H Christ, what’s got into you? You're sayin' fucking things I've never fucking heard from you before.” Tommy is getting pissed; not only has Adam stepped across some invisible line they have wordlessly agreed to, but Tommy’s cock has gone there with him. “Alright with me,” it seems to declare with a twitch. That’s so not okay with Tommy. Adam is not the boss of his dick. Absolutely not.
Adam hits replay, and watches for a moment. “There. Right there. You said so yourself. ‘I love playing with Adam.’ How else am I supposed to take it?” he laughs, but then he rubs his finger along the side of his nose, a sure sign that he is considering what he is going to say. “Actually, I think you do want to play. You can tell me it's not true, but I can see right through you.” Some of the laughter fades from his eyes, but that’s not what Tommy is looking at. Adam’s ringed fingers are trailing slowly back and forth across his fly.
Tommy catches himself and looks away. “I need to know what’s going on here. You’re not joking now, are you?” Tommy eyes the front door longingly.
Adam straightens himself out of his sprawl, casually adjusting his crotch, admits, “Not so much. When I watched that interview the first time, I sprayed my drink out my nose. I thought it was a brilliant spoof, but when I looked at it again, I realized part of me wished you were seriously talking about us." His eyes narrow, watching for Tommy's reaction. "I’m pretty sure I didn’t want to jump your bones in the beginning, but to be honest, that hasn’t been true for weeks." Adam hesitates. When he continues his voice has gone deadly serious. "I'm trying, Tommy, but honesty is the hardest thing. I’m trying to own up, figure out how things have changed, who I was before and who I am now and who we are, what we could be.”
Tommy shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Why did they have to cross this line now? Why did they have to cross it ever? Adam takes a breath and Tommy thinks, oh, no, there’s more.
Sure enough, Adam continues, “So anyway, I started watching us, and as much as we want to deny it, it's the elephant in the room, and we keep pretending that we don't even see it. It’s like a fucking avalanche that’s looming over our heads, and we act like we don't believe it’s ever gonna come crashing down.”
“I don’t even want to have this conversation. Fuck, Adam, we could screw everything up: we work together, we’re friends. You’re practically my best friend.” This is making Tommy nervous. He definitely needs to get out of here. Like now. Before he says or does something really dumb, like get all up in Adam’s space, and... Shit. Shit. Shit. “I’m going home.”
“Okay, but you are changing just the same as me. I can see it in your eyes. I know you better than you know. You can fight but this is not over. The avalanche is about ready to bury us.”
Adam stands. Tommy watches him warily as he steps in close and makes to hug Tommy. That works, nothing changed, same warm, full hug. Uh oh, what... Adam lifts Tommy’s chin.
“I think you need to take something home with you.” It is not lost on Tommy that Adam’s gaze holds more than just the sexy, mischievous flirtation from their shows. Their lips are the same, yet not. The jump in Tommy’s jeans is expected (What? The man can fucking kiss), but the hitch in his breath is new. So, yeah, as much as he hates it, he guesses he’ll take this home with him, roll it around, taste it, mull it over.
Now what. Tommy watches as his mutinous arms wrap around the taller man and his equally intractable face pushes into the soft cotton of Adam’s tee shirt. What the fuck. Oh well, as long as he’s already committed... He clings there for a minute or two.
“Afraid, Tommy Joe?”
“Fuck, yeah, aren’t you?”
“Yes, some, but what we already have is safe. We won’t let anything break.”
They part at the front entryway.
“Call me,” Adam tosses to Tommy’s back as he walks toward his car. Tommy reaches up with an arm and catches the words, flips what he hopes Adam recognizes as an affectionate bird.
Adam goes inside, carries empty beers to the kitchen, wipes the counter. He’s heading up to bed when he hears his phone ring. “Tommy?”
“I’m fucking calling you. Happy?” Tommy begrudges a smile into the phone.
“Very.”
It seems a long time before the ensuing silence breaks.
“I'm at your door, I’m ready to confess that you take my heart or some fucking shit like that.” When Adam opens the door, Tommy is humming a line from a song that he can’t quite place, “I need more, more, more, more, more, ohhh.”
Stupid interview.
Pairing: Adam Lambert & Tommy Joe Ratliff (Kris is involved only in a lyrical way)
Word Count: 1345
Disclaimer: Don't know 'em, don't own 'em. Written just for fun. No disrespect intended to the real people upon whom these characters are based. Totally inappropriate.
Summary: Tommy learns something about interviews. Adam learns something about Tommy. And himself.
TOMMY AND ADAM ACCIDENTALLY QUOTE KRIS ALLEN ALL OVER THE PLACE
or
The Interview
or
The Interview
“Is it over?” Tommy whines. He hates that interview more than anything. Talk about embarrassing. He squeezes his eyes shut, sticks an index finger in each ear and starts chanting to drown out the voices. “La la la la la la la la.”
Adam is practically in hysterics, he is laughing so hard. Barely able to catch his breath he exclaims, “I cannot believe you. Are you telling me that this was not staged?” He swipes a tear from his face and turns back to the video.
“It’s not funny.” Tommy jabs an elbow into Adam’s side, which prompts him to slide to the far end of the couch, beyond the reach of Tommy’s pointy body parts.
“Oh, it’s funny, Tommy Joe. It’s fucking hilarious.”
“Why you gotta watch that shit? I asked you to turn it off.”
“I don't care what you say.” Adam’s mirth is really annoying. Tommy takes a swipe at the remote, but Adam holds it out of reach. “Nope, no matter what you do, I can't stay away from this thing. It’s priceless.” He jumps the video back to its beginning. Tommy squirms uncomfortably as the voices reach easily past his digital sound barrier.
Interviewer: “Now that Adam has gotten so big, has it changed things?”
Tommy: “It’s cool. I love how big he is, and how he just keeps getting bigger and bigger. It makes him so happy, and it’s like he’s excited all the time.”
Int: How would you describe the tour so far?”
T: “The best. I love playing with Adam.”
Int: “What about all the attention?”
T: “It can get little over-stimulating, but it’s worth it. I’m totally riding this for as long as he will let me.”
Int: “Let’s talk talent.”
T: “I’ve never been with anyone who comes close to Adam. He has a talent and he knows how to use it. When he’s really into it, he can just look in someone’s eyes and know exactly what they want. He, like, mixes that with what he wants, and the end is pure heaven. It is absofuckinglutely amazing to be right there with him. Experience of a life time, and I get it every night.”
Adam starts it again. “You really think I’m getting bigger?” He glances down at the front of his jeans, chuckles and pats his dick affectionately. “You better make a move if you don’t want me to outgrow your skinny little ass.”Tommy: “It’s cool. I love how big he is, and how he just keeps getting bigger and bigger. It makes him so happy, and it’s like he’s excited all the time.”
Int: How would you describe the tour so far?”
T: “The best. I love playing with Adam.”
Int: “What about all the attention?”
T: “It can get little over-stimulating, but it’s worth it. I’m totally riding this for as long as he will let me.”
Int: “Let’s talk talent.”
T: “I’ve never been with anyone who comes close to Adam. He has a talent and he knows how to use it. When he’s really into it, he can just look in someone’s eyes and know exactly what they want. He, like, mixes that with what he wants, and the end is pure heaven. It is absofuckinglutely amazing to be right there with him. Experience of a life time, and I get it every night.”
“Fuck you.”
“Um, yeah?”
“I’m leaving.” Tommy stands up and grabs his jacket off the back of the couch.
“Just got here.”
“False fucking pretenses. I came over to drink beer and watch movies.”
“Videos. I said videos.”
“You just want to laugh at me. I can’t help I’m not as eloquent as you.”
“Honey, you’re eloquent. Actually, I think your subconscious is exceptionally eloquent.” Adam leers at the the other man. “Admit it; you’d love to suck my big cock.”
“Jesus H Christ, what’s got into you? You're sayin' fucking things I've never fucking heard from you before.” Tommy is getting pissed; not only has Adam stepped across some invisible line they have wordlessly agreed to, but Tommy’s cock has gone there with him. “Alright with me,” it seems to declare with a twitch. That’s so not okay with Tommy. Adam is not the boss of his dick. Absolutely not.
Adam hits replay, and watches for a moment. “There. Right there. You said so yourself. ‘I love playing with Adam.’ How else am I supposed to take it?” he laughs, but then he rubs his finger along the side of his nose, a sure sign that he is considering what he is going to say. “Actually, I think you do want to play. You can tell me it's not true, but I can see right through you.” Some of the laughter fades from his eyes, but that’s not what Tommy is looking at. Adam’s ringed fingers are trailing slowly back and forth across his fly.
Tommy catches himself and looks away. “I need to know what’s going on here. You’re not joking now, are you?” Tommy eyes the front door longingly.
Adam straightens himself out of his sprawl, casually adjusting his crotch, admits, “Not so much. When I watched that interview the first time, I sprayed my drink out my nose. I thought it was a brilliant spoof, but when I looked at it again, I realized part of me wished you were seriously talking about us." His eyes narrow, watching for Tommy's reaction. "I’m pretty sure I didn’t want to jump your bones in the beginning, but to be honest, that hasn’t been true for weeks." Adam hesitates. When he continues his voice has gone deadly serious. "I'm trying, Tommy, but honesty is the hardest thing. I’m trying to own up, figure out how things have changed, who I was before and who I am now and who we are, what we could be.”
Tommy shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Why did they have to cross this line now? Why did they have to cross it ever? Adam takes a breath and Tommy thinks, oh, no, there’s more.
Sure enough, Adam continues, “So anyway, I started watching us, and as much as we want to deny it, it's the elephant in the room, and we keep pretending that we don't even see it. It’s like a fucking avalanche that’s looming over our heads, and we act like we don't believe it’s ever gonna come crashing down.”
“I don’t even want to have this conversation. Fuck, Adam, we could screw everything up: we work together, we’re friends. You’re practically my best friend.” This is making Tommy nervous. He definitely needs to get out of here. Like now. Before he says or does something really dumb, like get all up in Adam’s space, and... Shit. Shit. Shit. “I’m going home.”
“Okay, but you are changing just the same as me. I can see it in your eyes. I know you better than you know. You can fight but this is not over. The avalanche is about ready to bury us.”
Adam stands. Tommy watches him warily as he steps in close and makes to hug Tommy. That works, nothing changed, same warm, full hug. Uh oh, what... Adam lifts Tommy’s chin.
“I think you need to take something home with you.” It is not lost on Tommy that Adam’s gaze holds more than just the sexy, mischievous flirtation from their shows. Their lips are the same, yet not. The jump in Tommy’s jeans is expected (What? The man can fucking kiss), but the hitch in his breath is new. So, yeah, as much as he hates it, he guesses he’ll take this home with him, roll it around, taste it, mull it over.
Now what. Tommy watches as his mutinous arms wrap around the taller man and his equally intractable face pushes into the soft cotton of Adam’s tee shirt. What the fuck. Oh well, as long as he’s already committed... He clings there for a minute or two.
“Afraid, Tommy Joe?”
“Fuck, yeah, aren’t you?”
“Yes, some, but what we already have is safe. We won’t let anything break.”
They part at the front entryway.
“Call me,” Adam tosses to Tommy’s back as he walks toward his car. Tommy reaches up with an arm and catches the words, flips what he hopes Adam recognizes as an affectionate bird.
Adam goes inside, carries empty beers to the kitchen, wipes the counter. He’s heading up to bed when he hears his phone ring. “Tommy?”
“I’m fucking calling you. Happy?” Tommy begrudges a smile into the phone.
“Very.”
It seems a long time before the ensuing silence breaks.
“I'm at your door, I’m ready to confess that you take my heart or some fucking shit like that.” When Adam opens the door, Tommy is humming a line from a song that he can’t quite place, “I need more, more, more, more, more, ohhh.”
Stupid interview.
* * * End * * *
