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Glam Kink Meme Post #1

The Glam Kink Meme Post #1 is now open.

Have fun prompting, writing, reading, and feedbacking. :)

ETA: All prompts are listed here.

ETA2: All filled prompts are archived here.

ETA3 This post is now CLOSED to new prompts.

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Jul. 11th, 2011 10:26 am (UTC)
Filled: Show and Tell
It kinda makes me sad that no one's filled this before now, lol.

Show and Tell - Went with Adam/Anyone

Edited at 2011-07-11 10:28 am (UTC)
Jul. 11th, 2011 03:22 pm (UTC)
Re: FILL: A Perfect Match - Adam/Tommy - 3/3
Thank you! :D Glad it was to your liking.
Jul. 12th, 2011 02:46 am (UTC)
Filled: Precious Time
Hope you like. :3

Precious Time

Panting, Adam slid his fingers free and reached for the toy that caught his eye—a glass dildo, a beautiful obscenity of deepest black, with glimmering silver curled within. He held it up, letting the light play along the glossy length and sparkling swirls, studying the round contours and fine curves, imagining how it would feel inside. Not what he usually played with, but his body ached with want, with the need for something different to pair with the exhilarating buzz of champagne and celebration bubbling in his blood. The need for something special.

Adam coated the toy with lube, then lowered it between his legs and slipped it tentatively inside. The glass was cool against his heated skin, and he gasped and clenched around it. Too much, he thought, breathing hard, getting used to the cold, smooth pressure barely in his hole. Too much, but not enough. Carefully, he pushed in deeper, letting himself feel the cool-burning fullness, the sleek hardness, the slide of skin on lube-slick glass. It went in easily, its unresisting surface quickly warming to the temperature of skin, and he kept going, stopping for a moment when he reached the first thick, round knot. He wanted to go slowly, to linger, to take his time.

Time was far more precious than awards these days.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed on, letting out a moan as the first orb breached his hole, a bright and perfect stretch. He pulled back out, dragging the air from his lungs with it, then thrust back in, eager to feel it again. Soon, it was not enough, and he pushed in more, pushed in deeper, over a second knot and a third, each closer and better than the last. Adam savored the slick and burning slide as the dildo filled and left his body. With each press in, he went deeper, testing, tentative strokes that stretched and burned.

Then, it nudged him there. "Fuck," he breathed, electric heat shooting through his spine and coiling tight within his belly. He thrust in again, unable to resist teasing that spot, letting out shameless, broken groans as he pushed back on the dildo, craving even more. His heart pounded, heavy pulses sending need throughout his veins, urgent, heady need that made his muscles clench and body shake, getting closer, ever closer.

Time could fuck itself, he thought, distantly, and wrapped a quaking hand around his cock. Might do it some good.

With a hand upon his dick and the other thrusting the dildo in deep, he let go, finding a fast and shattered rhythm, jerking frantically, fucking mercilessly. His hips bucked against the air, thighs trembling, unable to hold back. His eyes clenched shut, and he moaned loud and long, cursing and praising everything and with every raspy breath. He was so close, so agonizingly close, but still so far his eyes watered and nerves begged and brain pleaded with every slide of skin on skin and the slick and knotted glass. Somehow, he found the strength for more, overtaxed nerves running on pure want alone, and he slammed the toy in deep.

Release hit like a shock, come spurting hard and wet over his fist and belly before he could think, vision bursting white behind his eyelids. Moaning loud and long, he arched off the bed, dildo falling from his hand as pleasure stole his senses and control.

Too soon, it was over, and he fell back against the sheets, spent and boneless, mind a pleasant haze. His lips curled in a lazy smile, and he stared up at the ceiling, exhausted and existing. Content. Perfectly content, the best way he could have ended his day.

Carefully, he pulled the dildo from his body, wincing at the surprising, empty jolt of its absence, and laid it reverently aside. He'd deal with it properly later, he told himself. For now, he could just be.

Edited at 2011-07-12 02:50 am (UTC)
Jul. 12th, 2011 04:00 am (UTC)
FILL: Glittering Gold

Glittering Gold
Jul. 12th, 2011 04:08 am (UTC)
FILLED: Giving Voice (1/10) Adam/Brad Friendship
It starts when Brad gets Adam on the phone after his second sold-out international tour. “You sound beat,” Brad says, taking in the scratchy quality of Adam’s normally smooth voice. Brad’s heard Adam after seven-times-a-week-for-months performances of Wicked, and while a worldwide tour is physically demanding, Brad knows Adam’s limits.

“I am,” Adam responds with a little laugh. “I’m just going to take it easy for a few days, try and adjust to being in a single time zone for more than a couple of days at a time. But that last flight from Hong Kong really kicked my ass.” Brad can hear a cabinet opening and closing, the clinking of a mug and spoon, and can clearly envision Adam moving through his kitchen, the accoutrements for tea spread out on the counter. “You know how your body knows how long it has to hang on before it can shut down for awhile? I think mine’s about to hibernate.”

“Well, call me when it wakes up, because we have some serious catch-up partying to do.”


A week passes before Brad emerges from his seemingly never-ending stream of projects and realizes Adam hasn’t called him. Hitting Adam’s name on his phone, Brad barely waits for ‘hello’ before saying, “You know I’m so used to you being gone now that I don’t think about calling you every day. I’m counting on you to do your part in this relationship too, you know.”

Adam laughs, the bright sound coming through the receiver a little muffled. “Hello to you too, Bradley.”

Brad frowns. “Are you done hibernating yet? ‘Cause gotta be honest, it doesn’t really sound like it.”

He can almost hear the pout from Adam’s end of the line. “It’s just a little cold, I’ll be over it soon. Just tired and a sore throat, no big deal.”

Brad almost lets it go, but there’s a roughness to Adam’s voice that’s a noticeable decline from the last time they spoke. “You’ve had that for over a week, have you seen a doctor?”

There’s a dramatic sigh. “Yes, Mom. A couple days ago. I told you, it’s just some cold, God knows what I came in contact with in Asia. He told me to take it easy, rest my voice.”

“Then what are you doing on the phone with me, bitch?” He feels better about it already.

Adam laughs. “You talk so much I don’t have to, bitch.”


Brad’s composing an email to his new fashion contributor for WeYuMe, trying to decide how to tactfully say that Lady Gaga’s contribution to pop culture was so three years ago, when his phone vibrates against his desk. Checking the screen, he answers: “Alisan, baby, what’s up?”

“Brad, hey,” she says, voice a little low. “Listen, could you do me a favor?”

“Well that depends on what it is,” he teases. “I’d love to be the father of your children, but…”

She snorts a laugh. “No, you ass. I need you to come over to Adam’s.”

“Ooookay…” Brad frowns at his laptop screen. “Ali, I’d love to hang out, but I have a ton of shit to do-“

“Brad, please.” He could hear her inhale. “You know he’s been sick, right? The doctor just called, they got some lab results back, and he’s got a bad infection in his throat.”

The playfulness leaves him instantly. “Oh… what-“

“I’d stay, but I have this meeting with a producer in an hour and Adam will kill me if I miss it, but I don’t want him to be alone right now. Will you come?”

“It’s that bad?” Brad finds himself chewing on his thumbnail and makes himself stop, instead saving the draft of his email and closing his laptop.

“I don’t know. Hopefully not, but it doesn’t seem like they really know much right now. They’re putting him on some new antibiotics.”

“Okay. I’ll be there in…” Brad checks his watch. “…thirty minutes. Where’d they call in the prescription? I’ll pick it up.”
Jul. 12th, 2011 04:18 am (UTC)
Re: FILLED: Giving Voice (2a/10) Adam/Brad Friendship
It’s really closer to forty-five minutes before he arrives, and Alisan meets him on Adam’s front porch, giving him a kiss in thanks before hurrying off to her car. Brad gives a perfunctory knock before letting himself in, calling out, “Adam! Your drug dealer’s here!”

Adam appears around the corner and rolls his eyes when Brad shakes the little white paper bag from the pharmacy. “I’m fine, you know,” he says, grimacing a little as his voice rasps. “Alisan’s just being a mother hen.”

Brad takes in Adam’s appearance with a glance: loose sweats and tee, no makeup, hair covered by a beanie. Classic ‘I don’t give a shit’ Adam. “Oh good, so you aren’t going to throw yourself off the hillside,” Brad replies brightly. “That’s perfect, because there’s a new recipe I want to try out, and your kitchen’s way better than mine.”

Adam gives him a put-upon look and gestures toward the kitchen. “Make yourself at home,” he says dryly, but he follows Brad in and sits down at the bar, watching as Brad begins to unpack the ingredients he brought with him.

He starts in on fixing the soup, some Asian-Indian fusion thing, going easy on the spices. As he cooks, he keeps up a constant stream of chatter - the website, the screenplay, this play he saw in a tiny theatre but was SO good, it looks like that project with Jane might finally happen, and has he seen Riff yet ‘cause that boy has GROWN.

Adam mostly looks like he’s listening, though Brad observes him staring into empty space more than once, the corners of his mouth turned down and a little crease between his brows. When the soup is done, Brad prepares two bowls, and places one in front of Adam. Adam starts a little, looking a bit caught, but Brad just smiles and pulls up the bar stool next to him.

The soup is pretty delicious, if Brad does say so himself, and it would be even better when allowed the full effect of the spices the recipe called for. He watches Adam out of the corner of his eye; sees the wince as Adam swallows the first spoonful.

“Too spicy?” he asks, only to have Adam shake his head.

“It’s great. Just… hot.” He shrugs a little and fiddles with his spoon, stirring the soup around and around.

Brad leaves him alone, continuing his own meal while Adam waits for the soup to cool. But by the time Brad is finished, Adam’s only managed a few more spoonfuls, and pushes the bowl away when Brad stands. Brad clears their places without comment, and shoos Adam away when he tries to assist with the cleanup. Adam smiles at him and brushes a kiss along his hairline before stepping out.
Jul. 12th, 2011 04:20 am (UTC)
Re: FILLED: Giving Voice (2b/10) Adam/Brad Friendship
Brad makes quick work of the kitchen and puts the leftovers in the fridge, then goes to look for Adam. He finds him in the great room, and Brad leans against the doorframe, watching. Adam’s standing in front of the floor-length window, silhouetted against a view of Los Angeles at dusk. The scene is striking, and Brad finds himself distracted for a moment: the last of the light refracting off the haze, causing the city to glow pink, laid out at Adam’s feet. He allows himself a smile, finding it apropos - with all that has happened in the past year, it seems the whole world is Adam’s.

The quiet is broken by a ragged breath, and Brad returns his attention to Adam, in time to see him lift a shaking hand and push it through his hair, the beanie falling unnoticed to the ground. It is a gesture Brad knows well, an anxious tic, and concern wells up as Adam leans his forehead against the window.

Straightening, Brad enters the room, not bothering to be quiet about it. Adam rolls his head against the glass to watch Brad approach, misery and weariness now painted on his features. Reaching out, Brad takes Adam’s hand in his and stills it between his palms. “You’re going to be fine, you know,” he says quietly, sure of his words, making certain Adam sees it in his eyes. “I can tell you feel like shit right now. But let your body do its thing, okay, you've been beating it up for months so it's taking revenge. Just don't get in its way; it won't be forever.”

Adam stares back at him for a moment, eyes damp but without tears; then he draws a shaky breath and straightens, scrubbing his other hand over his face. “Yeah,” he whispers, voice dry as the desert. “Just… hate not being able to sing.” He grimaces. “Not being able to talk.”

There’s a joke to be made there, but Brad refrains, instead drawing Adam into a hug. “I know, hon.”

Adam leans into him for a moment, absorbing the comfort, before straightening and giving Brad a small but genuine smile. “Thanks,” he mouths, and Brad smiles at him.

“Now, I know you were, like, Gaga’s biggest fanboy, but will you help me explain to someone that she is not God’s gift to fashion anymore?”

Brad feels a sudden pinch at his waist and shrieks with surprise, then twists away from Adam’s grasp and escapes to the den, giggling.
Jul. 12th, 2011 04:25 am (UTC)
Re: FILLED: Giving Voice (3/10) Adam/Brad Friendship
Brad carries on, daily life its normal inundation of random and interesting things, but he finds Adam in his thoughts time and again. He pulls out his iPhone and texts: ‘How you feeling today, baby? Are the meds kicking the ass of the Cold of Doom?’

The reply isn’t immediate, and Brad’s immersed in YouTube when his phone vibrates. ‘Haha, working on it. Catching up on my DVR.’

Brad smirks and shoots off, ‘You aren’t still wanking to my ep of Torchwood, are you?’

‘In ur dreams, smartass’

Grinning, Brad turns off the screen, feeling better.


The next day, Brad texts again: ‘What are you up to today?’ He’s not wanting to be overbearing, but still feels the need to check up. Along with Alisan, and Leila, and God knows how many other people… He rolls his eyes at himself. Adam’s going to see right through him.

Again, there isn’t an immediate response, but this time it nags at Brad, causing a little knot of tension to form in his chest as the minutes tick by. He distracts himself with his Twitter feed, finds a cool quote to post on his blog, but can’t keep his eye from catching on his dormant phone every few minutes.

Two hours pass, and Brad’s debating just calling, nevermind that Adam can’t really talk, when he gets the return text: ‘Sry. Napping.’

He considers being relieved, but checks the time: barely noon. Adam’s a night owl for sure, but a nap already? ‘Didn’t mean to wake you,’ he replies, though he knows he did no such thing. ‘Is Leila there taking care of you?’

Another five minutes pass, and Brad’s frowning at his phone when the screen lights up again. ‘She’s in SF with frends. Can sleep in peace.’

The wrongness of that registers, and Brad finds himself dialing Alisan. “Have you seen Adam lately?” he demands as soon as she answers.

“What? No, not since I saw you, but he texted me yesterday, he was fine. Still sick, but fine.” He can hear her frown. “Why?”

“I haven’t either, and I don’t know, his texts feel off. Did you know Leila’s not in town?”

“No…” He can hear her voice rising a little, and wants to kick himself for worrying her. “Oh God, do you think he’s okay? I’m at work, but I can ask about taking the rest of the day off-“

“No, no,” Brad says, trying to project calm at her. “I’ll go. I’m sure I’m overreacting. He’s fine, just still not feeling great.”

“Call me and let me know,” she says, the tension in her voice not dropping a bit.

“Promise,” he says, and hangs up.
Jul. 12th, 2011 04:31 am (UTC)
Re: FILLED: Giving Voice (4/10) Adam/Brad Friendship
Adam’s house is predictably quiet when Brad lets himself in, and he only does a perfunctory check of the den before heading straight to the master bedroom. When he pushes the door open, it’s dark, the only light filtering in through the still-drawn curtains. “Adam?” Brad says softly, not wanting to startle him, but there’s no response from the lump tucked up under the bedcovers.

He must be asleep, Brad thinks, and pads quietly to the side of the bed.

Adam’s wrapped himself tightly in the duvet, only his face barely peeking out from the puffy black down. The contrast to his pale face is stark, as is the dark hair plastered to his forehead. Frowning, Brad presses his fingers to Adam’s forehead, almost recoiling at the heat radiating from his skin.

“Adam,” he says, keeping his voice soft, but the urgency threads through it anyway. “Adam, wake up.” There’s no response, and Brad’s beginning to notice the uneven quality of his breathing, dragging and catching on the inhale. “Adam!” He reaches out and shakes him a little, then starts working the comforter away from Adam’s overheated skin. “Wake up, bitch, or I’m gonna call Perez and sell him every last one of your secrets -“

He gets Adam’s arm free, sees the t-shirt clinging damply to Adam’s skin. A soft whine comes from Adam, and he curls his arm in tighter to his body, missing the stolen warmth. “Oh thank fuck,” Brad says, returning his attention to Adam’s face. “Open your eyes, Adam, or by God I’m gonna kill you.”

Adam’s face scrunches up in discomfort, but then pale eyes are blinking at Brad, and he shivers. “Cold,” he rasps, wincing at the sound, trying to curl himself deeper into the mattress.

“You’re burning up!” Brad exclaims, trying not to raise his voice. “You need to see a doctor, what are you even thinking?”

“App’ntment tomorrow,” Adam says, muffled.

“Fuck that,” Brad declares. “We’re going to the hospital.”

Adam makes a noise of protest.

“We’re not fighting about this.” Brad pauses, something else striking him. “Have you been eating or drinking since I saw you last?” He has a feeling he knows the answer. Adam’s guilty look confirms it. “Yeah, I thought so. You can’t eat, drink, or breathe; you’re going.” He yanks the rest of the covers off the bed, ignoring Adam’s yelp of surprise, and finds Adam’s house shoes tucked under the bed. “Can you walk still or do I have to find a way to carry you?”
Jul. 12th, 2011 05:36 am (UTC)
Re: FILLED: Giving Voice (5/10) Adam/Brad Friendship
Once they arrive at Cedars-Sinai, Brad’s forced to wait while Adam is treated; he busies himself by calling Alisan and convincing her she doesn’t have to leave work early, and poking around in the hospital gift shop. He debates calling Leila, feeling strongly as though he ought to, but concludes that it isn’t his right to make that decision for Adam.

It’s a few hours before he’s permitted to go in and see Adam, who’s been admitted and settled into a private room. Every employee he encounters is discreet and professional, and he sends out a thank-you to the universe for hospitals familiar with celebrities.

He’s escorted to Adam’s room, and he lets himself in, closing the door quietly behind him. Adam’s sitting up in the bed, gaze directed out the window, barely reacting as Brad approaches. Brad bites his lip; Adam looks terrible, his face pale and marred with stress lines, his breath ragged. He’s got an oxygen tube resting against his face, which Brad is grateful for, and two IVs are hanging up, the fluid being slowly fed into Adam’s veins. But the fever seems to have broken, as Adam isn’t shivering anymore, and his hand is dry when Brad reaches out and takes it.

Adam finally turns his head towards Brad, and Brad gives him a small smile. “Hey,” he says quietly, perching on the edge of the bed. “Feeling any better?”

Adam shrugs and brings up his other hand to hold his forefinger and thumb close together, indicating ‘a little.’

Brad squeezes his hand and says, “I got something for you.” He reaches into his bag and pulls out a small notebook, the cover exploding with color and carrying a hummingbird motif. Adam looks at it and then up at Brad, giving him a wry look. “Yeah, I know, they’re my favorites, but they remind me of you, too.” He turned and shifted to sit alongside Adam, careful not to disturb any of the tubes attached to his body. “See, hummingbirds are bright and vibrant and always going at top speed.” He gives Adam a significant look, and is pleased to see Adam’s lips twitch in response. “But when hummingbirds rest, they have to stop completely. Their legs are so short they can’t walk, so they can either be still, or fly at these incredible speeds.” He raises his arm and puts it around Adam’s shoulders, tugging him closer. “You have to be still right now. To rest and rebuild that energy. But you’ll fly again soon.”

Adam is quiet, his gaze trained on the notebook, expression distant. Brad doesn’t say any more, but remains next to him, an arm around his broad shoulders.
Jul. 12th, 2011 05:38 am (UTC)
Re: FILLED: Giving Voice (6/10) Adam/Brad Friendship
Adam is released from the hospital a couple of days later, his illness finally brought under control by the latest medication, though Brad wonders if perhaps the sickness has just run its course.  According to Adam’s texts, they still weren’t sure what it was, concluding that it must have been something he picked up on his international travels.  

Leila had returned home abruptly after hearing about her oldest’s decline in health; Brad wasn’t sure how Adam had told her, but he knew he was glad to have not been around for that conversation.  

Brad waits until Adam has been home for a day before going over, bearing a gift of some new CDs.  Adam greets him with a small smile, which falters a little when he sees the albums Brad offers.  Brad frowns a little; Adam’s never been a snob about new music.  “If you hate them, you can always use them as coasters, you know,” he says, knowing he wasn’t quite able to keep the confusion out of his voice.  “I won’t be offended.”

Adam smiles again and takes the CDs, brushing a kiss against Brad’s cheek.
In Brad’s experience, Adam is one of the easiest people in the world to hang out with, but even he has to admit it’s difficult when Adam can’t speak, and as the afternoon unfolds Adam’s subdued demeanor doesn’t improve.  Adam’s mood is contagious, and Brad’s confusion grows, when finally Adam reaches for something on the side table.  Brad sees that it’s the hummingbird notebook, and Adam pulls a pen from the spine and turns past the first several pages to find a blank one.  Then he pauses, fingers turning white where they grip the pen, before writing swiftly: ‘They don’t know if I’ll get my voice back.’

There’s a beat while Brad takes that in, feeling the blood drain out of his face, his body going utterly still.  “What do you mean?” 

‘The infection…’ Adam’s hand pauses, and Brad looks up: Adam’s focused hard on the paper, lip caught tightly between his teeth.  He crosses out the words with a quick gesture, then writes: ‘Scar tissue is building up in my throat.’  His pen slows.  ‘They don’t think my voice will be the same’.  His hand shakes, the last words almost illegible, and Brad’s breath catches.  He takes Adam’s hands in his, the notebook and pen falling to the floor, then gets up on his knees and wraps his arms around Adam’s neck, hugging him fiercely.  “Oh, honey,” he breathes, a tremor in his own voice, and Adam’s arms close around him, pulling him close, holding him so tightly he can barely breathe.  
Jul. 12th, 2011 05:40 am (UTC)
Re: FILLED: Giving Voice (6b/10) Adam/Brad Friendship
Brad squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his face against Adam’s temple, barely able to restrain his own fear and keep his focus on Adam.  This was nothing short of devastating; from the time Brad had met him, Adam’s sense of self had been irrevocably tied up in his voice, nearly every dream and goal orbiting around the talent he had cultivated since childhood.  Brad’s own memories were infused with it - mornings of Adam singing in the shower; cheering Adam on at so many tiny clubs; the one time he’d tried to make Adam sing in bed, which only resulted in them laughing until they cried.  And over the past several years, seeing Adam finally achieving the success he’d striven for, that voice celebrated and honored like it deserved, Adam’s goals of headlining tours, a house in the Hills, and providing for his mother all materializing around him.  

And now it might all fade away.

Adam’s shoulders rise and fall under Brad’s arms, his breathing rapid and harsh, but there is no tremor of a sob, no tears soaking into Brad’s shirt.  Brad wants desperately to say something, but there are no words that can make this better, nothing he can do except let Adam cling to him.  He presses kisses to Adam’s hairline, temple, cheek; holds him close.  Terms of endearment from a time long past rise to his lips, but Brad holds them back, knowing they won’t help.  

Finally, Adam’s grip loosens a little, and Brad relaxes against him, staying close but no longer feeling as if he’s trying to hold Adam together.  He feels Adam’s lips rest against the top of his head, and releases a long breath.  Now that the initial shock is over, his curiosity is coming out again: how likely is it that this is permanent?  What can Adam be doing to limit the damage?  Is there some kind of therapy he can do to retrain his voice?  But Adam still feels fragile, and if the answers aren’t good, he doesn’t want to send Adam on another spiral.  

They both startle when the front door opens, Leila’s voice and the rustling of shopping bags meeting their ears.  Brad slides out of Adam’s lap, and Adam stands, shaking himself free from the tension and running a hand across his face.  He looks remarkably composed as he heads out of the room, Brad lagging behind, still feeling the strain of the last half an hour.  

“Hey, sweetie,” he hears Leila say, and turns the corner to see Adam smile at his mother, bending to kiss her cheek and take the grocery bags from her hands.  “Oh, I have that, Adam, sit down!”  But Adam dodges her smack and takes the bags into the kitchen.  Her exasperated smile tells Brad as clearly as words that she has no idea what Adam’s facing.  “Brad, honey, good to see you, are you staying for dinner?”

He’s not sure he’s up for maintaining a facade, but Adam’s looking at him hopefully, and he caves.  “Sure, but only if you let me help.”  
Jul. 12th, 2011 05:41 am (UTC)
Re: FILLED: Giving Voice (7/10) Adam/Brad Friendship
A few days later Adam holds what he terms the “Still-not-fit-to-be-seen-in-public-but-want-to-see-my-friends” dinner party, where the people who Brad privately thinks of as the “inner circle” all descend upon Adam’s house with the singular focus of celebrating their friendship. Everyone present, aside from a couple of significant others, have known Adam since before he was famous, and the level of comfort and familiarity amongst them all is unsurpassed.

Though Adam’s voice is still rough, he’s regained enough of it to converse, and Brad watches him smile and hug as he greets loved ones too long unseen. Much is made of Adam’s tour, his return home, his subsequent illness and recovery, and Brad is reminded that for many of them, this is their first time seeing Adam since he returned from the road.

Adam seems truly happy, and Brad’s relieved to see his eyes clear of anxiety, focused instead on catching up on the news, and exclaiming over pictures of rapidly-growing godkids. The alcohol flows freely, and soon they’re all seated around the dining table with Adam at the head, the image of a huge, diverse, happy family. Yet it doesn’t sit quite right with Brad; everyone’s too happy, too normal, and he concludes all too quickly that these people that Adam calls ‘family’ don’t have a clue what he’s going through.

Sometime during dessert Brad notices that Adam’s stopped talking so much, and when he speaks his voice is weaker and prone to breaking. Brad watches as Adam’s smiles become strained, his eyes preoccupied, and Brad wonders how much longer Adam can keep up his facade.
Jul. 12th, 2011 05:44 am (UTC)
Author's Note
I promise the rest tomorrow... literally too tired to keep posting tonight! Also, real author's notes tomorrow. :)
Jul. 12th, 2011 07:01 am (UTC)
Re: FILL: A Perfect Match - Adam/Tommy - 3/3
Oh I loved this. Loved how Adam was the one to bring him back out of his shell. Nicely done <333
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