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Blake’s not really sure what the difference is between CMA Male Vocalist of the Year and CMA Male Entertainer of the Year, except Carson harks on it every time he announces Blake’s name and now Adam’s eyes are glued to the stage as if entertainer really means something awesome and Blake feels, for the first time, that maybe being an entertainer is better than being a voice. Maybe it has something to do with the way Brad Paisley has always owned every stage he’s ever been on, cowboy hat and band and guitar and all, and Blake’s having a bit of an identity crisis, right here in the gimmicky red chair that he treats like a throne, and he has to rush his first lines a bit because he almost misses his cue.
He hasn’t felt like this since he and Brad were young boys on tour in Greyhound buses, sweat piling up and pulling pranks on each other because that’s what little boys do when they’re trying to make it in a music business that they never truly think will accept them. They drank too much and sang too truthfully, full of nervous energy on- and off- stage. Just the other day, in fact, Blake had admitted to Dia that he has lost that somewhere, that feeling of insecurity as if the stage owned him, where now he feels like a king every time he picks up that mic.
Except not tonight. Tonight Adam’s eyes are glued to Brad’s guitar, and Blake feels wrong. He feels too big for the stage, sort of like a lumberjack, hunched over and uncomfortable in his boots, gripping the mic in his right hand as if he might drop it if he doesn’t squeeze as tightly as possible. He’s aware of every movement he makes, every note he sings, and the music isn’t flowing at all. He hopes no one notices, ‘cause this is Dia’s night, and he’d hate himself if he did even the smallest thing to take attention away from her.
The whole thing is ridiculous, anyway. Adam always enjoys himself on Live nights, and Blake should be flattered that Adam’s so into a song that Blake wrote half of, for fucks sake. By the end of the night, they’re all a little scared by Cee Lo’s warrior uniform, anyway, and Blake’s convinced himself that Adam’s forgotten all about Brad’s performance when he leaves the stage and turns the corner to their dressing rooms.
And they’re there. Brad’s legs are braced, arms crossed across his chest, that stance that Blake has seen him use in a thousand bars in a thousand small Southern towns and Blake knows how this ends. And Adam’s buying into the whole thing, his own arms crossed across his chest, hip pressed against the wall, looking cool and calm and everything Blake doesn’t feel right now. He takes a moment to close his eyes and curse himself for having the awesome idea to bring Brad on the show, before taking a step forward and grinning at them both.
“Hey boys.”
“Hey.” Adam pushes off the wall, grasping Blake’s hand and pulling him into a hug. Adam’s body is warm against his, lithe and sweaty from the lights on the stage and his face is still caked in stage make-up that rubs off against Blake’s vest, but it’s not enough.
“I see you’ve met Brad.”
And Adam grins. Fucking grins. “Man, he’s telling me some stories.”
“Rotting chicken? That’s his favorite to tell.” Adam’s eyes are wet with laughter and Brad’s smirking at him and Blake just shakes his head. “Don’t think I don’t have stories of my own to tell.”
“Let’s hear one, old man.” Brad is smirking and Adam’s eyes sparkle as they dance back and forth between them.
“Houston?” Blake lets the memory sink in for a moment, until Brad actually blushes a little bit and Blake turns to Adam, all feigned innocence and true regret for one of his oldest friends. “We were playing at a festival in Houston and it had been a long day, and Brad here was uptight, yelling at the stage hands and our guitarist asked me to mellow him out some.” Adam’s eyes are wide, listening completely to Blake, and Blake feels a bit self-conscious for the first time in years. “I slipped some whiskey into his cup and he spit it out on stage.”
“I was a bit surprised, that’s all.”
“You’re interrupting the worst part.” Blake glares at him and Brad nods for him to continue. “He forgot to wipe up the stage and when he slipped, his jeans split and he finished the set with his boxers peeking out the back. Made all the young ladies in the crowd quite happy.”
“No?” Adam doubles over in laughter and Brad laughs, too, which isn’t really fair, but Blake consoles himself by resting a hand on Adam’s back to make sure that he’s still breathing.
Brad shakes his head, still a little breathless from laughing. “I need something to drink if we’re gonna keep this up. Blake and I’re heading over to a party at my producer’s. You wanna come with?”
Adam glances at Blake and it’s almost asking permission and Blake doesn’t move his hand from Adam’s back as Adam nods. “Yeah, yeah, that sounds great. I just gotta wash this shit off,” he motions to the make-up, “and check in with Javier. And I know Blake needs to go do whatever crying and hugging with Dia that they do.” Adam waves him off, but he’s grinning and winking, as if he knows that it’s all true and he doesn't care how emotional Blake keeps getting on national television and Blake sort of wants nothing more than to push Adam into his dressing room and kiss him, but they don’t do that. They dance around each other and they fuck each other with their eyes, but Adam also flirts with Brad and Christina, so Blake can’t just do things like kiss him in the hallway.
And, anyway, Dia’s waiting and Blake loves her, so he wraps an arm around Brad’s shoulders and makes sure that they walk down the hall together, away from Adam’s dressing room, where Blake’s sure Adam’s gonna start undressing, since he’s still wearing suit pants and Adam never wears anything but jeans for longer than he has to. Blake can’t get Brad away from that situation fast enough.
“You’re ridiculous, man.” Brad elbows him and Blake drops his arm from around his shoulders, choosing to ignore how well Brad knows him.
“You gonna come congratulate Dia? She’d love to see you again – she and Xenia won’t shut up ‘bout you since they met you.” Blake rolls his eyes. The girls had met Brad a couple of weeks ago when they had accompanied Blake to Cincinnati for a concert, and they had both been wide-eyed and awestruck at meeting him.
“That’s ‘cause I’m awesome.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Blake holds open the door to the contestants’ dressing room. It’s crowded, full of families and friends and they have to push their way in, but Blake catches Dia’s eye in an instant and then he’s wrapping her in his arms and he forgets everything about Adam and Brad and anything that isn’t the overwhelming pride that brings tears to his eyes every time he thinks about her.
“You were wonderful tonight.”
“Thanks.” She pulls back long enough to wipe her eyes, then lets him continue hugging her.
“Whatever happens tomorrow, you’re gonna take the world by storm. You hear me?” She sniffles in to his neck and he pulls back, holding her by her shoulders. “You hear me?” He repeats, smiling and crying and she laughs, brushing her thumbs at the corners of her eyes.
“Yeah.” She’s overwhelmed and Blake just loves her. “Thank you, Blake.”
“Hey, proud papa, I want a hug, too.” Brad’s there, and Blake hands Dia off. They’re hugging and laughing, and Blake doesn’t feel even the littlest bit jealous.
That should mean something, it really should, but he reminds himself, again, that this isn’t his night and he busies himself with catching Javier’s youngest girl as she tries to run past him and out the door. Blake pulls her into his arms. She’s giggling, hyper on candy and adrenaline and all the people showering praise on her father, and the whole room seems to be jumping with energy.
***
Blake’s still high on the show a couple of hours and a few drinks later. They’re at one of those ridiculous mansions somewhere in Malibu, the type of house whose entranceway is big and overwhelming and the only person Blake can picture really owning a place like this is Cee Lo or maybe Justin Bieber, if Adam’s stories about the kid are even half as good as he makes them out to be.
The party’s full of all kinds of high-rollers, the kind who own studios and produce songs and whose names stay out of the papers ‘cause they’re smart enough not to show their faces on a stage anywhere. Blake keeps reminding himself that he should be mingling, making connections, whatever, but he’s feeling happy right here, perched on the seat next to Adam and feeding off of his energy. Adam has this way of telling stories, of sitting on the edge of his chair and waving his hands and using his entire body to laugh and it’s intoxicating.
Blake only pulls his thoughts away to check iTunes periodically, feeling giddy as Dia moves further and further up the charts, until she surpasses both Honey Bee and Moves Like Jagger and Blake elbows Adam in the side.
“Huh?” Adam asks, leaning over Blake to peer at his phone.
“Told ya she’d beat y’all.”
Adam rests his hand on Blake’s thigh to keep himself steady as he reads through the Top 10. “Javier’s right behind.”
“Yep.”
“They’re awesome.” Adam grins. “Wasn’t lying when I said Javier’s better than me.”
“He is.”
“Whatever. We sounded awesome on Man in the Mirror.” Adam presses down on Blake’s leg to push himself upright, and Blake’s leg burns as he tries to forget how hot Adam is when he’s dressed all in black like some sort of R&B Johnny Cash.
Blake feels a pair of eyes on him, and he glances up to see Brad eyeing him from across the room. Brad motions towards the balcony with his red plastic cup and Blake rolls his eyes, but follows him out and when he gets on the other side of the glass door it’s hot as hell, even though it’s nearing midnight.
“Dude, I was having a good time. Why you gotta drag me out here?”
Brad leans his back against the railing, eyeing Blake up and down. “How are you two not fucking yet?”
“Language, Brad. We’re not in Nashville anymore.”
“Whatever.” Brad rolls his eyes. “I’m in LA a lot more than you are.”
Blake sighs and leans on the railing next to him, looking out over the ocean. “Nights like this, I can’t decide if I miss Oklahoma more or less.”
“Getting used to the city, big ole country boy like you?”
“Asshole.”
“Right back atcha.” Brad takes a long sip from his cup and Blake smells whiskey and it’s not only coming from his skin. Brad lets him look at the ocean for a few more moments, before he rolls his head back and closes his eyes. “He wants it as much as you do.”
“Brad-“
“No.” Brad opens his eyes to glare at Blake. “We’ve known each other too long to do this.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout.”
Brad raises an eyebrow. “And we’ve spent way too many nights on the road for me to not know your preferences. Motel walls are thin, fucker.” Blake tenses, and Brad shakes his head. “If I cared, I’d have said something long before now.”
Blake drops his head. “I’ve never been as careful as I should.”
“Nah. What’s the point in that?”
“I don’t like hiding.”
“Never did.” Brad holds his cup out and Blake hesitates for a moment, but then he clinks it and takes a long swig of his own drink. Brad grimaces as the whiskey goes down, then smiles. “So, Adam. How come you don’t have him yet?”
Blake shakes his head. “No one has Adam.”
Brad glances back inside the glass doors, where Adam has his head thrown back in laughter, surrounded by a group of people he’s never met before. He looks back at Blake. “I don’t know. The way he looks at you- I don’t know how you haven’t jumped each other yet. It’s been months since you called me all excited about your TV gig and couldn’t talk about anything but him.”
“I know.” Blake kicks his boot against the railing, glancing over at Brad and sighing deeply. “This isn’t – Brad, it’s not like those one-night things I used to have on the road.”
“You love him.”
“I do’n know.” Brad glares at him and Blake gives a small smirk. “Yeah, I do.”
“He is beautiful.”
“Fuck you.”
“What? Can’t a guy compliment your choice in men?”
“You’re an asshole.”
The sound of the door sliding open and shut behind them makes them both turn around to see Adam jumping a little in place, grinning ruefully at them. “Got away, finally. They’re a nice group of people, but they laugh at everything. There’s no way I’m that funny.” He shakes his head, stepping up to the railing so close to Blake that their shoulders are touching.
Brad tilts his head as if to say I told you so and Blake shakes his head, but he’s grinning, too, and his heart’s beating quite a bit faster than it should for the couple of glasses he has in him. “They’re just excited to see a rockstar.”
“You’re a rockstar.”
It’s said so easy and smooth, as if Adam didn’t have to even think a moment before saying it, and Blake presses into Adam’s shoulder just a little bit. “I’m a country star. It’s different.”
“Whatever you say. You’re #9 on iTunes.”
“You’re #5.”
“Christina and I are #5.” Blake laughs and Adam tilts his head towards him, grinning all the way to his eyes, and Blake can’t do anything but grin stupidly back. “Either way, I needed some air. And it seemed like all the fun was out here, anyway.”
“Brad and I were sharing stories about the road.”
“Yeah?” Adam turns his head towards the ocean. “I always miss the road when I’m home and miss LA when I’m on the road.”
Blake laughs. “Only you could call LA home.”
“Born and raised.”
Brad laughs on the other side of Blake, and both Blake and Adam jump a little, remembering that Brad is there. “It shows.”
Adam glances around Blake to smirk at Brad. “Whatever, dude. At least I’m a rockstar.”
Brad laughs, tilting his head back and finishing his cup. “I gotta go fill up. Don’t do anything too stupid while I’m gone.” And then he’s slipping back inside and Blake doesn’t step away to use up the vacated space.
“He seems like a good guy.”
Blake nods, taking a large swig from his own cup, ‘cause suddenly it feels like this isn’t only Dia’s night and they’re all going home tomorrow and, perhaps, this is his last night, too. “We grew up together, as singers. Young men on the road, booze, tour buses-“
“Women?” Adam’s voice is low as Blake trails off, and Blake glances at him, shaking his head.
“Not really.”
“Good.”
“You?”
“What? Booze and women?” Adam raises an eyebrow and Blake just nods. “Booze, yeah. Women?” Adam shrugs. “Not so much.”
Blake swallows. “You’ve been watching Brad all night.” And he knows it’s the wrong thing to say the minute it’s out of his mouth, but he can’t stop it as Adam pushes away, downing his cup and slamming it on the railing as he turns away. Blake swallows, ‘cause this is his chance, and he’s losing it, and then Adam turns around, pushing Blake up against the railing and he seems a lot bigger than normal as he crowds into Blake’s space.
“You’re a jackass. I’ve been watching you for weeks, waiting for you to make a move, and now you accuse me of straying. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to be jealous right now.”
“I-“ Blake reaches a hand out to steady himself on Adam’s hip. “You-? Weeks-?” Blake clears his throat, trying to say something, anything, coherent, even if what comes out is a bit more accusatory than he means it to be. “You didn’t say anything.”
“Yeah, well,” Adam glances down. “I wasn’t sure you wouldn’t beat my ass.”
“Adam-“ Blake shivers, tightening his grip on Adam’s hip. “You have no idea the effect you have on me, do you?” Adam shakes his head and Blake grabs his wrist, pulling Adam’s hand between his legs and Adam’s eyes go wide when he feels Blake half-hard in his jeans. “That’s still from hours ago, when you wore a tux and sang Michael Jackson and it took everything I had not to kiss you on stage right then.”
Adam chuckles, and it’s wispy and full of longing. “Seems we’ve wasted a lot of time.”
“Seems so.” Blake clears his throat. “I’d kiss you, but there’s a glass door and a hundred people on the other side-”
Adam’s eyes go dark and he steps back. “Come with me.”
“Where?”
Adam rolls his yes. “Blake, for fucks sake, just stop arguing and follow me.”
Blake wants to protest, he really does, but he also really wants to be pressed up against Adam again, so he ignores the greetings he gets from party-goers as they pass, and he definitely ignores the thumbs up Brad is throwing him as they make it into a hallway off the main room. Adam seems to know where he’s going, the sounds of the party filtering away behind them, and then he’s pulling Blake into an empty room.
“We’re gonna fuck in some stranger’s bedroom?” It’s out before Blake can stop himself and Adam closes the door and pushes him against it.
“Guest room. And not a stranger, I know the guy who owns this place.”
“’Course you do.”
“Are we gonna keep talking about this, or-” Adam is smirking and Blake can’t take it anymore. This show has been an emotional rollercoaster, and it’s all culminating right here, right now, as he flips them, making sure that Adam’s back hits the door gently, and then he’s kissing Adam, hot and wet, and Blake had wanted it to be soft, but it’s too much for him as Adam just melts in his arms.
“Fuck, Blake,” Adam groans, catching Blake’s lower lip between his teeth and pulling.
Blake groans, pressing between Adam’s thighs and leaning down to lick behind his ear. “I know. I feel it, too.”
Adam makes a little noise, somewhere between a moan and a laugh, slipping his hands under Blake’s shirt and pressing against his lower back, holding on. “I’m glad you didn’t kick my ass.”
“Never.” Blake kisses him again, slipping a hand between them and cupping between Adam’s legs. Adam’s breath hitches and Blake drops his head to Adam’s shoulder as Adam thrusts into his palm. It’s uncoordinated and Blake’s breath smells like whiskey and Adam’s like whatever fruity vodka he was drinking, and it's the hottest thing either of them have ever done.
“More,” Adam breathes and Blake pulls back. Adam whimpers, but Blake kisses him quickly before dropping to his knees and Adam has to grip the door as his own knees give out. “Blake- Jesus-”
Blake grins as he mouths Adam’s erection through his jeans, sucking hard as his hands slip under Adam’s t-shirt. Adam’s stomach is warm to the touch, shaking as he tries to breath, and Blake takes his time exploring until Adam’s hands tangle in his hair, pressing him forward and Blake sits back on his heels. “Patience.”
Adam glares. “I don’t wanna come in my jeans.”
Blake grins, laughing. “That close?”
Adam blushes and his hips stutter forward and Blake can’t tease anymore or he’s gonna be the one coming in his pants. He fumbles a bit with Adam’s belt, his fingers shaking as if this is some stupidly momentous occasion and not him on his knees, sucking a friend off in a random dude’s house in the middle of the night. Which, of course, it’s both of those things, and Blake wants to say it, wants to say I love you, but Adam’s pupils are blown and his inner thighs are soft as Blake kisses him there, intimate and saying everything he doesn’t want to say out loud just yet.
Adam’s fingers are gentler in his hair, as if saying it back, whispering, I know, and then Blake swallows him down and Adam bucks into his throat and they both know this isn’t going to last nearly as long as they want. Adam’s already leaking down his throat and Blake presses his tongue against the head, sucking hard with a little “hmm” that has Adam stuttering into his mouth, pressing hard and Blake grasps his hips, holding him against the door and taking Adam all the way in.
“Fuck, Blake, I-” Adam’s voice is wrecked, his head pressed back against the door but his eyes on Blake the whole time, wide and dark and everything Blake’s been dreaming about. It’s too much and Blake’s almost there, too, as he takes one of his hands from Adam’s hips and sucks his index finger in alongside Adam’s dick.
He pulls it back and his finger is wet to the knuckle and Adam’s eyes open wide as he gets the idea, spreading his legs even further, opening himself for Blake. He lasts till the second knuckle is in his body before he comes down Blake’s throat with a loud cry. Blake keeps his finger there, moving it gently in and out of Adam’s body, a promise for more and next time, until Adam squirms and pulls Blake up and kisses him.
Adam lips are wet from where Adam has been biting them not to scream, and once he feels strong enough not to collapse, he switches their positions, pushing Blake back up against the door and kissing him, hard. “That was the hottest – Fuck-”
Blake chuckles, shaky and aroused, and Adam’s hand is at his belt, pushing away the buckle and flicking open the button on his fly. Blake arches his hips so that Adam can push his jeans and boxers down his thighs, his dick hot and heavy against his chest. Adam wraps his fist around it and Blake lets out a desperate whine, thrusting his hips and dripping obscenely over Adam’s fingers.
“I’ve been-“ Blake swallows, trying to warn him. “I’ve been hard for hours.”
“I know.” Adam grins. “It’s hot.” And he leans forward to kiss him, flicking his wrist, and Blake’s coming between them, his whole body shaking and trembling through it. Adam soothes him, whispering breathy little words that Blake doesn’t quite understand, till they both come to a rest, foreheads pressing together.
“Thank you,” Blake whispers and Adam chuckles.
“You did all the work.” He kisses Blake gently. “Take me home and I’ll show you what I can do.”
“Cocky.” Adam looks down at where his hand is still holding Blake’s dick in a gentle grip, covered in his come. Blake follows his eyes, chuckling. “Asshole.”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Blake groans and Adam shakes his head, kissing Blake and when he pulls away, his eyes are warm and happy.
“Take me home,” Adam whispers again, and Blake doesn’t need to be told a third time.