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When Adam gets the invite, he knows it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity, and honestly, there is only one person he wants to bring with him, besides his mom. His publicist doesn’t want to hear it; there was already a joke at the Golden Globes about their relationship, so they need to distance themselves. It takes a few weeks, but eventually they all agree to let it happen: Adam Levine will attend the Academy Awards with Blake Shelton.
“You realize what you did though,” Blake says shortly after Adam tells him the plan, laughing. “You basically asked me to Hollywood’s prom.”
“Should I book a hotel room for after?” Adam grins, pulling Blake in for a kiss. “Fair warning, the show itself goes on for like 10 hours.”
“…There’s a bar, right?”
The lead up to the event is standard; Adam is announced as a performer for the Best Song category, and Blake’s publicist scores him a presenting gig he probably wouldn’t have gotten if he wasn’t already going to be there. They figure it’s perfect camouflage for having Adam and Blake attend together. It also means they have to attend rehearsals – Blake is presenting the Best Original Song category, as it turns out; he won’t hand Adam his hypothetical Oscar (Adam’s just the voice, he didn’t have any creative input on the song), but it does mean they’re at rehearsal at the same time, laughing at the absurdity of it all.
Oscar day dawns sunny, perfect red carpet weather. They wake up, eat, Adam does yoga, Blake watches football; there’s nothing especially special about it, really, other than the perfectly tailored suits hanging in their closet, and the presence of the publicists, who show up around lunchtime and start prepping them on who to talk to, where to stand, and every other menial detail they’ll probably just forget anyway. By 4:00, they’re all dressed up and being ushered out the door; they’ve kept it simple – black tuxes, black ties, sunglasses to shield them from the already setting sun.
“I feel like a goon,” Blake says, tugging at his tie in the limo as they slowly make their way towards the theatre.
“You look gorgeous,” Adam says, and Blake responds with a smile and a quick kiss. “Thanks for doing this, by the way.” Adam says.
“Thanks for asking me,” Blake smiles. “It’s kind of a big deal, though. You and me, first big outing?”
“Ix-nay on the outing-ay,” Adam mumbles, his frustration with their situation always a sore point. It works well enough, but sometimes the bullshit, the pretending to be something they’re not, gets to him.
The red carpet is a little ridiculous; there are screaming fans brandishing pens and cell phones, hoping for a selfie or an autograph with their favourite celebrity. The press is everywhere; cameras line one side of the carpet, smaller press agents are set up further along, while the network and E’s main red carpet show command special presence on raised platforms and the balconies above. It’s sheer pandemonium; if they hadn’t been propelled along by their publicists, they probably would have still been standing at the entrance.
Adam glances over to check on Blake; if he was still uncomfortable in his tux, he didn’t show it. The guy could definitely wear a suit, even if it was weird seeing him in something other than jeans, or nothing at all. Then Blake is staring back and all they can do is grin at each other, ready to take on the storm.
They speed through the carpet fairly quickly (they manage to dodge most of the media outlets, say a quick hello to E!), then they’re inside and they only have to worry about what they have to do onstage. Blake just looks around at the opulent auditorium; you never get to see all the details on tv; Blake assumed it would be fake looking in real life, but it’s stunning. He’s glad he wore the tux.
The show starts and Adam was right, the show is exceedingly long and it’s hard to muster up a lot of enthusiasm for the more obscure categories.
“Why couldn’t you have brought me to the Golden Globes? At least there they had booze.” Blake grumbles during one commercial break.
Adam grins, reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a small, silver flask. “Got you covered cowboy.”
“Oh my god, this is why I love you!”
They take small quick sips form the flask when the cameras aren’t on them, and it does help pass the time until they have to get backstage, Adam to strap on his guitar and take his place onstage, and Blake to wait in the wings to introduce him, along with an actress he can’t quite remember the name of, but knows she was in Pitch Perfect.
The music swells, the announcer speaks, and then they’re moving towards the mic. There’s some banal awards show talk and a few lame jokes but Blake’s a good sport. Finally he gets to say “Ladies and gentlemen, performing Lost Stars from the movie ‘Begin Again’, Adam Levine.”
Blake wishes he could stay onstage to watch Adam, but he’s ushered out of the camera’s way and backstage where he watches on the monitor.
Please don't see
Just a boy caught up in dreams and fantasies
Please see me
Reaching out for someone I can't see
Take my hand, let's see where we wake up tomorrow
Best laid plans sometimes are just a one night stand
I'll be damned, Cupid's demanding back his arrow
So let's get drunk on our tears
And God, tell us the reason youth is wasted on the young
It's hunting season and the lambs are on the run
Searching for meaning
But are we all lost stars trying to light up the dark?
Blake’s chest heaves with pride and emotion; he loves the song, has since the first time he heard Adam sing it. It’s not about them, Adam had no hand in writing it, but it feels like them, sad and pleading and just a little bit hopeful. Adam’s not in his tux jacket, is performing in just his white shirt and black pants, and to Blake, he’s never looked more amazing.
The song comes to an end and Blake hangs around the stage, waiting for the applause to stop and for Adam to walk by. As he watches Adam hand his guitar off to a stagehand, Blake pulls him by the wrist into a small corner of the stage, hidden by curtains and instruments. He doesn’t even wait for Adam to catch his breath from performing, his mouth is instantly on his. It’s hot and desperate, as though they hadn’t kissed in days rather than a few hours ago. It might be a dark section of backstage, but they’re able to be together the way they need to be.
Adam pulls away first, completely out of breath and disheveled, but grinning like an idiot and Blake wants to kiss him all over again. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Blake answers. “We’d better get back. Those seat fillers are probably getting too comfy right about now.”
“And they can have the seats back right after they announce the winner,” Adam tells him. “We’re hitting the bar.”
“I KNEW THERE WAS A BAR!”