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It's a couple of days before Adam gets the news. In his defense, it's not like he sits around and Google’s Blake's life on a daily basis or anything, and he knows Blake has been busy on tour. So when his phone finally does ring and Blake's name is on the screen, it's something like four in the morning and Adam is about to spit fire for being woken up out of a dead sleep - does Blake even know what fucking time zones are? - a string of curses all ready to roll off of his tongue when he accepts the call.
"Shelton, what the ever loving fu--"
"Adam."
That's all it takes for Adam to know something isn't right because the way Blake says his name is so completely wrong, it makes him sit straight up in bed, the sleepy fog in his head clearing like it was never there in the first place.
"Blake?"
All Adam can hear for a few moments is ragged breathing, and he's so thoroughly freaked out in those few seconds, he can't even think. Then Blake says, "he's gone," and Adam's stomach drops, twists, and before he can asks who, even though he already has an idea, Blake adds, "my dad died."
The words are barely out of Blake's mouth before Adam is sliding out of bed, the phone cradled against his shoulder as he pulls on a pair of pants. "Jesus, Blake. I hate saying sorry in these situations because it doesn't mean shit, but god, I am so sorry, man." He grabs a sweatshirt and slips outside onto the balcony for privacy in case Anne wakes up, not caring that it's the middle of January and cold out, even for L.A. "What can I do? Blake, tell me. Name it and I'll do it."
"I don't know," Blake says. "Nothin', really. There's nothin' anyone can do right now."
It feels like a kick in the gut, the way Blake's voice breaks and how it sounds like he's trying so hard to fight it. Adam hates that, hates that Blake probably thinks he has to be the strong one and hold it together for the rest of his family. He hates all the miles between them because all he wants to do right now is shake Blake's ridiculously big shoulders and tell him that it’ll be okay. More than anything, he hates that he can’t just hug the shit out of Blake and not let go.
"When's the funeral?" Adam asks softly, and when Blake says tomorrow, he's a little surprised. "Do you want me there? I'll be on a plane in an hour if you want me to be there."
"I--" Blake pauses, breathes. "I do. But I can't… I think it would be too hard, maybe. I don't know how I would…"
"No, I understand," he replies because he does. It makes sense. There’d be too many emotions running high, too easy to slip up; too personal. "You know I was just offering as a friend, right? Not as…"
"God, Adam, I know. Either way, I want… I'm an ass for what I want right now, but I appreciate the offer, alright? Just, thank you."
There is something so universally wrong with Blake being this broken, it makes the knots in Adam's stomach pull tighter with every shaky breath he hears him take, with every waver of his voice. He knows how Blake feels about his family - how close they are, and how emotional Blake can be. He still can't talk about his brother without choking up, even after all these years. Now there's this. Blake wears his heart on his sleeve more often than not, regardless of how many people actually see it, and Adam knows this has to be killing him.
"Hey," Adam says after a few lingering moments of listening to Blake struggle on the other end of the line. "You know you don't have to hold back with me, right? You can let it all go with me. You can let it out and still be strong, Blake."
Nothing happens at first. He's about to check the screen, see if maybe he lost the call, lost reception because he doesn't even hear Blake breathing for a few minutes. He does hear him again, though, and Adam has to back up, sinking down onto a lounge chair because Blake sounds so fucking wrecked it makes something inside of Adam shatter. He closes his eyes against the sting, ignores how his bare feet have gone numb, the way his body is shivering, and just listens. It's so brutally raw and cuts down to his very core; he's never seen Blake cry, but hearing him now makes it easy to imagine because he bets Blake cries exactly how he laughs. The way it transforms every part of his face - eyes, mouth, cheeks, even those ridiculous dimples - so pure and addictive. Blake laughs and everyone in the room laughs; Blake cries and well… Adam runs a hand across his own eyes, and aches to reach through the phone and touch, hold, comfort somehow.
There's no way to keep track of how long the breakdown lasts, but it has to be a good ten minutes, at least, before there's a heavy sniff and Blake choking out a wet, "oh god." He sniffs again and clears his throat, probably wiping his face from the rustling sound coming through the phone. "God, I'm sor--"
"Dude," Adam interrupts, "if you apologize right now, I am going to punch you in the head the next time I see you, I swear on every bottle of Bacardi you own."
It earns a weak chuckle from Blake that sounds absolutely nothing like the laughter Adam is used to hearing from him, but it's something. It's a start. "You're really not scary at all, Adam."
"You're terrified of me, what are you talking about?"
"Right. You keep telling yourself that."
Adam feels himself smile despite everything, and he leans back in the chair, curling in on himself a little. This time the silence doesn't feel quite as heavy, and as he listens to Blake breathe, it isn't quite as ragged and shaky as it had been before. Adam counts that as another very small step forward.
"What can I do for you?" he breaks the silence to ask again. "What do you need?"
"Hell, I don't--" Blake starts, then pauses for a beat. "You. This. Just this."
"This? I can do this. You got me as long as you need me, Blake, you know that."
"Yeah," Blake says with a sigh, low and heartfelt. "I know."
***
They stayed on the phone that night until dawn was breaking, the sky beginning to get that first hint of burnt orange from the rising sun. Adam ended up back inside with his phone plugged into a charger before it died, and he didn't hang up until one of their lingering silences turned into Blake falling asleep on the other end. It was okay, though, because Adam was sure he wouldn't have felt okay hanging up otherwise. The night of the funeral they were back on the phone again, and despite Blake's protests, Adam kept him on the line. Hanging up would have felt like letting Blake down somehow, and he couldn’t do that. There was no way he could do that.
"Hey, you don't have to talk. About it or anything else. I get it. Just breathe with me, okay?"
There were a few more calls and countless texts after that, until Blake leaves Oklahoma and gets back on stage. Shortly after, he's heading back to Los Angeles for a few days, and Adam finds himself sitting outside again with his phone in his hand, one leg bouncing with anxious energy. He practically jumps up when a text comes through, mentally cursing himself for being a little bit more than ridiculous right now, but fuck it, he doesn't care. He can't make himself care because Blake's telling him that he's getting out of the car, and there's something in his chest that suddenly aches. The opening and closing of the gate can he heard from Adam's spot near the pool and for a second he thinks about waiting for Blake to walk up to the house, but no, forget that, Adam is up and moving. He meets Blake halfway down the driveway, and he doesn't stop until they literally collide, Blake's bag hitting the ground at his feet. Rising up on his toes, he wraps his arms around Blake's body and holds on tight; he feels Blake's shuddered exhale, the way he melts into the hug, and god, he knows Blake has probably needed this so much more than he has, he almost feels like a dick for thinking fucking finally.
Once they finally make it inside, stripped bare and laid out on Adam's bed, Blake shakes with it from the moment Adam touches him. And when Adam stops and goes to pull away, says, "Blake, we don't have to--" Blake grabs him by the wrist to keep him where he is.
"Don't you even think about stoppin'," he says back, and even if Adam goes too slow for his liking, even if the tremble just under his skin doesn't go away, he lets Adam put him back together as best he can; as much as possible.
Afterward, Adam dozes off and on, even though he doesn't feel much like sleeping, and he’s unwilling to get up and leave Blake alone like he normally would. So this is new, this quiet moment he finds them in now, and it's almost weird how not weird it is. He's not quite sure what to do when he gives up on sleep for good because part of him wants to wake Blake up, but then he knows Blake is exhausted, deserves to spend every minute with the Sandman that he can. There's an itch to just move that Adam has to fight to ignore, but once he shifts a little, fits himself right along Blake's side in a grossly perfect way, he settles in to wait.
If he spends all of that time watching Blake sleep, thinking about how stupidly perfect he looks, well, at least there are no witnesses.
Blake is slow to wake up after an hour or so - drifting, twitching, nuzzling, stretching, Adam observes and notes all minute movements - before he finally blinks his eyes open and turns his head, and catches Adam watching him. He scrubs a hand over his face and stifles a yawn, his arm curling around Adam's shoulders just as he's leaning in, pressing their mouths together.
"Feel better?" Adam murmurs against his lips, lingering there for a moment before he eases back.
"Yeah," he answers with a sigh. "I'm all right. You'd know if I wasn't."
"I know, because you'd fucking tell me and not try to hide it."
Blake rolls his eyes, his arm tightening around Adam's shoulders at the same time. "Yes, sir."
Adam lets out a satisfied hum, stretching his legs under the covers, rolling his neck until it pops. It's completely indulgent the way they're just lying here like this in the middle of the day, making no attempt to move when there are other things they could probably be doing. It all comes down to the fact that Adam absolutely does not care, not when he has Blake to himself like this.
He shifts over a little into more of a sprawl on his stomach, propping his chin low on Blake's chest. If the scratch of his stubble against bare skin bothers Blake at all, he doesn't mention it. "I was in the studio the other day, and you know what I was thinking about?" Adam asks, one of his hands coming up to bury his fingers in Blake's mess of hair.
"Hmm?"
"When we met. Well, not that exact day, but that dinner we went to, that sort of 'get to know these new people you're now stuck with so suck it up' thing."
Blake snorts softly, bending one of his arms back behind his head. "Oh, is that what it was? What made you think about that?"
"I don't know, my mind was wandering and I was just… Okay, you can't laugh at this even though I know you will because you're a jackass and can't help yourself, but. I spent most of that night thinking you had the brightest, bluest eyes for a dude that I'd ever seen and my mind was completely fucking blown." Blake flashes a grin and it's so obvious he wants to laugh; Adam can see it shining in his hooded eyes, annoying and endearing at the same time. Asshole. "Shut up," Adam says, and Blake does laugh then, deep and drowsy, and it sounds right.
"What?" he asks, not at all as innocent as he wants to be but hey, at least he tried.
Adam tries not to laugh but fails, he always fails, dropping his hand to cover Blake's face. "Your face is ridiculous."
***
A couple of months later, when Blake is doing a string of shows around California, a small package shows up in his dressing room before he's set to go on. He thinks he recognizes the chicken scratch handwriting on the envelope, and he's smiling as he opens it, pulls out a CD case and a piece of paper. The CD is blank, no help at all, so he slips it back inside the safety of the padded envelope before unfolding the note.
Shelton-
Inspiration comes in many forms, from an infinite number of places. You being one of those has become unavoidable. We're still laying down tracks for the new album, but this is a definite. You're hearing it first because it's one that you have touched. And if it leaks, I know who to blame.
Adam
PS: There are others.
Blake feels almost giddy but pissed at the same time because he can't listen to the CD until after the show, until he's on his bus heading to the next stop. The next few hours are hellish but exhilarating at the same time; being on stage was the same adrenaline rush it always is, but for once he’s a little eager for the night to end. There's a built in player in the back of his bus and the first thing Blake does when he's on board is pop the disk in, press play and get comfortable.
The music starts and Adam's voice joins in soon after. It's catchy from the very beginning but Blake doesn't really get it, what it has to do with him until he hears the words, "I remember your eyes were so bright, when I first met you, so in love that night."
He's taken back to Adam's bed, his confession, and then he sort of gets lost in the rest of the song because somehow he's also back on the phone bawling his eyes out after his dad died. He's completely torn right now between laughing and crying because it's so not even obvious, but it is, he fucking gets it, it's there in the smallest of ways. Adam weaved his lyrical, musical magic and turned it into something brilliant and Blake sort of wants to punch him for it. Instead he listens a dozen more times and pretends he doesn't have tears in his eyes because "holding back won't turn back time" and god. God.
He digs his phone out of his pocket, pulls up Adam's number, who barely even has a chance to answer before Blake is saying, "you sonofabitch."
"Well, hello to you, too, buddy."
"I don't even know what to say to you right now."
"But you do realize you're the one that called me, right?"
Blake laughs a little, then sighs. "I got the CD."
"I figured. And?"
"You know it's great, Adam. And… thank you."
"Hey, you don't have to thank me. I'm glad you like it. I was hoping you would."
"Like it was even a possibility that I wouldn't?"
Adam snorts. "Hey, you never know. Stranger things have happened."
There's a brief moment of silence before Blake's grinning himself, laughter threatening to break through in his voice when he asks, "So. Love, huh?"