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It was three in the morning.
It was three in the morning, and Adam Jones might just finally go insane.
Well, no. Some would say he went insane the minute he stepped into Jean Luc’s restaurant at the tender age of 19, thrown into the life of violence and screaming and cooking oil and passion. He fucking loved every single minute of it, even down to the 20 hour shifts and the even longer stretches of time where nothing seemed to exist other than taste and smell.
Others would say he had gone insane when he finally fell into the world of drugs, constantly searching for his next high. Whether it had been in a painful injection or some girl to help throw him off the deep end. Those days still stung like the track marks on his arms, albeit fading as the years pass by like water draining from a sink.
But as his heart pounded, standing in front of Tony Balerdi’s hotel room once he had found out he’d found refuge in here from a long night staring at accounts and other various paperwork he couldn’t begin to understand…
No, the moment he knew he went insane was when he realized that he didn’t just want to make breakfast for the man who gave him a second chance, to believe him whenever he was the one who had the fullest right to kick him out on his ass without a second thought..
It was when he realized that he had loved him, too.
—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
He would almost feel bad for the fact he was interrupting Tony’s beauty sleep if it wasn’t for the fact that man made sleep deprivation look elegant, and also for the fact he needed to hear the man’s voice right at this moment.
The small voice in his head that has been telling him to shut up, to go home quiets when he hears the deadbolt unlock and the door open, golden light spilling from the crack as Tony peeks through the crevice.
“Adam.” Tony muttered, wrapping the navy robe around him tighter and nudging the door open with his foot. “What are you doing here? It’s late.”
Yeah. Almost 4 am. In what world did he not know that?
He watched as Tony almost glided across the room back into bed, the covers perfectly disheveled as much as his head felt right now. Every other aspect of the room was pitch perfect -- he wouldn’t expect anything else from his Tony.
In the essence of the fact that it truly was late, he decides to cut to the chase.
"You deserved something softer than what I gave you." Adam spoke, and tried not to wince at the look Tony gave him under the low lamplight. "You didn't deserve what I gave you in front of Helene, excuse my wording -- drunk off my ass about the fact we hadn't fucked up the entire night with the fake Michelin men."
“Are you drunk? High?” Tony accused, the sharp tone in his voice dulled by exhaustion. “We both have an early day tomorrow, you know this.”
Both of them had to be up by 6 am tomorrow to start preparations for the morning service, not to mention the extra duties that had now fallen onto the newly promoted maître d’. In a way, Adam can see the barriers being thrown up as they spoke, a far cry from the kind and almost… shy man he knew long ago.
“I’m sorry.” Is all Adam said, watching as a few different expressions flit across the other man’s face.
The sleep mussed looked great on him, Adam thinks, as Tony rubbed his eyes and laid back down into the soft pillows. He looked more worn down than he has in years. Maybe even since their days in cut-throat Paris.
"Je déteste toi," Tony muttered, voice chock full of something Adam is mildly sure isn't what he actually meant by that statement. "Je veux... je vouloir..."
Adam shook his head and shucked off his own shirt, climbing in bed beside the only man who has ever whole-heartedly believed in him. The only one who he can truly say has never given up on him, despite his quantitative and rather explosive fuckups.
"You don't hate me," He whispered, his piercing blue eyes ghosting over Tony's vulnerable form. "It would probably be easier, if you did."
Just over the other man’s shoulder, he can see an amber vial with a few pills left in it on the nightstand, just familiar enough to be painful. He couldn’t read the name of the medication, but he knew what it could’ve been as Tony buried himself deeper into the blankets, surrounded in a sea of a black duvet and warm lighting.
The only sound filling the bedroom was soft breathing as he laid there, not knowing what to say. Was his sorry too-little-too-late?
“If you’re gonna sleep here, at least turn off the light,” Tony muttered, his accent more pronounced than usual. Something flutters in his gut. “Make yourself useful.”
He quickly complied with the order, the room now only illuminated in moonlight as he settled down once more, only just seeing Tony’s eyes flutter close and take a deep breath. He was right— 6 am wasn’t far off, and he knew they would be feeling the lack of sleep sooner rather than later.
It seemed like his thoughts were loud enough for Tony to sense as he cracked one eye open, letting out a small huff. “ Adam . Go to sleep.”
“How can you stand me?”
Tony snorts, low and almost like a wounded animal. “I can’t.”
They fall into relative silence after that, with the sky gradually lightening through the cracks of the curtains and the typical London rain splattering against the windows. Another cloudy, dreary day coming in their wake.
Nearly close to falling asleep himself, Adam was half-sure that Tony had fallen back into dreamland long ago before a tired voice filled the room once again, this time filled with.. longing.
“Are you going to be gone before I wake up?”
The statement felt… raw. Torn open as if the answer was something he dreaded, an answer turned over thousands and thousands of times until it was bruised and bleeding. Adam didn’t know the answer to it either, only shook his head and reached across the empty space between them.
“Not if you don’t want me to, Tones.” He replied, feeling like he was handling fragile glass.
In a way, he was.
“Do you know how long I’ve dreamt of you waking up in my bed, alive and well?” The hush voice continued, speaking as if he were reading off of a menu. Almost… dead. “And here you are.. breathing and running a restaurant and going for your third star.”
Adam noted the fact that he also doesn’t speak in ‘if’s’, but in when’s. God, when has this man ever not believed in him?
And how blind has he been not to see otherwise?
“Too long.” Tony whispered, his eyes still closed. “Too fucking long.”
There was probably nothing he could say to help undo the hurt he has caused over the last few years, let alone even deserve the forgiveness of the man in front of him. No way to deserve the love in those jasper eyes he’s grown used to staring into. No way to even begin unraveling the history they shared.
He doesn’t miss the way Tony’s breath hitched, his once serene face screwing up into a mottled mess of emotions. In reality, he’d broken the glass long ago, the shattered pieces bleeding and mourning.
“Don’t… don’t give me hope,” He sobbed, sounding like the child he’d met all of those years ago, back when they were just 19 and 16, having the whole world ahead of them. Adam knew he fucked up when he saw the broken look in his eyes when they’d kissed that day, just another example of how he breaks every single thing he touches. “I won’t be able to take it, please--”
God, Tony, what did I do to you?
Adam silences those cries with a kiss as they laid there, bathed in the morning sun. A part of him wondered why he’d ever waited so long, too self-obsessed and absorbed to realize what was right in front of him.
When he pulls back, he sees something like hope shine in those teary eyes, searching and wondering what the hell this is all for. It’s a look he wants to see every day for the rest of his life.
“Let me make you breakfast,” Adam says, catching the time saying 5:26 am. They both could grab a nap in between services. “Your favorite. And I won’t even make fun of you for the dainty way you hold a fork.” And I hope you’ll forgive me for being such a colossal ass.
Tony laughed wetly, wiping at his eyes and looking oh, so beautiful. His eyes and hair were lit up by the golden light, an angel lying within the dark sheets.
“And what about falling in love with me?” He asked, his voice catching on the word love.
More than just an angel, Adam thought, as he dragged them both up and into the chilled air. A long day was ahead of both of them, filled with comradery and violence against salmon and family. A concept he was forced to learn by Tony and Helene, and grateful that they’d kept up this long.
“I think that can be arranged.” He whispered against Tony’s skin, and smiled when he feels a kiss in return.