Work Text:
The house is still dark when Adam lets himself in; it immediately strikes him as odd because Blake is notorious for leaving lights on everywhere, all the time. He walks from room to room, but everything is still and quiet, so he heads straight up to the second floor. It's dark up here, too, but as he walks down the hall, he can hear the barely there sound of music coming from the open door to the master bedroom.
He finds Blake inside, the only light coming in through the open windows; Los Angeles at night is never pitch black, the city lights always shining, reflected back onto itself against the polluted sky. He's sitting in an overstuffed chair, a glass of whiskey (Adam's guessing) in hand. Jeff Buckley's voice is haunting in the background, and it sends a slight shiver down Adam's spine, the hair on his arms standing up on end as he listens to the melody play for a moment.
Adam lightly taps his knuckles on the open door. He's fairly sure Blake already knows he's standing there, but he feels the need to announce his presence anyway, just in case. "Hey… What's going on?" he asks because he knew Blake was in a strange mood when he left the studio earlier that evening; he just didn't think it would turn into something like this.
Blake doesn't answer at first. Just sits, looks down into his glass before he eventually brings it up to his lips to take a drink. "Do you ever just…have you ever had one of those moments where it suddenly hits you that you have no idea what the hell it is you're really doin'?"
Adam is halfway across the room by the time Blake finally answers, and something in his voice makes Adam pause for a moment, the words filling him with a cold sense of dread over the conversation to come. He really doesn't want to jump the gun on panicking, and he ends up standing next to Blake's chair, hip resting against the arm, crossing his arms over his chest.
"I can honestly say I'm not sure if I have? I don't think so, anyway." When Blake doesn't speak again, Adam continues. "Are you sitting here having some kind of quarter life crisis?" He's aiming for light-hearted, praying for some semblance of a smile from Blake, anything to put a damper on the nausea building in his stomach; he's learned that a quiet Blake is hardly ever a good thing.
The man in question takes another slow drink from his glass, shaking his head a little as he swallows it down. "Hell, maybe I am. I feel like I've been runnin' on autopilot for so long now, all of these things just happening at one time, one right after the other, without much time to really let it all sink in and digest and there's so fucking much of it and-- I don't even know what I'm sayin' right now."
Adam sinks down to rest his weight on the arm of the chair, carefully balancing himself so he doesn't slide off. He has never been afraid to touch Blake before; right now, in this moment, despite how badly he wants to drape himself across Blake's lap, tangle his fingers in Blake's hair, he can't make himself move any closer.
"Do you… need there to be less?" Adam asks carefully, and he knows Blake knows, has to know, what he means by that question.
It's the first thing that pops into his head to say, the first logical question that makes complete and total sense. This was never supposed to get complicated, as stupid as that may sound. This thing the two of them are doing together - they're supposed to just be. And the second it becomes anything more than that, as soon as this thing starts to add any kind of snarl in their every day lives, that's it - the plug is pulled, no questions asked. It's all kind of unspoken, but understood. They don't talk about feelings, about needing, and they especially don't use the world love. Not when they're together like this. It has to be obvious that they care about each other or else they wouldn't be so willing to sacrifice everything for their stolen moments, but they keep it to themselves. There's a sense of safety in their mutual silence. It is what it is - what it has to be.
He gets confirmation that Blake understands when his head whips around and he's leaning back a little, enough to look at Adam properly, and god, his eyes are so fucking blue, so intense. Adam sucks in a breath, wishes that goddamn song wasn't playing on repeat and swallows hard. "I'll walk away, Blake, if you need me to," he says even though he doesn't really mean it.
Because things may be unspoken but that doesn't mean they're nonexistent; because it'll kill Adam to walk away, but he'll do it if he has to. When he has to.
It didn't take him long to accept the fact that the inevitable was going to happen - that all the time they spend together, whether it was work or play, the more he got to know Blake in every possible way, that it would all eventually lead to Adam falling in love with him. He's Blake for fuck's sake - how could Adam not love him?
"I don't want you questioning your life and your decisions with me just standing in the background fucking everything up. It's not right, it's not fair to you, it's not what this arrangement is supposed to be about. I'm not--"
"Would you hate me if I said I don't know what I want?" Blake asks suddenly, but he sounds like he's been punched in the gut, and it knocks Adam even more off kilter than he already was.
It's hard to breathe for a moment, harder than Adam would expect, but he swallows past the goddamn brick of emotion in his throat and tells himself to calm the fuck down. "Blake... I'd never hate you, dude. I don't know how to hate you. Fucking impossible."
He wants to throw up, wants to get up and run away, but more than that, he wants to know what started this, what made Blake start questioning things because this morning everything was fine. This morning, Blake was waking him up with an eager mouth on his skin, and now—Now Adam doesn’t even know. He pushes himself off of the arm of the chair, the need to get as far away from the situation (from Blake) as possible more than he can stand.
“I’m going to get out of here,” he says, looking anywhere but at Blake because he just can’t. He also can’t make himself ask those burning questions because he isn’t sure he really wants to know the answers. “Let you think. Or drink. But it’ll probably be easier without me hanging around.”
He makes it as far as the door before he’s stopping. He stands there, letting the seconds tick by, his knuckles turning white as he grips the doorframe to keep from throwing a punch. Fuck. Just fuck. Inhaling a sharp breath, he steels himself, and then turns back. “Hey, Blake?”
“Yeah?”
“Whatever you decide, you just have to know… no matter what, I fucking love you, dude. That’s not going to change. And I mean it.”
Blake just looks at him with this expression Adam can’t even read because it’s one he’s never seen on Blake’s face before, and he almost regrets opening his big mouth, letting those forbidden words tumble out. But right now, Adam cannot come up with a good reason to not let them be said and heard, so fuck the goddamn rules if he’s about to walk out and lose everything.
He lets it drop, holds Blake’s gaze for one more second before he’s heading out the door. His feet feel like lead as he walks slowly down the hallway, growing heavier with each passing step. His heart aches with every pounding beat it takes, and he’s trying so hard to build up some kind of anger to hide behind to mask the sorrow that’s threatening to swallow him whole.
He’s always been the sensitive type, but it’s easy to deflect with a personality as cocky as his, all smirks and swagger, inked skin and the perfect body that he throws into provocative dance moves. In truth, it’s all so incredibly superficial and he can count the number of people that truly know the real him on his fingers. It comes across on screen and in print that he doesn’t give a shit about anything, doesn’t care about anyone other than himself, but the truth is that deep down, he cares too fucking much. The protective wall he has built around himself since making it in the business has saved him on more than one occasion but leave it to Blake fucking Shelton to waltz in and blow right past it, shatter his defenses like they don’t even exist. Adam really kind of hates him for it, for making it look so easy; it pisses him off more than words can say, but at the same time, he knows he’s fallen for Blake, head over heels. What is there to really hate about that?
Adam knows; he can hate the fact that it’s more than a year later and he has to walk away.
His knees almost give out on him as he takes the stairs one at a time, each step slow and calculated because he literally has to focus on walking in order to keep doing it. The anger starts to come at the same moment the sting hits his eyes, burning sharp and hot, and Adam sinks down onto the bottom step to sit, to breathe, to break into those first few pieces. With his arms folded across his knees, he presses his face into the crook of his elbow, his eyes squeezed closed in a stubborn refusal to cry. Because he won’t.
And then his mind flashes back to that morning again, to Blake’s warmth, his hands and his mouth and his wicked smile. Adam can hear his infectious laugh, can feel the phantom trace of Blake’s fingers trailing along his skin, has a fresh bruise on the inside of his thigh that tingles if he thinks about it hard enough. And then there’s the pure happiness Adam felt, the insatiable need and desire to just be with Blake, wrapped up in and around him. There’s a sense of contentment that settles over them when they’re together that Adam’s never been able to find anywhere else, peaceful and satisfying and so fucking right, even when they’re arguing or making fun of each other or getting on each other’s nerves. It’s still there because laughter always follows everything they do.
Adam sits there and rocks for a minute, tries to pull himself together so he can get up and leave the house with some sort of dignity. When he hears his name being spoken, it takes him a second to realize it’s coming from behind him and not inside of his own head. Adam scrubs at his face as he jumps up and turns on his heels to find Blake standing at the top of the stairs. They both just look at each other, surprised to find the other standing where they are.
“Sorry,” Adam starts, then clears his throat. “Sorry, I was just. I’m still leaving. Now.”
“Adam,” Blake says again and his voice sounds wrecked, though Adam knows he doesn’t look any better, his face hot, eyes burning. He watches as those long legs start descending the stairs, and it’s a fight against Adam’s instincts to not back away as Blake draws closer.
He can hear the blood rushing in his ears, and he’s not sure if Blake’s movements are purposely slow or if his perception is distorted as Blake reaches for him, one hand landing gently on the side of his face. Blake’s thumb brushes along his cheek, over the damp skin just under his eye as they fall closed, and Adam tries to duck his head, turn away, but Blake won’t let him.
“Could you just—If this is going to be it, please don’t.”
Blake’s free hand comes up to join the first, cupping the other side of Adam’s face, then he’s leaning in, his mouth just brushing over Adam’s. “I don’t think I can do this without you,” he says, the words spoken in almost a whisper, lips brushing against lips.
Adam swallows back a whimper at the ache he feels in his chest just hearing those words, being this close to Blake. “Do what? Yes, you can. You can do anything.” He doesn’t know why he’s trying to argue, exactly; he does know if Blake is having any kind of doubts, if he wants this to end to help himself, Adam damn well isn’t going to hang around simply because Blake doesn’t have the balls to let go. He wants to keep Blake but not that way. Not out of pity or obligation or weakness. Fuck that.
“We knew going into this that we would end up here eventually. This part of our relationship couldn’t last forever, right? Maybe in a perfect world, but we’re not even close to living in one of those.”
He can’t believe he’s doing it, trying to console Blake like this when he’s crumbling on the inside, but he doesn’t have the heart to be an asshole right now, no matter how badly he wants to punch Blake in the face and tell him he can go straight to hell. Instead, Adam pulls out of Blake’s reach; his touch makes Adam’s skin crawl, and it hurts. He never would have guessed there would come a day when he wouldn’t want Blake’s hands on him in some way.
Blake shoves his hands into his pockets like it’s the only way to keep him from reaching for Adam again, his gaze landing on the floor. “You know if I could go back, do it all over again, I would. Have you, I mean.”
Adam wants to force a smile, ultimately failing because he isn’t sure he would do the same. Not knowing how it ends with him being completely gutted, that it feels this way. Because this is the absolute worst.
“Yeah,” he manages to say, his voice breaking. “It’s been one hell of a ride.”
And that’s it, that’s all he can stand because he’s about to fucking lose it right there as his eyes start to burn again, swelling up with tears that he cannot even begin to fight anymore. He backs away a few steps at a time in the direction of the front door until he bumps into something that has him turning, spinning around and all but running the rest of the way out.
Once outside, he’s home free and he makes it to his car before he finally shatters completely, sliding into the driver’s seat just as the first sob breaks through. He rests his forehead on the steering wheel, pounds his fist into what little dash there is until the throb in his knuckles starts to match the one in his heart. It’s more than just the loss of Blake as his lover – and he hates calling it that because there’s so much more to what they were – it’s the fact that Adam knows they’re never going to be the same. They can say the words all they want, tell each other that they will always be friends, but he knows that this has forever changed them. They can’t just go back and act like nothing ever happened. Adam can’t flip a switch and tomorrow pretend like he doesn’t know all the intimate details of Blake. He can’t pretend that Blake doesn’t know him inside and out, probably better than anyone else ever has because that’s how deeply Blake wormed his way inside. He just walked away from one of the best friends he has ever had, and it’s killing him.
The pain pulsating in his fingers doesn’t come close in comparison by the time he stops, and he wipes his eyes with the bitter swipe of his hand across his face, needs to catch his breath. He fumbles for a moment and is finally putting the key in the ignition when he looks up and sees Blake standing in the driveway. It makes him stop breathing all together and his stomach lurches and oh god, he just wants this to end already.
But Blake is marching closer now that Adam has spotted him, and Adam can see his blue eyes are red and wet, his hair a mess like he’s been running his hands through it nonstop. He gets to Adam’s door and pulls it open, says, “get out” in a voice so rough and broken that Adam automatically obeys. He’s barely out of the car before Blake’s arms are around him, and all Adam can hear is “Don’t go. Don’t fucking leave” amidst sobs, both his and Blake’s, as they cling to each other.
“Blake…”
Blake kisses him then, tells him he loves him against his mouth, and all Adam can do is hold on for dear life. He kisses Blake back like it’s their first instead of their last, desperation swallowing them both whole. This is all he wants, the only thing he has ever wanted since the very first time he ever thought about Blake in this way, and it’s so easy to lose himself in the heat of Blake’s mouth, slick tongue and sharp teeth, momentarily forgetting what has gotten them here. But reality comes crashing back down on top of him a few seconds later, and Adam wrenches himself away, breathless and dizzy and so unhinged he could scream.
“No, Blake…”
“Damn it, Adam, stop tryin’ to break up with me! Because I’m not going to let you. That’s not what you want, is it?”
Adam swallows hard and braces his weight back against the car, reaching up to drag a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what’s happening.”
“I might have some things I need to figure out, but I know that you’re not one of them. Watchin’ you walk out that door… I’ve never felt anything like that before in my life, like you ripped my heart straight outta my chest and took it with you, and if you weren’t still here, I’d be coming after you right now.” Blake pauses for a moment to recollect his thoughts, reaching up to rest his hands on Adam’s shoulders, his thumbs brushing over the sides of Adam’s neck. “This, you and me… I think we both know it’s become a lot more than we thought it would, right? I’m—I know I’m so stupidly in love with you, it’s insane.”
That’s all it takes for Adam to push away from the car, closing that little bit of distance between the two of them to press his mouth to Blake’s again. He pours himself into this kiss, deep and needy, his hands clutching at Blake’s back, tangling in his hair. There’s salt on his lips, his face is damp, and he doesn’t know if it’s from his tears or Blake’s, but he doesn’t really care. One kiss is melting into the next, into the next, the need to breathe being completely dismissed by the need to make this moment last.
Later, when he thinks about it, Adam won’t remember any of the time between standing at his car and ending up back in the bedroom. It passes in a blur, which seems a little fitting considering the emotional rollercoaster he’s been riding, but the finish line happens to be Blake’s lap and he’s more than happy to land there.
It’s a steady progression once clothes are shed of roaming hands and grinding hips, sweat covering their skin, Adam coating Blake’s fingers with lube before they find their way inside his body. Every sound Adam makes is heartfelt as he rocks himself back against Blake’s hand, two fingers quickly leading to three, leading to Blake pressing up into him and kissing away the hiss that escapes his lips. They’re back to drawing each kiss out until they’re both breathless, until Adam can’t stop writhing on top of Blake, until pure need is too much to ignore anymore. It’s a race to the finish after that, battling every ounce of the built up tension and intense emotion to the perfect, blinding crescendo.
Afterward, they lay facing each other, legs crisscrossing beneath the sheet barely covering them, eyelids heavy. For a little while, all they do is look, content in the comfortable silence that surrounds them, their only focus being calming heartbeats and steady breathing. It’s not until Adam shifts to tuck his arm beneath the pillow under his head that he finally feels like breaking their peaceful reverie before they both end up falling asleep.
“So… we’re pretty fucked. What are we going to do now?” he asks. He’s not expecting Blake to have a solid answer; anyway, how could he? But part of him really needs to know where Blake’s head is right now.
“Honestly? I don’t have much of a clue. But I think we can figure it out together, you and me. It’s not goin’ to be easy.”
“No, I wouldn’t expect it to be. I think as long as we both acknowledge it and accept that it won’t be easy, we’ll be okay.”
“Promise me something?”
“Sure.”
“Promise me that no matter how hard it gets or how stupid I get that you won’t give up on me. Because I know me, I’ll probably get really stupid somewhere down the line.”
Adam flashes a small, sleepy smile, and reaches over to hook his fingers through Blake’s. “I think I’m pretty used to you being stupid by now, Blake.”
Blake gives Adam’s hand a squeeze and pulls until the small space between their bodies disappears. “I was being serious, jackass.”
“Okay, okay,” Adam replies with an exaggerated sigh. “I guess I can promise to do that, if you can do the same when I turn into a raging asshole. Deal?”
Instead of answering, Blake grins and leans in, pressing a kiss to Adam’s mouth. “You’re biting back a smartass comment right now, aren’t you?” he asks into the kiss, and he feels rather than sees Blake nod his head yes as he rests their foreheads together.
Sighing softly, Adam wants to say something else about how he wouldn’t expect anything less but thinks it feels better just being here like this, floating in that hazy space between being awake and asleep. Blake’s hand is hot on his hip, though not uncomfortable, more like it’s keeping him grounded. Keeping him here. It adds to the overwhelming sense of peace that is settling in his chest, the utter contentment curling around his heart, the undeniable sense that everything is just right.