(no subject) @ 04:14 pm
This is working out well.
No, really, it is. He swears. So, okay, he’s inwith a 7-night-and-one-day-a-week schedule and essentially permanent vocal rest the other night. It’s not like that’s for nothing- he’s in a show he loves and believes in, something new and powerful and oh yeah, there’s a Tony sitting on his mantle. He’s not complaining. But the thing is, Adam is on his four millionth (okay, third) tour, international this time, which is great, Gavin is proud as shit, but he’s also horny as shit and you can’t masturbate with pride.
If you want him to get sappy on your ass, he misses Adam. He’s sitting in his apartment inon a youtubing his boyfriend, smiling to himself because he knows that that lyric, and that line, and oh that entire song, are about him. None of this is really different than normal, he guesses, because normal has them on opposite coasts with only vaguely similar schedules and once-a-week private jet rides for dinner, except that this is the longest they’ve gone without seeing each other, and what the fuck time was it where Adam was?
It was working out because he loved Adam, he really fucking did, had since Adam’d shown up to Hair’s closing night, because they had plans- in a month, he was leaving Easter Rising and Adam was taking a break from recording, and they were going to stay in one house, together, permanently. Going to decorate a nursery and sign adoption papers, and Gavin was going to play housewife for a little while. That was all too surreal and big to be abandoned for two months of overseas long distance charges.
But if you didn’t want him to get sappy? Gavin was just horny and through the pixels he could make out the familiar outline in Adam’s pants and he had to wait five days for that. Fuck.
By the time Tuesday rolls around, he’s sitting in the venue’s designated “important persons” area, and he’s damn glad that Neil saw the show back in California , because his dick is about to climb right out of his jeans and Neil was a pretty understanding guy but there were some boundaries, man. Fifteen minutes that seem like fifteen hours later, Adam walks into the room, mumbling something to the bodyguard and shutting the door behind him. “Hi,” he says like no time has passed and smiles, a little timid, but still completely infused with energy from performing.
Gavin’s pretty sure he mumbles hello, but it’s really hard to tell around Adam’s lips. It’s really hard, if you get his drift. Adam kind of chuckles, runs a hand through Gavin’s hair, and locks the door swiftly. “Hello to you too,” he murmurs, running his thumb along Gavin’s squared jaw. “Missed you.”
“You too, baby,” he returns softly, taking a second to stare at Adam who thank God looked the same, before deciding oh what the hell and all but throwing his legs around Adam’s waist. Somewhere in there, there are blurs of Gavin’s fingers in Adam’s currently-purple hair and hips rolled in ways youtube couldn’t ever fathom and they’re murmuring something about missing each other, Gavin can’t really hear over his heart pounding in his motherfucking ears.
Adam rolls off of him, onto the linoleum floor, tilting his head to stare at Gavin, smiling just enough for Gavin to see the creases around his eyes.
This was working out really fucking well.