So I think that in writing this I've officially crossed the line between 'fangirl' and 'creep.' Oh well. I OWN NOTHING. THIS FIC IS EXACTLY THAT—*FIC*TIONAL, MEANING THAT THE EVENTS PORTRAYED IN THIS STORY DID NOT ACTUALLY HAPPEN (despite how much I wish some of them would.) So, proceed with all things Glambert, I hope you like my silly little fic :)

(I wrote this in Adam's POV [at least what I imagine it to be] in case that's unclear.)

Tonight was the last night of my second world tour and I was back home in L.A. We were headed to a sold-out venue with a crowd of 20,000. We had a great set-list lined up, with a few more covers than we did in the other shows since it was the last one. It was going to be a really fun night and the tour was going to go out with a bang.

We knew that the infamous protestors from the Westboro Baptist Church were going to be outside waiting for us when we got there. I wasn't worried about it, only that they might start being rude to my fans. That was not okay, and I intended to make that perfectly clear to them. My band had decided to all make shirts in response to the protestors' "God Hates Fags" paraphernalia and I couldn't wait to see their reactions. We were planning on giving them a real show tonight to counteract all their hate.

My family (my mom, dad, and Neil,) had all decided to come out to the show as well since they lived in L.A. to begin with and were planning to meet up with us backstage before watching from the audience. Sauli was visiting family and friends in Finland and wouldn't be back until next week, unfortunately, but I was glad if it meant he got to see them because I know he misses them while he's here. Tommy, Ashley, Kevin, and I were on the tour bus as was Sutan, who had insisted on doing on our makeup for this show even though it was a more toned-down look.

As expected, when we arrived at the venue there was a decent-sized group of protestors holding up signs and wearing teeshirts with various offensive slogans. A few scoffed as they took in our own teeshirts as we stepped out of the bus. Tommy's shirt read "God hates Devil Children like me who think for themselves." Sutan's read "God hates polyester blends (So do I)" on the front and "Does that make me God? I love fags" on the back. Ashley's read "God hates football (Bye, bye Superbowl)," Kevin's, "God hates shellfish. (So do I… I'm allergic.)" Mine said, "God hates hate."

"Hey guys," I said to the protestors, smiling politely. Tommy went bug-eyed.

"Dude, what the hell are you doing? I thought we were just ignoring them?" he whispered to me.

"It's okay, I'm just making an attempt to be civil and seeing if I can educate them a bit. They're just ignorant, not evil." I reassured the guitarist, who rolled his eyes at me and still looked wary. "I was just wondering if I could talk to you for a second, see if we can try to understand each other." I said to the row of people holding signs.

The air was palpably tense before one of the protestors near the back called out, "God hates fags. You're going to burn in hell."

I felt the band stiffen beside me and put out a hand and glanced back quickly to reassure them. "Why do you guys think that god hates gay people?" I asked calmly. "I was raised Jewish, and when I went to temple every week they talked about how there was a piece of god inside all of us and that he loved everyone. You say you're Christian, so wasn't that Jesus' message? To love each other because we're all god's children and equal in his eyes?"

I was met with silence. "No," one of them answered, "Leviticus specifically states that 'man shall not lie with another man. It is an abomination.'"

"You're right," I agreed, "Leviticus does say those words. But those words could be interpreted a lot of different ways, and the Bible wasn't directly written by god, it was written by people, who admit that they're flawed, over 3,000 years ago and translated hundreds of times since then. Leviticus bans a lot of things in that same passage… certain haircuts, speaking with women who are menstruating, playing football, eating shellfish, I'm sure you do some of those things, right?"

"You've chosen to sin against the Lord, you could still be saved if you choose to get back on the path of righteousness." One of the protestors replied.

"Seriously, man," Kevin whispered to me, "you don't have to prove anything to these people. You've already given them too much of your time."

"It's okay," I told him, flashing a small smile to get him to believe me. "That's the thing, though," I said to the wall of protestors, "this isn't a choice that I made. I didn't decide to be gay, I just am. I was made that way. It's not something I'm consciously deciding to do all the time."

"God hates fags."

"Look, you can call me whatever you want. Stay out here all night if you'd like to. Just please don't speak that way to my fans, that's when I'm going to get upset." I paused to make sure they knew that I was serious despite my still calm tone. "For a lot of them this is the only place where they feel as though they won't get judged and can be themselves, and I don't want anything to take that away from them. Some of them have been through a lot, and they're here to come together through music. I'm not asking you to agree with me, I'm just asking you to please have enough respect for the struggles we all go through as people to not ruin this experience for my fans."

I could see that my reasonableness was having an effect on them, albeit a small one. Clearly, they weren't used to being spoken with like human beings, which, ironically enough, the people mistreating them were fighting against. There were even a few pensive glances toward the ground at my request, and no one yelled half-thought out phrases this time.

I saw a very young little girl standing in with the protestors, holding a sign proclaiming what had become their hateful slogan. "Hi, what's your name, sweetie?" I asked her, smiling at her little blonde curls. I leaned down on one knee so that I could talk to her, ignoring the nervous expressions on her parent's faces.

"Scarlett." She told me.

"No way!" I gasped. "That's my best friend's name."

She smiled back at me, clearly excited at the idea of there being another Scarlett. "What's your name?" she asked.

I could hear the band behind me chuckle. "My name's Adam." I told her.

"Like Adam in the Bible?" she asked.

"Yeah, kind of." I told her.

"How old are you?" she asked, cocking her head to the side to look at me.

I laughed. "I'm thirty. Isn't that old?" she nodded. "How old are you?"

"I'm four, but I'm going to be five next month." She stated all in one breath.

"That's so cool!" I said. "Do you know what that sign means, Scarlett?" I asked her, pointing to the one she was holding. She shook her head 'no'. "It's calling me and a lot of other people a really mean name."

She frowned. "Why would people be calling you a mean name?"

I shrugged. "You know how your mommy and daddy love each other?" she nodded. "Well the person I love is a boy, like me."

Her head tilted to the side again, her frown disappearing. "Do you still make each other coffee and sing silly songs to each other and kiss goodnight and argue when you're driving and you get lost?"

I grinned. "Yeah, we do all of that."

Her frown came back. "Why should it matter that he's a boy then? My mommy and daddy do all that and they love each other, so why shouldn't you be able to?"

"I don't know. I don't think it should matter, do you?"

She shook her head again.

"I think you're a very smart little girl, Scarlett. I have to go get ready to sing now. Do you know that there's a huge stage in there?" she nodded. "Well I get to go sing on it in front of a whole bunch of people and my friends play instruments."

"Whoa, that's so cool!" She said, her mouth opening in surprise.

"Isn't it? Do you like singing?" her head went up and down so fast it almost made me dizzy just watching. I laughed. "Who's your favourite singer?"

Rather than give me an answer she started singing. "Just don' give up, I'm wo'kin' it out. Pwease don' give in, I won't let you down."

I shook my head from the ridiculous irony and sang with her. "It messed me up, need a second to breathe. Just keep comin' around. Hey, waddaya want from? Waddaya want from me?"

"Wow, you're really good." She informed me.

"Well thank you, so are you!"I said, unable to wipe the grin off of my face.

"Do you know who sings that, sweetheart?" Sutan asked her from behind me. Scarlett bites her lip and shakes her head no, clearly intimidated by Sutan, even though he was putting forth his best manners. I can sense him pointing toward me and it's confirmed when she gasps and looks at me wide-eyed.

"Really?" she asks, stunned.

"Mhm." I answer. "Alright, I have to go now. But make sure you ask your mommy and daddy about things from now on, okay? As long as you're being nice it's fine to ask questions."

She nodded. "Wait!" she said as I went to leave. Before I could react she had flung her arms around me. I hugged her back before pulling away to take something out of my pockets. I knew I had an extra copy for rehearsal.

"Here, I want you to have this." I said, handing her a copy of Trespassing. "It's my new music. If you liked that song we sang you'll like a bunch of the ones on here, too."

"Thank you." She said.

"You're welcome." I told her, getting up to leave with the rest of the band to get ready for the show. I saw her turn excitedly to her parents, who had put down their signs and were looking very torn between the love in their little girl's eyes and the hate they had intended to be here spreading. It became clear to me which one won out as I saw the father look up and mouth 'Thank you,' to me. I nodded back to him.

"You know she's going to get that shit stuck in her head and be singing it all around the house, right?" Kevin asked me, smiling, when we had taken a few steps away.

"That's the plan. And hopefully she'll spread the love and rock and roll around." I replied.

I heard a muffled, "You crazy bastard," come from my right.

I turned my head in mock shock. "Tommy Joe, you are not crying."

"What?" he demanded, trying to subtly bring the hem of his shirt up to the corners of his eyes. I pulled him in and kissed the top of his head.

"Seriously, though, is there anything you can't do?" Ashley asked in awe.

I shrugged. "I mean, I was never good at biology. Or politics," I offered. "Does that count?" She laughed and playfully shoved my arm.

When we reached the door Neil was standing there propping it open for us. "You're un-fucking-believable, you know that, right? That stunt could have gotten you killed. That'd be awkward to explain to your fans in there: 'Oh, sorry, Adam was trying to reason with a bunch of loonies and be Mahatma fucking Gandhi and got himself stabbed. We had to rush him to the E.R. Sorry, no refunds.'" he ranted in a critical tone, hiding an indulgent smile.

I grinned at him—same old Neil as ever. "That's ridiculous, I'm sure we worked out some sort of 'I get stabbed while playing Gandhi, fans get their money back,' clause in there somewhere…"

That's all for now, folks! Chapter two will be coming soon. Please leave feedback on what you liked, what you hated, what you were impassive about, or life and the universe in general. Much love!