Hey, all. I'm writing the second chapter and Talia's gonna write the third chapter and so on.


Adam's POV

I groaned from my slumber as I heard a heavy object hit the ground. Honestly, I didn't even want to acknowledge the loud noise, but for all I know, a rapist could be lurking the perimeter of my room, ready to pounce on Tommy. NOT TOMMY! "Wwhatt wash thav?" I mumbled the incoherent words into my pillow, not allowing my eyes to stray open. I was tired, I wanted to be alone, and I wanted to take another shower. That's all I wanted. But a glam singer can't get what a glam singer wants (understatement of the year).

"Sorry Babyboy. I dropped my suitcase, go back to sleep, okay?" I heard Tommy whisper and enter the bathroom. I mumbled a rant of works and attempted to bury my head into the sheets, but then I felt something heavy land on top of me. "HA! Sucker, I'm not letting you sleep, get up!" Tommy's voice went in one ear and out the other. I didn't respond and acted like a corpse from his arms. I heard him sigh and roll over so he was next to me on the bed. "Babyboy!" he whined, ripping the covers off me. I suddenly shivered and opened my make-up ridden eyes and stared at him. He was so cute. His make-up looked like it had just been applied, and if I believed in angels, fuck, he would be mine. But then I noticed his eyes were intently concentrating on something.

"What are you looking at?" I asked, rubbing my eyes and yawning. I sat up and bent over a bit, trying to regain my memory and the location at which we were sleeping. I turned my head and Tommy's face was a bit red, but that wasn't what was odd. His eyes were staring at something and I followed his gaze straight down to my exerting cock. Ah, fuck. Maybe I should wear more to bed. But then the question began filling my mind: Why was he even staring? It's not like it's a foreign body part to him. Maybe I'm more hung than he thought. Or maybe I'm so much bigger than him, he's jealous. Should I ask? Uh, earth to Adam; that would be so awkward! So instead, I went with this, "Hey, at least I'm not naked. But you'd probably like that, huh?" I teased, ruffling his hair and he whined.

"I spent all morning getting that right! Why the fuck do you keep messing it up?" he hissed, running his finger's through the blond locks that covered his head. "I mean I can take it during performances when you practically rape my clothes, but not when we're just hanging, man," he mumbled a bit of profanities. "Oh, and by the way, I would NOT like to see you naked. I mean, I can practically see all your freckles already." He smirked, hiting my weak point.

"Glitters, don't diss the freckles!" I yelled. But then I dissected the important part of what he said. "All morning? What time is it?" I asked, going over to my suitcase and pulling out my attire for the day. Hm, what to go with? I'm feeling rather cocky today, so I'll attempt to show off the goods with a pair of black skinny jeans, and QUEEN t-shirt, and my studded jacket. Then I'll mess with my hair and cosmetics when I get to the bathroom.

"Dude, it's eleven. You slept all through the complementary breakfast. All they have now are the leftovers until one, so you better hurry up. Sorry 'bout that. However, I will say that I tried to wake you up before, but you fucking bit me!" Tommy yelled, standing up and shoving the back of his hand in my face. I stared at it and sure enough there was a faint red bite mark indenting on his soft and pale skin. I chuckled and put on my pants, zipping them up and applying a red and black belt. There were so many lustful qualities about my bassist. Aside from the fact that he was drop dead gorgeous, he had everything going for him personality wise. I really, really, really, with all my heart wished her was gay. Or even bi.

"Well, you don't mess with a glampire!" I taunted, playfully hissing at him and bumping my hip against his. He sighed, clearly frustrated that I wasn't taking his injury seriously. I chuckled and slipped on my shirt and put my jacket on over that. "Don't be such a drama queen, Ms. Ratliff. You're starting to sound like me when I run out of make-up," I exclaimed, practically skipping to the bathroom. Fuck, I was in a good mood. I didn't know why I was in such splendid mood, but for some reason when I woke up this morning, it was like I was covered in glitter. And glitter never ceases to make me happy and blissful. Plus, my sparkling little Tommy helped the fact I was pretty damn pleased today. He always pushed the right buttons on me (unfortunately not literally).

"Well, Mrs. Lambert! I'm sorry that I'm a bit weary as to why you bit me when I asked you to wake up at your curfew!" he yelled, following me into the bathroom like a puppy. He's so cute. His brown eyes glanced in the mirror, and his hands flew up to his hair as he attempted to make it smooth with my strong gel. We always shared things. And it was strange because normally, a straight man never cares about what his hair looks like unless he's going on a date-NO! Don't think like that Lambert. He's straight, and that's all there is to it.

"Why am I a Misses?" I asked, looking in the mirror and applying my daily make-up, but I used a heavier amount than normal when just going in public. I felt pretty ostentatious and wanted to show off everything I could. And that meant my electric blue eyes.

"You're married to yourself! Duh. You're just like that," he cooed and rebutted by bumping hips. I smiled and left my hair as is. Bed head is always sexy in my opinion. The jet black hair that covered my head was shooting in all angles, and my bangs were swept to the side with the exception of my shorter pieces of hair that seemed to be in their own little world.

"Bitch, you wish you could marry me," I said, smiling and ruffling up his hair again. He huffed and rolled his eyes. I could tell he was rather pissed off that once again, I had ruined his perfect hair.

"Yea, that's my one goal in life. To marry you and be Mrs. Tommy Lambert," he sarcastically stated, pulling his black and gray striped sweater over his Marilyn Manson shirt. His eyes were slightly shadowed and he had on his typical black jeans and creepers on. I always liked to tease him about those shoes. The only reason he wore them is because it makes him taller. And when you're standing next to me and as short as Tommy, you don't want to be nearly a foot shorter. Otherwise, your stature self-esteem would totally go down the drain.

"I find it funny that you suddenly assume you'd be on the bottom and take my last name," I teased and his face flushed red which only made me laugh harder. He blushed around me sometimes, and I always assumed it was because of the gay jokes I made.

"Well, Adam Ratliff doesn't suit you! Besides, my name is too cool to be taken by a gay man," he hissed, shoving me as he wrapped his hand around the door knob and pushed it open.

I merely smiled lightly at the blond. "I'll meet you downstairs, Glitters," I mused, winking at him. He just replied by rolling his eyes and slamming the door shut. I couldn't help but laugh. He was such a cutie.

Then I suddenly remembered that list I had found last night. Should I start today? Eh, what the hell. I walked over to my pillow, and pulled out the still mysterious acts to gain a man's love. My eyes gazed over the paper, and I read the first thing to do, as if it was my "To-Do-List".

Number One: Tell him how you admire him.

I snorted a little. Not because I couldn't find anything to actually admire about Tommy, it's just the fact that he was so amazing in every way possible. Shit, I sound like some sorry sap. Oh, well. I can't help what's true.

I couldn't help but giggle a little as I shoved the piece of paper in my pocket and checked my hair one last time before heading out the door towards the elevator where I would soon face my bassist and the dreaded breakfast bar. It's not that I have anything against this specific hotel's gourmet choice, it's just…I have a hard time eating certain types of food. I use to be pretty big, and asides from McDonald's (shit, their burgers are SALTY), I ate a lot of vegan food and fruit. I'm so proud!

As I entered the elevator, I saw Monte exiting it, probably to go to our room. He grinned slyly at me and I held the door open, looking at him. "What's with the big smile?" I asked, raising a weary eyebrow.

"Oh, nothing. I just feel love in the air is all," he cooed, patting my cheek with his hand and practically skipping off.

Love in the air? What the fuck was he referring to? You know, for a straight guy (who's also married with kids), he's pretty fucking gay sometimes. But I couldn't help but love him to death. But hell, I wouldn't date him in a million years…Uh, ew.

I found Tommy eating alone at a two person table; he didn't seem to mind the fact he was eating alone with a slab of bacon hanging from his mouth. I grinned and slid into the seat across from him and he didn't seem to mind, but he also didn't seem to acknowledge my presence. Was he still mad about our conversation upstairs? Or could it be possible that he was still mad over the hair debate in the bus? No, I told him last night that I liked his hair better…

"Yo, Glitters. What's up?" I asked, taking a piece of pancake from his plate and putting my entire finger into my mouth and licked it of its syrupy content; my tongue slightly exited my mouth, but quickly made its way back in. His eyebrows rose slightly at this sight and he shrugged.

"You just saw me five minutes ago. It's not like I went skydiving in that amount of time, Baby…" he cooed, grazing his thumb against the corner of my mouth and putting it in his own mouth. "You had some extra syrup. You're such a slob," he mused, an impish gleam glistening in his eye.

"I like the fact that you don't care how straight you are and you still flirt with me," I said, smiling and taking a strip of bacon and putting that in my mouth. He smirked and shrugged.

"I don't know what it is. I'm completely irresistible to men and woman. I'm such a player pimp," Tommy stated, winking at me and leaning back on his chair, pushing his plate of food towards me. "I'm not hungry, knock yourself out. But if you ever take any food off my plate again, I swear to Satan, I'll kill you…" he hissed and I gulped. Note to self: Don't take Tommy's food.

But I shrugged off the fear and I smirked lightly as I picked up his fork and couldn't help but notice the black lipstick that stained the shiny metal. Oh, well. What's the worse that could happen if I tasted a bit of Tommy? I put some scrambled eggs on the fork and put it in my mouth. Hmmm…It tastes of, cinnamon? I mean, I knew Tommy smelt like cinnamon, but he tasted like it too? Odd…If I were to kiss him, would his tongue smother my coffee flavored mouth?

I eyed Tommy slightly and he looked at me, flipping his long blond bangs lightly. "Whatcha looking at, Babyboy?" he asked, raising a thin brown brow. Fuck. I know I said it before, and I'll say it again. He's so fucking irresistible I can barely stand it. Why can't he be GAY? This isn't fair, no, not one bit.

I shrugged and smiled charmingly at him. "Nothing, I just admire you is all. You're so sweet," I cooed, rubbing my left boot against his creeper with a flirtatious smirk on my face. He seemed to blush a bit and kicked my ankle. "Stop…" he mumbled, a faint tint of red covering his normally pale cheeks.

Score one for Adam.

Tommy's phone suddenly rang and he answered it, still glaring at me slightly. "Hey mom, what's up?" he asked. His eyes suddenly went from a glare to complete shock and disbelief. My playful smirk quickly disappeared and was overtaken with an expression of concern and curiosity.

When we were in Portland, Tommy had received a phone call that his father had been hospitalized due to an illness. He had to leave that concert, and I didn't feel right that night when singing Fever, or any song for that matter. My mind of locked on my bassist and whether or not his father would make it. Plus, I don't have the same vibe or appeal when I'm rubbing against Monte or any of my dancers. Tommy is my main go to guy when it comes to sexually entertaining the crowd. Sorry, Oregon. But you didn't get the FULL ON sex appeal.

"T-Thanks, mom. I-I'm sorry…" he whispered, slowly hanging up his phone and looking at me. His eyes weren't brimming with tears, but they were glossy. "My dad's dead…" he uttered, just staring at me.

"Oh, Glitters…" I cooed, reaching over the table and hugging him. I have no idea how I would want people to react to the news of my dad dying. But my loyal friendliness (is that even a word? Pssh, whatever, it's going in the Adam Lambert Dictionary. Oh, wait. It is a word? Shit, that would be copyrighted, huh? Never mind, I'll stick to glambuldge and glamtastic) took over and I couldn't help but touch him affectingly in this troubled time.

Shit. Today wasn't go to go as smoothly as I thought…