Wanna Tell Me About It? part 3

[pensnest]

Gina called on Saturday to tell Adam if he wanted to visit the hospital the best time would be three thirty that afternoon. She was co-ordinating visitors to make sure Jem didn't get overwhelmed.

Jem was scarily bruised but trying very hard to be cheerful, and already a great favorite with the nursing staff, one of whom had practically threatened Adam with death if he so much as thought about hugging her patient, and all of whom had already promised to watch the show and tell their friends about it. So he bumped fists, and offered the hug to Jem's mother instead. She was remarkably serene considering the situation.

Adam offered to explain what he knew of the script changes so far, but Jem was ahead of him. "Lance came by earlier," he said. "He brought a copy of the outline Joey and the team are working to. Then he went off to see where he could get a couple days on a hospital set somewhere. He said there's so many medical dramas there'd be something sitting around empty."

"I'd have thought that was more Melinda's territory," Adam said, "booking sets and scheduling."

"Yeah, probably, but Lance knows, like, everyone, and if they don't owe him a favor he just charms them into doing one anyway."

"He's a good boy," Jem's mother said. "He called me right off when this fool boy of mine got himself into a scrap with a car, and he called whenever he had news, right through the night while I was in the air."

Adam was puzzled. "I thought he and Joey were working on script revisions on Thursday night."

"He was here, with his laptop and his cell," Jem said. "He's my emergency contact number, so when I was brought in here they called him and he came right over. It was nice having someone on my side who knew what was happening. And could deal with the insurance details. I was kind of out of it."

"You look like you're awake right now. Are they giving you enough painkillers?"

"The leg's not too bad, now it's properly set and I can keep it elevated. It's the heavy breathing that really gets to me, with the ribs being all, you know. But I want to get back on my feet, so I'm going to do everything to make this work." Jem looked tired as well as banged up, but his determination was obvious.

Adam didn't stay long, because Elena arrived after fifteen minutes, and he left the two moms, real mom and screen mom, bonding over the foolishness of male children who didn't look both ways when they crossed the street.


The courier showed up around nine on Saturday evening with three more scenes for Adam, so he spent Sunday lolling about the house in pajama pants and learning his lines. He was getting an increasingly good feeling about the way the enforced changes were working out, because from what he could tell, the revised script was kicking ass.

* * *

Monday went great. The two scenes with their guest star weren't too scarily rewritten, and caused no problems. Adam had a little time after lunch before he was wanted for that new scene with Gina, and thought he might drop by the writers' room to say they were doing a great job, since a little encouragement never did anyone any harm. They made a fuss of him, possibly because he arrived with pastries.

"If you see Lance on your way out, could you tell him we could use a few minutes," Joey said as Adam was on his way out.

There was no sign of Lance, but Adam figured he'd be sure to check on the writing sooner or later, and decided not to worry about it. He should probably not invest too much in that kiss. Lance probably just meant—no, he wasn't going to think about it anymore. He couldn't.

He and Gina got through their scene together in record time. They'd established a real rapport with all the improvisation, and the dialog just clicked. Agnes was delighted, and whisked Gina away to the office set at once.

Oddly reluctant to leave, Adam smiled around at his set. His bar. It wasn't flash, it was a nice, homey place, a bit kitschy here and there but comfortable. Also, nicely co-ordinated with his totally fabulous peacock-themed costumes. Cosy booths, dark blue leatherette—

Okay, so he found Lance.

Fast asleep along the booth's bench seat. Flat on his back with his tie crooked —he must have had meetings today—and his shirt a little bit untucked, he looked as innocent as the tv teenager with the big eyes and the carefully spiked hair. Unbelievably cute.

It seemed a pity to wake him, but he wouldn't want to be caught sleeping on the job. Adam didn't need to have spent much time around Lance to have figured that out. He should definitely wake him. And it seemed like a perfect opportunity to… Before he could talk himself out of it, Adam bent over and kissed him gently on the lips.

So much for fairytales. Lance didn't stir. Adam wasn't sure whether to feel disappointed or relieved—sure, Lance might have woken up and kept right on with the kissing. Then again, he might have been just a bit horrified. On balance, randomly kissing someone while they were asleep was a bad idea, he decided, so it was just as well Lance had not woken up.

"Is there someone—oh, hi, Adam." It was Lisa, with her clipboard and a slight frown. "Have you seen Lance?"

Adam pointed, and she hurried over. "Oh, my. You know what, we should let him sleep. I know he was up all night Thursday and he can't have had more than an hour or two a night since then. Every morning he has these lists of everything that has to be done, and he's been giving Joey notes on the scripts, and he'll kill himself trying to cover it all if we let him. So he should sleep. Everybody knows what to do."

They edged quietly towards the door. "Won't he be cranky when he wakes up?" Adam suggested. "It can't be comfortable, lying on that bench seat."

Lisa thought for a moment. "I'll wake him at four-thirty," she decided. "And I'll get Joey to make him go home to sleep. He won't listen to anyone else."

As they made their way out of Chance's Bar, Adam did his best casual inquiry voice and asked, "Does Lance have time for a personal life? I mean, he already seemed kinda busy before all this came up."

Lisa looked at him. "When you say, personal life, do you mean, is he seeing someone?"

"No, no, I just—he—if there's someone at home who's going to be surprised that he didn't show up…"

"He isn't seeing anyone."

"Ah." Adam had been pretty sure that was the case. Although, "There was a guy on last week's show, I saw them hugging, so I thought maybe—"

"Oh, you must mean Jesse. He's a sweetheart. They used to be a thing, him and Lance, and he's trying to get into acting, and Lance is always ready to do a friend a favor, so."

"Right," Adam said. "I wondered. So it's—they're not dating anymore, then?"

"No, no, that was years ago. But I think he was the first guy Lance really—anyway, it's over now." She looked at him narrowly. "Are you interested?"

"I—no! Not that he wasn't cute, but no."

"I meant, are you interested in Lance? You are, aren't you! Has he said anything to you? Do you think he—"

"There's nothing going on, I swear. I mean. Yes, I think Lance is—but I don't think he—" Because gorgeous ex-TV-superstars-turned-executive-producers were obviously going to be interested in small-time actors with negligible experience and bad skin. In Adam's remarkably persistent fantasies, that was true, but in the real world, Adam didn't think it was very likely. Lance could have anyone. He didn't need to date a person who was only going to be famous because—well, because of Lance.

"Oh, you're just his type, tall, good looking, great smile. No, you're better than his type, 'cause you actually have talent. Mostly they just think they have, and Lance doesn't notice until after he broke up with them that they really don't."

"Meow!" Adam said, appreciatively, and Lisa giggled.

"You should go for it. Ask him out."

"Do you think so?" It wasn't like Adam hadn't been thinking about it, well, daydreaming about it. And just last Friday, Lance had kissed him. So maybe it wasn't such an impossible idea.

"Definitely! You'd be just what he needs. That is, you would if you're looking for an actual relationship. If you just want sex, then—not that Lance couldn't do with getting laid, but he does tend to fall in love, you know? And he deserves someone. He deserves a good guy."

"There's no guarantees," Adam pointed out. "I'm not talking about a one-night stand, but there's no guarantee we'd work out."

Lisa shrugged. "Nobody expects a guarantee. If you don't go into it for what you can get, and you don't screw him over, that's fair." She beamed up at him. "Oh, this is great! You two would be so cute together!"

"You know, if he wants to date me, he could ask me out already."

She gestured dismissively with her clipboard. "He has some stupid hangups. I'll work on it. Trust me." She grinned in a way that made Adam feel ever so slightly nervous, and bounced away.

"Thanks for the pep talk," he called.

* * *

Lance was still a little bit disgruntled about being left asleep on one of the sets while everyone got on with the show without him. It wasn't that he didn't trust his people. He did. They were good, all of them, or he wouldn't have picked them. He knew he was being unreasonable. He tried very hard not to let it show. He knew a couple of hours of very badly needed sleep weren't anything to be ashamed of, and he knew there was nothing he'd wanted done in those two hours that hadn't been done.

It was just… this was his show. His baby. If he wasn't on top of things, every minute, if something went wrong because he wasn't—it was his show.

But he knew he had to get over it.

It helped that he was still incredibly busy. The writers were doing amazing work on the revisions he and Joey had agreed, and in consequence there were production meetings on the revised episodes, there were unsettled directors to be mollified, there were budgets to be re-examined, oh, there was no shortage of work. He couldn't complain about that, for sure.

It had been a mistake, kissing Adam like that. Not that it was a proper—it wasn't as though he'd—there was no reason why Adam would think he meant anything by it. He hoped. It had been completely inappropriate, though, because Adam Lambert worked for him. He could not get involved with someone who worked for him. He'd already been there, done that, had his heart broken. Not again. It didn't matter that Adam was temptation incarnate, Lance was not going to get involved with someone who worked for him, for everyone's sake. It wasn't only that he couldn't trust the motives of someone who'd sleep with the boss, or that other people in the production couldn't trust him to be uninfluenced, either. But even if they were all totally cool, it'd get out into the wider community and Adam's reputation would suffer. There'd always be a question mark—did he just get the job because he fucked the show runner?

Not fair. Lance was not going to put Adam in that situation. Not that he should assume Adam even wanted—he had no cause to think—anyway, it wasn't going to happen so he had to stop thinking about it.

It helped that he was incredibly busy.

* * *

"I have to keep reminding myself I'm back on set," Jem said ruefully from his hospital bed, between takes.

"I thought you were going to bribe Joey to write you a hot nurse," Gina told him fondly. "Since you're doing all your scenes lying down."

"I'm just hoping my physical therapist on the show is kinder than the one in the hospital," he said. "Prepare for me to be seriously cranky once I get this cast off and start the exercises."

"Okay, guys, let's try that again, with Mickey a bit more exasperated this time, please," Agnes called. "You're tired, you're in pain, you're getting pissed at Ace for not wanting to get on with the job."

"And I thought they hired me to act," Jem muttered.

They'd done their best to keep Jem's workload to a minimum, but he was one of the leads and they couldn't just consign him to the hospital and forget about him, he had to be a part of the action somehow. So for this episode they had planned a bunch of shots of Mickey in bed frowning over the laptop, as well as being reproached by Mama Manetti, and some great scenes of Mickey encouraging Ace to get out there and charm information out of people.

Lance wasn't the only person who'd wanted to be there when Jem got back. It felt like everyone in the cast had taken the time to drop by and say hi, and when the first scene was complete there was a round of enthusiastic applause. "All right, people," Lance called. "Let's let them get on with it now, thanks everyone."

As the crowd began to disperse, a voice beside him said, "You know, I feel bad about this."

Lance realized that even with all those people gathered, he'd managed to fit himself next to Adam again. He should stop doing that. "Bad about what?"

"You know, with Jem being injured."

"Unless you were driving the car that hit him, I don't see that you have anything to feel bad about. Oh, wouldn't that make a great plot for… never mind." Although… yeah, he'd have to think about that one. He'd better talk to Joey. Who was right there, so—"Hey, Joe!"

"No, no, God, no," Adam was saying. "It's just, I came out of this with some great scenes, I feel sorta guilty."

"Guilty about what?" said Joey.

"Doesn't matter," Adam said. "That was a good call, incorporating the broken leg into the script."

"Not that we had a lot of options," Lance said. "And this way, he gets to do his scenes in bed, at least this week."

"Yeah," said Joey, "and I get to learn more than I ever thought I'd need to know about how they treat broken legs these days. We have to figure out in advance what stage Jem'll be at so we can write the script, then he lives through it, then we shoot it after. We have charts. So long as he makes a textbook recovery, we'll be fine. We have him in the wheelchair for next week's scenes."

"TNT is changing the schedule, starting the run earlier, giving us a mid-season break," Lance said. "It gives him longer to recover before we shoot the second part of the season, and it'll give the writing team and pre-production a chance to get their balance back." He was trying very hard not to show how worried he was about this. It wasn't that it was unusual to have a break—he'd been surprised as well as delighted when they'd originally planned to run the show straight through, but this change of plans would give the network the perfect opportunity to cancel his precious show after only half a season, and with an injured star and quite a lot of rewrites to get through, things were already a bit more expensive than they'd bargained for. But he was determined not to spread pessimism through the ranks, and was going for the positive angle. And it was true, the extra time would give Jem the chance to get back to full strength.

"I have a feeling a lot of the viewers are going to like seeing Mickey all bruised and brave," Adam said. "I was a bit worried, though, seeing him banged up like that, until I remembered you sent Katya along to take photos."

"Yeah, the real bruises are looking a lot less dramatic now."

Joey was still muttering about charts.

"Anyhow," Lance said, "you really don't need to feel guilty. I mean, you did get some great scenes, but I think the show is one hundred percent better because we had this to deal with. Sure, it's been a hell of a thing, and we're not out of the woods yet, and the writers are all walking around like the living dead—"

"Braaaaaiiiins," intoned Joey, and an extra just ahead of them jumped about a foot in the air and scuttled away.

"—not to mention I've had three directors screaming at me about screwing with their prep time," Lance went on, trying not to laugh, "but we've gotten a way better characterization for Ace, and we'll do the same for Mickey now he knows he isn't immortal. And yeah, we got to use Chance in more interesting ways, and Carla too. Seriously, I wouldn't wish it on anybody, but I think we made it through."

"We should remember it next time we try to write a show together," said Joey. "Not that I'm ever in my life going to write another show with this slavedriver, but throwing a totally random catastrophe into the mix, it makes things interesting."

Adam grinned. "Well, I think you did a great job—I mean, you're still doing a great job." He waved and headed off in the direction of Wardrobe. Lance tried not to watch him go. Adam had an exceptionally fine ass.

"Speaking of random catastrophes," Joey said, "tell me I did not see the name I thought I saw on the list for episode nine. Tell me you are not letting that asshole onto our set. Tell me you did not lose your mind!"

Lance considered pretending ignorance, but it wasn't going to fly. "The director likes him for the part. And you gotta admit—"

"You lost your mind. You lost your fucking mind! You cannot tell me you want him here!"

"No, not really, but you know Jesse came in for episode four, so—"

"So it's only fair to hire the other asshole who jerked you around, too." Joey stopped, frowning. "You know, it's okay not to be nice to everybody. Sometimes, people ought to get what's coming to them."

"It's not a big deal, Joey. It's really not." Lance sighed. "Look, okay, I was going to do something about it, but then this thing with Jem came up and we hardly had time to breathe and I just—it didn't seem important enough to make time for and I erased it from my list. There's way more significant stuff to worry about. So let it go, will you? I have to go read through a load of problems for the radio show with Adam next Monday."

"Well, don't let them give you any script ideas! We've got enough lined up for another whole season," Joey said. "And we're never using that director again!"

Lance was okay with that.

* * *

Adam was a bit taken aback to discover Lance already seated in the car that arrived to take him to Manic FM.

"Oh, Bonnie and I go way back," Lance said. "I called her up and said she should use you on the show. I know it's maybe a bit early, promo wise, but I honestly wasn't expecting her to find us a spot so soon. And she wouldn't put you on the show unless I did it, too. She had me record a couple of idents." He flashed a sheepish smile, but Adam didn't see a problem with it.

"No point using me to get people listening, when nobody even heard of me yet," Adam said. Although, you know what, somebody asked me for an autograph just this week! Said she saw the new trailer and was I the guy who did the 'wanna tell me about it' line! My first autograph!"

Lance grinned at him. He had such a pretty smile. "Enjoy it while it's new. Once the show starts airing, you'll find being recognizable has its down side."

"When do we find out if they're going to renew?"

Lance laughed. "First we have to make it through the season. Lots of shows get canceled before they even finish out the first season."

Adam groaned. More stuff to worry about.

"Yeah. I guess we have to hope we make an impact in those first half-dozen shows. I think we will. Then they decide if they want to keep us on the air for the full seventeen episodes, which we should know by the time we're shooting number fourteen or thereabouts, and after that, they tell us when they tell us, I guess."

"Man, I'm glad I'm not a producer. And I thought going to auditions was nerve-racking!"

"Don't worry about it. Just keep doing what you're doing. I don't worry about things I can't change, I just try to make sure everything's as good as I can make it, and hey, I'd be doing that anyhow."

"I don't know how you can get your head around it all," Adam said.

"I love it," Lance said, surprised.

"You don't miss acting?"

"Nah, not really. Anyway, I do a bit, here and there. Joey talked me into an appearance on the show, episode eleven, I think, or maybe twelve, I can't remember which. In theory, it should be good for ratings." He laughed. "I hope it is, 'cause that'd be embarrassing, if nobody cares. And that reminds me, I wanted to get Joey to do an appearance, get him to play a villainous uncle or something, and he keeps blowing me off, the rat." He fished out his cellphone and typed a note to himself. "My life—just one problem after another. Best job in the world."

"Well," said Adam, "speaking of problems, I listened to the Manic FM show last week, and some of the stuff they read out—it's okay to get explicit, right?"

"Judging from the problems they mostly get, I'd say it's required," Lance replied, grinning. "Which is all right for you, because you have no shame, but I'm probably going to spend most of my time blushing and hiding under the desk. I'd bet any money Bonnie's saved some really juicy ones for us."

Adam laughed. "I bet you look really cute when you blush," he said, and Lance eyed him reproachfully. But he was obviously trying not to laugh. Adam grinned. He was looking forward to this.


Bonnie looked just like she sounded on the radio, a big, cheerful, African American woman with very shrewd eyes. She greeted Lance with a hug, told him it had been way too long, then looked Adam up and down and whistled appreciatively.

They went into the studio and Bonnie explained the set-up and handed them some papers with a few of the write-in problems so they could think up some answers before they got going. "We'll probably open it up to callers as well, it depends how you two manage."

Headphones, mikes, this sort of set-up was getting fairly familiar to Adam now from his radio spots with JC. This show would be a bit different—mostly because it was two hours long—but Adam was fairly confident he could at least find something to say for most of these. He jotted down a few notes on the pages.

And they were live, and Bonnie was introducing them, making a big deal of Lance and then presenting Adam as a future television star who had a little expertise in solving problems on the soon-to-be-aired show, Family Business, on TNT.

So Lance talked a little bit about the show, and then Adam talked a little bit about his character, and then, the moment of truth.

"Time to get to our first problem, and this one's a little bit unusual. We have an email from Janine, who says, I'm pregnant, and taking good care of myself, but I have this one craving. I have to have Cheetos! I have just one small bag every day, I asked my doctor, and she says I'm not doing the baby any harm, but my husband and my mom and my best friend seem to think I spend my whole life lazing around eating junk food, and they always seem to find me right after I finish the bag and have that tell-tale orange dust all over my fingers. How can I get them off my back? Well, Janine, I don't know if our two guests have any tips for a pregnant lady, but let's see. Adam?"

"Eat them with chopsticks," Adam said.

There was a moment of awed silence. "That is perfect!" Bonnie exclaimed. "You hear that, Janine? Don't get into it with the husband, just keep your fingers clean."

"That's why we let him improvise," Lance said. "He's pretty smart." They high-fived behind Bonnie's back as she picked up the next problem, which turned out to be a kid who was having trouble scheduling his weekly activities. Lance was good for that one, so they were on a roll. Then Lance, deeply apologetic, had to duck out to take a call, so Adam dealt with the next problem, sent in by a man whose kid sister was talking about leaving her job to go spend six months in Europe on some bizarre project that, he said, was going to wreck her promising career. He was trying to find a way to persuade her not to go.

"The thing is," Adam said, "you can't make the decision for her. It's definitely going to bite you in the ass one day. Sooner or later, she'll find out, and she'll resent you for taking the decision away from her. In your email, you say, aren't I supposed to stop her doing something stupid? I'm her big brother, I've always taken care of her. But, see, it's not your life, it's hers. You say she's going to jump off a cliff, and maybe she is, but what if half-way down she learns to fly? If she does fail, your job is to be there for her after, and not say I told you so. So tell her what you think the problems are. Make sure she has all the facts. But it has to be her call."

Lance slid back into his seat in time to endorse this. "If you stop her, if you frighten her with scare stories and don't let her step off the conventional path," he said, "she could miss out on the best thing to ever happen to her. My parents didn't want me to quit high school and join a television series, but they told me it had to be my choice, and it turned out great."

"Exactly," said Bonnie. "And it has to be your sister's call, not yours. You can't make other people's decisions for them."

During the commercials, Bonnie smiled at them. "You did good with this one," she told Lance. "Cute and smart. We'll get a bit more explicit after the break. I have a caller for you."

The caller was a nineteen-year-old called David who was planning on sleeping with his boyfriend but hadn't ever had sex before and wanted some tips on how to be good in bed. Lance windmilled in Adam's direction, looking horrified.

"Oh, boy. Well, David, listen up," Adam said, confidently. "You know, the way I see it, you've already got a big advantage here. You can practice on your own. Right? I mean, gay guys, and lesbians, we have all the equipment right there at home, so you can test it out, find out what feels good, you know. And I don't just mean varying speed and grip, I mean explore your own body. You probably have sensitive spots you never thought of, and your boyfriend won't have the same ones but it should give you some ideas. And, you know, put a finger inside your ass, that way you'll know what it feels like to put a finger in there, and you'll know how it feels to have a finger in there, right? Two fingers, even three. Toys, if you have them. And lots of lube. Always. First rule of gay sex, you can never have too much lube. Well, actually, you can, but that just means you have funny stories you can only tell your friends when you're all really drunk."

Bonnie, chuckling, interrupted. "We're all assuming that you know the deal with safe sex, right, David? Condoms, condoms, condoms. And anyone who wants to do it without a condom is just the kind of guy you shouldn't do it with at all, because that's just sleazy."

Yeah, we had the talk, said their caller.

Lance leaned in to the microphone. "I wanted to say, David, congratulations on finding someone who cares about you and you care about, and not just grabbing the first available body. Sex is way better with someone who matters. But, you know, your worries about not being any good at sex, I think you need to look at that a different way."

Er, okay, the caller said. I'm not exactly sure what you mean.

"Well, David, you're all nervous because you haven't had sex before and you don't want to disappoint your boyfriend—let's call him Jonathan," Lance said. "But, David, remember this: you know, and Jonathan knows, that you haven't done this before. You're neither of you expecting you to be an expert. "

No, that's why I—

"Your guy Jonathan's under way more pressure, because he's the one who has had sex before. He's probably worried that he won't be able to make your first time really special, he's probably scared that he really isn't that great at sex and he's going to disappoint you. I mean, you said he's just a couple of years older than you, so just how much experience is he gonna have?"

I never thought of it like that, said David.

"You know, that's a very good point," said Bonnie. "So, Lance, Adam, what do you advise?"

"Jump his bones," Adam said, promptly. "Seriously. You're going over to his place, right?"

Yeah, for dinner first.

"You know, a romantic evening with the big seduction planned for the end, that's just giving poor Jonathan hours to worry himself into all kinds of performance anxiety. So how about instead, when you show up at his place, forget about dinner, just take the initiative. Back him up to the wall or onto the couch and kiss him until he's kissing you back, then kiss some more, because making out is always good, right? Then just slide down and give him a blowjob. Nothing relaxes a guy like a blowjob, trust me."

"And do you have any tips on how to give a great blowjob? I think David wants some advice on technique," Bonnie said.

Yes, please! said their caller.

"Can I come in on this one?" Lance said, to Adam's surprise. "See, David, there actually isn't any one technique that's going to make you instantly good in bed. There really isn't. I mean, we'd all like to know that secret, right? But you can get to be good at all kinds of sex if you just remember that the most important person in the bed is not you."

"And that's true for everybody, by the way, gay, straight, whatever," said Bonnie.

"Absolutely. The deal is, you have to concentrate on figuring out the exact things that turn your partner on," Lance said. "Sometimes you get lucky and your partner is a talker. He'll tell you exactly what he's feeling, if it's good, if it's amazing, just an inch to the left, please don't stop, you know the kind of thing. But sometimes you get someone who doesn't say anything at all, so you have to work harder. Like, notice if he, uh, goes tense, or the way he moves his body towards you or away from you, or the way he breathes. And it'll take you a while, because you don't just have to notice his reactions, you have to learn what the signs mean. But I promise you, if you really pay attention to what Jonathan likes, you'll turn out to be good in bed—with Jonathan. And that's what matters, right?"

"Plus," said Adam, "lots of enthusiasm. Make sure he knows you really, really want him. That'll do it."

"Okay, some great advice there from both our guests, Adam Lambert and Lance Bass. David, you get to practice on your own first, then have a great time with your boyfriend. Come back and tell us how it went, you hear? You don't have to include the details, but we're not gonna object if you do!" Bonnie cut to another commercial, and beamed.

They dealt with all kinds of problems, from manscaping to safewords, from a girl whose boyfriend was way more interested in her shoes than she thought was reasonable, to a complicated and disturbing account of an obviously abusive relationship, to how to make the best coffee (which turned out to be the most controversial one of the night, as the three of them had totally different opinions). Adam was quite disappointed when they got to the end of the show, and signed off with a reminder to everyone to watch Family Business, starting eight days from now.

"That was great, guys, really great," Bonnie said after the hand-off. "You should do this again, maybe after your show starts airing we can have you back?"

"That sounds like a plan," Lance said. "Seriously, this was good. Thanks for having us on the show."

"It was a lot of fun," Adam agreed. "Except for the woman with the scary boyfriend. I hope we helped."

"You never know. Sometimes we do. I get letters back from people, once in a while, saying thanks for the advice. Mostly I think they just need to hear somebody else tell them what they already know they need to do."

"Come for a drink with us," Lance suggested. "It's been too long since we had the chance to catch up."

"I would, but," she sighed, "my poor husband's gonna think I ran off with my producer if I don't get home before one thirty. Next time, for sure."

So Lance hugged her again, and Adam hugged her too, and they said goodbye to her producer, who was delighted with how the show had gone and said he would be in touch with Melinda to schedule a repeat appearance.

"Want a drink?" Lance said as they went down the stairs. "There's a nice place just around the corner."

Right there, the butterflies in Adam's stomach started fluttering again.

* * *

Lance ushered Adam into a booth, and a waiter appeared at once to take their order. Lance fiddled with the coaster for a moment, obviously not ready to meet Adam's eyes. "I feel kind of—I didn't mean to set you up for this, but I didn't think… You do realize you just outed yourself, right?" he said.

Adam stared at him. "Outed myself? I am out. I mean, I wasn't in."

"Sure, but being out to people you know isn't like being out to… to the audience."

"I guess not. Um. Does it matter?"

"It's fine, if you're fine with it. I mean, we're making a show about how everyone can be family, whoever they are and whatever they look like," Lance said. "It'd be kind of ridiculous to start making a fuss about having a gay man in the cast. Besides, I'm the last person to do that, obviously. It's just, well. You don't always know how people will react."

"I didn't mean to cause any problems," Adam said. "Will it be a problem? Will the network people be unhappy? I mean, I am gay. I never even thought about hiding it."

"No," Lance said, firmly. "It won't be a problem. Hey, you never know, it could turn out to be an asset. I mean, when I came out I got some incredible mail from fans, I think they love me more now than back when I was on the show. You'll be visible, and that's a good thing. And the kind of people who'll hate you for it wouldn't get to be Chance fans anyway."

Their drinks arrived, and Lance dropped a couple of bills on the waiter's tray. "Cheers," he said. "To a successful show that runs for years." They clinked glasses.

"With many totally fabulous songs for me to sing," Adam added. "Do you really have more fans now than you did on the show?" More fans, for being openly gay? It sounded too good to be true.

"Maybe not more, but better ones," said Lance. "Some of the letters that came in after that People magazine article damn near made me cry. Just… incredible. Like, twelve year old kids deciding to come out to their families because they could point to me and say, look, he's gay too." He ducked his head for a moment, then looked up and grinned wickedly. Adam's belly tightened. "I'm thinking of telling my friend Chris he should come out. He's always complaining about his dismal love life."

"Writer Chris, or accounts Chris?" Adam asked, thinking of Family Business staffers.

"No, no, I meant Chris Kirkpatrick."

"Chris Kirkpatrick is gay? Seriously?"

"No, no! God, no. Totally straight. But you would not believe how many women flirt with me since I came out. I have no idea why that happens." I have, Adam thought. "When Chris comes to LA I'm gonna make him so jealous."

"Do you see him often?"

"No, not enough, but he's going to be on the show. I twisted his arm real hard."

"He is!" Adam was delighted. "That's awesome! He was my very first crush. Well, if you don't count Miss Henshaw. She was my teacher in second grade."

"You had a crush on Chris? Interesting."

"Oh, he was all, with the hair, and he never cared what anybody said. I thought that was cool," Adam said, wistfully. "I wanted to be like that. Not that I would have worn those braids, but I wished I could not care what other people said about me." He wondered, for a moment, whether it was really stupid to let his teenage hangups out for Lance to see, but hell. He wasn't going to pretend to be someone else, not even for Lance.

"Chris always was the coolest person I ever met," Lance said. "Although… I would have expected you to be the coolest kid in high school, at least."

Adam shook his head. "I was so not cool in high school. I was fat, I was a natural redhead and covered in stupid freckles, and I was a drama geek. Plus I was gay, even though I didn't tell anyone back then. It's a wonder I got out alive."

"I have a hard time imagining you as a redhead. The black really suits you. And freckles aren't so bad. I have freckles."

Adam leaned towards him, narrowing his eyes. "You have a tiny sprinkle of cute little freckles over your nose." He stroked Lance's nose with one finger, and Lance's eyes crossed, but he didn't draw back. "Those don't count."

"Everybody else's freckles are cute, huh? Is that why you always have makeup on?"

"Mostly, yeah. You don't want to see me without my makeup, trust me."

"I would not put money on it," Lance said unexpectedly. "But I totally understand how it feels to be insecure about your appearance. Hell, I had to stand next to Justin Timberlake and JC Chasez for years." He shrugged.

"No, no, what you mean is, they had to stand next to you!" Lance blinked at him in surprise. Adam hurriedly changed the subject. "So what's Chris Kirkpatrick doing nowadays?" he asked. "I don't remember seeing him in anything lately."

"He does experimental theater in tiny venues in Orlando, Florida," Lance said, "and he does theater workshops with children. He loves it. He's always been amazing with kids, and he doesn't give a shit about being famous."

"Cool. Uh, will I get to do scenes with him?"

Lance laughed. "Yeah, you will."

"I love my life," Adam declared, drained his glass, and beamed.

"JC hasn't stopped talking about your gig."

Adam felt his own grin stretch even wider, he couldn't help it. "It was an incredible night. Fantastic, jamming with such a great singer. I wish we could have gone on for hours."

"I wish I could have seen it," Lance said. "JC's always been amazing on stage, and the two of you up there singing All Day Long I Dream About Sex must have been a hell of a thing. Anyway, he wants to bring your band in for the season finale," Lance said. "With a big number you can blow the roof off with—he's working with a couple of other songwriters, I won't tell you who they are but I think you'll be pleased. Joey's talking about maybe bringing in more guest bands and singers next season. Assuming we get a next season, that is."

"Unknowns or famous ones?" Adam said, eagerly.

"I'm trying not to count too many chickens," Lance said, grinning. "It'll depend on our audience figures, mostly. Once we get the demographics I'll try floating it with TNT. If they think it'll sell ad space, we have a chance."

"So meanwhile we pray to the gods of television?"

"Yeah, that's about right."

Adam's smile suddenly didn't seem to fit his face properly. "Uh, actually, there was something I wanted to ask you about." He didn't want to kill the mood, they were getting along so well, but he had to do this.

"Sure," Lance said, sounding suddenly wary, "go ahead."

"Well, it's, I want to do someone a favor, only I'm not sure if it's—I guess I should ask Joey, but I don't want to put him on the spot if it's something I shouldn't be asking, so I thought maybe you could tell me if it'd be okay." He paused, and Lance nodded encouragingly. "It's my brother. He wants to be a writer, and he's interested in television, so I just wondered if he could maybe spend a day on set, to see what happens on a TV show? Maybe have a chance to talk to Joey or someone else from the writing team about putting a script together, if they have time."

"Absolutely, go ahead. Joey won't mind. Ask the director, too, because sometimes they don't like having people hanging around on set. And make sure you let Lisa know what day he's coming in."

"Cool. Thanks. Wow, that's a relief! I didn't want to make Joey uncomfortable, only I feel like, I'm so lucky being able to do what I'm doing, and if I can maybe help Neil do what he wants to do…"

"You are allowed to ask for favors," Lance said, gently, and his hand reached over and covered Adam's hand. Nearly covered, because Lance's hand was smaller. "Everyone does it. Getting your brother on set, that's not exactly a diva move."

"What else could I possibly ask for? I have this great job, and I can already see my role's getting bigger and better, plus I get to work with JC and sing every week, and I didn't even ask for any of it, it's just happening. Seriously, I wake up some mornings wondering if I didn't really wake up at all, if this is still a dream."

"It does feel like that, I guess," Lance said, and he didn't take his hand away, and they talked about Synchronicity for a while, and it was just possible Adam gave away a bit more than he'd ever meant to about how much of a fan he was, back in high school, but Lance just laughed and seemed to think it was cute. In fact, from the way Lance kept looking at him, Adam was fairly certain Lance thought Adam was… well, cute would do. Better than cute. Lance had such beautiful eyes, that incredible light green, hard to read; but Adam's gaze kept slipping down to his mouth, to the way his tongue licked traces of his drink from his pretty lips.

"I was honestly wondering if I'd ever make it," Adam said. "I guess I don't fit into expectations very well, whenever I'd get an audition I'd get all, you know, and then it never came to anything."

"I wanted to cast you in the Jason Friday movie," Lance said. "But they wanted someone less, uh, expectation-challenging."

"Is that code for 'less gay'?"

Lance shrugged ruefully. "Johnny Wright is a brilliant producer, but, you know."

Adam smiled, remembering his assumptions and hoping he wasn't blushing. "Things worked out better for me than getting some movie of the week would have done, so I guess it's lucky they picked Kris Allen instead. Did you see it? I thought he was really good."

"I actually realized I wanted you for our singing bartender right after that audition," Lance said. "Had to talk Joey into having live music instead of a jukebox, but it's going to make our show stand out. Everyone does music, but nobody else has you singing it and JC writing it."

Adam laughed. He couldn't help it—he'd been so completely wrong, back then, completely wrong about Lance, it was almost ridiculous. Then he remembered something, and sobered. "Well, shit."

Lance raised an enquiring eyebrow.

"I just—it's just—" Adam took a deep breath, and recaptured Lance's hand. "See, if we get together, people could point at us and say I got this gig because I'm sleeping with the producer and I lured you into it with my amazing sexual wiles," he said in a rush. Talk about burning bridges.

Lance looked at him for a long, long moment. "You're that good in bed?"

"Absolutely," Adam said, and held Lance's gaze. Three seconds later, he broke, and laughed. "Honestly, I have no idea. How good would I have to be to get a job like this?"

Lance put his head in his hands, and shook. "Oh, Adam Lambert. You are just… I did not see that coming."

"Yeah." After all that sensible advice he'd been dishing out on Bonnie's show, he was letting his heart overrule his head. "Guess I should have asked the problem page gurus first, huh?"

"You're the one with the answers," Lance said, and his other hand crept across the table to that their fingertips touched. "I wasn't going to even ask, because it wouldn't be fair, except when you said earlier, when you said to that guy with the sister that you can't make the big decisions for someone else, I thought maybe that's what I was doing, making the call without asking how you felt about it. Also I'm kind of scared, because I've been burned already, but here you are wondering if you have the right to ask for something that's totally fine, I know you're not going to start demanding that I give you anything you don't already deserve. God, I've been spending too much time with JC, listen to me babbling." He took a deep breath. "How do you feel about dating your boss?"

"I think it would be awesome," Adam said. He didn't dare smile, he might never be able to stop.

"Yeah, well, so do I," said Lance. "Only, you have to think very carefully about this. There's too many issues, and if you weren't so—if I didn't want—I wouldn't even think about it. There goes your reputation, because some people will say you only got the job because you're fucking the show runner, that's going to happen."

"These will be deeply stupid people who don't know either of us, right?"

"Of course," said Lance, trying to frown at him, "but mud sticks. And other people in the cast could, well, they might think you were getting special treatment, it could destroy the atmosphere. And probably other stuff too that I haven't thought of. We can't just—we can't just get involved without thinking about the consequences. It's your career, Adam, you're ready to be a big star and I don't want to ruin that for you just because you—because I want—I guess what I'm trying to say is, we shouldn't do this. We shouldn't even think about it. Too much can go wrong."

"And yet, here we are, thinking about it."

"Yeah, well, I've seen how you move your hips on stage," Lance said, wryly. "Kinda difficult not to think about what else you might do with them."

"And I just tonight learned that you're incredibly attentive in bed," said Adam. "I'd like very much to experience that for myself." The butterflies were dancing a triumphant flamenco in his stomach.

"Fuck," Lance said. "I thought you'd be sensible about this. I was counting on it!"

"Boy, were you wrong! Lance, listen. I get what you're saying. I do. But… if we cared that much what other people say about us, we'd both be deep, deep in the closet, wouldn't we?" Lance's mouth opened, but apparently he couldn't find an argument for that one. "I know it's a risk. I've been thinking about you a lot, and I'm not an idiot, I know there are all kinds of sensible reasons not to do this. But I—I—" I want you, he thought, and could have shouted it for all the world to hear, or at least, all the bar. Instead he lowered his voice almost to a whisper. "I'd really like to try. Also," he added, carefully, "there's no reason other people would have to know about it, is there? We keep it out of the studio, it's nobody's business but ours."

Lance looked at him and nodded slowly. "I always say, it's the chances you don't take that you regret most."

"Is that a yes?"

"I think we should take this somewhere more private," Lance said, "before I lose all self-control."

"Now that," said Adam, "sounds like my kind of plan."

* * *

Eight days later, and there was quite a crowd in Lance's sitting room, jostling for the best position in front of his huge TV. Everyone had a drink, there were snacks… Lance went back out to the kitchen to get the miniature pizzas out of the oven, they'd be ready any second now.

"Big night tonight," said Joey from the doorway.

"Oh yeah. Looking forward to it?"

"I love seeing a script come alive," Joey said, leaning on the counter to watch as Lance slid his little pizza squares onto a platter. "And getting the audience reactions, that's going to be interesting. You know, finding out if they see what we see."

"God, I hope they do," Lance said. He felt almost fizzy with excitement and apprehension. This had to go well. Had to.

"I meant to say," Joey added, casually, "good call on the singing bartender. Adam's doing great, and it really works."

"I'd love to claim the credit, but you were the one who thought up the role in the first place."

"And you found Adam Lambert," Joey said.

"Yeah, I'm pretty proud of that."

"He asked me if his brother could come in, did he tell you?"

"Yes, we talked about it after we did Bonnie's show," Lance replied smoothly. "Did he come in yet—the brother, I mean?"

"Yesterday. I thought he'd get most out of it if he came in while we were breaking a story," Joey said. "Smart kid. I told him to show me a spec script, and I think he has promise."

"Cool," said Lance, distracted by his oven timer going off belatedly.

"You know, Adam really is a nice guy."

"I—yes?" Lance was startled. He'd grown so used to Adam being, well, adorable, that he'd forgotten his initial doubts—and hey, he hadn't ever told Joey his early suspicions that Adam was a jerk, so what was Joey even talking about? Of course Adam was a nice guy! As well as being the sexiest man on the planet, of course.

"It's about time you had someone in your life who won't fuck you over."

Lance stared. "What?"

"Adam," Joey said. "He's cute, he's a sweetheart, and he's interested. What the hell is stopping you?"

Lance put the platter down. "Are you playing matchmaker? First Lisa, now you—seriously, what the hell?" Lisa had been quiet on the subject of Lance's love-life lately, which was good because he sure as hell wasn't going to give her details, but Lance had not expected Joey, of all people, to stick his nose in.

"Hey, you guys! It's time!" It was Melinda, briefly appearing in the doorway. She disappeared back to the television room, and Lance picked up the pizza platter.

"We'll talk about this soon," Joey said, and it might have been a promise but it sounded more like a warning. Lance scowled at him and led the way back to the other room, where everyone was hushed, waiting for the announcement of Family Business. There was a huge cheer, and it was on.

Lance had seen the show before, of course he had. He and Joey had worked on the re-cut of the pilot, and he'd seen this version with the refreshed scenes, but it felt different with so many others watching, most of whom hadn't seen it in its entirety, even though they worked on the show. Wendy and Melinda were highly excited—they did the pre-production work, but although they always saw the scripts well in advance they never really got to see what happened to them until they were aired.

A storm of conversation broke out in the first commercial break, and it sounded like the friends who weren't involved with the show were liking it so far. Lance offered more drinks and poured himself a large one. He deserved this! Then he forgot to drink it as he got caught up in the story, Ace and Mickey using their separate skills to track down the missing foster-sister, Carla's practical help and cynical commentary, Adam's camp and cheerful advice, the whole delightful, perfectly constructed set-up for their series.

As the final notes of Adam's song came to an end and the Happy Place logo filled the screen, the room erupted with applause and, Lance was sure, genuine appreciation. One of the knots in his stomach seemed to untwist itself—at least his friends liked the show. That was the first hurdle. After this came the audience numbers, and what kind of fan mail would come in, and how the figures stacked up against everything else…

"I'm surprised you're not at the office, or at least on the phone finding out whether we got an audience," Joey said in his ear.

"I thought about it," Lance admitted. "But I wanted, just for tonight, to enjoy the show, to enjoy what we made. It's really good, Joe, it really is."

"It really is," Joey said, and tugged him into a fierce hug, the first of many, as everyone wanted to tell him how much they liked the show, and congratulate him.

The party went on for quite a while, but it was still Tuesday when the last of the guests went home. Most of them were working tomorrow—quite a lot of them were working for Lance tomorrow. No Adam, though. He was in his own place tonight, watching the show with his own friends. And he had an early call, so he wouldn't be up for a late night even after a viewing party.

Although, Lance thought, maybe a friendly, late-night phone call…

* * *