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writetomyheart2014-09-29 01:59 pm
myxstorie.livejournal.com) wrote in writetomyheart2014-09-29 01:59 pm
[Team Two] Sleep
So I've read countless Adam Lambert fics, but only ever written him once, and never as himself. I'm not sure this really counts as writing him either though, tbh.... >_>;
Sleeping, for that matter, is something Tommy considers to be a bit of a personal talent. He can sleep anywhere; in lumpy hotel beds, on the couch, standing up in a corridor, in the uncomfortable meeting chairs when he probably shouldn't be sleeping at all, even bent double in the cramped little tour bus bunks they've been stuffed into for the past eight weeks.
But just because he can sleep anywhere, doesn't mean he isn't a creature of comfort at heart.
Burrowing down into the soft mattress, Tommy sighs happily and pulls the covers up to his chin. Bunks can't compare to Adam's room at the back of the bus, with its own bathroom, and a double mattress swathed in Egyptian cotton sheets.
"Comfortable?" A voice says in his ear, and Tommy leans more into the phone cradled against his shoulder.
"Mmm," he mumbles around the blankets, and Liz's laugh slides through the earpiece.
"He's going to get sick of you hogging the covers and drooling over pillows that probably cost more than you earn in a year one day and throw you out on your ass."
"Nah-" Tommy starts, but it turns into a full-body yawn half way through and by the time it's over he's already drifting in and out of consciousness.
The door to the bathroom clicks and he cracks an eye open, realising belatedly that he must have closed them. Adam smiles down at him, all soft edges and warmth in his pyjamas, hair damp and face clean, and Tommy feels his own stupid, traitorous mouth matching it.
"Liz?" He mouths, and Tommy nods, hair catching on the pillow and nesting around his head. Liz is still talking, chattering quietly about whatever springs to mind, and he lets her voice lull him further, the gentle cadence of it rising up and down and gradually pulling him under.
Distantly, he feels fingers against his face, the phone being taken from him so there's nothing but soft pillow beneath his cheek, and Adam's voice in the back of his head, I think he's asleep and laughing and goodnight. Then the bed is dipping, the heat entirely too far away, but Tommy can't find the strength in him to move nearer. He manages a half-hearted grabby hand that aborts its mission half way, followed by a grumble, and the laughing warmth shifts towards him so that he can curl one arm around it and snuggle closer. Adam's hair tickles his nose but it smells of water and apples and cinnamon and if he had the energy he'd eat it.
"Goodnight, sleepy head." Tommy feels Adam's voice through his back more than he hears it, and the most he can get out in reply is a nuzzle and a headbutt, like a cat begging to be petted. Of course, Adam obliges him, shifting over onto his back and curling an arm around Tommy so that he can stroke long fingers through his fringe, brushing it back off his face and carrying on down the back of his neck. Over and over he does it, and Tommy can feel his centre of focus shrinking down and down and down until there's nothing but the gentle sweep of Adam's fingers, sleep tugging and pulling and begging him to fall that final inch. Adam presses his lips to Tommy's forehead, and he can't resist any longer, feels sleep wash over him like an ocean, engulfing him completely from head to toe.
Adam's breath hitches, his breath coming in a sad, broken sigh, and Tommy thinks he must be dreaming.
Aaaand it's![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
yararanger's turn :3
Sleeping, for that matter, is something Tommy considers to be a bit of a personal talent. He can sleep anywhere; in lumpy hotel beds, on the couch, standing up in a corridor, in the uncomfortable meeting chairs when he probably shouldn't be sleeping at all, even bent double in the cramped little tour bus bunks they've been stuffed into for the past eight weeks.
But just because he can sleep anywhere, doesn't mean he isn't a creature of comfort at heart.
Burrowing down into the soft mattress, Tommy sighs happily and pulls the covers up to his chin. Bunks can't compare to Adam's room at the back of the bus, with its own bathroom, and a double mattress swathed in Egyptian cotton sheets.
"Comfortable?" A voice says in his ear, and Tommy leans more into the phone cradled against his shoulder.
"Mmm," he mumbles around the blankets, and Liz's laugh slides through the earpiece.
"He's going to get sick of you hogging the covers and drooling over pillows that probably cost more than you earn in a year one day and throw you out on your ass."
"Nah-" Tommy starts, but it turns into a full-body yawn half way through and by the time it's over he's already drifting in and out of consciousness.
The door to the bathroom clicks and he cracks an eye open, realising belatedly that he must have closed them. Adam smiles down at him, all soft edges and warmth in his pyjamas, hair damp and face clean, and Tommy feels his own stupid, traitorous mouth matching it.
"Liz?" He mouths, and Tommy nods, hair catching on the pillow and nesting around his head. Liz is still talking, chattering quietly about whatever springs to mind, and he lets her voice lull him further, the gentle cadence of it rising up and down and gradually pulling him under.
Distantly, he feels fingers against his face, the phone being taken from him so there's nothing but soft pillow beneath his cheek, and Adam's voice in the back of his head, I think he's asleep and laughing and goodnight. Then the bed is dipping, the heat entirely too far away, but Tommy can't find the strength in him to move nearer. He manages a half-hearted grabby hand that aborts its mission half way, followed by a grumble, and the laughing warmth shifts towards him so that he can curl one arm around it and snuggle closer. Adam's hair tickles his nose but it smells of water and apples and cinnamon and if he had the energy he'd eat it.
"Goodnight, sleepy head." Tommy feels Adam's voice through his back more than he hears it, and the most he can get out in reply is a nuzzle and a headbutt, like a cat begging to be petted. Of course, Adam obliges him, shifting over onto his back and curling an arm around Tommy so that he can stroke long fingers through his fringe, brushing it back off his face and carrying on down the back of his neck. Over and over he does it, and Tommy can feel his centre of focus shrinking down and down and down until there's nothing but the gentle sweep of Adam's fingers, sleep tugging and pulling and begging him to fall that final inch. Adam presses his lips to Tommy's forehead, and he can't resist any longer, feels sleep wash over him like an ocean, engulfing him completely from head to toe.
Adam's breath hitches, his breath coming in a sad, broken sigh, and Tommy thinks he must be dreaming.
Aaaand it's
yararanger's turn :3