Title: Under Pressure
Author: Leela (leela_cat)
Pairing/Characters: Adam/Tommy
Rating: PG
Word Count: 17x100
Content/Warning(s): AU
Author's notes: Written for glam_100, prompt #065: close chave. Many thanks to aislinntlc for the preread.

This continues from last week's drabble-set, Fridays on the Corner.


Setting up doesn't take long. The techs are still back at the old rehearsal space, dealing with the equipment there, but Adam's band members are clearly old hands at doing for themselves. Ashley brought a bass and a single amp, Brian gets one keyboard, and apologies for not bringing the rest of his set-up, and Isaac has his weird box drum thing.

"So you know Isaac?" Ashley asks.

The question's pretty casual, but Tommy nearly drops her amp on his foot as he's putting it down. "Yeah," he says, hand shaking as he pushes his hair out of his face.

.o0O0o.

"Cool. He's a sweet guy. If he knows you, well... we're more than just a band," Ashley says, "and Isaac's recommendation goes a long way."

Tommy's caught between wanting to smile back and not having a fucking clue what to say to her. Because Isaac doesn't know him, not really, and Tommy wants to keep on dodging that fucking minefield for as long as he can.

Then Ashley reaches out and lays a hand on his arm, and her grin turns impish. "Stop worrying so much."

"Yeah, okay," Tommy says, and takes a step back. "Gonna get my guitar sorted."

.o0O0o.

Walking away from her feels like a cowardly move, but Tommy doesn't want to think about his time on the streets. He's way the fuck over it already.

But hooking up his guitar only takes a few minutes, and testing the strings just proves that it's ready to go. Everyone else is busy. Ashley's tuning her bass. Brian and Isaac are whispering over the keyboard. Adam's talking with Ken.

Feeling out of place, Tommy leans against the wall. He places his right foot flat against the wall, rests his guitar on his thigh, and starts picking at his nail polish.

.o0O0o.

Most of the polish is gone from Tommy's right thumbnail, and he's chewing on the hangnail that’s been annoying the fuck out of him, when Brian hits a note on his keyboard and Adam takes up a position in front of the mic stand.

Tommy pushes away from the wall. His heart speeds up as he twitches his guitar into place and goes to stand in the empty space between Adam and Brian. He knows fucking shit about most of Adam's songs, and this isn't a casual thing like before. This is fucking it.

He can totally fuck this up.

.o0O0o.

"If I Had You," Brian says, cutting across the frantic tumble of Tommy's thoughts.

There's a pause, and Tommy tries and fails to remember the first notes of that song, even though he's just played it. Then Brian plays a note, and then another, and Tommy's fingers are moving over the strings.

They slide from that to Kickin' In with only a brief break, and Tommy relaxes enough to start moving around. He bounces a little, bangs his head, and smiles at Ashley when she grins at him.

He even leans up against Adam when he comes close to Tommy.

.o0O0o.

And Adam leans into him. For a moment, they're holding each other up, Tommy's shoulders against Adam's back. Then the moment's over and they're moving apart again.

They get to the chorus and Brian calls out, "Bounce, bounce, bounce." By the third repetition, Tommy's bouncing on his creepers and enjoying the hell out of playing what he'd thought was a run-of-the-mill pop song.

When the last note fades away, Adam asks Tommy, "Ready for the crazy train?"

"Crazy train?" Faced with the amused challenge in Adam's eyes, the only thing Tommy can think to say is, "Why the hell not?"

.o0O0o.

Tommy listens to the first few notes. Cuckoo isn't a song he knows, but he did listen to it a few times last night when he was checking out Adam's music. He liked it. Mostly. It just felt unfinished, like something was missing. Not that Tommy could put a finger on what that something was.

With just his own memory to go with, Tommy just starts playing along with what the others are doing. He tosses some crazy riffs into the mix, trying his best without a pedal.

Then Adam turns to him, holds up a hand, and says, "Stop."

.o0O0o.

The music crashes to a sudden halt, the last notes echoing around the room. No one argues. They just turn to Adam and wait for him to explain.

"Do that again," Adam says to Tommy.

"This?" Tommy repeats the last riff he played.

Adam frowns and shakes his head. "It's not quite right."

"If I had pedals..." Tommy trails off and glances at his amp. He twists the knob for one of the effects and plays again. "Better?"

"Maybe. Still not right."

There's a lot of back and forth after that. Discussions between everyone about what could make it better.

.o0O0o.

Tommy plays and replays the riff, adding notes, stretching them out and speeding them up. Brian comes out from behind the keys and starts playing with the effects on Tommy's amp. Ashley adds in a bass line, helping Tommy stay on track.

And still Adam's shaking his head, saying it doesn't quite fit.

The whole thing should be frustrating as fuck, but instead it gets Tommy thinking, wanting to find the sound that works.

Finally, though, it's Brian who calls a halt. "We need to figure this out another day," he says. "Tommy's right. This can't be solved without pedals."

.o0O0o.

Adam grumbles, but concedes to Brian's request.

"So Tommy," Ashley says into the silence, "which song did you pick to play for your audition that isn't Adam's?"

"Scary Monsters." Tommy plucks the first couple of notes.

"I love Bowie," Adam says.

"Rock, then."

Tommy jerks around and stares at Brian. There's something about the flatness in Brian's voice that worries him. Not disapproval or disappointment, but not really good either.

"Let's hear you play it," Adam says.

As if that's a signal, Ashley pulls off her bass, leans it carefully against the amp, and goes to sit next to Isaac.

.o0O0o.

Brian joins Isaac and Ashley. Adam stands behind them with his hands in his pockets, Ken next to him. They're an audience now, or maybe a panel of judges, not just the musicians Tommy's been jamming with.

"No pressure, dude," he mutters as he adjusts his guitar and spends a couple of minutes getting the strings tuned properly and trying to get his nerves back under control.

Taking a deep breath, Tommy runs a hand over his hair and smoothes his bangs by the side of his face. Then he strokes his pick over the strings and starts to play.

.o0O0o.

By the second verse, Tommy's singing along. Very quietly, because he can't stay on key for shit. During the third, he draws a wail out of his guitar, pulling it higher and higher until he drops back down into the music, bouncing and headbanging. He ends with a spin, raising his guitar high as he picks out a rapid run of notes.

Then he stops and pushes his hair back off his face, breathing heavily. The fact that he hasn't eaten anything all day is making itself known, but he ignores his empty stomach. It's totally not important right now.

.o0O0o.

Isaac and Ashley are smiling, but it's Adam and Brian who matter. Raising his chin, refusing to hide behind his hair, Tommy waits.

Brian's expression is unreadable, his voice flat, when he says, "You're a metal head."

In response, Tommy plays a lick from Crossroad Blues then the first few chords of Hurt, the Johnny Cash version. "Life's too short for only one kind of music, man."

Brian nods and turns to Adam.

Everything seems to tunnel down to the two of them. Tommy's clutching at his guitar, caught up in Adam's eyes, in the blue grey green of them.

.o0O0o.

After what seems like forever, Adam asks, "So, what are you? A mod or a rocker?"

Without thinking, Tommy replies, "Six of one, half a dozen of the other, really."

Adam's smile is bright and light. Tommy can't help smiling back. His stomach flips over, and a strange giddy feeling rises inside him.

"Velvet Goldmine is the shit," he says, because he wants Adam to know that he's not faking it.

"Totally," Adam says. "So, you think you could start playing next week?"

"Yeah." The swirling happiness grows inside Tommy, and he tightens his grip on his guitar. "Fuck, yeah."

.o0O0o.

But then Ken's phone beeps, and he thumbs it on. Adam peers over Ken's shoulder and stares at whatever's on the screen.

"Background check," Ken says, and Tommy's gut tightens around a sharp spike of pain. He should've fucking known; nothing in his life is ever this simple.

"Tommy?"

He can't look up, can't deal with the disapproval that he's sure is in Adam's eyes. Staring at his fingers, at the strings pulled taut over the frets, he says, "They dismissed the charges, okay? I didn't fucking sell my ass."

Not that he wouldn't have, if Leo hadn't found him.

.o0O0o.

"What are you talking about?" The confusion in Adam's voice seems genuine, and Tommy's head jerks up.

"Nothing," he says. "Just fucking forget I said anything."

Then Adam's swearing, and the swirling is surrounding Tommy, spinning him around like a fucking tornado, and some asshole is turning off the lights.

Tommy blinks, looks up into Adam's eyes. He's sprawled across Adam's lap and cradled in Adam's arms. The others are crowded around them. "What the fuck?"

"You fainted." Adam brushes Tommy's hair out of his eyes.

"I don't... why would I do that?"

Before anyone can answer, Tommy's stomach growls.

.o0O0o.

"I don't suppose you remembered to eat anything today." Isaac shakes his head. "And I'm betting that you've been playing for hours."

A flush heats Adam's cheeks. "He was good, okay? And none of us thought about it."

"Dinner," Ashley says. "We should go out and celebrate our new guitarist."

They all start talking after that, with a bunch of restaurants that Tommy doesn't know tossed out as suggestions.

"I'm sorry," Adam offers.

"Not your fault I didn't eat."

"Sushi? Japanese food?"

Before Tommy can answer, his stomach growls again.

"Katsu-ya," Adam announces, and just like that, the discussion's over.

Promises in Purple Ink continues in Dinner is Served.


.