Title: The Lyre
Author: Leela (leela_cat)
Pairing/Characters: Adam Lambert/Tommy Joe Ratliff
Rating: PG
Word Count: 13x100
Content/Warning(s): Vampire AU
Author's notes: Written for glam_100, prompt #082: always. Many thanks to @aislinntlc for the preread and @MyPrivateAffair for the encouragement (even if she laughs at me way too much).


Tommy's been a vampire for twelve years when he steals his first instrument from a woman who accuses him, without basis, of theft.

Turning her lie into truth seems like an appropriate response. So Tommy breaks into her home that same night. He finds her passed out on the bed between her husband and the Roman ambassador.

His plan to steal her jewelry vanishes when he spots the lyre on its pedestal. The lyre has seven strings, its plectrum tethered by a gold ribbon, and he craves it. Ghosting past the humans, he disappears into the night with his future.

^V^

His second's a tanbur but, unlike the lyre, he abandons it when he moves on to his next life. Then comes a harp, a lute, a citole, every stringed instrument he can play without a bow, that lets him touch the strings, feel their vibrations through his fingers and his body in just the right way.

He doesn't keep another instrument until the gittern another bard hands him, along with a challenge to play it, in thirteenth century London.

The lyre keeps his heart though, because it brought him music. It also exposes his secret when he least expects it.

^V^

It happens when Tommy's calendar's wide-open. Adam's got nothing planned for weeks, and his friends back off with a wave of his hand and a mutter of, "Tommy time."

His studio is kept cool by air-conditioning, and private by layers of security that eat away at his not-enormous savings.

The lyre, though, is warm under his hands, worn enough in all the right places that Tommy's sure no one else can ever play it.

His first strum across the strings is sweet and joyous. Soon, he's so lost in the music that he doesn't hear the door open.

Or close.

^V^

He doesn't realize he's not alone until he blocks the strings to silence them, and hears an indrawn breath, an all-too-human heartbeat. His fangs drop before he thinks about controlling himself.

Adam's whispered, "Oh my god," is as clear as bells to Tommy.

Pressing his lips together, fangs digging into his mouth, Tommy manages to hiss instead of snarl. He doesn't like surprises.

"That's... that's... real."

"Yep."

"Seriously? Oh wow, I mean. Seriously, seriously old and real?"

Despite the insanity of this, Tommy's amused that Adam fixates on the lyre not the fangs. "Totally, dude. Seriously fucking old and real."

^V^

Adam moves closer, carefully and slowly, and reaches out toward Tommy, toward his lyre. There's awe in his voice when he asks, "Can I touch it?"

"Umm."

Tommy's fingers clench on the strings, sending an odd note ringing through the room, not because he doesn't trust Adam with his baby, but because he does and that's more than a little freaky.

"It's okay if— I mean, I'd totally understand if you—"

"Go ahead," Tommy says, more to stop Adam from babbling than anything else. "You can touch her."

Sinking to his knees, Adam runs his hand over the ancient inlay.

^V^

"It's not all original," Tommy finally says into the silence as Adam caresses the soundboard. "Had to replace some parts over the years, and modern strings are bitching compared to the old ones."

"How?"

Not sure what Adam's asking, Tommy shrugs. "Took it from the wicked witch of Mesopotamia. She annoyed the fuck out of me one night."

Adam giggles, high-pitched enough that he pulls a hand away from the lyre to clap it over his mouth.

"It's pretty plain as lyres went back in those days, but that's why I wanted it." Tommy strums the lyre. "Sweet sound too."

^V^

As Adam settles cross-legged on the floor, one finger still touching the soundboard, as if to feel the vibrations, the heel of his hand resting against Tommy's leg, Tommy begins to play.

It's an ancient song, one no longer heard in the world. A winding, plaintive ode to a lover long lost that Tommy wrote centuries ago for a man with dark hair, golden eyes, and a voice that twined itself around Tommy's heart. A man so much like Adam that it hurts sometimes.

A man so much like Adam that it feels right to play the song for him.

^V^

Tommy's so lost in the music that he almost misses the moment when Adam starts singing along. Wordless, Adam's voice rises and falls, weaving in and out of the notes, in and out of Tommy's soul, as if he was born knowing it.

When that song ends, craving more and more of that feeling, Tommy moves into another song and then another; Adam follows along without hesitation. They finish together, the music sliding up and up and up, until Adam ends the note and Tommy blocks his strings.

Adam's flushed, his eyes are bright, and Tommy wants to kiss him.

^V^

The urge draws a breathed "oh" out of Tommy. Unable to looks away from Adam's mouth, the tiny freckles he once tasted every night, he wets his lips with his tongue.

"Tell me no," Adam says, rising to his knees. "Or even better, tell me yes."

His palm is soft against Tommy's jaw. So warm that Tommy turns into it, presses a kiss against the skin, feels the music that thrums through Adam's soul. He could live on that, he knows.

"Tell me."

Tommy raises his eyes, looks into Adam's. He wants this so badly, but not without Adam understanding.

^V^

"You need to know—" is all he can get out before Adam says, "I do."

"No... fuck... really. Would you just shut the fuck up and listen? You've gotta know." Tommy pulls away from Adam's hand, fighting the yearning to stay close to that delicious heat. "I'm not human."

"Duh."

"Oh fuck you, bitch. I'm having an existential fucking crisis here."

Adam starts laughing, and Tommy just wants to hit him because this shit is totally serious. Except he's still holding onto the lyre, and Adam's laughter feels warm against his hand, and—

He's so damn fucked it isn't funny.

^V^

It's too damn much, that's all Tommy knows. He shakes off Adam's hold and races across the room, putting as much distance between them as possible in the small studio.

"Oh my fucking god." Adam sounds reverent. "You... you really are, aren't you? I mean I was sure, but it's not like I've ever met a vampire before."

Tommy snorts with laughter and focuses on settling the straps over the lyre. "That you know of."

"Okay, yeah, I'll give you that, but this is so awesome."

When the lyre's stored in its protective case, Tommy turns and watches Adam approach.

^V^

Adam's not hesitant. His heartbeat is slightly faster, but he smells more of arousal than fear. In fact, he's all but fucking prowling, as if Tommy were the prey not the predator.

When Adam's close enough, Tommy puts out a hand, lays it flat against Adam's chest to stop him, and asks, "How did you find me?"

"Right neighborhood, right time?"

"What?"

Laying his hand over Tommy's, Adam puts on his most disarming smile, the one that should but never does scare the paps. "Scarlett's got a thing going a couple of studios down and asked me to watch Riff."

^V^

"Shit." Tommy shakes his head. "This town really isn't that fucking small."

"Yes," Adam says, taking a step forward, "it is."

Tommy could stop him. He's strong enough, but he's just not that stupid. He wants Adam. Wants his heat and his music. Wants everything of him he can have for as long as he can have it. So he lets his arm bend, lets Adam get close enough to crowd him against the cabinet that holds his instruments.

"How long?" Tommy asks, although he's not sure what he's really asking.

"Always," Adam says. "Forever."

And then he kisses Tommy.


.