Oct. 2nd, 2011 09:45 pm
[personal profile] something_rare
Title: Awaiting
Pairing: Adam/?
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,177
Summary: Airports are a funny sort of place.


Airports are a funny sort of place.

Either you love them or you hate them.

The atmosphere in an airport is indescribable, and it changes depending on what time you happen to be there.

During the early morning hours, they are fresh and lively - not yet caught up in the whirl-wind of delays and cancellations. Rested crews arrive ready to work - not yet annoyed by the attitudes of displeased passengers. The restaurants are opening and the shops are unlocking their doors. Businessmen board their early commuter flights while vacation-minded families daydream about their awaiting destination.

The sun is shining. The coffee is brewing. A new day is beginning.

However, as noontime approaches, the atmosphere of the terminals becomes somewhat dull. It becomes crowded, the gates are overflowing, and chaos is everywhere. People are late, security is clogged, and flights are pushed back or simply terminated. Flyers frantically exit from one plane - make a phone call or two, or maybe use bathrooms - before dashing for their next flight. Loved ones are farewelled, friends are separated, and loners simply disappear down the corridor, dragging their bag behind. Relatives reunite, lovers embrace, and tear-wrenching reunions occur.

The world is a blur. The pace is frenzied. The day goes on.

But as the sun set, darkness covers the world; time slows her hands.

This night was not unlike any other night in any other airport. The night shift takes over - relieving the exhausted personnel. Crowds thin, the number of flights diminishes, the pace slows. Only a few red-eye travelers are rushing about and making a mad dash to get home in time for probably an emergency. The restaurants are locking up. Cleaning crews go about their jobs: vacuuming the carpets and washing the windows.

He had been in lots of airports: big, small, international, regional. And he had been in them at every time imaginable: predawn, mid-morning, rush hour, late night. However, no matter where he found himself or what time it happened to be, he was always there for the same reason…

12:36 A.M.

The plane was scheduled to have landed promptly at midnight.

He waited patiently, tapping his foot. There were only a handful of people seated around him, awaiting the arrival of the airplane.

He released a small sigh and crossed his arms across his chest. He wondered whom these other people were waiting for. A son? A parent? A friend? A lover?

He had often overheard people say that airports are the best place to "watch people." He had never given much thought to that particular sport and, frankly, had thought it quite silly. Who watches people for fun?

Well, he did, now.

Ever since he had met Adam, he found herself becoming an increasingly avid people-watcher. It stemmed from all of the long hours spent waiting for him. Waiting for him backstage; waiting for him in the airports; waiting for him in the limo; waiting for him to come home. He caught a bitter laugh escaping his mouth as he attempted to calculate just how many hours they had spent waiting for him. That would be impossible.

He stifled a yawn and removed his glasses to rub his eyes. He wondered how many other people would be willing to walk in his shoes, to wait in his shoes. They had been told repeatedly that having a love life in this business would be hard: trying, testing, exhausting.

No warning in the world could have prepared him for the reality of it, though. Months of nothing but phone calls, some hurried because of schedules, some cut short because of sleep. Weeks of anticipation leading up to a whirlwind weekend hotel affair only to end in rushed good-byes and promises of some other weekend in some other hotel. Hours of "their" time quietly taken away by legions of adoring fans that simply won't take no for an answer.

It hurt. All of it. Why couldn't he just have a normal relationship? Why couldn't he just live a normal life?

He heard Adam’s flight number being announced over the speakers of the airport. The plane had finally landed.

A small smile stretched his lips. The few people around him stood and made their way over to the gate opening. He stayed seated directly in front of the large observation window and watched as the plane slowed to a stop and a small ground crew scurried to set up the exiting staircase.

He watched as the load of passengers made their way down the staircase and onto the tarmac, and Adam was one of the last ones to exit.
It wasn't until both his feet were soundly on the ground that Adam’s eyes drifted up to the row of glowing windows. Adam’s eyes quickly spotted him amongst the row of empty seats. He stopped subconsciously, staring through the window at him sitting there: drowning in the big shirt, the hat and staring right back at him.

Adam’s smile mirrored his: soft, small, and content.

A crew member tapped Adam’s shoulder and encouraged him inside off the tarmac. He smiled, slightly embarrassed, and glanced back up at him before continuing through the terminal.

He rose from his seat and slowly walked towards the portal.

"There was a weird guy on our flight."

"Is that Adam Lambert?"

"I think some celebrity was on that plane."

"That must be Adam," a young girl tugged at her friend's sleeve.

He ignored the whispers and the looks. People talking about him, people pointing at him...he was numb to it all.

He walked steadily past every person - their eyes glued to him, his eyes glued to nothing but Adam. His tall figure emerged from the dark corridor like something rising from a dreamy mist. He smoothly strode over to Adam. Their eyes were locked and as they came together, it was like poetry in motion: no faltered step, no rushed move, simply an embracing of bodies that visually convened emotional fulfillment.

The waiting was over, for now. Tomorrow would bring more good-byes, more promises, and more pain. They would not complain - they never did. It was because of moments like these that they bore the unbearable, that they kept their pain silent. They knew this lifestyle hurt them both. They had an understanding, an agreement, and a mutual sympathy for one another. But why waste precious time verbalizing the negative instead of embracing the positive?

There were no grumbles about the midnight flight, no groans over the forty-five minute delay, and no frowns because of the looming departure mere hours in their future. He pulled back enough to look into Adam’s eyes before rising on his toes and placing a small kiss on his lips.


Adam glanced up at the waiting bodyguard and nodded. Looking down into his lover’s eyes, he kissed him again.

Adam’s protective arm drew him in for another embrace before their hands were joined - fingers interlaced - and they were on their way.

This made up for the waiting; this made it all worthwhile.

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