Coup de Foudre - Part 3

[eaivalefay]

Coup de Foudre - Part 3


Angela sighed as Harry stepped into her make-shift office. “I know, Harry, the threats aren’t lightening up. Jack’s keeping me apprised. But I really can’t afford to get a bodyguard for you. To perfectly frank, all the attention is tearing the PR department into an intense division of either firing you or using you as a promotional piece for Adam. I’m sure you realize a bodyguard will only draw more attention and things won’t die down any faster. I want to keep you around, so I’m trying to end this as quickly as possible. However if you feel unsafe, maybe we need to consider less appealing options.”

“Angie, I just walked through the door.” In fact, Harry barely had the door closed by the time she finished her first sentence. “Care to find out why I’m here before you continue?”

Angie looked taken aback then smiled slightly. “Of course, I’m sorry, Harry. Go ahead.” She dropped her pen on top of the pile of paperwork she was working through and brushed her fingers through her curly brown hair.

Harry nodded, sat, took a deep breath and steeled himself. “This will be brief, unless you want any clarification. I’m going to talk to Jack and Adam about this later tonight, but I wanted to talk to you first.”

At Angie’s nod, Harry went on. “If this progresses any further—and by ‘this’ I mean any form of security or plan that involves some absurd protective measure for my benefit—I will quit faster than you can say ‘excessive.’” He stared at her with his deadly serious expression, one he’d perfected over the years of having people do stupid things in some effort to aid him.

Angie stared back, a completely stunned expression on her face. Slowly it leveled out into a calm blankness. “Okay, Harry. I’m in perfect agreement, as you may have surmised.”

“Yeah, I worked that one out,” he smiled slightly. “If you don’t have any questions..? I want to finish my work before the Idols get back from their latest set of interviews.”

“Only one. What are your reasons for not wanting a little help?” She held up a hand as Harry made a surprised, argumentative noise. “No, I am in agreement with you. It’s only that stalkers usually upset and disturb people. You have been walking around like there isn’t a problem under the sun, and now you’re threatening to quit if we try to hire help. I expected you to threaten quitting if we didn’t hire someone; and to be quite frank, Harry, I would have let you.” She shrugged and offered an apologetic half-smile.

“The delicacies of running a tour. I get that, Angie. To be frank myself, I’ve considered quitting just to get the problem out of everyone’s hair. It would be the simplest.” Harry glanced out the window, running a hand through his hair distractedly, accidentally bumping his glasses, missing his contact lenses again. “But I like it here, and I don’t want to leave yet. It’s been awhile since I felt fitted into something, a part of the community.”

Angie hummed in agreement. He knew she understood perfectly something he was still discovering; tours were large families. You got pulled in, accepted, and made a part of the group for the rest of eternity, and that was that.

“As for stalking… It’s hard to explain. I’ve been through a few things. A handful of jealous girls don’t bother me. Why should they? They’re kids with crushes. If that’s it, Angie?”

Angela nodded and Harry left. Now to tackle Adam and Jack. After he picked up the dinner for the crew.

----------

Jacked eyed him with speculative suspicion. Adam simply sat waiting patiently. Harry wondered if Adam was used to his secretive, reluctant mannerisms.

He pushed the thought from his mind and stared back at them from across the tiny space between the beds. They were currently in a hotel in Hartford, where they were playing one venue then taking a day off. It was Kris’ and Adam’s room, but Kris was sleeping on the floor above with his wife, who’d visited to see her husband and New York a few days ago and decided to stay on awhile longer. Harry was thankful for the small amount of privacy. He insisted Adam and Jack sit on one bed while he settled himself cross-legged on the other, facing them.

“I know it’s late, but this is a conversation we need to have. Neither of you are going to like this.” Might as well warn them now. “But try not to interrupt, because this could be lengthy and you’re going to hear it all no matter how long or short it takes.” The ‘I don’t care if I have to keep you up all night’ was silent, but perfectly understood.

“It’s two in the morning, baby,” Adam said, a tired grin tugging at his mouth. “Spill it now and spill it quick, because even I’m exhausted.” Jack hit him up the back of his head. Adam gave him the finger.

“I want you both to stop clucking over me like paranoid mother hens,” Harry said flatly when their attention returned to him. “I don’t want or need a bodyguard, security, or constant supervision. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, not that there is anything I need to protect myself from. It’s a bunch of foolish girls who talk trash and then turn around and whinge about breaking a nail.” He stared at each of them in turn.

A stubborn look pasted itself across Jack’s face. The look that said quite simply, ‘I may not be interrupting, but I disagree, and since I have the experience, you are wrong and I will take you down later.’

Adam sat up straight, the sleepiness vanishing from his face. He clearly wanted to argue, but he kept his mouth shut.

“I’m deadly serious, both of you,” Harry said sternly. He looked between them once more. “If you persist in this, I will quit.”

“Excuse me?” Adam blurted out.

Harry stared at him. “I mean it, Adam. I. Will. Quit. I’ve already talked to Angie about this. She’s on my side, just so you both know. If you keep going on about this, I’ll quit, which is all well and fine, because if everyone keeps yammering about a roadie needing a bodyguard Angie will up and fire me anyway. As she bloody well should. I’m a grown man and perfectly capable of looking after myself. Got it?”

There was a long, drawn out silence.

Adam finally said, “Can we speak now? Or are you building up a tense, dramatic moment to continue?” Jack snorted.

Harry shrugged, ignoring the thick sarcasm, “Go ahead.”

“That’s fucking insane and I’m not going to let your ass get stalked or raped or murdered or whatever because you’re an arrogant idiot who won’t accept a little help.” Adam crossed his arms over his chest. “Got it?”

Jack didn’t say anything, simply settled back on the bed a little more. He was watching Harry for a reaction.

Harry’s eyes narrowed dangerously at Adam. “I told you, I can take care of myself.”

“You never needed help with anything in your life, ever?” Adam scoffed.

“I certainly never needed a fucking bodyguard to do the same thing I am capable of doing; mainly, protecting myself. Hell, why am I on security half the time if you think I’m some idiot unable to do anything useful in a dangerous situation?”

“That’s not what we’re saying,” Jack jumped in. “We’re concerned, Harry. One man cannot be alert all the time. No matter whether the threats are serious or not, we need to treat them as such to ensure your safety.”

“Thank-you!” Adam snapped out, arm waving gratefully in Jack’s direction. “Exactly what he said.”

Sometimes Harry hated Jack’s cool logic. “Look, here’s how it’s going to go,” Harry said, determined. “No more bodyguard requests. No more insisting I accompany every single event in some effort to watch out for me. You want to stop the problem, stop spending time with me.” He stared straight at Adam, ignoring Jack completely and missing the slight wince. “I know we’re mates, and I know you don’t want the world to get in the way of that, but it is getting in the way, and if you think you have to ‘keep me safe,’ the easiest way to do that is pretend we have no interest in each other whatsoever.”

The icy expression that settled on Adam’s face could have frozen the sun. “No.”

“Alright, that’s fine,” Harry said. He hadn’t really expected that suggestion to come to anything, though the cold look in Adam’s eyes unnerved him a bit. “But no more of this paranoid shit about my welfare. It can’t go on that way. I will quit, and as much as the idea annoys you, neither of you can stop me from doing it.”

“Harry—”

“And I’ve been stalked before,” Harry cut Adam off. It seemed the quickest wait to finish up the argument. That effectively ended Adam’s reproach. Jack cleared his throat pointedly.

Harry shrugged slightly, looking away from them, because this was something he hated talking about, no matter how much he pretended it didn’t bother him. He picked at the comforter absently. “I was, when I was growing up, when I was a kid. It’s complicated, really complicated, and I’m not going into it all. This man, a truly psychotic bastard, was obsessed with me. It was bad for a long time, but I learned to deal with it all. I also learned how to look after myself.”

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin when the bed dipped. Adam shifted up next to him, his thigh pressing into Harry’s and fingers sliding down Harry’s arm to tangle with the ones picking at the blanket. “Dammit, Harry, do you ever think talking about it might be a good idea?” His voice conveyed a mixture of empathy and exasperation.

Harry squeezed Adam’s hand slightly, looking up at him. “Talking about it is not something I’ve ever been encouraged to do. So you get why star-struck girls don’t bother me? They just don’t and I really need you to ease up on this for awhile.”

Adam still looked like he wanted to argue. Jack cleared his throat again.

“We get the point, and we will lay off for now, unless things get worse.” He gave Adam a look that said there wouldn’t be an argument about this. Harry smiled slightly, relieved and amused and grateful all rolled into one. “But we’re going to talk about this more. Later, at a decent hour. For now, you’re both getting your asses in bed.”

“Oh, right. The show is tomorrow. And it’s—fuck, three already?” Harry stood. Adam tugged him right back down.

“And neither of us will stop looking out for you, no matter how much you fight it. You’re staying here tonight,” Adam said.

Harry scowled, “We just went over this.”

“No one’s going to know,” Jack pointed out. “And I agree. You’re sleeping on the bus, correct? You’re not hauling yourself through the parking lot at this hour.”

At Harry’s expression Jack shrugged, “You have to give us something, kiddo.”

Harry ignored the ‘kiddo’ comment. “And where do you plan to sleep then? I already know you were going to use the extra bed in here since Kris is out.”

“I think we’re small enough to fit on one bed, Harry,” Adam said. The cheerful bounce Harry was sure Adam would become famous for returned to his voice. “You can borrow my pajamas.”

“You sleep naked,” Harry said. He did not want to think about how he knew that. It was one of those embarrassing memories he preferred to forget.

Adam was smirking. “So you know my pjs are clean?”

Jack rolled his eyes, “God help me.” He vanished into the bathroom.

Harry let go of Adam’s hand, pulling up from the bed and out of Adam’s grip. “As surprising as I know you’ll find it, I’m not eager to sleep with you, love.” In fact, I’m still pretty pissed at you, he added silently. Only the bodyguard-death threats problem needed to be taken care of. He still didn’t know how to broach the spying problem anyway. Avoiding the topic altogether seemed like the best approach.

“You’ll succumb to my irresistible allure eventually,” Adam said lazily. The ‘again’ was tactfully not added on. “So you don’t mind if I sleep nude?”

“Nope,” Harry said before he really thought about it. He turned to find Adam grinning triumphantly at him. That wicked smirk should be illegal. “That is not what I meant.” He stared down at Adam. “It isn’t. I’m just used to men being men. I am one, after all, and dormed up with a bunch for years.”

“You’ve platonically slept with naked guys?” Adam shook his head. “Well, shit. You might be harder to crack than I thought.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “You’re absurd, Adam. It’s no wonder the paparazzi is going mad on us, reading too much into everything.”

Adam stared at him, “Did you seriously just say that?”

Harry gave him a confused look, “What?”

“Fucking hell. How can you be so...” Adam buried his face in his hands. “Just get in bed, sexy.”

Harry shot him an annoyed, completely confused expression. “Fine.” After Adam pointed out the pajamas—just a pair of lounge pants—he changed quickly, turning to find Adam watching him with wide, interested eyes. He climbed into bed, yanking at the pant legs to keep from tripping on them. Adam was what felt like three feet taller than he was. He rolled himself comfortably in a blanket, and ignored Adam, muttering softly, “Bloody berk.”

Adam nudged him, “So fucking heard that.”

“Good.” He buried his face in his pillow and only peripherally heard Jack exit the bathroom and Adam go in. Five minutes later Adam came out and climbed into bed, turning the light off as he went. An arm slid comfortably around his side, and a bare chest pressed into his back. He wasn’t kidding about sleeping naked. Harry was surprised Adam didn’t twine around him any more than that. The man was a cat, bent on getting attention and seeking out heat sources. He grinned into the pillow at the image.

It was starting to drive him insane, always torn between falling in love with the idiot and being constantly frustrated by him. He almost wished Hermione was there, if only to drive some sanity back into his life. If there had ever been any in the first place. Hermione always brought things back down to earth.

Harry fell asleep cocooned in warmth and buried in memories. He only peripherally heard Adam whisper into his hair,

“We’re not just friends, Harry.”

----------

“Hello.” A voice spoke from behind Harry as he shoved another bag into the storage under the bus.

Harry pivoted on the balls of his feet, still crouching low. He stared up at the short, wiry man, thankful he’d remembered to grab his sunglasses off the bus today. The sun was blinding and the bloke was framed by the bright light. He eyed the guest pass hanging around his neck and then the wide, sincere brown eyes. “Can I help you..?”

“Brad,” he offered a hand. Harry stared at it. “Brad Bell?” He hesitated at as Harry continued to stare blankly. “Cheeks, social media artist extraordinaire?”

Realization finally dawned. “Oh! Adam’s ex.” Harry stood and rubbed his hands against his jeans before accepting the still extended hand. “Harry Grey. I, uh, don’t know where Adam is right now. He should be in the amphitheatre, actually. If you want, Mark should be able—”

“I came out to chat with you,” Cheeks, or Brad, said brightly. “Harry Grey, the guy who’s been getting nailed in the tabloids lately. Trust me, I know how you feel. About the tabloids. …and getting nailed, come to think of it.”

Oh, Merlin help him. Harry wanted to turn around and go straight back to work, but he’d learned early on that ignoring Adam or his friends didn’t tend to work. He straightened his grey shirt reflexively, glad again for his sunglasses so he could look Brad over surreptitiously. “Alright. But I don’t think you do.”

“They nailed me harder than you,” Brad said with a sweet smile curling into a smirk at the corners. He popped down next to Harry, settling into a meditation position. “The pictures, the gossip. Not that I mind. Normally I’m all for getting nailed, in a different sense.”

“Oh, god.” Harry couldn’t stop from staring at him in horror. He was sure his alarm was visible, eyewear or no, because it just kept getting worse and a certain realization was sinking in. “You’re just like him.”

“Pardon?” Brad asked.

Harry determinedly turned back to shoving bags onto the bus. “You’re just like Adam.”

“I’ll try to not be too insulted by that,” Brad said.

“I thought you’d be pleased,” Harry shot him a sideways glance, genuinely surprised. Still more than a little disturbed. They really were alike. There was that same casual, playful glint in Brad’s eyes, and the same easy grace with turning meaning upside down.

Brad waved a hand dismissively. “Adam’s darling. I dated him for two years, that should say something. But really? Just like him? No.” He settled his hands on his knees, pressing thumb and forefinger together, a full-blown smirk edging along his mouth. “If anything, he’s just like me. I taught him how to sparkle, honey.”

“Sparkle,” Harry said flatly. He braced himself for something. He didn’t know what, but something was definitely going to happen. The tingle along his spine never lied, and right at this moment he was having a hell of a time not shivering from the force of it.

Brad studied Harry. “Sparkle. Be healthy, bright, positive, amazing. With that little extra glow about you.”

“Right.” Harry slowly went back to work a second time, picking up a large black duffle bag and pushing it in. “I suppose you’re here to rescue Adam then?”

“Rescue Adam?” Brad sounded confused once more. “Are you always this…”

“Get him back,” Harry clarified, ignoring the last bit. “You’re here to date Adam. He’s always talking about you.”

“…confusing.” Brad’s mystified expression turned into laughter. “Date? Adam? No! No, no, no. We’re not going down that road again. You’re as funny as Adam said you were. I should have known. He’s always been a good judge of character.” He leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, “He’s always been a good judge of a lot of things.”

Harry closed his eyes and prayed for patience, “You two are bloody twins. Either get a blood test or a marriage license, honestly.”

Brad gave him another quirky smile. “You don’t make chatting easy, do you?”

“Neither do you. And I’m working,” Harry tried, motioning vaguely in the direction Brad would find Adam. He barely remembered to push one of the last few bags into the compartment.

“Right, that’s the problem.” Brad’s eyebrow was raised, and his tone promised hell in a way that reminded Harry of Hermione. Now there was a terrifying thought, a hybrid of Hermione and Adam. “Now that you’re all finished here, I say we go get a drink.”

“I’m working—”

“Miss Angela Lemming has already let you off. I think Adam’s little Allicat was quite certain it was important.” Brad stood gracefully and offered a hand to Harry. “Not to mention my convincing speech on the wonders of tabloid support groups.”

Harry accepted the hand reluctantly. He didn’t particularly care to alienate one of Adam’s favorite people, favorite enough to mention the bloke every other day despite dating and breaking it off. He suspected telling Brad to bugger off might constitute as offensive. “No bars.” There had to be limits, right?

Brad barely pouted. “Then there’s a nice café I noticed down the street. They have a juice bar. I could really go for green tea. Or maybe a smoothie.”

It was a quick walk to the little shop. Brad walked a brisk pace and steered them out of the amphitheatre lot quickly. Harry kept an eye out for someone, anyone, he could catch to bring along with them. It felt a bit of a conspiracy when he couldn’t find a single person. And suddenly he was sitting across from Adam’s ex at an uncomfortable little table with straight-backed metal chairs. He fiddled with his espresso nervously.

“Here’s the down low, sugar.” Brad set his plate of biscotti between them, not so subtly pushing it toward Harry. “First of all, you need to eat more. I’m all for slim, but you’re pushing the envelope.”

“I—”

“I’m positive if we took your shirt off I could count ribs and single vertebrae,” Brad said. “Body fat is our friend.”

“I’m not unhealthy,” Harry snapped. He pushed the plate back toward Brad. “Just slight. I eat plenty and I’m not hungry.”

Brad arched an eyebrow. Harry wasn’t sure if it was speaking disapproval or disbelief, but whatever it was, he knew it was not a good thing. He felt like he was taking a test and failing. Badly. He tried to quell his nerves. Why should he fucking care if he impresses Adam’s ex or not?

“No, sugar, I’m slight. You’re bordering dead. But never mind that, here’s the second thing,” Brad said. The eyebrow had lowered to its normal position and he took a long drink off his smoothie. It was called the Evil Genius, and Harry wondered if that was an omen. The glass clinked down onto the table gently. “He’s not going to wait forever.”

The nerves deflated into pure confusion in one swift second. If that was supposed to be sage advice or even remotely comprehensible, it failed spectacularly. “Ah, who?” He was half tempted to look around. Harry had the feeling Brad got distracted easily and was probably talking about someone behind him.

“Adam. His patience isn’t endless, and bless him, he’s willing to accept almost anything, but really that won’t last forever,” Brad elaborated. The ‘and it shouldn’t, in my not-remotely-humble opinion’ sat hovering in the air. Brad was staring unblinkingly and unnervingly at him.

Harry’s brow drew down as his confusion deepened. He was definitely failing this test, probably because he had no bloody clue what it was about. “What is Adam waiting for?”

Brad’s mouth dropped open for two seconds. Then he blinked furiously. “Pardon?”

Harry sighed. “What is Adam waiting for?”

Brad frowned. He eyed Harry thoughtfully across the table, eyes narrowing. He bit his lip. “I’m not sure what you’re asking.”

Harry wanted to bang his head against the table. Or maybe Brad’s head. “Why should Adam be waiting for anything? What is it? I don’t see why you’re talking to me about this. And I don’t see what his patience has to do with me either.”

Brad blinked again. “Oh my god.”

“What?”

He shook his head. “Oh my god.” He leaned back. “Adam wasn’t kidding.”

Harry huffed, “What?”

“Adam,” Brad said, “won’t wait forever for you.”

“What?” Harry’s confused frown might as well have been pasted across his face for this entire conversation. That is, if it hadn’t been. “What the hell is he waiting for me for anyway?”

“To date!” Brad said.

“I don’t want to date!” Harry felt slightly horrified, and he was quite sure he looked it. He only belatedly remembered to add on, “Adam.” How many people were going to come in one this idea anyway?

Brad shook his head, “Oh, honey, of course you do.”

“No, I don’t!” Harry insisted.

“You have a funny way of showing it.” And Brad looked completely unconvinced.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry’s confusion was vanishing quickly into anger. Okay, he didn’t want to piss off Adam’s ex, or best friend, but this was insane. He did not appreciate this tosser’s uninformed opinions.

“Adam’s pretty much kept up a live timeline of events with me,” Brad shrugged. “You’re definitely interested, sweetie. To be quite frank, I’m tired of Adam bitching about it, so I thought I’d drop in to point out the obvious. I thought he’d been exaggerating, but oh my god.”

“I wish you’d stop saying that,” Harry grumbled. He’d give quite a lot to know exactly what Adam had been saying to Cheeks about him.

“Is it the tabloids?” Brad asked. He picked up a broken piece of biscotti, took a bite, his eyes focused on Harry the entire time. “Adam’s mentioned that a few times, that it bothers you.”

His mouth twisted in a frown. “Yeah, I hate the tabloids. Who doesn’t again?”

Brad shook his head, “I’ve lived in LA for, well, years. Capital of celebrity versus camera. Trust me, you’ve got to live your life whether the camera’s trained on you or not. You got to get over yourself, in other words.”

“My personal feelings about idiots with a camera and too much time on their hands is none of your bloody business, Brad,” Harry said flatly. He remembered the small cup of espresso in front of him, picked it up, and tossed it back, ignoring the hot, bitter sensation as it slid down his throat.

Brad’s eyes dropped to the tiny porcelain cup. “I have an idea, maybe you’re over-caffeinated.” The cup clattered down on the saucer as Harry glared at him. “It would explain the nerves and irritability,” he continued on, blasé.

“It’s neither the tabloids nor the caffeine,” Harry said, trying to suppress his irritation in the face of Brad’s wicked grin. Definitely some horrible combination of Hermione and Adam. Or perhaps a pixie. Pixies were right buggers.

“Mmm, according to Adam, the media attention’s a big part of your problem,” Brad said.

Harry sighed, “Adam told you that?”

“Of course. I told you, he’s been keeping me up-to-date on his life.”

“I doubt he’s told you every single detail,” Harry objected.

“Nope. Everything,” Brad’s eyelashes fluttered.

“Everything? Come off it,” Harry said. “He wouldn’t.”

“We’ve been BFFs, well, forever,” Brad said. “The whole shebang.”

“I don’t buy it,” Harry said with an edge to his voice. Adam wouldn’t if only because he knew Harry was obsessive about his privacy.

“Yep. Even the way you climbed all over him at that club. What was it… Oh, yes,” he beamed, “the Apex?”

Harry felt his face heating up. Okay, Adam might have. Harry was going to murder him when he got out of this bloody awful situation. “Alright, I have… Some issues with the media. They’re obnoxious. It isn’t a crime to want to avoid them.”

“At the expensive of living your life?” Brad waved off the idea. “Never mind, you did say it wasn’t the media. What, are you not interested in him?” He said it with the tone of one who wouldn’t buy it if Harry said no.

“What if that was it?” Harry asked, half a challenge. He couldn’t really refute his interest, but he could damn well hedge out of the question.

Brad laughed, “Sugar, from everything I’ve heard, you couldn’t pull off that load of crap with a two-year-old. You’ve made out with him, flirted, done everything short of an actual, full-on date, even put up with the fans and media. Yeah, PR put out a statement, but you could’ve slapped them down every time you ran into one and you didn’t. If anything, you and Adam are seen together even more.”

“We’re not,” Harry said. “It’s the same old, and you can verify that little fact with Adam. Just people are looking now.” That was true. Harry even tried avoiding Adam to little affect. Their work simply tended to cross paths, especially since he began working with Jack.

Brad nodded in understanding. “The fact of the matter is, if you’re not interested in Adam, you sure as hell have led him on. But I think you are interested. You just need to get your shit together.”

“What do you mean, ‘get my shit together?’” Harry asked, an edge to his voice. The suggestion that he would lead Adam on made him mad. He would never..! And fuck it, he really didn’t care for Brad.

Brad shook his head, “Sugar, you’re cute and all with your denial issues and alarming penchant for missing the obvious, but you’re going to have to listen closely to me here, because this one is important.” He waited to see that Harry was paying attention. Harry was. He may not like Brad, but he would still hear him out, especially since he sounded so serious. “You are not the only one in this.”

Harry’s eyes slid closed in pure frustration. It would be nice if Brad made sense, just once in this conversation. “What?”

Brad was staring at him intently. He visibly deflated, shoulders slumping. “Damn. Okay. Let’s try this again. You know the expression, it takes two to tango?”

“Ye-ah?” Harry said.

“You,” Brad waved at him, “Are not the only one in the relationship.”

Harry sighed, “We’re not in a relationsh—”

“Why don’t we just hold off on labeling the relationship for now,” Brad interrupted with an exasperated huff. “The important thing here is not the type of relationship that you two have, only that you have one—”

“We don’t—”

“Even if that relationship is a friendship.” Brad eyed him. When Harry’s mouth closed from the forming objection and he leaned back in his seat reluctantly, Brad continued, “Okay. We agree you two have an as of yet undefined relationship then?”

Harry nodded. Something told him he was really going to hate where this was going. Probably because Brad was going to be right. Like Hermione.

“Good,” Brad relaxed back and commenced with staring at Harry again. “It takes two to form a relationship. You have to get over this idea you seem to have that you’re the only one in this particular relationship. FYI, Adam’s in it too.”

This was exactly why he didn’t want to date Adam. Because he was fucking awful with anyone who got too close. “Do I treat him that way?” He asked Brad seriously. He didn’t want that, and shit, if Adam was confiding everything to Brad, then it had to mean Adam felt that way, didn’t it?

Brad looked completely taken aback at Harry’s question. He hesitated a second before he said, “I think you should know, Adam’s got his own issues. You’re not the only one, and you should stop treating things like you are. Relationships are two-way streets.”

Harry felt like he’d been slapped. “Right.” He picked at a piece of biscotti, staring at it. “Right.” Merlin, what was he supposed to do now? The little fight or flight voice was going off in his head, telling him to leave before he really hurt Adam, if he hadn’t already.

A foot nudged his shin under the table. Harry looked up at Brad, startled. “You’re making me feel like a monster here, honey. You’ve got kicked puppy written all over your face.”

Harry snorted, “Hardly a monster for being a good friend.” Harry had to respect him for that. He’d thought Brad was playing annoying villain and now it felt upside down. Was Harry the villain here?

“I’m only saying, if you keep going like this, you’re going to lose him,” Brad said. He nudged the plate of biscotti closer again. “At the rate you’re going, I’m not sure you don’t deserve it, but he sees something in you so I assume something’s there.”

“I’m not so sure,” Harry said. A sigh escaped his lips and he found his attention wandering to the busy street beyond the window. “It’s a lot more complicated than…suddenly letting things happen.”

Brad was silent for a minute. Then, “Why don’t you just do that?”

“Do what?” Harry glanced back at him.

“Let things happen. Stop trying to control things.” Brad held up a hand before Harry could even think about objecting. “I don’t know why you’re trying to control things like some anal British school marm, maybe they’re good reasons, but maybe you should just sit back, relax, and let life lead you where it may.”

“You say that like its easy,” Harry said. He felt a flare of grudging admiration.

“It takes practice,” Brad said. “Life isn’t always easy. Everyone knows that. But you can’t let whatever control issues and fear you have ruin the glorious parts.”

“Glorious?” Harry smiled.

“Oh, trust me, honey,” Brad returned the smile with a wink and grin of his own, “Whatever time you spend with Adam, it’ll be glorious. After all, he’s a lot like me.”

----------

Adam looked up from his focus on the laptop resting on his knees as someone came bursting through the hotel door. He was surprised to see Harry in what had to be his favorite pair of jeans and simple grey shirt hiding under… He grinned, one of Adam’s own button-ups.

“Look,” Harry started.

“That’s my shirt.” He bit his lip, smiling despite it. “Not that I mind. You look sexy enough to eat in it, but, what the hell? Where’d you even find it?” Then he couldn’t stop his laugh, “Going through my bags, baby?”

Harry stared down at the blue and red plaid button-up in surprise. “Oh. Honestly, I thought this was Kris’s? I wondered why it was so bloody large.”

Adam sat up, dropping his feet from the coffee table and setting the laptop down. “Despite suggested evidence, Kris does not own all the plaid in the known universe. I own a few of the patterned articles. …wait, you’ll steal Kris’ clothes and not mine? Double standard much!” He tried staring Harry down, which would have worked a lot better if Harry had even been looking at him. He was still fiddling with the shirt.

“It was left behind in the theatre of one of the last few sound checks. You know how shit wanders around the stops.” He sighed and looked around. “Brad isn’t here, is he?”

Adam stuffed the loose papers crammed along the side of the chair into his notebook before dropping it next to the computer. “Yeah, no, he’s gone back to his hotel before the show tonight. When did you two meet? He’s only been around since this morning. A pit stop before he meets up with friends in New York.”

Harry nodded his head, “Yeah, nice bloke. A little too, er, insane.”

Adam laughed, “He can be intense. You’ll love him when you spend more time around him. C’mon, sit down, baby. I’m guessing you’re here for more than Cheeks.” He squeezed himself to one side of the overlarge chair and patted the spot next to him.

Harry eyed him with amusement. “There’s an entire couch right next to you. Plenty of space, love.”

Adam shook his head, “I like to share. Get your ass over here.”

Harry went the long way around the coffee table and settled onto the couch.

“Bitch,” he flicked his pen at Harry, chuckling when Harry sent it flying back.

Harry nodded at the laptop, “What are you working on now?”

“Just sorting through songs. Writing some, looking over what management sent me. Things are happening so damn fast.” Adam studied him, inspecting every inch of his – yes, Harry was so his – roadie, and noticing the worry etched around the corners of his eyes. Adam missed Harry’s glasses; he must have found his contacts again. “Forget my stuff. You look like one of the busses ran you over.”

Harry took a deep breath, “I had a chat with Brad.”

Adam’s slow smile froze in place. “Ah. That’s…” A little terrifying. Oh shit.

“I think we need to have another talk.” Harry edged along the couch until his knee bumped Adam’s.

“Shit.” And that was about all Adam could think to say on the subject. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what Cheeks had said to Harry. Only he really, really did. He was going to throttle him, because Harry looked seriously skittish here, and what if Adam couldn’t pull him back from pulling away?

“Look,” Harry began, swallowing hard. He met Adam’s eyes squarely, one of those little qualities he fucking loved about him. Eye-contact, it seemed so unimportant, but it really wasn’t. It was a connection, an awareness both people were communicating. “I… You’re normal. I’m not. I’m really not normal, Adam. Normal and not normal, those sorts of relationships just don’t work out.”

Adam’s smile unlocked. He relaxed a little. He could definitely fix this. He was pretty sure. Almost positive. “I would have said it’s the other way around.”

Harry snorted, “Trust me, it’s not.”

“I don’t know,” Adam said. “I’m the celebrity, Harry. You’re supposed to be the normal guy in this, remember?”

Harry actually laughed past the nerves still painted across his face. Definitely a step in the right direction, Adam thought. “Right, well, you know how to pick them, don’t you? Because in this one, you’re definitely the normal one.”

“Care to elaborate on—”

“Not really,” Harry interrupted. He seemed intent on staring Adam down. “Cheeks said… Never mind. If anything happened between us. Adam, you’ll end up getting hurt. I’ll end up hurting you, it’s what happens. And I don’t want that to happen. I really bloody don’t. You’re a good bloke.”

Adam was trying really hard not to smirk, if only because the situation really did not call for smirking. But Harry was so ridiculously adorable with the whole reverse compliment habit of his, and every time he did it all Adam could think about was Harry just admitted liking him. A lot.

“Why are you bloody grinning?” Harry snapped. He jabbed Adam’s knee. “Are you listening to me at all?”

“Yep, all ears, baby. And I think that’s the nicest thing you have ever said to me,” Adam said cheerfully. At Harry’s pissed expression he sobered up, “I do get it. I just don’t care. You said yourself, I’m a good man. Stress on the word ‘man’ there. I’m an adult, Harry. I can handle myself.”

“A little too well,” Harry said dryly.

Adam burst out laughing.

“Still doesn’t mean this is what I want,” Harry said.

“Only because you’re scared of whatever you’re steadfastly not saying,” Adam said. He smiled at Harry lazily, eyes narrowing and promising a whole hell of a lot of things he knew Harry would ignore.

“And how are you so sure of yourself?” Harry tugged the plaid shirt around his middle, absently fiddling with one of the buttons.

Adam watched for a second before meeting his eyes again. He shook his head, “The way you act, of course, baby.”

The completely confused look he sported was kind of adorable too, though vastly more frustrating. “What do I do?”

Adam knew that question was coming. He was already thinking up answers. “You watch each of my performances. Every night. Every show.”

Harry arched an eyebrow, “You’re a brilliant performer. That doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

Adam rolled his eyes, “And that means you want to catch every performance. Alli’s good too, but you’re not showing up for her set. You could avoid me too, especially after all this tabloid shit, but you don’t.”

“You’re a friend,” Harry objected immediately.

“We fight all the time,” Adam added.

“Friends fight,” Harry said.

“And we don’t stay pissed at each other. You watch me all the time.” Harry blushed this time, making Adam grin. “And get flustered when I flirt with you. Like I get under your skin.” He leaned forward, propping elbow on knee and chin in hand. “I like the way you talk to me, just sort of react, like you’re not thinking about what you say before you say it.”

Harry looked startled. “I don’t think about it. Why in the world should I? But hell, Adam, that doesn’t mean—”

Adam didn’t hesitate a second before he added on, “coup de foudre.”

Harry stopped talking. He stared at Adam, swallowed. “Um. What?”

“Coup de foudre,” Adam repeated. His nose scrunched, “That’s right, right? The pronunciation’s a bitch.”

Harry blinked rapidly, “Struck by lightning?” He sat back against the couch, chewing is bottom lip.

Adam blinked back, “I thought it was love at first sight?” Well, screw that website. It was the first time google ever failed him. Harry looked like he was considering bolting, and damn, Adam was hoping that line would go over so much better than it had.

Harry’s mouth twitched. “It means both. Literally, to be struck by lightning, figuratively, love at first sight.”

“Huh,” Adam hummed. One for google after all. Harry was smiling again and relaxing a little more. “Lightning strike, it suits you. Us.” He believed in love at first sight, feeling that connection with someone instantaneously, feeling that zing.

Except Harry was looking a little freaked out again. “You’re in love with me?”

“Love might be a little strong,” Adam amended. Okay, google one, Adam zero, just possibly. “Attraction at first site? Magnetic pull? There’s something between us? That zing?”

“Zing,” Harry said and then nothing. He was watching Adam, expression blank, more puzzled than anything.

“Oh my god, what did Brad say to have you looking at me like I’m a bomb about to go off?” Adam asked finally. He was sure under any other circumstances they would both be laughing and having rambling conversations about French and idioms right about now.

Harry huffed, “That’s not really important—”

“It must be to drive you all the way to my room just so you could tell me we’re a bad fit and stare at me like I’m about to jump you with a pair of handcuffs.” That last wasn’t really a bad idea. At least then he could be sure to keep Harry around long enough to get the whole story, not to mention all the other fun they could have with a decent pair of handcuffs. There was something Brad could discuss. If he hadn’t already.

Harry ran an aggravated hand through his hair. “Why can’t you leave it at that? At my being wrong for you? At the eventuality that I’ll hurt you? That it’s best to stop this now? Why can’t you accept that I know best, in these circumstances?”

“Why can’t you explain the circumstances?” Adam returned. Like hell Harry was going to get away with running away after that poor excuse.

“Mer—hell.” Harry sighed. Adam stared at him with a ‘yeah, I did catch that, Harry’ expression. “Merlin then. Why do you care so damn much?”

“Why do you?”

“Who said I did?”

“I think we covered this already, baby. Anyway, if you didn’t you could have blown me off in a hundred different ways by now,” Adam said. “But you don’t. You respond and engage. You’re here with me.”

Harry stared at him in pure shock.

Adam took one look at his face and burst out laughing again. “Oh my god, Harry.” He stood up, shifted over Harry’s legs and dropped himself next to the man on the couch, slipping an arm around his back to wrap him a hug. “You’re fucking priceless, you know that?”

“I’m a bloody idiot,” Harry corrected.

“Nah, you’re just irresistibly drawn to my magnetic allure,” Adam laughed.

“Hmm, yes. I think I can reasonably blame this on you,” Harry said, smiling a little.

Adam pressed a brief kiss to the top of Harry’s head. “If you haven’t noticed, we’re pretty hot together, even when you’re being a bitch. You’ll come around eventually.”

Harry stifled a groan against Adam’s shoulder. “It’s called ‘giving up,’ Adam.”

“Never going to happen.” Adam said. “We both want this, if only you’d stop being a stubborn fuck.”

His shoulders slumped. “Sometimes it’s not just about wanting.”

Sometimes the things Harry said blew him away. Adam shook his head, “Yes, it is. If you want something, you go after it. It doesn’t matter what’s going on around you. You’re holding yourself back, nothing else, Harry. You can trust me. There’s nothing else I can tell you. Whatever it is, whatever scares you, makes you think this is a bad idea, makes you ignore me when I’m right in front of you, waving a damn flag and singing your name… You can trust me with it.”

“You know we’ve only known each other a couple months,” Harry said, head tucked under Adam’s chin. “In the grand scheme of things…”

Adam squeezed him slightly. “In the grand scheme of things, I doubt either of us have a damn clue. But I’m a very trustworthy person, even for just two months.”

“I know,” Harry sighed softly.

“Is that the sound of you conceding?” Adam cheered silently. Whatever Harry said, it was progress. Lots of progress. Maybe he wouldn’t kill Brad after all.

“Not in the slightest.”

“Come on, baby,” Adam said. “One date? It will be spectacular. You know I'm gonna be so good to you.”

“Not a chance,” Harry said.

Adam groomed fingers lazily through Harry’s hair. “You’ll come to your senses eventually.”

“Or you will,” Harry said.

“Mmm.” Adam knew better than that, but he’d humor Harry until another increasingly more frequent opportunity cropped up. “Got anywhere to be?”

“I never could’ve stopped by if I did. Allison’s been working her charms with Angie. But it will be pretty quiet until the show now anyway. You’ll have to go soon. An hour?” Harry glanced at his watch.

“Sick,” Adam sunk down on the couch a little, grabbing the remote before nudging at Harry until he got them both horizontal. He settled an arm over Harry’s waist after Harry finished squirming and shifting.

“Oh, bloody hell, Brad was right. I am leading you on,” Harry groaned a minute later while Adam channel surfed.

Adam forcibly pushed himself up on one elbow to lean over and peer down at his couch-mate’s worried face. “Is that what he said to you?” He was once again revising his opinion on killing the social butterfly.

Harry made a face, “Stop fucking towering over me, Adam.”

Adam scowled down at him, “You are not ‘leading me on,’ Harry.”

“Would you know if I was?” Harry snapped back.

“Yes. Because I am not a total fucking moron,” Adam said. No wonder Harry was upset and looked ready to bolt. No wonder he was suddenly obsessed about hurting Adam. He was going to torture Brad and then kill him. “And as much as you and Brad may be concerned about my wellbeing, I can and will make my own damn decisions about it.”

Harry propped himself up in his elbows. Adam rested a hand on his chest to keep him from getting up, because getting up invariably meant leaving. “Adam, I am not looking to date.”

“Sometimes you find it anyway,” Adam said stubbornly. He reined his temper in before they started a fight that resulted in days of avoiding each other. All he really wanted was an hour of cuddling and zoning out before someone came to get him for the show. “Look, I don’t have it all worked out. But I have pieces of you worked out. Those pieces make me want you more, make me want to know you more, so…” Adam put on his best seductive smile.

“Oh, knock it off.” Harry rolled his eyes.

The look dropped off Adam’s face. He offered a half smile instead, “Anyone else would have swooned.”

“Tenner says I can list five people who wouldn’t have,” Harry said. He dropped back onto the couch.

“…I refuse to take such an easy challenge.” Adam settled back in beside Harry, dropping his arm around his waist again. He looked down at the curve of Harry’s cheek, the bump of his nose, and the teeth worrying a reddening lip. He wondered if Harry would bolt if he kissed him.

Harry’s head tilted back to look at him. “Don’t you have songs to sort through?”

“Needed a break,” Adam said. “Let’s just crash and watch something for awhile.” He contemplated the muted TV screen for a second before contemplating the top of Harry’s head again.

Harry craned to look at him again, “You have the remote..?”

Adam beamed down at him, “Yeah, I do.” He leaned down and dropped a slow, light kiss on Harry’s lips, just a press of the lips really, savoring the salt of his skin and the noise of surprise. When he pulled back he felt calm and happy again. “So, Jersey Shore’s on.”

----------

The man was average in every sense of the word. Average height, average hair, forgettable face, quiet voice. He wore jeans and a t-shirt with a pair of beaten up sneakers. There was nothing remarkable about him. That is, until Harry ran into him for the third time in one day and didn’t even remember it.

“Harry, isn’t it?” The guy asked.

Harry frowned, “I’m sorry?”

“Steve Bale.” The man smiled shyly. “We met a couple hours ago, outside by the barriers.”

“Oh, right! Steve.” Harry got that sinking feeling. “We met at the diner on fifth street too, didn’t we?” He only remembered that because Steve mentioned it last time they met by the barricades.

“Yeah! That’s me.” Steve peered past Harry into the arena. “Are the artists rehearsing then?”

“Steve, how did you get in here?” Harry asked. They were in the amphitheatre, at their latest stop in Pittsburgh, and no one but employees was allowed in.

“I’m here for the concert then the fan meet after,” Steve said.

“Ah. That’s not for a several hours yet. I’m afraid you have to leave,” Harry nodded in the direction of the exit.

Steve stayed where he was. “No one seemed to mind.”

“They would if they realized,” Harry insisted. He wondered why they hadn’t. He wondered why he hadn’t. Sweet Merlin, that was disturbing. “You’ve got to go.”

“But when do I get to come back?”

“In a couple hours, when the venue opens to attendees,” Harry said. He led Steve toward the closest exit.

“You were in the papers with Adam, weren’t you?” Steve asked as Harry hustled him toward the door.

“…in the tabloids, yes,” Harry said.

Steve craned around to look at Harry. “You’re dating then.”

“No, those were just rumors,” Harry said. “I thought they’d died down by now.”

Steve shook his head, “Things don’t die down in the world of fan gossip. So there’s nothing between you two?” He sounded skeptical.

Harry did not need this from a bloody fan. Everyone was a bloody suspicious critic. “We’re mates, friends, as it happens, and that’s it.”

“Even though you two went dancing together?” Steve asked.

Harry urged him through the door out into the bright sunlight of ‘not the amphitheatre.’ “It’s just dancing.”

“It looked like more than that, the way Adam was all over you, so mad when you were dancing with that other guy,” Steve said. He walked outside slowly, a little frown on his face.

“Right.” Harry said, “Looks can be deceiving.”

Steve smiled slightly, “Suppose so.” He waved. “See you later, I guess.”

Harry watched him walk off until Steve vanished around a corner, ignoring the security guard’s questioning look. “Don’t…let him back in, okay?” A disturbing chill crept up Harry’s spine. The only club Harry and Adam had ever been to was Apex, and the only photos that surfaced from that were of Adam and Harry leaving it with Jack. How the hell did this guy know Adam had pulled Harry off Alex?

He needed to talk to Jack.

----------

“Tell me when you see him,” Jack said, hovering behind Harry. They were up in the small surveillance room of the amphitheatre. Jack took it over when Harry came to talk to him about Steve. Now Harry was sitting in front of a dozen television screens with Jack standing broodingly behind him.

It took a minute to locate him, but Harry was not surprised to find him hanging around. “By the barricades,” he pointed at the screen. “White t-shirt, sandy hair. He’s got a VIP pass, Jack. He’s not going anywhere.”

“We could refuse to admit him,” Jack said grimly.

“That’d go over well,” Harry scoffed. “You know better. There would be a ruckus for refusing him when we’re going on a vague notion.”

“You’ve seen him three times today and it sounds like he was in Washington, DC too,” Jack reminded.

Harry shook his head, “Still slim evidence.”

“I’ll take care of that.” Jack rewound the tape and froze the screen on Steve. He printed it. “Stay up here, keep an eye on him. I’ll call down and have someone cover for you. Do not go outside on your own, got it?”

“Jack,” Harry rolled his eyes. “I can take care of myself. I’m not incompetent here.”

“I mean it, Harry.” Jack headed out the door.

“Anyone else can watch a telly screen, Jack!” Harry yelled after him. “I have to help get half the set together!”

Jack’s head popped back into the room. “You stay here. I’m calling down, someone will fill in for you.” Harry’s frown told Jack exactly what he thought of that plan. Jack ignored him.

“I mean it, Harry, keep your ass glued to that seat,” Jack’s voice carried back from the stairwell. “Eugenia will be up in twenty.”

----------

Jack called together a powwow. He’d circulated Steve’s photo among the crew in record time, making sure everyone had seen it. He had gathered details with ease and was carrying around his laptop like it was the holy grail.

After a brief fight with Angie—something Harry had watched on the security cameras and honestly wished he’d had popcorn for—Jack won thirty minutes to do as he pleased with the Idol tour team. Everyone who had seen Steve had all been collected and questioned.

Now nearly twenty people fidgeted and milled across one small room, most of them congregating around the snack table. Harry was under the impression Jack had thrown an impromptu, extremely awkward party. Only it consisted solely of members of the security team, and the two biggest showstoppers, Kris and Adam. It all felt like a bit of an office birthday affair. It was hard not to snicker at the image.

Jack elbowed him in the side. “Since this has all happened due to you, I’d appreciate a little more seriousness on your part.”

Harry willed the grin off his face. “Sorry, captain. Won’t happen again.” Oh, Merlin, he was watching too much telly with Matt. Gilligan’s Island was beginning to seep into his subconscious.

Jack eyed him. He seemed to decide to ignore Harry and instead turned toward the crowd. “Alright, people, we’ve got,” he glanced at his watch, “twenty-three minutes before our beloved manager comes charging in here to send us all on our merry way. Let’s get the show on the road!”

He flipped open his laptop and connected it with the television. “This is Steve Bale. I understand at least thirty people on this tour have seen him at one point or another.” He flicked to another screen. “This is a list of locations and times he’s been spotted. As you may notice, he’s shown up across six states, possibly eight. I’ve gathered full details on these incidences. I’ve called this meeting to go over them and establish a plan of action. Questions?”

Kris raised a hand, “I get why security is all over this. But why are me and Adam here? And Harry?”

“Harry’s adopted security,” Mark, a large, butch man chuckled. Harry sent him a glare.

“He’s also a key witness,” Jack said pointedly.

“You’ve seen him too then?” Adam asked. Concern laced his voice. “You never mentioned.”

“Neither did you,” Harry said. “In any case, I only noticed him today.”

“He’s stalking Harry?” Adam asked Jack.

“What?” Harry jerked slightly. “Who said that?”

“Harry, he’s been following you around all day,” Jack said.

Harry’s face set mulishly. “I never said that. I said I’ve seen him three times today and barely noticed. He could be following anyone, thank-you.”

“Which is exactly why I’ve asked Adam and Kris here.” Jack nodded at Kris, “To answer your question, Kris, the three of you are at biggest risk. Any stalker spotted is most likely to be one of yours.”

“I’m going to argue and say it’s most likely Adam’s or Harry’s,” Kris said, offering an apologetic grin to Adam. “Your fans are the craziest.”

“Usually they’re the best sort,” Adam grinned back.

“Kids, this is not a laughing matter,” Jack snapped.

“Yeah,” someone spoke from the back, “If there’s a stalker following one of you three, we need to squash it fast. You have no idea how bad these things can get.” Half the security team nodded. Harry knew from all the stories, usually over poker, that working in security, they tended to run into stalkers. It was half the job. It could get creepy. Letters penned in blood sort of creepy.

Harry buried his head in his hands, “I’m worried he’s stalking Adam, not me.” He inserted into the buzzing conversation.

“He’s run into you three times,” Jack said, a note of patience in his voice.

“Exactly,” Harry said, glancing up waspishly.

“That proves Jack’s point more than yours, Harry,” Mark said after a pause.

“No, it doesn’t,” Harry sighed. “He’s had me unawares three times and hasn’t done a thing. I’m either not the focus of his attention or he’s a harmless groupie.”

“Or his obsession hasn’t elevated to the point of attacking you,” Jack said even as Mark broke in with,

“That’s not how it works, Harry.”

And Adam grumbled, “Fuck, Harry, come on.”

“I think I know a little about this,” Harry began. Voldemort had to be worse than any stalker these bodyguards had come across. Not to mention some of his own fans. Harry knew obsession and stalking patterns.

“As observant as you are, you’re not really security, Harry,” Someone spoke up.

Harry’s mouth slammed shut. His eyes narrowed and his fingers clenched around the table he was leaning against. He wanted to punch whoever said that. No, Harry wasn’t security, he was only the one who noticed this Steve in the first place. Apparently getting stalked by a half-human psychopath bent on Harry’s destruction was utterly different than getting stalked by an obsessed fan bent on winning over someone’s undying affection. Alright, they didn’t know that about him. Jack and Adam barely knew the basic facts. It did not stop the feeling of offense from welling up. He probably had more experience than anyone else here.

Jack waited a beat and then moved on. “We’re here so we can all be updated on everything we now know about Bale. Adam, Kris and Harry, who have all met Bale in person, will fill us in on any impressions. You’ll pass the information on to the security teams on duty. Angie and I will talk to the Idols and other members of staff.”

“What about the fact that he’s due to show up in about two hours?” Harry asked. “Concert attendee, VIP tickets and all that.”

Jack scowled, “We’ll let him in. We’ll just keep a close eye on him. Alright, impressions?”

“I talked to him a couple days ago, out at the barriers in Albany,” Adam said. “Nothing seemed odd about him. He was a nice guy, asked for my autograph. He stared a lot, but that’s not exactly unusual,” Adam shrugged.

“He didn’t say anything?” Mark asked.

“He asked for my autograph, that’s it,” he frowned. “He made some comment, but I didn’t catch it.”

Kris’ eyebrows drew together, “He was really nice, soft spoken and everything. I remember thinking at the time how nice it was to meet someone who didn’t scream at me. He seemed a little out of place. That was a few days back, coming into the center at, er, Boston, I think. He wasn’t weird or anything.” Kris frowned, “Though he did ask about Adam.”

“Me?” Adam looked surprised. “What about?”

“Usual stuff,” Kris shrugged. “Where were you. Could he talk to you. What shampoo do you use.”

“What shampoo does he use?” Harry asked incredulously. A spike of worry went through him. The stalker was definitely not his. He did not like the idea of some psychopath watching Adam. The worry was followed by a paranoid chill, a throwback to Voldemort, Harry was sure. Voldemort stalking Adam. Harry wanted to hex something at the thought alone.

“It’s not that weird,” Kris defended. He looked apologetic anyway.

“It’s not,” Adam affirmed. “My fans are always asking crazy shit. Just this morning I found a comment on twitter, someone asking what type of condoms I use. It was retweeted thirty times.”

Snickers went through the room. Mark shook his head, “You’re joking.”

Adam made a ‘wish I was’ face and laughed at Mark’s expression. “What can I say, everybody loves me.”

“A little too much,” Harry grumbled.

Adam beamed, “Jealous, baby?”

The look Harry gave him could have stopped Superman in his tracks. Adam, however, was impervious. Despite his best efforts, Harry could not work out how he had an automatic defense against all of his expressions. “I think we can safely say Steve is stalking Adam if anyone, and therefore you can all stop looking at me like I’m a toddler about to get run over by a pedophilic van.”

“We can’t rule out any possibilities yet, Harry,” Jack said firmly.

“Oh! He was at that bar in DC,” Adam added suddenly, sitting up a little straighter.

“What?” Harry looked up. “No, he wasn’t.”

“He was,” Adam said. “Sitting two tables down from the one all your friends were at. I noticed him that night, but it didn’t connect with the guy I met a couple days ago. He’s kind of nondescript.” Which Harry knew Adam really hated saying about people; he liked to believe there was something interesting about everyone.

Harry looked slightly freaked out. “Did he do anything?”

“He sat there drinking, watching the spectacle you—we were making.” Adam winced ever so slightly. Harry’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t notice anything else. We left not long after that.”

Jack stepped in, moving the conversation on to all the other sightings. He listed everyone who had seen Bale and their experiences with him.

“He’s always around,” A security woman muttered. “At the centers, the hotels, restaurants and interviews. How did we fail to notice him before?”

Harry thought that was a really good question.

Jack shook his head, “I don’t know. I don’t like this. I’d rather we not let this guy in tonight, but until we have something a little more concrete to back this up, I want double detail working tonight. And Charlie, contact our previous locations for surveillance footage. Let’s see if we can’t pinpoint when we started hauling around our little groupie.”

After the meeting Jack pulled him aside. “You don’t like it.”

“Remind me what’s to like, Jack,” Harry muttered.

“Nothing much we can do beyond this,” Jack shrugged. “How’d you notice him, Harry?”

Harry shook his head, “He told me.” At Jack’s raised eyebrow, Harry elaborated, “He came up to me three times in one day. If I didn’t connect the dots at that point I might as well be put to pasture. Hell, I should have noticed earlier.”

“You’re not security,” Jack said. He gave Harry the look that said ‘we both know I don’t believe that, but until you tell me otherwise, we’re sticking to that story.’ “I should have noticed earlier.”

Harry scowled, “Why didn’t we?”

Adam came up beside them, draping an arm across Harry’s shoulders. “Jack, I do wish you would stop taking up all of Harry’s time. I barely see him anymore. Someone named Tucker is bringing me all my coffee these days, and at least one chai latte goes to waste every day.”

“Maybe you should stop ordering them,” Harry said.

Adam leaned into him a little and carded his fingers through Harry’s hair. “I keep hoping you’ll come back to me.”

“You’ve got your wish,” Jack informed him.

“What?” Adam and Harry said in unison.

“While, ah, talking to Angie today I convinced her it might be a good idea for Harry to shadow you for awhile,” Jack said, leading them down the hallway. “That is, Harry, you’ll be working with light and sound checks, mid-concert problems, but otherwise you’ll be the eleventh Idol.”

Adam literally began bouncing at Harry’s side. “This is going to be sick,” He said gleefully.

“I’m going to be sick,” Harry said. “Jack—”

“Adam, you’re late for rehearsal,” Jack said.

“Isn’t Harry supposed to come too?”

“Go.”

Adam laughed. “Your sense of humor is failing you, Jack.” He strutted out of the room.

“Are you trying to make my life hell?” Harry asked Jack once the door closed.

Jack gave him a long stare. Harry had that annoying feeling he constantly got with Jack, the one that told Harry Jack was saying long and irritating sentences that completely invalidated Harry’s argument with one expressive gaze.

“We both know there are things about yourself that you don’t mention,” Jack said. “And one or two of those things—shall we say, certain skill sets—could be quite useful for keeping an eye on both Adam and Kris. Adam and Kris almost live and breathe the same space every single day. Your keeping an eye on them, despite what you may think, is a great deal less intrusive than, say, my suddenly dogging their every move.”

“And it doesn’t hurt that your three main stalker victims are all clumped together in one spot day in and day out,” Harry said pointedly. It also didn’t hurt that Adam was already prone to dragging Harry along every single opportunity he got. Harry tagging along with the Idols wouldn’t look out of the ordinary at all. Like hell he was going to remind Jack of that though.
“It certainly doesn’t hurt my job,” Jack grinned, showing all his teeth.

There was one flaw Harry happily jumped on. “If I’m being glued to Adam, what about all his traveling and side trips for his album? He’s been running around like mad for it. I can hardly run off with him on those excursions and keep an eye on Kris.”

“I’m working on that one,” Jack said. “He’s not off for another session for a couple days. I’ll arrange something by then. Angie already agreed to this idea, Harry. So you’ve got two options before you: go along with my dastardly plan or quit.”

“Even though this could easily end up drawing more media attention?” Harry tried.

“Safety, I’m afraid, is more important than pesky reporters sticking their noses everywhere they don’t belong,” Jack said mildly.

“Fine,” Harry rubbed at his face. “Just fine. I’ll be their shadow. Do I get paid overtime?”

----------

As it happened, Harry didn’t get paid overtime. He worked four more hours, on a good day, but his new career as hired Idol stalker apparently fell under “your own personal protection” and not “work that demands cash payment.”

Harry didn’t push the issue. The managers and just about everyone else were at the end of their respective ropes as it was and Harry didn’t want to get fired over it. The idea of Adam having a stalker without Harry around to keep an eye on him, it did not sit well at all.

And he was quite sure the stalker was Adam’s. Harry did not get the vibe he usually got when being stalked. The one that made his hair stand on end and caused him to act like Mad Eye Moody on a bad ‘the trees are watching me’ day.

Someone propped their arms on the edge of the van’s middle seat, chin resting on forearms. “Whatchya thinkin’ about?”

Harry tilted his head back toward Allison. “Nothing.”

“You have an introspective look,” Allison said, nudging his shoulder with her elbow.

“Probably ‘cause we’re all asleep on our feet,” Scott said from the back.

“And who knows how long Adam’s keeping him up at night,” Anoop added innocently. Adam laughed next to him.

Kris groaned at Harry’s side, “As Adam’s actual and sole roommate I can tell y’all to stuff it.”

“You’re just grumpy because Adam’s not crushing on you anymore,” Lil ruffled his hair.

Kris swatted her away, “I am not.”

“Aw, don’t worry, baby,” Adam leaned forward to ruffle his hair too, mussing it back into shape as an afterthought. “I’ll always have a place in my heart for my crush on you.”

Kris swatted Adam’s hand away too, but he was laughing. “You’re all assholes.”

“See what you’ve started, Harry?” Allison said, grinning and nudging him.

“I said one word.” Harry muffled a yawn. “But if you must know, I was thinking I’m not getting paid nearly enough for this.”

A bunch of cheers went up around the van, “None of us is getting paid enough!” Megan stretched. “We almost there?”

“Five minutes,” Mark said. “The radio’s been advertising, so there will be fans.”

“We getting hustled straight inside or do we get to play?” Adam asked.

“Autographs afterward,” Mark said.

Harry let his eyes slide shut again. Then again maybe getting fired wasn’t a half bad idea. If he was off the job, he could track this Bale guy on his own. It’d be a lot easier than babysitting and being babysat. He didn’t like sitting and waiting for the shoe to drop, never knowing where to expect Bale, but knowing he would show up nonetheless.

That was another thing. How the hell did he keep sneaking up on them? Despite their best efforts, the now constant watching, they never quite caught him before he caught them. It was as if Bale was popping up out of thin air from one moment to the next, only the security footage proved he was there the entire time, showed him coming and going.

Maybe it was better to say it was like Bale had some sort of perception filter, Harry thought. None of them could see him until he wanted to be seen.

It was driving Harry mad, the way Bale slid in and out of the picture like one of the blasted portraits back at school, back in the wizarding world.

If Harry didn’t know any better, he would say Steve Bale was a wizard. What were the odds of that? A wizard showing up to stalk Adam, Harry’s friend-or-something. But it wasn’t likely. Bale didn’t act or feel like a wizard in any sense, except for the bald fact he kept showing up in impossible places without a single person noticing.

“You’re doing it again,” Allison tapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll crack under my impressive and unrelenting interrogation sooner or later, man.”

Harry huffed, tilting his head back once more to look at the cheerful redhead. “You remind me irritatingly of Ginny,” He informed her

As distraction tactics went, it worked beautifully. Allison perked up and asked, “Ginny?”

“A friend of mine. From Britain,” Harry elaborated.

“What’s she like then?” Allison pushed. She leaned in a little closer, resting her chin on the back of the seat next to Harry’s head. “Do you keep in touch?”

“She’s a pain in the arse,” Harry said, not quite able to hide his smile. “She’s got five older brothers, grew up with six, and knows how to keep all of them in line without much effort. Could kick their arses across the countryside too, if she felt like. Has on occasion.”

“You grew up with her?” Allison asked. “Oh my god, is this the girl you almost married?”

Harry laughed, “Yeah, that’s her. She’s a bloody tyrant, gets it from her mum. Hold on.” He wiggled, lifting his hips up and digging out his wallet. He pulled out a slip of paper, “Her and me, not long before I moved to the U.S.”

Allison plucked it from him and dropped back into her seat. “She’s pretty. Were you two, like, in love in this picture?” She passed it over to Matt and Adam before Harry could ask for it back.

“Nope,” Harry said. “Just friends. We were mostly friends, just confused growing up.”

“You’re all over her,” Allison objected. “Arms wrapped around her. Hers on yours.”

“It’s just a hug, Alli.”

“Hmph. Tell me about her then—”

“We’ve arrived,” Mark called back from the front seat.

“Damn,” Allison pouted. “You’ll tell me more about her later, won’t you?”

Harry chuckled, “Anything you want to know.” Talking about Ginny was a hell of a lot better than talking about Bale, what he was really thinking about. Merlin knew how much everyone would flip out if he told them he hoped Bale was in the crowd outside this radio station, and at the next, and the next. Because he wanted to talk to Bale, face to face, and he had no idea how else to catch the guy. From all previous evidence, he certainly couldn’t catch the man unawares, so on his own turf it was. It had to be.

The group exited the car slowly. Harry climbed out of the car last, trying to hang back a little as
security hustled everyone up along the cleared path toward the entrance as fans waved excitably behind barricades. Adam slowed down himself, backing up a few feet to step along side Harry.

“Something up?” He asked quietly, peering down at him.

He was wearing large, black sunglasses and still somehow Harry could feel the heat of his stare. “No, it’s nothing. Come on.” He hooked his hand around Adam’s arm, tugging him forward. He steadfastly ignored the flash of cameras and shouted questions about their relationship. Adam walked alongside easily, not moving from Harry’s loose grip, but not reacting either. He waved to his fans cheerfully with his free hand. Harry noticed Mark’s arched eyebrow as they slid inside the door.

It might not have been smart. Harry was perfectly aware of that. But he couldn’t tell Adam he was hanging back to sniff out Bale, and he certainly wasn’t bloody leaving Adam out there as some sort of last man standing, just there in the open, available for whatever it was Bale wanted.

Harry glanced up to see Adam beaming down at him, one eyebrow quirked in silent question. Or amusement. Or triumph. Harry looked away. Bloody hell, he was not going there.

“Something going on?” Mark asked as they were ushered down the hallway.

“Apparently—” Adam started.

“Adam was lagging behind,” Harry interrupted quickly.

Adam stared at him, “I wasn’t—”

“Hello! I’m Fred Martin, I’ll be your host for this evening.” A tall, balding man in his forties stepped out into the hallway, beaming at them. “My kids wanted to come to work today, I had to let them down gently and promise autographs, if that’s alright with you all.”

Adam leaned in close as Fred waved them into the booth. “You’re so fucking explaining why you threw me under a bus later, baby.”

Harry patted him on the arm. “Not a chance in hell.”

Adam stopped to stare. “That’s a challenge.” He couldn’t stop his grin as he slid his sunglasses on top of his head.

“It’s not. It’s a fact.” He nodded toward the door. “You’re going to miss your interview.”

Adam vanished into the room, all smiles and a plot gleaming in his eyes. Mark cleared his throat, a pointed sound.

Harry shrugged at the bulky man’s stare, “I didn’t want him standing outside alone.”

“That’s all it was?” Mark asked skeptically. “A protective gesture from an Idol crewmember?”

“You wouldn’t do the same?” Harry asked, heading down the hallway. “I’m going to check out the fans,” He added over his shoulder.

“Be back in twenty,” Mark called after him in his most official no-nonsense tone.

“I’ll be back before our Idols have a chance to step out among their adoring masses,” Harry said. He slid out a side door, not wanting to go out the front and alert every single person to his presence. Really he only wanted to catch the attention of one person in particular.

And as luck would have it, Steve Bale was standing right there as Harry rounded the building, circling back to the front. He stood just off to the side of the main mass of the crowd. He would have to get around the circling fans, but if he went around the back he could avoid most of the attention. Thankfully, most fans weren’t interested in a tour worker alone, even one featured with one of their idols in all the tabloids.

Harry headed around the crowd, keeping an eye on his prey the entire time. Bale looked in his direction and focused in on him as though he couldn’t help it. Their eyes met and held. Harry was not going to look away under any circumstances. He didn’t want to lose track of Bale again.

Bale did not plan to look away either. He maintained eye contact even as he stood from his slouched position against a lamppost. He edged backward slowly.

Harry cursed silently and picked up pace. So did Bale.

Then a blur of flesh and black cotton tumbled into Harry’s view. A tall, lanky fan pushed shaggy blond hair back and smiled at Harry tentatively. “Sorry, tripped. Aren’t you..?”

Harry shifted around the bloke quickly and swore loudly. Bale was gone. He craned around, looking in every direction. There was no sign of him.

Harry scowled and turned to head back to the station. How the hell did Bale do it? He nearly walked straight into the lanky fan.

“Can I do something for you?” He asked crisply.

“Ah,” The guy hesitated, holding out a pen halfway. “You’re…you work… I mean… Would it be okay if I got your autograph?”

Harry barely bit back a snarl, and couldn’t quite stop the frown that automatically plastered itself across his mouth. “Why in the world would you want my autograph?”

“You’re Adam’s boy—uhm,” He stopped and backpedalled as fast as he could as Harry’s expression darkened. “Friend… And,” He hesitated again, “And you’re Harry Potter.”

“I don’t think that,” Harry felt his brain freeze over slightly. Had this kid really just called him Potter? He had never come across an Idol fan that also happened to be his own fan. “How did…you’re..?”

He pushed is hair back and lowered his voice, “Imma squib. My mom’s a witch.” He glanced around. “I’m Terry. Big fan.” He held up Enquirer questioningly. “Can I..?”

Harry bit his lip. “Terry? Can I make a personal request?”

Terry brightened, “Sure!”

“Two things really,” Harry amended. “Could you not…mention my surname around here? To Adam or other fans, or anyone?”

Terry smiled, confusion apparent. “Sure… Er, why? It is something to do with calling yourself ‘Grey’?” He patted the tabloid paper. “I thought that was funny.”

“Yeah, exactly. I’m Grey here, and I’d like to keep it that way if I can.” Harry smiled sheepishly, frustration vanishing into worry. “Would you mind my signing your paper with ‘Grey’? It’s important to me.”

“Yeah, sure!” Terry thrust the article toward him again, offering a green marker. “You were incredible in Britain. But I kept hoping you would sign on to a Quidditch team.”

Harry scrawled his name, Harrison Grey, and ‘thanks, Terry’ across his chest on the tabloid. He smiled briefly at the kid. “Things got a touch too exhausting in Britain. I needed to get away.”

“That’s why you’re here?” Terry asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “What’s your last name again, Terry?”

Terry nearly vibrated, a grin covering his face from ear to ear, “Lancen. Terry Lancen, from Three Points, Arizona.”

“You’re far from home,” Harry said.

“Not so far, magically speaking,” he said. “Thanks so much!”

“Sure thing. I’ve got to get back inside. It was nice to meet you,” Harry said, turning away.

“You too!” Terry waved at him.

Harry waved over his shoulder. He made a beeline for the door back inside as a few more fans eyed him curiously. It was a relief ducking into the air conditioned building. He felt he could let his guard down a little. The driver gave him a questioning look. Harry nodded at him and hoped he wouldn’t ask any awkward questions. “I better get back before they get out of the interview.”

Mark was leaning against the wall near the door to the booth. He arched an eyebrow at Harry’s approach. “Find anything of interest?”

“Not really,” Harry said. He didn’t want to go into something with Mark. It would end up a fight about Harry’s level of intelligence, he had no doubt, and an interesting report back to Jack too.

“You were gone a long time for nothing,” he said.

Harry shrugged, “I met a fan, actually.”

“A fan?”

“Yeah. Nice kid.”

“Okay.” Mark settled back against the wall. They waited silently for the Idols to come out of their interview. It was a blessedly quiet event after that. Harry was kicking himself for losing Bale, but it was a comfort to know the stalker was gone when Adam headed out to greet the fans.

He watched absently as Terry squeezed in and waved his tabloid at Adam. Adam took it with a smile and scrawled his name across it, glancing over it casually. He was seeing a lot of tabloids for autographs lately, Harry knew. But Adam paused, a tiny frown marring his forehead. He glanced in Harry’s direction for the briefest of seconds before he handed the article back to Terry. He asked Terry something with a smile. Terry beamed at him, said something back. Then Adam said something else and was moving on.

Harry let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He wondered what Adam asked.

----------

Part 2 || Part 4