(Author's note: I watched the 12th season of Idol's finale for Adam, but left with plotbunnies for Angie and Jessie femslash. Here's the prequel chapter of that story, from Adam's POV, with bonus Chradam. If I can muster my courage, I'll write the rest from Angie's and Jessie's POVs.

If you don't know Angie Miller's or Jessie J's music, you might want to watch these to get caught up before reading. All links are on Youtube except for the last one, which is on dailymotion.

Jessie's video of Do It Like A Dude, for context, and because oh my god hot: watch?v=pOf3kYtwASo

Angie singing Jessie's song Who You Are on Idol, which I like better than Jessie's version: watch?v=BzoxMptg-gw

Angie and Adam singing Titanium together on Idol, and awwww: watch?v=ZeTKWnLmwTg

Angie and Jessie singing Domino together on Idol (does not include the proposition afterwards): watch?v=WXjxscPvw-k

But you really should just watch the entire video of Titanium, Domino and the proposition that inspired this story: www .dailymotion video / xzyhy5

Angie went by Angela until after her first Idol audition, so I've used Angela in the story thus far.

Enjoy! -amy)

Chris leaned his head close enough to Adam's that his whisper could be heard over the scattered murmur of the lobby. "You told me we'd be anonymous here."

"Yeah," Adam agreed, scanning the room. "It's private: no press, no cell access. That doesn't mean nobody'll recognize us." He gave Chris an amused smile. "You should be used to that by now. Who's watching?"

"Seven o'clock." Chris took the carbon and signed his name, sliding it back over the counter to the bland attendant with a polite smile, who did indeed seem to be indifferent to the presence of either of them. There were definite advantages to vacationing at this particular Westport, Mass. resort, and Adam could thank Brian May for the suggestion he'd passed on last year.

Adam glanced over his shoulder at the quivering teenage girl hovering behind them. At his attention, she brightened, but did not approach them. He heard Chris stifle a soft sigh.

"I'm not going to be long," Adam murmured. Chris eyed him over the rim of his glasses.

"Sure you won't." He shouldered his bag with a good-humored smile. "No DVR here, either. If I get embroiled in Game of Thrones, I'm not going to want to stop, and you're just going to have to wait to download True Blood when we get home."

"Fifteen minutes tops," he promised. Chris didn't even roll his eyes - not that Adam had expected him to - as he took the key and headed for the elevator. When Adam turned back to the girl, she was obviously trying to get her mother not to notice, but he just smiled and gave her a little wave.

"Oh my god," the girl said under her breath.

"Yeah, you might as well get it over with, or else you're going to be playing the was that really...? game all night." He held out his hand to the girl's mother first. "Adam. You're staying here too?"

"My daughter's a big fan," said the woman, smiling back, "but I'm afraid I don't know your music. The kids are the musical ones in our family."

The girl's own handshake was solid and calm. "Angela Miller," she said. "This is my mom, Tana. We're here through next Monday. I can't believe it's you... and was that, with you...?" Her eyes flickered to the elevator, then back to Adam. It was respectfully done, but Adam just made a noncommittal noise.

"I think he might be too tired to be social tonight, but I bet we'll run into one another if you'll be here this weekend. You might even get him to talk if you ask him about his cat."

"Got it," Angela said, grinning. "Thanks for the tip. It's a pleasure to meet you. I really admired your success on Idol."

Chris hadn't even unpacked half of his suitcase before Adam slid the keycard in the door of their room. He glanced up in surprise. "What, did she mistake you for the latest incarnation of Elvis?"

"Who says I'm not?" Adam leaned over to kiss him. "No, she recognized me. And you, although I pushed you out of the way of that bullet."

"Thank you," Chris said solemnly, sinking down onto the quilt of the king-sized bed with a grateful sigh. "Not a fangirl, then?"

"You say that like it's a bad thing." He flipped the channel to HBO, climbing across Chris' legs to align their legs comfortably. Chris leaned his head on Adam's shoulder. "I think she was a musician. A kid, though. She seemed sweet."

That was the last Adam thought about Angela until Thursday, by which time he decided he was ready to wash his blue silk shirt. The girl at the desk gave him directions to the laundry in the basement, but as he was rattling doorknobs, looking for the right room, he heard a distinctly beautiful voice accompanied by a piano. Adam followed his ears.

It was Angela, her back to the door, singing Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah like she'd been born to do it. Adam stood there and listened for a good forty seconds before clearing his throat, feeling mildly guilty, but she didn't even pause. Knocking on the door didn't draw her attention, either. Eventually he had to actually walk into the room before she startled, her hands pausing mid-phrase.

"Oh!" She recovered quickly. "Um - hi! Come in, come in. I didn't hear you. I was just practicing."

"Your mom said you were a musician," he said, nodding appreciatively. "She wasn't kidding."

"I want to be," Angela said earnestly. "It's all I've ever wanted to do: perform. I just graduated from high school, and I'm taking the summer to practice."

"Oh, yeah?" Adam leaned on the door frame. "For what?"

She flushed. "Well, for Idol, actually."

"Really!" He laughed. Thankfully she seemed to realize he wasn't laughing at her.

"Really. My parents have saved up enough for me to fly to the audition. Your performances were so inspirational to me when I was younger. I watched every week."

"Well, you sound great," said Adam, ducking back out into the hallway.

It wasn't an idle compliment, he told Chris later, after he'd found the laundry and entrusted his blue silk to the delicate cycle.

"No, you don't really give those," Chris agreed. "Everything that isn't meant wholeheartedly comes out sounding a little snarky and backhanded."

"Too many years in the gay community. Seriously, though, she's talented. I wonder, though." He frowned. "Something's missing."

"What?"

"I don't know. It's like she's too nice." That wasn't quite it, but he resolved to figure it out.

Adam stalked the basement corridor a couple times that day, but he didn't catch sight of Angela again until the next morning, when she was heading out the door with her family. Her father watched in bemusement as Adam flagged her down, while Chris hung back by the elevator.

"We're heading out to the movies," she said, exhibiting what he was beginning to realize was the enthusiasm she applied to all things in her life. "I can't miss a Disney film on the big screen."

"Brave? Oh, I haven't seen it yet!"

She turned to her mother, raising her eyebrows. "You want to come along? They can, right? You and - and Mr. Colfer would be welcome."

Adam didn't even need to turn around to summon Chris to his side, shaking hands all around and smiling. "Chris, please. Mr. Colfer's my dad."

The Millers offered them a ride in the minivan. Jonathan, her older brother, was just as friendly and calm as Angela. Their father seemed a little on the reserved side, and when he explained that he was a Protestant minister, there was some brief awkwardness, but it was erased as soon as Angela asked about Chris' cat. Chris, telling stories in his inimitable dry manner, made Angela laugh hard enough that she begged him to stop or she was going to pee her pants.

"Isn't she adorable?" Adam whispered to Chris on the way into the tiny Westport theater. Chris made a moue, but had to concede Adam's opinion.

"I have a theory about the something-missing," Chris said. "Remind me later."

Chris sat between Angela and Adam at the show, and they managed to get through the entire movie without being interrupted by fans, which was somewhat refreshing. Angela made several completely unselfconscious gasps, cheers and even one boo. It made Adam smile, to see a girl her age so comfortable and confident.

Back at the resort, as they climbed out of the minivan, she hugged him. "It's so great to spend time with someone so down-to-earth," she said.

"I could say the same to you," he agreed. "It was really fun. I was wondering if you might want to do a little singing later?"

Her eyes got round, and she stuttered out an affirmative. They settled on nine-thirty before Adam followed Chris back to their room.

"It's the WASP thing," Chris told Adam when he prompted him. Adam frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Music's visceral. You know that better than anyone else." This time Chris did roll his eyes as Adam grinned at him. "Yeah, you're hot. Congratulations. I'm saying she's missing some integral connection to the sexy part of the music. Go on, listen, and tell me I'm wrong."

Angela was waiting in the music room when Adam arrived a little before nine-thirty, riffling through a stack of music. She smiled gratefully at him.

"This is so amazing of you, I can't even tell you. I have no idea what I'm doing here, but I have lots of things I can sing." She offered him the stack, but he shook his head.

"You pick the music. If I know it, I'll sing along."

Adam listened carefully to the first couple of songs. Everything was technically very good, and Angela had lovely presence, but the something-missing persisted. She caught his expression as he watched, and she stopped in the middle of Beyoncé's I Surrender, planting her hands on the keyboard. There was a cacophonous jumble of sound.

Her shoulders rose and fell with her frustrated sigh. "I know what you're going to say. You don't have to say it."

"It's not working," Adam said apologetically.

She glared halfheartedly at him over the lid of the piano. "I told you you didn't have to."

"Hey, babe, I ain't gonna lie to you. It's good. You sound fantastic, you really do. It's just not –"

"I know." She peeked up through dark lashes. "It's not enough. Not for Idol."

Adam leaned forward on his elbows, resting his chin in the palm of his hand, and shrugged apologetically. "They see hundreds of candidates each season. Most of them have already exceeded awesome in their own communities. It's not even like it was when I was auditioning. Things are already different."

"So, what? I need a gimmick, or they won't notice me?" Angela gestured impatiently at herself. "Look at me."

"No, honey. You don't have a gimmicky bone in your body." Adam sighed. He reached a hand across the piano. Surprised, she took it. "Even if you did, I wouldn't bother trying. The judges'll see through anything that disingenuous. This has to be about you, about what moves you. Because you're kind of amazing."

She laughed, looking away, but kept hold of his hand. There was nothing fake about the light blush that tinged her cheeks pink.

"See, that!" he exclaimed. "That's what I'm talking about. You're freaking adorable. We just need to get you out there so the rest of the country can see it. The rest, it'll take care of itself." He pointed at her with his free hand. "This is reality TV. You have to wow them with reality."

"I hear you." Angela let her hands drop back to the keyboard as her smile faded to a wry grin. "And, pray tell, how am I supposed to do that?"

Adam watched Angela as she rolled her shoulders and crack her neck. "You know the answer. You're a musician. You understand what moves you, what digs into your heart and soul and makes you need to sing. I think you need to tap into that."

She nodded slowly. "All right."

"So." Adam tossed a hand at her. "What is it?"

"What's what?"

"What moves you?"

"Well, there's my faith," she replied immediately, but Adam held the hand up again, stopping her.

"That'll only take you so far with a national audience. You might be able to get away with a spiritual song once you're on the show, but you can't pull the religious card with these judges and expect to make it past round one."

She blew her bangs off her sweaty forehead, watching him with obvious irritation. "You asked me what moves me. I'm just telling you."

"More specific," he insisted. "People. Songs. Who makes you cry when you listen to them?"

"Everybody!"

Adam laughed, shaking his head. "I actually believe you. I saw you at Brave. All right, whose music is better than sex?"

Angela made a face. "How am I supposed to know that?"

He felt the laugh slip away. "You – really?"

"Preacher's daughter," she said, raising her eyebrows. "Remember the 'no sex before marriage' rule?"

"Whoa," he muttered. "I guess I thought… well, I figured you at least…" He felt his own cheeks flush. "Damn, girl. Sorry, blasphemer here."

Now she was laughing. "Adam, it's not like I'm cut off from the world and living in a convent. Christians are humans too."

"Okay," he said, trying to regain his momentum. "What about dancing? Ever go clubbing?"

"Sure," she agreed.

"Okay. Dancing. We can work with that. What music makes you – want to dance?"

He fetched two cups of water from the tap in the laundry room while she considered this. "I really like Jessie J," she said finally, accepting the cup he passed her. "She's kind of my personal idol."

"Huh." He tilted his head. "Do It Like A Dude?"

"Not that song," she amended. "Who's Laughing Now. Who You Are. The lyrics, they're inspirational, okay?"

"All right. That." He nodded again, feeling more sure. "So that's your homework. An hour, more, listening to Jessie J. Immerse yourself in what inspires you. Let yourself feel all of it. Then… write about it. Sing something." He tapped the lid of the piano. "We'll try again tomorrow."

Adam told Chris about it over breakfast the next morning. Chris wasn't impressed by the mention of Jessie J.

"I could go through her lyrics and list the number of overt similes she uses," he said, stirring his coffee. "I bet the list would exceed fifty in the course of that one album."

"Harsh," said Adam, smiling. "Okay, so not everybody's a poet, but you can't deny she's a musical powerhouse."

"Not the kind of music I would have expected Sister Christian to relate to, though. You know Jessie J's openly bi, right?"

"Yeah, and I'm a big queen. So what? Angela doesn't seem to have a problem with me." Adam stabbed his fork across the table at Chris. "You, on the other hand, appear to be a little on the intolerant side."

Chris gave him a complacent half-shrug. "I can't say I have a lot of love for Christians."

"Well, I think she's damn sweet. And I'd stake something on her chances for winning this season, if she can get her foot in the door."

"So what do you think it was that was missing?"

Adam took a bite of waffles and licked the fork thoughtfully. "I don't know, exactly? But it was like she was holding something back. I think I'm a pretty good judge of what makes or breaks somebody in this business. I think… if she can let go of whatever it was, she might have what it takes to make it. I just don't want her to miss out on that."

Chris signed his name to the bill and smiled at Adam fondly. "You're such a softie. Is Uncle Adam going to take her to Six Flags next?"

"No fucking way," Adam avowed. "I'm terrified of heights. Now help me finish these waffles."

"I did it," Angela said that afternoon when she met Adam in the practice room. She clutched the notebook to her chest like an anxious high school student. "I listened, and wrote it all down."

"It's not a test, you know," Adam assured her, hugging her with one arm around her shoulder, and felt her relax a little. She paced next to the piano as she spoke, her words tumbling out quick and disjointed.

"I couldn't stop thinking about what you said. And I think you're right. I've been coming at this the wrong way. I mean, yes, it's about practice, and I've done that, and it's about talent, and stage presence and relatability." She fluttered her hands by her ear. "That's not what I'm missing. But there's something."

"Preach," Adam murmured, but Angela wasn't done. She handed Adam the notebook and locked her hands behind her head as she walked.

"I think it's always been that way. The other kids had the, you know, the sex appeal? And I wasn't going to compete with that. I wasn't even going to try. I always assumed I could make up for whatever I wasn't going to do with other things." She paused, dropping her hands, looking a little lost. "But… I don't know. Maybe I can't."

He sat and patted the space next to himself on the worn couch. "It's okay, hon. Show me what you have."

Angela flopped down beside him as Adam opened the cover of her notebook. "I put my headphones on, and shut myself in my room, and turned off the lights, and… it was intense, you know? Listening like that. I heard things I hadn't noticed before. Instrumental lines, lyrics, they jumped out at me. I wrote down some of them."

She tilted the page toward him so he could read her neat, round print beside several scrawled bars of music. In the blink of an eye I was falling from the sky. Don't lose who you are in the blur of the stars. In my spaceship I'm an alien tonight.

Adam pointed at the last one, keeping his smile light. "If I'm not mistaken, that's the one you told me you didn't care for. Do It Like A Dude."

"I know, right? But that's the thing. Listening to it like that... it was different."

He nodded, watching her face. "Different how?"

"Like… I didn't have to judge it by the curse words?" She wrinkled her nose. "That song, I must have heard it a dozen times on the radio, more. But I didn't really think about the kind of risk she was taking, writing about stuff like that. It wasn't about what I thought it was."

Adam raised an eyebrow. "What did you think it was about?"

Angela chuckled, her cheeks going pink. "Well... maybe it was about what I thought it was, a little. But she's kind of pushing back, too, isn't she? Against the boys who say, I can treat girls like trash because they're girls."

"Maybe. It's a pretty hardcore song." Adam shrugged. "I'm not saying you have to like it."

"No, I'm saying I did. I do. I felt..." Her blush intensified. "I don't know. I felt something, listening to it. I don't think I could sing that in front of the Idol judges, though."

He grinned. "No, I don't think you have to sing that one in front of anyone. Alone, maybe."

"Maybe. Anyway." She turned the page. "I guess it's not about what I felt so much as what I did with it. I worked up my own version of Who You Are. I think I want to use that as my audition piece."

"No." Adam shook his head. "I like tht song, but it's way too mellow. You need something with some energy, that'll catch their attention."

Angela worried her lip with her teeth. "Well... there's Abracadabra. Oh, or Mamma Knows Best."

"Yes, either of those." Adam made a throwaway gesture. "You keep listening until you know that album inside and out. But you know, once you've made it on, you'll have to have something else to sing. It can't all be Jessie J."

Angela was laughing, shaking her head, and relaxed back into the curve of Adam's arm, her eyes sparkling. "It's like you think I'm a sure thing!"

"You are," he said seriously. "Girl, you got something going on. Those judges will see it. After that, you just be your amazing self, and sing your heart out, and... yeah. You're a sure thing."

She threw her arms around him, and he hugged her tight. "Thank you," she whispered. "I can't tell you how much this means to me."

"You're the one doing all the work." He picked up her notebook. "I'll tell you, you hang on to this kind of inspiration, you can do anything."

Adam saw Angela once more, early Sunday afternoon in the lobby as he and Chris were checking out heading for Logan International. She was still dressed for church, but she hugged him anyway.

"Did you have a good vacation?" she wanted to know.

"Absolutely. You made it even better. You'll stay in touch, right? When you come to LA for the audition, let me know. I want to take you out for lunch."

She was breathless as he handed her a card with a phone number on it, and she nodded, smiling. "Definitely. Thank you so much, for everything."

Adam was pensive in the taxi. Chris must have noticed, because he stayed silent nearly until they hit the harbor. He rested a hand on Adam's knee. "Did you figure out what was missing?"

"I thought I had."

Chris watched him curiously. "But?"

Adam shook his head. "But nothing. I don't know. It's just a feeling."

"Well, you can't leave me like that. You know I'll pester you until you tell me."

He sighed, and found himself laughing. "You're going to think I'm making things up. But listening to her talk about Jessie J's music... I think I know why she's dealt so well with being sexually disconnected from her music."

"Why?"

"I think she's gay."

Chris snorted. "Yeah, I am going to think you're making things up. You know nobody gets to tell her that except herself."

"Maybe she didn't consider it," Adam said slowly. "I still don't think she is. But if I see it, who knows what might come up eventually for her?" He watched the skyline of Boston race by outside his window. "Whatever. I hope she makes it."

Believe in yourself. Believe you can accomplish anything you put your mind to. - Jessie J