Running Up That Hill (Shakira & Adam Levine / Shadam)

Forgive Me Father for I Have Sinned

*So, apparently, Shakira lives with her boyfriend in Esplugues de Llobregat, Barcelona. Yeah, well, that's one big fucking problem for me. How is Shadam supposed to happen at all? Yep, so I'm having them live in Miami, Florida, instead . . . since she has a house there and all (and by the way, it's one nice house, god damn). It's easier for Adam to show up in Miami than fucking Barcelona.

Adam Levine hadn't slept last night. He had forced his eyes open, even when they fought against him.

The dreams - no, nightmares - were getting worst. They all had the same images, but what started out as faded became more and more real as each night passed.

Basically, they - he and she - would talk, but it was different; he swore their language came out of a textbook. It wasn't normal, the way they talked and that made the whole thing more fake and more . . .  meaningful? Adam would look at her as she outlined the pitch dark blackness that filled the entire room and ask her these questons that he kept close to his heart and she would remain silent, that is, until the very end when she replies with another question in an emotionless tone with lifeless eyes . . . and he would wake up with chills.

Word is that Shakira is coming back from her stay at Brazil. During the time span that she was gone, Adam cracked down on research, from her family, history, boyfriend to her favorite anything. There was no doubt about it: Adam was obsessed.

That could also be the reason why he decided to sit outside her front door . . . which was located across the country from his house. News were already out that he was in Miami . . . but he had a nice cover story for the whole reason. Thank goodness Maroon 5 knew when to question his intentions and when to dismiss them.

Adam looked up as his ears quirked at the sound of a car coming to a halt and its engine stopping completely. Adam stood up to welcome Shakira back home. His heart picked up pace just a little as one car door opened . . . to reveal a tall man - maybe a few inches taller than himself - with light eyes and facial hair that clouded the lower half of his face.

Gerard Pique.

Adam expected a little bit more from the man that was Shakira's "boyfriend." Adam noted that "boyfriend" was too far of a stretch to describe him . . . maybe her "little-more-than-a-friend friend;" Adam liked that title much better for Gerard Pique.

Sure, the man's handsome and strong and he looked nice enough, but as Gerard pulled his "little-more-than-a-friend friend" out of the car, Adam couldn't help but feel this immediate dislike for the man.

Shakira was the first to spot him with eyebrows rising to the top of her forehead and eyes widing in . . . fear? Adam smiled as he gave her a small wave. Inside, he was dying to run to her and give her the hug of a lifetime, but he held himself back.

Gerard glanced at Adam as he rolled luggage up the walkway. Adam straightened as Gerard looked at him sideways and greeted him with a curt nod to which Adam returned with confidence. Gerard yelled something to Shakira in Spanish and Adam wished he had spent some of his time away from Shakira to learn a bit of Spanish.

Shakira was up the walkway as Gerard entered the house. She carried a sleeping Milan in her arms and walked slowly. Adam counted each click of heel that sounded as she walked.

"Hi Adam," she said quietly and with that small smile that always gets to him.

"Hi," Adam scratched the back of his head as his brain racked itself to figure out something charming or nice or something to say.

"I'm glad to see that you and my boyfriend -"

Adam flinched at that word.

"- are still great friends." She looked up at him with sad eyes and lips barely quirked as she tried to distribute a joke.