Adult-FanFiction.org : Celebrity

Equivalent	By : Gomey Category: Reality TV > American Idol/Pop Idol Views: 3344 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the people I am writing about in this fanfiction. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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DISCLAIMER: I am merely borrowing names and circumstances for my own devilish pleasure. No personal gain (save for satisfaction and expression of desires) is being made from this. All known characters and premises belong to their respective owners. So there.
NOTES: I’m feeling angsty. Some moments are OOC, just to let you know. I forgot the episode number, but this is a spin on the episode where Ryan throws water at Simon.

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“Great song. It’s been very difficult for us to...to put into words the problem with you, Lindsey.” Simon looked back at her, gathering his thoughts. “Um, let me try.” He looked back down at the table, daring to cross a line. “You are the musical equivalent of Ryan Seacrest.” He paused slightly, taking in the shocked outbursts of the audience, not even bothering to offer the host a view. “In so much as, you look the part - you do everything right, and yet you’re disappointed with the performance.”

“What?!” Randy interjected, glancing over at Ryan’s ire-filled gaze directed at the cheeky Brit.

Ryan smiled sharply, feeling the camera’s eye focussed on him, all to save his dignity.

“Ryan, come out here - ”

“ - and that’s the only way I can describe it, there’s something missing.” Simon interrupted Randy, sticking to his original summary of the American Idol host.

Paula shook her head, glancing down at the table, utterly surprised at how far Simon had pushed the envelop this time.

“Ryan, come on. Ryan! Ryan!” Randy started chanting, wanting his friend to stick up for himself.

Ryan smiled and stood up, hopping up on to the judge’s platform. He reached for Simon’s cup who anticipated his movement and snatched it from his grasp. Ryan quickly grabbed Paula’s glass and tossed the water to cool in Simon’s direction, watching him arch his back to avoid the liquid, but still getting hit none the less. The crowd went wild, cheering for Ryan.

Paula, elbow on the table, head resting in her hand, sighed aloud, upset at the scene playing out.

The theme song gave Ryan his cue to hop up on stage and he gave the instructions on how to vote for Lindsey Cardinale, offering her support saying that it was a vote for him at the same time. He glanced back at the grinning Brit, which only made him even more furious. “Yes, like it’s the first time his pants have gotten wet.” Ryan quipped, his humour attacking Simon.

They went to commercial break and Simon stood up, arms folded across his chest defiantly, waiting for Ryan to make the next move.

Ryan casually stepped off stage, stepping up face-to-face with Simon. The two men stared each other down for a good minute before any of them spoke.

“That was quite a reaction you had there, Seacrest.” Simon grinned. “What, first time you actually got my joke?” He suddenly felt himself being pulled back, and he glanced to his side to see Paula roughly jerking his arm away.

“Back off Simon!” She growled at him, fed up with his cocky attitude.

“Surprise, surprise...” He turned back to face the American Idol host, speaking over Paula’s head. “Y’know, what would you do without her, huh? Have to fight your own battles then...”

“Simon, just knock it off, okay? Does it make you feel big by putting him down all the time?” She slapped his arm hard, trying to control her emotions.

He sat back in his chair, leaning back at stretching his legs out. “I don’t need to feel big,” his hand fell to his lap, blatantly displaying his manhood, “I already am.”

She rolled her eyes, glaring at him. “Must everything be turned into a sexual conversation?!”

He leaned in, “I’m only feeding your desires.”

She shivered as his breath hit her skin, but brushed off the feeling as a moment of weakness. “Oh right.” She stood up, looking at the audience who were all sitting uncomfortably amidst the row. “How about this...” She pointed at her fellow judge. “Simon Cowell is the equivalent of a bad lay - you’re still getting some, but you’re screaming someone else’s name.”

The room went silent, save for one or two ‘hoots’ from the audience. Randy glanced at Paula who was staring at Simon who was looking at the screen on the table.

Simon nodded, a smile defying his actual emotions. He wasn’t affected by -what- was said, it was -who- said it that really crushed his heart.

Ryan, eyes wide, looked at Paula. “I think you hurt his feelings.”

She leaned in closer, looking into his eyes.

Simon met her gaze defiantly, unwilling to relent in front of the camera.

“Well America - there you have it: Simon Cowell has feelings!” She yelled out, spreading her arms wide open. Her grin suddenly faded, upon witnessing a dimness in his eyes. Her heart tightened immediately. For the first time since having met Simon Cowell, she saw something she never thought possible, reflected in his eyes: sadness.

He blinked, his eyes burning. Again, it had been the -who- not the -what-. His personal demons chipped away confidence, letting abysmal thoughts seep into his mind. “Nigel...let’s go, then.” He called out to his long-time friend.

The music started and the next contestant came on stage. Mikalah Gordon was still shaken up from having just witnessed the spat between judges, and was slightly apprehensive about going on stage. She could feel the tension in the room, and what scared her the most was the blank stare that had replaced the ever critical glint in Simon’s eyes.

Her voice was shaky, and she succumbed to the ill feelings through-out the rest of the song. As soon as she finished, she took a step back, rather than front, holding the Mic. behind her back.

Randy shook his head. “What happened there, Mikalah - no energy, no fun? Dawg, that was your worst to date.” He nudged Paula who had been looking at Simon throughout the whole song.

“Mikalah...” She shrugged, “I don’t think I need to say more.”

The young girl nodded, her eyes resting on the floor, unable to look at Simon.

Silence.

“Simon?” Mikalah’s normally bold voice was replaced by a shy squeak.

He finally looked up, assessing the girl. “Probably the best you ever done, and if my calculations are correct, we’ll be seeing you at the finale.”

“What?!” Randy bellowed, over-powering Paula’s mimicked exclamation.

“What the hell are you on, Cowell?!” Randy questioned him, “even Mikalah knows that was just bad.”

“Well, I thought I might as well join the majority - it seems that bull-shitting is the new style on this God-forsaken show.” He got up roughly, pushing his chair out of the way, not even cringing when it fell off the level.

“Simon,” Ryan called out after him, smiling - though uneasily - for the camera, “the show’s not done.”

“Well I am.” Came his simple reply, soft but still sharp; a daggered word heading straight for the one who had hurt him the most.

–TBC–
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