the elephant is in the pyjamas of the lyrical I (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} battleofhydaspe) wrote,@ 2009-06-16 15:42:00 |
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I DON'T EVEN KNOW, OKAY. /o\
everything all the time
Kris/Adam || 4500 words || PG-13
Many thanks towordsalone for the beta. You and your blue font are awesome. ♥
“I’d totally hit that,” Kris laughs. He shifts and sinks lower on the bed; the flowery bedspread bunches up under his thigh so he kicks at it, trying to straighten it up. The laptop wobbles precariously on his stomach.
“You’d hit what?” Adam asks, kneeling on the mattress to peer on the screen. He bursts out laughing. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
A few stray droplets fall from his hair as he shakes his head. Kris bats at him inefectually. “Go away. And I’m totally serious, man. You’ve got great legs.”
Adam sits at the edge of his own bed, towelling his hair. He grins. “It’s the fishnet that does the trick.”
“Those shoes are pretty sweet, too. Did you actually manage to walk in them?”
“Yeah, like a couple steps,” Adam laughs. “Mostly I just stood around looking all sexy and shit.”
“I’m totally saving this.”
“You’re getting just a tad creepy, Allen. Just so you know.”
“Hey, I wasn’t the one who put those on the Internet.”
Adam sighs. “Wish I could say it wasn’t me either.”
Kris laughs, clicks another link. “Your face looked kind of horrible, though,” he says absently, clicking through another batch of pictures. Then, “Wow.”
“What? Dude, are you stalking me?”
“I totally am. Is that Brad?”
Adam sighs. “I could probably go out on a limb here and say yes but how about you show me what exactly you’re looking at?” Then, after Kris angles the laptop so that Adam can see the screen, “Yeah, this is Brad.”
“Burdens of fame, huh?” Kris asks, lips quirked to the side just a little.
“Oh, fuck you,” Adam says with a lopsided smile. Kris grins at him. Adam rolls his eyes.
“Seriously, though,” Kris says after a moment of clicking through some more pictures, “Does it bother you? That this is all over the Internet now?”
“Not really, no.” Adam leans back on his elbows and rubs his foot over the back of his calf. “I mean. I never really had a chance of winning this thing in the first place. I’m not here to win anyway so, no problem.”
Kris hums.
“Maybe I’m going to regret this in like, twenty years but right now? I really just don’t care.”
“Those are pretty hot, though,” Kris says, waggling his eyebrows. He looks ridiculous.
Adam laughs. “You are so weird.”
--
“Oh, chips! Sweet.” Matt twists around to catch the bag Adam tosses his way. He’s got his legs hooked over the armrest and he’s two seconds from falling to the floor. “Thanks, man.”
“Welcome,” Adam says, settling between Danny and Kris on the couch. “You can pay me up by being my coffee bitch tomorrow.”
“Yeah, no, I don’t think so,” Matt grins and puts a handful of chips into his mouth.
“So ungrateful,” Adam says. He nudges Kris’ shoulder. “What are we watching?”
Kris blinks at him sleepily. “Honestly? No clue. You just woke me up.”
“Rainmaker,” Allison says. She’s curled in the other armchair, wrapped in an afghan from head to toe. She seems just a tiny bit more awake than Kris.
“Oh, so much action,” Adam mutters, making himself comfortable and opening his bag of Doritos. “Anyone?”
Danny bails out towards the end of the movie. The second he gets up, Kris crawls over Adam to take up the vacated space. He sprawls, tucking his feet under Adam’s thigh.
“You do realize you’re pretty much feeling up a gay dude, right?” Adam quirks an eyebrow at him.
Matt cackles from across the room.
“Mm,” Kris mutters, stretching his hands over his head with a blissful smile. He looks about ten seconds from falling asleep again.
“Kris, man.” Adam drums him fingers on Kris’ calf. “Maybe you should just go to bed instead?”
Kris smiles with his eyes closed. “I’m good.”
“Okay,” Adam concedes. “Hey, Alli, can I have my chips back?”
--
The house is eerily quiet when it’s just the two of them. Kris’ voice echoes off the walls when he sits at the top of the stairs with his phone cradled against his shoulder. There’s no noise to cover it up.
Adam’s bare feet don’t really make any noise either. Still, Kris turns to face him just as Adam is passing by, hand curling right above Adam’s knee and squeezing, hey.
“Hi,” Adam says with a smile. Kris looks like a kid, looking up at him.
“I know,” Kris says into his phone, then frowns, “Yeah, yeah. I get that.”
Adam taps Kris’ shoulder lightly and Kris lets go of his leg. Adam laughs. Kris clips him in the calf.
“I’m gonna be downstairs,” Adam says, pointing towards the floor. Kris gives him a distracted smile and a nod, then frowns again. “I know. Can we change the subject?”
Adam puts his earbuds in and walks down the stairs with Jeff Buckley crooning, All full of wine the world before her, was sober with no place to go, in his ear. He kind of feels like getting drunk on cheap wine and chainsmoking a pack of cigarettes. It’s still a couple more days before he can do that.
--
The apartment smells of stale air and a little bit like Kara’s perfume. It’s weird, unfamiliar.
The table in the kitchen is pushed against the wall, and there are a few misplaced items in the living room. It irks Adam out a little but hey, it’s not that high of a price for having someone else cover his rent for a while.
He doesn’t bother with a shower, just strips down to his underwear and faceplants onto the bed. The sheets are fresh and crispy, and apparently ironed – something Adam himself never bothers to do. It’s actually pretty nice.
He sleeps for sixteen hours straight, and then wakes up only because one of his neighbors starts playing Lionel Richie at a volume that could shatter glass.
“Home, sweet home,” Adam mutters to himself, rolling off the bed. He wants a cup of coffee and a giant plate of cheese ravioli. He’s pretty sure neither is attainable.
--
There’s an electricity outage the third day Adam’s home so he spends four hours listening to music on his iPod. He carefully skips the folder with the Idol recordings.
--
Adam tosses the keys on the table and misses by a mile. It falls to the floor with a loud clatter that makes Adam cringe before he remembers he doesn’t have to be quiet.
He takes off his shoes, leaves his jacket on the hook by the front door. The apartment is dark but Adam doesn’t switch any lights on, just trails his fingers along the wall when he walks to the bedroom, just in case. He takes his wallet and his cell out of the pockets of his pants – back and side one, respectively – and puts it on the nightstand.
He leaves the rest of his clothes in a pile on the bathroom floor and brushes his teeth standing naked in front of the mirror.
The sheets are cool against his skin and Adam just lies there for a minute or two, enjoying it, then reaches for his phone. There’s one missed call from Neil and a message from Kris that says, hulk hogan on tv market.
wtf, Adam types away. The pads of his fingers feel kind of numb.
The phone buzzes in his hand a few seconds later. Adam hits the ‘accept’ button.
“Some work-out machine. He’s got me convinced I’ve got to work on my abs a little. Well, okay. A lot,” Kris says.
“How much is it?”
“$59,99, and I’ll get a fruit peeler if I order now. It’s a pretty sweet fruit peeler, I gotta say.”
Adam scratches his stomach. “Seems like a good deal to me.”
“I’m tempted. Did I wake you up?”
“Nah, I just got home. It’s all fine.”
“You sound a little off, is all. I thought I woke you up or something.”
“No, no,” Adam says, then laughs a little. “I took some acid earlier, I’m still kinda tripping a little. That’s probably it.”
It’s kind of cold so Adam pulls the cover up a little, until it brushes his collarbones. “Why aren’t you asleep?”
In the kitchen, freon kicks in with a loud whoosh. A car passes by, music blasting.
“Couldn’t. Too much coffee.”
Adam runs his hand down his chest. His skin is warm and yields under the press of his fingers easily. He’s kind of horny. He toys with the waistband of his pajama pants and thinks about making Kris talk about something, whatever, just long enough to wrap his fingers around his dick and jerk off. It doesn’t seem fair, though. He says, “You should stay at my place. When we go in the studio, I mean.”
“Hm,” Kris says.
“I’ve got a sweet-ass pull-out couch.”
“Are you sure you want me in your face for another couple of weeks?”
“Yeah, I think I can deal. Plus, you know,” Adam laughs, “I wanna take you to a gay bar, gay bar.”
“I wanna spend all your money, at a gay bar, gay bar,” Kris hums without missing a beat. “We need whip cracks in the background, though.”
Adam looks at the ceiling, at the shadows and the light creeping up the far end. It’s all bright, vivid. He says, “I’m pretty sure I had a whip somewhere in here.”
Kris laughs. “Now that’s an invitation I’ve been wanting to hear, Lambert!”
“You’ve got it,” Adam says, rolling onto his side. His muscles ache a little already. It feels good. “Seriously though. Think about it, okay? Think about it and let me know.”
“I will.”
“Okay, good. I’m gonna crash now, okay? I’m beat.”
“Yeah, go ahead. I’ll get back to you about this.”
“You do that. ‘Night, Kris.”
“Yeah, man. Sleep tight.”
Adam leaves the phone on the pillow, then rolls to the other side of the bed. The patch of light has crept to the center of the ceiling, blue and bright. It’s full moon. Adam thinks about werewolves. He laughs to himself.
--
Funny thing is, Kris doesn’t seem too uncomfortable with the way the guy’s draped over the table, right in Kris’ face in all his sparkly glory. It’s the type of guy Adam would go for, a little over the top and very blatant about what he wants.
There’s no doubt what he wants now, hands splayed over the tabletop, fingers framing Kris’ empty glass as he says something. Adam entertains the idea of giving them some more time, seeing how the situation resolves itself. He’s a little curious as to how Kris would handle this, if he’d lead the guy on, teasing him without actually meaning to, or if he’d finally tell him to just fuck off. It doesn’t seem very likely, though.
“Hey.” Adam slides into the booth next to Kris, depositing two glasses of Screwdriver on the table. Kris looks up with a lopsided smile and Adam fights the urge to laugh. “Hi,” he says, “I’m Adam.”
The guy gives him a once over and it’s a little flattering; would be more under different circumstances. “Hi, Adam.”
Adam cups his hand around the back of Kris’ neck and pulls him in to say right into his ear, “Am I interrupting?” He’s putting up a show here, lingering those two extra seconds and letting his lips brush Kris’ cheek. He’s good at this, he knows. He enjoys doing it.
They guy holds up his hands as if to say, hey, I didn’t know before slinking away, hips swaying ever so slightly. Adam can’t help but look after him for a second. He’s interupted when Kris starts laughing; they’re pressed close enough that he can feel it.
Adam grins. “Rites of passage, Allen. There’s no escaping it.”
“Yeah, I noticed.”
“C’mon, drink up and we’ll get going. I think it’s enough for one night.”
There’s a taxi rank just two blocks over, and they walk. It’s still pretty warm but the rising wind blows over Adam’s sweaty hair in a way that isn’t entirely pleasant.
Kris bumps his shoulder into Adam’s. “You totally just cock-blocked me out there, didn’t you?”
Adam laughs. “You’re so out of your depth here.”
Kris laughs, too, looking up at the sky. “I know.”
“Come on,” Adam says, pulling him into one of the waiting cars. The ride is relatively short, traffic pretty tame at this hour. Adam sinks low in the seat, knees falling apart. He can smell the smoke lingering on the fabric of his jacket, stale and kind of gross. He sighs, tipping his head back. “I call first shower.”
Kris lolls his head sideways to look at him. His smile is slow and open and fucking everything Adam wants to see every single fucking day for the rest of his fucking life.
“Like hell you do,” Kris says.
--
“I honestly thought Mike was going to flip his shit,” Kris says, laughter audible in his voice. Adam can see his bare feet in the bathroom mirror.
He runs a towel over his face, then slings it over the edge of the tub. He’s barely upright and his eyes threaten to close any second. Recording an album is definitely not as awesome as it’s cracked up to be. Fucking hell.
Adam pads to the bedroom and crawls under the covers. Or more like, the part Kris isn’t lying on.
“Don’t pass out on me, man,” Kris says, rolling onto his side. His face is inches away from Adam’s when Adam makes the effort of opening his eyes. One eye. “You can sleep here. You can even take the pillow, I don’t care. Just stop talking,” he mumbles, letting his eyes fall shut again. He feels like someone dropped a ton of rocks on him.
There’s a second, two, of silence, filled with their breathing and a distant wailing of a police siren, then Kris says, voice hushed like he thinks Adam might be asleep already, “’Kay. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Not if I see you first,” Adam mumbles with a smile that barely lifts the cornes of his mouth. He falls asleep to Kris’ fingers splayed warmly in the crook of his elbow.
--
Adam goes out with a bunch of friends and gets drunk. They stop by to get coffee on their way to the Owl, and by the time Adam gets off at his station he’s tipsy instead of shitfaced. He walks the rest of the way. He wonders if Kris is awake. He feels a little bad for leaving him alone but he had asked Kris to come along and Kris had said no.
He gets the key in the lock in the third try. The lightbulb above his head flickers ominously and Adam feels like that character from a horror movie, the one that dies first. It’s not that bad a part, actually. The first and the last victim always get the most screen time compared to those in between. It’s pretty okay.
The apartment welcomes him with the soft murmur of the TV and a patch of light spilling out from the open bathroom door. Adam toes off his shoes and throws his jacket over the back of the couch. Kris is probably going to bitch at him about it, maybe push it to the floor before he goes to sleep and leave it like that. It wouldn’t be unprecedented.
Kris is in the bathroom, brushing his teeth. Adam leans against the doorframe. “Hey.”
Kris gives him a smile over his toothbrush and a mouthful of foam, holds up his hand. Adam stands there watching him when he goes over his task methodically – front, back, up and down, in circles.
“Why aren’t you asleep?” he asks. He’s not precisely sure what time it is, but it feels like it’s late.
Kris spits out the toothpaste and rinses. “Got restless, I guess,” he says, wiping his mouth with the corner of his towel. “Then some action flick came on and I just kinda started watching it, and then the credits started rolling. You know how it goes.”
“You should’ve come with me. It was fun.”
“It’s okay. I got some work done. Finished that one song I was telling you about.”
“Oh, good. Great,” Adam says, then laughs. “I’m a little surprised Mrs. Henley didn’t call the cops on you, though.”
“There was some banging on the wall,” Kris admits. “Minor.”
Kris’ got a bruise right above his elbow from where Adam grabbed him a few days ago, right before some soccer mom nearly ran him over in the Walmart parking lot. It flickers in the mirror, purple with a tint of yellow, when Kris moves.
It’s exactly three and a half steps from the sink to the door, Adam counted it once. It’s easy to reach out and wrap his fingers around Kris’ wrist, somewhere between his second and third step. There’s cheerful music coming from the living room, some overly chipper voice. Laundry detergent commercial, Adam thinks distantly.
He strokes his thumb over the side of Kris’ neck, down, until it rests in the dip of his collarbone. Kris isn’t pulling away. He looks up at Adam and blinks once, twice.
Adam’s head feels like it’s filled with cotton when he leans down to kiss him. Kris’ lips are dry in the way they always are right after you brush your teeth, smooth when Adam touches his tongue to the corner of Kris’ mouth.
The doorframe is digging into his back so Adam shifts until it fits into the dip of his spine, pulls Kris with him. Kris’ tongue tastes like Adam’s toothpaste, mint and lemon. He smells clean and warm. It doesn’t seem fair, because Adam smells like cigarette smoke and sweat, and there’s a sour aftertaste on his tongue from the coffee. Kris isn’t pulling away.
Adam’s entire body is buzzing. He wonders if Kris can feel it when he touches Adam’s back, fingers splayed just under his shoulderblades. Suddenly, Adam wants to touch skin, too. He runs his hands down Kris’ back and up, sliding them under his t-shirt, bunching it up as he goes up again until the tips of his fingers rest at the top of Kris’ spine. It pulls Kris a little closer so Adam bends his left knee to accommodate him. He moves his hands a few inches, feels the short hairs at the nape of Kris’ neck. It’s been a long time since Adam had his hair this short. Kris sighs against his mouth, runs his knuckles over the bumps of Adam’s spine and Adam bows off the doorframe on a groan he’s too drunk and turned on to think about muffling.
Two seconds later and there’s a load bang on the wall. Then another, and another. Thud, thudthudthud.
They break apart, and look at each other. Then Kris cracks up. “Seriously.”
Adam frowns. He kinds of hates Mrs. Henley’s guts right now. “Okay, that was totally uncalled for.”
“Apparently, she’s had enough for the day,” Kris says. He’s not laughing anymore, just smiling with the corner of his mouth. He licks his lips and it’s kind of self-conscious all of a sudden. Adam looks away.
“I’m,” he starts but doesn’t know what to say next. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Shit. I’m sorry.”
Kris opens his mouth like he wants to say something, then closes it. Finally, he says, “It’s okay.”
It felt okay, it felt fucking amazing, but right now Adam isn’t so sure it is okay. He’s still pretty drunk and a hell lot of confused right now. “I’m gonna crash. I’m kind of. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Kris looks at him for a long minute before finally moving out of Adam’s way. He sighs. “Sleep tight.”
Adam undresses, leaving his clothes in a messy pile in the middle of the room, then sits at the edge of the bed. He rubs at his eyes; they sting a little from the eyeliner. He thinks, fuck this.
--
“Where are you?” Adam needs to blink a couple of times before he wakes up enough to actually process what Kris is saying. “Adam?”
“Yeah,” Adam mutters, “I’m here.”
“It’s half past ten. Are you going in later today or something?”
And that’s when it clicks. “Fuck.”
Kris laughs. “I woke you up, didn’t I?”
“Dude, it’s not funny.” Adam scrambles out of bed. He’s already late by half an hour. He’s screwed.
“Okay, then. I’m gonna hang up now that you’re awake and all.”
Adam has no memory of waking up and switching the alarm off. He would have overslept by a lot more had Kris not called him. “Hey, Kris? Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. See ya.”
Adam calls the studio between gathering his clothes and hopping into the shower. He doesn’t bother making up excuses, just tells Andy he’ll be over in an hour. It’s probably a huge bout of optimism on his part but Andy just grumbles, “Yeah, yeah. Get your ass over here,” and hangs up. He reminds Adam of his dad a lot.
--
“Let’s. Fuck, I don’t know. Let’s take a break,” Morgan says, rubbing at his left eye. Adam hears him over the speaker and sees him talk through the glass but it feels like those are two things happening separately.
Adam takes off his headphones and stretches, going onto his tiptoes. His bones crack.
The coffee from the machine outside is pretty terrible but it’s the only one available. Adam gets a cup with double milk and double sugar and walks down the hallway to take his usual spot. There’s a window at the end, with the last hints of light coming through it. Adam thinks, What would Mulder do? then laughs to himself.
He perches on the windowsill and drinks his coffee methodically. There’s a dull thudding at the back of his skull, it’s really annoying.
He’s in the middle of texting his mom when Kris tumbles out the door at Adam’s left.
“Hi,” Kris says with a deep sigh. He sounds tired. Frustrated.
“What’s wrong?” Adam asks, cradling the phone between his palms for a second before slipping it into the pocket of his jeans.
“Fuck, it’s. I don’t even know, man. They’re driving me crazy, I’m driving them crazy and I’m so ready for this day to be over.”
Adam laughs and reaches to pull him into a side hug. Kris groans and tucks his face into the crook of Adam’s neck. He mutters, “So ready.”
“You can have some of my shitty coffee, if you want.”
“I’ll pass, thank you.”
Adam laughs and, when Kris pulls back, digs his fingers into the tight knot of muscle in his shoulder. Kris groans, tips his head forward. “Keep doing that.”
“I can give you a proper massage when we get home. I’m pretty sure I even have some massage oils left.”
“The Lambert Spa, huh?” Kris glances over at him with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Mani-pedi at a twenty percent discount,” Adam says before he squeezes Kris’ shoulder one last time and lets go. “I’m gonna head back inside. Hopefuly they’ve figured out what they want me to do by now.”
“Okay,” Kris says, rolling his shoulders. “I’ll see you downstairs.”
--
“Hey,” Kris says, standing in the doorway. He hits the lull between two songs and it’s the only reason Adam actually hears him.
He takes the earbuds out. “What’s up?”
“Nothing much. Just bored.”
“C’mere.” Adam pats the bed beside him and scoots to make more space. Kris crawls on the bed knee-hand-knee, like a kid. Or a cat, Adam can’t decide.
“What are you listening to?”
“Bowie.” Adam is tired of listening to his own voice, on repeat all day long, with reverb, with pitch, with echo, through a vocoder, whatever-the-fuck. He’s tired.
Kris grabs one of the earbuds and curls on his side next to Adam. He grins. “It’s like a junior high field trip. Sweet.”
Adam grins back, taps out the rhythm on his own stomach. There’s a patch of light slanting across the opposite wall, separating it in half. The line flickers and blurs when the voltage jumps minutely. Adam stills his hand, splays his fingers wide, feeling the heat of his own skin seep through the fabric. He kind of wants to touch Kris’ neck.
Kris’ eyes flick up and he catches Adam looking. Adam doesn’t bother looking away.
Kris says, “Are you thinking about kissing me?”
Adam doesn’t see the reason to lie. “Yeah.”
Kris doesn’t hesitate when he says. “Then do it.”
I see you see me through your window, David Bowie sings into Adam’s right ear. The earbud falls out when Adam shifts to lean on his elbow. He looks at Kris. Kris looks back at him. It’s the weirdest five seconds of Adam’s life.
Kris’ eyes fall shut when Adam touches his neck, with just his fingertips. Adam is very, very careful not to jostle the cord when he slides his hand under it to curl around the back of Kris’ neck. He wonders what verse Kris is on.
Adam hovers. He counts out the beat like they taught him when he got his first part in a musical that required actual dancing; one-and-two-and --
Kris breathes out against his lips when Adam leans down, and fucks the rhythm all to hell. Adam’s laughing, just a little, when he kisses him.
--
“Food’s here!” Adam announces, balancing four take-out boxes and trying to close the door with his foot. “Ha.”
He hands Kris two of the boxes, puts his own on the coffee table and goes to get the beer from the fridge.
“I feel like an exemplary wife here. What’s up with that?” he says, flopping onto the couch next to Kris and tearing the chopsticks wrapper with his teeth.
“I don’t know, but it’s nice.” Kris grins, kicking his feet up on the table and digging in.
Adam sighs dramatically. “The shit I go through for you, Allen.”
They eat in silence, watching Mel Gibson dislocate his shoulder on a wall. The light coming from the screen is pretty dim and Adam’s having a hard time fishing out the bits of chicken from his box.
“You’re not my bi-curious phase. Thing. Whatever,” Kris says suddenly. Adam looks over at him but Kris is looking at the screen. Adam says, “Okay.”
“Okay. Pass me the beer?”
Kris/Adam || 4500 words || PG-13
Many thanks to
wordsalone for the beta. You and your blue font are awesome. ♥“I’d totally hit that,” Kris laughs. He shifts and sinks lower on the bed; the flowery bedspread bunches up under his thigh so he kicks at it, trying to straighten it up. The laptop wobbles precariously on his stomach.
“You’d hit what?” Adam asks, kneeling on the mattress to peer on the screen. He bursts out laughing. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
A few stray droplets fall from his hair as he shakes his head. Kris bats at him inefectually. “Go away. And I’m totally serious, man. You’ve got great legs.”
Adam sits at the edge of his own bed, towelling his hair. He grins. “It’s the fishnet that does the trick.”
“Those shoes are pretty sweet, too. Did you actually manage to walk in them?”
“Yeah, like a couple steps,” Adam laughs. “Mostly I just stood around looking all sexy and shit.”
“I’m totally saving this.”
“You’re getting just a tad creepy, Allen. Just so you know.”
“Hey, I wasn’t the one who put those on the Internet.”
Adam sighs. “Wish I could say it wasn’t me either.”
Kris laughs, clicks another link. “Your face looked kind of horrible, though,” he says absently, clicking through another batch of pictures. Then, “Wow.”
“What? Dude, are you stalking me?”
“I totally am. Is that Brad?”
Adam sighs. “I could probably go out on a limb here and say yes but how about you show me what exactly you’re looking at?” Then, after Kris angles the laptop so that Adam can see the screen, “Yeah, this is Brad.”
“Burdens of fame, huh?” Kris asks, lips quirked to the side just a little.
“Oh, fuck you,” Adam says with a lopsided smile. Kris grins at him. Adam rolls his eyes.
“Seriously, though,” Kris says after a moment of clicking through some more pictures, “Does it bother you? That this is all over the Internet now?”
“Not really, no.” Adam leans back on his elbows and rubs his foot over the back of his calf. “I mean. I never really had a chance of winning this thing in the first place. I’m not here to win anyway so, no problem.”
Kris hums.
“Maybe I’m going to regret this in like, twenty years but right now? I really just don’t care.”
“Those are pretty hot, though,” Kris says, waggling his eyebrows. He looks ridiculous.
Adam laughs. “You are so weird.”
--
“Oh, chips! Sweet.” Matt twists around to catch the bag Adam tosses his way. He’s got his legs hooked over the armrest and he’s two seconds from falling to the floor. “Thanks, man.”
“Welcome,” Adam says, settling between Danny and Kris on the couch. “You can pay me up by being my coffee bitch tomorrow.”
“Yeah, no, I don’t think so,” Matt grins and puts a handful of chips into his mouth.
“So ungrateful,” Adam says. He nudges Kris’ shoulder. “What are we watching?”
Kris blinks at him sleepily. “Honestly? No clue. You just woke me up.”
“Rainmaker,” Allison says. She’s curled in the other armchair, wrapped in an afghan from head to toe. She seems just a tiny bit more awake than Kris.
“Oh, so much action,” Adam mutters, making himself comfortable and opening his bag of Doritos. “Anyone?”
Danny bails out towards the end of the movie. The second he gets up, Kris crawls over Adam to take up the vacated space. He sprawls, tucking his feet under Adam’s thigh.
“You do realize you’re pretty much feeling up a gay dude, right?” Adam quirks an eyebrow at him.
Matt cackles from across the room.
“Mm,” Kris mutters, stretching his hands over his head with a blissful smile. He looks about ten seconds from falling asleep again.
“Kris, man.” Adam drums him fingers on Kris’ calf. “Maybe you should just go to bed instead?”
Kris smiles with his eyes closed. “I’m good.”
“Okay,” Adam concedes. “Hey, Alli, can I have my chips back?”
--
The house is eerily quiet when it’s just the two of them. Kris’ voice echoes off the walls when he sits at the top of the stairs with his phone cradled against his shoulder. There’s no noise to cover it up.
Adam’s bare feet don’t really make any noise either. Still, Kris turns to face him just as Adam is passing by, hand curling right above Adam’s knee and squeezing, hey.
“Hi,” Adam says with a smile. Kris looks like a kid, looking up at him.
“I know,” Kris says into his phone, then frowns, “Yeah, yeah. I get that.”
Adam taps Kris’ shoulder lightly and Kris lets go of his leg. Adam laughs. Kris clips him in the calf.
“I’m gonna be downstairs,” Adam says, pointing towards the floor. Kris gives him a distracted smile and a nod, then frowns again. “I know. Can we change the subject?”
Adam puts his earbuds in and walks down the stairs with Jeff Buckley crooning, All full of wine the world before her, was sober with no place to go, in his ear. He kind of feels like getting drunk on cheap wine and chainsmoking a pack of cigarettes. It’s still a couple more days before he can do that.
--
The apartment smells of stale air and a little bit like Kara’s perfume. It’s weird, unfamiliar.
The table in the kitchen is pushed against the wall, and there are a few misplaced items in the living room. It irks Adam out a little but hey, it’s not that high of a price for having someone else cover his rent for a while.
He doesn’t bother with a shower, just strips down to his underwear and faceplants onto the bed. The sheets are fresh and crispy, and apparently ironed – something Adam himself never bothers to do. It’s actually pretty nice.
He sleeps for sixteen hours straight, and then wakes up only because one of his neighbors starts playing Lionel Richie at a volume that could shatter glass.
“Home, sweet home,” Adam mutters to himself, rolling off the bed. He wants a cup of coffee and a giant plate of cheese ravioli. He’s pretty sure neither is attainable.
--
There’s an electricity outage the third day Adam’s home so he spends four hours listening to music on his iPod. He carefully skips the folder with the Idol recordings.
--
Adam tosses the keys on the table and misses by a mile. It falls to the floor with a loud clatter that makes Adam cringe before he remembers he doesn’t have to be quiet.
He takes off his shoes, leaves his jacket on the hook by the front door. The apartment is dark but Adam doesn’t switch any lights on, just trails his fingers along the wall when he walks to the bedroom, just in case. He takes his wallet and his cell out of the pockets of his pants – back and side one, respectively – and puts it on the nightstand.
He leaves the rest of his clothes in a pile on the bathroom floor and brushes his teeth standing naked in front of the mirror.
The sheets are cool against his skin and Adam just lies there for a minute or two, enjoying it, then reaches for his phone. There’s one missed call from Neil and a message from Kris that says, hulk hogan on tv market.
wtf, Adam types away. The pads of his fingers feel kind of numb.
The phone buzzes in his hand a few seconds later. Adam hits the ‘accept’ button.
“Some work-out machine. He’s got me convinced I’ve got to work on my abs a little. Well, okay. A lot,” Kris says.
“How much is it?”
“$59,99, and I’ll get a fruit peeler if I order now. It’s a pretty sweet fruit peeler, I gotta say.”
Adam scratches his stomach. “Seems like a good deal to me.”
“I’m tempted. Did I wake you up?”
“Nah, I just got home. It’s all fine.”
“You sound a little off, is all. I thought I woke you up or something.”
“No, no,” Adam says, then laughs a little. “I took some acid earlier, I’m still kinda tripping a little. That’s probably it.”
It’s kind of cold so Adam pulls the cover up a little, until it brushes his collarbones. “Why aren’t you asleep?”
In the kitchen, freon kicks in with a loud whoosh. A car passes by, music blasting.
“Couldn’t. Too much coffee.”
Adam runs his hand down his chest. His skin is warm and yields under the press of his fingers easily. He’s kind of horny. He toys with the waistband of his pajama pants and thinks about making Kris talk about something, whatever, just long enough to wrap his fingers around his dick and jerk off. It doesn’t seem fair, though. He says, “You should stay at my place. When we go in the studio, I mean.”
“Hm,” Kris says.
“I’ve got a sweet-ass pull-out couch.”
“Are you sure you want me in your face for another couple of weeks?”
“Yeah, I think I can deal. Plus, you know,” Adam laughs, “I wanna take you to a gay bar, gay bar.”
“I wanna spend all your money, at a gay bar, gay bar,” Kris hums without missing a beat. “We need whip cracks in the background, though.”
Adam looks at the ceiling, at the shadows and the light creeping up the far end. It’s all bright, vivid. He says, “I’m pretty sure I had a whip somewhere in here.”
Kris laughs. “Now that’s an invitation I’ve been wanting to hear, Lambert!”
“You’ve got it,” Adam says, rolling onto his side. His muscles ache a little already. It feels good. “Seriously though. Think about it, okay? Think about it and let me know.”
“I will.”
“Okay, good. I’m gonna crash now, okay? I’m beat.”
“Yeah, go ahead. I’ll get back to you about this.”
“You do that. ‘Night, Kris.”
“Yeah, man. Sleep tight.”
Adam leaves the phone on the pillow, then rolls to the other side of the bed. The patch of light has crept to the center of the ceiling, blue and bright. It’s full moon. Adam thinks about werewolves. He laughs to himself.
--
Funny thing is, Kris doesn’t seem too uncomfortable with the way the guy’s draped over the table, right in Kris’ face in all his sparkly glory. It’s the type of guy Adam would go for, a little over the top and very blatant about what he wants.
There’s no doubt what he wants now, hands splayed over the tabletop, fingers framing Kris’ empty glass as he says something. Adam entertains the idea of giving them some more time, seeing how the situation resolves itself. He’s a little curious as to how Kris would handle this, if he’d lead the guy on, teasing him without actually meaning to, or if he’d finally tell him to just fuck off. It doesn’t seem very likely, though.
“Hey.” Adam slides into the booth next to Kris, depositing two glasses of Screwdriver on the table. Kris looks up with a lopsided smile and Adam fights the urge to laugh. “Hi,” he says, “I’m Adam.”
The guy gives him a once over and it’s a little flattering; would be more under different circumstances. “Hi, Adam.”
Adam cups his hand around the back of Kris’ neck and pulls him in to say right into his ear, “Am I interrupting?” He’s putting up a show here, lingering those two extra seconds and letting his lips brush Kris’ cheek. He’s good at this, he knows. He enjoys doing it.
They guy holds up his hands as if to say, hey, I didn’t know before slinking away, hips swaying ever so slightly. Adam can’t help but look after him for a second. He’s interupted when Kris starts laughing; they’re pressed close enough that he can feel it.
Adam grins. “Rites of passage, Allen. There’s no escaping it.”
“Yeah, I noticed.”
“C’mon, drink up and we’ll get going. I think it’s enough for one night.”
There’s a taxi rank just two blocks over, and they walk. It’s still pretty warm but the rising wind blows over Adam’s sweaty hair in a way that isn’t entirely pleasant.
Kris bumps his shoulder into Adam’s. “You totally just cock-blocked me out there, didn’t you?”
Adam laughs. “You’re so out of your depth here.”
Kris laughs, too, looking up at the sky. “I know.”
“Come on,” Adam says, pulling him into one of the waiting cars. The ride is relatively short, traffic pretty tame at this hour. Adam sinks low in the seat, knees falling apart. He can smell the smoke lingering on the fabric of his jacket, stale and kind of gross. He sighs, tipping his head back. “I call first shower.”
Kris lolls his head sideways to look at him. His smile is slow and open and fucking everything Adam wants to see every single fucking day for the rest of his fucking life.
“Like hell you do,” Kris says.
--
“I honestly thought Mike was going to flip his shit,” Kris says, laughter audible in his voice. Adam can see his bare feet in the bathroom mirror.
He runs a towel over his face, then slings it over the edge of the tub. He’s barely upright and his eyes threaten to close any second. Recording an album is definitely not as awesome as it’s cracked up to be. Fucking hell.
Adam pads to the bedroom and crawls under the covers. Or more like, the part Kris isn’t lying on.
“Don’t pass out on me, man,” Kris says, rolling onto his side. His face is inches away from Adam’s when Adam makes the effort of opening his eyes. One eye. “You can sleep here. You can even take the pillow, I don’t care. Just stop talking,” he mumbles, letting his eyes fall shut again. He feels like someone dropped a ton of rocks on him.
There’s a second, two, of silence, filled with their breathing and a distant wailing of a police siren, then Kris says, voice hushed like he thinks Adam might be asleep already, “’Kay. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Not if I see you first,” Adam mumbles with a smile that barely lifts the cornes of his mouth. He falls asleep to Kris’ fingers splayed warmly in the crook of his elbow.
--
Adam goes out with a bunch of friends and gets drunk. They stop by to get coffee on their way to the Owl, and by the time Adam gets off at his station he’s tipsy instead of shitfaced. He walks the rest of the way. He wonders if Kris is awake. He feels a little bad for leaving him alone but he had asked Kris to come along and Kris had said no.
He gets the key in the lock in the third try. The lightbulb above his head flickers ominously and Adam feels like that character from a horror movie, the one that dies first. It’s not that bad a part, actually. The first and the last victim always get the most screen time compared to those in between. It’s pretty okay.
The apartment welcomes him with the soft murmur of the TV and a patch of light spilling out from the open bathroom door. Adam toes off his shoes and throws his jacket over the back of the couch. Kris is probably going to bitch at him about it, maybe push it to the floor before he goes to sleep and leave it like that. It wouldn’t be unprecedented.
Kris is in the bathroom, brushing his teeth. Adam leans against the doorframe. “Hey.”
Kris gives him a smile over his toothbrush and a mouthful of foam, holds up his hand. Adam stands there watching him when he goes over his task methodically – front, back, up and down, in circles.
“Why aren’t you asleep?” he asks. He’s not precisely sure what time it is, but it feels like it’s late.
Kris spits out the toothpaste and rinses. “Got restless, I guess,” he says, wiping his mouth with the corner of his towel. “Then some action flick came on and I just kinda started watching it, and then the credits started rolling. You know how it goes.”
“You should’ve come with me. It was fun.”
“It’s okay. I got some work done. Finished that one song I was telling you about.”
“Oh, good. Great,” Adam says, then laughs. “I’m a little surprised Mrs. Henley didn’t call the cops on you, though.”
“There was some banging on the wall,” Kris admits. “Minor.”
Kris’ got a bruise right above his elbow from where Adam grabbed him a few days ago, right before some soccer mom nearly ran him over in the Walmart parking lot. It flickers in the mirror, purple with a tint of yellow, when Kris moves.
It’s exactly three and a half steps from the sink to the door, Adam counted it once. It’s easy to reach out and wrap his fingers around Kris’ wrist, somewhere between his second and third step. There’s cheerful music coming from the living room, some overly chipper voice. Laundry detergent commercial, Adam thinks distantly.
He strokes his thumb over the side of Kris’ neck, down, until it rests in the dip of his collarbone. Kris isn’t pulling away. He looks up at Adam and blinks once, twice.
Adam’s head feels like it’s filled with cotton when he leans down to kiss him. Kris’ lips are dry in the way they always are right after you brush your teeth, smooth when Adam touches his tongue to the corner of Kris’ mouth.
The doorframe is digging into his back so Adam shifts until it fits into the dip of his spine, pulls Kris with him. Kris’ tongue tastes like Adam’s toothpaste, mint and lemon. He smells clean and warm. It doesn’t seem fair, because Adam smells like cigarette smoke and sweat, and there’s a sour aftertaste on his tongue from the coffee. Kris isn’t pulling away.
Adam’s entire body is buzzing. He wonders if Kris can feel it when he touches Adam’s back, fingers splayed just under his shoulderblades. Suddenly, Adam wants to touch skin, too. He runs his hands down Kris’ back and up, sliding them under his t-shirt, bunching it up as he goes up again until the tips of his fingers rest at the top of Kris’ spine. It pulls Kris a little closer so Adam bends his left knee to accommodate him. He moves his hands a few inches, feels the short hairs at the nape of Kris’ neck. It’s been a long time since Adam had his hair this short. Kris sighs against his mouth, runs his knuckles over the bumps of Adam’s spine and Adam bows off the doorframe on a groan he’s too drunk and turned on to think about muffling.
Two seconds later and there’s a load bang on the wall. Then another, and another. Thud, thudthudthud.
They break apart, and look at each other. Then Kris cracks up. “Seriously.”
Adam frowns. He kinds of hates Mrs. Henley’s guts right now. “Okay, that was totally uncalled for.”
“Apparently, she’s had enough for the day,” Kris says. He’s not laughing anymore, just smiling with the corner of his mouth. He licks his lips and it’s kind of self-conscious all of a sudden. Adam looks away.
“I’m,” he starts but doesn’t know what to say next. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Shit. I’m sorry.”
Kris opens his mouth like he wants to say something, then closes it. Finally, he says, “It’s okay.”
It felt okay, it felt fucking amazing, but right now Adam isn’t so sure it is okay. He’s still pretty drunk and a hell lot of confused right now. “I’m gonna crash. I’m kind of. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Kris looks at him for a long minute before finally moving out of Adam’s way. He sighs. “Sleep tight.”
Adam undresses, leaving his clothes in a messy pile in the middle of the room, then sits at the edge of the bed. He rubs at his eyes; they sting a little from the eyeliner. He thinks, fuck this.
--
“Where are you?” Adam needs to blink a couple of times before he wakes up enough to actually process what Kris is saying. “Adam?”
“Yeah,” Adam mutters, “I’m here.”
“It’s half past ten. Are you going in later today or something?”
And that’s when it clicks. “Fuck.”
Kris laughs. “I woke you up, didn’t I?”
“Dude, it’s not funny.” Adam scrambles out of bed. He’s already late by half an hour. He’s screwed.
“Okay, then. I’m gonna hang up now that you’re awake and all.”
Adam has no memory of waking up and switching the alarm off. He would have overslept by a lot more had Kris not called him. “Hey, Kris? Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. See ya.”
Adam calls the studio between gathering his clothes and hopping into the shower. He doesn’t bother making up excuses, just tells Andy he’ll be over in an hour. It’s probably a huge bout of optimism on his part but Andy just grumbles, “Yeah, yeah. Get your ass over here,” and hangs up. He reminds Adam of his dad a lot.
--
“Let’s. Fuck, I don’t know. Let’s take a break,” Morgan says, rubbing at his left eye. Adam hears him over the speaker and sees him talk through the glass but it feels like those are two things happening separately.
Adam takes off his headphones and stretches, going onto his tiptoes. His bones crack.
The coffee from the machine outside is pretty terrible but it’s the only one available. Adam gets a cup with double milk and double sugar and walks down the hallway to take his usual spot. There’s a window at the end, with the last hints of light coming through it. Adam thinks, What would Mulder do? then laughs to himself.
He perches on the windowsill and drinks his coffee methodically. There’s a dull thudding at the back of his skull, it’s really annoying.
He’s in the middle of texting his mom when Kris tumbles out the door at Adam’s left.
“Hi,” Kris says with a deep sigh. He sounds tired. Frustrated.
“What’s wrong?” Adam asks, cradling the phone between his palms for a second before slipping it into the pocket of his jeans.
“Fuck, it’s. I don’t even know, man. They’re driving me crazy, I’m driving them crazy and I’m so ready for this day to be over.”
Adam laughs and reaches to pull him into a side hug. Kris groans and tucks his face into the crook of Adam’s neck. He mutters, “So ready.”
“You can have some of my shitty coffee, if you want.”
“I’ll pass, thank you.”
Adam laughs and, when Kris pulls back, digs his fingers into the tight knot of muscle in his shoulder. Kris groans, tips his head forward. “Keep doing that.”
“I can give you a proper massage when we get home. I’m pretty sure I even have some massage oils left.”
“The Lambert Spa, huh?” Kris glances over at him with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Mani-pedi at a twenty percent discount,” Adam says before he squeezes Kris’ shoulder one last time and lets go. “I’m gonna head back inside. Hopefuly they’ve figured out what they want me to do by now.”
“Okay,” Kris says, rolling his shoulders. “I’ll see you downstairs.”
--
“Hey,” Kris says, standing in the doorway. He hits the lull between two songs and it’s the only reason Adam actually hears him.
He takes the earbuds out. “What’s up?”
“Nothing much. Just bored.”
“C’mere.” Adam pats the bed beside him and scoots to make more space. Kris crawls on the bed knee-hand-knee, like a kid. Or a cat, Adam can’t decide.
“What are you listening to?”
“Bowie.” Adam is tired of listening to his own voice, on repeat all day long, with reverb, with pitch, with echo, through a vocoder, whatever-the-fuck. He’s tired.
Kris grabs one of the earbuds and curls on his side next to Adam. He grins. “It’s like a junior high field trip. Sweet.”
Adam grins back, taps out the rhythm on his own stomach. There’s a patch of light slanting across the opposite wall, separating it in half. The line flickers and blurs when the voltage jumps minutely. Adam stills his hand, splays his fingers wide, feeling the heat of his own skin seep through the fabric. He kind of wants to touch Kris’ neck.
Kris’ eyes flick up and he catches Adam looking. Adam doesn’t bother looking away.
Kris says, “Are you thinking about kissing me?”
Adam doesn’t see the reason to lie. “Yeah.”
Kris doesn’t hesitate when he says. “Then do it.”
I see you see me through your window, David Bowie sings into Adam’s right ear. The earbud falls out when Adam shifts to lean on his elbow. He looks at Kris. Kris looks back at him. It’s the weirdest five seconds of Adam’s life.
Kris’ eyes fall shut when Adam touches his neck, with just his fingertips. Adam is very, very careful not to jostle the cord when he slides his hand under it to curl around the back of Kris’ neck. He wonders what verse Kris is on.
Adam hovers. He counts out the beat like they taught him when he got his first part in a musical that required actual dancing; one-and-two-and --
Kris breathes out against his lips when Adam leans down, and fucks the rhythm all to hell. Adam’s laughing, just a little, when he kisses him.
--
“Food’s here!” Adam announces, balancing four take-out boxes and trying to close the door with his foot. “Ha.”
He hands Kris two of the boxes, puts his own on the coffee table and goes to get the beer from the fridge.
“I feel like an exemplary wife here. What’s up with that?” he says, flopping onto the couch next to Kris and tearing the chopsticks wrapper with his teeth.
“I don’t know, but it’s nice.” Kris grins, kicking his feet up on the table and digging in.
Adam sighs dramatically. “The shit I go through for you, Allen.”
They eat in silence, watching Mel Gibson dislocate his shoulder on a wall. The light coming from the screen is pretty dim and Adam’s having a hard time fishing out the bits of chicken from his box.
“You’re not my bi-curious phase. Thing. Whatever,” Kris says suddenly. Adam looks over at him but Kris is looking at the screen. Adam says, “Okay.”
“Okay. Pass me the beer?”
