Fic - Not Your Momma's Fairytale - Kradam - 2/4
Previous
He wakes up on Cassidy's couch in the afternoon and there's a cup of coffee on the table beside him. Adam's brain feels like it's oozing down his throat and he's sticky and gross with sweat. There's a glass of water and he drinks it in one big gulp and groans queasily.
Cassidy shuffles in from the bedroom. "Oh thank god. Coffee."
"Mmm," Adam is cradling his own mug and slowly crawling towards awareness.
Cassidy comes to sit on the bit of couch that Adam isn't actually using and they just zone out in companionable silence until the coffee kicks in. Adam aches and his feet are one throbbing mass of aches and pains. He's going to be wearing sneakers for the next few days and ice-packs are in his not-so-far-future. Adam hopes he's got enough for a cab because there is no way he's walking home.
Cassidy finishes his coffee and blinks a little as he finishes waking up. He looks across at Adam and smiles. "So, you and Brad?"
"Me and who?"
"Brad? About so tall, brunet, hot-ass?" Cassidy is smirking and Adam thumps him weakly in the shoulder on pure reflex. "The dude you were grinding off for half the night?"
Adam's lips curve at the memory of sweat and music and motion. Oh yeah, he's going to remember that guy. "Brad? I didn't get a name."
"I'm guessing you got a number, you player you." Cassidy laughs when Adam fumbles for his phone.
"I don't have a Brad," Adam says after scrolling through his contacts list twice.
Cassidy stands up and collects the mugs. "Any new entries?"
"I don't think-" Adam breaks off to stare at his phone. "Okay, I have a 'Sparkles Blowjobs and Twink Delivery'? The fuck?"
"That sounds like Cheeks." Cassidy's voice floats out from the kitchen over the sound of running water. "Though he must really like you if he's offering blowjobs already."
"Cheeks?"
"Don't ask." Cassidy comes out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a scrap of faux fur. "Just call him sometime soon, yeah?"
Adam promises and Cassidy drops him home and Adam only remembers Kris when he goes into the bathroom and sees a faint golden glow through the frosted glass. He opens the window to find Kris crouched on the windowsill with his wings wrapped tightly around himself. He looks exhausted and half-frozen and Adam has to call his name three times before he responds. Adam's half a second from just opening the window the whole way and trying to grab Kris as he gets knocked off. There are things about their apartment that Adam hates.
Kris takes a minute to focus and even then, he doesn't fly through the window. He gets up and wobbles his way across the window sill and crawls under the window. Adam hovers, hands outstretched until Kris' wings open at last and he glides to the floor. "Kris?"
Kris ignores him, setting off across the bathroom floor with Adam trailing him. He's afraid to step any closer because he's still hungover enough that he doesn't trust his balance and if Kris can't - isn't - flying, he won't be able to dodge if Adam steps on him. Kris stops in front of the dresser, swaying a little as he frowns up at it. Adam feels like he should just pick Kris up but when he moves forward, Kris' head snaps around and he glares at Adam.
Adam steps back, hands up and Kris turns back to the dresser. His wings beat a couple of slow, hesitant sweeps then more strongly; enough that Kris bounces up high enough to catch the edge of the drawer and pull himself in. The bath towel rustles as he burrows in and Adam is left standing in the doorway, guilty and worried.
Kris doesn't talk to him for the rest of the day and only comes out to drink some water before disappearing back into his drawer. Adam spends the day puttering around and practicing a bit for the audition. He feels like an unwelcome guest which is nuts because technically this is his apartment, it says so on the lease.
By about eleven that night, he's worked his way to angry and he storms into the bedroom and bangs on Kris' drawer until Kris pops his head out of the bath towel to glare up at him. "Go away, Adam."
"No. You do not get to be a pissy little bitch and not tell me why!" Adam snaps.
"Pissy. Little. Bitch." Kris' voice flattens out completely and he pulls himself out of the bath towel, wings curling up and back. He's flushed and looks furious. Adam remembers suddenly that Kris is capable of carrying like three bags of groceries at once. "Let me just get this clear here. Wouldn't want any misunderstandings over this. You ditch me at the club. You don't even tell me you're leaving. You don't tell me where you're going. You don't leave me a key. You don't even leave a fucking window open. I have to sit on the bathroom window and hope that you come back before I freeze or the rats get me. I haven't eaten for a whole day. I'm so fucking cold that I'm only just starting to get feeling back in my wings. I haven't had any sleep since the night before yesterday. All I want is a little time alone and I'm the pissy bitch here?"
Adam flounders a little, it's the first time he's heard Kris swear and Kris is actually shaking with rage, or maybe exhaustion.
Kris shakes his head, wings drooping to hang heavily from his shoulders. "Just...go away, Adam. I'm too mad to be thinking straight right now. Let me sleep and tomorrow, I'll be glad you had a good time. Just...not now."
He pulls up the bath towel and his glow dims to the point when Adam can't see it even with the lights off. Adam can't let it go at that of course, he goes into the kitchen and gets a shot glass full of the pineapple juice that Kris insists they get and a toasted cheese sandwich which he slices up into like fifty little pieces. He goes back into the bedroom and taps quietly on the drawer.
"Kris?" No response and Adam juggles the hot plate and shot glass before it dawns on him that he can put them on the damn dresser, so he does that. "Look, I've been an asshole and I'm really sorry. We don't have to talk about it tonight but you need to eat something."
There's another long silence and Adam keeps his hands by his sides only with a great effort of will. "Please, babe. You have to eat."
Because Kris doesn't even eat as much as Adam but he needs to eat, told Adam why back on their first New Year's when they were both drunk from cheap-vodka and chocolate syrup milkshakes. That magic is like fire and it keeps burning, even when there isn't fuel and Kris eats so much because he doesn't have any other way to feed it and if he doesn't... Adam doesn't think Kris remembers the second half of the conversation, the stories of fairies who'd starved and burned altogether, dwindling into ash on the wind. One day shouldn't be fatal, can't be fatal; Adam won't let it be.
Kris crawls out of his bath towel and looks up at him for a few long seconds. Adam doesn't even breathe. Then Kris scrambles up to sit beside the plate and starts munching determinedly. Adam relaxes with a soft sigh. He gets up and gets a glass of water and a refill of juice for Kris before he brushes his teeth and cleans the last of last night's makeup off. When he comes back out, Kris spreads his wings and flies over to settle on his chest, snuggling into Adam's ratty old Bowie T-shirt with a sigh. Adam cuddles him close and sends up a silent prayer of thanks to anybody looking out for wannabe rock-stars and their stupid selfless best friends.
"You should call that guy," Kris says sleepily, sprawling out across Adam's chest like a kitten.
"Guy?"
"The guy-" Kris cracks his jaw as he yawns. "-that you were dancing with."
"Oh?" Adam smiles down at him.
"He made you happy," Kris mumbles as he snuggles in and Adam dips his head just enough to kiss Kris' hair before wiggling a little and closing his eyes.
He calls Brad the next afternoon and they talk for half an hour before Adam asks if Brad wants to get coffee. Brad does, after making like six dirty jokes in response and they wind up in Starbucks a few days later. They talk (flirt) for hours and Adam is still smiling when he goes for his audition. Kris tags along, lurking overhead in among the stage lights while Adam sings his heart out. He aces the whole thing and the director actually comes backstage to chat with him for a while and leaves with a smile on his face so Adam's fucking stoked.
He buys Kris a Grande Signature Hot Chocolate with extra whipped cream and laughs his ass off when Kris winds up looking like he's wearing a face mask.
When they get home, Adam checks the tin that they keep the cash in. There's still about four hundred dollars in there which is more than enough to pay for groceries and a kickass first 'official' date with Brad. He tells Kris that and Kris thinks for a second before agreeing.
"I posted the cash for the credit card bill so we should be fine for the next month at least." Kris grins at him. "Leave a hundred for emergencies and we should be golden until your last pay-check clears."
Adam stares at him, starry-eyed and Kris cracks up. "Yes, that means you can buy the boots."
Adam buys his new boots, takes Brad out for dinner and a wild night of clubbing and they wind up spending the night at Brad's apartment which is much bigger and airier than Adam's. They fuck the whole night and Adam can barely walk the next day. He has to carry Brad to the shower and leave him there for like an hour before Brad can walk (waddle) and Adam would feel guilty but Brad just smirks and drags him into a smoking hot kiss filled with dirty promises.
Adam has to walk like three blocks to find a taxi and he's wearing last night's clothes and smeared make-up and his hair is just a wreck and Adam can't stop smiling. He calls Brad that evening and they set up another date for Friday and Adam tells Kris all about it over a seriously late brunch. Kris laughs and throws a tea towel at his head and makes grossed out faces.
Being with Brad is crazy, awesome and Adam pretty much floats through the next few months. He's had crushes before but he's actually in love this time and everything is wonderful. Adam talks for hours about his boyfriend to his mom and Neil and his dad and Kris most of all because Kris can't hang up on him.
Since Adam is not actually a sixteen-year-old kid, he does have some sensible moments; he never goes out for anything stronger than coffee with Brad on the night before a show, he invites all his other friends out at least once a week and he keeps two nights a week free for Kris.
Brad introduces Adam to the LA that he'd dreamed of back when he was fat, spotty and fantasizing in San Diego. The clubs where you don't listen to the music, you feel it. The seedy bars, the shops with the blacked out windows and the graffiti that covers the ugly lumpy concrete slums and makes them fierce and vibrant and beautiful. Adam learns tarot, gets his wrist tattooed one night because he's high and it's a week before he has to go to work and sits crowded up between Brad and a girl with blonde dreadlocks down past her ass in a tiny fire hazard of a room while incense burns and a drum beats out steady pulse-rhythm.
Adam grows up, learns more about himself than he imagined existed and he is genuinely happy.
So he doesn't notice when it starts to go sour, not right away and not before it's too late.
They fight one day, the sort of fight that cold-cocks Adam and he only realizes months later how long it had been brewing. Brad is flirting with some blond twink who's even wearing his college football jersey and just for a second, Adam's fat and hopeless, stranded back in high school, watching the cool kids and wishing. He's drunk and just shy of being actually high and he says some stupid things. He doesn't mean them but he won't work that out until later. He still says them.
Brad, for the first time that Adam's known him, loses his shit. Right there on the dance floor and it takes five bouncers to drag them off the dance floor and throw them out. Brad storms off before Adam can say anything. Adam curses, uses every single dirty, rude word he knows and kicks over a dustbin.
He goes home because he's just clearheaded enough to know that if he stays out, he's going to get arrested. He slams the front door behind him, hard enough that he knocks the framed print off the wall, crappy plastic hook and all.
"Adam?" Kris comes skimming out of the bedroom, rumpled and worried and Adam only realizes he's crying when Kris' hand on his cheek comes away black.
Kris deserves a medal, he must have stayed up all night already but he takes over; steering Adam over to the couch, wings flapping hard and there was at least a few seconds there where Adam could swear that Kris actually bodily lifts him. With Adam safely deposited on the couch, Kris zips back into the kitchen and comes back with ice-cream and the vodka.
He bawls like a baby and Kris curls up against his heart and sings to him when his throat closes around the sobbing. Adam just pours it all out and Kris listens and is there. Adam passes out sometime between the millionth and the million and first iteration of 'oh god what have I done' and 'I'm going to die bitter and alone and no-one will ever love me'.
He wakes up to the sound of knocking on the door and Kris gets up which Adam can only tell by the loss of warmth just over his heart and the faint whir of his wings. Adam is still mostly asleep, just aware enough to register the sound of the door opening and Brad's "We're not fucking fin-"
Then Kris' voice, soft and savage in the way it just isn't normally. "Shut the fuck up."
"Holy fucking shit!" Brad sounds shrill and shaky, like he's coming down from a bad trip.
"Leave him alone. You want to fight, you do it tomorrow." There's light, bright enough that Adam sees red through his eyelids.
There's the sound of stumbling footsteps and the light goes out. No matter how hard Adam struggles, he's too drunk and too deeply asleep to wake the rest of the way up. He hangs on until the door clicks shut and Kris settles back over his heart. Adam turns his head a little, mouth opening to ask but he's asleep before he finishes breathing in.
He wakes with a killer hangover and his phone ringing. It's Danielle, wondering why the fuck he isn't in rehearsal. Adam spins some off the cuff bullshit about a 24-hour bug and swears on his favorite leather boots to be in tomorrow. Kris has coffee and bagels waiting for him and mothers him outrageously for the rest of the day.
Adam gets a call from Cassidy, offering commiserations about the meltdown between him and Brad. That's how Adam knows it's over.
The next few weeks are hell, pure and simple. He and Brad don't talk to each other. Their friends find out through the grapevine and it's awkward because they pretty share their entire social circle and no-one wants to get caught in the middle. It's not like Adam can blame them; he spends the first week at work or with Kris and Kris is the one who kicks him out on Friday night and steals his phone to send Cassidy a text inviting him out for a drink.
Adam feels hollow most the time, like there's nothing there but a sucking black hole. Brad's tangled up in the city, in Adam's friends, in his favorite places and everything's uncomfortable and miserable without him. Kris starts singing pretty much all the time, even dancing when Adam's depression threatens to topple over into suicidal. There's something inherently hilarious about watching a little golden fairy shaking his ass across the kitchen counter and Adam laughs as much as he cries. Adam's life picks up a soundtrack, courtesy of Kris Allen and gradually, he wins back his love of music.
Two months after he broke up with Brad, Adam gets a Christmas bonus in his check from Wicked. He's already bought most of the presents he wanted to get, Kris watches the budget carefully and has already added his own small wrapped bundles to his shoe-box. It's the one that came with Adam's first LA boots, since reclaimed by Kris. Kris doesn't talk much about his family or friends; all Adam really has are names and the occasional story. Times like these, he regrets that but he has no idea how to make Kris feel comfortable with talking to him about it after all these years.
So Adam doesn't ask where Kris is getting these presents or who they're for; he especially doesn't ask if Kris still wants to go home. It was different for Adam who moved out when he was ready to be his own person, Kris hasn't seen or spoken to another fairy since he met Adam. Adam's in a bleak enough mood that he blames himself for that and half-convinces himself that Kris is pining for home.
Then Kris makes him an eggnog latte with chocolate sprinkles and some homemade chocolate chip muffins, enough for the whole cast, just in time for him to take them to his last pre-Christmas show. He sneaks along, tucking himself in between the layers of Adam's cashmere scarf and providing a running commentary the whole way to the theater.
"That woman looks like she's going to pop, I hope she doesn't have bad blood pressure. Did you see that Santa Claus? I've never seen one with a leather outfit before. Those lights aren't in sync, it's messing with my head."
Adam chuckles and Kris' wing flicks against the bare skin at the back of his neck.
"I didn't think LA got this cold. Isn't the Equator supposed to be keeping us all sunny and shit?"
"Could be worse," Adam points out. "At least in LA, it's not going to snow. San Diego's actually got snow forecast."
"Snow is awesome," Kris insists and they argue about that for a couple of blocks until Adam turns into the alley leading to the stage door and Kris goes quiet. Adam drops the muffins into the green room, neatly diverting every one of his cast-mates out of the changing rooms for a few minutes while he strips off his normal clothes and makes sure Kris doesn't have frost-bite. Kris flits around, it's not his first time backstage but he's endlessly fascinated by it and Adam finishes changing.
"Why did you want to come anyway?"
"I wanted to hear you sing," Kris says matter-of-factly.
"You can hear me singing anytime. It's not like you aren't there when I practice," Adam points out.
"Not like you sing on stage," Kris says seriously. "And there's instruments and other singers and lights and-"
Adam looks up at him fondly, Kris is looping around the ceiling and not looking at him which means he's being shy. How Kris can still be shy about anything to do with Adam is a mystery that Adam simply cannot fathom. It's kind of awesome though because Kris is adorable but Kris when he's feeling shy is extra-super-adorable, like puppies and kittens squared adorable.
Kris stays near the flood lights, hiding his glow from everyone but Adam. He's there for the entire show and Adam suspects he's the instigator of at least one curtain call. He stays out of the way until Adam's said goodbye to everyone and scrubbed off as much of his make-up as he can before nestling into Adam's scarf and falling asleep. Adam walks home with Kris snoring softly against his neck and for the first time since the Fight, he feels...happy.
Adam puts Kris to bed when they get home and goes online with his laptop. Finding what he wants takes most of the night and costs most of Adam's bonus but it's perfect. Adam types in his parents' address and pays the extra for express shipping before crawling into bed.
They drive up to San Diego two days later and have duet sing-a-longs to the radio and Adam's ancient Micheal Jackson and David Bowie tapes. Adam is hoarse from singing by the time they pull in and he hugs his mom and gives her a real smile when she asks how he's been.
"It's been rough," he says honestly. "But I'm getting through it. I don't think I'm okay, not yet, but I will be, I know that."
"That's all anyone can ask, sweetheart," his mom says with a sad smile.
Neil is full of news and opinions about things like politics (Adam knows a little), foreign news (Adam knows less) and the stock market (Adam knows jack shit). They argue over DVDs and the cultural implications of watching a Christmas movie over Hanukkah and decide to watch one of the really shitty ones with popcorn so they can set up a drinking game.
Adam hands out presents over the eight days but he saves Kris' for Christmas. Kris' present this year is some seriously kickass silver jewelry, heavy bracelets with a different ring each night. It looks fierce and Adam spends an hour or so in his bathroom just posing with them.
He'd gotten Kris an iPod with a speaker system that he can plug it into and Kris does this dorky delighted wiggle that isn't exactly dancing but comes so close that's it's impossible to tell the difference. It's one of the tiny ones which makes it about half Kris' size and Adam laughs when Kris goes to sleep that night cuddling it like a teddy bear.
Kris' other present arrives on Boxing Day and Adam has to smuggle it up past his parents which gives him all sorts of flashbacks to his teenage self.
"What's in there?" Kris asks, fluttering over from where he'd been sprawled across a cushion.
"Your present." Adam says, setting it down to cut through the packing tape. Kris zooms over to hover by his shoulder.
"But you already bought me my present."
"This is the other half of it," Adam has to saw off a corner to actually get any of the tape unpicked. He slits the box open as carefully as possible. There's a book and another package, this time wrapped in insulation and taped solidly together. Adam holds out the book 'Teach Yourself Guitar In Fifteen Minutes A Day!'
Kris grabs it by the spine and flies it over to set down on the dresser, frowning a little. Adam can see him composing a polite thank you and rips off the last of the bubble wrap to reveal the tiny guitar. Kris freezes for a second then he's hovering over the guitar, wings brushing Adam's hand. "Is that-?"
"Fully functional," Adam says, smiling. "It's amazing what you can find on the internet these days."
Kris picks up the guitar reverently, wings trembling with excitement and cradles it. Adam can actually see sparkling stars in his eyes and Kris twangs some strings, frowning and twiddling the keys until it sounds like a proper guitar. He's utterly enraptured and Adam, sitting back with his weight on his hands, watches as Kris feels his way through a slow, stuttery version of 'Jingle Bells'.
The last note fades and Kris looks up. He has actual tears in his eyes but he's smiling, the wide amazed grin that scrunches up the corner of his eyes and Adam's answering smile isn't a choice, it's a compulsion. "Thank you. Thank you for-...just thank you."
Kris actually makes the guitar case himself, out of cardboard and an old chamois leather that Adam's had for years. It's safely stowed in the glove box when they leave for LA with a cooler full of food and it's the first thing Kris brings into the apartment, putting it carefully into his drawer before coming back out to help Adam with the rest of the bags.
January and February are a blur; there's a rash of colds and flus and the cast dwindles alarmingly. Adam spends a couple of weekends tucked up in a blanket with Kris feeding him soup and orange juice but he's one of the healthy ones which means he's working harder than he ever has in his life until March, when everyone's back and there's time to breathe.
Brad calls him on Saint Patrick's Day. Adam is hanging with Cassidy and the conversation is awkward but it isn't the bitter hostility that Adam was expecting. When Adam calls him back two days later to ask if Brad's visited the new club near the leather club (which is really a rhetorical question, of course he has) and what he thought of it, Brad's vicious dissection of the club, the music and clientèle has Adam in stitches for like an hour.
It's not that simple but they both want the friendship. Adam wouldn't mind the searing hot sex but he wasn't just in love with Brad, he loves him and cutting him out of his life would have sucked. Their friends are totally behind them and they manage the transition faster and smoother than Adam would have believed possible just a few months ago.
He's meeting Brad for coffee and a chat about Burning Man which Adam is going to try to get to this year. They're chatting until the cafe closes and it seems completely natural to just keep talking. Adam doesn't realize that Brad is steering him until they're actually on the stairs to his apartment.
"Ask me in, bitch." Brad says before Adam can come up with an excuse as to why he doesn't want to bring Brad in.
"I would," Adam parries. "But the red carpet's at the cleaners."
"I can slum it."
Then Brad's in the apartment and Adam takes a covert look around; there's a container of Chinese food, the door to the bedroom's ajar but there's no obvious sign of Kris. Brad keeps Adam talking for hours over coffee and Adam relaxes. They break out the makeup and the tequila (and why did Adam buy tequila?) and Adam is sprawled across the couch, giggling when Brad looks up from the eyeliner in his hand. "So, are you going to introduce me to your room-mate or what?"
"Kris?" Adam says before he can catch the word. Brad's smile goes sharkish and he sits back.
"Kris? The Kris? Your friend Kris?" Before Adam can figure out what the hell he should be saying, Brad looks around. "Kris? Come on, Kris. Are you here?"
The bedroom lights up and Brad smiles wide. Adam is frozen in place, heart pounding like a jackhammer, violent gulps of movement that shake through him. Kris comes into the main room, glowing just a little brighter than normal; enough that Adam can't read his expression. Every instinct Adam has is screaming at him to throw Brad out and lie, pretend that this never happened.
Kris stays back, hovering about three feet from the couch. Brad is staring at him, his typical smirk not quite in place. Adam covers his face with his hands and tries to wish himself sober.
"You are Kris, right?" Brad asks eventually.
"Right," Kris says cautiously.
"Oh, thank god, I was starting to think you couldn't speak." Adam looks up in time to see Brad holding out his hand. "Brad Bell, at your service."
"Um, Kris Allen. Nice to meet you." Kris comes close enough to shake Brad's hand and Brad draws him closer to the couch.
"So where did Adam find you?" Brad asks, sitting back to cross his ankles and study Kris with unconcealed fascination.
"Um, there was a camping trip and some weed," Kris perches on the back of the couch and looks between them. He's chewing his lower lip and Adam sits back up reluctantly.
"Adam, you corrupter of innocent youth!" Brad give him an arch look. "You do realize that makes you the poster boy for the Lunatic Right's image of gays, yes?"
"Hey," Adam objects, "I was sixteen and I was ginger and fat and ugly-"
"You were not ugly!" Kris interrupts and Brad looks down at him with an expression that Adam's never seen on him before.
"Oh, baby," Brad coos, reaching out to pet Kris' wings and looking enchanted when they do that weird flip/fluffing thing that they always do when someone touches them. "You are just a gem, aren't you?"
It's at this point that Adam decides he needs more booze. Lots and lots more booze. This isn't going to be a night he wants to remember. There's only another two bottles of booze and a bottle of beer that Adam got for Kris to have during the football season. Even the emergency liquor bottle is empty. Adam is still distressingly sober when he comes back to find Brad painting Kris' nails. Kris, who is already drunk on three shots of vodka, is perched on the point of Brad's knee, giggling a little as Brad pets his wings and talks colors
"Definitely a summer, I think," Brad says, considering. "No, don't move, babe. That's gotta dry first."
Kris hums disapproval, his wings shivering in annoyance. Adam rubs along his back with the tip of his finger and Kris leans back against him. Brad quirks an eyebrow at Adam who absolutely does not glare at him. Kris is a tactile guy, Adam's known that for years. It would be stupid to get jealous of the way he's sprawled across Brad.
Adam grits his teeth and doesn't say anything. Brad is chatting with Kris, who is still nervous but getting animated as Brad prods genuine answers out of him. It's disconcerting to be reminded that Brad's only a queen bitch because he wants to be. Brad is really working the charm. He's putting serious effort into getting Kris to respond and Kris gets won over despite the fact that Kris doesn't really like Brad. (It's not personal, Kris just defaults to being on Adam's side in any given argument.)
An hour later and Kris is asleep in a tangled nest made of one of Adam's hoodies and Brad's scarf. He's snoring a little, which Kris doesn't normally do and Adam has a protective arm around the Kris/clothes bundle. Brad has gone quiet, looking down at Kris with dark, unreadable eyes as he sips from a bottle of water.
"How long has he been living with you?" Brad asks, something confusing and grim in his voice and is he jealous?
Adam is too drowsy-drunk to resist and he has to think for a few minutes because his life before he had Kris doesn't feel like it was his life. "Six, six and a half years. I was sixteen."
"Does anyone else know about him?" Brad's pressing his lips together, looking more serious.
"No," Adam says, tracing the edge of Kris' wing with an unsteady fingertip and wondering if he's drunker than he thinks he is. "He stays with me most of the time and it's not safe."
"Not safe? Why not safe?" Brad pokes.
Adam scowls at him. "People will see him! 'Course it's not safe."
"What, you're afraid they're going to lock him in a zoo or something?" Brad says incredulously. "Oh sweetheart, that's so...eighties film writer of you."
Adam glowers because he can't make his mind work long enough to organize his jumbled thoughts into words that Brad will understand.
"He goes to your shows? Your rehearsals?" Brad presses and Adam's got the feeling that Brad is steering this conversation somewhere but he's too tired, too drunk and too pissed at Brad for coming barging in and painting Kris' nails to actually give a fuck.
"Sometimes he comes to the show," Adam says absently. "Not rehearsals. He can't hide when the stage lights aren't all on."
"Just so's I'm clear here," Brad puts down his bottle of water and turns to face Adam head-on. "You find a fairy, take him home-"
"I told you, there was weed involved," Adam waves his free hand. "I didn't mean to kidnap him!"
"-you kidnapped him?" Brad is scowling now, voice sharp enough that Kris stirs, brows drawing down and mumbles a little. They both freeze. Brad waits until he's settled again before continuing in a quiet, vicious tone. "You kidnap a fairy, take him home, keep him in your bedroom, only let him out when it doesn't inconvenience you and you can't see a problem with this?"
"It's not like that," Adam protests, because it isn't; Brad makes it sound cruel and Adam's not a saint but Kris is his best friend and Adam's always tried his best to make him happy.
"I think it's exactly like that," Brad looks down at Kris and shakes his head. "You can't keep doing this to him, Adam."
"I'm not doing anything to him," Adam says sulkily, hugging Kris' bundle a little tighter.
"That's the point," Brad snaps then he sighs and rubs his face, smearing his makeup a little and wow, this really is serious because Adam has never seen Brad mess up his make-up, like, ever. "Adam...look, doesn't he deserve to have something other than you in his life? People to hang out with when you're not there? Places to go when you sexile him?"
"I don't bring guys back here," Adam objects because that's the first thing Brad's said that doesn't have the ring of truth.
"No, you just stay out all night," Brad says, daring Adam to contradict him. Adam can't; Brad knows he's done that, been the cause most of the times Adam wound up staying out all night. Brad looks at him, chin on hand. "Baby, I'm not saying you have to give him up. No-one's going to take him away."
"Then what are you saying," Adam demands, Kris and hoody now tucked up against him protectively.
"I'm saying that he should have options," Brad says simply. "You know Cassidy would love him to pieces and Alisan would adore him. I'm not suggesting you take an ad in the LA Times or anything crazy, just that you stop locking him in your apartment and let him out to stretch his wings."
"I guess," Adam admits grudgingly, slouching in his seat and closing his eyes. He's not talking about this with Brad any more. He's planning just to keep his eyes closed until Brad gets the point but he's shattered and he winds up falling asleep right there on the couch.
Kris knows Adam's weakness far too well; Adam comes awake the next morning to the delicious smell of bacon sizzling and Brad groans and rolls off the couch and Adam laughs reflexively because it's kind of amazing to see Brad all rumpled and with his make-up smeared and his hair looking like the Lion's mane from Oz.
Brad flips him off, running fingers through his hair and rubbing his eyes. "Just for that, bitch, I'mma shower first."
Adam can't really argue with that. He points Brad towards the towels and slouches into the kitchen/dining room where Kris is zooming around the kitchen. "It is totally not fair that you don't get hangovers."
"I get to live with you being hungover," Kris points out, carrying a glass of water and some aspirin. "I think I suffer enough."
"Mmmm," Adam gulps down the water and the pills and leans back against the counter.
"So, um, Brad seems nice?" Kris says tentatively, flitting around the frying pan and the toaster.
Adam laughs again, because Brad, Brad is wonderful and lovely and has unexpected depths of loyalty and kindness but "Brad is a bitch. I think he liked you, though."
"You think so?" Kris is carefully not looking at him, wielding the antique fork from the set Adam bought at a second-hand store. It's like an inch longer than Kris is tall and it's hilarious to watch him using it (even if Adam has learnt better than to actually laugh at him. Kris isn't just fast, he's vicious when he's pissed).
"He was painting your nails," Adam points out and Kris shoots him a wary glance over his shoulder. "Of course he likes you."
"Painting my nails means he likes me?" Kris says, not entirely convinced and looking at Adam like he's waiting for the punchline.
"Manicures mean love," Brad says from the doorway, towel slung around his shoulders and a pair of Adam's boxers hanging off his hips. "Believe me, baby boy, as soon as I can get my kit over here, I'm going to love you proper."
"Ummm," Kris says, looking back and forth between them. He's got his brows scrunched up and his wings are glittering brighter than normal and they're beating a little harder than they should be. Adam's awake enough to realize what that means and he feels his stomach drop.
Kris looks almost afraid and it can't be of Brad; Kris could run rings around Brad any day of the week and he was okay with Brad touching him last night. The only reason Kris could be looking so nervous is Adam or more precisely Adam's reaction. Adam bites his lip, because he's afraid of what this might mean. He remembers Brad's frown, the lucid snippets of the conversation and the sick feeling that seemed to start in his toes. Kris gives up too much for Adam already.
"I have a manicure set," Adam says, before Kris can freak out too much. "Why wait?"
"That isn't a manicure set," Brad sniffs haughtily. "That is a My Little Pony grooming kit with delusions of adequacy."
"Fuck you," Adam snorts and they're off, bickering and bitching. Kris finds out more than he ever needs to know about manicure sets until Adam's need for a shower starts to outweigh his need to prove Brad wrong.
When they go out that night, Adam wears one of the modified hoodies that Cassidy made for him and Kris rides along in the hood, talking to Brad (who isn't talking to Adam after Adam stole his lip gloss). They go to Cassidy's first, to get the introductions out of the way. Cassidy is really cool about it, he only asks what they've been smoking once and then when Kris hops shyly out of Adam's hood to land on the coffee table, Cass takes one look and it's love at first sight. Seriously, Adam swears he can see teeny tiny hearts in Cassidy's eyes.
"Oh my god!" Cassidy nearly knocks the coffee table over. "Oh, wow, hi! I'm Cassidy."
"Kris Allen," Kris says, smiling hopefully and holding out a hand as his wings fluff up, all golden and bright and Cassidy actually squeals, clapping his hands in delight before sweeping Kris up in an enthusiastic cuddle.
"Hey, no squishing him!" Adam says, alarmed. Cassidy snorts at him and loosens his grip enough that Adam isn't afraid for Kris' wings He still looks a little dazed when Cassidy lets him go and he flutters back to Adam's shoulder.
Cassidy demands the whole story and Brad only remembers the vaguest outline of what Adam said last night, so Adam winds up on Cassidy's couch with Kris in his lap, sharing an absolutely sinful chocolate butter cupcake while Cassidy and Brad sit on the coffee table firing off questions.
Alisan arrives like half an hour later and they have to start again, this time with Kris cuddled up to Alisan's chest and going ever deeper shades of scarlet. He tries to wiggle away once or twice but can't find anywhere safe to put his hands. It's equal parts adorable and hilarious. Adam finally takes Kris back before he can actually pass out from all the blood in his body relocating to his face, and they wind up not going out, just ordering in pizza. It's still an awesome night.
Things change after that, but not as much as Adam had dreaded. He gets Kris a cell phone - the smallest model he can find which still means like two thirds Kris' size. The saleslady throws in a free Bluetooth earpiece which is awesome, until Adam actually sees Kris trying to use it and drops a bottle of milk because he's laughing so hard. He also gets Kris a key to the apartment, then Brad gives him one after Adam confesses to accidentally locking Kris out that one time. Brad, the traitor, tells everyone else and by the end of the week, Kris has a whole bunch of keys. Adam is totally not jealous that Kris' bunch of keys is bigger than his.
Everyone wants Kris to hang out with them, which only really happens if Adam's there (Kris' preferred option) or Adam's at work and Kris is going to be home alone. Adam gains a new sympathy for his mom, since Kris keeps forgetting his keys or his phone or the piece of paper with directions to wherever he's going. The last is only a problem because Kris is too polite to call and ask for new directions. (Adam is going to have grey hair in no time.) He always remembers his guitar though.
Alisan takes him make-up shopping because Kris has an awesome eye for colors and he and Cassidy wage an unending war over what Kris is going to wear. Kris, to Adam's eternal bafflement, likes plaid and plain denim jeans and T-shirts. Cassidy thinks Kris should be wearing more glitter, more jewelery and that it would be criminal to hide the golden glitter under Kris' skin and sparkling off his wings. Cassidy develops a new pet philosophy; there should be more glitter on the clothes than on the person wearing the clothes.
Kris, who is far too nice for his own good, lets Cassidy dress him and comes out looking like a cross between a pie and a disco ball. He only ever wears the clothes for a few minutes, then changes as soon as he can. Adam's secretly relieved that even exposure to Adam's friends doesn't really change Kris. He's still home every night when Adam gets back, they still sing together in the shower and talk for like an hour in their room before they fall asleep. He quickly becomes the most popular person in their group and there's a part of Adam, which might be closer to the petulant 16 year old than Adam likes to admit, that is selfishly glad he stays Kris' best friend.
Kris tells him everything, including how Cassidy is teaching him to drive and Alisan is using Kris to prowl for new dates. They both love listening to him play and sing and Adam spends one precious Saturday off on an armchair in Cassidy's while Kris plays and Cassidy creates. He's so transparently happy that Adam firmly clamps down on the jealousy. It's stupid and childish and Adam even has a mantra that he says every night. "I am not 16. I am not pathetic. I am not locking Kris in the apartment."
Wicked wraps up a few weeks later and Adam's done really well out of it. He's got enough money to last months even if he doesn't get a job right away. With Kris' full support, Adam decides to take some time and just hang out while he thinks about where he's going to go next with his life. Brad, the second he hears Adam's free for a few weeks, immediately says "Burning Man. We should totally haul your ass to Burning Man."
Adam agrees and somehow, gets talked into asking Kris to come along too. Kris finally agrees to come like two days before, halfway through cleaning the apartment. "Someone needs to make sure you don't kill yourself when you're high."
It's a joke, or mostly a joke then. Burning Man turns out to be ...crazy. It's hot, forge heat from long before they actually arrive, all of them rattling along together in Adam's beloved beat-up clunker. Brad and Adam sing, Kris strumming along and the radio hissing and jumbling together a dozen different stations. They have a tent, or at least the makings of one. Adam has three extra crates of bottled water and some of the home-made, 120 proof whiskey from Mr Algernon who sings in the chorus line. Brad has weed, twinkies and some organic eyeliners too earthy and flaky to wear at home.
It's a trip. It's another world. It's indescribable.
The heat haze starts before dawn, wavering over the sand long after the sun sinks below a bloody horizon. The sunlight brings up whole new spectrums of color, turning even the slate grey sky of pre-dawn into this prism of color and facet. Kris, seen through the scope of Burning Man, becomes something fantastic. He's brilliant, golden light even when the moon washes away the colors in grey and silver and black, Kris is bright and vibrant and real. He's the thread that Adam follows through Burning Man, trailing Kris across the sand and stumbling over and into interesting people as he tries to close the distance between them.
Adam drinks water, eats brownies from the camping oven of the original version hippy grandmother two yurts and three tents down. He talks religion with a man who sees angels in the plumes of smoke from his cigarette. He fucks a man who is tattooed from his eyebrows to his toes in runes and astrological symbols while a woman chants Zen mantras and a gong and bell beat time. At night, he lies on his back, watching the stars flare and spiral like a Vincent van Gogh painting and talks to them.
Brad loses like ten pounds, whittled away to the essence of himself. Here in the heat and the void where there's no room for deceit or polite fictions, they find out that they really can be friends and Adam's exultant, dancing to the pounding beat of a drum circle under the moon and laughing like a coyote. They don't fuck but they nap together, curled into each other, a ying-yang of connected but separate flesh. It feels good, feels right and Adam tells Brad honestly that he loves him in front of a campfire while Brad threads plastic beads into his hair.
Kris, when Adam can see him not the sunshine-bright nimbus that surrounds him, looks like he's searching for something. In the painful brilliance of the desert and the over-saturated clarity of the colors, Adam is afraid that he'll lose Kris if he takes his eyes off him. So Kris chases colors and lights and Adam chases Kris. He winds up chasing Kris to the foot of the Man, Saturday night as the first torches are lit.
It ends like a dream, Adam doesn't remember breaking up the tent or packing up the hundred and one little trinkets that accumulated over the festival. He remembers getting behind the wheel, thumbs hooked in the wheel and the radio playing low while Brad slouches in the passenger seat, humming to himself. Kris is actually driving, wings fluttering and brushing just under Adam's chin on the corners. Adam is manning the pedals, responding to Kris' quiet nudges. Kris puts the cruise control on once they hit the highway and Adam subsides gratefully into a dreamy half-doze. It's like the five minutes of almost sleep after the snooze button, halfway between awake and unconscious.
There's a bump on the road and Adam wakes all the way back up. It's the first time he's been completely lucid since they turned off the highway. Kris is singing softly and it takes Adam a few seconds to realize that Kris is singing along with the radio. "-at have I done? I don't even know his last name,"
Adam tunes in, throat too dry to sing along. Kris is bopping along to the music, ass wiggling as he sings. He loves music in the same uncomplicated, joyous way he always has and it's cool to see it.
"I don't even know my last name~" Kris warbles as the song fades back into the DJ. There's a burst of applause from Brad and Adam lets go of the wheel to join in. Kris blushes and Brad sits up, pushing up his sunglasses.
"Sweet, in-drive entertainment now? Any chance of a show? I should have some dollar bills left."
Kris frowns at him, baffled and Adam wonders for the thousandth time how Kris has completely failed to pick up innuendo after months of exposure to Brad. "He wants you to take your clothes off, babe."
Brad leers and Kris actually squeaks, going red and glowering at Brad. "Hubba hubba, baby. Carrie Underwood gets me so hot."
"Carrie who?" Adam asks and they both blink at him.
"Philistine," Brad sniffs, full-on diva mode engaged. "You seriously don't recognize the greatest American Idol for the last few years?"
Adam vaguely remembers hearing about American Idol from a boy he had a non-relationship series of hook-ups with back before Wicked. It's possible that there's more there but he's still a little loopy from the onset of Culture shock and it's just not sinking in.
Brad snorts, "What rock have you been living under the last few months?"
"Glynda's," Adam deadpans and Kris giggles. Brad rolls his eyes.
"I don't even know how to express the chasm that is your awareness of the awesome that is American Idol."
There's a pause as they all try to follow that sentence's logic. Adam peers thoughtfully across at Brad. "I think I've been insulted. Maybe."
"Like I said," Brad snipes, fishing out a bottle of water from under his seat. "A Philistine."
"Some of us, sweet cheeks," Adam retorts, shifting in his seat so Kris can perch on his hands. "Were working for the last few years."
"Oh, bitch, you did not just call me lazy!"
They bicker for about five miles before Brad straightens up and says casually, "You know they're holding auditions for it later this month."
Adam looks over at him, leaving Kris to steer. "You thinking of going for it?"
He's proud of how matter-of-fact his tone of voice is but Brad doesn't laugh. "Yeah, actually. It's plastic pop, true, but think exposure. Access to record companies. Access to audiences. Get to the finals and you've got a record contract. Don't even try to tell me that shit isn't worth it."
"Mmm," Adam says and changes the subject. They sing along to the radio; Brad has apparently picked up the psychic ability to find *NSYNC songs on every station and he and Kris caterwaul happily until Adam's headache and Kris' empty stomach necessitate pulling into a rest stop.
Brad loses the impromptu rock-paper-scissors over who has to go in and pay. Adam can see the counter clerk getting wide-eyed and thinks that maybe he should have offered Brad a shirt. Kris is tucked up against the collar of Adam's t-shirt, almost invisible in the dust and glitter. Adam hums absently, watching the pump and swaying his hips a little to the beat.
"You should, you know," Kris says randomly and Adam pauses to twist his neck to some impossible angle to look down at him.
"Should what?"
"Go for that show."
Adam's eyebrows shoot up. "You think I should try out for American Idol? Did you keep some mushrooms? Cause a, you shouldn't be driving stoned and b, you should be sharing."
Kris squirms a little, looking out over the highway full of trucks and SUVs before looking up at Adam. "You...you're like crazily talented, man. You could win it, easy."
"America is not really ready for its Idol to be a flaming gay musical star," Adam points out.
Kris frowns at him, wings fluffing up indignantly and Adam reminds himself that snuggling Kris in public is not allowed even if he is being criminally adorable. "Even if that's true," and Adam loves Kris for thinking there is any way in which America's homophobia isn't virulent enough to send him home the first week, "Brad's right. You don't need to win to be scouted. They're going to take one look at you and they're going to be blown away. And I think it would suck if you lost that chance because you're afraid people won't like you."
Adam shakes his head and his hair flicks across Kris' face. Kris makes a face and Adam laughs. Kris thumps his shoulder and pouts when Adam winces. The pump clicks off and Adam gets back into the car as Brad emerges with an armful of sinfully tempting junk food and a wicked smirk. Adam flicks a glance through the window of the station and the clerk looks upright so Brad can't have blown more than his mind. Adam hopes.
He doesn't mention Idol until they're inching through LA traffic. Kris is half-asleep on his shoulder and Brad has his head tipped back. Adam's been thinking about it. He came to LA because he wanted to be a rockstar. He's stayed in LA because he can be himself here, out and glamorous and fuck the haters if they say anything. Kris' offhand comment has rankled the whole way home and Adam's honest enough to admit that it's because there's more truth to it than he wants to admit.
He stops outside the Wal*Mart halfway between their apartment and Brad's and stays in his seat when Brad and Kris stir. Brad opens his door, then pauses when Adam doesn't move. Kris makes a sleepy sound, half-question and Adam turns his head to look at them.
"You're right. Both of you," he takes a deep breath. "I'm going for it."
He spends the next few weeks practicing every song he can think of, singing until Kris threatens him with a frying pan. Kris makes him tea with honey and keeps sneaking throat sweets into his pockets. Brad and Cassidy take him out to get drunk when the stress makes him jittery and snappish. He's so wound up that he completely and utterly blanks the audition. If Brad hadn't come with him, Adam might have just left but he does and Adam doesn't. Instead he leaves with his Golden Ticket and a date in Hollywood.
His friends take him out to celebrate that night. It's kinda amazing because all Adam's friends coming out to celebrate? Means that they actually need to book out a club. There are that many people. It's really surreal and Adam spends the first hour kinda dazed from that and accepting drinks from all these people who he does actually know, he just never really kept count of them and he never ever imagined that there were so many people who'd be this happy to see him succeed. His parents are there, and Amy and Neil and even if he never makes it past Hollywood week, Adam thinks it was worth it for this wild evening.
By the second hour, the endless congratulatory drinks are really starting to tell and Adam wakes up on the futon in his mom's hotel room, Kris tucked under the pillow with his wings fanned out under Adam's hair. Then everything is a whirlwind of getting ready and packing (and repacking and re-repacking until Kris calls Cassidy and Brad and they confiscate his luggage and pack for him which is kinda mean).
Hollywood week is a blur. Adam is so focused on being good enough, projecting the right amount of glam and charm to hook this test audience into making him part of the Top 24 that he doesn't really register the other contenders at first. He's focused on performing and texting Kris who is watching at Brad's in the few minutes he's not talking to crew or cameras.
That's where Danny Gokey finds him and really, Adam thinks later, the whole thing wouldn't make a plausible sit-com script. He's been vaguely aware of Danny the whole day, talking to anyone who'd listen and even people who wouldn't. Adam had chalked him up as a blowhard and left it at that. He's tucked up into a corner, thumb flying across the number pad and when he sees footage later, he's smiling.
"Good news?" Danny's voice makes him jump. "Or just texting your girlfriend?"
"Just a friend," Adam's shoulders are tensing up a little. He doesn't know Danny but there's something about the tone that grates.
Danny gives him a big knowing smirk which makes Adam bristle automatically. "That's what I used to say about my wife. Are you sure you're just friends? Because, you know, she might not agree. I didn't figure it out for ages, nearly made it to the altar before she told me."
Adam keeps looking at his phone. "No, just a friend. You have friends, yeah?"
Danny pauses and Adam bites his tongue bloody to keep from saying anything else. The insult seems to skim right over his head, thankfully. "Just be sure she knows that, yeah."
"Kris and I aren't likely to get married anytime soon," Adam says sharp-sweet and crisp. "Didn't you notice that Prop 8 passed?"
Danny's jaw actually drops which is kinda a surprise; he'd always figured it was a stupid cliche. Adam has never actually seen someone's jaw literally drop; it makes Danny look stupid and concussed and Adam snaps his phone shut and moves away. He doesn't notice the all-pervasive cameras until after he makes it, sitting on the stool and concentrating fiercely on not toppling over backwards or puking. It's just another audition, he chants to himself but it isn't. Brad and Kris and all the others were right; this is huge. This is probably the best chance he's ever getting.
There's a guy sitting beside him looking kinda stunned and mostly scruffy. He seems nice and he's pinging a little on Adam's finely-honed gaydar. Adam's thinking that maybe he can at least get the guy's number when they go to commercial and he turns to look at Adam and says, in all seriousness, "You're a dickhead, you know that?"
"Excuse me?" Adam says, automatically falling into Queen Bitch mode.
"You," the guy pokes his shoulder and Adam twists away. "Are a dick, man. Danny's not the most socially skilled guy in the room but you had no right to treat him like that."
"Excuse me," Adam repeats, shoulders going back and eyes narrowing. "But the fuck is it your business?"
"We're all here to compete," the guy says. "That doesn't mean you have to be an ass about it."
"So he's an intrusive, homophobic asshole but it's my fault," Adam says coldly, folding his arms. "That's what you're trying to say here, is it?"
And that's how Adam meets David Cook. It's also the first real bit of tension in the show so it gets milked and Adam retreats to sulk in his hotel room. He wants to talk to Kris and he wants some of Kris' pancakes which are hell on his hips but heaven on his tongue and right now Adam wants to sulk and be spoilt and Kris is sitting on Cassidy's couch on speaker-phone and it's a rotten day that is finally thankfully over.
...Adam should really learn not to dare Brad like that, even when he's only thinking it.
Next
He wakes up on Cassidy's couch in the afternoon and there's a cup of coffee on the table beside him. Adam's brain feels like it's oozing down his throat and he's sticky and gross with sweat. There's a glass of water and he drinks it in one big gulp and groans queasily.
Cassidy shuffles in from the bedroom. "Oh thank god. Coffee."
"Mmm," Adam is cradling his own mug and slowly crawling towards awareness.
Cassidy comes to sit on the bit of couch that Adam isn't actually using and they just zone out in companionable silence until the coffee kicks in. Adam aches and his feet are one throbbing mass of aches and pains. He's going to be wearing sneakers for the next few days and ice-packs are in his not-so-far-future. Adam hopes he's got enough for a cab because there is no way he's walking home.
Cassidy finishes his coffee and blinks a little as he finishes waking up. He looks across at Adam and smiles. "So, you and Brad?"
"Me and who?"
"Brad? About so tall, brunet, hot-ass?" Cassidy is smirking and Adam thumps him weakly in the shoulder on pure reflex. "The dude you were grinding off for half the night?"
Adam's lips curve at the memory of sweat and music and motion. Oh yeah, he's going to remember that guy. "Brad? I didn't get a name."
"I'm guessing you got a number, you player you." Cassidy laughs when Adam fumbles for his phone.
"I don't have a Brad," Adam says after scrolling through his contacts list twice.
Cassidy stands up and collects the mugs. "Any new entries?"
"I don't think-" Adam breaks off to stare at his phone. "Okay, I have a 'Sparkles Blowjobs and Twink Delivery'? The fuck?"
"That sounds like Cheeks." Cassidy's voice floats out from the kitchen over the sound of running water. "Though he must really like you if he's offering blowjobs already."
"Cheeks?"
"Don't ask." Cassidy comes out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a scrap of faux fur. "Just call him sometime soon, yeah?"
Adam promises and Cassidy drops him home and Adam only remembers Kris when he goes into the bathroom and sees a faint golden glow through the frosted glass. He opens the window to find Kris crouched on the windowsill with his wings wrapped tightly around himself. He looks exhausted and half-frozen and Adam has to call his name three times before he responds. Adam's half a second from just opening the window the whole way and trying to grab Kris as he gets knocked off. There are things about their apartment that Adam hates.
Kris takes a minute to focus and even then, he doesn't fly through the window. He gets up and wobbles his way across the window sill and crawls under the window. Adam hovers, hands outstretched until Kris' wings open at last and he glides to the floor. "Kris?"
Kris ignores him, setting off across the bathroom floor with Adam trailing him. He's afraid to step any closer because he's still hungover enough that he doesn't trust his balance and if Kris can't - isn't - flying, he won't be able to dodge if Adam steps on him. Kris stops in front of the dresser, swaying a little as he frowns up at it. Adam feels like he should just pick Kris up but when he moves forward, Kris' head snaps around and he glares at Adam.
Adam steps back, hands up and Kris turns back to the dresser. His wings beat a couple of slow, hesitant sweeps then more strongly; enough that Kris bounces up high enough to catch the edge of the drawer and pull himself in. The bath towel rustles as he burrows in and Adam is left standing in the doorway, guilty and worried.
Kris doesn't talk to him for the rest of the day and only comes out to drink some water before disappearing back into his drawer. Adam spends the day puttering around and practicing a bit for the audition. He feels like an unwelcome guest which is nuts because technically this is his apartment, it says so on the lease.
By about eleven that night, he's worked his way to angry and he storms into the bedroom and bangs on Kris' drawer until Kris pops his head out of the bath towel to glare up at him. "Go away, Adam."
"No. You do not get to be a pissy little bitch and not tell me why!" Adam snaps.
"Pissy. Little. Bitch." Kris' voice flattens out completely and he pulls himself out of the bath towel, wings curling up and back. He's flushed and looks furious. Adam remembers suddenly that Kris is capable of carrying like three bags of groceries at once. "Let me just get this clear here. Wouldn't want any misunderstandings over this. You ditch me at the club. You don't even tell me you're leaving. You don't tell me where you're going. You don't leave me a key. You don't even leave a fucking window open. I have to sit on the bathroom window and hope that you come back before I freeze or the rats get me. I haven't eaten for a whole day. I'm so fucking cold that I'm only just starting to get feeling back in my wings. I haven't had any sleep since the night before yesterday. All I want is a little time alone and I'm the pissy bitch here?"
Adam flounders a little, it's the first time he's heard Kris swear and Kris is actually shaking with rage, or maybe exhaustion.
Kris shakes his head, wings drooping to hang heavily from his shoulders. "Just...go away, Adam. I'm too mad to be thinking straight right now. Let me sleep and tomorrow, I'll be glad you had a good time. Just...not now."
He pulls up the bath towel and his glow dims to the point when Adam can't see it even with the lights off. Adam can't let it go at that of course, he goes into the kitchen and gets a shot glass full of the pineapple juice that Kris insists they get and a toasted cheese sandwich which he slices up into like fifty little pieces. He goes back into the bedroom and taps quietly on the drawer.
"Kris?" No response and Adam juggles the hot plate and shot glass before it dawns on him that he can put them on the damn dresser, so he does that. "Look, I've been an asshole and I'm really sorry. We don't have to talk about it tonight but you need to eat something."
There's another long silence and Adam keeps his hands by his sides only with a great effort of will. "Please, babe. You have to eat."
Because Kris doesn't even eat as much as Adam but he needs to eat, told Adam why back on their first New Year's when they were both drunk from cheap-vodka and chocolate syrup milkshakes. That magic is like fire and it keeps burning, even when there isn't fuel and Kris eats so much because he doesn't have any other way to feed it and if he doesn't... Adam doesn't think Kris remembers the second half of the conversation, the stories of fairies who'd starved and burned altogether, dwindling into ash on the wind. One day shouldn't be fatal, can't be fatal; Adam won't let it be.
Kris crawls out of his bath towel and looks up at him for a few long seconds. Adam doesn't even breathe. Then Kris scrambles up to sit beside the plate and starts munching determinedly. Adam relaxes with a soft sigh. He gets up and gets a glass of water and a refill of juice for Kris before he brushes his teeth and cleans the last of last night's makeup off. When he comes back out, Kris spreads his wings and flies over to settle on his chest, snuggling into Adam's ratty old Bowie T-shirt with a sigh. Adam cuddles him close and sends up a silent prayer of thanks to anybody looking out for wannabe rock-stars and their stupid selfless best friends.
"You should call that guy," Kris says sleepily, sprawling out across Adam's chest like a kitten.
"Guy?"
"The guy-" Kris cracks his jaw as he yawns. "-that you were dancing with."
"Oh?" Adam smiles down at him.
"He made you happy," Kris mumbles as he snuggles in and Adam dips his head just enough to kiss Kris' hair before wiggling a little and closing his eyes.
He calls Brad the next afternoon and they talk for half an hour before Adam asks if Brad wants to get coffee. Brad does, after making like six dirty jokes in response and they wind up in Starbucks a few days later. They talk (flirt) for hours and Adam is still smiling when he goes for his audition. Kris tags along, lurking overhead in among the stage lights while Adam sings his heart out. He aces the whole thing and the director actually comes backstage to chat with him for a while and leaves with a smile on his face so Adam's fucking stoked.
He buys Kris a Grande Signature Hot Chocolate with extra whipped cream and laughs his ass off when Kris winds up looking like he's wearing a face mask.
When they get home, Adam checks the tin that they keep the cash in. There's still about four hundred dollars in there which is more than enough to pay for groceries and a kickass first 'official' date with Brad. He tells Kris that and Kris thinks for a second before agreeing.
"I posted the cash for the credit card bill so we should be fine for the next month at least." Kris grins at him. "Leave a hundred for emergencies and we should be golden until your last pay-check clears."
Adam stares at him, starry-eyed and Kris cracks up. "Yes, that means you can buy the boots."
Adam buys his new boots, takes Brad out for dinner and a wild night of clubbing and they wind up spending the night at Brad's apartment which is much bigger and airier than Adam's. They fuck the whole night and Adam can barely walk the next day. He has to carry Brad to the shower and leave him there for like an hour before Brad can walk (waddle) and Adam would feel guilty but Brad just smirks and drags him into a smoking hot kiss filled with dirty promises.
Adam has to walk like three blocks to find a taxi and he's wearing last night's clothes and smeared make-up and his hair is just a wreck and Adam can't stop smiling. He calls Brad that evening and they set up another date for Friday and Adam tells Kris all about it over a seriously late brunch. Kris laughs and throws a tea towel at his head and makes grossed out faces.
Being with Brad is crazy, awesome and Adam pretty much floats through the next few months. He's had crushes before but he's actually in love this time and everything is wonderful. Adam talks for hours about his boyfriend to his mom and Neil and his dad and Kris most of all because Kris can't hang up on him.
Since Adam is not actually a sixteen-year-old kid, he does have some sensible moments; he never goes out for anything stronger than coffee with Brad on the night before a show, he invites all his other friends out at least once a week and he keeps two nights a week free for Kris.
Brad introduces Adam to the LA that he'd dreamed of back when he was fat, spotty and fantasizing in San Diego. The clubs where you don't listen to the music, you feel it. The seedy bars, the shops with the blacked out windows and the graffiti that covers the ugly lumpy concrete slums and makes them fierce and vibrant and beautiful. Adam learns tarot, gets his wrist tattooed one night because he's high and it's a week before he has to go to work and sits crowded up between Brad and a girl with blonde dreadlocks down past her ass in a tiny fire hazard of a room while incense burns and a drum beats out steady pulse-rhythm.
Adam grows up, learns more about himself than he imagined existed and he is genuinely happy.
So he doesn't notice when it starts to go sour, not right away and not before it's too late.
They fight one day, the sort of fight that cold-cocks Adam and he only realizes months later how long it had been brewing. Brad is flirting with some blond twink who's even wearing his college football jersey and just for a second, Adam's fat and hopeless, stranded back in high school, watching the cool kids and wishing. He's drunk and just shy of being actually high and he says some stupid things. He doesn't mean them but he won't work that out until later. He still says them.
Brad, for the first time that Adam's known him, loses his shit. Right there on the dance floor and it takes five bouncers to drag them off the dance floor and throw them out. Brad storms off before Adam can say anything. Adam curses, uses every single dirty, rude word he knows and kicks over a dustbin.
He goes home because he's just clearheaded enough to know that if he stays out, he's going to get arrested. He slams the front door behind him, hard enough that he knocks the framed print off the wall, crappy plastic hook and all.
"Adam?" Kris comes skimming out of the bedroom, rumpled and worried and Adam only realizes he's crying when Kris' hand on his cheek comes away black.
Kris deserves a medal, he must have stayed up all night already but he takes over; steering Adam over to the couch, wings flapping hard and there was at least a few seconds there where Adam could swear that Kris actually bodily lifts him. With Adam safely deposited on the couch, Kris zips back into the kitchen and comes back with ice-cream and the vodka.
He bawls like a baby and Kris curls up against his heart and sings to him when his throat closes around the sobbing. Adam just pours it all out and Kris listens and is there. Adam passes out sometime between the millionth and the million and first iteration of 'oh god what have I done' and 'I'm going to die bitter and alone and no-one will ever love me'.
He wakes up to the sound of knocking on the door and Kris gets up which Adam can only tell by the loss of warmth just over his heart and the faint whir of his wings. Adam is still mostly asleep, just aware enough to register the sound of the door opening and Brad's "We're not fucking fin-"
Then Kris' voice, soft and savage in the way it just isn't normally. "Shut the fuck up."
"Holy fucking shit!" Brad sounds shrill and shaky, like he's coming down from a bad trip.
"Leave him alone. You want to fight, you do it tomorrow." There's light, bright enough that Adam sees red through his eyelids.
There's the sound of stumbling footsteps and the light goes out. No matter how hard Adam struggles, he's too drunk and too deeply asleep to wake the rest of the way up. He hangs on until the door clicks shut and Kris settles back over his heart. Adam turns his head a little, mouth opening to ask but he's asleep before he finishes breathing in.
He wakes with a killer hangover and his phone ringing. It's Danielle, wondering why the fuck he isn't in rehearsal. Adam spins some off the cuff bullshit about a 24-hour bug and swears on his favorite leather boots to be in tomorrow. Kris has coffee and bagels waiting for him and mothers him outrageously for the rest of the day.
Adam gets a call from Cassidy, offering commiserations about the meltdown between him and Brad. That's how Adam knows it's over.
The next few weeks are hell, pure and simple. He and Brad don't talk to each other. Their friends find out through the grapevine and it's awkward because they pretty share their entire social circle and no-one wants to get caught in the middle. It's not like Adam can blame them; he spends the first week at work or with Kris and Kris is the one who kicks him out on Friday night and steals his phone to send Cassidy a text inviting him out for a drink.
Adam feels hollow most the time, like there's nothing there but a sucking black hole. Brad's tangled up in the city, in Adam's friends, in his favorite places and everything's uncomfortable and miserable without him. Kris starts singing pretty much all the time, even dancing when Adam's depression threatens to topple over into suicidal. There's something inherently hilarious about watching a little golden fairy shaking his ass across the kitchen counter and Adam laughs as much as he cries. Adam's life picks up a soundtrack, courtesy of Kris Allen and gradually, he wins back his love of music.
Two months after he broke up with Brad, Adam gets a Christmas bonus in his check from Wicked. He's already bought most of the presents he wanted to get, Kris watches the budget carefully and has already added his own small wrapped bundles to his shoe-box. It's the one that came with Adam's first LA boots, since reclaimed by Kris. Kris doesn't talk much about his family or friends; all Adam really has are names and the occasional story. Times like these, he regrets that but he has no idea how to make Kris feel comfortable with talking to him about it after all these years.
So Adam doesn't ask where Kris is getting these presents or who they're for; he especially doesn't ask if Kris still wants to go home. It was different for Adam who moved out when he was ready to be his own person, Kris hasn't seen or spoken to another fairy since he met Adam. Adam's in a bleak enough mood that he blames himself for that and half-convinces himself that Kris is pining for home.
Then Kris makes him an eggnog latte with chocolate sprinkles and some homemade chocolate chip muffins, enough for the whole cast, just in time for him to take them to his last pre-Christmas show. He sneaks along, tucking himself in between the layers of Adam's cashmere scarf and providing a running commentary the whole way to the theater.
"That woman looks like she's going to pop, I hope she doesn't have bad blood pressure. Did you see that Santa Claus? I've never seen one with a leather outfit before. Those lights aren't in sync, it's messing with my head."
Adam chuckles and Kris' wing flicks against the bare skin at the back of his neck.
"I didn't think LA got this cold. Isn't the Equator supposed to be keeping us all sunny and shit?"
"Could be worse," Adam points out. "At least in LA, it's not going to snow. San Diego's actually got snow forecast."
"Snow is awesome," Kris insists and they argue about that for a couple of blocks until Adam turns into the alley leading to the stage door and Kris goes quiet. Adam drops the muffins into the green room, neatly diverting every one of his cast-mates out of the changing rooms for a few minutes while he strips off his normal clothes and makes sure Kris doesn't have frost-bite. Kris flits around, it's not his first time backstage but he's endlessly fascinated by it and Adam finishes changing.
"Why did you want to come anyway?"
"I wanted to hear you sing," Kris says matter-of-factly.
"You can hear me singing anytime. It's not like you aren't there when I practice," Adam points out.
"Not like you sing on stage," Kris says seriously. "And there's instruments and other singers and lights and-"
Adam looks up at him fondly, Kris is looping around the ceiling and not looking at him which means he's being shy. How Kris can still be shy about anything to do with Adam is a mystery that Adam simply cannot fathom. It's kind of awesome though because Kris is adorable but Kris when he's feeling shy is extra-super-adorable, like puppies and kittens squared adorable.
Kris stays near the flood lights, hiding his glow from everyone but Adam. He's there for the entire show and Adam suspects he's the instigator of at least one curtain call. He stays out of the way until Adam's said goodbye to everyone and scrubbed off as much of his make-up as he can before nestling into Adam's scarf and falling asleep. Adam walks home with Kris snoring softly against his neck and for the first time since the Fight, he feels...happy.
Adam puts Kris to bed when they get home and goes online with his laptop. Finding what he wants takes most of the night and costs most of Adam's bonus but it's perfect. Adam types in his parents' address and pays the extra for express shipping before crawling into bed.
They drive up to San Diego two days later and have duet sing-a-longs to the radio and Adam's ancient Micheal Jackson and David Bowie tapes. Adam is hoarse from singing by the time they pull in and he hugs his mom and gives her a real smile when she asks how he's been.
"It's been rough," he says honestly. "But I'm getting through it. I don't think I'm okay, not yet, but I will be, I know that."
"That's all anyone can ask, sweetheart," his mom says with a sad smile.
Neil is full of news and opinions about things like politics (Adam knows a little), foreign news (Adam knows less) and the stock market (Adam knows jack shit). They argue over DVDs and the cultural implications of watching a Christmas movie over Hanukkah and decide to watch one of the really shitty ones with popcorn so they can set up a drinking game.
Adam hands out presents over the eight days but he saves Kris' for Christmas. Kris' present this year is some seriously kickass silver jewelry, heavy bracelets with a different ring each night. It looks fierce and Adam spends an hour or so in his bathroom just posing with them.
He'd gotten Kris an iPod with a speaker system that he can plug it into and Kris does this dorky delighted wiggle that isn't exactly dancing but comes so close that's it's impossible to tell the difference. It's one of the tiny ones which makes it about half Kris' size and Adam laughs when Kris goes to sleep that night cuddling it like a teddy bear.
Kris' other present arrives on Boxing Day and Adam has to smuggle it up past his parents which gives him all sorts of flashbacks to his teenage self.
"What's in there?" Kris asks, fluttering over from where he'd been sprawled across a cushion.
"Your present." Adam says, setting it down to cut through the packing tape. Kris zooms over to hover by his shoulder.
"But you already bought me my present."
"This is the other half of it," Adam has to saw off a corner to actually get any of the tape unpicked. He slits the box open as carefully as possible. There's a book and another package, this time wrapped in insulation and taped solidly together. Adam holds out the book 'Teach Yourself Guitar In Fifteen Minutes A Day!'
Kris grabs it by the spine and flies it over to set down on the dresser, frowning a little. Adam can see him composing a polite thank you and rips off the last of the bubble wrap to reveal the tiny guitar. Kris freezes for a second then he's hovering over the guitar, wings brushing Adam's hand. "Is that-?"
"Fully functional," Adam says, smiling. "It's amazing what you can find on the internet these days."
Kris picks up the guitar reverently, wings trembling with excitement and cradles it. Adam can actually see sparkling stars in his eyes and Kris twangs some strings, frowning and twiddling the keys until it sounds like a proper guitar. He's utterly enraptured and Adam, sitting back with his weight on his hands, watches as Kris feels his way through a slow, stuttery version of 'Jingle Bells'.
The last note fades and Kris looks up. He has actual tears in his eyes but he's smiling, the wide amazed grin that scrunches up the corner of his eyes and Adam's answering smile isn't a choice, it's a compulsion. "Thank you. Thank you for-...just thank you."
Kris actually makes the guitar case himself, out of cardboard and an old chamois leather that Adam's had for years. It's safely stowed in the glove box when they leave for LA with a cooler full of food and it's the first thing Kris brings into the apartment, putting it carefully into his drawer before coming back out to help Adam with the rest of the bags.
January and February are a blur; there's a rash of colds and flus and the cast dwindles alarmingly. Adam spends a couple of weekends tucked up in a blanket with Kris feeding him soup and orange juice but he's one of the healthy ones which means he's working harder than he ever has in his life until March, when everyone's back and there's time to breathe.
Brad calls him on Saint Patrick's Day. Adam is hanging with Cassidy and the conversation is awkward but it isn't the bitter hostility that Adam was expecting. When Adam calls him back two days later to ask if Brad's visited the new club near the leather club (which is really a rhetorical question, of course he has) and what he thought of it, Brad's vicious dissection of the club, the music and clientèle has Adam in stitches for like an hour.
It's not that simple but they both want the friendship. Adam wouldn't mind the searing hot sex but he wasn't just in love with Brad, he loves him and cutting him out of his life would have sucked. Their friends are totally behind them and they manage the transition faster and smoother than Adam would have believed possible just a few months ago.
He's meeting Brad for coffee and a chat about Burning Man which Adam is going to try to get to this year. They're chatting until the cafe closes and it seems completely natural to just keep talking. Adam doesn't realize that Brad is steering him until they're actually on the stairs to his apartment.
"Ask me in, bitch." Brad says before Adam can come up with an excuse as to why he doesn't want to bring Brad in.
"I would," Adam parries. "But the red carpet's at the cleaners."
"I can slum it."
Then Brad's in the apartment and Adam takes a covert look around; there's a container of Chinese food, the door to the bedroom's ajar but there's no obvious sign of Kris. Brad keeps Adam talking for hours over coffee and Adam relaxes. They break out the makeup and the tequila (and why did Adam buy tequila?) and Adam is sprawled across the couch, giggling when Brad looks up from the eyeliner in his hand. "So, are you going to introduce me to your room-mate or what?"
"Kris?" Adam says before he can catch the word. Brad's smile goes sharkish and he sits back.
"Kris? The Kris? Your friend Kris?" Before Adam can figure out what the hell he should be saying, Brad looks around. "Kris? Come on, Kris. Are you here?"
The bedroom lights up and Brad smiles wide. Adam is frozen in place, heart pounding like a jackhammer, violent gulps of movement that shake through him. Kris comes into the main room, glowing just a little brighter than normal; enough that Adam can't read his expression. Every instinct Adam has is screaming at him to throw Brad out and lie, pretend that this never happened.
Kris stays back, hovering about three feet from the couch. Brad is staring at him, his typical smirk not quite in place. Adam covers his face with his hands and tries to wish himself sober.
"You are Kris, right?" Brad asks eventually.
"Right," Kris says cautiously.
"Oh, thank god, I was starting to think you couldn't speak." Adam looks up in time to see Brad holding out his hand. "Brad Bell, at your service."
"Um, Kris Allen. Nice to meet you." Kris comes close enough to shake Brad's hand and Brad draws him closer to the couch.
"So where did Adam find you?" Brad asks, sitting back to cross his ankles and study Kris with unconcealed fascination.
"Um, there was a camping trip and some weed," Kris perches on the back of the couch and looks between them. He's chewing his lower lip and Adam sits back up reluctantly.
"Adam, you corrupter of innocent youth!" Brad give him an arch look. "You do realize that makes you the poster boy for the Lunatic Right's image of gays, yes?"
"Hey," Adam objects, "I was sixteen and I was ginger and fat and ugly-"
"You were not ugly!" Kris interrupts and Brad looks down at him with an expression that Adam's never seen on him before.
"Oh, baby," Brad coos, reaching out to pet Kris' wings and looking enchanted when they do that weird flip/fluffing thing that they always do when someone touches them. "You are just a gem, aren't you?"
It's at this point that Adam decides he needs more booze. Lots and lots more booze. This isn't going to be a night he wants to remember. There's only another two bottles of booze and a bottle of beer that Adam got for Kris to have during the football season. Even the emergency liquor bottle is empty. Adam is still distressingly sober when he comes back to find Brad painting Kris' nails. Kris, who is already drunk on three shots of vodka, is perched on the point of Brad's knee, giggling a little as Brad pets his wings and talks colors
"Definitely a summer, I think," Brad says, considering. "No, don't move, babe. That's gotta dry first."
Kris hums disapproval, his wings shivering in annoyance. Adam rubs along his back with the tip of his finger and Kris leans back against him. Brad quirks an eyebrow at Adam who absolutely does not glare at him. Kris is a tactile guy, Adam's known that for years. It would be stupid to get jealous of the way he's sprawled across Brad.
Adam grits his teeth and doesn't say anything. Brad is chatting with Kris, who is still nervous but getting animated as Brad prods genuine answers out of him. It's disconcerting to be reminded that Brad's only a queen bitch because he wants to be. Brad is really working the charm. He's putting serious effort into getting Kris to respond and Kris gets won over despite the fact that Kris doesn't really like Brad. (It's not personal, Kris just defaults to being on Adam's side in any given argument.)
An hour later and Kris is asleep in a tangled nest made of one of Adam's hoodies and Brad's scarf. He's snoring a little, which Kris doesn't normally do and Adam has a protective arm around the Kris/clothes bundle. Brad has gone quiet, looking down at Kris with dark, unreadable eyes as he sips from a bottle of water.
"How long has he been living with you?" Brad asks, something confusing and grim in his voice and is he jealous?
Adam is too drowsy-drunk to resist and he has to think for a few minutes because his life before he had Kris doesn't feel like it was his life. "Six, six and a half years. I was sixteen."
"Does anyone else know about him?" Brad's pressing his lips together, looking more serious.
"No," Adam says, tracing the edge of Kris' wing with an unsteady fingertip and wondering if he's drunker than he thinks he is. "He stays with me most of the time and it's not safe."
"Not safe? Why not safe?" Brad pokes.
Adam scowls at him. "People will see him! 'Course it's not safe."
"What, you're afraid they're going to lock him in a zoo or something?" Brad says incredulously. "Oh sweetheart, that's so...eighties film writer of you."
Adam glowers because he can't make his mind work long enough to organize his jumbled thoughts into words that Brad will understand.
"He goes to your shows? Your rehearsals?" Brad presses and Adam's got the feeling that Brad is steering this conversation somewhere but he's too tired, too drunk and too pissed at Brad for coming barging in and painting Kris' nails to actually give a fuck.
"Sometimes he comes to the show," Adam says absently. "Not rehearsals. He can't hide when the stage lights aren't all on."
"Just so's I'm clear here," Brad puts down his bottle of water and turns to face Adam head-on. "You find a fairy, take him home-"
"I told you, there was weed involved," Adam waves his free hand. "I didn't mean to kidnap him!"
"-you kidnapped him?" Brad is scowling now, voice sharp enough that Kris stirs, brows drawing down and mumbles a little. They both freeze. Brad waits until he's settled again before continuing in a quiet, vicious tone. "You kidnap a fairy, take him home, keep him in your bedroom, only let him out when it doesn't inconvenience you and you can't see a problem with this?"
"It's not like that," Adam protests, because it isn't; Brad makes it sound cruel and Adam's not a saint but Kris is his best friend and Adam's always tried his best to make him happy.
"I think it's exactly like that," Brad looks down at Kris and shakes his head. "You can't keep doing this to him, Adam."
"I'm not doing anything to him," Adam says sulkily, hugging Kris' bundle a little tighter.
"That's the point," Brad snaps then he sighs and rubs his face, smearing his makeup a little and wow, this really is serious because Adam has never seen Brad mess up his make-up, like, ever. "Adam...look, doesn't he deserve to have something other than you in his life? People to hang out with when you're not there? Places to go when you sexile him?"
"I don't bring guys back here," Adam objects because that's the first thing Brad's said that doesn't have the ring of truth.
"No, you just stay out all night," Brad says, daring Adam to contradict him. Adam can't; Brad knows he's done that, been the cause most of the times Adam wound up staying out all night. Brad looks at him, chin on hand. "Baby, I'm not saying you have to give him up. No-one's going to take him away."
"Then what are you saying," Adam demands, Kris and hoody now tucked up against him protectively.
"I'm saying that he should have options," Brad says simply. "You know Cassidy would love him to pieces and Alisan would adore him. I'm not suggesting you take an ad in the LA Times or anything crazy, just that you stop locking him in your apartment and let him out to stretch his wings."
"I guess," Adam admits grudgingly, slouching in his seat and closing his eyes. He's not talking about this with Brad any more. He's planning just to keep his eyes closed until Brad gets the point but he's shattered and he winds up falling asleep right there on the couch.
Kris knows Adam's weakness far too well; Adam comes awake the next morning to the delicious smell of bacon sizzling and Brad groans and rolls off the couch and Adam laughs reflexively because it's kind of amazing to see Brad all rumpled and with his make-up smeared and his hair looking like the Lion's mane from Oz.
Brad flips him off, running fingers through his hair and rubbing his eyes. "Just for that, bitch, I'mma shower first."
Adam can't really argue with that. He points Brad towards the towels and slouches into the kitchen/dining room where Kris is zooming around the kitchen. "It is totally not fair that you don't get hangovers."
"I get to live with you being hungover," Kris points out, carrying a glass of water and some aspirin. "I think I suffer enough."
"Mmmm," Adam gulps down the water and the pills and leans back against the counter.
"So, um, Brad seems nice?" Kris says tentatively, flitting around the frying pan and the toaster.
Adam laughs again, because Brad, Brad is wonderful and lovely and has unexpected depths of loyalty and kindness but "Brad is a bitch. I think he liked you, though."
"You think so?" Kris is carefully not looking at him, wielding the antique fork from the set Adam bought at a second-hand store. It's like an inch longer than Kris is tall and it's hilarious to watch him using it (even if Adam has learnt better than to actually laugh at him. Kris isn't just fast, he's vicious when he's pissed).
"He was painting your nails," Adam points out and Kris shoots him a wary glance over his shoulder. "Of course he likes you."
"Painting my nails means he likes me?" Kris says, not entirely convinced and looking at Adam like he's waiting for the punchline.
"Manicures mean love," Brad says from the doorway, towel slung around his shoulders and a pair of Adam's boxers hanging off his hips. "Believe me, baby boy, as soon as I can get my kit over here, I'm going to love you proper."
"Ummm," Kris says, looking back and forth between them. He's got his brows scrunched up and his wings are glittering brighter than normal and they're beating a little harder than they should be. Adam's awake enough to realize what that means and he feels his stomach drop.
Kris looks almost afraid and it can't be of Brad; Kris could run rings around Brad any day of the week and he was okay with Brad touching him last night. The only reason Kris could be looking so nervous is Adam or more precisely Adam's reaction. Adam bites his lip, because he's afraid of what this might mean. He remembers Brad's frown, the lucid snippets of the conversation and the sick feeling that seemed to start in his toes. Kris gives up too much for Adam already.
"I have a manicure set," Adam says, before Kris can freak out too much. "Why wait?"
"That isn't a manicure set," Brad sniffs haughtily. "That is a My Little Pony grooming kit with delusions of adequacy."
"Fuck you," Adam snorts and they're off, bickering and bitching. Kris finds out more than he ever needs to know about manicure sets until Adam's need for a shower starts to outweigh his need to prove Brad wrong.
When they go out that night, Adam wears one of the modified hoodies that Cassidy made for him and Kris rides along in the hood, talking to Brad (who isn't talking to Adam after Adam stole his lip gloss). They go to Cassidy's first, to get the introductions out of the way. Cassidy is really cool about it, he only asks what they've been smoking once and then when Kris hops shyly out of Adam's hood to land on the coffee table, Cass takes one look and it's love at first sight. Seriously, Adam swears he can see teeny tiny hearts in Cassidy's eyes.
"Oh my god!" Cassidy nearly knocks the coffee table over. "Oh, wow, hi! I'm Cassidy."
"Kris Allen," Kris says, smiling hopefully and holding out a hand as his wings fluff up, all golden and bright and Cassidy actually squeals, clapping his hands in delight before sweeping Kris up in an enthusiastic cuddle.
"Hey, no squishing him!" Adam says, alarmed. Cassidy snorts at him and loosens his grip enough that Adam isn't afraid for Kris' wings He still looks a little dazed when Cassidy lets him go and he flutters back to Adam's shoulder.
Cassidy demands the whole story and Brad only remembers the vaguest outline of what Adam said last night, so Adam winds up on Cassidy's couch with Kris in his lap, sharing an absolutely sinful chocolate butter cupcake while Cassidy and Brad sit on the coffee table firing off questions.
Alisan arrives like half an hour later and they have to start again, this time with Kris cuddled up to Alisan's chest and going ever deeper shades of scarlet. He tries to wiggle away once or twice but can't find anywhere safe to put his hands. It's equal parts adorable and hilarious. Adam finally takes Kris back before he can actually pass out from all the blood in his body relocating to his face, and they wind up not going out, just ordering in pizza. It's still an awesome night.
Things change after that, but not as much as Adam had dreaded. He gets Kris a cell phone - the smallest model he can find which still means like two thirds Kris' size. The saleslady throws in a free Bluetooth earpiece which is awesome, until Adam actually sees Kris trying to use it and drops a bottle of milk because he's laughing so hard. He also gets Kris a key to the apartment, then Brad gives him one after Adam confesses to accidentally locking Kris out that one time. Brad, the traitor, tells everyone else and by the end of the week, Kris has a whole bunch of keys. Adam is totally not jealous that Kris' bunch of keys is bigger than his.
Everyone wants Kris to hang out with them, which only really happens if Adam's there (Kris' preferred option) or Adam's at work and Kris is going to be home alone. Adam gains a new sympathy for his mom, since Kris keeps forgetting his keys or his phone or the piece of paper with directions to wherever he's going. The last is only a problem because Kris is too polite to call and ask for new directions. (Adam is going to have grey hair in no time.) He always remembers his guitar though.
Alisan takes him make-up shopping because Kris has an awesome eye for colors and he and Cassidy wage an unending war over what Kris is going to wear. Kris, to Adam's eternal bafflement, likes plaid and plain denim jeans and T-shirts. Cassidy thinks Kris should be wearing more glitter, more jewelery and that it would be criminal to hide the golden glitter under Kris' skin and sparkling off his wings. Cassidy develops a new pet philosophy; there should be more glitter on the clothes than on the person wearing the clothes.
Kris, who is far too nice for his own good, lets Cassidy dress him and comes out looking like a cross between a pie and a disco ball. He only ever wears the clothes for a few minutes, then changes as soon as he can. Adam's secretly relieved that even exposure to Adam's friends doesn't really change Kris. He's still home every night when Adam gets back, they still sing together in the shower and talk for like an hour in their room before they fall asleep. He quickly becomes the most popular person in their group and there's a part of Adam, which might be closer to the petulant 16 year old than Adam likes to admit, that is selfishly glad he stays Kris' best friend.
Kris tells him everything, including how Cassidy is teaching him to drive and Alisan is using Kris to prowl for new dates. They both love listening to him play and sing and Adam spends one precious Saturday off on an armchair in Cassidy's while Kris plays and Cassidy creates. He's so transparently happy that Adam firmly clamps down on the jealousy. It's stupid and childish and Adam even has a mantra that he says every night. "I am not 16. I am not pathetic. I am not locking Kris in the apartment."
Wicked wraps up a few weeks later and Adam's done really well out of it. He's got enough money to last months even if he doesn't get a job right away. With Kris' full support, Adam decides to take some time and just hang out while he thinks about where he's going to go next with his life. Brad, the second he hears Adam's free for a few weeks, immediately says "Burning Man. We should totally haul your ass to Burning Man."
Adam agrees and somehow, gets talked into asking Kris to come along too. Kris finally agrees to come like two days before, halfway through cleaning the apartment. "Someone needs to make sure you don't kill yourself when you're high."
It's a joke, or mostly a joke then. Burning Man turns out to be ...crazy. It's hot, forge heat from long before they actually arrive, all of them rattling along together in Adam's beloved beat-up clunker. Brad and Adam sing, Kris strumming along and the radio hissing and jumbling together a dozen different stations. They have a tent, or at least the makings of one. Adam has three extra crates of bottled water and some of the home-made, 120 proof whiskey from Mr Algernon who sings in the chorus line. Brad has weed, twinkies and some organic eyeliners too earthy and flaky to wear at home.
It's a trip. It's another world. It's indescribable.
The heat haze starts before dawn, wavering over the sand long after the sun sinks below a bloody horizon. The sunlight brings up whole new spectrums of color, turning even the slate grey sky of pre-dawn into this prism of color and facet. Kris, seen through the scope of Burning Man, becomes something fantastic. He's brilliant, golden light even when the moon washes away the colors in grey and silver and black, Kris is bright and vibrant and real. He's the thread that Adam follows through Burning Man, trailing Kris across the sand and stumbling over and into interesting people as he tries to close the distance between them.
Adam drinks water, eats brownies from the camping oven of the original version hippy grandmother two yurts and three tents down. He talks religion with a man who sees angels in the plumes of smoke from his cigarette. He fucks a man who is tattooed from his eyebrows to his toes in runes and astrological symbols while a woman chants Zen mantras and a gong and bell beat time. At night, he lies on his back, watching the stars flare and spiral like a Vincent van Gogh painting and talks to them.
Brad loses like ten pounds, whittled away to the essence of himself. Here in the heat and the void where there's no room for deceit or polite fictions, they find out that they really can be friends and Adam's exultant, dancing to the pounding beat of a drum circle under the moon and laughing like a coyote. They don't fuck but they nap together, curled into each other, a ying-yang of connected but separate flesh. It feels good, feels right and Adam tells Brad honestly that he loves him in front of a campfire while Brad threads plastic beads into his hair.
Kris, when Adam can see him not the sunshine-bright nimbus that surrounds him, looks like he's searching for something. In the painful brilliance of the desert and the over-saturated clarity of the colors, Adam is afraid that he'll lose Kris if he takes his eyes off him. So Kris chases colors and lights and Adam chases Kris. He winds up chasing Kris to the foot of the Man, Saturday night as the first torches are lit.
It ends like a dream, Adam doesn't remember breaking up the tent or packing up the hundred and one little trinkets that accumulated over the festival. He remembers getting behind the wheel, thumbs hooked in the wheel and the radio playing low while Brad slouches in the passenger seat, humming to himself. Kris is actually driving, wings fluttering and brushing just under Adam's chin on the corners. Adam is manning the pedals, responding to Kris' quiet nudges. Kris puts the cruise control on once they hit the highway and Adam subsides gratefully into a dreamy half-doze. It's like the five minutes of almost sleep after the snooze button, halfway between awake and unconscious.
There's a bump on the road and Adam wakes all the way back up. It's the first time he's been completely lucid since they turned off the highway. Kris is singing softly and it takes Adam a few seconds to realize that Kris is singing along with the radio. "-at have I done? I don't even know his last name,"
Adam tunes in, throat too dry to sing along. Kris is bopping along to the music, ass wiggling as he sings. He loves music in the same uncomplicated, joyous way he always has and it's cool to see it.
"I don't even know my last name~" Kris warbles as the song fades back into the DJ. There's a burst of applause from Brad and Adam lets go of the wheel to join in. Kris blushes and Brad sits up, pushing up his sunglasses.
"Sweet, in-drive entertainment now? Any chance of a show? I should have some dollar bills left."
Kris frowns at him, baffled and Adam wonders for the thousandth time how Kris has completely failed to pick up innuendo after months of exposure to Brad. "He wants you to take your clothes off, babe."
Brad leers and Kris actually squeaks, going red and glowering at Brad. "Hubba hubba, baby. Carrie Underwood gets me so hot."
"Carrie who?" Adam asks and they both blink at him.
"Philistine," Brad sniffs, full-on diva mode engaged. "You seriously don't recognize the greatest American Idol for the last few years?"
Adam vaguely remembers hearing about American Idol from a boy he had a non-relationship series of hook-ups with back before Wicked. It's possible that there's more there but he's still a little loopy from the onset of Culture shock and it's just not sinking in.
Brad snorts, "What rock have you been living under the last few months?"
"Glynda's," Adam deadpans and Kris giggles. Brad rolls his eyes.
"I don't even know how to express the chasm that is your awareness of the awesome that is American Idol."
There's a pause as they all try to follow that sentence's logic. Adam peers thoughtfully across at Brad. "I think I've been insulted. Maybe."
"Like I said," Brad snipes, fishing out a bottle of water from under his seat. "A Philistine."
"Some of us, sweet cheeks," Adam retorts, shifting in his seat so Kris can perch on his hands. "Were working for the last few years."
"Oh, bitch, you did not just call me lazy!"
They bicker for about five miles before Brad straightens up and says casually, "You know they're holding auditions for it later this month."
Adam looks over at him, leaving Kris to steer. "You thinking of going for it?"
He's proud of how matter-of-fact his tone of voice is but Brad doesn't laugh. "Yeah, actually. It's plastic pop, true, but think exposure. Access to record companies. Access to audiences. Get to the finals and you've got a record contract. Don't even try to tell me that shit isn't worth it."
"Mmm," Adam says and changes the subject. They sing along to the radio; Brad has apparently picked up the psychic ability to find *NSYNC songs on every station and he and Kris caterwaul happily until Adam's headache and Kris' empty stomach necessitate pulling into a rest stop.
Brad loses the impromptu rock-paper-scissors over who has to go in and pay. Adam can see the counter clerk getting wide-eyed and thinks that maybe he should have offered Brad a shirt. Kris is tucked up against the collar of Adam's t-shirt, almost invisible in the dust and glitter. Adam hums absently, watching the pump and swaying his hips a little to the beat.
"You should, you know," Kris says randomly and Adam pauses to twist his neck to some impossible angle to look down at him.
"Should what?"
"Go for that show."
Adam's eyebrows shoot up. "You think I should try out for American Idol? Did you keep some mushrooms? Cause a, you shouldn't be driving stoned and b, you should be sharing."
Kris squirms a little, looking out over the highway full of trucks and SUVs before looking up at Adam. "You...you're like crazily talented, man. You could win it, easy."
"America is not really ready for its Idol to be a flaming gay musical star," Adam points out.
Kris frowns at him, wings fluffing up indignantly and Adam reminds himself that snuggling Kris in public is not allowed even if he is being criminally adorable. "Even if that's true," and Adam loves Kris for thinking there is any way in which America's homophobia isn't virulent enough to send him home the first week, "Brad's right. You don't need to win to be scouted. They're going to take one look at you and they're going to be blown away. And I think it would suck if you lost that chance because you're afraid people won't like you."
Adam shakes his head and his hair flicks across Kris' face. Kris makes a face and Adam laughs. Kris thumps his shoulder and pouts when Adam winces. The pump clicks off and Adam gets back into the car as Brad emerges with an armful of sinfully tempting junk food and a wicked smirk. Adam flicks a glance through the window of the station and the clerk looks upright so Brad can't have blown more than his mind. Adam hopes.
He doesn't mention Idol until they're inching through LA traffic. Kris is half-asleep on his shoulder and Brad has his head tipped back. Adam's been thinking about it. He came to LA because he wanted to be a rockstar. He's stayed in LA because he can be himself here, out and glamorous and fuck the haters if they say anything. Kris' offhand comment has rankled the whole way home and Adam's honest enough to admit that it's because there's more truth to it than he wants to admit.
He stops outside the Wal*Mart halfway between their apartment and Brad's and stays in his seat when Brad and Kris stir. Brad opens his door, then pauses when Adam doesn't move. Kris makes a sleepy sound, half-question and Adam turns his head to look at them.
"You're right. Both of you," he takes a deep breath. "I'm going for it."
He spends the next few weeks practicing every song he can think of, singing until Kris threatens him with a frying pan. Kris makes him tea with honey and keeps sneaking throat sweets into his pockets. Brad and Cassidy take him out to get drunk when the stress makes him jittery and snappish. He's so wound up that he completely and utterly blanks the audition. If Brad hadn't come with him, Adam might have just left but he does and Adam doesn't. Instead he leaves with his Golden Ticket and a date in Hollywood.
His friends take him out to celebrate that night. It's kinda amazing because all Adam's friends coming out to celebrate? Means that they actually need to book out a club. There are that many people. It's really surreal and Adam spends the first hour kinda dazed from that and accepting drinks from all these people who he does actually know, he just never really kept count of them and he never ever imagined that there were so many people who'd be this happy to see him succeed. His parents are there, and Amy and Neil and even if he never makes it past Hollywood week, Adam thinks it was worth it for this wild evening.
By the second hour, the endless congratulatory drinks are really starting to tell and Adam wakes up on the futon in his mom's hotel room, Kris tucked under the pillow with his wings fanned out under Adam's hair. Then everything is a whirlwind of getting ready and packing (and repacking and re-repacking until Kris calls Cassidy and Brad and they confiscate his luggage and pack for him which is kinda mean).
Hollywood week is a blur. Adam is so focused on being good enough, projecting the right amount of glam and charm to hook this test audience into making him part of the Top 24 that he doesn't really register the other contenders at first. He's focused on performing and texting Kris who is watching at Brad's in the few minutes he's not talking to crew or cameras.
That's where Danny Gokey finds him and really, Adam thinks later, the whole thing wouldn't make a plausible sit-com script. He's been vaguely aware of Danny the whole day, talking to anyone who'd listen and even people who wouldn't. Adam had chalked him up as a blowhard and left it at that. He's tucked up into a corner, thumb flying across the number pad and when he sees footage later, he's smiling.
"Good news?" Danny's voice makes him jump. "Or just texting your girlfriend?"
"Just a friend," Adam's shoulders are tensing up a little. He doesn't know Danny but there's something about the tone that grates.
Danny gives him a big knowing smirk which makes Adam bristle automatically. "That's what I used to say about my wife. Are you sure you're just friends? Because, you know, she might not agree. I didn't figure it out for ages, nearly made it to the altar before she told me."
Adam keeps looking at his phone. "No, just a friend. You have friends, yeah?"
Danny pauses and Adam bites his tongue bloody to keep from saying anything else. The insult seems to skim right over his head, thankfully. "Just be sure she knows that, yeah."
"Kris and I aren't likely to get married anytime soon," Adam says sharp-sweet and crisp. "Didn't you notice that Prop 8 passed?"
Danny's jaw actually drops which is kinda a surprise; he'd always figured it was a stupid cliche. Adam has never actually seen someone's jaw literally drop; it makes Danny look stupid and concussed and Adam snaps his phone shut and moves away. He doesn't notice the all-pervasive cameras until after he makes it, sitting on the stool and concentrating fiercely on not toppling over backwards or puking. It's just another audition, he chants to himself but it isn't. Brad and Kris and all the others were right; this is huge. This is probably the best chance he's ever getting.
There's a guy sitting beside him looking kinda stunned and mostly scruffy. He seems nice and he's pinging a little on Adam's finely-honed gaydar. Adam's thinking that maybe he can at least get the guy's number when they go to commercial and he turns to look at Adam and says, in all seriousness, "You're a dickhead, you know that?"
"Excuse me?" Adam says, automatically falling into Queen Bitch mode.
"You," the guy pokes his shoulder and Adam twists away. "Are a dick, man. Danny's not the most socially skilled guy in the room but you had no right to treat him like that."
"Excuse me," Adam repeats, shoulders going back and eyes narrowing. "But the fuck is it your business?"
"We're all here to compete," the guy says. "That doesn't mean you have to be an ass about it."
"So he's an intrusive, homophobic asshole but it's my fault," Adam says coldly, folding his arms. "That's what you're trying to say here, is it?"
And that's how Adam meets David Cook. It's also the first real bit of tension in the show so it gets milked and Adam retreats to sulk in his hotel room. He wants to talk to Kris and he wants some of Kris' pancakes which are hell on his hips but heaven on his tongue and right now Adam wants to sulk and be spoilt and Kris is sitting on Cassidy's couch on speaker-phone and it's a rotten day that is finally thankfully over.
...Adam should really learn not to dare Brad like that, even when he's only thinking it.
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