Paint Me A Birmingham
Title: Paint Me A Birmingham
Author: Emilie, or any of my 200 different usernames.
Rating: R -- all language
Pairing: Kris Allen/Adam Lambert
Length: 1049 words
Summary: Allison doesn't handle conflict well.
Warnings/Notes: Violence, protesters, crying, swearing. Title comes from a completely unrelated song by Tracy Lawrence.
Adam slams his book closed when Allison bursts into the room. The wonky formatting isn't helping his headache, and he knows how it ends anyway. He cringes as the door rebounds against the wall a couple times before stilling. "Fuck them," Allison growls. Adam's eyes are closed, but he assumes there is another person in the room.
Kris, he realizes when he hears the sigh of frustration, and the calm "Allison, ignore them." Kris's sneakers are all but silent as he crosses the room and pats at Adam's legs, knowing that he's awake. Adam doesn't get up, just lifts his legs enough for Kris to sit down, before resting them in his lap. Kris's hand rests on his knee, and he asks his question without opening his eyes. "What, or whom, is Allison fucking?"
"The goddam protesters," she continues to rage. "I can't fucking believe those motherfuckers." Adam thinks maybe he should be scolding her for her language, then realizes it's at least partially his fault and chooses to remain silent. "Fucking hell. I don't even give a fuck that they're out there bitching about me, but fuck." Allison is growling, literally, low in her throat.
"Allie, calm down," Kris says again. "All the swearing in the world isn't going to stop them. They aren't going suddenly see what we see." Kris is petting his leg affectionately, probably without realizing he's doing it. Allison knows, even if the others can only suspect.
"Still..." she says, her voice still high and angry.
"Wait," Adam finally speaks up. "What are they saying about Allie?" He opens his eyes to find them both looking guilty and resigned. He figures they're about to refuse to tell him. "You have all of ten seconds before I go out there and find out for myself," he threatens. Kris stops petting, and his now still hand grips tightly at Adam's calf. He knows how Adam is going to react, and he hopes that he can move fast enough to stop him.
"They're calling her a fag enabler," Kris tells him. "Adam, don't move," he says. It sounds more like he's warning him, than requesting. "You're gonna stay right here on this couch."
"Like hell I am," he snaps. "They can bitch about me all the fuck they want, I've heard it all, but they don't get to bash a little girl." Allison snorts from the doorway.
"Adam, going out there isn't going to help anything, now stay." His tone has gone from warning to that of someone scolding a puppy. "Allison isn't that little, and she's already punched one of them. No more violence." Adam cranes his neck to see Allison flexing her hand, wincing.
At some point, Allison leaves, and Kris can only hope that Michael is still around to restrain her. Adam remains silent, almost enough so that Kris would think he's sleeping if his breathing weren't quite so fast. Kris watches, brows furrowed, trying to determine how Adam really feels about the situation they've found themselves in. Kris ignores his own self-loathing ( they should be protesting us both, he thinks) when he realizes that Adam is sobbing, quietly, and without tears. He can't tell if it's anger, or sadness. Disgust, or frustration, but it breaks his heart all the same.
He reaches for Adam's hand, running his thumb across the back of it, trying to comfort him without really knowing what demons he is dealing with. "It'll be okay," Kris whispers, shifting slightly to check his phone when it vibrates midsentence. It's a text from Michael,
didn't restrain 'er, they had it comin'
"Looks like Allison's done it again," he mumbles to himself. "Baby, can I get up? Will you be okay until I get back? I don't want you to do anything irrational." He knows that it's a pointless question, when Adam's upset he draws into himself. Kris figures he'll probably wind up guiding him, half asleep, to the bus later. He still waits for permission.
"Yea." Adam is always soft spoken, but Kris feels his heart breaking all over again when he hears the flat tone of his voice. He moves his legs enough so that Kris can get up.
"I'll be right back," Kris promises, hurrying out of the room to see what exactly had been done that Michael and the others hadn't stopped Allison from leveling another protester, all but force feeding them their picket signs. He's never seen her quite so angry as when he entered the hall and saw her sitting next to Megan. "Wha..."
"They told Mom she should keep me away from him, and that they hoped he wasn't allowed near the younger kids," Allison fumes, allowing Megan to hold a bag of ice on her hand. Megan looks scared and saddened. Everyone is shaken by the protesters' complete hatred. No one can grasp hating Adam, it's as foreign to them as if they were to try reading a novel in Gaelic. "I mean, really? What the fuck are they getting at. He's gay, and I'm a girl. I'm not sure what they think he'd do," Allison sounds baffled by the sheer stupidity.
Kris remembers the many times he's seen Adam with children, Megan's son, Sarver's, Lil's, even his own nieces when his mother brought them out for a visit. None of them even thinking to be intimidated by Adam, even with his imposing height. In every case they'd run straight to him, hugging his legs until he gave in and knelt down to pick them up. Kris's heart twists painfully in his chest at the idea of Adam never having the chance to be a father. It isn't a big deal to him, he is indifferent to children most of the time, but Adam loves them, and they love him in return.
I will not give them the satisfaction of having two of us bruised, Kris thinks. It becomes a mantra, his focus to keep him from doing exactly that. "Allison, please, please don't go back out there. Come on," he says. She nods solemnly. He acknowledges her response, and tells Michael to "maybe try and keep her out of trouble this time," before returning to his dressing room to find Adam asleep on the couch. He sighs, kneeling down and petting his hair.
Author: Emilie, or any of my 200 different usernames.
Rating: R -- all language
Pairing: Kris Allen/Adam Lambert
Length: 1049 words
Summary: Allison doesn't handle conflict well.
Warnings/Notes: Violence, protesters, crying, swearing. Title comes from a completely unrelated song by Tracy Lawrence.
Adam slams his book closed when Allison bursts into the room. The wonky formatting isn't helping his headache, and he knows how it ends anyway. He cringes as the door rebounds against the wall a couple times before stilling. "Fuck them," Allison growls. Adam's eyes are closed, but he assumes there is another person in the room.
Kris, he realizes when he hears the sigh of frustration, and the calm "Allison, ignore them." Kris's sneakers are all but silent as he crosses the room and pats at Adam's legs, knowing that he's awake. Adam doesn't get up, just lifts his legs enough for Kris to sit down, before resting them in his lap. Kris's hand rests on his knee, and he asks his question without opening his eyes. "What, or whom, is Allison fucking?"
"The goddam protesters," she continues to rage. "I can't fucking believe those motherfuckers." Adam thinks maybe he should be scolding her for her language, then realizes it's at least partially his fault and chooses to remain silent. "Fucking hell. I don't even give a fuck that they're out there bitching about me, but fuck." Allison is growling, literally, low in her throat.
"Allie, calm down," Kris says again. "All the swearing in the world isn't going to stop them. They aren't going suddenly see what we see." Kris is petting his leg affectionately, probably without realizing he's doing it. Allison knows, even if the others can only suspect.
"Still..." she says, her voice still high and angry.
"Wait," Adam finally speaks up. "What are they saying about Allie?" He opens his eyes to find them both looking guilty and resigned. He figures they're about to refuse to tell him. "You have all of ten seconds before I go out there and find out for myself," he threatens. Kris stops petting, and his now still hand grips tightly at Adam's calf. He knows how Adam is going to react, and he hopes that he can move fast enough to stop him.
"They're calling her a fag enabler," Kris tells him. "Adam, don't move," he says. It sounds more like he's warning him, than requesting. "You're gonna stay right here on this couch."
"Like hell I am," he snaps. "They can bitch about me all the fuck they want, I've heard it all, but they don't get to bash a little girl." Allison snorts from the doorway.
"Adam, going out there isn't going to help anything, now stay." His tone has gone from warning to that of someone scolding a puppy. "Allison isn't that little, and she's already punched one of them. No more violence." Adam cranes his neck to see Allison flexing her hand, wincing.
At some point, Allison leaves, and Kris can only hope that Michael is still around to restrain her. Adam remains silent, almost enough so that Kris would think he's sleeping if his breathing weren't quite so fast. Kris watches, brows furrowed, trying to determine how Adam really feels about the situation they've found themselves in. Kris ignores his own self-loathing ( they should be protesting us both, he thinks) when he realizes that Adam is sobbing, quietly, and without tears. He can't tell if it's anger, or sadness. Disgust, or frustration, but it breaks his heart all the same.
He reaches for Adam's hand, running his thumb across the back of it, trying to comfort him without really knowing what demons he is dealing with. "It'll be okay," Kris whispers, shifting slightly to check his phone when it vibrates midsentence. It's a text from Michael,
didn't restrain 'er, they had it comin'
"Looks like Allison's done it again," he mumbles to himself. "Baby, can I get up? Will you be okay until I get back? I don't want you to do anything irrational." He knows that it's a pointless question, when Adam's upset he draws into himself. Kris figures he'll probably wind up guiding him, half asleep, to the bus later. He still waits for permission.
"Yea." Adam is always soft spoken, but Kris feels his heart breaking all over again when he hears the flat tone of his voice. He moves his legs enough so that Kris can get up.
"I'll be right back," Kris promises, hurrying out of the room to see what exactly had been done that Michael and the others hadn't stopped Allison from leveling another protester, all but force feeding them their picket signs. He's never seen her quite so angry as when he entered the hall and saw her sitting next to Megan. "Wha..."
"They told Mom she should keep me away from him, and that they hoped he wasn't allowed near the younger kids," Allison fumes, allowing Megan to hold a bag of ice on her hand. Megan looks scared and saddened. Everyone is shaken by the protesters' complete hatred. No one can grasp hating Adam, it's as foreign to them as if they were to try reading a novel in Gaelic. "I mean, really? What the fuck are they getting at. He's gay, and I'm a girl. I'm not sure what they think he'd do," Allison sounds baffled by the sheer stupidity.
Kris remembers the many times he's seen Adam with children, Megan's son, Sarver's, Lil's, even his own nieces when his mother brought them out for a visit. None of them even thinking to be intimidated by Adam, even with his imposing height. In every case they'd run straight to him, hugging his legs until he gave in and knelt down to pick them up. Kris's heart twists painfully in his chest at the idea of Adam never having the chance to be a father. It isn't a big deal to him, he is indifferent to children most of the time, but Adam loves them, and they love him in return.
I will not give them the satisfaction of having two of us bruised, Kris thinks. It becomes a mantra, his focus to keep him from doing exactly that. "Allison, please, please don't go back out there. Come on," he says. She nods solemnly. He acknowledges her response, and tells Michael to "maybe try and keep her out of trouble this time," before returning to his dressing room to find Adam asleep on the couch. He sighs, kneeling down and petting his hair.