Fic: The Sweat of Circumstance
Title: The Sweat of Circumstance
Authors: morganlight and risti.
Rating: R for language & implied sex.
Word Count: ~1,220
Disclaimer: Bad poets borrow; good poets steal. No ownership or disrespect; only adoration.
Warnings: Possibly only half-resolved angst?
Prompt: None. We just started writing!
Notes: Title stolen from Declan Bennett's heartbreakingly sweet Kradam song, 'Love Wins'. Let's hope it does. <3
Summary: A heated argument in a hotel room.
Every time Kris tried to make a point, a trapped fruit fly would divebomb his inner ear and distract him so that what came out sounded stupid. "It's not about what you do on stage. I love what you do on stage. It's the fact that I can't tell anyone that it doesn't matter what you do on stage-you're still coming home to me."
"But that's just it! I've all but STOPPED doing that shit. I'm nobody but myself on stage. I'm kissing nobody. I'm looking at no one. I'm all by my fucking self up there, and it's not any fun. I want it to be fun again, Kris."
"Do I look like I'm stopping you from having fun? When have I ever stopped you? You're not the one who has a manager keeping track of your little ‘slip-ups’.” Kris used finger quotes. He had always thought finger quotes were so immature. When did it get to this point?
Adam's veins were pulsing. He'd never had heart problems in his life, but this was going to explode him.
The fly flew in for another go at Kris's ear. This time they both swiped at it, waving crazy arms in motions probably meant for each other. In the process, Adam's hand flew towards Kris's face, and Kris instinctively blocked it and pushed it away.
Adam looked at him in shock. “Kris, what, do you think I'm going to hit you or something? I was just trying to help."
"You're not helping." It felt cold the second it left Kris's lips.
“Then maybe I should just leave.”
“Wait-just-” Kris shivered, though he wasn't sure what caused it-the open hotel room window, the hostility, or the fact that his clothes were on the floor.
Adam turned away. He couldn't look at Kris when he was hurting him, even when Kris was hurting him back. Even when he wanted to hurt Kris.
“You can't leave, anyway,” Kris said. “Not like that.” He reached out and let his hand trail down the ridge of Adam's backbone, but when he would have continued under what the sheets were covering, Adam stood up and got out of bed.
"It's too hot," said Adam. "Why the fuck do we always come here? It's too hot, too humid, you're too hard to get ahold of... "
"It's Florida. When you said you were coming here, I just thought..." Kris clenched his jaw. "You know what, forget it. It was a stupid idea."
The delirious heat gave everything a nebulous vibe, like no time had passed, or all of it had.
An observer might think their meetings were always like this-that they sparred as much as they had sex, that theirs was a love-hate relationship, a battle for the ages. But Kris knew better. Context was everything.
"What did they make you sign?"
Kris shrugged. "The usual." They'd pinned so many hopes on things being different now, but a suit was just a suit, no matter what name was on the label. "At least another year. Album plus the promo after it."
"That's it, then." Adam was shaking. The trapped fly circled his head and he didn't even hear it. "It's never going to stop. It doesn't matter how many times you come to Florida, or I do. It's always going to be the same."
"Should I have refused to sign it?" Kris stared at the ugly hotel curtains blocking out the morning light. Every hotel, it seemed, had the same damn ugly curtains. "I’m serious, Adam. Should I back out of the deal? Because if I have to choose, well, I've told you before what I'd choose."
"No," Adam said. He turned back, eyes to the floor. "Music first. We always said that."
"But there isn't any music without you."
Kris could live without a career. He couldn't live without music, but his music had always come from the heart, and he had a feeling if that was broken, the music would be, too.
Drowning any possible response, the sounds of a helicopter intensified momentarily, as if to say, yes, the world IS going on in spite of your love affair. The city will keep operating. It will not stop to fix you.
"Do you remember that night in Vegas?" Adam asked, looking up. "We looked out the hotel window at the fake pyramid and the fake Eiffel Tower and we swore that one day we would see the real thing. That we'd see the world like a real couple." He paused, then lost his temporary defiance. "The real world is fucking us over."
"For though you are in the world, you are not of it," Kris mumbled.
"What?"
"It's in the Bible."
Adam stared. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?"
"It means,” Kris tried, “that even though we're in this world, we don't have to be a part of it. We can do our own thing. It won't make the rest of the world stop sucking, but if we stick together, we can do it. We can make it through. We can survive."
Adam used to think that people who quoted the Bible all the time were closed off, living in their own little heads. But what Kris said seemed to open up the whole room, making it less like a pantry and more of an actual comfort. With a bed. Comfort they had come to find. Hadn’t they?
The fly landed on Kris's shoulder, but he didn't swat at it. He was too focused on Adam, who was losing his skilled affectation, muscle by muscle. Slumping. Softening.
Survival.
Kris awkwardly tried to shuffle across the bed on his knees to the side where Adam was standing, but his legs got tangled in the covers, and he almost faceplanted over the side. Adam caught him, kept him from falling. A calm collected into Kris's body as Adam's grip on his shoulder tightened.
"What am I going to do with you?" Adam asked, his thumb coming out to trace Kris's bottom lip, even as a million different emotions passed through his eyes.
Kris bit down, his tongue darting out to flick along Adam's thumb. "Whatever you want to do. I belong to you. Remember?"
Adam kissed him. It was nothing epic in the greater scheme of their relationship, but it was a kiss, and Kris took it.
"I'm am glad you came," Adam said when he pulled back and smiled. Small moments-they kept forgetting them, amidst the buzzing flies and stage fright and flights of fancy. Sometimes it didn't have to mean anything. Sometimes a moment was enough.
Maybe marking every event was a mistake. Maybe living in the moment was what they needed. This kissing, dry despite the Florida heat; this breath, short despite their ease of contact; this sex, savored despite its nearly predictable pattern: giving, vocal. Clean, by habit. (Secrecy always kills a mess.)
Another coupling in the beehive of hotel rooms.
In the hotel hall, a housekeeping lady paused briefly outside their door before seeing the Do Not Disturb sign. She made a note on her clipboard and moved on to the next room.
Outside the hotel, in the humid Florida air, a fly escaped a set of generic ugly curtains and kept going, not counting the days.
well yeah there is water the size of an ocean
there's got to be a way
and there's months where i won't see you
but i'll deal with a week
i could deal with a day
will we always be up against
the sweat of circumstance
the situation
Authors: morganlight and risti.
Rating: R for language & implied sex.
Word Count: ~1,220
Disclaimer: Bad poets borrow; good poets steal. No ownership or disrespect; only adoration.
Warnings: Possibly only half-resolved angst?
Prompt: None. We just started writing!
Notes: Title stolen from Declan Bennett's heartbreakingly sweet Kradam song, 'Love Wins'. Let's hope it does. <3
Summary: A heated argument in a hotel room.
Every time Kris tried to make a point, a trapped fruit fly would divebomb his inner ear and distract him so that what came out sounded stupid. "It's not about what you do on stage. I love what you do on stage. It's the fact that I can't tell anyone that it doesn't matter what you do on stage-you're still coming home to me."
"But that's just it! I've all but STOPPED doing that shit. I'm nobody but myself on stage. I'm kissing nobody. I'm looking at no one. I'm all by my fucking self up there, and it's not any fun. I want it to be fun again, Kris."
"Do I look like I'm stopping you from having fun? When have I ever stopped you? You're not the one who has a manager keeping track of your little ‘slip-ups’.” Kris used finger quotes. He had always thought finger quotes were so immature. When did it get to this point?
Adam's veins were pulsing. He'd never had heart problems in his life, but this was going to explode him.
The fly flew in for another go at Kris's ear. This time they both swiped at it, waving crazy arms in motions probably meant for each other. In the process, Adam's hand flew towards Kris's face, and Kris instinctively blocked it and pushed it away.
Adam looked at him in shock. “Kris, what, do you think I'm going to hit you or something? I was just trying to help."
"You're not helping." It felt cold the second it left Kris's lips.
“Then maybe I should just leave.”
“Wait-just-” Kris shivered, though he wasn't sure what caused it-the open hotel room window, the hostility, or the fact that his clothes were on the floor.
Adam turned away. He couldn't look at Kris when he was hurting him, even when Kris was hurting him back. Even when he wanted to hurt Kris.
“You can't leave, anyway,” Kris said. “Not like that.” He reached out and let his hand trail down the ridge of Adam's backbone, but when he would have continued under what the sheets were covering, Adam stood up and got out of bed.
"It's too hot," said Adam. "Why the fuck do we always come here? It's too hot, too humid, you're too hard to get ahold of... "
"It's Florida. When you said you were coming here, I just thought..." Kris clenched his jaw. "You know what, forget it. It was a stupid idea."
The delirious heat gave everything a nebulous vibe, like no time had passed, or all of it had.
An observer might think their meetings were always like this-that they sparred as much as they had sex, that theirs was a love-hate relationship, a battle for the ages. But Kris knew better. Context was everything.
"What did they make you sign?"
Kris shrugged. "The usual." They'd pinned so many hopes on things being different now, but a suit was just a suit, no matter what name was on the label. "At least another year. Album plus the promo after it."
"That's it, then." Adam was shaking. The trapped fly circled his head and he didn't even hear it. "It's never going to stop. It doesn't matter how many times you come to Florida, or I do. It's always going to be the same."
"Should I have refused to sign it?" Kris stared at the ugly hotel curtains blocking out the morning light. Every hotel, it seemed, had the same damn ugly curtains. "I’m serious, Adam. Should I back out of the deal? Because if I have to choose, well, I've told you before what I'd choose."
"No," Adam said. He turned back, eyes to the floor. "Music first. We always said that."
"But there isn't any music without you."
Kris could live without a career. He couldn't live without music, but his music had always come from the heart, and he had a feeling if that was broken, the music would be, too.
Drowning any possible response, the sounds of a helicopter intensified momentarily, as if to say, yes, the world IS going on in spite of your love affair. The city will keep operating. It will not stop to fix you.
"Do you remember that night in Vegas?" Adam asked, looking up. "We looked out the hotel window at the fake pyramid and the fake Eiffel Tower and we swore that one day we would see the real thing. That we'd see the world like a real couple." He paused, then lost his temporary defiance. "The real world is fucking us over."
"For though you are in the world, you are not of it," Kris mumbled.
"What?"
"It's in the Bible."
Adam stared. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?"
"It means,” Kris tried, “that even though we're in this world, we don't have to be a part of it. We can do our own thing. It won't make the rest of the world stop sucking, but if we stick together, we can do it. We can make it through. We can survive."
Adam used to think that people who quoted the Bible all the time were closed off, living in their own little heads. But what Kris said seemed to open up the whole room, making it less like a pantry and more of an actual comfort. With a bed. Comfort they had come to find. Hadn’t they?
The fly landed on Kris's shoulder, but he didn't swat at it. He was too focused on Adam, who was losing his skilled affectation, muscle by muscle. Slumping. Softening.
Survival.
Kris awkwardly tried to shuffle across the bed on his knees to the side where Adam was standing, but his legs got tangled in the covers, and he almost faceplanted over the side. Adam caught him, kept him from falling. A calm collected into Kris's body as Adam's grip on his shoulder tightened.
"What am I going to do with you?" Adam asked, his thumb coming out to trace Kris's bottom lip, even as a million different emotions passed through his eyes.
Kris bit down, his tongue darting out to flick along Adam's thumb. "Whatever you want to do. I belong to you. Remember?"
Adam kissed him. It was nothing epic in the greater scheme of their relationship, but it was a kiss, and Kris took it.
"I'm am glad you came," Adam said when he pulled back and smiled. Small moments-they kept forgetting them, amidst the buzzing flies and stage fright and flights of fancy. Sometimes it didn't have to mean anything. Sometimes a moment was enough.
Maybe marking every event was a mistake. Maybe living in the moment was what they needed. This kissing, dry despite the Florida heat; this breath, short despite their ease of contact; this sex, savored despite its nearly predictable pattern: giving, vocal. Clean, by habit. (Secrecy always kills a mess.)
Another coupling in the beehive of hotel rooms.
In the hotel hall, a housekeeping lady paused briefly outside their door before seeing the Do Not Disturb sign. She made a note on her clipboard and moved on to the next room.
Outside the hotel, in the humid Florida air, a fly escaped a set of generic ugly curtains and kept going, not counting the days.
well yeah there is water the size of an ocean
there's got to be a way
and there's months where i won't see you
but i'll deal with a week
i could deal with a day
will we always be up against
the sweat of circumstance
the situation