Fic: Written in the Stars
title: Written in the Stars
author: writerdazs
pairing: Kris & Adam friendship
rating: PG-13 for a few naughty words
summary: Allison huffs and rolls her eyes. “Dude, you’re like my brothers, I know when something’s wrong with one of you. He’s been . . . unKrislike all week.”
notes: I can't believe I've actually done this. It's so unlike me. First, and very likely last, Kris and Adam friendship fic.
"Hey. Where's Kris?"
The husky timbre of Allison’s voice somehow manages to cut through the controlled chaos generated by a group of people thoroughly enjoying a rare moment of downtime.
Though she addresses the room at large, her gaze seeks out Adam, just returned from a trip down the hall in search of privacy and a little quiet to make a phone call. Pulling his third Diet Coke from the suite’s minibar, he does a quick scan of the room: Scott and Matt tinkering on the grand piano; Anoop and Danny vying for who could get more laughs from Megan; Mike and Lil swapping Nanny 911 stories about their kids.
Kris . . . MIA.
“He went back to his room,” Matt says, lifting his fingers momentarily from the keys. “Said something about a headache.”
Allison quirks an eyebrow at Adam, her message clear: Well? What are you waiting for?
With a curve of his lips, he gives her a mock salute: On my way, baby girl.
To his surprise she follows, linking her arm with his as he steps into the hallway. “Hey. What’s going on?”
He smirks, returning her friendly squeeze. “Just checking up on my roomie, as ordered.”
She gives him a little shove. “You know what I mean.”
Yeah, he does. But he isn’t so sure he should be talking about it.
Allison huffs and rolls her eyes. “Dude, you’re like my brothers, I know when something’s wrong with one of you. He’s been . . . unKrislike all week.”
Despite his concern, he can’t help the little explosion of laughter. “UnKrislike?”
She smacks him and sticks out her tongue. “Shut up! You know exactly what I mean. He’s not acting like himself, he’s not even looking like himself. Even Donna’s been riding his ass, saying she’s got to use way more concealer than usual.”
He pulls her into a brief headlock, tousling her hair before letting go. “Yeah,” he says. “I know.”
Honestly, he’s surprised no one else has caught on. Kris might be a gifted musician and the nicest guy on the planet, but he’s a terrible actor. Though Adam has watched him struggling hard to appear normal, the truth is, Kris Allen wears his heart on his sleeve. Caught up in the frenetic intensity of the tour, the others just haven’t been looking.
Well, except for Allison. He grins to himself. The girl is a mass of contradictions-flighty PR nightmare of a teenager one moment, shrewd, wise-beyond-her-years woman the next.
From the moment they’d made the top 36, she, Adam, and Kris had gravitated toward one another, forming a bond that had become an island of sanity in the rough seas of Idol craziness. Adam is the advocate, first to speak his mind, whether that means offering advice or pointing out decisions that are unfair--or just plain stupid (lip syncing, anyone?). Allison provides comic relief, her bubbly personality and antics making them laugh whenever things start to get too serious. And Kris . . .
Kris is the glue. Quiet, unassuming, he’s the last to draw attention to himself and the first at your side when you need him. Adam’s certain if he looked up “laid back” in the dictionary, he’d find Kris’s picture. In their weeks as roommates, during the show and now on tour, Adam has relied on Kris’s steadying presence to balance his own moments of drama. He’s learned it isn’t easy to sustain a freak out in the face of that patient smile and soft drawl.
But more than that, Kris loves people-all people. He has a way of looking past the exterior and seeing the heart, finding the good in, well, everyone. It’s something Adam has always prided himself on giving, but has rarely received so freely in return.
The funny thing is, if you’d asked Adam a year ago what the chances were that he’d form a close friendship with a baby-faced Christian boy from Arkansas, he’d have had a good long laugh before answering: nonexistent. Leave it to Kris to turn perceptions upside down-just one more reason why Adam adores the guy.
“Yeah? So?” Allison pokes him in the side.
How can he not cave to the irresistible force that is Allison worried for a friend? Adam sighs. “He’s not sleeping, for one thing.”
Allie’s eyes widen. “Dude, seriously? I thought Kris was Mr. I-Can-Fall-Asleep-Anywhere-Anytime.”
“Was. Lately if he’s not tossing and turning in bed, I find him in the bathroom, picking out chords on his guitar and looking like a zombie.”
Allison frowns, gnawing her lip. “You don’t think . . . I mean, everything’s okay with Katy, right?”
“Talks to her every night,” Adam says. “And please--you saw the two of them in Little Rock, right?” When Allie waggles her eyebrows, he grins. “Looked pretty solid to me too.”
Allison’s smile fades. “Then what?”
“I’m not sure. But it’s time someone figured it out.” With a quick press of a kiss to her forehead, Adam turns her back toward the party sounds leaking from the suite. “So why don’t you go have fun and let me handle things from here.”
“Fine,” Allison grumbles. She pulls open the door but turns to shake a finger at him. “You come get me if you need me.”
He makes a shooing motion before heading down the hallway. Pausing outside the room, he listens, half expecting to hear the low rumble of Kris talking to Katy on the phone or the soft twang of his guitar. When all he gets is silence, he swipes his key card and lets himself in.
After the bright hallway lights, the room feels shrouded in darkness, the only illumination spilling through the open bathroom door. Adam blinks, one hand gripping the knob as he finds his bearings. His eyes slowly adjust until he can see Kris’s silhouette where he stands at the window.
“Hey.” Adam navigates around the beds to stand beside his friend.
Kris’s forearm is propped on the glass, his forehead pressed to the cool surface. “Hey,” he says, never taking his eyes from the bright city lights.
The stand like that for a few minutes. One of the things Adam has always enjoyed about his friendship with Kris is that he never feels the need to fill the silence. While they spend plenty of time rehashing performances and debating the merits of various song choices, they’re equally comfortable occupying the same space without ever saying a word.
Tonight, though, the silence hangs awkwardly between them, Adam not asking and Kris pointedly not telling.
Fuck that.
“So the way I see it, your time has run out,” he says, hands on his hips. “I’ve kept quiet all week-and honey, you know that’s a stretch for me. But I can’t stand by another minute and watch you fight this, whatever it is, alone.”
“I can’t remember the last time I saw stars.”
It’s soft and wistful and Kris still won’t look at him and Adam thinks he usually has a pretty good handle on what makes his friend tick but really, what the hell?
“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and assume you’re not talking about Jamie Foxx or Fergie.”
The upward tilt to Kris’s lips is fleeting, but he drops his hand and steps back, meeting Adam’s gaze for the first time. Even the poor lighting can’t hide the tight set to his mouth and the shadows around his eyes.
“It’s the lights,” he says. “They overpower everything. The stars are still there, you just . . . you can’t see ‘em.” He lets out a soft puff of air. “Everywhere we go there are too damn many lights.”
Adam nods; he’s beginning to catch on. “I’ll bet you can see the stars really well from home.”
“Katy and I like to sit on the balcony of my apartment. On a clear summer night it’s pretty awesome.” He sits on the edge of his bed, hands clasped loosely between his knees.
Adam joins him, sitting close enough that their shoulders brush. “There’s no crime in admitting you’re homesick.”
Kris snorts but there’s not much conviction to the sound. “It’s not like this is my first time leaving Arkansas. I’ve traveled all over the world, to some pretty remote places. And I didn’t stay in five-star hotels with wifi and cell reception.”
“But when it was all over, you knew you’d be heading home,” Adam says quietly. He knows he doesn’t have to state the obvious. That this time Kris has no idea when-if ever-he’ll be returning to Conway for more than a quick visit.
Kris’s only response is a slight catch to his breathing, but Adam can feel how hard his friend is fighting for control. Which is the exact bullshit that’s put those dark circles under Kris’s eyes.
Adam leans forward, tilting his head so he can see Kris’s face. “In all these months of craziness, have you allowed yourself even one minute to grieve for the things you’ve lost?”
Kris bites down hard on his bottom lip and his hands curl from a loose clasp to a white-knuckled grip. “I don’t have the right to be sad,” he says, and it sounds like a speech he’s practiced over and over in his head. “I’m the Cinderella of this story, man. I outsmarted the four wicked judges and won the crown. I’m doing what I love--making music--and I’m getting paid for it. People want to hear me sing, want my autograph, heck, some of ‘em even want to get in my pants. And my wife, the coolest chick in world, is so happy for me that she doesn’t ever complain about all the crap that comes her way because of me.” His voice cracks and he looks away, blinking hard.
“Yeah, you’re one lucky guy.” Adam slips an arm around Kris’s tense shoulders, choosing his words carefully. “But you and I both know that Idol or not, you don’t get anywhere in this business without giving up something in return. Since the moment Hollywood week began, your life hasn’t been your own. You’ve been analyzed, criticized, idealized, made over, picked apart, and pimped out. Strangers think they have the right to know everything about you, from your favorite color to your sexual orientation. And sure, you’ve got a recording contract, but you’re gonna have to fight for every crumb of creative control. Not to mention a portion of the people who didn’t vote for you are out there right now, crossing their fingers and hoping your first CD is going to fail. Epically.”
Just as he’d hoped, the last bit startles a weak chuckle from Kris and his shoulders drop a little. “Thanks for the reminder. And back atcha.”
Adam brings up his hand to squeeze Kris’s neck. “I’m just saying this gig isn’t all sunshine and puppies. It’s okay to hurt over the things you’ve given up. Especially things like those nights stargazing with your adorably sexy wife.” When Kris looks at him, eyebrows raised, Adam smirks. “Honey, just because I shop in the men’s department doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate what the women’s has to offer.”
This time Kris’s laugh reaches his eyes, and Adam gets an elbow to the ribs.
They sit in silence, comfortable this time, Adam kneading the muscles beneath his fingers. “Headache?” he asks, huffing a little when Kris nods. “No wonder. Your muscles are tied up in knots.”
Kris stifles a yawn. “You’ve got great hands.” He realizes what he’s said as soon as the words are out, snickering as he smirks at Adam through his lashes.
“Baby, you have no idea,” Adam replies, batting his eyes. He gives Kris a gentle shove. “Lay down.”
Whether it’s trust, exhaustion, or a combination of the two, Kris goes without protest, stretching out on his stomach with arms buried beneath his pillow. “Can see the tabloids now,” he says through another yawn. “‘Kradam Share a Bed-Exclusive photos inside.’”
“Good thing we’re both so pretty.”
Adam works his way down his friend’s spine, digging his fingers into muscle that feels like iron. There’s a boatload of stress-induced knots, and he patiently deals with each. By the time he’s done, his fingers ache and Kris is boneless, his eyes at half-mast.
There’s just one thing Adam needs to know before Kris crashes-and Adam’s damn good so yeah, he’s going to crash hard. “You know, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about being on the road, it’s that family is a lot like those stars of yours. Even when you can’t see them through all the bright lights, they’re still there.” He gentles his hands. “Have you let Katy know what’s been going on in that head of yours?”
“Told you,” Kris mutters, his eyes closed now, “she’s given up too much for me already. Not gonna dump this on her too. Be okay.” His breathing slips into a familiar rhythm, his features soft and peaceful.
Adam shakes his head, mouth curved in a wry smile. “Yeah, you will. But not on your own.”
Kris doesn’t even twitch when Adam eases off the mattress, taking just a moment to appreciate a job well done. Or at least, well begun. He’s not finished yet.
Taking Kris’s cell from the nightstand, he steps into the hallway and punches number one on speed dial. The obvious love in Katy’s pleased greeting tugs his heart.
“Hey, cutie. It’s Adam, not Kris. And before you panic, he’s okay. Sleeping like a baby, in fact. I’m calling because I’ve had one of my brilliant ideas. What if I send you a ticket to meet us in Newark this weekend?”
End
author: writerdazs
pairing: Kris & Adam friendship
rating: PG-13 for a few naughty words
summary: Allison huffs and rolls her eyes. “Dude, you’re like my brothers, I know when something’s wrong with one of you. He’s been . . . unKrislike all week.”
notes: I can't believe I've actually done this. It's so unlike me. First, and very likely last, Kris and Adam friendship fic.
"Hey. Where's Kris?"
The husky timbre of Allison’s voice somehow manages to cut through the controlled chaos generated by a group of people thoroughly enjoying a rare moment of downtime.
Though she addresses the room at large, her gaze seeks out Adam, just returned from a trip down the hall in search of privacy and a little quiet to make a phone call. Pulling his third Diet Coke from the suite’s minibar, he does a quick scan of the room: Scott and Matt tinkering on the grand piano; Anoop and Danny vying for who could get more laughs from Megan; Mike and Lil swapping Nanny 911 stories about their kids.
Kris . . . MIA.
“He went back to his room,” Matt says, lifting his fingers momentarily from the keys. “Said something about a headache.”
Allison quirks an eyebrow at Adam, her message clear: Well? What are you waiting for?
With a curve of his lips, he gives her a mock salute: On my way, baby girl.
To his surprise she follows, linking her arm with his as he steps into the hallway. “Hey. What’s going on?”
He smirks, returning her friendly squeeze. “Just checking up on my roomie, as ordered.”
She gives him a little shove. “You know what I mean.”
Yeah, he does. But he isn’t so sure he should be talking about it.
Allison huffs and rolls her eyes. “Dude, you’re like my brothers, I know when something’s wrong with one of you. He’s been . . . unKrislike all week.”
Despite his concern, he can’t help the little explosion of laughter. “UnKrislike?”
She smacks him and sticks out her tongue. “Shut up! You know exactly what I mean. He’s not acting like himself, he’s not even looking like himself. Even Donna’s been riding his ass, saying she’s got to use way more concealer than usual.”
He pulls her into a brief headlock, tousling her hair before letting go. “Yeah,” he says. “I know.”
Honestly, he’s surprised no one else has caught on. Kris might be a gifted musician and the nicest guy on the planet, but he’s a terrible actor. Though Adam has watched him struggling hard to appear normal, the truth is, Kris Allen wears his heart on his sleeve. Caught up in the frenetic intensity of the tour, the others just haven’t been looking.
Well, except for Allison. He grins to himself. The girl is a mass of contradictions-flighty PR nightmare of a teenager one moment, shrewd, wise-beyond-her-years woman the next.
From the moment they’d made the top 36, she, Adam, and Kris had gravitated toward one another, forming a bond that had become an island of sanity in the rough seas of Idol craziness. Adam is the advocate, first to speak his mind, whether that means offering advice or pointing out decisions that are unfair--or just plain stupid (lip syncing, anyone?). Allison provides comic relief, her bubbly personality and antics making them laugh whenever things start to get too serious. And Kris . . .
Kris is the glue. Quiet, unassuming, he’s the last to draw attention to himself and the first at your side when you need him. Adam’s certain if he looked up “laid back” in the dictionary, he’d find Kris’s picture. In their weeks as roommates, during the show and now on tour, Adam has relied on Kris’s steadying presence to balance his own moments of drama. He’s learned it isn’t easy to sustain a freak out in the face of that patient smile and soft drawl.
But more than that, Kris loves people-all people. He has a way of looking past the exterior and seeing the heart, finding the good in, well, everyone. It’s something Adam has always prided himself on giving, but has rarely received so freely in return.
The funny thing is, if you’d asked Adam a year ago what the chances were that he’d form a close friendship with a baby-faced Christian boy from Arkansas, he’d have had a good long laugh before answering: nonexistent. Leave it to Kris to turn perceptions upside down-just one more reason why Adam adores the guy.
“Yeah? So?” Allison pokes him in the side.
How can he not cave to the irresistible force that is Allison worried for a friend? Adam sighs. “He’s not sleeping, for one thing.”
Allie’s eyes widen. “Dude, seriously? I thought Kris was Mr. I-Can-Fall-Asleep-Anywhere-Anytime.”
“Was. Lately if he’s not tossing and turning in bed, I find him in the bathroom, picking out chords on his guitar and looking like a zombie.”
Allison frowns, gnawing her lip. “You don’t think . . . I mean, everything’s okay with Katy, right?”
“Talks to her every night,” Adam says. “And please--you saw the two of them in Little Rock, right?” When Allie waggles her eyebrows, he grins. “Looked pretty solid to me too.”
Allison’s smile fades. “Then what?”
“I’m not sure. But it’s time someone figured it out.” With a quick press of a kiss to her forehead, Adam turns her back toward the party sounds leaking from the suite. “So why don’t you go have fun and let me handle things from here.”
“Fine,” Allison grumbles. She pulls open the door but turns to shake a finger at him. “You come get me if you need me.”
He makes a shooing motion before heading down the hallway. Pausing outside the room, he listens, half expecting to hear the low rumble of Kris talking to Katy on the phone or the soft twang of his guitar. When all he gets is silence, he swipes his key card and lets himself in.
After the bright hallway lights, the room feels shrouded in darkness, the only illumination spilling through the open bathroom door. Adam blinks, one hand gripping the knob as he finds his bearings. His eyes slowly adjust until he can see Kris’s silhouette where he stands at the window.
“Hey.” Adam navigates around the beds to stand beside his friend.
Kris’s forearm is propped on the glass, his forehead pressed to the cool surface. “Hey,” he says, never taking his eyes from the bright city lights.
The stand like that for a few minutes. One of the things Adam has always enjoyed about his friendship with Kris is that he never feels the need to fill the silence. While they spend plenty of time rehashing performances and debating the merits of various song choices, they’re equally comfortable occupying the same space without ever saying a word.
Tonight, though, the silence hangs awkwardly between them, Adam not asking and Kris pointedly not telling.
Fuck that.
“So the way I see it, your time has run out,” he says, hands on his hips. “I’ve kept quiet all week-and honey, you know that’s a stretch for me. But I can’t stand by another minute and watch you fight this, whatever it is, alone.”
“I can’t remember the last time I saw stars.”
It’s soft and wistful and Kris still won’t look at him and Adam thinks he usually has a pretty good handle on what makes his friend tick but really, what the hell?
“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and assume you’re not talking about Jamie Foxx or Fergie.”
The upward tilt to Kris’s lips is fleeting, but he drops his hand and steps back, meeting Adam’s gaze for the first time. Even the poor lighting can’t hide the tight set to his mouth and the shadows around his eyes.
“It’s the lights,” he says. “They overpower everything. The stars are still there, you just . . . you can’t see ‘em.” He lets out a soft puff of air. “Everywhere we go there are too damn many lights.”
Adam nods; he’s beginning to catch on. “I’ll bet you can see the stars really well from home.”
“Katy and I like to sit on the balcony of my apartment. On a clear summer night it’s pretty awesome.” He sits on the edge of his bed, hands clasped loosely between his knees.
Adam joins him, sitting close enough that their shoulders brush. “There’s no crime in admitting you’re homesick.”
Kris snorts but there’s not much conviction to the sound. “It’s not like this is my first time leaving Arkansas. I’ve traveled all over the world, to some pretty remote places. And I didn’t stay in five-star hotels with wifi and cell reception.”
“But when it was all over, you knew you’d be heading home,” Adam says quietly. He knows he doesn’t have to state the obvious. That this time Kris has no idea when-if ever-he’ll be returning to Conway for more than a quick visit.
Kris’s only response is a slight catch to his breathing, but Adam can feel how hard his friend is fighting for control. Which is the exact bullshit that’s put those dark circles under Kris’s eyes.
Adam leans forward, tilting his head so he can see Kris’s face. “In all these months of craziness, have you allowed yourself even one minute to grieve for the things you’ve lost?”
Kris bites down hard on his bottom lip and his hands curl from a loose clasp to a white-knuckled grip. “I don’t have the right to be sad,” he says, and it sounds like a speech he’s practiced over and over in his head. “I’m the Cinderella of this story, man. I outsmarted the four wicked judges and won the crown. I’m doing what I love--making music--and I’m getting paid for it. People want to hear me sing, want my autograph, heck, some of ‘em even want to get in my pants. And my wife, the coolest chick in world, is so happy for me that she doesn’t ever complain about all the crap that comes her way because of me.” His voice cracks and he looks away, blinking hard.
“Yeah, you’re one lucky guy.” Adam slips an arm around Kris’s tense shoulders, choosing his words carefully. “But you and I both know that Idol or not, you don’t get anywhere in this business without giving up something in return. Since the moment Hollywood week began, your life hasn’t been your own. You’ve been analyzed, criticized, idealized, made over, picked apart, and pimped out. Strangers think they have the right to know everything about you, from your favorite color to your sexual orientation. And sure, you’ve got a recording contract, but you’re gonna have to fight for every crumb of creative control. Not to mention a portion of the people who didn’t vote for you are out there right now, crossing their fingers and hoping your first CD is going to fail. Epically.”
Just as he’d hoped, the last bit startles a weak chuckle from Kris and his shoulders drop a little. “Thanks for the reminder. And back atcha.”
Adam brings up his hand to squeeze Kris’s neck. “I’m just saying this gig isn’t all sunshine and puppies. It’s okay to hurt over the things you’ve given up. Especially things like those nights stargazing with your adorably sexy wife.” When Kris looks at him, eyebrows raised, Adam smirks. “Honey, just because I shop in the men’s department doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate what the women’s has to offer.”
This time Kris’s laugh reaches his eyes, and Adam gets an elbow to the ribs.
They sit in silence, comfortable this time, Adam kneading the muscles beneath his fingers. “Headache?” he asks, huffing a little when Kris nods. “No wonder. Your muscles are tied up in knots.”
Kris stifles a yawn. “You’ve got great hands.” He realizes what he’s said as soon as the words are out, snickering as he smirks at Adam through his lashes.
“Baby, you have no idea,” Adam replies, batting his eyes. He gives Kris a gentle shove. “Lay down.”
Whether it’s trust, exhaustion, or a combination of the two, Kris goes without protest, stretching out on his stomach with arms buried beneath his pillow. “Can see the tabloids now,” he says through another yawn. “‘Kradam Share a Bed-Exclusive photos inside.’”
“Good thing we’re both so pretty.”
Adam works his way down his friend’s spine, digging his fingers into muscle that feels like iron. There’s a boatload of stress-induced knots, and he patiently deals with each. By the time he’s done, his fingers ache and Kris is boneless, his eyes at half-mast.
There’s just one thing Adam needs to know before Kris crashes-and Adam’s damn good so yeah, he’s going to crash hard. “You know, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about being on the road, it’s that family is a lot like those stars of yours. Even when you can’t see them through all the bright lights, they’re still there.” He gentles his hands. “Have you let Katy know what’s been going on in that head of yours?”
“Told you,” Kris mutters, his eyes closed now, “she’s given up too much for me already. Not gonna dump this on her too. Be okay.” His breathing slips into a familiar rhythm, his features soft and peaceful.
Adam shakes his head, mouth curved in a wry smile. “Yeah, you will. But not on your own.”
Kris doesn’t even twitch when Adam eases off the mattress, taking just a moment to appreciate a job well done. Or at least, well begun. He’s not finished yet.
Taking Kris’s cell from the nightstand, he steps into the hallway and punches number one on speed dial. The obvious love in Katy’s pleased greeting tugs his heart.
“Hey, cutie. It’s Adam, not Kris. And before you panic, he’s okay. Sleeping like a baby, in fact. I’m calling because I’ve had one of my brilliant ideas. What if I send you a ticket to meet us in Newark this weekend?”
End