Fic: The Shit Gets Real
Fic: The Shit Gets Real
Fiction: 2500 words.
Rating: PG-13 (really! Not my usual smut!)
Pairings: Adam & Kris
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are real people, they own themselves. These situations are all fiction. Etc., etc.
Special note: This fic is completely different from all the others I’ve written. Angst, anger, bigotry, fear. And no sex (but lots of love!) Be warned.
Special thanks: Broddybounce, thanks again for some of the ideas that sparked this one. You are an awesome collaborator!
Summary: Kris thought he was prepared for the attention he’d receive as the American Idol winner. But he doesn’t know how to handle it when fear takes over.
Kris should have expected this. He’d seen enough TMZ and Inside Edition to be aware of what stars went through. He’d told himself he understood, that he could handle it, but he was wrong. He was freaked out, frightened, and alone. He couldn’t talk to Katy about it - she was freaked out, too, and upset that he’d ruined their peaceful lives. His other friends on the tour couldn’t quite get it, either. They weren’t dealing with the same level of intrusion. Adam was the only one he could go to. He needed Adam.
Adam handled the fame so well. It was like he was born for this! Kris wondered if it ever got to him. If so, it didn’t show. Kris knew if he didn’t figure out how to deal with it like Adam, he wasn’t going to survive. He’d come to this conclusion even before his bad day got worse.
Kris was sitting in his room, trying to catch up on fan mail, getting ready for the trip to Portland, their first tour stop. Katy had gone to the airport, ready to return to a normal life in Arkansas. She’d had more than enough of this already. Last night had finished her off. They’d gone to a restaurant several friends had recommended. The Idol people had provided the limo to get them there for a relaxing evening out together before they had to be apart again. But the paparrazi were stalking, and they’d been followed the whole night. The restaurant security held the photographers back, but even at a distance he could feel eyes on them. Their nerves were on edge already, and the stress was about to bring on another fight. Kris knew cameras with zoom lenses could catch their every expression and they had ended the evening barely talking, hardly looking at one another to keep from being captured on digital in an obvious argument.
Kris let out a sigh thinking about it. He’d been so excited for this tour! He wanted to perform for the fans. Most of them were great. But some of them were crazy, and he’d only recently realized how far some fans would go. That’s why fan is short for ‘fanatic,’ I guess, Kris thought.
He picked up one particular letter and suddenly felt sick, ill to the pit of his stomach. “You are a disgrace to your church and all Christians,” the writer said. “Hanging out with that faggot boy, hugging him all the time, acting like he’s not a complete abomination to God. Maybe you’re a faggot yourself. I’ve been dreaming of killing me some faggots.” Kris dropped the letter like it was on fire. He jumped up and started pacing around the room. He’d known Adam had gotten a few letters like this, but Adam dismissed them as crazies and turned them over to the show’s producers to handle. Then he’d go on like it never happened. How could he forget it so easily? Adam always said he’d rather concentrate on the thousands of fans who loved him rather than the one who hated him or threatened him.
Kris was a nice guy from Arkansas. He’d never had anyone hate him, not in his whole life. How would he ever forget? What did he do with this sort of thing? And how horrible was that “faggot” tag? How many times had Adam heard it? How did Adam turn out to be such a funny, loving, well adjusted guy after getting that kind of crap?
Kris got the letter to somebody, fast. Hopefully they could check the person out, make sure he wasn’t likely to carry out such a threat. For heaven’s sake, they were singers, not royalty or world leaders. Why should they need the kind of protection a president gets?
It all disturbed him, the whole situation: photographers snapping his every move, crazy fans, Katy. It affected him the whole trip to Portland, made for a terrible rehearsal the day of the opening show, and Kris knew it made his mind wander during the required local press interviews. He caught Adam’s eyes a few times, and could see Adam knew something was wrong. They had to talk! But there was no time, and he tried to put it out of his mind. His nerves were bad enough about opening day, being the final performance - the headliner! It couldn’t be real. He had to push it back, at least till after the show.
****
Kris’s head was bowed and he was talking to himself, trying to be calm as the riser brought him up from the bowels below the stage. He could sense the arena was packed but he didn’t look. He heard a few screams of “I love you, Kris” and he smiled. He could do this. Mr. Stalker, Mr. Faggot-hater, was not in Portland. He was one sick person, but tonight was full of love, not hate. He could set the hate aside, perform for the people who loved him.
Kris stepped up to the microphone, placed his fingers lovingly on his guitar strings, and took a deep breath. “In the night, I hear ‘em talk, coldest story ever told, somewhere far along this road he lost his soul, to a woman so heartless.”
****
The night was awesome. Except for “No Boundaries,” Kris had enjoyed everything he sang, especially the new numbers. (He wouldn’t mind No Boundaries, either, if it was just a few times. But 50 more! It might kill him.) He had fun with “Bright Lights,” playing piano, then jumping up to jam on an electric guitar. Hey Jude, with all his friends joining at the end, was magical. The final group number, which Kris secretly thought sucked, turned out pretty good after all.
After the show, heading for the buses brought the events of the previous days back to his mind: fans still trying to grab onto them, pictures snapping, people yelling “over here, over here.” He found himself watching the crowd, seeing if anybody looked angry or crazy. What did crazy look like, anyway?
He felt strong hands grab hold of him, and turned into Adam’s hug. “You were great tonight!” he said. “You made it through the first one, the rest will be easier.”
Kris held onto Adam like a drowning man grabbing a rope. He didn’t care who snapped a picture. “Thanks. I hope so.”
Adam finally held him at arm’s length. “Hey, are you okay.”
Kris shook his head. “Not really. Maybe we can talk?”
“No problem. Hopefully our rooms are next to each other, at least I requested that.” Adam smiled, and Kris wanted to hug him again but restrained himself.
****
Kris slid his keypass into the hotel room door, struggling with his bags and guitar case. He opened the door as Adam was going into his room right beside Kris. That’s when Kris knew maybe his bad couple of days was changing. The rooms were adjoining! Kris tossed his bags on his bed, unlocked the door on his side, and began to insistently pound on Adam’s door till Adam finally opened it up with a grin. “Can’t a guy even take a piss?”
Kris laughed. “Don’t let me stop you.” He felt so good with Adam, like the world might be put right after all. Kris plopped down in the soft armchair beside Adam’s bed.
“So, what’s going on, Kris?”
Kris wasn’t sure where to start, but he felt safest beginning with his own freaking out about the fans and the photographers, feeling stalked, and his horrible final evening with Katy. Adam just listened, nodding, finally saying, “It’s not easy, is it?”
“It seems easy for you.”
“Only because I’ve been in this town and know more of what to expect than you do. I still don’t like having my every move followed. I don’t like pictures taken of every person I’m around, speculation about who I might be sleeping with. I’ve got guys who are just friends who don’t want to be seen with me now, sure they’ll get tagged as another boyfriend.”
Kris shook his head. “That must be ruining some friendships. I haven’t had that kind of stuff.” He grinned. “Well, except for the ‘Kradam’ thing and the people who think I’m sleeping with you instead of my wife. There are a lot of pictures out there of us, you know.”
“I’m well aware. That’s messing with other relationships, too.”
“So I take it Drake’s jealous of me.” Kris couldn’t help smiling as he said it.
“To put it mildly. But that’s another subject, and I’m here for your issues, not mine. I know there’s something more than the paparazzi.”
Kris took a breath to steady himself, then told Adam about the letter. He didn’t need to have it in front of him to tell Adam every word - it was burned into his brain.
Adam was concerned. “You took it to somebody, right? ‘Cause that could be dangerous, you never know.”
“Yeah, I took it right away. But I kept thinking about it, wondering if the guy was in Portland, at the show, or waiting along the outside by the buses. I don’t remember being afraid like that before. It’s disturbing.” And try as he might to hold it in, Kris found himself crying. Adam pulled him up from the chair and just held him. Kris was the “non-cryer” of the men in his family, but this was too much. He let out the fear, the pent-up emotion, leaning against Adam’s strong chest. He let Adam share the fear.
They stood there a long time. Kris felt Adam stroking his head. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. So sorry. This shit just got real, didn’t it?” Adam bent down and kissed his hair. “ It’s gonna be okay, I promise.” Kris believed Adam. It was going to be okay.
They stood back a moment, looking at each other. Adam shook his head. “I’ll never understand that hate, but I guess you think the way you were raised, you know? And I’m sorry you got that awful word ‘faggot’ flung at you because of me.”
Kris spoke from his heart. “If you’re a ‘faggot,’ Adam, then it must be a beautiful word, not an awful one. I’m proud to have it said about me.”
Adam pulled him close again. “Damn it, Kris, you are so sweet, so innocent. The hate that’s out there really does take you by surprise, doesn’t it?”
Kris nodded into Adam’s shoulder. “It’s fuckin’ messed up, man.”
“You know the answer for all that hate, don’t you?”
“Ummm, ‘whole lotta love’ maybe?”
“Exactly.”
“Could you handle it,” Kris asked, “if I stayed here tonight? I don’t want to be alone.”
“I’d be glad to be your hugging buddy tonight. I promise not to try anything.” Then Adam added with a grin, “Of course, you’ll have to forgive me if I get fresh in my sleep. I can’t control that.”
They lay in bed together, in each other’s arms, talking well into the night. Kris couldn’t remember feeling so loved.
****
Kris was coming out of deep slumber. Something felt familiar. He wasn’t alone. There was warmth in his bed, more than his own body could generate. He moved closer to it.
Something was unfamiliar as well. Spooning - but he was the “little spoon.” The body he was snuggled against wasn’t Katy. It was Adam. Adam was all softness, too, against him. All except for one area. Kris could feel his erection against him - not pressed hard, but there all the same. He felt himself grow hard, too, then willed himself to stop it.
They had slept in each other’s arms last night, Kris needing Adam like he’d never needed anyone before, Adam being there for him. This morning, Kris sensed how tough this had been for Adam. Last night he hadn’t given it a thought. He’d been selfish, needing Adam’s comfort. This morning, he’d need Adam’s self-control.
Kris wanted to look at him. He rolled from his side to his back and Adam’s arm went from draped across his body to resting on his stomach. The feeling of Adam’s hand resting against his skin, where his shirt was hiked up, gave him a shiver.
When he looked up, Adam was wide awake, just watching him. Kris took in his sparkling blue eyes, his “bed head” hair, the freckles that dotted his face. Adam “au naturale,” not made up to look gorgeous. This would always be the way he liked Adam best.
“Good morning, cutie,” Adam said. “I like your morning hairdo.”
“Yours is good, too.” Kris felt himself smiling.
Then there weren’t any words. Just eyes. Kris couldn’t break away from those eyes. He knew Adam wanted to kiss him, but Adam’s restraint was strong. He was holding on. He was waiting for Kris to make the move. Kris always knew it would have to be him.
Kris closed his eyes, just for a second. He could change the subject, pull away, say “thanks for being there - we’d better get up, busy day.” And Adam would act like this had never happened. They would go on being best friends.
I’d regret that the rest of my life, Kris thought. He opened his eyes, reached up with one hand to place it on Adam’s neck and pulled Adam’s mouth down to his. Adam let out a little moan and parted his lips, inviting Kris in. Kris accepted the invitation, pressing his tongue into Adam’s mouth, tasting him, caressing him. Adam pressed his body closer, erasing that tiny distance he had maintained, sliding his hand from Kris’s side down to Kris’s hip and pulling him in tight.
The world stopped in that moment, and there was only Adam. Kris forgot about the angst of the previous evening, the stalkers, the paparazzi, and Katy. He let Adam explore his mouth, too, and groaned as Adam took his lower lip into his mouth, nibbling and sucking it. Adam’s hand moved up, from Kris’s hip to his back, then behind Kris’s head, holding on, keeping Kris captive. A captive with no desire to escape.
Kris loved Adam’s gentleness. He sensed Adam wanted more, but Adam was taking it slow. Kris had been a mess last night - the first time he’d showed the side of himself that wasn’t laid back, “chill.” Adam probably didn’t want any more “freak outs.”
Adam finally released Kris, pulling back to lock eyes again. “You know I’d like to make love to you, don’t you?” He murmured.
Kris nodded. “Of course, I know. And you know I’m not ready, don’t you? You haven’t tried anything.”
“We have lots of days together ahead. “ Adam said. “I won’t mess up love for the sake of sex. My urges can wait.” Adam laughed. “There’s always a cold shower, or my left hand. I’ll be okay.”
Kris felt his heart give a little flutter. Adam didn’t just want to make him his plaything. Adam loved him. Kris nuzzled up against him, head tucked at Adam’s shoulder just below his chin, and let out a contented sigh.