Fic: Collapsible Plans [3/?]
Title: Collapsible Plans [3/?]
Summary: AU. Kris leaves small town life behind to attend college in New York City. Who does he meet along the way that flips his world upside down?
Author: griggharris
Beta: gargoyles42
Pairing: Kris/Adam
Rating: Chapter is G. Fic is PG-13.
Word Count: 1,928
Disclaimer: The happenings are faker than Zaza in La Cage aux Folles.
Author’s Notes: Hello everyone! Apologies for the delay between chapters. I hope this one is pretty adequate. Enjoy!
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
= = =
Kris had clearly underestimated the meaning of “project.” For one thing, he hadn’t expected to be in Brad’s apartment all of four days later - an apartment, he soon learned, the man shared with Adam.
“He’s kind of like my ex-lover-slash-best-friend-slash-play-toy thing,” Brad had told him as they walked from Bergen Street Station to the third-floor apartment of an old Park Slope brownstone. “But he’s never there because he’s with Drake, so he’s not going to walk in on us or anything.”
Kris eventually learned to just keep nodding his head, and he tried to remain a bit inconspicuous as he stood there in the middle of Brad’s room. Brad was moving around enough for the both of them, clothes flying over his shoulder and occasionally hitting Kris - and usually the skimpiest, flashiest ones. Kris was attempting to curb his anxiety, because he hadn’t exactly known he’d been dragged there to be given a makeover, of sorts. The cabaret was that night, and Kris had been planning to go in the clothes on his back. He was truly content on wearing the same teal and red tartan shirt and jeans until the day he died, but Brad wasn’t having it.
“Is it okay if I take a look around?” Kris asked politely, because where he came from, looking around someone’s home without asking was called “snooping.”
“Oh, you do whatever you want, just don’t get lost.”
Lost, in a six hundred-square foot apartment? He chuckled at that and began to drift from the bedroom, his thumbs in his jean pockets.
However small the flat was, it was surprisingly posh. At least, you know, for a college apartment. The two bedrooms were small, but the central space, a bigger room with hardwood floors, exposed brick, and eight foot-tall ceilings, more than made up for it. The flat was immaculately clean, and funky portraits and prints hung from the walls, including a Liza Minnelli-style Andy Warhol.
Kris’ fingers traced over the edge of the sofa adorned with a throw blanket, and he squinted as the sun glared in his eye before taking a step away from it. It was then that he noticed a door opposite to Brad’s left slightly ajar. He looked over his shoulder before he tipped the door open with his fingertips, taking a step in.
This must have been Adam’s room, if you could even call it that. It looked more like an accidental closet or the sort of makeshift space underneath a staircase that rich people called “play rooms” for their children. But even still, this space was so very, very Adam, or at least what Kris knew of the man. Which, granted, after four days, was very little. But nonetheless, Adam Lambert had an essence to him and a vibe - hell, a fucking aura.
Kris glanced over his shoulder once more before stopping to look at pictures of family and friends taped to a mirror - fragments of Adam’s life that Kris could only begin to wonder about. Another Warhol print hung over the Japanese futon, covers still splayed open from that morning. The art was limited. The black leather jacket that Adam had worn the day they met was draped over a chair, and various articles of clothing decorated the floor in disarray.
It was then that a flash of metallic caught Kris’ gaze, and he turned his head to the dresser, where a precious, bedazzled brooch came into sharp focus. Like a moth to the flame, he approached it in a few steps, his lips curving into a delicate, curious smile. Adam had more than one, not to mention an eclectic collection of rings, pendants, and pocket watches. He picked up one of the rings, a beautiful and enormous, emerald-cut hunk of aqua marine topaz laid into silver.
It was then he noticed that he was no longer alone. He nearly leapt out of his skin at the sight of him, setting the ring back down in a plunk.
Adam stood in the doorway, smiling to himself and leaning against the doorframe. He was dressed down, like he’d just come from a long jog or he was dressing like a normal person for once, his raven hair feathered and clipped away from his face with a couple of barrettes. Kris could make out every pore and every lash, the familiar charcoal eyeliner faded.
“Do I have a fetching kleptomaniac in my lair? I might have to strip search you, you know.” Adam cocked one brow up and looked back at Kris, who smiled easily. It was then that a cheeky smile broke through Adam’s lips. For whatever reason, Adam knew he could trust this kid. He always had a knack for reading people’s motivations.
Kris shrugged back, his deep Arkansas grunt in full force. “I was just admiring. Cool stuff, man.”
Adam’s smile lingered as he approached Kris, his fingers brushing over the same ring Kris had been admiring. “It’s funny you should pick this one up-I’m especially fond it.”
“Must have cost you a small fortune,” Kris mumbled idly, glancing up at Adam. He was met with the most striking set of soft blue eyes.
Adam’s eyelashes fluttered slightly as a thought came to him, but he didn’t divulge any of the details. His breath was sharp as he took in a sharp inhale. “I won’t bore you with all the extraneous details, but it was given to me by a gypsy in Saint Petersburg.”
Kris’ brow crinkled. He had some family spread out across the Sunshine State, including a rich aunt and uncle who had settled in the very Southern tip. “Florida?”
“Russia,” Adam replied nonchalantly, picking up the ring and trying it on for size once more.
Kris didn’t know what to say at first. He may have been to Asia and had a little missionary experience under his belt, but he’d never been to Russia. Traveling on his own and picking jewelry off of gypsies seemed a little out of his league. “That’s pretty cool.”
Adam smiled fondly as he set it back into its place, neatly arranging it in a large, velvet box with the other rings, by color and size. He then grabbed the case and set it into a bottom drawer. He usually didn’t leave his precious stuff lying out. This was Brooklyn, after all.
Kris nodded his head slowly and chuckled again for no apparent reason. He then gestured loosely outside of the room. “Brad said you weren’t going to come over.”
Adam simply turned his head and gave Kris a look of bemusement. That’s all Kris really needed to see before he began to gesticulate wildly.
“Not that-oh god! No, it’s not what you think.” He laughed and his cheeks turned beet red. Brad’s apparent back story with Adam may have been intense enough, let alone Kris sending off the misconception that they were… that this…
Very little fazed Adam, and he crossed his arms as he leaned against his dresser. “I know how Brad works. He wanted me to see the ‘big reveal,’” he said using literal air quotes in the air. “Don’t even begin to question it, but he told me that he was going to rope you into coming here.”
Kris’ smile faded a little before he heaved a very weary sigh. He rubbed his thumb over his eye and managed to chuckle. “I’m terrified-honestly. I was planning to go in the clothes on my back.”
He watched Adam’s eyes flick up-and-down, from the floor to the top of Kris’ head. Adam kept his arms crossed and cracked a smile. “I don’t know, I kind of like the Arkansas farm boy thang. It suits you.”
Kris’ brow pierced as he looked up at the man standing beside him, surprised, bewitched, and a little bewildered. “I’m from-how did you-“
“Brad might have found you on Facebook. It looks like someone hasn’t changed their network.”
Kris opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off by Brad running into the room and brushing right past Adam. And before Kris could even get a word out, Brad was thrusting a collection of clothes at his chest, including one particular shirt that felt way too small in his grasp, even for his own frame. Adam’s laughter did nothing to placate Kris.
“You are going to look perfect in this. Go on, try it on. Don’t mind us. We won’t look,” Brad said in one breath, literally.
And like magic, the duo shared a mirrored look and leaned back, watching Kris expectantly. Kris looked back at them as if they had suddenly conjoined at the hip as one person and grown a third head. But what did he have to lose? He’d done this around all of his friends back home. He was just changing into a pair of clothes. So he took a step back and began to unsnap his shirt, glancing up as both the men watched him shamelessly.
He felt like a piece of ass.
And his suspicions were right. The shirt that Brad had lent, an amethyst button-down number with three-quarter-length sleeves… fit like a glove, hugging him in all the right places, especially as he was significantly more defined than the even more slender Brad. Kris nearly tripped over his short little legs as he pulled on the amazingly tight, black jeans that felt skinnier at the ankles than anywhere else. Kris could see Brad’s jaw hovering just an inch off the floor.
“Oh my god, if you could see yourself,” Brad admired, his fingers flying over his mouth before he wagged them away. “Oh my god, this is a moment. I love me. I helped him.” He grabbed Adam and kissed him on the lips, utterly besotted with his own self.
Adam made an apologetic face at Kris, who just shook his head and waved it off. “You look great.”
Kris opened his mouth to reply, but Brad pried his hands away and interjected quickly. “I’m not done, I’m not done!” He then reached down on to the bed, where he’d thrown a silver fox-colored leather jacket. He shrugged it over Kris’ shoulder and shifted one of his arms to push it through a sleeve, letting Kris take care of the other arm. The jacket felt snug and fitted around Kris’ shoulder line, and he played with the zipper a bit, eventually leaving it unzipped.
It was then that Kris caught a glimpse of himself in Adam’s mirror and took a step back. He had to admit, he thought he looked quite good. He had never worn anything quite so… form fitting. And despite the slight discomfort of denim riding so close between his legs, he could adjust to this.
Yeah, it was fine. He could do this. He glanced over his shoulder at the two men, who seemed to be watching him expectantly, as if waiting for the final verdict from the country bumpkin. He cracked a delicate smile and shrugged his shoulders back, his fingers playing with a button on his shirt. He had to think of a rebuttal. To what, who knows? But he had these new, cool, off-beat friends. He had to think of something.
“Are the two of you going to change, or are you just going to stand there and gawk for the next hour?”
He felt his confidence peak as Brad’s tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth, his cheeky smile infectious. Adam’s mouth spread wider, and he looked back at Kris as he shifted his hips and pulled away his shirt, tossing it at Kris’ face in a heap. “I like your thinking.”
Summary: AU. Kris leaves small town life behind to attend college in New York City. Who does he meet along the way that flips his world upside down?
Author: griggharris
Beta: gargoyles42
Pairing: Kris/Adam
Rating: Chapter is G. Fic is PG-13.
Word Count: 1,928
Disclaimer: The happenings are faker than Zaza in La Cage aux Folles.
Author’s Notes: Hello everyone! Apologies for the delay between chapters. I hope this one is pretty adequate. Enjoy!
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
= = =
Kris had clearly underestimated the meaning of “project.” For one thing, he hadn’t expected to be in Brad’s apartment all of four days later - an apartment, he soon learned, the man shared with Adam.
“He’s kind of like my ex-lover-slash-best-friend-slash-play-toy thing,” Brad had told him as they walked from Bergen Street Station to the third-floor apartment of an old Park Slope brownstone. “But he’s never there because he’s with Drake, so he’s not going to walk in on us or anything.”
Kris eventually learned to just keep nodding his head, and he tried to remain a bit inconspicuous as he stood there in the middle of Brad’s room. Brad was moving around enough for the both of them, clothes flying over his shoulder and occasionally hitting Kris - and usually the skimpiest, flashiest ones. Kris was attempting to curb his anxiety, because he hadn’t exactly known he’d been dragged there to be given a makeover, of sorts. The cabaret was that night, and Kris had been planning to go in the clothes on his back. He was truly content on wearing the same teal and red tartan shirt and jeans until the day he died, but Brad wasn’t having it.
“Is it okay if I take a look around?” Kris asked politely, because where he came from, looking around someone’s home without asking was called “snooping.”
“Oh, you do whatever you want, just don’t get lost.”
Lost, in a six hundred-square foot apartment? He chuckled at that and began to drift from the bedroom, his thumbs in his jean pockets.
However small the flat was, it was surprisingly posh. At least, you know, for a college apartment. The two bedrooms were small, but the central space, a bigger room with hardwood floors, exposed brick, and eight foot-tall ceilings, more than made up for it. The flat was immaculately clean, and funky portraits and prints hung from the walls, including a Liza Minnelli-style Andy Warhol.
Kris’ fingers traced over the edge of the sofa adorned with a throw blanket, and he squinted as the sun glared in his eye before taking a step away from it. It was then that he noticed a door opposite to Brad’s left slightly ajar. He looked over his shoulder before he tipped the door open with his fingertips, taking a step in.
This must have been Adam’s room, if you could even call it that. It looked more like an accidental closet or the sort of makeshift space underneath a staircase that rich people called “play rooms” for their children. But even still, this space was so very, very Adam, or at least what Kris knew of the man. Which, granted, after four days, was very little. But nonetheless, Adam Lambert had an essence to him and a vibe - hell, a fucking aura.
Kris glanced over his shoulder once more before stopping to look at pictures of family and friends taped to a mirror - fragments of Adam’s life that Kris could only begin to wonder about. Another Warhol print hung over the Japanese futon, covers still splayed open from that morning. The art was limited. The black leather jacket that Adam had worn the day they met was draped over a chair, and various articles of clothing decorated the floor in disarray.
It was then that a flash of metallic caught Kris’ gaze, and he turned his head to the dresser, where a precious, bedazzled brooch came into sharp focus. Like a moth to the flame, he approached it in a few steps, his lips curving into a delicate, curious smile. Adam had more than one, not to mention an eclectic collection of rings, pendants, and pocket watches. He picked up one of the rings, a beautiful and enormous, emerald-cut hunk of aqua marine topaz laid into silver.
It was then he noticed that he was no longer alone. He nearly leapt out of his skin at the sight of him, setting the ring back down in a plunk.
Adam stood in the doorway, smiling to himself and leaning against the doorframe. He was dressed down, like he’d just come from a long jog or he was dressing like a normal person for once, his raven hair feathered and clipped away from his face with a couple of barrettes. Kris could make out every pore and every lash, the familiar charcoal eyeliner faded.
“Do I have a fetching kleptomaniac in my lair? I might have to strip search you, you know.” Adam cocked one brow up and looked back at Kris, who smiled easily. It was then that a cheeky smile broke through Adam’s lips. For whatever reason, Adam knew he could trust this kid. He always had a knack for reading people’s motivations.
Kris shrugged back, his deep Arkansas grunt in full force. “I was just admiring. Cool stuff, man.”
Adam’s smile lingered as he approached Kris, his fingers brushing over the same ring Kris had been admiring. “It’s funny you should pick this one up-I’m especially fond it.”
“Must have cost you a small fortune,” Kris mumbled idly, glancing up at Adam. He was met with the most striking set of soft blue eyes.
Adam’s eyelashes fluttered slightly as a thought came to him, but he didn’t divulge any of the details. His breath was sharp as he took in a sharp inhale. “I won’t bore you with all the extraneous details, but it was given to me by a gypsy in Saint Petersburg.”
Kris’ brow crinkled. He had some family spread out across the Sunshine State, including a rich aunt and uncle who had settled in the very Southern tip. “Florida?”
“Russia,” Adam replied nonchalantly, picking up the ring and trying it on for size once more.
Kris didn’t know what to say at first. He may have been to Asia and had a little missionary experience under his belt, but he’d never been to Russia. Traveling on his own and picking jewelry off of gypsies seemed a little out of his league. “That’s pretty cool.”
Adam smiled fondly as he set it back into its place, neatly arranging it in a large, velvet box with the other rings, by color and size. He then grabbed the case and set it into a bottom drawer. He usually didn’t leave his precious stuff lying out. This was Brooklyn, after all.
Kris nodded his head slowly and chuckled again for no apparent reason. He then gestured loosely outside of the room. “Brad said you weren’t going to come over.”
Adam simply turned his head and gave Kris a look of bemusement. That’s all Kris really needed to see before he began to gesticulate wildly.
“Not that-oh god! No, it’s not what you think.” He laughed and his cheeks turned beet red. Brad’s apparent back story with Adam may have been intense enough, let alone Kris sending off the misconception that they were… that this…
Very little fazed Adam, and he crossed his arms as he leaned against his dresser. “I know how Brad works. He wanted me to see the ‘big reveal,’” he said using literal air quotes in the air. “Don’t even begin to question it, but he told me that he was going to rope you into coming here.”
Kris’ smile faded a little before he heaved a very weary sigh. He rubbed his thumb over his eye and managed to chuckle. “I’m terrified-honestly. I was planning to go in the clothes on my back.”
He watched Adam’s eyes flick up-and-down, from the floor to the top of Kris’ head. Adam kept his arms crossed and cracked a smile. “I don’t know, I kind of like the Arkansas farm boy thang. It suits you.”
Kris’ brow pierced as he looked up at the man standing beside him, surprised, bewitched, and a little bewildered. “I’m from-how did you-“
“Brad might have found you on Facebook. It looks like someone hasn’t changed their network.”
Kris opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off by Brad running into the room and brushing right past Adam. And before Kris could even get a word out, Brad was thrusting a collection of clothes at his chest, including one particular shirt that felt way too small in his grasp, even for his own frame. Adam’s laughter did nothing to placate Kris.
“You are going to look perfect in this. Go on, try it on. Don’t mind us. We won’t look,” Brad said in one breath, literally.
And like magic, the duo shared a mirrored look and leaned back, watching Kris expectantly. Kris looked back at them as if they had suddenly conjoined at the hip as one person and grown a third head. But what did he have to lose? He’d done this around all of his friends back home. He was just changing into a pair of clothes. So he took a step back and began to unsnap his shirt, glancing up as both the men watched him shamelessly.
He felt like a piece of ass.
And his suspicions were right. The shirt that Brad had lent, an amethyst button-down number with three-quarter-length sleeves… fit like a glove, hugging him in all the right places, especially as he was significantly more defined than the even more slender Brad. Kris nearly tripped over his short little legs as he pulled on the amazingly tight, black jeans that felt skinnier at the ankles than anywhere else. Kris could see Brad’s jaw hovering just an inch off the floor.
“Oh my god, if you could see yourself,” Brad admired, his fingers flying over his mouth before he wagged them away. “Oh my god, this is a moment. I love me. I helped him.” He grabbed Adam and kissed him on the lips, utterly besotted with his own self.
Adam made an apologetic face at Kris, who just shook his head and waved it off. “You look great.”
Kris opened his mouth to reply, but Brad pried his hands away and interjected quickly. “I’m not done, I’m not done!” He then reached down on to the bed, where he’d thrown a silver fox-colored leather jacket. He shrugged it over Kris’ shoulder and shifted one of his arms to push it through a sleeve, letting Kris take care of the other arm. The jacket felt snug and fitted around Kris’ shoulder line, and he played with the zipper a bit, eventually leaving it unzipped.
It was then that Kris caught a glimpse of himself in Adam’s mirror and took a step back. He had to admit, he thought he looked quite good. He had never worn anything quite so… form fitting. And despite the slight discomfort of denim riding so close between his legs, he could adjust to this.
Yeah, it was fine. He could do this. He glanced over his shoulder at the two men, who seemed to be watching him expectantly, as if waiting for the final verdict from the country bumpkin. He cracked a delicate smile and shrugged his shoulders back, his fingers playing with a button on his shirt. He had to think of a rebuttal. To what, who knows? But he had these new, cool, off-beat friends. He had to think of something.
“Are the two of you going to change, or are you just going to stand there and gawk for the next hour?”
He felt his confidence peak as Brad’s tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth, his cheeky smile infectious. Adam’s mouth spread wider, and he looked back at Kris as he shifted his hips and pulled away his shirt, tossing it at Kris’ face in a heap. “I like your thinking.”