All Good Things (A "Day Off Day" Series Continuation)

[trueroyalty]

Title: All Good Things
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Kradam, mentions of Kris/Katy & Adam/Drake
Word Count: 5,516
Author Says: Another un-beta'd piece. If you notice any mistakes, blame me & let me know, please! No, seriously, you'd better tell me. Also, I'm kinda mean to both our boys in this third installment of the whole "Day Off Day" series, but only in an UST way. I'm still working on Adam's POV for part 2 (DOD Continued). ANYway, on with the fic. Thanks so much, everyone- you're all amazing!! :D You make us writers want to write and share, & we love you for it.

Previous Part(s): Day Off Day & Day Off Day (Continued) AKA: Kris' Existential Crisis Day


“Okay.” Kris breathes, shaking himself all over the way he does before performing. He pushed the voice in his head insisting this isn’t fair, and instead focuses on a mental image of Katy. Katy with the golden hair and the blue eyes and the adorable giggle-laugh she has. Katy with tears in her eyes, silently begging Kris to please, do this for me. Do this for us. Katy with the ring that he slipped on her finger that day, promising to be everything she wanted, everything she’d ever need, and that he’d love her forever. That word shouldn’t make Kris’ stomach twist the way it does. It didn’t used to. When did forever sound more like an obligation and less like not-long-enough?

You know when.

Kris wishes he didn’t. He really wishes that voice would shut up, but he’s been wishing that for some time now, and it just won’t.

It’s called ‘the voice of reason’ Kristopher. As in, there’s a reason for these words. It’s because you can’t admit, even to yourself, that there’s a truth you’re being purposely obtuse about--

‘Purposely obtuse’? When did he start talking like that?

Maybe I’m not you.

Oh, bite me.

No, really, think about it. You fight me constantly, I say things you refuse to even think on your own, and I’m never wrong. Obviously, I’m not you.

Kris sniffs at the voice’s insult, trying not to let other people know he’s having an argument with his brain. I mean, really. It’s Kris’ brain. Who else would be yapping on in there?

You know who.

Okay, you know what, now you can shut up.

Kris smiles reassuringly at the poor tech who happened to be in the path of his glare. He just glared at his own mind. Maybe something really is wrong.

Except none of that matters now, because the reason for his current panic-attack just walked in the room.

There really is nothing like watching Adam Lambert work a room. Even if he’s only walking in, he may as well have his own theme music or something, because it’s instantaneous- every eye in the room is pulled in by his gravity. Kris thinks he’s actually seen Adam walk by a line of girls, and have them, one-by-one, faint away with a loud sigh and their hands to their foreheads. Okay, fine. Not just girls. Age, gender, orientation- these are words that mean absolutely nothing when it comes to falling for Adam Lambert. He defies… everything. Even his hair joins in, defying gravity. And then there’s those eyes--

Hating to interrupt, but don’t you have a mission of sorts, here?

Kris wants a new brain. This one’s defunct. And pushy. And mean.

Adam catches Kris’ eye from half-way across the room. His face seems to go on autopilot, lighting up into that happy place it goes when he sees his best friend, before it stutters to a painful-looking halt, and Adam quickly diverts his attention elsewhere.

Well. Isn’t this going to be fun? Looks like Kris isn’t the only one who got a talking-to yesterday.

And here I was, hoping at least Adam would have had a nice Day Off Day.

There’s nothing either of them can do to make this situation easier, or just go away, no matter how badly they want it to, so Kris decides to be the brave one. Adam is always the strong one, the one carrying everyone else. He’s got enough to deal with; Kris is going to try and shoulder the heavier of the burdens on this one. It’s mostly his fault, anyway.

Katy’s Pa always says, “There’s no present like the present.” Kris isn’t really sure why he says that so often, but he can’t seem to get it out of his mind now.

Like gravity, the pull of the moon on the tides, the arc of the sun across the sky toward the horizon, there is no escaping the inexorable draw. The inevitable collision of paths. Lives so deliciously tangled, without consent, without awareness, and it’s almost enough to make Kris believe in Fate.

“The Universe is a fickle whore, Kris, and Fate is her most lucrative client- her ‘whale’ and her watch dog, trussed up in diamonds and the prettiest lies you’ll ever hear. Only knowing who you are, standing firm on the things you believe- really believe, heart and soul- that’s the only way to keep yourself from being ripped apart in beautiful tragedy.”

Adam certainly has a way with words. Kris is pretty sure that if he tried, Adam could make grown men weep from hearing him read the instructions on a Pop-Tart box or magazine advertisements.

But none of that matters right now. Nothing matters, except the fact that Kris and Adam’s orbits have crossed each other, magnetic poles bent to the will of nature.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"Um, Adam can I--"
"Kris, there's something--"

Well, that's one way to break the ice into this hopelessly awkward conversation. The laughter, so familiar, so welcome in this prelude, dies a strangled death in both throats. Two pairs of eyes- one, deep caramel brown, the other, rings of grey-cerulean blue- search for distraction, scanning everywhere except where they want to be.

"Do you think we could--" Adam's hand gestures toward an unoccupied room.

"Yeah. Yeah, that'd be..." Kris can't find a way to finish the sentence, so he leaves it undone, ghosting in the air behind him as he follows Adam.

The stale air tastes vaguely yellow, souring in Kris' nose and mouth. He takes a deep breath anyway.

The two men, who have never felt uncomfortable around each other, feel the tangible, forced distance like a single lance shoved through the middle of them both.

Adam, itching to end this silence and just get this over with, jokes, "Well. This sucks." His voice is choked; their laughter honest, but pained.

"Did- do you want to go first, or...?"

Adam sighs, finally looking Kris in the eye. "Does it matter? We both know what this is about."

Kris shies his eyes away, blushing angry and frustrated. He nods. His mouth opens to say "Yeah" but no sound comes out. Adam hears him anyway. He always does.

"Are you-" Adam pauses a moment, not knowing if this would be too personal, but at this point, it all seems so futile, so he goes on, "You and Katy- are you alright? I mean--"

"Yeah, no, yeah, we're- we're fine. It's--"

"Good. Good. Cuz I wouldn't want this to--"

"No, no it's not. This is-" Kris looks back at Adam, giving up on whatever was holding him back, "God, this is so stupid!" Kris nearly stomps his foot.

"Thank you!" Adam doesn't mean to burst out like that; doesn't mean to say that at all, but it's- it's just Kris. He can say anything in front of Kris.

"I know! I mean, what-- wh- how did this even--"

"I don't know. I don't even know!"

"This is crazy, man." Kris steps closer to Adam, relaxing.

"I know." Adam cards long fingers through his hair, blowing out a big breath of tension, glad that even this conversation- this freaking insanity, is more like it- is still marked with their KrisAndAdam vibe. The one only he and Kris get.
"I mean, okay, I get it, ya know? How it might look, how it apparently does look, especially to our S.O.'s, I really do. You know, Drake made some really good points about how he was feeling, and I'm guessing they were pretty similar to the ones Katy made."

Kris nods, "We look at each other more than at them." He mutters, just clear enough to be understood, but obviously not feeling what he was saying.

"Yeah. That's it exactly. And I know that you and I know it isn't the same, but I can see how it could-- I can understand the- the jealousy, I guess. I mean, do you--?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know exactly what you're saying. It's right. We just--" Kris sighs, flopping down on the threadbare couch. "Did- did, um- were you told anything? Ya know, to, like, do or whatever?"

Adam joins Kris on the couch, automatically going to sit right beside him, but switching gears at the last second and sitting sideways, back against the opposite arm of the couch, legs curled up, sure to not touch Kris but still be able to look at him.

"Yeah." He looks sheepish. "You?"

"Yeah." Kris looks more angry than embarrassed, and Adam fights down the happy thrill it gives him. At least he's not alone in his frustration over this. Not that he wants Kris to be hurting, but if Adam's got to be miserable, at least he'll have Kris for company. Except he won't. Because that's the whole problem. Too much Kris in his life. That's about the stupidest thing he's ever heard, and he still can't believe his ears actually heard it said, because, come on, 'too much Kris'? That doesn't even make sense! In Adam's mind, one can never have enough Kris Allen. Period.

Adam's feet keep slipping, his boots slick on the couch fabric, but he's determined to keep his too-long legs separated from Kris' adorable self. Even though, at any other time, he'd have kicked his legs out, full-stretch, plopped his boots in Kris' lap, and that'd be that.

Kris notices Adam's struggle, and starts to get that tingling heat that comes every time he thinks about this forced separation. It starts in the back of his throat and works up into his ears and nose and behind his eyes until he feels like his whole head is full of fizzy pop and he wants to gag. But, instead of scratching his burning eyes out and digging his fingers into his throat until that god-awful feeling is ripped away, he reaches out, grabs hold of the tip of Adam's boot, and nearly yanks it onto his lap.

"Kris!"

"I don't care!" Kris never raises his voice. Not in anger. The knot that formed in his stomach when Kris shouted is something Adam will chalk up to surprise and some nervousness (and certainly not anything like lust). Kris' voice lowers in volume, but raises in intensity, "I don't care."

"Kris--"

Kris ignores Adam and pulls the other boot-clad foot onto his lap. Surprising both of them, Adam doesn't move. Of course, Kris keeping his arm locked over Adam's ankles with a look of determination that no one would dare cross, that helps.

Adam shoves his face into his hands, frustrated growls peeking out through the spaces of his fingers.

"Adam. It's stupid. I know what I told Katy, I know all of this, but right now, it just seems so frickin' stupid."

Adam separates his fingers, staring at Kris through his hand-mask. He wants to say Kris is totally right, that this whole thing has been blown so far out of proportion it's like calling a puddle the Atlantic, and you know what, just screw them all, who cares, we know the truth and that's what counts. He wants to tell Kris that he matters more than anyone else, that their friendship means more to him than any other relationship he's ever had, that Kris means more to him than almost anyone he's ever even known, that he loves him and screw the consequences of that truth. Kris would understand. He'd know exactly what Adam meant. He'd get it. Just like they always get what the other is- and isn't- saying.

-'you love him? You love me? You say it to him all the time.' 'It’s not the same.' 'It’s still the words you won't say to me.'-

And, aye, there's the rub. Too early seen unknown and known too late. Adam wonders when he started equating Kris and Shakespeare- and so randomly. He shrugs mentally, diligently ignoring the traitorous whisper of 'right about the time you fell in love with him, idiot.'

He's not in love with him. He's not. It isn't-- Why is he justifying himself to himself? What is wrong with him?

Maybe that day off wasn't what you needed, Adam.

Kris nods solidly, eyes so securely locked onto Adam's, there may as well be a physical beam between the two pairs. Of course Kris would see it. Of course he'd stare into Adam's eyes, read everything he's thinking like a transcript of his unspoken diatribe, and absolutely know, just know- like looking into a mirror and knowing it's your reflection. They go beyond a sympathetic relationship; they are empathic. Not in an "Fantastic, you're one of them" kind of way, but in an honest-to-Ra melding of their spirits, their minds, their hearts, their souls- they share physical pain, mental distress, emotions of every sort, thoughts and secrets and smiles and gestures- they share everything, and they don't even try. They are Kradam. The fans don't even understand how accurate their mashed-up nickname really is.

They.Are.Kradam.

How are they supposed to separate from that? How can anyone expect them to just... break up? They are Siamese twins in every way but birth, and they have to extract themselves from one another with, what, a piano wire? Exacto-knife? Laser beam? How do you separate entwined hearts?

"I don't know." Kris whispers, lips hardly moving, barely registering he even said anything. Adam doesn't ask what he means, or how he knew the questions in his mind. He already knows.

They are Kradam.

"So, I guess that's it, then." Kris says after the longest two minutes of his and Adam's lives. Adam gives him a quizzical look. "We don't have a choice. Or, well, we can pretend that we do, but it's not like either of us are really gonna say, ya know, 'screw you, partner-I'm-dedicated-to' or anything." His mouth stays open, the words 'It's just a friendship' suffocating under the pressure of honesty. It isn't. It isn't just anything.

Maybe it's not supposed to be this way, being this close, this attached, this... needy. Maybe Adam and Kris are the ones in the wrong. It certainly seems to be the popular opinion, them being wrong. Wrong together, wrong kind of people, too wrong to be friends. Maybe everyone else is right- majority rules and all that.

Everyone used to think the sun revolved around the Earth, too. All except that one guy -Copernicus?- and maybe a few others (Kris didn't do too well with history in school), but he knew something about the way people believed wasn't right. And look how that turned out. People are so quick to call something they don't understand or something new 'crazy'. So quick to dismiss anything that might change their point of view, might make them need to rethink some things, might prove them wrong- people really don't like to find out they don't know everything and aren't perfect. Kris has never been one of those people.

Adam finally finds his voice. "This doesn't mean we can't be friends. We just- maybe we just, I dunno, cool it with the touching in public. Hang out more with the other guys. I mean, there's already stuff Drake wants me to do, attention-wise, for him," and if Adam says that with a tinge of bitterness, Adam doesn't acknowledge it in any other way, and Kris swallows the spike of ire at the demand for more attention, when he knows Adam does everything he can... yes, Kris swallows that, and tries to ignore the stomach ache it gives him. Katy didn't make a demand like that.

Adam's looking at Kris expectantly. Which is what Kris gets for spacing out and letting his thoughts get the better of him.

"Um, well, not- not really. I mean, she wasn't so much upset about-- she just wanted me to see--" Kris cuts himself off before he can humiliate himself.

Adam, thankfully, doesn't seem to know what Kris was actually going to say. He tries to help Kris along, "To see... that maybe we're a little too close for her comfort?" He says it gently and without spite.

Kris takes the out. "Yeah. Somethin' like that, yeah."

They both nod and shuffle around as much as they can without actually moving, the nervous tension having crept back up on them.

"She doesn't have a problem with you." Kris feels Adam needs to be reassured. "It really isn't about that, you know, like- it's- she likes you, and she likes that we're friends, there was just this thing--" Oh my God, shut up, Kris!

And now Adam asks, "Thing?" But before Kris can -poorly- lie his way out of this gaping hole -also known as his mouth- he's stepped into, Adam continues with some trepidation, "Is it-" He's so brave, Kris is constantly amazed. "Is it because I'm gay? Does she think I'm--"

"No! No, no, no. No. That's not it at all. I swear, Adam, it really doesn't have anything to do with you- well, I mean, obviously, it does, but not, like-- It's not about a problem with you. Or- or even with me and you, really. It's--" Seriously, man, shut the frick up!

"Oh. Okay, well, that's good." Adam is visibly relieved. He would never take advantage of Kris. Ever. And he'd mangle anyone who tried.

"Yeah."

"Cuz, that- that's- that's good." Oh, very smooth, Lambert.

Adam wants to reassure Kris, too, but he doesn't think he can. Not without lying. Honestly, Adam doesn't think Drake likes Kris all that much. In fact, Adam is thinking Drake maybe doesn't like Kris kind of a lot, if that painfully awkward lunch the three of them had is any indicator. Adam thinks maybe there's a pretty good reason for that animosity, though. It's hard to fault a man whose crime is being aware of facts.

Except for how he's now making the best friendship you've ever had awkward and uncomfortable. How he's putting limitations on who you can spend time with, and how you're allowed to spend that time, and even when, a little bit. But you promised. You made a promise and you've never broken your word- you aren't going to do that to yourself. You said the words, now you live up to them.

"I take it part of Drake's problem is with me?" The light tease in Kris' voice makes Adam far happier than it really should, and it makes up for the sick punch to his gut at the mention of ... his name. What the--? Since when did--? Oh, never mind.

Adam doesn't want to respond, because then he actually has to say the words, and the words make him nauseous. He says them anyway. "Yeah. Yeah, it kind of is. It's just the whole," Adam flails his hand around, "'Kris is distracting' thing."

Kris flushes lightly in his cheeks. It still affects him when Adam says things like that, even flippantly or in reference to something else. To distract Adam Lambert, well, that'll make anyone feel like strutting and floating around at the same time.

"I don't know how many times I tried to explain it, but..." Adam trails off. Kris nods again, eyebrows raised in understanding.

"Yeah, I know." Whatever else Kris was going to say, died on his tongue when he looked over to see Adam's head thrown back, long, ridiculously long neck stretched out like an invitation for sin. A flash of pushing Adam's legs off of his lap, crawling over him, and licking from collarbone to ear went through Kris' mind, sending a small thrill of panic through him.

Adam sighs heavy and long, eyes closed, blood rushing to the top of his head. Maybe, when he puts his head back up, this whole thing will have been some wretched nightmare. He and Kris can laugh about the absurdity of it.

Dizzy, with ears ringing and his vision spotty, Adam blinks his way back into the land of the upright. Kris' face comes clear, pinked cheeks and ears, tight-set jaw, hard, far-off stare that could crack the tile that he's chosen as the scapegoat for his pent-up emotions. Reality beats nightmare as the worst thing to be happening that doesn't include, like, a zombie attack or something.

Adam wiggles his foot to get Kris' attention.

"What did Katy ask of you?"

Kris' blush intensifies and he darts his eyes away from Adam's.

"Oh- you don't have to tell me. Sorry. Sorry, that was- I wasn't trying to pry, I just--"

"No, it's fine. You know I don't--" He doesn't care what Adam asks him. They've never had that problem, and the fact that this one conversation is more awkward and painful and wrong than any other they've ever had- including all the not-exactly-sober ones- is making Kris feel like all his energy, all his everything is being sucked out and is trying to explode out of the skin that suddenly feels alien. "She just, um, I think all she really wanted to do was make me see her side of things."

"And do you?" Kris looks back at Adam inquisitively. "I mean, I know we both get it, but do you really see her side of this?"

Kris doesn't know quite what to say. "Um, I- I think so?" Very convincing.

Adam shifts himself up a little more, sitting straighter and looking at Kris more intently. "Were you able to see what she sees?"

-It's the same face. 'You look at him like he holds all the answers to the universe'-

He doesn't want to say 'yes' because, even now, even after seeing the undeniable evidence, Kris still can't believe that he wouldn't know something as huge as Katy's accusations. He would know if he were in love with Adam. He would.

Kris emboldens himself and looks Adam in the... eyebrow. Wuss. "S-sort of?" Oh, yes, definitive and manly, Kristopher. Good job. "I mean, I did. I did see what--" Nope. Don't say that. "She showed me--" Yeah, best not to go there, man. Try again.

Kris sighs. He can't seem to talk for all the chatter in his brain. Adam finally catches his gaze, and Kris' brain shuts up. How does he do that?

"I saw what she wanted me to see, but I was a lot more convinced of... stuff, before I came in here." And since Kris' brain is pleasantly mute, his mouth decides to assert itself. "It's like, a lot of the things she was saying totally made sense when she was saying them, but the minute I see you- bam! -it all turns to gibberish, and the only thing that does make sense is us. Is this, ya know? Like, our world and their worlds aren't the same. I don't know- I think I'm starting to sound crazy. I think I might be going crazy, man! I mean--"

Kris is starting to panic and flail, so Adam does exactly what he always does on those rare occasions when Kris is the one freaking out. In one graceful motion, Adam swings his legs down from Kris' lap and onto the floor, and slides close enough to gather Kris in his arms, petting the back of his head and shushing him while Kris' breathing evens out in the crook of Adam's neck.

"It's okay, Kris. Shhh- it's going to be alright, I promise. You're not going crazy, okay? We just- well, I've never been on the same page as the rest of the world, and you've gotten sucked into my little orbit of weird, but it's okay now. Everything's going to work out. It's all gonna be fine, Kris. Okay?"

Kris jerks out a nod, still planted in between Adam's neck- he smells like make-up, but no cologne today -and his shoulder- his shirt's a synthetic fabric, but not dry-clean only, so Kris is glad for that. What he isn't so keen on, is how he actually knows that. It takes about five nanoseconds for Kris to stop caring. He takes a deep, wet breath against Adam, and pulls back enough to realize he can't let go. Can't and won't. So he puts his arms around the middle of his best friend, sets his chin on Adam's shoulder, and holds on tight. Adam tries to squirm away, but gives in after a few failed attempts. It wasn't exactly a heartfelt effort.

"How am I supposed to- how can we not do this anymore?" Kris' plaintive voicing of both of their thoughts breaks Adam a little inside, and he wraps his arms around Kris as tight as they'll go without crushing the little guy. He ducks his head and mimics Kris' previous position, nose in the crook of Kris' neck, mouth barely grazing the top of his collarbone.

Adam shifts his face upward, lips placed pressureless between the crook of Kris’ neck and his collarbone. Kris’ hands, palms flat on Adam’s back, don’t so much grip Adam’s shirt, as seize stiffly and burn purchase right through to the skin beneath. Kris’ full-body shiver pushes his skin closer in to Adam's lips. In a moment of blind reaction, Adam rubs the tip of his nose along the softness of Kris’ neck before placing an actual kiss to it. Trying to keep contact, Kris leans into the kiss, and Adam moves his bottom lip to take in a fraction more space, the inside barely grazing skin, just enough to get Kris’ taste.

Which is when Adam realizes what the last six seconds were all about.

He jerks back, panic in his eyes and apology on his tongue. A teeny noise of disappointment asserts itself from Kris’ throat. He doesn’t notice. Adam does, but belatedly, already starting to stutter out a retraction on the inadvertent peck. Kris automatically gives assurances that it’s fine, even before his brain kicks into gear.

“Kris?” It’s slow, gentle, deliberate.

“Really, Adam, I don’t even know why you’re--”

“Kris.” He enunciates, a little sharper, startling Kris into eye-contact. It still takes a full two seconds to click that, yeah, he was totally staring. Blatant, outright, and entirely focused on Adam’s mouth.

And now you’re blushing again. Idiot.

Kris tries the guppy impersonation a few times, but isn’t feeling it, so he shuts his mouth and waits for the fallout.

“That was a really stupid thing to do.” Yep. “Especially now, with--” Kris continues the small nods of reluctant agreement. “I really am sorry, Kris. I don’t know what my lips were thinking, but they didn’t consult me first, I swear.”

Of course. Of course Adam would continue to blame himself, no matter the circumstance. He’s Adam. Kris starts to shake his head, a frown and eyebrow furrow appearing.

Adam barrels on, “So, can we just erase the last few seconds, there- chalk it up to momentary insanity or something, and move on?”

He looks hopeful. Kris should take this out. He should thank his guardian angel -though, maybe next time, could it keep him from falling for his best friend to begin with?- and let it go. He wonders if Adam did it on purpose, the blame-taking. Adam’s always protected Kris, and now it seems he thinks he needs to protect Kris from this, too.

Kris wants to say ‘No. No, we cannot erase that; no, we will not move on; no, this is not your fault- except for that little bit where it is, but other than that, no. You should always think with your lip-brain, and could we maybe go back to insane, if that’s what you want to call it, just so long as it involves more of those lips being on me, cuz that’d be awesome.' He wants to put his hand on the back of Adam’s neck and pull him back in- to his neck, his mouth, Kris really doesn’t care- and that’s a lie, Kris totally wants to suck that clever tongue into his own mouth. He wants for Adam to take control, to work him over the way he does a song, or maybe like in those pictures- the ones Kris stared and stared at until his eyes crossed and he had them memorized, and, God, did he really not get it until yesterday? Kris has never considered himself an unintelligent person, but sometimes… It doesn’t escape him that those “some” have all been Adam-related times. There are moments, though, and they’re getting more frequent, when Kris wonders how stupid, exactly, is too stupid to live? Because, honestly, Kristopher.

Yeah, Kris wants all those things. And since he’s been surprising even himself lately, it’s potentially a good thing that one of the stage crew chooses that moment to find the two of them. The door swings open, startling all three men, the crewman leaning back out to yell, “Found ‘em!”

Adam had yanked himself back from Kris, even thought that only ever serves to make the party look guilty, it was a knee-jerk reaction. Kris, however, doesn’t so much as attempt to pull away, or move at all for that matter. They’re always touching and hugging and off talking like this -clue number eleventy-seven, Kris?- so it’s not like this is an unusual situation or anything.

“You guys are wanted for sound check in five.” The two on the couch nod, and the crew guy, satisfied with a mission complete, closes the door and walks away.

Kris’ hand had slipped, and now rested on Adam’s hip, of which both men have become very aware. Adam closes his eyes and breathes out as quietly as he can, so as to not alarm Kris, or give away how much more of that could really lead to Adam locking the door and teaching Kris all about the things one can do while holding on to hips. Oh-so-helpfully, Adam’s traitorous libido throws him images of rolling inside Kris, who arches under him, breathless.

Desperate to get Kris’ attention off of that area, Adam repeats, “So, are we good?”

It doesn’t work. Kris continues to be mesmerized by his own hand in what is becoming an increasingly inconvenient region for Adam. Kris licks his lips and Adam’s self-preservation kicks into high, nearly hurling him up and off the couch, out of Kris’ reach.

Ice caps… Ice caps melting… Sad polar bears and penguins… Breathe, Lambert!

Kris shakes his head, blinking away the mental images of his hand flexing on Adam’s hip without those ridiculously tight jeans in the way. Sucking a mark into the dip between hipbone and pelvis, nibbling on the jutting ridge, inside lip to outer swell. Of holding on tight and letting Adam do anything he wanted. He wishes his brain would stop replaying “I like the top” and all Kris knows that means.

Clue Number Eleventy-Eight: being far too intrigued, and, fine, interested in Adam’s sexploits and their conversations about them. Bonehead.

Wonder how hard it is to get out of those jeans- or, ya know, into them?

Kris! Seriously, who are you, anymore, man?!

“Yeah.” Kris thinks he said that. “Yeah, we’re good. Of course we’re good, Adam. We’re us.”

Adam’s face says, ‘Which would be everyone’s problem, remember?’ so Kris’ face responds, ‘Still stupid. But, yeah, okay.’ He looks away before his eyes can betray the ‘if that’s what you really want’ to Adam. It’s not what either of them want, and that wouldn’t be fair.

“We are still us. We’re just gonna be a little less overtly ‘us’ for a while. It’ll be nice to, um, get to--” Adam looks a bit lost, but then turns wickedly gleeful, “It’ll be a great time to un-scorn Matt.”

Out of all the things Kris meant to say, including plain laughter, what comes out is, “I love you, Adam.”

Crap. Crap, crap, frick and crap!

The stricken look on Adam’s face says it all. They both want to just cry, and they need to be out on stage, like, a minute ago, and it kind of feels like the actual world is breaking apart.

It’s hardly more than a whisper, but there’s so much- Kris’ heart aches to the point of physical bruising when Adam says, “I love you, too, Kris.”

Kris decides they need their own world, one without all the stupid keeping them apart. Preferably one where Kris is still clueless about his feelings for his best friend.

And then Adam is walking out the door and Kris is following, both a bit shell-shocked and numb, and it’s all Kris can do to keep from humming “keep a-coolin’, baby” from Whole Lotta Love, because then his mind shows him Adam performing Whole Lotta Love, and that way leads to nothing good or sane. He watches Adam head down the corridor leading to the stage.

The idea of grabbing Adam’s obscenely perfect backside with both hands and biting, then licking and biting his way up Adam’s spine, his neck, fingers threading thick through Adam’s hair, stealing rough kisses until Adam decides it’s enough and reclaims command-- flushes over Kris.

“Frick.”