Of Cabbages and Kings
They’re sitting on the couch, waiting for Danny to get back from the recording session before Kris is called in. At the beginning of the competition, Kris always thought it was amazing, how fast Adam could text, but now he just adds it to the super-long list of things at which Adam is naturally good. He fiddles with his own phone for a few moments before setting it on the table in front of the couches. He glances up at Adam, who is completely absorbed in what he’s doing, and sighs.
When Adam doesn’t look up, Kris shifts in his seat and sighs again, this time a little louder than before. Adam’s eyes move from his phone to Kris, but he says nothing. Kris puts on a bit of a pout and picks up the accent pillow from the middle of the couch. He tosses it at Adam’s head with just enough force that the San Diego native has to look at him.
“I said ‘sigh’,” Kris says loudly, faking an aggravation that is ultimately belied by the wide smile on his face.
“You just hit me in the face with a pillow,” Adam states flatly. Kris shrugs innocently.
“Are you sure it wasn’t Danny?” he asks. Adam narrows his eyes.
“Unless Danny can levitate a pillow through several winding corridors and simultaneously project an illusion into my head that makes me see you throwing a pillow at my head… Then, yeah, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t Danny,” he mutters, trying not to sound amused. Kris smirks coyly.
“I wouldn’t put it past him,” he admits conspiratorially. “Who knows what powers our bespectacled friend possesses?” Adam laughs at this despite himself. When Kris gets bored, Kris gets restless. And when Kris gets restless, he becomes noticeably more like a little kid. Adam thinks it’s precious, if he’s quite honest with himself. In the spirit of being honest with himself, however, he also has to admit that he always thinks Kris is precious. More than precious, really, but that’s beside the point.
“Why’d you hit me with the pillow?” Adam asks abruptly, catching Kris off guard and eliciting a guilty chuckle.
“Because I’m starved for attention,” he says playfully, though he and Adam both know that all the excess attention he’s been getting makes him a little uncomfortable. “And I’m sorry, Adam, but I’d like to think that I’m more interesting than a phone.” Adam looks at him questioningly.
“Kristopher, do you mean to say that you are jealous of my cellular telephone?” he gasps with practiced incredulity. Kris shrugs again, and Adam has to consciously stop his gaze from drifting to the well-toned shoulders barely obscured by Kris’ plain, white t-shirt.
“Maybe,” Kris admits. “But c’mon. It’s a little rude to just text away while your BFF is sitting over here, dying of boredom.”
“It’s also a little rude to hurl a throw pillow in your BFF’s face,” Adam counters. “At least tell me that you didn’t mess up my hair, Allen.” Kris studies Adam’s trademark locks and winces. Adam had spent the better part of an hour that morning getting it to stick up in just the right places. Kris hadn’t thought about that when he threw the pillow, but it had definitely messed up Adam’s hair.
“Sorry,” he apologizes immediately. At the sound of the sincere apology, Adam sighs and resigns himself to fixing his hair in the bathroom. He’s not looking forward to it, and the thoughts are running so strongly through his head that he’s completely thrown when he realizes that Kris is moving towards him on the couch.
“What are you doing?” Adam manages to ask before Kris leans across him, running fingers through his hair. Kris is focused on whatever it is that he’s doing, so it takes him a few seconds to answer.
“I’m fixing your hair,” he mutters distractedly. He ruffles his fingers through the Adam’s hair, shaking out the bit of gel and other product that Adam had treated it with that morning. He’s so busy playing with Adam’s hair that he doesn’t realize how red Adam has turned, which could roughly be described as the same shade as the walls around them.
Adam is frozen to the spot, his thoughts racing. How the paths left my Kris’ fingertips send a tingling sensation through his scalp, down his spine, and all the way to his toes. How Kris smells like Old Spice (Swagger, unless Adam is very much mistaken, and he knows he isn’t.). How Kris is basically straddling his thighs as he plays with Adam’s hair. How Kris is talking, but all Adam can hear is the melodic inflections of his voice rather than actual words. He notices that Kris is looking at him with concern, and then he slows his thoughts enough to hear what Kris is asking.
“You okay?” Kris asks again. “You look like you’re going to pass out.” Adam laments that Kris has no idea, but he isn’t about to tell his roommate that. Kris nods knowingly.
“I think I understand,” he sighs. Adam is speechless, something that rarely happens, though he notices that when it does, Kris is usually involved.
“You do?” he asks, only noticing how dry his mouth is when he fumbles over his tongue. Kris nods.
“You have no confidence in my ability to style hair,” he concludes. Adam does his best not to laugh because Kris has apparently attended the Giraud School of Obtuse Reasoning. But this is a perfect out to a potentially awkward disaster, so Adam nods gravely.
“’Fraid so,” he says wearily. Kris chuckles and goes back to playing with Adam’s hair.
“Well, fear not, Mr Lambert. It’s not like I just wake up with this,” he reassures, pointing at his own hair, which unfailingly reminds Adam of Doctor Who. The funny thing is that Adam is fully aware that Kris usually does wake up with his hair like that. But he doesn’t have much time to think about that because Kris returns to his ministrations, pausing thoughtfully every now and then to look at his work.
Adam likes to think that he has brilliant self-control, and usually he’s right. Right now, however, he feels like he’s getting drunk of off proximity, and he’s nothing short of mortified when he feels that oh-so-familiar feeling below the waistline. He hopes, hopes, hopes that Kris doesn’t notice, trying to think about anything but the piece of gorgeous sitting practically on his lap.
The time has come, The Walrus said, to talk of many things. Of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings, he thinks in a loop. When that doesn’t help, he ups the ante, adding Or why the sea is boiling hot, and whether pigs have wings to the mix. Unfortunately, it’s all over-powered when Kris leans in close, snaking his arm around the back of Adam’s head to play with the back.
Adam strategically moves his scarf in front of his physical reaction, cursing to himself for wearing such tight pants all the time. It’s not his fault he has great legs, after all. Thankfully, Kris sits back and puts his hands on his hips. He’s wearing a satisfied grin as he nods with approval.
“I think it looks good down,” he declares, brushing his fingers across Adam’s bangs. Before Adam can say anything, Kris is sliding off of him and heading towards the bathroom. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go wash the gel off of my hands.” Adam doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he nods fervently.
Kris is exiting the bathroom when Danny intercepts him and lets him know that the sound guys are ready for him. Adam glares upwards for a moment, wondering if he missed the memo from Fate that told him he wasn’t going to catch a break today. He immediately calls his voicemail, anything to dissuade Danny from talking to him.
Danny, bless him, knows how to take a hint and settles for a polite smile as he takes a seat on the couch. He sits on the other end by force of habit. His subconscious seems to know that the space next to Adam is always reserved for Kris. Not that either Adam or Kris has ever explicitly stated this, but Danny isn’t stupid. He pulls out his laptop and has a go at his e-mail before the silence gets to him.
“So,” he ventures at conversation, “What happened to your hair?”
“Kris hit me with a pillow, so he fixed it,” Adam blurts out, sounding borderline defensive. Danny picks up on this, but thinks it best to pretend that he doesn’t. Instead, he smiles good-naturedly.
“Well, it looks good,” he compliments, returning his attention to his e-mail. He pretends not to hear as Adam lets out a sigh of relief and pretends not to notice when Adam stands up, holding his scarf in place as he heads to the bathroom. Glancing at the section of the couch that Kris and Adam usually occupy, Danny makes sure he’s alone in the room before a full-on smile hits his features.
“I ship it,” he declares to no one in particular.
---
Author’s Notes: Inspired by this picture.
I think this is the closest that I’m ever going to get to writing smut (I’ve honestly no skill in the matter, trust me.) .
Not much to say about this one, really. Title comes from “The Walrus and the Carpenter” by Lewis Carroll. Yeah, yeah. I’m a Wonderland fangirl.
I liked the ending a lot more than the ending on my last one. That being said, it’s probably rubbish. Meh. We all know that Danny is a secret shipper. Don’t front.
For those of you unfamiliar with Doctor Who, I was totally comparing Kris’ hair to The Doctor’s, as seen here.
And I think that’s pretty much it. Hope you enjoyed it!
When Adam doesn’t look up, Kris shifts in his seat and sighs again, this time a little louder than before. Adam’s eyes move from his phone to Kris, but he says nothing. Kris puts on a bit of a pout and picks up the accent pillow from the middle of the couch. He tosses it at Adam’s head with just enough force that the San Diego native has to look at him.
“I said ‘sigh’,” Kris says loudly, faking an aggravation that is ultimately belied by the wide smile on his face.
“You just hit me in the face with a pillow,” Adam states flatly. Kris shrugs innocently.
“Are you sure it wasn’t Danny?” he asks. Adam narrows his eyes.
“Unless Danny can levitate a pillow through several winding corridors and simultaneously project an illusion into my head that makes me see you throwing a pillow at my head… Then, yeah, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t Danny,” he mutters, trying not to sound amused. Kris smirks coyly.
“I wouldn’t put it past him,” he admits conspiratorially. “Who knows what powers our bespectacled friend possesses?” Adam laughs at this despite himself. When Kris gets bored, Kris gets restless. And when Kris gets restless, he becomes noticeably more like a little kid. Adam thinks it’s precious, if he’s quite honest with himself. In the spirit of being honest with himself, however, he also has to admit that he always thinks Kris is precious. More than precious, really, but that’s beside the point.
“Why’d you hit me with the pillow?” Adam asks abruptly, catching Kris off guard and eliciting a guilty chuckle.
“Because I’m starved for attention,” he says playfully, though he and Adam both know that all the excess attention he’s been getting makes him a little uncomfortable. “And I’m sorry, Adam, but I’d like to think that I’m more interesting than a phone.” Adam looks at him questioningly.
“Kristopher, do you mean to say that you are jealous of my cellular telephone?” he gasps with practiced incredulity. Kris shrugs again, and Adam has to consciously stop his gaze from drifting to the well-toned shoulders barely obscured by Kris’ plain, white t-shirt.
“Maybe,” Kris admits. “But c’mon. It’s a little rude to just text away while your BFF is sitting over here, dying of boredom.”
“It’s also a little rude to hurl a throw pillow in your BFF’s face,” Adam counters. “At least tell me that you didn’t mess up my hair, Allen.” Kris studies Adam’s trademark locks and winces. Adam had spent the better part of an hour that morning getting it to stick up in just the right places. Kris hadn’t thought about that when he threw the pillow, but it had definitely messed up Adam’s hair.
“Sorry,” he apologizes immediately. At the sound of the sincere apology, Adam sighs and resigns himself to fixing his hair in the bathroom. He’s not looking forward to it, and the thoughts are running so strongly through his head that he’s completely thrown when he realizes that Kris is moving towards him on the couch.
“What are you doing?” Adam manages to ask before Kris leans across him, running fingers through his hair. Kris is focused on whatever it is that he’s doing, so it takes him a few seconds to answer.
“I’m fixing your hair,” he mutters distractedly. He ruffles his fingers through the Adam’s hair, shaking out the bit of gel and other product that Adam had treated it with that morning. He’s so busy playing with Adam’s hair that he doesn’t realize how red Adam has turned, which could roughly be described as the same shade as the walls around them.
Adam is frozen to the spot, his thoughts racing. How the paths left my Kris’ fingertips send a tingling sensation through his scalp, down his spine, and all the way to his toes. How Kris smells like Old Spice (Swagger, unless Adam is very much mistaken, and he knows he isn’t.). How Kris is basically straddling his thighs as he plays with Adam’s hair. How Kris is talking, but all Adam can hear is the melodic inflections of his voice rather than actual words. He notices that Kris is looking at him with concern, and then he slows his thoughts enough to hear what Kris is asking.
“You okay?” Kris asks again. “You look like you’re going to pass out.” Adam laments that Kris has no idea, but he isn’t about to tell his roommate that. Kris nods knowingly.
“I think I understand,” he sighs. Adam is speechless, something that rarely happens, though he notices that when it does, Kris is usually involved.
“You do?” he asks, only noticing how dry his mouth is when he fumbles over his tongue. Kris nods.
“You have no confidence in my ability to style hair,” he concludes. Adam does his best not to laugh because Kris has apparently attended the Giraud School of Obtuse Reasoning. But this is a perfect out to a potentially awkward disaster, so Adam nods gravely.
“’Fraid so,” he says wearily. Kris chuckles and goes back to playing with Adam’s hair.
“Well, fear not, Mr Lambert. It’s not like I just wake up with this,” he reassures, pointing at his own hair, which unfailingly reminds Adam of Doctor Who. The funny thing is that Adam is fully aware that Kris usually does wake up with his hair like that. But he doesn’t have much time to think about that because Kris returns to his ministrations, pausing thoughtfully every now and then to look at his work.
Adam likes to think that he has brilliant self-control, and usually he’s right. Right now, however, he feels like he’s getting drunk of off proximity, and he’s nothing short of mortified when he feels that oh-so-familiar feeling below the waistline. He hopes, hopes, hopes that Kris doesn’t notice, trying to think about anything but the piece of gorgeous sitting practically on his lap.
The time has come, The Walrus said, to talk of many things. Of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings, he thinks in a loop. When that doesn’t help, he ups the ante, adding Or why the sea is boiling hot, and whether pigs have wings to the mix. Unfortunately, it’s all over-powered when Kris leans in close, snaking his arm around the back of Adam’s head to play with the back.
Adam strategically moves his scarf in front of his physical reaction, cursing to himself for wearing such tight pants all the time. It’s not his fault he has great legs, after all. Thankfully, Kris sits back and puts his hands on his hips. He’s wearing a satisfied grin as he nods with approval.
“I think it looks good down,” he declares, brushing his fingers across Adam’s bangs. Before Adam can say anything, Kris is sliding off of him and heading towards the bathroom. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go wash the gel off of my hands.” Adam doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he nods fervently.
Kris is exiting the bathroom when Danny intercepts him and lets him know that the sound guys are ready for him. Adam glares upwards for a moment, wondering if he missed the memo from Fate that told him he wasn’t going to catch a break today. He immediately calls his voicemail, anything to dissuade Danny from talking to him.
Danny, bless him, knows how to take a hint and settles for a polite smile as he takes a seat on the couch. He sits on the other end by force of habit. His subconscious seems to know that the space next to Adam is always reserved for Kris. Not that either Adam or Kris has ever explicitly stated this, but Danny isn’t stupid. He pulls out his laptop and has a go at his e-mail before the silence gets to him.
“So,” he ventures at conversation, “What happened to your hair?”
“Kris hit me with a pillow, so he fixed it,” Adam blurts out, sounding borderline defensive. Danny picks up on this, but thinks it best to pretend that he doesn’t. Instead, he smiles good-naturedly.
“Well, it looks good,” he compliments, returning his attention to his e-mail. He pretends not to hear as Adam lets out a sigh of relief and pretends not to notice when Adam stands up, holding his scarf in place as he heads to the bathroom. Glancing at the section of the couch that Kris and Adam usually occupy, Danny makes sure he’s alone in the room before a full-on smile hits his features.
“I ship it,” he declares to no one in particular.
---
Author’s Notes: Inspired by this picture.
I think this is the closest that I’m ever going to get to writing smut (I’ve honestly no skill in the matter, trust me.) .
Not much to say about this one, really. Title comes from “The Walrus and the Carpenter” by Lewis Carroll. Yeah, yeah. I’m a Wonderland fangirl.
I liked the ending a lot more than the ending on my last one. That being said, it’s probably rubbish. Meh. We all know that Danny is a secret shipper. Don’t front.
For those of you unfamiliar with Doctor Who, I was totally comparing Kris’ hair to The Doctor’s, as seen here.
And I think that’s pretty much it. Hope you enjoyed it!