airpsfic: four pm
I'm exactly one section from done on one help_haiti fic and it's shorter than War and Peace. That is totally cause for celebration. One. Section. That's like, a finish and beta away from postable.
Four PM
by Seperis
AIRPS, Adam/Kris
Loosely related to One AM. Amicable divorces that end in everyone being friends are seriously not all they're cracked up to be.
Thanks to svmadelyn for reading and correcting.
Kris and any social event is a new and exciting exercise in contradiction. Because weirdly--and yes, Adam should have seen this coming--going with Kris when he was married to someone else is a universe different than going with him when he's dating him. Kris is friendly, flirtatious, and when drunk, amazingly tactile, all things that were huge motivators to drag him pretty much anywhere Adam could get him to go, but that was before, and now there's after. Before, people hit on Kris and it was hilarious; after, weirdly enough, Adam kind of wants to kill them all. He's not picky on how, either.
It's not that he doesn't recognize the irony; it's just that after three drinks and five frighteningly overt offers while he's sitting there, Adam takes a moment to indulge in self-reflection. Before, he was a really cool friend who thought it was cute to see Kris handle multiple offers in an hour period; after, he's trying to remember what that was like, because seriously, he's one drink and forty-five short seconds away from a Behind the Music special detailing how it all went horribly wrong intercut with pictures of him in a hideous orange jumpsuit and the words life sentence scrolling across the bottom of the screen.
Then there's the Allen family gatherings, which just goes to show there are worse things that realizing you're kind of a jealous dick; occasionally, there's Katy.
It's not that Katy's the vengeful type--though there are a few two am drunk-dial phone conversations that have led to not a few nightmares and serious consideration of moving himself and Kris somewhere tropical and not available on googlemaps--but more the habit of interactions were set for them far too long ago to get over it. Because while they liked each other when they first met and everything, and sometimes, they sort of admit they still do, there's also the fact they spent two years fighting for Kris' attention and you don't just get over that kind of conditioning. It would have been easier if they'd admitted this to themselves early on, but by the time Adam realized what they were actually doing, it was way too late to stop. Or you know, want to, since he was sort of winning.
Which leads to today, sharing this very special fourth of July with Kris' parents, his brother and his brother's family, a undifferentiated plethora of people who fall under the heading of 'relatives' and 'friends', and Katy, Katy's new husband, and Katy's entire family. Which just goes to show that amicable divorces that end in everyone being friends are seriously not all they're cracked up to be.
Example: two hours (and counting) of carefully negotiated conversation about the weather (sunny) and sports (in preparation for this will be a twenty-four hour ESPN marathon the day before with Brad and Cassidy because fuck if he's going to suffer this shit alone. It's research. With alcohol. God, so much alcohol). This is how Adam knows its baseball season (probably) and the Yankees are involved (he thinks).
Avoided topics: anything Adam's sang, done, worn, or had thrown at him on stage in the last three months; Kris' adventures in cosmetics; and the latest headlines from any entertainment site major and minor. Lesson learned.
(Topics to Proceed With Caution (and Alcohol for Plausible Deniability): the music industry; politics; and occasionally, random queer-eye fashion consultant for the straight and Conway-ish. Conway will never be Paris, but that doesn't mean Adam can't damn well try.)
Kris wanders over with a plate and a beer, settling beside Adam on the couch before deploying his most dangerously effective weapon: pointed obliviousness. "Hey," he says to Katy's dad, who just finished challenging Adam's understanding of the twilight triple-header, stabbing a piece of brisket cheerfully. "What's up?"
Adam picks at the laces of his boots thoughtfully. "The Yankees," he hazards; it was something to do with something that involved a ball and a suspicious number of primarily male groups sweating together. In retrospect, Adam could have avoided a lot of misunderstanding (and a shitload of wasted time) if he'd really understood why Kris liked watching those locker-room interviews so much.
Kris beams at how brilliantly Adam's fitting into his life and times, taking a bite of potato salad and pretends that no one is staring at the silver nailpolish on three fingers (they got distracted before Adam could finish). Katy, sitting on the recliner in their direct line of sight, looks up from her magazine with a bright smile, and cue hideously awkward conversation times two. "Kris," she says, "I stopped by the condo in LA and picked up a couple of things; you need to change cleaning services, baby. There's dust on everything."
Adam stares at the ceiling for a second. Avoided topic: do not talk about where Kris lives, because Adam's already explained his intentions to his not-quite-in-laws and Kim Allen is totally a second mother, but she has Opinions at people living together before marriage. The explanation that they couldn't get married in California was not considered sufficient, and it's not like Adam thinks she could by sheer brute determination force the Arkansas legislature to pass gay marriage or anything to make sure her child isn't living in unwed sin; it's that he can't prove she won't and until then, Kris had better answer his home phone regularly or else.
Leaning into the doorway, Kim smiles at them in reminder she's well aware of the concept of forwarding.
"Huh," Kris says with a commendable amount of utter bemusement, "I really should. Adam, I'm calling yours on Monday. They're really good at getting things fixed. Especially after what happened in the kitchen."
The room contemplates what utterly filthy acts Adam perpetuated on poor Kris in the kitchen that required a cleaning service instead of logically assuming that they set the kitchen on fire, as people do sometimes when flambé goes so very, very wrong.
Katy smiles in satisfaction. "Good idea. Adam, I hear your tour is starting soon."
Not avoided topic: really should be. "Rehearsals started last week," Adam says carefully, taking a pickle from Kris' plate to give himself time to think as other family members scent blood and wander in to watch. "We don't have a set schedule yet."
"I guess Kris will get lonely in LA while he's recording," Katy says, smiling at Kris sympathetically and not implying anything about Adam alone on tour with groupies. And his band. Fun.
"Nah, I'll fly out. Tommy promised to keep Adam entertained when I can't," Kris answers, sweetly sincere. There's a brief silence while everyone remembers all the youtube footage from his concerts, and judges Adam silently. "Do the beans taste funny?"
Holding out his fork, Kris waits while Adam contemplates killing him softly, with a song.
Taking the bite reluctantly, he looks up in time to see the corner of Kris' mouth curl up and chews quickly to avoid choking on a laugh. "Not enough salt." Reaching over, he taps Kris' fingers. "You chipped the polish."
Kris lifts his hand, studying at it like he's never imagined such a thing. "Huh. Can you fix it for me?" Kris asks, eyes dancing, then sets down his plate, giving Katy's dad a winning smile. "Watch this for me? We'll be back."
Reaching for Adam's hand, Kris pulls him unresistingly out of the utterly silent room, and Adam pretends for the sake of his sanity that Kim didn't just vanish into the kitchen to laugh herself sick. "I hate you," Adam mutters, but warms a little at the memory of Katy's narrow-eyed glare. "Having fun?"
"Like you wouldn't believe," Kris answers a little breathlessly, pushing him back into the wall for a kiss, slow and filthy and sweet all at once. "Complaining?"
Adam tries not to grin and fails as Kris pulls him toward their room. "No."
Four PM
by Seperis
AIRPS, Adam/Kris
Loosely related to One AM. Amicable divorces that end in everyone being friends are seriously not all they're cracked up to be.
Thanks to svmadelyn for reading and correcting.
Kris and any social event is a new and exciting exercise in contradiction. Because weirdly--and yes, Adam should have seen this coming--going with Kris when he was married to someone else is a universe different than going with him when he's dating him. Kris is friendly, flirtatious, and when drunk, amazingly tactile, all things that were huge motivators to drag him pretty much anywhere Adam could get him to go, but that was before, and now there's after. Before, people hit on Kris and it was hilarious; after, weirdly enough, Adam kind of wants to kill them all. He's not picky on how, either.
It's not that he doesn't recognize the irony; it's just that after three drinks and five frighteningly overt offers while he's sitting there, Adam takes a moment to indulge in self-reflection. Before, he was a really cool friend who thought it was cute to see Kris handle multiple offers in an hour period; after, he's trying to remember what that was like, because seriously, he's one drink and forty-five short seconds away from a Behind the Music special detailing how it all went horribly wrong intercut with pictures of him in a hideous orange jumpsuit and the words life sentence scrolling across the bottom of the screen.
Then there's the Allen family gatherings, which just goes to show there are worse things that realizing you're kind of a jealous dick; occasionally, there's Katy.
It's not that Katy's the vengeful type--though there are a few two am drunk-dial phone conversations that have led to not a few nightmares and serious consideration of moving himself and Kris somewhere tropical and not available on googlemaps--but more the habit of interactions were set for them far too long ago to get over it. Because while they liked each other when they first met and everything, and sometimes, they sort of admit they still do, there's also the fact they spent two years fighting for Kris' attention and you don't just get over that kind of conditioning. It would have been easier if they'd admitted this to themselves early on, but by the time Adam realized what they were actually doing, it was way too late to stop. Or you know, want to, since he was sort of winning.
Which leads to today, sharing this very special fourth of July with Kris' parents, his brother and his brother's family, a undifferentiated plethora of people who fall under the heading of 'relatives' and 'friends', and Katy, Katy's new husband, and Katy's entire family. Which just goes to show that amicable divorces that end in everyone being friends are seriously not all they're cracked up to be.
Example: two hours (and counting) of carefully negotiated conversation about the weather (sunny) and sports (in preparation for this will be a twenty-four hour ESPN marathon the day before with Brad and Cassidy because fuck if he's going to suffer this shit alone. It's research. With alcohol. God, so much alcohol). This is how Adam knows its baseball season (probably) and the Yankees are involved (he thinks).
Avoided topics: anything Adam's sang, done, worn, or had thrown at him on stage in the last three months; Kris' adventures in cosmetics; and the latest headlines from any entertainment site major and minor. Lesson learned.
(Topics to Proceed With Caution (and Alcohol for Plausible Deniability): the music industry; politics; and occasionally, random queer-eye fashion consultant for the straight and Conway-ish. Conway will never be Paris, but that doesn't mean Adam can't damn well try.)
Kris wanders over with a plate and a beer, settling beside Adam on the couch before deploying his most dangerously effective weapon: pointed obliviousness. "Hey," he says to Katy's dad, who just finished challenging Adam's understanding of the twilight triple-header, stabbing a piece of brisket cheerfully. "What's up?"
Adam picks at the laces of his boots thoughtfully. "The Yankees," he hazards; it was something to do with something that involved a ball and a suspicious number of primarily male groups sweating together. In retrospect, Adam could have avoided a lot of misunderstanding (and a shitload of wasted time) if he'd really understood why Kris liked watching those locker-room interviews so much.
Kris beams at how brilliantly Adam's fitting into his life and times, taking a bite of potato salad and pretends that no one is staring at the silver nailpolish on three fingers (they got distracted before Adam could finish). Katy, sitting on the recliner in their direct line of sight, looks up from her magazine with a bright smile, and cue hideously awkward conversation times two. "Kris," she says, "I stopped by the condo in LA and picked up a couple of things; you need to change cleaning services, baby. There's dust on everything."
Adam stares at the ceiling for a second. Avoided topic: do not talk about where Kris lives, because Adam's already explained his intentions to his not-quite-in-laws and Kim Allen is totally a second mother, but she has Opinions at people living together before marriage. The explanation that they couldn't get married in California was not considered sufficient, and it's not like Adam thinks she could by sheer brute determination force the Arkansas legislature to pass gay marriage or anything to make sure her child isn't living in unwed sin; it's that he can't prove she won't and until then, Kris had better answer his home phone regularly or else.
Leaning into the doorway, Kim smiles at them in reminder she's well aware of the concept of forwarding.
"Huh," Kris says with a commendable amount of utter bemusement, "I really should. Adam, I'm calling yours on Monday. They're really good at getting things fixed. Especially after what happened in the kitchen."
The room contemplates what utterly filthy acts Adam perpetuated on poor Kris in the kitchen that required a cleaning service instead of logically assuming that they set the kitchen on fire, as people do sometimes when flambé goes so very, very wrong.
Katy smiles in satisfaction. "Good idea. Adam, I hear your tour is starting soon."
Not avoided topic: really should be. "Rehearsals started last week," Adam says carefully, taking a pickle from Kris' plate to give himself time to think as other family members scent blood and wander in to watch. "We don't have a set schedule yet."
"I guess Kris will get lonely in LA while he's recording," Katy says, smiling at Kris sympathetically and not implying anything about Adam alone on tour with groupies. And his band. Fun.
"Nah, I'll fly out. Tommy promised to keep Adam entertained when I can't," Kris answers, sweetly sincere. There's a brief silence while everyone remembers all the youtube footage from his concerts, and judges Adam silently. "Do the beans taste funny?"
Holding out his fork, Kris waits while Adam contemplates killing him softly, with a song.
Taking the bite reluctantly, he looks up in time to see the corner of Kris' mouth curl up and chews quickly to avoid choking on a laugh. "Not enough salt." Reaching over, he taps Kris' fingers. "You chipped the polish."
Kris lifts his hand, studying at it like he's never imagined such a thing. "Huh. Can you fix it for me?" Kris asks, eyes dancing, then sets down his plate, giving Katy's dad a winning smile. "Watch this for me? We'll be back."
Reaching for Adam's hand, Kris pulls him unresistingly out of the utterly silent room, and Adam pretends for the sake of his sanity that Kim didn't just vanish into the kitchen to laugh herself sick. "I hate you," Adam mutters, but warms a little at the memory of Katy's narrow-eyed glare. "Having fun?"
"Like you wouldn't believe," Kris answers a little breathlessly, pushing him back into the wall for a kiss, slow and filthy and sweet all at once. "Complaining?"
Adam tries not to grin and fails as Kris pulls him toward their room. "No."