"How Do You Sleep While the City's Burning?" (Adam/Kris friendship, PG-13)
Title: "How Do You Sleep While the City's Burning?"
Rating: PG-13 for language only
Pairing: Adam/Kris (friendship)
Word Count: 1,643
Notes: For ncgrrrl as part of my Dollar Donation Drive. No beta, all errors are mine - I wrote all but 500 words of this on my Palm Treo, so they're likely abundant. BACKSTORY: We always make jokes about the Jim Cantiello interview where Kris talks about fanfic and Jim tells him that they involve Kris and Adam (paraphrasing here) "getting ice cream, going to the movies, being best friends, and saving a dying child." SO. When I decided to do the Dollar Donation Drive, the gauntlet was thrown down to see if I could actually make this happen in a believable way. So I wrote it, except I had to scrap the ending for the original version. Damn it. Enjoy 2.0.
- - - - -
It must be incredibly fucking easy to be Kris Allen, Adam thinks as he scans the grocery aisle for evaporated milk. Everything about him is so smart and fresh and deceptively innocent - and they've spent enough time stuck in close quarters together for Adam to know that Kris has a sarcastic side and a bizarre sense of humor. And even that part is perfect, because what's a hero without a step off the mainstream? He decides, based on personal belief and lack of evidence to the contrary, that if Kris got a paper cut he'd probably bleed sunshine and honey.
"Did you find it?" Adam jumps a little as Kris comes up beside him with a shopping cart. It already contains milk and rock salt, along with a few other groceries Kris mentioned needing before they left Adam's house. The only task he gave Adam was finding the evaporated milk, and look how that turned out. Further evidence that Kris is perfect. Damn it.
Kris looks down at Adam's empty hands and shakes his head, then leans across him to pick up a can of evaporated milk. It was practically staring Adam in the face, naturally.
"Have you actually done this before?" Adam asks after the groceries are loaded into the backseat of his car. "I have a hard time believing that it's really this simple."
Kris shakes his head as if he can't even believe Adam has the balls to ask the question. "That's almost an insult. Homemade ice cream is a southern institution. I was born knowing how to make ice cream. Now give me the keys. I want to drive your car."
Adam hands over the keys willingly because Kris is perfect, after all - an excellent driver, never had a speeding ticket in his entire life, keeps his hands at the 10 and 2 points at all times, blah blah perfect blah. Adam has already put two dents in the Mustang since he brought it home.
Kris parks the car neatly in the driveway when they get back to his house; Katy comes out to help them unload the bags. "We're making ice cream?" she asks when she picks up the bag that contains the rock salt. "I don't think we've made any since that cookout we had when we first moved in. I'll have to dig out the ice cream freezer."
"I think it's on the bottom shelf in the hall closet," Kris tells her. "Adam's never had homemade ice cream before."
Katy stops halfway up the front steps to look at Adam. "Never? Wow, this is going to be a treat for you. Kris is a homemade ice cream expert."
"It's not that hard," Kris says modestly. "I'm not doing anything special with it today, just regular vanilla."
"Even 'just regular vanilla' is wonderful.” Katy winks at Adam as she opens the front door. "Just wait. You'll never want to eat store-bought ever again."
- - - - -
The concept of homemade ice cream makes sense to Adam, sure, but the execution gives him a little trouble. He watches as Kris mixes the canned milk with half of the gallon of whole milk they got at the store, then adds two full cups of sugar. "This is going to send me straight to carb hell, isn't it?" Adam wonders.
"It's ice cream. What do you think?" Katy says, handing Kris two eggs out of the refrigerator. “It’s not supposed to be health food. Gaining an ounce or two won’t hurt you.”
“I have leather pants that I have to fit into next week, and I don’t think wardrobe will be pleased if I’m popping out of them.” But he has to admit that the idea of a bowl of ice cream - maybe with a little bit of warm caramel drizzled on top, or fresh strawberry slices - sounds delicious. He doesn’t realize until then that he’s forgotten to eat lunch; his stomach growls promptly as if he had it on a timer.
He continues studying the process as Kris pours his mixture in a tall metal cylinder, which then goes into a giant plastic tub waiting in the kitchen sink. Lid snapped into place, Katy pulls the ice bucket out of the freezer and adds a handful of cubes at a time, surrounding the metal container as Kris pours generous amounts of rock salt over the ice every time Katy creates a new layer, all the way to the top of the tub.
Kris fastens the motor to the top with an audible snap, then plugs it into the wall outlet nearest the sink. Adam jumps as the cylinder begins to churn against the ice; the noise of the machine is much louder than he expected. "Is it supposed to be like that?" he asks over the noise. "It's kind of obnoxious."
"That's normal," Kris says. He starts loading the dishwasher while Katy pulls a platter of meat from the fridge. Adam follows her outside because as much as he's interested in the process, he's not in the mood for intolerable noises.
- - - - -
The ice cream is maybe the best thing Adam has ever eaten - better than the steak-and-salad dinner Katy just served, better than warm fresh-baked bread, better than lunch at his favorite, most expensive restaurant. The moment Katy places the bowl in front of him and hands him a spoon, it's over - the thought of carbs and counting calories flies out the window.
"Oh my God," he says between bites, practically licking the spoon each time. "You were right. Who would ever bring home ice cream in a carton when they could make this?"
“I won’t say ‘I told you so,’” Kris starts, “but…”
“We so told you so,” Katy says, with no small amount of satisfaction.
- - - - -
Adam is about to finish the small container of ice cream he brought home with him for breakfast - okay, brunch - when Kris calls. “What do you think about going to a movie today?” he asks when Adam says hello.
They don’t actually have the same taste in movies, and they’ll inevitably stand at the ticket window for ten minutes debating on what to see, but Kris is his best friend, and how often are they both at home without anything on their schedules? Every two weeks between never, that’s how often. Adam looks down at the pajama pants he had originally intended to wear until at least afternoon, and reluctantly sits down his spoon. “Okay, but I’ll need some time to get ready.”
“So what you’re telling me is that I have plenty of time to go to lunch with Katy, right?”
Adam looks at the clock, then steps into the hallway to look at the small mirror hanging on the wall. “Plenty of time. A long, sit-down lunch with appetizers. And dessert.”
- - - - -
The movie that they compromise on isn’t that bad; Adam doesn’t want to take a nap or scream or walk out at any given point, which is a bonus. Kris is a good choice to see a movie with, anyway, because he and Adam both like to crack jokes about whatever it is they’re seeing. And they can share a bucket of popcorn without Kris slathering on ten pounds of butter like certain other people Adam occasionally goes with to the theater - say, Allison, for example.
Kris sees it before Adam does - there’s a woman standing up two rows ahead and to the right, and she’s got something in her arms. A baby, Adam realizes, no, more like a toddler, and then the woman starts screaming.
“Choking, I think,” Kris says to Adam, and he’s already in motion. He hops over the row of seats in front of them in a single move, then leans over the second row to take the child from the woman. Adam tries to jump over the row of seats, too, but because he is in no way Saint Kristopher, he ends up with a boot lace tangled on an arm rest and almost falls.
By the time Adam untangles himself, Kris has already dislodged a nacho chip - who feeds their toddler nachos? Adam thinks - from the kid’s airway. The woman is crying and hugging the child and trying to hug Kris, too, crushing him to her side.
“It’s fine, everything’s fine,” Kris keeps saying, until the woman finally calms down. She thanks him, looking dazed, then takes the child and leaves.
Kris sits down in her empty seat and presses his head against his hands. The movie is still playing on the screen; Adam wonders if anyone would have noticed that the woman needed help if he and Kris hadn’t been there, or if she would have gotten her wits about her enough to help her kid. “Are you okay?” Adam asks, sitting beside him.
Even in the dark Kris looks a little gray; Adam realizes he's absolutely freaked out about what just happened - calm, collected Kris has totally disappeared, and when Adam touches his arm the skin is a little clammy. “That was scary,” Kris says weakly. “I didn’t think I’d ever use skills I practiced on a dummy in a church basement.” And then he slumps over, passed out in the chair, head to the left and mouth slightly open.
Adam catches him before he falls to the floor or cracks his head on an armrest or something equally lame. And really, it’s not funny, but it so totally is. “Not as perfect as I always thought,” he says when Kris wakes up. “I guess even a real-life Superman has his flaws.”
“Screw you, Adam,” Kris mumbles, and then his eyes widen as he tries to scramble from the seat. “Oh, shit. I think I need to throw up.”
Rating: PG-13 for language only
Pairing: Adam/Kris (friendship)
Word Count: 1,643
Notes: For ncgrrrl as part of my Dollar Donation Drive. No beta, all errors are mine - I wrote all but 500 words of this on my Palm Treo, so they're likely abundant. BACKSTORY: We always make jokes about the Jim Cantiello interview where Kris talks about fanfic and Jim tells him that they involve Kris and Adam (paraphrasing here) "getting ice cream, going to the movies, being best friends, and saving a dying child." SO. When I decided to do the Dollar Donation Drive, the gauntlet was thrown down to see if I could actually make this happen in a believable way. So I wrote it, except I had to scrap the ending for the original version. Damn it. Enjoy 2.0.
- - - - -
It must be incredibly fucking easy to be Kris Allen, Adam thinks as he scans the grocery aisle for evaporated milk. Everything about him is so smart and fresh and deceptively innocent - and they've spent enough time stuck in close quarters together for Adam to know that Kris has a sarcastic side and a bizarre sense of humor. And even that part is perfect, because what's a hero without a step off the mainstream? He decides, based on personal belief and lack of evidence to the contrary, that if Kris got a paper cut he'd probably bleed sunshine and honey.
"Did you find it?" Adam jumps a little as Kris comes up beside him with a shopping cart. It already contains milk and rock salt, along with a few other groceries Kris mentioned needing before they left Adam's house. The only task he gave Adam was finding the evaporated milk, and look how that turned out. Further evidence that Kris is perfect. Damn it.
Kris looks down at Adam's empty hands and shakes his head, then leans across him to pick up a can of evaporated milk. It was practically staring Adam in the face, naturally.
"Have you actually done this before?" Adam asks after the groceries are loaded into the backseat of his car. "I have a hard time believing that it's really this simple."
Kris shakes his head as if he can't even believe Adam has the balls to ask the question. "That's almost an insult. Homemade ice cream is a southern institution. I was born knowing how to make ice cream. Now give me the keys. I want to drive your car."
Adam hands over the keys willingly because Kris is perfect, after all - an excellent driver, never had a speeding ticket in his entire life, keeps his hands at the 10 and 2 points at all times, blah blah perfect blah. Adam has already put two dents in the Mustang since he brought it home.
Kris parks the car neatly in the driveway when they get back to his house; Katy comes out to help them unload the bags. "We're making ice cream?" she asks when she picks up the bag that contains the rock salt. "I don't think we've made any since that cookout we had when we first moved in. I'll have to dig out the ice cream freezer."
"I think it's on the bottom shelf in the hall closet," Kris tells her. "Adam's never had homemade ice cream before."
Katy stops halfway up the front steps to look at Adam. "Never? Wow, this is going to be a treat for you. Kris is a homemade ice cream expert."
"It's not that hard," Kris says modestly. "I'm not doing anything special with it today, just regular vanilla."
"Even 'just regular vanilla' is wonderful.” Katy winks at Adam as she opens the front door. "Just wait. You'll never want to eat store-bought ever again."
- - - - -
The concept of homemade ice cream makes sense to Adam, sure, but the execution gives him a little trouble. He watches as Kris mixes the canned milk with half of the gallon of whole milk they got at the store, then adds two full cups of sugar. "This is going to send me straight to carb hell, isn't it?" Adam wonders.
"It's ice cream. What do you think?" Katy says, handing Kris two eggs out of the refrigerator. “It’s not supposed to be health food. Gaining an ounce or two won’t hurt you.”
“I have leather pants that I have to fit into next week, and I don’t think wardrobe will be pleased if I’m popping out of them.” But he has to admit that the idea of a bowl of ice cream - maybe with a little bit of warm caramel drizzled on top, or fresh strawberry slices - sounds delicious. He doesn’t realize until then that he’s forgotten to eat lunch; his stomach growls promptly as if he had it on a timer.
He continues studying the process as Kris pours his mixture in a tall metal cylinder, which then goes into a giant plastic tub waiting in the kitchen sink. Lid snapped into place, Katy pulls the ice bucket out of the freezer and adds a handful of cubes at a time, surrounding the metal container as Kris pours generous amounts of rock salt over the ice every time Katy creates a new layer, all the way to the top of the tub.
Kris fastens the motor to the top with an audible snap, then plugs it into the wall outlet nearest the sink. Adam jumps as the cylinder begins to churn against the ice; the noise of the machine is much louder than he expected. "Is it supposed to be like that?" he asks over the noise. "It's kind of obnoxious."
"That's normal," Kris says. He starts loading the dishwasher while Katy pulls a platter of meat from the fridge. Adam follows her outside because as much as he's interested in the process, he's not in the mood for intolerable noises.
- - - - -
The ice cream is maybe the best thing Adam has ever eaten - better than the steak-and-salad dinner Katy just served, better than warm fresh-baked bread, better than lunch at his favorite, most expensive restaurant. The moment Katy places the bowl in front of him and hands him a spoon, it's over - the thought of carbs and counting calories flies out the window.
"Oh my God," he says between bites, practically licking the spoon each time. "You were right. Who would ever bring home ice cream in a carton when they could make this?"
“I won’t say ‘I told you so,’” Kris starts, “but…”
“We so told you so,” Katy says, with no small amount of satisfaction.
- - - - -
Adam is about to finish the small container of ice cream he brought home with him for breakfast - okay, brunch - when Kris calls. “What do you think about going to a movie today?” he asks when Adam says hello.
They don’t actually have the same taste in movies, and they’ll inevitably stand at the ticket window for ten minutes debating on what to see, but Kris is his best friend, and how often are they both at home without anything on their schedules? Every two weeks between never, that’s how often. Adam looks down at the pajama pants he had originally intended to wear until at least afternoon, and reluctantly sits down his spoon. “Okay, but I’ll need some time to get ready.”
“So what you’re telling me is that I have plenty of time to go to lunch with Katy, right?”
Adam looks at the clock, then steps into the hallway to look at the small mirror hanging on the wall. “Plenty of time. A long, sit-down lunch with appetizers. And dessert.”
- - - - -
The movie that they compromise on isn’t that bad; Adam doesn’t want to take a nap or scream or walk out at any given point, which is a bonus. Kris is a good choice to see a movie with, anyway, because he and Adam both like to crack jokes about whatever it is they’re seeing. And they can share a bucket of popcorn without Kris slathering on ten pounds of butter like certain other people Adam occasionally goes with to the theater - say, Allison, for example.
Kris sees it before Adam does - there’s a woman standing up two rows ahead and to the right, and she’s got something in her arms. A baby, Adam realizes, no, more like a toddler, and then the woman starts screaming.
“Choking, I think,” Kris says to Adam, and he’s already in motion. He hops over the row of seats in front of them in a single move, then leans over the second row to take the child from the woman. Adam tries to jump over the row of seats, too, but because he is in no way Saint Kristopher, he ends up with a boot lace tangled on an arm rest and almost falls.
By the time Adam untangles himself, Kris has already dislodged a nacho chip - who feeds their toddler nachos? Adam thinks - from the kid’s airway. The woman is crying and hugging the child and trying to hug Kris, too, crushing him to her side.
“It’s fine, everything’s fine,” Kris keeps saying, until the woman finally calms down. She thanks him, looking dazed, then takes the child and leaves.
Kris sits down in her empty seat and presses his head against his hands. The movie is still playing on the screen; Adam wonders if anyone would have noticed that the woman needed help if he and Kris hadn’t been there, or if she would have gotten her wits about her enough to help her kid. “Are you okay?” Adam asks, sitting beside him.
Even in the dark Kris looks a little gray; Adam realizes he's absolutely freaked out about what just happened - calm, collected Kris has totally disappeared, and when Adam touches his arm the skin is a little clammy. “That was scary,” Kris says weakly. “I didn’t think I’d ever use skills I practiced on a dummy in a church basement.” And then he slumps over, passed out in the chair, head to the left and mouth slightly open.
Adam catches him before he falls to the floor or cracks his head on an armrest or something equally lame. And really, it’s not funny, but it so totally is. “Not as perfect as I always thought,” he says when Kris wakes up. “I guess even a real-life Superman has his flaws.”
“Screw you, Adam,” Kris mumbles, and then his eyes widen as he tries to scramble from the seat. “Oh, shit. I think I need to throw up.”