Vignettes: New York State of Mind
Title: Vignettes: New York State of Mind
Author: sweet_poeia
Pairing:Adam Lambert/Kris Allen
Rating: PG
Words: 1,060
Disclaimer: Completely fabricated. No disrespect intended.
Notes: Schmoop without plot. Fluff tapas, if you will. Title from the Billy Joel song.
Summary: A collection of moments in a New York hideaway.
The bed is empty, the flannel sheets (plaid, Neil’s sense of humor) limp and cool in the moonlight. The two former inhabitants of the bed are cocooned in a down comforter by the window, watching the snow dance in the sky above New York City.
“I feel like we’re in a snow globe.” Kris is nestled back against Adam’s chest, broad and warm and there for the first time in months. Adam’s arms are snug around him, pinning his arms against his body in the best way. “In a little house inside a snow globe. And somebody shook it to see the snow. But they don’t even know we’re in here too.”
“Mmm. Gotta stay inside. Snow globe snow’s a bitch to get off leather.”
“Yeah.” They watch the snow, snow, snow.
“Where would we go? If we could go outside.”
“Wo Hop,” Adam answers promptly. “Chinese place. Not a single person would recognize either one of us. We could stay as long as we wanted. They have these little dumplings.” They contemplate the dumplings.
“Then we could just walk around the city for a while.”
“You’d better wear a big scarf and fluffy mittens.” Adam buries his nose in Kris’s hair. It smells like woodsmoke and apples.
“Don’t laugh. I want to go to Rockefeller Center and see the ice skaters.”
“I’m not laughing.” He’s not.
“Then I want to take you shopping. I don’t know where would be a good place to shop. You’d have to help me out with that. I want to buy you something crazy. Something you always wanted and never thought you’d have.”
Adam traces the shell of Kris’s ear with his lips. “We can slip hundred dollar bills to the buskers playing guitar at Grand Central.”
“I’d never let go of your hand all night.”
“Well, for the hot chocolate.”
“For the hot chocolate. OK, this is getting sappy. We’re not riding one of those horse and buggy things through the Park.”
“Certainly not.”
Snow, snow, snow.
“Well, if you’re tired of walking, we can. I told you not to wear those boots.”
Adam smiles against Kris’s cinnamon shoulder. “I’ll listen next time,” he says softly.
***
Adam discovers the clocks when he is looking for matches to light the candles. They’re hidden in a kitchen drawer, underneath some scorched potholders: three wall clocks, a bedside alarm, a kitchen timer. Adam is overcome by the love he feels for his brother. Every childhood wrong, every teenage slight, trumped.
***
It turns out Wo Hop delivers. Kris answers the door, cap pulled low, and pays cash. Adam feeds him the soft, steamy dumplings with his fingers, concentrating hard on Kris’s lips.
“You’re making me self-conscious here,” Kris says, but he’s putting on a show, lips dragging over Adam’s fingers, teeth scraping just so. Adam catches the drop on the corner of Kris’s mouth with his tongue.
Adam makes eating noodles a carnal affair.
The plastic around the fortune cookie crinkles in Kris’s hand. Adam takes the cookie, tosses it back in the bag. “We’ll make our own damn fortune.”
As he pulls Adam down, “I already checked my Magic 8 Ball. We’re good to go.”
***
Adam planned to forgo sleep. He wanted to collect every minute for his memories. But Kris said, “I want to remember waking up together and finding you really here.” A stray eyelash on his cheek. The pull of barely sticky skin. An extra blanket tucked around him in the night. Put that one in a crystal box.
***
“Your dog has eyeliner.”
“Our dog has eyeliner.”
“...our dog?”
Shrug. “You’re allergic to cats.”
***
There is a moment when Kris is about to say he’s sorry. Adam slows the words with a gentle hand on his throat, coaxes them loose with his lips, swallows them down whole and unspoken.
***
“It says leave it in for five minutes. How will we know it’s five minutes?” Kris is behind Adam in the bathtub, massaging rosemary and peppermint deep conditioner into Adam’s hair.
“It doesn’t have to be exact. Just keep doing that for a long, long time.”
“I know what, sing ‘Broken Open,’ that’s five minutes. No wait, it’s been a minute already, sing ‘Pick U Up,’ that’s like four.”
“So is ‘A Loaded Smile.’”
“That’s depressing. Come on, just...OK, ‘Music Again.’ Start now or you’ll be overconditioned.”
“I’m pretty sure nothing’s going to be limp when we get out of this bathtub.”
***
“You’re crabby in the mornings.” Kris’s words are belied by his besotted tone of voice.
“I am most definitely not crabby today.” Adam reaches for the coffee Kris has brought to bed.
“You’re making a real effort. That’s awesome.” Kris grins. “Angel crab.”
***
Sometimes Kris sleepwalks. Sometimes he has nightmares. At night, he is a restless creature. On this night, he wakes in a panic to find Adam there, and rather than being enough it makes him ache for more, and more, and more. He reaches for Adam, pulls him from sleep with a thick, coarse rope. He tries to climb inside Adam, biting his shoulders, raking his back. Surely there is a way, some stone he can twist, some Open Sesame that will get him where he needs to be. And then at last Adam is all around him and inside him, relentless as the sea, bringing him home.
***
“The snow stopped.” Kris has journeyed to the bathroom and back to bed; he has news of the outside world. “Sun's up.”
Which means back to wearing clothes. Back to decisions and press. Back to sleeping with a phone on the pillow.
“We should buy Neil a fruit basket, or a car, or something.”
“Mmm. I’ve got a cleaning service coming. And I’m gonna introduce him to Taylor Swift.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Nope. Can’t tease him about it, either.”
“Fair enough.”
They lie face to face. Adam touches his tongue to the tip of Kris’s nose. Kris solemnly returns the favor.
Words are useless. Tears are useless. Everything there is, they know it in their bones.