[Fic] Hot Pockets -- What Matters Most, PG-13, Flash Fic
Title: What Matters Most
Fandom: American Idol
Pairing: Kris/Katy Allen
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 890
Summary: Kris has to work on his first wedding anniversary, but still has a surprise for Katy.
Warnings: None
Notes: Wrote this on the train on Saturday.
What Matters Most
To look at Katy, you wouldn’t know that it is her wedding anniversary - let alone her first anniversary. She is “bumming it” around the L.A. apartment where she and Kris have recently moved. She’s wearing a pink tank-top and faded pair cotton shorts with “CHEER” emblazoned across the back. Her honey blond hair is pulled into a loose side ponytail. Her socked feet are propped on the glass coffee in front of the corduroy couch where she sits. A laptop is perched on her skinny thighs and is getting warmer by the minute. Her brow frets as she reads over a list of casting calls, looking for anything requiring a young, petite blond.
Kris is nowhere to be seen. He’s off working - writing with someone in West Hollywood. It doesn’t faze Katy. They’ve been preparing for times like this for over a year. They both want to celebrate their anniversary, of course, but it doesn’t have to be on the actual date. Neither of them is especially attached to it. In fact, they both tend to have trouble remembering that their anniversary falls on the twenty-sixth of September. It’s normal for them. They share a mutual spotty memory.
A jolt rocks through Katy when Adam’s voice explodes into the chorus of “Cryin’” from across the room. She sings along, off-key, as she closes the laptop, stands to stretch, and takes three bouncing steps over to snatch up her cell phone. “Hey, rock star,” she chirps with a wry grin.
“Hey, babe,” Kris drawls. “How goes the job hunt?”
“Spectacular.”
“That…wasn’t very convincing.”
“Shush.” Katy drops back onto the couch with a huff. “What’s up?”
“Um,” Kris murmurs. “Clouds.”
Katy’s hazel eyes roll upward.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me.”
She giggles. “You’re such a dork, Kristopher.”
“Hey, you’re the one who married me.”
“Do you need something?,” she asks with a sigh. “Or are you just going to torture me with mumbling?” Kris utters a hesitant noise that makes her knowingly laugh. “Oh gosh, Kris, what did you get yourself into, now?”
“I was just wondering…”
“Hmm?”
“What’s our address, again?”
Katy tips over and collapses to the couch cushions with laughter. Only Kris would make such a silly phone call on their anniversary. “Flowers?”
“Not exactly.”
Flowers and chocolate, then. He’s so predictable.
After repeating their apartment address for him three times, Katy coos her terms of endearment before hanging up. Thirty minutes pass before Adam’s wailing at her, again. It’s Kris.
“Did you forget already?,” Katy asks in amusement.
Kris sputters in offense. “No.”
“Liar.”
“Whatever. Go downstairs.”
“Why?”
“Something’s waiting for you.”
“That was quick.”
“I know, right? Apparently, if you’re the American Idol, delivery dudes move faster.”
What could he have possibly ordered that could be delivered in a half-hour?
“Kristopher, if you got me a pizza for our anniversary, you are so banished to the couch.”
“What about Thai?”
“Mmm, now we’re talkin’.” Katy sighs. “Well, it’s going to have to wait,” she facetiously mutters. ‘I have to put on pants.”
“Oh,” Kris coos with a soft moan. “Tell me more about not wearing pants.”
“It’s liberating.”
“Hot.”
“And drafty.”
“You should just go downstairs like that.”
Her eyes narrow. “I don’t think so.”
“You’re right. I don’t want to kill the guy.”
“Gosh, you’re so romantic.”
“Food’s getting cold.”
“Okay, okay.’
Suspicious thoughts cross Katy’s mind as she hunts down a pair of shoes. She’s going to kill him if this is all just a stunt and he has her prancing down the hall in dorm-wear to be ambushed with something ridiculously romantic. She’s not dressed for such things.
The lobby is empty when Katy reaches it. She halts momentarily before laughing at herself. She forgot to buzz-in the delivery guy. And she has no money for a tip. Awesome. This guy is going to love her.
Katy stops short, again, when she pushes through the glass doors and sees the “delivery dude.”
“I knew it!” She shakes her head as Kris approaches her with an impish grin on his face. “You suck at being sneaky.”
“Hey, it got you down here.”
Katy pouts. “I don’t see any Thai food, Kristopher. Unacceptable.”
“I beat him here.”
Kris drags her into an embrace, but she refuses to be wooed. Katy pokes the chest of his t-shirt. “Hold on a second, mister American Idol. Your wife is not so easily charmed.”
“I know.”
“Oh, really?” Katy tilts her head. “So, you do have a point? You better make it before I have the locks changed.”
Kris pushes out his bottom lip. “You’re mean.”
Damn him. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she deadpans before draping her arms around his strong neck. Sighing, Katy pushes up on her toes and finds his forehead with hers. Kris’s throat bobs as he swallows. His eyelids slide to half-mast as he rubs a hand against the curve of her hip. “You said you have a point,” Katy says quietly.
A lopsided smirk twitches on Kris’s face. “Well…” Katy bites down gently on her lip. She knows something sweet is coming. Kris has a way of being so ridiculously romantic with simple gestures that make her stupid for him. Her chest aches with want when he whispers, “I never got to carry my wife over the threshold of our new home.”
Fandom: American Idol
Pairing: Kris/Katy Allen
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 890
Summary: Kris has to work on his first wedding anniversary, but still has a surprise for Katy.
Warnings: None
Notes: Wrote this on the train on Saturday.
What Matters Most
To look at Katy, you wouldn’t know that it is her wedding anniversary - let alone her first anniversary. She is “bumming it” around the L.A. apartment where she and Kris have recently moved. She’s wearing a pink tank-top and faded pair cotton shorts with “CHEER” emblazoned across the back. Her honey blond hair is pulled into a loose side ponytail. Her socked feet are propped on the glass coffee in front of the corduroy couch where she sits. A laptop is perched on her skinny thighs and is getting warmer by the minute. Her brow frets as she reads over a list of casting calls, looking for anything requiring a young, petite blond.
Kris is nowhere to be seen. He’s off working - writing with someone in West Hollywood. It doesn’t faze Katy. They’ve been preparing for times like this for over a year. They both want to celebrate their anniversary, of course, but it doesn’t have to be on the actual date. Neither of them is especially attached to it. In fact, they both tend to have trouble remembering that their anniversary falls on the twenty-sixth of September. It’s normal for them. They share a mutual spotty memory.
A jolt rocks through Katy when Adam’s voice explodes into the chorus of “Cryin’” from across the room. She sings along, off-key, as she closes the laptop, stands to stretch, and takes three bouncing steps over to snatch up her cell phone. “Hey, rock star,” she chirps with a wry grin.
“Hey, babe,” Kris drawls. “How goes the job hunt?”
“Spectacular.”
“That…wasn’t very convincing.”
“Shush.” Katy drops back onto the couch with a huff. “What’s up?”
“Um,” Kris murmurs. “Clouds.”
Katy’s hazel eyes roll upward.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me.”
She giggles. “You’re such a dork, Kristopher.”
“Hey, you’re the one who married me.”
“Do you need something?,” she asks with a sigh. “Or are you just going to torture me with mumbling?” Kris utters a hesitant noise that makes her knowingly laugh. “Oh gosh, Kris, what did you get yourself into, now?”
“I was just wondering…”
“Hmm?”
“What’s our address, again?”
Katy tips over and collapses to the couch cushions with laughter. Only Kris would make such a silly phone call on their anniversary. “Flowers?”
“Not exactly.”
Flowers and chocolate, then. He’s so predictable.
After repeating their apartment address for him three times, Katy coos her terms of endearment before hanging up. Thirty minutes pass before Adam’s wailing at her, again. It’s Kris.
“Did you forget already?,” Katy asks in amusement.
Kris sputters in offense. “No.”
“Liar.”
“Whatever. Go downstairs.”
“Why?”
“Something’s waiting for you.”
“That was quick.”
“I know, right? Apparently, if you’re the American Idol, delivery dudes move faster.”
What could he have possibly ordered that could be delivered in a half-hour?
“Kristopher, if you got me a pizza for our anniversary, you are so banished to the couch.”
“What about Thai?”
“Mmm, now we’re talkin’.” Katy sighs. “Well, it’s going to have to wait,” she facetiously mutters. ‘I have to put on pants.”
“Oh,” Kris coos with a soft moan. “Tell me more about not wearing pants.”
“It’s liberating.”
“Hot.”
“And drafty.”
“You should just go downstairs like that.”
Her eyes narrow. “I don’t think so.”
“You’re right. I don’t want to kill the guy.”
“Gosh, you’re so romantic.”
“Food’s getting cold.”
“Okay, okay.’
Suspicious thoughts cross Katy’s mind as she hunts down a pair of shoes. She’s going to kill him if this is all just a stunt and he has her prancing down the hall in dorm-wear to be ambushed with something ridiculously romantic. She’s not dressed for such things.
The lobby is empty when Katy reaches it. She halts momentarily before laughing at herself. She forgot to buzz-in the delivery guy. And she has no money for a tip. Awesome. This guy is going to love her.
Katy stops short, again, when she pushes through the glass doors and sees the “delivery dude.”
“I knew it!” She shakes her head as Kris approaches her with an impish grin on his face. “You suck at being sneaky.”
“Hey, it got you down here.”
Katy pouts. “I don’t see any Thai food, Kristopher. Unacceptable.”
“I beat him here.”
Kris drags her into an embrace, but she refuses to be wooed. Katy pokes the chest of his t-shirt. “Hold on a second, mister American Idol. Your wife is not so easily charmed.”
“I know.”
“Oh, really?” Katy tilts her head. “So, you do have a point? You better make it before I have the locks changed.”
Kris pushes out his bottom lip. “You’re mean.”
Damn him. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she deadpans before draping her arms around his strong neck. Sighing, Katy pushes up on her toes and finds his forehead with hers. Kris’s throat bobs as he swallows. His eyelids slide to half-mast as he rubs a hand against the curve of her hip. “You said you have a point,” Katy says quietly.
A lopsided smirk twitches on Kris’s face. “Well…” Katy bites down gently on her lip. She knows something sweet is coming. Kris has a way of being so ridiculously romantic with simple gestures that make her stupid for him. Her chest aches with want when he whispers, “I never got to carry my wife over the threshold of our new home.”