[Fic] Kradam -- Werewolves of Southland: Part 1 (R)

[vanya_elda]

Title: Werewolves of Southland: Part 1
Author: vanya_elda
Pairing: Kris Allen/Adam Lambert
Rating: R
Word Count: 10,757
Warnings: blood, werewolves
Prompt: Adam became a werewolf when a crazy fan bit him after a concert...
Summary: Kris is penniless and Adam is a rock star, who also happens to be a werewolf. Adam's management kidnaps Kris so that wolf!Adam can have a "chew toy." Wolf!Adam turns out to be a lover not a killer, but still a biter. Kris has to cope with being a werewolf. It doesn't go so well.
Beta: lilacsinrain - Who I am forever indebted to for being such a big help.
Notes: For kradamadness Round 4 - "Toys." I took some liberties with the busking in Hollywood, which I know is policed heavily (yay research!), but I wanted Kris to be at least a part-time busker, so it happened. Also, this is just Part 1 of the story, which is going to be a series of fics not chaptered. So, consider this a complete thought with some definite leeway for a sequel. I don't know how many parts there will be or when there will be updates because of a new, ongoing family emergency. However, all pre-beta updates will be posted in the thread at kradamadness. Finally, if someone wants to make art or a mix or something for this story that would be #alrightwithme. My current divider art comes from a Google image search.



Werewolves of Southland: Part 1

Busking on the streets of West Hollywood has its good days and its bad days. This is definitely the latter.

Kris knows that he should have known better than to accept an invite from a stranger. Isn’t that what all parents told their kids - don’t trust strangers? Still, he was desperate. The rent is overdue and he doesn’t know how much longer his roommates are going to hold out before he gets the boot, so he accepts the dinner invitation from Lane, a snappy dressed blonde in a posh car. She praises his looks and musical ability, equating him to be a contemporary blues traveler.

Kris bites into it hook, line, and sinker.

As soon as they pull into the Malibu estate and the gates close behind them, Kris knows something is up. There are security personnel watching their every move and they have guns. These are weird looking guns, but still guns. Kris didn’t bargain for guns. Actually, he didn’t bargain for anything but a non-ramen meal. All of this is supposed to be gravy, but it’s so not.

A security guard approaches the car as they roll to a stop. His hand is near his gun and he looks stern as he opens Kris’ car door.

"What’s going on?" Kris asks.

Lane pats his hand. "It’s just precaution, Kris."

"Step out of the car," the man says gruffly before tacking on a, "please."

Kris looks between the guy and Lane, trying to stay calm. "I think I should just go, actually."

"You can’t do that, Kris," Lane says with a sigh as the security guard raises his gun.

Kris tenses in his seat and instinctively raises his hands. Lane hits the button on his seatbelt and Kris swallows roughly. He shifts out of the seatbelt as his hands begin to shake from the fear coursing through him.

"I-I really don’t need dinner," Kris stammers.

The only sound Kris makes is a yelp as the guard fires squarely at his chest. He looks down to see a dart piercing through his shirt. "What-?" is all he manages to say before he droops in his seat.

His last moments of consciousness are spent watching Lane berate the security guard. What the heck did he get himself into?



When Kris wakes up, he’s lying on a fancy couch of some sort. His eyelids feel heavy and he can feel his heart beating behind his ears. He puts his hand to chest and finds that the dart is gone. He tries to sit up, but immediately falls back. His head feels like it weighs a ton and glancing around, he finds his vision to be bleary at best. Great.

It’s then that he realizes he’s not alone in the room.

Standing near a bookcase on the opposite side of the room is a man - a really tall, really naked man.

"Holy crap," Kris says groggily when he recognizes the guy’s face. "You’re-you’re-" The name is on the tip of his tongue, but it’s not coming out.

"Adam," the man supplies and Kris nods.

"Yeah. Adam Lambert." Kris slowly sits up and drops his feet to the floor. He groans as he drops his aching head into his hands. "What’s going on?" he pleads.

"I can’t tell you."

"Why?"

"I don’t want you to be afraid."

Kris looks up, eyes a little wild. "Well, now that you say that-" he begins but is cut off when Adam shushes him. "Why are you naked?"

Adam laughs quietly, sounding pained. "You can’t just shut up and take it, can you, Kris?"

Kris stiffens. Take it? "What do you mean by ‘take it?’"

"You’ll see. It’s almost time."

"No offense," Kris begins with a frown, "but your hospitality sucks. I’d like to run away, now."

"Shhhh," Adam repeats his shushing and crosses the room. Kris backs himself as far as he can into the tiny couch.

"I can feel him," Adam says, eyes a little wild. "The wolf is coming. I’m sorry, baby, but you’re fucked."

Kris’ hands instinctively rise, again. What is going on? ‘The wolf is coming?’ What the heck? Tonight was supposed to be cool. He was supposed to be having dinner. Now, he just wants to be home, in his cardboard box of an apartment with his three roommates. They probably won’t even notice that he’s gone. They never notice when he’s there either.

"What the heck is going on?!" Kris demands, staggering to his feet and giving Adam frickin’ Lambert a shove. "What are you going to do to me?"

The next several seconds are straight out of nightmares. Adam arches his back and lets out an inhuman moan. Kris stumbles away and finds the nearest wall to sink against as he watches in horror. Adam drops on all fours and huffs. His body begins to contort and soon there is reddish-blond hair popping out across his body until he’s completely covered. Out of his face a wolfish snout protrudes, followed by large claws on his hands and feet. Kris wills himself to wake up, but it doesn’t happen. Adam is turning into a beast and Kris can’t get his legs to move.

Finally, as Adam whines and a tail pushes out of his backside, Kris finds the instinct to run.

In a mad dash, Kris is bolting past the couch and through the door, out into a hallway that looks like something out of an art magazine with its vaulted ceilings, moody lighting, abstract paintings, and the royal blue runner striping the marble floor. He realizes he must be in the mansion that they pulled up to earlier. How much earlier, he doesn’t know. Running down the hall, he frantically tries every door handle, but they’re all locked. Glancing around for stairs, he looks back toward the room where the scary wolf-man is shifting. Kris knows he only has seconds before that thing is coming out to pounce and do only Lord knows what to him.

Kris freezes up when a freakishly loud howl resonates through the hallway. He knows he’s dead.

Running flat out is the only option that Kris has left and he makes a break for the end of the hall and hopefully, stairs up head. He hears a low growl and glances over his shoulder to see the reddish-blond wolf bounding toward him. Kris prays for help, an escape, anything to get him out of this nightmare before he’s hit from behind.

Kris smacks forward into the floor, a face-plant with momentum. He skids a little ways and feels his skin being burned as the blue runner ruches up beneath him. He lifts his dizzy head and hysterically prays for his death to be quick. He’s shaking and sucking in whimpering breaths when strong hands with claws grip him and turn him over. Kris shields his face, terrified of what he’ll see.

The heavy breathing above him suddenly recedes and he’s released. Shocked, Kris lowers his arms and stares into a face that is not quite a wolf’s, but close enough. The only human elements are the creature’s eyes - a bright shade of blue, just like Adam’s. The enormous wolf-man is sitting before him on its knees, looking expectant. Kris tries to scramble away, but finds himself getting yanked back by the leg and then held down by a grizzly looking hand on his chest.

Expecting the killing blow to come, Kris turns his face and flinches. He’s startled when the wolf-man whines. He opens his eyes to see flattened ears and a head ducked in what looks like shame, which is bizarre behavior coming from what Kris assumes is a feral beast.

In the next second, Kris is being lifted to his feet. He struggles against the hold, but the wolf-man keeps him held tightly at arm’s length. Kris gasps when he’s quickly hauled forward and pressed up against the hair of the creature’s chest. The wolf-man is embracing him like a friend.

Kris is bewildered and blinks several times before wrenching his head back to look up.

"Aren’t you going to kill me?" he asks, still breathing heavy as his pulse races. He gets a blank stare for a reply. He can’t believe he actually expected the thing to understand him. It’s a wolf.

Tentatively, Kris wraps his arms around the furry monstrosity before him. In return, he gets a face nuzzle against the top of his head and a wet nose huffing in his hair.

This would be kind of nice if it wasn’t so frickin’ weird and scary and a million other things that are not nice.

Kris takes in a sharp breath as the beast effortlessly hoists him and carries him back to the room with the weird couch and bookcase. When he’s set back down, Kris notices a few more things in the room. His guitar case is tucked away to the side of the bookcase, clothes are folded in a neat pile on a table in one corner of the room, there are drop cloths on the floor, and a sheet covers the couch.

Had he been expected to die in here? Well, that was a comforting thought.

The wolf-man walks away from Kris, toward the bookcase. Kris gets halfway through a turn to dart out of the door before he’s whipped back around by a feral growl. "Okay," he says as he slowly raises his hands and goes to the couch. The creature’s eyes follow him the entire time. Kris takes a seat. He really doesn’t want to be mauled.

Kris finds himself being presented with his guitar case, which the wolf-man seems to be holding as gently as possible - still leaving a couple scratches marks on the leather. Kris wonders what his back must look like, right now. Taking the guitar, Kris looks at the wolf-man dubiously.

"You want me to play?" he asks, which is stupid because he knows he’s not going to get an answer.

Slowly, Kris removes the guitar from the case. He swallows roughly as he looks warily over to the wolf-man, which is taking a seat on the opposite side of the tiny couch. Kris can feel his seat shift with the new, huge weight. He thinks it would be comical to see the two of them sitting there, like they’re about to have frickin’ tea or something, if the wolf-man didn’t have teeth scarier than Jack Nicholson’s in that one movie that terrified Kris when he was younger.

His hands are shaky when he goes for a pick and after dropping it three times, he decides to forego the pick altogether. As he sets the instrument on his knee, he wonders what on earth he should play. Nothing comes to him right away and he bites his lip nervously.

Kris ducks his head to look at the guitar and to command his hands to stop shaking. It sort of works. He plucks out a few chords. The wolf-man huffs a sigh and Kris plucks out a few more chords. Several minutes and a few songs pass before the creature moves to the floor at Kris’ feet, tail wagging. It then dawns on Kris that the wolf-man is looking for companionship, not a chew-toy.

Well, he could have just said that. Sheesh.

Though, that doesn’t explain all of the drop cloths and preventative measures, nor the "sorry, baby, you’re fucked." Kris figures that Adam’s wolf side had been violent in the past and in hopes of giving the wolf an outlet for the aggression and blood lust, he was picked up off the streets and locked in here. It’s a spooky reflection on his part. And who knew that werewolves actually existed? He certainly didn’t.

Kris gets a sudden chill from his thoughts and stops playing as he shivers. He’d really like to wake up, now, if possible.

In the quiet of the room, Kris realizes that beast is heavily snoring. Kris has put it to sleep with the music. Carefully, Kris sets the guitar down on the couch and soundlessly stands up to creep his way out of the room. He speeds up the further he gets from the room, and by the time he reaches finds a staircase, he’s running. His heart pounds as he barrels down the staircase, taking the stairs two at a time. He races to large front door and gives its handle a shake. He’s distraught when it’s not unlocked.

Kris looks back over his shoulder and sees no sign of the wolf-man. At first, he beats on the door with fists and his feet, but it’s too thick to budge and if there’s someone out there in the night, they’re not listening. His next attempt to get out is to take a chair to a nearby window. He stumbles back, away from the shattered glass before approaching, again. He’s stopped by the ornate bars that are barely close enough together to prevent his escape. Kris lets out a yell through the bars.

"Help me!" he cries out at a volume that’s sure to leave him hoarse.

He decides to smash the opposite window for good measure and lets out another yell, ready to make as much noise as possible in hopes that someone will hear. He grips at the bars and gives them an angry shake. When he hears the woofing noise echoing from upstairs he sinks down to his knees. He’s doomed.

The wolf-man looks annoyed when he approaches standing tall on two legs. The human features of his face are showing through as his large eyebrows are bent into a V-shape. Kris cowers away. He has a sudden intake of breath when the wolf-man grabs the front of his shirt and lifts him off of the floor. Kris instinctively grips the creature’s furry wrists for support as his feet dangle in the air. The wolf-man’s eyes study him, looking hurt.

"I-I’m sorry," Kris says, voice shaky. He lifts a hand and tentatively pets the wolf-man’s muzzle. He cringes when the beast ducks to lick his face, breath hot and heavy and tongue wet. He doesn’t squirm when the wolf-man easily slings him over a shoulder and heads back upstairs, nails clicking on the marble floor.

The wolf-man makes a different turn down the hall when they reach the second floor. They come to a stop at what Kris assumes is a doorway, which he confirms when the creature sets him down. Dizzy, Kris holds onto the wall as he watches the creature break into the room with one rough push that shatters the wood around the lock.

It’s a guest bedroom. Kris’ eyes go fearfully wide as the wolf-man attempts to pull him into the room. Kris fights it with all of his might, kicking at the creature and beating a fist against the gnarly looking hand that’s holding his arm. He has an epiphany and kicks the beast in the groin, hard. With a whimpering yelp, the wolf-man lets go and Kris stumbles into a run. He doesn’t know where he’s going. He just knows that nothing good can come of going into a bedroom with that thing.

Kris cries out in pain as he’s brought down by claws in his back. He finds himself smacked against the floor for the second time that night, but this time he struggles to get free. His yell is tortured as teeth latch onto his shoulder and pierce the skin. He figures that the creature could do much worse damage than a simple bite and stops squirming. He lays there, chest pressed against the floor and breathing shallow, for several seconds as the wolf-man holds him down. Eventually, Kris goes limp. He’s exhausted and there’s no way he can stop whatever is going to happen.

The creature relents on his hold on Kris. The next thing Kris knows, he’s being scooped up into strong, furry arms. The pain of the wolf bite makes Kris so dizzy that he begins to slip in and out of consciousness. He catches sight of the blood on his shirt and shudders from the sheer agony of the wound.

Kris finds himself being taken into the dreaded bedroom and placed on the bed, which he desperately tries to sink into to hide. The bed shifts as the wolf-man climbs into it with him. Kris’ breath catches and holds in terror, but he doesn’t dare move, fearing what the creature will do to him next.

As careful as a giant beast can move, the wolf-man curls himself around Kris. It licks the wound on Kris’ shoulder and Kris’ breath comes out in a whoosh with an accompanying strangled cry. The beast’s soft, bushy tail flicks up and down Kris’ torso until it settles on his abdomen. Kris pets the tail slowly with shaky hands and swallows gulps of air, trying to remain conscious. The wolf-man continues to lick his wound until Kris actually gets the gall to nudge the creature away. The wolf-man quickly laps at his face, which makes Kris laugh nervously, and it lays his head on Kris’ chest. Several minutes pass before Kris hears and feels the solid breathing of sleep from the beast.

Inevitably, Kris passes out from pain.



Kris’ shoulder aching to a point that startles him from sleep, he looks down to see a vaguely familiar head of black hair and a freckled arm draped across him. It’s morning. Adam must have shifted back while he was out cold. Quickly, Kris rolls out from underneath Adam and hits the floor on all fours. He sees stars from the pain of the landing.

Delirious, he hoarsely shouts, "Help me!" to no one before collapsing and holding his shoulder.

Kris shudders as he hears Adam rousing, who breathes out a shocked "You’re alive!"

Kris curls into the fetal position as Adam moves to the floor next to him. "Oh babe," Adam laments, "you need a doctor." Adam puts the back of a hand to his cheek and Kris scowls, pulling away from Adam.

"Don’t touch me," Kris spits out.

Adam looks taken aback. He goes to his knees and puts a gentle hand on Kris’ arm. "Move back to the bed. They’ll be coming soon."

"Who’s coming?" Kris asks with a stern brow.

Adam pauses before ducking his eyes. "The cleaners."

Kris is furious when he takes a shaky breath. "To remove my body, right?" he snaps. "Isn’t that the whole point to this?"

Adam is chewing his lip when he meets Kris’ eyes. "Yes," he sadly admits. "We all thought that he - I needed ‘someone to play with.’" Adam emphasizes with air quotes.

The genuine remorse is lost on Kris, who is still having trouble seeing through the pain. It enrages him to think that they were treating him like some toy for Adam, that they were so brazen about taking a human life. Celebrities could get away with anything, he supposed. Well, Adam frickin’ Lambert wasn’t getting away with this. No sir.

"So, what now?" Kris demands. "Are you going to kill me? Hide the evidence?"

Adam, who was already looking a stunning sallow shade, pales even further. "No. I’d never - I’d never let them do that!" he stammers.

It isn’t exactly a ringing vote of confidence. Kris doesn’t trust Adam. "I don’t believe you," he replies lowly before shivering. His shoulder and head both are aching.

Adam gasps softly. "Please, Kris, you’re feverish," he pleads. "Get back into bed. I’d never let anyone hurt you. Not now. Not when you’re…" he trails off before finishing, "marked."

Kris eyes Adam suspiciously. He doesn’t like that word "marked" and the way Adam says it, like he’s scared of it, doesn’t help. "What are you talking about?"

Chewing his bottom lip, Adam leans over Kris once more to delicately place his hand against Kris’ forehead and then down his cheek. "You’ll have an infection," he says quietly. "I had one, too. It lasted for days. The meds did nothing."

"Adam," Kris says evenly, "what do you mean I’m ‘marked?’"

Adam swallows thickly. His expression is filled with compassion. Kris doesn’t like where this is headed. Adam leans down and kisses the bicep of Kris’ injured arm. He then runs the soft pad of his thumb over the spot. Kris wants to deck him, now that Adam is close enough, but can’t bring himself to mar Adam’s face. Kris sighs. He’s such a pacifist.

"You’re like me," Adam finally answers. "Every full moon, you’re going to become the wolf."

Kris opens his angry mouth to ask why this is happening, but Adam shushes him.

"He - I bit you. I bit you while I was the wolf. That’s how it gets passed along."

"I - I don’t believe you!" Kris growls and yanks his arm away. He yelps at the pain it causes in his shoulder.

Adam tilts his head. "It doesn’t matter, baby," he says in a gentle tone. "It’s going to happen."

Cautiously, Adam drags his fingers through Kris’ mussed hair. Again, part of Kris wants to punch him, to take out his anger, but he can’t do it. He can’t do it because he’s on the verge of crying. His eyes shine before he squeezes them shut and mutters to himself. He can’t handle this. How can anyone handle this? He’s going to be a frickin’ werewolf? That doesn’t even sound sane.

"So, what now?" Kris demands through a clenched jaw. "What happens to me?"

Adam stops his petting to cup Kris’ face and turn it toward him. "I want you to stay here. Please, stay here, Kris."

"No. Heck no!" Kris spits out and jerks away. "I’m getting out of here as soon as those cleaners get here."

Shaking his head, Adam reaches out and traces his fingers along Kris’ jaw. "If that’s what you want."

"Yes!"

"I don’t want you to go. It’s going to be dangerous out there for you."

Kris’ eyes narrow. "I don’t care what you…" He trails off as the sound of men’s voices carry up the stairs. "Finally," Kris says in exasperation. He’s then struggling to sit up. Adam tries to help, but Kris shrugs him off. "Help!" Kris shouts. "Help me, please!"

Adam backs off, looking ashamed, as feet pound on the staircase. Kris glowers at him before a man in overhauls appears in the smashed doorway.

"Ah, shit," the tall, burly man says, "he’s alive."



Kris refuses to see Adam’s doctor. He refuses to do anything that Adam asks him to do by repeatedly saying that he wants to be as far away as possible. It hurts Adam’s feelings, but Kris honestly doesn’t give a crap. He also refuses to do anything that the cleanup crew and security guards tell him to do, which is how he ends up getting dumped outside of the emergency room. He considers kissing the ground, but he’s being pulled inside before he has the chance.

That’s where things get complicated.

Kris doesn’t have health insurance, which is a big frickin’ problem as far as the hospital is concerned. The trauma doctor doesn’t spend much time with him, but it’s long enough for Kris to find out that he has a nasty infection in his shoulder. He can’t afford the surgery that would clean all of it up quickly, so instead, they stick an IV in him and pump him full of antibiotics.

The fact that there’s a bite and scrapes from something animal doesn’t even faze the doctor. Kris can tell that they want him out of the E.R. as soon as possible. When his infection exacerbates no matter which combination of antibiotics they give him, it just makes matters worse. That’s when questions start getting asked, and when Kris says he was attacked by a wolf, no one believes him. Since when are there wolves in the urban jungle of Los Angeles? Maybe he’s a junkie looking for a fix?

Now, he not only feels like he’s dying, but he’s being accused of being a lying user. Fantastic.

As Kris is discharged, he’s armed with wound dressing materials and three pill bottles, two antibiotics and a painkiller, with the doctor sternly reminding him that only he can take the pills. The hospital staff gives him a scrub shirt to wear, his torn and bloody t-shirt having been discarded. Though he feels like death, Kris still thanks everyone who helped him and leaves with his battered guitar case in-hand.

The walk home takes Kris more than three hours. More than once he has to shrug off a free ride from a thick-necked guy that he’s certain is one of Adam’s goons. Eventually, he takes a shortcut through a friend’s greasy-spoon diner and loses what he’s convinced is a tail thanks to a network of alleys. At that moment, he feels like he’s in an action movie or something, but the humor is quickly forgotten because his shoulder really frickin’ hurts. He collapses on his bed as soon as he gets home.

He doesn’t get up for three days.

The infection is horrible and Adam was right, the medication does nothing to help it. He lies listlessly in bed, doing nothing but occasionally moaning as the pain spikes. He’s surprised when one of his roommates actually takes the time to check on him when he doesn’t move for over twenty hours. His fever runs high, to a point that his roommate considers taking him back to the emergency room, but Kris refuses. His bill is going to be high enough already. Instead, he prays for the strength to live through it.

On the fifth day, the fever and the worst of the pain finally break. Kris manages to eat something other than ramen and hobbles his way into a shower. He’s a wreck, but he figures his already hit rock bottom, and that’s when he starts to hear the rumors from his roommates. Someone has been looking for him. They’ve been waving around a recent picture of him from a security feed and asking questions. People who’re like Kris don’t like questions. They don’t want to be involved. Kris is grateful to live amongst a community of small-time people like himself; he doesn’t want to be found.

Regardless of what Kris wants, they find him anyway.

Kris ends up on the streets after his infection passes. There’s only so much his roommates are willing to put up with - not paying his share of the rent is not one of them. Busking and playing in bars are out of the question. He can barely lift the guitar. He peddles what he can, hoping to come up with enough to afford a meal, let alone rent. That’s when she shows up. Again. Lane tries to get him to come with her, to live with Adam, but all Kris does is snap at her and threaten to go to the police. They both know the police won’t believe him, but at least it makes her back off. Still, he knows he’s being watched when he spots the same dark green car on the street wherever he goes.

After a week of being followed, Kris is fed up and does go to the police. The officer he speaks to dutifully takes down his statement and accusation of being stalked. The only evidence Kris has is a license plate number and Lane’s repeated approaches. He considers bringing up the kidnapping and making due on his promise to himself that he won’t let Adam get away with everything, but he has nothing to show them except a healing wolf bite on his shoulder and that’s not very convincing. So, he leaves the kidnapping out.

Kris assumes that the police checked up with Lane because she doesn’t bother him after he makes the report.

Adam’s influence doesn’t stop there, though. Kris’ hospital bills miraculously disappear thanks to a "donation" from a generous "model citizen" as he’s told when he inquires about the zero balance on his account. His rent gets paid, too, which Kris only tolerates because he’s unable to work for the money and he needs a place to stay.

When the next month rolls around, Kris is well enough to resume playing for tips on the streets and in local bars. Everything seems fine and dandy until someone in a hooded sweatshirt shows up to toss a couple hundred dollars into his guitar case. Kris stares in shock up into the eyes of the kind patron. Kris immediately stops playing to lean down and pick up the money. He crinkles it in his palm before shouting after the familiar face.

"I don’t want your charity, Adam!"

Adam doesn’t turn around. Kris pockets the cash, intending to donate it to a shelter, later. It’s not like Adam needs the money and Kris refuses to spend it. He doesn’t need Adam’s help to live.

Another week passes and Kris grows restless. He doesn’t know why he’s become so snippy. He thinks it could be consequence of losing sleep when he wakes up each night in a cold sweat after dreaming about being chased through a mansion by a wolf-man, but whatever it is, his poor attitude gets old really fast. It’s not like him to be so sour and aggressive. He’s supposed to be the kind, humble Southern boy not an irritable prima donna.

So, he calls his mom, hoping that she’ll have something to say that will soothe his inner-demons. He tells her very little about the past month of his life. There’s a problem, though. Kris could never get away with lying to his mom, not even over the phone. When he says he was bitten by an animal, she’s concerned, but he calms her down by pointing out that he’s since been all patched up. They talk about his money situation and when he’ll next be able to come home. They both know it’s going be much later than either wants to think about. Still, talking to her, just hearing her voice, makes him happy.

It does nothing for the restless feeling.

Kris eventually goes out of his way to stop in an internet café and look up the lunar cycle. The full moon is in less than five days. Kris convinces himself that he’s just being paranoid and that nothing is going to happen. The next few days and nights pass without incident, which reassures Kris that Adam was just messing with his head. He’s not going to become a wolf.

Kris is walking home from playing on a street corner, though he has plans to go to a bar later in the evening to play for two to three hours for a little bit of money. Dusk is just passing and he’s feeling grouchier than ever. He’s rounding a corner when the tunnel vision hits him. It’s so sudden and startling that he nearly drops his guitar case. He blinks but it doesn’t go away as his heart begins to hammer at his temples. Severe pain in his joints comes next and Kris falls to the ground in an alley two blocks away from his apartment, making noises just like Adam had the month before. He looks at his hands woefully as he breathes hard, telling himself that this is not happening.

Gritting his teeth, Kris heavily drops to his side on the pavement and immediately loses consciousness.



Kris is lying face down on concrete when he wakes up. His body feels broken and his breathing is labored. Slowly, he lifts himself up and goes to his knees. The movement causes a skull-numbing head rush and he ducks alongside the curb of the sidewalk to vomit in the street. He coughs and sputters as his body gets the shakes. He continues to wretch; the steely taste of blood on his tongue. If he had two brain cells to rub together he would be hoping it was his own, but right now, Kris is hard-pressed to recall his own name.

When the dizziness passes, Kris heaves for breath and glances up to the sky. It’s dawn. He made it through the night and he feels like death for doing so.

He sits there for a short while, breathing slowly in an attempt to calm the pulse fluttering behind his ears. It sort of works. He blinks and casually takes in his surroundings with wide eyes. He has absolutely no idea where he is. None. Nothing about this block looks familiar.

As the adrenaline recedes, Kris starts to feel the aches and pains of whatever happened last night. He glances down at his arms to see them covered in long scratches, like he was either attacked by an unwieldy thorn bush or someone with nails was trying to fight him off. The latter thought sickens him and it’s compounded by the taste of fresh blood on his tongue. Had he bitten someone last night?

Kris promptly pukes up the rest of his stomach contents into the street.

Wiping his mouth with his scratched up arm isn’t the best idea so he goes for his shirt and finds it hanging in tatters from his shoulders. He wipes his mouth on the intact hem and swallows over his parched tongue. He would really like to get that taste out of his mouth.

Between the pain and dizziness in his head and the queasiness in his stomach, he wonders if he’ll ever find his equilibrium again. Slowly, Kris starts to stand, but he finds his feet to be wobbly at best and takes a moment to find his footing. His bare feet scrape along the sidewalk as he cautiously walks, afraid he might topple at any second. It hurts to take more than a few steps thanks to an unexplained bruise on his right hip. Actually, as he grows more aware of his body, he finds several mysterious bruises and clothing tears. And his shoes, they are nowhere to be seen.

"Hey buddy, you got the time?"

It takes Kris a moment to realize that the guy in the beanie and sunglasses is talking to him. Instinctively, Kris looks at his wrist, though he knows he doesn’t wear a watch. He slowly shakes his head, which just makes him dizzier.

"Nah, man, I…" Kris’ eyes go a little wide when he looks up to see the glint of a knife. Pulse beginning to ramp up, Kris raises his shaky hands. "Look, man-"

"Get your drunk ass into that alley," the knife-wielder says and motions with said knife toward the nearest alley between buildings.

Kris makes a sorry looking attempt to walk over to the alley and finds himself being led into the alley with a little help from the friendly neighborhood thief. "Wallet, now!" the man snaps after shoving Kris towards a brick wall, which Kris collides with and sinks against slightly.

Hands roving, Kris pats around trying to find his wallet, keys, anything, but is dismayed when he finds nothing. He outturns his ripped pockets and finally, just shrugs.

"That’s it?" the thief says angrily.

Kris teeters as he pushes off the wall. "Things got a little crazy, last night, man," he mumbles. "I don’t know even know what day it is."

"I know you got an ATM card!"

"Nope," Kris says. "Sorry, man, economy sucks for us all."

Kris sees the punch coming, right as his face connects with the guy’s fist. He’s knocked back into the brick wall, smacking against it before he slips down to land hard on his ass.

"Jerk," Kris grumbles as his vision swims and he watches the thief run away. Now, he has another police report to make. Great.

Touching his face, Kris winces and comes back with bloody fingertips from a busted lip. He groans and wonders if this morning could get any worse?

It does when he’s a couple blocks over and stopped by some cops that mistake him for a drunk who had a wild night. Kris tries to explain that he’s just been mugged, but they’re not buying it. He passes the breathalyzer test, but the fact that his clothes are ripped to shreds, his face is pummeled, he’s ID-less, and he can’t put his shoeless feet one in front of the other are enough for them to pick him up. His irritable attitude doesn’t win him any points on the ride to the station, either.

When it’s time for his hallowed one-and-only phone call, he knows his roommates will be of no help. Calling his parents would probably make the situation worse. So, Kris decides to do something drastic. He requests to calls Lane, her number ingrained in his mind thanks to the number of business cards she’s shoved into his hand in the past month. She’s the connection to the money that will make this move faster.

"Hey, sorry it’s early and sorry I snapped at you…" is all Kris manages to mumble into the phone before she cuts him off.

"What are they holding you for?"

Kris sighs. "Identification. I’m not in the system and I kind of lost mine last night, when..." he winces, "…you know?"

"Got it," she quips. "I’ll handle this. You rest."

She’s gone before Kris gets the chance to thank her. Handing back the phone, Kris follows the officer as he trudges backs to the holding cell.

Surprisingly, Kris does get some rest. He looks beat to all hell, but refuses medical treatment in favor of sinking down in a corner of the cell and just passing out for a little while. There are a few others with him, but for some blessed reason, they leave him alone.

Kris doesn’t pay attention to how many hours pass, but it seems like it’s taking forever. Of course, that could just be him feeling agitated for the second day in a row, but really, he thought she would be quicker. Still, he’s relieved to see her when they call his name to step forward.

"Let’s get you home," she says as they walk out to her car after going through the release process.

Kris slows so he can look at her to show that he’s serious. "Actually," he sighs, "I’d like to see Adam."

Lane just smiles and keeps walking. Kris sucks on his bruised lip and ambles after her.



Anxiety fills Kris’ thoughts as they near the gates of Adam’s estate. He can’t help the creepy feeling that he’s going to be jumped or shot at any given moment when he sees a security guard watching them as they pull up to the mansion. Adam and an older man in a suit are outside on the steps leading to the ornately carved front door that haunts Kris’ dreams.

Kris doesn’t realize that he’s shaking until Lane puts a hand to his shoulder and he gasps softly. Lane looks concerned, but Kris puts on a stern face. "I’m all right," he says as he pushes her hand away before getting out of the car.

The mansion is a grand sight with its pillars and balconies, which still awe Kris even on his second viewing. He can’t help but feel intimidated as he looks up to the three-floor home. There are probably a lot of places for a body to get lost in there.

After introductions are made, Kris is led inside to a sitting room with a couch that he would normally feel guilty for sitting on in his filthy state, but today, he’s too tired and agitated to care. The guy in a suit turns out to be Dr. Huffstutler, Adam’s doctor, who was called in after Lane had told Adam that they were coming. Adam stands in a corner of the room, fidgeting, as Kris is examined. Kris grumbles and hisses as the doctor pokes at him and orders him around, checking for broken bones and more serious injuries.

"Are you done?" Kris asks testily, blinking rapidly as the doctor puts away his pen light.

Dr. Huffstutler smiles thinly. "One more question," he says and folds his hands. Kris raises his brow. "Do you have any questions for me?"

Kris swallows roughly and glances down at the angry red marks on his arms. "Are the scratches from a person?"

Sighing, Dr. Huffstutler takes a closer look at Kris’ arms. He runs his finger along one particularly deep mark that broke the skin of Kris’ forearm. "It’s impossible to tell," Dr. Huffstutler says as he sits back in his chair. "It’s likely that you made them yourself when you were..." his voice trails off.

"A wolf," Kris supplies, which gets a nod.

"I’ve injured myself plenty of times," Adam adds before coming to take a seat next to Kris on the couch and give his shoulder a squeeze. "Don’t worry about it."

"Yeah, thanks," Kris says with a frown as he shrugs Adam off. "We need to talk," he adds firmly. "I think you know why I’m really here and it’s not to get a physical."

Dr. Huffstutler clears his throat and stands. "Ice that chin. I’ll leave some ointment for the scratches. You should shower and eat something."

"Thanks," Kris says as he shakes Dr. Huffstutler’s hand.

Dr. Huffstutler’s parting words, "As always, Adam and now Kris, your secret is safe," aren’t very reassuring to Kris. He doesn’t trust anyone in this house.

"Would you like a shower and maybe some fresh clothes?" Adam asks, putting a hand near Kris on the couch.

"No thanks," Kris says, still frowning. "I’d really like to talk one-on-one," he adds as he eyes the security guard passing the doorway.

"Of course," Adam replies with a nod. "This way," he says as he stands and holds a hand out to Kris.

Kris snubs Adam and pushes himself up off of the couch, wincing as he does so. "I’m fine," he spits out when Adam puts a hand on his arm to steady him.

Adam sighs and slowly leads the way to another room on the first floor. It’s a second sitting room, but this one has a door, which Adam shuts as soon as they’re inside. The closed door makes Kris’ anxiety spike, but at least they have privacy. Adam waits for Kris to take a seat on the sectional couch before joining him. Kris leans forward on his knees and rubs his hands over his face.

"How are you feeling?" Adam asks with a sympathetic frown that Kris can see through his fingers.

Kris rolls his eyes and lets his hands fall. "Do I look that bad?"

"You look like shit, babe."

Nodding, Kris presses his lips together. He knows he’s pretty beat up and likely smells bad. He probably should have taken the offer on that shower. "Yeah. Thanks," he says with a sigh.

"You also look like you have a lot of questions," Adam says carefully.

"Understatement."

"Ask me anything you want."

Kris looks at his hands, curling and uncurling his fingers, wondering what they look like when transformed. "How long have you been dealing with this?"

"About a year," Adam replies with a tilt of his head as he looks at Kris with compassion in his eyes. "It gets easier," he adds after a pause.

Kris scoffs. "I don’t see how it could."

"You don’t worry as much. The first time is definitely the worst, but if you have people to support you, it’s not that bad."

"You’re unbelievable," Kris says with a shake of his head. "Just because you can throw money at it doesn’t change the facts. You’re a wolf. You hurt people." Kris ducks his eyes. "I can’t live with that."

"Oh please," Adam huffs and Kris looks up in time to see a roll of his eyes. "The money just buys me a bigger house to rampage through." He leans closer and levels his voice. "Kris, I’ve had plenty of suicidal thoughts, but trust me, they get you nowhere on the path to acceptance."

"Accepting what?" Kris asks, feeling incredulous and irritated. "That I’m a wolf every full moon? That I can hurt people without being able to stop myself?" He balls his hands into fists. "I can’t even remember what happened!"

"That’s part of it. You remember nothing," Adam explains before shrugging. "So, why worry about it?"

"Because I care!" Kris snaps and pounds his fist on his knee. "You can’t tell me you don’t care! If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t be doing all of this."

Adam lets out a testy nasal sigh as his mouth presses into a thin line. "I didn’t say I don’t care. You think I lock myself in here for fun? Have you seen the bars on the windows? It’s so I don’t get out. It’s so I don’t hurt people."

Kris’ eyes narrow. "But bringing someone in to chew on, that’s okay."

"That," Adam says as he shakes his head, "was a serious lapse in judgment and should have never happened."

"Then, why?" Kris demands. "Why me?"

Adam sits back. A silence passes as Kris seethes at Adam. He’s certain he’s never been more angry or upset in his life. He’s ready to lash out, but can’t bring himself to do it. Hurting other people, that’s not who he is.

"Look at you," Adam says, gesturing at Kris with a wave. "You’re ready to bash my face in, aren’t you?"

"I’ve considered it."

"So what’s stopping you?" Adam challenges.

Kris reins himself in and blinks. "I just - I just can’t, okay?"

"It’s because you’re a good person," Adam explains. "You still have that left. After a year of being alone with this, my good will was so fucking gone that I couldn’t cope. That agitation you feel? It was to an extreme that I felt like the wolf was starting to take over. I wasn’t me anymore. And when I was the wolf…" He shudders. "We thought I was going to end up breaking out and killing my entire staff." He pauses to brush his hair away from his eyes. "So, giving the wolf ‘someone to chew on’ seemed like the best idea."

Kris swallows roughly during Adam’s rambling. He lets Adam keep going because he wants to understand, but all he hears is excuses for murder. He can’t sympathize with that. He’d rather kill himself, first.

Shaking his head in disgust, Kris can’t bring himself to even look at Adam. "I think I’ve heard enough," he says quietly.

"I don’t blame you if you hate me," Adam says. "But all I can say is that I’m sorry."

Hate is a strong word and Kris isn’t sure he’d use it to describe the mixture of feelings he has for Adam. Kris is a forgiving person, but he can’t bring himself to forgive Adam for making his life hell, not yet. It’s still too fresh. Still, he knows he can’t leave, as badly as he wants to. Even if they kill each other on the flip side, Kris knows that this mansion can contain him. He’s already seen it, firsthand, contain a wolf.

Kris stares at his hands and wonders what damage he’s already done. He feels a sudden weight on his chest and breathes in a deep breath to push back against it. This is so messed up; he still can’t believe it’s real.

"If I can’t convince you that it’s going to be okay," Adam says tentatively, "can I at least convince you to take a shower, put on some clean clothes, and eat something before dark?"

Kris closes his eyes. He knows that tonight means another amnesia-filled morning. "Yeah," he says softly before stiffly standing up. "That sounds great."



Kris takes his time in the shower. It gives him a chance to think, and he spends most of it with his hands planted on the wall, letting the hot water run over his head and down his aching and exhausted back. He reflects on his conversation with Adam while continuing to struggle with the idea that he is some sort of creature of the night. It’s difficult to wrap his head around.

Adam had been practically gentle as a wolf in comparison to Kris’ wild nature while transformed. At least, that is what he figures, given the state of his body. Maybe he’ll calm down in the future, or maybe one of them will end up killing the other tonight. It’s morbid to think about the possibilities that could end in death. A part of Kris hopes it will happen. He can’t live with waking up on random streets with the tang of blood in his mouth.

After the shower, Kris pulls on the clothes Adam gave him - a plain black t-shirt, a pair of pajama pants that he has to roll the top of so he’s not walking on them, and some fluffy house shoes that make him feel like he’s continually walking on pillows. The fact that there’s no underwear doesn’t bother him. He’d rather go commando than wear another dude’s boxers. That’s just weird.

It’s late in the afternoon when he finally shuffles out of the bathroom with a towel on his shoulders and his hair a damp mess. He’s mildly creeped out to find Adam waiting for him in the hallway looking sheepish. He raises his brow, but doesn’t ask how long Adam has been standing there.

"Um," Kris hums awkwardly after they’ve been staring at each other for several seconds, long enough for an approaching maid to look between them and excuse herself.

Adam blinks. "Sorry, it’s just-" he begins, but then shakes his head. "Are you hungry?"

"I could eat a horse," Kris says as he roughs up his hair with the towel. He pauses. "Er, not that I actually want to eat horse."

Adam laughs and Kris realizes it’s the first time he’s seen Adam genuinely smile. It briefly breaks the tension between them, which is nice.

"I think we’re fresh out of horse, but we’ll find you something," Adam says, turning to walk and gesturing for Kris to follow.

The kitchen is huge. Kris wonders why anyone outside of that "Bam!" guy on TV would need a kitchen like this, but he’s not complaining. The place is full of food that he can’t see, but can smell. His eyes suddenly feel as big as his stomach, which rumbles as he’s sniffing the air to take it all in.

"I don’t know what you want," Adam says as he goes to one of two refrigerators, "but I’m a freak when it comes to food. I don’t eat a lot of meat, but I’m sure we have some chicken."

Chicken? Kris’ stomach makes another gurgle as he raises himself up onto a stool at an island counter in the middle of the room. "Chicken’s great. I’d even eat it out of a can if I have to." It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.

Adam scrunches his face as if Kris had said something terribly disgusting. "You’re delusional if think I have chicken in a can," he says.

Kris snorts lightly. "Sorry, was that offensive?"

"Extremely," Adam replies with a slight frown before going back to the fridge. He hums as he lifts and pushes around a few things. "Do you like chicken curry?"

"Yeah," Kris says with a yawn before sitting up straighter. "I mean, yes, thank you."

Adam nods and pulls out a little tub of what Kris assumes is the curry. He also grabs a bottle of something and sets it down in front of Kris. "Drink that."

Kris grabs the bottle and looks at the label. "Coconut water?" he says skeptically.

"It’s good for you."

"Like vegetables?" Kris asks as he opens the bottle.

Adam rolls his eyes. "Drink it. You need to hydrate and you’ll feel better."

Kris takes a sip. It’s not that bad. Still, he’d prefer regular old tap water to this.

"This is going to take a couple minutes to heat up," Adam says. "Do you want anything else?"

"Don’t care as long as I’m getting fed."

Kris shrugs off the towel and sets it to the counter. He tangles his feet with the supports of the stool so the toes of the slippers are just barely touching. He then momentarily droops until his face is on the counter. He sighs. He’s so frickin’ tired. He just wants to sleep after the chicken curry, but knows that’s not possible. It’s too close to dusk, now.

Kris gives a start and sits up immediately when a hand touches his shoulder, his heart leaping into his throat. Instead of drawing back, the hand tightens its grip. He looks to see Adam standing next to him with an icepack in-hand.

"It’s just me," Adam says quietly before pressing the icepack to Kris’ bruised chin.

Kris winces and shudders when he gets a sudden chill. "That hurts," he says tightly, but doesn’t pull away even as his chin aches. This is doctor’s orders. Sort of.

Breath calming, Kris trades stares with Adam. "I can hold it," Kris eventually says, when the staring starts to feel awkward.

Adam falters with a small frown and sets the icepack on the counter. He then goes to retrieve the curry, which Kris can smell the moment Adam opens the microwave. He breathes in deeply. It smells so good.

"I’ll let you eat in peace," Adam says after bringing Kris the curry and utensils. He leaves the kitchen with a sigh.

The curry is hot enough to make Kris sweat, which he enjoys. He puts it away quickly, not taking the time to savor it. He’s too hungry for that. Afterwards, he washes out the dish in the sink and rinses the utensils, too. It’s habit from living in an apartment with a minimal supply of forks.

Kris walks out of the kitchen and wanders to the foyer of the home. The security guard is nowhere to be seen. In fact, he doesn’t see a single person bustling around doing chores like he had earlier. "Hello?" he calls out.

"We’re the only two here." Adam’s voice spins Kris around. "The sun should be going down soon."

Kris nods as he stares up at Adam, who’s at the top of the stairs. He gestures to the intact windows on either side of the front door. "Your people work fast."

"Money makes them faster," Adam replies before taking a step down the stairs. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I want to claw my skin off." Kris frowns as he flexes his fingers. His agitation level is running high.

Adam nods as if he understands. "We should get ready."

"Ready?" Kris’ brow rises. He doesn’t really understand how you get "ready" to Hulk-out.

"Come upstairs and I’ll explain."

Feeling crotchety and apprehensive, Kris slowly ascends the stairs. Adam leads him into a room that has no windows with a large area rug on the floor and a table in one corner. The rug looks like it’s been through some battles with claws. Kris swallows roughly when he understands before Adam even says, "This is the normal transformation room."

"All right," Kris says with a shrug. "What now?"

"You should get undressed."

Kris blinks and his brow frets. "Excuse me?"

"So you don’t destroy the clothes," Adam says, which explains why he was naked when Kris first saw him.

Kris feels a flush creeping up his neck as Adam continues to stare at him. "Um, I’d rather not," he says, his modesty taking over.

Adam turns around and goes to the table. "I promise I won’t look."

"Yeah. Sure," Kris says, still refusing to get naked in front of someone he barely knows.

Adam starts undressing and Kris can’t bring himself to look away. It’s Adam frickin’ Lambert, after all. He should have a camera; he could make thousands of dollars off of this. Kris immediately feels guilty for the thought. He couldn’t do that to Adam. He couldn’t do that anyone, even if they did kidnap and torture him.

Kris looks away when Adam slips out of his black cotton pants. He puts a hand to the nearest wall and sighs. "What do you think is going to happen?" he asks, anxiety eating at him.

Adam laughs lightly. "I’m not really worried, if that’s what you’re asking."

"Why not?" Kris frowns. "We could - we could end up killing each other," he stammers before biting his bottom lip in worry. Why doesn’t Adam care more about this? This is serious stuff. He doesn’t want to die.

"You think too much," Adam says with a sigh.

"I don’t want to die."

"You won’t."

Kris lets his arm fall and turns to look over his shoulder. "How do you know that?" he asks a now naked Adam. It doesn’t bother Kris. He’s seen plenty of naked guys in his life as a former high school jock. He never minded seeing the other buff bodies in the showers, but shied away from putting himself on display.

Adam shakes his head. "At least take off the slippers? Those are kind of expensive."

Rolling his eyes, Kris toes out of the fuzzy things and kicks them aside. "Well," Kris begins after another pause, "I can’t say it’s been nice knowing you."

Adam ducks his gaze. "You really know how to lay it on thick, Kris," he says quietly.

Kris doesn’t get the chance to ask Adam what he means. In the next second, both of them are falling to the floor - Adam huffing, Kris shouting in pain - before everything goes black.



Morning is a rude awakening for Kris. He comes to with a soft sniff and murmurs when he gets a whiff of sweat, cologne, and carpet. His head is throbbing and his shoulders ache. Without opening his eyes, Kris nuzzles the pillow under his head until his nose rubs against it and he realizes that he’s sleeping on human flesh.

Kris’ eyes fly open and he gives a startled gasp. It’s a shoulder and arm that he’s been cuddling with, which happen to be attached to a drowsy Adam. Kris’ lashes flutter as he tries to focus. His instinct is to crawl away as fast as possible, but Adam’s holding onto him, muttering "No, wait…"

"Let go of me!" Kris says frantically as he tugs his body and digs his hands into the carpet, desperately trying to get away. Adam’s hold goes limp and Kris drags in a sharp breath when Adam’s hand slips over his bare hip as he crawls.

Nearly crashing into a coffee table, Kris scrambles away until he’s a good distance from Adam and he collapses. He gets a sudden chill and shivers. His head pounds as he rises to his knees, but stays on his hands. Chest heaving, he tries to find his breath as the world spins around him. He’s certain he’s going to puke.

"Whoa, slow down," Adam says. "Slow down or you’re going to pass out."

Kris shivers as he sucks down air; his head dipped low to the floor. Adam is soon at his side and rubbing his back - his bare back.

"Calm down, babe," Adam says with shushing noise.

Still shaking, Kris shoots Adam a glare. "Where’re my clothes?!" he demands.

Adam’s hand moves to massage the back of Kris’ neck. Kris shuts his eyes and sets his jaw. He really doesn’t appreciate the fawning.

"I guess your other side didn’t like pants," Adam says quietly.

"So, this is funny to you?!" Kris snaps.

"No," Adam sighs. "But I know just as much as you do of what happened last night, which is nada."

Kris leans down to press his forehead to the floor before collapsing onto his side. Adam’s hands follow him for the entire trip. Kris looks up into Adam’s concerned face. "Is there a sheet or something I can use?" he asks, getting testy. "I don’t want to be naked on some stranger’s floor."

Frowning thinly and possibly looking hurt, Adam glances around the room. He slowly walks away on his knees before returning with a throw blanket, which he lays over Kris and Kris curls up into a tight ball. He still feels nauseous. "Thanks," he huffs.

Kris sees that Adam is watching him, but he ignores it. He just wants the room to stop going topsy-turvy on him. "I don’t remember a thing," he mumbles after sighing and considering falling back to sleep, there on the floor, which he decides would be a really bad idea.

Adam laughs softly. "Eventually, you’re going to get used to that."

"I don’t like it," Kris grumbles. "At all."

"Do you really want to know what you were doing as a wolf?" Adam asks, putting emphasis on the "really."

Kris goes momentarily quiet as he considers this. "Yes." He can’t stand the fact that he has no control over his own body and wants to know what happens, every detail. He wants to know because it will make him feel a little saner about the whole ordeal.

"Hmmm," Adam hums. "Well, I think I can blame you for one thing."

"Which is?" Kris glances around to Adam. He jerks away to shield his eyes as Adam turns around and shimmies his hips, which shakes his very pale butt and its very distinctive wound.

"Oh no," Kris gasps. "I bit you?"

"Yeah, you bit me on the ass, babe. No denying that."

"Oh gosh, does it hurt?" Kris babbles, knowing it’s a stupid question. Of course it hurts. It’s a wolf bite.

"Like hell," Adam says as he turns back around. "But I’ll deal with that later. I’m too tired to worry about it. At least I’m not bleeding."

"I’m sorry," Kris says, feeling remorse for something he knows he couldn’t control.

Adam’s hand is then on his shoulder and Kris rolls to look at Adam, making his head feel dizzy. Adam gives him a small smile as he tucks the blanket under Kris’ shoulders and sides. Kris’ brow rises. This is weird.

"It’s okay," Adam says with a shake of his head. "I think I deserve a little nip after what I’ve put you through. At least we didn’t kill each other." He stops with a hand on either side of Kris and he looms above. "You should get some rest. Do you want to stay here or go to a guest room?"

"Together?" Kris says dumbly.

Adam laughs, it’s weak and more of a sigh, but still it’s a laugh. "No. That’s not what I meant, but if that’s what you want…" He’s blushing.

Kris shakes his head slowly as he sits up. "No. I don’t. I’m just not thinking clearly. My head is killing me."

"I’ll get you something for that," Adam says with a nod. He stands up and holds out his hand, which Kris takes and pulls himself up to his feet. The blanket immediately goes around his waist.

"Maybe some pants, too?" Kris suggests, making Adam laugh some more. Still dizzy, Kris has to lean against Adam for support.

"You really are modest," Adam says, putting an arm around Kris’ shoulders.

Kris shrugs him off and continues to walk, slowly. "Being naked around strangers isn’t my thing."

"I don’t have to be a stranger," Adam says with a sigh.

Ignoring that, Kris keeps walking. Everything hurts; he just wants a bed, a couch, anything to crash on. Adam leads him to a guest bedroom. Kris keeps his eyes averted to avoid looking at Adam’s bite. It makes him feel terrible. Can’t he make it through one night of this without attacking someone?

Forgetting about pants, a naked Kris crawls underneath the bed covers. He lets out little grunts as he tries to make himself comfortable and not put his weight on any specific bruise. He’s fully settled in and ready for sleep when Adam returns to the room. Kris raises his brow and Adam proffers and shakes a bottle of aspirin. He puts it and a glass of water to the bedside table.

"Thanks."

Kris is stunned stiff when Adam leans down to kiss his forehead, cheek, and the corner of his mouth. "Sleep, baby," Adam says quietly as he pets Kris’ messy hair. "We’ll talk later."

"What the heck was that?" Kris sputters.

Adam smiles shyly in the doorway. "I’m glad you’re here, Kris," he says before closing the door.

Kris wonders if he should just go home. He’s asleep before he can decide.