More Kradam. (1/2)
Author: xxkatiekatiex
Name: I Still Can't Dance (1/2)
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): Kradam.
Disclaimer: These two men belong wholly to themselves and I doubt that this will ever happen. Entirely a work of fiction, entirely from my imagination.
Warning: None.
Author's Note: Unbeta'd. I have realized that I love writing comingout!fic. Just because there's a lot of ways to do it, and because there's no wrong way to write it. It's an emotional scene to write, and sometimes I can capture that well. Let me know if I did so with this piece. Though I don't much like the beginning, and it starts off slow, I hope it kind of sort of holds your interest. A little rushed? Yes. But it's been running through my head for a week now.
Looking back, Kris Allen didn't know how it happened. One day he was an average guy from Arkansas, a down home, easy going kind of guy with a good voice, and the next... he needed to live in LA because he had a recording contract with a major record label.
This was the primary reason that Adam Lambert was singing Ring of Fire in his bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.
To make a long story short, Kris had moved into Adam's two bedroom apartment while he looked for a home for himself in the LA area. Katy was still back in Arkansas, waiting for the call that would tell her to pack up and come west.
At first, no one seemed to really care that much about the whole thing. He'd moved in with his closest friend in LA, that was all.
Then Allison had heard.
Kris didn't know what kind of person Allison had been raised to be, but there were some things that young girls just weren't supposed to talk about. She'd been bent on getting Kris and Adam to realize how 'in love' they were since top 12 week, and when she'd gotten wind of the fact that the pair was sharing a living space again, by choice, no less, she'd called Kris. Her first question was something along the lines of 'is he a good kisser?' and quickly went into topics that no sixteen year old girl should really talk about with young men. Or anyone, really. Especially not Kris.
It wouldn't have bothered him all that much, normally. But Adam had been listening into the phone call, his breath hot on Kris's neck, and he'd laughed silently as she continued. When Kris finally slammed the phone back onto the counter, Adam had only quirked an eyebrow at his roommate before saying something about how he was 'going out to his favorite club tonight', and that 'Kris was welcome to join him and his friends for something he'd never experienced before'.
The glint in Adam's eyes was enough to make Kris wilt at the thought of one of his friend's 'clubs'.
That had been two weeks ago today, and today, his roommate was primping for another night on the down.
"You're sure you don't want to join us?" Adam said as he emerged from the bathroom, rubbing something into his hair. His makeup was already done, his eyes darker and more dangerous than they'd been moments before, and a line of green rhinestones raced down his neck. It was funny how natural he looked, Kris mused.
Kris shook his head laughing. "Not quite my scene, Adam. You know that."
Adam disappeared into his closet for a moment, tossing out a pair of distressed black jeans and a green vee neck that matched his rhinestones. "I don't see why it's not your scene, to be honest." he said, emerging in a pair of breifs that matched his rhinestones and shirt perfectly. "They're just like me. A lot of them not nearly so... flamboyant." He said with a grin.
"I don't think I can really handle a room full of Adams." It had taken a few weeks to get used to just the one, but now that he had, he wouldn't give up his friendship with the older man for anything.
"You can handle audiences of millions."
A fact that Kris just knew Adam would bring up, he almost blushed. "You know I'd look rediculous. I dance like a white guy. And my cloest isn't quite... like yours. I'd just look rediculous." He finished lamely.
His friend shimmied into the tight jeans before stepping toward Kris and reaching to turn his face gently. Adam's hand was large and warm, and his gaze upon Kris's face was thoughtful and affectionate. Kris tried not to notice. "I don't know about that-- A little mascara, some eyeliner, you'd fit right in. You know I bought you some new clothes, right?"
Actually, Kris had forgotten about the bag of clothes that Adam had tossed onto his bed a few nights after he'd moved in. After a moment, he remembered that the bag lay, unopened, in the bottom of his closet. "Maybe next time," he said, gently pushing his roommate's hand away. "I'll be here when you get back."
Adam shrugged, turning around to pull his shirt on. "Alright, alright. It would be more fun if you were there, though," he finished before grabbing his keys and his wallet from his bedside table. "Wait up for me, I'll tell you all about the weirdos I meet," he added from the doorway, a smile on his face at the prospect of meeting said weirdos.
Kris waved his goodbyes, and then the door was closed and the apartment was silent. After standing in Adam's room for a long moment, he trudged back to his own room, fully intending to put on a pair of sweats and watch TV for a few hours.
But something stopped him from reaching for the loose grey sweats that were bunched at the base of his bed. The white shopping bag was calling his name from the depths of his closet.
It was only polite to try it on, Kris mused. Besides, Adam would love seeing him wearing something he'd picked out. There was nothing he enjoyed more than seeing his masterpieces on display.
Once the bag was dumped on his bed, Kris began to feel a little bit lost. There were only five items of clothing, so it wasn't all that overwhelming.
A pair of black jeans, skinny and stretchy, and maybe a little bit sparkly. Nothing he couldn't deal with. A purple vee neck shirt that was soft and thin, silky to the touch when Kris ran his hand over it. A gunmetal grey vest, a little more fancy than Kris was used to but nice nonetheless. Another vee neck, this one with a long tear across the back where his shoulderblades would lie, and...
Oh dear God. Kris was blushing before he even picked up the last item.
A pair of light blue boxer breifs, a cut that wouldn't show under the skinny jeans. They were silky and stretchy, a fit that would hug every inch of skin--
Adam had bought him underwear. The thought embarassed him, made him laugh, and made his stomach clench with an emotion he couldn't define.
He couldn't wear this stuff.
Well, why not? A part of him wondered as he ran a hand over the purple fabric of the first shirt. It was the nicest feeling fabric he could remember touching, and he kind of wanted to put it on.
"Fuck it."
Stripping off his own shirt, Kris pulled the other garmit on, letting it float to his hip bones. Now though, it seemed only right to put on the vest. He pulled it on before closing his door to look in the full length mirror on the back.
Kris held back a laugh at the image of the purple shirt and grey vest worn over his wrinkly cargo shorts. Without another thought about it, he pulled off his cargo shorts and reached for the black jeans on the bed.
At the last second though, his hand swerved to reach for the underwear, which he held in one hand for a moment.
Kris was a boxer man. He liked some room to breath, and it didn't look like there would be much room in there.
The same phrase blurted from his mouth again. "Fuck it," and he pulled off his own underwear. After a moment of shimmying, he wore both the underwear and the pants, and he looked back in the mirror.
It was funny how much a change of clothes could change the way a person actually looked. Kris was a short, stout kind of guy, but in the skinny jeans, he looked taller and a little less like he had too much weight around his stomach. It was a flattering look on him, and the jeans fit perfectly, thanks to Adam's accurate eyeballing of his size. And, as an added bonus, they were surprisingly comfortable.
Kris looked around the room, still grinning proudly, before his eyes landed on his bed again. His face fell.
There was a black pencil on his bed.
Adam had bought him eyeliner.
What kind of guy did Adam think he was?
Well, Kris concluded, he expected his young companion to give into his curiosity. He picked up the pencil and brought it to the bathroom, leaving it in the sink where he'd remember to do something with it later. He wanted to drink to his bravery about putting on the clothes Adam had suppled him with. The eyeliner would wait, if he ever had the guts to pick it up again.
When Adam returned at around 2 in the morning, Kris was sprawled on the couch with an empty shot glass twirling in his fingers. He hadn't had a drop over two shots of tequila, so his gaze was clear when he looked up to see his roommate in the front door, frozen, a smile pasted across his face. "You look amazing, Kris!" He finally said, his smile only growing wider. "Stand up, spin around, let me take a look!"
Kris stood, laughing, and modeled the clothes for his friend. He hoped he hadn't wrinkled anything too much, he wanted to make sure Adam got the full effect that he'd gotten upon the first look in the mirror.
"I've gotta say, the clothes do you justice." Adam said after a long moment of assessing the shorter man's outfit. His gaze trailed up Kris's body one last time before he added "But..."
"But what?" Kris replied. For whatever reason, he didn't want to disappoint Adam. Surely the pants weren't too long? Should he have buttoned the vest?
Adam shook his head slowly. "Something's missing. I'm not sure what." he said before giving Kris a bright smile. "I'm so glad you like them, though!"
Kris hadn't really thought about his wearing of the clothes meaning that he liked them, but he did. He enjoyed the fact that they were comfortable and made Adam so happy. "I do. I definitely do."
The other man's smile did not lessen as he sat down on the couch, patting the seat next to him for Kris to sit back down. "You should have seen some of the people at the club."
Kris laughed, joining him on the couch. "Do tell."
And with that, Adam launched into a recounting of his evening out. Kris was well content to just listen-- the animated way Adam spoke always made him smile, and the way he leaned into a conversation conspiratorially was always endearing to Kris. After he got about halfway through a story about an old man with no pants on when he broke off, gazing intently into Kris's eyes.
The younger man fought not to look away. The intensity of Adam's look made him both want to lean into him and get up and run for the door.
"That's it! You're not wearing any makup, are you?" Adam returned to his comfortable slouched position on the couch. Kris let out a silent sigh of relief.
He shook his head, mystified, and Adam sighed before grabbing his arm and pulling him down the hallway to the bathroom. "Adam, wait--"
"Don't be a coward. I'm good at this." Adam's voice gave no room for arguement, and he grabbed the black pencil from the sink where Kris had tossed it. "Look at me."
The younger man couldn't look away if he wanted to. Adam's grip on his head made it impossible to turn or move at all. He lifted the pencil to his roommate's eyes, and, biting his bottom lip, swiped along his top eyelash. Kris barely noticed, because Adam's eyes were spiderwebbed with lines of grey and blue. He repeated the motion, and Kris let out another sigh. This wasn't so bad.
"Okay, almost done." Adam said. "Look up."
Kris did, and almost jumped when he could feel Adam's breath land squarely on his lips. His face had inched closer to make sure that he didn't put his roommate's eye out, and the difference was palpable. The air in the room seemed stiffling and seemed to smell slightly of vodka. Kris shifted slightly, and for the first time, Adam noticed.
The taller man cocked his head to the side. "You doing alright?" he said quietly, almost in a murmur. His face had not moved away from Kris's, and when their gaze met (Adam had finished applying the makeup), Kris was shocked to see him so close.
"I'm fine." Kris mentally slapped himself. His answer had been too quick to be honest. Something just felt-- weird, that was all. He dropped his gaze to his feet, but Adam brought his gaze back up with a single finger beneath his chin.
For a long moment, they were both silent. Kris felt Adam's hand shake for a fraction of a second, but then he steeled himself again and said gently "It's okay."
Kris heard him say something else, but he wasn't listening anymore. His mind was racing through a series of moments that he'd held onto with no hope of ever forgetting.
Because now... it was okay.
It was okay that Adam had a way of smiling that made Kris's stomach twist. It was okay that he watched Adam put on eyeliner sometimes, marveling at the steadiness of his hand. It was okay that his heart seemed to hurt when he saw Adam was down. It was okay that Kris loved it when Adam messed with his hair.
He wasn't sure why, but the fact that Adam seemed to both know and accept these facts made them real. The revelation made Kris's eyes widen, and Adam repeated himself.
"It's okay. It's always been okay."
Both of them stood in silence for a moment-- waiting, watching the other for a final reaction.
Then Adam spoke again, turning them both to look in the mirror. "Look," he murmured to the smaller man.
Kris did look, but not at his eye makeup-- at least not at first. First he looked at the way Adam stood, his shoulders back and his face unapologetic. Then he looked at the way they fit together. The way Kris's height just about matched the height of Adam's chin. Finally, he looked to his face.
It was just eyeliner. But it made Kris into a different person. A person who wouldn't apologize for feeling the way he did-- a person that would maybe take a chance or something. It made his eyes look the same way Adam's did. Suddenly, he felt powerful and... dare he even think it... a little bit sexy. "I think it's perfect," Kris said honestly.
"Now you can come to the club with us sometime." Came Adam's ready reply. He'd been planning this all along, just to get Kris in a situation where he'd be uncomfortable. But Kris didn't feel so uncomfortable now.
"I guess so." Kris replied, steeling himself for the next phrase. "But I still can't dance."
The look on Adam's face was one of pure glee. In the mirror, Kris watched Adam stoop to rest his chin on the younger man's shoulder. And then, in a soft whisper, came his reply. "That's a lesson for another time."
Name: I Still Can't Dance (1/2)
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): Kradam.
Disclaimer: These two men belong wholly to themselves and I doubt that this will ever happen. Entirely a work of fiction, entirely from my imagination.
Warning: None.
Author's Note: Unbeta'd. I have realized that I love writing comingout!fic. Just because there's a lot of ways to do it, and because there's no wrong way to write it. It's an emotional scene to write, and sometimes I can capture that well. Let me know if I did so with this piece. Though I don't much like the beginning, and it starts off slow, I hope it kind of sort of holds your interest. A little rushed? Yes. But it's been running through my head for a week now.
Looking back, Kris Allen didn't know how it happened. One day he was an average guy from Arkansas, a down home, easy going kind of guy with a good voice, and the next... he needed to live in LA because he had a recording contract with a major record label.
This was the primary reason that Adam Lambert was singing Ring of Fire in his bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.
To make a long story short, Kris had moved into Adam's two bedroom apartment while he looked for a home for himself in the LA area. Katy was still back in Arkansas, waiting for the call that would tell her to pack up and come west.
At first, no one seemed to really care that much about the whole thing. He'd moved in with his closest friend in LA, that was all.
Then Allison had heard.
Kris didn't know what kind of person Allison had been raised to be, but there were some things that young girls just weren't supposed to talk about. She'd been bent on getting Kris and Adam to realize how 'in love' they were since top 12 week, and when she'd gotten wind of the fact that the pair was sharing a living space again, by choice, no less, she'd called Kris. Her first question was something along the lines of 'is he a good kisser?' and quickly went into topics that no sixteen year old girl should really talk about with young men. Or anyone, really. Especially not Kris.
It wouldn't have bothered him all that much, normally. But Adam had been listening into the phone call, his breath hot on Kris's neck, and he'd laughed silently as she continued. When Kris finally slammed the phone back onto the counter, Adam had only quirked an eyebrow at his roommate before saying something about how he was 'going out to his favorite club tonight', and that 'Kris was welcome to join him and his friends for something he'd never experienced before'.
The glint in Adam's eyes was enough to make Kris wilt at the thought of one of his friend's 'clubs'.
That had been two weeks ago today, and today, his roommate was primping for another night on the down.
"You're sure you don't want to join us?" Adam said as he emerged from the bathroom, rubbing something into his hair. His makeup was already done, his eyes darker and more dangerous than they'd been moments before, and a line of green rhinestones raced down his neck. It was funny how natural he looked, Kris mused.
Kris shook his head laughing. "Not quite my scene, Adam. You know that."
Adam disappeared into his closet for a moment, tossing out a pair of distressed black jeans and a green vee neck that matched his rhinestones. "I don't see why it's not your scene, to be honest." he said, emerging in a pair of breifs that matched his rhinestones and shirt perfectly. "They're just like me. A lot of them not nearly so... flamboyant." He said with a grin.
"I don't think I can really handle a room full of Adams." It had taken a few weeks to get used to just the one, but now that he had, he wouldn't give up his friendship with the older man for anything.
"You can handle audiences of millions."
A fact that Kris just knew Adam would bring up, he almost blushed. "You know I'd look rediculous. I dance like a white guy. And my cloest isn't quite... like yours. I'd just look rediculous." He finished lamely.
His friend shimmied into the tight jeans before stepping toward Kris and reaching to turn his face gently. Adam's hand was large and warm, and his gaze upon Kris's face was thoughtful and affectionate. Kris tried not to notice. "I don't know about that-- A little mascara, some eyeliner, you'd fit right in. You know I bought you some new clothes, right?"
Actually, Kris had forgotten about the bag of clothes that Adam had tossed onto his bed a few nights after he'd moved in. After a moment, he remembered that the bag lay, unopened, in the bottom of his closet. "Maybe next time," he said, gently pushing his roommate's hand away. "I'll be here when you get back."
Adam shrugged, turning around to pull his shirt on. "Alright, alright. It would be more fun if you were there, though," he finished before grabbing his keys and his wallet from his bedside table. "Wait up for me, I'll tell you all about the weirdos I meet," he added from the doorway, a smile on his face at the prospect of meeting said weirdos.
Kris waved his goodbyes, and then the door was closed and the apartment was silent. After standing in Adam's room for a long moment, he trudged back to his own room, fully intending to put on a pair of sweats and watch TV for a few hours.
But something stopped him from reaching for the loose grey sweats that were bunched at the base of his bed. The white shopping bag was calling his name from the depths of his closet.
It was only polite to try it on, Kris mused. Besides, Adam would love seeing him wearing something he'd picked out. There was nothing he enjoyed more than seeing his masterpieces on display.
Once the bag was dumped on his bed, Kris began to feel a little bit lost. There were only five items of clothing, so it wasn't all that overwhelming.
A pair of black jeans, skinny and stretchy, and maybe a little bit sparkly. Nothing he couldn't deal with. A purple vee neck shirt that was soft and thin, silky to the touch when Kris ran his hand over it. A gunmetal grey vest, a little more fancy than Kris was used to but nice nonetheless. Another vee neck, this one with a long tear across the back where his shoulderblades would lie, and...
Oh dear God. Kris was blushing before he even picked up the last item.
A pair of light blue boxer breifs, a cut that wouldn't show under the skinny jeans. They were silky and stretchy, a fit that would hug every inch of skin--
Adam had bought him underwear. The thought embarassed him, made him laugh, and made his stomach clench with an emotion he couldn't define.
He couldn't wear this stuff.
Well, why not? A part of him wondered as he ran a hand over the purple fabric of the first shirt. It was the nicest feeling fabric he could remember touching, and he kind of wanted to put it on.
"Fuck it."
Stripping off his own shirt, Kris pulled the other garmit on, letting it float to his hip bones. Now though, it seemed only right to put on the vest. He pulled it on before closing his door to look in the full length mirror on the back.
Kris held back a laugh at the image of the purple shirt and grey vest worn over his wrinkly cargo shorts. Without another thought about it, he pulled off his cargo shorts and reached for the black jeans on the bed.
At the last second though, his hand swerved to reach for the underwear, which he held in one hand for a moment.
Kris was a boxer man. He liked some room to breath, and it didn't look like there would be much room in there.
The same phrase blurted from his mouth again. "Fuck it," and he pulled off his own underwear. After a moment of shimmying, he wore both the underwear and the pants, and he looked back in the mirror.
It was funny how much a change of clothes could change the way a person actually looked. Kris was a short, stout kind of guy, but in the skinny jeans, he looked taller and a little less like he had too much weight around his stomach. It was a flattering look on him, and the jeans fit perfectly, thanks to Adam's accurate eyeballing of his size. And, as an added bonus, they were surprisingly comfortable.
Kris looked around the room, still grinning proudly, before his eyes landed on his bed again. His face fell.
There was a black pencil on his bed.
Adam had bought him eyeliner.
What kind of guy did Adam think he was?
Well, Kris concluded, he expected his young companion to give into his curiosity. He picked up the pencil and brought it to the bathroom, leaving it in the sink where he'd remember to do something with it later. He wanted to drink to his bravery about putting on the clothes Adam had suppled him with. The eyeliner would wait, if he ever had the guts to pick it up again.
When Adam returned at around 2 in the morning, Kris was sprawled on the couch with an empty shot glass twirling in his fingers. He hadn't had a drop over two shots of tequila, so his gaze was clear when he looked up to see his roommate in the front door, frozen, a smile pasted across his face. "You look amazing, Kris!" He finally said, his smile only growing wider. "Stand up, spin around, let me take a look!"
Kris stood, laughing, and modeled the clothes for his friend. He hoped he hadn't wrinkled anything too much, he wanted to make sure Adam got the full effect that he'd gotten upon the first look in the mirror.
"I've gotta say, the clothes do you justice." Adam said after a long moment of assessing the shorter man's outfit. His gaze trailed up Kris's body one last time before he added "But..."
"But what?" Kris replied. For whatever reason, he didn't want to disappoint Adam. Surely the pants weren't too long? Should he have buttoned the vest?
Adam shook his head slowly. "Something's missing. I'm not sure what." he said before giving Kris a bright smile. "I'm so glad you like them, though!"
Kris hadn't really thought about his wearing of the clothes meaning that he liked them, but he did. He enjoyed the fact that they were comfortable and made Adam so happy. "I do. I definitely do."
The other man's smile did not lessen as he sat down on the couch, patting the seat next to him for Kris to sit back down. "You should have seen some of the people at the club."
Kris laughed, joining him on the couch. "Do tell."
And with that, Adam launched into a recounting of his evening out. Kris was well content to just listen-- the animated way Adam spoke always made him smile, and the way he leaned into a conversation conspiratorially was always endearing to Kris. After he got about halfway through a story about an old man with no pants on when he broke off, gazing intently into Kris's eyes.
The younger man fought not to look away. The intensity of Adam's look made him both want to lean into him and get up and run for the door.
"That's it! You're not wearing any makup, are you?" Adam returned to his comfortable slouched position on the couch. Kris let out a silent sigh of relief.
He shook his head, mystified, and Adam sighed before grabbing his arm and pulling him down the hallway to the bathroom. "Adam, wait--"
"Don't be a coward. I'm good at this." Adam's voice gave no room for arguement, and he grabbed the black pencil from the sink where Kris had tossed it. "Look at me."
The younger man couldn't look away if he wanted to. Adam's grip on his head made it impossible to turn or move at all. He lifted the pencil to his roommate's eyes, and, biting his bottom lip, swiped along his top eyelash. Kris barely noticed, because Adam's eyes were spiderwebbed with lines of grey and blue. He repeated the motion, and Kris let out another sigh. This wasn't so bad.
"Okay, almost done." Adam said. "Look up."
Kris did, and almost jumped when he could feel Adam's breath land squarely on his lips. His face had inched closer to make sure that he didn't put his roommate's eye out, and the difference was palpable. The air in the room seemed stiffling and seemed to smell slightly of vodka. Kris shifted slightly, and for the first time, Adam noticed.
The taller man cocked his head to the side. "You doing alright?" he said quietly, almost in a murmur. His face had not moved away from Kris's, and when their gaze met (Adam had finished applying the makeup), Kris was shocked to see him so close.
"I'm fine." Kris mentally slapped himself. His answer had been too quick to be honest. Something just felt-- weird, that was all. He dropped his gaze to his feet, but Adam brought his gaze back up with a single finger beneath his chin.
For a long moment, they were both silent. Kris felt Adam's hand shake for a fraction of a second, but then he steeled himself again and said gently "It's okay."
Kris heard him say something else, but he wasn't listening anymore. His mind was racing through a series of moments that he'd held onto with no hope of ever forgetting.
Because now... it was okay.
It was okay that Adam had a way of smiling that made Kris's stomach twist. It was okay that he watched Adam put on eyeliner sometimes, marveling at the steadiness of his hand. It was okay that his heart seemed to hurt when he saw Adam was down. It was okay that Kris loved it when Adam messed with his hair.
He wasn't sure why, but the fact that Adam seemed to both know and accept these facts made them real. The revelation made Kris's eyes widen, and Adam repeated himself.
"It's okay. It's always been okay."
Both of them stood in silence for a moment-- waiting, watching the other for a final reaction.
Then Adam spoke again, turning them both to look in the mirror. "Look," he murmured to the smaller man.
Kris did look, but not at his eye makeup-- at least not at first. First he looked at the way Adam stood, his shoulders back and his face unapologetic. Then he looked at the way they fit together. The way Kris's height just about matched the height of Adam's chin. Finally, he looked to his face.
It was just eyeliner. But it made Kris into a different person. A person who wouldn't apologize for feeling the way he did-- a person that would maybe take a chance or something. It made his eyes look the same way Adam's did. Suddenly, he felt powerful and... dare he even think it... a little bit sexy. "I think it's perfect," Kris said honestly.
"Now you can come to the club with us sometime." Came Adam's ready reply. He'd been planning this all along, just to get Kris in a situation where he'd be uncomfortable. But Kris didn't feel so uncomfortable now.
"I guess so." Kris replied, steeling himself for the next phrase. "But I still can't dance."
The look on Adam's face was one of pure glee. In the mirror, Kris watched Adam stoop to rest his chin on the younger man's shoulder. And then, in a soft whisper, came his reply. "That's a lesson for another time."