fic: Untitled WIP
So, look what I found! I'm digging through my computer files, doing some organizing, and I see this thing. I have no memory of doing writing it and no clue as to why it's unfinished or where it was ever going to go. I'm posting it here so I can delete it from my computer. If you feel like mocking, please feel free!
He had maybe too much to drink the night before, but this is just wrong. He would remember if he was famous. He's not.
Except for the part where he apparently is.
Huh.
Because as of this moment he's got a couple people all moving around him, one of whom woke him up in his hotel room for an interview. On national television. Live. He's always wanted to get somewhere but he thought it'd be in theater, because the music business? Yeah, he had no idea how to find that door, never mind get a foot in. But here he is, being shoved down a hallway to give an interview about being famous and an amazing singer and runner-up on a show he's never heard of, American Idol, what the hell? And oh yeah. He obviously lost, too, so it all seems to be pretty much pointless.
He wants to go back to bed.
"Adam!"
He sees chairs, which are good. He can sit. Sit and not think about the interview he has to improvise in about twenty minutes. He actually looks up at the voice, though, because it sounds genuinely happy, not nagging or stressed or bossy.
Oddly enough, the first thing he notices is how small he is. Normally he'd notice the awful fashion sense or the bright smile or how fucking adorable he is. But he maybe notices the size first because the first impression is a hug and he can't really see him beyond the top of his head. He hugs back, he can do that, and maybe this whole situation isn't so bad after all. The guy leans back. "Are you okay?"
And the sum of Adam's experiences thus far in life have taught him that when cute guys look up at you expectantly you do something about it.
His first clue that maybe something is wrong with the whole kissing thing comes when the guy freezes and refuses to open his mouth. Undeterred, Adam grips his jaw and tilts his head back, open, and licks until his mouth opens, finally. He makes a happy noise, because yeah, this one's good.
The second clue that proves something's wrong is when, in the middle of maybe the most awesome kiss of his life, Adam's new boy jerks away.
"Hey," he says when they peel apart. He stares while he can, though, because wow. Not what he was expecting. Gorgeous, yeah, but the clothes. Jesus. He gets a weird look and he smiles quick, realizes there may be an actual problem here. "What is it?"
"What? You. Really? Adam."
Huh?
He just stares. A poke to his shoulder. "What the hell?"
"Don't you think that's a bit of an overreaction?"
Knocking on the door, interrupting. A girl hollers, "Fifteen minutes, Kris, Adam."
"You kissed me!" Kris (Adam's willing that's a safe bet, he knows his own goddamn name at least) is stuck between accusation and plain shock.
"So?" Because really, he doesn't think he's ever known anyone who hugs him like that but is afraid of a friendly kiss.
Kris just stares at him, then tugs him to sit down. "So? I'm married. You don't go for that, remember?" But now he looks more worried than anything.
"Yes." No. And studiously avoiding looking at Kris doesn't seem to be a deterrent.
He asks, "What's going on?"
"I don't know." And then he sees a packet on the table in front of them, leans forward and grabs it. "Shit."
Kris frowns. "What? It's just the script. You complained about it, yeah, the whole scripted interview thing, but I thought you agreed? And stop avoiding the question."
He is pretty impressive, with the glaring and pouting and all. But. Bigger issues. "Okay, you'll think I'm insane but I have no idea who you are or where I am or what the date is or what I'm supposed to go on camera and say in ten minutes, so I'm kind of screwed right now."
Yeah, that was sort of what he was expecting. The hand on his forehead is gentle, checking for fever (he thinks) but Kris is looking at him as if he's considering calling someone.
"Look, don't tell anyone, okay? Even if I am suddenly crazy it's probably not the best idea to have that all over television, right?"
Kris bites at his lip before going and peeking out the door. Adam hears him call distantly down the hall for someone before he turns back around. "Look, why don't you go back to your hotel? I'll come to your room and we'll talk about this, okay?"
He's doing that cautious soothing voice and Adam wants to smack him, not least of all for not seeing how weird it is that they apparently go to each other's rooms all the time. But hey, play nice, and he nods and sneaks out the back stairwell and hopes Kris knows what he's doing.
---
He had maybe too much to drink the night before, but this is just wrong. He would remember if he was famous. He's not.
Except for the part where he apparently is.
Huh.
Because as of this moment he's got a couple people all moving around him, one of whom woke him up in his hotel room for an interview. On national television. Live. He's always wanted to get somewhere but he thought it'd be in theater, because the music business? Yeah, he had no idea how to find that door, never mind get a foot in. But here he is, being shoved down a hallway to give an interview about being famous and an amazing singer and runner-up on a show he's never heard of, American Idol, what the hell? And oh yeah. He obviously lost, too, so it all seems to be pretty much pointless.
He wants to go back to bed.
"Adam!"
He sees chairs, which are good. He can sit. Sit and not think about the interview he has to improvise in about twenty minutes. He actually looks up at the voice, though, because it sounds genuinely happy, not nagging or stressed or bossy.
Oddly enough, the first thing he notices is how small he is. Normally he'd notice the awful fashion sense or the bright smile or how fucking adorable he is. But he maybe notices the size first because the first impression is a hug and he can't really see him beyond the top of his head. He hugs back, he can do that, and maybe this whole situation isn't so bad after all. The guy leans back. "Are you okay?"
And the sum of Adam's experiences thus far in life have taught him that when cute guys look up at you expectantly you do something about it.
His first clue that maybe something is wrong with the whole kissing thing comes when the guy freezes and refuses to open his mouth. Undeterred, Adam grips his jaw and tilts his head back, open, and licks until his mouth opens, finally. He makes a happy noise, because yeah, this one's good.
The second clue that proves something's wrong is when, in the middle of maybe the most awesome kiss of his life, Adam's new boy jerks away.
"Hey," he says when they peel apart. He stares while he can, though, because wow. Not what he was expecting. Gorgeous, yeah, but the clothes. Jesus. He gets a weird look and he smiles quick, realizes there may be an actual problem here. "What is it?"
"What? You. Really? Adam."
Huh?
He just stares. A poke to his shoulder. "What the hell?"
"Don't you think that's a bit of an overreaction?"
Knocking on the door, interrupting. A girl hollers, "Fifteen minutes, Kris, Adam."
"You kissed me!" Kris (Adam's willing that's a safe bet, he knows his own goddamn name at least) is stuck between accusation and plain shock.
"So?" Because really, he doesn't think he's ever known anyone who hugs him like that but is afraid of a friendly kiss.
Kris just stares at him, then tugs him to sit down. "So? I'm married. You don't go for that, remember?" But now he looks more worried than anything.
"Yes." No. And studiously avoiding looking at Kris doesn't seem to be a deterrent.
He asks, "What's going on?"
"I don't know." And then he sees a packet on the table in front of them, leans forward and grabs it. "Shit."
Kris frowns. "What? It's just the script. You complained about it, yeah, the whole scripted interview thing, but I thought you agreed? And stop avoiding the question."
He is pretty impressive, with the glaring and pouting and all. But. Bigger issues. "Okay, you'll think I'm insane but I have no idea who you are or where I am or what the date is or what I'm supposed to go on camera and say in ten minutes, so I'm kind of screwed right now."
Yeah, that was sort of what he was expecting. The hand on his forehead is gentle, checking for fever (he thinks) but Kris is looking at him as if he's considering calling someone.
"Look, don't tell anyone, okay? Even if I am suddenly crazy it's probably not the best idea to have that all over television, right?"
Kris bites at his lip before going and peeking out the door. Adam hears him call distantly down the hall for someone before he turns back around. "Look, why don't you go back to your hotel? I'll come to your room and we'll talk about this, okay?"
He's doing that cautious soothing voice and Adam wants to smack him, not least of all for not seeing how weird it is that they apparently go to each other's rooms all the time. But hey, play nice, and he nods and sneaks out the back stairwell and hopes Kris knows what he's doing.
---