fic: The Second Time: A Romance in Two Parts
Title: The Second Time: A Romance in Two Parts
Rating: R
Word Count: 15,000
Summary: Adam Lambert’s days of tabloid notoriety are behind him if he wants to keep his record contract. To complete his newly reformed image, his management wants him to settle down and get married. Adam refuses to even consider the idea until he meets his prospective husband, Kris Allen.
Notes: Written for the harlequinkradam challenge.
Personally, Adam doesn't think it's that bad. Sure, it's maybe a little embarrassing, but all press is good press, right?
"No. No, no, no." Mark's been repeating himself for what seems like the past forever. He never seems to get bored.
"It's not that bad," he says again.
"Yes, it is that bad. You got caught for the fifth time this month!" Mark's voice is going alarmingly shrill. Adam tilts his head at him. "That's more than once a week!"
Adam says, "So, it's okay so long as it's only once a week."
"No!" Mark yells, and oh good, they're back to this again. "No, no, no."
"I'm pretty sure I don't have time for this," Adam says after another couple of minutes spent waiting for Mark's heart to give out from the strain. "I have to be somewhere." He actually knows he doesn't. Mark had his assistants clear his calendar for this so-called strategy meeting. They'd both done it, too, the little traitors. See if he signed their damn paychecks.
"You have as much time for me as I say you do," Mark snaps. "When your label says jump, you say 'how high?'"
"Yeah, I'm not so much into that physical exercise crap," Adam says.
"Adam!" Mark yells.
"Yes, I get it," Adam says. "Bad dog."
Mark looks at him for a minute. "You should've gotten it a couple months ago."
Adam winces. That particular night had not been his most auspicious. There hadn't even been that much alcohol involved - a couple mixers, some pot, and a little instant gratification. Personally, he thinks a little public sex once in a while does the soul good. The label, however, hadn't agreed. "I've behaved since then!" he says.
"Three months is not long enough to forgive and forget." Mark waves the tabloid around threateningly. "And then you just started up again a month ago," he picks up the warning letter from some of the execs, "and everything led to this."
"We weren't even doing anything," Adam tries.
"That's not what it looks like."
"You're going to get old before your time," Adam tells him. "And it was one friendly little grope."
"Regardless, the label wants it to stop. All of it, everything. You've got a tour coming up, you can't afford to piss off-"
"Anybody, right? The whole damn world must like me. So no drinking, no smoking, no fucking-" Adam stands up.
Mark raises his voice to yell over him. "And to ensure your good behavior and reinforce your good image, you're getting married."
Adam yelps, "What?"
Which is how he finds himself whining to his mother two weeks later. "This can't be legal."
"Is he cute? I expect you to bring him home, you know," she says, which is about as helpful as the time she let him grow his hair all the way to his shoulders before telling him it made him look homeless and ugly.
Chelsea taps the top of his head. "Come on, the driver's here."
"Go away," Adam tells her, waving an arm around to defend himself. She has nails, and she uses them.
"Is that Jessie?" his mom asks. "Put her on." "No!" Adam says to them both, since Chelsea's already making grabby hands. "It's Chelsea. The one you don't like."
Chelsea sticks her tongue out at him. His mom says, "I like both of them. Though I'd still like to know where you got the idea that you're important enough to warrant two personal assistants."
"Thanks, Mom," Adam says wryly.
Finally successful in her bid for the phone, Chelsea says, "Sorry, Mrs. Lambert. Yes, this is Chelsea." She thumps Adam. He pinches her. The studio's receptionist is probably going to try to have them thrown out soon. "He only has two assistants because neither of us could put up with him full-time. We each only have three days a week with him this way."
Adam snorts, loud enough his mother can probably hear it.
Chelsea tugs on his arm, pointing to the door. "Yes, Mrs. Lambert, I promise I'll make him send you pictures and updates," while she rolls her eyes.
Adam shakes his head, but she's already saying goodbye. "We're going to meet him now. Here's hoping it goes well. Talk to you soon."
"You will not be sending her anything," Adam says.
"Nope, but you will." She grins at him. "Come on, this could be fun. A taste of the committed life."
"You really think so?" Adam asks plaintively. "But what if he's ugly?"
"He won't be ugly. Gum? It's for publicity purposes, it has to be believable. Besides, you gave them so many criteria, it's not like whoever found him didn't have guidelines of what you go for."
Adam doubts it. It only took them two weeks to find someone, how good can the guy be? "But what if you're wrong?" he complains.
"Then pray," she advises, blowing a bubble. That's the limit of her sympathy for the day. She drags him into the conference room once the car pulls up to headquarters and then leaves him like her ass is on fire. Adam's the first one there, probably a strategic move on someone's part - this way he won't be able to flee if the guy's awful. He glares resentfully at the door.
There's a loud scuffling noise and the other door - which Adam swears is a closet, what the hell - shuts quickly. There's a tiny, adorable little thing standing in front of it. Adam wants to adopt him immediately, despite the way his face is all scrunched up, glaring unattractively and looking about as happy as Adam's felt about this whole thing.
He says, "That was rude."
Adam says, "Did you just come out of a closet?"
"No," he says. "Are you Adam?" He sounds like he wants to ask the state of Adam's mental health or something.
"Yeah," Adam says. "You are?"
"The ceremonial sacrifice," he says darkly. Adam raises an eyebrow. "I'm Kris," he adds, like that's supposed to explain anything.
"Nice to meet you?" Adam hazards.
"I'm your fiancé," Kris finishes, and then they stare at each other until the managers start piling in.
Adam ignores everything they say, which is basically something along the lines of hey guys, this is Adam, this is Kris, please don’t kill each other, oh look at the time we've got to go. They take Kris off with them when the leave and all in all, Adam thinks it was a pretty painless first meeting.
Chelsea greets him in the lobby going, "Well? Well? Well?"
"His name is Kris," Adam tells her, "and he's adorable."
She squeals obligingly and Mark comes in while they're still scheming.
"I like him," Adam says.
"You do?" Mark asks, concerned. "So you'll cooperate."
"Cooperate?" Adam says. "He could be the bitchiest little thing in the world and I'd still do him."
"Um," Mark says, but Adam's already got his phone out to call his mom.
He doesn't have much to tell her, so they speculate and Adam puts up with what sounds suspiciously like tentative wedding plans. Adam's not sure on the logistics himself - are they engaged and then married? Engaged and then a public break up after the tour? Mark says the official plan hasn't been entirely ironed out, but Chelsea starts getting names and numbers from Mark and then starts planning.
---
"I can't believe you got me moved in with you," Kris says from Adam's couch the next Tuesday morning. "We haven't even technically had our first date yet and we're already living together. Won't this be even worse for your image than everything else?"
"It'll keep things interesting. More importantly," Adam yawns and sprawls next to him, tired. "Why are you here at nine in the morning?"
"Because by this time normal people have begun their day," Kris says. "And I thought I had actual work today, but apparently I was mistaken. These moving people showed up at my house at six thirty and now everything I own is over here."
"Wait," Adam says, waking up a little. "Do you work for the label?"
"Yeah," Kris says.
"Are you on my team?" Adam asks, interested. "Because that makes this whole thing a little immoral."
"A little more so, you mean. And you know what they say about prostitution and the oldest profession," Kris shrugs.
"Oh my god, you are. How have I not met you before?" Adam asks.
"No, I'm not on your team," Kris says. "I'm a sound technician. While I get paid for doing this I'm technically on their payroll as your new personal assistant. So, on paper, you have three. Congratulations."
"So you're on my personal team now," Adam says. "I'm paying you."
"What is it with you and this prostitution thing?" Kris asks.
"It's a kink," Adam admits.
Kris says, "If it's alright by you, I'd like to hold off on things like that and learn the basics first, like your favorite color? We have to get to know each other eventually."
"Favorite color is black," Adam says. He leans closer. "Now, tell me, what's your stance on sex on the first date?"
"Very subtle," Kris says. "No."
"What do you mean, no?" Adam demands.
"It's a negative term, usually meaning stop or don't even think about it," Kris says flatly.
"Sometimes it means yes?" Adam tries.
Kris crosses his arms. "No."
"Okay," Adam tries again. "Then what's your type?"
"Female," Kris says.
"No, seriously," Adam says.
"No, seriously," Kris says.
---
Adam kicks Mark's chair until he hangs up.
"That was important, you know," Mark says.
"This is important," Adam informs him. "You got me engaged to a straight guy."
"So?" Mark says. "It's not like you're actually going to sleep with him."
"I was going to try," Adam says peevishly, and leaves when Mark starts laughing.
Jessie's only a little more helpful.
"They engaged me to a straight guy!" Adam wails. "They match all the other criteria and they miss that?"
"Did you actually specify it?" Jessie asks, bored and tapping away on her phone.
"I figured it went without saying," Adam says.
"I guess they thought it wasn't important, since he's not getting paid to actually sleep with you."
"He should be," Adam mutters unhappily. "It's one of the basic roles of the spouse. Ask anyone."
"Stop bitching," Jessie sighs.
"I like Chelsea more than you," Adam informs her. He really wishes Chelsea were here. She'd be appropriately sympathetic. She might even mean it.
Jessie gives him the finger. "Seriously, Adam. Get out of the goddamn car and go in to your fucking house. I don't want to sit out here all night."
"But he's there!" Adam says. He's been there all day, by himself. Probably went digging through all of Adam's personal belongings and everything.
"By your brilliant design," Jessie points out. "I still can't believe Chelsea let you do it. Now go."
And Adam respects his PAs enough to know when to listen, and this is absolutely one of the times, so he goes. He's just not happy about it.
Kris looks like he hasn't moved from the couch.
"How are you?" Adam asks suspiciously.
"Bored," Kris says. "Can I go home now?"
"No," Adam says stubbornly.
"Okay," Kris shrugs. "Whatever. Can you tell me where my room is?"
"Um," Adam says.
"I do have a room, right?" Kris says.
"I didn't think you'd be straight!" Adam thinks this is a perfectly suitable justification. He's not even sure any of the spare beds have sheets.
"But obviously you thought I'd be easy," Kris says, pissed.
"Don't take it personally?" Adam suggests weakly.
"I'm going to a hotel," Kris says.
Adam snarls at the front door when it shuts. There's probably an expense account all this is being billed to, and he probably reimburses it. Not fair.
---
They meet the next day to discuss their back story or something. Adam's not interested until he's had coffee, and he's busy staring at the door, willing Chelsea to appear faster.
"So how are you two kids getting along?" Mark asks cheerfully.
Adam gives his best playing-nice expression. "Great."
"Awesome," Kris adds, in the worst display of lying talent Adam's ever seen. If their respective chairs were closer together he'd kick him.
Mark looks pained. "What's wrong?"
The two creative directors, or whatever they're called, shift in their seats. Mark said they're the ones who'll come up with the Kris-and-Adam crap they'll have to parrot.
"He's boring and repressed," Adam says.
"He's a stuck-up slut," Kris says.
"Hey, maybe they're both right," Chelsea says brightly, laughing. Adam worships her anyway, because she brought his coffee. "And it seems like they're on even ground."
Adam makes a face at her. Kris fidgets uncomfortably, like he's unsure what to do. Adam would feel sorry for him if he didn't hate him so much.
"Look, I think we need to work through this," the lady Adam's never met before says. "You've obviously gotten off on the wrong foot. Let's just talk about it."
"Yes," the man Adam's never met before agrees. "We just need some communication. Adam, why do you say Kris is boring and repressed?"
"Because he sat on a couch all day and did nothing. He's also very rude." Chelsea snorts. Adam ignores her.
"And Kris, what problems have you had with Adam?"
"He called me a prostitute-"
"I did not. And it was a joke," Adam says.
"He moved me into his house-"
"It seemed logical-" Kris glares at him and Adam shuts up.
"And he assumed I'd sleep with him."
Adam doesn't have anything to say to that one.
"Adam," Mark says, very disapproving.
"And I'm actually only here right now to tell you that I quit. Thanks for the opportunity," Kris smiles, and then the little bastard actually walks out on them all.
Chelsea smacks the back of his head. "Did you have to be such a dick? Normally, you're so charming."
"It was all mostly an accident," Adam says. "He's just overly sensitive."
Mark glowers at him while the two people catch Kris and presumably talk him back into it, since he comes back a few minutes later, looking reluctant.
"We think you should both apologize and try to start over," the guy says.
"What are you, a relationship coach?" Kris asks.
Adam snorts in agreement.
"Try," the guy insists. "Begin something with good intentions and everything will be better."
Privately, because he has some tact, Adam thinks he sounds like a fortune cookie.
"Sounds good," Kris says. "Adam can go first."
Adam rolls his eyes. "I'm sorry I offended your archaic beliefs and I apologize for thinking you'd have a sense of humor."
"And I'm sorry for openly revealing what a bastard you are," Kris says sweetly.
Adam is totally up for this, but before he can open his mouth Mark slaps his hands onto his desk. "It would do you both well to remember you need each other." He glares around, and Adam's surprised to see Kris duck his head, too. "Now, the label rep will be here in twenty minutes. I suggest we let Beth and Evan explain how you two are going to convince everyone in the world that you're madly in love."
It actually goes well, which Chelsea attributes to Adam swallowing his pride and listening. Kris doesn't put up a fight at all, nodding in the appropriate places and even chiming in when necessary. Adam probably would've cooperated, too, but between Chelsea and Mark they know his day to day life and history well enough that it wouldn't have mattered if he hadn't been there at all. The label rep leaves happy, half-convinced herself that they really were involved.
The plan is to let the paparazzi find out as if it were a secret, and then to slowly leak details like some of Kris' old work records as an employee of the studio, which should be scandalous enough to keep anyone happy. They'll ignore it for a week or so after that, and then Adam and Kris are going to make a public announcement of their engagement. Adam puts in a vote that he should do the announcement himself, on the basis of Kris being a horrible liar, but that gets Kris up in arms about why, exactly, does Adam think he knows how good a liar Kris is, he's only known him for how many days, and Adam yells back about how it's his own damn reputation, thanks a lot, stay the fuck out of it, and Mark threatens to separate them like unruly three year olds.
From there they'll do interviews - most of which will be Adam or Adam-and-Kris, since everyone's pretty willing to bet nobody's going to want just the new, unknown boy toy, and even Kris seems relieved about that. They're still forcing him into all sorts of public communication coaching and everything, which makes Adam extremely pleased. He hopes Kris hates it as much as he did.
And finally, it turns out they don't have to get married. They're going to slowly grow apart over tour and split once it's over, or possibly right before the very end for an extra burst of publicity, the team hasn't decided yet. All in all, it's going to be a whirlwind romance that nobody will remember in a year.
The only flaw, it seems, is Kris' stance on photographical proof.
"I am not making out with him in public. Non-negotiable," Kris says again.
"It's just a little kissing. Grow up," Adam says, sighing.
"I'm worried you'll attack me," Kris tells. "You know, give an inch."
"Whatever," Adam says. "I promise not to jump you. Does that ease your fear of surprise gay sex?"
"I'm not worried about the sex," Kris says. "I'm worried about the STDs."
"Jesus, they are bad," Mark tells Chelsea.
"I know, right? It makes me want to get popcorn, even if just to make a point." She blows a bubble for emphasis.
"We can hear you, you know," Adam says.
Beth steps forward, trying to regain control. Apparently, she's the head of Adam's publicity team. He thinks he should've known who she was, except he's never listened to her or solicited her advice, so it's not all that surprising he didn't.
"Kris, you have to understand. Adam, being who he is, it wouldn’t be believable if there weren't some pictures," she says. "What about a few carefully planned ones, right at the beginning, and-"
"No, never happening," Kris says. "Sorry. It can be Adam turning over a new leaf or anything. Maybe he can abstain from all public contact in order to prove how different this relationship is or something."
"You're an evil little bitch," Adam says, and he totally means it, because of course the publicists love that idea.
Kris looks pleased with himself.
---
They ride home together in Kris' car. Chelsea took Adam's ride, said that since Kris drove himself Adam should go with him back to their house.
"My house," Adam said.
"I live there now, too," Kris said. "Ours."
So Adam's stuck in the passenger seat of the ugliest car he's ever seen.
"I practically built it myself, thanks," Kris says, insulted.
Adam stares at him. "How many years of your life did you waste doing that?"
"A couple months. One summer!" Kris says defensively.
"Right," Adam snorts. "And how many months before it worked?"
"A couple more, maybe," Kris says, smiling reluctantly.
Adam does not think this is cute, so he puts his sunglasses on to avoid giving Kris the wrong impression.
They're quiet for a long time, stuck in rush hour traffic in LA, which is only worse than regular traffic in that it takes four hours to get anywhere rather than three. Adam watches the people in the cars around them: it's fun to do, see who's arguing on their cell phones, doing make up, or even sometimes changing clothes, which is always the best.
Finally Kris clears his throat and says, "So, are we actually going to fight for the next six months?"
"Oh god," Adam says, "You're one of those people that can't stand to have anyone mad at them, aren't you?"
"No!" Kris says. "I just like a little civility, that's all."
Adam doesn't believe him. Still, he magnanimously says, "Truce, then. I won't be a bitch if you aren't." "I've never been a bitch in my life," Kris mutters, then raises his hands in surrender. "Alright, deal."
Of course, then neither of them has any clue what to say, so Adam hazards, "Where are you from?" Anyone could guess he's not native.
"The south," Kris says.
"Yeah, I figured," Adam rolls his eyes. "Where?"
Kris winces. "Arkansas."
"Oh my god," Adam says, horrified.
"See? See!" Kris cries. "This is why I don’t tell people. You wouldn't believe how many jokes I've heard, and nobody ever takes me seriously once they know. It's not my fault where I was born!"
"Defensive much?" Adam asks. "I wasn't going to say anything." He totally was.
Kris makes a disbelieving noise.
"I wasn't! I get jokes, too. Anyone who actually grew up in California gets looks. It's a place you're supposed to come to, not from. Nobody ever believes me," Adam insists.
Kris says, "I would."
"What does that mean?" Adam asks, outraged.
"Nothing," Kris says, laughing. "I swear."
"So," Adam rolls the idea around for a while, letting the sentence hang. He's never been congratulated for making good decisions, but in for a penny and all. "Since we're dating, want to go on a date?"
Kris looks over at him, probably trying to decide if he's trustworthy. Adam's tense, more worried about rejection than he's been in years. It's a distinctly unpleasant feeling.
"Okay," Kris says finally. "Where?"
Adam's surprised. "I wasn't expecting you to agree!" he says.
"Fine," Kris says easily. "I can retract it."
"No, no," Adam says, waving his hands around. "I just don't have any ideas. You weren't supposed to agree!" he repeats.
"What do you normally do for fun?" Kris asks.
"Well," Adam says.
"Oh, wait, I remember," Kris laughs. Adam scowls at him. "I guess it's not a group activity, huh?"
"Maybe not where you come from," Adam says, because he can't resist.
"Sure it is," Kris rolls his eyes. "Just so long as it stays in the family."
Adam laughs despite himself. When he shakes his head and gives up trying to find an answer Kris looks triumphant. "That's so horrible," he finally says.
"It's what people honestly think, I swear," Kris says. "Or at least they make cracks about it enough that it might as well be. I've always wondered how blondes put up with it."
"I don't know," Adam says. "Ask Chelsea. She probably gets it all the time."
Kris gets a funny expression and Adam waits, counting in his head. "Come on, everyone gets to it. Say it."
"It's just," Kris says slowly, "Chelsea seems very sweet, and I guess she's good at her job, right? But she sort of acts like California girls are supposed to, and-"
"That's the first thing Jessie said to her," Adam says happily. "Of course, Jessie's practically a genius, so she phrased it a bit better."
"Don't they hate each other?" Kris asks, fascinated.
"Nope," Adam grins. "Best friends. I think Chelsea's response was something like I know, right? And Jessie decided she liked her and that was that." He shakes his. "Don't let it fool you, though. It just means they're both evil."
"They don't always give you your way?" Kris asks sympathetically.
"No," Adam says mournfully, and Kris laughs at him.
The traffic opens up a little, finally, and they're home in fifteen minutes. Adam lets Kris wander around, poking into corners and messing with his sound system while he orders takeout. Kris doesn't venture upstairs, which is disappointing, but Adam figures he can work with it.
"Was it okay, getting a room last night?" Adam asks offhandedly.
Kris looks up from his perusal of Adam's music collection. He seems to think it's both too small and too limited. Adam's been biting back comments about snobbery for about five minutes. "Yeah," Kris says. "Plenty of hotels in LA."
"Do you still have your stuff there?"
"Nope," Kris says. "Management said I have to move in here."
"Good," Adam says, pleased. Kris rolls his eyes.
When the food comes Adam tries to draw Kris away, put in a movie, but he slaps Adam's hands away from the controls and keeps deriding Adam's taste in music.
Exasperated, Adam asks, "Okay, what do you like, then?"
Kris gets shifty. "Oh, I don't know," he says evasively, and then, "What movie did you want to watch?"
Adam's curious but Kris actually looks embarrassed, and besides, he's not sure his ego can take any more hits today, so he lets it go. Kris gives the movie five minutes before Adam gets a rant on his movie taste, too, like what, are all his preferences in popular culture crap? That segues into modern culture in general, at which point Adam gives up and just sits back to listen.
Afterwards, Adam convinces Kris that it's okay to throw the leftovers away and then says, "I have a surprise for you!"
"Please, no," Kris says.
"What?" Adam asks, affronted.
"Is this going to involve anything embarrassing for one of us?" Kris asks cautiously.
"No," Adam says.
"Okay," Kris says. "Proceed."
"You're very strange," Adam informs him. "Anyway, follow me."
He actually doesn't know which room Kris gets, since Jessie did it today while they were both out. Adam hopes she hadn't chosen a completely crap decorating scheme - his designer would kill him. So it looks a little ridiculous as they go down the hall, nudging open all four guest bedroom doors until he gets to the last one. It's the one furthest from his bedroom, a very good precaution, and it's also, Adam sees, the only other one with it's own in-suite bathroom. That was probably part of the decision, too. The bed set Jessie bought - to replace the ridiculously gorgeous, terribly uncomfortable bedspread the designer had chosen for all the rooms - is a pretty neutral navy blue, but Adam runs his hand over it and it's ridiculously high thread count and the softest thing he's ever felt. He suspects it may even be nicer than his, and he almost wishes he could've come up here and stolen it before telling Kris it was his.
"Oh," Kris says slowly. "My room?"
"Yeah," Adam says. "You like?"
"Yeah," Kris says, looking surprised about it. "It's cool."
It is pretty cool. It's not to Adam's taste, really, but Jessie did a good job making it look like a classy bachelor's room. There's some art deco stuff scattered in a couple of corners and the heavy, fancy furniture has been mostly replaced with modern, comfortable substitutes. It looks very much like Kris, surprisingly, though Adam realizes he may not be the best judge. He probably owes Jessie a raise now.
"Thank you," Kris says softly, touching the bed hesitantly. "It's - thanks."
Adam shrugs. "Jessie did it. She's amazing, like Chelsea. You can get her a soy latte or something if you want to thank her." He stands around awkwardly for another minute, but Kris is still looking around curiously so he goes to hide in his bedroom to avoid having to help carry boxes up.
---
Evan, who is Beth's second-in-command or something, tells Kris at the end of the week that he and Adam have a date arranged for that night. Kris gets to pass it on.
"Aw, I didn't even know you liked me that way," Adam says.
Kris looks like it takes effort not to roll his eyes. "We have to go to this restaurant at this time and stay for however long. Should be boring."
"Thanks for your high opinions of my company," Adam says. "Do you actually know what restaurant at what time for how long, or are we going to guess?"
"Yes," Kris says, "I wrote it down. I just have to find the piece of paper."
Which is how they end up two hours late for their reservation. Adam volunteers to help Kris find it, mostly because he knows it'll give him a chance to be nosy, and while Kris goes digging around his room - his very messy room, oh my god, do you ever clean? You've only been here a couple of days, Adam says - Adam roots through piles of crap and unpacked boxes and drawers to see what he can learn about his new fiancé.
"I don't think it's in there," Kris says wryly.
Adam doesn't stop digging through the drawer. "You'd be surprised how much you can learn about a person from their underwear. Oh, what's this?"
He pulls out a letter addressed to Kristopher Allen. It's well-worn and probably a couple of years old, and very personal, judging from the way Kris yanks it out of his hands and snaps, "Nothing, and stay out of my crap."
Adam chooses to try to keep their fragile peace, so he says mildly, "See what you can learn? I just found out your real name is Kristopher. That's so precious."
"Shut up," Kris says darkly. He's blushing. "It's from an old girlfriend."
Debating what to go through next, Adam's vaguely irritated when Kris says, "Here it is!" and holds out a paper that's been folded into roughly the size of a ping-pong ball.
"Jeez," Adam says, while he takes five minutes to unfold the stupid thing.
"I squashed it into my pocket," Kris explains.
Adam's not sure how it got from his pocket to the back of the bathroom cabinet, but there are some things even he knows better than to ask. Instead he hums noncommittally until he sees the info Kris was given and then he practically shrieks. "Our reservation time's in fifteen minutes!"
"Okay?" Kris says.
"The restaurant, Kris," Adam explains. "Is about forty-five minutes away and requires formal attire, so we both have to change. Furthermore, we'll have to call a car, because I don't own one and I'm pretty sure they won't let yours on the block. No offence," he adds.
"None taken," Kris says wryly.
Adam gets on his phone for a driver while he tries to pick out clothes and give Kris instructions on what, exactly, constitutes formal attire and yes, Kris, fake leather shoes will do but brown ones will not, especially with black pants, are you color blind? They're out of the house in about twenty minutes, which Adam knows is a personal record; he also knows he probably looks terrible. Kris doesn't even look harried.
Then the traffic sucks, like usual, except there's an accident, like usual, and then the lights are out on one of the streets, which isn't all that usual, and they're not at the restaurant until 9 o'clock and the maitre 'd is not, to put it lightly, very pleased to let them have a table. Fortunately, Adam's very good at getting what he wants, and they sit down very late, very hungry, and, in Kris' case, very appalled at Adam's negotiation skills.
"Seriously," Kris says. "You might've tried saying please."
Adam doesn't even glance up from the menu.
"Or even," Kris continues. "Explaining why we were late, apologizing, and asking when the next open slot was."
"Believe me," Adam says, still trying to decide whether the menu's really in French or some vague imitation that's deliberately been made more difficult to read, "my management would have killed me if I missed this. Probably you, too."
Their waiter shows up, of course, right when Adam has just successfully narrowed it down to two choices, so he makes Kris go first in order to buy time. Kris hasn't even looked at the menu, actually, so Adam's a little interested to see how he orders food when he doesn't know what the restaurant serves.
He says, "Steak, medium rare. And water, please."
Adam gapes at him when the waiter's left. "I didn't see steak on the menu anywhere!"
"And you speak French?" Kris asks politely.
"No," Adam admits. "But I try."
"Any vaguely fancy, non-vegetarian-only restaurant in LA serves steak. Order it like you know what you're doing and you'll get something basically edible," Adam's still making a face so Kris shrugs. "First thing I had to learn to survive in LA. Otherwise I would've starved during business dinners."
"That's brilliant," Adam says. "Think there's any vegetarian equivalent?"
Kris shrugs helplessly and Adam deflates. Kris suggests, "Maybe you can find one?" like he doesn't want Adam to lose hope. "I just don't end up at many vegetarian restaurants."
"That’s pretty impressive, living here," Adam says.
They find out the next day that nobody so much as noticed they were there. Adam holds that this is not their fault - how damn hard can it be for the paparazzi to be waiting where they're supposed to be waiting?
"You were two hours late," Mark says.
Adam snorts. "Come on. These are the same breed of creatures that climb trees and break into houses, right? How could be late deter them?"
Mark sighs and gives up. "Just show up on time tomorrow, all right?"
"Maybe," Adam says. "Where are we going tomorrow?"
They're going to another restaurant. Kris makes faces at this one, since it's vegetarian, and Adam sympathizes and suggests they go somewhere else. The driver ends up weighing in when they can't decide and by the time they eat - "I'm starving. I can hear my stomach with my ears plugged," Kris whines - they're halfway across town and have completely forgotten about the publicity.
"This time you didn't even show up," Mark yells the next morning.
Kris is with Adam for this one - Mark seems to have given up on intimidating Adam and gone after the weaker of them. It's almost working, too, because Kris keeps cringing when Mark points at him.
"And not only that, but instead of leaking the story of your engagement you managed to spread more rumors about sleeping around," Mark says.
Kris looks at Adam. "Do you have a twin?"
"I wish," Adam says, depressed. "We drove around all night, I swear!" He says to Mark's scowl. "Kris and the driver can vouch for me, Jesus. And besides," he adds as an afterthought. "I'm engaged. I would never cheat."
"Okay," Mark says determinedly. "We're telling Beth to find you guys somewhere you'll have to be recognized. And Jessie's going to arrange your ride this time."
He kicks them out.
"Wow," Kris says. "Do you always get treated like a child?"
"Yep," Adam says cheerfully. "Kind of fun, huh?"
"No," Kris says evenly. "Not for those of us who aren't contrary, stubborn people."
"You totally thought it was fun," Adam says. "Do you want to get coffee?"
"I can't," Kris says. "I have to get back to work."
"Wait," Adam says, "You work here?" He makes a face as soon as he asks. Of course Kris works here, he said he's a sound tech. "Can I come with?"
"No," Kris says immediately. "I mean it. No way."
"Why not?" Adam asks. He is not afraid to whine.
"You'll get in the way," Kris says. "Don't start, you will, too."
"Are you even working with anyone today, or are you just mastering?" Adam asks curiously. "Usually you can tell if there's too many artists here, there's more people running around."
"No, not with anyone today," Kris voice gets a little high. He's looking shifty again, and the elevator's just opened to go up. Adam has to go down.
"So what do you actually do? What part of it?" Adam prods.
"Nothing!" Kris says.
"Kris," Adam says.
"Seriously," Kris says, and shuts the elevator doors in Adam's face.
"Oh, no," Adam says.
He is absolutely not above using his power, looks, and charm to get what he wants. He's also not above just asking Mark, "What studio is Kris in?"
Mark writes it on a piece of paper and holds it up, busy on the phone, so Adam gives him thumbs up and hightails it to the third floor. There he hits a bit of a roadblock, because the sixty million year old receptionist will not unlock the doors for him.
"I'm just visiting!" Adam tries.
"I don't think so," she gives a little sniff and glares down her nose at him.
"Do you know who I am?" He throws out desperately.
"Don't know, don't care. I like these guys a lot more than I do your type, and you're not getting back there to bug them without their invitation, first," she nods with an air of finality.
"My type?" Adam asks skeptically.
"Famous people," she says dismissively. "All high and mighty and sticking their noses where they're not needed. Like they need your help with any of your music they're fixing."
Adam decides to switch tactics, shrugging. "Fine, I understand. Could I leave a message for one of them?"
She peers at him suspiciously. "What's their name, yours, and the message?"
Adam tries really hard not to laugh. He'd bet anything that she has no intention of passing it on. "It's for Kris Allen," he says, leaning forward conspiratorially, "and please just tell him that I will catch him one of these days."
She nods, haughty and not even pretending to write it down. "And you are?"
Adam smiles, nice and wide. "His fiancé," he says, and turns to go.
"Oh, oh, honey, wait there," she says, much friendlier. He turns back around. "Are you here to listen in?"
Cautiously, Adam says, "I'm here to do anything I can get away with."
She smiles conspiratorially. "Yes, Kris is very stubborn about letting people listen to his songs. I cannot believe he won't even let his fiancé listen. Stupid, shy boy. Come back here, I can sneak you in the corner."
Adam smiles. "Thank you so much. You're amazing."
"Uh huh," she says, "Now sit still and don't make a peep. They can hear you as well as you can hear them. And grab a card from my desk on your way out. If you ever need help wrangling him don't hesitate to give me a call."
She leaves to resume her surly guardian position and Adam drags a chair next to the designated door and preens. He's maybe half asleep by the time noise starts leaking from under the door. He doesn't notice it at first; it starts off with a slow guitar melody and drags in a couple of piano parts. The drums only hit halfway through, and that's when he actually sits up and listens, because it's good. He wants to hum along to parts of it, and normally he's not interested in instrumentals unless they're his own in-progress works but he wants to know who the artist is for this one, who they are and why he's never heard them before.
There's a couple more and Adam practically presses his ear to the door to listen. They're still heavily unfinished, levels unbalanced and some timing off here and there, but he doesn't think he's too wrong in guessing they'll be as good as the first ones when they're done. It's just way to early for them to be in production - they need a couple more run-throughs before they're ready. He waits just long enough after the last one to make sure there's not another one queued up before he barges on in.
Kris jumps, spinning around in his chair and yelping. Adam winces in sympathy; he knows from experience that the headphones hurt like a bitch when they're yanked off like that.
"Sorry," he says brightly. "I felt like visiting."
Surprise is chased by anger, and boy, is Kris pissed. Adam's taken aback; he's pretty sure Kris wasn't even this angry when they'd been bitching at each other. "Get out," Kris says flatly.
"No," Adam says.
Kris stands up and flails at him, but a door across the hall opens and a girl who just screams intern pops her head in. "Everything okay?"
"Yep," Adam says. "Everything's amazing."
She blushes at him. "You're - is Kris working on your songs?"
"Nope," Adam says. "I should be so lucky."
"Oh, um," she says, confused like she thinks Adam's being sarcastic.
"We're engaged," Adam shares cheerfully, because it seems to be getting him everything else today.
Kris makes a strangled noise and the girl gets excited, bouncing up onto her toes and saying, "Oh, wow. Congratulations, I mean, I didn't even know Kris was dating-"
"Thanks, Jen," Kris says tightly, herding her out the door. Adam winks at her before he shuts it.
"How did you even get back here?" Kris asks, unhappy.
"I'm your fiancé," Adam says dismissively. "Nobody would dream of keeping us apart."
"See, this? This is why you're a terror. You use absolutely anything to your advantage," Kris says.
"Always," Adam says remorselessly. "By the way, you aren't a sound tech."
"Yes, I am," Kris says.
"No, you're not."
"I know my own title," Kris snaps.
"And I know music," Adam says stubbornly. "Those songs aren't anywhere near ready for production, you don't even have any vocal tracks, for fuck's sake, and no way will I believe they're all instrumentals."
Kris gets pale. "You're wrong."
"You're a writer!" Adam finishes.
"Please, shut up, Adam, please," Kris says.
"What?" Adam asks, "What's wrong?"
"I'm just a ghostwriter," Kris says. "But you're not supposed to know."
"What?" Adam repeats blankly.
"I write songs and credit them to other people," Kris says reluctantly. "I'm not an actual songwriter."
"I know what a ghostwriter is," Adam says. "Why the fuck aren't I supposed to know?" Kris looks away, fidgeting. Adam grabs his shoulder, shaking him gently. "Come on, Kris."
Kris sighs. "Mark said you'd be pissed. I'm not getting paid extra for doing this with you. But in exchange, when it's over I get-" he trails off, waving his hand around in explanation.
"You get to be a credited writer," Adam fills in.
"Yeah," Kris says.
Adam steps back. "That's bullshit."
---
Mark is not happy to see him back again. "Haven't you left yet?"
"I am about thirty seconds away from firing your ass," Adam says calmly.
Mark stares at him for a second and then apparently decides to take him seriously, because he sits up and focuses on Adam in a way that's only happened a couple of times before. "What's wrong?"
"Explain to me," Adam sits back in a chair, cocking his head at Mark, "just what, exactly, Kris' job is and what deal this studio made with him in exchange for doing this."
Mark blinks, as obvious admission as Adam's going to get. He says, "Kris is a sound technician. And he'll be promoted in exchange for helping you. It's an extension of his role as an employee of this label and of you, its client."
Adam snarls. "Kris is a writer who's not getting credit or paid for his music. How many others do you use like that?"
"I promise you, Adam, Kris knew exactly what his job entailed when we hired him. He was aware that it included some creative duties," Mark holds up a hand when Adam opens his mouth to yell some more. "Every studio does it. This is LA, Adam. Not everyone who can write can sell."
Taking a deep breath, Adam says, "Fine. But I'm changing the terms. When he's done with this, he gets signed to record one real album."
Mark says, "Adam, that's not-"
"Or we'll be going to a studio that will," Adam says, smiling.
Mark pauses for a moment, considering. He doesn't say anything for a long time and Adam asks, "Well?"
"Did you ever consider," Mark says carefully, "that maybe Kris doesn't want to record his own album."
Adam doesn't hesitate. "Then that's up to him, isn't it?"
Finally, Mark nods reluctantly. Adam waves and leaves, wondering what the backlash for this will be.
Jessie calls Adam late that afternoon. "Did you really threaten to leave the label?"
"Yep," Adam says, digging through the pantry. He needs more groceries soon.
"Mark can't have been happy." She sounds interested in the idea.
"Nope," Adam says. He gives up on his search and goes to flip channels instead. It's sort of weirdly quiet without Kris back yet.
"So Kris wants to record an album?" She asks.
"Don't know yet," and when she makes a questioning noise he says, "He doesn't get credit for his own music right now, and they said he could be credited if he does this, I said they had to sign him instead. That's basically it. Except would you call around, look for someone to sit in with Kris during his meeting?"
"Yeah. That sounds cool," she says. "I'm glad you decided you liked him."
"He's okay," Adam says, grinning. She hangs up on him.
Kris slams the door when he comes home.
"Hello!" Adam calls.
There's no answer, and Adam hears him go up the stairs. Confused, he sits for a moment, but when Kris doesn't come back down he has to go up instead. He finds him packing, which throws him a little. "What are you doing?"
"What does it look like?" Kris asks shortly. "This whole thing was a bad plan."
"Why?" Adam draws it out.
"You know," Kris stops, dropping a bag on the bed and turning around the glare at Adam. "I came out here and took crap sound jobs so I could make my own music. And I'm almost there, I really am, and one day some executive's admin comes in, tells me I'm cute, and asks me how good an actor I am. And I end up here. And I actually liked you, despite all first impressions."
"Okay?" Adam says. "What happened, did they do something? I warned Mark-"
"Do something?" Kris repeats. "I got a message right after you left that said I had to pack my stuff and take it out, and I have a meeting with one of the VPs or something tomorrow morning. HR is sitting in, too, which would've been the biggest hint that I'm going to be fired, except the note also said that the meeting was to reevaluate my status within the corporation."
Adam frowns. "That's not right."
"Oh, really? Where did you mean to put me? I mean, you could've just taken me away from writing if you really hated my music that much. Or you could've said something to me, or kept it to yourself and not ruined all my chances."
"Hey!" Adam says, indignant. "I didn't tell them to-"
"To fire me?" Kris snorts. "No, you probably just complained to Mark and they took it one step too far. They're good at that. But thanks so fucking much for-"
"Shut up!" Adam yells over him. He laughs a little. "I threatened to fire them if they kept taking advantage of you like that. The meeting's to sign you."
Kris stares at him, mouth open.
"You know, so you can record an album?" Adam says.
Kris continues to gape.
Getting worried, Adam says, "But Mark said that maybe you didn't want to, and if you don't you don't have to, it's just an option, because me, I would want-"
"I do!" Kris says, high and frantic. He stops, embarrassed. "I do."
"Okay," Adam says.
"I - Thank you," Kris says. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," Adam says, grinning. "Though you're totally topping the list of most ungrateful people I've ever met. I don't think I've been yelled at like that since middle school. You have got talent at guilt tripping."
Kris flushes all the way down his neck. Adam watches interestedly. "Sorry," Kris says. "But thank you. I mean, I'm really sorry, I just - thank you."
Adam says, "If you don't stop being so polite I'm going to have to kiss you." Kris looks torn between manners and awestruck gratitude. Adam watches, amused, until he realizes Kris isn't going to make up his mind any time soon. Then he watches a little bit longer before taking pity on him. "You're going to have to call and tell them you can't make the meeting, though."
"What?" Kris asks, alarmed. "Of course I can."
"No, you can't," Adam corrects him. "Believe me, you do not want to start your career by letting them think you're a doormat. And besides, you need someone to come in who represents your best interests, and I can't go tomorrow morning."
"I don't think you should be there," Kris says. "I mean, I get what you mean, but I want to deal with it myself, or with whoever. You're way more important than I am, and if you're there it'll be weird."
"That almost made sense," Adam says. "But fine, I won't come. And Jessie will help you get a lawyer or somebody, and she'd be good to have there, too. She's good at arguing."
"Okay," Kris says, dazed. "Thank you."
Adam smiles. "Anything for my-"
"You say fiancé and you won't be getting a ring," Kris warns.
Part Two
Rating: R
Word Count: 15,000
Summary: Adam Lambert’s days of tabloid notoriety are behind him if he wants to keep his record contract. To complete his newly reformed image, his management wants him to settle down and get married. Adam refuses to even consider the idea until he meets his prospective husband, Kris Allen.
Notes: Written for the harlequinkradam challenge.
Personally, Adam doesn't think it's that bad. Sure, it's maybe a little embarrassing, but all press is good press, right?
"No. No, no, no." Mark's been repeating himself for what seems like the past forever. He never seems to get bored.
"It's not that bad," he says again.
"Yes, it is that bad. You got caught for the fifth time this month!" Mark's voice is going alarmingly shrill. Adam tilts his head at him. "That's more than once a week!"
Adam says, "So, it's okay so long as it's only once a week."
"No!" Mark yells, and oh good, they're back to this again. "No, no, no."
"I'm pretty sure I don't have time for this," Adam says after another couple of minutes spent waiting for Mark's heart to give out from the strain. "I have to be somewhere." He actually knows he doesn't. Mark had his assistants clear his calendar for this so-called strategy meeting. They'd both done it, too, the little traitors. See if he signed their damn paychecks.
"You have as much time for me as I say you do," Mark snaps. "When your label says jump, you say 'how high?'"
"Yeah, I'm not so much into that physical exercise crap," Adam says.
"Adam!" Mark yells.
"Yes, I get it," Adam says. "Bad dog."
Mark looks at him for a minute. "You should've gotten it a couple months ago."
Adam winces. That particular night had not been his most auspicious. There hadn't even been that much alcohol involved - a couple mixers, some pot, and a little instant gratification. Personally, he thinks a little public sex once in a while does the soul good. The label, however, hadn't agreed. "I've behaved since then!" he says.
"Three months is not long enough to forgive and forget." Mark waves the tabloid around threateningly. "And then you just started up again a month ago," he picks up the warning letter from some of the execs, "and everything led to this."
"We weren't even doing anything," Adam tries.
"That's not what it looks like."
"You're going to get old before your time," Adam tells him. "And it was one friendly little grope."
"Regardless, the label wants it to stop. All of it, everything. You've got a tour coming up, you can't afford to piss off-"
"Anybody, right? The whole damn world must like me. So no drinking, no smoking, no fucking-" Adam stands up.
Mark raises his voice to yell over him. "And to ensure your good behavior and reinforce your good image, you're getting married."
Adam yelps, "What?"
Which is how he finds himself whining to his mother two weeks later. "This can't be legal."
"Is he cute? I expect you to bring him home, you know," she says, which is about as helpful as the time she let him grow his hair all the way to his shoulders before telling him it made him look homeless and ugly.
Chelsea taps the top of his head. "Come on, the driver's here."
"Go away," Adam tells her, waving an arm around to defend himself. She has nails, and she uses them.
"Is that Jessie?" his mom asks. "Put her on." "No!" Adam says to them both, since Chelsea's already making grabby hands. "It's Chelsea. The one you don't like."
Chelsea sticks her tongue out at him. His mom says, "I like both of them. Though I'd still like to know where you got the idea that you're important enough to warrant two personal assistants."
"Thanks, Mom," Adam says wryly.
Finally successful in her bid for the phone, Chelsea says, "Sorry, Mrs. Lambert. Yes, this is Chelsea." She thumps Adam. He pinches her. The studio's receptionist is probably going to try to have them thrown out soon. "He only has two assistants because neither of us could put up with him full-time. We each only have three days a week with him this way."
Adam snorts, loud enough his mother can probably hear it.
Chelsea tugs on his arm, pointing to the door. "Yes, Mrs. Lambert, I promise I'll make him send you pictures and updates," while she rolls her eyes.
Adam shakes his head, but she's already saying goodbye. "We're going to meet him now. Here's hoping it goes well. Talk to you soon."
"You will not be sending her anything," Adam says.
"Nope, but you will." She grins at him. "Come on, this could be fun. A taste of the committed life."
"You really think so?" Adam asks plaintively. "But what if he's ugly?"
"He won't be ugly. Gum? It's for publicity purposes, it has to be believable. Besides, you gave them so many criteria, it's not like whoever found him didn't have guidelines of what you go for."
Adam doubts it. It only took them two weeks to find someone, how good can the guy be? "But what if you're wrong?" he complains.
"Then pray," she advises, blowing a bubble. That's the limit of her sympathy for the day. She drags him into the conference room once the car pulls up to headquarters and then leaves him like her ass is on fire. Adam's the first one there, probably a strategic move on someone's part - this way he won't be able to flee if the guy's awful. He glares resentfully at the door.
There's a loud scuffling noise and the other door - which Adam swears is a closet, what the hell - shuts quickly. There's a tiny, adorable little thing standing in front of it. Adam wants to adopt him immediately, despite the way his face is all scrunched up, glaring unattractively and looking about as happy as Adam's felt about this whole thing.
He says, "That was rude."
Adam says, "Did you just come out of a closet?"
"No," he says. "Are you Adam?" He sounds like he wants to ask the state of Adam's mental health or something.
"Yeah," Adam says. "You are?"
"The ceremonial sacrifice," he says darkly. Adam raises an eyebrow. "I'm Kris," he adds, like that's supposed to explain anything.
"Nice to meet you?" Adam hazards.
"I'm your fiancé," Kris finishes, and then they stare at each other until the managers start piling in.
Adam ignores everything they say, which is basically something along the lines of hey guys, this is Adam, this is Kris, please don’t kill each other, oh look at the time we've got to go. They take Kris off with them when the leave and all in all, Adam thinks it was a pretty painless first meeting.
Chelsea greets him in the lobby going, "Well? Well? Well?"
"His name is Kris," Adam tells her, "and he's adorable."
She squeals obligingly and Mark comes in while they're still scheming.
"I like him," Adam says.
"You do?" Mark asks, concerned. "So you'll cooperate."
"Cooperate?" Adam says. "He could be the bitchiest little thing in the world and I'd still do him."
"Um," Mark says, but Adam's already got his phone out to call his mom.
He doesn't have much to tell her, so they speculate and Adam puts up with what sounds suspiciously like tentative wedding plans. Adam's not sure on the logistics himself - are they engaged and then married? Engaged and then a public break up after the tour? Mark says the official plan hasn't been entirely ironed out, but Chelsea starts getting names and numbers from Mark and then starts planning.
---
"I can't believe you got me moved in with you," Kris says from Adam's couch the next Tuesday morning. "We haven't even technically had our first date yet and we're already living together. Won't this be even worse for your image than everything else?"
"It'll keep things interesting. More importantly," Adam yawns and sprawls next to him, tired. "Why are you here at nine in the morning?"
"Because by this time normal people have begun their day," Kris says. "And I thought I had actual work today, but apparently I was mistaken. These moving people showed up at my house at six thirty and now everything I own is over here."
"Wait," Adam says, waking up a little. "Do you work for the label?"
"Yeah," Kris says.
"Are you on my team?" Adam asks, interested. "Because that makes this whole thing a little immoral."
"A little more so, you mean. And you know what they say about prostitution and the oldest profession," Kris shrugs.
"Oh my god, you are. How have I not met you before?" Adam asks.
"No, I'm not on your team," Kris says. "I'm a sound technician. While I get paid for doing this I'm technically on their payroll as your new personal assistant. So, on paper, you have three. Congratulations."
"So you're on my personal team now," Adam says. "I'm paying you."
"What is it with you and this prostitution thing?" Kris asks.
"It's a kink," Adam admits.
Kris says, "If it's alright by you, I'd like to hold off on things like that and learn the basics first, like your favorite color? We have to get to know each other eventually."
"Favorite color is black," Adam says. He leans closer. "Now, tell me, what's your stance on sex on the first date?"
"Very subtle," Kris says. "No."
"What do you mean, no?" Adam demands.
"It's a negative term, usually meaning stop or don't even think about it," Kris says flatly.
"Sometimes it means yes?" Adam tries.
Kris crosses his arms. "No."
"Okay," Adam tries again. "Then what's your type?"
"Female," Kris says.
"No, seriously," Adam says.
"No, seriously," Kris says.
---
Adam kicks Mark's chair until he hangs up.
"That was important, you know," Mark says.
"This is important," Adam informs him. "You got me engaged to a straight guy."
"So?" Mark says. "It's not like you're actually going to sleep with him."
"I was going to try," Adam says peevishly, and leaves when Mark starts laughing.
Jessie's only a little more helpful.
"They engaged me to a straight guy!" Adam wails. "They match all the other criteria and they miss that?"
"Did you actually specify it?" Jessie asks, bored and tapping away on her phone.
"I figured it went without saying," Adam says.
"I guess they thought it wasn't important, since he's not getting paid to actually sleep with you."
"He should be," Adam mutters unhappily. "It's one of the basic roles of the spouse. Ask anyone."
"Stop bitching," Jessie sighs.
"I like Chelsea more than you," Adam informs her. He really wishes Chelsea were here. She'd be appropriately sympathetic. She might even mean it.
Jessie gives him the finger. "Seriously, Adam. Get out of the goddamn car and go in to your fucking house. I don't want to sit out here all night."
"But he's there!" Adam says. He's been there all day, by himself. Probably went digging through all of Adam's personal belongings and everything.
"By your brilliant design," Jessie points out. "I still can't believe Chelsea let you do it. Now go."
And Adam respects his PAs enough to know when to listen, and this is absolutely one of the times, so he goes. He's just not happy about it.
Kris looks like he hasn't moved from the couch.
"How are you?" Adam asks suspiciously.
"Bored," Kris says. "Can I go home now?"
"No," Adam says stubbornly.
"Okay," Kris shrugs. "Whatever. Can you tell me where my room is?"
"Um," Adam says.
"I do have a room, right?" Kris says.
"I didn't think you'd be straight!" Adam thinks this is a perfectly suitable justification. He's not even sure any of the spare beds have sheets.
"But obviously you thought I'd be easy," Kris says, pissed.
"Don't take it personally?" Adam suggests weakly.
"I'm going to a hotel," Kris says.
Adam snarls at the front door when it shuts. There's probably an expense account all this is being billed to, and he probably reimburses it. Not fair.
---
They meet the next day to discuss their back story or something. Adam's not interested until he's had coffee, and he's busy staring at the door, willing Chelsea to appear faster.
"So how are you two kids getting along?" Mark asks cheerfully.
Adam gives his best playing-nice expression. "Great."
"Awesome," Kris adds, in the worst display of lying talent Adam's ever seen. If their respective chairs were closer together he'd kick him.
Mark looks pained. "What's wrong?"
The two creative directors, or whatever they're called, shift in their seats. Mark said they're the ones who'll come up with the Kris-and-Adam crap they'll have to parrot.
"He's boring and repressed," Adam says.
"He's a stuck-up slut," Kris says.
"Hey, maybe they're both right," Chelsea says brightly, laughing. Adam worships her anyway, because she brought his coffee. "And it seems like they're on even ground."
Adam makes a face at her. Kris fidgets uncomfortably, like he's unsure what to do. Adam would feel sorry for him if he didn't hate him so much.
"Look, I think we need to work through this," the lady Adam's never met before says. "You've obviously gotten off on the wrong foot. Let's just talk about it."
"Yes," the man Adam's never met before agrees. "We just need some communication. Adam, why do you say Kris is boring and repressed?"
"Because he sat on a couch all day and did nothing. He's also very rude." Chelsea snorts. Adam ignores her.
"And Kris, what problems have you had with Adam?"
"He called me a prostitute-"
"I did not. And it was a joke," Adam says.
"He moved me into his house-"
"It seemed logical-" Kris glares at him and Adam shuts up.
"And he assumed I'd sleep with him."
Adam doesn't have anything to say to that one.
"Adam," Mark says, very disapproving.
"And I'm actually only here right now to tell you that I quit. Thanks for the opportunity," Kris smiles, and then the little bastard actually walks out on them all.
Chelsea smacks the back of his head. "Did you have to be such a dick? Normally, you're so charming."
"It was all mostly an accident," Adam says. "He's just overly sensitive."
Mark glowers at him while the two people catch Kris and presumably talk him back into it, since he comes back a few minutes later, looking reluctant.
"We think you should both apologize and try to start over," the guy says.
"What are you, a relationship coach?" Kris asks.
Adam snorts in agreement.
"Try," the guy insists. "Begin something with good intentions and everything will be better."
Privately, because he has some tact, Adam thinks he sounds like a fortune cookie.
"Sounds good," Kris says. "Adam can go first."
Adam rolls his eyes. "I'm sorry I offended your archaic beliefs and I apologize for thinking you'd have a sense of humor."
"And I'm sorry for openly revealing what a bastard you are," Kris says sweetly.
Adam is totally up for this, but before he can open his mouth Mark slaps his hands onto his desk. "It would do you both well to remember you need each other." He glares around, and Adam's surprised to see Kris duck his head, too. "Now, the label rep will be here in twenty minutes. I suggest we let Beth and Evan explain how you two are going to convince everyone in the world that you're madly in love."
It actually goes well, which Chelsea attributes to Adam swallowing his pride and listening. Kris doesn't put up a fight at all, nodding in the appropriate places and even chiming in when necessary. Adam probably would've cooperated, too, but between Chelsea and Mark they know his day to day life and history well enough that it wouldn't have mattered if he hadn't been there at all. The label rep leaves happy, half-convinced herself that they really were involved.
The plan is to let the paparazzi find out as if it were a secret, and then to slowly leak details like some of Kris' old work records as an employee of the studio, which should be scandalous enough to keep anyone happy. They'll ignore it for a week or so after that, and then Adam and Kris are going to make a public announcement of their engagement. Adam puts in a vote that he should do the announcement himself, on the basis of Kris being a horrible liar, but that gets Kris up in arms about why, exactly, does Adam think he knows how good a liar Kris is, he's only known him for how many days, and Adam yells back about how it's his own damn reputation, thanks a lot, stay the fuck out of it, and Mark threatens to separate them like unruly three year olds.
From there they'll do interviews - most of which will be Adam or Adam-and-Kris, since everyone's pretty willing to bet nobody's going to want just the new, unknown boy toy, and even Kris seems relieved about that. They're still forcing him into all sorts of public communication coaching and everything, which makes Adam extremely pleased. He hopes Kris hates it as much as he did.
And finally, it turns out they don't have to get married. They're going to slowly grow apart over tour and split once it's over, or possibly right before the very end for an extra burst of publicity, the team hasn't decided yet. All in all, it's going to be a whirlwind romance that nobody will remember in a year.
The only flaw, it seems, is Kris' stance on photographical proof.
"I am not making out with him in public. Non-negotiable," Kris says again.
"It's just a little kissing. Grow up," Adam says, sighing.
"I'm worried you'll attack me," Kris tells. "You know, give an inch."
"Whatever," Adam says. "I promise not to jump you. Does that ease your fear of surprise gay sex?"
"I'm not worried about the sex," Kris says. "I'm worried about the STDs."
"Jesus, they are bad," Mark tells Chelsea.
"I know, right? It makes me want to get popcorn, even if just to make a point." She blows a bubble for emphasis.
"We can hear you, you know," Adam says.
Beth steps forward, trying to regain control. Apparently, she's the head of Adam's publicity team. He thinks he should've known who she was, except he's never listened to her or solicited her advice, so it's not all that surprising he didn't.
"Kris, you have to understand. Adam, being who he is, it wouldn’t be believable if there weren't some pictures," she says. "What about a few carefully planned ones, right at the beginning, and-"
"No, never happening," Kris says. "Sorry. It can be Adam turning over a new leaf or anything. Maybe he can abstain from all public contact in order to prove how different this relationship is or something."
"You're an evil little bitch," Adam says, and he totally means it, because of course the publicists love that idea.
Kris looks pleased with himself.
---
They ride home together in Kris' car. Chelsea took Adam's ride, said that since Kris drove himself Adam should go with him back to their house.
"My house," Adam said.
"I live there now, too," Kris said. "Ours."
So Adam's stuck in the passenger seat of the ugliest car he's ever seen.
"I practically built it myself, thanks," Kris says, insulted.
Adam stares at him. "How many years of your life did you waste doing that?"
"A couple months. One summer!" Kris says defensively.
"Right," Adam snorts. "And how many months before it worked?"
"A couple more, maybe," Kris says, smiling reluctantly.
Adam does not think this is cute, so he puts his sunglasses on to avoid giving Kris the wrong impression.
They're quiet for a long time, stuck in rush hour traffic in LA, which is only worse than regular traffic in that it takes four hours to get anywhere rather than three. Adam watches the people in the cars around them: it's fun to do, see who's arguing on their cell phones, doing make up, or even sometimes changing clothes, which is always the best.
Finally Kris clears his throat and says, "So, are we actually going to fight for the next six months?"
"Oh god," Adam says, "You're one of those people that can't stand to have anyone mad at them, aren't you?"
"No!" Kris says. "I just like a little civility, that's all."
Adam doesn't believe him. Still, he magnanimously says, "Truce, then. I won't be a bitch if you aren't." "I've never been a bitch in my life," Kris mutters, then raises his hands in surrender. "Alright, deal."
Of course, then neither of them has any clue what to say, so Adam hazards, "Where are you from?" Anyone could guess he's not native.
"The south," Kris says.
"Yeah, I figured," Adam rolls his eyes. "Where?"
Kris winces. "Arkansas."
"Oh my god," Adam says, horrified.
"See? See!" Kris cries. "This is why I don’t tell people. You wouldn't believe how many jokes I've heard, and nobody ever takes me seriously once they know. It's not my fault where I was born!"
"Defensive much?" Adam asks. "I wasn't going to say anything." He totally was.
Kris makes a disbelieving noise.
"I wasn't! I get jokes, too. Anyone who actually grew up in California gets looks. It's a place you're supposed to come to, not from. Nobody ever believes me," Adam insists.
Kris says, "I would."
"What does that mean?" Adam asks, outraged.
"Nothing," Kris says, laughing. "I swear."
"So," Adam rolls the idea around for a while, letting the sentence hang. He's never been congratulated for making good decisions, but in for a penny and all. "Since we're dating, want to go on a date?"
Kris looks over at him, probably trying to decide if he's trustworthy. Adam's tense, more worried about rejection than he's been in years. It's a distinctly unpleasant feeling.
"Okay," Kris says finally. "Where?"
Adam's surprised. "I wasn't expecting you to agree!" he says.
"Fine," Kris says easily. "I can retract it."
"No, no," Adam says, waving his hands around. "I just don't have any ideas. You weren't supposed to agree!" he repeats.
"What do you normally do for fun?" Kris asks.
"Well," Adam says.
"Oh, wait, I remember," Kris laughs. Adam scowls at him. "I guess it's not a group activity, huh?"
"Maybe not where you come from," Adam says, because he can't resist.
"Sure it is," Kris rolls his eyes. "Just so long as it stays in the family."
Adam laughs despite himself. When he shakes his head and gives up trying to find an answer Kris looks triumphant. "That's so horrible," he finally says.
"It's what people honestly think, I swear," Kris says. "Or at least they make cracks about it enough that it might as well be. I've always wondered how blondes put up with it."
"I don't know," Adam says. "Ask Chelsea. She probably gets it all the time."
Kris gets a funny expression and Adam waits, counting in his head. "Come on, everyone gets to it. Say it."
"It's just," Kris says slowly, "Chelsea seems very sweet, and I guess she's good at her job, right? But she sort of acts like California girls are supposed to, and-"
"That's the first thing Jessie said to her," Adam says happily. "Of course, Jessie's practically a genius, so she phrased it a bit better."
"Don't they hate each other?" Kris asks, fascinated.
"Nope," Adam grins. "Best friends. I think Chelsea's response was something like I know, right? And Jessie decided she liked her and that was that." He shakes his. "Don't let it fool you, though. It just means they're both evil."
"They don't always give you your way?" Kris asks sympathetically.
"No," Adam says mournfully, and Kris laughs at him.
The traffic opens up a little, finally, and they're home in fifteen minutes. Adam lets Kris wander around, poking into corners and messing with his sound system while he orders takeout. Kris doesn't venture upstairs, which is disappointing, but Adam figures he can work with it.
"Was it okay, getting a room last night?" Adam asks offhandedly.
Kris looks up from his perusal of Adam's music collection. He seems to think it's both too small and too limited. Adam's been biting back comments about snobbery for about five minutes. "Yeah," Kris says. "Plenty of hotels in LA."
"Do you still have your stuff there?"
"Nope," Kris says. "Management said I have to move in here."
"Good," Adam says, pleased. Kris rolls his eyes.
When the food comes Adam tries to draw Kris away, put in a movie, but he slaps Adam's hands away from the controls and keeps deriding Adam's taste in music.
Exasperated, Adam asks, "Okay, what do you like, then?"
Kris gets shifty. "Oh, I don't know," he says evasively, and then, "What movie did you want to watch?"
Adam's curious but Kris actually looks embarrassed, and besides, he's not sure his ego can take any more hits today, so he lets it go. Kris gives the movie five minutes before Adam gets a rant on his movie taste, too, like what, are all his preferences in popular culture crap? That segues into modern culture in general, at which point Adam gives up and just sits back to listen.
Afterwards, Adam convinces Kris that it's okay to throw the leftovers away and then says, "I have a surprise for you!"
"Please, no," Kris says.
"What?" Adam asks, affronted.
"Is this going to involve anything embarrassing for one of us?" Kris asks cautiously.
"No," Adam says.
"Okay," Kris says. "Proceed."
"You're very strange," Adam informs him. "Anyway, follow me."
He actually doesn't know which room Kris gets, since Jessie did it today while they were both out. Adam hopes she hadn't chosen a completely crap decorating scheme - his designer would kill him. So it looks a little ridiculous as they go down the hall, nudging open all four guest bedroom doors until he gets to the last one. It's the one furthest from his bedroom, a very good precaution, and it's also, Adam sees, the only other one with it's own in-suite bathroom. That was probably part of the decision, too. The bed set Jessie bought - to replace the ridiculously gorgeous, terribly uncomfortable bedspread the designer had chosen for all the rooms - is a pretty neutral navy blue, but Adam runs his hand over it and it's ridiculously high thread count and the softest thing he's ever felt. He suspects it may even be nicer than his, and he almost wishes he could've come up here and stolen it before telling Kris it was his.
"Oh," Kris says slowly. "My room?"
"Yeah," Adam says. "You like?"
"Yeah," Kris says, looking surprised about it. "It's cool."
It is pretty cool. It's not to Adam's taste, really, but Jessie did a good job making it look like a classy bachelor's room. There's some art deco stuff scattered in a couple of corners and the heavy, fancy furniture has been mostly replaced with modern, comfortable substitutes. It looks very much like Kris, surprisingly, though Adam realizes he may not be the best judge. He probably owes Jessie a raise now.
"Thank you," Kris says softly, touching the bed hesitantly. "It's - thanks."
Adam shrugs. "Jessie did it. She's amazing, like Chelsea. You can get her a soy latte or something if you want to thank her." He stands around awkwardly for another minute, but Kris is still looking around curiously so he goes to hide in his bedroom to avoid having to help carry boxes up.
---
Evan, who is Beth's second-in-command or something, tells Kris at the end of the week that he and Adam have a date arranged for that night. Kris gets to pass it on.
"Aw, I didn't even know you liked me that way," Adam says.
Kris looks like it takes effort not to roll his eyes. "We have to go to this restaurant at this time and stay for however long. Should be boring."
"Thanks for your high opinions of my company," Adam says. "Do you actually know what restaurant at what time for how long, or are we going to guess?"
"Yes," Kris says, "I wrote it down. I just have to find the piece of paper."
Which is how they end up two hours late for their reservation. Adam volunteers to help Kris find it, mostly because he knows it'll give him a chance to be nosy, and while Kris goes digging around his room - his very messy room, oh my god, do you ever clean? You've only been here a couple of days, Adam says - Adam roots through piles of crap and unpacked boxes and drawers to see what he can learn about his new fiancé.
"I don't think it's in there," Kris says wryly.
Adam doesn't stop digging through the drawer. "You'd be surprised how much you can learn about a person from their underwear. Oh, what's this?"
He pulls out a letter addressed to Kristopher Allen. It's well-worn and probably a couple of years old, and very personal, judging from the way Kris yanks it out of his hands and snaps, "Nothing, and stay out of my crap."
Adam chooses to try to keep their fragile peace, so he says mildly, "See what you can learn? I just found out your real name is Kristopher. That's so precious."
"Shut up," Kris says darkly. He's blushing. "It's from an old girlfriend."
Debating what to go through next, Adam's vaguely irritated when Kris says, "Here it is!" and holds out a paper that's been folded into roughly the size of a ping-pong ball.
"Jeez," Adam says, while he takes five minutes to unfold the stupid thing.
"I squashed it into my pocket," Kris explains.
Adam's not sure how it got from his pocket to the back of the bathroom cabinet, but there are some things even he knows better than to ask. Instead he hums noncommittally until he sees the info Kris was given and then he practically shrieks. "Our reservation time's in fifteen minutes!"
"Okay?" Kris says.
"The restaurant, Kris," Adam explains. "Is about forty-five minutes away and requires formal attire, so we both have to change. Furthermore, we'll have to call a car, because I don't own one and I'm pretty sure they won't let yours on the block. No offence," he adds.
"None taken," Kris says wryly.
Adam gets on his phone for a driver while he tries to pick out clothes and give Kris instructions on what, exactly, constitutes formal attire and yes, Kris, fake leather shoes will do but brown ones will not, especially with black pants, are you color blind? They're out of the house in about twenty minutes, which Adam knows is a personal record; he also knows he probably looks terrible. Kris doesn't even look harried.
Then the traffic sucks, like usual, except there's an accident, like usual, and then the lights are out on one of the streets, which isn't all that usual, and they're not at the restaurant until 9 o'clock and the maitre 'd is not, to put it lightly, very pleased to let them have a table. Fortunately, Adam's very good at getting what he wants, and they sit down very late, very hungry, and, in Kris' case, very appalled at Adam's negotiation skills.
"Seriously," Kris says. "You might've tried saying please."
Adam doesn't even glance up from the menu.
"Or even," Kris continues. "Explaining why we were late, apologizing, and asking when the next open slot was."
"Believe me," Adam says, still trying to decide whether the menu's really in French or some vague imitation that's deliberately been made more difficult to read, "my management would have killed me if I missed this. Probably you, too."
Their waiter shows up, of course, right when Adam has just successfully narrowed it down to two choices, so he makes Kris go first in order to buy time. Kris hasn't even looked at the menu, actually, so Adam's a little interested to see how he orders food when he doesn't know what the restaurant serves.
He says, "Steak, medium rare. And water, please."
Adam gapes at him when the waiter's left. "I didn't see steak on the menu anywhere!"
"And you speak French?" Kris asks politely.
"No," Adam admits. "But I try."
"Any vaguely fancy, non-vegetarian-only restaurant in LA serves steak. Order it like you know what you're doing and you'll get something basically edible," Adam's still making a face so Kris shrugs. "First thing I had to learn to survive in LA. Otherwise I would've starved during business dinners."
"That's brilliant," Adam says. "Think there's any vegetarian equivalent?"
Kris shrugs helplessly and Adam deflates. Kris suggests, "Maybe you can find one?" like he doesn't want Adam to lose hope. "I just don't end up at many vegetarian restaurants."
"That’s pretty impressive, living here," Adam says.
They find out the next day that nobody so much as noticed they were there. Adam holds that this is not their fault - how damn hard can it be for the paparazzi to be waiting where they're supposed to be waiting?
"You were two hours late," Mark says.
Adam snorts. "Come on. These are the same breed of creatures that climb trees and break into houses, right? How could be late deter them?"
Mark sighs and gives up. "Just show up on time tomorrow, all right?"
"Maybe," Adam says. "Where are we going tomorrow?"
They're going to another restaurant. Kris makes faces at this one, since it's vegetarian, and Adam sympathizes and suggests they go somewhere else. The driver ends up weighing in when they can't decide and by the time they eat - "I'm starving. I can hear my stomach with my ears plugged," Kris whines - they're halfway across town and have completely forgotten about the publicity.
"This time you didn't even show up," Mark yells the next morning.
Kris is with Adam for this one - Mark seems to have given up on intimidating Adam and gone after the weaker of them. It's almost working, too, because Kris keeps cringing when Mark points at him.
"And not only that, but instead of leaking the story of your engagement you managed to spread more rumors about sleeping around," Mark says.
Kris looks at Adam. "Do you have a twin?"
"I wish," Adam says, depressed. "We drove around all night, I swear!" He says to Mark's scowl. "Kris and the driver can vouch for me, Jesus. And besides," he adds as an afterthought. "I'm engaged. I would never cheat."
"Okay," Mark says determinedly. "We're telling Beth to find you guys somewhere you'll have to be recognized. And Jessie's going to arrange your ride this time."
He kicks them out.
"Wow," Kris says. "Do you always get treated like a child?"
"Yep," Adam says cheerfully. "Kind of fun, huh?"
"No," Kris says evenly. "Not for those of us who aren't contrary, stubborn people."
"You totally thought it was fun," Adam says. "Do you want to get coffee?"
"I can't," Kris says. "I have to get back to work."
"Wait," Adam says, "You work here?" He makes a face as soon as he asks. Of course Kris works here, he said he's a sound tech. "Can I come with?"
"No," Kris says immediately. "I mean it. No way."
"Why not?" Adam asks. He is not afraid to whine.
"You'll get in the way," Kris says. "Don't start, you will, too."
"Are you even working with anyone today, or are you just mastering?" Adam asks curiously. "Usually you can tell if there's too many artists here, there's more people running around."
"No, not with anyone today," Kris voice gets a little high. He's looking shifty again, and the elevator's just opened to go up. Adam has to go down.
"So what do you actually do? What part of it?" Adam prods.
"Nothing!" Kris says.
"Kris," Adam says.
"Seriously," Kris says, and shuts the elevator doors in Adam's face.
"Oh, no," Adam says.
He is absolutely not above using his power, looks, and charm to get what he wants. He's also not above just asking Mark, "What studio is Kris in?"
Mark writes it on a piece of paper and holds it up, busy on the phone, so Adam gives him thumbs up and hightails it to the third floor. There he hits a bit of a roadblock, because the sixty million year old receptionist will not unlock the doors for him.
"I'm just visiting!" Adam tries.
"I don't think so," she gives a little sniff and glares down her nose at him.
"Do you know who I am?" He throws out desperately.
"Don't know, don't care. I like these guys a lot more than I do your type, and you're not getting back there to bug them without their invitation, first," she nods with an air of finality.
"My type?" Adam asks skeptically.
"Famous people," she says dismissively. "All high and mighty and sticking their noses where they're not needed. Like they need your help with any of your music they're fixing."
Adam decides to switch tactics, shrugging. "Fine, I understand. Could I leave a message for one of them?"
She peers at him suspiciously. "What's their name, yours, and the message?"
Adam tries really hard not to laugh. He'd bet anything that she has no intention of passing it on. "It's for Kris Allen," he says, leaning forward conspiratorially, "and please just tell him that I will catch him one of these days."
She nods, haughty and not even pretending to write it down. "And you are?"
Adam smiles, nice and wide. "His fiancé," he says, and turns to go.
"Oh, oh, honey, wait there," she says, much friendlier. He turns back around. "Are you here to listen in?"
Cautiously, Adam says, "I'm here to do anything I can get away with."
She smiles conspiratorially. "Yes, Kris is very stubborn about letting people listen to his songs. I cannot believe he won't even let his fiancé listen. Stupid, shy boy. Come back here, I can sneak you in the corner."
Adam smiles. "Thank you so much. You're amazing."
"Uh huh," she says, "Now sit still and don't make a peep. They can hear you as well as you can hear them. And grab a card from my desk on your way out. If you ever need help wrangling him don't hesitate to give me a call."
She leaves to resume her surly guardian position and Adam drags a chair next to the designated door and preens. He's maybe half asleep by the time noise starts leaking from under the door. He doesn't notice it at first; it starts off with a slow guitar melody and drags in a couple of piano parts. The drums only hit halfway through, and that's when he actually sits up and listens, because it's good. He wants to hum along to parts of it, and normally he's not interested in instrumentals unless they're his own in-progress works but he wants to know who the artist is for this one, who they are and why he's never heard them before.
There's a couple more and Adam practically presses his ear to the door to listen. They're still heavily unfinished, levels unbalanced and some timing off here and there, but he doesn't think he's too wrong in guessing they'll be as good as the first ones when they're done. It's just way to early for them to be in production - they need a couple more run-throughs before they're ready. He waits just long enough after the last one to make sure there's not another one queued up before he barges on in.
Kris jumps, spinning around in his chair and yelping. Adam winces in sympathy; he knows from experience that the headphones hurt like a bitch when they're yanked off like that.
"Sorry," he says brightly. "I felt like visiting."
Surprise is chased by anger, and boy, is Kris pissed. Adam's taken aback; he's pretty sure Kris wasn't even this angry when they'd been bitching at each other. "Get out," Kris says flatly.
"No," Adam says.
Kris stands up and flails at him, but a door across the hall opens and a girl who just screams intern pops her head in. "Everything okay?"
"Yep," Adam says. "Everything's amazing."
She blushes at him. "You're - is Kris working on your songs?"
"Nope," Adam says. "I should be so lucky."
"Oh, um," she says, confused like she thinks Adam's being sarcastic.
"We're engaged," Adam shares cheerfully, because it seems to be getting him everything else today.
Kris makes a strangled noise and the girl gets excited, bouncing up onto her toes and saying, "Oh, wow. Congratulations, I mean, I didn't even know Kris was dating-"
"Thanks, Jen," Kris says tightly, herding her out the door. Adam winks at her before he shuts it.
"How did you even get back here?" Kris asks, unhappy.
"I'm your fiancé," Adam says dismissively. "Nobody would dream of keeping us apart."
"See, this? This is why you're a terror. You use absolutely anything to your advantage," Kris says.
"Always," Adam says remorselessly. "By the way, you aren't a sound tech."
"Yes, I am," Kris says.
"No, you're not."
"I know my own title," Kris snaps.
"And I know music," Adam says stubbornly. "Those songs aren't anywhere near ready for production, you don't even have any vocal tracks, for fuck's sake, and no way will I believe they're all instrumentals."
Kris gets pale. "You're wrong."
"You're a writer!" Adam finishes.
"Please, shut up, Adam, please," Kris says.
"What?" Adam asks, "What's wrong?"
"I'm just a ghostwriter," Kris says. "But you're not supposed to know."
"What?" Adam repeats blankly.
"I write songs and credit them to other people," Kris says reluctantly. "I'm not an actual songwriter."
"I know what a ghostwriter is," Adam says. "Why the fuck aren't I supposed to know?" Kris looks away, fidgeting. Adam grabs his shoulder, shaking him gently. "Come on, Kris."
Kris sighs. "Mark said you'd be pissed. I'm not getting paid extra for doing this with you. But in exchange, when it's over I get-" he trails off, waving his hand around in explanation.
"You get to be a credited writer," Adam fills in.
"Yeah," Kris says.
Adam steps back. "That's bullshit."
---
Mark is not happy to see him back again. "Haven't you left yet?"
"I am about thirty seconds away from firing your ass," Adam says calmly.
Mark stares at him for a second and then apparently decides to take him seriously, because he sits up and focuses on Adam in a way that's only happened a couple of times before. "What's wrong?"
"Explain to me," Adam sits back in a chair, cocking his head at Mark, "just what, exactly, Kris' job is and what deal this studio made with him in exchange for doing this."
Mark blinks, as obvious admission as Adam's going to get. He says, "Kris is a sound technician. And he'll be promoted in exchange for helping you. It's an extension of his role as an employee of this label and of you, its client."
Adam snarls. "Kris is a writer who's not getting credit or paid for his music. How many others do you use like that?"
"I promise you, Adam, Kris knew exactly what his job entailed when we hired him. He was aware that it included some creative duties," Mark holds up a hand when Adam opens his mouth to yell some more. "Every studio does it. This is LA, Adam. Not everyone who can write can sell."
Taking a deep breath, Adam says, "Fine. But I'm changing the terms. When he's done with this, he gets signed to record one real album."
Mark says, "Adam, that's not-"
"Or we'll be going to a studio that will," Adam says, smiling.
Mark pauses for a moment, considering. He doesn't say anything for a long time and Adam asks, "Well?"
"Did you ever consider," Mark says carefully, "that maybe Kris doesn't want to record his own album."
Adam doesn't hesitate. "Then that's up to him, isn't it?"
Finally, Mark nods reluctantly. Adam waves and leaves, wondering what the backlash for this will be.
Jessie calls Adam late that afternoon. "Did you really threaten to leave the label?"
"Yep," Adam says, digging through the pantry. He needs more groceries soon.
"Mark can't have been happy." She sounds interested in the idea.
"Nope," Adam says. He gives up on his search and goes to flip channels instead. It's sort of weirdly quiet without Kris back yet.
"So Kris wants to record an album?" She asks.
"Don't know yet," and when she makes a questioning noise he says, "He doesn't get credit for his own music right now, and they said he could be credited if he does this, I said they had to sign him instead. That's basically it. Except would you call around, look for someone to sit in with Kris during his meeting?"
"Yeah. That sounds cool," she says. "I'm glad you decided you liked him."
"He's okay," Adam says, grinning. She hangs up on him.
Kris slams the door when he comes home.
"Hello!" Adam calls.
There's no answer, and Adam hears him go up the stairs. Confused, he sits for a moment, but when Kris doesn't come back down he has to go up instead. He finds him packing, which throws him a little. "What are you doing?"
"What does it look like?" Kris asks shortly. "This whole thing was a bad plan."
"Why?" Adam draws it out.
"You know," Kris stops, dropping a bag on the bed and turning around the glare at Adam. "I came out here and took crap sound jobs so I could make my own music. And I'm almost there, I really am, and one day some executive's admin comes in, tells me I'm cute, and asks me how good an actor I am. And I end up here. And I actually liked you, despite all first impressions."
"Okay?" Adam says. "What happened, did they do something? I warned Mark-"
"Do something?" Kris repeats. "I got a message right after you left that said I had to pack my stuff and take it out, and I have a meeting with one of the VPs or something tomorrow morning. HR is sitting in, too, which would've been the biggest hint that I'm going to be fired, except the note also said that the meeting was to reevaluate my status within the corporation."
Adam frowns. "That's not right."
"Oh, really? Where did you mean to put me? I mean, you could've just taken me away from writing if you really hated my music that much. Or you could've said something to me, or kept it to yourself and not ruined all my chances."
"Hey!" Adam says, indignant. "I didn't tell them to-"
"To fire me?" Kris snorts. "No, you probably just complained to Mark and they took it one step too far. They're good at that. But thanks so fucking much for-"
"Shut up!" Adam yells over him. He laughs a little. "I threatened to fire them if they kept taking advantage of you like that. The meeting's to sign you."
Kris stares at him, mouth open.
"You know, so you can record an album?" Adam says.
Kris continues to gape.
Getting worried, Adam says, "But Mark said that maybe you didn't want to, and if you don't you don't have to, it's just an option, because me, I would want-"
"I do!" Kris says, high and frantic. He stops, embarrassed. "I do."
"Okay," Adam says.
"I - Thank you," Kris says. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," Adam says, grinning. "Though you're totally topping the list of most ungrateful people I've ever met. I don't think I've been yelled at like that since middle school. You have got talent at guilt tripping."
Kris flushes all the way down his neck. Adam watches interestedly. "Sorry," Kris says. "But thank you. I mean, I'm really sorry, I just - thank you."
Adam says, "If you don't stop being so polite I'm going to have to kiss you." Kris looks torn between manners and awestruck gratitude. Adam watches, amused, until he realizes Kris isn't going to make up his mind any time soon. Then he watches a little bit longer before taking pity on him. "You're going to have to call and tell them you can't make the meeting, though."
"What?" Kris asks, alarmed. "Of course I can."
"No, you can't," Adam corrects him. "Believe me, you do not want to start your career by letting them think you're a doormat. And besides, you need someone to come in who represents your best interests, and I can't go tomorrow morning."
"I don't think you should be there," Kris says. "I mean, I get what you mean, but I want to deal with it myself, or with whoever. You're way more important than I am, and if you're there it'll be weird."
"That almost made sense," Adam says. "But fine, I won't come. And Jessie will help you get a lawyer or somebody, and she'd be good to have there, too. She's good at arguing."
"Okay," Kris says, dazed. "Thank you."
Adam smiles. "Anything for my-"
"You say fiancé and you won't be getting a ring," Kris warns.
Part Two