Fic - Not Your Momma's Fairytale - Kradam - 3/4
Previous
"So," Brad says after they have agreed that David Cook is an asshole and Adam can totally take him. "I call custody."
"What?" Adam, Cassidy and Kris say together.
"You are not sending Tinkerbell back to hang around that empty apartment all alone," Brad declares. "He needs company and I have a drawer free."
Adam hears Kris' faint "Dick!" and the sound of someone (hopefully Brad) getting thumped. "Why do you get to have Kris? I could totally keep him here, I have, like, a whole hotel room."
"You sent us pictures," Brad reminds him. "It's beige, bitch. Where exactly were you thinking you'd hide Tiny and Glittery here?"
"That's not the point," Adam whines, flopping back on his bed and wincing when his belt digs into his kidneys. "You do not get to poach my room-mate just because I'm..."
"Living the dream?" Brad says sugar-sweet and faux-charming. "You knew there'd be sacrifices, baby."
"Yeah, but-" Adam snaps petulantly then trails off because he's supposed to be a fucking adult. He's not supposed to be sulking this badly just because he can't have his best friend living with him while he tries to make it as a rockstar.
"I know it's hard, babe, but it'll be worth it. You've come so far already." Cassidy says reassuringly and then spoils it by adding "And I'll take good care of Kris, I promise."
The ensuing bitch-fight is hilarious and Adam is sorta smiling when Kris absconds with the phone and retreats to what sounds like the balcony. "So, um, are you sure I can't just stay with you? Or the apartment?"
Adam bites his lip and it takes a supreme effort of will to be a grown-up about this but he manages. Barely. "I don't like the idea of you being alone, baby. I wish you could be here but..."
Kris sighs heavily and Adam swears that he can hear his wings drooping. "I know. It just, y'know, sucks." There's another, heavier sigh and Adam feels a little better at Kris' obviously bummed tone. "I miss you."
"Miss you too, babe." Adam manages through a suddenly choked-up throat. "Tell those two to settle this like adults and don't stay up all night, okay?"
"...you want them to have a drinking match?" Kris says dry and a little rough. "What have I done to you lately?"
Adam laughs and there's someone knocking on the door to tell him it's lights out. Adam thanks her and says goodnight to Kris, opening his smaller bag to pull out his t-shirt and sweatpants. Something small and plastic falls out and bounces under the bed. Curious (and kinda desperately hoping Brad didn't pack sex-toys), Adam roots it out. It's a small yellow Tinkerbell night-light.
He stares at it for a few minutes, eyes prickling and a huge goofy smile across his face. Then Adam wipes his eyes and adds a reminder to his phone to buy Brad a kick-ass Christmas present. He plugs the night-light in over the dresser and goes to sleep.
Idol turns out to be real work which maybe shouldn't be such a surprise. Adam feels like a kid in a candy store, bouncing around from technicians to mentors to the backing musicians (who buy him booze if he chips into the Idol-pot). There's so much to learn and he spends half the night on the phone to Kris and whichever of Adam's friends is currently enjoying custody raving about the whole thing.
Kris has figured out how to use the auto-dialer to vote multiple times for Adam and his friends have started holding viewing parties and there's a few vague mentions of his mom which Adam tries not to think too hard about. She and his Dad call every evening too and Neil keeps getting his voice mail and has started leaving some really weird messages.
It helps to have a hundred million calls every day and Kris always free to take his calls because the other Idols are awkward. There's a girl, Megan who Adam actually gets along with and she's pretty much the only thing keeping him sane. He and Cook are still sniping at each other and it's complicated by the fact that they guy's actually pretty much Adam's main rival. He's got a cool voice, he's (sorta) hot and he's pretty laid-back and cool.
He's also the world's biggest dickhead (not that Adam is biased or anything).
He's hanging out with Michael Johns mostly. Somehow, he still finds the time to back up Mike Sarver and Danny who have this careful ostracism dance going on and it fucking sucks. Adam's long since out of the habit of apologizing for his existence but every second spent having to deal with Danny's big faux-jovial smirk and the sly whispers from him and Sarver is an inch closer to an actual ulcer. Cook isn't really part of that but having picked his side in this whole clusterfuck, he seems determined to stick to it.
Adam winds up making friends with two of the other guys despite everything; Matt and Anoop who are both 'straight' (gaydar says: bi-curious) but honestly seem to think that Danny's going too far, rather than that this is a surefire way into Adam's pants. It's enough to keep Adam going through the first few weeks.
The judges honestly don't seem to know what to do with him. Randy pauses a lot and seems to be picking his words really carefully. Paula watches him like she's expecting him to do something really outrageous. Simon seems to like him just because everyone else is panicking at the potential train-wreck that is a gay Idol. He might also actually believe Adam is that talented. Adam thinks, either way, when this is over, he probably owes Simon a fruit basket.
The weekly votes are harrowing; he's good enough that he can sail through the first few weeks even if he's a nervous wreck by the end of each show. It's crazy and he's killing it every time. He's one of the first to make it to safety every week. Paula comes around too, singing his praises and complimenting him on the weirdest things.
He and David Cook avoid each other religiously. They're pretty much trading off top spot week by week and it turns out that Cook is really kinda competitive. As much as Adam hates to admit to having anything in common with his 'nemesis', they are both going into the weekly performances aiming to beat each other. It pushes Adam to his limits and Kris starts to sound a little worried when they talk at night.
It's doing wonders for the ratings, Brad tells him, because underneath the glitter, Brad is a statistics geek. Adam doesn't really follow the figures but it doesn't surprise him. The song choices are always polar opposites, he's getting asked so many leading questions in his solo slots and he and Cook are always kept apart during the publicity shots. Ryan is practically smacking his lips over the growing tension between them when they and the other finalists move into the Idol Mansion. Adam spends the night before on the phone to Kris, paranoid that they're going to try and lump him with Cook.
"The ratings would be massive," he mourns. "They've been thinking about this since Sarver got eliminated, I just know they have."
"If they're worrying about you being gay damaging the 'family-friendly' image, I'm fairly sure that they aren't going to want actual live-on-camera murder happening in the mansion." Kris points out logically. "They're greedy but they're not stupid."
Kris is excited because the week after next, Adam actually gets to go home for a weekend and he's full of plans. Adam approves of the ones involving sleep, Kris' cooking and Kris. He winds up owing Kris ice-cream because Kris is right. Despite the potential ratings bonanza, he's sharing a room with Matt.
It's a good week and Adam's feeling awesome. Then Matt is eliminated and god, it fucking sucks. He's made it to the Top 10 and he tells Adam that that means a recording contract which is all he really wanted. Adam hugs him and helps him carry his bags out and hugs him and makes him promise to call.
Then he goes upstairs and calls Kris so he doesn't notice how empty the room feels. Kris does most of the talking, telling him about how Cassidy sewed felt hearts on the inside of Brad's boxers and how Brad was worrying that one of his ex-boyfriends might have stolen a memory card.
Yeah, in retrospect, Adam definitely should have been paying more attention to that.
So, the pictures leak on Wednesday night, really Thursday morning and Adam wakes up to a PR meltdown. The Idol staff are almost hysterical; not because they didn't know Adam was gay (that was just never going to work) or because Adam himself has done anything that could constitute a breach of his contract (Adam's pretty sure the legal department has checked, then double-checked on that). No, they're running damage control because, to Adam's honest amazement, firing him is not only not an option, it would apparently make everything so much worse.
There have been some people calling in to complain which, okay, Adam was kinda braced for. What he wasn't expecting was that some of his internet fans have organized mass phone-ins urging 19 and FOX to support him. Adam winds up in meetings, the whole day which really, really screws with his performance rehearsals.
"Okay, so the cat is out of the bag," one of the producers says at last. "We don't want this to become the big issue. This is a distraction and we can't afford to get mired in this. We don't dwell on this, we say 'yeah okay, Lambert's gay but have you heard him sing?', understand?"
It's possibly the only time in Adam's life that he has wished he wasn't such an awesome performer. He nods, he smiles and he bites his tongue on every vicious, emotional response before it can get past his teeth. He leaves them smiling and talking about playing up Idol's inclusive nature and the goodwill they're going to get from 'minority' groups.
Adam totters up to his room, winds up sitting with his back against the bed and his knees drawn up as he breathes. He feels soured and cheapened by the whole thing and he's tempted to just crawl into the shower and scrub until the soiled feeling goes away. Instead he fumbles out his phone and presses speed-dial.
"Hello?" Kris' voice is bright and Adam's breath shudders out. "Adam? What is it? Are you okay?"
"I-" Adam swallows. "Honestly, baby, I don't know. I don't think- I think I'm fucking this up."
"Tell me about it," Kris says, serious and supportive and Adam opens his mouth and it all comes pouring out. Every doubt, the way he keeps skipping food because there are seriously cameras everywhere, that Meg's freaking out about next week and the room feels ridiculously empty. It isn't until Kris gently points out that Adam hasn't slept alone for the last ten years that Adam realities why.
"And I fucking miss you," Adam says at last, voice rasping and his eyeliner is probably smeared all over his face but he feels better, more centered. "It's been like a month and I'm calling you all the time but it's not the same."
"I'd hope not," Kris says with a smile that Adam can almost see. "Can't replace me that easily, man."
"You're coming on Friday, yeah?" Adam says and Kris hums. "I'm serious - I will skip the clubbing if it means that I can see you."
"Such a sacrifice," Kris teases.
"Damn right," Adam says primly. "Seriously, though, you are going to be there."
"Wouldn't miss it," Kris promises. "You should get some sleep. I'm going to be really demanding company."
"Well, I knew that," Adam laughs around a yawn. "I don't wanna hang up yet."
"I'll sing you to sleep," Kris offers which means that he doesn't want to hang up either. Adam hums agreement and Kris starts to sing 'May it be'.
"You've been watching Lord of the Rings again," Adam accuses sleepily and Kris laughs, threading it into the song and Adam slips into dreams of Brad with hairy feet and Kris in a flowing white dress.
He wakes up with the dial tone burring against his ear and a crick in his neck. He feels fantastic.
Friday is odd; the official story has been handed out and the other five Idols are watching him with wide eyes. Anoop has coffee waiting for him and when Adam thanks him, shrugs a shoulder and says "That producer was a dick. I wanted to kick him after five minutes. You were in meetings for five hours with him. You deserve coffee."
Adam hugs him, one-armed so he doesn't spill the coffee. "That's so sweet."
"Hey, some of us," Anoop wriggles away and smooths out his shirt. "Are planning to take advantage of the fact that you've just broken millions of hearts. There are women out there in need of love and support and I'm just the guy to help them through this difficult time."
Adam loses it, laughing so hard he does spill some coffee. He's still smiling when he troops in to hear all about the theme for this week. It's Country and Western and Adam doesn't even care that he knows like one song that could fit under that category because it's Friday and that means that in just a few hours, Adam is going to have a Kris.
He bounces out of the mansion, waving to Johns who is standing beside Cook. He keeps smiling even when Cook makes a weirded out face and waves hesitantly back. He's got a bag slung over his shoulder and has already texted Brad to warn him that he's going to pillage his dresser and eyeliner stash.
"You heading out?" Johns asks unnecessarily.
"Yup," Adam grins. "My friends are forgetting what I look like."
"No televisions?" Cook says but it's more joke than insult and it bounces harmlessly off Adam's invincible good cheer.
"Some of them have actual lives, Cook," he says loftily. "Shocking as it may seem."
He hops into the car that's going to drop him to Cassidy's apartment Cassidy is current custody holder (according to the arcane schedule Alisan emailed him) which means Kris will be there.
About two miles away, Adam winds down the screen between them and says "I know I gave you an address but actually-" because he was stupid. Kris isn't going to be waiting in Cassidy's apartment for him.
Adam bounds up the creaky stairs to their apartment and the door is open by the time he makes it up the last flight. Kris peeks out from behind the open door and zips across the landing to latch onto Adam's neck. Adam drops his bag and reaches up to cradle Kris and his smile threatens to split his face. "Hey, baby."
"Hey," Kris says, muffled and not letting go. "You're home."
"Yeah," Adam says, hugging him close and kicking the door closed. "Yeah, I am."
Kris does eventually lets go but he keeps circling back to settle on Adam's shoulder or poke his arm while the pots simmer. Adam tells him all about the other Idol wannabes and the music and the all the little things that he's been hoarding up to share like this, where he can see Kris sputter and blush and smile. Kris looks a little thinner but Adam doesn't really think he's in any place to point fingers.
They go out much later, not to one of the usual clubs but to a small bar run by one of Cassidy's friends. It's one of those almost local bars with live music and sheltered booths where Kris can sit on the table and take part in the conversation. Adam relaxes and just basks in it.
He falls into bed, lulled to sleep by Kris' breathing from the pillow by his bed. Adam wakes late, slouches around the kitchen while Kris makes him an utterly unhealthy breakfast with eggs and bacon and non-whole-wheat toast. He doesn't shower until like three and he bums around in scruffy, frayed jeans and a worn-out sequined upcycled t-shirt that Cassidy played around with for most of the afternoon.
"Bum," Kris teases, zipping past to hover over the coffee machine.
"No cameras in this kitchen, baby," Adam points out, sipping at the smoothie Kris had made him. "I'm enjoying this while it lasts."
"It's really screwing with you, isn't it?" Kris settles on his shoulder, wings brushing Adam's cheek.
"It's not that bad," Adam lies. "It isn't, it's just wearing me out. There's like no time to call you." Kris politely doesn't call bullshit on that one and Adam waves a hand. "Not as much as I'd like to talk to you. I'm spoiled back here, that's all."
"Mmm," Kris makes popcorn and they watch all three X-men films from a cocoon of blankets and cushions on the rug.
Sunday flies past, Adam gets in some quality time with the rest of his friends to talk about the show and the word on the streets (or internets, in this case). He also gets to offer some choice words about the care and feeding of his fairy which makes Brad laugh and Cassidy throw peanuts at him.
He finds out why when he gets back to the Mansion and tosses his bag onto his beds.
"Oof!" the bag says. Adam double-takes and pokes it. Kris pops out, hair mussed up and wild.
"The fuck?" Adam asks eloquently, flailing a little.
"You've been lonely," Kris says, like he didn't just sneak in Adam's bag. "And you don't have a room-mate any more."
Adam opens his mouth to argue before his brain kicks in to ask what the fuck he's arguing for? Kris is here and Adam can feel the looming tension drop just from that. It isn't going to be fun for Kris but there's a double elimination looming and three weeks tops after that and Adam's suddenly sure that he's going to be here for the whole of those three weeks.
Kris joins him in the shower and they rock through the greatest hits of Abba before Adam has to run to do his hair and make-up before the drivers arrive to take them to rehearsals Kris tidies the room and sneaks downstairs for snacks. He's got his phone and, judging by the busy signals Adam's getting from Cassidy and Brad, he's talking to people plenty. Adam smiles to himself and turns to considering his choice of songs. He has it down to three before the practice time runs out.
Adam promises to have an actual, honest-to-god song tomorrow and they pile into the limo and Johns goes straight for the champagne and starts talking about next show.
"You picked your song?" Kris asks when Adam retreats to his room.
"I'm not sure," Adam taps his fingers. "I'm thinking Johnny Cash actually."
"You could do the Fire song," Kris says, smile badly hidden.
"'Ring of Fire', you mean?" Adam teases. "You're a philistine."
It's not like Kris doesn't know most of Cash's songs - he plays along when Adam's singing - but he and Brad had a very heated disagreement about it at Burning Man and it's been 'the Fire song' ever since. Adam laughs and it's so normal that it borders on the surreal.
He sings through his personal version of it, Kris strumming along and joining in to add his own rougher voice to the chorus. Adam lets the last note trail off and opens his eyes. Kris sets his guitar down and looks up at him,.
"Yeah," Adam says, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm going to do that one."
"Awesome," Kris says simply.
He rocks the performance that week, "Ring of Fire" goes down a storm and even Simon is left pretty much speechless. He keeps blinking at Adam like Adam's really done something that extraordinary which is flattering and freaky in about equal measure. Adam's used to Simon being sardonic and back-handed with the compliments, the honest approval is something else altogether. Adam's smile might be a permanent fixture.
Adam's the first one across the stage and he's riding such an epic high that he doesn't even care when Ryan sends Cook to join him a minute later. There's a shockwave of nervous energy sparking just inside his skin and Adam has to focus really hard on keeping still and relaxed. Anoop and Johns bite the dust, Megan only just saved and Adam hugs her and there's tears, lots of tears.
When they get back to the mansion, someone (Kris) has smuggled in half a liquor cabinet; vodka, Malibu, Kahlua and the ice trays have been topped up. Adam, channeling his barista past, offers to make Megan any cocktail she can describe. Anoop objects on the grounds that he clearly needs more booze than Meg and Adam winds up giving him a half pint glass filled with enough alcohol to strip paint off the ceiling overhead.
It goes downhill from there. Or maybe uphill. Adam's far too drunk to care.
He wakes up in his own bed and thanks God for small mercies as he scrambles for the bathroom and his toothbrush. Judging by the taste, something small, acrid and hairy died in his mouth last night and Adam's stomach, already uneasy after the whole 'getting up' thing, lurches and threatens to turn itself inside out. He hangs onto the marble sink and wonders dimly if he can lean over to throw up into the toilet without toppling face-first into the fittings.
There's a glass of water and four Tylenol beside his toothbrush and a travel-sized bottle of the mouthwash Brad's mom sends him from time to time and Alisan christened the 'Hell in a Bottle'. Adam brushes his teeth, drinks the water, takes the pills and washes his mouth out, saying a feverent prayer of thanks for benevolent fairies and their magic.
By the time he's showered and staggered muzzily back out into the bedroom, Adam's thawing towards a semblance of humanity. "Kris, have you seen-"
"Kris?" David Cook mumbles, head lifting from the pillows on what used to be Matt's bed. "'M not Kris. I'm....David?"
"Sorry, sorry," Adam has one hand anchored around the corner of his towel. "I'm having room-mate flashbacks."
"Didn't you used to room with Matt?" Cook asks as he tries and fails to sit up. "I don't remember a Kris."
"No, Kris is my roommate from home," Adam says, clinging to his towel like a lifeline and floundering frantically through his memories of last night to explain what the everloving fuck David Cook is doing in his room. "He's the one with a ridiculous alcohol tolerance so he's the designated adult."
"Designated adult?" Cook rolls over and yeah, bloodshot eyes, disheveled hair and all the signs of what must have been an epic binge. There's a glass of water by the bedside; Kris again because he's never stopped being the perfect Southern stereotype when it comes to niceness.
"Yeah, he says it's easy just to work around me after a late night," Adam's peering around as surreptitiously as he can. No sign of Kris, which means he's probably hiding until Cook wakes up enough to fuck off. There's a thread of anger in Adam's fuzzy brain; Cook's intruding. Cook's making Kris hide away like a dirty secret and Adam's ruffled, not angry - yet - but working his way up there. He wants Cook to go away. Short-term, Adam would be happy if he could just stay down long enough for Adam to grab his clothes and make it back to the bathroom.
"Man, sounds like he's a saint," Cook makes it more or less upright, swaying a lot but sort of steady. He looks green. "We don't have to be at studio today, right?"
Adam's lips quirk despite himself at the plaintive tone. "Not 'til later, no."
"Oh, thank God," Cook mumbles and starts to shuffle for the door. Adam grabs up the small pile of fresh clothes and backs into the bathroom as soon as Cook's back is turned.
It's a quiet day, everyone deep in contemplation of their hangovers. Anoop makes Adam promise to email him the mix for the paint-peeling cocktail and Johns insists on getting his number because he and his wife are moving to LA and Adam can have his own wing in their house if he willing to supply cocktails at barbecues and house parties. It's kinda sweet, actually.
Adam smuggles Kris into the studios by judicious use of hoody and Kris' unfeigned and absolute delight makes it worth having to record three identical versions of the same song because the producer is feeling artistic (or malicious, Adam's not sure). Kris sings with him that night, perched on the windowsill and staring out at the lights while Adam drowses on the bed.
"It's so bright," Kris says, wondering and wistful and Adam hums. "From here, it kinda looks like..."
"Like?" Adam prompts, hovering on the edge of sleep because Kris' tone is setting off warning bells.
"Like home," Kris says and the surprise pushes back his exhaustion enough that Adam can open one eye. "The lights and the...the energy, I guess? Back home, there's always someone starting their day. If the dryads are asleep, the dwarves'll start work. I used to spend the night by the windows when I couldn't sleep and my mom would come sometimes and sit with me and tell me who was awake and what they were doing. It's still weird that the stars stay the same but it's close enough, you know?"
Adam knows a little about home-sickness, enough to know the way the unfamiliar can be warped into something dear with just a lot of desperation and the need to not be only one alone in a new place. He lifts a hand, feeling like someone's packed lead under his skin and mumbles a little.
Kris' wings flex in a nervous flutter. "It's-...I-...Ten years, nearly. I thought it would be easier to miss it now."
Adam hears him, tone registering more than words but he's so fucking shattered and Kris doesn't talk about his family so Adam doesn't know what to say, how to make this right and his eyes won't stay open. Kris is singing something slow and bittersweet as Adam sinks into sleep. His dreams that night are tangled, confusing and he wakes with a crick in his neck and a foul mood that survives Kris' sunny "Good morning!" and the coffee waiting for him.
He's morose through studio time and into the costuming discussion. Danny tries to ask him about it and Adam looks for cameras before he can censor himself. Megan is furiously focused and Adam thinks she might be over-stressing it and Cook is just watching him with unfocused intensity and Adam wants them to go away and give him time to process.
Because Fate hates him, this is the point at which his life gets crazy. The demands of the publicity people ramp up, there's a hundred and one interviews and if it wasn't for Casey the awesome PA, Adam wouldn't even know who's he's supposed to be talking to. Studio time becomes gold dust, not just because Ryan and the production team keep casually dropping viewing numbers and projected ratings and even Cook is starting to sweat under the scrutiny. In the studio means that you're not available for interviews or soundbites or soulful one-on-one sessions with the cameras.
"She's not going to make it," Kris says sadly when Adam gets back to his room, frazzled and punch-drunk with exhaustion. The rerun of tonight's show is winding up on the small TV screen. "Is she?"
"I don't know," Adam says, then sighs. "Probably, though."
"She seems really nice," Kris is watching as the camera skims past Megan and Adam winces at how plastic her smile looks.
"She is," Adam says honestly and bites his tongue on the whole argument about this contest not being for the nicest person and the music industry's habit of eating the naive alive.
Meg goes home the next night and there's more tears but less alcohol and Meg sits up with Adam until the sky is graying towards dawn. Adam hugs her, promises to keep in touch and reminds her that they still have the tour to come. Megan smiles sadly and she seems smaller, lacking some of the vital energy that Adam associates with her.
Three men standing and it hikes up the pressure, the scrutiny and Adam has to bite his tongue every time he gets within a hundred feet of Danny. He honestly did not think that it was possible for him to hate being around Danny any more than he already did. He's half-afraid that his face might be stuck in the faux-cheerful publicity smile he's been wearing.
Danny murders his Aerosmith song on Tuesday. It's actually painful to watch and Adam is sitting in the green room watching the feed from the judges' camera and he's wincing even before they get to Simon. Paula is frowning a little, mouth drawn down as she waves her hands and spends something like five minutes talking around the performance and looking for something to praise. Simon just shakes his head and sits back.
"I think Paula's complete inability to find anything worth praising in that performance says everything I wanted to say, Ryan."
Cook sings "Hey Jude" and Randy is over the moon about it, jumping around in his seat and the crowd is cheering wildly. Ryan ducks back into the green room for a bottle of water. "Boy, I'm glad we have extra security tonight."
"What? Why?" Adam is texting Kris but he looks up to see Ryan getting sweat mopped off his face and make-up artists hovering.
"The fans, man," Ryan shakes his head. "Yours specifically. Well, yours and Cook's. Cuban Missile Crisis, I'm telling you. All itchy fingers."
"...you know I still have to go out there, right?" Adam checks, thumbing 'send' and standing up.
"Oh yeah," Ryan flashes shiny white teeth at him. "Break a leg, dude."
"Oh, gee, thanks," Adam dead-pans as he puts his phone away and takes a deep breath.
The adrenaline kicks in and he blasts through the song and even before Ryan crosses the stage, Adam knows he's through. He smiles, feeling the joy and the light inside him radiating out. The audience is a unified animal, howling and cheering in one crashing tidal wave of sonic power. All that love, crazy and wild and unashamed and this, this is what he wants. This is worth the sacrifices and the hellish hours. This one perfect flawless second.
Adam rides the high all the way home and he's still soaring through the good vibe when Danny gets sent home and it's just him and Cook. The publicity ramps up again and Adam's on the other side of giddy, sleep-walking between the cameras. He's on; nailing the mood and right words and it's awesome, unreal and Adam feels like a shooting star, blazing and brilliant with everyone turning to see.
The publicity and the relentless attention during practices means that his time with Kris is skinned to the bone. Kris winds up sleeping on Adam's pillow, a tiny bundle of golden skin and amber-warm wings. The night before the final, everything hovering and just waiting to fall into place, Adam tosses his notes onto the empty bed, falls back on to his bed. "I'm done. Fuck this. I'm fucking done."
Kris looks up from where he's noodling along on his guitar, eyebrow raised. "Not 'til tomorrow, you're not."
"I'm done rehearsing," Adam clarifies, pushing up on an elbow. "It's all fine and I'm this close to being sick of everything. I need some air."
"Nearly past curfew," Kris points out but he's tucking away his guitar and fluttering across the room to land on Adam's shoulder. "Where do you wanna go?"
"Somewhere without people," Adam decides, shrugging into his scruffiest hoody. "Somewhere where you can stretch your wings and I don't have to worry about you being seen."
"In LA?" Kris mocks, hopping neatly aside then snuggling back into the folds of the collar. "There's the park?"
"Perfect," Adam grabs his wallet and phone and leaves a message for security, asking for privacy and swearing on his flat iron that he's only going to the park. Kris brings his Bluetooth headset and hooks it over Adam's ear.
"So we can talk and you won't look like a crazy person," Kris pauses and looks at Adam's scruffy hoody, ripped jeans and biking boots. "Well, more like a crazy person."
"Brains and beauty, babe," Adam grins wide and affectionate. "You're just too good to be true."
Kris laughs and Adam jogs to the park, keeping his hood up and a wary eye out for photographers and camera-phones. Security are orbiting, nodding discreetly and checking he has his phone. Adam thanks Seth, who's acting supervisor and a really cool guy, and waves goodbye until he's safely behind the perfectly manicured hedges.
He puts his hood down and Kris zips out, wings stretching out as far they go and looping high speed circles around Adam. Adam laughs himself breathless and has to prop his hands on his knees until he can catch his breath. Kris is spelling out I-D-O-L in gold and glitter and in the dense, shaded twilight between the hedges, it's magic, unreal and Adam laughs, joy bubbling up.
Then Kris freezes, light snuffing out like someone flicked a light switch and Adam's laughter strangles in his throat. Kris' eyes look huge, his body tensed and wings shivering just enough to keep him up. He's radiating wariness, fear and determination.
"Adam," and it isn't a plea, isn't an order but Adam's nodding all the same and there's a reek in the air, rotten and dead things, like fertilizer but worse. Adam thinks of rotten meat and desiccated skin and dead, decay in one putrid cloud. Kris shoots away, deeper into the hedges. There's a tree, bare black branches against the dull glow of the city lights.
The smell is thicker, almost oily against his skin and his tongue and the hedges are yellowed, browning leaves withered on the branches. The grass is sparse and dry and dead underfoot. Adam's trembling, hurrying after Kris and cataloging the wreckage of the park before them. Kris' light is flaring up again; sharp and bright like a photographer's flash but gold and Adam sees something grey and greasy and not entirely substantial. No, some things.
They were crowded around the roots of the tree, straining up to the first major fork. It looks like there are stars, dim and just visible through the twigs and the twisted branches. Kris sings, something fierce and tribal and kinda maybe folk or country overtones. The things recoil, twisting and writhing into new shapes and tangles and Adam opens his mouth and sings, threading his voice into the melody and faltering a little but putting his voice behind it and singing louder.
The smell rises, an almost visible fog then the things are coiling and sinking and oozing away into the roots of the tree and gone. Gone, thank God and Adam lets the song trail away. Kris is shining, looking fierce and noble and radiating beautiful golden light. Adam opens his mouth but before he can say anything-
"K-Kris?" A soft hesitant voice makes Adam look up at the tree.
"KRIS!?!" One of the 'stars' flares up, a rainbow of red and purple and warm colors and tones and flashes down out of the tree to plow into Kris headlong, squealing and babbling. The other 'star' follows, only a little slower and more dignified and they both latch onto Kris and there's a high, delirious chatter filling the air.
Adam hears Seth's footsteps and looks frantically around. There's nowhere to hide and his hoody is threadbare and there's no way he's going to be able to hide the light-show in progress.
"Kris," he hisses. "Oh my god, Kris! Security's coming."
Kris looks up and nods, then he bends his head to talk to the two other fairies. The chatter dies down and Kris drags them both over and tucks all three of them into Adam's hood. Adam pulls up his hood and tries to look confused (not really a stretch) and clueless (again, not a reach).
"Adam?" Seth sounds relieved and officious and he touches his earbud. "Got him. You okay? Need an ambulance? Cops?"
"No, I'm good," Adam looks around. "Thought I saw some lights or something." He shrugs at Seth's eloquent glance. "I think I've been working too hard."
"Maybe you should call it a night?" Seth suggests pointedly and Adam smiles, aiming for rueful but there's a shifting weight just against the back of his neck, soft skin and tiny hands and it's really, really fucking distracting.
They're only a couple of blocks from the mansion but Seth insists on walking him the whole way back which means Adam has to act natural the whole way. He pleads exhaustion and escapes at the front door, promising truthfully that he's going straight up to his room and he's not going to go out again tonight.
The second he's in the door, Adam pulls down his hood and the fairies tumble out to land on the bed. Kris lands, wings still half-raised and ready and he looks up to smile at Adam. Adam is far more interested in the two new fairies. They're actually smaller than Kris, a pale boy with a silver-green glow and dark hair and eyes and a pretty girl with fiery scarlet hair, dark eyes and rich royal purple wings.
Both of them are staring at Kris, wide-eyed and awed and Adam has to shove back the urge to snatch Kris up and hide him away. "Going to introduce me, baby?"
The two fairies blink up at him; the girl looks approving and the boy looks a little weirded out, backing up a little. Then he looks at Kris who is scratching the back of his neck and looking a little embarrassed. Then he looks up at Adam and his eyes go really wide.
"I'm Allison," the girl says, waving up at him. "And your eyes look amazing!"
"I like her," Adam says immediately and Kris cracks up, wings fanning out to keep his balance as he folded up around a laugh.
"Uh," the boy looks at him then at Kris. "I'm David Archuleta-"
"-but everyone calls him Archie," Kris and Allison finish in unison and Adam's eyebrow goes up.
"Oh-kay," Adam crouches down and waves two-fingers. "Good to meet you guys, I'm Adam-"
"Oh my GOD!" Allison flails a little, wings threshing around. "You're from the show! With the music and the voting!"
Archie looks blank and Kris looks wary. Allison rolls her eyes and thumps Archie on the shoulder. "The one with the posters?"
"Oh," Archie looks back up at Adam and bites his lip. "Um, well, I guess if His Highness thinks you're um, 'good people'? That's good enough for me, you know?"
"Good people?" Kris says.
"His Highness!?" Adam says at exactly the same time.
One horribly convoluted explanation later, Adam pinches his nose and holds up a hand. "So, you really are a prince?"
"The Crown Prince," Archie says helpfully from where he and Allison are working their way through the large pizza and Coke that Adam ordered in.
"The Crown Prince, right," Adam drops his hand to stare at Kris who is sitting crosslegged on his pillow. "And you didn't think to mention this because...?"
"I didn't see the point," Kris admits. "My family thought I was dead, I didn't know how to go home and it just didn't seem to matter."
"It would have been nice to know!"
"It- I wasn't Crown Prince, I couldn't be Crown Prince and I didn't want it to make things weird!" Kris waves his hands helplessly. "It wasn't important."
"But you're the Crown Prince!" Allison and Archie say around mouths full of pizza.
"I was dead," Kris corrects, "As far as anyone knew, I was dead and gone. Daniel's the Crown Prince now."
"But he sucks," Allison says after swallowing. "I mean, he's an awesome dude but he's kinda a crummy Crown Prince. He really, really doesn't want to be Crown Prince and he's kinda being a brat about it."
"Alli's right," Archie says, all solemn and mature with tomato sauce smeared around his mouth like a clown's makeup. "You are an awesome prince and everyone's been praying and hoping that you survived."
"Praying and hoping," Adam says cynically. "As opposed to actually looking for him, yes?"
"We did!" Allison objects. "Katy never stopped looking and man, she's going to be so psyched. I cannot wait to see her face!"
"Katy?" Adam asks, stomach sinking. "You had a girlfriend?"
"What? Katy? No, no, no, no, man, no." Allison is bouncing around. "Katy's his Protector."
"His what?" Adam wonders if there's any more Tylenol in the bathroom cabinet. He doesn't think he should be mixing it with the emergency booze but right now, he thinks a blackout would be beautiful. His mind, which hates him, offers the picture of a butch looking condom and Adam really, really hates his brain. "Is that like a condom?"
"What's a condom?" Archie asks and Kris has to burrow under the pillow to hide the hysterical laughter. Adam's jaw works for a moment.
"Uh, I'll tell you when you're older," Adam tries again to estimate Archie's age and comes up with 'jailbait'. "So, what is a Protector then?"
"His Champion, technically," Allison explains a bit more and Adam really tries to see what she's talking about but yeah, the condom image is sticking despite his best efforts.
"She's like Lancelot? Only for Kris and she fights fairies for him?" Adam hazards, vaguely remembering something like that from Spamalot.
"Lancelot?" Allison says blankly. Archie whispers in her ear and she brightens up. "Yes! Lancelot, the greatest knight of Arthur's court, yes!"
Adam stares at her for a minute and wonders wistfully if there's any chance someone in the studio slipped acid into his bottled water. "I'm going to go downstairs and-...I'm going downstairs. You want anything?"
"Water?" Kris pokes his head out from under the pillow to look hopefully up at Adam.
"Sure thing, babe," Adam looks at Allison who wraps her arms around Kris and snuggles in. "Back in a second."
Archie flies after him and Adam stops on the stairs to look up at him. "You need something, kiddo? I can carry a bottle of water all by myself, I promise."
"Adam?" Cook sticks his head out of his room because Adam's day didn't suck enough already. "Who're yo-Holy shit!"
Archie eeps. Literally makes this little eep like a baby kitten. Then he dives behind Adam, as if Cook might forget he was there. Then he starts apologizing. "Oh my gosh, oh my heck, oh my god, I'm so sorry, oh my gosh-"
Cook is still staring at him and Adam closes his eyes and drops his head to thump against the banister. He really, really wants to get drunk and there's like, zero chance that Seth or any of the other security guards are going to make a run to the local bar for him. Not on the night before the final.
"Archie," he says, waving a hand towards Cook. "Meet David Cook. Cook, this is David Archuleta, better known as Archie. Try not to terrorize him too much."
"Adam," Cook says carefully, "That's a fairy!?"
"He's right there, you know," Adam points out. "And yeah, he's a fairy."
"...the everloving fuck?" Cook demands eloquently. "Why do you have a fairy following you around, Lambert?"
"I was just asking him that," Adam points out and Archie babbles another stream of apologies, peeking out around Adam. Cook comes out onto the landing and leans over the railing to look at him and Adam can actually see the moment when Cook falls for the big eyes and the lip-biting cute. His shocked expression softens into something warmer and he actually leans past Adam to get a better look at Archie who has subsided into a mortified and miserable silence.
"Wow, you're kinda adorable, aren't you?" Cook has that lopsided half-smile that Adam alternates between wanting to punch and thinking it's sorta cute. Archie eeps again and Adam has to move fast to catch him when he tries to hide behind his wings. Cook lunges to catch Archie, far too late but Adam has him.
"Y'okay?" He asks, because Archie is shaking and going red and he's even tinier than Kris and Adam is really hoping he didn't actually crush Kris' childhood friend or whatever Archie is to him. Cook comes down the stairs to look at Archie who is nodding furiously and apologizing again.
Adam watches Cook, wonders if he looked that enraptured the first time he saw Kris. Cook's still got a small half-smile playing around his lips and he's staring at Archie who is still a little curled up, still red and still apologizing Adam thinks for a second then mentally shrugs and raises his voice. "Kris? Does Archie come with an off switch or do I just wait for him to pass out from lack of oxygen?"
Kris' head pops out of Adam's room and he ducks back when he sees Cook, peering out more cautiously a second later. Adam lifts his hand a little, biting back a laugh when Cook straightens up a little to follow him and Kris covers his eyes with a hand. Then he ducks back into the room and comes back out with Allison trailing after him. He's also carrying the rolled up pizza menu and he shrugs when Adam arches an eyebrow.
Kris lands easily on Adam's shoulder, Allison pounces on Kris' back and Adam has to work really hard to not burst out laughing at Cook's slack-jawed stare. "Kris, you know Cook, right?"
"Hey, good to meet you," Kris waves, trying to balance Allison and hold out his hand at the same time. "I'm Kris Allen."
"Kris? Adam's boyfriend Kris?" Cook asks and Adam twitches, glowering warningly at Cook.
"Boyfriend?" Kris blinks, and Adam can't judge his expression from this close and he's going to fucking kill Cook. "Adam told you I was his boyfriend?"
"Well, he was on the phone to you like every chance he got," Cook pauses to look at Adam's murderous expression and gets a little more hesitant. "Isn't he your boyfriend?"
Adam says nothing and Kris pats his neck and changes the subject. "Anyway, you've met my squire, Archie," Archie nods and Kris points a thumb over his shoulder. "My Wytch, Allison Irehata."
"Nice to meetcha," Allison says and waves. "We're thinking pizza, you want in?"
"You just had like three pizzas," Adam points out, a little resentfully. Fairy metabolisms are just so not fair. Then he remembers that Kris hasn't eaten properly for the last week because Adam hasn't been around to order food and feels like a jerk.
"You're a witch?" Cook says, gaping a little at Allison in her flamboyant colors and fierce red hair.
"Yup," she beams at him and Cook looks non-plussed. Adam takes the menu Kris is holding out.
"Pepperoni okay?"
They wind up in the kitchen, clustered around the counter and Cook is still openly fascinated by the three fairies and he's asking a load of questions. Adam feels like he should be paying attention but he's grumpy and snappish. Kris stays on his shoulder until the pizza arrives. Adam hangs around long enough to grab a slice or two before pleading exhaustion and going up to grab a shower.
He spends too long in the shower, just staring at his hands flat on the wall and working really fucking hard not to cry. Allison and Archie haven't come out and said it but Kris is a Crown Prince and if Archie and Allison are any indication, his people love him to bits and Kris can go home. And Adam's an absolute, rotten asshole because he wishes that they hadn't saved the other two. He'd have fucking stayed home and practiced all night if that meant Kris wasn't going to leave.
It's really, really amazing how fast his day's gone to shit and Adam can't remember how it felt to be so full of hope and confidence that everything was going to be beautiful and wonderful and right.
He has to get out eventually, hair dripping and skin wrinkled and he dries off and pulls on boxers before scrubbing savagely at his hair and stomping out into the bedroom. Kris is waiting for him, hands tangled together in his lap and chewing on his lip. Adam looks around but there's no sign of the other two (or Cook, which is a relief).
"Hey," Kris says cautiously, looking up.
"Hey," Adam tosses the towel aside and finger-combs his hair. It's going to be wild tomorrow. "Just the two of us?"
It's meant to be a joke but Kris bites his lip and his eyes skitter away before he takes a deep breath and looks back up at Adam. "Yeah. They're staying in Anoop's room tonight. Cook found some spare sheets. I-uh, I asked them to give us some privacy."
"Not worrying or anything," Adam's skin is prickling, uncomfortable and his stomach is squeezing.
"I-we need to talk," Kris says, looking down at his hands, then back up. "Before Allison goes back to tell my family."
"About what?" Adam winces at his own sharp tone but he's only barely holding things together and now Kris expects him to talk about it?
"About what's going to happen when my family know I'm alive," Kris says.
"What's to talk about?" Adam turns to grab up a hairbrush and sits at the dresser to try and straighten out his hair. He really, really needs something that he can fix right now. "You're going back to your family and your castle and your-your Katy. I'm going to be a rock star. Nothing to talk about."
"But-" Kris says hesitantly and Adam shakes his head viciously.
"No, we are not talking about this."
"Adam-"
"Kris, I swear to god, if you don't stop, I'm going to sleep in Anoop's room."
"I-" Adam glares at Kris' reflection and Kris' shoulders drop, wings sagging on to the plain white bedspread in a golden splash. "Okay, no talking about it. I get it, I get it. I promise, okay?"
"Good," Adam says and turns his attention back to fixing his hair, trying to ignore the reflected image of Kris huddled miserably on the bed. There's a long, uncomfortable silence, with the swish of Adam's brush through his hair the only sound. Adam draws it out as long as he can but even flat-ironing every hair individually doesn't take forever.
When Adam stands up, Kris is rubbing at his eyes. He tips his head up to meet Adam's eyes. "I'm not going to make you talk-"
"Like you could," Adam scoffs automatically and there's a glint in Kris' eyes that suggest he might not wanna put that to the test.
"-but I want to ask you, ...I want..." Kris squares his shoulders and looks up. "I want-"
Before Adam can ask what the hell Kris is talking about, Kris shakes his head. "No, you said no talking, so I'm not asking, okay?"
"Ok-ay," Adam parrots back, bewilderment drowning out the irritable misery for a second. Kris closes his eyes and the dim, ever-present glow around him gets brighter and bigger and there's a soft whoosh of air and Kris-
Adam jerks back a step because Kris is still sitting on the bed, but it's sagging under him. His wings, still loose and drooping, spill off the bed and he's...he's huge.
Not, like, huge-huge but he's something like ten times his normal size and the whirring gears in Adam's brain lock and he's staring. Kris stands up, a little unsteady and his wings flare out a little to catch his balance. His clothes have scaled up with him, more or less, popping at the seams and his shirt buttons are probably lost forever. He's still smaller than Adam, like six inches or something and Adam's stuck, frozen in the rattling loop of 'holy shit' and 'Fuck me'.
He's always known that Kris was gorgeous - that isn't a surprise but there's a difference between Kris' adorable when he fitted into Adam's pocket and the clean, perfect lines of his face when he fits into Adam's arms. Kris kisses him, eyes wide and determined and Adam responds automatically; hot boy kissing him is an automatic trigger. But Kris isn't like the pretty, fucked-up twinks; he's sweet and clumsy and so open that Adam's toppling, falling and then it's literal falling and Kris jerks underneath him, breaking the kiss and they're sprawled out on the bed.
Kris is panting, lips already pink and slick and fuck, that's hot. His wings are fanned out under him and Adam's hand runs along the silk-soft surface. It's smooth, warm and soft as the worn plaid of Kris' favorite shirts. Adam wants to feel Kris' skin and he's clumsy, fumbling but he still gets Kris naked and pinned to the bed in under thirty seconds. Adam props himself up on his elbow and just stares.
Kris writhes and tries to pull Adam down, wings spreading flat against the sheets and quivering. He's gorgeous, ripped and solid and beautiful. Adam spreads his hand against the wing and it's hot, warmer than Kris' skin and quivering in time with Kris' racing pulse. Kris rocks up, hip-to-hip and whining. His head tips back to bare his neck and Adam leans in to close his lips over the thrumming pulse just above his collarbone.
Kris is crazy responsive, quicksilver hot and needy under Adam's hands and against his skin and Adam's sucked in like an undertow, brain shorted out and he's already addicted to the way Kris' breath catches when Adam touches him, the rising whine when Adam kisses him. The smooth lines, the pink shapes against golden skin.
He gets a hand around Kris' dick, curved and hard. Kris goes still, eyes huge and dark as Adam runs his fingers up along the vein on the underside. He's softer, skin looser than Adam expects and Adam rubs his thumb around the head and the extra skin. Kris jitters and moans something Southern in the key of 'please'. Adam licks his lips and swallows at Kris' artless sprawl, hips twitching up into Adam's hand, breathless begging and Adam has to get a hand around the base of his own dick and squeeze.
"Please," Kris chants, hands frantic against Adam's back, his arms, his hair. "Please, Adam, please."
Adam fumbles in the bedside drawer, fingers closing around the twisted tube and thank god for force of habit and Brad for insisting that there should always, always be lube. Especially in the Idol mansion. Adam's senses ratchet up a hundred percent as he coaxes Kris' legs open. He's hyper sensitive to every hitch, every catch in Kris' breathing and there's something crazy-intense about the way their eyes lock and Kris is so stupidly, wonderfully open, everything showing through those huge brown eyes.
Kris is hot, too hot to be real and so tight that Adam thinks it's going to be game over before they even get started and time blurs together in a churn of sensation and Kris' panting breath, the unexpected strength in his arms and the legs that bracket Adam's hips.
Adam's brain stops functioning altogether when he slides into Kris, there's just need and want and moving together like there's a live wire hooking them together. Adam actually blacks out when he comes and they lie there, panting and tangled and sweating and Kris' wings are fanning the air lazily. Adam's crushing him into the mattress and he should be moving but he can't make himself breathe at the thought of letting go.
He's half-asleep, breathing easy and his pulse slowing to a normal tempo, when Kris leans up, lips brushing the curve of Adam's ear. "I want to see you win. I'm not going until after you win."
Adam should say something but he's fucked his brains out and he can be coherent, he just needs to sleep first.
Adam wakes late in the morning when Janice, one of the PAs, bangs on his door. "Forty minutes, Adam!"
Adam flails and falls out of bed and he's tacky and gross and he stumbles into the shower and only really wakes up about halfway through conditioning his hair. His first conscious thought is Holy fucking shit!, then Kris and he races through his shower and comes hurrying out in a towel. The bed is rumpled and still-warm and the covers are all bundled up into a cocoon.
Janice barges in before Adam can unwind what had better be a Kris-cocoon and he has to get dressed. He kinda hates her for that, even if she did get him up in time to do his hair. He does hate her when she stays to make sure he's fixing his hair and getting dressed. Getting dressed with an audience isn't a new experience but Janice is a little too attentive and it really freaks him out.
She leaves at last, warning him that the car'll be in front in five minutes and if his butt is not in the backseat, he'll have to jog to the studio. The humidity, she adds, is ridiculously high today. Adam paints on a sickly-sweet smile and promises to be there.
Kris is still in bed, deeply asleep and Adam's jeans somehow shrink like three sizes when he pulls back the covers to see Kris, still super-sized, sprawled bonelessly out across the rumpled sheets. His neck is dotted with red marks starting to shade into pale washed-out blue bruises. His wings fan out, covering his waist and down past mid-thigh in a coy tease that makes Kris look like some sort of cheeky gay pin-up.
Adam stares for a minute, maybe two. Three at the outside. Then he tries to wake Kris up and wow, Adam is so used to Kris being the morning person that he's forgotten that Kris is a bitch to wake.
Kris finally cracks one weary brown eye and Adam's breath snags in his throat at the subdued misery behind the well-fucked haze. He bites his lip, tasting the tacky lip gloss that Brad bought him as a joke during their shopping trips for Burning Man. "Hey, how're you doing?"
Kris huffs and his eye half-closes again. "I'm gonna sleep on my belly for a bit but I'm good. Seriously, it was worth it," he adds when Adam tenses up guiltily. "It was...it was incredible. Really. I'm...glad we did, uh, it."
Adam strokes a hand down the curve of Kris' spine. "How did I not know you could do this?"
"I couldn't do it by myself. It's, kinda tricky and uh," Kris arches, pressing up into Adam's hand. "I, it only lasts about twelve hours and it takes, like, a stupid amount of power so I needed Allison to help me."
"Huh," Adam rubs his thumb across the bump of Kris' spine, right between his wings which makes them quiver. "So, listen, after...after the show. You and me. We need to-to talk. Okay?"
Kris' eyes slit open again and his voice is wary. "Thought you didn't want to talk."
"I didn't," Adam admits, spreading his fingers so he can stroke Kris' wings. "But, sometimes? I'm an idiot. We do need to talk and I'd hang around but-"
"-But the car just arrived and you gotta go," Kris finishes.
"Yeah," Adam sighs, hesitates for a second, then leans in to press their lips together. It's a proper first kiss, shy and chaste and a little clumsy. "But tonight, you'll wait until we talk, right?"
"If it means that much to you," Kris agrees easily, back tensing under Adam's hand. "I guess it shouldn't be a problem."
"Awesome," Adam says honestly and brushes a kiss to the back of Kris' neck. "I'll see you tonight then, all right?"
"Yeah," Kris promises, burrowing back into his pillow and Adam draws the covers up over him and has to run downstairs to make it before the car leaves without him. He's jittery, fingers tapping out a staccato beat and for the first time ever, it isn't the prospect of getting voted off that's making him nervous.
Next
"So," Brad says after they have agreed that David Cook is an asshole and Adam can totally take him. "I call custody."
"What?" Adam, Cassidy and Kris say together.
"You are not sending Tinkerbell back to hang around that empty apartment all alone," Brad declares. "He needs company and I have a drawer free."
Adam hears Kris' faint "Dick!" and the sound of someone (hopefully Brad) getting thumped. "Why do you get to have Kris? I could totally keep him here, I have, like, a whole hotel room."
"You sent us pictures," Brad reminds him. "It's beige, bitch. Where exactly were you thinking you'd hide Tiny and Glittery here?"
"That's not the point," Adam whines, flopping back on his bed and wincing when his belt digs into his kidneys. "You do not get to poach my room-mate just because I'm..."
"Living the dream?" Brad says sugar-sweet and faux-charming. "You knew there'd be sacrifices, baby."
"Yeah, but-" Adam snaps petulantly then trails off because he's supposed to be a fucking adult. He's not supposed to be sulking this badly just because he can't have his best friend living with him while he tries to make it as a rockstar.
"I know it's hard, babe, but it'll be worth it. You've come so far already." Cassidy says reassuringly and then spoils it by adding "And I'll take good care of Kris, I promise."
The ensuing bitch-fight is hilarious and Adam is sorta smiling when Kris absconds with the phone and retreats to what sounds like the balcony. "So, um, are you sure I can't just stay with you? Or the apartment?"
Adam bites his lip and it takes a supreme effort of will to be a grown-up about this but he manages. Barely. "I don't like the idea of you being alone, baby. I wish you could be here but..."
Kris sighs heavily and Adam swears that he can hear his wings drooping. "I know. It just, y'know, sucks." There's another, heavier sigh and Adam feels a little better at Kris' obviously bummed tone. "I miss you."
"Miss you too, babe." Adam manages through a suddenly choked-up throat. "Tell those two to settle this like adults and don't stay up all night, okay?"
"...you want them to have a drinking match?" Kris says dry and a little rough. "What have I done to you lately?"
Adam laughs and there's someone knocking on the door to tell him it's lights out. Adam thanks her and says goodnight to Kris, opening his smaller bag to pull out his t-shirt and sweatpants. Something small and plastic falls out and bounces under the bed. Curious (and kinda desperately hoping Brad didn't pack sex-toys), Adam roots it out. It's a small yellow Tinkerbell night-light.
He stares at it for a few minutes, eyes prickling and a huge goofy smile across his face. Then Adam wipes his eyes and adds a reminder to his phone to buy Brad a kick-ass Christmas present. He plugs the night-light in over the dresser and goes to sleep.
Idol turns out to be real work which maybe shouldn't be such a surprise. Adam feels like a kid in a candy store, bouncing around from technicians to mentors to the backing musicians (who buy him booze if he chips into the Idol-pot). There's so much to learn and he spends half the night on the phone to Kris and whichever of Adam's friends is currently enjoying custody raving about the whole thing.
Kris has figured out how to use the auto-dialer to vote multiple times for Adam and his friends have started holding viewing parties and there's a few vague mentions of his mom which Adam tries not to think too hard about. She and his Dad call every evening too and Neil keeps getting his voice mail and has started leaving some really weird messages.
It helps to have a hundred million calls every day and Kris always free to take his calls because the other Idols are awkward. There's a girl, Megan who Adam actually gets along with and she's pretty much the only thing keeping him sane. He and Cook are still sniping at each other and it's complicated by the fact that they guy's actually pretty much Adam's main rival. He's got a cool voice, he's (sorta) hot and he's pretty laid-back and cool.
He's also the world's biggest dickhead (not that Adam is biased or anything).
He's hanging out with Michael Johns mostly. Somehow, he still finds the time to back up Mike Sarver and Danny who have this careful ostracism dance going on and it fucking sucks. Adam's long since out of the habit of apologizing for his existence but every second spent having to deal with Danny's big faux-jovial smirk and the sly whispers from him and Sarver is an inch closer to an actual ulcer. Cook isn't really part of that but having picked his side in this whole clusterfuck, he seems determined to stick to it.
Adam winds up making friends with two of the other guys despite everything; Matt and Anoop who are both 'straight' (gaydar says: bi-curious) but honestly seem to think that Danny's going too far, rather than that this is a surefire way into Adam's pants. It's enough to keep Adam going through the first few weeks.
The judges honestly don't seem to know what to do with him. Randy pauses a lot and seems to be picking his words really carefully. Paula watches him like she's expecting him to do something really outrageous. Simon seems to like him just because everyone else is panicking at the potential train-wreck that is a gay Idol. He might also actually believe Adam is that talented. Adam thinks, either way, when this is over, he probably owes Simon a fruit basket.
The weekly votes are harrowing; he's good enough that he can sail through the first few weeks even if he's a nervous wreck by the end of each show. It's crazy and he's killing it every time. He's one of the first to make it to safety every week. Paula comes around too, singing his praises and complimenting him on the weirdest things.
He and David Cook avoid each other religiously. They're pretty much trading off top spot week by week and it turns out that Cook is really kinda competitive. As much as Adam hates to admit to having anything in common with his 'nemesis', they are both going into the weekly performances aiming to beat each other. It pushes Adam to his limits and Kris starts to sound a little worried when they talk at night.
It's doing wonders for the ratings, Brad tells him, because underneath the glitter, Brad is a statistics geek. Adam doesn't really follow the figures but it doesn't surprise him. The song choices are always polar opposites, he's getting asked so many leading questions in his solo slots and he and Cook are always kept apart during the publicity shots. Ryan is practically smacking his lips over the growing tension between them when they and the other finalists move into the Idol Mansion. Adam spends the night before on the phone to Kris, paranoid that they're going to try and lump him with Cook.
"The ratings would be massive," he mourns. "They've been thinking about this since Sarver got eliminated, I just know they have."
"If they're worrying about you being gay damaging the 'family-friendly' image, I'm fairly sure that they aren't going to want actual live-on-camera murder happening in the mansion." Kris points out logically. "They're greedy but they're not stupid."
Kris is excited because the week after next, Adam actually gets to go home for a weekend and he's full of plans. Adam approves of the ones involving sleep, Kris' cooking and Kris. He winds up owing Kris ice-cream because Kris is right. Despite the potential ratings bonanza, he's sharing a room with Matt.
It's a good week and Adam's feeling awesome. Then Matt is eliminated and god, it fucking sucks. He's made it to the Top 10 and he tells Adam that that means a recording contract which is all he really wanted. Adam hugs him and helps him carry his bags out and hugs him and makes him promise to call.
Then he goes upstairs and calls Kris so he doesn't notice how empty the room feels. Kris does most of the talking, telling him about how Cassidy sewed felt hearts on the inside of Brad's boxers and how Brad was worrying that one of his ex-boyfriends might have stolen a memory card.
Yeah, in retrospect, Adam definitely should have been paying more attention to that.
So, the pictures leak on Wednesday night, really Thursday morning and Adam wakes up to a PR meltdown. The Idol staff are almost hysterical; not because they didn't know Adam was gay (that was just never going to work) or because Adam himself has done anything that could constitute a breach of his contract (Adam's pretty sure the legal department has checked, then double-checked on that). No, they're running damage control because, to Adam's honest amazement, firing him is not only not an option, it would apparently make everything so much worse.
There have been some people calling in to complain which, okay, Adam was kinda braced for. What he wasn't expecting was that some of his internet fans have organized mass phone-ins urging 19 and FOX to support him. Adam winds up in meetings, the whole day which really, really screws with his performance rehearsals.
"Okay, so the cat is out of the bag," one of the producers says at last. "We don't want this to become the big issue. This is a distraction and we can't afford to get mired in this. We don't dwell on this, we say 'yeah okay, Lambert's gay but have you heard him sing?', understand?"
It's possibly the only time in Adam's life that he has wished he wasn't such an awesome performer. He nods, he smiles and he bites his tongue on every vicious, emotional response before it can get past his teeth. He leaves them smiling and talking about playing up Idol's inclusive nature and the goodwill they're going to get from 'minority' groups.
Adam totters up to his room, winds up sitting with his back against the bed and his knees drawn up as he breathes. He feels soured and cheapened by the whole thing and he's tempted to just crawl into the shower and scrub until the soiled feeling goes away. Instead he fumbles out his phone and presses speed-dial.
"Hello?" Kris' voice is bright and Adam's breath shudders out. "Adam? What is it? Are you okay?"
"I-" Adam swallows. "Honestly, baby, I don't know. I don't think- I think I'm fucking this up."
"Tell me about it," Kris says, serious and supportive and Adam opens his mouth and it all comes pouring out. Every doubt, the way he keeps skipping food because there are seriously cameras everywhere, that Meg's freaking out about next week and the room feels ridiculously empty. It isn't until Kris gently points out that Adam hasn't slept alone for the last ten years that Adam realities why.
"And I fucking miss you," Adam says at last, voice rasping and his eyeliner is probably smeared all over his face but he feels better, more centered. "It's been like a month and I'm calling you all the time but it's not the same."
"I'd hope not," Kris says with a smile that Adam can almost see. "Can't replace me that easily, man."
"You're coming on Friday, yeah?" Adam says and Kris hums. "I'm serious - I will skip the clubbing if it means that I can see you."
"Such a sacrifice," Kris teases.
"Damn right," Adam says primly. "Seriously, though, you are going to be there."
"Wouldn't miss it," Kris promises. "You should get some sleep. I'm going to be really demanding company."
"Well, I knew that," Adam laughs around a yawn. "I don't wanna hang up yet."
"I'll sing you to sleep," Kris offers which means that he doesn't want to hang up either. Adam hums agreement and Kris starts to sing 'May it be'.
"You've been watching Lord of the Rings again," Adam accuses sleepily and Kris laughs, threading it into the song and Adam slips into dreams of Brad with hairy feet and Kris in a flowing white dress.
He wakes up with the dial tone burring against his ear and a crick in his neck. He feels fantastic.
Friday is odd; the official story has been handed out and the other five Idols are watching him with wide eyes. Anoop has coffee waiting for him and when Adam thanks him, shrugs a shoulder and says "That producer was a dick. I wanted to kick him after five minutes. You were in meetings for five hours with him. You deserve coffee."
Adam hugs him, one-armed so he doesn't spill the coffee. "That's so sweet."
"Hey, some of us," Anoop wriggles away and smooths out his shirt. "Are planning to take advantage of the fact that you've just broken millions of hearts. There are women out there in need of love and support and I'm just the guy to help them through this difficult time."
Adam loses it, laughing so hard he does spill some coffee. He's still smiling when he troops in to hear all about the theme for this week. It's Country and Western and Adam doesn't even care that he knows like one song that could fit under that category because it's Friday and that means that in just a few hours, Adam is going to have a Kris.
He bounces out of the mansion, waving to Johns who is standing beside Cook. He keeps smiling even when Cook makes a weirded out face and waves hesitantly back. He's got a bag slung over his shoulder and has already texted Brad to warn him that he's going to pillage his dresser and eyeliner stash.
"You heading out?" Johns asks unnecessarily.
"Yup," Adam grins. "My friends are forgetting what I look like."
"No televisions?" Cook says but it's more joke than insult and it bounces harmlessly off Adam's invincible good cheer.
"Some of them have actual lives, Cook," he says loftily. "Shocking as it may seem."
He hops into the car that's going to drop him to Cassidy's apartment Cassidy is current custody holder (according to the arcane schedule Alisan emailed him) which means Kris will be there.
About two miles away, Adam winds down the screen between them and says "I know I gave you an address but actually-" because he was stupid. Kris isn't going to be waiting in Cassidy's apartment for him.
Adam bounds up the creaky stairs to their apartment and the door is open by the time he makes it up the last flight. Kris peeks out from behind the open door and zips across the landing to latch onto Adam's neck. Adam drops his bag and reaches up to cradle Kris and his smile threatens to split his face. "Hey, baby."
"Hey," Kris says, muffled and not letting go. "You're home."
"Yeah," Adam says, hugging him close and kicking the door closed. "Yeah, I am."
Kris does eventually lets go but he keeps circling back to settle on Adam's shoulder or poke his arm while the pots simmer. Adam tells him all about the other Idol wannabes and the music and the all the little things that he's been hoarding up to share like this, where he can see Kris sputter and blush and smile. Kris looks a little thinner but Adam doesn't really think he's in any place to point fingers.
They go out much later, not to one of the usual clubs but to a small bar run by one of Cassidy's friends. It's one of those almost local bars with live music and sheltered booths where Kris can sit on the table and take part in the conversation. Adam relaxes and just basks in it.
He falls into bed, lulled to sleep by Kris' breathing from the pillow by his bed. Adam wakes late, slouches around the kitchen while Kris makes him an utterly unhealthy breakfast with eggs and bacon and non-whole-wheat toast. He doesn't shower until like three and he bums around in scruffy, frayed jeans and a worn-out sequined upcycled t-shirt that Cassidy played around with for most of the afternoon.
"Bum," Kris teases, zipping past to hover over the coffee machine.
"No cameras in this kitchen, baby," Adam points out, sipping at the smoothie Kris had made him. "I'm enjoying this while it lasts."
"It's really screwing with you, isn't it?" Kris settles on his shoulder, wings brushing Adam's cheek.
"It's not that bad," Adam lies. "It isn't, it's just wearing me out. There's like no time to call you." Kris politely doesn't call bullshit on that one and Adam waves a hand. "Not as much as I'd like to talk to you. I'm spoiled back here, that's all."
"Mmm," Kris makes popcorn and they watch all three X-men films from a cocoon of blankets and cushions on the rug.
Sunday flies past, Adam gets in some quality time with the rest of his friends to talk about the show and the word on the streets (or internets, in this case). He also gets to offer some choice words about the care and feeding of his fairy which makes Brad laugh and Cassidy throw peanuts at him.
He finds out why when he gets back to the Mansion and tosses his bag onto his beds.
"Oof!" the bag says. Adam double-takes and pokes it. Kris pops out, hair mussed up and wild.
"The fuck?" Adam asks eloquently, flailing a little.
"You've been lonely," Kris says, like he didn't just sneak in Adam's bag. "And you don't have a room-mate any more."
Adam opens his mouth to argue before his brain kicks in to ask what the fuck he's arguing for? Kris is here and Adam can feel the looming tension drop just from that. It isn't going to be fun for Kris but there's a double elimination looming and three weeks tops after that and Adam's suddenly sure that he's going to be here for the whole of those three weeks.
Kris joins him in the shower and they rock through the greatest hits of Abba before Adam has to run to do his hair and make-up before the drivers arrive to take them to rehearsals Kris tidies the room and sneaks downstairs for snacks. He's got his phone and, judging by the busy signals Adam's getting from Cassidy and Brad, he's talking to people plenty. Adam smiles to himself and turns to considering his choice of songs. He has it down to three before the practice time runs out.
Adam promises to have an actual, honest-to-god song tomorrow and they pile into the limo and Johns goes straight for the champagne and starts talking about next show.
"You picked your song?" Kris asks when Adam retreats to his room.
"I'm not sure," Adam taps his fingers. "I'm thinking Johnny Cash actually."
"You could do the Fire song," Kris says, smile badly hidden.
"'Ring of Fire', you mean?" Adam teases. "You're a philistine."
It's not like Kris doesn't know most of Cash's songs - he plays along when Adam's singing - but he and Brad had a very heated disagreement about it at Burning Man and it's been 'the Fire song' ever since. Adam laughs and it's so normal that it borders on the surreal.
He sings through his personal version of it, Kris strumming along and joining in to add his own rougher voice to the chorus. Adam lets the last note trail off and opens his eyes. Kris sets his guitar down and looks up at him,.
"Yeah," Adam says, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm going to do that one."
"Awesome," Kris says simply.
He rocks the performance that week, "Ring of Fire" goes down a storm and even Simon is left pretty much speechless. He keeps blinking at Adam like Adam's really done something that extraordinary which is flattering and freaky in about equal measure. Adam's used to Simon being sardonic and back-handed with the compliments, the honest approval is something else altogether. Adam's smile might be a permanent fixture.
Adam's the first one across the stage and he's riding such an epic high that he doesn't even care when Ryan sends Cook to join him a minute later. There's a shockwave of nervous energy sparking just inside his skin and Adam has to focus really hard on keeping still and relaxed. Anoop and Johns bite the dust, Megan only just saved and Adam hugs her and there's tears, lots of tears.
When they get back to the mansion, someone (Kris) has smuggled in half a liquor cabinet; vodka, Malibu, Kahlua and the ice trays have been topped up. Adam, channeling his barista past, offers to make Megan any cocktail she can describe. Anoop objects on the grounds that he clearly needs more booze than Meg and Adam winds up giving him a half pint glass filled with enough alcohol to strip paint off the ceiling overhead.
It goes downhill from there. Or maybe uphill. Adam's far too drunk to care.
He wakes up in his own bed and thanks God for small mercies as he scrambles for the bathroom and his toothbrush. Judging by the taste, something small, acrid and hairy died in his mouth last night and Adam's stomach, already uneasy after the whole 'getting up' thing, lurches and threatens to turn itself inside out. He hangs onto the marble sink and wonders dimly if he can lean over to throw up into the toilet without toppling face-first into the fittings.
There's a glass of water and four Tylenol beside his toothbrush and a travel-sized bottle of the mouthwash Brad's mom sends him from time to time and Alisan christened the 'Hell in a Bottle'. Adam brushes his teeth, drinks the water, takes the pills and washes his mouth out, saying a feverent prayer of thanks for benevolent fairies and their magic.
By the time he's showered and staggered muzzily back out into the bedroom, Adam's thawing towards a semblance of humanity. "Kris, have you seen-"
"Kris?" David Cook mumbles, head lifting from the pillows on what used to be Matt's bed. "'M not Kris. I'm....David?"
"Sorry, sorry," Adam has one hand anchored around the corner of his towel. "I'm having room-mate flashbacks."
"Didn't you used to room with Matt?" Cook asks as he tries and fails to sit up. "I don't remember a Kris."
"No, Kris is my roommate from home," Adam says, clinging to his towel like a lifeline and floundering frantically through his memories of last night to explain what the everloving fuck David Cook is doing in his room. "He's the one with a ridiculous alcohol tolerance so he's the designated adult."
"Designated adult?" Cook rolls over and yeah, bloodshot eyes, disheveled hair and all the signs of what must have been an epic binge. There's a glass of water by the bedside; Kris again because he's never stopped being the perfect Southern stereotype when it comes to niceness.
"Yeah, he says it's easy just to work around me after a late night," Adam's peering around as surreptitiously as he can. No sign of Kris, which means he's probably hiding until Cook wakes up enough to fuck off. There's a thread of anger in Adam's fuzzy brain; Cook's intruding. Cook's making Kris hide away like a dirty secret and Adam's ruffled, not angry - yet - but working his way up there. He wants Cook to go away. Short-term, Adam would be happy if he could just stay down long enough for Adam to grab his clothes and make it back to the bathroom.
"Man, sounds like he's a saint," Cook makes it more or less upright, swaying a lot but sort of steady. He looks green. "We don't have to be at studio today, right?"
Adam's lips quirk despite himself at the plaintive tone. "Not 'til later, no."
"Oh, thank God," Cook mumbles and starts to shuffle for the door. Adam grabs up the small pile of fresh clothes and backs into the bathroom as soon as Cook's back is turned.
It's a quiet day, everyone deep in contemplation of their hangovers. Anoop makes Adam promise to email him the mix for the paint-peeling cocktail and Johns insists on getting his number because he and his wife are moving to LA and Adam can have his own wing in their house if he willing to supply cocktails at barbecues and house parties. It's kinda sweet, actually.
Adam smuggles Kris into the studios by judicious use of hoody and Kris' unfeigned and absolute delight makes it worth having to record three identical versions of the same song because the producer is feeling artistic (or malicious, Adam's not sure). Kris sings with him that night, perched on the windowsill and staring out at the lights while Adam drowses on the bed.
"It's so bright," Kris says, wondering and wistful and Adam hums. "From here, it kinda looks like..."
"Like?" Adam prompts, hovering on the edge of sleep because Kris' tone is setting off warning bells.
"Like home," Kris says and the surprise pushes back his exhaustion enough that Adam can open one eye. "The lights and the...the energy, I guess? Back home, there's always someone starting their day. If the dryads are asleep, the dwarves'll start work. I used to spend the night by the windows when I couldn't sleep and my mom would come sometimes and sit with me and tell me who was awake and what they were doing. It's still weird that the stars stay the same but it's close enough, you know?"
Adam knows a little about home-sickness, enough to know the way the unfamiliar can be warped into something dear with just a lot of desperation and the need to not be only one alone in a new place. He lifts a hand, feeling like someone's packed lead under his skin and mumbles a little.
Kris' wings flex in a nervous flutter. "It's-...I-...Ten years, nearly. I thought it would be easier to miss it now."
Adam hears him, tone registering more than words but he's so fucking shattered and Kris doesn't talk about his family so Adam doesn't know what to say, how to make this right and his eyes won't stay open. Kris is singing something slow and bittersweet as Adam sinks into sleep. His dreams that night are tangled, confusing and he wakes with a crick in his neck and a foul mood that survives Kris' sunny "Good morning!" and the coffee waiting for him.
He's morose through studio time and into the costuming discussion. Danny tries to ask him about it and Adam looks for cameras before he can censor himself. Megan is furiously focused and Adam thinks she might be over-stressing it and Cook is just watching him with unfocused intensity and Adam wants them to go away and give him time to process.
Because Fate hates him, this is the point at which his life gets crazy. The demands of the publicity people ramp up, there's a hundred and one interviews and if it wasn't for Casey the awesome PA, Adam wouldn't even know who's he's supposed to be talking to. Studio time becomes gold dust, not just because Ryan and the production team keep casually dropping viewing numbers and projected ratings and even Cook is starting to sweat under the scrutiny. In the studio means that you're not available for interviews or soundbites or soulful one-on-one sessions with the cameras.
"She's not going to make it," Kris says sadly when Adam gets back to his room, frazzled and punch-drunk with exhaustion. The rerun of tonight's show is winding up on the small TV screen. "Is she?"
"I don't know," Adam says, then sighs. "Probably, though."
"She seems really nice," Kris is watching as the camera skims past Megan and Adam winces at how plastic her smile looks.
"She is," Adam says honestly and bites his tongue on the whole argument about this contest not being for the nicest person and the music industry's habit of eating the naive alive.
Meg goes home the next night and there's more tears but less alcohol and Meg sits up with Adam until the sky is graying towards dawn. Adam hugs her, promises to keep in touch and reminds her that they still have the tour to come. Megan smiles sadly and she seems smaller, lacking some of the vital energy that Adam associates with her.
Three men standing and it hikes up the pressure, the scrutiny and Adam has to bite his tongue every time he gets within a hundred feet of Danny. He honestly did not think that it was possible for him to hate being around Danny any more than he already did. He's half-afraid that his face might be stuck in the faux-cheerful publicity smile he's been wearing.
Danny murders his Aerosmith song on Tuesday. It's actually painful to watch and Adam is sitting in the green room watching the feed from the judges' camera and he's wincing even before they get to Simon. Paula is frowning a little, mouth drawn down as she waves her hands and spends something like five minutes talking around the performance and looking for something to praise. Simon just shakes his head and sits back.
"I think Paula's complete inability to find anything worth praising in that performance says everything I wanted to say, Ryan."
Cook sings "Hey Jude" and Randy is over the moon about it, jumping around in his seat and the crowd is cheering wildly. Ryan ducks back into the green room for a bottle of water. "Boy, I'm glad we have extra security tonight."
"What? Why?" Adam is texting Kris but he looks up to see Ryan getting sweat mopped off his face and make-up artists hovering.
"The fans, man," Ryan shakes his head. "Yours specifically. Well, yours and Cook's. Cuban Missile Crisis, I'm telling you. All itchy fingers."
"...you know I still have to go out there, right?" Adam checks, thumbing 'send' and standing up.
"Oh yeah," Ryan flashes shiny white teeth at him. "Break a leg, dude."
"Oh, gee, thanks," Adam dead-pans as he puts his phone away and takes a deep breath.
The adrenaline kicks in and he blasts through the song and even before Ryan crosses the stage, Adam knows he's through. He smiles, feeling the joy and the light inside him radiating out. The audience is a unified animal, howling and cheering in one crashing tidal wave of sonic power. All that love, crazy and wild and unashamed and this, this is what he wants. This is worth the sacrifices and the hellish hours. This one perfect flawless second.
Adam rides the high all the way home and he's still soaring through the good vibe when Danny gets sent home and it's just him and Cook. The publicity ramps up again and Adam's on the other side of giddy, sleep-walking between the cameras. He's on; nailing the mood and right words and it's awesome, unreal and Adam feels like a shooting star, blazing and brilliant with everyone turning to see.
The publicity and the relentless attention during practices means that his time with Kris is skinned to the bone. Kris winds up sleeping on Adam's pillow, a tiny bundle of golden skin and amber-warm wings. The night before the final, everything hovering and just waiting to fall into place, Adam tosses his notes onto the empty bed, falls back on to his bed. "I'm done. Fuck this. I'm fucking done."
Kris looks up from where he's noodling along on his guitar, eyebrow raised. "Not 'til tomorrow, you're not."
"I'm done rehearsing," Adam clarifies, pushing up on an elbow. "It's all fine and I'm this close to being sick of everything. I need some air."
"Nearly past curfew," Kris points out but he's tucking away his guitar and fluttering across the room to land on Adam's shoulder. "Where do you wanna go?"
"Somewhere without people," Adam decides, shrugging into his scruffiest hoody. "Somewhere where you can stretch your wings and I don't have to worry about you being seen."
"In LA?" Kris mocks, hopping neatly aside then snuggling back into the folds of the collar. "There's the park?"
"Perfect," Adam grabs his wallet and phone and leaves a message for security, asking for privacy and swearing on his flat iron that he's only going to the park. Kris brings his Bluetooth headset and hooks it over Adam's ear.
"So we can talk and you won't look like a crazy person," Kris pauses and looks at Adam's scruffy hoody, ripped jeans and biking boots. "Well, more like a crazy person."
"Brains and beauty, babe," Adam grins wide and affectionate. "You're just too good to be true."
Kris laughs and Adam jogs to the park, keeping his hood up and a wary eye out for photographers and camera-phones. Security are orbiting, nodding discreetly and checking he has his phone. Adam thanks Seth, who's acting supervisor and a really cool guy, and waves goodbye until he's safely behind the perfectly manicured hedges.
He puts his hood down and Kris zips out, wings stretching out as far they go and looping high speed circles around Adam. Adam laughs himself breathless and has to prop his hands on his knees until he can catch his breath. Kris is spelling out I-D-O-L in gold and glitter and in the dense, shaded twilight between the hedges, it's magic, unreal and Adam laughs, joy bubbling up.
Then Kris freezes, light snuffing out like someone flicked a light switch and Adam's laughter strangles in his throat. Kris' eyes look huge, his body tensed and wings shivering just enough to keep him up. He's radiating wariness, fear and determination.
"Adam," and it isn't a plea, isn't an order but Adam's nodding all the same and there's a reek in the air, rotten and dead things, like fertilizer but worse. Adam thinks of rotten meat and desiccated skin and dead, decay in one putrid cloud. Kris shoots away, deeper into the hedges. There's a tree, bare black branches against the dull glow of the city lights.
The smell is thicker, almost oily against his skin and his tongue and the hedges are yellowed, browning leaves withered on the branches. The grass is sparse and dry and dead underfoot. Adam's trembling, hurrying after Kris and cataloging the wreckage of the park before them. Kris' light is flaring up again; sharp and bright like a photographer's flash but gold and Adam sees something grey and greasy and not entirely substantial. No, some things.
They were crowded around the roots of the tree, straining up to the first major fork. It looks like there are stars, dim and just visible through the twigs and the twisted branches. Kris sings, something fierce and tribal and kinda maybe folk or country overtones. The things recoil, twisting and writhing into new shapes and tangles and Adam opens his mouth and sings, threading his voice into the melody and faltering a little but putting his voice behind it and singing louder.
The smell rises, an almost visible fog then the things are coiling and sinking and oozing away into the roots of the tree and gone. Gone, thank God and Adam lets the song trail away. Kris is shining, looking fierce and noble and radiating beautiful golden light. Adam opens his mouth but before he can say anything-
"K-Kris?" A soft hesitant voice makes Adam look up at the tree.
"KRIS!?!" One of the 'stars' flares up, a rainbow of red and purple and warm colors and tones and flashes down out of the tree to plow into Kris headlong, squealing and babbling. The other 'star' follows, only a little slower and more dignified and they both latch onto Kris and there's a high, delirious chatter filling the air.
Adam hears Seth's footsteps and looks frantically around. There's nowhere to hide and his hoody is threadbare and there's no way he's going to be able to hide the light-show in progress.
"Kris," he hisses. "Oh my god, Kris! Security's coming."
Kris looks up and nods, then he bends his head to talk to the two other fairies. The chatter dies down and Kris drags them both over and tucks all three of them into Adam's hood. Adam pulls up his hood and tries to look confused (not really a stretch) and clueless (again, not a reach).
"Adam?" Seth sounds relieved and officious and he touches his earbud. "Got him. You okay? Need an ambulance? Cops?"
"No, I'm good," Adam looks around. "Thought I saw some lights or something." He shrugs at Seth's eloquent glance. "I think I've been working too hard."
"Maybe you should call it a night?" Seth suggests pointedly and Adam smiles, aiming for rueful but there's a shifting weight just against the back of his neck, soft skin and tiny hands and it's really, really fucking distracting.
They're only a couple of blocks from the mansion but Seth insists on walking him the whole way back which means Adam has to act natural the whole way. He pleads exhaustion and escapes at the front door, promising truthfully that he's going straight up to his room and he's not going to go out again tonight.
The second he's in the door, Adam pulls down his hood and the fairies tumble out to land on the bed. Kris lands, wings still half-raised and ready and he looks up to smile at Adam. Adam is far more interested in the two new fairies. They're actually smaller than Kris, a pale boy with a silver-green glow and dark hair and eyes and a pretty girl with fiery scarlet hair, dark eyes and rich royal purple wings.
Both of them are staring at Kris, wide-eyed and awed and Adam has to shove back the urge to snatch Kris up and hide him away. "Going to introduce me, baby?"
The two fairies blink up at him; the girl looks approving and the boy looks a little weirded out, backing up a little. Then he looks at Kris who is scratching the back of his neck and looking a little embarrassed. Then he looks up at Adam and his eyes go really wide.
"I'm Allison," the girl says, waving up at him. "And your eyes look amazing!"
"I like her," Adam says immediately and Kris cracks up, wings fanning out to keep his balance as he folded up around a laugh.
"Uh," the boy looks at him then at Kris. "I'm David Archuleta-"
"-but everyone calls him Archie," Kris and Allison finish in unison and Adam's eyebrow goes up.
"Oh-kay," Adam crouches down and waves two-fingers. "Good to meet you guys, I'm Adam-"
"Oh my GOD!" Allison flails a little, wings threshing around. "You're from the show! With the music and the voting!"
Archie looks blank and Kris looks wary. Allison rolls her eyes and thumps Archie on the shoulder. "The one with the posters?"
"Oh," Archie looks back up at Adam and bites his lip. "Um, well, I guess if His Highness thinks you're um, 'good people'? That's good enough for me, you know?"
"Good people?" Kris says.
"His Highness!?" Adam says at exactly the same time.
One horribly convoluted explanation later, Adam pinches his nose and holds up a hand. "So, you really are a prince?"
"The Crown Prince," Archie says helpfully from where he and Allison are working their way through the large pizza and Coke that Adam ordered in.
"The Crown Prince, right," Adam drops his hand to stare at Kris who is sitting crosslegged on his pillow. "And you didn't think to mention this because...?"
"I didn't see the point," Kris admits. "My family thought I was dead, I didn't know how to go home and it just didn't seem to matter."
"It would have been nice to know!"
"It- I wasn't Crown Prince, I couldn't be Crown Prince and I didn't want it to make things weird!" Kris waves his hands helplessly. "It wasn't important."
"But you're the Crown Prince!" Allison and Archie say around mouths full of pizza.
"I was dead," Kris corrects, "As far as anyone knew, I was dead and gone. Daniel's the Crown Prince now."
"But he sucks," Allison says after swallowing. "I mean, he's an awesome dude but he's kinda a crummy Crown Prince. He really, really doesn't want to be Crown Prince and he's kinda being a brat about it."
"Alli's right," Archie says, all solemn and mature with tomato sauce smeared around his mouth like a clown's makeup. "You are an awesome prince and everyone's been praying and hoping that you survived."
"Praying and hoping," Adam says cynically. "As opposed to actually looking for him, yes?"
"We did!" Allison objects. "Katy never stopped looking and man, she's going to be so psyched. I cannot wait to see her face!"
"Katy?" Adam asks, stomach sinking. "You had a girlfriend?"
"What? Katy? No, no, no, no, man, no." Allison is bouncing around. "Katy's his Protector."
"His what?" Adam wonders if there's any more Tylenol in the bathroom cabinet. He doesn't think he should be mixing it with the emergency booze but right now, he thinks a blackout would be beautiful. His mind, which hates him, offers the picture of a butch looking condom and Adam really, really hates his brain. "Is that like a condom?"
"What's a condom?" Archie asks and Kris has to burrow under the pillow to hide the hysterical laughter. Adam's jaw works for a moment.
"Uh, I'll tell you when you're older," Adam tries again to estimate Archie's age and comes up with 'jailbait'. "So, what is a Protector then?"
"His Champion, technically," Allison explains a bit more and Adam really tries to see what she's talking about but yeah, the condom image is sticking despite his best efforts.
"She's like Lancelot? Only for Kris and she fights fairies for him?" Adam hazards, vaguely remembering something like that from Spamalot.
"Lancelot?" Allison says blankly. Archie whispers in her ear and she brightens up. "Yes! Lancelot, the greatest knight of Arthur's court, yes!"
Adam stares at her for a minute and wonders wistfully if there's any chance someone in the studio slipped acid into his bottled water. "I'm going to go downstairs and-...I'm going downstairs. You want anything?"
"Water?" Kris pokes his head out from under the pillow to look hopefully up at Adam.
"Sure thing, babe," Adam looks at Allison who wraps her arms around Kris and snuggles in. "Back in a second."
Archie flies after him and Adam stops on the stairs to look up at him. "You need something, kiddo? I can carry a bottle of water all by myself, I promise."
"Adam?" Cook sticks his head out of his room because Adam's day didn't suck enough already. "Who're yo-Holy shit!"
Archie eeps. Literally makes this little eep like a baby kitten. Then he dives behind Adam, as if Cook might forget he was there. Then he starts apologizing. "Oh my gosh, oh my heck, oh my god, I'm so sorry, oh my gosh-"
Cook is still staring at him and Adam closes his eyes and drops his head to thump against the banister. He really, really wants to get drunk and there's like, zero chance that Seth or any of the other security guards are going to make a run to the local bar for him. Not on the night before the final.
"Archie," he says, waving a hand towards Cook. "Meet David Cook. Cook, this is David Archuleta, better known as Archie. Try not to terrorize him too much."
"Adam," Cook says carefully, "That's a fairy!?"
"He's right there, you know," Adam points out. "And yeah, he's a fairy."
"...the everloving fuck?" Cook demands eloquently. "Why do you have a fairy following you around, Lambert?"
"I was just asking him that," Adam points out and Archie babbles another stream of apologies, peeking out around Adam. Cook comes out onto the landing and leans over the railing to look at him and Adam can actually see the moment when Cook falls for the big eyes and the lip-biting cute. His shocked expression softens into something warmer and he actually leans past Adam to get a better look at Archie who has subsided into a mortified and miserable silence.
"Wow, you're kinda adorable, aren't you?" Cook has that lopsided half-smile that Adam alternates between wanting to punch and thinking it's sorta cute. Archie eeps again and Adam has to move fast to catch him when he tries to hide behind his wings. Cook lunges to catch Archie, far too late but Adam has him.
"Y'okay?" He asks, because Archie is shaking and going red and he's even tinier than Kris and Adam is really hoping he didn't actually crush Kris' childhood friend or whatever Archie is to him. Cook comes down the stairs to look at Archie who is nodding furiously and apologizing again.
Adam watches Cook, wonders if he looked that enraptured the first time he saw Kris. Cook's still got a small half-smile playing around his lips and he's staring at Archie who is still a little curled up, still red and still apologizing Adam thinks for a second then mentally shrugs and raises his voice. "Kris? Does Archie come with an off switch or do I just wait for him to pass out from lack of oxygen?"
Kris' head pops out of Adam's room and he ducks back when he sees Cook, peering out more cautiously a second later. Adam lifts his hand a little, biting back a laugh when Cook straightens up a little to follow him and Kris covers his eyes with a hand. Then he ducks back into the room and comes back out with Allison trailing after him. He's also carrying the rolled up pizza menu and he shrugs when Adam arches an eyebrow.
Kris lands easily on Adam's shoulder, Allison pounces on Kris' back and Adam has to work really hard to not burst out laughing at Cook's slack-jawed stare. "Kris, you know Cook, right?"
"Hey, good to meet you," Kris waves, trying to balance Allison and hold out his hand at the same time. "I'm Kris Allen."
"Kris? Adam's boyfriend Kris?" Cook asks and Adam twitches, glowering warningly at Cook.
"Boyfriend?" Kris blinks, and Adam can't judge his expression from this close and he's going to fucking kill Cook. "Adam told you I was his boyfriend?"
"Well, he was on the phone to you like every chance he got," Cook pauses to look at Adam's murderous expression and gets a little more hesitant. "Isn't he your boyfriend?"
Adam says nothing and Kris pats his neck and changes the subject. "Anyway, you've met my squire, Archie," Archie nods and Kris points a thumb over his shoulder. "My Wytch, Allison Irehata."
"Nice to meetcha," Allison says and waves. "We're thinking pizza, you want in?"
"You just had like three pizzas," Adam points out, a little resentfully. Fairy metabolisms are just so not fair. Then he remembers that Kris hasn't eaten properly for the last week because Adam hasn't been around to order food and feels like a jerk.
"You're a witch?" Cook says, gaping a little at Allison in her flamboyant colors and fierce red hair.
"Yup," she beams at him and Cook looks non-plussed. Adam takes the menu Kris is holding out.
"Pepperoni okay?"
They wind up in the kitchen, clustered around the counter and Cook is still openly fascinated by the three fairies and he's asking a load of questions. Adam feels like he should be paying attention but he's grumpy and snappish. Kris stays on his shoulder until the pizza arrives. Adam hangs around long enough to grab a slice or two before pleading exhaustion and going up to grab a shower.
He spends too long in the shower, just staring at his hands flat on the wall and working really fucking hard not to cry. Allison and Archie haven't come out and said it but Kris is a Crown Prince and if Archie and Allison are any indication, his people love him to bits and Kris can go home. And Adam's an absolute, rotten asshole because he wishes that they hadn't saved the other two. He'd have fucking stayed home and practiced all night if that meant Kris wasn't going to leave.
It's really, really amazing how fast his day's gone to shit and Adam can't remember how it felt to be so full of hope and confidence that everything was going to be beautiful and wonderful and right.
He has to get out eventually, hair dripping and skin wrinkled and he dries off and pulls on boxers before scrubbing savagely at his hair and stomping out into the bedroom. Kris is waiting for him, hands tangled together in his lap and chewing on his lip. Adam looks around but there's no sign of the other two (or Cook, which is a relief).
"Hey," Kris says cautiously, looking up.
"Hey," Adam tosses the towel aside and finger-combs his hair. It's going to be wild tomorrow. "Just the two of us?"
It's meant to be a joke but Kris bites his lip and his eyes skitter away before he takes a deep breath and looks back up at Adam. "Yeah. They're staying in Anoop's room tonight. Cook found some spare sheets. I-uh, I asked them to give us some privacy."
"Not worrying or anything," Adam's skin is prickling, uncomfortable and his stomach is squeezing.
"I-we need to talk," Kris says, looking down at his hands, then back up. "Before Allison goes back to tell my family."
"About what?" Adam winces at his own sharp tone but he's only barely holding things together and now Kris expects him to talk about it?
"About what's going to happen when my family know I'm alive," Kris says.
"What's to talk about?" Adam turns to grab up a hairbrush and sits at the dresser to try and straighten out his hair. He really, really needs something that he can fix right now. "You're going back to your family and your castle and your-your Katy. I'm going to be a rock star. Nothing to talk about."
"But-" Kris says hesitantly and Adam shakes his head viciously.
"No, we are not talking about this."
"Adam-"
"Kris, I swear to god, if you don't stop, I'm going to sleep in Anoop's room."
"I-" Adam glares at Kris' reflection and Kris' shoulders drop, wings sagging on to the plain white bedspread in a golden splash. "Okay, no talking about it. I get it, I get it. I promise, okay?"
"Good," Adam says and turns his attention back to fixing his hair, trying to ignore the reflected image of Kris huddled miserably on the bed. There's a long, uncomfortable silence, with the swish of Adam's brush through his hair the only sound. Adam draws it out as long as he can but even flat-ironing every hair individually doesn't take forever.
When Adam stands up, Kris is rubbing at his eyes. He tips his head up to meet Adam's eyes. "I'm not going to make you talk-"
"Like you could," Adam scoffs automatically and there's a glint in Kris' eyes that suggest he might not wanna put that to the test.
"-but I want to ask you, ...I want..." Kris squares his shoulders and looks up. "I want-"
Before Adam can ask what the hell Kris is talking about, Kris shakes his head. "No, you said no talking, so I'm not asking, okay?"
"Ok-ay," Adam parrots back, bewilderment drowning out the irritable misery for a second. Kris closes his eyes and the dim, ever-present glow around him gets brighter and bigger and there's a soft whoosh of air and Kris-
Adam jerks back a step because Kris is still sitting on the bed, but it's sagging under him. His wings, still loose and drooping, spill off the bed and he's...he's huge.
Not, like, huge-huge but he's something like ten times his normal size and the whirring gears in Adam's brain lock and he's staring. Kris stands up, a little unsteady and his wings flare out a little to catch his balance. His clothes have scaled up with him, more or less, popping at the seams and his shirt buttons are probably lost forever. He's still smaller than Adam, like six inches or something and Adam's stuck, frozen in the rattling loop of 'holy shit' and 'Fuck me'.
He's always known that Kris was gorgeous - that isn't a surprise but there's a difference between Kris' adorable when he fitted into Adam's pocket and the clean, perfect lines of his face when he fits into Adam's arms. Kris kisses him, eyes wide and determined and Adam responds automatically; hot boy kissing him is an automatic trigger. But Kris isn't like the pretty, fucked-up twinks; he's sweet and clumsy and so open that Adam's toppling, falling and then it's literal falling and Kris jerks underneath him, breaking the kiss and they're sprawled out on the bed.
Kris is panting, lips already pink and slick and fuck, that's hot. His wings are fanned out under him and Adam's hand runs along the silk-soft surface. It's smooth, warm and soft as the worn plaid of Kris' favorite shirts. Adam wants to feel Kris' skin and he's clumsy, fumbling but he still gets Kris naked and pinned to the bed in under thirty seconds. Adam props himself up on his elbow and just stares.
Kris writhes and tries to pull Adam down, wings spreading flat against the sheets and quivering. He's gorgeous, ripped and solid and beautiful. Adam spreads his hand against the wing and it's hot, warmer than Kris' skin and quivering in time with Kris' racing pulse. Kris rocks up, hip-to-hip and whining. His head tips back to bare his neck and Adam leans in to close his lips over the thrumming pulse just above his collarbone.
Kris is crazy responsive, quicksilver hot and needy under Adam's hands and against his skin and Adam's sucked in like an undertow, brain shorted out and he's already addicted to the way Kris' breath catches when Adam touches him, the rising whine when Adam kisses him. The smooth lines, the pink shapes against golden skin.
He gets a hand around Kris' dick, curved and hard. Kris goes still, eyes huge and dark as Adam runs his fingers up along the vein on the underside. He's softer, skin looser than Adam expects and Adam rubs his thumb around the head and the extra skin. Kris jitters and moans something Southern in the key of 'please'. Adam licks his lips and swallows at Kris' artless sprawl, hips twitching up into Adam's hand, breathless begging and Adam has to get a hand around the base of his own dick and squeeze.
"Please," Kris chants, hands frantic against Adam's back, his arms, his hair. "Please, Adam, please."
Adam fumbles in the bedside drawer, fingers closing around the twisted tube and thank god for force of habit and Brad for insisting that there should always, always be lube. Especially in the Idol mansion. Adam's senses ratchet up a hundred percent as he coaxes Kris' legs open. He's hyper sensitive to every hitch, every catch in Kris' breathing and there's something crazy-intense about the way their eyes lock and Kris is so stupidly, wonderfully open, everything showing through those huge brown eyes.
Kris is hot, too hot to be real and so tight that Adam thinks it's going to be game over before they even get started and time blurs together in a churn of sensation and Kris' panting breath, the unexpected strength in his arms and the legs that bracket Adam's hips.
Adam's brain stops functioning altogether when he slides into Kris, there's just need and want and moving together like there's a live wire hooking them together. Adam actually blacks out when he comes and they lie there, panting and tangled and sweating and Kris' wings are fanning the air lazily. Adam's crushing him into the mattress and he should be moving but he can't make himself breathe at the thought of letting go.
He's half-asleep, breathing easy and his pulse slowing to a normal tempo, when Kris leans up, lips brushing the curve of Adam's ear. "I want to see you win. I'm not going until after you win."
Adam should say something but he's fucked his brains out and he can be coherent, he just needs to sleep first.
Adam wakes late in the morning when Janice, one of the PAs, bangs on his door. "Forty minutes, Adam!"
Adam flails and falls out of bed and he's tacky and gross and he stumbles into the shower and only really wakes up about halfway through conditioning his hair. His first conscious thought is Holy fucking shit!, then Kris and he races through his shower and comes hurrying out in a towel. The bed is rumpled and still-warm and the covers are all bundled up into a cocoon.
Janice barges in before Adam can unwind what had better be a Kris-cocoon and he has to get dressed. He kinda hates her for that, even if she did get him up in time to do his hair. He does hate her when she stays to make sure he's fixing his hair and getting dressed. Getting dressed with an audience isn't a new experience but Janice is a little too attentive and it really freaks him out.
She leaves at last, warning him that the car'll be in front in five minutes and if his butt is not in the backseat, he'll have to jog to the studio. The humidity, she adds, is ridiculously high today. Adam paints on a sickly-sweet smile and promises to be there.
Kris is still in bed, deeply asleep and Adam's jeans somehow shrink like three sizes when he pulls back the covers to see Kris, still super-sized, sprawled bonelessly out across the rumpled sheets. His neck is dotted with red marks starting to shade into pale washed-out blue bruises. His wings fan out, covering his waist and down past mid-thigh in a coy tease that makes Kris look like some sort of cheeky gay pin-up.
Adam stares for a minute, maybe two. Three at the outside. Then he tries to wake Kris up and wow, Adam is so used to Kris being the morning person that he's forgotten that Kris is a bitch to wake.
Kris finally cracks one weary brown eye and Adam's breath snags in his throat at the subdued misery behind the well-fucked haze. He bites his lip, tasting the tacky lip gloss that Brad bought him as a joke during their shopping trips for Burning Man. "Hey, how're you doing?"
Kris huffs and his eye half-closes again. "I'm gonna sleep on my belly for a bit but I'm good. Seriously, it was worth it," he adds when Adam tenses up guiltily. "It was...it was incredible. Really. I'm...glad we did, uh, it."
Adam strokes a hand down the curve of Kris' spine. "How did I not know you could do this?"
"I couldn't do it by myself. It's, kinda tricky and uh," Kris arches, pressing up into Adam's hand. "I, it only lasts about twelve hours and it takes, like, a stupid amount of power so I needed Allison to help me."
"Huh," Adam rubs his thumb across the bump of Kris' spine, right between his wings which makes them quiver. "So, listen, after...after the show. You and me. We need to-to talk. Okay?"
Kris' eyes slit open again and his voice is wary. "Thought you didn't want to talk."
"I didn't," Adam admits, spreading his fingers so he can stroke Kris' wings. "But, sometimes? I'm an idiot. We do need to talk and I'd hang around but-"
"-But the car just arrived and you gotta go," Kris finishes.
"Yeah," Adam sighs, hesitates for a second, then leans in to press their lips together. It's a proper first kiss, shy and chaste and a little clumsy. "But tonight, you'll wait until we talk, right?"
"If it means that much to you," Kris agrees easily, back tensing under Adam's hand. "I guess it shouldn't be a problem."
"Awesome," Adam says honestly and brushes a kiss to the back of Kris' neck. "I'll see you tonight then, all right?"
"Yeah," Kris promises, burrowing back into his pillow and Adam draws the covers up over him and has to run downstairs to make it before the car leaves without him. He's jittery, fingers tapping out a staccato beat and for the first time ever, it isn't the prospect of getting voted off that's making him nervous.
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