The Snow Diamond - Kris/Adam - NC17
Title: The Snow Diamond
Author: jeyhawk
Artist: chosenfire28
Art Post: HERE!
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. fic•tion noun 1. a literary work based on the imagination and not necessarily on fact, 2. a deliberately false or improbable account [syn: fabrication]
Pairing: Kris/Adam
Rating: NC17
Word Count: ~6,700
Notes: Written for kradamreversebb. Notes and credits at the end.
Kris and Adam are rivaling thieves with their hearts set on the same prize - an invaluable necklace. At least that's what Kris thinks, Adam has a completely different prize in mind…
Banner by chosenfire28
The Snow Diamond
The Snow Diamond, 180 karats, perfectly cut, and set into an intricate silver necklace in the shape of a snowflake. Once it adorned the neck of Amelie Kozicki, a token of affection awarded to her family by a Prussian Emperor. Her father managed to smuggle it out of Europe during the Nazi occupation, although he wasn't so lucky. Now, it rests against the bony ribcage of Anna Claiborne, American IT girl, and the sole heiress to the Claiborne fortune.
Ms. Claiborne is currently dancing a bastardized version of a slow foxtrot with Prince Carl Philip of Sweden, a champagne glass in one hand and the other resting inappropriately low on the Prince's hip. The diamonds around her neck catch the light from the crystal chandeliers hanging above the dance floor, casting an intricate net of light reflections across the exposed skin at her throat. It's breathtaking, if you ignore the flushed cheeks and bloodshot eyes of the girl wearing it.
"She's a mess, isn't she?" A voice murmurs in Kris's ear through the tiny earpiece hidden in his ear.
"Yeah, if baby girl's looking to snag herself a title, she's doing it wrong," another voice chimes in.
"I can't believe she's wearing that necklace with that dress," a third voice adds.
On the dance floor, the prince gently untangles himself from Ms. Claiborne and she launches herself into a new set of arms, snagging a fresh glass from a passing waiter without missing a beat.
"Oh, she's good at that," the first voice says and Kris clears his throat, amused smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
"Are any of you actually working, right now?" he asks. "Megan, what's the ETA on the keycard?"
"Ten seconds and counting."
"Alli, you in position?"
"Just a second, boss."
"Anoop?"
"When was I ever out of position?"
"Smart ass," Megan says fondly.
"What was that? Hot ass?"
"In your dreams, geek boy."
Kris circles the dance floor slowly, keeping an idle eye on the heiress, while the rest of the team chatters in his ear. There are security guards everywhere. Ms. Claiborne is not the only one wearing priceless jewels tonight and he'd rather not draw attention to himself by speaking into thin air.
"You're all aware that this is going to suck for me, right?" Allison says. "Like really, really suck."
"We went over this," Kris murmurs, smiling blandly at a woman in an impressively ugly dress. "You're the only one that'll fit in the box."
"I know," Allison mutters. "But it's still going to suck."
"Got it," Megan says triumphantly, cutting off Allison's dramatic sulking.
Kris catches a brief glimpse of Megan's curly hair through the crowd before it closes again. He doesn't crane his neck to look after her; he already knows that she's heading towards the air-vent where Allison is waiting for the drop off.
"Brooke?"
"I'm here."
"You're up."
She doesn't dignify him with an answer; it's probably just as well. Brooke can be scathing when she thinks he's taking his authority too far.
"And we have a problem," Megan says suddenly, voice low.
Kris stiffens, slowly turning in her general direction. "What kind of problem?"
"Your boyfriend's here."
Kris takes a deep breath and lets it out through his teeth. "Brooke, take the lead," he says, a muscle in his jaw ticking. "I'll deal with this."
He reaches up to scratch his ear, deftly removing the earpiece. He makes sure it's flicked off before he slips it into his pocket, they do not need a repeat of London.
--
Adam's on the dance floor, of course, leading one of the European princesses through an intricate waltz. Kris takes a seat at one of the tables and grabs a flute from a passing waiter to have something to do while he waits. The champagne is dry enough to curdle his tongue, but it lands like a warm weight in his stomach, making him relax slightly. Even if Adam means trouble, Kris really kind of missed him and he knows the rest of the team has got this.
Adam looks more royal than half the dignitaries gathered in the room with his easy grace and impeccably cut tuxedo. It's only the black polish on his nails and the hint of eyeliner around his blue eyes that belies the fact that while he is many things, royalty is not one of them.
Kris watches as Adam thanks the princess for the dance with one last elegant twirl, sending her laughing back to her glowering husband. He follows her with his eyes as she crosses the floor, the emerald green of her long-sleeved gown reminding him of the last time Adam got crazy with the highlights. His hair is back to black now, subtly highlighted with a hint of brown, and teased over the crown of his head in a voluminous back-slick.
Kris doesn't look up when someone bumps into his shoulder, keeping his eyes trained on the princess who's talking to her husband with a huge smile on her face, but after a moment he reaches up to pick the keycard out of his breast pocket. A little note attached to it says: 7343.
He polishes off the last of the champagne, searching out Ms. Claiborne again. She's talking to someone at the edge of the dance floor, one hand resting casually against the man's shoulder while the other gestures widely. The man has his back to Kris, but he still looks somehow familiar, maybe it's the broad line of his shoulders, or his unusual haircut. He narrows his eyes, waiting for the man to turn in his direction, but when he doesn't Kris decides to let it go. Anoop's tapped in to the video feed coming from the cameras hidden all over the place and is keeping an eye on things from the safety of their room. Besides, Brooke told him just yesterday that he has to learn how to relax on the job, and while today is not really a good day to start, he does have someone waiting for him.
--
"Took you long enough," Adam remarks, when Kris slips into the room. He's sprawled in a comfortable chair by the far wall, tuxedo jacket already discarded and the top buttons of his shirt hanging open.
Kris lets the door fall shut behind him and shakes his head. "What are you doing here?"
"What?" Adam asks innocently. "A guy can't travel anymore?"
Kris narrows his eyes.
"Okay, okay, you got me. I just wanted to see it with my own eyes. Looking isn't a crime."
"Since when did you ever just look?" he asks tiredly.
Adam always means trouble. Adam's competition and also…
"Are we going to fuck first or fight first?" Adam asks, cocking an eyebrow. "It's always one or the other."
Kris glances at his watch, by now Allison is in position and Brooke shouldn't need more than fifteen more minutes to finish her play. Anoop's already set up, Megan's working the crowd and if they run into trouble Sasha's on standby.
"Fuck first," he says, slipping the watch off his wrist. The plan is nearly foolproof and Adam can't make a move for it if he's otherwise occupied.
"Thought so," Adam says happily. He's definitely up to something.
--
The first kiss is always electric; maybe it's because it's always been too long, or maybe it's just the way they fit.
"You changed your toothpaste," Adam says, pulling away slightly.
"I changed a lot of things," Kris retorts, pulling him back.
It's intimately familiar, Adam's knee pushed in between his, Adam's hands braced on either side of his head, yet it always feels brand new.
"I like the suit," Adam says, pushing the jacket down over Kris's arms. "Very suave."
"Megan picked it out."
Adam snorts. "Of course. Does she change your underwear too?"
This is familiar too, the casual jealousy and the fierceness in Adam's eyes, even though he knows Megan isn't a threat to him. Kris thinks he could get used to it, but he prays he'll never get the chance. They'd never work, not like that, not for real. This - this will have to be enough.
It's never enough.
--
"I swear you get hotter every time we meet," Adam murmurs, pressing a kiss between Kris's shoulder blades.
"Mhmm," Kris agrees, breath hitching when Adam's fingers find his opening.
"I could do this all the time," Adam says dreamily, testing the resistance with one slick finger.
Kris shivers, pushing his ass up. He could too. It's a bit of a problem.
"So tight," Adam says approvingly, slowly screwing his finger in and out. "Someone's been a good boy."
Kris buries his flushed face into the pillows and pushes back against Adam's finger instead of answering. He has been a good boy. It's really fucking embarrassing considering it's been four months since the last time. Thinking of the last time…
"How… oh… how'd you get out of the handcuffs?"
Adam chuckles, pulling his finger out only to push back with two. "Baby, did you really think I'd let you cuff me without a Plan B?" He huffs, deliberately brushing his fingers against Kris's prostate.
Kris groans, arching his back. "Yes… there."
Adam ignores him, of course. "Thanks for calling to see that I made it out okay, by the way…" Adam pushes his fingers in hard, twisting them. "Not."
"I went back," Kris pants, scrambling to get better leverage, but Adam has one arm braced across the small of his back, holding him down. "You were already gone."
Adam hums, rubbing up against Kris's prostrate again. "Still," he says when Kris stops moaning. "You could have called."
He pulls his fingers out, only to push back in a moment later with three.
"God," Kris groans, rubbing his sweaty face against the sheets. "Are you… oh… trying to kill me?"
Adam huffs again, giving Kris's prostate a good nudge that sends him skittering across the bed.
"Holy fuck," Kris pants, trying to get his knees under him again.
"Mmm yeah," Adam agrees, pressing a kiss to Kris's sweat slick hip. If he doesn't get on with it soon, Kris is going to miss the main event.
It's an incredible effort but somehow Kris manages to wriggle away from Adam's hold and flip over on his back. "Do you mind?" he asks tightly, giving his flushed, dripping cock a pointed look.
Adam smirks, resting back on his haunches. "Always so pushy."
"Always so fucking toppy."
"You wouldn't have me any other way," Adam points out.
It's true, but still, Kris is so turned on he's practically dying. Just looking at Adam's gorgeous cock makes his mouth water in anticipation, and he reaches out, grabbing Adam's hand to tug him closer.
"Come on, baby," he says, biting down on his lower lip. "You know there's only one thing I like better than being fingered…"
"Oh you," Adam says, but he's grinning, and he reaches for the condoms, so Kris considers it a win.
The first blunt press against Kris's opening is oh my god too much, but then he lets his breath out, wrapping his fingers around Adam's biceps and Adam slips right in.
"Oh yeah," Kris hisses, eyes slipping close. "Fuck yeah."
Adam feels huge and steely hard, pushing forward inch by inch while Kris's breath sticks in his throat and sweat beads on his forehead.
"You okay?" Adam asks tightly, bending forward to brush his lips against Kris's.
"Oh yeah," Kris answers, chasing Adam's mouth with his tongue when he tries to pull away. "More than."
Adam chuckles but it ends on a moan when he's finally settled balls deep. Kris sucks in a breath and thinks that this is why he hasn't had sex in four months, no one else fucking compares.
"God, you're perfect," Adam breathes, giving Kris a slow deep kiss that makes him wiggle his hips with his need for more.
There's not much room to talk after that, just the wet-slick slap of skin against skin, broken moans and needy, almost desperate, kisses in between. Kris wraps his legs around Adam's back, arching into every deep hard thrust until he's at the very brink of coming.
"Come on, baby. Come on," he slurs, digging his nails into Adam's slick shoulders.
Adam knows what he's asking for, his hands coming down to curl around Kris's hips, lifting him into the thrusts.
"Oh… fuck… oh." Kris flails his hands around until they find leverage on the sheets, balling them up in his fists. "Adam, Adam, Adam."
He stays at the brink for what feels like forever, orgasm so close he can feel it in his teeth, and then finally he tumbles over, spilling between their stomachs in long wet pulses. He thinks he screams; at least his throat feels sore when he tries to talk Adam through the last few thrusts, until Adam's coming too - head thrown back and mouth open on a deep moan.
--
They cuddle afterwards. Adam's rules say at least ten minutes and Kris can't say he minds.
"I could get used to this," Adam says, pressing a kiss to Kris's shoulder.
"Mmm," Kris agrees, snuggling in closer. He wishes he could wake up next to Adam again. They haven't done that since Berlin.
Adam trails his fingers down Kris's exposed back, letting them come to rest against his hip. "I keep thinking…" he starts, but then he cuts himself off and when Kris looks up he just shakes his head. "Never mind."
Kris narrows his eyes, but Adam just shakes his head again, pushing himself up to give Kris a kiss. "Let's save the talking for later," he says. "How much time do we have?"
Kris glances at the bedside clock. If everything went according to plan the team should be back in the room by now, except for Allison of course. For the next few hours it's a waiting game.
"A while longer," he answers.
"Good."
Adam easily pulls Kris on top of him, reaching up to cup his face in his hands. "I'm so happy that I met you," he says sincerely, and Kris only has a second to wonder what Adam's up to now before Adam's kissing him again.
--
It's about forty-five minutes later when Kris makes it back to the room, cufflinks in his pocket and shirt untucked. His hair is still wet from the five minute shower he shared with Adam and somehow he can't stop smiling, even when the first flutters of nerves makes his stomach clench.
Anoop 's in the sitting room when Kris walks in, feet kicked up on the delicate coffee table and eyes trained on the computer screen.
"How are we doing?" Kris asks, letting the door slip shut behind him.
"Good," Anoop says without looking up. "The party is still going strong, and everyone's in position."
Kris nods, shrugging his jacket off and hanging it over his arm. He can't shake the niggling feeling that something's going to go wrong.
"Can you bring up the footage of Ms. Claiborne from just before I took off? She was talking to someone."
"Sure," Anoop says, fingers tapping across the screen. "Give me a second."
Kris uses the time to change into jeans and a t-shirt, folding the suit carefully and putting it into his bag. They'll be moving on in a few hours and a neat row of bags already flanks the door.
"Where's Sasha?" he asks, walking back into the sitting room with his bag.
"She started moving things down to the car in case we have to leave in a hurry."
"Good," Kris says, dropping his bag by the door and walking over to sit down next to Anoop.
"Is this the footage you wanted?" Anoop says, flipping the screen in Kris's direction.
"Yeah," Kris says, frowning. "Can you give me a better picture of the man?"
Anoop taps the keys a few times and a new picture appears, clearer this time.
"Someone you know?" he asks.
Kris shakes his head slowly. The nose is wrong, and the jaw line, and the eyes hidden behind thick glasses are the wrong color, not to mention that the man Kris is thinking of has been dead for five years.
"Who is he?" he asks.
"Uhmm…" Anoop frowns bringing up a succession of new windows so rapidly Kris almost gets dizzy with it. "Matthew Fullam, an American businessman."
Kris stares at the picture for a little longer, before he shakes himself out of it. Adam showing up has him seeing ghosts. Anoop closes the window again, going back to watching the feed from the ball room with several smaller windows open at the side that shows the garage, the lobby and the corridors, the images flickering and changing between different cameras with random intervals.
"Adam's leaving," Anoop says, bringing up a shot of the lobby.
"Huh," Kris says, leaning forward to look at the screen.
Adam's at the reception desk, talking to the concierge. He's casually dressed in skinny jeans, boots and a studded grey leather jacket, hair still in wet curls against his neck. He's got a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and he's dangling a set of car keys from his hand.
"Where is he going?" Kris asks, frowning. "He just got here."
"No idea," Anoop says. "He checked in under the name Adan Lebow and he paid for a week straight up… Are things okay with you guys?"
"What?" Kris asks. "Why wouldn't they be?"
Anoop shrugs. "It's just… It's been, what? Four months since the last time and now he's leaving when he just got here…"
Kris stares. "How do you know it's been four months?" he asks.
Anoop actually flushes. "You're different when he's around," he says, looking acutely uncomfortable.
"Different how?" Kris asks curiously. Anoop has, as far as he can recall, never even mentioned his thing with Adam before.
Anoop shrugs again, closing in on Adam's face as he walks towards the front doors. Adam looks up at the camera and winks, fingers forming a victory sign by his side. Kris's pulse spikes, and not only because Adam's gorgeous.
"Go back to ballroom," Kris says tightly. "Where's Ms. Claiborne?"
The image changes to the overview of the ballroom before the screen starts flickering as Anoop jumps between the cameras until he finds Ms. Claiborne again. She's sitting at one of the tables talking to the Swedish prince with the necklace still securely clasped around her neck. Kris sighs with relief and relaxes back into the couch cushions.
"What the fuck is he up to?" he asks, even if he knows no one can answer that but Adam.
"Booty call?" Anoop suggests.
Kris gives him a sourly look, shaking his head. It wouldn't be unheard of for Adam to show up just for a piece of Kris's ass -- before the latest dry spell he did that quite often -- but usually that means he shows up on Kris's actual doorstep, not like this.
"Okay," Anoop says. "I admit it. I'll just never get you two."
Kris sighs. "That makes two of us," he says.
On the screen Ms. Claiborne pushes to her feet and sways through the crowd on her way towards the bathroom.
"I swear that girl has the smallest bladder in the world," Anoop mutters, switching cameras so that they can watch her approach.
Moments after she disappears through the door Megan follows her, long suffering look on her face.
--
It's almost 4 a.m. when things finally quiet down enough for them to make their move. By then the team, minus Allison, is back in the room and changed out of their finery. The bags are in the car and everyone's on high alert, staring at Anoop's screen. The necklace was brought into the vault two hours ago and they've just been waiting since. Kris is nearing twenty-four hours awake, his eyelids are heavy and he aches in a number of interesting places, but he's wired with nervous energy.
He looks up from the screen to find the team watching him expectantly. He nods once, squaring his shoulders. "Game on," he says.
"Motion sensors off," Anoop says, fingers tapping across the keyboard, almost fast enough to blur.
"Okay, Alli," Kris murmurs. "You're on."
"Finally," she crows.
Anoop brings up the camera feed of the vault, the screen flipped in two. One shows what the security guards are seeing, a recording from the same time last night when the vault was empty, while the other shows Allison slipping out of one of the compartments and cracking her neck.
The vault is state of the art, high tech and almost impossible to break into, but it has one flaw; it's almost ridiculously easy to break out of. It's always rewarding to watch a week's worth of heavy-duty prep work come together seamlessly. Allison uses the key Brooke conned from the head of security (not that he knows that) to open the compartment pulling out the black velvet box that contains the necklace. She turns to grin at the camera as she flips the lid open, her grin dies.
"It's fake," she says.
"What?" Kris asks, voice climbing in pitch. "Are you sure?"
"If there's anything I know it's diamonds. These…" She pulls the necklace out, holding it up for the camera. "Are not diamonds."
"Fuck," Megan hisses.
Kris agrees with the sentiment. It's Adam. It has to be Adam, but how?
"Alli, get out of there," he says tightly. "Bring the fake and leave everything else. Sasha, get the car."
--
The alarm goes off the moment Allison jumps into the car. Someone must have tipped them off, someone who was considerate enough to wait until they were safe. Kris is going to kill him.
"It's Adam, right?" Megan says, leaning forward to look at Kris. "It has to be."
Kris presses his lips tightly together and shrugs. The thing is, he should have expected this. He let Adam lure him into a false sense of security because in the last few years Adam let him win. He wanted to think that maybe it meant Adam respected his crusade, but now he's starting to think it's because the prize was never great enough.
"Fuck," he says. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."
"You already did that," Brooke points out and maybe it's not supposed to be an insult, but it sure feels like one.
"Look," he starts, but then he cuts himself off, because what is there to say, really? Adam played him, they all know Adam played him, and now they have to return to LA empty-handed.
"I'm sorry," he says instead, craning his neck to stare out the window.
"It's okay," Allison says, reaching across the seats to squeeze his shoulder. "I like him too."
The others murmur their agreement with varying levels of sincerity and that's the thing, everyone likes Adam - he's sweet, and smart, and funny, and quite possibly the best damned thief in the world - but Kris is the only one who was stupid enough to fall in love with him.
--
"How the fuck did he do it?" Anoop says, and there's something close to awe in his voice. "We've been working this con for a week and he just sweeps in to claim the prize. When did he make the damned switch?"
That's the thing, they know Ms. Claiborne was wearing the real thing. It stayed around her neck all night and the security detail even took her down to the vault to lock it up in person. The switch must have been made during the party, but Adam only spent minutes in the ballroom. Unless… Kris starts cursing under his breath.
"What?" Megan asks.
"Anoop, bring up the camera footage of Matthew Fullam again."
Anoop's fingers dance across the keys for a moment then he flips the screen for Kris to see. "Like this?" he asks.
Kris shakes his head. "Can I get a full body pic?"
Anoop frowns, but he taps the keys a few times, flipping the screen around again. Kris stares at the picture, eyes narrowed. "Close in on his hands."
Anoop obliges, turning the screen for Kris to see again. There's a fine line of black visible just above the nail beds, as if Matthew was in a hurry when he removed his black nail polish. "Zoom out again," Kris says tightly.
He stares. The nose is too wide and the jaw line doesn’t quite fit, but five years older and a little heavier, it's Monte Fucking Pittman. "Fucking fuck," he exclaims.
Anoop flips the screen back. "Who is it?" he asks.
"Monte Pittman."
Sasha whistles through her teeth. "I thought he was dead."
"So did I," Kris says angrily. He even accompanied Adam to Monte's fucking wake, holding his hand through the entire ceremony while real tears glimmered in Adam's eyes.
"Go through the footage," he says. "Ms. Claiborne must have made the switch herself but somehow Monte got his hands on it."
It takes almost the entire ride to the airport before Anoop finally flips the screen around. The looped video shows Monte brushing past Ms. Claiborne after one of her bathroom breaks - slowed down and closed up you can clearly see him picking a black velvet bag from her purse.
"I found something else, too," Anoop says tiredly, the image on the screen changing to yet another familiar face. "Fucking Ghost."
Tommy Joe "The Ghost" Ratliff, the only hacker in the world who might be better than Anoop, and also one of Adam's best friends.
"What the fuck is this?" Megan asks. "Is Adam putting together his own crew?"
"I don't know," Kris says tiredly. "I don't fucking know."
Adam always works alone. Everyone knows that. He might ask for help with a few of the details, but he never brings anyone in. He once told Kris that he didn't have the patience to be a mastermind and Kris believed him then. Maybe he lied, or maybe he just changed. It doesn't really matter.
The heavy weight in Kris's chest still feels a whole lot like heartache.
--
The first time Kris met Adam he was eighteen years old. It was almost exactly seven years ago and it was also the first time Adam let Kris win, handing over the trophy (a statue if Kris recalls correctly) with a flourish and a twinkling smile.
The second time Kris met Adam he was nineteen and Adam made off with his virginity. It's almost sad, looking back, to think that he spent his entire adult life loving the same man without ever actually dating him.
Kris just doesn't know where to go from here.
--
Kris walks into his apartment nearly half a day later and it’s night again. He's not entirely sure what day it is and he doesn't fucking care. He just wants to faceplant into his bed and forget that the last forty-eight hours ever happened.
He spent the entire plane ride staring out the window with aching eyes, trying to figure out how Adam did it. Even with a crew to help him it all comes back to the fact that Ms. Claiborne must have been in on it. He just can't figure out why.
He dumps his bag in the hallway, resets the alarm and stumbles up the stairs to his bedroom. The light flicks on when Kris walks into the room - Adam's sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing nothing but the Snow Diamond necklace.
"Surprise," he says.
Kris's head spins and he reaches out to steady himself against the doorjamb. "What the fuck?" he says, because it's the first thing that comes to mind.
Adam smiles, spreading his knees and leaning back against his elbows. "I brought you a present," he says.
Kris doesn't know if he means the necklace or the erection curling up against his stomach. "No, seriously." He scrubs a hand over his face; this day stopped making sense yesterday. "What the fuck?"
Adam laughs, sitting up properly again and reaching up to unclasp the chain from around his neck. "I believe you were looking for this," he says, holding the necklace out.
Kris steps forward warily, snatching it from his fingers. "Why did you steal it if you were planning on handing it over all along?" he asks.
He holds the necklace up to the light. The craftsmanship is exquisite. The Snow Diamond is by far the largest stone set into the design, but it's flanked by a myriad of tiny sisters, creating an intricate snowflake that is truly one of a kind.
"To make a point," Adam says.
Kris lowers the necklace and looks back at Adam. He doesn't want to examine the feeling bubbling up in his chest too closely, but it feels a whole lot like relief.
"What kind of point?" he asks.
"That you need me."
Kris blinks. "That I… last time I looked I've been managing just fine without you for the last, oh I don't know, seven years?"
"We both know that isn't true," Adam says, reaching down to pump his cock a couple of times, almost as an afterthought.
It should be obscene, and insanely out of place, but it still makes Kris's mouth water. Kris tears his eyes away from it and gives Adam an unfriendly look. Adam just smiles serenely in return.
Kris busies himself putting the necklace into his hidden safe, without bothering to try and hide its location from Adam. He’s probably already been through it, the nosy fucker.
"Nice code, by the way," Adam says, confirming Kris's suspicions. "I'm flattered."
Kris flushes, his fingers slipping on the dial. "Bastard," he mutters, but he really only has himself to blame. He shouldn't have picked the code with his downstairs brain.
He slams the safe shut and locks it, even if he could have just left it open for all the respect Adam has for his personal property.
"How did you do it?" he asks, pressing his shoulders against the cold metal of the door, changing the subject from whether or not he needs Adam because the answer to that question will never be easy. "I've been trying to figure it out and I just…"
Adam chuckles. "Don't strain yourself, baby," he says. "You'll never be able to guess."
Kris's eyes narrows. He goes through the bits and pieces again, trying to put it all together, and suddenly the answer is right there. "You fucking bought it," he says.
Adam laughs, absolutely delighted. "Awesome, isn't it? She sold it on the one condition that I made it look like a theft… You did take the fake, right?"
"Yeah," Kris admits.
Adam's smile widens. "She's not half as ditzy as she looks, you know. Daddy's been threatening to cut her off for years, so little Ms. Princess is setting up her own pension plan. I got it for a killer price, too."
"And now you're just gonna give it to me?"
"You can consider it your dowry," Adam says happily.
"My… Are you out of your mind?" Kris squeaks.
"And also because I'm sure your client has a suitably depressing sob story. It's one of the Kozicki kids, right?"
Kris nods dumbly. "I didn't know you cared," he says.
Adam shrugs. "I didn't before. In fact, I sort of thought you were insane. Cute, but insane."
Kris snorts. "Yeah, what did you call it? My incredibly lame Robin Hood crusade?"
"Yeah, something to that effect," Adam admits. He looks away, staring at the window for a moment, when he turns back he looks different, pensive almost. "I thought you'd push me away," he says softly. "Once the white hat was firmly on your head, I thought for sure you'd close me out, but you didn't."
Kris's lips tilt up in a wry smile. "You can't force someone to change their colors," he says. "I learned that the hard way."
Adam nods, looking thoughtful. "I was going to quit you," he says. "After Moscow I just… I was going to quit you."
Kris flinches, biting down on his lower lip. Deep down he knew, of course, he knew even before he cuffed Adam to the bed and snuck out in the middle of the night, but he still did it because he had to.
"I kept telling myself it would never work," Adam continues. "That we could never have more than the physical, but then… Then I realized it was never just about the sex, not even in the beginning. However dysfunctional it is, we've been in a relationship for years."
"Yeah," Kris agrees, exhaling slowly. He wasn't banking on Adam ever figuring that out. "We have."
"You got under my skin," Adam says thoughtfully. "But somehow I didn't think I was ready. Then…"
Adam leans back again, but it's not an invitation this time, even if his cock is still just as hard. "I stole a Matisse out of the Hermitage a couple of months ago," he says.
"The Dance? I thought that was you," Kris says. "But you…"
"Brought it back? I know. I wasn't planning to, but I was watching the news while waiting for my ride to the airport and they interviewed this woman… " Adam runs a hand through his hair, making it stand up in odd ends and tufts. "She used to sit below that painting every week, because that's the spot where her late husband proposed to her and looking at it made her feel as if she was still connected to him and I just… I had to take it back, and you did that. You changed me."
Kris smiles. "You changed yourself," he says.
"Maybe," Adam agrees. "But you made me want to." Adam flails one of his hands. "I have a house full of riches, several houses in fact, but lately there's only been one prize worth the effort…"
Kris holds up a hand to stop him, but Adam plows on anyway.
"You," he finishes softly.
Kris's breath sticks in his throat, as he takes in the long, fluid line of Adam's body, his messy hair, smudged eyeliner and the complete and utter sincerity on his face.
"It's been seven years," Adam says. "Don't you think it's time you make an honest man out of me?"
Kris laughs, and laughs, and laughs, and laughs. He laughs until his knees give out and his ass connects with the floor and even then he can't stop. It's been a really, really long fucking day. Or two.
"That's it," Adam says, crossing the floor to tug Kris onto his wobbly feet. "I'm putting you to bed. We can talk more tomorrow."
"I have a meeting with my client in the morning," Kris says, burrowing his face into Adam's neck.
"I'll set the alarm," Adam promises.
"At 7 a.m."
"Are you… Whatever. I'll deal with it."
Fifteen minutes later Kris is safely tucked into bed with Adam spooned up behind him and the alarm set for 6:15 (by Kris, much to Adam's amusement). Adam's erection is snuggly fit into the small of Kris's back and Kris vaguely thinks it's a shame to waste such a fine piece of wood, but he falls asleep before he's managed to twist himself around - Adam's pleased chuckle the last thing he hears.
--
Kris wakes up at 11 a.m. to an empty bed. It takes him about five seconds to fumble into last night's discarded jeans and check the safe. The necklace is gone.
"Fuck," he curses, banging his forehead against the wall. He should have fucking known better than to trust Adam's pretty lies.
He rushes downstairs only to be met by the sweet smell of coffee and the entire crew plus two, lounging on the couches.
"Hey," Adam says, smiling brightly. "You're awake. Wait right there. I'll get you some coffee."
Kris blinks, his mouth falling open. "I… uh… You..." He frowns, looking to the crew for an explanation.
"It was amazing," Allison says, eyes glittering. "He showed up at five past seven introducing himself as your partner and dazzled the old biddy right off her feet."
"And the necklace?" Kris asks, eyes shifting to the kitchen door.
"He just handed it over," Megan says. "Didn't even twinge. We're all so proud of him."
Kris blinks and looks back at his team. "Traitors," he says. His eyes skips to the slight figure curled up next to Sasha, munching on a bowl of dry cereal. Kris's cereal. "And what are you doing here?" he asks.
"I keep asking the same thing," Anoop says, sending an angry look across the coffee table.
Tommy looks up with a slight shrug. "You're out of milk," he says.
"Oh, he's just a little something to sweeten the pot," Adam says, coming out of the kitchen with a coffee cup between his hands. "You won't find anyone better."
"Hey," Anoop protests.
Kris ignores him, because Adam's handing the coffee over with an almost shy smile on his lips.
"You," Kris says, taking the coffee cup out of Adam's hands. "Are in the doghouse. You waltz in here like you own the place, steal my team and my client and… mmph."
It's hard to argue with Adam's tongue in his mouth but Kris still tries, getting about two words out between every kiss, until he gives up and sips his coffee instead. Anoop and Tommy start bickering again, about what Kris can't tell, and he leans his head back against Adam's solid shoulder, content to watch the show.
"So you're actually serious about this," he says, tilting his head back to look up at Adam.
"Yup," Adam confirms. "All of it."
Kris snorts, taking another mouthful of coffee. Tommy and Anoop are still going at it, with the girls acting as slightly biased referees. He lifts his eyes to find Monte sitting by the window, cutting pieces from an apple with a lethal looking knife. Kris opens his mouth, but after a moment he snaps it shut, deciding he just doesn't want to know.
"They'll settle down," Adam says, wrapping his arm around Kris's shoulders, with his eyes still on the fight.
"Yeah," Kris agrees. "Eventually."
Adam's warm and solid against his side, his thumb rubbing a soft circle against Kris's bicep. The coffee's dark and strong, and whenever he tilts his head back he gets kissed for his trouble. For the first time in his life it feels as if everything is exactly as it should be.
"Anoop," he says, interrupting something that looks a whole lot like thumb-wrestling. "How many bugs do you have in the apartment right now?"
"Eight," Anoop and Tommy answers at the same time.
"Oh, no you didn't," Anoop says and they're off again, arguing about whether or not Tommy's allowed to hack Anoop's network.
Kris sighs, snuggling back into Adam who's moved to stand behind him with his arms wrapped around Kris's chest. There's a familiar piece of wood pressed up against his ass, he remembers having plans for that last night.
"Hey," Kris shouts, halting the fight again. "Turn them off."
It takes a few moments of frantic tapping then Tommy punches his fist into the air. "Done," he says smugly.
Anoop pouts. "He can't do that. Can he do that? Those are my bugs."
"You know what," Kris says with a smile. "I don't care. Now all of you… OUT!"
"Mmm," Adam breathes against his ear. "You're so hot when you're bossy."
Kris tilts his head back, offering his lips for another coffee flavored kiss. "I'm also not wearing underwear," he says.
Adam jerks his head up. "Okay," he says. "You heard the boss. OUT."
"You know they're going to eavesdrop, right?" Kris says, watching everyone leave in a disorderly mess with Tommy and Anoop picking up the rear. Everyone gives Monte wide berth, but no one seems to question his glowering inclusion.
"Yeah," Adam says ruefully. "That's probably the only thing Anoop and Tommy will ever agree on."
Kris pushes up on his toes to give Adam a slick lazy kiss. "Wanna know something else?" he asks.
"Sure," Adam answers, eyes sparkling.
"I wouldn't care even if they sold tickets."
"Mmmm… kinky," Adam murmurs, reaching down to grab Kris's ass. "I still have those handcuffs you know."
~The End~
Thanks to:
dansetheblues for alpha reading and invaluable feedback. You rock, BB. :D
elizaria for seal claps, dolphin noises, and general encouragement. I'm so happy I met you. :D
sbb23 for being the bestest beta reader ever! Don't worry, BB, no baby goats were harmed during the writing of this comment. ;D
chosenfire28 for the amazingly prettiful art. You should head over to the art post and heap love on her. :D
Notes:
In case you couldn't tell this fic was heavily inspired by Leverage.
Thanks for reading. <3
Author: jeyhawk
Artist: chosenfire28
Art Post: HERE!
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. fic•tion noun 1. a literary work based on the imagination and not necessarily on fact, 2. a deliberately false or improbable account [syn: fabrication]
Pairing: Kris/Adam
Rating: NC17
Word Count: ~6,700
Notes: Written for kradamreversebb. Notes and credits at the end.
Kris and Adam are rivaling thieves with their hearts set on the same prize - an invaluable necklace. At least that's what Kris thinks, Adam has a completely different prize in mind…
Banner by chosenfire28
The Snow Diamond
The Snow Diamond, 180 karats, perfectly cut, and set into an intricate silver necklace in the shape of a snowflake. Once it adorned the neck of Amelie Kozicki, a token of affection awarded to her family by a Prussian Emperor. Her father managed to smuggle it out of Europe during the Nazi occupation, although he wasn't so lucky. Now, it rests against the bony ribcage of Anna Claiborne, American IT girl, and the sole heiress to the Claiborne fortune.
Ms. Claiborne is currently dancing a bastardized version of a slow foxtrot with Prince Carl Philip of Sweden, a champagne glass in one hand and the other resting inappropriately low on the Prince's hip. The diamonds around her neck catch the light from the crystal chandeliers hanging above the dance floor, casting an intricate net of light reflections across the exposed skin at her throat. It's breathtaking, if you ignore the flushed cheeks and bloodshot eyes of the girl wearing it.
"She's a mess, isn't she?" A voice murmurs in Kris's ear through the tiny earpiece hidden in his ear.
"Yeah, if baby girl's looking to snag herself a title, she's doing it wrong," another voice chimes in.
"I can't believe she's wearing that necklace with that dress," a third voice adds.
On the dance floor, the prince gently untangles himself from Ms. Claiborne and she launches herself into a new set of arms, snagging a fresh glass from a passing waiter without missing a beat.
"Oh, she's good at that," the first voice says and Kris clears his throat, amused smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
"Are any of you actually working, right now?" he asks. "Megan, what's the ETA on the keycard?"
"Ten seconds and counting."
"Alli, you in position?"
"Just a second, boss."
"Anoop?"
"When was I ever out of position?"
"Smart ass," Megan says fondly.
"What was that? Hot ass?"
"In your dreams, geek boy."
Kris circles the dance floor slowly, keeping an idle eye on the heiress, while the rest of the team chatters in his ear. There are security guards everywhere. Ms. Claiborne is not the only one wearing priceless jewels tonight and he'd rather not draw attention to himself by speaking into thin air.
"You're all aware that this is going to suck for me, right?" Allison says. "Like really, really suck."
"We went over this," Kris murmurs, smiling blandly at a woman in an impressively ugly dress. "You're the only one that'll fit in the box."
"I know," Allison mutters. "But it's still going to suck."
"Got it," Megan says triumphantly, cutting off Allison's dramatic sulking.
Kris catches a brief glimpse of Megan's curly hair through the crowd before it closes again. He doesn't crane his neck to look after her; he already knows that she's heading towards the air-vent where Allison is waiting for the drop off.
"Brooke?"
"I'm here."
"You're up."
She doesn't dignify him with an answer; it's probably just as well. Brooke can be scathing when she thinks he's taking his authority too far.
"And we have a problem," Megan says suddenly, voice low.
Kris stiffens, slowly turning in her general direction. "What kind of problem?"
"Your boyfriend's here."
Kris takes a deep breath and lets it out through his teeth. "Brooke, take the lead," he says, a muscle in his jaw ticking. "I'll deal with this."
He reaches up to scratch his ear, deftly removing the earpiece. He makes sure it's flicked off before he slips it into his pocket, they do not need a repeat of London.
--
Adam's on the dance floor, of course, leading one of the European princesses through an intricate waltz. Kris takes a seat at one of the tables and grabs a flute from a passing waiter to have something to do while he waits. The champagne is dry enough to curdle his tongue, but it lands like a warm weight in his stomach, making him relax slightly. Even if Adam means trouble, Kris really kind of missed him and he knows the rest of the team has got this.
Adam looks more royal than half the dignitaries gathered in the room with his easy grace and impeccably cut tuxedo. It's only the black polish on his nails and the hint of eyeliner around his blue eyes that belies the fact that while he is many things, royalty is not one of them.
Kris watches as Adam thanks the princess for the dance with one last elegant twirl, sending her laughing back to her glowering husband. He follows her with his eyes as she crosses the floor, the emerald green of her long-sleeved gown reminding him of the last time Adam got crazy with the highlights. His hair is back to black now, subtly highlighted with a hint of brown, and teased over the crown of his head in a voluminous back-slick.
Kris doesn't look up when someone bumps into his shoulder, keeping his eyes trained on the princess who's talking to her husband with a huge smile on her face, but after a moment he reaches up to pick the keycard out of his breast pocket. A little note attached to it says: 7343.
He polishes off the last of the champagne, searching out Ms. Claiborne again. She's talking to someone at the edge of the dance floor, one hand resting casually against the man's shoulder while the other gestures widely. The man has his back to Kris, but he still looks somehow familiar, maybe it's the broad line of his shoulders, or his unusual haircut. He narrows his eyes, waiting for the man to turn in his direction, but when he doesn't Kris decides to let it go. Anoop's tapped in to the video feed coming from the cameras hidden all over the place and is keeping an eye on things from the safety of their room. Besides, Brooke told him just yesterday that he has to learn how to relax on the job, and while today is not really a good day to start, he does have someone waiting for him.
--
"Took you long enough," Adam remarks, when Kris slips into the room. He's sprawled in a comfortable chair by the far wall, tuxedo jacket already discarded and the top buttons of his shirt hanging open.
Kris lets the door fall shut behind him and shakes his head. "What are you doing here?"
"What?" Adam asks innocently. "A guy can't travel anymore?"
Kris narrows his eyes.
"Okay, okay, you got me. I just wanted to see it with my own eyes. Looking isn't a crime."
"Since when did you ever just look?" he asks tiredly.
Adam always means trouble. Adam's competition and also…
"Are we going to fuck first or fight first?" Adam asks, cocking an eyebrow. "It's always one or the other."
Kris glances at his watch, by now Allison is in position and Brooke shouldn't need more than fifteen more minutes to finish her play. Anoop's already set up, Megan's working the crowd and if they run into trouble Sasha's on standby.
"Fuck first," he says, slipping the watch off his wrist. The plan is nearly foolproof and Adam can't make a move for it if he's otherwise occupied.
"Thought so," Adam says happily. He's definitely up to something.
--
The first kiss is always electric; maybe it's because it's always been too long, or maybe it's just the way they fit.
"You changed your toothpaste," Adam says, pulling away slightly.
"I changed a lot of things," Kris retorts, pulling him back.
It's intimately familiar, Adam's knee pushed in between his, Adam's hands braced on either side of his head, yet it always feels brand new.
"I like the suit," Adam says, pushing the jacket down over Kris's arms. "Very suave."
"Megan picked it out."
Adam snorts. "Of course. Does she change your underwear too?"
This is familiar too, the casual jealousy and the fierceness in Adam's eyes, even though he knows Megan isn't a threat to him. Kris thinks he could get used to it, but he prays he'll never get the chance. They'd never work, not like that, not for real. This - this will have to be enough.
It's never enough.
--
"I swear you get hotter every time we meet," Adam murmurs, pressing a kiss between Kris's shoulder blades.
"Mhmm," Kris agrees, breath hitching when Adam's fingers find his opening.
"I could do this all the time," Adam says dreamily, testing the resistance with one slick finger.
Kris shivers, pushing his ass up. He could too. It's a bit of a problem.
"So tight," Adam says approvingly, slowly screwing his finger in and out. "Someone's been a good boy."
Kris buries his flushed face into the pillows and pushes back against Adam's finger instead of answering. He has been a good boy. It's really fucking embarrassing considering it's been four months since the last time. Thinking of the last time…
"How… oh… how'd you get out of the handcuffs?"
Adam chuckles, pulling his finger out only to push back with two. "Baby, did you really think I'd let you cuff me without a Plan B?" He huffs, deliberately brushing his fingers against Kris's prostate.
Kris groans, arching his back. "Yes… there."
Adam ignores him, of course. "Thanks for calling to see that I made it out okay, by the way…" Adam pushes his fingers in hard, twisting them. "Not."
"I went back," Kris pants, scrambling to get better leverage, but Adam has one arm braced across the small of his back, holding him down. "You were already gone."
Adam hums, rubbing up against Kris's prostrate again. "Still," he says when Kris stops moaning. "You could have called."
He pulls his fingers out, only to push back in a moment later with three.
"God," Kris groans, rubbing his sweaty face against the sheets. "Are you… oh… trying to kill me?"
Adam huffs again, giving Kris's prostate a good nudge that sends him skittering across the bed.
"Holy fuck," Kris pants, trying to get his knees under him again.
"Mmm yeah," Adam agrees, pressing a kiss to Kris's sweat slick hip. If he doesn't get on with it soon, Kris is going to miss the main event.
It's an incredible effort but somehow Kris manages to wriggle away from Adam's hold and flip over on his back. "Do you mind?" he asks tightly, giving his flushed, dripping cock a pointed look.
Adam smirks, resting back on his haunches. "Always so pushy."
"Always so fucking toppy."
"You wouldn't have me any other way," Adam points out.
It's true, but still, Kris is so turned on he's practically dying. Just looking at Adam's gorgeous cock makes his mouth water in anticipation, and he reaches out, grabbing Adam's hand to tug him closer.
"Come on, baby," he says, biting down on his lower lip. "You know there's only one thing I like better than being fingered…"
"Oh you," Adam says, but he's grinning, and he reaches for the condoms, so Kris considers it a win.
The first blunt press against Kris's opening is oh my god too much, but then he lets his breath out, wrapping his fingers around Adam's biceps and Adam slips right in.
"Oh yeah," Kris hisses, eyes slipping close. "Fuck yeah."
Adam feels huge and steely hard, pushing forward inch by inch while Kris's breath sticks in his throat and sweat beads on his forehead.
"You okay?" Adam asks tightly, bending forward to brush his lips against Kris's.
"Oh yeah," Kris answers, chasing Adam's mouth with his tongue when he tries to pull away. "More than."
Adam chuckles but it ends on a moan when he's finally settled balls deep. Kris sucks in a breath and thinks that this is why he hasn't had sex in four months, no one else fucking compares.
"God, you're perfect," Adam breathes, giving Kris a slow deep kiss that makes him wiggle his hips with his need for more.
There's not much room to talk after that, just the wet-slick slap of skin against skin, broken moans and needy, almost desperate, kisses in between. Kris wraps his legs around Adam's back, arching into every deep hard thrust until he's at the very brink of coming.
"Come on, baby. Come on," he slurs, digging his nails into Adam's slick shoulders.
Adam knows what he's asking for, his hands coming down to curl around Kris's hips, lifting him into the thrusts.
"Oh… fuck… oh." Kris flails his hands around until they find leverage on the sheets, balling them up in his fists. "Adam, Adam, Adam."
He stays at the brink for what feels like forever, orgasm so close he can feel it in his teeth, and then finally he tumbles over, spilling between their stomachs in long wet pulses. He thinks he screams; at least his throat feels sore when he tries to talk Adam through the last few thrusts, until Adam's coming too - head thrown back and mouth open on a deep moan.
--
They cuddle afterwards. Adam's rules say at least ten minutes and Kris can't say he minds.
"I could get used to this," Adam says, pressing a kiss to Kris's shoulder.
"Mmm," Kris agrees, snuggling in closer. He wishes he could wake up next to Adam again. They haven't done that since Berlin.
Adam trails his fingers down Kris's exposed back, letting them come to rest against his hip. "I keep thinking…" he starts, but then he cuts himself off and when Kris looks up he just shakes his head. "Never mind."
Kris narrows his eyes, but Adam just shakes his head again, pushing himself up to give Kris a kiss. "Let's save the talking for later," he says. "How much time do we have?"
Kris glances at the bedside clock. If everything went according to plan the team should be back in the room by now, except for Allison of course. For the next few hours it's a waiting game.
"A while longer," he answers.
"Good."
Adam easily pulls Kris on top of him, reaching up to cup his face in his hands. "I'm so happy that I met you," he says sincerely, and Kris only has a second to wonder what Adam's up to now before Adam's kissing him again.
--
It's about forty-five minutes later when Kris makes it back to the room, cufflinks in his pocket and shirt untucked. His hair is still wet from the five minute shower he shared with Adam and somehow he can't stop smiling, even when the first flutters of nerves makes his stomach clench.
Anoop 's in the sitting room when Kris walks in, feet kicked up on the delicate coffee table and eyes trained on the computer screen.
"How are we doing?" Kris asks, letting the door slip shut behind him.
"Good," Anoop says without looking up. "The party is still going strong, and everyone's in position."
Kris nods, shrugging his jacket off and hanging it over his arm. He can't shake the niggling feeling that something's going to go wrong.
"Can you bring up the footage of Ms. Claiborne from just before I took off? She was talking to someone."
"Sure," Anoop says, fingers tapping across the screen. "Give me a second."
Kris uses the time to change into jeans and a t-shirt, folding the suit carefully and putting it into his bag. They'll be moving on in a few hours and a neat row of bags already flanks the door.
"Where's Sasha?" he asks, walking back into the sitting room with his bag.
"She started moving things down to the car in case we have to leave in a hurry."
"Good," Kris says, dropping his bag by the door and walking over to sit down next to Anoop.
"Is this the footage you wanted?" Anoop says, flipping the screen in Kris's direction.
"Yeah," Kris says, frowning. "Can you give me a better picture of the man?"
Anoop taps the keys a few times and a new picture appears, clearer this time.
"Someone you know?" he asks.
Kris shakes his head slowly. The nose is wrong, and the jaw line, and the eyes hidden behind thick glasses are the wrong color, not to mention that the man Kris is thinking of has been dead for five years.
"Who is he?" he asks.
"Uhmm…" Anoop frowns bringing up a succession of new windows so rapidly Kris almost gets dizzy with it. "Matthew Fullam, an American businessman."
Kris stares at the picture for a little longer, before he shakes himself out of it. Adam showing up has him seeing ghosts. Anoop closes the window again, going back to watching the feed from the ball room with several smaller windows open at the side that shows the garage, the lobby and the corridors, the images flickering and changing between different cameras with random intervals.
"Adam's leaving," Anoop says, bringing up a shot of the lobby.
"Huh," Kris says, leaning forward to look at the screen.
Adam's at the reception desk, talking to the concierge. He's casually dressed in skinny jeans, boots and a studded grey leather jacket, hair still in wet curls against his neck. He's got a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and he's dangling a set of car keys from his hand.
"Where is he going?" Kris asks, frowning. "He just got here."
"No idea," Anoop says. "He checked in under the name Adan Lebow and he paid for a week straight up… Are things okay with you guys?"
"What?" Kris asks. "Why wouldn't they be?"
Anoop shrugs. "It's just… It's been, what? Four months since the last time and now he's leaving when he just got here…"
Kris stares. "How do you know it's been four months?" he asks.
Anoop actually flushes. "You're different when he's around," he says, looking acutely uncomfortable.
"Different how?" Kris asks curiously. Anoop has, as far as he can recall, never even mentioned his thing with Adam before.
Anoop shrugs again, closing in on Adam's face as he walks towards the front doors. Adam looks up at the camera and winks, fingers forming a victory sign by his side. Kris's pulse spikes, and not only because Adam's gorgeous.
"Go back to ballroom," Kris says tightly. "Where's Ms. Claiborne?"
The image changes to the overview of the ballroom before the screen starts flickering as Anoop jumps between the cameras until he finds Ms. Claiborne again. She's sitting at one of the tables talking to the Swedish prince with the necklace still securely clasped around her neck. Kris sighs with relief and relaxes back into the couch cushions.
"What the fuck is he up to?" he asks, even if he knows no one can answer that but Adam.
"Booty call?" Anoop suggests.
Kris gives him a sourly look, shaking his head. It wouldn't be unheard of for Adam to show up just for a piece of Kris's ass -- before the latest dry spell he did that quite often -- but usually that means he shows up on Kris's actual doorstep, not like this.
"Okay," Anoop says. "I admit it. I'll just never get you two."
Kris sighs. "That makes two of us," he says.
On the screen Ms. Claiborne pushes to her feet and sways through the crowd on her way towards the bathroom.
"I swear that girl has the smallest bladder in the world," Anoop mutters, switching cameras so that they can watch her approach.
Moments after she disappears through the door Megan follows her, long suffering look on her face.
--
It's almost 4 a.m. when things finally quiet down enough for them to make their move. By then the team, minus Allison, is back in the room and changed out of their finery. The bags are in the car and everyone's on high alert, staring at Anoop's screen. The necklace was brought into the vault two hours ago and they've just been waiting since. Kris is nearing twenty-four hours awake, his eyelids are heavy and he aches in a number of interesting places, but he's wired with nervous energy.
He looks up from the screen to find the team watching him expectantly. He nods once, squaring his shoulders. "Game on," he says.
"Motion sensors off," Anoop says, fingers tapping across the keyboard, almost fast enough to blur.
"Okay, Alli," Kris murmurs. "You're on."
"Finally," she crows.
Anoop brings up the camera feed of the vault, the screen flipped in two. One shows what the security guards are seeing, a recording from the same time last night when the vault was empty, while the other shows Allison slipping out of one of the compartments and cracking her neck.
The vault is state of the art, high tech and almost impossible to break into, but it has one flaw; it's almost ridiculously easy to break out of. It's always rewarding to watch a week's worth of heavy-duty prep work come together seamlessly. Allison uses the key Brooke conned from the head of security (not that he knows that) to open the compartment pulling out the black velvet box that contains the necklace. She turns to grin at the camera as she flips the lid open, her grin dies.
"It's fake," she says.
"What?" Kris asks, voice climbing in pitch. "Are you sure?"
"If there's anything I know it's diamonds. These…" She pulls the necklace out, holding it up for the camera. "Are not diamonds."
"Fuck," Megan hisses.
Kris agrees with the sentiment. It's Adam. It has to be Adam, but how?
"Alli, get out of there," he says tightly. "Bring the fake and leave everything else. Sasha, get the car."
--
The alarm goes off the moment Allison jumps into the car. Someone must have tipped them off, someone who was considerate enough to wait until they were safe. Kris is going to kill him.
"It's Adam, right?" Megan says, leaning forward to look at Kris. "It has to be."
Kris presses his lips tightly together and shrugs. The thing is, he should have expected this. He let Adam lure him into a false sense of security because in the last few years Adam let him win. He wanted to think that maybe it meant Adam respected his crusade, but now he's starting to think it's because the prize was never great enough.
"Fuck," he says. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."
"You already did that," Brooke points out and maybe it's not supposed to be an insult, but it sure feels like one.
"Look," he starts, but then he cuts himself off, because what is there to say, really? Adam played him, they all know Adam played him, and now they have to return to LA empty-handed.
"I'm sorry," he says instead, craning his neck to stare out the window.
"It's okay," Allison says, reaching across the seats to squeeze his shoulder. "I like him too."
The others murmur their agreement with varying levels of sincerity and that's the thing, everyone likes Adam - he's sweet, and smart, and funny, and quite possibly the best damned thief in the world - but Kris is the only one who was stupid enough to fall in love with him.
--
"How the fuck did he do it?" Anoop says, and there's something close to awe in his voice. "We've been working this con for a week and he just sweeps in to claim the prize. When did he make the damned switch?"
That's the thing, they know Ms. Claiborne was wearing the real thing. It stayed around her neck all night and the security detail even took her down to the vault to lock it up in person. The switch must have been made during the party, but Adam only spent minutes in the ballroom. Unless… Kris starts cursing under his breath.
"What?" Megan asks.
"Anoop, bring up the camera footage of Matthew Fullam again."
Anoop's fingers dance across the keys for a moment then he flips the screen for Kris to see. "Like this?" he asks.
Kris shakes his head. "Can I get a full body pic?"
Anoop frowns, but he taps the keys a few times, flipping the screen around again. Kris stares at the picture, eyes narrowed. "Close in on his hands."
Anoop obliges, turning the screen for Kris to see again. There's a fine line of black visible just above the nail beds, as if Matthew was in a hurry when he removed his black nail polish. "Zoom out again," Kris says tightly.
He stares. The nose is too wide and the jaw line doesn’t quite fit, but five years older and a little heavier, it's Monte Fucking Pittman. "Fucking fuck," he exclaims.
Anoop flips the screen back. "Who is it?" he asks.
"Monte Pittman."
Sasha whistles through her teeth. "I thought he was dead."
"So did I," Kris says angrily. He even accompanied Adam to Monte's fucking wake, holding his hand through the entire ceremony while real tears glimmered in Adam's eyes.
"Go through the footage," he says. "Ms. Claiborne must have made the switch herself but somehow Monte got his hands on it."
It takes almost the entire ride to the airport before Anoop finally flips the screen around. The looped video shows Monte brushing past Ms. Claiborne after one of her bathroom breaks - slowed down and closed up you can clearly see him picking a black velvet bag from her purse.
"I found something else, too," Anoop says tiredly, the image on the screen changing to yet another familiar face. "Fucking Ghost."
Tommy Joe "The Ghost" Ratliff, the only hacker in the world who might be better than Anoop, and also one of Adam's best friends.
"What the fuck is this?" Megan asks. "Is Adam putting together his own crew?"
"I don't know," Kris says tiredly. "I don't fucking know."
Adam always works alone. Everyone knows that. He might ask for help with a few of the details, but he never brings anyone in. He once told Kris that he didn't have the patience to be a mastermind and Kris believed him then. Maybe he lied, or maybe he just changed. It doesn't really matter.
The heavy weight in Kris's chest still feels a whole lot like heartache.
--
The first time Kris met Adam he was eighteen years old. It was almost exactly seven years ago and it was also the first time Adam let Kris win, handing over the trophy (a statue if Kris recalls correctly) with a flourish and a twinkling smile.
The second time Kris met Adam he was nineteen and Adam made off with his virginity. It's almost sad, looking back, to think that he spent his entire adult life loving the same man without ever actually dating him.
Kris just doesn't know where to go from here.
--
Kris walks into his apartment nearly half a day later and it’s night again. He's not entirely sure what day it is and he doesn't fucking care. He just wants to faceplant into his bed and forget that the last forty-eight hours ever happened.
He spent the entire plane ride staring out the window with aching eyes, trying to figure out how Adam did it. Even with a crew to help him it all comes back to the fact that Ms. Claiborne must have been in on it. He just can't figure out why.
He dumps his bag in the hallway, resets the alarm and stumbles up the stairs to his bedroom. The light flicks on when Kris walks into the room - Adam's sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing nothing but the Snow Diamond necklace.
"Surprise," he says.
Kris's head spins and he reaches out to steady himself against the doorjamb. "What the fuck?" he says, because it's the first thing that comes to mind.
Adam smiles, spreading his knees and leaning back against his elbows. "I brought you a present," he says.
Kris doesn't know if he means the necklace or the erection curling up against his stomach. "No, seriously." He scrubs a hand over his face; this day stopped making sense yesterday. "What the fuck?"
Adam laughs, sitting up properly again and reaching up to unclasp the chain from around his neck. "I believe you were looking for this," he says, holding the necklace out.
Kris steps forward warily, snatching it from his fingers. "Why did you steal it if you were planning on handing it over all along?" he asks.
He holds the necklace up to the light. The craftsmanship is exquisite. The Snow Diamond is by far the largest stone set into the design, but it's flanked by a myriad of tiny sisters, creating an intricate snowflake that is truly one of a kind.
"To make a point," Adam says.
Kris lowers the necklace and looks back at Adam. He doesn't want to examine the feeling bubbling up in his chest too closely, but it feels a whole lot like relief.
"What kind of point?" he asks.
"That you need me."
Kris blinks. "That I… last time I looked I've been managing just fine without you for the last, oh I don't know, seven years?"
"We both know that isn't true," Adam says, reaching down to pump his cock a couple of times, almost as an afterthought.
It should be obscene, and insanely out of place, but it still makes Kris's mouth water. Kris tears his eyes away from it and gives Adam an unfriendly look. Adam just smiles serenely in return.
Kris busies himself putting the necklace into his hidden safe, without bothering to try and hide its location from Adam. He’s probably already been through it, the nosy fucker.
"Nice code, by the way," Adam says, confirming Kris's suspicions. "I'm flattered."
Kris flushes, his fingers slipping on the dial. "Bastard," he mutters, but he really only has himself to blame. He shouldn't have picked the code with his downstairs brain.
He slams the safe shut and locks it, even if he could have just left it open for all the respect Adam has for his personal property.
"How did you do it?" he asks, pressing his shoulders against the cold metal of the door, changing the subject from whether or not he needs Adam because the answer to that question will never be easy. "I've been trying to figure it out and I just…"
Adam chuckles. "Don't strain yourself, baby," he says. "You'll never be able to guess."
Kris's eyes narrows. He goes through the bits and pieces again, trying to put it all together, and suddenly the answer is right there. "You fucking bought it," he says.
Adam laughs, absolutely delighted. "Awesome, isn't it? She sold it on the one condition that I made it look like a theft… You did take the fake, right?"
"Yeah," Kris admits.
Adam's smile widens. "She's not half as ditzy as she looks, you know. Daddy's been threatening to cut her off for years, so little Ms. Princess is setting up her own pension plan. I got it for a killer price, too."
"And now you're just gonna give it to me?"
"You can consider it your dowry," Adam says happily.
"My… Are you out of your mind?" Kris squeaks.
"And also because I'm sure your client has a suitably depressing sob story. It's one of the Kozicki kids, right?"
Kris nods dumbly. "I didn't know you cared," he says.
Adam shrugs. "I didn't before. In fact, I sort of thought you were insane. Cute, but insane."
Kris snorts. "Yeah, what did you call it? My incredibly lame Robin Hood crusade?"
"Yeah, something to that effect," Adam admits. He looks away, staring at the window for a moment, when he turns back he looks different, pensive almost. "I thought you'd push me away," he says softly. "Once the white hat was firmly on your head, I thought for sure you'd close me out, but you didn't."
Kris's lips tilt up in a wry smile. "You can't force someone to change their colors," he says. "I learned that the hard way."
Adam nods, looking thoughtful. "I was going to quit you," he says. "After Moscow I just… I was going to quit you."
Kris flinches, biting down on his lower lip. Deep down he knew, of course, he knew even before he cuffed Adam to the bed and snuck out in the middle of the night, but he still did it because he had to.
"I kept telling myself it would never work," Adam continues. "That we could never have more than the physical, but then… Then I realized it was never just about the sex, not even in the beginning. However dysfunctional it is, we've been in a relationship for years."
"Yeah," Kris agrees, exhaling slowly. He wasn't banking on Adam ever figuring that out. "We have."
"You got under my skin," Adam says thoughtfully. "But somehow I didn't think I was ready. Then…"
Adam leans back again, but it's not an invitation this time, even if his cock is still just as hard. "I stole a Matisse out of the Hermitage a couple of months ago," he says.
"The Dance? I thought that was you," Kris says. "But you…"
"Brought it back? I know. I wasn't planning to, but I was watching the news while waiting for my ride to the airport and they interviewed this woman… " Adam runs a hand through his hair, making it stand up in odd ends and tufts. "She used to sit below that painting every week, because that's the spot where her late husband proposed to her and looking at it made her feel as if she was still connected to him and I just… I had to take it back, and you did that. You changed me."
Kris smiles. "You changed yourself," he says.
"Maybe," Adam agrees. "But you made me want to." Adam flails one of his hands. "I have a house full of riches, several houses in fact, but lately there's only been one prize worth the effort…"
Kris holds up a hand to stop him, but Adam plows on anyway.
"You," he finishes softly.
Kris's breath sticks in his throat, as he takes in the long, fluid line of Adam's body, his messy hair, smudged eyeliner and the complete and utter sincerity on his face.
"It's been seven years," Adam says. "Don't you think it's time you make an honest man out of me?"
Kris laughs, and laughs, and laughs, and laughs. He laughs until his knees give out and his ass connects with the floor and even then he can't stop. It's been a really, really long fucking day. Or two.
"That's it," Adam says, crossing the floor to tug Kris onto his wobbly feet. "I'm putting you to bed. We can talk more tomorrow."
"I have a meeting with my client in the morning," Kris says, burrowing his face into Adam's neck.
"I'll set the alarm," Adam promises.
"At 7 a.m."
"Are you… Whatever. I'll deal with it."
Fifteen minutes later Kris is safely tucked into bed with Adam spooned up behind him and the alarm set for 6:15 (by Kris, much to Adam's amusement). Adam's erection is snuggly fit into the small of Kris's back and Kris vaguely thinks it's a shame to waste such a fine piece of wood, but he falls asleep before he's managed to twist himself around - Adam's pleased chuckle the last thing he hears.
--
Kris wakes up at 11 a.m. to an empty bed. It takes him about five seconds to fumble into last night's discarded jeans and check the safe. The necklace is gone.
"Fuck," he curses, banging his forehead against the wall. He should have fucking known better than to trust Adam's pretty lies.
He rushes downstairs only to be met by the sweet smell of coffee and the entire crew plus two, lounging on the couches.
"Hey," Adam says, smiling brightly. "You're awake. Wait right there. I'll get you some coffee."
Kris blinks, his mouth falling open. "I… uh… You..." He frowns, looking to the crew for an explanation.
"It was amazing," Allison says, eyes glittering. "He showed up at five past seven introducing himself as your partner and dazzled the old biddy right off her feet."
"And the necklace?" Kris asks, eyes shifting to the kitchen door.
"He just handed it over," Megan says. "Didn't even twinge. We're all so proud of him."
Kris blinks and looks back at his team. "Traitors," he says. His eyes skips to the slight figure curled up next to Sasha, munching on a bowl of dry cereal. Kris's cereal. "And what are you doing here?" he asks.
"I keep asking the same thing," Anoop says, sending an angry look across the coffee table.
Tommy looks up with a slight shrug. "You're out of milk," he says.
"Oh, he's just a little something to sweeten the pot," Adam says, coming out of the kitchen with a coffee cup between his hands. "You won't find anyone better."
"Hey," Anoop protests.
Kris ignores him, because Adam's handing the coffee over with an almost shy smile on his lips.
"You," Kris says, taking the coffee cup out of Adam's hands. "Are in the doghouse. You waltz in here like you own the place, steal my team and my client and… mmph."
It's hard to argue with Adam's tongue in his mouth but Kris still tries, getting about two words out between every kiss, until he gives up and sips his coffee instead. Anoop and Tommy start bickering again, about what Kris can't tell, and he leans his head back against Adam's solid shoulder, content to watch the show.
"So you're actually serious about this," he says, tilting his head back to look up at Adam.
"Yup," Adam confirms. "All of it."
Kris snorts, taking another mouthful of coffee. Tommy and Anoop are still going at it, with the girls acting as slightly biased referees. He lifts his eyes to find Monte sitting by the window, cutting pieces from an apple with a lethal looking knife. Kris opens his mouth, but after a moment he snaps it shut, deciding he just doesn't want to know.
"They'll settle down," Adam says, wrapping his arm around Kris's shoulders, with his eyes still on the fight.
"Yeah," Kris agrees. "Eventually."
Adam's warm and solid against his side, his thumb rubbing a soft circle against Kris's bicep. The coffee's dark and strong, and whenever he tilts his head back he gets kissed for his trouble. For the first time in his life it feels as if everything is exactly as it should be.
"Anoop," he says, interrupting something that looks a whole lot like thumb-wrestling. "How many bugs do you have in the apartment right now?"
"Eight," Anoop and Tommy answers at the same time.
"Oh, no you didn't," Anoop says and they're off again, arguing about whether or not Tommy's allowed to hack Anoop's network.
Kris sighs, snuggling back into Adam who's moved to stand behind him with his arms wrapped around Kris's chest. There's a familiar piece of wood pressed up against his ass, he remembers having plans for that last night.
"Hey," Kris shouts, halting the fight again. "Turn them off."
It takes a few moments of frantic tapping then Tommy punches his fist into the air. "Done," he says smugly.
Anoop pouts. "He can't do that. Can he do that? Those are my bugs."
"You know what," Kris says with a smile. "I don't care. Now all of you… OUT!"
"Mmm," Adam breathes against his ear. "You're so hot when you're bossy."
Kris tilts his head back, offering his lips for another coffee flavored kiss. "I'm also not wearing underwear," he says.
Adam jerks his head up. "Okay," he says. "You heard the boss. OUT."
"You know they're going to eavesdrop, right?" Kris says, watching everyone leave in a disorderly mess with Tommy and Anoop picking up the rear. Everyone gives Monte wide berth, but no one seems to question his glowering inclusion.
"Yeah," Adam says ruefully. "That's probably the only thing Anoop and Tommy will ever agree on."
Kris pushes up on his toes to give Adam a slick lazy kiss. "Wanna know something else?" he asks.
"Sure," Adam answers, eyes sparkling.
"I wouldn't care even if they sold tickets."
"Mmmm… kinky," Adam murmurs, reaching down to grab Kris's ass. "I still have those handcuffs you know."
~The End~
Thanks to:
dansetheblues for alpha reading and invaluable feedback. You rock, BB. :D
elizaria for seal claps, dolphin noises, and general encouragement. I'm so happy I met you. :D
sbb23 for being the bestest beta reader ever! Don't worry, BB, no baby goats were harmed during the writing of this comment. ;D
chosenfire28 for the amazingly prettiful art. You should head over to the art post and heap love on her. :D
Notes:
In case you couldn't tell this fic was heavily inspired by Leverage.
Thanks for reading. <3