Fanfic: Once Five Years Pass (2/9)
Title: Once Five years Pass
Author: Radiogaga33
Pairing: Kris/Adam
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimers: Kris, Adam, etc are their own people. They belong to themselves, not to me. No claims to any copyrights, trademarks, or any other intellectual property. This is purely a work of fiction from my very idle mind.
Notes: So, here's part 2 of my very humble first attempt at writing fanfic. This part jumps from the future to the past...laying the groundwork. Answering some of the questions raised in chapter 1. But not all! Suspense is healthy. Thanks for the comments. Lemme know what you think. I'll try to post the 3rd part in a bit--soon as I clean it up edit-wise. Comments welcome!
Chapter 1 is here: http://community.livejournal.com/kradam_ai/364992.html
Once Five Years Pass (A Kradam fanfic)
Chapter 2: A Little Lost
September, 2014
Adam Lambert flipped the switch by the door, blinking quickly as iridescent light flooded the foyer. He heard the distant sound of the limousine that had whisked him home from the Kiss and Tell tour plane at LAX pulling away. He felt a little confused, temporarily overcome by that shift in equilibrium that hits a traveler returning home after a lengthy journey. Los Angeles. Home. Could he really ever call any place home again? He shook the question from his mind. No, he wouldn’t give in to the despair tonight.
Adam walked up the curving staircase, dragging a suitcase and black guitar case behind him. His bedroom was a study in opulence, lush furnishings and eye-catching artwork decadent enough to make a pasha turn green with envy. It was mostly Drake’s doing. He smiled at the thought of his old friend and once upon a time lover. A very distant memory now, true but a happy one nonetheless. Adam had too few happy memories to be picky.
The guitar case he had dragged in with him caught his eye. For the thousandth time in the last few months he wondered again why he had bought the thing. He sat on the floor and flipped open the case, taking in the play of the bedroom lights on the gleaming wood. It was an exact replica of Kris’s old guitar. And there it was, the despair, hitting him hard all over again. Kris Allen. Would he ever be free of the memories? "Last night is over. It was a mistake. Everything that happened was a mistake!" Adam laid down on the floor, boneless, empty. It was going to be another long night.
* * *
2009
Kris had caught Adam's eye right away when they had all descended on Hollywood. Somehow, that shock of brown hair and crooked smile had managed to stand out among the posers, pretenders, and wannabes. Adam had taken in the plain plaid shirt, worn jeans and unassuming air and had him pegged for Midwestern hick in two seconds flat. Cute Midwestern hick. And just his type too with that boy-next door look about him and the abundance of charm he could feel even from a distance. A worthwhile distraction.
As if feeling Adam’s gaze on him, Kris had suddenly looked up, his soft brown eyes locking with Adam’s sharp blue ones. Feeling like shaking up the country boy a bit, Adam had winked suggestively, his lips curling up to give his best Elvis. Kris had winked right back and laughed as he watched the surprise race across Adam’s face. Kris Allen gave as good as he got. Always. Adam liked him immediately.
By the end of Hollywood week, they had gravitated towards each other somehow. And when the Top 36 rounds began, Adam and Kris were already fast friends, bouncing ideas of each other, rooting for each other, and for Allison, the link that completed their newly forged chain. By then, Adam had learned more than he had ever wanted to know about Arkansas, the people, the way of life, the cheese dip (he decided to take Kris’s word on its greatness), and the perfectly safe slice of Americana married life his new friend lived.
Adam was crushed at first to discover his distraction would remain precisely that. Kris wasn’t free. It wouldn’t do to do indulge himself in that leap his heart took every time he spied that shock of brown hair and steady, soft, brown eyes. No. It wouldn’t do to fantasize about those small, strong hands tracing a line down his spine-just for a little while. Snap out of it Adam! His mind had admonished more than once. He knew better than to indulge in exercises in futility.
* * *
Kris stared at Adam’s reflection in the dressing room mirror as Sandy, the makeup artist, buzzed about his new friend, getting him camera ready. He traced over the wild black hair with its playful blue streak, the arched black eyebrows, the piercing blue eyes, and the scattered freckles. He loved that best, Adam’s freckles, even if Adam himself didn’t care for them. “I look like a connect the dots puzzle gone nuts.” He had laughed out loud when Adam had made that pronouncement. He always laughed when he was with Adam.
Adam. Adam was…like a rush of blood to the head. That’s what Kris had decided the night before as Adam had talked a mile a minute, cracking jokes and dishing out snarky little takes on their fellow contestants. “Ooh kitty’s got claws! I like,” Allison had joked, as Adam had raved on.
He had noticed Adam the moment he walked into the Idol building. Not noticing the man would be a Herculean feat, Kris had decided. He cut an impressive figure, tall and dark, intimidating, with swagger to spare. Kris had liked him immediately. Especially after Adam had played with him from across the room and he’d managed to surprise the rough-edged Californian. Now, it seemed like he’d spent every waking moment with the older man since Hollywood week began. He told himself it was only for laughs. Nothing at all to do with that other feeling he couldn’t name-the one that had raced through him too quickly for him to examine that first day, when Adam had winked at him.
Back home, Kris was sure of who he was, what he was. He knew his shortcomings and his strengths. His wants. But here, in the glare of California sunshine and intense competition, his certainty was being slowly eroded. He was falling.
I’m just a little lost is all. He told himself as he watched Sandy’s brush attack Adam’s freckles, pointedly ignoring the fact that for the second time that day, he had to tamp down the desire to see where they led. No-not desire. Just curiosity. It killed the cat, his wicked mind returned. Good thing I’m not a cat then. No, definitely not desire. I’m just a little lost is all.
“What?” Adam asked, a bemused look on his face. Kris was shaken out of his reverie by the sudden question.
“Nothing.” Kris returned, embarrassed to have been caught staring.
“You still nervous about tonight?” Adam looked concerned. More freckles succumbed to a fresh layer of foundation.
“Yes. No. I mean, yes, a little…I’ve gotten all of 10 seconds of airtime so far. I’m basically cannon fodder at this point.”
“You’re not cannon fodder.”
“Right.” The makeup artist was finally done.
“I’m ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille,” Adam purred, winking at Kris in the mirror. They both said goodbye as the makeup girl left-ten other idols needed to be made camera ready afterall. Adam walked towards Kris and placed his hands on the smaller man’s shoulders.
“You’re going to be fine, you know.”
“Ah, who knows…”
“I know. I believe in you.”
Kris stared up at Adam’s earnest face, the heat from Adam’s hand comforting him, discomfiting him. A contradiction, he knew. His gaze settled on Adam’s mouth and the freckle that played there on his bottom lip. Now there was one freckle that always fought the good fight, makeup brushes be damned.
“Kris?” Damn. Twice now he’d been caught staring.
“Yeah, thanks. I really appreciate it. I mean it.”
“Good. Kill it tonight. ‘Cos I know I am. And I’m not getting shipped off to the Idol mansion without you. And Allie.”
“Like we’d let you have all the fun.”
Kris got dressed after Adam headed out to find Allison, his shoulders still curiously warm from the brief contact with Adam. He felt odd. Giddy, almost. He told himself it was the nervousness of performing for votes for the first time. It couldn’t be because Adam had touched him.
* * *
Adam watched his new roommate toss his guitar case on the bed closest to the door.
“I guess that one’s yours then,” he said, heading for the other bed in the room as the cameraman cleared out of their space.
“You best believe it.” Kris jumped on the bed next to the guitar case, turning his face sideways to catch the sunshine streaming into the room. “How funny is it that we got drafted to be roommates?”
Adam didn’t know that funny was the word he’d use to describe the situation. Frustrating. Now there was a more fitting adjective. Figures that the universe would screw with him by putting the one guy he found attractive in the lot within 10 feet of him every blessed night.
For the next few weeks it was a constant torment. Kris smiling his crooked smile as they talked late into the night. Kris strumming on his guitar. Kris climbing out of bed in the morning, his brown hair mussed as if he’s just been made love to. As if Adam had just made love to him. Kris, coming out of the bathroom, his hair wet, his body glowing from the heat of the shower. It was distracting. No, not distracting. It was downright cruel. To be continually tempted with what he couldn’t have.
Are you so sure you can’t have him? His mind would whisper wickedly at night, as he lay awake long after Kris had drifted off into blissful oblivion. There had been times, moments so quick he barely registered them while they were happening. Moments when he could have sworn there was…something. Something brief and undefined, yes, but something nonetheless.
Kris wanting him? A ridiculous notion. Adam didn’t trade in ridiculous notions.
And then all hell broke loose courtesy of a certain newscaster.
* * *
Kris woke up a bit confused. As he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, he saw that the room was still dark, bathed only in the dim light from the moon and the hallway lighting filtering in through the bottom of the door. What had woken him up? Kris, looked across the room and suddenly figured it out.
Adam sat cross legged on his bed, his hair rumpled from repeatedly running his fingers through it, his fingers tapping at the laptop in front him, his face drawn with worry.
“Adam, what is going on? Are you okay?”
“No. You should see this. This O’Reilly thing is all over the net. I mean, does the man realize voting has started?!”
They had all been shocked the night before as Bill O’Reilly has sermonized about a certain Adam Lambert and whether he could make it through Idol with gay pictures of him scattered across the net. The fact portrayed by the pictures hadn’t been a surprise to any of them. Adam was open with them. Adam had been worried, Kris knew. Not because of any suggestion that he was gay, but because of the effect it might have on his chances-especially with “middle America” controlling one’s destiny.
But even so, Kris hadn’t realized how much it had shaken the normally super-confident man. He climbed out of his bed and padded over to Adam’s.
“Yeah, it’s a bad time for all this to happen.”
“You think?” Kris hesitated for a moment. An upset Adam was new territory.
“You really shouldn’t worry about this.”
“I know. I should stay strong, blah, blah, blah. But…” He trailed off, looking dangerously close to actually crying.
Kris leaned down, shut the computer, and placed it on the floor. He climbed onto Adam’s bed as Adam shifted a little, making space for him. Their legs touched as they faced each other on Adam’s bed. Kris leaned in even closer and cupped the side of Adam’s face with his hands, stroking his fingers across the freckled skin, trying to comfort his friend. Adam leaned into Kris’s hand, turning his face to place a kiss there. The small contact made Kris feel like he’d been branded with fire. His fingers tightened for a moment as he tried to steady himself, hyperaware of the blue eyes that had turned back to his face, the blue grey luminous even in the dark of the night.
“Kris…?”
Kris mentally shook himself. “Sorry. I just want you to know that it’s going to be okay. It’s going to blow over. These things always do.”
“You really think so?”
“Well, maybe not as quickly as you might want it to. But you’re not going to get voted off the show because of it. You’re incredible up there. Week after week. The rest of us should just go home already.”
Kris got the laugh he wanted. Ah, there was his friend again. The almost-defeated stranger he had woken up to disappeared. He dropped him hand from Adam’s face reluctantly.
“Have I ever told you how much I appreciate the fact that you are so comfortable touching me?” Adam’s eyes bore into Kris.
“What? Why would I be uncomfortable? Why wouldn’t I touch you?”
“It’s just, well, most straight guys I know…they’re cool with me and all but it’s a small thing, a subtle thing really…you notice eventually how they always go out their way to avoid contact. But you don’t.” Adam’s eyes searched Kris’s face. “You never avoid me. Why is that?”
Because I like it. Kris’s wicked mind offered. He would die before admitting it.
“Because you’re my friend, clown. I don’t care what the protocol is. I touch my friends, no matter who or what they are.”
“So, fuck the protocol then?”
“Yes, fuck the protocol.” Kris smiled at Adam, watching his friend’s lips curl up in an answering smile.
“So, no more worry about this, right?”
“No, as the dearly departed Freddie said once, on with the fucking show,” Adam replied.
“Uh, I don’t think that’s exactly how he said it.”
“Close enough!”
“I’m just saying, if you’re going to quote the immortal Freddie, get it straight, Lambert.”
“Fuck you, Allen,” Adam returned, shoving at Kris’s shoulder playfully.
“If you’re lucky.”
They froze. Shit. Why had he said that? Dumb, dumb, dumb. Suddenly he was hyper aware of their proximity. They had gotten closer somehow, legs fully pressed against each other, leaning forward so their faces were close enough to feel each other’s breath. For a moment, Kris could have sworn the air between vibrated. Adam came to the rescue.
“Too bad I’ve always had shit luck. Le sigh.” Adam pouted dramatically.
Kris laughed, happy for the reprieve.
“So you’re good?”
“I’m good.” Kris climbed off the bed. Before he could walk off, Adam grabbed his arm.
“Kris…thank you.” Those piercing blue eyes cut deep into him.
“Anytime.”
What he did next left him shocked for days. Suddenly, Kris found himself leaning down, his palm cupping Adam’s face again, his lips grazing Adam’s skin as he planted a small kiss at the corner of Adam’s mouth. Kris ignored the shock that colored Adam’s face as he straightened up. He went to the safety of his bed quickly, mumbling a barely audible goodnight. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he would make sense of what he had just done.
* * *
Adam Lambert was a wreck. It wasn’t the competition. No, that he was confident about. After receiving a standing ovation from Mr. Cowell himself, how could he not be? No, the competition wasn’t to blame, Kris Allen was.
Was he aware of what he did to Adam, just by existing? Adam doubted it. If Kris was aware, he wouldn’t be so quick to touch him always. Kris always found a way to be intimate with him wherever they were. In the makeup room, he’d run his fingers through Adam’s hair. In the wardrobe room, he would run his hands across Adam’s body, smoothing out invisible wrinkles. Even on television, in front of an audience of millions, he would press this thigh against Adam, lean into him, leaving him breathless.
If he didn’t know better, he would swear that Kris liked to touch him, that Kris wanted him. Those brief moments of that amorphous “something” were more frequent now, lasting longer, teasing him cruelly.
A few days ago, on a rare afternoon off, he had watched Kris strumming his guitar, the sunlight forming a halo around him as he sang. He looked like a fallen angel. Adam could have sworn he’d never see anything more beautiful. And perhaps he never would again.
“I wish I knew how to play,” he had said as Kris’s nimble fingers moved over the guitar strings.
“It’s not that hard to learn. Come here.” He had padded over and sat down beside Kris, cradling the guitar as Kris had moved his fingers, showing him how to make the strings sing. He had sat there with Kris body pressed against him, Kris’s hands over his, learning the opening guitar chords for “Falling Slowly.” The irony of the song choice wasn’t lost on him. And after he had learned what he could Kris’s hands had remained on his, his body had stayed pressed against him-like Kris didn’t want to move away. It was fucking cruel.
A week later, Adam had hurried into their room after Kris as the other man had sworn and raised all hell, upset about the incident that had just occurred with their driver.
“I can’t believe the nerve of that asshole to say something like that to you. Oh, he’s okay with you because you’re not ‘girly’? Fucking prejudiced pissant!” Kris was livid.
“Kris calm down.”
“No, I don’t want to calm down. Where did he get off talking to you like that? And saying it like you should be grateful or something.”
“Kris, calm down or we’re going to have the entire house in here.”
“I’m sorry,” Kris said, quieter now but still angry. “No one should talk to you like that.”
“It’s no big deal, I’m used to it.”
“You shouldn’t be. It shouldn’t be that way.”
“It’s okay. Besides, what are you going to do, kick everyone’s ass who makes a shit comment to me?”
“If I have to.” Adam laughed at the thought of Kris acting as personal bodyguard to him.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.” Adam laughed harder. “Just the thought of you having to defend me. I mean, look at us.” Adam gestured between them.
Kris finally cracked a smile. It was a bit ridiculous, the thought of him protecting the taller, bigger, stronger man.
“All the same, I don’t have to like it. You’re my friend. I love my friends and I protect what I love.”
Adam felt like he’d been hit with a sledgehammer. Had he heard that straight?
“What?” Kris asked.
“Do you realize what you just said?”
“What did I say?” Kris looked confused.
“You basically just said you love me.” Adam watched Kris warily.
“Uh…yeah, I guess I just did.”
Suddenly Kris was standing in front of him, his hands resting on Adam’s waist.
“You’re my friend. Of course I love you.”
They were both silent for a long moment, brown eyes staring into blue ones. It would be so easy to lean down, to take those slightly parted lips with his. Did Kris want him to? There was something there. It was raw and undefined but it was there. It would be so easy.
[To be continued]