Drabble: Sixteen Seconds (I'm Happy Just To Dance With You)
Title: Sixteen Seconds (I'm Happy Just To Dance With You)
Author: pennilesspoet17
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Kradam
Genre: Angst; UST
Type: Idol/Tour
Word count: 512
Summary: Kris wears a silver band around one of his fingers. A symbol, an oath, a shield. It glares at Adam, it glistens in the low light, it whispers truths that Adam doesn’t want to hear.
Warning: Liberal use of Beatles' song titles/lyrics. Unresolved Sexual Tension.
Notes: This might be sort of breaking the rules, in that there is not a literal kiss here. It's a symbolic kiss. Because, you know, I'm ~deep like that. (Not)
Adam has a bit of an obsession with Kris’s hands.
To be specific, he’s obsessed with his fingers. Long, slender fingers, almost dainty, but roughened with calluses from hours and hours playing guitar.
He first really noticed Kris’s fingers when he was playing his guitar, actually. They were sitting in some holding area, waiting for the production team to tell them what was going to happen next. It was early in the Idol competition, and Adam had formed only a few tenuous friendships. The day was long, grueling, and boring, and it was some time after noon when Kris had picked up his acoustic guitar, and began strumming out a couple of familiar Beatles tunes. Adam watched Kris’s fingers as they plucked at taut strings, and caressed frets. He watched as they splayed out, flat against the wooden body of the guitar, then thumped out a slow rhythm before moving up to strum across the strings again, slowly, then quickly, then slowly again. A whisper, a shout, a tease, a promise.
Adam tries not to imagine those fingers running up his arm, wrapping around his wrist. He tries not to imagine the way they would feel dancing across his chest, or caressing his cheek. He tries not to wonder what it would be like to feel those fingers, deft and sure, strumming his lips like a chord, pressing into him like a song.
Kris wears a silver band around one of his fingers. A symbol, an oath, a shield. It glares at Adam, it glistens in the low light, it whispers truths that Adam doesn’t want to hear.
Adam tries to keep his eyes away from Kris’s hands. Away from his soft eyes. When Kris plays, Adam settles for a neutral spot, like Kris’s shoulder. His eyes always betray him though; always land on his hands.
They are in New York; thousands of miles from the place where they first met, from the place where Adam watched Kris turn the awkward Idol trophy over in his hands. Kris is humming his way through the same song Adam had first heard him sing, all those weeks ago.
He doesn’t realize he’s been staring; doesn’t realize the music has stopped. He starts when he sees Kris crossing the room to stand in front of him, in the doorway where he’s been hovering, watching, obsessing. Kris is standing close now, his warm breath on Adam’s collarbone, his eyes looking straight ahead. He places his hand over Adam’s heart, and Adam looks down. Sees the hand laying flat against his chest. A soft touch. A confession. A kiss. A betrayal.
A heartbeat. Two. Four. Six. Kris pulls away, steps back. Adam releases a loud, shaky breath. Eight. Ten. Kris wraps his hand around Adam’s, and Adam can feel the calluses, can feel Kris’s pulse through his fingers. Fingers that give a short, tight squeeze. Twelve. Fourteen. He lets Adam’s fingers go, slides past him and out the door.
Sixteen.
Takes Adam’s heart with him.
.
Now with a less-angsty companion piece!
Author: pennilesspoet17
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Kradam
Genre: Angst; UST
Type: Idol/Tour
Word count: 512
Summary: Kris wears a silver band around one of his fingers. A symbol, an oath, a shield. It glares at Adam, it glistens in the low light, it whispers truths that Adam doesn’t want to hear.
Warning: Liberal use of Beatles' song titles/lyrics. Unresolved Sexual Tension.
Notes: This might be sort of breaking the rules, in that there is not a literal kiss here. It's a symbolic kiss. Because, you know, I'm ~deep like that. (Not)
Adam has a bit of an obsession with Kris’s hands.
To be specific, he’s obsessed with his fingers. Long, slender fingers, almost dainty, but roughened with calluses from hours and hours playing guitar.
He first really noticed Kris’s fingers when he was playing his guitar, actually. They were sitting in some holding area, waiting for the production team to tell them what was going to happen next. It was early in the Idol competition, and Adam had formed only a few tenuous friendships. The day was long, grueling, and boring, and it was some time after noon when Kris had picked up his acoustic guitar, and began strumming out a couple of familiar Beatles tunes. Adam watched Kris’s fingers as they plucked at taut strings, and caressed frets. He watched as they splayed out, flat against the wooden body of the guitar, then thumped out a slow rhythm before moving up to strum across the strings again, slowly, then quickly, then slowly again. A whisper, a shout, a tease, a promise.
Adam tries not to imagine those fingers running up his arm, wrapping around his wrist. He tries not to imagine the way they would feel dancing across his chest, or caressing his cheek. He tries not to wonder what it would be like to feel those fingers, deft and sure, strumming his lips like a chord, pressing into him like a song.
Kris wears a silver band around one of his fingers. A symbol, an oath, a shield. It glares at Adam, it glistens in the low light, it whispers truths that Adam doesn’t want to hear.
Adam tries to keep his eyes away from Kris’s hands. Away from his soft eyes. When Kris plays, Adam settles for a neutral spot, like Kris’s shoulder. His eyes always betray him though; always land on his hands.
They are in New York; thousands of miles from the place where they first met, from the place where Adam watched Kris turn the awkward Idol trophy over in his hands. Kris is humming his way through the same song Adam had first heard him sing, all those weeks ago.
He doesn’t realize he’s been staring; doesn’t realize the music has stopped. He starts when he sees Kris crossing the room to stand in front of him, in the doorway where he’s been hovering, watching, obsessing. Kris is standing close now, his warm breath on Adam’s collarbone, his eyes looking straight ahead. He places his hand over Adam’s heart, and Adam looks down. Sees the hand laying flat against his chest. A soft touch. A confession. A kiss. A betrayal.
A heartbeat. Two. Four. Six. Kris pulls away, steps back. Adam releases a loud, shaky breath. Eight. Ten. Kris wraps his hand around Adam’s, and Adam can feel the calluses, can feel Kris’s pulse through his fingers. Fingers that give a short, tight squeeze. Twelve. Fourteen. He lets Adam’s fingers go, slides past him and out the door.
Sixteen.
Takes Adam’s heart with him.
.
Now with a less-angsty companion piece!