NOT PHIL (Oneshot)
NOT PHIL
By: Lady Michaelis
Pairing: Adam Lambert/Kris Allen
Rating: G
Warnings: Fluff?
Genre: Romance/Comedy
Summary: A case of mistaken identity makes Kris' day.
Disclaimers: The usual.
"Phil? Oh my god, thank fuck you're still at work! Listen, I'm in sort of a sticky situation right now; my car won't start--which means I'm going to be sooooo late and Lane will fucking kill me. So, here's what I need you to do..."
Kris Allen grinned in amusement as he let the caller rant away on the other end of the line. Whoever it was had assumed he had dialed the number of someone named Phil instead of Allen's Cupcakes. Most of the time, Kris liked to keep his phone lines open for business-related calls, but it was a dull summer afternoon in LA and he would gladly welcome anything that would give him an excuse to not bore himself to death while waiting for Katy O'Connell to decide which cupcakes she wanted.
"Sorry, man," he finally gave in. "But I'm afraid you have the wrong number; I'm not Phil, you see."
A series of unhappy expletives exploded from the other end, making Kris giggle a little and hold the phone away from his ear.
"Fuck. I didn't even give you a chance to say something, did I? God, I need to stop assuming things. Okay, I'll stop babbling like an idiot and let you go on with your life. I'm so, so sorry."
"Don't worry about it," Kris assured him. "People make mistakes. Heck, I've gotten calls that are far worse than this--that's what you get for being in the cake business."
The guy on the other end laughed, if a little breathlessly. "Right. Thank god you're such a nice guy. For this, I hope you sell lots of cakes today."
Grinning, Kris hung up and wiped his palms on his apron, grateful for the brief interruption in his otherwise run-of-the-mill day. Hopefully, the guy would be able to find this Phil he seemed so keen to talk to; it had certainly sounded urgent.
"Has she made her choice yet?" he turned to ask Allison, his waitress. "I kind of need you to deliver a box of cupcakes to Megan Joy's place."
"She's still poking around and asking lots of questions," Allison grinned. "Don't worry; I'm withholding information about your personal life. Oh, and if you could use an extra set of hands, I could ask Archie to make the delivery for us."
"You are heaven-sent," Kris said firmly, setting the box on the counter. "Tell him I'll provide free entrance and a front-row table for David Cook and the Anthemic tonight if he's up to making three more deliveries today."
"Done and done." Allison trotted off dutifully. "Also, the phone is ringing again."
Kris hurried back to his office to pick up the call. "Allen's Cupcakes, this is Kris speaking."
"...damn. You're still not Phil."
"No, I'm not." Kris' tone was laced with amusement. "Are you sure you haven't misplaced his number?"
"Of course I'm sure!" the guy replied defensively. "I'm just calling the number he gave me. And because he mixed up his digits, I am going to be late for a very important guest appearance and my assistant is going to wring my neck until my hair turns back to ginger."
Kris leaned back in his seat. "Okay, so which celebrity do I have the pleasure of speaking to?"
A laugh. "Damn, you catch on fast. I was going to make you guess, but since you're being so nice to my stupid self, I'll let it go. Hi, I'm Adam Lambert."
"As in Grammy-nominated recording artist Adam Lambert?" Kris could hardly believe it. "I'm a fan, man--a big one. I just don't run around unleashing my hidden Glambert on social networking sites."
"Good, good," Lambert was sounding more at ease by the second. "I'm just lucky that I got you on the phone instead of someone who does unleash his or her hidden Glambert on social networking sites."
"Wait, aren't you supposed to be on Leno today?" Kris blinked. "Don't tell me this is what you're missing!"
"Sadly, yes," Lambert sighed dramatically. "And this is all because I can't find Phil--he's my assistant's assistant. Woe is me."
"Oh, this is not the end of the world," Kris chastised him gently. "Go call Lane; she'll get you out of this mess. I know she'll probably kick your ass--I've seen her on TV; she looks like a force to be reckoned with--and maybe even do something worse, but facing her wrath is so much better than staying where you are and looking stupid."
"You, Mister Allen, are a lifesaver!" Lambert laughed. "Thanks; I'll do just that--don't judge me if you see me flying across the room at some point during the end of the show."
"My TV is turned on and is ready to showcase your silliness," Kris said teasingly. "Good luck getting there before the ending credits begin to roll."
"I'll give you a shoutout if I do," Lambert promised. "Also...can I call you again sometime? Under less embarrassing circumstances, of course."
Kris felt his cheeks heating up. "I'd like that, yeah. As long as you ask for Kris, of course."
"Definitely. I'll call you after the show, Kris."
As soon as Kris hung up, the phone began to ring again.
"Allen's Cupcakes."
"...Phil?"
"Adam, not now."
By: Lady Michaelis
Pairing: Adam Lambert/Kris Allen
Rating: G
Warnings: Fluff?
Genre: Romance/Comedy
Summary: A case of mistaken identity makes Kris' day.
Disclaimers: The usual.
"Phil? Oh my god, thank fuck you're still at work! Listen, I'm in sort of a sticky situation right now; my car won't start--which means I'm going to be sooooo late and Lane will fucking kill me. So, here's what I need you to do..."
Kris Allen grinned in amusement as he let the caller rant away on the other end of the line. Whoever it was had assumed he had dialed the number of someone named Phil instead of Allen's Cupcakes. Most of the time, Kris liked to keep his phone lines open for business-related calls, but it was a dull summer afternoon in LA and he would gladly welcome anything that would give him an excuse to not bore himself to death while waiting for Katy O'Connell to decide which cupcakes she wanted.
"Sorry, man," he finally gave in. "But I'm afraid you have the wrong number; I'm not Phil, you see."
A series of unhappy expletives exploded from the other end, making Kris giggle a little and hold the phone away from his ear.
"Fuck. I didn't even give you a chance to say something, did I? God, I need to stop assuming things. Okay, I'll stop babbling like an idiot and let you go on with your life. I'm so, so sorry."
"Don't worry about it," Kris assured him. "People make mistakes. Heck, I've gotten calls that are far worse than this--that's what you get for being in the cake business."
The guy on the other end laughed, if a little breathlessly. "Right. Thank god you're such a nice guy. For this, I hope you sell lots of cakes today."
Grinning, Kris hung up and wiped his palms on his apron, grateful for the brief interruption in his otherwise run-of-the-mill day. Hopefully, the guy would be able to find this Phil he seemed so keen to talk to; it had certainly sounded urgent.
"Has she made her choice yet?" he turned to ask Allison, his waitress. "I kind of need you to deliver a box of cupcakes to Megan Joy's place."
"She's still poking around and asking lots of questions," Allison grinned. "Don't worry; I'm withholding information about your personal life. Oh, and if you could use an extra set of hands, I could ask Archie to make the delivery for us."
"You are heaven-sent," Kris said firmly, setting the box on the counter. "Tell him I'll provide free entrance and a front-row table for David Cook and the Anthemic tonight if he's up to making three more deliveries today."
"Done and done." Allison trotted off dutifully. "Also, the phone is ringing again."
Kris hurried back to his office to pick up the call. "Allen's Cupcakes, this is Kris speaking."
"...damn. You're still not Phil."
"No, I'm not." Kris' tone was laced with amusement. "Are you sure you haven't misplaced his number?"
"Of course I'm sure!" the guy replied defensively. "I'm just calling the number he gave me. And because he mixed up his digits, I am going to be late for a very important guest appearance and my assistant is going to wring my neck until my hair turns back to ginger."
Kris leaned back in his seat. "Okay, so which celebrity do I have the pleasure of speaking to?"
A laugh. "Damn, you catch on fast. I was going to make you guess, but since you're being so nice to my stupid self, I'll let it go. Hi, I'm Adam Lambert."
"As in Grammy-nominated recording artist Adam Lambert?" Kris could hardly believe it. "I'm a fan, man--a big one. I just don't run around unleashing my hidden Glambert on social networking sites."
"Good, good," Lambert was sounding more at ease by the second. "I'm just lucky that I got you on the phone instead of someone who does unleash his or her hidden Glambert on social networking sites."
"Wait, aren't you supposed to be on Leno today?" Kris blinked. "Don't tell me this is what you're missing!"
"Sadly, yes," Lambert sighed dramatically. "And this is all because I can't find Phil--he's my assistant's assistant. Woe is me."
"Oh, this is not the end of the world," Kris chastised him gently. "Go call Lane; she'll get you out of this mess. I know she'll probably kick your ass--I've seen her on TV; she looks like a force to be reckoned with--and maybe even do something worse, but facing her wrath is so much better than staying where you are and looking stupid."
"You, Mister Allen, are a lifesaver!" Lambert laughed. "Thanks; I'll do just that--don't judge me if you see me flying across the room at some point during the end of the show."
"My TV is turned on and is ready to showcase your silliness," Kris said teasingly. "Good luck getting there before the ending credits begin to roll."
"I'll give you a shoutout if I do," Lambert promised. "Also...can I call you again sometime? Under less embarrassing circumstances, of course."
Kris felt his cheeks heating up. "I'd like that, yeah. As long as you ask for Kris, of course."
"Definitely. I'll call you after the show, Kris."
As soon as Kris hung up, the phone began to ring again.
"Allen's Cupcakes."
"...Phil?"
"Adam, not now."