Three improbable kisses.
There's another round of kradam_kiss going on, and I wrote stuff. For some reason, that comm gets me writing. I want to do more of these and probably will before this round of KK ends, but I figure I should post what I've got. To be more honest: last night on the phone thistle90 was like, "Why haven't you posted those things already?"
To get ideas, I asked some of my favorite people in fandom/the universe to name their favorite kinds of AU. If you have a favorite flavor of AU and you are pretty sure that I love you, I have made a poll for that.
All of these are Adam Lambert/Kris Allen, nothing above a PG-13.
*
For callmesandy, Kris has amnesia! Some possible very minor consent issues in this one.
Kris's eyes began to flutter open, and Adam shouted for the nurse. Two weeks earlier at a show, a speaker had fallen on Kris's head, knocking him out cold, and he'd been unconscious ever since. the doctors had said to give it time: he'd wake up when the swelling went down. Kris's parents and Katy had been taking turns keeping vigil, and all were exhausted. Adam had offered to give them all a break by taking a few shifts by Kris's side.
And now Kris was waking up, and his family was missing it.
Adam took Kris's hand, and Kris squeezed it weakly. "You're back!" Adam shrieked, probably waking the entire hallway. More sedately, he repeated, "You're back."
The nurse came, took Kris's vitals, and took the tube out of his throat. She asked him a few questions: name, date, who's the President? Kris got two out of three, but the "name" one stumped him. "How can I not know who I am?" Kris's voice was a hoarse whisper. "How can I not know who you are?"
"You don't remember anything?" Adam said, petting Kris's hand.
"I remember math. And presidents. And, like, I think I could ride a bike or drive a car. I know a lot of songs. But I don't remember my life."
Adam didn't know where to start. Kim and Neil should have been the ones to fill him in - they'd been there for Kris's life. Come to think of it, this would have been a really good time to call them and tell the to come to the hospital.
"It must be hard for you," Kris said. "We must have, you know, had all this time, and now it's just... gone. For me."
"Why would you assume we're together?" In his chair, Adam swished his hips a little, unable to keep from flirting.
"You're here at four in the morning, holding my hand," Kris said. "And you're, you're beautiful, so I would be lucky."
Adam knew he should have been setting Kris straight and telling him about Katy. But he liked the fantasy of Kris being in love with him, having always been in love with him. Did Kris's marriage even count if he had no recollection of it?
Adam got up and leaned over Kris to kiss his forehead. "Welcome back, baby."
*
My own favorite AU (other than tentacle porn, which I am not brave enough to attempt): wildly anachronistic historical fiction. Specifically, in this case, English Restoration actors.
Adam Lambert was a notorious libertine and a rumoured Jew with a voice like a tortured angel's, but it was Kristopher Allen whose name was largest on the bill. He'd changed the spelling to put it there, so as not to compete with a certain Christopher Allen who performed puppet plays of Bible tales. Mr Cowell, the proprietor of the Bear & Unicorn, liked the "K": he said there was something Greek about it. Mr Cowell said also that Kristopher was possessed of a humble demeanour that appealed to their fairer clientele and kept the censors away. This was all the best for Mr Lambert's act, in which he sang familiar melodies with new lyrics, most often about the delicious peach-like roundness of boys' bottoms, while tossing his exquisitely curling mane and strutting cock-like in cod-tight britches and bejewelled high-heeled boots. Mr Lambert performed last, to close the show and also to allow for the discreet exit of the easily offended.
Kristopher lodged with Mr Lambert in a suite of rooms above the Bear & Unicorn, and they surprised one another by becoming fond friends. Kristopher kept his distance when Mr Lambert brought home medlar-cheeked boys plucked from that night's public, and Mr Lambert listened patiently as Kristopher pined for his Kate, whom he'd left behind in Pembrokeshire when he'd come to London to pursue the stage.
One morning, as another of Mr Lambert's conquest slipped shamefacedly out into the rain, and Kristopher brewed tea over the fire, Kristopher said, "Sir, one thing puzzles me."
"What's that?" Mr Lambert said, emerging from his bedchamber in an unconscionable state of sweat-sullied undress.
"With all the, er, young men who come and go -"
"And come and come," Mr Lambert said, laughing at his own jest.
"Why have I never been one of them?"
"Why, I'd never defile the sacred bonds of marriage. He clutched Kristopher's hand with mock gravity. "Nor the sacred bonds of friendship."
"The sacred bonds of friendship," Kristopher said, "need to be fucked, and soundly." He tilted his head back for a kiss, which he received, wetly, as the tea boiled over into the coals.
*
For thexpuzzler, who likes Magic School, and thistle90, who likes secret superpowers, especially creative telekinesis. Some possible minor consent issues in this one, too.
"So what can you do?" The other guy in the waiting room of The Cowell Academy for the Study of Magical Arts is making conversation. He's sitting with his legs wide apart, leaning his weight on his hands between them. He has a Southern accent, a thatch of brown hair that sticks up in front, and a pair of very tight jeans. He is way too cute. Adam hopes his special power has something to do with an enormous dick or no gag reflex.
"I can sing," Adam says.
"And break windows?"
Adam leans toward the other guy. "And bend people to my will."
The guy leans back, away from him, but holds out his hand. "I'm Kris. And that's really cool."
Adam introduces himself and asks what Kris can do. It's only polite.
"I play the piano." He's got this lopsided half-grin that Adam wants to just destroy with his tongue. "With my brain." There's a baby grand in the corner of the room, shined up like a pair of patent leather shoes. Kris tinkles out a few bars of "Fur Elise." "There. I showed you mine, now you show me yours."
"You really don't want me to," Adam says. "Not where my head is right now."
"Try me."
Adam locks his eyes into Kris's and croons the first line of "A Change Is Gonna Come." He watches Kris melt and harden with desire, face flushed, sweat along his brow, erection that he crosses his legs to hide. Adam says, "I try to avoid using my mind control powers to make guys fall in love with me."
"But I asked for it."
"Yeah. You did."
Kris wipes his brow and flutters his eyes. "You can sing some more. If you want."
Adam continues the song. Kris undresses him with his eyes. Literally, button by slow button, peeling off his jacket and the t-shirt underneath, lifting off his necklaces one by one.
"Come over here," Adam says, "and kiss me with your mouth."
To get ideas, I asked some of my favorite people in fandom/the universe to name their favorite kinds of AU. If you have a favorite flavor of AU and you are pretty sure that I love you, I have made a poll for that.
All of these are Adam Lambert/Kris Allen, nothing above a PG-13.
*
For callmesandy, Kris has amnesia! Some possible very minor consent issues in this one.
Kris's eyes began to flutter open, and Adam shouted for the nurse. Two weeks earlier at a show, a speaker had fallen on Kris's head, knocking him out cold, and he'd been unconscious ever since. the doctors had said to give it time: he'd wake up when the swelling went down. Kris's parents and Katy had been taking turns keeping vigil, and all were exhausted. Adam had offered to give them all a break by taking a few shifts by Kris's side.
And now Kris was waking up, and his family was missing it.
Adam took Kris's hand, and Kris squeezed it weakly. "You're back!" Adam shrieked, probably waking the entire hallway. More sedately, he repeated, "You're back."
The nurse came, took Kris's vitals, and took the tube out of his throat. She asked him a few questions: name, date, who's the President? Kris got two out of three, but the "name" one stumped him. "How can I not know who I am?" Kris's voice was a hoarse whisper. "How can I not know who you are?"
"You don't remember anything?" Adam said, petting Kris's hand.
"I remember math. And presidents. And, like, I think I could ride a bike or drive a car. I know a lot of songs. But I don't remember my life."
Adam didn't know where to start. Kim and Neil should have been the ones to fill him in - they'd been there for Kris's life. Come to think of it, this would have been a really good time to call them and tell the to come to the hospital.
"It must be hard for you," Kris said. "We must have, you know, had all this time, and now it's just... gone. For me."
"Why would you assume we're together?" In his chair, Adam swished his hips a little, unable to keep from flirting.
"You're here at four in the morning, holding my hand," Kris said. "And you're, you're beautiful, so I would be lucky."
Adam knew he should have been setting Kris straight and telling him about Katy. But he liked the fantasy of Kris being in love with him, having always been in love with him. Did Kris's marriage even count if he had no recollection of it?
Adam got up and leaned over Kris to kiss his forehead. "Welcome back, baby."
*
My own favorite AU (other than tentacle porn, which I am not brave enough to attempt): wildly anachronistic historical fiction. Specifically, in this case, English Restoration actors.
Adam Lambert was a notorious libertine and a rumoured Jew with a voice like a tortured angel's, but it was Kristopher Allen whose name was largest on the bill. He'd changed the spelling to put it there, so as not to compete with a certain Christopher Allen who performed puppet plays of Bible tales. Mr Cowell, the proprietor of the Bear & Unicorn, liked the "K": he said there was something Greek about it. Mr Cowell said also that Kristopher was possessed of a humble demeanour that appealed to their fairer clientele and kept the censors away. This was all the best for Mr Lambert's act, in which he sang familiar melodies with new lyrics, most often about the delicious peach-like roundness of boys' bottoms, while tossing his exquisitely curling mane and strutting cock-like in cod-tight britches and bejewelled high-heeled boots. Mr Lambert performed last, to close the show and also to allow for the discreet exit of the easily offended.
Kristopher lodged with Mr Lambert in a suite of rooms above the Bear & Unicorn, and they surprised one another by becoming fond friends. Kristopher kept his distance when Mr Lambert brought home medlar-cheeked boys plucked from that night's public, and Mr Lambert listened patiently as Kristopher pined for his Kate, whom he'd left behind in Pembrokeshire when he'd come to London to pursue the stage.
One morning, as another of Mr Lambert's conquest slipped shamefacedly out into the rain, and Kristopher brewed tea over the fire, Kristopher said, "Sir, one thing puzzles me."
"What's that?" Mr Lambert said, emerging from his bedchamber in an unconscionable state of sweat-sullied undress.
"With all the, er, young men who come and go -"
"And come and come," Mr Lambert said, laughing at his own jest.
"Why have I never been one of them?"
"Why, I'd never defile the sacred bonds of marriage. He clutched Kristopher's hand with mock gravity. "Nor the sacred bonds of friendship."
"The sacred bonds of friendship," Kristopher said, "need to be fucked, and soundly." He tilted his head back for a kiss, which he received, wetly, as the tea boiled over into the coals.
*
For thexpuzzler, who likes Magic School, and thistle90, who likes secret superpowers, especially creative telekinesis. Some possible minor consent issues in this one, too.
"So what can you do?" The other guy in the waiting room of The Cowell Academy for the Study of Magical Arts is making conversation. He's sitting with his legs wide apart, leaning his weight on his hands between them. He has a Southern accent, a thatch of brown hair that sticks up in front, and a pair of very tight jeans. He is way too cute. Adam hopes his special power has something to do with an enormous dick or no gag reflex.
"I can sing," Adam says.
"And break windows?"
Adam leans toward the other guy. "And bend people to my will."
The guy leans back, away from him, but holds out his hand. "I'm Kris. And that's really cool."
Adam introduces himself and asks what Kris can do. It's only polite.
"I play the piano." He's got this lopsided half-grin that Adam wants to just destroy with his tongue. "With my brain." There's a baby grand in the corner of the room, shined up like a pair of patent leather shoes. Kris tinkles out a few bars of "Fur Elise." "There. I showed you mine, now you show me yours."
"You really don't want me to," Adam says. "Not where my head is right now."
"Try me."
Adam locks his eyes into Kris's and croons the first line of "A Change Is Gonna Come." He watches Kris melt and harden with desire, face flushed, sweat along his brow, erection that he crosses his legs to hide. Adam says, "I try to avoid using my mind control powers to make guys fall in love with me."
"But I asked for it."
"Yeah. You did."
Kris wipes his brow and flutters his eyes. "You can sing some more. If you want."
Adam continues the song. Kris undresses him with his eyes. Literally, button by slow button, peeling off his jacket and the t-shirt underneath, lifting off his necklaces one by one.
"Come over here," Adam says, "and kiss me with your mouth."