FIC: "So pull me out of this dream"
Title: So pull me out of this dream
Author:misswhy
Pairing: Adam/Kris
Rating: R
Word Count: ~3,700
Song: "The Cynic" by Kashmir feat. David Bowie
Summary: Young, Adam thinks, and innocent. New blood.
Adam wakes up in his empty hotel room, curled up around himself in the right side of the bed. He still wakes up in the right side of the bed. He rolls over, irritated. His head is hurting. He is getting too old for this, waking up like this. He doesn't even know which city he is in. Fucking never-ending tour. He looks around the room - there are empty bottles lying around, with the sad remains of some more questionable party favours. He doesn't even remember if it was just him last night or if he did have a party.
It's a bit of a battle to convince himself to get out of bed, but he's becoming increasingly aware of how much he stinks and he needs to take a piss. He tries not to look in the bathroom mirror - his face is wrecked, day old make-up half washed off by sweat. Then his masochism gets the better of him and he looks properly and notices the reddish stubble and how much his hair needs to be dyed. How tired he looks. Adam sighs and turns away. He needs a shower. Then he'll order breakfast. Call his manager; find out where he is and what he's already late for, if he did something last night that has ended up on some front page. Get yelled at. Same as usual.
He's about halfway through taking the much needed leak when he sees that his cell is lying at the bottom of the toilet bowl, deep under all his yellow piss. Well. Fuck this life.
*
"…And I couldn't just leave it down there, right? God knows what kind of embarrassing pictures it holds, not to mention all my contacts-" He's strapping himself into the passenger seat of his manager's SUV; she's punishing him by claiming that they don't have time for a limo and that he's not in any shape to drive his own car.
"You mean your fuckbuddy-list."
"Well, yeah. That too."
Chloe does not look convinced. Dropping your cell in the toilet in a drunken stupor, peeing all over it and then having to extract it, McGyver-style, seems, to Adam, like a perfectly good excuse for being an hour late, instead of just the usual thirty minutes, but noooo. Everything's his fault. And his poor cell is dead. Worse than dead. Peed on. Maybe he should sell it on Ebay or convince someone that it's art…
"Adam, this is the third arrangement you've blown off this month. People do not think your rock star behaviour is cute anymore."
"I do not think it's cute anymore, Chloe, what do you want me to do?"
Lay off the booze for a while. Stop hanging out with idiots, stop having sex with idiots. Call your mum.
She is silent, looking straight ahead at the traffic. They have had that conversation before, so many times that by now it's a non-conversation. She's given up on him. It wouldn't work anyway, the more she tries to pressure him, the more Adam rebels. He knows it's immature, unprofessional, but… He guesses he just needs a break. A vacation. That, and he's a stubborn fuck who really doesn't want to call his mother.
It used to different, back when he and Brad were still-
But he's not thinking about that.
*
Twelve hours later and he's in the bar of some red-carpet event. He thinks he's suppose to make an appearance for the premier of - something, but maybe he just went out to get drunk. There are reporters, which could indicate the premiere theory, but then, maybe not. After all, him getting drunk in hotel bars and making a fool out of himself has proven to sell surprisingly well. It has something to do which how it all started, Adam has theorized, about how shining he was. How great everyone thought he was going to be. And if there's one thing Hollywood loves to read about, it's a good comeback story, but ‘how the mighty have fallen' will do quite nicely until then.
And it's not even that he's that drunk already, he just couldn't be bothered to really listen when Chloe was telling him about his schedule for today. And anyway, he has his own schedule, which goes something like this: get plastered. Find some cute, young, easily impressed thing, get him/her/them back to the hotel, get laid.
So far so good. Adam leans at the bar, surveying the room. He knows a good deal of people here, has already slept with a fair percentage of them, and he could always just convince some of them for a second round. But that would be boring. Adam is tired of fucking the same kind of glamour boys and starfucker girls and-
Oh. That is different.
There's a stage, Adam has just realized, at the other end of the room. And a really cute, really nervous looking kid with a guitar is getting ready to perform. He's in his early twenties, brown hair, big brown eyes, small and lean. And wearing a plaid shirt and not too tight jeans, that in comparison to what people in this room is wearing looks totally ill-fitting.
Young, Adam thinks, and innocent. New blood.
Then the kid finally gets his rambling introduction over and done with and starts playing. From his outfit Davis would have guessed he'd be some quiet singer/songwriter type, but no, it's some kind of pop-rock, with a catchy beat that the kid sustains by knocking on his guitar with his palms and knuckles, and he can sing. He plays the first number acoustic, then the curtain behind him opens and reveals the rest of the band and they take off and Adam has a goal for tonight, now. That kid. Is so going home with him.
*
He can hear bits and pieces of conversation through the door; the boys are clearly excited about their debut. Adam smiles to himself, babies, he thinks, they're just babies. Then he knocks on the door.
"Groupies welcome!" Someone yells, followed by a round of laughing. Adam opens the door and they fall silent. He looks around - they're four guys and four dropped jaws. Adam leans on the door and smiles at them.
"Oh my god." The guitarist says. "You're..."
"Yeah. I am." Adam says and enters the room. "I just wanted to let you know that I really enjoyed your show." They all seem totally floored by his presence and it gives Adam such a kick. He shakes hands with all of the guys, gives them his most charming smiles. He saves the singer, Kris, for last, hanging on to his hand a few seconds extra, trying to get eye-contact. The guys are really down to earth and humble, chatting freely, except for Kris who keeps in the background, being all shy and starry-eyed. Adam thinks it's adorable.
"You're so full of energy on stage, I'm really impressed. I'm so going to steal whoever writes your songs."
"Oh man, it's all Kris," Matt, the drummer, says. "He writes all the important parts, and well, you've heard him sing."
"Yeah, I have. I really like your voice, Kris."
"You heard that, man?" Matt says to Kris, mock-punching his arm. "Adam Lambert likes your voice. You can die happy now." Kris just smiles and looks down, trying to hide it.
Then the band's manager comes bursting in and orders the guys out mingling.
"Okay you guys, times up, you better be ready to face your fans. That goes for you too, Kris!"
"Hey Joe, have you seen who's here?" Luke the bassist says.
Adam knows their manager from some old tour and says hello. Joe plays nice in front of the babies, but Adam can see that he's wary of him, trying to figure out what he's doing here. Well, he should, Adam thinks, he has seen him fuck his way trough Europe, no wonder if he don't want him messing with his baby-band. But they're adults, Adam decides, they can take care of themselves.
The party goes on and Adam mingles, but he makes sure to keep track of Kris through the evening. He does an okay job of talking to people, and as long as he has one of his band mates to keep him company, he can endure. But as the evening progresses, he is left alone and starts moving toward the corners, trying to hide. Adam punches.
"Hey there. Kris, right?"
Kris has sort of a deer in the headlight expression and Adam takes pity on him. "Relax, honey. You're doing fine. Wanna get some air?" He gives Kris the bottle of water he brought with him and drags him off to the balcony.
*
"…and then I spent a couple of years just travelling, doing missionary work, but really just helping where I could, mostly in Africa. It really leaves its mark on you, doing stuff like that. I wouldn't have traded it for anything. " Kris smiles self-deprecatingly, like he knows how he sounds, or how he would sound if it was anybody but him talking like this, but it's also an honest smile, because he means this shit.
Adam smiles and nods, trying find something appropriate to say. Now that Adam finally has him coached out of his shell, Kris talks a lot. And it's not the usual bragging small talk and sucking up. He's intelligent and interesting and even better looking up close and funny and practically a saint. This is so not how it usually goes. But Adam kind of likes it. He has Kris's unwavering attention and the kid just drips with hero worship; it makes Adam feel a bit more like a rock star than usual, a bit less burnt out. In Kris's eyes he's still every inch the rock god; Kris loves his music, he says, practically blushing, Kris was so inspired by his work, it helped him write his own songs and so on and so forth. It's cute and Adam has absolutely no qualms about monopolizing Kris Allen at his own release party.
The air outside is nice and cool and the noise from the party partly muffled. It's practically cozy. There's a break in their conversation and they just stand side by side leaning on the balustrade, admiring the view of the city lights. Their arms are touching; Adam can feel Kris's body heat through his thin shirt, and a shiver running through him.
"Are you cold?"
"Yeah, um. I should probably go back to the party."
"No, here," Adam takes off his leather jacket and drapes it around Kris's shoulders. "Stay a bit longer, I like talking to you."
Kris laughs a little. "This is surreal. You are surreal."
"No, trust me; it's you who… you're not like anybody else in that room." Adam nods towards the brightly lit room behind him. "You're special."
"Yeah?" Kris laughs. "Why, if I didn't know better, I'd say you where trying to take me home." He tries to sound cocky, but even in this light Adam can see him blush.
"Who says I'm not?" Adam says and kisses him.
*
Adam wakes up in his hotel room, curled around a warm body. For once he doesn't have to make an effort trying to remember last night; spending most of the evening talking to Kris, he didn't actually drink that much. He remembers everything. But where it all made perfect sense last night, today - well.
Kris stirs besides him, yawning and stretching. Adam freezes. Kris turns around, facing him. In the morning light he looks absolutely adorable, Adam will give him that. God, he didn't even close the drapes, what was he thinking?
"Good morning," Kris says, "please tell me you've done this enough times to have some kind of routine for the morning after, because I can feel the awkwardness creeping in on us miles away."
Adam puffs out a surprised laughter. "No, sorry, I got nothing. Last night-" didn't go like it usual does.
"Last night was special." Kris says firmly. Adam can't help breaking eye contact, trying to look away. "It was!" Kris insists, grapping Adam's jaw in a firm grip, forcing him to look to look at him. "Don't be too much of a rock star or whatever to admit that." Adam closes his eyes, trying to think and Kris must have seen something in his face, because Adam feels him sitting up abruptly.
"Right. I'm going to borrow your shower. You should think about this while I'm gone. Or not, whatever." He is gone and Adam flops down on his back. God, when did one night stands become so demanding?
In the shower after Kris has finally left, Adam decides not to feel so down about the whole thing - he did get laid last night, spectacularly so, even with the person he had decided on, he has no hangover to speak of and can still make it to his first appointment on time, so all in all he thinks he should allow himself to call it a win. He's way too hard on himself sometimes - if Kris had thought last night was the start of the romance of his lifetime, well, he hasn't been in this business very long, the poor baby, he'll soon figure out how things work here. At least he'll have a good story to tell, Adam thinks and feels a sting in his chest.
*
The thing is, he seems to constantly end up going to the same parties as Kris Allen. Which isn't weird per say, Kris is new in town after all; his manager wants him to do the rounds, and Adam's just a party animal.
Adam can't help but feel that Kris looks so lost half the time and Adam just takes pity on the kid. Then he finds that Kris seems to be kind of angry at him at first, and that's just funny.
It takes some pouting and bribing, but eventually Kris seems to want to talk to him, relax around him. Adam knows it helps that he's the only one here Kris thinks he really knows. He might not like what he has found underneath the glittery exterior, but at least there are no more surprises. Adam realizes that Kris somehow thinks he's safe.
Well. Time to change that.
"Come home with me." They are on a dance floor; he has sneaked close behind Kris, has put his arms around him and whispers in his ear. He can feel him stiffen.
"Adam."
"Yes. Say yes."
Kris turns around within his arms and looks at him. His face is carefully impassive. "That would be a bad idea."
"That's not the same as saying no, though." Adam says with a smile. Kris closes his eyes with a sigh.
"No, it isn't." He opens his eyes again and there's steel, anger. It makes him look fierce, it's such a turn-on. "You need to think about what you want, Adam, and… shit, I'm not going to have this conversation here." They're still practically hugging in order to hear each other, still in the middle of a crowded dance floor and Adam strokes his cheek with a single finger, murmurs in his ear. "Kris, I can't promise you very much, but you won't regret it, I can promise you that."
"Wow," Kris says, staring at him. "You're so full of shit, you know that?"
*
It's a different hotel room from last time, a different city. Kris is different, too. He seems wary, restrained, clearly steeling himself for disappointment. Well. Adam does his best to prove him wrong and Kris seems satisfied enough when he falls asleep, but…
But now it's next morning and Adam just can't make himself stay in bed. So he takes a shower, dresses, does his makeup and hair and does not look at Kris again, now sprawled all over the bed, nose buried deep in Adam's pillow, smiling softly in his sleep.
He tries to keep his promise, he really does. But he's the one to wake up first and he's the one to leave first, while Kris is still sleeping.
*
A week later he's getting drunk in yet another stupid red-carpet bar at some stupid LA-event for some stupid new cell phone or something equally inane. Kris is not here and it seems deeply wrong, somehow. It's not that Adam misses the kid, as such; it's just that he hadn't realized how good company Kris actually was. He defiantly misses making fun of people, trying to get Kris to crack up, like they used to do, when Adam was trying to get Kris to talk to him again. Well, he could get someone else to come home with him, it has been a while… Adam considers it, considers the options available tonight and finds them… boring. Ordinary, for this kind of party. He tries, he flirts with the bartender, who's kind of cute and Adam could see himself lifting him up and bending him over his own bar, and he thinks, yes, that's the plan for tonight, but then two hours later, he's coming out from a blackout, finding himself staggering drunk dialling Kris from some bathroom stall and he has absolutely no clue how he's even gotten his number; Kris certainly didn't give it to him, that's for sure.
"…Adam, you need to go home and lie down, okay, you're not making any sense-" He comes to in the middle of a sentence, it's kind of bizarre.
"Kris? Wow, that was weird. I haven't had a blackout since I was, like, eighteen. …What are we talking about?"
"For fuck's sake Adam… Don't do this to yourself." Kris sounds more tired than irritated now.
"You sound like my mother. Where are you, anyway? I couldn't find you tonight!" He's aware that he's not making much sense, but his head is spinning and he's staring to seriously feeling like puking.
"I already told you-"
"Well, I don't remember-"
"I'm at home, in my bedroom, because I was asleep until some drunk-"
"Kris, I don't feel so good." Adam's voice is faint and pathetic, even to his own ears. "Why aren't you here? It's better when you're here."
Kris sighs. "I have a cold, Adam. You should go home, get some sleep. You'll feel better in the morning."
"I don't believe you."
"Well, no, you'll have a killer hangover, but-"
"About the cold. You just didn't want to be bothered by me tonight. And then I called you and made you sad." Adam would be mortified at himself, but his stomach chooses this moment to give up and he only just manage not to drop yet another cell in the toilet as he bends over and throws up violently.
"Wow, that was charming," Kris says when Adam picks up his cell again. "You need to go home now, seriously."
"I'm not sure I remember which hotel I'm at." Adam says. He feels like crying. His mouth tastes like bile and everything is just so difficult right now.
"You are such a lucky bastard that we are actually in the same city right now." Kris says and Adam feels a faint glimmer of something good and warm in his belly, something he can't quite name.
Then he has bend to over and puke again.
*
Adam wakes up in Kris' bed, and yes, he does have a killer hangover, but not worse than he can't still appreciate the way the sunshine makes Kris glow next to him. Kris smiles as he gets up and then he brings Adam a glass of water and a couple of painkillers.
"Do you think you can eat anything?"
"Maybe," Adam croaks out. "Why are you so nice to me?"
Kris sits down next to him and seems to be considering the answer.
"I get that you think you're incapable of having a stable relationship and that it will crash and burn and all that, but - I'm twenty-four and I've already been married and divorced and it didn't kill me. I mean, even if we did give it a chance and made an effort, it might not last anyway. That is just how it goes, sometimes, it's nobody's fault. I still wouldn't have changed anything about the relationship I had with my ex-wife. Just because it ends up not being forever doesn't mean that it's not worth it."
Adam stares at him, suddenly hyperaware that Kris is stroking his hair. Kris smiles at him.
"So, did you want breakfast?"
Adam nods.
Author:misswhy
Pairing: Adam/Kris
Rating: R
Word Count: ~3,700
Song: "The Cynic" by Kashmir feat. David Bowie
Summary: Young, Adam thinks, and innocent. New blood.
Adam wakes up in his empty hotel room, curled up around himself in the right side of the bed. He still wakes up in the right side of the bed. He rolls over, irritated. His head is hurting. He is getting too old for this, waking up like this. He doesn't even know which city he is in. Fucking never-ending tour. He looks around the room - there are empty bottles lying around, with the sad remains of some more questionable party favours. He doesn't even remember if it was just him last night or if he did have a party.
It's a bit of a battle to convince himself to get out of bed, but he's becoming increasingly aware of how much he stinks and he needs to take a piss. He tries not to look in the bathroom mirror - his face is wrecked, day old make-up half washed off by sweat. Then his masochism gets the better of him and he looks properly and notices the reddish stubble and how much his hair needs to be dyed. How tired he looks. Adam sighs and turns away. He needs a shower. Then he'll order breakfast. Call his manager; find out where he is and what he's already late for, if he did something last night that has ended up on some front page. Get yelled at. Same as usual.
He's about halfway through taking the much needed leak when he sees that his cell is lying at the bottom of the toilet bowl, deep under all his yellow piss. Well. Fuck this life.
*
"…And I couldn't just leave it down there, right? God knows what kind of embarrassing pictures it holds, not to mention all my contacts-" He's strapping himself into the passenger seat of his manager's SUV; she's punishing him by claiming that they don't have time for a limo and that he's not in any shape to drive his own car.
"You mean your fuckbuddy-list."
"Well, yeah. That too."
Chloe does not look convinced. Dropping your cell in the toilet in a drunken stupor, peeing all over it and then having to extract it, McGyver-style, seems, to Adam, like a perfectly good excuse for being an hour late, instead of just the usual thirty minutes, but noooo. Everything's his fault. And his poor cell is dead. Worse than dead. Peed on. Maybe he should sell it on Ebay or convince someone that it's art…
"Adam, this is the third arrangement you've blown off this month. People do not think your rock star behaviour is cute anymore."
"I do not think it's cute anymore, Chloe, what do you want me to do?"
Lay off the booze for a while. Stop hanging out with idiots, stop having sex with idiots. Call your mum.
She is silent, looking straight ahead at the traffic. They have had that conversation before, so many times that by now it's a non-conversation. She's given up on him. It wouldn't work anyway, the more she tries to pressure him, the more Adam rebels. He knows it's immature, unprofessional, but… He guesses he just needs a break. A vacation. That, and he's a stubborn fuck who really doesn't want to call his mother.
It used to different, back when he and Brad were still-
But he's not thinking about that.
*
Twelve hours later and he's in the bar of some red-carpet event. He thinks he's suppose to make an appearance for the premier of - something, but maybe he just went out to get drunk. There are reporters, which could indicate the premiere theory, but then, maybe not. After all, him getting drunk in hotel bars and making a fool out of himself has proven to sell surprisingly well. It has something to do which how it all started, Adam has theorized, about how shining he was. How great everyone thought he was going to be. And if there's one thing Hollywood loves to read about, it's a good comeback story, but ‘how the mighty have fallen' will do quite nicely until then.
And it's not even that he's that drunk already, he just couldn't be bothered to really listen when Chloe was telling him about his schedule for today. And anyway, he has his own schedule, which goes something like this: get plastered. Find some cute, young, easily impressed thing, get him/her/them back to the hotel, get laid.
So far so good. Adam leans at the bar, surveying the room. He knows a good deal of people here, has already slept with a fair percentage of them, and he could always just convince some of them for a second round. But that would be boring. Adam is tired of fucking the same kind of glamour boys and starfucker girls and-
Oh. That is different.
There's a stage, Adam has just realized, at the other end of the room. And a really cute, really nervous looking kid with a guitar is getting ready to perform. He's in his early twenties, brown hair, big brown eyes, small and lean. And wearing a plaid shirt and not too tight jeans, that in comparison to what people in this room is wearing looks totally ill-fitting.
Young, Adam thinks, and innocent. New blood.
Then the kid finally gets his rambling introduction over and done with and starts playing. From his outfit Davis would have guessed he'd be some quiet singer/songwriter type, but no, it's some kind of pop-rock, with a catchy beat that the kid sustains by knocking on his guitar with his palms and knuckles, and he can sing. He plays the first number acoustic, then the curtain behind him opens and reveals the rest of the band and they take off and Adam has a goal for tonight, now. That kid. Is so going home with him.
*
He can hear bits and pieces of conversation through the door; the boys are clearly excited about their debut. Adam smiles to himself, babies, he thinks, they're just babies. Then he knocks on the door.
"Groupies welcome!" Someone yells, followed by a round of laughing. Adam opens the door and they fall silent. He looks around - they're four guys and four dropped jaws. Adam leans on the door and smiles at them.
"Oh my god." The guitarist says. "You're..."
"Yeah. I am." Adam says and enters the room. "I just wanted to let you know that I really enjoyed your show." They all seem totally floored by his presence and it gives Adam such a kick. He shakes hands with all of the guys, gives them his most charming smiles. He saves the singer, Kris, for last, hanging on to his hand a few seconds extra, trying to get eye-contact. The guys are really down to earth and humble, chatting freely, except for Kris who keeps in the background, being all shy and starry-eyed. Adam thinks it's adorable.
"You're so full of energy on stage, I'm really impressed. I'm so going to steal whoever writes your songs."
"Oh man, it's all Kris," Matt, the drummer, says. "He writes all the important parts, and well, you've heard him sing."
"Yeah, I have. I really like your voice, Kris."
"You heard that, man?" Matt says to Kris, mock-punching his arm. "Adam Lambert likes your voice. You can die happy now." Kris just smiles and looks down, trying to hide it.
Then the band's manager comes bursting in and orders the guys out mingling.
"Okay you guys, times up, you better be ready to face your fans. That goes for you too, Kris!"
"Hey Joe, have you seen who's here?" Luke the bassist says.
Adam knows their manager from some old tour and says hello. Joe plays nice in front of the babies, but Adam can see that he's wary of him, trying to figure out what he's doing here. Well, he should, Adam thinks, he has seen him fuck his way trough Europe, no wonder if he don't want him messing with his baby-band. But they're adults, Adam decides, they can take care of themselves.
The party goes on and Adam mingles, but he makes sure to keep track of Kris through the evening. He does an okay job of talking to people, and as long as he has one of his band mates to keep him company, he can endure. But as the evening progresses, he is left alone and starts moving toward the corners, trying to hide. Adam punches.
"Hey there. Kris, right?"
Kris has sort of a deer in the headlight expression and Adam takes pity on him. "Relax, honey. You're doing fine. Wanna get some air?" He gives Kris the bottle of water he brought with him and drags him off to the balcony.
*
"…and then I spent a couple of years just travelling, doing missionary work, but really just helping where I could, mostly in Africa. It really leaves its mark on you, doing stuff like that. I wouldn't have traded it for anything. " Kris smiles self-deprecatingly, like he knows how he sounds, or how he would sound if it was anybody but him talking like this, but it's also an honest smile, because he means this shit.
Adam smiles and nods, trying find something appropriate to say. Now that Adam finally has him coached out of his shell, Kris talks a lot. And it's not the usual bragging small talk and sucking up. He's intelligent and interesting and even better looking up close and funny and practically a saint. This is so not how it usually goes. But Adam kind of likes it. He has Kris's unwavering attention and the kid just drips with hero worship; it makes Adam feel a bit more like a rock star than usual, a bit less burnt out. In Kris's eyes he's still every inch the rock god; Kris loves his music, he says, practically blushing, Kris was so inspired by his work, it helped him write his own songs and so on and so forth. It's cute and Adam has absolutely no qualms about monopolizing Kris Allen at his own release party.
The air outside is nice and cool and the noise from the party partly muffled. It's practically cozy. There's a break in their conversation and they just stand side by side leaning on the balustrade, admiring the view of the city lights. Their arms are touching; Adam can feel Kris's body heat through his thin shirt, and a shiver running through him.
"Are you cold?"
"Yeah, um. I should probably go back to the party."
"No, here," Adam takes off his leather jacket and drapes it around Kris's shoulders. "Stay a bit longer, I like talking to you."
Kris laughs a little. "This is surreal. You are surreal."
"No, trust me; it's you who… you're not like anybody else in that room." Adam nods towards the brightly lit room behind him. "You're special."
"Yeah?" Kris laughs. "Why, if I didn't know better, I'd say you where trying to take me home." He tries to sound cocky, but even in this light Adam can see him blush.
"Who says I'm not?" Adam says and kisses him.
*
Adam wakes up in his hotel room, curled around a warm body. For once he doesn't have to make an effort trying to remember last night; spending most of the evening talking to Kris, he didn't actually drink that much. He remembers everything. But where it all made perfect sense last night, today - well.
Kris stirs besides him, yawning and stretching. Adam freezes. Kris turns around, facing him. In the morning light he looks absolutely adorable, Adam will give him that. God, he didn't even close the drapes, what was he thinking?
"Good morning," Kris says, "please tell me you've done this enough times to have some kind of routine for the morning after, because I can feel the awkwardness creeping in on us miles away."
Adam puffs out a surprised laughter. "No, sorry, I got nothing. Last night-" didn't go like it usual does.
"Last night was special." Kris says firmly. Adam can't help breaking eye contact, trying to look away. "It was!" Kris insists, grapping Adam's jaw in a firm grip, forcing him to look to look at him. "Don't be too much of a rock star or whatever to admit that." Adam closes his eyes, trying to think and Kris must have seen something in his face, because Adam feels him sitting up abruptly.
"Right. I'm going to borrow your shower. You should think about this while I'm gone. Or not, whatever." He is gone and Adam flops down on his back. God, when did one night stands become so demanding?
In the shower after Kris has finally left, Adam decides not to feel so down about the whole thing - he did get laid last night, spectacularly so, even with the person he had decided on, he has no hangover to speak of and can still make it to his first appointment on time, so all in all he thinks he should allow himself to call it a win. He's way too hard on himself sometimes - if Kris had thought last night was the start of the romance of his lifetime, well, he hasn't been in this business very long, the poor baby, he'll soon figure out how things work here. At least he'll have a good story to tell, Adam thinks and feels a sting in his chest.
*
The thing is, he seems to constantly end up going to the same parties as Kris Allen. Which isn't weird per say, Kris is new in town after all; his manager wants him to do the rounds, and Adam's just a party animal.
Adam can't help but feel that Kris looks so lost half the time and Adam just takes pity on the kid. Then he finds that Kris seems to be kind of angry at him at first, and that's just funny.
It takes some pouting and bribing, but eventually Kris seems to want to talk to him, relax around him. Adam knows it helps that he's the only one here Kris thinks he really knows. He might not like what he has found underneath the glittery exterior, but at least there are no more surprises. Adam realizes that Kris somehow thinks he's safe.
Well. Time to change that.
"Come home with me." They are on a dance floor; he has sneaked close behind Kris, has put his arms around him and whispers in his ear. He can feel him stiffen.
"Adam."
"Yes. Say yes."
Kris turns around within his arms and looks at him. His face is carefully impassive. "That would be a bad idea."
"That's not the same as saying no, though." Adam says with a smile. Kris closes his eyes with a sigh.
"No, it isn't." He opens his eyes again and there's steel, anger. It makes him look fierce, it's such a turn-on. "You need to think about what you want, Adam, and… shit, I'm not going to have this conversation here." They're still practically hugging in order to hear each other, still in the middle of a crowded dance floor and Adam strokes his cheek with a single finger, murmurs in his ear. "Kris, I can't promise you very much, but you won't regret it, I can promise you that."
"Wow," Kris says, staring at him. "You're so full of shit, you know that?"
*
It's a different hotel room from last time, a different city. Kris is different, too. He seems wary, restrained, clearly steeling himself for disappointment. Well. Adam does his best to prove him wrong and Kris seems satisfied enough when he falls asleep, but…
But now it's next morning and Adam just can't make himself stay in bed. So he takes a shower, dresses, does his makeup and hair and does not look at Kris again, now sprawled all over the bed, nose buried deep in Adam's pillow, smiling softly in his sleep.
He tries to keep his promise, he really does. But he's the one to wake up first and he's the one to leave first, while Kris is still sleeping.
*
A week later he's getting drunk in yet another stupid red-carpet bar at some stupid LA-event for some stupid new cell phone or something equally inane. Kris is not here and it seems deeply wrong, somehow. It's not that Adam misses the kid, as such; it's just that he hadn't realized how good company Kris actually was. He defiantly misses making fun of people, trying to get Kris to crack up, like they used to do, when Adam was trying to get Kris to talk to him again. Well, he could get someone else to come home with him, it has been a while… Adam considers it, considers the options available tonight and finds them… boring. Ordinary, for this kind of party. He tries, he flirts with the bartender, who's kind of cute and Adam could see himself lifting him up and bending him over his own bar, and he thinks, yes, that's the plan for tonight, but then two hours later, he's coming out from a blackout, finding himself staggering drunk dialling Kris from some bathroom stall and he has absolutely no clue how he's even gotten his number; Kris certainly didn't give it to him, that's for sure.
"…Adam, you need to go home and lie down, okay, you're not making any sense-" He comes to in the middle of a sentence, it's kind of bizarre.
"Kris? Wow, that was weird. I haven't had a blackout since I was, like, eighteen. …What are we talking about?"
"For fuck's sake Adam… Don't do this to yourself." Kris sounds more tired than irritated now.
"You sound like my mother. Where are you, anyway? I couldn't find you tonight!" He's aware that he's not making much sense, but his head is spinning and he's staring to seriously feeling like puking.
"I already told you-"
"Well, I don't remember-"
"I'm at home, in my bedroom, because I was asleep until some drunk-"
"Kris, I don't feel so good." Adam's voice is faint and pathetic, even to his own ears. "Why aren't you here? It's better when you're here."
Kris sighs. "I have a cold, Adam. You should go home, get some sleep. You'll feel better in the morning."
"I don't believe you."
"Well, no, you'll have a killer hangover, but-"
"About the cold. You just didn't want to be bothered by me tonight. And then I called you and made you sad." Adam would be mortified at himself, but his stomach chooses this moment to give up and he only just manage not to drop yet another cell in the toilet as he bends over and throws up violently.
"Wow, that was charming," Kris says when Adam picks up his cell again. "You need to go home now, seriously."
"I'm not sure I remember which hotel I'm at." Adam says. He feels like crying. His mouth tastes like bile and everything is just so difficult right now.
"You are such a lucky bastard that we are actually in the same city right now." Kris says and Adam feels a faint glimmer of something good and warm in his belly, something he can't quite name.
Then he has bend to over and puke again.
*
Adam wakes up in Kris' bed, and yes, he does have a killer hangover, but not worse than he can't still appreciate the way the sunshine makes Kris glow next to him. Kris smiles as he gets up and then he brings Adam a glass of water and a couple of painkillers.
"Do you think you can eat anything?"
"Maybe," Adam croaks out. "Why are you so nice to me?"
Kris sits down next to him and seems to be considering the answer.
"I get that you think you're incapable of having a stable relationship and that it will crash and burn and all that, but - I'm twenty-four and I've already been married and divorced and it didn't kill me. I mean, even if we did give it a chance and made an effort, it might not last anyway. That is just how it goes, sometimes, it's nobody's fault. I still wouldn't have changed anything about the relationship I had with my ex-wife. Just because it ends up not being forever doesn't mean that it's not worth it."
Adam stares at him, suddenly hyperaware that Kris is stroking his hair. Kris smiles at him.
"So, did you want breakfast?"
Adam nods.