AI8 Fanfic
Title: Diamond Dog Diva
Author: Yours Truly (rockinhamburger
Rating: R
Pairing: Adam/Kris
Disclaimer: This is a really long lie. These are characters based off of public persona, and not accurate representations of real people. No harm or slander is intended. This is just for fun!
Summary: Response to a prompt over at aianonlovefest. Kris Allen is the latest in a string of Personal Assistants Adam Lambert has gone through since winning American Idol. He's demanding; what one might call a diva. But for Kris it's either PA work or street corner prostitution, so he's taking the job. Two hours in, street corner prostitution's looking like the far better option!
Word Count: 10,375 words.
Notes: There's Diva!Adam? What more can I say? :)
The HR woman looks down at the file on her desk and frowns. "Kris Allen?" she asks.
"That's me," Kris replies, sitting at attention in the chair before her desk.
"You're originally from Arkansas?" she probes, still scanning his resume.
"Yes," Kris answers. "I moved here about three months ago."
"Mmm. It says here you've worked as a PA for a local politician, and that you assisted an event planner."
"Yes. Ray Burns ran for mayor in my town two years ago; I worked with him for 12 months. Tough work, but it gave me some relevant, necessary experience," Kris explains. "The event planning was a little easier, but it's given me some good insight into that aspect of assistant work."
The woman nods absently. "That's all well and good. But you've never assisted a celebrity before?"
Kris shakes his head no. "But I imagine it's not unlike assistant work in the political sphere. I can handle it, definitely."
The woman finally looks up from Kris' resume, and she cracks a small smile. "That comment right there tells me you're in over your head. But the truth is, I don't have a lot of options. Have you heard of Adam Lambert?"
"The name sounds familiar," Kris offers, resisting the urge to shrug.
"He won American Idol last year," she elaborates.
"Right," Kris nods, "I remember."
"Okay. Well, he's gone through a few Personal Assistants in the last eight months."
"How many is a few?" Kris asks.
"Thirteen," she says promptly.
Kris can't help it; he lets out a low whistle. "That's a lot."
"Yes. He's what you might call... difficult."
"Which is another way of saying he's demanding. I can handle it," he insists.
The woman watches him for another moment, and then she relaxes in her chair slightly. "Well, Kris, I'm not going to lie to you. The last few employees we've placed with Mr Lambert made some formal complaints in regards to Mr Lambert's... temper. I don't feel right giving you this job without appropriate warning."
Kris considers telling her just how desperate he is for this job. He debates confiding to her that, at this point, it's either PA work or street corner prostitution. Instead, he smiles in a friendly manner.
"I assure you I'm capable of doing this job," he says. "I've had a lot of experience working with difficult people. I'd be very grateful for this opportunity."
She nods again. "You understand you'll be working a 6-day week, on call 24/7? You may also be interrupted on your days off. You must understand that you'll be arranging Mr Lambert's schedule and organizing his travel arrangements, making and receiving all work-related phone calls, and that you may be required to run frequent and unusual errands. That's the sort of job this is."
"I understand all that, yes."
She nods one last time. Then, with a sigh, she closes the folder and places it in the open filing cabinet beside her desk. She slides a form across the desk to Kris and smiles sardonically. "Congratulations, Mr Allen. You've got the job."
"Thank you very much," Kris says enthusiastically. He gets to his feet, reaches across the desk to shake her hand, and scoops up the form.
"You'll start immediately. Simply fill out that form in the lobby and hand it to Peggy at the front desk. She'll give you Mr Lambert's contact information."
"Thanks again. Goodbye."
He starts toward the door of the office, but stops abruptly when the woman calls out. "Oh, and Mr Allen? Good luck," she says, fervently and with a trace amount of trepidation and warning in her voice.
Kris nods his understanding and heads out into the waiting area of the Los Angeles HR department. He fills his form out quickly, hands it over, and takes Adam Lambert's information down accordingly.
Two hours later, street corner prostitution is looking like the far better option.
---
Stepping out into the sunlight, Kris makes the short walk to the parking lot where his car is waiting. He slides in, locates Adam Lambert's number on his blackberry and hits the dial button.
The phone rings twice before it's picked up mid-peal. "What?"
Kris jolts in surprise. "Um, hi. I'm, uh, I'm your new Personal Assistant. My name is --"
"Fuck, took 'em long enough," Adam interrupts, sounding incredibly exasperated. "Be out front in ten minutes."
At the sound of the conversation being disconnected, Kris pulls his phone away from his ear and stares at it, aghast. Didn't even get your name in. Not a good sign. And where the hell is 'out front'?
Kris spends about a minute in thought, and then he locates Adam's agent's number and dials it quickly.
"Hello, Roger Marks speaking."
Kris inwardly sighs in relief. "Hi, this is Kris Allen, Adam Lambert's new assistant," he says in a rush, determined to get all necessary information out as soon as possible this time.
There's a warm chuckle on the other end. "Fresh meat. I'm Roger Marks, and I guess you know I'm Adam's agent. How can I help you?"
Kris sighs gratefully. "Adam wants me 'out front' in ten minutes. I'm not exactly sure where 'out front' is..."
"Yes, he's referring to his home address. Do you have that yet?"
Kris nods, then realizes Roger can't see that particular action. "Yes. Do you have his current schedule on hand?"
"As a matter of fact I do," Roger replies. "I'll email it to you."
"Thank you," Kris says. "My address is kris.allen@gmail.com." He spells it out for Roger, and there are several moments of relative quiet with just the sound of Roger typing on the other end before then he says, "Done."
"Thanks. I suppose we'll be in touch?" Kris hazards.
"Undoubtedly. Good luck." He uses the same tone the HR woman used. Kris swallows hard, says thank you again, and hangs up. Then he starts the car and hightails it over to Adam's house, which is a fair bit more than ten minutes away.
He arrives 'out front' seven minutes late, and Adam's waiting at the end of his driveway. He's wearing a dark blue t-shirt with flashy lettering Kris can't read, extremely tight jeans, a pair of dark, obviously designer sunglasses, and a deep frown.
Adam opens the passenger door as soon as Kris pulls up, and climbs in with a grace Kris could never hope to achieve. "Drive quickly," Adam snaps, "I have a meeting with 19E in five minutes, and if I'm late, you're fired."
Kris' mouth drops open of its own accord, but he snaps to attention, checks the right address on his blackberry, and begins driving - only slightly over the deignated speed limit - to the correct destination.
Adam pulls out a pair of headphones and listens to music on his iPod the whole way.
---
While Adam's in his meeting, Kris goes in search of a coffee shop. He discovers one about two blocks away from the 19E building, and he orders a coffee to sit down with for a few minutes. He passes the time by reading some of the book he's been trying to get through.
Five minutes before the hour, he orders a coffee for Adam (with milk, cream, white and brown sugar, and splenda on the side - just in case Adam's picky) and goes back to the car. There's no sign of Adam just yet, so he listens to some music on the radio until he can't stomach it any longer. His car isn't quite sophisticated enough for CDs, and he doesn't have any tape cassettes (or an iPod for that matter), so he ends up sitting in silence, waiting for Adam to return from his meeting.
Twenty minutes later, Adam storms through the front door of the building and heads straight to Kris' car. He yanks open the door and sits down angrily.
"Drive me home," he demands, already taking out his iPod, but he stops and blinks in confusion when Kris holds out the coffee.
"I've got milk, cream, sugar, and splenda... Don't know how you like your coffee yet, but if you tell me, I'll have it right for next time."
Adam takes the coffee and removes the lid off the cup, peering at the murky depths like it might be poisoned. Kris resists the urge to smack Adam and starts the car instead. Then Adam speaks, and Kris has to actually clench his hands around the steering wheel to stop himself from snapping back.
"First of all, I don't drink anything that isn't Starbucks," Adam states firmly. "Second, this coffee is lukewarm at best, which means it's not fresh and I don't drink anything but fresh-from-the-pot coffee. Finally, I only drink skim milk lattes with extra foam."
Kris has to physically restrain himself from gaping at Adam. Seriously, how the hell is this guy so damn high-maintenance? What's so hard about drinking regular coffee?
"Duly noted," Kris replies dryly, signaling and crossing over to the left lane.
Adam places the full cup of coffee in the cup holder between them, not bothering to put the lid back on. Kris prays silently for patience and ignores the gesture.
"So," Adam says after a long silence. Apparently he's not listening to music after all. "Where are you from?"
Kris cannot believe this guy's audacity. He doesn't even know Kris' name, but he wants to know where Kris is from?
"Arkansas."
Adam laughs. Asshole. "Long way from home, aren't you?"
Kris hesitates then figures maybe Adam's trying to make conversation, as backward as his attempt might be. He shrugs. "I'm trying to make it in the music industry. Figure this is the best way to meet the right people."
"What do you do?"
"I sing," Kris replies.
"You any good?"
"I'm all right."
Adam snorts. "Well, you'll do great things with that attitude!"
Kris doesn't respond to Adam's sarcasm. Adam's actually right about that; Kris does need to work on his attitude. He is definitely not confident enough, which is the opposite of Adam's problem (a definite plus, in Kris' opinion), so Kris doesn't feel too terrible about it.
Adam's phone rings. "Yeah?" Adam answers. Then, "Hey fucker! No, I'll be home in ten. Sure. Perfect! See you. Oh, fuck you," he adds cheerfully before hanging up.
"Drive faster, man," Adam whines a few minutes later.
"Can't afford the ticket, man," he answers shortly, without thinking. He flinches, slightly afraid of Adam's response, but Adam doesn't say anything back, he just starts doing something on his phone; texting, Kris guesses.
Kris seethes some more in silence. He actually wants to quit this job only two hours in. He'd mostly believed the HR woman's dire warnings to be exaggerations, but clearly he was wrong about that. This guy is every bit as awful as his thirteen previous employers said he was.
---
7 am. Kris blinks blearily at his ringing cell phone, presses the Accept button, and says, groggily, "Hello?"
It's Adam, of course. "I need coffee."
Kris thinks for a second. Adam has a rehearsal for the Grammys at 11:00. Why does he need coffee four hours ahead of said time?
"Okay," he grumbles. "See you soon." He hangs up and starts to get ready. It takes him roughly twenty minutes. He can't help but think Adam probably takes hours to get ready, hence the early-morning coffee. Maybe once you become a famous musician, it actually takes four hours to get ready?
Maybe Kris doesn't need to be a famous musician after all...
---
"Hold this," Adam orders, thrusting a basket into Kris' hands at the entrance to H&M. He grabs up a pair of jeans on a display table and plops them into the basket, and three random t-shirts, all without even looking at them. Kris can't help but cringe at Adam's terrible shopping habits.
After several more minutes of Adam placing various garments into the basket, he beckons Kris over to the cash with him. When they get there, the woman behind the counter does a double take.
"Adam Lambert!" she cries.
"Shh! Not so loud," Adam whispers urgently, glancing around quickly.
"Sorry!" she says quickly, grimacing. "I'm a huge fan," she adds, quieter this time. "I adore your album."
Adam smiles tightly, uncomfortably. It's the first time in weeks Kris has seen him look uncomfortable -- generally he looks angry, or bored. "Thank you," Adam says with fake enthusiasm.
Kris places the basket on the counter and pushes it pointedly across the counter to the woman. "Ring these up, please," he requests.
The woman blinks away from Adam and looks at Kris blankly. "Oh!" she says after a moment. "Right!"
Kris rolls his eyes as subtly as possible. If this girl only knew...
When she's finished ringing the items up, returned Adam's credit card and bagged the clothes, which Kris quickly acquires, she looks hopefully at Adam. "Could I get your --?"
"Mr Lambert is in a hurry, sorry," Kris cuts in, and he pulls Adam along by the arm, away from the woman and out into the mall.
"Thanks," Adam says, looking and sounding quite relieved.
Kris smiles. "No problem."
---
"HEY!"
Kris abandons his bookkeeping and walks down the hall, poking his head around the doorway to find a whirlwind of clothes on the floor, and Adam standing in the middle of it. "Yeah?" Kris asks, tentative.
Kris has been doing Adam's bookkeeping in Adam's home office (which continues to remain completely unused by Adam) for the last hour while Adam's been using his free time to, apparently, sort out the wardrobe in hid bedroom.
"I've got to go meet a friend. Clean this up," Adam says shortly.
Kris doesn't move a muscle. "I'm sorry?" he finally asks after nearly half a minute of silence and staring.
"Clean this up. What part of that was difficult to understand?" Adam asks, crossing the room to grab his messenger bag off the end of the bed. "The cleaning part? Well, cleaning is this thing you do where you clean up messes so that they're not there anymore."
Kris steps fully into the room. "Yes, but that's not in my contract. You have a cleaning lady for that; I don't clean up after you."
"You do if you want this fucking job," Adam answers calmly, flippantly, while throwing a tube of mascara into his bag before slinging the bag over his shoulder. "We clear?" he asks innocently.
Kris closes his eyes for a moment, reins in his angry response, and nods curtly.
"Thank you so much," Adam replies disdainfully, and he leaves the room without a backward glance.
---
"I need my fucking snake-skin boots!" Adam shouts in his dressing room, minutes before he's set to go on stage. "If I don't have those fucking boots, I am not going on!"
Adam's handler turns to Kris desperately. Kris heaves an inward sigh and takes off down the hallway, immediately pulling out his cell phone. After several minutes of frantic but polite persuading, Kris manages to get someone to deliver the boots. But it'll take at least twenty minutes. He inhales and exhales deeply for several moments and goes back into Adam's dressing room.
"All right, the good news is that they're on the way," Kris states. "Bad news is it'll be about twenty minutes before they're here."
Adam swears colourfully and chucks a compact container of make-up across the room. It shatters when it hits the wall, and Kris cringes away, surprised. He's used -- really fucking used -- to the shouting, but Kris has never seen Adam get violent like this.
"All right, why don't you take a seat?" Kris offers meagerly, trying to put some calm in his voice and failing miserably.
"Shut the fuck up!" Adam yells. "This is a fucking crisis, and --"
"NO!" Kris shouts, finally done with all of Adam's shit. "It's not a fucking crisis, you dumb jerk!" He's gesturing wildly, and he's flushed with anger, trembling from it. "Haiti is a fucking crisis! The entire continent of Africa's a fucking crisis! Your stupid boots? Are so far from a crisis it's hilarious! Now get your act together and walk out on that stage, and why don't you try being happy that you don't live in a fucking crisis? I'm telling you, your stupid boots will be here for your second act! Goddamn!" He stops shouting, breathing heavily from the exerted energy of his outburst.
Adam stares. He just stares. Then he rolls his shoulders back, takes a deep breath, and walks out of the dressing room and out on to the stage. Kris takes a long drink of water from one of the many bottles in the miniature refrigerator next to the mirror, and wipes his sweaty brow.
He is so fucking fired.
---
As it turns out, Kris isn't fucking fired.
The following morning finds Kris in Starbucks. He gets Adam's usual and heads over to Adam's house. He is, of course, somewhat nervous as to how things are going to go down. When he rings the doorbell, it takes nearly a full minute for Adam to answer the door. When he does, he just gives Kris his usual nod of oh yes, you work for me, don't you?, and nothing at all resembling you're totally fired, don't you know this?
"Come in," Adam says, opening the door wide enough for Kris to enter. Kris is a little surprised, as he generally waits for Adam in the car.
"Here's your coffee," Kris says belatedly, handing it to Adam.
"Thanks," Adam says.
Kris closes the door behind him a little harder than he meant to. Thanks!? For the coffee!?
"You're... welcome?" Kris tries, unaccustomed to saying the words to Adam. They feel funny in his mouth.
"Take a seat on the couch, I'll be back down in a few minutes," Adam says, already starting up the stairs.
Kris does as he's told, glancing around Adam's house; he's never been inside it before. It's spacious and glamorous -- no surprises there. But it's also a little bit understated, which does surprise Kris. And Adam has some actually decent art on his walls, too.
A few minutes later, Adam shoots down the staircase with a man purse of some kind that Kris has never seen before. From inside it, Adam retrieves something encased in plastic, which he immediately hands to Kris.
Kris looks down at the item for a moment, frozen. No. Way.
"Is that...?" Kris starts, turning his head to gape at Adam.
Adam rubs the back of his neck like he's nervous or something, which makes no sense whatsoever, and his eyes flit back and forth between the fireplace and the front window. "I had an extra one lying around. I thought, since you don't have a CD player in your car, and I've never seen you with one before... I thought you'd like this one."
Kris tears his gaze away from Adam's face to examine the iPod even more closely. It's a damn iTouch. Kris shakes his head slightly to force himself out of the weird funk he's in (he's blaming Adam, though, for actually being nice for once). "Thank you," he says, and means it.
"It's nothing, don't worry about it," Adam says quickly, waving Kris' thanks away with one hand, already moving toward the front door. Kris watches Adam put on a pair of vinyl red boots before getting to his feet and following Adam out the door.
He hasn't been fired at all. As a matter of fact, Kris can't help feeling like he's just been bribed into not quitting.
---
Kris answers his phone with a semi-patient, "Yeah?"
"This is an emergency!" Adam says, voice shrill.
"What is?" Kris asks calmly, twisting the top off his beer and taking a long sip. It's his first night off in weeks.
"I've been booted from Conan!"
Kris does his best not to sigh out loud. He mutes the Lakers game on the television and takes another long sip of beer.
"What did his people say?" Kris asks.
"They said they're over-booked! So we got passed over! For fucking Nickelback!"
Kris chuckles. "That is a tragedy," he admits.
Adam laughs softly. "So, what do we do?" he asks after a few moments of comfortable silence, finally sounding a little calmer.
"Well, I'll call his people tomorrow morning and see if we can't get you rescheduled for next week. And if that doesn't work, we'll find you some place else to perform, all right?"
There's some quiet where Kris assumes Adam's considering these terms, then Adam says, "Okay." There's another pause on Adam's end, during which Kris drinks half his beer. "But I'm still pissed off!" Adam adds finally, sounding like it.
"Mhmm. Do you need me on the phone for that?" Kris replies dryly.
"No," Adam admits. Then, curiously, he asks, "What are you doing?"
Kris finishes his beer and opens his second one. "Watching basketball. Or trying to, anyway."
"Okay, okay," Adam says, "sorry. Go be boring on a Thursday night, then."
"I shall. And you have a meeting at 9 am tomorrow," Kris reminds Adam. "Try not to get totally wasted."
"Whatever."
Kris rolls his eyes and hangs up, resting the phone on his coffee table. He turns the volume back on, and settles in for the game.
Maybe he's just getting comfortable in his work, but Kris thinks this job - dealing with Adam - is starting to get a lot easier.
---
Kris walks casually down the hall, but he stops abruptly when Jenny, Adam's new make-up artist, comes barreling out of Adam's dressing room in tears. Kris turns around to watch her wobble down the hallway.
This is going to be fun.
He knocks on the open door of Adam's dressing room. "Saw Jenny leaking liquid from her eyes. You have anything to do with that?"
Adam's busy applying mascara in the mirror, so he doesn't bother to look over. "She doesn't even know how to apply mascara, for fuck's sake. How does she expect to be my make-up artist when she can't even --?" Adam cuts off, swearing abruptly. He wipes an errant, self-caused streak of mascara off his cheek. Kris smirks to himself.
"You know, if you don't cut that out," Kris warns, placing an ice-cold bottle of water next to Adam's elbow on the vanity set, "you're gonna run out of make-up artists pretty quickly."
"Well, I'm not having some amateur bitch do my make-up!"
"Hey!" Kris says sharply. "Don't call her that!"
There's a heavy silence as Adam turns his gaze from the eyes of his own reflection to Kris'. They stare each other down until Adam clears his throat and stands up.
"Okay, tell her - what's her name?"
"Jenny."
"Jenny. Tell Jenny I'm sorry for the outburst, and that as long as she doesn't fuck up my make-up again, she can keep the job."
Kris almost laughs. He rubs a hand over his face and says, "Done. Now hurry up. You have to be ready to go in two minutes."
"Bitch, I was born ready," Adam announces importantly, striking a ridiculous pose that Kris takes a long moment to stare at incredulously. He shakes his head.
"Well, be born ready backstage, please."
---
"He's... He's just such a jerk," Kris says in summation.
Katy laughs heartily. "I'd say that's a pretty tame word to use considering your half hour rant about him."
Kris holds the phone to his ear with his shoulder while he gets out a pot to boil pasta for supper. "Well, I'm a nice guy, unlike him, so I try not to use unkind words."
Katy laughs again. It makes Kris miss home so much he feels his eyes sting. "Have you thought about quitting, Kris?"
"Yes!" Kris replies adamantly. "Of course I have. But... I don't know... I feel like it would be giving up."
"Well, yeah, it kind of would be. But that's not always a terrible thing, despite what people say to the contrary. Sometimes it's healthy to quit."
Kris turns the burner up to the maximum setting. "I know. I just -- I don't feel like that's the right thing to do here. I think he's starting to get better about these things. He's just... used to being a douchebag. And I feel like if I stick around, maybe he'll learn to be nicer."
Katy giggles. "Well, trust your instincts, Kris. They've never steered you wrong before."
Kris sighs. That's exactly what he does, most of the time. And that's the problem, most of the time. "Sound advice. Thanks, Katy."
---
Kris is on the phone scheduling an important gig for Adam while he and Adam stand in line at the bank.
"Thank you very much," Kris says, relieved. "April 10th, 8 pm. Pleasure doing business with you." He ends the call and turns to Adam, eyebrows raised. "Well, you're playing the 02 Arena!"
Adam was rummaging in his purse for something, but he stops immediately. His head snaps up comically, and he grabs Kris' bicep and hauls him closer. "The 02 arena?!" he gasps.
Kris just nods. It's pretty incredible.
Adam suddenly pulls Kris into a fierce hug that takes Kris by complete surprise, which means he freezes for several moments before hesitantly returning the hug. Adam pulls away as easily as he leaned in and actually squeals, "Omigod! I have to tell everyone!"
And then he's on his phone, for at least the next half hour, calling various family members and close friends. Kris thinks Adam really is calling everyone he knows.
Kris rubs his bicep where Adam grabbed him; it feels like Adam's hand is still there, burning a permanent mark in Kris' skin.
---
Returning from yet another shopping spree, as they're about the climb into Kris' car, a middle-aged woman approaches Kris and Adam.
"Excuse me," the woman begins. "I'm sorry to bother you; I'm sure you're very busy, but I was just wondering whether you could..." She trails off for a moment, looking uncertain. "My daughter, Alexis, is a fan," she says to Adam, "and she's very sick. She has leukemia. I know it would be a wish come true for her to meet you."
Kris' heart cries out for this woman that he does not know. He can just tell her words are truthful.
"Of course I'll meet her!" Adam says without hesitation. "She can come to my next show, if she's able. And I'll give her a backstage pass so she can come meet me before the show."
The woman's face transforms into one of real gratitude. "Oh, thank you very much."
"What's your name? I'll put you down for four tickets with backstage passes... she can bring two friends!" Adam goes over to shake the woman's hand. They exchange pleasantries and contact information, and Kris just hangs back. This is a private moment that he's been lucky enough to witness.
There's no denying Adam's got a heart. It's just been hiding a little bit all this time. Kris is encouraged.
---
"Hang on a sec," Adam says as rehearsal wraps up. "I need to piss." He heads off in the direction of the bathroom.
Kris is curled up on a couch in the corner of the rehearsal space. He's been pretending to read while listening to Adam practice with his band for the last hour.
Suddenly, Tommy walks right up to Kris, the rest of his bandmates trailing after him. "Kris, right?" he asks. Kris nods. "Hey, this is the guy that puts Adam in his place once in a while," Tommy explains to his other bandmates.
They all immediately warm to Kris. Monte says, "Ohhh!" and comes over to shake Kris' hand. Longineu and Lisa approach as well to shake his hand.
Lisa says, "You are a total godsend."
Kris feels himself flush. "I don't - I'm not sure I really do anything, to be honest."
"That's not what we've heard," Lisa counters. "Apparently you've told him off a couple times. Jake told us."
Jake is Adam's handler. Kris is surprised he's been talked about amongst their little weird Adam-family. But Adam returns at that point with a shout of, "Come on, guys! The night's still young; let's go get trashed!", and Kris doesn't have a chance to respond.
Things get hectic pretty quickly, with Monte yelling above it all, "No vomiting this time, for fuck's sake, Tommy!"
Kris is still in deep thought when he makes his way home alone a few minutes later.
---
It's the worst day Kris has ever had working for Adam. Two shows have fallen through for the following week, and Adam's in a completely foul mood.
Adam's currently in the middle of a tirade of shouting, at a stagehand who made a very simple, easy-to-fix mistake. Everyone is keeping their distance because Adam is pissed.
It's a lot like that Christian Bale tirade, actually.
"It is so fucking unprofessional to be this careless! Everyone in this room is essentially trusting you with this task, so when you fuck it up, everyone else suffers! Especially me!" Adam says, voice loud and dangerous. "You are easily replaceable. And you can't even do this simple task without screwing up; what the hell else can't you do?"
"I'm really sorry!" the stagehand says, and he looks like he might cry. There are about twenty people scattered around the stage, all of them pretending Adam isn't shouting at one of his employees.
"I don't want you to be sorry! I want you to not fuck up!" Adam shouts.
That's the breaking point for Kris. He approaches carefully. "Hey, uh, Adam? D'you think we could let it go now? I think Bill heard you."
Adam whips around and looks down at Kris. He is radiating anger like Kris has rarely seen before. "Excuse me? Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?" he demands, and his voice rings out in the huge auditorium. Kris sees people actually stop what they're doing to watch their fascinating 'performance'.
"Adam, come on," Kris says, speaking quieter in contrast to Adam's shouting. "He's obviously sorry. And Christina fixed it, so this is really unnecessary."
Adam lets out an actual roar of anger. "This is my fucking show, and these are the people who work for me, so I'll decide what's necessary! And if you have a fucking problem with that, you can always quit!"
And suddenly Kris knows exactly what to do. "Okay."
Adam had started to turn away, but he turns back abruptly, his eyes wide and shocked. "What?"
"Okay, I quit," Kris elaborates. "Consider this my two weeks' notice."
A ringing silence fills the hall.
---
Kris wakes up to the sound of his doorbell ringing. Groaning feebly, he drags himself out of bed, pulls on a pair of jeans and a white cotton t-shirt, and stumbles out of his bedroom and down the hall to the front door.
A glance at the digital clock on his VCR tells him it's 7:21 in the morning. There's only one person that could possibly be on the other side of his door at this hour of the morning.
He opens the door on Adam, who's wearing tight black pants and a blue-green hoodie (Adam would probably know what that colour's called). His hair is without product, and he looks extremely tired. Well, more tired than usual. The whole look really works for Adam. Kris definitely prefers this look to Adam's more glammed up, rocker one.
Adam thrusts his hand out, and Kris looks down to find a coffee clutched in Adam's grip. He raises an eyebrow. "More bribery?" he says, unsurprised.
Adam cringes. "Maybe. Can I come in?"
Kris doesn't hesitate; he takes the coffee from Adam, and walks back inside his own apartment, trusting Adam to let himself in and shut the door himself. Kris heads over to his sofa and sits down, Adam trailing not far behind him.
Adam looks so strange against Kris' plain, black sofa in Kris' plain, tiny apartment. And yet, Kris likes the look of him there. However, he refuses to analyze that train of thought without appropriate caffeine intake. He takes a long, pleasant sip of coffee.
Adam clears his throat. "I'm sorry."
Kris blinks in response.
"I know I'm difficult to work for," Adam says.
Kris can't help it; he laughs. "Adam, that is the understatement of the century."
Adam actually blushes! Then he nods his head in acknowledgment of Kris' statement. "Fair enough." A pained expression comes over Adam's face, as if he isn't used to this apology thing. "Look, I - I really don't want you to quit. You're good - the best PA I've ever had, and I don't want anyone else doing this job. Please reconsider."
Kris takes a moment to gawk at Adam, and then he shakes his head in disbelief. "You are unbelievable. You're sitting in my apartment telling me I'm a good PA, and you expect me to work for you and take all the crap you dish out, and you don't even know my name!"
It's Adam's turn to gawk. "What? Yes I do! I know your name!"
Kris scoffs. "Oh yeah? What is it?"
"Kris Allen."
Kris feels like he's in the twilight zone. "When we first met, I didn't even get to introduce myself. And you've never used my name! Not once!"
Adam sighs. "You're my PA. I sign your paychecks, of course I know your name. I just --" Adam looks away for a moment, biting his bottom lip. When he looks back, Kris can see the anxiety in Adam clearly. "I've gone through thirteen --" Adam laughs humourlessly, "'scuse me, fourteen Personal Assistants in the last year. After the first five, I just stopped using their names."
Kris looks away.
"And I know I bring it on myself," Adam continues, "but it still hurt. I'd get used to someone, and then they'd quit. And I don't want that to happen again. Kris..." Kris snaps his gaze to Adam's, and they lock eyes. "Please don't quit. You keep me in check. I need that. I really am working on my attitude, and I'll keep working on it. Just. Please don't quit."
Adam's begging.
Damn it.
"All right," Kris relents, and Adam sags into the sofa in relief.
"Oh, thank fuck!" Adam says fervently. "I had all this - all this stuff ready to go in case you were gonna be stubbourn about it."
"What else were you going to bribe me with?" Kris jokes, smiling.
Adam smiles back. "I had a brand new car waiting out front."
The smile's gone from Kris' face in about two seconds flat. "Are you kidding?"
"Nope," Adam grins. "Well, we've been working together for several months now, and I think you deserve a bonus."
The grin is back on Kris' face even quicker than it left.
---
"Fucking fuck!" Adam shouts, pounding the counter with a large fist.
Kris looks up from his laptop to find Adam peering into the toaster. "What's up?"
"I burned my toast! Fuck!"
Kris tries to keep a straight face. "You... burned toast?"
Adam's head snaps up. "Hey, fuck you!" he says, but he's smiling. Adam pouts. "I'm hungry."
"And clearly you have no idea how to cook, if the toast in anything to go by," Kris snorts.
"Shut up," Adam says, petulant.
Kris laughs and stands up. "Go sit down. I'll make you something."
Adam sighs and throws his hands up, backing away from his own kitchen. He takes a seat in Kris' vacated spot while Kris searches for something to make for dinner.
Lately, Kris has taken to hanging out with Adam outside of work. It's a new development in their weird working relationship, but Kris has to admit he's happy about it. Adam's one of the only people Kris sees on a regular basis, and it's kind of nice to have something to do outside of work besides watching television and writing music. Both endeavors become tired after a while, Kris has discovered.
"Hey," Adam says a few minutes later, and at Adam's soft tone Kris looks up from chopping vegetables for their pasta. "Are these song lyrics?"
Kris can't move. "Uh, yeah," he admits after a pause.
"They are really good," Adam says breathlessly, looking up from Kris' laptop (upon which Kris had apparently left his lyrics open) and fixing Kris with a strange expression that Kris can't read.
Kris takes several deep breaths to calm his fast-beating heart. He hasn't shown very many people his music. It's always been sort of private, something he did in the privacy of his bedroom, but something he's always wanted to share without knowing why or how to go about it. Adam is the last person Kris wants to share his music with. Adam's amazing, and Kris feels immeasurable in comparison.
"They're okay," Kris finally manages, voice a little strange in his own ears.
"Um. No," Adam says firmly. "They're amazing."
Kris shrugs and continues chopping.
"Can I hear it?" Adam asks after another minute of silence. Kris freezes again.
"Okay, what's this about?" Kris asks, turning away from the counter to face Adam. "Why do you want to?"
Adam looks confused. Then he looks like he's figured Kris out, which definitely scares Kris. "You've got a serious confidence problem, Kris. You really gotta work on that. I want to hear it because I like your lyrics. I think they'd sound great if you put them to music."
Kris's hands are shaking, so he shoves them in his pockets, shuffling his feet nervously. "I don't know..."
"Come on," Adam urges gently. "I saw the guitar in the living room; you obviously play. I wish I could play an instrument..."
"I could teach you," Kris offers, eager to change the subject, but, unfortunately, Adam's quicker than that.
"First of all, no changing the subject," Adam starts adamantly. "Second, no way. I'm hopeless. Trust me, I've tried to learn a few instruments. My brother Neil tried to teach me the keyboard for years, and I could never get it. And my friend Alisan plays the guitar; no luck." And then, after a pause, "And last of all, no changing the subject!"
Kris spares a moment to appreciate that Adam has just shared with Kris something completely unrelated to work. He now knows Adam has a brother called Neil, and a friend named Alisan. Then he sighs, because Adam must mean business if he bothered to repeat himself.
"Fine."
Adam cheers. "Awesome!"
After dinner, Adam forces Kris into the living room and actually hands Kris the guitar. Then he sits down, waiting expectantly for Kris to start.
Kris hesitates for a few seconds, and then he just gives it up. At some point, if he's really serious about making a career out of his music, he's going to have to get over his nerves. Besides, Adam will tell him if he sucks, and that'll be that.
"It - it doesn't have a title," Kris stammers.
"That's okay," Adam says encouragingly, giving Kris a friendly smile.
Taking a deep breath, Kris arranges his fingers in the first chord position on his guitar, feeling her out for the right rhythm. Then he starts to play.
He actually loses himself in the music. He'd always thought Eminem was exaggerating a little bit, but clearly not.
He's not used to having an audience, so he sort of tunes Adam out, focusing his energy instead on playing and singing with all his heart. When he's finished, he has to drag himself out of a trance-like state of bliss. It's like being drunk, but better. He feels so good. He feels alive.
When Kris comes back down to earth, he discovers Adam leaning back against the arm of the couch, eyes squeezed shut, and clutching his own chest with one hand. After a heavy, significant pause, Adam lets out a soft, "Oh," that is way too meaningful for Kris to analyze fully.
Adam seems to take a moment to collect himself, and then he opens his eyes and faces Kris with a warmth in his gaze that is completely unfamiliar to Kris. "That was..." Adam trails off. "I don't even have words for it," he admits, and Kris thinks he can hear tremors in Adam's voice. Adam covers his face with one hand, and then he looks straight at Kris again and smiles genuinely. "It was magical."
Kris feels his heart pounding again, and he vaguely wonders how much of it was inspired by the adrenaline of the performance.
---
Kris lets himself into Adam's house with the key Adam made for him. He takes his shoes off neatly by the door and ventures into the entrance way with a tentative, "Hello?"
"Kris!" Adam calls from the kitchen, "Hey! Come on in here!"
Kris smiles to himself and walks into the kitchen to find Adam sitting there with a man who looks to be in his mid-twenties, and a woman who must be Adam's mother. Kris can always sense a mother.
"Kris," Adam says, smiling, "this is my mother Leila, and that's my brother Neil." He gestures to them as he says their names, and Kris walks forward to shake each of their hands in turn with a genuine, "Nice to meet you..."
"Mom, Neil," Adam continues, "this is my PA, Kris."
Leila smiles at Kris in a way that Kris totally associates with mothers. It makes him miss his own mother. "It's so great to finally meet you, Kris. Thanks for taking such good care of Adam."
"Mom," Adam groans, shaking his head, looking embarrassed. It makes him look about half his age.
Kris smiles tightly, nervous. "I didn't realize you had company." Kris looks around at them all. "I can give you updates tomorrow," he offers, turning to Adam.
"No, it's fine," says Adam, "I'd like to hear the updates now."
Kris frowns. "You're with your family. I can come back tomorrow. It's really not that important."
"I want," says Adam firmly, "to hear what's going on."
They stare each other off, as they're prone to do these days, for a few moments before Kris backs off. This is one area Kris has been unsuccessful in; Adam works too hard, and no amount of argument on Kris' part will persuade him to take on fewer projects.
"Workaholic," Kris grumbles, opening his Blackberry to get to the necessary updates. He realizes belatedly that he's just called his boss a workaholic in front of said boss's mother and brother, and blushes. But when he looks up again Neil and Leila are exchanging looks of amusement and... is that approval?
"Okay, do you want the good news or the bad news first?" Kris asks.
Adam makes a face. "Bad."
"Some sleazebag did an interview with National Enquirer about you and him. Said you hooked up a few years ago, before Idol," Kris says, looking at Adam up and rolling his eyes. "But it's the National Enquirer, so nobody gives a damn. But you should know about the story anyway."
Adam sits back heavily in his chair. "What's his name?"
"Bruce White. Most boring name ever," Kris adds, unthinkingly. He just holds back another blush. Where's your filter? He supposes he has been more open with Adam in the last few weeks, but has he really become this comfortable with him?
Adam laughs, and Kris sees Neil and Leila exchange a grin in the peripherals of his vision. "No, I definitely wouldn't hook up with someone called Bruce. Plus, I know who I've hooked up with in the last few years: the list is pretty short."
Kris nods. "You may want to make an official statement about it. You've been getting a flood of twats about it, and Roger called earlier to let you know he's willing to take the guy to court if you want to."
Adam shakes his head. "I don't care that much. I'll just twat about it later. What's the good news? Or is there more bad?"
Kris smiles. "No more bad. All the major radio stations in the country announced your European tour today."
Adam's whole face lights up. Leila stands up immediately and hugs her son, who grips her tightly. Neil hugs him after that, and then Adam's on his feet. He takes the few steps over to Kris and pulls him into a bear hug. Kris finches once in shock, then hugs him back carefully. Adam pulls away and claps his hands together once.
"Let's order in! Pizza?"
"I can make the order; what do y'all want?" Kris says.
"Just order two extra-large, one all-dressed, one meat-lovers," Adam replies.
"Sure thing," Kris says, heading out into the living room to make the order. He also makes a quick call to Roger, and then he hangs up and goes back to the kitchen, but he hears hushed voices and he can't help eavesdropping.
Leila's speaking. "He seems really great."
"Mmm. He's the best PA I've ever had," Adam replies, and Kris realizes with a jolt that they're talking about him. About his efforts as a PA.
"He's funny," Neil adds. "That's a plus."
"He seems very nice and polite," Leila continues.
"Efficient," Neil says shortly.
"And he's attractive, too!" Leila concludes. Kris vaguely wonders what that has to do with his ability to be a good PA. "What's not to love about him?"
"Stop it, you two," Adam chides.
"Do you know if he's gay?" Neil asks curiously.
Okay, that definitely has nothing to do with Kris' ability to be a good PA, and Kris isn't sure he wants to hear Adam's answer, so he coughs twice, counts to three, and walks back into the kitchen.
To their credit, Leila and Neil are very good at pretending they weren't just talking about Kris. They immediately strike up a conversation about something political while Kris tries not to analyze the conversation he just overheard.
He's not sure he's ready for that yet.
---
On Leila's instructions, Kris drags Adam to a grocery store so that Adam will have actual food in his house. Kris is more than willing to follow this order, and not just because he likes Leila. Adam doesn't eat anything of real substance all that often, so Kris is definitely willing to remedy that.
"You need calcium! That's something you need, Adam," Kris stammers, flabbergasted to learn Adam hasn't consumed milk in months.
Adam shrugs. "I don't really like it."
"Then drink soy milk! You need your proper nutrients."
"Okay, mom," Adam teases.
Kris does not like that comparison one bit. He's about to respond when his phone rings. His caller ID says 'Mom', and by that very small piece of information alone, Kris knows this call is important.
"Mom, what's wrong?" Kris answers.
"It's nothing to worry about, Kris," his mom says right away, trying to be reassuring, but her shaking voice gives her away. "Daniel was in a car accident; he's fine, but he has a broken collar bone and a concussion, and they're not sure how severe it is. I thought you'd want to know."
"God, mom," Kris mumbles, pacing the grocery aisle absently. "Is he awake?"
"No, he's still unconscious, but the doctor says he's sure Daniel will make a full and quick recovery."
"Okay, I'll be there tonight or tomorrow morning."
"Oh, no, dear, Daniel wouldn't want you to put your life on hold for him like this."
"Mom, I'm coming," Kris insists. "I love you."
"I love you too, dear. Be safe."
"You too. 'Bye." Kris ends the call in a daze.
When they were growing up, Daniel was always getting hurt. He was constantly grazing his hands and knees on the rocky ground, or spraining his ankle trying to climb over the thicket despite Kris' dire warnings of its dangers. He'd once broken his arm attempting to ride their neighbour's horse, despite the fact that it had beeen expressly against their parents' rules. Whenever Dan got hurt, Kris would take on the job of nurse, and once Dan was all better, Kris would go off on him. The very idea that Dan might not have been all right... that something could have happened...
The phone call is such a blast to the past that it leaves Kris floundering for several moments. He eventually turns to Adam, who's watching Kris with a look of deep concern on his face. "What's going on?" Adam asks gently.
"My brother Dan was in a car accident. He's okay, but I gotta go see him."
"No, of course," Adam says immediately, "if it were Neil..." Adam places a hand on Kris' shoulder. "I'm gonna book you a flight under my name. You can fly first class, and I want to pay for your ticket both ways. Don't worry about work, just go and call me when you want to come back, all right?"
Kris looks up at Adam. There are too many complicated emotions swirling inside of Kris. He wants to say more, to indicate his gratitude in a thousand different ways, but all he can manage right now is a gruff, choked-off, "Thank you."
"Don't mention it," Adam replies quietly.
It's a moment to end all moments. But it ends before it really begins, and Kris is grateful because he knows he's not ready to address his complicated feelings toward Adam just yet. He needs to be with his brother. He needs to talk to his brother, his smart brother who always knows just what to say.
He needs some time to think.
---
When Kris arrives at the hospital the following morning - a bright and early 6 am - he finds the room with little to no trouble. As soon as he walks into the... into Dan's hospital room, his eyes well up. He hasn't seen his family in over six months. He's been working so hard, and while he does talk to them fairly regularly, it's not the same as seeing them up close after what feels like so long. His heart is flooded with love for his parents and his brother, the people in his life who are most important.
His mother and father immediately sweep Kris up in a tight embrace. Kris holds on to them for a long time, a few minutes at least, and when he pulls away his eyes and face are wet.
"We'll leave you two to catch up for a while," his mom says, always the most brilliant, intuitive woman in Kris' life. Kris waits until they've left the room to turn and face his brother.
Dan's grinning tiredly at him. He's got a sling around his arm, and the bed is arranged at a 90 degree angle so that Dan is sitting up. Most of his exposed skin is purple with extensive bruising. The sight of Dan like this grips Kris with a bone-chilling fear.
Kris approaches carefully. "What's the diagnosis?" he asks after a lengthy pause of deafening quiet.
"Broken collar bone," Dan replies, nonchalant. "They fixed the break surgically 'cause it was 100% broken in half. Usually a collarbone, if it's broken 50 or 75%, can be fixed with just a sling, but that process takes months. Mine's already fixed, so I think I got the better deal."
Kris stares at his brother, aghast. "You had surgery?"
"Yep. It was pretty cool," Dan enthuses.
"For fuck's sake, Daniel!" Kris bursts out, unable to hold back his anger/fear. Adam's clearly rubbing off on him, and right now Kris is grateful for it. "What the hell happened?"
"Are you swearing?" Dan asks incredulously, still grinning. "You must be really mad."
Kris throws himself into the chair beside Dan's bed, exhausted. "Mad doesn't cover the half of it, bud." He sighs. "What happened, Dan?" he asks, calmer this time but just as firmly.
"Missed a turn, flipped into a ditch," Dan says, casual, like he's discussing the weather at the crash site rather than the crash itself.
"Could you be anymore casual about it?" Kris snaps.
"Probably."
"Seriously, Dan. You've gotta be more careful," Kris urges, voice cracking under the weight of his many emotions.
Dan finally sobers, the smile vanishing from his face to be replaced with a look of consideration. "Why'd you come all the way out here, anyway? You knew I'd be fine."
Kris is sick of his own moodiness. "Are you --? Damn it, man, what would you do it if it were me?"
Dan stares at Kris, and Kris knows he's imagining it, imagining Kris in the hospital bed with the broken collarbone and concussion. Dan finally looks rattled.
"Can we change the subject, please?" Dan asks after a long moment.
Kris takes pity on his stupid, careless, wonderful brother, nodding vaguely and scrubbing his face with his hands, sighing deeply. Daniel's all right. Stop this.
"How's work?" Dan asks. "Your boss still an asshole?"
Kris bursts out laughing, and he feels some of the tension in his body seeping away. "Yup. But he's less of an asshole now, and he's kind of grown on me."
There must be something revealing in Kris' face because Dan raises his eyebrows significantly. "Oh boy," he says after a pregnant pause, smirking.
Kris groans and slumps in the uncomfortable chair. "Don't."
"Oh man!" Dan crows, looking Christmas has come early. "You've got it bad, buddy!"
Kris says nothing. There's really nothing to say. Dan knows Kris better than anyone on this planet; it's not surprising he just knows how Kris feels.
"So," Dan says briskly. "How's he feel about you?"
Kris pauses to consider the question, then shrugs. "I don't know. Sometimes I think he feels the same way, but other times..." He trails off. Dan looks skeptical.
"Come on. You can't tell me he likes women? He seems like the gayest gay to ever gay."
Kris laughs heartily, heart warmed. It feels damn good to laugh unabashedly. "Nah, he's definitely gay. He came out in Rolling Stone last year."
Dan looks satisfied. "Well, then there you go. That path is clear!"
"No, it's not," Kris denies, irritated. "Just because he's gay -- it doesn't mean he'll go for me. Adam could have anybody."
"Excuse me?" Dan says, looking affronted. "What's wrong with you? Why wouldn't he like you? Everyone falls in love with you!"
"What?" Kris gapes, laughing in surprise. "No, they don't."
"Oh, yes they do. Don't think I haven't noticed your wily ways, Kristopher Allen."
They both laugh, hard and long until they can hardly breathe from it. Kris feels infinitely better at the end of it, like a huge weight's been lifted off his chest.
"Whew!" Dan says, chuckling. "So... how did Adam react to you coming back here, anyway?"
Kris yawns, stretching out his cramped, restless legs. It's been a long night. "He was great about it. Paid for my flight, got me a first class seat..."
Dan's yawning when Kris says the last part, so he sort of chokes on it a bit, looking at Kris with shock and eventual amusement. "And you're not sure how he feels about you? I'm sorry, if a man buys you a plane ticket, he's in love with you. That's just how the world works."
Kris laughs, but it's mostly to disguise his immediate fear of Dan's words and the meaning behind them. He's sure Dan's right, and that notion - rather than make him happy - is terrifying to Kris.
---
Dan smiles from his sprawled-out position on his childhood bed, where he'll be staying for the next week, if their mother has anything to say about it. Kris is about to leave for L.A, so he's saying goodbye, and not being emotional about it. At all.
"Okay," Dan says. "When you get back to L.A., what are you going to do?"
"Get back to work," Kris evades.
"No, you're going to tell Adam how you feel so you can work everything out and become a sickeningly cute couple forever and always."
Kris pulls a face. "Damn it, man, what are you even saying?"
Dan grins. "The crash has made me realize a few things about life and mortality and love --"
"No it hasn't, doofus," Kris says, rolling his eyes. "You're just being obnoxious."
"Kris." Dan sits up in the bed, expression serious. "I'm... I'm telling you, you should really tell Adam how you feel. You could be missing out on something great if you don't."
Kris hesitates, considering. That was actually kind of nice. And made a lot of sense, which is weird for Daniel.
"Thanks for the advice. I'll think about."
"You do that. Now go catch your flight. Did Adam book this one?"
Kris shakes his head. "I couldn't call him. Too nervous. It'll be a surprise when I get there."
"But..." Dan stutters, "but he offered to pay for your flight back. Why would you turn that down?"
Kris grins at Dan. "I'm Adam Lambert's Personal Assistant. I'm extremely well-paid."
---
Stepping off the plane and into the terminal, Kris goes on a quick search for his luggage, which has, of course, been lost in the travel process. He can't remember where he parked his car, so he spend about twenty minutes searching for that before finally gets out on the road.
On the drive home, Kris reflects on Adam's smile. Recalling the look on Adam's face when he's being considerate, or when he's looking at Kris (in recent months, anyway) drive him to Adam's house instead. He doesn't plan it that way; it just happens.
He pulls up near Adam's house, parking a short distance away. He waves at the security guard standing beside the front gate, who gives him an enthusiastic wave and lets him through with a friendly smile. It's 10:30 in the morning, so it's entirely possible Adam's not home. Or that he's sleeping. Kris realizes suddenly that he has no idea where Adam is, and he doesn't like that feeling. He's been arranging Adam's schedule for over six months, and being unaware of it is strangely - or perhaps not so strangely - troubling.
He smooths out the non-existent wrinkles in his clothes, a white t-shirt with a plaid button-down shirt over it, and his favourite pair of jeans, and rings the doorbell.
He's standing there, heart pounding, hands sweating, for 35 seconds (Kris absolutely counts) before the door's thrown wide open.
Adam's standing there in grey sweat pants and a white sleeveless top. His hair isn't styled, and he has no make-up on. He's just Adam. Exactly the way Kris likes him.
Adam stares at Kris for about three seconds, and then he says, "Oh thank god!" before pulling Kris inside, slamming the door shut and pushing Kris up against it.
Kris stares up at Adam, hands shaking when he places one on Adam's shoulder and one on the side of his face. "I missed you," he croaks.
Adam buries his head in Kris' throat and inhales deeply. "Missed you too," he mumbles, kissing the skin there. Kris' breath hitches. "Oh, you smell so good."
Kris lets out a shaky laugh, and then he's pulling Adam in for a kiss. A real kiss.
Their mouths collide shakily, clumsily, tongues exploring each other's mouths tentatively. Kris finds his hands exploring every inch of skin they can find on Adam's body while Adam's got both of his hands on either side of Kris' face. He's licking into Kris' mouth, biting Kris' lips gently. Kris moans softly, opening his mouth wider and letting Adam further in.
Kris wraps his left leg around Adam's, resting it on the inside of Adam's knee, angling his hips up while Adam angles his down. The friction is perfect; they moan and gasp together.
Adam pulls away carefully, placing a quick, chaste kiss on Kris' mouth, and then he smiles that smile Kris was thinking about on the drive over. "I've been a mess without you here, Kris. You help keep my life in order, and I don't -- it's so good to have you back."
Kris can think of nothing to say in response, so he simply kisses Adam again. This time he bites Adam's lip, but not quite so gently. Then he whisper-laughs into Adam's half-smile. "You know, I just realized," Kris says, smirking, "that this is sort of a conflict of interest, isn't it? Perhaps I should write you up for sexual harassment? It's extremely unprofessional for us to be working and sleeping together, Mr Lambert. I mean, I am your PA."
Adam throws his head back and laughs and Kris strokes his hand down the exposed skin of Adam's throat, his cock throbbing as a helpful reminder of what they're not doing while they stand here talking.
"Or maybe I'll just replace you," Adam says thoughtfully, teasingly, kissing the corner of Kris' mouth. "Or promote you."
Kris sighs in a long-suffering manner, a deep smile on his face. "Fine," he says, kissing Adam on the lips once, twice, "but that promotion better stick."
Adam laughs and kisses Kris again, one of his hands straying south, toward Kris' tented jeans. "Well, let's see... you aced the interview," Adam's reaching in, stroking over the bulge in Kris' boxers, "and you clearly have the necessary experience. I think you'll be perfect for this job..." he concludes, closing one hand around Kris' dick. Kris lets out a raw moan. "But you're finding me a new PA, bitch," he mutters, with feeling, into Kris' ear, biting down hard on Kris' earlobe.
"Damn it," Kris gasps, thrusting forward into Adam's amazingfabuloustalented hand. "I knew there'd be a catch..."
Kris pulls Adam closer.
@@@
Epilogue
A few weeks later...
Kris turns the doorknob and walks into his office to find the young woman already seated in front of his desk. He smiles at her and sits down in his chair, laying out the woman's resume on the desk before him.
"Allison, right?" Kris asks genially.
"Yup," she says, grinning. She has long black hair, styled in a way sort of similar to Adam's but with several streaks of pink in it. "Allison Iraheta."
"Nice to meet you, Allison," Kris says, leaning forward to shake her hand. "It says here you have no experience as a Personal Assistant."
Allison scrunches up her face, looking a little guilty. "I probably shouldn't say this, but the truth is, I just want the chance to work for Adam Lambert. I'm a singer, and Adam's one of the best... I think it'd be great for my career in music. And look, I'm a hard-worker and I'm very personable. I'm totally capable of doing this job. But I thought I should be honest about my motivations here."
Kris leans forward and props his elbows on his desk. "That's... very straightforward. I like that." Kris chews his bottom lip, thinking. "The truth is, I think Adam would really like you."
Allison's smile is practically blinding. "Can I ask you a question?" she asks excitedly.
"Sure," Kris says, smiling. There's something about this girl that makes him want to do just about anything for her.
"You were Adam's PA before, right? Is it true you're dating Adam Lambert now? There hasn't been an official statement, but everyone thinks you're an item."
Kris' smile gets even bigger. "I was his PA, yeah. And... yeah, we're together." Feels so good to say it out loud.
Allison squeals, "That's adorable!"
Kris blushes. What is happening to this interview? He clears his throat. "But if you're chosen for this position, you need to understand what's required for this job. You'll often be working 6 days a week, and you'll have to be on call in case something important comes up. You should understand that you'll be arranging Adam's schedule and organizing his travel arrangements, making and receiving all work-related phone calls, and going for coffee runs fairly regularly. It won't be easy, I can tell you that from experience, but the job will be a lot easier for you than it was for me or Adam's other Personal Assistants. Adam can be a bit of a diva sometimes, but he does have a heart of gold. If you look deep enough."
Allison smiles, looking pensive. "So he is still a diva sometimes? 'Cause, I don't know, a little bit of diva isn't so bad. I kinda like that in a guy," she says mischievously.
Kris laughs softly. "Don't worry, he's still a diva," Kris assures her, smiling widely. He likes this girl. "And I like that in a guy, too," he adds, folding his hands together and placing them on the desk between them. "So, when can you start?"
The End.
Note: Yes, I know. Where's the sex? Don't worry, I'll put out a companion piece to this story in the coming weeks, with sex. I promise.
Thank you all so very much for the support with this story over at aianonlovefest!!
Please feel free to leave a comment on your way out!
Author: Yours Truly (rockinhamburger
Rating: R
Pairing: Adam/Kris
Disclaimer: This is a really long lie. These are characters based off of public persona, and not accurate representations of real people. No harm or slander is intended. This is just for fun!
Summary: Response to a prompt over at aianonlovefest. Kris Allen is the latest in a string of Personal Assistants Adam Lambert has gone through since winning American Idol. He's demanding; what one might call a diva. But for Kris it's either PA work or street corner prostitution, so he's taking the job. Two hours in, street corner prostitution's looking like the far better option!
Word Count: 10,375 words.
Notes: There's Diva!Adam? What more can I say? :)
The HR woman looks down at the file on her desk and frowns. "Kris Allen?" she asks.
"That's me," Kris replies, sitting at attention in the chair before her desk.
"You're originally from Arkansas?" she probes, still scanning his resume.
"Yes," Kris answers. "I moved here about three months ago."
"Mmm. It says here you've worked as a PA for a local politician, and that you assisted an event planner."
"Yes. Ray Burns ran for mayor in my town two years ago; I worked with him for 12 months. Tough work, but it gave me some relevant, necessary experience," Kris explains. "The event planning was a little easier, but it's given me some good insight into that aspect of assistant work."
The woman nods absently. "That's all well and good. But you've never assisted a celebrity before?"
Kris shakes his head no. "But I imagine it's not unlike assistant work in the political sphere. I can handle it, definitely."
The woman finally looks up from Kris' resume, and she cracks a small smile. "That comment right there tells me you're in over your head. But the truth is, I don't have a lot of options. Have you heard of Adam Lambert?"
"The name sounds familiar," Kris offers, resisting the urge to shrug.
"He won American Idol last year," she elaborates.
"Right," Kris nods, "I remember."
"Okay. Well, he's gone through a few Personal Assistants in the last eight months."
"How many is a few?" Kris asks.
"Thirteen," she says promptly.
Kris can't help it; he lets out a low whistle. "That's a lot."
"Yes. He's what you might call... difficult."
"Which is another way of saying he's demanding. I can handle it," he insists.
The woman watches him for another moment, and then she relaxes in her chair slightly. "Well, Kris, I'm not going to lie to you. The last few employees we've placed with Mr Lambert made some formal complaints in regards to Mr Lambert's... temper. I don't feel right giving you this job without appropriate warning."
Kris considers telling her just how desperate he is for this job. He debates confiding to her that, at this point, it's either PA work or street corner prostitution. Instead, he smiles in a friendly manner.
"I assure you I'm capable of doing this job," he says. "I've had a lot of experience working with difficult people. I'd be very grateful for this opportunity."
She nods again. "You understand you'll be working a 6-day week, on call 24/7? You may also be interrupted on your days off. You must understand that you'll be arranging Mr Lambert's schedule and organizing his travel arrangements, making and receiving all work-related phone calls, and that you may be required to run frequent and unusual errands. That's the sort of job this is."
"I understand all that, yes."
She nods one last time. Then, with a sigh, she closes the folder and places it in the open filing cabinet beside her desk. She slides a form across the desk to Kris and smiles sardonically. "Congratulations, Mr Allen. You've got the job."
"Thank you very much," Kris says enthusiastically. He gets to his feet, reaches across the desk to shake her hand, and scoops up the form.
"You'll start immediately. Simply fill out that form in the lobby and hand it to Peggy at the front desk. She'll give you Mr Lambert's contact information."
"Thanks again. Goodbye."
He starts toward the door of the office, but stops abruptly when the woman calls out. "Oh, and Mr Allen? Good luck," she says, fervently and with a trace amount of trepidation and warning in her voice.
Kris nods his understanding and heads out into the waiting area of the Los Angeles HR department. He fills his form out quickly, hands it over, and takes Adam Lambert's information down accordingly.
Two hours later, street corner prostitution is looking like the far better option.
---
Stepping out into the sunlight, Kris makes the short walk to the parking lot where his car is waiting. He slides in, locates Adam Lambert's number on his blackberry and hits the dial button.
The phone rings twice before it's picked up mid-peal. "What?"
Kris jolts in surprise. "Um, hi. I'm, uh, I'm your new Personal Assistant. My name is --"
"Fuck, took 'em long enough," Adam interrupts, sounding incredibly exasperated. "Be out front in ten minutes."
At the sound of the conversation being disconnected, Kris pulls his phone away from his ear and stares at it, aghast. Didn't even get your name in. Not a good sign. And where the hell is 'out front'?
Kris spends about a minute in thought, and then he locates Adam's agent's number and dials it quickly.
"Hello, Roger Marks speaking."
Kris inwardly sighs in relief. "Hi, this is Kris Allen, Adam Lambert's new assistant," he says in a rush, determined to get all necessary information out as soon as possible this time.
There's a warm chuckle on the other end. "Fresh meat. I'm Roger Marks, and I guess you know I'm Adam's agent. How can I help you?"
Kris sighs gratefully. "Adam wants me 'out front' in ten minutes. I'm not exactly sure where 'out front' is..."
"Yes, he's referring to his home address. Do you have that yet?"
Kris nods, then realizes Roger can't see that particular action. "Yes. Do you have his current schedule on hand?"
"As a matter of fact I do," Roger replies. "I'll email it to you."
"Thank you," Kris says. "My address is kris.allen@gmail.com." He spells it out for Roger, and there are several moments of relative quiet with just the sound of Roger typing on the other end before then he says, "Done."
"Thanks. I suppose we'll be in touch?" Kris hazards.
"Undoubtedly. Good luck." He uses the same tone the HR woman used. Kris swallows hard, says thank you again, and hangs up. Then he starts the car and hightails it over to Adam's house, which is a fair bit more than ten minutes away.
He arrives 'out front' seven minutes late, and Adam's waiting at the end of his driveway. He's wearing a dark blue t-shirt with flashy lettering Kris can't read, extremely tight jeans, a pair of dark, obviously designer sunglasses, and a deep frown.
Adam opens the passenger door as soon as Kris pulls up, and climbs in with a grace Kris could never hope to achieve. "Drive quickly," Adam snaps, "I have a meeting with 19E in five minutes, and if I'm late, you're fired."
Kris' mouth drops open of its own accord, but he snaps to attention, checks the right address on his blackberry, and begins driving - only slightly over the deignated speed limit - to the correct destination.
Adam pulls out a pair of headphones and listens to music on his iPod the whole way.
---
While Adam's in his meeting, Kris goes in search of a coffee shop. He discovers one about two blocks away from the 19E building, and he orders a coffee to sit down with for a few minutes. He passes the time by reading some of the book he's been trying to get through.
Five minutes before the hour, he orders a coffee for Adam (with milk, cream, white and brown sugar, and splenda on the side - just in case Adam's picky) and goes back to the car. There's no sign of Adam just yet, so he listens to some music on the radio until he can't stomach it any longer. His car isn't quite sophisticated enough for CDs, and he doesn't have any tape cassettes (or an iPod for that matter), so he ends up sitting in silence, waiting for Adam to return from his meeting.
Twenty minutes later, Adam storms through the front door of the building and heads straight to Kris' car. He yanks open the door and sits down angrily.
"Drive me home," he demands, already taking out his iPod, but he stops and blinks in confusion when Kris holds out the coffee.
"I've got milk, cream, sugar, and splenda... Don't know how you like your coffee yet, but if you tell me, I'll have it right for next time."
Adam takes the coffee and removes the lid off the cup, peering at the murky depths like it might be poisoned. Kris resists the urge to smack Adam and starts the car instead. Then Adam speaks, and Kris has to actually clench his hands around the steering wheel to stop himself from snapping back.
"First of all, I don't drink anything that isn't Starbucks," Adam states firmly. "Second, this coffee is lukewarm at best, which means it's not fresh and I don't drink anything but fresh-from-the-pot coffee. Finally, I only drink skim milk lattes with extra foam."
Kris has to physically restrain himself from gaping at Adam. Seriously, how the hell is this guy so damn high-maintenance? What's so hard about drinking regular coffee?
"Duly noted," Kris replies dryly, signaling and crossing over to the left lane.
Adam places the full cup of coffee in the cup holder between them, not bothering to put the lid back on. Kris prays silently for patience and ignores the gesture.
"So," Adam says after a long silence. Apparently he's not listening to music after all. "Where are you from?"
Kris cannot believe this guy's audacity. He doesn't even know Kris' name, but he wants to know where Kris is from?
"Arkansas."
Adam laughs. Asshole. "Long way from home, aren't you?"
Kris hesitates then figures maybe Adam's trying to make conversation, as backward as his attempt might be. He shrugs. "I'm trying to make it in the music industry. Figure this is the best way to meet the right people."
"What do you do?"
"I sing," Kris replies.
"You any good?"
"I'm all right."
Adam snorts. "Well, you'll do great things with that attitude!"
Kris doesn't respond to Adam's sarcasm. Adam's actually right about that; Kris does need to work on his attitude. He is definitely not confident enough, which is the opposite of Adam's problem (a definite plus, in Kris' opinion), so Kris doesn't feel too terrible about it.
Adam's phone rings. "Yeah?" Adam answers. Then, "Hey fucker! No, I'll be home in ten. Sure. Perfect! See you. Oh, fuck you," he adds cheerfully before hanging up.
"Drive faster, man," Adam whines a few minutes later.
"Can't afford the ticket, man," he answers shortly, without thinking. He flinches, slightly afraid of Adam's response, but Adam doesn't say anything back, he just starts doing something on his phone; texting, Kris guesses.
Kris seethes some more in silence. He actually wants to quit this job only two hours in. He'd mostly believed the HR woman's dire warnings to be exaggerations, but clearly he was wrong about that. This guy is every bit as awful as his thirteen previous employers said he was.
---
7 am. Kris blinks blearily at his ringing cell phone, presses the Accept button, and says, groggily, "Hello?"
It's Adam, of course. "I need coffee."
Kris thinks for a second. Adam has a rehearsal for the Grammys at 11:00. Why does he need coffee four hours ahead of said time?
"Okay," he grumbles. "See you soon." He hangs up and starts to get ready. It takes him roughly twenty minutes. He can't help but think Adam probably takes hours to get ready, hence the early-morning coffee. Maybe once you become a famous musician, it actually takes four hours to get ready?
Maybe Kris doesn't need to be a famous musician after all...
---
"Hold this," Adam orders, thrusting a basket into Kris' hands at the entrance to H&M. He grabs up a pair of jeans on a display table and plops them into the basket, and three random t-shirts, all without even looking at them. Kris can't help but cringe at Adam's terrible shopping habits.
After several more minutes of Adam placing various garments into the basket, he beckons Kris over to the cash with him. When they get there, the woman behind the counter does a double take.
"Adam Lambert!" she cries.
"Shh! Not so loud," Adam whispers urgently, glancing around quickly.
"Sorry!" she says quickly, grimacing. "I'm a huge fan," she adds, quieter this time. "I adore your album."
Adam smiles tightly, uncomfortably. It's the first time in weeks Kris has seen him look uncomfortable -- generally he looks angry, or bored. "Thank you," Adam says with fake enthusiasm.
Kris places the basket on the counter and pushes it pointedly across the counter to the woman. "Ring these up, please," he requests.
The woman blinks away from Adam and looks at Kris blankly. "Oh!" she says after a moment. "Right!"
Kris rolls his eyes as subtly as possible. If this girl only knew...
When she's finished ringing the items up, returned Adam's credit card and bagged the clothes, which Kris quickly acquires, she looks hopefully at Adam. "Could I get your --?"
"Mr Lambert is in a hurry, sorry," Kris cuts in, and he pulls Adam along by the arm, away from the woman and out into the mall.
"Thanks," Adam says, looking and sounding quite relieved.
Kris smiles. "No problem."
---
"HEY!"
Kris abandons his bookkeeping and walks down the hall, poking his head around the doorway to find a whirlwind of clothes on the floor, and Adam standing in the middle of it. "Yeah?" Kris asks, tentative.
Kris has been doing Adam's bookkeeping in Adam's home office (which continues to remain completely unused by Adam) for the last hour while Adam's been using his free time to, apparently, sort out the wardrobe in hid bedroom.
"I've got to go meet a friend. Clean this up," Adam says shortly.
Kris doesn't move a muscle. "I'm sorry?" he finally asks after nearly half a minute of silence and staring.
"Clean this up. What part of that was difficult to understand?" Adam asks, crossing the room to grab his messenger bag off the end of the bed. "The cleaning part? Well, cleaning is this thing you do where you clean up messes so that they're not there anymore."
Kris steps fully into the room. "Yes, but that's not in my contract. You have a cleaning lady for that; I don't clean up after you."
"You do if you want this fucking job," Adam answers calmly, flippantly, while throwing a tube of mascara into his bag before slinging the bag over his shoulder. "We clear?" he asks innocently.
Kris closes his eyes for a moment, reins in his angry response, and nods curtly.
"Thank you so much," Adam replies disdainfully, and he leaves the room without a backward glance.
---
"I need my fucking snake-skin boots!" Adam shouts in his dressing room, minutes before he's set to go on stage. "If I don't have those fucking boots, I am not going on!"
Adam's handler turns to Kris desperately. Kris heaves an inward sigh and takes off down the hallway, immediately pulling out his cell phone. After several minutes of frantic but polite persuading, Kris manages to get someone to deliver the boots. But it'll take at least twenty minutes. He inhales and exhales deeply for several moments and goes back into Adam's dressing room.
"All right, the good news is that they're on the way," Kris states. "Bad news is it'll be about twenty minutes before they're here."
Adam swears colourfully and chucks a compact container of make-up across the room. It shatters when it hits the wall, and Kris cringes away, surprised. He's used -- really fucking used -- to the shouting, but Kris has never seen Adam get violent like this.
"All right, why don't you take a seat?" Kris offers meagerly, trying to put some calm in his voice and failing miserably.
"Shut the fuck up!" Adam yells. "This is a fucking crisis, and --"
"NO!" Kris shouts, finally done with all of Adam's shit. "It's not a fucking crisis, you dumb jerk!" He's gesturing wildly, and he's flushed with anger, trembling from it. "Haiti is a fucking crisis! The entire continent of Africa's a fucking crisis! Your stupid boots? Are so far from a crisis it's hilarious! Now get your act together and walk out on that stage, and why don't you try being happy that you don't live in a fucking crisis? I'm telling you, your stupid boots will be here for your second act! Goddamn!" He stops shouting, breathing heavily from the exerted energy of his outburst.
Adam stares. He just stares. Then he rolls his shoulders back, takes a deep breath, and walks out of the dressing room and out on to the stage. Kris takes a long drink of water from one of the many bottles in the miniature refrigerator next to the mirror, and wipes his sweaty brow.
He is so fucking fired.
---
As it turns out, Kris isn't fucking fired.
The following morning finds Kris in Starbucks. He gets Adam's usual and heads over to Adam's house. He is, of course, somewhat nervous as to how things are going to go down. When he rings the doorbell, it takes nearly a full minute for Adam to answer the door. When he does, he just gives Kris his usual nod of oh yes, you work for me, don't you?, and nothing at all resembling you're totally fired, don't you know this?
"Come in," Adam says, opening the door wide enough for Kris to enter. Kris is a little surprised, as he generally waits for Adam in the car.
"Here's your coffee," Kris says belatedly, handing it to Adam.
"Thanks," Adam says.
Kris closes the door behind him a little harder than he meant to. Thanks!? For the coffee!?
"You're... welcome?" Kris tries, unaccustomed to saying the words to Adam. They feel funny in his mouth.
"Take a seat on the couch, I'll be back down in a few minutes," Adam says, already starting up the stairs.
Kris does as he's told, glancing around Adam's house; he's never been inside it before. It's spacious and glamorous -- no surprises there. But it's also a little bit understated, which does surprise Kris. And Adam has some actually decent art on his walls, too.
A few minutes later, Adam shoots down the staircase with a man purse of some kind that Kris has never seen before. From inside it, Adam retrieves something encased in plastic, which he immediately hands to Kris.
Kris looks down at the item for a moment, frozen. No. Way.
"Is that...?" Kris starts, turning his head to gape at Adam.
Adam rubs the back of his neck like he's nervous or something, which makes no sense whatsoever, and his eyes flit back and forth between the fireplace and the front window. "I had an extra one lying around. I thought, since you don't have a CD player in your car, and I've never seen you with one before... I thought you'd like this one."
Kris tears his gaze away from Adam's face to examine the iPod even more closely. It's a damn iTouch. Kris shakes his head slightly to force himself out of the weird funk he's in (he's blaming Adam, though, for actually being nice for once). "Thank you," he says, and means it.
"It's nothing, don't worry about it," Adam says quickly, waving Kris' thanks away with one hand, already moving toward the front door. Kris watches Adam put on a pair of vinyl red boots before getting to his feet and following Adam out the door.
He hasn't been fired at all. As a matter of fact, Kris can't help feeling like he's just been bribed into not quitting.
---
Kris answers his phone with a semi-patient, "Yeah?"
"This is an emergency!" Adam says, voice shrill.
"What is?" Kris asks calmly, twisting the top off his beer and taking a long sip. It's his first night off in weeks.
"I've been booted from Conan!"
Kris does his best not to sigh out loud. He mutes the Lakers game on the television and takes another long sip of beer.
"What did his people say?" Kris asks.
"They said they're over-booked! So we got passed over! For fucking Nickelback!"
Kris chuckles. "That is a tragedy," he admits.
Adam laughs softly. "So, what do we do?" he asks after a few moments of comfortable silence, finally sounding a little calmer.
"Well, I'll call his people tomorrow morning and see if we can't get you rescheduled for next week. And if that doesn't work, we'll find you some place else to perform, all right?"
There's some quiet where Kris assumes Adam's considering these terms, then Adam says, "Okay." There's another pause on Adam's end, during which Kris drinks half his beer. "But I'm still pissed off!" Adam adds finally, sounding like it.
"Mhmm. Do you need me on the phone for that?" Kris replies dryly.
"No," Adam admits. Then, curiously, he asks, "What are you doing?"
Kris finishes his beer and opens his second one. "Watching basketball. Or trying to, anyway."
"Okay, okay," Adam says, "sorry. Go be boring on a Thursday night, then."
"I shall. And you have a meeting at 9 am tomorrow," Kris reminds Adam. "Try not to get totally wasted."
"Whatever."
Kris rolls his eyes and hangs up, resting the phone on his coffee table. He turns the volume back on, and settles in for the game.
Maybe he's just getting comfortable in his work, but Kris thinks this job - dealing with Adam - is starting to get a lot easier.
---
Kris walks casually down the hall, but he stops abruptly when Jenny, Adam's new make-up artist, comes barreling out of Adam's dressing room in tears. Kris turns around to watch her wobble down the hallway.
This is going to be fun.
He knocks on the open door of Adam's dressing room. "Saw Jenny leaking liquid from her eyes. You have anything to do with that?"
Adam's busy applying mascara in the mirror, so he doesn't bother to look over. "She doesn't even know how to apply mascara, for fuck's sake. How does she expect to be my make-up artist when she can't even --?" Adam cuts off, swearing abruptly. He wipes an errant, self-caused streak of mascara off his cheek. Kris smirks to himself.
"You know, if you don't cut that out," Kris warns, placing an ice-cold bottle of water next to Adam's elbow on the vanity set, "you're gonna run out of make-up artists pretty quickly."
"Well, I'm not having some amateur bitch do my make-up!"
"Hey!" Kris says sharply. "Don't call her that!"
There's a heavy silence as Adam turns his gaze from the eyes of his own reflection to Kris'. They stare each other down until Adam clears his throat and stands up.
"Okay, tell her - what's her name?"
"Jenny."
"Jenny. Tell Jenny I'm sorry for the outburst, and that as long as she doesn't fuck up my make-up again, she can keep the job."
Kris almost laughs. He rubs a hand over his face and says, "Done. Now hurry up. You have to be ready to go in two minutes."
"Bitch, I was born ready," Adam announces importantly, striking a ridiculous pose that Kris takes a long moment to stare at incredulously. He shakes his head.
"Well, be born ready backstage, please."
---
"He's... He's just such a jerk," Kris says in summation.
Katy laughs heartily. "I'd say that's a pretty tame word to use considering your half hour rant about him."
Kris holds the phone to his ear with his shoulder while he gets out a pot to boil pasta for supper. "Well, I'm a nice guy, unlike him, so I try not to use unkind words."
Katy laughs again. It makes Kris miss home so much he feels his eyes sting. "Have you thought about quitting, Kris?"
"Yes!" Kris replies adamantly. "Of course I have. But... I don't know... I feel like it would be giving up."
"Well, yeah, it kind of would be. But that's not always a terrible thing, despite what people say to the contrary. Sometimes it's healthy to quit."
Kris turns the burner up to the maximum setting. "I know. I just -- I don't feel like that's the right thing to do here. I think he's starting to get better about these things. He's just... used to being a douchebag. And I feel like if I stick around, maybe he'll learn to be nicer."
Katy giggles. "Well, trust your instincts, Kris. They've never steered you wrong before."
Kris sighs. That's exactly what he does, most of the time. And that's the problem, most of the time. "Sound advice. Thanks, Katy."
---
Kris is on the phone scheduling an important gig for Adam while he and Adam stand in line at the bank.
"Thank you very much," Kris says, relieved. "April 10th, 8 pm. Pleasure doing business with you." He ends the call and turns to Adam, eyebrows raised. "Well, you're playing the 02 Arena!"
Adam was rummaging in his purse for something, but he stops immediately. His head snaps up comically, and he grabs Kris' bicep and hauls him closer. "The 02 arena?!" he gasps.
Kris just nods. It's pretty incredible.
Adam suddenly pulls Kris into a fierce hug that takes Kris by complete surprise, which means he freezes for several moments before hesitantly returning the hug. Adam pulls away as easily as he leaned in and actually squeals, "Omigod! I have to tell everyone!"
And then he's on his phone, for at least the next half hour, calling various family members and close friends. Kris thinks Adam really is calling everyone he knows.
Kris rubs his bicep where Adam grabbed him; it feels like Adam's hand is still there, burning a permanent mark in Kris' skin.
---
Returning from yet another shopping spree, as they're about the climb into Kris' car, a middle-aged woman approaches Kris and Adam.
"Excuse me," the woman begins. "I'm sorry to bother you; I'm sure you're very busy, but I was just wondering whether you could..." She trails off for a moment, looking uncertain. "My daughter, Alexis, is a fan," she says to Adam, "and she's very sick. She has leukemia. I know it would be a wish come true for her to meet you."
Kris' heart cries out for this woman that he does not know. He can just tell her words are truthful.
"Of course I'll meet her!" Adam says without hesitation. "She can come to my next show, if she's able. And I'll give her a backstage pass so she can come meet me before the show."
The woman's face transforms into one of real gratitude. "Oh, thank you very much."
"What's your name? I'll put you down for four tickets with backstage passes... she can bring two friends!" Adam goes over to shake the woman's hand. They exchange pleasantries and contact information, and Kris just hangs back. This is a private moment that he's been lucky enough to witness.
There's no denying Adam's got a heart. It's just been hiding a little bit all this time. Kris is encouraged.
---
"Hang on a sec," Adam says as rehearsal wraps up. "I need to piss." He heads off in the direction of the bathroom.
Kris is curled up on a couch in the corner of the rehearsal space. He's been pretending to read while listening to Adam practice with his band for the last hour.
Suddenly, Tommy walks right up to Kris, the rest of his bandmates trailing after him. "Kris, right?" he asks. Kris nods. "Hey, this is the guy that puts Adam in his place once in a while," Tommy explains to his other bandmates.
They all immediately warm to Kris. Monte says, "Ohhh!" and comes over to shake Kris' hand. Longineu and Lisa approach as well to shake his hand.
Lisa says, "You are a total godsend."
Kris feels himself flush. "I don't - I'm not sure I really do anything, to be honest."
"That's not what we've heard," Lisa counters. "Apparently you've told him off a couple times. Jake told us."
Jake is Adam's handler. Kris is surprised he's been talked about amongst their little weird Adam-family. But Adam returns at that point with a shout of, "Come on, guys! The night's still young; let's go get trashed!", and Kris doesn't have a chance to respond.
Things get hectic pretty quickly, with Monte yelling above it all, "No vomiting this time, for fuck's sake, Tommy!"
Kris is still in deep thought when he makes his way home alone a few minutes later.
---
It's the worst day Kris has ever had working for Adam. Two shows have fallen through for the following week, and Adam's in a completely foul mood.
Adam's currently in the middle of a tirade of shouting, at a stagehand who made a very simple, easy-to-fix mistake. Everyone is keeping their distance because Adam is pissed.
It's a lot like that Christian Bale tirade, actually.
"It is so fucking unprofessional to be this careless! Everyone in this room is essentially trusting you with this task, so when you fuck it up, everyone else suffers! Especially me!" Adam says, voice loud and dangerous. "You are easily replaceable. And you can't even do this simple task without screwing up; what the hell else can't you do?"
"I'm really sorry!" the stagehand says, and he looks like he might cry. There are about twenty people scattered around the stage, all of them pretending Adam isn't shouting at one of his employees.
"I don't want you to be sorry! I want you to not fuck up!" Adam shouts.
That's the breaking point for Kris. He approaches carefully. "Hey, uh, Adam? D'you think we could let it go now? I think Bill heard you."
Adam whips around and looks down at Kris. He is radiating anger like Kris has rarely seen before. "Excuse me? Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?" he demands, and his voice rings out in the huge auditorium. Kris sees people actually stop what they're doing to watch their fascinating 'performance'.
"Adam, come on," Kris says, speaking quieter in contrast to Adam's shouting. "He's obviously sorry. And Christina fixed it, so this is really unnecessary."
Adam lets out an actual roar of anger. "This is my fucking show, and these are the people who work for me, so I'll decide what's necessary! And if you have a fucking problem with that, you can always quit!"
And suddenly Kris knows exactly what to do. "Okay."
Adam had started to turn away, but he turns back abruptly, his eyes wide and shocked. "What?"
"Okay, I quit," Kris elaborates. "Consider this my two weeks' notice."
A ringing silence fills the hall.
---
Kris wakes up to the sound of his doorbell ringing. Groaning feebly, he drags himself out of bed, pulls on a pair of jeans and a white cotton t-shirt, and stumbles out of his bedroom and down the hall to the front door.
A glance at the digital clock on his VCR tells him it's 7:21 in the morning. There's only one person that could possibly be on the other side of his door at this hour of the morning.
He opens the door on Adam, who's wearing tight black pants and a blue-green hoodie (Adam would probably know what that colour's called). His hair is without product, and he looks extremely tired. Well, more tired than usual. The whole look really works for Adam. Kris definitely prefers this look to Adam's more glammed up, rocker one.
Adam thrusts his hand out, and Kris looks down to find a coffee clutched in Adam's grip. He raises an eyebrow. "More bribery?" he says, unsurprised.
Adam cringes. "Maybe. Can I come in?"
Kris doesn't hesitate; he takes the coffee from Adam, and walks back inside his own apartment, trusting Adam to let himself in and shut the door himself. Kris heads over to his sofa and sits down, Adam trailing not far behind him.
Adam looks so strange against Kris' plain, black sofa in Kris' plain, tiny apartment. And yet, Kris likes the look of him there. However, he refuses to analyze that train of thought without appropriate caffeine intake. He takes a long, pleasant sip of coffee.
Adam clears his throat. "I'm sorry."
Kris blinks in response.
"I know I'm difficult to work for," Adam says.
Kris can't help it; he laughs. "Adam, that is the understatement of the century."
Adam actually blushes! Then he nods his head in acknowledgment of Kris' statement. "Fair enough." A pained expression comes over Adam's face, as if he isn't used to this apology thing. "Look, I - I really don't want you to quit. You're good - the best PA I've ever had, and I don't want anyone else doing this job. Please reconsider."
Kris takes a moment to gawk at Adam, and then he shakes his head in disbelief. "You are unbelievable. You're sitting in my apartment telling me I'm a good PA, and you expect me to work for you and take all the crap you dish out, and you don't even know my name!"
It's Adam's turn to gawk. "What? Yes I do! I know your name!"
Kris scoffs. "Oh yeah? What is it?"
"Kris Allen."
Kris feels like he's in the twilight zone. "When we first met, I didn't even get to introduce myself. And you've never used my name! Not once!"
Adam sighs. "You're my PA. I sign your paychecks, of course I know your name. I just --" Adam looks away for a moment, biting his bottom lip. When he looks back, Kris can see the anxiety in Adam clearly. "I've gone through thirteen --" Adam laughs humourlessly, "'scuse me, fourteen Personal Assistants in the last year. After the first five, I just stopped using their names."
Kris looks away.
"And I know I bring it on myself," Adam continues, "but it still hurt. I'd get used to someone, and then they'd quit. And I don't want that to happen again. Kris..." Kris snaps his gaze to Adam's, and they lock eyes. "Please don't quit. You keep me in check. I need that. I really am working on my attitude, and I'll keep working on it. Just. Please don't quit."
Adam's begging.
Damn it.
"All right," Kris relents, and Adam sags into the sofa in relief.
"Oh, thank fuck!" Adam says fervently. "I had all this - all this stuff ready to go in case you were gonna be stubbourn about it."
"What else were you going to bribe me with?" Kris jokes, smiling.
Adam smiles back. "I had a brand new car waiting out front."
The smile's gone from Kris' face in about two seconds flat. "Are you kidding?"
"Nope," Adam grins. "Well, we've been working together for several months now, and I think you deserve a bonus."
The grin is back on Kris' face even quicker than it left.
---
"Fucking fuck!" Adam shouts, pounding the counter with a large fist.
Kris looks up from his laptop to find Adam peering into the toaster. "What's up?"
"I burned my toast! Fuck!"
Kris tries to keep a straight face. "You... burned toast?"
Adam's head snaps up. "Hey, fuck you!" he says, but he's smiling. Adam pouts. "I'm hungry."
"And clearly you have no idea how to cook, if the toast in anything to go by," Kris snorts.
"Shut up," Adam says, petulant.
Kris laughs and stands up. "Go sit down. I'll make you something."
Adam sighs and throws his hands up, backing away from his own kitchen. He takes a seat in Kris' vacated spot while Kris searches for something to make for dinner.
Lately, Kris has taken to hanging out with Adam outside of work. It's a new development in their weird working relationship, but Kris has to admit he's happy about it. Adam's one of the only people Kris sees on a regular basis, and it's kind of nice to have something to do outside of work besides watching television and writing music. Both endeavors become tired after a while, Kris has discovered.
"Hey," Adam says a few minutes later, and at Adam's soft tone Kris looks up from chopping vegetables for their pasta. "Are these song lyrics?"
Kris can't move. "Uh, yeah," he admits after a pause.
"They are really good," Adam says breathlessly, looking up from Kris' laptop (upon which Kris had apparently left his lyrics open) and fixing Kris with a strange expression that Kris can't read.
Kris takes several deep breaths to calm his fast-beating heart. He hasn't shown very many people his music. It's always been sort of private, something he did in the privacy of his bedroom, but something he's always wanted to share without knowing why or how to go about it. Adam is the last person Kris wants to share his music with. Adam's amazing, and Kris feels immeasurable in comparison.
"They're okay," Kris finally manages, voice a little strange in his own ears.
"Um. No," Adam says firmly. "They're amazing."
Kris shrugs and continues chopping.
"Can I hear it?" Adam asks after another minute of silence. Kris freezes again.
"Okay, what's this about?" Kris asks, turning away from the counter to face Adam. "Why do you want to?"
Adam looks confused. Then he looks like he's figured Kris out, which definitely scares Kris. "You've got a serious confidence problem, Kris. You really gotta work on that. I want to hear it because I like your lyrics. I think they'd sound great if you put them to music."
Kris's hands are shaking, so he shoves them in his pockets, shuffling his feet nervously. "I don't know..."
"Come on," Adam urges gently. "I saw the guitar in the living room; you obviously play. I wish I could play an instrument..."
"I could teach you," Kris offers, eager to change the subject, but, unfortunately, Adam's quicker than that.
"First of all, no changing the subject," Adam starts adamantly. "Second, no way. I'm hopeless. Trust me, I've tried to learn a few instruments. My brother Neil tried to teach me the keyboard for years, and I could never get it. And my friend Alisan plays the guitar; no luck." And then, after a pause, "And last of all, no changing the subject!"
Kris spares a moment to appreciate that Adam has just shared with Kris something completely unrelated to work. He now knows Adam has a brother called Neil, and a friend named Alisan. Then he sighs, because Adam must mean business if he bothered to repeat himself.
"Fine."
Adam cheers. "Awesome!"
After dinner, Adam forces Kris into the living room and actually hands Kris the guitar. Then he sits down, waiting expectantly for Kris to start.
Kris hesitates for a few seconds, and then he just gives it up. At some point, if he's really serious about making a career out of his music, he's going to have to get over his nerves. Besides, Adam will tell him if he sucks, and that'll be that.
"It - it doesn't have a title," Kris stammers.
"That's okay," Adam says encouragingly, giving Kris a friendly smile.
Taking a deep breath, Kris arranges his fingers in the first chord position on his guitar, feeling her out for the right rhythm. Then he starts to play.
He actually loses himself in the music. He'd always thought Eminem was exaggerating a little bit, but clearly not.
He's not used to having an audience, so he sort of tunes Adam out, focusing his energy instead on playing and singing with all his heart. When he's finished, he has to drag himself out of a trance-like state of bliss. It's like being drunk, but better. He feels so good. He feels alive.
When Kris comes back down to earth, he discovers Adam leaning back against the arm of the couch, eyes squeezed shut, and clutching his own chest with one hand. After a heavy, significant pause, Adam lets out a soft, "Oh," that is way too meaningful for Kris to analyze fully.
Adam seems to take a moment to collect himself, and then he opens his eyes and faces Kris with a warmth in his gaze that is completely unfamiliar to Kris. "That was..." Adam trails off. "I don't even have words for it," he admits, and Kris thinks he can hear tremors in Adam's voice. Adam covers his face with one hand, and then he looks straight at Kris again and smiles genuinely. "It was magical."
Kris feels his heart pounding again, and he vaguely wonders how much of it was inspired by the adrenaline of the performance.
---
Kris lets himself into Adam's house with the key Adam made for him. He takes his shoes off neatly by the door and ventures into the entrance way with a tentative, "Hello?"
"Kris!" Adam calls from the kitchen, "Hey! Come on in here!"
Kris smiles to himself and walks into the kitchen to find Adam sitting there with a man who looks to be in his mid-twenties, and a woman who must be Adam's mother. Kris can always sense a mother.
"Kris," Adam says, smiling, "this is my mother Leila, and that's my brother Neil." He gestures to them as he says their names, and Kris walks forward to shake each of their hands in turn with a genuine, "Nice to meet you..."
"Mom, Neil," Adam continues, "this is my PA, Kris."
Leila smiles at Kris in a way that Kris totally associates with mothers. It makes him miss his own mother. "It's so great to finally meet you, Kris. Thanks for taking such good care of Adam."
"Mom," Adam groans, shaking his head, looking embarrassed. It makes him look about half his age.
Kris smiles tightly, nervous. "I didn't realize you had company." Kris looks around at them all. "I can give you updates tomorrow," he offers, turning to Adam.
"No, it's fine," says Adam, "I'd like to hear the updates now."
Kris frowns. "You're with your family. I can come back tomorrow. It's really not that important."
"I want," says Adam firmly, "to hear what's going on."
They stare each other off, as they're prone to do these days, for a few moments before Kris backs off. This is one area Kris has been unsuccessful in; Adam works too hard, and no amount of argument on Kris' part will persuade him to take on fewer projects.
"Workaholic," Kris grumbles, opening his Blackberry to get to the necessary updates. He realizes belatedly that he's just called his boss a workaholic in front of said boss's mother and brother, and blushes. But when he looks up again Neil and Leila are exchanging looks of amusement and... is that approval?
"Okay, do you want the good news or the bad news first?" Kris asks.
Adam makes a face. "Bad."
"Some sleazebag did an interview with National Enquirer about you and him. Said you hooked up a few years ago, before Idol," Kris says, looking at Adam up and rolling his eyes. "But it's the National Enquirer, so nobody gives a damn. But you should know about the story anyway."
Adam sits back heavily in his chair. "What's his name?"
"Bruce White. Most boring name ever," Kris adds, unthinkingly. He just holds back another blush. Where's your filter? He supposes he has been more open with Adam in the last few weeks, but has he really become this comfortable with him?
Adam laughs, and Kris sees Neil and Leila exchange a grin in the peripherals of his vision. "No, I definitely wouldn't hook up with someone called Bruce. Plus, I know who I've hooked up with in the last few years: the list is pretty short."
Kris nods. "You may want to make an official statement about it. You've been getting a flood of twats about it, and Roger called earlier to let you know he's willing to take the guy to court if you want to."
Adam shakes his head. "I don't care that much. I'll just twat about it later. What's the good news? Or is there more bad?"
Kris smiles. "No more bad. All the major radio stations in the country announced your European tour today."
Adam's whole face lights up. Leila stands up immediately and hugs her son, who grips her tightly. Neil hugs him after that, and then Adam's on his feet. He takes the few steps over to Kris and pulls him into a bear hug. Kris finches once in shock, then hugs him back carefully. Adam pulls away and claps his hands together once.
"Let's order in! Pizza?"
"I can make the order; what do y'all want?" Kris says.
"Just order two extra-large, one all-dressed, one meat-lovers," Adam replies.
"Sure thing," Kris says, heading out into the living room to make the order. He also makes a quick call to Roger, and then he hangs up and goes back to the kitchen, but he hears hushed voices and he can't help eavesdropping.
Leila's speaking. "He seems really great."
"Mmm. He's the best PA I've ever had," Adam replies, and Kris realizes with a jolt that they're talking about him. About his efforts as a PA.
"He's funny," Neil adds. "That's a plus."
"He seems very nice and polite," Leila continues.
"Efficient," Neil says shortly.
"And he's attractive, too!" Leila concludes. Kris vaguely wonders what that has to do with his ability to be a good PA. "What's not to love about him?"
"Stop it, you two," Adam chides.
"Do you know if he's gay?" Neil asks curiously.
Okay, that definitely has nothing to do with Kris' ability to be a good PA, and Kris isn't sure he wants to hear Adam's answer, so he coughs twice, counts to three, and walks back into the kitchen.
To their credit, Leila and Neil are very good at pretending they weren't just talking about Kris. They immediately strike up a conversation about something political while Kris tries not to analyze the conversation he just overheard.
He's not sure he's ready for that yet.
---
On Leila's instructions, Kris drags Adam to a grocery store so that Adam will have actual food in his house. Kris is more than willing to follow this order, and not just because he likes Leila. Adam doesn't eat anything of real substance all that often, so Kris is definitely willing to remedy that.
"You need calcium! That's something you need, Adam," Kris stammers, flabbergasted to learn Adam hasn't consumed milk in months.
Adam shrugs. "I don't really like it."
"Then drink soy milk! You need your proper nutrients."
"Okay, mom," Adam teases.
Kris does not like that comparison one bit. He's about to respond when his phone rings. His caller ID says 'Mom', and by that very small piece of information alone, Kris knows this call is important.
"Mom, what's wrong?" Kris answers.
"It's nothing to worry about, Kris," his mom says right away, trying to be reassuring, but her shaking voice gives her away. "Daniel was in a car accident; he's fine, but he has a broken collar bone and a concussion, and they're not sure how severe it is. I thought you'd want to know."
"God, mom," Kris mumbles, pacing the grocery aisle absently. "Is he awake?"
"No, he's still unconscious, but the doctor says he's sure Daniel will make a full and quick recovery."
"Okay, I'll be there tonight or tomorrow morning."
"Oh, no, dear, Daniel wouldn't want you to put your life on hold for him like this."
"Mom, I'm coming," Kris insists. "I love you."
"I love you too, dear. Be safe."
"You too. 'Bye." Kris ends the call in a daze.
When they were growing up, Daniel was always getting hurt. He was constantly grazing his hands and knees on the rocky ground, or spraining his ankle trying to climb over the thicket despite Kris' dire warnings of its dangers. He'd once broken his arm attempting to ride their neighbour's horse, despite the fact that it had beeen expressly against their parents' rules. Whenever Dan got hurt, Kris would take on the job of nurse, and once Dan was all better, Kris would go off on him. The very idea that Dan might not have been all right... that something could have happened...
The phone call is such a blast to the past that it leaves Kris floundering for several moments. He eventually turns to Adam, who's watching Kris with a look of deep concern on his face. "What's going on?" Adam asks gently.
"My brother Dan was in a car accident. He's okay, but I gotta go see him."
"No, of course," Adam says immediately, "if it were Neil..." Adam places a hand on Kris' shoulder. "I'm gonna book you a flight under my name. You can fly first class, and I want to pay for your ticket both ways. Don't worry about work, just go and call me when you want to come back, all right?"
Kris looks up at Adam. There are too many complicated emotions swirling inside of Kris. He wants to say more, to indicate his gratitude in a thousand different ways, but all he can manage right now is a gruff, choked-off, "Thank you."
"Don't mention it," Adam replies quietly.
It's a moment to end all moments. But it ends before it really begins, and Kris is grateful because he knows he's not ready to address his complicated feelings toward Adam just yet. He needs to be with his brother. He needs to talk to his brother, his smart brother who always knows just what to say.
He needs some time to think.
---
When Kris arrives at the hospital the following morning - a bright and early 6 am - he finds the room with little to no trouble. As soon as he walks into the... into Dan's hospital room, his eyes well up. He hasn't seen his family in over six months. He's been working so hard, and while he does talk to them fairly regularly, it's not the same as seeing them up close after what feels like so long. His heart is flooded with love for his parents and his brother, the people in his life who are most important.
His mother and father immediately sweep Kris up in a tight embrace. Kris holds on to them for a long time, a few minutes at least, and when he pulls away his eyes and face are wet.
"We'll leave you two to catch up for a while," his mom says, always the most brilliant, intuitive woman in Kris' life. Kris waits until they've left the room to turn and face his brother.
Dan's grinning tiredly at him. He's got a sling around his arm, and the bed is arranged at a 90 degree angle so that Dan is sitting up. Most of his exposed skin is purple with extensive bruising. The sight of Dan like this grips Kris with a bone-chilling fear.
Kris approaches carefully. "What's the diagnosis?" he asks after a lengthy pause of deafening quiet.
"Broken collar bone," Dan replies, nonchalant. "They fixed the break surgically 'cause it was 100% broken in half. Usually a collarbone, if it's broken 50 or 75%, can be fixed with just a sling, but that process takes months. Mine's already fixed, so I think I got the better deal."
Kris stares at his brother, aghast. "You had surgery?"
"Yep. It was pretty cool," Dan enthuses.
"For fuck's sake, Daniel!" Kris bursts out, unable to hold back his anger/fear. Adam's clearly rubbing off on him, and right now Kris is grateful for it. "What the hell happened?"
"Are you swearing?" Dan asks incredulously, still grinning. "You must be really mad."
Kris throws himself into the chair beside Dan's bed, exhausted. "Mad doesn't cover the half of it, bud." He sighs. "What happened, Dan?" he asks, calmer this time but just as firmly.
"Missed a turn, flipped into a ditch," Dan says, casual, like he's discussing the weather at the crash site rather than the crash itself.
"Could you be anymore casual about it?" Kris snaps.
"Probably."
"Seriously, Dan. You've gotta be more careful," Kris urges, voice cracking under the weight of his many emotions.
Dan finally sobers, the smile vanishing from his face to be replaced with a look of consideration. "Why'd you come all the way out here, anyway? You knew I'd be fine."
Kris is sick of his own moodiness. "Are you --? Damn it, man, what would you do it if it were me?"
Dan stares at Kris, and Kris knows he's imagining it, imagining Kris in the hospital bed with the broken collarbone and concussion. Dan finally looks rattled.
"Can we change the subject, please?" Dan asks after a long moment.
Kris takes pity on his stupid, careless, wonderful brother, nodding vaguely and scrubbing his face with his hands, sighing deeply. Daniel's all right. Stop this.
"How's work?" Dan asks. "Your boss still an asshole?"
Kris bursts out laughing, and he feels some of the tension in his body seeping away. "Yup. But he's less of an asshole now, and he's kind of grown on me."
There must be something revealing in Kris' face because Dan raises his eyebrows significantly. "Oh boy," he says after a pregnant pause, smirking.
Kris groans and slumps in the uncomfortable chair. "Don't."
"Oh man!" Dan crows, looking Christmas has come early. "You've got it bad, buddy!"
Kris says nothing. There's really nothing to say. Dan knows Kris better than anyone on this planet; it's not surprising he just knows how Kris feels.
"So," Dan says briskly. "How's he feel about you?"
Kris pauses to consider the question, then shrugs. "I don't know. Sometimes I think he feels the same way, but other times..." He trails off. Dan looks skeptical.
"Come on. You can't tell me he likes women? He seems like the gayest gay to ever gay."
Kris laughs heartily, heart warmed. It feels damn good to laugh unabashedly. "Nah, he's definitely gay. He came out in Rolling Stone last year."
Dan looks satisfied. "Well, then there you go. That path is clear!"
"No, it's not," Kris denies, irritated. "Just because he's gay -- it doesn't mean he'll go for me. Adam could have anybody."
"Excuse me?" Dan says, looking affronted. "What's wrong with you? Why wouldn't he like you? Everyone falls in love with you!"
"What?" Kris gapes, laughing in surprise. "No, they don't."
"Oh, yes they do. Don't think I haven't noticed your wily ways, Kristopher Allen."
They both laugh, hard and long until they can hardly breathe from it. Kris feels infinitely better at the end of it, like a huge weight's been lifted off his chest.
"Whew!" Dan says, chuckling. "So... how did Adam react to you coming back here, anyway?"
Kris yawns, stretching out his cramped, restless legs. It's been a long night. "He was great about it. Paid for my flight, got me a first class seat..."
Dan's yawning when Kris says the last part, so he sort of chokes on it a bit, looking at Kris with shock and eventual amusement. "And you're not sure how he feels about you? I'm sorry, if a man buys you a plane ticket, he's in love with you. That's just how the world works."
Kris laughs, but it's mostly to disguise his immediate fear of Dan's words and the meaning behind them. He's sure Dan's right, and that notion - rather than make him happy - is terrifying to Kris.
---
Dan smiles from his sprawled-out position on his childhood bed, where he'll be staying for the next week, if their mother has anything to say about it. Kris is about to leave for L.A, so he's saying goodbye, and not being emotional about it. At all.
"Okay," Dan says. "When you get back to L.A., what are you going to do?"
"Get back to work," Kris evades.
"No, you're going to tell Adam how you feel so you can work everything out and become a sickeningly cute couple forever and always."
Kris pulls a face. "Damn it, man, what are you even saying?"
Dan grins. "The crash has made me realize a few things about life and mortality and love --"
"No it hasn't, doofus," Kris says, rolling his eyes. "You're just being obnoxious."
"Kris." Dan sits up in the bed, expression serious. "I'm... I'm telling you, you should really tell Adam how you feel. You could be missing out on something great if you don't."
Kris hesitates, considering. That was actually kind of nice. And made a lot of sense, which is weird for Daniel.
"Thanks for the advice. I'll think about."
"You do that. Now go catch your flight. Did Adam book this one?"
Kris shakes his head. "I couldn't call him. Too nervous. It'll be a surprise when I get there."
"But..." Dan stutters, "but he offered to pay for your flight back. Why would you turn that down?"
Kris grins at Dan. "I'm Adam Lambert's Personal Assistant. I'm extremely well-paid."
---
Stepping off the plane and into the terminal, Kris goes on a quick search for his luggage, which has, of course, been lost in the travel process. He can't remember where he parked his car, so he spend about twenty minutes searching for that before finally gets out on the road.
On the drive home, Kris reflects on Adam's smile. Recalling the look on Adam's face when he's being considerate, or when he's looking at Kris (in recent months, anyway) drive him to Adam's house instead. He doesn't plan it that way; it just happens.
He pulls up near Adam's house, parking a short distance away. He waves at the security guard standing beside the front gate, who gives him an enthusiastic wave and lets him through with a friendly smile. It's 10:30 in the morning, so it's entirely possible Adam's not home. Or that he's sleeping. Kris realizes suddenly that he has no idea where Adam is, and he doesn't like that feeling. He's been arranging Adam's schedule for over six months, and being unaware of it is strangely - or perhaps not so strangely - troubling.
He smooths out the non-existent wrinkles in his clothes, a white t-shirt with a plaid button-down shirt over it, and his favourite pair of jeans, and rings the doorbell.
He's standing there, heart pounding, hands sweating, for 35 seconds (Kris absolutely counts) before the door's thrown wide open.
Adam's standing there in grey sweat pants and a white sleeveless top. His hair isn't styled, and he has no make-up on. He's just Adam. Exactly the way Kris likes him.
Adam stares at Kris for about three seconds, and then he says, "Oh thank god!" before pulling Kris inside, slamming the door shut and pushing Kris up against it.
Kris stares up at Adam, hands shaking when he places one on Adam's shoulder and one on the side of his face. "I missed you," he croaks.
Adam buries his head in Kris' throat and inhales deeply. "Missed you too," he mumbles, kissing the skin there. Kris' breath hitches. "Oh, you smell so good."
Kris lets out a shaky laugh, and then he's pulling Adam in for a kiss. A real kiss.
Their mouths collide shakily, clumsily, tongues exploring each other's mouths tentatively. Kris finds his hands exploring every inch of skin they can find on Adam's body while Adam's got both of his hands on either side of Kris' face. He's licking into Kris' mouth, biting Kris' lips gently. Kris moans softly, opening his mouth wider and letting Adam further in.
Kris wraps his left leg around Adam's, resting it on the inside of Adam's knee, angling his hips up while Adam angles his down. The friction is perfect; they moan and gasp together.
Adam pulls away carefully, placing a quick, chaste kiss on Kris' mouth, and then he smiles that smile Kris was thinking about on the drive over. "I've been a mess without you here, Kris. You help keep my life in order, and I don't -- it's so good to have you back."
Kris can think of nothing to say in response, so he simply kisses Adam again. This time he bites Adam's lip, but not quite so gently. Then he whisper-laughs into Adam's half-smile. "You know, I just realized," Kris says, smirking, "that this is sort of a conflict of interest, isn't it? Perhaps I should write you up for sexual harassment? It's extremely unprofessional for us to be working and sleeping together, Mr Lambert. I mean, I am your PA."
Adam throws his head back and laughs and Kris strokes his hand down the exposed skin of Adam's throat, his cock throbbing as a helpful reminder of what they're not doing while they stand here talking.
"Or maybe I'll just replace you," Adam says thoughtfully, teasingly, kissing the corner of Kris' mouth. "Or promote you."
Kris sighs in a long-suffering manner, a deep smile on his face. "Fine," he says, kissing Adam on the lips once, twice, "but that promotion better stick."
Adam laughs and kisses Kris again, one of his hands straying south, toward Kris' tented jeans. "Well, let's see... you aced the interview," Adam's reaching in, stroking over the bulge in Kris' boxers, "and you clearly have the necessary experience. I think you'll be perfect for this job..." he concludes, closing one hand around Kris' dick. Kris lets out a raw moan. "But you're finding me a new PA, bitch," he mutters, with feeling, into Kris' ear, biting down hard on Kris' earlobe.
"Damn it," Kris gasps, thrusting forward into Adam's amazingfabuloustalented hand. "I knew there'd be a catch..."
Kris pulls Adam closer.
@@@
Epilogue
A few weeks later...
Kris turns the doorknob and walks into his office to find the young woman already seated in front of his desk. He smiles at her and sits down in his chair, laying out the woman's resume on the desk before him.
"Allison, right?" Kris asks genially.
"Yup," she says, grinning. She has long black hair, styled in a way sort of similar to Adam's but with several streaks of pink in it. "Allison Iraheta."
"Nice to meet you, Allison," Kris says, leaning forward to shake her hand. "It says here you have no experience as a Personal Assistant."
Allison scrunches up her face, looking a little guilty. "I probably shouldn't say this, but the truth is, I just want the chance to work for Adam Lambert. I'm a singer, and Adam's one of the best... I think it'd be great for my career in music. And look, I'm a hard-worker and I'm very personable. I'm totally capable of doing this job. But I thought I should be honest about my motivations here."
Kris leans forward and props his elbows on his desk. "That's... very straightforward. I like that." Kris chews his bottom lip, thinking. "The truth is, I think Adam would really like you."
Allison's smile is practically blinding. "Can I ask you a question?" she asks excitedly.
"Sure," Kris says, smiling. There's something about this girl that makes him want to do just about anything for her.
"You were Adam's PA before, right? Is it true you're dating Adam Lambert now? There hasn't been an official statement, but everyone thinks you're an item."
Kris' smile gets even bigger. "I was his PA, yeah. And... yeah, we're together." Feels so good to say it out loud.
Allison squeals, "That's adorable!"
Kris blushes. What is happening to this interview? He clears his throat. "But if you're chosen for this position, you need to understand what's required for this job. You'll often be working 6 days a week, and you'll have to be on call in case something important comes up. You should understand that you'll be arranging Adam's schedule and organizing his travel arrangements, making and receiving all work-related phone calls, and going for coffee runs fairly regularly. It won't be easy, I can tell you that from experience, but the job will be a lot easier for you than it was for me or Adam's other Personal Assistants. Adam can be a bit of a diva sometimes, but he does have a heart of gold. If you look deep enough."
Allison smiles, looking pensive. "So he is still a diva sometimes? 'Cause, I don't know, a little bit of diva isn't so bad. I kinda like that in a guy," she says mischievously.
Kris laughs softly. "Don't worry, he's still a diva," Kris assures her, smiling widely. He likes this girl. "And I like that in a guy, too," he adds, folding his hands together and placing them on the desk between them. "So, when can you start?"
The End.
Note: Yes, I know. Where's the sex? Don't worry, I'll put out a companion piece to this story in the coming weeks, with sex. I promise.
Thank you all so very much for the support with this story over at aianonlovefest!!
Please feel free to leave a comment on your way out!