American Idol: Chris/Blake: It's a Mixed Up, Muddled Up, Shook Up World...
Okay, first you need to know there's a story behind this cracky piece of work. Basically, there's a video (I think TMZ?) of Blake in the backseat of a car, and he's telling his friend Cisco to sit up front so Chris can sit next to him in the back. Apparently someone, somewhere else, was talking about the video and said it was Blake and JORDIN. When someone mentioned that, I said "Easy to confuse the two. I mean, Chris and Jordin look so much alike! That must be why Blake is with Chris, he's just confused and thought he was Jordin the first time and now he feels bad and doesn't want to have to break that to Chris." andthatisthat and raspsun said that would make a hilarious crackfic, so I thought I'd try it.
Title: It's a Mixed Up, Muddled Up, Shook up World Except for C-H-R-I-S
Pairing: Chris/Blake (American Idol)
Rating: PG-13, I guess?
Summary: Blake mistakes Chris for Jordin.
Disclaimer: I sure hope this didn't really happen!
Notes/Warnings: Crackfic. Minor mentions of het thoughts, nothing het actually happens. Quickly written and unbeta'd, so hopefully there aren't any embarrassing grammar mistakes. The title comes from the lyrics of "Lola" by the Kinks.
Blake sighs and tilts his head to the side as Chris kisses and nips at his neck. He brings one hand up behind the other man's back and picks at one of his fingernails. Is Chris done yet? As Chris rolls his hips down into Blake's and works his hand under Blake's shirt, he thinks nope, guess not, and sighs again (there might have been a little gasp, also, but just a tiny one).
He only had himself to blame for this situation, really.
Blake had been interested in Jordin from the beginning. She was pretty, talented, and she may not have been the waspish model type but Blake didn't like that look much anyway. Okay, so she was only seventeen but she would be eighteen soon and Blake could deal with some heavy petting until her birthday, right? Blake was plotting how to make this happen one night, and got smashingly drunk. Someone had entered the room and started moving around, and Blake squinted at the figure but couldn't make out who it was. After a few minutes, the person came over to Blake and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Are you drunk, Blake?" He looked up. The person's sweet face was framed with black -- or was that just the dark? Was that Jordin?
Blake leaned into the touch. "Just a little, maybe." He reached out and gripped the other person's arm. Whoa, Jordin had some solid arms. Okay, he was cool with that. No secret that Jordin was a solid girl. But these are kinda extra-muscled -- kind of like Chris', he thought, mm. He frowns for a second, thinking, but then he's being gently pushed back, coaxed into laying down. Jordin -- he's pretty sure that's who it is, muscled arms or no -- sits on the side of the bed and pulls the covers up, telling him to get some rest.
Before Blake knew it, words were tumbling out of his mouth. He mumbled something about how he's felt this burning love since their eyes met and that how he couldn't stop thinking about it. He's also pretty sure he said something about how their love might be a forbidden one but he doesn't care if it's them against the world, they'll get through it, and then some more romantic babbling. He's not too sure that he got the point across, but apparently he did, because the next thing that happens is there were a pair of lips attached to his own and oh, this is very good, this was exactly his plan, yes.
When Blake awoke, head mildly throbbing, he looked over and his breath caught. Chris was in his bed. Chris, as in Chris Richardson, who is most definitely not Jordin. Blake pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a huff. Does this make him gay? Bisexual? Okay, there was that one time freshman year of college, but that doesn't count. And that other time at that one club. Wait, wait. This is not the time to have an identity crisis, because the more important question is -- how on earth did he mistake Chris Richardson for Jordin Sparks? Chris, who, if the look on his now awake but still sleepy face was any indication, wanted every word that Blake uttered last night to be absolutely true. He pecked Blake on the lips and asked what he wanted for breakfast.
And so that was how it began a few weeks ago. Chris was his friend, and he felt really, really guilty that he had somehow -- he still hadn't figured out how -- mistaken him for Jordin. So, like, the least he could do was cuddle with him and have some sex that might or might not have been fantastic, not that you need to know, thank you. And he might have let Chris fuck him a few times. Just a few.
As Chris slips his hand into Blake's pants, Blake decides he can no longer live a lie. "Chris, hold on."
Chris pulls back and looks at him. "What?"
"I have to be honest with you, because you're my friend and I love you, dude. I'm straight."
Chris stares at him. Blake fidgets. Chris stares at him some more, and then bursts out laughing.
"I'm serious. I was, like, really drunk that night and I thought you were Jordin. And then I couldn't just tell you that I thought it was Jordin I was having really hot sex with, because that would have been mean. I swear." Blake is very frustrated that Chris doesn't believe him. How hard is it to believe he's straight?
"I should probably be offended at that," Chris says, "but that's a bit impossible at the moment because it's so hilarious. Blake, okay, maybe you thought Jordin a bit attractive, but perfectly straight men don't have sex with other men and enjoy it just out of a sense of obligation."
Huh. He kind of has a point.
"And I'm pretty sure you never said Jordin's name that night, and you said mine a couple times, so, yeah. And if your reactions are any sign, you don't mind what we do. I hate to break it to you, man, but you might just be a little bit gay."
Blake processes this. He supposes that Chris is making sense. Maybe those two -- three? four? -- times did count. Huh. They should have like a guidebook or something for this, it would help out a lot. And maybe he did tend to gasp and moan a lot whenever Chris was kissing down his neck and chest like he was doing now, okay, yes, Blake thought, and it was Chris, not Jordin, and life was pretty great.
Title: It's a Mixed Up, Muddled Up, Shook up World Except for C-H-R-I-S
Pairing: Chris/Blake (American Idol)
Rating: PG-13, I guess?
Summary: Blake mistakes Chris for Jordin.
Disclaimer: I sure hope this didn't really happen!
Notes/Warnings: Crackfic. Minor mentions of het thoughts, nothing het actually happens. Quickly written and unbeta'd, so hopefully there aren't any embarrassing grammar mistakes. The title comes from the lyrics of "Lola" by the Kinks.
Blake sighs and tilts his head to the side as Chris kisses and nips at his neck. He brings one hand up behind the other man's back and picks at one of his fingernails. Is Chris done yet? As Chris rolls his hips down into Blake's and works his hand under Blake's shirt, he thinks nope, guess not, and sighs again (there might have been a little gasp, also, but just a tiny one).
He only had himself to blame for this situation, really.
Blake had been interested in Jordin from the beginning. She was pretty, talented, and she may not have been the waspish model type but Blake didn't like that look much anyway. Okay, so she was only seventeen but she would be eighteen soon and Blake could deal with some heavy petting until her birthday, right? Blake was plotting how to make this happen one night, and got smashingly drunk. Someone had entered the room and started moving around, and Blake squinted at the figure but couldn't make out who it was. After a few minutes, the person came over to Blake and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Are you drunk, Blake?" He looked up. The person's sweet face was framed with black -- or was that just the dark? Was that Jordin?
Blake leaned into the touch. "Just a little, maybe." He reached out and gripped the other person's arm. Whoa, Jordin had some solid arms. Okay, he was cool with that. No secret that Jordin was a solid girl. But these are kinda extra-muscled -- kind of like Chris', he thought, mm. He frowns for a second, thinking, but then he's being gently pushed back, coaxed into laying down. Jordin -- he's pretty sure that's who it is, muscled arms or no -- sits on the side of the bed and pulls the covers up, telling him to get some rest.
Before Blake knew it, words were tumbling out of his mouth. He mumbled something about how he's felt this burning love since their eyes met and that how he couldn't stop thinking about it. He's also pretty sure he said something about how their love might be a forbidden one but he doesn't care if it's them against the world, they'll get through it, and then some more romantic babbling. He's not too sure that he got the point across, but apparently he did, because the next thing that happens is there were a pair of lips attached to his own and oh, this is very good, this was exactly his plan, yes.
When Blake awoke, head mildly throbbing, he looked over and his breath caught. Chris was in his bed. Chris, as in Chris Richardson, who is most definitely not Jordin. Blake pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a huff. Does this make him gay? Bisexual? Okay, there was that one time freshman year of college, but that doesn't count. And that other time at that one club. Wait, wait. This is not the time to have an identity crisis, because the more important question is -- how on earth did he mistake Chris Richardson for Jordin Sparks? Chris, who, if the look on his now awake but still sleepy face was any indication, wanted every word that Blake uttered last night to be absolutely true. He pecked Blake on the lips and asked what he wanted for breakfast.
And so that was how it began a few weeks ago. Chris was his friend, and he felt really, really guilty that he had somehow -- he still hadn't figured out how -- mistaken him for Jordin. So, like, the least he could do was cuddle with him and have some sex that might or might not have been fantastic, not that you need to know, thank you. And he might have let Chris fuck him a few times. Just a few.
As Chris slips his hand into Blake's pants, Blake decides he can no longer live a lie. "Chris, hold on."
Chris pulls back and looks at him. "What?"
"I have to be honest with you, because you're my friend and I love you, dude. I'm straight."
Chris stares at him. Blake fidgets. Chris stares at him some more, and then bursts out laughing.
"I'm serious. I was, like, really drunk that night and I thought you were Jordin. And then I couldn't just tell you that I thought it was Jordin I was having really hot sex with, because that would have been mean. I swear." Blake is very frustrated that Chris doesn't believe him. How hard is it to believe he's straight?
"I should probably be offended at that," Chris says, "but that's a bit impossible at the moment because it's so hilarious. Blake, okay, maybe you thought Jordin a bit attractive, but perfectly straight men don't have sex with other men and enjoy it just out of a sense of obligation."
Huh. He kind of has a point.
"And I'm pretty sure you never said Jordin's name that night, and you said mine a couple times, so, yeah. And if your reactions are any sign, you don't mind what we do. I hate to break it to you, man, but you might just be a little bit gay."
Blake processes this. He supposes that Chris is making sense. Maybe those two -- three? four? -- times did count. Huh. They should have like a guidebook or something for this, it would help out a lot. And maybe he did tend to gasp and moan a lot whenever Chris was kissing down his neck and chest like he was doing now, okay, yes, Blake thought, and it was Chris, not Jordin, and life was pretty great.