through the storm we reach the shore [part 2/7]
part two: can't take my eyes off you
It's Kris's first day off in LA in a terrifying long time. Well, he calls them days off - Lizzie probably calls them mental health breaks. All the concerts they've been doing, playing a couple of older songs, as well as some of the new ones which are definitely going to make the album have been tons of fun, but the combination of the shows, the travelling and the kind of press attention he hasn't gotten in years is definitely bad for his mood. And his sanity.
He doesn't want to know what Lizzie had to do to make room in his schedule for today. Whatever it is, though, it's been worth it so far. Kris tends to measure the quality of a day off by how little work gets done. By those standards, it's been a rousing success. The only thing he's done that might qualify as work is trying to make sense of a melody that's been stuck in his head for ages, and writing music is never work.
(The day it becomes a chore, he might as well quit.)
The doorbell brings him out of idly contemplating the idea of getting some food. Unfortunately, it also requires him to leave the comfort of his (fantastic, amazing) couch, which takes not inconsiderable effort.
Before he can convince himself to get up, his phone goes off.
From: Mr Crankypants
Kris really has to change that soon, even if it never fails to make him grin. Jonathan hasn't been cranky around him for ages, for one. Two, it's kind of petty and immature, especially when accompanied by messages like the one he just got.
Open up. I come in peace w offerings of food.
Okay, there's his motivation to get up.
"Hang on, I just need to - there. Hi," Kris says, and so what if he's beaming like an idiot at the sight of Jonathan nervously scuffing his sneakers against the floor? He's allowed.
"Hi. Okay for me to drop by?"
He looks uncertain of an invitation, which is just dumb. Kris resists the urge to roll his eyes and reaches out to pull him inside instead.
"Course it is. You did say you were going to."
"I said I might and that you shouldn't wait up," Jonathan says quietly, closing the front door with exaggerated care.
Honestly, he's handling this whole thing with too much care. It's sweet, but completely unnecessary. It wasn't like this last time they were here. Of course, last time was twenty minutes after a concert and they were there because his apartment had a door that locked and didn't come with paparazzi. Taking in the surroundings wasn't exactly a priority.
"Don't worry, I can translate from Jonathan to human just fine." Kris wraps his arms around Jonathan as soon as he turns around, pleased when there's no flinch before he's being hugged back, albeit with only one arm, Jonathan's other hand being occupied by a plastic bag holding a familiar-looking container. "Oh, you bought me Thai? Andrew or lucky guess?"
"…Andrew. He laughed at me for asking, just so you know."
Kris snorts, swiping the takeout container and making for the lounge. He doesn't really believe in eating takeout at the dinner table, and the surface of his nice coffee table acquired the burns to prove it before he trained himself into the careful deployment of coasters.
Takeout safely placed on coffee table, he turns to find Jonathan looking around with open curiosity, although his gaze snaps straight back to Kris as soon as Kris gets within touching distance.
"Next time, ask Andrew why he knows where my favourite Thai restaurant is," Kris says with a toothy grin. Turnabout is fair play, after all.
Jonathan isn't smiling, but it's there in his eyes as he looks down at Kris, an almost tangible warmth. "Ah, is there a story?"
Kris bites his lip, idly considering just how far he should go to protect Andrew's hard-won dignity. His train of thought grinds to a screeching halt when Jonathan brushes his thumb over the indent he just left, first gently and then harder. Reflexively Kris's tongue darts out to lick at the callused skin, just that little strip at the tip of his thumb. It's only a tiny point of contact, both of them standing an arm's length apart, but it feels like a whole lot more, especially with the weight of Jonathan's gaze heavy like a rough caress, lingering on his mouth and the hollow of his throat.
It takes him a moment to remember how his limbs are meant to work, but when their lips meet the rest doesn't take any thought at all. He's used to the way they kiss each other hello now, open-mouthed, sweet and just a little dirty, the familiarity of it a satisfying ache in itself. His body knows how to fit itself against Jonathan's, with its sharp planes and angles, the elegant curve of pale skin over his collarbones that always makes Kris want to taste, the light dusting of stubble over his jaw line that makes Kris's lips tingle when he mouths his way up.
There's a reason they've been doing this far too often in places that aren't strictly private. If Kris ever hears another rant from Brian on where he should and shouldn't make out with his boyfriend again it'll be too soon. It's not Kris's fault Jonathan inspires impulse control problems in him.
Anyway, it's not like they've been caught with their pants down in public. A few blurry cameraphone pictures - okay, not that blurry, someone had a really nice phone - don't equal reckless stupidity. He's not trying to hide anything.
(The one thing he did worry about was how it would affect Katy, but she was the one who texted him the day after the pictures came out, asking if he was okay.)
"We should - maybe - " Jonathan says unconvincingly, husky and hesitant like the words are being dragged from his throat.
Kris contemplates dropping to his knees right there.
" - food? Or not, I - "
Right, delicious-smelling food from his favourite Thai place. For which Jonathan has probably earned himself a few weeks worth of snarky comments from Andrew, who is gleefully taking revenge for all the ribbing Jonathan ever gave him about his musical devotion to a guy who won a cheesy reality show. And then some.
It would be a shame to let it go cold.
"Right, food," he says, trying to sound decisive and not quite getting there if Jonathan's expression is any indication. It doesn't help that he has to take a couple of deep breaths before he's ready to step back.
That, and a silent promise to himself to make Jonathan stay the night.
* * *
The food is great, as usual, and Kris spends half of the meal talking to Jonathan about how his album is taking shape, and then haltingly trying to find words to describe the problems he's been having with this melody that maybe wants to be a song.
"Play it for me?" Jonathan says, hesitant in the face of his uncertainty.
It's probably the hesitancy that makes Kris agree. All he's got is a chorus' worth of melody, and even after all these years it still feels a little like showing a teacher unfinished homework to play works in progress for other people, but it's just Jonathan. There's no need to be nervous or anything.
His hands are a little unsteady on the guitar.
Jonathan lets out a soft breath when he's done. "Even just that bit you have now, that sounds amazing. Do you know what it's about yet?"
"I think - hm." It takes Kris a moment to get over the flash of pleasure he feels at the compliment, then somehow it just comes to him. "Has to be something sad and desperate, maybe even a little bit dark. Like trying to salvage a relationship, something like that."
Jonathan raises an eyebrow at him. They haven't talked much about Katy, except for that one time they managed to stumble through a conversation about their respective relationship histories one hotel night, thankfully assisted by a bottle of really nice wine, and that wasn't really about endings.
For someone who writes so many songs about endings, Kris hates talking about them. He's known this about himself for a while, even before Katy pointed it out, one of the last times they fought.
Kris shakes his head hard to dispel the thought. It's not a day for dwelling. Instead, he puts down the guitar, closing the distance between him and Jonathan so he can smile up into his face.
"You should move in with me."
Instantly, Jonathan's shoulder turns into a solid block of tension under his hand. "I - I'm not sure."
That look in his eyes, though, that's not all uncertainty.
Kris lets his smile go a little crooked. "Yeah? Come on, your place is tiny. You know you love my TV."
"I don't come around for your TV. And I think you know that," Jonathan says dryly, the seriousness of his gaze belying his tone.
Kris has to stop himself from fidgeting under the weight of that scrutiny. His free hand balls into a fist of its own accord at his side.
"Maybe. So what are you worried about? Keep your lease, just stay over more. I - "
No.
He cuts off the rest of that sentence, biting his lip against the urge to say more and looking down at his wrinkled sleep pants, until he feels Jonathan's hand against his jaw, gently tilting his face up.
The look in Jonathan's eyes makes Kris want to kiss him breathless.
"What? Tell me."
Kris takes a deep breath. When his voice comes out, it's a too-quiet mumble and he can still barely keep himself from looking away. "I want to see you when I wake up in the morning. Is that a weird thing to say?"
The silence that follows feels very long, and nowhere near comfortable until Kris finds what he's been looking for in Jonathan's steady gaze.
"No. No, it's not," Jonathan finally chuckles, low and amused. "One day, I'll learn to say no to you. Sure you've got room for all my guitars around here?"
"We'll work it out," Kris says, believing every word.
* * *
Kris is seriously considering screening his phone calls. If the ones he's been fielding are any indication, he really doesn't want to know what Lizzie and Lara's voicemail inboxes are like.
It's nice that people are interested - all these years and he's never forgotten to be thankful for that - but less so when what they're interested in isn't really him, when you get down to it.
The timing's not great either. Maybe the extra publicity will make Lara's life easier in the long run, but right now his first priority is deciding which songs are going to end up on the album, which means a lot of exhausting meetings and not much time to do press.
When it first looked like this was going to be a bigger deal than he ever imagined, Kris did consider making more of his own decisions about press, but in the end it was easier to leave things be and let his team keep on doing their thing. They know how it all works, and he trusts that they'll both make the right calls and let him know when he needs to decide something.
He's between meetings, sitting around trying to let the silence soothe his poor ears after an hour of Brian's shouting and staring at his phone willing it not to ring. He'll be up to dealing with it again soon, just…not right now.
Lizzie strides into the room like she's already had her day's allocation of caffeine and then some, checking her step at the sight of him trying to melt into his couch.
"Out interview, yes or no?"
That's one of the many cool things about Lizzie: she knows when he wants a head-up about something, and she doesn't mince words.
"Wow, seriously?" Lizzie doesn't even dignify that with a change in facial expression. Which is fine, he said it to get a moment to think. "Whatever, okay. Just make sure they know what they're getting." Whatever Lara tells people to prepare them for his creative stone-walling when things get too personal, it works. They usually don't push too hard. "Hang on, what did Brian say?"
Lizzie's already halfway out the door and doesn't even look back. "Don't ask questions you don't want answered. Oh, and you owe me."
"Believe me, I know," Kris says ruefully, but she's already gone.
His phone buzzes, making him jump. Thankfully, it's only a text message, and it's someone he never gets tired of hearing from.
How're you holding up?
Everyone keeps asking him that. Mostly he's just been brushing it off with a shrug and a 'fine', but Adam - Adam deserves a little more.
Not too bad. Complicated. Meet up soon?
He gets a reply within the minute.
Getting on a plane tonight. Def. see you when I get back.
Q: When I said I was interviewing you, three of my friends made me promise to ask you this: are you single at the moment?
A: [laughs] No, I'm not. Thanks, though, it's always flattering to be asked.
Q: Are you getting that a lot now?
A: [embarrassed] Heaps more since this year, yeah. I don't mind or anything.
Kris is actually not that oblivious. Sometimes it's just easier to pretend not to notice things. Like when people blatantly hit on him - being in a long-term relationship gave him lots of practice at ignoring that one.
Trouble is, now that he's no longer wearing a wedding ring, people misinterpret things more than they used to. He can't just flirt anymore and have it be a joke, having fun with someone he likes. The expectations are different.
It's not like he's any more available than he was back then - he's not married to Jonathan, but they are in what his PR guys call 'a serious relationship', one that doesn't involve having sex with other people. The last thing they need right now is rumours about infidelity.
He's trying to learn to be more careful. It's…not really working.
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Adam got back from Australia literally three hours ago and he desperately needs a decent nap, but he's not at the point of his career where blowing off Clive Davis would be acceptable quite yet. Even if he really, really wants to.
(Because, let's be honest, who wants to spend New Year's Eve with that scary old bastard?)
Said scary old bastard's impressive guest list regardless of that universal truth just speaks volumes about the industry, and Adam would think that even if he weren't tired and cranky. The main difference is how much effort he has to put into being Adam Lambert, always so charming and hilarious and just the right amount of inappropriate tonight.
He got here late, did a bunch of quick press interviews outside, and barely an hour later even Kara's giving him her concerned face and asking if he wants some air. Which is probably as good a sign as any that he should take a few minutes.
The further he wanders away from all the noise and colour of the party, the more the mansion starts to look like a bigger scale model of the one from Idol, and isn't that scary insight he didn't need into Clive Davis's psyche.
Before he knows it, a few minutes turns into a lot more, and when Adam picks a random guest room to walk into, it's partly to avoid admitting that he could actually be lost. He doesn't actually intend to nap - but that's what happens, suit jacket still on and everything. After all, the bed's comfortable and he's really tired.
Thankfully, somebody interrupts him in the process of falling asleep by opening the door.
"Sorry, didn't realize the room was occupied - oh. Adam?"
Adam sits up straight, resisting the urge to rub at his eyes.
"Kris? What are you doing here?"
It's too dark to see, but Adam's pretty good at recognising that voice. The bedside lamp turns on when he taps it, flooding the room with soft light, and the first thing he sees is Kris beaming at him from the doorway.
"Here, in this room, interrupting your beauty sleep, or here at this horrible party?"
Adam's face decides to arrange itself into one of his silliest grins without consulting his brain. Not that his brain has any serious objections, really. It's Kris. Silly grins are always appropriate.
"Which do you think? Have I ever bitched you out for a rude awakening or ten?"
"No, you just retaliate," Kris says fondly, stopping at the foot of the bed.
Even in the dim light from the lamp, Adam can tell he's been through his stylist's wrangling tonight. There's no way he picked that skinny tie without prompting. He looks good, if freakishly unchanged from the last time Adam saw him, and the time before that, and so on.
(They've probably already had the conversation about the portrait in Kris's basement at some point. After a while, that many in-jokes tend to blur together a bit.)
He's always been the kind of gorgeous that tends to sneak up on a person, not so much smacking anyone in the face with it but slowly getting under your skin, and being all the more effective for it. Adam didn't need months of living in close quarters to know that. He saw it not long after they met, and knew even then that everybody else would too, given a little more time. Fast forward five years, and here they are.
He pats the bed beside him and barely has time to snatch his hand away before Kris launches himself in vaguely the right direction, careless of his expensive tailored suit. Ten seconds of lazy shuffling around later, Kris sits semi-upright, shoulder bumping Adam's while he tries to get comfortable.
He's warm, but not overwhelmingly so - just enough to be comfortable. Adam doesn't even try to resist the temptation to shift closer. It's more like reflex, anyway. "So? You never answered my question."
"Well, you know, couldn't say no to Clive," Kris says dryly. Up close, he looks about half as tired as Adam feels, which means he's probably feeling about the same. Not that a stranger would be able to tell.
Adam makes a face. "The operative word being 'couldn't'. Wait, where's your boy?"
The change that comes over Kris's face is startling. Bright eyes, sly little smile, like he's got a secret he's dying to tell someone about.
"You mean Jonathan? I'm not making him come to parties, he hates industry crap," he says, all exasperated affection.
Adam does want to talk about that, see how he's holding up with both the press attention and his first post-divorce relationship, but that's not the right opening.
"I thought you'd be in Arkansas."
Kris tenses up. Not much, just enough for Adam to feel it.
"I was, for Christmas. Stayed at home for a couple of days, went to see Katy's parents, had Cale, his Katy and the twins over."
There's more. Adam may be out of practice but there are some things he'll always been able to do, and knowing when there's something on Kris's mind is one of them.
"That doesn't sound too bad. What else happened?"
He can more or less guess what the problem is, but Kris has to talk about it first.
"Honestly, it was a little depressing," Kris says slowly. He takes a moment to find the most comfortable spot for his head to rest on Adam's shoulder, careless of ruining his carefully styled hair, before continuing, pleasant little lilt in his voice like he always gets after coming back from Arkansas. "Pretty much all my old friends have kids. And, you know, I guess five, seven years ago I probably would have expected to have a couple by now too."
"Don't lie, you had the exact number you wanted all figured out."
He regrets the words as soon as they're out of his mouth, but Kris just chuckles. "I totally did. That's just not how things have worked out, I guess. Not that I'm complaining - you know what I mean."
Adam nods. It's not just a convenient phrase in this case - he knows exactly what Kris means. They both made the same deal, all those years ago.
"Anyway. What about you? I see even TMZ thinks you won the break-up with that asshole now."
Adam's grin is nasty and he doesn't even care. "Don't ever get on Brad's bad side, that's all I'll say."
Kris chuckles, low and quiet. "I believe it. And with What's-His-Name - couldn't have happened to a nicer guy. Not that I'm knocking your taste. Um. You know what, forget it, I'm putting down the shovel now," capped off with a long-suffering sigh, and - in the spirit of their friendship - Adam pretends he didn't start smirking as soon as Kris started fumbling his words and blushing bright enough for him to see.
The funniest part is that from what he could tell, Kris had liked Sam and is therefore merely doing the commiserating bitchy friend thing out of solidarity.
"That was adorable. How old are you again?" he says, sounding about half as amused and indulgent as he feels, which is still enough for Kris's face to assemble itself into the beginnings of a pout, complete with big, wounded eyes.
"You suck. And not in the fun way."
Adam laughs, startled and pleased, and brushes a quick kiss against Kris's forehead. It works as appeasement, if he needs to excuse it to anybody. Which he doesn't, not for Kris. Never for Kris.
"Thanks, seriously. I appreciate it. Forget about him, though, who cares? The best revenge is living well, isn't that how it goes?"
The fact that he honestly believes that now, with no hint - okay, very little - of schadenfreude about the way things turned out for Sam, is probably the best outcome possible from that mess. Especially given the timing.
Kris lifts his head from Adam's shoulder, gaze serious and focused. The effect is only ruined a little by the fact that his hair is now completely flat on one side.
"Bet going multi-platinum helped."
Adam grins, just a little bit of edge to it. "Oh yeah. Between that and the tour, I haven't had much time to think about anything else."
"That's good - "
"Your hair's a mess, by the way."
Kris tilts his head, all crooked, slow smile and intent gaze. "So fix it for me. Please?"
He's flirting, but so mildly that he probably hasn't noticed himself doing it.
"Someone's creating a monster. You've been spoiled rotten," Adam says, too fondly for it to be an accusation, and threads his fingers through the fluffy mess that was once carefully styled hair. There's not really much he can do, but at least it'll look less like Kris took a quick nap somewhere.
Kris's eyelashes flutter when Adam rubs his scalp, his whole body relaxing against Adam's when he gets all the way down to the sensitive skin at the top of Kris's neck, massaging away the tension there.
"How are you, though, seriously."
The question doesn't make him tense up again, so there's one good sign.
"Honestly? Last time you asked me that, I really had to think about it. But no, I'm good right now. Just - the next person to ask me an inappropriate question about my sexual relationship is going to get an answer, that's all."
Kris rolls his eyes, but the smirk gives him away - Adam would bet good money that a part of him is itching to make somebody regret asking too many questions. In theory, he approves of that kind of impulse. He's kind of the expert. But in practice, for someone with Kris's image - maybe not such a good idea.
"You enjoy freaking people out. That's not nice, Kristopher."
Kris snorts. " - said the pot to the kettle. Come on."
"I don't freak people out for the sake of it," Adam says, quiet and serious.
The distinction is important. Adam's been trying to have this conversation all year, every single interview about his album, why such a different sound this time around and is the concept meant to make some sort of statement and what's with the album art, and he talked and talked but still feels like he never got to the heart of it.
" - neither do I."
Not that Kris has ever needed to have that explained to him. He gets it. But watching it happen to someone else is very different to having it suddenly apply to you.
"What about your fanbase? You don't need to alienate people."
"What about it?" Kris says, and he's not being deliberately obtuse. Just stubborn, which is possibly worse.
"I know what happens when you suddenly become that kind of news, remember?" He says it lightly, almost like it's a joke, and lets his smile comment on the rest.
Kris grins, sharp enough that he definitely caught everything Adam meant. "Yeah, I know. It's done some funny things to my relationship with Christian radio, but you know, win some, lose some," he shrugs, just casual enough to sound convincing. "Anyway, I'm not that big a deal."
It's Adam's turn to roll his eyes. "Oh, come on - "
Kris shakes his head. "You know it's true. The fuss people are making right now, it's not actually about me."
"You're not - do I need to fluff up your self-esteem again?" Adam says with great, long-suffering exasperation. He doesn't mean it, except where he kind of does.
Kris pokes him in the side with his elbow, very deliberately and with great ceremony, snickering all the while. "My self-esteem is fine."
Adam decides to believe him after considering his tone. LA is great at making people hate themselves, but you have to care first. Kris doesn't, at least not in ways they can get at.
"Okay, fine, how is this not about you?"
Kris is silent for a moment, just thinking. Which apparently involves shifting closer until Adam gets the hint and puts his arm around Kris's waist, pulling him in against his side.
"It's more like…what I represent? You know. You've been doing this a lot longer than I have," he murmurs finally, slow like he's weighing up each word.
Adam does know, even though he's never wanted that and still doesn't. It's always been the most frustrating thing about the press attention, because half of them think he represents some kind of breakthrough and needs to act accordingly, and the other half think he's representative of the worst excesses of pop culture or something.
"So I have. That's why you should listen when I tell you to be careful."
"Believe me, I am. Never apologize, never explain. Isn't that the golden rule?"
Adam can't even remember when somebody first said that to him. It was a long, long time ago, and whoever it was, they were dead wrong. He learned that before the end of the first post-Idol year.
"Nope, that's just what everybody wishes they could do. People who actually stick to that tend to be assholes."
Kris laughs, hard enough that Adam can feel him shaking against his chest. "You sound like Jonathan. Ooh, he's going to be confused when I tell him that. You have pretty much nothing in common."
Except we apparently share both a type and extremely compromised judgement when it comes to one particular person.
"How's that going, anyway?" he asks, partly out of genuine curiosity, partly because he wants to see Kris's face light up again.
Also partly so he can do his duty as a friend, although he really doesn't want to right now.
Kris tilts his head back so he can grin at Adam, the expression not unlike a particularly satisfied cat right after it polished off a bowl of cream.
"Um, good? Well, weird. Weird but really, really great," he nods, appropriate descriptive finally arrived at. "And, uh - " Adam raises his eyebrows when Kris ducks his head, colour staining his cheekbones. "I can't wait to start touring."
"No, really," Adam deadpans, biting his lip against the laugh that wants to slip out.
The effort's wasted, because Kris takes one look at his face and thumps his fist against Adam's chest, just hard enough for him to feel it, all the while giggling helplessly. "Shut. Up."
Adam doesn't even bother trying not to laugh this time. When he's composed enough to talk again, though, it's about as serious as he gets. "I'm just glad you're doing well."
"I am," Kris says, barely more than a whisper against the fabric of Adam's suit jacket. "Despite everything, maybe, but yeah."
Adam takes a deep breath. Sometimes, being a good friend sucks. "Kris, can I say something? As your friend."
"'Course."
Adam's thankful he has the option of saying this to the top of Kris's head. If he had to do it while staring at the happiness animating Kris's face right now, he might not be able to go through with it.
"You know, if this doesn't work out - " when it doesn't work out, he really means, but even Kris doesn't need that much honesty from him, " - you're going to end up with a dysfunctional band."
Kris looks down at his hands, still balled up into loose fists. "I - I'll risk it. Thanks for, you know, worrying about me."
"Anytime," Adam says, relieved, and meaning it just as much as he ever did.
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People still don't get how Kris can be friends with Adam. It's not just the part where they have completely different backgrounds, although a lot of it is that. In terms of temperament, personality, favourite past-times, they couldn't be more different.
Or at least that's how it looks from the outside, if you're not paying attention. For Kris, being friends with Adam isn't something he's ever had to think about. One of the best things about their relationship - even back in the Idol days when they had just met - was how easy it was, how both of them seemed to instinctively know where the boundaries were and how far to push in any given situation, when to play it up for the masses and when to dial it down. Whenever things got tricky, they dealt with it together. Like that silly flap over Adam's off-handed comment about Kris in Rolling Stone, which still makes Kris laugh when he thinks about it, even though it feels like something that happened half a lifetime ago.
'Cute' is such a non-threatening word, like he was a wide-eyed 16-year-old fresh out of Arkansas. Like 'bland' is lurking right around the corner. Not that he minds being that, most of the time. It works for him. But he never forgets what it actually does and doesn't mean.
Kris can find a friend attractive without wanting to be in a relationship with them. Same goes for Adam. That's why it was never a big deal.
It didn't matter back then, and it doesn't matter now. He could talk about his 'mancrush' all day, and not scratch the surface of what's really going on. A meaningless little crush is nothing next to how he's always felt about Adam, as soon as they knew each other well enough, and he knows Adam would say the same thing.
When he told the media after Idol that they loved each other - that was real. That's what counts.
It's nice to be reminded of that, every now and then. Kris sits up straighter when the fireworks start going off outside, the digital clock in their hiding spot in the middle of Clive Davis's scary giant mansion ticking over to a new day.
Adam stirs, like he's thinking about getting up but doesn't really want to. "We should rejoin civilization at some point."
"Nah, wait til they start looking for us," Kris shrugs. He's warm and comfortable and he's not into the idea of moving any time soon.
"That should start some interesting rumours," Adam grumbles half-heartedly, the effect more or less cancelled out by the fact that his hand is still resting on Kris's hip.
Kris chuckles, stretching up just far enough to brush a sloppy kiss against the corner of Adam's mouth before settling back down.
"Happy new year."
part three: release me
It's Kris's first day off in LA in a terrifying long time. Well, he calls them days off - Lizzie probably calls them mental health breaks. All the concerts they've been doing, playing a couple of older songs, as well as some of the new ones which are definitely going to make the album have been tons of fun, but the combination of the shows, the travelling and the kind of press attention he hasn't gotten in years is definitely bad for his mood. And his sanity.
He doesn't want to know what Lizzie had to do to make room in his schedule for today. Whatever it is, though, it's been worth it so far. Kris tends to measure the quality of a day off by how little work gets done. By those standards, it's been a rousing success. The only thing he's done that might qualify as work is trying to make sense of a melody that's been stuck in his head for ages, and writing music is never work.
(The day it becomes a chore, he might as well quit.)
The doorbell brings him out of idly contemplating the idea of getting some food. Unfortunately, it also requires him to leave the comfort of his (fantastic, amazing) couch, which takes not inconsiderable effort.
Before he can convince himself to get up, his phone goes off.
From: Mr Crankypants
Kris really has to change that soon, even if it never fails to make him grin. Jonathan hasn't been cranky around him for ages, for one. Two, it's kind of petty and immature, especially when accompanied by messages like the one he just got.
Open up. I come in peace w offerings of food.
Okay, there's his motivation to get up.
"Hang on, I just need to - there. Hi," Kris says, and so what if he's beaming like an idiot at the sight of Jonathan nervously scuffing his sneakers against the floor? He's allowed.
"Hi. Okay for me to drop by?"
He looks uncertain of an invitation, which is just dumb. Kris resists the urge to roll his eyes and reaches out to pull him inside instead.
"Course it is. You did say you were going to."
"I said I might and that you shouldn't wait up," Jonathan says quietly, closing the front door with exaggerated care.
Honestly, he's handling this whole thing with too much care. It's sweet, but completely unnecessary. It wasn't like this last time they were here. Of course, last time was twenty minutes after a concert and they were there because his apartment had a door that locked and didn't come with paparazzi. Taking in the surroundings wasn't exactly a priority.
"Don't worry, I can translate from Jonathan to human just fine." Kris wraps his arms around Jonathan as soon as he turns around, pleased when there's no flinch before he's being hugged back, albeit with only one arm, Jonathan's other hand being occupied by a plastic bag holding a familiar-looking container. "Oh, you bought me Thai? Andrew or lucky guess?"
"…Andrew. He laughed at me for asking, just so you know."
Kris snorts, swiping the takeout container and making for the lounge. He doesn't really believe in eating takeout at the dinner table, and the surface of his nice coffee table acquired the burns to prove it before he trained himself into the careful deployment of coasters.
Takeout safely placed on coffee table, he turns to find Jonathan looking around with open curiosity, although his gaze snaps straight back to Kris as soon as Kris gets within touching distance.
"Next time, ask Andrew why he knows where my favourite Thai restaurant is," Kris says with a toothy grin. Turnabout is fair play, after all.
Jonathan isn't smiling, but it's there in his eyes as he looks down at Kris, an almost tangible warmth. "Ah, is there a story?"
Kris bites his lip, idly considering just how far he should go to protect Andrew's hard-won dignity. His train of thought grinds to a screeching halt when Jonathan brushes his thumb over the indent he just left, first gently and then harder. Reflexively Kris's tongue darts out to lick at the callused skin, just that little strip at the tip of his thumb. It's only a tiny point of contact, both of them standing an arm's length apart, but it feels like a whole lot more, especially with the weight of Jonathan's gaze heavy like a rough caress, lingering on his mouth and the hollow of his throat.
It takes him a moment to remember how his limbs are meant to work, but when their lips meet the rest doesn't take any thought at all. He's used to the way they kiss each other hello now, open-mouthed, sweet and just a little dirty, the familiarity of it a satisfying ache in itself. His body knows how to fit itself against Jonathan's, with its sharp planes and angles, the elegant curve of pale skin over his collarbones that always makes Kris want to taste, the light dusting of stubble over his jaw line that makes Kris's lips tingle when he mouths his way up.
There's a reason they've been doing this far too often in places that aren't strictly private. If Kris ever hears another rant from Brian on where he should and shouldn't make out with his boyfriend again it'll be too soon. It's not Kris's fault Jonathan inspires impulse control problems in him.
Anyway, it's not like they've been caught with their pants down in public. A few blurry cameraphone pictures - okay, not that blurry, someone had a really nice phone - don't equal reckless stupidity. He's not trying to hide anything.
(The one thing he did worry about was how it would affect Katy, but she was the one who texted him the day after the pictures came out, asking if he was okay.)
"We should - maybe - " Jonathan says unconvincingly, husky and hesitant like the words are being dragged from his throat.
Kris contemplates dropping to his knees right there.
" - food? Or not, I - "
Right, delicious-smelling food from his favourite Thai place. For which Jonathan has probably earned himself a few weeks worth of snarky comments from Andrew, who is gleefully taking revenge for all the ribbing Jonathan ever gave him about his musical devotion to a guy who won a cheesy reality show. And then some.
It would be a shame to let it go cold.
"Right, food," he says, trying to sound decisive and not quite getting there if Jonathan's expression is any indication. It doesn't help that he has to take a couple of deep breaths before he's ready to step back.
That, and a silent promise to himself to make Jonathan stay the night.
* * *
The food is great, as usual, and Kris spends half of the meal talking to Jonathan about how his album is taking shape, and then haltingly trying to find words to describe the problems he's been having with this melody that maybe wants to be a song.
"Play it for me?" Jonathan says, hesitant in the face of his uncertainty.
It's probably the hesitancy that makes Kris agree. All he's got is a chorus' worth of melody, and even after all these years it still feels a little like showing a teacher unfinished homework to play works in progress for other people, but it's just Jonathan. There's no need to be nervous or anything.
His hands are a little unsteady on the guitar.
Jonathan lets out a soft breath when he's done. "Even just that bit you have now, that sounds amazing. Do you know what it's about yet?"
"I think - hm." It takes Kris a moment to get over the flash of pleasure he feels at the compliment, then somehow it just comes to him. "Has to be something sad and desperate, maybe even a little bit dark. Like trying to salvage a relationship, something like that."
Jonathan raises an eyebrow at him. They haven't talked much about Katy, except for that one time they managed to stumble through a conversation about their respective relationship histories one hotel night, thankfully assisted by a bottle of really nice wine, and that wasn't really about endings.
For someone who writes so many songs about endings, Kris hates talking about them. He's known this about himself for a while, even before Katy pointed it out, one of the last times they fought.
Kris shakes his head hard to dispel the thought. It's not a day for dwelling. Instead, he puts down the guitar, closing the distance between him and Jonathan so he can smile up into his face.
"You should move in with me."
Instantly, Jonathan's shoulder turns into a solid block of tension under his hand. "I - I'm not sure."
That look in his eyes, though, that's not all uncertainty.
Kris lets his smile go a little crooked. "Yeah? Come on, your place is tiny. You know you love my TV."
"I don't come around for your TV. And I think you know that," Jonathan says dryly, the seriousness of his gaze belying his tone.
Kris has to stop himself from fidgeting under the weight of that scrutiny. His free hand balls into a fist of its own accord at his side.
"Maybe. So what are you worried about? Keep your lease, just stay over more. I - "
No.
He cuts off the rest of that sentence, biting his lip against the urge to say more and looking down at his wrinkled sleep pants, until he feels Jonathan's hand against his jaw, gently tilting his face up.
The look in Jonathan's eyes makes Kris want to kiss him breathless.
"What? Tell me."
Kris takes a deep breath. When his voice comes out, it's a too-quiet mumble and he can still barely keep himself from looking away. "I want to see you when I wake up in the morning. Is that a weird thing to say?"
The silence that follows feels very long, and nowhere near comfortable until Kris finds what he's been looking for in Jonathan's steady gaze.
"No. No, it's not," Jonathan finally chuckles, low and amused. "One day, I'll learn to say no to you. Sure you've got room for all my guitars around here?"
"We'll work it out," Kris says, believing every word.
* * *
Kris is seriously considering screening his phone calls. If the ones he's been fielding are any indication, he really doesn't want to know what Lizzie and Lara's voicemail inboxes are like.
It's nice that people are interested - all these years and he's never forgotten to be thankful for that - but less so when what they're interested in isn't really him, when you get down to it.
The timing's not great either. Maybe the extra publicity will make Lara's life easier in the long run, but right now his first priority is deciding which songs are going to end up on the album, which means a lot of exhausting meetings and not much time to do press.
When it first looked like this was going to be a bigger deal than he ever imagined, Kris did consider making more of his own decisions about press, but in the end it was easier to leave things be and let his team keep on doing their thing. They know how it all works, and he trusts that they'll both make the right calls and let him know when he needs to decide something.
He's between meetings, sitting around trying to let the silence soothe his poor ears after an hour of Brian's shouting and staring at his phone willing it not to ring. He'll be up to dealing with it again soon, just…not right now.
Lizzie strides into the room like she's already had her day's allocation of caffeine and then some, checking her step at the sight of him trying to melt into his couch.
"Out interview, yes or no?"
That's one of the many cool things about Lizzie: she knows when he wants a head-up about something, and she doesn't mince words.
"Wow, seriously?" Lizzie doesn't even dignify that with a change in facial expression. Which is fine, he said it to get a moment to think. "Whatever, okay. Just make sure they know what they're getting." Whatever Lara tells people to prepare them for his creative stone-walling when things get too personal, it works. They usually don't push too hard. "Hang on, what did Brian say?"
Lizzie's already halfway out the door and doesn't even look back. "Don't ask questions you don't want answered. Oh, and you owe me."
"Believe me, I know," Kris says ruefully, but she's already gone.
His phone buzzes, making him jump. Thankfully, it's only a text message, and it's someone he never gets tired of hearing from.
How're you holding up?
Everyone keeps asking him that. Mostly he's just been brushing it off with a shrug and a 'fine', but Adam - Adam deserves a little more.
Not too bad. Complicated. Meet up soon?
He gets a reply within the minute.
Getting on a plane tonight. Def. see you when I get back.
Q: When I said I was interviewing you, three of my friends made me promise to ask you this: are you single at the moment?
A: [laughs] No, I'm not. Thanks, though, it's always flattering to be asked.
Q: Are you getting that a lot now?
A: [embarrassed] Heaps more since this year, yeah. I don't mind or anything.
Kris is actually not that oblivious. Sometimes it's just easier to pretend not to notice things. Like when people blatantly hit on him - being in a long-term relationship gave him lots of practice at ignoring that one.
Trouble is, now that he's no longer wearing a wedding ring, people misinterpret things more than they used to. He can't just flirt anymore and have it be a joke, having fun with someone he likes. The expectations are different.
It's not like he's any more available than he was back then - he's not married to Jonathan, but they are in what his PR guys call 'a serious relationship', one that doesn't involve having sex with other people. The last thing they need right now is rumours about infidelity.
He's trying to learn to be more careful. It's…not really working.
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Adam got back from Australia literally three hours ago and he desperately needs a decent nap, but he's not at the point of his career where blowing off Clive Davis would be acceptable quite yet. Even if he really, really wants to.
(Because, let's be honest, who wants to spend New Year's Eve with that scary old bastard?)
Said scary old bastard's impressive guest list regardless of that universal truth just speaks volumes about the industry, and Adam would think that even if he weren't tired and cranky. The main difference is how much effort he has to put into being Adam Lambert, always so charming and hilarious and just the right amount of inappropriate tonight.
He got here late, did a bunch of quick press interviews outside, and barely an hour later even Kara's giving him her concerned face and asking if he wants some air. Which is probably as good a sign as any that he should take a few minutes.
The further he wanders away from all the noise and colour of the party, the more the mansion starts to look like a bigger scale model of the one from Idol, and isn't that scary insight he didn't need into Clive Davis's psyche.
Before he knows it, a few minutes turns into a lot more, and when Adam picks a random guest room to walk into, it's partly to avoid admitting that he could actually be lost. He doesn't actually intend to nap - but that's what happens, suit jacket still on and everything. After all, the bed's comfortable and he's really tired.
Thankfully, somebody interrupts him in the process of falling asleep by opening the door.
"Sorry, didn't realize the room was occupied - oh. Adam?"
Adam sits up straight, resisting the urge to rub at his eyes.
"Kris? What are you doing here?"
It's too dark to see, but Adam's pretty good at recognising that voice. The bedside lamp turns on when he taps it, flooding the room with soft light, and the first thing he sees is Kris beaming at him from the doorway.
"Here, in this room, interrupting your beauty sleep, or here at this horrible party?"
Adam's face decides to arrange itself into one of his silliest grins without consulting his brain. Not that his brain has any serious objections, really. It's Kris. Silly grins are always appropriate.
"Which do you think? Have I ever bitched you out for a rude awakening or ten?"
"No, you just retaliate," Kris says fondly, stopping at the foot of the bed.
Even in the dim light from the lamp, Adam can tell he's been through his stylist's wrangling tonight. There's no way he picked that skinny tie without prompting. He looks good, if freakishly unchanged from the last time Adam saw him, and the time before that, and so on.
(They've probably already had the conversation about the portrait in Kris's basement at some point. After a while, that many in-jokes tend to blur together a bit.)
He's always been the kind of gorgeous that tends to sneak up on a person, not so much smacking anyone in the face with it but slowly getting under your skin, and being all the more effective for it. Adam didn't need months of living in close quarters to know that. He saw it not long after they met, and knew even then that everybody else would too, given a little more time. Fast forward five years, and here they are.
He pats the bed beside him and barely has time to snatch his hand away before Kris launches himself in vaguely the right direction, careless of his expensive tailored suit. Ten seconds of lazy shuffling around later, Kris sits semi-upright, shoulder bumping Adam's while he tries to get comfortable.
He's warm, but not overwhelmingly so - just enough to be comfortable. Adam doesn't even try to resist the temptation to shift closer. It's more like reflex, anyway. "So? You never answered my question."
"Well, you know, couldn't say no to Clive," Kris says dryly. Up close, he looks about half as tired as Adam feels, which means he's probably feeling about the same. Not that a stranger would be able to tell.
Adam makes a face. "The operative word being 'couldn't'. Wait, where's your boy?"
The change that comes over Kris's face is startling. Bright eyes, sly little smile, like he's got a secret he's dying to tell someone about.
"You mean Jonathan? I'm not making him come to parties, he hates industry crap," he says, all exasperated affection.
Adam does want to talk about that, see how he's holding up with both the press attention and his first post-divorce relationship, but that's not the right opening.
"I thought you'd be in Arkansas."
Kris tenses up. Not much, just enough for Adam to feel it.
"I was, for Christmas. Stayed at home for a couple of days, went to see Katy's parents, had Cale, his Katy and the twins over."
There's more. Adam may be out of practice but there are some things he'll always been able to do, and knowing when there's something on Kris's mind is one of them.
"That doesn't sound too bad. What else happened?"
He can more or less guess what the problem is, but Kris has to talk about it first.
"Honestly, it was a little depressing," Kris says slowly. He takes a moment to find the most comfortable spot for his head to rest on Adam's shoulder, careless of ruining his carefully styled hair, before continuing, pleasant little lilt in his voice like he always gets after coming back from Arkansas. "Pretty much all my old friends have kids. And, you know, I guess five, seven years ago I probably would have expected to have a couple by now too."
"Don't lie, you had the exact number you wanted all figured out."
He regrets the words as soon as they're out of his mouth, but Kris just chuckles. "I totally did. That's just not how things have worked out, I guess. Not that I'm complaining - you know what I mean."
Adam nods. It's not just a convenient phrase in this case - he knows exactly what Kris means. They both made the same deal, all those years ago.
"Anyway. What about you? I see even TMZ thinks you won the break-up with that asshole now."
Adam's grin is nasty and he doesn't even care. "Don't ever get on Brad's bad side, that's all I'll say."
Kris chuckles, low and quiet. "I believe it. And with What's-His-Name - couldn't have happened to a nicer guy. Not that I'm knocking your taste. Um. You know what, forget it, I'm putting down the shovel now," capped off with a long-suffering sigh, and - in the spirit of their friendship - Adam pretends he didn't start smirking as soon as Kris started fumbling his words and blushing bright enough for him to see.
The funniest part is that from what he could tell, Kris had liked Sam and is therefore merely doing the commiserating bitchy friend thing out of solidarity.
"That was adorable. How old are you again?" he says, sounding about half as amused and indulgent as he feels, which is still enough for Kris's face to assemble itself into the beginnings of a pout, complete with big, wounded eyes.
"You suck. And not in the fun way."
Adam laughs, startled and pleased, and brushes a quick kiss against Kris's forehead. It works as appeasement, if he needs to excuse it to anybody. Which he doesn't, not for Kris. Never for Kris.
"Thanks, seriously. I appreciate it. Forget about him, though, who cares? The best revenge is living well, isn't that how it goes?"
The fact that he honestly believes that now, with no hint - okay, very little - of schadenfreude about the way things turned out for Sam, is probably the best outcome possible from that mess. Especially given the timing.
Kris lifts his head from Adam's shoulder, gaze serious and focused. The effect is only ruined a little by the fact that his hair is now completely flat on one side.
"Bet going multi-platinum helped."
Adam grins, just a little bit of edge to it. "Oh yeah. Between that and the tour, I haven't had much time to think about anything else."
"That's good - "
"Your hair's a mess, by the way."
Kris tilts his head, all crooked, slow smile and intent gaze. "So fix it for me. Please?"
He's flirting, but so mildly that he probably hasn't noticed himself doing it.
"Someone's creating a monster. You've been spoiled rotten," Adam says, too fondly for it to be an accusation, and threads his fingers through the fluffy mess that was once carefully styled hair. There's not really much he can do, but at least it'll look less like Kris took a quick nap somewhere.
Kris's eyelashes flutter when Adam rubs his scalp, his whole body relaxing against Adam's when he gets all the way down to the sensitive skin at the top of Kris's neck, massaging away the tension there.
"How are you, though, seriously."
The question doesn't make him tense up again, so there's one good sign.
"Honestly? Last time you asked me that, I really had to think about it. But no, I'm good right now. Just - the next person to ask me an inappropriate question about my sexual relationship is going to get an answer, that's all."
Kris rolls his eyes, but the smirk gives him away - Adam would bet good money that a part of him is itching to make somebody regret asking too many questions. In theory, he approves of that kind of impulse. He's kind of the expert. But in practice, for someone with Kris's image - maybe not such a good idea.
"You enjoy freaking people out. That's not nice, Kristopher."
Kris snorts. " - said the pot to the kettle. Come on."
"I don't freak people out for the sake of it," Adam says, quiet and serious.
The distinction is important. Adam's been trying to have this conversation all year, every single interview about his album, why such a different sound this time around and is the concept meant to make some sort of statement and what's with the album art, and he talked and talked but still feels like he never got to the heart of it.
" - neither do I."
Not that Kris has ever needed to have that explained to him. He gets it. But watching it happen to someone else is very different to having it suddenly apply to you.
"What about your fanbase? You don't need to alienate people."
"What about it?" Kris says, and he's not being deliberately obtuse. Just stubborn, which is possibly worse.
"I know what happens when you suddenly become that kind of news, remember?" He says it lightly, almost like it's a joke, and lets his smile comment on the rest.
Kris grins, sharp enough that he definitely caught everything Adam meant. "Yeah, I know. It's done some funny things to my relationship with Christian radio, but you know, win some, lose some," he shrugs, just casual enough to sound convincing. "Anyway, I'm not that big a deal."
It's Adam's turn to roll his eyes. "Oh, come on - "
Kris shakes his head. "You know it's true. The fuss people are making right now, it's not actually about me."
"You're not - do I need to fluff up your self-esteem again?" Adam says with great, long-suffering exasperation. He doesn't mean it, except where he kind of does.
Kris pokes him in the side with his elbow, very deliberately and with great ceremony, snickering all the while. "My self-esteem is fine."
Adam decides to believe him after considering his tone. LA is great at making people hate themselves, but you have to care first. Kris doesn't, at least not in ways they can get at.
"Okay, fine, how is this not about you?"
Kris is silent for a moment, just thinking. Which apparently involves shifting closer until Adam gets the hint and puts his arm around Kris's waist, pulling him in against his side.
"It's more like…what I represent? You know. You've been doing this a lot longer than I have," he murmurs finally, slow like he's weighing up each word.
Adam does know, even though he's never wanted that and still doesn't. It's always been the most frustrating thing about the press attention, because half of them think he represents some kind of breakthrough and needs to act accordingly, and the other half think he's representative of the worst excesses of pop culture or something.
"So I have. That's why you should listen when I tell you to be careful."
"Believe me, I am. Never apologize, never explain. Isn't that the golden rule?"
Adam can't even remember when somebody first said that to him. It was a long, long time ago, and whoever it was, they were dead wrong. He learned that before the end of the first post-Idol year.
"Nope, that's just what everybody wishes they could do. People who actually stick to that tend to be assholes."
Kris laughs, hard enough that Adam can feel him shaking against his chest. "You sound like Jonathan. Ooh, he's going to be confused when I tell him that. You have pretty much nothing in common."
Except we apparently share both a type and extremely compromised judgement when it comes to one particular person.
"How's that going, anyway?" he asks, partly out of genuine curiosity, partly because he wants to see Kris's face light up again.
Also partly so he can do his duty as a friend, although he really doesn't want to right now.
Kris tilts his head back so he can grin at Adam, the expression not unlike a particularly satisfied cat right after it polished off a bowl of cream.
"Um, good? Well, weird. Weird but really, really great," he nods, appropriate descriptive finally arrived at. "And, uh - " Adam raises his eyebrows when Kris ducks his head, colour staining his cheekbones. "I can't wait to start touring."
"No, really," Adam deadpans, biting his lip against the laugh that wants to slip out.
The effort's wasted, because Kris takes one look at his face and thumps his fist against Adam's chest, just hard enough for him to feel it, all the while giggling helplessly. "Shut. Up."
Adam doesn't even bother trying not to laugh this time. When he's composed enough to talk again, though, it's about as serious as he gets. "I'm just glad you're doing well."
"I am," Kris says, barely more than a whisper against the fabric of Adam's suit jacket. "Despite everything, maybe, but yeah."
Adam takes a deep breath. Sometimes, being a good friend sucks. "Kris, can I say something? As your friend."
"'Course."
Adam's thankful he has the option of saying this to the top of Kris's head. If he had to do it while staring at the happiness animating Kris's face right now, he might not be able to go through with it.
"You know, if this doesn't work out - " when it doesn't work out, he really means, but even Kris doesn't need that much honesty from him, " - you're going to end up with a dysfunctional band."
Kris looks down at his hands, still balled up into loose fists. "I - I'll risk it. Thanks for, you know, worrying about me."
"Anytime," Adam says, relieved, and meaning it just as much as he ever did.
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People still don't get how Kris can be friends with Adam. It's not just the part where they have completely different backgrounds, although a lot of it is that. In terms of temperament, personality, favourite past-times, they couldn't be more different.
Or at least that's how it looks from the outside, if you're not paying attention. For Kris, being friends with Adam isn't something he's ever had to think about. One of the best things about their relationship - even back in the Idol days when they had just met - was how easy it was, how both of them seemed to instinctively know where the boundaries were and how far to push in any given situation, when to play it up for the masses and when to dial it down. Whenever things got tricky, they dealt with it together. Like that silly flap over Adam's off-handed comment about Kris in Rolling Stone, which still makes Kris laugh when he thinks about it, even though it feels like something that happened half a lifetime ago.
'Cute' is such a non-threatening word, like he was a wide-eyed 16-year-old fresh out of Arkansas. Like 'bland' is lurking right around the corner. Not that he minds being that, most of the time. It works for him. But he never forgets what it actually does and doesn't mean.
Kris can find a friend attractive without wanting to be in a relationship with them. Same goes for Adam. That's why it was never a big deal.
It didn't matter back then, and it doesn't matter now. He could talk about his 'mancrush' all day, and not scratch the surface of what's really going on. A meaningless little crush is nothing next to how he's always felt about Adam, as soon as they knew each other well enough, and he knows Adam would say the same thing.
When he told the media after Idol that they loved each other - that was real. That's what counts.
It's nice to be reminded of that, every now and then. Kris sits up straighter when the fireworks start going off outside, the digital clock in their hiding spot in the middle of Clive Davis's scary giant mansion ticking over to a new day.
Adam stirs, like he's thinking about getting up but doesn't really want to. "We should rejoin civilization at some point."
"Nah, wait til they start looking for us," Kris shrugs. He's warm and comfortable and he's not into the idea of moving any time soon.
"That should start some interesting rumours," Adam grumbles half-heartedly, the effect more or less cancelled out by the fact that his hand is still resting on Kris's hip.
Kris chuckles, stretching up just far enough to brush a sloppy kiss against the corner of Adam's mouth before settling back down.
"Happy new year."
part three: release me