As good as you get
Title: As good as you get
Pairing: Adam/Kris (Adam/Drake, Kris/Katy)
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This is a complete work of fiction, no disrespect intended. If you are in any way affiliated with these people, please for the love of Pete do not read this. Thank you.
Notes: For maleyka on her birthday. My life would be much less joyful without you, my love. A sincere thank you to disarm_d for looking this over and working her magic, and to cupiscent for being my second set of eyes, even when sparkly blokes are involved.
The problem was, really, Kris Allen was a tease.
Adam held out his hand as soon as he heard Kris talking on the phone, in the familiar warm rise-and-fall cadence that meant it was Katy on the other end of the line. Kris looked at him perplexed, and Adam snapped his fingers twice in the unmistakable sign for gimme. Kris said, “Hang on, I think Adam wants to talk,” with more twang in his voice than he ever had around the rest of them. Adam gave him an approving smile for doing as he was told and put the phone to his ear.
“Your husband is a tease,” he informed Katy, ignoring Kris’ immediate protest.
Not just a minor one, either. Kris wasn’t the sort of tease who left his shirt open down the front because he knew you’d see the flash of bare skin and want, but not be able to have. No, he was the sort that did that without noticing or considering the effect it had on you, and then went on Twitter to inform everyone in America that he was taking you to bed, and by the way, they would be discussing who topped.
It was equal parts endearing and exasperating how Kris still failed to realize that in the event of such an occurrence, Adam would - unequivocally - be on top.
Katy’s voice on the phone was just like Kris’, warm with smiling. “You think I don’t already know this?”
The problem was, all right, the problem was that Kris was a tease, but it was also that Adam was a top, and every time Kris pulled one of his endearingly exasperating stunts at an incredibly inappropriate time, Adam had to count slowly to three and tamp down hard on the part of him that instinctively rose up with the sole desire to make Kris behave.
Kris wasn’t his boy. Kris was just being Kris. No matter how much Kris-being-Kris smacked of Brad-pushing-Adam’s-buttons, Adam still didn’t have any right to put him in line.
“The next time it happens, I may retaliate,” he warned, because she had a right to know, and because maybe Adam didn’t have a right to keep Kris in line, but Katy certainly did. And could.
Drake thought it was hilarious. This was probably because anytime Kris went out in front of cameras and said something Adam instantly regretted, Drake could wind him up later by pulling the same shit and end up eight kinds of well-fucked for it.
“Send me pictures,” Katy said, and he rolled his eyes because they deserved each other.
He passed the phone back to Kris. Kris didn’t look particularly worried. He looked rather proud and pleased that his wife and his best friend were getting on so well.
“I didn’t do anything!” Kris insisted into the phone as he wandered back out of the lounge, and Adam hit himself in the face with a throw pillow.
*
The other problem, which soon became apparent, was that as much as Kris teased, he couldn’t recognize the same thing coming back at him if it smacked him in the head wearing lace bikini briefs.
Adam started small, started subtle. The last thing he needed, and the reason he was always so careful, was a gossip headline stating how he was out to convert Kris. Kris could pull shit and it was cute, it was friendly, it was joking around. If Adam did it, he’d come off looking like a sexual predator. Probably one with a fetish for perverting fresh-faced - and married - straight boys.
Adam had a lot of fetishes, but that wasn’t one of them.
“I think the show’s going to be great,” he told the reporter one day when they were doing promo press before a show. “I really appreciate all of my fans coming out to support me, and I’m flattered and humbled to have my own cheering section.” He moved automatically when he sensed Kris hovering, pulling him down into the frame of the video camera and wrapping an arm around him, fingertips dangling suggestively just over Kris’ collar bone. “Everyone should stay for my boy Kris’ set, too. It’ll be worth it.” He winked at the camera, and Kris grinned obliviously.
They shook hands with the reporter and packed it up, and Adam waited for Kris to come give him a hard time about saying that in an interview. Kris didn’t, though. Not even when they watched the interview on one of the fan sites when it went up, seeing Adam’s head bent towards Kris and his eyelids half-lowered, sending a smoky look out at the camera.
The new problem, clearly, was that Kris picked up on subtlety about as well as an elephant.
Kris might not have gotten the subtext, but everyone else Adam knew heard it loud and clear. “Should I be worried?” Drake asked, full of amusement, when Adam had crashed into his bunk and cradled the phone to his ear, grateful for a quiet moment alone.
“No,” Adam said immediately, hastening to reassure, and then heard Drake laughing on the other end and added, “Asshole. I’m trying to get him back for all of the Twitter shit.”
“He didn’t get it, did he?” Drake asked, unrepentant. “He doesn’t even know what a flogger looks like, baby, he’s never going to recognize S&M subculture slang.”
Adam sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I’ll think of something,” he promised. “Let’s talk about something else. I miss you.”
“Miss you too,” Drake said, soft around the edges. Adam curled up around the phone, protecting the two of them from the rest of the world for a few minutes before life intruded again. “Hey,” Drake said. “You really want to get him back?”
Drake had a thoroughly devious mind when he chose to employ it. Adam was almost - almost - afraid to ask. “What are you thinking?”
“He’s in the bunk under yours, right?” Drake said, purring a little. “How do you feel about a little creative phone sex?”
Adam blinked, admiring and horrified at the same time, and laughed into the receiver. “You’re evil,” he said. “There are so many ways this could go wrong.”
“You’re going to do it anyway, though, right?” Drake asked, and just imagining the two of them faking ridiculously over-the-top phone sex for an audience of one had Adam grinning hard enough that his cheeks hurt, the weight of the tour slowly lifting off his shoulders.
“No promises,” he told Drake, but he definitely didn’t hang up.
*
Adam squeezed the back of Kris’ neck on the red carpet at an event - clear top behavior, he was practically peeing all over Kris to mark his territory, on camera - and Kris just sighed in apparent contentment that he was getting a massage. Adam ordered for him at a PR dinner and Kris merely thanked him for remembering to get extra onions. Adam told a reporter not only that Kris was more of a cat person, but also that doggy-style wasn’t his favorite position, and Kris nodded solemnly in agreement and said, “It’s true.”
The others on tour were starting to give him funny looks. Drake sent him flowers at a venue with a note attached begging Adam to take him back. Neil informed him with easily-apparent glee that the amount of fanfiction in which Adam spent his time pining into illness over Kris, only to be nursed back to health with sex and cuddles, had doubled in the last week.
pickng out wedding presnts, Neil’s latest text informed him. u think kris wants an xbox?
hate u Adam sent back, hoping that the vehemence with which he’d stabbed the keys as he typed somehow translated in digital.
Kris went down on his knees in front of Adam and several thousand other people, did extremely suggestive things with his microphone, and licked his lips. The online communities exploded in high-res and all-caps before they even made it off the stage at the end of the night.
Adam stole his phone.
He snuck away backstage because as soon as Kris came out of the shower, he’d be missing it, so Adam didn’t have a lot of time. He waited impatiently through the first few rings, hoping it didn’t go to voicemail, and then realized that this was Kris’ phone, Kris’ name would come up on the caller ID, and there was every chance that Katy would answer with something neither of them really wanted him to hear.
“Adam, Adam, Adam, Adam,” he chanted, and as soon as he heard the click of the line being picked up, he said in a rush, “It’s Adam, I’m on Kris’ phone, hi.”
There was a brief pause, and then Katy’s voice said, “Hi, Adam.”
“If you don’t do something about him soon, I won’t be responsible,” he told her, and tried not to start whining when she laughed in his ear.
“You’re not a youngest child, are you?” she asked.
“No,” he answered. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“He wants your attention,” Katy said, sounding like she didn’t think she should have to explain this to him. “There’s one way he knows of always getting it.”
“He has my attention,” Adam replied, mystified. “Anytime he wants it.”
“He wants more of it,” Katy said, simple and sweet.
Adam thought that one over. “Did he do this to you?” he asked finally.
She laughed, clear as bells. “Worse,” she answered. “Much worse. Trust me. Just stick to your guns.”
Adam muttered something about his guns and how Kris was likely to end up on the wrong end of them, but Katy just laughed again and hung up on him with the parting request to pass on a goodnight kiss.
They definitely deserved each other.
*
Kris licked Adam’s ear during a bubbletweet and said he could taste the rainbow. Adam pulled him by the belt across the parking lot in front of the entire line of early birds waiting outside when he spent too long on the bus looking for a hat. Kris told a group of their fans that he had to leave signing because he needed to tuck Adam into bed. Adam informed everyone on Twitter that the next time Kris wandered off, Adam was putting a leash on him. Kris changed the intro to his love ballad onstage so he could dedicate it to Adam. Adam dropped the cat o’ nine tails one girl threw onto the stage during his set and told the crowd he was leaving it for Kris as a token of his affection. Kris came up behind him during one of the more badly-choreographed group numbers when Adam wasn’t paying attention to bump and grind until the screaming of the crowd gave him away.
Adam finally caught Kris alone when there was no one else on the bus and backed him up against the bunks, hands braced on either side of Kris’ head to cut off the escape routes.
“You,” he said in a low and hopefully stern voice, “are driving me fucking crazy.”
Kris had the grace to look slightly abashed, but he was still smiling when he said, “What?”
“Don’t even try that with me, Kris Allen,” Adam warned. “You know exactly what you’re doing. Everyone in the world knows what you’re doing.”
“Making music?” Kris tried, bright and cheerful.
“Allison is writing fanfiction about us,” Adam retorted, gritting his teeth. She’d read it to him that morning over breakfast, giggling all the while. He was 90% sure it wasn’t actually ending up on the internet, but if it was, he didn’t want to know.
“Is it any good?” Kris asked, but his eyes flicked to the side, like he was hiding something. Adam pressed forward, forcing Kris flat back against the row of bunks, so close that their chests brushed when they breathed.
“Kris,” Adam said, the final warning tone that Brad would have been able to tell Kris meant that this was his last chance to talk before dire things happened. “What are you doing?”
Kris bit his lip, gaze still evasive. “You said,” he started, and then stopped to swallow. “You and Drake. Am I still on the list?”
Adam was surprised enough to rear back a little, opening up the space around them. He and Drake both had a list of exceptions for their physical relationship when Adam went on the road, exactly two people each. One was picked by Adam, the other by Drake. For himself, Adam had chosen Cassidy, because he was a firm believer in having a close friend you could trust with that part of yourself.
Drake had picked Kris.
“You just don’t want me messing around on you,” Adam had accused, but without any real complaint. He wasn’t planning on screwing other people anyway, it was just a way of keeping things fair, giving them both an outlet if they needed it that came pre-approved.
“You should thank me,” was all Drake had said, and then they’d been distracted by other things, mouths and skin and wandering hands.
Kris knew about the list because Adam had told him, jokingly, one night when he’d just gotten off the phone with Drake and Kris had asked if he was lonely. Adam hadn’t thought he would ever take it this seriously, though.
“Yeah,” he said, startled but still honest. “Yes, you are.” Kris looked up at him, hope and familiar determination in his eyes, and Adam said, “You and Katy don’t have a list.”
“No,” Kris said, and his voice was every kind of low and rough that Adam had ever wanted. “We have you.”
Adam stared at him, and then leaned in, and then stopped and stared again, although from considerably closer-up. “You’re sure,” he said, and felt it when Kris breathed into his mouth.
“Tomorrow’s a hotel night,” Kris said, deadly serious. Adam took a deep breath. This wasn’t a tease, or if it was, it was one that Adam would actually kill Kris for and make up some story about ‘temporary insanity due to Kris Allen’ for the police.
Adam started to lean in again, but just then he heard the door to the bus slam, announcing the return of their tour mates, and both of them jerked reflexively back.
“Katy,” Adam said, checking again even though he was fairly sure now, from his own conversations with her and from the way Kris was acting, that they’d already been over this between them.
Kris smiled at him, standing up straighter to remind Adam that he should take a step back. “She said we don’t get to do anything she doesn’t hear about,” he said, which was fair enough as a ground rule. Adam was already planning the same thing for Drake. “And to tell you she still wants pictures.”
Adam laughed, muttering about voyeurs under his breath, and Kris grinned. He stretched up, lightning-fast, and pressed a brief, dry kiss against Adam’s lips. His smile was crooked and embarrassed when he dropped back down, and made Adam immediately want to kiss him again on his lopsided mouth.
“We got smoothies,” someone yelled from up front. “Yo, Allen, are you in here?”
“Banana?” Kris called back, and threw Adam one last quirky smile before disappearing into the lounge area.
Adam blew out a breath and hoisted himself up into his bunk, fishing his phone out of his pocket. He looked at the screen for a minute, calculating the time difference between here and California, and finally texted Drake, call me tonight. xoxo.
His phone beeped with an incoming text almost as soon as he’d hit ‘send.’ He startled and opened it half-expecting it to be Drake getting back to him in record time, but saw instead that it was a Twitter update.
Hotel tomorrow, said KrisAllen4Real. Adam and I already fighting over pillows.
Adam let his head fall back, smiling up at the ceiling. “Oh, Kristopher,” he said with no small amount of delight. “You are in for it now.”
Pairing: Adam/Kris (Adam/Drake, Kris/Katy)
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This is a complete work of fiction, no disrespect intended. If you are in any way affiliated with these people, please for the love of Pete do not read this. Thank you.
Notes: For maleyka on her birthday. My life would be much less joyful without you, my love. A sincere thank you to disarm_d for looking this over and working her magic, and to cupiscent for being my second set of eyes, even when sparkly blokes are involved.
The problem was, really, Kris Allen was a tease.
Adam held out his hand as soon as he heard Kris talking on the phone, in the familiar warm rise-and-fall cadence that meant it was Katy on the other end of the line. Kris looked at him perplexed, and Adam snapped his fingers twice in the unmistakable sign for gimme. Kris said, “Hang on, I think Adam wants to talk,” with more twang in his voice than he ever had around the rest of them. Adam gave him an approving smile for doing as he was told and put the phone to his ear.
“Your husband is a tease,” he informed Katy, ignoring Kris’ immediate protest.
Not just a minor one, either. Kris wasn’t the sort of tease who left his shirt open down the front because he knew you’d see the flash of bare skin and want, but not be able to have. No, he was the sort that did that without noticing or considering the effect it had on you, and then went on Twitter to inform everyone in America that he was taking you to bed, and by the way, they would be discussing who topped.
It was equal parts endearing and exasperating how Kris still failed to realize that in the event of such an occurrence, Adam would - unequivocally - be on top.
Katy’s voice on the phone was just like Kris’, warm with smiling. “You think I don’t already know this?”
The problem was, all right, the problem was that Kris was a tease, but it was also that Adam was a top, and every time Kris pulled one of his endearingly exasperating stunts at an incredibly inappropriate time, Adam had to count slowly to three and tamp down hard on the part of him that instinctively rose up with the sole desire to make Kris behave.
Kris wasn’t his boy. Kris was just being Kris. No matter how much Kris-being-Kris smacked of Brad-pushing-Adam’s-buttons, Adam still didn’t have any right to put him in line.
“The next time it happens, I may retaliate,” he warned, because she had a right to know, and because maybe Adam didn’t have a right to keep Kris in line, but Katy certainly did. And could.
Drake thought it was hilarious. This was probably because anytime Kris went out in front of cameras and said something Adam instantly regretted, Drake could wind him up later by pulling the same shit and end up eight kinds of well-fucked for it.
“Send me pictures,” Katy said, and he rolled his eyes because they deserved each other.
He passed the phone back to Kris. Kris didn’t look particularly worried. He looked rather proud and pleased that his wife and his best friend were getting on so well.
“I didn’t do anything!” Kris insisted into the phone as he wandered back out of the lounge, and Adam hit himself in the face with a throw pillow.
*
The other problem, which soon became apparent, was that as much as Kris teased, he couldn’t recognize the same thing coming back at him if it smacked him in the head wearing lace bikini briefs.
Adam started small, started subtle. The last thing he needed, and the reason he was always so careful, was a gossip headline stating how he was out to convert Kris. Kris could pull shit and it was cute, it was friendly, it was joking around. If Adam did it, he’d come off looking like a sexual predator. Probably one with a fetish for perverting fresh-faced - and married - straight boys.
Adam had a lot of fetishes, but that wasn’t one of them.
“I think the show’s going to be great,” he told the reporter one day when they were doing promo press before a show. “I really appreciate all of my fans coming out to support me, and I’m flattered and humbled to have my own cheering section.” He moved automatically when he sensed Kris hovering, pulling him down into the frame of the video camera and wrapping an arm around him, fingertips dangling suggestively just over Kris’ collar bone. “Everyone should stay for my boy Kris’ set, too. It’ll be worth it.” He winked at the camera, and Kris grinned obliviously.
They shook hands with the reporter and packed it up, and Adam waited for Kris to come give him a hard time about saying that in an interview. Kris didn’t, though. Not even when they watched the interview on one of the fan sites when it went up, seeing Adam’s head bent towards Kris and his eyelids half-lowered, sending a smoky look out at the camera.
The new problem, clearly, was that Kris picked up on subtlety about as well as an elephant.
Kris might not have gotten the subtext, but everyone else Adam knew heard it loud and clear. “Should I be worried?” Drake asked, full of amusement, when Adam had crashed into his bunk and cradled the phone to his ear, grateful for a quiet moment alone.
“No,” Adam said immediately, hastening to reassure, and then heard Drake laughing on the other end and added, “Asshole. I’m trying to get him back for all of the Twitter shit.”
“He didn’t get it, did he?” Drake asked, unrepentant. “He doesn’t even know what a flogger looks like, baby, he’s never going to recognize S&M subculture slang.”
Adam sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I’ll think of something,” he promised. “Let’s talk about something else. I miss you.”
“Miss you too,” Drake said, soft around the edges. Adam curled up around the phone, protecting the two of them from the rest of the world for a few minutes before life intruded again. “Hey,” Drake said. “You really want to get him back?”
Drake had a thoroughly devious mind when he chose to employ it. Adam was almost - almost - afraid to ask. “What are you thinking?”
“He’s in the bunk under yours, right?” Drake said, purring a little. “How do you feel about a little creative phone sex?”
Adam blinked, admiring and horrified at the same time, and laughed into the receiver. “You’re evil,” he said. “There are so many ways this could go wrong.”
“You’re going to do it anyway, though, right?” Drake asked, and just imagining the two of them faking ridiculously over-the-top phone sex for an audience of one had Adam grinning hard enough that his cheeks hurt, the weight of the tour slowly lifting off his shoulders.
“No promises,” he told Drake, but he definitely didn’t hang up.
*
Adam squeezed the back of Kris’ neck on the red carpet at an event - clear top behavior, he was practically peeing all over Kris to mark his territory, on camera - and Kris just sighed in apparent contentment that he was getting a massage. Adam ordered for him at a PR dinner and Kris merely thanked him for remembering to get extra onions. Adam told a reporter not only that Kris was more of a cat person, but also that doggy-style wasn’t his favorite position, and Kris nodded solemnly in agreement and said, “It’s true.”
The others on tour were starting to give him funny looks. Drake sent him flowers at a venue with a note attached begging Adam to take him back. Neil informed him with easily-apparent glee that the amount of fanfiction in which Adam spent his time pining into illness over Kris, only to be nursed back to health with sex and cuddles, had doubled in the last week.
pickng out wedding presnts, Neil’s latest text informed him. u think kris wants an xbox?
hate u Adam sent back, hoping that the vehemence with which he’d stabbed the keys as he typed somehow translated in digital.
Kris went down on his knees in front of Adam and several thousand other people, did extremely suggestive things with his microphone, and licked his lips. The online communities exploded in high-res and all-caps before they even made it off the stage at the end of the night.
Adam stole his phone.
He snuck away backstage because as soon as Kris came out of the shower, he’d be missing it, so Adam didn’t have a lot of time. He waited impatiently through the first few rings, hoping it didn’t go to voicemail, and then realized that this was Kris’ phone, Kris’ name would come up on the caller ID, and there was every chance that Katy would answer with something neither of them really wanted him to hear.
“Adam, Adam, Adam, Adam,” he chanted, and as soon as he heard the click of the line being picked up, he said in a rush, “It’s Adam, I’m on Kris’ phone, hi.”
There was a brief pause, and then Katy’s voice said, “Hi, Adam.”
“If you don’t do something about him soon, I won’t be responsible,” he told her, and tried not to start whining when she laughed in his ear.
“You’re not a youngest child, are you?” she asked.
“No,” he answered. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“He wants your attention,” Katy said, sounding like she didn’t think she should have to explain this to him. “There’s one way he knows of always getting it.”
“He has my attention,” Adam replied, mystified. “Anytime he wants it.”
“He wants more of it,” Katy said, simple and sweet.
Adam thought that one over. “Did he do this to you?” he asked finally.
She laughed, clear as bells. “Worse,” she answered. “Much worse. Trust me. Just stick to your guns.”
Adam muttered something about his guns and how Kris was likely to end up on the wrong end of them, but Katy just laughed again and hung up on him with the parting request to pass on a goodnight kiss.
They definitely deserved each other.
*
Kris licked Adam’s ear during a bubbletweet and said he could taste the rainbow. Adam pulled him by the belt across the parking lot in front of the entire line of early birds waiting outside when he spent too long on the bus looking for a hat. Kris told a group of their fans that he had to leave signing because he needed to tuck Adam into bed. Adam informed everyone on Twitter that the next time Kris wandered off, Adam was putting a leash on him. Kris changed the intro to his love ballad onstage so he could dedicate it to Adam. Adam dropped the cat o’ nine tails one girl threw onto the stage during his set and told the crowd he was leaving it for Kris as a token of his affection. Kris came up behind him during one of the more badly-choreographed group numbers when Adam wasn’t paying attention to bump and grind until the screaming of the crowd gave him away.
Adam finally caught Kris alone when there was no one else on the bus and backed him up against the bunks, hands braced on either side of Kris’ head to cut off the escape routes.
“You,” he said in a low and hopefully stern voice, “are driving me fucking crazy.”
Kris had the grace to look slightly abashed, but he was still smiling when he said, “What?”
“Don’t even try that with me, Kris Allen,” Adam warned. “You know exactly what you’re doing. Everyone in the world knows what you’re doing.”
“Making music?” Kris tried, bright and cheerful.
“Allison is writing fanfiction about us,” Adam retorted, gritting his teeth. She’d read it to him that morning over breakfast, giggling all the while. He was 90% sure it wasn’t actually ending up on the internet, but if it was, he didn’t want to know.
“Is it any good?” Kris asked, but his eyes flicked to the side, like he was hiding something. Adam pressed forward, forcing Kris flat back against the row of bunks, so close that their chests brushed when they breathed.
“Kris,” Adam said, the final warning tone that Brad would have been able to tell Kris meant that this was his last chance to talk before dire things happened. “What are you doing?”
Kris bit his lip, gaze still evasive. “You said,” he started, and then stopped to swallow. “You and Drake. Am I still on the list?”
Adam was surprised enough to rear back a little, opening up the space around them. He and Drake both had a list of exceptions for their physical relationship when Adam went on the road, exactly two people each. One was picked by Adam, the other by Drake. For himself, Adam had chosen Cassidy, because he was a firm believer in having a close friend you could trust with that part of yourself.
Drake had picked Kris.
“You just don’t want me messing around on you,” Adam had accused, but without any real complaint. He wasn’t planning on screwing other people anyway, it was just a way of keeping things fair, giving them both an outlet if they needed it that came pre-approved.
“You should thank me,” was all Drake had said, and then they’d been distracted by other things, mouths and skin and wandering hands.
Kris knew about the list because Adam had told him, jokingly, one night when he’d just gotten off the phone with Drake and Kris had asked if he was lonely. Adam hadn’t thought he would ever take it this seriously, though.
“Yeah,” he said, startled but still honest. “Yes, you are.” Kris looked up at him, hope and familiar determination in his eyes, and Adam said, “You and Katy don’t have a list.”
“No,” Kris said, and his voice was every kind of low and rough that Adam had ever wanted. “We have you.”
Adam stared at him, and then leaned in, and then stopped and stared again, although from considerably closer-up. “You’re sure,” he said, and felt it when Kris breathed into his mouth.
“Tomorrow’s a hotel night,” Kris said, deadly serious. Adam took a deep breath. This wasn’t a tease, or if it was, it was one that Adam would actually kill Kris for and make up some story about ‘temporary insanity due to Kris Allen’ for the police.
Adam started to lean in again, but just then he heard the door to the bus slam, announcing the return of their tour mates, and both of them jerked reflexively back.
“Katy,” Adam said, checking again even though he was fairly sure now, from his own conversations with her and from the way Kris was acting, that they’d already been over this between them.
Kris smiled at him, standing up straighter to remind Adam that he should take a step back. “She said we don’t get to do anything she doesn’t hear about,” he said, which was fair enough as a ground rule. Adam was already planning the same thing for Drake. “And to tell you she still wants pictures.”
Adam laughed, muttering about voyeurs under his breath, and Kris grinned. He stretched up, lightning-fast, and pressed a brief, dry kiss against Adam’s lips. His smile was crooked and embarrassed when he dropped back down, and made Adam immediately want to kiss him again on his lopsided mouth.
“We got smoothies,” someone yelled from up front. “Yo, Allen, are you in here?”
“Banana?” Kris called back, and threw Adam one last quirky smile before disappearing into the lounge area.
Adam blew out a breath and hoisted himself up into his bunk, fishing his phone out of his pocket. He looked at the screen for a minute, calculating the time difference between here and California, and finally texted Drake, call me tonight. xoxo.
His phone beeped with an incoming text almost as soon as he’d hit ‘send.’ He startled and opened it half-expecting it to be Drake getting back to him in record time, but saw instead that it was a Twitter update.
Hotel tomorrow, said KrisAllen4Real. Adam and I already fighting over pillows.
Adam let his head fall back, smiling up at the ceiling. “Oh, Kristopher,” he said with no small amount of delight. “You are in for it now.”