To Jerakeen.
Title: Adam's place.
Rating: Gen
Pairing: Adam/Kris.
Disclaimer:This portrayal is entirely fictional. Not for profit, just for our entertainment.
Word-count: 950
Warnings: None
Beta by the delicious Lire_casander. Thank you.
Summary: He's not pining away, for goodness sake. He just wants some plaid familiarity to break the grayness of the loft.
Notes: This is for Jerakeen, who knows Adam's mind from the inside and writes the most amazing Kris ever. I hope it makes you smile, because that was the plan.
It looks like Adam's friends dislike his new flat. They never want to come and visit. Kris used to do it, back when he was still living in LA, before the divorce. But the rest of the gang? Their selected meeting point is at Cassidy's nowadays.
And Adam doesn't blame them, actually. Somebody chose this loft for him, and he loathes it, because it's a painful reminder of how empty his life is. He wanted to share it with someone, anyone, but his life is hectic right now and it looks like there is never a steady enough boyfriend to make the place look like someone lives in it. (And also? He is becoming peculiar with this boyfriend's business. He doesn't have energy to dedicate to relationships. They require a lot of time and effort, and, honestly, it's very difficult to be in the mood for romance when he can hardly know what day it is, where he's going to wake up or when he will be allowed to have time to make a phone call. That Kris has been divorced for almost eight months is nothing but a coincidence. It doesn't help, but it's just a coincidence.)
So every time Kris comes to town, he stays at Adam's, and they hang around together. Those times, Adam sneaks into Kris's room (the third door on the left) and takes little things that Kris won't miss, like one of his two hundred guitar picks, or the old graying t-shirt Kris uses to sleep. They're just harmless items like the discarded paper with the schedule Kris has to follow during his visit. Everybody knows that Kris is a bit of a clutter bunny and his possessions colonize any space he's in very quickly. Adam takes all the spare stuff he can, and he hides it until Kris is gone, and then he leaves things casually lying around. The sweater over the sofa, headphones hanging from the uncomfortable white chair that Kris uses because he's the only one small enough to sit there comfortably and not break his spine while at it... The little reminders lighten the place and that way, when he arrives home, he can fool himself into believing that Kris is still there, and the big loft doesn't feel so cold and harsh.
Unhealthy? Maybe. But it's almost a... comfort thing for Adam. He barely spends time at home nowadays, and he was used to share his space with Kris after Idol and the tour. So what if having some of Kris' belongings around makes Adam at ease? He's not pining away, for goodness sake. He just wants some plaid familiarity to break the grayness of the loft.
It's middle January when he notices for the first time that the corner where Kris leaves his guitar case has two more instruments he didn't own perched on a rack. Then, some packages of disposable lenses appear right next to his moisturizing cream in the bathroom. There is a box of the crunchy cereal Kris prefers over the table, and the disgusting Converse sneakers that Adam hates with the fury of one thousand suns have attached themselves by the door. In the yard, under the midget orange tree, Kris has left his old sunglasses and Adam's battered copy of Twilight. (It's the third time he tries to read it, but so far it's not going any better than the two previous attempts.)
By the end of March, the news of Katy's new relationship hit the press, and when Adam arrives home, Kris is sleeping on the black couch. It's a wide couch, and Kris looks small, smaller than usual, under an old purple blanket Adam forgot he owned. He looks around, but other than the red guitar and the denim jacket over the computer, there is nothing that looks like Kris luggage. Adam guesses that there is so much stuff from Kris already at the loft that he really didn't need anything else. He considers for a moment to shut the TV off, but in the end he leaves it on. (Kris is the only one who understands the remote, anyway. The damn thing is impossible). He pauses on his way to bed and looks back, before turning off the light. He sleeps very well that night.
They talk and talk and talk for weeks, afterwards. He is worried, but Kris seems to be mostly resigned. The light is coming through the big windows, and the weather is kind enough to allow them to sit outside in the yard, Kris lying on the scarce grass, Adam resting his feet on the other wooden chair.
May comes and goes, and Kris is composing again. He wears the plaid shirt he wore at GMA a lot, and there are glasses of orange juice everywhere. Kris bought two inviting chairs for the computer table, and a horrible eggplant rug that covers half floor because Kris loves to walk around barefoot. The pile of sports magazines on the corner keeps on growing and the sitting room is a mess, but Adam loves it. He has never been so happy. Now his place feels like a real home.
So it's a surprise when they finally sleep together and the first thing Kris does in the morning, instead of freaking out like Adam expected, is to call his PA and ask him to find them a "house, a normal house, man, nothing like this. I swear, Adam, this is the most horrifyingly empty living space I've ever been in."
He only smiles, and lets Kris take care of their living arrangements. It doesn't matter. In Adam's opinion, no place is empty if it has part of Kris Allen in it.
Rating: Gen
Pairing: Adam/Kris.
Disclaimer:This portrayal is entirely fictional. Not for profit, just for our entertainment.
Word-count: 950
Warnings: None
Beta by the delicious Lire_casander. Thank you.
Summary: He's not pining away, for goodness sake. He just wants some plaid familiarity to break the grayness of the loft.
Notes: This is for Jerakeen, who knows Adam's mind from the inside and writes the most amazing Kris ever. I hope it makes you smile, because that was the plan.
It looks like Adam's friends dislike his new flat. They never want to come and visit. Kris used to do it, back when he was still living in LA, before the divorce. But the rest of the gang? Their selected meeting point is at Cassidy's nowadays.
And Adam doesn't blame them, actually. Somebody chose this loft for him, and he loathes it, because it's a painful reminder of how empty his life is. He wanted to share it with someone, anyone, but his life is hectic right now and it looks like there is never a steady enough boyfriend to make the place look like someone lives in it. (And also? He is becoming peculiar with this boyfriend's business. He doesn't have energy to dedicate to relationships. They require a lot of time and effort, and, honestly, it's very difficult to be in the mood for romance when he can hardly know what day it is, where he's going to wake up or when he will be allowed to have time to make a phone call. That Kris has been divorced for almost eight months is nothing but a coincidence. It doesn't help, but it's just a coincidence.)
So every time Kris comes to town, he stays at Adam's, and they hang around together. Those times, Adam sneaks into Kris's room (the third door on the left) and takes little things that Kris won't miss, like one of his two hundred guitar picks, or the old graying t-shirt Kris uses to sleep. They're just harmless items like the discarded paper with the schedule Kris has to follow during his visit. Everybody knows that Kris is a bit of a clutter bunny and his possessions colonize any space he's in very quickly. Adam takes all the spare stuff he can, and he hides it until Kris is gone, and then he leaves things casually lying around. The sweater over the sofa, headphones hanging from the uncomfortable white chair that Kris uses because he's the only one small enough to sit there comfortably and not break his spine while at it... The little reminders lighten the place and that way, when he arrives home, he can fool himself into believing that Kris is still there, and the big loft doesn't feel so cold and harsh.
Unhealthy? Maybe. But it's almost a... comfort thing for Adam. He barely spends time at home nowadays, and he was used to share his space with Kris after Idol and the tour. So what if having some of Kris' belongings around makes Adam at ease? He's not pining away, for goodness sake. He just wants some plaid familiarity to break the grayness of the loft.
It's middle January when he notices for the first time that the corner where Kris leaves his guitar case has two more instruments he didn't own perched on a rack. Then, some packages of disposable lenses appear right next to his moisturizing cream in the bathroom. There is a box of the crunchy cereal Kris prefers over the table, and the disgusting Converse sneakers that Adam hates with the fury of one thousand suns have attached themselves by the door. In the yard, under the midget orange tree, Kris has left his old sunglasses and Adam's battered copy of Twilight. (It's the third time he tries to read it, but so far it's not going any better than the two previous attempts.)
By the end of March, the news of Katy's new relationship hit the press, and when Adam arrives home, Kris is sleeping on the black couch. It's a wide couch, and Kris looks small, smaller than usual, under an old purple blanket Adam forgot he owned. He looks around, but other than the red guitar and the denim jacket over the computer, there is nothing that looks like Kris luggage. Adam guesses that there is so much stuff from Kris already at the loft that he really didn't need anything else. He considers for a moment to shut the TV off, but in the end he leaves it on. (Kris is the only one who understands the remote, anyway. The damn thing is impossible). He pauses on his way to bed and looks back, before turning off the light. He sleeps very well that night.
They talk and talk and talk for weeks, afterwards. He is worried, but Kris seems to be mostly resigned. The light is coming through the big windows, and the weather is kind enough to allow them to sit outside in the yard, Kris lying on the scarce grass, Adam resting his feet on the other wooden chair.
May comes and goes, and Kris is composing again. He wears the plaid shirt he wore at GMA a lot, and there are glasses of orange juice everywhere. Kris bought two inviting chairs for the computer table, and a horrible eggplant rug that covers half floor because Kris loves to walk around barefoot. The pile of sports magazines on the corner keeps on growing and the sitting room is a mess, but Adam loves it. He has never been so happy. Now his place feels like a real home.
So it's a surprise when they finally sleep together and the first thing Kris does in the morning, instead of freaking out like Adam expected, is to call his PA and ask him to find them a "house, a normal house, man, nothing like this. I swear, Adam, this is the most horrifyingly empty living space I've ever been in."
He only smiles, and lets Kris take care of their living arrangements. It doesn't matter. In Adam's opinion, no place is empty if it has part of Kris Allen in it.