[AI] Next Time (Won't You Sing With Me?) {A through J}
Title: Next Time (Won't You Sing With Me?) {A through J}
Pairing/Characters: Adam/Kris, Kris/Katy, Kradison friendship
Wordcount: ~2000
Disclaimer: Everyone mentioned belongs only to themselves, and none of this ever happened. Except the bits they showed on TV.
Summary/Notes: The title of this cracks me the hell up, which is why I'm using it, but it's not a particularly cracky fic. I challenged myself, a little, 'cause I figured if I were going to be obsessing over these boys, why not do it in a way that would challenge me as a writer? And I remembered a J2 fic, a while back, that used scenes for each letter of the alphabet to explore their growing relationship. I liked that, so I stole it shamelessly. I tried, in most cases, not to use the atual word that was my letter prompt in the scene, but failed that a couple times (F and H particularly). I also played with the length of the scenes - trying to progress from the first - barely two sentences - to the last (I'm up to J and it's over 400 words long). This means that as the sections get longer I will probably be posting less of them in chunks, but you'll still get the same amount of fic. Yeah?
While I was writing this, thinking of prompts for each letter, my brain kept rhyming at me, so I took a break and wrote this.
Um, wow, that was a long Author's Note. Without further ado!
A is for Adam.
He introduces himself with a little wave and a smile, wide and perfect like a mask's mouth. Kris waves back, and thinks, I'd like to see his face.
B is for Beautiful.
A gorgeous, impossible voice, whether on stage where it's the siren wail of the lost and the chuckling cry of the found, or ringing hollowly out of their shared bathroom, where it's the only instrument of a boy with a mad, lonely dream.
C is for Camera.
Kris grows to hate them. Not for himself - though he's never really been the most photogenic. But for Adam... It's like his friend is...is an oyster. His outside shell is pretty enough, but the pearl is inside, and the flashes of the paparazzi make him slam himself closed again just as Kris was beginning to see its iridescence.
...Kris will never tell Adam that he's an oyster.
D is for Dream.
Katy is smiling and pulling him close, her lips impossibly sweet. He runs a thumb across her cheek and leans into her beautiful eyes. "I miss you." He mutters into the wisps of feeling that are her, that are them. "God, Katy, I love you."
He wakes to find Adam staring sleepless at the ceiling.
E is for Eyeliner.
The cotton ball wipes away the black ink easily, sliding along the lower lid of Adam's eye, and Kris blinks at how different he looks. His blue eyes are natural in his face, still so blue and so bright and so intense but they look right. He feels...privileged, almost, to have seen this Adam - even more so when Adam meets his eyes in the mirror and smiles a true smile.
F is for Freckles.
Kris has noticed that Adam's buff - it's hard not to. He's a touchy-feely guy, with all of them, really, and Kris tends to reciprocate. He's slid his hands over Adam's back enough that he knows there's muscle there. But he hasn't really thought about Adam keeping in shape.
Until he walks into their rooms and Adam's doing pushups. He's obviously just showered - still shirtless, and his hair is dripping beads of water down his muscled back. Kris stands and stares at him - surprised and somehow fascinated at the tiny starlike freckles that pepper Adam's shoulders and neck. There are hundreds of them, thousands, and Kris has a moment where he wants to find out how many thousands, sit down on the floor and count them one by one with gentle fingers. But then Adam looks up at him and even his lips are freckled and Kris busies himself with getting whatever the hell he came in here for.
G is for God.
Kris is a Christian. But he doesn't like to introduce himself that way, doesn't like what he has to do next - hold up his hands and say, "Wait." Doesn't like to say, "I'm sorry if that bothers you," doesn't like to explain that God is love and not prejudice because it worries him and it saddens him that people even need that explained.
So when Adam first looks at him, half-laughing and half-guarded, saying, "I'm gay. Is that going to be a problem? Because we can switch rooms now and avoid the whole thing if you want," he just smiles, and counters, "I snore. Is that going to be a problem? Because we can switch rooms now and avoid the whole thing if you want."
And Adam stares at him a moment, and then laughs, and says, "I'll judge after the first night."
Kris ducks his head, bite his lip, and then looks him in the eyes. "I tend not to at all." He says, and when Adam raises an eyebrow, he clarifies, "Judge."
And he sees Adam's eyes flick to the bedside table, and he sees him recognize the black book worn by many hands. He sees him look Kris in the eyes, wary, and then he sees him relax. "Thank you."
H is for Hug.
He can still remember the first time Adam hugged him, not because he was excited or they'd won something or, who knows, he needed someone to drape himself across, no, he remembers the first time Adam hugged him because he wanted to hug Kris.
It was after a performance night, when the judges had torn into Adam like vultures and Adam had just closed and closed and closed so far that Kris had thought he'd never open again and that had hurt, because Kris was just beginning to see the shape of the real Adam and he liked him, liked him a lot and he didn't deserve this shit. So when Adam brushed past them all with a smile and a quick, "Still here!" Kris followed him, giving him plenty of time to tell him to fuck off and leave him alone if that's what he needed.
But Adam didn't, didn't say anything at all, just curled up on his bed and stared, his fists clenched hard. Kris watched him for a moment and then sat down next to him. "Hey." He said.
Adam didn't look at him, but his fists loosened like he was letting go a long-held breath.
Kris followed his gaze, staring at the wall of the bedroom in memory rather than rage. "It hurts." He said. "It hurts because it's you they're attacking, not "just your song". For some people there's...not really a difference." Kris looked down at Adam, half-smiling. "It can't be just your music they're tearing down, because you are your music. It's one of the first things I noticed about you."
He slid a hand up and down Adam's back, soothing, trying to form what he was thinking into words. "But at the same time...you, here, now, is not the you that sang that song. We change from moment to moment, and the you that's here? Let him be...let him be better because of what they said, yeah? Let him take it and run with it and maybe shove it in their faces, a big "fuck you!" when you can show them how wrong they were."
Neither of them had bothered to turn on the light, and Adam's eyes were luminous as he stared up at Kris. And then he was wrapping long arms around him and pulling him close, cradling him tightly. He smelled like makeup and sweat and some spicy newness that filled Kris up until he had no room for breath. "Kristopher Neil Allen," Adam chuckled into his hair, all disbelief, "How are you even real?"
Kris couldn't help the wide, ridiculous smile that stretched his lips, pressing itself into Adam's chest, right above his heart.
I is for Iraheta.
She's their little sis, their baby Alli, though she'd squawk and punch them for saying so. She's pretty and tiny and has the voice of a rock and roll giant. They take her under their wings pretty much immediately, not just because she's young and vulnerable but because she's incredible. She's insanely talented, and between the two of them they agree that if the show were about raw talent, if the show were what it was supposed to be - bringing young talent to the eyes of others, smoothing it and perfecting it along the way - that Allison Iraheta would be the next American Idol.
It's a testament to how fucked up the show was getting, therefore, that night after night, day after day, the judges tear her down. It's one of the most blatant examples of audience manipulation in the whole show, and Kris should know, suffering under a milder form of it.
But finally even Simon admits her worth, and the rest start to come around. She and Adam are so incredible together that the judges temporarily lose their minds and say that Gokey did a better job than Kris, in their painful duet.
They laugh about it, afterwards, the three of them, Allison's feet on Kris' lap and her head tucked under Adam's chin. Her face is scrunched up with laughter, her hair flying as she shakes with it, and Kris and Adam exchange fond looks. Kris watches Adam brush Allison's hair back and suddenly is struck with the thought that Adam would be a great father, if he ever chooses to be. He imagines Adam picking up a little girl with impossible blue eyes and a wide grin. He sees the girl tug, laughing, on the blue streak in Adam's hair, and Adam turns, daughter on his hip, to kiss a tall, faceless, graceful man who leans in the doorway. Adam's smiling and he's happy and he loves the mystery man, and suddenly and sharply something in Kris' chest hurts.
His smile falters, and Adam looks at him with a question in his eyes. Kris just shrugs.
Adam asks him about it, later, when Alli's gone to bed and it's just the two of the on the couch, stretched out and tangled together. Adam cards a hand through Kris' hair, concern in every twitch of his fingers and Kris kind of loves how he knows that something's wrong just by one lessening smile. "What is it?" Adam asks, and Kris shakes his head, wordless for a moment because he doesn't know.
He presses his ear to Adam's shoulder hard enough to hear his own heartbeat, and force himself to adopt a sort of half-smile. "Can you believe it, though?" He asks. "Fucking Gokey."
And Adam grins, eyes bright, and Kris remembers how to laugh.
J is for Justice.
Kris is chosen first, for the top three, and he's shocked - utterly shocked, because this...this is further than he'd ever dreamed of getting, and because there had been an undercurrent of sadness to their mirth, earlier in the week, a voiceless worry that maybe America agreed with the judges.
But no, he gets through - he does, little Arkansas boy with his guitar on his back. He's swimming in surprise, lost in it, turns to Adam like a ship at sea and Adam curls around him, rumbling vibrating congratulations, his actual voice passing over Kris' head. He doesn't want to move - wants to stay here, wrapped in his moment of triumph because surely this'll be his last week, surely this is the highest he'll rise. But he does pull away - the cameras are on, god, he hates cameras - and there's a whole show to be watched.
He looks at the other three, as they wait, and a new dream starts to form. He sees Allison and Adam and him, the dream top three, taking the world by storm. He sees them showing the world that Idols were people and that people could be good, could be fair, could be different and still love one another. He can see himself leaving, yeah, easily, after this week. He can see the incredible top two that Allison and Adam will make, sees them smirking and rocking their way to the top of the charts, sees them visiting him, collaborating on an album if he's signed for one. He sees Adam winning, of course - the manipulation had to have done some damage, and Adam's...well. Adam's kind of perfect, and he deserves to win. Kris honestly can't imagine anyone else winning.
Echoing his thoughts, Adam is the next one through. He's unsurprised - grateful, of course, but unsurprised all the same, and Kris wonders if as usual their visions of the future are the same. He crosses to Kris, and they wait, rocking a little on their toes, for Allison to join them.
She looks...well, she looks like she's seen their future and she's ready to give it up. She's pressed close to Gokey's side (not a position anyone wants), her small face scrunched into half hope, half resignation, as the show plays its stupid, theatrical waiting game.
And then Gokey is grinning and laughing and casting his eyes heavenward and Kris gapes as the dream crumbles, replaced by something far worse.
Adam, Gokey and him.
Adam and Gokey in the finals.
They smother Alli in hugs somewhat distractedly. Adam meets his eyes over Allison's head, and Kris feels a new sort of determination.
He's going to make it to the final two. For Adam, because there's no way in hell he's making the poor guy suffer through a week of only Gokey, and for Allison. She sings the fuck out of Cry Baby, showing the world and the judges just what they're throwing away, and Adam and Kris stand a bit apart from Danny, united in silent decision.
They were going to win this, the two of them, for her.
Coming soon - K is for Katy, and beyond.
Pairing/Characters: Adam/Kris, Kris/Katy, Kradison friendship
Wordcount: ~2000
Disclaimer: Everyone mentioned belongs only to themselves, and none of this ever happened. Except the bits they showed on TV.
Summary/Notes: The title of this cracks me the hell up, which is why I'm using it, but it's not a particularly cracky fic. I challenged myself, a little, 'cause I figured if I were going to be obsessing over these boys, why not do it in a way that would challenge me as a writer? And I remembered a J2 fic, a while back, that used scenes for each letter of the alphabet to explore their growing relationship. I liked that, so I stole it shamelessly. I tried, in most cases, not to use the atual word that was my letter prompt in the scene, but failed that a couple times (F and H particularly). I also played with the length of the scenes - trying to progress from the first - barely two sentences - to the last (I'm up to J and it's over 400 words long). This means that as the sections get longer I will probably be posting less of them in chunks, but you'll still get the same amount of fic. Yeah?
While I was writing this, thinking of prompts for each letter, my brain kept rhyming at me, so I took a break and wrote this.
Um, wow, that was a long Author's Note. Without further ado!
A is for Adam.
He introduces himself with a little wave and a smile, wide and perfect like a mask's mouth. Kris waves back, and thinks, I'd like to see his face.
B is for Beautiful.
A gorgeous, impossible voice, whether on stage where it's the siren wail of the lost and the chuckling cry of the found, or ringing hollowly out of their shared bathroom, where it's the only instrument of a boy with a mad, lonely dream.
C is for Camera.
Kris grows to hate them. Not for himself - though he's never really been the most photogenic. But for Adam... It's like his friend is...is an oyster. His outside shell is pretty enough, but the pearl is inside, and the flashes of the paparazzi make him slam himself closed again just as Kris was beginning to see its iridescence.
...Kris will never tell Adam that he's an oyster.
D is for Dream.
Katy is smiling and pulling him close, her lips impossibly sweet. He runs a thumb across her cheek and leans into her beautiful eyes. "I miss you." He mutters into the wisps of feeling that are her, that are them. "God, Katy, I love you."
He wakes to find Adam staring sleepless at the ceiling.
E is for Eyeliner.
The cotton ball wipes away the black ink easily, sliding along the lower lid of Adam's eye, and Kris blinks at how different he looks. His blue eyes are natural in his face, still so blue and so bright and so intense but they look right. He feels...privileged, almost, to have seen this Adam - even more so when Adam meets his eyes in the mirror and smiles a true smile.
F is for Freckles.
Kris has noticed that Adam's buff - it's hard not to. He's a touchy-feely guy, with all of them, really, and Kris tends to reciprocate. He's slid his hands over Adam's back enough that he knows there's muscle there. But he hasn't really thought about Adam keeping in shape.
Until he walks into their rooms and Adam's doing pushups. He's obviously just showered - still shirtless, and his hair is dripping beads of water down his muscled back. Kris stands and stares at him - surprised and somehow fascinated at the tiny starlike freckles that pepper Adam's shoulders and neck. There are hundreds of them, thousands, and Kris has a moment where he wants to find out how many thousands, sit down on the floor and count them one by one with gentle fingers. But then Adam looks up at him and even his lips are freckled and Kris busies himself with getting whatever the hell he came in here for.
G is for God.
Kris is a Christian. But he doesn't like to introduce himself that way, doesn't like what he has to do next - hold up his hands and say, "Wait." Doesn't like to say, "I'm sorry if that bothers you," doesn't like to explain that God is love and not prejudice because it worries him and it saddens him that people even need that explained.
So when Adam first looks at him, half-laughing and half-guarded, saying, "I'm gay. Is that going to be a problem? Because we can switch rooms now and avoid the whole thing if you want," he just smiles, and counters, "I snore. Is that going to be a problem? Because we can switch rooms now and avoid the whole thing if you want."
And Adam stares at him a moment, and then laughs, and says, "I'll judge after the first night."
Kris ducks his head, bite his lip, and then looks him in the eyes. "I tend not to at all." He says, and when Adam raises an eyebrow, he clarifies, "Judge."
And he sees Adam's eyes flick to the bedside table, and he sees him recognize the black book worn by many hands. He sees him look Kris in the eyes, wary, and then he sees him relax. "Thank you."
H is for Hug.
He can still remember the first time Adam hugged him, not because he was excited or they'd won something or, who knows, he needed someone to drape himself across, no, he remembers the first time Adam hugged him because he wanted to hug Kris.
It was after a performance night, when the judges had torn into Adam like vultures and Adam had just closed and closed and closed so far that Kris had thought he'd never open again and that had hurt, because Kris was just beginning to see the shape of the real Adam and he liked him, liked him a lot and he didn't deserve this shit. So when Adam brushed past them all with a smile and a quick, "Still here!" Kris followed him, giving him plenty of time to tell him to fuck off and leave him alone if that's what he needed.
But Adam didn't, didn't say anything at all, just curled up on his bed and stared, his fists clenched hard. Kris watched him for a moment and then sat down next to him. "Hey." He said.
Adam didn't look at him, but his fists loosened like he was letting go a long-held breath.
Kris followed his gaze, staring at the wall of the bedroom in memory rather than rage. "It hurts." He said. "It hurts because it's you they're attacking, not "just your song". For some people there's...not really a difference." Kris looked down at Adam, half-smiling. "It can't be just your music they're tearing down, because you are your music. It's one of the first things I noticed about you."
He slid a hand up and down Adam's back, soothing, trying to form what he was thinking into words. "But at the same time...you, here, now, is not the you that sang that song. We change from moment to moment, and the you that's here? Let him be...let him be better because of what they said, yeah? Let him take it and run with it and maybe shove it in their faces, a big "fuck you!" when you can show them how wrong they were."
Neither of them had bothered to turn on the light, and Adam's eyes were luminous as he stared up at Kris. And then he was wrapping long arms around him and pulling him close, cradling him tightly. He smelled like makeup and sweat and some spicy newness that filled Kris up until he had no room for breath. "Kristopher Neil Allen," Adam chuckled into his hair, all disbelief, "How are you even real?"
Kris couldn't help the wide, ridiculous smile that stretched his lips, pressing itself into Adam's chest, right above his heart.
I is for Iraheta.
She's their little sis, their baby Alli, though she'd squawk and punch them for saying so. She's pretty and tiny and has the voice of a rock and roll giant. They take her under their wings pretty much immediately, not just because she's young and vulnerable but because she's incredible. She's insanely talented, and between the two of them they agree that if the show were about raw talent, if the show were what it was supposed to be - bringing young talent to the eyes of others, smoothing it and perfecting it along the way - that Allison Iraheta would be the next American Idol.
It's a testament to how fucked up the show was getting, therefore, that night after night, day after day, the judges tear her down. It's one of the most blatant examples of audience manipulation in the whole show, and Kris should know, suffering under a milder form of it.
But finally even Simon admits her worth, and the rest start to come around. She and Adam are so incredible together that the judges temporarily lose their minds and say that Gokey did a better job than Kris, in their painful duet.
They laugh about it, afterwards, the three of them, Allison's feet on Kris' lap and her head tucked under Adam's chin. Her face is scrunched up with laughter, her hair flying as she shakes with it, and Kris and Adam exchange fond looks. Kris watches Adam brush Allison's hair back and suddenly is struck with the thought that Adam would be a great father, if he ever chooses to be. He imagines Adam picking up a little girl with impossible blue eyes and a wide grin. He sees the girl tug, laughing, on the blue streak in Adam's hair, and Adam turns, daughter on his hip, to kiss a tall, faceless, graceful man who leans in the doorway. Adam's smiling and he's happy and he loves the mystery man, and suddenly and sharply something in Kris' chest hurts.
His smile falters, and Adam looks at him with a question in his eyes. Kris just shrugs.
Adam asks him about it, later, when Alli's gone to bed and it's just the two of the on the couch, stretched out and tangled together. Adam cards a hand through Kris' hair, concern in every twitch of his fingers and Kris kind of loves how he knows that something's wrong just by one lessening smile. "What is it?" Adam asks, and Kris shakes his head, wordless for a moment because he doesn't know.
He presses his ear to Adam's shoulder hard enough to hear his own heartbeat, and force himself to adopt a sort of half-smile. "Can you believe it, though?" He asks. "Fucking Gokey."
And Adam grins, eyes bright, and Kris remembers how to laugh.
J is for Justice.
Kris is chosen first, for the top three, and he's shocked - utterly shocked, because this...this is further than he'd ever dreamed of getting, and because there had been an undercurrent of sadness to their mirth, earlier in the week, a voiceless worry that maybe America agreed with the judges.
But no, he gets through - he does, little Arkansas boy with his guitar on his back. He's swimming in surprise, lost in it, turns to Adam like a ship at sea and Adam curls around him, rumbling vibrating congratulations, his actual voice passing over Kris' head. He doesn't want to move - wants to stay here, wrapped in his moment of triumph because surely this'll be his last week, surely this is the highest he'll rise. But he does pull away - the cameras are on, god, he hates cameras - and there's a whole show to be watched.
He looks at the other three, as they wait, and a new dream starts to form. He sees Allison and Adam and him, the dream top three, taking the world by storm. He sees them showing the world that Idols were people and that people could be good, could be fair, could be different and still love one another. He can see himself leaving, yeah, easily, after this week. He can see the incredible top two that Allison and Adam will make, sees them smirking and rocking their way to the top of the charts, sees them visiting him, collaborating on an album if he's signed for one. He sees Adam winning, of course - the manipulation had to have done some damage, and Adam's...well. Adam's kind of perfect, and he deserves to win. Kris honestly can't imagine anyone else winning.
Echoing his thoughts, Adam is the next one through. He's unsurprised - grateful, of course, but unsurprised all the same, and Kris wonders if as usual their visions of the future are the same. He crosses to Kris, and they wait, rocking a little on their toes, for Allison to join them.
She looks...well, she looks like she's seen their future and she's ready to give it up. She's pressed close to Gokey's side (not a position anyone wants), her small face scrunched into half hope, half resignation, as the show plays its stupid, theatrical waiting game.
And then Gokey is grinning and laughing and casting his eyes heavenward and Kris gapes as the dream crumbles, replaced by something far worse.
Adam, Gokey and him.
Adam and Gokey in the finals.
They smother Alli in hugs somewhat distractedly. Adam meets his eyes over Allison's head, and Kris feels a new sort of determination.
He's going to make it to the final two. For Adam, because there's no way in hell he's making the poor guy suffer through a week of only Gokey, and for Allison. She sings the fuck out of Cry Baby, showing the world and the judges just what they're throwing away, and Adam and Kris stand a bit apart from Danny, united in silent decision.
They were going to win this, the two of them, for her.
Coming soon - K is for Katy, and beyond.