American Idol fic | Consider It A Challenge | Gen | ~1400 words | PG-13
Consider it a Challenge
Adam and Kris | PG-13 | ~ 1400 words
Week eight, after results night.
"Whoever said you can't get drunk off of beer was lying," Kris says. He walks over to his bed and drops down, bouncing a little when he hits the mattress. He makes an unhappy noise as he sways then bends forward, reaching for his shoes with clumsy fingers. He has a cranky look of determination on his face.
"Who said that?" Adam says. "Why wouldn't you be able to get drunk off of beer?"
"Whoever," Kris says.
Adam isn't sure if there was going to be more to that sentence, but Kris has stopped speaking and is instead trying to wrestle his shoe off. His leg is bent up, one ankle crossed over the other thigh. He hunches inward with his back sharply curved.
Adam looks down at his own feet. As he's unzipping the little zipper down the centre he says, "So today we said goodbye to Scott and learned that beer contains alcohol."
Kris snorts. "I already knew that," he says. "I'm not as naive as you think. I am married."
Adam looks up from his boots with what is undoubtedly an expression of horror.
Kris keeps a straight face for all of three seconds before he cracks up. "Kidding," he says. "I'm just kidding, man."
Adam shakes his head. Kris has got a really dry sense of humour and Adam hasn't quite got a read on his tone yet.
"I was playing in clubs and stuff before this," Kris says. He whispers theatrically, "This isn't actually the first time I've been drunk."
"Sure," Adam says. He doesn't know what the fuck people get up to in Arkansas, other than married at 23.
"I'm just tired," Kris says. "I would have sworn on a stack of Bibles before this that I could never get sick of singing, but I don't know, man."
"Nah, I hear you," Adam says. "It's still better than doing two shows a day on weekends, but--"
"So far," Kris says. "It's just going to get worse." He catches himself. "Hopefully. I hope that it will get worse, because that means I'm still around."
"It's a fair game," Adam says. "Plus there's the Judges' Save. Who the fuck knows what's going to happen."
"Yeah," Kris says. "But you had Simon on his feet last night." He says it all soft like he's actually in awe. All soft and sweet and sometimes Kris is so nice that Adam doesn't know how to handle him.
"You're like the protagonist in a fucking Disney movie," Adam says. "I don't know what one because I don't watch Disney movies, but one of them, that's for sure."
"I watch Disney movies when we babysit Katy's nieces," Kris says, and Adam thinks, Of course you do. Kris continues, "Lots of singing. So, that's like both our lives." And then he asks, "Are you drunk, too?"
Adam drank about as much as Kris so, "No, I'm not drunk," he says. Even if he were drunk he wouldn't admit it. He can hold his alcohol better than his half-sized roommate.
"That's good," says Kris. "Being hungover sucks."
"You going to be okay tomorrow?" Adam asks.
"Oh yeah," Kris says. "I'm just tired. And we've got... five hours before we need to get up again. No problem."
"I'll go get you water," Adam says.
Kris makes a disgruntled noise, but Adam's already halfway across the bedroom. He makes his way down to the kitchen, and pauses to take a couple of bites of the mostly eaten chocolate cake sitting on the counter. There's a fork right beside it but still Adam feels guilty eating the cake that was cooked for Scott on the same night Scott was sent home. These going away dinners each night are taking their tole. There wasn't this much fanfare when someone left the cast of Wicked even after they had been touring together for the better part of a year.
Adam fills a tall glass with water and carries it up for Kris, who he finds standing attentively by the door like he's been waiting for Adam.
"Here you go," Adam says, passing the glass over.
"Thank you," Kris says. He lifts the glass to his mouth and takes a tiny, tiny sip.
Adam often showers in the evening, because that way his hair is dry and ready to be flat ironed in the morning. Tonight, he's just ready to sleep. He probably stinks of adrenalin right now; even though this isn't the most worried he has ever been about getting voted off, it's still live TV, and it's still nerve wracking.
He walks into the bathroom, wets a cotton ball with eye makeup remover and starts wiping at his face. He brushes his teeth and when he walks back in the bedroom, Kris has finished a third of the glass of water.
They move slowly around the room, getting undressed, pulling out clothes so that the mad scramble to get ready tomorrow will be a little easier. Adam puts on pyjama bottoms and no shirt and walks over the turn out the lights after checking with Kris, "Do you have everything you need?"
"I'm good," says Kris. "Thanks."
Adam flips the light switch. He can still see enough to make his way back to the bed because they've left the blinds open. Katy told Kris that natural light makes it easier to wake up in the morning, so they've been trying that for the past few days.
Adam pulls back the comforter and slides into bed, settling on his back. He rubs his forehead with his palm and tries to sigh quietly. Wednesdays are the worst. Tomorrow he can go to bed with the new song he's working on playing inside his head but for tonight there's just a whole lot of noise.
Adam flails a little when he feels a weight next to him on the bed, pulls his hand away and snaps his head to the side, finding himself face to face with Kris.
"This isn't your bed," Adam says.
Kris laughs softly and says, "I know. I just came to visit."
"You okay?" asks Adam.
Kris nods and scoots in closer, away from the edge of the mattress, right up into Adam's space. This is the first time Adam's had a straight guy in his bed for... quite a while now.
"I'm glad we're roommates," Kris says.
Adam rolls onto his side and touches his arm to Kris's elbow. "Me, too," he says, giving Kris a friendly squeeze.
Kris squirms around happily until his and Adam's heads are on the same pillow. He gives a contented sigh.
Adam looks helplessly up at the ceiling and waits. 'Visit' seems to imply a finite length of time, but instead of leaving, Kris curls up beside Adam, breaths softly against his neck. He's just the right size to fit under Adam's arm and he's petting his hand clumsily down Adam's chest, like he's trying to be friendly or something, and he doesn't want to give Adam a blowjob and how is Adam's life so ridiculous. These days, Adam's life is fucking ridiculous. He's trapped in this gilded lily hell hole of no blowjobs and he and Brad and been on a break for more than a year now. If they have any more drunk fucks they're going to have to talk, and talking is just going to lead to them saying out loud that it's over. Brad was about the same size as Kris. Brad always wanted to give him blowjobs.
"Are you going to sleep here?" Adam asks.
Kris hums, which isn't an answer.
There's another bed; Kris isn't holding on that tightly. Adam could get up and sleep in the other bed, but whatever. Kris somehow manages to feel unobtrusive, even though he's taking over half the bed and most of Adam's personal space, and, anyway, Adam has been sleeping alone for a long time now. No visitors after ten pm but Kris is right here. Adam's not feeling touch-starved, not really. Not like in high school, not like when he first moved out and his apartment had cockroaches, not like when some guy said that Adam could blow him for a chance to sing in the chorus and Adam actually considered if for a beat before storming out of the room.
Adam's happy to be doing what he's doing, happy enough to be here in this borrowed bed, listening to the slow cadence of Kris's breathing. He tightens his arm around Kris and stares up at the ceiling.
Adam and Kris | PG-13 | ~ 1400 words
Week eight, after results night.
"Whoever said you can't get drunk off of beer was lying," Kris says. He walks over to his bed and drops down, bouncing a little when he hits the mattress. He makes an unhappy noise as he sways then bends forward, reaching for his shoes with clumsy fingers. He has a cranky look of determination on his face.
"Who said that?" Adam says. "Why wouldn't you be able to get drunk off of beer?"
"Whoever," Kris says.
Adam isn't sure if there was going to be more to that sentence, but Kris has stopped speaking and is instead trying to wrestle his shoe off. His leg is bent up, one ankle crossed over the other thigh. He hunches inward with his back sharply curved.
Adam looks down at his own feet. As he's unzipping the little zipper down the centre he says, "So today we said goodbye to Scott and learned that beer contains alcohol."
Kris snorts. "I already knew that," he says. "I'm not as naive as you think. I am married."
Adam looks up from his boots with what is undoubtedly an expression of horror.
Kris keeps a straight face for all of three seconds before he cracks up. "Kidding," he says. "I'm just kidding, man."
Adam shakes his head. Kris has got a really dry sense of humour and Adam hasn't quite got a read on his tone yet.
"I was playing in clubs and stuff before this," Kris says. He whispers theatrically, "This isn't actually the first time I've been drunk."
"Sure," Adam says. He doesn't know what the fuck people get up to in Arkansas, other than married at 23.
"I'm just tired," Kris says. "I would have sworn on a stack of Bibles before this that I could never get sick of singing, but I don't know, man."
"Nah, I hear you," Adam says. "It's still better than doing two shows a day on weekends, but--"
"So far," Kris says. "It's just going to get worse." He catches himself. "Hopefully. I hope that it will get worse, because that means I'm still around."
"It's a fair game," Adam says. "Plus there's the Judges' Save. Who the fuck knows what's going to happen."
"Yeah," Kris says. "But you had Simon on his feet last night." He says it all soft like he's actually in awe. All soft and sweet and sometimes Kris is so nice that Adam doesn't know how to handle him.
"You're like the protagonist in a fucking Disney movie," Adam says. "I don't know what one because I don't watch Disney movies, but one of them, that's for sure."
"I watch Disney movies when we babysit Katy's nieces," Kris says, and Adam thinks, Of course you do. Kris continues, "Lots of singing. So, that's like both our lives." And then he asks, "Are you drunk, too?"
Adam drank about as much as Kris so, "No, I'm not drunk," he says. Even if he were drunk he wouldn't admit it. He can hold his alcohol better than his half-sized roommate.
"That's good," says Kris. "Being hungover sucks."
"You going to be okay tomorrow?" Adam asks.
"Oh yeah," Kris says. "I'm just tired. And we've got... five hours before we need to get up again. No problem."
"I'll go get you water," Adam says.
Kris makes a disgruntled noise, but Adam's already halfway across the bedroom. He makes his way down to the kitchen, and pauses to take a couple of bites of the mostly eaten chocolate cake sitting on the counter. There's a fork right beside it but still Adam feels guilty eating the cake that was cooked for Scott on the same night Scott was sent home. These going away dinners each night are taking their tole. There wasn't this much fanfare when someone left the cast of Wicked even after they had been touring together for the better part of a year.
Adam fills a tall glass with water and carries it up for Kris, who he finds standing attentively by the door like he's been waiting for Adam.
"Here you go," Adam says, passing the glass over.
"Thank you," Kris says. He lifts the glass to his mouth and takes a tiny, tiny sip.
Adam often showers in the evening, because that way his hair is dry and ready to be flat ironed in the morning. Tonight, he's just ready to sleep. He probably stinks of adrenalin right now; even though this isn't the most worried he has ever been about getting voted off, it's still live TV, and it's still nerve wracking.
He walks into the bathroom, wets a cotton ball with eye makeup remover and starts wiping at his face. He brushes his teeth and when he walks back in the bedroom, Kris has finished a third of the glass of water.
They move slowly around the room, getting undressed, pulling out clothes so that the mad scramble to get ready tomorrow will be a little easier. Adam puts on pyjama bottoms and no shirt and walks over the turn out the lights after checking with Kris, "Do you have everything you need?"
"I'm good," says Kris. "Thanks."
Adam flips the light switch. He can still see enough to make his way back to the bed because they've left the blinds open. Katy told Kris that natural light makes it easier to wake up in the morning, so they've been trying that for the past few days.
Adam pulls back the comforter and slides into bed, settling on his back. He rubs his forehead with his palm and tries to sigh quietly. Wednesdays are the worst. Tomorrow he can go to bed with the new song he's working on playing inside his head but for tonight there's just a whole lot of noise.
Adam flails a little when he feels a weight next to him on the bed, pulls his hand away and snaps his head to the side, finding himself face to face with Kris.
"This isn't your bed," Adam says.
Kris laughs softly and says, "I know. I just came to visit."
"You okay?" asks Adam.
Kris nods and scoots in closer, away from the edge of the mattress, right up into Adam's space. This is the first time Adam's had a straight guy in his bed for... quite a while now.
"I'm glad we're roommates," Kris says.
Adam rolls onto his side and touches his arm to Kris's elbow. "Me, too," he says, giving Kris a friendly squeeze.
Kris squirms around happily until his and Adam's heads are on the same pillow. He gives a contented sigh.
Adam looks helplessly up at the ceiling and waits. 'Visit' seems to imply a finite length of time, but instead of leaving, Kris curls up beside Adam, breaths softly against his neck. He's just the right size to fit under Adam's arm and he's petting his hand clumsily down Adam's chest, like he's trying to be friendly or something, and he doesn't want to give Adam a blowjob and how is Adam's life so ridiculous. These days, Adam's life is fucking ridiculous. He's trapped in this gilded lily hell hole of no blowjobs and he and Brad and been on a break for more than a year now. If they have any more drunk fucks they're going to have to talk, and talking is just going to lead to them saying out loud that it's over. Brad was about the same size as Kris. Brad always wanted to give him blowjobs.
"Are you going to sleep here?" Adam asks.
Kris hums, which isn't an answer.
There's another bed; Kris isn't holding on that tightly. Adam could get up and sleep in the other bed, but whatever. Kris somehow manages to feel unobtrusive, even though he's taking over half the bed and most of Adam's personal space, and, anyway, Adam has been sleeping alone for a long time now. No visitors after ten pm but Kris is right here. Adam's not feeling touch-starved, not really. Not like in high school, not like when he first moved out and his apartment had cockroaches, not like when some guy said that Adam could blow him for a chance to sing in the chorus and Adam actually considered if for a beat before storming out of the room.
Adam's happy to be doing what he's doing, happy enough to be here in this borrowed bed, listening to the slow cadence of Kris's breathing. He tightens his arm around Kris and stares up at the ceiling.