AI Fic | In This Quiet | Adam & Kris | PG-13 | Silence
In This Quiet
Adam & Kris | PG-13 | ~1300 words
Kink Bingo: Silence
I wrote this months ago, and while I still don't know if it actually works the way I want it to, I'm finally going to post. I owe supergrover24 SO MANY THANK YOUs. She read this over about a million times, and I am so grateful to her. Thanks also to airgiodslv for giving this a final lookover. ♥!
Three days before the Top Two performance night and they get dropped off at the hotel late in the evening. Adam sags back against the mirrored wall of the elevator and breathes in deeply. The elevator is huge and there's room for another dozen people, easy, but it's just him and Kris.
The doors stay open and Adam blinks once before he realizes that neither of them have pressed the button yet. Kris seems to clue in at the same time, because they both start moving forward simultaneously. Kris steps back again when he sees that Adam's going for it, and settles himself into the corner of the elevator while Adam pushes the button for the fifteenth floor. Kris is just the right height to fit under Adam's arm, especially now when he's curled in on himself. It makes Adam want to move closer and that makes Adam think that he should move to the opposite end of the elevator, but he just stays where he is, in the centre where it's a straight line to the doors.
Adam needs to drink warm water and honey, plug in his humidifier, and then he needs to sleep, but that last one has been out of reach lately. He still has two more days to get the songs together, but he knows they'll be over in a heartbeat, and he can feel the slow build of panic lingering low in his gut. He considers asking how Kris is doing but a sideways look across the elevator tells him all he needs to know.
The elevator dings, counting each floor, and when the doors open, Adam holds back and lets Kris step out in front of him. Their rooms are beside each other, and they shuffle down the hallway together. Adam unlocks his door and looks over his shoulder, leaving his fingertips on the wood when he walks inside so that the door stays open in invitation. Kris follows him, and Adam lets his fingers slip away.
He fills the kettle with water in the bathroom and plugs it in on the top of the bar, setting two clean mugs right-side up. He turns on the humidifier, even though he knows that it won't be enough to fill the whole room with moisture, but it'll be ready for him when he finally crawls into bed.
Adam pours two spoonfuls of honey into each mug. He brought the spoon and the honey with him, and they sit on the counter beside the hotel's little coffeemaker, the packages of sugar and Sweet'N Low.
When the kettle finally whistles, Adam fills each glass most of the way to the top. He reaches into the minibar and pulls out a small bottle of whiskey. He holds it up, makes eye contact with Kris, and raises his eyebrows.
Kris stares for a minute. It seems to take him time to sort his thoughts all the way through. He finally looks over at Adam, his brows wrinkled together, like he can't decide. He shrugs one shoulder.
Adam puts the bottle back into the fridge. There's never a bad time for a Hot Toddy, but alcohol is drying and Adam's doing everything he can for his voice.
He stirs one mug, sets the spoon in the other one before passing the first over to Kris. Kris takes it between his open palms with a small nod and a smile. He raises the mug carefully to his mouth and blows steam away, his lips pursed and red like he's been chewing on them. Adam turns away and reaches for his own drink. The water's sweet, but it doesn't taste like much. The honey is soothing and the steam is good and Adam's been drinking these every night for a month because he thinks he should. After so many years of living on his own it's fucked up to be under curfew again. Fucked up to have to spend so much time thinking about what he should do.
As Adam leans back against the bar he watches Kris, standing still, small in an oversize t-shirt. Adam's skin feels slick with oil or sweat or make up, and he thinks that he's too tired to even wash his face right now. He's standing, he's drinking his hot water and honey: of course he'll be able to wash his face, but in this moment he feels like he doesn't even have the energy to move to the bed. Hotels always fold the sheets so tightly into the mattress and Adam misses the smell of his own laundry detergent, the feel of another body in bed with him.
He thinks that if it were anyone other than Kris in here with him, he'd make small talk, just a sentence or two, just something to break the silence, but he doesn't. They didn't speak for the whole ride back or while they were waiting outside for the car to pick them up. Adam wonders if Kris is consciously resting his voice or if he doesn't have anything to say or if the quiet in the room feels like a relief to him as well. Adam doesn't even let himself sing in the shower anymore, doesn't put on music when he's by himself because he's so used to singing along. The edges of his thumbs ache from texting, and there are a couple of messages that he still has to answer, but not right now, not tonight.
The humidifier hums beside Adam's bed, and when the air conditioning kicks in it's the loudest sound in the room. Kris slips slowly on his drink, holding it in his mouth before swallowing. He seems to be staring off into space, and Adam doesn't worry about watching him. It's nothing for Adam to be looking at Kris's skin because all he's thinking is how pale Kris looks. He notices the grey under Kris's eyes and the smoothness of his forehead, like Kris is too tired to even hold tension. Adam thinks about how Kris's skin would feel under his fingertips and then stops. That's not helpful. They spend so much time together and they're either in public or fully engaged in conversation, and just because Kris is Adam's type it doesn't mean that Adam ever forgets that Kris is married. The quiet of the hotel room is leaving too much room for other thoughts. Adam only clicked on the hall light, and the rest of the room is dark. It's hard to remember that when he pulls off his clothes, grimy after a full day's wear, and climbs into bed, Kris won't be following after him.
Adam reaches back to set his glass on the bar, but otherwise doesn't move, standing face to face with Kris, several feet separating them.
Kris's eyes shift over, and he looks up at Adam, holds his empty glass cradled to his stomach. Adam thinks that in the whole world, right now Kris is the only one who knows exactly what he's feeling, the only one who could be here with him, sharing space and saying nothing, his presence as tangible as a touch.
Kris's mouth would be warm and sweet from the honey. He looks pliant, like he'd tip back easily onto the mattress if Adam walked him over, like his arms would fall back, stretched out above his head, as he waited for Adam to crawl onto the bed as well. Kris wouldn't say anything, but Adam could straddle his hips and press a palm to his chest so that he could feel Kris breathe and then he could run his hand down and--
"It's getting late," Adam says, breaking the silence. "We've got a big day tomorrow." He sets his mug down on the counter, using a little extra force so that the glass knocks loudly against the wood.
Adam & Kris | PG-13 | ~1300 words
Kink Bingo: Silence
I wrote this months ago, and while I still don't know if it actually works the way I want it to, I'm finally going to post. I owe supergrover24 SO MANY THANK YOUs. She read this over about a million times, and I am so grateful to her. Thanks also to airgiodslv for giving this a final lookover. ♥!
Three days before the Top Two performance night and they get dropped off at the hotel late in the evening. Adam sags back against the mirrored wall of the elevator and breathes in deeply. The elevator is huge and there's room for another dozen people, easy, but it's just him and Kris.
The doors stay open and Adam blinks once before he realizes that neither of them have pressed the button yet. Kris seems to clue in at the same time, because they both start moving forward simultaneously. Kris steps back again when he sees that Adam's going for it, and settles himself into the corner of the elevator while Adam pushes the button for the fifteenth floor. Kris is just the right height to fit under Adam's arm, especially now when he's curled in on himself. It makes Adam want to move closer and that makes Adam think that he should move to the opposite end of the elevator, but he just stays where he is, in the centre where it's a straight line to the doors.
Adam needs to drink warm water and honey, plug in his humidifier, and then he needs to sleep, but that last one has been out of reach lately. He still has two more days to get the songs together, but he knows they'll be over in a heartbeat, and he can feel the slow build of panic lingering low in his gut. He considers asking how Kris is doing but a sideways look across the elevator tells him all he needs to know.
The elevator dings, counting each floor, and when the doors open, Adam holds back and lets Kris step out in front of him. Their rooms are beside each other, and they shuffle down the hallway together. Adam unlocks his door and looks over his shoulder, leaving his fingertips on the wood when he walks inside so that the door stays open in invitation. Kris follows him, and Adam lets his fingers slip away.
He fills the kettle with water in the bathroom and plugs it in on the top of the bar, setting two clean mugs right-side up. He turns on the humidifier, even though he knows that it won't be enough to fill the whole room with moisture, but it'll be ready for him when he finally crawls into bed.
Adam pours two spoonfuls of honey into each mug. He brought the spoon and the honey with him, and they sit on the counter beside the hotel's little coffeemaker, the packages of sugar and Sweet'N Low.
When the kettle finally whistles, Adam fills each glass most of the way to the top. He reaches into the minibar and pulls out a small bottle of whiskey. He holds it up, makes eye contact with Kris, and raises his eyebrows.
Kris stares for a minute. It seems to take him time to sort his thoughts all the way through. He finally looks over at Adam, his brows wrinkled together, like he can't decide. He shrugs one shoulder.
Adam puts the bottle back into the fridge. There's never a bad time for a Hot Toddy, but alcohol is drying and Adam's doing everything he can for his voice.
He stirs one mug, sets the spoon in the other one before passing the first over to Kris. Kris takes it between his open palms with a small nod and a smile. He raises the mug carefully to his mouth and blows steam away, his lips pursed and red like he's been chewing on them. Adam turns away and reaches for his own drink. The water's sweet, but it doesn't taste like much. The honey is soothing and the steam is good and Adam's been drinking these every night for a month because he thinks he should. After so many years of living on his own it's fucked up to be under curfew again. Fucked up to have to spend so much time thinking about what he should do.
As Adam leans back against the bar he watches Kris, standing still, small in an oversize t-shirt. Adam's skin feels slick with oil or sweat or make up, and he thinks that he's too tired to even wash his face right now. He's standing, he's drinking his hot water and honey: of course he'll be able to wash his face, but in this moment he feels like he doesn't even have the energy to move to the bed. Hotels always fold the sheets so tightly into the mattress and Adam misses the smell of his own laundry detergent, the feel of another body in bed with him.
He thinks that if it were anyone other than Kris in here with him, he'd make small talk, just a sentence or two, just something to break the silence, but he doesn't. They didn't speak for the whole ride back or while they were waiting outside for the car to pick them up. Adam wonders if Kris is consciously resting his voice or if he doesn't have anything to say or if the quiet in the room feels like a relief to him as well. Adam doesn't even let himself sing in the shower anymore, doesn't put on music when he's by himself because he's so used to singing along. The edges of his thumbs ache from texting, and there are a couple of messages that he still has to answer, but not right now, not tonight.
The humidifier hums beside Adam's bed, and when the air conditioning kicks in it's the loudest sound in the room. Kris slips slowly on his drink, holding it in his mouth before swallowing. He seems to be staring off into space, and Adam doesn't worry about watching him. It's nothing for Adam to be looking at Kris's skin because all he's thinking is how pale Kris looks. He notices the grey under Kris's eyes and the smoothness of his forehead, like Kris is too tired to even hold tension. Adam thinks about how Kris's skin would feel under his fingertips and then stops. That's not helpful. They spend so much time together and they're either in public or fully engaged in conversation, and just because Kris is Adam's type it doesn't mean that Adam ever forgets that Kris is married. The quiet of the hotel room is leaving too much room for other thoughts. Adam only clicked on the hall light, and the rest of the room is dark. It's hard to remember that when he pulls off his clothes, grimy after a full day's wear, and climbs into bed, Kris won't be following after him.
Adam reaches back to set his glass on the bar, but otherwise doesn't move, standing face to face with Kris, several feet separating them.
Kris's eyes shift over, and he looks up at Adam, holds his empty glass cradled to his stomach. Adam thinks that in the whole world, right now Kris is the only one who knows exactly what he's feeling, the only one who could be here with him, sharing space and saying nothing, his presence as tangible as a touch.
Kris's mouth would be warm and sweet from the honey. He looks pliant, like he'd tip back easily onto the mattress if Adam walked him over, like his arms would fall back, stretched out above his head, as he waited for Adam to crawl onto the bed as well. Kris wouldn't say anything, but Adam could straddle his hips and press a palm to his chest so that he could feel Kris breathe and then he could run his hand down and--
"It's getting late," Adam says, breaking the silence. "We've got a big day tomorrow." He sets his mug down on the counter, using a little extra force so that the glass knocks loudly against the wood.