fic: nobody expects the spanish inquisition (ai rpf, gen)
Title: Nobody Expects the Spanish Inquisition
Author: empressearwig
Pairing: None
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,175
Warnings: Boys being boys?
Disclaimer: I own nothing, this is all for fun. This didn’t happen. Etc.
Summary: #adamfarted
Author’s Notes: For normative_jean, who makes me write things that I would not otherwise. You'd better like this is all I'm saying.
A year ago, Kris was on his honeymoon.
Now he's riding around the country on a tour bus filled with a bunch of dudes, and someone just let one rip and it is disgusting
It's times like these when Kris really misses his wife. And his bed, though come to think of it, he's not even sure he even has a bed anymore. But all he wants is one uninterrupted night's sleep in a bed that isn't on a bus, with Katy by his side stealing the blankets the way she always does. If he could get that night's sleep in a space that isn't filled with all the weird smells and sounds he's come to associate with the guys, that'd be all the better. Seriously, he's been to third world countries, and he doesn't think he's ever smelled things as bad as he has in the last eight weeks.
If he smells like this all the time, Kris thinks he owes Katy and his mom some pretty huge apologies.
And now he's just mentally counting down till the accusations and denials start, because it doesn't matter how many times this happens (and it happens a lot with seven of them on one not nearly big enough bus), they always have to go through this. But frankly, this time Kris doesn't mind, because man, that was rank and he doesn't think he's going to be able to breathe right for the rest of the night.
It never fails that Matt will make the first comment, and from overhead, Matt demands, "Who the hell was that?"
And right on cue, Anoop chimes in next, "Scott, what the fuck did you eat, man?"
"It wasn't me!" Scott denies, but Kris has his doubts about that. Scott will eat anything, and they've all suffered for that on too many nights.
"Sarver?" Matt accuses next. "Was it you?"
"Why do you always assume it's me?" Michael sticks his head out from behind the curtain and looks down at Matt. "Gokey's the one that eats almost as much crap as Scott, not me."
"He has a point," Kris feels obliged to point out. God, if he'd known that referring arguments about gas came with the title of American Idol along with the world's worst song, he thinks he might have let Adam win.
"Fine," Matt says dramatically, and Kris wants to laugh, but he thinks that Matt might hurt him. Matt swivels his head towards Danny's bunk and asks, "Was it you?"
"No," Danny denies flatly. "Are you sure it wasn't you, Matty? You're the one that smelled it first. Whoever smelt it dealt it, man."
"What, are we in elementary school now?" Matt scoffs, glaring at Danny. "I have a sensitive nose, you know that. And it wasn't me. I'd have apologized, because that shit is rank."
"And don't even think of accusing me," Anoop says, pointing a finger Danny's way. "It sure as fuck wasn't me."
Which leaves him and Adam, Kris thinks, and shit. He's put up with a lot of crap about winning and he let himself be trapped in a bunk that's right over the wheel where he can feel every bump in the road, but he is not going to be tagged with the grossest smell that's ever hit the bus, including the night after Scott ate two three pound bean burritos. He has to take a stand somewhere. And if it has to be over a bad case of gas, so be it.
"It was not me," Kris says emphatically. "Adam? Something you want to confess to here, buddy?"
"You are all a bunch of neanderthals," Adam says with a disdainful sniff. "What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?"
"Nobody expects the Spanish Inquistion," Matt and Anoop say in chorus, and Kris doesn't know whether or not to laugh or groan. Only Monty Python could distract the two of them from their self-appointed job as fart high inquisitors.
"I think you're both missing the point," Scott interjects.
"Yeah," Michael adds, nodding his head. "I think you owe Scott and I apologies, dudes."
Matt turns his head towards Adam's bunk and narrows his eyes. "That was sort of an admission of guilt, wasn't it? I mean, there was no denial there was there, Anoop?"
"There wasn't," Anoop agrees. "I retract my question to Scott. Adam, what the fuck did you eat, man?"
"I refuse to dignify that question with a response," Adam says and Kris is close enough that he can see the tips of Adam's ears turning pink, a sure sign that he's geting ready to lie through his teeth.
"Man up, Lambert," Danny says, looking down at Adam. "If you don't, the two of them will never let it go."
"Why should we?" Matt argues. "That was vile. Can you breathe right now?"
"Yes, because I'm not a delicate little flower like you apparently are," Danny retorts.
"Well some of us didn't grow up on farms," Anoop says, wagging his finger at Danny.
"Just because I grew up in Wisconsin does not mean I grew up on a farm!" Danny exclaims. "How many times to I have to explain that?"
"A few more, apparently," Kris mutters under his breath. How do they even make it through their shows each night if they all have the attention span of gnats?
"What was that?" Matt narrows his eyes at Kris. "You aren't becoming a diva or anything are you, Mr. American Idol?"
"What?" Kris splutters. "That's clearly why I'm in a bunk that's a million times worse than all of yours and right under the person who let that rank mother fucker fly and I'm being called a diva?" He shakes his head. "Man, I owe my wife so many apologies."
"FINE," Adam says in a loud voice, redirecting all their attention back at him. "It was me. I'm sorry."
"I repeat, what the fuck did you eat, man?" Anoop asks. "Because you are not allowed to eat it again. And Kris, you're responsible for making sure he doesn't."
Now Kris does groan. "Why me?" Seriously, he should have let Adam win.
Danny snorts. "He's your tour wife, dude."
"Oh, for the love of god," Adam says, exasperation dripping off every word. "I'm a big boy, I can look after myself."
"This isn't for your own good," Matt explains, rolling his eyes at Adam. "It's for the rest of ours."
Kris wants to hit his head against something hard. Repeatedly. "Fine," he says resignedly. "I will be Adam's food monitor. Now can we try to go back to sleep? Scott, bust out your air freshener already, man, and let's be done with it."
He pulls his head back into his bunk and closes the curtain, not waiting to see if Scott did what he said, but soon enough the smell of Scott's tropical air freshener wafts through the air and Kris closes his eyes and tries to sleep.
He should send Katy flowers tomorrow, he thinks.
It's the least she deserves.
Author: empressearwig
Pairing: None
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,175
Warnings: Boys being boys?
Disclaimer: I own nothing, this is all for fun. This didn’t happen. Etc.
Summary: #adamfarted
Author’s Notes: For normative_jean, who makes me write things that I would not otherwise. You'd better like this is all I'm saying.
A year ago, Kris was on his honeymoon.
Now he's riding around the country on a tour bus filled with a bunch of dudes, and someone just let one rip and it is disgusting
It's times like these when Kris really misses his wife. And his bed, though come to think of it, he's not even sure he even has a bed anymore. But all he wants is one uninterrupted night's sleep in a bed that isn't on a bus, with Katy by his side stealing the blankets the way she always does. If he could get that night's sleep in a space that isn't filled with all the weird smells and sounds he's come to associate with the guys, that'd be all the better. Seriously, he's been to third world countries, and he doesn't think he's ever smelled things as bad as he has in the last eight weeks.
If he smells like this all the time, Kris thinks he owes Katy and his mom some pretty huge apologies.
And now he's just mentally counting down till the accusations and denials start, because it doesn't matter how many times this happens (and it happens a lot with seven of them on one not nearly big enough bus), they always have to go through this. But frankly, this time Kris doesn't mind, because man, that was rank and he doesn't think he's going to be able to breathe right for the rest of the night.
It never fails that Matt will make the first comment, and from overhead, Matt demands, "Who the hell was that?"
And right on cue, Anoop chimes in next, "Scott, what the fuck did you eat, man?"
"It wasn't me!" Scott denies, but Kris has his doubts about that. Scott will eat anything, and they've all suffered for that on too many nights.
"Sarver?" Matt accuses next. "Was it you?"
"Why do you always assume it's me?" Michael sticks his head out from behind the curtain and looks down at Matt. "Gokey's the one that eats almost as much crap as Scott, not me."
"He has a point," Kris feels obliged to point out. God, if he'd known that referring arguments about gas came with the title of American Idol along with the world's worst song, he thinks he might have let Adam win.
"Fine," Matt says dramatically, and Kris wants to laugh, but he thinks that Matt might hurt him. Matt swivels his head towards Danny's bunk and asks, "Was it you?"
"No," Danny denies flatly. "Are you sure it wasn't you, Matty? You're the one that smelled it first. Whoever smelt it dealt it, man."
"What, are we in elementary school now?" Matt scoffs, glaring at Danny. "I have a sensitive nose, you know that. And it wasn't me. I'd have apologized, because that shit is rank."
"And don't even think of accusing me," Anoop says, pointing a finger Danny's way. "It sure as fuck wasn't me."
Which leaves him and Adam, Kris thinks, and shit. He's put up with a lot of crap about winning and he let himself be trapped in a bunk that's right over the wheel where he can feel every bump in the road, but he is not going to be tagged with the grossest smell that's ever hit the bus, including the night after Scott ate two three pound bean burritos. He has to take a stand somewhere. And if it has to be over a bad case of gas, so be it.
"It was not me," Kris says emphatically. "Adam? Something you want to confess to here, buddy?"
"You are all a bunch of neanderthals," Adam says with a disdainful sniff. "What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?"
"Nobody expects the Spanish Inquistion," Matt and Anoop say in chorus, and Kris doesn't know whether or not to laugh or groan. Only Monty Python could distract the two of them from their self-appointed job as fart high inquisitors.
"I think you're both missing the point," Scott interjects.
"Yeah," Michael adds, nodding his head. "I think you owe Scott and I apologies, dudes."
Matt turns his head towards Adam's bunk and narrows his eyes. "That was sort of an admission of guilt, wasn't it? I mean, there was no denial there was there, Anoop?"
"There wasn't," Anoop agrees. "I retract my question to Scott. Adam, what the fuck did you eat, man?"
"I refuse to dignify that question with a response," Adam says and Kris is close enough that he can see the tips of Adam's ears turning pink, a sure sign that he's geting ready to lie through his teeth.
"Man up, Lambert," Danny says, looking down at Adam. "If you don't, the two of them will never let it go."
"Why should we?" Matt argues. "That was vile. Can you breathe right now?"
"Yes, because I'm not a delicate little flower like you apparently are," Danny retorts.
"Well some of us didn't grow up on farms," Anoop says, wagging his finger at Danny.
"Just because I grew up in Wisconsin does not mean I grew up on a farm!" Danny exclaims. "How many times to I have to explain that?"
"A few more, apparently," Kris mutters under his breath. How do they even make it through their shows each night if they all have the attention span of gnats?
"What was that?" Matt narrows his eyes at Kris. "You aren't becoming a diva or anything are you, Mr. American Idol?"
"What?" Kris splutters. "That's clearly why I'm in a bunk that's a million times worse than all of yours and right under the person who let that rank mother fucker fly and I'm being called a diva?" He shakes his head. "Man, I owe my wife so many apologies."
"FINE," Adam says in a loud voice, redirecting all their attention back at him. "It was me. I'm sorry."
"I repeat, what the fuck did you eat, man?" Anoop asks. "Because you are not allowed to eat it again. And Kris, you're responsible for making sure he doesn't."
Now Kris does groan. "Why me?" Seriously, he should have let Adam win.
Danny snorts. "He's your tour wife, dude."
"Oh, for the love of god," Adam says, exasperation dripping off every word. "I'm a big boy, I can look after myself."
"This isn't for your own good," Matt explains, rolling his eyes at Adam. "It's for the rest of ours."
Kris wants to hit his head against something hard. Repeatedly. "Fine," he says resignedly. "I will be Adam's food monitor. Now can we try to go back to sleep? Scott, bust out your air freshener already, man, and let's be done with it."
He pulls his head back into his bunk and closes the curtain, not waiting to see if Scott did what he said, but soon enough the smell of Scott's tropical air freshener wafts through the air and Kris closes his eyes and tries to sleep.
He should send Katy flowers tomorrow, he thinks.
It's the least she deserves.