knocking on your door (baby, baby, please now) - Kradam - NC17
Title: knocking on your door (baby, baby, please now)
Author: jeyhawk
Beta: drgaellon Thank you. <3
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. fic•tion noun 1. a literary work based on the imagination and not necessarily on fact, 2. a deliberately false or improbable account [syn: fabrication]
Pairing: Adam/Kris, mentions of Adam/OMC
Rating: NC17
Word Count: ~ 13,000
Summary: Future fic. Kris and Adam suffer from perpetually bad timing, but a near brush with death makes Kris realize that some things in life are worth fighting for.
Notes: This one's for my Kradio Benches. ILU guys. <3333 It's potatoe-free and thus safe for consumption, although I think you'll feel better if you just read it. Special thanks to mrsmaggiemae and darkeyes_02 for reading and cheerleading. <3
Cold, Kris is so cold. Logically, he knows he's burning up. He can feel his face radiating heat back at him from where it's buried in the pillows, but the chill is in his bones, making him shiver and twist against the sheets, trying to pull the covers tighter around his shoulders. He has things to do, he just got home after a two-month tour, but there's a deep-set ache in his bones, and he's just so tired.
He's pretty sure he should be feeling better by now. The last leg of the tour was hectic, but he's been on antibiotics for a week and he still feels like he's being pulled under. He closes his eyes and floats for a while, not sure if he's sleeping, unconscious, or awake. He can feel himself sinking, down, down, down, and that's what makes him move at last, forcing himself to stay awake while his hands scramble over the bed to find the phone he dropped onto the covers earlier.
Kris has been sick before, he's been really sick before, and he remembers this ledge between awake and unconscious where everything feels unreal and it doesn't matter if he ever wakes again. The pain when his fingers finally connect with the phone is sharp and unexpected, lifting the fog for a moment. He squints at the display trying to make sense of the floating numbers - it's later than he thought.
His fingertip shivers against the screen, it's cold, so cold, and he just wants to sleep some more, but he can't, not yet. He finally gets it to work, pressing the phone against his ear harder than he should; he needs the edge of pain to keep from floating away.
"Hey." Adam's voice is soft and low, maybe Kris woke him up, or maybe he's somewhere he can't really talk. Kris doesn't remember what time it is, even if he did just look at the watch.
"Adam," he croaks and he doesn't even know what to say. "I need... Come... Please."
"Shit. I'm on my way... Where are you? Are you home?"
Kris closes his eyes, just for a second and when he wakes up Adam is shouting at him through the phone.
"Kris... goddammit... Kris. Wake up."
"I'm here," he says, hopefully out loud. Everything is floating and it's so hard to focus.
"I'll be there in five minutes, okay. Just stay awake."
Adam's voice is tight with worry and Kris wants to tell him he's fine, but words seem to be slipping away from him again. He clings to the sound of Adam's voice; he's alternating between shouting at Kris and shouting at someone else, probably Ash. Kris would feel bad, if he wasn't so tired. He likes Ash, at least that's what he keeps telling himself, and he doesn't want Adam to shout at him because of Kris.
"Adam," he whispers and then he's floating again. He can hear Adam's voice, but it's so far away that it's not enough to anchor him anymore. He's shipwrecked, drifting on an ocean of could-have-beens and would-have-beens, wanting without purpose, needing without knowledge. He thinks he's a song sung in the lower register - slow and dragging - guitar strums making up his name.
Then Adam's right there, hands hot, so hot, on his shoulders, shaking him awake. Adam curses under his breath a constant stream of fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck but Kris is pretty sure there's no intent behind it. He blinks up at Adam, mouth stretching into a smile.
"You came," he says, voice weak and breaking.
"Of course I did," Adam says. He sounds calm, collected, but there's panic shining out of his wide open eyes.
Kris finds himself being scooped up from the bed, half wrapped in the covers. His head lolls against Adam's shoulder and the jarring movement sends a shock of pain through his body. He opens his eyes again, not sure when he closed them, and sees Ash in the doorway, an inscrutable look on his face. Ash is pretty, slim and clean cut, exactly the type of guy Adam always dates.
"Did you take something?" Adam asks curtly.
Kris opens his mouth a couple of times, but then he just shakes his head. The movement makes him feel as if he's under water, floating, floating, floating.
When he next opens his eyes, he's in Adam's lap, face tucked safely into the crook of Adam's neck. He smells like expensive cologne and desperation; Kris likes it. Adam's voice is laden with anger when he speaks, but the arms surrounding Kris are gentle, so very gentle. He tries words, but they die against Adam's skin, so he tangles his fingers in Adam's shirt, just holding on.
The chill of night time air is what wakes Kris up next, just as his back connects with a gurney. He stares in wide-eyed confusion at the faces surrounding him. Adam is still there, face pale, hollow somehow, and Jennifer his PA, is trying to get his attention. Her lips are moving without making any sound, or maybe she does, maybe that's the grating whine in his head. He's not sure. There are no star constellations spanning Adam's face and Kris is gone again.
He wakes up in a hospital bed. He thinks that this time he's awake for real: the lights are too bright and his left hand aches. He closes his eyes again and tries to sort through the last of what he can remember. Mostly he remembers Adam, but there are other things too, coming home to a too-empty house, crashing into bed, the dreams and images that kept rolling through his head. Remembering hurts, so he opens his eyes again, blinking up at the ceiling.
There's a slight sound and he shifts his eyes. The minute movement makes him feel woozy, but it doesn't pull him under again, so he supposes he's better. Adam is sitting next to the bed, his fingers clutching Kris's left hand, and his lips moving without a sound coming out. He doesn't seem to have noticed that Kris is awake.
He takes in the thick coat of foundation on Adam's face, the smeared eyeliner, and the fancy suit. Adam must have had somewhere to be tonight, and Kris should feel guilty for calling him. He lets his eyes wander around the room briefly. He's hooked up to an IV, and the walls are a soothing green color. Ash is nowhere to be seen.
Adam bends forward, pressing his face against the back of Kris's hand, and suddenly Kris can hear his voice, a broken litany of please, please, please, please. The tone of his voice hurts, and Kris licks his lips, trying to think of something to say. Adam's head jerks up at the sound, eyes catching Kris's.
He changes his tune to thank you, thank you, thank you; Kris thinks it makes a pretty song even if the record is broken. He tries a little smile, and Adam pays him back in thousands. It feels good.
"I think I'm high," Kris says, his voice sounds thick and raspy, but at least he can speak now.
Adam makes a sound that lands halfway between a laugh and a sob, and tightens his fingers around Kris's hand even more. It hurts, but it's a good hurt, keeping him in the present.
"I don't even know what they gave you, man," Adam says, sounding delirious, elated. "Something for the fever, I think, and antibiotics."
Kris smiles, because the floaty feeling is back in his head, but it's not a scary floaty. "I love you," he says, and it feels good.
"You're definitely high," Adam responds and he sounds indulgent, as if Kris doesn't mean what he's saying. Adam knows Kris loves him and they both know that the kind of 'love you' Kris just spoke is not about friendship, not even close.
Ash, Kris thinks, pulling his eyes away from Adam's intense gaze. Adam's got Ash and Kris is not that guy, neither of them is, and that has been their problem from day one. Sometimes Kris wishes Adam could see right into him, see the want and need and love he can't ever express in words. Then he thinks that maybe Adam can, no one ever understood him like Adam, and that all those things are just not enough.
"Clocks," Kris says, which is really not what he meant at all, but his mind is tripping out on some farfetched allegory on timing and time and how they don't have it.
Adam snorts. "I'm gonna call for a nurse, okay?" he says, voice soft.
Adam eases his grip on Kris's hand and Kris's fingers prickle when the blood comes rushing back. Somehow, he wishes Adam would have held on.
*
The nurse is pretty and the doctor she brings looks stern. He listens to their words, but they don't align right in his head. Every now and then, his eyes stray to Adam just to see if he gets it and he probably does because he's listening in rapt fascination, fingers tightening on Kris's hand again. What Kris manages to take from the conversation is that fact that his fever went way, way up, that the antibiotics he was on were not strong enough to battle the infection, and also that he's a dumbass for not cutting his tour short.
They're going to keep him in the hospital for a couple of days, and then he will be on bed rest at home for at least another two weeks until his blood work comes out clear, at which point they will give him clearance to start working again. Maybe. Then they go on to threaten him with big words like sepsis and death, but Kris tunes them out, watching the emotions flicker over Adam's face.
Once the speech is over, they fuss over him, taking his blood pressure, measuring his temperature, and checking the IV. The pretty nurse keeps glancing at Adam and Kris wonders what kind of stories will end up in the papers tomorrow.
"Everything looks good, Mr. Allen," the nurse says and her eyes slide over Adam again. "We'll keep you in the ICU over night, but you'll probably be moved to a regular floor tomorrow."
Kris nods. He doesn't like the way she's looking at Adam.
"Uhm..." She looks uncertain. "We normally don't let anyone outside the immediate family visit... We made an exception for you, Mr. Lambert, but..."
"He's staying," Kris says. "Or I'm leaving."
She swallows and he knows he just put her in an awkward spot, but he doesn't care.
"Adam is family," he says.
She nods, looking uncomfortable.
"Just give me a few minutes, and I'll be out of your hair," Adam says, giving her a smile that makes her blush.
Kris wants to protest. He wants to throw a right tantrum, he's sick, dammit, and he should be allowed to keep Adam forever, but Adam obviously had somewhere to be and Kris should learn how to let him go. The nurse leaves and they're alone again. Adam unclenches his hand, but he doesn't let go. Kris thinks that's a good sign, but for what he doesn't know.
"I called your mom," Adam says. "They'll be here tomorrow morning."
Kris nods slightly, he figured as much. Adam sighs and this time he does let go of Kris's hand.
"You scared me," he says, and his voice sounds oddly flat. "If you hadn't called..."
Adam shakes his head and rubs a hand over his face, smudging his eyeliner even more. Kris wants to touch him, but his limbs are too heavy to move.
"Adam..." he says, but he doesn't know how that sentence ends. He's been struggling to finish it for years now, but there's never a good time.
"Don't," Adam says and it sounds like rejection. "I have to go."
He jumps up from the chair, towering over the bed, looking like he doesn't know what part of Kris is safe to touch, if any. He finally settles on Kris's shoulder, fingers lingering for just a second before he pulls his hand away.
"Get better," he says, and it's clearly an order. "We'll talk, okay?"
Kris doesn't even have time to answer before Adam's moving towards the door.
"Adam," he says, and Adam stops, back still turned towards the bed. "Do you think the time will ever be right for this conversation?"
Adam shakes his head mutely, just a slight rustle of his hair, but it hits Kris straight in the chest.
"Tell Ash I said thanks," Kris whispers and his mouth tastes like despair.
The door closes behind Adam and Kris sleeps.
*
The next two weeks are filled with family, friends, more ranting than Kris has ever heard in his life, and no Adam. It's a sad testament to the state of his feelings that 'no Adam' is what matters most. He loves his family, and they're taking good care of him, but not hearing Adam's voice every day just feels wrong. He thinks about calling so many times, but he's the one that put it out there this time, which means that the ball's in Adam's court. They've played this game before.
The tabloids have a field day with his illness, and the internet is filled to the brim with rumors of him being in rehab. No one seems to have leaked Adam's involvement in his rescue, so everything is quiet on that front. Kris sends out a few tweets to thank his fans for their concern on his behalf, and to tell everyone he's doing better. He thinks it's the first time one of his tweets has been mentioned on the news.
Bed rest is no fun, and his mother fussing over him as if he's five years old is also no fun. He loves her and he wouldn't have her any other way, but he's a grown man, and he feels like he's been wrapped up in a cocoon of scented cotton. Daniel provides necessary comic relief for a week, but then he has to get back to the real world and Kris is alone with his mother again.
"You seem so sad, sweetie," his mom says one night, coming to sit on the bed next to Kris.
"I miss Adam," he answers, staring intently at the wall. He thinks she knows how he feels about Adam, but they've never talked about it.
"Why don't you just call him?" she asks.
He shakes his head slightly, not sure how to answer. "It's complicated."
She sighs, moving up onto the bed, resting her back against the headboard and crossing her legs neatly at the ankle.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Kris shrugs. He's not sure he can talk about it, especially with his mother. He loves her and he knows she'll support him no matter what, but he doesn’t know how to put everything he feels about Adam into words; he can't make sense of his own thoughts.
"I'll start then," she says, resting a hand on top of his on the covers. "I think that, on some level, I've known you were in love with Adam for years, but it didn't sink in until Katy's wedding."
Kris blinks, he can hardly remember Katy's wedding. He didn't get ridiculously drunk and make a fool out of himself until afterwards, but the memories of her big day got sucked into the void of his aching head the morning after. Thinking about it always makes him feel like shit.
"I had my eyes on you that whole day, but you seemed to really be okay with it, as if you were genuinely happy for her."
"I am," Kris murmurs. His freak out after the wedding had nothing to do with losing the last fragile tie between him and Katy, and everything to do with Adam.
"I know you are," she says, petting his hand. "But you weren't happy about Ash."
Kris swallows. He can't believe he was that transparent. Even Adam didn't get it until Kris spelled it out in vomit and tears, and even then, he seemed confused, as if he didn't really understand what Kris was saying.
"I didn't expect him," Kris says, eyes focused on the ceiling, and it's the truth. Adam told Kris he was bringing a date, but somehow Kris figured it would be someone he knew, that Adam would bring a plus one just to deflect the talk. He didn't expect that Adam would be all starry-eyed and in love. He didn't expect Ash, but he stayed, and Kris thinks that maybe he should just let go.
"Your time will come," she says, squeezing his fingers for a moment, and Kris wants to ask how she knows that, how she can possibly know, but words never seemed to fit into this whole situation. "You should sleep," she continues, bending down to press a kiss to his forehead. "Tomorrow is another day."
Kris feels lonely when she leaves, like his bed is too big for him alone. He lets his eyes slip shut and indulges in a fantasy of Adam crawling into bed with him. It's not even sexual, just Adam's lips against the back of his neck and Adam's arms strong and tight around him. Kris reaches levels of pathetic Adam's fans can only dream of.
*
The news hits the blogs on a Thursday night and Kris just won't leave his computer. He's feeling much better, he's been up and walking, taking care of himself, for days, writing songs and doing phone interviews, but if he has to, he'll pull the sick card to watch this train wreck forever. His fingers are itching to call Adam and he would, if he just got even the slightest inclination that this has anything to do with him.
Unfortunately, no one seems to have gotten a comment from Adam, and his Twitter account is as silent as the grave. There are just rumors, waves and waves of rumors, about Adam and Ash breaking up. Normally, Kris wouldn't even believe it, but the blogs don't all have the same source, and there are pictures of moving vans outside Adam's house, and of Adam and Ash clearly captured in an argument. There are even recent pictures of Ash with another man, so if the relationship wasn't over to begin with, it might very well be now.
Kris feels like the suckiest friend in the world, watching it all go down on the Internet, but he can't help it, caught between hope and agony, and his fans are helping in his obsession by Tweeting him link after link about Adam's supposed break up. He kind of wants to thank them, but that would really paint him in an unflattering light.
A lot of Adam's fans seem to be in turmoil. Adam and Ash have been together for two years, and not all of them are still holding out hope for Kradam to be real. Actually, Kris doesn't know if anyone is but him, but he still reads through all the comments on the gossip blogs. He's a sad human being.
There's finally confirmation at 3 am, in the form of a curt tweet from Adam that simply says: Yes, it's true. Kris's heart aches, thinking about Adam being awake and plagued by reporters, but it also makes him feel closer to him somehow. He debates whether or not to reply to Adam's tweet for a full ten minutes before he finally writes out: I'm sorry, man. and hits reply. He doesn't care what people might say about that. He wants Adam to know he cares and he wants it to be out there. He's tired of being subtle.
He gets his response in the form of a phone call fifteen minutes later when he's finally shut down the computer, intent on going to bed with this weird, elated-but-sad feeling in his chest.
"You should be in bed," Adam says, when Kris picks up. It's a very typical Adam greeting.
"I'm on my way," Kris answers, tucking the phone against his ear while he wiggles out of his jeans. He should have never let himself be talked into wearing tighter clothes; he misses the days when undressing didn't include wiggling.
"You feeling better now?"
"Yeah," Kris says, picking his jeans up from the floor and tossing them on a chair. "Took my last antibiotic pill a few days ago, and I'm going back for blood work on Monday. Hopefully I'll get the all clear."
"Your mom kept me updated, but it's never the same, you know?"
Kris does know, and he thinks it sucks. He just spent hours sifting through the Internet for news about his best friend.
"So how are you?" Kris asks, because they're not going to spend the entire conversation sidestepping the elephant.
"I'm... good, I think. I feel kind of hollow right now. Guess it hasn't really sunk in."
Kris wants to ask more, he wants to know everything, but there's a time and a place, and he's pretty sure that's not right now, because it never is.
"I missed you," he says instead as he crawls into bed.
"I missed you, too," Adam responds, easy and natural.
Just hearing his voice is making Kris feel so much better; he was going through some serious Adam withdrawal. He takes it upon himself to lead the conversation into safe territory and starts telling Adam about this song he wrote while still in his sick bed. The conversation meanders from there and soon they're just talking, like they always do, about meaningless nonsense, music, and life.
At some point, Kris starts drifting, caught somewhere between asleep and awake; it seems to be a reoccurring thing when it comes to Adam. Adam is telling a story about some party he went to and he certainly doesn't need Kris's input. The vague hums he manages every now and then are enough to keep Adam going. Kris can almost see him in his mind, phone pressed to his ear and one hand waving around in the air. In his mind, Adam's on his bed, sitting cross-legged with his back against the headboard and the TV on mute in the background. He figures it's not far from the truth-Adam does love his bed.
"Are you asleep?" Adam asks suddenly, and Kris realizes his vague humming along must have tapered off some time ago.
"Almost," he admits, voice thick and heavy with sleep.
"I should let you sleep," Adam says and he sounds odd. It's a good odd, that makes Kris think of things he really shouldn't be thinking of when he's in bed with Adam talking straight into his ear, but it's still odd.
"Adam," he says, and he can tell by the way Adam's name catches and drags on his tongue that's he's about to talk about things he shouldn't talk about. He should really work on having better control of his words when he's half asleep.
"Don't," Adam responds, too fast, and Kris is getting really tired of rejection. "I just... I need some time, okay? Just some time."
He doesn't say wait for me but that's what Kris hears. It doesn't even matter if that's not what Adam means, he'll wait forever if he has to.
"Yeah," Kris says, and his eyes are stinging with lack of sleep. "Yeah."
*
Somehow Kris didn't think I need time would translate into another three weeks of complete radio silence, but apparently that's what Adam meant. He tries to be okay with it, but his fingers are constantly itching just to call Adam. He regrets never putting Adam's PA, Elisa, on his payroll, because he's certain Adam pays Jennifer more than he does and that Adam knows what color underwear he's wearing at any given moment. He wants to know the color of Adam's underwear, dammit. Even if Elisa is always nice and chatty and knows to put Kris through to Adam, that doesn't matter much when he's not supposed to call.
Logically, he knows he did the same thing after his divorce was final and the news hit media. They exchanged a few messages but they didn't actually talk for almost a month. Kris didn't actually anything for almost a month, which included getting out of bed. He really hopes Adam doesn't do that; it sucked and he dropped fifteen pounds. He doesn't want Adam to lose weight; he's perfect just as he is.
At least he's got work to distract him since his blood work came back all clear, which is a really good thing or he'd be climbing the walls at home. Jennifer keeps his schedule pretty light, though, so he's very grateful when they start up with the band rehearsals in preparation for the Grammys. He's so used to drowning his emotions in work that he doesn't know how to deal otherwise.
They're performing "Reverie," the smash hit from his second album that he wrote after his divorce and that everyone interpreted as being about Katy. He supposes it is, in a way, but in his mind, it's all about Adam. He was in such a weird place the first few months after his divorce. Once he was brave enough to pick up the phone and actually talk to Adam again, he had to forcibly stop himself from using Adam as a crutch.
The entire song just came to him late one night after spending hours on the phone with Adam, and it's a straight up declaration of love. There's a bittersweet note to it, which is probably why everyone thinks it's about Katy, but it's not like realizing he was in love with his best friend was an easy thing to come to terms with.
It's a bit too pensive a song for such a huge show as the Grammys though, so Kris and Cale get into a discussion about how to heat it up without losing the feel of it. It's not exactly an argument, but as always when their opinions differ, it gets kind of loud. It doesn't really help that Kris has a hard time focusing on talking about the song, when he's thinking about how to introduce it.
They're doing some sort of work on the stage that they're on and their voices keeps being overshadowed by random bangs and the sound of drilling, so, of course, they get even louder. Kris even lets go of his sweet fantasy about telling the world that he wrote "Reverie" for Adam, in favor of waving his hands in Cale's face. He's known Cale since forever and he loves him like a brother, but he's completely wrong about the piano line.
Then someone yells LOOK OUT, just before something big and heavy knocks them over. Kris lands on his left arm, and he's pretty sure he can actually hear it crack when he connects with the floor, but maybe that's just his ear getting friendly with the floorboards. People come running from every direction and Kris blinks a couple of times, trying to see what happened to Cale.
Then the speaker, because apparently 'big and heavy' was a speaker, is being lifted, and pain shoots through Kris's left arm. Cale seems to be fine, crouching by Kris's side, and he thinks it's kind of annoying that they're all looking at him like he's dying.
"Don't move," Cale says, face pale with worry. "An ambulance is on its way."
"Ambulance?" Kris frowns. Something wet is dripping into his ear and his arm hurts like a bitch, but he doesn't need an ambulance.
He tries to sit up, only to be pushed down again by about ten helpful hands. What is wrong with people? He blinks a couple more times, looking up at the ceiling, miles above them. His head aches and his arm is on fire. This is not how he planned for his day to go.
Someone brings a towel and presses it to his temple and when it's lifted for a moment it comes away red with blood. Kris frowns at the blood and lift his right hand to gently probe at his forehead. It's slick with blood and there's a bump forming just above his left eyebrow.
"Don't touch," Jennifer hisses, capturing his hand.
Kris wants to tell her not to call Adam, but it's not just the band surrounding him. He recognizes one of the promoters, a couple of stage hands, and a completely livid press agent standing a little to the side shouting into his phone. He doesn't need to address the fact that his PA works for Adam in front a bunch of strangers. It might possibly look a bit weird.
"How are you feeling?" Cale asks, hand tight against Kris's shoulder.
"My arm hurts, my head throbs, and there's blood dripping into my ear. Other than that I'm good," Kris answers with a slight smile.
Cale laughs and squeezes Kris's shoulder. "You're probably right about the piano line..."
"Damn right, I am," Kris mutters. It doesn't matter that Cale's only backing down because he feels guilty. It's Kris's song, so he deserves to win that argument.
The ambulance finally shows up and the paramedics make a real show of checking Kris over before loading him onto the gurney. He still wants to protest the VIP treatment for what he suspects is just a broken arm and a cut on his forehead, but he supposes it's not really about him being hurt as much as the venue avoiding being sued.
The ambulance is parked at one of the back entrances, but it's still surrounded by paparazzi and Kris is carried out to a chorus of flashes. He locks eyes with Jennifer for a moment and she nods, understanding what he's saying without him having to say it. Call them all before they see this on the news.
*
The first two hours of the hospital visit seem to go on forever and everything hurts. Then they give him a shot of the good stuff and time moves even slower, but he no longer cares. He wonders if he should have told them pain medication stronger than Tylenol usually makes him loopy.
All in all, it takes four hours before he's sitting at the edge of his bed, trying to make sense of the doctor's last-minute instructions. She's wearing a pearl necklace and his eyes keeps trying to follow it around her neck. He got his left arm in a cast and a neat row of butterfly bandages on his forehead. The blood slowly dries on his shirt and he thinks he can smell the sugary metallic tang of it.
He jerks his head up when there's some commotion outside and the door is yanked open, revealing Adam. He's being followed by a number of people in white coats telling him he's not allowed, but Kris cannot stop smiling. He smiles so widely he's pretty sure his face would hurt if he could still feel it, but Adam isn't smiling back.
"What the fuck, Kris?" he asks, and he sounds angry, as if Kris had someone drop a speaker on him on purpose.
"Adam," Kris says, because that's pretty much the only thing he can think of, still smiling.
Adam ignores the people trying to stop him, moving closer to the bed, and Kris sees Jennifer jump up to explain it's all right. It's a good thing she's on his team, because seeing Adam again has pretty much robbed him of even his ability to breathe. He didn't realize how much he missed Adam until just now. He wonders how Adam always looks larger than life; it's not like he's really that tall, unless you compare him to Kris.
"Fuck," Adam says, low and rough, reaching out to place a hand against the side of Kris's face.
Kris is still smiling, hoping, wanting and he reaches up to curl his good hand around Adam's elbow, keeping his fingers against his face. Adam's other hand skates over Kris's cheek and temple to flitter around the Band-Aid covering the tape. His fingers are cold and clammy and Kris wishes he could warm them.
He wants to pull Adam closer and have his arms wrap around him. He wants to tuck his face into the crook of Adam's neck and just stay there forever. Of course, the universe has other plans and instead of moving closer, Adam moves away. Kris is pretty sure he makes some kind of protest, because Adam gives him a half smile and sits down on the bed next to him. Half a smile is better than no smile at all, and then Adam's hand curls around his knee and Kris feels a lot better about everything.
The doctor looks kind of flustered under Adam's scrutiny, but whatever Jennifer said must have worked because she doesn't question his inclusion. Adam produces a notebook from somewhere, and when the doctor starts over with her instructions, Adam takes notes. It's a good thing, too, because Kris is busy looking at Adam's hands and the side of his face, zoning out on the doctor's words.
Eventually the doctor is done with her instructions and she wishes a Kris a speedy recovery. Kris smiles and shakes her hand, making her cheeks flush. She's an attractive woman, probably about his age and there's no ring on her hand. Kris wonders when he stopped noticing these things. He hasn't been on a date in forever.
Then Adam puts a hand between his shoulder blades and he remembers why. No one else measures up. He thinks that it's kind of fucked up that he's the one reaching for it with all his might, but maybe that's the way it has to be, the only way it can be. He's not stupid; he knows the gay handbook says, "Don't date straight guys," but he's not straight, and Adam's an idiot if he can't see that.
"Hearts in my eyes," he mumbles, looking up at Adam.
Adam raises an eyebrow and the corners of his mouth tilts upwards. "You're funny when you're high," he says.
Kris kind of wants to throttle him, but he's pretty sure that would make his arm hurt again, so he lets himself be steered into a wheelchair instead. There's no use protesting that there's nothing wrong with his legs; he knows these people, and there's no way they're going to let him walk.
It's dark outside when he's wheeled out to the parking lot, but the flashes of a hundred cameras certainly light things up. He can hear people shouting questions at him from several directions, but he's busy craning his neck looking for Adam. Adam isn't there and his life officially sucks again. He gets out of the wheelchair and into Jennifer's car with his mouth clamped shut. He's so not answering any questions right now.
"Adam's meeting us at the house," Jennifer says, giving Kris a sideways look.
"Oh." Kris smiles, Adam didn't abandon him after all.
"And you should call your mother, Katy, and pretty much everyone else you know."
Kris nods; he figured as much.
"Helen penned a statement to release to the press. She wondered if she should put down that you're going ahead with the Grammy appearance as planned."
"Uh... I suppose," Kris says, looking out the window. He hadn't even thought of that yet, but the Grammys are two weeks away, and there's nothing wrong with his voice.
"Good."
Kris turns his head to look at her. Jennifer's been with him forever now, ever since he got onto this wild roller coaster ride. She's a slight woman, with mousy brown hair and librarian glasses perched on her pointed nose. She knows things about him he doesn't think even Adam knows, and there's no doubt in his mind she'll stay loyal to the end.
"I'm in love with Adam," he says, and it's strangely liberating to say it out loud.
A smile ghosts over her lips, and she glances at him. "I know."
He smiles back and rests his head against the window. Maybe it will all work out in the end.
*
Strangely, there are no paparazzi guarding the gates to his home, or if there are, they're really good at hiding. Kris doesn't care much, because he spots Adam's car in the driveway and his heart does a double take. Adam drives the same car he does; the only things setting them apart are the license plates; he never thought of it before, but maybe Adam did that on purpose.
"I'm gonna get your prescriptions filled," Jennifer says, as Kris opens the door to get out. "I'll be back later."
"Thanks," Kris says, giving her a smile, even if he's already moving towards the front door in his mind.
Kris's house is a sprawling bungalow with a huge garden. It's really way too big for just him, but he wanted a place with impressive walls and a sturdy gate and this was the least obnoxious house he could find. The front door is painted a pleasing shade of blue and he always feels as if he can finally breathe when it closes behind him.
Breathing might be an issue today, though, because Adam's waiting for him in the hallway, dressed down in a black Zeppelin shirt and skinny black jeans. Kris looks at Adam's sock-clad feet, and his breath gets stuck in his throat. He wonders if he's always going to feel like this.
"You disappeared," he says and it's an accusation, but not quite.
Adam doesn't answer and when he looks up, Adam's watching him with his bottom lip stuck between his teeth, eyes locked on Kris's blood-stained shirt.
"Shit," Adam says, and then Kris gets the hug he's been waiting for.
Adam just reaches out and pulls Kris into him, crushing him against his chest. Kris moves his stupid cast out of the way and buries his face against Adam's t-shirt, letting himself be held.
"Don't you dare do that to me ever again," Adam says, clutching Kris even tighter. "You hear me?"
Kris is about to protest that he certainly doesn't do these things on purpose, but Adam doesn't let him get a word in edgewise.
"Jen called me before I saw... but Jesus fuck, Kris... You looked so fucking out of it and there was blood everywhere and fuck..."
Kris's ribs are starting to complain under the strain of Adam's worry, but he doesn't want Adam to let him go. Adam's shoulder is solid under his cheek and it's so easy to close his eyes and just let himself exist in the moment. Eventually Adam's grip does ease up and he pushes Kris with a firm grip of his shoulders.
"I'm making you dinner," he says. "And you better change out of that shirt."
Kris wants to point out that sounds a lot like a date, but he doesn't want Adam to get awkward and leave, so he keeps his mouth shut. He wouldn't want to miss out on the food. He hasn't eaten since lunch. Adam uses his grip on Kris's shoulders to propel him forward and Kris follows easily. He doesn't mind following Adam's lead, never has; Adam can lead him wherever he wants.
"Go change," Adam orders, giving Kris a little push in the right direction.
Kris misses the weight of Adam's hands as soon as they're gone, but he moves towards his room on autopilot. He really wants a shower. He smells like a curious mix of antiseptic and blood, and it's really not a good combination, but he doesn't know if he can make the shower thing work for him with the cast and the stitches.
As it turns out, he can't even work the getting-out-of-his-shirt thing. They ripped the bottom of the sleeve to make room for the cast and he thought the rest of the arm would just slip right over it, but apparently it's still too tight, and he ends up with the shirt stuck around his cast. He manages to get the rest of his clothes off, leaving the boxers for now, and heads for the kitchen. He needs a pair of scissors to get the stupid shirt off and a bag to wrap his cast. The butterflies are covered by a plastic Band-Aid, so that should be fine.
Adam looks up when he enters the kitchen and promptly drops the spoon he's holding, along with his jaw. Kris realizes, a little belatedly, what it might look like.
"I need help," he says holding his cast and the dangling shirt up. "It's too tight."
Adam seems to get a grip on himself and nods. Kris thinks it's kind of amusing that Adam is trying really hard not to look at him while looking at him.
"You lost so much weight," Adam says and his voice is soft and serious.
Kris did drop almost ten pounds while he was sick, and it's been hard work putting them back on when his schedule doesn't really allow for regular eating. He's working on it though; he doesn't like it when his skinny jeans become baggy. He's gotten so used to the skinnier fit that he thinks there's a draft when he wears baggy ones.
"I'll put it back on," Kris promises.
Adam gets the scissor from above the sink and moves closer. He curls his hand loosely around Kris's arm just above the cast and raises the scissors. Kris shivers; Adam's fingers are warm against his skin and he just wants to move closer. He wants Adam to forget about the scissors and the stupid shirt and just pull Kris to his chest.
Adam licks his lips and shifts his grip as he begins to cut. The scissor is sharp and the shredded remains of the shirt fall away easily, landing in a heap at their feet. He doesn't let go though, fingers tight around Kris's arm, and Kris steps closer. The air between them feels charged with energy, heavy and crackling. Adam's got his eyes fixed on where he's holding Kris's arm and Kris just wants his attention. He wants Adam to look at him and just see everything.
"Fuck," Adam says, letting Kris's arm go and taking a step back. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
He scrubs his hands over his face, probably messing up his makeup, and makes a choked little sound.
"I can't do this, Kris," he says. "I really can't."
Somehow, Kris had never thought they'd end up having this conversation in his kitchen with pasta sauce splattered over the floor and him in his underwear. In fact, he'd hoped they would never have to have it at all. Everything else between them is so natural and flawless, so why not this?
"Adam," he says, and Adam jerks his head up, giving Kris a wild look. He looks very much like a spooked horse, ready to bolt at any second, and Kris really wishes he knew why this is so hard. He feels like he's got cotton stuffed in his head, and his arm is beginning to hurt again, and he just wishes he could find the right things to say, because this whole situation sucks.
"Just look me in the eyes and tell me you don't want this, and I'll stop pushing for it," Kris finally says. "It'll break my heart, but if that's truly what you want, I'll back down."
Adam doesn't look up; he's got his head in his hands again and he keeps shaking it back and forth, as if Kris isn't even making sense. Kris makes perfect sense; it's Adam that's being senseless.
"So here's the thing," Kris says, because either Adam needs convincing or he just enjoys hearing Kris make a fool of himself. "I'm so utterly and stupidly in love with you that I don't even know what to do with myself. How the fuck can you not see that?"
Adam is still shaking his head and Kris kind of wants to use his cast to knock some sense into him. He doesn't even know what he'll do if Adam tells him he doesn't want this. Never once has he seriously considered that Adam isn't interested. But Adam isn't saying anything and Kris has got his heart lodged in his throat. Maybe the reason Adam keeps deflecting the question is because he doesn't know how to let Kris down gently. Just because Adam's gay, it doesn't automatically mean he's in love with Kris.
The silence stretches out and Kris realizes he can now count it in minutes, not in seconds, and his chest constricts painfully. There's a very real chance he just put an end to their friendship and he doesn't even think he can blame the drugs.
"Shit," he hisses, because he needs to make this better. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have... Let's just pretend I never said anything, okay? Let's just... just..."
Kris doesn't even know where to go on from there. What can he possibly say to take it back when he means every word?
"You don't even know what you're asking for," Adam says and he sounds angry. He finally looks up and his eyes are blazing with something Kris can't even begin to understand. "You think you want this, but you're not gonna want it two months from now when the media is ripping your life apart, pestering your friends, calling Katy at three am to ask her how she feels about this. Jesus fucking Christ, Kris, you just have no idea."
Adam's an idiot if he doesn't think Kris has considered this and decided it's worth it. Actually, Adam's an idiot no matter what for scaring Kris like that.
"It's worth it," Kris says, low and even, because he really wants Adam to understand this. "I don't care if they call my pastor, or if the paps hang like Christmas ornaments from my trees. It's worth it."
Adam's shaking his head again, but he looks bewildered, as if he can't believe that Kris is for real. Kris decides to hit him with a cheap shot, because this is important and he can be petty when he wants to be.
"I could have died twice in the last two months," he says softly, and he doesn't actually get any further before Adam's cursing and laughing and pulling Kris into his arms.
"You tiny little son of a bitch," Adam says, voice caught in an awkward place between growling and laughing. "You were actually gonna go there, you fucking asshole."
Kris smiles into Adam's shirt. He's not a saint, but it got him what he wanted. He tangles his fingers into the soft cotton of Adam's shirt, holding on tight in case Adam decides to let go. It doesn't seem likely, though; Adam keeps shifting his grip to hold Kris even closer and his ribs are in danger of cracking under the strain again. Adam's belt buckle digs into his stomach, but he doesn't care because he fits perfectly into the curve of Adam's pelvis, and if that doesn't mean they're meant to be, he doesn't know what does.
"Food," Adam says suddenly and pushes Kris away. It's a good thing Kris still has a good grip on Adam's shirt, or there would be way too much distance between them. Adam looks down at Kris's hand and laughs. "I really need to check on the food," he says, but he does bend down to kiss Kris's temple. "You should shower and get dressed and I'll woo you with food and brilliant conversation, okay?"
Kris certainly doesn't need to be wooed and he thinks the love declaration of this conversation has been entirely too one-sided, but maybe Adam needs a few minutes to adjust, and he wouldn't mind getting the caked blood out of his hair.
"You need to help me with this," he says, holding the cast up.
"Of course," Adam says, but he checks over the pots on the stove first, moving one away from the heat and using a new spoon to stir another one. Kris thinks the way Adam sidesteps the mess on the floor is really cute, but then everything about Adam is cute when he's not busy being mindnumbingly hot. He feels sorry for the world that never gets to see Adam like this, easy and soft, not hidden behind seven layers of makeup, leather and spikes.
"What are you looking at?" Adam asks, slanting him a look.
"You," Kris answers, a smile tilting his mouth.
Adam licks his lips and Kris really wants to kiss him. Just kiss him, over and over, until neither of them can breathe. He already thinks their relationship lacks a few essentials, like kissing and mutual declarations of love.
"Kris," Adam whines. "Stop it."
Kris just smiles. He's allowed to look now without being furtive about it, Adam's got to give him that much.
"You suck," Adam declares, but he looks so pleased that Kris doesn't believe him. "Let's get you wrapped up, okay?"
Kris flexes his fingers slowly while Adam wraps his arm in a plastic bag and lots of tape. He's pretty sure the tape is going to sting like fuck when he takes it off, giving his arm a partial Brazilian. He blames it on the drugs when his mind suddenly goes places, and he really wants to rip Adam's pants off, just to look.
"Do I even want to know what you're thinking?" Adam asks, giving Kris a curious look.
"Probably not," Kris admits, but it's really hard to tear his eyes away from Adam's crotch.
Adam takes pity on him and tilts Kris's chin up with a finger. "Hey," he says, when their eyes catch.
"Hey," Kris repeats, letting himself get lost in the swirly blue of Adam's eyes.
Adam smiles and Kris wants to lick the freckles on his lips. Adam's hand slides up to cup Kris's cheek, and Kris is pretty sure he makes a little sound, letting his mouth fall open. Adam's other hand curls around Kris's hip, making Kris forget how to breathe. Of course that's when the doorbell chimes, nearly startling Kris out of his skin.
"Shit," Adam says, moving his hand from Kris's hip to his own chest.
"It's probably Jennifer," Kris says.
"Yeah." Adam smiles. "I'll get the door and you hit the shower, okay? Don't faint in there."
Kris thinks Adam worries about the stupidest things, but then maybe his track record as of late lends itself to that kind of worry. He wonders how long he would have to stay in there for Adam to come and get him. He probably shouldn't try it.
*
Continued
Author: jeyhawk
Beta: drgaellon Thank you. <3
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. fic•tion noun 1. a literary work based on the imagination and not necessarily on fact, 2. a deliberately false or improbable account [syn: fabrication]
Pairing: Adam/Kris, mentions of Adam/OMC
Rating: NC17
Word Count: ~ 13,000
Summary: Future fic. Kris and Adam suffer from perpetually bad timing, but a near brush with death makes Kris realize that some things in life are worth fighting for.
Notes: This one's for my Kradio Benches. ILU guys. <3333 It's potatoe-free and thus safe for consumption, although I think you'll feel better if you just read it. Special thanks to mrsmaggiemae and darkeyes_02 for reading and cheerleading. <3
Cold, Kris is so cold. Logically, he knows he's burning up. He can feel his face radiating heat back at him from where it's buried in the pillows, but the chill is in his bones, making him shiver and twist against the sheets, trying to pull the covers tighter around his shoulders. He has things to do, he just got home after a two-month tour, but there's a deep-set ache in his bones, and he's just so tired.
He's pretty sure he should be feeling better by now. The last leg of the tour was hectic, but he's been on antibiotics for a week and he still feels like he's being pulled under. He closes his eyes and floats for a while, not sure if he's sleeping, unconscious, or awake. He can feel himself sinking, down, down, down, and that's what makes him move at last, forcing himself to stay awake while his hands scramble over the bed to find the phone he dropped onto the covers earlier.
Kris has been sick before, he's been really sick before, and he remembers this ledge between awake and unconscious where everything feels unreal and it doesn't matter if he ever wakes again. The pain when his fingers finally connect with the phone is sharp and unexpected, lifting the fog for a moment. He squints at the display trying to make sense of the floating numbers - it's later than he thought.
His fingertip shivers against the screen, it's cold, so cold, and he just wants to sleep some more, but he can't, not yet. He finally gets it to work, pressing the phone against his ear harder than he should; he needs the edge of pain to keep from floating away.
"Hey." Adam's voice is soft and low, maybe Kris woke him up, or maybe he's somewhere he can't really talk. Kris doesn't remember what time it is, even if he did just look at the watch.
"Adam," he croaks and he doesn't even know what to say. "I need... Come... Please."
"Shit. I'm on my way... Where are you? Are you home?"
Kris closes his eyes, just for a second and when he wakes up Adam is shouting at him through the phone.
"Kris... goddammit... Kris. Wake up."
"I'm here," he says, hopefully out loud. Everything is floating and it's so hard to focus.
"I'll be there in five minutes, okay. Just stay awake."
Adam's voice is tight with worry and Kris wants to tell him he's fine, but words seem to be slipping away from him again. He clings to the sound of Adam's voice; he's alternating between shouting at Kris and shouting at someone else, probably Ash. Kris would feel bad, if he wasn't so tired. He likes Ash, at least that's what he keeps telling himself, and he doesn't want Adam to shout at him because of Kris.
"Adam," he whispers and then he's floating again. He can hear Adam's voice, but it's so far away that it's not enough to anchor him anymore. He's shipwrecked, drifting on an ocean of could-have-beens and would-have-beens, wanting without purpose, needing without knowledge. He thinks he's a song sung in the lower register - slow and dragging - guitar strums making up his name.
Then Adam's right there, hands hot, so hot, on his shoulders, shaking him awake. Adam curses under his breath a constant stream of fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck but Kris is pretty sure there's no intent behind it. He blinks up at Adam, mouth stretching into a smile.
"You came," he says, voice weak and breaking.
"Of course I did," Adam says. He sounds calm, collected, but there's panic shining out of his wide open eyes.
Kris finds himself being scooped up from the bed, half wrapped in the covers. His head lolls against Adam's shoulder and the jarring movement sends a shock of pain through his body. He opens his eyes again, not sure when he closed them, and sees Ash in the doorway, an inscrutable look on his face. Ash is pretty, slim and clean cut, exactly the type of guy Adam always dates.
"Did you take something?" Adam asks curtly.
Kris opens his mouth a couple of times, but then he just shakes his head. The movement makes him feel as if he's under water, floating, floating, floating.
When he next opens his eyes, he's in Adam's lap, face tucked safely into the crook of Adam's neck. He smells like expensive cologne and desperation; Kris likes it. Adam's voice is laden with anger when he speaks, but the arms surrounding Kris are gentle, so very gentle. He tries words, but they die against Adam's skin, so he tangles his fingers in Adam's shirt, just holding on.
The chill of night time air is what wakes Kris up next, just as his back connects with a gurney. He stares in wide-eyed confusion at the faces surrounding him. Adam is still there, face pale, hollow somehow, and Jennifer his PA, is trying to get his attention. Her lips are moving without making any sound, or maybe she does, maybe that's the grating whine in his head. He's not sure. There are no star constellations spanning Adam's face and Kris is gone again.
He wakes up in a hospital bed. He thinks that this time he's awake for real: the lights are too bright and his left hand aches. He closes his eyes again and tries to sort through the last of what he can remember. Mostly he remembers Adam, but there are other things too, coming home to a too-empty house, crashing into bed, the dreams and images that kept rolling through his head. Remembering hurts, so he opens his eyes again, blinking up at the ceiling.
There's a slight sound and he shifts his eyes. The minute movement makes him feel woozy, but it doesn't pull him under again, so he supposes he's better. Adam is sitting next to the bed, his fingers clutching Kris's left hand, and his lips moving without a sound coming out. He doesn't seem to have noticed that Kris is awake.
He takes in the thick coat of foundation on Adam's face, the smeared eyeliner, and the fancy suit. Adam must have had somewhere to be tonight, and Kris should feel guilty for calling him. He lets his eyes wander around the room briefly. He's hooked up to an IV, and the walls are a soothing green color. Ash is nowhere to be seen.
Adam bends forward, pressing his face against the back of Kris's hand, and suddenly Kris can hear his voice, a broken litany of please, please, please, please. The tone of his voice hurts, and Kris licks his lips, trying to think of something to say. Adam's head jerks up at the sound, eyes catching Kris's.
He changes his tune to thank you, thank you, thank you; Kris thinks it makes a pretty song even if the record is broken. He tries a little smile, and Adam pays him back in thousands. It feels good.
"I think I'm high," Kris says, his voice sounds thick and raspy, but at least he can speak now.
Adam makes a sound that lands halfway between a laugh and a sob, and tightens his fingers around Kris's hand even more. It hurts, but it's a good hurt, keeping him in the present.
"I don't even know what they gave you, man," Adam says, sounding delirious, elated. "Something for the fever, I think, and antibiotics."
Kris smiles, because the floaty feeling is back in his head, but it's not a scary floaty. "I love you," he says, and it feels good.
"You're definitely high," Adam responds and he sounds indulgent, as if Kris doesn't mean what he's saying. Adam knows Kris loves him and they both know that the kind of 'love you' Kris just spoke is not about friendship, not even close.
Ash, Kris thinks, pulling his eyes away from Adam's intense gaze. Adam's got Ash and Kris is not that guy, neither of them is, and that has been their problem from day one. Sometimes Kris wishes Adam could see right into him, see the want and need and love he can't ever express in words. Then he thinks that maybe Adam can, no one ever understood him like Adam, and that all those things are just not enough.
"Clocks," Kris says, which is really not what he meant at all, but his mind is tripping out on some farfetched allegory on timing and time and how they don't have it.
Adam snorts. "I'm gonna call for a nurse, okay?" he says, voice soft.
Adam eases his grip on Kris's hand and Kris's fingers prickle when the blood comes rushing back. Somehow, he wishes Adam would have held on.
*
The nurse is pretty and the doctor she brings looks stern. He listens to their words, but they don't align right in his head. Every now and then, his eyes stray to Adam just to see if he gets it and he probably does because he's listening in rapt fascination, fingers tightening on Kris's hand again. What Kris manages to take from the conversation is that fact that his fever went way, way up, that the antibiotics he was on were not strong enough to battle the infection, and also that he's a dumbass for not cutting his tour short.
They're going to keep him in the hospital for a couple of days, and then he will be on bed rest at home for at least another two weeks until his blood work comes out clear, at which point they will give him clearance to start working again. Maybe. Then they go on to threaten him with big words like sepsis and death, but Kris tunes them out, watching the emotions flicker over Adam's face.
Once the speech is over, they fuss over him, taking his blood pressure, measuring his temperature, and checking the IV. The pretty nurse keeps glancing at Adam and Kris wonders what kind of stories will end up in the papers tomorrow.
"Everything looks good, Mr. Allen," the nurse says and her eyes slide over Adam again. "We'll keep you in the ICU over night, but you'll probably be moved to a regular floor tomorrow."
Kris nods. He doesn't like the way she's looking at Adam.
"Uhm..." She looks uncertain. "We normally don't let anyone outside the immediate family visit... We made an exception for you, Mr. Lambert, but..."
"He's staying," Kris says. "Or I'm leaving."
She swallows and he knows he just put her in an awkward spot, but he doesn't care.
"Adam is family," he says.
She nods, looking uncomfortable.
"Just give me a few minutes, and I'll be out of your hair," Adam says, giving her a smile that makes her blush.
Kris wants to protest. He wants to throw a right tantrum, he's sick, dammit, and he should be allowed to keep Adam forever, but Adam obviously had somewhere to be and Kris should learn how to let him go. The nurse leaves and they're alone again. Adam unclenches his hand, but he doesn't let go. Kris thinks that's a good sign, but for what he doesn't know.
"I called your mom," Adam says. "They'll be here tomorrow morning."
Kris nods slightly, he figured as much. Adam sighs and this time he does let go of Kris's hand.
"You scared me," he says, and his voice sounds oddly flat. "If you hadn't called..."
Adam shakes his head and rubs a hand over his face, smudging his eyeliner even more. Kris wants to touch him, but his limbs are too heavy to move.
"Adam..." he says, but he doesn't know how that sentence ends. He's been struggling to finish it for years now, but there's never a good time.
"Don't," Adam says and it sounds like rejection. "I have to go."
He jumps up from the chair, towering over the bed, looking like he doesn't know what part of Kris is safe to touch, if any. He finally settles on Kris's shoulder, fingers lingering for just a second before he pulls his hand away.
"Get better," he says, and it's clearly an order. "We'll talk, okay?"
Kris doesn't even have time to answer before Adam's moving towards the door.
"Adam," he says, and Adam stops, back still turned towards the bed. "Do you think the time will ever be right for this conversation?"
Adam shakes his head mutely, just a slight rustle of his hair, but it hits Kris straight in the chest.
"Tell Ash I said thanks," Kris whispers and his mouth tastes like despair.
The door closes behind Adam and Kris sleeps.
*
The next two weeks are filled with family, friends, more ranting than Kris has ever heard in his life, and no Adam. It's a sad testament to the state of his feelings that 'no Adam' is what matters most. He loves his family, and they're taking good care of him, but not hearing Adam's voice every day just feels wrong. He thinks about calling so many times, but he's the one that put it out there this time, which means that the ball's in Adam's court. They've played this game before.
The tabloids have a field day with his illness, and the internet is filled to the brim with rumors of him being in rehab. No one seems to have leaked Adam's involvement in his rescue, so everything is quiet on that front. Kris sends out a few tweets to thank his fans for their concern on his behalf, and to tell everyone he's doing better. He thinks it's the first time one of his tweets has been mentioned on the news.
Bed rest is no fun, and his mother fussing over him as if he's five years old is also no fun. He loves her and he wouldn't have her any other way, but he's a grown man, and he feels like he's been wrapped up in a cocoon of scented cotton. Daniel provides necessary comic relief for a week, but then he has to get back to the real world and Kris is alone with his mother again.
"You seem so sad, sweetie," his mom says one night, coming to sit on the bed next to Kris.
"I miss Adam," he answers, staring intently at the wall. He thinks she knows how he feels about Adam, but they've never talked about it.
"Why don't you just call him?" she asks.
He shakes his head slightly, not sure how to answer. "It's complicated."
She sighs, moving up onto the bed, resting her back against the headboard and crossing her legs neatly at the ankle.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Kris shrugs. He's not sure he can talk about it, especially with his mother. He loves her and he knows she'll support him no matter what, but he doesn’t know how to put everything he feels about Adam into words; he can't make sense of his own thoughts.
"I'll start then," she says, resting a hand on top of his on the covers. "I think that, on some level, I've known you were in love with Adam for years, but it didn't sink in until Katy's wedding."
Kris blinks, he can hardly remember Katy's wedding. He didn't get ridiculously drunk and make a fool out of himself until afterwards, but the memories of her big day got sucked into the void of his aching head the morning after. Thinking about it always makes him feel like shit.
"I had my eyes on you that whole day, but you seemed to really be okay with it, as if you were genuinely happy for her."
"I am," Kris murmurs. His freak out after the wedding had nothing to do with losing the last fragile tie between him and Katy, and everything to do with Adam.
"I know you are," she says, petting his hand. "But you weren't happy about Ash."
Kris swallows. He can't believe he was that transparent. Even Adam didn't get it until Kris spelled it out in vomit and tears, and even then, he seemed confused, as if he didn't really understand what Kris was saying.
"I didn't expect him," Kris says, eyes focused on the ceiling, and it's the truth. Adam told Kris he was bringing a date, but somehow Kris figured it would be someone he knew, that Adam would bring a plus one just to deflect the talk. He didn't expect that Adam would be all starry-eyed and in love. He didn't expect Ash, but he stayed, and Kris thinks that maybe he should just let go.
"Your time will come," she says, squeezing his fingers for a moment, and Kris wants to ask how she knows that, how she can possibly know, but words never seemed to fit into this whole situation. "You should sleep," she continues, bending down to press a kiss to his forehead. "Tomorrow is another day."
Kris feels lonely when she leaves, like his bed is too big for him alone. He lets his eyes slip shut and indulges in a fantasy of Adam crawling into bed with him. It's not even sexual, just Adam's lips against the back of his neck and Adam's arms strong and tight around him. Kris reaches levels of pathetic Adam's fans can only dream of.
*
The news hits the blogs on a Thursday night and Kris just won't leave his computer. He's feeling much better, he's been up and walking, taking care of himself, for days, writing songs and doing phone interviews, but if he has to, he'll pull the sick card to watch this train wreck forever. His fingers are itching to call Adam and he would, if he just got even the slightest inclination that this has anything to do with him.
Unfortunately, no one seems to have gotten a comment from Adam, and his Twitter account is as silent as the grave. There are just rumors, waves and waves of rumors, about Adam and Ash breaking up. Normally, Kris wouldn't even believe it, but the blogs don't all have the same source, and there are pictures of moving vans outside Adam's house, and of Adam and Ash clearly captured in an argument. There are even recent pictures of Ash with another man, so if the relationship wasn't over to begin with, it might very well be now.
Kris feels like the suckiest friend in the world, watching it all go down on the Internet, but he can't help it, caught between hope and agony, and his fans are helping in his obsession by Tweeting him link after link about Adam's supposed break up. He kind of wants to thank them, but that would really paint him in an unflattering light.
A lot of Adam's fans seem to be in turmoil. Adam and Ash have been together for two years, and not all of them are still holding out hope for Kradam to be real. Actually, Kris doesn't know if anyone is but him, but he still reads through all the comments on the gossip blogs. He's a sad human being.
There's finally confirmation at 3 am, in the form of a curt tweet from Adam that simply says: Yes, it's true. Kris's heart aches, thinking about Adam being awake and plagued by reporters, but it also makes him feel closer to him somehow. He debates whether or not to reply to Adam's tweet for a full ten minutes before he finally writes out: I'm sorry, man. and hits reply. He doesn't care what people might say about that. He wants Adam to know he cares and he wants it to be out there. He's tired of being subtle.
He gets his response in the form of a phone call fifteen minutes later when he's finally shut down the computer, intent on going to bed with this weird, elated-but-sad feeling in his chest.
"You should be in bed," Adam says, when Kris picks up. It's a very typical Adam greeting.
"I'm on my way," Kris answers, tucking the phone against his ear while he wiggles out of his jeans. He should have never let himself be talked into wearing tighter clothes; he misses the days when undressing didn't include wiggling.
"You feeling better now?"
"Yeah," Kris says, picking his jeans up from the floor and tossing them on a chair. "Took my last antibiotic pill a few days ago, and I'm going back for blood work on Monday. Hopefully I'll get the all clear."
"Your mom kept me updated, but it's never the same, you know?"
Kris does know, and he thinks it sucks. He just spent hours sifting through the Internet for news about his best friend.
"So how are you?" Kris asks, because they're not going to spend the entire conversation sidestepping the elephant.
"I'm... good, I think. I feel kind of hollow right now. Guess it hasn't really sunk in."
Kris wants to ask more, he wants to know everything, but there's a time and a place, and he's pretty sure that's not right now, because it never is.
"I missed you," he says instead as he crawls into bed.
"I missed you, too," Adam responds, easy and natural.
Just hearing his voice is making Kris feel so much better; he was going through some serious Adam withdrawal. He takes it upon himself to lead the conversation into safe territory and starts telling Adam about this song he wrote while still in his sick bed. The conversation meanders from there and soon they're just talking, like they always do, about meaningless nonsense, music, and life.
At some point, Kris starts drifting, caught somewhere between asleep and awake; it seems to be a reoccurring thing when it comes to Adam. Adam is telling a story about some party he went to and he certainly doesn't need Kris's input. The vague hums he manages every now and then are enough to keep Adam going. Kris can almost see him in his mind, phone pressed to his ear and one hand waving around in the air. In his mind, Adam's on his bed, sitting cross-legged with his back against the headboard and the TV on mute in the background. He figures it's not far from the truth-Adam does love his bed.
"Are you asleep?" Adam asks suddenly, and Kris realizes his vague humming along must have tapered off some time ago.
"Almost," he admits, voice thick and heavy with sleep.
"I should let you sleep," Adam says and he sounds odd. It's a good odd, that makes Kris think of things he really shouldn't be thinking of when he's in bed with Adam talking straight into his ear, but it's still odd.
"Adam," he says, and he can tell by the way Adam's name catches and drags on his tongue that's he's about to talk about things he shouldn't talk about. He should really work on having better control of his words when he's half asleep.
"Don't," Adam responds, too fast, and Kris is getting really tired of rejection. "I just... I need some time, okay? Just some time."
He doesn't say wait for me but that's what Kris hears. It doesn't even matter if that's not what Adam means, he'll wait forever if he has to.
"Yeah," Kris says, and his eyes are stinging with lack of sleep. "Yeah."
*
Somehow Kris didn't think I need time would translate into another three weeks of complete radio silence, but apparently that's what Adam meant. He tries to be okay with it, but his fingers are constantly itching just to call Adam. He regrets never putting Adam's PA, Elisa, on his payroll, because he's certain Adam pays Jennifer more than he does and that Adam knows what color underwear he's wearing at any given moment. He wants to know the color of Adam's underwear, dammit. Even if Elisa is always nice and chatty and knows to put Kris through to Adam, that doesn't matter much when he's not supposed to call.
Logically, he knows he did the same thing after his divorce was final and the news hit media. They exchanged a few messages but they didn't actually talk for almost a month. Kris didn't actually anything for almost a month, which included getting out of bed. He really hopes Adam doesn't do that; it sucked and he dropped fifteen pounds. He doesn't want Adam to lose weight; he's perfect just as he is.
At least he's got work to distract him since his blood work came back all clear, which is a really good thing or he'd be climbing the walls at home. Jennifer keeps his schedule pretty light, though, so he's very grateful when they start up with the band rehearsals in preparation for the Grammys. He's so used to drowning his emotions in work that he doesn't know how to deal otherwise.
They're performing "Reverie," the smash hit from his second album that he wrote after his divorce and that everyone interpreted as being about Katy. He supposes it is, in a way, but in his mind, it's all about Adam. He was in such a weird place the first few months after his divorce. Once he was brave enough to pick up the phone and actually talk to Adam again, he had to forcibly stop himself from using Adam as a crutch.
The entire song just came to him late one night after spending hours on the phone with Adam, and it's a straight up declaration of love. There's a bittersweet note to it, which is probably why everyone thinks it's about Katy, but it's not like realizing he was in love with his best friend was an easy thing to come to terms with.
It's a bit too pensive a song for such a huge show as the Grammys though, so Kris and Cale get into a discussion about how to heat it up without losing the feel of it. It's not exactly an argument, but as always when their opinions differ, it gets kind of loud. It doesn't really help that Kris has a hard time focusing on talking about the song, when he's thinking about how to introduce it.
They're doing some sort of work on the stage that they're on and their voices keeps being overshadowed by random bangs and the sound of drilling, so, of course, they get even louder. Kris even lets go of his sweet fantasy about telling the world that he wrote "Reverie" for Adam, in favor of waving his hands in Cale's face. He's known Cale since forever and he loves him like a brother, but he's completely wrong about the piano line.
Then someone yells LOOK OUT, just before something big and heavy knocks them over. Kris lands on his left arm, and he's pretty sure he can actually hear it crack when he connects with the floor, but maybe that's just his ear getting friendly with the floorboards. People come running from every direction and Kris blinks a couple of times, trying to see what happened to Cale.
Then the speaker, because apparently 'big and heavy' was a speaker, is being lifted, and pain shoots through Kris's left arm. Cale seems to be fine, crouching by Kris's side, and he thinks it's kind of annoying that they're all looking at him like he's dying.
"Don't move," Cale says, face pale with worry. "An ambulance is on its way."
"Ambulance?" Kris frowns. Something wet is dripping into his ear and his arm hurts like a bitch, but he doesn't need an ambulance.
He tries to sit up, only to be pushed down again by about ten helpful hands. What is wrong with people? He blinks a couple more times, looking up at the ceiling, miles above them. His head aches and his arm is on fire. This is not how he planned for his day to go.
Someone brings a towel and presses it to his temple and when it's lifted for a moment it comes away red with blood. Kris frowns at the blood and lift his right hand to gently probe at his forehead. It's slick with blood and there's a bump forming just above his left eyebrow.
"Don't touch," Jennifer hisses, capturing his hand.
Kris wants to tell her not to call Adam, but it's not just the band surrounding him. He recognizes one of the promoters, a couple of stage hands, and a completely livid press agent standing a little to the side shouting into his phone. He doesn't need to address the fact that his PA works for Adam in front a bunch of strangers. It might possibly look a bit weird.
"How are you feeling?" Cale asks, hand tight against Kris's shoulder.
"My arm hurts, my head throbs, and there's blood dripping into my ear. Other than that I'm good," Kris answers with a slight smile.
Cale laughs and squeezes Kris's shoulder. "You're probably right about the piano line..."
"Damn right, I am," Kris mutters. It doesn't matter that Cale's only backing down because he feels guilty. It's Kris's song, so he deserves to win that argument.
The ambulance finally shows up and the paramedics make a real show of checking Kris over before loading him onto the gurney. He still wants to protest the VIP treatment for what he suspects is just a broken arm and a cut on his forehead, but he supposes it's not really about him being hurt as much as the venue avoiding being sued.
The ambulance is parked at one of the back entrances, but it's still surrounded by paparazzi and Kris is carried out to a chorus of flashes. He locks eyes with Jennifer for a moment and she nods, understanding what he's saying without him having to say it. Call them all before they see this on the news.
*
The first two hours of the hospital visit seem to go on forever and everything hurts. Then they give him a shot of the good stuff and time moves even slower, but he no longer cares. He wonders if he should have told them pain medication stronger than Tylenol usually makes him loopy.
All in all, it takes four hours before he's sitting at the edge of his bed, trying to make sense of the doctor's last-minute instructions. She's wearing a pearl necklace and his eyes keeps trying to follow it around her neck. He got his left arm in a cast and a neat row of butterfly bandages on his forehead. The blood slowly dries on his shirt and he thinks he can smell the sugary metallic tang of it.
He jerks his head up when there's some commotion outside and the door is yanked open, revealing Adam. He's being followed by a number of people in white coats telling him he's not allowed, but Kris cannot stop smiling. He smiles so widely he's pretty sure his face would hurt if he could still feel it, but Adam isn't smiling back.
"What the fuck, Kris?" he asks, and he sounds angry, as if Kris had someone drop a speaker on him on purpose.
"Adam," Kris says, because that's pretty much the only thing he can think of, still smiling.
Adam ignores the people trying to stop him, moving closer to the bed, and Kris sees Jennifer jump up to explain it's all right. It's a good thing she's on his team, because seeing Adam again has pretty much robbed him of even his ability to breathe. He didn't realize how much he missed Adam until just now. He wonders how Adam always looks larger than life; it's not like he's really that tall, unless you compare him to Kris.
"Fuck," Adam says, low and rough, reaching out to place a hand against the side of Kris's face.
Kris is still smiling, hoping, wanting and he reaches up to curl his good hand around Adam's elbow, keeping his fingers against his face. Adam's other hand skates over Kris's cheek and temple to flitter around the Band-Aid covering the tape. His fingers are cold and clammy and Kris wishes he could warm them.
He wants to pull Adam closer and have his arms wrap around him. He wants to tuck his face into the crook of Adam's neck and just stay there forever. Of course, the universe has other plans and instead of moving closer, Adam moves away. Kris is pretty sure he makes some kind of protest, because Adam gives him a half smile and sits down on the bed next to him. Half a smile is better than no smile at all, and then Adam's hand curls around his knee and Kris feels a lot better about everything.
The doctor looks kind of flustered under Adam's scrutiny, but whatever Jennifer said must have worked because she doesn't question his inclusion. Adam produces a notebook from somewhere, and when the doctor starts over with her instructions, Adam takes notes. It's a good thing, too, because Kris is busy looking at Adam's hands and the side of his face, zoning out on the doctor's words.
Eventually the doctor is done with her instructions and she wishes a Kris a speedy recovery. Kris smiles and shakes her hand, making her cheeks flush. She's an attractive woman, probably about his age and there's no ring on her hand. Kris wonders when he stopped noticing these things. He hasn't been on a date in forever.
Then Adam puts a hand between his shoulder blades and he remembers why. No one else measures up. He thinks that it's kind of fucked up that he's the one reaching for it with all his might, but maybe that's the way it has to be, the only way it can be. He's not stupid; he knows the gay handbook says, "Don't date straight guys," but he's not straight, and Adam's an idiot if he can't see that.
"Hearts in my eyes," he mumbles, looking up at Adam.
Adam raises an eyebrow and the corners of his mouth tilts upwards. "You're funny when you're high," he says.
Kris kind of wants to throttle him, but he's pretty sure that would make his arm hurt again, so he lets himself be steered into a wheelchair instead. There's no use protesting that there's nothing wrong with his legs; he knows these people, and there's no way they're going to let him walk.
It's dark outside when he's wheeled out to the parking lot, but the flashes of a hundred cameras certainly light things up. He can hear people shouting questions at him from several directions, but he's busy craning his neck looking for Adam. Adam isn't there and his life officially sucks again. He gets out of the wheelchair and into Jennifer's car with his mouth clamped shut. He's so not answering any questions right now.
"Adam's meeting us at the house," Jennifer says, giving Kris a sideways look.
"Oh." Kris smiles, Adam didn't abandon him after all.
"And you should call your mother, Katy, and pretty much everyone else you know."
Kris nods; he figured as much.
"Helen penned a statement to release to the press. She wondered if she should put down that you're going ahead with the Grammy appearance as planned."
"Uh... I suppose," Kris says, looking out the window. He hadn't even thought of that yet, but the Grammys are two weeks away, and there's nothing wrong with his voice.
"Good."
Kris turns his head to look at her. Jennifer's been with him forever now, ever since he got onto this wild roller coaster ride. She's a slight woman, with mousy brown hair and librarian glasses perched on her pointed nose. She knows things about him he doesn't think even Adam knows, and there's no doubt in his mind she'll stay loyal to the end.
"I'm in love with Adam," he says, and it's strangely liberating to say it out loud.
A smile ghosts over her lips, and she glances at him. "I know."
He smiles back and rests his head against the window. Maybe it will all work out in the end.
*
Strangely, there are no paparazzi guarding the gates to his home, or if there are, they're really good at hiding. Kris doesn't care much, because he spots Adam's car in the driveway and his heart does a double take. Adam drives the same car he does; the only things setting them apart are the license plates; he never thought of it before, but maybe Adam did that on purpose.
"I'm gonna get your prescriptions filled," Jennifer says, as Kris opens the door to get out. "I'll be back later."
"Thanks," Kris says, giving her a smile, even if he's already moving towards the front door in his mind.
Kris's house is a sprawling bungalow with a huge garden. It's really way too big for just him, but he wanted a place with impressive walls and a sturdy gate and this was the least obnoxious house he could find. The front door is painted a pleasing shade of blue and he always feels as if he can finally breathe when it closes behind him.
Breathing might be an issue today, though, because Adam's waiting for him in the hallway, dressed down in a black Zeppelin shirt and skinny black jeans. Kris looks at Adam's sock-clad feet, and his breath gets stuck in his throat. He wonders if he's always going to feel like this.
"You disappeared," he says and it's an accusation, but not quite.
Adam doesn't answer and when he looks up, Adam's watching him with his bottom lip stuck between his teeth, eyes locked on Kris's blood-stained shirt.
"Shit," Adam says, and then Kris gets the hug he's been waiting for.
Adam just reaches out and pulls Kris into him, crushing him against his chest. Kris moves his stupid cast out of the way and buries his face against Adam's t-shirt, letting himself be held.
"Don't you dare do that to me ever again," Adam says, clutching Kris even tighter. "You hear me?"
Kris is about to protest that he certainly doesn't do these things on purpose, but Adam doesn't let him get a word in edgewise.
"Jen called me before I saw... but Jesus fuck, Kris... You looked so fucking out of it and there was blood everywhere and fuck..."
Kris's ribs are starting to complain under the strain of Adam's worry, but he doesn't want Adam to let him go. Adam's shoulder is solid under his cheek and it's so easy to close his eyes and just let himself exist in the moment. Eventually Adam's grip does ease up and he pushes Kris with a firm grip of his shoulders.
"I'm making you dinner," he says. "And you better change out of that shirt."
Kris wants to point out that sounds a lot like a date, but he doesn't want Adam to get awkward and leave, so he keeps his mouth shut. He wouldn't want to miss out on the food. He hasn't eaten since lunch. Adam uses his grip on Kris's shoulders to propel him forward and Kris follows easily. He doesn't mind following Adam's lead, never has; Adam can lead him wherever he wants.
"Go change," Adam orders, giving Kris a little push in the right direction.
Kris misses the weight of Adam's hands as soon as they're gone, but he moves towards his room on autopilot. He really wants a shower. He smells like a curious mix of antiseptic and blood, and it's really not a good combination, but he doesn't know if he can make the shower thing work for him with the cast and the stitches.
As it turns out, he can't even work the getting-out-of-his-shirt thing. They ripped the bottom of the sleeve to make room for the cast and he thought the rest of the arm would just slip right over it, but apparently it's still too tight, and he ends up with the shirt stuck around his cast. He manages to get the rest of his clothes off, leaving the boxers for now, and heads for the kitchen. He needs a pair of scissors to get the stupid shirt off and a bag to wrap his cast. The butterflies are covered by a plastic Band-Aid, so that should be fine.
Adam looks up when he enters the kitchen and promptly drops the spoon he's holding, along with his jaw. Kris realizes, a little belatedly, what it might look like.
"I need help," he says holding his cast and the dangling shirt up. "It's too tight."
Adam seems to get a grip on himself and nods. Kris thinks it's kind of amusing that Adam is trying really hard not to look at him while looking at him.
"You lost so much weight," Adam says and his voice is soft and serious.
Kris did drop almost ten pounds while he was sick, and it's been hard work putting them back on when his schedule doesn't really allow for regular eating. He's working on it though; he doesn't like it when his skinny jeans become baggy. He's gotten so used to the skinnier fit that he thinks there's a draft when he wears baggy ones.
"I'll put it back on," Kris promises.
Adam gets the scissor from above the sink and moves closer. He curls his hand loosely around Kris's arm just above the cast and raises the scissors. Kris shivers; Adam's fingers are warm against his skin and he just wants to move closer. He wants Adam to forget about the scissors and the stupid shirt and just pull Kris to his chest.
Adam licks his lips and shifts his grip as he begins to cut. The scissor is sharp and the shredded remains of the shirt fall away easily, landing in a heap at their feet. He doesn't let go though, fingers tight around Kris's arm, and Kris steps closer. The air between them feels charged with energy, heavy and crackling. Adam's got his eyes fixed on where he's holding Kris's arm and Kris just wants his attention. He wants Adam to look at him and just see everything.
"Fuck," Adam says, letting Kris's arm go and taking a step back. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
He scrubs his hands over his face, probably messing up his makeup, and makes a choked little sound.
"I can't do this, Kris," he says. "I really can't."
Somehow, Kris had never thought they'd end up having this conversation in his kitchen with pasta sauce splattered over the floor and him in his underwear. In fact, he'd hoped they would never have to have it at all. Everything else between them is so natural and flawless, so why not this?
"Adam," he says, and Adam jerks his head up, giving Kris a wild look. He looks very much like a spooked horse, ready to bolt at any second, and Kris really wishes he knew why this is so hard. He feels like he's got cotton stuffed in his head, and his arm is beginning to hurt again, and he just wishes he could find the right things to say, because this whole situation sucks.
"Just look me in the eyes and tell me you don't want this, and I'll stop pushing for it," Kris finally says. "It'll break my heart, but if that's truly what you want, I'll back down."
Adam doesn't look up; he's got his head in his hands again and he keeps shaking it back and forth, as if Kris isn't even making sense. Kris makes perfect sense; it's Adam that's being senseless.
"So here's the thing," Kris says, because either Adam needs convincing or he just enjoys hearing Kris make a fool of himself. "I'm so utterly and stupidly in love with you that I don't even know what to do with myself. How the fuck can you not see that?"
Adam is still shaking his head and Kris kind of wants to use his cast to knock some sense into him. He doesn't even know what he'll do if Adam tells him he doesn't want this. Never once has he seriously considered that Adam isn't interested. But Adam isn't saying anything and Kris has got his heart lodged in his throat. Maybe the reason Adam keeps deflecting the question is because he doesn't know how to let Kris down gently. Just because Adam's gay, it doesn't automatically mean he's in love with Kris.
The silence stretches out and Kris realizes he can now count it in minutes, not in seconds, and his chest constricts painfully. There's a very real chance he just put an end to their friendship and he doesn't even think he can blame the drugs.
"Shit," he hisses, because he needs to make this better. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have... Let's just pretend I never said anything, okay? Let's just... just..."
Kris doesn't even know where to go on from there. What can he possibly say to take it back when he means every word?
"You don't even know what you're asking for," Adam says and he sounds angry. He finally looks up and his eyes are blazing with something Kris can't even begin to understand. "You think you want this, but you're not gonna want it two months from now when the media is ripping your life apart, pestering your friends, calling Katy at three am to ask her how she feels about this. Jesus fucking Christ, Kris, you just have no idea."
Adam's an idiot if he doesn't think Kris has considered this and decided it's worth it. Actually, Adam's an idiot no matter what for scaring Kris like that.
"It's worth it," Kris says, low and even, because he really wants Adam to understand this. "I don't care if they call my pastor, or if the paps hang like Christmas ornaments from my trees. It's worth it."
Adam's shaking his head again, but he looks bewildered, as if he can't believe that Kris is for real. Kris decides to hit him with a cheap shot, because this is important and he can be petty when he wants to be.
"I could have died twice in the last two months," he says softly, and he doesn't actually get any further before Adam's cursing and laughing and pulling Kris into his arms.
"You tiny little son of a bitch," Adam says, voice caught in an awkward place between growling and laughing. "You were actually gonna go there, you fucking asshole."
Kris smiles into Adam's shirt. He's not a saint, but it got him what he wanted. He tangles his fingers into the soft cotton of Adam's shirt, holding on tight in case Adam decides to let go. It doesn't seem likely, though; Adam keeps shifting his grip to hold Kris even closer and his ribs are in danger of cracking under the strain again. Adam's belt buckle digs into his stomach, but he doesn't care because he fits perfectly into the curve of Adam's pelvis, and if that doesn't mean they're meant to be, he doesn't know what does.
"Food," Adam says suddenly and pushes Kris away. It's a good thing Kris still has a good grip on Adam's shirt, or there would be way too much distance between them. Adam looks down at Kris's hand and laughs. "I really need to check on the food," he says, but he does bend down to kiss Kris's temple. "You should shower and get dressed and I'll woo you with food and brilliant conversation, okay?"
Kris certainly doesn't need to be wooed and he thinks the love declaration of this conversation has been entirely too one-sided, but maybe Adam needs a few minutes to adjust, and he wouldn't mind getting the caked blood out of his hair.
"You need to help me with this," he says, holding the cast up.
"Of course," Adam says, but he checks over the pots on the stove first, moving one away from the heat and using a new spoon to stir another one. Kris thinks the way Adam sidesteps the mess on the floor is really cute, but then everything about Adam is cute when he's not busy being mindnumbingly hot. He feels sorry for the world that never gets to see Adam like this, easy and soft, not hidden behind seven layers of makeup, leather and spikes.
"What are you looking at?" Adam asks, slanting him a look.
"You," Kris answers, a smile tilting his mouth.
Adam licks his lips and Kris really wants to kiss him. Just kiss him, over and over, until neither of them can breathe. He already thinks their relationship lacks a few essentials, like kissing and mutual declarations of love.
"Kris," Adam whines. "Stop it."
Kris just smiles. He's allowed to look now without being furtive about it, Adam's got to give him that much.
"You suck," Adam declares, but he looks so pleased that Kris doesn't believe him. "Let's get you wrapped up, okay?"
Kris flexes his fingers slowly while Adam wraps his arm in a plastic bag and lots of tape. He's pretty sure the tape is going to sting like fuck when he takes it off, giving his arm a partial Brazilian. He blames it on the drugs when his mind suddenly goes places, and he really wants to rip Adam's pants off, just to look.
"Do I even want to know what you're thinking?" Adam asks, giving Kris a curious look.
"Probably not," Kris admits, but it's really hard to tear his eyes away from Adam's crotch.
Adam takes pity on him and tilts Kris's chin up with a finger. "Hey," he says, when their eyes catch.
"Hey," Kris repeats, letting himself get lost in the swirly blue of Adam's eyes.
Adam smiles and Kris wants to lick the freckles on his lips. Adam's hand slides up to cup Kris's cheek, and Kris is pretty sure he makes a little sound, letting his mouth fall open. Adam's other hand curls around Kris's hip, making Kris forget how to breathe. Of course that's when the doorbell chimes, nearly startling Kris out of his skin.
"Shit," Adam says, moving his hand from Kris's hip to his own chest.
"It's probably Jennifer," Kris says.
"Yeah." Adam smiles. "I'll get the door and you hit the shower, okay? Don't faint in there."
Kris thinks Adam worries about the stupidest things, but then maybe his track record as of late lends itself to that kind of worry. He wonders how long he would have to stay in there for Adam to come and get him. He probably shouldn't try it.
*
Continued