Fic: Dazed and Clueless, 1/2
Title: Dazed and Clueless
Pairing: Kris/Adam
Rating: PG-13
Length: 11,500 words
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction.
Warnings: None.
Notes: Written for kradam_kiss and helpsomalia for sorchasilver who asked for clueless boys and meddling friends. HS AU, ridiculous premise, even more ridiculous characterizations. Canon has been ignored like woah. In fact, I think this fic should be in a category called Canon, What Canon?
Beta by sbb23.
Summary: In Brad’s defense, there’s really nothing better to do in this town.
Kris arrives at the Lambert residence at 7 AM sharp. A surly looking Neil answers the door.
"Oh, good," Neil says, face impassive. "Maybe you can wake him up. He's gonna be late again if he doesn't get going soon."
Neil turns on his heels and walks into the kitchen, leaving Kris alone in the doorway. Kris doesn't blame him; something smells delicious in there.
"Kris, is that you, honey?" Mrs. Lambert calls, her voice pleasant and welcoming as always.
Kris kicks off his shoes and shuts the door. "Yes, Mrs. Lambert. I'm going to go check on Adam."
She says something indistinct in reply, which is followed by a series of clattering sounds. She's setting the table, Kris thinks, stomach growling on cue. He hopes Adam gets up before Neil eats everything. Not everyone can live on salad and air like Adam does.
The basement is dark and it smells a bit like gym socks. The carpeted stairs let out familiar creaks and groans as Kris descends, and once he's down, he finds Adam's room completely trashed-clothes, makeup, hair products everywhere.
He walks slowly, careful not to step on anything. Despite appearances, Adam does value his possessions greatly. He's like a dragon, hoarding gold and jewels in his lair to admire and play with. That he doesn't have any real use for them doesn't mean he won't protect them with his dying breath.
Kris is used to Adam's irrational love affair with shiny and sparkly and ultimately useless things. He's learned to just go with it.
Adam is still in bed, wrapped in his dark purple sheets with only the top of his head peeking out. Kris considers how to go about waking him, draws up a game plan in his mind, and then tentatively says, "Adam."
The lump in the bed moves, one foot kicking free of the comforter. Kris' eyes are drawn to the freckles dusting Adam's ankle and the nail polish he must have put on last night. It's jade green.
Kris tickles the sole of Adam's foot-too tempting-and Adam makes a whiny sound in his throat.
"Whadayawan?"
"We're gonna be late," Kris tells him.
He pokes the sheets in a couple of places gently, trying to locate an arm he can nudge or pull, but he forgets for a moment not to get too close-that Adam can be as fast and ruthless as the deadliest predator when his sleep is threatened. In a blink, he's in Adam's clutches, toppled into the bed with Adam's arms and legs wrapped around him, completely incapacitating him.
"Hello to you too," Kris mutters, spitting out the corner of the sheet that somehow ended up in his mouth. He wiggles experimentally, trying to break free, but Adam's hold is firm. Kris can only move his head, his fingers, and his left leg. Taking stock of his options, he decides to go with a glare-which Adam deigns to open one eye to meet.
"Mornin'," Adam says.
Kris keeps glaring.
"Do we have to?" Adam whines, trying to hide his face between the pillow and Kris' shoulder.
Kris nudges him with an elbow.
"Don't wanna."
The whiny, sleepy tone is making Kris want to bite Adam, just to make it stop, or to give up and go to sleep himself to pacify him, but before he can decide what to do-bite, pinch, snuggle?-the basement door clicks open and Mrs. Lambert comes down.
Seeing Adam still in bed and wrapped around Kris like an octopus, she sighs. "Adam." The name is uttered with the longsuffering tones of a mother who's had to put up with her son's crap for years. Kris is pretty sure he uses an approximation of the same tone unconsciously sometimes when he's talking to Adam. Adam just brings that out in a person.
Adam shakes his head as if to say there's no one here by that name, prompting Mrs. Lambert to share an exasperated look with Kris.
"Adam, you're going to miss breakfast, and you're going to be late for work." She pauses, gets no response, and continues. "And if you keep treating him like this, one of these days Kris is going to find himself a new best friend."
That gets Adam moving-though unfortunately not in the right direction.
He heaves himself up with a deep, protesting sound, and plops back down on Kris.
Kris yelps, tries to shrug him off, but it's too late. Adam is already a dead weight on his chest, arms and legs spread-eagled for maximum coverage.
Mrs. Lambert looks amused.
"He used to lick his toys when he was a kid, so Neil wouldn't try and take them from him," she tells Kris with half a smile, and then turns and abandons him to his fate.
Adam's hair tickles Kris' nose. Kris wonders if he should be grateful that Adam isn't licking him.
"Adam? Adam, I can't breathe."
Adam snuffles into Kris' neck and keeps on sleeping.
-
Adam takes the seat across from Kris and drops the small paper bag he brought with him on the table. Kris beams at him. The straw in his mouth drops back into his half-full glass of coke, and he pulls the bag closer, opening it with the same enthusiasm he does every day.
Taking in the cup of frozen yogurt inside, his eyes shine. "Cookie dough?"
Adam nods. "With peanuts."
As Kris inhales his yogurt, making noises that would make a porn star blush, Adam looks away. He feels himself getting fatter every time he looks at one of those things-and he has to look at them all day. He should never have let Kris talk him into getting a job at the yogurt shop. He got carried away with the idea of a shiny new car-or a less rusty one anyway-for college and forgot that he'd have to get up at the crack of dawn and clean up after people every day.
People are pigs, seriously. Adam should've held out for a better job, like maybe at the record store with Kris. That would have been a tolerable way to spend his summer, and he and Kris would have had more time to hang out. He bets they don't even have sticky yogurt residue on the counters there.
The diner is quiet tonight. There's probably a game on or something. Kris would know. The diner's TV has been broken since probably the late 70s, so it's always deserted on game nights. The place is ancient anyway, it doesn't even have a proper sound system. The jukebox is all they've got in the form of entertainment.
Matt waves at him from behind the counter, making a gesture that Adam guesses is supposed to mean you want anything? Matt is probably the laziest waiter the town has ever had the misfortune of seeing. Adam thinks they would have fired his ass long ago if his great aunt didn't own the place. Adam shakes his head at him and steals a sip of Kris' coke.
Kris doesn't notice, eyes closed and humming happily around his spoon.
Adam sighs and looks around desolately. Mr. Stone, a retired high school geography teacher, is eating a greasy burger at the counter. He's wearing an ugly brown shirt with dried sweat stains under the pits and his bald head is shining under the fluorescent lights. Two girls Adam vaguely remembers from school are drinking milkshakes and gossiping in a corner table, and Kris' friends Cale and Andrew are in the next booth over, discussing something vehemently. They'll probably call Kris over to settle the discussion for them, which is sure to be about music, and then Adam will be left all alone here, with not even a salad to keep him company.
He hopes Brad shows up soon, or he might just die of boredom.
-
In Brad's defense, there's really nothing better to do in this town.
When there's school he at least gets to point and laugh at the horrendously dressed hordes of his peers to pass the time. His options are so much more limited during the summer. That's why he's been so preoccupied with Adam and his moods lately. It was either that or get a job, and Brad is just not sure if Belinda's Bakery is ready for his levels of fabulosity.
Brad has been worrying. As far as he's concerned it's his responsibility as the ex-boyfriend and the current best friend to worry about Adam. He knows Adam better than most after all, and he gets Adam, he really does. He can see this town killing Adam's sparkle little by little. Adam needs excitement. Drama. A love interest or two. Barring that, he needs a MAC store at the very least, where he can go and drown his sorrows in mascara and eyeliner.
Unfortunately, they don't have any of those things, and Adam is stuck in that rut he can't get out of. He doesn't even check out Brad's ass anymore, and that has to be a sign of some serious depression. Brad needs something to help revitalize Adam. Something to jumpstart his engine. Something to kick him in the nuts and then make it better-if you know what he means.
Something like Tommy, the new guy.
The first thing Brad thinks when he meets Tommy is that he's so damn pretty. The second is that he's exactly Adam's type. Small, fierce, adventurous. Brad is personally not a big fan of the hair, but he knows Adam will be. If he gets a bit overexcited at the thought, it's understandable. Who would have thought the solution would fall right into his lap-and then hopefully into Adam's?
He immediately befriends Tommy and drags him to meet the guys.
-
"Hi!" Brad waves excitedly from the door, bouncing towards the booth with Tommy in tow.
The response he gets is pitiful.
Kris is kneeling on the seat with his back to the table, discussing something with the plaid twins in the other booth, Neil is sitting across from him, inhaling a double cheeseburger. Adam is slumped next to Kris, looking bored and dejected.
Be gone foul mood! Brad thinks, giving Adam a dazzling smile and pulling Tommy down into the booth with him.
"Adam! Look what I found!"
Adam's eyebrows raise in-what? Surprise? Amazement? Worship? Then he smiles and offers a small wave. "Hi."
Brad stares into Adam's eyes-squints to see better-to check if the ooh-pretty-gimme gleam he gets around sparkly things is there, but he can't tell. The light reflecting off of Mr. Stone's bald head pretty much outshines everything in the room. He decides to give it time and makes the introductions. "Adam. New Guy. New Guy. Adam."
Kris turns around, finally, and plops his cute tushie down on the seat. "New guy doesn't have a name?" He offers a smile of his own to Tommy. "I'm Kris."
Tommy nods. "Tommy."
"I'm Adam," Adam says, "and that's my brother Neil."
Neil doesn't even look up.
"Yes, yes," Brad says, waving a hand. "Names are boring. We can call him Gorgeous Hair instead." He runs his fingers through the bleached fringe. "Isn't it awesome?"
Kris seems politely disinterested, but Adam is beaming as expected. Brad knows that the shortest way to Adam's heart goes through hair and makeup. "It's sick," he says, and then makes a face, tugging at his own hair. "Speaking of hair, my roots are showing again."
"You should just stop dying it," Kris comments. "Nothing's wrong with your natural hair color. It's not, like, horrible or anything."
"Aww." Adam wraps his arm around Kris and pulls him in close enough to smush his cheek against Kris' messy hair. "You're my best friend. You're supposed to like my dorky hair. The rest of the world, on the other hand..."
Brad heaves a sigh. "I'm your best friend, and I do think your hair is dorky." Does he constantly have to remind Adam of the status of their friendship? "You look infinitely better with black hair."
"You should get one of them a BFF bracelet or something," Neil mumbles, rolling his eyes. "Settle this once and for all."
Brad says, "Exactly. You should get your puppy a collar..." He looks meaningfully at Kris and continues, "And you can get me a bracelet. A place for everyone, and everyone in his place."
"Kinky," Adam says, checking to see if Kris is mad. He is so whipped it's not even funny.
"Woof," Kris intones, not amused but not angry either. That's Kris in a nutshell. He's bland. Brad doesn't mind him-he's chill, and his mom bakes great cookies-but he doesn't understand why Adam insists on hanging out with him 24/7.
They're like a little boy and his golden retriever puppy though; you just can't bear to tear them apart.
Brad watches them snuggle in their puppy pile of two and feels his hopes wither slowly. Why would anyone even date Adam when he's making it clear that his interest in people who are not Kris is bound to be measured in seconds-and just a few seconds at that? This can't be healthy, Brad thinks, as Adam sniffs Kris' hair. This isn't how friendship is supposed to work.
Adam Lambert is in a rut-a rut Brad shall henceforth call Kris Allen-and if Brad is going to break him out of it, he's going to need something better than a random blond.
Brad sneaks a glance at Tommy. At least they seem to have gotten a stylish new friend out of this.
-
An hour later finds Brad still sitting next to Tommy, plotting Kris Allen's hypothetical demise. Anvil to the head seems the best option. If it's good enough for Roadrunner, Brad guesses it will work for him as well.
"So what's the deal with those two?" Tommy asks, interrupting his thoughts. He nods towards the counter where Kris is chatting with Matt, and Adam, looking bored with the conversation, is biting on two of Kris' fingers.
Brad isn't sure whether Tommy's asking about the personal space issue they've got going on or the biting. He's been exposed to Kradam for far too long; he can't tell which would seem weirder to an outsider.
"What about them?"
"Are they, like, dating?"
Oh, that question. Brad has been subjected to that inquiry at least twice a week since-well, since Kris and Adam met, really. Theirs was an instantaneous thing. Friendship at first sight. And they've been inseparable ever since.
"No," he says. "They're not dating each other."
"Are you sure?"
Is he sure? What kind of a question is that? Brad is always sure. "Adam and I used to date, and Kris dated Katy O'Connell for a long time. And then Adam dated Sean Johnson, and then Thomas Hill, and that boy who moved to Seattle, and Kris dated-well, okay, I don't think Kris dated anyone else, or if he did, I didn't notice. But anyway, yeah, they date other people. They're not dating each other."
Tommy raises one thin eyebrow into a perfect arch. "They look like maybe they should be."
Yeah, somebody give the boy a prize.
"Kris Allen is a cockblocking menace," Brad informs him. "He's the perfect boy next door. You know-cute, affectionate, kind..."
"Puppy," Tommy says. There may be some hope for him yet.
"Right. He's a puppy. And Adam-is the rebel with a fabulous cause. Reason says they shouldn't be so tight, and yet..."
"Opposites attract," Tommy opines. "They could be kind of perfect for each other."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever-" Brad is waving him away when suddenly something occurs to him. Kris and Adam really could be perfect for each other. If Brad can't get rid of Kris to stick a boyfriend in his spot, maybe he could turn Kris into a boyfriend.
It sounds stupid and why would Adam even want to date a plaid-wearing goody-two-shoes, but opposites do attract and those two-they're like frickin' magnets.
"You're a genius," Brad says.
Tommy shrugs.
-
Brad ruminates on the issue for a long time-okay, just two days, but it feels long-and brings it up at movie night, after Kris and Adam fall asleep on top of each other on the couch.
"Man, if they wanted to date, they would just date," Matt says, wise beyond his years.
Brad rolls his eyes at him. "Spoken like a straight guy."
"And proud of it, bitch," Matt interjects.
Brad ignores him. "It's never that easy, and these two are especially thick. I think it's up to us to save them from themselves."
Matt stretches his legs with a groan. They're at Adam's house, in the living room, and with Kris and Adam on the couch, there aren't enough chairs to go around. Right now, Matt is sitting on the floor, his back against the love seat. Brad, of course, has claimed his regular spot in Mr. Lambert's recliner.
"I don't know, man," Matt says. "Is Kris even gay?"
Neil pipes up from the love seat. "Adam says he's straight. Kris says he might be bisexual."
"Right!" Brad points a finger at Neil, who's gobbling up the leftover popcorn and no longer seems interested in the issue of Kris' sexuality. "That's a clue right there! Every time Adam says Kris is straight, Kris corrects him. And every time, Adam ignores it."
"You mean they just got their wires crossed?" Tommy asks, looking doubtful. Brad forgives him since he's new and hasn't yet seen the full extent of the Kradam idiocy.
"It's not that simple. I don't think they even realize-well, Adam, at least, is clueless about what he wants. He goes on the occasional half-hearted date, but doesn't he always look like he'd rather stay with Kris instead? And-have you noticed how Kris never hangs out with us when Adam's out on a date? He goes to band practice with the plaid dudes. I bet he sulks all day."
Brad sure hopes Kris sulks all day. One boy clueless, the other pining, he can deal with. If they're both clueless, he might be in over his head.
The guys don't look convinced but Brad is on a roll.
"They act like they're dating, but that's not gonna last. What happens when they graduate and end up in different cities and different schools? I'm pretty sure Adam is going to New York, and Kris is probably not going after him. Because, see, you don't do that kind of thing for a friend."
"That's depressing. I can't even imagine them apart," Matt says. "You want me to talk to Kris? See where he's at?"
Brad shakes his head. "Actually, I think Kris is the easy one."
"The straight guy who goes to church is the easy one?" Tommy asks, incredulous.
Oh, grasshopper, Brad thinks. You still have a lot to learn.
"He insists on being called bisexual," he reminds them. "He doesn't date guys, he doesn't even check them out, but he makes it a point to correct Adam on his hypothetical sexual orientation. Why would anyone do that? So he can get his share of the bullying in school? No, I'm pretty sure Kris knows. It's Adam that's in denial here."
"It could be that he's trying to fit in?" Tommy makes a guess. "I mean, look at the crowd he hangs with."
"Kris would fit in anywhere," Brad tells him. "He goes to Mrs. Roberts' poker nights and plays poker with a bunch of ancient women. He's universally likable. Told you-boy next door." He nods to himself. "Kris doesn't need convincing. We need to target Adam and force his hand."
"Lock them in a cupboard," Neil suggests.
Brad scoffs. "Do they look like they have a problem with proximity?"
They all turn towards the couch where Kris is sleeping on top of Adam and Adam's hand is wrapped around Kris' waist, thumb resting on Kris' skin where his shirt has ridden up.
"Right," Matt says. "They'd probably just snuggle and wait for us to let them out."
Brad purses his lips. "Yeah. It's not gonna be that easy. We need to think big."
-
Tommy doesn't mind being Brad's sounding board-even if he has to listen to Brad's half-mad mumblings for hours on end-but he's a bit concerned about how invested Brad is in this situation with Kris and Adam.
At first, Tommy thought Brad still had a thing for Adam and was, like, trying to make him happy in a roundabout way or something, but it didn't take long for him to see that that's not the case. Brad loves Adam alright, but like a friend. A really close friend. Or maybe like a brother. A brother he lost his virginity to. Except not in a creepy way.
They're really close is what he's saying.
Then he considered jealousy, that Brad wanted to get rid of Kris somehow, be Adam's only best friend, but aside from finding him dull and calling him a puppy, Brad isn't really hostile towards Kris. He actually seems to consider Kris a decent guy-with a cute butt even-and thinks it's a tragedy that his closet is full of plaid shirts.
No, no, Brad doesn't have some secret, malicious motive for this. In fact, Tommy has come to the conclusion that he's doing it out of boredom. And that's scary, because-if this is Brad being bored, what would he be like when he actually wants something?
Tommy pictures Brad as the first gay president of the United States, ordering the White House to be painted in a rainbow of colors, and it doesn't seem that farfetched.
"Kris is a teddy bear," Brad says in that faraway, I'm-busy-plotting tone of his, bringing Tommy out of his colorful fantasy.
"What does that even mean?" Tommy asks. It's better to keep asking questions, or Brad gets completely lost in his own mind.
"Sexless," Brad says, like that explains it all.
"I'm pretty sure he has genitals," Tommy tells him, though come to think of it, Kris' jeans are on the baggy side.
Brad rolls his eyes. "That's not the point. It doesn't matter if they have genitals or not, teddy bears are just not sexy. They're cuddly, and warm, and safe. That's Kris. A teddy bear. But we need him to be sexy."
"Are we talking about a makeover here? Because that might not be the best idea." Tommy doubts Kris would go along with something like that. The boy has his own style. Kind of.
Brad waves a hand at him. "Of course not. What use would it be to put him in sexy clothes when he'll just blush and look awkward in them? No, we need to harness Kris' own sex appeal."
"You just said he didn't have any."
"No, no. Well, yes, but not like-he's not literally a teddy bear. Kris can be sexy; he has that potential. He just can't do it when he means to. Not that I've ever seen him really mean it. He's not like Adam. He likes to blend in, not stand out." He looks confused for a second. "I don't get that boy at all." Desperate eyes meet Tommy's, and Brad whines, "I can't empathize with him at all. This is really hard to do when I can't empathize."
Brad gets up, starts pacing the room. Tommy sighs and makes himself comfortable on the bed. He was hoping for lunch at the diner, but it looks like they'll be staying in after all.
"Clothes won't work. Well, maybe we can get him some new jeans, because those things he wears look horrible on him-but anyway, not clothes. It's what's under the clothes."
"You want him naked?"
Brad stops in his tracks. "God, no. He'd be self-conscious and he'd blush and stammer... unless... unless he didn't know..."
"Ooo-kay, you're really starting to sound creepy now."
Brad makes a face. "That's not what I meant. What I'm saying is-I think..."
"What?"
Brad raises his head decisively. "I think we need to trick him into being sexy," he declares.
Tommy doesn't even know what to say to that.
"Right. That shouldn't be a problem at all."
The thing is, he kind of thinks Brad can do it.
-
The next day, Brad hunts down Katy O'Connell.
It's not easy, because to Brad she's just a peppy, uninteresting blonde girl in a sea of peppy, uninteresting blonde girls-it's like an infestation in their school-and he doesn't know anything about her other than the fact that she dated Kris for a long time and was dumped one day, quite unexpectedly.
She didn't cry; Brad remembers that much. She'd been angry at Kris-which she eventually must have gotten over, because she and Kris are still friends, sort of. But she didn't cry and she didn't walk around all hurt and fragile. She's a tough girl.
While Brad knows all these inconsequential little details about her love life, he doesn't quite remember what she looks like, so he dusts off his yearbook and finds her picture... which doesn't really help in the end, because it doesn't come with an address attached.
He ends up having to resort to talking to the plaid guys who look at him distrustfully and call him dude. Brad shudders a little as he leaves Plaid Guy #1's house and heads off in the direction they pointed him in.
Katy O'Connell's house isn't far.
-
"You want to know why I liked Kris?" Katy asks, incredulous.
"No, I want to know why you thought he was sexy," Brad clarifies. On second thought he adds, "You did find him sexy, right? You guys dated for months, so I'm assuming."
"I..." Katy blushes. "That's none of your business!"
Brad raises his hands up, placating. "It's for a good cause, I swear. I need him at his best, okay? I need him to look sexy and irresistible, but-I'm sure you've seen him do the sexy face?"
Katy chuckles. Her ponytail sways from side to side. She has really shiny hair. Brad wonders what kind of conditioner she uses.
"Right," Katy says. "That's-he should definitely avoid doing that."
"Definitely. But how do I get him to stop looking like a goof and, like, get an actual smoldering look out of him?"
"I don't know about smoldering," Katy drawls, "but when he's focused on something and forgets there are other people around, he can be pretty sexy."
Brad ignores her flushed cheeks. Seriously, small town girls. "Focused on something. Like what?"
"Like... when he's working out. He does have a nice body; he just hides it well. And when he's singing, sometimes. Playing the piano. Things like that."
Okay, Brad can work with that. "Nice body. Singing. Right. Okay."
"It wouldn't work every time, but it's a start. You'd need a good song, something he really likes. Something romantic would be best."
She shrugs, looks uncomfortable for a moment. Brad would wonder if she still had feelings for Kris, but he honestly doesn't have the time.
"Katy O'Connell, you're my new favorite person," he says, and then checks his watch and amends, "Until five o'clock or so. After that, the title will probably go back to Adam."
Katy smiles indulgently, but Brad can feel her rolling her eyes at him behind his back.
-
"Oh, I know! I know!" Neil says excitedly. "Get them really dirty and lock them in a shower together! Naked!"
Matt hands him a milkshake to shut him up. "You worry me, kid."
-
Cale likes Matt. Matt is good people. Cale does have his reservations about the crowd Matt runs with, but Matt himself? He's solid.
Following Matt into a room decorated in silver and shades of blue, he wonders if he shouldn't have trusted the guy so easily though. The place looks like the inside of a spaceship made out of disco balls. There's so much silver. Sparkly and glittery silver. "Um. What exactly am I doing here?"
He spots Andrew in the far corner, sitting in a chair and looking confused, and exhales, relieved to see that he's not the only one that's been abducted by aliens. "Hey," he says, "You know what's going on?"
Andrew shrugs and shakes his head. He looks nervous; he's sitting on his hands and fidgeting. Cale decides to stick with him and perches on the arm of his chair.
There's Neil Lambert, sitting cross-legged on the bed and looking bored, Matt, of course, is sprawled on the floor, and the new guy with the hair (Cale doesn't know his name) is leafing through a magazine on the bed. Just as Cale is about to ask if Kris is gonna be there, Brad enters the room, giving them his usual sweeping you're-not-even-here look.
Why did they even bring the two of them here?
"I solved our problem," Brad says, hands raised regally, as if he's making an important announcement to his people.
"You mean your problem, which you're only making yours because you have nothing better to do."
That's the new guy. Cale kind of likes him. He looks unimpressed with Brad, which Cale knows from experience is hard to do. Like him or not, Brad is certainly impressive.
"Whatever," Brad says. "Tommy's opinions don't count; he's new." He sits on a stool in one corner, where he can take in the whole room, and crosses his legs. "Unless," he adds, "he comes up with something awesome. Then we'll revisit his status."
"So," Matt says, making a rolling motion with one hand. "I've got a date. Can we wrap this up quickly please?"
Brad deflates a little. "Whatever," he says. "I've already done the hard work anyway. To get Kris and Adam together, we're going to need a new pair of jeans, a piano, and a kiss from Tommy."
"What now?" Tommy says, dropping his magazine.
Cale's eyebrows climb up. This is an odd bunch. They never talk about shit like this when he's with his friends.
"You need to kiss Kris," Brad says to Tommy.
Tommy shakes his head. "I need to do no such thing."
"It's for a good cause!" Brad exclaims, agitated.
"I'm frickin' straight!" Tommy exclaims back, exasperated.
There's a moment of silence, and then-"You are?"
Cale only realizes that he was the one that spoke when he sees everyone looking at him in shock.
What? He talks.
"Well, yeah," Tommy says finally, flicking back his hair. "Way to stereotype, guys. Congratulations."
"Dammit," Brad says, leaning his head back and hitting it against the wall. "I can't believe you're ruining my plan again. Dammit." He knocks his head back once, twice, three times, and then he sits up, his face transformed by a huge grin-transformed into the face of a deranged chipmunk, but at least he looks happy in his own way.
"Correction," he says, using that announcement tone again. "To get Kris and Adam together, we're going to need a new pair of jeans, a piano, and two hundred and fifty dollars in cash!"
He looks around expectantly, and when no one moves, he claps his hands impatiently. "That means you all give me your money now! Chop chop!"
"Oh, man," Neil groans. "This is like getting my lunch money stolen all over again."
Continue
Pairing: Kris/Adam
Rating: PG-13
Length: 11,500 words
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction.
Warnings: None.
Notes: Written for kradam_kiss and helpsomalia for sorchasilver who asked for clueless boys and meddling friends. HS AU, ridiculous premise, even more ridiculous characterizations. Canon has been ignored like woah. In fact, I think this fic should be in a category called Canon, What Canon?
Beta by sbb23.
Summary: In Brad’s defense, there’s really nothing better to do in this town.
Kris arrives at the Lambert residence at 7 AM sharp. A surly looking Neil answers the door.
"Oh, good," Neil says, face impassive. "Maybe you can wake him up. He's gonna be late again if he doesn't get going soon."
Neil turns on his heels and walks into the kitchen, leaving Kris alone in the doorway. Kris doesn't blame him; something smells delicious in there.
"Kris, is that you, honey?" Mrs. Lambert calls, her voice pleasant and welcoming as always.
Kris kicks off his shoes and shuts the door. "Yes, Mrs. Lambert. I'm going to go check on Adam."
She says something indistinct in reply, which is followed by a series of clattering sounds. She's setting the table, Kris thinks, stomach growling on cue. He hopes Adam gets up before Neil eats everything. Not everyone can live on salad and air like Adam does.
The basement is dark and it smells a bit like gym socks. The carpeted stairs let out familiar creaks and groans as Kris descends, and once he's down, he finds Adam's room completely trashed-clothes, makeup, hair products everywhere.
He walks slowly, careful not to step on anything. Despite appearances, Adam does value his possessions greatly. He's like a dragon, hoarding gold and jewels in his lair to admire and play with. That he doesn't have any real use for them doesn't mean he won't protect them with his dying breath.
Kris is used to Adam's irrational love affair with shiny and sparkly and ultimately useless things. He's learned to just go with it.
Adam is still in bed, wrapped in his dark purple sheets with only the top of his head peeking out. Kris considers how to go about waking him, draws up a game plan in his mind, and then tentatively says, "Adam."
The lump in the bed moves, one foot kicking free of the comforter. Kris' eyes are drawn to the freckles dusting Adam's ankle and the nail polish he must have put on last night. It's jade green.
Kris tickles the sole of Adam's foot-too tempting-and Adam makes a whiny sound in his throat.
"Whadayawan?"
"We're gonna be late," Kris tells him.
He pokes the sheets in a couple of places gently, trying to locate an arm he can nudge or pull, but he forgets for a moment not to get too close-that Adam can be as fast and ruthless as the deadliest predator when his sleep is threatened. In a blink, he's in Adam's clutches, toppled into the bed with Adam's arms and legs wrapped around him, completely incapacitating him.
"Hello to you too," Kris mutters, spitting out the corner of the sheet that somehow ended up in his mouth. He wiggles experimentally, trying to break free, but Adam's hold is firm. Kris can only move his head, his fingers, and his left leg. Taking stock of his options, he decides to go with a glare-which Adam deigns to open one eye to meet.
"Mornin'," Adam says.
Kris keeps glaring.
"Do we have to?" Adam whines, trying to hide his face between the pillow and Kris' shoulder.
Kris nudges him with an elbow.
"Don't wanna."
The whiny, sleepy tone is making Kris want to bite Adam, just to make it stop, or to give up and go to sleep himself to pacify him, but before he can decide what to do-bite, pinch, snuggle?-the basement door clicks open and Mrs. Lambert comes down.
Seeing Adam still in bed and wrapped around Kris like an octopus, she sighs. "Adam." The name is uttered with the longsuffering tones of a mother who's had to put up with her son's crap for years. Kris is pretty sure he uses an approximation of the same tone unconsciously sometimes when he's talking to Adam. Adam just brings that out in a person.
Adam shakes his head as if to say there's no one here by that name, prompting Mrs. Lambert to share an exasperated look with Kris.
"Adam, you're going to miss breakfast, and you're going to be late for work." She pauses, gets no response, and continues. "And if you keep treating him like this, one of these days Kris is going to find himself a new best friend."
That gets Adam moving-though unfortunately not in the right direction.
He heaves himself up with a deep, protesting sound, and plops back down on Kris.
Kris yelps, tries to shrug him off, but it's too late. Adam is already a dead weight on his chest, arms and legs spread-eagled for maximum coverage.
Mrs. Lambert looks amused.
"He used to lick his toys when he was a kid, so Neil wouldn't try and take them from him," she tells Kris with half a smile, and then turns and abandons him to his fate.
Adam's hair tickles Kris' nose. Kris wonders if he should be grateful that Adam isn't licking him.
"Adam? Adam, I can't breathe."
Adam snuffles into Kris' neck and keeps on sleeping.
-
Adam takes the seat across from Kris and drops the small paper bag he brought with him on the table. Kris beams at him. The straw in his mouth drops back into his half-full glass of coke, and he pulls the bag closer, opening it with the same enthusiasm he does every day.
Taking in the cup of frozen yogurt inside, his eyes shine. "Cookie dough?"
Adam nods. "With peanuts."
As Kris inhales his yogurt, making noises that would make a porn star blush, Adam looks away. He feels himself getting fatter every time he looks at one of those things-and he has to look at them all day. He should never have let Kris talk him into getting a job at the yogurt shop. He got carried away with the idea of a shiny new car-or a less rusty one anyway-for college and forgot that he'd have to get up at the crack of dawn and clean up after people every day.
People are pigs, seriously. Adam should've held out for a better job, like maybe at the record store with Kris. That would have been a tolerable way to spend his summer, and he and Kris would have had more time to hang out. He bets they don't even have sticky yogurt residue on the counters there.
The diner is quiet tonight. There's probably a game on or something. Kris would know. The diner's TV has been broken since probably the late 70s, so it's always deserted on game nights. The place is ancient anyway, it doesn't even have a proper sound system. The jukebox is all they've got in the form of entertainment.
Matt waves at him from behind the counter, making a gesture that Adam guesses is supposed to mean you want anything? Matt is probably the laziest waiter the town has ever had the misfortune of seeing. Adam thinks they would have fired his ass long ago if his great aunt didn't own the place. Adam shakes his head at him and steals a sip of Kris' coke.
Kris doesn't notice, eyes closed and humming happily around his spoon.
Adam sighs and looks around desolately. Mr. Stone, a retired high school geography teacher, is eating a greasy burger at the counter. He's wearing an ugly brown shirt with dried sweat stains under the pits and his bald head is shining under the fluorescent lights. Two girls Adam vaguely remembers from school are drinking milkshakes and gossiping in a corner table, and Kris' friends Cale and Andrew are in the next booth over, discussing something vehemently. They'll probably call Kris over to settle the discussion for them, which is sure to be about music, and then Adam will be left all alone here, with not even a salad to keep him company.
He hopes Brad shows up soon, or he might just die of boredom.
-
In Brad's defense, there's really nothing better to do in this town.
When there's school he at least gets to point and laugh at the horrendously dressed hordes of his peers to pass the time. His options are so much more limited during the summer. That's why he's been so preoccupied with Adam and his moods lately. It was either that or get a job, and Brad is just not sure if Belinda's Bakery is ready for his levels of fabulosity.
Brad has been worrying. As far as he's concerned it's his responsibility as the ex-boyfriend and the current best friend to worry about Adam. He knows Adam better than most after all, and he gets Adam, he really does. He can see this town killing Adam's sparkle little by little. Adam needs excitement. Drama. A love interest or two. Barring that, he needs a MAC store at the very least, where he can go and drown his sorrows in mascara and eyeliner.
Unfortunately, they don't have any of those things, and Adam is stuck in that rut he can't get out of. He doesn't even check out Brad's ass anymore, and that has to be a sign of some serious depression. Brad needs something to help revitalize Adam. Something to jumpstart his engine. Something to kick him in the nuts and then make it better-if you know what he means.
Something like Tommy, the new guy.
The first thing Brad thinks when he meets Tommy is that he's so damn pretty. The second is that he's exactly Adam's type. Small, fierce, adventurous. Brad is personally not a big fan of the hair, but he knows Adam will be. If he gets a bit overexcited at the thought, it's understandable. Who would have thought the solution would fall right into his lap-and then hopefully into Adam's?
He immediately befriends Tommy and drags him to meet the guys.
-
"Hi!" Brad waves excitedly from the door, bouncing towards the booth with Tommy in tow.
The response he gets is pitiful.
Kris is kneeling on the seat with his back to the table, discussing something with the plaid twins in the other booth, Neil is sitting across from him, inhaling a double cheeseburger. Adam is slumped next to Kris, looking bored and dejected.
Be gone foul mood! Brad thinks, giving Adam a dazzling smile and pulling Tommy down into the booth with him.
"Adam! Look what I found!"
Adam's eyebrows raise in-what? Surprise? Amazement? Worship? Then he smiles and offers a small wave. "Hi."
Brad stares into Adam's eyes-squints to see better-to check if the ooh-pretty-gimme gleam he gets around sparkly things is there, but he can't tell. The light reflecting off of Mr. Stone's bald head pretty much outshines everything in the room. He decides to give it time and makes the introductions. "Adam. New Guy. New Guy. Adam."
Kris turns around, finally, and plops his cute tushie down on the seat. "New guy doesn't have a name?" He offers a smile of his own to Tommy. "I'm Kris."
Tommy nods. "Tommy."
"I'm Adam," Adam says, "and that's my brother Neil."
Neil doesn't even look up.
"Yes, yes," Brad says, waving a hand. "Names are boring. We can call him Gorgeous Hair instead." He runs his fingers through the bleached fringe. "Isn't it awesome?"
Kris seems politely disinterested, but Adam is beaming as expected. Brad knows that the shortest way to Adam's heart goes through hair and makeup. "It's sick," he says, and then makes a face, tugging at his own hair. "Speaking of hair, my roots are showing again."
"You should just stop dying it," Kris comments. "Nothing's wrong with your natural hair color. It's not, like, horrible or anything."
"Aww." Adam wraps his arm around Kris and pulls him in close enough to smush his cheek against Kris' messy hair. "You're my best friend. You're supposed to like my dorky hair. The rest of the world, on the other hand..."
Brad heaves a sigh. "I'm your best friend, and I do think your hair is dorky." Does he constantly have to remind Adam of the status of their friendship? "You look infinitely better with black hair."
"You should get one of them a BFF bracelet or something," Neil mumbles, rolling his eyes. "Settle this once and for all."
Brad says, "Exactly. You should get your puppy a collar..." He looks meaningfully at Kris and continues, "And you can get me a bracelet. A place for everyone, and everyone in his place."
"Kinky," Adam says, checking to see if Kris is mad. He is so whipped it's not even funny.
"Woof," Kris intones, not amused but not angry either. That's Kris in a nutshell. He's bland. Brad doesn't mind him-he's chill, and his mom bakes great cookies-but he doesn't understand why Adam insists on hanging out with him 24/7.
They're like a little boy and his golden retriever puppy though; you just can't bear to tear them apart.
Brad watches them snuggle in their puppy pile of two and feels his hopes wither slowly. Why would anyone even date Adam when he's making it clear that his interest in people who are not Kris is bound to be measured in seconds-and just a few seconds at that? This can't be healthy, Brad thinks, as Adam sniffs Kris' hair. This isn't how friendship is supposed to work.
Adam Lambert is in a rut-a rut Brad shall henceforth call Kris Allen-and if Brad is going to break him out of it, he's going to need something better than a random blond.
Brad sneaks a glance at Tommy. At least they seem to have gotten a stylish new friend out of this.
-
An hour later finds Brad still sitting next to Tommy, plotting Kris Allen's hypothetical demise. Anvil to the head seems the best option. If it's good enough for Roadrunner, Brad guesses it will work for him as well.
"So what's the deal with those two?" Tommy asks, interrupting his thoughts. He nods towards the counter where Kris is chatting with Matt, and Adam, looking bored with the conversation, is biting on two of Kris' fingers.
Brad isn't sure whether Tommy's asking about the personal space issue they've got going on or the biting. He's been exposed to Kradam for far too long; he can't tell which would seem weirder to an outsider.
"What about them?"
"Are they, like, dating?"
Oh, that question. Brad has been subjected to that inquiry at least twice a week since-well, since Kris and Adam met, really. Theirs was an instantaneous thing. Friendship at first sight. And they've been inseparable ever since.
"No," he says. "They're not dating each other."
"Are you sure?"
Is he sure? What kind of a question is that? Brad is always sure. "Adam and I used to date, and Kris dated Katy O'Connell for a long time. And then Adam dated Sean Johnson, and then Thomas Hill, and that boy who moved to Seattle, and Kris dated-well, okay, I don't think Kris dated anyone else, or if he did, I didn't notice. But anyway, yeah, they date other people. They're not dating each other."
Tommy raises one thin eyebrow into a perfect arch. "They look like maybe they should be."
Yeah, somebody give the boy a prize.
"Kris Allen is a cockblocking menace," Brad informs him. "He's the perfect boy next door. You know-cute, affectionate, kind..."
"Puppy," Tommy says. There may be some hope for him yet.
"Right. He's a puppy. And Adam-is the rebel with a fabulous cause. Reason says they shouldn't be so tight, and yet..."
"Opposites attract," Tommy opines. "They could be kind of perfect for each other."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever-" Brad is waving him away when suddenly something occurs to him. Kris and Adam really could be perfect for each other. If Brad can't get rid of Kris to stick a boyfriend in his spot, maybe he could turn Kris into a boyfriend.
It sounds stupid and why would Adam even want to date a plaid-wearing goody-two-shoes, but opposites do attract and those two-they're like frickin' magnets.
"You're a genius," Brad says.
Tommy shrugs.
-
Brad ruminates on the issue for a long time-okay, just two days, but it feels long-and brings it up at movie night, after Kris and Adam fall asleep on top of each other on the couch.
"Man, if they wanted to date, they would just date," Matt says, wise beyond his years.
Brad rolls his eyes at him. "Spoken like a straight guy."
"And proud of it, bitch," Matt interjects.
Brad ignores him. "It's never that easy, and these two are especially thick. I think it's up to us to save them from themselves."
Matt stretches his legs with a groan. They're at Adam's house, in the living room, and with Kris and Adam on the couch, there aren't enough chairs to go around. Right now, Matt is sitting on the floor, his back against the love seat. Brad, of course, has claimed his regular spot in Mr. Lambert's recliner.
"I don't know, man," Matt says. "Is Kris even gay?"
Neil pipes up from the love seat. "Adam says he's straight. Kris says he might be bisexual."
"Right!" Brad points a finger at Neil, who's gobbling up the leftover popcorn and no longer seems interested in the issue of Kris' sexuality. "That's a clue right there! Every time Adam says Kris is straight, Kris corrects him. And every time, Adam ignores it."
"You mean they just got their wires crossed?" Tommy asks, looking doubtful. Brad forgives him since he's new and hasn't yet seen the full extent of the Kradam idiocy.
"It's not that simple. I don't think they even realize-well, Adam, at least, is clueless about what he wants. He goes on the occasional half-hearted date, but doesn't he always look like he'd rather stay with Kris instead? And-have you noticed how Kris never hangs out with us when Adam's out on a date? He goes to band practice with the plaid dudes. I bet he sulks all day."
Brad sure hopes Kris sulks all day. One boy clueless, the other pining, he can deal with. If they're both clueless, he might be in over his head.
The guys don't look convinced but Brad is on a roll.
"They act like they're dating, but that's not gonna last. What happens when they graduate and end up in different cities and different schools? I'm pretty sure Adam is going to New York, and Kris is probably not going after him. Because, see, you don't do that kind of thing for a friend."
"That's depressing. I can't even imagine them apart," Matt says. "You want me to talk to Kris? See where he's at?"
Brad shakes his head. "Actually, I think Kris is the easy one."
"The straight guy who goes to church is the easy one?" Tommy asks, incredulous.
Oh, grasshopper, Brad thinks. You still have a lot to learn.
"He insists on being called bisexual," he reminds them. "He doesn't date guys, he doesn't even check them out, but he makes it a point to correct Adam on his hypothetical sexual orientation. Why would anyone do that? So he can get his share of the bullying in school? No, I'm pretty sure Kris knows. It's Adam that's in denial here."
"It could be that he's trying to fit in?" Tommy makes a guess. "I mean, look at the crowd he hangs with."
"Kris would fit in anywhere," Brad tells him. "He goes to Mrs. Roberts' poker nights and plays poker with a bunch of ancient women. He's universally likable. Told you-boy next door." He nods to himself. "Kris doesn't need convincing. We need to target Adam and force his hand."
"Lock them in a cupboard," Neil suggests.
Brad scoffs. "Do they look like they have a problem with proximity?"
They all turn towards the couch where Kris is sleeping on top of Adam and Adam's hand is wrapped around Kris' waist, thumb resting on Kris' skin where his shirt has ridden up.
"Right," Matt says. "They'd probably just snuggle and wait for us to let them out."
Brad purses his lips. "Yeah. It's not gonna be that easy. We need to think big."
-
Tommy doesn't mind being Brad's sounding board-even if he has to listen to Brad's half-mad mumblings for hours on end-but he's a bit concerned about how invested Brad is in this situation with Kris and Adam.
At first, Tommy thought Brad still had a thing for Adam and was, like, trying to make him happy in a roundabout way or something, but it didn't take long for him to see that that's not the case. Brad loves Adam alright, but like a friend. A really close friend. Or maybe like a brother. A brother he lost his virginity to. Except not in a creepy way.
They're really close is what he's saying.
Then he considered jealousy, that Brad wanted to get rid of Kris somehow, be Adam's only best friend, but aside from finding him dull and calling him a puppy, Brad isn't really hostile towards Kris. He actually seems to consider Kris a decent guy-with a cute butt even-and thinks it's a tragedy that his closet is full of plaid shirts.
No, no, Brad doesn't have some secret, malicious motive for this. In fact, Tommy has come to the conclusion that he's doing it out of boredom. And that's scary, because-if this is Brad being bored, what would he be like when he actually wants something?
Tommy pictures Brad as the first gay president of the United States, ordering the White House to be painted in a rainbow of colors, and it doesn't seem that farfetched.
"Kris is a teddy bear," Brad says in that faraway, I'm-busy-plotting tone of his, bringing Tommy out of his colorful fantasy.
"What does that even mean?" Tommy asks. It's better to keep asking questions, or Brad gets completely lost in his own mind.
"Sexless," Brad says, like that explains it all.
"I'm pretty sure he has genitals," Tommy tells him, though come to think of it, Kris' jeans are on the baggy side.
Brad rolls his eyes. "That's not the point. It doesn't matter if they have genitals or not, teddy bears are just not sexy. They're cuddly, and warm, and safe. That's Kris. A teddy bear. But we need him to be sexy."
"Are we talking about a makeover here? Because that might not be the best idea." Tommy doubts Kris would go along with something like that. The boy has his own style. Kind of.
Brad waves a hand at him. "Of course not. What use would it be to put him in sexy clothes when he'll just blush and look awkward in them? No, we need to harness Kris' own sex appeal."
"You just said he didn't have any."
"No, no. Well, yes, but not like-he's not literally a teddy bear. Kris can be sexy; he has that potential. He just can't do it when he means to. Not that I've ever seen him really mean it. He's not like Adam. He likes to blend in, not stand out." He looks confused for a second. "I don't get that boy at all." Desperate eyes meet Tommy's, and Brad whines, "I can't empathize with him at all. This is really hard to do when I can't empathize."
Brad gets up, starts pacing the room. Tommy sighs and makes himself comfortable on the bed. He was hoping for lunch at the diner, but it looks like they'll be staying in after all.
"Clothes won't work. Well, maybe we can get him some new jeans, because those things he wears look horrible on him-but anyway, not clothes. It's what's under the clothes."
"You want him naked?"
Brad stops in his tracks. "God, no. He'd be self-conscious and he'd blush and stammer... unless... unless he didn't know..."
"Ooo-kay, you're really starting to sound creepy now."
Brad makes a face. "That's not what I meant. What I'm saying is-I think..."
"What?"
Brad raises his head decisively. "I think we need to trick him into being sexy," he declares.
Tommy doesn't even know what to say to that.
"Right. That shouldn't be a problem at all."
The thing is, he kind of thinks Brad can do it.
-
The next day, Brad hunts down Katy O'Connell.
It's not easy, because to Brad she's just a peppy, uninteresting blonde girl in a sea of peppy, uninteresting blonde girls-it's like an infestation in their school-and he doesn't know anything about her other than the fact that she dated Kris for a long time and was dumped one day, quite unexpectedly.
She didn't cry; Brad remembers that much. She'd been angry at Kris-which she eventually must have gotten over, because she and Kris are still friends, sort of. But she didn't cry and she didn't walk around all hurt and fragile. She's a tough girl.
While Brad knows all these inconsequential little details about her love life, he doesn't quite remember what she looks like, so he dusts off his yearbook and finds her picture... which doesn't really help in the end, because it doesn't come with an address attached.
He ends up having to resort to talking to the plaid guys who look at him distrustfully and call him dude. Brad shudders a little as he leaves Plaid Guy #1's house and heads off in the direction they pointed him in.
Katy O'Connell's house isn't far.
-
"You want to know why I liked Kris?" Katy asks, incredulous.
"No, I want to know why you thought he was sexy," Brad clarifies. On second thought he adds, "You did find him sexy, right? You guys dated for months, so I'm assuming."
"I..." Katy blushes. "That's none of your business!"
Brad raises his hands up, placating. "It's for a good cause, I swear. I need him at his best, okay? I need him to look sexy and irresistible, but-I'm sure you've seen him do the sexy face?"
Katy chuckles. Her ponytail sways from side to side. She has really shiny hair. Brad wonders what kind of conditioner she uses.
"Right," Katy says. "That's-he should definitely avoid doing that."
"Definitely. But how do I get him to stop looking like a goof and, like, get an actual smoldering look out of him?"
"I don't know about smoldering," Katy drawls, "but when he's focused on something and forgets there are other people around, he can be pretty sexy."
Brad ignores her flushed cheeks. Seriously, small town girls. "Focused on something. Like what?"
"Like... when he's working out. He does have a nice body; he just hides it well. And when he's singing, sometimes. Playing the piano. Things like that."
Okay, Brad can work with that. "Nice body. Singing. Right. Okay."
"It wouldn't work every time, but it's a start. You'd need a good song, something he really likes. Something romantic would be best."
She shrugs, looks uncomfortable for a moment. Brad would wonder if she still had feelings for Kris, but he honestly doesn't have the time.
"Katy O'Connell, you're my new favorite person," he says, and then checks his watch and amends, "Until five o'clock or so. After that, the title will probably go back to Adam."
Katy smiles indulgently, but Brad can feel her rolling her eyes at him behind his back.
-
"Oh, I know! I know!" Neil says excitedly. "Get them really dirty and lock them in a shower together! Naked!"
Matt hands him a milkshake to shut him up. "You worry me, kid."
-
Cale likes Matt. Matt is good people. Cale does have his reservations about the crowd Matt runs with, but Matt himself? He's solid.
Following Matt into a room decorated in silver and shades of blue, he wonders if he shouldn't have trusted the guy so easily though. The place looks like the inside of a spaceship made out of disco balls. There's so much silver. Sparkly and glittery silver. "Um. What exactly am I doing here?"
He spots Andrew in the far corner, sitting in a chair and looking confused, and exhales, relieved to see that he's not the only one that's been abducted by aliens. "Hey," he says, "You know what's going on?"
Andrew shrugs and shakes his head. He looks nervous; he's sitting on his hands and fidgeting. Cale decides to stick with him and perches on the arm of his chair.
There's Neil Lambert, sitting cross-legged on the bed and looking bored, Matt, of course, is sprawled on the floor, and the new guy with the hair (Cale doesn't know his name) is leafing through a magazine on the bed. Just as Cale is about to ask if Kris is gonna be there, Brad enters the room, giving them his usual sweeping you're-not-even-here look.
Why did they even bring the two of them here?
"I solved our problem," Brad says, hands raised regally, as if he's making an important announcement to his people.
"You mean your problem, which you're only making yours because you have nothing better to do."
That's the new guy. Cale kind of likes him. He looks unimpressed with Brad, which Cale knows from experience is hard to do. Like him or not, Brad is certainly impressive.
"Whatever," Brad says. "Tommy's opinions don't count; he's new." He sits on a stool in one corner, where he can take in the whole room, and crosses his legs. "Unless," he adds, "he comes up with something awesome. Then we'll revisit his status."
"So," Matt says, making a rolling motion with one hand. "I've got a date. Can we wrap this up quickly please?"
Brad deflates a little. "Whatever," he says. "I've already done the hard work anyway. To get Kris and Adam together, we're going to need a new pair of jeans, a piano, and a kiss from Tommy."
"What now?" Tommy says, dropping his magazine.
Cale's eyebrows climb up. This is an odd bunch. They never talk about shit like this when he's with his friends.
"You need to kiss Kris," Brad says to Tommy.
Tommy shakes his head. "I need to do no such thing."
"It's for a good cause!" Brad exclaims, agitated.
"I'm frickin' straight!" Tommy exclaims back, exasperated.
There's a moment of silence, and then-"You are?"
Cale only realizes that he was the one that spoke when he sees everyone looking at him in shock.
What? He talks.
"Well, yeah," Tommy says finally, flicking back his hair. "Way to stereotype, guys. Congratulations."
"Dammit," Brad says, leaning his head back and hitting it against the wall. "I can't believe you're ruining my plan again. Dammit." He knocks his head back once, twice, three times, and then he sits up, his face transformed by a huge grin-transformed into the face of a deranged chipmunk, but at least he looks happy in his own way.
"Correction," he says, using that announcement tone again. "To get Kris and Adam together, we're going to need a new pair of jeans, a piano, and two hundred and fifty dollars in cash!"
He looks around expectantly, and when no one moves, he claps his hands impatiently. "That means you all give me your money now! Chop chop!"
"Oh, man," Neil groans. "This is like getting my lunch money stolen all over again."
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