Fic: Dazed and Clueless, 2/2
Header Info and Previous Part
"One hundred and seventy dollars," Brad says. "Not bad." He puts the money on his dresser and turns to Neil. "Your mother, I think, can give us the rest."
"Why would she do that?" Neil asks, skeptical.
"I'm sure she's sick of watching those two being clueless by now. And she does approve of Kris."
Everyone nods at that. Who wouldn't approve of Kris? Even Brad approves of Kris in a way.
"What exactly are you gonna do with that money?" Matt asks.
"Since this jackass ruined my plan," Brad explains, pointing at Tommy who doesn't even look up at being called names, "I'm going to hire someone to kiss Kris."
"Oh, man," Plaid Dude #2 moans. "That doesn't sound good. That doesn't sound good at all."
Brad doesn't pay him any mind.
"And who do you think is gonna take the job?" Matt presses. "Hate to break it to you, but we don't exactly have a Gigolos'R'Us in this town."
Amateurs, Brad thinks, willing himself to be patient. They have so little faith in him. "David Lorenzo," he says, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm going to pay David Lorenzo to kiss Kris."
Everyone starts talking at once.
-
"Okay, time out!" Tommy yells finally, standing on the bed.
The commotion stops immediately.
"Thank you," he says and sits back down. "Now somebody explain to me who that David guy is."
"He's-"
"David's-"
"Adam hates-"
"Zip it!" Tommy says, and then points to Brad, probably because he's the only one not red in the face right now.
"David Lorenzo is some jerk I dated, like, two years ago. It was before Kris moved here, and he's now in college, so Kris wouldn't know him."
"Okay," Tommy says, "so what's with the-" He gestures at the red faces around him. Even Cale and Andrew look murderous.
"Adam hates him," Matt jumps in, "and with good reason. The dude's bad news."
Cale is nodding fervently. Brad yawns.
"We'll all be there," he drawls. "Kris will be fine. David is perfect for this because Adam already hates him. And also because I once saw him eat a live bug for fifty bucks, but that's not the point. The point is, we need someone Adam wouldn't tolerate touching Kris, and David is home for the summer, so it's like fate. If Adam ends up punching David again, well. It's not like he didn't deserve it, and he'd be compensated well for his trouble."
Everybody wins, really. And David's a good kisser. Brad doesn't understand what the problem is.
"Again?" Tommy asks. "Adam punched someone?"
"Ah, yeah," Brad says with a slight wince. That was kind of his fault. "David was getting handsy with me, and he doesn't really understand that no means no, so uh. Adam punched him a little bit."
"Right on the jaw," Cale says, miming a punch. "It was awesome."
They all give Brad uneasy looks.
"It's going to be fiiine," Brad tells them. "The guy's not like an evil rapist or anything. You'll see."
Neil raises his hand hesitantly. "Uuuuh, Brad? I don't think mom's gonna pay for that."
Brad sighs and shakes his head. Amateurs.
-
The plan comes together beautifully.
Brad talks to his cousin Jenna, who talks to her mom, who contacts her friend at Red Apple and gets Kris a gig for next Saturday. Brad is ecstatic, because Red Apple was his first choice. It's a small pub just outside town where they hold open mic nights occasionally and have karaoke and stuff. More importantly, they're queer friendly-if anyone's getting punched, Brad would prefer it to be David, not Kris.
No drinks for anyone underage, he is warned, but he figures they can deal with that.
The second order of business is finding a piano, which they can do without really, but to Brad it just sounds more romantic than a guitar. If Kris is going to serenade-oh, he is so going to serenade-then he should do it right. So Brad asks around and learns that Mrs. Roberts-of the legendary Thursday poker nights-has one, and what do you know, she'd be happy to lend it for a secret project involving Kris' future happiness.
Getting the piano from Mrs. Roberts' house to Red Apple is actually harder than talking the old lady into lending it to them in the first place. Brad figures Matt's dad's truck plus the muscles of the plaid dudes-who have surprisingly nice arms under those plaid shirts-should do the trick, but apparently you can't just carry a piano around without special equipment. Which means Brad has to go talk to Cook, Kris' boss-who is unfortunately immune to Brad's charms-and beg on his hands and knees until he gives in and arranges the transport for him.
"You won't regret this!" Brad tells him.
"I already do," Cook grumbles.
The rest of the details, while they seem minor at first, aren't any less of a strain on Brad.
Cale-whose name Brad accidentally learns along the way-picks the song Kris is going to sing, but Brad insists on having the final say and spends one night listening to Kris Allen's demos and other random recordings. He decides to go with Cale's pick in the end-damn the plaid-wearing smug bastard-but never let it be said that Brad doesn't take his responsibilities seriously.
The jeans prove the easiest to handle-or wait, okay, no, actually David is the easiest, but the jeans are a close second. Brad sends Tommy to the mall with strict instructions-three sizes smaller than what Kris usually wears-and deems what Tommy brings back satisfactory, if a little on the cheap side.
Letting the jeans slip from his fingers down to the floor, Brad throws himself on Tommy's bed dramatically and sighs. "I'm dying. They better be grateful for all my hard work, because I am so tired right now I can't breathe."
Tommy mutters something about world domination under his breath.
Brad squints down at the waistband of his own jeans. Are they hanging lower than they're supposed to? Is he losing weight? "Oh, God," he says. "I think I'm losing weight."
"You don't have anything to lose," is Tommy's contribution to the conversation, which makes Brad's mind go somewhere horrible.
He twists around to take a look at his own buttocks and says, alarmed, "Am I losing my ass? I don't wanna lose my ass!"
Tommy doesn't even twitch. Brad misses hanging out with Adam. Adam always used to twitch when the situation called for it.
Brad kicks him. "Bring me some ice cream!" he demands. "I'm losing my girlish figure here."
Tommy offers him an eye roll but still stands up to get the ice cream.
Brad stays where he is, holding his own ass, and contemplates the brilliance of his plan, the perfect roundness of his butt cheeks, and the wonders of strawberry ice cream after a full day's work.
-
Kris was late to work this morning. Again. It didn't get much more than a raised eyebrow from his boss-the man sure is used to it by now-but Kris still feels that he has to work extra hard to make up for it. By the time Brad walks in, half his face covered by a pair of huge sunglasses, Kris has already re-alphabetized the rock and pop sections and has moved on to soundtracks.
"Kristopher," Brad says, voice hoarse and tired, like maybe he's coming down with something, and takes off his sunglasses.
"What the hell happened to you?" Kris wonders out loud. Brad's eyes are bloodshot and he looks queasy. Kris hopes he doesn't throw up in the store. They just mopped the floors.
"Ice cream hangover," Brad says, perfectly serious.
"That's not a real thing," Kris informs him, placing the Top Gun CD behind Titanic.
"Tell that to my friends Ben and Jerry," Brad mutters, fiddling with his sunglasses, trying to stick them in his hair.
"So, what can I do to help?" Kris asks. It's not every day that Brad walks in without urgent music business in mind. Last time he'd shown up this early, he'd realized he had lost his Sheer Heart Attack CD and he had to, he just had to listen to Killer Queen before noon. This time, Kris is guessing the culprit must be the latest Lady Gaga single, but he sincerely doubts it would help any with the hangover or sugar crash or whatever.
Surprising Kris, Brad says, "This is more about how I can help you actually."
Kris raises his eyebrows, silently prompting.
"I got you a gig."
"You got me a gig."
Brad nods, looking self-satisfied. "At Red Apple."
Kris' heart starts hammering. That's... big. That's huge. Kris has never performed at a place like that. He didn't even know they let underage kids play there. "You... what? Seriously?"
"Yup." Brad nods. "You're on Saturday night. You'll be playing piano, and you'll be singing Ain't No Sunshine."
"Wait... wait, wait. I don't get to pick the song?" He studies Brad's face, really takes it in, and decides with a sinking heart that Brad is up to something. "Is this a joke?" he asks. "Brad, I'm really not in the mood-"
"Oh, for God's sake..." Brad gives him an exasperated glare from under his lashes and says, "It's not a prank, I'm not yanking your chain, and I'm not up to anything evil. I just need you to sing... as a favor to me."
"Favor to you?" Brad doesn't ask Kris for favors, because, frankly, Kris doesn't have anything Brad would want. Kris doesn't understand what exactly he's asking for now. "How is this a favor to you?"
"Look, there's this guy..."
"Oh, man..."
"No, just listen, okay?"
Kris does, albeit grudgingly. Romance is the one subject where he knows he and Brad will never see eye to eye. Whatever game Brad is planning, Kris is sure he won't want to play a part in it.
"So there's this guy I like-that I have liked for a long time, really-and we're going on a date on Saturday. Our first date. I want it to be special."
"And that's it?" Kris finds it hard to believe that it could be as simple as that.
"That's it. I just want mood music, and I want to dedicate the song to him. You know. Make the date memorable."
"And you're not getting Adam to sing because...?"
Brad scoffs, exasperated, managing to call Kris dumb with just his eyes. "I can't have my ex-boyfriend singing at my date!"
"Oh. Well. And I get to play at Red Apple? How did you pull that off?"
"I have my ways," Brad says mysteriously. "So you'll do it?"
"Well, yeah," Kris says. He can't possibly say no to an opportunity like this. "Of course I'll do it."
Brad smirks in a self-satisfied, Cheshire cat way, and puts his sunglasses back on. "Toodles, then," he says airily, turning on his heels to leave. "I've got things to do. For my very important date."
Feeling slightly lightheaded, Kris turns his gaze back down to the soundtracks section, which is still mostly a mess. He's suddenly so nervous that he's not sure he remembers the alphabet.
"Oh, and Kris, one more thing."
"Yeah?"
"Let's just not tell Adam about this whole date business, alright? He... may not approve of the guy, so I'd kinda like to keep it under wraps until he can't do anything about it."
"You know he'll want to be there, right?" Kris warns. Adam would never miss a performance of Kris', let alone the biggest one yet.
"I know, I know," Brad says. "I trust him not to make a scene there. I just don't want him to bitch at me until then."
"Oh." Kris hates keeping things from Adam, but this doesn't sound so bad. And it's not exactly his secret to tell. "Okay, I guess."
"Awesome," Brad says, almost out the door. "It'll be our little secret." And he leaves.
-
"Kris is keeping something from you."
Brad is sprawled on Adam's bed, in a pose Adam would have once found inviting. It's mostly irritating now, since he's lying on the shirt Adam meant to wear tonight. He yanks it out from under Brad's ass and tries to smooth out the creases. "I know."
"You do?" Brad asks, lazily amused. "Well, that makes my job easier."
Adam doesn't bother asking what job or what's that got to do with you. Instead, he puts on the shirt and turns around in front of the mirror to check the fit. It's not bad. In the dim lights of the pub, they won't even be able to tell that it has a butt-shaped crease in the back.
"I probably shouldn't tell you this..." Brad starts, making it clear that he desperately wants to and definitely will, "...but I think he's seeing someone."
Adam stops what he's doing and turns around, stumped. "No," he says, shaking his head. "He wouldn't be able to keep something like that from me."
Brad shrugs innocently. "I don't know. But this whole Red Apple thing-I mean, you know how hard it is to get a gig there, and something last minute like this? And he didn't really invite any of us, did you notice? Yeah, he didn't say not to come, but wouldn't he normally be more excited and tell us all to be there? It's just fishy, that's all."
Adam's hands are on his hips; he feels inexplicably irritated. "What's that got to do with him seeing someone?"
Brad's eyes flit from the mirror to the door to Adam in quick succession, and he licks his lips nervously. "Look, I'm not sure, right? But I heard him on the phone with someone, talking about tonight, and he sounded... cozy with whoever it was. Maybe it's someone who works there, I don't know. But I get the feeling that this is supposed to be a date, and we're kind of crashing it."
Adam shakes his head. "Don't be ridiculous."
"It was a guy," Brad says. "On the phone-he was talking to a guy. So maybe that's why he didn't mention it to you."
"What? No!" Adam lowers his voice, but it takes effort. "That's-not possible."
Brad crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the headboard triumphantly. "Yup. Can't say I blame him for not telling you."
"Kris is straight," Adam insists. This whole thing is preposterous. One minute they're getting ready to go out and have a fun night, the next, Brad is spouting nonsense. Why does Brad even care about Kris' love life all of a sudden?
"He's really not," Brad says. "I don't know why you keep saying that."
Adam takes a deep, calming breath. This is nonsense. Kris is straight. And he wouldn't lie to Adam. Brad is just-God knows what Brad is thinking. He definitely doesn't know what the hell he's talking about.
"We're gonna be late," Adam says and grabs his jacket. He doesn't want to stay and keep listening to this. Once they're there, they'll see that Kris isn't on a date with some guy-even the thought is ludicrous-and everything will be fine. "Let's just go."
He doesn't wait for Brad, and in his haste, he forgets his keys.
-
Kris is not having the best of days.
Being nervous as hell about the performance isn't enough, he also has to battle with the anxiety and the guilt of having kept things from Adam. He's terrible at keeping secrets, and his strategy of steering clear of Adam to keep from blurting it out has backfired spectacularly, earning him hurt and confused looks from Adam, which in turn has made Kris even more uneasy.
It's not his secret to tell, that much is true, but he has a rule, the golden rule; and the golden rule says whatever you do, do not get in between Adam and Brad. Adam and Brad's relationship is, was, and seems destined to always be complicated and confusing and at times quite volatile. Kris is glad that he's nothing like Brad, because he never meant to replace him in Adam's eyes, so he made sure to keep Kris-and-Adam separate from Adam-and-Brad.
But now-now he went and ruined it all. Singing for Brad and the-boyfriend-Adam-wouldn't-approve-of? That's betrayal, right there. Kris doesn't know what he was thinking when he said yes.
Brad is still not around when Kris takes his place at the piano; neither is Adam, but that's almost a relief right now. Kris sits on the bench gingerly and curses the inhumanly tight jeans he's wearing once again. There's been an accident involving Tommy and a glass of non-alcoholic wine, which resulted in Kris having to change into a spare pair of jeans Tommy had brought with him. Kris doesn't understand how that wine glass fell into his lap out of nowhere, or why Tommy was carrying around spare clothes, but the day feels so surreal that he can't be sure if it's him or the rest of reality that's not making sense.
He places his fingers on the keys, adjusts his microphone, and is hit with a strong sense of déjà vu. He knows this piano. He has played this piano. This is-
"lsn't this Mrs. Roberts' piano?"
Brad appears out of nowhere, slightly out of breath, his face shining with a fine sheen of perspiration. "I wouldn't know," he says. "I don't even know who that is."
"But-"
"Kris, focus," Brad admonishes him. "You're on in thirty seconds. We need to get this right."
Kris nods mechanically and tells himself to breathe. Just breathe. It'll be fine.
"I need you to do exactly as I say. This is very important."
Kris nods. It sounds good to him. He doesn't trust himself to think right now and he's always been great at following directions.
"I need you to dedicate the song to David." He stares at Kris until he nods, and then repeats, "David. Don't get it wrong. And don't say my name. I don't want everyone in my business. Just say it's for David, okay?"
"Okay." Kris can do that. If he can find his voice, he can do that, and then he can sing. If he can't find his voice.... Well. There won't be a song to dedicate, will there?
"And I need you to sing really, really well. Just-close your eyes and picture this brilliant, awesome guy-"
"Guy? Why am I-?"
"There's no sunshine when he's gone, Kris," Brad says firmly. "Don't tell me you can't do it. I see how you look at Adam."
Kris feels his eyes go huge and round until they start hurting, and he manages to whisper, "What?"
"I'm not going to tell anyone," Brad reassures him. "It's okay. Just between us. But just-imagine that, and feel the song, and sing it like you've never sung before, okay?"
Kris licks his lips nervously, hears his name being announced, and says, "Okay."
Brad turns him around for one last look-running his fingers through Kris' hair, mussing it up, and undoing two more buttons of his shirt-and then disappears, leaving Kris alone in the spotlight.
Kris swallows against the knot in his throat, takes a deep breath, and says, "This is for David," into the microphone. And then he starts to sing.
-
This is like a nightmare turned wet dream turned nightmare once again. Adam doesn't understand how a perfectly nice evening can take a drastically, ridiculously bad turn like this.
"Who the hell's David?" he hears himself say, and then notes with detachment how quiet the table is. They all know, he thinks. They all know about Kris' secret boyfriend. He's the only one that didn't know.
They all know that Kris likes guys, and they all know that he doesn't like Adam. Not like that. And that's-that's fine, isn't it? They're best friends, not... not something else. But-wouldn't Kris tell his best friend about his boyfriend?
Adam's head hurts.
And then he hears Kris' voice singing what feels like the most perfect song in the history of the world, and Adam's heart shatters. He remembers suddenly how he'd felt when Kris sang Red Guitar to Katy. Even after they broke up, Kris kept singing that song, he kept loving that song, and Adam hated every note, every word. Katy was never good enough for Kris. She wasn't deserving of the song or the boy. And now-Adam knows in his heart that this David guy... he can't be good enough either. No one's good enough. Not even....
Adam's eyes never leave Kris' face. Kris' cheeks are flushed-he must be nervous-but he looks lost in his own world. Kris is always so honest in his performances. His face is so expressive; you can't help but feel everything he's feeling. He and Adam may both be performers and damn good ones at that, but they're also vastly different in their styles. While Adam has many interchangeable personas on stage, he knows that Kris only has the one. Kris is always himself. He doesn't lie. He doesn't act. If Kris is singing a love song and dedicating it to some guy, then Adam knows-he knows-that he must mean it.
Why that would bring tears to his eyes, Adam would rather not think about.
There's a dreamlike quality to everything around Adam, starting with Kris on that stage, the piano, his voice, and then spreading over to the rest of the occupants of the room, the stillness of their table, the spellbound way everyone's listening to the song. The whole thing seems to last forever but also somehow passes in the blink of an eye, and before Adam knows which way is up, there's applause, and Kris is getting up, and-what's up with his jeans? Did Kris go shopping? Oh, my God, he did! And then there's some guy standing next to Kris, whispering something to him, and then they're kissing, how could they be kissing, what the hell-and then Adam realizes.
"That's David Lorenzo," he says in a daze. He gives himself a shake-get a hold of yourself!-and repeats in a more strong voice, "That's David fucking Lorenzo."
He doesn't think-what's there to think!-but acts, pushing his chair back immediately to run over to the stage, climb up, and kill that son of a bitch, but Brad holds him back.
"What the fuck?" Adam splutters. He has a lot more to say, but he doesn't feel up to the challenge of turning words into sentences at this precise moment. He would be much more comfortable throwing a punch or two, which is universally understood anyway.
"What the fuck do you think you're gonna do?" Brad asks.
Adam clenches his fists by his sides. "What do you think?"
"Okay, Prince Charming," Brad drawls, tightening his hold on Adam's arms. "Does Kris look like he needs saving?"
Adam doesn't want to see, but his head swivels anyway. No, Kris doesn't look like he needs saving. He looks-he looks like he's enjoying himself. He has a hand fisted in David fucking Lorenzo's shirt and he seems to be-Adam feels bile rise in his throat-he seems to be kissing him back.
"He doesn't know," Adam says, more to convince himself than Brad. "Did you even tell him what kind of guy he's dating?"
Brad gives him a guilty, shifty look, and says, "I will. I'll tell him." At Adam's disbelieving expression, he nods more firmly. "I promise. I will."
Adam shrugs him off. "I'm gonna-I'm gonna get some air."
He doesn't run out, but it's a close thing.
-
"I'm pretty sure we just fucked up in a massive way," Tommy says.
Matt nods, eyes still on the kissing couple on stage. "At least now we know he really is bi?"
Brad sits back down and wishes they'd sneaked in some alcohol.
"It'll come together in the end. Give it time."
-
"That was nice. Thank you," the guy says after he stops trying to inhale Kris' lungs, and then he just walks away.
Kris' legs are shaking; he doesn't know how he makes it off the stage.
He must have performed relatively well-he honestly has no recollection of it-because people keep giving him thumbs up and saying way to go as he walks towards his friends, but come to think of it, the congratulatory backslaps could also be about the kiss, which certainly felt impressive from where Kris was standing.
His legs jelly-like and his body feverish all over, Kris stops next to the table where his friends are seated, ignores the offered chair, and says, "Okay. My legs are numb from these jeans, that piano really is Mrs. Roberts', and Brad's boyfriend kissed me in front of a roomful of people. Somebody please explain to me what just happened."
Matt studies his hands, Tommy's suddenly fascinated with his drink, and Brad looks sheepish.
Then Kris notices something...
"Where did Adam go?"
-
Adam hates everything right now.
He hates Brad. He hates David fucking Lorenzo. He even hates Kris a bit. He hates his parents for not being home. And he hates this tree that he's sitting in. He hates them all.
He gives up on trying to reach Neil's bedroom window-last thing he needs is a broken leg right now-and since he's feeling hateful toward the ground just as much as the rest of his surroundings, he decides to stay where he is. What's the point of climbing down? He'll just end up sitting on the stoop anyway. He doesn't have his keys. He hates Brad for that too. The fucker made him forget his keys.
Adam wishes he were inside. He wants a bath. A long, hot bath, preferably with candles. He needs to take a step back and think-about Kris mostly, though he doesn't know what good that'll do now.
He jots this down in the hate column as well. He hates that he didn't realize he wanted Kris like that before things got complicated. How stupid is he, really? How could he not know? Everyone knew, didn't they? They all knew. Did Kris know? That's probably why he didn't tell Adam about-about David fucking Lorenzo. Kris probably didn't want to talk about it. He probably figured it would be easier to just show Adam. Less embarrassing. Less messy.
Not for Adam it wasn't.
Adam is a messy messed up mess right now.
He feels like he got hit by a car. His muscles are aching, all his bones hurt, and there's something rock hard and burning in his gut, coiled around his esophagus, making him want to sob until he chokes. He's never been good at handling rejection, he always has to-he has to-get what he wants, and Kris... he thinks maybe he needs Kris. This certainly feels worse than simple wanting.
Enough, he tells himself. No more emo faces; he left that behind after Brad. Sulking never helped anyone. He needs to focus, salvage what he can out of this. Like his friendship with Brad, he can still be Kris' best friend. And Kris won't keep seeing David, not after Brad tells him what a douchebag that jerk is, so it'll be just like old days. As if nothing happened. Adam can forget about tonight, about the way Kris sang, and that kiss... he can... he will... probably.
"Adam?"
Adam looks down and there's Kris, craning his neck up to see through the leaves. Adam's heart flies up to lodge in his throat. Kris is not with David. But of course he wouldn't be. Brad wouldn't let him. No matter how much Kris wanted to kiss the guy. Brad is a tenacious bastard, and Adam knew he could trust him with this.
Not that he expected Kris to show up here.
"What the hell are you doing up there?"
"Um." Adam clears his throat. "I forgot my keys."
"And what? You thought you left them in the tree?"
Adam rolls his eyes. "No," he says. "I was trying to reach the window."
"So?" Kris asks, tapping one foot. "Are you coming down anytime soon?"
Adam does not want to have the painfully awkward talk that's bound to be coming, so actually no, he's probably not going down anytime soon. "I'm okay here."
"You're okay-" Kris curses and kicks the tree. Adam imagines that he can feel the vibrations from all the way up. "Stop being childish, will you? Come down so we can talk!"
Adam sees red for the second time that night. It's probably not fair to be mad at Kris for not wanting Adam-it's not exactly something one can help-but Adam is angry dammit, he really is. He may not be graceful like Brad, or shiny and blonde like Katy, or-or skinny like Tommy, but Adam is a better catch than David fucking Lorenzo any day of the week. He's talented! And he's kind! Mostly, anyway! And he's-dammit, he doesn't know what else he is, but he's got to be better than an asshole who's one step away from being a date rapist!
"I'm not coming down," Adam says, his voice sounding choked to his own ears. "I don't want to talk, and I'm... tired."
Kris doesn't reply. Adam refuses to look down. He rests his head on a branch and shuts his eyes.
And then the tree starts shaking.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"I'm-" Kris pants, curses, and continues, "coming up so we can talk."
"You're crazy," Adam informs him.
"Yeah," Kris pauses for breath, grabs another branch, and pulls himself up. "For putting up with your shit? Definitely."
Adam ducks his head and smiles. There's no one else like Kris Allen. He may be too young to say something like that with confidence, but-he's going to anyway, because Kris is special and unique, and one day everyone will see that. Until then, Adam suspects that he'll greedily hoard every little Kris Allen moment he can. Even if that means having massively uncomfortable talks in trees with him.
Kris sits next to him, sweat dripping down his neck, and runs his free hand over his face. "Hi," he says when he's done, sounding exasperated in a friendly way-a familiar way.
"Hey," Adam says.
"You left."
Adam nods. "I did."
Kris waits a beat and then, "And why?"
Adam shrugs.
Kris sighs, wiggles a little to get comfortable. "Did you at least like the song?"
Adam stiffens at the mention of that wretched song-the song Kris dedicated to-"It was good," he says, succinct.
"Right," Kris says under his breath and falls silent.
Adam hates being awkward with Kris. It reminds him of the months when he and Brad were trying to find their footing after the breakup. If it had been painful then, it's like frickin' torture now.
They sit silently, looking up and down and around-anywhere but at each other, until Adam's gaze is caught by Kris' jeans again. Which cannot really be Kris', because Adam knows every pair Kris owns, and if Kris bought them recently, he must have gone shopping with someone else, because he would never buy something like that himself, and if he went with David-
"What's with the jeans?"
Kris looks down, runs a fingernail along the outer seam. "They're Tommy's."
Adam snorts humorlessly. "What, now you're dating him too?"
He knows it was a mistake as soon as the words are out, but it's too late to take them back. Kris stiffens beside him and his voice goes cold. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I don't know, you tell me. You're the one wearing his jeans."
"Wow," Kris says. "This is-wow." He straddles the branch they're sitting on and leans closer for maximum effect. "I am not dating Tommy. Tommy's straight."
Adam shrugs. "So were you."
Kris lets out an aborted, indignant sound, and pokes Adam in the arm. "I was not straight. I was never straight. You just wanted me to be, because-I don't even know why. So you wouldn't have to go to the trouble of letting me down easy? I don't know. But that was all you, Adam, and you know it."
"Me letting you down-" Adam turns to face Kris, shocked and confused. Is Kris saying what he thinks he's saying? "You didn't-I wouldn't-" He stops, draws in a harsh breath, and tries to speak in a strong voice, hopefully using full sentences. "You dated girls. You crushed on girls. And then-you were kissing David fucking Lorenzo. You dedicated a song to David fucking Lorenzo." Every time he says the name, he gets a little more angry. "You were dating David fucking Lorenzo and you didn't even tell me."
"I was dating... who?"
"The guy you were kissing!"
"Huh," Kris says. His brows knit together and he looks very serious. Adam waits for him to say something-and he waits, and he waits, but Kris stays silent.
His bottom lip is bitten red, Adam notices, and it reminds Adam of all those times he tugged that lip free of Kris' teeth, berating him and trying to get him to put on some lip balm. How is it possible that he missed something so huge between them?
"If you're not dating him, then why-"
"Brad," Kris says.
"Oh."
Adam could ask how Brad managed all this, but he suspects the answer will be long and convoluted and will make him want to hang Brad upside down from a flag pole, so he decides that it's probably better not to ask right now.
"We should go down," Adam says. "My parents will be home soon, and it's getting-"
"Seriously," Kris intones, blinking at him in what appears to be astonishment.
"What?"
"This is where you wanna leave this conversation? We go down, and I go home, and-what, I'll come by on Monday morning to wake you up for work?"
Adam swallows nervously. "I don't...."
"Adam, you just threw a complete hissy fit because some random guy kissed me!"
"And you kissed him back!" Adam yells. Those words have been echoing in his mind since he saw Kris' hand fisted in that scumbag's shirt, and he feels immeasurably better now that they're out.
"Well, he was a damn fine kisser." Chin tilted up, Kris gives him a challenging look. He's saying what're you gonna do about it, and Adam knows what he wants to do about it, but he can't-he can't. He's on the edge, about to fall, and he can't. He's terrified. (And no, it has nothing to do with the tree.)
"For the love of God," he hears Kris mutter under his breath, exasperated and a little annoyed, and then-
Kris kisses him.
-
Adam hears the car-in the background, far far away-but it's not enough to make him let go of Kris. He hears someone walk up to the house, open the door, and go inside. A moment later, the lights come up, first downstairs, and then upstairs, and muffled voices reach his ears.
Kris pulls back, just a little, far as Adam's arms allow him. "Your parents are home."
"Okay," Adam says, dazed. He drags Kris closer for another kiss.
Kris smiles against his lips. "We should go down."
"Nuh-uh," Adam says. They should stay right where they are. On this branch. Alone.
Kris doesn't seem averse to the idea. He's making the kind of noises he normally saves for frozen yogurt, and the hand he'd braced on Adam's thigh keeps slipping further and further, bringing them even closer together. A couple more minutes, Adam's brain informs him, and they're both going to tumble down.
"I found them!" Adam hears Neil's voice, coming from-there, from the window of his room. "They're making out in the tree!"
Kris squeaks and tries to scoot back. Adam catches him by the shirt.
"I can't believe I didn't think of this one," Neil mutters, as Adam and Kris stare at each other with wide, horrified eyes. "Stranded in a tree. So obvious."
He shuts the window with a bang.
"Okay," Kris says. "Now we really need to go."
-
"Are they...?"
Brad squints at the amazing duo sitting outside the diner in Adam's beat-up Toyota, and-he can't tell. Adam is trying to put lip balm on Kris, one wax-covered fingertip raised threateningly, and Kris is fighting him off tooth and nail. This is nothing new. They're also smiling at each other like a couple of idiots, but that's not exactly new either.
After a while, Brad gives up. He shrugs. "I don't know. I need more data."
"At least they're talking to each other," Tommy says. "I thought for sure we'd screwed that up."
"Pfft." Brad rolls his eyes. "They're too stubborn to have a simple falling out like that."
"That's what you say now," Matt says, and then stops, mouth hanging open. "Holy-"
Everyone at the table turns at once to follow his gaze outside.
"Well," Tommy says, deadpan, "I guess that's one way to put on lip balm."
"Dude," Cale says from the next booth. "Is that for real?"
Brad leans back in his seat and lets a huge grin spread across his face. Damn, he's good.
He steals one of Tommy's French fries and chews thoughtfully. "So," he asks, "who's next?"