Just a Battle...
Title: Just a Battle
Author: lilymajolis
Pairing: Adam/Kris
Rating: R for language
Word Count: 770. Just a short little thing that popped into my head...
Disclaimer: These people do not belong to me and I get no profit from inventing stuff about them. But I can't stop...
Notes: Inspired by the weird enigmatic tweets from Michael Sarver yesterday (http://www.flickr.com/photos/36854171@N00/3770617668/). So here's what I think *really* happened-- LOL!
Adam stares at Michael in disbelief. He can’t even believe that the guy wants to go there with him, considering that Adam is down to his last shred of a nerve and hasn’t even bothered to hide it the last couple of days. Granted, the insane schedule, the crowded stinking bus, the steambath weather-it’s been wearing on all of them. But then he’s expected to work on the album every spare minute, and gets shit when he tries to get out of a meet and greet, and oh yeah, he might want to watch out for a fucking stalker…
Not to mention the bizarre little dance that Kris has been doing with him since the tour started-all the accidental touches and the crazy-ass looks that are way on the wrong side of inappropriate for a straight guy.
So all Adam wants is a few minutes of peace alone on the bus while everyone else goes for some fried whatever, and then Michael walks in and starts with this shit.
The look on Adam’s face must not be pretty, because even though Michael is about as thick as they come, he takes a step back, looking a little nervous. Adam doesn’t even bother to try to calm down. Bring it on, he figures. He’s been holding it in for days, and he’s got a lot of patience, but he’s no fucking saint.
“What exactly are you trying to say, Sarver?”
Michael licks his lips nervously. “Look, I’m just saying that you might want to tone it down a notch. I mean, bras are one thing, but now they’re throwing whips on stage, and you and Kris are picking it up like it’s no big deal-it’s disgusting! What’s next, Adam?”
“I don’t know, Sarver. What do you think? Cock rings? Do you think I fucking ask people to throw shit? Maybe I should twitter every five minutes like you do… send out my wish list…”
“There’s kids in the audience, you know,” Michael growls, and now it’s obvious how pissed off he is. “And this isn’t the damn Adam Lambert show! There’s ten of us, and I’m sick and tired of you hogging all the attention! Give us a fucking chance…”
“You have your chance every fucking night, Sarver. If you’re falling short, don’t blame me!”
Michael’s fists are clenched and his breath is coming fast. Adam stands, trying to remember the self-defense moves Neil taught him a couple years ago, but nothing comes to mind except the part about how to gouge out an eyeball with your thumb. Which may be a bit much. Or not.
There’s a noise from the front of the bus, and then the curtain parts and Kris enters, stops short when he sees Michael and Adam. He glances back and forth at their faces.
“What’s going on?” he asks Michael.
“Why don’t you ask your little friend?”
“Cuz I’m asking you, Sarver.”
“Okay, fine. Doesn’t it bother you that Adam gets all the attention when you’re the winner? We may as well be his backup singers!”
“No, it doesn’t bother me, actually.” Kris’ voice is even, but Adam recognizes the hard edge in it, and thinks that Sarver doesn’t know what he’s getting into.
“And what about the fact that he prances around the stage like he’s at a gay strip club? How about that?”
“No, that doesn’t bother me either…” and he takes a couple steps closer to Michael. “But I’ll tell you what does bother me. It’s you pretending to be Adam’s good buddy and defender against all haters when we all know how you really feel. You’re a fucking hypocrite, Sarver, and that’s what bothers me. Got it?”
Adam sees Michael’s hands unclench, and sees him looking at Kris in confusion. No one messes with Kris-he’s too nice, too smart, too damn grounded, and Michael is really outmatched now.
Kris takes another step in his direction, puts his hand on Michael’s shoulder. “Now why don’t you apologize for being an asshole, and go do some self-evaluating…”
And unbelievably, he does, and it actually sounds sort of sincere to Adam, and then he’s hurrying away and the bus door opens and slams shut.
Adam leans against the wall, arms crossed, smirks at Kris who is giving him another of those looks.
“You want a piece of me too, Kristopher?”
Kris walks up to him, so close that their feet touch. His hands grasp Adam’s wrists and he’s pinning them to the wall, pressing his body against him, trembling. His breath is hot and fast on Adam’s mouth.
“Yeah, I kinda do…”
Author: lilymajolis
Pairing: Adam/Kris
Rating: R for language
Word Count: 770. Just a short little thing that popped into my head...
Disclaimer: These people do not belong to me and I get no profit from inventing stuff about them. But I can't stop...
Notes: Inspired by the weird enigmatic tweets from Michael Sarver yesterday (http://www.flickr.com/photos/36854171@N00/3770617668/). So here's what I think *really* happened-- LOL!
Adam stares at Michael in disbelief. He can’t even believe that the guy wants to go there with him, considering that Adam is down to his last shred of a nerve and hasn’t even bothered to hide it the last couple of days. Granted, the insane schedule, the crowded stinking bus, the steambath weather-it’s been wearing on all of them. But then he’s expected to work on the album every spare minute, and gets shit when he tries to get out of a meet and greet, and oh yeah, he might want to watch out for a fucking stalker…
Not to mention the bizarre little dance that Kris has been doing with him since the tour started-all the accidental touches and the crazy-ass looks that are way on the wrong side of inappropriate for a straight guy.
So all Adam wants is a few minutes of peace alone on the bus while everyone else goes for some fried whatever, and then Michael walks in and starts with this shit.
The look on Adam’s face must not be pretty, because even though Michael is about as thick as they come, he takes a step back, looking a little nervous. Adam doesn’t even bother to try to calm down. Bring it on, he figures. He’s been holding it in for days, and he’s got a lot of patience, but he’s no fucking saint.
“What exactly are you trying to say, Sarver?”
Michael licks his lips nervously. “Look, I’m just saying that you might want to tone it down a notch. I mean, bras are one thing, but now they’re throwing whips on stage, and you and Kris are picking it up like it’s no big deal-it’s disgusting! What’s next, Adam?”
“I don’t know, Sarver. What do you think? Cock rings? Do you think I fucking ask people to throw shit? Maybe I should twitter every five minutes like you do… send out my wish list…”
“There’s kids in the audience, you know,” Michael growls, and now it’s obvious how pissed off he is. “And this isn’t the damn Adam Lambert show! There’s ten of us, and I’m sick and tired of you hogging all the attention! Give us a fucking chance…”
“You have your chance every fucking night, Sarver. If you’re falling short, don’t blame me!”
Michael’s fists are clenched and his breath is coming fast. Adam stands, trying to remember the self-defense moves Neil taught him a couple years ago, but nothing comes to mind except the part about how to gouge out an eyeball with your thumb. Which may be a bit much. Or not.
There’s a noise from the front of the bus, and then the curtain parts and Kris enters, stops short when he sees Michael and Adam. He glances back and forth at their faces.
“What’s going on?” he asks Michael.
“Why don’t you ask your little friend?”
“Cuz I’m asking you, Sarver.”
“Okay, fine. Doesn’t it bother you that Adam gets all the attention when you’re the winner? We may as well be his backup singers!”
“No, it doesn’t bother me, actually.” Kris’ voice is even, but Adam recognizes the hard edge in it, and thinks that Sarver doesn’t know what he’s getting into.
“And what about the fact that he prances around the stage like he’s at a gay strip club? How about that?”
“No, that doesn’t bother me either…” and he takes a couple steps closer to Michael. “But I’ll tell you what does bother me. It’s you pretending to be Adam’s good buddy and defender against all haters when we all know how you really feel. You’re a fucking hypocrite, Sarver, and that’s what bothers me. Got it?”
Adam sees Michael’s hands unclench, and sees him looking at Kris in confusion. No one messes with Kris-he’s too nice, too smart, too damn grounded, and Michael is really outmatched now.
Kris takes another step in his direction, puts his hand on Michael’s shoulder. “Now why don’t you apologize for being an asshole, and go do some self-evaluating…”
And unbelievably, he does, and it actually sounds sort of sincere to Adam, and then he’s hurrying away and the bus door opens and slams shut.
Adam leans against the wall, arms crossed, smirks at Kris who is giving him another of those looks.
“You want a piece of me too, Kristopher?”
Kris walks up to him, so close that their feet touch. His hands grasp Adam’s wrists and he’s pinning them to the wall, pressing his body against him, trembling. His breath is hot and fast on Adam’s mouth.
“Yeah, I kinda do…”