Fic: Bash
Fic: Bash
Author: lordnelson100
Pairing: AI S8 Kris/Adam
Summary: Adam felt surprisingly violent about the whole thing.
Rating: R for language and stuff
Tags: fic: rated R
Blah blah blah faggot, how exhausting. Honey, I've been hearing this shit since third grade or thereabouts, Adam thinks. And this guy can't even get up an original line of venomous sexual panic, no, it's just the Dollar Store version, Grade D- on the random street asshole aggravation scale. But now with the holdup, when we have places to be.
Because Kris had to go sermonize the guy, or whatever. Fuck it, Allen, there is a LINE, even for you, my tiny kindly muffin.
On the endless sweaty summer tour to Bumfuck America, and Adam Lambert, reigning Idol sodomite, has gotten his wholesome like-a-room-full-of-roses-and-baking-bread roommate (OK, bad metaphor but the general drift, smells wonderful, do not lick) out of the hotel for one little late night outing, for just this once, and now this incredible douchebag is jamming things up, and Kris has to go and try to humanize the random asshole and make him see the error of his tiny-dick, smaller-brain, worthless ways. AS IF.
And Adam later remembers that he even looked at his watch (a lovely, slim, silver 1960s vintage Wittnauer found by his friend Alex in a yard sale and reveled over in more innocent times). Waiting for this to be over. Waiting for Kris Allen to stop wasting goodness on people who have no idea what it is. Which is like waiting for Kris to stop being Kris, and when he thinks about it that way, he's ashamed.
But when he looks back up from his wrist, the thing he sees is out of nowhere the guy hitting Kris in his perfect sweet face. And Adam, unbelieving, watches as his friend is sent flying, sort of executing a corkscrew as he goes. And then an ugly sound as his face collides with the side of a car. And he slides to the ground, and lies there in a small, curled heap.
Later, when Adam tries to remember, it seems like he was standing there and standing there forever, watching this happen, but it could not have been more then a second.
Because another second later, he was stepping over Kris. One giant step, it felt like, though it couldn't have been, like the children's game, an enormous stride. And then he was hitting the evil bastard in his fat, pink face.
And it was more of a slap, then anything, but Adam has broad shoulders and long arms and big hands (tipped in OPI "Overexposed" purple tonight, a private irony). So the thing, the blow, all connects a lot harder then it has any right to and the douchebag actually staggers back. Both D-bag and Adam pause, startled, for another second, taking that in, and then in the interim, Adam casually balls up his fist and punches the guy in the eye.
The dude screams and swears. Adam is simultaneously aware of a lot of things at once: a circle of people shouting and staring, startled red-neck friends, indignant bystanders weilding cell phones, sirens in the distance which he earnestly prays are headed right here. He has time to think that there's going to be an amazing amount of High Quality Celebrity Bullshit about all this coming down. His agent's going to shit himself. He's also still feeling the white hot rage, but a part of his mind is crying "Kris, Kris" in a small voice and he's distracted, which allows the Fucking Douchebag a chance to swing with something in his hand and connect.
There's an explosion of white light by one of Adam's eyes and he's confused and startled that there's actually no pain but only a roaring sound all around. And he watches in slow motion as the other guy's hand falls away with a broken bottle in it. And for some inexplicable reason, without any time to think, he charges the other guy, just runs him the fuck over (he's got at least four inches on the guy) and somehow this works. This gross heap of human aggravation is so started by being rushed by a big, angry faggot in anime hair and a nice shade of lip tint that he just falls on his worthless ass.
Adam draws back his foot (fortunately clad in his best black New Rock Skull boots with the metal toe) and delivers a swift kick to dude's big, soft gut. It feels good. Then, looking him straight in his startled, piggy eyes, he follows with another, straight to the nuts. It's over, then. He's never been in a fight before, to speak of, but somehow he knows the look of someone who's just done. He's vaguely aware that the guy is moaning and puking and his friends are dragging him away.
And then Adam has turned around and oh, the best sight in the world, because Kris is sitting up on the pavement and looking around with his big dark eyes, dazed but present. Adam is staggering over and collapsing on his knees by his side. Kris' hair is damp and stuck to his clear, perfect brow and there's damage all over one side of his face, and he looks at Adam with such serious concern, his crooked little mouth awry. Adam has never wanted to kiss a face so very much.
He doesn't though, of course he doesn't. Except there's this dream-like moment, because Kris for some reason is slowly *pulling off* his shirt, sitting there on the dirty night-time sidewalk with his clean little white torso barred with shadows under the bare streetlight and what is he doing?
He's holding the balled-up shirt to the side of Adam's face and Adam is vaguely aware that there is blood. But it doesn't matter. Somehow the notion of Kris tending to him, touching him and looking at him with that gentle, calm concern--like he's not at all surprised to be here with Adam in this fucking situation, by which Adam means the whole year and Idol and the competition and love and twenty things they never say--is just too fucking much. He has a feeling he's crying. Tears, mascara, blood. What a mess.
There are sirens coming and multiple voices saying thing about are you okay, but still it's like there's a magic circle around just the two of them.
And suddenly all his filters go to hell, and he puts up one hand to Kris' face. It's so warm, the man's skin. It's like he can feel the goodness underneath, pulsing under his fingers. Touchable. And Adam says, "you're so beautiful." And Kris is giving him a crooked smile and says something about "maybe a little less right now." And Adam says "It hurts. Sometimes it hurts so much." And Kris says "shhh, shh, the ambulance is coming, you're alright, we're okay." And Adam wants to say, that's not what he meant. But he sees that he is understood..
Author: lordnelson100
Pairing: AI S8 Kris/Adam
Summary: Adam felt surprisingly violent about the whole thing.
Rating: R for language and stuff
Tags: fic: rated R
Blah blah blah faggot, how exhausting. Honey, I've been hearing this shit since third grade or thereabouts, Adam thinks. And this guy can't even get up an original line of venomous sexual panic, no, it's just the Dollar Store version, Grade D- on the random street asshole aggravation scale. But now with the holdup, when we have places to be.
Because Kris had to go sermonize the guy, or whatever. Fuck it, Allen, there is a LINE, even for you, my tiny kindly muffin.
On the endless sweaty summer tour to Bumfuck America, and Adam Lambert, reigning Idol sodomite, has gotten his wholesome like-a-room-full-of-roses-and-baking-bread roommate (OK, bad metaphor but the general drift, smells wonderful, do not lick) out of the hotel for one little late night outing, for just this once, and now this incredible douchebag is jamming things up, and Kris has to go and try to humanize the random asshole and make him see the error of his tiny-dick, smaller-brain, worthless ways. AS IF.
And Adam later remembers that he even looked at his watch (a lovely, slim, silver 1960s vintage Wittnauer found by his friend Alex in a yard sale and reveled over in more innocent times). Waiting for this to be over. Waiting for Kris Allen to stop wasting goodness on people who have no idea what it is. Which is like waiting for Kris to stop being Kris, and when he thinks about it that way, he's ashamed.
But when he looks back up from his wrist, the thing he sees is out of nowhere the guy hitting Kris in his perfect sweet face. And Adam, unbelieving, watches as his friend is sent flying, sort of executing a corkscrew as he goes. And then an ugly sound as his face collides with the side of a car. And he slides to the ground, and lies there in a small, curled heap.
Later, when Adam tries to remember, it seems like he was standing there and standing there forever, watching this happen, but it could not have been more then a second.
Because another second later, he was stepping over Kris. One giant step, it felt like, though it couldn't have been, like the children's game, an enormous stride. And then he was hitting the evil bastard in his fat, pink face.
And it was more of a slap, then anything, but Adam has broad shoulders and long arms and big hands (tipped in OPI "Overexposed" purple tonight, a private irony). So the thing, the blow, all connects a lot harder then it has any right to and the douchebag actually staggers back. Both D-bag and Adam pause, startled, for another second, taking that in, and then in the interim, Adam casually balls up his fist and punches the guy in the eye.
The dude screams and swears. Adam is simultaneously aware of a lot of things at once: a circle of people shouting and staring, startled red-neck friends, indignant bystanders weilding cell phones, sirens in the distance which he earnestly prays are headed right here. He has time to think that there's going to be an amazing amount of High Quality Celebrity Bullshit about all this coming down. His agent's going to shit himself. He's also still feeling the white hot rage, but a part of his mind is crying "Kris, Kris" in a small voice and he's distracted, which allows the Fucking Douchebag a chance to swing with something in his hand and connect.
There's an explosion of white light by one of Adam's eyes and he's confused and startled that there's actually no pain but only a roaring sound all around. And he watches in slow motion as the other guy's hand falls away with a broken bottle in it. And for some inexplicable reason, without any time to think, he charges the other guy, just runs him the fuck over (he's got at least four inches on the guy) and somehow this works. This gross heap of human aggravation is so started by being rushed by a big, angry faggot in anime hair and a nice shade of lip tint that he just falls on his worthless ass.
Adam draws back his foot (fortunately clad in his best black New Rock Skull boots with the metal toe) and delivers a swift kick to dude's big, soft gut. It feels good. Then, looking him straight in his startled, piggy eyes, he follows with another, straight to the nuts. It's over, then. He's never been in a fight before, to speak of, but somehow he knows the look of someone who's just done. He's vaguely aware that the guy is moaning and puking and his friends are dragging him away.
And then Adam has turned around and oh, the best sight in the world, because Kris is sitting up on the pavement and looking around with his big dark eyes, dazed but present. Adam is staggering over and collapsing on his knees by his side. Kris' hair is damp and stuck to his clear, perfect brow and there's damage all over one side of his face, and he looks at Adam with such serious concern, his crooked little mouth awry. Adam has never wanted to kiss a face so very much.
He doesn't though, of course he doesn't. Except there's this dream-like moment, because Kris for some reason is slowly *pulling off* his shirt, sitting there on the dirty night-time sidewalk with his clean little white torso barred with shadows under the bare streetlight and what is he doing?
He's holding the balled-up shirt to the side of Adam's face and Adam is vaguely aware that there is blood. But it doesn't matter. Somehow the notion of Kris tending to him, touching him and looking at him with that gentle, calm concern--like he's not at all surprised to be here with Adam in this fucking situation, by which Adam means the whole year and Idol and the competition and love and twenty things they never say--is just too fucking much. He has a feeling he's crying. Tears, mascara, blood. What a mess.
There are sirens coming and multiple voices saying thing about are you okay, but still it's like there's a magic circle around just the two of them.
And suddenly all his filters go to hell, and he puts up one hand to Kris' face. It's so warm, the man's skin. It's like he can feel the goodness underneath, pulsing under his fingers. Touchable. And Adam says, "you're so beautiful." And Kris is giving him a crooked smile and says something about "maybe a little less right now." And Adam says "It hurts. Sometimes it hurts so much." And Kris says "shhh, shh, the ambulance is coming, you're alright, we're okay." And Adam wants to say, that's not what he meant. But he sees that he is understood..