elevation - kradam - 2/?
Disclaimer: This is crack - very cracky crack, in fact. This is posted with the intention of entertainment, not to slander or in any way suggest that the following actually scene occured. Speaking of which...ontd_ai members, I am aware that "elevation" may share some qualities with the fanfictions you call "badfic." As the author, I request that you refrain from quoting this in any of your posts. Thank you. :)
elevation
part 2
Yes.
Immediately, Kris' clenches his fists.
Yes to being in love - with Adam, no less? How could I ever... he thinks immediately, hs mind jumping to Katy. Am I really in love with Adam?
Kris takes a deep breath and switches to another musical track than "Say," one that isn't as cheery - some slow Jason Mraz song. He isn't sure how ready he is for that answer, and even less sure if he's ready to do anything about it.
As it is, he continues to sneak glances at Adam's (delectable, irresistible - damn, there aren't really adequate words) hips and allows his drawn out looks to answer his question themselves.
Later that night, when he stirs out of an uneasy sleep to piss, Kris stares at the painfully white toilet bowl and tries so very hard not to think of anything at all. He's feeling sluggish, so it works - sort of - but his hazy mind still finds a way to work around it.
That's how Kris finds himself a) peeing and b) wondering how the fuck (when he's tired, he finds himself dropping cuss words at the drop of a hat) he's supposed to reply to a question he already knows the answer to.
Am I in love with Adam Lambert? Kris repeats (yes yes yes yes yes, his mind screams); he wonders again if it even matters. Katy is his best friend - Katy is (should be, at the very least) everything to him - what reason does he have to risk it all for a man who may not return his feelings?
He's surprised to find a thousand - no, a million reasons - counting down inside his head, and wearily pulls up his pajama bottoms.
Kris no longer feels like going back to his bunk and suffocating in the sweat-soaked sheets. The kitchen/living room should be available, though, and he trudges into the next room.
At first, it appears to be empty; at the very least, no lights are on. He squints carefully at and puts on his glasses (the very same glasses Adam has designated as the most adorkable thing he's ever seen). The shadowy figure he thought he saw very quickly turns into the silhouette of someone will suspiciously spiky hair (then again, he reminds himself desperately, Danny often has vicious bedhead), and at the very moment Kris recalls Danny sleeping very soundly in the bed beside his own, Adam flicks on the small light nearest to the sink.
It isn't a disappointment, per say, that Adam happened to be up as well, more of an inconvenience - added puzzlement to his already befuddled mind on top of his exhaustion. The light of the lamp extends to Adam's chest and covers Kris' face and neck; a snide voice inside comments that if events earlier today (yesterday? He doesn't know the time) should foretell anything, he'll soon be grateful for the lack of visibility below his waist. "Hey," he says to Adam; his voice is hoarse from singing and talking at the concert after-party last night.
The older, taller (wiser?) man licks around his ice cream cone; Kris swallows as he watches Adam's long tongue, swirled with white. "You're up late. What's keeping you from sleeping?" he asks, as amiable as ever.
You, Kris thinks, but he can't very well say that - so he answers, "Just one of those nights."
Adam nods sympathetically, sweeping his tongue across the expanse of vanilla and burrowing it into the center. Think about Adam's hips, Kris tells himself; his mouth has gone dry and it's ridiculous how fucking dirty a twenty three year old's mind can get at three in the morning in the middle of a tour bus kitchen.
For the first time, Kris' choice to eye Adam's hipbone is purely intentional. Anything but that stupid ice cream cone. Naturally, he fails at holding his stare any longer than three seconds, and looks right back up at Adam's face.
Adam's eyes are squinted in his confused way, and Kris can tell he wants to ask, Are you okay? and fuss over him like a mother hen. Adam, though, is able to resist his urge, and instead holds out his ice cream to Kris.
For a dumbfounded moment, Kris simply stares. By now, he is indeed grateful for the relative darkness shielding his lower body. "Want some?" Adam asks, barely covering up the beat of awkward silence.
"Oh. Um, yeah. Sure." He nods and leans forward; Adam tilts the ice cream towards Kris' mouth and he leans forward, sealing his lips around it. His cheeks light on fire in the darkness of the bus, and Kris notes merely another poor decision in recent days.
And Adam - shit, Adam - Adam's eyes flare with something closer to recognition than anything Kris has ever seen (Adam knows, he always knows) as Kris takes a long bite.
Slowly, he leans away, his mouth wet and his lips sticky. "Thanks," Kris feels the need to say. His voice is smooth, now; nearly silky.
Equally sluggishly, Adam nods, and licks his ice cream once more, his tongue curving over the shape of Kris' mouth. "I'm trying to lose some weight anyway. Thanks for helping me with my diet," he smiles, though a bit subdued for Adam, and Kris wonders if he's imagining the surprised (shaken?) look etched into his brow.
Adam's eyes trace the curve of Kris' jaw as he swallows. Shit, he thinks. Adam. He is suddenly certain that Adam knows, or is at least halfway there, and asks himself if there's anything he can say or do.
No. Nothing as simple as that. Tomorrow, perhaps. Allison - Katy - there are people enough to talk to, if he chooses (and he won't. Not yet).
Kris yawns. "I'm going to bed."
Adam's ice cream has been licked down to the cone. He smiles vaguely and says, "I'll see you in the morning."
Even long after he's crawled into his bunk, tired and confused, Kris can feel the heat of Adam's eyes as they followed him on his way out. He stares at the ceiling until his eyes begin to burn and force themselves close, and his last thought before sleep is that something, right or wrong, must be done.
elevation
part 2
Yes.
Immediately, Kris' clenches his fists.
Yes to being in love - with Adam, no less? How could I ever... he thinks immediately, hs mind jumping to Katy. Am I really in love with Adam?
Kris takes a deep breath and switches to another musical track than "Say," one that isn't as cheery - some slow Jason Mraz song. He isn't sure how ready he is for that answer, and even less sure if he's ready to do anything about it.
As it is, he continues to sneak glances at Adam's (delectable, irresistible - damn, there aren't really adequate words) hips and allows his drawn out looks to answer his question themselves.
Later that night, when he stirs out of an uneasy sleep to piss, Kris stares at the painfully white toilet bowl and tries so very hard not to think of anything at all. He's feeling sluggish, so it works - sort of - but his hazy mind still finds a way to work around it.
That's how Kris finds himself a) peeing and b) wondering how the fuck (when he's tired, he finds himself dropping cuss words at the drop of a hat) he's supposed to reply to a question he already knows the answer to.
Am I in love with Adam Lambert? Kris repeats (yes yes yes yes yes, his mind screams); he wonders again if it even matters. Katy is his best friend - Katy is (should be, at the very least) everything to him - what reason does he have to risk it all for a man who may not return his feelings?
He's surprised to find a thousand - no, a million reasons - counting down inside his head, and wearily pulls up his pajama bottoms.
Kris no longer feels like going back to his bunk and suffocating in the sweat-soaked sheets. The kitchen/living room should be available, though, and he trudges into the next room.
At first, it appears to be empty; at the very least, no lights are on. He squints carefully at and puts on his glasses (the very same glasses Adam has designated as the most adorkable thing he's ever seen). The shadowy figure he thought he saw very quickly turns into the silhouette of someone will suspiciously spiky hair (then again, he reminds himself desperately, Danny often has vicious bedhead), and at the very moment Kris recalls Danny sleeping very soundly in the bed beside his own, Adam flicks on the small light nearest to the sink.
It isn't a disappointment, per say, that Adam happened to be up as well, more of an inconvenience - added puzzlement to his already befuddled mind on top of his exhaustion. The light of the lamp extends to Adam's chest and covers Kris' face and neck; a snide voice inside comments that if events earlier today (yesterday? He doesn't know the time) should foretell anything, he'll soon be grateful for the lack of visibility below his waist. "Hey," he says to Adam; his voice is hoarse from singing and talking at the concert after-party last night.
The older, taller (wiser?) man licks around his ice cream cone; Kris swallows as he watches Adam's long tongue, swirled with white. "You're up late. What's keeping you from sleeping?" he asks, as amiable as ever.
You, Kris thinks, but he can't very well say that - so he answers, "Just one of those nights."
Adam nods sympathetically, sweeping his tongue across the expanse of vanilla and burrowing it into the center. Think about Adam's hips, Kris tells himself; his mouth has gone dry and it's ridiculous how fucking dirty a twenty three year old's mind can get at three in the morning in the middle of a tour bus kitchen.
For the first time, Kris' choice to eye Adam's hipbone is purely intentional. Anything but that stupid ice cream cone. Naturally, he fails at holding his stare any longer than three seconds, and looks right back up at Adam's face.
Adam's eyes are squinted in his confused way, and Kris can tell he wants to ask, Are you okay? and fuss over him like a mother hen. Adam, though, is able to resist his urge, and instead holds out his ice cream to Kris.
For a dumbfounded moment, Kris simply stares. By now, he is indeed grateful for the relative darkness shielding his lower body. "Want some?" Adam asks, barely covering up the beat of awkward silence.
"Oh. Um, yeah. Sure." He nods and leans forward; Adam tilts the ice cream towards Kris' mouth and he leans forward, sealing his lips around it. His cheeks light on fire in the darkness of the bus, and Kris notes merely another poor decision in recent days.
And Adam - shit, Adam - Adam's eyes flare with something closer to recognition than anything Kris has ever seen (Adam knows, he always knows) as Kris takes a long bite.
Slowly, he leans away, his mouth wet and his lips sticky. "Thanks," Kris feels the need to say. His voice is smooth, now; nearly silky.
Equally sluggishly, Adam nods, and licks his ice cream once more, his tongue curving over the shape of Kris' mouth. "I'm trying to lose some weight anyway. Thanks for helping me with my diet," he smiles, though a bit subdued for Adam, and Kris wonders if he's imagining the surprised (shaken?) look etched into his brow.
Adam's eyes trace the curve of Kris' jaw as he swallows. Shit, he thinks. Adam. He is suddenly certain that Adam knows, or is at least halfway there, and asks himself if there's anything he can say or do.
No. Nothing as simple as that. Tomorrow, perhaps. Allison - Katy - there are people enough to talk to, if he chooses (and he won't. Not yet).
Kris yawns. "I'm going to bed."
Adam's ice cream has been licked down to the cone. He smiles vaguely and says, "I'll see you in the morning."
Even long after he's crawled into his bunk, tired and confused, Kris can feel the heat of Adam's eyes as they followed him on his way out. He stares at the ceiling until his eyes begin to burn and force themselves close, and his last thought before sleep is that something, right or wrong, must be done.