FIC: They Come in Threes - Part 1/2 (American Idol/Merlin crossover, Kris/Adam, R)
Yuletide reveal! So I wrote a crossover :D SHOCKING, I know. I was incredibly excited and freaked out when I got my assignment, and a little shocked that of the 30 or so fandoms I offered -- and I offered some pretty rare fandoms -- Idol was the one I got, but you know, I cannot complain :-) I felt a little guilty at first for getting a fandom that was already popular, and then crossing it over with an even more popular fandom, but hey, gift fic; it was a cool story to tell, and I thought my recipient would like it. It ended up being the longest story I've ever written (and finished), so this was a pretty big achievement for me too, and as always, I am thankful for yuletide ♥.
They Come in Threes
~12900 words | Kris/Adam | R | Merlin crossover
Warnings: possible consent issues (magic spells).
Notes: Written for astolat for yuletide 2009. Thank you so, so much thedeadparrot for the nonstop and invaluable cheering, hannahrorlove for the beta, miarr for the support and the all-nighter and such, and most of all minglingcrab for being the most amazing beta in the universe and for taking my writing and giving it a huge premium upgrade. I am not kidding when I say that anything here that isn't as good as it could be is totally on me. And obviously thank you to astolat for a) the awesome prompt, b) YULETIDE, and c) reeling me into Idol fandom, via Merlin, to begin with ♥.
Summary: Adam gets three wishes.
Entire fic at the Archive Of Our Own, or in two parts under the cut.
It could pretty much be safely said that it was the most surprising vodka bottle of Adam's life.
Because, sure, he'd found surprises at the bottom of bottles of liquor before. There had been bottles that ended in epiphanies, and bottles that ended in disturbingly frank heart-to-hearts with Danny Gokey, and that one bottle that ended in Adam accidentally trying to pick up a guy on Twitter.
There was nothing quite so unexpected, though, as peering down inside a bottle of vodka and seeing it stare back at you.
Not the bottle itself, naturally. Because that would be ridiculous. It was the pair of yellow eyes blinking up at him from beneath the clear liquor that made Adam yell and instinctively throw the bottle as far away from him as he could, which in this case meant smack into the red and green mural Drake had painted for him two weeks before they broke up.
Nothing happened.
It was just his imagination. Adam stared at the smashed and clearly eyeless fragments littering his living room with relief. Relief that lasted for all of ten seconds, until the air around the shards of glass kind of gathered inward and formed itself into an actual corporeal body, thin and awkward and wearing the most horrifically unfortunate kerchief Adam had ever seen tied around its neck.
"Oh, no," it said sadly. "Not again."
Adam stared at the thing. The boy. The ghost, holy fucking shit, Adam's vodka bottle was haunted. "What the fuck!"
The ghost drew itself up. "There's no need to take that tone," it said indignantly. "You're the one who smashed my home to pieces."
"I-no! What?" Adam pointed at the ghost, sputtering. "You're in my house. Seriously, what the hell."
The ghost sighed. "Look, it's all right. I'll find a new bottle. And I accept your apology," it added pointedly.
"You'll find a new bottle," Adam repeated, and then gave a small panicked laugh, because no, really, he was home alone with a ghost with yellow eyes, and he'd only ever seen one episode of Supernatural because that shit was fucking scary but he still knew that yellow-eyed creatures meant just run away, do not collect two hundred dollars, and seriously, there were glass shards all over the place and everyone knew ghosts could fling those around with their minds.
"Shit," Adam said, realizing his situation. But then he actually thought about his situation and remembered that it was 5AM and he was kind of tired and sexually frustrated and partially heartbroken and also he'd just drunk an entire bottle of vodka. Which was, in its own way, kind of a relief, so he amended that to, "Shit, I am so wasted."
Adam's vodka ghost frowned. Adam's imaginary vodka ghost. It was kind of funny, now that Adam thought about it. He choked out a scary kind of giggle.
"Are you all right?" Adam's imaginary vodka ghost asked with concern.
"Probably not," Adam said, trying to walk to the kitchen in a straight line, because he really needed to sober up if things were this bad. "I'm drunk enough to be hallucinating, and I'm pretty sure I haven't taken any pills tonight. And apparently I'm talking to myself now, too, because you're not really here."
"What, you think you're imagining me?" Adam's imaginary vodka ghost said, following him into the kitchen. "I think I'm insulted."
Adam opened the door to the fridge. If he didn't look at the ghost, it was almost like it wasn't there. "Ghosts don't really exist," he said, taking out a bottle of mineral water and uncapping it. "And they don't just randomly have British accents. And I refuse to believe they'd ever wear that fashion monstrosity even if they've been dead for a hundred years. But mostly they don't have all of these things because they aren't actually real. Ergo," Adam said, taking a sip of water and feeling proud of himself for remembering Latin even in this state, "you are not really here."
The ghost stared at Adam long and hard; then it grabbed the bottle from Adam and splashed some water on Adam's face, which kind of put a damper on Adam's theory, not to mention on his hair. Adam blinked at the ghost through wet lashes.
"Look, the fact that you're drunk doesn't actually negate my existence," the ghost said crossly. "And-all right, I'm sorry for that, but you'll dry off, you don't have to give me that look." The ghost's totally-not-real expression softened. "Er, let me get you a towel." Its eyes flashed yellow again-Adam's heart stopped for a moment-and suddenly Adam's yellow-striped kitchen towel was in its hand, and the ghost was gently, almost professionally, patting Adam's face and hair with it. "How about we start over," it offered. "I'm Merlin. I was entrapped in a small space for a very long time, and since you've freed me, I'm bound to grant you three wishes, and then I can go back home." The soft towel patted Adam's brow one last time. "Er, I'll also need another bottle to spend the night in." The ghost took a step back and smiled.
Its eyes were blue now, Adam noticed. Kind of light blue. And friendly. Like Casper.
"Okay," Adam said slowly. "I'm just going to go to bed and pass out now."
As he left the kitchen, he heard a small voice saying, "I'll just use this bottle here then," and then in an even smaller voice, now hollow and plasticky and echoing: "Good night."
Adam woke up in the morning with a dry mouth and a splitting headache. He remembered bits and pieces from the night before-meeting Drake at that party, getting that weird text from Kris, a vague dream about an English ghost. He slapped his hand down on the alarm, which was blaring out Ryan Seacrest on Kiss FM. There was someplace he needed to be.
His phone chimed. "Shut the fuck up," Adam groaned, and fumbled around until his fingers closed around it on the bed stand. New text message from Kris.
Weird night yesterday, may have sent embarrassing texts, please ignore. See you at the studio.
Right. The studio. They were recording a track for the season nine Idol promo today. Or learning the track. Or maybe learning and recording? Whatever it was, Adam needed to leave in half an hour if he wanted to make it with traffic.
Adam caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror on his way to the shower. Christ, he must have been in seriously bad shape last night if he hadn't even removed his makeup. He stepped under the steaming water, scrubbing his face, trying to piece together a clearer picture of the club. There had definitely been dancing. And drinking. And that piercing moment when he'd realized why Brad was trying to pull him away, trying to hide him from the sight of Drake fucking draped on a tall, leather-clad guy's shoulder - because Drake so totally had a type - and Adam didn't resent leather-clad guy, he didn't, except that he could still remember Drake's fingers in his hair and Drake's tongue on his dick and Adam had both a heart and an ego and yeah, okay, it hurt a little.
And there was no one worse for Adam when he was in a vulnerable state than Kris fucking Allen, who knew just how to ignite the crush-turned-friendship-turned-head-over-heels-turned-who-even-knew-anymore that Adam had found himself afflicted with for the past year. They were friends, always that, and God knows Adam loved him anyway, but everyone knew Kris Allen was a tease, and sometimes he would say something, or text something-Dude, you look good. Details. Naked girl. What? or Gold plaid briefs. Should I or shouldn't I? or Nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be, like last night, which-what did that even mean? Or he would just give Adam this look, all smooth and calm under lowered eyelashes, serious and studying and sexy, and for those small, unexpected moments all Adam could feel would be that overwhelming loss of what might have been, if only.
But Kris was married, happily married, and probably straight, and they were really good friends, and Kris was never a good topic to think about in the shower-not when Adam was sober, and especially not when he needed to make it short if he didn't want to be late.
When he got out of the shower, he was surprised to smell something from the kitchen. Eggs, and toast, and oh dear God fresh, strong coffee, and Adam was pretty sure he hadn't brought anyone over last night but if he had, he was totally keeping him. Except that when he walked into the kitchen he was confronted by the sight of an omelet flipping itself over a sizzling pan, a cup of coffee making its way from the coffeemaker to the set table in midair, two knives buttering and spreading jam on two pieces of toast, and sitting on the counter, a painfully horribly dressed boy who looked painfully, horribly familiar. "Holy shit!" Adam yelled, and that felt familiar too. All at once, the eggs flopped onto the pan and the knives clanged on the counter and the floating coffee cup crashed to the floor. It was like someone had walked into Hogwarts and shut off the power.
The boy winced. "Have you ever thought of being a singer?" he asked, rubbing an ear with his hand. "Your voice goes really, really high."
"I thought you were a dream!" Adam said weakly.
"Yes, I know you did," the boy said cheerfully, looking like a freaking elf with his big happy ears. "Yet here I am. Told you so." He hopped off the counter. His eyes flashed yellow for a brief yet still amazingly terrifying moment, and a sweeping gesture of his arm was followed by the kitchen floor cleaning itself up.
The toaster dinged.
"Ah," the boy said. "Breakfast?"
Adam knew he should have refused-if only because he could really use some more time to freak out about this before making any decisions like accepting magically created candy from strangers. But really, the food smelled so good and he hadn't had a nice, proper breakfast in such a long time, and his previous encounters with the boy had all resulted in broken glassware and Adam really liked his things, so maybe it was time to try a different tactic.
"So, do you have any ideas for a wish yet?" the boy - Merlin, Adam remembered from last night - asked. "I don't mean to rush you, but the only way I can get home is if I fulfill your three wishes, and, well. I'm sort of needed there."
"Explain to me how this works," Adam said, pushing a piece of toast towards Merlin and gesturing, because eating alone wasn't very classy.
Merlin looked surprised at the offer. "Well," he said, breaking off a piece and putting it in his mouth, "You make a wish. I make it come true. It really isn't that complicated."
There was still the very real possibility that Adam was crazy, of course, which he was keeping in careful storage at the back of his mind for later examination. But on the other hand, there was the vodka bottle. And the floating toast. For the purposes of finishing a good breakfast and getting to work on time, Adam figured he could suspend his disbelief. "So you're like a… genie in a bottle? For real?"
"I suppose," Merlin said, chewing thoughtfully, "Except, well, a wizard, but yes."
"This is so unreal. No, I believe you," he assured Merlin when he saw his eyes widen, "but still. Wow. How do I know what to wish for?"
"I don't think there's a system to it. Just choose what's on your mind, I guess."
Adam thought back to what-might-have-been and if only, and shook his head at himself, because this was ridiculous. "But there are rules, right?" he asked. "Like, if I say, 'I wish for Kris Allen to fall in love with me-'"
"Done!" Merlin proclaimed.
Adam was up so fast that his chair toppled back with a clang. "What?"
Merlin's eyes were fading back from yellow. "Kris Allen is now in love with you."
"It was just an example! Genies can't make people fall in love! Everyone knows that!"
"Er. How?"
"It was in Aladdin," Adam said desperately, because holy shit no, no, no, Kris could not actually be in love with him, everybody fucking knew that love spells never worked. It was in the movies.
"I don't know what Aladdin is," Merlin said. "But I'm a wizard, not a genie? I think we're better."
Maybe it wasn't Kris. Maybe it was Kris Allen, Christian country singer. Adam didn't know what he would do if Kris Allen, Christian country singer was in love with him, except that it would probably involve Southern courting rituals of some kind, and Adam's security could deal with it without too much trauma. Hell, Adam would give the guy a fucking round in bed if it meant that Merlin hadn't done anything to Kris. "How do you know it was the right Kris Allen?"
"Oh, I don't, but the spell does. Don't worry. Kris Allen is deeeefinitely in love with you now." Merlin smiled brightly, and added in a small voice, "Hurrah!"
It was probably just a mistake, Adam told himself-repeatedly-on his way to the studio. He'd misunderstood Merlin, or-maybe Merlin had misunderstood his own powers. And if it wasn't a mistake it would still be okay because he and Kris were friends and Kris was married and Kris was a rational human being, and they would deal with this like the adults they pretended to be, excluding any time Kris was wearing those dinosaur patterned pajama pants of his, because there was no pretending to be an adult in those. Adam could always use his second wish to un-wish it, as Merlin had glumly suggested before Adam left. It would be a shame, because Adam could also wish for great skin or fast metabolism or peace on Earth, but you win some, you lose some.
Really, though, it was probably just a mistake.
Please, Adam prayed, let it be a mistake.
Kris was waiting for Adam on the front steps of the building, wearing a heavy coat entirely unsuited for California winters and a pair of sunglasses that hid his eyes. "Honey," he said, and that was it, Adam was going to kill Merlin. He was going to go read up on genies and wizards and the ways of extermination thereof, and then he was going to drink a lot.
"-And lemon," Kris continued, holding out a cup of steaming tea. "Works magic. Drink up, man, we got work to do."
...Oh. Adam let out a breath. "Thanks," he said, taking the cup from Kris's hand. Their fingers brushed slightly, but just the normal amount, Adam thought, not like, I'm going to seduce Adam with lingering touches of my adorably small but manly fingers around seemingly mundane objects. It was just a meaningless touch.
"Gotta keep the golden boy's voice in good shape." Kris nudged Adam's shoulder. Which was okay; Kris touched Adam all the time. He was a touchy guy. It wasn't suspicious at all. Adam really had to stop analyzing everything Kris did. He put the cup to his lips, gingerly taking a sip.
Kris took off his sunglasses. "Mmm, that's hot," he said in a low voice, his eyes on Adam's mouth. Adam did a spit-take, and continued coughing as Kris looked at him like he was crazy. "The tea," Kris pointed out. "Dude, are you okay?"
"Shit, sorry," Adam said, except it came out more like thit, thorry because his tongue was burning. "Yeah, I'm fine. Let's just go inside."
Kris gave him a dubious look, but shrugged and led the way into the studio. Adam kept himself a safe distance behind. He took another long sip of his tea, absently wishing it were spiked. Not out loud, though, because he was never wishing for anything out loud ever again, even if things seemed to be pretty normal with Kris so far. Adam wondered whether Kris Allen and Southern Thunder would be banging down his door by the end of the day, after all.
"Seriously, man, are you okay?" Kris asked, glancing back at Adam; Adam only just stopped himself from crashing into him. "You look beat."
No, Adam thought, just mildly panicked that at any moment you or your Christian country counterpart will decide to jump me.
"Rough night," Adam said.
"Me too." Kris pursed his lips to the side. "Not that I spent it - well, probably not like yours, I mean. I mean, uh - I didn't mean it like that." Kris paused, looking embarrassed. "Shoot."
And suddenly Kris was just Kris again - adorable, fumbling, and one of Adam's best friends. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off Adam's chest. He'd been acting like a complete idiot; whatever was or wasn't going on with Merlin, Kris was himself, and Adam could go back to being himself, too.
"Kris Allen, are you trying to say you had a rough night?" he teased.
"Shut up." The color rose slightly in Kris's cheeks.
Adam laughed. "Wanna tell me about it?"
Kris blushed even more strongly. "How about not." He narrowed his eyes at Adam. "What about you, being all-" Kris wiggled his hand around vaguely "-jumpy?"
Adam gave Kris an appraising glance, and for a moment he considered telling Kris everything. But that would entail actually saying the words, So, I may have wished for you to fall in love with me out loud, which, no. One hundred times, no. In the end he sighed, and said, "You don't even want to know."
Things were normal for the rest of the morning. Recording the vocals for the twenty-second track took less time than Adam had expected it would, and hanging out with Kris was easy and fun. They'd been able to keep in touch pretty well over the months since the Idol tour, but it was still rare for them to get to spend actual time together; so when the kind gentlewomen of FOX dismissed them at noon, it only felt natural to invite Kris to grab a cup of coffee.
"Sure," Kris said, after a pause for consideration that felt just a half-second too long. "Yeah, okay. I just need to call Katy." For some reason, Kris stepped out of the room to make the phone call. Adam didn't pay it too much attention, though, and figured that as long as he was alone, he might as well make use of the time to make a call of his own.
Merlin picked up after the third ring. "Lambert chambers."
"Chambers? Really?"
"What-oh, right. You call them apartments."
Adam actually preferred the term one step away from a superstar mansion, but he was in a generous mood right now. "No, you can call it chambers. I like it! People will think I built an S&M dungeon and that you're my new slave."
"Er," said Merlin.
"I could call you Simon, and then people would really get Freudian."
"Is the purpose of this conversation to mock me?" Merlin asked. "Because I really do get that enough even when I'm not enslaved as a wish-fulfiller."
Adam chuckled. "No. I just wanted to tell you that it's all cool, you're off the hook. I've been with Kris all day, and he's been acting exactly the same as always."
"No un-wishing, then?"
"Nope." Kris entered the room again, so Adam lowered his voice. "We'll talk when I get home tonight."
"In that case, I'll be napping in my bottle."
"Fine," Adam laughed. "Go to sleep."
When he hung up the phone, Kris raised an eyebrow at him. "Who was that?"
Adam pulled on his coat and scarf to buy himself time to think. "Houseguest," he said. Kris furrowed his brow, but didn't say anything, even if he looked like he might have wanted to. "Come on," Adam said. "Coffee time."
The thing was, now that the idea of a relationship with Kris had been triggered in Adam's mind, implausible and impossible as it was, it was really, really hard to stop looking for clues that Kris wanted him. Or, to be more precise-if Adam were to be totally honest with himself-it was hard to stop looking at Kris, period. Over the long period of his acquaintance with Kris, Adam had pretty competently honed his ability to categorize Kris under "strictly platonic" as opposed to "yes please", but just like last night, it was as if that switch in Adam's brain had been turned on again after being tamped down.
And Kris, being Kris, was making it so easy. California might not be New York, but it was still cold outside in mid-December; not cold enough, though, to stop the American Idol from opening the shirt under his jacket two buttons too many, revealing a strip of miraculously tanned and damn lickable skin. Kris was also doing that thing where he tossed his head back in laughter, showing off that long, smooth neck, his Adam's apple-which Adam felt irrationally possessive about; it was his name, so sue him-bobbing up and down, just like it did when Kris threw himself completely into singing onstage. And then there was the way Kris smacked his lips every time he made a self-deprecating joke, like Adam wasn't already perfectly aware that they were there, thank you very much, or the way that Kris's gaze would occasionally fall on Adam, eyes dark and sly and crinkling at the corners, and it was so, so easy to read meanings and signals that weren't really there.
Coffee turned into an early lunch at a small Italian place down the block from the studio, where they were joined by Tommy, who'd passed by on his way in. By the time Kris was licking, nay, ravaging his spoon of the last of the chocolate syrup-because of course Kris Allen and his supernatural metabolism could afford to have dessert after lunch-Adam was both fighting the urge to stare at his mouth, and fighting the urge to read something into the fact that Kris was maybe-almost-but-probably-not checking out Adam's reaction from behind half-lidded eyes. When Kris excused himself to go to the bathroom, Adam scooted closer to Tommy. "Have you noticed Kris acting weird today?"
Tommy shrugged, picking a slice of tomato off of Adam's plate. "Not any differently than any other time I've met him."
Adam sat back, relaxing a little. Tommy had good instincts about people.
When Kris came back out, he was holding a popsicle-which made so much sense in this weather-in one hand, and slipping his phone into his pocket with the other. "Apparently I have a couple hours free," Kris said. "I don't have to be at NBC till three. You guys have any plans?" He sucked the tip of the popsicle casually, dyeing his lips and tongue a strong strawberry pink. Adam forced himself not to groan out loud.
"Rehearsal," he managed. Tommy lifted a pale, amused eyebrow in Adam's direction. Adam patently ignored him. "You know you're welcome to join us."
"Maybe you can learn and give your guitarist tips on how to move a little," Tommy added, smirking. The idea that Tommy paid enough attention to remember Kris's guitarist-who, Adam sadly concurred, tended to play his guitar as if he were an ornamental block of wood-made Adam unexpectedly pleased.
"Andrew?" Kris sighed. "Yeah, we're working on it."
Rehearsal went well.
Okay, no, rehearsal went fucking fantastic. They were finally working on new stuff; Adam loved Whataya Want From Me, he really did, but he was itching to finally sing songs with an actual dance beat on New Year's Eve. The band was getting really comfortable, backup voices and music consolidating with practice into something whole, and Adam was letting loose with the vocals. He couldn't deny that Kris's presence was affecting his performance; it was fun to have an audience he could put on a show for, and it was especially fun to have that audience be Kris, whose grin was almost challenging. Come on, it seemed to say, just try to shock me. Adam raised his voice to outrageous falsettos just because he could, Kris's forte more than his own but Adam could go fucking high when he wanted to, grinning widely when Kris raised his arms in surrender. He danced and gyrated, letting himself drown in the music and lyrics.
"I wanna see you, touch you one on one," he sang at Tommy, dragging a hand down his back, and Tommy smirked and moved with him because Adam had the best band ever. The beat of the chorus pounded through him, bass traveling from his feet to his chest, loud and sexy; he focused his attention on the audience. "Your skin is burning at the sight of me-" Kris's eyes widened imperceptibly-"Your mask can't hide what you're thinking. Don't ask-" he swerved to Tommy, breathing into his ear-"Don't tell," and Tommy shivered and turned and ground his ass against Adam, and that was it, the rest of the song, him Tommy and the music, wild and playful and hot.
When the song was done he let out an exhilarated whoop, clapping his hands a few times because his guys fucking rocked. "You could pay me some attention too, you know," Lisa said wryly, and Tommy ran a hand through his hair, smirking, "Jealous?", and Monte suggested, "Maybe you should save the part where you're draped all over one another for the bridge," so it took a couple of moments for Adam to get down from his high and realize that Kris was still sitting in the room, wearing a deep scowl on his face.
He frowned. "Kris?"
"Yeah." Kris's voice held faint edges of tension, which, for Kris Allen, was saying a lot. "It was good."
Adam raised his eyebrows. "The vocals or the show?"
"Um, both," he said. "You could, uh, pay Lisa more attention like she said, but it was great, man." Kris stood up. "I should go." He strapped his bag over his shoulder, flatly skimming all their faces, lingering on Tommy, and then he turned back to Adam abruptly. "Hey, you wanna come with?"
"I'm-working," Adam said, bewildered.
"Well, if you want, I mean." Kris shrugged, suddenly looking a little sheepish. "It's Jimmy Fallon. Robert Pattinson's gonna be on, no one'll notice you. It's supposed to be fun."
Adam shouldn't, it would be totally unprofessional, but-Kris was making that puppy dog face that he probably didn't even realize he made, plus with these mood swings Adam was still a little bit worried that Merlin had somehow given him some kind of brain damage. And it had honestly been fun hanging out together all day long. Adam didn't know when they'd get the chance to do it again. Damn it, he used to be spontaneous.
The struggle must have shown on his face, because the next thing he heard was Tommy saying, "Go. We could use some more practice on the set list without you anyway."
Tommy was either being a sweetheart or messing with him somehow, and Adam wasn't sure which. "You sure?"
"Scoot." Tommy made a little shooing motion with his guitar. "We have no use here for people who don't play instruments." Longineu played a rimshot, Tommy flipped him the finger, and next thing Kris and Adam were walking down to Adam's car, because it made more sense to share and Kris drove like an old lady on diazepam.
It had been a long time since Adam had come to see someone perform strictly in a cheerleading capacity. He considered lowering his shades and pulling up his scarf because he'd hate to steal any attention away from Kris at his own show; but Adam's hair was done up high and spiky and awesome, and he was not about to flatten it for anonymity's sake. Adam had his limits.
Still, he managed to stay fairly inconspicuous, using the back entrance to the lot and slinking into the studio with Kris. Kris's mood seemed to lift again when he saw his band; there was a cheerful round of bro-hugs and manly slaps on the back. And Kris was totally back to himself during sound check, bouncing and wiggling around on stage like he was singing in the shower and no one else was watching. Except that if Kris were singing in the shower he wouldn't be wearing those excruciatingly tight jeans or that lumberjack stripper half-buttoned shirt, and would in fact be-
Adam resolutely cut off the train of thought, because he was so not going there. Not again. Instead, he focused on Kris's voice; "Chestnuts roasting," Kris sang, eyes closed, jazzy and smooth. It was a perfect Kris Allen arrangement, and Adam smiled, standing off to the side of the stage. You could be the biggest Grinch in the world and hearing Kris's performance would still make you feel warm and fuzzy and homey, like someone was enveloping you in a big cozy hug from behind, snuggling in front of a fireplace. Adam closed his eyes as well, letting Kris's voice and soft guitars roll over him.
When he opened his eyes, Kris was looking at him. Still singing, just-singing at Adam. Singing at Adam and doing that thing to his microphone, which was completely unfair, because Adam had been trying to get over this all day, and fuck it, he couldn't even decide whether he was more delighted that Kris was fellating his microphone singing Christmas carols, or annoyed that he was doing it while staring so intensely at Adam. Not unlike the way he might stare at, say, a Chick-Fil-A chargrilled club sandwich. That he wanted to fuck.
Adam felt his heart start to race. While despoiling microphones was definitely within the spectrum of normal Kris Allen behavior, actually winking as he sang, "Make the yuletide gay" was very possibly not.
Adam took out his phone and dialed Tommy. "So this morning you told me Kris wasn't acting weird."
"I told you he was acting the same as always."
"I think he was trying to flirt," Adam hissed.
Tommy started to laugh. "Honey, flirting is Kris's default setting when he's around you."
Kris was still looking at Adam with that mischievous glint in his eye. "Okay, but Kris flirts with everyone."
"Look, I don't know the guy that well, but from what I've seen of him? It's just you." Tommy paused. "And sometimes that MTV guy."
"Christ, I hate you." Adam hung up on Tommy cracking up in the background.
Merlin wasn't picking up the phone, because apparently genies came with extremely crappy customer service and without twenty-four hour tech support. It was so awesome having a genie who spent all day napping in his bottle after enchanting Adam's best friend to fall in love with him. Really. Adam tried not to be bitter, but this was not the way Christina's song had made genies out to be.
Really, the best thing Adam could do right now was to get as far away from Kris as he could, get home, and un-wish the whole thing.
Unfortunately, he bumped into Jay Leno on his way out of the studio, and Jay was thrilled to see him because they were just filming a short segment about mistletoe and would he-? And before Adam could politely decline because hello, love spell, Jay said, "Of course, if you want to check in with your publicist-", and fuck that.
And so it was that he was slowly leaning in to kiss Jay Leno's correspondent under a dangling branch of mistletoe when Kris rounded the corner and stopped in his tracks.
"All right, that's it," Kris said darkly, marching up to Adam and grabbing his hand. The cameraman cut away, and the correspondent managed to put in a "Thanks, man," before Adam was being dragged away down the corridor and past a few startled interns, and then around the corner into a storage closet with the door shutting closed behind them, and the next thing Adam felt was his back slamming into the wall with a thud.
Kris closed in on him like prey, one palm splayed flat on Adam's chest and the other against the wall by Adam's head. "So here's the thing-" he said, and crushed his lips against Adam's.
Kris was kissing him, hot and rough and possessive, his hand curling in the fabric of Adam's shirt and pulling him closer. It was like getting the breath knocked out of him and taking a deep breath at once; Adam closed his eyes and parted his lips, his body following motions that had played out in his mind so many times before, but overloaded with the senses of here and now: Kris's scent and his taste and the sounds he was making, the strength with which he gripped Adam, the way he shivered when Adam licked inside his mouth-
"Fuck," Adam said, tearing himself away from Kris.
"Mmm, if you insist," Kris murmured, apparently taking this as an invitation to lean forward and kiss Adam again.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, Adam thought, turning his head so that Kris would miss his mark, which only made Kris decide to focus on Adam's neck instead. "We can't do this."
"I don't know, man," Kris said, licking a strip beneath Adam's jaw, fuck, and then he rolled his hips forward and-oh-Adam could feel just how into this he was. "I'm feeling up for it."
"Oh, God," Adam said, "even now you're making the dorkiest jokes ever." It was so hard to keep his head clear with Kris infiltrating his nostrils like a drug, musky and still sweaty from the show; with Kris literally breathing down his neck, his mouth grazing Adam's shoulders.
"Oh, I can keep my mouth shut." Adam felt Kris's lips curve into a smile, starting to move downwards. "If you want." Adam laughed a little desperately because dear god on earth could he think of things that would occupy Kris's mouth, like the ten different images attacking him at once-"No," he said frantically, pushing Kris away.
Kris shifted his weight back to his heels, his body still leaning towards Adam, hands on Adam's chest. "Why not?"
"Because none of this is real. Christ." Adam closed his eyes and swallowed. "Just go home and sleep it off and tomorrow we'll pretend none of this ever happened."
"Adam," Kris said, and then more firmly so Adam would look at him, "Adam. It's me."
Adam's heart hurt as he looked at Kris's expression, so deceptively honest. "It's not."
"Are you having, like, an existential crisis here?" Kris's fingers were drawing small patterns on Adam's chest. It felt so good, warm and comfortable; just half a step more intimate than he would usually touch Adam, but that separation might as well have been a canyon. "Cause like, this isn't totally out of the blue. I thought we were kinda on the same page here."
"What about Katy?" Adam said helplessly.
"This is about us, not Katy," Kris said, still trailing with his fingers, and Adam grabbed his wrists to stop him because that was over the fucking line, but Kris continued earnestly, "No, look, she understands. We even experimented with some stuff last night-"
"Stop."
It would be so easy to just say yes, to listen to Kris's excuses and accept them at face value. To let Kris kiss him and blow him and then fuck Kris against the wall, or maybe on a couch-there should be props around here somewhere-and later in his car, and in his bed, and in the shower, and-
And just because Adam was going through a dry spell the size of forever, and just because he was still, God, not over Kris Allen, did not mean that he should ruin his friendship with Kris and ruin Kris's marriage in one stupid move.
Having ethics fucking sucked.
Kris was looking up at him, wide blinking brown eyes. Adam lowered Kris's hands gently. "You're not gonna believe me right now, but this is all just a big mistake, okay? You're not really feeling this. It was a…" Adam took a breath, figuring what the hell, he was already screwed anyhow. "It was a spell. My fault. It'll be okay tomorrow, okay?"
"Riiiight," Kris said. "Look, if you feel so strongly about it that you're all-" Kris waved his hand around, presumably indicating Adam's deteriorating mental faculties- "then okay, hands off for now. But this isn't over."
Adam couldn't help the smile that crept up onto his face. "Is that a warning?"
"I'm small and sneaky. You won't expect me."
"You mean like sneak seduction?" Adam said. "I'll watch out for that."
"I'm serious," Kris said, finally taking a step back, heading backwards towards the door. "I'm like that ninja cat on youtube."
"Go do your show," Adam ordered.
Adam didn't wait a full minute after Kris left to follow him out to the hall and head in the opposite direction. Adam was well due for a freak out, but he wasn't going to do it in the closet.
"Look, you were the one who made the wish!"
"Accidentally," Adam repeated. "And oh my God, what were you doing here all day? How long can you sleep?"
Merlin looked affronted. "I was-what's the word. With the flying ships and the time change."
Adam stopped for a moment. "Jet-lagged?"
"Yes!" Merlin crossed his arms. "It's not like I enjoy being cooped up in a bottle, you know. It comes with the trade."
"Whatever. I'm going to make my second wish now." Adam walked towards his liquor cabinet, but changed his mind halfway there. He should probably be sober this time around.
"Whenever you're ready," Merlin said, and sighed wistfully. "I still think it was a nice wish."
Adam gave him a disbelieving look. "Having someone throw themselves at you only because they were programmed to by magic? Yeah. It's awesome." He laughed bitterly. "I don't even know if we could ever really work, and… this wasn't real. It wasn't natural."
"Is that what you'd like?" Merlin asked closely. "To know whether you and Kris could ever be together?"
Adam considered it for a moment. "Well, sure, but-wait, shit, no!" he yelled, too late; Merlin's eyes were already flashing yellow. "Merlin!"
"You know, you're really starting to sound like someone I know when you use that tone of voice," Merlin said reproachfully. Adam stared. "It's not very becoming for either of you."
"I-" Adam said, and then just gave up, turned on his heels, and slammed the door to the bedroom behind him. He couldn't even guess what Merlin had done, but he would deal with it in the morning, when he could think clearly and carefully about how to make this all go away without making any more stupid wishes.
He watched Conan from bed. Kris kicked ass onstage, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted, and feet looking like they were each trying to climb the other the way he was squirming and kicking them around; but when he sang so if your life flashed before you, what would you wish you would have done, he stared directly into the camera, and Adam could still feel his taste on his lips.
Adam clicked off the TV, rolled over, and went to sleep.
Part 2/2
They Come in Threes
~12900 words | Kris/Adam | R | Merlin crossover
Warnings: possible consent issues (magic spells).
Notes: Written for astolat for yuletide 2009. Thank you so, so much thedeadparrot for the nonstop and invaluable cheering, hannahrorlove for the beta, miarr for the support and the all-nighter and such, and most of all minglingcrab for being the most amazing beta in the universe and for taking my writing and giving it a huge premium upgrade. I am not kidding when I say that anything here that isn't as good as it could be is totally on me. And obviously thank you to astolat for a) the awesome prompt, b) YULETIDE, and c) reeling me into Idol fandom, via Merlin, to begin with ♥.
Summary: Adam gets three wishes.
Entire fic at the Archive Of Our Own, or in two parts under the cut.
It could pretty much be safely said that it was the most surprising vodka bottle of Adam's life.
Because, sure, he'd found surprises at the bottom of bottles of liquor before. There had been bottles that ended in epiphanies, and bottles that ended in disturbingly frank heart-to-hearts with Danny Gokey, and that one bottle that ended in Adam accidentally trying to pick up a guy on Twitter.
There was nothing quite so unexpected, though, as peering down inside a bottle of vodka and seeing it stare back at you.
Not the bottle itself, naturally. Because that would be ridiculous. It was the pair of yellow eyes blinking up at him from beneath the clear liquor that made Adam yell and instinctively throw the bottle as far away from him as he could, which in this case meant smack into the red and green mural Drake had painted for him two weeks before they broke up.
Nothing happened.
It was just his imagination. Adam stared at the smashed and clearly eyeless fragments littering his living room with relief. Relief that lasted for all of ten seconds, until the air around the shards of glass kind of gathered inward and formed itself into an actual corporeal body, thin and awkward and wearing the most horrifically unfortunate kerchief Adam had ever seen tied around its neck.
"Oh, no," it said sadly. "Not again."
Adam stared at the thing. The boy. The ghost, holy fucking shit, Adam's vodka bottle was haunted. "What the fuck!"
The ghost drew itself up. "There's no need to take that tone," it said indignantly. "You're the one who smashed my home to pieces."
"I-no! What?" Adam pointed at the ghost, sputtering. "You're in my house. Seriously, what the hell."
The ghost sighed. "Look, it's all right. I'll find a new bottle. And I accept your apology," it added pointedly.
"You'll find a new bottle," Adam repeated, and then gave a small panicked laugh, because no, really, he was home alone with a ghost with yellow eyes, and he'd only ever seen one episode of Supernatural because that shit was fucking scary but he still knew that yellow-eyed creatures meant just run away, do not collect two hundred dollars, and seriously, there were glass shards all over the place and everyone knew ghosts could fling those around with their minds.
"Shit," Adam said, realizing his situation. But then he actually thought about his situation and remembered that it was 5AM and he was kind of tired and sexually frustrated and partially heartbroken and also he'd just drunk an entire bottle of vodka. Which was, in its own way, kind of a relief, so he amended that to, "Shit, I am so wasted."
Adam's vodka ghost frowned. Adam's imaginary vodka ghost. It was kind of funny, now that Adam thought about it. He choked out a scary kind of giggle.
"Are you all right?" Adam's imaginary vodka ghost asked with concern.
"Probably not," Adam said, trying to walk to the kitchen in a straight line, because he really needed to sober up if things were this bad. "I'm drunk enough to be hallucinating, and I'm pretty sure I haven't taken any pills tonight. And apparently I'm talking to myself now, too, because you're not really here."
"What, you think you're imagining me?" Adam's imaginary vodka ghost said, following him into the kitchen. "I think I'm insulted."
Adam opened the door to the fridge. If he didn't look at the ghost, it was almost like it wasn't there. "Ghosts don't really exist," he said, taking out a bottle of mineral water and uncapping it. "And they don't just randomly have British accents. And I refuse to believe they'd ever wear that fashion monstrosity even if they've been dead for a hundred years. But mostly they don't have all of these things because they aren't actually real. Ergo," Adam said, taking a sip of water and feeling proud of himself for remembering Latin even in this state, "you are not really here."
The ghost stared at Adam long and hard; then it grabbed the bottle from Adam and splashed some water on Adam's face, which kind of put a damper on Adam's theory, not to mention on his hair. Adam blinked at the ghost through wet lashes.
"Look, the fact that you're drunk doesn't actually negate my existence," the ghost said crossly. "And-all right, I'm sorry for that, but you'll dry off, you don't have to give me that look." The ghost's totally-not-real expression softened. "Er, let me get you a towel." Its eyes flashed yellow again-Adam's heart stopped for a moment-and suddenly Adam's yellow-striped kitchen towel was in its hand, and the ghost was gently, almost professionally, patting Adam's face and hair with it. "How about we start over," it offered. "I'm Merlin. I was entrapped in a small space for a very long time, and since you've freed me, I'm bound to grant you three wishes, and then I can go back home." The soft towel patted Adam's brow one last time. "Er, I'll also need another bottle to spend the night in." The ghost took a step back and smiled.
Its eyes were blue now, Adam noticed. Kind of light blue. And friendly. Like Casper.
"Okay," Adam said slowly. "I'm just going to go to bed and pass out now."
As he left the kitchen, he heard a small voice saying, "I'll just use this bottle here then," and then in an even smaller voice, now hollow and plasticky and echoing: "Good night."
Adam woke up in the morning with a dry mouth and a splitting headache. He remembered bits and pieces from the night before-meeting Drake at that party, getting that weird text from Kris, a vague dream about an English ghost. He slapped his hand down on the alarm, which was blaring out Ryan Seacrest on Kiss FM. There was someplace he needed to be.
His phone chimed. "Shut the fuck up," Adam groaned, and fumbled around until his fingers closed around it on the bed stand. New text message from Kris.
Weird night yesterday, may have sent embarrassing texts, please ignore. See you at the studio.
Right. The studio. They were recording a track for the season nine Idol promo today. Or learning the track. Or maybe learning and recording? Whatever it was, Adam needed to leave in half an hour if he wanted to make it with traffic.
Adam caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror on his way to the shower. Christ, he must have been in seriously bad shape last night if he hadn't even removed his makeup. He stepped under the steaming water, scrubbing his face, trying to piece together a clearer picture of the club. There had definitely been dancing. And drinking. And that piercing moment when he'd realized why Brad was trying to pull him away, trying to hide him from the sight of Drake fucking draped on a tall, leather-clad guy's shoulder - because Drake so totally had a type - and Adam didn't resent leather-clad guy, he didn't, except that he could still remember Drake's fingers in his hair and Drake's tongue on his dick and Adam had both a heart and an ego and yeah, okay, it hurt a little.
And there was no one worse for Adam when he was in a vulnerable state than Kris fucking Allen, who knew just how to ignite the crush-turned-friendship-turned-head-over-heels-turned-who-even-knew-anymore that Adam had found himself afflicted with for the past year. They were friends, always that, and God knows Adam loved him anyway, but everyone knew Kris Allen was a tease, and sometimes he would say something, or text something-Dude, you look good. Details. Naked girl. What? or Gold plaid briefs. Should I or shouldn't I? or Nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be, like last night, which-what did that even mean? Or he would just give Adam this look, all smooth and calm under lowered eyelashes, serious and studying and sexy, and for those small, unexpected moments all Adam could feel would be that overwhelming loss of what might have been, if only.
But Kris was married, happily married, and probably straight, and they were really good friends, and Kris was never a good topic to think about in the shower-not when Adam was sober, and especially not when he needed to make it short if he didn't want to be late.
When he got out of the shower, he was surprised to smell something from the kitchen. Eggs, and toast, and oh dear God fresh, strong coffee, and Adam was pretty sure he hadn't brought anyone over last night but if he had, he was totally keeping him. Except that when he walked into the kitchen he was confronted by the sight of an omelet flipping itself over a sizzling pan, a cup of coffee making its way from the coffeemaker to the set table in midair, two knives buttering and spreading jam on two pieces of toast, and sitting on the counter, a painfully horribly dressed boy who looked painfully, horribly familiar. "Holy shit!" Adam yelled, and that felt familiar too. All at once, the eggs flopped onto the pan and the knives clanged on the counter and the floating coffee cup crashed to the floor. It was like someone had walked into Hogwarts and shut off the power.
The boy winced. "Have you ever thought of being a singer?" he asked, rubbing an ear with his hand. "Your voice goes really, really high."
"I thought you were a dream!" Adam said weakly.
"Yes, I know you did," the boy said cheerfully, looking like a freaking elf with his big happy ears. "Yet here I am. Told you so." He hopped off the counter. His eyes flashed yellow for a brief yet still amazingly terrifying moment, and a sweeping gesture of his arm was followed by the kitchen floor cleaning itself up.
The toaster dinged.
"Ah," the boy said. "Breakfast?"
Adam knew he should have refused-if only because he could really use some more time to freak out about this before making any decisions like accepting magically created candy from strangers. But really, the food smelled so good and he hadn't had a nice, proper breakfast in such a long time, and his previous encounters with the boy had all resulted in broken glassware and Adam really liked his things, so maybe it was time to try a different tactic.
"So, do you have any ideas for a wish yet?" the boy - Merlin, Adam remembered from last night - asked. "I don't mean to rush you, but the only way I can get home is if I fulfill your three wishes, and, well. I'm sort of needed there."
"Explain to me how this works," Adam said, pushing a piece of toast towards Merlin and gesturing, because eating alone wasn't very classy.
Merlin looked surprised at the offer. "Well," he said, breaking off a piece and putting it in his mouth, "You make a wish. I make it come true. It really isn't that complicated."
There was still the very real possibility that Adam was crazy, of course, which he was keeping in careful storage at the back of his mind for later examination. But on the other hand, there was the vodka bottle. And the floating toast. For the purposes of finishing a good breakfast and getting to work on time, Adam figured he could suspend his disbelief. "So you're like a… genie in a bottle? For real?"
"I suppose," Merlin said, chewing thoughtfully, "Except, well, a wizard, but yes."
"This is so unreal. No, I believe you," he assured Merlin when he saw his eyes widen, "but still. Wow. How do I know what to wish for?"
"I don't think there's a system to it. Just choose what's on your mind, I guess."
Adam thought back to what-might-have-been and if only, and shook his head at himself, because this was ridiculous. "But there are rules, right?" he asked. "Like, if I say, 'I wish for Kris Allen to fall in love with me-'"
"Done!" Merlin proclaimed.
Adam was up so fast that his chair toppled back with a clang. "What?"
Merlin's eyes were fading back from yellow. "Kris Allen is now in love with you."
"It was just an example! Genies can't make people fall in love! Everyone knows that!"
"Er. How?"
"It was in Aladdin," Adam said desperately, because holy shit no, no, no, Kris could not actually be in love with him, everybody fucking knew that love spells never worked. It was in the movies.
"I don't know what Aladdin is," Merlin said. "But I'm a wizard, not a genie? I think we're better."
Maybe it wasn't Kris. Maybe it was Kris Allen, Christian country singer. Adam didn't know what he would do if Kris Allen, Christian country singer was in love with him, except that it would probably involve Southern courting rituals of some kind, and Adam's security could deal with it without too much trauma. Hell, Adam would give the guy a fucking round in bed if it meant that Merlin hadn't done anything to Kris. "How do you know it was the right Kris Allen?"
"Oh, I don't, but the spell does. Don't worry. Kris Allen is deeeefinitely in love with you now." Merlin smiled brightly, and added in a small voice, "Hurrah!"
It was probably just a mistake, Adam told himself-repeatedly-on his way to the studio. He'd misunderstood Merlin, or-maybe Merlin had misunderstood his own powers. And if it wasn't a mistake it would still be okay because he and Kris were friends and Kris was married and Kris was a rational human being, and they would deal with this like the adults they pretended to be, excluding any time Kris was wearing those dinosaur patterned pajama pants of his, because there was no pretending to be an adult in those. Adam could always use his second wish to un-wish it, as Merlin had glumly suggested before Adam left. It would be a shame, because Adam could also wish for great skin or fast metabolism or peace on Earth, but you win some, you lose some.
Really, though, it was probably just a mistake.
Please, Adam prayed, let it be a mistake.
Kris was waiting for Adam on the front steps of the building, wearing a heavy coat entirely unsuited for California winters and a pair of sunglasses that hid his eyes. "Honey," he said, and that was it, Adam was going to kill Merlin. He was going to go read up on genies and wizards and the ways of extermination thereof, and then he was going to drink a lot.
"-And lemon," Kris continued, holding out a cup of steaming tea. "Works magic. Drink up, man, we got work to do."
...Oh. Adam let out a breath. "Thanks," he said, taking the cup from Kris's hand. Their fingers brushed slightly, but just the normal amount, Adam thought, not like, I'm going to seduce Adam with lingering touches of my adorably small but manly fingers around seemingly mundane objects. It was just a meaningless touch.
"Gotta keep the golden boy's voice in good shape." Kris nudged Adam's shoulder. Which was okay; Kris touched Adam all the time. He was a touchy guy. It wasn't suspicious at all. Adam really had to stop analyzing everything Kris did. He put the cup to his lips, gingerly taking a sip.
Kris took off his sunglasses. "Mmm, that's hot," he said in a low voice, his eyes on Adam's mouth. Adam did a spit-take, and continued coughing as Kris looked at him like he was crazy. "The tea," Kris pointed out. "Dude, are you okay?"
"Shit, sorry," Adam said, except it came out more like thit, thorry because his tongue was burning. "Yeah, I'm fine. Let's just go inside."
Kris gave him a dubious look, but shrugged and led the way into the studio. Adam kept himself a safe distance behind. He took another long sip of his tea, absently wishing it were spiked. Not out loud, though, because he was never wishing for anything out loud ever again, even if things seemed to be pretty normal with Kris so far. Adam wondered whether Kris Allen and Southern Thunder would be banging down his door by the end of the day, after all.
"Seriously, man, are you okay?" Kris asked, glancing back at Adam; Adam only just stopped himself from crashing into him. "You look beat."
No, Adam thought, just mildly panicked that at any moment you or your Christian country counterpart will decide to jump me.
"Rough night," Adam said.
"Me too." Kris pursed his lips to the side. "Not that I spent it - well, probably not like yours, I mean. I mean, uh - I didn't mean it like that." Kris paused, looking embarrassed. "Shoot."
And suddenly Kris was just Kris again - adorable, fumbling, and one of Adam's best friends. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off Adam's chest. He'd been acting like a complete idiot; whatever was or wasn't going on with Merlin, Kris was himself, and Adam could go back to being himself, too.
"Kris Allen, are you trying to say you had a rough night?" he teased.
"Shut up." The color rose slightly in Kris's cheeks.
Adam laughed. "Wanna tell me about it?"
Kris blushed even more strongly. "How about not." He narrowed his eyes at Adam. "What about you, being all-" Kris wiggled his hand around vaguely "-jumpy?"
Adam gave Kris an appraising glance, and for a moment he considered telling Kris everything. But that would entail actually saying the words, So, I may have wished for you to fall in love with me out loud, which, no. One hundred times, no. In the end he sighed, and said, "You don't even want to know."
Things were normal for the rest of the morning. Recording the vocals for the twenty-second track took less time than Adam had expected it would, and hanging out with Kris was easy and fun. They'd been able to keep in touch pretty well over the months since the Idol tour, but it was still rare for them to get to spend actual time together; so when the kind gentlewomen of FOX dismissed them at noon, it only felt natural to invite Kris to grab a cup of coffee.
"Sure," Kris said, after a pause for consideration that felt just a half-second too long. "Yeah, okay. I just need to call Katy." For some reason, Kris stepped out of the room to make the phone call. Adam didn't pay it too much attention, though, and figured that as long as he was alone, he might as well make use of the time to make a call of his own.
Merlin picked up after the third ring. "Lambert chambers."
"Chambers? Really?"
"What-oh, right. You call them apartments."
Adam actually preferred the term one step away from a superstar mansion, but he was in a generous mood right now. "No, you can call it chambers. I like it! People will think I built an S&M dungeon and that you're my new slave."
"Er," said Merlin.
"I could call you Simon, and then people would really get Freudian."
"Is the purpose of this conversation to mock me?" Merlin asked. "Because I really do get that enough even when I'm not enslaved as a wish-fulfiller."
Adam chuckled. "No. I just wanted to tell you that it's all cool, you're off the hook. I've been with Kris all day, and he's been acting exactly the same as always."
"No un-wishing, then?"
"Nope." Kris entered the room again, so Adam lowered his voice. "We'll talk when I get home tonight."
"In that case, I'll be napping in my bottle."
"Fine," Adam laughed. "Go to sleep."
When he hung up the phone, Kris raised an eyebrow at him. "Who was that?"
Adam pulled on his coat and scarf to buy himself time to think. "Houseguest," he said. Kris furrowed his brow, but didn't say anything, even if he looked like he might have wanted to. "Come on," Adam said. "Coffee time."
The thing was, now that the idea of a relationship with Kris had been triggered in Adam's mind, implausible and impossible as it was, it was really, really hard to stop looking for clues that Kris wanted him. Or, to be more precise-if Adam were to be totally honest with himself-it was hard to stop looking at Kris, period. Over the long period of his acquaintance with Kris, Adam had pretty competently honed his ability to categorize Kris under "strictly platonic" as opposed to "yes please", but just like last night, it was as if that switch in Adam's brain had been turned on again after being tamped down.
And Kris, being Kris, was making it so easy. California might not be New York, but it was still cold outside in mid-December; not cold enough, though, to stop the American Idol from opening the shirt under his jacket two buttons too many, revealing a strip of miraculously tanned and damn lickable skin. Kris was also doing that thing where he tossed his head back in laughter, showing off that long, smooth neck, his Adam's apple-which Adam felt irrationally possessive about; it was his name, so sue him-bobbing up and down, just like it did when Kris threw himself completely into singing onstage. And then there was the way Kris smacked his lips every time he made a self-deprecating joke, like Adam wasn't already perfectly aware that they were there, thank you very much, or the way that Kris's gaze would occasionally fall on Adam, eyes dark and sly and crinkling at the corners, and it was so, so easy to read meanings and signals that weren't really there.
Coffee turned into an early lunch at a small Italian place down the block from the studio, where they were joined by Tommy, who'd passed by on his way in. By the time Kris was licking, nay, ravaging his spoon of the last of the chocolate syrup-because of course Kris Allen and his supernatural metabolism could afford to have dessert after lunch-Adam was both fighting the urge to stare at his mouth, and fighting the urge to read something into the fact that Kris was maybe-almost-but-probably-not checking out Adam's reaction from behind half-lidded eyes. When Kris excused himself to go to the bathroom, Adam scooted closer to Tommy. "Have you noticed Kris acting weird today?"
Tommy shrugged, picking a slice of tomato off of Adam's plate. "Not any differently than any other time I've met him."
Adam sat back, relaxing a little. Tommy had good instincts about people.
When Kris came back out, he was holding a popsicle-which made so much sense in this weather-in one hand, and slipping his phone into his pocket with the other. "Apparently I have a couple hours free," Kris said. "I don't have to be at NBC till three. You guys have any plans?" He sucked the tip of the popsicle casually, dyeing his lips and tongue a strong strawberry pink. Adam forced himself not to groan out loud.
"Rehearsal," he managed. Tommy lifted a pale, amused eyebrow in Adam's direction. Adam patently ignored him. "You know you're welcome to join us."
"Maybe you can learn and give your guitarist tips on how to move a little," Tommy added, smirking. The idea that Tommy paid enough attention to remember Kris's guitarist-who, Adam sadly concurred, tended to play his guitar as if he were an ornamental block of wood-made Adam unexpectedly pleased.
"Andrew?" Kris sighed. "Yeah, we're working on it."
Rehearsal went well.
Okay, no, rehearsal went fucking fantastic. They were finally working on new stuff; Adam loved Whataya Want From Me, he really did, but he was itching to finally sing songs with an actual dance beat on New Year's Eve. The band was getting really comfortable, backup voices and music consolidating with practice into something whole, and Adam was letting loose with the vocals. He couldn't deny that Kris's presence was affecting his performance; it was fun to have an audience he could put on a show for, and it was especially fun to have that audience be Kris, whose grin was almost challenging. Come on, it seemed to say, just try to shock me. Adam raised his voice to outrageous falsettos just because he could, Kris's forte more than his own but Adam could go fucking high when he wanted to, grinning widely when Kris raised his arms in surrender. He danced and gyrated, letting himself drown in the music and lyrics.
"I wanna see you, touch you one on one," he sang at Tommy, dragging a hand down his back, and Tommy smirked and moved with him because Adam had the best band ever. The beat of the chorus pounded through him, bass traveling from his feet to his chest, loud and sexy; he focused his attention on the audience. "Your skin is burning at the sight of me-" Kris's eyes widened imperceptibly-"Your mask can't hide what you're thinking. Don't ask-" he swerved to Tommy, breathing into his ear-"Don't tell," and Tommy shivered and turned and ground his ass against Adam, and that was it, the rest of the song, him Tommy and the music, wild and playful and hot.
When the song was done he let out an exhilarated whoop, clapping his hands a few times because his guys fucking rocked. "You could pay me some attention too, you know," Lisa said wryly, and Tommy ran a hand through his hair, smirking, "Jealous?", and Monte suggested, "Maybe you should save the part where you're draped all over one another for the bridge," so it took a couple of moments for Adam to get down from his high and realize that Kris was still sitting in the room, wearing a deep scowl on his face.
He frowned. "Kris?"
"Yeah." Kris's voice held faint edges of tension, which, for Kris Allen, was saying a lot. "It was good."
Adam raised his eyebrows. "The vocals or the show?"
"Um, both," he said. "You could, uh, pay Lisa more attention like she said, but it was great, man." Kris stood up. "I should go." He strapped his bag over his shoulder, flatly skimming all their faces, lingering on Tommy, and then he turned back to Adam abruptly. "Hey, you wanna come with?"
"I'm-working," Adam said, bewildered.
"Well, if you want, I mean." Kris shrugged, suddenly looking a little sheepish. "It's Jimmy Fallon. Robert Pattinson's gonna be on, no one'll notice you. It's supposed to be fun."
Adam shouldn't, it would be totally unprofessional, but-Kris was making that puppy dog face that he probably didn't even realize he made, plus with these mood swings Adam was still a little bit worried that Merlin had somehow given him some kind of brain damage. And it had honestly been fun hanging out together all day long. Adam didn't know when they'd get the chance to do it again. Damn it, he used to be spontaneous.
The struggle must have shown on his face, because the next thing he heard was Tommy saying, "Go. We could use some more practice on the set list without you anyway."
Tommy was either being a sweetheart or messing with him somehow, and Adam wasn't sure which. "You sure?"
"Scoot." Tommy made a little shooing motion with his guitar. "We have no use here for people who don't play instruments." Longineu played a rimshot, Tommy flipped him the finger, and next thing Kris and Adam were walking down to Adam's car, because it made more sense to share and Kris drove like an old lady on diazepam.
It had been a long time since Adam had come to see someone perform strictly in a cheerleading capacity. He considered lowering his shades and pulling up his scarf because he'd hate to steal any attention away from Kris at his own show; but Adam's hair was done up high and spiky and awesome, and he was not about to flatten it for anonymity's sake. Adam had his limits.
Still, he managed to stay fairly inconspicuous, using the back entrance to the lot and slinking into the studio with Kris. Kris's mood seemed to lift again when he saw his band; there was a cheerful round of bro-hugs and manly slaps on the back. And Kris was totally back to himself during sound check, bouncing and wiggling around on stage like he was singing in the shower and no one else was watching. Except that if Kris were singing in the shower he wouldn't be wearing those excruciatingly tight jeans or that lumberjack stripper half-buttoned shirt, and would in fact be-
Adam resolutely cut off the train of thought, because he was so not going there. Not again. Instead, he focused on Kris's voice; "Chestnuts roasting," Kris sang, eyes closed, jazzy and smooth. It was a perfect Kris Allen arrangement, and Adam smiled, standing off to the side of the stage. You could be the biggest Grinch in the world and hearing Kris's performance would still make you feel warm and fuzzy and homey, like someone was enveloping you in a big cozy hug from behind, snuggling in front of a fireplace. Adam closed his eyes as well, letting Kris's voice and soft guitars roll over him.
When he opened his eyes, Kris was looking at him. Still singing, just-singing at Adam. Singing at Adam and doing that thing to his microphone, which was completely unfair, because Adam had been trying to get over this all day, and fuck it, he couldn't even decide whether he was more delighted that Kris was fellating his microphone singing Christmas carols, or annoyed that he was doing it while staring so intensely at Adam. Not unlike the way he might stare at, say, a Chick-Fil-A chargrilled club sandwich. That he wanted to fuck.
Adam felt his heart start to race. While despoiling microphones was definitely within the spectrum of normal Kris Allen behavior, actually winking as he sang, "Make the yuletide gay" was very possibly not.
Adam took out his phone and dialed Tommy. "So this morning you told me Kris wasn't acting weird."
"I told you he was acting the same as always."
"I think he was trying to flirt," Adam hissed.
Tommy started to laugh. "Honey, flirting is Kris's default setting when he's around you."
Kris was still looking at Adam with that mischievous glint in his eye. "Okay, but Kris flirts with everyone."
"Look, I don't know the guy that well, but from what I've seen of him? It's just you." Tommy paused. "And sometimes that MTV guy."
"Christ, I hate you." Adam hung up on Tommy cracking up in the background.
Merlin wasn't picking up the phone, because apparently genies came with extremely crappy customer service and without twenty-four hour tech support. It was so awesome having a genie who spent all day napping in his bottle after enchanting Adam's best friend to fall in love with him. Really. Adam tried not to be bitter, but this was not the way Christina's song had made genies out to be.
Really, the best thing Adam could do right now was to get as far away from Kris as he could, get home, and un-wish the whole thing.
Unfortunately, he bumped into Jay Leno on his way out of the studio, and Jay was thrilled to see him because they were just filming a short segment about mistletoe and would he-? And before Adam could politely decline because hello, love spell, Jay said, "Of course, if you want to check in with your publicist-", and fuck that.
And so it was that he was slowly leaning in to kiss Jay Leno's correspondent under a dangling branch of mistletoe when Kris rounded the corner and stopped in his tracks.
"All right, that's it," Kris said darkly, marching up to Adam and grabbing his hand. The cameraman cut away, and the correspondent managed to put in a "Thanks, man," before Adam was being dragged away down the corridor and past a few startled interns, and then around the corner into a storage closet with the door shutting closed behind them, and the next thing Adam felt was his back slamming into the wall with a thud.
Kris closed in on him like prey, one palm splayed flat on Adam's chest and the other against the wall by Adam's head. "So here's the thing-" he said, and crushed his lips against Adam's.
Kris was kissing him, hot and rough and possessive, his hand curling in the fabric of Adam's shirt and pulling him closer. It was like getting the breath knocked out of him and taking a deep breath at once; Adam closed his eyes and parted his lips, his body following motions that had played out in his mind so many times before, but overloaded with the senses of here and now: Kris's scent and his taste and the sounds he was making, the strength with which he gripped Adam, the way he shivered when Adam licked inside his mouth-
"Fuck," Adam said, tearing himself away from Kris.
"Mmm, if you insist," Kris murmured, apparently taking this as an invitation to lean forward and kiss Adam again.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, Adam thought, turning his head so that Kris would miss his mark, which only made Kris decide to focus on Adam's neck instead. "We can't do this."
"I don't know, man," Kris said, licking a strip beneath Adam's jaw, fuck, and then he rolled his hips forward and-oh-Adam could feel just how into this he was. "I'm feeling up for it."
"Oh, God," Adam said, "even now you're making the dorkiest jokes ever." It was so hard to keep his head clear with Kris infiltrating his nostrils like a drug, musky and still sweaty from the show; with Kris literally breathing down his neck, his mouth grazing Adam's shoulders.
"Oh, I can keep my mouth shut." Adam felt Kris's lips curve into a smile, starting to move downwards. "If you want." Adam laughed a little desperately because dear god on earth could he think of things that would occupy Kris's mouth, like the ten different images attacking him at once-"No," he said frantically, pushing Kris away.
Kris shifted his weight back to his heels, his body still leaning towards Adam, hands on Adam's chest. "Why not?"
"Because none of this is real. Christ." Adam closed his eyes and swallowed. "Just go home and sleep it off and tomorrow we'll pretend none of this ever happened."
"Adam," Kris said, and then more firmly so Adam would look at him, "Adam. It's me."
Adam's heart hurt as he looked at Kris's expression, so deceptively honest. "It's not."
"Are you having, like, an existential crisis here?" Kris's fingers were drawing small patterns on Adam's chest. It felt so good, warm and comfortable; just half a step more intimate than he would usually touch Adam, but that separation might as well have been a canyon. "Cause like, this isn't totally out of the blue. I thought we were kinda on the same page here."
"What about Katy?" Adam said helplessly.
"This is about us, not Katy," Kris said, still trailing with his fingers, and Adam grabbed his wrists to stop him because that was over the fucking line, but Kris continued earnestly, "No, look, she understands. We even experimented with some stuff last night-"
"Stop."
It would be so easy to just say yes, to listen to Kris's excuses and accept them at face value. To let Kris kiss him and blow him and then fuck Kris against the wall, or maybe on a couch-there should be props around here somewhere-and later in his car, and in his bed, and in the shower, and-
And just because Adam was going through a dry spell the size of forever, and just because he was still, God, not over Kris Allen, did not mean that he should ruin his friendship with Kris and ruin Kris's marriage in one stupid move.
Having ethics fucking sucked.
Kris was looking up at him, wide blinking brown eyes. Adam lowered Kris's hands gently. "You're not gonna believe me right now, but this is all just a big mistake, okay? You're not really feeling this. It was a…" Adam took a breath, figuring what the hell, he was already screwed anyhow. "It was a spell. My fault. It'll be okay tomorrow, okay?"
"Riiiight," Kris said. "Look, if you feel so strongly about it that you're all-" Kris waved his hand around, presumably indicating Adam's deteriorating mental faculties- "then okay, hands off for now. But this isn't over."
Adam couldn't help the smile that crept up onto his face. "Is that a warning?"
"I'm small and sneaky. You won't expect me."
"You mean like sneak seduction?" Adam said. "I'll watch out for that."
"I'm serious," Kris said, finally taking a step back, heading backwards towards the door. "I'm like that ninja cat on youtube."
"Go do your show," Adam ordered.
Adam didn't wait a full minute after Kris left to follow him out to the hall and head in the opposite direction. Adam was well due for a freak out, but he wasn't going to do it in the closet.
"Look, you were the one who made the wish!"
"Accidentally," Adam repeated. "And oh my God, what were you doing here all day? How long can you sleep?"
Merlin looked affronted. "I was-what's the word. With the flying ships and the time change."
Adam stopped for a moment. "Jet-lagged?"
"Yes!" Merlin crossed his arms. "It's not like I enjoy being cooped up in a bottle, you know. It comes with the trade."
"Whatever. I'm going to make my second wish now." Adam walked towards his liquor cabinet, but changed his mind halfway there. He should probably be sober this time around.
"Whenever you're ready," Merlin said, and sighed wistfully. "I still think it was a nice wish."
Adam gave him a disbelieving look. "Having someone throw themselves at you only because they were programmed to by magic? Yeah. It's awesome." He laughed bitterly. "I don't even know if we could ever really work, and… this wasn't real. It wasn't natural."
"Is that what you'd like?" Merlin asked closely. "To know whether you and Kris could ever be together?"
Adam considered it for a moment. "Well, sure, but-wait, shit, no!" he yelled, too late; Merlin's eyes were already flashing yellow. "Merlin!"
"You know, you're really starting to sound like someone I know when you use that tone of voice," Merlin said reproachfully. Adam stared. "It's not very becoming for either of you."
"I-" Adam said, and then just gave up, turned on his heels, and slammed the door to the bedroom behind him. He couldn't even guess what Merlin had done, but he would deal with it in the morning, when he could think clearly and carefully about how to make this all go away without making any more stupid wishes.
He watched Conan from bed. Kris kicked ass onstage, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted, and feet looking like they were each trying to climb the other the way he was squirming and kicking them around; but when he sang so if your life flashed before you, what would you wish you would have done, he stared directly into the camera, and Adam could still feel his taste on his lips.
Adam clicked off the TV, rolled over, and went to sleep.
Part 2/2