Fic: Ready Now (If You Can Wait a Little More) 1/6

[samanthahirr]

Title: Ready Now (If You Can Wait a Little More)
Fandom: American Idol (Adam/Kris)
Word Count: 44,500 [complete]
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: No infringement on the rights of real people intended. Not profiting in any way.

Summary: Just as Kris gets up the courage to tell Adam how he feels about him, Adam mysteriously disappears from a bad neighborhood. Finding himself involved in a high-stakes investigation, Kris faces off with their record label, the FBI, and the demons of his and Adam's complicated past to uncover who, if anyone, could have taken Adam.

Notes: Endless thanks to my beta-and-cheerleader cinaea for her invaluable, continuous support. Title courtesy of Train's Lincoln Avenue.



Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI

It started during Top 8 week.

The contestants were chilling out in the living room, listening to Allison gossip about the recording contract her parents had made her turn down after winning that Telemundo talent show when she was 15. Kris was only half-paying attention, eyes focused on Adam's feet propped up on the coffee table in front of them, a black-painted toe poking out the top of the torn sock. He could smell Adam next to him, the cologne and hairspray that scented their shared bathroom and was determinedly infiltrating Kris's closet.

He was half-listening to Allison and half-keeping track of these little details when Adam reached past Kris to grab a blanket off the other side of the couch.

Adam's face was suddenly right there, his lips right there, just a breath away from his own. Kris went nearly cross-eyed staring at the freckles on his mouth, the pink tongue bit between Adam's teeth as he grimaced and tugged the fleece blanket from under Kris's shoulder. And for a few, heart-stopping seconds, Kris's whole body flushed at the memories of Adam's crazy stories, the sexual escapades that sounded preposterous, ridiculous, but that Kris couldn't help believing anyway.

And then Adam pulled back, blanket in hand, completely oblivious to the way Kris was still frozen and-somehow, impossibly-disappointed.

December 26, 2010

Sunday

Adam could find a party. Any time. Anywhere. It was his self-professed superpower. Kris and the others had doubted the boasts during their months in the mansion, but once the Idols Live Tour got on the road they witnessed the impossible firsthand: Adam finding them an underground dance battle in Reading, Pennsylvania; a rave in Tacoma, Washington; even a gay bar in North Little Rock, Arkansas. Kris had spent most of his life not 30 miles from there and he'd had no clue there was a gay community in Little Rock. How the hell could Adam have known about it?

So when Anoop had spammed everybody looking for a low-key night out during the holidays in Los Angeles, Adam had answered the challenge by throwing Anoop a belated birthday party. He dubbed it the Anti-L.A. Birthday Party; no paparazzi, no fans, and no videos on YouTube. It should have been impossible with someone as famous as Adam involved…but that's where Adam's superpower kicked in.

"Wow," Cale said as they cruised past what should have been The Mojito Café at 5 mph. "That is not what I was expecting."

Kris kept looking from the address in his iPhone's e-mail, to Cale's GPS monitor, to the street number on a one-story stand-alone cement building with boarded up windows and a half-burned-out neon sign blinking "OP" in the glass door.

"Seriously," Cale continued as he took a slow right-on-red onto South Inglewood Avenue, "I'm supposed to park in this neighborhood? Adam's never been to Lennox, has he?"

"Like anyone's gonna steal a 2002 Nissan," Kris rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the bad vibes he was getting from the badly-lit streets, the low, crowded buildings with curved Spanish shingles, and filthy sidewalks. "Just park already."

Cale pulled up along a meter-less stretch of curb and yanked the GPS plastic mount off the glass.

"What are you-"

"I'm putting this in the trunk. You're putting your suitcase in there, too." He licked his thumb and smudged at the telltale circle the suction cup left behind.

Kris's shoulders ached from the three flights to get from Little Rock to LAX. But he wasn't about to argue with common sense. When Cale popped the trunk, Kris dragged his rolling suitcase out of the backseat, grunted and heaved, and landed it in the trunk. It was at least 15 pounds heavier than when he'd left L.A., weighted down now with presents and linens for his new apartment.

"Is this Anoop's scene?" Cale asked as they walked quickly past graffitied stucco walls and turned the corner onto Lennox Boulevard. "The way he acted on Idol, I thought he was all letterman prep."

Kris shook his head and buried his hands in his jacket pockets. December in Los Angeles wasn't cold, exactly, but the breeze and the neighborhood left him chilled. "I don't know whose scene this is." It wasn't Adam's, that was for sure. If these were the lengths Adam had to go just to dodge the paparazzi, things had gotten even worse in the last two weeks.

Cale stopped in front of the door to the restaurant and gestured with both hands, uncharacteristically polite. "After you."

"You scared?" Kris teased.

Cale puffed his chest out and growled, "No. Just the 'plus one.' You're the one he invited."

"Coward," Kris smiled and nudged Cale out of the way to grab the handle.

The door swung open on surprisingly well-greased hinges, and warm, aromatic air wafted out, along with the tinny strains of bachata guitar. Kris ducked under the fake-palm trees crowding the door and found a long room of small wooden tables and chairs, a few families sitting and eating near the door, and a loud group in the back corner. And a familiar figure standing at the small bar on the right.

Kris grinned and forgot about the sketchy neighborhood, the bad layover in Houston, the awkwardness of his first Christmas without Katy. He tackled Adam from behind, dodged a flailing arm when the taller man yelped and spun around to see who was wrapped around his waist.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Adam demanded, squeezing him back in a big hug. Arms wound around Kris's shoulders, pulling Kris's face in to press against necklaces and skin.

In Adam's too-tight grip, Kris felt himself relaxing for the first time in days. He breathed deep, smelling the cologne Adam had worn for the last two years, the scent that always reminded Kris of hugs after he came off stage on Idol and the tour, Kris thrumming with adrenaline, jittery in his own skin. Adam's body was lean and strong, and Kris couldn't help closing his eyes and sneaking a few seconds to enjoy the physicality of it, the press of Adam's thighs against his, big hands fisting in his jacket over his shoulder blades. Until the urge to open his mouth and taste Adam's skin again became an overwhelming pounding in his blood and Kris forced himself to pull his head away, to lean back against Adam's arms until his friend let go.

"I can't even believe it. You're not supposed to be back 'til Wednesday, what the hell?" Adam repeated, beaming down at him with purple-lined eyes, his hands kneading Kris's shoulders like he needed tangible proof Kris was real.

"Um," Kris said, racing pulse making him uncharacteristically flustered under Adam's intensity. "Long story?"

"Like that's ever stopped you. Or me."

"I told him he'd get bored," Cale drawled.

Adam finally tore his eyes away from Kris's face and noticed the guitarist. "Hey! Cale, right?"

"Good guess," Cale smiled, sticking out a hand.

Adam tugged Kris to his left side so he could keep an arm around his waist while he shook Cale's hand. "Please. I totally met you at the Miami Tailgate. You thought I wouldn't remember."

Cale looked surprised and more than a little embarrassed. "That was over a year ago."

"What kind of Kris Allen fan would I be if I didn't stalk his band mates, too?"

"The non-scary kind," Kris offered. His body leaned unconsciously into Adam's grip, keeping them pressed together.

Cale quickly changed the subject, glancing around at the wooden walls and tacky, twinkling pink and green lights stapled to the ceiling. "So. This is the best the legendary party-planner could come up with? I mean, Christmas weekend, your options were limited; I'll give you that. But Lennox?"

Adam's smile got impossibly brighter. "Oh, the party hasn't started yet. You're gonna eat your words by midnight, I promise. Now come on, Anoop's in the back, and the kitchen closes in 45 minutes."

They helped Adam collect the row of drinks lined up on the bar and let him lead the way, weaving through the roomful of tiny tables toward the group in the back corner. Kris recognized Anoop's hair and popped, pink collar, and, across the table from him…was that Matt's hat….

"Hey, Noop-Dog, look who I found!" Adam called as they got close.

The group looked up: Anoop, Matt, and some girl and guy Kris didn't know. Anoop craned his head to see and then stood up so fast he wobbled the beers on his table. "Kris! Holy crap, I thought you were still regressing with your redneck peeps!"

"Hey, man," Kris set down his drinks and grabbed Anoop's hand, met him in a chest bump. "Happy belated. And Matt, man-"

Matt smiled and tipped his fedora, then reached over the pushed-together tables and slapped Kris's hand. "Arkansas, good to see you!"

"Yeah," Kris agreed, his throat going tight around a nostalgic lump. Anoop was still based in Atlanta, and Matt was back in Michigan, but even still; how had it been eight months since he'd seen either of them? New Year's resolution number two would be reprioritizing his schedule to see his friends more often. He glanced at the other two members of the party and then at Adam, who straightened his shoulders and made a grand gesture.

"As your host for this evening, please allow me to make the humiliating introductions." He raised up one of the fresh beer bottles and pointed with it. "On Anoop's right we have William-Will-Anoop's classmate from UNC, who moved out here last year to suck the dick of Hollywood-"

"Oh for fuck's!" Will protested, flushing bright red. "I said teat! Suckle the teat of Hollywood!"

Anoop threw his head back and cackled, "Didn't I tell you he's a trip, man!" He grabbed the beer from Adam and passed it to his friend, then claimed another two bottles for himself.

"Uh uh, language," Adam admonished, indicating the three little kids sitting forty feet away.

"Sorry," Will muttered.

Adam grinned and continued, holding out a vodka tonic to the thin blonde wearing even more eye makeup than him, "On Matt's arm is the beautiful Beth, a flight attendant for Delta Airlines. Originally from Oklahoma, Beth & Matt hooked up two weeks ago on a flight from Detroit to New York. Literally. Odds on how many times they've hit the Mile High Club since then? Anyone?"

Matt accepted his girlfriend's drink and shook his head, "You're leaving out the most important part."

"Oh forgive me. The most important part," Adam held up a warning finger. "If any of you straight men hits on Beth, Matt will kick your ass." He passed another beer over to Matt.

Matt nodded and Beth giggled, cuddling close and ducking her eyes modestly. Kris didn't really buy it, but the perennially-down look was missing from Matt's eyes.

"And finally, attempting to hide behind the diminutive form of our very own Pocket Idol," Adam leveled his finger at Cale, who stepped around Kris and stuck his jaw out in challenge. "Here we have Mr. Cale Mills, Kris's childhood friend and band mate. And um…" Adam frowned at him as though trying to remember. "Broke his arm the summer after 5th grade when he rolled down a hill in an old tire-how adorably cliché is that?-likes sitcoms but hates network television, drinks light beer, and thinks Ultimate Frisbee is a real sport."

Cale stared at Adam, and so did Kris. All that from just one meeting in Florida? …and from listening to Kris talk about his friends for the last two years, he realized.

Adam sipped his own drink-Bacardi and Diet Coke, if Kris remembered right-and looked around. "How'd I do? Everybody suitably brought down to earth? Cause I can go another round if you all-"

"You've done enough," Anoop cut him off with a desperate laugh, tugging Adam down into the seat next to him.

Adam sat, but he pushed his chair back from the table and beckoned for Kris and Cale to drag over another table.

"Menus, here you go." Adam slid two onto their table once they'd gotten settled.

"You've gotta finish, man: how'd you get the snake through customs?" Will asked Adam, picking up a conversation that had been interrupted.

"Lemme guess-you hid it in your pants," Anoop said.

Matt and Beth were giggling into each other's ears, one of Matt's hands conspicuously invisible below the table.

"What kind of food is this?" Kris asked, flipping the two-sided sheet over. It was in Spanish, but he didn't see burritos or tacos anywhere.

"Cuban," Adam said.

"Cuban? Is that like…Mexican?"

"Dude, the croquetas!" Will said, leaning past Anoop. "To die for. Totally."

"So that's a 'no.' I don't even…" Kris said, looking first to Cale, then to Adam for help.

Adam took the menu out of his hands. "I'll order for you. You'll love it, trust me."

"Mas-i-tas de pu-er-co fri-tas…" Cale drawled dubiously, squinting at the laminated page he held at arms length.

"Oh my god," Adam laughed. "I'll order for you, too. Just tell me what you like."

"I'll be good with whatever Kris gets," Cale shrugged, passing over his menu.

Adam shot Cale a measuring look and then shrugged and said, "Cool, got just the thing. Still light beer though, right?"

"Yeah."

Adam stood up and headed for the bar to order, and Kris's right side felt inexplicably colder.

"So?" Anoop said, leaning a hand on Adam's empty seat to get closer to Kris once Adam was a discreet distance away, "Have you made your move yet?"

"What?"

"On Adam. The move. You know." Anoop waggled his eyebrows and Kris felt a guilty flush start to creep up his neck.

"I don't know what you mean," he lied.

"What are you talking about?" Will asked.

Matt put down his beer and smacked his lips before explaining, "Kris's had a hard on for Adam for the past two years."

"No, I haven't!"

"Aren't you married?" Will asked.

"Dude," Anoop turned on his friend and slapped his arm. "Not cool."

"Divorced. Since October," Kris admitted.

"Oh, damn. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be a dick. I don't really keep up with you guys. I watched the show 'cause Anoop was on, and since then, like, blinders." Will held his hands up to demonstrate.

"It's cool; Katy and I are still friends."

Matt snorted.

"Oh come on," Kris protested. "Why does nobody believe it when we say that? We are."

"The kind of friends who pay alimony and split the assets 50/50?" Beth asked, feigning curiosity while Matt played with the skin under her ear.

"The kind who still talk on the phone every other day," Cale said firmly, backing Kris. "You should hear him on the bus. He talks to Katy about his crush on Adam."

"Oh my God," Kris groaned, sinking lower in his chair. He should make them stop talking like this. He should tell them they were wrong. But they all seemed to know, and he hadn't gotten divorced just to keep lying to everybody-including himself-about his feelings for Adam.

Will said quietly, like he'd only meant for Anoop to hear, "Wait, he's gay?"

Anoop shrugged, "That's for Kris to decide."

"But Adam's kind of…flamboyant."

"Adam's awesome," Matt said firmly, giving Will a hard look. "And he and Kris've been a couple since the very beginning. They don't even have to fight over sides of the bed."

The embarrassed smile on Kris's face was starting to hurt. It sucked to be reminded of his behavior early on. The flirting had always been so innocent, at least that's what he'd thought at the time.

"They are so that couple," Cale agreed, leaning on his elbow like he was bored. "Put the two of them in a room together and they'll completely ignore everyone else."

"Can we please not talk about this?" Kris begged.

"Dude, what are you waiting for?" Anoop pressed. "You're in L.A. now. Adam's in L.A. You're single, he's…wait, is he single?" Anoop looked around the three small tables for an answer. "Somebody Google that shit."

"Kris knows," Matt suggested.

"Not really." Kris shook his head, aware his cheeks were glowing. How was it possible he was having this conversation in public, with Anoop and Matt and Cale and two complete strangers, when he hadn't even gotten up the courage to talk to Adam yet? Kris finally gave up and allowed himself to be honest with his friends. "I've tried to get him to talk about who he's dating, since October, but he just…says he's too busy, what with the tour and then the New Year's Eve show. Which isn't really an answer, so."

"Oh yeah. I totally need a ticket to that gig," Matt said, distracted from the point Kris was trying to make.

Anoop snorted. "Good luck. Those were fan-club only, and they sold out in, like, July."

"For reals? That's so unfair."

"He can probably get you in backstage," Kris offered, encouraging the new topic. "I mean, I don't have a ticket, but I'm practically required to go." He bounced his heel off the rung of his chair, making his and Cale's table rock back and forth under his elbows.

"If he's getting you in, he has to get all of us in," Anoop decided.

"Hey, where are you for New Year's?" Matt asked his girlfriend.

"I'm on the East Coast," she pouted prettily. "But it sounds like fun."

"Are you a fan?" asked Will, surprised.

"No, but Adam's fun. So his show would be fun, right?"

"You have no idea," Anoop grinned, and a brief moment of silence swept the table as the three Idols smiled at Tour memories from the previous summer.

"So wait," Kris said, finally asking the question that had been on his mind for the last 10 minutes, "why are we here? This doesn't seem like Adam's kind of place."

"He said he knows the DJ," Anoop shrugged.

"The food was really good," Will added, but Kris ignored him.

"From where?"

"One of Cass's runway shows," Adam answered, setting two beer bottles down in front of Kris and Cale before sitting in the chair next to Kris.

Kris picked up his beer and looked straight up at the small round speakers embedded in the popcorn ceiling, playing another nondescript bachata tune. "What DJ?"

"He hasn't started yet," Adam said blithely and flicked the glass bottle in Kris's hand. "Bottoms up. You're two rounds behind."

Cale picked up his own bottle and nudged Kris's ankle under the table, so Kris did as bidden, taking a few long swallows while the conversation settled on shop talk.

Despite selling 400,000 copies of My Name, the first single off his debut EP, Anoop was still tied to the same Atlanta label for the distribution of his upcoming full-length, and Anoop suspected they were skimping on the promotional plans. "Truth," Anoop announced as Kris was finishing his first beer, "I asked for a party so I could pick your brain." He was talking to Adam.

Of course he was. For Your Entertainment had gone double platinum, he'd sold out his first solo tour, and he was nominated for a Grammy; Adam was the real winner from their season. When Kris got up to get another beer, Cale gave him a sympathetic look that Kris pretended he didn't see. Nobody believed him when he said he wasn't jealous of Adam's success, just like they doubted him about staying friends with Katy. He'd gotten used to ignoring the haters somewhere in the last thousand interviews.

"But they bend over backward for you all the time," Anoop was saying when he got back.

Adam tipped his glass back and took a long moment to answer. All eyes were on him when he said, "That's 'cause they know a good thing. They don't have to do me any favors; my contract probably looks a lot like yours. 19E's just smart enough to know what they've got. Yours-they're fucking idiots if they don't wanna promote you."

"I think what Anoop's really angling for is an opening slot on your next tour," Will suggested, arm preemptively raised to block Anoop's retaliation.

Adam made an apologetic face. "Allison's still got me sewn up for the next three tours. Never try telling that girl 'no.' She'll go all Glenn Close on you and kill your bunnies."

"Matt's album's coming out in February," Beth said.

"Shit, really?" Anoop said.

Matt ducked his head just enough to hide his eyes under the brim of his hat. "Yeah."

"Dude, that's awesome! Why didn't you say you were recording?"

"It's not like we've really kept in touch all that much," Matt said.

"Come on, I've read everything you've ever posted and you never once mentioned recording."

"Facebook stalking doesn't count as keeping in touch," Matt scowled at Anoop. "And following someone's Twitter doesn't mean you're still friends." The mood at the table suddenly took a dive as Matt reverted to his moody headspace.

"And that's what tonight is all about," Adam interrupted gracefully, "hanging out so we can actually talk. So dish; is it your own stuff or did you buy anyone's?"

Kris took a long swallow and watched how easily Matt responded to Adam, marveled at the way Adam set the whole table at ease. And then Adam wiped at the corner of his eye, rubbing away fallen mascara, and Kris noticed the beads of sweat up along his hairline. An inappropriate memory of Adam sweaty and flushed, gasping his name, flashed before his eyes in vivid color, and Kris suddenly felt the heat of the room.

Cale was giving him a knowing look when Kris jerked his gaze away from Adam.

The food arrived on two platter-sized plates bearing chicken smothered in a lumpy red sauce flowing into piles of yellow rice and black beans. It smelled like garlic and tomato and something Kris couldn't put his finger on, but it was mouth-watering. A smaller plate of plantains landed in the middle of the tables for everyone else.

"This looks amazing," Kris said and dug in. The chicken tore apart like pulled pork, dripping thick, steaming sauce as he lifted the fork to his lips.

Adam's eyes were glued to Kris's mouth as he took his first bite.

"Mmph," Kris moaned, setting the fork down and savoring the rich flavors. He licked his lips, finding another explosion of sour-sweet sauce that had dribbled toward his chin.

"Great, now I know what Kris's orgasm face looks like," Matt muttered.

"Hey!" Adam protested. "That should be my line."

Matt snickered.

"You're welcome," Kris grinned. He discovered a small potato in the sauce and scooped it up with some of the rice. "Now let me have my orgasm in peace."

"Told you you'd love it. Do I know that tongue of yours or what?" Adam asked loudly, a twinkle in his eye.

Kris almost choked, but everybody else cracked up.

"How 'bout you, Cale?"

Kris looked up from his dinner and noticed Cale scraping at the sauce, trying to shove it to one side of the huge plate.

"It's okay, I just…don't really like olives."

"Oh man, I'm sorry," Kris apologized.

"I thought you liked…" Adam said, his smile fading.

"Usually, yeah. But Kris never gets 'em, so it was never a thing."

"Kris loves olives," Adam said, looking confused. He looked to Kris for confirmation and Kris gulped down a mouthful of beer and nodded.

"Adam, you're getting us into the New Year's Eve show, right?" Anoop interrupted, apparently being egged on by Will.

Adam turned away, and Kris looked at Cale's plate, feeling guilty. "Sorry about that, man. D'you wanna get something else?"

"It's fine," Cale waved him off. "I'm a grown up, right? I can handle a few olives." Then he cleared his throat and leaned toward Kris's ear. "But dude. If you don't ask him out tonight, I'm totally gonna do it for you. 'He knows your tongue.' Jesus Christ, what are you waiting for?"

Kris's shoulders inched up defensively. "You wouldn't."

"Just watch me," Cale said, and grinned into his bottle.

Cale ended up eating most of the plantains, and Will and Anoop picked at Cale's chicken, rice, and beans. Adam kept watching Kris take bite after bite until Kris handed him a spoon and told him to help himself if he was that hungry.

Adam smiled and took a few polite bites, but quickly lost interest in the food and started gossiping about the secret language of flight stewards' ties with Beth.

And then there was a series of loud bangs and scraping noises and they all turned and stared as two busboys shoved a row of wooden tables up against the long wall, forcing the tops to run up on each other carelessly. All the other diners were gone.

"What's going on?" Anoop asked Adam.

"Your birthday party," he explained mysteriously.

Row after row of tables got pushed out of the way until it was just their corner left, but nobody asked them to move or told them the restaurant was closing.

Cale noticed the change in the music first and looked around. "Oh, there's the DJ."

There was a bass drum beating deep in Kris's gut that had nothing to do with the little speakers overhead. The volume was slowly inching up.

They all turned to follow Cale's gaze to the back of the restaurant, where a wicker screen had been folded to the side and now a table and two huge speakers were visible. A tattooed guy in a red wife-beater and leather pants was bent over a pair of turntables with a huge set of headphones cupped to one ear. The sound he was making was smooth, down-tempo salsa, with trumpets and bongos and that thumping bass.

"Dude, I love lounge!" Anoop gasped, shaking Adam's shoulder.

Adam leaned back with a satisfied smile. "Gentlemen-and lady-it is officially time for the hard liquor. Who's having shots?"

Mojito Café transformed completely over the next half hour. The lights dimmed, the music cranked up to a teeth-rattling volume, and locals streamed in. Their clothes looked cheap, but not in the way Adam and his WeHo friends paid a lot to look cheap. It was all tight t-shirts and even tighter jeans, short skirts and high heels, and everyone knew how to dance. None of them spared a second glance for their table.

After the third round of tequila-each of which Cale had declined-Adam grabbed Matt's hat and put it on, announced, "Now iz ze time on Sprokets vhen ve dance!" and headed out onto the wooden floor.

"What did he say?" Beth yelled over the music.

Anoop slid into Adam's abandoned chair. "So you and Adam, right?"

"What?" Kris jerked back.

"You're gonna hook up, right? I always assumed…."

"Assumed what?" It was driving him a little crazy, the way everybody was trying to throw them together. The pressure was making the night an emotional roller coaster he hadn't planned on riding for at least another week.

"Well, that you could actually do it. Make a go of it. I didn't want you to cheat on your wife or anything, none of us did, that's why we left it alone. But you're single now. So…you still wanna get with him, right?"

"Yeah, he does," Cale answered, throwing an arm over Kris's shoulder to talk to Anoop. "But he's putting it off. He said it's his New Year's resolution, so that means," he shrugged, "some time in the next 12 months he might get around to it."

"Bullshit," Anoop said.

"You're not supposed to-" Kris tried to interrupt his best friend.

Cale shoved Kris's head out of the way and overrode him. "It totally is. It's a question of balls at this point."

"Heh. Balls."

"Guts," Cale amended with a laugh, his beard scraping against the back of Kris's neck.

"Does he need more liquid courage?"

"No, he doesn't," Kris said loudly, elbowing the two of them to get them to back off and stop talking over him.

"And looking at that isn't enough to spark some action?" Anoop gestured over his shoulder and Kris saw Adam dancing with two heavy-set Hispanic girls, grinding between the two of them, his hands running over the hips of the one in front of him.

Kris's mouth went dry but he didn't answer the question.

Anoop stared him down for a long moment before snorting, "Whatever. I'm gonna cut in, get my groove on. You just sit there and think about what you're missing out on."

Kris shot Cale a warning look to prevent more meddling and twisted one of the dozen empty shot glasses on the table.

"Oh shit, how drunk is Anoop?" Matt suddenly shouted, surfacing from an argument with Will on the merits of sampled hooks.

Will glanced up and squawked, "Holy shit, dude," and Kris checked to see what Anoop was doing with the girls.

Anoop wasn't with the girls.

Anoop was, in fact, grinding with Adam, a hand on Adam's ass as he bounced with the beat, knees bent and looking totally into it. Adam had a loose arm around Anoop's waist and Kris could read his laugh in the way he held his head, shoulders curved inward.

"Is he insane?" Will demanded.

"What, nobody cares," Cale yelled over the music, pointing at the other patrons, none of whom were watching, or frowning, or taking photos. "Nobody knows who we are or would even give a fuck if they did."

Beth said something Kris couldn't hear and dragged Matt out of his chair, out onto the dance floor. They squeezed into a spot next to Anoop and Adam, and Beth grabbed the fedora off Adam's head, cocked it on her own. Matt licked a kiss onto her neck just as Adam dipped Anoop behind them, and Anoop squealed and laughed.

"I love this place," Will decided loudly from the far side of the tables. He started grooving in his chair as his eyes roamed the room.

"Kris," Cale said in his ear.

Kris ignored him and ducked his head again, determinedly not watching his friends dance.

"The idea here," Cale persisted, "is to get out there and defend your turf."

Duh, Kris hadn't missed Anoop's bait. And Cale was right, he was jealous. But not of the way Anoop was touching Adam; the dancing meant nothing to Anoop, nothing to Adam. It was the clean slate he envied. No matter what they all assumed, Adam's interest in Kris was actually a really big question mark. Especially since Kansas City.

So Kris kept his head down, kicking himself even as he let his doubts psych him out until Cale gave up and dropped the subject.

A few songs later, Adam threw himself, gasping, back into his chair. "That boy has lost his mind," he laughed, raising a bottle of water to his lips and tipping it straight back.

Kris's eyes drifted over to watch Adam swallow, and now even Kris's cock was getting impatient with his stalling. How hard would it be to ask him to dance? Anoop had just done it, and it didn't have to be anything more than a joke if Adam wasn't interested. Kris opened his mouth, praying the right words would come out, and then the music suddenly dropped down to a faint thumping.

A voice boomed through the speakers, "I'm gonna change it up for just a few seconds, 'cause we got a birthday boy in the house, and there's a special request for him. Let's see if you can handle this beat."

And Anoop's hit single started up and Kris's jaw dropped.

Anoop appeared out of the dancing crush to stand by the tables and point at Adam, shouting, "Oh my god, you fucking rock star!"

Adam laughed back, "You're the rock star, baby!"

Matt barreled off the dance floor, Beth on his heels, and ran smack into Anoop. "This is your song," he shouted in Anoop's face, shaking his shoulders, a huge, drunk smile smeared across his lips.

"I know!" Anoop yelled back. He grabbed Will out of his chair and the two of them broke out some old school Usher moves, singing along to the track.

Behind them, the crowd was dancing to Anoop's beats and honey-smooth voice, completely oblivious to the artist in the room. Kris couldn't believe they were allowed to have this kind of anonymity in Los Angeles. It was possibly the best birthday present any one of them could have asked for.

When it hit the bridge, Anoop arched his back, pointed at the ceiling, and called, "I wanna hear my name!" The entire table sang back, "Anoo-oop!" and he whooped and jumped on Will's back, forcing his friend to stumble out onto the dance floor with him.

When the song ended, Adam nudged Kris and said, "I'm gonna get some more water, you want?"

Kris nodded, but the second Adam was gone, Cale shoved Kris out of his chair and ordered, "Go!"

Kris looked from the table, to the dance floor, to Adam walking toward the front of the restaurant, where the lights were dimmer and the music was a little quieter. And he knew where he most wanted to be.

Kris slotted in next to Adam at the crowded bar, grateful for the way the mob gave him an excuse to press close, let the back of his wrist rub against the front of Adam's sweat-soaked t-shirt when Adam turned to smile down at him.

"Hey, you," Adam said and wrapped an arm around Kris's shoulders for a quick, happy hug. "Having a good time?"

"Yeah," he said emphatically. "What you did here is just-it's perfect. I can't believe I would've missed all this."

"Me, too." Adam set a bottle of water in front of Kris and looked at him closely, the smile still lingering on the corners of his mouth. "I got time for that long story now if you wanna talk…."

It wasn't what he wanted to talk about with Adam just then, but he was still too nervous about asking, about having to shout his feelings in a crowded club, so he took Adam up on his offer. "It was okay, for a while."

"What happened?"

"Things were mostly just…awkward for the first few days. Everybody was glad to see me-they always are-but it was like they were afraid to talk about Katy. Like she'd died or something. Any time marriage came up, or the pies Katy's mom used to bring to Christmas dinner, or how Katy had shown my cousins how to make popcorn-string garlands, everybody froze up and changed the subject really fast."

Adam nodded, a sympathetic frown on his face.

"Like they thought I would get upset. Because they don't get that we're really okay; that we made this decision together and we're still friends."

"I know," Adam nodded some more. "So it got to be too much after a while?"

Kris shook his head. "No, it was Christmas. When we agreed I could have Conway for Christmas, I didn't think about having all her people at our church. And when my family met her family at Service yesterday…"

Adam sucked a breath through his teeth. "Cat fights?"

"Southern Lady style," Kris agreed. "The coffee social was vicious. They were mean to Grace. She's nine!"

"Those bitches!"

"And afterward, that's all my family could talk about, like the O'Connell clan's behavior reflected on Katy, and that's why I must have divorced her…." The urge to tear his hair out was building again so Kris unscrewed his water and took a long sip. "So I booked the first flights I could get. I told them it wasn't them," he half-laughed.

"Sorry," Adam said. "I know how much you love Christmas."

Kris shook his head. "I still love Christmas, I'll just be spending it in L.A. next year."

"Hey, me too! Tell you what, I'll throw you an Anti-L.A. Christmas Party."

Half of Kris's mouth twitched into a smile. "I'll bring the SoCo and mistletoe."

"You've got yourself a date," Adam promised, tipping their water bottles together for a toast.

"About that," Kris blurted, and then shut his mouth, no clue where that sentence had wanted to go.

Adam's eyes narrowed. "About what? Dating?"

"Um."

"You just got divorced. There's no rush to get back into the dating scene. I mean, by next Christmas, yeah, you'd better be dating somebody, but nobody's putting any pressure on you."

And Kris laughed because Adam was so epically, staggeringly wrong.

Adam tilted his head and asked softly, so soft Kris could justify leaning in a little closer to hear him, "You're not already seeing somebody, are you?"

Kris took a deep breath, his chest pressing closer until he could feel Adam's pentagram pendant between them. "I'm trying," he admitted. "But it's…really hard."

"What does that mean?"

"You know that Katy asked me out, right?"

"Senior year," Adam confirmed, voice rumbling against and through Kris's body.

"And that she started describing her perfect wedding ring before I'd even thought to propose."

"Sure."

"She's…she's the only girl I've ever dated, and it was…. I never realized 'til recently how much I never took that risk. I already knew how she felt about me, so I wasn't putting myself out there, you know?"

Adam nodded slowly. "So you haven't asked her out yet?"

"Who?"

"The girl you wanna date."

And Kris could leave it at that, could nod and change the subject and wait until the timing felt better, procrastinate all the way until next New Year's. Or he could take that risk, cowboy up and be a man like everybody wanted him to be.

Like Kris wanted to be.

"Him," he corrected Adam.

"Hmm?"

"I haven't asked him out yet."

Kris caught the sharp inhalation and the way Adam's head jerked up, Adam's eyes seeming to cut toward their table-toward Cale, Kris guessed, confidence faltering. If Adam didn't know Kris was talking about him, still wanted him…. So he reached out before he could have second thoughts, put his hand on Adam's waist just above the line of his jeans.

Adam's gaze shot back down to his, eyes reflecting the pulsing yellow spotlights over the DJ table. "Hey," Adam said, the sound of the word lost in the voices around them, but the shape clearly legible.

"Hey," Kris said, swallowing past nervousness and leaving his hand in place.

"You wanna date a guy?"

"Yeah," Kris breathed, his eyes dropping to Adam's chin, his throat.

"That's a. That's a big step; from married to out."

"I think it could be worth it. If-if it works out."

"And what if it doesn't?"

Kris risked a glance up and caught Adam biting his lip, but there was a big hand inching closer along the bar, Adam's rings catching the light. Kris felt a small flare of victory. He brushed his thumb over Adam's t-shirt below his ribs and said, "We won't know 'til we try."

"I really-" Adam said and then stopped, going very still under his hand. "How drunk are you?"

Something in Adam's expression reminded Kris of Kansas City again and he frowned, said, "How drunk are you," and shoved against Adam's chest even though he didn't want him to go anywhere. The crowd at the little bar kept Adam pinned in place, pinned against him. "Adam, trust me. I know what I'm saying," he said, gentle but firm.

"Dear god, I hope so," Adam said, some of the tension leaving his body.

"Look at you, praying."

"Yeah," Adam said. "You're a terrible influence on me, Allen."

Adam's hand finally made it across the bar, ghosted over the hairs on Kris's forearm, sliding against the grain. Kris licked his lips and closed his eyes, felt the hand slide higher to frame his elbow, just the faintest suggestion of touch.

He made the next move, slid his hand lower to catch the hem of Adam's t-shirt, lifted it up a few inches to slide his palm onto hot, damp skin.

"Oh," Adam said somewhere near his temple.

"We could dance, if you wanted," Kris said, pressing closer, his lips just an inch from Adam's throat.

"We could," he agreed, shifting to slide a thigh between Kris's legs.

Kris choked on a breath and clutched Adam's waist for balance as that lean thigh rode up against him and Kris's back arched against whoever was standing behind him. Adam growled and dragged him even closer, hand firm on his lower back, coaxing Kris to lean against him.

"This isn't how you danced with Anoop," Kris managed to say, distracted by the sensory overload of the music, the lights, the crowd, the smells of sweat and garlic and cologne, and Adam searing every nerve-ending in his body with heat.

"No," Adam agreed, rolling their hips together with the beat, Kris's cock getting hard to match the bulge under Adam's tight jeans. "I don't think Anoop's ready for moves like this."

"I am," Kris promised, leaning up and brushing his lips against the edge of Adam's jaw.

Adam eased back a fraction and smiled just out of reach, his lips just a breath away. Kris could pull him down, could grab the back of his head, tug him down for a…

Somebody shoved through to the bar behind Adam, knocking them both off balance. Adam caught himself with one hand against the rail, but Kris had to turn and grab the woman behind him to stay upright. She knocked his hands away and yelled at him in rapid Spanish he couldn't hope to translate, and then Adam was pulling him away from the bar, toward the chill breeze of the door.

"God," Kris panted, his head buzzing from the sudden movement, tequila blurring his vision for a few seconds before he realized they were standing by the plastic palm trees.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, sure."

"There isn't a lot of privacy here," Adam said, pointing out the obvious.

Kris snorted, focused his eyes on the twenty inches separating them. Adam's hand was bridging the divide, holding onto the sleeve of Kris's t-shirt, but something had changed in Adam's body language; he was almost holding Kris away. Kris couldn't imagine what was wrong, and he wasn't sure how to close that distance, to get to where they'd just been.

"I think, uh. This isn't the place for this conversation," Adam said, looking at the dancing mob in the back half of the restaurant.

"Are we still having a conversation?"

"Yeah. And I think there's a lot more we need to discuss. Just not here."

Kris frowned at Adam's euphemism. It was a euphemism, right? Because Kris was quite proud of how much they'd just accomplished with very few words, and he didn't see the need to start making risky, declarative statements now. "Okay," he said.

Adam let go of his sleeve and twisted away, digging into his back pocket. He produced a white plastic card and held it out, pressed it into Kris's hand when he reached for it. "If you wanna talk later." He looked uncharacteristically nervous.

Kris held the white card up to see it in the flashing lights and recognized the familiar triangle pattern on one end. "Where?" he asked in a rush.

"The W in Westwood. Suite 1401."

Kris slipped the room key into his own pocket and took a half-step closer. "Later?"

"Tonight would work," Adam said, sounding breathless, a smile stealing over his lips.

"That sounds good," Kris nodded, inched even closer.

And Adam smiled wide and hot, his body leaning toward Kris for a slow, exhilarating moment, but then he stepped around him, left Kris standing by the exit watching Adam's long strides carry him back to the table.

Kris ran his hand over his own forearm, imitating that ghost-touch Adam had used, and his whole body shivered in response. He needed later to be now. Kris took some centering breaths to clear his head so he could face his friends again and sit next to Adam without touching him under the table for however long Anoop wanted to keep his party going. He bought himself a little more time, stopping by the bar and picking up waters for the table, but when he finally took his seat ten minutes later, Adam was getting up and pulling on his black leather jacket, the silver lining flashing.

"No, I'm not kidding. 9 a.m. rehearsals all week for this thing. The costumes aren't done yet, we haven't even gotten into the venue for dress rehearsals or sound checks-"

"But the tickets," Anoop demanded.

"Yes, cross my heart and hope to die, I will get you all VIP tickets," Adam grinned, making an X over his chest.

"You're leaving?" Kris asked, trying not to twitch with excitement. Later had just become soon.

Adam looked him over with a barely-concealed smile. "Yeah, early rehearsal. But these losers are giving me a hard time about being a working professional."

"Then we should let you get some sleep," Kris said, supporting the lie even as his eyes promised Adam he'd be right over.

"Yeah, sleep," Adam agreed. And then he wrenched his eyes away, promised to call Anoop tomorrow, waved to Will and Cale, and headed for the door.

"I can't believe he's bailing," Anoop muttered, wet beer bottle cradled between his collar and the side of his neck to cool his skin. "That's like taking the party away."

"The show's really important to him," Kris explained innocently.

Six eyes suddenly turned on him. "And where the hell have you been?" Anoop demanded, one eyebrow raised.

"Well," Cale prodded. "Did you talk to him?"

"We talked," Kris allowed.

"Did you ask him out?"

"Um. Kind of? Not…exactly?"

Cale slumped back in his chair. "Damn it, man."

"No, no," Kris protested, amazed by his own shamelessness for what he was about to reveal. But he was at the top of the roller coaster now, bursting with excitement, and he couldn't hold it in. "We're…we're gonna talk again. Later. About…that." Technically, there would be some talking, even if it was just 'yes' and 'more.'

"Sure. Maybe in a few months…."

"Or maybe tonight." And Kris flushed bright red and held up the room key between two fingers, like a trophy, like proof.

Will's chair thumped down onto all fours and he leaned in to take a look. "Hey, that's-"

"No way," Anoop gasped. "Kris Allen, did you just proposition Adam Lambert?"

"I think? Or it was the other way around?"

Cale grabbed him in a hug and rubbed the top of his head, sniffed, "I'm so proud of you little buddy. You're all growed-up."

Kris pushed him off and slid the key back into his pocket, wedging it as deep as it would go to make sure he didn't lose it.

"So that's why he suddenly bailed?"

Kris nodded.

"How come it's my party and Kris is the one getting laid tonight?"

"Cause you didn't fly Rachel out here, and she'll skin your dick if you sleep with another woman?" Will suggested, snagging one of the waters off the table.

"So uh…how long do you wanna keep him waiting?" Cale asked. "Should we go now, or…"

"We?"

"I'm good to drive. And you don't want some loud-mouthed cabbie blabbing how you lost your gay-virginity all over L.A. tomorrow, do you?"

"Why would I even need one, when I have loud-mouthed you to blab about it?"

"Hey, I'm wounded! I'm offering to drive you to your booty call, and you're calling me names!"

"Cale can even drive you around back to keep your cover," Will offered. "Adam likes to use the back door, right?"

Anoop whooped, Kris died of mortification, and Cale gave him another shove and said, "Look, go take a piss, buy some condoms from the machine, and let's get out of here already."

Kris gave all of them the finger and took Cale's advice.

He tried to catch Matt's eye on his way out a few minutes later, but Matt was slow dancing and necking with Beth, so he just hugged Anoop and fake-punched Will and headed for the door, Cale a few steps behind.

The air outside was colder than earlier, near 50 degrees, but Kris was warmed from the inside now, tequila and anticipation burning in his chest. When the blaring of a car alarm assaulted his ear drums, he winced and marveled again at what a ridiculously bad neighborhood this was for such a great time. Kris could almost look at Lennox fondly considering all the good it had just done him tonight. Squinting up Lennox Boulevard at the car with the flashing headlights, he was already picturing what he wanted to do to Adam, starting with his clothes and a closed hotel room door.

Cale nudged him and Kris stumbled a little. His friend caught his arm, tugged him to the right. Kris resisted and took his arm back, suddenly disoriented. That was a suspiciously nice car for this neighborhood. It kind of reminded him of…

Kris took a step to the left, and Cale tugged his sleeve again. "Hey, we're parked this way, lover boy."

Kris kept walking, getting halfway up the block before he was certain; those were Audi headlights. But was the paint black or purple?

"You're keeping Adam waiting," Cale reminded him, catching up and walking alongside.

"Adam drives an Audi," Kris said.

"Okay."

They were almost to the end of the block. The streets were empty, so Kris jogged across four lanes to the opposite sidewalk.

"Kris, seriously. I'm not gonna let you pussy out on this."

"A purple Audi." There it was-the glint off the hood. It wasn't black at all. Kris moved quicker, hopping over a cardboard box in front of some trash cans. "Adam?" he called, not seeing anyone else on the streets.

"Wait," Cale said as Kris reached the car.

The interior dome lights were on, illuminating empty seats. Kris circled back onto the street and noticed the sparkle of glass on the asphalt just before he saw the frame of jagged glass shards that used to be the driver's side window. "He isn't here," Kris said, his equilibrium shifting like three more tequila shots hitting at once.

Cale came around the back and saw the busted out window and swore. "Somebody broke into his car? Man, that sucks. They'd better not have touched mine."

"He isn't here," Kris repeated, whirling around to scan the streets again. There was no one.

"Obviously. He probably called the cops or a cab or something."

"His jacket's in the car."

Cale ducked down and looked through the smashed window. "Oh. Shit."

"Where is he?" This was a really bad neighborhood. He'd had a bad feeling about it when they'd first pulled up, and Adam had only been maybe seven minutes ahead of them, and he wasn't here anymore. "What the fuck, Cale?"

"So he went back inside to call the police."

Kris shook his head. "He wasn't in there. He-" Kris fumbled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket. There were no messages, so he hit speed dial 2.

"Well?" Cale asked after a long pause.

"He isn't picking up." It kicked over to voicemail and Kris cleared his throat, "Hey, where are you, man? I found your car but you're not here. Call me back and let me know what's up, ASAP."

Cale was apparently done making cracks about Kris's hookup. "What's the name of the hotel?"

There was no way Adam could have made it across town that fast, but Kris didn't fucking care. "W in Westwood. I'm gonna call his agent. Um, suite 1401." Kris scrolled through his contacts until he found Donald's number and pressed dial.

It took four rings before he answered. "Hello?"

"Hey, Donald, it's Kris Allen. Do you know where Adam is?"

"Allen? What time is it?" There was the sound of sheets rustling. "It's 1 in the fucking morning!" the agent yelled abruptly.

"I know, sorry. But do you know where Adam is? Right now?"

"How the fuck should I know! I'm not his fucking PA!"

Next to him, Cale was on his own phone, asking the W's receptionist to transfer him to suite 1401.

"He was just here a few minutes ago and now he's gone."

"Why the fuck are you calling me about this shit-"

"Donald, I'm standing next to his Audi, and the driver's side window's been smashed."

Donald took a loud breath and then yelled again, "Son of a bitch! That car was on loan from the dealership! He can't keep treating sponsors like this-"

Cale shook his head at Kris and his gut tightened up.

"Donald, we're in Lennox. Adam left the club just ahead of us, but when we came out he was gone and his car's been broken into. I think…something may have happened to him. I think you should come down here and help me figure this out." Kris strained his ears, listening past the irregular honking and whooping noises of the car alarm and the distant thud of the bass inside the restaurant for the sounds of approaching emergency vehicles, but there weren't any.

A night in L.A. without sirens. Merry fucking Christmas.

"Don't be so dramatic," Donald was saying, "he's probably in the next club already."

Kris's gut thought otherwise. Kris's gut thought it was time to become violently sick all over the sidewalk. "Cale, call the cops."

"Oh, for the love of god, Allen, do not call the cops!" Donald yelled, even more shrill.

"There aren't any other clubs around here! He isn't answering his phone, he hasn't gotten back to the hotel yet, we don't know where he is. We're calling the cops."

"Fine, fuck it, fine, I'm coming down there. Text me the address. Do not talk to the press before I get there, do you understand me?"

"Yeah," Kris said and hung up, forwarded the address to Donald's phone and listened in on Cale's 911 call.

Over the next few minutes of pacing, Kris called Adam a dozen more times. He even called Anoop to check if Adam had gone back inside. Anoop hadn't seen Adam and sounded curious about Kris's fuss, said he would come outside to check it out for himself. Kris warned him to stay inside unless he wanted to get questioned by the cops while drunk, and Anoop didn't end up making an appearance.

Ten minutes later, two black-uniformed officers looked over Kris and Cale, looked over the Audi, punched the license plate number into their system to confirm the owner, took their statements, and refused to listen to any of Kris's wild speculations. They seemed unimpressed with his concern and growing anger. Even Cale was getting pissed at them, Kris could tell. And then one of them shined a flashlight into the car and spotted the keys in the ignition, reached in and retrieved them, double-pressed the panic button to end the intermittent alarm. Silence washed over the street.

Adam's keys. Kris's breathing boarded on hyperventilating.

The cops became noticeably more interested after the discovery of the keys, calling for a crime scene tech to drive out. The paparazzi arrived first. The officers forced the photographers to the far side of the street, from which they had a perfect shot of the smashed window, Kris and Cale, and the now-agitated cops. Kris started pacing all over again, wondering if he should call Adam's family with the unknown-certainly bad-news.

Donald, Adam's short, angry agent, finally showed up in his Cadillac, barely wearing a suit and hair a mess, and stomped over to meet the cops.

Kris sighed with relief and let the cops brief Donald on the 'suspicious' situation as they understood it.

And then Donald opened his mouth, smiled, and said, "I'm sure this is just a misunderstanding. My client is a very creative and resourceful young man. If he found his vehicle broken into and unsafe to drive, I'm sure he found alternate transportation. There's nothing here to worry about. I'll have the car towed to the dealer right away. We won't be filing an insurance claim, so there's no need to trouble yourselves with paperwork-"

"What the fuck!" Kris interrupted, shoving Donald's arm.

"Mr. Allen, if you don't mind giving me a little personal space?"

"Do you know where Adam is?"

"That is hardly an appropriate tone of voice for this hour of night."

"Do you know where Adam is?" Kris demanded again, belligerent.

"I do not know where my client is, but wherever he is I'm sure he's enjoying himself. Now, I think it's time for you and your friend to go home. You've obviously had a bit too much of a good time yourself, and I suggest you sleep it off before you end up all over the front page tomorrow." Donald jerked his chin across the street, where there were now seven paparazzi and a TMZ videographer lined up.

Kris didn't care. He wanted to punch Donald, and to hell with the consequences.

"Kris, come on," Cale said, grabbing his shoulder and forcing him away. "We'll keep calling him. He's bound to answer some time."

"Good night, Mr. Allen," Donald called, turning back to sugarcoat the police some more.

Kris's shoulders slumped and he let Cale drag him back to his car, knowing with every fiber of his being that he was walking away from the one place he most needed to be.

Part II