fic: [ai] (I hope that you're having) the time of your life (Kris/Adam, PG-13)
Title: (I hope that you're having) the time of your life
Pairing: Kris/Adam, a little Kris/Katy
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not at all true. Makes no representation as to what these people are actually like.
Summary: Adam relaxes his arms, because maybe Kris wants to move sometime soon, but that just makes Kris crawl up the length of his body and burrow in even closer, hands fisting in the frayed edges of Adam's shirt. How to survive and thrive on American Idol, by Adam Lambert, Kris Allen and Allison Iraheta.
Notes: Written for adam4life in the charity drive for Haiti at ontd_ai. Major thanks to realpestilence and oatmeal_cookie for whipping this thing into shape.
During their first couple of days as room mates, Kris Allen spends a lot of time staring at Adam. Not in the vaguely scandalized way some of the other contestants had - Adam's a big boy, he can take that shit, but it got annoying pretty damn fast - just bright-eyed and direct, like he is now, chin resting on his hands, elbows braced against the back of the chair he's straddling. There's more honest interest there than Adam knows what to do with, especially combined with the shiny band decorating his ring finger.
"Be honest - is my make-up smudged?"
Kris's eyes widen and he ducks his head, but not before Adam catches a glimpse of the faint flush over his cheekbones. "I - no, you're fine, I just - "
Adam would step in and save him the embarrassment, but the fumbling is really too adorable. He busies himself fighting a losing battle against a silly grin instead.
As he watches, Kris shakes his head violently, his entire bearing going from skittish to relaxed between one blink and the next. "I - hm. It's like…some people are picture books, and other people are novels. You're like a page-turner, you know?"
Adam just stares for bit. "Congratulations, I think that's the weirdest compliment I've ever received from a sober person. You are sober, aren't you? Because if you're not, sharing is caring."
"Fine, I like looking at you." Kris's smile is a dangerously changeable thing - it goes from lazy to sly with the barest quirk of his lips. "Do you mind?"
"Of course not. Cute boys are always welcome to stare at me."
Kris raises his eyebrows at the 'cute boys' part, mouthing 'me?' and pointing to himself like he actually has no idea.
It takes barely five seconds of Adam giving him an incredulous are-you-fucking-serious look before he breaks down giggling, whole body shaking with it.
"Thanks."
* * *
Adam met Allison during Hollywood Week when she all but ran into him. Five minutes later, they were swapping dyed-hair treatment tips and talking about other contestants.
Then he actually heard her sing, and there may or may not have been embarrassing seal-clapping. So as soon as they got put into the same semi-final group, he knew she was a lock for the female finalist slot.
After the first live performance show, he's willing to bet his apartment lease on it. Backstage, she tumbles onto the couch next to him, thumping his shoulder and grinning. "Hey, rock star."
"Stole my line. You were brilliant."
"The interview was kind of a crapshoot though."
Adam turns so that he's fully facing her, limbs still heavy with post-performance lethargy. "Who cares? You can sing your face off."
As soon as they got backstage, Kris perched himself on the arm of the couch Matt was slumped down on, physically shielding him from scrutiny, head bowed so that there was only a few inches of air between his lips and Matt's ear as he talked. When Adam brushed past earlier, a PA had been hovering, clearly trying to figure out a way to interrupt the conversation. Adam took one look at what he could see of Matt's face and asked her to come back later.
Last time Adam checked, they were still talking, so he's a little startled when Kris seemingly materializes out of thin air in front of him with Matt nowhere to be seen. He holds up his right hand, looking down expectantly until Adam drags himself upright to make the high-five. His hand is warm and he doesn't let go for what feels like a minute, even though that infectious grin is directed as much at Allison as it is at Adam.
"Hey, how're we feeling?"
Allison drags a hand over her face. "Right now? So fucking tired, man. Oh, and hi."
"Hi yourself. By the way, you were amazing tonight," Kris says, wide-eyed and so earnest Adam can't help a smile.
Even Allison looks kind of thrown by the sheer gale force of his sincerity at first, only breaking into a goofy grin to match his when she decides he's actually for real.
* * *
Getting up at far-too-early-o-clock in the morning to do press is like visiting the ninth circle of hell. Adam's not sure how he's functioning after what seems like the tenth question about Kara, or Tatiana, or how he felt last night. The sad thing is he's still doing better than Kris, who's said about ten words total and is clearly not a morning person. At least Allison's energy level is high, but he suspects it's the sheer force of her adorable flailing rather than anything else that's carrying her through.
After all that song and dance is done, none of them even want to move, so they end up side by side on the same couch, Kris's thigh pressed against his and Allison's head on Kris's shoulder. She's half asleep. He should be too, since they’ve got some meetings soon, but he's too keyed up to nap right now.
Kris ran out of energy and gave up bitching about how much he sucked at interviews after five minutes. Now he's just sitting there, leaning against Adam and playing with the hem of his shirt. When he speaks up again, his voice is still in that lazy, husky drawl.
"This whole thing is so ridiculous."
Murmured against Adam's ear, it sounds like anything but a complaint about the weirdness of an early press junket via satellite.
Adam rests a hand on top of his head, partly just to see what the reaction is. They haven't known each other long enough to be sure of the physical boundaries, no matter how careless Kris seems to be about personal space. He only starts stroking his fingers through the unruly mess when Kris gives a contented little sigh, leaning into the contact.
"You signed up for it."
"Well, yeah. I knew what I was getting into. It's still ridiculous."
Allison stirs, leaning back far enough to give Kris a sceptical look. Even half awake, it's pretty impressive.
"You realize it's only gonna get worse from here."
The corners of Kris's lips pull up, and this is his real smile, bright and careless, nothing like what he was giving the camera. "If I don't get voted off next week."
Allison snorts, shaking her head and making Kris splutter at the amount of hair attacking his face. Abruptly, Adam finds himself grinning at them, even more so when Allison, now bright eyed and sitting up, smacks him on the arm.
"Hey, let's make a pact."
"What for?" Kris says, shifting until Adam moves his hand and then lifting his head with a reasonable attempt at paying attention.
Allison rolls her eyes. "To win Idol, duh."
"We can't all win."
Kris looks at Adam significantly after he says it. It's kind of cute how he honestly believes that Adam's going to win based on having watched him sing a couple of times. Besides, as they'd both agreed that first night they roomed together, it isn't even about winning.
"Top 3. How's that?" he says, surprising himself with how much he means it.
"Yeah, absolutely," Allison grins, holding out both hands. Adam and Kris fist bump her at the same time, and it feels kind of silly but also weirdly important, all three of them wearing the same dorky smile.
* * *
Kris, as it turns out, only cares about what other people think of him when it's relevant to that whole 'stick around long enough to get a record deal' business. Which is a healthy attitude to have, as far as Adam's concerned, and another way they're weirdly alike. Finding more of them is fast becoming one of Adam's favourite pastimes.
" - who knows what the producers are going to do now that the finals are starting? Maybe they want drama from me."
"At least you're never going to be boring," Kris says lightly, but there's an undercurrent of worry there too.
Even under the harsh lighting of the dressing room, there's something impossibly pretty about the downward sweep of his lashes, the flash of pale skin peeking out between the hem of his frayed shirt and the top of his new jeans when he bends backward on the sofa, stopping when his back hits the armrest, arm dangling casually off the side.
Adam wants to laugh. "I don't think America's going to be bored by you."
* * *
Kris spends the entire time he watches Adam practice Ring of Fire fighting a smirk. After the first run-through, he jumps up, clapping gleefully and cheering.
Adam would guess he's about sixty percent serious.
"What do you think? Too much?"
He doesn't really care - the arrangement is great, he can sing the hell out of the song, and it's going to get people talking. But he's realistic too. In some ways, this is a popularity contest.
Kris sobers up straight away, slumping back into his chair with a thoughtful look on his face. "Hmm. Depends. Dialling it down next week?"
Adam bites back a smirk. "Maybe."
"You're fine," Kris says with a shrug and a smile. "Actually, you're so well prepared it makes everybody else look like complete amateurs. It's kind of awesome."
Of course, Simon ends up hating it, but it works out anyway, just like they'd talked about.
* * *
The door to the practice room is half open. Adam's just about to grab the handle when he hears the music.
At first he can't quite believe his ears - all the times he's heard Kris sing since the semi-finals, it's never sounded anything like this, low and sinuous and just the right amount of rough. Finally he has to open the door just to make sure it's actually Kris.
"Rain down, rain down, come on rain down on me - Adam. I didn't - when'd you come in?"
Maybe for the first time, he finds himself thinking what is this guy? Especially when Kris looks like he's been caught doing something embarrassing, as if doing awesome Radiohead covers in his spare time is a dirty secret.
"Why don't you do that when they let us pick whatever song we want?"
The honest appreciation in Adam's tone seems to chase off the embarrassment. Kris grins as he puts his guitar down and walks over to sit on the piano bench, a step away from Adam.
"Nah, not really my thing, you know. The judges would hate it. Here, listen to this."
And that's when Adam first hears Kris's Ain't No Sunshine.
* * *
Out of all of them, Adam's probably the most polished performer. It's not ego, it's just true. He's got the experience to back it up. Then there's Alli, the natural, who can light up a stage without even trying.
And Kris, well, he's a lot more of a pro than anybody thinks. Being able to come across as not performing at all, like he's making a song up on the spot, feeling every word, is its own kind of skill.
Adam thinks this as the rest of them all gather backstage to watch Kris's show-ending performance. Even on the small monitors, it feels almost voyeuristic seeing the emotion on his face as he plays the keyboard - but that's part of Kris's appeal too.
There's a lot of backslapping waiting for Kris when he's done, and it's ten, fifteen minutes before he makes his way over to Adam and Allison's couch for their usual super-dorky high-five routine. After that, they usually make space for him to sit, but this time he stays standing, beaming at Allison.
"I saw you with the guitar - that sounded awesome."
"Oh yeah, it was fun - except for the judges. I get the feeling those guys don't like me," Allison says with a laugh, no hint of self-pity but plenty of cynicism. "When they're judging me it's suddenly like Top Model up there."
She's right, it's bullshit, and Adam's about to rant at length along those lines - it wouldn't be the first time - when Kris shakes his head violently, bending down so he can grab Allison's hand and look right at her.
"Listen. It won't matter. I can't even listen to anything the judges say after you sing, my mind's still too blown. You're amazing. People will hear that."
Kris has this way of looking at people when he's fully present, mind and body, that makes the person feel like they're the only thing in his world. It's probably the main source of his super power of absolute, non-cheesy sincerity. Right now, it's making Allison smile despite herself.
Adam puts his arm around her and hugs her close, grinning at them both. "Aw, Kris, you big sap. He's right, though. Who cares what the judges say? You killed it."
* * *
Getting to sleep the night before a performance show is always a tall order. It's the combination of exhaustion and nerves, and it doesn't go away no matter how many times he tells himself that Mad World is going to work out great.
Somehow, Kris doesn’t have anything like that problem.
"I hate you. Stop being so relaxed unless you can teach it to me."
They're on his bed, and Kris's head is pillowed on Adam's upper thigh, because you're comfortable, stay still. He grins, eyes half closed.
"Oh, you know. I'm pretty easy."
Adam snickers and keeps petting his hair. "Seriously, I have to know - how are you getting the joints into the mansion?"
"What, I can't be this laid-back by nature?"
"I know laid-back. You're horizontal on a bad day."
"It's Arkansas, man. That's how we roll."
Adam makes a really great pained face - it's a shame Kris isn't looking, because it really should be appreciated by an audience. "Please never say that again."
"Oh, come on," Kris says, cracking his eyes open - too late! - and throwing his hands up. "Am I not gangsta enough for you?"
"Okay, that's it."
Last week, Allison made the awesome discovery that Kris was really, really ticklish, and they've been making great use of this vulnerability ever since. It only takes one arm to hold him down when he's breathless from laughter, too, which is really incredibly convenient for Adam, who can just dig the fingers of his other hand into Kris's side and wait - not very long - for him to start squirming and laughing.
Sure enough, Kris has to bury his face in the fabric of Adam's shirt, gasping for breath between giggles. "Alright, alright. Uncle!"
Adam relaxes his arms, because maybe Kris wants to move sometime soon, but that just makes Kris crawl up the length of his body and burrow in even closer, hands fisting in the frayed edges of Adam's shirt.
"Are you going to sleep here?"
Because yeah, it's great that they can be touchy-feely with no cringe factor at all, but this is going to become problematic real soon.
Kris braces himself on his elbows to look down at Adam, heavy-lidded, tongue swiping across his bottom lip, and it's times like these that make Adam wonder just how self-aware he is. "You don't mind, do you?"
(Whether he knows what he sounds like just now.)
"I don't know, you do have a lot of bony bits."
Kris laughs, making a show of digging his elbow into Adam's side as he's shifting around, but Adam's far too busy trying not to notice that Kris has gone from lying half on top of him to straddling him to appreciate the joke.
If they ever had any boundaries, this would definitely count as too close. Which reminds him, and hey, what an excellent distraction from trying not to freak his straight room mate out with his hard-on.
"Seriously, though. How do you do it?"
"Do what?"
Adam gestures broadly, or as broadly as he can with Kris attached to him. "Get this laid-back without chemical substances being involved."
Kris approximates a shrug. "Maybe I'm just naturally chill."
"No one is this naturally chill. You have blank spaces where other people have hang-ups."
It's true, and while it makes him the ideal room mate, Adam does wonder.
Kris laughs, inches from the shell of his ear. "Be honest - people or straight guys?"
Adam thinks about it for a moment. This is new territory for them, conversation-wise. "Straight guys, mostly. My point stands."
Kris gets up on his elbows again, expression cloudy and thoughtful. His words come slow, as if he's pondering each one. "When I was at college, some of the guys who hit on me when they got drunk would get super defensive when they sobered up. I never got why. It's not a big deal. If you like someone, you like them, right?"
In Adam's experience, it's more complicated than that, but he kind of likes Kris's worldview, and he's too tired to argue. They can have the awkward, banter-filled talk about sexual identity some other time.
Maybe the decision shows on his face, because Kris's eyes go from considering to affectionate, then he's leaning down to kissing Adam, slow and sleepy and sweet, lips parting easily to let him in when Adam licks at the chapped skin.
He's almost too tired to get turned on, and when they break apart to breathe, Adam just feels warm all over.
"Does this mean we need to talk?"
"Um, not tonight?" Kris laughs against his mouth. "Sleep. We've got a show to put on tomorrow."
* * *
After Mad World, he's barely stepped backstage before getting tackle-hugged by two small but ferocious bundles of energy, both Kris and Allison not even talking, just beaming at him.
Kris doesn't bring it up until they're almost ready to get packed off back to the mansion.
"Do you think I'm going home?" He doesn't sound torn up about it, just contemplative.
"Hell no."
"Definitely not."
Kris looks at Adam and Allison grinning at each other for a long moment before cracking his own smile.
"But the song sucked?"
Allison winces. "Yeah, man, it kind of did. Sorry."
Kris pats her on the shoulder. "Don't apologize for being honest. Adam never does."
"Hey!"
"I'm just so much nicer than he is."
He'd protest, but they're just so damn cute when they're snickering at each other.
* * *
The first time he meets Katy, Adam feels a little guilty for no reason. Which makes him kind of resentful, right up until she looks him up and down, intense and appraising and kind of like Kris had that first day, and grins like she's pleased.
"You are taking care of my boy for me, right?"
Then it's more like meeting a long-lost friend. A long-lost friend who's married to the guy he may or may not have a thing for and has the world's most adorable relationship with said guy -
"Ask him to show you the pictures from Italy sometime," she told him after they broke out the wine. "We sort of do things our own way."
- well, a little unconventional, maybe, but still adorable.
He and Katy agree on a lot of things - the best brand for black nail polish, the painfully addictive qualities of the Twilight books, Kris needing a stylist when he's not being dressed by the Idol people - and, apparently, that thin white shirts are wonderful things.
The Idol stylists have tried to make Adam wear some unflattering things, but whoever made this particular purchase deserves a pay rise. And another one for making Kris wear it. Adam gave up trying not to look ten minutes ago. Now, he's just trying for subtlety.
He glances over at Katy, just in time to see her trying to tone down her version of that same look, directed at the curve of Kris's back as he laughs at whatever Matt is saying.
When she catches him catching her, they both laugh. Adam leans down to high-five her and feels like he's sharing a secret.
Kris turns around in time to catch them in the act, his eyes widening in mock-terror. "Now I'm scared."
Katy grins. "Oh, you totally should be."
* * *
It's probably subconscious, but Kris is making a very elaborate production out of eating ice cream out of the container (the muted Family Guy episode on TV seemingly forgotten) when Adam comes into the lounge. Then again, he came back from dinner with Katy bright-eyed, hair mussed and mouth swollen and red, so it could just be excess energy. This stupid curfew is hell on all their sex lives.
When he spots Adam, Kris waves an extra spoon at him, pats the spot next to him on the couch, and well. Who is he to refuse that kind of invitation? He's a little dubious about the ice cream, though - everyone ends up stress-eating in the mansion, but Adam tries not to indulge too much. Kris has some very loud opinions about Adam's eating habits ("you eat less than me, Adam, that's just not right," "your freakish metabolism, that's what's not right,") so it's no surprise when he shifts until his thigh is pressed against Adam's and shoves the container and the spoon into his hands.
Also not particularly surprising these days: the intent way Kris watches him, when he gives in without a fight.
He's always blatant about looking and doesn't really mind being caught. It's nothing like the way some of the backstage guys look at Adam, curious and intrigued at the same time, as if Adam's the key to a secret they're not sure they want to know about. A lot of the time Kris acts like he already knows. Like it's not a big deal.
"What?"
Kris grins, his gaze dragging up from Adam's mouth to his eyes. "I like you," said in an undertone full of mischief, then he's reaching over to set the ice cream container aside, one hand warm on Adam's thigh, fingers spread out and thumb stroking the seam of his jeans as he leans forward.
Adam tilts Kris's head up with one hand on the back of his neck and the other cupping his cheek, licking a smear of ice cream from the corner of his smiling mouth. Kris's lips part as he shivers and Adam can't help diving in for more of the same sweet taste, the coldness of the ice cream and the wet warmth of Kris's tongue. It's languid and easy, because they're both bone-tired, and that's almost habitual by now. As they part, Kris slides his lips down Adam's jaw, light like the drag of velvet over skin until he bites down, not quite hard enough that there'll be marks, and giggles at Adam's shudder.
Adam slides his fingers into Kris's hair and tugs, only partly in retaliation, mostly so that he'll lay his head down on Adam's shoulder. Usually this is his cue to fall asleep.
When Kris starts laughing under his breath instead, Adam nudges him in the side. "What's so funny?'
It takes Kris a moment to collect himself. Then he's quiet, thinking.
"Just…I was thinking about that dance we were rehearsing today. I never thought I'd be doing anything like that in a million years. This entire thing is like an out of body experience."
That's probably true for everyone, no matter how much experience they have in the industry. This show's like nothing else.
Thinking back to the ridiculous spectacle that was this morning, Adam suddenly wants to laugh too. "You think we're going to look back on this and think 'what the fuck were we doing?'"
Kris makes a couple of faces - all of which involve wrinkling his nose - before settling on a grin. "Maybe about these stupid group numbers? Getting to meet you guys, though, that part's pretty cool."
Adam snickers. "American Idol: a good place to meet people. Who knew?"
"Shut up, you know what I mean."
"Awww, friends with benefits forever?"
Kris laughs so hard he nearly falls over, gasping for breath, all the while blushing right on cue.
It shouldn't be this easy, being in this nebulous space between friends and lovers. Maybe it's the enforced closeness of the mansion and sharing this entire crazy experience. Maybe if they'd met anywhere else, their relationship would be very different.
He can't really imagine it any other way.
* * *
As soon as they find out about the duets, Adam looks over at Allison and they agree without ever having to say anything. It makes sense for them to work together, and no one else is going to take it away.
He's ridiculously excited to do this - it's going to be perfect, he can feel it, and the anticipation even cuts through the constant fog of exhaustion. They're all going to kick ass and hopefully make the top 3. Which would be an amazing thing, no matter what they joked about all those months ago.
The only blot on the horizon is Kris alternatively trying to hide his disappointment and (when his mean streak surfaced) giving Adam the terrifyingly effective woe-is-me eyes.
"Come on, don't make that face at me. You're the best at handling Danny anyway."
Kris gives him a flat, considering look. When he smiles again, there's no teeth to it. "Sure. I'll work something out."
* * *
Kris wanders into the room while Adam's listening to Slow Ride on his iPod for what feels like the hundredth time, trying to get everything right.
"Where have you been? Danny's looking all over for you."
He'd even been desperate enough to come into Adam's room, a place he usually avoided like gay could be catching.
"Needed some alone time," Kris says quietly. "You know, my favourite thing about this stupid place is how easy it is to disappear in it."
Adam kind of agrees. The luxuries are nice, but the alone time's kept him sane.
"Shouldn't you be practising?"
Kris makes a face. "If he actually wanted to practice, I wouldn’t be hiding. I'm just sick of having the same conversation over and over."
People mistake easy-going for pushover, which is just stupid - Kris can be a nasty little bitch when he feels like it. One of Adam's fondest memories of this whole crazy year is the time Kris did his scary impression of an empty-headed pretty boy through an entire disastrous photo shoot (not even blinking once in the face of the asshole photographer's increasing frustration while Adam and Allison tried not to laugh their asses off).
All this means Adam's pretty sure he knows what Kris and Danny have been having arguments about. He'd almost walked in on the tail end of what was probably the first one, their second day in the mansion, checking himself outside the kitchen when he heard Kris's voice ringing with a cadence he'd never heard in it before.
"As it is written: there is none righteous, no, not one. I think that's my favourite right now, actually." A pause, then footsteps. When Kris spoke again, it was his usual soft mumble. "Good night, Danny."
Kris doesn't go out of his way to be nasty to Danny - in fact, Adam's pretty sure he tries really hard to be nice. It's just that Danny's attitude towards certain things - like, say, people like Adam - annoys him. Adam had tried to explain that he didn't give a fuck what Danny thought about his 'lifestyle choices' - it's not like this is an afterschool special and everybody has to learn their lesson before the credits roll. Kris just shrugged and said he couldn't help what got to him.
So Adam's learnt to recognise this brand of tenseness, along with what makes it go away.
"Come here."
Kris kind of drapes himself across Adam's lap, limbs sprawled carelessly, his voice low and deceptively soft when he speaks. "You left me with him. If I kill Danny before the performance, his blood will be on your hands. How are you going to sleep at night, Adam?"
Adam slips a hand up the back of his shirt, massaging along the curve of his spine, and tries not to laugh. "I think I'll live."
* * *
They're fucking around in the practice room while Alli's doing schoolwork. Kris is miming the riff for Whole Lotta Love on his electric guitar like he's in a Led Zeppelin cover band while the original song plays in the background, Adam mouthing along to save his voice. When the song ends, Kris collapses in a fit of giggles, breaking character at last, and Adam has a sudden thought.
"I know you're committed to the acoustic thing on the show, but - I'd love to see you really cut loose on stage some time."
Kris straightens, tossing him a sheepish grin. "Thanks. It's not gonna happen on live TV, though."
"Why not?"
"You know I hate performing at a camera."
You're in the top 4 on the biggest reality show on earth. "You do realize the irony in what you just said, right?"
"Yeah, yeah, shut up. You know what I mean."
Kris doesn't even have that difficult of a relationship with the camera - god knows it likes him enough. Maybe he doesn't have Adam's ease with it, but he does well enough ignoring its existence - hm.
"So you're not performing at a camera. You're performing at me. Go."
Kris stares at him for a moment, unsure as Adam's ever seen him. "I - um."
He crouches down to make sure his guitar is safely placed against the wall, and Adam's about to tell him to stop stalling when he straightens with a grin.
- and sings the first verse of Come Together at Adam, exactly as requested, eyes not leaving Adam's face the whole time.
They're close enough for Adam to count Kris's lashes by the end. "Got to be a joker he just do what he please…yeah," the last note stretched out as he sinks to his knees in one smooth motion, smiling up at Adam like an exotic circus animal that had just done a neat trick.
Adam lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Kris."
"Yeah?"
"Don't do that to Simon."
Halfway through pulling himself up by bracing his hands on Adam's hips, Kris almost chokes laughing.
"Thanks for that mental image. I'm probably not his type anyway."
* * *
Before the show, Kris gets up on his toes to whisper into Adam's ear, hands tight on his shoulders. "You're gonna kill up there. Ten bucks that Kara faints during Whole Lotta Love."
Adam laughs, which makes Kris look impossibly pleased with himself, which in turn makes Adam want to hug the breath out of him, so they do that for a while.
He feels great. It's not even confidence - more that he knows he's good at this, was always meant to do it, and only has to now go out in front of a massive television audience and let people see that.
No big deal.
* * *
After the results show, the ride back to the mansion is completely silent.
Kris falls asleep five minutes in, head pillowed on Adam's shoulder. He's been doing that a lot lately - taking naps whenever they're not rehearsing or practicing or doing press, snuggled up to the nearest warm body on the most comfortable surface he can find. (Usually Adam and a couch.) It's a combination of the stress and attrition getting to them all. Adam only wishes he could deal with it by napping, except this whole thing is actually messing with his body clock and he's having trouble falling asleep even at night.
Mrs Iraheta has her arms around Allison, who's sitting straight-backed, head held high, and has a smile for Adam whenever he can bear to look over at her.
Survivor's guilt is a bitch. But if Adam's feeling it, and he knows Kris is in pretty much the same state, he's also petty enough to enjoy the way Danny shrunk into his own corner as soon as they got backstage. He hasn't looked at Allison once since then.
Maybe even he thinks it shouldn't have been her.
* * *
At midnight, he wanders into the kitchen to find Allison seated on the counter, eating cookies. She scoots over to make space for him next to her, and he has to fight down the urge to make an excuse and leave.
No. Don't be a coward.
Being seated on the counter with only half the lights on makes him feel inexplicably young, like the insanely talented girl next to him. (Although the thought of sixteen-year-old him going on a show like Idol is enough to make him flinch. In a way, Allison is crazy mature for her age.)
Case in point:
"Guess our pact didn't work out. You know what this means, right?" She says, breaking the long silence, and she sounds normal, even cheerful.
"What?"
"You and Kris have to be top 2 now. If either of you mess it up, I'm going to kick your ass."
She shakes her fist at him, which is a little less menacing than it would be without the half-eaten cookie clutched in it. Adam laughs, feeling kind of light-headed. "Gotcha. Are you going to be okay?"
"No. Not okay. I'm going to kick ass," she says slowly, meaning it, and yeah. Of course she is.
* * *
He wakes up in the middle of the night to find Kris snuggled up against him, which is not at all unusual these days. Kris mumbling to himself, though, is.
"What are you - "
Kris cups his ear, bright smile visible even in the dark. "Are you there, God? It's me, Kris."
He lays his head back down in time to press his cheek against the tail end of Adam's laugh, rumbling through his chest. Adam strokes a hand over Kris's cheekbone, once, twice, then just leaves it there, fingers sprayed flat over the skin where he can feel Kris's mouth forming silent words.
Adam doesn't really believe in prayer, but he kind of wants to send a thank you note to the universe himself. Just for this moment.
* * *
Heartless is playing pretty much every single time Adam goes into Kris's room that week. Even he's sick of Kanye West by Tuesday.
The night before performances, the mansion is completely silent save for the whirring of far too many appliances and Kris's soft whisper in the dark.
"This is either going to be a train wreck or get me into the final."
Adam has to smile. "You don't do train wrecks."
There's no response, and for a while Adam thinks he's fallen asleep.
"I'm just really fucking tired, man," Kris finally sighs, burying his face in Adam's side. "Can't believe it's almost over."
"Yeah. Nearly there," Adam says, and he's tired too, which is the only excuse for the way those words come out. Too much there underneath for even Kris to miss.
He sits up, peering closely at Adam's face under the moonlight leaking through the windows.
"So tell me something. When you're a big-time rock star, are you still gonna return my calls?"
He's joking, but in the way that's really half-serious.
"I solemnly pledge to take time out of my busy schedule for you, as long as you do the same," Adam says carefully, fingers tracing along Kris's cheek until he finds the edge of his smile.
He's not joking at all.
"Done," Kris answers straightaway, moving the few extra inches necessary to press his lips against the corner of Adam's mouth, just enough for him to feel it. "And now it's a promise."
* * *
The first thing he sees the next morning when he opens his eyes is Kris making a ridiculous face, complete with bulging eyes and a demented grin. He offers his hand to pull Adam up, fingers twining with his and holding on tight.
"Hey. Come on, we've got this."
It's true. The world's not going to know what hit it.
Fin.
Notes:
1. The Bible passage partially quoted by Kris is Romans 3:10.
2. Michael Castro has talked about hearing Kris cover Paranoid Android by Radiohead during Hollywood Week, just for kicks. It's a crime that we don't have video of this, y/n?
Thank you for reading. As always all comments are appreciated, and I always reply.
Pairing: Kris/Adam, a little Kris/Katy
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not at all true. Makes no representation as to what these people are actually like.
Summary: Adam relaxes his arms, because maybe Kris wants to move sometime soon, but that just makes Kris crawl up the length of his body and burrow in even closer, hands fisting in the frayed edges of Adam's shirt. How to survive and thrive on American Idol, by Adam Lambert, Kris Allen and Allison Iraheta.
Notes: Written for adam4life in the charity drive for Haiti at ontd_ai. Major thanks to realpestilence and oatmeal_cookie for whipping this thing into shape.
During their first couple of days as room mates, Kris Allen spends a lot of time staring at Adam. Not in the vaguely scandalized way some of the other contestants had - Adam's a big boy, he can take that shit, but it got annoying pretty damn fast - just bright-eyed and direct, like he is now, chin resting on his hands, elbows braced against the back of the chair he's straddling. There's more honest interest there than Adam knows what to do with, especially combined with the shiny band decorating his ring finger.
"Be honest - is my make-up smudged?"
Kris's eyes widen and he ducks his head, but not before Adam catches a glimpse of the faint flush over his cheekbones. "I - no, you're fine, I just - "
Adam would step in and save him the embarrassment, but the fumbling is really too adorable. He busies himself fighting a losing battle against a silly grin instead.
As he watches, Kris shakes his head violently, his entire bearing going from skittish to relaxed between one blink and the next. "I - hm. It's like…some people are picture books, and other people are novels. You're like a page-turner, you know?"
Adam just stares for bit. "Congratulations, I think that's the weirdest compliment I've ever received from a sober person. You are sober, aren't you? Because if you're not, sharing is caring."
"Fine, I like looking at you." Kris's smile is a dangerously changeable thing - it goes from lazy to sly with the barest quirk of his lips. "Do you mind?"
"Of course not. Cute boys are always welcome to stare at me."
Kris raises his eyebrows at the 'cute boys' part, mouthing 'me?' and pointing to himself like he actually has no idea.
It takes barely five seconds of Adam giving him an incredulous are-you-fucking-serious look before he breaks down giggling, whole body shaking with it.
"Thanks."
* * *
Adam met Allison during Hollywood Week when she all but ran into him. Five minutes later, they were swapping dyed-hair treatment tips and talking about other contestants.
Then he actually heard her sing, and there may or may not have been embarrassing seal-clapping. So as soon as they got put into the same semi-final group, he knew she was a lock for the female finalist slot.
After the first live performance show, he's willing to bet his apartment lease on it. Backstage, she tumbles onto the couch next to him, thumping his shoulder and grinning. "Hey, rock star."
"Stole my line. You were brilliant."
"The interview was kind of a crapshoot though."
Adam turns so that he's fully facing her, limbs still heavy with post-performance lethargy. "Who cares? You can sing your face off."
As soon as they got backstage, Kris perched himself on the arm of the couch Matt was slumped down on, physically shielding him from scrutiny, head bowed so that there was only a few inches of air between his lips and Matt's ear as he talked. When Adam brushed past earlier, a PA had been hovering, clearly trying to figure out a way to interrupt the conversation. Adam took one look at what he could see of Matt's face and asked her to come back later.
Last time Adam checked, they were still talking, so he's a little startled when Kris seemingly materializes out of thin air in front of him with Matt nowhere to be seen. He holds up his right hand, looking down expectantly until Adam drags himself upright to make the high-five. His hand is warm and he doesn't let go for what feels like a minute, even though that infectious grin is directed as much at Allison as it is at Adam.
"Hey, how're we feeling?"
Allison drags a hand over her face. "Right now? So fucking tired, man. Oh, and hi."
"Hi yourself. By the way, you were amazing tonight," Kris says, wide-eyed and so earnest Adam can't help a smile.
Even Allison looks kind of thrown by the sheer gale force of his sincerity at first, only breaking into a goofy grin to match his when she decides he's actually for real.
* * *
Getting up at far-too-early-o-clock in the morning to do press is like visiting the ninth circle of hell. Adam's not sure how he's functioning after what seems like the tenth question about Kara, or Tatiana, or how he felt last night. The sad thing is he's still doing better than Kris, who's said about ten words total and is clearly not a morning person. At least Allison's energy level is high, but he suspects it's the sheer force of her adorable flailing rather than anything else that's carrying her through.
After all that song and dance is done, none of them even want to move, so they end up side by side on the same couch, Kris's thigh pressed against his and Allison's head on Kris's shoulder. She's half asleep. He should be too, since they’ve got some meetings soon, but he's too keyed up to nap right now.
Kris ran out of energy and gave up bitching about how much he sucked at interviews after five minutes. Now he's just sitting there, leaning against Adam and playing with the hem of his shirt. When he speaks up again, his voice is still in that lazy, husky drawl.
"This whole thing is so ridiculous."
Murmured against Adam's ear, it sounds like anything but a complaint about the weirdness of an early press junket via satellite.
Adam rests a hand on top of his head, partly just to see what the reaction is. They haven't known each other long enough to be sure of the physical boundaries, no matter how careless Kris seems to be about personal space. He only starts stroking his fingers through the unruly mess when Kris gives a contented little sigh, leaning into the contact.
"You signed up for it."
"Well, yeah. I knew what I was getting into. It's still ridiculous."
Allison stirs, leaning back far enough to give Kris a sceptical look. Even half awake, it's pretty impressive.
"You realize it's only gonna get worse from here."
The corners of Kris's lips pull up, and this is his real smile, bright and careless, nothing like what he was giving the camera. "If I don't get voted off next week."
Allison snorts, shaking her head and making Kris splutter at the amount of hair attacking his face. Abruptly, Adam finds himself grinning at them, even more so when Allison, now bright eyed and sitting up, smacks him on the arm.
"Hey, let's make a pact."
"What for?" Kris says, shifting until Adam moves his hand and then lifting his head with a reasonable attempt at paying attention.
Allison rolls her eyes. "To win Idol, duh."
"We can't all win."
Kris looks at Adam significantly after he says it. It's kind of cute how he honestly believes that Adam's going to win based on having watched him sing a couple of times. Besides, as they'd both agreed that first night they roomed together, it isn't even about winning.
"Top 3. How's that?" he says, surprising himself with how much he means it.
"Yeah, absolutely," Allison grins, holding out both hands. Adam and Kris fist bump her at the same time, and it feels kind of silly but also weirdly important, all three of them wearing the same dorky smile.
* * *
Kris, as it turns out, only cares about what other people think of him when it's relevant to that whole 'stick around long enough to get a record deal' business. Which is a healthy attitude to have, as far as Adam's concerned, and another way they're weirdly alike. Finding more of them is fast becoming one of Adam's favourite pastimes.
" - who knows what the producers are going to do now that the finals are starting? Maybe they want drama from me."
"At least you're never going to be boring," Kris says lightly, but there's an undercurrent of worry there too.
Even under the harsh lighting of the dressing room, there's something impossibly pretty about the downward sweep of his lashes, the flash of pale skin peeking out between the hem of his frayed shirt and the top of his new jeans when he bends backward on the sofa, stopping when his back hits the armrest, arm dangling casually off the side.
Adam wants to laugh. "I don't think America's going to be bored by you."
* * *
Kris spends the entire time he watches Adam practice Ring of Fire fighting a smirk. After the first run-through, he jumps up, clapping gleefully and cheering.
Adam would guess he's about sixty percent serious.
"What do you think? Too much?"
He doesn't really care - the arrangement is great, he can sing the hell out of the song, and it's going to get people talking. But he's realistic too. In some ways, this is a popularity contest.
Kris sobers up straight away, slumping back into his chair with a thoughtful look on his face. "Hmm. Depends. Dialling it down next week?"
Adam bites back a smirk. "Maybe."
"You're fine," Kris says with a shrug and a smile. "Actually, you're so well prepared it makes everybody else look like complete amateurs. It's kind of awesome."
Of course, Simon ends up hating it, but it works out anyway, just like they'd talked about.
* * *
The door to the practice room is half open. Adam's just about to grab the handle when he hears the music.
At first he can't quite believe his ears - all the times he's heard Kris sing since the semi-finals, it's never sounded anything like this, low and sinuous and just the right amount of rough. Finally he has to open the door just to make sure it's actually Kris.
"Rain down, rain down, come on rain down on me - Adam. I didn't - when'd you come in?"
Maybe for the first time, he finds himself thinking what is this guy? Especially when Kris looks like he's been caught doing something embarrassing, as if doing awesome Radiohead covers in his spare time is a dirty secret.
"Why don't you do that when they let us pick whatever song we want?"
The honest appreciation in Adam's tone seems to chase off the embarrassment. Kris grins as he puts his guitar down and walks over to sit on the piano bench, a step away from Adam.
"Nah, not really my thing, you know. The judges would hate it. Here, listen to this."
And that's when Adam first hears Kris's Ain't No Sunshine.
* * *
Out of all of them, Adam's probably the most polished performer. It's not ego, it's just true. He's got the experience to back it up. Then there's Alli, the natural, who can light up a stage without even trying.
And Kris, well, he's a lot more of a pro than anybody thinks. Being able to come across as not performing at all, like he's making a song up on the spot, feeling every word, is its own kind of skill.
Adam thinks this as the rest of them all gather backstage to watch Kris's show-ending performance. Even on the small monitors, it feels almost voyeuristic seeing the emotion on his face as he plays the keyboard - but that's part of Kris's appeal too.
There's a lot of backslapping waiting for Kris when he's done, and it's ten, fifteen minutes before he makes his way over to Adam and Allison's couch for their usual super-dorky high-five routine. After that, they usually make space for him to sit, but this time he stays standing, beaming at Allison.
"I saw you with the guitar - that sounded awesome."
"Oh yeah, it was fun - except for the judges. I get the feeling those guys don't like me," Allison says with a laugh, no hint of self-pity but plenty of cynicism. "When they're judging me it's suddenly like Top Model up there."
She's right, it's bullshit, and Adam's about to rant at length along those lines - it wouldn't be the first time - when Kris shakes his head violently, bending down so he can grab Allison's hand and look right at her.
"Listen. It won't matter. I can't even listen to anything the judges say after you sing, my mind's still too blown. You're amazing. People will hear that."
Kris has this way of looking at people when he's fully present, mind and body, that makes the person feel like they're the only thing in his world. It's probably the main source of his super power of absolute, non-cheesy sincerity. Right now, it's making Allison smile despite herself.
Adam puts his arm around her and hugs her close, grinning at them both. "Aw, Kris, you big sap. He's right, though. Who cares what the judges say? You killed it."
* * *
Getting to sleep the night before a performance show is always a tall order. It's the combination of exhaustion and nerves, and it doesn't go away no matter how many times he tells himself that Mad World is going to work out great.
Somehow, Kris doesn’t have anything like that problem.
"I hate you. Stop being so relaxed unless you can teach it to me."
They're on his bed, and Kris's head is pillowed on Adam's upper thigh, because you're comfortable, stay still. He grins, eyes half closed.
"Oh, you know. I'm pretty easy."
Adam snickers and keeps petting his hair. "Seriously, I have to know - how are you getting the joints into the mansion?"
"What, I can't be this laid-back by nature?"
"I know laid-back. You're horizontal on a bad day."
"It's Arkansas, man. That's how we roll."
Adam makes a really great pained face - it's a shame Kris isn't looking, because it really should be appreciated by an audience. "Please never say that again."
"Oh, come on," Kris says, cracking his eyes open - too late! - and throwing his hands up. "Am I not gangsta enough for you?"
"Okay, that's it."
Last week, Allison made the awesome discovery that Kris was really, really ticklish, and they've been making great use of this vulnerability ever since. It only takes one arm to hold him down when he's breathless from laughter, too, which is really incredibly convenient for Adam, who can just dig the fingers of his other hand into Kris's side and wait - not very long - for him to start squirming and laughing.
Sure enough, Kris has to bury his face in the fabric of Adam's shirt, gasping for breath between giggles. "Alright, alright. Uncle!"
Adam relaxes his arms, because maybe Kris wants to move sometime soon, but that just makes Kris crawl up the length of his body and burrow in even closer, hands fisting in the frayed edges of Adam's shirt.
"Are you going to sleep here?"
Because yeah, it's great that they can be touchy-feely with no cringe factor at all, but this is going to become problematic real soon.
Kris braces himself on his elbows to look down at Adam, heavy-lidded, tongue swiping across his bottom lip, and it's times like these that make Adam wonder just how self-aware he is. "You don't mind, do you?"
(Whether he knows what he sounds like just now.)
"I don't know, you do have a lot of bony bits."
Kris laughs, making a show of digging his elbow into Adam's side as he's shifting around, but Adam's far too busy trying not to notice that Kris has gone from lying half on top of him to straddling him to appreciate the joke.
If they ever had any boundaries, this would definitely count as too close. Which reminds him, and hey, what an excellent distraction from trying not to freak his straight room mate out with his hard-on.
"Seriously, though. How do you do it?"
"Do what?"
Adam gestures broadly, or as broadly as he can with Kris attached to him. "Get this laid-back without chemical substances being involved."
Kris approximates a shrug. "Maybe I'm just naturally chill."
"No one is this naturally chill. You have blank spaces where other people have hang-ups."
It's true, and while it makes him the ideal room mate, Adam does wonder.
Kris laughs, inches from the shell of his ear. "Be honest - people or straight guys?"
Adam thinks about it for a moment. This is new territory for them, conversation-wise. "Straight guys, mostly. My point stands."
Kris gets up on his elbows again, expression cloudy and thoughtful. His words come slow, as if he's pondering each one. "When I was at college, some of the guys who hit on me when they got drunk would get super defensive when they sobered up. I never got why. It's not a big deal. If you like someone, you like them, right?"
In Adam's experience, it's more complicated than that, but he kind of likes Kris's worldview, and he's too tired to argue. They can have the awkward, banter-filled talk about sexual identity some other time.
Maybe the decision shows on his face, because Kris's eyes go from considering to affectionate, then he's leaning down to kissing Adam, slow and sleepy and sweet, lips parting easily to let him in when Adam licks at the chapped skin.
He's almost too tired to get turned on, and when they break apart to breathe, Adam just feels warm all over.
"Does this mean we need to talk?"
"Um, not tonight?" Kris laughs against his mouth. "Sleep. We've got a show to put on tomorrow."
* * *
After Mad World, he's barely stepped backstage before getting tackle-hugged by two small but ferocious bundles of energy, both Kris and Allison not even talking, just beaming at him.
Kris doesn't bring it up until they're almost ready to get packed off back to the mansion.
"Do you think I'm going home?" He doesn't sound torn up about it, just contemplative.
"Hell no."
"Definitely not."
Kris looks at Adam and Allison grinning at each other for a long moment before cracking his own smile.
"But the song sucked?"
Allison winces. "Yeah, man, it kind of did. Sorry."
Kris pats her on the shoulder. "Don't apologize for being honest. Adam never does."
"Hey!"
"I'm just so much nicer than he is."
He'd protest, but they're just so damn cute when they're snickering at each other.
* * *
The first time he meets Katy, Adam feels a little guilty for no reason. Which makes him kind of resentful, right up until she looks him up and down, intense and appraising and kind of like Kris had that first day, and grins like she's pleased.
"You are taking care of my boy for me, right?"
Then it's more like meeting a long-lost friend. A long-lost friend who's married to the guy he may or may not have a thing for and has the world's most adorable relationship with said guy -
"Ask him to show you the pictures from Italy sometime," she told him after they broke out the wine. "We sort of do things our own way."
- well, a little unconventional, maybe, but still adorable.
He and Katy agree on a lot of things - the best brand for black nail polish, the painfully addictive qualities of the Twilight books, Kris needing a stylist when he's not being dressed by the Idol people - and, apparently, that thin white shirts are wonderful things.
The Idol stylists have tried to make Adam wear some unflattering things, but whoever made this particular purchase deserves a pay rise. And another one for making Kris wear it. Adam gave up trying not to look ten minutes ago. Now, he's just trying for subtlety.
He glances over at Katy, just in time to see her trying to tone down her version of that same look, directed at the curve of Kris's back as he laughs at whatever Matt is saying.
When she catches him catching her, they both laugh. Adam leans down to high-five her and feels like he's sharing a secret.
Kris turns around in time to catch them in the act, his eyes widening in mock-terror. "Now I'm scared."
Katy grins. "Oh, you totally should be."
* * *
It's probably subconscious, but Kris is making a very elaborate production out of eating ice cream out of the container (the muted Family Guy episode on TV seemingly forgotten) when Adam comes into the lounge. Then again, he came back from dinner with Katy bright-eyed, hair mussed and mouth swollen and red, so it could just be excess energy. This stupid curfew is hell on all their sex lives.
When he spots Adam, Kris waves an extra spoon at him, pats the spot next to him on the couch, and well. Who is he to refuse that kind of invitation? He's a little dubious about the ice cream, though - everyone ends up stress-eating in the mansion, but Adam tries not to indulge too much. Kris has some very loud opinions about Adam's eating habits ("you eat less than me, Adam, that's just not right," "your freakish metabolism, that's what's not right,") so it's no surprise when he shifts until his thigh is pressed against Adam's and shoves the container and the spoon into his hands.
Also not particularly surprising these days: the intent way Kris watches him, when he gives in without a fight.
He's always blatant about looking and doesn't really mind being caught. It's nothing like the way some of the backstage guys look at Adam, curious and intrigued at the same time, as if Adam's the key to a secret they're not sure they want to know about. A lot of the time Kris acts like he already knows. Like it's not a big deal.
"What?"
Kris grins, his gaze dragging up from Adam's mouth to his eyes. "I like you," said in an undertone full of mischief, then he's reaching over to set the ice cream container aside, one hand warm on Adam's thigh, fingers spread out and thumb stroking the seam of his jeans as he leans forward.
Adam tilts Kris's head up with one hand on the back of his neck and the other cupping his cheek, licking a smear of ice cream from the corner of his smiling mouth. Kris's lips part as he shivers and Adam can't help diving in for more of the same sweet taste, the coldness of the ice cream and the wet warmth of Kris's tongue. It's languid and easy, because they're both bone-tired, and that's almost habitual by now. As they part, Kris slides his lips down Adam's jaw, light like the drag of velvet over skin until he bites down, not quite hard enough that there'll be marks, and giggles at Adam's shudder.
Adam slides his fingers into Kris's hair and tugs, only partly in retaliation, mostly so that he'll lay his head down on Adam's shoulder. Usually this is his cue to fall asleep.
When Kris starts laughing under his breath instead, Adam nudges him in the side. "What's so funny?'
It takes Kris a moment to collect himself. Then he's quiet, thinking.
"Just…I was thinking about that dance we were rehearsing today. I never thought I'd be doing anything like that in a million years. This entire thing is like an out of body experience."
That's probably true for everyone, no matter how much experience they have in the industry. This show's like nothing else.
Thinking back to the ridiculous spectacle that was this morning, Adam suddenly wants to laugh too. "You think we're going to look back on this and think 'what the fuck were we doing?'"
Kris makes a couple of faces - all of which involve wrinkling his nose - before settling on a grin. "Maybe about these stupid group numbers? Getting to meet you guys, though, that part's pretty cool."
Adam snickers. "American Idol: a good place to meet people. Who knew?"
"Shut up, you know what I mean."
"Awww, friends with benefits forever?"
Kris laughs so hard he nearly falls over, gasping for breath, all the while blushing right on cue.
It shouldn't be this easy, being in this nebulous space between friends and lovers. Maybe it's the enforced closeness of the mansion and sharing this entire crazy experience. Maybe if they'd met anywhere else, their relationship would be very different.
He can't really imagine it any other way.
* * *
As soon as they find out about the duets, Adam looks over at Allison and they agree without ever having to say anything. It makes sense for them to work together, and no one else is going to take it away.
He's ridiculously excited to do this - it's going to be perfect, he can feel it, and the anticipation even cuts through the constant fog of exhaustion. They're all going to kick ass and hopefully make the top 3. Which would be an amazing thing, no matter what they joked about all those months ago.
The only blot on the horizon is Kris alternatively trying to hide his disappointment and (when his mean streak surfaced) giving Adam the terrifyingly effective woe-is-me eyes.
"Come on, don't make that face at me. You're the best at handling Danny anyway."
Kris gives him a flat, considering look. When he smiles again, there's no teeth to it. "Sure. I'll work something out."
* * *
Kris wanders into the room while Adam's listening to Slow Ride on his iPod for what feels like the hundredth time, trying to get everything right.
"Where have you been? Danny's looking all over for you."
He'd even been desperate enough to come into Adam's room, a place he usually avoided like gay could be catching.
"Needed some alone time," Kris says quietly. "You know, my favourite thing about this stupid place is how easy it is to disappear in it."
Adam kind of agrees. The luxuries are nice, but the alone time's kept him sane.
"Shouldn't you be practising?"
Kris makes a face. "If he actually wanted to practice, I wouldn’t be hiding. I'm just sick of having the same conversation over and over."
People mistake easy-going for pushover, which is just stupid - Kris can be a nasty little bitch when he feels like it. One of Adam's fondest memories of this whole crazy year is the time Kris did his scary impression of an empty-headed pretty boy through an entire disastrous photo shoot (not even blinking once in the face of the asshole photographer's increasing frustration while Adam and Allison tried not to laugh their asses off).
All this means Adam's pretty sure he knows what Kris and Danny have been having arguments about. He'd almost walked in on the tail end of what was probably the first one, their second day in the mansion, checking himself outside the kitchen when he heard Kris's voice ringing with a cadence he'd never heard in it before.
"As it is written: there is none righteous, no, not one. I think that's my favourite right now, actually." A pause, then footsteps. When Kris spoke again, it was his usual soft mumble. "Good night, Danny."
Kris doesn't go out of his way to be nasty to Danny - in fact, Adam's pretty sure he tries really hard to be nice. It's just that Danny's attitude towards certain things - like, say, people like Adam - annoys him. Adam had tried to explain that he didn't give a fuck what Danny thought about his 'lifestyle choices' - it's not like this is an afterschool special and everybody has to learn their lesson before the credits roll. Kris just shrugged and said he couldn't help what got to him.
So Adam's learnt to recognise this brand of tenseness, along with what makes it go away.
"Come here."
Kris kind of drapes himself across Adam's lap, limbs sprawled carelessly, his voice low and deceptively soft when he speaks. "You left me with him. If I kill Danny before the performance, his blood will be on your hands. How are you going to sleep at night, Adam?"
Adam slips a hand up the back of his shirt, massaging along the curve of his spine, and tries not to laugh. "I think I'll live."
* * *
They're fucking around in the practice room while Alli's doing schoolwork. Kris is miming the riff for Whole Lotta Love on his electric guitar like he's in a Led Zeppelin cover band while the original song plays in the background, Adam mouthing along to save his voice. When the song ends, Kris collapses in a fit of giggles, breaking character at last, and Adam has a sudden thought.
"I know you're committed to the acoustic thing on the show, but - I'd love to see you really cut loose on stage some time."
Kris straightens, tossing him a sheepish grin. "Thanks. It's not gonna happen on live TV, though."
"Why not?"
"You know I hate performing at a camera."
You're in the top 4 on the biggest reality show on earth. "You do realize the irony in what you just said, right?"
"Yeah, yeah, shut up. You know what I mean."
Kris doesn't even have that difficult of a relationship with the camera - god knows it likes him enough. Maybe he doesn't have Adam's ease with it, but he does well enough ignoring its existence - hm.
"So you're not performing at a camera. You're performing at me. Go."
Kris stares at him for a moment, unsure as Adam's ever seen him. "I - um."
He crouches down to make sure his guitar is safely placed against the wall, and Adam's about to tell him to stop stalling when he straightens with a grin.
- and sings the first verse of Come Together at Adam, exactly as requested, eyes not leaving Adam's face the whole time.
They're close enough for Adam to count Kris's lashes by the end. "Got to be a joker he just do what he please…yeah," the last note stretched out as he sinks to his knees in one smooth motion, smiling up at Adam like an exotic circus animal that had just done a neat trick.
Adam lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Kris."
"Yeah?"
"Don't do that to Simon."
Halfway through pulling himself up by bracing his hands on Adam's hips, Kris almost chokes laughing.
"Thanks for that mental image. I'm probably not his type anyway."
* * *
Before the show, Kris gets up on his toes to whisper into Adam's ear, hands tight on his shoulders. "You're gonna kill up there. Ten bucks that Kara faints during Whole Lotta Love."
Adam laughs, which makes Kris look impossibly pleased with himself, which in turn makes Adam want to hug the breath out of him, so they do that for a while.
He feels great. It's not even confidence - more that he knows he's good at this, was always meant to do it, and only has to now go out in front of a massive television audience and let people see that.
No big deal.
* * *
After the results show, the ride back to the mansion is completely silent.
Kris falls asleep five minutes in, head pillowed on Adam's shoulder. He's been doing that a lot lately - taking naps whenever they're not rehearsing or practicing or doing press, snuggled up to the nearest warm body on the most comfortable surface he can find. (Usually Adam and a couch.) It's a combination of the stress and attrition getting to them all. Adam only wishes he could deal with it by napping, except this whole thing is actually messing with his body clock and he's having trouble falling asleep even at night.
Mrs Iraheta has her arms around Allison, who's sitting straight-backed, head held high, and has a smile for Adam whenever he can bear to look over at her.
Survivor's guilt is a bitch. But if Adam's feeling it, and he knows Kris is in pretty much the same state, he's also petty enough to enjoy the way Danny shrunk into his own corner as soon as they got backstage. He hasn't looked at Allison once since then.
Maybe even he thinks it shouldn't have been her.
* * *
At midnight, he wanders into the kitchen to find Allison seated on the counter, eating cookies. She scoots over to make space for him next to her, and he has to fight down the urge to make an excuse and leave.
No. Don't be a coward.
Being seated on the counter with only half the lights on makes him feel inexplicably young, like the insanely talented girl next to him. (Although the thought of sixteen-year-old him going on a show like Idol is enough to make him flinch. In a way, Allison is crazy mature for her age.)
Case in point:
"Guess our pact didn't work out. You know what this means, right?" She says, breaking the long silence, and she sounds normal, even cheerful.
"What?"
"You and Kris have to be top 2 now. If either of you mess it up, I'm going to kick your ass."
She shakes her fist at him, which is a little less menacing than it would be without the half-eaten cookie clutched in it. Adam laughs, feeling kind of light-headed. "Gotcha. Are you going to be okay?"
"No. Not okay. I'm going to kick ass," she says slowly, meaning it, and yeah. Of course she is.
* * *
He wakes up in the middle of the night to find Kris snuggled up against him, which is not at all unusual these days. Kris mumbling to himself, though, is.
"What are you - "
Kris cups his ear, bright smile visible even in the dark. "Are you there, God? It's me, Kris."
He lays his head back down in time to press his cheek against the tail end of Adam's laugh, rumbling through his chest. Adam strokes a hand over Kris's cheekbone, once, twice, then just leaves it there, fingers sprayed flat over the skin where he can feel Kris's mouth forming silent words.
Adam doesn't really believe in prayer, but he kind of wants to send a thank you note to the universe himself. Just for this moment.
* * *
Heartless is playing pretty much every single time Adam goes into Kris's room that week. Even he's sick of Kanye West by Tuesday.
The night before performances, the mansion is completely silent save for the whirring of far too many appliances and Kris's soft whisper in the dark.
"This is either going to be a train wreck or get me into the final."
Adam has to smile. "You don't do train wrecks."
There's no response, and for a while Adam thinks he's fallen asleep.
"I'm just really fucking tired, man," Kris finally sighs, burying his face in Adam's side. "Can't believe it's almost over."
"Yeah. Nearly there," Adam says, and he's tired too, which is the only excuse for the way those words come out. Too much there underneath for even Kris to miss.
He sits up, peering closely at Adam's face under the moonlight leaking through the windows.
"So tell me something. When you're a big-time rock star, are you still gonna return my calls?"
He's joking, but in the way that's really half-serious.
"I solemnly pledge to take time out of my busy schedule for you, as long as you do the same," Adam says carefully, fingers tracing along Kris's cheek until he finds the edge of his smile.
He's not joking at all.
"Done," Kris answers straightaway, moving the few extra inches necessary to press his lips against the corner of Adam's mouth, just enough for him to feel it. "And now it's a promise."
* * *
The first thing he sees the next morning when he opens his eyes is Kris making a ridiculous face, complete with bulging eyes and a demented grin. He offers his hand to pull Adam up, fingers twining with his and holding on tight.
"Hey. Come on, we've got this."
It's true. The world's not going to know what hit it.
Fin.
Notes:
1. The Bible passage partially quoted by Kris is Romans 3:10.
2. Michael Castro has talked about hearing Kris cover Paranoid Android by Radiohead during Hollywood Week, just for kicks. It's a crime that we don't have video of this, y/n?
Thank you for reading. As always all comments are appreciated, and I always reply.