Brand New Shoes

aka the blind date fic

The cafe is called Hot & Cool, and it has a really eye-catching, brain-bleeding, orange and bright red décor with leather seats and fluorescent lighting. Kris goes there almost every weekend, but not for the interior design. He goes for the coffee—the cheap coffee.

Sharing an apartment with two college students and one drunken bistro chef has taught Kris the value of alone time. He teaches third grade right now, filling in for Mrs. Silverman who fell down a flight of stairs and broke her leg, so he is covered during the week. Whatever time he doesn't spend in class with the kids, he spends in the teachers' lounge, making lesson plans, or in the library, reading, or in the yard, playing guitar. For someone who hated school with such passion growing up, he finds it very ironic that he now takes refuge in the place.

He tries to get gigs for the weekends, mainly because he has nothing better to do. He has no illusions of getting discovered and making it big anymore, but playing a couple of old classics to a crowd (ten people count as a crowd for him now) is still more exciting than anything else he has going on in his life, and the couple of bucks he makes on the side is always nice.

Whenever that doesn't work out—which is often—Kris comes to the Hot & Cool. It's better than staying at home. The coffee tastes like watered down tar, but it hasn't poisoned him yet, and the waitresses let him sit over a cup for hours. The A/C and the music are nice, and, unlike his apartment, there's no one there to accost him about completely insane stuff.

Not normally, anyway.

It's a Sunday when someone breaks Kris' routine. Kris is sitting in a booth, working on a song, and pretending to drink his cold, congealed, tarry coffee, when a guy plops down next to him, way too close for comfort, and puts an arm around his shoulders, warm and heavy.

"Don't scream," he tells Kris, a cheerfully fake smile stretching his lips wide.

Kris blinks in confusion and holds very still. He doesn't feel a gun or a knife or anything pressing into him, so that's... good. Considering.

"Okay," Kris says.

The guy's face—very close to Kris'—changes suddenly; the creepy smile softens, and the look in his blue eyes turns sheepish. "I'm really sorry about this," he says, surprisingly sincere. "I'm not crazy or anything, I promise. If you could just pretend you know me for a couple of minutes, you'd be saving my life, I swear."

Action movie scenarios scroll through Kris' mind. Saving his life from what? Terrorists? Kidnappers? Terminators? But before he can ask, the guy answers his question for him, and of course it turns out it's nothing that exciting anyway.

"My brother set me up with this guy," he says, making a comical, horrified face, "and he looks like an axe-murderer. There is no way I'm going anywhere with him. So if you could help me sneak out of here before I get spotted, I'd be very, very grateful."

"Umm, okay," Kris says, sliding a little down the booth so the guy isn't sitting practically in his lap.

"I'm Adam, by the way," the guy says, sliding down with Kris, and settling, again, overwhelmingly close to him.

Kris sighs and shakes his hand under the table.

~

They sneak out of the café with Adam trying to hide behind Kris' guitar, which is physically impossible considering his size, but Adam doesn't seem to care much about things not making sense. Like, for example, how it doesn't make sense for them to stay together after they get out. Adam just grabs Kris' hand and tells him to run. Then he pulls him down the street, completely disregarding all his protests, and doesn't stop until they are a good block away from Hot & Cool.

Kris adjusts his guitar strap and tries to catch his breath.

"I think we're clear," Adam tells him, looking worried and unbelievably earnest.

Kris can't bring himself to yell at him. "I think we were clear the second we left the café," he says instead. "And by we, I mean you, because the guy didn't know or care about me anyway."

Adam shakes his head. "You never know," he says darkly. "He was wearing axe-murderer shoes, I'm telling you."

Then he turns around and pulls Kris towards another café. Kris meekly follows him.

~

Adam buys Kris a coffee that is hot and doesn't smell or taste at all like tar, which makes Kris immediately forgive him for all his past and future sins, and an Orange Mango Banana Vivano for himself, whatever the hell that is. They sit at an outside table, Adam running across the street first to buy a black and white baseball hat to hide himself better from the man with the axe-murderer shoes. The hat makes him look stupid, which puts Kris at ease for some weird reason.

"So," Kris says, taking a sip from his coffee. "What do axe-murderer shoes look like? For future reference."

Adam makes a slurping sound as he lets go of the straw. His eyes grow slightly larger. "They're like large and black and clunky." He shudders. "And really cheap fake leather!"

Kris must have looked skeptical, because Adam waves a hand to say it's a long story.

"I can't explain it. I just have this gift. I can tell."

"You can tell murderers from their shoes?"

"No," Adam says, rolling his eyes. "I can do character analysis from people's shoes."

"Huh." Kris has certainly heard weirder things. Though not many.

"Like yours," Adam says, kicking Kris' left foot to nudge it to the side where they can both see it. "It says you're a humble guy, you don't care a lot about how you look, and you're one-hundred percent straight."

Kris stares at his sneakers; they're old and scuffed, and they're pretty average. All they tell him is that he doesn't have enough money to buy a new pair.

Adam smirks. "Am I right?"

Kris doesn't nod, but Adam's smirk grows larger anyway.

"Look at him," Adam says, pointing towards a man in a black suit. "Trying to impress, but not bright enough to pull it off." He shakes his head. "Doomed to failure."

Then he turns to the right a little and points to a guy listening to music. "Dirty and untidy. Possibly smelly."

Warming up to the subject, Adam gives Kris a smirk and goes faster, pointing at people left and right.

"Cheater."

"Virgin."

"Fake humanitarian."

"Ugly."

"Slut."

"Wow," Kris says, impressed despite his complete lack of belief. Just the fact that Adam thinks he can analyze people like that is remarkable—even if it's all wrong.

"See," Adam says, "told you I could do it."

There's something very childish about Adam's pride in his ability, Kris finds himself smiling back to him. "What about your shoes?" he asks.

Adam thunks his foot down on the empty chair next to Kris. He's wearing a pair of snakeskin boots that make his feet look huge.

"Cocky. And very, very gay."

~

Despite Kris' protests that he isn't hungry, Adam gets them both sandwiches. This isn't very appropriate if you ask Kris, nor is it rational for him to be sticking around, but Kris doesn't have anything better to do, and Adam obviously doesn't mind hanging out with him—instead of finding his brother and killing him, which he says he will be doing as soon as he sees him—and the coffee is damn good. Best he's had in ages, really.

It's probably a good thing that Kris will never be telling anyone about this. His reasons would never fly. They don't even make sense in his own head.

Kris doesn't know what to make of Adam. He is crazy, that's for sure, but he also has a warm smile, and he's easy to talk to, and Kris feels oddly comfortable with him. Kris is the kind of person who gets along with almost everyone, but he doesn't remember when he last felt this kind of instant fondness toward a complete stranger. It must have been when he was still a kid.

There's also something very familiar about Adam that Kris can't quite put his finger on.

"Let me see the song," Adam says, extending a hand out over the table and snapping his fingers impatiently.

"What?"

"You were working on a song. I saw your notes. Let me see."

Kris stares at Adam; Adam's lips are pursed and he has crumbs down the front of his black t-shirt. His attitude should be annoying; he is such a spoiled brat, used to having his own way, but it's impossible to be angry with that face—it's like trying to be mad at a puppy.

Kris takes out the crumpled sheets from his jacket pocket and hands Adam the one he's been working on. "You into music?" he asks, just to have something to say as he waits for Adam to stop squinting at his handwriting.

"You could say that."

"You write any yourself?"

Adam makes a face. "Very badly."

"I'm not any good at it myself. It's just a hobby."

Kris can feel something inside him moan and thrash every time he calls music just a hobby, but he does it anyway, just to spite that creature living inside his chest. Because it is just a hobby now. That's the reality. He has finally grown up enough to acknowledge that—wouldn't Katy be proud?

"Well, this looks damn good," Adam says, handing him back the sheet with a flourish. "Too damn good to just be a hobby. What do you do?"

Kris smiles wryly. "I'm a substitute teacher."

"Really? Huh." Adam shakes his head. "You don't look like a teacher." He looks Kris up and down. "Not like any of my teachers anyway."

Kris has a feeling that he's blushing. He sincerely hopes he's wrong about that. "Where do I know you from?" he asks Adam, flustered and trying to change the subject.

Adam smirks. "MTV?" he asks playfully, one eyebrow raised high.

"MTV." Kris blinks. Is he a host or something? He tries to place the face, but he just can't.

Adam sighs, disappointed. "I released an album six months ago," he says with a pout. "Glamorize?" His face falls even more when Kris doesn't seem to remember. "I had a video. I Got This? With the hitchhiker—"

It hits Kris like a ton of bricks. "With the pink shorts! I remember that." Then he looks at Adam and puts the two images together. "Jesus."

Adam gives him a fake smile and says, "Ta-da!"

Kris remembers that song. It had ridiculous lyrics and no real music, and the video... It actually made Kris kind of glad that he never did make it big, if it meant he'd be working with people who thought putting guys in tight and brightly colored clothes would make an album sell.

Looking at Adam's slightly uncomfortable face, Kris tries to come up with something to say, something nice, or at least polite, because Adam is not at all what he would have expected just from seeing that video. He is not at all as flamboyant as advertised, or as stupid. And thankfully, he doesn't dress half as badly as he did there. But there's not enough substance in the song or the video to build a compliment on—not one Kris can deliver with a straight face anyway.

"I'm sorry, man," he says, finally. "It just wasn't my thing."

Adam leans back in his chair and shrugs. "It was no one's thing. Not even mine."

Kris chuckles, glad that Adam isn't taking offense.

"But it was the only way I could get myself out there, you know." Adam gives him the look again; wide-eyed, earnest, innocent and completely unreal. Kris nods, even though he doesn't think he actually understands. "And it worked... to an extent. I mean, the album tanked, but I made some money from it." He grins. "Bought my first new car with it. My baby."

He takes out his phone and scrolls through the pictures, then turns it around to show Kris the picture of a black Mustang with white stripes.

"Wow," Kris says, impressed. "It's a beauty, all right."

"Yes, she is," Adam states with pride. "I don't get to drive it, but she's mine, no installments, no nothing."

Kris gives him a confused look and Adam's face turns sheepish.

"Can't afford the gas right now."

Kris cracks up, almost snorting coffee out of his nose. Adam joins him.

~

Apparently, all Adam got out of his album deal was his baby and a ton of shoes. He says he can barely put together enough money to pay his rent right now, and he buys his groceries with the gift cards his mother keeps slipping to him. He looks chagrined and amused, but not really devastated, and Kris tells himself that music doesn't have to be the be-all end-all of everyone's existence.

"What's really sad is that I'm not even a one-hit wonder, because none of those songs were ever hits."

"Some things are not meant to be," Kris says, mostly thinking of himself and his own dreams, but also of all the people he's met since he came to LA, doing menial jobs and waiting for their break. Most of them don't even get the chance Adam did.

"No," Adam says, pulling him out of his thoughts. "I don't believe that. It's going to happen. One day. I'm meant for this. I was built for singing and performing."

Kris doesn't say anything, but his face probably shows his doubts about that one, because Adam is staring at him, all huge eyes, taken aback and horrified.

"You don't think I can sing?"

Kris shakes his head, stumbling over his words to say that's not what he meant at all, when actually it kind of was. Adam doesn't buy a word of his—possibly incomprehensible—speech. Instead, he squares his shoulders, stands up, and pulls Kris up without warning.

Kris has just enough time to grab his guitar, and off they go again, Adam walking down the street hurriedly, dragging Kris behind him. Kris looks back at their table wistfully, and waves goodbye to his coffee cup, getting smaller and smaller with every step.

~

Adam takes them to a jazz bar called Le Jazz, which appears to be looking for employees right now and promises free WiFi, and live music three nights a week. They go inside without a pause; Adam seems to know his way around the place. A long corridor and two flights of stairs take them to a dimly lit room, with deep blue walls and wooden tables. There's a bar on one side and a small stage next to it. Kris spots the piano right away and his fingers itch to touch it; the guitar was always his favorite, so it surprises him how much he misses playing the piano.

"Hey, Joe," Adam greets the old man behind the bar with a happy smile, but Joe doesn't seem particularly enthusiastic about seeing him.

"What're you doing here, Lambert?"

"Can I use your stage for a couple of minutes? Just one song. I promise."

The cute face Adam is trying to pull isn't working on Joe. The man looks Kris over and gives Adam an unimpressed glare. "None of your stupid songs," he says.

"Deal," Adam agrees easily. Kris feels like defending Adam's songs, but the one he heard had no redeeming qualities whatsoever, so he doesn't even try.

"Come on." Adam pulls him towards the stage and grabs a bunch of sheet music from the side. "Let's go with one of Joe's preapproved songs." He hands them all to Kris. "You pick. Whatever you can play with the guitar is fine by me."

Kris gazes at the piano longingly. "Can't we use the piano?"

Adam stops fiddling with the mic stand and looks at him. "You can play?"

Kris nods, stupidly proud in the face of Adam's surprise.

"Go right ahead," Adam says magnanimously.

Joe's preapproved songs are all pretty cool, lots of jazz and R&B, all classics. Kris knows most of them by heart and is dying to play any one of them; just the thought of getting his fingers on the keys is enough to get him squirming on the bench in excitement. He tries to pick a relatively easy song, though jazz is never easy to sing if you don't have the voice for it. He doesn't want to insult Adam with his song choice, but he doesn't want the guy to feel bad afterwards either. In the end, he finds a compromise.

"How about this one?" he asks Adam, showing him the sheet in his hand. It's ‘They Can't Take That Away From Me,’ a perfectly good classic.

"That's for pussies," Adam informs him and leans over him to go through the songs himself.

Kris tries to scoot away, but Adam's arms are coming over both his shoulders, so he's trapped where he is with nowhere to go. He sighs and resigns himself to his fate. Adam obviously has personal space issues. At least he smells nice—like vanilla and some kind of flower.

"This one," Adam says, pulling one of the sheets out of the pile.

Kris stares at his choice and blinks a couple of times, trying to register what he's seeing. "You want to sing Aretha?"

Adam smirks and steps toward the microphone. "Just shut up and play it, Allen."

Kris opens his mouth to tell Adam how bad an idea this is, considers lying even, saying he can't play that song, but then he takes in the swagger of Adam's steps and the way he's holding the microphone, and stops. At this hour, only one table is occupied in the whole place, so even if Adam makes a fool of himself, it won't be too bad. Kris tells himself to forget about Adam's possible future mortification and enjoy the keys under his fingers.

Adam clears his throat. "Ladies," he says into the microphone, looking towards the booth where five women in their early thirties are seated drinking multi-colored cocktails, then turns to the bar, "and Joe. As a special treat to you today, I'm going to sing you a classic. 'I Never Loved A Man (The Way I Love You).'"

Joe rolls his eyes. Adam sends him a kiss. Kris' fingers begin to dance on the keys.

And then Adam starts singing and brings the house down with his voice.

~

By the end of the song, three of the women are on their feet, and they're all singing along. When Adam's voice fades with the last note, their claps echo in the almost empty room, making it sound like there's a whole crowd and not just a couple of people in the audience. Adam thanks them with a bow and a soft laugh, before he turns around to face Kris.

"So?"

Kris stares at him, hopefully not open-mouthed, and nods stupidly. Adam is slightly sweaty now, his black, straightened hair is pushed back from his face, and he looks faintly worried about what Kris might say. Kris' brain can't quite make sense of the fact that the man with the pink shorts, singing that idiotic song about candy, is the same man who has been cocky and sweet and hesitant by turns today, and that he has a voice like... like no one else Kris has ever heard before—not live anyway.

Kris' fingers start moving on the keys and he starts playing ‘Amazing.’ "Sing this one," he says.

Adam waits, unmoving, eyes fixed on the piano, trying to place the song, and he gives Kris a brilliant smile when he does. "Joe," he says into the microphone, without looking away from Kris' eyes. "One more song?"

The ladies cheer from their table and Kris sees Joe wave at Adam dismissively from behind the bar. Then Adam starts singing, with his back to the audience this time, and he sounds even better than the first time around.

~

"Say it," Adam says, sitting next to him on the bench and taking a long swig from the bottle of beer Joe brought over.

"You can sing," Kris says graciously.

"Thank you."

Kris isn't a big drinker, so he only sips occasionally from his beer—which Adam eventually confiscates, saying he's wasting it—and they continue sitting there for a long time, Kris playing whatever comes to him, more jazz and Beatles and Queen, and they sing a couple of songs together, Adam bringing his voice down to match Kris', and they don't even notice the place slowly filling up until Adam's phone rings and brings them both back down to earth.

"Shit! What time is it?"

Kris feels a pang, listening to Adam's side of the conversation. He wouldn't be exaggerating if he said this has been the most fun he's had in possibly ever, and he doesn't want it to end yet. But Adam sounds like he has places to be and Kris can't very well invite himself along. He thinks about asking for Adam's number or something, but the man is gay, and that would just sound... weird.

"Yeah, we're gonna have a talk about Kevin when I get there," Adam says into the phone, his voice going growly. Kris busies himself with the bundle of sheet music, straightening them out, unnecessarily slow and careful.

"I can be there in 30 minutes, I think. Tell Mom I got stuck in traffic or something." Adam pauses, listening, and then looks around in alarm. "What am I supposed to bring? I can't bring any—ooh, I can bring wine."

~

"It's this stupid dinner thing," Adam explains once he gets off the phone. "My dad is in town with his girlfriend, and we're doing dinner, but my mom doesn't want it to be awkward, so she wants everyone to bring a date as well." He rolls his eyes. "Which makes everything more awkward, if you ask me. Neil has a girlfriend, so he's covered, but when I said I didn't have a date, my mom insisted on setting me up with someone, and Neil said he knew a guy, and... "

"The man with the axe-murderer shoes happened," Kris finishes for him.

"Yeah," Adam says. "Kevin whatshisface. Neil's gonna pay for that one." He sighs. "Now I'm gonna go alone, and Mom is gonna make me miserable all night."

"You should take a friend," Kris says. "Compromise."

Adam's back straightens suddenly. "You could come!"

"What?"

Adam's eyes gleam in the semi-darkness. "You could. You're totally my type, and none of them know you. It's perfect." Seeing Kris' frozen face, Adam slows down a little. "If you want to, of course. I mean, if you have nothing else to do."

Awkward, Kris thinks. So, so awkward.

He wants to help Adam out, but pretending to be his boyfriend? That's a recipe for disaster. And his family sounds all kinds of crazy, which should be no surprise, really; Adam had to have gotten it from somewhere. Kris should just go home, hang out in his room like he does every night, play a little guitar, maybe. He tries to weigh the pros and the cons, boring vs. awkward, normal vs. crazy, Adam vs. no Adam, and what it all comes down to is, he can't make a decision when Adam is looking at him all hopeful like that, so he says screw it and nods.

"Okay."

"Yay!" Adam says, wiggling a happy dance, and gives him a quick hug.

When he pulls back, he squeezes Kris' shoulders, and skips away towards the bar to get a bottle of wine. Kris stares at his back and thinks he probably just got himself into something seriously complicated.

~

Adam's mother lives in a nice condo not very far away from where Kris lives. On the way over there, Adam tells Kris things about his family, most of which don't make it through the fog of fear and dread that's surrounding Kris at the moment, but what he does hear, he tries to take note of. He learns the names: Amy and Eber, Neil and Becky, Leila and her nameless date; he learns that they're Jewish, though not religious; he learns that he is to pretend to be the guy Neil set Adam up with, because Leila would have Adam's balls if she finds out he ditched the guy on the first date.

The cab ride lasts not nearly long enough, and when they get there, Adam takes Kris' hand in his, whispering to him, "Is this okay?"

Kris doesn't tell him about the nerves or the butterflies or the first-day-of-school feeling; he tells himself to man up instead, and makes himself say, "Sure."

Adam pays for the cab, and pulls Kris towards the building by the hand. Kris follows. He's been doing just that all day; it's becoming a habit now.

~

Leila is a sincere and easy-to-like person, much like her son, and the motherly hug she gives Kris puts him immediately at ease. Adam whispers in his ear that he has to go talk to Neil real quick, probably to warn him about Kris being pretend-Kevin, and abandons him to meet everyone else alone, but despite all his worrying, it doesn't go half as bad as Kris expected.

Neil's girlfriend Becky and Leila's date Arnold both seem a little nervous, much like Kris himself, so Kris doesn't feel like a sore thumb. Amy is the only standoffish person in the room, and even her attitude is due to the awkwardness of the situation and not her own character, Kris can tell. Kris has always been a people person, so after a couple of minutes with the group, he feels himself slowly relaxing, letting his smile unfreeze and his jaw unclench.

He carries his guitar over to a corner in the living room, where Eber and Amy are already seated, drinking wine and chatting, and goes into the kitchen to see if he can help. Keeping busy would definitely make him feel better, or less like he doesn't belong anyway.

"Oh, we have more than enough hands, honey, don't you worry," Leila says, shooing him away.

Not wanting to intrude on the couple in the living room, Kris takes a chair at the kitchen table and watches Leila direct Arnold and Becky, Arnold making the salad, and Becky putting what looks like a lasagna together. After she makes sure they are doing what they're supposed to be doing and doing it right, she steals a couple of carrot sticks from the salad and sits down next to Kris.

"Want one?"

Kris takes the offered carrot stick and munches on it slowly.

"This must be odd, being here on your first date."

It takes Kris a second to realize she's talking to him, but when he does, he immediately shakes his head no. "It's okay."

"No, you know, it's my fault. I was the one that insisted on Adam bringing a date, but I mean, he always leaves too early when he comes alone, and we don't get to spend a lot of time together, all of us. I see Adam all the time, but having the whole family together is important, too."

Kris nods. "I have a pretty large family, so I know how it is."

"Ours isn't very large, but we're demented enough to make up for it." She puts a hand on Kris' arm, affectionate and friendly. "You look like a really nice guy. I hope we don't scare you off."

"Oh, no—" Kris begins, but is interrupted by Adam entering the kitchen.

"Mom, you promised."

Leila raises her hands up in surrender. "I didn't do anything."

"No interrogations! I'm not a kid."

"I wasn't!" Leila insists. "Ask Kris. I didn't do anything."

Adam stands over Kris with a hand on his shoulder and looks down, questioning. Kris smiles up at him. "We were just eating carrots," he says, showing the carrot stick in his hand as an alibi.

Adam narrows his eyes and studies Kris' face for a second; Kris smiles even wider at the suspicious look. Then Adam holds Kris' wrist to bring his hand up and steal a bite of the carrot. "Okay," he says, nodding seriously, like he made an important decision.

Kris feels like he's missing something. He eats the rest of his carrot in silence.

~

Dinner is delicious and everyone relaxes with the help of wine and good food. Becky doesn't talk much, but laughs in all the right places, Arnold and Eber at least try to have a conversation even though they don't seem to have anything at all in common, and Amy isn't half as bitchy as she looks when you get her loosened up. They ask Kris about the guitar, which means he gets to give the music-as-a-hobby speech again, but other than that, they don't pry much into his life, possibly because of Adam's interrogation rule, or maybe because they feel it unfair since it's supposedly their first date.

"No, Mom, seriously. I can't eat another bite," Adam objects when Leila tries to give him another piece of the lasagna. "I've put on too much weight already."

Leila rolls her eyes and places the full plate in front of him anyway.

"Come on, Adam, you know better than that," Amy scolds him, looking way angrier than the comment warranted. "You look great. You don't have to be skinny or whatever size is in this year."

"Adam constantly worried about his weight growing up," Eber tells Kris.

Adam groans. "Really? We're doing the 'embarrass Adam' thing now?"

"We have to, seeing as how we did it to Neil when he first brought Becky to meet us," Leila says, her eyes twinkling.

Neil smirks at Adam. "Payback is a bitch, isn't it?"

Adam closes his eyes and sighs. "I hate you all."

Kris can't stop smiling, but just to make it clear that he's not making fun of Adam, he puts a hand on Adam's arm and squeezes.

Adam turns to look at him. "I was a gay kid with ginger hair and freckles, and I was fat."

"You weren't fat!" Leila interjects, but Adam doesn't stop to acknowledge her.

"I liked dressing up and singing. So I had more issues than friends."

Kris' smile dims considerably. He doesn't like this not-crazy, not-happy version of Adam. It doesn't feel right. "I like your freckles," he says—and he does. They don't look weird or ugly on Adam; they suit him.

Adam perks up immediately. "You do?"

"Aww," Amy says. "They're too cute."

Kris turns around to find that everyone's stopped eating and are staring at the two of them with wide smiles. He feels his cheeks burning.

"Adorable," Leila agrees.

"Are you trying to make him run?" Adam asks Leila, exasperated. "I'm so sorry," he says to Kris, shaking his head. "They just won't behave."

"It's okay," Kris says with a shrug. "I mean, I am cute."

Adam stares at him, surprised, and then he starts laughing, which quickly spreads around the table. Kris feels proud of having broken the ice and the cycle of embarrassment in the room, but then he feels Adam's hand on his cheek, turning his face, and thinks maybe he was rash in thinking the embarrassment over.

Adam leans down to kiss the corner of his mouth, soft and chaste. His lips feel dry and warm against Kris' skin. Then he runs his finger over the same spot, and says, "You are cute."

Kris manages a small smile before he looks down and gets back to his food, trying very hard to hide the fact that he is quietly freaking out.

~

Kris plans to not talk about himself, but that lasts for about half an hour, and then he absentmindedly lets it slip that he's been to Thailand when Amy mentions wanting to go, which means he ends up telling them very briefly about his missions around the world, which brings up the topic of religion that thankfully no one goes into in depth, but then they feel free to ask more questions, and despite his ‘no interrogation’ policy, Adam doesn't stop them. When Kris sneaks a peek at him, he sees that Adam is listening closely, though his face is closed up and impossible to read.

Kris has this impending doom feeling inside him, and thinks he's about to screw up the whole night any second, but there's no backing off now; he has to see this through. This night isn't really about him; these people won't see him ever again, so he tells himself to make it count for Adam. If he's going to be a pretend-boyfriend, then he should be the best pretend-boyfriend he can be.

"Hey," he says, nudging Adam with his shoulder and putting a hand over Adam's on Adam's thigh. "You okay?"

Adam looks at him, his head tilted like a confused dog, his eyes slightly narrowed. Then he shakes it off and smiles, turning his hand over to lace their fingers together. A shiver runs down Kris' spine at the touch; it's been way too long since he last had a girlfriend.

"Yeah," Adam says and drops a quick kiss to his cheek. No one goes aww this time, they're all busy talking and eating, so Kris lets himself linger in the moment and enjoy the feeling. He hasn't done any of this in a long, long time. He misses his family; he misses being close to someone. He thinks he owes Adam thanks for sharing this with him, even if just for one night, but how awkward would it be to say something like that out loud?

"I sometimes miss Adam's natural hair color, but who am I to talk? I dye my hair, too," Leila says, probably continuing from a conversation Kris missed the beginning of. "I'm just glad he doesn't show up at my door with orange hair anymore." She laughs around her fork, giving Adam an impish look.

"That was an accident," Adam says, laughing along. "I thought we were done with the embarrassment part of the evening! I don't see anyone talking about my mad acting skills, or my awards or anything! You guys suck. I need a new family."

"Just wait until I break out the baby pictures," Leila says, winking at Kris, and Kris pets Adam's arm in mock-compassion.

Then Neil asks Eber something about kitchen renovations, and the topic changes to houses and mortgages, and Kris listens without really paying attention. Adam's hand rests on his knee under the table and Kris leans against his shoulder, and they pretend.

~

"You're not at all like any of his ex-boyfriends," Leila says in the kitchen, while they're stacking the dishwasher.

Kris feels disappointed for some weird reason. Adam had said Kris was his type, but that was probably a white lie he told to make Kris agree to come along. It doesn't really matter anyway. It's not like Leila's going to point a finger at him and yell, 'Liar!'

"He's growing up, I think," she says with a fond smile. "And it was about time he started making some sensible choices."

Kris gives her a polite smile in return, but feels sick to his stomach. He is lying to these people, and he is not even Adam's type. He is the sensible choice. Adam doesn't seem to him like he'd make sensible choices. Kris has seen some pictures around the apartment, but none of Adam with a boyfriend, and when he tries to picture what Adam's ex-boyfriends might have looked like, Kris comes up with a parade of young Hollywood stars. Adam likes pretty things—shiny and flashy things, like his car. Kris is so dull in comparison to a Mustang, even Leila has noticed the break in pattern.

Placing the last of the plates in the dishwasher, Kris shakes his head to clear his mind of the stupid thought. He's not gay. He doesn't want to be Adam's boyfriend. And Adam doesn't want him as a boyfriend, either. This whole ruse is messing with his head.

What he's feeling is not really about Adam. It's about Kris finally seeing how dreary his life has become in the last couple of years. The Lamberts are nice people, they are beautiful and crazy and energetic and so very colorful—and Kris' life has been devoid of color for years now. He'd thought he was doing okay, standing on his own two feet, making sensible—adult—choices, but what he's been doing is trapping himself into a corner.

After telling Katy that he was feeling trapped in Arkansas, and packing up and moving to LA, it's really ironic that he managed to do this to himself again.

Leila leads him back to the living room, and Kris goes along, feeling dazed, as if in a dream, with the onslaught of emotions. Neil is sitting on the floor, leaning back against Becky's legs; there aren't enough seats for everyone. So Kris moves toward the corner where he put his guitar to sit down next to it, but Adam grabs his hand on the way and pulls him down into the armchair he's sitting in. He tries to make room for Kris, but he's a large guy, so Kris ends up sitting half in his lap anyway. He gives Adam a dirty look, feeling self-conscious, sitting there like someone's teenage girlfriend, but Adam just puts an arm around his shoulder and pulls him in until Kris is snuggled close against his body. Kris looks around, but no one's paying them any attention, and why should they, when the two of them are supposedly dating—though Kris is pretty sure almost-lap-sitting wouldn't be appropriate even on a gay first date.

Someone hands him a glass of wine, which Kris lets Adam take sips from until it's gone, and he slowly melts into the leather of the chair. It's a comfortable chair, and Adam's body is perfect to lean against. Kris feels warm and cozy, and when he lets himself forget that none of this is actually meant for him—not the laughter or the affection—he almost feels happy.

~

Eber writes bad poetry, Leila is an interior decorator, Arnold is a lawyer, Amy has biting commentary on any topic, Neil is sarcastic and scarily intelligent, and Becky plays the cello. This last one pulls Kris out of his funk and makes him rejoin the conversation. He and Becky talk about their favorite concertos, and Kris admits to not having touched his viola in months. Becky says they should get together and play someday and Kris nods before he remembers that that would probably never happen.

"How are you so perfect?" Adam asks him, laughing, and Kris feels the vibrations of his laughter.

"I'm not perfect," he mumbles, rolling his eyes. He may be sensible, but he is nowhere near perfect. Just today, he came up with a list of flaws as long as his arm. He has no direction, no ambition, no real friends, and he makes bad choices... the list goes on and on.

"Yes, you are," Adam says, running his hand over Kris' forehead and pushing his hair back. Kris watches his lips purse in concentration, and his eyes shine a brighter blue in the light. His hand travels down Kris' cheek and stops at his jaw, holding his face and tilting it up. Then his lips meet Kris', opening them up, giving him a simple, but real, kiss. It lasts just a second, just a lingering touch, and Kris doesn't get a chance even to think about whether he should be responding or not. When Adam pulls back, his face looks worried, searching Kris' eyes, probably looking for anger, but Kris just gives him a smile, and turns his attention back to the room.

He holds onto the warmth in his chest for as long as he can. He doesn't even know which parts of this are pretend anymore.

­-

Kris is in the bathroom, staring into the mirror, when the door opens and Adam sneaks inside. Kris wonders for a second what he would've done if Kris had been peeing or something, but the way Adam is nervously biting his lip pulls him away from that thought.

"What's wrong?" he asks, grabbing the towel to dry his face.

Adam comes to stand next to him and takes the towel from his hands. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Kris says, shrugging. He looks back into the mirror; the face staring back at him is tired and depressed. He has bruises under his eyes and his hair is a mess, he doesn't think he even brushed it when he woke up. But on a scale of suicidal to Grammy-winner, he's pretty sure he'd land on fine.

Adam pushes Kris' hand away from his hair and styles it himself, wetting his fingers. Kris just stands there and lets him.

"I'm sorry if I crossed a line," Adam says, sneaking a glance at him. "You're doing this huge favor for me, and I don't want to use your friendship like that."

"You're not the one doing the using," Kris mumbles.

When Kris looks back at him, Adam has a hopeful and stunned expression on his face. He takes a step closer, his hand resting warmly on Kris' shoulder, and leans in until their noses are touching. Kris remembers to pull back at the last second.

"That's not—I just—" He breathes in deep and says, "You were right. About my shoes."

It takes Adam a moment to get it. "Oh," he says, his lips curving up to shape a wistful smile. "Of course I was."

Kris puts a hand on his arm and gets back into his personal space—which he realizes he hasn't left almost all day. He doesn't want Adam to think that he did something offensive. Kris didn't mind the touching. Kris didn't mind the touching a little too much, maybe.

"I'm really glad you invited me. Your family is awesome. I really had fun."

"You had fun," Adam intones. "And you look like someone ran over your cat."

 "No, seriously. I just... miss my family... and stuff." He shrugs. He's not going to dump his depression on Adam, too. He's been clumsy enough with Adam's feelings already.

Adam's face crumples a little. "Oh, I'm so sorry." He tugs Kris closer to hug him, tucking Kris' head under his chin. Kris grabs onto his waist and sighs. He doesn't know about gay sex vs. straight sex and stuff like that, he was never very experimental sexually, but he decides that the gay men have the better end of the deal when it comes to hugging. Adam's arms are strong and that makes a huge difference. Plus, there's so much of him to hug.

"You know," Adam says, swaying them slightly. "I like your shoes."

Kris snorts into his chest.

"Seriously. I think your shoes and my shoes can be great friends." His arms tighten around Kris before he lets him go and takes a step back. "If it's okay with you, I mean."

"My shoes would like that," Kris says.

~

Eber makes fun of them when they come out of the bathroom together, and Kris promptly blushes. Neil gives them confused looks that Kris does his best to avoid. Kris sees him having a silent conversation with Adam over his head, but he doesn't worry himself too much about it; he knows how it is to have a brother.

Leila has served dessert while they were gone. Adam moans as he grabs his plate. "Chocolate chip trifle," he tells Kris, as if that explains everything.

"I spit in yours," Neil taunts him.

Adam narrows his eyes and noisily eats a spoonful.

Leila kicks Neil on the shin; the disapproving mom look on her face reminds Kris so much of his own mother that his hand goes to his cell to call her and beg for an apple pie. Instead, he eats his dessert and tells Leila about his mother's love of baking. Leila makes excited noises about meeting her one day, and Adam coughs meaningfully, making her roll her eyes.

"I can see how much you guys like each other," she tells him. "It's not like you're going to let him go easily."

Adam groans and whispers an apology to Kris. "It's okay," Kris says, making sure no one's eavesdropping. "You like my shoes, I like your shoes. We're cool."

~

Arnold leaves first, saying he has to be at court early tomorrow, and Becky and Neil follow soon after. Kris hugs them all goodbye and then hangs back to enjoy the moment; everyone gathered around, talking about when they're next going to see each other. Eber pats Neil on the back, whispering something in his ear, and Leila makes Becky promise to drop by soon. Kris is contemplating Becky's shoes when Adam's arms wrap around his waist from behind.

"What do Becky's shoes say?" he asks, feeling Adam's chin rest on his shoulder.

"That it's not gonna work out."

Kris looks at them again; he doesn't see what Adam does. "I'm sorry," he says. "Maybe you're wrong?"

Adam sighs.

~

They stay another hour at Leila's, Adam lying on the couch with his head resting on Kris' lap and his feet spilling over the armrest. Kris chats with Eber about music, and it turns out they are both more classic-rock people, whereas Leila enjoys soul and jazz.

"Adam," Eber tells him, "went through every genre of music there is. I think it was glam rock that stuck with him the most, but he probably took a little bit from each."

"I'm still here," Adam mumbles, his eyes still closed.

"We know, dear," Kris says, patting his head.

Eber laughs.

"He sang for me today," Kris says. He's feeling particularly proud of his pretend-boyfriend abilities at the moment, having charmed his pretend-boyfriend's father, and the singing at Le Jazz would make a great story for a couple if you turn it a little sideways.

"Really?"

"Yeah, he sang Aretha Franklin, and Aerosmith, and the Beatles. It was great." Kris looks down to see that Adam's eyes are now open and they're staring straight at him. Kris tries to give him a smile that will tell him to play along, but his mouth won't move the way he wants it to, and his eyes are glued to Adam's parted lips. His heart gives a loud thump that almost makes him jump when Adam takes the hand Kris had in his hair in between both of his, and pulls it down to hold it on his chest.

Eber clears his throat. "Well. We should head out."

~

They leave with Eber and Amy.

Adam insists on walking Kris home, and spends the first five minutes thanking him again and again for saving him from his mother, which Kris now knows is an exaggeration if he ever heard one. The night is cool, and it makes Kris shiver, but Adam doesn't offer to put an arm around him to keep him warm—because that would obviously be inappropriate. Kris tries to find something to say, but runs out of conversation topics after 'your family is nice' and 'dinner was good'.

Their shoulders brush occasionally as they walk side by side, but that's all the contact they share. Kris misses Adam's touches already. He wonders if Adam will keep hugging him if they become good friends. He certainly hopes so. Apparently, Kris needs hugs in his life, and he can't very well run to Arkansas every time the need arises.

He tries to recall what it was like to hug Katy, or Janet, or Rachel, but it's been so long, the memories have lost their power. He sneaks a glance at Adam—who's looking down at his feet as he walks—and tries to compare what he liked about touching Adam to what he likes about touching women. Aside from the obvious differences—the hips, the breasts etc.—with Adam, Kris is the smaller one of the couple. He has to look up to him, and rise on his tiptoes to kiss him—not that he did that today, this is only theoretical. Kris has always felt a little weirded out by women who are taller or larger than him, so it's a surprise that he doesn't mind that Adam is. As an experiment, Kris tries to imagine himself hugging and kissing a smaller man, and finds that the picture is all wrong.

He's confusing himself.

This is loneliness, is what this is. It's not about being attracted to guys, it's about Adam being a shoo-in for the gaping hole in Kris' life. Adam is warmth and music and affection, and he made Kris realize that he's been hungry for all of that. He's a little too much to be real, if Kris is to be honest. Everything about him is loud and demands attention, and Kris wouldn't have thought he'd like that, but when it's coupled with so much sincerity and niceness, it's hard not to.

He looks at Adam again, just a fleeting look, and sees him stuffing his hands into his pockets. His jeans are way too tight. He realizes that his fleeting look has turned to staring at Adam's jeans and tears his eyes away, just to see that Adam has noticed.

Adam smiles tentatively and holds his gaze. There's a conversation they need to be having; Kris can almost see the words floating between them, but Adam doesn't start it, and Kris doesn't even know how to. The wind pushes Adam's hair away from his face, making it fly every which way, and it reminds Kris of how it felt between his fingers, the way Eber looked at them, fondly, without judgment, the way Adam looked up at him, his lips parted...

Kris stops, his breath stuck in his throat, then realizes that he's standing in front of his building.

~

"I'm going to put my number in," Adam says, taking Kris' phone and doing just that. "And if you ever need a pretend-boyfriend, you can call me." He grins. "I owe you one."

Kris' hands feel numb and tingly, but he doesn't fumble as he takes back his phone.

"Okay," Adam says and steps closer to hug Kris. He probably just doesn't want to stand around awkwardly. Kris would have stood there gaping at him forever, if Adam let him.

Adam's hug is warm and familiar, and it makes Kris' heart hurt, and it's over before Kris can move and hug him back, which makes Kris feel like he's lost something.

"Take care of yourself," Adam says, their faces too close for just friends—or isn't it? Is Kris making it up? Kris doesn't even know what he's doing himself; he can't be expected to tell what Adam's doing.

Kris manages to nod, and then he watches as Adam turns on his heels and walks away. He looks pretty ordinary from behind, certainly not like someone who could shake and squeeze Kris' life and make an Orange Mango Banana Vivano out of it.

Kris turns around and takes two steps towards the door, but then he looks down at his shoes, and they seem to be mocking him.

"Adam," he says, but it comes out as a hoarse whisper, which Adam, of course, doesn't respond to. When Kris looks down the street, he sees that Adam's about to turn the corner.

"Adam!"

This time, Adam hears.

Kris doesn't mean to run, he's already having trouble breathing, but his feet insist on moving as fast as they can. Adam walks back up the street, looking confused, and they meet in the middle.

"What?" Adam asks, worried.

"I'm—I just—" Kris bends over a little, trying to catch his breath.

"Okay," Adam says, suspicious, waiting for him.

"What if," Kris says, when he can talk again, "what if I changed my shoes?"

Adam looks confused. Kris feels his blood freeze in his veins in fear, but it's too late to walk away now.

"People can change their shoes, right?"

"Okay," Adam says, playing along. "But you wouldn't wear my shoes. It's not your style."

Kris looks down at Adam's snakeskin boots stupidly. "Well, no," he says. "But I could compromise. I could try something else. Not like mine, not like yours, something in between."

Adam looks thoughtful. "You can try, but there's no guarantee that they'll fit. Or that you'll be comfortable in them."

Kris considers that, and tries to come up with an answer, but before he can, Adam cracks up.

"I'm sorry," he says, shaking his head. "My mind is going to weird places. Can we drop the metaphor?"

Kris grins. "Okay."

"The thing is," Adam says, now sounding serious, "there's one rule every gay man knows. Don't date the straight guy. It always ends in tears."

Kris nods, feeling his face heat up. A car passes them by, blaring out a rap song; Kris focuses on the fading music, and wills himself not to act like a fool.

"But," Adam says, bending down slightly to better see Kris' face in the dark, "if you were sure, if you really thought it's what you want, I'd make an exception for you. I'd say yes—wear whatever the hell shoes you want."

"Oh," Kris says, his mouth dropping open slightly. "I... "

Adam runs a finger along Kris' bottom lip and stops his words. "Just. Wait." Then he leans down and kisses Kris, taking over his lips, his mouth, his breath, possibly even his heartbeat, and all Kris can do in return is to grab onto Adam's shoulders and pull himself up. It's nothing at all like the kisses they shared before, not tentative, or innocent; this one is saying Adam will take Kris and turn him inside out, and there'll be nothing Kris can do about it.

Kris feels spent when Adam pulls back, also nervous, and slightly scared. He wavers, literally, and has to hold onto Adam's arm to keep standing.

"So," Adam says. "Your choice." Then he smiles uneasily. "Your shoes."

He should say no, Kris thinks. He has no right to play around with Adam's emotions when he is not sure about this, and he certainly has no business going into anything when he's afraid from just one kiss.

But then he looks into Adam's eyes, seeing the fear and anticipation hiding in them, looks at Adam's face, his eyeliner almost completely rubbed off, and looks at his mouth, red from kissing him, and says, "No shoes."

"What?"

Kris kicks off his shoes. "We start over. No shoes."

Adam grins down at Kris' socks. "You're crazy."

Kris offers him his most innocent smile. "But I'm cute."

Adam shakes his head and leans down to kiss him again.

~

Kris is afraid that he'll freak out if he leaves Adam's side so soon, and since his apartment is full of crazy roommates, he invites himself over to Adam's.

They take a cab, because Kris refuses to put his shoes back on.

"It's a metaphor. I don't expect you to literally change your shoes."

"It's about commitment," Kris insists. "I am committed to going shoeless for you. And I am not a fickle person."

Thankfully, the cab driver doesn't seem too interested in what's happening in the backseat, so Kris can demonstrate just how committed he is to the idea.

~

Despite Kris' protests that he will take off his shoes and his shoes only on the first date, they end up naked and tangled in Adam's black cotton sheets. Kris feels overwhelmed and breathless with Adam all around him; it feels like he's touching him everywhere, all at once, pushing and pulling him to fit their bodies together in new and amazing ways.

Adam only stops asking him if he's sure, if he wants to stop, after Kris bites him on the neck hard enough to bruise. After that, he tells Kris that he's not going to hurt him, that he's going to take good care of him, and they both pretend that Adam is talking about the sex.

Adam's bed smells of sweat and flowers and vanilla, and Kris snuggles deeper into the covers as Adam gets up to bring them something to drink. He goes through the scattered clothes on the floor and picks up a pair of creased sweatpants, and Kris enjoys watching the muscles in his back move as he puts them on.

"I think I have tea. Or I can get you a soda. Do you want a soda?"

"I don't care," Kris says, grinning stupidly at Adam. He feels like an idiot, but he can't help it. It's the sex, and the glow of a new relationship, and the fact that he has a boyfriend, who is hot, and talented, and way out of his league.

"Don't tempt me with that smile, Kristopher," Adam warns him, leaning over to drop a long and soft kiss on his lips.

"Or what?" Kris breathes.

Adam growls and pulls Kris' bottom lip with his teeth. "Or I'd have to come back to bed and fuck you until we're both sore."

Kris swallows his heart down and nods. "Let's do that, then."

Adam shakes his head and pushes the sheets away to cover Kris with his own body. "Seriously," he says, kicking off the sweatpants with Kris' help. "You're unreal." He bites Kris' nipple, pushing him down when he tries to arch up. "You're going to be the death of me," he whines, reaching down to push Kris' legs apart and make himself a place in between.

Then he starts moving.

"I'm going to burn your shoes."

The End

October 26th, 2009