Dreaming Out Loud

extras and deleted scenes

Fic by jerakeen & Art by cleverboots

All I See is You and Me

(Right after the ending. Before the epilogue.)

Kris calls Marianne and tells her he won’t be in to work. Then he takes his shirt off and lies down facing Adam, Adam’s arms going around him immediately to pull him in as close as he can get. Kris rests his head on Adam’s chest and wills his heart rate to go down.

They’re not going to be having sex, because there are at least eleven people within walking distance who have the keys to Kris’ house. Locking and bolting all doors would probably get them to call the cops, because Kris never does that. Being alone in his own home is a dream for Kris unless he plans ahead carefully. Adam probably isn’t used to that.

“It’s cool,” Adam says. “I don’t even know if I could, honestly.”

Kris bends his leg, lifting it to rub his knee against Adam’s erection.

Adam smiles. “Okay, yeah, I probably could.” Kris laughs at his matter-of-fact tone. Adam never sounds apologetic about sex. Kris doesn’t think he could if he tried. But Adam doesn’t make any kind of move; he takes Kris’ hand in his to bring it to his lips and kiss the palm.

Kris doesn’t say anything. There is a whole world that they haven’t even touched yet. It’s daunting—terrifying, but also incredible. He still can’t quite believe that they’re doing this.

“So many decisions,” he says, thinking out loud.

Adam tightens his arm around him. “We can do it. It’ll work out . . . ”

The end of the sentence hangs there like a question—but it’s not, it shouldn’t be—and Kris pushes up on an elbow to answer it with a kiss.

“Yeah,” he says, pulling back. “We’ll be—”

The front door opens and shuts loudly. Kris recognizes the guest as Daniel from the way he drops his boots on the floor; he has a very distinct and unreasonably messy way of removing his shoes. “Kris! You home?” he yells. Kris sighs and gets up.

By the time he puts his shirt back on and goes downstairs, Daniel has found Dylan’s stash of chips and is eating out of the bag with his feet on the coffee table.

“Hey,” he says, chewing loudly. “How come you’re not at work?” Then he spots Adam in the doorway and says, “Huh.”

Kris refuses to feel weird about this when Daniel is the one unashamedly breaking in and stealing their chips when no one’s supposed to be home. He crosses his arms and leans against the wall. “You came here for chips?”

Daniel’s eyes keep moving between Adam and Kris. Haltingly, he says, “No, I was going to borrow your drill.”

“It’s in the garage,” Kris says pointedly.

Daniel refuses to budge. “What’s going on?”

Kris shrugs. He doesn’t feel like doing a play-by-play for Daniel right now, but Adam seems to have other ideas. He comes to stand behind Kris and puts a possessive arm around his middle. Kris leans back instinctively.

“Oh, I am so interrupting something,” Daniel says, no longer hesitant. No, he seems unnecessarily cheerful now.

“Yes,” Adam says. “You kinda are.”

Daniel leans forward excitedly, dumping the crumbs in his lap down on the floor—the floor Kris had vacuumed just that morning. “So? What’s the verdict? You guys decided who’s gonna move where?”

“I’m moving—”

“We’re moving—”

Daniel cracks up with a full belly laugh, hands clutching at his sides. Ignoring him, Kris shares a sheepish look with Adam.

“I think you should all just move to Baltimore and be done with it,” Daniel offers, infinitely wise.

Adam shrugs, eyes still holding Kris’. “Baltimore works for me,” he says. Kris has to—he just has to push up on his tiptoes and kiss him just then, screw Daniel and his interrupting. Baltimore works for him, too.

“So.” Daniel claps his hands. He waits a beat and then clears his throat loudly. “Where’s Dylan?”

“Samantha’s,” Adam answers against Kris’ mouth. Kris shivers at the brush of Adam’s breath across his lips. He turns to face Adam completely and edge closer, Adam’s warmth and smell so familiar, and . . .

“Then I guess I . . . should go,” Daniel says from somewhere very far away. “And pick up Dylan. We’ll grab a couple of beers, call some hookers, make a night of it.”

Adam bites Kris’ lower lip. Kris moans into his mouth and retaliates.

“Earth to Kris.”

Sometimes, Adam hums when he kisses Kris. It’s usually when they’re making out lazily, letting themselves linger in the moment and not care about what comes next. It sounds a bit like a cat’s purr. Kris likes resting a couple of fingers on his throat when he does that, feeling the vibrations.

“Okay, I’m outta here.”

Kris hears the door slam shut, but then it opens again after a second. “Bolt the goddamn door. I’ll tell everyone you have the plague.”

Adam pulls back to help Kris get rid of his shirt. “Did he just call me the plague?” he asks.

Kris kisses his indignation away.

They do bolt the door. Not just the front door either, Kris takes the time to lock and bolt the back door as well. Just in case. Something has begun to burn impatiently in his stomach, and he has a feeling that they won’t care if anyone walks in—which is really, really dangerous with Dylan around.

“Okay, okay, okay,” he says, pulling Adam toward the stairs. Apparently, bolting a door can take up to seven tries when you have Adam Lambert pressed against your back, licking your neck.

Stairs are tricky. Kris does his best to take deep breaths and ignore Adam, but Adam loves to play dirty and Kris is really ticklish. Halfway up, Kris finds himself seated on a step, giggling helplessly, with Adam grinning down at him and straddling his thighs.

“Hi,” Adam breathes, stealing tiny, urgent kisses.

Kris’ giggles die down. His hands reach up and his fingers tangle in Adam’s hair, holding on tight—perhaps a little too tight—and he just barely keeps himself upright as Adam nuzzles down his neck to bite his collarbone. Their breathing is loud in the quiet of the empty house, and the occasional hitch in Adam’s makes Kris’ hands tremble.

Adam pulls back to look him in the eye, deadly serious, and his fingers brush all over Kris’ face, fluttering restlessly on his skin. It feels odd, like he’s trying to see Kris with his fingertips, but Kris doesn’t complain or move away. He lets Adam do what he likes, because—because Adam gets to do that now. Officially. He gets to touch Kris wherever he likes, whenever he likes—for however long he likes.

Just the thought of it makes Kris’ heart beat faster.

Adam’s fingers come to a rest on Kris’ lips—not entirely steady. Kris bites the tip of Adam’s thumb, flicking his tongue against the salty skin; Adam immediately replaces it with his mouth.

Kris slides back and lets Adam kiss him—hard and fast and impatient. There’s a step digging into his back, but aside from a vague thought that he has a perfectly fine bed upstairs, the awkwardness of the position doesn’t really register. Adam makes him forget everything—himself included. He lets everything go when they touch, no thinking, no worries, no real world; just this, the two of them, here, now. Adam makes Kris want to call in sick for a week.

“We should . . . upstairs . . .” Kris pants when Adam releases him. If they stay here, he’s going to slip and hit his head, probably get a concussion, and that’s not in his plans for tonight, but Adam doesn’t seem to care. He nuzzles into Kris’ neck and wraps his arms around him, one of them supporting Kris around his waist, the other cradling his head. Kris has never felt the size difference between them so acutely before, but right now, he feels like Adam could just pick him up and carry him away.

It’s different, but not necessarily in a bad way.

“Kris,” Adam says, voice hoarse, slightly cracked, and kisses and bites his way down to Kris’ chest, to his bicep, down along his arm. The tip of his tongue traces Kris’ skin, tickling him and making him gasp quietly. “Kris,” Adam repeats, sucking Kris’ nipple into his mouth. Kris arches up and holds onto Adam’s hair.

When Adam comes back to Kris’ lips, it’s to give him a long and dirty kiss, hard enough to hurt and out of control right from the start. It says they’re probably not making it upstairs, not for a while yet. Kris can’t really say he cares all that much right now.

Adam releases his hold on Kris and puts his hands on the button of Kris’ jeans. He looks up, asking for permission, as if Kris is going to say no to him ever again. “I want . . .” He trails off, breathing hard, and licks a strip down Kris’ quivering stomach. “Please?”

Kris nods and tries to keep in the embarrassingly needy sounds.

Adam spreads Kris’ legs apart and undoes his jeans swiftly. Kris has just enough time to grab onto the banister before Adam has his cock in a sure grip. He wraps one hand around Kris’ calf to steady himself, and then takes Kris into his mouth.

Kris doesn’t move his hips, but only because he’s afraid they’ll topple down if he does. He bites the inside of his cheek and tries to stay as still as he can. Adam goes down on him faster than he ever has before. He takes him deeper, humming when the head of Kris’ cock nudges the back of his throat—like that’s exactly what he wanted, what he’s been craving. Kris, for his part, didn’t even know to crave this. He didn’t know that he would enjoy the way the pain in the small of his back grounds him, that he would want Adam to tighten his fingers around his calf until he can feel bruises blooming there. It’s all new and unexpected, and he doesn’t have any time to process, because Adam’s mouth is too hot, and he’s sucking too hard, and Kris is burning up.

It could be because of the uncomfortable position, or the relief after weeks of tension, or maybe Adam is just that good—but whatever the reason, Kris’ orgasm starts building all the way down from his toes. It tingles its way up his legs, and then explodes in his chest, making him shout and pull at Adam’s hair reflexively, his head thunking back against the wooden step.

Adam doesn’t seem to mind the hair-pulling; he just hums happily, swallows what he can, and lets the rest of the come dribble down his chin. Kris has always loved how carefree Adam can be during sex, but there’s something about this particular moment that strikes him as different—significant. He wipes Adam’s chin off and pulls him up, watching the way his face lights up, his eyes serious and excited and completely untroubled all at once.

It’s not that Adam is taking this lightly; it’s more like he thinks that nothing can go wrong now.

Kris smiles, trying to catch his breath, and thinks that maybe he’s right.

Upstairs in bed, Adam lies on top of Kris, settled between his legs, his face so close they’re breathing the same air.

“I missed you,” Adam says with a sigh and kisses Kris, soft and slow, no purpose to it beyond the act of kissing itself. Kris palms Adam’s cheeks, runs his hands through Adam’s hair, and lets himself be kissed, over and over again. He’s hard and Adam’s erection is throbbing against his thigh, but as long as Adam is okay with it, Kris feels like he can do this—just this, forever.

“I want to—” Adam says, pulling away from the kiss but then coming back to lick into Kris’ mouth with a moan. “I want to touch you all night.”

“Okay,” Kris agrees easily. He already called Daniel to make sure he would pick Dylan up from Samantha’s and was assured that they would be at Daniel’s place tonight, playing poker. Apparently, Kris has failed as a parent by never teaching his son how to play the game, and Daniel is going to rectify that oversight tonight. To be honest, Kris hadn’t been in the mood for listening to Daniel’s nonsense, so he’d said something vaguely approving and hung up without bothering with the details.

Adam makes a noise between a hum and a moan against Kris’ neck and sucks on the skin hard enough to leave a bruise. He runs his teeth down to Kris’ shoulder, making Kris’ breath catch in his throat, and bites his arm lightly. “I want to fuck you,” he says, pressing his hips down to Kris’. “Can I?”

“Yes,” Kris says through gritted teeth.

“Really, really slow,” Adam says, pulling one of Kris’ legs up and pressing a kiss to his knee.

“Yes,” Kris says. “Yes.”

“And then I want you to fuck me,” he says, one hand snaking between their bodies to wrap around the base of Kris’ cock. “Would you like that?”

“Yes,” Kris says, breathless. His cock jumps in Adam’s hand. He tries and fails to keep back a moan.

“Mmmm,” Adam hums, moving down to bury his face between Kris’ thighs.

Kris bunches the sheets in his fists, rocks up against Adam’s mouth, and says, “Yes.”

Kris pants and tries to gulp in air as Adam pushes into him excruciatingly slowly. It’s not as bad as the first time they did this, but Adam’s cock is much thicker than his fingers, and even after all that torturously lengthy preparation, the stretch of it burns, just on the edge of hurting.

Sweat trails down Adam’s temple and Kris pushes up on an elbow to lick it, making Adam chuckle breathlessly; his hips twitch, pushing him further inside Kris, and Kris moans, startled. Adam apologizes with soothing noises released into a kiss.

It takes forever for Adam to bury himself completely inside him. When he’s finally there, he stops, seemingly to breathe. He opens his eyes and stares into Kris’.

Kris feels suspended in the moment. He releases the sheets to cup his hands around Adam’s face, his fingers slightly shaky as they trace the tiny lines around Adam’s eyes, and then he pulls Adam down into a kiss, pushing up with his hips as he does so.

Adam gasps into Kris’ mouth and starts moving.

Kris feels a bit like he has a fever. His skin is burning up, but at the same time, he’s shivering as if he’s cold. He tries to focus on the feeling of Adam moving inside him—hot, burning, filling him up. The urgency is building up in him, but he’s determined to let Adam run the show. If Adam wants this to go slow, then Kris is going to give him that. It’s not easy to stop his body from reacting on instinct, though. His hands want to reach up and grab, and his hips want to snap against Adam’s; he wants them to move and rub against each other until they’re completely spent. Preferably in the next five seconds.

He clenches his jaw and fists his hands tighter into the sheets. “Adam,” he says through gritted teeth, and then he moans when Adam draws out and slams back in, in one quick move.

“Yes, baby,” Adam says, the endearment spilling out of his lips just like that. “Kris,” he says and pulls out slowly, watching Kris’ face.

Kris gasps and shuts his eyes.

“Tell me,” Adam says, sliding in slowly, angling carefully to make Kris flush and arch up. “What do you need?” He leans down to lap at Kris’ lips. “Tell me.”

“Losing my mind,” Kris whispers, his voice breaking on the last word.

“Then I’m doing something right,” Adam says, and when Kris opens his eyes, Adam is grinning down at him.

“Please,” Kris whispers, pulling at the sheets. “Please, please, please . . .”

“Anything,” Adam promises. He wraps his fingers around Kris’ cock and moves his hand as he moves his hips. “Anything. Tell me.”

They touch for hours. They take a long shower together, standing under the hot spray, resting against each other, and then they head down to the kitchen to get something to eat—though the food gets abandoned halfway through the meal when Adam pulls Kris into his lap and starts making out with him. After that, they go back to the bed, even though neither of them is tired and it’s still too early to sleep. Adam spoons behind Kris, buries his face in the back of Kris’ neck, and they lie there, tangled together, until Adam’s hands get restless again and start roaming under Kris’ clothes.

It’s easy to kick off their sweatpants, rendering them quickly naked since neither of them bothered with underwear, and Adam puts a condom on without even moving away from Kris. Adam’s cock slides in easily and without any preamble. It makes Kris hiss at first, but two strokes in, it feels right again, like Adam never left, or shouldn’t have, anyway.

It’s easy and lazy and sluggish, and it lasts a long time. When they finally come, Kris is too spent to even think about moving. He feels Adam get rid of the condom behind him and turns around with his last bit of energy, curling into Adam’s arms. He buries his face in Adam’s sweaty chest and falls asleep.

The next time he wakes up, it’s 3:00 AM.

“Did I wake you up?” Adam whispers.

Kris smiles at him. “With the creepy staring? No.”

Adam leans closer to give him a sweet kiss. Kris grins all the way through it.

“Mmm,” Adam says. “Morning breath.”

Kris pulls the covers higher and rolls closer to him. “Can’t be. It’s not morning yet.”

It’s a good thing they’re getting the smiling at each other like a couple of idiots thing out of their systems now, Kris figures. It would be embarrassing to be caught doing it in public. Not that he can find the will to care. He’s a bit too in love to worry about public humiliation right now.

“I think I’m going to give you a blowjob now,” Adam says, sliding down Kris’ body, taking the covers with him. Kris catches his breath at the first touch on his hip, but he pushes Adam’s hands away and sits up.

“No,” he says, and grins when Adam blinks up at him bemusedly. “I think I’m going to give you a blowjob now.”

Adam shakes his head and smirks. “I called it first.”

Kris doesn’t know how to explain his sudden flash of irritation. “You don’t have to do that,” he says.

Adam looks up at him, amused. “Believe me, it’s my pleasure.”

“No, seriously,” Kris says, pulling Adam up. “You don’t—I mean . . .” He bites his lip at Adam’s confused look and tries to put it into words without offending Adam. “It doesn’t always have to be . . . I mean—you don’t have to take care of me all the time.”

“I like taking care of you,” Adam says slowly. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Besides, it’s the polite thing to do when it comes to sex. Or so I hear.”

Adam looks a little hurt, so Kris brings Adam’s hand up to his lips and kisses the freckles on his knuckles, just to soften the harshness of his clumsy words.

“I know. But listen. You’ve been trying to give me everything you think I want—”

Adam’s face falls. Kris pushes through to finish, to make him understand.

“—and it’s been amazing. One of the top three nights of my life, and you’ve got another spot in that ranking already, which is really kind of ridiculous seeing how we’ve only spent less then seventy-two hours together.”

Adam stares at him warily, uncomprehending.

“But I don’t want you to fall into the habit of putting my choices over yours. I want you to ask for what you want too, not just give me what I want.”

“I wasn’t—” Adam shakes his head, a tiny crease between his eyebrows.

“You were,” Kris nods. “You are. I want to make you happy, too. You need to let me.”

“I—” Adam licks his lips. “But you do.” Kris sighs; Adam is not going to make this easy. “I don’t understand,” Adam says.

“Okay.” Kris nods and throws the covers down completely. Then he rolls Adam onto his back and straddles his thighs. Adam’s hands go automatically to rest on Kris’ hips. “This is not about me,” he tells Adam. “This is about us. It’s about me taking care of you as much as you’re taking care of me.”

Adam nods and waits for him to continue.

“You don’t have to be gentle with me.” Adam opens his mouth; Kris doesn’t let him talk. “You can be, but you don’t have to be. I want to make sure that you know that.”

Adam blinks at him.

Kris smirks. “I know you’re not this vanilla. I know you.”

Adam blinks some more, and then says, “I blew you on the stairs.” He raises an eyebrow. “Last time, I fucked you on the kitchen table. On the living room floor. In the shower. On the—”

Kris grins; the list is quite ridiculous. “That’s not—yeah, I mean, not exactly vanilla, but that’s not what I meant.” He leans down to kiss Adam, licks along his lower lip once before continuing. “I’m not complaining, okay? It’s just—you make me feel—so amazing. And I—I feel . . .”

This is going to make him sound stupid, because, yeah, it’s just a feeling. Being with Adam like this is still so new and overpowering that he can barely think about it in words, anyway. But he’s getting more comfortable, slowly, and when he isn’t being completely overwhelmed, he has that niggling worry that Adam’s holding something back. He tries to remember any sign of it—a loosened grip around his wrists that hadn’t even really registered at the time, or a hand that had started to move and then stopped. He isn’t sure, and they wouldn’t even mean anything, but he just has that feeling and it’s bothering him.

“I want to know what I can do for you, too.” He sets his jaw and looks down at Adam, standing his ground. “I want you to tell me.”

Adam doesn’t say anything; Kris wishes he would.

“You can be rough if you want,” Kris offers. “You can hold me down when you fuck me.”

Adam’s breath quickens, eyes growing darker with lust, and Kris lets go of the breath that was stuck in his throat. He leans in to give Adam a kiss—with a frankly unnecessary amount of tongue.

“You can fuck my mouth if you want,” he says against Adam’s lips, feeling bolder. “I can learn.”

Adam growls and pulls him into a deeper, almost forceful kiss. So he does want. Kris smirks and kisses him back enthusiastically.

“If you don’t like—” Adam says, panting, and Kris cuts him off with a shake of his head.

“If I don’t like something, I’ll tell you and we’ll work around that. Just don’t assume I won’t without asking me.”

They make out—a bit roughly; biting and grabbing harder than they had before—until Kris’ lungs start screaming and they have to separate. When they do, Adam seems a bit bewildered, muscles loosened where Kris hadn’t even realized Adam had been visibly tense.

“You’re unbelievable,” Adam says. It doesn’t come out like a compliment, more like—like he really can’t believe Kris. Which is okay, really. Kris is okay with that.

“I’m . . .” Kris tries to come up with the right words—nothing flowery, just the facts, but it’s not easy when he does feel like being flowery and over the top. “I love you,” Kris says, realizing he hasn’t said it yet. “I love you.”

Adam’s smile is wide and bright enough to light up the room. “How the hell did I even find you?” Adam asks, sounding sincerely mystified. “You were hiding in Arkansas—and I found you.”

“My son is a great matchmaker.”

Adam huffs out a laugh and pulls Kris down to tangle them with the sheets again. His fingers delve into Kris’ hair, and he presses a kiss to Kris’ temple.

“I love you, too,” he says. “And your matchmaker of a son.”

Kris’ lips are wet and swollen, and Adam licks them one last time before pulling back and pressing two of his fingers between them. Kris sucks on the digits obediently, tasting a faint mixture of the two of them on Adam’s skin. He moans when Adam starts moving them in and out, his thigh rubbing against Kris’ erection to the same rhythm.

“I do want to fuck your mouth,” Adam says, sounding far away and dreamy.

Kris pushes his tongue between the fingers and plays with the soft skin in between.

Adam moans. “I really, really do.”

Kris sucks the fingers clean and pulls them out.

“Teach me how.”

 

Better Half

(Two weeks after the ending.)

Kris has been putting it off for a week, but after last night’s long and hushed conversation with Adam he’d concluded that this has to be done quickly, like pulling off a band-aid. The more he waits and thinks about it, the harder it will get.

The internet claims that there’s no one particular right way to do this, which means he’s going to have to go with his instincts.

Kris hates going with his instincts.

Dylan’s room is tidy for once; Adam is a great influence in that respect. He doesn’t like picking up after himself, but when it comes to Dylan, he seems determined to set a good example. And Dylan has been lapping it all up. Kris doubts it’ll last long—the hero worship won’t survive the first fight, probably—but for now, it’s nice to have Adam on his side.

“Hey,” Kris says, perching on the bed.

Dylan is sprawled on the floor, crayons in a neat row next to him, and he seems to be drawing an octopus . . . holding nunchucks?

“Hey,” Dylan mumbles, dropping the bright orange crayon and picking up a green one.

“I . . . need to talk to you about something.” Kris’ throat threatens to close up, but he swallows through it. For God’s sake, he hasn’t even said anything yet.

“Okay,” Dylan says, wholly unconcerned. He doesn’t look up.

This makes Kris even more nervous, if that’s possible. Dylan is unconcerned because Kris has never really had to talk with him about important stuff like this. They’ve never once had a conversation about girlfriends or the possibility of a step-parent. They’ve never had reason to.

“You know how . . . some men like women, and others . . . like other . . . men?”

Kris winces inwardly and hopes that didn’t sound as idiotic to a nine-year-old as it did to him.

“Yeah,” Dylan says, matter-of-fact. “They’re gay.”

“Oh.” Kris didn’t know Dylan knew that. Obviously, his son is old enough to know these things now, but Kris has no idea who could’ve explained it to him. It’s not like they have any gay neighbors or relatives. “You know what that word means?”

Dylan lifts his eyes from his drawing to roll them at Kris. “Of course I do. Alfie’s Aunt Madeline is gay.”

Oh. Kris maybe should have realized that one, actually.

“And Adam is gay.”

Kris starts, teeth biting painfully into his tongue. He coughs to cover the fact that he’s choking just a bit. “You . . . uh. Yes. He is.”

Dylan colors the arms of the octopus, careful to stay inside the lines. He raises his head thoughtfully and says, “Is that how he knows so much about clothes?”

What. Is. What. “No. I don’t think that’s why.”

“Hmm,” Dylan says and goes back to his octopus.

Kris stares down at him helplessly. He tries again. “You know how Adam and I,” he says, and then completely forgets how he’d planned to complete this thought. “Adam is—Adam and I—we—“

“You know I love your dad, right?”

Kris’ head whips up to find Adam in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed over his chest. He smiles at Kris encouragingly, and Kris feels himself relaxing a little. He was an idiot to insist that he could do this alone. It’s just that sometimes it’s hard for him to remember that he doesn’t have to do it alone anymore.

“Yeeeeah,” Dylan drawls, looking up at Adam suspiciously.

“And you know I date guys?” Adam prompts.

Dylan looks back and forth between Adam and Kris a couple of times and finally says, “Yeah . . .”

“So,” Adam says, pulling his shoulders up awkwardly, “I’m dating your dad.”

Dylan looks to Kris for confirmation. Kris swallows thickly and nods.

“Huh,” Dylan says.

Kris braces himself for the reaction he knows is going to come—anger probably, or at least a pout for keeping things from him, but Dylan just looks back at Kris for another few seconds, brow wrinkled, and then smiles an inexplicable smile, shrugs, and picks up the orange crayon again.

Kris blinks at Adam, confused. Adam makes a how should I know face.

“So, uh,” Kris says, “you’re okay with that?”

“I don’t care,” Dylan says and starts drawing a whale for the octopus to use its nunchucks on. Then he pauses with a contemplative air. “No one’s gonna gossip anymore about how you should be dating, I guess.”

Kris sits there, not sure what to do for a moment, but then gets up and walks over to the door. Adam puts an arm around his waist to support him.

“Um.” Kris racks his brain to find something—anything to say, but all he can come up with is, “Okay.”

Adam steers him out of the room, and Kris reaches back to pull the door closed behind them. He’s just about to shut it when Dylan looks up, as if something has just occurred to him, and says, “Is Adam going to live with us now?”

Kris’ eyes flick to Adam, who is safely out of the room now, and Adam smiles at him, triumphant. “Yeah,” Kris says, nodding to Dylan. “He’ll be living with us.”

Dylan grins. “Cool.”

Adam pulls Kris into the bedroom, shuts the door behind them, and crowds him against it. “That went well,” he says.

Kris huffs out a chuckle and wraps his arms around Adam, hiding his face in Adam’s shoulder. “That was terrifying.”

Adam laughs at him. Kris pinches his arm. “Ow!” Adam says, still laughing.

“Don’t make fun of me! That could have been a disaster, you know.”

“Nah,” Adam says, holding him tighter and dropping a kiss in his hair. “No way. Your son is the coolest.”

Kris can’t deny that.

“Now, your parents on the other hand . . .” Adam trails off meaningfully.

Kris groans into Adam’s shirt.

It’s three days later, and Kris is preparing lunch as Adam tries—and mostly fails—to help Dylan with his math homework, when Dylan sits up suddenly and says to Adam, “What do I call you now?”

“Huh?” Adam says, a pencil stuck in his mouth.

“You can’t be a mom, and I already have a dad . . .”

“Uh . . .”

Adam shoots an alarmed look at Kris. Kris raises an eyebrow back at him. Payback is a bitch.

“Uh. I guess . . . you can just call me Adam.”

Dylan wrinkles his nose. “I can’t tell people you’re my Adam.”

Adam grins and shrugs. “Why not?”

“It would be weird.” Dylan laughs. “That’s why not.”

“I’m okay with being a wicked stepmother,” Adam tells him seriously. “If that works better for you . . .”

Dylan giggles and covers his face with his hands.

“Seriously,” Adam says. “I’ll wear a dress and everything. And I have these heels—very wicked stepmother-ish—”

“Adaaam,” Dylan groans.

“What?” Adam says, faking innocence, and winks at Kris over Dylan’s head. “You’re the one who said I can’t be just Adam.”

“Okay, okay!” Dylan raises his hands. “You can be Adam. I don’t care.”

Adam wraps an arm around Dylan and pulls him closer, chair and all. Dylan squirms but doesn’t really try to get out of his hold. “You can call me anything you want,” Kris hears Adam say softly, kissing Dylan’s cheek.

Dylan ducks his head.

Kris kind of wants to go over there and turn it into a group hug, but Dylan’s voice is very clear in his head: ‘Eww. Lame.’ So he stops himself. He’s already the lame parent in comparison, no need to make it worse.

“So,” Adam says, clearing his throat. “You gonna tell me what happened to that two?”

Kris listens with half an ear as they try to figure out what Dylan did with the two, and keeps slicing the tomatoes for the salad.

(Unpeeled. Because that’s how Adam likes them.)

 

Phone Snippets

(They can't always live in each other's pockets. Sometimes, Adam has to go to L.A. and they go back to phone conversations. It's not as fun as it used to be though.)

The Shower Phone

“Kris, did you send me an email back about that baby thing—”

Adam pauses, listens closely.

“Kris?”

“Yeah?” Kris says, his voice slightly sheepish—if you know how to read him. Which Adam does.

“What’s that sound?”

“What sound?” Kris asks.

Adam rolls his eyes. “Like . . . water?”

“Oh, um. It’s . . . water.” He pauses, but Adam waits him out. “I’m in the shower,” he finally admits with a sigh.

“You’re . . .”

“. . . in the shower. Yes.”

Adam cracks up. “You’re actually using the shower phone!” he crows, delighted.

“It was right there!” Kris protests. “And ringing!”

Adam laughs even harder at his whiny tone. This is too precious. He needs visuals to go with this. Kris wet and naked and . . .

Oh.

“You’re naked,” he realizes.

“Well, yes, that’s usually how I shower.”

“Oh,” Adam says, trying to blink away the mental images. It doesn’t work. “Do you . . .” he says, then pauses to lick his lips. “How do you feel about shower phone sex?”

“What?” Kris sounds taken aback. “We’re not having phone sex. We never have phone sex. Where did that come from?”

“You’re naked and wet and on the phone with me,” Adam explains.

“Oh,” Kris says. “That’s . . . Well.”

“And we have another seven days before you’ll be here.”

Kris doesn’t say anything. Adam listens to the water running.

“Kris?” Adam says finally, wondering if the phone broke. It would be just his luck.

“Um,” Kris says, a little breathless. “So what do I do?”

Adam grins and leans back in his seat.

Minesweeper

Adam is bored out of his mind with nothing to do, and Kris is keeping him company on the phone while doing his laundry.

“You could read a book?” Kris offers.

Adam makes a face. “I’m playing Minesweeper.”

Kris grunts. “That’s productive.”

“Someone’s gotta sweep those mines.”

“I feel weird dating you some days.”

Adam grins. “Just some days?”

“Yeah. Just when you act like you could be one of Dylan’s friends.”

“I am one of Dylan’s friends,” Adam says.

“That does not make me wanna have sex with you. Just for the record.”

Adam pouts into the phone. “I’m clicking a random one,” he tells Kris as he picks the corner square.

“You live dangerously,” Kris mumbles. Adam hears him programming the machine—probably the dryer.

He clicks the square. Something breaks loudly at the other end of the line.

“That was not me,” Adam says.

Kris doesn’t say anything, but Adam hears him take a few steps, probably toward the stairs.

But then, “I’m okay!” Dylan’s muffled voice comes through.

Adam releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“I just broke a plate!” Dylan says.

“Don’t move,” Kris orders. “I’ll be right there.”

“I’m not a kid!” Dylan grumbles.

Kris sighs. “Yeah, last time he broke a glass, he managed to cut himself in the thigh.”

Adam wishes he was there to help. He scowls at his computers screen. Stupid mines.

“I gotta go.”

Adam’s scowl deepens. “Yeah. Call me when you can?”

“I will.”

Adam debates whether he should say I love you, but Kris hangs up before he can decide.

He huffs and clicks another random square. It explodes.

July 23rd, 2010

Somebody Like You

I've had this in my WIP folder for months now. It's not gonna get any better than this, so I've decided to set it free. Also, I didn't have anything better for kradam_kiss. *shame*

Beta by faerielissa. Title is from a Keith Urban song.

- 1 -

Adam brings both shirts downstairs to ask for Kris’ opinion, though God knows Kris always just humors him when it comes to fashion. But this is important, and Kris knows this place better than him. If they’re ever to go to a drag show or something, then Adam will repay the favor for sure.

“Kris. Which shirt?” Adam says, holding them up side by side. “I’m thinking the grey one, but I’m not so sure about the sleeves...”

Kris looks away from the monitor to face Adam, and Adam trails off.

“For what?” Kris asks.

“For... tomorrow. Uh. Morning? With Dylan, and uh, the school?”

Kris is giving him a bemused look, so Adam shakes his head and tries to gather his thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I just completely lost my train of thought, because—are you wearing glasses?”

Kris touches the frames, like he forgot they were there. “Oh. Yeah. For reading.”

“Wow.”

“Dorky, I know,” Kris says with a self-deprecating smile. And then he rolls his eyes—to add insult to injury.

Adam dumps the shirts on the couch and walks purposefully toward the desk. Kris leans back in his seat warily, like Adam’s going to bite him.

...which is not really out of the question.

Adam pauses, looming over Kris, and considers trying to explain how he looks—but the words don’t come, and Kris is much better at reading his gestures anyway. So he leans down and captures Kris’ lips in a hard kiss—kissing him deep, with a lot of tongue—and doesn’t pull back until he absolutely has to.

“So,” Kris pants, his lips red. “Not that dorky?”

Adam groans and shakes his head. “You have no idea.”

Kris eyes the bulge in Adam’s sweatpants. “Really,” he mutters, fascinated.

Adam groans again helplessly. He has the most oblivious boyfriend ever. He takes Kris’ hand in his and presses it against his dick. “I... really... need you to suck me off now,” he says. “With the glasses on,” he clarifies on second thought.

Kris’ hand presses harder instinctively. Adam lets out a moan.

Kris leans closer, looking dazed, but then shakes himself off and pulls back, looking around the living room. “We can’t,” he says, sounding pained.

“Upstairs?” Adam asks.

Kris bites his lip and nods. “Okay.”

 

- 2 -

The first time Adam gets saddled with babysitting Neil’s baby, he makes sure Kris is there with him to supervise. It’s not that he hasn’t held her before, or even changed her, he just feels like he might do something stupid, or forget to do something, and the baby will, like, explode.

It may not be likely, but Adam is not taking any chances.

Thankfully, Elizabeth really is a very quiet and awesome baby. Kris says Dylan was the exact opposite, crying all day and night, shutting up only when someone picked him up. Adam is certainly glad that Dylan grew out of that phase.

It’s been three hours since Lucille left, and there hasn’t been a peep from Elizabeth.

“You realize she won’t stop breathing if you look away for a second?” Kris says, smiling at him with one side of his mouth.

Adam shrugs. But what if she does?

Hanging out with a baby is boring. Adam can’t watch TV, because he’s afraid the sound will wake her up, and he can’t read, because he really doesn’t want to look away from her, just in case. At least when he spends time with Dylan, he can help him color, or study, or just chat about sea creatures or prehistoric monsters or something. Babies are so much more boring in comparison.

Except, boring is apparently good. Because when Elizabeth wakes up, blinks sleepily, and then starts crying out of nowhere, Adam wishes he could go back to the quiet and boring part. That part was much easier. Less scary. Definitely better for his eardrums.

“Are you gonna pick her up?” Kris asks from the doorway, looking amused.

Adam flails at him. “I don’t know. She’s all squirmy.”

“You have picked her up before.”

He has, yes, but she hadn’t been screaming then. What if she makes a sudden move? What if she kicks him, and he drops her, and she bleeds? What if—

“There,” Kris says gently, picking the baby from her crib and holding her up to look her in the face. “What happened?” he asks her, sounding totally serious, like she might actually answer. “Why are you crying?”

Elizabeth stares at him with a pout and hiccups sadly.

“Aww, that’s okay,” Kris tells her. He brings her to his chest and lets her rest one chubby cheek on his shoulder. As she babbles nonsense into his neck, Kris strokes the back of her head soothingly. “I know, I know,” he says, caressing her blond hair.

Adam leans back against the wall and watches him, unblinking.

“It’s easy. You won’t drop her. You’re worrying over nothing,” Kris tells him. He sways from side to side, humming under his breath. Elizabeth sighs and closes her eyes.

Adam swallows reflexively. “You’re good at that,” he offers.

“I have done this before,” Kris tells him.

It takes Kris ten minutes to get her to sleep again. He doesn’t even do anything special. He just holds her close, rocks her when she starts fussing, and walks around the room with tiny steps. It’s a bit like he’s dancing, which he swears he can’t do, but he’s got the rhythm for sure. His hips swish a little when he does the swaying thing, but Adam can’t tear his eyes away from his hands to look down.

His hands seem especially large on Elizabeth’s back. They’re sure and confident and secure and steady...

Adam shakes his head. His heart is beating a mile a minute... from staring at his boyfriend holding a baby? There’s something very wrong about that.

“What?” Kris mutters in his general direction, putting the sleeping baby back in her crib. He steals a glance at Adam but then turns back to Elizabeth quickly and tucks her blanket around her.

Adam waits until he’s done and then pulls him up by the hand.

“What?” Kris asks again, now flush against Adam’s chest.

Adam stares at his face—Kris, as usual, is completely clueless—and smiles. “You are so incredibly hot.”

Kris’ eyebrows climb up. “I am?”

Adam nods. He wraps an arm around Kris’ waist and sways to nonexistent music.

“What are you doing?” Kris says with a chuckle.

Adam kicks away from the wall and dances them out to the hallway. “Dancing with my very hot boyfriend.” He brings Kris’ hand to his lips to first kiss his palm and then lick up one finger.

“There’s a baby sleeping right there,” Kris tells him.

“You were the one that said she won’t stop breathing.”

“I did, but—”

“Sssh,” Adam says, getting down on his knees in front of Kris. “Be quiet. You don’t wanna wake her again.”

 

- 3 -

Adam never knows what to expect from Cassidy’s birthday extravaganza. Fireworks? Half-naked dancers? Monkeys? Anything could happen.

He’s looking forward to it this year more so than ever before—because if Kris thinks Adam’s friends are crazy now, he has a wake-up call coming after tonight —but it turns out to be an inexplicably subdued affair this time around. Adam doesn’t know whether it’s the new guy Cassidy’s seeing, if he’s just not in the mood, or maybe he’s getting too old for it; this year, he settles on doing a small(ish) get-together in his studio, with champagne and caviar, very classy.

There’s good music though, good booze, and good company, so Adam has nothing to complain about.

Kris is not shy with Adam’s friends. Adam had been afraid that he would be when he first introduced them to him. But no, he gets along really well with Cassidy, talking music with him for hours at a time, and Adam gets the feeling that there’s a dangerous sort of alliance being formed between Kris and Brad—which, he really should be glad for, because the opposite would have been much harder to live with, but still. It is kind of terrifying.

So he’s not surprised that he loses track of Kris at the party. His first instinct is to find him to check if he’s doing okay, but he resists. Kris is a big boy after all, and they don’t need to be attached at the hip.

The studio is in an old warehouse; it has large, dirty windows covering one wall, and lots and lots of empty space. It suits Cassidy perfectly. It’s great for parties, has enough space for a stupidly large bed, and to have Cassidy’s work and art and life scattered all over—like the gallery of his very existence. Looking around, Adam can’t help but think of his own tiny apartment, made even tinier now by Kris and Dylan’s stuff, and realizes that as awesome as this is, his days of being jealous of Cassidy’s decadent living arrangements are over. He’s finally happy with what he has, and who cares if it’s something he never thought he’d want?

Adam sips champagne, chats with people he hasn’t seen in months, laughs and jokes and makes sure to mention his new boyfriend to everyone—he does like showing off his things. And when he stops in the middle of a conversation to do a total one-eighty turn where he stands, it’s not the sound of the piano that draws him in. A lot of his friends play, after all. It’s the laughter. Kris’ laughter.

Adam blinks and there Kris is. Fingers on the keys, he’s playing a playful tune, and he’s laughing at something Brad has said, his face scrunched up with it.

It’s ridiculous and undignified and he will never ever admit it to Kris, ever, but looking at Kris’ dancing eyes and the relaxed line of his shoulders—clad in the only non-plaid shirt he owns—Adam forgets to breathe.

He must be walking closer, but it feels more like he’s being pulled that way. His heart thumps in his chest impatiently, urging him on, but Adam wasn’t born yesterday; he won’t be pouncing on Kris like a desperate teenager. He schools his face to give nothing away and leans against the piano coolly, raising an eyebrow at Kris.

“You play. I didn’t know that.”

Brad looks like he’s going to burst out laughing any second. Adam ignores him.

“I didn’t tell you?” Kris asks, eyebrows drawn together. Adam shakes his head. “Oh,” Kris says. “Well. I don’t get a lot of opportunities to play anyway.”

Adam takes a generous sip from his champagne and manages not to choke on it. “Anything else you play that I should know about?”

“Well. Um. Viola?” Kris offers. “I tried a lot of different instruments, so I know a bit of everything.”

“Hmm,” Adam says. Viola. Of course. He abandons his glass on top of the piano and sits down next to Kris on the bench. “Go on,” he says, seeing that Kris has stopped. “Play me something.”

Kris starts playing again. Adam watches his fingers glide and dance on the keys.

It’s not like Adam has a piano thing. He doesn’t. He has a Kris thing. That’s the only way he can explain it. Completely innocent things somehow turn into an elaborate seduction when they’re done by Kris. Right now, Adam is pretty sure he’s flushing, because he can’t help but imagine taking Kris’ clothes off, right here, right now, and making love to him on top of this piano; Kris’ fingers dancing on his skin instead of the keys and drawing a sweet melody out of him.

He scoots closer to Kris on the bench and wraps an arm around his waist. One of his hands finds its way under Kris’ black shirt, touching the soft skin of his stomach, and he kisses Kris’ neck, lips parting for a taste.

Kris stops playing. “Um. Adam?”

“Yeah,” Adam breathes.

“What are you doing?”

“Mmm,” Adam hums against his skin. He nips at Kris’ collarbone before pulling back. “Have I told you today,” he murmurs, running a finger down the side of Kris’ face, “how unbelievably sexy you are?”

Kris gulps and doesn’t answer.

“You are. You’re the sexiest person in this room.”

Kris turns to him and leans in until their noses are touching, breathing hard and fast.

“I love you,” Adam whispers against his lips and seals their mouths, his arm tightening around Kris’ waist; Kris clutches at Adam’s arm and kisses back just as ferociously. It’s the kind of kiss Adam loves, like something out of a romance flick, spontaneous and exciting and memorable.

Kris’ taste is familiar as his own by now, and that’s apparently a turn-on for Adam; it makes him think of everywhere else he has tasted Kris and probably will again as soon as they’re home.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Brad says when they part. “I’m not even here.” He smirks and waves his champagne glass at them.

Kris licks his lips, looking bewildered, and chuckles hoarsely, before cracking up completely and hiding his face in Adam’s shoulder. Adam runs his fingers through Kris’ hair and shares a look with Brad.

The look is a blessing—mixed with envy, with maybe a touch of sadness.

Adam nods his understanding and his thanks.

Brad winks at him.

The End

January 17th, 2011