Earth Boys Are Easy

aka the alien!adam fic

1

Kris is slightly drunk, swaying on his feet to the beat of the song in his head instead of the one blasting through the speakers, when a strange man places a mud-colored drink in front of him to replace his beer and says, “I would like to impregnate you.”

Kris splutters out a laugh. “Excuse me?”

“I have been told that it’s an Earth custom to buy your partner a drink before you approach them about such things,” the man explains.

Kris blinks at the obviously crazy person in front of him and wonders if he put something in the mud-colored drink. Not that Kris has any intention of drinking it.

“You can’t impregnate me,” Kris says, going along with the insanity. “I don’t have the parts.”

The man looks him up and down. “Your parts seem adequate to me.”

Kris snorts. “Adequate? You really need to work on your pick up lines, buddy.”

The man looks confused, a little sad even. If this is some kind of role-playing, this guy is really into his character.

“See her?” Kris says after a moment, pointing to the redhead at the other end of the bar. “You can impregnate her.” He pushes the highly-suspect drink back towards the man. No need to waste the disturbing-looking concoction.

The way the man stares at the woman – with a pout and looking a bit scared for some reason – says he’s probably not going to go for it.

He leans close to Kris and says, “But she’s not making me tickly.”

Kris stares at him, daring the man to drop the act and say he’s joking, but it doesn’t happen. Instead, he keeps fidgeting with his leather jacket uncomfortably, squirming on the bar stool like he’s getting ready to bolt.

For some reason, Kris doesn’t want him to bolt.

“Okay,” Kris says, reclaiming and taking a sip of the mud-colored drink. It tastes like pears. “So I make you tickly? How does that work?”

~

What follows is the most surreal conversation Kris has ever had with anyone – including the time Cale had drunk a bottle of tequila by himself and kept going on and on about the fairies in his cupboard.

The man, whose name is Adam, claims to be from another planet. He’s here to find a mate, start a family, and then bring the offspring back to his home as proof that his species and humans can reproduce.

(And also to meet his parents, because they are apparently very eager to have grandkids.)

The one problem with that plan – aside from it being a fantasy – is that Adam seems to only be attracted to guys.

Kris takes the time – because he honestly has nothing better to do – to point people out to Adam and see if they tickle him, but after over fifteen different subjects of both genders, he concludes that:

(a) Adam is as gay as a daffodil.

(b) Adam has a type. Which, if they needed a name for it, could be called the type that really resembles Kris Allen.

Kris would – and totally should – pat Adam on the back and tell him to try adoption instead and leave the man – alien, whatever – to his fate, but something about Adam is just... not easy to let go. And by not easy Kris means impossible.

Kris feels he has to confess at this point that he hasn’t had sex in a long time, so it’s only natural that he’s letting a crazy person hit on him, but the thing is... the thing is... Adam is really pretty, that’s the thing.

And it’s not just Kris that thinks so. The bar is full of people on the prowl, and sitting next to Adam and having them circle around their corner of the bar feels a bit like watching a documentary on Animal Planet. They make Kris feel all possessive – pretty, mine – and unexpectedly protective of Adam, who is completely clueless about what’s going on around him and is busy telling Kris about his past relationships, hands flailing, eyes earnest, and his voice – his voice warm and honest and downright enchanting.

Taking in – for the millionth time that night – the way Adam’s eyes twinkle a brilliant blue, Kris thinks that if Adam hadn’t been completely insane, Kris could have easily fallen for him.

Actually, come to think of it, even with the insanity it feels like Kris could—

“You know what,” Kris says, getting up suddenly. “It’s getting late. I should go.”

He has his jacket on before Adam can articulate a protest, and is out the door with a final friendly wave.

The cold air outside hits him like an ocean wave and makes him stumble on his feet. Kris tucks his hands in his jacket pockets and tries not to shiver. There don’t seem to be any cabs around, but that’s probably a good thing. He’ll sober up a little bit as he waits.

A moment later, he realizes the mistake he’s made by sticking around and not running far away while he still had the chance. He can see Adam from where he’s standing – and once he spots him, he can’t look away. He can see the dejected look on Adam’s face. He can see the pout on those remarkable – and freckly, he’s seen the freckles up close – lips. He can also see the man chatting a reluctant Adam up. The large, dangerous-looking, bald man – with gang tattoos climbing all the way up his arm.

If Kris had any breath left, he would have sighed long-sufferingly.

“All right, Adam, finish your drink, we’re leaving.”

Kris doesn’t look at the bald man so he won’t lose his nerve; he focuses on Adam instead. Adam, who looks like someone just handed him the moon.

“Kris,” he says, following Kris’ order without question and downing the rest of his drink in one go. “You came back.”

“Yes,” Kris says, nodding impatiently. “Now let’s go.”

Adam grins. “Okay,” he says, then he stops to apologize to the bald guy.

“Adam. Going. Now.”

“Right,” Adam says, letting himself be pulled out of the bar.

Once they’re outside, Kris lets Adam’s wrist go and tries to come up with a plan. What the hell is he going to do with Adam now?

“Kris, Kris, look,” Adam says, getting in Kris’ personal space with his cotton-candy-smelling leather jacket and his dazzling, inhuman smile. Kris blames the force of that smile for not pulling his hand away when Adam claims it and places it low on his own abdomen.

‘What? Now? Here?’ Kris thinks in a panic, until Adam says, “You made me all tickly again!” in a childishly happy voice, and presses a kiss on his cheek.

Kris takes a deep, not-all-that-fortifying breath and thinks, ‘Crap.’

 

2

When Kris doesn’t come up with a plan in the next five seconds, Adam, in all his alien wisdom, tries to help.

“This is the point where we decide to take our encounter to one of our places,” he says, looking very proud that he got all that Earth-lingo right. “And by places, I mean our places of residence. Which, for me, would be my ship.” Then he gets all excited and actually jumps up and down. “Oh. Oh. You wanna see my spaceship?”

Kris rolls his eyes. “Seriously, man. We gotta get you some help—”

But Adam doesn’t listen to him. He grabs Kris’ hand, enthusiastic but gentle, and says, “You’re going to love it.”

And then there’s a bright light.

 

3

The first thing Kris thinks upon finding himself aboard the spaceship is that the place smells a lot like pink cotton candy.

Not blue, not green, not yellow, but pink. Kris is quite sure.

Next, he notices the view.

"Holy..."

"Your planet is quite pretty," Adam says, standing right next to Kris, close enough that Kris can feel his warmth.

"That's..." Kris says, pointing dumbly towards Earth. "This isn't possible."

Adam puts an arm around him. "It really is."

Kris looks up at Adam, desperately hoping for a you're being punk'd face, but no, of course not. Adam looks earnest as ever.

"What the hell was in that drink?" Kris wonders.

"Pears," Adam tells him.

 

4

For about fifteen minutes, as he stares down at his planet FROM SPACE, Kris figures that this must be it. The weirdest thing to happen to him ever. But then Adam takes him on a guided tour of his humble ship - and Kris finds the cotton candy machine.

It's red, with golden ornate designs on its sides, and it's filled with pink cotton candy.

"Is that what I think it is?"

Adam's face crumples in response. He nods. "I'm addicted to Earth candy," he says. "It's horrible." Then he reaches up to open a cupboard - at least Kris thinks it's a cupboard; one moment there's nothing there, the next, out of nowhere, cupboard! - and all sorts of familiar confections spill out.

Kris stares at the half-eaten Snickers bar on the floor and shrugs. "Could've been worse, man."

"That is not what my Guide says!" Adam exclaims, kneeling to gather all the fallen candy. "It says Earth people care very much about appearance and that thick waists are not attractive." He stops, twists around a little bit to look down at his waist. "Be honest, Kristopher," he says, eyes worried. "Is my ass too big?"

Kris gapes at him.

Adam's shoulders drop. "It is, isn't it?"

"No, it's not," Kris says, horrified. At Adam's hopeful look, he tries to come up with something reassuring to say. "Your ass is... I mean. It's... nice. Yes."

"Really?" Adam says, walking closer on his knees. "You think so?"

Kris nods. "Totally."

"Here." Adam smiles and hands him a bag of peanut M&Ms. "I think your ass is nice, too."

 

5

Kris' favorite part of the ship, by far, is the pink room.

"It's called the bedroom," Adam insists, clutching his Guide close to his chest.

Looking around the circular room with the glass ceiling and no bed Kris shakes his head. "I think you need there to be a bed for it to qualify."

Adam smirks, holds up a hand, and then whistles. A bed comes out of the far wall and stops in front of him. Adam's face says, ta da!.

Kris crouches down to look under the bed. "Hover bed?"

"Is that not normal?"

Kris shakes his head.

Adam blinks, puzzled. "So your beds just... sit there? On the ground? All the time?"

"Hard to believe, I know," Kris says.

~

The pink carpet, though it looks like a Barbie threw up on it, is very comfortable to lie on. Kris runs his fingers through it and stares wide-eyed at the stars overhead.

"It's like Star Trek."

"I don't know what that is," Adam says sadly.

Kris waves a hand. What use would it be to explain Star Trek to Adam when his Guide has apparently taught him that on Earth monkeys are the most common household pet.

Kris yawns. How long has he been here? "It's getting late," he says. "I should probably get back." Then it occurs to him. "How am I supposed to get back?"

When Kris sits up, he finds Adam pouting up at him from the floor. "I thought we were going to have sex."

Kris chokes on his next yawn. "Where – where did you get that idea?"

"We had drinks," Adam says, sitting up and crossing his legs. "And then you came over to my place."

"Okay," Kris says, "for one thing – you kidnapped me to your place."

Adam looks like Kris just kicked his kitten.

"And for another," Kris continues, unfazed, "people don't pick up guys at bars to mate with them. Bars are for one-night stands, they're not for making babies."

"Then what do people do? I've read about the bathhouses; are they—?"

"Oh, no," Kris says. "No bathhouse for you. I think – I think you should consider a surrogate or something, because I'm serious about the men-not-having-the-necessary-parts thing."

"But the Guide says—"

"Would you shut up about the Guide?"

Adam shuts up about the Guide. And makes the most incredible petulant face Kris has ever seen. "I don't understand why we can't even try."

"It's – that's not how it works! You can’t just see someone and demand that they have your babies!”

“I didn’t demand—!” Adam rises up on his knees, hands on his hips. “I bought you a drink. With pears! That’s vitamin C, it’s good for you! And I told you about myself, and we talked, and then – and then I brought you up to my ship and shared my candy with you!” He sighs, distraught. “I gave you my last bag of M&Ms!”

When he puts it that way... it sounds kind of like a date. “Okay. So I guess this is a date. A weird one, granted, but still.”

“A date?”

“Yes. Food, drinks, getting-to-know-you talk... that’s a date.”

Adam perks up. “So we can have sex now?”

“Uh. No.” Kris gets up off the floor and extends a hand to help Adam up as well. “I’m not really a sex-on-the-first-date kinda guy.”

“Okay,” Adam says, nodding. “I like dates. Dates are fun. How many of them do you need before we can have sex?”

Kris rolls his eyes. “It’s not an exact science,” he says. “If we ever get there, I’ll let you know.” He realizes that he’s been holding onto Adam’s hand and quickly lets go. “Now. Be a gentleman and walk me home.”

~

They don’t walk so much as beam down.

At the door of his apartment, Kris takes in the hopeful look in Adam’s face and wonders what the hell he’s getting himself into. “Tomorrow night,” Kris says. “Be here at eight.”

Adam grins. “Eight. Here. Right. I can do that.”

Kris shakes his head. This is almost perverse, stringing along a completely clueless guy. And Kris is about to make it worse in three... two...

“A kiss,” Kris says, “is traditional at this point.”

Adam’s eyes open wide. “A kiss where—?”

Kris takes matters into his own hands.

 

6

Kris isn’t much of a cook, and his idea of cleaning is doing the laundry once every two weeks – three if he can get away with it. So inviting his dates over is not something he does.

With Adam, he makes an exception.

It’s out of self-preservation, really. Adam had stuck out like a sore thumb at the bar and he had apparently studied the bar scene on Earth extensively beforehand. Kris doesn’t even want to imagine what he would get up to in a restaurant, or God forbid, at the movies.

Kris orders pizza—

(“From Italy!” Adam says, snapping his fingers. Kris doesn’t have the heart to tell him it’s actually from Tony’s, down the street.)

—and sits Adam down in front of the TV to entertain him. Adam finds the sit-coms confusing, and the talk shows don’t do much for him, but then Kris finds a movie – with Gwyneth Paltrow and a very British guy – and suddenly Adam falls quiet, spellbound by the story unfolding on the screen.

The story – which, if you ask Kris, is taking for-frickin’-ever to unfold – is a love story where the lovers are forever being kept apart by life and evil relatives and many, many misunderstandings – and frankly, it makes Kris want to strangle himself to watch Gwyneth Paltrow’s face do that sad/worried frown thing. But Adam – Adam is sniffling.

“But it’s so sad,” he says, voice breaking. “She – she just wanted to be with him, and they wouldn’t let her – and then the car crash – and then he died!”

“You know it’s not real,” Kris says – that was the first thing Kris had explained about the TV. “It’s not even realistic.”

Adam shakes his head, disagreeing. “She’s such a talented actress.”

Kris is squinting at the stars in Adam’s eyes – no really, there are actual stars, he’s pretty sure – when the doorbell rings.

“The pizza!”

~

Kris doesn’t know what he did to deserve this.

Greasy food that leaves red tomato stains behind should not be sexy. Neither should a completely clueless and ridiculous alien who wants to impregnate him. But as Adam eats his pizza – having the time of his life with it, it seems – Kris can’t make himself look away from his lips.

...except for when he’s looking at Adam’s fingers.

...and then it’s back to lips, because Adam is licking his fingers, and it’s lips and fingers together, and that makes Kris’ brain short-circuit a little bit.

“I’m just – gonna...” he says, stumbling out of the living room and throwing himself into the bathroom. It’s much cooler in there. Kris splashes some water on his face, which helps with the awful flush rising up his neck, and then leans his forehead against the door until he feels calm enough to face Adam again.

(This is very uncharacteristic for him. He normally has perfect control. He hopes Adam didn’t spray him with some kind of alien pheromone.)

The TV is off when Kris makes it back. The room is quiet. And Adam has cleaned himself up; put away the pizza box even.

Something’s very wrong with the way he’s holding himself.

“Did I do something wrong?” Adam asks, more serious than Kris has ever seen him.

“What? Where did you—”

“I did, didn’t I?” Adam shakes his head. “Whatever it was, I didn’t mean to.”

“Hey.” Kris sits down on the couch, folding his legs under him. “Stop worrying so much. You’re fine. We’re fine.”

Hope looks good on Adam – not that surprising, since so far, Kris hasn’t seen anything that doesn’t. His lips move to shape a smile hesitantly, and he looks up through his lashes – and – and – that is not fair. Kris is positive, no doubt about it, that Adam knows what he’s doing – he has to, come on – but he also finds that he doesn’t care. At all.

His hands cup Adam’s cheeks, and then they’re making out like a couple of teenagers. It starts slow and fumbling, like their first kiss, but there’s something about Adam’s enthusiasm that gets Kris going. It’s the delighted sounds Adam keeps making. He sounds pleasantly surprised, which is odd, because Kris isn’t doing anything special here, but he’s not about to start complaining.

Kris kisses him again and again and deeper and nips at his lips and pulls him even closer, and when they end up horizontal, with Kris straddling Adam’s hips, Kris can’t say that he didn’t see it coming.

What he really doesn’t see coming is Adam’s reaction to his touch.

It’s not like Kris just goes for the prize. Hands under shirts is pretty tame for their age, and it is the next logical step. But Adam doesn’t look like he expected it at all. He freezes, and then shudders, and then – and then he comes, just like that, eyes rolling back in his head, body going slack under Kris.

“I’m going to keep you forever and ever,” Adam declares when he opens his eyes, sounding like liquid sex.

Kris keeps holding himself up with hands braced on Adam’s chest; he doesn’t even know what to say.

Adam squirms. “Can we do more of this? I would really like to do more of this.”

“Um.” Kris decides not to tell Adam that they were supposed to do much more – if Adam hadn’t just... “Is this not— How do your people, um, make babies?”

Adam rolls his eyes. “We are almost identical anatomically. It’s all tab a, slot c as your people say.”

“So you have had sex before?”

“Of course I have—” Then he stops, reconsiders. “Okay, like I said, I don’t have kids yet, so I never needed a slot c—”

“It’s b,” Kris corrects absently.

“Be what?”

“Never mind.”

“So. I haven’t done that. But I have had recreational sex.”

Kris isn’t sure if he wants to know, but... “Recreational sex?”

Adam nods, smiling. “Like this,” he says, placing his hands on Kris’ temples and bringing their foreheads together. When he closes his eyes, Kris follows his lead. He holds his breath and waits for something to happen, but nothing does.

“Oh,” Adam says with a disappointed pout. “I guess it doesn’t work with your species.”

He looks really bummed out about it, so Kris buries his fingers in Adam’s hair and pets him soothingly.

“You would’ve liked it,” Adam says. “It’s like this incredible connection...”

“There’s no touching?”

Adam shrugs. “It’s intimate, without the mess.”

Kris places a hand on Adam’s stomach and strokes up to his chest with a barely there touch.

Adam throws his head back and moans.

“Okay,” he says, breathless. “Maybe – not exactly the same kind of intimate...”

Kris thumbs a nipple experimentally.

Adam squeaks; his cheeks turn pink.

Kris smirks.

 

7

The first week they’re together – together as in having unhealthy amounts of sex – Adam is content with staying in. They eat, they talk, they watch TV, they have sex. Mostly the sex, but the rest also happen in between. While Kris is at work, Adam seems to shop a lot, though Kris doesn’t ask where he gets the money from. His spaceship probably has a built in ATM or something.

Two weeks in, Adam starts making noises about going out. At first, Kris is skeptical, but then he thinks screw it. If Adam can go out shopping on his own and not get arrested, then they can surely wing it at a diner.

So they go to bars, to clubs, to the movies, to museums; Kris likes showing Adam around, likes watching his face light up like a kid, likes feeding him all kinds of new candy. And he finds out at one of the clubs that he also likes showing off Adam, because – wow. The man can dance. He dances like he’s been possessed by the music, and the way his body moves and his eyes get darker... Well. Let’s just say that Kris also shows Adam how one goes about having sex in a bathroom stall as well. Wouldn’t want him to have anything less than the full Earth experience.

Three weeks in, Adam brings home a kitten, and Kris realizes that he has actually moved in.

Adam doesn’t seem to require keys to get in and out of places, and it makes sense to Kris that Adam would always be around – how can they possibly have sex all the time if Adam is up in his spaceship instead? – and when Adam buys new clothes, of course they end up in Kris’ closet – where else would they go when Adam’s bedroom doesn’t have any proper furniture? So yeah. All that apparently adds up to moving in together, which Kris should have realized sooner, but when it really sinks in for him, he’s home from work and is greeted by a tiny ball of fluff at the door.

“Um, Adam?” Kris says, frozen in place. He’s afraid to step on it.

“Hi!” Adam says running to the door in Hello Kitty pajamas and fuzzy socks. “We have a kitten! Isn’t she just the most adorable thing?”

Then Adam scoops the thing up and they snuggle and – Kris finds himself unable to say a word.

And that’s when Kris realizes that he’s not only in a relationship where moving in has happened, but he’s also whipped. Around Adam's little alien finger.

This will be a problem, Kris thinks. Who’s going to get custody when Adam leaves? Because Adam will leave. Sooner or later.

Probably sooner.

Can cats even survive on spaceships?

A loud purr from the kitten – or, wait, is it Adam? – pulls Kris’ thoughts away from Adam’s leaving. It’s just as well, because Kris doesn’t like lingering on unpleasant thoughts.

Five weeks in, they’re no longer using condoms. Adam is fascinated with the messy aspects of sex and he begs – actually, literally, begs Kris, on his knees. Kris is weak and pathetic when it comes to Adam, especially if the Adam in question is naked and kneeling, so he agrees to talk to Adam’s spaceship about it.

Which he does, at great length. The spaceship’s AI is called Angelica, who is more than a little bitchy and very overprotective of Adam, and she explains, not bothering to hide the disdain in her synthesized voice, that it’s impossible for Kris to catch anything from Adam – and vice versa – and that Adam is clean as a whistle – as a never-before-blown one, in fact. While the science talk goes way over Kris’ head, in the end it comes down to the fact that Kris does trust Adam, at least enough that he wouldn’t believe Adam would go to all this trouble to trick him, so he says whatever, let’s do it.

It’s the first time Kris has ever had unprotected sex with anyone. It’s unexpectedly hot.

But then, that’s par for the course with Adam.

 

8

Eight weeks in, it’s Thanksgiving, and after careful consideration on Kris’ part, and many hints on Adam’s, Kris decides that it wouldn’t hurt to take Adam home with him.

It is, after all, a traditional Earth holiday that Adam should experience.

Right.

“This is so odd,” Daniel says, eying Adam suspiciously.

Adam is in the kitchen, visible through the open door, observing the coordinated chaos of Kris’ mom cooking. He’s been in there since Kris’ mom asked him if he could cook. Adam is a big fan of cooking – it’s all those daytime cooking shows – but Kris has banned him from the kitchen after the melted oven incident. He’s probably having the time of his life right now and will try and bribe Kris with sexual favors to lift the ban when they’re back home again.

“That I brought home a guy?” Kris asks, leaning back deeper into the couch. This is a really comfortable couch. Despite the horrible floral print, he misses this couch.

“Well, yes, but I’ve been expecting that for a while now,” Daniel says. “I meant – look at him! Jesus! How the hell did you end up with a guy like that?”

Kris goes back and forth between feeling insulted and proud – and finally settles on amused. “Beats me,” he says. “He picked me up at a bar.”

Daniel grunts, still studying Adam like there’s going to be a quiz later. “I guess he was desperate. He doesn’t sound dumb. And he seems actually nice. Does he have a super secret shameful past or something? Did he use to be a prostitute? Rent boy? Escort?”

Kris glares. “He can’t just like me? Thank you, really. Glad to know you have my back.”

“Just being realistic, man. He’s way, way, way out of your league.”

“Yeah, well,” Kris says, snappish. “He does really like me. Enough to pick me up at a bar and date me for two months. And he really is as awesome as he looks.” Daniel doesn’t seem convinced, so Kris continues, letting himself get nasty. His brother just brings it out in him. “Even the sex is awesome. You know, he has this huge dick? Like, seriously huge. And man, does he know what to do with it...”

Making a pained face, Daniel runs away. Kris cackles after him.

Until he remembers that Daniel’s actually right and his grin falls off his face. Adam does have a secret, and the reason he’s with Kris – the reason that he doesn’t mind the minimum wage salary, and the crappy apartment, and the crappy life – is that he doesn’t know any better. He doesn’t need any better.

To Adam, Kris is exotic and that’s all he has to be.

His fling with the Earthling. That’ll make a great story when Adam makes it back home.

~

Thanksgiving at home is all about tradition: the traditional dinner, the traditional chatter, the traditional music. As soon as everyone’s settled in the living room with drinks, Kris sits in front of the piano and his dad picks up the guitar and they sing – song after song.

Adam is surprisingly good with people, he’s effortlessly charming, but Kris can tell that he’s especially fond of Kris’ mom. He sits next to her in the loveseat, sips from his drink, and lets her tell him stories – probably embarrassing ones of Kris’ childhood – and laughs that eye-crinkling laugh of his.

Kris lets his fingers dance on the keys and closes his eyes, making himself calm down – his sudden pissy mood is not going unnoticed – and take in the moment. The music. The laughter. The warmth. It’s not every day he can come back home. He should try to enjoy it while he’s here.

When he finally opens his eyes, Adam is sitting next to him.

“This is so beautiful,” Adam says, eyes on the keys. “Why don’t you have one at home?”

“It’s expensive,” Kris says, keeping his voice low. “And where would I put it?”

“I don’t know,” Adam says, following the lines of the instrument with a fingertip. “But you should have one anyway.”

Kris wants to snap, to tell him how he doesn’t know a thing about real life, but bites back the words. This isn’t Adam’s fault. Adam has always been perfectly open and honest; he never claimed to know or care about ‘real life.’ It’s Kris’ fault that he got attached, expected more than he should – that he let himself get carried away.

Adam scoots a little closer. “Is this okay...” he whispers, tentatively wrapping an arm around Kris’ waist. Kris feels the warmth of Adam’s hand settling on his hip through his clothes and it breaks something inside him.

He looks up at Adam, their faces right up against each other, Adam’s eyes huge and questioning. Why, he thinks. Why is Adam even here? Why is he making small talk with Kris’ parents? Why is he trying to tone down the PDA? Why is he in a tiny house in Arkansas, when he can be anywhere in the world, picking up any guy he wants, touching them without worrying about their parents?

And why is it that Kris cares? Why did he even bring Adam here?

What the hell are they even doing?

With a discordant smash of the keys, Kris gets up and leaves the room. He needs some air.

 

9

“You said no sex,” Adam says, walking up to Kris hesitantly. “You didn’t say no touching at all. I didn’t think it would—I’m sorry.”

Kris kicks the tree – his tree, the one that has branches reaching all the way up to Kris’ old room – and blurts out the question he should have asked weeks ago. “Why are you here?”

Adam looks confused – his lips do that unsure frowny thing Kris can’t help but find adorable. “You were angry,” Adam says. “I wanted to see—”

“No,” Kris says, shaking his head. “Not here here.” He gestures around the backyard. “Here as in here,” he says, arms flailing to indicate the whole planet. “As in on Earth. As in with me.”

Adam blinks, his frown grows deeper. “I don’t understand.”

Kris takes the one step that’ll bring him into Adam’s personal space and pokes him in the chest with a finger. “I mean I’m not about to have your babies. You know that and I know that. So what are you doing? Why are you in Arkansas with me? What’s in it for you?”

Kris knows he’s said something very stupid and hurtful even before he sees Adam’s face close up.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, falling back against the trunk of the tree and palming his face. “I’m just—I’m. Confused.”

“Do you want me to leave?” Adam asks after a long pause. “I thought—I didn’t realize—”

Kris takes a deep breath. “Fuck.”

Adam has his arms crossed over his chest, and he looks – he looks like he’s trying to look angry. Kris wants to hug him and take him home and put him to bed and never let him leave.

“It’s not about what I want,” he says. “You didn’t come here for me. You came here for a reason. And it’s been two months and – I just need to know what your plan is.”

Adam shrugs, shoulders tense. “It’s not so much a plan as... I was playing it by ear.”

Kris’ chest feels too tight. He shouldn’t have had that last serving of turkey. “What does that mean?”

Adam shrugs again. “It means that my plan depends on what you want, so it’s sort of fluid right now...”

Kris tries to make sense of that sentence... “Can you stop talking in riddles for one second and just tell me—”

Adam throws his hands up and then brings them down to slam Kris against the tree. “My plan is to stay for as long as you want me to stay. And if you want to go to Arkansas, or New Zealand, or the Arctic, my plan is to come along. And if I can convince you to meet my parents one day, my plan is to take you home for a visit.”

“How about—I thought—” Kris blames Adam’s weight against his chest for how breathless he is. That’s why he can’t get the words out, surely. “Babies?”

Adam nuzzles his cheek. “We can keep trying,” he says. “I’m not in a hurry.”

“Adam, you know that’s not gonna—”

Adam presses even closer and says, “Kris, do you really want to discuss that right now?”

Kris decides that he really doesn’t.

 

10

Adam beams them up to his spaceship.

It could be partially Kris’ fault for telling him to do it do it do it now, Adam, but whatever. That’s not important. What matters is that they finally have some privacy. That Kris’ parents aren’t in the next room. That they have a bed.

They don’t normally have sex in the spaceship, because (a) the bed is pink, and (b) the fact that Angelica is watching creeps Kris out. But right now, Kris could care less. He’s hard, and he’s hot, and his extremities are tingling as if he’s slept in an awkward position. He needs to touch Adam before he explodes into a million tiny pieces. He’ll worry about everything else later.

Like how he’s going to explain their disappearance to his parents. Later. Much later.

They tumble down onto the impossibly soft bed in a tangle of limbs, which is a familiar problem and sorted out pretty quickly. Arms and legs fall where they should, fingers find buttons, lips meet and separate and meet again. Adam produces lube from God knows where and then he’s pushing inside Kris, slow but barely controlled; Kris has had enough of his freaky alien control though, so he wraps his arms and legs around him and pulls him in.

“Kris, wait, let me—”

Kris tightens his fingers in Adam’s hair. “Move.”

Adam looks down at him, eyes heavy-lidded, lips parted, shoulders so tense that Kris wants to ride him until he’s melted into the bed. Then he nods, just once, and starts moving with purpose, gaze fixed firmly on Kris’ face to check if it’s enough – and it’s never enough, but it’s also the only thing that will do. Kris tries to tell him that, but his words are gone; what leaves his lips is a jumble of meaningless sounds – needy, desperate sounds.

When Kris comes – finally, forever later – it’s with a whimper, because that’s all he’s capable of. Adam seems to be doing somewhat better; Kris hears him call Kris’ name and feels his hips stutter before he collapses on top of Kris like a hot, sweaty blanket and stays there.

They sleep.

~

It’s impossible to tell the time in the spaceship, but Kris guesses that it’s only been a couple of hours. He’s been tucked under the covers – Adam has this irrational fear that Kris will catch a cold and die – and he’s warm and comfortable with his head resting on Adam’s bare chest.

He pulls back a little, grabbing a pillow to stuff under his head, and bites his lip to quell the rising panic.

They had a serious relationship talk. They had a serious relationship fight. And now – they have a serious relationship?

Kris hasn’t had a proper relationship in a long, long time. He’s been busy with trying to stand on his own two feet and working crappy jobs and trying to get his demo out. And now – now that he finally finds someone worth rearranging his priorities for, it’s an alien?

How is this going to work? It’s not going to work! Adam has no idea what the hell he’s doing. He’s traveling around the universe in his stupid spaceship and picking up strange guys in alien planets and – what? Kris is the best thing in the whole universe? It doesn’t make any sense. Adam doesn’t understand—

“Hey,” Adam says, voice hoarse and, damn him, so sexy. “You’re thinking too hard again. Your face is doing that thing—”

Kris sits up. He doesn’t care if his face is doing that thing right now. “Adam. Look. I like you. I know you like me. But. But this is—we can’t be serious with this.”

Adam rolls onto his back and gives him a long-suffering look. “Why not?”

“Because—because I’m not all there is. There are billions of people on this planet alone. You can’t just stick to the first one you met and take him home to Mama. That’s not—”

With a move he must have learned from TV, Adam tackles Kris down and rolls on top of him. “Nah-ah,” he says when Kris tries to move his arms, pinning them on either side. “Stay.”

Kris glares. “What?”

“It’s okay for you to take me home to your mother but not for me to take you?”

Kris doesn’t have an answer for that one. Well, he does, but he doesn’t know how to say it without sounding like a selfish dumb-ass.

Adam looks distraught, scowling darkly. He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he spreads Kris’ legs open and pushes inside, fast and forceful, stretching him, making him gasp and squirm with the burn. He thrusts in, again and again, holding Kris’ gaze as if he’s trying to fuck him into submission, but Kris shakes his head – that’s not how it works. Sex is one thing, commitment is another, and this isn’t right, so many things Adam doesn’t understand about it, so many things that can – will – go wrong...

Adam cups the sides of Kris face and presses their foreheads together, lining up their faces to lick Kris’ lips open, graceless and sloppy. “You’re so damn difficult, I don’t know what the hell to do with you,” Adam says into his mouth, and Kris is about to retort with something hopefully better than ‘ditto’ when he feels something in the vicinity of his temple give way and Adam floods in.

Kris sees stars. He sees strange galaxies flying past. He sees neon green waters, and a red moon, and a house built into an enormous tree. It’s too much, too fast, feelings and pictures and sounds and scents; he can’t tell them apart – and then it slows down and he sees himself.

Through Adam’s eyes, Kris looks exactly the way he knows himself to be: tired, scruffy, short, average. But he’s also brighter than everything else, and he makes Adam feel something Adam doesn’t know how to name. Ten minutes ago, Kris wouldn’t have believed him even if he had managed. Now, believing doesn’t figure into it. Now, Kris knows.

Kris opens his eyes first and gets to watch as Adam’s lashes flutter and part. Adam’s eyes are shining bright and his smile covers half his face.

“I make you feel tickly! You can’t hide it now!”

There is no stopping Kris’ sappy grin. “Yeah. You got me.”

Adam brushes their grins together in an uncoordinated kiss, followed by a better, deeper one that goes on long enough to leave them both breathless.

“I’m gonna—” Adam moves his hips experimentally, reminding Kris that they were in the middle of something. “We’ll do this,” he says, pulling out just a fraction and pushing back in. “And then we can—I can show you my world. I can—I can show you how to have sex with your mind. And—can I? I wanna see what you see. Would that be okay?”

Kris clutches Adam’s shoulders, raises his hips, and nods. They can mind-meld or whatever. And he can teach Adam what it means when someone makes you tickly in your stomach and in your heart. But first—they should do this. Yes.

“Yes.”

 

Epilogue

Having no natural daylight in the spaceship is getting to Kris. Especially in the mornings. It just doesn’t feel like a new day unless the sun is out.

But there’s something to be said for being woken up with a kiss.

“Mmmm, good morning,” Kris mumbles against Adam’s lips.

Adam grins. “It worked,” he says.

Kris rubs his eyes. “What worked?”

“Angelica wasn’t sure, and I didn’t want to get your hopes up, but – Kris, it worked!”

Kris tries to sit up and realizes that his shirt has been pushed up and Adam’s palms are cupping his stomach. “Um. Adam?”

Adam squirms happily. “We’re going to have a baby.”

Kris tells his brain to reboot. Reboot, now. Surely he’s not awake? This is a dream. It has to be.

Adam gets up, dancing towards the door. “So many things to do! Planning! And shopping! And Angelica’s going to have to build us a nursery! So exciting! My parents are going to be psyched!”

Kris stares after him, wide awake and still frozen in place.

“Oh,” Adam says, appearing in the doorway again. “Do you want to tell Miss Fluffers or should I?”

Kris says, “I don’t... Adam?

“Okay,” says Adam, holding his hands up. “I’ll take care of it. You just rest.”

Then he winks and disappears again.

Kris pushes his shirt back down and quietly hyperventilates.

The End

December 7th, 2010