The Date

sequel to epiphany

They kiss for almost an hour that night.

Kris is a puddle by the time they get home, but he is a very friendly puddle, who drapes himself all over Adam and kisses him slow and sleepy until he passes out. Adam follows soon after, because even though he knows he should be worried, the warmth and the smell and the feel of Kris against him is impossible to resist; it fogs up his brain and makes rational thought impossible.

The morning brings a healthy dose of freaking out for Adam along with a whole lot of sunshine and a slight headache around his eyes. He wakes up early and has to wait three hours for Kris to finally return to the land of the living to give him a clue as to where they are standing. But Kris' clues are clear as mud on a good day, which today is categorically not an example of.

The first thing Kris tells him when he wakes up is that he is dying. The second is a groan Adam might have appreciated under different circumstances. Right now, he finds it kind of annoying. But it's impossible to stay angry at Kris when he can't even keep his head up long enough to drink the coffee Adam makes for him. He looks pitiful, lying on the couch, still and helpless like a beached whale, his face buried in a pillow. Adam pets his greasy hair and makes soothing noises at him.

Adam does not like getting his hopes up. That's why when Kris says nothing about the night before—well, except for oh my god, what the hell did you make me drink—he decides to take that to mean that Kris doesn't remember it. And that's fine. It's not like they promised to be each other's one and only or anything. It was just a couple of harmless kisses. Done and forgotten. Just like that.

So he goes about his day; shopping, yoga, lunch with mom, and brings Kris a smoothie when he comes back, because he is just that good a friend. It's not until that afternoon that he remembers his date and starts worrying all over again.

Kris is watching TV, his cheek smushed against a pillow, eyes half closed because he says the light is trying to crawl inside his head and eat his brain, and Adam sits there filing his nails quite unnecessarily and working on his carefree face. It takes him a good half an hour, but in a sudden burst of courage, he finally blurts it out.

"So I just remembered that I have a date tonight."

He doesn't look up at Kris. It's a perfectly normal thing to mention. If Kris doesn't remember, then he'll think Adam is only telling him because Kris is sick and he doesn't want to leave him alone. If he does remember, then he’ll think... Actually Adam has no idea what he'll think. Who knows what Kris thinks at any given moment anyway?

"Hmm," Kris says, just a sound, not even a word.

"I don't have to go," Adam says casually. "I mean..."

"No, no," Kris interrupts him, waving a hand. "You should go." He offers Adam a pathetic smile. "Go out, have fun. I'll probably fall asleep in front of the TV anyway."

Kris turns back to the cooking show he's been watching and Adam blinks at him stupidly. So that's it? Just go out and have fun? He tells himself there's no point getting angry over this since Kris obviously doesn't remember, but Adam was never the most rational person to begin with, so he feels free to fume. He takes a shower, a storm raging inside him the whole time, dresses up in his tightest pair of jeans and puts on his fiercest eyeshadow. He is not one to be pushed around. Even if Kris doesn't realize what he did—well, he damn well should. No one disses Adam Lambert; even memory loss is not a good enough excuse.

"I'm leaving," he says, standing at the door of the living room, and raises an eyebrow at Kris. Kris doesn't look particularly impressed; instead he seems kind of fond and doting, like he is someone's grandfather, and waves at Adam wistfully.

Well, fuck him, Adam thinks, grabbing his coat and turning around. "I won't bring him home, but don't wait up for me," he calls without looking back. If they are doing the friends thing, there's nothing wrong with complete honesty—or a little made up truth, anyway.

The door closes behind him with a soft click.

~

It is extremely annoying for Adam that his date crashes and burns, especially because it’s all Kris’ fault.

Adam is completely off his game. He is not interested in the guy; he can’t even pretend to be interested in the guy. He keeps finding himself drifting away while the guy babbles on, thinking about what Kris must be doing at home. Alone. Sick. There’s no one to prepare something to eat for him, and Adam just knows Kris didn’t have dinner. Because Kris is like that, he has an aversion to taking care of himself when he gets so much as a headache. He’s like a little kid. He needs constant supervision.

Adam hates eating his words. He would have preferred to not go home at all that night. Because if there is the slightest chance that Kris will be jealous, he’d like to take it. Vengeful bitch, a lot of his exes have called him, and Adam never denied that it was the truth. He likes to share the misery.

But unfortunately, Ricky, the guy he is out with, is a bore, and Adam is not the least bit interested in fucking him. Maybe he would have, if last night hadn’t happened, but it did, and life is a bitch, and now his standards have risen up to the impossible levels of Kris Allen. He knows it’ll take a while to get them down again. He will need time and vodka and the company of his right hand.

~

He lets himself into the apartment and tiptoes to the living room where he can hear the TV still droning on. Kris is sprawled over the couch, unmoving, but his eyes blink open when Adam steps closer. Adam can tell he wasn’t asleep. He’s seen Kris waking up enough times to tell the difference.

Kris sits up in a hurry, but not before Adam catches the weary look in his eyes. Pity party, Adam thinks, taking in the glass of bourbon—of all things!—on the floor and the sad, almost grieving expression on Kris’ face. Kris wipes a hand over his face, wincing at what Adam is guessing is a tripled headache.

“You’re home early?” Kris says, trying to sound cheerful. He sounds more like someone stepped on his balls.

“Yeah. What the fuck?” Adam says, picking up the glass and taking a sip from it. It’s bourbon alright. Kris can’t even stomach beer.

“Hair of the dog?” Kris offers.

“Yeah, no,” Adam says, shaking his head. “That’s not how that works.”

He sits down on the couch, throws back the rest of the drink in one gulp and lets his head fall back on the cushions. “Did you even have supper?” he asks Kris, who looks away and busies himself with the frayed edges of his t-shirt.

“Nah. Didn’t feel like it.”

Adam sighs. What is he going to do with this guy?

“So, you, uhm.” Kris clears his throat. “Not a good date?” he asks nervously.

Adam lets his head loll to the side to face him. “No, it was good,” he says casually.

“Oh,” Kris says, avoiding his eyes. “I just. It’s early.”

Adam considers the picture in front of him. The nervousness, the drinking, the pathetic face. He knows what this is. There is, of course, a margin of error here, and that’s too important to ignore, because their friendship is…kind of invaluable, but Adam doesn’t think he’s wrong. He knows about these things.

 “I can’t believe you,” he says, sitting sideways and pulling one leg on the couch. “You’re jealous.”

Kris looks panicked, eyes wide and scared.

“You remember!” Adam states, pointing an accusing finger at Kris.

Kris does the perfect imitation of a goldfish. “I…I…remember what?”

“Last night.”

“Of course I remember last night,” Kris says, taken aback.

Adam throws his hands up in the air and lets his voice go up a notch. “Then why the hell did you tell me to go out with another guy?”

“I was trying to be cool about it!” Kris yells back at him.

They stare at each other for a minute and then Kris slumps with a sigh. “We didn’t exactly talk last night. I mean, I kissed you a lot, and you didn’t say stop, but that was it.” He looks down at the throw pillow between them. “I didn’t want to, like, presume anything, you know?”

Adam’s heart does a little wiggle in his chest and he finds himself crawling over to the other side of the couch to cup Kris’ chin in his hand and make him look up. He shouldn’t forgive so easily, that’s not like him at all, but he can’t resist the sad puppy eyes. And the pouting lips. There’s just no way.

“I was trying to be cool,” Kris whispers.

Adam shakes his head. Kris is an idiot.

Kris opens his mouth to say something even more idiotic. Adam shuts him up with a kiss.

~

They are lying on the couch—well, Adam is lying on the couch, Kris is mostly just lying on him—and they have been kissing for a long time, with both of them almost sober this time. Adam’s neck is hurting from looking down, but he can’t take his eyes away from Kris’ lips; they are wet and red and pouty and very, very tempting. Adam wants to take a picture of him like this, head resting on Adam’s chest, his eyes smiling up at him and looking so bright.

He looks like joy and sex and love.

“So how was your date?” Kris asks, giving him the shy and jealous look from earlier.

Adam rolls his eyes.

“What?” Kris shrugs. “I’m just asking.”

Adam gives him a look that says yeah, sure.

“Are you going to see him again?” Kris asks, his tone soft and cautious.

Adam’s raises an eyebrow at him in challenge. “I don’t know. Am I?”

Kris freezes, not even breathing, his eyes locked on Adam’s. Then he slowly shakes his head. “No,” he says firmly. “No, you’re not.”

Adam grins. “That’s what I thought,” he says, running a hand through Kris’ hair. “Cause you know, my boyfriend is the jealous type.”

Kris snorts and hides his face in Adam’s chest. Adam feels his grin against his skin.

The End

August 31st, 2009