The Gift

aka the gift kiss fic

“A kiss?”

“That’s what I said.”

“From me?”

Adam rolls his eyes. He thought that was obvious. “Well, yeah.”

Kris tilts his head to the side, his eyes narrowing—it’s his ‘I think you’re shitting me, but I can’t tell for sure’ look. Adam grins at his confusion. Adorable. Kris is really just adorable.

“Like, on the lips?”

Adam would love to come up with other places Kris can kiss, but he doesn’t want to make Kris run away screaming. So he nods.

“I…” Kris’ eyes seem stuck on Adam’s lips, and when Adam licks them, just the tip of his tongue poking out, Kris flushes and looks away. He palms the back of his neck. “I don’t…”

Adam decides to put him out of his misery. “I’m fucking with you,” he says, moving his leg carefully to scoot further down the bed and rest his head on the pillows. The cast weighs a ton. It’s so not aerodynamic. “It’s the pain meds. They make me think I’m funny.”

Kris chokes a little and coughs to cover it.

“Get me an iPod,” Adam says.

“You already have three iPods.”

“I don’t have a green one,” Adam explains. He can definitely use a green iPod. It’d go well with his new jacket.

“You don’t need a green iPod,” Kris says, always the voice of reason.

Adam rolls his eyes at him, but it doesn’t have the intended effect since they’re already half-closed. “I’m not in dire need of a kiss either.”

Adam drifts off and can’t tell how much time has passed when he feels the side of the bed dip with Kris’ weight. (He knows it’s Kris’ weight; don’t ask him how.) He doesn’t open his eyes, but he can see it all too well in his mind’s eye as Kris fusses with the covers, tucking in the corners as if Adam is a kid. Adam never protests when Kris does things like this—though he’d bitch-slap anyone else who’d try it—because he enjoys being pampered, and this is the only kind of pampering that Kris is willing to give him.

And that’s fine. That’s more than fine. Adam is cool with Kris being the affectionate, platonic friend that he is. They’ve come a long way in their friendship these last few years. Adam doesn’t even come on to Kris anymore, other than when he’s high. It’s all very adult—and proper.

Adam feels a cool hand on his cheek and thinks fondly that Kris must be checking for a fever. By the time his fuzzy mind catches onto the fact that Kris wouldn’t check for a fever when Adam has a broken leg, Adam has lips on his, soft and tentative and somehow inexplicably familiar.

Adam doesn’t open his eyes, chooses to go with the feeling instead—not that he thinks this is a dream; he knows it’s not. For one thing, if it were a dream, Kris would be straddling Adam’s thighs by now, not still chastely licking his mouth, as though his tongue is unsure of its welcome. Adam arches up and grabs Kris’ shirt, bringing them closer together, and shows Kris how very welcome any part of his body is—in and against and over Adam’s.

“So I guess I don’t get an iPod,” Adam says, taking in Kris’ flushed look, a sweet pink color spreading down his neck and disappearing under his shirt. Adam’s fingers twitch against the plaid.

Kris doesn’t seem like he’s going to laugh this one off. He stares at Adam steadily, not even blinking. “Happy birthday,” he whispers.

Adam swallows hard and wonders how much more he can get away with by claiming pain medication-induced insanity. He nuzzles Kris’ cheek—how’s he supposed to resist when Kris is right there?—and lets his mouth rest on the corner of Kris’. “Can I have an early Christmas present, too?”

Kris smiles hesitantly, his lips quirking up on one side, and closes the tiny gap between their mouths.

Adam gets enough kisses to cover the next ten years’ holidays, and then stops counting.

The End

January 11th, 2010