Fandom: American Idol RPS
Rating: R for language and sexuality
Summary: Too many shots + a flirty Adam = danger, Kris Robinson! Danger!
Disclaimer: None of this is real. I do not mean any harm nor do I make any money from this. I claim no rights to any person/character mentioned herein.
Notes: Every time I tried to get out of Adam/Kris slash, it just pulled me back in. So, here’s my contribution to the insanity. I only saw the season finale, but that's not a warning. Haha, I promise.
Comments/critiques will make me sing and dance for you.
The last three men standing decide to celebrate this fact by hitting exactly one, low-key bar (by L.A. standards) for a few drinks before curfew.
Kris is feeling good. This is his dream, he’s living it, and even if he wakes up now, it was still one hell of a ride. Even the sight of Gokey’s smiling face doesn’t make his hand automatically curl into a fist. That means nothing can ruin this night.
Yeah, and pretty much the exact moment he thinks this, things take a turn for the worse.
Kris’ good-time buzz is rudely jarred by Adam’s sly half-smile and the demure lowering of those ridiculously smoky eyes.
And why should this ruin Kris’ happy times? Because those flirtatious looks are not directed at him, but some Adonis-like creature who manages to make Adam look like a dainty little flower.
And, of course Adam would be able to find the one packin’ and interested gay guy in what Kris had thought was a straight bar (L.A., Kris. Remember?)
Kris finishes the one beer he’s been nursing for most of the night and starts in on the hard stuff.
Yeah, he tells the smirking bartender (all-knowing bastard), start me a tab.
When Gokey slaps his fourth vodka shot out of his hand, Kris admits defeat and slumps against the bar.
His spirits immediately rise when Adam doesn’t protest against Gokey telling him it’s time to go and once again, it’s just the three of them. Kris cheerfully slings his arm around Adam’s shoulders as they leave, trading a goofy smile for the other man’s small, but genuine one.
However, Kris forgets that he’s kind of drunk at this point and his judgment and perception of reality are not to be trusted.
So, it takes much, much longer than it usually would for him to process the fact that Adam is not coming to their room.
And no he did not sneak that Perseus-looking motherfucker into the mansion.
Alcohol has Kris’ inhibitions in a chokehold, so when he gracefully extracts himself (i.e. falls) out of bed and stalks determinedly out of the room to find his roommate, there is nothing to stop him.
Kris is stumbling his way past another random room when the muffled sound of Adam being mercilessly fucked punches him in the chest and he almost ends up flat on his back in the middle of the hallway.
It feels like someone shoved a lit match down his throat and ignited all the alcohol that is still roiling around in his belly.
Adam is whining and moaning like he’s being split in two, and damn it, who the hell is that guy? John Holmes? (So his porn references are out of date. He’s not a perv, geez.)
Whatever position they’re in, it seems to be hitting Adam in just the right way…
Don’t, you asshole. Don’t you dare try to imagine it.
Yeah, Kris has got a (good) idea what guys can do together. They have high-speed Internet in Arkansas. (Not that he was looking for it… Sometimes his spam blocker sucks, okay?)
So, the bar guy is probably going to steamroll him, but this undeniable threat just ain’t enough today. (Besides, what if he goes into some kind of 'roid-rage and Adam is left all alone with him? And there, see? Kris’ intentions are noble.)
Now, default “awww-shucks” Kris would have just hung his head and shuffled back to their room with his tail (and hand) between his legs.
Drunk, pissed-off, and rock-hard Kris doesn’t roll like that.
He pounds his fist against the door.
Adam’s whimpering breaks off instantly and the silence is loaded.
A little bit of uncertainty finally trickles into Kris, but it’s too late now. May as well embrace his inner-bitch.
“Adam! Come out here!”
Okay, he’s not quite sure what he was trying for, but den-mother wasn’t it. Oh well.
Kris jams his hands into his jeans’ pockets (not sure what the sight of a mid-fuck Adam is going to do to him) and waits.
He’s coming, his alcohol-enhanced confidence assures. Be patient.
Sure enough, maybe a minute after the demand, the door opens just wide enough for Adam to slip out and then is immediately shut again.
Adam leans against it and stares down at Kris with a kohl-smudged mixture of amusement and confusion.
Kris is (glad? disappointed? dumbstruck-stupid?) to see that his friend has pulled back on his pants from earlier, but is still gleaming all glitter-sweaty and bare-chested.
(It’s fucking distracting.)
“You wanted something?” Adam asks with perfect composure, his bright eyes sweeping across Kris’ funny-looking face.
Kris doesn’t know how to answer that. Fortunately, the primitive part of his brain does.
“Tell that… john to fuck off.”
“John?” Adam’s (too shiny) lips twist, “Honey, I am not being paid for this.”
“John, trick, whatever. Tell him to fuck off.”
“It’s so cute to hear words like that coming from your mouth.”
“You do it. Or I will.”
Adam surprises them both by bursting into laughter. It’s not cruel or mocking, but it strangles Kris’ heart just the same.
Adam shifts against the door and his knee almost hits Kris’. He hadn’t realized he’d gotten so close.
“Okay, I’m intrigued. What’s going on here, Kris?”
“You belong in our room. With me.”
And, shit. Is that what this is really all about?
Kris listens for the clink-clink, but no: his balls have not turned to brass.
Adam stares at him hard. Kris stares right back (hell, if he looks at anything other than Adam’s face, he’s going to be in trouble… And who is he kidding? He’s up to his neck in it already).
Adam doesn’t say anything more and goes back into the room.
Kris may still be drunk, but he isn’t blind.
A few moments later, Hercules/Zeus/Whatever, emerges abruptly from the room, cursing stupid, fickle bitches.
He catches sight of Kris standing slightly off to the side and narrows his eyes.
“Really?” he turns back to Adam with an incredulous look, “Really? ”
Adam shrugs and continues to usher the trick down the hall.
“What can I say? I like ‘em short and straight.”
Kris isn’t blind or stupid, so he doesn’t bother challenging the bar guy. Obviously, he’s the winner in this anyway.
Instead, he returns to their room and starts to wonder if Adam is going to have to finish what he, Kris, has started.
His drunken bravado is finally abandoning him and he’s left being shy, head-ducking, Arkansas-Kris again.
Damn it, couldn’t it have waited until after he managed to get Adam under him (or over him or… shit, he really hasn’t thought this thing through!)
Not that he thinks Adam is going to need a lot of persuasion, but still… he was hoping to look like he has some kind of skill in seduction. But, can you really seduce a master-seducer?
He takes off his shirt (good start) and jumps on Adam’s bed, just in case the other man was even the slightest bit unclear what Kris is after. Even though the details are muddy in Kris’ own head, he knows this much for sure: he wants to do naked things with his friend...
Oh, shit… And out with his bravado goes his disinhibition… and that useful blanket that had been smothering his higher cognitive processes. Now, he’s forced to think… and it’s not pretty.
Adam is his friend… And just his friend because he’s… (go on, Kris) a married man.
By the time Adam enters the room, Kris is feeling like a total jerk. Here he is, demanding that his friend (who had undoubtedly been getting jack-hammered to heaven) drop everything and indulge him. And, by all accounts, he isn’t even available to participate.
“Oh, God,” Adam sighs, further porcupine-ing his hair with a rough hand when he sees Kris’ face, “You’ve changed your mind.”
“Yeah, I had,” Kris sits up on the side of the bed and holds out his hand to Adam, “Right up until you came in here and reminded me why I got drunk in the first place.”
“Enlighten me,” Adam says warily, but he steps slowly across the room and takes Kris’ hand, allowing himself to be pulled between the other man’s thighs.
“Because you make my life both more real and more insane than anyone else I’ve ever met.”
Kris watches Adam intently when he says this, to be damn sure he believes him. In that moment, he’d do anything to prove how much he means it.
He palms those expressive hips gently, holding Adam close. The darker man sways in his hands a little, but he doesn’t break away.
“I would have expected that trick to be gone before I woke up. You? Not so much.”
It’s Adam’s last warning that this isn’t just his usual one-nighter.
“I’ll be here,” Kris promises, pulling Adam down on top of him so he can kiss away any lingering taste of that bar guy and put his own mark on what’s his. Adam melts against him, his weight warm and delicious.
If Kris had any doubt that this wasn’t right, it goes poof with the way they fit so perfectly together.
“You better be,” Adam nips at his lower lip before licking away the sting, “I know where you sleep.”
“Yeah," Kris grins, slipping his hands down the back of Adam's too-tight pants, "With you.”