did i find you, or you find me? : part 1 of 2
Title: did I find you, or you find me?
Fandom: American Idol RPS
Pairing: Adam Lambert/Kris Allen
Rating: NC-17-ish (only at the end)
Words: 12,300 (oh my god, I’m sorry, I don’t even know how that happened)
Summary: Set throughout Season 8 and after the tour. The Incredible/Impossible True Adventure of Two Boys in Love
Author’s Note: I wrote most of this before any story about the nail polish came out, sooo…I’m pretending this is how it really went down instead. Written in exchange for Kris & Adam votes (ellelee requested a continuation of sing me something brave from your mouth, which this is not, but it’s close, and kudra2324 requested a timestamp after the show) and also written, as always, for miss_bennie <3
Disclaimer: Complete and total fiction, except for the vague pre-finale timeline and the documented and factual awesomeness of all members of both the Lambert and Allen families. Kris, if anyone ever emails this to you, I hope you appreciate my forbearance with profanity for you. Adam, you got profanity a-go-go. Fuckin’ cheers, man.





Sushi is their thing. Allison is a sushi fiend; she’d eat it twice a day if she had her way. Whenever they have down time, whenever they’re on their own for lunch, it’s the first thing out of her mouth.

“Let’s go for sushi!” she’ll say, clapping her hands in excitement and bouncing on the balls of her feet like she’s some sort of human pogo stick. It’s the same way she reacts to almost everything: new clothes, bulldogs, cheesecake, seeing Zac Efron. Sometimes Kris is afraid she’s going to break from her enthusiasm.

Kris doesn’t like sushi much himself. He’s had it before, he’s just never liked the texture. Stupid Gokey, the first thing he said when Allison suggested going for sushi their first week in the mansion was, “I bet you’ve never even seen sushi before, huh Kris?” Kris had wanted to pop him in the mouth. Sometimes when he’s around Danny he has to remind himself that he’s a Christian.

Adam had rolled his eyes. “He’s from Arkansas, not the moon.” He’d looped an easy arm around Kris’ neck, craned his head down until he could look into Kris’ eyes. “You want to come for sushi, don’t you buddy?”

“I love sushi,” Kris said firmly. Danny had looked irritated. It's like he automatically expects Kris to agree with him or be on his side. All it does is make Kris want to be on the opposite side even more.

“That’s my boy,” Adam grinned, and they traipsed out to the car leaving Danny behind them to grumble, Allison bouncing out ahead. Of course, the trouble with lying about your fondness for sushi means you end up spending a lot of meals picking at raw fish and thinking wistfully of a cheeseburger while Adam and Allison happily plow through a metric ton of seaweed. He ends up making a lot of late night runs to In-N-Out. He could just not go with them. He could eat by himself, or stay at the house with Danny or Scott or whoever’s around. But there are some things and some people Kris is prepared to make sacrifices for.

*****

“So do you want to talk about the pictures?”

It’s the first thing Adam’s said for hours. He looks at Kris with that disarming frankness of his, though it’s underlain with uncertainty, something Kris isn’t used to seeing on Adam’s face. Kris had just thought Adam was tired from dealing with the fallout. The show handlers had not been pleased when the pictures of Adam and his ex started making the rounds. But it hadn’t occurred to Kris that Adam might be unsure of his reception. He immediately feels bad for not saying something earlier.

“No, no, I’m cool with it,” he says. “I mean, not that you need my permission or anything.”

“I’d have to get a lot of retroactive permission if I did,” Adam says with a wry grin. Kris laughs and shakes his head.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” Adam says. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

“No, I mean it.” Adam taps Kris lightly on the shoulder to get Kris’ attention. His expression is so earnest and open that it makes Kris feel like someone’s ripping his heart out of his freakin’ chest. It’s some weird side effect of being around Adam, everything seems more intense. “It means a lot to me that you’re so cool about this.”

“Of course.” He grips Adam’s arm, gives it a friendly squeeze. Adam’s relief is palpable. Kris suddenly wonders how many people stopped touching Adam when they found out. Just the thought makes him angry, and he tightens his grip harder than he’d intended to. Adam doesn’t even flinch.

“We can still talk about it if you want, though,” Adam offers after Kris has flopped onto his bed with his guitar, idly strumming the strings with his thumb. “I mean, if you have any questions or anything.”

“We have TV and the internet in Arkansas, you know,” Kris reminds him with a laugh. “This isn’t an entirely new phenomenon to me. I even saw an episode of Queer as Folk once.”

“Okay, okay,” Adam chuckles. “Point taken. But the door’s open.”

“Okay.”

*****

“She has got some kinda crush on you,” Kris tells Adam. Allison is fast asleep on Adam’s shoulder. The movie ended an hour ago, but Adam didn’t seem to want to wake her, so he’s been sitting stock still on the couch, flipping through the fashion magazines that are all over the house, a legacy of Alexis’ relatively brief stay. The two of them are still there even after Kris has checked email, called Katy, and made himself a sandwich.

“It’s innocent,” Adam says in a low voice, giving a lopsided shrug with his Allison-free shoulder. “I’m a safe target. Better for her to practice on me than on some asshole that’ll break her heart.”

“You’re such a softie,” Kris laughs. “Like a roasted marshmallow.”

“Flaming?” Adam suggests with an arched brow.

“No, soft and gooey under your blackened exterior after you’ve been roasted over a campfire in the woods. Except you don’t camp.”

“Oh honey, I camp. I don’t go camping, but I camp.” Adam purses his lips dramatically. Kris smiles.

“We should probably get her to bed,” he says. Adam looks loathe to wake her. He’d probably sit there like a statue until sunrise rather than wake her up. Kris throws him a rope.

“C’mon Alli, time for bed.” Kris takes her wrist and gently pulls her away from Adam’s shoulder so Adam can stand.

“Don’ wanna,” Allison mumbles. Her face is scrubbed clean, her lips pale without their normal gloss. It makes her hair look even more brilliant.

“Let’s go, baby girl,” Adam says. Together he and Kris lever her to her feet. Adam crouches in front of her. “I’ll give you a piggyback ride.”

“’Kay.” She drapes her arms around Adam’s neck and rests her head on his shoulder. “Giddyup,” she says sleepily.

“Slap his butt, that’ll make him go faster,” Kris suggests.

“Do it and die,” Adam threatens. Allison seems to be asleep again. If she were awake, Kris is pretty sure she’d be happy to do some slapping. They maneuver down the hallway to her room, Kris keeping them from bumping into walls. When they get to her room, Adam sits on the edge of her bed and carefully tilts her back onto the mattress. Kris leans against the doorframe and watches Adam tuck her feet under the sheets and adjust the pillow under her cheek. It’s quite an image, big, fierce-looking Adam with his spiky black-and-blue hair and giant rings gently tucking her into bed. It would probably surprise people who don’t know Adam very well.

“You’re never what people expect, are you?” Kris asks as they move into the hallway, shutting the door quietly behind.

“I hope not,” Adam says sincerely.

*****

Adam’s got about a billion freckles. It’s easy to forget about them when he’s always wearing make-up and leather jackets and scarves, but they’re there; swirling up the insides of his arms when he wanders around their room in the morning in a t-shirt. Scattered across his hips like stars when he stretches and his shirt rides up. Plain as day all over his face, even on his lips, after he’s washed up and brushed his teeth at night. Kris had a weird dream about them once, where he kept tracing them with his fingers and thin lines of ink appeared in the wake of his fingertips, connecting the freckles into lines and shapes and constellations until Adam looked like an abstract painting. Kris woke up feeling weird and guilty, like he’d done something wrong.

Those freckles are the first thing the make up crew attacks before every performance and video. As soon as Adam sits down, someone’s got out a sponge and a little round cake of peachy-beige gunk that gets smoothed onto Adam’s face until the freckles are gone. It always makes Kris a little sad, for some reason.

Kris’ makeup routine isn’t nearly as extensive. A little goop in the hair, a little gunk on the face, he’s ready. His own makeup person isn’t even here yet, and Adam’s already been in his chair for twenty minutes.

“It never ceases to amaze me how high maintenance you are,” Kris says. He leans on the arm of his usual makeup chair and looks at Adam’s reflection. Mirror-Adam looks over without moving his head at all (he’s the best at that – the first time Kris was having his makeup done, he turned his head to answer a question and ended up with a stripe of beige bisecting his face where the brush had skidded across).

“Beauty like this takes time,” Adam says very seriously.

“Dude, don’t you ever want to look like a man?” Gokey asks, wandering up behind them. Kris stiffens. He and Adam’s makeup girl share a look between them. The last thing they all need is yet another dissertation from Danny Gokey on gender roles. Between Gokey and Sarver, Kris has heard enough of those to last him a lifetime and they still have to go on tour with them this summer.

“Look-” Kris starts, but Adam interrupts, talking over him.

“Only for special occasions,” Adam says. “That’s when I wear the mink eyelashes. Tres macho.” Adam flutters his eyes at Danny. Danny laughs, but it’s a weird laugh, more scornful than amused.

“I’m just saying,” he says. “Most guys don’t want to look like women.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not most guys,” Adam reasons. Danny doesn’t have much to say to that. He holds his hands up in mock surrender and backs away from the chairs. Kris sees him in the mirror, chatting and laughing with the PA attaching his mic pack. His very existence suddenly seems offensive.

“How do you put up with that crap all the time?” Kris asks. “I’d have punched him in the throat by now.”

“If I punched everyone who gave me a hard time, I’d be serving a life sentence for assault,” Adam says. The smile on his face is so resigned it’s making Kris nuts. Danny is back there, mincing around, asking if his mic pack makes him look fat, and Kris wants to beat him to a bloody pulp. He pushes away from the chair, intending to do just that, consequences be damned, but Adam stops him.

“Don’t,” Adam says in a low voice. He catches Kris’ wrist with his hand, tugs him back towards his seat. “It’s not worth the effort. Believe me, I’ve heard worse.”

“That doesn’t exactly make it seem better,” Kris says through clenched teeth.

“There are some fights you can’t win.” Adam’s hand is still circled around Kris’ wrist. He’s not holding tightly at all, Kris could break free if he wanted to. It might as well be a handcuff, though.

“You ready for me, Kris?” His makeup artist walks over and pats the chair kitty-corner to Adam’s. It wars with every instinct he has, but he sits down.

He can see Adam having his make-up done behind him, reflected in the mirror. He watches as Adam’s freckles disappear.

*****

“They’re going to give me crap tonight, I know they are.” It’s those dead couple of hours after the morning’s preparation but before they head to dress rehearsal. Danny is off somewhere, meditating or going on a nature walk, who knows. Allison’s power napping. It’s business as usual, which means it’s Kris’ allotted time to pace. “They’re going to tell me I’m not rock, they’re going to say I’m boring, they’re going to hassle me about something. If I get compared to you one more time,” he fumes, “I’m going to… to…”

“Write a sternly worded letter?” Adam suggests. He’s the picture of calm as he sits cross-legged on the floor in front of his bed and paints his nails with his newest favorite color, some dark metallic blue stuff with a French name. Kris is always a jittery, spazzy ball of nerves right before dress rehearsal. Once he gets out on the stage, once his guitar is in his hands, then he can calm down, but before? Forget it. Adam’s like a Zen rock garden the whole time. Kris doesn’t know how he does it.

“Very sternly worded,” Kris agrees. He drops down onto the floor near Adam, leaning his back against the closet door. “Next thing you know, they’re going to be asking me to look like you. And I could never look like you.”

“Sure you could,” Adam says automatically, then reconsiders at Kris’ rolled eyes. “Okay, maybe not exactly like me. But still. Here.” Adam reaches out and snags Kris’ hand.

“What are you doing?”

“Making you fierce.”

“I’m about as fierce as a teddy bear,” Kris says, but he lets Adam grip his thumb between two fingers. Adam expertly swipes the brush down Kris’ thumbnail. He does it with the same practiced ease that Katy always does. The one time Kris tried to paint his own nails was for a Halloween costume and it took him half an hour and they still looked like crap.

“This definitely makes you a tiny bit fierce,” Adam decides as he glides the color on.

Kris laughs. “I think they have a different word for it back home.”

“You’re in LA now, honey,” Adam drawls. “You need a whole new vocab. There. Now you’ve got a little Adam on you,” Adam says. Kris starts to pull his hand away, but Adam keeps his hold. “It needs another coat.”

“Hey, Adam?”

“Yeah?” Adam doesn’t look up. He blows gently on Kris’ thumb to dry the polish. His breath gusts across the back of Kris’ hand, making the hair on his arms stand on end.

“Remember you said I could ask if I had any questions?” Adam looks up at that, the brush hovering above Kris’ thumbnail.

“Yeah,” he says after a moment’s hesitation. Kris wiggles his thumb a little bit. He waits for Adam to look back down, to go on painting the nail before he continues. He doesn’t want Adam to be looking at him when he asks, for some reason.

“Is it different kissing a guy? I mean, if you’ve kissed girls. Have you kissed girls?”

Adam smiles at Kris’ hand. Kris can just barely see the edges of his mouth curling up. “I’ve kissed girls,” he says.

“So is it different?”

“Depends on the girl.” Adam flashes a wicked grin up at Kris.

“Oh.”

“I can show you if you really want to know,” Adam teases. Without his consent, Kris’ eyes drop immediately to Adam’s mouth. That freckle is there, the one right on Adam’s lower lip, and Kris can’t stop from wondering if he’d be able to feel it with his tongue. He can feel the blush starting, the way it always does, at the tops of his ears. Knowing he’s blushing only makes him blush harder. Adam gives him a look that manages to be knowing, shrewd and surprised all at once. Something tightens in Kris’ gut like a fist and he feels too open, too exposed. He tugs his hand out of Adam’s grip.

“You smudged it,” Adam says quietly. His hands are tucked carefully at his sides. He looks apprehensive again, the same Adam that brooded all afternoon when those pictures first leaked. “Do you want me to fix it?”

“It’s okay,” Kris says. “I think I have enough Adam on me for now.” Adam tries for a grin. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“That’s what they all say at first,” he quips. Kris wants to say something, to make it better. But anything he could say would just make everything else worse.

*****

Allison squashes herself into the back with them for the ride home from the show, instead of her usual spot in the middle bench. She’s got both her arms wrapped around Kris’ elbow, her chin resting on his shoulder, and she doesn’t seem inclined to let go. Kris can’t say he minds. It kills him that she’s six years younger than he is but she’s still mothering him. He’ll miss it if either one of them has to go home tomorrow.

The driver is off somewhere, doing something undetermined, so they’re sitting in the parking lot for a while, the car getting a little hot and stuffy. Danny opens a window and sticks his face out like a golden retriever. A golden retriever wearing rimless glasses. Kris would laugh if he weren’t still feeling so murderous towards Danny after that duet. Allison looks at him and snorts.

“Sushi,” she mutters. It’s become their code for whenever they want to get away from Danny. Which is often, lately. He and Adam have been butting heads more and more. Danny never quite comes straight out and says something horrible or ignorant, but he always dances around it, until everyone’s more on edge about what he might say than about what he does say.

Adam is holding himself carefully next to Kris. With Allison back there, there’s no room to spread out, so Adam’s pressed up against Kris’ side, his arm on the seat back behind him. But Adam’s usual careless grace is gone, replaced by tentativeness. Kris knows it’s because of his reaction earlier. That Adam probably thinks Kris is freaked out and repulsed. “It’s not you,” Kris wants to say. But then what does he say, it’s me? I felt something I wasn’t ready to feel? I don’t even know what I want anymore? He’s not prepared to acknowledge any of those things, so he keeps quiet, even though the guilt is killing him.

“Look at your rockstar thumb,” Allison says, tapping her fingertip against the painted nail. “I didn’t notice that before.”

“Adam thought I needed a little something fierce,” Kris tells her with a grin.

“I’m going for eyeliner next,” Adam says. They all laugh, even Danny in the front seat.

“I bet it’s lucky,” Allison whispers in Kris’ ear.

“Maybe,” he whispers back. He has no idea how he’s going to make it through tomorrow. He’s not ready to leave.

*****

The polish feels slick and smooth when he rubs it with his other thumb. He should have been asleep hours ago, but he can’t calm his mind down, he’s thinking too many things too fast. So instead he’s lying here in a dark room, turning over every fifteen seconds and testing the surface of the polish with his fingertips.

He flicks on the light. The alarm clock reads 2:37. Crap, he is going to be exhausted tomorrow. He examines his thumb in the light. He’s surprised to find that he kind of likes the way it looks. Maybe not on all ten fingers, but just one thumb is cool. He laughs and shakes his head a little.

“I’ve only been here a couple of months and I’m going Hollywood already,” he says to himself. A year ago that would have seemed crazy. Now it doesn’t seem so bad.

*****

Allison is the hardest one yet. It’s never really easy when someone leaves. It’s such a weird experience that they’re all sharing that they can’t help feeling like family. But Allison is something more than that and the tension in the air proves it. Adam has a look on his face like he’s losing his best friend. Kris feels a pang of jealousy that he shoves aside. Allison is just a kid. She needs someone like Adam to look out for her more than Kris does. It only makes sense. Nothing to be jealous about.

“You guys better get to the finale for me,” she warns them while she’s packing her bags. Her room looks like a hurricane hit it; clothes and shoes are everywhere, jewelry is heaped on every available surface. Her mother is in the walk-in closet, clucking over the piles of wrinkled clothes. “I mean it, if I see Danny in the finals instead of one of you, I’m gonna be pissed.”

“We’ll see what we can do,” Kris says. The door frame is hard against his shoulder. Adam is cross-legged on the floor, folding Allison’s most favorite shirts carefully and placing them in the open suitcase at his side. Mrs. Iraheta mutters something from the depths of the closet. Kris remembers just enough Spanish from high school to know that she’s not America’s biggest fan right now.

The goodbyes are quick. Allison prefers them that way. Adam would stand in the driveway, hugging someone for days if he had his way, but Allison wants it short and sweet. She waves her mother into the waiting car before turning to the two of them.

“Remember, finale,” she warns in a fierce tone. It’s more of a threat than a request. She turns to Kris, wraps her arms around his ribcage tightly, squeezing until Kris is having a little trouble drawing in a deep breath. Then just as quickly, she lets go, her hair tickling his nose as she steps away and launches herself at Adam. Kris hears Adam’s low voice, but he can’t tell what he’s saying. It makes Allison laugh, though, whatever it is, and when she pulls away she’s grinning even though her eyes are wet.

“Bye, baby girl,” Adam says.

“See you ‘round, old man,” she answers. “Take care of each other, okay?” She trots to the car and slides quickly into the backseat. Adam’s not even trying not to cry. They stand and watch the car wind down the driveway and turn into the street. Kris would have moved to go back inside, but Adam stays where he is, watching the taillights for as long as they’re visible and then staring down the street at nothing, so Kris stays too until Adam is finally ready to go inside.

*****

“What’s with the long face?” Danny asks the next day after they’ve gotten back from the typical morning stuff – picking songs, mapping out the plan for the week, getting their marching orders for the home visits. He punches Adam playfully on the shoulder, dancing around him like a boxer. Kris can see Adam’s brows lower another quarter inch from their already low mast, but otherwise he doesn’t react. “We’re in the final three, you should be celebrating!” Danny throws a few more shadow punches before Kris catches his arm and pulls him away.

“Hey, lay off him,” Kris says under his breath. Danny shrugs and wanders out of the room, probably to find a phonebook in case there’s someone in America he hasn’t called and told about being in the final three yet. Adam’s expression doesn’t change.

“You doing okay?” Kris asks him.

“I’m fine,” Adam answers in a tone that indicates the exact opposite.

“Nice, I almost believed you,” Kris says. Adam makes a face. “I miss her too, man.”

“It’s just so quiet without her.”

“I know.” They can hear Danny on the phone again, talking to his third cousin twice-removed, or whoever the heck it is he’s called this time.

“Can you believe it’s a ringtone?” he’s laughing. “I’m a celebrity!” Adam’s scowl deepens.

“Sushi?” Kris asks.

“Sushi,” Adam agrees rather forcefully.

*****

“So when do you leave?” Adam asks. He’s pushing his food around his plate like a fussy toddler. Kris has to fight the urge to tell him to stop playing with his food and eat.

“Tonight.” The idea of going back home to Arkansas seems strange. He’s been missing it for months and now he almost doesn’t want to go.

“Really?” Adam looks at him in surprise. “I’m not leaving until tomorrow. I guess the time change is a problem.”

“Yeah, I’d have to leave crazy early and the day would still be half done by the time I got there.”

“That’s why everyone should live in California.” Kris has to laugh at Adam’s logic. He likes California well enough, but there are some things it doesn’t have. Like good barbeque. Kris would kill for some good barbeque.

“You know something?” Kris says, poking at his caterpillar roll with a chopstick.

“Hm?”

“I’ve never liked sushi.” Adam’s head jerks back a bit in surprise, his eyebrows beetling in confusion.

"What?"

"I actually kind of hate sushi." Kris laughs. It’s sort of a relief to say it. It wasn’t anything important, just some stupid raw fish, and it wasn’t that big of a deal. But still. It’s nice to be honest about it.

"Why didn't you say something?" Adam asks. Kris shrugs, looks down at his plate for a minute.

"Because I didn't want to be stuck at the house with Gokey while you guys went off and had fun without me," he says after a while.

"Oh, Kristopher." Adam’s voice manages to convey amusement, affection, exasperation, a hundred emotions. Kris makes a face at him.

"Shut up." He tosses a chopstick at Adam when Adam laughs.

"Well at least now I can stop worrying that you have a tapeworm," Adam says.

“You thought I had a tapeworm?” Kris asks in disbelief.

“You’ve been eating two dinners almost every night!” Adam says. “And you still weigh less than one of my legs! It’s not the most irrational conclusion.”

“Well, now you know,” Kris says.

“Knowing is half the battle,” Adam agrees. But his face grows thoughtful, his eyes troubled. He’s looking at Kris like he’s afraid Kris might break. Kris clears his throat uncomfortably and signals for the check. They split it in silence. It isn’t until they’re out on the curb, waiting for the car to come around, that Adam speaks again.

“We would have gone somewhere else, you know,” Adam says quietly. “If you’d told us. The company was more important than the food.” He touches his knuckles lightly to Kris’ shoulder.

Kris opens his mouth to answer, but he’s embarrassed to realize there’s a lump in his throat that words won’t get past. So he closes his mouth again and nods. Adam seems to understand. He drops his hand, but he’s still standing close enough that Kris can feel the warmth radiating off him through his sleeve. Kris shivers and pulls his jacket more tightly around his body, even though it’s not particularly cold. It’ll be good to get back home to Arkansas, really it will. He’s almost got himself convinced.

Continued in Part II



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