linzeestyle | [fic][AI8] And Play A Favorite Song [Kris/Adam] [3/3]

continued from part two

Adam doesn't think about why he's flying into Nashville. He books the flight ten hours before take-off, puts his calls and obligations on hold for the weekend. He's had Kris's tour schedule on his kitchen table since it started, and Tennessee is the stop directly after Little Rock; he spends fifteen hours terrified of the prospect, five minutes after that throwing his hands up and making the itinerary. His assistant rides him about it the entire way to the terminal, until he finally silences his PDA, emails her, I'm taking personal time, hold everything please, and turns the damn machine off, for serious.

Backstage, the Music City Theater is barely-collected chaos and Adam takes the chance just to soak it all in: he hasn't been here in years, at the edge of the storm rather than its center. He gets his pass from a roadie who catches the tour manager for him and stands in the back, behind one of the amplifiers. He can watch Kris play here, but Kris can't see him, and he's struck again by how beautiful he is. There's a glow to him, on stage, and Adam thinks, he was made for this, doesn't know how it took everyone so long to see it.

"This song isn't about losing what's important to you. I guess it kind of sounds like that, but it's more about changing. I wrote it for somebody. They're not here, but it's for them. Anybody that's made you get yourself more than you did before you knew them. That's, this is 'Years From Now.'"

Adam's eyes are maybe a little wet when Kris steps off the stage; it's the way he catches him, entire body jerking in surprise like a literal double-take, and Adam's torn between laughing and actually bursting into tears, settles for raising his eyebrows and opening his arms, taking a step forward and letting Kris meet him in the middle.

"Holy crap, Adam." Kris catches him so tightly it nearly knocks the wind out of him, makes him stagger backwards, taking Kris with him. "You dick, you didn't tell me you were gonna be here."

"It was a last-minute thing," Adam says, burying his face in Kris's shoulder and just breathing in. He smells like tour grit and exhaustion and so much like home it's scary. "I thought about hitting Little Rock," he mumbles into fabric, "but I chickened out. I can't believe you out there. How are you real?"

"M'not, I'm a robot." Kris laughs and Adam grins along with him, pulling back enough to look at his face. "What made you come out here?"

Adam brings a hand up to cup Kris's cheek. "You," he says, simply, because it's the biggest truth he can think of. "Can we--can I take you somewhere?"

Kris snorts, face flushing a little under Adam's palm. "Yeah, I just gotta...fan thing, you know, I don't like completely missing it." He looks apologetic, and Adam lets him go, slaps his hip fondly.

He knows at least a portion of the barricade crowd sees him when they step outside -- there's a flurry of activity and some muted, hushed whispering, but Adam keeps his glasses on and his beanie pulled low and stays pressed in the shadow against the side of the arena, back hot against cool concrete. He loves watching Kris like this, ducking his head with laughter at something someone says, crouching down to sign the shirt of a boy who can't be more than eight. He takes his time at the gates and when he comes back around Adam catches him by the waist -- what's left of the crowd, if they're looking, can see them, but it feels safe here, like they're testing the water before it slides over their heads.

"So when does your bus leave?"

"Not 'til tomorrow." Kris looks at him sideways, mouth turning up at the corners. "You got plans?"

The fluorescent lighting of the underground loading area signals they're out of sight of anyone outside the venue; Adam takes the opportunity to cup Kris's face and kiss him. When they pull apart it takes a moment before Kris's eyes flutter back open again, and Adam smiles and plays with the fine hairs at his nape, runs his thumb over the delicate line of his tendons.

"I do. Come back to my hotel room with me?"

"Yeah. God, yeah."

*

The hotel room has turned back Egyptian cotton and wine in a bucket of ice resting on a marble counter. It's fancier than anything Adam ever got on tour, and it's an admission, in his own right, that this is a Big Deal. It's also completely fucking gaudy compared to how perfect Kris is, in front of him.

"I feel like I shoulda dressed up for this," says Kris with a warped smile, taking in the room.

"Fuck the room." Adam closes the distance between them easily, pulls Kris into another kiss that's searing-hot and convincing. "I miss you so much," he says in between breaths, "I was so stupid."

"You weren't--mmm." Kris pulls away with clear reluctance, hand coming up to brush Adam's face. "You weren't stupid. It was a real thing. And I thought about it, after you said it." He looks down at his feet, briefly, obviously trying to get his breathing under control, and when he comes back up again his expression is intense. "I told my parents."

Adam freezes. "What?"

"I keep telling you, I'm serious about this. You. Doing this."

Adam shakes his head. "You didn't have to, that isn't something you should have done for me--"

"--would you let me finish talking?" He sounds exasperated, but still affectionate, and Adam shuts his mouth. "I did it for me. I don't want to hide this. I wanted them to hear it from me before they saw me show up as your date somewhere, or out together or something." He shrugs, mouth forming into a little smile that's as much worn out as hopeful. Probably not the easiest thing Kris has done, Adam imagines, and it's so Kris, to go about it this way, that Adam can't help but touch him, reaches out and lets his thumb trace over the delicate line of his cheek bone.

"I can't believe you, sometimes," says Adam, feeling a little overwhelmed.

Kris chuckles. "It was the scariest thing I've ever done. I'm really glad I did it, though. I get what it means to you, and I've always... really looked up to that. How honest you are. I didn't want to be the guy that made you feel like somebody's secret." He huffs, reaches up and grabs Adam's hand where it's resting against his cheek. "I'm too lucky for that."

Adam looks down at their hands, eyes prickling. "Thank you." It doesn't even begin to cover it, and it's not entirely all of what Adam wants to say, but he's not really feeling words right now, and instead he pulls Kris in and kisses him, softly, catches his upper lip and hums when Kris's mouth closes over his bottom one. It's gentle, but it doesn't stay that way -- not when Kris bites down enough to make Adam groan, not when it's so easy to tilt Kris's head a little, get the angle right to deepen the kiss and take over. Adam sidesteps over to the bed and topples them both down onto it, mattress protesting the sudden weight with a disused squeak that makes Adam giggle.

It's Kris that pulls away first, getting his breath long enough to groan. "Fucking finally."

"Kristopher!" Adam catches the hem of Kris's shirt. "Language."

"Fuck. It's sort of freeing, actually. Fuck fuck fuck."

They're both laughing now, and it makes getting Kris out of his clothes a little awkward -- there's some fumbling, and Adam manages to get his own shirt tangled up in his necklaces before he gives up and tosses the whole chain-mail-cloth mess over onto the floor. "God, I feel like it's my first time," Adam grins as he climbs back up Kris's body, pushing him down until he's lying against the pillows and then dropping to kiss his chest, lick down to his stomach until Kris is squirming beneath him. "Shhh, baby."

The button on Kris's jeans slides free easy, and Adam gets the appeal of wearing them a good size too big because they come off without any trouble, aided by Kris's ticklish kick when Adam kisses his kneecap, runs light fingertips up the inside of his thigh. He doesn't touch his cock though, slides up the bed to kiss Kris's shoulder, and Kris's eyes flutter closed when Adam's denim-clad leg rubs against his dick. "Oh."

Adam licks his neck. "I haven't even gotten started with you."

"You haven't even gotten all your clothes off," says Kris, hand dragging down to tug at Adam's pants, "so maybe you're not the one who should be driving here." He rolls them both until Adam's on his back, Kris braced above him, and Adam grins so wide the corners of his mouth hurt as he arches his hips, skims out of the rest of his clothes fast so he can get his hands on Kris' hips.

"Hmmm." Adam slides his hands around to cup Kris's ass. "I want to fuck you. Can I?"

"God." Kris rocks back into his palms, cock hard and red against his stomach. "Yeah."

Getting the lube out of the dresser is kind of a trick -- Adam bends himself sideways, snags a condom while he's at it, and when he straightens again Kris is staring at him, breathing hard like he's either seriously turned on or ready to freak out. Judging from his erection, Adam's guessing the former, but he still brings his hand back up to stroke Kris's hair, smiles gently and whispers hey until Kris says it back. "Condom," Adam says, stating the obvious, and Kris scrabbles backwards enough so that Adam can tear it open, roll it down onto his cock with well-practiced ease. He's intensely aware of Kris watching him, though, and when Kris scoots back up again it's to stare at the lube Adam's holding, apparently fascinated by the little clear bottle.

"Can I?" Kris's blush is bright, and Adam is amused to see just how far down his chest it spreads. Cute. "I mean, I've tried doing it before, a couple times."

"You're full of surprises," Adam breathes, but he hands the lube over, watching Kris uncap it and slick his own fingers. "More's better. How far have you gotten?"

Kris is still red, but he holds Adam's gaze when he tells him, "not really that many," adds "two maybe," like it's a challenge.

Adam laughs, happily, settles back against the pillows and lets Kris recap the bottle. "I'm a little bigger than that," he says, and Kris raises his eyebrows and huffs in amusement, gaze falling down to Adam's hard cock. "Okay. Start slowly."

He has to admit: as much as he loves the participation part, there's something really wonderfully decadent about just leaning against the headboard, watching Kris finger himself. It's an incredible mix of enthusiasm and nerves: he adds one finger, then two, brows creasing in concentration like he's looking for something he's not sure how to get. "Good boy," Adam says, softly, petting the skin above his hipbone. "Easy, easy. Try moving a little, tilt your hips." Kris shifts, does as he's told, and the way his breath hitches tells Adam he's got it. "God. You're amazing, you know that?" Kris stares down at him, eyes glazed and mouth slack, and Adam's grip tightens against the urge to take over. "Can you do another?"

Kris nods, looks a little desperate, and Adam can feel him tense up when the third finger slips in, feel the way his body shivers like it's not sure, about this. "Take it slow," he urges, soothing his palm up and down Kris' side. "It took me so long, my first time. I was so scared."

"M'not scared." He sounds determined, and Adam can't help but let his gaze fall, watch the line of thigh and curve of hip and the way he sinks down onto his own hand, lube dripping between them onto Adam's thighs. Kris is still half-hard, and Adam can't help but smile at that -- he's not scared, Adam believes that completely, but it's still a little scary, still big and nebulous and game-changing.

"I know," he says, finally, and he curls his body enough to pull Kris in to kiss him. "I know you're not, but it's still kind of important, you know?"

Kris chuckles, sounding strained. Adam can tell when his fingers slide free, the crease between his eyebrows that smooths as he scoots closer. "I appreciate you thinking about my gay virginity."

"Oh, fuck you," Adam laughs, feeling his own nerves dissipate. Leans forward again to kiss Kris, soft and sweet, reach up to pet the back of his hair. "Okay," he says when they separate. "Okay." The lube is still on the bedspread beside them and Adam grabs it again, uncaps it and pours enough onto his hands that he's pretty sure they're going to have to pay for the sheets. Slicks his fingers liberally and slides his hand around to press inside Kris gently.

Kris arches his back, pushing into it. "M'ready, Adam--come on."

The third finger slides in easy alongside the first two. Adam's hands are bigger than Kris's; he's tight, but not unbearably, and Adam curls his fingers, opening him further. It makes Kris gasp and squirm in his lap -- Adam's name sounds like begging, now.

"You say when." Adam pulls his hand away, leaning back again. It's the best-worst part of this, and the first time with a new partner is always like new territory, figuring out limits and what the body does or doesn't, treading all new ground, part of the fun of it, if you're going for it. Adam's torn between wanting to savor this and wanting it over, already: he's imagining the fifth time, the five-hundredth, what it will be like when it's all just second skin, familiar and easy and tattooed on their bodies. It's not the first time he's looked at someone and thought forever, but it's the first time that 'forever' meant something greater than just a frozen, crystalline present.

Kris pushes down onto him shaky, painfully slow, taking shallow panting breaths that sound loud in the suddenly sharp-quiet room. Adam moves to grip his thigh but Kris slaps his hand away, and Adam hums and watches him, squeezes his fingers into the comforter, instead.

"Holy," gasps Kris, when he's all the way down, swallowing hard and bringing shaky hands up to rest on Adam's shoulders. "Wow." He tilts his hips, experimentally, sending a shock of pleasure along all of Adam's nerve-endings. Staying still is very possibly the most difficult thing Adam has done, ever, and he grabs the back of Kris' neck, pulls him in for a kiss that's all the nowfuckyes he feels between them.

"Still okay?" Adam mouths it into Kris's cheek, wet and hot between kisses, and Kris nods, rolling his hips tentatively. It wrings a little noise out of both of them, and Kris does it again, more confident.

"Way okay." He lets Adam lift him up, set a steady, soft pace. It won't get Adam off, but they've got all night for that part. "Oh God."

"Tell me if it's good for you," murmurs Adam, pushing his hips up enough to make Kris's eyes widen. "How does it feel?"

Kris shakes his head, rocking against Adam in something like a rhythm. "Don't you dare stop."

Adam laughs, stroking Kris's back. "You look so hot like this." He wraps a loose fist around Kris's cock and squeezes, watches his face to see if he can get him hard again: it probably still feels more foreign than good yet, but from the way Kris's eyes are glazing Adam can tell he's getting there, and it's incredible, watching him bite his lip shiny and jerk up into Adam's grip, push himself back onto Adam's cock like he can't decide what feeling he wants more of. "God, I love you so much," Adam whispers, and it feels good, being able to say it -- even more when Kris's eyes flutter shut and he moans, like it's the words getting him closer as much as anything Adam has done to him.

It's jerky, but Adam can tell Kris is nodding, and his own breath catches when he pushes out, "me too--love you," in between hitched breaths. Suddenly, gentle really isn't enough for Adam anymore, and he slides his hands down to grip Kris's hips, digging in with enough pressure that he's sure he'll leave bruises.

"I need--" Kris just nods, says yeah, tense and tight, and then Adam's lifting him up and off of him, turning them both until Kris is back against the mattress. "It's easier--do you want it on your stomach? It feels better."

Kris shakes his head, dragging Adam in against him. "Wanna see you, just do it already."

Adam would be an idiot, to argue with that: he hauls Kris's leg up over his shoulder and guides himself back inside, a long, hot slide that has Kris tipping his head back and moaning, line of his neck perfect for Adam to worry his teeth against.

It's a lot easier to control their movement, like this -- Adam shoves into Kris as fast as he can, the part of him that's worried about too much or hurting Kris pushed down by the little desperate noises Kris is making, the way his hands come up to grip Adam's ass as he thrusts into him harder. His thighs tremble and Adam grins and angles higher, thinks gotcha when Kris moans, gives a jerking kick against Adam's back. Every other thrust or so makes Kris arch against the bedsheets -- he's squirming, enthusiastic, and Adam catches his bottom lip and kisses him, messy, gets a hand down between them to wrap back around his cock.

"I want you to come--can you do that for me?" Kris hisses and bucks and Adam scrapes a blunt nail along the underside, twists his fist until Kris's head is thrashing against the pillow. "I want to feel it, make me feel it. Come on honey."

And Adam can feel it, when Kris's orgasm hits him: Kris's eyes go shock-wide and his whole body clenches down, so tight around Adam he can barely drag his cock out, push back in and ride Kris through it. He keeps moving his fist, though, palm sliding up and down the shaft until Kris is oversensitive, making little pained sounds that Adam gets to kiss away. Hazy like this, Kris is cuddly and pliant; Adam can push his other leg up and fold him practically in half, hips moving so hard against Kris's that they'll both be sore tomorrow. His own orgasm starts in his spine and ends so blinding-hot he can feel it in his toes: he gasps and stills his hips and all but collapses on top of Kris, breathing in Kris's soap-sweat-clean scent and unable to form any coherent thought but for one.

"Oh, holy shit," he mumbles, feeling lazy and wrung-out and kind of stupidly overwhelmed.

Kris nods, eyes barely open. "Basically."

"You still with me?" Adam makes himself get up, roll off of Kris and strip off the condom, tosses it into the wastebasket with a wince. When he climbs back onto the bed Kris has already moved over to the dry side of it, propped up on his elbow. Adam curls up beside him, pressing a kiss into his neck. "Are you okay with this?"

Kris snorts. "I'm probably not going to be sitting down tomorrow but jeez, yes, stop that." He reaches up, pets sloppily at Adam's hair. "I hope you've never really met a guy who fell outta love that easy."

Love -- Adam mouths the word to himself soundlessly, shaking his head against a sudden wave of emotion. "I really am in love with you." It's easier to say it when he doesn't have to look at Kris, but it feels dishonest, too: Adam pulls back to meet his gaze, keeps going through the nervousness. "I think I have been for a while... even before, when you were still--" He hates saying this, feels badly for how true it is. Crushes are one thing, and Adam's never, ever had guilt over the things that get him off. But this feels more taboo, somehow, because it gives him away. People don't fall in love unless they're paying attention, and Kris wasn't his to focus on that clearly. "I don't think I would have done anything. But I was. Am."

When Kris leans in to kiss him this time it feels warmer, slower, a bit possessive. He tilts his head to guide the kiss and Adam lets him, feels Kris' palm skate along his hip and sighs into it, eyes sliding closed. Pulling apart is like a change in barometric pressure.

"Mama knew," Kris says, after a while, face pressed into Adam's chest. "She says it was the music, that she can... can always see me, with it." Adam squeezes him tighter, murmurs encouragement. "Dad was--that was hard." He swallows. "But they love me. And you too."

"They weren't..." Adam isn't sure how to put it into words. There was so much fear, when he was younger, when he first realized, knew for certain.

"Mama cried. Dad, a little too, I think. But they weren't like that," says Kris, shaking his head. "I think they maybe thought I was stuck, after Katy--like I wasn't moving anymore." He pauses. "I told her. I didn't want her to think anything had happened when I was with her. It seemed wrong to not do that." Smiles ruefully. "She says I'd be a total dick if I let you go too."

Adam can't help himself, rubs his thumb over Kris' cheek and breathes in heavy, trying to process. "I think you should definitely listen to her. But I'm being selfish."

Kris lays back down against Adam's sternum. "Yeah. Me too."

*

Kris's tour ends in New York: and of course it would, Adam supposes, a sort of symmetry that takes him as far from Hollywood as he can possibly be. It's in the middle of the week, and it's tight on Adam's newly reemerged recording schedule, but he still meets Kris in time to catch the show in New Jersey, climbs onto the bus with him for the overnight drive to the Beacon.

"There is really not enough room for this," laughs Adam, well after midnight, curling himself as close to the wall as he can and still feeling a bit like a canned sardine as he pulls Kris into the bunk beside him. "I think I imagined this being more romantic."

"It's kind of charming." Kris ends up sprawled half over Adam in his boxers and thin t-shirt, thigh slung over one of Adam's legs and warm hand winding up under his shirt, stroking lightly at the skin underneath. Adam can maybe see the appeal of this, though he'd still do a lot of potentially unsavory things for a full-sized bed. "Sorta like... you know you're not getting any, so you're doing this because you really do want to be close to the person you're with."

"Speak for yourself, I have definitely 'gotten any' on a bus before." It's different when the bus belongs to you and you alone though, and Adam definitely has no plans on reenacting that, tonight. Kris really does travel with his entire back-up band, and if there's one thing Adam learned from years in theater, it's that you should always respect the touring musicians. Respect, and not get lucky while they're probably less than three feet away. "This is nice though," he amends happily, curling Kris in closer. "I feel spoiled."

"Your version of spoiled is pretty easy to please." Kris's thumb rubs gentle lines up and down Adam's sternum, and Adam hums. This doesn't feel easy, but if Kris is going to think it, so much the better. "I'll keep that in mind, when this tour's all over."

It's not that far away, anymore. Twenty-four hours and Kris is a free man again; Adam purses his lips, blows a puff of air out between them. "So what happens, after this?"

"Huh?" Kris glances up, and his eyes go belatedly wide. "Oh. Man, I don't even know. I haven't--even thought about it, is that weird? I don't even technically have a house right now, so I'm kinda..." He shakes his head, pressing his nose to Adam's chest. "I'm thinking LA for good, actually."

"Really?" For some reason, even through all of this, that was the last thing Adam expected. All of his thoughts of where they go after this, every vision of them together in days, weeks, months, has worked in the possibility of a long-distance type of thing -- because of course Kris would go back home, or New York, or maybe Chicago. Adam could see him in a thousand places, and he's never really imagined that one of them might be his home, too. "For real?"

Kris snorts. "Thanks for the enthusiasm."

"No!" Adam tugs on his arms, pulls him all the way up so that he's lying completely on top of him, now. "That's amazing, I would--I would die, seriously. I just didn't think you'd ever like it there, that it was kind of weird Hollywood and everything."

"It is pretty weird," agrees Kris, still smiling. "But turns out I kind of like that. And it's got this one pretty big thing going for it, too." He turns his face into Adam's neck, and his voice rumbles against his throat, pleasantly. "You're the closest thing to home I've got. I know we're really not at the buying dogs, picking out table patterns phase yet, but I'd maybe like to be, at some point."

Adam swallows against a sudden wave of emotion, squeezes Kris tighter. "I'd like that," he says quietly. "At some point."

There's a pause, and Kris speaks again, clearing his throat like he's feeling the same tightness there that Adam is, now. "I figure I can get a house or something, with a studio in it sort of like yours. You know I've never actually lived by myself." He glances up. "It might be a disaster. I'm pretty excited."

"I'll teach you to cook." Adam can't cook to save his life. "Or maybe my mom will teach you to cook."

Kris laughs. "My mom keeps sending me recipes. And like, doubling them. I think she thinks you're losing weight too."

"Your mom is my trainer's nightmare."

"Whatever. I hate your trainer." Kris slides his other hand under Adam's shirt to join the first. "You're the prettiest person I've ever met."

"Flatterer. But I love you."

"Mmm." Kris presses a kiss to Adam's chest, palms flattening warm on his skin. "Me too," he says easily, and Adam smiles and lets himself sleep.

*

The buses roll into Beacon around one-thirty, New York time: there are already fans waiting outside, wearing plaid and holding signs that say they're here for Kris, definitely. It's fantastically crazy déjà vu and Adam peeks out the window and wonders aloud if somebody's going to ask Kris to sing "No Boundaries." Kris swats him and finishes buttoning up his over-shirt. "Shut up, dick." Adam laughs.

It's the kind of thing Adam's first response is to stay out of the way for: those Idol pictures did show up on somebody's Facebook, somewhere, and more from Nashville, of Adam watching from the brick side of the enclosure, and it hasn't gone much past Popeater but it will, eventually. More importantly though, this is Kris's moment -- Adam isn't here to have any part in the spotlight, doesn't want anything about his being here, or why, to detract from the fact Kris deserves all of the praise he's getting. It's what keeps him curled up on Kris's bunk with a copy of "Midnight's Children," until Kris comes jogging back up the bus steps, slides back into the narrow back walkway and grabs Adam's arm, tugging insistently.

"Come on, it's the last day -- I want you out here with me."

"It's not my show!" Adam sets the book down and climbs out anyway.

"That's kind of the point," says Kris, and Adam thinks, oh, and follows him outside.

Without his sunglasses, or makeup, in soft jeans and a hoodie a size too big to not be lounge-wear, Adam doesn't feel at all like a rock star. It's kind of freeing, actually, and he wiggles his fingers at the small crowd when he comes up behind Kris, slides his arm lazy around Kris's waist and squints at the unnecessary flashes when at least six cameras go off in near-tandem. Kradam, someone squeals, and Adam laughs and lets go of Kris, steals his sharpie when the first, tentative fan asks if she can have Adam's autograph, too. "Sure, hon." He grabs the copy of "Girls in Movies" she's holding and writes i love Kris! xoxo in block letters, signs his name directly under.

"That was so crazy," Adam laughs when a handler finally comes to escort them both away; Kris has to take care of sound check before OneRepublic can start, and Adam makes a point of watching, loves seeing Kris get so into it, even when the audience is no one but himself. "So was that coming out?"

Kris snorts. "There's no room for anybody's closet for you. I just figure what happens happens, right? Better people figure it out this way than turn it into a game."

Adam nods, thoughtfully. "But if people ask?"

Kris reaches out and grabs his hand, squeezing tight. "I fell in love with my best friend. Totally cliché. How about that."

*

The sold-out crowd is all Kris, tonight.

Adam watches from behind the stage: he could have gone out between the barricades, he supposes, but the extra security seemed like such a waste of manpower, and anyway, he's too tall to be out there blocking people's view from the front row. Besides, he likes it better here -- he can see the audience the way Kris can see them, watch the people holding signs and those who know all of the words, even the ones to songs that haven't made singles. Kris plays some first-album favorites, a couple tracks off of Girls in Movies, and the audience screams when he plucks out the first chords to "Years From Now." Stops. Steps up to the mic.

"This song is about love, and I just figured that out recently. It's kind of cool, actually, because I thought it was about losing it. It showed me I guess. But I always say I wrote it for somebody, and I did, and they're here--he's here, wow. So. That's pretty big." Kris chuckles, and the audience screams, and Adam feels like the whole world has imploded, like everything's narrowed to this endless, pin-pricked moment. "That's my big gesture for the night," Kris finishes with a self-conscious laugh, like he has any reason to really worry with the crowd in front of him eating it up. "Sing along though, so I'm not the only person here that knows this."

Kris barely has time to step off of the stage before Adam is on top of him, wrapping him in a hug so complete that Adam's even got his leg slid around him, knee brushing the outside of Kris's thigh. "I can't believe you did that," Adam hisses into Kris's ear, and Kris laughs and pets his back, doesn't even try to get away.

"You asked what I'd say, man."

"I didn't think you'd do it that way!" Adam can't stop smiling though, presses his grin into Kris's neck and rocks them back and forth, swaying. He's got a rhythm to it, a song in his head, and he knows even before the lyrics come back to him that it's Kris's, their song, now.

"Meet and greet's gonna be totally crazy now, huh?"

Adam nods, laugh bubbling up from nowhere to spill over against Kris's skin. "God."

"Hey--I told you." Kris pushes him back, makes him look at him, sharply. "This is serious. Completely."

"I believed that even without you doing that." Adam means it, fiercely so.

"I know. But I wanted to do it. It was..." Kris's grin gets a little crooked. "Kinda fun." He looks so genuinely mischievous Adam can't help but kiss him, beam when Kris reaches up to circle his arms around Adam's neck, pulling him down and controlling the kiss.

"So you're coming with me now, right?" When they come back up for air Adam is breathing hard, flushed, and Kris looks mussed and still somehow impossibly adorable. "I'm gonna have a lot of questions, I'm guessing."

Adam laughs again, nods and ducks his head down to rest again on Kris's shoulder. "Promise me," he says, and Kris says anything immediately, like it's not even questionable. "Promise I get to keep you?"

Kris tightens his grip on Adam, hands sliding across his back to pull him in close.

"Always."

---

Authors Notes, Take One: Thank yous and eternal gratitude to

revid,

tasyfa, and

yeats for hand-holding, dialog-stabbing, and plot-wrangling, respectively. All flaws are my own.

Author's Notes, Take Two: "Years From Now" is a real song, by Rob Thomas. You can download it here. All other lyrics are cribbed from various songs by Rob Thomas. Really, you should probably just go listen to "Cradlesong," because I think my entire writing relationship to Kradam is based upon that album.

Author's Notes, Take Three: Would you believe I didn't know Rob Thomas was touring with OneRepublic until after I'd chosen them as Kris's tour mates? I swear. *hands*