baby, you're a firework. ♥ (forgetheartache ) wrote,
  • Music: All I want for Christmas - My Chemical Romance

Kradam fic; Missed your skin | PG-13 | 4,167

Title: Missed your skin (when you were east)
Part: 1/1
Pairing: Kris Allen/Adam Lambert
Rating: PG-13; for swearing and sexual content.
Word count: 4,167
Summary: Adam quickly threw the pillow to the ground, as he rolled over on his other side, throwing the covers over his face. The thing was, he just didn’t want any source of his comfort.
Disclaimer: This is all fake. Don’t sue.
Notes: An holiday fic. It’s been sitting on my drive for like, ever. This is my first  real fic/post to this community. A little nervous, so be nice with criticism. :3 I didn't use a BETA. Title credit goes to Panic(!) at the Disco

- - - -

“I’m sorry babe, but the label really wants me to do the Early show and it’s a good exposure--”
“Yeah, yeah,” Adam interrupted, and then exhaled a loud sigh on the other line. “I expected this Kris, so it’s alright. Whatever.”

Those two key words -- “whatever”, always began to ring an alarm in Kris’ head. Always. He didn’t know whether Adam knew he tended to sometimes be easy to read from cover to cover.

“You’re upset,” Kris stated, his free left hand, going to rub at the back of his neck. “And I’m sorry. I know I promised it’d be back three days before Christmas…but maybe I can make it the day before?” he offered from the opposite line, palm falling from his neck to the leather arm rest of the couch. Kris was five minutes away from being on-air on Z100; he could hear the fit of giggles from the bombshell, who had the number one single across the country right now, from the other room. He heard the DJ return the chuckle, and shot another question over her upcoming tour.

Kris had been playing away on his iPhone, tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth, until his manager had enthusiastically broke the news, that he was able to land Kris an interview and a performance on the Early show -- which they had been trying to squeeze in for months now. Still, Kris couldn’t really match that big, grin and the enthusiastic energy from his management team -- well, he did. Just sort of, well, faked it -- like, when it came to enjoying his brother Daniel’s peach cobbler at Thanksgiving.

“It doesn’t matter okay?” Adam started, rolling over in his bed, phone almost slipping out of his grasp. There was a rustle of sheets, and then a soft yawn. “Do what you want,” he murmured into the phone. “I’ll spend Christmas alone in California. It’s not like, you know, I put my album on hold or anything just for us to spend the holidays together.” Adam hadn’t meant for that to come out so sharp and rude -- and in-between another series of yawns too. In his defense, the Californian sun hadn’t even rose and his eyelids were heavy with sleep still. He wasn’t even sure if Kris had caught that at all, but apparently he had.

“I know, I know,” Kris returned, eyes moving over to where his manager was mouthing the words “you’re on in two”. He nodded understanding, knowing he had to quickly fix this with Adam. “I’ll make it up to you okay? I’ll make you latkes and halva when I get home --”

“--What the hell are latkes and halva?”

“You know, you’re possibly the worst Jew ever, Adam.”

“Bite me,” Adam shot, fully awake now. “It’s been forever since I celebrated Hanukah, you know that, asshole.”

Kris let out a soft chuckle; it caused Adam to smile into his pillow, in the dark. It made him forget, for just that second that they weren’t separated by a handful of states and an endless night sky; that he was right here in bed with Adam, like any other night.

“I‘ll see you soon -- real soon,” Kris breathed into the phone, unexpectedly, soft and sweet. Adam’s heart gave a loud thump in his ears. It was ridiculous. “I have to go now, okay? I will make it up to you, you‘ll see.”

Just as Adam was about to open his mouth, he found himself talking alone. He let out a frustrated sigh, letting his phone drop with a crash on his nightstand, his head collapsing onto the pillow.

“Whatever,” he murmured to himself, as he grabbed the other pillow, and held it tight against his chest. It was supposed to be a source of comfort, as his eyes fluttered closed and his muscles relaxed all over again.

Except, the pillow had a certain Kristopher Allen’s scent all over it. Still. Even after him being gone on the road for five months now.

Adam quickly threw the pillow to the ground, as he rolled over on his other side, throwing the covers over his face.

The thing was, he just didn’t want any source of his comfort.

- - - -

It was a day later, and a tired Adam was arriving at the apartment, groceries in hand. He had gone shopping for all Kris’ favorites for their Christmas dinner.

“If there is going to be one, anyway,” he muttered to himself, throwing his car keys on the coffee table, flinging off his turquoise beanie and designer sunglasses onto the couch, as he passed by.

It was his supposed disguise, as he ventured down the streets of L.A, but was quickly swarmed by the paparazzi in five seconds flat, flashes going off here and there. Adam was sure he would end up in US Weekly or in OK! Magazine, under articles titled like: “Celebs! They’re just like us!”

Adam snorted at the thought, putting his groceries away in the designated cabinets and shelves and everything else into the refrigerator. The last thing he put away was a tube of cookie dough, which would hopefully give birth to happy gingerbread cookies this year, with crooked icing-made smiles, like they had done last year. Adam had simply eaten the icing -- that was his contribution, he had said. Oh, and decorating one gingerbread man in particular with a (messy looking) plaid shirt.

Kris had just rolled his eyes, and continued on with his handy work. (“Hey, Kris, you would make a good house maker. An pocket house maker,” Adam had mused, hitting the heels of his converse on the cabinet below him, where he sat on the edge of the counter). Adam was licking some excess red coloring icing off the tip from the tube, before he felt the pull of his collar and the sudden press of lips to his.

No matter how many times Adam had kissed Kris and vise versa, he always managed to forget to breathe and sigh like a girl -- or so Kris would say. Now, it was Adam’s turn to roll his eyes.

And that time, it had been no different.

Kris broke away from Adam after a minute or two, with a pleasant smile on his lips. “Sweet,” he had murmured softly, brushing a drop of icing off of Adam’s bottom lip with his thumb, that he had missed.

- - - -

“Oh, my god, Adam Lambert you sulk like an emo kid,” Alisan whined, as she took a drink from her strawberry daiquiri with the little umbrella. Alisan liked the little umbrellas. A lot.

“Hey, I resent that. They have horrible hair,” Adam quipped over the loud booming music. At the moment he was trying to remember, why he had let Ali drag him to a club, of all places.

“Oh, Lambert you looked pathetic, curled up on that couch of yours, watching Lifetime movies and eating Cherry Garcia…. Out of the carton” she had proclaimed. “You and Kris are together. So you have no excuse, mister.”

Oh, yeah, right.

“Adam, I get it babe that Kris is not going to be here for you and all, but c’mon. You’re a strong--”
“--independent woman, I know,” Adam finished for her, as he took a sip of his dirty martini, eyes staring hard at the dance floor, which was filled with a swarm of dancing, sweating bodies.

“…Really?”
“I don’t know. Ferras gave me an earful of that shit, the other day.”

Alisan let out a giggle, as she finished her own drink and started to pull on Adam‘s jacket. (No shiny, spiky things studded to his jacket for once).

“C’mon dance and get drunk with me. You need it, Lambert.”
“Don’t I know it.”

And he did just that. Getting shit faced is all apart of the holiday spirit, anyway.

- - - -

Except, you know, not waking up in your own vomit, the next morning.

Even, after Adam had peeled out of his sticky clothes from last night and showered, he felt his head was about to implode on itself.

He walked into the kitchen, and turned on the coffee machine, like he always did each morning.

As he got his favorite mug out -- which Kris had purchased for him in St. Louis -- and proclaimed proudly: 'THE BIG GAY MUG'; it was pink and kind of shiny. Adam thought it was funny and yes, maybe a little ironic. But the one Kris‘ bought for himself was the icing on the cake (it said: 'I think he‘s gay', with an arrow pointing up towards the drinker) -- of the cabinet, he heard a series of knocks on the front door. Adam passed into the living room, wincing as he took each step, and opened the door only to reveal a delivery man.

“Sign here please,” the slight graying man told an puzzled Adam, as he held out a clipboard, with an attached pen to it. Adam did as he was told, and before he knew it, the man had left and was left holding the package, simply blinking at it. A second later, Adam shook the box against his hear, like a child would do at a birthday.

Nothing. Just silence.

Adam carried it into the kitchen, fresh coffee wafting through the air.

He settled the box on the table, as he served himself a mug of coffee, with two sugars and three creams. He took a tentative sip off his sweetened coffee, before opening the package.

Inside he first found a note on top of the Styrofoam peanuts.

Just thought it’d help you out on being a better Jew.

With love, K


Adam smiled, as he dug through the Styrofoam peanuts and uncovered a very, shiny menorah.

He let out a laugh, as he settled the menorah in front him and finished off his mug of coffee.

- - - -

“So, I’m off the hook right?” Kris called later on that same night, right after his Jimmy Fallon appearance.

“Hm, just a tad,” Adam replied, with a soft laugh, as he propped his legs on the coffee table, the television on mute in the background. “I love it though, Kristopher. Very shiny.”

Kris smiled, as he avoided a swarm of paparazzi just out of the building, and into an awaiting limo. “So, I’ll be home on Thursday.”
“Really?” Adam questioned excitedly, completely ignoring Chace Crawford on the screen now.

“Yeah, really.”
“Good, ‘cause I miss your fucking guts.”

Kris chuckled, as he lowered the phone for a second and instructed the driver to take him back to the hotel.

“You only miss me, for my kick awesome cooking skills and your favorite game of hiding all my plaid shirts,” Kris answered, eyes wide and observing, as the limo passed the New York city skyscrapers and the aluminous lights.

“I do miss playing hide-Kris’-horrid-plaid-shirts game,” Adam answered, cracking a grin. “But, I do I miss your cooking,” he admitted, biting his lip. “Actually, no scratch that. I miss everything -- you,” he exhaled a breath. “Just you.”

The corner of Kris’ lips twitched into a an smile. “Hey, I have to admit something….” he trailed off, licking his lips. They were at a red light; the stupid, fucking butterflies gnawed at the pit of his stomach.

“Hm?” Adam mused on the other line.

He let his forehead lull against the cool of the window, and lowered his voice. “You know that hoodie, that you’ve had for like ages and ages? The one with the long sleeves, that are even way too long for your arms?” he questioned, voice soft. He was tired and lonely and Jesus, missed Adam fucking a lot.

It takes a minute for Adam to remember the hoodie -- which is ironic in itself, since, that hoodie happened to be his favorite -- he had tried bedazzling or whatever the fuck it was called, when he first bought it about three years ago at Target of all places. He managed to put a teal sequin or two on the left sleeve -- the trinket hated him and he hated it. Never did Adam every try his hand at arts and crafts, after that disaster, but he still wore that hoodie at home when lounging around or even when he was on the road in-between rehearsals. Well, up until he lost it. He’s not sure when or where exactly -- he’s determined it was the last tour -- must’ve misplaced it somewhere, or technically, in another state.

“Oh, yeah, I lost that thing. Probably in Kentucky or….Nebraska, Iowa, Texas,” Adam began to list states randomly, at the top of his head. “Hawaii. Oh! maybe Germany?” he offered, clicking his tongue, as he chased his train of thought. “I hope it has a nice home, or well, owner really…”

“Actually, I took it on tour with me. I sleep in it on the bus,” Kris finally said quietly, with a soft chuckle.

Adam gaped a little on the other line. “Oh.”
“Oh?” Kris repeated, with a lopsided grin. “Is that all you have to say?”

“You’re such a girl, Kristopher Allen.”

“And you’re such an asshole Adam Lambert,” Kris replied sharply, but still held an amused tone. “Goodnight babe.”

“Night,” Adam replied, with a smile and ended the call.

- - - -

“I brought the Christmassy bows!” Alisan exclaimed, arriving at the mostly empty Starbucks, countless of shopping bags in her hands.

Adam grinned, as he was taking a sip of his Chi tea and pushed a tall caramel decaf Frappacino. “And I got you this.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Alisan replied all giddy with smiles, as she run her hand through her slightly frizzy, pink streaked hair.

Adam’s lips twitched upward, behind his too big sunglasses. “Ditto, hon.”

Allison held her cold coffee in her hand, before holding it mid-air. “Here’s to a fabulous shoe shopping day and for your pocket idol coming home in two days,” she offered, as Adam carefully bumped his tall tea against hers. “Cheers.”

- - - -

“Go to sleep,” Adam remarked, as he got the table ready, balancing his phone in-between his shoulder and jaw. Any minute now, Danielle and Cassidy would arrive for lunch and he still wasn’t halfway done preparing the meal. There was a clinking of glasses, as he settled one by each plate.

“’bout to, hold up,” Kris replied, as he shuffled out of the limo and carefully ducked into the hotel with his handlers. It had been a long, exhausting day from TV appearances, magazine interviews (two of those, mind you) and recording his guest appearance for Glee. He hadn‘t had a second to just breathe and relax.

“Hey, Adam?”
“Yeah?”

“I think I love you,” Kris breathed through the receiver, once he was tucked in his hotel room, kicking off his chucks. “Is that okay?”

Adam’s heart kicked up like a drum. “It’s more than okay.”

- - - -

“So, he told you he loved you?” Cassidy said, quirking a brow over a mug of steaming hot chocolate. “So, shouldn’t you…I don’t know,” he held his hand high, gesturing at something. “Be getting hitched -- you know, very hetro like and all.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “We’re not getting hitched,” he began. “Not when he’s across the country anyway,” he sighed, looking out towards the beach. “And, I can’t believe you’re having cocoa. We‘re in California for Christ sakes.”

Cassidy shrugged. “It’s the holiday spirit,” he said. “You’re Jewish, so you don’t understand.”

“Hilarious.”
“Thanks,” he replied cheekily, sipping on his cocoa.
Adam glared. “I’ll push you off this terrace.”
Cassidy frowned. “You really are a bitch during the holidays,” he said slowly, before his lips quirked into a smirk. “Or, when you haven’t gotten laid in months.”

“Fuck the terrace. I’m going to strangle you!”

- - - -

“You look miserable,” Kris quipped at the screen, head titling to the side, studying Adam. He was wearing his glasses -- which definitely, wasn’t fair for Adam. Like, super unfair. Kris was hot as it was, but with the glasses? Adam was ready to jump his laptop or something.

Adam missed Kris, but in more ways than one he had come to admit. Because, Cassidy was right (that asshole). He was horny and lonely and just wanted Kris home.

Adam sighed, fidgeting with the web cam. “Just tired,” he muttered, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “It’s super late here,” he added in an after thought, chewing on his bottom lip. His eyes were literally glued to the sharp of Kris’ revealed tanned chest; some buttons were undone on his black and blue plaid shirt. Adam suddenly wondered why he had held anything against plaid.

“You’re horny,” came Kris’ perfect, monotone voice.
Adam’s eyes went wide. “What?” he squeaked out, totally caught off guard. Was he that fucking obvious?

Kris just seemed amused. “You’re looking at me like…” he trailed off, with a chuckle. “When you know…“ he trailed off, with a casual shrug. “…wanna fuck.”

Adam held a breath. “You know Cale is definitely starting to rub you the wrong way -- with all your swearing, and,” he stumbled over his tongue, trying to cover up. He was failing miserably, however.

Kris chewed on his bottom lip then, as he began to unbutton the rest of his plaid shirt, shedding more light to the stretch of perfect, toned skin.

Adam’s eyebrows knitted in confusion, holding a breath. “What are you doing?”

“Gimme a second,” Kris said, getting up from the couch and picked up his laptop; Adam’s screen showing bits and parts of Kris’ hotel room. Kris sat up on his bed finally, situating the laptop in front of him.

Kris shook off the shirt from his shoulders, his hand then beginning to skim over his chest. He looked right at the web camera, a smirk spread out on his lips. “It’s okay Adam. I get it -- I mean, I did get off to you in the shower this morning, so.” Kris’ hand trailed down his abdomen, as he undid his jeans and shoved a hand inside his pants.

“Kristopher what the actual fuck--” Adam said, scandalized. But, not all the way. If the bulge forming in his sweatpants was any indication.

Let’s just say, Adam got his early Christmas gift.

- - - -

Adam sat on the floor, in front of his TV wrapping gifts and placing bows on boxes.

“Yeah, the tour will start around February in London and we’ll go through Europe, then Asia,” Kris said. “And we’ll come back here in the states, ending around May.”

Jay Leno smiled. “Excellent,” he said. “Which by the way Kris will be performing his new single ‘August is over’ later on in the show, from his sophomore album Transit Hearts-- which by the way is great stuff,” he told Kris, flashing the album towards the camera.

Immediately, the audience clapped and cheers scattered around the room.

“Thank you, Jay,” Kris replied, a shy grin forming on his lips.

Adam smiled at this; Even after all these years, and all the glitz and the fame, Kris still held such a humbleness.

“Now,” Jay said, pausing a second to think. “We’ve got to talk about you know-- well, you know.” He chuckled, hoping Kris would catch on.

“That you‘re insanely sexy?” he quipped with a wide grin, as the audience bubbled up in laughter. Adam knew this was Kris’ way to avoid questions about their private relationship. It had been almost two years, but both him and Adam did their best to keep matters under wraps. They only talked about their careers or music; it was a rarity they ever talked about their personal lives.

“Well, since we’re on the subject of sexy people --- myself included -- how about that sexy boyfriend of yours, Adam?” Jay stated, with a chuckle.

Kris laughed, taking a sip from his mug. “He’s good.”


“I bet he’s better than good,” Jay pressed, holding the same wide grin. “Do we hear wedding bells sometime soon?”


Kris smiled slowly, putting down his mug. “Depends, you know if he decides to put a ring on it,” he said, flashing his bare ring finger. “The ball’s in his court.”

Adam laughed, taping the side of one of the boxes. “Sure, sure Allen,” he muttered, perching a golden bow on the top of the box. Some audience members began doing cat calls.

Jay laughed, eyes crinkling. “How about kids?” he asked. “Doing the Brangelina thing or--”
“Nah,” Kris interrupted. “We’re hoping for triplets,” he crossed his fingers then, laughing
.

Jay laughed. “Kris Allen everybody! We’ll be right back with Cillian Murphy.”

The camera shot went wide, showing Jay lean over and say something to Kris, who merely laughed some more; Jay doing the same, patting the younger man’s shoulder. And commercials flashed before Adam’s eyes.

- - - -

“So, kids, hm?” Adam called afterwards, with a laugh.
“Triplets actually,” Kris corrected the other.

Adam ran his fingers through his soft hair. “Whose having them?”

“Well, not me. I have to keep this sexy figure you like Adam,” Kris quipped seriously. Adam laughed.

- - - -

text message to Adam (11:46 PM):

An interview came up. I won’t be home for x-mas. Sorry adam. I love you

- - - -

Adam awoke to Kris’ text on Christmas morning. He frowned, curling up in a fetal position in bed for a long time, it felt. His breathing was slow, but steady, swearing to himself he would not cry -- that he should’ve expected this. Kris was a star -- he had an album out -- of course, he’d be busy during this time. Adam let out a soft, pitiful sardonic laugh. It ached in a way, but he got up anyway.

It was the least he could do.

- - - -

He left the bathroom, showered and dressed in soft cotton sweats, heading towards the kitchen, ready to make himself a cup of coffee and a batch of gingerbread cookies. He’d decided he’d eat the whole batch. Fuck carbs; just because, he let Kris off the hook, didn’t mean he couldn’t be bitter about it.

Except, he wasn’t expecting Kris to be standing there -- in the middle of the kitchen, with a Christmas bow, pressed to his head. Breakfast was cooked and displayed all out on the kitchen table behind him. Adam’s pretty sure he saw Halva and latkes cooked -- with the batch of gingerbread cookies and menorah lit up, included.

“Surprise?” Kris offered, with a quirk of a grin, hands dug into the pockets of his jeans. Adam still stood there, eyes wide and so caught off guard.

“You little bastard!” he exclaimed finally, as he attacked Kris, wrapping his arms around him. Kris merely laughed, wrapping his arms around Adam’s middle. “I just wanted to surprise you,” he mumbled against Adam’s sweater. “And give you what you wanted for Christmas,” he added, with a wide grin, as Adam let him go.

Adam chuckled, holding a loose arm around Kris’ waist. “Oh, so that’s what the bow is for?” he mused, fingers grazing the bow on top of Kris’ head. “It’s perfect.”

Kris grinned, teeth flashing. “`Course, I am. I’m cute and in Christmas plaid.”

Adam snorted, because he was. “God, you are so fucking cute and perfect and mine,” he murmured, before he leaned over and kissed him softly -- at first -- the kiss became needy, quickly. Kris leaned up on his toes, responding fervently to the kiss, fingers gripping the fabric of Adam’s sweater. It had been too long.

“Can I unwrap you?” Adam said in-between brushes of lips, as he began to manhandle, Kris back to their bedroom. Kris laughed breathlessly against his lips, feeling Adam’s fingers slip underneath his shirt and began touching his bare hips. “That was my evil plan all along.” He smirked, as he was led to their bedroom, before being straddled by Adam (who by this point had lost his sweater and shirt at the door of the bedroom; Kris had lost his jeans at the foot of the bed).

- - - -

Kris brushed his lips against Adam’s earlobe, afterwards.

“I love you,” Adam murmured softly, his fingers tangling in Kris’ damp hair. Kris grinned, lips following along his jaw line -- kissing every freckle in sight. “I love you too.”

Adam’s eyelashes fluttered like butterflies -- tiredly, but content nonetheless, before enveloping Kris in his arms, underneath the covers like he normally did -- Kris’ back to Adam’s chest, legs tangled. Kris took Adam’s hand then, kissing his knuckles.

“Merry Christmas Adam,” he whispered, snuggling close to Adam and closed his eyes.

Adam smiled then, lips pressing against Kris‘ bare shoulder. “You too, baby,” he breathed soundlessly, closing his eyes.

- - - -
Tags: kradam, ship: adam lambert/kris allen, writing
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