winterlive | [ ain't no sunshine ]

charity fic: kradam edition! for details, please see previous post.

kris/adam, pg-13, for

mcollinknight.

~

"I don't know what's so hard about it," Kris says, and even though his voice is even, Adam can tell that he's trying to keep a hold on his temper. Kris is ridiculously easy to read; Adam could tell that the minute he got this gig. And what he's thinking now is crystal clear.

Adam's on stage in his favorite Bowie shirt, which is what he always wears for rehearsals, even though it's one in the morning and everyone else has gone home. Kris is sitting at the director's desk in the run-down old theater, his beloved fucking sheet music in front of him. Adam's got to guess at where exactly that is, because the floodlights are on and he can't see. He crosses his arms over his chest and deliberately cocks his hip. "It's easy for you to say tone it down," he says coldly. "You've never played a real stage, okay? It's different in a fucking coffee shop; when I'm up here I have to emote."

Adam can hear Kris sigh through the speakers, even though he probably turned his face away from the microphone. "Emotion is good," he says, schooling his tone. "It needs emotion, I just need a different direction."

In Adam's vast experience, different direction coupled with tone it down only means one thing: don't be such a fag. He took this job because the music was amazing, even if the writer/director was a fucking worship leader from Arkansas, and he'd expected some static on this front, but it's harder than he'd thought to swallow it down, because he'd thought the guy would at least recognize a good lead when he had it. Adam grits his teeth obstinately. "Well, direct me, okay? Because I don't get it."

Another sigh, and then a thump. Adam is confused for a second, but then the footsteps clue him in – the guy is actually coming up onto Adam's fucking stage. He tries to keep the incredulousness in check, and watches as Kris climbs the stairs.

"Listen," Kris says, his face beautiful in the sudden luminance. It only makes Adam more furious – the guy is straight and hot and a total princess about his art. Not fucking fair. Kris stands opposite him, earnestness and frustration pouring off him in equal measure. "You have great passion. I need passion, but just not so theatrical."

Adam stares at him, trying to find some way to parse theatrical that isn't too fucking gay. His blood pressure is steadily rising. "We are literally standing in a theater," he grits out, gesturing at the boards of the stage.

Kris blows out a harsh breath, even his famous patience wearing thin. (Adam was forced to listen to the rest of the cast go on and fucking on about how oh, Kris was so kind and so good to the actors and always got the best performance out of everyone; what the fuck ever.) He opens his hands in Adam's direction, his generous mouth set tightly. "I just need a little less grand drama, okay? It should be played closer to the chest, not so... flamboyant?"

"Oh, just fucking say it," Adam snaps. "Where the fuck do you get off telling a lead in musical fucking theater that he's too fucking gay? Because let me just tell you, sweetheart –"

"You're gay," Kris interrupts, and Adam pauses mid-diatribe, because Kris sounds almost surprised, which makes no sense at all. "You're gay, you did say that, right?"

Adam blinks at him, totally confused. "Yeah, I said that. As did my entire wardrobe. And my speech patterns."

"I don't believe in assuming," Kris says, and no, that's not surprise. That's relief. "I didn't want to offend you, just in case."

Adam can't be more turned around by this. He knew he was gay at eight, and his parents knew before that. He works with gay people and he knows gay people and okay, that's kind of weird sometimes, but seriously, how could anybody not know? "Honey, I am so confused right now. Explain yourself."

Kris smiles. "I want less Priscilla, more Brokeback."

Adam blinks at him again. "Well, why didn't you just say that? And how have you seen Priscilla, country boy?"

"Maybe you shouldn't assume things either," Kris fires back, and his smile's a bit wicked now. It looks good on him.

"You are not gay," Adam says, because it's too impossible to believe otherwise.

"Bisexual, actually, not that it matters at all. Now give it to me again, from the top."

This day is not turning out as Adam expected at all, but he's surprisingly okay with it. "Actually," he smiles. "That's kind of my specialty."

Kris stands there for a second, staring at him and blushing. "I'm going back to the director's box now," he says, and practically runs off the stage.

Adam does a little deep breathing, dredges up some of the worst memories he has, and then tears into the song a few keys down, the most country that Adam knows how to get. It's actually kind of perfect; way better than it was as a power ballad. And Kris doesn't say a word until Adam's last non-glory note has faded from the air.

"That was beautiful, man."

"Glad you liked," Adam says, feeling downright pleased with himself. "It's so late. Let's call it a day, okay?"

"No problem," Kris says, yawning nearby the microphone. "I think we ironed this one out."

Adam smiles. "You take the bus, don't you?"

"Car costs an arm and a leg out here."

"Let me give you a lift home," Adam says, and knows that the hesitation that follows means yes.

~

kris/adam, pg-13, for

daemonicangel.

~

"Senator, your meeting is here."

Katy's voice is smooth and even, and its presence – even via speakerphone – is absolutely required at the moment. Kris stands up, sits back down again and smoothes his lapels, then pushes the button on his phone that usually lets him talk back to his secretary. Right now it's letting him talk back to his Chief of Staff, but that's only because she insisted that not making this particular appointment wait at the door would be a huge tactical error, and his secretary had already gone home for the night, and she wouldn't let him argue her out of it. No way, she'd said, in the same tone of voice she'd used on him when they were ten and Kris had been asking for a kiss. You're going to need every advantage you can get on this one, believe me.

"Thank you," Kris says, standing up one more time, his nerves buzzing and his voice just a hair unsteady. "Send him in, please."

The door opens, and framed in it is a mercenary who's made most of Washington shake in their boots. He's easily the most feared lobbyist on the Hill; from the little intel that Katy was able to relay in five minutes, Kris knows that the man works for causes – whichever one pays most this month. It's anybody's guess what the hell he's here for tonight, though Katy guessed it might have something to do with the same-sex marriage bill that's up in Maryland. The guy is notorious for gay rights cases. As he walks in, Kris sees that his gray suit is as perfect as the first coffee in the morning, and he smiles like a man who has no idea that the workday started twelve hours ago. He comes to the edge of Kris's desk, his hand out. "Senator Allen, it's so nice to meet you. I'm Adam Lambert."

Kris takes that hand, and it's bigger than his. Warmer. "Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Lambert." Kris says, making the effort to smile. "Please, take a seat."

Lambert holds his hand for a second too long, and Kris feels a twinge of something pleasant in his stomach that he ruthlessly tamps down. Lambert's smile, when he steps back, is sharklike. "What have you heard?" he asks, lowering himself into one of the wingbacks and crossing his legs.

"Just that you're a ruthless bastard who'll stop at nothing to get exactly what you want," Kris says, because he doesn't see the point in lying when the truth will do perfectly. "And I should hope that whatever it is, I'm willing to part with it easily."

Lambert laughs high in the back of his throat, totally unselfconscious, the way no politician would ever do. "Okay, Kris," he says, a wry smile twisting onto his lips. "Okay. You're cute. I'll give you that."

Kris can't help but smile back. "Thanks, Adam. Since we're on first names."

"Tell you what," Lambert says, his eyes narrowed as he lifts up his briefcase and puts it on his lap. "Let's just see what we can do about this little thing I want, and then I'll be out of your hair. Sound good?"

"I hope so," Kris says.

The sheaf of paper that thumps down on his desk is an inch thick. Lambert puts a finger down on it, and Kris notices a pair of heavy silver rings gleaming on his index and ring fingers. (Right hand, his mind notes quietly.) Lambert leans in, lowers his voice to a more serious tone. "This is a motion to close Pine Bluff Arsenal."

Kris feels his eyebrows arch right off his head. "You've got to be kidding me."

"You wish," Lambert says, perfectly straightfaced. "The impact on the environment can't be ignored any longer. It needs to go to someplace where the waste can be disposed of safely, and the Arkansas national parks do not qualify. Tell me it doesn't say the natural state on your driver's license."

Kris just laughs, incredulous. "Listen, I respect what you do, Mr. Lambert. And I can promise you I respect the environment, but the dumping procedures have been strictly vetted for the minimum possible damage, and they wouldn't be any different if you moved the PBA to the moon. That installation provides thousands of jobs in my state; it supports a whole town, and that isn't even touching the government money it brings in. I'm not closing it."

Lambert smiles, and for the first time since he sat down, it's not friendly. "I invite you to review the package, Senator. I'll give your office a call tomorrow morning, and we'll chat a little more then. Okay?" He closes his briefcase and stands up.

Kris tears his eyes away from the sheaf of papers squatting toadlike on his desk, and extends his hand out of habit. When Lambert takes it, he squeezes firmly, and Kris is startled into looking at him.

His eyes are intense and focused. Kris feels like a bug with a pin in it, but even so, a part of his mind is wondering if Lambert is really wearing eyeliner. It looks like he's wearing freaking eyeliner. "I'm not a man you want on the other side, Senator. Honestly, I'd rather take you to dinner than fight with you. So go through that. Really look at it. And maybe we can get that dinner after all."

"I will," Kris says, heat climbing his cheeks. He's not sure whether he's angry or outraged or what, but either way, it doesn't feel good. He's pretty sure it doesn't feel good. "You can believe I will."

Five minutes later, Lambert's gone and Katy's across the desk looking at the motion, and Kris is ordering Chinese food because they're in for a long damn night.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

jamesinboots.livejournal.com

Kris smiles. "I want less Priscilla, more Brokeback."

Adam blinks at him again. "Well, why didn't you just say that? And how have you seen Priscilla, country boy?"

Hee hee hee, oh BOYS. I COULD JUST SQUISH THEM TO PIECES. :DDDDD

You know, Kris makes the most adorable senator ever, doesn't he? Even when he has to be all senator-like, you know he's still a POCKET SENATOR. ZOMG YAYEEEEEE.

EEE THESE WERE BRILLIANT. *CLAPPY*

From:

(but for who can endure it)

[ ain't no sunshine ]

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