Pairing: Adam/Kris (American Idol)
Rating: PG (for language)
Note: My first AI fic! Thanks to o4fuxache for the beta. ♥
Written for ontd_ai's Drabble Challenge prompt: #16 Adam/Kris, kitchen of Adam's apartment: Kris realizes he loves Adam in the not just a friend way, any rating, any time after the finale
Adam hums thoughtfully at the array of clothing choices he has scattered across his living room furniture and looks up at Kris like he can actually help.
Two years of friendship hasn't made it any easier for Kris to understand Adam's taste in fashion. He takes the last bite of his turkey sandwich, puts on his thoughtful face while he chews, swallows and says decisively, "I like the one with the metal things."
There are probably only two pieces of clothing without studs, grommets or other metal enhancements, so Kris laughs and dodges Adam's huffy smack as he gets up to wash his empty plate.
Halfway into the kitchen, Kris hears Adam declare, "I have made my wardrobe selection for tomorrow evening's festivities."
(The "festivities" consist of going out to some club for Matt's birthday with everyone that's in town right now, and Kris finds it hilarious when Adam gets like this about new clothes. Which is every time he gets new clothes. So Kris finds him hilarious a lot.)
"Can you get the scissors?" Adam continues. "I have to cut the tags off of these before I change my mind."
Kris grins and puts his plate in the sink, going directly for the third drawer beside the fridge and shuffles around through Chinese food menus and matches.
"Oh," Adam calls, as an afterthought, "they're in the-"
"Third drawer, yeah," Kris calls back absently. Man, Adam has a lot of twist ties. Where do they even come from?
"That's. Yeah," Adam says, and then nothing else. He sounds kind of surprised, which is weird. Of course Kris knows where the scissors are. He found them when he kind of destroyed Adam's kitchen drawers looking for a paper clip for the lyric-covered scraps of a new song. He was running late to the studio that day and Adam had already left for a lunch meeting.
("A lunch meeting with fucking Bowie's people, Kris! Fuck, what do you order to eat in front of people who eat with David Bowie on a regular basis?")
Kris thinks about his own apartment twenty minutes away; officially his two months ago, a week into recording for his second album when the man his momma raised couldn't let himself impose on Adam's hospitality anymore.
Not that he stays at his new place much; it's farther from the studio than Adam's and also pretty lonely (first place that's his since Katy; first time he's ever lived alone), so when Adam offers to let him still crash for late nights and early mornings, he doesn't say no.
It happens a lot; studio time isn't ever exactly during regular business hours. And being in LA also means interviews and meetings with the label and working all times of the night and day, so it's hardly Kris' fault he only ever goes home to get clean clothes sometimes and check his mail.
He's had his own place for two months and he's not sure he remembers which cabinet the coffee mugs are in, but he knows the location and contents of Adam's junk drawer, and he also knows what that means. He knows.
Kris never thought about it (he never let himself think about it) before. But now he can't ignore it (and he doesn't want to).
He's pretty sure that Adam already knows. Ten feet away, on the other side of the wall, Adam's silence maybe means he knows that Kris knows, too.
He looks down at the sandwich bags and rubber bands and twist ties and take out menus and thinks they're going to need a bigger junk drawer.