jerakeen

I'm not here

jerakeen.c@gmail.com — Mon, 23 Nov 2009 20:06:46 GMT

I have a deadline that's giving me panic attacks every three minutes, so I really shouldn't be here, but I just had to stop and breathe for a moment, and I guess if you don't tell anyone and I don't tell anyone (and if the cat doesn't tell anyone), then just a drive-by post would be okay.

In the last three days, I wrote around 35,000 words (I didn't breathe in between) and it's all for work. How fucking sad is that? And I'm only halfway done. I'll be up tonight writing, too, because I have a lot more to get done before Wednesday. But after that, I'm free. There's a holiday coming up and I have 4 and a half days off. Thank fuck.

I haven't replied to your comments, because I had no frickin' time, but I really really REALLY appreciate all the love and the hugs and the recs and the scarves and the lolcats and um. stuff. *loves* And God bless my flist (and my crack dealer fouremptyrooms) for providing me with links and videos and pictures and keeping me in the loop. I guess I would've seen the kiss regardless (It was on CNNTurk. Mind boggling.) but the accompanying squee makes it more fun. (CNNTurk is pretty lacking in that department. It said "Man-to-man kiss on stage!" under the picture. Not a gay kiss or anything. It's a man-to-man kiss.)

Anyway. I'm trying to keep my Adam comments to a minimum in general, so my opinions on his AMA performance and dancing and singing and hair (most importantly) are going to stay in my head, safe and cozy, but his performance got me thinking about something and I can't turn off the fandom side of my brain because of it. You all saw that roll Adam did on stage--it was very ninja of him--didn't it make you instantly think Cop!Adam AU? No? Was it just me? Seriously?

But think about it. He and Kris are partners and best friends (that part is totally plausible) and when the chief asks for someone to go undercover in a nightclub, Adam volunteers (also very plausible), he'll be a dancer or a stripper or something (don't tell me that's not plausible) but Kris won't fit in, so he has to just stand back and watch, and he hates that. And then Adam gets carried away and kisses a guy on stage (it's part of his performance!) and Kris is all jealous and bitchy, and then there's some plot, action and danger and whatever (I suck at that part) and then it's a happy ending, preferably with against-the-wall hot Cop!Sex. The End.

Yes. Now. Who's going to write this for me?

(I'm gonna get disappeared now and work on my boring, boring work-stuff. You guys better have decided who's gonna write this by the time I'm back.)

Screw up

jerakeen.c@gmail.com — Sat, 21 Nov 2009 16:00:56 GMT

I screwed up at work. I made a mistake in April and it came back on Friday to bite me in the ass. It's an innocent mistake, could've happened to anyone, but then there's a series of follow-up mistakes which are not mine, but ends up being blamed on me anyway, and what it all adds up to is--kind of horrible.

I've always found it extremely humiliating to make such mistakes. I mean, I'd be the first to tell you that I'm not perfect, not even close, but I know what I can do and what I can't, and when I screw up something I shouldn't have, I feel terrible. I was like that in school, too, but at work, it's a million times worse.

In this particular situation, people who should've owned up to their own mistakes didn't, and that made me feel all kinds of shitty. But whatever. I know who did what, and I'm not going to go around pointing fingers. It did start with me, so it's not like I don't deserve this.

What makes it completely unbearable is the fact that I work with my father, so this screw up means I disappointed him, and he's the kind of guy that will not let you forget what you did wrong, ever. He's been giving me the how could you do this speech over and over and over again for two days now and I feel like my head is going to explode if he doesn't stop soon.

I feel like screaming, but I can't. (I feel like crying, too, but I won't. I refuse to cry over this, because it's not the work stuff that makes me want to cry, it's my dad doing the emotional guilt trip, and I WILL NOT cry over that. Nope. Not gonna happen.)

So my Friday sucked. And today sucked, because I was at work again, and I'll have to come in tomorrow, too, and on Monday, I'll have to stay late. It's going to be an awesome week.

*sigh* Just needed to vent. I'll be back and squeeing in no time, I'm sure.

Glee Fic: Spin

jerakeen.c@gmail.com — Thu, 19 Nov 2009 21:08:53 GMT

This is not Kradam. *gasp* I blame Kurt's stupid little bitch-face.

Glee / Puck/Kurt / PG-13 / 1,098 words

Not mine. No spoilers. This is just an experiment to see if I can write these guys.

The bottle spins and spins and spins, and when it finally stops, it’s pointing right at Kurt.

But of course it is. Kurt has no idea why he’s even surprised. Tonight was bound to be humiliating for him; there was no way around it. Kiss a girl, be humiliated, kiss a guy, be humiliated. He never should’ve said yes to Finn. It just caught him off guard, because—well. It was Finn.

Quinn gives him an evil grin; she does those evil grins so well, Kurt has to take a moment to admire it. He can glare with the best of them, but when it comes to grins, all he can come up with is goofy.

“I’m not kissing him,” Kurt intones, sparing Puck only a passing glance.

“Rules are the rules,” Quinn singsongs, annoyingly fake-cheerful.

Everyone stares at Kurt and no one comes to his rescue. He has been sold for the price of a couple minutes of amusement. Again. He crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head no. There is no way he’s touching that imbecile. Certainly not in front of Finn!

“Come on, Hummel,” Puck’s drawling voice comes from somewhere to his right. Kurt turns his head around to find him on his hands and knees, just a couple of inches away.

“What are you doing?” he snaps. “Keep your slobbering lips away from me!”

“Dude, I do not slobber,” Puck says, moving closer. Kurt jumps up before Puck can touch him.

“You know what? This is bullshit,” he says, grabbing his bag. He is blushing; he can feel his cheeks burning. There is no way he’s going to stay and let them mock him. “You guys have fun. I’m going home.”

He doesn’t wait to listen to their protests. If only Mercedes was here. How the hell did he manage to step into the lion’s den so defenseless? Alone and vulnerable and helpless—he’s practically Bambi.

He hears Puck say something like, “Did he just call me a bad kisser?” but he doesn’t wait to hear the rest before he waves goodbye dismissively in the group’s general direction, and throws himself out the door—with as much grace as he can muster at that moment, which is, admittedly, not much.

The cold air hits his face, stinging his cheeks and making him shiver, and he thanks God that his father let him drive today. His steps quicken instinctively when he catches sight of the jeep. Just a couple more minutes and this whole thing will be behind him. It’ll be just another mortifying incident he will add to his mental collection of millions, so insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Kurt has learned to count it a win when his clothes get out of these situations unscathed, and his jacket is good as new this time. This is nothing.

He’s about to open the car door when someone grabs his arm and whirls him around. He gasps in surprise and his heart jumps up to his throat when he realizes who it is. Puck is looming over him, pushing him against the jeep with his own body, standing firm in Kurt’s personal space.

Kurt does his best to school his features and get his breathing under control.

“What?” he asks, calling up all the bravado he’s capable of at the moment. Do not show fear, Bambi, he tells himself. These monsters can smell fear.

Puck leans closer to him; his breath stinks of beer and chips. “I’m a good kisser,” he says, and before Kurt can even roll his eyes, he smushes their lips together.

Now, Kurt is not an expert on the subject, but he thinks Puck must be doing something wrong. Their mouths are pressed so tightly together that Kurt can’t even make the eww sound that really wants to be let out of his lips, and—shouldn’t there be some movement, maybe?

Kurt sighs inwardly. Of course, Noah Puckerman would find a way to ruin Kurt’s first kiss for him. Of course.

Kurt shakes his arm, trying to free it of Puck’s hand, but that only earns him an even tighter grip. Just as he’s contemplating the mechanics of kicking Puck in the balls—and thinking eww, Puck’s balls—Puck makes an impatient sound, tilts his head to the left, and kisses him.

Like, really kisses him.

And it’s good.

There are lips, and tongues, and yes, okay, a little bit of slobber involved, and it makes Kurt’s fingertips tingle. It makes him forget that he was protesting—why was that again?—and it draws a breathless moan that he will probably deny to his dying day actually belonged to him.

Then Puck moves back, letting go of his arm, and Kurt blinks a couple of times to get his brain back on track.

Puck. Car. Home. Bambi.

Puck doesn’t look like he’s doing any better, but then again, he probably only has half the brain cells Kurt has anyway. It doesn’t take a lot to confuse the guy. And he seems very confused right now, because his face gets closer to Kurt’s again, as if—he’s leaning in for another kiss?

Kurt jerks back like he’s been burned and hits the back of his head against the car. “Ow.”

Puck steps away and stuffs his hands in his pockets. Kurt rubs the back of his head for lack of a better thing to do.

“I do not slobber,” Puck grumbles after a brief and uncomfortable silence.

Kurt smirks, and it’s not even all bravado this time. “Yeah. Whatever,” he says, opening the car door with only-slightly-shaky hands. He manages to start the car and is about to release the parking break when he sees Puck move closer and actually knock on the window.

Kurt glares at him.

Puck smiles, making an annoyingly languid roll down the window motion with his hand.

Kurt should not. He most definitely should not. But he does.

“What!”

Puck’s lips stretch into a fond—what the fuck?—shit eating grin. Kurt has just enough time to think oh, that cannot be good, before Puck reaches inside to pull Kurt into another slightly-slobbering-but-damn-good kiss. This time, Kurt can’t even deny the moan is his.

“Okay,” Puck says in a hoarse voice, hands braced on the sides of the open window, “Now you can go.” He pushes away and slouches his way back to the house.

Kurt makes himself close his mouth—it is most unbecoming—and tries very hard to keep his eyes away from Puck’s ass. It doesn’t really work.

Podfic: The Epiphany Series

jerakeen.c@gmail.com — Thu, 19 Nov 2009 07:43:44 GMT

I don't feel like updating my website. I don't feel like doing much of anything, really. And the next ten days are going to be stupid busy for me, so I guess the website (and everything else) is just gonna have to wait.

But! I don't really have to update the website to let you all know that shiningartifact has finished recording the Epiphany Series as a podfic. You can find it in parts and as a whole here. Please make sure to let her know if you've been enjoying her work, because she's going to brave the bff fic next!

And since I'm already here, let me rec these and get them out of the way:

loud (baby i'm falling away) by holycitygirl {sequel to loud (you were always good at putting words together) which I recced yesterday}
AI8 | Kris/Adam | R | Future Fic | 2,300 words
He thought if he ever did this it would be with -

What the Heart Wants by terra_lilly {not the most awesome ending, but I really enjoyed the fic}
Star Trek | Kirk/Spock | Not Rated | Jealousy | 4,800 words
Jim thinks, all in all, he's kept things pretty well under wraps.

Implicitly by jaylee_g & sundara {again, love the beginning, not so much the ending}
Star Trek | Kirk/Spock | NC-17 | 5,288 words
It had always been Spock; from the moment they met, it had been Spock.

Not-Really-a-Drabble-Anymore for lexiewallace

jerakeen.c@gmail.com — Wed, 18 Nov 2009 23:25:50 GMT

I owed lexiewallace a drabble from way back when. Here's... something like it.

AU / PG-13 / Not mine. No disrespect or offense intended to anyone. Back button saves lives.

(Also, this ridiculous thing has a soundtrack.)

“I knew they were going to pull something like this. I knew it,” Adam says tiredly as soon as the shiny mahogany door of Arthur’s office closes behind the two of them.

Kris just sighs and picks up Adam’s suitcase. Having come here straight from the airport, they are both way too exhausted to get properly angry, and in any case, they both know any anger on their part would be completely useless. The suits will get what they want one way or another.

It’s not like they care that Adam (and Kris) has been living on a bus for three months now. They don’t know that Adam had to use three times the normal amount of concealer this morning to cover up the dark shadows under his eyes, or that he’s had a grand total of four hours of sleep the night before. Kris could tell them, but then again, he’s too tired to.

“It’ll be okay. Let’s just go home. You need to sleep.”

They stop in front of the elevator doors and Adam takes the suitcase from Kris’ hand, giving him a disapproving look. Kris rolls his eyes. Adam’s sense of chivalry is awesome and all, but it’s in Kris’ job description to carry Adam’s stuff around for him. He may be smaller than Adam, but that doesn’t mean he can’t handle one small suitcase—with wheels.

The doors open with a cheerful chime, drawing an almost pained sound from Adam. He has been squinting his eyes for hours; Kris knows he must have one hell of a headache by now. But short of stopping to give him an impromptu head massage (which also happens to be in his job description) Kris doesn’t have a solution for it. They’ll be home soon enough. A couple of hours in his own bed, and Adam will be good as new.

The lights in the elevator are way too bright and the mirrored walls are not helping at all. Kris watches the numbers change on the screen, counting down from 20, and wishes the car would go down faster… 19, 18, 17… until they stop with a jerk and the lights blink out, leaving them in total darkness. Adam lets out an incredulous sounding gasp and bumps into the back wall with a soft thud; in what Kris knows must have been a completely irrational attempt to escape from the little box of death—as Adam fondly calls all elevator cars.

Kris takes a deep breath and tells himself that it won’t help if he starts screaming in rage. The lights will be back on soon. Surely, there’s a backup generator or something. It’ll kick in. Any second now. Because there must be a limit to the number of things that can go wrong in one day, and he’s pretty sure they hit that at around 9 AM this morning.

-

Kris takes out his phone and uses its backlight to look at Adam. All he can see is a silhouette in the corner, but you don’t spend a year as Adam Lambert’s personal assistant and not learn to read his moods from his posture. Kris is pretty sure Adam is as close to throwing up as he was the time he tried drinking beer with a Malibu Rum chaser. Puke is just what this day needs—like it didn’t stink enough already.

“Adam, you okay?” Kris holds the phone closer to Adam’s face. Rapid breathing, clenched jaw, but no throwing up yet. That’s good.

“Fine,” Adam says, lying through his tightly clenched teeth.

“We’re gonna be okay. You just keep on breathing. I’m going to call Arthur.”

Adam makes a vaguely positive humming sound in his throat. Kris dials Arthur’s number, taking his anger out on the buttons of his phone. He is sick of these goddamn suits with their goddamn bullshit parties and their goddamn offices with their goddamn elevators—

“Hey. Is Arthur there?”

-

Having talked to Arthur’s assistant, his bodyguard, and a guy called Jerry from building security, Kris thinks it sounds like no one knows what the hell is going on, and there’s a good chance that he and Adam will be stuck in that elevator for a long, long time. Of course, he doesn’t tell that to Adam. Kris has been building his career on the little white lies he tells to and for Adam; he’s not about to stop at a time like this.

“They say the power will be back on soon,” he says calmly. “They’re working on it.”

Adam doesn’t reply, just keeps on wheezing, his breaths coming quicker with every passing second.

“You’re supposed to do it like—remember how Diane used to do it?”

“I’m not pregnant,” Adam bites out.

Kris can see nothing more than a vague shape in the dark, but he’s pretty sure Adam is glaring in his general direction. “Well, obviously not. I was just trying to help.”

Adam breathes, in and out. “Stop helping,” he snaps.

Kris rolls his eyes and leans back against the mirror to wait. He considers sitting down on the floor, but then decides against it. He may have to hold Adam’s hair back in a minute if he does end up getting sick.

“What are you going to wear tonight?” he asks Adam, keeping his voice carefully even. If there’s one thing that can get Adam’s mind off the current situation, it’s fashion.

The wheezing stops for a moment. “What?”

“Clothes,” Kris clarifies. “For the party you’ve been blackmailed into attending.”

“Oh,” Adam says, shuffling his feet. “I don’t know. Is it formal?” He doesn’t even pause before answering his own question. “It’s Arthur’s party, of course it’s formal. I probably have a suit I can wear.”

“You can wear the new Zegna,” Kris muses.

Adam makes a mmm sound, tapping his foot on the floor nervously. “With the green vest maybe.”

Kris shrugs. “You need a date?”

“God, no,” Adam says. “I’m just going to go, be seen by whoever the hell Arthur wants me to be seen by, and then I’m going back home to my bed. I don’t have the patience to deal with anything else.”

Kris doesn’t like the thought of Adam alone at a time like this. He’s going to be tired, and pissed, and in a room full of sharks. And if Kris knows Arthur, there’ll be about a million cameras on the way in and out. “I could call Steven?”

“Nah,” Adam says with a yawn. “Don’t bother him for something like this.”

“I’m sure—”

A hollow knocking sound comes from above them and Adam jumps with a soft gasp. Kris puts a hand on his arm instinctively and stands up straight to listen. “Hello?” he yells towards the door. “Anybody there?”

Kris waits, feeling Adam’s body rock with the tapping of his foot. No one answers.

“Damn.”

“I’m not climbing out,” Adam says in a hurry.

“What?” Kris turns to face him—not that he can see much.

Adam is shaking his head furiously. “If we’re between floors—I’m not climbing out.”

“Of course you’re not climbing out, are you crazy?”

“Oh.” The tapping slows down. “That—that’s good.”

Kris has been working for Adam for almost a year now. He lives with him, eats with him, breathes in sync with him; so he can say with confidence that aside from Adam’s family, he’s the one person who knows him the best.

Adam is full of contradictions. He’s very bright and intuitive about the things he cares about, and a complete dumbass about stuff he doesn’t. He’s levelheaded and good-natured, but he’s also prone to moments of complete irrationality. Kris has had to talk him down from his craziness many times before, so he knows how to handle him by now—though Adam would deny that claim if he ever heard Kris say it out loud—and the best way to get Adam under control is by getting in his personal space and giving him another presence to ground himself with.

It’s about respect and trust, Kris muses as he steps around the suitcase to get closer to Adam. As surprising as it is, those things go both ways between the two of them. Adam trusts Kris, and more importantly, he believes in Kris. All Kris has to do is make Adam focus long enough to listen and really hear what Kris is telling him.

Adam is wearing a leather jacket, it’s thick, with not much give, and Kris needs some kind of contact, so he slides his hand down Adam’s arm to his wrist and holds it in a firm grip. It would have helped if he could hold Adam’s gaze as well, but that’s obviously not happening in this case, so instead Kris settles for aligning their bodies closer together.

“Adam. Calm down.”

Adam nods.

“You’re fine here. We’re fine. We’re going to wait until the power comes back on, and then we’re going to get out.”

“Okay,” Adam says, his voice still coming out breathless.

“And no one’s going to be climbing anywhere.”

“Oka—”

There’s a sound like a distant explosion, and the car jerks up and down, as if it’s not sure which way to go. The lights flicker a couple of times, and Kris prays for them to stay on—come on, please, please—but of course they go out, and it’s back to the quiet darkness once again.

Adam whimpers.

Kris stops inwardly praying and cursing, and comes back to the moment to find Adam’s hands holding onto his arms, tight enough to hurt. Adam is strong—Kris would know, he spots for Adam when he works out—and his hands feel like iron bands around Kris’ biceps.

“Adam?” Kris says, keeping his voice low so as not to spook him any further.

“I hate elevators,” Adam says, sounding slightly hysterical. “They’re cramped and dangerous and—and—”

“Hey,” Kris says, closing the last half inch between the two of them and leaning his body against Adam’s. Adam is warm and comfortable as always, but right now, he also feels tense and twitchy. “Don’t think of that. Think of calming things. Wide open spaces. The ocean. Waves.”

“Waves aren’t calming,” Adam says, annoyed.

“Whatever.” Kris rolls his eyes. “Take a long, deep breath and think about whatever it is that calms you down.”

Adam does as Kris tells him—if only he was half as complying with Kris’ requests when he wasn’t panicked out of his mind—and his hands loosen their hold slowly.

“Good. Good. You’re doing—” Adam’s hands travel up Kris’ shoulders, brush the sides of his neck, and settle on his cheeks. “—good,” Kris finishes in a nasal voice, Adam’s hands squeezing his face.

“Calm,” Adam says, leaning his forehead against Kris’.

“Yeah,” Kris whispers inanely.

“Arizona,” Adam tells him decisively. “Remember that night—the stars, the breeze…”

Kris does remember. It was two months ago. Adam had a concert, a great crowd, and afterwards he was so high from the show, he couldn’t sleep. He woke Kris up at three in the morning and they had a picnic under the stars with the combined contents of their mini-bars. They ate a lot of peanuts.

“Yes, it was,” Kris agrees. He can almost feel the grass they laid on, and see the shooting stars Adam never quite managed to look up in time to catch.

“I’m in Arizona,” Adam whispers. His breath smells like the cucumbers he had on the plane. He leans down, closer, too close, and tilts his head a little to the side when their noses brush. “We’re in Arizona.”

Kris wants to say something, anything, but he’s afraid of what his lips will touch if he opens them now. Adam’s fingers are splayed out on his cheeks, fingertips brushing his ears, one of Adam's thumbs is resting at the corner of his mouth. This was not exactly what Kris had in mind when he first touched Adam to calm him down.

“Stars,” Kris hears Adam mumble as he closes the distance between their mouths, sealing their lips in a dry and innocent kiss. Kris stops breathing completely at the touch—his heart is doing a drum roll in his chest to get his attention—and can’t draw in any more air until Adam pulls back. He manages a stuttering breath then, but Adam doesn’t go far enough to let him get reacquainted with oxygen. He nuzzles Kris’ cheek, whispers what sounds like, “yes,”—but Kris must be wrong about that one; he cannot, will not, let himself fall into that kind of delusion—and locks their lips together once again.

This second one is a real kiss, there's no denying that. It’s everything Kris thought kissing a guy—oh, who is he kidding?—kissing Adam would be like. Adam’s lips are sure and strong, no trace of the fear left, and he kisses Kris the way he sings Kris’ favorite songs. Kris hears the opening notes of Blackbird in Adam’s kiss, then Adam’s hands tighten, pulling him in closer, and it turns into Bohemian Rhapsody, and when Adam bites Kris’ bottom lip, making desperate little noises into his mouth, Kris’ heart starts thumping to the rhythm of Paint It Black.

Kris honestly doesn’t know if he would have pulled back from that kiss at all if it wasn’t for the whirring sound. He automatically takes a step back when the lights come on and the car starts moving down again. Adam keeps standing right where he is, but Kris can’t bring himself to look up to gauge Adam's reaction. He keeps his eyes firmly fixed on the ugly, red and green checkered carpeting, and refuses to look anywhere else until the doors open with the stupid, cheerful chime.

Grabbing Adam’s suitcase doesn’t require thought, and stepping out of the elevator is a relief. Kris stops two steps out, waits for Adam to catch up—now he wants to stay in the elevator?—and sighs when Adam reaches for the handle of the suitcase. He lets go, of course, there’s no use fighting Adam on this, but Adam’s fingers wrap around Kris’ hand instead of taking ahold of the grey and gold suitcase. And when Kris doesn’t react—he can’t, the part of his brain that reacts to strange happenings must have short-circuited with the elevator—Adam tugs at his hand impatiently and pulls him back in through the still open doors of the elevator.

The doors close behind them and Adam hits the stop button. Kris finds himself thinking that maybe it was Adam’s brain that short-circuited.

“Kris,” Adam says—packing more than Kris would’ve thought possible into a name. He takes Kris’ chin in his hand carefully—like Kris is made out of glass—and tilts his face up. Kris has nowhere to look but into Adam’s eyes; they are wide-open and shine a brilliant blue under the harsh fluorescent lights. “May I?”

Kris blinks repeatedly, as if that would help clear his mind.

Adam stepped into the elevator. Again. To kiss Kris. Again. And he’s asking nicely now, as if he wasn’t the one who grabbed Kris and landed one on him just five minutes ago.

“You calm me down,” Adam says when Kris doesn’t answer.

“What?”

“You’re the thought that calms me down, not the stupid waves.”

Okay, Kris thinks, but his voice refuses to cooperate.

“But you also drive me mad,” Adam continues. “You—you make me want—”

Taking in the look in Adam’s eyes, the nervous set of his mouth, the clenched fists, Kris thinks, yes. Adam makes him want, too. He smiles, letting relief wash over him. Adam has been making him want for some time now—for almost a year, actually, but who’s counting?

Adam’s responding grin is breathtaking.

“May I?” Kris asks, letting one of his hands caress Adam’s cheek and make its way up into Adam’s hair. It’s getting longer, he thinks, carding his fingers through the locks of thick, black hair. They’ll have to do something about that.

Adam nods.

Kris pushes himself up on his toes to meet Adam’s lips. The kiss does nothing at all to calm them down.

Kris Allen is magical

jerakeen.c@gmail.com — Wed, 18 Nov 2009 08:52:40 GMT

My Kris Allen CD arrived yesterday. They beamed it down from the mothership or something. Amazon is trying to give me a heart attack.

loud (you were always good at putting words together) by holycitygirl (via ggjunkie33)
AI8 | Kris/Adam | R | Future Fic | 1,686 words
Adam is dreaming. Or the devil is getting in some serious ice skating time. Or he woke up in Bizarro world.

Virtue and Vice by holycitygirl (via ggjunkie33)
AI8 | Kris/Adam | R | Future Fic | 2,420 words
Kris laughs -actually laughs like it was yesterday, instead of this today where they are thousands of miles apart and breaking up when they were never even together.

Don't leave me here [to let you down] by holycitygirl (via ggjunkie33)
AI8 | Kris/Adam | R | H/C | Grey's Anatomy X-over | 2,683 words
She offers to go with him, but right now all Adam can do to keep the total fear at bay is keep his mouth shut. If he has to interact with someone who knows him he might just lose his shit completely.

Truth Above All by lolitaray
AI8 | Kris/Adam | PG | Tour Fic | 4,000 words
Kris never expects anything to happen, but when it does? It happens in New York.

Of Sentinels and Anchors by corpus_invictus
Star Trek | Kirk/Spock | R | AU | 12,900 words
AU: Spock was raised on Earth with no Vulcan influence in his life.

fundamental things by keelywolfe
Star Trek | Kirk/Spock | NC-17 | 1,600 words
A kiss is just a kiss...

A Complete Education, or: How Spock Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Sex by lesyeuxverts00
Star Trek | Kirk/Spock | NC-17 | 4,400 words
Spock is beginning to admit that the human way of doing things is the more logical one. In this singular instance. It is surely not a widespread pattern.

Terminal Point by posyvanilla {doesn't make a lot of sense, but ohmygod so much pining and hurt/comfort}
Star Trek | Kirk/Spock | R | 28,500 words
On a routine diplomatic mission, Spock is captured, and the Enterprise's search for him meets a dead end. Kirk, however, is determined to find him, no matter how long it takes or how far he has to go.

Don't Bring Me Flowers by butterfly {butterfly! jealousy! het sex!}
Star Trek | Kirk/Spock | NC-17 | AU | Gender Switch | 6,500 words
Jen Kirk is being courted and, for reasons that are perfectly logical, Spock objects.

Potential, In Retrospect by hitlikehammers
Star Trek | Kirk/Spock | PG-13 | 4,742 words
Prompt: Kirk/Spock, major h/c at the end: Kirk had to be expecting that Spock would be leaving the Enterprise, so what if Spock either stumbled across him accidentally, or went to his quarters after talking with Spock Prime, only to discover *how much* the idea of Spock leaving hurts Kirk. Vulnerable!Kirk needing comfort from Spock.

Improbability by jaylee_g {so damn funny}
Star Trek | Kirk/Spock | R | 3,300 words
"Christ but the Vulcan needed to relax. It would also be nice if he stopped looking at Jim as if he were a puzzle needing to be solved. Jim felt he was pretty transparent..."

Brilliance, or the Necessity of Precision by NayNymic {guilty pleasure fic, kind of ridiculous}
Star Trek | Kirk/Spock | G | 8,260 words
Kirk and Spock are in a relationship, only Kirk doesn't know it, even if everyone else does. What happens when someone informs him? And will it be too late?

The cop au chat log

jerakeen.c@gmail.com — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 19:42:19 GMT

I found my gtalk chat logs and been looking through them for almost an hour now. They are stupidhilariousawesome. I have so much fic talk/panic there--it's amazing how much of the work in progress angst you forget after you're done with a fic.

Anyway. While reading the July 7th log, I remembered something I talked to justfriending about. She said the cop au felt off in places, the character motivations weren't clear, and I tried to tell her how much worse that story actually was at first and how shelbecat made me change and rearrange the whole thing. It did not make ANY sense before she got her hands on it.

She made me get rid of an ambush kiss, take off some of the soup, add the truffles, then she made me completely rewrite the ending so the guys don't traumatize the kid... I think maybe I should've given her co-author credit for that one?

Beware. Lots of stupidity after the cut.

jerakeen: you there?
shelbecat: yep
jerakeen: i couldn't finish it! *cries*
shelbecat: you will!!!
jerakeen: Short! It was supposed to be short and quick and easy. Now I started thinking. I shouldn't be thinking. If there was going to be thinking, I should have worked on the BFF fic instead.
shelbecat: is that one done and posted? I forget!
jerakeen: Don't be mean to me.
shelbecat: wait now - you wrote creme brulee
jerakeen: I'm having a crisis here.
shelbecat: then bff
then - what is the other one besides the cop one???
I'm all confused!
jerakeen: you can't forget the blowjob fic
shelbecat: OH!
blow job!!!
jerakeen: okay, no, seriously, since I'm already thinking. What needs fixing?
shelbecat: well...you need a way to make them have hot sex at the end and leave it open to more possibilities?
you could take out the chicken soup part (although I did like it)
but it kind of moves the story to a "relationship" type of feel
jerakeen: I have the ending. Not written, but I have it figured out. But does the story actually work? It's bound to be odd, it's like a scene from a novel.
shelbecat: well if you have it figured out - what are you asking me for!
what is the ending
I need full disclosure
jerakeen: No no. I have the ending. That doesn't mean I have the beginning or the middle.
shelbecat: believe me - if you want a short story, you already have a beginning and a middle
you just can't stop yourself!
jerakeen: I was checking to see if I have enough of the ending to send you but no luck
It's all up in the air
Basically it's two more scenes. Well, three kind of.
shelbecat: k
jerakeen: Kris thinks about going to the club, but decides against it because his life and Adam's life just don't seem compatible.
shelbecat: okay - stop for a second - do you want them to be in love, or just have sex
jerakeen: I'm trying to end it at a point where they like each other and decide dating. Kris doesn't think Adam is dating material at that point.
shelbecat: why?
does he know much about him
I mean - there is the club bit, I know
jerakeen: Okay, hold on. Read this.
shelbecat: I know I'm making you think hard - but I'm trying to get inside your head :)
jerakeen: No, this is good. I need this.
Kris has been thinking. He has been thinking non-stop, in between all the case stuff in his head, before and after he visits Sam, while he talks to Katy, he’s been thinking about Adam and how it wouldn’t work.

There are ways in which maybe it could work, but then Kris doesn’t really know Adam. Would Adam even want it to work? He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to make allowances in his life for other people and their baggage. Kris has a lot of baggage. His job is a problem even in the most ideal relationship, and a five year old son is not something people want coming along with a boyfriend. There’s the ex-wife thing; Kris is not willing to alienate Katy for anyone, and that has caused problems in the past. Even if Kris accepts the gay thing, and the club thing, and the blue hair and make up thing, there’s still no guarantee that Adam will want this to be something anyway.

He is probably making something out of nothing, Kris decides, and makes sure not to go anywhere near Adam’s club. It’s the best for all involved.
shelbecat: this is after the first kiss, or after the soup?
jerakeen: after the sex
right after the part i sent you
shelbecat: k
thinking...
okay - maybe you need a shake up or something - I know this is getting longer
but Adam seems like he is completely head over heels in love with him'
he brought him flowers, he cooked him soup
all because Kris saved his life
maybe Kris needs to tell him that it's not a big deal, he's done it for "tons" of people before
jerakeen: okay
shelbecat: or have Adam overhear Kris talking to Charlie - your friend is stalking me now - totally joking
I don't know
something to make Adam be turned off
because otherwise Kris wondering if Adam wants it doesn't work (because I think Adam clearly wants it)
jerakeen: That wasn't what I was going for. This is actually kind of like the blowjob fic. When I scrapped this, and started that one, I used some of the ideas there. Pub instead of a club etc. What I was going for was that Adam is kind of flighty, and Kris doesn't take it seriously. He doesn't even consider anything before the sex, except for an invitation for sex, obviously. And afterwards, he thinks Adam wouldn't be the type to date a cop.
Not seriously anyway.
But what I think and what I wrote may not actually be the same thing. :)
shelbecat: then can the soup - lol, I make myself laugh
put the soup part after
jerakeen: I want the soup part. I need to make the soup work.
shelbecat: it will work really well to show Kris that Adam is serious
and in place of the soup part, you can still have Adam bring him a gift
but something totally cheesey and inappropriate
like donuts!
cops love donuts don't they!?!
jerakeen: If I put it after, it will mean obviously Adam is serious. I wanted it to just be confusing. I need Adam to be more confusing.
shelbecat: then later when he brings him flowers it will be totally sweet
but it's okay for him to be serious at the end???
jerakeen: Adam is always serious. He just doesn't look serious.
It's the hair
The thing with the soup is, Adam didn't mean to cook Kris soup. He wasn't there to cook. He was going to give him flowers. But then Kris was sick and falling asleep on his feet, so he put him to bed and made him soup.
shelbecat: okay
jerakeen: And the kiss isn't really that serious in my head, because that's what Adam does to Kris, he ambushes him with kisses. Kris doesn't take it seriously. Why are you taking it seriously? Oh my God, I need to rewrite this whole thing.
shelbecat: you know them better than I do on this situation
LOL!!!!
jerakeen: Seriously. Why am I even writing this?!
shelbecat: I just think that when Kris goes looking for sex, and wondering afterwards if Adam is serious - that a guy that "breaks" into your house, basically, and cooks you soup is already serious
jerakeen: LOL!
shelbecat: I think it is a very unique way for you to have Adam show Kris that he wants in this!
therefore you need to move it
jerakeen: Okay. It might work better without the kiss, but I like the ambush kisses.
shelbecat: no no - ambush kisses are great
it's the soup
jerakeen: Moving the scene makes sense, but it would make too much sense!
shelbecat: WHAT!?!
how is too much sense a bad thing!!
jerakeen: It would make sense! It would be this serious progression. This relationship needs to be unbalanced a bit. Why would I write about a healthy balanced relationship?
It's like you don't even know me.
shelbecat: HA HA HA
oh dear
maybe I'm rubbing off on you?
jerakeen: I'm not killing anyone
yet
shelbecat: ONE TIME!!!
I'll kill Adam
jerakeen: one time too many
shelbecat: you watch
jerakeen: You wouldn't!
shelbecat: lol
probably not
jerakeen: So. The soup needs to go.
shelbecat: I think a guy (Adam) that hated this cop person (who then saved his life!) would yes, suddenly be indebted to him
but not know how to express it
like maybe he tells Kris he can have free drinks at the club, but Kris says "why would I keep coming to your club?" (before the ambush kiss)
or maybe just after - not sure
but I'm trying to make it obvious (TO ME!) that Adam doesn't have a sweet clue what he's doing
it would be confusing to be saved by the person you basically hated
jerakeen: Okay see even when he doesn't have a clue, he would probably act like he knows everything.
shelbecat: true
I like that he is confident and ambushing Kris with the kisses
jerakeen: and he doesn't really have any reason to hate kris. he just hates him for being a cop and being cute. he did admit that towards the end.
shelbecat: maybe you can keep the soup - grrr
jerakeen: I don't know if I want the soup now! I think maybe no ambush kiss with the soup.
shelbecat: so they kiss the morning after the gunshots
then during the soup-fest
right?
jerakeen: yup
shelbecat: if they kiss after the gunshot,.....
I'm thinking
kris doesn't go back to the club, because he is too busy and sick, so Adam comes to him, right?
jerakeen: at that point kris doesn't even consider going back to the club. the kiss is not really a real kiss. it's adam kissing kris as thank you.
shelbecat: okay
so what is the ending after the sex?
jerakeen: i just realized you don't have the whole sex part. So there's that. And then the kris thinks about adam part i just sent you. and then there's the ending: adam comes to kris' apartment again, going all are you done freaking out. and then they talk, adam ties kris up a little bit to stop him talking nonsense. and then they have sex. the last scene is with adam and sam meeting and kris finally deciding that maybe it would work. it makes no sense when i write it like this.
shelbecat: it does make sense
I am very good at reading "brain matter"
jerakeen: :)
shelbecat: okay - so Kris freaks out after the sex on the office?
jerakeen: here
There’s heat and friction and the feeling of his insides being pulled in a way that doesn’t hurt, but is not exactly fun either. It’s a teasing feeling, but comes with a promise. And Adam makes good on the promise, though he never voiced it himself; he surrounds Kris with his body, with his breath and sweat, and he makes Kris growl and moan and almost cry. By the time he lets Kris come, Kris has began making the mewing sound again, and he can’t feel his arms anymore.

Adam is half dressed when he pulls Kris’ jeans up for him and makes him let go of the hook, and he has to literally pry Kris’ fingers open to get him free. Kris groans and leans against the door to stay upright, but then Adam opens his arms and envelopes him in a hug, and Kris finds himself rolling into it gratefully, because Adam has the most huggable body he has ever seen. He is solid and comfortable and large enough for Kris to bury himself in.

Adam pulls away a little after a while and looks Kris in the eye, thankfully not asking if he’s okay or not. Kris feels pathetic enough already. His hands frame Kris’ face, warm palms covering almost half of it, and he kisses Kris soft and mellow. Kris feels relaxed and sleepy, all tension gone from his body, and he thinks he can sleep through the night now, not thinking anything but Adam’s lips. (And possibly other parts of Adam which he will not be admitting even in his thoughts.)

“I should go,” he says, resting his forehead on Adam’s cheek.

Adam’s hand tightens and he opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it without making a sound.

“Okay,” he says after a while, nodding and pulling back.

Kris feels cold and out of sorts. He finds his shirt and puts it on, crumpled beyond recognition, and buttons it up best as he can with the handful of buttons he has left. Then he steps out of the room without looking up at Adam and leaves the club.
shelbecat: okay - Adam wouldn't go to him after this unless he's mad!
jerakeen: i dont even know
shelbecat: I would like to see "something" more to drive Kris into Adam's arms.......
maybe more gay-club violence of some sort
jerakeen: hmm
shelbecat: oh! what if Kris can't bring himself to go back to the club but the violence continues?
you just sort of wrote it off as gang-related in one line, so you could bring it back easy enough
jerakeen: that means more scenes! it's long enough!
shelbecat: LOL!
okay, okay!
I just want you to write for me!
jerakeen: take the soup out, put in more gang violence?
what kind of romance is this
we need more soup
shelbecat: well what if Kris wasn't there to save him the next time (not that Adam would actually get hurt)
just almost
maybe???
MORE SOUP!!!!
well it's not the Cop AU fic anymore - it's officially the Soup fic
jerakeen: kris would probably die and i would write 20,000 words of hurt/comfort
shelbecat: oh dear - I should stop while I'm ahead
I have to go
jerakeen: okay
leave me with the soup
shelbecat: I'll read it again.
love you!
jerakeen: bye!

The Ghost Fic I'm Not Writing (Amas Veritas)

jerakeen.c@gmail.com — Mon, 16 Nov 2009 21:47:00 GMT

For all of you asking for more of this! I’m not writing it! But here’s how it goes!

This story was inspired by the movie Practical Magic. I call it the ghost fic, but it's actually about witches and spells, and there are no (real) ghosts in it.

It all starts with a woman scorned.

She is not a witch in the truest sense of the word; she is simply creative. It doesn’t require a lot of knowledge or power, just some inspiration from the old and frayed pages of a book, and some luck… with maybe a little push from Fate. After all, it’s not only the good things that are meant to be; the bad also has to happen for the Design to work.

Basically, Adam pisses off a witch. She falls in love with him and thinks he loves her back. And when she finds out that he never did...well, as you can see, she gets creative.

The curse binds Adam to the house, where his body is hidden. He's not dead, but he's not exactly alive either. It's a complicated one, because she wants to make sure he won't get to break it, ever, and he'll stay in that house, alone, for a long, long time.

She throws everything she finds in the made-up curse, not sure if it will work, but not caring either way. If she ends up poisoning him, she’ll be heartbroken, but only because he won’t get to suffer as he deserves.

The curse has conditions, because that's how magic works. It traps Adam's soul out of his body, leaves him unable to leave the house and takes away all his good memories.

It’s not forever—nothing is forever with these spells. They require balance. They have clauses and conditions; it’s always if, and unless, and until, but she doubts he will ever actually be loved by a woman, so she is not terribly worried about it.

And for it to break, he needs to be loved by someone unconditionally. But since our witch is creative, she makes it even harder. The existence of the love is not enough by itself; it requires witnesses. The number of the witnesses is determined by the number of sand grains she puts in the potion--and of course, she doesn't hold back.

“How many was that, do you think?” she asks his drugged body mockingly. “Thousands? Millions?”

She laughs and drops another handful of sand into the potion.

He will never get out of that house.

So Adam wakes up, doesn't know what the hell happened, assumes that he's dead, and haunts the house like a good little ghost. Until Kris and Vicky show up. You know what happens after that.

Kris' story is more obvious I suppose.

Kris has always hated any kind of lesson that is not related to music. He now knows that definition also includes life lessons. He had always thought he knew a lot about life, having seen poverty and death all around the world. He had thought he was wise beyond his years. But seeing things and having them happen to you are two very different things as he now knows. Seeing people starve doesn’t really teach you about poverty. You have to go hungry for two days to know what it really means.

The most important life lesson Kris learned, the one that is the basis for all other lessons, is that life doesn’t care about his plans.

Kris was going to be an artist. He was going to sing. And he was well on his way to accomplish that. He had sold a couple of songs; one of them even became a hit. It was only a matter of time before he got someone to sign him on and start working on his own album.

Kris was also going to have a family. Katy was pregnant and they were really excited about it. They made plans to move to LA and maybe Katy could try her hand at acting once the baby was old enough.

Kris had a whole life ahead of him. The perfect life.

But then Katy died giving birth to Vicky and all his plans, built on and with and around Katy, crumbled into the ground. Kris didn’t know what to do with himself.

Holding his daughter in his arms, small and perfect and so completely helpless, Kris realized nothing he ever knew or hoped for or planned meant anything now. He had to start over, and do it all alone this time.

He and Vicky stay at his parents’ for a while, but after he gets over the depression, he decides to move. Start over. Find a way to stand on his own two feet and take care of his daughter on his own. That's why they move to the house. And then they meet Adam.

After the part you guys read, Kris and Adam start to become friends. Adam takes over babysitting duties, Kris starts writing songs again. They make a very odd, but cute family.

Then one day, Vicky accidentally breaks a part of the curse (it's complicated, but it's about her loving Adam and crying all over him) and Adam starts seeing himself again. It's very exciting for Adam, because he hasn't seen himself in CENTURIES! HIS HAIR! HIS FACE! He's all flaily and happy, but it gets Kris thinking--how would that happen if Adam was a ghost?

Kris tries to find out who Adam is. He goes to the local library to research the history of the house, but he doesn't find anything. When he's just about to give up, he finds the spell book in the basement. (Where Adam's body is also hidden! Creepy!) At first, they think they can maybe break the spell, but the more they look through it, they realize it's just a huge jumbled mess. The witch didn't leave specific instructions on how to break it, and she didn't stick to just one spell. Adam gives up on it, but Kris refuses to accept defeat. Because, obviously, he’s fallen in love with Adam.

Weeks pass without a solution and Adam starts getting worried for Kris. He gets offers for the new songs he’s been writing, but he ignores them. He ignores Adam, too, when Adam tries to tell him that he needs to snap out of it. In the end, Adam decides he loves Kris and Vicky too much to condemn them to a life in a haunted house in the middle of nowhere. So he decides to sacrifice himself to help them move on. He tells Kris to leave, that he doesn’t want them in his house anymore, (and somehow makes it believable, I honestly have no idea how) and then disappears.

(Yes, I know. It’s like every cheesy love story ever. Did you really expect something else from me?)

6 months later, Adam is alone in the house, sitting in front of the window, sipping his tea from his stupid fancy china cup, when he feels his body start to tingle. Before he knows what’s happening, the cup hits the floor and shatters, and Adam finds himself back in his body, stuck in a hidden room in the basement.

Kris, at that same moment, is singing a song he wrote for Adam live on TV for the very first time, declaring his love for him to millions.

Epilogue!

Kris answers the door with Vicky in his arms to find Adam standing on the other side. Adam is wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, so different from his usual fancy clothes; he has bruises under his eyes and his knuckles are scraped and bloody. He looks real.

Kris stands there staring at him stupidly, unable to utter a word, but then Vicky says, “Da-da!” and tries to jump into Adam’s arms. Kris leans forward to follow her and Adam tries to catch her, and they end up in a big and messy group hug. And then Vicky has two daddies and they all live happily ever after. (And the guys have a lot of sex.)

Comment fic

jerakeen.c@gmail.com — Mon, 16 Nov 2009 17:42:44 GMT

It got out of hand again. (Don't say of course it did! At least pretend to believe in my ability to write drabbles!)

WIP Dump, Part 2

jerakeen.c@gmail.com — Mon, 16 Nov 2009 08:45:21 GMT

READ THE WARNINGS IN THE FIRST POST. PLEASE.

More WIPs...

The Nail Polish Fic

They were still just friends when the nail polish thing started.

Adam never had a best friend when he was a teenager, so he figures no one can blame him for doing now the juvenile things most people do when they are thirteen.

It was a way of claiming Kris for himself—even as friends, he felt the need to stake his claim. It was a bit like wearing matching BFF bracelets or a heart locket in two pieces—only less lame. (At least that’s what he told himself.)

He couldn’t help it, because his heart grew three fucking sizes every time Kris touched him in front of the cameras, deliberate and supportive, and Adam kept finding himself asking for more of it. They were supposed to be competing against one another, but that was never what they were about. People thought Kris wasn’t capable of being against anyone or anything, but they were wrong about that. He just never wanted to be against Adam.

It was ridiculous, of course. It was a competition, after all, but if they were allowed to call it a draw, Adam thinks in the end they both would have gone for it.

“A part of me with you, and a part of you with me,” Adam told him, putting their thumbs next to each other.

Kris gave him a surprised smile.

“You’re amazing, you know that?”

Adam almost blushed—he didn’t, but it was a close thing. “Of course I know,” he told Kris dismissively.

Adam’s idea was not the most original, and it was perhaps inappropriately romantic for two guys who were just friends, but somehow, during the months they spent together, the mansion and the studio and each other had become their comfort zone, and home had turned into something completely alien, so Adam was glad to have had a small part of Kris with him while he was there.

It had actually helped.

Adam takes full credit for that idea. It’s one he is proud of. What it evolved into afterwards, though, is all Kris.

-

The tour is a blur. Kris is with him all the time, but that’s a form of torture now. He is allowed to touch, but not until they are alone. He is allowed to look, but not too obviously if others are around. The problem with that is they are living in other people’s pockets and they are never alone.

And Adam thought at first that that would be okay. He knows he has Kris now, so he has no reason to angst over it. They’ll get to be together soon enough. Maybe they can even go on a vacation after this, enjoy each other for a whole week with no interruptions. What he didn’t take into account is the stress and the tiredness and the homicidal tendencies that come arm in arm with psychopathy in the face of all the craziness this new life brings.

He thought the pressure would be off now that the competition was over, but once they got out of the protective shell of it, the pressure actually started to rise. He wants things to be perfect, he doesn’t want to screw up his chance, but sometimes it feels like the whole world is against him, and it’s nothing like back in the day, when his whole world was a hundred people at best. Now it’s literally the whole world that’s watching and judging and loving him to the point of killing him and then turning around to hate him just as much.

Now he understands why celebrities turn to drugs. Anything to numb that feeling would be welcome.

He is lucky to have Kris, even though it doesn’t feel like he really has him at this point. Kris not only understands and shares his problems, but he also cares and makes it better.

One night, after he almost punches a girl who grabs his arm at the barricades and won’t let go, Kris pulls him into a bathroom and hugs him for half an hour straight. Adam’s muscles unclench one by one with every passing minute and by the time they need to leave, he is feeling as relaxed as he has ever felt.

“What we need is a bat signal,” Kris tells him later.

Adam thinks about it. It’s not really a bad idea.

-

It’s the next hotel night when Kris strolls into his room, and tackles him into the bed with a tight hug, not saying a word and not letting him go.

“Bad day?” Adam asks softly after a while, petting his hair.

“Terrible day,” Kris corrects him with a whisper. He pulls back with a tired sigh and shows Adam the nail of his thumb. It’s painted black.

“Bat signal,” Kris clarifies.

Adam smiles wide and gives him a long, luxurious kiss.

The Hurt!Adam Fic

Afterward, Kris realizes how stupid it is to expect everything to wait for him while he sorts out his life. But at the time, it makes sense.

-

His divorce isn’t Adam’s fault. It is no one’s fault really.

They give it their all, he and Katy, but having their lives change so severely in a matter of months is not the best way to start a marriage. They are too young to settle down, and when it comes down to it, they don’t even want to. They just think—quite naively—that they can move on and change together. It doesn’t take them long to realize that there is no way for two people to change together. They inevitably evolve in different directions.

But it’s not an easy thing to separate two intertwined lives. Even after they admit that it’s over, it’s hard to let go. Being together is much easier than being apart. It almost physically hurts to divide the life they built in two.

Kris doesn’t talk to Adam much during that time. He doesn’t want the distraction. He decides that he will give his marriage a fair chance when he realizes they are on shaky ground, and with Adam in the picture, nothing is ever fair. So Kris doesn’t call him, or keep track of him; he lets go, deliberately.

If he’d known how hard it would be to reconnect, he never would have done that in the first place.

But as accurate as it is, hindsight is never very helpful.

-

He and Katy have split all their belongings and Kris now has his own apartment. It’s not better than living with Katy, but it feels like a new beginning, smells fresh and full of possibilities. He is busy with work, still in demand even though the nation now has a brand new American Idol to fawn over, and he is starting to think about a new album. He is running out of reasons to not call Adam, but it’s not until he talks to Allison that he actually does something about it.

“Have you talked to Adam lately?”

Kris’ leaps a little at the name. It’s ridiculous how sensitive he becomes to everything about Adam the more he stays away from him.

“Not really. Why?”

“I don’t know, man. He is all weird.”

“Weird how?” Kris asks. Adam is always weird.

“Just weird. I don’t know. He is all touchy and shit. Something is wrong.”

Kris runs the conversation over in his mind all night. It could be nothing. Allison could be exaggerating. But it could also be something. And Kris certainly doesn’t have a good enough reason to ignore this when he could just pick up the phone and call Adam.

So he calls him the day after. It takes him a dozen tries to stop his fingers from shaking and making him scroll past the name in the contact list, but he manages. When he finally hits the call button and puts the phone to his ear, an out of service message greets him.

Adam is apparently not that easy to reach. Kris feels oddly hurt that Adam didn’t think to give him his new number, but what did he expect really, after ignoring the man for so long? For all he knows Adam didn’t even think about him once during all those months. Just because his thoughts kept drifting to Adam doesn’t mean it was reciprocated.

It takes him a while to track Adam down. When he finally has a number in his hands, he can’t make himself dial it. Instead, he gathers his courage and gives his driver the address that came with the number. Then he sits back and wipes his sweaty palms on his thighs. There, that’s better; it’s all out of his hands now.

It’s a house in Beverly Hills, very super star, and all the security makes Kris think for a minute that he came to the wrong place. Dogs and guards and electronic alarms; it seems a bit too much if you ask him. He may not be as big as Mr. Hot Shot here, but Kris does okay with just one bodyguard himself.

A blonde woman greets him at the door, calling him Mr. Allen and offering him refreshments. Kris shakes his head, feeling like he’s fallen down the rabbit hole. He asks for Adam, but the woman shakes her head and looks at her watch.

“Ah. Actually, he should be here any minute.”

Kris didn’t exactly expect life to stand still while he was busy. But the truth is, he was laying down the groundwork for something he didn’t even really know for certain was a possibility. He and Adam never came out and talked about it. They couldn’t have. They both had their own commitments to consider first. And when things started to get out of hand, they took a step back from each other, because that was the only thing they could do.

They always had a way of understanding each other without either of them needing to spell things out, but maybe that step back was a permanent one for Adam. He should have considered that before he got his hopes up.

He is a nervous wreck when Adam finally shows up, but all tension leaves his body at the sight of his friend. Even if it’s nothing more than friendship, they need to reconnect. Kris needs Adam in his life; it was stupid to even consider the opposite. Adam has always been the easiest friend to talk to; the best and the most amazing man Kris has ever met. Kris can deal with it, if this doesn’t amount to anything. It would be a mistake to not accept whatever Adam offers.

“Kris Allen! You’re alive!” Adam says with a huge smile on his face.

Kris smiles back and takes a couple steps toward him.

Adam holds his hands up to tell him to stop. “I’m disgustingly sweaty,” he says, pointing at his clothes. He is wearing an all black ensemble. He looks a bit like a ninja.

“What’s with all that?” Kris asks, curious.

“Kickboxing,” Adam says with a shrug.

Kris raises an eyebrow at him. Adam and strenuous activity of any kind just do not go together in his head. “Kickboxing?”

“Yeah,” Adam says with a shrug, as if it’s the most natural thing for him to do.

“Who are you and what the hell have you done to Adam Lambert?”

-

They eat lunch together and catch up. Adam asks about his divorce, about Katy and his family and shares very little in return. If it wasn’t for Allison’s call, Kris may not have noticed these little details, he may have thought of them as normal since they spent such a long time apart, but things keep bothering him. The way Adam glosses over his boyfriends and the break ups Kris has heard about, the way he laughs it off when Kris asks what’s the deal with the million bodyguards, the way he just doesn’t talk about himself period.

Adam is twitchy and he has never been twitchy in Kris’ presence before. It makes Kris stumble over his words.

Kris gets up to leave after lunch, and Adam doesn’t invite him to stay. He tries not to feel hurt, tries to approach this whole thing objectively, as if he is doing an investigation, because maybe he is deluding himself, but Adam doesn’t seem normal to him at all. It’s not just because he doesn’t seem too crazy about Kris, something about him is just off. Kris vows to find out the reason.

Adam stands back as Kris leaves, just out of his touch. Kris doesn’t move to hug him.

-

Kris is nothing if not stubborn. He clears his schedule to deal with his Adam problem as he calls it. He starts visiting Adam daily, ignoring the fact that he is in fact very much unwelcome. Adam is too kind to throw him out—or maybe Kris is still special for him in some way—and Kris makes good use of that.

It takes him three weeks to wear Adam down. He feels the walls between them begin to crumble one night when he shows up at Adam’s door unannounced, holding a DVD and take out from Adam’s favorite sushi place. He sees something in Adam’s eyes change and give way, and suddenly it’s easier to breathe.

Adam is still not overjoyed, but Kris will take resigned to his fate over barely tolerating his presence any day.

Kris brought an action flick, because one of his favorite memories of Adam is of the night they had a Die Hard marathon and fell asleep tangled on the couch. Kris can recall in perfect detail how Adam had looked asleep against his chest, drooling slightly, and how Kris had realized that this thing he was feeling was not just a close friendship and it was not going away. Looking over now at the sleepy face and the tuft of messy black hair at the other end of the couch, Kris thinks he desperately wants this feeling to stay. Back then he had thought his marriage was the biggest thing that stood in the way and maybe that was a very self-centered way of looking at things, but Kris thinks things should work out between them now. He is ready and waiting, and after all this time, he is kind of impatient.

The credits roll and Kris sits up with a sigh, putting the bowl of popcorn in his lap on the floor. He looks over at Adam to find him softly snoring, hands tucked under his cheek, bare feet trying to hide between the couch cushions. He walks over and perches on the edge of the couch to shake him awake, but Adam doesn’t blink open his eyes and smile at him; instead he gasps at Kris’ touch and throws a punch with unexpectedly good aim. Having been caught completely off guard, Kris goes down.

-

Adam is hysterical afterwards. He keeps apologizing and flailing around, offers to take him to the hospital even, at which point Kris tells him not to flatter himself. He’ll have a bruise, sure, but Adam is no Rambo.

Kris finally manages to calm Adam down by getting him to do something useful, making them coffee, as Kris sits down at the kitchen table, holding a bag of frozen peas to his cheek.

Adam takes the chair across from him, sliding a cup of coffee to Kris with shaking hands, and has a quiet meltdown where he sits. Kris watches him place a hand over his mouth; Adam looks very much like he is holding back tears. They sit in silence for a couple of minutes, but when it seems like Adam isn’t going to be talking any time soon, Kris decides to take matters into his own hands.

“So, kickboxing, huh?” Kris says, trying to bring a little humor into the situation.

Adam’s eyes grow huge. “I’m so sorry.”

Kris waves the hand that’s not holding the peas at Adam. “Don’t worry about it. You were asleep.”

“That doesn’t… I mean…” Adam takes in a shaky breath. “There is no excuse,” he says finally.

They sip at their coffees quietly, Adam’s head hanging low in shame.

“You know,” Kris says, studying Adam’s face, “kickboxing or no kickboxing, people don’t just grow reflexes like that out of nowhere.”

Adam flinches and carefully avoids his gaze. He doesn’t reply the unasked question.

“You don’t want to tell me. Fine. Just… I know I’ve been gone, but I’m here now. Okay?”

Adam nods without meeting his eyes.

“Okay,” Kris says, deciding not to push it. “Now get me another bag, because these peas have gone all soggy.”

-

Kris has always paid attention to Adam, and now he does even more so. Adam isn’t different exactly, but he is like a muted version of himself. He doesn’t go out a lot and doesn’t get a lot of visitors, and even with only Kris there, he is usually walking on eggshells.

Kris tries to keep down the panic inside him that keeps whispering urgently that something is very, very wrong with Adam, and that he is doing the wrong thing by letting them pretend everything is fine. Kris is all for not pretending; he would love to stop the charade and drop the act, but he has a feeling that Adam will freak out if he does, and keeping what little part of Adam he gets to have right now seems like the most important thing to him.

But Kris has always been emotional and impulsive. He should have known that his impulses would interfere at some point.

One night Kris drops by around 11:00 PM, because Adam never sleeps before midnight and Kris is trying to wear him down to the point that he’ll have to ask Kris to move in with him, or at least offer him a key, and almost gets run over by a car skidding out of the driveway. A young man is in the driver’s seat and he looks angry.

Kris walks up to the house with trepidation. He founds Adam in the living room, sitting on the couch, shirtless and wearing a pair of very tight leather pants, his face buried in his hands.

“You okay?” Kris asks quietly, not wanting to startle Adam in case he goes for a kick this time.

Adam raises his head to look up at him. His face is blotchy and his eyeliner is running down his cheeks. He’s been crying. “I’m okay,” he says, sniffling and blinking away the moisture in his eyes. A couple more tears fall down.

“What the hell did that guy do?” Kris grits his teeth, holding back the scream that’s trying to tear its way out of his lungs. He has enough trouble with the idea of other guys touching Adam, one of them hurting him is just unacceptable.

Adam looks up at him for a second, seeming surprised by his anger, but then shakes his head and grabs a couple of tissues from the coffee table to wipe his face with. “Nothing,” he says, shaking his head. “He didn’t do anything.”

Kris takes a couple more steps towards him. “Adam, did he hurt you?”

He doesn’t understand. He feels stupid, even. He has been confused for weeks now. None of this makes any sense to him, and Kris has a feeling that as long as Adam keeps his mouth shut, none of it ever will.

Adam chuckles, his face crumpling all over again. “He didn’t do anything. I’m just. Fucked up.”

Kris drops himself down on the other end of the couch, feeling spent just from trying to keep his hands to himself. He wants to go to Adam, hold him tight and make him talk. Then he wants to make it all better, whatever it is that’s wrong, because this isn’t the way things are supposed to be.

Adam has his head leaned back when Kris next looks at him. His breathing is slow and deep and even, like he is trying to calm himself down. Kris watches the way his chest rises and falls, follows the trail of his freckles. He had thought he’d get to touch them once he put his life in order. He honestly thought Adam would welcome him with open arms. When will he ever learn that life doesn’t care about his plans?

Adam turns his head to him, probably sensing his gaze, and says, “You should go home. I don’t feel up to hanging out tonight.”

The dismissive tone pisses Kris off even more. He is not just some guy Adam can send away with no explanation. He is looming over Adam before he even knows he got up.

“I am not going home! Not before you tell me what the hell this is!”

Adam stares at him, his eyes ice cold. “Stop yelling at me.”

Kris didn’t realize he had raised his voice. He makes himself calm down and unclench his fists. He sits back down next to Adam on the couch. “I’m sorry,” he says, turning to face him. “I’m not…”

His hand reaches up to touch Adam’s face, but Adam flinches back. Something inside Kris breaks and starts wailing like a child. “Just tell me,” he pleads, reaching again and touching Adam’s face, cupping his cheek in his hand. “Tell me what’s wrong. Please.”

Adam looks like a deer caught in headlights, eyes huge and shocked.

“What am I doing wrong?” Kris asks, pleading. He is out of ideas. If Adam doesn’t help him out, he has no idea what to do next.

Adam shakes his head. “You’re not… I’m just really fucked up,” he says, offering him a shaky smile.

The (Other) Jealous!Adam Fic

“You’re going to the rehearsal? Can I come?”

It’s the puppy dog eyes of doom, accompanied by the invisible wagging tail. Kris has abandoned his guitar in his excitement, and his fingers start picking at the frayed knees of his jeans unconsciously. Adam can’t possibly say no to him, he never really could. From the day Kris first knocked on his door two months ago with a sheepish smile on his face, asking him about the room he heard Adam was renting out, there was no way to ignore the instinct to make sure that his lips stayed curved up like that, all crooked and happy. Adam was a goner long before he admitted it to himself.

So Adam can do nothing but nod now, watching with resignation as Kris scrambles up to run to his room to change.

When Adam invited Kris along to one of his rehearsals on a whim, he only meant to show him what he did best. Okay, maybe he was also trying to show off a little bit and maybe his intentions were slightly less than honorable, but he still doesn’t think he deserves what he got.

Kris falling for Juliet, when Adam was hoping he’d finally see Romeo in a different light, was just too cruel for words. Frankly, it makes Adam suspect of being a mass murderer in a past life, which is especially disappointing since he’d always thought that he’d been Cleopatra.

-

Watching Kris trying to flirt with Becky is very much like looking at a train wreck—complete with blood and guts and twisted metal and people screaming for help. Becky is not a shark by any means, but she is an actress, and actresses are fame-whores by definition, they like everything big and flashy—Adam doesn’t care how easygoing Becky might appear to be—and Kris is just too low-key for her to ever bother with.

Honestly, Adam doesn’t know why he goes for Kris himself. Kris is small town—Conway, Arkansas, to be exact—and he has exactly one hobby aside from hanging out with his friends—of which he has none in this city anyway—and that’s music. Kris is perfectly happy to sit down and play all day. Some days he forgets where he is and who he is with and just closes his eyes and serenades Adam in the living room. He is a natural performer; his passion is written all over his face and body when he sings, and it causes Adam to flee the room more often than not.

Adam is pretty sure his own reaction to Kris would have been something like Becky’s too under normal circumstances. He would’ve thought cute guy, spared him a smile maybe, and moved on. But life threw them together to share a living space and Adam got to know Kris. He saw Kris in his too big lavender pajamas which used to be blue until Kris washed them with a red shirt, he saw him sleepy and snuggling a blanket on the couch, he saw his face when he talked to his mother. Granted, he also saw Kris almost burn down the apartment in his attempts to cook and he had to get used to waking up at the crack of dawn to Kris clattering in the kitchen, but Adam found out that the cuteness and the honesty and the overwhelming hotness overcome the annoyance factor any day.

Adam has nothing against Becky, she is a pretty girl and a good enough actress, but he didn’t think she was star material when he first saw her and he certainly doesn’t think she is worthy of Kris right now. Actually no. Adam doesn’t even care if she is worthy of Kris; he just doesn’t want her to have him, period. Even though he hates the way Kris’ face falls every time Becky looks through him, Adam is just not a good enough person to wish for the opposite.

(Adam has a feeling that if push came to shove, he would probably stoop so low as sabotaging the whole thing. He would’ve liked to think himself above that kind of pettiness, but apparently not when it comes to Kris.)

Adam blames Kris’ face for a lot of things.

Kris has this face that’s hard to describe. Everything he feels is written on it all the damn time. Adam wants to say he is child-like in that respect, but he’s also hot as hell, so that’s a disturbing thought.

It gets overwhelming for Adam, seeing every hurt and embarrassment displayed so plainly, and actually caring about them, but it’s also kind of comfortable, like they’ve known each other all their lives. This is not something Adam has ever experienced with anyone other than his family before. He is an actor; he knows all about masks—he likes shaping them, using them, observing them, and inevitably, he attracts the type of people that wear masks so often they forget what their real faces look like themselves. The level of openness Kris shows is completely alien to him.

Kris is seated in the front row and since there’s only the rudimentary lighting for the rehearsal, Adam can see him clearly from the stage. He can tell exactly what Kris is feeling right now. He is dejected and wistful and just plain sad. His lower lip is sticking out in a pout and his feet that are normally so restless are limp and lifeless. He is following Becky with his eyes, probably writing lyrics in his head about the shine of her hair or the redness of her lips or something ridiculous like that. Kris is lovesick. Adam hates him with a passion.

Except not really.

Adam can’t possibly hate him, because Kris is perfect. He is not the most beautiful person Adam has ever seen—Adam has met more attractive people, heard more impressive voices, touched softer hair, kissed fuller lips. What sets Kris apart is the fact that he is somehow a better fit to Adam than any of those other people Adam has met before. As unlikely as it seems, he is perfect for Adam.

The fact that Kris doesn’t see that makes Adam question his intelligence though. Adam has to concede that Kris must not be that bright, which is one of the three major flaws Adam has managed to find with him; the other two being his fashion sense and his taste for tiny, blonde women.

Becky called Kris Clark today. That’s what the pout is all about.

They weren’t even talking when she said it. Kris was bouncing around her like an over-eager puppy and she threw him a bone, giving him a smile and saying “Oh, hey, Clark.” Then she stalked off, chattering to Mercutio about some movie she saw over the weekend, leaving a devastated Kris in her wake.

Adam feels bad, he can’t help it. Kris is actually trying for the girl. He is putting an effort into his looks, which he normally doesn’t care about at all. He is wearing a new shirt today, which granted, is still plaid, but at least it’s not one of those red and white checkered ones, the ones that remind Adam of tablecloths, this one is a green-blue color that actually flatters the guy. And he seems to have styled his hair with something other than just water and his fingers. That’s pretty big for Kris.

Adam reads his lines automatically. He is quite bored with this scene to be honest. They’ve been doing the same scene all day; he thinks he can act it out in his sleep now. And he was bored with this play from day one. He never really wanted to be Romeo, and certainly not in a pretentious post-modern version of the original play, but he was broke and he needed the job, so he sucked it up, wore his most straight-looking pair of jeans and gave it his all in the audition.

He is not a naïve seventeen-year-old anymore. He knows that if he has to dumb himself down to their level to get a stupid part in a stupid play, then he is going to do just that. Ideals and dreams are all nice, but someone has to pay the bills.

His thoughts stray to Kris again as they always seem to do nowadays; even the electric bill reminds him of the guy. Kris is supposed to pay half of everything, but Kris, being the impossibly perfect human being that he is, insisted on paying almost all the bills this month. Adam couldn’t exactly object, he is practically working for peanuts right now, and he hasn’t even been paid for this part yet.

Adam doesn’t think he is in love with Kris, but there’s a delicious warmth that spreads over him at the thought of him, and even knowing he is straight and uninterested and unavailable, Adam wouldn’t trade that feeling for anything. It’s not something he likes to linger on, but Adam can’t help but think some days that maybe that’s a different kind of love—one he hasn’t felt before. Maybe he just doesn’t recognize it. The first and last time he was in love, it was fast and furious, there was passion and fire and complete loss of all reason. What he feels for Kris is sweeter than that. It is slow burning and grounded. Sometimes Kris looks at him in a way that makes him think there could be passion there too if they managed to connect on that level, but it’s usually gone before Adam can really put his finger on what’s missing.

Adam has never met anyone more honest and generous and inherently good. And Kris is so comfortable with him, it’s hard not to hope that maybe, just maybe he is bisexual. Because seriously, Adam has had boyfriends in the past that weren’t as comfortable touching him as Kris is. Kris doesn’t think twice about giving him full body hugs in public or snuggling against him on the couch when they are alone. Just last night he almost gave Adam a heart attack, tucking his ridiculously perfect feet under Adam’s thigh and wriggling his toes, claiming he was cold when Adam looked at him in surprise.

Adam is not a saint. He gets ideas. And despite Kris’ crush on Miss Perfect here, those ideas are hard to shake.

<< SOME AWESOME SCENE I DIDN'T WRITE >>

“You were great!” Kris bounces on his feet next to the mirror, watching him wipe off his make-up.

Adam gives him a smirk. “Of course I was.”

Kris is not looking at him though. His eyes are following Becky as she accepts flowers from a group of people, her friends most probably. Adam tries to see if there’s a special one among them—a boyfriend would solve all his problems at this point—but even though there are guys there, Becky doesn’t seem especially close to any of them.

Adam focuses on removing his make-up with a vengeance. He is not going to keep obsessing over this. He has potential boyfriends aplenty and Kris is just a friend. It’s never a good idea to get involved with a roommate anyway. If Kris moves out, Adam will have no way to afford that apartment on his own. Things are better like this.

“So, Lambert, you coming with us to Joey’s?”

“I don’t think so,” Adam says, shaking his head at Stuart.

Stuart makes a face, grabbing a passing actor and placing an arm around him. “Jake is coming, aren’t you, Jake?”

Jake, a young blond boy in his early twenties, stutters. “Um. Sure.”

“Come on, Lambert. Don’t be a killjoy. We’re all going. Bring your friend. The more the merrier.”

Adam looks up at Kris who looks back at him with big, hopeful eyes. He sighs. “Yeah. Whatever.”

-

Joey’s is a small bar that the theater crowd frequents. It’s always a party there after 10:00 PM. Tonight is no exception.

Adam takes a stool at the bar and starts drinking with purpose. He needs to not be sober if he is going to sit there and watch Kris crash and burn and possibly get humiliated by a stupid actress wannabe. Kris takes a seat next to him and orders himself a beer, which Adam knows will go stale before he drinks even half the bottle. He hasn’t seen Kris manage to finish a bottle of beer yet.

Jake, the blond, cute boy, who is apparently crushing on Adam, claims the stool on his other side and tries to chat him up. It’s kind of endearing, seeing the boy flustered and blushing, but Adam is just not into kids like him. Still, it gives him something to do as he avoids interacting with Kris in any way. It’s always a good strategy to ignore someone before they get a chance to ignore you. It’s certainly way better for Adam’s ego.

When the boy takes a break from his awkward flirting to visit the bathroom, Adam takes a peek at Kris, and feels his protective wall crumble at the sight.

Kris looks devastated. He is hugging his half-drunk bottle of beer to his chest and his lower lip is sticking so far out, Adam thinks someone will trip on it. These, Adam could have ignored though; it’s the look in his eyes that does it for him. Kris’ eyes are misty; a set of deep brown pools of defeat.

A look at the dance floor confirms what Adam has gathered. Becky is dancing with a guy, tall and handsome—if you go for the older man type. He is hugging her close and whispering in her ear, and she seems to be completely lost in the dance.

Becky has a boyfriend. Or something close to it anyway.

Adam shoots back the rest of his drink and motions to the bartender for two more.

“You know what you need?” Adam says turning to Kris, and doesn’t wait for an answer before he hands him the shot glass. He waits until Kris follows him and drinks the vodka in one big gulp—making a face, of course, but it’s good enough for Adam.

“You need to have fun,” Adam declares.

The next two hours are spent getting Kris right and truly sloshed.

Adam is used to being drunk. He can handle himself okay until he gets alcohol poisoning. Kris, on the other hand, has no idea what he is doing. Five shots in, he has a beautiful flush running down his neck. Two more and he undoes half the buttons on his shirt. Adam lets him have one more shot and cuts him off there, because as much as he loves this carefree, giggling Kris, he doesn’t want to carry him home.

Kris doesn’t even notice Becky leaving with the guy. He is busy talking to Jake about his first time with a girl, in the backseat of his dad’s car, on a Saturday night. Jake asks him about his first time with a guy, probably joking, because Kris is obviously not interested in guys, but Kris answers with a hearty “Haven’t tried that one yet,” and Adam finds himself sitting up and blinking at him.

He looks away when he realizes that he is staring, but Jake catches it anyway. He smirks at his flustered look and gives him a wink.

Damn kids.

They catch a cab home and Adam has to haul Kris up two flights of stairs, trying to shush him up so they don’t wake the neighbors. Kris isn’t completely out of it, but he is also not exactly cooperative. Apparently he wants to go out and drink some more and talk to that nice kid, what was his name, Jacob?

Adam tells him firmly to shut up and manages to unlock the door on the third try.

-

Adam means to just put Kris to bed and end the night there; it has been long and torturous enough already. But Kris doesn’t let him go. He drinks the water Adam hands him and keeps following him around the apartment, suddenly energized, and doesn’t shut up for a second.

Adam finally loses his already tender grasp on sanity when he turns around to leave the bathroom and runs smack into Kris. He doesn’t decide to do it; his body moves on its own. He pushes Kris up against the wall and covers his body with his. Kris is small against him, fits in all the right places and Adam has to breathe in the mixed scent of sweat and alcohol to believe that he isn’t dreaming; this is really happening.

Which is not exactly a good thing, considering the circumstances.

Adam is not in the mood for considering anything though. Kris is looking up at him, suddenly silent, and Adam finds himself leaning closer to him, close enough to feel his rapid breaths. Kris opens his mouth to say something, but Adam, suddenly panicked that Kris will ask something he can’t answer, interrupts him.

“You need to have some fun,” he says.

Kris’ brow creases in confusion.

Adam lets his hands settle on Kris’ waist, pushing the tails of his shirt up to tease his skin. He holds Kris’ gaze as he goes down on his knees. If he is going to do this, he sure as hell is going to make the most of it.

Kris opens his mouth again, but Adam has his fly undone before he can utter a word. He works a hand in to grab him through his boxers, and all that leaves Kris’ mouth is a drawn out groan. Adam feels like his feet are finally on solid ground again. If there’s one thing he knows, it’s how to give a fucking fantastic blowjob.

Kris’ cock hardens under his hand and Adam feels a surge of power. He can do this for Kris, and he can do it better than any stupid blonde girl. He pulls Kris’ jeans and underwear down in one fell swoop and takes his cock in his hand. It’s perfect, of course it is; the feel of his skin under Adam’s fingers, on his tongue, the taste of him, the sounds he makes, it’s all impossibly perfect. Adam loses himself in the act, giving it all he’s got, and revels in the moans he draws from Kris.

He can have this, he tells himself. Right here, right now, for as long as Kris allows it, he gets to have this. And it will be enough, because there is no other choice.

Kris’ hands flail around, grabbing the jeans pooling around his thighs, hitting the wall behind him. Adam catches them and places them on his head, telling Kris that it’s okay with his eyes. He said he’ll give it his all and he will; he will make this a damn memorable blowjob for Kris.

Kris’ fingers tighten in his hair and Adam has to press a hand to his own cock for a minute, so he won’t come in his pants like a teenager. Kris doesn’t last long, Adam didn’t expect him to. When he comes down his throat, he whispers Adam’s name and Adam thinks the inevitable fallout from this will all be worth it just for that second alone—that voice, that feeling. If he loses Kris’ friendship over this, at least he’ll have the memory of this.

He holds Kris up when he slumps forward and stands up, finding himself face to face with him suddenly, lips impossibly close. It’s incredibly tempting to throw all caution to the wind and taste those lips, but there’s only one excuse he can come up with to defend his behavior tonight, and that’ll be shot to hell if he kisses Kris. Kris looks at him, panting, looking ready to follow him to wherever he chooses to take them, but Adam reminds himself of the way he was looking at Becky earlier and pulls back.

“Come on, off to bed with you,” he says, pulling Kris’ jeans up and leading him towards his room by the hand.

Kris looks…not exactly drunk, but dazed. Adam has to hand him a t-shirt to change into and remind him to take off the jeans. He turns down the covers to make Kris get in the bed. When he tries to leave, Kris grabs his hand.

“What was that?” he asks, slightly slurring.

“A blowjob,” Adam says.

“I know. I mean, what—”

“You said you haven’t tried that yet, I took care of it for you. Thought you could use a little fun.” He shrugs. “Just being friendly.”

Kris looks thoughtful. “Because we are friends,” he says.

“Exactly.”

Adam is glad he is not having this conversation with a sober Kris. It would have been so much harder to convince him that way.

Adam tries to leave again, but Kris doesn’t let go of his hand.

“Stay,” he says, eyes half shut.

It’s a bad idea, a really, really bad idea, but Adam can’t find the will to resist it. He takes off his clothes and gets in the bed in his underwear. This is going to be so awkward in the morning if Kris doesn’t remember, he thinks. He gets comfortable, snuggling into a Kris-smelling pillow, but freezes when Kris’ hand lands on his waist.

“I can be friendly, too,” Kris says, eyes closed and looking almost asleep.

There’s a lazy smile on his lips and Adam has to bite his own to keep himself from leaning in. Instead, he covers Kris’ hand with his own and leads him to his cock. He is not going to be shy about this now. If Kris feels like giving him a hand, there is no way he is refusing it.

It’s a slow handjob, but still over way too fast. Kris doesn’t seem traumatized by the experience or anything. He wipes his hand on the sheets and snuggles close to Adam. He is asleep with the next breath, leaving Adam panting and wide-awake and completely lost.

-

The next morning when Adam wakes up, Kris is making pancakes.

Adam is not in a hurry to face him, so he takes his time in the bathroom and dresses up real slow. He finally has to gather his courage and step into the kitchen, and when he does, a slightly nervous, yet smiling Kris greets him.

“Hey,” Kris says, serving pancakes for both of them.

“Morning,” Adam says, sitting down and waiting for the axe to fall.

They eat in silence for a while, but Adam can tell that Kris is just trying to come up with a way to bring up the subject.

“So, last night…” he says finally, looking up quickly and then going back to his pancakes.

Adam feels bad for him. None of this was Kris’ fault. He shouldn’t be the one feeling awkward here.

“You were upset,” Adam says with a shrug. “I was just…”

“Being friendly?” Kris offers, smiling at him.

“Well, yeah,” Adam says, suddenly feeling at ease. That’s why he loves Kris. The guy is just too cool to exist.

“So you… do that?” he asks. “With your friends, I mean?”

It’s an idea. Adam goes with it. “Sure. I’m not exactly the serious relationship type. Better my friends than strangers.”

Kris nods like that makes a lot of sense. It’s actually a load of bull, but Adam is not about to point that out.

They eat the rest of their pancakes and things stop being awkward.

WIP Dump, Part 1

jerakeen.c@gmail.com — Mon, 16 Nov 2009 08:42:31 GMT

I have way too many WIPs, and I have every intention of abandoning most of them. But I kinda feel bad that they'll never get to see the light of day, so I'm posting snippets from some of them here. They are very rough, most of them are scenes I would've rewritten or completely scrapped had I decided to continue, so proceed at your own risk.

ETA: FOR PEOPLE WHO HAVE TROUBLE READING LOWERCASE LETTERS: THESE ARE ABANDONED WIPS. MEANING THEY WILL NOT BE CONTINUED. EVER. DO NOT TELL ME I LEFT YOU HANGING, OR I WILL BITE. HARD.

Entitlement is not fucking sexy.

The Amnesia Fic

The first thing Adam ever said to Kris was “Huh. I’m gay.”

In hindsight, he probably could have done better.

Kris looked up from the cart he had wheeled into the room, stacked with trays full of boring and disgusting hospital food, and said “Okay then.”

“I’m sorry,” Adam said, shaking his head, remembering himself and the manners someone had probably taught him at some point. “I’m just—I didn’t realize until now.”

“A little late to be figuring that out, isn’t it?” Kris said, still a bit flabbergasted.

Adam smirked. “Well, you’re too cute to resist apparently.”

Kris blushed furiously at his words, just then realizing what brought on the odd remark. Adam loved how his embarrassment didn’t get in the way of his amusement though; he didn’t turn away or get mad, just grinned at Adam with pink cheeks. “You’re the amnesia guy, aren’t you?”

“I see my reputation precedes me.”

“It’s a small hospital,” Kris said, handing him a tray. “We don’t get a lot of interesting cases.”

“I’m glad it’s interesting for someone,” Adam said, his tone unintentionally bitter. Interesting was the last thing he’d call this situation.

“Yeah, sorry,” Kris said. He wiped his palm against his clothes and stuck out his hand. “Kris Allen.”

“I’m Adam.”

The Ghost Fic

The condition of the house is…well, bad, but not as bad as Kris thought it would be. The road leading up to it is a right mess; it will undoubtedly trap them there when it snows. The yard is a veritable jungle at this point, but the house itself is not that bad.

The roof must have leaked at some point, making the second floor completely unlivable, but the ground floor is more than enough for them anyway. Kris finds a large room close to the kitchen, probably used by the staff, and spends the good part of their first day in the house scavenging furniture from other rooms to fix it up for them. He has to leave Vicky alone while he hunts down and carries the furniture, and he hates that, but he clips the baby monitor to his belt and tells himself firmly to get used to it. His mother won’t be there to help anymore. He has to learn to handle these things by himself from now on.

He has a nice, large bed in the room by the time the sun sets, and he even finds slightly musty sheets to go with it. He puts together Vicky’s bed next to his own and sets up a small play area for her in the corner. They have water and electricity, his mother’s basket is a gift that keeps on giving, and it’s warm enough that they don’t have to worry about the heating system that may or may not exist. Kris can’t ask for more tonight. So he grabs his guitar and sings Vicky a lullaby. Vicky laughs and tries to clap with her octopus and zebra in each hand. Her voice echoes through the old house, making it feel a bit like home.

-

Kris thinks he hears someone walking around upstairs as he goes to sleep that night, but when he holds his breath to listen, it’s only the creaking noises of the house settling around them.

He falls asleep and forgets all about it.

-

The closest town is a fifteen-minute ride from the house and the closest hospital is twenty minutes away in good weather. Kris has to take every precaution known to man, because he cannot afford to make a stupid mistake with Vicky when it’s so hard to get help where they are. The first thing he buys is a cell phone and he vows to carry it with him everywhere he goes. Then he stocks up on food, all kinds of baby formulas and canned goods—it’s not like they don’t have the space; their kitchen can house a small country all by itself.

The old man at the hardware store, Jim Goldwyn, helps him make a list of the things he will need and then helps him find the cheap but dependable stuff, all the while telling him about the town gossip involving the house, something about hauntings and ghosts and curses. Kris doesn’t pay much attention to the story, but thinks that at least explains the price at which he got the place. Jim is a good man; he offers to come over and take a look at the plumbing if Kris can’t handle it on his own and ends up giving Kris his phone number, saying you never know quite what you’ll need with a baby. He and his wife have raised six kids apparently and he knows all about the unexpected baby problems that tend to crop up in the middle of the night.

That night, after Kris finds out just how hard it is to try and fix up an old house by himself, he and Vicky set up in the dining room for their nightly playing and singing session. Kris’ arms are hurting from hauling the stuff he bought and cleaning out the garage, so he abandons his guitar after a while, and lies down on the floor to sing to Vicky.

He sings all of Katy’s old favorites and doesn’t even cry this time.

-

Kris wakes up in the middle of the night to the sound of a door slamming upstairs. He looks over at Vicky to see if she woke up, but finds her still sleeping peacefully, so he lets his eyelids fall again, making a mental note to check the doors and windows upstairs one more time.

-

Two weeks in, Kris finally decides that they are officially settled.

The ground floor of the house is all clean and set up for them to live in. The kitchen cupboards have been sorted through. They have one bathroom that works properly, albeit making ridiculous noises that amuse Vicky and worry Kris whenever they turn on the water. The heating works, in theory at least, whether it’ll get them through the winter is a whole another issue. And Mrs. Goldwyn, friendlier even than her husband, has helped him convert a small portion of the yard into a vegetable garden. He is pretty sure he will let everything in there die eventually, but he is still grateful for the effort.

A month in, Kris actually starts working on songs again.

He begins to think that things are finally starting to look up and his life is getting back on track. But then he shows up and complicates things all over again.

-

There are all sorts of weird noises in the house, but Kris figures that’s mostly because the house is so old, it’s creaking and groaning much like a ninety-year-old man would. The footsteps, the door slams and all those other creepy things he attributes to Jim’s stories scrambling his brain and making him hear things.

But then there is the misplaced stuff that he can’t explain. Either he has Alzheimer’s or there is a third person going around the house, touching his stuff. The only other explanation would be ghosts and Kris is just not that far gone yet.

At least not until he sees one.

He is walking past the dining room when he sees a man out of the corner of his eye, sitting in the old burgundy leather armchair, drinking a cup of tea. It’s one of the cups from the fancy china set that Kris found but never used.

Kris stops in the doorway to take in the picture before him. The man is wearing an overcoat of some sort, very old-fashioned, and he looks regal in the way he is sitting, like there should be a wait staff in the room to offer him milk with his tea and ask him if they should get his horse ready for his afternoon ride.

Kris stands there frozen until the man looks up, icy blue eyes meeting his, not surprised or hateful or anything, but knowing and calculating. Kris blinks a couple of times, like the man is just a play of light or dust in his eyes that he can shake off, and weirdly enough, when he focuses his eyes again, he is gone.

Kris walks into the room with slow but sure steps, goes towards the armchair and looks around the room to see if maybe the man hid somewhere, but there is no one under the table or behind the curtains, and all the windows are locked. He looks down at the cup of tea, it’s still hot from the looks of it, and there are tiny waves on the surface, like someone just took a sip.

Kris makes himself pick it up and take it back to the kitchen. He doesn’t let Vicky out of his sight that day.

-

After that day, it’s like a veil has been lifted, and Kris begins to see him everywhere. He is looking out the window while Kris works in the garden, walking past the doorway as Kris bathes Vicky. Sometimes he stares at Kris with an unblinking gaze, but most of the time it’s like he doesn’t care about them at all. He just goes about his own business, making himself tea, reading one of the dusty old books, or just watching the sky through the window.

The thing is, he seems harmless. Kris thinks if he has to live with a ghost, he would prefer this one to any other. Not that he has met any other ghosts, but he has seen the movies. The man doesn’t cause a ruckus, doesn’t throw stuff around or make any creepy noises. The only inconvenience is that Kris ends up picking up after the ghost as well as himself and Vicky, but that’s about it. He still doesn’t let Vicky out of his sight, because friendly or not, there is a stranger in the house, and appearing and disappearing at will aside, he seems pretty corporeal to Kris. There is no way he is trusting his daughter with that thing.

He considers moving, but his bank account says that is not an option. He knows his parents would help out if he asked, but he is not going to run back home at the first sign of trouble. He said he would do this and he will. He was thinking about medical expenses and not being able to afford food at the time, but he thinks even a ghost is not a good enough reason to back out of his plans now. He is going to have to just amend his initial plan and keep going.

-

And Kris does just that. But just when he thinks he has a new routine in place, the ghost throws him a curve ball and starts hanging out with his daughter.

Kris doesn’t ever leave Vicky alone for longer than a couple of minutes and never when he can’t hear her. So that day, when he leaves her in the kitchen to go looking for his glasses, he doesn’t feel the need to go back for fifteen minutes because he can hear her talking in her own unique gurgly language through the door. When he comes back, he realizes she wasn’t talking to herself like he thought. She was talking to their friendly neighborhood ghost.

The man never changes clothes, so Kris thinks maybe he died in them—which is a very creepy thought. They make him look tall and imposing, but also make him look ridiculous seated at the kitchen table, looking at Vicky’s colorful dinner set like a puzzle to be solved. Vicky is waving her plastic spork around, mashed potatoes flying everywhere, and she is talking a mile a minute, telling her new friend of some imagined adventures no doubt.

Kris walks over to the table to sit across from the man, waiting for him to finally say something or disappear as he usually does, but this time the man only spares him a glance and goes back to looking at Vicky. He looks intrigued by her, eyebrows drawn together, like he is trying to make sense of her strange language. He looks kind of funny, so Kris finds himself saying, “I don’t even understand her, you know.”

The man’s head whips around to look at him with wide open eyes. Kris thinks for a moment that maybe he didn’t realize Kris could see him, but that doesn’t make any sense. They’ve looked at each other, walked around one another enough times for it to be obvious. But maybe it’s just that Kris is talking to him?

The man makes a gesture as if to touch Vicky, but then pulls his hand back. Kris doesn’t tell him to go ahead; he hasn’t completely lost his mind yet. At least he doesn’t think so. He wipes the mashed potatoes off his glasses and puts them on. It’s better to just act natural, as he has been doing all this time. It’s too late to run out of the house screaming now. He serves himself a couple of meatballs and offers the ghost some too just to be polite. The man shakes his head slowly, staring at him like Kris is the weird one in the room.

Kris eats his food in silence, reading the paper in between. Vicky falls asleep in his chair. The man disappears.

-

The ghost starts joining them for most meals after that, and generally standing around and staring at Vicky whenever he is with them. Kris can understand the fascination. Babies are kind of like particularly bright pets. They are weird and clever and definitely fun to watch. Even if he didn’t love Vicky more than he has ever loved anything in his life, Kris would have enjoyed watching her do her thing.

Kris doesn’t mean to talk to the man, but he ends up doing it anyway. He doesn’t ever expect an answer; it’s almost like talking to Vicky, which he does all the time now. The man never talks back. Kris doesn’t know if he can’t or maybe he speaks another language and has no idea what Kris is saying. He does look kind of surprised and confused every time Kris says something, so that seems like a possibility. Though Kris has no idea how one would go about bringing the ghost of a foreigner to a house in the middle of Nowhere, USA. For all he knows it could be a ghost exchange program.

They get along great, Kris and his friendly ghost. Honestly, Kris couldn’t have asked for a better ethereal being to haunt his house. Things stop disappearing from where he has left them, the man even starts putting away his own tea cups after a while, and Kris sees him handing Vicky the toys she drops before she can start crying her lungs out over them. Maybe that’s why Kris gets so mad when his guitar goes missing; it catches him off-guard. Afterwards he thinks it was probably because he is frustrated with his lack of inspiration and his failure in writing non-depressing songs. It’s completely ridiculous to take that out on a ghost, but at the time, it somehow makes sense to him.

“Where the hell is my guitar?”

The man startles. That’s the first time Kris has ever seen him do that.

“You can’t just take my stuff and not bring them back. I don’t care how long you’ve been haunting this house. This is now my house, and that is my god damn guitar, and I need the damn thing to stay where I’ve left it.”

It’s probably the meanest Kris has been to anybody in a long time. He doesn’t normally get angry easily. And he never yells.

The man gives him a haughty look before leaving the room with a swish of his coat. He comes back a couple of minutes later holding the guitar and leaves it leaning against the wall. Then he leaves and doesn’t join them for dinner.

-

It’s surprising how much it bothers Kris that the ghost who was never talking to him in the first place is now officially not talking to him. The man no longer joins Kris and Vicky for meals, he doesn’t sit with them when they are playing and he never ever meets Kris’ eyes. As stupid as it sounds, Kris has somehow managed to hurt a ghost’s feelings and he has no idea how to make things right again.

What really gets to him is that he sometimes catches the man walking repeatedly past doorways and surreptitiously looking inside at Vicky as if he wants to come in. Kris finds himself wanting to invite him in every time, but the man never lingers long enough for him to say something.

Kris never finds the words and there is never a good time anyway, so with both sides silent, the cold war lasts about ten days. When it breaks, it is not Kris that talks first.

-

Kris is cleaning the attic, cobwebs covering his hair and clothes and possibly even his lungs, when he hears a sound and turns towards the door. It’s the ghost staring at him with big, panicked looking eyes.

“The baby,” he says, his voice deep and melodic, but somehow awkward, like he is not sure how to use it.

“What?” Kris asks, shocked stupid.

“Something is wrong with the baby,” the man says, looking back and down the stairs intently, like he can see through them.

Kris’ mind kicks in at that moment and he moves. The baby is Vicky. Something is wrong with Vicky.

He rushes past the man in the doorway and heads down, hearing footsteps following him. He checks the baby monitor on his belt and finds the red light blinking at him—it stopped working and he didn’t notice.

“What happened?” he asks, completely forgetting the awkwardness of speaking with a ghost—a ghost he has offended, no less.

The ghost must be feeling the same, because he doesn’t miss a beat. “She was choking. I didn’t know what to do. She was turning purple. I—”

They make it to the room and Kris grabs Vicky from her bed. She is coughing and choking, not exactly purple, but definitely on her way there. Kris pushes a finger in her mouth, trying to reach down to see what she has swallowed, but it’s just puke. She must have thrown up and then swallowed wrong, lying on her back. It’s the stupidest accident a baby can have, but that doesn’t make it any less scary. He holds her close and soothes her cries until she turns a more natural crying-red instead of choking-red and her screams turn into tired hiccups.

Kris stares at the ghost over her head and he stares back at Kris, his eyes sad.

“I didn’t know what to do,” he says.

This time, when he reaches over to touch Vicky, Kris leans a little bit closer to let him run his fingers over her hair. The man doesn’t look up, but he smiles.

-

That night the man joins them for dinner. He seems like he is having trouble letting Vicky out of his sight, for which Kris can’t really blame him. Babies are fragile and witnessing an episode like that scares the crap out of a first time parent—or a babysitting ghost apparently. Kris makes pasta for himself which the ghost doesn’t eat—Kris needs to ask him if he does eat one of these days—and Vicky manages to get some of her food in her mouth.

The man doesn’t talk, just watches the two of them with a faint smile on his face. Kris thinks he sees him getting baby food out of Vicky’s hair once or twice, but that’s about all he does.

It feels odd to be thinking that, but Kris feels like this is the first time they’ve had a family dinner in this house. Maybe it’s because two people just don’t make a family in his head or maybe he somehow started considering this man a part of theirs, but either way, it makes him feel warm and at peace in a way he hasn’t been feeling until now.

Vicky falls asleep at the table and Kris cleans her up a little to put her in bed. When he goes back into the kitchen to clear the table, he finds the man still seated at the table. He pauses in the doorway for a second before he decides to take a seat himself.

Apparently it’s time for interview with the ghost.

-

Kris sits down in the chair and they stare at each other.

He is the first person to hold Adam’s gaze like this in a long time. Ever, maybe; Adam can’t really be sure. He doesn’t remember the beginning, how he came to be here; he just knows that he was and is and will be. That’s the way it is.

So many people came and went through this house; it began to be depressing for Adam, so he stopped counting at some point. He vaguely remembers asking for help from some of them, begging them to stop and listen, but of course they never did. Most of them tried to fight him off, exorcise him and send him back to hell—why they thought he came from hell he has no idea. One or two of them talked to him, asked him what his unfinished business was. Adam doesn’t think he has any unfinished business. If he has, he can’t remember it now anyway.

For a long time now, he has been systematically scaring away all new tenants. He is tired of people; he has no use for them. He has books, ones he read millions of times, that have become friends to him, and he has his peace, which is more important than anything.

He thought his existence would go on like this. He did not expect Kris and Vicky to come along and change things so completely.

“So you can talk,” Kris says as an opening.

Adam nods, but then remembers that the whole point of this was to talk, and says, “Yes.”

He hasn’t talked to anyone in a long, long time.

“Is it…” Kris laughs and shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he says, eyes dancing with mirth. “It’s just surreal, this whole thing. I don’t even know what to ask you.”

“How did you die?” Adam says. “That’s what they always ask first.”

Kris sobers up at that. Tact, Adam thinks, is something he should work on.

“I don’t remember,” Adam answers before Kris can ask. “I don’t remember anything before this house.”

“You don’t eat,” Kris says, looking down at the plates. Adam noticed before that it bothers Kris. The man has a thing for feeding people.

“I don’t need to eat,” Adams shrugs. “I can eat, but what’s the point?”

“But you drink tea,” Kris counters. “All the time.”

Adam shrugs. “I like tea. Makes me feel warm.”

Adam doesn’t remember ever being warm himself, but sometimes he aches for it. He is not flesh and blood, not really a person, so he thinks it’s very possible that maybe he is made of cold air and nothing more. Tea gives him momentary warmth. That’s all he’s allowed it seems.

“Thank you for what you did today. For Vicky. It’s really… I don’t know what I’d…”

“You can leave her alone with me, you know. I would never hurt her.”

Kris looks taken aback slightly. He is a friendly guy—certainly the friendliest person Adam ever remembers meeting. Hard to faze too. But Adam suspects he is not that trusting when it comes to Vicky.

“I can’t know that,” Kris says, not hostile, just a fact.

It makes Adam smile. He has grown fond of this man.

“Why not? You know me now. Kind of.”

Kris sputters. “Well, for one thing, you’re a ghost.”

Adam’s lips stretch wider. It feels strange.

“That’s discrimination against ghosts,” he says.

Kris lets out a surprised chuckle.

The extra cat

jerakeen.c@gmail.com — Sun, 15 Nov 2009 16:59:17 GMT

I have a cat problem. And it's a cute one.

Before I tell you about the extra cat, let me tell you a bit about her family. This kitty's grandfather used to live around my house. He was really cute. He had huge paws and he really loved my dog--who was just a puppy back then. They had a very interesting relationship. I've never seen Nova love any cat like she loved that one.

I fed him for a couple of months, then he stopped coming around. I was sad, but that's the way it goes with strays. Especially where I live, because there are a lot of stray dogs around my house too.

Last summer, two identical cats showed up, his daughters I figured, because they were like miniature replicas of him. I called them Garden Cat 1 and Garden Cat 2, because there was no way to tell them apart. (I tried putting collars on them, but the collars got stolen in a matter of days, so I gave up.) These two kitties got pregnant around the same time and gave birth inside the wall of my house. Yes, you read that right. They were inside the wall--between the real wall and the drywall. I listened to the babies mewing for days before I could figure out where they actually were and how in the hell they got in there.

I didn't really mind that they were there, not until one of the garden cats got killed by a dog. My cousin found her right outside the gate and they took her to the vet, but her back was broken and she didn't survive the night. After that, I kind of freaked out. I had no way to get to the babies short of hacking my way through the wall, and I waited for days, listening for them. They had a spare mother though, so she took care of them, and eventually they got out of the wall. I snatched them all up as soon as they did, and put them in a basket in the balcony.

I couldn't keep them in the garden because of the dog, and I couldn't take them inside the house, because my cat has FIP, which is a viral disease, contagious and deadly. I meant to find homes for them, but their mother took them away before I could.

So, back to my current cat problem. A couple of weeks ago, one of the kittens came back. She's around 6 months old now, and she's the cutest thing ever. She was my favorite back then too, because her coat is ridiculous. I guess she's technically a calico, but she looks like someone took two different cats and merged them together. She's half gray, half tawny, and when I say half and half, I mean literally half and half. Two of her legs are tawny, the other two gray. She's the funniest looking cat ever.

And she's damn stubborn, too. She comes in through the dog door, which I can't lock, because obviously the dog needs it, and she climbs on top of the cat tree and sleeps there. Whenever I go out, I leave one cat inside, and come home to find two. And of course she pisses my cat off, but instead of fighting, puddlejumper just stalks off upstairs and ignores her--which is not at all helpful, I have to say.

I can't keep her out. I always give her food on the balcony, so she won't try and come inside for it, but of course, she doesn't care. And she cries when I don't let her in, it kills me to ignore her. I could try and find her a home now, but I don't think anyone would want a cat like her; she's a typical stray, she won't let anyone touch her, not even me.

I'd take her in, in a heartbeat, but FIP is no laughing matter. I lost one cat to it and I'd never willingly risk another. I simply cannot have another cat. But the extra cat doesn't really care. She likes my house and she's decided that she's going to live here.

I don't know what the hell to do! Anybody want her? I could Fed-Ex her to you, free of charge?

Because that's what you do on a Saturday...

jerakeen.c@gmail.com — Sat, 14 Nov 2009 22:09:59 GMT

...you read bandom transgender fics, highly questionable HP dub-con, and Star Trek stories that are made of so, so much awesome. Wasn't that what you all did? No? Hmm.

I never really thought I'd be interested in reading about a transgendered character, or would like to see one of my favorites portrayed as one, but fandom keeps, as always, proving me wrong. The following two fics, I found yesterday, and I especially enjoyed the first one, possibly because it has Gerard in it, but let's not linger on my obsessions. The third one is an old favorite. I'm including it because it fits the theme.

The Truths We Make by dancinbutterfly & allyndra (via nicholasflamel)
Bandom | Brian/Gerard | FRM | Transgender Fic | 12,000 words
If it had been left up to him, Brian never would have told the band that he’s trans. But it’s not really up to him anymore, and now they all have to deal with it.

Document by azurejay (via nicholasflamel)
Bandom | Pete/Patrick | R | Transgender Fic | 24,267 words
When Patrick was sixteen, he gave Joe fifty dollars and one of his wallet-sized school photos and a week later received his first fake ID. It said Patrick was twenty-one, and that his name was legally Patrick Martin Stumph, and that he was legally an M. "For male," he said to Kevin when he showed him the little plastic card.

Leaving Albuquerque by chaosmanor
Bandom | Pete/Patrick | Not Rated | Transgender Fic | 26,500 words
Andy was waiting, at the airport gate, when Suzy walked through the exit, and if there was any surprise in his eyes, it was immediately replaced by delight, and he hugged her quickly.

If you don't mind dubious-consent, underage sex, cousins getting married, and Draco being an underhanded Slytherin, I'd highly recommend this fic:

Stay by gypsyflame (via aayshah)
Harry Potter | Sirius/Draco | NC-17 | Arranged Marriage | 23,589 words
War is coming, and Narcissa is scared for Draco. So she turns to the only person she can think of – Sirius Black.

And here's my latest Star Trek faves, the first one, especially, is crazy good.

Breaking Points by ragdoll987 (via edenatsea)
Star Trek | Kirk/Spock | Mature | 70,000 words
When the Enterprise is asked to transport Vulcan colonists to their new home, Spock Prime comes with them. His presence changes everything – and leads to life-altering revelations for Jim and Spock. A story about growth, self-discovery, and new beginnings.

What Lies Beneath by ragdoll987
Star Trek | Kirk/Spock | PG-13 | 7,000 words
Spock, in typical Vulcan fashion, has withdrawn himself from the Enterprise, her crew, and most especially her Captain, and Jim is determined to find out why, even if it kills him.

Verbal Jump-Rope by ragdoll987
Star Trek | Kirk/Spock | PG-13 | AU | 5,000 words
At the end of the movie, the older Spock did not seek out his younger self and encourage him to stay on the Enterprise. It falls to Jim to convince him. This is how he does it.

With or without hands

jerakeen.c@gmail.com — Sat, 14 Nov 2009 07:52:25 GMT

Recs: Special Star Trek Edition

jerakeen.c@gmail.com — Fri, 13 Nov 2009 09:23:42 GMT

I only very recently started reading Star Trek, so I can't claim that these fics are the best of the fandom. But tagalongcookies asked for more Kirk/Spock recs after reading the awesome kidfic and I thought what the hell. So here's what I have so far:

You'll Get There in the End (It Just Takes a While) by seperis
Star Trek | Kirk/Spock | NC-17 | 33,500 words
"Spock. Just say 'I don't trust Starfleet not to mess up the only captain in the fleet who I can train up to my expectations and enjoys running into danger wearing a blindfold as much as I do'."

Looking for a Place to Happen by waketosleep
Star Trek | Kirk/Spock | NC-17 | AU | 23,500 words
In a timeline where the Vulcans never allowed Earth freedom from their oversight, Jim Kirk doesn't fit in. All he needs to get away is a fast ship and a crew as crazy as he is; luckily, some things are universal constants.

A Question of Science by screamlet
Star Trek | Kirk/Spock | PG-13 | 20,350 words
AKA "The One Where Spock Prime is a Matchmaker"; but be warned that it's as much about Spock Prime and matchmaking as TOS is about modes of technology in the 23rd century.

Pink by the_deep_magic
Star Trek | Kirk/Spock | NC-17 | 6,761 words
As per request, this story contains awkward!sex, debauched!Spock, extensive investigation on just what happened last night, and first time.

Compatibility Test by rhaegal
Star Trek | Kirk/Spock | Adult | 10,700 words
In which Spock learns about human relationships, and Kirk learns a thing or two about Vulcans.

Degrees of Separation by betweenthebliss
Star Trek | Kirk/Spock | R | 10,400 words
For ninety6tears's prompt at st_xi_kink : Kirk/Spock. While villainz are torturing both of them (or right after), Spock manages to mind meld with Kirk in an attempt to help him control the pain; dauntingly protective and angry "I'm going to kill them for doing this to you" stuff gets through and then they probably do kill the motherfuckers after all because they've just figured out they need to make it out alive so they can have lots and lots of sex.

Stars Apart, Shine the Same by sineala
Star Trek | Kirk/Spock | NC-17 | 8,049 words
It is the third mission of his command, and Captain James T. Kirk suspects he is going insane.

All That We Can Be, Not Just What We Are by dreamlittleyo
Star Trek | Kirk/Spock | NC-17 | 7,000 words
The bond between captain and first mate runs deeper than blood. Originally written for st_xi_kink to the prompt: Spock goes into Pon Farr and Uhura isn't able to empathically bond with him—but a certain Captain is.

To The Best of my Recollection by svilleficrecs
Star Trek | Kirk/Spock | R | 3,400 words
He can't understand why it disturbs him so deeply.

Our Emotional History is in the Kitchen by raphaela667
Star Trek | Kirk/Spock | Established Relationship | PG-14 | 4,365 words
“I know your son very well. I know that he is most likely to do what he is told not to do,” Spock says, and she sees a flash of humor in his face, but maybe she imagined that, too. “I wondered if it might be in my interest should you hate me on sight.”

No-Win Scenario by singingintime
Star Trek | Kirk/Spock | PG-13 | 3,700 words
For this prompt at [info]st_xi_kink: "Kirk/Spock. Epic, epic kissing. Remember the transporter room S/U necking? Something like that. The crew is all assembled to bid their captain good luck on his crazy dangerous mission and emotions are running high. Just prior to energizing K is thinking he just might not come back and this will be his only opportunity for a taste of the first officer he's secretly!madly!inlove! with. Shock and awe amongst K and crew when Spock returns the kiss (and how!) because of course he's also secretly!madly!inlove! with Kirk. From the Princess Bride, 'Since the invention of the kiss there have been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind.' I want this to be that kiss. Desperate and beautiful, we might never get the chance again kissing."

A Level Course and True by brighteyed_jill
Star Trek | Kirk/Spock | NC-17 | 3,670 words
Spock is experiencing an unsettling emotional response in the wake recent events, but the very last thing that could possibly improve the situation is a late-night confrontation with James T. Kirk.

Universal Translation by keelywolfe
Star Trek | Kirk/Spock | NC-17 | 2,500 words
Vulcans don't do touching.

Heat by waketosleep
Star Trek | Kirk/Spock | Adult | 1,929 words
"Pon-Farr hits Spock on the bridge and he zeroes in on Kirk, bonus McCoy making everyone leave the room getting Spock/Kirk somewhere semi-private to be."

Of Convenience by annenburg ***
Star Trek | Kirk/Spock | R | 31,000 words
Kirk needs to get married for political reasons. Spock offers himself as the logical choice.

*** This last fic is written for a kink meme and it shows. It's far from perfect. But I still enjoyed it, so I'm including it here. It also has a distinct lack of warnings in the header info, so let me fix that slight: the story contains MPreg, miscarriage and sexual assault among many other fandom kink and cliches. Beware.

Podfic: Be Cool

jerakeen.c@gmail.com — Fri, 13 Nov 2009 07:39:13 GMT

Be Cool, read by shiningartifact

Download (mp3)

Enjoy! And don't forget to give shiningartifact some love!

Podfic: The Date

jerakeen.c@gmail.com — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 20:24:55 GMT

shiningartifact is working her way through the Epiphany series, and she's already done with the second one!

The Date | Download Podfic (mp3)

Don't forget to give her some love!

Horizons

jerakeen.c@gmail.com — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 09:53:26 GMT

I read in a lot of different fandoms, so it's stupid that I mostly just rec the kradam stuff. This shall be my 11/11 resolution: rec in more fandoms.

So Wise We Grow by captanddeastar
Star Trek | Kirk/Spock | Kidfic | R | 81,000 words

“Commander Spock, we have located your son,” the Vulcan lady on the screen says, which would be great, except Jim can tell by the look on Spock’s face that he’s never heard of this kid before in his life. “If it is expedient, the child will be sent to join you on the Enterprise within the week.”

a marriage of convenience by jae_w
Bandom | Jon/Tom | Regency AU | NC-17 | 40,000 words

Jon was not opposed to marrying to his advantage in principle, but he'd never thought to wed himself to the season's scandal.

These are my latest discoveries. Do you have any good long fics you can rec back to me? I'm *craving* something ridiculously romantic.

Feel the hate

jerakeen.c@gmail.com — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 10:35:12 GMT

Here's what I think of this fandom:

I think we judge too much. I think we piss on people's squee, because they are not quite good enough for us, or not quite insightful enough, not quite gay enough, not quite dark enough, not quite clever or witty or proper or dirty enough.

I think we talk shit too much. We don't care about the hurt or the unfairness of it. We don't care that there are rules, unwritten though they may be, and a fandom etiquette that goes back years. We just want to snark, because we are the motherfucking ai fandom and the rules don't apply to us. Or we're just too dumb to figure out that they actually do.

For me, fandom has always been about love. It's about sharing squee, reading fic, flailing around, and escaping real life--where I can't be jerakeen, who loves gay love stories and reads porn and BDSM and even incest at times. Because in real life, people won't understand that. They won't care that it's fiction; they'll judge and label me in an instant.

This is where I come to for escape. This is supposed to be safe. But right now, it feels like a minefield.

Everyone is welcome to hate me for thinking this. They can hate me for writing snuggly fic. They can hate me for being straight. They can hate me for being a Muslim turned atheist. They can hate me for having a cat for all I care. If you hate me because you think I'm homophobic for not liking Adam's album cover? Well, I'd say you've gone off the deep end, but why the hell not? Hate me for that as well.

Comments will be screened for this post. Feel free to vent your hate at me here, anonymously even, if you want. Don't feel bad, let me have it. Because, after all, I don't agree with you. I must deserve what's coming to me, right?

(Also, try to be imaginative with your ooh, drama queen posts. At least let them be entertaining.)

~~ETA: Aaaand the screening don't work for some reason. Hate on me anonymously if you don't want everyone to see.~~

Huh. Now it works again. Just do whatever you feel like, I don't trust this thing.

ETA-Again: I'm not answering comments for my sanity, but to answer all questions as to what this is about--well, I have my limits and when someone calls me a homophobic douche for not liking an album cover, I think I reserve the right to lose my shit.

Read this!

jerakeen.c@gmail.com — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 09:15:36 GMT

Any Other Way by funnilyenough
PG-13 | Future Fic | 1,600 words

Kris and Adam were always going to end up together. Also, Kris breaks stuff.

Tiny stick love

jerakeen.c@gmail.com — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 08:49:39 GMT

painted_birdie made this for korestemenos, but I couldn't possibly let them have all the squee, so I stole it for my own nefarious purposes. (With their permission, of course, or it'd be rude.)

It's the jazz bar scene from Brand New Shoes!

Click to see it in all its glory!

Tiny stick Kris with his tiny guitar and tiny stick Adam with his personal space issues! And tiny stick Kris' blush! Awwwwwwwww.

There's more tiny stick people at painted_birdie's journal. You should definitely check it out. And while you're there, don't forget to give her some love for this awesomeness.

The Couch

jerakeen.c@gmail.com — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 21:59:43 GMT

Title: The Couch
Author: Jerakeen
Pairing: Kris/Adam
Rating: PG-13
Length: 1,800 words
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I mean no disrespect to anyone. I just wrote this, hoping it'll be fun for some people, so please stop reading it if it's not fun for you. I'm not trying to please everyone and you do have a back button.
Warnings: There's a couch. And making fun of a non-specific movie with a blonde actress. Could be taken as a slight against blonde women--if you're completely fucking crazy. But you never know.
Notes: Written for the aianonlovefest.

The Prompt: I want a fic where Kradam is (are?) watching a movie together and everyone else has gone to bed (idol, tour, present, future, whatever) and they end up sitting and watching it together but they're too busy being ~aware of one another to even pay attention.

Beta-read by drgaellon.

Summary: "This is a couch for tiny people," Adam says with a pout. "Did you buy this couch just so I won't stay over?"

( Story )

More Pod-stuff

jerakeen.c@gmail.com — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 15:51:39 GMT

New podfic!

Epiphany, read by shiningartifact.

Available in two formats: wav & mp3

It's her first ever podfic, so please don't forget to leave her feedback if you enjoy her work!

Also, cybel has compiled a podbook (m4b) for Far Along This Road which you can download here and leave feedback for here.

A podbook is an audiobook, apparently. I just learned this myself. iTunes will recognize this format as an audiobook and store it with your other audiobooks and not your songs. It has a cover and it's bookmarkable, so it's pretty cool for iPod users.

Found my kink!

jerakeen.c@gmail.com — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 19:51:15 GMT

They may not be as hardcore as non-con or spanking or whatever, but I do have my kinks!

There are two arranged marriage ficlets at the new kink meme, one complete, one WIP, and they are awesome. I have no frickin' clue what I love about that idea, but I just-- *FLAIL* *MORE FLAIL*

Flaily Hands

jerakeen.c@gmail.com — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 19:56:59 GMT

My shelbecat is back! YAYAYYAYAYAY!!!

Go and read her fic, because it's the cutest fucking kidfic I've ever read in my life, and while you're there, please bitchslap some sense into her for me. I don't know what to do with myself when she disappears off the face of the internets. Yes, codependency issues, I has them.

The Trouble With Kids Is...
AU | KidFic | 7,750 words

The truth is that Adam doesn't really remember meeting Kris. If it weren't for the evidence, he'd deny having any knowledge of the guy; but a picture speaks a thousand words, or some such nonsense, and the picture presently displayed on his phone is yelling, 'Yes, you do know him, and you kissed him, you TRAMP!'

His phone can be such a bitch.