samanthahirr

Just a quick little something I whipped up in the kitchen. (No whips or kitchens included.)

American Idol, Adam/Kris, PG-13, 500 words
Total fiction. No infringement on the rights of real people intended. Not profiting in any way.

“Before I tell you this next part, I want you to promise not to freak out,” Adam warned. “I already called Donald, and he’s gonna take care of it.”

Kris wasn’t sure how Adam’s story could get worse than the cops busting up Cassidy’s runway show looking for an escaped bank robber. “Okay?” he agreed.

“Okay,” Adam said, and took a deep breath. “They took our phones.”

“The cops?”

“Yeah.”

Kris grinned a little and relaxed against the back of the couch. “I know it probably feels like the end of the world right now, but I’m pretty sure you’ll live without it.”

“That’s not…. They took all the cameras and the phones as evidence. To collect the photos. So that means….”

“Did somebody snap a shot of you making out with Posh Beckham? ‘Cause you know I won’t compete with her,” he teased.

“No! Kris,” Adam said seriously, “they’re gonna download my photos. All my photos,” his eyebrows popped meaningfully.

“Yeah? They’re the cops, babe, not the paparazzi.”

“Okay, you don’t get it. Remember those photos I took? Two weeks ago?”

Kris cocked his head, not recalling anything Adam would be worried about. Except maybe…

“Of us,” Adam emphasized.

“Oh my God!” Kris choked on his beer, his stomach dropping out. “You said you’d deleted those! Adam, you told me you deleted those!”

“I did! …Except a few favorites,” he mumbled.

Oh shit. Kris flipped through his mental scrapbook of that night, trying to pick the worst case scenario. Kris’s mouth on Adam’s…. Adam’s tongue in Kris’s…. “Tell me they don’t have the one with the handcuffs.”

Adam winced so hard it looked like someone had stepped on his new DSquared boots. Kris almost made that a reality.

“This isn’t happening,” Kris said to himself, trying desperately not to picture that picture on TMZ. On every fan site across America. On his mom’s computer screen.

“They’re the cops,” Adam reassured him with his own words, “not the paparazzi. Besides, we’ve been public for two years. It isn’t anything they didn’t already know we’re doing. And Donald’s gonna get ‘em back before they leak, I’m positive.”

Kris tried to take comfort in that, he really did. Adam’s agent was the quickest draw in Los Angeles with cease-and-desists. If anyone could bury the photos, it was Donald. But even still…. “Did you at least delete the vibrator one?”

Adam’s smile crumbled. “Not…really.”

“Oh my God, my agent’s gonna kill me,” Kris groaned. “And my mom is gonna disown me.”

“It’s not gonna get out! The police have procedures for handling evidence, right? I mean, if you think about it, the possibility’s only, like,” Adam held up his hand to demonstrate, fingers spread about three inches wide.

“So was the vibrator!”

Adam flushed and Kris could see him biting back an embarrassed grin. “That was my favorite,” he admitted.

“I don’t…. That’s it. Get up.”

“What?”

Kris pointed his finger at the stairs. “You’re sleeping in the guest room tonight.”

“Come on, Kris….”

“And every night for the next week.”