Let's be clear here, Adam knows that it was a stupid thing to do. Adam knew that before, during and after throwing that punch and you know what?
He'd do it again in a heartbeat.
Kris was backed into a corner, which is a red flag in itself. He's not the social animal that Adam is but Kris likes to mingle and Adam's gotten used to the way Kris will find the most interesting people and have actual heart-to-heart conversations with them. The two pockets-full of phone numbers Kris chucks in the trash when they get home are a long-standing joke. Adam doesn't get jealous when Kris is working a room, he gets smug.
There's something awesome about being able to slide his arm across Kris' shoulder, the envious flash in people's eyes as Adam stakes his claim casually and Kris beams up at him. Adam has never claimed to be a good person and after four years of pining, he figures that he's entitled to a certain level of smug.
Getting invited to the Oscars was a rush and Adam danced Kris down the red carpet with the paparazzi cooing at them. It's kinda awesome how much the media loves them even if Adam doesn't trust it. Seeing Brad Pitt at the after party had reduced Adam to a puddle of giddy fanboy and Kris had grinned up at him and gone to get him an autograph.
"Best. Boyfriend. Ever." Adam declared and kissed him hard enough to leave his lips a little swollen and his eyes a little glazed. It's a physical wrench to let Kris go like that, rumpled and sexy and how much longer do they have to stay again?
Adam got sidetracked into a discussion about sexuality and gender identity with Jake Gyllenhaal and it wasn't until like fifteen minutes later that he realized Kris hadn't come back. He turned to look and there was Kris, backed nearly all the way into a corner.
Brad Pitt isn't as tall as Adam but he fucking towered over Kris. There's something in the body language that pinged Adam's lizard brain and he excused himself and started to make his way over. Adam knows Kris can defend himself, Adam trusts Kris to defend himself but even Kris, tough as Arkansas boot leather and fierce as Adam, couldn't compensate for the difference in sheer physical mass.
Brad crowded closer, pinning Kris to the wall and Adam saw Kris' eyes go wide with anger and fear. Brad's hand slipped under the waistband of Kris' pants and Adam saw red: a bloom of scarlet fury. He'll remember later, safely back in their bed with Kris anchored safely against his chest and both of them wrapped up in sheets and quilts, that Kris twisted and fought to get away. He'll remember that Kris contorted to dodge the not-so-drunken kiss.
He'll remember that, after he remembers the rage at Kris' furious, terrified eyes, the way the world slowed and stretched out and the shock of impact up his wrist, his arm, his shoulder and the way Brad Pitt toppled backwards like a falling tree. Adam could have kept it up, kicked and stamped and raged until Brad was dead. He could have done that, Adam knows, and never lost a second's sleep.
But Kris needed him and Kris Allen is more important to Adam Lambert than anything else in this world. That's just a fact.
Adam gathered Kris into a hug and felt his racing pulse. He doesn't remember who got them out which is a shame because he really owes them a tip. Like a three figure tip. He remembers the car, Kris shaking and shamed and curled up against his chest. He remembers tumbling Kris into their bed, freshly showered and clean and kissing him, touching him, fucking him until Kris yielded, opened his eyes and his heart and his body to Adam and let Adam love him.
PR calls at six the next morning, damage control in full swing. Adam refuses point blank to apologise for punching the creep who sexually assaulted his boyfriend. Kris is still a little too-pale, huddled a little too close to Adam and Adam turns to the head PR drone and says "Just let us tell our side. I don't even fucking care who shows it."
So they wind up on Oprah's new show, hand in hand on the couch as she asks "Why did you punch him?"
Adam pauses, lets the moment hang and answers honestly, "Because no-one is ever allowed to make Kris look like that."
Kris squeezes his hand; tells Oprah that they "don't want a media circus," that he "didn't say anything that could be considered a come-on. No, really, I'm sure." and lastly, "I'm in love with Adam, I'm living with Adam and even if he didn't love me like that, Brad Pitt could offer me, like, a million dollars to sleep with him and I'd still say no because it's Adam or it's no-one, you know?"
He looks adorable, blushing but sincere and 19E's PR has a collective orgasm over it. Brangelina's first interview, later that night with Jimmy Kimmel (who Adam sends the biggest bunch of flowers he can find) who is hostile and disbelieving the whole way through, tanks like the Titanic.
Press coverage is nuts but Adam doesn't see most of it until Brad shows him the online scrapbook weeks later. Instead, he takes Kris to Hawaii, basks with him on perfect white beaches, fucks him on black silk sheets and goes scuba-diving with him because Kris begs so prettily. Kris laughs and splashes him and talks all through dinner with his mouth full, eyes lit up in a way that they haven't been since the Party.
That evening, with a Kodak perfect sunset on the beach behind the house, Adam comes out to the patio where Kris is strumming on his guitar and kisses him, chaste and sweet. Kris' mouth opens under him and it's a physical wrench to pull back.
Kris looks confused when Adam breaks the kiss to get on one knee. "Adam?"
"I had this awesome speech," Adam confesses. "Full Lifetime movie special and everything but I think I'd freak you out if I was reading off a script."
Kris looks plenty freaked out already. "What? Ad-"
"Kristopher Neil Allen," Adam says seriously, taking the small, battered box out of his robe pocket. "I love you. I beat up A-list celebrities for you, even. Will you marry me?"
Kris' expression...honestly, Adam can't describe Kris' expression before Kris pretty much pounces on him. Radiant, maybe, he thinks as Kris paints 'yes' into his skin and breathes it against his lips.
They land in LA to round-the-block paparazzi, Kris wearing the ring Adam bought three years and nine months before, and they kiss in front of a cheering, whistling crowd. Reporters ask if they have any comment and Kris beams up at Adam.
"We're getting' hitched."
Adam is only a little smug when the news of their engagement keeps Brangelina's divorce off the front page for the whole damn week.
Chapter 2: Getting Married
Deciding to get married was easy.
Actually getting married? That was, in Brad's words, a bitch in high-heels with a lemon and vitriol cocktail.
Kris wants something simple; Adam's boy is still the sweet Southern gentleman underneath the LA gloss he picked up from Adam. He wants just friends and family and a private place where he and Adam can say 'I do'.
Adam, on the other hand, is sneakily siding with the PR team for a big extravaganza. He feels a little bad when Kris starts frowning halfway through his assistant's enthusiastic up-sell of the Greatest Celebrity Wedding On EarthTM but come on, how often is he going to get to stamp a huge big "Property of Adam Lambert, bitch!" on Kris in front of everyone in the world? Even metaphorically speaking?
The problem is Adam is actually in love with Kris and Glamgod Megabitch persona or not, Adam actually can't stand seeing Kris upset so he spends one night with an open bottle of vodka and Cassidy, dreaming of what might have been. It is epic, with fireworks and a cake that will feed ten thousand people and glitter rain. It's the wedding of Adam's dreams, in fact.
He and Kris have a PR meeting scheduled for the next afternoon, the last chance to be small and subtle and Adam's going to bite the bullet and make sure Kris gets his private, small wedding. It doesn't work out like that.
Instead Adam wakes to the smell of coffee and (delicious, sinful) bacon to find Kris looking at the table full of sketches. Cassidy is drooling onto the doodle of the firework/champagne fountain. Kris is wearing his glasses and looking rumbled but awake.
"Hey," Adam mumbles around his coffee, snuggling into Kris' shoulder because his breath is gonna be foul and even if he wants to kiss Kris, Kris won't wanna taste that.
"Hey," Kris says, hand coming up to ruffle Adam's hair absently as he looks at the sketches. "You've been busy."
"Nothing important," Adam says and Kris turns his head so he's looking at Adam with that rueful half-smile that he has when he's figured out something Adam didn't want to tell him.
"Doesn't look that way," and Adam's breath catches as Kris sifts through the pages, lingering on the 'his-and-his' tuxes. "I mean, it still needs work, y'know? I want a say in some of this. Probably the menu; we are not having our guests eating rabbit food, okay? And no. No way am I wearing a collar, Adam, my mom's gonna be there!"
"The collar," Adam says, leaning up to kiss Kris because he seriously has the most awesome fiancé on the planet. "Is totally negotiable."
The collar winds up in every single one of the millions of photos that show up on every channel and in every magazine, along with Adam's biggest smug grin.