Allison has already gone to bed, so Adam has no idea why they are still watching this stupid movie. It's so damn boring, even the hotness of the male lead can't redeem it for him.
"Why are we still watching this?" he asks Kris, reaching over to grab some of his popcorn.
"Shhh," Kris says, waving him away. His eyes are glued to the screen. Seriously? Adam looks back at the screen to see the blonde girl with no brains swoon into the arms of the guy with a hot ass.
"I thought the best part of being divorced was supposed to be not having to watch chick flicks anymore."
Kris snorts at him. "I've seen your DVD collection, Lambert."
"Okay, correction," Adam says, pulling his feet up on the couch. "Not having to watch bad chick flicks."
Adam stretches his legs out to put his feet in Kris' lap. Kris just barely catches the bowl of popcorn Adam kicked on its way down to the floor. "Hey, watch it!"
Adam wriggles a little, trying to fit himself on the couch, but the armrest digs into his neck, and he pulls his legs back to sit up again with a huff.
"Jesus, now what?"
"This is a couch for tiny people," Adam says with a pout. "Did you buy this couch just so I won't stay over?"
"Yeah, exactly," Kris says, turning back to his movie. "That's why I gave you your own room."
Well, yeah, there is that. Kris even let him choose the furniture. It made Adam feel a bit like a kid. "Okay, fine; then you just don't want me to watch TV with you."
Adam turns the other way around and puts his head in Kris' lap, pulling his knees up to fit his legs on the couch. It's a tight fit, but it works.
Kris places the bowl of popcorn on the floor. "Yeah, you know what? I really kind of don't, now."
"Shut up," Adam says, slapping his knee and leaving his hand there. "You love me."
Adam freezes as soon as the words leave his mouth, and he waits, staring at the screen with wide-open eyes, his breath stuck in his throat, but Kris doesn't say anything. It takes a full five minutes for Adam's heart rate to go back down. He lets his body melt into the cushions, and tells himself to stop being such an idiot. This has been a good night, Kris is even letting him snuggle now, there's no point in asking for trouble.
But Adam has never been able to stay away from trouble in his life, so it's futile for him even to try now. He realizes too late that his fingers have started moving back and forth on Kris' knee, his fingernails dragging against the rough fabric of his jeans. Kris doesn't even twitch, so Adam doesn't stop. Back-forth, scritch-scratch; it's kind of hypnotizing.
And then, just when he starts to think he's getting away with it, he feels Kris' palm resting warm on his neck. Kris moves his thumb slowly along Adam's jaw line, the tip of it touching his ear, and then going back down. Adam swallows hard, but doesn't admit defeat. Instead, he lets his hand fall down Kris' leg to cup the back of his ankle. Kris isn't wearing any socks, so it's smooth skin under his fingers, and he mirrors Kris' movement to caress the softest part of his ankle.
The motion of their fingers is soft and smooth, but Adam feels nowhere near relaxed. He is tense as a bowstring. He thinks if someone touched him now, he'd jump out of his own skin and scream 'I didn't do it!' There is no way this is going to end well; he should stop it, get up, fake a yawn, and go to bed, but the competitive, stubborn part of him just can't let it go.
He tries to focus on the movie, but it's just a blur in front of him. So he closes his eyes instead, and tries to hear the music in the background. It's piano, very soft, very peaceful, comforting. He feels his muscles loosen, but that only works to make him realize how his neck is burning under Kris' touch.
Kris shifts, making Adam's heart skip a beat, and places his left hand on Adam's head, his fingers finding their way into his hair and massaging his scalp. Adam almost moans, his body wanting to arch into Kris' touch, but he holds it all back. He is good, he is a pro, he can do this. They shared a room for months, and okay, maybe Kris wasn't available back then, but he is no more available to Adam right now, anyway. They have an understanding. Unspoken, but Adam is pretty sure they both know it by heart. Their friendship is important. Much more important than what will probably be a disastrous relationship. That's why they do not cross that line.
But they are skirting very close to the line tonight, and a part of Adam wants to say to hell with it, and meld their bodies together. It's probably the prolonged flirting; they've been at it for years now, but Adam doesn't remember ever wanting anyone in as many ways and on as many levels as he wants Kris. It's intellectual, and primal, and emotional—it's scary how beyond just wanting, he needs Kris. They managed to tangle themselves together in ways Adam doesn't know how to untangle anymore, and trying to work someone else into that mess, trying to have a relationship with someone else when his happiness is so inescapably tied together with Kris' is just—he doesn't want to say impossible, so he's just going to go with extremely taxing.
Whatever he calls it, it's a constant fight against the current, and some days, Adam just wants to let go and drown.
Kris sighs and lets his fingers dance along Adam's throat, a couple of them stealing away towards his chest, catching a few stray hairs and making him hiss. Adam feels like his heart is going to burst out of his chest, so he turns around to lie on his back; he has every intention of sitting up and leaving the room, but when he looks up to meet Kris' eyes, he feels all air leave his lungs and his elbows turn into limp noodles.
Kris has been watching him, not the movie, and the look in his eyes is—yearning. He wants, at least as much as Adam does, and he doesn't seem like he has the energy left to hide it. His right hand cups Adam's cheek, his thumb running against the stubble, and he just stares, showing Adam everything he ever wanted to see in Kris' eyes and leaving the rest up to Adam.
But all Adam can think is kiss me kiss me kiss me, because he can't decide this on his own, he can't take the plunge with the stakes so high, and he can't he can't he can't think with Kris' face right there, his eyes pleading, his lips pouting. He can't. All he can do is lie there and think kiss me kiss me kiss me.
"Are you sure?" Kris whispers, and Adam feels his eyes go huge. What part of that did he say out loud?
"The part about the kissing," Kris says, biting his lip. He runs his thumb along Adam's lower lip and leans down a little.
It's such an odd angle. They waited years and this is what they came up with? Adam rises up on his elbows and their lips meet in an awkward kiss. They stay frozen—their mouths are touching, finally, and the world didn't come to an end—and then Adam exhales and opens his lips, and Kris' hands come up to grab his face, and they kiss, hungry, greedy, starving. It's messy and bruising, no finesse at all, and Adam's neck hurts from trying to arch up, so when the lack of breath becomes a problem, he lets his head fall back, his eyes staring up at the ceiling, and gasps uselessly as Kris lays kisses on his neck.
"Adam," Kris moans into his neck, his hand supporting the back of Adam's head—so very gently, as if he's holding something fragile, and that breaks the last of Adam's barriers. He gets up, straddles Kris, and locks their lips together properly. Fireworks don't go off, he doesn't see flashes of light under his eyelids, but he feels drunk and light-headed, like if he lets go of Kris' face, the room will start spinning and he'll throw up. He doubts Kris would take that as the compliment it clearly is, so he keeps his eyes shut, leans Kris' head back and keeps on kissing him.
The movie has ended when he opens his eyes next. The DVD menu is playing an annoying bit of music on a loop, but Adam can't find the will to care. He looks down at Kris, head resting on the back of the couch, and can't stop himself from leaning down to suck Kris' lower lip into his mouth. Kris looks spent and used, and so beautiful he makes Adam's chest hurt.
"Hi," Adam says with a tentative smile.
The answering grin Kris gives him is blinding. "Wow," he says.
"Yeah," Adam agrees. He pushes Kris' hair back from his face. "I didn't think we'd ever do this," he says. "I'm not sure if we should have."
Kris makes a face. "Why not?"
"End of the world," Adam explains. "Apocalypse. Doom."
Kris smirks. Adam can't be expected to resist that; he presses another chaste kiss on his lopsided lips. "I doubt even you can bring about the Apocalypse with just a kiss," Kris mumbles against his lips. "Maybe when we have sex, though," he says, a wicked gleam in his eyes.
Adam groans and pulls him down to lie on the couch with a complicated maneuver, but he miscalculates, or maybe the goddamn couch is too goddamn small in the first place, and Adam ends up on his back on the floor, alone.
Kris rolls over to peer down at him. His hair is going every which way and his eyes are dancing with mirth. He looks silly and sweaty and he has rings under his eyes from working too hard and not sleeping enough, and Adam doesn't think he's wanted anything else since he first laid eyes on him four years ago.
"You okay?" Kris asks, smiling his unassuming little smile, as if he's not everything Adam wants in one neat little package.
"I hate your couch," Adam says, as if he is not dying to reach up and take him in his arms and not let go. As if he doesn't mean to say 'I love you' instead.
Kris grins at him, huge and wild.
Adam opens his arms. "Come here."