Adam’s voice, Kris decided around the fog inside his head, was great for murmuring. He’d heard Adam use it in a lot of different ways and over time he had familiarised himself with its outrageous range and its gentle quality. In a way, Adam was his voice, he could play with it and shape it according to his mood and the occasion and Kris had always kind of admired the easiness with which Adam sang and, more so, spoke. He talked a lot and it wasn’t nonsense either, and Kris had listened to him so many times – the majority of which at the mansion, lying in bed while Adam’s voice filled the room and effortlessly captured and held his attention until one of them would fall asleep - that he believed he had come to know every single thing Adam could do with his voice.
Tonight, though – or maybe it was already morning, he didn’t really know – Kris realised he was wrong: this was the first time he actually heard Adam murmuring. Adam was standing in the otherwise empty kitchen with his back turned to him and his phone pressed to his ear. He was talking, his head bowed, and his voice had dropped an octave or two. It was softer and lower and slower than Kris had ever heard it, and he caught himself listening rather breathlessly while intricate telephone systems picked it up and transported it to god knew where. It was kind of a shame, Kris thought rather senselessly while leaning heavily against the doorway with his eyes pressed closed, that that voice couldn’t remain just here with him, that it had to be taken elsewhere.
The world became a little woolly, all of a sudden, and Kris couldn’t quite remember what he was doing in Adam’s kitchen - getting some more vodka, ice cubes, a dishcloth? – so he decided there was no harm in standing here just a little longer and listening to the quiet stream of words tumbling from Adam’s lips until he remembered what he was supposed to be doing. Matt and Anoop wouldn’t miss him anyway, they were too busy drinking their way through Adam’s impressive alcohol supply and gazing at the stars in the back yard, or whatever it was that they were enjoying themselves with.
Kris listened and sighed. He didn’t even know what Adam was saying, or who he was talking to – probably his possiblymaybe boyfriend, whose name had escaped Kris entirely – but it didn’t really matter because the voice had arms and they were wrapping around him. They were very long. He wanted to sleep a little.
He thought of big beds and Adam and soft heavy blankets and he belatedly realised that the murmuring had stopped. He opened his eyes to find Adam looking down at him with that doting look he could have, as if Kris were a puppy he wanted to put in his pocket, and Kris closed his eyes again and let himself fall against Adam’s chest and he thought of blankets once more.
“Hey,” Adam said in mild surprise, but he sounded amused and his arms came up around him and Kris nuzzled his face against the fabric of his shirt.
“Mmm talk,” he mumbled, and Adam laughed a soundless laugh that vibrated through his body, kind of like the way his voice had just done.
“Hmm?” Adam said, but he didn’t let go of him and a patronising part of Kris’s brain chose this moment to point out that getting vodka, or ice cubes, or a dishcloth, or whatever it was he was supposed to be getting, didn’t involve cuddling up to Adam in his kitchen. He promptly decided to ignore that part as best as he could.
“Your voice,” he clarified, or thought he did. “Talk to me.”
Adam laughed again but this time there was actual sound, and it was almost as good as the murmuring, Kris thought.
“Baby, I think you’re a little drunk,” Adam said in his normal, everyday voice, and he pushed Kris away a little to hold him at an arm’s length.
“Mmm,” Kris conceded, and he stumbled past Adam into the kitchen because he suddenly remembered he had wanted a glass of water. He grabbed a glass from the cabinet, put it on the counter and moved to the fridge before he realised something.
“You said baby,” he said, turning to face Adam who was leaning cross-armed against the doorframe, watching him. His hair was streaked with blue and it matched the print on his shirt. He didn’t know the shirt. It was probably new. “Baby,” he repeated, dragging himself back to the conversation. It was a little hard to focus somehow. “You never call me that.”
Adam grinned. “I’m sorry,” he said, though he didn’t seem particularly sorry to Kris.
Kris frowned. “I like it,” he said, and he went towards Adam, whose eyes and body looked suddenly very inviting and warm. He moved into Adam’s personal space and dropped his head forward until it hit his chest. “Say it again. With the sex voice.”
“The sex voice?”
He felt the laughter and then the arms pulled him against warm muscle and bone and Kris didn’t really want to move any time soon.
“You murmured,” he said, sounding all muffled. “On the phone.”
“Hm-hm. Who was it?”
“On the phone? Scott.”
“Your boyfriend,” Kris said by lack of a better description. “I don’t like him.”
Adam chuckled. “You haven’t even met him.”
“I don’t like him,” Kris insisted, and Adam didn’t reply to that, just moved his hand up and down his back.
“’s nice,” he mumbled.
“Shouldn’t you go to bed?”
It was silent for awhile and Kris sighed happily against Adam’s chest. This chest was made for snuggling, he thought, and then he said, “Call me baby again.”
Adam huffed out a laugh and he loosened his grip around him a little. Kris wanted to protest but then Adam bent his head and brought his lips to his ear. He smelled the faint traces of his cologne and his hair was tickling the side of his neck. Kris’s fingers curled themselves in Adam’s shirt.
“Go to bed,” Adam said in the same low voice he had used on the phone, and Kris made a small, desperate noise that turned into a whole range of small, desperate noises when Adam added a soft, murmuring, “baby”.
“Adam,” Kris croaked. His knees were barely supporting him.
Adam said nothing and he moved his head up and away but Kris’s hands found it before it could get too far. He saw surprise flash in Adam’s eyes before he closed his own, and then he kissed him.
It was short, desperate and unfocused but through the haze Kris registered the fullness of Adam’s lips, the hand that tangled itself in his hair, and after a few glorious moments Adam pulled back, fingers releasing their grip.
“Kris,” he said. “This isn’t—”
“You’re drunk.” Adam was frowning a little and Kris found himself reaching out and touching the skin below his eye, careful not to mess up the makeup. Adam’s hand came up and curled gently around his fingers. “What are you doing?” Adam asked, and he dragged down their hands until they rested somewhere below his collarbone.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I just wanted—”
“I’m not going to kiss you when you’re drunk,” Adam interrupted him, and that was new. Adam usually let him finish whatever he wanted to say.
“But I want you to,” Kris protested, and he tried to wind himself around Adam to show that he was actually telling the truth.
Adam sighed and gently pushed him away. “Don’t tempt me, Kris. I mean it.” He moved past him towards the counter and started putting away the glass Kris had just gotten himself.
“Why not? You were tempting me earlier and now I can’t tempt you?”
Adam turned to look at him. “How was I tempting you?”
“The voice. The talking. Adam, come on.” Kris was whining now, and he didn’t care. He just really, really wanted to kiss Adam again. He went towards him and trapped him between his body and the counter without actually touching him. “Come on,” he repeated. “Baby,” and Adam smiled a little and pulled him closer.
“I really, really don’t want to do this,” Adam said.
“Liar,” Kris retorted, and kissed him to prove it.
It was gentle this time, kind of intoxicating really, with Adam’s lips moving unhurriedly against his, slowly coaxing them open, and Kris was so incredibly glad he had walked in on him talking like that, otherwise he might never have known what it was like to be kissed by Adam, and being kissed by Adam was even better than being murmured to by Adam, and that, Kris thought to himself as he tried not to drape himself all over him, was saying something.