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Written for the aianonlovefest! With <3 to Merry for beta. :D

In Writing
by astolat

"Wait, what?" Kris said.

"Do you need me to go over it again?" Patricia said, in bored tones.

"That can't be in my contract," Kris said.

She slid the paper over to him with the clause circled. His initials were on the bottom of the page, in his handwriting.

"You guys seriously can't—isn't this illegal?" Kris said.

"Of course not," Patricia said. "It's not like we're requiring you to have sex with him. That would be illegal."

"But you said—"

"You have to sleep with him," Patricia said. "What happens after that is up to the two of you."

"Uh," Kris said. "I'm married. Remember?"

"You don't have to get a divorce if Katy doesn't mind," Patricia said.

"She does mind!" Kris said.

"In that case, we can arrange excellent legal representation," Patricia said.

"I don't mind," Katy said.

"What?" Kris said.

"Well," Katy said, "I got a job!"

"That's awesome, but—"

"In Tokyo," Katy said. "For the next six months." She had the grace to look a little embarrassed.

Kris stared at her helplessly. "You want to go to Tokyo for six months without me?"

"Of course I don't want to," Katy said. "But it's for this amazing movie trilogy with Jack Black, I think it could really be huge, and by the time I get back, your contract will be up and you can do whatever you want—"

"You want to go to Tokyo with Jack Black for six months and leave me with Adam?" Kris said.

" shows how much I trust you?" she offered weakly.

Adam was still off on the third leg of his unending world tour, or maybe the fourth depending on how you counted, and not answering voicemail or texts. Kris was feeling a little hurt about that, until Patricia called and told him to quit trying.

"I don't see why he wants me in the same house if he doesn't even want to return my calls," Kris said.

"I'm sure if his assistant passed your messages up the food chain like she's supposed to, he would indeed call you back, and then you could violate the good faith provision in several key ways, leaving us no choice but to sue you for large sums of money," she said. "Fortunately for all of us involved, the young lady in question gets her paychecks from us." She paused. "And don't even think about tweeting him publicly."

Kris hung up on her, which he had never done on purpose to anybody ever. But privately, the conversation made him feel kind of better. He wasn't moping around or anything just because his wife was ditching him for Jack Black, but he was glad Adam wasn't blowing him off, too. Not that Kris was suddenly ready to be Adam's sleeping-together buddy now or anything; but the lawyer he'd gone to for a second opinion was divided on whether 19E could order him to be naked or not, but completely sure they could order him into bed, so he probably had to get used to the idea.

And he had to admit it was a little flattering when he finally cornered Simon Fuller at a party, and Fuller put a creepy faux-fatherly arm around his shoulders and said, "Kris, please do understand, we really don't have a choice. You have no idea how much money his tour has made."

"Two hundred eighty-four million," Kris said. It had been mentioned in every issue of Rolling Stone for the last six months.

Fuller paused and said, "Er, yes. But the point is, every management company is circling like vultures. It's outrageous the lengths to which people will go. CAA is offering to cut their commission to three percent."

"And you seriously think pimping me out is going to keep him?" Kris said.

"Oh, he told us it would," Fuller said helpfully.

"So I guess that makes me worth twenty million bucks to him," Kris said at dinner that night, a little defiantly. If Katy wanted to go to Japan and make her damn movie, fine, then.

"Oh my god, that's so sweet," Katy said, with a little catch in her voice. Kris decided girls were just weird and it was going to be great living with Adam, as soon as he explained sex was not on the menu and got his own bedroom.

He saw Katy off to the airport two days later. She cried a little, and hugged and kissed him a whole bunch, and then just as she got up to the boarding pass check she turned and kissed him again and then whispered quick in his ear, "Kris it's—it would be okay, if you wanted to—experiment." Then she kissed him again and whipped around fast before he could answer that, and was gone. There were ten paparazzi hovering around the gates like usual, so Kris couldn't even yell after her.

He pulled back up to the condo in time to see three moving trucks pulling away suspiciously fast. The front door was unlocked and standing ajar. The whole place was empty except for dustbunnies, his guitar case, and a key on the hall table with an address on the tag.

Kris called his lawyer. "Okay, this has to be over the line."

"Hmm," the lawyer said.

"They just stole all my stuff!"

"Is there any possibility that they could have had a legitimately obtained copy of the keys?"

Kris opened his mouth to say hell no, and then he remembered that 19E had found the condo for them. Patricia had given him the keys herself. "Never mind," he sighed and hung up. Maybe he'd take his guitar and run for it. Hell, he could busk for a living. If he went and set up on Rodeo Drive right now, he bet he could make enough cash to pay for a hostel bed tonight.

A huge crack of thunder sounded behind him through the open door, loud enough to make him jump, and Kris looked around to see rain pouring down in sheets. In L.A.

Adam's new new place was a crazy-ass rockstar mansion with two pools, a hot tub, seven bedrooms, and a master suite with a round double-king-size bed in silk sheets plus three walk-in closets. All of Kris's clothes filled maybe one half of one corner of one of the closets, which was about all the room left over.

One purple-sequined jacket had fallen down on the floor when the movers had put his stuff in. Kris left it there. He was feeling vengeful.

At least his beer was in the fridge. He took one out and sat down on the couch in the living room and noodled around on his guitar. He didn't really think it was going anywhere, though: my girl's in Tokyo and my best friend's managers are kidnapping me wasn't all that universal. It didn't do much good as venting, either, so when the car pulled into the driveway and he saw Adam talking on the phone, outside the door, Kris was about ready to lay into him.

He stood up as Adam opened the door and came in, saying, "Mom, I swear, I'm fine, I'm just so tired. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?" He had the phone jammed under one ear, a suit bag clutched against his chest and half under his jacket, and he was carrying a newspaper over his head. It hadn't done any good; he was dripping on the marble floor and when he dumped it on the floor it made a giant wet splat. The phone slipped out of his hand and smashed into three pieces.

"Fuck me," Adam said tiredly, letting his head fall back, and then he turned around and jumped. He stared. "Kris?"

"Uh, yeah," Kris said, sharply, because okay, it was one thing if Adam had pretty much sent his minions to get him Kris—not that that wasn't bad enough—but if he'd done it and forgotten

"Oh my God, they actually got you," Adam said, and burst into tears.

"Whoa," Kris said, because Adam hadn't ever been the weepy type. It wasn't like Kris didn't know what to do with the weepy type, though, seeing how his family was full of them, so he went over to pat Adam on the shoulder.

Adam dropped the suit bag on the floor and took Kris's face in both hands and kissed him. He was wet and cold, and smelled like airplane underneath, and his hands felt tacky from the soaked newsprint, and his mouth was hot and coffee-sour, and Kris was yanking at Adam's wet belt as fast as he could with shaking hands.

"Kris, Kris," Adam was saying, and he was pulling Kris's shirt up over his head, and Kris dragged him backwards into the living room. The guitar twanged a little as he shoved it out of the way to make room for them on the couch.

"I can't believe you sicced 19 on me," Kris said, with the part of his head not dealing with how Adam's jeans were plastered to his skin and not coming off, which was a serious fucking problem. He arched up groaning as Adam pushed his hips forward.

"I had to," Adam said, "Kris, I had to." He was licking Kris's neck and biting at his chin and sucking hot wet circles against his throat. He pushed up, panting. "It's okay, though, right? This is okay? You're staying?"

He sounded desperate. The heel of his palm kept rubbing slowly up and down Kris's dick, through his jeans, like Adam wasn't leaving anything to chance if he could help it. "Yeah," Kris managed thickly. "Yeah, I'm staying."

"Your contract's up in six months," Adam said, small and a little pathetic.

Kris swallowed. "I guess they'd better plan on signing me again," he said.

= End =


Kris stood up as Adam opened the door and came in, saying, "No, I don't have an umbrella, why would I have an umbrella! I'll call you tomorrow, okay?" He had the phone jammed under one ear, a suit bag clutched against his chest and half under his jacket, and he was carrying a newspaper over his head. It hadn't done any good; he was dripping on the marble floor , and his hair was this combination of plastered down and sticking up all over the place. He tossed his phone and keys into the basket by the door, dumped the wet newspaper on the floor with a splat, and held out the wet suit bag at arm's length. "Fuck me," he announced, and then turned around and jumped. "Kris?"

"Uh, yeah," Kris said, sharply, because okay, it was one thing if Adam had pretty much sent his minions to get him Kris—not that that wasn't bad enough—but if he'd done it and forgotten

"Oh my God, they actually got you!" Adam said excitedly, dropped the bag, and came right at him.

"Uhh—" Kris said, backing away, except he had to look back to avoid his guitar, and ended up pounced onto the couch by a hundred sixty pounds of wet rockstar.

"I have to have more faith in them!" Adam said, nuzzling in at Kris's neck. "I can't believe they pulled this off."

"They, what, I," Kris said feebly, waving his arms and legs around helplessly as a flipped turtle. Adam smelled like airplane and wet leather, and his dick was huge.

Adam sat up and shucked his jacket onto the coffee table, followed by his t-shirt. "Uh, Adam," Kris said, staring up at him, "We're not having sex."

"Oh, come on, we so are," Adam said, pausing with his hands on his belt.

"It's not in the contract!" Kris said.

Adam frowned like he was really puzzled. His eyeliner was running a little, drawing lines from the corners of his eyes, pulling them long. "You think we're going to sleep together and not have sex?"

"You freaking sicced 19 on my whole life!" Kris said. "You think I want to have sex with you after that?" Okay, so Kris kind of did, but there was a principle to be defended here.

"I'll make it up to you?" Adam offered, sly tilt of his head sideways, like he was offering up a secret. "With blowjobs?" He rolled his hips while he said it.

"No," Kris said. It came out kind of weakly. A blowjob sounded great.

"Please?" Adam said. He flipped up the hem of Kris's t-shirt and bent quick to nuzzle his cold nose against Kris's belly, breathing out hot to chase it. Kris gulped hard. "I give really amazing blowjobs."

Of course he did. "No," Kris said again, even more weakly.

Adam let out an unhappy groaning noise, his whole face pressed against Kris's stomach. His mouth was right over the top of Kris's button-fly. Kris tried not to thrust up. "Okay, I can be patient," Adam said, and sat up. "Have you seen the place? Is it amazing?"

"What?" Kris said, whiplashed away from impending blowjob.

Adam tugged him up and dragged him on a tour through the house, making little squeaky noises of glee every time he opened a closet or looked into a room. "Did you buy this place in five minutes or something?" Kris asked, limping after him. His jeans were way too tight right now.

"I've never been here before," Adam said. "19 got it for me while I was on tour!"

"Great," Kris said. "Just don't forget to change the locks."

They ransacked the fridge and pulled out piles of imported cold cuts and cheese and apples that someone had stocked, and Adam broke out a bottle of wine, and they ended up trading crazy tour stories over the table while it kept pouring outside, pattering comfortably on the deck in a way that sounded like home. Kris kept forgetting he was pissed-off at Adam, and by the time they got through most of the bottle, he was feeling warm and pretty happy. He'd missed Adam a lot.

"Okay, come on," Adam said finally, wrapping a hand around Kris's wrist, and pulled him upstairs back to the master bedroom.

Kris belatedly set his heels at the side of the bed. "I'm not getting naked," he said.

"I am!" Adam said.

His dick looked even bigger when he wasn't wearing anything. Kris tried not to look at it while he got into the bed on the other side in his t-shirt and boxers. The silk sheets were cool and slippery and distracting.

Adam turned off the lights and got into bed. Kris got ready to fend off a grab, but Adam didn't touch him. After a moment, he sighed deeply, and the bed shifted. "Mm," Adam said.

"You are not jerking off over there," Kris said.

"Oh I am," Adam said, low and breathily.

"I don't freaking believe you," Kris said.

"This is good," Adam said, sounding almost pained. "This is so good. Keep talking. Oh my God, this is so hot. I'm so glad we're waiting. Kris, are you hard?"

"Fuck you, seriously," Kris said devoutly, because yeah he was hard, no fucking kidding he was hard, Adam had taunted him with blowjobs and now this was some kind of phone sex except in the same room—same bed

"Mm, here," Adam said, and caught Kris's hand. He brought it to his mouth and licked the palm, one straight line up the middle broad and wet and sloppy.

"You're such a jerk," Kris said, and shoved his now-wet hand into his shorts and grabbed his dick. "Uhh. Fuck."

"I'm not," Adam said, panting, next to him. "I'm not, I just want you so much, Kris, oh my God, Kris," and he was rolling over and pinning Kris under him, wrapping his arms around him and nuzzling in, so eager, so hungry. Kris let Adam push his hands under his shirt and lift it off over his head, and then he was naked with Adam and it was good, it was better than good.

"Please?" Adam was saying in his ear, his hand sliding over Kris's on his cock, interlacing their fingers. "I promise, it'll be amazing."

"Fine," Kris said, as sulkily as he could manage while Adam was doing awesome things to his dick and snuggling him at the same time, "but my contract's up in six months. What're your evil minions gonna do then?"

Adam laughed and nibbled on his ear as his hand started to slide back and forth. "Baby, they have a renewal clause," he said.

= The End For Real =

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