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.
"...it 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 =
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