Word Count: ~1,700
Summary: In which they fight all the time and Adam can’t cook
Author's Notes: I might have deviated a little bit from the original prompt. Big thanks to my wonderful beta who read this through
The first thing Kris notices about Adam are his eyes; the piercing, almost icy shade of blue that intrigues him. Then he notices his dramatic appearance; makeup done to perfection, hair slicked back in some kind of hairstyle Kris still can’t pronounce, and clothes that probably cost more than Kris’ monthly rent.
He would later learn that Adam’s dramatic appearance comes with a matching personality. Adam is one of the most capricious people he’s ever met. The things he would sometimes do, would drive Kris, who is actually a pretty laidback guy, crazy. So, naturally, people always wonder how come? How come they’re getting along? How come in spite of their many differences, they’re still together? How come Kris puts up with Adam’s antics? How come Adam settles for someone as plain and boring as Kris?
The strange thing is that, more often than not, Kris, too, asks himself these kind of questions. Sometimes he wonders why he plagues his soul with so many insecurities. Why he can’t just shrug everything off and pretend; pretend that everything is perfect between them, pretend that that he isn’t terrified of losing Adam for being too boring, pretend that no one judges them when they see how different they are from each other.
And today, more than ever, he wonders how come after three years and far too many fights and make-outs they’re still together. The things is, his relationship with Adam is like weather; it’s changing all the time, and most of the times, Kris doesn’t know what to expect. And maybe this should scare him, but for some unknown reason, these little fights anchor him. Kris knows that Adam’s volcanic personality extends to his love life as well. Adam has many opinions about many things, and although he wouldn’t admit it under pain of torture, he contradicts himself all the time. Kris likes to tease him about it, which naturally leads to screaming matches between the two of them. And still, Adam is one of the most loving boyfriends Kris ever had, and it’s a little bit strange because he’s also one of the most self-involved people Kris has ever met.
Today, however, Kris would have liked to just spend some good quality time with his boyfriend, without fights and drama. But of course that wasn’t possible. He doesn’t even remember what had triggered their latest fight, he doesn’t even think that’s important right now. It could have been yet another sarcastic comment Adam had made about Kris’ fashion sense, or lack thereof. It could have been another remark Kris had made about Adam’s shoes — they were purple with spikes and glitter so said remark was entirely legit.
The problem is that it’s Christmas Eve and even though Adam is Jewish and doesn’t celebrate Christmas, he always celebrated it with Kris. He always tells Kris that he loves Christmas because it’s the day when they first met. Kris thinks that’s bullshit. Adam just loves receiving gifts and decorating the Christmas tree with sparkly things that are a little bit too gaudy for Kris’ simple taste.
He thinks that maybe he might have overreacted a bit. After all, Adam was probably trying to be himself, which can be too much at times, but if Kris is truly honest with himself, he wouldn’t have Adam any other way. Which is why after a couple of hours of seething—silently, thank you very much. He’s not a drama queen like Adam—and bitching to his mom and Leila—completely legit bitching since, as stated above, Adam can be a little bit too much to handle—he finds himself at the front door of the apartment he shares with Adam, keys dangling in his hand, and nose red from the cold.
He unlocks the door and the first thing he feels is fear because there’s smoke and it smells like someone—Adam—has burnt the kitchen down.
“Adam?” He yells from the door step, not daring to advance further. “Are you alright?”
He hears something smashing on the floor and Adam cursing. “I’m in the kitchen.”
Kris swallows the lump in his throat and walks to where his suicidal boyfriend is. As slowly as possible, because, well, someone has to be cautious and if something explodes he can’t be caught off-guard. He’s not a coward, though. Nu-huh.
The image is faced with when he finally crosses the short, yet extremely long and agonizing distance from the hallway to the kitchen, is quite unexpected and, uh, funny? Yeah, funny is really the word to describe the state of Adam and their kitchen. It looks like Adam had fight with flour, and by the looks of it, the flour won hands down.
“Are you alright?” He asks, this time barely managing to compose himself. He thinks that is either a Christmas miracle or some kind of mirage, because really, Adam in the kitchen is not something you see every day.
Adam shakes his head, hands dangling to his side in defeat. And the strange and probably sad thing is that in this moment Kris can’t even remember why he was mad at Adam in the first place, why he gets mad at Adam on a daily basis. He loves him, stupidly and pathetically so.
“Who taught you to turn on the oven?”
“Mom.” Adam replies, biting his upper lip, looking at Kris in that way that always made him go weak in his knees.
“Hmm, I don’t think she taught you right.”
“She did. It worked with her. Things got bad only after she left. I told you before, this kitchen hates my guts.”
“That’s because you ignore it all the times.”
“I eat here.”
Kris laughs. Adam never uses the kitchen. He usually eats in the living room because he doesn’t want to get fat. Kris never understood the connection between eating in the living room and not getting fat, but what does he know after all?
“So, uh—“ He starts, scratching his head. “What were you trying to do?”
“Well,” Adam’s face lights up, like he’s a kid on Christmas Eve—well he kind of is ”Cookies! I was trying to surprise you and apologize for yelling at you. You had a point. You are more important than a stupid shirt. It was Dior and I paid a shitload of money for it, but I can always get another one—in a year or two.” Oh yeah, now Kris remembers what had started it all. He spilled bleach on Adam’s red shirt—unintentionally. Adam called him a troglodyte, and Kris called him selfish and shallow. Nothing new.
“I’m sorry about your shirt.”
“Eh, I didn’t like it anyway.” Adam smiles, running a hand through his hair.
Kris narrows his eyes in response. Adam loved that shirt. He wore it all the time. “Not as much as I like you, anyway.”
“I like you more than your shirt, too.”
Adam laughs. “You never liked my shirt.” He waves his hands in the air, like he’s trying to emphasize his words. Kris never understood why Adam always did that. It’s just so distracting and it doesn’t prove any point.
“So, anyway, I wanted to surprise you and I know that you like your mother’s sugar cookies and I figured I could bake some cookies for you. You know, like an apology. And I swear I did everything like your mother told me, but something went wrong along the way. I think it was something wrong with the flour. I managed to get everything under control eventually—sort of—the flour in my head is a good proof of my struggle and dedication. You should appreciate it.” He looks at Kris for a second, probably because he forgot his idea, then, quite unexpectedly, he starts again. “I put the cookies in the oven, but I think the setting was too high or I might have forgotten about them. I’m not really sure right now. But at some point, like an hour later, I smelled smoke, and I ran to the kitchen and uh—yeah, cookies were burned. But they’re completely edible. I tried them myself and they don’t taste so bad. They’re overly crispy with a flavor of smoke. Delicious.”
And as if to convince Kris of the veracity of his words, Adam presents him said cookies. Kris is not an ungrateful person, but he’s kind of afraid to taste Adam’s cooking.
“They look good.” He says, trying to gain some time and build up some courage.
“I saved the best ones for you. These ones were not as burnt as the ones that I tasted so they might taste better.”
Kris can’t really resist Adam’s words and if he’ll get food poisoning from Adam’s cooking, then it will probably be worth it. Adam did all this for him, so the least he can do is taste these goddamn cookies and hope for the best. Surprisingly, it doesn’t taste that bad. It tastes like love and Christmas.
“They’re really good.”
Adam’s face lights up as he hears Kris. “Really?”
“Yay! Merry Christmas, Kris.”
“Merry Christmas to you, too.” He replies, producing a small box from his pocket. “I know I’m not the most stylish person in the world, but I saw this a while ago and I immediately thought of you.” He doesn’t mention that he’d been looking for the perfect gift for months and months. That’s quite irrelevant right now.
“It’s a pendant with my zodiac sign!” Adam says as he opens the box. “It’s probably the best gift I’ve ever received and I know I said the same thing last year, and the year before, but it’s the truth. You could have gotten me a plaid shirt and I would have still considered it the best thing ever.”
It should be a little lame how his heart swells as he hears Adam’s words. They never say ‘I love you’; never call each other pet names, and they fight all the time, but Kris knows that their love for each other is the only constant in their relationship.
He takes another cookie and smiles as he hugs Adam. Yeah, tastes like Christmas set on fire and that’s kind of perfect.