Apples Are Not The Only Fruit by Bexless
http://www.waxjism.org/bex/ai01_apples.html

Local woman wins pie contest! Adam Lambert assists.

AU Moviestar!Adam/CountryBoy!Kris

The first thing Kris saw was the car.

Local woman wins pie contest! Adam Lambert assists. An AU. NC-17

[AU where Adam is a movie star.]

23,000 words. Local woman wins pie contest! Adam Lambert assists.

The first thing Kris saw was the car. It was huge, and really shiny, and it had clouds of steam billowing out from under the hood. The second thing Kris saw was the guy standing in front of it, with his hands on his hips and a helpless expression on his face.

Local woman wins pie contest! Adam Lambert assists. An AU.

"He was twenty-two years old, and the only thing he knew about himself for sure was that he was never getting on a motorcycle again, but he kind of wanted to write a song about it. He could already hear the melody in his head." Kris gets lost, and Adam finds him. An amnesia AU. OR IS IT.

Kris with amnesia.

He was twenty-two years old, and the only thing he knew about himself for sure was that he was never getting on a motorcycle again, but he kind of wanted to write a song about it. He could already hear the melody in his head. Kris gets lost, and Adam finds him. An amnesia AU. OR IS IT.

heck yes AUs. Kris gets amnesia, Adam works in a coffee shop.

He was twenty-two years old, and the only thing he knew about himself for sure was that he was never getting on a motorcycle again, but he kind of wanted to write a song about it. He could already hear the melody in his head. Kris gets lost, and Adam finds him. An amnesia AU. OR IS IT. -- loved this, captures that feeling of being lost

Summary: He was twenty-two years old, and the only thing he knew about himself for sure was that he was never getting on a motorcycle again, but he kind of wanted to write a song about it. He could already hear the melody in his head. Kris gets lost, and Adam finds him. An amnesia AU. OR IS IT. |__| This is beautiful, and heart achey, and lovely.

Kris gets lost and Adam finds him.

Kris needs someone to take care of him on tour. Adam is fabulous in many ways. And sometimes things are what they look like.

(Caution/explanation: Real people used in a fictional context. Nobody thinks this is actually true. No insult or harm intended.) Tour wives and lonely sheep. This fic makes me very happy, and even though I don't usually like stories where there's outright infidelity, this is handled very well. [lj comm]

Summary: Kris needs someone to take care of him on tour. Adam is fabulous in many ways. And sometimes things are what they look like.

8,550 words | Kris needs someone to take care of him on tour. Adam is fabulous in many ways. And sometimes things are what they look like.

JUST ONE SHEEEEEEEEEEP Oh BOYS. So sweet and then it swings into smokin' hot and it really is what it looks like. GUH.

*high pitched humming sound goes here!*

Adam volunteers to be Kris' tour wife, things progress farther than they were supposed to.

Adam was already pretty much asleep, the weed swapping their places around for once; Kris felt completely zen, weightless, but sleep wasn't coming. He kept petting Adam, just enjoying skin on skin, and Adam snuggled in closer and slid a hand under his t-shirt. Kris shifted his weight, and between them they got the shirt off him. And apparently, a little while after that it seemed to them like a great idea to get all the way naked and cuddle up some more, because that was how they woke up a few hours later.

It just wasn't like that.

Summary: "That night after the show, by way of thanks, the roadies broke out their personal stash of weed. Kris would have given it a miss and just hung out, except Danny pulled a little freak-out, standing up fast and heading away over to the far side of the room, couple of the roadies rolling their eyes at his back. At that point, Kris figured it would've looked like a statement, and one he wasn't interested in making, so when Adam handed over the bong, Kris pulled in a long, sweet-smoky breath before handing it back."

It really wasn't like that.

"It's really not like that," Adam said. "Yeah, I see you fighting off that eyeroll, but it's really not. Nothing is going on." "Adam," Lil said, "I hate to tell you this, but something is going on, and it really is like that."

Kradam

4,500 words | It just wasn't like that.

(Caution/explanation: Real people used in a fictional context. Nobody thinks this is actually true. No insult or harm intended.) They find themselves saying "It's not like that" quite a bit... [author website]

Kris, Adam, weed)))

Their relationship isn't like that, or maybe it is

"The three things I want most out of life right now are a steak, a joint, and sleeping in until five in the afternoon, and I refuse to delay just to argue with the unenlightened."

"I hate to say this," Adam said thoughtfully, "but it's possible that maybe it is like that." "Yeah," Kris said.

Some days, Adam forgets it's over

set in these weeks after the finale. some days, adam forgets it's over.

Some days, Adam forgets it's over. He'll be driving to lunch, to the dry cleaner's, to the fucking dentist's office, and a vertical wave of panic will hit him all at once, from the top of his spine to the pit of his gut, so bad that he almost has to pull over. He'll check his rearview mirror for sirens, his back pocket for his wallet, his cell phone for missed calls from his parents at some imagined emergency room. His ears ring; his hands shake. He forces his jaw to unclench in stages.

Some days, Adam forgets it's over.

Terribly beautiful, in all senses. In which Adam is free, Kris is... not, and nothing is resolved, but things are better than they were. Oh, some of the description is just perfect and I am perfectly jealous...

American Idol 8, RPS, Kris/Adam. Unresolved tension over the phone remains unresolved. Unhappy, angsty fic. Good tho.

Tomorrow, he thinks, he'll vacuum. He'll take out his trash, change his sheets and stay in the bath long enough that every kink in his shoulders unfolds. He'll go to the farmer's market and get himself dinner, something he can eat with his hands. He'll donate twenty bucks from his pocket to ASPCA, and go home with a potted plant -- African violets, like Allison's mom had in her bedroom in the mansion. And when he gets home, he'll put them on the windowsill over his desk, where they'll get the best light in the afternoon. He won't give them a name, but he'll water them, and he'll talk to them, and when he lies down, he'll be able to see them and know that they're okay.

"Tell me," Adam says, "you'll have me sleep in your bed when mine's covered in clothes, and you'll talk on national television about how much you love me, and you'll call me and say that I'm the only thing in your life that makes any sense anymore, and I'm the one who just crossed the line."