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kat_lair***
Title: Herald
Author:kat_lair
Fandom: American Idol RPF
Pairing: Adam/Kris or Adam & Kris
Tags: Spooktober, Ficlet, Gen or Pre-Slash, Alternative Universe - Creatures & Monsters
Rating: G
Word count: 935
Summary: A slow, ululating sound is drifting in from the apartment. It starts so low Kris’ skin registers it before his ears do, all the hairs on his arms standing up. It feels like someone raking cold, dead fingers overs his back. There’s an odd, jarring rhythm to the sound, full of sorrow and pain and loneliness that crescendos into a wail so high and sharp it seems to pierce his skull. Kris’ hands fly up to his ears, until he’s clutching his whole head between his arms, teeth gritted together, strange colours dancing across his vision.
Author notes: Spooktober 2024, Day 18/31. Prompt/theme: Scream.
Herald on AO3
“Seven-hundred-sixteen, seven-hundred-seventeen, seven-hundred-eighteen… Aha! Seven-hundred-nineteen!” Kris points at the door in triumph and then gives himself a few seconds to get his breath back properly. He’s in pretty good shape – you have to be in his line of work – but climbing seven floors, twice since he’d gotten the wrong fucking building first, at a brisk pace is still enough to make sweat spring at the small of his back. Especially in this heat. There was an elevator but everything about it had screamed ‘death-trap’ at Kris so he’d not risked it.
He knocks on the door. Waits. Knocks again, louder and longer this time.
Still nothing. Goddammit, had he climbed all those stairs only for this guy not even be home?
Kris is just about to give up when he hears it.
A slow, ululating sound is drifting in from the apartment. It starts so low Kris’ skin registers it before his ears do, all the hairs on his arms standing up. It feels like someone raking cold, dead fingers overs his back. There’s an odd, jarring rhythm to the sound, full of sorrow and pain and loneliness that crescendos into a wail so high and sharp it seems to pierce his skull. Kris’ hands fly up to his ears, until he’s clutching his whole head between his arms, teeth gritted together, strange colours dancing across his vision.
Jesus. He can see why the neighbours had called this in.
The scream goes on and on for what seems like hours but can’t be more than five minutes, and then… It cuts off suddenly, as if severed by a knife. Kris grimaces. He knows why the person in apartment seven-hundred-and-nineteen has been screaming. He knows why he’s stopped. Neither of those are happy reasons.
But they are why he’s here.
Kris gives it a few minutes and then knocks again.
This time, there’s a shuffle of steps, someone walking with great reluctance, or with great exhaustion – Kris would bet a lot of money it’s both – and then a rattle of a lock being opened.
The person behind the door is taller than Kris had expected. His hair is black but dull, long in a way that suggests lack of care rather than a fashion choice. He’s wearing a ruby red jacket that skims his knees, and somewhere underneath the irritation and bloodshot eyes and the bruised skin under them, he is gorgeous. That too, is not something Kris had expected.
“You can’t save me,” says the half-banshee-third-fae-third-plain-old-human. His throat sounds sore. “So don’t bother trying.”
Kris blinks. “What?”
The… Adam, Kris mentally corrects himself – best get used to it now, he hopes to be saying it a lot in the future after all – rolls his eyes. “I’m not interested in your religion,” he says, slowly as if to a toddler. “Please leave.”
“I’m not here to save you.” Kris pulls the collar of his shirt down, enough to reveal the tattoo hiding underneath, crossbow within a flame, the deep orange of it still bright after all these years. The never dimming fire.
“Hunter,” Adam breathes, and Kris has heard the fear before from other people’s mouths, the awe too, but the resignation… That’s new. The emotions play across Adam’s face in span of seconds, until his features settle into something like… Relief?
“Can I fix my outfit first?” he asks. “Face too, if you’re feeling magnanimous.” He doesn’t sound like he expects the answer to be yes.
Kris has absolutely no idea what he’s even asking for. “Your outfit? What for?” It’s a bit scruffy and dramatic sure, but not like Kris is here to hire a model, even though the guy’s features could probably score him a gig on the runway if he was so inclined. “And your…” Kris circles a finger over his own face illustratively, “looks fine. Great. Like maybe you could use a nap or something but…” He forces himself to stop babbling before he embarrasses himself any more.
It's Adam’s turn to stare uncomprehendingly. Something in him seems to shake awake suddenly and he straightens from his slump, crosses his arms and narrows his eyes at Kris and oh. Oh wow. Kris sure can see the fae ancestry now.
“You’re not here to kill me,” Adam says. It’s a statement, not a question.
Kris boggles. “Kill you? What…? No! Why would you think that?”
“Why would I…?” Adam laughs. It’s not exactly a happy sound. “The neighbours clearly finally got enough of the, you know.” He points at his throat. “And called a hunter on my ass. Why else would you be here?”
“Uhh, yeah, we did get an anonymous tip of a banshee ‘disturbing the peace’ but it said nothing about killing you. And, you know, since it also included your very male name, I did some research because you obviously couldn’t be a full banshee and, well…” Kris trails off, shrugging.
“Right.” Adam regards him like he’s the strangest thing he’s ever seen. “So, you’ve drawn out my whole sordid family tree, every weird and wonderful branch of it but you’re not here to try to exorcise the devil out of me or stick an arrow into me,” he summarises.
Kris gives him double thumbs up like an absolute dork. It’s worth it though, for the way something tight and wary in Adam’s eyes softens.
“What the fuck are you doing here then, hunter?” he asks.
Kris straightens his spine, puts on his most sincere expression. He’s got a lot riding on this, more than Adam can ever know. “I’m here to recruit you,” he says. “If you’re interested.”
***
Title: Herald
Author:
kat_lair Fandom: American Idol RPF
Pairing: Adam/Kris or Adam & Kris
Tags: Spooktober, Ficlet, Gen or Pre-Slash, Alternative Universe - Creatures & Monsters
Rating: G
Word count: 935
Summary: A slow, ululating sound is drifting in from the apartment. It starts so low Kris’ skin registers it before his ears do, all the hairs on his arms standing up. It feels like someone raking cold, dead fingers overs his back. There’s an odd, jarring rhythm to the sound, full of sorrow and pain and loneliness that crescendos into a wail so high and sharp it seems to pierce his skull. Kris’ hands fly up to his ears, until he’s clutching his whole head between his arms, teeth gritted together, strange colours dancing across his vision.
Author notes: Spooktober 2024, Day 18/31. Prompt/theme: Scream.
Herald on AO3
“Seven-hundred-sixteen, seven-hundred-seventeen, seven-hundred-eighteen… Aha! Seven-hundred-nineteen!” Kris points at the door in triumph and then gives himself a few seconds to get his breath back properly. He’s in pretty good shape – you have to be in his line of work – but climbing seven floors, twice since he’d gotten the wrong fucking building first, at a brisk pace is still enough to make sweat spring at the small of his back. Especially in this heat. There was an elevator but everything about it had screamed ‘death-trap’ at Kris so he’d not risked it.
He knocks on the door. Waits. Knocks again, louder and longer this time.
Still nothing. Goddammit, had he climbed all those stairs only for this guy not even be home?
Kris is just about to give up when he hears it.
A slow, ululating sound is drifting in from the apartment. It starts so low Kris’ skin registers it before his ears do, all the hairs on his arms standing up. It feels like someone raking cold, dead fingers overs his back. There’s an odd, jarring rhythm to the sound, full of sorrow and pain and loneliness that crescendos into a wail so high and sharp it seems to pierce his skull. Kris’ hands fly up to his ears, until he’s clutching his whole head between his arms, teeth gritted together, strange colours dancing across his vision.
Jesus. He can see why the neighbours had called this in.
The scream goes on and on for what seems like hours but can’t be more than five minutes, and then… It cuts off suddenly, as if severed by a knife. Kris grimaces. He knows why the person in apartment seven-hundred-and-nineteen has been screaming. He knows why he’s stopped. Neither of those are happy reasons.
But they are why he’s here.
Kris gives it a few minutes and then knocks again.
This time, there’s a shuffle of steps, someone walking with great reluctance, or with great exhaustion – Kris would bet a lot of money it’s both – and then a rattle of a lock being opened.
The person behind the door is taller than Kris had expected. His hair is black but dull, long in a way that suggests lack of care rather than a fashion choice. He’s wearing a ruby red jacket that skims his knees, and somewhere underneath the irritation and bloodshot eyes and the bruised skin under them, he is gorgeous. That too, is not something Kris had expected.
“You can’t save me,” says the half-banshee-third-fae-third-plain-old-human. His throat sounds sore. “So don’t bother trying.”
Kris blinks. “What?”
The… Adam, Kris mentally corrects himself – best get used to it now, he hopes to be saying it a lot in the future after all – rolls his eyes. “I’m not interested in your religion,” he says, slowly as if to a toddler. “Please leave.”
“I’m not here to save you.” Kris pulls the collar of his shirt down, enough to reveal the tattoo hiding underneath, crossbow within a flame, the deep orange of it still bright after all these years. The never dimming fire.
“Hunter,” Adam breathes, and Kris has heard the fear before from other people’s mouths, the awe too, but the resignation… That’s new. The emotions play across Adam’s face in span of seconds, until his features settle into something like… Relief?
“Can I fix my outfit first?” he asks. “Face too, if you’re feeling magnanimous.” He doesn’t sound like he expects the answer to be yes.
Kris has absolutely no idea what he’s even asking for. “Your outfit? What for?” It’s a bit scruffy and dramatic sure, but not like Kris is here to hire a model, even though the guy’s features could probably score him a gig on the runway if he was so inclined. “And your…” Kris circles a finger over his own face illustratively, “looks fine. Great. Like maybe you could use a nap or something but…” He forces himself to stop babbling before he embarrasses himself any more.
It's Adam’s turn to stare uncomprehendingly. Something in him seems to shake awake suddenly and he straightens from his slump, crosses his arms and narrows his eyes at Kris and oh. Oh wow. Kris sure can see the fae ancestry now.
“You’re not here to kill me,” Adam says. It’s a statement, not a question.
Kris boggles. “Kill you? What…? No! Why would you think that?”
“Why would I…?” Adam laughs. It’s not exactly a happy sound. “The neighbours clearly finally got enough of the, you know.” He points at his throat. “And called a hunter on my ass. Why else would you be here?”
“Uhh, yeah, we did get an anonymous tip of a banshee ‘disturbing the peace’ but it said nothing about killing you. And, you know, since it also included your very male name, I did some research because you obviously couldn’t be a full banshee and, well…” Kris trails off, shrugging.
“Right.” Adam regards him like he’s the strangest thing he’s ever seen. “So, you’ve drawn out my whole sordid family tree, every weird and wonderful branch of it but you’re not here to try to exorcise the devil out of me or stick an arrow into me,” he summarises.
Kris gives him double thumbs up like an absolute dork. It’s worth it though, for the way something tight and wary in Adam’s eyes softens.
“What the fuck are you doing here then, hunter?” he asks.
Kris straightens his spine, puts on his most sincere expression. He’s got a lot riding on this, more than Adam can ever know. “I’m here to recruit you,” he says. “If you’re interested.”
***