[spn_j2_bigbang fic]: Wings, Rings and Interspecies Flings - NC-17 - 5/6

[ladyknightanka]

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Chapter Five: The Fine Art of Nesting

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Adam had died, initially, at the start of his third semester. His birthday had just barely passed in September, October drawing closer with its holidays of old, when he got the call about his mother missing work for almost three days, which left him terrified and rushing home, only to be devoured by something that bore her face. It wasn't exactly the best way to end any experience.

The one positive, however, was that the classes he now had were a repeat of the ones he hadn't had the chance to finish, so he was ahead of the rest of his classmates in his coursework. Of course, he'd been ahead then, too, being what his friends had always called a nerd, and it might have been nice to finish school without all of that horror movie drama, but he'd take what he could get.

The professor of his first class, anatomy, was new to the university himself and impressed by Adam's knowledge of the body, which carried over to the already friendly class. It was a nice pick up after the way the morning had started, and while his history class was looking to be a bit dry, Adam was genuinely glad and couldn't wait to tell Michael so, especially after he'd spent all the dull periods of the day filling the pages of his new notebooks with doodles of the archangel's wings, nowhere near as beautiful as the original models.

He caught one of the shuttle buses that departed from the university campus and stopped at the small ice cream parlor a few blocks from his house, recalling his promise, where he purchased two small cones and sprinted the rest of the way home with them dripping all over his fingers under the still sweltering September sun.

When he slid to a stop in front of their welcome mat, which had a small devil's trap painted under it, Michael instantly opened the door. Grateful that he wouldn't have to knock with both his hands full, Adam handed him the vanilla cone, then immediately grasped his wrist.

“Come on,” he began bossily, although it didn't usually take much prodding for the angel to succumb to his whims.

“Where?” Michael asked, so frazzled that he hadn't had the chance to lick his ice cream yet.

Adam slowed down a bit, not wanting the sidewalk to end up painted with the archangel's favorite treat, and said, “The Holmes are having a pet adoption event. We might be able to find you a friend there.” Michael's expression immediately became stormy, but before he could protest, Adam added, “I-I've always kinda wanted a pet. Mom was allergic so we couldn't have one before.”

It wasn't a complete lie, but if Michael believed it meant a lot to him, he'd back down at once, and Adam wouldn't have to feel bad about taking advantage of him if they actually did find something he could keep company with. The archangel was always trying to make him happy, and if he could return the favor, Adam would truly be pleased.

“I suppose a pet might be nice,” Michael yielded, finally dipping his head to catch the cream that trickled to meet the skin between his thumb and fingers.

Adam followed the motion, swallowing the cold lump of chocolate on his tongue, then looked away, fixing a smirk onto his soiled lips. “'Sides,” he began facetiously, “Jenny can really bake. You can at least get a cookie or two to go with that ice cream.” Predictably, his favorite warrior of the Lord perked up, and Adam laughed as they closed in on the Holmes' residence, number one hundred and nine.

Right in front of it, he stopped, finishing off the last of his cone. With balloons tied to the bannisters around the stairs and a colorful sign that read 'go around back, adopt a pet', it should have been a cheerful place. Its inhabitants were always sweet, whenever Adam met them during his morning runs or if they stopped by to drop something off at his place, but it always gave him the heebie-jeebies.

“Bad things happened here,” Michael said, in all but a whisper, and Adam's eyes flashed to his face, the air around them becoming tense. “But that was almost twenty eight years ago, not now. That spirit has since been put to rest.”

“Y-you sure?” Adam asked. He loved it here, in this idyllic little town, but the kind neighbors and cookie-cutter houses could never dispel the memories - the nightmares - of the world that coexisted with this one, that he never wanted to be a part of again, if at all possible.

The angel wasn't given more than a chance to nod before a small figure barreled toward them. He forwent talking to step protectively in front of Adam, but the human only shot him an amused look before bending to catch Ritchie Holmes around the waist.

“Hiya, Mr. Milligan!” the little boy started breathlessly. “Why are you guys standin' out here for? Who's he? Will you take home a pet? I want a doggie, but Sari's stupid cat, Chester, doesn't like sharing us.”

Adam laughed at his incessant array of inquiries, then said, “This is Michael. He's my...friend.”

“Your best friend?” Ritchie pressed, his big brown eyes latching curiously onto the discomfited archangel. At Adam's hesitant nod, his tiny face broke out into a huge grin. “I have a best friend, too. His name's Stevie and we met in kindergarten!” He couldn't quite pronounce the word properly yet and it was very cute, earning him an even bigger smile as Adam took his small hand, his free one reaching for Michael's, and tugged the two of them into Ritchie's yard.

Jenny was on the ground, picking up a crumbled crispy rice treat while chastising a gaggle of children even younger than her son, telling them not to feed the pets with people-food.

Adam cleared his throat and she whipped around. “Oh, hello,” she said, looking between them and her bouncing son, who ran forward and hugged her legs. She pet his hair lovingly, but didn't remove her prying gaze from Michael.

“That's Mr. Milligan's best friend,” Ritchie informed her. “His name's Mr. Michael.”

“I-it's really nice to meet you,” Jenny murmured, blinking at them from behind coy lashes.

Michael cocked his head at her in his customary alien way, until Adam elbowed him, at which point he said, “The pleasure is mine. And I prefer my name without honorifics.”

“Just Michael, then,” she returned, her pretty face glowing, before she stepped out of the way to give her guests a thorough range of her yard. Her daughter was chatting animatedly with a few of her girlfriends at a table near the porch, and other pieces of fold-out furniture occupied the yard, with cages of animals sitting on top of them. Across from Sari's station was a final one, nearly pressed up against the neighboring fence, that had a few pitchers of lemonade and platters of treats on it.

Adam appraised everything and whistled. “Wow, you guys did a great job. What badge is it for: first aid to animals or is it one of the rescue badges?”

Jenny's eyes went round, then crinkled in amusement. “You really were a boyscout!” she exclaimed, as if she couldn't quite imagine him in that post.

“Yup, scout's honor,” Adam answered proudly, lifting his arm to do the signature oath. She giggled and he narrowed his eyes at her. “Hey, being a scout really is cool, and lemme tell you, I've got the legs for it.” He shook one of said jean-clad legs and winked, incurring more laughter, particularly since Michael played along and nodded sincerely alongside him.

“Okay then, you've convinced me and the kids,” Jenny said, upon catching her breath. She glanced around at the array of cacophonous creatures and her smile softened. “There are a lot of mistreated animals, both housebroken and wild, in Douglas County, so the boy and girl scouts are teaming up for events like this to raise money for shelters or find them good homes. I'm only one of the den mothers, but the only one in Lawrence, and a lot of these little guys have been adopted already. Mrs. Carter took home three dalmatian pups - one for each triplet - and it feels really nice to know that they're in good hands.”

“Well, we can't take three,” Adam stated, casing the cages himself, “but we wouldn't mind helping out, if we can.”

Jenny nodded gratefully. “That would be perfect! I'll be over there, with Sari, if anything catches your eye.” She waved cheerily and left them to their observations, while Adam pulled Michael along by the hand he still held deeper into the fray.

“She seems rather pleasant,” the angel said, too quietly for any of the people around them to hear, partly due to their own rowdiness.

“Yeah, she really is. She reminds me of my mom,” Adam murmured, as he stopped in front of a cage of gerbils, propped next to another with hamsters. He watched as Michael curiously inserted his finger between the bars, only for the chubby creatures to sniff it, before he squeezed the archangel's wrist to get his attention. Ever since he saw Willard, rats and their ilk sort of freaked him out, so much so that he couldn't even get through Ratatouille without shuddering at least once. Ugh, creepy crawlies.

Michael followed him, patient as always, and they slowly explored the whole yard, from the buffet to get his promised cookies to everything else, before Adam knelt purposefully in front of a handful of puppies, a few still remaining, till he was eye to eye with a chocolate colored Labrador with big, floppy ears, a bandage on one overgrown paw and a tail that wagged excitedly whenever she caught sight of a certain heavenly being.

“You want her?” Michael inquired, squinting at her analytically as her tongue lolled. “Are you certain you wouldn't prefer that fair-furred tabby?”

“No,” Adam answered with irritation, nursing his palm, now adorned with a unicorn bandage courtesy of Sari, with a frown. “That little monster may be cute, but he took a chunk outta me. He'd be a total bitch to take care of.”

“Ah, so he's a bit too much like you,” the angel theorized, bemused. “Truthfully, that's why I liked him.”

“Ha ha,” Adam deadpanned, before the corner of his mouth quirked up in a smirk. “I want this puppy because she loves you. You'll be even more precious with a tiny sidekick shadowing you and I'll be entertained, which is what matters the most, in the end.”

Michael merely sighed, unaffected by his mocking, and lifted the top of the cage. All the puppies yipped excitably, some backing away in fear, but the little brown Lab eyed him without surprise and even jumped into his waiting arms. Adam laughed at her conduct and scratched her behind one large ear, then pulled his hand back, not wanting to get bitten again, when it became apparent she didn't extend the same trust to him.

“And he was gonna trade you up for the cat,” he grumbled at her, as they drew closer to the Holmes' table, where Ritchie currently played crossed-legged with his toy cars, his mother and sister still handling the remaining paperwork. The sky above was a deep, pinkish color that signaled night was close to falling, and the yard was now almost empty, apart from them.

“You found one!” Sari exclaimed blithely.

Ritchie glanced up at her shout and temporarily paused in making his 'vroom' noises, two small police cars in each of his upraised fists, to cheer, “You picked Sammie!”

“S-Sammie?” Adam mimed, nearly choking on the word, as the little girl handed him a handmade birth-certificate that proclaimed as much in a bright spectrum of colors.

Jenny was staring at Michael in awe. “Yes, Sammie,” she murmured. “She was actually the pet of one of our former neighbors, but when Mr. Patton left, he abandoned the poor thing in the unsold house and she had to break out or starve. I-I hadn't thought she'd be ready for a new master, but she must sense how kind a soul you have, Michael.”

Before the angel could protest and reveal he didn't have a soul, at least in the traditional sense, Adam interjected with, “He can be a jerk sometimes, but...he really is the kindest person I know.”

Michael's hazel eyes grew large in surprise, while Sammie lovingly licked his fingers, further attesting to the compliment.

“Thank you,” he said silently, not looking away from the furry crown that rested on his bicep, and Adam took in the sight affectionately.

Jenny was staring at the archangel, too, but when her daughter touched her arm and offered her a reassuring smile, she came out of her stupor and declared, “I'm...really thirsty. A little hungry, too.”

Both of her guests examined her, confused, but she only had eyes for Michael. After a moment, Ritchie said, “Mommy wants to go to the café with Mr. Michael. She likes-likes him.”

“R-Ritchie!” Jenny sputtered, her face flushing. Her hopeful eyes, however, remained riveted on the former holy general.

“Oh,” Adam whispered, biting his lip, his own eyes locked on the ground, looking anywhere but at Michael. He didn't know why he was surprised, or even why he suddenly felt like he'd throw up, and he had half a mind to tell his roommate that, since it meant he'd want to go home at once so he could start fussing. Instead, he took a deep breath a said, “You should take her, Mike. It's pretty late a-and you really shouldn't eat nothing but junk food.” Never mind that he'd done as much himself.

The archangel frowned at him. “Maybe I shouldn't,” Jenny replied. “I couldn't leave the kids alone, could I? Unless you'd babysit?” She leveled Adam with her pleading stare.

“Mom!” Sari complained, standing up and stamping her foot. “I'm almost fifteen, not that much younger than Adam! Don't call me a baby around him!”

If Adam was being attentive, he'd notice how the teenager was, for the first time, calling him by his first name, or the way she kept glancing at him furtively, as expectant as her mother, and while he might have previously found it somewhat cute, he didn't have it in him to care at the moment.

“Okay,” he said quietly, lips curving into a stiff grimace. “You two have fun. The kids and I will.”

Jenny beamed at him appreciatively and rushed into the house, perhaps to quickly fix her hair or grab a sweater.

Michael watched her go with a bemused expression, then asked, “Why won't you join us?”

“'Cause I'm babysitting,” Adam answered coolly, unaware of how Sari's face fell or how Ritchie crowed in glee. He took the puppy from Michael and directed the kids to go inside, sparing the silhouette of their home one last forlorn glance, remembering that bad feeling it had given him earlier, and ignoring the angel all the while.

“Thank you, Adam,” Jenny said, as she dashed past him while fiddling with the straps on her high-heeled sandals. “It's been such a long time since I did anything like this.”

“No problem,” he muttered, only after the door slammed behind her, before he took a seat on the couch and listened as Ritchie began to prattle about the funny man from the shelter who'd be picking up the rest of the animals.

Said man arrived about twenty minutes later, and Ritchie began yawning soon after that, prompting Adam to coerce him into going to sleep, Sammie tailing him up to his room. His sister had run up to hers as soon as they entered the house, but since she was still giggling on her phone - and he could, if he muted the television, hear his own name mentioned more than once - he figured it was okay to let her stay up.

With the children tied up, he had nothing more to do but watch stupid talk-shows. Either that or think, which he honestly didn't want to do, since every epiphany he'd have would inevitably lead to him berating himself for being a dumbass.

At exactly midnight, the lock in the front door clicked open, keys jangling outside it, and Adam blinked blearily at Jenny's shadowed figure as she stepped into the foyer.

“Thanks again, sweetie,” she murmured, standing in front of the couch he was sprawled on. Adam scrutinized her face, trying and failing to ascertain whether her hair was mussed or her lips were bruised, sure signs of his archangel losing a bit of his innocence, but it was too dark.

After stretching his arms behind his back and yawning, Adam said, “It's cool. Um, really, it is. Did you...have a good time?”

Jenny tilted her head at him, wearing a quirky, cryptic smile, then asked, “Do you know he's in love with you?”

“W-what?” Adam exclaimed, startled out of his tired stupor. Now, he was glad for the darkness, because it hid how his embarrassed face positively glowed.

Jenny inclined her head, taking a seat next to him. “The whole time, all he talked about was you, how you'd react to things we saw. I don't think his heart was in our date at all, if he even knew it was a date.”

“So you...” Adam began, before hesitating. “I don't know what to say, honestly. I'm - I guess I'm just really sorry for coming between you, Jen.”

“No, it's okay,” she replied, laughing lightly and touching his arm. “I only met him today, Adam. Wouldn't it be stupid of me to fall for him so quickly?” Her expression became contemplative, more amused than upset. “I'm not usually bold enough to ask someone out so quickly, especially since I saw the way he was looking at you in the backyard, but... Well, he's a beautiful man, so I took a chance.

Adam chuckled, feeling a bit less awkward. “Yeah, he's totally hot,” he agreed cautiously.

Jenny gave him the look that moms everywhere had perfected - the one that screamed 'don't you pull that B.S. with me, young man'. “So you noticed that and, judging by your look of satisfaction, you're glad things didn't work out, am I right?” she wondered, crossing her arms in a no nonsense way.

“Oh no, of course not!” Adam replied quickly, gesticulating with his hands, but she laughed again, dismissing his panic.

“As I said, I'm not mad. I know I must seem old to you, with two growing kids, but I'm not desperate either. I'm just-” She frowned at him for a moment, then continued, “-trying to figure out why you told him to go, if neither of you wanted him to?”

Adam leaned back against her sofa cushions with an exhausted sigh. “I am the stupidest person alive. I can't explain things any better than that.”

Jenny smiled at him gently, reaching out to grasp his hand so she could give it a squeeze. “You're not stupid, sweetheart. You're young, that's all, and it can be hard on you when someone who's got everything figured out, like Michael, falls for you, but if you don't want him to move on, you have to go for it. Someone a bit more stubborn than me might come along.”

Adam nodded weakly and asked, “W-where is he?”

“I sent him home,” Jenny said, releasing his hand with one last pat on his knee. “You should go to him.”

“Thank you,” Adam told her truthfully. Haloed by the moonlight that seeped through the windows, she really did resemble his mom, with the same shade of blond hair and those genial blue eyes. A part of him wanted to hug this woman who was so much like Kate, the way he always would after his mother helped him come to terms with a difficult decision, but he'd only known her for a few days and that would be creepy.

Jenny nodded, fair hair tumbling past her shoulders, and watched him run out the door. “You're welcome, Adam. Goodnight.”

He kept his heart-pounding pace until he left the Holmes' house, ever ominous, in his wake, and didn't stop until he was right in front of his own door. When Michael opened it without requiring a knock, as he always did, Adam threw himself into the unsuspecting archangel's arms, his own locking behind his neck, and kissed him.

If he was anyone else, Michael might have tumbled further into the living room, but they stayed in the doorway, Adam's fingers tangling in the vessel's curly hair, arms holding him tightly against the angel's broad chest.

It was Adam who pulled away first, far enough to search Michael's face, to take in the signs he wore that he'd looked for and had thankfully not found in Jenny's, before the words he'd kept back tumbled out to shatter the silence. “I didn't want you to go.”

“You told me to,” Michael said, his swollen lips tucking down into a frown.

“I know,” Adam replied, touching his forehead to the angel's, “and I'm so, so sorry for being an idiot and complicated and, oh God, I'm a woman.”

Michael's eyes widened, almost brown in the darkness, and he seemed terribly confused again, no thanks to his human. “Neither Father nor I were aware of your switch in gender, I'm afraid,” he murmured.

Adam grinned and pecked the archangel again, before reluctantly extricating himself and pushing the archangel inside. “There's probably a better place for revelations than the doorstep. We're gonna weird the neighbors out.”

Michael watched him shut the door behind them and asked, “Is that what this it: a revelation?”

“Yeah,” Adam answered, nodding firmly. “And it's not a bad one, like when I found out Mom had died. It's a good one - an awesome one.”

“Good,” the angel said, a smile dawning on his painfully handsome face. He made to pull Adam into the cage of his arms again, ducking his head into his pale neck, and Adam allowed him to do so, holding him just as tightly.

“You know what we should do now?” he inquired, the words puffing out against Michael's shirt, acquiring a sated hum from its owner. “Sleep together.” The angel drew back, scandalized, and Adam chuckled. “No, I just meant in the same bed. It's gotta be better than watching me all night, right?” Belying the bravado he attempted, his tone was a bit insecure, as he awaited Michael's response.

It was silly, since they'd practically traded promise rings, but when Michael whispered, “I would like that,” Adam's grin became absolutely shit-eating. A few minutes later, however, Michael asked, “What happened to the dog?” the movement of his lips miming butterfly kisses against the column of Adam's throat, drawing first a shiver and then a groan from the human.

Fuck, he knew he'd forgotten something, but none of that mattered anymore. What did was, he loved this oddball angel and they could finally have their big, epic, gay happily ever after.

-

For a while, they did - have their happily ever after, that is.

They spent lazy mornings with each other, Adam snoozing on Michael's chest while the angel threaded curiously tender fingers through his hair, and when the alarm rang for the human to start for school, Michael would fall back into his role as commander in an effort to train Sammie, the puppy whom Adam jokingly referred to as their child.

The only thing even close to impeding them from doing what they wanted - which was, of course, having sex all the time, although Michael demurely deemed it 'being intimate' - was nosy neighbors, most notably Vivian. Since she'd been dropping innuendos about them since they'd first met her, she felt she had the right to drop by coo and them whenever she pleased, usually accompanied a flock of her rumormonger friends.

As annoying as it was, being a small town boy, Adam was used to it. Everyone back in Windom had been busybodies, too, and just as well-meaning, butting in to see his report card or to find out about whatever new girl he'd been crushing on, so he predicted they'd become old news soon enough, and they did - ultimately, as adorable or abhorrent as the new gay couple was, the adulterous Mrs. Tortelli was much more interesting, even if Vivian still called once a day to check up on them. And so Adam's first semester at the University of Kansas ended.

He'd done all right on his midterms, but he didn't think himself much of a test taker, which resulted in enough freakouts of a heroic proportion during study sessions that sort of shied Michael, so when the professor of his last final exam stood up and tapped his watch, indicating their time was up, Adam was relieved. It hadn't been so bad and now he could go home to make things up to his favorite holy warrior. He really wanted to evaluate whether makeup sex was as awesome as people claimed.

Of course, as soon as he reached the door, his plan was derailed by a boy in his class, Joey Brown, who tapped his shoulder from behind. He was a bit shorter than Adam, but a heavyweight in the university's wrestling team, the Jayhawks, with a curly Afro of red hair and the lightest green eyes he'd ever seen.

“Hey, Milligan, that shit sure was hard, huh?” he asked, voice low enough for the harried teacher to miss.

“Yup,” Adam agreed, trying to appear politely interested rather than in a hurry. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with Joey, who happened to be perfectly friendly, but he was a bit too much of your cliché jock type and fell short on Adam's standards of humor.

“Uh huh!” Joey nodded wildly, then glanced around the room, as if about to divulge the meaning of life. His answer, however, was drastically different from what Michael had explained to Adam not long ago. “Y'know that club on Fourth Street? Lucky Larry's? My uncle owns it and he's totally cool with a few of us guys goin' to celebrate.”

Adam smiled at Joey weakly. “I dunno, man,” he started to say, “I've kinda got plans with my roommate.”

“So invite him!” Joey begged, clasping his meaty hands together. “Please, Adam, my pop's back in Texas and he don't care about degrees, anyhow. He wanted me to take over our family deli, for fuck's sake, and all the boys have a meet in Nebraska. C'mon, I can guarantee free drinks!”

Adam bit his lip in response. He'd heard about how Joey had been benched for head-butting an opponent below the belt, but it was talk of his distant father that was the clincher.

“Okay,” he said quietly, figuring he could text Michael and ask him to join them. They'd had a few dates at the Lady, a few restaurants in town, and at the theater near their house, so something a bit more wild might be a nice change of pace.

Or it would suck and his romantic night with Michael would be ruined, but at least Adam's big goon of a friend was happy. He smirked at a whooping Joey and took out his phone, both to message his angel and snap a picture. Passing up such a golden opportunity for blackmail would only be criminal.

Joey only quit his ridiculous dancing when a passing girl shot him an unnerved look, to which he grinned sheepishly, before saying, “Let's take my Dodge.”

Adam shrugged and followed him out to the student parking lot, imparting only half an ear to his jabbering, and by the time he slipped into the passenger side of Joey's monster of a car, his phone buzzed to alert him that Michael had finally replied.

'I shall congregate with you there soon if you'd like', the message read, grammatically correct as ever, as Adam banged back a flirty reply.

'Ooh, i'd like, bb. ;)' He pocketed his phone again, leaning back against his seat and surveying the inside of Joey's truck. There was a little hula dancing bobble-head on the dashboard, packets of Cheese Doodles and half-finished water bottles on the shag-carpeted floor, and a gym bag in the back seat with some dumbbells around it. Adam's inner clean freak shuddered at the mess, but he shot his friend a smile. “Nice ride, Brown.”

“Ain't it?” Joey agreed happily, before bouncing in place and pointing some ways ahead, to a big silver building with a neon green sign that was shaped like a four leaf clover and proclaimed the name of his uncle's business. “We're almost here!”

“I can see that,” Adam smirked, as the truck slowly crept into a too small parking spot, Joey flouncing out before the motor had even fully stopped. Adam shook his head and trailed after the crazy redhead, a bouncer nodding at them from behind a pair of sunglasses, and grimaced at the music that immediately assaulted his ears, raucous and distinctly pop.

From a table near the middle of the bar, someone waved them over and Joey gestured back, informing Adam, “That's my pal, Angelo Verona. We had a film class together this semester.”

“And you couldn't have just hung out with him today?” Adam asked, before shaking the new guy's hand. He was incredibly short, but probably not enough to be labeled with some pituitary gland condition, and had slicked back brown hair with olive toned skin. His beam, however, was infectious.

Hearing him, Angelo cut in, “You know what they say, bro, three's a crowd. I love crowds.”

Adam laughed and took a seat beside him, Joey sitting opposite them. “Not my scene, honestly. Too loud.”

“Then you won't like me,” Angelo joked, butting a fist with Joey.

“Nah, y'all are both pretty cool,” the redhead said. “You'll definitely be buds in no time.” He glanced around the dark depths of his uncle's club and caught the eye of a balding brunet, likely the man himself, then stood up. “Why don't I scrounge us up some drinks? No I.D. or money required, boys.”

“Hells yeah,” Angelo replied with a grin, before propping his face on his palms and leveling his brown eyes on Adam. “We have Professor Booker’s class together, don't we?”

Adam blinked, trying to recall if he'd seen the diminutive man there, but drew a blank. “Uh, you have that mythic lit morning class?”

“Yeah, that's the one!” Angelo said, as Adam wondered how he'd missed seeing him there. It wasn't that big a classroom, after all. “I loved doing them Norse myths, man. That fellow, Loki, sure sounded hot.”

Adam quirked an eyebrow at him and chuckled. “Dude, the only description they gave of him was that he was both beautiful and evil. He goes around tying ropes to his chin and balls...I'm sorry if I'm not getting it.”

“So he's a bit kinky,” Angelo huffed, waggling his dark eyebrows. “That much the better for me, Milligan.”

He shot Adam a wink, but before he could answer, a new voice jumped in, stressed by the microphone. “We're now opening the floor to performers in the audience. The karaoke machine is greased to go.”

“Ooh, ooh, ooh!” Angelo cried, eagerly clapping his hands. When he saw Adam's arched eyebrow, he exclaimed, “I really wanna. Will you do a duet with me?”

“Dude, no,” Adam said at once, but for such a small guy, Angelo was surprisingly strong, easily pulling him to his feet and dragging him halfway to the stage in a minute's time. “W-what about Joey? He's not back with drinks yet.”

Angelo blew off his excuse with an airily waved hand, pointing to the bar, where Joey was chatting up a tall, busty girl. “He ain't comin' back yet, don't worry. By the time he figures out she's way out of his league, we'll finish at least one song and get a few laughs.”

“Fine,” Adam relented, allowing himself to be carted in front of the karaoke machine, where his new friend immediately began pushing buttons. After he saw the name of the song that was picked, he scoffed. “ABBA? Really? This isn't embarrassing enough?”

“Shut up,” Angelo replied, slapping his arm playfully. “It's just one song. Don't be a spoilsport.”

Adam sighed and watched as lyrics began to flash on the small screen, then reluctantly started to sing. Beside him, Angelo was screeching in a high pitch into his own mike, and Adam gradually found himself relaxing, amused by his friend's outrageous behavior. In a few minutes, the words on the screen faded into ellipses and the crowd applauded. Their score came up on the machine: Adam got a seven out of ten while Angelo only received a three.

The small man moped, then said, “Dude, you have a killer voice, and don't even lie, you were totally into that song.”

Adam blushed, rubbing his neck, and mumbled, “Yeah, I guess ABBA's okay. Thanks.” The band had been a favorite of his mother's, back when she was in high school, and although he was loathe to admit it, he didn't think they were half bad.

Angelo smirked, hopping off the stool he'd been sitting on and clacking their microphones back into place. “Sorta hurts that I sucked, but it's nice to be told the truth. Don't ya sometimes wish everyone would?”

Adam bit his lip, pondering over that answer, then nodded. Maybe, if John had told his brothers the truth about him, he wouldn't have died in the first place, but then he might not have Michael.

“It might be nice,” he agreed quietly, before startling when Angelo grabbed the golden coaching whistle he kept around his neck and blew into it. “What was that for?” he demanded, touching his aching ear.

“Uh, just time for me blow this Popsicle stand, that's all. I'll see ya soon, Addie-boy,” the little pest declared, and too quick for such stubby legs, he rushed out of the club. In fact, it almost seemed like he'd up and vanished, though it was more likely the growing swarm of people had simply absorbed him.

Adam stared after him, but soon grew distracted by the tall, dark figure that entered the club a few minutes later. He grinned and jumped off the stage, starting for the exit, but Joey stepped into his way, a cute girl with round glasses standing behind him.

“That was sorta weird, Milligan, you singin' like that,” he said, frowning. The expression was rather foreign on his normally cheerful face.

Adam smirked. “Tell you what, if I ever do that again, I'll sing a little Keith Urban. That's more to your tastes, isn't it?”

“I liked it,” the girl giggled, twirling a pigtail. “Let's dance,” she ordered Joey, some of her sweetness melting away.

“You cool with that?” he inquired Adam, as his girlfriend dragged him off. “Not that I wouldn't go with her, anyway,” he added.

“Oh yeah, fine,” Adam replied, jutting his chin at Michael, who was now leaning against an unoccupied wall, waiting for him with his eyes roving mistrustfully over the other patrons of the club. “In any case, my roommate, Michael, is here. If it's all right with you and-” The girl chirped her name, with was Nelly, and he continued, “-Nelly, we'll be getting out of your way.”

“Okay,” Joey agreed, before obediently moving onto the dance-floor.

Adam let out a relieved sigh and crossed the distance separating him and Michael. “Hey there, stranger,” he greeted, passing his eyes appreciatively over the artfully disheveled archangel, who wore a white shirt with the top two buttons unraveled and neat slacks.

“Hello,” Michael said, his cheek dimpling as his smile tilted crookedly, a sure sign that he was happy to see Adam, who caught him by the collar with both hands and pulled him down for a hungry kiss, more teeth than tongue. When they pulled away, although the archangel wasn't breathing heavily, he did seem a bit dazed. “Hello,” he repeated, forgetting already that he'd mentioned that.

Adam laughed and pushed open the door, welcoming the fresh breeze that assaulted his hot face with closed eyes, then jerked on Michael's collar, drawing the angel out with him and into a secluded alleyway, where he maneuvered him against a wall and caught his mouth again.

The kiss was more intimate this time, his tongue pressing against the angel's gently, luring it back with his, and when he drew back, with another peck on Michael's stubbly jaw, Adam murmured, “Missed you, fly-boy. What took you so long?”

“It's been six hours, forty minutes and twenty-two - no, twenty-one, twenty, nineteen... - seconds since I last saw you. I do not understand why your professors couldn't schedule their tests for their usual classroom hours,” Michael grumbled, lowering his forehead till his vessel's curly black hair mixed in with Adam's shaggy blond, short locks billowing together as the human chuckled. In answer to the question, he said, “I needed to walk the puppy. She was quite restless, and I briefly considered stepping forward in time to quicken the process, but it still would have required forty-five minutes of my time and would have expended more grace.”

“Would have meant less time for me, though,” Adam pointed out, pouting his already swollen lips, but he wasn't actually upset. In a moment, the exaggerated expression was replaced by a devious smirk, as he inserted a knee between Michael's spread legs, putting pressure on the 'v' between his thighs. “Don't worry, Mike. I'm willing to let you make it up to me, for a price.”

“And what would that price be?” the angel prompted huskily, eyelashes fluttering shut when he felt Adam's fingers skimming beneath his shirt, smoothing over the lightly defined abs on his stomach and moving tantalizingly lower.

“We'll think of something at home,” Adam whispered into his ear, inspiring a weak shiver, before possessive fingers dug into the human's hips and the two men were transported out of sight, landing in a tangle on their own bed.

Inside the club, an ominous Marilyn Manson song began to play, carried on the wind of their flight: Angel with the scabbed wings...

-

The next morning, Adam woke up to the sound of his phone vibrating on the bedside table. He scowled sleepily at the annoying device and poked Michael's heavy arm, which kept him pinned onto the bed.

“Shall I hand it to you?” the warrior of the Lord asked, already reaching to do so.

Adam grew distracted by the way the morning sunlight made the flexing muscles on his arm gleam with sweat, then muttered, “It better not be Vivian. Why she wakes up at the butt-crack of dawn, I have no frickin' idea,” but his intuition said it wasn't the old hotel hostess, since she didn't usually text, anyway.

The message in question was from Joey. U have my science txt. Com give it back @ my dorm 2day, plz. Soon.

Adam turned his head and groaned into his pillow. “Why, Joey? Why not in a few hours, you jerk?” he whined.

Michael stroked a soothing hand down his bare back, stilling at his nape, and said, “You're vexed. I can make you feel better.”

“Oh yeah?” Adam asked, cracking open an eye. When he saw the mischievous glow lightening the angel's face, he made to turn, but strong hands stopped him, securing him to the mattress. He put up a struggle, halfhearted at best, then huffed, “What have you got planned?” after realizing resistance was futile.

Michael bent down and ordered, “Just stay still,” before moving his palms down in a sensual, massaging motion over Adam's back, stopping at the bonding mark, his hands locking perfectly into the tiny wing-shaped scars there.

“Oh,” Adam gasped, heat flowing from the angel and seeping into his skin, which began to tingle pleasantly.

He arched up into the touch and Michael met him halfway, bending down so that his breath puffed warm against Adam's ear. “Do you know how much I love seeing you wear my mark?”

“A l-lot?” Adam cautioned blithely, and Michael bit his earlobe in reproach. It was more playful than painful, really, but he got the underlying message: snark was not to be employed in bed. “Sorry,” he mumbled, choking the word out through gritted teeth as another wave of lust rolled through him.

Michael kissed the area just behind his ear in acceptance, trailing even more chaste nips down the bumpy ridge of Adam's spine, till he reached the mark, still cradled by his palms. He paused for a moment, tracing his fingertips over the circumference of the raised circle almost reverentially, dipping into every sigil that was forever branded into Adam, before he dropped a final kiss on the untarnished skin inside it and felt the shiver that coursed through his human's frame.

“My mark on you,” he began, very close to actually purring, “and yours on me. On my wings. Beautiful.”

Adam moaned again, twisting his fingers in his sheets in order to restrain them. “C-can I see them? Please, Michael?” he pleaded, trying not to sound desperate even as he started picturing them behind his closed eyelids.

Feathers that went on infinitely, such a deep sanguine that they were almost black, except for the very shortest, closest to Michael's body, and the elongated tips, which were a burnished gold. They weren't Michael's true wings, but manifestations of them, since it would be a no-no if some snooping neighbor was accidentally blinded after seeing them through the window, but the archangel had displayed them proudly after he and Adam had first consummated their bond.

The gilded feathers, he'd informed his attentive charge, a hint of pride sweetening his voice, were not there before our bond. Adam understood the implications behind that - that something of him would be seared eternally on Michael - and that made him love them that much more, although the radiant originals obviously had their own charm, making their appearance nightly in his dreams.

Michael hummed in reply to his inquiry, purposefully taking his sweet time to answer, then smirked. With his back bared to him, Adam couldn't see the expression, but he just knew, the stupidly cocky bastard. “Very well. You'll need something to hold onto, I suppose.”

And before Adam could comprehend what was happening, coercive hands swept down to his waist, burying into the jutting bones of his hips, and lifted his rear up into the air, the blankets slipping to tangle around his ankles as the beat of giant wings filled the air. Thousands of feathers, prettier than he could have ever imagined, burst into his vision, nestling about him, as the archangel pressed bodily up against his body, his cock sliding snugly into the crack of Adam's ass.

Afterward, Michael stilled, pitching his head to hear Adam's heavy breaths, and the human growled while grounding back into him. “Move!” he demanded.

The former general chuckled at his impatience and acquiesced. “Whatever you wish,” he said, adding, “I love that you're still loose from last night.”

Adam keened, fisting the fingers of both hands into whatever he could reach of Michael's wings, as he'd been advised to, while the angel drove into him at a frantic pace.

“Harder,” he cried, the rocking of the bed mimicking a prop out of a bad porno, “and for your Dad's sake, you dick, touch me!”

“So eager,” mused Michael, decidedly mocking, and Adam might have been proud if he could think with his upper brain again. With what reproach he could manage, he ducked his head and caught a mouthful of feathers between his teeth, grinning spitefully around them when he heard a responding yelp, nowhere near as dignified as his bonded always attempted to appear.

The archangel got his revenge with a particularly rough jab of his hips, hitting a bundle of nerves that immediately jellied Adam's legs, his prostate, making it very difficult for him to hold them up, much less when he felt a warm hand grip his cock, jerking him off in time with Michael's thrusts.

Adam reached his orgasm first, his partner following him over the edge as his hands, teeth and body clenched, and then Michael rolled onto his own back, his wings, one trapped under Adam's body, unfurling all the way out just once, actually making contact with the walls on either end of their bed, before he magically tucked them back into whatever pocket dimension they belonged in.

“I am quite fond of doing that,” he said, stroking Adam's sweaty back like he would to a big cat.

Adam laughed quietly and lifted himself onto his elbows, wiggling in an attempt to get comfortable under the archangel's immovable arm. Finally, he gave up, stood, and muttered, “Well, I hope you're also fond of cleaning up the mess, 'cause I still have to bathe. I should have been gone, like, yesterday.”

“All right,” Michael replied. He watched Adam limp around the room with a troubled frown. “You don't have to do that,” he went on, when the human stooped to pick up the discarded items of clothes they'd ditched the night before. “If you'd let me, I could clean the room, our clothes and you in an instant. I could make the pain go away.” He motioned toward the dark, handprint-shaped bruises that were already blossoming on the pale skin of Adam's pelvis.

Adam regarded them himself, then shook his head, a blush assailing his face. “Nah, call me old-fashioned, but I don't mind these, and I love my Adam-time in the shower, thank you very much. Besides, now my ass can match my back.”

“You like it when I brand you,” the angel said, smug again.

Adam glowered at him, but didn't deny it. “Shut up and do your job,” he bit out, instead. “You're gonna have to drop me off, after.” Michael nodded, still smirking, and he stomped off.

-

Not half an hour later, the archangel and his human mate stood under a secluded bridge area near the main campus of the University of Kansas. The dormitory, where Joey resided, was only a few minutes' walk away.

“Thanks for the ride, Michael,” Adam said, maneuvering the big, heavy anatomy textbook that his friend had lent him from one arm to another. He stepped up into the angel's personal space and whispered, “In maybe thirty minutes, I wanna go on another one, if you know what I mean.”

His flirting flew over Michael's head, a confused furrow forming between the angel's eyebrows. “It will take you thirty minutes to return the book?” he inquired with disappointment. “I suppose I can wait.”

“Not that kind of ride,” Adam answered under his breath, rolling his eyes, before he stole a quick kiss and dashed out from under the bridge. “See you in fifteen, babe. If I'm gone any longer, know that Joey's probably sucked me into another of his dumb conversations, and then you have full permission to call with news of fake emergencies. Say my older brother's having a baby. Make it convincing.”

“Okay,” Michael replied, bobbing his head in an adorably sincere way. Adam threw a concluding flash of his teeth over his shoulder and jogged until he reached the dorms.

Being such a diversely populated campus, there were quite a few, but most had already begun to empty with the semester over. In another week, all the students in them would be gone.

Adam skidded to a stop at the entrance to Joey's, but it was locked. He was tempted to text him so he didn't have to wait for much longer, but when he peered through the glass, he noticed an athletic-looking blond girl carrying her bag out, and called her over with a quick succession of knocks.

“What?” she asked, opening the door for him suspiciously.

He offered her his most winning smile and replied, “Thanks for letting me in. I've gotta meet a friend.”

She was silent for a minute, and he almost considered stepping around her, but then she said, “I think you're really hot. If you blow off your friend, I'll blow you. I'm a slut.” She batted her eyelashes and he gaped.

“U-uh, no thanks. Not that you aren't, um, hot or anything, but I'm sorta taken,” he finally stuttered, taking initiative and dodging her to reach the elevator. “Gotta go, Joey's waiting.”

Before the door closed behind him, he thought he heard call, “I have a boob job!” after him, but then the lift dinged and took him two floors up, to his great relief.

Joey's door was the second to the left in the lobby. After three knocks, the redhead opened it, looking weary, and said, “Hey. I'm not that happy to see you.”

“Feeling's mutual,” Adam returned easily, assuming he was kidding, as he returned the textbook to him and glanced around the tiny room. There were two small beds in it, one completely stripped of its adornments, the other unmade, with a small wardrobe between them. “Nice place, dude.”

“I don't want you in it,” Joey answered, with a more caustic bite to his tone.

Surprised, Adam wheeled around and stared at him, taking in how his face had darkened to a garish red that clashed with his hair and bloodshot eyes. “What's the matter? Are you okay? Is it - it's not your father is it?”

“That ain't why. I never would have wanted you, had I known,” Joey said, moving closer to him, his grip white-knuckled and shaking around the book. Adam unconsciously took a step back, unsure why he was suddenly feeling nervous, and his friend went on with, “I would never have sat next to you in class or been your friend - I never would have trusted you with my fucking dad.”

“W-what are you talking about?” Adam asked, fighting to keep his voice steady. “Whatever it is, Joey, we can work things out. Just tell me what's wrong.”

Rather than explaining, Joey sneered. It was a cruel expression, baring slightly crooked teeth to the world like fangs, and Adam knew enough about demons to expect his eyes to flare black, but that didn't happen. Instead, his friend's beefy arm rose, almost in slow motion, and the textbook, the way too heavy textbook that Adam had complained about since he got it, made impact with his face.

In his head, even as his own vision pitched dangerously black, Adam started doing calculations. A three pound textbook thrown from this distance at that speed...how much damage could it do? The fact that his nose felt broken indicated a lot, thank you very much.

It didn't exactly knock him out. In fact, it wasn't even enough to drop him, after everything, but a tackle from a two hundred and eighty pound amateur wrestler was, especially when said wrestler decided choking him would be a great side dish.

Both young men tumbled to the floor, the book cracking open to a random page beside them, as Adam wildly thrashed under Joey's staggering weight, making it impossible for him to inhale air through his abused trachea.

“Why?” he tried to ask, not completely sure if he was questioning Joey or the universe at large. After all, as bizarre as it was for the former to asphyxiate him to death, the latter was apparently paying heed to the idiom third time's the charm.

Joey got the gist, anyway, or maybe he was following in the footsteps of villains everywhere and merely wanted to do a dramatic monologue.

“I can't believe you're gay,” he growled, squeezing even tighter. “You didn't even try to hide it, you sick, disgusting fag.”

The world was starting to shift colors now, the black at the edges of Adam's vision bleeding darker, even as quirky little shapes floated around, and he would have laughed if he could - at them, at the confession, at everything. However, he didn't even have the energy to scratch Joey anymore, much less that, with how sleepy he was getting.

“I'll only close my eyes for a second,” he told himself mentally. “A second, before I wake up deal with this. Just a second.”

The next thing he knew, there was a whoosh of sound, Joey screamed, the pressure on his chest was gone, and careful arms were cradling him.

“Adam,” a familiar voice, not Joey's, began to speak nonsensically, saying things like, “Your brother's reproducing,” and, “Shh, you'll be okay.”

Adam forced his eyes open and managed a smile for his favorite archangel. Michael remembered his stupid rambling about evacuation excuses - of course he did - and that made him happy, even now. He sighed and melted against the angel's chest, the air around them buzzing as Michael flew them home.

-

Adam woke up to a wet sensation, sliding over his chin and lips continually, with the distinct smell of kibble tickling his nostrils.

He cracked open a bleary eye and pushed Sammie's snout away with a muttered, “The only two people allowed to do that are Michael and Megan Fox.” An ache, however, ran through his throat as soon as the words were out, inspiring a coughing fit that startled the tiny pooch off his chest and onto the floor, where she regarded him with wide, chocolate-brown eyes, almost worried. “I-I'm okay,” he told her, wiping residual tears from his eyes while rubbing a fist against his chest, from which a similar pain resounded.

It wasn't that bad, even if it caught him by surprise, because it felt more like he was coming out of a bad cold than how he should have felt: like a corpse on an autopsy table, ready to be dissected.

Adam swallowed, his throat still uncomfortably parched, and held out his arms for the puppy, who immediately leaped into them, laving his cheek again while he scratched her soft head. She wasn't usually so affectionate with him, not like she was with Michael, but he squeezed her tighter now because of that, grateful that she didn't hate him too much to offer comfort. He needed this - needed more, actually.

“Where's your other pet, anyway?” he mumbled into her floppy ear, using his free arm to prop them both up, though the motion left him winded, his head spinning. The bedroom was empty of all signs of Michael, as neat as they'd left it that morning, and the bedside clock told him only a few hours had passed.

It hadn't even been a fucking day since someone had tried to kill him - again. Sucking in a deep breath that nearly expanded his lungs to their limit, he shouted, “Michael!”

Before the second syllable was out, the archangel was there, a glass of water in his hand that he immediately proffered to the bedridden human. “Are you well?” he asked, voice lulling with concern.

Adam considered him over the brim of his glass. It was a tall, plastic object that he recognized from their kitchen cabinet, the unbreakable kind that you might give to a child. Despite that, he knew Michael hadn't been home. There was a leaf tangled in the curl of his dark hair, a smudge of something shimmering and unidentifiable on his cheek, and Adam really wanted to know where he'd been traipsing off to this time.

Instead of demanding that flat out, he sunk further back into the headboard of the bed and released a squirming Sammie, opening his arms for the angel instead. “Come here,” he murmured, his voice shaking without his permission.

Michael's eyes swept to the door, almost too fast to catch, and there was that pain again, less of a physical thing this time, pinching his chest, that alleviated only when he saw the set of the Michael's shoulders soften as he delved into his side.

Now that he was there, the angel seemed to forget his ulterior motive and melted against Adam, his nose burrowing into fair blond hair, his arms alternatively cherishing and restricting around his mate as Adam's had been with Sammie not long ago, and his lips soon replaced his nose in Adam's hair.

“I almost lost you,” he breathed. “I never want that to happen again.”

Adam hugged him back, with as much strength as he could possibly muster, then said, “Unfortunately for you, you're practically hitched to a Kennedy. I predict a lot more excitement in our future.” He could sense the frown that depressed into his hair.

“The anticipation will kill me,” Michael replied, more weary than sardonic.

Adam's own smile wavered a bit, before he forcefully hardened his voice and inquired, “What happened with Joey? You didn't hurt him, did you?”

“Why?” Michael asked, tone sharp and incredulous, as he pulled some ways back. “Would you truly be bothered if I did?”

“Yes,” Adam answered at once, but even to his own ears the word lacked conviction. After a moment, more quietly now, he added, “He was my...friend. Of all the times someone tried - and usually succeeded - to gank me before, they weren't really people. Joey was.”

“He still is,” Michael revealed softly, embracing him even closer, as if to mesh themselves into one being again, “but sometimes, humans are as bad as any of us creatures. Some are worse.”

Adam accepted that, but couldn't help tacking on, “And some creatures don't deserve to be called 'creatures' at all. They're too good for that.”

Michael turned his head away shyly, a modest, pleased smile forming on his lips. “I didn't hurt him,” he finally revealed. “I sent him away.”

Adam sighed, wanting very much to leave it at that. “You didn't zap him somewhere bad, did you?” he pushed, anyway. “He's not gonna bite it from hypothermia in the North Pole?”

“The South is colder,” came the wry reply. When Adam glared, Michael continued, “I wiped his memory clean - tweaked his outlook a bit - and sent him home. Texas is rather picturesque, even if I'm not fond of him.”

“Thanks,” Adam murmured gratefully. “I-I don't like him that much either - I don't know if I did that much in the first place - but someone getting hurt because of me is not something I can deal with, even if they deserve it.”

“He deserved much worse than what happened to him,” Michael began slowly, “but it wasn't entirely his fault. Your friend was...influenced.”

Eyes wide, Adam inquired, “I-influenced? Was he high? Possessed?”

“I sensed residual magic regulating his behavior,” Michael said. At Adam's blank look, he explicated, “You see, when supernatural powers are exploited, something of the user is left behind. The only exception is with human witches. What remains, in their case, is the essence of the demon they gleaned their powers from.”

“So witches made him wig out?” Adam asked, frowning. “Man, after all of the other bubbles reality has burst, couldn't they, at least, have been like the witches in Harry Potter? Sure, Hermione might have been an annoying know-it-all, but she didn't worship Hell spawn and Emma's hot.”

“No. The magical residue left behind, although a minuscule amount, was far more potent than your average witch or demon,” Michael answered balefully. “It felt vaguely familiar and yet I cannot rest until I reach a definitive conclusion.”

“You're going hunt it,” Adam said. When Michael didn't deny this, he declared, “Then I'm coming along,” with a defiant tilt of his chin.

Scowling was more his signature than Michael's, but right now the archangel mimicked him, his mouth twisting downward at the corners. “No!”

“Yes!” Adam snapped back, equally impetuous. “Wherever you're going, I'll be there with you. That, or I won't be here when you come back.”

Five minutes passed, crawling on evermore, in the running for the most awkward quintet of minutes in existence. Finally, Michael said, “I am not going after it. I'm summoning it to me. Perhaps the basement would be the best location for that?”

“Whatever you want, baby,” Adam grinned. It was easy enough to agree to that stipulation since he'd already won.

Michael sighed, long-suffering, and muttered, “I've already carved the necessary sigils into that bowl from the china set Mrs. Welde gifted us. I presume you'll explain that to her, yes?”

As he realized the implications - involving the possible deafening of his ear, of course - all the excess air blasted out of Adam, leaving him grudgingly impressed. “Touché.”

The archangel smirked and bowed his head, then went off to find whatever other components he needed to perfect his summoning spell. Adam lay back against his pillows, staying there for but a few minutes, before forcing himself to get up.

For the first time in his life, he'd be hunting a monster. Hopefully his Winchester blood would come in handy at long last.

-

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