[SPN Fic]: Stop and Smell the Rose Thorns - T - 1/1
A/N: This is a belated present for demira_watson's birthday. I meant to have it earlier, but was harangued by another fic. Happy birthday, Demi, and worry not, because there's a HUGE 'verse associated with this that I've slowly been tinkering away at. It's my next 'big' project. ♥
Title: Stop and Smell the Rose Thorns
Disclaimer: I,
ladyknightanka, do not own Supernatural. If I did, I'd take better care of the characters. Please don't replicate my silly work without permission. Pop-culture references aren't mine.
Warnings: T for coarse language, implied sexual content, innuendo and mild violence of the werewolf variety.
Other Notes: ~1300w. Michael/Adam. Light mentions of Sam/Gabriel and Dean/Castiel. Werewolf AU. Snapshot of a larger 'verse.
Summary: Adam may be the alpha's cherished mate, may not be much of a warrior, but he's a werewolf all the same and he doesn't need to be coddled.
-
Stop and Smell the Rose Thorns
-
In the sunlight, the white of the wolf's maw gleams brighter than usual. Michael catches it by its snout and furry chin, holds its dangerous fangs apart, though they try and try to tear his arms off. Michael rears one fist back and, in the instant before the wolf can snap down, punches it in the side of its head.
It whimpers and lifts a large paw. The sable fur along it slowly recedes, till the only fringe of chestnut locks left remains atop its, now his, considerably smaller head. A very naked Gabriel crouches in front of Michael, a flowering bruise on one tan cheek, his lips twisted into a sneer.
“Jesus fuck, Mike, you try'na knock my head off?” he asks. “Watch the freakin' money maker, man! What'll Sam think?”
Michael merely smirks and proffers a dagger that had been thus tucked into the small of his back. It's comprised of a stark silver blade and a wrapped leather hilt. “You're lucky I went easy on you,” he tells his lieutenant mockingly, flipping the dagger from hand to hand.
“Whatever,” Gabriel mutters, as he stoops to pick his pants back up. He ignores the torn shirt and turns his back to Michael.
“Where are you going now?” the alpha calls after him.
Gabriel grins over his bare shoulder. “Gonna see if your pretty little mate has time to patch me up,” he says. Michael scowls and the grin becomes an outright guffaw. “Now, now, bro, don't be jealous.”
“I'm not,” Michael grits out. “I'm simply disappointed that my beta needs to be coddled after a few punches. I thought our pack was made of stronger stuff.”
“Hey, if Adam is doin' the coddling, bro, any wolf would do the same,” Gabriel answers with a shrug. He suppresses a chuckle when Michael quickens his pace to fall into step alongside him. Sometimes, despite the stoic alpha mask, Michael can be very predictable. Gabriel's mirth vanishes, however, once they reach the medical building of their pack compound and find only Raphael, who grimaces at them. “What are you doing here, Raph? Where's the pretty one?” Gabriel inquires, puffed up like a wolf that had been blow-dried.
Raphael bares her teeth. Michael knows she won't be opposed to biting Gabriel's head off, human form or not, so he steps between her and his lieutenant, shooting the latter a scolding look. “Raphael is very pretty and you, Gabriel, are more than fine. Why don't you run laps around the border? Your candy intake is showing.”
Gabriel's jaw drops, but Michael's green eyes are all warning, so he huffs and stalks off. “Irksome brat,” says Raphael, yet Michael can tell by the quirk of her full lips that she doesn't mean it, that it's a fond rebuke. They're all familiar with Gabriel's antics by now. They all miss him when he leaves on his missions of espionage.
“Where is the other brat?” Michael asks, matching her smile. The expression slips slightly at Raphael's shake of the head. “He didn't come to aid you? He said he would this morning.”
“I don't know, then,” Raphael replies. It seems nonchalant, but that she would even grace Michael with her time, for this particular line of questioning, means that she's worried, too. She calls Adam brat, but they all know, while Michael is Adam's mate, she was the one who took him under her wing, to nurture the healer he never had the opportunity to become. “When you find him, tell the boy not to be a miscreant tomorrow.”
“I will,” Michael promises, before leaving the medical building. It's not very crowded outside, in the streets of the compound, but there are still enough people. They drown Michael's senses with their greetings, their smells, their hearty claps of touch against his back or arms. Nevertheless, Adam is his mate, is his, and upon his arrival at the entrance of the forest that borders their property, Michael shuts himself off to everything else but Adam.
A familiar scent tickles his nose. It's almost human. Adam hadn't always been a wolf, hadn't given up his human vices, his store-bought shampoo and soap and clothing brands, but there's something deeper to him. He smells like youth and the love of nature that had motivated him to be a boyscout. He smells like something Michael wants to burrow his nose in and never let go. It's hard not to find something you care about so much, even if you don't look, and Michael does.
He starts to run toward the source. His destination, he realizes, as protruding branches and tall trees whip past and fall behind him, is a small clearing the cubs play in. Adam isn't alone. The aroma that brands him is dulled by others that are vaguely familiar. Michael expects them to be members of his pack, but not so...small.
Adam isn't a gargantuan wolf himself, not like his brothers will probably be if Gabriel and Castiel ever decide to change them. Adam is sleek and lithe and the color of honey. The slope of his snout, of the scruff down his back to his tail, however, denotes him to be an adult. The cubs that circle him fall below his chest, but continue to bark threateningly. An even smaller black wolf huddles behind Adam. Suddenly Michael knows exactly what's happening.
It's Jesse. Like Adam, he wasn't created by Michael or one of Michael's own, but Lucifer. Like Adam, he is intrinsically an outsider, despite choosing to align himself with them. Unlike Adam, on the other hand, Jesse is not the alpha's mate, is not afforded that extra protection, nor is he more than a child. It's why Adam is so tender toward him.
Michael feels worry curl in his chest, though he keeps himself behind a tree. They're only cubs, yes, but Adam is no warrior. He doesn't like blood on his teeth or fur or claws and Michael doesn't like the thought of him tainted, either. He also doesn't want Adam angry with him, so he sits in wait, allows the situation to play out. His mate is very independent, unfamiliar with the pack mentality those born as wolves revel in.
Adam throws his head back and howls. The shrill siren song is carried on, dances upon, the wind. Michael's heart swells at the sound. Birds scatter from the trees above. The rebellious group of wolves freeze, but ultimately decide to retreat. With them gone, Adam's tongue lolls and he curls around Jesse's obsidian form, using the pink muscle to lick the pup's face clean.
This new position makes it all too easy for Jesse's dark eyes to land on Michael, who nods once, ever curt. Jesse nuzzles himself against Adam's cheek one last time, but soon extricates the tangled ball of fur that they've become and heads off in the opposite direction of his bullies.
Alone, Adam rises on all fours and shifts. His bones crack and metamorphose beneath a golden pelt that becomes pale skin. Soon, he stands, naked, and stretches. “I knew you were there,” he murmurs. Michael's ears catch every word.
He abandons the shelter of his tree and molds his front to Adam's back. “I knew you'd be waiting here, like this-” He sweeps his palms down to cradle the jut of Adam's hips, “-for me. How could I resist my mate's call?”
Adam laughs and the vibration of his joy thrums into Michael, they're so close. He leans back into the older man's arms, drops a hand on top of Michael's and links their fingers together. “Whatever you say, oh fearless leader. Now, are you gonna make use of our privacy or not?”
“Eager,” Michael says into his shoulder, against the filmed over silver skin of Lucifer's scar, perhaps using more teeth than necessary. Only perhaps. He flips Adam around in the cage of his arms and captures him forcefully by the lips.
-
The End, But Not Really
-
A/N: So, you know all the stuff about Adam not being born a wolf, Lucifer biting him, etc? That will all be explained later in a fic I'm tentatively thinking of calling The Heart is a Lonely Hunter. It's for demira_watson, too, because she's a dear and always writing me things. I hope you enjoyed this first look of your eventual monster, bb; I want to complete it before sharing, so it may be a while till you see it in its entirety, but I'm not opposed to more timestamps. And, of course, I hope everyone else is intrigued, too. ;D
Title: Stop and Smell the Rose Thorns
Disclaimer: I,
ladyknightanka, do not own Supernatural. If I did, I'd take better care of the characters. Please don't replicate my silly work without permission. Pop-culture references aren't mine.
Warnings: T for coarse language, implied sexual content, innuendo and mild violence of the werewolf variety.
Other Notes: ~1300w. Michael/Adam. Light mentions of Sam/Gabriel and Dean/Castiel. Werewolf AU. Snapshot of a larger 'verse.
Summary: Adam may be the alpha's cherished mate, may not be much of a warrior, but he's a werewolf all the same and he doesn't need to be coddled.
-
Stop and Smell the Rose Thorns
-
In the sunlight, the white of the wolf's maw gleams brighter than usual. Michael catches it by its snout and furry chin, holds its dangerous fangs apart, though they try and try to tear his arms off. Michael rears one fist back and, in the instant before the wolf can snap down, punches it in the side of its head.
It whimpers and lifts a large paw. The sable fur along it slowly recedes, till the only fringe of chestnut locks left remains atop its, now his, considerably smaller head. A very naked Gabriel crouches in front of Michael, a flowering bruise on one tan cheek, his lips twisted into a sneer.
“Jesus fuck, Mike, you try'na knock my head off?” he asks. “Watch the freakin' money maker, man! What'll Sam think?”
Michael merely smirks and proffers a dagger that had been thus tucked into the small of his back. It's comprised of a stark silver blade and a wrapped leather hilt. “You're lucky I went easy on you,” he tells his lieutenant mockingly, flipping the dagger from hand to hand.
“Whatever,” Gabriel mutters, as he stoops to pick his pants back up. He ignores the torn shirt and turns his back to Michael.
“Where are you going now?” the alpha calls after him.
Gabriel grins over his bare shoulder. “Gonna see if your pretty little mate has time to patch me up,” he says. Michael scowls and the grin becomes an outright guffaw. “Now, now, bro, don't be jealous.”
“I'm not,” Michael grits out. “I'm simply disappointed that my beta needs to be coddled after a few punches. I thought our pack was made of stronger stuff.”
“Hey, if Adam is doin' the coddling, bro, any wolf would do the same,” Gabriel answers with a shrug. He suppresses a chuckle when Michael quickens his pace to fall into step alongside him. Sometimes, despite the stoic alpha mask, Michael can be very predictable. Gabriel's mirth vanishes, however, once they reach the medical building of their pack compound and find only Raphael, who grimaces at them. “What are you doing here, Raph? Where's the pretty one?” Gabriel inquires, puffed up like a wolf that had been blow-dried.
Raphael bares her teeth. Michael knows she won't be opposed to biting Gabriel's head off, human form or not, so he steps between her and his lieutenant, shooting the latter a scolding look. “Raphael is very pretty and you, Gabriel, are more than fine. Why don't you run laps around the border? Your candy intake is showing.”
Gabriel's jaw drops, but Michael's green eyes are all warning, so he huffs and stalks off. “Irksome brat,” says Raphael, yet Michael can tell by the quirk of her full lips that she doesn't mean it, that it's a fond rebuke. They're all familiar with Gabriel's antics by now. They all miss him when he leaves on his missions of espionage.
“Where is the other brat?” Michael asks, matching her smile. The expression slips slightly at Raphael's shake of the head. “He didn't come to aid you? He said he would this morning.”
“I don't know, then,” Raphael replies. It seems nonchalant, but that she would even grace Michael with her time, for this particular line of questioning, means that she's worried, too. She calls Adam brat, but they all know, while Michael is Adam's mate, she was the one who took him under her wing, to nurture the healer he never had the opportunity to become. “When you find him, tell the boy not to be a miscreant tomorrow.”
“I will,” Michael promises, before leaving the medical building. It's not very crowded outside, in the streets of the compound, but there are still enough people. They drown Michael's senses with their greetings, their smells, their hearty claps of touch against his back or arms. Nevertheless, Adam is his mate, is his, and upon his arrival at the entrance of the forest that borders their property, Michael shuts himself off to everything else but Adam.
A familiar scent tickles his nose. It's almost human. Adam hadn't always been a wolf, hadn't given up his human vices, his store-bought shampoo and soap and clothing brands, but there's something deeper to him. He smells like youth and the love of nature that had motivated him to be a boyscout. He smells like something Michael wants to burrow his nose in and never let go. It's hard not to find something you care about so much, even if you don't look, and Michael does.
He starts to run toward the source. His destination, he realizes, as protruding branches and tall trees whip past and fall behind him, is a small clearing the cubs play in. Adam isn't alone. The aroma that brands him is dulled by others that are vaguely familiar. Michael expects them to be members of his pack, but not so...small.
Adam isn't a gargantuan wolf himself, not like his brothers will probably be if Gabriel and Castiel ever decide to change them. Adam is sleek and lithe and the color of honey. The slope of his snout, of the scruff down his back to his tail, however, denotes him to be an adult. The cubs that circle him fall below his chest, but continue to bark threateningly. An even smaller black wolf huddles behind Adam. Suddenly Michael knows exactly what's happening.
It's Jesse. Like Adam, he wasn't created by Michael or one of Michael's own, but Lucifer. Like Adam, he is intrinsically an outsider, despite choosing to align himself with them. Unlike Adam, on the other hand, Jesse is not the alpha's mate, is not afforded that extra protection, nor is he more than a child. It's why Adam is so tender toward him.
Michael feels worry curl in his chest, though he keeps himself behind a tree. They're only cubs, yes, but Adam is no warrior. He doesn't like blood on his teeth or fur or claws and Michael doesn't like the thought of him tainted, either. He also doesn't want Adam angry with him, so he sits in wait, allows the situation to play out. His mate is very independent, unfamiliar with the pack mentality those born as wolves revel in.
Adam throws his head back and howls. The shrill siren song is carried on, dances upon, the wind. Michael's heart swells at the sound. Birds scatter from the trees above. The rebellious group of wolves freeze, but ultimately decide to retreat. With them gone, Adam's tongue lolls and he curls around Jesse's obsidian form, using the pink muscle to lick the pup's face clean.
This new position makes it all too easy for Jesse's dark eyes to land on Michael, who nods once, ever curt. Jesse nuzzles himself against Adam's cheek one last time, but soon extricates the tangled ball of fur that they've become and heads off in the opposite direction of his bullies.
Alone, Adam rises on all fours and shifts. His bones crack and metamorphose beneath a golden pelt that becomes pale skin. Soon, he stands, naked, and stretches. “I knew you were there,” he murmurs. Michael's ears catch every word.
He abandons the shelter of his tree and molds his front to Adam's back. “I knew you'd be waiting here, like this-” He sweeps his palms down to cradle the jut of Adam's hips, “-for me. How could I resist my mate's call?”
Adam laughs and the vibration of his joy thrums into Michael, they're so close. He leans back into the older man's arms, drops a hand on top of Michael's and links their fingers together. “Whatever you say, oh fearless leader. Now, are you gonna make use of our privacy or not?”
“Eager,” Michael says into his shoulder, against the filmed over silver skin of Lucifer's scar, perhaps using more teeth than necessary. Only perhaps. He flips Adam around in the cage of his arms and captures him forcefully by the lips.
-
The End, But Not Really
-
A/N: So, you know all the stuff about Adam not being born a wolf, Lucifer biting him, etc? That will all be explained later in a fic I'm tentatively thinking of calling The Heart is a Lonely Hunter. It's for demira_watson, too, because she's a dear and always writing me things. I hope you enjoyed this first look of your eventual monster, bb; I want to complete it before sharing, so it may be a while till you see it in its entirety, but I'm not opposed to more timestamps. And, of course, I hope everyone else is intrigued, too. ;D