Passenger - SPN - Sam/Adam
Title: Passenger
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Adam
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I own nothing and am making no money off this.
Word Count: ~5000
Warnings: Incest, AU, angst and man pain.
Summary: Sam’s brother is dead. Adam’s mom is dead. Together, they try to cope and survive, despite their massive issues. AU from No Rest For the Wicked.
Notes: Beta’d by the amazing cherie_morte. Written for i_am_negotiable for the spnrarepairs exchange. Originally posted here.
There’s a ghost in the passenger seat. Adam can feel the hovering, shivering presence every time he steps inside the Impala, a weary memory lingering within the leather of the seats, clinging stubbornly to whatever’s left.
Dean Winchester is dead, but he’s here, sitting in between him and Sam. He’s seared into the car, etched into Sam and Adam just catches the brunt of it, in the crosshairs of Sam’s mourning.
He shouldn’t be here, but it’s too late now.
It doesn’t matter that Adam didn’t know Dean Winchester-he’s in this car as much as Sam is, as much as Adam is, sitting in the passenger seat and he can’t help but feel like he stepped over someone’s grave.
Sam doesn’t talk about it and by now, Adam knows better than to ask.
****
Adam’s life ends when he wakes up to find his house on fire, his mother screaming from the other room and a woman with black eyes dragging him out while he kicked and screamed.
She gets him out of the house and says it’s too late. Adam protests and struggles, begs and pleads and cries to get back inside but she holds him back the entire time, keeping him away from his burning mother.
“It’s too late,” she says in a sharp, cold voice, “you’re lucky I was able to save you.”
Adam doesn’t feel particularly lucky.
She explains that demons burned down his home, trying to kill him. She explains they attacked him because his brother-what the fuck, I don’t have a brother he manages to say before his mind goes back into freaked-out mode-is hunting some demon named Lilith, so they’re retaliating by taking out all the Winchester. She explains she’s going to take him to Sam and he’ll keep him safe.
She explains but Adam doesn’t hear.
****
It’s a fucking stupid idea.
The woman-her name is Ruby-drags him to some hole-in-the-wall hotel room and introduces him to Sam. Which is to say she basically threw Adam into his room and very curtly explained the situation before either of them could react.
Adam’s first impression of Sam is that he’s incredibly tall and could probably kick Adam’s ass.
“Sam, Adam needs to stay here. You need to train him and make sure he can fight what’s coming.”
“Excuse me?” Sam asks, in this subdued but disbelieving voice. Adam’s second impression of Sam is that his eyes are cold and hard and a little bit scary.
“I’m not staying here,” Adam protests. “I have college in a few months. I have a home-”
His voice shakes on the last few words and he feels so stupid and young for it but he can’t help it.
“Your home is gone,” she says and Adam nearly flinches from the words. “And there are demons after you. You saw what they did. You don’t stay here and you’ll die.”
Adam shakes his head, because this is ridiculous and just wrong. Things can’t change so much in a span of minutes. Things aren’t supposed happen like this.
“I’m not staying with some stranger.”
“Fine,” she sneers, cocking her head to the side sharply. The gesture is not quite human and it unsettles him. “Then leave. Personally, I give you a week but you might even make it a whole month before one of Lilith’s pet demons get to you.”
“We can give him a gun,” Sam interrupts. “Show him how a salt line works, how to make a devil’s trap. We can give him enough to survive and let him go.”
Sam speaks in this toneless voice, like any life or personality or emotion had been drained out long ago. He just met the guy and Adam already knows there’s something deeply wrong with him, something that tells Adam he doesn’t want to be around him any longer than he has to.
“He isn’t going to make it on his own,” Ruby hisses, stepping closer to Sam. She’s not talking to Adam anymore. “He’s going to die without someone to train him.”
“And why should that be me?” Sam says, clenching his jaw and his voice dropping low, hardening. Adam is suddenly very aware of how tall he is and of the muscles under his shirt and how Adam knows jack shit of what’s going on.
Ruby isn’t quite glaring but the look on her face is not a kind one.
“Well, I just thought you’d like to keep the last living member of your family alive-”
Sam flinches. Adam wants to protest that this guy is not his family but his mouth has stopped working. His throat feels very dry and the confusion he felt earlier has magnified to something like horror. He might throw up.
“-but fine, let’s throw this kid to the wolves. I don’t really care, I just thought you might.”
She looks at Adam again, an expectant look on her face.
Adam’s mother is dead, he’s all alone and everything is different now.
“Am I really in danger?” He finally manages, not liking how small his voice is, how small he feels; like the world has gotten big enough to consume him whole.
She nods but her expression doesn’t change, remains cold and remote. “Yes.”
Ruby turns back to Sam, her eyes narrowed. “You can kick him out yourself. It’s up to you,” she says and leaves.
They both stare at the spot where she stood. Sam doesn’t even look at him, looks at the space around Adam instead. Adam goes back and forth between glancing at the door and the floor, anything to pretend there is a sane answer to this, but it isn’t helping. He’s never felt so unsure of anything in his life.
It’s the most awkward silence Adam has ever endured. They don’t say anything to each other. All Adam can hear is the sound of his own breathing and he feels like, more than anything, he shouldn’t be here. This isn’t his place.
He should leave. He wants to leave, because this is fucking stupid and ridiculous and insane. Adam should just walk out and not look back.
But there’s no home to go back to and he doesn’t know anything anymore.
Sam won’t even look at him.
“Is this real?” Adam says softly, more to himself than Sam. He’s sure Sam won’t answer. There’s an edge of hysteria in Adam’s voice, shaking and maniac. His chest doesn’t quite hurt but there’s a pressure in it, rising and bubbling and it’s all Adam can do to keep it from overwhelming him.
Sam looks at him directly for the first time; it’s a strange look, like he’s seeing Adam and not seeing him as well. It’s unnerving and unsettling and Adam wants to leave and never come back, but he thinks he’s more terrified of what else is out there, of what killed his mother.
It’s dark in the room, but Adam thinks he sees Sam’s eyes soften a little; something flicker in them that isn’t all numbness or hard edges.
He nods. “You can stay,” Sam says finally and turns away from him.
Adam still doesn’t know what to do.
****
Adam is an only child. The only person he ever shared any living quarters with was his mom and she was at work all the time, trying to provide for them both. Adam wasn’t too happy about her absence but he understood and learned to make do. He learned the fine art of ramen noodles, doing his own laundry, and looking after himself. That he can handle. He didn’t learn how to share his living space too well.
Living with Sam takes some…adjusting, to say the least.
Sam doesn’t sugarcoat things or mince words. He doesn’t beat around the bush. He tells Adam exactly what the score is, how dangerous things really are. He tells Adam about salting and burning ghosts, about demons and gives him a crash course in Lilith and why she’s such bad news. He shows Adam how to hold and shoot a shot gun, which knife is best for someone his size and how to hold it properly. He even lets Adam have one of his knives. Adam is grateful for that, at the very least, even if he feels so terrified he’s going to burst out of his own skin.
But other than that, he doesn’t talk to Adam at all. He barely even looks at Adam. He maintains a cool distance, at all times. He’s the definition of coldly professional. It’s obvious Sam would rather Adam not be there at all. And if Adam asks about Dean, Sam shuts down and doesn’t say a word all day.
Adam is a little grateful for that too, because watching Sam hunt demons is arguably scarier than the demons themselves. There’s something a little unnatural about the detached way he goes about things, something terrifying in the way he recklessly slaughters them and there’s something downright unnerving about the emptiness in Sam’s eyes.
It’s not really a partnership. If Adam is feeling charitable, it’s student/teacher relationship. Adam is the grasshopper and Sam is an American, alcoholic Mr. Miyagi.
Adam isn’t usually feeling charitable. Adam feels like he’s just along for the ride.
Most days, Sam drives them to whatever destination and Adam sits quietly in the passenger seat, preferring to stare out the window instead of Sam, avoiding Sam’s presence for as long as he can. It’s not an easy silence, but it’s better than the alternative.
Sometimes, it feels like the road is going to open up and swallow them whole and they’ll be forever lost. Well, maybe not Sam, because he’s made for this, but definitely Adam. It should be an adventure, but really, it’s just fucking terrifying, like he’s living on the edge of nothingness. Adam is just a small-town boy from Minnesota; he was never meant for this.
****
For the record, Sam is not Adam’s brother. Adam is an only child. His mother is Kate Milligan and he doesn’t have a dad-unless you count that weird guy who came around a few times for Adam’s birthday and tried to have a relationship with his bastard child, but Adam doesn’t, so he doesn’t have a father.
Adam just happens to be unlucky enough to be related to Sam by blood. That’s it.
There’s no connection, there’s no relationship and there sure as fuck isn’t any sense of brotherhood. Adam isn’t really interested in pursuing one. He just wants to stay alive.
*****
What he hates the most (you know, besides the near death experiences and the isolation and his mother’s death) is the lack of privacy. Day in and day out Sam is here, all around him, constantly. Sam is always beside him in the car, in the diner where they eat in silence, in the motel as they sleep. Adam is always uncomfortably aware of Sam’s regular nightmares but has no clue what to do about them, never bringing them up because there’s nothing he can do about them.
Sam rarely says anything-unless he’s training Adam, or hunting with him-and Adam is grateful for the silence most of the time but it’s not enough distance. He can’t get away from him; Adam has never lived in such close quarters with another human being and he thinks that maybe that’s the thing that will drive him insane in the end.
He loves it when Sam goes out for food or to run an errand, or when Sam goes off with Ruby somewhere-even if Ruby creeps Adam out-because those are the only times that Adam is left alone. The only times he doesn’t feel trapped and claustrophobic by Sam’s presence.
****
“I can leave,” Adam says one day. He already has his bags packed.
“You’re leaving?” Sam asks. There’s something weird in Sam’s voice-something not perfectly controlled or in a monotone, like every other word Sam’s said to him. This is different, the barest hints of life. It’s almost like Sam is surprised.
“Yeah,” Adams says, “You don’t want me here.” It’s not an accusation. He’s not angry. He’s not offended by Sam’s actions, the way he’s sharp and curt with Adam, the way he holds him at arm’s length. He isn’t Sam’s brother, isn’t even his friend and Adam shouldn’t be here to watch Sam barely hold himself together, if he hasn’t fallen apart already.
Sam doesn’t deny it. He’s silent as he stares at Adam, the expression blank and assessing. It’s scary and Adam thinks that’s why he hasn’t gone out the door yet, because he’s right next to it but he feels like a deer caught in headlights.
“You can’t,” Sam says. “You have to stay.”
“Why?” Adam asks and his voice is a little harsh, rougher than it should be but really, he doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t want to drown and be dragged down by Sam’s grief and misery and isolation.
“They’ll kill you.”
“I can defend myself now, thanks,” Adam says. He is genuinely grateful for what Sam’s shown him.
“Not against Lilith.”
“I’ll take my chances,” Adam says, even as the more rational part of him knows Lilith can end him in a second. A month ago, he didn’t have worry about all this shit and it’s easy to believe he can step outside into the real world, leave this madness and go back home. He isn’t made for this.
Adam opens the door; it’s hot outside and the heat makes his skin itch and his clothes feel too tight, but it makes something in Adam’s chest brighten.
“Where will you even go?” Sam asks. He’s not angry, not that Adam can tell-that’s just it. There’s barely any emotion, empty and mechanical and infuriatingly rational.
Adam doesn’t have an answer. College, he wants to say but he missed his chance. Home, he thinks next but it’s gone now, burned down. I can stay with some friends, Adam thinks, trying to desperately cling to what he used to have, but he hates the idea of putting anyone he knows in the crossfire of whatever’s after him.
He doesn’t know where to go. He can be out there alone-or he can stay with Sam.
Adam shuts the door. He lets his bag slump to the ground. “Fuck you,” he snarls quietly, not looking at Sam. He goes to the bathroom for another shower, anything to get away from him.
****
Sam sits at the corner table, cleaning his guns compulsively, and doesn’t look at Adam when he comes out of the bathroom, which is just fine with him. He doesn’t want to talk or interact or acknowledge Sam
It’s not that Adam’s angry at Sam, no more than he is at everything else-he just hates that he’s here. Hates that he can’t get out.
Adam gets into bed and pulls the blankets over him, preparing for another night of fitful sleep.
“I’m sorry,” Sam says later, before Adam falls completely asleep. Sam’s voice is thick and rough with alcohol. He’s pretty sure Sam thinks he’s asleep.
Adam shouldn’t move. He should let Sam have his moment of regret or whatever in peace and not draw attention to himself. He shouldn’t make this any more uncomfortable than it already is.
Adam reluctantly raises his head from under the covers and wills himself to look at Sam.
The room is dark, save for the amber lamp from table casting a light onto Sam’s face. He’s pale and there are dark bags under his eyes. He’s not even thirty but there’s something incredibly aged about him. He looks so wrecked sitting there with nothing but a bottle of whiskey.
He’s so clearly worn down and if Adam knew Sam better, he might know what to say to him, might be able to muster up a sincere word-he is sorry Sam lost his brother, out of human compassion rather than genuine concern-but mostly, he’s just uncomfortable being around someone who’s about to crack any minute and there’s nothing Adam can do to stop it.
“For your mom,” Sam clarifies, his words rushed and hasty, “I’m sorry-”
Sam’s voice breaks and he can’t finish. He bows his head, eyes squeezed shut and Adam thinks this was a mistake, he should have just let Sam to alcohol and loneliness, that he shouldn’t have tried for any interaction more than necessary.
“I-” Adam starts and he doesn’t know what to say. “I get it,” he says awkwardly, nodding, “I get it.”
He should say more, a thank you maybe, but he doesn’t know what to say or how to respond or how to deal with Sam beyond silence and an uneasy tolerance.
Adam pulls the covers over his head before Sam can do anything and he’s sure they’re both grateful for it.
“I’m sorry about your brother,” Adam says at last, so soft he’s sure Sam doesn’t hear.
****
They don’t talk much; there’s not really much to say and Sam doesn’t even seem capable of small talk.
Adam thinks of saying, hey, maybe you should stop drinking so much because he’s a little tired of dealing with a drunken Sam, but he doesn’t think he wants to have that conversation. He can imagine all the terrible ways it could go.
I’m sorry your brother is dead doesn’t seem good enough. Thank you for saving me doesn’t need to be said.
Adam doesn’t particularly want to talk about his life either. He doesn’t want to mention what his life was like before or his mom or his friends or anything. He doesn’t even want to think about it because he feels like screaming if he lingers on the past for too long.
So they settle in into a quiet rhythm. It’s never comfortable or easy-as long as Adam is here, he doesn’t think he’ll ever feel comfortable, not while he’s on high alert for anything and everything that wants to kill him-but they get used to each other. He’d never go as far to say that he knows Sam, but he’s accustomed to Sam and his scary but meticulous brand of craziness.
He doesn’t know Sam but he’s sure Sam wasn’t like this before Dean died.
It disturbs Adam on a fundamental level that Sam doesn’t seem to have any other friends, doesn’t seem to know anyone else who also cared for Dean; it’s just him. That makes the loss seem all the more terrible.
It makes it a little easier to comprehend why Sam is so fucked up.
Sometimes, Adam wishes he met Dean Winchester at some point, if only so he could say something like, “I’m really sorry he’s gone,” and not have it sound ridiculous. If only so he could actually help Sam somehow.
But Adam didn’t know Dean Winchester; Dean was his brother too and a part of Adam feels like he lost something before he ever got to have it, but it’s small and faint. He didn’t know Dean Winchester and any connection is fragile, any regret on his part more obligatory than anything else. It mostly feels like he just missed the bus to somewhere he could have gone but it’s not that big a deal because there’s always another one.
There’s always Sam.
****
Ruby shows up frequently; Adam doesn’t like her and he gets the impression she doesn’t care much for him, whether she saved his life or not. She’s usually here to drag Sam off somewhere, but sometimes she insists on talking to Adam.
“How is he?” She says one morning, standing outside the room, running her toe along the salt line. Adam could let her in, but he thinks he’d rather wait for Sam. Sam is off getting breakfast for them. Adam never gets them breakfast unless it’s a continental breakfast the motel has, because that would mean Adam would have to drive the Impala and Sam refuses to let anyone touch the Impala but him.
He gives Ruby a searching look, eyes squinting.
“Is that why I’m really here?” He asks, spitting the words out as a sudden surge of anger hits him. “To watch over Sam?”
She rolls her eyes and gives him a look as if he is a particularly slow child.
“We went over this. You’re a walking target. You stick with Sam, you live. You leave Sam, you die.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
She cocks her head to the side, narrowing her eyes. “Wow. You’ve only been here a month and you already think you know what’s really going on.”
“Well, then what is going on?”
Ruby is quiet for a moment, contemplating Adam before she answers.
“Sam’s brother is dead. He’s not stable. He needs someone.” She says it like it’s a fact, indisputable. “I wish I could keep an eye on him all the time, but I got shit to do.”
“So, I’m here to babysit him? I’m a Dean substitute or-”
She cuts him off with a loud laugh, genuinely amused, which just pisses Adam off farther.
“Oh, Adam,” she says, still smiling, “you are no Dean Winchester.”
Adam knows he isn’t. He doesn’t particularly want to be and never cared about that, but the way Ruby says it, he feels a little insulted.
“But no, you’re not a glorified babysitter,” she continues, growing serious. “You’re the last Winchester. That means something.”
Adam is really starting to hate the idea that he’s a Winchester, that he and Sam are kin just because they have the same father. Family doesn’t work like that.
“Listen, just because his dad knocked up my mom doesn’t make me-”
“You’re blood.” She hisses, stressing the words. “Around these parts, that means something.”
“To who? Sam?”
“To everyone who wants your head,” she says with an arrogant smirk.
Adam can’t help but think she’s holding something back and he just doesn’t know the right question to ask.
****
Sam is usually out with Ruby if he isn’t with Adam and he always slips back in late, taking care to shut the door quietly and slink into his own bed. Adam notices anyway-he’s always been a light sleeper and he’s edgier than usual-but he keeps quiet about it.
Adam immediately notices the difference this time. Sam shuts the door loudly and his footsteps are noisy and plodding rather than the silent steps of a skilled hunter.
Adam’s first thought is that he’s drunk; it wouldn’t be the first time.
It’s when the bed dips that Adam starts to get concerned, Sam’s weight heavy and his body close enough to Adam’s that he can feel his warmth.
“Sam, what the fuck?” Adam groans, rolling over.
He finds Sam just watching him. He doesn’t look all there-less so than usual-his eyes distant. Adam can’t see his eyes very clearly-it’s far too dark in the room for that-but he’s close enough to see his face, twisted in confusion, like Adam isn’t supposed to be there.
Adam has felt like that the whole time he’s been here. He wonders how drunk Sam has to be to forget Adam ever showed up in his life but maybe Sam’s been wishing that for a while.
“You’re in the wrong bed, Sam.” Adam says, lightly shoving him towards his own. “You sleep there-”
Sam surges towards him and kisses him hard on the mouth and Adam’s so surprised he doesn’t do anything. Sam’s kiss is bruising and sloppy. He tastes like alcohol and iron, harsh and burning, and kisses like a drowning man taking his last breath. His fingers are curling slightly inward as his hands clutch Adam by his t-shirt, holding him with a trembling intensity. There’s a crazy sort of desperation in the act, something wild and frenzied and not at all sane.
Adam vaguely thinks he should stop him but his body hasn’t quite caught up with his brain yet. He gasps instead and Sam kisses harder, deeper. He burrows in closer, his hands on Adam’s shoulders, lining up his body against his until Adam can feel Sam’s skin burning hot even through his clothes. It doesn’t exactly feel bad but-
He doesn’t know how to deal with this. Sam’s always kept this careful and cold demeanor, even if there’s always something a little feral simmering underneath, flashes of wild-eyed grief that surfaces for a split second before slipping back into empty hollowness. Adam’s learned to respond with a wariness and reservation, like befriending a tiger that’s always an easy step from taking his head off.
Sam only says and does what he has to and nothing more and Adam responds in kind. It’s the routine they’ve built up and it’s twisted and bleak but it’s one of the few constants in this life, it’s what Adam knows for sure. He can’t deal with Sam changing the rules like this.
“Sam, you’re drunk,” Adam says, pulling away. He can’t keep the exasperation out of his voice and he tries to push Sam but Sam just clings to him harder, burying his face in Adam’s throat, murmuring nonsense words that don’t make any sense to him.
“Sam,” Adam groans and he places his hand on Sam’s back.
Sam is shaking. His body is trembling like he’s about to fall apart, if Adam touches him the wrong way-too harsh or too hard-this act he’s built up will crumble to pieces. It makes something in Adam’s chest ache and he finds himself stroking Sam’s back, doing whatever he can to calm him down.
“Sam, it’s-” Adam starts but he doesn’t have a clue what to say.
Sam is muttering a string of nonsense but through it all, Adam thinks he hears please, reckless and needy, open in the messiest way possible. It breaks something in Adam, and he doesn’t stop Sam; he holds him awkwardly instead, one hand on his back and one in Sam’s hair, doing the best he can do. He lets it all spill out over into him.
****
When Adam wakes up, Sam’s gone-out for breakfast or maybe he just wants to be away from Adam, which is just fine with him, because Adam doesn’t want to deal with the awkward morning after. Uncertainty has become such a normal part of Adam’s life now, but he thought he was sure of Sam’s relationship with him. This routine was all Adam had to hold on to and now it’s all fucked to hell.
Adam wants to ignore it all and maybe he can, because god knows they’ve been doing such a good job of ignoring each other beforehand.
He goes to take a shower, ignoring the stained sheets; they’re leaving this morning so there’s no need to deal with them. Adam can forget all about what happened last night, forget about Sam’s mouth and hands and the needy, desperate way he clung to him.
Adam is fully clothed and has gotten most of his things packed up when Sam comes in, carrying two cups of coffee. Sam pauses when he opens the door, eyes wide and alert, like he hadn’t expected to see Adam up and awake.
Neither of them says anything. It’s like the first time they met, complete with Adam’s desire to run far away, only somehow infinitely worse. Now all the clearly defined lines between them are tangled up.
“Hi,” Adam says, his voice raspy and mouth gone dry. The word feels ridiculous in his mouth and he just prays Sam doesn’t bring anything up.
Sam hands him his coffee without a word, but keeps his sharp, unreadable stare trained on Adam.
“Thanks,” Adam says, taking a sip. He tries to go back to packing and ignoring Sam but Sam is staring at him. Adam can feel his eyes burning into his back.
It’s definitely awkward. Adam doesn’t know if Sam will bring it up, if this is normal behavior for Sam or an anomaly. All he knows is Sam mourning with Adam as his witness and he can’t tell if last night was regular Sam or just another expression of grief.
Adam doesn’t know if it’s is going to happen again. He isn’t sure what he’d do if it did; he wants to say he’d tell Sam no, but he honestly doesn’t know now that the arrangement between them has already shifted.
Adam is so sick of this damn uncertainty.
“Adam.”
Sam’s voice is weirdly quiet, almost hesitant. Adam is dreading whatever Sam’s going to say but he’s not a coward. He glances back at Sam.
He’s still watching him, but the lines on his face have softened, not quite as harsh and his eyes no longer look quite so hollow. Adam wonders if Sam’s eyes looked like that last night, if it had light enough for Adam to see.
“I,” Sam begins but he can’t seem to find the words, like he’s forgotten them. He’s as uncertain as Adam and it’s not really surprising, but it makes Adam feel a little better; they’re both lost.
“I wasn’t always like this,” Sam finally finishes, even as the words die down, ending with a somber hush.
Something clicks in Adam’s head-not an epiphany but rather an incomplete puzzle coming together. Adam nods in acknowledgement. Sometimes, Adam wants to ask what Dean was like-though there are countless hints to his personality all around Sam. Other times, Adam wants to ask what Sam was like, before all this happened.
Sometimes, he wonders if Sam died when Dean died and this is just the best he can do.
“It’s alright,” Adam says, trying to be as gentle as he can, but Sam suddenly keeps talking.
“God, you just got out of high school and you should be in college and we’re here instead-”
Sam cuts himself off with a bitter laugh, a sad sort of desperate tinge in it, the same kind of desperation that was there was last night. It worries Adam, the rawness in Sam’s eyes, the edge of tears that he normally holds back, it’s all out here on the surface now and if it gets any worse, Adam knows it’ll get ugly.
“I get it.” Adam interrupts, keeping his voice soft and level, soothing. He almost means it. “It’s okay.”
“I’m really-”
“I get it,” Adam repeats and holds out one of his hands. If he were closer, he could touch Sam, like he did last night. “It’s okay, dude.”
There really is nothing okay about this but it’s the best Adam can do. It’s the best both of them could do.
Sam stills for a second, taking what he said in, before giving a jerky nod.
Adam doesn’t quite smile, but his lips twitch. “I’ll meet you in the car, okay?” Adam says as he grabs his bag and coffee.
It’s awkward but Adam refuses to look away, meets his stare head-on as he waits for an answer. Adam gets a blank stare, like Sam doesn’t quite understand what he’s saying. The look in Sam’s eyes is distant, the tears receding, but he’s still looking Adam straight in the eye.
“Okay, Sam?” He asks again.
Sam finally nods, his eyes focusing. “Okay.”
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Adam
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I own nothing and am making no money off this.
Word Count: ~5000
Warnings: Incest, AU, angst and man pain.
Summary: Sam’s brother is dead. Adam’s mom is dead. Together, they try to cope and survive, despite their massive issues. AU from No Rest For the Wicked.
Notes: Beta’d by the amazing cherie_morte. Written for i_am_negotiable for the spnrarepairs exchange. Originally posted here.
There’s a ghost in the passenger seat. Adam can feel the hovering, shivering presence every time he steps inside the Impala, a weary memory lingering within the leather of the seats, clinging stubbornly to whatever’s left.
Dean Winchester is dead, but he’s here, sitting in between him and Sam. He’s seared into the car, etched into Sam and Adam just catches the brunt of it, in the crosshairs of Sam’s mourning.
He shouldn’t be here, but it’s too late now.
It doesn’t matter that Adam didn’t know Dean Winchester-he’s in this car as much as Sam is, as much as Adam is, sitting in the passenger seat and he can’t help but feel like he stepped over someone’s grave.
Sam doesn’t talk about it and by now, Adam knows better than to ask.
****
Adam’s life ends when he wakes up to find his house on fire, his mother screaming from the other room and a woman with black eyes dragging him out while he kicked and screamed.
She gets him out of the house and says it’s too late. Adam protests and struggles, begs and pleads and cries to get back inside but she holds him back the entire time, keeping him away from his burning mother.
“It’s too late,” she says in a sharp, cold voice, “you’re lucky I was able to save you.”
Adam doesn’t feel particularly lucky.
She explains that demons burned down his home, trying to kill him. She explains they attacked him because his brother-what the fuck, I don’t have a brother he manages to say before his mind goes back into freaked-out mode-is hunting some demon named Lilith, so they’re retaliating by taking out all the Winchester. She explains she’s going to take him to Sam and he’ll keep him safe.
She explains but Adam doesn’t hear.
****
It’s a fucking stupid idea.
The woman-her name is Ruby-drags him to some hole-in-the-wall hotel room and introduces him to Sam. Which is to say she basically threw Adam into his room and very curtly explained the situation before either of them could react.
Adam’s first impression of Sam is that he’s incredibly tall and could probably kick Adam’s ass.
“Sam, Adam needs to stay here. You need to train him and make sure he can fight what’s coming.”
“Excuse me?” Sam asks, in this subdued but disbelieving voice. Adam’s second impression of Sam is that his eyes are cold and hard and a little bit scary.
“I’m not staying here,” Adam protests. “I have college in a few months. I have a home-”
His voice shakes on the last few words and he feels so stupid and young for it but he can’t help it.
“Your home is gone,” she says and Adam nearly flinches from the words. “And there are demons after you. You saw what they did. You don’t stay here and you’ll die.”
Adam shakes his head, because this is ridiculous and just wrong. Things can’t change so much in a span of minutes. Things aren’t supposed happen like this.
“I’m not staying with some stranger.”
“Fine,” she sneers, cocking her head to the side sharply. The gesture is not quite human and it unsettles him. “Then leave. Personally, I give you a week but you might even make it a whole month before one of Lilith’s pet demons get to you.”
“We can give him a gun,” Sam interrupts. “Show him how a salt line works, how to make a devil’s trap. We can give him enough to survive and let him go.”
Sam speaks in this toneless voice, like any life or personality or emotion had been drained out long ago. He just met the guy and Adam already knows there’s something deeply wrong with him, something that tells Adam he doesn’t want to be around him any longer than he has to.
“He isn’t going to make it on his own,” Ruby hisses, stepping closer to Sam. She’s not talking to Adam anymore. “He’s going to die without someone to train him.”
“And why should that be me?” Sam says, clenching his jaw and his voice dropping low, hardening. Adam is suddenly very aware of how tall he is and of the muscles under his shirt and how Adam knows jack shit of what’s going on.
Ruby isn’t quite glaring but the look on her face is not a kind one.
“Well, I just thought you’d like to keep the last living member of your family alive-”
Sam flinches. Adam wants to protest that this guy is not his family but his mouth has stopped working. His throat feels very dry and the confusion he felt earlier has magnified to something like horror. He might throw up.
“-but fine, let’s throw this kid to the wolves. I don’t really care, I just thought you might.”
She looks at Adam again, an expectant look on her face.
Adam’s mother is dead, he’s all alone and everything is different now.
“Am I really in danger?” He finally manages, not liking how small his voice is, how small he feels; like the world has gotten big enough to consume him whole.
She nods but her expression doesn’t change, remains cold and remote. “Yes.”
Ruby turns back to Sam, her eyes narrowed. “You can kick him out yourself. It’s up to you,” she says and leaves.
They both stare at the spot where she stood. Sam doesn’t even look at him, looks at the space around Adam instead. Adam goes back and forth between glancing at the door and the floor, anything to pretend there is a sane answer to this, but it isn’t helping. He’s never felt so unsure of anything in his life.
It’s the most awkward silence Adam has ever endured. They don’t say anything to each other. All Adam can hear is the sound of his own breathing and he feels like, more than anything, he shouldn’t be here. This isn’t his place.
He should leave. He wants to leave, because this is fucking stupid and ridiculous and insane. Adam should just walk out and not look back.
But there’s no home to go back to and he doesn’t know anything anymore.
Sam won’t even look at him.
“Is this real?” Adam says softly, more to himself than Sam. He’s sure Sam won’t answer. There’s an edge of hysteria in Adam’s voice, shaking and maniac. His chest doesn’t quite hurt but there’s a pressure in it, rising and bubbling and it’s all Adam can do to keep it from overwhelming him.
Sam looks at him directly for the first time; it’s a strange look, like he’s seeing Adam and not seeing him as well. It’s unnerving and unsettling and Adam wants to leave and never come back, but he thinks he’s more terrified of what else is out there, of what killed his mother.
It’s dark in the room, but Adam thinks he sees Sam’s eyes soften a little; something flicker in them that isn’t all numbness or hard edges.
He nods. “You can stay,” Sam says finally and turns away from him.
Adam still doesn’t know what to do.
****
Adam is an only child. The only person he ever shared any living quarters with was his mom and she was at work all the time, trying to provide for them both. Adam wasn’t too happy about her absence but he understood and learned to make do. He learned the fine art of ramen noodles, doing his own laundry, and looking after himself. That he can handle. He didn’t learn how to share his living space too well.
Living with Sam takes some…adjusting, to say the least.
Sam doesn’t sugarcoat things or mince words. He doesn’t beat around the bush. He tells Adam exactly what the score is, how dangerous things really are. He tells Adam about salting and burning ghosts, about demons and gives him a crash course in Lilith and why she’s such bad news. He shows Adam how to hold and shoot a shot gun, which knife is best for someone his size and how to hold it properly. He even lets Adam have one of his knives. Adam is grateful for that, at the very least, even if he feels so terrified he’s going to burst out of his own skin.
But other than that, he doesn’t talk to Adam at all. He barely even looks at Adam. He maintains a cool distance, at all times. He’s the definition of coldly professional. It’s obvious Sam would rather Adam not be there at all. And if Adam asks about Dean, Sam shuts down and doesn’t say a word all day.
Adam is a little grateful for that too, because watching Sam hunt demons is arguably scarier than the demons themselves. There’s something a little unnatural about the detached way he goes about things, something terrifying in the way he recklessly slaughters them and there’s something downright unnerving about the emptiness in Sam’s eyes.
It’s not really a partnership. If Adam is feeling charitable, it’s student/teacher relationship. Adam is the grasshopper and Sam is an American, alcoholic Mr. Miyagi.
Adam isn’t usually feeling charitable. Adam feels like he’s just along for the ride.
Most days, Sam drives them to whatever destination and Adam sits quietly in the passenger seat, preferring to stare out the window instead of Sam, avoiding Sam’s presence for as long as he can. It’s not an easy silence, but it’s better than the alternative.
Sometimes, it feels like the road is going to open up and swallow them whole and they’ll be forever lost. Well, maybe not Sam, because he’s made for this, but definitely Adam. It should be an adventure, but really, it’s just fucking terrifying, like he’s living on the edge of nothingness. Adam is just a small-town boy from Minnesota; he was never meant for this.
****
For the record, Sam is not Adam’s brother. Adam is an only child. His mother is Kate Milligan and he doesn’t have a dad-unless you count that weird guy who came around a few times for Adam’s birthday and tried to have a relationship with his bastard child, but Adam doesn’t, so he doesn’t have a father.
Adam just happens to be unlucky enough to be related to Sam by blood. That’s it.
There’s no connection, there’s no relationship and there sure as fuck isn’t any sense of brotherhood. Adam isn’t really interested in pursuing one. He just wants to stay alive.
*****
What he hates the most (you know, besides the near death experiences and the isolation and his mother’s death) is the lack of privacy. Day in and day out Sam is here, all around him, constantly. Sam is always beside him in the car, in the diner where they eat in silence, in the motel as they sleep. Adam is always uncomfortably aware of Sam’s regular nightmares but has no clue what to do about them, never bringing them up because there’s nothing he can do about them.
Sam rarely says anything-unless he’s training Adam, or hunting with him-and Adam is grateful for the silence most of the time but it’s not enough distance. He can’t get away from him; Adam has never lived in such close quarters with another human being and he thinks that maybe that’s the thing that will drive him insane in the end.
He loves it when Sam goes out for food or to run an errand, or when Sam goes off with Ruby somewhere-even if Ruby creeps Adam out-because those are the only times that Adam is left alone. The only times he doesn’t feel trapped and claustrophobic by Sam’s presence.
****
“I can leave,” Adam says one day. He already has his bags packed.
“You’re leaving?” Sam asks. There’s something weird in Sam’s voice-something not perfectly controlled or in a monotone, like every other word Sam’s said to him. This is different, the barest hints of life. It’s almost like Sam is surprised.
“Yeah,” Adams says, “You don’t want me here.” It’s not an accusation. He’s not angry. He’s not offended by Sam’s actions, the way he’s sharp and curt with Adam, the way he holds him at arm’s length. He isn’t Sam’s brother, isn’t even his friend and Adam shouldn’t be here to watch Sam barely hold himself together, if he hasn’t fallen apart already.
Sam doesn’t deny it. He’s silent as he stares at Adam, the expression blank and assessing. It’s scary and Adam thinks that’s why he hasn’t gone out the door yet, because he’s right next to it but he feels like a deer caught in headlights.
“You can’t,” Sam says. “You have to stay.”
“Why?” Adam asks and his voice is a little harsh, rougher than it should be but really, he doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t want to drown and be dragged down by Sam’s grief and misery and isolation.
“They’ll kill you.”
“I can defend myself now, thanks,” Adam says. He is genuinely grateful for what Sam’s shown him.
“Not against Lilith.”
“I’ll take my chances,” Adam says, even as the more rational part of him knows Lilith can end him in a second. A month ago, he didn’t have worry about all this shit and it’s easy to believe he can step outside into the real world, leave this madness and go back home. He isn’t made for this.
Adam opens the door; it’s hot outside and the heat makes his skin itch and his clothes feel too tight, but it makes something in Adam’s chest brighten.
“Where will you even go?” Sam asks. He’s not angry, not that Adam can tell-that’s just it. There’s barely any emotion, empty and mechanical and infuriatingly rational.
Adam doesn’t have an answer. College, he wants to say but he missed his chance. Home, he thinks next but it’s gone now, burned down. I can stay with some friends, Adam thinks, trying to desperately cling to what he used to have, but he hates the idea of putting anyone he knows in the crossfire of whatever’s after him.
He doesn’t know where to go. He can be out there alone-or he can stay with Sam.
Adam shuts the door. He lets his bag slump to the ground. “Fuck you,” he snarls quietly, not looking at Sam. He goes to the bathroom for another shower, anything to get away from him.
****
Sam sits at the corner table, cleaning his guns compulsively, and doesn’t look at Adam when he comes out of the bathroom, which is just fine with him. He doesn’t want to talk or interact or acknowledge Sam
It’s not that Adam’s angry at Sam, no more than he is at everything else-he just hates that he’s here. Hates that he can’t get out.
Adam gets into bed and pulls the blankets over him, preparing for another night of fitful sleep.
“I’m sorry,” Sam says later, before Adam falls completely asleep. Sam’s voice is thick and rough with alcohol. He’s pretty sure Sam thinks he’s asleep.
Adam shouldn’t move. He should let Sam have his moment of regret or whatever in peace and not draw attention to himself. He shouldn’t make this any more uncomfortable than it already is.
Adam reluctantly raises his head from under the covers and wills himself to look at Sam.
The room is dark, save for the amber lamp from table casting a light onto Sam’s face. He’s pale and there are dark bags under his eyes. He’s not even thirty but there’s something incredibly aged about him. He looks so wrecked sitting there with nothing but a bottle of whiskey.
He’s so clearly worn down and if Adam knew Sam better, he might know what to say to him, might be able to muster up a sincere word-he is sorry Sam lost his brother, out of human compassion rather than genuine concern-but mostly, he’s just uncomfortable being around someone who’s about to crack any minute and there’s nothing Adam can do to stop it.
“For your mom,” Sam clarifies, his words rushed and hasty, “I’m sorry-”
Sam’s voice breaks and he can’t finish. He bows his head, eyes squeezed shut and Adam thinks this was a mistake, he should have just let Sam to alcohol and loneliness, that he shouldn’t have tried for any interaction more than necessary.
“I-” Adam starts and he doesn’t know what to say. “I get it,” he says awkwardly, nodding, “I get it.”
He should say more, a thank you maybe, but he doesn’t know what to say or how to respond or how to deal with Sam beyond silence and an uneasy tolerance.
Adam pulls the covers over his head before Sam can do anything and he’s sure they’re both grateful for it.
“I’m sorry about your brother,” Adam says at last, so soft he’s sure Sam doesn’t hear.
****
They don’t talk much; there’s not really much to say and Sam doesn’t even seem capable of small talk.
Adam thinks of saying, hey, maybe you should stop drinking so much because he’s a little tired of dealing with a drunken Sam, but he doesn’t think he wants to have that conversation. He can imagine all the terrible ways it could go.
I’m sorry your brother is dead doesn’t seem good enough. Thank you for saving me doesn’t need to be said.
Adam doesn’t particularly want to talk about his life either. He doesn’t want to mention what his life was like before or his mom or his friends or anything. He doesn’t even want to think about it because he feels like screaming if he lingers on the past for too long.
So they settle in into a quiet rhythm. It’s never comfortable or easy-as long as Adam is here, he doesn’t think he’ll ever feel comfortable, not while he’s on high alert for anything and everything that wants to kill him-but they get used to each other. He’d never go as far to say that he knows Sam, but he’s accustomed to Sam and his scary but meticulous brand of craziness.
He doesn’t know Sam but he’s sure Sam wasn’t like this before Dean died.
It disturbs Adam on a fundamental level that Sam doesn’t seem to have any other friends, doesn’t seem to know anyone else who also cared for Dean; it’s just him. That makes the loss seem all the more terrible.
It makes it a little easier to comprehend why Sam is so fucked up.
Sometimes, Adam wishes he met Dean Winchester at some point, if only so he could say something like, “I’m really sorry he’s gone,” and not have it sound ridiculous. If only so he could actually help Sam somehow.
But Adam didn’t know Dean Winchester; Dean was his brother too and a part of Adam feels like he lost something before he ever got to have it, but it’s small and faint. He didn’t know Dean Winchester and any connection is fragile, any regret on his part more obligatory than anything else. It mostly feels like he just missed the bus to somewhere he could have gone but it’s not that big a deal because there’s always another one.
There’s always Sam.
****
Ruby shows up frequently; Adam doesn’t like her and he gets the impression she doesn’t care much for him, whether she saved his life or not. She’s usually here to drag Sam off somewhere, but sometimes she insists on talking to Adam.
“How is he?” She says one morning, standing outside the room, running her toe along the salt line. Adam could let her in, but he thinks he’d rather wait for Sam. Sam is off getting breakfast for them. Adam never gets them breakfast unless it’s a continental breakfast the motel has, because that would mean Adam would have to drive the Impala and Sam refuses to let anyone touch the Impala but him.
He gives Ruby a searching look, eyes squinting.
“Is that why I’m really here?” He asks, spitting the words out as a sudden surge of anger hits him. “To watch over Sam?”
She rolls her eyes and gives him a look as if he is a particularly slow child.
“We went over this. You’re a walking target. You stick with Sam, you live. You leave Sam, you die.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
She cocks her head to the side, narrowing her eyes. “Wow. You’ve only been here a month and you already think you know what’s really going on.”
“Well, then what is going on?”
Ruby is quiet for a moment, contemplating Adam before she answers.
“Sam’s brother is dead. He’s not stable. He needs someone.” She says it like it’s a fact, indisputable. “I wish I could keep an eye on him all the time, but I got shit to do.”
“So, I’m here to babysit him? I’m a Dean substitute or-”
She cuts him off with a loud laugh, genuinely amused, which just pisses Adam off farther.
“Oh, Adam,” she says, still smiling, “you are no Dean Winchester.”
Adam knows he isn’t. He doesn’t particularly want to be and never cared about that, but the way Ruby says it, he feels a little insulted.
“But no, you’re not a glorified babysitter,” she continues, growing serious. “You’re the last Winchester. That means something.”
Adam is really starting to hate the idea that he’s a Winchester, that he and Sam are kin just because they have the same father. Family doesn’t work like that.
“Listen, just because his dad knocked up my mom doesn’t make me-”
“You’re blood.” She hisses, stressing the words. “Around these parts, that means something.”
“To who? Sam?”
“To everyone who wants your head,” she says with an arrogant smirk.
Adam can’t help but think she’s holding something back and he just doesn’t know the right question to ask.
****
Sam is usually out with Ruby if he isn’t with Adam and he always slips back in late, taking care to shut the door quietly and slink into his own bed. Adam notices anyway-he’s always been a light sleeper and he’s edgier than usual-but he keeps quiet about it.
Adam immediately notices the difference this time. Sam shuts the door loudly and his footsteps are noisy and plodding rather than the silent steps of a skilled hunter.
Adam’s first thought is that he’s drunk; it wouldn’t be the first time.
It’s when the bed dips that Adam starts to get concerned, Sam’s weight heavy and his body close enough to Adam’s that he can feel his warmth.
“Sam, what the fuck?” Adam groans, rolling over.
He finds Sam just watching him. He doesn’t look all there-less so than usual-his eyes distant. Adam can’t see his eyes very clearly-it’s far too dark in the room for that-but he’s close enough to see his face, twisted in confusion, like Adam isn’t supposed to be there.
Adam has felt like that the whole time he’s been here. He wonders how drunk Sam has to be to forget Adam ever showed up in his life but maybe Sam’s been wishing that for a while.
“You’re in the wrong bed, Sam.” Adam says, lightly shoving him towards his own. “You sleep there-”
Sam surges towards him and kisses him hard on the mouth and Adam’s so surprised he doesn’t do anything. Sam’s kiss is bruising and sloppy. He tastes like alcohol and iron, harsh and burning, and kisses like a drowning man taking his last breath. His fingers are curling slightly inward as his hands clutch Adam by his t-shirt, holding him with a trembling intensity. There’s a crazy sort of desperation in the act, something wild and frenzied and not at all sane.
Adam vaguely thinks he should stop him but his body hasn’t quite caught up with his brain yet. He gasps instead and Sam kisses harder, deeper. He burrows in closer, his hands on Adam’s shoulders, lining up his body against his until Adam can feel Sam’s skin burning hot even through his clothes. It doesn’t exactly feel bad but-
He doesn’t know how to deal with this. Sam’s always kept this careful and cold demeanor, even if there’s always something a little feral simmering underneath, flashes of wild-eyed grief that surfaces for a split second before slipping back into empty hollowness. Adam’s learned to respond with a wariness and reservation, like befriending a tiger that’s always an easy step from taking his head off.
Sam only says and does what he has to and nothing more and Adam responds in kind. It’s the routine they’ve built up and it’s twisted and bleak but it’s one of the few constants in this life, it’s what Adam knows for sure. He can’t deal with Sam changing the rules like this.
“Sam, you’re drunk,” Adam says, pulling away. He can’t keep the exasperation out of his voice and he tries to push Sam but Sam just clings to him harder, burying his face in Adam’s throat, murmuring nonsense words that don’t make any sense to him.
“Sam,” Adam groans and he places his hand on Sam’s back.
Sam is shaking. His body is trembling like he’s about to fall apart, if Adam touches him the wrong way-too harsh or too hard-this act he’s built up will crumble to pieces. It makes something in Adam’s chest ache and he finds himself stroking Sam’s back, doing whatever he can to calm him down.
“Sam, it’s-” Adam starts but he doesn’t have a clue what to say.
Sam is muttering a string of nonsense but through it all, Adam thinks he hears please, reckless and needy, open in the messiest way possible. It breaks something in Adam, and he doesn’t stop Sam; he holds him awkwardly instead, one hand on his back and one in Sam’s hair, doing the best he can do. He lets it all spill out over into him.
****
When Adam wakes up, Sam’s gone-out for breakfast or maybe he just wants to be away from Adam, which is just fine with him, because Adam doesn’t want to deal with the awkward morning after. Uncertainty has become such a normal part of Adam’s life now, but he thought he was sure of Sam’s relationship with him. This routine was all Adam had to hold on to and now it’s all fucked to hell.
Adam wants to ignore it all and maybe he can, because god knows they’ve been doing such a good job of ignoring each other beforehand.
He goes to take a shower, ignoring the stained sheets; they’re leaving this morning so there’s no need to deal with them. Adam can forget all about what happened last night, forget about Sam’s mouth and hands and the needy, desperate way he clung to him.
Adam is fully clothed and has gotten most of his things packed up when Sam comes in, carrying two cups of coffee. Sam pauses when he opens the door, eyes wide and alert, like he hadn’t expected to see Adam up and awake.
Neither of them says anything. It’s like the first time they met, complete with Adam’s desire to run far away, only somehow infinitely worse. Now all the clearly defined lines between them are tangled up.
“Hi,” Adam says, his voice raspy and mouth gone dry. The word feels ridiculous in his mouth and he just prays Sam doesn’t bring anything up.
Sam hands him his coffee without a word, but keeps his sharp, unreadable stare trained on Adam.
“Thanks,” Adam says, taking a sip. He tries to go back to packing and ignoring Sam but Sam is staring at him. Adam can feel his eyes burning into his back.
It’s definitely awkward. Adam doesn’t know if Sam will bring it up, if this is normal behavior for Sam or an anomaly. All he knows is Sam mourning with Adam as his witness and he can’t tell if last night was regular Sam or just another expression of grief.
Adam doesn’t know if it’s is going to happen again. He isn’t sure what he’d do if it did; he wants to say he’d tell Sam no, but he honestly doesn’t know now that the arrangement between them has already shifted.
Adam is so sick of this damn uncertainty.
“Adam.”
Sam’s voice is weirdly quiet, almost hesitant. Adam is dreading whatever Sam’s going to say but he’s not a coward. He glances back at Sam.
He’s still watching him, but the lines on his face have softened, not quite as harsh and his eyes no longer look quite so hollow. Adam wonders if Sam’s eyes looked like that last night, if it had light enough for Adam to see.
“I,” Sam begins but he can’t seem to find the words, like he’s forgotten them. He’s as uncertain as Adam and it’s not really surprising, but it makes Adam feel a little better; they’re both lost.
“I wasn’t always like this,” Sam finally finishes, even as the words die down, ending with a somber hush.
Something clicks in Adam’s head-not an epiphany but rather an incomplete puzzle coming together. Adam nods in acknowledgement. Sometimes, Adam wants to ask what Dean was like-though there are countless hints to his personality all around Sam. Other times, Adam wants to ask what Sam was like, before all this happened.
Sometimes, he wonders if Sam died when Dean died and this is just the best he can do.
“It’s alright,” Adam says, trying to be as gentle as he can, but Sam suddenly keeps talking.
“God, you just got out of high school and you should be in college and we’re here instead-”
Sam cuts himself off with a bitter laugh, a sad sort of desperate tinge in it, the same kind of desperation that was there was last night. It worries Adam, the rawness in Sam’s eyes, the edge of tears that he normally holds back, it’s all out here on the surface now and if it gets any worse, Adam knows it’ll get ugly.
“I get it.” Adam interrupts, keeping his voice soft and level, soothing. He almost means it. “It’s okay.”
“I’m really-”
“I get it,” Adam repeats and holds out one of his hands. If he were closer, he could touch Sam, like he did last night. “It’s okay, dude.”
There really is nothing okay about this but it’s the best Adam can do. It’s the best both of them could do.
Sam stills for a second, taking what he said in, before giving a jerky nod.
Adam doesn’t quite smile, but his lips twitch. “I’ll meet you in the car, okay?” Adam says as he grabs his bag and coffee.
It’s awkward but Adam refuses to look away, meets his stare head-on as he waits for an answer. Adam gets a blank stare, like Sam doesn’t quite understand what he’s saying. The look in Sam’s eyes is distant, the tears receding, but he’s still looking Adam straight in the eye.
“Okay, Sam?” He asks again.
Sam finally nods, his eyes focusing. “Okay.”