Michael/Adam Domesticitydemira_watsonApril 14 2012, 01:35:30 UTC
Michael/Adam Domesticity, PG-13
...In which I fail at writing cute fluff.
When Adam agreed to move in with Michael, he did so with an open mind.
After all, Archangel with zero social skills. Adam smiled and planned for the worst.
He hadn’t expected Suburbia. Neat cut lawns, white picket fence…neighbours who brought you homemade muffins. But apparently his socially backward archangel had been studying (Desperate Housewives by the look of things but at least he was trying). So Adam endured the stepford wives act that now surrounded him (by ensuring the whole property was monster/demon/anything supernatural proof) and the weekly drive (a minivan? Dean still hadn’t stopped laughing) to the local supermarket for groceries because Michael seemed really pleased with his little slice of the American dream and Adam didn’t want to burst the giant fluff balls bubble.
Because Michael, God’s fiercest warrior, gave Sam Winchester a run for his money with the Puppy Dog Eyes.
“Perhaps green?” Michael suggested and Adam zoned back into their current domestic decision. Painting the spare room.
“I liked the yellow.” Adam replied holding the paint charts up and squinting his eyes to match the drying paint on the wall to the colourful blocks on the little slips of paper.
“The mustard?” Michael raised a delicate eyebrow.
“No the ‘Sunshine Daisy’ one.” Adam corrected, thanking God that Dean wasn’t there to pick at the broken pieces of Adam’s masculinity.
“Perhaps we should wait until we receive news. It’ll make the decision easier.” Michael ‘hmm’ed as he began to tidy the tester pots away.
“What news?” Adam stared at Michael’s ass as his angel bent over. The two ‘Sunshine Daisy’ handprints really stood out against the dark blue of Michael’s (and Adam’s…simply because they left nothing to the imagination, nothing) favourite jeans. Michael stood to face Adam with a serious expression and a lime green thumb print on his left cheek.
“Our child. I have already began the necessary legalities to adopt a baby.” Adam’s brain froze.
“Huh?” Michael looked exasperated, like they’d had this conversation several times before. Except they haven’t and Adam’s a little pissed off that he’s late to this particular party.
“We are adopting a child. Miss Stewart has been exceptionally helpful in the process…Though she does squeal a lot…” Michael trailed off.
“You’ve already hired a social worker? When exactly were you going to tell me we were adopting?” Adam yelled.
“Just now.” Michael responded with a smile.
“…You’re not allowed to hang around Dean anymore, you’re picking up bad habits.” Adam glared at his smug angel.
“Is that your consent?” Michael asked, a hint of worry in his voice. Adam sighed.
“I’ve not said ‘no’ to you yet. Not going to start now.” Michael beamed and Adam figured sleepless nights and football games or recitals were worth it. “I’m not changing the diaper.”
“Yes you will…” Michael returned to tucking the tester pots back into their plastic bag.
“I don’t why I love you.” Adam huffed.
“But you do.” Michael mumbled, a little sing-song like. Adam snorted, Yeah he did.
...In which I fail at writing cute fluff.
When Adam agreed to move in with Michael, he did so with an open mind.
After all, Archangel with zero social skills. Adam smiled and planned for the worst.
He hadn’t expected Suburbia. Neat cut lawns, white picket fence…neighbours who brought you homemade muffins. But apparently his socially backward archangel had been studying (Desperate Housewives by the look of things but at least he was trying). So Adam endured the stepford wives act that now surrounded him (by ensuring the whole property was monster/demon/anything supernatural proof) and the weekly drive (a minivan? Dean still hadn’t stopped laughing) to the local supermarket for groceries because Michael seemed really pleased with his little slice of the American dream and Adam didn’t want to burst the giant fluff balls bubble.
Because Michael, God’s fiercest warrior, gave Sam Winchester a run for his money with the Puppy Dog Eyes.
“Perhaps green?” Michael suggested and Adam zoned back into their current domestic decision. Painting the spare room.
“I liked the yellow.” Adam replied holding the paint charts up and squinting his eyes to match the drying paint on the wall to the colourful blocks on the little slips of paper.
“The mustard?” Michael raised a delicate eyebrow.
“No the ‘Sunshine Daisy’ one.” Adam corrected, thanking God that Dean wasn’t there to pick at the broken pieces of Adam’s masculinity.
“Perhaps we should wait until we receive news. It’ll make the decision easier.” Michael ‘hmm’ed as he began to tidy the tester pots away.
“What news?” Adam stared at Michael’s ass as his angel bent over. The two ‘Sunshine Daisy’ handprints really stood out against the dark blue of Michael’s (and Adam’s…simply because they left nothing to the imagination, nothing) favourite jeans. Michael stood to face Adam with a serious expression and a lime green thumb print on his left cheek.
“Our child. I have already began the necessary legalities to adopt a baby.” Adam’s brain froze.
“Huh?” Michael looked exasperated, like they’d had this conversation several times before. Except they haven’t and Adam’s a little pissed off that he’s late to this particular party.
“We are adopting a child. Miss Stewart has been exceptionally helpful in the process…Though she does squeal a lot…” Michael trailed off.
“You’ve already hired a social worker? When exactly were you going to tell me we were adopting?” Adam yelled.
“Just now.” Michael responded with a smile.
“…You’re not allowed to hang around Dean anymore, you’re picking up bad habits.” Adam glared at his smug angel.
“Is that your consent?” Michael asked, a hint of worry in his voice. Adam sighed.
“I’ve not said ‘no’ to you yet. Not going to start now.” Michael beamed and Adam figured sleepless nights and football games or recitals were worth it. “I’m not changing the diaper.”
“Yes you will…” Michael returned to tucking the tester pots back into their plastic bag.
“I don’t why I love you.” Adam huffed.
“But you do.” Michael mumbled, a little sing-song like. Adam snorted, Yeah he did.
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