Third in the series of Human!AU starting here and continued here.
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By the time Michael comes home, Adam and Lucifer have cleaned up the shattered mess of Michael’s liquor cabinet and straightened their ruined clothes from the previous night. When Adam saw Lucifer to the door, the parting had been surprisingly comfortable: even amicable.
Adam is grateful for Lucifer. Last night was the first time they had a real conversation, and it helped to have someone who knew what it was like when the love of your life stopped seeing you when you were right in front of them.
Adam pities Lucifer for knowing this hurt so well.
Adam wonders if he should be wary of Lucifer who took him apart so easily in his hands. He isn’t.
“What is that?”
Adam looks up sharply from the bowls he’d been unstacking in the dishwasher to the kitchen counter. He glances over his shoulder and around the room, but nobody else is there, and he feels stupidly incredulous when he realises that Michael is staring at him.
“Are you talking to me?” Adam blurts because Michael hasn’t so much at looked at him except to criticise or glare in the last month.
Michael stands on the other side of the counter, just beyond arm’s reach, and he’s wearing the same suit from the night before when he stormed back to the office.
Adam wondered sometimes if Michael was moving into his workplace just to avoid the sight of him.
“What is that?” Michael’s voice is sharp, and his blue eyes narrow at something below Adam’s eyes.
And then it comes flooding back to Adam: the burn of his necktie cording tighter around his throat, around any thoughts or voice about the reality Adam was drowning in except for Lucifer’s hand over his cock and the sweet, strangled climb towards oblivion.
The skin of his neck feels raw and tender when he lifts a hand to touch experimentally. Shit, why didn’t he remember to cover this up before Michael came home?
Well, maybe because he didn’t expect to see Michael at all.
His eyes widen when Michael rounds the counter, briefcase forgotten on the dining table. His attention is fixed on the angry, red cloth burn around Adam’s neck, and Adam flinches when Michael reaches for him.
Michael stops with a look of surprise.
“Adam, what happened?” His voice has softened, he searches Adam’s face carefully, and Adam’s heart hammers painfully against his ribs.
He can’t remember the last time Michael looked at him as though he cared. That hurts.
The sting in his eyes is completely unbidden and he shakes his head when Michael steps in, hands taking his shoulders, because he doesn’t want Michael to touch him after what Adam did, after the horrible way Michael’s been treating him, but oh God, what Adam did….
“Adam.” Michael sounds crestfallen and he hugs Adam to his chest, careful and tight.
Adam sobs when Michael kisses his forehead. What did Michael think he was doing? After the torture of the last few months, to pretend he cared now?
He tries to tell Michael to let go and get off because they weren’t on speaking terms – let alone touching – and Adam is so furious he’s trembling.
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
“Who did this to you? What happened? Adam, who hurt you?” Michael pushes a hand through Adam’s hair, looking so concerned he’s almost moved to pain, and Adam finally understands.
Michael thinks Adam was attacked.
Adam is shaking his head before he’s thinking it through, but his tremors are so bad that his weak efforts to put distance between them are easily overpowered.
“No.” Adam shakes his head, his voice is thick and choked, cracking under the weight of uncertainty. “No, I don’t want you –“
I don’t want you to pity me. I don’t want you to touch me only because you think somebody else did.
Michael’s flinch of hurt stills as he studies Adam’s face. The hurt shifts and slowly melts into understanding.
Supernatural, Michael/Adam, NC-17 (power issues, begging, biting) - 1/3
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By the time Michael comes home, Adam and Lucifer have cleaned up the shattered mess of Michael’s liquor cabinet and straightened their ruined clothes from the previous night. When Adam saw Lucifer to the door, the parting had been surprisingly comfortable: even amicable.
Adam is grateful for Lucifer. Last night was the first time they had a real conversation, and it helped to have someone who knew what it was like when the love of your life stopped seeing you when you were right in front of them.
Adam pities Lucifer for knowing this hurt so well.
Adam wonders if he should be wary of Lucifer who took him apart so easily in his hands. He isn’t.
“What is that?”
Adam looks up sharply from the bowls he’d been unstacking in the dishwasher to the kitchen counter. He glances over his shoulder and around the room, but nobody else is there, and he feels stupidly incredulous when he realises that Michael is staring at him.
“Are you talking to me?” Adam blurts because Michael hasn’t so much at looked at him except to criticise or glare in the last month.
Michael stands on the other side of the counter, just beyond arm’s reach, and he’s wearing the same suit from the night before when he stormed back to the office.
Adam wondered sometimes if Michael was moving into his workplace just to avoid the sight of him.
“What is that?” Michael’s voice is sharp, and his blue eyes narrow at something below Adam’s eyes.
And then it comes flooding back to Adam: the burn of his necktie cording tighter around his throat, around any thoughts or voice about the reality Adam was drowning in except for Lucifer’s hand over his cock and the sweet, strangled climb towards oblivion.
The skin of his neck feels raw and tender when he lifts a hand to touch experimentally. Shit, why didn’t he remember to cover this up before Michael came home?
Well, maybe because he didn’t expect to see Michael at all.
His eyes widen when Michael rounds the counter, briefcase forgotten on the dining table. His attention is fixed on the angry, red cloth burn around Adam’s neck, and Adam flinches when Michael reaches for him.
Michael stops with a look of surprise.
“Adam, what happened?” His voice has softened, he searches Adam’s face carefully, and Adam’s heart hammers painfully against his ribs.
He can’t remember the last time Michael looked at him as though he cared. That hurts.
The sting in his eyes is completely unbidden and he shakes his head when Michael steps in, hands taking his shoulders, because he doesn’t want Michael to touch him after what Adam did, after the horrible way Michael’s been treating him, but oh God, what Adam did….
“Adam.” Michael sounds crestfallen and he hugs Adam to his chest, careful and tight.
Adam sobs when Michael kisses his forehead. What did Michael think he was doing? After the torture of the last few months, to pretend he cared now?
He tries to tell Michael to let go and get off because they weren’t on speaking terms – let alone touching – and Adam is so furious he’s trembling.
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
“Who did this to you? What happened? Adam, who hurt you?” Michael pushes a hand through Adam’s hair, looking so concerned he’s almost moved to pain, and Adam finally understands.
Michael thinks Adam was attacked.
Adam is shaking his head before he’s thinking it through, but his tremors are so bad that his weak efforts to put distance between them are easily overpowered.
“No.” Adam shakes his head, his voice is thick and choked, cracking under the weight of uncertainty. “No, I don’t want you –“
I don’t want you to pity me. I don’t want you to touch me only because you think somebody else did.
Michael’s flinch of hurt stills as he studies Adam’s face. The hurt shifts and slowly melts into understanding.
Adam wonders how ugly his guilt looks.