It hurts, at first, when Dean comes out and tells him, “I don't... I can't see you as a brother, Adam. I just can't. Sorry.”
Only at first.
Okay, so it's true. Adam jerks himself off thinking of Dean sometimes and maybe that isn't the kind of thing you do with your brother, but in Adam's defense, he's never had a brother to jerk off to before. Maybe it is the norm, for all he knows.
He knows Sam is Dean's One True Brother™ (capitalization and trademark required), but the thing is, Dean thinks of Cas all bromantically, too. It's only Adam he stares at for long periods of time, then looks away from quickly when Adam tries to catch his gaze; it's only Adam who pisses Dean off by doing something innocuous like ordering a vanilla ice cream cone during their down time.
So Adam does what he thinks is best, although he really has been enjoying the community feel that developed between them all. He sits Sam down, takes his hand (because Sam is sensitive and appreciates shit like that) and says, “I think I should go.”
Sam blinks at him, then asks, “Where? Dean's at the supermarket now. I'm sure he'll remember you like two percent milk.”
“No, you dunce,” Adam grumbles. He releases Sam's hand like it bit him and glowers at it a moment, before trying again, slow and patient, in the same tone he'd use on one of his boy-scouts. “I think Dean hates me. And, yeah, I know you adore me, but it's time I got outta your hair. You'd only get bitter if I put a wedge between you and Dean.”
Sam stares. Adam stares back. He thinks he did a really valiant job getting his message across, but when Sam says, “You're right. You should go,” it still feels like a punch to the gut.
“Wow, Sam, cry more, why don'tcha?” he mutters, wishing he'd never taken Sam's hand; mean moose don't deserve kindness. He mutters as much under his breath and Sam quirks an eyebrow at him, a smirk crooking his lips. Just as loudly, Adam adds how some people just aren't meant to leer like that. Sam's cheery expression melts into what Dean calls his bitchface.
“What I mean,” Sam says, “is that you should leave and take Dean with you. Go on a trip, just the two of you. Try living together a while. Cas and I are tired of your pining, man. It's pathetic.”
Adam scowls, lips twisted into a pout. “Dude, I'm so far from pathetic. Michael will vouch. I'm fucking awesome.”
“I'm sure your blue balls agree.” Sam smirk widens.
Adam scrunches his nose and replies, “Dude, don't talk about my balls. That's gross.”
“I won't, but only because Dean would rather talk about them. And touch them.” Sam's face crumples, as well. “Bad thoughts.” He clears his throat and gathers his bearings again, forehead crinkled in determination now. “Seriously, though, Adam, he cares about you. A lot. I've never seen him go without girls for as long as he has, so if you want him, too, and I know you do 'cause I've seen you two eyefuck each other, do something about it. Hash it out like healthy people in a relationship, at least this once.”
Adam's eyes round at Sam's conviction, but he mumbles, “Okay,” then inhales a deep breath to steel his nerves as much as Sam's. “You think you could leave a while?” he asks, to which Sam nods like an enthusiastic puppy. It becomes a matter of wearing Dean down, afterward.
When Dean returns to their motel room from the supermarket, no one but Adam, dressed in nothing but one of Dean's older plaid shirts, is there. Dean drops his shopping bags and stammers, “A-Adam?”
“In the flesh. Literally.” Adam swipes his tongue across his grinning lips and watches Dean follow the motion with wide eyes. He crooks a finger to beckon Dean forward, to the bed where he already sits. “Sam's out. Seems to think we needed some brotherly bonding time.”
Dean's eyes flick away and his cheeks flush red. “If this is some kinda joke, kid,” he grumbles, trailing off to leave the threat in the air.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
regna
[SPN]: Operation Seduce Dean Winchester (Dean/Adam, biting, orgasm denial, domesticity, etc, 1/2)
Date: 2012-04-15 02:19 am (UTC)Only at first.
Okay, so it's true. Adam jerks himself off thinking of Dean sometimes and maybe that isn't the kind of thing you do with your brother, but in Adam's defense, he's never had a brother to jerk off to before. Maybe it is the norm, for all he knows.
He knows Sam is Dean's One True Brother™ (capitalization and trademark required), but the thing is, Dean thinks of Cas all bromantically, too. It's only Adam he stares at for long periods of time, then looks away from quickly when Adam tries to catch his gaze; it's only Adam who pisses Dean off by doing something innocuous like ordering a vanilla ice cream cone during their down time.
So Adam does what he thinks is best, although he really has been enjoying the community feel that developed between them all. He sits Sam down, takes his hand (because Sam is sensitive and appreciates shit like that) and says, “I think I should go.”
Sam blinks at him, then asks, “Where? Dean's at the supermarket now. I'm sure he'll remember you like two percent milk.”
“No, you dunce,” Adam grumbles. He releases Sam's hand like it bit him and glowers at it a moment, before trying again, slow and patient, in the same tone he'd use on one of his boy-scouts. “I think Dean hates me. And, yeah, I know you adore me, but it's time I got outta your hair. You'd only get bitter if I put a wedge between you and Dean.”
Sam stares. Adam stares back. He thinks he did a really valiant job getting his message across, but when Sam says, “You're right. You should go,” it still feels like a punch to the gut.
“Wow, Sam, cry more, why don'tcha?” he mutters, wishing he'd never taken Sam's hand; mean moose don't deserve kindness. He mutters as much under his breath and Sam quirks an eyebrow at him, a smirk crooking his lips. Just as loudly, Adam adds how some people just aren't meant to leer like that. Sam's cheery expression melts into what Dean calls his bitchface.
“What I mean,” Sam says, “is that you should leave and take Dean with you. Go on a trip, just the two of you. Try living together a while. Cas and I are tired of your pining, man. It's pathetic.”
Adam scowls, lips twisted into a pout. “Dude, I'm so far from pathetic. Michael will vouch. I'm fucking awesome.”
“I'm sure your blue balls agree.” Sam smirk widens.
Adam scrunches his nose and replies, “Dude, don't talk about my balls. That's gross.”
“I won't, but only because Dean would rather talk about them. And touch them.” Sam's face crumples, as well. “Bad thoughts.” He clears his throat and gathers his bearings again, forehead crinkled in determination now. “Seriously, though, Adam, he cares about you. A lot. I've never seen him go without girls for as long as he has, so if you want him, too, and I know you do 'cause I've seen you two eyefuck each other, do something about it. Hash it out like healthy people in a relationship, at least this once.”
Adam's eyes round at Sam's conviction, but he mumbles, “Okay,” then inhales a deep breath to steel his nerves as much as Sam's. “You think you could leave a while?” he asks, to which Sam nods like an enthusiastic puppy. It becomes a matter of wearing Dean down, afterward.
When Dean returns to their motel room from the supermarket, no one but Adam, dressed in nothing but one of Dean's older plaid shirts, is there. Dean drops his shopping bags and stammers, “A-Adam?”
“In the flesh. Literally.” Adam swipes his tongue across his grinning lips and watches Dean follow the motion with wide eyes. He crooks a finger to beckon Dean forward, to the bed where he already sits. “Sam's out. Seems to think we needed some brotherly bonding time.”
Dean's eyes flick away and his cheeks flush red. “If this is some kinda joke, kid,” he grumbles, trailing off to leave the threat in the air.