dean/adam ramblings
Adam feels slightly better having gotten at least one of the truths out. Something that appeased Dean into thinking that he’d gotten everything off his chest, which meant less sharing and caring which meant less jealous Sam, which ultimately meant a happier hunting party.
They only had the one laptop between the three of them and while Sam had been using it for more, uh, personal reasons when they got back, he quickly turned it to research once they arrived. Normally Adam really enjoyed helping Sam with research and probably would have if he weren’t so fucking tired. Dean himself was only half-listening to Sam, his eyes mostly gazing at the TV as best he could from the bed closest to the bathroom.
“So it looks like this has been happening for a long time,” Sam told them, “every five years around this time, people start dying in their sleep, no cause.”
“There seem to be any connection at all between the victims?” Dean asked.
“Nope, whatever it is doesn’t discriminate, goes for young and old, men, women, and every color in the rainbow,” Sam replied, “So, you know, that’s helpful.”
Adam was curled up on the tiny ass couch, all covered in lint and dust. Lenny was lying on the floor in front of the AC unit, and Sam had started his usual routine of tidying up Dean’s mess before bed. It was late, and too hot, and the back of Adam’s neck was still itching from the weight of Dean’s hand there. Uselessly he scratched at the peeling skin, maybe a little too hard but he was never the best judge of that.
He could feel Dean stop by the couch, hand on the top of it, and his eyes lingering on the side of his face. For past few months since the necromancer case, Dean had shared a bed with him, in the vain hope of keeping the happy influence of physical proximity a constant, to try and make Adam happy. It was a double-edged sword, Adam soon found out however, because feelings he’d all but forgotten had cropped up as a result of Dean’s well-meaning platonic closeness.
As it was, with Sam jealously sulking by himself in the front bed, there was no real way for Dean to say ‘hey you can come to bed now’ without starting a fight, no matter how he phrased it. Instead, Dean leaned over him and grabbed the remote to turn off the TV, brushing their arms together seemingly by accident. Adam glanced up at him, following the twist of his arm up to his face, and he tried to look away, really. But he had that look on his face, the same one in the car from earlier during their talk, the one that said ‘just read me, please’, and Adam did.
Opening the door of his tightly locked mind to Dean was terrifying and comforting all at the same time. Behind those green eyes were a worry, fresh and mild, behind which a well of relief and comfort poured out nestled in with a fount of affection. Adam wanted to curl up there and he did for a minute, not realizing that Dean had picked him up at first, until he was being set down on their bed. Once Dean was out of sight, Adam was shucked out of his mind and it was somehow cold and empty in the real world.
The worst part was being able to feel Sam’s resentment; even if he didn’t have the extra help from his newfound ability he’d be able to feel it. This and palpable and it made him feel like shit. It wasn’t like Adam asked for any of this. He had never expected Dean to change, or asked him to, and he was fine with the way things had been. But then one freaking night Dean had to go and throw a wrench in everything with that stupid arm around his neck; pulling him in, breathing against his neck.
Adam shoved off the bed and got ready to make all of the naps. He scrounged up his pajama pants and peeled off his disgusting, rank ass shirt he’d been wearing all day. He crawled back into bed, and he faced away from Sam, only because he hated feeling guilty, and he felt consumed by it most of the time for a wide variety of things anyways. He didn’t need this other thing added onto it.
He could hear Sam reach over and turn off the lights on the nightstand, and he wished that he could not be afraid of the dark. But something about being locked into a sarcophagus in an ancient tomb for a day or two would do that to a person. It also made it that much harder to prepare himself for Dean crawling into bed, because he always turned off the bathroom light before he opened the door because he was a god damn freak, and Adam hated it.
When Dean had been the one to find him in the crypt, Adam hadn’t known who he was, he’d just thought ‘this mother fucker’, and been questioning his sexuality ever since. At some point upon his swift return into his life, however, Adam’s attraction was smothered and overridden by fear and he hadn’t really thought much on it until recently. He’d been trying without much success to avoid sharing a bed with Dean for the past week or two, simply because it was getting more and more difficult to kill the butterfly swarm in his stomach. That and it was also becoming near impossible to keep his feelings off of his face, and when some of those feelings were dreamy ogling, it was kind of relevant that those never be seen.
The bathroom door opened and Adam braced himself for Dean to sink down into bed next to him, but it didn’t happen. Adam creaked his eyes open and saw that Dean wasn’t anywhere near him, in fact he couldn’t see him anywhere in the room. But then the couch creaked, and Adam wanted to cuss at him. He was sleeping on the couch before Dean moved him. But of course he would move him, the self-sacrificing angry douche nozzle-Adam was beyond fuming.
He reached out to where he figured Dean’s head was on the couch, and tried to force his way into it, prying the door open on his own mind as well as Dean’s. All he had to work with were feelings so he tried to put as many in there as he could. Anger, confusion, and a whiny sort of affection that he hated to admit to himself were there. He threw all of that and tried to put forth the image of what he was kind of hoping but not hoping but wanting to have happen, which was them sleeping like normal.
Adam had never really tried this before, he’d only ever examined and observed and it had never occurred to him before this moment of petty frustration to use it as a two way street. He didn’t even know for sure if it worked, so he probed around in Dean’s emotions to find a myriad whirlwind of feeling. Exasperation, confusion, fatigue, worry, and behind all of it a weary affection, and Adam was thinking that maybe it hadn’t worked when Dean appeared. Lumbered over from the couch and fell down into the bed.
He couldn’t really see Dean’s face too well, but he could feel the wave of emotions rolling off of him, and a general vibe of ‘we’re going to have words tomorrow’. Adam couldn’t reach out, and he knew that Dean knew that. He was relying on him to initiate the contact so he wouldn’t be lying there frustrated and fearful and tired all night.
Dean reached over to him and pulled him over by his hip, wrapping him up in his arms, and from the second his hand was on Adam’s waist he was tingling all over like he was numb before and now he was waking up. TV static under his skin and he tried to fight it but Dean’s arms were around his waist and he was pulling him backwards so the he could lay on his back and Adam was half on top of him a little bit. He was trying so hard to bite the inside of his cheek to keep the smile hidden that his whole body was shaking with the effort of his repression.
Dean tried to help him, tried by running a hand down his arm, to hold him tighter to keep him from shaking all the way of the bed.
They only had the one laptop between the three of them and while Sam had been using it for more, uh, personal reasons when they got back, he quickly turned it to research once they arrived. Normally Adam really enjoyed helping Sam with research and probably would have if he weren’t so fucking tired. Dean himself was only half-listening to Sam, his eyes mostly gazing at the TV as best he could from the bed closest to the bathroom.
“So it looks like this has been happening for a long time,” Sam told them, “every five years around this time, people start dying in their sleep, no cause.”
“There seem to be any connection at all between the victims?” Dean asked.
“Nope, whatever it is doesn’t discriminate, goes for young and old, men, women, and every color in the rainbow,” Sam replied, “So, you know, that’s helpful.”
Adam was curled up on the tiny ass couch, all covered in lint and dust. Lenny was lying on the floor in front of the AC unit, and Sam had started his usual routine of tidying up Dean’s mess before bed. It was late, and too hot, and the back of Adam’s neck was still itching from the weight of Dean’s hand there. Uselessly he scratched at the peeling skin, maybe a little too hard but he was never the best judge of that.
He could feel Dean stop by the couch, hand on the top of it, and his eyes lingering on the side of his face. For past few months since the necromancer case, Dean had shared a bed with him, in the vain hope of keeping the happy influence of physical proximity a constant, to try and make Adam happy. It was a double-edged sword, Adam soon found out however, because feelings he’d all but forgotten had cropped up as a result of Dean’s well-meaning platonic closeness.
As it was, with Sam jealously sulking by himself in the front bed, there was no real way for Dean to say ‘hey you can come to bed now’ without starting a fight, no matter how he phrased it. Instead, Dean leaned over him and grabbed the remote to turn off the TV, brushing their arms together seemingly by accident. Adam glanced up at him, following the twist of his arm up to his face, and he tried to look away, really. But he had that look on his face, the same one in the car from earlier during their talk, the one that said ‘just read me, please’, and Adam did.
Opening the door of his tightly locked mind to Dean was terrifying and comforting all at the same time. Behind those green eyes were a worry, fresh and mild, behind which a well of relief and comfort poured out nestled in with a fount of affection. Adam wanted to curl up there and he did for a minute, not realizing that Dean had picked him up at first, until he was being set down on their bed. Once Dean was out of sight, Adam was shucked out of his mind and it was somehow cold and empty in the real world.
The worst part was being able to feel Sam’s resentment; even if he didn’t have the extra help from his newfound ability he’d be able to feel it. This and palpable and it made him feel like shit. It wasn’t like Adam asked for any of this. He had never expected Dean to change, or asked him to, and he was fine with the way things had been. But then one freaking night Dean had to go and throw a wrench in everything with that stupid arm around his neck; pulling him in, breathing against his neck.
Adam shoved off the bed and got ready to make all of the naps. He scrounged up his pajama pants and peeled off his disgusting, rank ass shirt he’d been wearing all day. He crawled back into bed, and he faced away from Sam, only because he hated feeling guilty, and he felt consumed by it most of the time for a wide variety of things anyways. He didn’t need this other thing added onto it.
He could hear Sam reach over and turn off the lights on the nightstand, and he wished that he could not be afraid of the dark. But something about being locked into a sarcophagus in an ancient tomb for a day or two would do that to a person. It also made it that much harder to prepare himself for Dean crawling into bed, because he always turned off the bathroom light before he opened the door because he was a god damn freak, and Adam hated it.
When Dean had been the one to find him in the crypt, Adam hadn’t known who he was, he’d just thought ‘this mother fucker’, and been questioning his sexuality ever since. At some point upon his swift return into his life, however, Adam’s attraction was smothered and overridden by fear and he hadn’t really thought much on it until recently. He’d been trying without much success to avoid sharing a bed with Dean for the past week or two, simply because it was getting more and more difficult to kill the butterfly swarm in his stomach. That and it was also becoming near impossible to keep his feelings off of his face, and when some of those feelings were dreamy ogling, it was kind of relevant that those never be seen.
The bathroom door opened and Adam braced himself for Dean to sink down into bed next to him, but it didn’t happen. Adam creaked his eyes open and saw that Dean wasn’t anywhere near him, in fact he couldn’t see him anywhere in the room. But then the couch creaked, and Adam wanted to cuss at him. He was sleeping on the couch before Dean moved him. But of course he would move him, the self-sacrificing angry douche nozzle-Adam was beyond fuming.
He reached out to where he figured Dean’s head was on the couch, and tried to force his way into it, prying the door open on his own mind as well as Dean’s. All he had to work with were feelings so he tried to put as many in there as he could. Anger, confusion, and a whiny sort of affection that he hated to admit to himself were there. He threw all of that and tried to put forth the image of what he was kind of hoping but not hoping but wanting to have happen, which was them sleeping like normal.
Adam had never really tried this before, he’d only ever examined and observed and it had never occurred to him before this moment of petty frustration to use it as a two way street. He didn’t even know for sure if it worked, so he probed around in Dean’s emotions to find a myriad whirlwind of feeling. Exasperation, confusion, fatigue, worry, and behind all of it a weary affection, and Adam was thinking that maybe it hadn’t worked when Dean appeared. Lumbered over from the couch and fell down into the bed.
He couldn’t really see Dean’s face too well, but he could feel the wave of emotions rolling off of him, and a general vibe of ‘we’re going to have words tomorrow’. Adam couldn’t reach out, and he knew that Dean knew that. He was relying on him to initiate the contact so he wouldn’t be lying there frustrated and fearful and tired all night.
Dean reached over to him and pulled him over by his hip, wrapping him up in his arms, and from the second his hand was on Adam’s waist he was tingling all over like he was numb before and now he was waking up. TV static under his skin and he tried to fight it but Dean’s arms were around his waist and he was pulling him backwards so the he could lay on his back and Adam was half on top of him a little bit. He was trying so hard to bite the inside of his cheek to keep the smile hidden that his whole body was shaking with the effort of his repression.
Dean tried to help him, tried by running a hand down his arm, to hold him tighter to keep him from shaking all the way of the bed.