Artist & Beta: the wonderful _bluebells
Pairing(s) / Character(s): Adam/Michael, Dean/Castiel, hints of Sam/Gabriel, hints of Dean/Gabriel, staged Dean/Adam
Warnings: barely-legal, porn, pseudo-incest, stalking, violence
Word Count: 16,674
Notes: I want to thank _bluebells again for all the help she's given me both in beta'ing this and also providing the amazing art. But my thanks also goes out to bellacatbee who encouraged me to join in the first place, who gave me guidance and helped me when I'd written myself into corners. Without her help I would not have been able to finish this story.
Summary: All Adam wanted was to be a normal teenager. Do normal things like date and throw some house parties and maybe have his friends around to watch marathons of Indiana Jones films. The only problem was that his best friend had a major crush on Adam's big brother, rendering any social situation they share totally awkward. Oh, and Adam's career as an internet porn starlet. Things weren't so bad, at least, until Michael stepped into his life and everything was thrown into chaos.
He didn’t notice the passage of time, but Spring Break was over soon enough, although Adam didn’t care much. He refused to do any filming; he didn’t want to do any live chats. His heart wasn’t in it, and, although Dean was getting visibly twitchy, Sam shook his head and wouldn’t let another word be said on the matter. It didn’t make for brilliant breakfast time, especially as Gabriel still hadn’t left. The three brothers sat there while Gabriel tried, and failed, to lighten the mood. He only got the briefest of smiles from Sam, unnoticed by the others.
When Castiel knocked at the door, it was Dean who was first to his feet, escaping the kitchen and letting Castiel in.
“Michael has returned to college,” he said, instead of saying hello like a normal person, taking a piece of paper from his pocket, and holding it out. “Sam, he told me to give you his email address, if you have any more questions. He was worried that he did not get to speak to you more but....” He didn’t finish that sentence, glancing momentarily to Dean.
Sam leaned forward, taking it, but didn’t really look at it, sticking it to the fridge. Michael hadn’t actually done anything, but it was his attitude that had made Sam think twice about wanting to ask too much of him. Gabriel wasn’t exactly normal, but neither were Dean or Adam for that matter, but they weren’t bad people, they weren’t wrong, and Michael should have been able to forgive his brother, to speak to him. Michael hadn’t let Castiel go to the Winchester’s house at all that week, not while Castiel was in his care and their parents away.
“Thanks. I’ll... speak to him if I need him.” Sam said, trying to at least put a positive spin on the situation, giving time for Adam to get his school bag together.
“You kids need a lift, right?” Dean asked then, picking his car keys up off the kitchen counter. “I’ve got to head that way anyhow.”
“Yes please, Dean, I’d very much like-“
“No, we’ll get the bus-“
Adam and Cas answered in tandem, and it was only the hurt look in Castiel’s eyes that made Adam relent.
“Fine. You can give us a lift, Dean.”
He piled into the back, despite being the first one to the Impala. He didn’t really want to be too close to Dean at that point. Despite his denial that Dean could like him, Castiel was walking close to the man, hugging his book-bag to his chest. It made Adam want to hurl. He just pulled his coat closer around him and tried to ignore them until the car pulled up outside the school gates.
He didn’t bother calling Dean for a lift home. Castiel was staying late to take part in Debate Club, and, for once, Adam didn’t want to hang around in the library waiting for his fellow senior to finish for the day. Instead, he decided to walk home, to clear his mind somehow and to feel better for it. Walking helped, that’s what everyone said. So, he walked, the crowd of other teens thinning around him as they reached their cars, or their bus stops, or as their walk home took them down other paths.
Adam didn’t rightly know where he was going. He didn’t care either, because walking would make it all better. He’d feel human again, afterwards, maybe not normal, maybe not sane, but human, and he needed that.
He didn’t expect his feet to carry him to the coffee shop. The one Michael had taken him to. The one where, for a little while, everything had been right. And while part of him told him to keep on walking, a louder part of him told him to go in. There was warmth there, the smell of cookies, muffins, sliced cake and coffee. That same CD was on repeat, the one that had been the perfect background for Michael’s voice.
Adam felt better. He didn’t know what it was, but the place... it sung out to him, somehow, it made things feel a little bit better. His life was messed up, his family was dysfunctional and if any medical school ever bothered to search for him on the internet when he applied, he was never, ever going to get in.
But none of that mattered as he got in the queue, ordered his latte and took himself off to one of the sofas right at the back. He had comics in his bag, a coffee, and maybe for a while he could forget about everything else. An hour of normalcy was all he wanted.
He tugged his phone out of his pocket. Sam would still be in lectures; Dean would be at Bobby’s scrap yard. Adam sent a message to both of them anyway, told them not to worry, he was having coffee and he’d be home later. Turning it off, he threw it into the bottom of his bag, settling down into the chair and working his way through his books.
He had more than an hour there, in the end. He read all the comics he’d had with him, had another latte and a slice of Rocky Road before even contemplating leaving. But he had to, in the end. The sky was still light outside, but he did have homework, and at least one of his brothers, Sam most likely, would begin to worry.
Packing everything away and heading from his seat to the doors up front took only a second, but it was in that second that everything seemed to change.
The music was still the same, the temperature hadn’t dropped. The place still smelled like a coffee shop. But there was a presence there, something that made the hair on the back of his neck and his arms stand up, and he turned.
It was probably nothing; he knew that, he was in a coffee shop, he’d had too much caffeine and werewolf comics had just unsettled him, that was all. There was nothing more to it than that. And he was right. There was nothing there.
Just a guy, watching him. The guy who had recognised him before.
“... Adam?” The man was already getting up, a look on his face that Adam didn’t like at all.
Adam quickened his pace, reaching the door and heading out before the guy could corner him.
“Adam! I want to ask you something!” He called again, but Adam wasn’t about to look back, he wasn’t about to slow down.
He was almost running by the time he got to the end of the street, fuelled by fear, fresh and churning in his stomach. Although he knew he hadn’t been followed, he couldn’t stop. He wasn’t about to stop running until he was home, until he could lock all the doors and windows, and hide in his room.
And that was what he did, fumbling with the front door key with trembling hands, he lungs burning and his legs ready to drop off. Once he got the door open, he slammed it shut behind him.
“DEAN! SAM!” He called, voice almost broken from ragged breathing, but he was loud enough to have his words echo around the cold, empty house.
He knew there was no one else there. Sam’s shoes weren’t by the rack, Dean’s car wasn’t in the drive, and Gabriel’s signature of loud, obnoxious pop music was absent. Adam held back a sob, rushing to the kitchen and snatching the piece of paper from the refrigerator door on his way upstairs, barricading himself in his room.
He didn’t want to be alone, but there was no one; even Cas was still back at his stupid Debate Club.
Adam didn’t know why he did it, but it was without thinking - switching on the computer and loading up his email before he did anything else.
Michael, I need to talk to you. Are you there? It’s me, Adam, and I know you don’t want to talk to me but I don’t have anyone else I can talk to
I’m here. What’s wrong? What’s Gabriel done?
Not Gabriel. Can I call you? Please? The guy, from the coffee shop. He was there again. No one else is home
It was less than a minute later that the phone rang.
“I’m here. I’m so stupid, Michael, I’m sorry, I know you’re back at college and you’re probably busy and you have more important things to do and you don’t want to talk to me but I was so scared.”
“Don’t apologise. Talk to me, it’s alright. Making sure you are okay is more important than lecture notes.”
Adam was just about calm by the time Sam got home. Michael had talked to him solidly for an hour, easing the subject away from the man at the coffee shop, and then Adam had been laughing about some crummy show, the comics he’d been reading. He’d been smiling so hard that he’d forgotten all about running home in a panic, he’d forgotten everything apart from how good Michael’s voice sounded.
“Adam! Are you on the phone? I need to make a call!” Sam shouted up the stairs, just as Adam was giggling down the phone again, wrapped up in his blanket.
“I have to go. Can I call you tomorrow?”
“I’d like it if you did,” Michael replied, and, deep in his chest, Adam’s heart skipped a beat.
It had been three weeks since then. Three weeks and every night Michael had called, or Adam had called him. Adam had even sent him a few messages during the day, between lessons and whenever Michael could reply between lectures Adam felt the familiar ache in his chest and no matter what homework Professor Zachariah set, nothing spoilt his mood.
There were topics they avoided though, although no one had ever agreed not to mention them. Gabriel. Dean. Pornography. The coffee shop.
Adam could almost have forgotten about all those things, well, maybe not Dean and Gabriel. But everything else paled in comparison to Michael and whenever they spoke, no matter what about, Adam felt good. Better than he ever remembered feeling before.
Until one night.
“Adam?” Michael said down the telephone, while the teen was still chucking at something said just before. “I don’t want to change the subject, but... I’ve wanted to talk to you for a while. It’s nothing bad, okay-” The man added hastily, when Adam’s laughter abruptly stopped, the line filling with a horrible, dreadful silence.
“Are you-“ Adam began, not getting any further before Michael interrupted.
“Of course I’m not. But I don’t want there to be secrets between us. So... will you tell me about it?”
There was silence for a moment, Adam trying to control himself, get his breathing under control. There was no need for Michael to expand on what he meant by it. Adam had known that sooner or later, they’d have to talk about it. He was just hoping that that day wasn’t going to come for a long time yet.
“In Bed with Adam? I... okay. I guess. There’s not much to tell, really. I haven’t... felt like doing anything on it for a while. And it’s not been going long. Just since I turned eighteen. Dean set it all up for me-“ But Adam got no further than that.
“Dean? Your brother forced you into pornography?” Michael said, his voice shocked, appalled, and Adam didn’t need to even try to imagine his expression. Next time Michael was back home, he’d probably be straight round and he’d hit Dean square in the face.
“No! No! Of course he didn’t! Dean isn’t like that, Michael, he’s not like that at all. He didn’t want me doing it. But we needed the money. And he was doing it anyway. Filming every week. So... I made him let me do a video and it... it sort of took off.”
There was a silence on the other end of the line, as if Michael wasn’t sure if he believed this or not, or so Adam supposed. But when the other spoke again, it wasn’t to press for more information, trying to trip Adam up and uncover something creepy about Dean.
“I think Gabriel started doing it for the attention. He was... still living at home. And when our parents found out... they asked him to leave.” He paused a second. “I’d known before, what he was doing. I thought he’d keep it to himself. But... you’ve met Gabriel. He had an argument with father and it all came out.”
“I don’t know what my dad would say. I don’t know if he knew about Dean. Dean’s not exactly subtle either. I mean I knew about...” He almost said his crush on Cas but bit his tongue at the last moment, “His filming. He was always asking Sam how to stream videos.”
That made Michael chuckle, a welcome sound and Adam could feel his smile, even through the telephone line. “I doubt Dean would let your father kick you out, Adam. I shouldn’t have stood by and watched when Gabriel left. I wish I’d done something.”
“You could have let him stay, over Spring Break.”
There was no reply. Adam could feel his own heart beating, suddenly loud and fast and he cursed himself silently for not thinking before he spoke. But it was true. Michael could have let Gabriel stay. “I should have.” Michael answered, “It was stupid not to. I thought... he might blame me, for not standing up for him. He could have done something else with his life.”
Adam paused, glancing down at the text book in his lap. Biology. He’d been idly flicking through it while he waited for Michael’s call and now he felt something in his chest, like a fist closing around his heart. “I don’t want to do this forever, Michael. I don’t enjoy it. And I want to be a Doctor, I really do. But we need the money.”
“I know, Adam. I know. Money’s important but... I think being happy is more important.”
He still didn’t want to do any videos. The idea of it made him feel nauseous and he hardly had the time anyway. There were exams to be revising for, projects that he and Castiel had to complete. Projects that, truthfully, both he and Castiel could have completed without working as a pair. But Castiel had suggested it and Adam saw no reason why not, even if he knew the reasoning was less than pure. All Castiel did was stare at Dean when he was in the room anyway, blush if Dean spoke to him or even glanced his way.
The eye-fucking was reaching epic proportions again. Adam knew that, at some point, if something wasn’t done, one of them was going to explode from it. Dean might be the one to go first- he was still doing his own videos, jerking off hard and fast. Adam would watch, making sure the angle of the cameras was right, and Adam could see Castiel’s name ghosting on Dean’s lips as he came. Dean was good at controlling himself, the very best in fact, but Adam knew he couldn’t keep all that bottled up, not for much longer.
It was wrong; Adam knew that, it was wrong simply to want it, but Adam hated the will-they won’t-theys. He just wanted it to happen already, for his brother and best-friend to get it out of their systems.
Until one of the nights it was his turn to cook, Dean said he was taking them out for burgers. Castiel jumped at the chance. Burgers were his favourite thing, even more so than boring old library books or strange pockets of the internet. Castiel said yes even before Adam had looked up from his notes. Dean was wearing that stupid pleased look whenever Castiel agreed to something he suggested.
“Why don’t you two go pick up food? I’m not hungry. Got to finish this draft presentation off.” Adam ignored the conflicted look in Castiel’s eyes. Dean didn’t seem to care though, his arm quickly moving around Castiel’s shoulders.
“Alright, but don’t complain when we don’t bring you back anything.”
And with that, they were gone, Castiel and Dean out of his hair.
Adam knew, deep down, that he should do what he said, he had to get on with his presentation. The trouble was he wasn’t certain about where to go with it now, his mind had gone blank. He paused for several minutes, idly mapping out ideas that went nowhere, scrapping them even before he had them down on paper. He didn’t have anyone to bounce his ideas off, that was the trouble. Sam was out, Gabriel had found himself an apartment he could litter to his heart’s content, and Adam had just got rid of Cas. Dean could have gotten burgers by himself.
It was ten minutes later when his stomach rumbled. Maybe he’d been too hasty. Maybe he was hungry. He reached for his cell-phone, flicking through the list of names to find Castiel. Cas always had his phone, it was always in his pocket. Dean normally left his somewhere, forgot he even owned it. Cas was more reliable.
Adam pressed call and waited. It rang once, and then there was a strange noise: a bump, a crackle and then a laboured, organic sort of noise, like breathing, but more ragged.
“Did you turn it off?” Came a voice, deep and gravelly and Adam couldn’t believe it was his brother’s.
“I- I think so- Dean!” Castiel gasped, laughing and groaning all at once. There was more movement, and Adam knew he should disconnect the call. He should, but couldn’t. Not with Cas making those noises.
“Move your hips. That’s it, just rock them up, that’s it,” Dean was saying, his voice full of encouragement, Cas groaning again. That was when Dean made a hungry noise, a low, long growl of a sound.
“Fuck, Cas, you’re so fucking gorgeous-“
That was when Adam found his fingers working, terminating the call and trying to breathe normally, trying to pretend he wasn’t sort of hard. He was trembling, too, ignoring the work spread over the kitchen table, snatching up his phone again and heading up to his bedroom, already dialling Michael’s number.
“Evening, Adam, I thought you were working on your English Lit presentation tonight?”
“Michael, forget the presentation. I just heard our brothers have sex.”
There was an uneasy cough from the other end of the line. “Whatever Gabriel and Dean do-“
“It wasn’t Gabriel. It was Cas and Dean. It was... it was hot,” Adam said, blushing even in the privacy of his room, kicking off his jeans and dragging his hand over the bulge in his boxers. “Makes me sort of glad that I’m alone in the house... although it’d be better if you were here.”
His voice was dripping with promise at the end, breath hitching in his throat as he traced a finger over himself again. They’d been heading slowly, but surely (or so Adam felt) down this road. Flirting and laughing, and Michael was sending him texts during the day, telling him places they should go if Adam ever came to visit, places they might go next time Michael was there. But now Adam wanted more. He needed it. He just didn’t know he was holding his breath.
“If I was there, Adam? What would you want me to do if I was?” Michael replied, and that was it, that was exactly what Adam wanted, he let out the breath in a sort of giggle, laying down on the bed and pushing down his underwear.
“If you were here? Oh Michael, the things I want you to do to me... I want you to kiss me until I can’t breathe anymore, until my legs can’t hold me up-“
“Oh, I could do that, for you. But you don’t want me to just kiss you, do you?”
“I don’t think I’d be satisfied with just that, Michael,” Adam said, his fingers curling around his cock, lazily, slowly stroking. “I think I’d want you to fuck me. In my bed. I’d want you to pull my clothes off and force yourself between my legs. You’d push them apart and push your fingers into me; you’d tell me how good it felt, how tight I was and how much you wanted to fuck me. But you wouldn’t yet, you’d wait, fucking me on your fingers until I’m begging you....”
There was only so long their audiences could go without any updates, Dean had said.
There was only so long before their members would start cancelling their subscriptions and, once they hit that point, the site would go bust. Sam clearly didn't want to agree, but the cupboards were starting to look a bit bare and, even if Adam didn't want to do any videos, a little live chat couldn't hurt, could it? That way the subscribers wouldn't complain and all Adam would have to do is strip. It wasn't exactly hard work and Adam could cope with that.
Besides, an hour away from his real life would probably be just the break he needed; Castiel was beginning to panic over their prom, beginning to waver and change his mind about going. He'd been watching some stupid high-school movie and now he thought that if he went without a date, Dean would just turn up and dance with him or something. It was a stupid idea and no matter how many times Adam told his friend that, the message just didn't seem to get through.
Maybe it was a little... hypocritical. Adam had already told Cas, Dean and Sam he wasn’t going to the prom. But he’d dreamed one night that Michael turned up in his tux and with a red rose on his lapel and swept Adam off in a fancy stretch-limo. Not to the prom, but to some amazing ballroom-restaurant place, with chandeliers, red carpet and gilded cherubs on the ceiling. It was a stupid dream, but it made his chest ache with desire and the next time he told Castiel off for his stupid fantasy, the words sounded a little hollow. Maybe it was okay for Castiel to have stupid fairy-story fantasies. Maybe Dean would be stupid enough to try and take Cas anyway, because it would make the boy happy, though Adam was pretty sure that the Principal would call the cops and have Dean escorted away if he really did turn up.
Adam knew that his dream was just wish-fulfilment. There was no way it was going to happen; Michael wasn’t going to show up in a tux with a flower in his button hole. The fantasies that Adam had any control over weren’t his, but he was used to that by now.
Dean was in the kitchen when Adam came downstairs, pouring over his phone and Adam couldn’t help but wonder if he and Castiel had graduated to sexting. He hoped not. Castiel texted like he IM’d - with proper grammar and punctuation. Dean was completely out of his league. He looked up as Adam made his way towards the studio.
“Uh huh,” Adam said, wanting to get on with it, itching to really. But Dean had turned towards him now, one arm resting on the chair back.
“Do you think... we could ever get Cas to film with us? Maybe him and you? Boys Gone Wild sort of thing? Sleepover, pillow-fights, hot-pants? Making out, hand jobs, maybe baby-sitter or hot older brother walking in on them?”
Adam might have said it was a good idea, because it was interesting, it would be new, but... but really? Dean sounded far too interested, and Adam did not like the way his brother seemed to squirm in his seat.
“Dean? You’re a pervert,” Adam said, turning on his heel. “Cas is my best friend.” And with that, he opened the studio door, just as Dean called out.
“Is that a no?”
It took him a second to compose himself, calming his laughter and then catching his breath. It didn’t take long to set up the webcam and the laptop at the desk, making the place look like it was some dirty boy's bedroom took very little time. Dean had sent the alert out to Adam's fans about the live chat several hours ago and there were already several of them online when Adam signed in.
BritZar: Adam! We were beginning to think you'd run away and left us.
Adam: you know I'd never leave you, Balthazar. I have my sexy friends to help me play, what more could a boy want?
SugarDaddy1964: We know exactly what you want, Adam. And we know how to give it to you too.
Adam: now you mention it, Daddy, there was something I wanted your help with. I've been so empty the last few days and there doesn't seem to be anything that will satisfy me. i need you to help.
BritZar: Why didn't you speak to us sooner? I've got a few suggestions
Sgt_Spank: Nothing satisfies you? You've not been trying hard enough, Adam
BetterInsideYou: I know what would satisfy u, u little slut. U want something pounding into that tight ass until u beg me 2 stop. U want my cock in that hole and u want my cum over your face like a whore.
Adam couldn't make the face he wanted to. He was on webcam, all he could do was continue to play with the buttons of the sheer shirt and look cock-hungry while the hand that hovered over the laptop moved to block "BetterInsideYou".
There was always one or two like that, drunk probably who just creeped him out. They made him feel dirty, unsafe and that was not on. The weird ones wouldn't know their messages no longer appeared on his screen, but Dean wouldn't let him out-right ban people from the site. There were some guys who subscribed multiple times, had different screen names, and Adam couldn’t help thinking this was one of those guys. When one screen-name didn’t get any responses, he’d try another, and another. "BetterInsideYou" just reminded him of another creep, one who’d gone too far and made other members step in. “Demoninthebedroom” or something like that. But he’d not been around for a while, or at least, not tried to talk to Adam in chats.
He felt better when the message blinked into the ether though, replaced by the others' suggestions on how Adam might find some relief. They were perverts, but at least Adam knew what to expect from them as he wiggled out of his underwear and hooked his legs over the chair arms and showed himself off. "BetterInsideYou" might be able to see what was going on, he might even still be sending gross messages telling Adam how to stroke himself, how to suck his fingers before teasing over his hole, but if Adam couldn’t see them, then he didn’t care. Out of sight, out of mind.
Sam loved lists.
He made them on the backs of envelopes and on the notepad of his laptop and when he had nothing to write on, he made them in his head. He liked being organised; he liked knowing what to do, what he needed or the order in which things should be done. Which was cool. There wasn’t a problem with Sam making lists. Unless he dragged everyone else into it, too. He had tonight. Dean had made his excuses and gone out, but Adam didn’t have the chance to escape, Sam’s strong hand resting on his shoulder and pushing him into one of the chairs at the kitchen table.
“We’re going to talk about college,” Sam said, in the same sort of tone as he might have used if he were suggesting selling Adam’s organs online.
Gabriel was there, god only knew why, nursing a cup of coffee and a plate of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but he only shrugged when Adam looked at him for help.
“If you go somewhere local, you can stay here,” Sam continued, sitting down next to Gabriel although there were plenty of other free seats. He took a sandwich, despite the short man’s protests, and pushed a stack of paper and a pen forward over the table top. “You don’t have to go away if you don’t want to. I mean... it’s up to you. The local colleges are pretty good for pre-med.”
Adam let himself smile slightly, reaching for a sandwich of his own, only to have his hand slapped away. Sam rolled his eyes, elbowing Gabriel away for a moment and pushed the plate into the middle of the table.
“Thanks. I... I’ve looked into it, Sam. I know you don’t want to leave Dean here alone but… I’ve been thinking of going to a college out of state. I’ve heard a lot of good things about it and…”
“This wouldn’t happen to be a college near Michael, would it?” Gabriel’s interruption was unexpected and, for a moment, neither of the other two said anything. Sam looked utterly confused, and Adam would have loved to kick the other porn star under the table, but he was pretty sure he’d get Sam instead.
“This is nothing to do with Michael! It’s about getting into a good college!” He protested, but Gabriel was grinning knowingly by then, and Adam could only sigh and sink down on the chair until he was almost completely under the table. The sooner he moved out, the better.
It was okay to have nowhere to go on a Friday night. Even if it was the last Friday before the Graduation Prom. The house was empty, he could play music as loud as he liked, eat what he liked, and blog about whatever he wanted.
Dean and Castiel were at the movies - personally Adam doubted they’d even got that far before ripping off each other’s clothes and going at it in the backseat again.
Sam was doing something, he didn’t say what. It was probably some boring pre-law thing. Why he’d taken a tub of candies with him, Adam didn’t know, but whatever, Sam was getting stranger and stranger every day.
Case in point; Sam had given Adam his car keys for that night. It wasn’t much of a car, a beat-up thing that was pretty much Adam’s age, but it ran and there was gas in the tank, and Sam didn’t freak about the idea of Adam driving. He passed his test, after all.
Beat-up old car or not, it meant freedom. And maybe, just maybe, he wanted to go out that night. There was no reason why not, even if he did want to be back before it got too late. He could go out and pick up food, come back and settle down in front of the TV.
There were only so many places in town to pick up food, most of them being near the coffee shop. He’d avoided the place as much as humanly possible, drinking the stuff they had at home or the crap, thick gloopy stuff from the school vending machines instead. But he wasn’t going to the coffee shop this time. He was going to get some food, and he’d be fine. He wasn’t going to be recognised anymore. He was just a kid, getting tacos.
Okay, maybe getting tacos and a coke and a pot of ice-cream and some chips and dips too, because if he was going to watch TV, he wanted food. Sam would never let him pig out on this sort of junk, and if Sam wasn’t there to tell him off, and he could take the stuff straight out to the trash instead of leaving it in the kitchen bin, Sam was never going to be any the wiser either. It was a perfect plan.
He’d already opened the bag of chips on his way to the car. They were good, salty and warm with an edge of spice that made his tongue tingle. It was going to be a good night, he could feel it.
He didn't expect to be suddenly grabbed, arms snaking around his middle and pinning his own arms to his side.
The paper bag crashed to the floor, bursting open and spreading bits of taco, the cardboard cup exploding and sending ice-cold cola up his jeans. He was sure he screamed, but he didn't know, he didn't know what was happening around him. He was forced forward by the press of a body against him. It was terrifying, and he would have fallen if it wasn't for the other holding him up.
He wasn't held up much longer, not long enough to have caught his breath anyway, before he was forced up against the side of one of the cars nearby, forcing the air out of his lungs a second time and making his ribs ache. He was certain he heard one of them crack, but above the scrape of his body against the car door and the heavy breathing behind him, he didn't know. All he did know was that the breath against his cheek was unsteady, and stank. It made him gag, bile rising from his stomach and burning the back of his throat.
"Adam Adam Adam," the voice said, right in his ear.
Adam tried to tug away, only getting shoved harder into the car for his trouble. He groaned, sure now that he was going to be bruised when he got out of this. If he got out of this.
"You shouldn't have ignored me, Adam. I sent you lovely emails. I typed you beautiful messages. I poured my heart out to you. Promised to take you away from all that filth. I could have loved you, provided for you. But you ignored me. That was hurtful, Adam." The voice said, and Adam knew it.
Oh god, he knew it. It was the voice from the coffee shop: the guy that had recognised him.
Adam shuddered, wondering why he'd even come out, why he'd come to this place and not just stayed at home and eaten whatever was in the fridge. He could have had mac and cheese. He could have had a great night in. No creepy, scary guys assaulting him in car parks, no sir, but no. He had to go out, didn't he? He had to come back here.
The place wasn't empty, though. It was Friday night: there were people about, people who wanted tacos, people who would see, and people who would help. There had to be. That was the logical thing. But even so, he twisted, wanting to escape the grip, wanting to get away now. If only he could get away, get back to the restaurant, he'd be safe, he knew it. He just had to get away, stamp on the man's foot, anything. Anything that would help him get away was worth doing. He twisted again, trying to catch the guy in the ribs, trying to knock him with his elbows, enough to force the man to relax his grip. But it wasn't good enough.
"That wasn't very nice either, Adam," the voice growled. "Say 'sorry, Jeffrey'."
He swallowed, bile thick on his tongue now and if he opened his mouth, then he'd be sick. He shook his head, unable to speak. And then he was forced to open his mouth, gasping out in pain as something sharp bit shallowly into his ribs.
"Say 'sorry, Jeffrey'," Jeffrey repeated, pressing the blade in a little closer.
Adam didn't want to, he didn't want to do anything this guy asked, but he sobbed it out, gagging and choking on air. The knife seemed to press deeper into his side, sharper and harder, and then it was gone, a great exhale of breath hitting the back of Adam's neck.
Suddenly there was no pressure on his back, nothing pressed against him. He could hardly breathe, his lungs burning and his heart pounding against his sore ribs.
"You don't need to apologise for anything, Adam." That was a new voice. A voice he was certain he imagined.
But as he slid down, knees scraping against the rough tarmac of the car park floor, there was Michael, concern on his face, Jeffrey’s prone, unconscious form an untidy lump a few feet away.
"Michael?" He murmured, as he was pulled to his feet, stomach churning again. "Oh god, oh, Michael." And then he was crying, even if he didn’t want to be, so relieved and unable to believe Michael was there.
It was all he could do, unable to speak as the noise of sirens filled the night air.
Adam felt better at the police station.
There was a warm blanket around his shoulders, and someone had found him a cup of coffee that was steaming away in front of him. Michael was there, next to him, comforting and solid. Adam needed that, he felt safe.
Dean had turned up, ranting and raving and wanting to teach people lessons, Castiel in tow looking more than a little embarrassed. Adam could believe it. Cas had probably never been in a police station before; he probably thought that even being near one made you look suspect. There wasn't anyone who seemed more suspect than Dean. Looming over the desk clerk and threatening violence if he didn't get his hands on the man that had attacked his baby brother.
He looked like he was going to try and get the sergeant to hand over the keys by the time Sam walked in. In fact, it was Gabriel who stormed in, a balding, dark-haired man at his side, in an expensive suit and unbelievably shiny shoes. Sam followed them, looking bemused.
"Anthony Crowley, I am Mr Adam Milligan's lawyer, and I'd like to have a few words with my client, before you proceed any further."
They let Crowley in, Gabriel following closely behind, and no one tried to stop him. He sat down opposite Adam, heavy brief-case set down on the table-top, opened, and paper removed. There was a pen too, obviously expensive, in its own case, which was carefully pulled free.
“Mr Milligan?” Crowley said, accent crisp and authoritative.
Adam had never seen this man in his life. “You’re my lawyer? I thought Sam was my lawyer. Or Michael. I’d like Michael-“ Adam began, but a sharp click from Crowley’s tongue silenced that.
Gabriel was looking very proud of himself, like he’d saved the day somehow.
“Have the police given you any indication as to what they are going to charge you with? You are of legal age of course and Gabriel has assured me all the necessary warnings and legal documentations exist on your site, and I very much doubt they would attempt to suggest prostitution-“
It was that that seemed to break the spell of silence that had settled over Michael. “What are you talking about? Adam isn’t a suspect. He was attacked. They want a statement from him.”
Adam nodded, still dumb-struck, but the way Gabriel’s face twisted, well, that was almost funny.
“You were attacked?!” He asked, horrified, and then it all came pouring out, until Adam was crying again and Michael had both arms wrapped around him.
It was Michael who drove him home. Michael who helped him up the stairs, even if Dean was trying to force his way there, trying to talk Adam into staying downstairs with the rest of them for a little while longer. Michael said nothing, just followed Adam and kept his hands supporting Adam, still unsteady on his feet.
It was Michael who checked the bruises on his chest, and the stitches over his ribs from where the point of the knife had bitten in. It was clean, and although it hurt, it didn’t worry Adam. Michael was the one who averted his eyes when Adam pulled off the rest of his clothes, and crawled into bed. Michael was the one Adam tugged in after him, too emotionally drained to talk and desperate for comfort.
Michael was the one that held him close, even through the tears that shook him in the middle of the night.
Adam Milligan didn’t feel like a normal teenager, but dammit, like this, he felt safe.
Epilogue. Five years later
Adam sat on his suitcase, but it still wouldn't close. He hated packing. He had done it far too often in the last few years, but this at least he wasn’t packing everything he owned into boxes from Wal-Mart. This was only a case of clothes to take home.
The call echoed around their apartment, and the noise from the kitchen faded as Michael stopped whatever he was doing to find his boyfriend.
“What?” he asked before he even stepped into the room, a smile tugging on his handsome features as he saw Adam on one of the cases on the bed, his legs dangling off the ground.
The look that Adam shot towards him wasn’t pleased. “I can’t shut the lid. Help?” He shuffled over slightly as Michael moved, sitting down, too, their combined weight forcing the luggage lid down all the way, the pair of them quickly doing up the straps.
Adam was trying not to laugh as he sat up straight again, leaning into his boyfriend and not even complaining when Michael kissed him, tugging him backwards off the suitcase and onto the bed, rolling on top of him.
They set off an hour later than they’d expected, but that didn’t bother either of them, it was time well spent. Between Michael’s work as a junior in a law firm and Adam’s studies, they were like ships in the night, missing each other more often than not, but a week off would give them all the time they needed, even if most of their time off was going to be shared with family.
Cas opened the door when they arrived, obviously having dressed hurriedly, the buttons on his shirt mismatched. And the shirt, unless Adam was very much mistaken, was Dean’s.
Dean was in the shower, apparently. The pointed look Adam shot Castiel didn’t get him anywhere- even if In Bed With Adam had long ago been shut-down, Adam knew that there was still a studio in the house, and that Castiel was quite the willing accomplice when it came to Dean. Dean was still working in the garage, but he and Castiel had been on one of those fancy Caribbean holidays, and working at Bobby’s certainly hadn’t paid for it.
“Gabriel and Sam are making dinner. I thought it was best to warn you,” Castiel said, once he’d noticed his buttons, and flushing red as he hurried to do them up properly. “I believe we are having salad covered in caramel sauce. Dean has already ordered take-out.”
And that was how their family worked. They didn’t have a white picket fence and they didn’t work nine to five. But Adam wouldn’t have had it any other way.