Work Text:
The concoction is green, and it’s bubbling, in a way that Michael thinks would be stereotypical for a witch’s potion if it wasn’t being brewed in a pasta pot from Target. As Adam sprinkles dirt into it, mumbling a ritualistic phrase, the colour of the steam emanating from it turns brown for a moment, before becoming white again.
What does it do? Michael asks, and Adam hesitates for a moment where he was reaching for a wooden spoon.
“Oh, now you want to know?” Adam teases him, and takes the spoon to stir the concoction. “It’s for the herbs. Magical fertiliser, essentially.” He stirs for a bit longer, then puts aside the spoon and turns off the heat. “Better than Miracle-Gro.”
I could help you with your plants.
It’s a genuine offer, but Adam just sighs. “Michael, we’ve talked about this. No miracles, okay? And we both know you don’t know shit about keeping plants alive, so you’d either overdo it times ten, or you’d kill everything within a second. I don’t know which would be worse, to be honest.”
What’s wrong with a little miracle? Michael asks, and just for the record — he’s not sulking.
Totally not sulking.
“Well, for one, they attract hunters — and I can do without seeing one of those assholes again, like, ever.”
Michael falls silent at that. While Adam is still cagey about what his life has been like in the fourteen years Michael was gone, he has let some things slip through, usually before cutting himself off abruptly. One of those things are his semi-frequent rants about hunters.
At first, Michael thought that it was aimed specifically at his brothers, but when Michael suggested that, Adam just snorted and said that he hasn’t seen them in fourteen years. Apparently he talked to them exactly once after the almost-end of the world, when they revealed to him that Michael was dead. After that, Adam avoided them, which was apparently easy to do — they aren’t exactly social, Adam mentioned once, and while they are somewhat of a legend among hunters, there are also quite a few people who would rather put a stake through the brothers’ hearts than talk to them.
In the present, Adam takes the pot off the stove and puts it on the windowsill, probably to let it cool down. From the open kitchen window, they can overlook most of the garden, where Adam grows whatever herbs and vegetables he needs.
Well, now that Michael is back, they have a lot less need for vegetables, seeing as how Adam doesn’t need to eat anymore. But Michael’s suggestion to replace that part of the garden with a little outdoor cinema has surprisingly been met with a lot of resistance.
Adam loves movies, and he has fond memories of the cinema. Why he would now prefer that ‘green stuff’, as he used to call it, to Michael’s excellent suggestion, Michael can’t even begin to understand. But then, a lot has changed since Adam tried teaching him all the songs from Rent in the cage. Even that day they spent just watching the waves on the Californian beach, where they talked all night about what they wanted their house to look like, seems like forever ago now.
For Michael, it has only been a few weeks. He doesn’t exactly remember his time in the Empty. But Adam spent fourteen years as a human, without any archangelic assistance. His life right now reflects that - he doesn’t have a grand mansion, like he dreamed of, with a huge Victorian library. All he has is this hut, with two rooms plus a bath and a kitchen, and the garden outside.
One of the first things Michael did was to offer Adam to get him out of there. When that was struck down, he offered to at least change the house into something nicer. That, however, also didn’t seem to sit right with Adam. He explained it with his worry about hunters, but Michael could always deal with any wayward humans - or other creatures - if they were stupid enough to show up. He’s beginning to suspect that this isn’t actually about hunters, or about staying off the radar.
Adam seems to be reluctant to deviate from the routine he is used to, or to change any aspect of this life he has been forced to build. Perhaps it’s age - Adam is only in his mid-thirties, biologically, but in a much more real sense, he is over a thousand years old. He often joked after the cage that his soul was that of a ‘crusty old man’, but there might be more truth to it now than there used to be.
Adam takes a deep breath and then lets it out slowly, the cool autumn breeze filling his lungs and brushing over his face. In moments like this, it’s almost like when they were fresh out of the cage - everything was novel and exciting, something Adam had technically felt a thousand times but had almost forgotten in the years of their confinement.
Now, Adam should be used to sensations such as the wind, but he still seems to savour them like something precious, like he can’t take for granted that he will still have them tomorrow.
“What are you thinking?” Adam asks, something wary in his tone, and Michael wishes he could tear down the walls that separate them even now, could make undone all the years that they spent apart. But he can’t, and he’s afraid how Adam would react if he tried to look directly into his soul. They’re close now, possibly closer than ever before, with Adam’s soul slotted perfectly into the cracks of Michael’s damaged grace, and yet somehow there is still a gulf between them that makes the Mariana trench look like a mere pothole.
I’m thinking about what we’re going to do today, Michael says, which is not exactly a lie, though it’s also nowhere near the whole truth.
Adam is very silent for a moment, even his soul being still. That never used to happen - Adam has always been energetic, and inquisitive, asking questions first and worrying if they were appropriate later. But now he is guarded, as though he has to be careful with Michael, or perhaps with himself.
“I’m sorry,” Adam then says, and it’s so quiet that Michael might not have heard it if he wasn’t in his head, if he couldn’t feel the letters forming in their mouth, and the air coming out of their throat.
Michael puzzles about this for a moment, trying to remember if Adam said anything offensive, but in the two days that he has been back, and even in their time before that, he can’t come up with anything that hasn’t long since been forgiven and forgotten.
What are you sorry for? he finally asks, and Adam sighs so deeply that Michael wonders if it could kill a human who actually needs air to breathe.
“I’m sorry that I’m like this,” Adam says, his grip tightening on the windowsill. “I know we had plans. We wanted to see…” Michael can feel him frown. “So many places. And now you’re stuck with me in this little hut in the middle of nowhere, and… and I know that you hate witches…”
I don’t really care about witches, Michael says, but it doesn’t seem to put Adam at ease. Adam…
Michael isn’t very good with words. How can he express the sheer joy and relief he feels at being reunited with Adam? That he doesn’t care where they are or what parts of Earth they see, if any, as long as they’re together?
You’re my guide, he says, because it’s true - he will follow Adam anywhere, will trust whatever decisions Adam makes, in a way that he can’t really put any other word to.
He doesn’t want to call it devotion, because that makes him think of his father, and he doesn’t want to taint his relationship with Adam by comparing them. It’s loyalty, but not born out of the fear of losing him by making a mistake, of not measuring up to his expectations.
Or maybe it is, because Adam hunches his shoulders, shrinking in on himself, and Michael hopes desperately that he hasn’t ruined this, that whatever wrong thing he said can be atoned for, that Adam will not tell him to leave.
“Hell of a guide,” Adam mutters, and he laughs bitterly at himself. “We haven’t even been outside this clearing yet.”
I thought you didn’t want to leave? Michael asks carefully, because he doesn’t understand. They made all those plans before because Adam wanted to see the world. Because Adam wanted to celebrate New Year’s Eve in Tokyo, because Adam wanted to see the Eiffel Tower, and the Great Pyramid of Giza, and the biggest ball of twine.
“I don’t-” Adam breaks off, sounding almost hopeless. Michael’s grace aches, and Adam shivers. He closes the window. “I don’t know. I’ve lived here for so long, and you’ve only been back for two days…”
I understand, Michael says sombrely.
Adam has a new life now, and Michael interrupted it, made him have to readjust again when he was happy without him. Maybe Michael shouldn’t have come back. He would rather be alone than bring his only friend in the world misery.
“Please don’t leave,” Adam whispers, his breath fogging up the window he’s standing too close to, once more gripping the windowsill. “Please.”
Maybe I don’t understand, Michael admits. Do you want me with you or not?
“Of course I want you here. How could you even ask that?” Adam sounds hurt. That won’t do.
Michael mulls over his next question, then says: You know I’m not very good with people, or feelings, so you may need to spell this out to me. Are you annoyed that I came back?
“What?! No!”
Adam’s indignation sounds honest, but that doesn’t clear anything up at all.
Are you mad at me for betraying your brothers?
“No! Fuck those guys. Michael, I’m not mad or annoyed, I’m glad that you’re back! Oh man, that doesn’t even cover half of it… I’m fucking ecstatic that you’re back! There’s nothing I’ve wanted more for the last fourteen years!”
But you’re not happy now.
“I-” Adam’s mouth clicks shut, and he sighs as he lets himself sink onto the chair that’s squished between the small kitchen table and the corner of the room, right next to the window.
It’s true, then. Adam isn’t happy with him. Michael should leave.
“I’m not unhappy, just…”
Just what? Michael asks, knowing that he sounds petulant.
Normally, Adam would tease him about it, telling him not to be a child. But nothing is normal right now, and maybe it never will be again.
“I’m scared, Michael,” Adam says with so much hurt in his voice that Michael instinctively wraps his grace tighter around his soul.
You don’t have to be scared. Nothing can hurt you. I won’t let it.
Even if Adam tells him to leave, Michael will still protect him. He will watch over his friend.
Adam laughs, then, but it’s not a happy sound. “What if you change your mind? What if… what if you get bored of me, and leave? What do I do then?”
Michael is stunned. That’s what Adam is afraid of?
That’s not going to happen.
“I’m not the same as before, Michael. I changed. And you… you’re not out of options anymore. There’s a Heaven for you to return to, a God who…” Adam trails off.
Adam, I don’t care about this new God, and Heaven hasn’t been my home in a long time. Maybe it never was.
“So what, you may as well settle for a guy whose biggest adventure every day is digging up his garden?”
I don’t see how digging it up every day would be very conducive to the plants growing… But Adam, I don’t care what we do. I went to those silly balls of twine with you. At least the carrots you grow have a function.
“You said we should rip them all out,” Adam says accusingly.
I thought you wouldn’t need them anymore. But I see now that I was wrong.
“Michael, I don’t care about the carrots. But what happens if you leave — or if you-” Adam swallows, hard. “If you die on me again? What do I do if we’re halfway across the world while it happens, or if we ripped out all the vegetables and I have nothing left to eat?”
Once upon a time, Michael would have told him that it’s a silly thing to worry about. That he will always be there. But Michael already died once, and there’s no guarantee that it won’t happen again.
With a passport and enough money, you would always be able to return here, he says.
“What?”
If you’re afraid of what might happen if I die, we can take precautions. We’ll keep the vegetables. If you want, I can build a greenhouse so you can grow them year-round. We could get some chickens - then you can have eggs. I’m surprised you don’t already have some. Protein is very important, you know that.
“Michael…”
Your life can be as secure as you want it to be. Just say the word.
“Why?” Adam asks, and Michael doesn’t understand until he elaborates: “Why would you do all that for me? Why do you even still stay with me? You know, after the cage, I just thought we were in the same boat… You were as lonely as me, or like, I guess you didn’t have anything better to do…”
I love you, Michael says then, the words rushing out of him as though they can no longer be contained.
What follows is a stunned silence from both of them - Michael isn’t sure why Adam is surprised, and he’s not even that clear on why he is surprised, except that he feels stupid for not realising this a lot sooner.
Because yes, he didn’t really know it was true until he said it, or he knew it but couldn’t put it into words. It’s not devotion, and it’s not fear.
It’s love.
Michael just didn’t know that it could feel like this, he supposes. He didn’t know that this is what it’s supposed to feel like.
“You… love me?” Adam asks, as though making sure that he heard that right.
I do. Yes, Michael says, and then: I’m sorry.
“What?”
This is a lot to spring on you. I’m sorry. I should have waited… or maybe we should have talked about it a long time ago…
He has been feeling like this since the cage, he’s sure, even if he didn’t know it at the time.
“You love me,” Adam repeats, like he’s trying on the word. “Like… romantically?”
Michael thinks about that. I don’t know. I’m not sure what the difference is to other kinds of love. But I do know that I want to stay with you as long as you’ll allow it.
“Wow,” Adam says, and then starts rambling: “That sounds pretty gay- err, romantic, to me. I’m sorry, I’m not trying to make fun of you, I just don’t know what to say. Like, you love me? For real? I never thought an archangel- that you would ever love me.”
You didn’t? Looking back, Michael doesn’t think he has been particularly subtle about it. Adam, I already stayed with you when I could have tried looking for my father. Heaven was falling apart and then I learned that my father was back, but still I wanted nothing more than to go scuba diving with you in the coral reefs.
“I don’t think it’s technically scuba diving when we didn’t even have a snorkel- never mind. When you put it like that… Wait, Heaven was falling apart?” Adam frowns, and scratches his head, confronted with too much information at once.
That’s not important. Michael forgot that he never told Adam about the state of Heaven. Maybe a part of him was afraid that Adam would want him to do something about it. Then Michael would have had to leave him, if only temporarily. What’s important is that I made my decision to stay with you, and I want to continue staying with you. Not because I have to, or because I don’t have any other options, but because it’s you.
“Oh,” Adam makes, and then he stares into space for a long moment, not really doing anything.
We can call it something other than love if you’re not comfortable with it.
“No, no…” Adam says, but it sounds distant, like he’s distracted by his own thoughts. “Um, you kind of blew my mind there. Okay. The thing is, you want to stay. And I want you to stay. So we’re on the same page there, yeah?
“And I don’t really know about the whole love thing. I’ve ever loved anyone but my mom. But when I think about what I want my life to be like, you’re always there. And when I think about you leaving, I get, like, a panic attack. So that’s probably a big hint, huh?”
Please don’t think about me leaving, then, Michael says, not wanting Adam to have a panic attack.
Adam laughs, and this time there is actual humour in it. “Yeah, okay, buddy. Uh, is it okay if I call you buddy? Should I call you something else? Are we life partners or something now?”
Well, we have decided to stay together for life, so maybe? Michael doesn’t know much about human customs, and there are no angelic customs for mating, so Adam’s guess is as good as any. I don’t really care what you call me. I do like it when you say my name though.
“So… you don’t actually want to change anything? I mean… do you want to, uh, kiss or something?”
… Adam, we only have one mouth.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry, that was a stupid question. I don’t know why I said that. Uh, do you wanna hold hands, or- wait, no, that’s also stupid. I’m being stupid, why am I being stupid?”
Adam, calm down. Michael waits until Adam has taken a few deep breaths. Nothing has to change. I’m not expecting anything - you don’t have to be worried.
“I’m not worried, Michael, I just- I don’t want to screw this up.” After another deep breath, Adam furrows his brows. “Also what do you mean, you’re not expecting anything?”
I just mean that you don’t need to act any different, and I don’t expect you to say it back or-
“Oh my God, I haven’t said it back!” Adam springs up from his chair and starts pacing the kitchen. “You said you love me and I just went ‘gee, thanks, bud’ and I didn’t even-”
Adam. Michael lets out the equivalent of a sigh. I told you that I don’t even know what kind of love this is. When I said it, I didn’t expect a declaration in return. I just wanted you to know.
“Do you… love me like your brothers?” Adam asks haltingly.
Michael ponders this. My relationship to my brothers is complicated. There’s too much anger and shame mixed in with the love I feel for them. But with you… it’s simple. Maybe it’s comparable to how I felt about my brothers when they were first created, but it’s hard to remember that time. It was so long ago. I think… maybe I don’t love you like anyone else.
“What do you mean?”
Michael isn’t entirely sure either until he says it. Maybe I don’t love you like a romantic partner, or like a brother. Maybe I just love you like you’re Adam, and I’m Michael.
Adam has stopped pacing now, and he turns to look out of the window, at the golden light filtering in from outside.
“So you’re saying that your love for me is unique?”
Yes. It is its own thing, unbound by social rules or conventions. I’m not human, Adam - I’ve never lived or felt like a human, and I never will.
Adam sighs in what sounds a little like relief. “We don’t actually have to put a label on it, huh?”
No. We’re free to never give a specific name to it at all. We can just be Adam and Michael, and we can live however we want.
Adam shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “When did you get so chill, dude?”
Ah, you see. When your father has already boiled your grace like you’re a bottle of coke he threw a mentos into, all the rules he imposed on you just suddenly seem a little less important. Michael pauses, but Adam stays silent. That was meant to be a joke. I thought you would enjoy the reference to coke and mentos.
“Oh, Michael,” Adam sighs. “I’m sorry, but I can’t laugh about your death. Or about your dad.”
Fair enough.
Adam looks out of the window contemplatively. “We can just live how we want, huh?”
Yes. Carefully, Michael curls his grace around Adam, rubbing against the tiny but powerful little soul. If you want to stay here forever and just take care of your garden, then we can. If you want to go and see Kyoto like we talked about, we can do that too. It’s up to you.
“I think maybe… for today, I want it to be the garden.”
Okay. Michael gives Adam’s soul a little squeeze.
“But maybe tomorrow… you know, I’ve never been in Disneyland,” Adam says tentatively.
You’ve mentioned it before, but I’m not aware of any country by that name.
Adam snorts. “Okay, maybe today we spend time in the garden and on educating you on the mighty empire established by Walt Disney.”
I would like that, Michael says softly. If it’s something that Adam enjoys, then Michael knows that he will love hearing about it.