Sense of Place
Disclaimer: It's too late in the night/early in the morning to think of a witty disclaimer so I do not own Supernatural.
A/n: What can I say? Adam gets to me. So here I am with another little one-shot just for him. I hope everyone enjoys it as much as they enjoyed the last one. It's not in the same style, thought I'd try something different, but I like it all the same. Have a good read.
Not long ago, Adam use to feel his awkward figure of thin arms and lean legs was just too small for a regular sized chair. He felt his feet would dangle above the floor when he sat on the stools his mother kept beside the kitchen counter. He would sink into the center of the green leather chair in the living room. Even the rolling chair he had for his desk (the desk he was suppose to study at when he went up to his room to do work he had brought home with him for his month long school breaks) was just a little bit too wide for him.
When he was feeling enough courage to share his less life-altering concerns, his mom would always tell him that eventually he would grow into a taller and more muscular frame. "Just look at those photos of your father," she would explain. "He's never considered a small man by any means." Then she would smile, ruffle his hair, and he would tell her he was definitely too big for any of that.
But her words constantly had the power to comfort him. His mind would draw images from what she would say and he would see himself in the future. He would become a big, strong man who always had a hard time finding the most comfortable way to sit properly in a chair. His legs would no longer dangle; they would lay flat on the floor while his knees were forced to bend forward. They would have to get a wider lazy boy for him to relax in while he watched TV. And he would never fit in his desk chair again. Adam looked forward to the future and a body that better fit him.
Here in the present, Adam was sitting in a chair he had never seen before; the owner of the chair was a man Adam had never met before. But having died and then having been brought back to life by angels in order to fight the devil, Adam had more pressing concerns than whether or not an aged man in a wheelchair thought the chair was comfortable enough for the teen.
Top concern spinning the gears in Adam Milligan's mind: could he trust the two Winchesters that called themselves his brothers? According to the agents of the Lord himself, that was a big fat "NO." Adam never really considered himself a religious person, but he figured if angels did exist, then they were not liars.
Apparently, Sam and Dean were mostly looking out for each other. Zachariah had tried to convince Adam that no matter the circumstances, even with the threat of Apocalypse Nigh hanging in the hair, Sam would chose to save Dean (and vice versa) over a near stranger every time. And most days, the teen believed that blood was thicker than water; however, Adam made anyone with the last name of Winchester an exception to that cliché.
Right now, sitting in the unknown chair, it looked to him that Sam and Dean were closer to killing one another. Every word out of one brother's mouth was a contradiction to the words the opposite brother was sending out. The younger hunter would make a calm, logical remark while the elder hunter would sarcastically observe the opposite point. If he had trouble deciding whether to trust the brothers as a pair, Adam had even more trouble deciding between Dean and Sam who was more reliable.
After a while of chatter, back and forth bickering, and the occasional intervention by Bobby Singer (Adam knew the name but not the man), the youngest male in the room started to tune things out. His brain wandered off into investigating his surroundings.
That is when Adam noticed something about the chair he was sitting in. He noticed that it was made of wood, most likely a hand-crafted piece of work. It was aged, but not an antique. Worn black leather covered the back and the seat, with hardly any padding in between; the arms were still just skinny, wooden dowels. He noticed that it was just a normal, unobtrusive chair. Unfortunately, it was the best God damn chair he had ever sat it.
It was perfect.
For him.
His legs did not dangle or hang off the edge awkwardly. He did not sink into it, but sat up straight. The seat was neither too big, nor too small. And his knees were bent at a comfortable angle with his feet flat on the floor; his knees were not bent so that they extended way out in front over his feet. If his blonde hair was golden, flowing locks instead of slightly brown-tinted and buzzed, he would say exactly, "This chair is just right."
Just like the line from the story his mom once read to him as a child (she only read it to him once; he refused to listen to it a second time because he considered it definitely less than manly), the chair was just right for him. He fit that chair like it was the one place made just for him.
Sitting right there, in between Sam's brains and Dean's wit, Adam watched his brothers from his exactly, perfect chair in the middle of everything.
End.
A/n: Totally watching "Flash of Genius" while typing this. Love Jake Abel in it. He doesn't have many lines but we do get to watch him sit there and look very pretty. So I know I said this was going to be put up a little bit earlier than this, but for some reason I just could not finish the second half. I had some trouble getting around to writing it. It wasn't like I was really busy, I just could not seem to get past the middle part, like the piece itself just did not want to be written just yet. Here it is now, though, finished. Hope everyone enjoys it. I love reviews just like the rest of you. Oh, and if you like both SPN and Charmed, I'm working on my second crossover for the two and should be updating it weekly; check it out. Shameless self-advertising, but I just want to share the fun. For now, love ya'll lots!
-ROMS