Disclaimer: Supernatural and certain characters belong to Eric Kripke and Warner Brothers. No profit is gained from this writing, only, hopefully, enjoyment.
"I'm not talking to you," the kid says, his back to Dean and his whole body tense. He's doing something with his hands, but Dean doesn't want to move any closer and so he can't see what exactly.
"Yeah," Dean responds, after a moment, "I'd kind of gathered that, what, with the way you leave anytime I come into a room." He shifts a little, and the ancient floorboards in Bobby's house creak under his feet.
Kid makes a noise in his throat, sort of a fed-up sigh, Dean thinks, and then he's turning around and glaring full-force at Dean.
Okay, so this is pretty much proof that somebody - and they all know who that somebody is - told the kid about The Deal before Dean had a chance to. And so the kid's kinda understandably maybe a little upset? Dean had pretty much figured that to be the case when they all came back to Bobby's and Adam wouldn't even look at him, but the way the kid's acted the past week just. . . cements it.
What the hell else could it be, after all?
Adam's still glaring at him from a few feet away, but now Dean just wants to reach out and drag the little shit into a headlock and squeeze the hell out of him. He's been pretty blank about it all, still is numb even now, but it's slowly starting to sink in. Standing here with Adam royally pissed off at him, a thought pops up that this is. . . maybe one of the last times he'll ever see the kid.
"Okay, so you're pissed- " Dean starts, only to stop because he has to jerk back in order to avoid the swinging fist suddenly on a collision course with his face.
"Fucker!" Adam shouts, following him, and pulling his other arm back for another attempt at clocking him. "Show you pissed!"
"Jesus, kid!" Dean says, dodging and backing away until the time's right. Finally, there's an opening, and Dean's then able to get a secure hold on Adam's arms, trapping the kid between the door and Dean's own body. "What the hell?"
Kid makes that sound again, that weird sigh, and Dean can feel how tense his body is under his weight.
Although, there's some shaking going on, too, and Dean knows it's not coming from him. . .
"Adam," Dean says quietly, right next to the kid's ear, "it's gonna be okay. Okay? Everything's gonna- "
Suddenly, Dean finds himself ass-down on the floor, with Adam towering above him. Kid's gotten to be pretty huge in the last year or two, bulked up a lot. And that's just been proven fact by the way he. . . literally just put Dean down on the floor in under five seconds.
"Whoa," Dean breathes out. He looks up at the kid again, who's still visibly shaking with anger, and can't help grinning in pride. "Dude, that was freakin' awesome!"
"You're an asshole!" Adam shouts back, and that wipes the smile right off Dean's face. He's never seen the kid this angry before, and he wasn't kidding around with those swings, either. Those had force behind them and intent, and Dean realizes he's kinda in over his head right now. He'd thought he knew how to deal with every one of Adam's moods, but. . . that doesn't seem to be the case.
"Look," he tries again, still sitting on the floor with Adam glaring him to death, "I'm sorry. I didn't- things weren't s'posed to turn out like this, all right?"
"Fuck you," Adam spits out, turning and putting his back to Dean again. "You're so fucking retarded." There's a sound suspiciously like a sniff and then Adam quietly mutters, "Asshole" again.
Shaking plus sniffling plus not looking at him all adds up to something other than anger, in Dean's experience. It means something else with Sammy, and it means something else with Adam, too. It has to. Kid's never actually been angry at him before, not really.
Dean can't really stand the thought of Adam being angry with him now, either, not. . . not with everything how it is.
"I'm sorry," Dean repeats, climbing to his feet and carefully moving up behind Adam. He takes a deep breath, and then sets his hand on the kid's shoulder. There's no swinging or death glares, so he leaves it there, even giving Adam's shoulder a squeeze a moment later.
The shaking's still going and Adam's sniffling has become more obvious. Dean's seconds away from pulling him into a hug when the kid lets out a watery, "God, Dean!"
And that seals it. Dean yanks the kid into his arms by that grip on his shoulder and just holds him tight. He has one hand cupping the back of Adam's head, the other across his back, and eventually the kid's face winds up pressing into Dean's neck. Wetness there, like Dean had needed any proof he was crying. And maybe it makes him a terrible person, sick in the head or something, but deep inside he knows this moment isn't all bad. Adam's crying and Dean's got him. He's got him.
" . . . can't do this again," Adam whispers wetly, and he's still shaking, still clinging to Dean like Dean's trying to get away. . . which he's not. "Can't," he repeats desperately, and Dean just squeezes him tighter.
Two weeks already gone from The Year, and who knows how often he'll see Adam during the course of the rest of it, but right now. . . right now, he's here and Dean's got him.
"Love you, Kid," he whispers, and Adam just starts sobbing.