"Michael, it's ice cream! Don't be pathetic, try it." Michael stares suspiciously at the bowl between them and Adam reaches over to cup his cheek softly. "Try it. Please?" he asks again, quietly, giving the brunette his best puppy eyes. He knows the archangel can't refuse him when he asks like that, and he's right. Michael huffs out an indignant breath, starting to say something about how he doesn't need to eat, when Adam puts his hand over his mouth. "I know you don't have to eat, but you might enjoy it. Gabriel does," the archangel opens his mouth to speak again and Adam hurries on, "and even if you aren't Gabe, you could try." Michael sits motionless until Adam drops his hand, then says, very softly, "You first. You need it more than I do." It's true, Adam is thin enough that his collarbones are clearly visible; and as tough as Adam is, Michael worries about him. Adam rolls his eyes and picks a strawberry off the top, putting it in his mouth and chewing. "Happy?" Michael nods slowly as Adam passes him one spoon and takes the other for himself. "One spoonful, Michael. For me?" He can't believe he's pleading with a ridiculously stubborn archangel to eat some ice cream, but it seems to work, when Michael takes a small amount of ice cream on the spoon and closes his lips around it. It leaves a sprinkle on his lower lip as he puts the spoon back in the bowl, and Adam reaches out to brush it away. He smiles slightly when Michael catches his hand, lacing their fingers together.
"Take it somewhere else!" a male voice yells and Michael flies out of his seat, immediately standing over the teenager who had spoken. Adam flinches, sitting still for a moment before the reality of the situation hits him and he scrambles out of his own seat. "Michael, no, come on. Sit down again." The owner of the shop, a sweet woman in her mid-60s gives Adam an apologetic look and he shrugs. Michael's eyes are burning into the teenager, who is staring up at him defiantly, and his hands are curled at his sides. Adam grabs the archangel's shoulders and shoves the kid out of the way. Michael's eyes follow the teenager before they go back to Adam. Adam is about to speak when the kid starts to taunt Michael again; the archangel turns away from Adam and grabs the front of the grubby white t-shirt, raising the boy off the floor. "Get out," he spits flatly, and the boy nods, his feet scrabbling to reach the floor. "Michael!" Adam yells, snapping the archangel's attention back to him, and he drops the teenager, who promptly runs out of the door, terrified. Michael turns back to face Adam, and the smaller boy stands toe to toe with him. "Thank you for not... y'know, smiting on sight." Michael's stony expression softens and he gently holds Adam's chin. "It feels... different not to do that. I suppose the 'gods' were right in what they said to Gabriel. Archangels are trained to kill first." The couple sitting at the counter near them turn around and openly stare at Michael, whispering to each other, until Adam gives them a withering look and they turn away sheepishly. "You can change, Michael. You already have. Look at you, look how different you are to when you were using me as a vessel. I know what you used to be like. You did smite first, you always considered human emotions to be below you. And now look at you." He pinched Michael's nose gently. "We should leave. I'll buy more ice cream on the way home."