Adam and Michael don't really make a big thing about coming. Hell, they make so little of a thing about it that they don't even tell Sam, Dean, and Castiel (and Jack, but they don't know Jack so maybe that, at least, is understandable) that they're coming back. They are simply gone where ever the fuck they went one day and in the Bunker the next.

Finding them is as simple as Dean waking up one morning after the whole Occultum debacle craving bacon and heading down to the kitchen to get some grub. Dean wouldn't necessarily say he was expecting it to be empty — Sam certainly liked to wake up early and neither Cas nor Jack slept very much (or at all in Cas' case). Still, though, he wasn't that likely to run into anyone, and especially not the archangel inhabiting his illegitimate half-brother who he'd literally left in hell.

Dean turns into the kitchen and startles when he sees Adam (Michael?) standing in front of the stove, facing away from him. Whoever he is at the moment, he's talking to himself.

"—then," he is saying to the empty air next to him, "you just flip over the bread and wait for it to cook. You can try to cook another after this one's done, if you want."

Dean takes a few steps back.

"What the fuck? Where the hell did you come from?"

The archangel in front of him turns around easily, "Hi Dean," he says, and if Dean had to guess, he'd say this is Adam speaking, judging by a distinct decrease in general stick-up-his-assery.

"Adam, that you? The fuck? How did you get— why are— ugh, what are you doing here?" Dean says almost breathlessly, though he'd never admit it. He's flabbergasted. He, in all honesty, had not expected to see Adam and Michael — Aichael? Fuck that sounds stupid — here, or really ever again. Adam had been pretty angry, rightfully so, and had been clear that he didn't consider Dean or Sam his family. Whether that had been the anger speaking or not, Dean couldn't say he blamed him either way.

In any circumstance, the last thing he had expected was to see them again. Adam and Michael had fucked off to who knows where, and as far as Dean could tell, Adam was perfectly comfortable being ridden by Michael. They'd left together willingly. Adam hadn't needed any help getting Michael out of him — though that was, in all honesty, a relief. Somehow, because this was his life, Dean had bigger problems to worry about. Weirdly enough, anyway, Michael had actually seemed weirdly protective of Adam when they'd been at the Bunker. So long story short, Dean had been trying not to worry about his estranged brother, he hadn't seemed to need or want it. And now, here he is, cooking some shit in Dean's kitchen like all is fine and normal and good and their lives aren't the crapshoot they are.

Adam turns around briefly to poke at whatever he is cooking with a spatula before facing Dean again and opening his mouth to speak.

"Right, well, uhh. I mean, Michael and I kinda just uh, popped in? He said something about your warding needing work if you want to keep archangels out." Everything Adam says is matter of fact, casual, and Dean's head spins.

"Uh huh," Dean says, reasonably sure he's scowling. "Well, unless Gabriel faked his death again, the fucker, you're the only archangel left, it wasn't exactly a priority. And okay, so I get how you're here, but what about why? I mean, no offense, I'm uh, happy to see you Adam, but I kind of got the impression you weren't really up to seeing us again any time soon?"

Adam bites his lip, and it's so unbearably human for a guy the holy asshole archangel Michael was possessing that Dean wants to hit something. When Dean had been possessed by Apocalypse World Michael, the one thing he kept coming back to was the words Jimmy Novak had said to him more than a decade ago. Like "being strapped to comet" and so much more. So much worse. But Adam is fine, comfortable in the body he shares with a celestial being of inconceivable might and power that Dean knows all too well. Dean couldn't comprehend it.

"Uh, I mean— honestly it was kinda on a whim. Michael and I didn't really have anything better to do, we've been all over but if the world is ending, well, might as well get to know the family I went to hell for, you know?" Adam shrugs.

"Uh," Dean stars, "so you guys are—"

"Oh!" Adam says, interrupting him, "I also wanted to teach Michael how to make grilled cheese and I assumed you guys have a decent enough kitchen since I uh don't exactly have my own house or apartment anymore," Adam chuckles darkly. "Actually I'm pretty sure I'm legally dead so yeah, that wouldn't work. But all you and Sam have in the fridge is crappy plastic-y cheese, no good pepper jack or provolone or anything, so I'm teaching him to make french toast instead, check it out!"

Adam sidesteps and does a weird voila motion with his hands. Dean steps forward out of curiosity and finds a decent-looking french toast in-progress on the pan frying.

Dean whistles. "Nice," he says, "do we have syrup?"

Adam nods. "Yep."

Dean hums. "Awesome, great, okay then. So you guys are… planning on staying here then?"

They're not… unwelcome, per se. Adam is— God, what Dean would give to be able to make up for all he'd done to Adam. Few people'd had as awful lots in life as Dean and Sam had. Adam was— he was one of the unlucky few. So if Adam wanted to stay in the Bunker? Fuck it. Of course he was welcome.

Michael on the other hand… Well. The closest Dean had ever come to trusting an archangel was their brief time working with Gabriel — and he was a flighty bastard. Dean trusted one angel — Castiel. There, quota met, the rest of the heavenly host could go fuck themselves. He doesn't even necessarily trust that the moment they somehow impossibly defeat Chuck, Michael will move in as the next big bad and try to restart the next end of days. Apocalypse 2: Electric Boogaloo. Dean would much prefer to keep the son of a bitch as far away from his meat suit as possible.

Nonetheless, Dean gets the feeling that somehow, Adam and Michael are a fucking package deal — literally. You can't have one without the other. What the hell even is Dean's life? Welp, guess they're bunking with an archangel, again. Like that didn't end horribly the last time, ugh.

Adam looks at him, suddenly hesitant, "Well, yes um, we — ugh fine I — was hoping that—"

Had he been talking to Michael just then? Whatever, didn't matter.

"Adam," Dean starts, "you uh— you don't even have to ask, kid. I know we barely know each other, and I know it hasn't always felt like it, but you are family, kid. You're welcome here anytime."

One side of Adam's mouth turns up on the side but there's a question in his eyes. Dean sighs.

"Yes, ugh, as long as he's with you, Michael's welcome too, I guess." Dean says begrudgingly.

Adam smiles, much fuller this time. "Thanks, Dean."

"Oh and uh, Adam?"

"Yeah, Dean?"

"I think your french toast is burning."

"Shit!"

Dean snickers as Adam turns around and uses the spatula to get his french toast off the pan and onto his plate. Adam breathes a sigh of relief.

"Thanks, now if you'll excuse me Dean, Michael it's your turn to try your hand! I admit, it's not exactly the best french toast I've ever made but I dare you to make a better one."

And then Adam smiles, a genuine blissful smile that Dean, as much as he tries, cannot fucking understand. His eyes glow, an awful, horrible ice blue that makes Dean think about when Gadreel had possessed Sam. And then Adam is gone. Dean can tell by the way his spine straightens, eyes narrow, and mouth twists into a line. Michael has taken over.

Michael scoffs. "Please, Adam, this shall be — what is that phrase you like to use? — a piece of cake."

Whatever Dean had expected Michael to say, it wasn't that.

"Right then, I'll uh, leave you guys to it then? Good luck, I guess."

Dean turns to leave, but before he can, Michael calls out to him.

"Dean, wait."

Dean flinches and turns back, prepares for an attack, a threat, an accusation. He gets none of that.

"Hm?"

"Adam would like to request if you could buy a block of pepper jack cheese the next time you get groceries." Michael speaks flatly.

What the fuck.

"Uh yeah, yeah of course?"

Michael nods in thanks and Dean hightails it out of there.

Jesus Christ, what the fuck was he gonna tell Sam, Cas, and Jack?

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