by Aiden Bates
“We’re not together.” Adam insisted. It was true, as much as he wanted it to be different, he was not going to use Sam’s emotional state as a way to manipulate him into a relationship. He loved him too much for that and cherished him too much as a friend to just twist his feelings that way. “I’m not gonna push for anything any time soon, either.”
“I mean, I would be disappointed if you did, honestly.” Aranea said, sighing. “Still, it’s not like you’ve kept how you feel a secret. And you know Sam loves you.”
“I know Sam loves me as a friend.” Adam insisted firmly. “I’m not going to assume anything that he doesn’t tell me himself—when he’s feeling like himself.”
“I know, hon.” Aranea said as she sighed again. “The game’s about to start. We’ll probably pop our heads in later in the week, when he’s feeling more up to some company.”
“Sounds like a plan. Take care, Arie.” Adam said, already standing as he heard the kettle beginning to whistle.
They said their goodbyes, and the call ended, leaving Adam to his own thoughts once more. As he stepped into the kitchen, he detoured from the stove to go to the dry erase board, wiping Aranea’s note to him away with his sleeve. He didn’t need it anymore, and Sam didn’t need to look at it and worry.
Turning the stove burner off and plucking a mug out from the cabinet, he pressed the release valve on the kettle to open its spout and pour himself a fresh cup. Tendrils of steam rose up, and he breathed in the earthy, rich scent of the tea, letting it fill his lungs and relax him as he exhaled. Leaning against the counter and bringing his mug to his lips, he blew gently on the surface of the tea to cool it, letting his mind wander.
He couldn’t pretend that it wasn’t hard to turn Sam’s advances down. Carrying him to bed and having his way with his lifelong friend had been something of a fantasy for him from the time puberty hit him, though it had never been like that, never been under the circumstances that they found themselves in. His dreams had always, even after Sam had bonded to Dustin, involved Sam leaving Dustin, recovered from his drop, coming to his doorstep and confessing his love for Adam, free of any emotional turmoil or factors that he couldn’t control. Adam would happily sweep his friend off his feet and carry him to bed like the prince that he was, and it would be lovely and perfect.
This…this wasn’t that, not by a long shot. Grief and emptiness had made Sam desperate for comfort, from anyone, and as much as it would have probably been easier for him to give into his passions and help Sam forget how much he was hurting, it would have only hurt them both in the long run, and he knew that. It was a large part of why he hadn’t slipped under the covers with Sam when he agreed to take a nap with him. In any other circumstance, they would have happily snuggled there, beneath the blankets, and Sam would have had to beat him with a pillow to stop him from stealing them all, but he knew that if he had tucked himself in with Sam, it would have just made things that much harder for Sam and for himself.
He had never really been able to deny Sam anything. From the time they were children, Sam had him wrapped around his finger. The Omega didn’t even know it, and that was why he had still stayed in the bed with him, even with everything that had transpired. Admittedly, while it was hard to not give into his fantasies, even just a little, it was still wonderful—and fulfilling a fantasy all its own, admittedly—to fall asleep beside Sam. It was one of the few things that Dustin had never been able to take away from him, even after the two of them had bonded: whenever Sam was with Adam, and they had even a little privacy, they cuddled like lovers, slept in the same bed like it was them that had the bond. Adam shook his head to clear himself of that particular thought.
He sipped thoughtfully at his tea, letting his thoughts meander, though he felt a spark of frustration when they always returned to Sam—though that was nothing new, truly. Still, he could hardly be blamed for fretting over the Omega that, he presumed, was still sound asleep upstairs; to say nothing of the drop, Sam had ended a long term relationship that had grown abusive, and there was no doubt much that Sam had to sort through emotionally.
More than anything, Adam was concerned with the fact that Dustin knew where Sam was; sure, Sam had ended things—rather definitively—but it had taken him ending it twice before Dustin had even grasped that it had ended to begin with. What Adam was most concerned about was that Dustin had all but chased Sam blindly here, and even if Dustin hadn’t managed to piece together that Sam was now living here, he could more than easily presume that Sam would likely be here often. He worried about Dustin trying something, of not being able to fully just let Sam go.
If it came to it, Adam would readily defend Sam—die for him, if that’s what it took; he’d felt that way even before he loved the man, as close as the two of them were as friends—and he’d do it with no regrets. What worried him the most was the idea that Sam would be endangered, that Dustin would try to harm Sam. There was precedent—he’d already tried harming him and their child because of his jealousy and possessiveness, and it was those exact traits that made Adam’s skin prickle with tension. It almost seemed like a foregone conclusion that Dustin would at least try something, but how far he would go remained uncertain. He made a mental note to discuss this with the group—see if they were worried about it, too.
Adam’s dark train of thought was cut off when he began to hear noises—footsteps coming down the stairs. He made a point to take a deep breath and drain the rest of his mug of tea, turning to pour another one in an effort to seem casual and relaxed for Sam. As he topped off his mug, he heard Sam shuffle in, and he could tell by the way he dragged his feet that he was still groggy and waking up. He turned around, making something of a show out of seeming to only just notice Sam coming down—no sense in making him feel watched, in addition to everything that he had going on emotionally.
“Morning, sleepyhead!” Adam said, giving him a small, reassuring smile.
“Evening, Adam.” Sam mumbled, barely parting his lips to form speech.
“You look like you’d rather be sleeping right now.” Adam confessed, trying not to chuckle at the bleary look in Sam’s eyes.
“I would rather be sleeping.” Sam grumbled, rummaging for a cup in the cabinet. “Just thirsty, is all.”
Adam nodded and opted to remain silent and drink his tea while Sam got some water from the faucet. Sam drank deeply, greedily, and seemingly forgetting to breathe in between gulps, as he suddenly gasped for air as he set his empty mug down on the counter.
“Better?” Adam asked as he finished up his tea. “I’d offer you tea, but this is caffeinated—wouldn’t be good for you right now.”
“That’s okay.” Sam said quietly as he waved a hand. “I think I’m good now. Still really tired, though.”
“There’s no shame in just sleeping the rest of the night, y’know.” Adam said with a shrug, hoping that he was hiding how worried he was. “Might do you some good. You still look exhausted, hon.”
There wasn’t an immediate answer, and Adam stole another glance over at Sam to see him contemplating his empty cup, sitting on the counter. Adam thought to say something—ask how he was holding up perhaps—but the words died on his tongue when Sam looked up at him, his face flushed and his expression timid, as if he were strangely shy about whatever it was that he wanted to say. That was new, Adam noted, taking another drink of his tea.
“Could you, ah…I mean,” Sam began, fumbling through his words as he fidgeted with his hands. “Would you mind staying with me? Until I fall back asleep, at least?” His voice sounded small, and Adam didn’t get the chance to even respond before he was already beginning to falter. “I don’t want to pressure you, though. It just feels nice, and I feel safe when you’re there. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to and,” Sam stammered before huffing an irritated sigh. “I’m…I’m contradicting myself, aren’t I?”
“Not exactly.” Adam breathed a laugh, setting his now empty mug on the counter and straightening. “You’re tr
ying to say what you want without demanding it—polite, if a bit awkward.” He couldn’t help but grin at the blanched expression that took over Sam’s features. “But I don’t mind. I’m debating sleeping, too.”
It wasn’t a lie—his head had begun to pound. Though he knew that he’d eaten enough and managed to properly hydrate himself, at least a bit, he figured that his lingering tiredness was just the stress and the bursts of adrenaline in the earlier hours of the day. Sleeping for a considerable while more—hopefully through the night—was an incredibly appealing thought.
“Oh,” Sam’s whole body seemed to unwind itself from the tightened coil of tension he’d made it, and he smiled. “Yeah…yeah that’s…yeah, that’s what I was trying to do.” He bit his lip, holding his hand out shyly. “Coming?”
“You got it, boss man.” Adam said, gripping his hand and giving his friend a broad grin as he led him back up the stairs.
As they padded back into Sam’s room, Adam hesitated, and Sam took the opportunity to crawl into bed first, burrowing under the covers. Adam debated coming up with an excuse to sit in the armchair, or perhaps sleep atop the blankets again, but Sam made a sleepy, insistent noise as he tugged the blankets to the side to make an opening for him. So Adam gave a soft but content sigh as he slipped under the covers as well, pleased with the warmth of the blankets and Sam as he nudged the Omega over.
He could never really deny Sam anything, after all.
9
Where Do We Go From Here?
By the time Sam opened his eyes again, he found himself blinking back the early morning rays of the sun. Alarmed, confused, and still half asleep, he fumbled for his phone, nearly letting out a startled yelp when he felt a warm body beside him before his mind caught up with him, and he remembered that it was Adam—just Adam. He bit back a snort at the thought—just Adam, as if he wasn’t someone that meant so much to him. Still, he managed to find his phone in his pocket and checked the time. He just barely stopped himself from groaning in frustration when he realized that it was only seven in the morning—he didn’t want his frustration to wake Adam up, still snoring gently beside him.
Just as well, Sam thought, letting his phone drop onto the mattress on the opposite side of Adam’s comatose form. It was early, and Adam wouldn’t have to get up for another hour or so, and Sam was content to simply lie there and glean what comfort he could out of the Alpha’s presence while he could. He still didn’t entirely feel like himself, he felt leagues better than he had the night before, though he wasn’t sure if that was just because he had slept, or because his drop was truly not going to be that bad. That he was already feeling less heartsick spoke to how far removed his feelings for Dustin had become, and while there was a special kind of bittersweet sadness involved with that thought, overall he couldn’t find it in him to regret it. The less pain he felt over someone who was so ready to hurt him, the better.
He hadn’t realized that Adam had woken up already until he saw the Alpha stretch from the corner of his eye, and he briefly debated feigning sleep just so that there was no awkwardness in the light of morning—though there was so rarely any to be had at all between them. Sam still felt the lingering guilt over how he had all but thrown himself at Adam in desperation, and he feared that Adam was leery of him because of it. Not that he would have blamed him for the reaction, it was just that he didn’t want to have to face it, as cowardly as that was. Adam saw him awake before he could decide on what to do, and Sam was relieved when he merely gave him a sleepy smile—the same one he had given Sam for years whenever they awoke next to one another.
“Morning sleepyhead,” Adam said again, his voice raspy from disuse and still thick with sleep.
“Well, now it’s morning.” Sam retorted, a bit annoyed that he was already as awake as he was. “So, good morning.”
“I’m making us breakfast.” Adam said around a wide yawn as he began to shuffle out of bed. “And I’m not hearing a no from you this time, mister. You need to eat.”
Sam had opened his mouth with the intent to deny it—he was a grown man that could make his own decisions, thanks very much—when his stomach growled loud enough that he was sure Adam heard it, if the way the Alpha’s brow arched was any indication—so he simply sighed and nodded his head as he followed Adam out of bed. Truth be told, breakfast didn’t sound bad at all—especially not if Adam was going to make omelettes like he had almost done yesterday.
Adam was cheerful as he led them into the kitchen to prepare for breakfast, whistling a tune as he rummaged through the fridge for ingredients.
“I’m thinking ham, cheese, and veggies for mine.” Adam commented idly as he peered from over the top of the open fridge door. “What sounds good to you?”
“Just cheese and veggies for mine.” Sam said after a moment of consideration.
“You got it!” Adam said, beaming as he resumed gathering what he needed and spread them all out on the counter.
Sam pulled a jug of orange juice from the refrigerator and poured each of them a glass before he took a seat at the kitchen table, letting the ambient sounds of Adam moving around the kitchen fill the silence, as it soothed him. He let out a happy hum as he began to smell the fresh peppers that Adam was cutting up for the omelet—green and red peppers, he realized. Before long, the scent of eggs and vegetables filled the air, and Sam breathed it in, his stomach gurgling in anticipation.
Adam was surprisingly quick cooking Sam’s omelette, sliding him a plate with a generously sized and colorful omelette.
“Thanks, Adam,” Sam said, breathing in the aroma of the omelette. “This looks amazing.”
“Don’t they always?” Adam said around a grin as he began to prepare his own breakfast.
Sam sighed happily as he took a drink of his orange juice while he waited for his food to cool. As tentative as this happiness was, he was content to merely sit there and wait to be able to enjoy his breakfast, with Adam bouncing happily around the kitchen as he sang some song that he didn’t know off key. It was normal—as close to normal as he could get with where he was at emotionally—and it was nice. This morning was…nice.
That was, until Sam smelled the ham cooking and was suddenly overwhelmed with a wave of nausea that he couldn’t fight back. He bolted out of his chair, nearly knocking it over in the process. He thought he heard Adam make a noise of alarm, but he knew that he wouldn’t have the time to address the Alpha’s concern; his need for the bathroom was urgent, and he only just barely managed to make it to the toilet in time before he promptly began to heave.
Morning sickness, Sam realized belatedly. And he had just started feeling better, too.
Adam didn’t come in while he knelt in front of the toilet expelling what was in his stomach, and honestly, he was glad for that—it gave him a chance to rinse his mouth out to wash the lingering taste of sick when he was done. As he managed to pull himself up from clearing his mouth, he met his own gaze in the mirror—and instantly lowered his stare to the bandage on his neck. Looking at it made his stomach flip again, though he managed to calm himself from getting ill all over again by taking slow, deep breaths to collect himself.
When he stepped out of the bathroom after a few long moments of collecting himself, he was glad that Adam had taken great pains to cover the scent of the ham—there was a pine scented candle on the kitchen table when he returned on shaky legs, and the fan above the stove was working on high to dispel the scent. Sam returned to his seat, smiling apologetically at Adam, who was seated with his omelette in front of him.
“Sorry about that, hon.” Adam said sheepishly as he speared his food with his fork. “I didn’t think it would make you sick.”
“I kind of didn’t think about the possibility of morning sickness.” Sam let out a shaky laugh as he spoke. “I almost thought I’d dodged the bullet—silly me.” He gave a wry smile.
“Are you going to be able to eat?” Adam asked, his face scrunched in concern. “I could make you something else or put your f
ood away until you’re hungry again.”
“I’m still hungry.” Sam reassured him with a sigh. “And even if I wasn’t, you’re right: I have to eat.”
Still, he ate in smaller bites than he had planned on eating, nibbling at the eggs a little at a time. The omelette was still fluffy and wonderful, and because he ate it slowly, it settled in his stomach gently, for which he was grateful. Still, there was far too much for him to finish, and Adam was gracious, sticking his leftovers in a container for later, before clearing their plates and heading to his room, doubtless to change for work.
His suspicions were confirmed when Adam stepped back down the stairs a few minutes later, clad in a black business suit and adjusting his silver tie as he checked his watch. It amazed Sam, how good Adam looked when he groomed himself into a professional visage, with his bangs slicked to the side and his stubble shaved clean. Adam always cut a striking figure, though in a suit, he looked stunning.
“I should be home around six or so.” Adam said, his tone conversational as he checked his pockets—likely to make sure he had his keys and things. “But if anything comes up at all, please call, all right?”
“I will.” Sam promised, his voice a squeak as he nodded.
“Promise, Sam?” Adam asked insistently, hesitating by the door. “I’m just…sorry, I’m just worried, is all.”
“I promise.” Sam yessed him.
“Okay,” Adam nodded, turning the doorknob with the intent to leave. He hesitated a moment just as he cracked the door open. “I could just take the day off. Just say the word, and I can—”
“Adam, no.” Sam shook his head. “I’m not gonna ask you to put your life on hold for me just so I can cry on your shoulder.” He blew out a breath and raked a hand through his hair. “And hell, I have to work today, anyway, so it’s not like I’ll be available to do what I like either.”