#Could have made premade dough/mix cookies and it would have been fine

[chika-nyan]

Making some butterhorns for crimas gift treats 8U Some look better than others, but they all taste good so tis a success!! 8V)b

[ckneal]

Now, I’ve been around fanfiction long enough to know that in any angel-turns-human AU story, there is one question that burns brighter than all the rest: What about their first sick day?

Well, I’ll tell you this: That first year after the rapture, out of the two of them, Adam is actually the first one to get sick. He picks up a really, truly nasty, slowburn of cold about a month after bringing Michael home. And, aware that he had just taken a huge chunk of time off (convincing Sam and Dean to help bring Michael out of the Empty was not an overnight task, nor teaching Jack how to make a new human body from scratch), Adam initially tried to smother the growing ailment with over-the-counter remedies and sheer willpower, while this bug steadily asserted dominance, laying waste to his sinuses, building up pressure inside his head, and settling into his chest and making itself heard in his throat. Three days in, his boss finally sent him home because everyone knew, even if he was refusing to say that he was sick. Michael, of course, was relieved to see Adam finally resign himself to bedrest, even though the entire situation is a sharp reminder of the fact that Michael is no longer a divine being, capable of healing with a touch. He feels all the more useless when Adam, well-meaning but also speaking through a haze of cold medicine and the beginnings of a fever, tells Michael he should keep his distance, because who knows how badly his cold would hit someone with virtually no antibodies.

Adam then passed out for the majority of the day, while Michael proceeded to mope in the living room, feeling like he’d been banished, pretending to have something to do but really just moving things around the room that were perfectly fine as they were before. He’d given up, gone online, and scrolled past the third post on his favorite Supernatural site that he normally would have jumped to correct on their misinterpretation of lore had he not been so preoccupied (never mind that he still hasn’t actually read his father’s books), before it struck him that he does know what to do in this situation.

Adam had shared a lot of memories in the cage, particularly during the years right after Lucifer’s departure, when they were first alone together and Michael was more guarded when it came to participating in conversation. Many of those memories had been from Adam’s childhood that he had deemed ��harmless.” And as such, while Michael was new to the practice of being around sickness, Michael actually did know how to take care of someone. At least, he knew how Kate would have taken care of Adam. While never having met Kate Milligan, Michael was aware that she had been very young when she had Adam and that she had raised him alone, that she worked often, and that as Adam got older, it became increasingly difficult for her to take time off from work to care for him when he became ill. But she would do what she could in her off hours.

One of those things was preparing meals in advance that Adam could pick from as needed. Michael wasn’t overly acquainted with cooking at that point, but luckily, Kate hadn’t been either. She would buy premade items from the grocery store and alter them at home. Adam’s favorite had been half and half peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, which had been made by purchasing dough for both confections and simply meshing them together before baking. Oddly, the more difficult item to find was the soup. It was canned, but Kate had stuck to a specific brand, because it had been Adam’s favorite brand during a brief period of pickiness when he was eight. It didn’t appear to be as common in the city where Adam and Michael had settled as it had been in Minnesota during the 90s. Fortunately, Michael had stolen Adam’s phone before going shopping, and a stranger he came across in the greeting cards section at the drug store showed him how to use the map function to locate various stores nearby.

Adam managed to sleep through the racket that ensued from Michael coming home and fumbling his way through what, make no mistake, could only very loosely have been called cooking--Michael managing to unsettle a tower of stacked mixing bowls and burn himself on both the stovetop and interior of the oven--Adam only finally waking up when his nose cleared long enough for the smells to reach him. Michael was standing by, and Adam very quickly found himself being pushed onto his back when he opted to sit up.

“Michael? Get out of here, you’re going to get sick.”

“Not if you don’t breathe on me,” Michael said, quoting a memory from when Adam was nine that he knew wasn’t strictly true, but did not particularly care. He had a jar of Vicks Vaporub in hand and was pulling Adam’s shirt out of the way.

“What’s that smell?”

“Dinner. Hold still.”

“Since when do you cook?”

“Since a half hour ago, hold still.”

Despite twice repeating the instruction, it’s only when Michael straddles Adam that Adam actually lays still. He continues to press for details though, because Adam does recognize the aroma drifting in from the kitchen, and while he doesn’t particularly remember sharing those memories, he isn’t so much surprised that Michael does (Michael’s recall verges on obsessive), as he is by the fact that Michael actually did something with it. In the month since leaving Kansas, Michael only very rarely left their apartment, and never on his own.

Had it not been for the fact that he was determined to wait for Michael to decide when they would be back on those terms, Adam might have forgotten he was contagious and kissed Michael right then.

“You didn’t have to do all that.”

“I wanted to.”

Michael only looked up from Adam’s chest and noticed the way Adam was looking at him when Adam’s hand settled on top of his. That was, additionally, the moment when it struck Michael he was straddling Adam, and that the last time one of them had done that to the other, one of them hadn’t actually been physically real, and that they hadn’t done what they’d been doing then in a fairly long time. Of course, it hadn’t seemed strange to him to get into this position a second ago, as, in terms of Michael’s projections, they had done a lot more than kiss, and their relationship with one another hadn’t changed at its core since, but in terms of Michael being a physically present being in a body of his own, they hadn’t actually. . .

“Michael?”

“Yes, Adam?”

“I’m pretty sure I smell smoke.”

And then all at once, Michael was scrambling off the bed, the moment hastily pushed aside in his rush to save the cookies (which were burnt, but a benefit of Kate’s “recipe” was that there was plenty of dough leftover for new batches). By the time that Michael came back, Adam had remembered that he was a breathing germ farm and subsequently put his bedroom eyes away, and Michael suggested they relocate to the couch and watch the obnoxious devil show that Adam liked (Lucifer) while they ate.

Of course, despite Adam’s gradually flagging efforts to keep Michael at a distance for the sake of his health, Michael wound up catching the cold and would spend the next two weeks buried under every blanket they owned while Adam returned the favor of taking care of him. Because Adam was right, he had no antibodies, of course he was going to get sick.

[secretlynestaarcheron]

N.E.I.G.H.B.O.R.S Pt. 3 // Fanfic

Modern Friends AU // Nessian

The One With The Wedding 

A/N: Wow, just wow. Just a quick thank you for the love I’ve been getting for this story that I am literally winging. I never thought I would make more then a part one so thank you to everyone requesting more. 

“I now pronounce Mr and Mrs Rhysand Velaris,” the minister exclaimed, Nesta watched from her seat as the couple made their way down the makeshift aisle. Rhys and Feyre had their wedding at night on the rooftop of Rhys townhouse, which overlooked the city. They said they wanted to be married under the stars since that’s how he proposed and how they first said “I love you” to each other. 

The wedding was small. Very small. The only people invited were Elain and Lucien, Mor, Azerial, Cassian, their father (who didn’t show up), and Nesta. “I can’t believe Feyre’s married,” Elain whispers to her husband in the row behind Nesta. “She just graduated college and now she’s married.” 

Nesta frowned and tried to ignore the pang of jealousy she was always feeling lately whenever they talked about Elain and her new baby or Feyre’s wedding. “You coming to the reception?” Nesta turns to see that the rooftop was empty and Elain was standing in the doorway waiting for her. “Are you alright, Nes?” 

“Oh yeah, I just zoned out,” she replies giving Elain the best smile she could muster as she followed her sister down in the living room. Rhys had moved all the furniture in his dining room earlier that morning making a small dance floor where he and Feyre were currently slow dancing, Mor and Cassian were trying to waltz and failing, and Lucien was pretending to dance with his daughter. 

She walked over towards the makeshift bar and poured herself a glass of the first bottle she could find. “You know, Mor and I waited years to tell each other how we felt and I regret every single day I didn’t tell her how I felt,” Azerial says, leaning against the counter next to her. 

She takes a sip of her drink to calm her nerves before turning towards him. “And your telling me this why?” she asks, not even trying to cover the bitter tone in her voice. 

He chuckles in reply. “I just don’t want you to make the same mistake I made,” he replies, she turns to see where he’s looking and see him watching Mor and Cassian. Cassian goes to dip Mor but they are both laughing too much that he almost drops her. “Now if you excuse me….” he places his drink on the counter and she watches as she makes his way to the them and cuts in taking Mors hand and pulling her close to him. Cassian scoffs jokingly before looking over at her. They make eye contact and he offers her a small smile but she turns back to her drink finishing it swiftly before exiting the room to find a bathroom. 

She’s been to Rhys house plenty of times to know where the bathroom is but she needed to get out of their or she was going to suffocate. She didn’t want to ruin her sisters big day with her jealousy but she couldn’t just sit their and watch her sisters move on with their lives while she was stuck in some sort of limbo. 

She wanders her way back onto the roof and leans against the edge, staring up at the starry night. Her mind wanders back to that night a months ago when Rhys and Feyre had just been engaged. 

“These better be delicious for all this work. Have you ever heard of premade cookie dough that you just stick in the oven?” Cassian asks, as he stirs the dry ingredients. Nesta was currently working on the mixing together the wet ingredients. 

She laughs and retorts, “It isn’t relaxing if you keep complaining.” 

“My bad,” he says, and opens his mouth to say something but the mixer he was using backfires and covers his whole shirt in the flour. He coughs through the smoke of white flour. 

“You look like the abominable snowman,” she chuckles, when the flour clears and she can see the flour covering his face and shirt. “You’re cleaning that up by the way.” 

She goes back to mixing the wet ingredients when she feels the white powder hit the side of her face. She coughs it up and glares at him. “Hey, I am cleaning it up anyways why not make a little more mess,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“What happened to “Craving fresh out of the oven cookies” and “wanting to experience a relaxing night of baking”?” she counters, while he’s distracted thinking up an answer she takes the bowl full of dry ingredients and dumps it over his head.

“Nesta Archeron, you just started a war you are not going to win,” he says, moving towards her side of the counter to shake his flour covered hair on her. 

She squeals and quickly runs away from him. He chases her finally able to grasp her waist and pull her into his chest. “Come on Nes, I just wanted to give you a hug to tell you that I appreciate you trying to teach me how to bake.” 

She struggles in his grasp, trying to free herself, but his grip around her waist tightens and he leans his head down to rest on hers allowing all the pile of flour on his head to dump onto her. 

“I can not believe you just did that. Do you know how long this is going to take to get out of my hair?” she complains, finally pulling away from him just enough to be able to glare at him. 

“How about next time you bake and I cook?” he asks. 

“If it’s going to end like this, no thanks,” she says, gesturing to the mess surrounding them. “Besides, I can cook just fine for myself.” 

He snorts in response. “Really? Is that why I constantly hear the fire alarms going off in here?” He can see the faint blush behind the white flour covering her face and smiles. “We make a make a great team. I’ll cook without setting the apartment on fire and you can bake without it looking like a tornado went off.” 

She pauses and leans towards him. He thinks shes going to kiss him but she pulls away abruptly and he can see her shields going up. What happened to make her so guarded? “It’s late, I should clean this up and go to bed.”

“Oh yeah, of course,” he says, turning to start cleaning up the mess on the counter. 

“I can do it, you should probably head back to your apartment anyways,” she says, he pauses before nodding and she can see the hurt on his face as he turns to leave.  

Nesta continues to look over the edge, her thoughts full of what ifs. What if she allowed herself to kiss him. What if she wasn’t so guarded. What if she allowed herself to be happy. To be loved by someone not related to her. She quickly shuts them down. She didn’t kiss him and that was good. No attachment. If she did kiss him and it ended up not working out then one of them would have to find a new apartment. 

“Nes?” Mor yells, Nesta turns just in time to see her new (sort of) friend in the doorway. Nesta was silently glad for the distraction. She did not want to make herself feel worse by thinking of “what ifs” “Feyre and Rhys are about to leave.” 

           I-Think-We-All-Know-I-Am-Going-To-Continue-So-I-Won’t-Bother-                                            Trying-To-Be-Mysterious 

Wow… two updates in one day. I am pretty proud of myself tbh