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Pain shot through her busted lip as she let herself into Adam's room. Blood dripped down her chin, one eye swelling, more crimson decorating her torn clothes and coating her hands. "Hey, Sugar Cookie. I need your shower again. For a completely different reason this time." A few of Crowley's minions had managed to catch up to her. They got some hits in before she massacred them. But now there was an aching in her ribs, head and mouth and all she wanted was to torment a certain someone and cheer herself up. "Sorry I couldn't bring you a present this time."


Adam is sprawled with an absurd sort of grace in the hotel chair, casually flinging knives at the opposite wall and listening to the news half-attentively, when the door suddenly opens itself. Since it doesn't open with a violent crash and splinters where the lock was kicked out, he's got a good idea of who to expect. But then he sees her and he's on his feet without thought, striding towards her, features colored by concern. "Jesus Christ, Meg, what the fuck happened?"

Meg laughed at his choice of exclamations. "Interesting choice of words. Crowley's demons. They've been following me remember? Well I didn't want to go quietly." She held up her blood-soaked hands. "They should listen. When a lady says 'no', it means 'no'." The concern on his face brought a small smile to hers. "I didn't realize you cared. Fuck." It hurt to speak. Wincing, she brought one hand up to her split lip. "Guess I won't be as chatty for you today, Stallion."

Yeah, he should probably have gotten past invoking the Name of The Lord by now, but habits. The fact that Meg sounds like herself goes some way to settling his nerves, but not all the way. "That's verging on rude." Reaching her, Adam uses the back of his hand to carefully tilt her chin up so he can scrutinize the wounds on her face, an instinctive action like the blasphemous exclamation. "I take it you taught them better manners." Not really waiting for a response, he darts into the bathroom to get a wet cloth; without the blood it'll be easier to see what needs to be done. It doesn't really occur to Adam that he's treating this like triage for a regular person.

Meg eyed him as he examined her wounds. It almost made her laugh. When he darted to the bathroom, she shook her head and took a seat on the edge of the bed. "Sort of. They won't need manners where they are." Sighing, she laid back on the bed and shut her eyes. She'd been so careful until today. One wrong move and she was surrounded. Cursing herself, she sat up and groaned. It'd been a while since she'd been beat and she didn't enjoy it now anymore than she used to.

Finding Meg sitting on the bed, Adam hooks a chair with a foot and drags it over so he can sit in front of her. Again tilting her chin up, he starts carefully cleaning the blood from her face. "Where did they catch you?" He can't help wondering if he was right before; maybe Crowley's creatures have caught on to the fact that Meg comes here fairly often. Finished with preliminary cleaning of her face, he takes one of her hands, although it's quickly obvious that most of the blood there isn't hers.

Hissing, she did her best not to pull her head away. "Don't worry, it wasn't anywhere near by. It was near my hideout. I got careless. Won't happen again." The demon arched a brow as he took her hand. "Ripping their hearts out with my bare hands was too much fun to pass up." There was a gleeful smile on her face that showed just how much fun it had been. "Was your night half as entertaining as mine?" she asked. Adam caring was strange for her. Not wanting to look at it too closely, she turned her attention to her hands. "None of it's mine. Or if it is, it's from my mouth."

Adam nods for that information, actually not all that relieved. Hopefully she has other hideouts. He's a little too focused to laugh at the comment about ripping hearts out, but a corner of his mouth twitches up, and shakes his head at the following question. "Not even a quarter." The washcloth is proving entirely inadequate to get all the blood off those hands, and with the added explanation he isn't concerned about getting them clean, tosses the thing aside. Instead he looks back at her mouth with that same clinical look of detachment, brushing the split in the lip with his thumb, but very gently. "Is that the only thing they managed?"

Wincing, she pulled her head away, though she regretted it. It wasn't often he touched her first. "I told you when I came in, I gotta hijack your shower again, Sugar Cookie." Leaning her head forward, she brought a hand up to her side. "I got some pain here but it'll heal. I'll heal. I just want to get cleaned up." Her clothes were ruined but she'd have to get more later, try and get her stuff from her hideout hopefully. "Nurse Adam. Gotta say, it's pretty hot." She wouldn't be herself if she didn't try and annoy him at least a little bit.

When she winces away, Adam frowns a bit and draws his hand back. "Sorry." He looks down at the indicated spot where she has pain, and her words finally bring it home that she's a lot more invulnerable than the patients he'd deal with on free-clinic days during school. Laughing ruefully at himself, he shakes his head. "Right. Of course you'll heal. I guess stitches would be kind of superfluous." Pressing his boots against the floor, he shoves the chair back and out of her way, motioning towards the bathroom in offering. The not-unexpected tease makes him roll his eyes. "Yeah. That was the whole point of my studies, so I could look sexy in scrubs."

Apparently that really was the wrong move. Rolling her eyes, she pushed herself up off the bed. "Stitches would be wonderful, actually, I'm not the quickest healer. But I think I can make do with a shower." Painfully, she began working her blood-soaked shirt up as she walked to the bathroom. Today wasn't really the day she wanted to bicker with him. A hiss of pain escaped as she finally got it over her head and dropped it to the ground. She'd been cocky. Staying ahead of Crowley and his minions for so long, she started believing she wouldn't be caught. Every ache she felt for a while would show her otherwise. Groaning, she didn't bother shutting the door as she walked over to the shower and turned it on, the water as hot as she could get it. The rest of her clothes were a bit easier and the water felt wonderful on her skin. Pink swirled down the drain as she scrubbed at her hands and stomach. Fucking Crowley and his fucking plans and his fucking lackeys.

"You sure? I mean, I've got all this silk lying around. Pink stitches would be fashionable." Adam follows her course to the bathroom, narrowing his eyes at the obvious pain as she removes that shirt. It was nothing to be taken lightly, obviously, but Adam's not sure how he can alleviate any of it. He never did demon biology. Well, she's still in a human body, so maybe he can manage. Once she's ensconced in the shower, Adam heads down the hall to fill up the provied ice bucket (plastic, so still unbroken) at the machine, setting it on the dresser when he returns and pawing through the clothes he's tossed haphazardly into the drawers. He'll need something to wrap the ice in, and probably something for Meg to wear, because if he knows her (and he's starting to, at least) she'll come out of the bathroom bare-ass naked again.

Sighing, she stepped out of the shower, watching the way the steam moved through the room. Meg eyed the towels and finally decided to don one. The pretty colors on her side weren't something she was eager to show off. Walking out of the bathroom, she gave Adam a half-smile. "Don't worry. Your eyes are safe today. So's your virginity, Stud Muffin." Why poke the bear that's wanting to help? Because she couldn't help herself. It was just her way. Not likely to change. "So you want to help me, make me feel better. I think a lap dance could accomplish all that. How about it, pickle pie? You up to giving me one?" she asked half-heartedly. Meg groaned as she sat on the edge of the bed like before, careful to keep her towel wrapped around her.


Oh look at that, she's all not naked and stuff. Adam's relieved but also inevitably a little disappointed. "Nice to know. Guarding my virtue can be fucking exhausting with you around." Waiting until Meg sits down, he tosses an oversized t-shirt onto the bed next to her. "That might help preserve yours better than a towel." Hopefully a demon won't get too offended by the implication that she has any virtue. It's difficult to tell sometimes. Turning away, the kid busies himself with making a functional non-leaking ice pack from a few plastic bags. That suggestion makes him grin, and though he's turned away it shows in his voice. "Not tonight, sorry. You don't look like you could handle that sorta vigorous activity."

"I think my feelings are hurt. You want me to stop flirting with you, that can be arranged." Meg groaned and picked up the shirt, carefully pulling it on before standing up to settle it in place and toss the towel aside. "That would be why I suggested you do the dancing." Shaking her head, she sat on the edge of the bed again, watching his back for a moment. With a groan, she laid back, careful to keep the bottom of the shirt covering her. "Would it be better if I left? I have to start looking for a new safehouse anyway after all."

Adam snorts at that assertion, still sounding amused. "No, it can't be. Think you've proven that." But he can't be that callous, not even teasingly, particularly when she's all beat up, so he adds as he turns around, giving her a brief look: "And you know I don't want you to." He finishes wrapping the bagged ice in a shirt, tying the sleeves together to make it a compact little parcel, finally looking up when she speaks again. Eyebrows tugging inward in confusion at the tone, he tilts his head, then shakes it. "It'd be better if you stayed. Heal up at least before you go looking for a new bolthole. Here." He offers the ice pack out. "Put it on your ribs, it should help."

Of course she took it wrong at first, but the addition that he didn't want her to made her eyes widen slightly. Clearing her throat, she sat up and took the proffered ice pack. "Thanks. You going to share the bed?" she asked in a mild tone as she did as instructed and placed the ice pack over her sore ribs. Groaning, she scooted up the bed and laid back, trying to keep the shirt down the best she could. "You're right. I'm not up for vigorous activities. Your v-card is safe, pineapple chunk. Now come watch a gory movie with plenty of nudity. I'm injured after all," she said. Every movement of her lip hurt, but this was Meg after all. Wincing, she brought her free hand up to her lip. "Pretty tasty," Meg stated as she licked the blood from her fingertips.

Tipping his head to the side for that thanks, Adam looks thoughtful, still a little bit in first aid mode even if he knows it's mostly pointless. "Eventually. Can I get you anything else? Do painkillers even work for you?" Again with the virginity jokes. The kid rolls his eyes half-heartedly, but doesn't bother to bicker over whether he's a virgin or not. Maybe he might as well be one. "I'm so relieved. Saving myself for marriage, y'know." Even though she doesn't need it, Adam tosses the remote onto the bed and then just sort of stands there uselessly, watching with an arched eyebrow while she cleans the blood from her lip...then licks it off. Which is oddly appealing. Adam blinks. "Do you want me to try stitching that, or would you rather savor it?"

"We could give the pain killers a go. No idea if they'll work." The way he watches her lick her fingers, she couldn't help but grin. "Well you could always savor it for me. Have you tried it before? Cause you're missing out if not." Winking, she wondered if he'd take her up on the offer. "I'm not sure how often I'll bleed around you, so this might be your only time to get to try it." The demon touched her lip once more and held her fingers out to him, her eyes flicking back and forth from the crimson liquid on her fingers to his face. His reactions were always a mystery to her. She never knew if he was coming or going. Of course she'd eventually settle her eyes on him, giving Adam all her attention. "How about it, Sugar Cookie?"

At that suggestion, the second eyebrow joins the first in arching, but he straightens his head. "Very tempting." That was meant to sound sarcastic and dismissive, but it doesn't quite make it. "Uh...I'll get the painkillers." One would think that Meg would be less taunting when she's injured, but apparently not, so for now Adam retreats into the safety of practical things, trying not to look too much like he's running away when he goes to paw through a duffel bag. After a few moments he returns with a variety of prescription bottles, which he'd stolen from the houses he broke into before he realized they did nothing at all for his frequent headaches. He passes them over, followed by an actual bottle of water, because he's not *always* getting drunk. "Take your pick."

The demon licked the blood from her fingers herself, of course he wouldn't give in. When would he? Meg rolled her eyes and took the bottles from him. "Adam. Stop." Getting to her knees, she groaned and set everything in her hands aside. Carefully, she crawled to the edge of the bed so she was kneeling and nearly eyelevel. "Stop running from the things you want. You spent an eternity in Hell. You deserve to take whatever it is you want. If something is appealing, try it. Like this." Meg lifted her hand to her lips once more and brought them up to his face once she had coated them in her blood. "If you want to try it, try it. It's not the end of the world. I mean it is, but trying demon blood won't be the cause of it."

Adam scowls disapprovingly, but it's not only because she's moving around when she should be staying still. The expression naturally fades back to his usual inscrutable Face while she talks, though his eyes are still plainly wary if one bothers to look. Again, he watches as Meg clears the blood from her lip, as she holds that hand out to him, and for a moment stays just as he is, stoic and stolid. Then a hand lifts to curl around her wrist, and his head dips, tongue flicking out to swipe the blood off the pads of her fingers, slow and uncertain like he's only learning how to use the muscle. He remains there afterward with the blood a sharp burst of metallic flavor in his mouth, but raises his gaze to meet Meg's. "It wasn't the blood that appealed to me, Meg."

The feel of his tongue on her finger made her breath catch. But his words. His words nearly floored her. She licked her lips as she tried to think of how to word it. "W-Well what did, then?" Meg breathed out, her eyes not daring to look from his. His hand on her wrist sped her pulse. The fact that she was kneeling on a hotel bed, alone with him, in absolutely nothing but his shirt while bleeding and a hard thought from him. . .Meg wasn't used to this sort of thing or someone actually having an effect on her. It wasn't often that she was at a loss for words either. What could she possibly say? Right now, there were no words she wanted to say, only one action she wanted to take and she was all out of bravery tonight.

His eyes narrow in confusion, because truly, he figures the answer was obvious. But maybe not. Maybe he's as drastically different from the people she usually associates with as she is from the people he's known; maybe his actions are actually as baffling to her as her behavior can be to him. So Adam makes a small amused noise before answering simply: "You." And then, before he can completely lose the resolve, he leans in farther and draws her arm down, out of the way, and lets his tongue dart out to repeat the previous action, this time smoothing over the cut in her lip instead.

Meg knelt there, waiting for him to pull away, to make a rude comment and back off. But his one word answer widened her eyes until she thought they would pop out of her head. When he lowered her arm, she didn't know what would happen. She certainly didn't expect him to lick the wound on her lip. Shock coursed through her as she racked her brain for what she could possibly do in this situation. Anyone else, she'd pull them close and fall into bed. But the one person or whatever the Hell he was, he was licking her lip and she had no idea what the fuck to do. He wasn't the type to fall into bed with, but she wondered what the Hell she could do here. Or should do. In the end, she knelt there, her free hand coming up to brush his cheek as she held her breath, readying herself for him to pull away again.

Adam does pull away, but only minutely, eyes sliding sideways to watch that hand lift to his cheek. For a second his own free hand raises, like he's going to snatch her arm and pull it away before she can make contact. In the end he doesn't, just exhales audibly when her fingers brush his cheek and returns his eyes to her face. Which is way too close. With a supreme effort of will, Adam doesn't draw back; he even closes in once more, covering Meg's mouth with his own for the space of a couple heartbeats, which seem now unnaturally loud in his ears. Then that free hand does rise, just to rest against Meg's collarbone while he leans away enough to speak. "You should lie down, kittenface." A beat, and then he feels it necessary to add (knowing the way Meg's mind usually works): "Because you're hurt."

The kiss surprised her. Meg reveled in the feel of his mouth against hers for a moment. Then it was over. Sighing, she opened her mouth to say something when he told her to lie down. But his concern and following words stopped her short. Maybe she had a concussion. Could demons get those? Because if so, she had one. Meg tilted her head and tried to think of something to say but all she could come up with was: "Okay. Nurse's orders?" Smiling some, she leaned forward for a quick kiss, couldn't let him have all the fun after all. Then she pulled away and reached for that ice pack he'd so cleverly made. "I think I'll give some of these pain killers a go." Opening a random bottle, she popped a couple in her mouth, followed by a drink of water. Laying down, she looked over at him and used her free hand to pat the bed beside her. "Come nurse me back to health, doc."

Relieved to get past that without any more taunting, Adam nods mock-seriously. "Nurse's orders." He doesn't even wince when she returns that brief kiss, though his hands tighten around her wrist and over her shoulder, respectively, before he releases the former and straightens up, taking a little half-step away from the bed before he gets into a situation he really can't handle. "That's a good idea. They're pretty hardcore, so hopefully they'll do some good." Okay. This is okay. Accepting the moment, then moving through it, and past it, returning to normal (or what passes for normal). That really wasn't so daunting, and now Adam doesn't have to feel like a complete coward. He nods for the request, but steps away to retrieve the throwing knives from the wall before acquiescing and sitting in the space next to her, still more upright than lying down. "What was the other requirement? Movies with gory nakedness?"

Meg chuckled as she saw him retrieve the knives before settling in beside her. "Glad to see that you like my gift. How about if this happens again, I leave one alive and you can use him for target practice? Hmm? Does that sound enjoyable?" The demon laid so that her forehead touched his hip, the TV barely visible as she hunted for the movie she wanted, using the remote he'd tossed on the bed before. This was bizarre and strangely cozy. It wasn't anything she could recall experiencing before. And she had to admit that she liked it. A lot. It scared her with how much she enjoyed this. But she was in too much pain to worry about that tonight. She'd survived an attack and hadn't been dragged back to Crowley. Meg decided she deserved an enjoyable night. Pain and all.

Adam looks down at the knives in his hands when they're mentioned. "I do. Maybe even more than the sippy cups. It's oddly satisfying." For emphasis, he sends one of the knives across the room. It sticks in the wall well enough, though a little below and to the left of where he was aiming. He almost grins for the idea of using one of Crowley's lackeys for target practice. "That might make it even more satisfying." He glances down when Meg curls towards him, just making sure she's not doing anything suspicious, then returns to flinging knives across the room until he runs out of knives. "I need to learn that trick of yours for floating stuff across the room."

Meg doesn't want him to move, so she flicks her fingers and the knives float back, handle first to him. "You do. But that's why it's good I'm around for now." Balancing the ice on her side, she brought her legs up and curled against his legs. "I told you your virtue was safe. Don't believe me?" Her eyes drifted back to the TV as she watched a girl way overacting as she was brutally stabbed again and again. "Bad actors. Good gore. Nice rack." Meg's tongue lazily swept over her lower lip, lapping up what blood she could. She hadn't bothered to try and staunch it, though it wasn't bleeding nearly as badly as it had been. "So I know this is a stupid question or questions, but neither of us knows what the Hell is going on. So . . .why were you so concerned? Why was I more appealing than my blood? I don't. . .I don't understand."

Truthfully, Adam wasn't about to get up to retrieve the knives either way. But he is pleased when they float back, catching them out of the air. "Yeah, sure. I keep you around because you're useful ." His tone is scornful enough to dismiss that idea without further question. Attention drawn to the TV, he watches for long enough to make a noise of careless agreement. Then he notices how Meg's still regularly wiping blood from her lip. With a sort of exasperated noise, Adam snags one of the pairs of silk panties from the nightstand and turns back, using the soft material to wipe away the blood. Again, that question confuses Adam, and he looks at her all squinty for a moment. "That's... Maybe not a stupid question, but it is weird. Why would your blood be more appealing than you?"

Meg tilted her head, wincing as he wiped her blood away. "I liked the other way you did that better. It didn't hurt," she grumbled before settling against him once more. His question confused her. "Because it's useful." The way she said it was like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Why wouldn't it be? You don't have to tell it to shut up. You don't have to worry about it stealing your virtue. It's useful, and demons are expendable. It's the way things work." A small shrug and she shifted some, trying to settle the pack more comfortably. "What was it like with Michael inside you? Do you remember it?" The pain wasn't subsiding, but a small yawn did escape. While demons only slept if they wanted to, healing took a lot of energy. Sleep was a wonderful idea but she had so many questions and these pain killers were acting like some kind of truth serum.

Adam just...doesn't respond to that first bit. Anyway he's too bemused by her continued interrogation to think about it. "Useful. Yeah. Maybe it is, but if demons are so expendable, then I can go find one to drain and use that. It's not going to call me ridiculous names or bring me absurd gifts of panties I won't wear." Wait. That doesn't make Meg sound very appealing either. Try harder. "It won't get me drunk when I need it, or push me when I need that. It doesn't make me laugh or get all fucked up on pain meds and cuddle against me like a puppy." To emphasize the point, Adam runs a hand through her still-drying hair. And then she asks about Michael, out of nowhere, and he's gotta shake his head. "What- ? Man. I am so right about the ADHD."

At first Meg wondered if he found her expendable as well. But the bit about her curling up like a puppy made her hide her face against his hip, though when she felt his hand on her head she moved her head against it. "Maybe I just want to know more about you and my brain moves too quickly for you. Maybe you're just slow," she teased. Her hand patted blindly for his, wrapping around his wrist, she brought it back to her head. "I'm injured, my head hurts, you're not gonna do the gentle blood cleanup, then help me make my head feel better," she demanded in a pouty voice. Yeah. . .maybe giving a demon an ass ton of pain meds was a bad idea. Or maybe it was a great idea. It didn't help the pain, but it made her tired and damned adorable. "You didn't answer the question. Or you can sing me to sleep. Those are your choices. Sing or answer my questions."

Adam laughs. Mostly because he doesn't know what else to do. "Maybe I am. You're not the first person to suggest it." Allowing his arm to be maneuvered, he curls long fingers into her hair, skritching lightly at the scalp. He almost offers to answer in song, but no, Meg would expect him to do it. "All right. What's it like to be possessed by an archangel, was that the question? Or have you come up with another five I missed?"

Meg makes a happy humming sound at the feel of his fingers in her hair and on her scalp. It was wonderful. Right. Questions. "I have quite a few. I thought I would go back to asking one at a time though. Or would you rather I ask them all at once? But the first question was about being posessed by Michael, yes," she murmured as she nuzzled her cheek against his hip before putting her forehead back against it. "Why is this so comfy? Why didn't we do this sooner? What the fuck did you give me?" She paused for a moment. "These questions are rhetorical and do NOT count."

Smirking some for the noise Meg makes, Adam continues massaging her scalp with slow circular movements. "One at a time is good. Let's slow people like me keep up." When she turns her head,he takes the opportunity to gingerly dab at the blood on her mouth. "Well. It's hard to describe. Kinda, searing...except that's too mild. When he'd take over, it felt like everything in me was scorched. My pulse would shoot up until there was no pause between beats, temperature off the charts. And having him inside my head...I'm not sure how it is for people possessed by demons, but I was still aware of everything. Too aware. But I couldn't control any of it. That annoying feedback sound you hear when angels show up is a lot worse from inside." Realizing he's rambling, he cuts himself off, looking vaguely upset. The following queries from Meg ease the tension of his expression some. "I'm not sure but I think I want some of whatever you took. And it's not like I gave you a limit, you can ask more than 20."

As he described what it was like with Michael inside him, Meg couldn't help but frown. The more he described, the closer she cuddled against him. "Apparently they're aware if we want them to be. We can drown them out or let them come up to the surface. There's exceptions, of course." Meg sighed and lifted her head a bit. "How about I keep asking until I fall asleep? Hmmm. . ." The demon scrunched her face up in thought. "What made you want to go into the medical field? To care for people? Much less creatures like me. . ." What the fuck was in that medication. Frowning at her previous statement, she buried her face against his hip once more.

Adam makes a noise of understanding for the information on demons, still kind of distracted by memories. "I wonder if I could be possessed by anything now." Somehow he doubts it, he's not sure why. Stilling his scratching fingers when Meg lifts her head, they slide around to cup the back of her skull while Adam slouches more on the mattress, relocating her head to his stomach before going back to stroking her hair. "You're a people. Just not a human people. But, no, actually that wasn't it. I mean, my mom was a nurse so it occured to me naturally. And I did do my days in the clinic when I had to, but I didn't really want to be a doctor, I wanted to go into research. Even then, I didn't have the sort of personality that makes a good bedside manner."

Meg appreciated the way he moved so she could lay her head comfortably on him. The medication had to be messing with her mind because she turned her head to lay a chaste kiss on his stomach through his shirt before resuming her nuzzling. "I'm a people? That's sweet." Listening to his explanation, she smiled sleepily. "So Hell didn't just make you lose all your people skills then? Hmm. . Okay. I think I've asked this before but you really didn't answer. What kind of girls were you with before you died? Obviously demons weren't your type. Or were they?" Meg groaned as she scrunched her face up in thought. "No. Thinking too hard about this. Just answer so my brain can rest, please," Meg muttered, one hand coming up to lay beside her face as her eyes drifted back to the movie that had been completely forgotten. That always seemed to happen. She'd put a movie on and they would completely ignore it. Of course, she didn't mind. In fact, she found it amusing. Everything was amusing right now though.

Adam's sort of fading out, himself, and even that brief kiss on his stomach only makes him lower his lazily hooded eyes, not even tensing up. "Of course you're a people. What else would you be?" He pats her head a couple times, reassuring or something, before going back to separating the strands of hair with his fingers, finding the itch of them pleasant against his palm. "Well, it did, but my people skills weren't perfect before. And, to tell the truth? I fucking hate being around sick people. Injuries are okay, but illness creeps me out. Snot is fucking gross." Maybe he's absorbed some of whatever the hell drugs Meg took through osmosis. Or maybe it's just that Adam hasn't slept in a long while, either; a few weird dreams about the Winchesters made him decide to do a caffiene-and-energy drink marathon, but that artificial energy is long gone now. "Ah, back to girls again. Demons weren't my type, but maybe that's because I didn't know any demons. For that matter, what makes you think *girls* were my type?" But that will only make her think harder, so what with the pleading, Adam laughs a little and gives in. "I don't know. I didn't have a specific kind of girl, or person, or anything. The first girlfriend I had was the one I was with longest, and she was...funny. Sweet, but not in an annoying way, just considerate. The puppy, and stuff. She had red hair and pretty brown eyes and tons of freckles. I don't know what else you wanna hear."

Meg chuckled about the sick person thing. Okay, medicated Meg was giggly and found Adam absolutely adorable. Then he went on to finally answer her question. The more he answered, the more Meg wondered what the Hell he was putting up with her for. "Wow. Either your tastes got shifted in Hell, or you've lost it. What the Hell are you doing caring about me then? I'm nothing like your redheaded perfect first love who gave you a puppy. The only puppy I'd give you would be a fucking hellhound." Meg had turned her head enough to look up at his face. "You're damned adorable. You're weird as fuck. You're fun to annoy. What the Hell do you like about me enough to now try and blow me up the minute I walk into the room?" Lucifer's bouncing balls, she was turning into a girl. Why do girls always want to poke at things. "Why do you put up with me?" Meg asked in a quiet voice. She didn't want him to hate her or stop putting up with her, but she was curious why he was.


Rolling his eyes, Adam tugs at Meg's hair briefly. "Shut up. I never said she was perfect. She was a complete bitch sometimes. And I'd be stoked to have a Hellhound." Releasing the grasp on her hair, he goes back to petting it instead, arching an eyebrow when she turns to face him. "That would have been flattering if you'd stopped talking a lot sooner. If you remember, the first time I met you, you were already in the room so I didn't have a chance to blow you up when you walked in. And you didn't attack me right off, either, so I thought that might be overreacting a little." That last question makes the kid scowl slightly, returning to a more serious expression. After a moment, he shakes his head. "If you were any of the girls I was with before I died, I'd think you were just looking for compliments. But you aren't, are you? You really don't understand why I want you around?"

A giggle escaped when he tugged on her hair. A fucking giggle. "Am I a bitch in the fun way then? Because I might just know where to find a hellhound puppy." Grinning up at him, she chuckled. "No, I don't want compliments. If I wanted compliments, i would've taken you to see those bodies from earlier. Let you see my handy work. No, pickle pie, I really wanna know," she mumbled as she laid her head back down, fighting her heavy lids. Sleep sounded wonderful. It was beckoning, but who knew if she'd ever get time with him like this again. Plus it wasn't like she'd be drugged like this again. Or she'd try to avoid it. Being injured at all like this again was something she would try very hard to avoid in the future. But all she could think about was rolling over, and having him cuddle her as she fell asleep. But this was a question she really wanted answered. The rest were ones that even this medication couldn't make her brave enough to ask. They would go unasked for . . .hopefully forever. Hopefully, they would be answered without ever having to be asked.

There's a snort of amusement, more for the giggle than her words. "You're everything in the fun way." Adam nods, having at least learned from the not-trick question argument, and tilts his head thoughtfully. "Well...you're damned adorable. I'm weird as fuck. And it's fun when you annoy me." He knows it's kind of a cop-out, feeding back the words she just said, but Adam isn't fond of self-examination or digging at the foundations of feelings. It's a dangerous practice. He shrugs some, helplessly, his fingertips scratching down to the nape of her neck. "I don't know. Do I really need reasons? Can't I just like you?"

"As long as you're fine with me liking you," she mumbled as she let her eyes flutter closed. Sleep was pulling at her, and the half-gone demon adjusted so that her head and hand were pressed to his chest, one leg draped over his. "You can like me. It'll be interesting. Think Lucifer will be mad?" Meg's speech was slurred and barely coherent as she cuddled against him. "I actually don't like pink. It's hideous. I just really like driving you nuts." A drunk-like giggle escaped as she turned her head. Still giggling, she laid a chaste kiss on his chest before cuddling agianst him once more. Half-gone to sleep, she didn't worry as much about him blowing her up or shoving her away. Instead, she seemed to just be making herself comfortable, very comfortable, with him.

"Think I prefer it that way." Meg is far, far too cute, all fucked up and half asleep and cuddly - although Adam still tenses briefly when that leg slips over both of his - and for a moment he can only watch the spectacle of it. Another instance when the popular view of demons was plainly very wrong. The question about Lucifer draws his attention, and he feels one corner of his mouth pulling up despite himself. "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn." Reaching down, Adam removes the ice pack - now more melted than not - from Meg's side, letting it drop to the floor carelessly (maybe the melted ice will help with fire prevention, in case that ever becomes necessary), then taps at her hip a couple times. "Let me get up, kittenface. Just for a second." He's sure this suggestion won't be greeted with joy, so to encourage it, he sits up more and starts inching towards the side of the bed.

The demon chuckled at his reference, remembering the last time he said it as well. Then he started moving. Groaning in protest, she nuzzled her face against him. "Don't go. Stay with me." Of course she let him get up. Making sad noises, she rolled over and pulled a pillow to her chest. "Bad Sugar Cookie. No sexy time. Oh. . ." Another half-gone giggle fit escaped as she cuddled the pillow to her chest and let her tiredness take over. All she wanted was for him to come back to bed. But she was too tired to see whatever it was he had gone to do. "Bad virgin," she mumbled incoherently, face half-buried against the bed. The shirt had won the battle to ride up. And with her in her drugged happy state tossing and turning and moving, it had ridden high. Not that she seemed to care about her bare ass hanging out.

"You are ridiculous when you're high." But he doesn't sound like he minds, and at least she allows him to get up, eventually. Rolling his eyes for the muttering, Adam moves across the room to flip off the bathroom light that was left on after her shower, then turn off the television, too. Who knows where the remote is currently. He even considers that maybe it would be safer not to go back, find some other way to occupy himself while Meg recovers. Sleep is too tempting though, and maybe with the company he won't have those strange dreams, so he divests himself of shoes, socks, and shirt before returning to the bed. And stopping. And staring. Well, he couldn't *not* stare. "And you're not even doing it on purpose this time..." Sighing in an appropriately tormented way, Adam (stares for another moment or two then) knees onto the bed and carefully tugs her shirt back down to a more modest state, before just collapsing onto his side. It takes a little mental pep talk, but he lifts a hand to rest on her side, then allows it to drift forward over her stomach as he slides closer, fitting his chest to her back.

Meg grumbled something unintelligible as she felt him tug the shirt down. But feeling him cuddle her, she managed a small sleepy smile as she cuddled herself against him, one hand pulling his arm tighter around her. Most likely, she wouldn't remember doing this in the morning, her drugged out, mostly passed out state and all. Sleep dragged her under, and she didn't know about his dreams, but if she had, it would be one more thing she'd want to erase for him. And that list seemed to be growing daily. It was strange for her to even have that list to begin with. He was a rare find, a rare creature indeed. Meg had let her guard down around him, she came to him when injured and even allowed herself to be medicated and fall asleep in front of him. It wasn't in her nature to trust. He should take it all as a huge compliment, because that's what it was.

Adam doesn't try to make since of that mumbling; it would probably just be more incoherent complaints. He's just getting comfortable with this, his arm draped over her side and her body right there in front of him, but then she grips his arm to pull it closer and moves back into the envelope of his shoulders and without thought or warning his muscles seize up with tension. *God* that's irritating. Adam grinds his teeth together and squints his eyes closed. He can make stuff across the room fly to pieces, he should be able to make himself relax. Slowly, bit by bit, he manages, exhaling heavily when he feels his shoulders, the last bit, finally unknot. Likely Meg's asleep by now (which actually sort of helps the relaxation), but he drops a kiss to the back of her head regardless, before fitting it comfortably under his chin.

Grumbling as she awoke, she slowly opened her eyes. "I'm a demon, I don't belong driving mini-vans. But if one more set of cleats stains my seats, I'm ripping someone's face off," Meg mumbled as she brought a hand up to rub her face. Sleeping. How weird. It wasn't something she'd done in a while. She also hadn't been injured in a while either. But the arm around her and the body behind her made her smile warmly. Ugh. If anyone could see her now, her demon badass club card would be revoked and shredded and thrown in her face. But no one was around to see, so she settled back with her head against the pillow and her body curled against his. It was too nice to leave. Lucifer himself would have to drag her from the bed to make her leave at this point.

There's someone talking, which is pretty unusual when he's asleep. He's usually alone when he's asleep. Aside from that, Adam becomes aware that there's hair in his mouth; raising a hand to brush it away, the previous words finally penetrate fully. "...the fuck are you talking about?" Oh, it's Meg, right. Well, who else? Not really on board with being fully conscious, Adam returns his hand to its former place and lets his fingers crawl between her side and the mattress, leaning towards her. Nobody gave him a demon badass club card yet, so he's just not concerned with it.

Meg could live with not being conscious. Of course all her shifting had shifted the shirt back to her previous problem but she was out of fucks to give and going back to sleep just sounded too damn good. Screw it. Soccer mom and mini-van nightmares were worth it. The feel of his hand between her and the mattress, his body spooning hers, well it had been a very long time since she'd been spooned. Wardrobe malfunctions and nightmares about the suburbs were a small price to pay. One big yawn and she was settled, sleep pulling her back under. It was the most peace she had had in. . .forever really.

Luckily, Adam isn't paying close enough attention to notice that wardrobe malfunction and get all flustered about it. When Meg fails to answer his not-very-pressing question, he fades out a little again, ducking his head to nuzzle in between the back of her head and the pillow, and absently his thumb starts stroking back and forth over her stomach. It might occur to him in a distant, fuzzy way that he's being miles more affectionate than usual; it doesn't occur to him to care, because Meg's not teasing him about it, and the constant guard of paranoia and mental issues isn't something he keeps up on purpose. Plainly his subconscious isn't awake enough to build those walls back up, yet, and he's good with that.

Meg smiled as she felt his face against the back of her head, his thumb stroking her stomach. How could she fall completely back to sleep right now? No. She had to enjoy this affection because Devil knew when she would experience it again. Another smile danced across her lips as she rested a hand over his, her fingertips tracing little circles over the back of his hand. It was adorable and comfortable, and not something she ever thought she'd experience. But she was experiencing it, and that little smile grew even wider.

The movement of that hand stills when hers comes to rest over it, but it doesn't cringe away, and after a moment it draws back just enough that he can lace his fingers between hers. No, he probably can't go back to sleep either, but he's doing his best not to wake up any more. This is much too nice. Adam's opposite arm is folded up, trapped between their forms, but he stretches his fingers out to fan over a shoulderblade. Still refusing to open his eyes, nonetheless he's remembering the words that woke him (partially) and eventually makes a groggy, interrogative noise, unburying his face just enough to speak without getting hair in his mouth again. "Were you dreaming about driving mini-vans?" That seems more than a little incongrous.

His fingers lacing with hers hitched her breath, but she didn't want to risk waking him. The feel of his other hand on her shoulderblade made her smile grow even more as she did her best not to move too much. His question made her eyebrows say 'howdy' to her hairline as she bit back a giggle. "Yeah. And soccer games and cleats and vile children," she mumbled out. "Glad to wake up and still be a demon. Any interesting dreams?" Her voice was groggy and barely more than a whisper.

"'s horrifying." Also pretty unexpected. For a moment, Adam wonders about Meg's life pre-demonhood. Did she have vile children? A mini-van? It's hard to imagine, and keeping up the brainpower to imagine further is too difficult right now. In any case, the answer to her own question is nearly as unexpected. "No." Picking up his head minutely, he runs his tongue over his dry lips. "No dreams at all, actually. Nice change." Indisputably more awake than he was previously, still the kid remains where he is; the thought of moving away, of getting up and resuming full consciousness, is too daunting, and it's not as if he has any reason to move.

Meg nodded her head slightly in agreement. "Terrifying." No dreams for him? Hmm. A change? Well that was good. "The world can burn, angels can take over, I don't care. I'm not getting out of this bed. Too comfy." There was a pout in her voice, like a child that didn't want to go to school. But this was her new happy place and she was in no hurry to leave it. If she had to pick a happy moment, this was it. Meg honestly couldn't remember much of her life before becoming a demon. Mostly, she didn't want to remember. It would do her no good to dwell in it, that time was gone. Long gone. This was her here and now. And Adam was not someone she was expecting to spend time with, much less be so vulnerable with. It was. . .nice. Wonderful, really.

Adam makes a noise of agreement, sort of forgetting what he's agreeing to. Something terrifying, apparently. The rest of the words make more sense, and Adam can agree wholeheartedly (if silently) there. If one of the Winchesters happened into the room all blithe and unprotected right now, he might not even try to disintegrate them with his brain. He definitely wouldn't try if it required even sitting up. Not allowing himself to think about it, Adam just acts, tightening the arm around her stomach to draw her back against him more securely. "No. You're not." Shifting his head to the opposite side of hers, he lowers his mouth to rest on the curve between neck and shoulder, not quite a kiss, remaining there sleepily.

His pulling her back surprised her, but his words and the feel of his mouth on her skin. A heat rose in her cheeks as she relaxed into him. Was she. . .Was it possible for her to blush? Merciful Satan, it couldn't be so. A demon blushing? That's it, badass demon club membership card revoked, shredded and tossed back in her face. In that moment, she honestly couldn't track down a fuck to give. But she would need to track down that source to get Adam his own hellhound. Would be nice since she couldn't be around all the time, his powers weren't up to snuff, and not everything after him would be affected by a throwing knife. So maybe finding him his very own hellhound was a seriously good idea after all. The more she thought about it, the more she started to wonder why she cared so much. Nope. Not going there. Pushing it away, she decided to just bask in this rare moment. And enjoy it.

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