#This is kinda crack-ish but also I love Harriet and you can pry her from my cold dead hands

[michaelmilligan]

The House Mouse

(I know it's been like three hundred years, but I haven't forgotten this post @klayr-de-gall @paradisecas)

It was a lazy evening, spent on the couch watching Netflix.

Michael had offered to take them to Jupiter instead, but they'd only just been there a few days ago, and besides, lazy was good sometimes. It was great to go sightseeing, on this planet or another. But they'd built themselves this house for a reason, and at times Adam just wanted to make use of it.

Adam's feet were on the coffee table and his arm was over the back of the couch, almost touching Michael's projection next to him.

“Maybe we should get a cat,” he said, watching the cats on screen purring as they got pet.

The eyes of Michael's projection darted towards Adam, then back at the TV. “They seem to be very difficult to train,” he cautioned.

“Yeah, but we wouldn't have to train the cat. Just get it to like us.” A corner of Adam's mouth quirked upwards as he angled his head towards Michael. “I have some experience at being patient with a dangerous creature.”

Unimpressed, Michael only slightly raised an eyebrow. “Are you comparing me to a cat?”

“Well.” Adam stretched his arms, then sank a little further against the back of the couch. “You are pretty dangerous and most people probably wouldn't understand your body language.”

Michael huffed. “My body language?”

“Yeah. Like how you flare your wings when you're angry? Or how your grace pulses when you're happy. Or-”

“I see,” Michael interrupted him, frowning.

“Or how your projection frowns when you're embarrassed,” Adam finished, grinning.

Michael gave him a playful glare. “Do you want me to list your ticks in body language now?”

“Oh, geez, no. I would probably die of embarrassment or something!”

Michael huffed out a laugh. Well, it was more a huff than a laugh, but as just proven, Adam knew how to read him.

“So. Cat?” Adam asked again, not because he had any urgent need to get a pet – it was just a spontaneous idea – but to see how Michael would react.

To his surprise, Michael actually seemed thoughtful.

“Harriet might not like it,” he finally said, and... what?

“Who?” Adam asked, confused.

“Harriet,” Michael repeated, projection swivelling towards him. He frowned. “You know, the mouse? You saw her yesterday.”

Adam opened his mouth, but no sound came out, so he closed it again. After taking a moment to compose himself, he tried again. “The mouse?? That thing that scared me to death yesterday?!”

Michael sighed. “You're being overly dramatic.”

“Overly- that thing just shot out from underneath the drawers and-”

“That's not true,” Michael interrupted him. “Her refuge is behind the drawer, not underneath it. There's a hole in the wall and-”

“Oh, there's a hole in my fucking bedroom wall! Great!”

“Adam, you've survived Hell. I'm sure you can deal with a mouse,” Michael chastised him. “And Harriet is very friendly. Once you get to know her-”

“Know her? That's a mouse, Michael. Why did you even name it?” Adam asked, exasperated.

“I didn't. That's just her name – or an approximation of it in human language, anyway.”

“Wh- approximation? What does that even- wait, you speak mouse??”

“I can understand and communicate with most animals on this planet,” Michael said, seeming a bit offended. Then he suddenly turned thoughtful again. “It works better with creatures whose shape is closer to my true form, like deep sea squids, though that can also lead to misunderstandings...”

“Oh, good. My archangel's a freaking Disney Princess.” Adam groaned and leaned back into the couch again, this time in a decidedly less relaxed slump.

“Don't be ridiculous, Adam,” Michael said, and a corner of his mouth twitched upwards. “I don't even own a pan. Or magic hair, for that matter.”

“You're a menace,” Adam muttered from underneath the arm he'd slung over his face.

“To society? Occasionally.” Michael shifted on the couch, until he was looking down at Adam, who turned his gaze from the ceiling to him. “So are you going to be nice to Harriet or not?”

“Christ on a cracker. You're really friends with a mouse.”

“Well, you're the one who keeps talking abut expanding our circles and what not.” Michael frowned down at him.

“Yeah, I was thinking more of, like, people. But knock yourself out, I guess.” Adam sighed. “So are you gonna introduce me to your new bestie?”

“Don't be ridiculous, Adam. You're still my best friend. And Harriet is just a mouse. Most of her conversation topics revolve around food, and where to find it.” Michael weighed his head thoughtfully. “Then again, your interests are not that different...”

Adam kicked him, which only worked because Michael let him. “Don't you dare compare me to a mouse.”

“Well. Comparatively...”

“Yeah yeah, comparatively I'm a bug.” Adam rolled his eyes.

“Yes. In many ways, humans are like cockroaches.”

“... Go on and you're sleeping on the couch tonight.”

“I don't sleep.” Michael raised an eyebrow at him. “And may I remind you that we share a body, so essentially you would be sleeping on the couch.”

“Ugh.” Adam grabbed a cushion from the end of the couch to throw it at Michael, but it sailed right through his projection.

Michael grinned smugly.

Adam's life continued much the same as it had before, except that now he sometimes saw evidence of a mouse in the house. The tap-tap of itsy bitsy feet on hardwood floors. A bag of chips with a hole in it and half the contents gone. And, worst of all, the droppings of a mouse, though Michael eventually agreed to remove those as they happened.

After a while, Adam got in the habit of leaving food out for the mouse when they left the house. Sometimes, they got back to find Harriet sitting on the plate, sniffing curiously in their direction.

Adam never actually saw Michael talk to her, though sometimes he nodded sagely when Harriet squeaked. To be honest, Adam was half convinced Michael was making that whole 'speaking mouse language' thing up to troll him.

But then one morning, he caught them in conversation.

“We need to be quiet so we don't wake Adam up,” Michael was saying as Adam opened his eyes.

Usually, Michael would immediately notice that Adam was awake. But sometimes, when he focused very hard on his projection to make it corporeal, it could take Michael a while to realize whatever was going on with their real body.

That seemed to be happening now, since Adam heard sizzling like from a pan, indicating that Michael was interacting with something.

Namely, kitchenware.

“Hm? Oh, no, Adam prefers chocolate chip. It's not very good for him in the long run, but he always makes this face when I suggest to use banana instead, you know,” Michael continued conversationally.

Adam knew exactly what face he meant. And of course he knew that banana was healthier than chocolate, at the end of the day. Did that really matter, though, when he had a trusty archangel who kept him from getting ill, or old?

Adam could have interrupted Michael and Harriet, but he was kind of curious where else this conversation (if it was one, since he only heard Michael) would go.

“Oh, yeah. You can have a bit of banana, hold on,” Michael rambled on. “You know, I've been thinking. You're allowed to stay here, so you're the house mouse. And me, well... Adam says that housewife is the most common term for this, but that fits about as much as house husband. I prefer house spouse, myself.”

Adam snorted. They'd had this conversation before, Michael insisting he was the stay-at-home-partner because he didn't work. As if they weren't always together, including when Adam was at his job.

It was true that Michael didn't work, always keeping in the background during those hours. Then again, he was the reason why Adam never got tired, or hungry, so in a way he contributed to their income.

“Adam?” Michael suddenly asked, obviously having heard his snort.

Sighing, Adam stepped into the kitchen, to find Michael making pancakes with Harriet by his side.

“Morning. You guys having fun?”

“Neither of us is a 'guy', strictly speaking. But yes.” Michael nodded.

Harriet squeaked in what might have been approval.

“So you're the house spouse and the house mouse, huh?” Adam asked, walking towards the breakfast island, where Michael served him the pancakes. “Thanks, honey.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Don't call me that. I'm not sweet.”

“Aw, but you are. You made me pancakes.” Adam took a bite, and felt like kissing Michael – once he'd finished his food. “This is awesome.”

Michael nodded. “As it should be, coming from a house spouse.”

“Babe... you don't even need a house. I mean, in a way, I'm your house, since you live inside me.” Adam just thought it was weird. Not necessarily the term itself, which was fine, but for Michael to call himself that.

“You're more than a house, Adam. You're... my temple.”

“Oh my God. We're not doing that clean eating bullshit,” Adam said firmly, fearing the worst.

But Michael just laughed. “I was thinking more along the lines of 'I should have worshipped you sooner'.”

“Oh.” Adam grinned. “Well, I am the giggle at a funeral. Possibly even at my own.”

Michael snorted. “I'd really rather you not die again. Granted, for someone related to Sam and Dean, two times isn't really a lot, but...” He shrugged.

“Yeah, no. Three is not the charm in that case.” As he continued to eat, Adam's eyes fell on Harriet, who was busy with a piece of banana. “So if she's a house mouse... does that mean this is a mouse house?”

“Now you're just being ridiculous,” Michael said as he miracled the pan clean. “But since you're so small compared to me, that makes you the mouse spouse.”

Adam rolled his eyes, trying and failing to suppress a smile.

#Me finally getting this done? It's more likely than you think. #This is kinda crack-ish but also I love Harriet and you can pry her from my cold dead hands #Fluffy fluff fluff #Midam #House spouse Michael my beloved #And mouse spouse Adam my utmost beloved