Crowley (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
goesdown) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
keepcruising2015-05-03 01:57 pm
goesdown) wrote in keepcruising2015-05-03 01:57 pm
Entry tags:
A birthday story for one of the most wonderful people in the world
Blake's having a strange day. That's really all he can say. Mostly, it's been little things--lost items popping up, things he hasn't even thought to ask the closets for are just waiting for him around every corner, and then there'd been the bow.
By the time he catches up to Crowley, it's after noon. Blake's spent the morning working out, checking his usual haunts and daily errands and wondering what sort of event this is that no one's bothered to even warn them about it. Then again, this place plays fast and loose with their memories, so maybe someone had and he just doesn't remember.
Crowley, on the other hand, hadn't been in any of the usual places that Blake had checked. In fact, he'd about given up on finding the demon and headed back to their shared room.
Their room is... different. At first, he can't figure out why and then he realizes that Crowley's actually neatened his mountain of books and he's not exactly sure what a wet hellhound smells like, but he's pretty sure he's smelling it now.
"You wanna tell me why the crocodile's wearin' a bow?"
Crowley smiles up from the table he's setting. "You're shit with dates, sweetheart."
Blake has a suitably sassy answer, but it's cut off by a floating bow jumping at him and--yup--Perdita's damp and cold and she's got her great, big invisible paws on Blake's hip so that she can lick his face. "You trained her to do that." He tries to sound annoyed, but fails to hit his mark.
"Took all morning." Crowley grins and steps away from the table to move closer. "The rest was easy."
"What day is it, anyway?" Blake pets her and pushes her down gently. It's hard to stay mad at her, even when she ruins his things here and there. "Mean if I'm so shit with dates..."
"Ah." Wrapping an arm around Blake's waist, Crowley pulls him closer with a chuckle and kisses his temple. "Two years ago, you made a terrible joke about tomatoes. I've never forgiven you."
Blake thinks back to what he guesses counts as their first date--a dinner agreed upon when they'd both been cowboys in a dream. Wonderland does strange things to perception, doesn't it? Half their landmarks are paved by strange events and missing memories--oral sex on a rooftop that neither of them count, a shoulder to lean on in a mine, a kiss surrounded by zombies, a cruel deal and a crueler fight--but it had all lead them here.
Somehow, along the way Crowley had come to hold Blake's heart in his hand, but it's okay. Blake trusts him with it. That's his foolish decision to make, isn't it?
"You love my jokes." With a smile, Blake leans in to kiss Crowley.
Crowley hesitates and actually manages to not say that he prefers Blake's mouth doing other things. Small miracles. "Maybe."
Even after all this time, neither of them are equipped to talk about their feelings in any real, tangible way, but they've gotten closer. Three years of friends and two years of something else entirely have changed them, but Crowley's always been one to talk in innuendo and Blake's a man of few words. Somehow, they've learned to say things without saying anything at all. There are no held back professions of love, but what they have is what they both need;
A partnership and a menagerie of strange animals.
By the time he catches up to Crowley, it's after noon. Blake's spent the morning working out, checking his usual haunts and daily errands and wondering what sort of event this is that no one's bothered to even warn them about it. Then again, this place plays fast and loose with their memories, so maybe someone had and he just doesn't remember.
Crowley, on the other hand, hadn't been in any of the usual places that Blake had checked. In fact, he'd about given up on finding the demon and headed back to their shared room.
Their room is... different. At first, he can't figure out why and then he realizes that Crowley's actually neatened his mountain of books and he's not exactly sure what a wet hellhound smells like, but he's pretty sure he's smelling it now.
"You wanna tell me why the crocodile's wearin' a bow?"
Crowley smiles up from the table he's setting. "You're shit with dates, sweetheart."
Blake has a suitably sassy answer, but it's cut off by a floating bow jumping at him and--yup--Perdita's damp and cold and she's got her great, big invisible paws on Blake's hip so that she can lick his face. "You trained her to do that." He tries to sound annoyed, but fails to hit his mark.
"Took all morning." Crowley grins and steps away from the table to move closer. "The rest was easy."
"What day is it, anyway?" Blake pets her and pushes her down gently. It's hard to stay mad at her, even when she ruins his things here and there. "Mean if I'm so shit with dates..."
"Ah." Wrapping an arm around Blake's waist, Crowley pulls him closer with a chuckle and kisses his temple. "Two years ago, you made a terrible joke about tomatoes. I've never forgiven you."
Blake thinks back to what he guesses counts as their first date--a dinner agreed upon when they'd both been cowboys in a dream. Wonderland does strange things to perception, doesn't it? Half their landmarks are paved by strange events and missing memories--oral sex on a rooftop that neither of them count, a shoulder to lean on in a mine, a kiss surrounded by zombies, a cruel deal and a crueler fight--but it had all lead them here.
Somehow, along the way Crowley had come to hold Blake's heart in his hand, but it's okay. Blake trusts him with it. That's his foolish decision to make, isn't it?
"You love my jokes." With a smile, Blake leans in to kiss Crowley.
Crowley hesitates and actually manages to not say that he prefers Blake's mouth doing other things. Small miracles. "Maybe."
Even after all this time, neither of them are equipped to talk about their feelings in any real, tangible way, but they've gotten closer. Three years of friends and two years of something else entirely have changed them, but Crowley's always been one to talk in innuendo and Blake's a man of few words. Somehow, they've learned to say things without saying anything at all. There are no held back professions of love, but what they have is what they both need;
A partnership and a menagerie of strange animals.