keepcruising | splish splash I was taking a bath

Blake's not exactly expecting romance, but Crowley's beckoning has him figuring on something going on. He returns to their room tired and aching, but otherwise happy. It's been so easy to slide into this role he sometimes wonders why he waited so long.

Making his way up the stairs, he smiles when he sees the demon waiting there for him. "Look what the cat dragged in," he muses about himself. "What you ordered, I take it?"

"Exactly what I ordered." Crowley smiles at him warmly and stands with a sort of easy swagger, bending down from where he's now a step above Blake to kiss him.

He hums as he pulls back. "Get undressed. You need to relax."

It really doesn't take much prompting, does it? One hand busies itself tugging at his tie while the other reaches up to grasp Crowley's neck and pull him back in for another kiss. When he spares a breath, he says, "I'm ready to relax," though it's clear that he's not quite thinking of relaxing at all. No matter. When Crowley gets his point across, Blake will surely acquiesce.

"Hmm. Not quite what I had in mind, sweetheart." He takes Blake's hand and tugs him to their bathroom with a gentle touch. The lights are dimmed and the candles flicker warmly on the water and the flower petals.

"Now finish getting your clothes off and join me, alright?" With a smirk, he pulls the tie loose on his robe.

You built this monster, Crowley. But Blake is exceptionally willing to do whatever it is the demon asks. Figuring he can always get laid later, he watches Crowley for a moment and then heads into the closet to get out of his clothes.

In the closet he fancies he can smell what Crowley's up to, but it's just a hint in the smell of candle wax and soft fragrance wafting through the room.

Towel tucked around his now-naked form, Blake pads into their bathroom and leans in the doorway.

"What's all this?"

"This is much needed relaxation for a man who works himself far too hard."

Hanging his robe on a hook, he approaches Blake and wraps his arms around Blake's waist to pull him in. There's a little smile that he can't seem to lose playing at his lips because this is how Blake makes him feel--solid and just a little lost in the best way.

"Let me take care of you."

There's an initial response that involves eye-rolling and head-shaking — Blake's never easily pliable to start — but more and more he's learned that this is just as much for Crowley as it is for him. Who would have guessed the King of Hell would be so damn domestic? ~~Or the Batman, for that matter.~~

"I don't even have a job," he reminds Crowley, because he never could leave well enough alone. "But I'll take whatever you got, sure." Just as long as it doesn't require lengthy discussion the revolves around him (surely a guilty pleasure Crowley delights in indulging in).

"Could've fooled me." He plays with the top of Blake's towel. "I have a few hours of warm water and massages."

Slowly, he frees Blake's towel, fingers skimming over Blake's skin as he removes it and tosses it on the floor by the counter. "That's what I have for you."

Se can come later--maybe some languid affair after they've finished--for now, though, Crowley wants to get Blake to that languid place where they're both like water, dripping into bed without a tense muscle in sight.

Knowing Blake, knowing his ways, it wouldn't be surprising if it took hours to get him to a liquid state. He's never been one for relaxation — even as a teenager, lazing around was more calculated than a person might imagine — so the idea of letting go is... newer than expected. Thankfully Crowley's pretty well versed in relaxation techniques.

"What's the occasion?" He's fairly sure there isn't one, but moments like these are still few and few and far between. "Or is it passé to ask?"

Following the demon's lead, he reaches his hands out to ghost across his skin and down to take his hand. Lead away.

"The occasion is that you've had a rough go and I want to do something nice for you."

With a smile, Crowley steps into the oversized tub and lowers himself into the water, leaving ample room for Blake between his legs.

"The occasion is that you, John Blake, deserve a warm bath and a nice massage."

The thing really is that Crowley just wants to make him smile, because he hasn't been doing it enough and Blake's smile is a beautiful thing. He'll blame that thought on the blood. Crowley really is turning into a sap.

John obliges, his pale flesh slipping beneath the water as he tries to remember the last time he'd shared a tub with anyone. Years, definitely. Maybe closer to a decade (counting Wonderland years). He remembers he was young and she thought baths were cute. The relationship hadn't lasted long; in retrospect, he'd been uncomfortable at the time, but too foolish to realize.

This is different. Almost instantly, the combination of hot water and close contact starts melting away the tension. The setting's artfully romantic, sure, but not uncomfortable. Crowley's always had good taste in that regard.

"This might be the first time you've used the dark arts on me," he quips, his body body relaxing back against the demon for a moment.

Crowley smiles and ducks his head to kiss Blake's shoulder and the back of his neck. "I've never used dark arts on you." His voice is gentle, chiding but clearly joking about it. "Just a little well-placed affection."

He wraps his arms around Blake, skirting his fingers over Blake's thighs until they come to settle near his knees. "You deserve it. You deserve a lot."

With a sigh, Crowley relaxes, happy to take the pressure of Blake's weight leaning against him in the water. This might be the happiest he's ever been and he knows part of that is the blood heightening everything, but part of it is Blake, so sure and solid and steady.

"You always say stuff like that, but—" He shrugs a bit and leans his head to one side of Crowley's chest, half-turned to try to look back at him (though he mostly fails). "Pretty sure deserve's got nothin' to do with it," John says, wondering if Crowley remembers the first time he'd ever said as much. At the time Crowley had argued he was worth the effort and that was well before the sex and the shared pets and the communal space.

"My job doesn't exactly collect for a pension, does it? I'm not sure I deserve much more'n an opportunity to— to do what I've been asked to do. I take more'n that 'cause I'm selfish, but—" He stammers to a stop and realizes he's holding his breath. Crowley should know by now he's just not as good at anything as he is at self-sacrifice.

Crowley doesn't roll his eyes, but it's a close call. "You're not selfish because you take care of yourself or let yourself have nice things sometimes. The amount of guilt you collect over not being a better martyr continues to impress me."

He starts to massage Blake's shoulders with firm but gentle hands. "As far as I'm concerned, no one deserves nice things more than you do and not just because I share a lot of things with you." As he massages, he finds a particularly tight not and presses his thumb into it. "You do a lot for other people. Even by your twisted logic, that should earn you something, and even if you don't think you've earned any of it, then you're just going to have to let me be selfish and give it to you."

It's a credit to how far they've come that Blake doesn't immediately balk at what Crowley has to say. He doesn't consider himself a martyr, but he knows it's a common conception. Even when he was a beat cop, the majority of the officers in his precinct felt he went well overboard with his willingness to do whatever was necessary to make things right. No, it's not a new accusation by any means, though his level of disdain over the sentiment has increase considerably over time.

"If it's—" He leans his head to straighten out the muscle Crowley's kneading and tries to come up with the right words. "Even if there's some scale — a reward based structure — it's not fair to say no one deserves nice things more'n me. That's your perspective and you know it's skewed."

This isn't exactly how anyone relaxes, and in fact, Blake seems to be winding himself up, a click-click-click of tension as that proverbial rubber band pings in protest, stretched tighter and tighter.

"I'm selfish 'cause I could be out there doin' more, but I get grumpy an' tired an' frustrated an' end up sleepin' in, stayin' in, spendin' my time fuckin' you — which I have earned — but not doin' what I'm s'posed to be doin', that's for sure." Basically, he's resigned himself to the knowledge that he's just an okay person, not a great one, and that he is willing to screw people over here and there to get a little bit of what he wants. If nothing else, Wonderland's taught him that.

"Oh, is the whole fucking me thing for you? We can pretend it's for me if you like." His hands work at Blake's muscles and there's really no level of tension that could surprise Crowley, but he wishes the man could just relax.

"You'd think you were selfish unless you weren't taking an ounce of time for yourself." Leaning forward, he brushes his nose against the back of Blake's neck. "Without taking care of yourself, you'd be no use to anyone, sweetheart. You need to take nice things as they're given so that you can do all of that shit you care about so much and still make it home in piece and you need to make it home so that you can keep doing it. You're no use to anyone dead."

After a moment he seems to deflate, but it's a bit more than that. Crowley's right, of course, and sometimes it helps to get a reminder of that. Even if death doesn't count like it used to, it's no good to thrust himself at extreme danger.

John reaches to clasp Crowley's hands, takes them from their current task and pulls them around him so he can relax back again.

"Let's switch places. You can be human again and I'll be the demon." Crowley can have the feelings and Blake will wield the power (although, he's left to wonder if that means he'd feel a pull toward the dark side, or if it wouldn't really matter.

"One of those is easier than the other, but both are technically attainable." Crowley still doesn't think he really wants to be fully human, though.

He squeezes Blake gently, letting himself relax and enjoy Blake's weight against him in the water. "But I like you the way you are. I'd move Hell and Earth to keep you just the way you are." His voice is low, but so painfully sincere that he almost surprises himself. Almost.

Blake makes a pleased noise, oddly happy to hear such things, even if they somehow convince him they're only that much more screwed for taking up with each other. But being cared for has become decidedly easier than John's ever experienced in his life and he can't even consider turning back now.

He closes his eyes and just breathes for a moment, enjoying the sound of the subtle movements of the water.

"Do you even realize what you mean to me?" he asks, and it's casual as can be. He doesn't need much more than a yes or no, and he probably won't take the time to explain himself, either.

"No." Crowley answers with humor in his voice. "I haven't the faintest clue, sweetheart, but I'm glad to be here."

It's been a year and a half since Wonderland had shown them a glimpse of their future together, two years since a rooftop dalliance when they hadn't quite been themselves and a bit over a year since Blake started to let Crowley in. He couldn't have had any idea that the road to that would feel so good. At first, he'd thought only of sex and then of personal connection, but this is something else entirely. Crowley and Blake have a life together and it's one that Crowley is quite attached to.

Crowley is so very fucked.

If Crowley's fucked, then Blake's fucked too. And he knows it. Honestly, he's felt it more and more as of late, but it's not a new concept at all. Maybe Crowley's slow to pick it up, or maybe he's just better at pretending. Either way, the two of them have found so many ways to wrap themselves up in each other, it's probably pretty hard to see where one begins and the other ends.

"Even if I'm not much of a bath person, I'm glad to be here, too." And he's got no trouble admitting that, even if it's an obvious sign of his affection.

He leans forward some and tries to glance back over his shoulder. "But I wouldn't mind switchin' places. I'm not the only one that can get tense."

Blake is too good for him. Crowley knows this, but he tries his best to make sure that Blake is good to himself, too. Sometimes, it feels like he's still waiting for Blake to come home, take a good look at Crowley and realize that he's sleeping with an irredeemable monster. Crowley wants to prolong that as much as he can.

He leans forward to kiss Blake quickly. "You're a hard man to say no to."

And then he starts to move around in the water carefully, half-standing so that they can switch.

He is damn hard to say no to, so Blake's pleased when Crowley takes his suggestion. Bathtub logistics are less than safe at the best of times, but they somehow manage to make the switch and John settles back against the tub and slots his legs around Crowley.

His fingers begin to knead, fingertips pushing into those familiar muscles. He imagines he could accused or knowing every point on the map of Crowley's skin and he wouldn't be able to deny it. Thankfully no one asks.

"Some day you'll figure it out. Then I'm really screwed," he jokes, clearly amused.

"It's a bit hard to do something when you're not trying." He relaxes back against Blake and closes his eyes. Really, why would he want to say no to Blake when Blake rarely asked for anything Crowley wasn't ready to give? They both have their boundaries and at this point, they've managed to find each others'. They may not always be on the same page, but they've learned how to get there.

"But if you want to be screwed, we can talk about that late." There a smirk in place, even as he's relaxing and letting the water and the faint scent in the room take over his senses.

"Mm, you know how I love to talk about things," he says, amusement lacing his tone. He really had gotten better about it, but for the most part they work so well because they know when to push and when to let things go. For the most part it's the most successful relationship Blake's ever had.

He pushes forward far enough to place a chain kisses down Crowley's spine as far as his neck will crane. It's terrible how much he relies on the demon. Bruce would be mortified to think of all the times John's thought about giving up everything just to ensure he stays by Crowley's side.

"Don't look now — 'cause it'd hardly matter — but I think Perdita's come by to visit." He's expecting her to disturb them at any moment, but with such devotion to Crowley, they might have a slight stay of execution here, born of her loyalty.

"Of course she has. She loves to stick her nose in things." Crowley chuckles softly, leaning back against Blake and turning his head to catch Blake's lips in a kiss. The look on his face is utterly serene. He can't remember the last time he felt this happy when he wasn't with Blake.

Perdita's paws make gentle sounds on the bathroom tile as she approaches the bathtub to snuffle at the edge and Crowley pulls away from Blake to pet her with a wet hand. As soon as the water hits her fur, she ducks her head away and steps back.

"Baths are wet. Don't look at me like that."

Blake laughs and even if he can't see Perdita, he can only imagine that they're quite a pair when they interact like this. Leaning forward, he rests his head against Crowley and slips his arms around the demon, encircling him and enjoying the proximity.

"It's about as popular with the cat," he muses quietly. They're quite a happy little family here, aren't they? Disgustingly happy in some ways and it makes John wonder if maybe it isn't all some kind of dream that's eventually going to end. But that's exactly what it is, isn't it?

"Anyway, what's next, Romeo? Champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries?"

Blake's weight is, as ever, a welcome weight and Crowley relaxes more as he watches Perdita pad back out into the hall with a smile. He really truly loves that dog, as much as he's able to love anything, he mulls. She's been nothing but faithful and she watches out for both of them as much as she can.

"Please. I know that wouldn't impress you at all." He turns his head to look back at Blake, but can't quite get a good view in this position. "I wanted you to relax, not laugh at me."

He reaches up to cover Blake's hand with his own.

"Well, I think I'm gonna do both," he muses, clearly having no qualms with that line of thinking. He's never made it easy for the demon, but Crowley's never asked for things to be easy, either. In fact, he seems to somewhat delight in the puckish behavior at times and it only serves to spur on the former cop.

He slides their fingers together and lets out a long, but content sigh. "Thank you. For thinkin' of me. Sorry I laughed at you." ~~He's not.~~

It's rate that Crowley isn't thinking of Blake these days. One might call him obsessed, but he doesn't see it as being so out of the ordinary for him. Then again, Crowley's got a history of fixating on people and things.

"You can laugh as long as you're still coming home to me." With a soft smile, he leans his forehead forward against the edge of the tub. Blake can say whatever he likes as long as he'll still be here. Crowley needs that more than anything.

splish splash I was taking a bath

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