oversight | IC CONTACT

[ At least that's a sentiment that Blake can appreciate. He might be a pseudo-foodie, but a foodie nonetheless. ]

Yeah, kinda figured as much.

[ When Blake returns, he lets out a sigh and sits down on the edge of his bed. He rubs tiredly at his eyes and figures he ought to at least make an effort here. It's not like they haven't shared bad experiences before, right? ]

When I— [ He stops, starts over, tries again. ] Usually just me when I have that dream. Feels weird. Feels... like a dream. Like I— [ Blake licks his lips. ] Like it was a dream. When it happened.

[ Crowley doesn't resist the suddenly somber mood. He doesn't mind serving as a distraction, but if Blake wants to talk about it, that's fine with him.

He comes to sit next to Blake, leaving a few inches between them. ]

Memory is funny like that.

[ A lot of Crowley's human life feels that way. At times, he wonders how much of it is even accurate and how much Hell changed his point of view on what had been real. ]

We can pretend I never saw it if you'd prefer.

[ Blake rubs a hand through his hair, massaging at his head as if it's fit to burst. He nods all the while, smiling a little at the offer. ] Doesn't work too well, actually. Tried it myself for a coupla year, but... [ Well, you know. Anger, masks, etc. ]

My dad was a good man. He didn't deserve that.

Unfortunately for good men like your father, most people don't get what they deserve.

[ And though it's fortunate for Crowley, he still has a twinge of guilt and worry for Blake, because it doesn't seem that Blake gets what he deserves, either.

He reaches for Blake's hand, meaning to still it and take its place. ]

[ Blake's understood his place for a long time, and if he were to say anything about it at all, he's say that he was ready for a life of taking what he doesn't deserve, because that's all part of serving and protecting. He doesn't do what he does because it's easy or convenient, he does it because it spares others.

That being said, it doesn't leave him a lot of wiggle room for moments like this when's regret's telling him he just didn't do enough. ]

Why is that?

[ He closes his eyes and drops his hands into his lap upon contact, and though it's unwarranted contact, Blake allows Crowley to have it. Maybe he needs it. It's not like John can deny that they all care a little differently. ]

I can't tell you, darling. I wish I understood.

[ Crowley's never felt that he's gotten what he deserves. When he's good, he gets screwed and when he's bad, he gets ahead. That's how it's always been and that's why he's always inclined to be a bastard.

With slow precision, he runs fingers through Blake's hair. ]

I think we all have to protect ourselves and the things that matter to us.

[ Because no one else will. ]

[ It's clear that Crowley's right, that few are out to care for more than their own, but he likes to believe that's not the final answer. He likes to believe that there's a chance the world could change enough that things like that would never happen again. But he's a realist and he knows it won't. Not any time soon, not in his lifetime. ]

Yeah.

[ He isn't sure what else to say beyond that. There's probably something, but he feels quiet and childlike, comforted but unsettled, somewhere between needing this time with someone and just wanting to hide away from the world.

Finally, he finds something that seems right, so he goes with that. ]

Thanks.

Any time.

[ Crowley's voice takes on a soft quality and there's sincerity there. He means it.

He doesn't put his neck out for many people, but for Blake he will, because he knows that Blake would, too. Blake is the contradiction to his worldview and sometimes that's entirely terrifying and off-putting, but times like this, it's almost a comfort tip know that he's a little wrong sometimes.

Not that he'll ever admit to that. ]

For what it's worth, you're one of the things that matters to me.

[ Blake opens one eye and glances over at Crowley, eyebrow raised. ]

Do realize how crazy that sounds comin' from you, right?

[ It's a rhetorical question, of course.

He smirks and closes his eyes again, this time to rub at them. ]

Think I need to get some sleep. Some real sleep.

[ Sleep that doesn't include dreaming. ]

Is it half as crazy as the sort of things that you say?

[ He smiles back, low and affectionate, and then drops his hand and stands up. ]

Get some sleep, sweetheart. You've had a tough go of it lately.

Mm. [ Blake nods and stands too, intent on seeing Crowley out. ] Call me when you figure out the dinner thing?

I'll let you know.

[ He wants to touch Blake. As soon as he dropped contact, his hand itched to go back, but he's doing his best to keep the uninvited contact to an acceptable level. ]

If you need anything before then, don't hesitate to ask.

[ Funny enough, it seems there is something Blake needs, but he doesn't even bother asking. In what can be considered a mixture of relief, understanding, and insanity, he pulls Crowley into a tight, but brief hug, more a sign of his genuine appreciation for the demon being there than a thank you could ever be.

So, there. If you want proof you've made some headway, Crowley, here it is. Blake might never actually say it, but give him enough time and he'll show it. ]

[ The hug takes him by surprise, but after a moment, Crowley's arms wrap around Blake. He's not exactly a seasoned hugger, but the embrace is easy enough to figure out and touching Blake has never been something that's made him feel uncomfortable, so in the end, the hug isn't as awkward as it might have been and he drops it when Blake does. ]

Don't forget to tell me if you have any food allergies.

[ Yes, okay, you're a lingerer, Crowley, he gets it. And rolls his eyes in a somewhat good-natured way. ]

Goodnight, Crowley.

[ Said pointedly as he slips back through his door and then closes it with a resolute click. ]

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