[ A quiet afternoon in their shared room. Blake leans heavily on the arm of the couch, flipping idly at the page of some paperback. Stretched along the couch, casual as he pleases, the demon, Crowley, lays with his head on Blake's lap. In his hand, a glass of alcohol is cradled against his chest.
They're silent, mostly unmoving, and completely comfortable with the proximity between them. It's been like this so long, the feelings have become so very common, the space so easily shared, that it's late when John realizes the significance. ]
This is it. [ He closes his book around his finger and looks down at Crowley, soft as can be. ] This is the moment. You remember? Wonderland showed us this...
[ The details are a little different — this is their room and not the library — but for once, Wonderland has done something right, he thinks. ]
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They're silent, mostly unmoving, and completely comfortable with the proximity between them. It's been like this so long, the feelings have become so very common, the space so easily shared, that it's late when John realizes the significance. ]
This is it. [ He closes his book around his finger and looks down at Crowley, soft as can be. ] This is the moment. You remember? Wonderland showed us this...
[ The details are a little different — this is their room and not the library — but for once, Wonderland has done something right, he thinks. ]