[ See, this is where things traditionally go wrong. In the prison, Blake had pulled away and it had turned things between them bitter for at least a little while. Of course, it wasn't John, it was Crowley that was throwing the fit, but considering the lengths the guy seems to be going, it seems only right to not make that same mistake twice.
Instead of pulling away, instead of jerking from his too-intimate touch, Blake merely shoots they guy a warning look. Come on, man, you've got brakes, learn how to use them.
And then he's right back to staring off into space, opened bottle of water in one hand, cap in the other. ]
[ At that look, he lets his hand drop, severing contact. It feels cold and isolating, but he knows that he needs to get better at this whole listening thing. Blake is worth it, even if he's not likely to bother listening to anyone else. ]
I don't think I've ever seen you have more than one drink. It sounds like you were trying to keep up with someone who drinks a fair amount more than you usually do. You've got to know your limits.
[ Says the man who's looking for a fix much more powerful than alcohol. ]
What? [ It's kind of exasperated. ] C'mon, what is that? Don't—
[ Siiiiiiiigh. He is just too fucking tired and achy and grumpy to keep up appearances. In fact, he's feeling particularly like some cymbal-crashing monkey is cymbal-crashing on his head, and that also means he's feeling intensely candid. ]
Just shrug it off, Crowley. Don't take it personal.
[ Crowley lets himself look at Blake again. He schools his face, but he's not sure if he manages it in time. He makes a mental note not to let himself near Blake so soon after he's medicated himself. It's too much.
It doesn't escape his notice that Blake just stopped him from leaving or that he's actually making an effort to... Crowley doesn't know how to really process it. ]
[ Blake stares for another moment, then reaches out and grabs the remote control off the awkward TV stand that appeared at some point in his bedroom. It had been Dean's doing, and after they'd spent more than a few nights together marathoning movies, John guessed it wouldn't hurt to finally accept a television in his room.
He offers out the remote and nods his (aching) head in the direction of the TV. ] Find us somethin' to watch.
[ Which is to say, he's not being kicked out. Anyway, Blake's likely to fall asleep staring blankly at the television, so it doesn't really matter all that much, as long as he doesn't wake up as Crowley's little spoon. ]
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Instead of pulling away, instead of jerking from his too-intimate touch, Blake merely shoots they guy a warning look. Come on, man, you've got brakes, learn how to use them.
And then he's right back to staring off into space, opened bottle of water in one hand, cap in the other. ]
Drank so much. [ He shakes his head. ] So much.
action;
I don't think I've ever seen you have more than one drink. It sounds like you were trying to keep up with someone who drinks a fair amount more than you usually do. You've got to know your limits.
[ Says the man who's looking for a fix much more powerful than alcohol. ]
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[ Despite the splitting headache, that makes Blake laugh. ]
Unbelievable.
[ It seems to Blake that if anyone knows something about his limits, it's going to be Blake himself. ]
Wasn't a competition. I was drinkin' to get drunk. To go over the limit.
action;
Sorry. I'm sorry.
[ The apology spills out without thinking and he hates himself for just how much he's shrinking back from an ordinary human right now. ]
Maybe I should go.
[ His eyes are on the door now, because it's easier than looking at Blake. ]
Take care of yourself, darling.
action;
[ Siiiiiiiigh. He is just too fucking tired and achy and grumpy to keep up appearances. In fact, he's feeling particularly like some cymbal-crashing monkey is cymbal-crashing on his head, and that also means he's feeling intensely candid. ]
Just shrug it off, Crowley. Don't take it personal.
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It doesn't escape his notice that Blake just stopped him from leaving or that he's actually making an effort to... Crowley doesn't know how to really process it. ]
Alright, I won't.
[ He lets himself smile just a little. ]
Is there anything else I can do to help?
action;
He offers out the remote and nods his (aching) head in the direction of the TV. ] Find us somethin' to watch.
[ Which is to say, he's not being kicked out. Anyway, Blake's likely to fall asleep staring blankly at the television, so it doesn't really matter all that much, as long as he doesn't wake up as Crowley's little spoon. ]