widows_kiss | IC Contact

[ It's late when the text comes in, both in hour and in arriving. ]

All that talent and you never once mentioned your passion for interior decorating.

I have a lot of talents I've never brought up.

[ She has no idea what you're talking about, Blake. None at all. ]

[ Uh huh. Of course. She can't possibly know what he's talking about. ]

Do those talents also include taking care of wayward ex-cops that have no interest in sleep?

Edited (typo.....) 2014-10-10 13:59 (UTC)

Quite possibly. But I thought that was what your boyfriend was for.

[ Hngh. Did she really do that? Did she really call Crowley his boyfriend? Should he correct her? What would he even say? ]

It's a flexible position.

[ As if that's a much better answer. ]

[ She can practically hear him debating on the other end of that text. It just makes her laugh. ]

It's a good thing you're so flexible then.

[You're an awful person, Natasha. |: ]

It is, isn't it?

Can I come over? Are you home?

[ And yet you still love her. ]

I am and you can. Everything alright?

[ Imagine that. ]

Just need a place with a friendly face. Nothing's wrong yet.

... Fine but when you get here, you're explaining that 'yet', Mister.

I'll be over.

[ And true to his word, it's not too long later that he arrives at Natasha's room, dressed in that typical sleep attire (she ought to be used to seeing by now). Thankfully, it's late enough that he manages to avoid seeing anyone in the halls and he's able to knock quietly and without too much commotion. ]

[ She's not in her pajamas this time, although the yoga pants and sports bra she often wears for private training is probably just as familiar now. Her hair is drawn back off her face, loose tendrils curling damply at the nape of her neck and her skin flushed from a recent workout.

She's quick to answer the door however, giving Blake a friendly smile in greeting as she beckons him in. ]

Hey.

Hey.

[ He doesn't quite return the smile, but he looks considerably more relieved as he passes her and waits for the door to be closed. ]

Thanks for havin' me over. If you wanna just— [ Blake gestures vaguely. ] Don't mind makin' myself at home.

[ Which is convenient for not talking too much about why he's here. ]

You can make yourself at home anyway, although I still need to replace my couch, so there's the chairs or we can just sprawl on the bed, if you like?

[ She offers with a wave of her own hand into the room as she nudges the door shut behind her. She pushes away from it and saunters towards him, giving him a curious look. ]

Is everything alright?

Yeah— [ Blake runs a hand through his hair and takes a seat on the edge of Natasha's bad, leg tucked under him. ] For now, yeah. Sometime I—

[ He pauses, unsure how to really explain. Maybe the simplest answer. ]

Sometimes I need a safe haven, y'know? Place where no one's gonna find me. Figure you'd know what that's like.

[ And, in some way, he's banking on her realizing that means he doesn't really want anyone but her to know where he is. ]

I do.

[ She's been seeking out her own all over the manor for the past week and a half now, after all. She comes to stand in front of him, watching him carefully, curiously. She reaches out, brushing her fingers against his forehead to brush his hair off his face as she debates on whether or not she wants to press the issue with him. ]

You can hide here as long as you'd like. I'll cover for you. Is there someone you're hiding from specifically or just from the world in general? Did something happen with Crowley?

[ Since she hadn't expected to be his first choice if he were needing somewhere to hide out. ]

[ It's probably not all that hard to see right through him so he's not the least bit surprised. And he doesn't beat around the bush, either. Head dipping a bit at her touch, he closes his eyes and lets out a sigh. ]

Not— yet. Don't think so, at least. But Sam — Sam Winchester? — he came back, said some distressin' things, kinda made me wonder if maybe I haven't been askin' enough questions. Or— or the right questions.

[ He knows he has to confront Crowley eventually, but some part of him is afraid of what the demon will say. ]

Crowley's not exactly at the top of the list of popular characters where he's from.

Winchesters seem to have a habit of saying distressing things.

[ Her tone is a hint dry, but she crouches down in front of him when he lowers his head, letting her hands come to rest on his knees as she peers up at him, her expression patient and waiting. ]

No, I have picked up on that. And he warned me up front about it the very first day I met him. Although I suppose being a demon comes with a default reputation to a certain extent anyway.

[ He meets her eyes, eyebrows drawn, concern not very well-hidden at all. Thankfully, Romanoff's proven to fairly rational in her acceptance of things. ]

Not just a demon, but... corporate, high-level, King of Hell.

Dean had— he'd warned me 'bout some of it, read 'bout more of it, but— There's so much, a-and he's been good here, he has.

[ Blake's not quite sure who he's trying to convince anymore, but he wants to believe it, he desperately wants to believe that's what matters. ]

Sam told me to keep an eye on 'im. That's— it's not an insignificant request.

And you're now having a crisis of conscience over the fact that your boyfriend's done some terrible things back home.

[ Blunt, but Natasha tends to call it like she sees it. And making sure they're on the same page before proceeding is usually step number one. She doesn't dance around the topic unless it suits her purposes to be vague and at the moment she doubts that would help anyone. ]

Have you been keeping an eye on him here?

[ Blake's head comes up and her gives her a look, something a little too impatient and frustrated. That alone should say enough about how he's feeling since it's not his general approach these days. ]

Hold on—! Just slow down with all that, okay? It's not news to me, trust me. Crowley's always been upfront 'bout that sorta thing, and even if he wouldn't've been, Dean was pretty quick to be givin' out those details.

[ His head drops down into his hands and he lets out a long breath. ]

That's not what's worryin' me, not really. It's— He's done good things here, Tash. That's what bothers me, 'cause when he goes home... It's like nothin' changed. And if Sam starts holdin' him responsible for things he hasn't—

[ Blake holds up a hand. ] Forget it, forget it. This is— it's gettin' outta hand. I'll just— I'll ask him and that'll— [ Blake stands, obviously on some kind of roll with this line of thinking. ] He won't lie, so I'll just— ...ask him.

[ He's been running in circles since talking to Sam. Mostly alone, which does him no favors. ]

Blake. When we go home, nothing does change.

[ She speaks the words softly as she straightens, pushes herself to her feet when he starts to pace. She watches him with an intent stare, understanding. ]

That doesn't mean things don't change while we're here. And maybe they could, back home, if we're given the right chances. Here... all the rules get thrown out the window here. Sometimes what happens at home doesn't apply to here. We're shaped by the people we meet, the experiences we endure, the connections we make. That changes everything.

So is this about Crowley or Sam? Or you? [ Because there's a reason he's here in her room tonight and not one of those others. ]

[ There is a reason he's here but he doesn't like to think about it. He doesn't want to admit that he's avoiding his room, keeping his distance from Crowley, ignoring phone calls... For that matter, he can't stop thinking about how Christmas is just around the corner and he'll never forget all the memories that brings with it. ]

It's— i-it's gotta be me, right? Just lettin' this — all of this — eat away at me for what?

[ He stops, his hands in his hair, eyes sliding closed while he takes a long, deep breath. ]

Not ready. To know somethin' or- or ask somethin' of him. Of Crowley. That's me. That's why I'm here. Safe Haven. Some place I don't gotta think to hard, where there aren't— aren't a lotta reminders of anything but— but good.

[ And then, maybe a tad telling, he can't help but biting out a few more words. ]

I trust him. If that was a mistake— Christ... Wouldn't be the first time, but dammit.

[ Natasha watches him pace, watches him doubt himself and Crowley and god knows what else and after a moment she gets up and comes to a stop in front of him, reaching out to drag his hands out of his hair, her fingers wrapping around his in a warm grip as she looks up and holds his gaze with a serious expression, giving him something to focus on that isn't his own spiraling thoughts. ]

Stop that. You're only going to drive yourself mad thinking like that and it doesn't help.

Forget about what anyone's said, for the moment. All of it. Everything you've heard. Tell me about Crowley instead. You have good instincts, Blake. Not perfect, but no one's is, not even mine. You trust him. Has he ever said or done anything to you that would make you suspect that trust is misplaced?

No, he's— [ Blake huffs. ] Well, yes, but those were— there's details there that make— The circumstances weren't—

[ Ugh. John doesn't know how he managed to get so wrapped up and turned around, but it's obvious that it's taking a toll. Thank god for Natasha, who he finds himself trusting almost implicitly after all they've shared. ]

He kidnapped me. Put a brain-suckin' slug on my head. Mercilessly courted me for months and it— Some of it wasn't right, pretty sure 'bout that, but I think— I know he was tryin' to do the right thing. By me, at least. And for me.

[ Which probably drives Blake the craziest of all, as he'd much rather Crowley care about everyone else more than he cares about Blake himself, but the odds of that are pretty slim at this point. ]

'm not crazy... He does care. [ That last part's practically a whisper. ]

IC Contact

text;

Re: text;

text;

Re: text;

text;

Re: text;

text;

Re: text;

text;

Re: text;

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)