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Date: March 25, 2001
Setting: John's Bedroom
Status: Private- Crowley, John, Kit
Summary: Crowley has a nightmare

Hands.

Large and bloodied.

Gripping, tearing.

Claws.

Sharp and sinister.

Shredding, slicing.

Pain.

Crowley awoke in a cold sweat, his hair plastered to his forehead, breathing heavily. Pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes, he tried to push the images - memories - out. He wasn't going to get much sleep tonight.

With a groan, the demon rolled out of bed, throwing on his trousers and a white collared shirt, but not bothering to tuck it in or even button it all the way. Hair tousled, eyes uncovered, and feet bare, he padded through the bathroom toward the only person who could help right now. He pushed open the door.

"John?"

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The demon turned away to hide his own yawn as it tended to be anatomically impossible to open one's mouth that wide and humans found it disconcerting. But then he settled in on John's other side, pleased to not be in the stifling middle position, yet still next to the person he cared for more.

Thinking back over the last year or so when John was antsy even sitting on the same bed (http://community.livejournal.com/neutral_omens/47793.html), to their awkward hug in the hospital wing (http://community.livejournal.com/neutral_omens/75553.html) some months later, their sleepy closeness after his breakup with Aziraphale (http://community.livejournal.com/neutral_omens/112017.html), and the kiss on Christmas Eve (http://community.livejournal.com/neutral_omens/120803.html), Crowley probably should have figured this time would come. Once you've shared life or death experiences, rescued and been rescued, utterly lost each other, and literally been inside each other's heads, a little physical closeness was no longer a big deal.

He waited a few minutes until he was certain Kit was asleep, then blinked his eyes back to their natural state. Wondering vaguely if John had a preference between the gold and the silver, he nudged the man lightly.

"Hey," whispered Crowley. "All right?"

"Mmm-hmm," came the drowsy response. John was extremely comfortable and sorely tempted to let himself doze off as well, but he'd managed to keep his eyes open--well, halfway, anyway--and was actually a bit relieved to see that Crowley had dropped the disturbingly "normal" gray facade. Apart from the predictable strangeness of seeing the wrong eyes in a familiar face, they made the demon seem so thoroughly, unremarkably human that John knew he could very quickly lose what little awareness he still had of Crowley's alien nature. (Besides which, he remembered from the big Halloween party that having one's eyes fucked with that way (http://community.livejournal.com/madprophets/47153.html) got uncomfortable after a while.)

"Ask me again inna minute, when I stop carefully not realizing what we just didn't do," he whispered back. Like telling Kit exactly who they'd just taken to bed. That was going to come back and bite him in the arse, no question about it. It didn't make a lick of difference to him anymore, but he feared she was liable to see things very differently. Part of him had recognized that right along and chosen to ignore it. He decided that he wouldn't have acted differently even if he'd had more time to think it through--some experiences and outcomes were worth taking serious risks--but there was no sense trying to gloss over the fact that this whole encounter was going to complicate things immensely. "I ever mention I've got a real knack for painting myself into corners?"

Crowley snorted. "That'll happen when you ignore the bad shit for too long." Pot, kettle, hello.

But the demon could read the concern in John's eyes and he knew, better than anyone - possibly even better than John since he'd seen it objectively - how much the man cared for the beautiful woman in his arms. He'd truly never wanted to interfere with that. Crowley wanted John to have his second chance and had been pretty successful at suppressing the minor twinges of jealousy he'd felt here and there when John was otherwise engaged of an evening. Still, this was a new situation.

He knew why John had done it, the bastard, but it was even more galling to find that he'd been right and it had, for the most part, worked. But it was still so bizarre to know that someone knew him that well; could not only read what he needed beyond his projected air but would then deliver it with no thought of consequence to himself. It gave the demon a tightening in his abdomen that had nothing to do with sex - something he was going to have to worry about later - and everything to do with real friendship.

"Sshe's going to find out eventually," he murmured. "I can pass very well, and you know it, but there are people here who don't think about what they say and I can't control that. It could get very nasty. The only thing I can do is make her forget. You, too, if you wanted that. But I won't do it without permission. I'm not... you know..." Crowley trailed off, unwilling to say that he wasn't a fiend and bring up all that pain.

"I know." John sighed and stared moodily at the ceiling, considering. Every fiber of his being recoiled at the idea of having his own memories screwed around with, even by Crowley. Once was more than enough for one lifetime. But wiping Kit's memory would simplify things, at least temporarily...

Ahh, but there it was: he couldn't lie to Kit. Particularly when he really didn't want to. Maybe if it was some small, unimportant thing, but not something like this--she'd been so generous, understood his intent so well and followed his lead without question, and it would be grossly unfair to try to deny it had happened. Sooner or later he'd slip up and say something he shouldn't, or she'd sense he was keeping something from her and call him out on it, and then if she hadn't already found out the truth about Crowley she would still demand to know why and how they had 'arranged' for her to forget. And be rightfully furious with them both, either way. No, there wasn't going to be an easy way out of this one.

Anyway, he'd vowed not to make the same mistake this time as before, keeping the part of his life with Kit in it walled off from the rest. She should have been told the truth long before now--it was a bit of a mystery how nobody had tipped her off already, in fact. Adam's doing, maybe. But it was going to have to end, and sooner than later.

"Nah," he said finally. "Reckon I'm gonna have to do this the hard way. But thanks, though. Just...is it okay if I tell her? I mean, if I see a good time for it...if there is any such thing." He didn't ask if Crowley wanted to do it himself; if he volunteered, fine, but John wasn't going to try to dump that responsibility on his friend.

Maybe they'd get lucky, and when the truth came out, however it happened, tonight would wind up actually making things easier. Kit had surprised him before. But he wouldn't hold his breath.

That was really what the demon had expected John to say, but it was best to have it confirmed. Crowley shrugged his bare shoulders against the sheets, feeling old. "If you'd like," he said quietly. "Though you sshould probably wait until I'm around. That way the ire is lesss concentrated." His lips quirked wryly.

If the hissing was any indication, Crowley was getting very sleepy. "Sso, we'll worry about it later, then..." That was all he really wanted to know. With his question answered, the demon hesitated a moment, then put his arm across John's chest, snuggling relatively close. "Night, mate."

John shifted a little and got settled comfortably, one bedmate tucked close and safe in the curve of either arm. "Yeah, later. Night," he whispered, and fell asleep soaking up the sense of tranquil stillness that settled over the room like a comforting blanket.

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