hippie_ninja | IC INBOX

He exhales and his breath is shaky. His head bows slightly and he focuses on the fire resting on his skin, warm and welcome.

"Can you stay tonight?" It feels like such a big ask.

Smile still just barely there, he nods slowly, letting the pad of his thumb brush over the back of Jesus' hand, fire still warm and almost protective in how it's wrapped around him. "Yeah," a tilt of his head. "Only if you're not sick of me yet."

He leans forward and kisses him, and then keeps kissing him. "Mmno. Not yet."

He returns each and every one of those kisses he's given with just as much warmth as the fire wrapped around their wrists and hands. Nosing at Jesus then, he brings one of his hands up and cradles the side of the man's face, thumb stroking across a cheek as he looks to him from his still crouched spot. "Let me take care of you," he murmurs. "You're always taking care of others. I think people forget you need it just as much as anyone else does."

It's been years--more than twelve, more years than the apocalypse--since anyone has offered that, and he isn't sure he knows how to let that happen anymore but he nods, looking at John, turns his head and kisses John's wrist. Okay.

John's not entirely sure how to do it himself, but. It doesn't mean he won't try. Smile there faint on his lips, he nods again himself, then raises his brows. "That doesn't mean I'm gonna be wearing some sexy nurse outfit while I do," a beat. "Unless you want me to. But even then. Maybe you'll get that for Christmas if you're good."

"I could live with that as a sight," he teases, pulling John closer, wanting him on his lap. "What do you want for Christmas?"

At the pull, he follows and he settles there on the man's lap as silently wanted. When the question is asked, he simply shakes his head. "Nothing anyone can give me and it's probably for the best anyways." That they're gone. No longer here. "What do you want?"

"I'm bad at wanting things." He gets things for himself if he wants them. "Wouldn't turn down you in a Santa hat, though."

Tilt of his head, he gives a quizzical expression. "Now... is that just in a Santa hat or?" Very important information, of course.

His smile turns sly. "Dealer's choice. I like stripping you down but...if I came home and you were just there, on my bed or my couch, wearing just the hat..."

"Might have to leave a window cracked so I can crawl in then." He laughs a little, tilting his head the other way. "Don't really wanna burn the door down to get in."

"I could leave you some lock picks," he grins. "You've used those before, right?"

"No," he murmurs that against Jesus' lips, smiling as he does. "I usually just burn my way into where I wanna go."

"I can teach you. It can be like your key to my place," he murmurs, and kisses him soundly.

Unable to help himself, he laughs there against those lips, muffled as it is what with the kiss and all. "Yeah?" Mumbled a little, he brings both hands up and holds Jesus' face there, softly nipping at his bottom lip. "That's real sweet of you, baby."

"Yeah?" There's an urge in him to share everything he has with his people, with those he feels close to, and this satisfies that. "Maybe I just like the idea of making you a thief like me."

"Trying to be a bad influence on me, huh?" Another nip to that bottom lip, he pulls back a little to look to Jesus better, hands slipping down to hold each side of his neck instead. "What's one thing you wanna do before the year's over here?"

"I haven't thought about it. Maybe more time to draw. To plan the farm." His hands are around John's waist. "What about you? Give me ideas."

"I don't know," it's soft and honest, a slight shift there on the other man's lap as those arms go around his waist. "I feel like there's been more bad than good this year. So... maybe to have it end on a good note. Might be nice."

"Tell me what feels good to you, then." As he starts kissing John's neck.

Eyes falling shut, he smiles softly. "That feels pretty good." That pleased little hum there on his lips, he tilts his head better for Jesus, thumbs stroking over the other man's neck that he still holds to there on his lap. "You should do your farm," he says then, soft. "And draw more. Even if it's just for yourself."

"I will." On both counts; the farm is arranged with other people. The drawing he enjoys, but there is a large part of it that's tied up in John. His lips trail off of John's collarbone and he looks up at him. "Will you keep writing?"

Pulling back to look to him, hands still there on his neck, he lets himself lick over his lips. "If the mood strikes me, yeah." A shrug. "Can't really force it, you know?"

"As long as you keep trying." That's the thing people fail at; that's where they give up. It doesn't even matter if Jesus ever sees what he writes.

"C'mon. I'll show you how to pick my lock."

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