bakerstreet | is it hot in here or is the floor LAVA

is it hot in here or is the floor LAVA

Just share the damn bed with me.

For whatever reason, the floor is an unacceptable place to sleep. It's messy, the dog is there, THE FLOOR IS LAVA, there's flooding, feels weird, or it's too dirty to walk on. Who cares why it's not acceptable, it just isn't! Normally, that's not an issue, but tonight you have a friend over. Maybe it's the safest place, maybe it's hurricane season and your house is the only one out of the path of the storm. Are they mooching off you? Stop trying to figure out the details! Just get over it and share the bed with that person! Sexy times are not required. Intimacy is not required. Just share the damn bed already.

Do you need options? DO YOU? Here! Have some options!

1. It's late. You're tired. Too tired to drive and THE FLOOR IS LAVA.
2. It's late. You're drunk. Too drunk. Honestly, how did you drink that much and not die? Should we take you to the hospital? Here, just stay in this bed with me. No, you can't sleep on the floor. THE FLOOR IS LAVA.
3. It's early. You thought you'd just come by and visit but you can barely function. The bed seems inviting. Guess what, you're invited into the bed! Yes. The bed. Not the floor. THE FLOOR IS LAVA.
4. DO YOU LIKE TO CUDDLE? CUDDLING IS OKAY. And yes, the floor is lava.
5. WILDCARD. Just figure out a reason why you need to share the bed. But don't forget: the floor is lava!
6. The Crack Fun Insane Option - Actually play the Floor is Lava Game!! Move about the room without touching the floor... because the floor is seriously lava.

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[Ocelot grunts when the finger is pulled out. Yes, some lube would make it more enjoyable for them both. His left hand squeezed Snake's shoulder as he was stroked.]

Mmf. Think there's something we can use in my pack.

[Not that he was planning on getting lucky with John or anything, but lubricant was good for gun parts.]

[That serious tone was enough to make Makoto peek out from behind his hands, a bit hopeful that the conversation was going to a tamer place. One that he could handle a bit better.]

Thank you, Kisumi. It's nice to hear.

[He gave a small laugh at the head pat, hands dropping back down under the blanket.]

I'll keep it in mind.

[He gave a small yawn, burrowing slightly into his pillow.]

But isn't it too early to even talk about these kind of things? How can you have so much energy before breakfast?

[That was a really good question, indeed—Kisumi was rather the type who slept in, not woke up at sunrise. But how could he not be energetic when he was not only in Makoto's room, but in his bed?]

Oh, we don't have to talk about these kind of things. We can move on to the doing part...

[With that said, he scooted closer, smiling softly.]

[Good choice, Neji.]

Of course, Neji! [More loud whispers.] I would wait until the end of my days for you if I had to!

[And he nods along as Neji raises that point.]

That is very interesting to hear! I will be very honored to spend the night at such a prestigious place, Neji! [And so he eagerly comes into the room as it is unlocked!]

[I see we're throwing shade.

Stupid Lee, he's not that slow. Because why ever read that as a wonderfully touching sentiment among friends.] When I said to keep your voice down, I didn't mean you had to talk like that. [But telling Lee not to whisper might prompt the opposite of a whisper which would be... Please no.] Just don't scream and we should be fine.

[By 'we' he means 'you' but. Semantics. Which is what makes Neji snort softly as he stepped aside and closed the door behind him. 'Prestigious'. It was true- not many people in the village had ever even entered the gates of the compound, much less been sneaked so far inside. But his room, to him, didn't feel quite so illustrious. There's mostly-full bookshelves, sitting cushions, and just enough furniture to get by-- meaning, a clothes drawer. There's a table there somewhere. With a lamp. And a bed. Bored yet? There's a dumb little team photo among one of the bookshelves and a lone kunai knife over the drawer. Excuse the mess.]

Catch.

[Coming back from a side room -oh right, there's a bathroom- Neji tosses a clean towel Lee's way. He won't have his room reeking.] I thought this would be easier than having to cross the courtyard again, when arrangements are being put in place and people will be coming and going. [Ah-] You'll be sleeping on my bed. ...but cool down a little, first.

[That only got another groan out of Makoto, half embarrassed and half incredulous, putting a hand on Kisumi's chest to stop him.]

I should brush my teeth first at least.

[Both to be considerate and to let him clear his head a bit. It didn't seem fair that Kisumi could be so charismatic without any seeming effort on his part.]

After a beat, Arthur hesitates, almost comically so. "My mother always said I should make a man romance me first."

He stretches his arms over his head and gives FDR an incredibly cheeky smile. Oh, yes, it's a challenge.

Quill didn't mind their closeness at all, in fact, he welcomed and even seemed to encourage it. Sure, it was weird at first, especially since Rocket had a hard time with it, but now they really were inseparable. Rocket was his best friend, his companion, the only guy who knew all of his secrets... And he was going to protect the other guy with his life, or at least shoot the next person who thought it would be funny to treat him like vermin.

"Why wouldn't I be sure about it?" He gives Rocket a small squeeze, hugging him a bit tighter for a moment. "You pretty much sleep here with me every night anyway. I mean, I'll have to teach you all the intricacies of hanging a sock on the door, but..." He shrugs. "I want you to stay with me."

Always keep lube on you, huh? [Snake teased his comrade, as he rooted around in the pack and found the small bottle of lube.] Is there something you're not telling me, Ocelot?

[Boss smirked, as he uncapped the lid and drizzled some over his fingers before pressing them firmly into Ocelot's asshole.]

How does that feel?

[That comment made Kisumi let out a soft, warm chuckle. Why didn't he predict that Makoto would think of something like that? It was a part of Makoto's charm, though—being worried about these little things.]

Fine, if that's what you want...but you don't mind me waiting here for you to get back?

[ Castiel has no home, technically, but the bunker is perhaps the closest thing he has to it now that he has lost his last positive tie to Heaven and all of his kin hates him. Returning to Heaven would mean certain death for sure, he knows. Although Heaven was never entirely 'home' to begin with, considering there's no one true Heaven and even though there are heavens that angels might favor, it's not like that makes it theirs. Those heavens are memories of the deceased, generated by their souls, and angels don't have souls, no place that's entirely their own. They don't need to have such a thing, they're warriors built for purpose and they used to have all of time-space at their fingertips before the Fall. Home was never necessary, only devotion to an absent father.

So Castiel has never belonged and he thought he'd be fine with that, has always been fine with that because he still had family, lately he's not so sure anymore. He feels lost. At least the bunker offers safety and comfort and perhaps it's more accurate to say that Castiel's home tends to be with people anyway. First it was his garrison, now it's the Winchesters. They're all he has left and their presence is what makes the bunker the kind-of-home that it is. He's well-aware that Dean views it as home and Sam less so, it's obvious in how Dean's room is decorated and filled with little personal touches while Sam's room is only set apart from the other standard rooms by the TV and the books strewn around, no photos or personal items to be found on the walls or the desk. But with how relaxed Sam lies next to him, so at ease, it's impossible to think of the bunker as anything other than the Winchesters' home.

Castiel is comfortable in the small moment of silence, head propped up so he can still easily watch the TV screen, until Sam speaks again and catches him off guard. There's a flicker of surprise that passes along his face as he turns his head to look at Sam, almost wondering if he's joking. (Sam isn't, his tone alone says that enough.) Castiel knows he's not a very good hunter, he lacks the social graces necessary for all the pretending to be something else that's needed in the job and then some. If it weren't for the fact that he's an angel, that he can heal and smite and take a beating far better than any human can, he'd be entirely useless. Sam knows that. So the unexpected sentiment surprises him, fills him with warmth.

Frankly he does miss it too, misses being by their side when they venture off into dangerous situations where he can't watch over them or help them directly. At the same time, the thought of stepping outside the bunker fills him with unease and dread for reasons that are beyond his grasp. It's why he doesn't fight Dean very much whenever he insists Castiel stay behind and take the time to recover. He's still not a hundred percent, has been feeling off kilter and unbalanced ever since the attack dog spell, so it's not like he can argue a whole lot. ]

Perhaps sometime soon.

[ He replies in a neutral tone, hiding his uncertainty behind a small crooked smile, the statement a quiet hope and a small dread all at once. It's a good thing then that the TV offers a momentary distraction as he hears the episode come to an end and, remembering where the remote is, he retrieves it to prevent the next episode from automatically playing, making it jump back to the menu instead. His attention is quickly drawn back to Sam however, tilting his head at him in an almost curious fashion as Castiel speaks matter-of-factly, though with a strong conviction behind the words. ]

Hardly. You've suffered more than enough in your life, Sam.

[ The 'you deserve to feel good' is left unsaid to be heavily implied in his earnest expression. Castiel wishes he could take all of the suffering away, all the emotional scars and loss and the heavy guilt that Sam carries. He can't. He has to settle for healing cuts and bruises, soothing away physical aches, it's all he can do. It doesn't feel like enough. Sam deserves so much more, so much better, than the hand he's been dealt in life. Both Winchesters do, but their fates can't be changed and there's nothing Castiel can do other than help in what little ways he can and try to atone for the suffering he himself caused them. ]

[ Do something about his clothes? What, like... mend them? The idea that this can be done at home takes Valmont a second to wrap his head around - isn't that what tailors are for? - but all the same, he acknowledges the offer with a slight wave as he heads upstairs. He certainly isn't going to spend one more minute in these too-small pajamas than he has to. Even if they are silk.

Luckily, he's about to spend a fair few minutes out of them, because god, yes, shower. The moment the water first strikes his face is quite possibly the most beautiful thing he has ever experienced. Hopefully Finn isn't too attached to the idea of having any hot water left over, because left to his own devices, Valmont will never actually get out. ]

[Well, at least he doesn't have to rush about the mending. Or the cooking. In fact, when he finishes both (with pre-made batter, of course) and Valmont's still in the shower, Finn heads upstairs and knocks on the door.]

Hey, V Man. Breakfast's gonna get cold if you don't finish up soon.

"God, you are such a momma's boy if she's having to give you advice on your gay love life." He teases, tugging the blankets firmly off of Arthur.

Fine. He'll strip him. Even if he has to wrestle his clothes off of him. He doesn't really have any qualms with that. And he does love a challenge, loves any game that deals with clothes and the taking off of them. And, Arthur is already missing his shoes, so that makes things even easier.

"Though you'll hardly be a challenge if you lay there like that. Should I give you a three second head start?"

[Makoto was already putting his feet to the floor when Kisumi spoke, and he paused, glancing over his shoulder, smiling fondly.]

Stay as long as you want. Do you need anything while I'm getting up?

[Kisumi always found Makoto's consideration quite touching and even though they had known each other for a while he still managed to surprise him by his queestion.]

Not really...just hurry up and come back quick.

[He shudders again a little when he can feel Rey's breath on the back of his neck. His mind is filled with turmoil, his thoughts a confused, jumbling shift. The only thing that seems to remain consistent within them is the thought of Rey. She's the bright light at the center of his dark mind.]

Perhaps the best course of action is to follow neither the Light or the Dark Side. Neither have given me what I really want.

[Kylo shifts slowly, turning around so that he's now face-to-face with Rey. He stares into her hazel eyes, and for a moment, it feels like his heart has stopped. No one ever told him that the path to the Force was such a lonely one. He's built up a wall around himself, keeping everyone at arm's distance. Here, Rey was breaking down his walls one by one.]

[ His shudder prompts her to tighten the arm about his waist, aiming to comfort and soothe — she doesn't think he's cold but whatever the reason, it can't hurt to get a bit closer.

His words, too, spark a reaction in her. Nothing she's seen or experienced from either the Light side or the Dark side has truly spoken to her as the correct path; she draws strength from both at times, and then sometimes from neither.

Kylo turns over to face her, his form seeming larger now in the small bed beside her than it had with his back facing her, and he searches her eyes with something that looks like longing in his. His are dark, reflective pools in the dim light of the sleeping quarters, mesmerizing in a sense that doesn't allow her to look away from him. Rey stills her breath, the arm that was formerly around his waist now draped loosely across his hip but still anchoring them to one another. ]

...What do you really want? [ she asks, genuinely and a bit breathlessly. ]

( there's something to be said about having a home – more than just a base of operations, a headquarters in which to do their research and make plans for moving forward. while sam still doesn't have it in him to settle completely, if only for the fact that he's terrified it's all going to go to hell in a handbasket and they'll have to move on right when he finally convinces himself that it's all right to put down roots. the boys themselves have never really had a place like this, not with john moving them around as much as he had when they were younger, chasing down the monsters that sought to ruin the lives of the people they were meant to save.

home has never been a matter of a physical place, for him. it's one more thing they can agree on, that home means surrounding yourself with the people you care about the most, just like bobby singer's adamant, constant reiteration of family don't end with blood. it's all in what you make of it, and with the three of them – team free will, always – they're making the most of what they've been given, and whether or not any of them realize that's what's happening, it doesn't quite matter, does it? not when they all seem to fit together like pieces from the same puzzle, complementing and completing one another as perfectly as no other beings could, and sam can't deny that it feels good to have a family that he can rely on. blood or not.

that he hadn't been expecting the sentiment of missing hunting with him wouldn't have surprised him, truthfully. dean hadn't exactly beaten around the bush when he'd come right out and said that castiel wasn't meant to be a hunter, and it's true that he doesn't know how to read people like the winchesters themselves do. they know how to pick out the tiny little details that might seem inconsequential, piece them all together to bring the semblance of a whole, and even if the angel's willingness to help stays in the realm of the tangible, what he can see and hear and discern from being an angel and using the powers of such, he'd still tried to help them out, and that's what counts in sam's book.

it doesn't matter that he doesn't help as much as he would perhaps like to, because the company is all that really matters to sam, in keeping him close and under their care even if, more often than not, it's the other way around. castiel has been healing their hurts and their wounds for so many years now that it's difficult to imagine, to remember a time when all they had was a busted-up first aid kit with minimal supplies and a bottle of whiskey for antiseptic – and even if he doesn't ride along with them, when they come back battered and beaten, at least they'll be taken care of.

so castiel can stay, same and cozy in the nest he's built in sam's room, or he can come along whenever he'd like. sam knows he still isn't one hundred percent when it comes to his own powers, his own measure of healing, and truth be told he would rather the angel stay cooped up in his room until he's back at full power. but the invitation doesn't have an expiration date, and he's more than welcome to pick up on it when he feels he's up to getting out of the bunker. )

Whenever you're feeling up to it. I know you don't have all your mojo back just yet … it was just a thought, y'know?

( his gaze lingers, for the smallest moment on that lopsided smile, taken in completely by how open and genuine it is. and when those words next come out of his mouth, he almost wants to argue – almost, until he picks up on the implication of what's being left unsaid, the little nuances that only he seems able to pick up on, and the will to argue drops right out of him.

maybe he's been through a lot, and maybe he deserves a break every once in a while, but he could never bring himself to take for granted that castiel cares about him enough to heal even the simplest of aches and pains, the little things that are barely more than an annoyance and would disappear in a day or two. and it makes him smile, himself, just as lopsided and just as genuine.

he's blessed by the other's presence, and he hopes castiel knows that, has known that since the moment they'd met, even if it hadn't started out as nicely as this. )

It's nothing that some ibuprofen and a good night's sleep wouldn't have fixed. ( there's a small pause, and then, almost hesitantly, the tips of sam's fingers brush against the other's elbow, the smallest sign of affection and thanks. ) But still, really. Thank you.

[He goes silent, unusually reflective as he thinks of the best way to phrase it. One of his hands reaches out and plays with a strand of her dark hair that's framed her cheek. He runs it through his fingers, twirling it around before he tucks it behind her ear. Then his hand rests on her shoulder, feeling her skin growing warm beneath his touch.]

Power. Enough of it to shape things the way I want them to be. Enough of it to drown out my fears.

[There's something of his old self in his words as he says it, the power-mad knight who had followed Snoke with a blind zealotry and who had insanity lurking in the depths of his dark eyes. It's not so easy to leave his past behind. He goes on, the words coming easier to him now.]

I was always afraid I wasn't going to be able to live up to the legacy of my family. That all I would ever be was medicore. [He spits the word out with venom and distaste, his old anger quick to rise up. He pushes it away from his mind, too tired to deal with it right now.] I thought the path of the Jedi was too slow and limiting. I wanted to be the most powerful, strongest Force user in the galaxy. But the way of the Sith didn't grant me what I desired either. So here we are. [On a desolate island on a tiny planet in the middle of nowhere, curled up in bed together. Overall, there were worse places he could have been.]

[He waved with a yawn as he trundled out the door, doing as Kisumi asked and being as quick as possible, considering he needed to brush his teeth for at least two minutes.

Makoto was moderately more awake when he came back, fidgeting from foot to foot before he slipped back under the covers, shyly.]

Was that quick enough?

[ Rey's breath stills again when he touches a stray wisp of her hair, winding the curling lock around his fingers before tucking it back into place, and her face grows even warmer than before; her hair is out of its traditional three-bun style and looped into a low, soft ponytail for sleep, but the reverent way he touches it makes her want to leave it completely unbound.

She listens as he describes his quest for power, his desire for strength, his fear of not measuring up to his family's powerful legacy; hearing it only nurtures her already-sown compassion for him. ]

For so long, I resented you for that — for discarding your ties to your family so easily, when it'd been all I'd ever wanted. I couldn't understand how you could do it...but then I've never grown up with that kind of expectation, either, those unspoken demands placed on you. [ she thinks for a moment of Anakin Skywalker, of Vader, how his legacy had shaped the two generations after him, before continuing in her soft whisper. ] I've never had someone look at me and...fear what I might have the potential of becoming, mistrusting me before I was old enough to know what kind of power lay dormant within me.

And you are powerful, [ she tells him earnestly, searching his face with her eyes, simultaneously reassuring him and tending to his darkest fear. ] You're one of the most powerful people I've ever known. But you'd also had Snoke whispering in your ear from the time you were a young child, manipulating you, lying to you. Telling you only he knew the secret to true strength.

[ tentatively she lifts a hand to his face in a mirror of his own action, and traces — with delicacy and infinite care — the line of the scar running from forehead to chin, a jagged line she'd put there herself. it feels as though it were so long ago; a lifetime ago. her eyes grow sad and distant. ]

...I'm sorry, for this.

"Well, alright, I could do that, yeah." a smile growing on his face as he accepted the idea himself. He turned in Quill's grip then, so he could rest against Quill's warm comfortable chest - and Rocket's soft warm fur probably felt nice for Quill in turn.

"Wait, why, would you hang a sock on a door?" Rocket asked, innocently.

[Kisumi watched Makoto walking up to the bed lying on his side and supporting his head with his hand.

What a great morning, really.]

That might have been a world record.

[Moving closer, Kisumi poked Makoto's nose with his own, smiling mischievously.]

Definitely worthy of a very long and sweet kiss.

[He listens quietly. Rey seems to be the only one who can produce this reaction in him. When he's around her, he wants to soak up every bit of her words like water filling up a sponge. She's both simultaneously wise and vulnerable at the same time. Rey is his tether to the Light and he has a new fear in his heart.

He fears how much he's grown to rely on her. It's a fear that stems from the Light Side of the Force, but he knows how quickly it could turn dark in his heart. His own grandfather had fallen to the Dark Side through the love for his wife. But that's a discussion for another time. Right now, this moment is all he can focus on.

When her hand is done tracing his face, he grabs a hold of her wrist with gentleness. The delicate skin of her pulse point beats beneath his fingers, roughened from a lifetime of working with his lightsaber.]

Don't be. It's a reminder of my mistakes. I need it, sometimes, when things don't seem so clear in my head.

[He blinks, trying to stay awake. He doesn't want to leave anything left unsaid between them, not when things seem to be going so well.]

It was so easy to let the Supreme Leader lie to me. You don't know what it's like, being in his presence. He made it seem so easy. Every time I discarded a little bit more of my morals, I just told myself it was one step closer to the power I wanted. It was only after my father-- [No, he still couldn't speak of that, not without breaking down entirely.] --after that, it all seemed so hollow.

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is it hot in here or is the floor LAVA

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of course! i love sam and cas & sam's friendship is so important to me, haters are missing out

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i've just been playing him for so long that i got used to other angelbutts ignoring him, buh.

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