𝕮𝖗𝖔𝖜𝖑𝖊𝖞

The words, finally said. Finally there, finally-- well, not finally real, because the feelings were always there, right under the surface, barely hidden. And then they weren't. And then, despite the whispering, they were loud.

And it does feel impossible. It feels like a dream, completely different worlds, and barely registering a step somewhere else, but he's...happy. He's happy it happened. He's nervous, he's afraid, he's excited, but he's happy.

And, for what it matters, he likes Crowley's sharp features. He doesn't associate them with evil. Or conventionally demonic. He finds them interesting. He finds them good. They're part of what makes Crowley, and that's all they need to be, as far as he's concerned.

Another kiss. Eyes closed again. Pressed close again. The contact feels right, the closeness feels perfect, and this is where he wants to be, right now. His hands, still at Crowley's back, pull him close as well, gently, but there, firm enough.

I'm here. I'm staying here.