"I forgive you Jim, but leave me alone"

Sherlock clearly wasn't keen, but it was only a game; the two never seemed to stop playing. Bending with obvious reluctance Sherlock pressed a swift kiss to his cheek and retreated immediately, "Have a... whatever day."

           ❝--oh, uhm... that's very nice, jimmy. very sweet.                                    bit creepy, but i a-appreciate it. thank you.❞

Crowley smirked, pulling out the outrageously long contract, which stretched out along the ground. "I highly suggest you read the fine print."

Crowley laughed. "Oh, Jim, darling. Even though you're the spider, you really do have a soul, I can assure you of that. It's not as bright and pure as an altar boy's, but it's still there. The darker souls are always the more... malleable, I find."

Crowley chuckled softly. "Honesty. I like that." He leaned back in his chair, tilted his head slightly. "But even if you became a demon, you'd never be able to topple me. If it were anyone else that had even suggested that, I'd have snapped their neck."

[ too much alcohol, yet again - the taste is delicious enough to keep richard’s mind away from a potential no more. he doesn’t even remember when the drinking session with sebastian started, but the dim memory makes him grateful for the reactions occuring in his still swaying body; it’s warm and nice, making the storyteller smile at every possible detail of life he can spot around, when the world is spinning so fast. breathing reminds him of sweet salvation, one he is eager to accept, while thinking remains a higher mystery. no, the poor little thing is unable to go that far. reaching for another bottle, he opens it with clumsy movements and immediately greets his throat with fresh dose of liquid happiness, purring. it’s his newly discovered, favourite sound; no wonder why he does that statistically two times per minute. ][ and then it happens. one of the most terrible ideas strike the leftovers of consciousness, encouraging richard to stand up from the safe couch and stumble down the corridor. jim is here, somewhere, probably working like he’s used to do most of the time (at least in the actor’s opinion), so this is the only chance to lead the older twin to the relaxation. richie feels like a hero, as his shoulder lands against the stable surface of the door and pushes it open, inviting him to a whole another world. neat, alcohol-free one. the utter need to change that burns through his veins like fire. ]            ❝—surps— surprise, jimmy! i’ve go-ot… a surprise for you.❞[ the exclamation is louder than it should have been, while, god knows where from, richard finds a remote in his hand and clicks a green button, allowing a rather slow song to escape from the nearest player. oh, that’s good. exactly how he wants it to be. with the widening smile he steps forward, careful enough to find himself in the consulting criminal’s sight, and presses hands to his slightly wrinkled shirt, playing with it for a longer moment. like a cat. seductively, as much as he is able to in a state like this. and then the material reveal skin. richie’s chest is free, when the prison of top clothes fall to the ground, and the attention slides furhter down, right to the edge of his trousers. even the hips never stop moving, as he wants the show to be good. ]

'Evening, boss. About the new files you've given me--you don't really expect me to spend days decoding this information, do you?