#nightswatchbar

A drowsy whine escaped the medic, mind already on all his tasks for the day and the appointments to prepare for. But he also had a very warm, very devoted soldier curled around him. Decisions, decisions.

He giggled when Steve offered up a bribe, hoping that meant he’d get chocolate chip pancakes and eggs rather than some minimal burnt toast. Warm breath washed over his shoulder, making his own breath hitch and bit at his lip, again reminded of the fact that he had mister warm and muscled curled around him, shielding the smaller medic from the perils of awakening on time.

“I suppose some antidotes can wait…” He grinned, wiggling back to snuggle deeper into this comforting arms and sighing happily. He wasn’t particularly tired anymore but the heat coming off the other combined with the curl of his arms around him lulled Desmond back to sleep, mouth slightly parted and body completely slack.

Steve let out a content hum that sounded an awful lot like victory when Desmond snuggled closer and relaxed against him. Still half-asleep, it wasn’t long before he was dropping off again. Even as he did so, he was still curled around his boyfriend. 

It had been a long mission. He’d managed to end up mostly unscathed, but it had been a no-contact mission, which meant he hadn’t been able to call or even text Desmond while he was gone. Pure exhaustion plus that extended separation meant Steve was feeling even clingier than usual. The desire to have Desmond as close to him as was physically possible would probably continue through at least the rest of the day. Hopefully, the medic wouldn’t mind too much. 

"And you dare come unto my domain. Brave for a little mortal. Why have you come?"

The pitch black hound sat atop a large tomb stone. Turning it's piercing golden gaze upon Desmond. The glow of his eyes illuminated the fog around the graveyard.

Oh, and he knows it

@nightswatchbar

Desmond sighed, lips quirking up as Remus tried to cheer him up, the baker figuring that….maybe he really hadn’t known it was bad? He was an absolute sweetheart most of the time and-dammit, if Desmond was caving in and being a pushover again-but he the cold nose pressing to his neck was making him squirm and bite back a laugh as he plopped down onto the bed with Remus in his arms.

“Fine. We can play for a little bit but please try and not get fur all over my bed next time. I’ll smell like puppy everytime I go to bed.” He laughed, scratching behind Remus’ ears and rubbing the soft, warm appendages. So soft!!

“Silly puppy!” He giggled, mood lifting for the moment and his hellhound’s forehead, curiously stroking at his tail. He hadn’t had him that long, rarely seeing him half shifted like this. He just wanted to rub those adorable ears and scratch his scalp and play with the flopping tail. “Even if you are a pain sometimes you’re still my silly puppy.”

Remus had sort of known it was a bad idea. He’d known full well that Desmond had just done the laundry, and he’d had an idea that he probably didn’t want him to make a mess of it all. It was hard to resist-- impossible, really when the sheets were still warm and oh so clean. 

He giggled in delight as they fell to the bed together and squirmed to snuggle up to Desmond. “There are worse things to smell like.” he suggested, and idea coming to him that moment. “What if! Oh! What if next time I lay in your bed I just do it looking uhh... looking human--- because I can look human. I’m pretty good at it, even!”

MY MUSE HAS TURNED INTO A CAT! SEND ME “MEOW!” AND I’LL GENERATE WHAT HAPPENS NEXT!@nightswatchbar6. They have somehow gotten trapped in a closet and they’re trying to get your muse’s attention.

Worst. Day. Ever. As far as Steve was concerned, that included alien invasions. Why? Well, he was stuck in a closet, the irony of which was not lost on him, and roughly a foot tall. With pointy ears and the tiniest, most useless legs ever. Somehow, the universe had apparently gone somewhat pear-shaped and Steve was a cat. Yes, a cat. And, well. . . given his size, ‘kitten’ might be a better description. But cat-related semantics weren’t exactly his concern at the moment. It was more the fact that he was one in the first place, as well as the fact that he was stuck.

The tray of cookies is snagged by the end of the dish. A single claw dragging along the edge of the ground where dirt meets cement.

Orbs of crimson blooded fervor shine in the shadows, only half a face very dimly illuminated by the backlight of the porch. It flickers wildly afore he leaves. The tray noisely dragged along the ground until it's enclosed and swallowed up in the darkness of the night.

sexual tension sentence starters:@nightswatchbar

Steve rolled his eyes with a groan. They’d been going around in circles on this conversation for what felt like hours to Steve. He felt he had taken appropriate precautions during this last mission and that the---in his opinion---relatively small injuries he’d received had been unavoidable. Desmond would apparently beg to differ and was unwilling to back down from his standpoint on this. So, Steve had begged him to drop it.

This was not the response he’d been expecting. Or wanting, because it made it just that much harder to dance around the edges of the attraction he felt for the medic. Shit.