John should've cleaned up first. Or, at the very least, changed his shirt. Because while stumbling through the streets of late night New Orleans may not raise any eyebrows, doing it covered in bodily fluids that don't belong to anything on this mortal plane definitely does. But John doesn't care. It's been almost three weeks since he last came here and after the nightmare he's been through he's in desperate need of a friendly face. And right now he can't think of any friendlier than Des.

Being so eager to see someone he's only known a few months should ring alarm bells but John's too punch drunk and exhausted right now to hear them. And even if he did, he probably wouldn't listen. It only took Des one night to slip through the cracks in the walls John's built around himself and, in return, John's fallen hard and fast, in far too deep to climb out again.

As soon as he reaches the bar, John presses himself up against the window (as much for support as to peer through it) and looks for Des. It doesn't take long to spot him, wiping down the tables at the end of what was probably a very long shift. John raps his knuckles on the glass to get his attention and Des looks ready to tell him where to go until he realises who it is and rewards John with a smile that soothes the longing John's felt ever since he left.

Des's smile quickly drops when he sees the state John's in and he races to the door, rushing through the locks to let John inside, his eyes taking in the tears in a once white shirt that expose the bloody claw marks underneath.

"What the hell happened to you?"

In the last minute, John's forgotten all about what brought him here, too busy reacquainting himself with Des's lovely face. At the reminder, his eyes drop to his own chest.

"Oh, that," John says, frowning, although he's unable to wipe the weary grin off his face completely. "It's a long story."

And it's one he'd happily go into but the moment he steps inside the world starts to go black and the floor comes rushing up to meet him.

When John wakes up, he's in a dark room, lying on something much warmer and softer than the floor. He hears footsteps and when his eyes open, Des is the first thing they focus on.

"Hey, Johnny."

There it is, that smile, although it's now laced with worry, and John tries to ask what the fuck happened but all that comes out is a croak. A second attempt is thwarted by a hand running gently through his hair.

"Give it a minute. You hit the floor pretty hard."

And doesn't John know it. There's a pounding in his skull that seems to be growing by the second. He considers sitting up but a sharp sting in his chest tells him that's a bad idea.

Closing his eyes, John rubs his temple and clears his throat to try speaking again. This time the words come but his voice sounds like it's been through a wood chipper.

"Where are we?"

"Back room of the bar. I was about to call an ambulance."

John's eyes spring open, which he regrets immediately.

"No - fuck -" John presses the heel of his palm to his forehead and waits a beat before finishing. "Don't. I'll be alright."

"You collapsed, Johnny. And you look like you've been through a war."

"Had worse, love," John insists, holding up a dismissive hand. "Look, just...a drink and a shower and I'll be right as rain, yeah?"

Des doesn't seem convinced but he doesn't push and, after assessing John through narrowed eyes, gets up to grab him a glass of water. Not the drink John had in mind but appreciated all the same, as is the helping hand Des offers to sit him up.

"I'm gonna finish closing up, alright?" Des says, warm hand lingering on John's back. "Then we'll head to mine if you think you can manage the walk."

Gulping down half the water in one go - he hadn't realised how thirsty he was - John nods and waves Des away.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. You go."

Another long look and a kiss in John's hair that makes his stomach do something funny and Des stands, his eyes never leaving John until he's out of the room.

"Jesus," Des mutters as John finishes his story.

Whether his comment is about the story or the scratches on John's chest isn't clear. It's probably both. But the marks aren't as bad as they seem, even if they have bled spectacularly. All they'll need is a clean and maybe a bandage or two and they'll be the better part of healed in a few days.

"Yeah, nasty bugger, it was," John agrees, as Des helps him take off the shirt. "But I sent it packing. Won't be harassing the people of Shreveport again for a very, very long time."

This is something that's pretty new. Usually, if the person he's sleeping with isn't actively involved in the world of the supernatural, John doesn't talk about it. It's hardly the best way to get someone into bed. But while Des has never dabbled, he's no stranger to magic. Sharing his last name with a famous voodoo priestess is no coincidence, after all.

Balling up the shirt, Des nods to the bathroom. "You know where the shower is." And then, giving John another once over, adds, "Think you can manage by yourself?"

Although the comment was meant innocently, John grins. "Just about. But if you wanna join me, I won't say no."

He winks and the smile he gets in response makes his stomach do more funny things, but Des doesn't follow and while he's a little disappointed, John can't blame him. He doesn't want to be near the supernatural grime any longer than absolutely necessary either. The stuff stinks.

John runs the water as hot as he can stand and, after removing the rest of his clothes - all of it destined for the trash - steps in. The heat takes a moment to adjust to but soon starts to soothe as it runs over his aching body. He's been running around like a blue-arsed fly for the past few weeks, barely time to smoke a cigarette, let alone eat or sleep, and now that he's finally stopped, it hits him all at once, mixing with the heat and steam to make him dizzy. John braces himself with his hands on the tiled wall as he ducks his head and closes his eyes, breathing slowly in and out. He doesn't realise how much time has passed until the water temperature changes and a hand presses gently between his shoulder blades.

"Johnny?"

John doesn't say anything yet, just lets the voice wash over him, as soothing to his ears as the hot water is on his skin. He's always liked the way his name rolls off Des's tongue.

There's movement and the sound of clothes hitting the floor before arms slide around John's waist, pulling him back against a broad and solid chest. Eyes still closed, John lets his head rest on Des's shoulder. He could probably fall asleep like this if given the chance.

Des's laughter tickles John's ear.

"C'mon, Johnny, let's clean you up and get you into bed."

John mumbles a reply, although it's anyone's guess as to what that reply actually is and the only thing holding his complaints in check when Des's arms slip away is the knowledge that they'll soon be back.

Des starts with John's hair, fingers carding through it as he works the shampoo into a lather. This isn't something John's used to but, god, it could be. Normally, when a job is over, John will skulk away to lick his wounds and drink himself into oblivion. Pampering is never part of the equation. As fingertips massage his scalp and scratch a spot behind his ear to draw out a soft sigh, John thinks from now on that it should be. And that he wants Des to be the one doing the pampering.

And there's a whole lot more to come when Des starts washing the rest of him, his touch careful and soft as he begins at John's shoulders and slowly works his way down. Des has never been heavy handed, a gentle giant of sorts like Chas, but he's even more gentle now, ghosting over scrapes and bruises and placing the occasional kiss on the nape of John's neck.

Yeah, John could definitely get used to this.

When he's finished with the back, Des turns John around and, even more carefully, cleans away the more stubborn patches of grime around the wounds on John's chest. It hurts but John really doesn't care. It's worth it for the attention, earning a kiss at every sign of pain.

At John's hips, Des's hands come to a stop and he makes slow circles with his thumbs. His face is close enough for John to see the water clinging to his lashes. He seems thoughtful and it might be John's imagination but it feels as though something between them is starting to shift.

But neither says anything and Des keeps making those slow little circles until he leans in for a kiss that makes John melt. Slow and tender and not John's usual flavour but, right now, exactly what he needs.

At any other time it'd be a kiss that led to a whole lot more but even John knows that'll have to wait. It doesn't stop his body reacting, though, Des's hands and mouth making heat stir in his gut, making him moan into the kiss when he feels Des's tongue brush against his.

John can't say how long they're in the shower but he knows that they're stepping out of it far too soon for his liking, even if he does feel ready to keel over. He perches on the edge of the bathtub to dry himself and is soon distracted by the sight of Des doing the same, not even aware that he's openly staring until Des starts to laugh. John gives him a wide, boyish grin. To think just hours ago he'd been locked in a fist fight with a three headed demon. In this warm, cosy bathroom, that seems like another lifetime.

The journey from bathroom to bedroom is short but feels much longer to John, who's absolutely knackered at this point. He crawls straight into bed, ignoring the offer of sweatpants, more than happy to sleep naked. Des does opt for pyjama pants, which John appreciates because Des already worked him up enough in the shower and it'd be a terrible waste to have a man like that naked beside him and be unable to do anything about it.

Sinking heavily into the sheets, John lets out a long, satisfied sigh.

"You sound like you haven't seen a bed for a long time," Des remarks as he settles beside him.

"Mmmmhh," is all John can say in reply. He certainly hasn't been in one this comfortable for a while.

He feels Des's arm once again find its place around his waist, bringing them chest to back and John manages a mumbled thank you as lips touch his shoulder before he falls asleep.

When John next opens his eyes, it takes him a while to remember where he is and why.

Des's bedroom…

Des's bed…

Des.

He's still asleep, lying on his stomach and hugging his pillow and, looking at him, John feels an ache that has nothing to do with pain. It runs all the way through him, warm and bittersweet, leaves John wishing he could live this moment over and over in a never ending loop. Another one of those sickeningly romantic notions that are becoming a lot more common these days.

Unable to resist, John runs his fingers slowly from Des's shoulder down to his waist.

Warm, honey brown eyes open slowly.

"Morning, handsome," John says, fingers retracing their steps.

"Nnngfff," is Des's reply as he buries his face into his pillow to yawn and then stretch. John watches the muscles of his back shift with the movement and, not for the first time, thanks whatever stroke of luck led him into Des's bed.

When he's finally capable of speech, Des offers a small smile and asks, "How're you feeling?"

His hand comes to rest lightly on John's chest, careful to avoid the marks. The ache in John grows.

"Peachy, love," John grins. He's still exhausted but feels a whole lot better than he did last night.

"Good." Des rolls onto his back, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Coffee?"

Coffee sounds good, but first…

John beckons Des closer with a crook of the finger.

Des doesn't hesitate, leaning in to press their lips together. But John wants more than a good morning peck. He holds Des's face in his hands and opens his mouth to draw Des into deep, lazy kisses, just like the ones they shared in last night's shower. And this time when their tongues meet and heat starts pooling in John's gut, he doesn't resist, sliding his hands down to Des's waist to pull him closer.

Fitting between John's legs, Des uses his weight to pin him to the bed. John's always loved how big Des is, how much of him there is to enjoy and as warm hands run over his skin, John arches into them and bites back a moan.

Des's lips travel along his jaw and he takes John's earlobe between his teeth before trailing hot, wet kisses down his neck. Knowing how much John likes it, Des bites as he rolls his hips, and John lets out a sound that's a cross between a purr and a moan, hips lifting, begging for more. He gets it as Des begins to grind against him, moving slowly, making sure John feels it, his lips covering every inch of John's skin from shoulder to shoulder.

It's been far too long since John enjoyed a good morning fuck and it shows. It only takes a few thrusts to leave John panting and hard and he's going to need Des to do something about it very soon otherwise John's pretty sure he'll go insane.

He reaches down and tugs at the waistband of Des's pyjama pants, making it clear what he wants and Des, who's now as hard as John is only too happy to oblige. The pants come off and the sheets are kicked away and John almost forgets to breathe as he takes in the sight of Des's naked body. Too long, he thinks, running his hands over Des's chest, it's been far too long.

He pulls Des back down into hard, desperate kisses, the slide of Des's cock against his pulling needy little sounds out of him.

"Des," John breathes but doesn't finish the thought as Des kisses him again and puts his hand where John is desperate for it to be.

Des swallows John's moan as he slowly slides his hand down John's cock, thumbing the tip and spreading pre-come before stroking back up. He keeps the pace slow, his hips moving in time as John's fingers drag down his back.

But all too soon Des stops and a pathetic sound falls out of John's mouth.

"Don't stop!"

Des's grin is far too pretty and his voice is far too sexy as he murmurs into John's ear, "Be patient, Johnny."

John snorts. He's too far gone for that. But all's forgiven when Des rummages through the top drawer of the bedside table and pulls out a condom and lube.

John takes the condom and rolls it onto Des's cock and delights in the way Des closes his eyes and bites his lip as John strokes him.

They kiss again as Des pours lube into his hand and then those warm, wonderful fingers are working John open, and John's left writhing on the sheets, breath coming out in short, desperate gasps as Des touches him right. Fucking. There.

The heat in John's gut is now a fire as Des brushes his prostate over and over, making John keen with want as his entire body burns. It won't be long before John comes, which isn't a problem, but as lovely as Des's fingers are, there's something John wants a lot more.

He grabs Des's wrist and only just finds the voice to ask him to stop.

"What is it?" Des asks, eyes flooding with concern.

"N-nothing." The word catches as Des's fingers slide out and John smiles to reassure him.

He takes Des's cock in his hand to stroke him again and Des's hips give an involuntary thrust. Wrapping an arm around Des's neck to pull him close, John licks the shell of his ear and listens to Des's breathing speed up as John tightens his grip and strokes him faster.

When he has Des panting, John whispers into his ear. "I want this inside me. I want you to fuck me."

John's hand goes still and he plants both feet on the bed to lift his hips as he presses the tip of Des's cock against his entrance. In one slow, smooth motion, Des pushes in, and doesn't stop until he bottoms out.

"Oh, fuck," John moans and Des kisses him, biting John's lip before pulling away.

Des adjusts his hold on John and pulls halfway out. Their eyes meet for a moment and then Des thrusts back in hard enough to make John shout.

Des fucks him hard and fast, every snap of hips lighting John up inside. He holds on tight to Des's shoulders, kissing Des's lips, his face, his jaw, leaving red marks along Des's neck as he bites and sucks.

Des breathes hot and fast into John's ear, interspersed with moans that push John ever closer to the edge. But Des is closer and he starts thrusting even faster and it's all John can do not to scream. He goes in for one last, messy kiss and, with a sound that rumbles deep in his chest, Des spills inside him.

John follows right after, arching up against Des as he comes. His voice breaks from the rush of pleasure and leaves him lightheaded when it's over.

They lie still together for a long time, catching their breath until John starts nuzzling around Des's ear and runs his hands lazily up and down his back. Des lets it happen for a while before turning his face and the kisses that follow make the bittersweet ache so strong that John is sure his chest will burst.

It's a good thing Des won't let his mouth go because John's about to tell Des that he loves him and it's only been a few months, which is far too soon to be doing anything stupid that might scare this wonderful man away. But maybe Des can feel it because the kisses aren't stopping, they only get deeper, and a desperate edge creeps into them until the only thing that can eventually pull their mouths apart is the inconvenient need to breathe.

Beautiful honey brown eyes gaze into John's.

"Love you, too, Johnny."

The smile that spreads across John's face can only be described as beatific. He kisses Des again to show him just what that love means.