Nothing was as fancy as the apartment Simon lived in, and Judas thought that he had everything he needed here. Why pay for anything more when he wasn't here that much? Needed a place for his stuff, to sleep, and come back and relax at night. That was it. Didn't need a lot of space for that. Judas so would love the 'tiny houses' craze in America.

JC was some rare thing to exist, some perfect-skinned angel that felt utterly untouchable until he touched you first. Which he always would. Besides, scars, track marks... he didn't need that on someone. So when Judas made it to the bed and turned to say something and there was JC standing already half-naked, he paused, admired, before he shook his head to clear it. He knew JC. Had known him for years now. JC didn't get those sorts of urges. Even when Judas had, sometimes a bit drunk or less than gently, tried to start something in the past, he'd been turned away, but that had been years ago.

He shrugged out of his coat, throwing it over the back of the nearby chair, then sat down to start on his boots. "I'm a terrible date," his voice was joking, "because I'm going to end up passing out as soon as my back hits this bed." A long day of hard work spoke volumes about how much he wanted to sleep, but he also didn't think much of it.