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Arms go up. Shirts are removed, horrible jeans she is never going to wear again (yes, there will be a bonfire at the end of the night, don't worry) shimmied out of, the whole deal. April isn't belligerent, isn't even teasing. Just compliant as she lets Will deal with...everything. Moving, living, working out the complex puzzle of going from being carried to in bath. She's back home with the person she trusts the most in the world, he could ask her to hold this knife at just this angle and she'd do it without blinking. So long as they were back together.

And a bath happened. That too. Murder could only occur with suds were also involved.

A bath happened indeed, at first warm on the verge of being too warm, twice the usual amount of foaming bath stuff dumped in to make the sudsiest, most welcoming bath ever. If April hadn't realized she was Queen of the castle, then said bath probably proves it. He's cleaned up the dogs (and every other furry thing around the house) enough for her to know he's not stranger to it, but there's a clear difference with April. He isn't just more careful, more accommodating, and neither is he treating her like glass, like bathing an infant. The care present is much more akin to worship, to having found someone holy and sacred, loved above all else. He even takes off his shirt. Enjoy the show, April.

Which means that only after she's clean and those suds have significantly vanished, the water now too cool to be comfortable, does Will lift the plug and get up just long enough to return with a towel. And after a towel, the fluffiest bathrobe the have, warm and soft and easy to wrap around a pliant, damp body. No knives, no tools of anything close to a threat, just a warm cozy space fueled by body heat since, yes, Will picks her up again as soon as he can like he's afraid he won't get the chance to if he doesn't. Like she'll vanish, again, if he doesn't keep her so close he she could feel every bone in his chest if not for the floofy fabric around her.

"Bed?" asked quietly from the doorway. The bed was, of course, in sight. But perhaps... "Or are you hungry?"

Not that Will couldn't go to the kitchen and get her something if she was (he would), but the idea of having even a foot of space away from her right now was one of the Most Depressing things he could imagine.

"Bed."

So she'll lose a few pounds. Whatever. With Satan as a bed pillow she hadn't been the worst off. For some people that may have weird ethical implications, but April considered what Happened in Russia Stays in Russia. Or wherever they were. At the end of the day, Lucifer had no holds on her, no matter how many snack cakes she stole from him.

"Everyone okay?"

"They are now," comes out immediately, the fondest smile that could ever be plastered on his face as he crosses to the bed and gingerly lays her down. Before he curls up right next to her, of course, tugging the blanket at the end up enough to cover exposed feet and not much else. Then he's right back to the whole disregard for breathing room between them, nosing past wet hair to press a kiss to her forehead. "Bet your boys are on their way home as we speak. You'll get to see everyone being okay soon enough."

Hopefully none of them got nabbed by other raccoon lovers. Not because that means April would lose one of her devoted minions, but because Will knows how damned horrifying they can be when they mean business. They'll get here one way or another, he's sure.

She makes a small noise that confirms, yes, she's listening. But there's no real room for thinking following that confirmation. The jerks would trickle in, one by one, like they had the very first time she'd set up an apartment in the City. If they'd actually remember the destruction they'd caused in their uncivilized phase would be something new to see. Later. Much, much later.

For now there was bed and Will and dogs. She pressed her face against his shoulder, curling into his grip that last millimeter that might have been left open.

While one hand of Will's fiddles with her hair, the dog has moved in for the kill...by curling up just behind her back and flopping down against the curve there. A watchful guardian ready to spring into action should it be necessary, but definitely getting a cuddly nap first. And not long after that, the foot of the bed creaks, another dog having joined in. Another part of April's home coming around to form a protective circle.

Will, once settled, doesn't move an inch. Doesn't have a reason to. Doesn't have any intention on finally falling asleep (not unless April falls asleep first, and probably not for a good hour after staring at her sleeping even then). No pressure to ask what happened, no overwhelming urge to tell her he loves her a million times over (she knows), just the singular delight of being back together in their bed. If silence and sheer security is all April wants, then that is exactly what she's going to get. Communicators buzzing or beeping, phones ringing...nothing short of the fire alarm shrieking while the sound and smell of fire clearly wafts through the house is going to break the whole April getting what she wants.

What she needs.

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