18+ Oneshots

19 - Dean/Crowley - Mark of Cain Boys Trip

The pair were hopping bar to bar across the country. They were seducing whatever women they could and killing anyone who even looked at them funny. It was the time of Crowley's life!

Now, as Crowley got ready for dinner, he was pleasantly startled by Dean strolling into his hotel room. He couldn't help but light up, smiling at Dean as he made eye contact with his reflection before schooling his expression into a disinterested frown.

"You could try knocking." He turns, slowly running his eyes over Dean. "But, I must say, it's never disappointing to have a hunk of eye candy in my room."

Dean scoffs, "Maybe if I get tired of the local talent, I'll stop by again." The words were playful, but Dean's glistening black eyes blazed with promise.

"Anyway," reaching out, he snags Crowleys tie. With a flick of his wrist he pulls him close and winks. "I need your sweet ass downstairs as back up."

And then he's gone, leaving a slightly flushed Crowley alone in his hotel room.

. . .

Crowley descended to find Dean and the remaining patrons of the bar crowded around a table. Dean and what appeared to be a cocky business man were engaged in a high stakes card game. Dean shoots Crowley a look, that glare said he had a shit hand and was two seconds from stabbing the asshole he was playing against. With a smirk, Crowley gets comfortable in a seat against the wall and slips out of his meat suit.

Possessing his opponent, Crowley did all he could to sabotage the mans hand. Finally, Dean grins, canine teeth glinting as he easily wins and scoops the cash up.

Needing a cover for the man to slump down dead without getting the cops called, Crowley stands, a scowl on his face, and storms to the bar. He orders a few shots of whiskey, and downs them before pretending to pass out. Collapsing on the bar, he slips out of the man to return to his preferred vessel.

He opens his eyes to find Dean sitting beside him, counting his loot.

"You really barged into my room to help you swindle someone at poker?" Crowley raises a brow, a judgemental pout to his lips.

Dean rolls his normal looking eyes and stuffs the money into his pocket. "I was bored and the guy had been bragging about being a finalist in some poker TV show. I thought it would be fun to humble him, but you said you didn't want to get kicked out and I would've killed him if I lost," the rage of the mark of Cain flares in Dean's eyes. "so I thought it would be easier to have you deal with him without attracting attention if things went south, which they did."

Crowley waves off Dean's explanation, "We don't even need the money, you know I have this covered."

"You don't need it. I don't like being dependant on anyone. Especially not a demon."

"Looked in the mirror lately, sweetheart?" Crowley sneers, his eyes flickering black a moment. "You aren't exactly a shining example of humanity yourself."

Dean presses a hand to Crowley's throat, pinning him to the wall and leans in close. In a low, rough voice, he snarls, "Don't get cocky with me, you brat."

Crowley's face flushes and he covers his mouth to muffle an undignified whimper.

Dean's grip loosens and he smirks, leaning close to ghost his lips over Crowley's jaw. "Well, that's interesting."

He lets go, hand slipping down Crowley's chest. He snags his tie for the second time tonight, and stands, pulling Crowley up after him. Crowley looks mortified at the thought of any demon seeing their king being bossed around by a human and tugs at his tie.
"Dean-"