Where The Devil Don't Go

Crowley - Two

Imagine: getting drunk with Crowley and annoying your brothers, Sam and Dean.

You swirl the whiskey in your glass, listening to the chinking of the ice cubs, breathing in a fragrance that only years in an oak barrel can achieve. Already the worries of your day are beginning to fade, even before the first taste. Just watching its gentle vortex is hypnotizing enough. There is no case to solve, no vampire to kill, no victim to worry over; there is just aged single-malt direct from Scotland. It is your one vice and you intend to make a virtue of it, savour it, not race to the bottom of the bottle like you normally do with your brother, Dean. When the liquid settles you bring it to your weather-cracked lips and let the amber fluid sit in your mouth a while before swallowing. You close your (E/C) eyes, dwelling only on the flavour. God, it is good. Then you retune your ears to the familiar British accent, ordering the same drink.

"Crowley." You mutter, placing your glass on the bar.
"(Y/N)." He doesn't make eye contact as he sits on the stool next to you. "Fancy seeing you here."
"Well, there's alcohol so you shouldn't be too surprised." You raise an eyebrow.
Crowley grins as he downs his glass.
"Rough day in the office?" You question, a grin playing on your lips.
He sighs loudly. "Even dead, humans are bothersome."
"Tell me about it." You turn to the King of Hell, a huge smile on your face. "You know what, Crowley, I turned out liking you a lot more than I originally planned."
"It's only because I am the only person who can out drink you."
You chuckle. "Maybe, but on the other hand you're not exactly a 'person'."
The two of you clink your glasses together, watching as the liquid in the tumblers crash in waves.
"To drinking!" He exclaims.
"To drinking!"

Each drink offered seems like a better and better idea. The jokes get funnier, you become a comedian of epic proportions and you can flirt with the King of Hell without worrying about the consequences. You feel pretty, witty, and cool. You pull your top a little lower and push your chest out a little further and suddenly the drinks become cheaper.

As the night goes on the two of you keep necking drinks, moving on to other beverages as the whiskey runs out. Crowley is a pretty good drinking partner, even if he is the King of Hell. You already know that you're going to hell. At this point, it's really go big or go home. Drinking with the King of Hell can't damage your reputation too much. Eventually, the bartender kicks the two of you out and you are left to stumble into the night.

"Careful." Crowley grumbles, as you trip over your feet.
"Hey, it's the floor's fault for being wonky. I am simply trying to walk."
The two of you burst into uncontrollable laughter as Crowley holds you close, his arm wraps around your waist as he pulls you into his body. He snaps his fingers and you are teleported to the outside of the Bunker.
"Shh, don't wake Sam and Dean. They get cranky." You loudly whisper.
Crowley put his finger to his lips, and you insert your key into the lock; well you attempt to. The key misses its target and slides across the door.
"Shit." You giggle, attempting to unlock the door again.
It takes five tries for you to finally insert the key into the lock and the Bunker door swings open with a bang. Crowley and you both shush the door as the bang echoes loudly. Crowley steps forward into the Bunker and you follow, shutting the door as quietly as you can. The room is encased in darkness and you fumble for a light switch.
"I can't see." Crowley moans.
"Don't you have x-ray vision or sommet?"
Crowley turns to face you.
"And how would that help me see in the dark?"
The two of you burst into a fit of laughter, before remembering you are supposed to be quiet. Crowley takes a step back as you shush him, but loses his balance and tumbles down the metal stairs. Your laughter explodes like TNT, and you can't control it. Time seems to slow as you watch him fall down the stairs, and soon tears are rolling down your cheeks.
"I'm ok!" He exclaims once he has reached the bottom.
"What the hell is going on?" A deep voice suddenly shouts as the room is suddenly filled with light.

Sam and Dean are stood armed and ready as they examine the scene. You go silent, before carefully walking down the stairs. Crowley manages to get on his feet and the boys automatically aim their guns at him.
"Why does everyone assume the worst of me?" He grumbles.
"It saves time." Dean replies, before turning to you. "Where the hell have you been?"
"Did you get my note?"
"Of course, I got it. You taped it to my forehead while I was sleeping."
"Then you know where I've been."
Crowley nods, agreeing with you.
"Why are you with him?" Sam questions, lowering his gun but keeping the safety off.
"We are drinking buddies." He states, pulling you into his warm body.
You feel your cheeks flooding with heat, and you hope Sam and Dean assume it's due to the copious amounts of alcohol coursing through your body. Dean clenches his jaw as he stares at Crowley's hand, which is hovering just above your butt. Dean steps closer to you, and you notice his nose twitching slightly.
"Jesus, (Y/N), why do you smell like wine?" Dean scowls.
You roll your eyes. "Wine is my favourite way to eat grapes."
Dean strides forward, his green eyes burning with anger.
"Bed, now!" He growls, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards him.
"Somebody's cranky." You huff.
"Somebody needs to shut up."
Dean roughly pulls you towards your room as Sam deals with Crowley. You manage one swift glance behind you to see Crowley winking at you before Dean drags you out of the room.

Dean throws open your bedroom door and pushes you in.
"Get changed and go to bed. I can't believe you were drinking with Crowley!"
You turn your back to your older brother, a frown drawn across your face.
"We were having fun. We never have fun anymore. Maybe if you and Sam weren't so obsessed with hunting every single monster then we could go out drinking again." You yell.
Dean seems taken aback by your outburst, but he quickly recovers.
"So, you want us to let innocent humans die while vampire packs and demons terrorise people?"
You sigh in annoyance. "That's not what I'm saying. What I mean is, maybe once in a while we should let someone else take a case. Then we can spend time with each other before one of us dies again!"
You and Dean stare at each other, urging the other person to say something.
"Go to bed, (Y/N)." He says softly, as he steps out of the door. "We'll talk in the morning."
Dean closes the door with a click, and you slump on your bed, tears brimming in your (E/C) eyes.
"Would you care for a spot of company, my love?" Crowley whispers as he appears in your room.
You glance up at him in shock.
"Your brothers can't keep me away."
The two of you stare into each other's eyes, and Crowley takes your hand. Your skin tingles where he touches you and your heart beats erratically in your chest, so hard that you think it might fly out. There are butterflies – no, lions – in your chest, but it feels good.
You finally admit to yourself what you have known all along, but was too afraid to admit it: you like him. A lot. And you want to be with him.