#drowley:fanfic

[bestiesandagents]

I was thinking about a Drowley fic prompt to the song "One More Night" by Maroon 5. I forgot about it until I heard it on the radio today and thought it was a really good Drowley song.

One More Night

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Angst, Dysfunctional Relationship

Word Count: 1180

Lyrics

Tagging:Drowley: @dauntlessdiva, @hekate1308, @supernatural-lover26Everything: @evansteph, @cosmicallydepressed, @siluthis(Message me to be added to my tags.)

“What the hell, Crowley?!” Dean stormed into the King of Hell’s throne room, the door echoing as it slammed shut behind him.

Crowley, who hadbeen in the middle of conducting a meeting with a handful of other demons,looked exasperated as his gaze landed on his lover. “Can’t you see that I’m inthe middle of something?”

He glared around atthe array of demons that didn’t seem to know what to do about the fact thatDean Winchester had just stormed into their midst. “Do I look like I care?” hesnapped as he turned back to Crowley.

Dean would have calledthe demon that lunged at him brave, if it weren’t for the fact that he was soincredibly stupid. He didn’t even manage to so much as touch him before Crowleysnapped his fingers and he disintegrated. Dean didn’t bat an eye.

“All of you, out,”Crowley ordered, resigned.

There was only aslight hesitation as the demons glanced at each other, unsure of themselves,but then they quickly filed out the door. Dean didn’t move from where he stood,his eyes locked with Crowley, burning with anger and betrayal that he knew wascompletely unjustified. Crowley hadn’t betrayed him – he never would have givenhis word not to do something like this in the first place – it was Dean who hadbetrayed himself by allowing himself to get so wrapped up in someone like him,by allowing Crowley to have enough power over him to make him feel this way. Hehad stopped using his head, and look where it had gotten him. And not for thefirst time, either.

“What can I do foryou, darling?” Crowley asked, just a touch of sarcasm to his voice.

“I know you killedthose people,” he spat.

He sighed as he laiddown the notes from whatever meeting he had been in and leaned back in histhrone. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

Dean’s blood boiledat that, but of course he was right. Crowley had killed lots of people. Whoeven knew how many? “A family in Little Rock. Found slaughtered in their homeyesterday morning. Place reeked of sulfur, and I know your touch when I seeit.”

Crowley’s eyes sparkled,but he otherwise appeared unfazed. “Your point?”

“Dammit, Crowley! Ican’t believe you would-”

“Now, that I findhard to believe.”

He was right. Itwasn’t Crowley he couldn’t believe; it was himself. How could he be so stupid?For being with Crowley in the first place, for standing in front of him nowwith no weapon in hand. He should be killing him, not yelling at him, secretlyhoping for some kind of explanation, even though he knew Crowley had nojustification for his actions. That he didn’t even think he needed one. “Did iteven occur to you that I’m a hunter, and I might end up on the case?” hedemanded. “You realize how messed up this is, don’t you?”

“Please, youinterfere in my business all the time,” he argued as he rose to his feet andbegan to walk across the room, towards Dean. “You dispatched five of my bestdemons last week.”

“That’s totallydifferent! I’m trying to save people-”

“And I’m trying toconduct business! Do you know how bad it looks that I haven’t killed you andyour brother yet? Especially after your little display tonight. So, I think Ido you enough favors without swearing off killing just a few of the otherpeople that I need dead for the benefit of my kingdom!” His voice rose witheach word until it was echoing through the room.

“Seriously? Notkilling your boyfriend is a favor now?” He shook his head, unable to believethat Crowley was trying to turn this around on him, even though it wasn’tanything he hadn’t done before. “What the hell is wrong with us?”

“Everything.”

He was right aboutthat. Dean didn’t think it was possible for a more dysfunctional couple toexist. He didn’t know how he had ever thought that they could make it work. Butthen, he hadn’t really. There had never been much thought involved in his andCrowley’s relationship, it had just happened. But it shouldn’t have. That muchhe knew.

He took a step back.“I can’t do this anymore.”

In two seconds,Crowley had grabbed hold of his arm and had him pressed against the wall, Dean’shands automatically finding his hips before his brain could catch up with whatwas happening.

“Don’t…” he started,but even he could hear the old weakness creeping into his voice as his eyesflickered down to the lips that were now just inches away from his and his bodypressed closer, responding to him despite his protest.

“I love you, Dean,”Crowley said, his voice low and fervent, all of the passion from their fightstill there, finding a new outlet.

Yeah, I don’tthink you really know what those words mean, a voice in the back of Dean’shead spoke, but the words, “I love you, too,” were already breathlesslyspilling from his mouth, and he hated how true it was.

And then Crowley waskissing him. This was their dance, he knew it well. They’d fight until Dean hadone foot out the door, and then Crowley would pull him right back in. They’d gofrom yelling and throwing things to gripping each other tight, never wanting tolet go. How had he gone and fallen in love with someone like this? It was allwrong, but he didn’t know how to get out.

“Crowley,” he pantedwhen they finally broke apart. “You know this is never going to work,” he saidreasonably, even though the words seemed to cause him physical pain. “We’realways going to be fighting against each other.”

He sighed as he relaxedhis grip on Dean, sadness in his eyes that made him look almost human. “You’reright,” he muttered as he took a step back, but he seemed unable to move morethan a foot away from him. “So, is this it, then?”

Dean opened hismouth, then closed it again, feeling his heart fracturing in his chest. Don’tdo it, that voice in the back of his head spoke again, but he was alreadysaying, “Give me one more night.” He’d hate himself in the morning, but thatwas just par for the course. At least he’d be satisfied.

Crowley smiled, avictorious gleam in his eyes because he had heard that line from Dean a milliontimes before, and it never stopped there. One night quickly turned into two,then three, then ten, and then they were doing the dance all over again.

“I mean it thistime, Crowley,” Dean insisted, hoping that this time his words would ring true.“I’m only staying with you one more night. That’s it”

“Whatever you say,love.” But there was not a trace of worry in his voice as he stepped forwardand pulled Dean into another kiss.

[bestiesandagents]

Memories

SPN Rare Ship CC: Round 25 | bestiesandagents vs. @tricksterarchangelgabriel

Prompt: The Open Road Ship: Drowley Word Count: 1671 Tags/Warnings: angst, major character death Summary: Dean has too much going on in his head and he just needs to get away from it all, but a certain demon won’t let him be. AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19874074

Tagging: Drowley: @dauntlessdiva, @hekate1308, @supernatural-lover26 Everything: @evansteph, @cosmicallydepressed, @siluthis

Dean wasn’t sure where he was going exactly. He just knew that he needed to clear his head. To think, even though those two things sounded contradictory.

Sam had been asleep when he’d left he bunker. He probably should’ve been asleep too, but after laying there for over an hour, unable to close his eyes because whenever he did he was reminded of all that he had lost, he decided to seek out the best remedy he knew – the open road. There was a sort of clarity it brought him. Just him in the Impala, the road spilling out before him. It was the one time that it didn’t matter where he was going. There was no one to save, no obligation, no expectations, he just had to follow the road wherever it took him. And wherever that place was, it was guaranteed to be better than what he had left behind.

“Running away from your problems again, squirrel?”

Dean kept his eyes trained straight ahead, ignoring the figure of the demon that had materialized beside him. Maybe if he ignored him…

“You have to know it won’t do you any good,” Crowley continued.

“Go away,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

“Is that really what you want?” he asked skeptically.

Dean didn’t reply.

“Thought not,” he chuckled. “That’s one of the things I like about you. You put on your little tough-guy act, but anyone who knows you can see what’s really going on in that head of yours. You’re an open book.”

“Am not,” he protested, even though he knew it was useless to do so.

“Oh, please. Right now, you are drowning in your most recent loss, and you are absolutely desperate for my company. Care to object?”

“If I do, will you leave me alone?”

“Of course. So long as it’s the truth,” he added with a knowing smile.

Dean looked over at him and sighed. “So, what? I’m just stuck with you forever, then?” he demanded, knowing that it would be pointless to lie.

“Aw. Are you saying that you’re always desperate for my company?”

He glared at him. “Right now, the only thing I’m desperate for is some fucking peace and quiet.”

“Then why won’t you let yourself have it?” he challenged.

He turned away, focusing once again on the road ahead of him. He wanted to be mad or even indignant, but he knew that the only person he had a right to be so with was himself. And he was mad at himself, but it wasn’t exactly like that was anything new.

“You can’t lie to me, darling,” Crowley said victoriously. “Peace and quiet means that you’re alone with nothing but your own thoughts, and we all know how that song goes.”

“Not if I’m driving. Then I’ve got the road to focus on. Keeps me distracted without all the annoyance.”

“And how’s that going for you?”

Right again. Dean shook his head as though doing so would rattle his thoughts enough so that he was no longer drowning in them. It didn’t work. The pain and grief of loss was still bearing down on him. His slammed his foot down on the gas pedal as though he could accelerate away from it all.

“Where are we going, anyway?” Crowley asked after a minute of letting him stew.

“Nowhere,” he answered shortly.

“Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully. “Remember the last time we got in this car and just drove to see where we ended up?”

Dean’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. He remembered alright. Remembered taking off, not a care in the world. Remembered stopping at every dive bar they came across and not having to worry about moving on until he became bored with a place. He remembered the months filled with fighting, fucking, and far more alcohol than a human being would be able to consume. And he remembered Crowley being at his side through all of it. It had been a life without consequences, without guilt – at least until that had all come crashing back down on him with the force of 1,000 archangels. “Yeah,” he said gruffly.

“The good ol’ days.” He looked over at him with a smile.

“Not sure I’d call ‘em good,” he argued stiffly.

“But you miss it. The fun, the lack of responsibility, quality time with yours truly.”

“Yeah, but that wasn’t all there was to it,” he sighed, glancing over at the demon and then away again. “It wasn’t… I wouldn’t go back, even if I could.”

“Oh, I know that. You can miss the symptoms without liking the cause. It’s nothing to feel guilty about.”

“I killed someone, Crowley,” he snapped. “And that’s not even touching on all the other shit I’m never gonna be able to wash clean.”

“Again, I didn’t say it was all good. I turned you over to your brother for a reason, after all.”

“Yeah, because I wouldn’t listen to you,” he scoffed. “Real noble.”

“You know that’s not all it was.” His voice was no longer lighthearted. It seemed to echo in the car with an implication that Dean didn’t want to hear.

“Well, it’s in the past,” he sighed, forcing himself to relax his grip slightly.

“You learned nothing from being a demon, did you?” Crowley demanded.

“What was there to learn?” he shot back incredulously.

“That you need to take better care of yourself. Maybe you wouldn’t have gone so far off the deep end if you hadn’t spent your life depriving yourself.”

“Or maybe I would have because I had become a demon,” he said exasperatedly.

“Oh, of course, I forgot. You’ve never met a single demon who has any redeemable qualities. Who has a handle over their nature and can even help people, given the right motivation.”

He shook his head. “That’s not-”

“Because to you demons are all just heartless monsters who don’t care about anything but destruction,” he plowed on. “And I’m no better than the rest of them.”

He swallowed thickly, guilt twisting his stomach into knots. “That’s not true.”

“No? That’s how you always treated me. Oh sure, you’ll humor me so long as I’m useful, but that’s only assuming you have no other options. When it comes down to actually considering me a part of the team? Or heaven forbid, actually treating me with respect? Even when I’m offering you my help, it’s like pulling teeth. And yet, time and time again I’ve come to your aid, put my own life on the line for you, even though we all know you’d never return the favor. Because you’re so much better than me.”

“It’s not like that!” he protested. “I never knew when I could trust you or when you’d end up stabbing us in the back!”

“Now that’s a lie. You’ve known for some time now that I would never actually harm you. Or even stand by while someone else did so, if there was the slightest chance that I could prevent it.”

“Yeah, but it’s one thing to know that and another to be able to accept it. I mean, trusting a demon doesn’t exactly come easily to me.”

“Of course not. So rather than break the status quo…” He trailed off, a layer of sympathy sliding over the pain in his eyes without completely managing to obstruct it. “I get it, Dean, really. Anything but hatred towards me is out of your comfort zone. And why make yourself uncomfortable for the sake of one demon? Doesn’t matter what I’ve done – no demon’s worth that, right?”

Dean was silent. What could he say? Crowley was one hundred percent right. He had never treated him fairly, all because it would make him uncomfortable to do so. He had to hate him, had to set those boundaries, because the alternative… he just didn’t know how to come to grips with it. Except that he didn’t hate him. And that alternative was staring him in the face and he didn’t know what he was supposed to do with it.

They were silent for the next few miles. He could still see Crowley in his peripheral vision – mostly looking out the window, but occasionally looking at him – but they had crossed over the state line before he spoke again. “You can’t run from it, you know.”

He gave a humorless laugh. “And what do you think I’m running from, Crowley?”

He didn’t answer. “How many is it now?” he asked instead.

Dean didn’t need to ask for clarification, he knew exactly what he was asking. How many people have you lost? How many of your friends, family, people you were responsible for have died? How many have you failed to save? “Too many,” he answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’d think you’d be used to it by now.”

He didn’t feel like humoring him with a response.

“I’m surprised at your reaction, honestly,” Crowley continued. “Given everything…. Why?” He looked over at him, his expression open and curious.

He shook his head. “You know why.”

“Don’t I deserve to hear it?”

Dean slammed on the breaks. He didn’t even take a second to see where he was before he got out of the car and slammed the door behind him. He was in the middle of a crossroads. How fitting.

He took a few deep breaths, trying and failing to calm himself down, before he spun around to see Crowley standing right behind him. Of course he was. He always was these days. “Because I loved you, Crowley,” he said, his voice breaking. A tear slid down his cheek and he squeezed his eyes shut to stop the flow. There, he’d finally admitted it. Not that it mattered at this point. It was too little too late.

He imagined that he felt the brush of lips against his and he opened his eyes. But of course there was no one there. There never had been. Crowley was dead, and he was alone with nothing but a memory.

[bestiesandagents]

Christmas Drowley prompt, something with mistletoe maybe?

The last time Dean had had such a strong urge to celebrate Christmas it had been because he’d known that it would be is last chance - it was one last hurrah before he went to Hell for eternity. This year, though, the urge came from the fact that he actually had something to celebrate - for once it seemed like all the pieces of his life were falling together, rather than apart, and he felt like he could let loose and enjoy the holiday for once. Which was why he had insisted on decorating the bunker.

“I think it looks good, Dean,” Sam said as they stood, admiring their work.

“Yeah, it’s alright,” he said. The bunker was a little big for the amount of decorations they had gotten, and it didn’t quite live up to Dean’s vision. It was still decorated, though, and that was good enough for him.

“Hello boys,” a voice suddenly spoke from behind them. “What’s all this?”

“It’s Christmas,” Dean said as he turned to face Crowley, ignoring how his heart fluttered at the sight of the demon. Ever since Crowley had been brought back to life, Dean had become more aware of his body’s reactions to his presence - and the feelings they implied - but he was still doing his best to live in denial.

“Really?” He looked around the room. “This is the best you boys can do?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded indignantly.

“It means that you have decorated a sixty-five-hundred square foot building with decorations adequate for a small house. Here, allow me.” He snapped his fingers and immediately the entire bunker looked like the set of a Hallmark movie.

Dean huffed out a breath as he looked around, unable to stop the smile from spreading over his face. “This is great.”

“You’re welcome,” he said proudly, taking a step forward.

“Uh, Dean,” Sam muttered, a warning in his tone.

Dean looked over at his brother, then followed his gaze up to see that mistletoe had evidently been materialized directly above his own head.

“Well, look at that,” Crowley said innocently. Even if Dean would have believed that it was a coincidence, Crowley’s shit-eating grin as he pulled him into a kiss gave him away. Oh well, at least he had an excuse to finally kiss the guy.

By the time they broke apart, Sam had apparently decided that it was too much for him and had left the room.

“Shall I escort you to your room?” Crowley asked politely.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Let me guess, the ceiling’s covered in mistletoe?”

“Only one way to find out.”

That was a yes. But again, it was a great excuse. He shrugged. “Alright, sure.”

Tagging: @dauntlessdiva

[bestiesandagents]

Not a Hallmark Movie

Sam Winchester is a big shot lawyer in New York City whose life is made until his high school crush shows up at Christmas time to derail everything.

Dean Winchester is a mechanic in Lawrence, Kansas, but his holiday plans take an unexpected turn when the CEO of his company needs a place to stay.

Today’s chapter follows Sam, tomorrow’s will follow Dean, and then on Christmas I’ll post their Christmas celebration.

Word Count: 4661

Sam watched from his office window as Christmas lights lit up the city below. His boss had said he could get a Christmas tree for his office, but he’d declined. He didn’t need another reminder that he couldn’t be with his family on Christmas.

“What are you thinking about?” Ruby asked, her arms wrapping around his shoulders from where she stood behind his chair.

He forced a smile as he placed a hand over hers. “How much work I have to do,” he sighed.

“Well, that’s what you get for being so important to the firm.”

He made a noncommittal noise. This particular law firm had never been his end goal. It had been a good, starting position when he had gotten out of law school, but in his opinion, the firm more emphasis on making money than helping people, and that had never been what he wanted. But then he had met Ruby. She was the owner’s daughter, and Sam highly suspected that his relationship with her was one of the reasons he had been promoted. And now he was stuck. He was working for his girlfriend’s father, and if he ever left, his relationship would be ruined. But he was making good money and was certainly more successful that most people were at his age, so he supposed he shouldn’t complain.

The door opened and his secretary stepped inside. “Sir, your four o’clock is here.”

He nodded. “Thank you, Karen. Send him in.” He turned to Ruby as Karen stepped out. “Guess that’s my cue to get back to work.”

“Fine.” She leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. “Don’t let daddy work you too late.”

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “Because I have control over that.”

She gave him another kissed, then made her way out of the office.

As the door was closing behind her, someone else caught it, and Sam looked up to see that his four o’clock was immediately familiar. Castiel. His stomach did a backflip, he was pretty sure his heart was trying to beat out of his chest, and he had no idea what his face was doing. He hadn’t seen the guy since high school. How did he still have this effect on him?

“Castiel,” he said in surprise.

Recognition lit his eyes and he smiled. “Sam.”

He chuckled lightly at his surprised tone. “You didn’t know it was me?”

“I called into the firm to make an appointment,” Castiel explained. “They didn’t tell me who I would be meeting with. If I had known you worked here, I would have requested you, of course.”

“Well, I’m glad they put you with me. How’ve you been? Are you… living in New York now?” he asked, hope creeping into his voice.

“No. Just visiting family.”

He felt his heart sink slightly, irrationally. “Right. I guess that’s why I had the name Chuck down on my schedule.” He sank back down into his chair. He needed to remember that Castiel was here for business, it wasn’t an opportunity for him to catch up with his high school crush. Not that he needed that, anyway. He was perfectly happy with Ruby.

Castiel nodded as he walked forward to take a seat across from him. “That’s my father. I made him an appointment, but something came up.”

Sam frowned. “What’s going on?”

“My brother is stealing from him, and as my father gets older and his health declines, I know Lucifer is going to take even more advantage of him than he already is. I knew things had been bad for a while, but I didn’t realize how bad until I came for the holidays.”

“Do you have evidence?” he asked, picking up a pen and beginning to scribble away on his note pad.

Castiel explained the situation to him as he took notes. By the end, he was sure of three things: One, Castiel was right about what was going on. Two, it would be a very difficult case to win. Three, the case wouldn’t make the firm that much money, unless he vastly overcharged Castiel, which he refused to do.

Sam stared down at his desk. He wanted nothing more than to help him. This was exactly the kind of thing that he had wanted to do when he became a lawyer – help people in tough situations – and not to mention, Castiel was, or had been, his friend. But he knew what his boss would say if he even suggested taking the case. There was no real money in it and success wasn’t a guarantee. They would look at him like he was insane.

“Cas…” he began hesitantly. “I-I would love to help you out here, I really would. But… it’s just not the kind of thing our firm handles.”

Castiel nodded, looking down. “Of course. I understand.” He offered him a small smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “Thank you for your time, Sam.”

He rose to his feet, and Sam followed his lead, reaching out to shake his hand. “It was really good to see you again,” he said fervently.

“You too.” He started to turn to go, but then he glanced back at him. “You know, your office could really use a Christmas tree. I feel it would suit you more.”

He laughed. “Why? Because I’m so Christmassy?”

He shook his head. “It just feels cold in here, and you’re a very warm person. You brighten every room you enter, much like a Christmas tree.”

Sam could feel his cheeks heating up and he really hoped he wasn’t as red as he felt like he was.

“Have a Merry Christmas, Sam,” Castiel continued as he turned away and started walking for the door.

“Cas, wait,” he found himself saying before the thoughts had fully formed in his mind. He didn’t know what he was doing, he just knew that he couldn’t bear to send Castiel away to deal with his situation on his own, he couldn’t bear to watch him walk away period. “I could take your case pro bono.”

Castiel’s eyes were wide as he turned back to him, shaking his head. “I could never ask you to do that.”

“You’re not. I’m offering.”

“Are you sure?” he checked.

He nodded, a smile spreading over his face. “I’m sure.” This was the most like himself that he’d felt since he’d moved to New York.

Castiel returned his smile. “Thank you, Sam.”

The next day Sam and Castiel met up over his lunch break to discuss the case.

“You really don’t have to pay for my food,” Sam insisted after Castiel instructed the waiter to bring him the check.

“You’re helping my family. It is the least I can do.”

He sighed but relented as the waiter set the check down on the table and Castiel snatched it up before Sam could do anything about it.

Once the check was paid, they bundled up, and Castiel fell into step beside Sam as he walked back to his office.

“So, what have you been up to since high school?” Sam asked.

“I’ve done a few different things,” he said with a shrug. “But I’ve been working with Dean for about a year now – as a clerk, not a mechanic. You know how I am with cars.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I remember when Dean tried to teach you.”

“I am never allowed to touch his car again.”

He swayed with his laughter, brushing against Castiel. “I didn’t realize the shop had gotten big enough to hire a clerk,” he said once he sobered up.

Castiel frowned at him, his steps slowing. “You do know what happened, don’t you?”

Sam came to a stop, turning to face him. “What do you mean?”

“Dean had to sell the shop. Crossroads owns it now – it’s part of their auto shop chain.”

“Wha…? He never said….” He shook his head. His and Dean’s father had started the auto shop when they had been kids, and they had done a fair share of helping out there when they were growing up. After their dad had passed away, Dean had immediately stepped up to take over the shop; it was all he had ever wanted to do, after all. He couldn’t believe that had been taken away from him. And Sam was familiar with Crossroads – they owned pretty much half of Kansas, at this point, dabbling in just about everything. Their CEO was a real piece of work, from his understanding. “If he needed money, he could have called.”

“You know Dean,” Castiel sighed. “He never wants to ask for help.”

“I know, but… he never even told me.”

“Well, to be fair, the two of you did sort of drift apart since high school. I mean, when was the last time you went to see him?”

He looked away. Too long, he knew that. But he’d felt bad enough leaving Dean in the first place, seeing him just made everything harder.

“Sam! There you are!” Ruby came darting out of the office building in front of them. “Where have you been?” Her gaze slid to Castiel. “Who’s this?”

“Oh, this is Castiel – he’s a friend from back home,” Sam explained, feeling more than a little uncomfortable. He had always kept his old life from Kansas and his current life in New York very separate from each other. It was weird to be experiencing both at the same time. “He’s in town for the holidays, so we were just grabbing lunch together. Cas, this is my girlfriend, Ruby.”

Was he just imagining it, or was that disappointment that flickered in Castiel’s eyes? It was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. “A pleasure to meet you,” he said with a small smile. “You have a really great guy here.”

“Yes, I do,” Ruby gushed. “I bet you can’t believe how far he’s made it since high school.”

“Ruby, stop,” Sam muttered.

“Oh, come on, Sam, be proud of your achievements! You’re impressive.”

“Right…” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “So, you were looking for me?”

“Yes. My father’s invited us over for dinner tonight. I thought, you know, if there was anything you were wanting to talk to him about, it would be a good opportunity.”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Ruby had been dropping not-so-subtle hints like this for months. At least it had made Christmas shopping easy – he had bought her a ring just a couple weeks ago. “Sounds great.”

“Good.” She pulled him into a kiss. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“She seems… interesting,” Castiel said once she had walked away.

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, she can be a little much sometimes. She’s really great, though.”

“I am glad you are happy,” he said, but there was something in his expression that Sam couldn’t quite put a name to. “You seem to have made quite a life for yourself here.”

“Yeah, I guess I have.” His expression faded slightly. “But maybe I should’ve kept in better touch with my old life. Maybe if I’d talked to Dean more, I could’ve helped him.”

“And maybe if I had kept in better touch with my family, things wouldn’t have gotten as bad as they are,” Castiel pointed out. “Everyone makes mistakes, Sam. You can’t beat yourself up over it.”

“At least you can do something about it, though. It’s too late to save the shop.”

“You can still call Dean. I know he would love to hear from you.”

Sam looked skeptical. “I’m not so sure about that…”

“He’s not mad at you for moving away,” Castiel assured him. “He just misses you.”

He looked down, his guilt weighing on him. “I should get back to work. I’ll be in touch about your case.”

He sighed and nodded. “I’ll look forward to your call.”

Sam and Castiel kept in pretty consistent contact over the next week, and Sam knew that he was putting more time into his case than he devoted to his paying clients, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Even on Christmas Eve, after he had finished up the rest of his work and was ready to leave the office, he found himself pulling Castiel’s file over to tie up a few things before he left for the day.

“I thought you decided not to put up a Christmas tree,” Ruby commented as she entered the office, looking at the tree Sam that had put up shortly after Castiel’s first visit.

Sam shrugged, only looking up briefly from the file. “Thought it made the place look warmer.”

She turned back to him, pouting slightly. “You haven’t forgotten about dinner, have you?”

He almost laughed at that. How could he forget? He had had an engagement ring burning a hole in his pocket all day and his stomach was twisted into a thousand knots. But it was normal to be nervous before proposing. And these were just normal nerves, right?

“Of course not.” He smiled up at her. “I’m just finishing this up real fast.”

She walked around behind the desk, perching on the edge of it, and glanced down. “Castiel? Isn’t that the name of your friend? I didn’t know he was a client.”

“He’s, uh, not exactly. At least, not through the firm. I’m just helping him out.”

She stared down at him. “You’re giving away free legal services? Aren’t you better than that?”

He looked up at her, his expression incredulous. “Better than helping people who need it?”

She sighed exasperatedly as she hopped of the desk. “Look, Sam, I know you have a heart of gold, and I love that about you, really. But when someone’s as good as you are, you should be making money off of everything.”

He shook his head. “I’m not in this for the money, Ruby. I never have been. And if you don’t know that about me-”

“I know, I know, you want to help people – whatever. But you work to profit. When you start giving people hand-outs, they’ll start expecting it.”

“I have plenty of money-”

“But you could have more. And you can’t just think about yourself anymore, Sam. You have to think about our future. Okay, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but daddy’s going to retire eventually, and someone’s going to have to run this company. He wants it to be you. But if he knows you’re giving free legal advice, he’ll change his mind – the firm has an image to maintain, after all.”

He stared at her. His boss wanted him to take over the company…. But it was one thing following policies that he disagreed with, there was no way he’d be able to live with himself if he enforced those policies. And here was Ruby looking at him so expectantly. This was the future she had always imagined for herself, he realized – married to someone who made enough money to support her and who didn’t care whose toes they had to step on to do that. But that wasn’t him. How had it taken him so long to realize that?

“Ruby…” he said slowly as he rose to his feet. “I don’t want to run this company.”

Disbelief colored her expression. “But… think about how much money-”

“I don’t care about money! All I want to do is help people, and if that means I’m poor, then that’s fine by me.”

“But you can be so much more,” she insisted.

“I don’t know what you think more is, but whatever it is, I don’t want to be it.” He shook his head. “Is that all you see when you look at me? Someone with the potential to be successful and give you everything you want?”

“Sam, you’re being ridiculous.”

“No, I don’t think I am. I think I’m seeing things clearly for the first time in a while.” He grabbed Castiel’s file off his desk and started towards the door. “Goodbye, Ruby.”

“Might I remind you that that’s my house you’re living in?” Her voice was raising, going shrilly with anger.

“Don’t worry, I’ll find someplace else to stay.” He didn’t look back as he walked out the door, walking quickly through the halls and stairwells until he walked out the front door, taking a deep breath of fresh air, the reality of what had had just done hitting him.

He was heartbroken – he had thought that he had a future with Ruby, that what they had was real – but he also felt almost… free. For years now, his career and his girlfriend had been so closely tied together that they locked each other in place. But now… he could do whatever he wanted. It was an odd sensation, but not entirely unpleasant.

His phone began to ring and he pulled it out of his pocket. “Hello?” he answered, his voice slightly gruffer than usual.

“Hello, Sam,” Castiel’s voice greeted him. “I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas Eve.”

He managed a small smile at that. “Thanks,” he muttered. “You too.”

There was a pause. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you at your office? I can come by.”

“I don’t want to pull you away from your family…”

“We’ve already wrapped everything up. I’m not far, I’ll be there in five minutes.”

He sighed. “Thanks, Cas.”

“I just thought things were different with her, you know,” Sam said a half hour later. He and Castiel were seated at a coffee shop, mugs of hot coffee in their hands. “But maybe I’m not meant to be with anyone.”

“You can’t really think that,” Castiel protested.

“Well, I mean, it’s not like I’ve had the best luck.” He shook his head with a sigh. “Everyone who ends up interested in me only wants something from me.”

“That’s not true,” he said firmly.

“Oh, yeah?” he challenged. “Name one person who ever actually liked me for me. And you better not say Becky,” he added quickly.

“No, not Becky,” he muttered, his gaze sliding down to his mug. “But there have been… others.”

“Who?” he pressed.

Castiel took a drink of coffee at the same time that he spoke, so it ended up sounding more like a garbled hum than an actual name.

“What was that?” Sam asked.

He set his mug down on the table, staring at it intently as though it was about to do something important. “Me,” he finally said, and Sam realized that the blush on his cheeks wasn’t just from the cold.

He stared at him in disbelief, unable to quite comprehend what Castiel had said. “Y-You?” he stammered.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be inappropriate, but you asked and-”

“When?” he demanded, cursing himself for missing his shot. Because no matter what, they had definitely liked each other at the same time. He had liked Castiel pretty much from the moment he had met him, and the more time he spent with him now, the more he realized he had never quite gotten over him.

Castiel continued to stare down at his coffee, but he didn’t answer.

“Cas…” he began hesitantly, afraid to hope. “You don’t… I mean, do you still…?”

“I should go.” He stood up from the table, but Sam shot up, grabbing hold of his arm.

“Please don’t. I…” But what could he say? He had been suppressing his feelings for him for so long, he wasn’t entirely sure what they were anymore. He knew that he had once loved him, but then Ruby had come along. Besides, Castiel hadn’t said anything about loving him, so even if he did still feel that way, now wasn’t the time to drop that bomb. So instead he did the only other logical thing he could think of, and he kissed him.

Castiel went still for a moment before he returned the pressure of his lips, hesitantly at first, and then with more insistency. By the time they broke apart, they were both a little breathless.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “You, uh… you want to go somewhere more private to talk?”

He nodded, a light in his eyes that Sam was sure hadn’t been there before. “I think that’d be good.”

“Great. I just… let me go to the bathroom, then we can leave.”

“Alright.”

Sam couldn’t decide if he wanted to take his time or move as quickly as possible. On the one hand, he had just kissed Castiel, and he felt that he needed to take a minute to process that, but on the other hand, he wanted to get back out there to him. Now.

In the end, he had to take a few deep breaths to calm himself and then he walked back out to see Castiel standing beside the door, Sam’s coat draped over his left arm and staring down at something he held in his right hand.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

Castiel looked up, but that joyous light was no longer in his eyes; instead, he looked sad. He held out the thing in his right hand – it was the ring box that held Ruby’s engagement ring. “This fell out of your pocket when I picked up your coat.” He took a deep breath as he looked up at him. “Sam, I care about you a great deal, but clearly things were more serious between you and Ruby than I thought, and I have no desire to be a rebound.”

“You’re not-”

“I’m sorry, Sam, but I really do need to go.” He shoved the coat and ring box into Sam’s hands, then he fled from the building.

Sam tried to catch him, but he was already speeding away in a cab before Sam could do more than walk outside. He had a moment of blind panic, wondering what he was supposed to do now, but he knew the answer to that – he had already given up one chance with Castiel, he was not about to give up another.

He hammered on the door insistently until it was opened by Castiel’s father. “You’re not a Christmas caroler.”

“No,” Sam said, breathless. “I’m a friend of Castiel’s. Is he here?”

Chuck frowned. “He left over an hour ago. He’s flying back to Lawrence tonight.”

“What? What time is his flight?”

“Um…” He checked his watch. “In about half an hour.”

Unable to care about being rude, Sam spun around and ran off the front porch. The airport was about half an hour away from where he was, but maybe…

He was too rushed to even check the time as he ran up to the counter. “The flight for Lawrence, Kansas,” he gasped out. “Has it left, yet?”

The attendant looked at him in surprise before turning to her screen. “Yes, I’m sorry. Two minutes ago.”

Sam’s heart sank for just a moment, then determination stole over him once again. “When’s the next flight?”

She paused to look something up. “Tomorrow. Six A.M.”

He nodded resolutely. “I’d like to buy a ticket.”

He didn’t have anywhere else to go, so he slept in the airport. He couldn’t believe he was going back to Lawrence. He’d gone back for a week or so after he’d graduated from Stanford, but then he had moved to New York. Sure, he’d talked to his brother on the phone a few times – less and less as the years went by – but he hadn’t been back to his hometown to see him since he’d moved.

Of course, as soon as he stepped out into the Lawrence airport, he realized his problem – he had no idea where Castiel lived. He could call Dean, but… he so rarely spoke to him, and he felt bad calling on Christmas morning to ask where Castiel lived and adding, ‘Oh, I’m in town by the way – here to see your best friend, when I haven’t come to see you in years. I’ll probably stop by, though, if you aren’t busy.’

He sighed as he pulled out his phone, calling the person he always called when he needed someone tracked down off the record.

“What the hell are you doing working on Christmas?” Charlie demanded the second she picked up the phone.

Sam laughed. “Sorry to bug you, Charlie. I just need you to track someone down for me really fast.”

“Aw, and I didn’t get you anything. What’s the name?”

“Castiel Novak.”

She paused. “Why? What’s he involved with?” she asked worriedly.

He frowned. “Do you know him?”

“He’s a friend. And my friends come before my work. So, if he’s in trouble-”

“He’s not. I… I’m not working. This is personal.”

“Personal how, Mr. Sam No-Last-Name?”

Sam rolled his eyes. When he had started working with Charlie, he’d been very careful not to reveal too much to her. The work she did wasn’t exactly legal, so he did not need his name tied to her, just in case. “I screwed up, and I just need to talk to him.”

“Wait a second… are you…? Oh, you are, aren’t you?”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I’m what?” he asked hesitantly.

“You’re Dean’s little brother, aren’t you?”

Well, so much for that. He should have figured when she said that she knew Castiel. “Look, could you give me Cas’s address, please? I really need to talk to him.”

“Oh, definitely! Let me just pull it up. So, are you coming to Dean’s Christmas party tonight?”

“Um, I… maybe,” he said uncomfortably. Dean was throwing a Christmas party?

“You better make that a yes, mister,” she said sternly. “Alright, I got the address.”

Sam took a deep breath before he knocked on the front door of Castiel’s apartment. This had been so much easier when he had been rushing the night before. Now that he’d had all night and morning to think about what he was doing, he was nervous as hell.

The door opened and Castiel’s eyes grew wide in surprise as he saw who was standing on the other side. “Sam. What are you doing here?”

“I needed to talk to you. Look, you need to know that you’re not a rebound. I would never do that to you. I’ve been falling in love with you since the moment I met you, but I always thought you just thought of me as Dean’s little brother, so I pushed it down. It was easier after I moved away to convince myself that I was over you. Hell, I was so determined to move on that I didn’t even realize I don’t actually love the woman I was planning to propose to. I just thought it was what I was supposed to do. Settle down, get married, put you in my past because that was the only way I’d be happy. But then you came into my life again and I remembered what it was like to be in love, and I didn’t feel that with Ruby. I’ve only ever felt it with you.” The words had just come spilling out of him in a flood, and now he was breathing heavily, as though he had just run a mile. “So… yeah. That’s it, I guess.”

Castiel’s expression was amazed. “You came all the way to Lawrence just to tell me that?” he asked slowly.

He shrugged. “What else was I supposed to do?”

A brilliant smile was spreading over his face, seemingly despite himself. “I have a phone, you know.”

He shook his head. “That wasn’t good enough.”

“Well…” He took a step back. “Would you like to come in? I’m afraid I don’t have any food, as I’ve been out of town, but Gabriel did send me home with some Christmas cookies.”

Sam smiled. “That sounds great.”

“Good.”

“Oh, and Sam?” he added as he shut the door behind him.

“Yeah?” he asked, looking back at him.

“I love you, too.”

Sam couldn’t help himself. He grabbed Castiel by the shirt and pulled him into a kiss.

[bestiesandagents]

The Prince of Hell

Chapter 10: The Final Choice has been posted.

Rating: Mature Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence Ships: Drowley Characters: Dean Winchester, Crowley, Sam Winchester, Castiel Chapters: 10/10 Word Count: 20827 Summary: He squeezed his eyes shut. What had just happened? Sam had completed the cure, he should be human again… unless he couldn’t be cured.

The cure has failed. Dean Winchester is a demon, and there’s no changing that. But maybe some things can be changed. After all, Dean feels… different, after his brother pumped all that blood into him. It’s not like how Crowley was after his almost-cure; Dean actually almost feels almost like himself again. So, what does a Winchester do when he realizes he’s a demon and there’s no way out? Take a seat on the throne of Hell, apparently.

Tags:

Drowley: @dauntlessdiva

Everything: @evansteph

[bestiesandagents]

To Hell and Back

The sequel to Purgatory and Deal With the Devil is here! Here’s Chapter 1: Adjustments.

Rating: Mature Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence Ships: Drowley Characters: Dean Winchester, Crowley, Benny Lafitte, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Gabriel, Lucifer, Bobby Singer, Gavin MacLeod, Jack Kline Chapters: 1/? Word Count: 2568 Summary: Lucifer was no idle threat – there was a reason Crowley had been sucking up to him all these years. And of course, he had never expected anything until Dean had come along. He really was pretty awesome at ruining things for Crowley, apparently – first his blackmail ring, and now this.

Since getting out of prison, life for Dean Winchester has been interesting, to say the least. He and Crowley have gone from leading a criminal enterprise together to raising a son. He may not exactly like how they got there, but he wouldn't change it for the world. The problem is, if Lucifer finds out that Crowley has betrayed him, there may be nothing Dean can do to hold onto this new life that he loves.

Tagging: Drowley: @dauntlessdiva, @hekate1308 Everything: @evansteph, @cosmicallydepressed (Message me to be added to my tags.)

[bestiesandagents]

Crowley's hellhounds protecting Dean because they recognize Dean as something that Crowley cares about.

There was a very distinct different between the snarl of a werewolf and that of a hellhound. Sure, most people wouldn’t be able to tell which was which, but Dean Winchester wasn’t most people, and that hadn’t come from the werewolf he was hunting. So, since he clearly didn’t have enough problems, he was now up against a werewolf and a hellhound.

Actually, make that two hellhounds.

Dammit.

His silver bullets wouldn’t do squat against hellhounds. He needed to get back to the car - preferably before getting torn to shreds. Again. He shuddered at the memory.

He was halfway back to the car when he was jumped. It was his own fault, really. The hellhounds had made him paranoid, and he had become more focused on surviving them than the creature he had been hunting in the first place.

His gun went flying out of his hand as his back hit the ground, and he couldn’t help but think that after all he had survived, death by werewolf certainly wasn’t how he had thought he would go. Before the werewolf could land the killing blow, though, its head was torn from its body... seemingly by nothing.

It took Dean a moment to process what had just happened as he stared at the werewolf’s corpse, watching as bits of it disappeared into the air as the hellhounds devoured it. He was just weighing his chances of being able to slip away unnoticed when a familiar voice spoke from behind him.

“Good girls.”

Hellhounds all but forgotten, Dean’s head snapped around to the demon behind him. “Crowley? What the hell are you doing here?”

“Keeping you alive. You’re welcome, by the way.” He reached a hand out to pat one of the invisible hounds on the head.

“You sent the hellhounds... to protect me?” he asked incredulously.

“Of course. I can’t be with you all the time. It gives me peace of mind.” He shrugged nonchalantly as if he hadn’t just admitted that he was worried about Dean whenever he wasn’t by his side.

Dean found himself smiling slightly at that, even though the entire situation did weird him out slightly. “That’s... kind of sweet.”

“Yes, well, don’t spread it around.” He offered out a hand to help him up. “We should get moving. Juliet just caught a scent - there’s another werewolf out there.”

Tagging: @dauntlessdiva

[bestiesandagents]

"Don't fight me now cause you might need me later." Drowley prompt based on this song lyric?

There had to be a better option. Sure, there was the enemy of my enemy is my friend, and all that crap, but Dean was pretty sure that statement didn’t apply when said ‘enemy of my enemy’ was a demon. And yet, here they were, teaming up with Crowley against a group of demons the King of Hell claimed had gone rogue. What could go wrong?

Crowley had offered to run down a new lead while Sam and Dean continued on the lead they had been working on, but Dean wasn’t about to let Crowley out of his sight. So, Sam went off to talk to the wife of the latest victim, while he went with Crowley went to investigate an old haunt of the demon he was pretty sure was in charge of this rebellion.

“One would think,” Crowley mused as they walked together, “that after all this time, you might start to trust me a little bit.”

“Not a chance,” Dean spat. “You’re a demon, Crowley. I’d rather kill you than work with you.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Rude. You can’t really mean that.”

“Oh, but I do.” He raised his hand that was currently holding the demon knife and looked at Crowley pointedly. “You want me to prove it?”

He just rolled his eyes. “Don’t fight me now, cause you might need me later, darling.”

“I never need you,” he grumbled, but he lowered his arm all the same.

It was about half an hour later that they were ambushed. About a half dozen demons came at them, and Dean found himself not as surprised as he would have thought when he saw that Crowley was, in fact, fighting on his side.

Dean was pretty sure there were only one or two demons left when he was shoved against the wall by his throat, his knife slipping from his fingers. He struggled for oxygen for a good thirty seconds, and then the demon flickered and dropped to the ground, releasing him. Behind him stood Crowley, the demon knife in his hand.

“Told you you’d need me later,” he said as he offered the knife out to him.

“Thanks,” he muttered reluctantly, his eyes scanning the room. The floor was littered with demon corpses, but then he noticed that one was breathing, his hands tied behind his back. “That the leader?” he asked, nodding towards him.

“I believe so,” Crowley said with a cruel smile as he turned to look at him. “You want first go at him, or shall I?”

Dean chuckled. “You’re the one he betrayed,” he pointed out with a half-shrug.

“So, you do care,” he mocked as the sauntered over and lifted the other demon up by the collar of his shirt.

Dean shook his head slightly in exasperation as he leaned back against the wall, watching Crowley start in on him. Maybe they didn’t need a better option, after all.

Tagging: @dauntlessdiva

[bestiesandagents]

Dean saying something like "Fuck that" when they're talking about a hunting plan and then Crowley says something like "I'd rather you be fucking me." And he has that smirk on his face and Dean just stutters out a response.

And then Sam’s head drops to his hands with a groan. “You have got to be kidding me,” he mutters at finding himself in the middle of Crowley’s vulgar flirting with his brother again.

Crowley looks thoughtful for a moment, then shrugs. “You’re right, moose. He really is more of a bottom.”

At this point, Dean’s face goes from pink to beat red. “I - you can’t just-” He grounds his teeth together, then his face becomes resolved and he stalks for the door, grabbing Crowley’s arm along the way. “You. Me. Bedroom. Now. I’ll show you a bottom.”

Crowley just smirks. “I’m sure you will.”

[bestiesandagents]

Sam and Dean are working on a case and Sam is telling Dean about a lead he found when Crowley texts him a nude and then a text that say "I'm waiting ;)" And Dean is like YEAH I'LL CHECK IT OUT and rushes out of the room and Sam just sighs because he figures it's something Crowley related. (Especially 'cause this probably happens more than Dean would like to admit.)

The first time it happened, Dean got super flustered and stammered a reply that made no sense considering what Sam had asked him. Before Sam could ask what was going on, though, he had excused himself and darted from the room.

“Is it just me, or was that strange?” Castiel asked.

“Definitely strange,” Sam nodded.

The second time, Dean left a beer half drunk and a burger a quarter eaten, and Sam was worried that something might be wrong.

The third time, Sam started to figure it out. Dean had been less than motivated the past couple days, and Sam knew it had to do with how busy Crowley had been with Hell. So, when Dean had gone from dragging his feet on the case to rushing off to follow a lead on his own with all the energy of an overly-eager puppy, he had at least some idea of what was going on.

From there, he pieced together that every time Dean had suddenly disappeared over the past couple of months, it had been right after looking at his phone. Given that he had never seen Dean jump up so fast for a simple text - even from Crowley - he quickly decided that he didn’t want to know the details.

[bestiesandagents]

Dean gets kidnapped by some monster and Crowley blows all of the monsters lackies away trying to find Dean and when he does Dean says he doesnt need Crowleys help but ends up (begrudgingly) thanking Crowley as he leaves.

Dean had been in tough binds before. This was nothing new, really - just another monster that had gotten the drop on him and taken him back to its top-secret lair to chain him up and taunt him before killing him. Only, they never seemed to get around to the killing part. If Dean were talking to someone else about it, he would say that it was because he was so much smarter than the sons of bitches that he hunted. But really, he knew he had just gotten lucky all those times. And one day that luck would run out. Who knew, maybe that day would be today.

There was a shout in the hall beyond the door, followed by a sickening crunch. Dean arched an eyebrow at the head of the werewolf pack standing before him. “You expecting company?” he asked without ceasing his attempt to subtly pick the lock of his handcuffs.

The werewolf spun around as the door banged open to reveal... Crowley? Dean couldn’t imagine what he would be doing here, but there was no mistaking the demon, staring down the werewolf with furious red eyes.

The werewolf crouched down, and Dean saw his fingernails lengthening into claws. That was as far as he got, though; because with a flick of his wrist, Crowley sent him flying into the wall with enough force to send him right through it. He stood regarding the hole in the wall for a handful of seconds before turning to Dean with a slight smirk, his eyes fading from red to their usual hazel. “Hello, darling.”

“Crowley,” he greeted him suspiciously. “What are you doing here?”

He arched an eyebrow at him. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m rescuing you.” His eyes flickered to the left. “Hold that thought.”

Dean opened his mouth to ask what he was talking about, but at that moment, the werewolf pulled himself through the hole in the wall, only to pull himself right into a silver blade as Crowley teleported in front of him, blade extended. “You took the wrong hunter,” his hissed.

Dean frowned, but didn’t comment as his handcuffs finally came free. “I had this handled, you know,” he said as Crowley turned back to him. “A few more seconds, and I would’ve had him.”

He rolled his eyes. “Sure you would’ve. And then you would have been ambushed by the group of werewolves that had been waiting just outside that door before I disposed of them.”

He glanced at the open door that Crowley was pointing at to see the hall strewn with corpses. He grimaced, not because of the sight, but because he didn’t want to admit that maybe he hadn’t had the situation under control, after all. Maybe he had needed Crowley to save him.

He shook his head slightly. Crowley had saved him. How the guy had even known that Dean had been captured, he had no idea, but somehow he had found out and had slaughtered a pack of werewolves to get to him. God knew Dean hadn’t asked him to do that. But relying on the demon was not something he should get used to.

So, he turned to the door with every intention to leave without saying another word. But when he reached the doorway, he found himself stopping, glancing back at Crowley, who was watching him leave with a frown. He sighed reluctantly. “Thanks,” he muttered, then quickly left the room before Crowley had a chance to respond.

He didn’t want to talk about what had just happened, he wanted to forget about it. Unfortunately, Dean knew himself pretty well. Just like he knew that he hadn’t been any smarter than these werewolves who were lying dead all around him - he had just gotten lucky, yet again - he knew that he wouldn’t be able to just forget what Crowley had done for him.

Tagging: @dauntlessdiva

[bestiesandagents]

Dean waking up next to Crowley and thinking that he could very much get used to that

Falling asleep next to the King of Hell had definitely not been Dean’s plan. That would have been a monumentally stupid idea - sleeping with a demon was one thing, physically sleeping next to one, though... it was too much of a risk.

Therefore, waking up next to Crowley, he should have felt disconcerted, he should have been immediately alert and on his feet. He certainly shouldn’t be feeling... peaceful. He shouldn’t find an easy smile spreading over his face as he was filled with the desire to never move again.

“Morning, squirrel,” Crowley said softly when he saw that he was awake.

“Morning,” he mumbled in reply as he tightened his arms around the demon, pulling himself closer to him.

“Sleep well?”

“Mmhmm.” It was the best night’s sleep he had had in some time, as a matter of fact. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he had slept through the night like that.

“Good.” He placed his hand under Dean’s chin, tilting his head up so that he could press their lips together.

If a lifetime of hunting had taught Dean anything, it was to trust his instincts. And right now, his instincts were telling him that he was completely safe. Furthermore, he was happy. So, maybe falling asleep next to Crowley was a risk, but he took risks all the time, and this was definitely one that he could get used to taking.

@dauntlessdiva

[bestiesandagents]

Crowley pulling Dean into a heated kiss to distract him from pain. (Maybe Sam has to pop a bone back into a socket or something? That shit always looks like its painful af)

“What do you mean we’re out of whiskey?” Dean demanded. “How the hell are we out of whiskey?”

Sam made a bitch face that somehow still managed to retain a touch of sympathy. “Because you drank it all last night.”

Crowley gave an amused snort.

“This ain’t funny, Crowley!” Dean snapped, craning his neck to look at him from where he sat sideways in the motel room chair, gripping its back so hard that his knuckles were turning white. “Have you ever had a bullet dug out without anything to numb the pain?”

“Yes,” he retorted frankly. “As I recall, you stood there and watched.”

Sam sighed. “Dean, you’re just gonna have to grit your teeth and bear it. There’s nothing else for it.”

“Fine,” Dean grumbled, gritting his teeth as Sam knelt down to bring himself eye-level with his side, where he had been shot.

He prepared himself for the pain of Sam digging into the wound, but suddenly a pair of lips collided with his own. He could still feel the pain of Sam fishing out the bullet, but at least he had something else to distract him from it. He returned the pressure of Crowley’s lips, focusing on the sensation. Eventually, the pain started to fade, and a few seconds later, Sam cleared his throat.

Crowley pulled away, a faint smirk on his lips. “I hope that was an adequate substitute for whiskey.”

Dean could feel his cheeks heating up slightly, and he was pointedly avoiding looking down at his brother, though he could imagine all too well the look he was giving them. “Nothing is an adequate substitute for whiskey. But... it wasn’t half bad,” he admitted.

Crowley’s smirk turned into a genuine smile. “Still hurt?”

“Well, yeah, I was shot,” he said with a small chuckle.

“Well, then...” He started to lean in again, but was distracted by the sound of Sam hitting the table as he shot to his feet.

“I’m out,” Sam muttered, turning on his heel and making a beeline for the door.

[bestiesandagents]

Dean drunk dialing Crowley and leaving a message about how much he loves Crowley (either before they got together or at the start of their relationship) and fiercely denying it the next day. ("I was drunk. You cannot hold me to anything I say!")

Dean ran a hand over his face as he forced himself to sit up, willing the pounding in his head to go away.

“Morning, squirrel,” a voice rang out from the corner of the room.

He groaned. The demon was the last thing he needed to deal with right now. “What the hell are you doing here, Crowley?”

“Thought I ought to come by,” Crowley said casually as he stood from the chair. With a snap of his fingers, Dean’s hangover vanished. “Respond properly.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, a bit reluctantly. “Respond properly to what?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t remember calling me last night?”

A since of dread pooled in Dean’s stomach. “No. But I was drunk, so whatever I said-”

“You said,” Crowley interrupted him, his eyes dancing, “and I quote, ‘I kind of love you.’ You did say a few other things as well, but that was the gist of it.”

Silence filled the room as Dean’s brain launched into a chorus of, Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT! “You don’t actually think...?” But the satisfied and mildly amused expression on Crowley’s face answered Dean’s question before he could finish it. “C’mon, man. I was drunk. You can’t hold me to anything I said!”

“You sounded pretty earnest.” He took a step forward, his expression becoming more serious. “The way I see it, maybe you do love me - maybe you don’t. But that profession came from somewhere, and I think it’s only fair that I give you my response.”

“Your response?” he asked slowly, his heart pounding furiously.

He inclined his head slightly. “I love you too, Dean. I have for over a year now.”

Dean couldn’t do anything but stare at him in shock, trying to wrap his brain around what he had just said.

“With that, I’ll leave you be,” Crowley continued, “let you figure out if drunk you may be a little more perceptive than your sober self.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but before he could said anything, Crowley was gone. Great. Just great. Now he was going to have to call him to confess his love again.

Tagging: @dauntlessdiva

[bestiesandagents]

Dean getting kinda pissy about Dick insulting Crowley and claiming it's because "I'm the only one who gets to insult my boyfriend- I mean enemy. Definitely enemy."

“So, what went down between you and Dick, anyway?” Dean asked curiously. No way was Crowley helping them out of the goodness of his heart - something had to have gone down between him and the top dog Leviathan.

Crowley shrugged, feigning nonchalance whilst not quite looking at him. “I suggested we work together. He said something along the lines of he’d rather swim through garbage than shake hands with a bottom-feeding demon like me.”

“What?” Dean snapped, surprising even himself with the anger in his voice.

“And then he went on to describe just how much less than humans demons are - gold-digging whores, I believe he said.”

Sam snorted. “Can’t argue with him there.”

Crowley glared at the wall, while Dean rounded on his brother. “Hey!”

He blinked at him in surprise. “What?”

“We’re not going to agree with Dick,” he protested hotly. “I mean, sure, that might fit most demons, but Crowley’s not most demons!”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “Dean... you call Crowley the lowest of the low at least once a week.”

“Yeah, well, I’m the only one who gets to insult my boyfriend!” His eyes grew wide as he realized what he had just said. “I mean enemy!” he amended hastily. “Definitely meant... enemy....” He trailed off, the utter shock that was still on Sam’s face communicating clearly just how unconvinced he was.

Crowley chuckled behind him. “Smooth, darling. I’m touched, though - never knew you could be so defensive over me.”

“Shut up,” Dean groaned, running a hand over his face. “I’m getting some air. Neither of you follow me!” He stormed out the door of the cabin, slamming it shut behind him.

Before the door fully closed, he heard Crowley’s voice from inside the house, “So, moose - questions?”

This was just great.

Tagging: @dauntlessdiva

[bestiesandagents]

All I Want for Christmas is Drowley: Day 3 - Spiked Eggnog

So, this is set in an AU post season 12, where Crowley somehow got brought back to life and Jack brought Mary back.

A Winchester Family Christmas

This was shaping up to be the best Christmas Dean had had in... ever. Jack had helped them get their mom back just a couple weeks ago, and now she seemed determined that all five of them (she, Sam, Dean, Castiel, and Jack, that was) have a proper, family Christmas. And without the day being tainted by some impending doom, Dean found that he was able to enjoy the holiday more than ever before.

He sipped on the eggnog that Sam had made (which seemed to be more whiskey than eggnog, not that he was complaining), and watched with a fond smile as Sam and Mary taught Jack some Christmas traditions. Castiel was pretending to help, but Dean knew that he was learning just as much as his adopted son.

For all the joy of the day, though, something just felt... off. It was like something was missing. At first, Dean wondered if it was his dad, but it wasn’t like he and Sam had ever had a proper Christmas celebration with him, and he had made his peace with his death a long time ago. So, maybe it was just all the losses that he had suffered in general - that would make sense, even if that answer still didn’t feel quite right to him.

Maybe it was the surreal feeling of a family Christmas, or maybe it was the eggnog, but suddenly, Dean found himself with his phone in hand, dialing a familiar number.

“Squirrel,” Crowley greeted him, his voice a touch more subdued than usual - Dean probably wouldn’t have noticed it if he didn’t know Crowley so well. “Don’t tell me you’re working on Christmas.”

“No, I’m... we’re having a real, old-fashioned family Christmas.” He gave a disbelieving laugh at being able to say those words. “With a little bit of Winchester dysfunction thrown in on top, of course.”

He chuckled. “Then, why are you calling me? Bored of the festivities already?”

“No.” He breathed in a deep breath. Even though he hadn’t really known what he was doing as he dialed the demon’s number, the pieces had since clicked into place. “What do you do to celebrate Christmas?”

“I don’t,” Crowley said, his voice clearly confused. “I’m a demon, and it’s not like I have any fond memories of the day from when I was human.”

“Well, maybe it’s time you make some.”

There was a pause. “What are you saying?” he asked slowly.

“Come over.” Dean wasn’t sure why his heart was pounding so loudly as he said the words, but it was getting harder to hear himself over it. “We have more than enough food.”

“What’s the matter? Don’t have enough dysfunction, so you need to add a demon into the mix?” He was trying to joke, but it sounded strained.

“No, I just...” He sighed. Time to bite the bullet. “I want you here. You’re part of this family.”

The pause was longer this time, and when Crowley spoke again, his voice seemed rougher than usual. “I’m pretty sure your mother and brother disagree.”

“They’ll come to terms with it. Eventually.”

“I don’t know, squirrel...”

“Did I mention we have some really freakin’ strong eggnog?” he tried, determined not to give up.

He could almost hear Crowley’s smile break out across his face. “Whiskey or rum?”

“Whiskey, of course,” Dean scoffed in mock-offense.

He knew full well that the next pause was just Crowley’s attempt to draw out the suspense. “Well, I do have a gift I need to get to you somehow.”

The smile that had been spreading over his face faltered. “I didn’t get you anything...”

“Yes, you did,” he interrupted, his voice firm. “I’ll see you soon.”