Crowstiel Prompt: if Dean was annoyed at Meg flirting with Cas, then he should have know better than to agree to have Cas and Crowley in the same team again, with all their bagage and two years of doing God knows what together. Lots of Ust and references to their past together pls
(Sorry this took so long!)
After Dean had ganked Dick Roman, and with that the rest of the Leviathans, he and Castiel didn’t end up in purgatory. Instead, when Dick and the Leviathans ended up in Purgatory, they caused the realm to shudder, which collectively caused Hell to do so as well. In doing so, the cage holding Lucifer and Michael creaked open long enough for Lucifer to escape.
It hadn’t taken long for Lucifer to track Crowley down and Crowley was in dire straits of being defeated right then and there when Castiel suddenly arrived, using a sigil on his chest to send Lucifer to the other side of the world, and keep him away for enough time for Crowley to recuperate.
“You got to be freakin’ kiddin’ me,” Dean said loudly when Castiel arrived, Crowley leaning heavily against him. Bruised, bloodied, broken ribs, barely able to stand on his own two feet, he was a remarkably different king of Hell than the Winchesters remembered, but he was still the king of Hell and a major dickbag.
“Dean, he needs our help. Lucifer has returned. If he were to become king of Hell again, he would open the cage and restart the apocalypse.”
And while that shut Dean up, it didn’t mean that he had to be happy to see Crowley. Sam, the damn traitor, was already moving over to help Crowley to a chair, Castiel sticking to Crowley’s side like they were superglued together.
“Damn it, Cas,” Crowley hissed after he was sat on the chair, wincing noticeably, “Hurry the hell up. He could come back.”
“He will not return, Crowley. Sam, Dean, could you please set up the wards and sigils.”
They wouldn’t last forever, Dean knew. But he sighed a little dramatically, as Castiel pressed his fingers to Crowley’s forehead, healing his wounds. Dean pursed his lips, not liking how Castiel was practically in Crowley’s lap.
“Cas, darling, could you pass the angel knife,” Crowley said sweetly, wearing his white apron. A flame was set underneath a bowl, which was simmering gently.
“Don’t call me that,” Castiel intoned, but passed it anyway. Sam shot Dean a look from where Dean was cleaning the barrel of his own gun, which made Dean give Sam a glare in return. What? It wasn’t like Cas and Crowley were arguing like an old married couple or anything.
“Whatever floats your boat, kitten.”
“That either, demon.”
“Oooh, dirty talk. That always makes me hot and bothered, Thursday.”
“My speech was not intended to-“
“Your lips say no but your eyes say yes, yes, yes, sweetheart.”
“Cut it out!” Dean snapped suddenly, everyone looking over at him. Sam looked like he was going to laugh, the bastard, Crowley was looking annoyingly innocent, and Cas was… blushing?
Dean had a headache the size of goddamn Texas. It had been there since Crowley had landed on their freaking stoop. He was in the kitchen area, and the fridge door had been open for so long it was softly beeping. Sam was on the laptop behind him, grinning behind his hand. Dean didn’t know what was so goddamn funny. And Crowley and Cas were in the bedroom.
“You foul, twisted abomination. Do you know how close you came to becoming a pile of ash on the ground?”
“Don’t get your feathers in a twist, how the Hell was I supposed to know that the angel bullets wouldn’t work? I’m trying as hard as I bloody can, Cas.”
A loud crash made Dean practically run to the bedroom, hesitating at the doorway long enough to see Castiel pressed right up against Crowley, hand gripping the knot of Crowley’s tie.
“Don’t. Call me Cas.” he gritted through bared teeth, and Crowley gave a breathless little chuckle.
“This is always how it starts, isn’t it, Thursday? You throwing me against the wall, the filthy little threats. We always were such a great team, you and I.”
“You shut your mouth, demon.” Castiel growled.
“Why don’t you be a good little whore and make me, angel?” Crowley shot back, a delighted smile on his face at that particular prospect.
It was then that he noticed Dean standing slack-jawed at the doorway. Smirking, he raised a few fingers, sweeping them to the side to shut the door, just as Castiel seemed ready to flinch closer.
Dean was still standing in front of the closed door, red faced and his head pounding loudly, the bedroom now annoyingly quiet.
“You do know they’re totally doing each other, right?” Sam said casually from behind him.
“Shut up, Sam.” Dean said weakly, before proceeding to drink almost the entire bottle of beer he held in his hand. Hopefully that would drown out Sam’s stupid honking laugh. Or he’d throw the bottle at him.