youplayyoupay  asked:

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.

anonymous asked:

how about some crowstiel. c: something cute involving Cas being sick and Crowley trying to figure out how to take care of him. anything along those lines sounds great! c:

Okay so with this one I just kind of went post-fall and maybe a little AU since Castiel didn’t really stay with Sam and Dean that long. So I hope this is okay! I couldn’t really get too fluffy with these two.

The bunker was quiet with Sam and Dean gone on a hunt, but Castiel didn’t really mind. He liked the quiet, it let him think about things. And now that he had all but become powerless he spent a lot of time thinking. He was grateful that the brothers had taken him in after the fall and allowed him his own room in their bunker, it was almost as if he had a family of his own.

Of course, the silence wasn’t long lasting because there was a muffled grumble from a few rooms away. With a sigh Castiel stood and made his way towards the very back of the bunker, sliding open a door to a dark room.

“Took you long enough angel, what was the hold up?” Crowley was shrouded in a small light from the cracked door and Castiel just scowled at him from a few feet away.

“How about you be a darling and let me stretch my legs?”

“You know I am not to do that Crowley. I’m not falling for your tricks.” Castiel’s gruff voice spoke back in return as he turned to leave the room again. But before he was able to get all the way out he broke out into a coughing fit.

“Oh my, that sounds awfully—human.” Crowley sneered with a twang of interest.

“I believe it is only a cold,” was said as Castiel shut the door, “I will be fine.”

A few hours went by and Castiel’s cough only worsened and a touch to his forehead made him realize that he skin was very hot and clammy. He had no way to leave the bunker unless he walked and walking to a hospital was very much out of the question. That only left him with one choice.

The door slid open slowly and Castiel leaned up against the wall at the opening, peering at Crowley. “I need your help.”

“Thought you’d never ask love. That’s not just a cold you’ve got there. Now you know you’re going to have to let me out if you expect any help from me at all.”

Of course Castiel had planned on it. Hopefully Crowley wouldn’t try anything because if he did Castiel would have no choice but to let him go. He was powerless and right now it took all his strength to even stand.

He made his way over to Crowley, pulling the key he had scoured the bunker for out of his pocket and undoing each lock that was holding Crowley to the chair before rubbing a piece of the trap painted on the floor away with his foot.

“Show me where the bathroom is and your room as well.”

Castiel did as Crowley asked, taking him first to the bathroom where Crowley stocked up on certain things then back to his own room. It was very empty since he really had nothing of his own. The only things in the room were the bed, a small table by it, and a chair in the corner.

Crowley instructed Castiel to lost the coat, tie and shoes and get into bed underneath the blankets. Castiel was hesitant but Crowley hadn’t attempted to harm him yet, so maybe he was to be trusted…for now.

“Better be glad I’ve been around many things over my years angel. Too bad you don’t have any of your angel juice left, could have saved yourself the trouble.”

Castiel nodded and made no comment about his loss of powers. Crowley had noticed it as soon as he saw Castiel after the fall and had mentioned it every time he was around.

“If you try to poison me or anything else Sam and Dean will find you.”

This was met with a loud chuckle from Crowley. “Oh believe me, if I wanted to poison you I would already have it over with.”

Crowley made Castiel take a string of medicines that did not have a pleasant taste to them at all and every time Castiel made a sour face it only made Crowley laugh at him.

“You are thousands of years old and you are making a face at human medicine. My how the mighty have fallen.”

Castiel shot the demon a look that made Crowley throw his hands up in defense. “Right, I’ll shut up about that then.”

For a moment Crowley just stood by Castiel’s bed after he had finished giving him the last dose of the medicine. They were both quiet and just sort of staring off at nothing in particular. Crowley moved across the room, grabbed the chair in the corner and pulled it up next to Castiel’s bed.

“What are you doing? Sam and Dean will be angry if they come back and you are out of your restraints.” Castiel’s brows knitted together with concern and he began to try to get out of bed to take Crowley back to the room.

“Don’t worry love, I’ll make sure they don’t find out” the demon spoke in return and pushed the ex-angel back down onto the bed, hand lingering against his chest a moment, the man was running a horrid fever.

Finally Castiel calmed back down. There wasn’t much he could do to make Crowley go back at this point. The little movement that he made had ended up leaving him with the entire room spinning around him. Eventually he felt his eyelids becoming heavier and before he knew it he was asleep.

Crowley stayed by Castiel’s bedside, leaning in to place his palm to the other man’s forehead every so often to check that his fever was breaking. When he was satisfied with the temperature Castiel had went back to he stood from the chair to finally stretch his limbs and walk around the room for a few minutes.

A rumble outside and voices jerked Crowley out of his stride and he booked it back through the bunker to the dark room he had been chained in.

When Sam and Dean came back in they found Castiel fast asleep, medicine by his bedside. And they found Crowley chained back to the chair sitting in the dark room exactly as they had found him.

Of course, in the dark they didn’t notice the broken trap on the floor, but Castiel would fix that the next day when he came back to Crowley to thank him. And over the rest of his time there whenever the brothers went out he always unchained Crowley and they walked around the bunker together so the demon could stretch his limbs. Always to return back as he was to not raise suspicion.

It had been months since Castiel had fallen sick, and there had been no mention of the brothers suspecting a thing.

Be Gentle

A/N: Can we just call this Crastiel? Because that’s what I keep calling this ship xD

Request: crowley x castiel where crowley wants to do the do but cas doesnt know what to do?

Be Gentle

Things were leading up to this and Castiel isn’t a fool. Of course he knows what Crowley has planned for their date tonight. His hands are shaking, trembling, and he blames his borrowed grace when Dean asks about it.

“Cas, we need to do something about this.” Dean wouldn’t let it go. However annoying his persistence is, Castiel is grateful that his friend cares so much about him.

“I can handle it.” Castiel says again. “I’m just-“

“You’ve been saying crap like that ever since your grace started failing you.” Dean takes a long sip of his beer and stares Cas down.

“You’re right.” Cas concedes. “But- I can’t just steal more grace. It’s complicated, Dean.”

“No, it’s not.” Dean stands. “Go take out one of those rogue angels Hannah keeps bugging you about and juice up, man!”

“So I am to decide who lives and who dies to make sure that I live?” Castiel expects this sort of behavior from Hannah, but he didn’t think Dean would resort to this. “It’s not my place to decide who lives and who dies, Dean. The reason any of this started is because of me, and I shouldn’t make the rest of the angels suffer for my own sake.”

“Cas-“ Dean pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, “you can’t just give up, man.”

“I’m not giving up.” Castiel stalks away. “I’m trying to find an alternative.”

Although he knows he doesn’t have enough mojo to get himself back to the bunker the same way, Castiel flies away. He can already sense Dean’s regret at his words and makes a mental note to make sure Dean understands that Castiel isn’t mad at him. Just frustrated.

Their date is scheduled in another twenty minutes and Castiel is surprised to find Crowley already waiting for him. That same devilish grin he gets every time his eyes settle on the angel makes Castiel forget his confrontation with Dean entirely. Crowley takes a moment to see his angel. Not just look at him, but see him. Castiel’s cobalt blue eyes never cease to shine and it feels like the first time every time he sees them. He never got bored of seeing Castiel in his trench coat and tie. He likes the tie most of all because he can use it as a means to pull Castiel closer without touching him. The anticipation and nervousness that it creates in his angel is almost as good as the kisses themselves.

“Someone’s eager.” Crowley’s voice is low and intimate, and he knows Cas likes it that way.

“I wasn’t the first one here.” Castiel couldn’t stop a red hot blush from rising to his cheeks when Crowley takes his tie and pulls him closer.

“That’s irrelevant.” Their noses brush and Castiel pulls away slightly.

“Actually, that’s very relevant.” He tilts his head in confusion and Crowley smiles. He kisses his angel tenderly.

“Are you ready?” Crowley laces their fingers together, ready to take him to Italy.

“I guess so.” Casitel coughs. “I can’t go with my-“

“I know.” Crowley’s brow creases with worry, but he’s quick to hide it. This night is going to be special. He doesn’t want Castiel to know how worried he is for him, that would only make him feel guilty. Crowley wants Cas to have at least one night where he doesn’t have to worry about his failing grace, or the Mark, or anything but his own feelings and desires that will be met without the slightest hesitation.

A breath later, they are standing in front of a cute Italian restaurant. It’s a corner shop and doesn’t have very many patrons. Prior to their plan to come here for their date, Crowley had drawn sigils to make it almost invisible to both angels and demons unless they knew exactly where to go. Castiel wants their love secret, and Crowley respects his wish for discretion.

After they are seated, Crowley orders for both of them, something he knows Castiel will like.

“You look amazing.” Crowley whispers. He shamelessly stares at Castiel and lets his eyes linger on places he can’t wait to see.

“Thank you.” Castiel blushes and looks away bashfully. Desire is clear in Crowley’s eyes and he knows exactly what’s running through the demon’s head. His hands are shaking again and he hides them under the table. “You- are very handsome yourself.”

Crowley smirks and Castiel’s vessel reacts in a way that deepens the shade of red on his face. Crowley doesn’t have to see to know that the night is going according to plan.

Their meals are served and they make light conversation while they eat. Castiel has more than a fair share of stories about Sam and Dean, although he doesn’t divulge anything that could help Crowley in his attempts to foil the Winchesters plans.

“Was he really drooling?” Crowley laughs.

“Yes.” Castiel chuckles softly. “Dean loves pie. Sam burned it, but Dean was gracious and ate it anyway. Although, I think he threw most of it away after Sam went to bed.”

Crowley laughs again and wipes his mouth. They’d all but finished their dinner and he raises his eyebrows. “Do you feel like getting dessert?”

“Um-“ Castiel doesn’t know what he feels. He’s so comfortable around Crowley, yet he’s dreading what he knows Crowley wants. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Crowley or that he doesn’t want it himself, it’s his lack of experience in anything remotely close to this. Once with a reaper, but that was different. He didn’t feel as strongly then as he does now. Staring into Crowley’s exquisitely green eyes, Castiel can’t decide. “Yes. I would very much like dessert.”

“Of course.” Slightly disappointed, but nonetheless willing to wait, Crowley orders the next course for them. The only thoughts that occupy his mind are what Castiel’s lips will taste like when they finally get out there. Crowley made sure to order something different from Cas. He wants to be surprised. Only when Castiel stopped eating his dessert did Crowley notice his trembling hands.

“Are you alright?” Crowley takes one of Castiel’s hands. “You’re shaking, love.”

“I’m just- nervous.” Castiel admits.

“About what?” Crowley squeezes his hand reassuringly.

“I know- what you want.” Castiel looks at his plate, suddenly losing a taste for the sugary dessert.

“And- you don’t want to.” Crowley’s heart sinks, but he doesn’t let his disappointment show.

“I do.” Castiel says quickly. “I- I do. I’m just-“

Suddenly, they are no longer in the restaurant. Extravagant furniture and ornate rugs fill a penthouse hotel room. The lights are dramatic and they highlight the best features on both men.

“I’ll be gentle.” Crowley promises.

“I’m just afraid that-“ Castiel pulls away and turns from Crowley, “I’m afraid that I won’t be enough- for you.”

Crowley’s arms wrap around Castiel’s waist and his lips find Cas’s neck. “You couldn’t disappoint me, darling.” He explores Castiel’s chest with his hands tenderly and removes the trench coat, all the while warming Castiel up with soft kisses and gentle bites.

Castiel’s nerves are near breaking point when Crowley slowly slips off his tie. His body cries out desperately for Crowley, but he fear returns with more strength than he thought possible. He turns to face Crowley and makes him meet his eyes. Searching for a reason to say no, Castiel studies Crowley’s face. It’s clear that he could search all night and not find one reason to say no aside from his own fears that he would disappoint his lover and he takes Crowley’s face in his hands and kisses it ardently. Renewed energy fills his body, not unlike that of stealing grace but it didn’t have the pureness that grace held. This is rebellious and that’s one of the many secret reasons Castiel fell in love with the King of Hell.

Crowley’s fingers are fast and they unbutton Castiel’s shirt almost effortlessly. He pulls it off of Castiel’s shoulders and arms before ever so slowly tugging it out of his waistband, stimulating a response that scares Castiel. His trust in Crowley defeats his fears and he allows Crowley to lead him to the king-sized bed that lay just beyond two oak doors. Slowly lowering themselves onto the bed, Castiel removes Crowley’s tie slowly, cautiously.

“That’s right.” Crowley reassures him. “I can get the jacket if you want to start with the buttons, love.”

Grateful for Crowley’s instruction, Castiel fumbles with the buttons on Crowley’s shirt, making him laugh. Too quickly, Castiel removes Crowley’s shirt and his hands get stuck. Cas blushes, Crowley kisses him harder and frees himself from his clothing.

“Would you like to the honors, or shall I?” Crowley tugs at Castiel’s belt and an alarming sensation shoots through him.

“Please.” Castiel breathes. Crowley kisses Castiel’s neck again and again, all the while working the belt off of Castiel’s body. Then the buttons of his pants and Castiel grips his hands tightly, his old fears returning.

“What is it?” Crowley moves down to Castiel’s chest, embarrassing the angel with the blatant desire that he’s being shown.

“I don’t know what to do.” Castiel is filled with regret.

“You don’t have to.” Crowley whispers, gently working his fingers into the angel’s waistband.

“But what if-“

“I’ve already got what I want.” Crowley says. “This is about you. Let loose, pretty boy. Anything you want.”

Castiel wants a lot and even more now that Crowley has moved his lips to his waist.

“Anything?” Castiel can hardly think over the demands of his pulsing libido.

“Anything.” Crowley’s promise sends lusty shivers down Castiel’s spine. Only a moment of indecision passes before Castiel’s fears are vanquished and the two embrace the passion that now holds them captive. Every need and want is met, and Castiel’s doubts are gone before the night is over.


anonymous asked:

Prompt: Cas finds out Sam killed Crowley's hellhound and calls a truce and gets Crowley a new one because there are lines you don't cross and killing a man's dog is one.

This is slightly AU, and probably a bit sucky, but sue me. I expanded on your request a little bit.

When Castiel found out that Sam had killed Crowley’s dog, he was horrified.

“Sam, do you realise what you’ve done?” he said, eyes wide, even going as far to take a few steps back. Sam looked back at him, a puzzled expression on his face before looking over at Dean, giving a shrug.

“I don’t know what the big deal is, it’s just a dog—”

“You don’t know…” Castiel sighed, pursing his lips, “demons can’t have children. They can control the vessel of a child and call it their own, but it is not the same. When a demon is particularly powerful, as a gift it is given the chance to have ‘children’, though they are not really children. They take the form of large invisible dogs, who would gladly lay their lives on the line for their masters. Hellhounds.”

The hunters still looked puzzled, and Castiel shook his head, it was difficult for them to comprehend. Castiel had been with Crowley for two years when they were searching for Purgatory, and during that time he had gotten to know the king of Hell and how he ticked, his likes, his dislikes, his weaknesses and strengths. There were some that Castiel had not told the brothers about, thinking they wouldn’t understand, and this just proved him right.

“The dog you killed… was his son. His oldest and dearest. Demons are abominations under the eyes of the Lord, but there’s a reason that hellhounds are invisible, and exceedingly difficult to kill. You’re not supposed to. Even the angels frown upon doing such a monstrous deed. Imagine walking into somebody else’s house and murdering their child.”

“But he was attacking—”

“—because he was ordered to. There are ways of subduing a hellhound, but as soon as you kill one…” Castiel sighed, shaking his head. “The hound will continue to haunt you. In the quietest moments of your sleep you will hear its howl, like a sad puppy calling for its master. In the darkest of night you will see it as a pup, innocent and newborn, before it’s killed once again at your hand. And the howls and the visions will get more and more distressing until you lose your mind.”

The brothers seemed to look worried now, Sam looking like he was going to be sick.

“I need to find Crowley. There was no need for things to go this far. We need to put an end to it.” Especially if it meant getting rid of Naomi. The brothers not objecting, Castiel disappeared.

Crowley was holding the collar in his hands, his hound’s fresh blood on it. Achilles was his name, and Lucifer had given it to him centuries ago for his skills on the crossroads. He closed his eyes, remembering brushing his fur, feeling his sandpaper tongue licking over his face, seeing him rip apart his victims, chasing lacklustre minions.


In a flash, Crowley had the angel blade pressed up against Castiel’s neck, the tip threatening to puncture skin.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right here and now, you little swine,” he spat, rage and hurt rolling off him like a cloud.

“I’ve come to apologise. I realise I did not apologise to you properly since I betrayed you. A plastic bag of honey would not have been sufficient. I heard what Sam Winchester did.”

Crowley didn’t move, eyes still angry, and regarding the angel. He was owed an apology, then again, Crowley thought he was owed the angel grovelling, begging for forgiveness, but he was still listening.

“I want a truce. We both know Naomi is our biggest threat, and as I recall, we worked very well as a team.”

“A truce isn’t going to bring my dog back, Cas,” Crowley said, and he hated himself for beginning to buckle, but damnit, every time he closed his eyes, he saw Achilles dying.

“No, it won’t,” Castiel admitted, disappointment evident in his tone of voice, and Crowley’s grip on the angel blade slackened somewhat, “but there’s no reason why you can’t begin anew.”

Crowley was about to ask what Castiel meant, when Castiel was rummaging in the inner pocket of his trenchcoat, and withdrawing a furry black and rusty red bundle. It blinked up at Crowley curiously, letting out an irritated snuffle. It hadn’t liked being hidden in a trenchcoat.

“It’s obviously just a dog. But I researched hellhounds on the way over here. They can be created. Given the right breed of dog, and the necessary power behind the demon, which should not be a problem for you, they can be transformed into hellhounds. And if you desire, they can retain their normal form when you choose, if you want it to catch prey off guard.”

Crowley stared at the pup for a few moments, Castiel giving him a similar look on the puppy’s face, a pleading, adorable look that tugged at heartstrings Crowley hadn’t known he had. Slowly, Crowley put the angel blade away and gently took the dog from Castiel.

“It’s a good dog,” he commented, a german hunting dog, if he wasn’t mistaken. It was small now, but it had the potential to grow big and strong. And it would make a good hellhound, no doubt about it.

“I am truly sorry for what happened, Crowley,” Castiel said again, looking almost wounded, “the Winchesters did not understand, did not know the origin of hellhounds, and what they mean to a demon. I understand you still want retribution and revenge against what happened to your hellhound, your son.  The act would be unnecessary though, as you know that a curse falls upon anyone who slays a hellhound, even one as old and powerful as—”

“Achilles,” Crowley said softly, still staring at the pup in his arms, which was wriggling around with a vaguely annoyed expression on his face, before panting happily when it got into a good position, “he was… a good dog. I didn’t think you’d remember.”

“Of course I remember. You talked about him all the time, when you weren’t mocking everything I live and stand for,” a flicker of a smile started to pass across Castiel’s face.

“We had some good times, angel,” Crowley finally looked up at him, a small smile of his own beginning to form. The puppy seemed to remind him of himself, somehow, though it could have just been the rusty brown-red look in his eyes.

“There isn’t a reason why we can’t do it again. It will take something of extreme magnitude to defeat Naomi. She will not expect us to join forces once again. Please, Crowley. Let me make up for my mistakes.”

But Crowley just smiled, as he felt the puppy’s tiny sandpaper-like tongue licking over his hand, feeling like Achilles had never been killed at all.

“You already are, darling.”

The smile was still on Crowley’s face when Castiel leant in and kissed him. Breaking away slowly as though nothing had happened, Castiel looked at the puppy, who had leapt out of Crowley’s arms deftly and was sitting up on the floor, glancing at the two of them with an almost amused expression on its face.

“What are you going to call him?”

“Growley.” Crowley started to grin, pulling the angel back over to him and eliminating the space between them once again with another, more possessive kiss.

Go Team Crowliel!

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anonymous asked:

prompt: Cas and Crowley slow dancing

(Hope this is okay! It’s pre-Godstiel/betrayal story arc)

There’s some slow music playing, when Castiel answers Crowley’s call to him. Since they had both come to accept their relationship of sorts, which wasn’t the standard sort of relationship when you came to think of it for numerous obvious reasons, Castiel rarely strayed from the King’s side, unless Crowley needed to concentrate on torturing alphas.

The slow tones emanate from an old gramophone that’s set up on the night stand, Castiel’s been sent to Crowley’s living room. The atmosphere is dark, save for a fireplace crackling quietly, throwing orange-red flares of light gingerly around the room.

“Took you long enough,” came the easy drawl that Castiel had grown so accustomed to. He turned from where he’d landed to see Crowley right behind him. Since their relationship had turned sexual, with the usual flares of give and take, and blasphemes and the like, Castiel had learnt to not be surprised by anything new. And this was certainly new.

“I apologise, I needed to—” but he was silenced by a finger to his lips, before Crowley’s other hand snaked around to move Castiel’s arm so it rested gently on Crowley’s hip. The height difference was strange, as it usually was, but in a strange way it seemed to fit.

“Enough talk. Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight, Cas?”

Which was when Castiel noticed that they were no longer in the living room, but seemed to be in some sort of open field. The moon was bright and strangely blue, partially hidden amongst the silvery clouds. Castiel frowned for a moment, the usual confusion marring his features, because he could still hear the gramophone, but couldn’t see it anymore. The slow comprehension that this was merely an illusion that Crowley had shown him made the confusion ebb away, letting Crowley’s other hand take his own so that they were holding each other.

“I asked you a question, love,” Amusement slithered onto the demon’s face, and Castiel swallowed hard, shaking his head. The question had seemed rhetorical. “just relax. Let me lead.”

And Castiel had watched the world for aeons, seen the first space explorers take their tentative steps onto the lunar planet that Crowley and he were currently partaking in dance underneath. He’d seen the great pyramids formed, watched civilisations rise, fall, and rise once again. He’d watched people love, hate, die, and the cycle repeat. But he’d never danced.

So slowly, he let Crowley lead him in step, Crowley softly muttering where for Castiel to put his feet, and scolding him lightly but with his usual stereotypical bite when Castiel’s foot lightly scuffed against Crowley’s, in a confused misstep. But slowly, surely, Castiel learns, his movements become easier, and he doesn’t need the king to tell him where to move his feet, because he’s learning. And with Crowley’s power, he could have made time stand still, and they could have been slowly dancing under the pale moonlight for aeons themselves.

But when Castiel feels Crowley’s head slowly dip and lean lightly against his chest, easily, as though this was the only ulterior motive he’d had in mind, Castiel quietly admits, with the tiniest of smiles, that he’d gladly dance with him for aeons more.