Quick shout out to @ilovemesomemoose for inspiring my new Imagines header photo! Thank you!
Hell possessed an elite team of demons with a particular set of skills. These skills tended toward assassination, but the few who utilized them were volatile delicate types that dissuaded the head of Hell from using them to their full potential. In short, they were foul tempered elitists and Crowley simply had no desire to play to their egos. Today, however, he made the tactical decision to try. A certain witch bitch mother of his was dancing on his last nerve and he wanted his options open. He pushed into the lower dungeons, dark eyes surveying the room until he found you.
You were curled up on a blood stained threadbare couch, a pale blue light flickered over your face as you stared straight ahead twirling a knife against your thumb. Crowley straightened his shoulders and strode towards you. Your body language didn’t scream bloodshed, so he imagined you were in a slightly more agreeable mood than usual. He closed the distance between you with easy nonchalant strides. He paused at the edge of the sofa waiting for you to notice him, but your eyes remained fixed ahead. He followed your gaze with a quick glance, then froze with disbelief.
“Are you… watching a Disney movie?” He exclaimed. A sniffle brought his attention back to you. “And… you’re crying? What the bloody-”
“Who wouldn’t?” You gestured towards the television dramatically. “Sh-she thought he was her true love!”
You voice trembled into a bawl, tears making wet lines down your cheeks. Crowley stood utterly satan-smacked. His finest tool, sharpest weapon was blubbering over a cartoon. Insult to injury, it wasn’t even a cartoon in a franchise he had a finger in, despite the general public’s opinion. You sniffled rubbing your eyes, your sleeve dipped and a single feignt red pinprick caught his eye. He reached out stealing your wrist with firm gentle fingers. The heat from his skin stirred something beneath yours. A dark nostalgia crawled below your conscious circling for a soft place to breach, but found none. Your eyebrows screwed together in confusion and you looked back to the TV. He held your wrist out catching the lighting from the video. Without a doubt, it was needle tracks, but not from torture, but careful injection.
“How did you get this.” His deep voice vibrated in the intimate space pulling at the corners of your memory.
You shrugged. “Sh! It’s almost over.”
Crowley sighed. You absentmindedly patted the spot beside you when he released your wrist. He hesitated, slid his hands deep into his coat pockets, then leaned back to scan the empty room behind him. Tongue tucked in cheek, his eyebrows lifted as he considered the invitation. He moved hips first around the edge of the couch. The seat was softer than anticipated and he sank into the cushions uncomfortably. He readjusted watching the show with a critical eye. Push come to shove, he could justify the decision by reasoning it was research to try making a deal with the corporation. He scoffed as the show proceeded.
“Leaving him in charge? How moronic…”
A certain reindeer appeared on the screen.
“Oh, look. A Winchester.”
“Sh.” You replied leaning on his shoulder and tapping his lips with your fingertips. Instead of moving away, you settled into him. The scent of something acrid and biting swirled with a warmer headier smell you couldn’t place.
“What load of utter rubbish. Let the damn pile of frozen water melt and be done with this sentimental garbage.”
You hit his shoulder chidingly. He huffed setting down a notch. Your hair was tickling the scruff of his cheek, but he couldn’t bring himself to disturb your comfort. He clicked his tongue against his teeth as the movie came to a close.
“How surprising, a happy ending tied up with a neat little bow.” His head fell on the back of the couch.
He glanced at you as you straightened. You reached for a pile of DVDs by the foot of the couch. You shuffled through the titles looking for one to grab your attention. Crowley observed you for a long moment as your eyes absorbed the information of a movie with illustrated cats on the front. He sat up carefully searching for words.
“Love, where did you get that track mark?”
You didn’t look up from the stack of movies in your lap. “I think the girl did it.”
You hummed. “She uh, injected me with blood for some reason. I woke up right after. I wonder how I didn’t hear her come in.”
Crowley’s face fell in irritated realization. “Rowena. She must have known I was coming to you.”
You shrugged. “Let’s watch this one next.”
You slid off the couch slipping the disk onto your finger as you waited for the old one to eject. Crowley reasoned that if he complied with you now it would become easier to work with you later when the blood poison had worn off. If that meant suffering through another feel good cartoon, so be it. You plopped back into the couch next to him. He didn’t resist as you lifted his arm over your shoulder and curled into his side. Something in his chest twitched when you inhaled deeply.