Bureaucracy in Action
Disclaimer
Supernatural is an American television series, created by Eric Kripke, produced by Kripke Enterprises, Wonderland Sound and Vision and Warner Bros. Television, distributed by Warner Bros. Television
I'm writing this for fun and I'm not making any money from this. The lines quoted from the show are in Italics.
Story starts at the first meeting (we see) between Crowley and Naomi (season 8, episode 17, "Goodbye Stranger")
Prologue
Crowley was just a little bit annoyed. He didn't have the tablet, he had been put in the situation to destroy a demon he was fond of torturing, his suit had a hole in it and it was stained with blood. His shoulder was tingling, mending itself where his former favourite chew toy had stabbed him, but he didn't like to use supernatural influences on his clothes. He'd just have to visit his tailor sooner than planned.
And to top the crappy day, he was now sensing this particular angelic presence. He recognized it, even if it had been a while since the last time he'd been this close to this entity.
"Naomi. Fancy meeting you here. Haven't seen you in a dark age. Love the haircut."
He saw the small smile tugging the corner of her lips at his insolent tone. He was almost touched to hear concern in her voice when she asked
"How's the shoulder?"
"Just a flesh wound," he answered and wondered if her second, even briefer smile had it been just an automated response or had she got the Monty Python reference.
The rest of the conversation was a headache provoking exchange of words covering truths and worries on both sides.
In the centuries they had known each other, Naomi and Crowley had never outright lied to one another. Even when he teased her "If you remember our time in Mesopotamia the way I do, you know I'm a lover, not a fighter" he hadn't actually lied, although he had never been her lover. He would bet serious money that he was the only being who could claim to have come even close though.
He didn't resent her for disappearing at the end. His comment about her stealing his move was absent-minded. His huge, King of Hell size ego was saying that if she had stayed to hear his offer, she would have been unable to refuse.
He teleported to his current above ground deluxe suite and the thought that Naomi ran away because of his "I must have something that you want" line improved his mood tremendously. He decided that she disappeared because she did want something from him.
"You, celestial being, have been created to be an angel of the Lord", he hummed the Enochian words pouring himself a generous amount of scotch.
He sipped at it lazily as he undressed. In privacy, he often did human things like getting dressed and undressed instead of simply snapping his fingers to change wardrobe, or things like showering and enjoying the same brand of scotch for decades.
There were other remnants of his human self. Selling his soul had proven worthwhile, just not for the reason he had done it. From an abusive, unremarkable man, he had slowly risen to being the King of Hades. As homage to that choice, he had always been fussy about the bodies he chose to inhabit. He was particular about the quality of his clothes, and downright fastidious when it came to the physical attributes of his chosen vessel. He glanced at his current body in the mirror before stepping into the shower and he liked what he saw. Even relaxed, he was proud of the size of his… endowment.
He was completely contended with his present body. He would never pick someone extraordinary in any way that would be apparent at first, second or a hundredth glance. Anyone seeing him without clothes would find him extraordinary, but he had always managed to keep this from happening by accident. And if someone got to see Crowley naked, it was because he had planned it.
He realized that he hadn't wanted anyone to see his extraordinary side for a long, long time. For years, power had been such a wonderful sensation. For decades, scheming had been more rewarding than mere orgasms. Building up a reputation, creating alliances, betraying without the awareness of those he betrayed – so reinvigorating. It had made the time pass by without even noticing celibacy. Well, almost celibacy. He was a demon, after all.
He wondered about Naomi, how had she handled power and scheming for all those thousands of years. Angels were not immune to lust, the existence of nephilims was proof of that. But he didn't actually need proof. He had his memories.
He got out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his hips and walked onto the balcony of his penthouse suite, half naked and half drunk. Crowley raised his eyes to the stars that were sparking coldly on the black sky and went back in his memories.