A/N:

Since it's Mark Sheppard's birthday and my one year fanfic writing anniversary, I thought I'd write this little one-shot. I'm total Crowstiel trash at the moment, so do excuse me, but I honestly couldn't resist. Enjoy :)

While waiting for Dean to return to the motel with information on their current mission, Castiel and Crowley found themselves perched (awkwardly and nonchalantly, respectively) on the vaguely uncomfortable motel beds. If it weren't for the droning commentary of a historical documentary on the old fashioned television, Castiel would have probably left the room through mental and physical discomfort long ago. Even sharing the same room as a demon – and not just any old demon, may I just point out, the King of Hell – made the angel feel unclean.

"Beginning in 1665, the Great Plague killed between 75,000 and 100,000 people; up to a fifth of London's population…" As the slightly crackly voice of the TV continued, Crowley angled his face towards Castiel and grinned, raising his eyebrows. It was evident that the demon was revelling in the amount of death being recalled on the program, and Cas responded by simply glaring back at him uneasily, his gaze flicking from Crowley, to the ceiling, to his hands scrunched in a ball in his lap as the irony of such a documentary appearing on TV while he was in a room with the demon who had probably even had something to do with the 'Great Plague' washed over him like petrol. Well, the angel certainly felt like setting himself on fire, he was so irritated with Crowley already.

Before long, the King of Hell couldn't resist commenting on the program. "Ah. The good old days."

"Turn it off." Castiel commanded instantly, glaring daggers at the demon.

"Make me, sunshine." Although Crowley was tempted to make the obvious remark about how sexy it was when Cas ordered him about, instead he decided to increase the sexual tension with such a typical phrase. 'Make me'. It was one of Crowley's personal favourites, after all.

To reply, the angel refused to speak, instead simply raising his hand and clicking his fingers, causing the TV to fizzle with electricity as the screen went static and a small plume of smoke rose from the back of the technological device. Sighing, the demon casually chucked the TV remote onto the bed before turning back to Castiel. "Right! Let's chat."

Ignoring Cas' irritated eye roll, Crowley persisted to speak. "You were human, and now you're not."

"As were you." Castiel squinted at the demon.

"I was more human adjacent, whereas you… You went the whole way." Crowley paused for a moment, drinking in the angel's reflective expression. "Horrible, wasn't it?" He prompted.

After hesitating in his reluctance to even communicate with the King of Hell, Cas eventually answered, no matter how monosyllabically. "Yes."

"Right. Who wants to be a stupid, stinking, emotional pile of meat?" Crowley deadpanned. Silence descended like an unnecessary blanket once again, while Cas' blue eyes flickered over the demon's face and body, looking pensive and a little guilty. It was almost as if the angel felt… sorry for Crowley. But that couldn't be possible. He was an angel, after all; how could he ever feel sympathetic (well, empathetic) towards a demon?

Oblivious to Castiel's thoughts, Crowley huffed once more, raising his eyebrows at the angel. It was funny how much he could relate to the feathered poofter. It now became overwhelmingly noticeable how depressed the atmosphere had become in the motel room as the two supernatural beings desperately awaited Dean's return. To lighten the mood a little, and make the angel feel all the more perturbed, Crowley decided to flirt a little.

"Although, I have to admit, your meatsuit doesn't look all that useless, if you catch my drift. It's nice to know I'm not the only one with good taste in looks when going vessel-shopping." The demon then reverted to wiggling his eyebrows pointedly.

"Crowley…" Cas muttered in a threatening tone. "I don't appreciate you… flirting… with me, if that is the correct term."

To tease Castiel even more, Crowley threw in a curveball. "Don't flatter yourself, mate. I was complimenting your vessel, not you. Though I do admire an attractive fallen angel, I must say." The demon lowered his voice in his last sentence, his gruff tone enough to give anyone pleasant shivers. Everyone except Cas, it seemed. Rather than accepting Crowley's advances, the angel merely narrowed his eyes even more in confusion and suspicion.

Since he was starting to get frustrated with Castiel's lack of communication, the King of Hell turned on (no pun intended) his charm all the more, edging closer to Cas as he shuffled his butt along the bed. "I know you've got a thing for Squirrel, but tell me, Feathers: has he ever actually showed any true affection? I mean, I doubt he often lets you know how hot you are, not like I do…"

Though he knew Crowley was just screwing with him (yet again, no pun intended), Castiel could have sworn the demon was fluttering his eyelashes at him. Shifting anxiously, the angel maintained his awkward gaze as he replied. "I do not have a 'thing'" – at this point, he used air quotes – "for Dean. He and I share a profound bond, that is all."

"Is that so? Then I suppose you won't mind if I do this then…" Before the angel could protest, Crowley pulled Cas' head towards him forcefully and pressed his lips against his. The kiss completely caught Castiel off-guard, and as he struggled to pull away, he heard the sound of the motel door opening. At such a noise, Crowley was finally distracted enough to lever his lips apart from the angel's, and he whipped his head around too, his hand slipping away from behind Cas' head. They both caught sight of Dean simultaneously, who stood frozen in place, his mouth hanging wide open as his mind frantically scrambled to make sense of the scene that had just played out before him. However, before the poor, confused hunter could attempt to handle the situation, Cas leapt up from the bed and struggled to explain.

"Dean, this wasn't- We weren't- It's not- We're- This isn't w-what it looks like, Dean, I-I…" After unbearable stammering, Castiel eventually decided it was best to just trail off and let the event sort itself out. Meanwhile, Crowley simply remained seated, a smug smirk taking root on his face as he sadistically observed Cas and Dean's respective expressions.

For a few moments, Dean stood utterly still, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish as he kept beginning to say something, then thought better of it. His mind whirred like crazy until he finally decided what to say.

"As-as long as you two aren't making a deal, then I'm, uh, I'm cool with it, I guess." The Winchester awkwardly nodded, then rapidly left the room to ensure he couldn't get involved any longer. Castiel couldn't, however, un-see the single man tear that slipped down Dean's face as he exited the motel room.

In the silence that followed, Cas looked incredibly distraught about upsetting Dean. Then, Crowley heaved out a huge sigh as he got to his feet and strode over to the door.

"Well, that was dramatic. You coming, lover?" The demon chuckled as he stepped outside. When he strolled triumphantly past Dean, who was trying to cover up the fact that he'd just almost thrown up, Crowley rubbed it in even more by saying nothing, only giving the hunter a sly wink as he grinned.

As Cas' mind and muscles struggled to start working again, he also stood frozen in the centre of the motel room. Before long though, his burning rage concerning the King of Hell consumed him and thawed him out, allowing him to scream "I hate you, Crowley!" as he stormed out of the room, lights exploding behind him. It was undeniable that the angel would get Crowley back for that, sooner rather than later.

A/N:

Do review or PM me if you want more, I might continue this later at some point if people want it. Thanks for reading!