I own nothing. Just writing for fun. I had an idea for this and the darn characters keep twisting and turning the scenes away from where I'm trying to guide them. Please be gentle with reviews as I'm still working through character development here ^_^' feedback is certainly appreciated and will likely help me gauge the direction of this pairing. This story will be 2-3 chapters, so it's definitely "in progress" for now.
Thanks for reading!
The sun was too hot and Sam was just waiting for another breeze to pass so he wouldn't faint from heat exhaustion. He hadn't brought any water with him on this impromptu run. Seeing Dean and Castiel take off on another possible tip to taking down Amara, he had to do something productive to take his mind off of it.
'I'm not weak,' he thought to himself as he started running faster. He couldn't shake their comments from earlier.
"You need to stay here and lie low," Dean had told him.
"But if she does come for you while you're trying to find a way to kill her, isn't it better if we have more people to fight?"
"Dean's right, Sam," Castiel said. "We know she won't kill Dean and he can distract her if I need to leave, but you'd be caught in the crosshairs of a very dangerous-"
"Fine! I get it," Sam snapped.
Thinking back on it only reopened the wounds he was physically trying to run from. Would he hold them back in the battle against the darkness? If the visions he was having were from God, if he were meant to be back in the cage with Lucifer, to let Lucifer...
They wouldn't see him as a liability then. He stopped when he realized he didn't recognize where he was. He had just taken off running from the bunker, not paying any attention to the forest he had been mercilessly tearing through.
"Well... shit," he exhaled then leaned forward, placing his hands on his thighs to catch his breath. Sweat soaked his tshirt and his hair was matted to his face. He was glad he was isolated in the woods where nobody would see him.
He stood up straight and arched his back, reaching his arms up over his head, stretching.
"Lovely day for a jog, isn't it Moose?" Sam's eyes opened as he searched for that familiar voice.
He turned to find Crowley behind him, smirking.
"What do you want, Crowley?" Sam practically spat the last word, disgusted by the demons presence.
"You're the one regularly trying to kill me, you know. I'm just looking for your brother and his boyfriend. The angel is hiding them and I have information that could help us all obtain our mutual goal."
"Too little too late. They've already left on another lead," Sam turned away from Crowley and continued to stretch, pretending the demon wasn't there.
"Putting on a show for me, Moose?"
"Bite me, Crowley," the hunter said through clenched teeth.
Crowley reached up to grab a fistful of Sam's hair and pulled his head back at a painful angle, "that can be arranged."
Sam spun away from him, breaking his grip. "I'm not in the mood for your empty threats. Why don't you go back to hell?"
"I know you hate me, but you seem more angry than usual. What's wrong? Jealous the boys left you behind?"
When Sam sneered, Crowley raised an eyebrow. "And here I was only teasing. That's it, then? You didn't chose to stay here?"
"No, apparently it's too... they didn't think... Why the hell does it matter to you?" Sam had to keep himself from slipping up, not wanting to give the manipulative demon anything he could use against him or Dean later.
The king of hell shrugged. "It doesn't. Dean's my bestie. Not you."
"Ya know what, fuck you, Crowley." Sam turned and took off jogging back toward what he was certain was the bunker.
When Crowley appeared in front of him and pushed him backward, Sam fell hard. His lower back met with immediate pain and once he regained some composure, he glared up at the smiling demon.
"What the hell was that for?" He shouted as he sat up halfway, leaning on his right arm to prop himself up.
"You wanna be besties with me? Is that what set you off?" Crowley was still very obviously taunting Sam, but Sam no longer cared.
"Why you? Why Cas? Even Jo!" He was standing up slowly now, brushing the leaves off of him as he did. He was looking at himself, avoiding Crowley, brushing at imaginary leaves and dirt now. "Why does everyone love Dean so much? I get why. He's my brother. I know why he's so likable. But why so much more than me?" He finally looked up at the demon. His look was still angry, despite the desperation in his voice.
"Sorry, Moose. He's just more fun."
Sam ran a hand through his hair before realizing it was still damp with sweat. He sighed, patted down his hair as best he could and then looked back at Crowley. "So what now? Why are you still here? You want Dean and he's gone so leave."
Crowley had narrowed his eyes, watching Sam carefully now.
"I don't have anything pressing to do until they return. You and I haven't spent much quality time together other than when you've tried to end me."
Sam laughed bitterly. "You want to hang out with me? Thought I wasn't fun."
Crowley shrugged again. "Maybe you aren't. I had Dean singing karaoke with the mark of Cain on his arm. Maybe I can loosen you up a bit."
"I don't need loosening up, ok? I can be fun too."
"Then show me," Crowley said before they were both transported to a nearby bar.
"No, I shouldn't..." Sam was suddenly nervous as he searched the bar for the nearest exit.
"And this is why everyone loves Dean more." Crowley sat at a table and picked up a drink menu.
The reverse psychology seemed to work and Sam sat across from him, clearly irritated.
"Just... just don't let me drink too much."
"Don't worry. If you drink yourself to death, I'll make sure your warped soul returns as a demon. It was always your destiny to lead a demon army, wasn't it?" He grinned, watching Sam's reaction over the menu.
"Shut up." The anger was back for a second and then gone again as he took on a serious tone. "And no, it's just that when I drink... I already think like Dean; we are brothers, after all. But when I drink, I actually act like Dean. He's the only one who knows to keep an eye on me when I've had a few too many." Sam met the demon's eyes and could tell he still didn't understand. "I kind of need to, ya know."
"I don't. Go on."
"You know how there are happy drunks and sad drunks and funny drunks?" When Crowley didn't answer, Sam continued, "I get... a little, well, I get," he ran his fingers through his hair, exasperated. "I get horny. I have to have sex with someone."
Crowley laughed. "Really? Is that all? That's why you don't want to drink too much? Well if you want to sing karaoke or bang the waitress, I won't stop you either way. We came here to have some fun. So let's do it."
Sam sighed and buried his head on his hands as the waitress approached.
"Scotch, neat. And three shots of whatever the strongest vodka you have back there for my friend here."
Seven shots later, Sam couldn't stop grinning. Crowley was thoroughly enjoying the show. While Sam shamelessly flirted with every man or woman who approached them, Crowley needed nothing more than to sit back and sip his drink.
"Alright, I give up," Sam looked to Crowley, smiling, "why are we here?"
Crowley looked away as though he were thinking, then made eye contact with the hunter. "I think you've redeemed yourself, Moose. You are certainly more entertaining than I gave you credit for."
"Well I live to serve the king." He laughed loudly and then took another shot. Crowley was pleased that his response wasn't angry and bitter as he had come to expect. "Ya know, this really is fun." He downed another shot and Crowley raised an eyebrow. "I prayed and prayed for years. Dean never did. Not until he met Cas. And somehow, even though he's the one constantly scamming credit cards and lying to civilians for years, he's the vessel for heaven? Like what the shit is that? I belong in hell. You and I should have been friends, Crowley. Not you and Dean. I was destined for hell the moment my mother met yellow eyes." Another shot was downed and Crowley made the internal decision to not order any more.
"And my bitch of a mother left me little choice other than to become pure evil," Crowley held up his drink in an imaginary toast before taking a sip. "Best not to fight our nature, Moose."
Sam nodded and then looked out around the bar, taking it all in. He was grinning like an idiot until another man approached their table.
"Why don't you two fags go somewhere else? This is no place for perverts." Sam stared up at him, confused.
The newcomer only stood maybe 5'4" or 5'5" and Crowley debated simply asking Moose to stand in an attempt to scare the little bugger off. His hair was short and dark black and he wore a teal polo shirt with khaki shorts. Crowley only responded by rolling his eyes and looking back to Sam. When Sam didn't take his eyes off the new guy, Crowley snapped his fingers to get his attention.
"Focus, Moose." At that, Sam looked over to Crowley and it hurt Crowley more than he cared to admit to see such sadness in the hunter's eyes. "Look, frat boy," Crowley casually glanced over at him, "he made no unwanted advances and Moose isn't the type to seek unrequited love. Just not his style. Run along now and I won't have to string you up in the darkest dungeon in hell for threatening my friend."
The frat boy laughed. "Yeah, ok, you gothic piece of shit." It was Crowley's turn to look confused. "If you're threatening me, you should know my dad's a cop and I will press charges."
"I suggest you leave," Crowley's voice had taken on a dangerously dark tone, "now."
Sam looked back to the newcomer, obviously attempting to follow the conversation through a heavy cloud of alcohol. "You might wanna listen to him," Sam reached up a hand to the man's shoulder in a friendly gesture. "He could kill you in like 2 sec-"
Sam never got to finish his sentence as the man shoved him out of his chair and Sam, being more than a bit intoxicated, crashed to the floor. "Don't touch me, fag!"
Crowley stood so fast that he knocked his chair over and his lips were pursed as he watched the man suddenly struggle to breath.
"Crowley," Sam called weakly from the floor, "don't. He's not worth your time."
"You're right," Crowley said. The man's neck snapped and Crowley stepped over his dead body. "That's about as much fun as we should have for one evening." He looked back to Sam, who was picking himself up off the floor now.
Sam studied the dead body in front of him. "You," he looked up at Crowley then back at the man on the ground, "killed him. Why?"
"He deserved it. Again, Moose, we shouldn't fight our nature. Just because you and I are pal-ing around doesn't mean I will stop being a demon."
Sam was walking toward Crowley now and as he came near enough, Crowley began walking toward the exit with Sam following him. The rest of the bar seemed to not have noticed their exchange with the stranger.
"No, I mean why kill him. He was being an ass, but still." The event had sobered the younger Winchester, even if only for a moment.
"I'm actually flattered he assumed you and I were a couple. I'd like to think I could still attract a man like you. Truth be told, I just don't care for disrespect." He wouldn't tell Sam that he had seen red when the man shoved him. That the insults hadn't hurt him, but Sam's reaction to them had. "Now, we have a bit of a dilemma."
"Besides the dead body?" They were outside now, standing in the cool night air. Sam briefly remembered that he needed a shower and change of clothes hours earlier. He would tend to that at the bunker later..
"My demons can handle that," Crowley said as he reached for his phone and began exchanging text messages with said demons. "No," he didn't look up from his phone, "I mean our problem with returning you to the bunker in this state. The stench of alochol is all over you."
"I've drank before. They won't know I wasn't alone."
"I'm not letting you out of my sight, Moose." Crowley was insistent and the two were suddenly in a cheap motel room several miles from the bunker. "Sleep it off and then you can go home."
Sam smirked and then gently placed a hand on Crowley's face and kissed the demon. It wasn't a gentle kiss. Crowley was too stunned to pull away as Sam's lips pressed against his and Sam followed it by pulling Crowley closer to him. Crowley closed his eyes and returned the kiss, his hands moving to lock his fingers into belt loops on Sam's jeans. As Sam's lips parted, he let his hips push every so lightly against Crowley's and smirked into the kiss when the demon gasped. He could feel Sam's erection through the denim.
Crowley pulled away and stared at the taller man before him. "What in the hell was that?"
Sam looked confused. "I thought.. you brought me to a hotel room alone... I just thought.."
"Sam, you're drunk. I'm not going to sleep with you while you're drunk." Crowley wasn't expecting Sam's reaction of embarrassment. He tried to change the subject. "And what happened to your concern over the dead frat boy?"
Sam shrugged. "That's what you do, Crowley. That's who you are. I'm not shocked by it; you should know how much death I've seen in my life. You grow numb to it."
The King of Hell felt pity for the human. As a demon, he had seen and done terrible things. As a human, Sam's experiences with death and destruction were unparalleled, save for his brother. And here stood this broken man before him, silently asking to feel something, anything. Could the King of Hell really deny someone the right to indulge in their carnal desires? If he did, would the hunter finally begin to feel something for him other than pure hatred?
What Sam had said earlier came back to him and he remembered a time when he anticipated spending much time alone with the younger Winchester brother as they reigned in hell together after Azazel's death. He had held onto that thought, of becoming close with Sam, from the moment he learned of yellow eyes' plan. He always felt that he and Sam would end up close, similar to when humans would fantasize about meeting a celebrity. That was Sam Winchester to him, or at least that had been Sam Winchester to him. Instead, Sam fought against hell with all his strength and denied his unbreakable connection with everyone there. They couldn't make up for lost time, but maybe they could overcome their past transgressions for one night.
Crowley reached a hand down and gripped Sam's erection through his jeans. Sam took in a sharp breath. "Is this," Crowley started, "from the alochol? Or," he opened and closed his hand slowly and smirked when Sam's eyes closed, "have you finally realized how perfect we'd be together?" Crowley wanted him in every way, then.
Despite all the literal hell Sam had been through, he still wanted to remain good. All the King of Hell wanted to do was corrupt and yet, another part of him wanted to protect whatever innocence remained within the young man before him. He knew he could love the hunter. He was certain the hunter would never return those feelings...