"Sweet Lord of the Rings!"
Mystic25
Rating: T for some references
Summary: Total and complete Crackfic. No plot, just crack. BWAHAHA!
A/N: This is my challenge where I pick two random characters on the lists you get for "Character 1" and "Character 2" when you publish a story here, and just have at it.
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"Sweet Lord of the Rings! RUNNNN!"
-Hell Hounds "Supernatural"
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Crowley sits in his high back brown leather smoking chair in the cavernous mansion he stole, twisting a skull ring round and round his finger. The firelight in the fireplace as cavernous as the mansion itself is so orange and intense it reminds him of home. Sitting beside him on an ornate mahogany end table with carvings of screaming angles around its base, is a full snifter of brandy.
Crowley picks up the glass at the base with one hand, swirls then sips nosily, swallowing with a quiet ah of satisfaction. "That's lovely," he stares in the drink and sniffs enjoying the heady bouquet. He takes another such sip, then finally retires the glass back to the table.
He looks across the firelight to the other matching chair. And as much as the King of Hell had seen and committed torture, as much as he seen mayhem and complete destruction, he suddenly found himself shocked at seeing someone sitting there.
"Who the bloody hell are you?" Crowley snaps at the man who suddenly metalized there.
The person in his chair – who is pressing its khaki covered ass all over his Italian leather – looks at him with huge bulging eyes, like he had just woken up from a nap. There's some sort of camera lantern combo strapped to the guys head, and it's light beams around the room like a search light.
"What-" the guy with looks whips his head around, and around, and when the light hits Crowley directly in the eyes, the Demon hisses a snake like sound at him. The man jumps again "Who-who are you?"
"I should be asking you that question bloke," Crowley snaps. "You are, after all in my house."
"What-?" The guy's voice sounds like a squeaky hinge. "Your house-what-I don't-"
"Okay," Crowley says with exaggerated slowness, because this seemed like an exaggeratedly slow kind of human. "Another question, then, where did you come from?"
"I don't know!" the man squeaks out again. "I-I-" he jumps up so fast that he knocks over a golden candle holder with a long stem wax candle catching the rug below him on fire.
"'Chu mean you don't know?" Crowley's accent has gone cockney in his angered confusion. "Hey!" he snaps at the sight of the fire on his floor. "That's a hand woven Persian!"
The man stomps out the fire with his foot, eyes bugged out because he has no idea what the hell is going on.
"Well now that you've successfully depreciated the value of this place," Crowley hisses again."I think I deserve some pay off mate- like your name."
"H-Harry, Harry Spangler" the kid finally answers his eyes so big they're about to roll onto the floor, but at the same time he's reaching for some sort of switch on his head gear. A camera starts to whirr.
"Spangler?," Crowley steps closer, hand extended."Nice name mate, Name's Crowley, King of Hell-"
"King of-?" Harry's eyes go wide, and he in one quick movement he backs up in a Karate Stance. "Stay back!" He makes a 'wooo-haaa' noise and splashes something onto Crowley's jacket.
It sizzles and Crowley swears. "You bleeding little shit! – this is Armani!" he watches a smoking hole form in his black suit jacket, and in his skin, but he's a bit more concerned with the jacket, cause he can always come by new skin.
"Stay back evil Demon! I may have been in my mom's basement in Peoria playing Stratego for Wii just a minute ago, but I'm still a kick ass ninja with a green belt in Tai Chi!" Harry starts circling Crowley keeps making that stupid 'air whipping' noise. "Yeah, uh huh, that's friggin' Holy Water dick! How you like Harry S. now!"
"Are you hitting the bong mate?" Crowley growls while blotting at the wet stain of Holy Water on his suit. "You don't just break into my house and burn holes in my skin!" His eyes flash black, then back to his meat suit's color of dark brown.
"I can do whatever I want bzatch! Like send you're sorry demon ass back to hell, and save this poor butler you're riding!"
Crowley looks both enraged and offended the outburst. "He is the owner of a very high end Haberdashery in West London, you little useless toad!"
"I don't care what kind of drugs he sold he still deserves to live!" Harry is circling Crowley, all the while waving his arms, and chanting to himself. This is just how Harry defeated Lord Voldenmort!
Crowley rolls his eyes, and all the while Harry is circling him, muttering broken bits of Latin verbs, intermixed with a few 'Avada Cadaveras' he goes to a stack of books on his huge leather covered ottoman and picks up a hard cover edition of the Unabridged Oxford English Dictionary. He flips to the section he wants. He walks over to Harry, and shoves it under his nose before he can react.
Harry squirms to free himself from Crowley for a second, but then his innate sense of curiosity over comes him and he reads the passage Crowley has pushed under his face:
"Haberdashery, noun: A store or shop that deals in the selling of men's clothing' Well Holy Elfin, I just learned a new word."
Crowley rolled his eyes again and shut the book on Harry's face, before grabbing him by the neck. "How about we end class early and just get down to brass taxes?"
"I don't do taxes," Harry gasps out. "I know people."
"Then how about I just turn your bits to dust instead?"
Harry squeaks out a rusty door squeak of a whimper. "I can find a good CPA-"
"Shut it," Crowley squeezes tighter, but right before he would have severed Harry's neck, the phone in his pocket rings.
Annoyed, Crowley drops Harry to the floor, and he gasps and chokes at his Italian leather shoed feet while he answers the call.
"Dean, darling," Crowley smiles into the phone. "long time mate. How's the misses?"
"Dean!-" Harry gasps out.
"That was just my new house boy. He likes to play rough." Crowley says to Dean's 'what the hell was that noise?'
"Fine," Crowley huffs after getting an earful of Dean's swearing. He puts his iPhone 4 on speaker: "He wants to talk to you."
"Harry!" Dean's voice cracks through the speaker "What the hell are you doing with Crowley?"
"Dean help me!" Harry screams, not answering any of Dean's questions. He's still curled on the floor, his vest has come open, revealing his "I break for Hobbits" tshirt underneath. "I don't even know what I'm doing here, or how I got here -but I think—Satan's kidnapped me!" Harry said the last three words like a bad stage whisper.
"Okay, just calm down Harry, we'll get you out! Tell me where you are!"
Harry felt an enormous sense of relief washing over him. As much as Dean Winchester was a total dooshbag, he was a total dooshbag that had killed demons before and had a gun. He was saved!
"I don't know man, I think Idaho, I can see a potato farm outside-"
"Okay, just try not to piss Crowley off, you understand! We'll be there in a few-"
"Dude, what the hell are you doing? Halftimes about over-" Sam's voice comes through the other line, and there's an unmistakable sound of a beer bottle being uncapped.
"Look Courbet-"
"Harry!" Harry screams into the phone.
"Right, Harry-" the sound of Dean swallowing a mouthful of beer pauses his words, then: "We'll be there ASAP, just hang on for about 3 more hours okay?"
"No- wait –Dean!" Harry screams.
"Harry I gotta go man, okay – Sammy can't really handle his beer, someone's gotta be around to make sure he gets drunk properly. It's all in the Big Brother Handbook."
"Games back on man," Sam's voice calls out to Dean over the phone.
"Good luck Courbet," Dean says, and flings the phone down without hanging up.
"Dean!" Harry screams one more time before Crowley hangs up the phone.
"The boys seem to be busy watching balls," Crowley says, tucking the phone back in his pocket. "So how about we continue our little date here?"
"You'll never take me alive!" Harry says, even as he cowers into a little ball.
"Now why would I want to do that?" Crowley throws back. "You're much more valuable to me on a slab, and plus you won't be nearly as annoying."
"What if I put you on my webpage, Ghostfacers?" Harry blurts out. "We get over 500 hits an hour!"
"You and your drunken school mates opening your page up 500 times don't count as hits," Crowley says. "Plus I've seen that page you're talkin' bout. It looks like it was made on Geocities."
Harry gasped in indignation "Take it back!"
"And that banner add?" Crowley adds. "You do know that it's just heaven, purgatory and hell right mate? Middle Earth doesn't exist."
"Shut up. SHUT UP!" Harry is know rocking back and forth, knees to his chest, covering his ears, muttering 'safe place, safe place, safe place." in Elfin.
Crowley merely grinned and poured himself another Brandy.
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End.
If anyone wishes to take the challenge too, go for it. It was hilarious for me to write this. Just pick two random characters from that list and write a fic on them, just no E/O challenges, a little longer is a little funnier.
And stay tuned…because next fic will be a SPN one…and my 100th fan fiction here…yay!
bye
Mystic