Ah, man, all the hot tea, classical music and tired insanity that fueled this fic is one I have not before experienced to such an extent. Goodness gracious, I have renewed respect for some fic writers now.

Any who, yes, I am the person who runs the blog "mooseley-fics" that many of you may or may not be familiar with. I don't usually tend to write anything outside of the occassional flash fic and all the headcanons and prompts I can possibly think of, but I thought "300+ followers? Obviously I should write a thank you fic!" Terrible idea, kids. Writing is hard. Especially for the pair of idiots you run a blog about... (for some reason that makes it that much harder?)

Anyways, this bit is dedicated to all of you who follow my silly blog. I love you all, and really appreciate your support. I cannot tell you how much I fricking appreciate it. :]

Disclaimer- I own not a thing.

Onwards.

Sam was having a terrible day. The worst day, in fact. He was exhausted, and more than anything else, he wanted to just go back to bed. Mostly because he could not stand the fact that it happened again. He had another dream that involved Crowley, and it was much more intimate than he was comfortable admitting. This was not the second or third time that it happened that would probably be considered "I think this person is sexually attractive to me", oh no, it had happened more times than Sam dared to count. He was faced with the off chance that he might actually have a sort of crush on Crowley, which Sam wanted to call an entirely repulsive concept, but that would just be untrue.

Sam was tired of it. It made him emotionally exhausted to have to battle himself constantly, in the throws of continuous denial. It wasn't even that Crowley was male or anything. The fact of the matter was, last time Sam was involved with a demon it did not go well. Quite frankly, Sam was unwilling to try it again. Sometimes he wondered why he had even gotten involved with Ruby in the first place. Regardless, the point was that he was not attracted to Crowley in any way, shape or form, and he would very happily continue believing this to be true because, let's be honest, it is much easier that way. To pretend.

However, this was a bad day for Sam, so everything that could go wrong was most definitely going wrong. Currently, he and Dean were tied up, and Sam had just so happen to fumble with his knife, and oops, now he definitely doesn't have a knife in his possession, lucky. Dean, however, despite his look of absolute disbelief when Sam screwed up in the dumbest way known to hunters, had everything together. This, of course, did not prevent Sam from getting pretty battered by the monster who was enraged by Sam as of thus far. Sam really didn't know what he was doing wrong, to be honest.

They did bag the monster, in the end, though no thanks to Sam. Sam's bad luck didn't even end there. Now, he and Dean were in the middle of yet another prank war, and to be honest, he had no idea that this particular radio station was going to play "It's OK to be Gay" by Tomboy. All he did was turn the radio on full blast and switch it off of Dean's cassette tapes. That did not stop Dean from spluttering and yelling at Sam for the next twenty or so minutes because he was just as mortified as Sam (if not more so).

At this juncture, Sam was quite ready to curl up by himself in some dark corner. However, the day had much grander plans for him. Dean was supposed to have stepped out of the motel for just a minute, but he was gone for far longer. For whatever reason, it was at this time that Crowley decided to pay a visit, and this is how Sam got to the worst moment of his life. Well, the most mortifying moment. There have been a lot of rather bad days in Sam's life, so maybe this isn't really all that shitty if we're using broad terms.

Crowley was staring at Sam with renewed interest, as if he was deducing something that just changed the whole world for him. Sam had the sinking feeling that he didn't want to know what was about to come out of Crowley's mouth in the next moment, but it wasn't like he had control over that exactly. Then Crowley spoke, and Sam found he was right. He truly did not want anything to do with this conversation.

"There's always been something about that first moment you realize something that just gets me," Crowley began, unassumingly, and honestly, Sam didn't have much of an idea as to what Crowley was getting at exactly. Crowley moved around to face Sam with a look of interest.

"So tell me… when did you develop this," Crowley paused for a moment in consideration, as if he was unsure of the word he should use there, "Crush on me?" and, oh god, Crowley was smirking. Sam was probably two seconds from gouging his eyes out, metaphorically of course. He swallowed as his whole face and neck flushed a deep red. Crowley was maintaining his expression on deep interest. Sam just kind of wanted to die in that moment, anything to just get him out of that particular moment in time really.

"I-" Sam choked on his words, "I don't know what you're talking about." Sam said this quickly, too quickly. When did he become such a terrible liar? It was obviously the adrenaline that was coursing through him in that moment. It made him too jumpy, bringing out all of his obnoxious tells, such as the shifting of his feet and the fact that he was staring really hard at Crowley's eyebrows, in hopes that Crowley would be unable to tell that he wasn't actually making eye contact.

Crowley laughed. He actually laughed at Sam's pitiful attempt to lie to the King of Hell. The poor guy was obviously embarrassed beyond an actual ability to think comprehensibly. He was quite closed off in that moment, and Crowley was reveling in it. Crowley had never seen Sam so flustered. It was great, so of course he laughed. It was like Sam had actually turned into a stone statue. Childish really, as if that would actually make Crowley recant his earlier statement. It had been a carefully plotted one that involved quite a number of cited evidence that would probably turn poor Samantha into a nervous wreck. Which was on many levels tempting, but Crowley decided to play along because what could be more fun than twisting the younger Winchester's mind around and around again.

"Oh, really?" Crowley asked, raising an eyebrow and frowning slightly, sure to show the slightest amount of suspicion, "And here I thought-"

"No! Nope, definitely not," Sam gasped, throwing his hands into the air submissively. Crowley smiled in surprise. He had not realized that Sam was far from ready to face the reality of the emotions he bore. Crowley almost laughed again, but stifled it this time.

"You don't even know what I was going to say, Moose," Crowley replied smoothly. Sam blushed.

"I have an idea..." he trailed off, unable to actually say anything more than a leading phrase. Crowley raised an eyebrow as if to encourage Sam to continue. Sam swallowed, and they stood in silence for several long minutes.

"Well, someone's more than a little bit embarrassed. Are you sure-"

"Yes, absolutely. Positively," Sam enunciated each word like his life depended on it. Crowley chuckled lightly.

"I beg to differ," Crowley responded, tucking his hands into his pockets with a relaxed posture. Sam stared at him, searching his face, possibly considering the possibility of Crowley continuing that thought. Crowley knew the signs of a crush all too well. This was riveting.

"You see, Samantha," Crowley began regally, with a sense of purpose to his words, "Your expressions and body language say something entirely different from your words, and really, it's nothing to be ashamed of. I am the King of Hell, after all." Sam snorted then, relaxing slightly. Crowley pulled a face, but it was minor, and Sam failed to catch it.

"Seriously, I don't like you, Crowley," Sam barely managed with a nervous chuckle. Crowley tilted his head upward and slightly to the right.

"You're still stuck on that?" Crowley asked, "And here I thought you might like a little..." He trailed off with a tiny smirk. Sam's breath caught in his throat, wondering after the implications that Crowley had introduced.

"I-" Sam stammered, trying to regain his mind, "Uh, well..." Crowley licked his lips and watched how Sam's eyes were immediately locked onto the movement. How much pent up desire was Sam actually holding in there, was the question indeed.

"Well, I'm off then," Crowley began. Sam jumped at this.

"W-wait!" he barely managed. Crowley raised an eyebrow, maintaining a slight frown. He had hope that he had managed to pull in Sam's attention.

"Yes?" Sam swallowed.

"C-ca..." he started, then held up a single finger, "Kiss?" The rest of his question had apparently been lost to the chaos of his mind. Crowley smiled almost sincerely.

"Happy to oblige," he said, stepping toward Sam, who was nearly beginning to shake. Crowley had to do the initiation because apparently Sam had chosen to turn to stone again, but once their lips touched, Sam moved quickly to take hold of Crowley, pressing forward into the kiss. Sam's tongue moved across Crowley's lips, and-

"WHAT THE HELL!?" came Dean's gruff voice. Crowley pulled away from Sam, much to Sam's displeasure.

"Well, that's my queue," he winked at Sam and disappeared. What a great day it had turned out to be... and Sam meant this in the most sarcastic of ways. Now, why was Sam kissing Crowley, a demon, the King of Hell? Now that was really a question that no one wanted the answer to. Except maybe Crowley because his ego.

Uh, thanks for reading. Any thoughts or critiques, even, are really appreciated.

~Minatu