A/N Crobby Xmas Special ;) SLASH ahead but only fluff

The fire place dances merrily in the twilight casting playful shadows on the walls. Who knew Bobby Singer had a fire place? He certainly didn't, or maybe he did but its been so damn long since it was last used, he simply forgot where it was. Crowley took it upon himself to find the obligatory Christmas memoir. After using some demon mojo to blow out a truck full of debris from the dirty hearth, Crowley threw in a couple of longs and lit a fire with the click of his fingers. Shifting from side to side in pretence of setting the logs just right, he worked on hypnotising Bobby with the sway of his hips. He made these pants himself, making them fit but a little bit tighter in all the right places.

"Tis' the season to be jolly…"Crowley raised a suggestive eyebrow.

"Not drunk enough to get that jolly, ya idjit," as if to emphasize that statement or simply steel his nerves, Bobby took a generous swallow from his tumbler. Oh yes he had 'tumblers' now. Crowley's doing. Looking around the living room one could hardly tell anymore what else was the demons doing and what had been there all along.

"Don't be like that darling," Crowley swaggered over to the reclining man. "We only have the rest of this night to 'make merry' before the boys arrive with the angels tomorrow morning." He offered his hand and waited on empty for a good minute before sighing and grabbing the unenthusiastic appendage of the armrest. "Dance with me Robert."

"Go to hell."

"Been already. Party's in full swing."

"So why are you here?"

"Oh darling, a year of pussyfooting around you and this is the return I get on my investment?"

"Shoulda read the investor's check ya idjit. I. Don't. Dance!"

Within a blink of an eye Crowley had pulled Bobby from the seat and wrapped one arm around his waist, pressing a noticeable erection against the dimple in the hip.

"Come one mate, up yah get. Up I get," he gave a quick thrust against the other man. Leaning in he whispered against one stubbled cheek. "And you remember how much fun we have when we're up together, don't you love?"

Bobby shivered but leaned into the demon burying his nose in the dark curls. He sucked in the smell of fresh charcoal and heat. Crowley's smell.

"One dance," he groused.

"That's all I ask," Crowley smirked and used his mojo to start the cassette player across the room. The old hi-fi crankily began to play a grainy version of "Baby It's Cold Outside". Crowley started to sway them on the spot. Leaning in to place his head against the hunter's chest, who secretly relished the contact. Not that he'll be caught dead admitting to it, or anything. The track continued the peaceful duet while the two men moved together, completely in sync.

"Gosh your lips look delicious."

Crowley looked up, startled, and lifted his head to study Robert through narrowed eyes.

"Did you just…"

"Waves upon tropical shore."

"Robert?"

"Never such a pleasure before."

Leaning down he pecked the King's lips and continued to sway them. Cheeky wrinkles crinkling the corners of his eyes.

"How can you do this thing to me?"

"There's bound to be talk tomorrow," Crowley caught on.

"Think of my life long sorrow."

"At least there will be plenty implied…"

"If you caught pneumonia and die."

"I really can't stay…"

"Get over that hold out."

"Oh but its cold outside," they let the singers finish for them since they were too busy frenching like teenagers. Bobby could do a mental evaluation, probably did. The rest of the world would see it as it is, a demon seduced a naïve hunter into a blasphemous, homosexual partnership for the safe return of his soul. Only he knew better and for the first time Robert couldn't make himself feel anything else but completely satisfied, right where he was in the arms of his demon. Being stupid and acting love-drunk.

"Oh by the way," he forces himself to tear away from that sinful mouth, "if you so much as mention this to the boys tomorrow, I'll fill your ass with rock salt. We clear?"

"Crystal."

Returning to his place against the hunter's chest, Crowley couldn't help but smile when he felt rough hands slide down his back and cup his arse through his dress pants. He sighed and rubbed his cheek against the soft fabric of the lumber-jack shirt. Of course there was always Gabriel. This moment was too perfect not to be shared.