Characters are not mine- A story request from my Tumblr-
Anon: Have you seen Vicious? It's a sitcom starring Ian McKellen and Derek Jacobi as Freddie and Stuart, an old gay couple that have been together for 49 years. They love each other, but they show it with insults and snarky comments. Do think you could do a Crobby fic based off that?
"Stop worrying," Crowley muttered, snatching the leash from the coat rack, patting his legs softly to get Rumsfeld's attention. "You'll get wrinkles."
The Rottweiler came trotting in, happily wagging its tail as it sat in front of its owner. Bobby scoffed at the man, rolling his eyes as he grabbed another book off the shelf, "You ain't no prize either, princess."
"At least I don't look my age." Crowley retorted, clipping the leash securely around the dogs collar before standing to his full height.
"The hell you don't," Bobby grumbled, "You look older than me."
"Age always makes things finer."
"Real cute, that only works with wine, ya idjit." Crowley merely frowned in his direction, snatching his black trench coat off of the rack.
"You coming along?"
Bobby gave him an incredulous look. "Do I ever?"
Crowley tilted his head slightly to the side, a sarcastic smirk on his lips. "I was only concerned about the planet you're sporting on your gut."
"Look who's talkin',"
"Mhm, however mines more like the candy bar I should have laid off, rather than 'I found a liquor store, and I drank it.'." He lowered his voice to mimicked Bobbys, which only got a paperback thrown at the back of his head.
"Shut up," The man growled, walking into the kitchen. "I'll start dinner, hurry up with Rumsfeld," Bobby told the other, "I'm thinking Pasta."
There was an empathetic look scrawled over the other mans face as he strolled into the kitchen and pecked the taller man on the check. "Don't burn down the kitchen."
Bobby smirked, "Don't worry, I'll use your books to put it out."
"You prat," Crowley called over his shoulder as he moved to let the dog outside, being pulled along with it.
The hunter grabbed out the ingredients to start making dinner, the noodles and the sauce were pulled out, along with a pot, quickly filling it with water.
He had officially started boiling the noodles by the time his partner came waltzing back in, releasing Rumsfeld, who ran up to Bobby wagging his tail before moving to lay beside the stove. Looking up expectantly at the hunter.
"What kind of pasta are we having?" Crowley asked, shrugging his heavier jacket off of his shoulders, white flakes of snow still attached to his dark hair, slowly melting in the sudden warm temperature.
"Red."
Crowley tsked, moving to lean against the counter by the stove, giving the hunter a disapproving eye. "White's better."
"White pasta is nothing compared to Red."
"Red is too messy," Crowley retorted, "Much like you."
"I'm sorry your majesty," Bobby grunted, stirring the noodles at a steady pace, "But I don't think we have any of your fancy sauce."
"Plebian." Crowley coughed, receiving a half-hearted punch in the shoulder.
"Well you're stuck with the 'plebian'," The hunter mumbled, "ya damn idjit."
"Sadly." They both smiled at this, and Crowley went to set the table for the two of them. Bobby ended up grabbing a pan, (After arguing with Crowley whether or not they were adding meat) before finally heating up the sauce. Because honestly, what's Spaghetti with out meatballs?
Sad noodles, goddamn it. That's what they are.
Some people wondered why he tolerated Crowley, and he's pretty sure some people ask Crowley the same question. They bicker, and fight, and Crowley's a damn snarky bastard, but he's his snarky bastard, and he wouldn't have it any other way.
Most say fighting as much as they do is unhealthy, but it's like a routine with them. There's never really any venom behind their words; They've lived together for years, almost countless it seems, and it just fits. They just fit. If they meant half of what they said, they would have went there separate ways years ago.
Well- they kinda do mean what they say, but it's never negatively.
Bobby heard the plates and silverware clatter softly behind him, turning a bit to watch as the man set up in the same way he had been since they've moved in together.
The noodles have softened, and soon they were drained before mixed together with the sauce, bringing the pot to the table, placing down a slight mat before setting down the food.
"Make any garlic bread?" Crowley asked, taking a seat. Bobby shook his head. The man tsked, "Of course not."
"Make your own damn bread."
"Only if you'll butter it." Bobby paused, before pushing to stand, giving his partner an amused look.
"You and your damn double meanings."
"You'll survive, darling." Crowley smirked, pushing to stand as well. They both made to grab the garlic bread, Crowley starting the oven up while Bobby set to work on setting up the bread. The dials clicked under the shorter mans fingers, glancing over at the hunter for a moment.
The prat was having a bit of difficulty, and the shorter man couldn't help but let out a soft snort. Bobby Singer isn't the type of man he imagined himself with when he was in grade school, but something about the burly man caught his attention.
And to be downright honest he loved it here, even if Bobby was a bit of a tosser when they'd be shooting the breeze (Literally as was as figuratively). He'd never been happier.
Bobby grabbed a pan, roughly placing it down to start setting out the garlic bread.
He was distracted in doing so, he was caught off guard when a pair of arms wrapped around his middle, the shorter man leaning up to press a kiss behind his ear.
Bobby sighed out, "One of these days you're gonna give me a damn heart attack."
The arms tightened momentarily before being released, "Promises, promises."
I will be posting my tumblr requests here in a jumble of one-shots. Feel free to look me up and ask anytime. (Luciferissatan) [I will always keep the requests themselves under anon unless asked directly not to by the person. Anon or not if asking the request on the sight- It would be rude to do so without permission.] Hope you enjoyed~! ^^ LLAP