A/N: For Orangy
"Juliet"
Crowley strode through the dark and dreary halls of Hell into the archive room where he deposited his latest secured contract. One soul to claim ten years from now in exchange for a bailout from financial ruin. Too easy.
He looked down the long row of shelves filled to the brim with similar contracts and allowed a small, smug smile. His was a lucrative business and there was a reason he was King of the Crossroads.
A gurgling sound drew his attention toward the brimstone hearth along the far wall where a massive hellhound was lounging, cheeks bulging as she gnawed on something in her mouth. Several somethings. Crowley sighed and walked over.
"Juliet, love, we've talked about this."
The beast froze and rolled one red eye up at him, then growled deep in her throat.
"Don't give me that. I told you to stop bringing those back from up top. You're supposed to be retrieving souls."
A grumbling gnashing of teeth was the response and Juliet hunkered her head down low between her legs as she continued to chew and suck.
Crowley stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I mean it. What're the other crossroads demons going to say if they see you like this? 'Oh, Juliet, the most fearsome hellhound ever sired is actually addled in the head.'"
Those vermillion eyes narrowed and a warning rumble issued forth.
Crowley withdrew his hands and raised his palms. "I'm not saying it, love. But you're not exactly projecting a vicious image here." He started to gesture at her hulking build, corded muscles, and blazing eyes, then aborted. "You know what I mean," he huffed. "Now will you spit that out and go fetch a soul that's come due?"
Juliet regarded him sullenly for an extra beat before finally standing and spitting out the soggy glump that'd been in her mouth.
Crowley arched a brow. "Eleven. I think that's a new record."
Juliet chuffed with pride and stepped over the squishy pulp and rind of the pulverized lemons.
"And no side trips," Crowley called as she trotted away. He shook his head to the ceiling. What was he going to do with her?
"You're no King of Hell," the demon spat.
Crowley angled a bored look at him from where he sat upon the throne. "And yet, here we are."
"I will not bow to the likes of you, lowly crossroads demon," he sneered. "And neither will anyone else."
Crowley rolled his head back against the wood behind him. This was getting tiresome. He straightened and slowly narrowed his eyes as a thought occurred to him.
"Juliet, love, you know that thing you like to do with lemons?" He flicked his hand toward the lesser demon.
Juliet's maw parted into a fangy grin as she rose to her feet from his side.
The demon finally faltered as he glanced at the mastiff beast. Juliet didn't give him time to scream before she'd pounced on his head, practically devouring it whole. Crowley watched blithely until Juliet was done, and then she sauntered back over to him, blood dribbling down her mouth like the lemon juice she was so fond of.
Crowley patted her head. "Good doggie."
