This is a favourite pairing of mine that I've shipped ever since season 5, so…say hello to Crobby! No, it's not a serious pairing – it's the crack pairing to end all crack pairings! :D Oh Chuck, why are all of my pairings slash? Do I even have one straight pairing in this show? -.-

"Bobby! This isn't funny!" Crowley was fuming. The old hunter just always loved getting under his skin (not literally – that part could be saved for Hell) and this time, he'd gone too far.

"What's wrong, Crowley?" Bobby was wearing that irritating little smirk he saved specifically for screwing with Crowley (in more ways than one).

"You know perfectly well what's wrong!" Crowley snapped. He was really losing his temper today; what happened to his cool, slick, 'drop an innuendo in every other line' attitude? Oh, that's right – it disappeared with his latest shipment! "What happened to my Craig scotch?"

"What Craig scotch?" Bobby said innocently. "Ya probably lost it."

"I don't lose my alcohol, Robert." Now Crowley was pissed. "What did you do to it? Tell me or I'll –"

"Send me ta Hell?" Bobby raised his eyebrows. "You've been promising ta do that for a while now and ya haven't. What ya gonna do ta me?"

"I may not do anything to you now, Bobby," Crowley threatened, "but you know very well that your fine ass is mine the minute you croak."

"And you'll send me ta Hell and turn me into a demon?" Bobby said. "I thought ya said there was somethin' special about me that ya didn't want ta torture out."

"That doesn't mean that I won't do it." Crowley glared at Bobby. Time after time, he wondered why he'd had to fall for this specific hunter (and how did he even fall for him? Demons couldn't fall in love!) who delighted in being a very prickly thorn in Crowley's fine, regal ass.

"Well, it wasn't me this time," Bobby shrugged. "Maybe ya did lose ya drinks."

"I didn't!" Crowley seethed. "I always have them delivered to the exact same spot at the exact same time!"

"Which makes it easier for people ta prank ya," Bobby pointed out. Crowley ignored him.

"I'm going to skin that delivery boy alive and roast him in the deepest pits of Hell! I'm Crowley! Nobody toys with me and lives!"

"I do," Bobby said. Crowley shot him a death glare and, for good measure, made his eyes turn red for a few moments. Bobby just raised his eyebrows at this attempt to intimidate him.

"You're different," Crowley said. "You're my darling Kitty." Ever since he'd seen the pictures of Grumpy Cat on the Internet, Crowley had christened Bobby as Kitty, since he reasoned that he couldn't spot any difference between them. It also had the added bonus of pissing the hunter right off. Sure enough –

"If ya call me that one more time, I'll stick ya in a Devil's Trap and make ya watch me drink and pour out ya next shipment of Craig," Bobby threatened.

"Tell me where you hid this shipment and I'll stop calling you Kitty," Crowley bargained. He was getting desperate. He didn't need to drink anything – hell, he couldn't even get drunk without tonnes of alcohol – but he was very fond of his Craig and anybody who thought that they could mess with it was in for a very rude awakening.

"For the last time, I didn't take ya alcohol!" Bobby said. "But I do know who did it."

"Who?" Crowley demanded. Bobby just smirked. "Wait…don't tell me…it was Moose and Squirrel, wasn't it?"

Bobby just kept on smirking.

"When I get my hands on those two chuckleheads…"

"Relax," Bobby said. "I asked 'em ta take it."

"And why would you do something so utterly foolish?" Crowley said.

"Cause I got ya this." From underneath the table, Bobby pulled out a basket containing several bottles of alcohol and many blocks of chocolate. "One hundred year old Craig – oldest I could get it – and that dark chocolate ya love so much."

"For me?" Crowley mock-swooned, snatching the basket away. Bobby was simply a darling, going out of his way to obtain even better scotch than Crowley usually drank. And the chocolate! Crowley hadn't even thought about it until now but he did love that dark chocolate – the darker, the better. It suited his bitter and black soul.

"Happy Easter, ya idjit," Bobby said uncomfortably. Crowley gave him a genuine smile, though he would never admit this and he would kill anyone who insisted otherwise.

"I didn't know you cared so much, Kitty," he said slyly. "Want to come on upstairs so I can outdo this pathetic attempt at an Easter present?"