***Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or its characters. Obviously.


Black and Gold

Chapter Three

"You know," Gabriel said as he lounged on the couch, "I never ask you about your work."

"Hn," Crowley answered and turned up the volume on the documentary he was trying to watch.

Crowley had given up at attempting to get rid of the angel. He had decided on their second meeting that Gabriel was too flighty to put any amount of trust in him especially in regards to the Apocalypse; he barely trusted him alone in the house. That being a concern, Crowley had resorted to putting Enochian sigils on the outside of his home. That had had the unwanted effect of Crowley being woken at 2 a.m. to the dulcet tones of Brian Adams. Crowley had considered setting the hellhound on him but would have felt bad (for the hound, not the angel) and let him in. It was the beginning of the end.

"You never ask me about my work," Gabriel continued without a pause.

Crowley looked away from the T.V. and said, "You don't work."

"I do! You would know if you asked me about it."

"Gluing someone's butt-cheeks to the toilet seat is not work."

Gabriel considered this for a moment and shrugged. "I enjoy what I do."

"Clearly."

"I just feel like we should talk more."

"I believe you have that aspect covered for the both of us, darling."

"Well, yeah, but what about you? What do you do, Crowles?"

He sighed in resignation. "Currently? Damning souls to Hell and working to help bring about the Apocalypse, for all appearances, anyway."

"For all appearances?" Gabriel narrowed his eyes briefly and then grinned widely. "Crowley, you sly dog. Why so?"

"I'd rather the world not end."

"I never pegged you for a humanitarian."

"I'm not," Crowley said finally giving up and turning off the television. "My motives are purely selfish, I assure you. I like living."

Crowley watched as Gabriel stretched out across the couch like a cat, completely ignoring Crowley's rule about shoes on the furniture. There were some things that weren't worth arguing with the angel about.

"Honestly, I don't care one way or another. I've had enough of my brothers' cosmic bitch-fight."

"I'm not really surprised," Crowley said and raised an eyebrow at Gabriel, contradicting his words. He was surprised that the fun-loving angel had such a fatalistic attitude.

"Hey, we can't agree on everything," Gabriel said finding a bright side.

"Oh, believe me, I'm well aware that we don't."

"You know what they say about opposites and attraction."

Indignation was written all over Crowley's face.

"I never! There is no attraction… Bloody angels." He got to his feet and brushed imaginary dirt off the sleeve of his suit. Turning a glare on Gabriel, he pointed a finger at the smug grin. "Don't you get any ideas."

"I wouldn't dream of it," said Gabriel in a tone of voice that distinctly implied he had dreamed of it and in excruciating detail. Crowley snorted and retreated to his bedroom which was the one place Gabriel hadn't violated so far. The sound of laughter followed him up the stairs.


The beginning of the end was coming. Crowley wasn't really the type for dramatics but as he paced the room, he figured the Apocalypse starting was a good time for some. The muted colors of the hotel room seemed to close in on him. He was supposed to be at St. Mary's Covenant with Lilith and the others. By now he was sure she had noted his absence but as long as Crowley made it past midnight Lilith wouldn't be a concern. Lucifer, on the other hand, was a whole other story.

Red light from the digital clock filled the dark room. It read 11:56. Four minutes and Crowley would start setting his plan to stop Lucifer into motion. It was a flimsy plan, in the grand scheme of things. One little gun against the Devil. A small chuckle escaped Crowley's lips as he looked back at the clock. 11:58. He stopped pacing for a bit and listened. The only noise was the TVs from the adjoining rooms. Crowley walked away from the window and back to the dresser which was lined with tiny bottles of alcohol. Clicking a few together, he wished they weren't empty and thought, if wishes were hellhounds.

The numbers on the clock flipped over and practically blared the change of the hour. He wasn't sure what he had expected to happen; maybe the skies to start raining brimstone or rivers of blood to fill the streets. Nothing seemed to change. The world continued to spin five minutes past midnight. Crowley felt an odd mixture of relief and panic bubbling inside of him. For once, he was at a loss.

"You look like Hell," Gabriel said appearing on the bed suddenly. He didn't look much better. The shirt he wore was wrinkled and his hair was tousled.

"So do you, love."

"Well, my brother just busted out of his cage and they're getting ready for Celebrity Death Match: Apocalypse Edition. So, yeah."

Crowley's lips curled in a half smile and he resumed pacing.

"Right, right. Now I just have to make sure no one has figured out I'm working against them and come up with a way to hamstring upper management. Which, by the way," he said turning to Gabriel and getting more worked up as he went on, "will be a miracle. They may be demons but they're not completely stupid."

"Crowley…"

"If I survive this… And that's a big if because I still have Lucifer to deal with." His back was to Gabriel and he had started talking with his hands (a sure sign of agitation, the angel had learned) as he walked toward the window.

"Crowley," said Gabriel getting up from the bed.

"Rather, I'll need to find someone to deal with him for me. Most likely the Winchesters but fat luck getting them to trust me after Ruby." He turned around and almost ran into Gabriel.

"Crowley."

"What?" he asked. In his worked up state, he ignored the fact Gabriel had grabbed him by the shoulders. "Do you know how hard this will be?"

He never got the chance to tell Gabriel exactly how hard it would be because his mouth was suddenly being occupied by an archangel's tongue. Crowley's eyes widened and he was shocked out of being able to protest.

"You are the hardest person to get to shut up," Gabriel said breaking the kiss.

Color began rising in Crowley's formerly white cheeks and his mouth hung partially open. Before his mind had been racing with thoughts; now it was completely blank. It really shouldn't have come as a surprise all things considered but Crowley had been looking at the whole thing from the wrong angle.

"So you kissed me," Crowley said after a moment.

"It worked," grinned Gabriel.

"Who am I to argue with results?" he mused.

The second time Gabriel moved into kiss him, Crowley was prepared. As a crossroads demon he was no stranger to kissing in general. Those kisses were business, however, and most people were repulsed by the thought of kissing a demon let alone the actual act. Gabriel was the first person in a very long time (because Crowley didn't count Lilith) not to pull away in disgust. It tasted coppery and sweet like sugar and he could feel Gabriel's smile.

Gabriel was also no stranger to kissing either, though, besides Kali, he hadn't been kissing much other than his little creations. While life-like, they didn't have the heat of Crowley's kiss. It was unnatural and Gabriel could feel the hellfire pulsing under his fingers which had made their way to the demon's neck. The kiss was alive in a way that he, in all his millennia on Earth, had never experienced before and didn't really want to end.

Finally and slowly the two parted. They both were flushed and Crowley fidgeted with his tie as Gabriel flung himself on the bed with a satisfied grin. Crowley gave him a side-long glance.

"I'm never going to get rid of you know, am I?" he asked.

"Admit it. You don't want to."

The silence that followed was damning.


Waking up with approximately a hundred and fifty pounds of angel flesh on top of you and snoring blissfully in your ear was not Crowley's ideal way to start the morning. He liked a nice cup of tea and the morning paper. Instead, he wiped the drool -not his- off his cheek and put on a pot of complimentary motel room coffee. Once he fixed a cup of black sludge, Crowley began attempting to wake Gabriel. Poking him in the side had no effect neither did pulling off the blankets or shouting his name. He decided to take a more drastic approach and set the hem of Gabriel's shirt on fire.

It took the angel a moment to wake up and notice what was wrong. Gabriel had never gotten out of a bed he was actually sleeping in so quickly before in his life. He patted out the flames and looked around bleary-eyed for the culprit. Crowley was chuckling silently into his coffee.

"Morning, sunshine," Crowley said. Gabriel turned from five-feet-seven inches of angelic wrath to talking Golden Retriever in less than three seconds.

"Ha ha, very funny," he said smiling. "You could've asked me to get up instead of setting me on fire."

"I did. This was a last resort." Crowley set his empty mug down on the table. "Anyway, I have business to take care of."

Gabriel's eyebrows rose. "Yeah? I thought you were worried about the whole turncoat thing?"

"Technically, I haven't done anything. It's a matter of getting in and tying up a few loose ends before people start suspecting." Crowley was adamantly hoping it would be that easy. His uneasiness about the whole thing didn't escape Gabriel's notice; he had spent enough time around Crowley to pick up on the little quirks.

"Just be careful, Crowles," he said.

A small smile crept across Crowley's face and he leaned over to kiss Gabriel lightly.

"I always am."