Summary: After sharing a quiet moment together, Crowley is forced to depart.
He was warm against you, the tattered ends of his overcoat draped over you in the most delicate of ways, like a blanket of a baby. His chest rose and fell against your back, fingertips dancing over your arms filling you with utter bliss, and your toes curled against his shins, teasing at the black trousers that gated his skin from yours. You were naked in his arms, legs tangled together and shallow breaths filling the comfortable silence. The feather-light caress of his fingertips almost sent you to sleep, if not for the occasional kiss he'd place on your shoulder, your head, your cheek—his salt and pepper scruff grazing against you every time—and you hummed in return, a slick tone of contentment in your voice and your lips pulled into a smile, mirrored only by his.
The sudden swing of the garage door opening yanked away the thick layer of tranquility that had nestled in your room, the deep call of your name on Dean's voice alerting you that they'd returned. You hated hiding him but Crowley pressed one final kiss on your cheek before shifting off the bed, getting ready to escape before the ire of the Winchesters caught wind of your illustrious paramour.
"Don't leave." You pleaded, barely above a whisper. Crowley adjusted his overcoat and necktie and presented a soft smile, smoothing his thumb over your knuckles when you reached out to take his hand.
"I'll be back, love." He said and you rose up to hold him, arms snaking around his neck and hands raking through his hair. You muffled an 'okay' into his shoulder and squeezed him that much tighter before releasing him… and he vanished, leaving behind no evidence that he was there beyond the love bite that resided on your collarbone.
Season twelve ruined me. Crowley deserved better. We deserve better.