Sam didn't show up the next few days (not that Crowley missed him or anything...). "Probably a hunt..." Crowley figured. But when he did show up, he said nothing. "Hello, Moose. Up for another round?" Sam just pulled up a chair, set a plate with a pomegranate and a beer down, and sat down. He pulled out a copy of Game of Thrones, opened the book to his spot, and read quietly to himself. It went on for a good twenty minutes. "The silent treatment, Moose? Seriously? I'm not a child..."
"You threw a crumpled up piece of paper at me and pouted when you refused to cooperate." Sam replied, eyes not leaving the book. "Besides, I obviously need to change tactics with you..." There were a few more minutes of silence. Crowley hated the silence. Sam drank his beer. Crowley leaned up a bit. "Joffery has Eddard executed..." he said, hoping for a reaction. "Already past that part, Crowley..." Sam replied, showing he was in fact on the last chapter. He finished the book and turned his attention to his pomegranate.
Never had Crowley been more relieved Sam chose a non-Freudian fruit to try. In his hundreds of years of existance, he couldn't think of a single way to make eating pomegranates sexy. The closest suggestive thing he could think of was possibly sucking the excess juice off the boy's lips, but even for Crowley that was stretching a bit.
Still, he had to admit the fruit sounded good. Demons could eat if they wanted to, after all. Plus, the lack of attention and silence was killing him. "Hey," Crowley piped up. "What do you want, Crowley?" Sam replied, still not looking at him. Had this been any other time, Crowley would have replied with something like, "Well, you over this desk, begging me for mercy, for starters..."
"Could I have a bit?" Crowley found himself asking instead, pointing to the partially-gutted pomegranate. Sam's eyes flicked over to Crowley, and he became stern. "Are you going to cooperate?"
Was he really going to give up for a few pomegranate seeds and no more silence? "And Sam..." A voice in his head chimed in gleefully. "Shut up." he thought. "I'm going mad..." He looked Sam in the eye. "Yeah..."
They didn't break eye contact for a while. Sam's gaze softened. He pushed the plate where Crowley could reach. The demon took some seeds and proceeded to bite and suck the juicy coating off. ("That sounded wrong... Perhaps there is something Freudian after all...") Sam had a few more seeds as well. Crowley spit the seed bits out into his hand and set them on the plate.
"Alright. A deal's a deal, Sam. If nothing else, I'm mostly a demon of my word... I..."
Then, as if The God Of Unwanted Intrusions themself had sent him personally, Dean walked in. "Sam, we got a hunt down in..." The elder Winchester saw his brother and his prisoner sitting together at the table, pomegranate between them. "What the crap?" he said, pointing at Crowley and the table.
"Hey, I don't interrupt your dates, Dean..." Crowley snarked. Sam held his hands up. "It's not a date. I was just taking a new approach to dealing with Crowley..." Crowley shook his head and tsked. "And there's the problem with our relationship in a nutshell: You always deny it..." Sam pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Whatever it is, Dean, let's go..." Sam said. Dean clapped his hands together and walked out of the room. Sam followed but not before stopping to face Crowley. "You're not getting out of this that easily. When we get back, you're telling." Crowley crossed his legs under the desk and put his hands together on the table. "Looking forward to it..." he said, the side of his mouth twitching upward.