Here with me
Chapter 2: Into my arms
'Come again?', Crowley asked, holding up a hand for good measure.
'Come?', the hunter raised his brows innocently, 'I thought you wanted to talk'.
'What?', the former King of Hell realized he was being teased and relaxed a bit, rolling his eyes, 'Bollocks. I'm not ready to deal with an over-sexualized version of Robert Singer'.
Bobby chuckled, 'Luckily, we have all the time in the world for you to get used to it'.
'How is that so?', a suspicious brow was raised, 'Is this Heaven so yours that you don't have to answer to anyone on how your guest behave?'
Bobby regarded him from head to toe, as if contemplating his answer.
He was very serious when he spoke, 'May I get closer?'
'Why?'
'I want to see you better, Little Red Riding Hood', Bobby gestured as if annoyed, but had an amused smile on his face, 'What else?'
'That's not what I asked, Big Bad Wolf…'
Crowley lost his train of thought.
The intention had been just answering in kind, but calling Robert a wolf when he was all hairy and bulky and naked and reachable brought up all types of sexual ideas.
Crowley averted his eyes, 'Please, would you get back the would-be-blind-in-any-other-circumstances light we had before? This countryside gloom palette is distracting'.
The change happened immediately, with the window disappearing and the lightening back to engulfing every side of every thing.
Crowley nodded in thanks, breathed deeply and seized the opportunity to take a quick glance at his surroundings and check if anything had changed, besides the window.
No: they still were in a room with walls covered by shelves filled with books, the very well-known armchair…
And a huge bed.
Someone must have great expectations.
He looked at Bobby again, 'What I want to know is why you are asking for permission to come closer if it's…', he scowled, making a derisive gesture around, '…your Heaven'.
The man in front of him seemed to find his disgusted attitude quite curious, 'The place is mine, but you are my guest', he waited for Crowley to nod, 'Felt like being a polite host would help you forgive the times I threatened you with shots of rock salt and make you more willing to stay'.
Crowley raised both hands, this time, 'Forgive?'
The gesture lifted the pillow, and he quickly settled it back in place.
Bobby smirked at the scene, but didn't comment, 'That would be a good start'.
'You want me to forgive you?'
'One can hope'.
'What the Hell is happening here?!', Crowley lost all control he had managed until then and raised his voice, 'After all I did to you and your boys?! After all the double-crossing and half-truths and soul-kidnapping, you think I should forgive you?!'
Robert gave the necessary steps to reach him and rested a hand delicately on his arm, looking straight into his eyes, 'Calm down, Fergus'.
Crowley gave a startled step behind, freeing his arm and making sure to not lose the pillow, and almost growled, 'The Robert I knew never called me that'.
'I did, once', his face was solemn, 'In bed'.
There was a shocked silence.
That was probably the memory Crowley had made the most effort to not indulge in.
'You remember that, don't you?', Bobby asked, his head tilted, his eyes searching Crowley's, 'It slipped in a moment when I didn't have exactly the clearest of minds', he gave a small smile and stepped closer, 'I didn't regret it, but you never commented on it and I never had the guts to bring it on', another step, right into the shorter man's personal space, 'Spent more time than I really had to spare wishing I knew why it felt so good and if you had enjoyed it as much as it looked like at the time'.
Crowley was mesmerized.
Yes, he remembered that very well: the mixed feelings on being treated like a human in such an intimate moment, the notion that there was something going on under his nose that he couldn't understand but was related to the possibility of him and Robert forging a sincere emotional bond.
A hunter and a demon.
It hadn't made sense then, but now it did.
The things they did to each other were unmistakable words and moves of people who cared. In Robert's Heaven they could talk about those things, what was more than Crowley could have imagined when he spent hours nursing a drink and wondering what could have been if they were given more time.
His eyes left the blue ones of the human in front of him and settled on the lips.
His forehead creased and his fists clenched on the pillow.
It was starting to hurt not to kiss that man again.
He wanted to believe this was real, even if every life experience told him that things that seemed too good were, probably, very cruel and well elaborated lies.
Well, not every life experience.
Not the ones with this man.
Bobby lifted a hand slowly, making clear he intended to rest it on Crowley's forearm again.
Still convinced it was reasonable to resist any advances, Crowley tried to step away one more time, but then realized he was cornered.
He frowned in confusion, finding out now there was a clean wall behind him, no signal of any shelves or books.
'It's a hunter's Heaven', Bobby gave a tentative smile and completed the gesture, resting the hand on the forearm, 'Sorry for the ambush, but I think it's time for you to stop running from me'.
Crowley looked at the hand on his skin and squared his shoulders, supporting his back on the cool wall and trying to deal with the sudden shiver the new sensations created.
Bobby's fingertips caressed delicately.
'I see you decided to take control', Crowley gulped and made the sassiest face possible under the circumstances, 'Let's find out what you intend to do with it'.
'I can do anything to our surroundings', Bobby answered, trailing soothing patterns up the arm and getting closer to the shoulder, 'But it doesn't really matter'.
The shivers came back – one more proof that this was really Robert, once his meatsuit trembling in desire under delicate touches was one of the intimate and unspoken things he knew about the demon – and Crowley closed his eyes at the hand gently caressing the side of his neck, 'What is that supposed to mean, Robert?'
'It means the one thing I have no control over is the one that matters'.
Crowley sighed, his head tilted in a reckless desire to offer more spots to be touched.
The offer was accepted, and the fingers sprawled to touch his ear, the line of his jaw and to feel his pulse point on the neck.
He opened his eyes to watch Bobby through heavy lashes.
His breathing ragged at the closeness, and he wondered if being in a celestial realm made bodies more sensitive to good things.
The possibilities were exciting.
Bobby's free hand settled on the middle of Crowley's chest, 'This one'.
'Uhm?', he had no idea what they had been talking about, anymore.
'I have no control over this'.
Crowley tensed, raising his head in alert, 'You wish you had?'
'Not really', Bobby smiled, 'This is not about having it the easy way. It's-'
'You want it to stop, don't you?'
'What?'
'You wish you could stop the heart in my meatsuit', an unexpected grip of fear twisted Crowley's guts at the realization, 'I'm powerless, in Heaven', he looked away, 'Now you could get rid of me'.
'Dear God, man, what are you talking about?!'
Crowley risked a glance at Bobby, but averted his eyes again at the worry in the face in front of him.
He was already fighting tears; seeing the fake concern would just make it hurt more, and he couldn't afford being so exposed.
He must focus.
He was facing Robert – the human who had fascinated him, the human he never tried to hurt – and it was naturally difficult not to hope there was something good going on here.
He should have known better, but there was something about Robert that got Crowley off-balance since forever.
It was not exactly a surprise that he had fallen for that, again.
However, he was starting to see the truth, now.
This was just a game.
Robert Singer had seen him vulnerable, and not in the purified-blood-injections sense, but in the throes-of-passion sense, what was many times worse regarding how exposed someone could be.
The angels must have understood this weakness ran deeper than his addiction, and chosen the hunter's soul to give him the punishment they thought he deserved.
'Fergus?'
Crowley frowned painfully at the familiar voice saying his human name.
Involving Robert was too low, even for angels.
They were pretending to give him everything he wanted just to take it away through some sick game.
'Tell me what's in your mind, so I can explain myself'.
Crowley heard it, but there was nothing he wanted to say.
There was a reason why he never stayed after sex: he feared they would talk and end up discussing what happened during sex, and he needed to avoid the embarrassment to face what was really going on when their guards were down.
He looked at Bobby and shook his head.
The old fear of finding out what he already suspected wrenched his guts.
'Hey', Bobby put his hands on the sides of Crowley's face to make sure they locked eyes, 'I've been living here by myself for a long time. I thought bringing you into bed with me would be a good start, and it wasn't. I'm not sure what I can say or do to put you at ease'.
There was undeniable worry in those blue eyes.
Crowley realized, suddenly, that no matter the plot going on and the role Robert had in it, he would surrender, because he wanted to.
He always did, when that human was regarded.
Every time Crowley decided to visit Robert he promised himself it would be the last. He repeated in his own head that having a hunter as a lover was stupid and dangerous. He arrived at the old house in the yard ready to satisfy urgent carnal desires and say goodbye to this useless and derogatory liaison.
But then Robert offered him a drink, good conversation, very enjoyable company; the demon felt comfortable and trusting, eager to be generous and tender; it all leaded to intense sex.
How could he not indulge again?
At the first boring reunion or endless contracts' readings or just some time by himself after bearing stupid and uninteresting demons, he was already craving for Singer's company and hoping he could go to that place in Sioux Falls where he felt at home.
And then he remembered his absence would be noticed by his minions, and the cycle of convincing himself he should put a stop on that started anew.
But being upside was always a relief.
Being upside with Robert had been like… well…
A piece of Heaven.
Crowley moved a bit, restless under Bobby's apparently infinite patience while he decided what to say.
The former King of Hell settled for a confession, 'I'm conflicted'.
'Good', Bobby saw the frown and hurried to explain himself, 'You're assessing your feelings. You're talking. We're working together in this. That's good. That's what we need. Go on'.
Crowley nodded, breathed deeply to get in the mood for clarifying things and spoke, 'I can't believe you want me here, intruding in your Heaven'.
'You're not intruding. I said you are my guest'.
'Let's suppose I believe it', he admitted, 'I don't understand how I can even be here'.
'How do you think someone ends in Heaven?'
'Being the righteous person I never was?'
'Not exactly', Bobby nodded in encouragement, 'Try again'.
Crowley squinted, 'Having contacts?'
'That's a good one, but not exactly the point, in your case – even if I am kind of your ticket, I couldn't bring you up here through the sheer force of my will'.
Crowley frowned and shook his head, at a loss of what to say.
Bobby rolled his eyes, 'Deserving it, Fergus'.
It was like time had stopped.
Crowley froze, silent, mouth open in shock.
The damn tears he had managed to subside came back full force.
'What kind of torture is this?', he spoke in a choked voice, 'Have you been watching me from here, Singer? That's how you knew what to say?', he pushed the other man away hastily, 'That's the catch! You saw me pathetic and weak, spilling my disgusting feelings because of your dear Sam's purified blood, and you'll use what you found out against me!', he pointed an accusing finger, 'You almost had me th-'
The room started shaking, and both men looked around, startled.
Crowley frowned, using the extended arm with the pointing finger to hold on to the nearest wall, 'Is it me?'
'Yes, but not what you must be thinking', Bobby answered, 'It's not demonic. It'll stop once you calm down'.
The shaking went on.
'Fergus…'
'I AM CALM!'
'No, you're not'.
'How can you say?!', Crowley hissed, 'Are you reading my bloody mind?!'
The hunter looked at the demon for some moments, then seemed to reach a decision.
He covered the distance between them in quick strides, 'Come here'.
Crowley was not able to react, and the white pillow was now the only thing separating them, once Robert had enveloped him in a tight hug.
His body tensed. He wanted to recoil, but Singer's arms were holding him firmly in a strong embrace – hands settled on his back as if they could anchor him.
One of Crowley's hands grabbed the pillow with all his might, while the other kept in the air, letting go of the wall but not sure of where to go next.
'Being calm is more than not wanting to rip off someone's eyes', Bobby spoke softly in his ear, 'It's being fearless not because you guess you can fight someone, but because you know you're safe', a soothing hand went up on his spine and reached his hair, the other staying on the middle of his back, 'You must believe you don't have to defend yourself from me'.
Crowley tried to regulate his breathing.
Robert, even when their touches were mostly sex-oriented, had always had a peculiar warmth. Things would get heated and uncontrolled, but Crowley never felt invaded, pierced or violated.
(That's how the damned hunter had found out the demon enjoyed gentle touches, by the way.)
This new and irresistible combo of moves and words seeped easily through Crowley, and he was on the verge of taking the leap of faith.
'I can't do it for you', Bobby sighed, 'You must believe I don't want to hurt you'.
Crowley never knew how much he wanted to hear that.
It had never happened to him.
He never heard nice words from people he cared for.
He had been abused by the only person he ever really trusted, in his human life – his mother –, and still he did everything he could to make her proud. He learned how to juggle, he helped with the animals, he stayed put and obedient when she left him saying she would be back soon.
She never praised him. She never took care of him properly.
She never came back.
The fear of abandonment tainted every relationship he had while he was the sorry excuse of a human that was Fergus McLeod.
As a demon, he soon realized that even the ones who pretended to enjoy his company with clear ulterior motives didn't understand him: they kept stressing how wicked or powerful he was, as if he should feel praised by that.
Why would he feel praised at being useful?
Yes, he wanted to be a businessman. He enjoyed the power. He loved the integrity of deals made according to the rules and followed to the end.
But, at the end of the day, he could be surrounded by as many entities as he wished – in the living room of one of his many mansions or in his throne room in Hell –, but deeply inside he knew he was lonely and underappreciated.
But then he met Robert Singer, and the hunter wanted him.
Just like that.
No blackmail that involved their secret relationship, no lies about their attraction.
When they were by themselves, they would chat and share a drink and explore the other's body and it didn't serve to any purpose than to enjoy it together.
At the understanding that a new chance of having that was worth the leap, Crowley relaxed.
His arm lowered and hugged Bobby back.
The shaking of the room subsided.
'That's it', there was an obvious smile in the voice in his ear, 'I don't know what went through your mind, but you're on point'.
Crowley adjusted his head on the crook between Bobby's head and shoulder and sighed, 'You're lucky I'm clever'.
'Yeah', the hand on his back made slow circular motions, 'And I'm counting on it'.
The moment stretched.
The shaking stopped completely, but neither made any gesture to separate.
'Tell me', Crowley resumed the conversation, his body relaxing further against the other man and starting to enjoy the contact, 'If I don't have any powers, how my inner whatever could affect your Fantasy Island?'
'You don't have demonic powers, but you just can be here because you have a soul again', there was a pause, 'I know about the unfinished trial and all that human blood you injected. The angels showed me when they came to tell me you were dead'.
'Not exactly proud of being a junkie', Crowley spoke low, 'But not as much regretful as I probably should'.
'That's ok', Bobby whispered back, 'You wanted the feels, you got them. Not by far the worst decision you ever made', he hugged a bit tighter, 'It may be the best, if you consider it made possible for you to be here'.
Crowley accepted the reasoning, 'All's well that ends well'.
'That's the spirit', Bobby placed a light kiss on Crowley's shoulder.
'Speaking of spirits, wasn't Heaven closing because there were few angels?', the ex-demon resumed again, 'How did they manage to keep going in a power crisis?'
'Souls are a powerful source of energy'.
'Enough to keep things going?', he frowned, 'Even with demonic guests?'
The fact Crowley was again focused on understanding what was going on calmed him down completely, and the room not just stopped shaking, but now had a calming lower light.
A creaking sound made him turn his head.
Bobby got the gesture wrong and started parting from him, but Crowley pulled him back, 'Not yet, please'.
'My pleasure', Bobby kissed his temple and settled back in the embrace, 'Something startled you?'
'I just noticed you conjured a fireplace', Crowley nuzzled against Bobby's neck, 'Keep on talking, pet. I can hear you while I deal with your new magic abilities'.
Bobby chuckled and complied, 'It took some convincing, but the winged idjits agreed to accept the obvious on Heaven's situation'.
'And that would be?'
'If what kept the place going on was angels and souls being happy, we needed to gather more angels and make the souls happier, whatever it took'.
'Makes sense'.
'To be happy in eternity, the souls are kept inside illusions. Each person gets the Paradise they wish for, based on their best memories. They produce happy energy that feeds the machine, and the machine helps with info for accurate illusions'.
'Uhum. Everybody wins'.
'Yeah. The angels' graces kept things working, and when their numbers went down, bad memories started surfacing in the personal Heavens, what accelerated the decaying process and provoked a circle of crappiness'.
Crowley chuckled at the words chosen for the celestial narrative.
Bobby sighed, 'Finally'.
'What?'
'You're getting back to yourself. Pet names and humor'.
Crowley realized that yes, he was feeling more like himself, and the realization just made it easier, 'Well, it's not like I was the grumpy half of the couple'.
Bobby parted enough for them to be face to face.
He was grinning.
That had been a rare and beautiful sight for Crowley.
They stayed looking at each other, enchanted, the conversation forgotten for the moment.
They had obviously missed their time together.
They would obviously enjoy having a new opportunity.
Maybe they could get over whatever it would be required of them.
Crowley was quickly giving up resisting.
'What do you think of having a seat?', Bobby asked, obviously sensing they had reached some new level of understanding, 'We can get comfortable while I give you the details'.
'I think you just want me to lose the pillow, Singer'.
They exchanged knowing smiles.
If Crowley was able to flirt, things were getting back on track.
'It's kind of ridiculous coming from you, to be honest, but you can keep it', Bobby made a gesture to the other side of the room, 'Come on. Let me show off my magic skills'.
A comfortable sofa appeared in front of the fireplace, and Bobby walked there, sat and motioned for Crowley to occupy the seat beside him.
He did so, keeping the pillow on his lap for good measure.
'Do you want me put some clothes on?', the hunter asked, more seriously.
'No need to', Crowley took his time looking at the nude body sharing the sofa with him, 'I think I can cope'.
Bobby chuckled, 'I've missed this'.
Crowley scoffed, 'You're not helping me believe it's really you, Robert'.
'Sorry to get on your nerves, princess'.
'And now I'm a believer'.
The hunter laughed.
Crowley could have melted right there.
Making Robert genuinely laugh was one of the things that made him feel special.
He had the softest of the spots for that man.
'Just go back to the tale, Robert', he decided to contain his emotion for the moment, 'Even if I'm enjoying your efforts to seduce me, I want to understand what is happening'.
Bobby rolled his eyes good naturedly and obliged, 'A team was formed – me, Ash, Charlie, Ellen, Jo and other hunters and generally sharp minded people – and we designed any crazy scheme you can think of to bring back some angels. From time-travel to negotiations with The Empty, we worked like dogs'.
'That's how you got things back on track?'
'Most of it'.
'Let me guess', Crowley squinted, 'As a reward for your help, you gained the right to have any one at your mercy, and you, being the rebellious pretty human you are, went for broke as soon as you knew I had died: you asked to play with my brand new soul for a while', at Bobby's mouth open in shock, he shook his head, 'I knew it. Well, it could be worse, and-'
'You know nothing, idjit!'
For the first time Bobby seemed genuinely annoyed, and Crowley recoiled slightly, grabbing the pillow.
'This is not Hell, stupid. People are not brought here to be played with!', the human snarled, 'I didn't even know what you've been doing until the angels brought the news'.
'You're not making any sense, Robert', Crowley blinked, confused, 'You didn't know what I've been doing but you planned me a nice arrival, you are my ticket but you can't make me stay, I'm in your Heaven but you don't control me', he huffed, 'What am I really doing here?!'
'Can't you see?'
'Obviously, not'.
'You are part of my Heaven', Bobby stared intensely into Crowley's eyes, 'And I hope I am part of yours, too'.