Disclaimer: I don't own a single thing, duh. A.N. Sorry for the accidental Italian. "Questa donna pagata io l'ho" means "I paid this woman." And if anyone is tempted to watch/listen to the Traviata afterwards, you're welcome. ;D Hope you enjoy!
Crowley expected he wouldn't hear from the Winchesters until the next time they managed to get in trouble. Which...might not be that much later, with the boys' habit of tackling situations they weren't exactly equipped for.
Still, he didn't think he'd be resummoned literally the next weeekend. Topside time, thankfully; if Sam called him back one hour later or so, for him...Crowley had full confidence in himself and his seductive powers. But that could only have meant that, somehow, the boys had managed to get themselves - and probably the world - up to their necks in shit so dire they wouldn't even try to fix it on their own.
Sam's body language was tense, confrontational, but his eyes were softer. Crowley could appreciate an enigma, but all the mixed messages weren't exactly helping him decide how to best approach his Moose. That could happen in dozens of ways, but carelessly should never be contemplated.
They were alone, again. As lovely as that was, that also meant nobody could be used as a distraction or a mediator if a misstep made the scale tip on the side of fighting. Not that he'd be as dead as most demons would in that situation, but he was hoping to tame the boys (this one much more than his sibling), and he hated setbacks.
"How can I help, Moose?" he asked, with a smile.
"I'm not asking for anything. Not this time."
"I'm thrilled you requested my presence just for the pleasure of it," Crowley purred.
Sam flushed, and as pretty as that was, the king of hell hoped he hadn't managed to tip his ambiguous mood right into fury with one quip. If so, the boy needed to learn to take a joke. One'd think that Dean would have taught him better than that, at the very least.
"That's not -" Moose snapped, before taking a deep breath. Crowley curbed the smirk that wanted to break out, because his nickname seemed especially apt when he huffed like that.
And then just barely kept from pinching himself - it wouldn't do to show it - when Sam said, "You were right."
He didn't ask Sam to repeat himself, no matter how tempting it was. Not in the somewhat volatile mood he seemed to be in. Instead, he said, "About?"
Moose grimaced a little, but willingly elaborated. "You were helpful, with that - situation. Not for a deal, so you weren't obligated to, and - you didn't get anything out of it. Literally. I can say all I want that I don't need your favors, or whatever word you decide to use. But I've already accepted one. I owe you. And that's a bad position to be in."
"If we're talking positions, you'll find out I can be accommodating." Crowley leered a little - and received a rather dour bitchface. But Sam's anger seemed deflated enough that the demon quipped, "You should be careful with the openings you offer, if you want to avoid any equivocation, Moose. I promise I'll consider any kind of proposition, though."
"It's not a proposition. It's a recompense. You take it, and at no point in the future will you try to leverage what you've done for me to obtain... whatever your plotting of the moment might entail."
Sam pushed a nondescript bag towards him, and Crowley peered in. Five bottles of Craig. Huh. "So Bobby talked. But you remembered. I'm flattered."
"You shouldn't be. I make a point of knowing the weaknesses of my targets."
"Keep up this flirting, and who knows what might happen." He smirked. "I'm really impressed, though. I didn't think you had the funds for this."
Sam shrugged. Not that he expected the boy to admit where he got them. "It's a good investment. I'll be free, you'll be happy. Worth it."
"No."
"What?" Now Sam's glare was very close to a concerning level.
"Good try. But not worth it, no. Just your legs?" He pointed at them with a smirk. As pretty as the tail had been, they made so many more options available. "Sure, we'd be square. But your memories were all scrambled, too. A few bottles? That's selling yourself way too low. Have some pride, Moose. Any teenager with a working internet connection knows you're the brain of the team. Shouldn't that double its value?"
The poor man looked half sick at the mention of what one could discover about them on the web (as if Crowley wouldn't be able to recognize the soundness of any given source), but retorted,"I have news for you, Crowley. You can't trust everything you find on the web."
The demon pushed the bag back, hiding any regret. "You might not agree that your brain should go for twice its rate, but this? It's still not enough. I don't have a bloody Ko-Fi account, Moose. If you want to stop owing me, fine. But in this case, you don't get to set the price for my help."
Sam crossed his arms in front of himself. "How much, then? And don't even try to say that you'll think about it, or come up with something, or anything like that. I want this over with."
"You know, for someone who is so keen to play the Traviata, you sucked at the honeymoon part of it."
The boy was lucky that his completely befuddled face was so cute. "What?"
"Questa donna pagata io l'ho. Or, this man in our case. You know, regretting accepting someone's favours and wanting to settle the tab - that's one of the main scenes of the opera. And no, despite your record in the field, I'm not going to come down with consumption and succumb after we're done." He was reasonably certain, at least.
Sam snorted. "I'd never expect it. Not even if demons actually could die of sickness. ...Do demons actually have their own illnesses?"
"Luckily, we don't. Orgies are much more entertaining since nobody has to worry about anyone's bill of health. But say we did...You do not actually think I'd answer that truthfully, do you? Would I give you and your brother, of all people, the knowledge to come up with a biological weapon?"
"Should I be flattered that you think we could engineer one?" Moose smiled.
"Assuming you can do anything at all worked well for me till now. Underestimation can be lethal. Which is why I'm just a little bit offended that you tried to sell yourself short. That's a mistake you'll never see me make."
"Well then, if you prize me so much, you should know you can't just ramble on till I forget tonight's point. What do you want to erase any debt I've accidentally accrued?" And the glare was back.
"As I said, you make a very poor Alfredo. Don't look at me like that, Moose, it's not your cooking I'm disparaging. Alfredo Germont is the Traviata's protagonist. You can't jump straight to the end of the second act, it doesn't work like that."
Sam didn't seem too enthused with being compared to the hero of an opera. Then again, if he did know the opera - which he clearly didn't - he would have had reason to be disgusted, too. Alfredo was an overly emotional idiot if there was ever one. "Stop digressing," he snapped.
"I'm not - entirely. See, if you want to play that role, you have to give me the fun bits too. Don't worry, I'm not going to ask to move in together with you. I'm pretty sure someone would have a fit. And while I could, I'm not even demanding for us to party with friends. What I want, Moose, is three dates. Six hours-ish. No murder attempts. Just a lovely, enjoyable time. You can pick the activity or leave it to me. Nothing untoward will happen...unless you ask for it."
One of Sam's eyebrows went up. "Why would I agree to that?"
"Because you want to stop feeling indebted to me." Crowley shrugged. Sure, he'd been a little snarky last time, but he hadn't even pushed the issue that much. He wasn't lording that over any of the Winchester boys...not this time.
Moose could have just decided to ignore Crowley's credit. Deny that any existed. Now and whenever the king of hell tried to cash it. He'd already got what he needed, after all. It's not like Crowley could make him do anything - or had any card to play if he didn't behave. No, it was all Moose's conscience that apparently reared up. In his favour. It would have been truly hilarious if it wasn't also a little adorable.
Annoyed bitchface coming up. But, miraculously, no argument...yet.
Crowley couldn't help himself. "Besides, why would you even be opposed? I get what I want for three nights. Not that big of a deal, is it? Yes, I'll have a few chances to show you that we don't need to keep pretending to hate each other. You can always ignore it ever happened afterwards. That's the Winchester way, isn't it?" Sam could ask Squirrel for pointers if he had trouble with it. The man could teach PhDs on denial.
"And you wouldn't try anything else?"
Crowley laughed. "It's me you're talking about, Moose. Of course I'll come up with something. I need to entertain myself, after all. But for the same reason, I won't repeat myself. I won't ask you to trust me, that'd be exceedingly silly of you. But trust that I won't be dull. I want out of hell. At least for a little while."
"If all you want is entertainment...have you tried Netflix instead?" Sam retorted.
"Why, do you want to share your password to start with?" And then, hopefully, the rest.
"Don't tell me you can't afford it," Moose sneered.
"Please." Crowley rolled his eyes. "As if something that sent you DVDs via mail could become that successful without a little extra help. Though, they've managed to talk their way into an one-of-a-kind contract, I'll tell you that. A glance at your queue, now that'd be priceless."
It was Sam's turn to laugh. "That's a word I thought you'd never use. Besides, you gave them a special contract, and you didn't get everyone's data out of it?"
"I have something way better... But I don't kiss and tell. The details, at least. You know, in case you were worried."
"Why would I be?"
"Well, you didn't seem to like my proposal. The only reason for that I can imagine is that you assume you won't be able to resist my charms for three nights. " He smirked.
The bitchface that statement evoked could only be described as royal. "For your information, smugness isn't attractive. At all."
"Noted. I appreciate you putting some work into our relationship, Moose. Communication is important."
"We don't... we'll never have a relationship. Understood?" Oh, but the boy was sexy when he turned all stern and commanding. Crowley was a king. One who couldn't wait to give up a few responsibilities, at least for a while. Nah, he would never drop his own crown in the supposed-to-be boyking's lap, even if that was a completely acceptable way to abdicate in someone's favour. But he could almost taste how relaxing a night in Moose's hands could be, if only he could be persuaded to grab what he'd basically admitted he wanted.
Seriously, Crowley had never had this much trouble getting people to let themselves have something. Usually, for a deal, he neeeded to assure them that yes, he was, in fact, able to provide the person's wish, no matter how outlandish. Not cajole anyone into trusting their own desires.
"We might not have as deep a relationship as we'd both appreciate... And we won't, unless you ask me to reconsider. Politely, Moose. But you did admit we are tied, and we will be, until you take the right steps. "
"That doesn't count." Sam snapped.
"If it doesn't, just ignore it. But we both know you won't." Crowley grinned up at him.
He expected more glaring, maybe. Not that Moose would push the Craig bag back towards him. "Just take it out of my hands. Even if it doesn't count. If Dean finds it, he's going to have questions. The last thing I need is for him to think I am back on old paths."
"Well, if it's as a favour..." Crowley laughed at the boy's incredulous look. "Don't worry, Moose, this one definitely pays for itself."