Disclaimer: I don't own a thing, obviously. A.N. Hopefully, enjoy!

Crowley had high hopes for the future, but the time kept stretching with no news from Moose. It was the boredom, really, that got to him. He'd been too good at his job, when reforming hell. He'd hoped for some rightful praise, gratitude even...and well, if anyone did feel any, they were keeping quiet about it.

With the display of his full talents last time, he thought he would have bagged the younger Winchester by now. And yet, the quiet made him wonder. Maybe he'd come on too strong. Reminded Sam by that of exactly what he was, and made old suspicions and regrets about consorting with demons flare up.

Then the boy texted him. Not downright summoned, texted. - Are you available for a night out?

As if Crowley could have devious plans that he wouldn't have dropped for a prospect like that. Only another apocalypse tier event could have got in the way, and in all honesty, that would have been likely to require more time with the Winchesters, not less... Though, probably, not one-on-one. What a pity that would be.

- Sure. Should I pop to the bunker's door, or...? he replied.

Oh, summons incoming now. Well, he'd see.

Sam welcomed him with the softest smile he'd ever seen on the man. Lovely as it was, it disturbed him for a second. Moose hadn't got himself hexed again, or mind-controlled somehow, or... Had he hoped for a partner in a good mood? Sure. This, though...Besides, he was wearing his Fed suit.

Crowley couldn't help himself. He grinned. "I didn't know these rites could bring someone upstairs too soon, but I'll be delighted to stay while you change."

"What's wrong with this?" Oh, here Moose was, frowning again. Things felt a little more normal.

Crowley shrugged. "From a fashion professional point of view or a being around me one? Because the first will take a while to explain, and the second...nothing's wrong, I just assumed you were back from conning some poor officer - for their own good, obviously. But if you want to play, I'm all for it. Just let me know my role."

Oh, here it was. Bitchface 42. "Isn't it a little early for roleplay?"

Oh, brilliant. Early meant there would be a later. And yes, maybe it was just a quip.. but if Sam's subconscious didn't want this date to be the last, as per their agreement...Well, Crowley was already looking forward to whenever the timing would be adequate to sprinkle a little of his acting talent in their relationship, too. It was always nice to show off, plus it kept boredom at bay. He shrugged. "I told you, I'm always open to trying things out."

"Come along, then... Just, huh, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"One of the shows I watched - I would have sworn it was fantasy, but after Chuck, well, it makes you wonder how much fantasy out there might be true - has an angel being the landlord of most of Soho in London. I know you have your places here and there on earth...but you wouldn't happen to own at least a whole district in Kansas City, Missouri, would you?"

"Never really considered real estate as a side career, I'm busy enough."

"We're still going, because...honestly, I might have laughed too much. Where else could I bring you, really?"

Now he was curious.

"On second thought, maybe I should specify that it is - not an oblique way to make a request. You know we've always been very upfront with these things. Speaking of requests though...would you mind bringing Juliet again?"

"Why? Do you foresee the evening not being so peaceful, despite what I am sure are the best of intentions?"

"Not at all. But someone basically left her a standing invitation, so...I thought it would be for the best to have her now, when everyone will be on best behaviour." And here were the dimples. Damn, Moose was distractingly pretty.

"I am pretty sure that I would have noticed something of the sort," Crowley retorted, "but with such a premise? I'll be back in a mo."

A literal one. He wouldn't miss this even if someone decided to stage an uprising right now.

She lay sprawled on the backseat of...whatever Sam had helped himself to from the Men of Letters garage. The idea made him smile. Idiots or worse, the lot of them.

Now? If he played his cards right, he might even gain access to the bunker itself, with nothing to hinder his visits.

The trip wasn't instantaneous, but Crowley didn't complain. He had a very nice view to stare at. Mainly, the small, vaguely smug but always gorgeous smile of someone looking forward to surprising him. If Sam didn't opt for conversation but turned on the music again...well, Crowley had read the books. Moose was so overdue his own pick of a soundtrack.

Kansas City, Missouri was having fun. Musicians and artists at every corner.

"We're in the Arts district, so...Or the Crossroads one, if you prefer. You see why I wondered."

Crowley chuckled. "Not that I know of, no. Maybe I should double-check that someone hasn't started an operation of their own. At least, this is in much better taste than some other initiatives."

Juliet pushed her nose between them, and feeling that, Sam absent-mindedly patted her and then scratched behind her ears. He couldn't see her, but he could feel her just fine.

"Back, girl," Crowley said softly. No, he wasn't jealous of the easy affection his dog was getting. But to people that couldn't see her, Sam had to look weird. "Where's she invited to, by the way?"

"Come along," Moose said. And then...oh, here it was. "Cerbera gallery".

"Seriously?" Crowley exclaimed. "What the hell were these people thinking?"

Sam shrugged. "Since the - a ending is feminine, I guess they're looking for her. Or maybe they want some art from her, even though I can't imagine how she'd create something of her own."

"Of course, now I have to figure that one out. And we'll see once we submit it if they're going to put it on display. In the meantime, though, you're right, Moose. We absolutely need to get in."

It wasn't a long visit by any means - frankly, Crowley didn't appreciate the style of most of the art they peddled, and Sam didn't seem that enthused either. But her tail wagging against their legs made them share a look and chuckle every time they got a hold of themselves. The other visitors weren't impressed with their hilarity, but who cared?

Moose checked the time on his phone. "Anyway, huh, in the spirit of having fun...I mean, we could just wander and see if something's inspiring, but - do tell me if I'm wrong, I assumed you dropped a reference so easily because you actually liked it. Hope it was not at the forefront of your mind because it was traumatizing."

All the rambling was kinda adorable, but... "Get to the point if we have somewhere to be, darling."

The quick glare was expected, but it didn't have true heat behind it. "Arts district. Meaning, there aren't just galleries and clubs... All performing arts are available. Including opera."

"No trauma, no... But don't tell me we're going to the Traviata." Not that he would object, but he didn't think he could stay serious, and it wouldn't do to ruin the tragedy for the rest of the audience.

"Nope. I actually found something from Verdi that doesn't end in carnage."

"Well then, I'm impressed. Let's go."

It turned out to be the very last of Verdi's operas. In his old age, the man had turned to Shakespeare - if you have to steal a plot off someone, why not go for the very best, after all?

Crowley hadn't seen the Verdi version before, but you couldn't help but appreciate Falstaff. A dash of contrasted love actually getting a happy end, and boastful idiocy reaping what it deserved. A boy should know better than copy pasting seductive offers to friends, and the knight was well past that. Fake fairies. All seasoned with Verdi's music, swelling, biting or flowing with the utmost gentleness according to the character's emotions.

It felt a bit weird to hear Shakespeare in Italian, and he glanced at Sam, wondering if he was really just here for his sake. But Moose didn't look like he was zoning out. Crowley was happy to see (possibly developing) good taste. Sam even grinned at the right points (and yes, Crowley was totally side-eyeing the dimples rather than the singers). Sure, he expected the boy to know the story, but to react just right...oh, of course. His rudiments of Latin probably made Moose able to follow the words, at least when the men sang.

Juliet had settled over both their feet, and luckily managed not to snore. Crowley was about to tell her to move, but if Moose didn't complain... Well, he could sympathize with his girl's urge to keep him, one way or another.

They even stayed put at intermissions, chatting about the performance. Lovely all around, but it didn't mean that there wasn't a little something to snark about. They couldn't exactly be sappy, could they? Not yet, at least.

Besides, Crowley wasn't in any rush. Just a pleasurable evening. Moose was such an enjoyable companion tonight. Yes, this was supposed to be their last date. But he wasn't exactly giving him "thrilled to be nearly free of him" vibes. They'd agreed on peaceful company, not thoughtful or funny. Only goodness gives extra.

Enjoyable time flies, though, and sadly not simply because they were upstairs. Eventually, the singers were bowing, receiving their well deserved accolades. Their night would end now, surely? What could he say to be sure they'd meet again without being driven by the needs of the family business?

Before he could find the perfect words, Sam said, "A nightcap before you go?"

"Sure, Moose."

"I know just where."

Crowley mmhed his assent, again.

Where turned out to be a place called The Monarch's Parlor. "It turns out it's actually a reference to butterflies, but you see why, the more I looked, the more I suspected you did own the neighborhood."

Sam grinned at him, and Crowley smiled back. "I don't blame you. Maybe I should actually invest here." A sharp look made him amend, "Legally, I swear. I'm not going around kissing people. Well, there's one person here I might be tempted to kiss."

Immediate bitchface. Seriously? Moose needed to get out more. As if he'd be interested in the local crowd when he had such a bounty at hand.

"You." So maybe Crowley rolled his eyes a little. "The night has been perfect. I thought maybe you could want to satisfy that old curiosity, as thanks. Besides, come on, it'd be hilarious."

"Is that how you seduce people?" At least Sam's smile was back.

"If that's what my partner wants...and I'm the best at understanding that." Hey, false modesty wasn't needed. "Really, though. Aren't you owed some fun, by now? By the universe at large, not me. You can imagine I'm just helping it set things right. Tell me that kissing the king of hell in The Monarch's Parlour, in a crossroads that's not a crossroads, no consequences - well, except that you have my number if you want a repeat, obviously - isn't the most ironic thing you could do."

"Fun without consequences? With you?" Sam snorted.

"I told you. I don't need to trick people. Besides, haven't you been listening tonight? Bocca baciata non perde ventura. A kissed mouth doesn't lose luck."

Sam grimaced a little. "If it ever had any in the first place."

"That's not how it goes," he chided.

"Seriously. Maybe you should reconsider your offer."

"Fun, Moose. Pleasure? You know, how tonight was going, how things could go if you'd only let them? Come on. No moping. You can say no, but don't do it out of some mistaken instinct of being knightly or something. I'm the king of hell. I can handle future challenges." And if he didn't, well, at least he'd die proud and satisfied. It beat having regrets any day.

"No moping," Sam agreed. And then...well, lucky that they were sitting. It made kissing much, much easier. Under the alcohol they'd sampled, Moose was the most delicious creature he'd ever tasted - and Crowley's experience was vast. Still, he couldn't have broken down the ingredients for you. A little supernatural flare might have been involved, actually. Also, you kinda lost your higher head's use when being plundered like that.

It took a lot of time to coax Moose out of his shell, but damn, when you did...better be ready for a wild ride. So maybe one moan ended up swallowed between them. Or two. That was how brilliant nights went.

Eventually, though, they had to part. Annoying, but when one of you was still human, inevitable.

"Memorable, Moose," he declared.

"Really?" Sam sounded surprised, and his lips curled again. Smug, but hey, he'd earned it. Crowley definitely wasn't criticizing.

"Yeah. So, you don't have to wonder anymore. And I'm well repaid. You're a free man. Enjoy."

"Free? After kissing you in this crossroads?" And then Moose went and scratched Juliet behind her ears, because of course she'd laid her head on his knee, and he had figured out her size by now.

How was Crowley supposed not to want to bring him home right here right now?... Oh, his home sucked. Point. Instead of grabbing the man, he chuckled. "You didn't make a wish, though. "

Dimples out, and Moose really shouldn't be able to pull off adorable at the drop of a hat, but he was. "I guess I'll have to come up with one, huh? At some point."

"When you do, you know how to reach me." Tonight was better than he'd even hoped.