Disclaimer: I don't own, duh. A.N. Hope you enjoy! :-)
That last night was so brilliant that Crowley decided to push a little bit more. He could always fall back to behaving if things turned sour, but he didn't become a demon in order to behave, did he now?
Instead of waiting for Sam to summon him - either ritually or by text - he texted first. No, not "See you in five," he still had some self-preservation, and you never knew what you might interrupt. He'd rather not become a distraction while they were getting tossed around by a poltergeist or something. If a monster got the drop on one of them because he popped by, he'd regret it for the rest of his undoubtedly long and unpleasant existence.
Instead, he texted, - Bo-ored.
When that went ignored...well, Moose could have been busy. So many ways to entertain himself upstairs. But he'd read it. Shouldn't that mean that he had two seconds to answer? Even just leave me alone?"
So after a short while, he tried again. - Suggestions?
This time he was awarded a reply. -I'm actually trying to think of anything else but what I'm thinking.
-OOoh, do share with the class. Sounds interesting.
If he'd hoped for an invitation, or something even juicier, that was his prerogative.
Instead, he got -You reminded me of Moriarty. And that is NOT meant to be a suggestion.
-Create a case or a dozen to play with my favorite nemesis? I wouldn't. He died, you know. Not that Sherlock was too happy either. Oh, want to know a secret?
-Always.
Noted. It really was easy to reel Moose in. Knowledge was his catnip. -The Moffat and Gatiss that went home from San Diego Comic-Con 2013 weren't exactly the same ones who came here. And for all their smugness, the British missed that.
- They should have known. Hell, I should have known.
-I see you watched it all. Condolences.
- Thanks. Anyway, sorry, but I'm no entertainer. Actually, I was trying to get things done, but...they're kinda boring, too. Maybe we both should actually try to get things done.
-Oh come on. If you're bored, I'm bored...no lives on the line, I assume, you have way too much conscience to get distracted in that case, no matter how brain-numbing combing through old papers might be... Shouldn't we stop being bored? Preferably together?
-Tempting. And yes, no lives on the line for now. But I need to understand the bunker's organization for when there will be. What if I don't know how to find the one specific lore reference needed to gank something?
-The bunker will keep. And hey, if you ever are in need of a consultation, you can always hit me up too. I have some expertise of my own. You might be surprised. Hell will definitely keep, it's not going anywhere. Come on. We can take a breather.
-I might end up regretting this, but yes. On one condition.
-Yes.
- You don't even know what.
- I said yes. The likelihood of you wanting something I'm not willing to give is statistically negiglible.
-Bring Juliet along again?
-Sure, Moose. But really? It almost sounds like you like her more than me.
-You have no idea how much I begged to have a dog when I was a kid. I mean, I can see they had a point now, but. Well.
-Still fond. No worries, Juliet and I will be there.
He had enough sense to keep his gut reaction to the revelation to himself. Of course the rest of the Winchesters didn't want to be bothered with a furry companion. They already had the cutest puppy ever in the shape of one Sam Winchester, the early years.
Ignoring petitioners while he texted had been satisfying, but dismissing them entirely, to their bemused surprise, felt even better. Hell could handle itself for a while, and if it couldn't, it deserves whatever it got.
A whistle, and he took a moment to stretch. He needed a more comfortable throne, that was it. Though he doubted that Sam would be up to a trip to Ikea (he wouldn't even be surprised if they did have a throne section). Juliet at his side, he was ready to appear at the bunker's door. Sam hadn't offered him the courtesy of summoning him right in, so he had to knock like anyone else, the place's protections impregnable.
At least Moose opened immediately. Crowley blinked a moment. The flannel was usual. The smile was lovely, and not unexpected. The glasses...were new. And they suited the man. Very much so. Then again, if his usual attire didn't manage to make him look ugly, he doubted there was much that could have.
He couldn't help the quip. "Starting to age, Moose?"
Bitchface n.4, quick and not too intense. "I just wanted to see her. Who's a good girl, huh?"
Juliet's tail wagged madly, and she nosed at his hands. He immediately started to scratch behind her ears.
"You know, you could get a dog now. For one, you have a home base," Crowley said.
Sam shrugged. "Dean'd object anyway."
"But if he couldn't see it..."
Moose burst out laughing, and wasn't that nice. Mirth became him. "Crowley...are you seriously suggesting I adopt a hellhound?"
Crowley shrugged. "It'd be housebroken. And they don't have to eat people, you know. They'll just be happy to destroy whatever you point them to. Monsters, for example."
"Cas would see the puppy, though. Can you imagine how well that conversation would go?"
Crowley snorted. "Point. I won't be dropping any pup on your step before you've won everyone over."
"Or, you know, maybe someday I'll manage to talk them round to get a normal dog. Might be easier." He was still petting Juliet, though.
Crowley shrugged. "Yeah, but it wouldn't be as useful. Even if you get a Dane or a Dobermann or a Pitbull...There's no other breed quite like this one to take down any nightmare you might meet. That should count for something, shouldn't it, with your lifestyle?"
"You're not going to talk me into it," Moose huffed.
"I'm not trying. Not really. Just making small talk. Where do you want to go?"
"You wanted to go out, thought you'd have a plan," Moose retorted.
"So long as it's on this plane, I'm utterly flexible."
"That doesn't sound right." Sam smirked.
"Don't underestimate me." Seriously, as if he didn't have complete control of his meatsuit. Moose really should know better. From his round as Meg's, if nothing else.
He didn't expect Sam to shrug and say, "Wasn't trying to start an argument."
"Those books are that boring, huh?"
"The books wouldn't even be boring, if I had nothing to do but skim through them. It's trying to figure out the Men of Letters' logic behind their version of Dewey that is a headache."
"You'll figure it out. As for now... seriously, no wishes?"
"Maybe we shouldn't go too far. I know you can bring us back in a second, but..."
"Moose, you have entirely too much conscience today. But anything's better than hell, so. What's in the neighbourhood?"
"Lebanon doesn't exactly have a ton of attractions, but - there's a path I actually like. No one around for miles, shaded, just...nice. If you think a stroll is an option, anyway."
"Sure. I'd love to learn all your favorite spots. I promise, Juliet won't even chase any squirrels...oh, don't look at me like that, you know I meant furred ones!" Seriously, that bitchface was not warranted. "Where's yours, anyway?"
"You're lucky, he's out chasing...someone. Not in the hunting way, the fun one. Otherwise, we wouldn't be here."
"Why? You haven't yet let him know about our relationship?"
"There's no..." Sam automatically started to object, before he shut his mouth, throwing him an apologetic look. "This...thing is still new. Did I enjoy the time we spent together? Yes. That's why I am not looking forward to being told what I should have known. What I do know, it just didn't stop me. But you know Dean. Making him listen is a hard task at the best of times. He'd probably start planning your murder. And you started our thing by saying you didn't want war."
Crowley grinned. "I definitely don't. And you're sweet, even if I'm not sure who do you think you're protecting from whom. But thing? Weren't you supposed to be a lawyer?"
Moose retorted, "I was. That's why I know it's important to be precise, and frankly, I can't be until I have more data." They'd been walking side by side, Sam leading him through an, indeed, lovely grove...at least if you were the kind of person who appreciated nature's beauty. Juliet had run forward, but was still in sight, and seemed to be enjoying herself.
Sam glanced at him.
"Happy to provide, as ever," he purred.
Still, Sam looked around a last time, as if concerned someone might catch them. Seriously, as if Squirrel would cut short his frolicking. He'd never been the one with premonitions... though Crowley didn't doubt that, if he did suddenly gain them, he would try his best to use them to keep an extra eye on his sibling.
Finally, Moose ducked his head for another kiss. And my, but wasn't he thorough in his explorations. Crowley hit a tree, but frankly, possible concussion was the last of his concerns. His only objections was that it lasted way less than he would have liked, but sitting last time undoubtedly made the experience easier on his partner's spinal column. Or maybe they should try it laying down, there was an idea. He instinctively licked his lips.
"So what's our...mmmh, thing?"
"Still under consideration." Sam sounded a little smug, but frankly, it was a good look on him. His eyes were shining with mirth, and the shaded woods lent them new nuances. Crowley wanted to take a few hours to observe them properly.
"For completeness' sake, maybe, we could try a different position. Or a few." He grinned.
"A few, huh? I'm sure you have a list."
"I'm usually more spontaneous. In keeping with, you know, our surroundings. Let nature go where it will. But if you want some fun files for that archive of yours, once you've figured it out, I am sure we could come to an agreement. I'm never without pen and paper - old habits, you know..." He shrugged.
Sam huffed, rather Moose-like. "Don't remind me of work."
"Sorry," and he actually was. The last thing he wanted was to make the boy's conscience rear its ugly head again and cut the fun short. "If it helps, I'm sure some playtime is healthy for you. Ask anyone, they'll have to admit that."
"Play, huh? Is that what we're doing?" Sam teased.
"I certainly hope it isn't work. Whatever obligations could be construed between us are gone, so. Unless you have secret, devious plans..." he shrugged.
"Isn't that your thing?" Moose retorted.
"Sometimes, sure. Not right now. Why waste the brain power on plotting when you're going to ruin everything anyway. As much as I appreciate the elegance of Sisyphus' fate, I'm not really into taking his place myself."
"So was boredom actually behind the shift you suggested in our situation? Admit you can't beat them, so join them?"
"Not quite. More like why should we all keep running from one tragedy to the next like dumb hamsters on a spiked wheel, when we can get down and go snack on the finest cilantro, or whatever hamsters actually like." He wasn't a very good owner for Olivette, but he didn't actually mean to be, either.
Moose laughed so hard that Juliet trotted back. Whether to join the fun or to check out the sudden noise was anyone's guess.
"That was quite the mental image. Sorry. Imagined hamster you still in a perfectly tailored suit, and -" he snickered again.
"I could actually change you, you know," Crowley pointed out mildly, "but I don't think you need to be punished. What I'm hearing is that you are aware that my elegance is so innate that not even a rodent transformation would erode it."
"Sure." Moose had calmed down, but was still grinning from ear to ear. The mere fact that he was going along with that interpretation...he wanted to keep things nice between them. And hopefully move onto some of the next few positions. What a sweet change.