Disclaimer: I don't own anything. A.N. If you are here in search of your monthly dose of silly fluff, I officially apologize. It's a mystery how it took this long for my usual angst to do more than peek out.
Crowley really thought they were...well, maybe not settled, but definitely close. That they'd keep having the best of times, and if they were lucky...well, not skirt all conflict, that'd be boring. But he foresaw more little lovers' spats, half manufactured for the pleasure of make-up sex, than any real offense.
If some seer came along and told him he was wrong, he'd have assumed he'd be the guilty party. That he'd overestimate exactly how bendy Sam's morals were willing to be, maybe. He was a demon, after all. Some things that didn't seem like that big of a deal to him – like a little torture among good friends – might prove to be a shockingly upsetting issue.
Not that he had, yet. Well, not since they became a couple at least. Better to be overcautious for a while than to stumble on a dealbreaker. Though it wasn't in their house rules, so...anything not forbidden was allowed, didn't law work like that? Sam should know.
But it was Sam's turn to fuck up, apparently, and Crowley should have remembered: that man didn't do anything by halves. His messes were at least as large as him, though this time there was no incoming apocalypse involved. Yay, right?
Well, not so much. An apocalypse would be something they're used to handling, by now.
Giving his mum a reason to gloat at his expense? Crowley found himself wondering if it was Moose who'd given him enough of a reason to call their utterly agreeable arrangement off. Inadvertently, in all probability, rather than purposely cruel, Crowley was ready to admit it.
He just wasn't sure if it would make this better or even fucking worse. Wasn't Moose supposed to be the smart one? Why would he do something like this without thinking of the obvious consequences?
If that wasn't bad enough, he couldn't figure out Sam's reasons for his choice. It wasn't like Crowley hadn't been forthcoming. If Sam was curious – about anything – all he had to do was shoot him a text. A call. A bloody photo of a Pictionary attempt to convey his question, if he wanted to make things awkward and difficult for the demon. Moose had many, many talents, but drawing wasn't one of them.
Instead, he had to be a underhanded, secretive bitch (Squirrel was definitely onto something with that nickname) and involve mummy dearest.
It was Crowley's luck that Rowena couldn't resist the chance to flaunt the error of his ways, instead of high-fiving Moose when offered the option to act against him. Maybe she did it because Sam's plan wasn't vicious enough for her tastes. Still, as bitter as that knowledge was to swallow, at least now he knew. Moose could say he loved him all he wanted, but for fucking sure he didn't trust him.
"Fergus, here you are," she'd said, strolling in. He'd long given up on correcting her. "We need to talk."
"About?" He'd asked, already holding back a put-upon sigh.
"Those Winchesters." She did know how to make two simple words sound dramatic.
"I told you, they're my concern, you don't need to worry about them," he'd snapped.
"I wish I could," she'd answered, glaring at him, "but they sought me out. The tall one, specifically."
"What did you do now, that Sam is coming after you?" He'd really thought that Moose was planning to rid him of his mother, and even wondered if he should put a word in in her defense or consider it fate's way to finally rid him of the nuisance for good.
"I said sought me out, Fergus. As a consultant. He does know that there's no higher expert on the specific brand of spell he wanted, even if he had to explain himself in tragically pedestrian terms."
"That doesn't sound like Moose, actually." Could it be a shapeshifter or other mimic? Then again, if his mother couldn't tell a human from a monster, she'd have been eaten a long, long time ago. Which might have been a relief for him, because he wouldn't have to deal with her smug face right now.
"Less sass, more watching your back, Fergus, as I told you too many times already. He came to me because spells capable of affecting demons are my field -after I heard about your deal coming to pass, well, a mother needs to vent."
Or maybe she did know that he'd eventually be demonized, and she wanted to have a way to kill him if he went after her. He knew better than to trust her.
"So what, is he coming after me?" Not a complaint, not a warning, not a chance for him to amend his ways...again, that didn't sound like Moose at all. Crowley had honestly wondered if he might have been...occupied by someone since their last meeting.
"That would at least make sense." No it wouldn't, but he wasn't about to argue with his mum. "He's a hunter." True, but he wasn't going to explain to her everything else Moose was.
"But no – would you believe it, that he led with 'so, we watched Wonder Woman'? A truth spell. A truth spell that could compel any demon, emphasis on any. And given these boys' tendency to just put down the odd subject of yours they come across... I do not know what they're truly after, Fergus. But apparently, they're aware that their combined talents at interrogation would lead them nowhere."
"What have you told him?"
"That I'd never needed such a spell, and I would need some time to concoct one, obviously. I wouldn't take from you the pleasure of revenge for such a transgression. I would, though, like to see it happen."
Her smile made his skin crawl. Maybe he should be embarrassed about how easily she could still affect him, but...parents. Maybe r-selected species had it right. When everyone's parents gave you you a ton and a half of siblings and fucked off at birth, if not earlier, there was no space for them to ruin your life. And no reason to feel abandoned, when everyone was in the same boat. True, the ninety percent or so of your siblings will be eaten, but you haven't got time or reason to bond with them either. Once you survived infancy, it sounded positively relaxing in comparison. "We'll see," he'd grumbled, and here he was.
Wondering how the hell they had gotten to this point. How he was supposed to react. Whether lashing out without a care if Moose even survived (he should have known better than to plot against him, really) was worth the eventual buggering retaliation from one Dean Winchester. Also, Squirrel'd find a way to bring Moose back if it killed him, so... he should probably find a slightly more contained way to put his point across. It wouldn't do to turn this into another fool's errand, like too many entities had discovered trying to deal with the Winchesters to be.
Then again, it wouldn't be the first time mummy dearest tried to manipulate him. Or the twelfth, at that. Crowley breathed deeply. The least he could do was double-check if she'd been spouting nonsense. And yes, he expected Moose to fess up to his plans. Which might be stupid, but then again... Going behind someone's back, it was pretty much par for the course for the man. Denying the truth once he was caught? He'd usually had more respect than that, and Crowley hoped he'd show him at least the same courtesy.
In the end, he texted Moose. – We need to talk. In person. –
Of course, this was the time an answer took ages to come, or at least so it felt...Fine, Crowley was at least half-blaming Hell Time. Sam could have been on a case, or asleep, or on a case and then passed out... the man wasn't purposefully ignoring him.
But finally he received a – Bunker's door is open – so if he had been on a case, he'd waited to be back home.
Perhaps Crowley shouldn't have begrudged him wanting the advantage of his home turf, but he was feeling less than charitable when he slipped inside. At least Squirrel was nowhere to be seen – no attempt to find safety in numbers.
Not that it looked like Moose knew he needed safety precautions, because he still welcomed Crowley with a smile, the insolent brat. Or maybe his mother lied. Fuck, Crowley wanted to believe that smile. Then again, if it was deception, he saw why Lucifer had wanted to wear Sam so bad.
"What's wrong?" Sam asked, a little frown appearing once he noticed Crowley's mood.
"You tell me. There's nothing you've done that I could be less than chuffed about? Really?"
"We haven't seen a demon but you in ages, so we shouldn't have ruined any plans." Moose shrugged.
"Not a demon. A witch." Crowley was tired of this.
If Sam had said they hadn't come across a witch in months, he would have believed him...maybe. Instead, he said, "Oh."
"Slipped your mind, did it?" Crowley snarled.
"I thought Rowena would have been more professional and not babbled about it." The fucker had the gall to be annoyed, instead of contrite. Even if, at this point, Crowley wasn't sure contrition would have helped him much.
"Lodge a complaint," the demon replied. "Assuming you won't have anything else to worry about."
"Wait, why are you angry? I thought you'd get it."
"Oh, I do. You don't trust me, and you're planning something that needs accurate information. I have to assume it's something you know I'd hate, and that's why you were plotting instead of asking. Come on, out with the truth."
"I do trust you, but I'm tired." Sam sighed.
"Yeah, well, I don't own you. A simple 'I'm not interested anymore' would have sufficed. Unless...you figured out your measly knife wouldn't be enough and wanted to make sure I'd go like the rest of your exes. Is that what you needed to discover? How to kill me?" It wouldn't even be surprising.
"Fuck no. Can you stop putting words in my mouth? It's not sexy." Bitchface. Moose had the gall to bitchface him.
"Yeah well, I'm not concerned with that at the moment," Crowley retorted, glaring right back.
"Listen to me. I'm not tired of you. I'm tired of Dean..."
Before Crowley could express his shock at the news, or say what a nonsequitur that was given Moose going to Rowena, he raised a hand to quiet him down. Curious about where this was going, Crowley let him.
"...blowing hot and cold about us. Well, mostly cold, actually. And yes, you have come clean to him about your so-called plans, but you know him," he concluded.
"He won't trust me if I simply talk. So if you could prove to him that I am compelled to tell the truth, he might start to understand I'm not going to eventually kill you both, and get off your case. Assuming he's capable of acting rationally "
"And if you were the source of the spell, well, he'd never trust it. Now, a witch. If Rowena had kept her mouth shut, I could have sold the way you don't really like each other to convince Dean it'd work properly. But she had to go and actually be on your side," Sam sighed.
"Not so much on my side as happy to prove me wrong. She might not have all the details, but she knows I'm fond enough of you. She must have danced at the chance to prove me unwise."
Moose laughed. "Maybe Dean and she should hang out. They might prove each other's wrong. Can you imagine it? 'Crowley wants us to be fed to the hounds!' 'Nope, he's the one in danger having your brother around.' Which, seriously, was a bit of overreach. I told her, I got inspired by watching Wonder Woman."
"And why was that supposed to matter?" Crowley asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, Wonder Woman's author was very much into bondage, and it shows. It could have been nothing worse than roleplay, for all she knew."
"Now that's teasing. Is that how you want to earn my forgiveness? Boots and miniskirt?"
"Do I need it?" Sam grinned back
"Oh yes, Moose. You very much do. I get why you didn't want to ask me for a spell, but a head's up would have been nice. Or were you planning to slip it to me without my knowledge?"
"Oh come on. You know me better than that." It's not a bitchface - Moose looks properly disgusted at the insinuation.
"I thought I did, but today? I want to know everything."
Sam shrugged. "I wouldn't bespell you without consent. But I wasn't even sure that it was feasible in the first place, so I didn't want to make you hope for something impossible."
"The spell? Or your brother's eventual approval?"
"Both, maybe. Oh well. It's not like I'm not used to disappointment."
"We'll see about that. But remember, you do need to apologize one of these days. Sparing my feelings, Moose? Really?"
Never mind that it had the exact opposite effect, Crowley was a grown man...and he didn't even especially fawn about Squirrel's blessing. Maybe Sam should stop projecting.
"Noted. And don't worry, it won't happen again."
"It better not," Crowley said, and kissed him. Sure, Moose still needed to earn his forgiveness. But this was for Crowley's own sake. He deserved a treat, or even a dozen.