Summary: "One aspect of humanity it was taking time to get used to was how bloody slowly they had to move."
Pairing: Dean x Crowley
Word count: 1,863
Tags/warnings: Show-level shenanigans. Bickering. Innuendo. Post-cure Crowley. @spnquotebingo ("I don't sweat under any circumstances") Belated fills for Rare Ship Bingo and Dean Bingo.
A/N: Thanks to @slytherkins for looking this over and @firefly-in-darkness the fancy divider. Gif credit to @slashersivi . Incidentally, you can blame Slytherkins and @demonologist-in-denim for their combined influence in putting this in my head in the first place. It's finally finished!
One aspect of humanity it was taking time to get used to was how bloody slowly they had to move. He had gotten used to the ability to blink himself anywhere on the planet, and now every form of transportation left to Crowley seemed to move at half the speed of eternity. Admittedly, things were a lot faster nowadays than they were in Fergus MacLeod's lifetime, but they were still a downgrade from his time as a demon.
The adrenaline rush that came with taking out a monster, one of the better parts of hunting, was as close as he could get to vanishing from one place and rematerializing in another. Before they got to that point, though, it was a long slog of research, followed by an even longer road trip to the case itself, which left Crowley plenty of time to decide how much he disliked driving.
"You know, we could fly and be there in less than half the time," he remarked as he stowed his duffel in the trunk of the Impala on the morning of their second day on the road.
"Or," Dean replied before he slammed the trunk shut on their luggage and the arsenal hidden underneath, "we could not fly and not worry about getting half our gear through security."
Fair point.
"We'd make better progress on literally any major highway," he argued hours later as they moved along some podunk back road lined on either side with fields and one-traffic-light towns.
"I make better progress when I'm not staring at the same set of tail lights for hours on end," Dean argued back.
Fine, so maybe the scenery was a little better than what the interstate offered...sometimes. It still ate up more of his existence than he cared for. It was insulting, really, to go from teleporting from one side of the globe to the other, to needing to stop and gas up before crossing certain states only to pull over for the night halfway through the journey.
"Would it really kill you to get on a plane once in a while?" he asked after their journey finally saw them parking outside a high-rise in a reasonably sized city. Their first interview was with a wealthy heiress whose father robbed his own bank two days after he dropped dead of a heart attack, and according to the address in Dean's hand, she lived on the top floor.
"I don't trust planes," Dean groused. "I trust my Baby, and she's never let me down."
"Trains, then? Something, Dean. Think of it. Time, efficiency, fossil fuel and emissions, save even more than the innocent public."
"Don't listen to him, sweetheart," Dean said over his shoulder as they walked away from the car. "He's just cranky that he can't pick the music."
"Well, while we're on the subject…" Crowley muttered.
"If I'm going anywhere," Dean insisted, "my Baby is taking me. And no commentary from the peanut gallery about going faster is going to convince me otherwise."
Crowley rolled his eyes. "Fine, then. When we're done with this case, I'm taking a cab to the airport."
"You know what? You do that. You enjoy the delays, and the crowded terminals, and the bad food, and the kids that keep kicking your seat or the lady in front of you reclining back into your personal space or the guy snoring and farting next to you, and Baby and I are going to enjoy the open road, just the two of us. And you know what?"
Crowley turned to Dean, eyebrows raised expectantly.
Dean drew out the answer far longer than was necessary, clearly relishing the fantasy in his head. "I'm...going...to love it."
"Honestly, Dean, I worry you'd love it too much," Crowley replied. "And rather than tag along as a third wheel, I'd rather fly home and leave the two of you to your…" He paused for consideration, then finished. "Fascinating affair."
Dean's brow furrowed for a moment, then he rolled his eyes with a grimace. "You know, I'm not even gonna ask…"
Crowley smiled and they entered the building. It was everything he expected it to be on the inside: sleek and pretentious without an iota of elegance.
"I suppose you want to take the stairs," he remarked as they crossed the lobby, "given your commitment to the path slowest traveled by."
"Actually…" Dean thought it over, then gave a pleasant smile. "We should take the elevator. Why go slower than we have to every time?"
Crowley raised his eyebrows in surprised amusement. "Oh, indeed? Without the slightest fuss? I didn't expect such character development." They reached the elevator and he signaled it, then stepped inside the car and stood aside to let Dean on.
Dean made to follow as Crowley hit the button for the top floor, then ducked back out. Crowley did a double take, then started forward. "Dean! What the hell are you--"
"Race you to the top, smart ass," Dean replied with a sly grin as the door slid closed and the elevator began to move.
Crowley threw his hands in the air, exasperated, then leaned back against the wall of the car. What, was he going to take another elevator?
Bloody Winchesters.
A soft ding sounded and the car shuddered to a halt, called to a stop on the second floor. The door opened and he stood aside to let the newcomer in, but the hallway revealed itself to be empty. Crowley glanced out just in case, and there was no sign of anyone at all.
The door slid shut again and the sudden motion of the car nearly threw him off balance as it resumed its journey up, but he recovered and returned to his place against the wall. He should have known by now that taking shots at Dean's precious car was a surefire way to ruffle his feathers, but was Crowley to blame if Squirrel made the business of feather ruffling so bloody easy? And was it too much to ask that they shave some time off their commute once in a while? He was prepared to argue his case again, but that damned fool had jumped ship at the last possible moment.
He snapped out of his reverie as the elevator stopped again. He heaved a sigh and let his head fall back against the wall and the door opened, but there was no sound of anyone getting into the car. He lifted his head and frowned slightly, in search of whoever called the elevator, but there was only silence.
His eyes narrowed and the elevator began to move. A glance at the readout above the door told him he was on the third floor out of fifteen, and he would already be nearly to the top if it wasn't for--
The elevator stopped at the fourth floor.
"Oh, for the love of--" He broke off with a huff of annoyance, folded his arms, and tapped his foot. A sneaking suspicion introduced itself in his mind, and it was a stupid, childish, ridiculous idea, but so very Dean…
When the elevator stopped at five, he leaned out far enough to listen, but there was no sign of the bowlegged menace. At six, he could almost hear retreating footsteps in the distance. At seven, he distinctly made out labored breathing and heavy footfalls, and it became more and more obvious. Dean was running the stairs and calling the elevator on every floor.
At the ninth floor, he leaned against the wall beside the call button and bent nearly double as he gasped for breath by the time the elevator stopped. Crowley slid his hands into his pockets and raised an eyebrow at him. "Can I give you a lift?"
Dean didn't seem to have the air to answer.
"I don't know how long it's been since you ran stairs, Squirrel, but if you pass out halfway to this interview, I'm going to leave you here and talk to Little Miss Heiress on my own, then maybe pick you up on the way back down."
A dismissive wave was the only reply.
Crowley put out a hand to hold the door open. "Dean," he said sharply, "get in the bloody lift."
Dean rolled his eyes, but got onto the elevator.
"Stubborn arse," Crowley muttered. They made the rest of the trip to the top floor uninterrupted, leaving precious little time for Dean to catch his breath and plenty of time for Crowley to roll his eyes and shake his head at the absurdity of it all. They paused outside the heiress' door and Crowley smoothed his hands over the wrinkles in Dean's jacket, straightened his tie, and gave him a pat on the cheek. "Given the varying states you continually put yourself in, you clean up rather nicely," he remarked. "Have I ever told you that?"
Dean blushed slightly and knocked on the door.
"It's remarkable, you know," Crowley said as they left a quarter hour later. "You ran nine flights of stairs and winded yourself so severely you nearly lost consciousness, but you didn't even break a sweat."
"I don't sweat under any circumstances," Dean scoffed as he called the elevator.
"Is that so?" The elevator arrived and they stepped on, and Crowley added, "I seem to recall you were a bit hot under the collar a few nights ago when, in quite the role reversal, I wasn't moving fast enough for you." He glanced sideways just in time to see Dean shift awkwardly and swallow hard, and he grinned to himself. "How long did I keep you on the hook? I'm afraid I lost track of time, I was so entranced by the way you whimpered, squirmed, and begged--"
"I don't beg, either," Dean cut in gruffly.
"Not in so many words, darling, but trust me, there wasn't a single, glorious inch of you that wasn't desperate for that sweet release I just wouldn't let you have. From the way your toes curled, to the tension in every muscle, to the twitch and throb of your swollen, needy, much-abused co--"
Dean grabbed him by his lapels and forced him back against the wall. He leaned in until there was only a scant inch between their faces, and Crowley could smell the morning's coffee on his breath. "You know, you've been running your mouth an awful lot the last few days," he said, low and serious, "and I'm getting kinda tired of it."
Crowley looked from those plump, perfect lips to those Disney princess eyes, and down to the fists clutching his jacket. "And manhandling me in a lift is your solution? Come on, Dean, you know I'll enjoy it too much."
"Not hardly," Dean replied. "I'm thinking we should finish this hunt, get you somewhere I can go as slow as I damn well please, and we see how long it takes until you're begging for it."
Crowley smiled. "Well. You certainly know how to get a girl's attention, don't you. But you forgot one thing."
"Yeah? What's that?"
He leaned to the side and hit the emergency stop button. "Patience isn't one of my virtues."
These were actually both prompts people had sent me forever ago and I started them both, I swear, I just...well...you know.
Zero Fs given is basically in the hallway of Grady and everyone’s facing off (the cops vs. Team family) and Beth is just like, “nope. not waitng for this to go down,” and just marches over to Daryl, completely ignoring everyone else, and then all the people at Grady are like, “oh shit, she’s with HIM? no wonder she took out Gorman.” and Dawn doesn’t even try to stop any of it from happening and...yeah. deuces.
Aaron finds Beth is when they just get to ASZ and Aaron has recruited Daryl to help find people to “bring into the fold,” but he’s still trying to cope with losing Beth (mainly due to Aaron being all, “you’re a good person, and you can find the good in people,”) so he stays put, at least for the time being. Anyway, Maggie sees him being all kinds of sad and tries to talk to him about it and he snaps at her and kinda lets her have it for giving up on Beth so easily and Aaron comes back and...I think you can figure out the rest.
Now, will I ever get a chance to finish them? We’ll see...
Ah more immediately, having my house back. My grandmother has been here for 3 months after breaking her wrists and she’s finally back home. My mom is still here for a few days. I love them both more than anything but it’s been a LOT of stressful togetherness lol.
12. what is something you want right now?
Double chocolate chunk ice cream from Brusters, to be held in warm strong arms, to win the lottery so my family doesn’t have to worry about day to day money needs
20. what is your favorite song at the moment?
Anything Jensen has sung. I miss him and I miss Dean so I’ve had him on repeat. Probably listening to S.O.B., Wrecking Ball, Sister Christian, Sounds of Someday, and Wild Mountain Thyme the most.
53. 5 things that make me happy
@waywardnerd67 spoiling the hell out of me, making marshmallows, Trump being banned on everything, finally having my SPN blu rays displayed with my Dean Funko POPs, the onion rings I had for dinner
Ok, so since someone beat me to Hopper and Rick, I want to hear about Tony Walks In
Lolll oh god, so this was an idea I came up with right after the Bucky thirst smashed me in the face when I watched Winter Soldier (this was back when I was binging all the Marvel movies for the first time at the beginning of the year). I was thirsting after him and Tony so hard, so I came up with this idea I was pretty set on...until I watched Civil War and realized that no way would these two ever be in the same room together without killing one another, so then this idea kinda went cold, le sigh.
The overall idea was that reader and Bucky think they’re alone in whatever facility that we’d pretend all the Avengers live together in, and so you’re fucking in some random place (couldn’t decide if it was in a bedroom on the bed or spread out on the table in the kitchen...maybe a pool table in a game room, idk) and the door is open and Tony walks by. And he stops...and meanders in. Cue him being a complete asshole via critiquing Bucky’s form and thrusting method, saying his finger to the clit technique is pathetic, etc. Cue Bucky noticing that reader is getting super turned on the more Tony talks, and she soaks his dick more and more the further Tony steps into the room.
Cue it leading to Tony whispering dirty as hell things in reader’s ear (Bucky warns him he can stay and watch, but if he touches reader he’s a dead man). Between Tony’s filthy mouth in her ear and Bucky’s body fucking her, well, you can imagine good times are to be had.
2. What message/advice would you give to your past self?
Break up with the drug dealer, you’re not fat, don’t go out with Marcus, you’re not ‘too much’, put your keys down, everything’s going to be ok, call her back, you don’t need that last glass of wine.
3. What is your happy place and why?
(answered this for @slytherkins as well - great minds!) My parents’ house. It’s like a sanctuary, time stops, there’s enough room for eight adults to relax yet it’s cozy. There are a million books to read, a million records to play on my dad’s bitchin stereo, coffee + donuts until it’s time for wine + dinner, foooooood for days. It’s a gorgeous, two corner, fenced-in lot with a 2500 sq. ft. Victorian. And of course, my parents - they’re amazing people who I still learn from and they still learn from us - including my sister’s daughters.
8. What is the movie/book/tv show that made you think a lot or made you change something about yourself?
(also asked by Slytherkins!) Princess Leia (so Star Wars) was the first character I recall having an impact of the way I thought and felt. I’ve read the Hunger Games trilogy at least three times, so I’d say Katniss also has had an impact on me. Buffy and Faith, Buffy and Angel (Buffy the Vampire Slayer) -- their relationships resonate with me to this day. And, finally, Supernatural -- now and for years to come with make me think.
15. What is the strangest thing you’ve done or seen?
I’ve seen a lot of strange things, I guess, but the first thing that popped into my mind was seeing the aftermath of a person who’d been hit and killed by a car. I won’t go into detail for not triggering anyone, but I can still see it vividly in my mind and it happened more than 25 years ago.
Summary: A desperate one-time night of passion with Sam revealed a lot of hidden secrets about his preferences in the bedroom. When he confronts you the following day, will he take no for an answer?
Send me a made up fic title and fandom and I’ll write a summary!
Honestly, all of them at the moment. :p Remusly, tho, probably Sam. I don’t relate to him as much as Dean and haven’t given him as much thought as Crowley.
9. Is there one character that you refuse to write? why?
I don’t know that I’d refuse, but I really do not want to ever have an occasion to write Lucifer. I just...I just don’t like him. Yeah, yeah. I know. He wore the Mark for a long ass time and yadda yadda. Still don’t like him.
11. Do you prefer to be cold or hot when you write?
I always prefer to be cold in any situation. When I’m hot my brain doesn’t work. All I can focus on is how fucking hot I am and how much I fucking hate being hot.
17. What is the most supportive comment you have gotten?
I...don’t know. I had one reader who used to yell at me a lot? :p I found it helpful, so she kept doing it. (Tho I’m pretty sure she’d have done it regardless.) I rarely get negative comments? I’m not sure what qualifies as ‘supportive’.
20. What story that you have written makes you the happiest to re-read?
Hmmm. I dunno. I don’t generally write happy fics. Probably I Ship Us. It’s the goofiest crack fic I’ve ever written, but no one here is likely to ever read it because it’s a YOI fic. (Though it could use a thorough edit.) There are fics I’m happier with. Chunks of the trilogy, especially. Bits that I read and think, ‘Yeah. That’s good. That hits the spot. That does exactly what I wanted it to do. I done good.’
