Work Text:
When his cell phone rang, the King of Hell fumbled impatiently around in his pocket for it, hoping that it was a certain someone he was eager to hear from. To his disappointment, the caller ID read “Not Moose,” which meant it was someone he was not in the least eager to hear from. Nevertheless, he answered politely.
”Hello, Squirrel. What can I do for you on this fine day?”
Dean Winchester made no pretense of politeness in return. “Is Sam there with you?” he asked brusquely.
Crowley’s eyebrows raised fractionally. “Whyever would you think Moose was with me?” he asked, in tones as innocent as the King of Hell could manage…which was really quite, quite innocent.
“Cut the crap, Crowley!” Dean snarled. “I know that you and Sammy have been sneaking around together behind my back for months now.”
Crowley’s eyebrows went up even higher. Dean knew? And hadn’t come after the King of Hell with everything in his demon-killing repertoire? Interesting!
“That begs the question, Squirrel. Why are you calling me looking for your brother at all? Because if you know about Moose and myself, then you also know we never meet unless you are otherwise occupied. Such as on the frequent nights when you go out tomcatting and tell Moose not to wait up. Yet here you are, calling me from the Bunker on what I believe is a Saturday morning up there—not a particularly good time for tomcatting.”
Dean personally felt that any time was a good time for tomcatting, but he stayed focused on the problem of where Sam might be. “I can’t find Sam, so I thought he might be with you.”
Crowley frowned. If Sam was truly missing, that was worrisome to say the least. “How long since you saw him last?”
“Maybe an hour.”
“What? Squirrel, I know that you don’t like to let Moose out of your sight, but that is ridiculous, even for you.”
“Shut up, Crowley. Sam said he was going on a beer-and-kale run into town, and he took the Impala, which he never does anymore when you two are hooking up, so I assumed he was telling the truth about the errand. When I realized he hadn’t come back, I called him, but he didn’t answer. So I tracked the GPS on his cell phone…”
Crowley snorted. “Of course you did. But sad to say, Moose and I had no plans for this morning, so you were right; apparently, he really did intend to get beer and kale.”
“Well, the GPS said the phone was right here in town. I went to check it out, and the car was parked outside the grocery store with his phone in it. I looked in the store, but he wasn't there.”
“Maybe he went to the pizza place; it’s right across the street from the grocery store.”
Momentarily diverted, Dean asked, “And you know this how?”
“Moose and I have been there together plenty of times,” Crowley admitted.
“You went on pizza dates?” Dean asked incredulously.
“Yes, Squirrel, believe it or not, Moose and I did not meet behind the bowling alley to have sex…every time,” he added slyly.
“Okay, we’re getting off topic here,” Dean said, desperately trying and failing to erase the image of Sam and Crowley having sex up against the fence behind the local bowling alley (where he himself had had more than a few encounters with the local ladies). “Sam wouldn’t have left his phone in the car. Which was unlocked, by the way, so he must have been ambushed the second he got out, and then whoever it was tossed the phone back in, so I couldn’t track where they took him.”
“Ah, well,” Crowley said, sounding smug, “Then isn’t it lucky I can track him anywhere with or without his phone?”
“Oh, does having sex with Sam confer upon you some super-special Sammy-sensing skill now?” Dean asked acerbically.
Ignoring the frankly awesome alliteration, Crowley replied, “I suppose you could call it that,” and he then gave a piercing whistle almost directly into the phone, nearly deafening Dean in one ear.
“Crowley, what the fuck?” Dean yelled, transferring the phone to his other ear.
Crowley did not answer. Instead, Dean heard some hair-raising baying and then Crowley purred, “Juliet, darling girl, my Moose is missing, and I need you to find him for me, sweetheart.” There was a sort of unearthly woof and some panting, apparently noises of doggie agreement. “That’s my best girl,” Crowley said in a fond tone.
“You’re sending a frickin’ Hellhound to look for my brother?” Dean screamed into the phone.
“Calm down, Squirrel. Juliet can go anywhere in Hell or on Earth, and she knows Moose well. She met him when I sent her to save the two of you from being killed that time, and besides, I have his scent all over me every time we…”
“Stop right there,” Dean said, gagging. “Never mind, I get it. How long will this take?”
“Not long at all, in fact, she’s already back.” Dean heard excited barking in the background. “I’m going with her now to retrieve Moose from whatever scrape he’s gotten himself into, and then I’ll bring him straight to the Bunker.”
“And how long will that take?” Dean asked, but Crowley had already rung off. Cursing, Dean ended the call himself, but when he looked up from the phone, there was Crowley, easily carrying Sam bridal style despite his considerable weight. Sam’s face was purpling, he had a split lip, and one eye was swollen half-shut.
As Dean well knew, his brother was over two hundred pounds of solid muscle, and with the difference in height between Sam and Crowley, it certainly looked strange to Dean to see his giant little brother in Crowley’s arms.
“Sammy, what the hell happened?” Dean cried.
“Uhnnn…” Sam said dazedly and then passed out.
Leading the way, Crowley carried Sam to his room (without needing any directions, Dean noted with great irritation) and laid him out on his bed. While Dean removed Sam’s shoes, Crowley loosened Sam’s collar and then bent over and ran a hand through Sam’s hair, looking very much as if he wanted to join Sam on the bed. Perhaps he had forgotten Dean was even there.
“So, do you know what the hell happened?” Dean demanded, hoping to forcefully remind the demon of his presence before Crowley decided to strip and crawl onto the bed next to Sam.
Crowley shrugged. Without taking his eyes off Sam, he said, “By the time I got there, whoever abducted Moose was gone. Probably ran off as soon as Juliet found them. Even if Hellhounds can’t be seen by humans under normal circumstances, their mere presence can be somewhat unnerving.”
Dean rolled his eyes. That was the understatement of the century as far as he was concerned.
“No, I’m afraid we’ll have to wait until Moose wakes up to find out what happened to him.” Crowley continued, now stroking Sam’s cheek gently.
Then he looked up at Dean and his lips curled up into a tiny smirk. “While we wait, is there perhaps something you want to know from me?” he asked sardonically.
“Fuck, yeah,” Dean replied. “What is going on between you and my little brother?”
“I think that should be obvious, Squirrel. Moose and I are, for lack of a better term, dating.” He said the word as if he found the concept personally offensive.
Dean could not imagine Crowley dating anyone. Dinners, movies, flowers—without an ulterior motive? No way. “You better not just be jerking my brother around,” he warned the demon.
Crowley snickered. “At first we were both just jerking each other around, Squirrel,” he drawled, making the double meaning quite clear. “So yes, it may have started out as a bit of fun, scratching an itch, if you will. We met every chance we got…in the backseat of cars, sleazy motel rooms, we didn’t care. But then one day, it wasn’t enough. Meeting now and then wasn’t enough, and just having sex wasn’t enough.” He cocked his head curiously. “But how is it possible that you never confronted Sam about us once you found out? He had no idea that you knew. He was worried you would hit the ceiling if you found out.”
“But not worried enough to stop seeing you,” Dean replied somewhat bitterly. “I kept hoping he would say something to me about it, but I finally came to the conclusion that he was just too embarrassed by the whole slimy situation to bring it up. But, Crowley, you better be damn serious about this, or I swear I…”
Crowley sighed. “We signed an exclusivity contract months back. Moose and I are in it for the long haul. In fact, I’m hoping one day you will become my Squirrel-in-law.”
Dean’s jaw dropped.
On the bed, Sam stirred. Without opening his eyes he said, “Honestly, Crowley, that had to be the worst proposal ever,” although with his split lip, it came out somewhat indistinctly.
Crowley reached out and sandwiched one of Sam’s huge hands between his own, smaller ones.“Then we’re even, because that had to be the worst proposal acceptance ever,” he replied with a wry smile.