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“Morning, sleeping beauty.” Crowley singsonged when Bobby opened his eyes and blinked against the harsh sunlight. By now he should’ve known the demon bastard could out-drink him and then some, but hell if it didn’t lead to the most amazing sex.
Bobby turned away from Crowley and grumbled, “Get out.” and wrapped the blanket tighter around himself. The already pressing summer heat made it uncomfortably warm, but it made a statement and that mattered more.
“But baby, that’s nothing like what you said last night. You seemed more than happy to have me inside of you.” Crowley whispered in Bobby’s ear and started peeling away the blanket.
Bobby grabbed the shotgun loaded with salt rounds in one practised movement and pointed it at a surprisingly still naked Crowley. “How many times does it take to get it through your thick skull that we’re just fu-” The shotgun slowly sunk off target as Bobby scented the air. “What smells so good?”
Crowley used the distraction to lift the gun from Bobby and place it under the bed again. “I made us breakfast, princess.”
Bobby stood up and stopped in the doorway, “You don’t even eat.” he stated incredulously.
“Far as I remember, I do eat ass.” Crowley jabbed and cupped Bobby’s cheek.
Bobby allowed the touch, until he spoke, “Well, you are what you eat. Now shut up and have breakfast with me already, ya big sap,” and crushed the demon’s hand in a death-grip and pulled him downstairs.
Bobby would never admit it, but ever since he and Crowley started... this, more and more of the king of hell started reflecting in the interior of his house. It would all be temporary of course, there was nothing but sexual chemistry between them. It meant nothing that Crowley made him breakfast regularly and that demons never bothered him anymore. Neither did the fact that he always had a reserve of Crowley’s favourite Whiskey or that he consulted Crowley about any supernatural activity that sounded fishy or new.
The dining room table was filled with delicacies of all nations, rarities that only the top 1% could afford to put on one table. Candles floated throughout the room, undoubtedly spellwork. It was almost comical to see all this in the rundown house with the small table trying to support the weight of the exotic meals, Bobby couldn’t help the curl of his mouth as he smelled the “commoner foods” Crowley had hidden in the oven.
When Bobby moved to sit down on the throne-like chair Crowley pulled it out for him. “What are you up to?” Bobby demanded.
“I have no idea what you’re referring to, sweet pea,” Crowley said, not even remotely subtle about his dishonesty.
“You’ve been shifty for weeks, this breakfast is excessive even for you, and you’re even more insufferably alpha-courting-an-omega-like.” Bobby gestured at the setup and Crowley’s birthday suit before continuing, “I ain’t stupid, I know you, and I sure as hell ain’t an omega so ya can’t keep this from me, alpha.” The alpha tone in his voice was unmistakable.
“Surely you figured me out because this is purely a lust thing and not anything remotely related to feelings, Alpha.”
“Will ya just fess up already ‘nd let me determine if I’m puttin’ ya on chastity or not for goin’ behind my back.”
At that Crowley stood up abruptly, he muttered under his breath for a little and then sighed. “Fine.” It sounded as far from agreement as it could get.
“Remember how I resurrected you?” Crowley started. When Bobby showed no reaction he continued: “That was a lie, you’ve been in hell the whole time. Firstly, I personally showed up to personify one of your biggest fears i.e. having feelings for a male alpha demon, but as time went on it became less about owning your soul by right and more about wanting to own your metaphorical soul.”
Bobby rolled his eyes. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“How did you-you know what? I’m not even going to question it.” Crowley shrugged off his initial confusion and took a scroll out of his jacket pocket. “I wanted to give you this.”
Sweat was rolling down Crowley’s back as he watched his... Bobby scrunched his eyebrows while he read. Such things should not happen to a demon, but even now the effects of the human blood treatment lingered. And Crowley was feeling things.
“So... unless I’ve gotten sloppy on my ancient Greek,” Bobby raised an eyebrow and tried to meet Crowley’s eyes, “you want to give me the moon? The actual moon?”
“You’ll be the only person who can actually say I hung the moon for ya,” Crowley said with a wavering voice.
Bobby remained silent for a long time, his face betraying a journey of emotions. “Why?” He finally asked.
Crowley got down on one knee, which was an interesting display with the lack of clothes, and declared: “Robert Steven Singer, will you marry me?”
“You can’t marry a dead person, ya idjit.” Bobby blurted out, seemingly shocked at his choice of reply as well.
“Not legally in the world above, no, but in this alternate reality you’ve been enjoying we can,” Crowley replied as though scripted, getting up from the less than comfortable position.
Bobby considered it for a moment. “Fair point, but what’s the rush? Far as I know we’ve got eternity to spend with each other, literally.”
Crowley opened a bottle of Craig and poured a generous glass and placed it in front of Bobby “About that... I’m giving up hell which will definitely get me killed if the Winchesters don’t do so first... and I-”
“Wanted to marry me before you’re god knows where demons go to die.” Bobby interrupted. He took a swig from the whiskey while Crowley was chugging it straight from the bottle at an inhumane speed.
“Alright, you own my soul in both the literal and figurative sense anyway. Let’s get married.” Bobby stated nonchalantly and the old men raised their respective quantities of alcohol
When they’d both ran out of drink Crowley turned to his Fiancé with the most earnest smile Bobby’d ever seen on the demon. “I love you, Alpha.” Crowley said.
“Yeah, yeah... you too. Now get some damn clothes on and start planning our weddin’. I might like yer ass but that don’t mean I want to see it all day.” Bobby jabbed, but there was only warmth behind it.