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“Get off my throne, Dean”
There he sits, his legs dangling over the armrest.
“Make me!”, he smirks. The nasty glint in his black eyes bespeak he already has something in mind. But Crowley won’t be King of Hell if his actions are predictable. He reappears just seconds later.
“You brought pie!”
“I baked pie!”
While Dean takes the plate, Crowley takes his appropriate seat. Dean doesn’t mind, though, just seats himself on Crowley’s lap.
“That’s great”, he comments, his mouth full of cherry pie.
“If you say so.” Crowley doesn’t complain either, just steals a bite of delicious pie.