Work Text:
As soon as I heard Dean grunt something of a “Crowley” to Sam, I knew I was finally meeting their demon best friend. Finally. Although, I had already figured once Dean saw the “666” calling on his phone even if I am in the other room. Being a telepath has its perks. Just like hearing both ends of a phone conversation. That accent rolled into my mind like a pin on dough, breaking the curves and smoothing itself out.
“C’mon, Y/N, we’re going to meet Crowley,” he called to me from the map room. As he walked away towards the garage, I heard him add on, “For whatever the fuck he wants.”
I shut the book I’d been idly staring at and stood up. Walking towards the garage, I passed Sam who was putting stuff away and paused. “I’m finally meeting your little friend?” I asked.
Sam snorted, “He’s not our friend.”
He’s been inside you, I thought. Must be one hell of an enemy. I walked around the table, picking up a few books. “Y’know, with me there, you can finally know all the gritty details of whatever he’s planning. Know all of the strings attached,” I said.
Sam put away the last of the books that I handed him. “We don’t even know what he wants yet. I just hope he hasn’t caught wind of your abilities,” he replied. I followed him to the garage where Dean was already in the Impala, music muffled by her iron body.
“What’s he gonna do, cuff me to a wall and demand I tell him what everyone’s thinking?” I laughed. Sam looked at me with raised eyebrows and a closed mouth. I mocked a gasp, “Kinky.”
The youngest Winchester opened the door and slid into the passenger seat just as I sat in the back. Metallica blasted throughout the car for the thousandth time. “It’s about time you chatty Cathy’s stopped gabbing,” Dean said over the music. I only smirked and shook my head as the Impala started moving out of the garage.
During the ride to wherever, I tried not to be caught up in the brothers’ thoughts. It was the usual worrying and secret angst that even a non-telepath could pick up on. These were some of the most emotional men I’ve ever met, but they had a right to be. Nobody starts and ends the Apocalypse without being torn.
We ended up pulling up to a hotdog and hamburger shack just outside of Kansas City, Missouri. I glanced at the red and yellow tables trying to define who was Crowley. I broadcasted my basic abilities onto every customer, searching for keywords “Sam”, “Dean”, “King of Hell”, and “demon”. The search led me to a man sitting alone at a red table with only two other chairs. He seemed younger than I imagined, but that made my comfort level a little better. Although, he did happen to have a receding hairline topped off with a widow’s peak. But the lower half of his face was blanketed with scruff, and not gray scruff either. I bit my lip at the sight of his beard, wondering what it felt like. I shook my head and carried on with following Sam and Dean.
Dean immediately took a seat in front of Crowley while Sam glanced at me, wanting to know if I’d rather sit. I waved him off and stood between him and Crowley. I painted a smirk onto my face even though I didn’t know what to expect from this guy.
“Hello boys,” Crowley greeted. His voice sounded different in person, hitting me like a sandstorm. Gritty, gritty voice. But somehow it just matched him and his damn beard. I caught him glancing at my torso before looking at my face. “I see you’ve brought a friend.”
“He stays with us now,” Dean said. He unconsciously pulled a Blue Steel and crossed his arms.
Crowley opened his mouth in an “ah” motion and peeked at me again. “And who might you be?” he asked.
“Y/N,” I replied. Suddenly I wished I had a table to hide my lower self under.
Sam turned to Dean, “Might as well get lunch if we’re talking business at this place.”
I jumped at the chance to walk up to the food shack. “I’ll see if they have salad,” I blurted out and jogged to the stand.
As I scanned the menu, I allowed myself to enter Crowley’s mind. At first, a red flash covered my eyes but only lasted for a second. Must be the whole crossroads demon thing going on. Usually I only saw white when entering a particular person’s mind. My focus functioned like a radio until all of the extra subconscious thoughts faded and I heard what he was concentrating on.
Bullocks, that’s a fine ass.
I froze in front of the cashier who was waiting for my order. “Sir?” she asked, startling me. I apologized and began to ramble the usual for the three of us. She gaze me a number and I stood, waiting for our order.
Once I’d opened Crowley’s cage of thoughts, they all came tumbling in: What a little twink. Okay, that one’s kind of offensive. He’d be perfect under my hands, writhing as I pleasure him. I pulled at the thigh of my jeans, making my crotch area looser. Casually, I glanced at the red table to find Crowley replying to the Winchesters. He wore a smirk just like I had, but mine flew right off once the floodgates opened.
Of course, I’d want a piece of that ass for myself. I’m surprised the Winchesters haven’t even tried to get in his pants. I never perceived Dean as 100% lady killer. I gulped and hastily put on a smile as a tray came out with the number “05” on it. After thanking the worker, I white-knuckled my way through walking back to the table.
I set the tray on the table between Sam and Dean as well as dragged a chair to the table. Dean had taken his bacon cheeseburger - extra onions - and Sam was preparing his salad. Seeing the small space between the brothers, I settled between Sam and Crowley. As much as possible, I concentrated on my food rather than any thoughts or conversation.
There was a moment of silence between them, indicating a bargain was offered. I chewed mindfully on my chicken. Then, I decided to figure out what was going on through Crowley’s thoughts. Instead of an actual thought, I saw an image. A daydream. My gut dropped but all of my blood seemed to rush to my crotch.
I saw myself, on a burgundy duvet covering a king-sized bed. My bare skin - our bare skin - moved before my eyes. Moans filled my ears, both gritty and soft. Three fingers disappeared inside of me while Crowley’s other hand held a bottle of lube. I squeezed my eyes shut as if I could physically stop seeing that image. But, thankfully, a hand nudged me and I saw the hazel eyes of Sam.
“You okay?” he asked. I nodded and gave him a feeble smile. My boner now ached painfully for some sort of friction, and shifting in my seat did not help.
At the end of our “business lunch”, I lingered by the red table while the guys threw away their trash. Crowley’s eyes gazed at my body with a different kind of hunger, and I blushed slightly, pulling my shirt down. “You should really think more quietly, or at least less obscene,” I told him and walked away.
His face in the rearview mirror made it all worth it.