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“Nice wheels,” Crowley says with open delight as he settles into Castiel's purloined truck.
Castiel rolls his eyes and starts the engine. “Crowley. You're assisting me with Lucifer. We don't need to speak.”
Crowley holds up both palms. “Me? Assisting you? I think it's the other way around, sunshine.” The truck is silent for exactly four minutes. “We should get a dog.”
“And why,” Castiel asks in his most long suffering tone, “on earth would we get a dog?”
“Well, it's you! Me! The Lucifer fighting duo. Think of the marketing potential alone. You'll be the by-the-book cop loyal to the rules of Heaven.” Crowley makes a gagging sound, then continues, “and I'll be the renegade supercop who's out to break the system. The dog is the perfect comedy foil. Hell, it can even be a talking dog. It's the perfect buddy comedy.”
“We are not buddies.” After a pause Castiel adds, “and this is not funny.”
“Funny? It's bloody hilarious. You're who I'm stuck with to hunt Lucifer – the bastard that stole my throne just last year. And you're about as smooth as the outside of a pineapple. This is definitely going to end well.”
Castiel responsibly slows the truck and glides to a stop as a stoplight turns red. He turns to Crowley. “And there we agree. This may not end well for either of us.”
Crowley snorts. “Since when has that ever stopped either of us.”
“We do seem to survive some unlikely situations.”
“Understatement.” He chuckles. “Well, I do, anyway. You've been plucked off the tree a few times since I've known you.”
“Yes.” Castiel glowers through the windshield until the light turns green. They drive a few blocks before he says, “Crowley.”
“Yes? Cas?” Crowley over-emphasizes Castiel's name so it sounds like an insult.
“You were separated from your mother for centuries. When she returned to you did it- That is, was she a, uh, good thing? In your life?”
Crowley laughs. “Are you serious? Are you actually asking me this question right now? You know Rowena. You've been rabid-dog cursed by Rowena. How can having her around ever be a good thing? Ever?”
Castiel shakes his head. “I am serious, Crowley. I've noticed a bond between you and your mother that I've had trouble understanding. You are both immensely destructive beings. By all odds you should have torn each other apart at the outset. And yet your relationship seems indelible.”
Crowley full body shudders at the word relationship. “Oh is that so, Columbo? The fact that she's a very powerful witch who I can use probably has nothing to do with our 'relationship'.”
“I'm not saying that's not a part of it. I just wonder if that's all of it?” Castiel squints at Crowley who glares in return, face turning a deep, enraged red. “Do family bonds change shape or lose strength over time? And if so, can they ever be reforged into what they were before?”
Crowley's mouth is drawn up in a sneer and he presses against the passenger door as though leaning away from something disgusting. He narrows his eyes. “Why are you asking?”
“No reason,” Castiel says too quickly and then they're at their destination. He parks the car and opens his door. “Now, Crowley, I've had experience interrogating perps. You let me take the lead, alright?”
Crowley makes a disgusted tchhh sound with his teeth and says, “I'm getting too old for this shit.” After a beat he adds, “because I'm over 350 years old.” He smiles, eyebrows arched.
Castiel scowls and slams the door shut. “I'm much older than you,” he says as he stalks up the sidewalk. “I take the lead.” He's already rehearsing his opener: I'm Agent Beyoncé and this is my partner, Agent Zee. FBI.
Smooth.