FIC: How Was I Supposed To Know, Chapter 10/ ? (Crowley/OFC)
FIC: How Was I Supposed To Know, Chapter 10 / ? (Crowley/OFC)
AUTHOR: anneelliot201
GENRE: Romance/Drama
PAIRING: Crowley/OFC
RATING: NC-17
SPOILERS: Season 8, references to Season 9
SUMMARY: Hazel is an ordinary woman--a blackjack dealer at a casino in the middle of the New Mexican desert--but her world gets turned upside down when a man in a black suit decides to take an interest in her. PLEASE NOTE THIS FIC WAS WRITTEN WHILE WATCHING SEASON 9 AND THEREFORE DOES NOT COMPLY WITH CURRENT CANON. I TOOK THINGS IN A DIFFERENT DIRECTION FOR STORYTELLING PURPOSES.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I haven't written anything in a year and I've NEVER written Supernatural, so be kind. :-) This fic will probably be about 13 chapters and about 50,000 words. I have eleven chapters drafted and need to do my re-writes and finish the rest. Promise I won't leave you hanging if you start this ride with me.
CHAPTER 10
Hazel woke up in stages. The warmth of a body next to her didn’t strike her as unusual until she’d opened her eyes. And there he was, lying on his back next to her with his eyes closed. Her leg was thrown over his thighs and her arm over his chest. She’d been using his shoulder as a pillow.
Hazel pulled back and whispered his name. He opened his eyes, the corners of his lips lifting just enough to hint at a smile. “Yes, darling?”
She pulled away completely and sat up. “I thought you didn’t sleep.”
“I don’t.”
“Your eyes were closed.”
He chuckled. “Just relaxing.”
“You shouldn’t have let me fall asleep on you. What time is it?” Hazel pushed herself out of the bed and ran her fingers through her hair to untangle the strands.
Crowley’s eyes cut over to the clock. “Ten in the morning.”
She remembered talking with him until at least three o’clock in the morning. He’d asked more about her brother, Hank. And he’d refused to tell her much about his life as a human. She found it strange that he was more open about his life as a demon. Falling asleep hadn’t been planned, but it had been a long day and she felt so comfortable next to him. So safe. Which was another strange thing. Safe with a demon.
“Sorry I... trapped you last night.”
“You freed me last night. Staying here was my choice,” he said, sitting up and swinging his legs out of the bed to rest the soles of his shoes on the floor. He looked unflappable while she felt completely out of sorts--still hazy from sleep and feeling such fondness for him. It was becoming harder to remind herself that he was a demon. And those days that he walked into the casino and flirted with her seemed so long ago.
“You don’t eat, right?”
“I don’t need to,” he replied, standing up and rolling his neck from side to side.
“Oh. I’m... I’m going to take a shower and change.” She needed to get away from him for a minute. She was falling for him and she needed to stop because whatever this was would go absolutely nowhere.
She grabbed her duffle of clothes and practically ran out of the bedroom. The bathroom door locked, but she consciously chose not to turn the latch. If he walked in and joined her then... Then she’d let him. She’d welcome it. She’d be that girl for once in her life. She spent the entire time in the shower holding her breath and listening for the low creak of the door opening. It never happened.
Hazel took her time drying herself and dressing in a pair of black leggings and an oversized white T-shirt. She brushed her wet hair and rubbed lotion onto her face before looking at herself in the mirror, wondering what he saw. Maybe nothing. Maybe just a regular girl that he’d manipulated into letting him out of his cage. Except there was really nothing to keep him from walking out of the door, even with the handcuffs on. And he’d stayed. Not just stayed, but let her sleep on him like he’d enjoyed the physical closeness.
She opened the door and walked back into the bedroom, but he was gone. She felt a heaviness in her heart. What if he’d left? What if he was just waiting for daylight to get the hell out of the bunker and away from her? She blinked away the pathetic tears that had started to form in her eyes. She really needed to get over those abandonment issues that she’d been saddled with. So, he left. So what? It wasn’t like she had any claim on him. It wasn’t like she had any right to expect more from a demon.
Hazel had convinced herself he was long gone and was coming up with excuses to tell Dean and Sam when she walked into the main room of the bunker and found Crowley sitting at the table, perusing the binder that had instructions for the bunker. “You’re here,” popped out of her mouth before she had a chance to think.
Crowley looked up and raised his brows. “I am. Is that surprising to you, darling?”
“Yes. I thought you’d leave.” She walked over and sat down across from him.
“I gave you my word I would not.”
She shrugged. “People break promises all the time.”
“I don’t.”
She smiled at him. “I think it’s strange that the only person I know who doesn’t break his promises is a demon.”
“Reneging on deals is bad for business,” he said, looking back down at the binder and flipping to the next page.
“Business,” she said, feeling disappointment licking at her heart. “I let you out and you didn’t kill me in return.”
His gaze lifted up to her. His eyes were dark, but not unkind. “Deals are what I do. What I’ve done for years. Perhaps you’d like to renegotiate your deal? I admit, you did get the short end of the stick. I wouldn’t have killed you anyway.”
Hazel watched him for a long moment. Making any deals with him seemed dangerous. He was too clever and too experienced for her to ever win. “I don’t want to make any deals with you. If it takes a deal to get you to do or not do something, then it’s a lie.”
“A lie?”
“Something you never wanted to do in the first place. If you’re going to do something for me, then I’d rather you do it because you want to, not because you have to or you get something else out of it. That’s... shitty.”
“No quid pro quo for you, then?”
“If you’re going to give something, then give it without strings.”
He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at her. “I don’t know how. Why would you turn down the ability to get something you want?”
“Anything I want is worthless if it isn’t given freely.” This was too much. She was saying too much to him. Hazel stood up from the chair and walked toward the kitchen. “I’m making an omelet for myself. I know you don’t have to eat, but do you want to eat?”
“Yes, love,” he said to her back just as she turned the corner.
******************************************
Their plates were still on the table, empty and waiting to be carried back to the kitchen. Crowley had eaten his omelet with what appeared to be pleasure, not leaving a speck on the plate. They had spent the rest of the morning and into the afternoon reading and talking. Mostly talking. He was still cagey and wouldn’t talk much about himself, though he appeared to be interested in her. Probably to get gather dirt for future use, she thought.
She’d been vacillating back and forth between thinking that he was just using her to believing that he might actually want her. And not just her body. The innuendoes and sexual comments had been thrown into his conversation today, but she never felt pressured or uncomfortable because of them. They were just there, part of him and his personality. Part of his armor, it seemed.
She got up to return the book she’d been looking at instead of reading. He commanded her attention without even trying. And all she could think about was the way he had felt the previous night next to her in bed. After putting way the book, she turned around and walked over to Crowley. The plates were just to his right. Her intention had been to gather them and take them to the kitchen. Instead she found herself looking down into Crowley’s face. He’d turn around when she stepped up next to him.
“What?” she asked, self-consciously chewing her lower lip.
He reached a hand up and captured the tips of her fingers. The chain that connected the cuffs rattled. Like a moth drawn to a flame, she stepped between his knees. “You can’t read all day,” he told her.
“Sure, I can,” she replied. “Besides, we were talking more than reading.”
“Why don’t you talk to me from here?” he asked, lifting his other hand and placing it on her hip. She rested her free hand on his shoulder.
“From where?” she asked.
“From here,” he repeated. A firmer grip on her hand and hip allowed him to pull her down to his lap.
Hazel gasped and wiggled to stand up. “Crowley,” she warned him.
He immediately let go of her, instead moving his hands to cup the sides of her face. “I just want to touch you, love,” he whispered.
She stopped moving, perched sideways on his lap. Her fingers curled over his shoulder as he gently dragged his fingertips down her cheeks and traced her jawline to the point of her chin. “Why?” she asked.
“Because.”
Hazel looked into his dark eyes and felt herself falling. “That’s not a reason.”
“Because I want to,” he amended.
She reached up with her other hand and grazed her fingertips over the scruff of his beard. He leaned into her touch before turning his head and letting his lips brush against her fingers. They were soft and she remembered the way it felt when he’d kissed her. Both times. The kiss in the parking lot had been passionate and deliciously lingering. The kiss in the dungeon had been no less passionate, but it had been laced with his frustration. It had been harder and more demanding. She wondered what it would be like it she kissed him now. Would it be softer, yielding, welcoming? His eyes promised all that and more.
Something had changed in him. She wasn’t sure if it was his gratefulness for her breaking the Devil’s Trap or something else entirely. Maybe a little bit of both. She let her hands caress his ears before sliding her fingers through his short hair. He closed his eyes and let his head fall forward.
“Does that feel good?” she whispered.
“It feels wonderful,” he replied. His voice was barely audible, but in the silence of the bunker she heard every word.
Hazel gently scratched his scalp with her fingernails, starting at the back of his head and moving up to his forehead. He leaned his head back until he was looking up at her again. He looked like he’d been drugged and she’d barely touched him. She thought back to his history--his abusive mother and his difficult relationships that followed. Then his time in hell and the torture he endured and doled out. This type of contact was probably unfamiliar, though he looked as if he enjoyed it.
The chain on his cuffs clinked as he moved his hands to her shoulders and then running them down her arms. His gaze never left hers while he took her hands from his head and held them in front of his face so he could press a kiss to the palm of each. It was such a reverent, delicate thing to do that it stopped her breath for a moment.
He was looking up at her like she was the beginning and end of his world when he let go of her hands. She placed one flat on his chest and let the other rest on his shoulder. "You're very good at this," she murmured.
"Seducing you?" he asked with that cheeky grin.
"Yes. And touching me. For someone who says he's a big bad demon you sure are..."
"Sexy? Yes, I know," he said when he interrupted her.
Hazel laughed, pressing her face into his shoulder and neck. "Whatever you need to tell yourself to get through the day."
"Oh, the things I'd do to you if these shackles were gone." His voice was gruff and darkly sexy.
"Nice things?" she whispered into the scruffy beard on his neck.
"Well, I wouldn't take you for a stroll in the park, so I suppose it depends on your definition of nice."
He lifted his hands, pulling the chain up between them and then back down behind her. She was trapped between his body and the shackles, but it felt cozy instead of claustrophobic. She pressed her nose into his neck and breathed him in as he ran his fingers through her hair.
"Have you discovered the key yet?" he asked.
"What key?" Her head was fuzzy, slow-moving in this pleasurable state. This intimacy with him felt perfect. "The key you gave me?"
"It's on the back of your neck just below your hairline. I put it there when I kissed you that night in the parking lot."
Hazel pulled back. "What?"
He looked almost nervous as he caressed the spot he’d just spoken of. "Don't be cross with me, darling. Perhaps I shouldn't have used you. But I'm glad I did or you wouldn't be here in my lap. And I'm nothing if not a selfish creature."
She reached back and pushed his hand out of the way. She could only feel her smooth skin there. "I don't feel anything."
"It can't be felt."
"Take it back," she demanded.
"It would be too dangerous for me, love."
"And it's not for me?"
She felt the weight of the chain on her upper back as he took her face in both his hands. "Yes, it is. That's why I'm a bastard. I've been trying to make you understand that you should hate me."
"And yet you do eventing you can to make me want you."
He tilted his head back and brushed his lips over hers. “I can’t resist you,” Crowley whispered.
She sighed and kissed him, capturing his mouth with hers. He returned the kiss, urging her with tentative presses of his tongue to part her lips and allow him entrance. She obliged and felt herself fall into the heaven that was kissing him, slowly, leisurely, lovingly.
The door above them clicked and opened with the crunch of rusty hinges. She jerked back and turned her wide eyes up to the door, then back to Crowley. He sighed and lifted his arms up to free her from his grasp. Wasting no time, she jumped out of his lap so whoever was entering wouldn’t get the wrong--or right--idea about what was happening between her and the demon behind her.
Dean stepped in, plastic grocery bags hanging from his arm. Sam followed closely behind, shutting the door and throwing the latch. When they turned around and looked down to the main floor from the landing above, Hazel held out her arms, trying to block the view of Crowley even though it wasn’t possible.
“Don’t freak out. I can explain,” she told them.
They both dropped what they were holding and rushed down the stairs. “What the hell?” Dean yelled.
Hazel tried to shield Crowley with her body as they came toward her. “I let him out. It was my idea. He hasn’t hurt anyone.”
“He’s a piece of shit and he HAS hurt people,” Dean said, pulling up short when he got to Hazel and she didn’t move.
“Hazel, move,” Sam told her, holding his hands up.
“Guys, he’s not hurting anyone right now.”
“Only because he’s got a leash on,” Dean said. “He just tricked you into letting him out.”
Sam gingerly placed his hand on her shoulder. “He’s dangerous, Hazel. And he’s manipulative.”
“I let him out because I wanted to. He didn’t ask me. Keeping him chain up in there... That makes you just as bad as any of them.”
“He’s killed innocent people,” Sam replied.
Hazel nodded. “I get that. But...”
“No, you don’t get that if you’re giving us a but,” Dean snapped. He took both her shoulders in his and forcibly moved her to the side.
Crowley stood as soon as Dean touched her and for a moment Hazel feared that the two of them would come to blows.
“No trust in me, Squirrel?” Crowley asked, his voice deceptively level and nonchalant.
“Dean, he’s safe. He can’t hurt anyone with the cuffs on. Why do you have to leave him trapped in the dark in there?” Hazel asked.
Sam wrapped an arm around her shoulders and turned her away, trying to walk her toward the kitchen. She struggled against him when she heard a scuffle. Dean had grabbed a fist-full of Crowley’s suit jacket and pushed him toward the hallway that led to the dungeon.
Crowley looked over his shoulder and locked gazes with her. “Leave it,” he told her before turning back to the hallway and letting Dean push him forward.
“Sam, he’s different. I don’t know what he was before, but I don’t think he’s that anymore. I think your blood changed him.”
Sam let go of her, surprise written on his face. “He told you about that?”
“Yes, he seems so sad. I just... I... we just talked. He never tried to leave.”
“He’s dangerous.”
“I know. You keep telling me this. But you’re dangerous, too, right?”
AUTHOR: anneelliot201
GENRE: Romance/Drama
PAIRING: Crowley/OFC
RATING: NC-17
SPOILERS: Season 8, references to Season 9
SUMMARY: Hazel is an ordinary woman--a blackjack dealer at a casino in the middle of the New Mexican desert--but her world gets turned upside down when a man in a black suit decides to take an interest in her. PLEASE NOTE THIS FIC WAS WRITTEN WHILE WATCHING SEASON 9 AND THEREFORE DOES NOT COMPLY WITH CURRENT CANON. I TOOK THINGS IN A DIFFERENT DIRECTION FOR STORYTELLING PURPOSES.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I haven't written anything in a year and I've NEVER written Supernatural, so be kind. :-) This fic will probably be about 13 chapters and about 50,000 words. I have eleven chapters drafted and need to do my re-writes and finish the rest. Promise I won't leave you hanging if you start this ride with me.
CHAPTER 10
Hazel woke up in stages. The warmth of a body next to her didn’t strike her as unusual until she’d opened her eyes. And there he was, lying on his back next to her with his eyes closed. Her leg was thrown over his thighs and her arm over his chest. She’d been using his shoulder as a pillow.
Hazel pulled back and whispered his name. He opened his eyes, the corners of his lips lifting just enough to hint at a smile. “Yes, darling?”
She pulled away completely and sat up. “I thought you didn’t sleep.”
“I don’t.”
“Your eyes were closed.”
He chuckled. “Just relaxing.”
“You shouldn’t have let me fall asleep on you. What time is it?” Hazel pushed herself out of the bed and ran her fingers through her hair to untangle the strands.
Crowley’s eyes cut over to the clock. “Ten in the morning.”
She remembered talking with him until at least three o’clock in the morning. He’d asked more about her brother, Hank. And he’d refused to tell her much about his life as a human. She found it strange that he was more open about his life as a demon. Falling asleep hadn’t been planned, but it had been a long day and she felt so comfortable next to him. So safe. Which was another strange thing. Safe with a demon.
“Sorry I... trapped you last night.”
“You freed me last night. Staying here was my choice,” he said, sitting up and swinging his legs out of the bed to rest the soles of his shoes on the floor. He looked unflappable while she felt completely out of sorts--still hazy from sleep and feeling such fondness for him. It was becoming harder to remind herself that he was a demon. And those days that he walked into the casino and flirted with her seemed so long ago.
“You don’t eat, right?”
“I don’t need to,” he replied, standing up and rolling his neck from side to side.
“Oh. I’m... I’m going to take a shower and change.” She needed to get away from him for a minute. She was falling for him and she needed to stop because whatever this was would go absolutely nowhere.
She grabbed her duffle of clothes and practically ran out of the bedroom. The bathroom door locked, but she consciously chose not to turn the latch. If he walked in and joined her then... Then she’d let him. She’d welcome it. She’d be that girl for once in her life. She spent the entire time in the shower holding her breath and listening for the low creak of the door opening. It never happened.
Hazel took her time drying herself and dressing in a pair of black leggings and an oversized white T-shirt. She brushed her wet hair and rubbed lotion onto her face before looking at herself in the mirror, wondering what he saw. Maybe nothing. Maybe just a regular girl that he’d manipulated into letting him out of his cage. Except there was really nothing to keep him from walking out of the door, even with the handcuffs on. And he’d stayed. Not just stayed, but let her sleep on him like he’d enjoyed the physical closeness.
She opened the door and walked back into the bedroom, but he was gone. She felt a heaviness in her heart. What if he’d left? What if he was just waiting for daylight to get the hell out of the bunker and away from her? She blinked away the pathetic tears that had started to form in her eyes. She really needed to get over those abandonment issues that she’d been saddled with. So, he left. So what? It wasn’t like she had any claim on him. It wasn’t like she had any right to expect more from a demon.
Hazel had convinced herself he was long gone and was coming up with excuses to tell Dean and Sam when she walked into the main room of the bunker and found Crowley sitting at the table, perusing the binder that had instructions for the bunker. “You’re here,” popped out of her mouth before she had a chance to think.
Crowley looked up and raised his brows. “I am. Is that surprising to you, darling?”
“Yes. I thought you’d leave.” She walked over and sat down across from him.
“I gave you my word I would not.”
She shrugged. “People break promises all the time.”
“I don’t.”
She smiled at him. “I think it’s strange that the only person I know who doesn’t break his promises is a demon.”
“Reneging on deals is bad for business,” he said, looking back down at the binder and flipping to the next page.
“Business,” she said, feeling disappointment licking at her heart. “I let you out and you didn’t kill me in return.”
His gaze lifted up to her. His eyes were dark, but not unkind. “Deals are what I do. What I’ve done for years. Perhaps you’d like to renegotiate your deal? I admit, you did get the short end of the stick. I wouldn’t have killed you anyway.”
Hazel watched him for a long moment. Making any deals with him seemed dangerous. He was too clever and too experienced for her to ever win. “I don’t want to make any deals with you. If it takes a deal to get you to do or not do something, then it’s a lie.”
“A lie?”
“Something you never wanted to do in the first place. If you’re going to do something for me, then I’d rather you do it because you want to, not because you have to or you get something else out of it. That’s... shitty.”
“No quid pro quo for you, then?”
“If you’re going to give something, then give it without strings.”
He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at her. “I don’t know how. Why would you turn down the ability to get something you want?”
“Anything I want is worthless if it isn’t given freely.” This was too much. She was saying too much to him. Hazel stood up from the chair and walked toward the kitchen. “I’m making an omelet for myself. I know you don’t have to eat, but do you want to eat?”
“Yes, love,” he said to her back just as she turned the corner.
******************************************
Their plates were still on the table, empty and waiting to be carried back to the kitchen. Crowley had eaten his omelet with what appeared to be pleasure, not leaving a speck on the plate. They had spent the rest of the morning and into the afternoon reading and talking. Mostly talking. He was still cagey and wouldn’t talk much about himself, though he appeared to be interested in her. Probably to get gather dirt for future use, she thought.
She’d been vacillating back and forth between thinking that he was just using her to believing that he might actually want her. And not just her body. The innuendoes and sexual comments had been thrown into his conversation today, but she never felt pressured or uncomfortable because of them. They were just there, part of him and his personality. Part of his armor, it seemed.
She got up to return the book she’d been looking at instead of reading. He commanded her attention without even trying. And all she could think about was the way he had felt the previous night next to her in bed. After putting way the book, she turned around and walked over to Crowley. The plates were just to his right. Her intention had been to gather them and take them to the kitchen. Instead she found herself looking down into Crowley’s face. He’d turn around when she stepped up next to him.
“What?” she asked, self-consciously chewing her lower lip.
He reached a hand up and captured the tips of her fingers. The chain that connected the cuffs rattled. Like a moth drawn to a flame, she stepped between his knees. “You can’t read all day,” he told her.
“Sure, I can,” she replied. “Besides, we were talking more than reading.”
“Why don’t you talk to me from here?” he asked, lifting his other hand and placing it on her hip. She rested her free hand on his shoulder.
“From where?” she asked.
“From here,” he repeated. A firmer grip on her hand and hip allowed him to pull her down to his lap.
Hazel gasped and wiggled to stand up. “Crowley,” she warned him.
He immediately let go of her, instead moving his hands to cup the sides of her face. “I just want to touch you, love,” he whispered.
She stopped moving, perched sideways on his lap. Her fingers curled over his shoulder as he gently dragged his fingertips down her cheeks and traced her jawline to the point of her chin. “Why?” she asked.
“Because.”
Hazel looked into his dark eyes and felt herself falling. “That’s not a reason.”
“Because I want to,” he amended.
She reached up with her other hand and grazed her fingertips over the scruff of his beard. He leaned into her touch before turning his head and letting his lips brush against her fingers. They were soft and she remembered the way it felt when he’d kissed her. Both times. The kiss in the parking lot had been passionate and deliciously lingering. The kiss in the dungeon had been no less passionate, but it had been laced with his frustration. It had been harder and more demanding. She wondered what it would be like it she kissed him now. Would it be softer, yielding, welcoming? His eyes promised all that and more.
Something had changed in him. She wasn’t sure if it was his gratefulness for her breaking the Devil’s Trap or something else entirely. Maybe a little bit of both. She let her hands caress his ears before sliding her fingers through his short hair. He closed his eyes and let his head fall forward.
“Does that feel good?” she whispered.
“It feels wonderful,” he replied. His voice was barely audible, but in the silence of the bunker she heard every word.
Hazel gently scratched his scalp with her fingernails, starting at the back of his head and moving up to his forehead. He leaned his head back until he was looking up at her again. He looked like he’d been drugged and she’d barely touched him. She thought back to his history--his abusive mother and his difficult relationships that followed. Then his time in hell and the torture he endured and doled out. This type of contact was probably unfamiliar, though he looked as if he enjoyed it.
The chain on his cuffs clinked as he moved his hands to her shoulders and then running them down her arms. His gaze never left hers while he took her hands from his head and held them in front of his face so he could press a kiss to the palm of each. It was such a reverent, delicate thing to do that it stopped her breath for a moment.
He was looking up at her like she was the beginning and end of his world when he let go of her hands. She placed one flat on his chest and let the other rest on his shoulder. "You're very good at this," she murmured.
"Seducing you?" he asked with that cheeky grin.
"Yes. And touching me. For someone who says he's a big bad demon you sure are..."
"Sexy? Yes, I know," he said when he interrupted her.
Hazel laughed, pressing her face into his shoulder and neck. "Whatever you need to tell yourself to get through the day."
"Oh, the things I'd do to you if these shackles were gone." His voice was gruff and darkly sexy.
"Nice things?" she whispered into the scruffy beard on his neck.
"Well, I wouldn't take you for a stroll in the park, so I suppose it depends on your definition of nice."
He lifted his hands, pulling the chain up between them and then back down behind her. She was trapped between his body and the shackles, but it felt cozy instead of claustrophobic. She pressed her nose into his neck and breathed him in as he ran his fingers through her hair.
"Have you discovered the key yet?" he asked.
"What key?" Her head was fuzzy, slow-moving in this pleasurable state. This intimacy with him felt perfect. "The key you gave me?"
"It's on the back of your neck just below your hairline. I put it there when I kissed you that night in the parking lot."
Hazel pulled back. "What?"
He looked almost nervous as he caressed the spot he’d just spoken of. "Don't be cross with me, darling. Perhaps I shouldn't have used you. But I'm glad I did or you wouldn't be here in my lap. And I'm nothing if not a selfish creature."
She reached back and pushed his hand out of the way. She could only feel her smooth skin there. "I don't feel anything."
"It can't be felt."
"Take it back," she demanded.
"It would be too dangerous for me, love."
"And it's not for me?"
She felt the weight of the chain on her upper back as he took her face in both his hands. "Yes, it is. That's why I'm a bastard. I've been trying to make you understand that you should hate me."
"And yet you do eventing you can to make me want you."
He tilted his head back and brushed his lips over hers. “I can’t resist you,” Crowley whispered.
She sighed and kissed him, capturing his mouth with hers. He returned the kiss, urging her with tentative presses of his tongue to part her lips and allow him entrance. She obliged and felt herself fall into the heaven that was kissing him, slowly, leisurely, lovingly.
The door above them clicked and opened with the crunch of rusty hinges. She jerked back and turned her wide eyes up to the door, then back to Crowley. He sighed and lifted his arms up to free her from his grasp. Wasting no time, she jumped out of his lap so whoever was entering wouldn’t get the wrong--or right--idea about what was happening between her and the demon behind her.
Dean stepped in, plastic grocery bags hanging from his arm. Sam followed closely behind, shutting the door and throwing the latch. When they turned around and looked down to the main floor from the landing above, Hazel held out her arms, trying to block the view of Crowley even though it wasn’t possible.
“Don’t freak out. I can explain,” she told them.
They both dropped what they were holding and rushed down the stairs. “What the hell?” Dean yelled.
Hazel tried to shield Crowley with her body as they came toward her. “I let him out. It was my idea. He hasn’t hurt anyone.”
“He’s a piece of shit and he HAS hurt people,” Dean said, pulling up short when he got to Hazel and she didn’t move.
“Hazel, move,” Sam told her, holding his hands up.
“Guys, he’s not hurting anyone right now.”
“Only because he’s got a leash on,” Dean said. “He just tricked you into letting him out.”
Sam gingerly placed his hand on her shoulder. “He’s dangerous, Hazel. And he’s manipulative.”
“I let him out because I wanted to. He didn’t ask me. Keeping him chain up in there... That makes you just as bad as any of them.”
“He’s killed innocent people,” Sam replied.
Hazel nodded. “I get that. But...”
“No, you don’t get that if you’re giving us a but,” Dean snapped. He took both her shoulders in his and forcibly moved her to the side.
Crowley stood as soon as Dean touched her and for a moment Hazel feared that the two of them would come to blows.
“No trust in me, Squirrel?” Crowley asked, his voice deceptively level and nonchalant.
“Dean, he’s safe. He can’t hurt anyone with the cuffs on. Why do you have to leave him trapped in the dark in there?” Hazel asked.
Sam wrapped an arm around her shoulders and turned her away, trying to walk her toward the kitchen. She struggled against him when she heard a scuffle. Dean had grabbed a fist-full of Crowley’s suit jacket and pushed him toward the hallway that led to the dungeon.
Crowley looked over his shoulder and locked gazes with her. “Leave it,” he told her before turning back to the hallway and letting Dean push him forward.
“Sam, he’s different. I don’t know what he was before, but I don’t think he’s that anymore. I think your blood changed him.”
Sam let go of her, surprise written on his face. “He told you about that?”
“Yes, he seems so sad. I just... I... we just talked. He never tried to leave.”
“He’s dangerous.”
“I know. You keep telling me this. But you’re dangerous, too, right?”