Why Don't You and I? (schmoop bingo 14/27)
I'm hopelessly behind on comment replies.
I'll try to work on that over the next few days.
Title: Why Don't You and I?
Author: secondplatypus
Pairing: Bobby/Crowley
Rating: PG for brief kissing
Warnings: Schmoop and schmangst
Word Count: 865
Disclaimer: Not mine. Didn't happen.
Summary: Crowley stops by to wish Bobby a happy birthday, and they have a Moment. Bobby has a little freak-out, Crowley makes it better, and the hunter surprises himself.
Author's Notes: I had a little burst of productivity last night, and lo and behold, another chapter! As of today, the word count of this 'verse's posted chapters has officially topped 15k (15,803 to be exact - if you count chapter 15, which is complete and awaiting posting, I'm at 16,685).
This one's for the "first holiday together" square, it's set a couple months after Chapter 13: Livin la Vida Loca
The show never mentions when Bobby's birthday is so I decided to place it at the end of April. His age isn't specifically referenced, either, so I guessed late forties and went with it.
As an aside, all this schmoop has definitely started to give me cavities. I need to whip up some phenomenally filthy (and completely unrelated) porn before I have an identity crisis.
Bobby's 49th birthday fell on a beautiful day in late April. The incessant rain they'd been suffering through for the last week and a half had given way to warmth and sunshine; the timing was so perfect, Bobby couldn't help but wonder if a little divine intervention might have played a part.
Sam and Dean had gone to town for some "last-minute preparations" that more than likely involved the rubber dog poop and whoopee cushions that had become a birthday tradition (not to mention a metric ton of booze and junk food); Bobby was enjoying a quiet minute to himself in the living room when he was surprised by the appearance of Crowley in the doorway.
The demon had become a regular presence in Bobby's life after their impromptu vacation in Vanuatu. There was never any warning, nor rhyme and reason to the timing of his visits, but no matter the mood Bobby was in when Crowley showed up out of nowhere, he always found himself welcoming Crowley's company.
Bobby stood to greet Crowley, who tossed his coat on a chair, revealing a beautifully wrapped package nestled in the crook of his arm.
"I hope you don't mind my dropping in - I wanted to stop by and wish you a happy birthday. I would have brought you a cake, but with that many candles, I'm afraid we'd be in danger of burning your house to the ground."
Crowley grinned in response to the glare Bobby shot him and walked across the room, depositing the gift in Bobby's hands.
"Go on, open it."
Bobby muttered something about snarky bastards before turning his attention to the present, untying silky ribbon and ripping through elaborately patterned paper. He was expecting a bottle of the outrageously expensive scotch Crowley kept trying to get him hooked on, but instead, he found a handle of Jack Daniels.
Blinking in surprise, Bobby looked up at the demon.
"Since it's your birthday, I figured I'd indulge you in that swill you're so fond of drinking."
He produced a pair of tumblers.
"I'm even willing to relax my standards and share some of it with you in honor of the occasion."
After pouring them each a sizeable amount and making a slight face at the smell, Crowley raised his glass.
"To you, Bobby."
They drank with twin tilts of wrists and arches of neck, Crowley letting out a bit of a cough as the liquor burned a harsh trail down his throat.
In the span of a moment their eyes locked, flickering over each other's faces; it seemed to Bobby as though the air had somehow become heavier, crackling with an almost electric sense of anticipation.
The distance between them closed quickly; as Crowley drew closer, Bobby couldn't help but notice the shine of whiskey on Crowley's lips, the heat of breath on his face, and the fluttery pounding of his heart.
At the last second before their mouths met, Bobby turned his head, stepped back, and put down his glass.
"Look, I really appreciate the present and the company, but I don't know if you comin' around here all the time is the best idea."
Crowley nodded, the playful set of his features hardening into a facade as smooth and elegantly frigid as polished granite. He crossed the room with quick, efficient steps and retrieved his coat.
"Sorry, I'll be off."
Bobby exhaled, heavy and sharp, the sound a hybrid of vexed huff and concerned sigh.
"I didn't tell you to go away."
Dark eyes glanced his way, then settled on the wall.
"If you don't want this, then what's the point?"
"I do, Crowley, it's just..."
"That I'm a demon? That I did my level damndest to trick you out of your soul? That Thickhead and bloody Moose wouldn't approve."
"No, dammit. Will you let me talk?"
Bobby took Crowley's curt nod as consent and started to speak again, acutely aware of the distance that had sprung up between them and trying to find the right words to soothe it away.
"The last person I had anything like this with was my wife, and I ended up having to kill her twice. That's not the sort of thing a man gets over easily and I just don't know if I'm..."
Crowley's face softened, the tension melting away into a warmth that went straight to the hunter's core and wrapped around his heart.
"Bobby, I'm not asking for eternity or suggesting we pick out curtains. Whatever you need this to be, that's what I'll give you."
The smile that curved Bobby's lips, tentative and shy and hopeful, faded when he heard the rumble of the Impala coming down the driveway.
"I'm guessing that's my cue to leave. Mind if I come see you again?"
Bobby shook his head.
"Okay, then. Bye for now, Bobby."
Before he had time to think, the hunter was across the room, hooking an arm around Crowley's waist, pulling him close, and kissing him.
A long, lovely moment later, Crowley broke away. He brushed two fingers along Bobby's cheekbone, a brief, tender caress full of promise, then disappeared an instant before Bobby heard the front door swing open.
Chapter Fifteen - Old Time Rock & Roll
I'll try to work on that over the next few days.
Title: Why Don't You and I?
Author: secondplatypus
Pairing: Bobby/Crowley
Rating: PG for brief kissing
Warnings: Schmoop and schmangst
Word Count: 865
Disclaimer: Not mine. Didn't happen.
Summary: Crowley stops by to wish Bobby a happy birthday, and they have a Moment. Bobby has a little freak-out, Crowley makes it better, and the hunter surprises himself.
Author's Notes: I had a little burst of productivity last night, and lo and behold, another chapter! As of today, the word count of this 'verse's posted chapters has officially topped 15k (15,803 to be exact - if you count chapter 15, which is complete and awaiting posting, I'm at 16,685).
This one's for the "first holiday together" square, it's set a couple months after Chapter 13: Livin la Vida Loca
The show never mentions when Bobby's birthday is so I decided to place it at the end of April. His age isn't specifically referenced, either, so I guessed late forties and went with it.
As an aside, all this schmoop has definitely started to give me cavities. I need to whip up some phenomenally filthy (and completely unrelated) porn before I have an identity crisis.
Bobby's 49th birthday fell on a beautiful day in late April. The incessant rain they'd been suffering through for the last week and a half had given way to warmth and sunshine; the timing was so perfect, Bobby couldn't help but wonder if a little divine intervention might have played a part.
Sam and Dean had gone to town for some "last-minute preparations" that more than likely involved the rubber dog poop and whoopee cushions that had become a birthday tradition (not to mention a metric ton of booze and junk food); Bobby was enjoying a quiet minute to himself in the living room when he was surprised by the appearance of Crowley in the doorway.
The demon had become a regular presence in Bobby's life after their impromptu vacation in Vanuatu. There was never any warning, nor rhyme and reason to the timing of his visits, but no matter the mood Bobby was in when Crowley showed up out of nowhere, he always found himself welcoming Crowley's company.
Bobby stood to greet Crowley, who tossed his coat on a chair, revealing a beautifully wrapped package nestled in the crook of his arm.
"I hope you don't mind my dropping in - I wanted to stop by and wish you a happy birthday. I would have brought you a cake, but with that many candles, I'm afraid we'd be in danger of burning your house to the ground."
Crowley grinned in response to the glare Bobby shot him and walked across the room, depositing the gift in Bobby's hands.
"Go on, open it."
Bobby muttered something about snarky bastards before turning his attention to the present, untying silky ribbon and ripping through elaborately patterned paper. He was expecting a bottle of the outrageously expensive scotch Crowley kept trying to get him hooked on, but instead, he found a handle of Jack Daniels.
Blinking in surprise, Bobby looked up at the demon.
"Since it's your birthday, I figured I'd indulge you in that swill you're so fond of drinking."
He produced a pair of tumblers.
"I'm even willing to relax my standards and share some of it with you in honor of the occasion."
After pouring them each a sizeable amount and making a slight face at the smell, Crowley raised his glass.
"To you, Bobby."
They drank with twin tilts of wrists and arches of neck, Crowley letting out a bit of a cough as the liquor burned a harsh trail down his throat.
In the span of a moment their eyes locked, flickering over each other's faces; it seemed to Bobby as though the air had somehow become heavier, crackling with an almost electric sense of anticipation.
The distance between them closed quickly; as Crowley drew closer, Bobby couldn't help but notice the shine of whiskey on Crowley's lips, the heat of breath on his face, and the fluttery pounding of his heart.
At the last second before their mouths met, Bobby turned his head, stepped back, and put down his glass.
"Look, I really appreciate the present and the company, but I don't know if you comin' around here all the time is the best idea."
Crowley nodded, the playful set of his features hardening into a facade as smooth and elegantly frigid as polished granite. He crossed the room with quick, efficient steps and retrieved his coat.
"Sorry, I'll be off."
Bobby exhaled, heavy and sharp, the sound a hybrid of vexed huff and concerned sigh.
"I didn't tell you to go away."
Dark eyes glanced his way, then settled on the wall.
"If you don't want this, then what's the point?"
"I do, Crowley, it's just..."
"That I'm a demon? That I did my level damndest to trick you out of your soul? That Thickhead and bloody Moose wouldn't approve."
"No, dammit. Will you let me talk?"
Bobby took Crowley's curt nod as consent and started to speak again, acutely aware of the distance that had sprung up between them and trying to find the right words to soothe it away.
"The last person I had anything like this with was my wife, and I ended up having to kill her twice. That's not the sort of thing a man gets over easily and I just don't know if I'm..."
Crowley's face softened, the tension melting away into a warmth that went straight to the hunter's core and wrapped around his heart.
"Bobby, I'm not asking for eternity or suggesting we pick out curtains. Whatever you need this to be, that's what I'll give you."
The smile that curved Bobby's lips, tentative and shy and hopeful, faded when he heard the rumble of the Impala coming down the driveway.
"I'm guessing that's my cue to leave. Mind if I come see you again?"
Bobby shook his head.
"Okay, then. Bye for now, Bobby."
Before he had time to think, the hunter was across the room, hooking an arm around Crowley's waist, pulling him close, and kissing him.
A long, lovely moment later, Crowley broke away. He brushed two fingers along Bobby's cheekbone, a brief, tender caress full of promise, then disappeared an instant before Bobby heard the front door swing open.
Chapter Fifteen - Old Time Rock & Roll