[ Sleeping was a luxury and, as such, he was inclined to indulge in it occasionally, especially when combined with the times that he actually got drunk. It took a good bit to pull it off, though he's willing to bet that alcohol wasn't the only part of last night's equation. It'll catch up to him soon enough.
For now, there's silk sheets and warm bodies. Crowley shifts himself over one of them and uses it as a perch and a vantage point to assess the room. Hotel room, pale gold walls, white decor and sanguine furniture, spacious aside from the half-naked women strewn across the dividers and the couches... It was actually rather nice. He must have picked it.
The demon glanced down as whatever poor sod beneath him shifted. He had half a mind to push them off the edge of the bed, really, but his right hand laced itself into dark hair instead and pulled. This one was a man, at least - Crowley'd been sort of wondering where his interest in all of this had been. ]
[And whine he does. Alright, more like a grunt really, and he sluggishly shoves at the hand that's wound into his hair. He'd been more or less awakened when whoever had been next to him had taken it upon himself to roll over on top of him, which under normal circumstances isn't too terrible a wakeup call... But he'd recognize that voice and unnecessary viciousness anywhere and so he just groans, blearily forcing his eyes open to peer around the room.
Funny, this doesn't look like his cabin. Sure, there are half-naked women folded over couches and curled up wherever there's space on the floor- that, he's used to. It's expected, really; it's rare when he wakes up with a hangover of this magnitude for there not to be half-naked women strewn all across the room. But there's also the fact that these aren't his sheets, the lingering scent of incense is nowhere to be found, and, of course, he's currently pinned to a much nicer bed than his own with Crowley's hand twisted rather painfully in his hair. It's all a bit disorienting
( ... )
[ Castiel? Oh fucking hell. Well. Not the worst angel he could wake up next to, he supposes, especially considering this one's Grace is about as potent as a Starbucks latte. ]
No, this is not your dilapidated shanty-town.
[ He agrees, letting his grip go slack so the other's head can drop right back into the pillow. He doesn't roll off yet, though. It's not every day a demon gets to nest on top of an angel. ]
But let's not kid ourselves - I'm gorgeous. Best you've ever done.
Oi! Wake up, you filthy slag.
[ There's a soft, startled yelp nearby as Crowley reaches out and gives a light smack to the face of the woman nestled in the sheets next to Castiel. ]
Where are we? Is this The Venetian?
[ Seeing the bland recognition in her face and the nod that follows, he smirks. ]
[He frowns. He's perfectly content with his shanty-town, thank you very much.
As for 'best he's ever done'? Please.]
You're not the worst.
[He's willing to give him at least that much. He starts to say something else, but he's interrupted by Crowley reaching across his face to slap the woman laying next to him. He's just barely too slow to stop him, but he does shove the demon's hand away and flash the girl an apologetic look. Talk about awkward. He glances at her, then the door, his meaning clear: it's time to go. If she's smart, she'll get the hint.]
...Vegas?
[It's out of his mouth before he even gets a chance to process it. How the-- he's not even going to think about it. He scrubs his hand over his face, alcohol-induced headache compounded by the fact that he's in fucking Vegas without the slightest clue how he got here. Something cool and hard brushes against his nose and he bristles. What...? Pulling his hand back, he locates the source of the chill: That's definitely a ring
( ... )
Sooo soo sorry on the lateness here [1/2]pocketfulosoulsJanuary 1 2012, 11:53:35 UTC
[ A scoff. Now he's not sure whether or not he's being insulted, which is actually not half bad. He knew Castiel had it in him to be clever.
He lets his hand be shoved away, an easy sort of self-satisfied smirk dwindling as the angel tries to make nice with the bare-naked lady. Of course, he's not sorry. He doesn't bother watching her get up and gather her things, because watching the angel is much more interesting... at least until he notices the ring. Crowley nearly slaps him as his hand is seized, but no, no, there it is. ]
Well, I was thinking about it, but I think the mood's killed itself.
[ And now Castiel will get to see a very rare sight - pure, abject terror sinking into the demon's dark eyes and features. Because this is not just a ring; this is a contract. There's an deal tied to this and Crowley has agreed to it and, bloody buggering fuck, he doesn't know what it isHopefully the angel is too hungover to notice it, or too close to human to be able to
( ... )
[ When the last girl is out, the room is beginning to smell of smoke, but the demon looks like he's in a much more stable mood. The flames, curling the iron of the divider by now, put themselves out like a birthday candle. ]
No worries man c: heavenonhighJanuary 2 2012, 04:32:18 UTC
[Cas is about to flash Crowley a mock pout and a quip about the loss of a second (possibly third or fourth, actually, if the way his body aches is any indication) round, but either he's imagining it or the air surrounding the demon raises a few degrees as he stares intently at the ring. He's hungover, and he's just woken up naked next to Crowley of all people, so maybe he's just making shit up, but he'd swear he's catching fear in the man's face before it gives way to anger. Cas starts to move as Crowley shifts off of him, but then there's a hand being pressed down on his chest with a surprising amount of strength and so he stays right where he is as Crowley proceeds to set half of the room on fire.He knows better than to question it; as much as he enjoys pushing Crowley's buttons when the opportunity presents itself he enjoys breathing just enough that he keeps his mouth shut. Shifting as much as he can under Crowley's hand, he watches the women scatter, shoving at each other to get away from the flames. He half wishes he could
( ... )
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For now, there's silk sheets and warm bodies. Crowley shifts himself over one of them and uses it as a perch and a vantage point to assess the room. Hotel room, pale gold walls, white decor and sanguine furniture, spacious aside from the half-naked women strewn across the dividers and the couches... It was actually rather nice. He must have picked it.
The demon glanced down as whatever poor sod beneath him shifted. He had half a mind to push them off the edge of the bed, really, but his right hand laced itself into dark hair instead and pulled. This one was a man, at least - Crowley'd been sort of wondering where his interest in all of this had been. ]
Rise and whine, love.
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Funny, this doesn't look like his cabin. Sure, there are half-naked women folded over couches and curled up wherever there's space on the floor- that, he's used to. It's expected, really; it's rare when he wakes up with a hangover of this magnitude for there not to be half-naked women strewn all across the room. But there's also the fact that these aren't his sheets, the lingering scent of incense is nowhere to be found, and, of course, he's currently pinned to a much nicer bed than his own with Crowley's hand twisted rather painfully in his hair. It's all a bit disorienting ( ... )
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No, this is not your dilapidated shanty-town.
[ He agrees, letting his grip go slack so the other's head can drop right back into the pillow. He doesn't roll off yet, though. It's not every day a demon gets to nest on top of an angel. ]
But let's not kid ourselves - I'm gorgeous. Best you've ever done.
Oi! Wake up, you filthy slag.
[ There's a soft, startled yelp nearby as Crowley reaches out and gives a light smack to the face of the woman nestled in the sheets next to Castiel. ]
Where are we? Is this The Venetian?
[ Seeing the bland recognition in her face and the nod that follows, he smirks. ]
Old Sin City. Vegas.
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As for 'best he's ever done'? Please.]
You're not the worst.
[He's willing to give him at least that much. He starts to say something else, but he's interrupted by Crowley reaching across his face to slap the woman laying next to him. He's just barely too slow to stop him, but he does shove the demon's hand away and flash the girl an apologetic look. Talk about awkward. He glances at her, then the door, his meaning clear: it's time to go. If she's smart, she'll get the hint.]
...Vegas?
[It's out of his mouth before he even gets a chance to process it. How the-- he's not even going to think about it. He scrubs his hand over his face, alcohol-induced headache compounded by the fact that he's in fucking Vegas without the slightest clue how he got here. Something cool and hard brushes against his nose and he bristles. What...? Pulling his hand back, he locates the source of the chill: That's definitely a ring ( ... )
Reply
He lets his hand be shoved away, an easy sort of self-satisfied smirk dwindling as the angel tries to make nice with the bare-naked lady. Of course, he's not sorry. He doesn't bother watching her get up and gather her things, because watching the angel is much more interesting... at least until he notices the ring. Crowley nearly slaps him as his hand is seized, but no, no, there it is. ]
Well, I was thinking about it, but I think the mood's killed itself.
[ And now Castiel will get to see a very rare sight - pure, abject terror sinking into the demon's dark eyes and features. Because this is not just a ring; this is a contract. There's an deal tied to this and Crowley has agreed to it and, bloody buggering fuck, he doesn't know what it isHopefully the angel is too hungover to notice it, or too close to human to be able to ( ... )
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This is your fault.
[ He informs the other. ]
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