“How was the hunt, darling?”
Dean supposed there were worse things to come back to the bunker to than Crowley and Castiel sharing popcorn and watching a flick together, and it wasn’t like Sam hadn’t heard Crowley call him darling a hundred times before, but his little brother’s smirk before he quickly skedaddled had Dean scrubbing a hand tiredly over his face, not to mention biting his tongue despite his need to demand Sam that he come back and not leave him with… whatever this was.
“Fine,” the disgruntled Winchester bit out.
He ignored Cas’ softly questioning look and his even softer, “Would you like some popcorn, Dean?”
“No thanks, Cas,” he settled on. While popcorn sounded and smelled like buttery goodness from where he was standing, he was hellbent on making a quick ham sandwich and then passing out in his memory foam bed for at least a week. The hunt had been more trouble than it was worth; ask Sam and he’d say the same thing about all their hunts lately. It did, however, make coming back to the bunker all the sweeter. He’d never admit it as more than a passing comment, but he was damn glad to have Cas to come back home to. He was what really made the bunker feel like a home, even more so because the angel had been staying with the two Winchesters for about two months, the longest amount of time since they’d acquired their bat cave.
At least that aspect of their lives was starting to look up.
Then there was Crowley, whom Cas had brought home with both pleas and reassurances to the brothers a little over two weeks ago. Dean had seriously considered inquiring as to the angel’s sudden attachment to this particular demon, but Sam had told him more than once to leave him be, and without a serious look on his face either. So Dean let it be, even though it was obvious Sam was hiding something and clearly grew more amused by the day when Dean didn’t get it.
As far as Dean was concerned, there was nothing to get. From personal experience, it was better to have Crowley on your side than working behind your back, even better to keep an eye on him since he was probably balancing both. Dean hadn’t been around the bunker much lately, long-ass hunts keeping him and Sam on their too frequently stepped on toes, but he had come that one time Dean called. Or at least Cas had threatened to kick his demonic ass if he didn’t.
And Crowley greeted him every time he walked in the door, which was sorta nice if Dean was in the mood for it.
Dean forcefully shut that part of his brain down and wandered into the kitchen, jumping when a certain angel came out of nowhere and held a plate directly under his nose. It looked like a ham sandwich, smelled even better. “Sam texted me that you two would be coming home early, so I went ahead and made a sandwich for you.”
And it tasted almost as good as a bacon cheeseburger when he took a bite, moaning loudly in appreciation. “Gonna start keeping you in the kitchen full-time, Cas. For someone who doesn’t eat, you make a mean ham sandwich.”
Old Cas might have poked at the bread to make sure it wasn’t deadly, then proceeded to convince Dean there was nothing vindictive about the ham either, but new Cas just smiled in gratitude. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it, Dean.” A beat as the angel awkwardly stood in place and Dean proceeded to drool over his sandwich. He was half-amused and half-worried as Cas opened and closed his mouth several times, before settling on: “Crowley and I are watching some horror film, which neither of us seem to be enjoying, but would you care to join us?”
“Nah.” He felt bad about turning Cas down, but he was really was beat. “I think I’m gonna hit the hay early. Maybe tomorrow though.”
The angel nodded in disappointment that really tried to be understanding but definitely wasn’t, and proceeded to leave Dean with his last bite of glorious sandwich. Dean peeked in on the two before he headed to his room, not able to help his relieved grin as Castiel made some completely ridiculous comment and Crowley threw popcorn at him in protest. The movie did look horrific, but Crowley’s outraged and full-bodied laugh followed him down the hallway, dousing him in a certain familiarity and warmth that he’d never willingly kick out.
Then again, personal space remained an issue.
Crowley was stretched out in Dean’s bed when he returned from his shower, his trademark black coat shucked off and thrown over a chair. Sure, make yourself comfortable in my bed, why don’t you? It wasn’t unlike the demon to completely forgo personal space and common decency in the name of his own comfort and constructing uncomfortable sexual-esque situations, but Dean really wasn’t in the mood tonight, despite how plush Crowley appeared.
Except… it occurred to him that he kinda didn’t want to be alone either.
“Thought you were bonding with Cas?” He fidgeted with the tie on his robe, tied it tighter with a glare when he caught Crowley staring at him… hungrily? It was like Crowley to play with him whenever it suited him, though Dean figured he was forced to put up with it unless he physically kicked the demon out. What I need, other than a hole in my head for agreeing to let Crowley stay, is to distract myself. “ You know, you really shouldn’t watch too many scary movies with him, guy can still get freaked out.”
Crowley sighed heavily, sitting up and leaning against Dean’s pillows. “I’d have to say it was the worst zombie flick I’ve ever seen. And Cas keeps questioning the intentions of those bloody zombies, makes for a rather dull viewing experience if you ask me.” Crowley, complaining about the company, what else was new? “I’d much rather spend my time hearing about your day.” That look again: eight parts hungry and two parts devious.
Oh shit, Dean didn’t even think he could get goosebumps anymore.
“I know you’ve been wondering about how I fit in, Squirrel. And I have to say how tickled I am that you’ve decided to let me stay.”
Dean swallowed. “For now.”
“For now,” Crowley agreed with a devilish grin, patting the space beside him on Dean’s bed. He might as well just give the demon the room for all the good ‘Dean’s property’ was doing him.
Still, he didn’t even ask, let alone demand, that Crowley get the hell out. For one, he probably wouldn’t, or at least would make a big show of how his feelings had been mangled by Dean Winchester himself. Which his two sizes too big heart just couldn’t take another round of. Also, it was kinda nice having someone who asked after him in addition to Cas, even if Dean didn’t even consider for a second to amuse Crowley.
So the hunter took the space Crowley offered, plenty far enough away from him, which of course didn’t leave him much room to work with. On his part, Dean’s longtime enemy and sometime ally didn’t shift closer, not even discreetly, but he did grasp Dean’s shoulder and squeeze. Crowley’s coat usually slimmed him down considerably, but without it and despite still being clothed entirely in black he looked so incredibly soft and warm, so much so that Dean couldn’t stop himself from thinking about eradicating the few inches that separated them, wanting to test out his theory. “Stiff back, pet?” Crowley teased, yanking Dean out of his reverie.
“Which is why I need my memory foam,” Dean growled.
Crowley did one better than that: he scooted further away from Dean instead of vacating the bed, offering him the hellishly warm spot he had just been stretched out in, which one-hundred percent convinced the drained hunter not to move an inch once his overtaxed body started soaking up that warmth. When Dean’s eyes were closed and his consciousness slowly fading, despite his efforts to stay awake until he could determine what the hell Crowley’s intentions were, the demon’s hands found their way to Dean’s shoulder blades, digging into the tense skin before he could turn onto his back.
Dean moaned before he could stop himself, his body sinking deeper and deeper into the mattress even though he knew better than to trust Crowley. Another body joined the bed after long moments of almost bliss, causing him to jerk before he realized that it was only Cas, who kissed his forehead gently while Crowley laid up on the massage in favor of running a hand up and down Dean’s side, as if trying to coax him to relax further and fall asleep.
An angel and a demon in his room, like it was a perfectly normal day.
Dean might have kicked them out at any other moment, but he was tired and sore and both looked completely in their element, not fighting over Dean but working together in tandem. It was nice enough and he could blame it on being out of it enough that when Crowley leaned down to kiss him, tongue snaking in between his lips so effortlessly Dean wondered just how long he’d been thinking about this, he didn’t push him back. He grasped Crowley’s bearded cheek instead, roughly pulling him closer, and he didn’t protest when Crowley yanked Cas down on top of them to join in. It felt so right and oddly like such a long-time coming that it was all Dean could think about.
And when the morning reared its usual ugly head, both angel and demon tucked in against him, one on each side, it felt even better.