#all i want for christmas is drowley

[hekate1308]

All I Want for Christmas is Drowley - Day 1 (Prompt: Snow!)

Hello there! So my Day 1 submission for you got a little…long. Sorry? Takes place in some amorphous winter time point in S12. All ref’s to roadside attractions are legit places, honest to Chuck.

Roadside Attractions

It’s half-past who the hell knows o’clock. The sun’s up and he’s yet to get any sleep, that’s all that really matters about the time at the moment, far as Dean’s concerned.

It’s also damn cold. Dean can see his breath as it wafts out in front of his face; a threat of ice and snow building up around him. All things being equal, he’d rather be sitting down to a heaping helping of pancakes smothered in glorious maple syrup, or tucked away in a warm bed, then hanging out in an auto-yard looking at…

“What the hell are we looking at here?”

Crowley shrugs, the movement shifting the demon’s body just a hair closer to Dean. Neither of them move to accommodate the change. “Not sure. It’s…certainly an interesting form of artistic expression.”

“Art?” Dean cocks an eyebrow as he spares a glance to the man next to him. “It’s a giant gorilla holding a Volkswagen in the air by one hand.”

“Like I said, an interesting choice. Not my preferred style, but not everyone is as discerning as yours truly. It does have a certain panache, don’t you think?”

Dean tries and fails to bite back a laugh. “Not the word I would use.” Dean looks at the, whatever it is, tilting his head to the side to see if that helps it make more sense.

It doesn’t.

“Why’s it holding a hand out like that?”

“That’s for photo-ops, Squirrel. Shall we snap a selfie, for old time’s sake?”

Dean snorts. An image flashing to the front of his mind from that summer, when the two of them had ended up at some weird-ass ketchup festival and antique car show in Illinois. There may or may not be photographic evidence saved within the depths of Dean’s phone (and Crowley’s Flickr album), of him and the King of Hell looking absolutely ridiculous standing in front of the world’s largest bottle of ketchup. The memory sends a bolt through Dean that’s not quite nostalgia, but isn’t all that far off either. “Nah. I’m good.”

“Your loss, darling.”

Dean shifts his weight a little, pressing back against the hood of the Impala until he can feel the cold of the metal seeping through his jacket. Crowley does the same a few scant inches away. This close to Dean, the demon’s body heat is a tangible thing, and with his own body temperature dropping what feels like several degrees every second he stays outside, Dean finds he has to curb the urge to lean closer so that he can suck up some of that warmth for himself.

He should probably be worried that his initial reaction is to move closer to the demon, but really, considering their history, he hardly thinks it matters. 

Exhaustion seeping in at the edges, Dean yawns, a big open-mouthed breath. The action spurs on a full body shiver as he sucks in the frigid winter morning air. Which is when a smattering of fat snowflakes hits the ground in front of them.

Snow. Great. That’s, that’s just great.

“Cold, Squirrel?”

In time with the snarky question, a round droplet of snow lands on Crowley’s forehead, melting instantly at the contact so that a droplet of water rolls down into the other man’s eyes. He blinks his eyelids rapidly to brush it away. The action, comical as it is, is also - if Dean was willing to admit to such things, which he is not - a little endearing. Dean doesn’t bother trying to bite back his laugh this time.

“Gotta little snow in your eye there, Boris?” The demon glares at him, grumbling out a nonverbal response and tucking his hands deeper into his coat pockets. Dean mirrors the action, pulling his jacket in closer to hold in what little warmth remains. As the snow begins to fall faster, he gives serious consideration to just getting back into the car. “How long we gotta wait here?”

“My contact should be here soon. Never fear.”

Dean grunts in response. Trusting Crowley on that count. Crowley might not feel the cold the way that Dean does, but he doubts the demon wants to risk his suit by hanging out in this weather for much longer either.  

The fact that Dean’s willing to put any amount of faith, or trust, in the things that Crowley says and does is another thing that should worry Dean.

But it doesn’t, not really. He’s past the point of trying to pretend like everything between them is the same as it always was. Hell, there’s no use in trying to pretend like there isn’t a between them at all. Though sometimes the demon pulls shit that makes Dean wish he could.

Now’s not one of those times though. Not so far as Dean can tell at least. No, at the moment, Crowley appears for all the world to be helping them. Again.

Which is why, despite the cold and falling snow, Dean is left in this weird space where hanging out with Crowley is more comfortable than anything else. Like he can just…relax around him.

Doesn’t mean he needs to stand outside like a fool while a blizzard rolls in. “Screw this. I’m waiting in the car.”

He pushes off from the hood and makes his way to the driver’s side, pulling the door open. He pauses before climbing in when he notices that Crowley hasn’t moved an inch, scrunching his forehead in confusion in his direction. “You comin’ or what?”

There’s a brief flicker of surprise that passes over Crowley’s face before he nods his head and heads to the passenger side, climbing in right as Dean starts the engine and turns the heat up.

His muscles relax as the heat begins to blast out of the vents in counterpoint to Sabbath coming out the speakers at a low volume, Baby revving to life around them

“This contact of yours - can we summon his ass to get him here any faster?”

“Not a demon, unfortunately. He’ll be here.”

“He better. We stick around much longer, we’re gonna be stuck.”

Logically, Dean knows that Crowley could leave whenever he wanted. The demon teleported here to meet Dean. It stands to reason he’ll teleport out when their done.

Dean also knows that if he gets stuck here, Crowley isn’t going anywhere. 

“Why, Squirrel, don’t want to be snowed in with me? I’m hurt.” Crowley waggles his eyebrows. “We can huddle for warmth.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Keep dreamin’, Crowley.”

“Every night, Dean.” The inflection on the words is heavier than Dean would expect. Not the light type of teasing they sometimes do, or the hotter, dirtier kind that they once indulged in (and that Crowley still tries to employ to his advantage on occasion). There’s a serious quality to it that makes Dean’s spine straighten.

Dean meets Crowley’s gaze across the seats, trying to gauge the intent behind the words best he can. He’s not sure exactly what he sees there, but he knows it’s not what he was expecting. It makes something warm settle over him that has nothing to do with the forced air blowing at him from the dash. His tongue darts out to lick his suddenly dry lips. Focused as he is on Crowley’s expression, he can’t miss the way the demon’s eyes follow the motion. When he speaks, his voice is rougher than it has any cause to be.”Crowley…”

He’s interrupted by a well-timed (or horribly timed, depending on your perspective) series of taps on the passenger side window.

Crowley sighs, turning away from Dean to look up and out the window, rolling it down after taking the time to observe the person on the other side, barking out an angry “What?!”

The contact, an oddly familiar looking frail man with sallow skin and tightly coiled hair that’s begun to gray at the edges, doesn’t seem at all bothered by Crowley’s annoyed demeanor. Just hands him an oblong package wrapped in brown paper. “Your order, sir.”

Crowley’s countenance relaxes a fraction, though when he speaks it sounds a little strained to Dean. “Thank you, Gerald. You’ll find your payment has been delivered to the usual address.”

“Pleasure doing business, as always.” Gerald tilts his head in a half nod, dark eyes glancing over Dean before he straightens and heads towards the giant gorilla statue. To Dean’s astonishment, the man climbs into the thing’s open hand (Crowley’s self-proclaimed selfie spot), and takes a seat.

In the middle of the snowstorm.

Dean narrows his eyes in the man’s general direction. Trying - and failing - to place him. “Your contact - I met him before?”

Crowley clucks his tongue. “You have, briefly.”

Dean thinks back, surprised by the large quantity of people he’s been introduced to - unwilling or not - by Crowley. A moment of reflection later, and it comes to him. “That the same odd bastard we met up with at the giant talking penguin statue?”

“One and the same.” Crowley slides a glance at Dean, mouth curling up at the corners in the hint of a smirk that makes Dean wish he hadn’t asked. Because while the giant talking penguin statue was hard to forget as far as weird-ass “art” pieces were concerned, the memory of the motel located at the same place - or rather, what Dean and Crowley had gotten up to at said motel - is even harder to forget.

Dean swallows, hoping his cheeks aren’t heating up as much as he suspects that they are. In a poorly concealed effort to deflect, he says “Dude’s got a real thing for roadside attractions, huh?”

Crowley, to Dean’s surprise, let’s it go. “Gerald is…eccentric. Don’t worry, he’s harmless.” He slips the package - still wrapped - beneath the seat, and claps his hands together, rubbing his palms briskly back and forth for a few seconds. “What do you say we get some breakfast? I know a place just a short drive away. Serves the best waffles you’ll ever have.”

Dean furrows his brow. “You’re not gonna open it?”

Crowley shrugs. “No reason. It’ll keep until after we’ve eaten.”

Dean gaps at him. Wondering what the hell he called him out here for if all that was happening was a hand off for a package that Crowley can’t even be bothered to check.

He says as much to Crowley, anger flaring through him the whole while. Crowley just huffs out a slow whiff of air in response. “Relax, Squirrel. I asked you here as backup, in case things went sideways. They didn’t so…” He spreads his hands out, palms up. “It’ll keep.”

“What if it’s not what it’s supposed to be?”

Crowley just looks at Dean, holding his gaze for a half a beat longer than is really comfortable. His words are slow, and measured when he answers. “Then I’ll have to activate the warding spell on Gerald’s payment, won’t I?“

Dean considers this for a moment, the anger draining out of him slowly at the explanation, thin as it is.

Trusting Crowley? Not all that easy yet. (But also not as difficult as it once would have been.)

Dean’s not sure if that’s progress, or something else. He knows what Sam’s opinion on it would be. But Sam’s not here, off chasing another lead with Cas instead, so Dean’s not sure it matters what his brother would think.

“Now, breakfast?” There’s a tight smile on Crowley’s face as he makes the offer a second time, and Dean knows that he’s well aware of what Dean’s response is going to be.

It’s almost enough to make Dean want to do the opposite, just to be contrary. Almost. Instead he does the expected, shaking his head. ”Crowley-”

“Did I mention that they have bison sausage too?”

As if on queue, Dean’s stomach growls. “Bison? Like bison bison? Not cow labeled as bison?”

“MmmHmm. Come on, Squirrel. Live a little. What’s the point of coming to Vermont if you don’t stop for something smothered in artery clogging genuine maple syrup?”

Dean thinks on it for a few moments. His stomach arguing in favor, his brain arguing against. He looks away from Crowley and towards the man sitting in the giant gorilla hand catching snow on his tongue, and makes a decision.

Dean wraps his hand around the gear shift, and puts the car in reverse, easing her back slow on the slippery snow. “Fine. But you’re paying.”

“Of course, darling. What kind a date would I be if I didn’t?”

OMFG THIS IS AMAZING THANK YOU SO MUCH

[bestiesandagents]

All I Want for Christmas is Drowley: Day 3 - Spiked Eggnog

So, this is set in an AU post season 12, where Crowley somehow got brought back to life and Jack brought Mary back.

A Winchester Family Christmas

This was shaping up to be the best Christmas Dean had had in... ever. Jack had helped them get their mom back just a couple weeks ago, and now she seemed determined that all five of them (she, Sam, Dean, Castiel, and Jack, that was) have a proper, family Christmas. And without the day being tainted by some impending doom, Dean found that he was able to enjoy the holiday more than ever before.

He sipped on the eggnog that Sam had made (which seemed to be more whiskey than eggnog, not that he was complaining), and watched with a fond smile as Sam and Mary taught Jack some Christmas traditions. Castiel was pretending to help, but Dean knew that he was learning just as much as his adopted son.

For all the joy of the day, though, something just felt... off. It was like something was missing. At first, Dean wondered if it was his dad, but it wasn’t like he and Sam had ever had a proper Christmas celebration with him, and he had made his peace with his death a long time ago. So, maybe it was just all the losses that he had suffered in general - that would make sense, even if that answer still didn’t feel quite right to him.

Maybe it was the surreal feeling of a family Christmas, or maybe it was the eggnog, but suddenly, Dean found himself with his phone in hand, dialing a familiar number.

“Squirrel,” Crowley greeted him, his voice a touch more subdued than usual - Dean probably wouldn’t have noticed it if he didn’t know Crowley so well. “Don’t tell me you’re working on Christmas.”

“No, I’m... we’re having a real, old-fashioned family Christmas.” He gave a disbelieving laugh at being able to say those words. “With a little bit of Winchester dysfunction thrown in on top, of course.”

He chuckled. “Then, why are you calling me? Bored of the festivities already?”

“No.” He breathed in a deep breath. Even though he hadn’t really known what he was doing as he dialed the demon’s number, the pieces had since clicked into place. “What do you do to celebrate Christmas?”

“I don’t,” Crowley said, his voice clearly confused. “I’m a demon, and it’s not like I have any fond memories of the day from when I was human.”

“Well, maybe it’s time you make some.”

There was a pause. “What are you saying?” he asked slowly.

“Come over.” Dean wasn’t sure why his heart was pounding so loudly as he said the words, but it was getting harder to hear himself over it. “We have more than enough food.”

“What’s the matter? Don’t have enough dysfunction, so you need to add a demon into the mix?” He was trying to joke, but it sounded strained.

“No, I just...” He sighed. Time to bite the bullet. “I want you here. You’re part of this family.”

The pause was longer this time, and when Crowley spoke again, his voice seemed rougher than usual. “I’m pretty sure your mother and brother disagree.”

“They’ll come to terms with it. Eventually.”

“I don’t know, squirrel...”

“Did I mention we have some really freakin’ strong eggnog?” he tried, determined not to give up.

He could almost hear Crowley’s smile break out across his face. “Whiskey or rum?”

“Whiskey, of course,” Dean scoffed in mock-offense.

He knew full well that the next pause was just Crowley’s attempt to draw out the suspense. “Well, I do have a gift I need to get to you somehow.”

The smile that had been spreading over his face faltered. “I didn’t get you anything...”

“Yes, you did,” he interrupted, his voice firm. “I’ll see you soon.”

[skybound2]

All I Want for Christmas is Drowley - Master Fic Post

I recently wrote 7 quick fics as presents for @hekate1308 (*waves*) for the week-long “All I Want for Christmas is Drowley” exchange (because this ship has got its claws in me good and deep, in case you didn’t know!) and now that Christmas has come and gone (*sniffle*) I’ve confessed that I am the writer, and am now starting the process of uploading them all to Ao3 (and FFN), after some minor editing of course. I’ll be adding the links to this post for each fic as they go live. (My hope is to have them all up before the new year. *fingers crossed*)  They are all up now folks! YAY!

Hope you all enjoy, and once again to @hekate1308 I had a BLAST writing these, and I am SO GLAD that you enjoyed them :-D

Day 1: “Roadside Attraction” on tumblr, Ao3, and FFN

Day 2: ”Lazy Mornings” on tumblr, Ao3, and FFN

Day 3: “Mushroom Kingdom” on tumblr, Ao3, and FFN

Day 4: “His Laugh” on tumblr, Ao3, and FFN

Day 5: “Storybook” on tumblr, Ao3, and FFN

Day 6: “Words Not Said” on tumblr, Ao3, and FFN

Day 7: “Factory Settings” on tumblr, Ao3, and FFN

[reblogging4thewin]

FIRST LINE OF YOUR LAST 20 STORIES!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line.

Thanks,@thisisapaige for the tag!

(these are all Destiel fics unless labled otherwise; I also skipped poems)

Sleepy Stares: Cas was staring at Dean, as he often had over the years, but this was different.

A Solid Foundation (original horror story): As she parked the jeep in front of the shell of what would be their new home, Lisa turned towards her partner.

I'm the One He's Walking to: “Do you want to go for a walk this evening?”  Cas had asked Dean that day over lunch.

The Theme is Dean: When Dean had said he wanted to throw a western-themed party, he thought Sam was going to tease him - that themed parties are for kids, and Dean's turning 43.

Did you mean it?: “Dean?”  Cas strode purposefully down the hallway of the bunker, heading towards Dean’s room.

Sir, this is a Wendy's: The lunch rush was ending, and the last customer had just walked out the door.

I won't ask for much this Christmas; I won't even wish for snow: Dean stood on the porch and looked up at the stars.

A Cozy Gift, a Warm Embrace: Like most mornings, Dean awoke to find that Cas had rolled over in their comforter, such that it wrapped under and around him, leaving Dean exposed on his side of the bed.

Marshmallows to Share: Jack popped another mini marshmallow into his mouth.

Go to Therapy: The past few months have been a whirlwind for Dean. (For reference, here are the next two lines that was a setup for: Finding out that his whole life was a lie - except for one very important angel, losing everything, and then finally winning their freedom left him reeling.  After 42 years of keeping everything locked inside and putting on his brave hero and big-brother face for the world, Dean was, for the first time, free to be himself.)

Maybe that Makes Me a Fool (Drowley): Freshly human again, and alone, Dean had some time to think.

This is How I Held You: “Trust me.” That had never worked out well for Dean before.

Relatively Blunt, Obviously Oblivious (CasMick and Destiel): Cas called Mick asking to talk about a case, and they met up at a bar.

Immortalized Grip: Much like the scar of Cas' handprint had faded from Dean's shoulder with time, healing, and multiple resurrections, the scar of Dean's hand on Cas' shoulder was also starting to fade.

Halo: Eileen’s breath was heavy in her chest.

Everyday Beauty: One day, Cas bought a Polaroid camera at a flea market.

How to Save a Life: Cas, an angel, deciding to become a hunter, was unexpected, to put it mildly.

In the Arms of an Angel: The colors and sounds of cheer surrounding them gave Cas a warm, fuzzy feeling.

Revelation: Cas slammed the door of the dungeon and used his blood to ward it from Billie, who was approaching fast.

Paint it Black (Drowley, Demon Dean): Crowley thought back to what he said to Dean when he first turned.

Bonus (since one of my 20 most-recent stories was not a fanfic):

21. Heaven Sent: “Are you sure you can do this?” Dean asks Jack.

I think all of these fall into 5 categories:

'Here's something unexpected breaking their routines' (like 1, 4, and 17)

Literally just state what the scene is (like 2, 6, 8, 11, 13, 14, 16, 19 - oh this must be my most common thing to do then)

Mention a circumstance and make you wonder why (like 10 & 15)

Start with a quote are jumping right into the action (like 3, 5, 12, and 21).

Start with just a simple action - which sets up going into that character's thoughts (like 7, 9, 18, and 20).

If I had to pick a favorite, it'd be This is How I Held You. Heaven Sent is a close second though. These both start with quotes actually...hmm...

No pressure tags: @you-cant-spell-subtext-without; @doctorprofessorsong; @fellshish; @emeraldcas

[buckyscrystalqueen]

The Ring and The Cure: Part 8

Pairings: Crowley x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst, threats, mention of past Drowley

Word Count: 1,199

A/N: Repost to spread it out the way it should be.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Where we goin’ mommy?” Candice asked as you strapped her into her car seat and you smiled at her.

“We are going to the park for just a little bit and then we are going to go Christmas shopping for daddy.” She giggled as she kicked her feet in front of her.

“I thought Santa brought the presents?” She asked innocently and you laughed and nodded while you snapped the last snap.

“Santa brings presents to good little boys and girls not mommies and daddies so WE get to go pick out some things for daddy!” You bopped her on the nose the same way your mother-in-law always did and closed the car door. You felt your phone vibrate in your back pocket and a wave of nausea crashed over you. You knew what you were doing was so very wrong but to hurt Crowley again all these years later with revealing the truth just seemed too cruel no matter what he had done to you. You got in the car, quickly glanced at Sam’s ‘I’m here’ message and took a big gulp of water to wash down the taste of bile in your throat.

As you drove the few minute drive, every fiber of your being told you to turn around and not have this conversation with Sam. Doing so could only end up in disaster but you had a small amount of fear that if you didn’t meet him, he would go to Crowley and say something to him himself. You didn’t know Sam from Adam but you knew Crowley had known Sam a lot longer than he had known you and you feared the worse in that situation. 

As you pulled into the park, you could see Sam parked in the middle of the gravel parking lot, leaning against the hood of his car with an air of casual nervousness around him. You parked on his driver side door, fought desperately against the nervous nauseous feeling in your stomach and got out of the car to let Candice go off and play.

“We aren’t staying long Candi Cane.” You called out after as she tore across the playground toward the slides. With a heavy sigh you walked over and stood next to him so you could keep an eye on your baby girl. “So talk, Sam.” You said as the two of you watched her giggle as she climbed up the steps only to peel into fits of laughter as she slid down. When she hit the bottom, she always did a little bounce before she would dash around to the stairs giggling away to do it all over again.

“I want to be a part of this.” He said as he gestured toward the playground. “Even if it’s just once in a while.” 

“Sam. We had a deal. We both knew I was most likely going back to Crowley at some point and you knew that we were a one time, never gunna happen again thing. If you wanted to be a part of this then why didn’t you say something the day you found out? All four of us could have put this to bed then?”

“I was scared, (Y/N).” He said as he glanced over at you while you shook your head slowly, not taking your eyes off your daughter and he continued. “I’m a hunter, I live a dangerous life. I know I can’t raise a kid in that lifestyle. At that time what we did was fine for her but now that she’s older…” You whipped your head over to glare at him as anger raged through you.

“Now that she’s older what, Sam? You think you can just step in and say ‘Hey, real daddy wants to come play tea party since mommy did such a good job raising you and keeping you safe with your fake daddy?’ Who the hell do you think you are?”

“That’s… ugh… that’s not what I meant to say…” you nodded sarcastically and looked back at the playground to watch Candice play with the spinning blocks to make sure she wasn’t paying attention.

“Sam, we had an agreement. Point blank; simple, and at the end of the day that agreement has had me lying by omission to my husband for the past 5 years. You think it’s hard on you to not be in her life because you saw her once at a diner a few weeks ago? Try wondering how long it’s gunna take the King of Hell to realize that his little princess is most definitely not Dean’s and that his wife has been lying to him since the day they got back together. Do you know how many times I have wanted to tell him the truth but didn’t because I was terrified what he would do to me much less what he could do to my daughter? Do you know how hard it is to look into the eyes of the man you love and tell him that you love him when you have a life changing secret about his daughter that would break his heart if he found out? Sam, if I could tell him today with a guarantee that nothing would happen to me or Candice, I would, but…”

“I always wondered how long it would take you to crack.” The sound of Crowley’s voice behind you at that moment made your stomach turn and your knees buckled nearly sending you to the ground. You stumbled and spun around to look at him as tears instantly burst from your eyes.

“Baby…” Crowley stepped toward you and shook his head.

“I’ve known. I’ve always known.” A sobbed apology escaped your throat as he wrapped you in a hug. 

“How did you know?” Sam asked as he stood awkwardly in front of his car a little farther away from where he had been a few seconds before.

“Well like I told your brother, I am not stupid. She has those bloody puppy eyes of yours; royal pain in the ass, too. I knew within a few weeks of her birth and I left it alone.”

“Why?” You and Sam asked at the same time as you leaned back to look at your husband. He used his thumb to wipe away your tears and gave you a partial shrug.

“You had your reasons on why you found it necessary to make this choice. Neither of the brothers stepped up to take responsibility and I refused to lose you from my life. So I made the choice to let sleeping dogs lie, accepted that this was somehow your way of punishing me for how I treated you for years and moved on.” He whipped his head up suddenly and scowled.

“Candice! Absolutely not, get down!” He demanded and you turned around to see what your child was getting into just as she was slinking back over the thick plastic ring of the tunnel she was trying to climb on top of. “Swear that child will be the death of me.” He grumbled. You shook your head and laughed as you pulled out of his arms.

“You've been doing that shit for like 8 years and it still weirds me out every time.” You said.

“King of Hell has its perks.” He looked over at Sam, tilted his head and you could see he was slightly annoyed. “Moose, I have had five years and ample opportunities to murder you for this. Obviously I am not going to so will you quit being a nervous prat and join the conversation so I am not shouting across a playground.” Sam slinked over and leaned against the driver side door of his car as the two of you leaned against yours. The three of you stood silently before Crowley became really annoyed. 

“Ok well I have much better things to do than stand around all day so let’s get on with it. Now I had this discussion with Squirrel already so here is what I propose.” He pointed at Candice who was pushing herself on the swing and he looked back at Sam. “That is my daughter. Under no bloody circumstances are you to say otherwise because she does not need to be dragged into our dysfunctional family issues. 

Now, I know this little gathering today was because you wanted to see her and my wife was scared that I would find out because I always find out…” He said as he pulled out Candice’s hex bag out of his pocket and held it in front of you. You turned bright red in embarrassment as he gathered the bag in his hand and put it back in his pocket.  “That is why you two for some bloody reason felt the need to hide this from me. Now, as long as my wife agrees to it we will come up with an arrangement where ‘Uncle Moose and Uncle Squirrel’ can see their ‘niece’.” He punctuated the new titles to Sam pointedly and Sam slowly nodded and looked over at Candice who you could tell was starting to get bored with no one to play with. 

“Lastly, I will say the same thing to you that I said to Squirrel; Sam, look at me.” Crowley said his tone suddenly much harsher than it had been a moment before. Sam’s head whipped toward Crowley who pointed at him. “If you so much as THINK about trying to take my little girl from us and you will find your ass on a rack finding out exactly what Dean went through at Alistair's hands. You think your soul was mangled when you left Lucifer's cage; try to take our daughter and you will know what bloody mangled really looks like. Do we have an understanding?” Sam nodded rapidly and you could only begin to imagine the images that were flashing in his mind. 

Crowley looked at you pointedly and you knew to stay where you were. He looked back at Sam and gave him the “come here” gesture as he headed toward the playground. You and Sam exchanged a slightly worried glance before he darted after the King of Hell. With a small smile, you watched Crowley introduce Uncle Sam (“or Uncle Moose whichever you prefer, Candi Cane”) before he simply turned and walked back to you. Your eyebrows shot to your hairline as Candice grabbed her new friend's hand and dragged his 6’4” frame toward the slide. 

“You're being shockingly calm about this.” you said hesitantly and Crowley shrugged as he leaned against the car next to you; both of you watching Sam play with his daughter. 

“Honestly darling I look at it this way. When we first got together I treated you horrendously and you found it in yourself to forgive and forget. Yes, you had to leave for a year or so but you still forgave without question. Now, I do not like that you lied to me at all however, you had your reasons whatever they may be. And as you did for me, I will give you the same courtesy. 

Now that being said, you lie to me like this again and I will not be so generous. The same way you wouldn't be if I had the audacity to cheat on you. I shouldn't have to threaten you for that give and take, my love. We don't have the most conventional relationship kitten. We have both, pardon the pun, been to hell and back and we are still standing here in love. I consider that a positive thing at the end of the day.” 

“You’re doing a good thing here.” you said as you pointed to the playground to where Sam was pushing Candice on the swing. “Who knew you had a soft spot for the Winchesters?” He chuckled and put his arm around your waist.

“Tell a soul and I will give our daughter sugar before bed for a month.”

Part 9

[newstfionline]

The U.S. Air Force learned to code—and saved the Pentagon millions

By Mark Wallace, Fast Company, July 5, 2018

In October 2016, Eric Schmidt found himself in the Arab Gulf nation of Qatar. Then executive chairman of Alphabet, Inc., Google’s parent company, Schmidt was touring military installations in his role as chairman of the Defense Innovation Board (DIB), whose mandate was to provide the U.S. secretary of defense with “independent advice and recommendations on innovative means to address future challenges.”

At the Air Operations Center (AOC) at Qatar’s Al Udeid Air Base, Schmidt saw up close the way that today’s U.S. Air Force meets its enormous challenges: with magnets and colored plastic cards. The Air Force was then engaged in an offensive against the so-called Islamic State forces in Mosul, Iraq. But when Schmidt asked an AOC commander what his biggest concern was, he got a surprising answer. As Schmidt told me, “He said, ‘Well, frankly, it’s something different: I don’t want them to erase my whiteboard.’”

The AOC at Al Udeid is where AFCENT, the U.S. Air Forces Central Command, oversees air force operations for over 20 countries from Egypt to Kazakhstan. An enormous amount of data is pushed through the center every day, through a system of 43 software applications that help with everything from assessing targets to planning attacks, getting information to pilots, monitoring operations, analyzing damage done, and more.

Not all the functions of the AOC are carried out on a computer, however. The whiteboard, as Schmidt and other DIB members soon discovered, was where daily planning took place for AFCENT’s aerial refueling operations. “We got the missions for the day, figured out what targets needed to be hit, and how much fuel was needed, who needed the fuel, and when they needed it,” explains U.S. Colonel Mike Drowley, AFCENT chief of staff. “It was an eight- or nine-hour process [for three or more people] to try and figure all the ins and outs. It was like a Tetris game of blocks and pucks.”

That’s a literal description. “They would actually use physical distance on the whiteboard to determine whether they could meet their mission,” Schmidt said. To do so, a person called “the Gonker” entered data into an Excel spreadsheet known as “the Gonkulator,” while “the Planner” arranged magnetic pucks and plastic laminated cards on the whiteboard to indicate how long planes could stay in the air.

For Schmidt, the obvious question was whether the base had access to more modern software. “And the answer came back, ‘Yes, but it doesn’t work,’” he said.

“The comment around the group was, this just isn’t that hard a problem to solve,” said board member and Caltech professor Richard Murray, who was in Qatar with Schmidt and Medin. “It was sort of hard to comprehend why the original software couldn’t solve it. You could imagine it had been written a long time ago, it just couldn’t handle this number of tankers, whatever, fine. But can’t you just go fix this? And the answer was basically, no.”

“That can’t be the right answer,” Murray said.

But under federal regulations, it is. Standard DoD procedure requires systems like the AOC software to be competitively bid, and for the winning contractor to design, build, certify, and test the entire system before delivering it to users--and then to go through the entire process again each time any appreciable amount of code needed to be changed. That’s in part why the Air Operations Center software had been in use more or less unchanged since the 1990s.

But the board’s visit set off a singular chain of events, and less than six months later, tanker planning at the Qatar AOC was being done via state-of-the-art software that saved hours every day and millions of dollars every week. And much of the rest of the AOC software was also being overhauled--by a fast-moving cadre of Air Force engineers working hand-in-hand with Pivotal Software to step in where a $745 million contract with a big defense contractor had produced nothing over the previous five years.

The DIB had visited Qatar in October. By Christmas, Air Force coders and product managers back at the AOC talked to prospective users about what they needed. By April 2017 the tanker planning tool--named JIGSAW--was in use in Qatar. Four months from start to in production, in use in combat operations. The average DoD software project takes almost three years, according to a recent study.

JIGSAW cost a grand total of $2.2 million. The new software is not only saving time--planning now takes a matter of two to three hours, rather than all day--but is also more reliable: AFCENT now scrambles two to three fewer tankers each day--at a cost of about $250,000 each. That means the project paid for itself in under a week.

And the whiteboard on which airmen formerly did tanker planning? It’s being installed in a museum at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base outside Dayton, Ohio.

[ao3feed-crowley]

Factory Settings

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2lyyhHI

by skybound2

"I've been trying! How the bloody hell do you think I've been managing all this time? Running around with you lot? Ignoring my gut instincts to maim and torture first, ask forgiveness never? I've got a constant bloody mantra running through my noggin' of 'What Would Dean Winchester Bloody Do?!' just so I have half a bloody chance of not messing it all up! So excuse me, if every now and again I forget to focus on the idiot of the week and instead prioritize saving yours and my hides from a painful and gruesome death!"

Words: 1035, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 7 of All I Want for Christmas is Drowley

Fandoms: Supernatural

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Crowley (Supernatural), Dean Winchester

Relationships: Crowley (Supernatural)/Dean Winchester

Additional Tags: Romance, Post-Season 12, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Drama

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2lyyhHI

[ao3feedsastiel]

All I Want for Christmas is Drowley 2017

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2AVPdOP

by songofhell

All my works for my Drowley Christmas love week 2017.

Words: 2731, Chapters: 6/7, Language: English

Fandoms: Supernatural

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Crowley (Supernatural), Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Jack Kline, Mary Winchester

Relationships: Crowley (Supernatural)/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Sam Winchester, (in ch. 7)

Additional Tags: Christmas

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2AVPdOP

[shanemuhdej]

Mistletoe

(Sorry this is so late! I was busy with Christmas stuff.)

Crowley was frustrated.

For weeks now, he’d been obsessively hanging mistletoe, and nothing had come of it. Every time he saw Dean, he’d conjure up some mistletoe, but it seemed his boyfriend was purposely ignoring it. Not to mention, he’d seen Dean sparingly lately, what with taking care of business in Hell. So all in all, he hadn’t a proper kiss from Dean in weeks.

But now it was Christmas Eve, and Crowley was determined. Dean had invited him to the bunker for the evening, and Crowley would be damned if he kept it G rated. Well, he was damned anyway, but you get the idea.

So he stood outside the door to the bunker, waiting for someone to answer his knock. His breath smoked out and dissipated in the cold air, and a light snow was softly falling from the sky.

The door creaked open and Dean was upon the threshold. After greeting and a short smooch (that didn’t count, Crowley told himself), they retreated into the warmth of the bunker.

“Where’s the Moose?” Crowley asked conversationally as they walked through the halls of the bunker.

“Oh, he’s out with Cas, getting some stuff,” Dean told him. Then he suddenly stopped walking. “Well, what do you know.”

Crowley bumped into Dean’s back in the narrow hallway. “What?”

Dean took his hand and nodded upwards. Hanging directly above them was a piece of mistletoe.

“Guess we gotta kiss,” Dean drawled.

“You cheeky bastard,” Crowley mumbled, noticing that the door to Dean’s bedroom was about two steps away. “You avoided my mistletoe on purpose, to make me wait for tonight.”

“Maybe,” his boyfriend shrugged. “Are you going to kiss me or not?”

Crowley rolled his eyes and went in for the kiss.

Neither of them were very good at being subtle.

[gatoradeinthemorning]

Day 7: First Christmas Together

I am so sorry this was late!  Holiday stuff kept me busier than expected yesterday.

When Dean was three, Christmas was a magical wonderland.  There was snow.  There were presents.  Songs and good smells and bright lights all around him, and some of the best food he’d ever had.

When Dean was four, Christmas sucked.  That was when he really understood that this was his life now and there was no going back.

When Dean was seven, he tried.  He couldn’t do much to make things magical for Sammy, but he did everything he could think of.  It wasn’t nearly enough.

When Dean was twelve, Christmas was just a day.  Dad didn’t make it home, so Dean tried to lie to Sam, but Sam wasn’t having it.  Sam had Dad’s journal.  He knew everything now.  Sam gave him the protective charm Bobby had given him for Dad, and Dean loved it.  He was never going to take that thing off.

When Dean was twenty-eight, he was staring down his last Christmas.  Sam went along with things, letting Dean have his Christmas celebration.  It was crappy, just like all those early ones.  It was perfect, because it was with Sam.

When Dean was thirty-seven (ish?), he got Christmas crazy again.  He blamed it on the fact that he was alive and happy, Sam was alive and happy (even had a boyfriend), the world wasn’t ending and neither he nor Sam were under a death sentence or so pissed at the other they couldn’t be around each other.  That hadn’t happened for at least ten years.

Besides, he had a boyfriend this year too.

Christmas was seen as a horrible English holiday in Scotland in the 1600s.  Rowena had always celebrated the solstice, naturally, but Christmas was never a thing for Fergus MacLeod.  It was even less a thing for Crowley, the crossroads demon.  As the King of Hell, he’d noticed it, but never really cared.

That changed the year Dean asked him to come over for Christmas.  Getting an invitation to the Bunker was still rare, even though they’d been dating for several months.  Dean usually met him somewhere else, because Sam and Castiel were more comfortable that way.

The Bunker was decorated, there was a giant meal, and Sam and Cas were actually very welcoming.  Crowley had never believed much in miracles he didn’t create himself, but he considered that one.

Now Cas had taken Sam off for some sort of field trip and Dean and Crowley had the Bunker to themselves.  “Thanks for coming.  And for being so well-behaved.  I know you love torturing those two.”

“They behaved so I did.  Wouldn’t want to ruin Christmas, not if I want to be invited back next year.”

Dean snorted.  “You mean not if you wanted to get laid tonight.”

“Oh please, darling.  You could never hold a rage at me long enough to resist when I turn on the charm.  Getting people to give up something precious is what I used to do for a living.”

“Doesn’t work on me or you’d have had a lot more control of me when I was a Knight of Hell.”

Crowley shrugged.  “Depends what I’m offering in exchange.”

“If you don’t lose some of the smarm, you’re not getting laid tonight.”

“You’d never deny yourself your Christmas present.”

“Oh, I hate you.”  Dean grabbed Crowley’s wrist and dragged him off to the bedroom.

[hekate1308]

All I Want for Christmas is Drowley - Day 4!

Hi again!! *waves* I hope you have been enjoying my offerings this week as much as I’ve been enjoying working on them :D My one for tonight once again does NOT follow a prompt. Also, this is sorta half-way between a fic and an extended headcanon thing? IDK. It’s weird. Still, hope you like!!

His Laugh

Of all things, it was Dean Winchester’s laugh that was Crowley’s downfall.

That stupid, annoying, rare, bright…laugh.

Damn it to hell for all eternity.

(Please?)

It had been one thing for Crowley to be attracted to Dean Winchester physically. The man is a specimen of perfection that sculptors would weep at the chance to capture in stone. It would be impossible for Crowley to not have a…healthy appreciation for it.  

In the same vein, it makes complete sense that Crowley would be aroused by the violence of which Dean is capable. By the pure killer housed within the hunter. Crowley may be a salesman at heart, but he’s done his time at the rack, and Dean…well, Dean is an artist.

A pass could even be given for how Crowley’s interest is piqued whenever the intelligence that Dean chooses to hide more often than not peeks out. And if Crowley finds it especially entertaining when he gets to witness that intelligence being used against his enemies? Well, he is a demon after all.

Those are all aspects of Dean Winchester for which Crowley can, understandably, claim to have a visceral response. And they are all aspects of Dean Winchester that Crowley could, in theory, rinse from his mind as easily as blood from his hands.

And if that was all it was, he would pay it no mind. He would simply log the many appealing characteristics of Dean Winchester away with everything else that he’s found intriguing in his long life, but - ultimately - had to let go.

Unfortunately for Crowley, that’s not all that it is.

He first becomes aware of this fact in a terrible dive bar at the ass-end of Nebraska whose owners have clearly never heard of air conditioning. He’s settled on a bar stool two down from Dean Winchester’s pretty little face, intending to poke and prod at him. Just a bit. For fun.

(Crowley, perhaps,should have realized that he was developing a problem when this particular pastime skyrocketed to the top of his ‘most favorite activities list’ in quick order. If pressed, he will blame his lack of foresight on the fact that he’s a demon and should therefore be immune to such human-like… feelings.

Stupid bloody feelings.)

Dean - unsurprisingly - scowls when Crowley sits down, so he opts to open with a stupid little joke, as an icebreaker. He doesn’t even recall what it was he said. Something about it being hotter than hell he thinks.

(It was an awful, awful pun. Of the sort that most people would groan at, and beg to never hear the likes of again. But Dean has a soft-spot for awful puns, and was also just desperately in need of a laugh at that very moment, not that Crowley had anyway of knowing either of these things at the time.)

But it…it makes Dean laugh. It’s lighthearted. Genuine. It’s accompanied by an unassuming smile the likes of which Crowley can’t recall ever having directed at him before. By anyone.

It’s at that precise moment that Crowley knows he’s well and truly screwed.

*sigh*

From that moment on everything just goes down hill for the sometimes King of Hell when it comes to Dean Winchester.

And before Crowley knows it, he finds himself positively charmed by the stupidest things about the hunter. From the laser focus he has right before he swings a blade down into the neck of one Crowley’s more idiotic subordinates to the way that he picks at the damn label on a bottle of beer as he drinks it.

He finds himself playing and replaying conversations in his head. Begins to orchestra schemes both elaborate and (frankly) embarrassing, just as an excuse to be near him. Spending time in his general vicinity, even when he’s angry, or frustrated.

Crowley, to his unending horror, even begins to find flannel and denim…attractive.

*shudder*

The whole thing ends up being a study in failure for Crowley. From leading Dean to get the Mark of Cain, and ushering him into a new life as a demon. All his machinations seeming to pay off, as he finally, finally, gets to have Dean all to himself - only to realize that a non-human Dean?

Isn’t capable of the sort of laughter that made Crowley really want him in the first place.

He ends up handing him back on a silver platter to the moose and the angel. An unspoken demand of ‘fix him’ hanging in the air when he departs.

Which they do, of course. It takes them a year and releasing God’s sister onto the world to do it, but they put Dean to rights.

It’s another year and some change after that before Crowley is gifted with that laugh once more. Another bar in another state. One that even has a working air conditioning this time.

He decides it was worth it, right then and there.

Like he said.

Well and truly screwed

[bestiesandagents]

All I Want for Christmas is Drowley

Last year I hosted a Drowley Love Week to celebrate the Christmas season, and if I can get enough participation, I would love to do it again this year. It will be taking place the week leading up to Christmas (18-24), and it will be a time to spread as much drowley love as we possibly can (I don’t know about you, but after last season, I’m really in need of just that).

Here’s how it’ll work:

Message me by December 15 if you’re interested.

December 16 or 17, I’ll let you know who you will be sending drowley goodness to.

It might be a good idea to message them anonymously before things get underway to ask them what they like, if they have any triggers, etc.

Make sure you have your ask box and submissions open/anon turned on for the week of the 18-24.

To submit anonymously, you need to log out of tumblr and leave the “name” field blank on the submission form.

Each day you will be anonymously sending your partner something drowley. It can be whatever you want - headcanon, fanfic, fanart, edit, poetry, video, anything you can think of.

There are some daily Christmas-themed prompts below, but you don’t have to use them. You don’t even have to send Christmas-themed stuff.

Post everything you get tagged ‘all I want for christmas is drowley’ so that I can reblog it all.

At the end of the week, you can reveal who you are, if you want to.

Please share this with anyone you think might be interested! The more people participating, the better!

Prompts:

Monday the 18: Snow

Tuesday the 19: Keeping Warm by the Fire

Wednesday the 20: Spiked Eggnog

Thursday the 21: Naughty or Nice

Friday the 22: Christmas Shopping

Saturday the 23: Christmas Lights

Sunday the 24: Your favorite Christmas fanfic trope (i.e. fake boyfriend for the holidays, caught under the mistletoe, etc.)

[skybound2]

Hi there fellow Drowley lover. Have a few questions for you hun. 1. How old are you? It's very important. Don't want to send anything inappropriate, given your age. I would ask you off anon but I can't sadly. I have to remain anon, thems the rules. 2. Do you have any triggers or squeaks regarding these two handsome men? Any preferences? Demon Dean over Dean? Favorite episodes? Favorite quotes? A wishlist of sorts for these two like idea, plots, etc.

Hello there!! First up, I’m a bit of a fandom old, logging in at 38yo, so no worries there. As for triggers/squicks, if you can avoid ageplay or cannibalism we should be good. Given the holiday season, I’d probably prefer stuff that’s not TOO dark, I think? Good vibes and all! I’m good with both Demon!Dean and Human!Dean. I do have a bit of a preference for canon!verse vs all human AUs (though I am not opposed to the latter). I’m a big fan of pretty much all the episodes Crowley is in, though 8.23, 10.17, 12.7 and 12.15 are high on the list. No particular quotes, or wish list of sorts. (I really do enjoy stories from an outsiders POV if that helps?)  But really, anything with these two together would make me all sorts of happy :-D

[ocegion]

Day 7: First Christmas

“Hey!” Dean slapped Crowley’s hand away from the gift.

“What?” Crowley looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Breakfast first, gifts second.”

Crowley pouted as he followed Dean into the war room, where Sam, Castiel, and Mary were all already seated around the table. Dean’s face lit up as his gaze settled on his family, and Crowley couldn’t help but smile as well. Crowley knew that, while Dean had celebrated Christmas before, he had never had a real Christmas celebration like this. This was a first for both of them.

“Merry Christmas!” Dean greeted them.

Mary got up to pull her son into a hug. “Merry Christmas,” she replied, while Sam and Castiel echoed the sentiment from the table.

“And Merry Christmas, Crowley,” Mary added, turning to him.

“Merry Christmas,” Crowley said politely. He still wasn’t entirely sure how to act around his boyfriend’s mother, but at least she seemed to accept him, so it could be worse.

They all settled down to a breakfast of biscuits and gravy with lots of bacon, and it was delicious, but Crowley couldn’t quite relax. He and Dean had been dating for a few months now, but this was the first real family gathering he had been to… ever. Not just with Dean – he and Rowena had certainly never done anything like this before she abandoned him. This was all so unfamiliar to him, and he didn’t do well with unfamiliar.

He felt a hand encircle his, squeezing slightly, and he looked up to see Dean looking at him. “This is all new for me, too,” he leaned in to mutter in Crowley’s ear. “Thanks for being here for me.”

Crowley gave a small smile and nodded. Being there for Dean, that he could do.

As everyone else was cleaning up breakfast, Dean pulled him back into the library, where the Christmas tree stood.

“Shouldn’t we help?” Crowley asked.

Dean shook his head. “It’s our first Christmas together. I want to be able to exchange gifts just us. They’ll understand.”

Crowley smiled as he crouched down to grab his gift to Dean out from under the tree. “You go first,” he insisted, pushing it into his hands.

Dean chuckled. “No argument here.” He set it down on the nearest table and began to unwrap it. There were a few pieces of paper inside, on top of which were four back stage passes to an AC/DC concert in Vegas.

Dean’s eyes grew wide as saucers as he looked back to Crowley. “Are you serious?” he gasped.

“Of course,” Crowley answered with a wide smile as he stepped forward to place his hands on Dean’s hips. “I’ve already talked to your brother about it, and he agrees, you need a vacation. I was thinking you, me, him, and Castiel, but obviously, you get to make the final decision on who goes. The rest of the papers are the hotel confirmation – two bedrooms for two weeks at the Skylofts at MGM Grand.”

“Holy shit. I…” Dean was clearly at a loss for words, so instead he grabbed Crowley by the tie and pulled him into a kiss. “I love you,” he muttered as he pulled away a minute later.

Crowley blinked in surprise. Dean’s face was already turned red, mild panic over what he had just said evident. “Um…” He cleared his throat. “I love you too, Dean.”

Dean pulled him in for another kiss. Normally, Crowley would be more than happy to keep kissing Dean until the human needed to pull back for air, but his first ever Christmas present was sitting under the tree behind him, and he wanted it.

He pulled back just a few seconds into the kiss. “My turn?” he asked hopefully.

Dean chuckled as he walked over to grab the present that Crowley had been trying to get into earlier that morning. “You make me look bad, but here you go,” he said as he set it on the table.

“I generally do,” Crowley teased as he tore into it. Inside was a personalized decanter set, engraved with a ‘C’ and a crown, in addition to a pair of silk boxers that read ‘Property of Dean’ across the ass. He grinned as he held up the boxers. “I hope you have a pair with my name.”

Dean smirked. “I’m wearing them now.”

“Can’t wait to see.” He put the boxers back in the box. “I love it.” He pulled Dean down into another kiss, fully intending to draw this one out for longer. That was, until Sam was clearing his throat behind him to announce it was time for everyone else to open their presents.

Crowley was happy that Mary seemed to like the earrings and necklace set that he got her, and while Sam didn’t like the moose sweater that he got him, he did like the book. Castiel was a little more happy with his angel sweater than Sam had been with his, and with enough pestering, Dean and Mary got them both to pull theirs on.

Mary, Sam, and Castiel had all pulled in together to get Crowley his favorite scotch to go in his decanter. Honestly, Crowley hadn’t expected anything from them, and he found that he couldn’t keep the smile off his face as the festivities continued.

After all the presents were opened, they pulled out the eggnog, hot chocolate, Christmas cookies, and popcorn and watched Mary’s favorite Christmas movie, White Christmas. Crowley stretched out on the couch, pulling Dean up to lay between his legs, his head resting on his chest. He had never quite understood the appeal of Christmas before today, but now he decided that spending Christmas with the Winchesters was definitely something he could get used to.

Sam’s sweater:

Cas’s sweater:

I’ve had a lot of fun sending you stuff this week, and I hope you’ve enjoyed it! If you were curious about who I am, I’m bestiesandagents.

Well, OF COURSE I’ve enjoyed it! Every single one, honestly, I loved it beginning to end and I’m very grateful to you <3333333

About this one specifically, my poor lil Crowley so unsure so cute ;_; And Dean might have no much more experience than him but he made an effort to make him at ease. The presents were really adequate and the sweaters are borderline perfection XD I can imagine Sam and Cas’ faces when each saw them, and Crowley and Dean snockering to the side. And then Christmas movie squeeeeee!

Thank you for this week, really <3

[hekate1308]

All I Want for Christmas is Drowley - Day 3!

Hello again! I’m back with your Day 3 offering. This one doesn’t follow a prompt, and isn’t even remotely holiday themed. Instead it is just…a completely random slice in the life of these two. *shrugs* Your choice as to when it takes place, though I imagine this is sometime in S10 or later. 

Mushroom Kingdom

“Sonuvabitch that stings!” Dean yanks his hand back from the frothing, deflating mess that - up until a few moments ago - was the amanitus monster Crowley and him have been after for the last few days.

A monster that is fast turning into a puddle of goo spreading at their feet.  

Crowley takes a hefty step back from the liquid remains, having no interest in getting it on his shoes.

(They’re handmade Italian leather. Can you blame him?)

Secured safely away from the…gunk, Crowley takes a moment to observe Dean in all his glory. Namely, making disgusted noises and scowling at his hand as he wipes it back and forth on his jeans. Crowley smirks at the scene Dean makes when he holds his hand out in front of him to examine it like it’s caused him personal offense. “Want me to kiss it better?”

“Buzz off, Crowley.”

“Aww, pudding. I do so love it when you play hard to get.”

Dean ignores the comment, instead pulling a bandana from the inside pocket of his jacket and wrapping it around his hand before edging between the cave wall and the puddle with care so that he can squat down beside the oozing remains.

“Freakin’ Goombas, man. What’s next? Bowser wandering through with Princess Peach tossed over his shoulder?”

“Hmm, doubtful. These things are solitary. But if you’re interested in a round of roleplay later, I could be persuaded.”

“Ew.” Dean blinks twice in rapid succession. “That’s a mental image I could’ve done without. Forever.”

“Keep telling yourself that, darling.” Crowley winks at him, and moves to the other side of the puddle, where the the lockbox he’s after is squirreled away behind a small outcropping of toadstool covered rocks.

Dean just rolls his eyes. Crowley watches as Dean shakes out his shoulders and takes a deep breath before reaching into the puddle to grasp his knife from where it’s sticking out of the fleshy lump in the middle. As soon as he has it in hand he jumps up and and away, a full body shudder rocking through him.

The action makes Crowley chuckle.

Dean scowls at him. “You still here?”

“Now now, is that anyway to treat your hunting partner?” Crowley grasps the handle of the box with one hand and rises, letting the weight of it dangle to his side as he does. Satisfied that he’s gotten what he came for and can afford to waste a little time agitating Dean.

It really is one of his favorite indulgences.

Dean flicks some of the ooze from the blade of the knife back towards the ground, casting a hard glance in Crowley’s direction. “We ain’t partners, Crowley.”

Crowley heaves out an exaggerated, put-upon sigh as he skirts the puddle. “Such a poor show of gratitude. It’s a wonder I ever bother.”

“Right.” Dean gestures with the blade towards the box in Crowley’s hand. “We both know you weren’t doing this outta the kindness of your heart.”

Crowley shrugs. “Hardly. But, in this instance our interests did align, and I was happy to assist.” He makes his way back around and falls into step beside Dean as the hunter heads for the exit of the cave, and the waiting Impala outside.

“And for so little in return. I mean really, I’m practically giving it away.”

Dean scoffs. “Oh yeah, you’re a real saint.”

When they’ve reached their destination, Crowley leans his hip against the car to indulge in another favorite activity.

Watching Dean Winchester do anything at all.

Dean throws open the trunk and rattles around inside. He starts with cleaning off his hands, then moves onto the knife, wiping an old rag over it until the edges are no longer dripping before storing it away. He then begins taking stock of his clothes, groaning when he notices a hole has been eaten clean through his jacket where the creature had bled on it.

(Crowley files the sound away. For later.)

Dean yanks the jacket off his frame, balling it up and tossing it into the trunk “Don’t you got somewhere to be. Hell, maybe?”

“Not at the moment. Hell’s running like a fine oiled machine these days. Besides…” Crowley slides along the length of the car until he’s just a few steps away from Dean. “I’m quite enjoying the show.” He flicks his free hand out to push aside the end of Dean’s open flannel so that he can graze his fingers over the exposed skin of Dean’s abdomen where it’s peeking out from behind the absolutely destroyed bottom of his shirt.

Crowley lets his hand linger for a few seconds, simply because he can. Reveling in how Dean doesn’t immediately swat him away; he lets the warmth of Dean seep in and through him as he moves his fingers in slow, even strokes. He keeps his eyes focused on Dean’s face, however. Enjoying the way that the hunter’s annoyed countenance is taken over by a flush of red at the touch; the way his mouth drops open just a bit as his tongue slips out to lick his lower lip.  

Crowley lowers the timber of his voice before he speaks again, pressing his advantage along with the tips of his fingers. “Best get you out of these clothes, love. Before any more of them are eaten away. What do you say we head back to that rattrap of a motel you’re staying in. Do a more…thorough clean up?”

Crowley’s focus is drawn down to Dean’s throat as the hunter swallows. When he glances back up, he’s pleased to note that the green of Dean’s eyes has all but been overtaken by the black of his blown out pupils.

Dean’s voice is thick and low when he speaks. “Somehow, I don’t think getting clean is what you have in mind.”

Crowley gives him a slow, heated smiled. “Why not take me up on the offer, and find out?”

Dean swallows again, and nods.

[hekate1308]

All I Want for Christmas is Drowley - Day 6 (Christmas Lights)

*waves* In a departure from the recent norm, tonight’s offering was inspired by the prompt and the season! Unfortunately, I have also been knee-deep in holiday preparations all day, so this one has not received the care and attention it should have. Sorry for that. Still hope you like! 

Words Not Said

There is nothing all that special about the day that Dean Winchester realizes he’s in love with Crowley.

The former King of Hell has been back amongst the living - a newly minted human (or more like a reissued human, Dean guesses, since this his second go at the whole mortality thing) for all of five months when the epiphany occurs.

It’s late June, and the summer solstice is upon them, and with it an uptick in monster activity all over the midwest. The over activity means that their merry little band of hunters has scattered off in pairs to cover the most miles, and prevent the most damage.

Sam’s off in North Dakota with their Mom handling a rogue werewolf (child’s play). Cas and Jack have the succubus in Ohio covered (there’s not enough bleach in the world to erase the incredibly detailed birds and bees conversation he was forced to participate in with the nephilim before the two set off - nowhere near enough). Which leaves Dean and Crowley in Iowa to address the most recent bout of shapeshifter nonsense.

It should be a milk run for the two. They handle worse on the daily.

But because fate is a jackass, something goes wrong, and Crowley gets injured.

The flash of fear spiked rage that courses through Dean isn’t all that surprising. Crowley has long since been incorporated into the portions of Dean’s brain, heart, and soul that focus exclusively on keeping his family safe.

No, what’s surprising is that during the approximately one minute and forty-five seconds that it takes for Dean to eliminate the threat and skid to Crowley’s side to revive him, the one coherent thought that manages to break through his regular internal repetitive loop of ‘No! Damn it! Don’t you die on me again you son of a bitch!’ is:

He’s going to die again, and you never told him.

When Crowley comes to, he coughs up a sickening amount of blood, but he’s breathing, which is the important thing.

Dean helps him to his feet, keeping him steady with an arm wrapped around the wide part of his back, one of Crowley’s arms wrapped over Dean’s shoulder for support.

Dean settles him down in the back of the Impala for the drive back, despite not liking how it makes it almost impossible for Dean to keep an eye on him, though he can hear him breathing well enough.

He keeps the radio off. Making the drive back a silent one. Yet, for some reason, the absence of one three-word sentence in particular digs at Dean the whole ride back.

The summer solstice passes, and the season bleeds away into fall, and though Dean and Crowley have many a conversation during that time, that sentence still doesn’t pass Dean’s lips.And Dean doesn’t do anything about the underlying emotions either. 

The world spins on.

In fact, by the time Dean thinks he may finally be ready to do or say something, the world has spun around enough times that it’s made it to the winter solstice and it looks like the ghost of 1950s Christmas has vomited up all over the bunker, courtesy of a Sam and Cas enabled Jack, who’d uncovered a loot box of decorations in the bowels of the bunker. The three ended up spending the prior week puttering around like a trio of deranged elves, hanging garland and mistletoe as far as the eye could see. All of it topped off with an electrical fire waiting to happen in the form of ancient Christmas string lights.

Still, despite the absolute death trap they’ve made out of the place, Dean has to admit that it does look festive. And he finds that it’s hard to be in anything but a cherry mood when you’re surrounded by twinkle lights, even if the bulbs dangling from the fraying strains are the size of mice, and the twinkling seems less like a feature and more like a sign of impending doom.

He ends up strolling through the bunker, a weird little spring in his step, humming a tune under his breath that is absolutely not a Christmas carol.

His wandering leads him to the place that Crowley has stashed himself: the little lounge off the smaller research library. The former demon is sitting on the small couch (a settee Dean thinks it may be called), absently twirling a pencil in his hand as he stares down a stack of papers in his hand.

Dean leans in the doorway for several minutes, enjoying watching the other man work. When Crowley does lift his head to notice Dean, he offers him a soft smile.

It makes Dean’s heart beat faster.

Dean smiles back, and asks what has Crowley so engrossed. When Crowley offers to show him, Dean doesn’t hesitate to cross the distance to join Crowley where he seats, the small piece of furniture forcing their legs to press against one another. 

Dean’s still not ready to say the words that have been plaguing him for six months. 

But he thinks, maybe he will be.

Soon.