#meanwhile at crowley’s flat

[dragonfire42]

Happy Nah-pacalypse!

@meanwhile-in-heaven

@meanwhile-at-the-bookshop

@meanwhile-in-hell

@meanwhile-at-crowleys-flat

[meanwhile-in-hell]

it was a bizzy week in hell with seereus werk to be dun all over earth. but tooday things slowd down enuff for manee demons to sneek in a brake. som of the demons hoo werk in coorupshuns and temptayshuns on the enternet notissed that the demon the trayter crowley has been spendeeng a lot of tyme on the ‘ao3’ and so for a larke they crasht it. there repoorts say they tymed it and sent an errer messuge that shuld have mayd him think he cawsed it.

@meanwhile-at-crowleys-flat

[heartcollectioncupcake]

The sold book saga 😭

@meanwhile-at-the-bookshop

@meanwhile-in-heaven

@meanwhile-at-crowleys-flat

[crowleysgirl56]

“AO3 is down? Well what am I supposed to do now. I know, hey Ciri call Azirapha-AH DAMN IT!”

Today Crowley was reading too many stories and accidentally crashed AO3.

@meanwhile-in-hell

[actual-changeling]

see but while we all know crowley did not tell aziraphale about living in his car, i don't think it would have worked out well even if he had

aziraphale: why are your plants in your car, isn't that awfully cramped?

crowley: yes but i couldn't leave them behind with shax now could i

aziraphale: ah. i see

[cue to him to fucking expelling shax from crowley's flat with a lot of un-angelic miracles and behaviour]

aziraphale: all done, dear boy, your flat is yours again

crowley, who was busy carrying all his plants into the bookshop to move in: it is what now

[fellshish]

Crowley could have easily rented another flat but like the dramatic bitch he is he lives in his car with his little plants waiting for aziraphale to ask him to move in. Meanwhile aziraphale is living on another planet mentally where he is too busy creating Situations in which he gets to casually touch crowley. 6,000 years 1 brain cell bouncing around between these two

[meanwhile-in-heaven]

Today, Supreme Archangel Aziraphale spent some hours in the prayer department again, trying to remind himself what he was fighting for, what he’d left earth for.

The last thing he expected was to hear a prayer from the one reason he almost stayed.

Crowley was clearly drunk, and most of his prayer barely made any sense and seemed to mention ducks more than was strictly necessary, but it was the first time Aziraphale had heard the demon’s voice in over a year. It wasn’t lost on Aziraphale that Crowley wasn’t praying to Her - only to him.

“Soon,” Aziraphale whispered, to himself as much as to Crowley. “I promise… soon.”

@meanwhile-at-crowleys-flat

[meanwhile-at-crowleys-flat]

Can confirm

Okay, but

Listen

If you think about it

Crowley is probably in his flat right now, binge watching Bluey while getting arse over tits drunk

You cannot prove me otherwise

[cottoncandysprite]

Alright here's my GO3 predictions already bc I'm insane:

There's a similar timeskip (the airdates lining up w the timeline)

By then Aziraphale is starting to get bogged down by the beaurocracy and starts dressing more like the other angels (unfortunately). Like his Charm is still there and he still has good intentions but he can only do so much and his time in heaven away from Crowley is starting to rub off on him in terms of his style and mindset

Crowley meanwhile is an absolute disaster as always, but they're starting to recover. He did get the flat back, and he's got a sort of cautious mentorship with the over-eager Muriel (and still making sure they don't sell any of the books in case Aziraphale comes back). Their walls are higher than ever before and he acts like a bitter ex whenever Azi/Heaven are mentioned.

And of course s3e1 ends with aziracrow finally meeting up again, a rendezvous at their park bench, like old times, so Azi can inform Crowley about the second coming, saying things aren't going as planned and he needs crowley's help. The tension can be cut with a knife.

Idk what happens after that but that hard reset to their dynamic is eating at my brain fr

[meanwhile-at-the-coffeeshop]

Today, a patron’s baby started screaming. Mortified, she turned to leave before she’d even ordered. Crowley hopped out of line and said, “I used to be a nanny. May I?” The baby giggled and reached out toward him, so the frazzled mother agreed. Crowley bounced the baby on his knee and hummed ancient lullabies while the woman finished the first hot cup of coffee she’d had in months.

@meanwhile-at-crowleys-flat

[dragonfire42]

There are a few Meanwhile daily blogs on Tumblr!

For a happier one that takes place in the future check out the original @meanwhile-at-the-cottage,

For updates on what's happening with our favorite characters before then check these out: @meanwhile-at-crowleys-flat @meanwhile-in-heaven, @meanwhile-in-hell, @meanwhile-at-the-bookshop

(and sometimes they interact too!)

[look-at-you-you-re-gorgeous]

😂genius

it was a bizzy week in hell with seereus werk to be dun all over earth. but tooday things slowd down enuff for manee demons to sneek in a brake. som of the demons hoo werk in coorupshuns and temptayshuns on the enternet notissed that the demon the trayter crowley has been spendeeng a lot of tyme on the ‘ao3’ and so for a larke they crasht it. there repoorts say they tymed it and sent an errer messuge that shuld have mayd him think he cawsed it.

@meanwhile-at-crowleys-flat

[aziraphales-library]

Y’all are awesome and I appreciate the hell out of this account! Any fics that are an attempt at a season 3? Preferably comedic ones! Thank you so much and keep up the amazing work! ❤️

Hello. We have a #good omens s3 speculation tag, so check that out. Here are more to add that have some kind of humour tag...

a place to be by kaiyen (NR)

In which Crowley moves back into his flat, Aziraphale has problems at work, and the Second Coming of Christ is but a stone's throw away. In the end, Crowley makes it to rolling green hills, leant against a stubbornly yellow Bentley. He remembers the first morning. He had slithered out of the ground not long before dawn, the dirt damp even before the first rain, the grass cool and crisp against his scales. And the sun had risen, jewels spilling across the great blue sky, warm and golden from the East. Crowley – Crawly, then – had wanted to follow it, had felt a great pull Eastwards. He went, too, until he found the ripe red fruit nestled amongst the lush green leaves and knew what they were for. It was luck, then, that the humans had left in the direction of the sunrise. Luck, or– ineffable. The sun rises over the South Downs, and Crowley finally wants to stay.

The Ineffable Shades of Gray (Good Omens Season 3) by altsernative (T)

After returning to Heaven, Aziraphale learns the Metatron's true intentions, finds himself disillusioned, and regrets his choice to leave Crowley, who has been working in the Temptations department. They reunite, and find themselves stopping the final war between Heaven and Hell and learning God and Satan's true intentions for the world and each other.

Demons are Forever by in_a_pickle (T)

After finallly finding the courage to tell his best friend his feelings, Crowley's dreams are shattered when Aziraphale once again chooses Heaven over happiness together. With ‘Great Plans’ afoot upstairs, Aziraphale discovers that the starring role he accepted comes with some unforeseen duties and that Crowley’s kiss has become something of a distraction. Crowley meanwhile is trying to come to terms with a broken heart and is trying to fathom why Heaven is so keen to have Aziraphale back in the fold. A mini adventure with our favourite group of two, written in case I get hit by a bus and never get to find out what happened next.

The Intended Effect by Esme_Abner (E)

A post-S2 fic that begins with a very sad Crowley and a conflicted Aziraphale and a surprisingly not-awful Jesus. It's all building toward our boys reconciling, because like everyone else, my heart is broken and I need to pick up the pieces somehow. And they might try to like save the world again, too.

(I just can't wait for) Season 3 Good Omens! by RCReveal (T)

After Season 2, I really needed to find out how Aziraphale and Crowley could get their reunion: a real reunion & not 'pretendy real'. They both have so much growing to do with neither of them, yet, being able to even say 'I love you' clearly to each other. Angel, what's going on? What kind of doublethink are you doing to still think that Heaven is the Good side & that you can't even admit to being friends? But you'll do anything to protect the World. Crowley, always planning on running. Sorry, but that won't work. If you had run at Armageddon there'd be no here to be in. But somehow, still a little seed of optimism. And wow! what you two can do together! Especially with a little help from old and new friends. So here's a story about averting the Second Coming with that great ensemble cast of characters in Heaven, Hell, and Whickber ST. Long set up, but then starts to speed up, kinda a wild ride from chapter 42 onto the end. This story is at about the same level of cursing, violence (well, maybe a little more Gaiman-esque), humor (definitely much more Terry Pratchett-esque) and romance as that of the second season.

There's a Special Place on Earth for Beings Like You by Kipje (T)

Set two years after Aziraphale leaves to become Supreme Archangel. It’s the Second Coming. Aziraphale is tasked with finding parents for the new Christ and returns to earth. He needs Crowley’s help, but the two haven’t spoken since the break-up. Crowley doesn’t want to forgive the angel, nor does he want to help out with the baby, but he finds it incredibly hard not to get involved. OR Aziraphale and Crowley raise the new Christ together; a girl named Eden. While they try to sort out their feelings and avert the apocalypse. Excerpt: Crowley had always assumed Aziraphale would want to run away with him in order to be together. He had never bothered to ask if there was a version where they would be an ‘us’ on earth. What was Aziraphale supposed to do once they arrived in the Alpha Centauri system. How would that even work with his book collection? Sure, Aziraphale had fallen in love with the demon – and it had taken him a while to be able to admit that – but he had also fallen in love with humanity, with earth. He had never planned on leaving. He knew earth would be no fun without his favourite wily serpent, but that did not mean he would be fine anywhere as long as Crowley was there. He had standards.

- Mod D

[meanwhile-at-crowleys-flat]

Today Crowley got his email invite for AO3 and was pleasantly surprised no one else had GoldenEyes007.

[bakerstreethound]

Angel's Tea Under a Demon's Wing

Relationship: Aziraphale x reader x Crowley (Ineffable husbands x reader)

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, hurt, comfort, soft Aziraphale, grumpy Crowley, domestic partners, deluge of rain, job insecurity, financial stress, and a brief mention of loss & death

Summary: Time is running out for you to find a job so you can stay afloat in your small London flat. In one last desperate attempt, you swallow your pride and hand out your resume around town, praying for a miracle. As luck would have it, Aziraphale is intrigued by you and offers a proposition, despite Crowley's protests.

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT claim, repost, copy or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)

Word Count: 2.0k+

A/N: Cheerio my lovelies! I come bearing a gift for you all. I hope you enjoy some more ineffable husbands and . I adore them so and we could all use some comfort after season 2. Special thanks also to @novaracer for beta reading. Comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated! Graphic by @firefly-graphics

Time had a cruel sense of humor, and it didn’t differ on any day like today, the skies trickling with rain, warning London of an impending storm. Yet, it didn’t tear you from your conquest in searching for a job.

You were sure to have found one by now, yet with the current economy, you weren’t sure how you were going to make it with the diner job you had, letting your other skills and talents be pushed aside. You couldn’t afford to do so much longer, for you ached to be out of your apartment finding purpose other than in the books you plowed through. 

You adored your quiet life, but something inside you wanted more and knew you could strive for it. 

That is how you found yourself with a stack of resumes in hand, sliding them into the mailboxes of local businesses, praying for a miracle you would get a response. Soon enough you dip into the coffee shop across the way from the last stop you made at a quaint bookstore that was oddly still in business.

You hadn’t mustered up the courage to peruse through the piles of books even though Maggie at the record shop insisted that her landlord and the owner of the bookshop, Mr. Fell, was sweet and meant no harm. Either way, you’d been too busy at the diner until now to consider applying for a job there. You hoped something would come around, but only a miracle could make it happen. 

******

Meanwhile, Aziraphale began his morning as usual with some hot chocolate and making a record of miracles in the like when Crowley stomped in, huffing while clenching a wrinkled piece of paper. 

“Awe come on, angel. Why are you doing this?” Crowley groaned.

 Aziraphale swiped the wrinkled paper from Crowley’s grasp. “It’s only hospitable to offer the poor dear a job. I mean, look at their credentials!” he exclaimed as he excitedly flipped through another page as if he were reading a great myth instead of a resume. 

“What’s the point? You practically have me to do all the work here for you,” Crowley mumbled, downing the rest of his wine. He stretched out on the couch again, his long lean legs draped over the arm, adding an extra bit of drama to any bit of furniture. The demon could not sit on anything properly to save his life. 

Aziraphale sighed and bit his lip, eyes twinkling with mischief. “If you consider your work laying around here drinking, yes you do a fine job at that.” Crowley lifted his head, mock rage plastered over his face. “Better watch that tongue of yours angel, You know I love it so.” 

“Well, then better make yourself useful and dust the books and tidy up your plants. We should expect a visitor within the hour.” Azi smiled warmly at his partner, giddiness filling his chest when Crowley pecked him on the cheek. 

“I’ll get right on it, angel.” 

******

You huffed, drowning down your third, or was it fifth? cup of coffee. You weren’t sure why you felt this way, the stress in your shoulders building the more you typed, your brain filling with words faster than you could write or type them down.  You’d been at Nina’s shop for an hour, most of it spent scrolling through job listings, though your search also included browsing some bookstores and a new computer you have been eyeballing for months.

Alas not much had come from your ventures, but you have to admit it was a good day to get out of the flat and enjoy the fresh air and the coziness of somewhere else other than your pit of despair. You could only stay inside with yourself and your mind for so long. 

Regardless, you enjoyed the quiet chatter, the drip of the machine keeping in time with your typing, and then a ping sounds from your phone. Your heart races, could this be it? 

“Hello?” A soft angelic voice inquires from the other end. “I was calling about your interest in a job. You see I’m Aziraphale, Mr. Fell as most call me, I own the bookshop across from Nina’s coffee shop. The…Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death that one, it’s hard to miss.  Would you be interested?” 

Would I be interested? Hell yes, you would after months of finding nothing that’d pay anything for manual labor you wouldn’t imagine anything better than sorting books all day. 

“Mr. Fell, that would be lovely. When do you want me to start?” You thrum your fingers on the table, not believing your luck. 

“Are you available now? I have cocoa biscuits and tea!” 

“I don’t think I’m in any position to refuse your offer, Mr. Fell.” 

“Lovely, it’s settled then. I’ll see you within the hour, yes?” His voice is warm, reminding you of an old friend and holding hands with a friend by the lake. It made you happier than you’d been in a while and when you set your phone back on the table, glancing at the bright light streaming in through the window despite the darkening clouds of the horizon, you know you won’t refuse this job; it’s almost too good to be true. 

******

“Oh boy, that doesn’t look good,” Crowley mutters, shoving piles of books into the shelves, trying to make the shop more presentable, as Azira put it. The sky outside darkened an alarming shade of gray and Crowley could practically hear the impending storm cackling in warning. 

Aziraphale sighs, taking off his spectacles and rubbing his eyes. “Well, if worse comes to worst, we can stay in for the night and forgo the Ritz.” 

“You? Forgo the meal at the Ritz? The world must truly be ending!” Crowley exclaims, throwing himself back on the couch right as the first clap of thunder came down, the notable pitter-patter of rainfall following in its wake. 

Not a moment later, the doorbell rings, and there you are, a jacket plastered along your form, hair damp and you sneeze. “Hi, I’m here to see Mr. Fell.” 

******

“Gracious come in come in, Oh do sit down, let me take that for you!” The smaller man, Aziraphale you note, bustles around, offering you an armchair, which you sit in, groaning at the warmth. The deluge came out of nowhere, soaking you to the bone during the albeit dort walk along the street, but you ended up getting distracted at Maggie’s record shop, losing track of time as fate would have it you ended up an utter wreck at the job you’d accepted a meer hour before. 

“I’m so sorry for the state of my appearance, I should’ve brought an umbrella.” 

“The weather is quite unpredictable is it not?” Another person appears from the shadows, encased in black, hair a lovely shade of red that makes you wish you could pull it off as well as them. They reach out their hand to you and you lean forward accepting it. 

“Crowley, a pleasure to meet you. I see Aziraphale ran off before introductions.” He motions for you to stand and you do so, while he drapes his black jacket over you. It’s pleasantly warm, and you’re equally impressed with the black turtleneck and vest combination he’s currently sporting. 

You smile at the gesture. “I’m sure it’s for the tea. There was mention of it on the phone call.” 

“Oh, right, the infamous phone call. It practically made his day, though I insisted that he didn’t need to hire anyone, no don’t take it as a bad thing, necessarily. Nina and Maggie vouched for your character too so now you’re practically part of the block gang.”

“Crowley, are you interrogating our guest?” 

You pull the borrowed jacket closer around you trying not to shiver in a combination of nerves and excitement. The easy banter between the two of them makes you feel at ease and it comforts you how relaxed they are in each other's presence. If all your days could be spent with a gentle, quiet and constant companion by your side, then you couldn’t possibly want for more. 

“I am sorry for inconveniencing you.” you blurt out, Mr. Fell’s gaze meeting yours in quiet understanding. 

“It’s no trouble at all, we’ve not much going on, isn’t that right, Crowley.” 

“Right, whatever he said, that’s right.” the tall lanky figure grumbles, discarding a pile of books on the floor, making you wince at the thump they leave behind. 

That must’ve hurt, you grumble. 

“They’ll be alright” Crowley grumbles. 

Whoops, you had spoken that out loud. You clench your jaw, trying in vain to relax, the nerves flowing through you, making your stomach tie itself in knots despite your mind’s protests. 

“Crowley, I would appreciate it if you didn’t throw my books in that manner,” Mr Fell’s brow quirks, eyes lighting in quiet mirth as he leans over to whisper, “He does that when he’s grouchy.” 

“I assume it happens frequently, then.” 

“Usually when I irk him or someone else, which is at least three times a week or more.” 

Crowley scowls, “It’s not that frequent!” 

You smile at the easy banter between them, the way they brought you into this small sphere of their  world and it makes you feel less alone than you have had in months. You enjoyed this, the glances they tossed back and forth with the ease of old lovers, twin soulmates of the universe ancient in their own right. 

“Well then, I think it’s settled,” Aziraphale faces you, hands clasped, a smile gracing his lips. You burrow further into the jacket Crowley lent you from the deluge, nervous for the outcome. In the next moment, Aziraphale hands you cocoa, finalizing the matter, “I think we’ll get along just fine, my dear.”  

******

Countless hours later you’re sandwiched between them on a plush couch, Aziraphale (he insisted you didn’t have to call him Mr. Fell) with a book on his lap and Crowley with a drink in his hand. You’re halfway listening to the story Aziraphale tells, still delirious and in disbelief that you scored a job and somehow gained two companions you’ve felt you have known ages. The hours passed by quicker than you imagined and you didn’t want to leave. 

Months without a job and companionship have you linger in the doorway and you smile at them fondly, hating to leave but you walk back into the rain in your borrowed coat that fits your form.

You hadn’t remembered it fitting so well before, the universe worked in mysterious ways. But, you found a thread of hope, warmth, love and acceptance and you sure as hell aren’t letting go of it for anything.

Joy fills your heart as you walk out the bookshop door Crowley holds for you and Aziraphale presses a kiss to your hand, wishing you well. You don’t think you’ve been more excited for a job-or anything than you have now. No more moments you would take for granted now that you had them, a life complete and full of laughter and love. 

******

Time was cruel and a fickle thing. Two figures stand on a hill under a tree, leaning into each other, what others wouldn’t see is the phantom hand resting between their palms, one of a lover past, a companion dear to them slipping into another world.

Time could be cruel, but it had given an angel and a demon a mortal companion to care for alongside each other and blessing or cursing time, one thing is for certain, they were grateful for all the moments, no matter how limited, that they got to spend with you. And they had a silly little resume and a fateful deluge of rain to thank for it.

The taller one carefully drapes a long coat around the headstone, the shorter one following suit with a bouquet of flowers. In their arms they find solace, the ghost of you a mere fragment of their millennia of existence but they would live it over and again if only to be with you.

******

[valleydean]

Chapter 15 [Read Here]

CHAMPION Part III of Heavyweight a deancas boxing au by valleydean (emmbrancsxx0) read from the beginning | playlist

SUMMARY: Brooklyn, 1933. Dean Winchester, the number one contender, trains to become the next Heavyweight Champion of the World, and this time he won't let anything get in his way. Title holder Castiel Novak has second thoughts about retiring, especially when someone from his past arrives in New York and asks for his help. Meanwhile, a new contender rises to fame and threatens to complicate both of Dean and Cas' ambitions - and their relationship.

CHAPTER PREVIEW:

Dean and Cas had high-tailed it to the NBA office, where Bobby and Michael were already waiting for them. Gabriel showed up a minute after them, and then Sam, whom Bobby had brought in for “legal advice.” Crowley’s assistant sequestered them all in the conference room. They hadn’t been waiting very long before Crowley walked in, took one look at Dean and Cas, and asked them if they were “really that stupid.”

Since then, Dean had half-heard a lot of yelling and not a lot of solutions through the raging tinnitus in his ears. He repeatedly tried to pipe up, but his vocal cords were paralyzed. All he could do was sit there with his head in his hands. His eyes flashed to Cas, seated beside him. Cas hadn’t said much, either. He’d kept his gaze down and his white-knuckled fists on his lap pretty much since they’d entered the room.

He must have felt Dean’s eyes on him. His gaze swept up, blue and hapless and about as terrified as Dean felt inside his own bones. Dean reached over and put his hand over Cas’ fist, stroked Cas’ wrist with his thumb. Cas exhaled shakily.

“You’re out of your grapefruit if you think I’m puttin’ him on a radio show for this crap!” Bobby yelled, spit flying from under his mustache. His face was red with anger under the rim of his newsboy cap, which meant Dean would probably get his ass handed to him the second they were alone. He just hoped Bobby would tucker himself out screaming at Crowley before that happened.

“Then what do you suggest, Robert?” Crowley retorted from where he was standing at the head of the table, his hands flat on the surface as he leaned into them. His face was an even riper shade of tomato-red than Bobby’s.

“Something that don’t involve more media!”

“It may be inevitable at this point,” Michael pointed out.

Dean’s eyes stayed glued to Cas’. Cas shook his head slightly, his lips a pale, thin line of anxiety. Dean gave his hand a squeeze, trying to reassure him that at least they were in this shitstorm together. He barely noticed Sam’s empathetic expression as his gaze flickered down to Dean and Cas’ conjoined hands.

“Oh, come on,” Bobby argued. “You want this in every legitimate newspaper across the nation? We don’t have to issue a public denial every time one of them stubs a toe!”

“You call this a stubbed toe?” Gabriel said, snatching one of the magazines from the pile and holding it up to Bobby.

Crowley’s team had bought up all the magazine copies they could find, but it was too late. Too much of the public had already gotten their hands on it. And that was only in New York.

“I call it a story that’ll blow over by Sunday if we don’t feed it,” Bobby answered.

“This wouldn’t have happened at all if you kept Winchester in line,” Gabriel said, pointing a finger at Bobby. Dean winced slightly, because Bobby didn’t deserve that. This was all Dean’s fault.

“You wanna talk about which one of us is bad at our jobs?” Bobby said, steam practically coming out of his ears. “You’re the one who was supposed to kill the story.”

“I did!”

“Apparently all you did was stun it.”

“Hey!” Sam shouted, interrupting before there was any bloodshed. “Fighting isn’t getting us anywhere.”

His eyes flashed warily toward Dean and Cas. He breathed out heavily and ran his hand through his hair. “The story’s out. We need to talk about a solution, not—not point fingers at each other.”

“Now I see why people call you the smarter one. Although it isn’t hard to come out on top with this lot,” Crowley commented, earning himself a scowl from Sam. “I couldn’t agree more. We need to find out who exactly is to blame for leaking this story.”

“I think that’s fairly obvious,” Michael said. “It had to have been my brother and Mr. Webb.”

Dean gnashed his teeth at the mention of Lee’s name. A few weeks ago, he would have defended Lee, said he’d never do something like this. But now, he wouldn’t put it past the guy. The only problem was, Dean hadn’t told him what had happened in Kansas City.

“How would he have known to go after that?” he asked.

Cas wrinkled his face in a cross between annoyance and disbelief. “You’re still defending him?”

“Hell no,” Dean answered quickly. “I’m just saying, he didn’t know what happened.”

Sam said, “Yeah, but Dean, it’s not like he didn’t know about you two. Luc, too. They could have—I dunno—put some feelers out to see what kinda dirt they could dig up.”

“Exactly,” Michael agreed. “They had the means, and the motive. The timing of this is too coincidental. We just announced Webb would fight Castiel next month. If I know Luc, he means to discredit Castiel and turn the public against him.”

“Who knows how long they’ve been sitting on this,” Gabriel added ominously. It made Dean sick thinking about what other stories Lee was willing to take to the press. And it made him furious knowing this was the one he’d picked.

Making the world think Dean was some kind of cheater was one thing, but this? Him and Cas? It was just about the lowest thing Dean could think of. Maybe Lee had been hoping Dean would slip up somehow when he’d first given him that cocaine. Dean had let himself get out of control, get sloppy. He’d given Lee the perfect ammunition.

Cas shifted, turning his eyes on Crowley. “You didn’t have anything to do with this, did you?” he asked, tone threatening.

Crowley’s eyebrows shot up like he was offended. “I beg your pardon? Have you lost it? Have you any idea how much money I sunk into that tour of yours so you could remain heavyweight champion?”

“Wait, you’re doing what?” Bobby spat.

Cas looked down again, like a kid being punished. Dean huffed, because now wasn’t really the time. “We’ll talk about it later,” he told Bobby.

“Like hell—”

“We got a little more on our plates right now, Bobby,” Dean said, voice louder. He should have told Bobby about Cas before, but in his defense, Bobby had kicked Dean out of the gym every time he’d tried to go in. And part of Dean was still unconvinced that Cas would go through with it, even after everything.

Luckily, Bobby dropped it with little more than a disgruntled murmur about not trusting anybody with a college education. In response, Michael only tilted his head to the side, unamused.

“The point is,” Crowley cut back in, “I have to protect my assets. That’s you two morons. Particularly Castiel. The priority is to ensure that no damage comes to his reputation—and, in turn, the NBA’s.”

Dean scoffed wetly, affronted. He pulled his hand off of Cas’. “And what? Mine isn’t?”

Crowley cocked his head at a sharp angle. “Do I have to teach you arithmetic, you ape? This problem involves both of you. Meaning, the solution will benefit both of you.”

That wasn’t totally true. Dean had still been accused of throwing his last fight. But Crowley wouldn’t lift a finger to help there, seeing as he’d been the mastermind behind it. None of this was for Dean. It was to make sure Cas stayed at the top.

Dean drummed his thumb on the table and glared back at Crowley.

“I still say we need to put out a statement,” Gabriel said.