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I will probably collapse soon, but until then, I saw no reason not to keep going ...
Title: Temptation
Rating: PG-13
Fandoms: Good Omens, Supernatural
Continuity: Direct sequel to Footsoldiers
Characters/Pairings: Sam, Dean, Cas, Crowley, Aziraphale, surprise guest. Crowley/Aziraphale (so very much), Dean/Cas
Summary: A little relaxation after their fight with Zach. Crowley's always been very good at temptation-via-foodstuffs
Wordcount: 3049
Disclaimer: Even if I did own, I probably wouldn't be allowed to do this
A/N: Spoilers for season five of SPN. And a warning for angels making indecent noises in company
Anyway. It was a nice place, wide and old-world and spacious, with both supernatural and technological security up to the eyeballs, a 60" plasma TV, a roaring fire in the grate, and couches so decadently deep that for a moment Sam thought they were possessed and trying to eat people. Angels, to be precise, since Dean almost lost Cas lowering him into one, and Sam and Crowley had to fight for Aziraphale with the other. They won. But only just.
"Dude, where did you get these?" Dean asked, sinking down next to Cas with a heartfelt moan. After a day's worth of getting tossed around by Zach & co, he looked like his spine was trying to permanently fuse itself into the upholstery. Sam smirked at him a bit, but then his own ass hit the cushions beside Aziraphale, and he had to stifle a throaty moan of his own. Dean grinned at him smugly until Sam flipped him the bird, and wriggled happily to settle in.
"Oh, you know, here and there," the demon murmured, watching them with a suspiciously self-satisfied expression. Sam flipped him the bird too, for good measure, and tried not to flush when the demon just snickered.
"They are ... very comfortable," Cas observed from across the coffee table, sounding very surprised about it. Sam frowned at that, until he remembered that most of the time Cas had spent on Earth had been with them, and Winchesters weren't really conducive to showing angels the good things in life. It was possible Castiel thought that tired old motel beds and the back seat of the Impala were the extent of earthly comfort, and that ... that was just sad. That was pretty damn pathetic, when you looked at it.
Crowley, apparently, agreed, looking at Cas with something worryingly close to pity, and something else worryingly close to anticipation. The demon licked his lips gently. "Yes, they are," he murmured, tilting his head to smile at Castiel. "You should spend some time with them, then. Or the beds upstairs, either. You haven't lived until you've slept in a demon's bed, you know."
Castiel blinked, swallowing at the purr in Crowley's voice, looking like a bird trying to stare down a snake. "I ... I don't sleep," the angel squeaked, and Crowley's grin widened to positively indecent proportions.
"Really?" he purred. "Oh, well then ..."
"No!" Dean cut in, glaring furiously at Crowley while one arm wrapped itself protectively around Cas' shoulders, and the other pointed warningly in the demon's direction. "You stop that! No tempting the angels!" He paused, looking over at where Aziraphale was still serenely dozing, and frowned a bit. "Well. Our angel, anyway."
Crowley rolled his eyes, but backed off. "Oh, alright then. Spoilsport." Then he looked over at Aziraphale, and brightened, almost bouncing on his heels. "Though, while we're on the subject ..." He smiled a truly evil smile, and winked at them. "Allow me to show you boys some real temptation!"
Sam stared at him in trepidation, glancing over to share a worried look with Cas and his brother. Castiel was frowning, looking perfectly ready to leap to his unconscious brother's defense, and Sam got that, he really did, but, well ... Aziraphale had just wiped the floor with a bunch of angels, and him and Crowley had obviously been knocking around together for quite a while, and Sam knew he hadn't mistaken the protective flare in Crowley's eyes when Zach's goons had gone for his angel ... and yeah, after Ruby he should really, really know better than to be thinking of trusting a demon, but he just didn't think he was wrong about Crowley. Not when it came to Aziraphale, anyway.
But there was one way to be sure ...
"Yeah?" he asked, softly, letting a little bit of dare slip in, like he was about to open offensives in a prank war with Dean. His brother turned to look at him, surprise and then comprehension flickering over him quick as anything, and then settling into childish amusement. Oh yeah. Dean was onboard. "And how are you going to do that?" he asked, turning back to the demon, seeing Crowley eye him with outright suspicion.
"Oh, I think you'll find I'm pretty good at temptation, boys," the demon murmured, but it wasn't a boast. He was too busy trying to figure out their game to boast.
"I don't believe you," Dean grinned, bright and challenging. "Dude, the angel just took Zach to the cleaners. I highly doubt he's going to fall for anything you can throw at him." And that wasn't true, because they knew, they knew better than anyone, that being able to fight wasn't going to stop you falling for a trick from someone you thought was a friend. They knew that.
Crowley stared at them, head tracking from one face to the other, golden eyes narrowing in confusion and suspicion, taking in Sam's determined challenge, Dean's faked cheer, Castiel's genuine confusion, and then ... then the demon's eyes went flat and narrow, hard as chipped agate, and Crowley was across the room and holding Sam up by his lapels in two seconds flat. Dean was already moving, already coming at them, but Crowley's deadly hiss stopped him in his tracks.
"I sssssincerely hope you are tesssting me," the demon hissed, low and furious, eyes burning right into Sam's from all of two inches away. "Because if you've decided to test him, after everything he's done for you, after he took on the bloody Hosssst ... He hasn't picked up a ssssword in years, you ignorant child! He hasn't had to fight like that in centuries, and he did that for you, and if you're going to turn around and thank him by sitting back and watching a demon tempt him just to see if he fallssss, if you're going to be like those fucking asssssholess who had the fucking gall to judge him after the Crusadesss and all they did to him ..." He stopped, pulled in a hissing breath, face twisting in something between pain and fury, before stilling with forced calm. "If that'sss what you want, boys," he finished, cooly. "Then you are more than welcome to take the highway right outta here right the fuck now, because he doesn't need to hear that shit again. Ever. You understand me?"
And Sam hit the couch again, dropped like Crowley couldn't stand to touch him any more, and he could see Dean and Cas standing behind the demon, looking shocked and, in Cas' case, more than a little pained. Crowley breathed heavily, face still flushed and furious, eyes so viciously golden and serpentine that they were almost copper, and then the demon took a step back, his hands shaking as he straightened his rumpled suit, adjusting his cuffs.
"Well?" he asked, crisp and coldly pointed. Sam and Dean looked at each other, shaken and ashamed and oddly reassured, and then to Cas, who's watching them with narrow eyes as he obviously caught on with what they've done, and then Sam nodded.
"Sorry," he said, since he started it. Crowley stared at him. "Look ... the last time any of us trusted a demon ..." He stopped, still unable to think of that without it hurting, unable to think of it without feeling the shame. "She betrayed us, okay? She pretended to be my friend, and then she ... she pointed me right at Lilith and set me up. And Aziraphale ..." He looked up, met Crowley's eyes, wanting him to understand. "We know what he did for us. Him and Cas ... they're the only decent angels going, and we just wanted to make sure ..." Crowley stopped him, held up a hand and rolled his eyes, but the fury had leeched out of him, and when he looked between them this time there's only exasperation, and maybe something a little like pride.
"Firstly," the demon said, pointing an indignant finger at Sam. "I am nothing like Ruby, alright? I have more class in my fingernail than that skank had in her entire body. Honestly." He sniffed in genuine offense, and Sam found himself fighting a little grin. "And secondly. Me and the angel ... we've been stuck down here with no-one but each other for six thousand years. If I was going to betray him, I would have done it centuries ago, and besides. He's the only angel on this or any other plane with decent taste in restaurants. He's the last person I'd send below."
There was a ringing silence for a minute, then Dean shook his head with a sigh, and flopped back onto his couch. "You really are head over heels for him, aren't you?" he smirked, which Sam thought was possibly not the brightest idea he'd ever had, considering, but all Crowley did was raise an eyebrow at him, before taking a long, deliberate and very, very pointed look at Castiel, and then back at Dean. Dean looked away with a flush and a muttered "Screw you", Crowley grinned at him, and just like that the last of the tension drained out of the room.
"You boys are hopeless," Crowley noted, watching Cas sit gingerly back down next to Dean. "Really hopeless. You know that, right?"
"Hey man, we're not the ones making eyes at unconscious angels," Dean shot back, and Crowley blinked like he'd forgotten something, and snapped his fingers. Sam stared at him.
"Right!" the demon muttered, turning around to crouch beside Aziraphale. "All that, I'd forgotten he needed ... give me a second ..." And there was a second snap of his fingers, which reminded Sam all too uncomfortably of the Trickster, and then Crowley was holding ...
"A cup of tea?" he spluttered, staring at the delicate china and steaming liquid in the demon's hand. Crowley smirked.
"To be precise, two teabags, a metric tonne of sugar, a drop of milk and just a whiff of single malt," he grinned, reaching out to waft the scent under Aziraphale's nose. "I know, I know, but believe me. There is nothing on this Earth better for reviving battered angels ..." He trailed off as Aziraphale twitched, watching with a faint smile as one soft hand reached up to latch on to his wrist with all the bruising force of angels, and two dazed blue eyes opened to drink in the sight of the cup balanced precariously under his nose.
"Oh, my dear," the angel breathed, and promptly inhaled the cup, spluttering a bit but obviously determined. He drained it to the dregs in one long gulp, then slumped back with a happy sigh.
Crowley snorted, and refilled it with a wave, grinning as Aziraphale managed to prop himself mostly upright and stare around in bewilderment. He took in Sam, sitting beside him with his jaw on the floor, Dean across the way looking like a duck just up and talked to him, and Castiel staring in outright fascination. Then back to the demon crouched in front of him, and the second cup cradled invitingly in his hand.
"Crowley, dearest," he smiled, reaching out to rest his hand over the demon's around the china. "You're too good to me."
"Oh, don't I know it," Crowley grinned, shooting a sly look at Sam, but there's too much genuine happiness in the demon's eyes for Sam to take offense. Yes, right, he got it, thank you. No angels were harmed in the making of this Arrangement. Fine. "Want a little more whiskey with this one, angel?"
Aziraphale frowned a bit, but his hand was still wrapped around the cup. Clenched, maybe, was a better word. "I shouldn't ..." he murmured, wavering, and Crowley smirked. "Oh, fine then. Consider this your temptation for the evening, you demon you, and give me my tea!"
Sam heard himself make a little noise of shock, and Aziraphale turned to him, raising a polite eyebrow. On the other couch, Dean choked back a laugh.
Crowley, on the other hand, didn't bother, laughing outright. "Oh, angel," he grinned, waving a hand and settling the cup into his angel's gently. "Angel, this isn't even close to temptation, and you know it." A long, slow grin at Sam, and there's something else in Crowley's hand. A white, greaseproof paper bag, something seeping through it just a little in one corner, and suddenly every last drop of Aziraphale's attention is riveted on him. Him and that bag. "This," said the demon, wickedly. "This is temptation. Right, Aziraphale?"
The angel made a little noise that on anyone else would be called indecent. Since it was him, an angel, it was more ... alright, no, it was still pretty indecent. "Is that ...?" he breathed, and Crowley smirked, reaching in with one careful hand to slide something out of the bag.
"This? Nothing. Just some soft, light pastry..." he pulled the bun out into view, "... a healthy lake or two of rich, thick cream," held it up for display, waving it just a little in front of his angel's face, "... and just a little ... strawberry ... jam ..." He stopped, smirking as Aziraphale watched it hungrily, all but drooling. "Just a cream bun, angel. Just a little genuine, honest-to-Manchester temptation." He smiled, and held it out. "All for you."
"Oh, you ... you demon," Aziraphale breathed, pudgy hands clenching into trembling fists, teacup creaking alarmingly as he desperately held himself back. "Crowley, you wicked ... you bastard ..."
And Crowley grinned a little, very gently, and reached out to catch his hand and hold it, one thumb stroking softly. "I know, angel. I know. But you ..." His head tilted, something flickering in golden eyes, deep and dark and lost, and he stopped, breathed, before starting again. "I almost lost you today, angel," he whispered, quietly. "Indulge me?"
Aziraphale stared at him, angry eyes going soft and round, and he wasn't alone. Sam was staring, too, and Dean, something thick and twisted and understanding in his brother's eyes as he watched the demon's back, as he watched a wicked man reach out to an angel, and Castiel, beside him, was frowning softly as he saw it.
Aziraphale sighed, reaching out to touch Crowley's cheek gently, and took the bun. "Just because it's you," he said, prissily, but there's something deep and warm in his eyes, something impossibly gentle. Then he smiled, a quick flicker of almost-mischief, and turned back to his pastry.
And proceeded with every apparent enjoyment to turn the eating of a cream bun into something pornographic.
Crowley looked shocked for all of two seconds, before the angel licked a glob of cream off his thumb, and the demon shivered helplessly, his eyes slipping to half-mast and his hands clenching on Aziraphale's knees. Dean's jaw dropped open. Sam's jaw dropped open. Castiel ... Cas looked like he'd been hit upside the head with a freaking two-by-four, eyes going impossibly wide and stunned. Sam had a brief moment of sympathy for him, because, really, that's not something ... that's not something you want to see your brother ... oh wow, was that a moan? His eyes flickered to Aziraphale's face, and he saw a pink, angelic tongue licking happily at something red and glistening.
The angel had found the strawberry jam, it seemed. And Crowley, making a guttural sound low in his throat, had apparently found heaven.
"Dude," Dean breathed, looking like he wanted so much to be able to look away right now, but unable to in sheer, mortified fascination. "Dude, that's just ..." His eyes flickered over to Cas for a second, obviously, given Dean's straight-to-porn brain, wondering how his angel would look doing that, and suddenly Sam had a wicked, a positively evil idea. Crowley, who obviously had some sort of temptation-radar going, came out of his lustful daze enough to flash him a wide, appreciative look, and smirk.
Suddenly, there were three cream buns sitting on the coffee table, and Dean started, jumping in his seat, and there, right there ... the deer-in-the-headlights look. Castiel looked from them to Dean and back again, something like terror in his eyes, and something, if Sam wasn't mistaken (and he wasn't) that looked a lot like desire.
And really, could they blame him for helping his hopeless brother out? He picked up the biggest of the pastries, and handed it over to Cas. The angel stared at him, holding it like it was about to bite him, and blinked.
"Go on, Cas," Sam grinned, ignoring the desperate waving from Dean. "This stuff is obviously good for angels, and I'm sure Aziraphale wouldn't eat it if it was really bad."
Aziraphale took that opportunity to make another very indecent sound, and Crowley very audibly gulped. Cas almost dropped the bun in terror. He looked over at them, at Aziraphale's flushed, happy face, then down at the bun, and then ... Then he looked over at Dean, all confusion and fear and hope, and Sam swore, if his brother didn't get his head out of his ass just this one time ...
And then, thank God, Dean pulled his shit together, met Cas' eyes, and reached out to guide the hand holding the pastry to Cas' mouth. The angel blinked, worried, confused, and then ...
Turned out? No-one made porno noises like an angel recently introduced to cream. No-one.
Sam had all of two minutes to enjoy it, to enjoy the suddenly blissed-out expression on Castiel's face, to enjoy the way his brother all but melted into horny goo at his angel's feet, to enjoy the way Aziraphale seemed to be beaming at them, and Crowley, around his own little slice of heaven, to enjoy the way the demon himself seemed to be torn somewhere between wicked pride and embarrassment. He had almost two minutes to enjoy that little breath of happiness and sheer contentment in their lives.
Then the lights went out for a second, and when they came back on, someone very familiar was standing in the middle of the room, making little happy noises and reaching out to snag one of the buns.
"Hey!" Gabriel grinned. "Who broke out the pastry without inviting me?"
There were times when Sam really, really hated his life.
Contd: Challenging Archangels
Title: Temptation
Rating: PG-13
Fandoms: Good Omens, Supernatural
Continuity: Direct sequel to Footsoldiers
Characters/Pairings: Sam, Dean, Cas, Crowley, Aziraphale, surprise guest. Crowley/Aziraphale (so very much), Dean/Cas
Summary: A little relaxation after their fight with Zach. Crowley's always been very good at temptation-via-foodstuffs
Wordcount: 3049
Disclaimer: Even if I did own, I probably wouldn't be allowed to do this
A/N: Spoilers for season five of SPN. And a warning for angels making indecent noises in company
Temptation
They ended up at Crowley's place. Well. One of Crowley's places, anyway. Turns out, one of the benefits of being a demon? Really bitching deals in the real estate business. Or possibly that was just a benefit of being Crowley.Anyway. It was a nice place, wide and old-world and spacious, with both supernatural and technological security up to the eyeballs, a 60" plasma TV, a roaring fire in the grate, and couches so decadently deep that for a moment Sam thought they were possessed and trying to eat people. Angels, to be precise, since Dean almost lost Cas lowering him into one, and Sam and Crowley had to fight for Aziraphale with the other. They won. But only just.
"Dude, where did you get these?" Dean asked, sinking down next to Cas with a heartfelt moan. After a day's worth of getting tossed around by Zach & co, he looked like his spine was trying to permanently fuse itself into the upholstery. Sam smirked at him a bit, but then his own ass hit the cushions beside Aziraphale, and he had to stifle a throaty moan of his own. Dean grinned at him smugly until Sam flipped him the bird, and wriggled happily to settle in.
"Oh, you know, here and there," the demon murmured, watching them with a suspiciously self-satisfied expression. Sam flipped him the bird too, for good measure, and tried not to flush when the demon just snickered.
"They are ... very comfortable," Cas observed from across the coffee table, sounding very surprised about it. Sam frowned at that, until he remembered that most of the time Cas had spent on Earth had been with them, and Winchesters weren't really conducive to showing angels the good things in life. It was possible Castiel thought that tired old motel beds and the back seat of the Impala were the extent of earthly comfort, and that ... that was just sad. That was pretty damn pathetic, when you looked at it.
Crowley, apparently, agreed, looking at Cas with something worryingly close to pity, and something else worryingly close to anticipation. The demon licked his lips gently. "Yes, they are," he murmured, tilting his head to smile at Castiel. "You should spend some time with them, then. Or the beds upstairs, either. You haven't lived until you've slept in a demon's bed, you know."
Castiel blinked, swallowing at the purr in Crowley's voice, looking like a bird trying to stare down a snake. "I ... I don't sleep," the angel squeaked, and Crowley's grin widened to positively indecent proportions.
"Really?" he purred. "Oh, well then ..."
"No!" Dean cut in, glaring furiously at Crowley while one arm wrapped itself protectively around Cas' shoulders, and the other pointed warningly in the demon's direction. "You stop that! No tempting the angels!" He paused, looking over at where Aziraphale was still serenely dozing, and frowned a bit. "Well. Our angel, anyway."
Crowley rolled his eyes, but backed off. "Oh, alright then. Spoilsport." Then he looked over at Aziraphale, and brightened, almost bouncing on his heels. "Though, while we're on the subject ..." He smiled a truly evil smile, and winked at them. "Allow me to show you boys some real temptation!"
Sam stared at him in trepidation, glancing over to share a worried look with Cas and his brother. Castiel was frowning, looking perfectly ready to leap to his unconscious brother's defense, and Sam got that, he really did, but, well ... Aziraphale had just wiped the floor with a bunch of angels, and him and Crowley had obviously been knocking around together for quite a while, and Sam knew he hadn't mistaken the protective flare in Crowley's eyes when Zach's goons had gone for his angel ... and yeah, after Ruby he should really, really know better than to be thinking of trusting a demon, but he just didn't think he was wrong about Crowley. Not when it came to Aziraphale, anyway.
But there was one way to be sure ...
"Yeah?" he asked, softly, letting a little bit of dare slip in, like he was about to open offensives in a prank war with Dean. His brother turned to look at him, surprise and then comprehension flickering over him quick as anything, and then settling into childish amusement. Oh yeah. Dean was onboard. "And how are you going to do that?" he asked, turning back to the demon, seeing Crowley eye him with outright suspicion.
"Oh, I think you'll find I'm pretty good at temptation, boys," the demon murmured, but it wasn't a boast. He was too busy trying to figure out their game to boast.
"I don't believe you," Dean grinned, bright and challenging. "Dude, the angel just took Zach to the cleaners. I highly doubt he's going to fall for anything you can throw at him." And that wasn't true, because they knew, they knew better than anyone, that being able to fight wasn't going to stop you falling for a trick from someone you thought was a friend. They knew that.
Crowley stared at them, head tracking from one face to the other, golden eyes narrowing in confusion and suspicion, taking in Sam's determined challenge, Dean's faked cheer, Castiel's genuine confusion, and then ... then the demon's eyes went flat and narrow, hard as chipped agate, and Crowley was across the room and holding Sam up by his lapels in two seconds flat. Dean was already moving, already coming at them, but Crowley's deadly hiss stopped him in his tracks.
"I sssssincerely hope you are tesssting me," the demon hissed, low and furious, eyes burning right into Sam's from all of two inches away. "Because if you've decided to test him, after everything he's done for you, after he took on the bloody Hosssst ... He hasn't picked up a ssssword in years, you ignorant child! He hasn't had to fight like that in centuries, and he did that for you, and if you're going to turn around and thank him by sitting back and watching a demon tempt him just to see if he fallssss, if you're going to be like those fucking asssssholess who had the fucking gall to judge him after the Crusadesss and all they did to him ..." He stopped, pulled in a hissing breath, face twisting in something between pain and fury, before stilling with forced calm. "If that'sss what you want, boys," he finished, cooly. "Then you are more than welcome to take the highway right outta here right the fuck now, because he doesn't need to hear that shit again. Ever. You understand me?"
And Sam hit the couch again, dropped like Crowley couldn't stand to touch him any more, and he could see Dean and Cas standing behind the demon, looking shocked and, in Cas' case, more than a little pained. Crowley breathed heavily, face still flushed and furious, eyes so viciously golden and serpentine that they were almost copper, and then the demon took a step back, his hands shaking as he straightened his rumpled suit, adjusting his cuffs.
"Well?" he asked, crisp and coldly pointed. Sam and Dean looked at each other, shaken and ashamed and oddly reassured, and then to Cas, who's watching them with narrow eyes as he obviously caught on with what they've done, and then Sam nodded.
"Sorry," he said, since he started it. Crowley stared at him. "Look ... the last time any of us trusted a demon ..." He stopped, still unable to think of that without it hurting, unable to think of it without feeling the shame. "She betrayed us, okay? She pretended to be my friend, and then she ... she pointed me right at Lilith and set me up. And Aziraphale ..." He looked up, met Crowley's eyes, wanting him to understand. "We know what he did for us. Him and Cas ... they're the only decent angels going, and we just wanted to make sure ..." Crowley stopped him, held up a hand and rolled his eyes, but the fury had leeched out of him, and when he looked between them this time there's only exasperation, and maybe something a little like pride.
"Firstly," the demon said, pointing an indignant finger at Sam. "I am nothing like Ruby, alright? I have more class in my fingernail than that skank had in her entire body. Honestly." He sniffed in genuine offense, and Sam found himself fighting a little grin. "And secondly. Me and the angel ... we've been stuck down here with no-one but each other for six thousand years. If I was going to betray him, I would have done it centuries ago, and besides. He's the only angel on this or any other plane with decent taste in restaurants. He's the last person I'd send below."
There was a ringing silence for a minute, then Dean shook his head with a sigh, and flopped back onto his couch. "You really are head over heels for him, aren't you?" he smirked, which Sam thought was possibly not the brightest idea he'd ever had, considering, but all Crowley did was raise an eyebrow at him, before taking a long, deliberate and very, very pointed look at Castiel, and then back at Dean. Dean looked away with a flush and a muttered "Screw you", Crowley grinned at him, and just like that the last of the tension drained out of the room.
"You boys are hopeless," Crowley noted, watching Cas sit gingerly back down next to Dean. "Really hopeless. You know that, right?"
"Hey man, we're not the ones making eyes at unconscious angels," Dean shot back, and Crowley blinked like he'd forgotten something, and snapped his fingers. Sam stared at him.
"Right!" the demon muttered, turning around to crouch beside Aziraphale. "All that, I'd forgotten he needed ... give me a second ..." And there was a second snap of his fingers, which reminded Sam all too uncomfortably of the Trickster, and then Crowley was holding ...
"A cup of tea?" he spluttered, staring at the delicate china and steaming liquid in the demon's hand. Crowley smirked.
"To be precise, two teabags, a metric tonne of sugar, a drop of milk and just a whiff of single malt," he grinned, reaching out to waft the scent under Aziraphale's nose. "I know, I know, but believe me. There is nothing on this Earth better for reviving battered angels ..." He trailed off as Aziraphale twitched, watching with a faint smile as one soft hand reached up to latch on to his wrist with all the bruising force of angels, and two dazed blue eyes opened to drink in the sight of the cup balanced precariously under his nose.
"Oh, my dear," the angel breathed, and promptly inhaled the cup, spluttering a bit but obviously determined. He drained it to the dregs in one long gulp, then slumped back with a happy sigh.
Crowley snorted, and refilled it with a wave, grinning as Aziraphale managed to prop himself mostly upright and stare around in bewilderment. He took in Sam, sitting beside him with his jaw on the floor, Dean across the way looking like a duck just up and talked to him, and Castiel staring in outright fascination. Then back to the demon crouched in front of him, and the second cup cradled invitingly in his hand.
"Crowley, dearest," he smiled, reaching out to rest his hand over the demon's around the china. "You're too good to me."
"Oh, don't I know it," Crowley grinned, shooting a sly look at Sam, but there's too much genuine happiness in the demon's eyes for Sam to take offense. Yes, right, he got it, thank you. No angels were harmed in the making of this Arrangement. Fine. "Want a little more whiskey with this one, angel?"
Aziraphale frowned a bit, but his hand was still wrapped around the cup. Clenched, maybe, was a better word. "I shouldn't ..." he murmured, wavering, and Crowley smirked. "Oh, fine then. Consider this your temptation for the evening, you demon you, and give me my tea!"
Sam heard himself make a little noise of shock, and Aziraphale turned to him, raising a polite eyebrow. On the other couch, Dean choked back a laugh.
Crowley, on the other hand, didn't bother, laughing outright. "Oh, angel," he grinned, waving a hand and settling the cup into his angel's gently. "Angel, this isn't even close to temptation, and you know it." A long, slow grin at Sam, and there's something else in Crowley's hand. A white, greaseproof paper bag, something seeping through it just a little in one corner, and suddenly every last drop of Aziraphale's attention is riveted on him. Him and that bag. "This," said the demon, wickedly. "This is temptation. Right, Aziraphale?"
The angel made a little noise that on anyone else would be called indecent. Since it was him, an angel, it was more ... alright, no, it was still pretty indecent. "Is that ...?" he breathed, and Crowley smirked, reaching in with one careful hand to slide something out of the bag.
"This? Nothing. Just some soft, light pastry..." he pulled the bun out into view, "... a healthy lake or two of rich, thick cream," held it up for display, waving it just a little in front of his angel's face, "... and just a little ... strawberry ... jam ..." He stopped, smirking as Aziraphale watched it hungrily, all but drooling. "Just a cream bun, angel. Just a little genuine, honest-to-Manchester temptation." He smiled, and held it out. "All for you."
"Oh, you ... you demon," Aziraphale breathed, pudgy hands clenching into trembling fists, teacup creaking alarmingly as he desperately held himself back. "Crowley, you wicked ... you bastard ..."
And Crowley grinned a little, very gently, and reached out to catch his hand and hold it, one thumb stroking softly. "I know, angel. I know. But you ..." His head tilted, something flickering in golden eyes, deep and dark and lost, and he stopped, breathed, before starting again. "I almost lost you today, angel," he whispered, quietly. "Indulge me?"
Aziraphale stared at him, angry eyes going soft and round, and he wasn't alone. Sam was staring, too, and Dean, something thick and twisted and understanding in his brother's eyes as he watched the demon's back, as he watched a wicked man reach out to an angel, and Castiel, beside him, was frowning softly as he saw it.
Aziraphale sighed, reaching out to touch Crowley's cheek gently, and took the bun. "Just because it's you," he said, prissily, but there's something deep and warm in his eyes, something impossibly gentle. Then he smiled, a quick flicker of almost-mischief, and turned back to his pastry.
And proceeded with every apparent enjoyment to turn the eating of a cream bun into something pornographic.
Crowley looked shocked for all of two seconds, before the angel licked a glob of cream off his thumb, and the demon shivered helplessly, his eyes slipping to half-mast and his hands clenching on Aziraphale's knees. Dean's jaw dropped open. Sam's jaw dropped open. Castiel ... Cas looked like he'd been hit upside the head with a freaking two-by-four, eyes going impossibly wide and stunned. Sam had a brief moment of sympathy for him, because, really, that's not something ... that's not something you want to see your brother ... oh wow, was that a moan? His eyes flickered to Aziraphale's face, and he saw a pink, angelic tongue licking happily at something red and glistening.
The angel had found the strawberry jam, it seemed. And Crowley, making a guttural sound low in his throat, had apparently found heaven.
"Dude," Dean breathed, looking like he wanted so much to be able to look away right now, but unable to in sheer, mortified fascination. "Dude, that's just ..." His eyes flickered over to Cas for a second, obviously, given Dean's straight-to-porn brain, wondering how his angel would look doing that, and suddenly Sam had a wicked, a positively evil idea. Crowley, who obviously had some sort of temptation-radar going, came out of his lustful daze enough to flash him a wide, appreciative look, and smirk.
Suddenly, there were three cream buns sitting on the coffee table, and Dean started, jumping in his seat, and there, right there ... the deer-in-the-headlights look. Castiel looked from them to Dean and back again, something like terror in his eyes, and something, if Sam wasn't mistaken (and he wasn't) that looked a lot like desire.
And really, could they blame him for helping his hopeless brother out? He picked up the biggest of the pastries, and handed it over to Cas. The angel stared at him, holding it like it was about to bite him, and blinked.
"Go on, Cas," Sam grinned, ignoring the desperate waving from Dean. "This stuff is obviously good for angels, and I'm sure Aziraphale wouldn't eat it if it was really bad."
Aziraphale took that opportunity to make another very indecent sound, and Crowley very audibly gulped. Cas almost dropped the bun in terror. He looked over at them, at Aziraphale's flushed, happy face, then down at the bun, and then ... Then he looked over at Dean, all confusion and fear and hope, and Sam swore, if his brother didn't get his head out of his ass just this one time ...
And then, thank God, Dean pulled his shit together, met Cas' eyes, and reached out to guide the hand holding the pastry to Cas' mouth. The angel blinked, worried, confused, and then ...
Turned out? No-one made porno noises like an angel recently introduced to cream. No-one.
Sam had all of two minutes to enjoy it, to enjoy the suddenly blissed-out expression on Castiel's face, to enjoy the way his brother all but melted into horny goo at his angel's feet, to enjoy the way Aziraphale seemed to be beaming at them, and Crowley, around his own little slice of heaven, to enjoy the way the demon himself seemed to be torn somewhere between wicked pride and embarrassment. He had almost two minutes to enjoy that little breath of happiness and sheer contentment in their lives.
Then the lights went out for a second, and when they came back on, someone very familiar was standing in the middle of the room, making little happy noises and reaching out to snag one of the buns.
"Hey!" Gabriel grinned. "Who broke out the pastry without inviting me?"
There were times when Sam really, really hated his life.
Contd: Challenging Archangels
