Ineffably Yours

Dinner with Dad

Hey, thanks for waiting! I'm back, I'll try to update fairly regularly. Hope you enjoy the chapter!

TW: past and present child and adult child emotional and verbal abuse, death threats, parental alcoholism

Jenna bit her lip, looked up from her phone and nervously stared at Crowley's face as though it held the secrets of the universe.

The demon paused in the act of reading a yellowed parchment bearing the vampiric seal, glanced up and raised an eyebrow at her. "What's up?" he asked tentatively.

Jenna opened her mouth once, then closed it. She then opened it again and asked with a perplexed frown, "How old do you present? Just, ballpark?"

Crowley blinked. "Sorry, what was that?"

Jenna sighed heavily. "I'm texting Dad to confirm dinner plans for tomorrow. He just asked how old you are, and I don't know what to tell him."

Crowley's eyebrows flew up, then settled down guiltily. Setting the letter from Hell's nocturnal allies aside and blushing furiously, he cleared his throat and stammered, "Ah, y-yes. Didn't think about that. Um, wha--what did you tell him about me again?"

Jenna scrolled back through her texts. "That you're a wealthy British entrepreneur, huge Queen fan and vintage car enthusiast," she replied, shrugging. "I was gonna add "recreational botanist," or something like that, but he'd take that to mean 'pot head,' so I left it out--"

"Good call," interjected Crowley, terrified eyes staring blankly at his tightly clenched hands.

"--and I figured he wouldn't ask anything else, since he's never shown any interest in my friends or anything," she finished, setting the phone down and placing her tired head in her left hand. "Not to say you're just a friend, but he's only NEEDED to meet friends till now. You know I basically never dated anyone till Josh and they never met--"

"Both really dodged a bullet there," mumbled Crowley grumpily, glaring at Jenna's phone.

Jenna shot Crowley a withering glance. "ANYway," she continued pointedly, "I didn't expect him to care beyond your socioeconomic status, no offense. Apparently, however, he ALSO wants to know how old you are and I have no idea how to answer that."

Crowley thought for a minute, then looked down at his girlfriend. "Well, how old do I look?" he asked, smirking and using a bit of demonic charm to appear even more attractive.

Jenna squinted her eyes, tilted her head slightly and stared at his face thoughtfully before replying, "Um, I dunno--late 30s?"

Crowley's smirk disappeared and he sputtered indignantly. "Late 30s?!" he managed to choke out after a bit. "That's basically 40! You think I look 40?!"

Jenna groaned and buried her exhausted face in her hands. "See, this is why I hate the "How old do I look" game--it never ends well for anyone--"

"Well especially not the wrinkly, middle-aged wanker!" snapped Crowley, then began scrutinizing his reflection in his phone nervously.

Jenna looked up, sighed and shook her head at her demon. "Since when do you care about age, anyway?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Since the 45-year-old father of my 25-year-old girlfriend decided to drop in and ask why an ancient bastard is dating his child!" growled Crowley manically, pulling at his skin and looking at his face from all angles with great dissatisfaction. "Ah fuck this, I'm calling Hell and requesting a younger corporation."

"You think they'll give you one at all, let alone by tomorrow?" Jenna asked conversationally, grinning with amusement. "Why don't you just miracle--"

"Of COURSE!" exclaimed Crowley, jumping up to kiss her and run toward the bathroom. "You're the best love, thanks--"