Supernatural Imagines/Preferences

Love In Disguise~ Crowley

*imagine having to go undercover alongside the Winchesters and Crowley for a case*important authors note at end

I frown as I glance down at myself discreetly. Long red dress that exposes half of my back, tall black heels and so much make up I could put Kim Kardashian to shame. Complimented by diamond earrings I found in one of the bunkers bedrooms and a small diamond necklace. Oh, and a freaking red flower in my hair.

I guess you could say I'm ready to go undercover to a Ball, playing Crowleys fiancé or some shit. It wasn't my idea, but I'm not complaining. The Winchesters need to get some information about a supposedly haunted painting and they need me and Crowley to avert everyone's attention from them to us. How the hell we're going to do that, I have no idea. But he's the King of Hell. I'm sure he'll think of something.

"You look ravishing, my dear" Crowley leans down, whispering in my ear. There's a small smirk on his lips as he gets his arm out, motioning for me to hook my own one around it. Always the gentleman. I roll my eyes at the bizarre action, but go along with it. It's not that I dislike him, it's just that Sam and Dean keep pumping my head full profanities about him. I do happen to quite enjoy the presence of the Scotsman.

"Hands off, Crowley" Dean growls, glaring at the King Of Hell from beside me. Dean himself is wearing one of the suits he usually wears when he goes undercover as an FBI agent. So is Sam. Man, our lives are basically playing dress up half of the time.

"It has to be convincing, squirrel." Crowley smirks at Dean, knowing that he's won this one. They're like actual teenagers. Arguing all the bloody time.

"Okay. When we get in, you two distract as many people from us as you can. For at least five minutes." Sam interrupts Deans and Crowleys silent argument, looking between the two as if they were about to start a fight. Which they might. I mean, c'mon. They used to be 'besties', as Crowley says. Can't they stay out of each others hair for half an hour max?

We walk through the large glass door, entering a rather large hallways made of white marble. There are exotic plants lined up against one of the walls and there's a grand staircase which looks really posh. Hell, this whole house looks really posh.

A man in a uniform greets us. He offers us a glass of what looks to be champagne, but I politely decline and pinch Crowley discreetly as he is about to take the glass. I don't need him drinking right now. I need his mind in focus. What did Troy Bolton say? Gotta get your head in the game. We need to come up with a plan do attract all attention to us. I'm not too happy about it, but it's got to be done.

"What was that for, kitten?" He raises his eyebrows, leading us to the dance room. There's quite a few people here, swaying slowly looking bored out of their minds. The room's rather large, with six floor to roof windows at each side and ceilings that are higher than Snoop Dogg.

Wait. That's it. "Crowley, get the quartet to play some tango or cha cha or whatever. I've got a questionable idea." I whisper to the man in black and watch as his expression changes from confusion to realisation.

I haven't danced in a long time. Probably not since high school at my graduation. But Crowley, on the other hand, is an expert. So, if he leads, it should be okay. Yeah, he mentioned that he used to dance.

The King of Hell returns and smirks as the quartet start playing the music he requested. The song isn't one that I recognise, but it's rhythmic. According to Crowleys expression, he knows it pretty well.