Supernatural One Shots~Requests open

CrowleyXReader

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It was a relatively quiet night in the bunker, and you more than gratefully embraced the almost soundless air. The cicadas were buzzing and the crickets were chirping, but there were no words slipping past any human’s lips. The boys were exhausted from a long string of hunts that had seemed infinite; tonight was the first night that you all had caught a break, and they had gladly collapsed into peaceful slumbers, guaranteed not to wake until late the next morning.

You, on the other hand, just couldn’t seem to find sleep. Instead, you found yourself walking around on the chilly floors with bare feet, contemplating what you had seen the last few hunts, trying to wrap your mind around how insane your life had become in the last few years. The crisp air made you tighten your sweater around your body; clothed with a tank top and shorts, you wished you could bring yourself to get under the sheets on your bed, but rest just didn’t seem like an option. You needed to think. You almost grabbed yourself a beer, but your hand grazed over the wine bottle instead, only used for those rare occasions of bliss.

“Drinking this early in the morning? Really, darling?” You jumped at the sound of Crowley’s voice, and scowled. You still could not believe that the boys were letting Crowley be a bit freer around the bunker.

“None of your business.”

He merely smirked at your frigid response. “Mind if I join in?” Snapping his fingers, a glass of what you could only guess was scotch appeared in his hand.

“I guess I can’t say no now, can I?” You replied, pouring yourself a glass of the drink that would help you relax.

“I suppose not.” Crowley followed you into the library, watching as you started a small fire in the vintage fireplace. “What is a woman like you doing up, not getting her beauty sleep? Pray tell.” As you considered your answer, he sank into an armchair. You did the same, criss-crossing you legs on the one across from him.

“Just…reminiscing,” you answered after a while, tentatively sipping your drink.

“And what about?”

“How I used to have a normal life, and none of this supernatural stuff was real to me,” you mused. “Now, I’m hunting the monsters that kids learn about in horror movies. Demons and angels exist. God has left town. I’m sitting and talking to the King of Hell. It’s just very weird to get a grip on what my life is now.”

“Interesting.” Crowley took a long drink of his scotch. “But we have always existed, so I don’t find that important. Don’t you have something better to worry about, such as…love?”

You scoffed. “A hunter worrying about love? That never ends well.”

“Yes, suggesting to you to give one chance to romance, how silly of me. But I’m being serious. Just because you are a hunter doesn’t mean you should be alone with those morons of yours.”

“Hey, hold it, they’re actually letting you walk around in here,” you retorted. “They actually are idiots for letting you do that, but you don’t have to call them that.” He shrugged, and you continued. “Plus, why am I even talking to you about my private life?”

“Maybe because you don’t like opening your heart to Moose and Squirrel. You don’t want them to see you as…weak.” One of his eyebrows went up at your expression. “Oh? Looks like I was correct.”

You furiously gulped down the rest of your wine, your relaxed state of mind long gone. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Crowley.” You stood up quickly, cursing the alcohol you had drank as you wavered in your movement. Crowley grabbed your arm and steadied you, then sat back down in his chair with you sitting on his lap. “Let me go.”

You were surprised as you saw a touch of affection in his eyes. “Come on, I didn’t mean to pull any strings. I just really wanted to talk to you.”

“About love?” You questioned, and he nodded. “Well here’s what I think: love comes in powder, pills, and it’s sold on the street. It’s always just a guilty pleasure and an addiction.”

“But there is love that comes from the heart,” Crowley answered sadly. “Can you not see it, even now?”

You were silent for a few moments, but then came to a conclusion that bewildered you. “Crowley? Do you-“

You couldn’t even finish your sentence before he brought his lips to yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he pressed his hands to the small of your back. Warmed by the heat of the fire, the kiss was perfect. He pulled away, letting the touch of his mouth linger on yours.

“Now tell me,” he whispered. “Can true love really not be achieved?”

A/N- Request!