𝕼𝖚𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖔𝖋 𝕳𝖊𝖑𝖑 ⛦𝕮𝖗𝖔𝖜𝖑𝖊𝖞⛦

21 Questions

Chapter 3: 21 Questions

"Aargh." Crowley growled, face twisted in angered pain. Trevor had managed to get the drop on him, setting up a trap in one of the spare bedrooms. On walking through the doorway, a gallon of pure holy water dumped on his head. He could hear the dimwit cackling from somewhere upstairs. 

His clothes were now soaked, holy water sizzling on his skin. The feeling prickled painfully, searing into his nerve endings. Having no want to parade around the ramshackle house in infested clothing, Crowley quickly teleported back to his home, changed, and came back. 

Fixing his jacket lapels, Crowley cracked his neck before looking over at a startled Margo. "Wh-where did you go? What was that? Is that holy water? Are you okay?" 

Rambling, she ran a hand through her hair and let out a breath. Did she seriously just ask the King of Hell if he was alright? "I went to change. That was a trap. Yes, it is holy water. And yes, I am fine. Murderous, but fine." 

Crowley smirked to himself a little, having realized that the blonde woman had been concerned about his well being. Him. The King of Hell. Not only that, but he was amused by her babbling. 

Sighing, Margo shook her head slightly. She was thankful that the demon had pushed her out of the way. The holy water obviously wouldn't harm her, but getting soaking wet would only add to the crappiness of the night. And unlike Crowley, she couldn't just magically change her clothes in two seconds flat. 

The two had spent the last ten minutes wandering around the house aimlessly, looking for Brad. The demon inside him was obviously having his fun, teleporting around the house and setting various traps. Crowley, of course, could easily dispose of him in many ways, but he was having far too much fun himself. He could stand a little holy water if it meant he could get under Margo's skin a little further. Besides, what was the point of immediately offing Trevor? Crowley wanted to let the deserter think he had the upper hand before showing him how utterly wrong he truly was. 

"We should play a game." 

At the extremely random topic choice, Margo's gaze snapped up to Crowley from its focus on the ground. "What?" 

"We should play a game. You do like games, don't you?" He teased, an eyebrow cocked as he took a step closer to her. 

"Depends on the game." She answered tensely. Her muscles only tightened more the closer Crowley got, until he was standing right in front of her. He just looked at her for a moment, his head barely tilted to the side, before he spoke. 

"21 questions." Margo's expression shifted to one of befuddlement, not at all expecting that to be his answer. "I ask, you answer. You ask, I answer. That sort of thing." 

"Why?" 

"Oh, Margo." He tsked, shaking his head as he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "You give yourself far too little credit." Crowley paused, looking directly into her eyes. "I want to know everything about you. You're fascinating." 

Not quite sure if she should take that as a compliment coming from a demon, Margo's face slightly contorted. However, unlike her conflicted mind, her body and heart 100% took the compliment. Her cheeks went pink, palms becoming sweaty as her heart rate sped up. It felt like her heart was twisting in her chest, trying to find a way to contain the new emotions it held. 

The two just stared at one another for a moment. They were both captivated, as they were every time they got too close to each other. Margo found herself lost, her mind a blank slate as she gazed up at him. Likewise, Crowley was watching the emotions that swam in her eyes like an open ocean. Practically gravitating together, Crowley's lips were only centimeters away from hers when she managed to pull away.