Ineffable (Crowley x female OC)

In which it is Halloween

"Happy Halloween!" exclaimed Crowley when Jenna walked into the kitchen at 8:02am. She had just rolled out of bed to get some breakfast, sporting a thick tartan (from Aziraphale, obviously) robe over warm pajamas, messy hair and bleary eyes, and started when he jumped up from the table like an orange and black gremlin.

"Ah!" she cried, clutching her heart and staring at him as if he'd lost his mind. "You scared the hell out of me!"

Crowley chuckled. "Fun fact: you can actually scare the hell out of someone if you have a good enough exorcist," he teased, smirking proudly and crossing his arms over the jack o' lantern grinning on his neon orange shirt.

Jenna rolled her eyes and smiled. "I should have known you'd be excited for today," she said, sitting down across from him and crossing her own arms. "I didn't expect to see you till 11 at the earliest, sleepyhead."

Crowley scoffed and waved his right hand dismissively. "Oh please, I've been up for hours. Between creating decorations to put up and--"

"Decorations? For the flat?" Jenna interrupted, raising an eyebrow and squinting her eyes at him with suspicion. "I thought you said decorating during the holidays was lame and kitschy. Besides, you hate participating in the demonic rituals that you invented for humans."

Crowley frowned in alarm. "What? I never said that! Well, maybe not to--well, what I mean is--um, wh-who told you I said that?" he stuttered, his handsome face scowling with annoyance but his golden eyes apprehensive.

Jenna smirked. "Zira told me before we met. We were discussing how he loves to decorate the shop for Christmas, but you always mock him for it, saying it's "lame" and "kitschy," among other things."

"Oh, bugger," muttered Crowley, resting his forehead on his left hand in defeat.

"And later, when you revealed your supernatural lineages, Zira added that you're the one who actually started the whole "decorate your house for Christmas, Valentine's Day, Halloween," etc. to help capitalism along," she added, enjoying his obvious discomfort. "And you yourself have said on numerous occasions how much you hate to engage in the rituals or use the items you invented to corrupt humanity, so." She shrugged her shoulders and smiled very attractively, trying not to laugh at Crowley's mortified expression.

There was a short pause while Crowley thought about what to say. When nothing good arose, he decided to just wing it. No, you can't just "wing it," his internal angel admonished. That never ends well.

I'm with wank-wings on this one, added his devil, who was lounging on a black sofa eating buffalo wings with ranch dressing. As much as I hate to use profanity, I'm gonna say it: just tell her the honest-to-God truth. I know, I know, coming from me that's like, "WTF?" but seriously, dude: I think that's your safest option at this point. Crowley's angel nodded vehemently from behind the couch, both looking up at him (wherever he was situated in this delusional scenario) expectantly.

Crowley sighed, opened his eyes and stared at Jenna's beautiful face, which was much more awake and impish now that they'd teased each other a bit. He smiled sheepishly, took a deep breath, and (G-, S-, Somebody help him) followed his internal team's advice.

"I'm sorry, love," he began, eyes sad and apologetic. Jenna's smile fell and she reached out to hold his hand, concern now dancing across her fine features. "That's all true, I hate to say. I technically invented the concept of decorating for holidays, but only to mess with humans. I never took it seriously or saw any point to it, and frequently mocked everyone who took part in it--including my best friend--" he added, shame-faced, "--until, well, until I saw you and your family doing it."