Suspicious.

You’re standing in the middle of his throne room in Hell like you took a wrong turn on a Sunday stroll.

White light fades around you, wings rustling faintly behind your back as you glance around with quiet curiosity.

“Hello,” you say politely.

Crowley blinks.

“…Hello?”

The room is silent.

Several demons are staring like you just walked into a biker bar wearing a halo and a name tag that says please mug me.

Which, frankly, isn’t far off.

“You’re Crowley,” you continue, stepping forward. “King of Hell.”

“Still am,” he says slowly. “Though I’m beginning to think you’ve popped in the wrong postcode, darling.”

You tilt your head. Very much like a certain trench-coated angel he unfortunately knows.

“No. I meant to come here.”

That makes the demons laugh.

One of them mutters, “Oh this’ll be good.”

Crowley leans back in his throne, steepling his fingers.

“And why, exactly, would an angel intend to visit Hell?”

You smile.

Not smug. Not threatening.

Just… warm.

“I wanted to meet you.”

The silence that follows is so heavy you could drop it down a well and never hear it hit bottom.

Crowley stares.

“…You wanted to meet me.”

“Yes.”

“King of Hell. Professional villain. Torturer of souls. Ring any bells?”

“Yes,” you say brightly. “That’s you.”

He squints at you.

“You do realize angels typically show up to smite me, yes?”

You frown slightly, considering that.

“That seems unnecessarily aggressive.”

A demon in the corner chokes.

Crowley pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Right. Of course it does.”

You step closer to the throne, peering at him like he’s a mildly interesting museum exhibit.

“I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh, I’m sure you have.”

“Most of it was very negative.”

“Ah. There we are.”

“But,” you continue thoughtfully, “I believe everyone deserves a chance to be understood.”

Crowley stares at you like you’ve just declared the sky is made of marmalade.

“Angel,” he says slowly, “I run Hell.”

“Yes.”

“I sell souls.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve personally orchestrated several thousand catastrophes.”

“Yes.”

You nod.

“And yet you came here to… what, exactly?”

You offer your hand.

“To introduce myself.”

Behind you, one demon whispers, “She’s gonna die.”

Crowley looks at your hand.

Then at your face.

Then back at your hand.

“…You’re serious.”

“Yes.”

“You’re not secretly planning to smite me.”

“No.”

“Or trap me in holy fire.”

“No.”

“…Or lecture me.”

You pause.

“…I might do that later.”

Crowley lets out a short, disbelieving laugh.

“Bloody hell.”

He takes your hand.

His grip is cool, careful.

“Crowley,” he says.

You beam like this is the most normal introduction in the world.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

Across Heaven, several angels are probably screaming.

Crowley, however, finds himself oddly entertained.

And deeply concerned that he might like you.

The bunker was unusually quiet.

Not ominous apocalypse quiet.

Just soft, domestic, married-bliss quiet.

You were curled up on the couch in the library, your feet tucked beneath Crowley's thigh while he pretended to read a lore book upside down.

"Darling," he muttered without looking at you. "You're distracting me."

"You're holding that backwards."

"I'm absorbing it through vibes."

You snorted and leaned your head on his shoulder. Crowley adjusted instantly, one arm slipping around you with the ease of someone who'd done this a thousand times. His thumb traced lazy circles over your hip.

Married life with the King of Hell was surprisingly... cozy.

He snapped his fingers and two mugs of tea appeared on the table.

"You know," he said, smug as ever. "I do enjoy ruling the damned, but this? This is much more my speed."

"Domestic bliss?"

"Yes. You, me, a mildly cursed tea set, and zero Winchesters interrupting."

As if summoned by dramatic irony-

A swirl of purple smoke erupted in the middle of the room.

You didn't even flinch.

Crowley groaned.

"Oh for the love of-"

Out of the smoke stepped a small, red-haired witch in glamorous black, looking like she'd just stepped off a runway for 'Sinister but Make It Fashion."

Rowena MacLeod gave you a dazzling smile.

"Well, if it isn't the happy couple!"

Crowley pinched the bridge of his nose.

"MOTHER."

You brightened. "Rowena!"

She opened her arms and swept you into a hug that smelled faintly of expensive perfume and morally questionable magic.

"Oh, you radiant thing! Married to my Fergus! I simply had to see it with my own eyes."

Crowley looked scandalised. "You could have called."

"And miss the dramatic entrance?" She flicked her fingers, and suddenly there was floating candles and champagne glasses hovering mid-air. "Please."

You shot Crowley a look. "You didn't tell me she was coming."

"I didn't know she was coming."

Rowena gasped theatrically. "I am wounded. A mother visiting her son and his darling wife is an unexpected intrusion now?"

"Yes," Crowley and you said in unison.

You glanced at him.

He glanced at you.

Rowena clutched her chest. "Oh, you're synchronised. How nauseatingly adorable.

Crowley muttered. "I blame you."

"You married me."

"Under mild duress."

"You cried."

"There was smoke in my eye."

Rowena snapped her fingers and a framed photo appeared in mid-air - the two of you on your wedding day. Crowley in a sharp suit, you glowing, both of you laughing at something off-camera.

Rowena softened.

"Well," she admitted, voice gentler. "I suppose I did come to congratulate you properly."

Crowley blinked. Suspicious.

"Are you ill?"

"Oh hush," She waved him off and turned to you. "You make him softer."

"I do not-"

"You do," she continued sweetly. "He smiles more. It's disturbing."

Crowley scoffed, but his hand tightened subtly around yours.

You squeezed back.

Rowena stepped closer, examining you like you were a particularly impressive magical artifact.

"And you, my dear... thank you."

You blinked. "For what?"

"For loving him. He pretends to be all thorns and ego, but he's always been a wee bit... fragile underneath."

Crowley sputtered. "Mother!"

Rowena winked at you.

You leaned into Crowley's side deliberately. "I like the thorns."

He preened isntantly.

"See? Appreciated."

Rowena rolled her eyes. "Oh yes, very intimidating. King of Hell. Terrifying. Absolutely undone by cuddling."

"I am not undone."

"You whined when she moved three inches away from you earlier."

"That was temperature related."

You grinned. "It was not."

Rowena laughed - a rich, delighted sound - and lifted her champagne glass.

"To my son, who somehow found someone patient enough to tolerate him."

Crowley lifted his own glass with a sigh.

"And to my brilliant wife, who has excellent taste in demons."

You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"To unexpected family visits."

Rowena smirked. "Unexpected? Oh, pet. I haven't even started."

Crowley went pale.

"Mother."

She wiggled her fingers mischievously. "I may have enchanted the bunker to play romantic music every time you two hold hands."

Right on cue, soft violin music filled the air.

Crowley stared at her in horror.

You burst out laughing.

Rowena beamed. "Oh, this will be delightful."

Crowley snapped his fingers - nothing happened.

He snapped again.

The violins swelled louder.

Rowena leaned in conspiratorially to you. "It escalates if you kiss."

Crowley turned slowly towards you.

You raised a brow.

"Don't you dare."

You smiled sweetly and kissed him anyway.

The music exploded into a full orchestral crescendo.

Somewhere down the hall, a drawer slammed open dramatically for no reason.

Crowley groaned into the kiss.

Rowena clapped her hands, delighted. "Oh, married life suits you both."

Crowley pulled back, glaring half-heartedly at his mother.

"I will be undoing this."

"Eventually," she said airily. "But for now, enjoy the ambience."

You tucked yourself closer into Crowley's side, resting your chin on his shoulder.

"Admit it," you murmured. "You love this."

He huffed.

"... Perhaps a little."

Rowena raised her glass again.

"To love, chaos, and emotionally constipated demons finding happiness."

Crowley sighed dramatically, but he didn't let you go.

Not even a little.

And when you laced your fingers with his, the violins swelled again.

He muttered into your hair.

"If she enchants the bedroom, I'm starting a war."

Rowena's voice floated from across the room.

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Crowley didn't even realise it at first. He was so busy watching you. You- so perfectly human. So perfectly ordinary. You weren't even doing anything super out there either- you were just... out on your balcony watering a plant.

And yet to Crowley, a demon of Hell and a fallen angel, you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. How could you not be, really?

When you turn around, Crowley's worried he's about to get whisked away by some horrifying Hell-beast sent to drag him back down under and no, he doesn't mean Australia. Although sometimes he had to wonder if Australia wasn't some elaborately planned prank to poorly imitate Hell. But that was a different question.

Anyway, where was he? Oh, yes, when you turned around and made eye contact with him, Crowley thought that given the look on your face, maybe Hastur had somehow made a triumphant return. That would have been less than stellar and Crowley wasn't quite sure what to make of the implications of that if it were true.

"Mm- what," Crowley asked, brows creasing in concern as he twisted his rather bendy neck to look behind him. Seeing a swish of black cross over his shoulder, Crowley wondered just what it could- oh. Oh. His- his wings were out. Why were his wings out?

"You- you're-" you stuttered, pansies forgotten and drowning under the water you were still pouring on top of them.

"I am," Crowley replied, just as confused as you.

"God, Crowley," you breathed, setting the watering can down without breaking your gaze away from the feathered appendages stretching and flittering against the breeze in your apartment.

"Mm," Crowley hummed. "Not so much on the first, but go on."

He's nervous, you realise. About your reaction. He's worried you're going to react negatively and he's going to have to leave you. Silly demon. You could never.

"They're gorgeous," you rushed out, stepping towards him, hand outstretched gingerly. "Can I touch one?"

"Sure, I guess," he answered, actually looking rather unsure. He swallowed thickly when you make contact, fingers softly trailing the ridges of a feather. "These old things- had them for ages. Since the dawn of time, really... Almost."

"Where'd they come from?" You asked, ignoring his rambling. "As in- just now?" You clarified quickly. If you didn't, you were sure to receive a deflective answer.

"Not sure, really. Think maybe- because I was thinking about something. 'Bout you."

"About me?" Your eyes darted to his and you immediately understood. You could see it in those slitted eyes. He was in love. With you. Crowley was in love with you. Not that you didn't already know that- what with having been together for a good few months by now, but he had finally really and truly come to the realisation on his own. You were his forever.

"About you," he confirmed, voice soft.

Crowley sat on your armchair, his legs slung on top of your coffee table as he watched you move around in the kitchen. You hummed as you worked making the Demon smile. He rose from his seat moving over to your record collection. He skimmed through the vinyls searching for the right one. Once he’d found it he went over to your record player, placing the disc in before turning the machine on. Your head turned to face him as you heard “Good Old-fashioned lover boy” begin to play. You smiled at Crowley, watching as he moved over to you.

“Queen huh?”

“Heard you humming it.”

“Ah I see.”

You placed the rag you had been holding on the counter. Crowley watched you sway your body to the rhythm cautiously for a moment before starting to dance without hesitation. He grinned at you his head bopping to the beat. You stuck your hand out to him walking backwards into the living room.  He gave you a dubious glance, silently asking what you were doing.

“Well, aren’t you going to dance with me?”

“Oh I don't dance.”

“Bullshit.”

Crowley looked at you, his eyes moving over your features sadly. Before the memories could get him down he gave you his hand.

“Oh what the hell.”

You laughed as Crowley spun you around. The two of you moved around the living room, each one dancing in their own weird way. Everyonce in a while you'd bump into each other causing you to have a fit of laughter. Neither of you thought anything of it when your skin grazed the other, you were used to having close contact with each other. And then something changed. You bumped into Crowley for what felt like the hundredth time but this time instead of nudging him with your limps you managed to collide into his body, causing his arms to wrap around you.

“Careful dove.”

“Sorry.”

You raised your head, eyes falling on Crowley's yellow orbs. You hadn't noticed he’d taken off his glasses. Your hand found its way to his cheek, one finger tracinging over the mark near his ear. The Demon stared down at you observing the way your eyelids fluttered lightly as you caressed him, your lips parted in a way that allowed him to feel your breath against his skin. He could feel your heartbeat against his chest, the steady thrum soothing him. You didn’t break eye contact, allowing Crowley's eyes to lure you in. The Demon started to become self conscious causing him to lower his gaze. You called out his name placing a finger under his chin. He raised his head to look at you. He looked so scared. You’d rarely seen him look so uncertain of himself.

“You’re very pretty, you know that?”

You weren’t really sure why you’d said that. It had just come out. Crowley's brows creased as he looked at you. Here you were holding him in your arms in the middle of your living room and telling him he looked pretty. He wasn’t used to this kind of treatment. He didn’t really know how to react. You moved your head up slightly, eyes shifting back and forth as you inched your face closer to Crowleys. When the Demon didn’t move away from you in anger you decided to go for it. Your lips grazed Crowleys as you laid a gentle kiss to his mouth. You opened your eyes, pulling away. Your gaze fell on Crowley's shocked expression, your own eyes widening as you realized what you’d just done.

“Oh shit. Crowley, I'm so sorry.”

You backed away unlatching yourself from Crowley as you stumbled backwards. You put your hands over your face covering it in embarrassment.

“Fuck.”

Letting out an angry groan you forced yourself to look at Crowley. He still had the same expression plastered on his face. You bit your lip as you tried to formulate the right thing to say. 

“Crowley listen i’m really-”

He was sick of hearing you say sorry. He was sick of the way you avoided his gaze. He needed to feel you again. Needed to have you close to him. With two long strides the Demon had made his way over to you, one of his hands gripping onto your hip as the other wound itself in your hair. Crowley shoved his lips against yours, hungrily devouring the gasp that left your mouth. You clung onto Crowley's jacket in desperation. He kissed you in a bruising manner, hands trying to hold onto whatever of you he could reach. His hands were cold against your skin, something you’d become used to over the years. In your despair you and Crowley had managed to make your way to the other side of the living room. Your ass bumped into the record player causing the needle to scratch against the vinyl in a grating noise. The sound made you and Crowley cover your ears, hands detaching from each other. The Demon let out a frustrated groan moving to lift the needle.

“I’ll get you a new one.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Crowley set the needle back down on the disc in a random spot. A small sigh left the Demon's lips as “Somebody to love” started playing. You noticed the way Crowley's body sagged a bit causing you to frown.

“Crowley here let me change-”

“Listen.”

The Demon's hand held onto your wrist, stopping you from switching the track that was playing. You didn’t understand why he wanted to keep listening to this song. After everything that had happened in the past few weeks you would have thought that a love song was the last thing he would want to hear. Crowley's fingers trailed up your arm making you look at his face. You watched as he observed the way his fingers moved over your skin. He was thinking about something. Really thinking about it. You wondered what exactly could make the line between his brows appear so predominant.  You placed your hand over Crowley’s causing him to look at you. You smiled at the Demon beginning to nod your head to the beat of the song. 

“Find me somebody to love. Come on Crowley sing it with me.”

“Find me somebody to love.”

“There you go.”

You sang the words together. While you sang with your whole heart Crowley sang with a bit more hesitancy. You didn’t hold it against him though. He'd been through a lot. Even if the words were part of lyrics they still held a deeper meaning. You knew that. Maybe that was what made you sing with such passion. Maybe it’s what made you keep your eyes focused on Crowley's face as you sang. Because it meant something. And you wanted him to know that. 

“Can anybody find me somebody to…..love.”

“Already did.”

“Oh Crowley. Azi’s a fool he’s a big-”

“I’m not talking about the Angel.”

Your brows creased in confusion. Crowley loved Aziraphale. You’d known if from the moment you’d laid eyes on them. So if he wasn’t talking about him who could he be-oh oh. Crowley moved closer to you, placing his hand on your chin. You gazed up at him, eyes moving back and forth as your brain struggled to compute what this meant. The Demon leaned his head down slightly. He was going to take it slow this time. Give you time to push him away if that’s what you wanted. He wouldn’t fuck up again. He knew better now. Crowley called out your name. You realized you hadn’t said anything for a while.You cursed yourself for reacting so slowly.  You’d forgotten that Crowley had developed trust issues because of Aziraphale. He wasn’t going to be the one to make the final move. He couldn’t handle another heartbreak so he was leaving it up to you to decide what happened next.

“Crowley…”

The Demon prepared himself to pull away from you. He’d already begun to back away when you let out a breathy whisper.

“I love you too.”

Firstly, because demons didn’t sleep. Which is why you were more surprised over the fact that Crowley was currently still asleep than you were over yourself waking up next to him.

Secondly, you were a hunter. You were trained to hunt demons. To kill them. Not to trust them, let alone allow yourself to be so vulnerable around them. And if there was ever a moment where you were at your most vulnerable it was when you were asleep.

Yet here you were, not only asleep around a demon but asleep next to one. Asleep in the arms of one. Your legs tangled together with one in ways you didn’t even know was possible and yet it was comfortable. He was comfortable. His body. His touch. His mere presence was comfortable which is exactly why you had fallen asleep beside him.

Had you not grown so comfortable around Crowley over the past few months you’d have never dreamed of allowing yourself to sleep around him, let alone next to him. But you had, therefore you did. And when you woke that morning, his face being the first thing you saw when your eyes fluttered open, you didn’t feel anything but happiness and a sense of peace.

The minute Crowley began to stir next to you, you shut your eyes, pretending to still be asleep as you did not need him acting all smug when he realised you’d been gazing at him whilst he slept. You could feel his breath against your forehead, no doubt glancing down at you to see if you were awake yet.

After a few seconds you allowed your eyes to open again, acting as though it was the first time they had. You lifted you hand, rubbing lightly at them and forcing a yawn to escape your mouth, gently nuzzling your cheek over his chest where his heartbeat quickened beneath.

“Good morning.” You mumbled, kissing his chest before you lifted your head to meet his gaze, which softened the second it locked onto yours.

“Good morning, darling.” Crowley said as softly as he could given the raspiness to his voice brought on by hours of not talking.

Which must have been a challenge as he did love the sound of his own voice. Not that you were complaining though as you did too. His earlier morning one especially.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in his and kissing you in a way that had you melt beneath him. You could feel that immense warmth burst across your chest, your stomach feeling as though someone had forced a swarm of butterflies down into it as his lips continued to work against yours, clearly not bothered by the morning breath you could have sworn you had.

“Good morning indeed.” Crowley whispered as he pulled briefly back, bringing one hand up to land aside your face, fingers threading through your hair as he brought you towards him again.

Your own hand rose, coming to rest atop his as you allowed him to keep kissing you, which had soon become your new favourite hobby as you just couldn’t get enough of it. Especially when his stubble would scratch over your skin in all the best ways. Just reminding you it was real and not a rather vivid dream as you still couldn’t quite believe it.

“Since when do demons sleep?” You asked curiously the second your lips parted, Crowley’s thumb brushing lightly over yours as his hand came to cradle the side of your neck.

“Since a breathtakingly beautiful woman tired him out last night to the point where he couldn’t help but feel like he needed it.” Crowley replied, causing you to blush profusely as all the memories of said night swarmed your sleep-hazy mind.

If you hadn’t been damned just for kissing him then you’d definitely have been after the things you let him do to you.

“My apologies.” You said playfully, a somewhat smug seeming smile flashing across your face as you leaned up, placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

“No need to apologise, love.” He whispered, his thumb tracing light circles against the warmth of your neck. “Not when it allowed me the pleasure of waking up next to you.”

“Quite the sweet talker, aren’t you?” You teased, lifting your hand to slide it around the back of his neck, feeling the softness of his hair as your fingers delved into it.

“Only for truly special people.” Crowley replied, making you blush even more as who knew he had such a soft side to him.

“If I’m so special…” You began, pecking his lips briefly before pulling back just a little. “And you enjoy waking up next to me so much…” Another quick peck against his lips. “Does that mean we’ll get to do this more often?”

Using his hold on your neck to stop you from backing away, Crowley kissed you again. In a way so passionate yet so gentle. So loving. That you almost couldn’t think straight and your eyes needed a second longer than normal to open afterwards, just in time to catch the movement of his lips as he said the words you secretly longed to hear.

“Darling, you best believe we’ll be doing this again, because there isn’t anything on this earth, or in Hell, that I’d rather do than wake up next to you.”

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