#crowlthazar

Trying to get the juices flowing on this old dead horse of mine. I feel like I got a little cutesy with it back in Chapter 27, so here that is in its entirety. Crowlthazar drum roll for the win.

THE PENTHOUSE - EVENING

Late in the day at old Heathcliff Studios. Parties all over the highrise where in full swing. It seemed like there was only one peaceful place in the building, and that was Crowley's room. The TV was on mute and Nina Simone's "Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood" played quietly on the hifi. There were empty liquor bottles scattered around the armchair, and Crowley and Balthazar had resorted to drinking vermouth and cola. Crowley was still on Balthazar's lap and probably would've bitten anyone who tried to move him. He was near the end of a drunken rant:

"...I've even started playing video games," Crowley said, "that's how bored I am. And I end up doing the same thing in them that I do out here: I'm just grinding."

Balthazar snickered. "Grinding?" he asked. "What kind of video games are you playing?"

"It means when you do the same thing over and over," Crowley explained, "for money or experience. Slaying wild boars in the forest or some wank like that, to level up. You do it and you do it, and then one day, you look up and wonder where your life went. I'm the rat in the Skinner box pulling the lever. Killing pigs and waiting for the coins to drop."

"Silly prince of darkness," Balthazar said, but then started snickering again - he was just drunk enough to think 'prince of darkness' was funny. "You're waiting for the best part, but waiting is the best part."

Crowley frowned. "Are you talking about tantric pig-slaying? Because it's overrated."

"What I'm talking about is this: nothing in life feels as amazing as knowing something good is about to happen. The popcorn never tastes as good as it smells. Disneyland isn't half as fun as spotting the Matterhorn from the highway. It's the most incredible feeling in the universe. The trick is, dragging it out."

Crowley listened a moment, then started laughing his ass off.

"What's funny?" Balthazar asked.

"Basically?" Crowley asked. "You just said that becoming the co-ruler of an unequivocal global empire isn't going to feel as good as sitting here with me, right now, skunk as a drunk and talking about nothing."

"...Did I really say that?" Balthazar asked. "I don't think I said that."

"No, you did," Crowley said, giving Balthazar a joking hug, "just a bit. But no worries, Taz, I heart you, too. In fact..." Crowley ran his hand over Balthazar's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. He whispered in his ear, "I'm in the mood to play a game. We could play 'Crossroads'."

Balthazar pried Crowley's hand off. "You're drunk."

"That's how you play," Crowley said. He kept at it, nuzzling Balthazar, nibbling his ear. "I'll give you a head start."

Balthazar nudged Crowley off him, not unkindly. "I'm not doing anything with you when you're drunk that you wouldn't do sober."

Crowley sighed with frustration. But he was too sloshed to be all that disappointed. "Why do you have to be such a prude when you're hammered?"

"Why can't you be more of a slut when you're sober?" Balthazar asked. His resolve was waning. "I will take a gropey snuggle, though. To fortify myself against family issues."

Crowley made a face, disgusted. "What is it with you and snuggling?" he asked. "I don't snuggle, that counts as something I wouldn't do sober. You're a bloody sky warrior, and I'm the Devil, we're not the cuddly sort. Bad for the image."

"How are we not cuddly?" Balthazar asked, taking both their drinks and setting them on the cart. "We cuddle people all the time. We cuddle fans, sponsors - we cuddled Tom Bergeron in that Christmas special."

The horrifying realization sank in for Crowley. "Oh, bollocks. We are cuddly... When did this happen?"

"Photoshoots," Balthazar said, his voice full of regret. "Everyone sells out for a wind machine." He gathered Crowley up in his arms and stood up, very wobbly. He did his best to carry Crowley to his bed.

"You know," Crowley said, "for someone who doesn't want the game, you certainly know how to play."

"Better you pass out in bed than on the floor," Balthazar said.

When Balthazar got to the bed, he collapsed onto it, taking Crowley with him. For a minute, they laid beside each other, waiting out the dizziness. Balthazar's face was smooshed against the duvet.

"Just need the room to stop spinning," Balthazar said, "then I'll be sip sape. Shape tape... Grape Ape."

"What you get for drinking all day," Crowley said, chuckling under his breath. "That's neat how you do that."

"I know," Balthazar said, "I've got a liver the size of a coconut."

Crowley laughed. "Not that," he said. "You take care of me. Nobody else does that. Why do you do that?"

"I dunno," Balthazar said, really thinking about it. But it wasn't easy, his head was swimming. "I think... well, it makes me feel... you know, good. Strong."

"You are strong," Crowley told him. Alright, it was a little cajoling.

Balthazar shook his head sadly, "No, I play strong. You do all the work, you take all the hits. You fix everything. And I just... spend money and have parties... Marry Kardashians. I should've been with you today. I could've protected you. Instead of being holed up here, necking with security."

"The twins are very neckable," Crowley said. "You skipped one meeting-."

"And you could've been killed," Balthazar said, cutting Crowley off. "Don't try to put this into context, you'll only make my point for me."

Crowley giggled at the seriousness. "Aww, you angels take things so hard," he said. "We got the sniper, right? Maybe we'll even find the Colt. Hey. I'm not your job, Taz. I can take care of myself."

"That's not the point," Balthazar said, still feeling sorry for himself. Wallowing majestically. "I still should've been there. You've always been the strong one."

"Not always." Crowley put his hand on Balthazar's cheek clumsily.

They looked at each other for a moment, very intimate, their faces inches apart.

"If I you could have one wish," Crowley whispered, "what would it be?"

And that was it, Balthazar's resolve was gone. He pulled Crowley into his arms. Into a slow, tender kiss, full of longing. Crowley responded, deeply, passionately. And when it ended, they lingered close, refusing to break apart.

"You skipped a step," Crowley said breathlessly.

"I think it shows initiative," Balthazar said.

LOL this train has no brakes

Title: Birds and Bees Link to AO3 Fandom: SPN Square Filled: Balthazar/Crowley (for @crowleybigbang) Rating: Teen & up Tags: Post-Episode: s12e23 All Along the Watchtower, Afterlife, Canon Compliant, Bees Summary: There was "taking things slow" and then there was whatever Crowley and Balthazar had. Nothing changed until Crowley figured out one of the secrets of their afterlife.  Part 4 in the Something In Between series. Word Count: 3830 

Balthazar had barely remembered how he ended up in Crowley's bedroom, let alone having his own bed. He had been with Crowley for what felt like a week even though it probably has been a month on Earth. The Demon King has definitely surprised by showing kindness towards him considering his species. He has given Taz simple rules: Don't go to Earth without orders, don't mess with the Winchester's unless told to, and DONT mess with Castiel. Taz had no trouble following the last rule, he didn't want to die and neither did Crowley apparently.

Taz had to be honest with himself about Crowley; he was growing quite fond of the demon who brought him back from the dead only to make him his personal hound. Little did he know that Crowley felt the same way about him. Crowley admitted to himself that Balthazar was the greatest pet he has ever had. He always thought that Juliet was his favourite that was, until the angel came into his life. At first he was going to have him sleep next to his bed on the floor on an oversized dog bed until he proved himself, and that he did. Crowley would send him on missions and he would come back with either a soul or grace to give to his Master. That being the case he had given Balthazar his own bed next to Crowley's.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Crowley had had a long day as usual. Demons pissing him off and him smitting 99% of them. All he wanted was to go to his bedroom, have several shots of Craig and do something with HIS angel. He had already imprinted his mojo onto the angel whilst he was still out cold, Balthazar was in his debt fully. Today he had other ideas, he had to much anger on his shoulders and he needed to unleash it somehow.

When the King of Hell went into the room he was speechless. Balthazar's bed was a wreck. Covers and sheets were pushed off the bed with said angel on top of the bed with slick running down his legs and covered the bed near his body. He knew Balthazar was an Omega but he didn't know that Crowley was going through his demonic heat at the same time.

"You're back early." The angel said quickly, trying to keep his voice smoewhat normal. "What brings you here?" He stretched out still naked and covered in slick. He then doubled over in pain which made the King rush to his side with water in a bowl and with a rag. "Angel, hush." He tries to wash off Taz but the angel has other ideas.

"Do you want me to sto.... My Majesty. Please.... It hurts so damn much..... Don't you creatures go throu...." Crowley kisses the angel to shush him. "Not now darling. If you know what's best for you, you would be quiet and let me help you." At those words, Taz stretched himself out on the bed shaking and turning his head to the side trying to please his King. ‘Damn instincts.’ Take thought.

Crowley touched His Omega’s neck where the claim mark would be placed making the angel purr and whine. The Demon King hushed him yet again and snapped his fingers to make a tube of lube appear. “I know you don’t need this but it will help in the long run.” He slicked one finger before circling the enterance of Taz’s arse.

“Masteeeerrrrrrrrrr. Nnnnneeedddd yoooouuu. Please take caaaarrreee offff meeee. ALPHA!!!!” He cried leaving Crowley to take care of him. This also had to deal with Crowley going though his rut.

God, I needs to get back into this fic, but I don't have the spoons. But oh, I love this one, where we finally figure out why Balthazar had been playing with matches, so to speak. Enjoy whilst getting high and listening to The Turtles on repeat.

Chapter 47: Pyromania

HEATHCLIFF STUDIOS - AFTER MIDNIGHT

For the first time in years, it had begun to rain over Heathcliff Studios. On the roof of the high-rise, just outside the penthouse, was a lovely terrace and a greenhouse conservatory. As if Crowley and Balthazar weren't extra enough, the conservatory was made of gold and blue leaded glass and had a sort of art nouveau look, like a Tiffany lamp. All kinds of flowers and plants; someone took good care of the place.

Crowley liked to write episodes of Inferno in there to avoid distractions, but tonight he brought a distraction with him.

He and Balthazar sat on the wicker sofa inside, sharing a joint-. Is it too late to mention that Balthazar had gotten Crowley lit? Not quite all the way to tripping balls - it takes an unbelievable amount of substances to get high when you're already a cloud of smoke - but he was definitely feeling it now. They had a reel-to-reel tape recorder on the coffee table so they wouldn't have to write down their ideas for the new storyline.

Balthazar had some of Crowley's 'Relax' playlist blaring from his smartphone to get him loosened up. When the baseline of 'Happy Together' began to play, Crowley felt the room...

...Sink...

He sat back, thinking in slow-motion.

"What if we do something with all those souls?" Balthazar asked, trying to steer the session. "A sort of... lateral... power increase?"

Holding in a big breath, Crowley shook his head and gestured with his joint. "Overthinking it," he gasped, sucking in air. "The Archangel," he exhaled, letting a cloud of smoke roll out of his mouth, "a sort of... greater antagonist. Villain with a capital F-U. If your character beats him, he... becomes the King of Heaven." He took a long, slow drag. "Put this on repeat, I bloody love it."

"What I mean is, what if he had one?" Balthazar asked, quickly putting Happy Together on repeat. "He could get a suped-up power, to sort of, well, explain why we forgot to do anything with that thread until now." He chuckled as if to say, hey, this isn't a real thing I did, just a plot convenience.

Crowley snickered at that, holding out the joint to Balthazar who held up a hand. Crowley shrugged. "Are you saying he kept it a secret all this time? Never mind that it's a secret he'd have to keep from Crowley." He said it as if the very idea was absurd. "But can you really see that angel keeping a secret from anyone for more than a week?"

"Excuse me?" Balthazar snapped, more than a little offended.

And then he saw the look on Crowley's face. Like someone spammed the 'smirk' button.

"Now who's Frodo?"

Balthazar just glared at him. On the one hand, he really wasn't doing a great job of keeping the secret considering he nearly just blew his cover again. On the other hand, Crowley had to be high to think calling him Frodo was a sick burn.

"Harry Potter," Balthazar said. "The one who over-identified with his character was Daniel Radcliff. But what would Crowley do if he did?"

Crowley thought about it. "Depends on what the power was."

"Mind reading," Balthazar said. "What would Crowley do if Balthazar had been reading everyone's minds behind his back,... including his?"

Crowley laughed under his breath. "You mean after he killed him? I dunno. I suppose he'd feel... ways about stuff." He went on giggling.

"Well, how would you tell him?"

Crowley frowned. "You just over-pronouned me."

"If you were Balthazar," Balthazar asked, "how would you tell Crowley? To keep him from killing you."

"If I was Balthazar?" Crowley asked smugly. "I couldn't do it."

Balthazar flinched. That condescending attitude was getting to him. If he got out of this with his skin attached, he'd have to serve up a little recreational payback.

Crowley's brows rose. "But," he went on, "if I were me as Balthazar, I'd point to the contract."

"Pretending that was a sentence," Balthazar said, "what about it?"

"The prenup clause of the contract - I know you've read it, you helped me write it. If either of us tries to betray the other, then the offending party forfeits their souls to the injured party, effective immediately."

Balthazar wasn't getting it. "So... you'd give him your souls?" he asked.

Crowley rolled his eyes, head lolling to the music. Smiling because he couldn't stop smiling. "No, Taz. The contract. If Balthazar didn't lose his souls to Crowley, then the contract was never broken. Ergo...? My tone implies you finish the sentence...?"

"I didn't betray you," Balthazar said, a bit stunned. "You clever bastard. But isn't that just-."

Crowley cut him off. "That's the beauty of it. 'Technically'. It's technically not betrayal. There's nothing Crowley can argue. He signed the contract, he outlined what counts as betrayal and what doesn't. So he can either eat it or he can try to avenge himself and break the contract. He'd lose everything."

"Oh." Balthazar slumped back. "That feels cruel somehow."

"Yep." Crowley held out the joint for Balthazar. He shook his head and Crowley took another drag. Got up, feeling the music, bobbing his head to the rhythm.

"But what if Balthazar wants to make it up to Crowley?"

Crowley ignored him. The question didn't make sense and he was really grooving on the Turtles.

"What if Balthazar never meant to hurt Crowley's feelings?" Balthazar pushed on.

Crowley giggled out a plume. He was... just a little bit? Dancing. "If you're trying to keep your character sympathetic," he said, "just don't have him do the mind suck thing. It would be a more interesting turn for him, though. People don't expect the angel to be the heel."

Now Balthazar looked really blue. Not that he'd ever thought of himself as a hero, but a heel? That was sobering.

"What if he had good reasons for reading Crowley's mind? ...What if he just wanted to help him?"

"Help him what, have an aneurism? Come on."

"No, just... when he's sad. Hurt. Crowley's so guarded-."

"You're just in the weeds now, Taz." He got into a serious little shimmy thing. "Why would anyone play with fire like that?"

Balthazar sat with his arms folded for a moment. Just then he'd felt very intensely that no one had ever seen Crowley like this. Dancing to some corny old love song, no thought to his image.

Not a care in the world.

For all his crap about helping Crowley and fixing him, he finally realized this was pretty much it. This was what all the sneaking was really for: getting to see parts of Crowley nobody else ever saw. Being that one, that lucky only one, he let get this close. The only one who knew him. Saw him. Truly. It had become so addictive, he was actually risking his life for it.

Balthazar got up and joined Crowley, holding him close.

"He's an idiot," Balthazar said.

A mostly self-explanatory excerpt from Chapter 43 of my albatross of a Work in Progress, Concordat.

Why 43? For the only reason I do anything anymore.

...

Why is it taking me so long to finish this fic? Maybe I’ve just moved on emotionally and mentally. But the story still means something to me. And I wanna finish. oh, bother.

Welp. If you like Crowley and Balthazar snugs and smooches, and them yelling at people named Noole, enjoy chapter... *sigh*

...35.