lolabobs | I did fic.

I did Bobby/Crowley fic.

I might be going to Hell myself.
Title: Pie
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Bobby/Crowley
Rating: PG-13
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers throughout S5. Some reference to torture, but nothing graphic.
length: 2.500

Bobby felt a rush of satisfaction when the wide grin was wiped, somewhat abruptly, from Crowley’s face when he swung round and shot him. Although, somehow, as he was knocked back against the dresser, the demon managed to look wounded.

“That wasn’t the welcome I was expecting.”

“There's no welcome for you here.” Bobby bit back at him “Now get the hell out of my house.”

Crowley righted himself, brushing irritatedly at the hole in his overcoat, yet still managed a smirk as he spoke.

“Bobby, Bobby, Bobby. I thought we were friends, and yet here you are, standing there shooting me.”

Bobby shot him again and Crowley’s eyes narrowed slightly. His voice raising as he responded.

“Now I know I told you they ate my tailor and yet you’re putting holes in my suits. That is NOT FRIENDLY.”

As he spoke Bobby threw down the handgun and moved to a drawer in the kitchen dresser, opening it and reaching in for the colt which had been stored there since, well, since Dean hugged Bobby farewell at the End of the World that never was.

“Whoa there Tiger.” Crowley straightened up swiftly, frowning, and gave an imperious flick of his hand causing the colt to spin out of Bobby’s hand, across the table and onto the floor, coming to rest at his feet. He made no attempt to pick it up, just stepped over it and stood facing Bobby, the amicability gone from his face.

“Don’t make me put you back in your chair Bobby.” the threat was explicit and even in his anger Bobby felt a fresh awareness of the legs beneath him. Crowley continued; the edge of power in his voice. “I came for a civilised chat...man to man.”

And because he was Bobby Singer, he responded to the threat with a sneering “Go to Hell.”

“Why would I want to do that? Horrible place. In fact...”

“I know.” Bobby uttered the words involuntarily, but Crowley didn’t hear them.

“I came to sign over your soul just like I promised. I am, after all, a man of my word.”

“My ass.” Bobby snapped back, eyes fixed on the colt at Crowley’s feet. He grimaced as Crowley winked at him and deftly flicked it with a well polished shoe, behind him and well out of reach.

“Bobby.” Crowley tilted his head and met his eyes, holding the contact and forcing Bobby to blink to break the gaze.

“What’s all this about Bobby Singer? We left on good terms... a torrid snog; legs doing all they should be… if not all they could.” He swept his eyes over Bobby’s torso and down, so blatantly that Bobby could feel the heat, could feel goose bumps rise on his arms and his stomach roil. And the wink Crowley followed it up with told Bobby that he knew full well the effect it had upon him.

Crowley continued, ticking off the final items on his fingers, before waggling them at Bobby.

“The Death deal’s done and all’s right in Heaven and Hell.” He paused, stopped by Bobby’s growl of incredulity.

“Okay well, I know you lost Gigantor, but you can’t blame me for that surely? I make deals and I keep ‘em. I’m not responsible for 8 foot tall martyrs to the cause.”

Bobby snarled picturing again the moment he’d shot a gun at Sam Winchester. At the boy he’d watched grow (and grow and grow) into the man who’d die to save a world.

He squashed down the loss and stated flatly “I’m going to kill you.”

“Bobby I’m hurt... strangely excited, but hurt nonetheless.” Crowley dipped his head forward confidentially “You realise we have to kiss to cancel our contract? I’ve been looking forward to it...” He waved the ‘phone that appeared in his hand, “I need some more memories.” He grinned.

“There’s no contract to cancel Asshole and there’s no way in He...” Bobby faltered “... No way I’m ever kissing you again.”

“Bobby – say it isn’t so – I know you felt it too.” Crowley wheedled before adding a touch of ice to his voice “And there is the tiny matter of your soul. I’m sure you haven’t forgotten that.”

Bobby gave him a scorching look.

“Oh that contract’s all served out. Cas made that null and void.”

Crowley laughed. “That sad sack? He may be an all powerful general of God now, or whatever the Hell he is – when he’s not hovering over Dean that is.” He grinned. “I wonder how Dean’s liking that angel on his shoulder? But, whoever he’s working for, he still doesn’t have the power to cancel a Crowley Contract.” He spoke proudly.

“Oh I kept to the contract” Bobby spat the words. “Cas just broke me out.”

“And how...” Crowley paused. “What are you talking about?” For the first time ever, the demon sounded uncertain of himself.

“I went to Hell. When Lucifer snapped my neck like a twig, your grubby little hounds had me down there so fast... you broke your goddamned word and I will kill you.”

“When did this happen?” Crowley looked taken aback and Bobby would have laughed if he hadn’t been so mad.

“Er, the day Lucifer got locked in his cage Dumbass. The day you...” Bobby swallowed down the lump in his throat, telling himself it was just nausea he was feeling, before continuing. “The day you greeted me at the gates and began playing with my rib cage.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow, “Oh no Bobby boy. If you died, well yes, the contract would have kicked in I can’t refute that. I’m a busy man I produce a lot of paperwork. I am the King of the Crossroads and I’m bloody good at it. Bloody good. But.” he emphasised the word heavily “BUT, I don’t oversee it. I’m not a hands on kinda guy. Well,” he paused and the look he gave Bobby was entirely inappropriate for the conversation. “What I mean is; I don’t do Hell.”

“You’re kind of easy to distinguish Crowley.” For some reason Bobby felt himself blush and it made him madder still.

“Then it was a demon made to look like me.” Crowley spoke patiently.

“You are a demon made to look like you!” Bobby spat, exasperated.

“Ah, yes, well. You’ve got me there.” Crowley gave a sudden smile.

Bobby just glared at him lips pressed tight together and Crowley continued unabashed.

“I can see how this might make you a bit dissatisfied with your whole deal experience. But...” he brightened. “You can’t have been there long. I didn’t even know you were dead... it couldn’t have been more than an hour or so. No need for such hostility.”

“Five days. Time flows kinda different there.” Bobby thought of Dean and squashed the thought down. Things made a lot more sense to him now.

Crowley patted him on the shoulder and turned away. “Oh. Well. That’s all water under the bridge. At least it means we don’t have to renegotiate to sort out the whole legs issue.”

“What...? You son of a bitch.” Bobby clenched his fists.

“We’ve already established that. I thought you were brighter than Heckle and Jeckle.” He turned almost casually and raised his hand as Bobby lunged toward him, the spell pinning Bobby to the wall and stopping the enraged man in his tracks. Bobby’s head should have slammed against the wall, but the momentum seemed to slow before it did so. Crowley looked at Bobby quietly before stepping close up to him.

“Bobby. What can I say? You weren’t supposed to die.” He reached out a hand to Bobby’s cheek, stopping just before he made contact, watching as Bobby tried to retract his head. “I came back to give you back your soul. I kept my word.” He stared directly into Bobby’s eyes “I didn’t know.”

Bobby tried to shy away from his hands, shuddering. The familiar touch pulled him straight back to Hell. To the sights and sounds he hoped to obliterate, wondering every day as he squashed them down how Dean coped. Thoughts that left him trembling as he tried not to think of Sam, experiencing his own torment right now.

He tried to spit in the demon’s face but his mouth was dry and his throat cracked. And instead of being angry Crowley reached out and smoothed his hand across Bobby’s face. Across the forehead and down his cheek to cup his face, fingers pressing to the nape of his neck.

“Bobby?” The soft question in his voice stalled the rage in Bobby and he answered quietly

“You tortured me Crowley. For five days. You’ll have to forgive me if I’m not skipping with joy to see you.”

A demon shouldn’t be able to look so compassionate. As Crowley pulled Bobby towards him the force holding him against the wall decreased and left him standing there unrestrained but for Crowley’s hands which seemed to be caressing the skin at his neck. Somehow the fingers reaching up into his hair and pushing hard against his skull served to hold him there without magic.

“I can make you forget.”

The offer was almost a whisper, Crowley standing so close that Bobby felt the air move across his lips.

He saw again the demon slicing into him. Gentle caresses that carried a knife blade hidden, each stroke of the hand leaving behind a pulsing wound. He felt again feather light kisses that burst open the skin beneath. He struggled to forget the mixed signals of pleasure and pain.

He’d come to associate love with pain, with fear. He’d killed his wife. And, eventually, knowing that her resurrection was bound to end in trouble, he’d killed her again. He’d watched his friends and family die. Learnt to fear constantly for those he loved.

Sex had long since boiled down to his own hand in the shower, sordid thoughts alone and so what if walking up and down stairs hadn’t been all he’d done the first night Crowley had given hi... the first night he’d gotten back his legs, if it wasn’t the only reason he was sore?

And the researcher in him knew that the kiss he shared with Crowley was friendlier than it needed to be for a deal seal and the honest man within knew that it wasn’t purely gratitude that had kept the ma...demon popping into his head when he was reacquainting himself with his...legs that night.

Bobby had no issues with gender and rather fewer than he’d thought with the idea of demons (Ruby notwithstanding.)

And thinking about it logically he knew Heaven was specially created for each lucky participant why should Hell be any different? Dean’s Hell wasn’t so much about the torture but about creating a world where he could disappoint himself, where he could fail his Daddy’s ideals and have one more reason to find himself wanting. And if Bobby’s turned out to be all about Crowley giving and taking. Caresses followed by pain. Softness swallowed by unforgiving power? Well it’s not as if he hadn’t known he he had trust issues.

Turns out it wasn’t even Crowley... wasn’t that the kicker... and how ironically apt.

He raised his eye to Crowley. The demon looked anxious. That was new. He moved his head forward slightly, brushing against Bobby’s lips for a second before Bobby recoiled. Smacking his head against the wall, harder than Crowley’s spell had in the first place.

Crowley drew back; looking hurt “Not every kiss comes with a deal attached Bobby.”

Then he pressed forward once more. The kiss was brief, soft, before he stepped away still holding Bobby’s eyes with his own. He spoke gently.

“What they did to you? That came from you. But I can take it away from you. Remove the memories. No strings attached.” He ran a hand across Bobby’s chest and stepped forward again. “Or I can help you forget?” The hand at Bobby's cheek curled round, following the line of his neck, down and under the windcheater he was wearing until it rested against his heart.

Bobby frowned, straining to hold still, not to push into the embrace, honest enough to know he wanted to. He thought of Dean, buried in domestic farce with Lisa. Mourning for his brother and imagining him in Hell. Should he have told Dean of his own visit? They hadn’t spoken in weeks, not since Dean had choked out “Bobby please.” and hung up the telephone, the brief contact proving too much. And how would it help anyway? “ Hey Dean, don’t worry your brother’s probably not slicing and dicing people like you had to, that was just the way your mind works. Sorry about that. Sammy is probably...” out dark siding Lucifer convinced he’s evil incarnate probably. God help him if he ever got free from that. Besides how could he tell him what his own Hell had been? He didn’t think Dean would welcome tales of his surrogate father getting it on with a Crowley impersonator, blood and guts mingling with other bodily fluids.

He came out of his thoughts as Crowley nudged against his lips once more. Had he really not known?

“I...” he started but it was the opening Crowley needed and he felt the warmth as he slipped his tongue into Bobby’s mouth, softly opening the kiss.

Bobby thought suddenly of pie. Of plates and plates of pie, overflowing the kitchen; spreading out onto the dresser and tables. Filling the freezer and stacking up uneaten. It had been five days then too, he realised with a start, five days of his dead wife baking incessantly and filling the house with sweet sticky smells. He’d made a choice then. In the face of everything he knew he’d chosen pie.

He heard himself moan into the kiss, embarrassingly and realised that he was going to let Crowley... bake his pie.

He snorted causing Crowley to stop what he was doing and quirk an eyebrow.

Bobby dipped his head toward the stairs. “Might as well get some use out of these legs.” he growled, as he crossed the room, impressed that the demon said nothing as he stepped over the Colt before climbing the stairs.

He could always kill him later.