Written: 26.03.12
Words: 504
Crobby
Bobby jumped up from his desk as a gust of wind blew through his living room, sending his carefully-stacked translated papers flying around the room.
It only took a moment for his semi-wild eyes to land on Crowley, who had his hands raised in mock surrender, “Hello, Robert.”
Bobby shook his head and eased down onto the corner of his desk, before nodding to the now-littered-floor, “Isn’t wind usually the upstairs guy’s thing?”
Crowley took a few steps forward and shrugged, “I figured a little theatrics might keep you from shooting me.” This time.
The corner of his mouth twitched at that, “Don’t bet on it.”
Crowley shook his head as he continued closing the distance, “Someone’s feisty today.” He looked over the desk and raised an eyebrow, “Moose and Squirrel need their hands held again?”
“Watch it.”
Bobby’s harsh tone was betrayed by his smile as the demon leaned in for a kiss. Bobby’s brows furrowed as he pulled back, eyes catching on a shiny thing that appeared stuck to his shoulder.
He plucked it off the demon and brought it closer to his face, confusion growing, “Is that… glitter?”
Crowley let out a deflating sigh, “Unfortunately.” At the continued confused expression, he sighed again, “The underlings apparently thought it’d be funny to rig confetti canons to my throne room doors.”
“And they chose green glitter… why?”
Crowley leaned past him to grab the whiskey glass from the desk, “For St. Patrick’s Day.”
Bobby chuckled as he let the piece of glitter fall from his hand, “So they still haven’t figured it out yet?”
“Apparently not.” Crowley downed what was left in the glass before he shook his head, “I doubt they will at this point, though. Seems all the competent demons are dead.”
“Sorry about that.”
That earned him a chuckle from the demon as he magically refilled the glass, “Yes, I guess that would be your fault, wouldn’t it?”
The corner of Bobby’s mouth twitched back up into a smile as he stole the glass from the demon, placing it behind him, “Maybe I can find a way to make it up to you.”
“Oh?” Crowley raised an eyebrow and nodded to the research, “You sure Moose and Squirrel can manage without you for a few hours?”
Bobby slid off the desk, giving the demon a hungry once over, “The longer they take, the more time we have.”
Crowley let out a low whistle at that, and gave the hunter an impressed once over, “Best not waste any time, then.”
The demon led the way out of the living room, then.
He stopped the hunter with a hand to the chest as they reached the bottom of the stairs, “… You know I’m not British either, right?”
Bobby snorted, “Yeah, I know… Fergus.”
Crowley’s cheeks flared at hearing the name, and he silently open and closed his mouth a few times.
After a minute, he shook his head before starting to climb the stairs, “Alright then.”
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