fic: Water under the bridge
title: Water under the bridge
words: 2.7k
summary: Sam is stubborn and calls in a construction crew to build a bridge to the opposite shore. Crowley & Bobby want to reunite them, for the good of the world.
a/n: written for the 7x06 reuniting meme for me & de-nugis's prompts!
Bobby was just back from the Target the next town over and fishing out his keys one-handed when the cabin door swung open.
"Well it's about time."
He froze up but then shouldered past Crowley with his arms full of cleaning supplies.
Crowley pivoted to watch him, hands spread. "What, no kiss?"
"Get the rest of the borax from the trunk and then we'll talk."
"Talk," Crowley scoffed, but it was affected and Bobby tugged down his hat and scowled to cover a smile. The devil you know....And he thought Crowley must have invented the smirk, it was so natural on his face. He made a well, what are you waiting for type of gesture and then expressed as much aloud because why and the hell not?
A literal second later, Crowley was leaning against the counter, sniffing at a tumbler to verify that it was clean, and all the borax and other powders and liquids that included it were stacked neatly against the far wall, while Bobby was still shoving his into a pile. And then Crowley was perched at the arm of the couch.
Bobby took a seat and accepted a glass of scotch with a trip of surprise; they'd never exactly been drinking buddies. "So let me guess? Problems with the Leviathan?"
Crowley studied his drink. "Yes, well. I extended a rather gracious offer, but they didn't want to play. And, from what I gather, they're almost criminally boring."
"So that's your stake in this? Grudge match between Hell and Purgatory?"
"No matter. The fact is, I can't do this alone and neither can you."
Bobby sipped and the stuff went molten as liquid gold rather than burning like the golden rays of sunshine in his throat. God damn. "We're doing fine, thanks."
"No," Crowley said. "You're not. I'm just man enough to admit my failures. We need to work fast, and I mean lightning. This little mess has spread far enough. Now where are our wayward orphans?"
"Got a call from Dean. There's been some sort of falling out."
"Color me surprised." Crowley tipped his glass in either direction, and said, "Well, no time like the present. Let's push things along a bit ourselves, shall we?"
Dean was biting into what was possibly the best cheese pizza he'd ever had this side of the Rockies.
"Holy cow," he muttered, only to stick his head out the window and yell through a bite, stringy cheese searing the roof of his mouth, "Sammy, I swear to god, you gotta try this! I don't even care how pissed you are, this is fantastic!" He shoved half the pizza slice in his mouth and then fanned his mouth, steam visible. "Whoo, that's hot."
Sam, for his part, barely even flinched. Dean watched him slump against the railing of the dock, leaning out over the water on his elbows. His hair was in his face, expression grim as he pulled out his phone. Dean felt the echo of anguish that he quickly shoveled over with resolve. He might not be able to do a lot of things, but he could wait.
He finished off half the pizza, then closed the box and shoved it in the passenger seat where grease was sure to soak through. They weren't in his baby, though, and this car was a piece of shit when it came down to it, so the seats were already stained. And besides, there was the chance that soon Sam would give in and come back to the car, and kid needed to eat or else he was going to be a real nightmare to drive with. Dean knew how he got.
The sun was on the horizon by that point, warbling and dipping below the edge of the lake in a neon half-circle. Ducks were treading the surface of the water and the sky overhead was purpled. Sam made a pretty picture, leaning there in his shirt and brooding like that, looking for all the world like he belonged on the cover of a Carver Edlund novel.
Dean tipped the seat back and watched through lowered lids as Sam dialed a number. He was fighting drifting off when Sam's half of the conversation floated his way.
"Yeah, how long would it take to build a bridge from one side of a lake to another? Oh yeah? No, money's no option. Yeah, I can hold."
Bobby got the text just as he and Crowley were cruising the perimeter of lake.
Construction crew here. I think he's serious, Bobby.
Bobby texted back: If you'd tell us where you were, I could maybe come talk some sense into him.
Almost immediately, his phone buzzed with a reply: No, me and Sammy gotta work this out on our own. followed a second later with, wait who is 'us'?
Bobby shut his phone and Crowley, riding passenger but seated in such a way so as to transform the ratty interior of Bobby's old junker into something more classic by proximity to his rich suit, noted, "They always were too bullheaded for their own good."
"Yeah, and what do you know about asking for help?"
"Oh believe me, Bobby. I've used nearly every demon and comparable humanoid as a stepping stone on my way to ruling Hell. I definitely take advantage of help when it's offered...or extracted. The brothers Winchester, on the other hand, are far too wrapped up in one another to seriously consider seeking outside resources."
"Hey, I help a damn lot, thank you very much."
"You know what I mean." Crowley's voice was strangely soothing. "In any case, they have proven themselves time and again too co-dependent and genetically obsessed for any real stake at world domination. Take a right here."
Bobby veered at the sudden instruction. They'd been circling the lake he'd narrowed their location down to, working off of vague, accidental details Dean had dropped in their conversation earlier that day, before Dean had stopped answering his calls. The standoff had to be around here somewhere.
When they pulled down the off-road, wheels crunching over gravel until he eased them into a parking lot which ran the edge of the dark water, Bobby sighed and said, "give me a break," under his breath.
Floodlights illuminated a short dock which was crawling with at least twenty construction workers, and a yellow forklift was parked beside a pile of long planks the size of a hill in the center. A small, sad, lump of a car sat, darkened and forgotten, at the edge of the activity, out of the penumbra.
Dean heard the roll of tires and twisted in his seat, taking his eyes off the construction site for the first time in half an hour. He got out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him and stalking over to the Mustang.
But then he grinned and ducked his head when Bobby stepped out and came to drag him into a hug. That flood of momentary relief passed, though. Dean stiffened in Bobby's arms as he watched Crowley step out of the passenger door.
"I told you not to come out here," Dean said, pulling away and reaching for his gun on instinct.
"Troubles in domestic bliss?" Crowley asked. "And by domestic, I do mean in-the-family." He winked.
"I will punch you in your fat face, I swear - Bobby, what the hell is he doing here?"
"All these men in tight shirts," Crowley noted. "Begs the question."
Dean was grinding his teeth, but he never could resist a jibe. "What question?"
"Were you not man enough?"
Dean rolled his eyes and made to get back in the car.
"Because all I see is Sam calling for a load of attractive men with jackhammers, while you try to lure him back with..." Crowley leaned in Dean's car window. "...three hour old pizza and a pony figurine."
Dean growled and Crowley held up his hands in a way that wasn't actually that placating. "Now, now, we're here to help! Aren't we, Bobby?"
"Bobby, seriously, why the hell is he here?"
Bobby took Dean by the shoulder. "Look, we need to team up on this Leviathan thing. And we need you and Sam."
"Sam walked away," Dean said. "Again."
Bobby rolled his eyes but put on his patient face. "I know it's hard, but you gotta want to get him back."
Dean felt a familiar burning in his eyes. "That's the problem. I get it, why he's leaving." But he took a careful step back when Bobby snapped.
"Whine, whine, whine! Listen to yourself sometime. You didn't even chase him and he's right there!"
"I'm not going to chase after him. I am respecting his space."
"Where did you pick up that bit of shitty advice? Doctor Phil? Sam's got a lot of stuff to work out, and you're the only one who can help him do it. Otherwise you're going to walk down the same road you always tread, and it's not the high one."
Bobby did have a point.
Crowley threw in his two cents, as well. "From where I'm standing, it looks like he's called in an entire construction team to build a bridge over a lake to get away from confrontation with you. If that isn't a declaration of big emotion, I don't know what is. Now, I have all manner of apology letter, flower, and exorbitant show of affection at my disposal, all you need is ask, so we can move this along. Make it snappy."
If there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that his and Sam's business stayed just that: their business. "No, this is between me and Sam."
Crowley chuckled and Bobby was looking at him pretty incredulously as well.
"Dammit, boy, everything the two of you do implodes so that it takes the rest of the world down with it. Have you learned anything?"
Dean started to walk away, to where he didn't know, but Bobby grabbed his arm. "No, you listen to me. That's your brother out there, trying to get away because he's scared and angry. I don't know about you, but when I feel like hell, I'd rather have a familiar face that I want to punch over a crew of pretty boy construction workers offering to bail me out any day."
"That's...actually very touching," Crowley said. "Is that from experience, or...."
Dean held up a hand. "Ok, Crowley, just stop. Because, ew." Sam had always wanted to ask Bobby how far things exactly went with Crowley, and the world seemed hell bent on throwing it their faces, but Dean would do everything in his power not to know. "Just, seriously. Like you said, lives are at stake."
He shot Bobby a look that he hoped conveyed censure and general annoyance, and Bobby just arched an unimpressed eyebrow. Dean turned and stormed down the length of the dock, past the invisible, 50 yard line marker he'd told himself not to cross, before he could give himself time to think about his actions.
A few of the crew members halted what they were doing to watch him walk by. One guy, who'd been posing with a two-by-four hoisted over a shoulder, quirked his lips in a knowing smile, but Dean ignored all of it and focused on his brother, who was standing, wind whipped and still clutching his laptop case - probably PTSD, poor kid - against the railing, talking to the foreman.
"Sam."
Sam's shoulders tightened, but he kept his head bowed over the clipboard the guy was holding out under a flashlight. "So how long do you think-"
"Sam."
Sam turned. Dean felt like they hadn't seen each other in years. Sam's expression was closed off and Dean felt hope shrivel and die in his chest.
He eyed the foreman, whose arms were bulging out of his t-shirt. "Uh, could you give us a second?"
The guy nodded but Sam held up a hand. "No, Dean." He gestured to the site. "Whatever you want to say to me, you can say in front of everyone."
All assembled were watching. A few of the workers nodded in support, one sipped a cup of coffee. Another guy was shushed when he tried to resume hammering.
"Uh," Dean said. He cleared his throat, and looked back to Sam, and said, "Yeah, okay." And then projected, because apparently they weren't being shy about this. "Um. I'm sorry about a lot of things, man."
Sam was unmoving, standing there under the harsh lights, frowning. He wanted an apology, Dean had plenty of those. He went for broke.
"I'm sorry I lied to you, I'm sorry it made you feel like shit and go and leave again."
There was a murmuring and the corners of Sam's mouth pulled downward.
Dean had to go on. "I wish to god I could make you understand how much this wasn't about hurting you. If I was going to kill that chick, I should have killed her kid, too. But I just couldn't do it. Stupid on my part-"
Sam dragged him away, whispering furiously, "What is wrong with you?"
Show apparently over, the construction workers instantly resumed hammering and milling about. Sam didn't move away and Dean kept going. "I know you're seeing this all symbolically, but believe me when I say, I'm fine with what a freak you are. Hell, I expect it. And you don't have the cleanest track record, either. We've got a lot to talk about, but just...just come back, man."
It all hit him now. If Sam wanted to, he could just leave. Nothing Dean could do about it. They were standing at the edge of a lake that Sam had tried to bridge just to escape this sort of thing, and here Dean was, forcing him into it. He could only hope raw, embarrassing emotion would save the day, yet again.
"Dean." Sam hadn't moved away. He looked like he was struggling to stay angry, but low blood sugar and Dean's hopeful, steady gaze were having a mollifying effect, chipping away at his defenses, at least for now.
Sam ducked in, almost like he was about to tell Dean a secret, even though they were off to one side, out of the light. Sam was breathing right against his mouth like he was about to give Dean words to say that could make things good again.
But before he could say what Dean needed to hear, there came a great stomping of footsteps.
Bobby let the park ranger pass because who was he to mess with the law? Also, he had a sneaking suspicion this would move things along.
He watched while the guy started railing against the construction crew, all of whom silently began packing up the equipment, and one of the men pointed in the direction of the real culprit who was apparently in an involved conversation by the railing, so involved the two were grabbing ahold of each other and doing a lot of eye-searching. Bobby'd read somewhere that communication was ninety percent nonverbal. He shrugged.
"This is a naturally protected pond!" he heard the ranger say. "You can't just build things over it."
"Well," Crowley said. "Looks like the standoff's been decided for them. I am entirely amused."
Dean walked quickly back to the cars, Sam hulking along behind him, looking contrite and pissed off.
"Well," Bobby said.
Crowley got down to business. "Look, under the circumstances, I can't afford to have my potential allies weakening themselves by separating over stupid personal issues."
Sam towered. "Hey!"
Dean turned on Crowley in solidarity. "This is not a stupid, personal issue."
Crowley rolled his eyes. "God be praised. Relationship counselor is not my favorite role, so now that you two have agreed on the mutual importance of one another's feelings, you are well on your way to declaring your undying devotion to each other, blah blah blah, kiss and make up you human morons, etcetera and so on. Let's go."
He stalked back to the Mustang.
"Well," Bobby said. It was dark but the boys seemed almost blushing but it was probably a trick of the eye. "You boys heard 'im."
They all stood around, shifting on their feet, juggling a bunch of emotions that should just be tossed by the wayside, save the fact they were them.
"So," Dean said. "Denny's?"
"Open all night," Bobby agreed. "Meet you there in twenty."
"Yeah," Sam said. "We'll be there. I should go thank the guys...."
And just like that, it was water under the bridge.
words: 2.7k
summary: Sam is stubborn and calls in a construction crew to build a bridge to the opposite shore. Crowley & Bobby want to reunite them, for the good of the world.
a/n: written for the 7x06 reuniting meme for me & de-nugis's prompts!
Bobby was just back from the Target the next town over and fishing out his keys one-handed when the cabin door swung open.
"Well it's about time."
He froze up but then shouldered past Crowley with his arms full of cleaning supplies.
Crowley pivoted to watch him, hands spread. "What, no kiss?"
"Get the rest of the borax from the trunk and then we'll talk."
"Talk," Crowley scoffed, but it was affected and Bobby tugged down his hat and scowled to cover a smile. The devil you know....And he thought Crowley must have invented the smirk, it was so natural on his face. He made a well, what are you waiting for type of gesture and then expressed as much aloud because why and the hell not?
A literal second later, Crowley was leaning against the counter, sniffing at a tumbler to verify that it was clean, and all the borax and other powders and liquids that included it were stacked neatly against the far wall, while Bobby was still shoving his into a pile. And then Crowley was perched at the arm of the couch.
Bobby took a seat and accepted a glass of scotch with a trip of surprise; they'd never exactly been drinking buddies. "So let me guess? Problems with the Leviathan?"
Crowley studied his drink. "Yes, well. I extended a rather gracious offer, but they didn't want to play. And, from what I gather, they're almost criminally boring."
"So that's your stake in this? Grudge match between Hell and Purgatory?"
"No matter. The fact is, I can't do this alone and neither can you."
Bobby sipped and the stuff went molten as liquid gold rather than burning like the golden rays of sunshine in his throat. God damn. "We're doing fine, thanks."
"No," Crowley said. "You're not. I'm just man enough to admit my failures. We need to work fast, and I mean lightning. This little mess has spread far enough. Now where are our wayward orphans?"
"Got a call from Dean. There's been some sort of falling out."
"Color me surprised." Crowley tipped his glass in either direction, and said, "Well, no time like the present. Let's push things along a bit ourselves, shall we?"
Dean was biting into what was possibly the best cheese pizza he'd ever had this side of the Rockies.
"Holy cow," he muttered, only to stick his head out the window and yell through a bite, stringy cheese searing the roof of his mouth, "Sammy, I swear to god, you gotta try this! I don't even care how pissed you are, this is fantastic!" He shoved half the pizza slice in his mouth and then fanned his mouth, steam visible. "Whoo, that's hot."
Sam, for his part, barely even flinched. Dean watched him slump against the railing of the dock, leaning out over the water on his elbows. His hair was in his face, expression grim as he pulled out his phone. Dean felt the echo of anguish that he quickly shoveled over with resolve. He might not be able to do a lot of things, but he could wait.
He finished off half the pizza, then closed the box and shoved it in the passenger seat where grease was sure to soak through. They weren't in his baby, though, and this car was a piece of shit when it came down to it, so the seats were already stained. And besides, there was the chance that soon Sam would give in and come back to the car, and kid needed to eat or else he was going to be a real nightmare to drive with. Dean knew how he got.
The sun was on the horizon by that point, warbling and dipping below the edge of the lake in a neon half-circle. Ducks were treading the surface of the water and the sky overhead was purpled. Sam made a pretty picture, leaning there in his shirt and brooding like that, looking for all the world like he belonged on the cover of a Carver Edlund novel.
Dean tipped the seat back and watched through lowered lids as Sam dialed a number. He was fighting drifting off when Sam's half of the conversation floated his way.
"Yeah, how long would it take to build a bridge from one side of a lake to another? Oh yeah? No, money's no option. Yeah, I can hold."
Bobby got the text just as he and Crowley were cruising the perimeter of lake.
Construction crew here. I think he's serious, Bobby.
Bobby texted back: If you'd tell us where you were, I could maybe come talk some sense into him.
Almost immediately, his phone buzzed with a reply: No, me and Sammy gotta work this out on our own. followed a second later with, wait who is 'us'?
Bobby shut his phone and Crowley, riding passenger but seated in such a way so as to transform the ratty interior of Bobby's old junker into something more classic by proximity to his rich suit, noted, "They always were too bullheaded for their own good."
"Yeah, and what do you know about asking for help?"
"Oh believe me, Bobby. I've used nearly every demon and comparable humanoid as a stepping stone on my way to ruling Hell. I definitely take advantage of help when it's offered...or extracted. The brothers Winchester, on the other hand, are far too wrapped up in one another to seriously consider seeking outside resources."
"Hey, I help a damn lot, thank you very much."
"You know what I mean." Crowley's voice was strangely soothing. "In any case, they have proven themselves time and again too co-dependent and genetically obsessed for any real stake at world domination. Take a right here."
Bobby veered at the sudden instruction. They'd been circling the lake he'd narrowed their location down to, working off of vague, accidental details Dean had dropped in their conversation earlier that day, before Dean had stopped answering his calls. The standoff had to be around here somewhere.
When they pulled down the off-road, wheels crunching over gravel until he eased them into a parking lot which ran the edge of the dark water, Bobby sighed and said, "give me a break," under his breath.
Floodlights illuminated a short dock which was crawling with at least twenty construction workers, and a yellow forklift was parked beside a pile of long planks the size of a hill in the center. A small, sad, lump of a car sat, darkened and forgotten, at the edge of the activity, out of the penumbra.
Dean heard the roll of tires and twisted in his seat, taking his eyes off the construction site for the first time in half an hour. He got out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him and stalking over to the Mustang.
But then he grinned and ducked his head when Bobby stepped out and came to drag him into a hug. That flood of momentary relief passed, though. Dean stiffened in Bobby's arms as he watched Crowley step out of the passenger door.
"I told you not to come out here," Dean said, pulling away and reaching for his gun on instinct.
"Troubles in domestic bliss?" Crowley asked. "And by domestic, I do mean in-the-family." He winked.
"I will punch you in your fat face, I swear - Bobby, what the hell is he doing here?"
"All these men in tight shirts," Crowley noted. "Begs the question."
Dean was grinding his teeth, but he never could resist a jibe. "What question?"
"Were you not man enough?"
Dean rolled his eyes and made to get back in the car.
"Because all I see is Sam calling for a load of attractive men with jackhammers, while you try to lure him back with..." Crowley leaned in Dean's car window. "...three hour old pizza and a pony figurine."
Dean growled and Crowley held up his hands in a way that wasn't actually that placating. "Now, now, we're here to help! Aren't we, Bobby?"
"Bobby, seriously, why the hell is he here?"
Bobby took Dean by the shoulder. "Look, we need to team up on this Leviathan thing. And we need you and Sam."
"Sam walked away," Dean said. "Again."
Bobby rolled his eyes but put on his patient face. "I know it's hard, but you gotta want to get him back."
Dean felt a familiar burning in his eyes. "That's the problem. I get it, why he's leaving." But he took a careful step back when Bobby snapped.
"Whine, whine, whine! Listen to yourself sometime. You didn't even chase him and he's right there!"
"I'm not going to chase after him. I am respecting his space."
"Where did you pick up that bit of shitty advice? Doctor Phil? Sam's got a lot of stuff to work out, and you're the only one who can help him do it. Otherwise you're going to walk down the same road you always tread, and it's not the high one."
Bobby did have a point.
Crowley threw in his two cents, as well. "From where I'm standing, it looks like he's called in an entire construction team to build a bridge over a lake to get away from confrontation with you. If that isn't a declaration of big emotion, I don't know what is. Now, I have all manner of apology letter, flower, and exorbitant show of affection at my disposal, all you need is ask, so we can move this along. Make it snappy."
If there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that his and Sam's business stayed just that: their business. "No, this is between me and Sam."
Crowley chuckled and Bobby was looking at him pretty incredulously as well.
"Dammit, boy, everything the two of you do implodes so that it takes the rest of the world down with it. Have you learned anything?"
Dean started to walk away, to where he didn't know, but Bobby grabbed his arm. "No, you listen to me. That's your brother out there, trying to get away because he's scared and angry. I don't know about you, but when I feel like hell, I'd rather have a familiar face that I want to punch over a crew of pretty boy construction workers offering to bail me out any day."
"That's...actually very touching," Crowley said. "Is that from experience, or...."
Dean held up a hand. "Ok, Crowley, just stop. Because, ew." Sam had always wanted to ask Bobby how far things exactly went with Crowley, and the world seemed hell bent on throwing it their faces, but Dean would do everything in his power not to know. "Just, seriously. Like you said, lives are at stake."
He shot Bobby a look that he hoped conveyed censure and general annoyance, and Bobby just arched an unimpressed eyebrow. Dean turned and stormed down the length of the dock, past the invisible, 50 yard line marker he'd told himself not to cross, before he could give himself time to think about his actions.
A few of the crew members halted what they were doing to watch him walk by. One guy, who'd been posing with a two-by-four hoisted over a shoulder, quirked his lips in a knowing smile, but Dean ignored all of it and focused on his brother, who was standing, wind whipped and still clutching his laptop case - probably PTSD, poor kid - against the railing, talking to the foreman.
"Sam."
Sam's shoulders tightened, but he kept his head bowed over the clipboard the guy was holding out under a flashlight. "So how long do you think-"
"Sam."
Sam turned. Dean felt like they hadn't seen each other in years. Sam's expression was closed off and Dean felt hope shrivel and die in his chest.
He eyed the foreman, whose arms were bulging out of his t-shirt. "Uh, could you give us a second?"
The guy nodded but Sam held up a hand. "No, Dean." He gestured to the site. "Whatever you want to say to me, you can say in front of everyone."
All assembled were watching. A few of the workers nodded in support, one sipped a cup of coffee. Another guy was shushed when he tried to resume hammering.
"Uh," Dean said. He cleared his throat, and looked back to Sam, and said, "Yeah, okay." And then projected, because apparently they weren't being shy about this. "Um. I'm sorry about a lot of things, man."
Sam was unmoving, standing there under the harsh lights, frowning. He wanted an apology, Dean had plenty of those. He went for broke.
"I'm sorry I lied to you, I'm sorry it made you feel like shit and go and leave again."
There was a murmuring and the corners of Sam's mouth pulled downward.
Dean had to go on. "I wish to god I could make you understand how much this wasn't about hurting you. If I was going to kill that chick, I should have killed her kid, too. But I just couldn't do it. Stupid on my part-"
Sam dragged him away, whispering furiously, "What is wrong with you?"
Show apparently over, the construction workers instantly resumed hammering and milling about. Sam didn't move away and Dean kept going. "I know you're seeing this all symbolically, but believe me when I say, I'm fine with what a freak you are. Hell, I expect it. And you don't have the cleanest track record, either. We've got a lot to talk about, but just...just come back, man."
It all hit him now. If Sam wanted to, he could just leave. Nothing Dean could do about it. They were standing at the edge of a lake that Sam had tried to bridge just to escape this sort of thing, and here Dean was, forcing him into it. He could only hope raw, embarrassing emotion would save the day, yet again.
"Dean." Sam hadn't moved away. He looked like he was struggling to stay angry, but low blood sugar and Dean's hopeful, steady gaze were having a mollifying effect, chipping away at his defenses, at least for now.
Sam ducked in, almost like he was about to tell Dean a secret, even though they were off to one side, out of the light. Sam was breathing right against his mouth like he was about to give Dean words to say that could make things good again.
But before he could say what Dean needed to hear, there came a great stomping of footsteps.
Bobby let the park ranger pass because who was he to mess with the law? Also, he had a sneaking suspicion this would move things along.
He watched while the guy started railing against the construction crew, all of whom silently began packing up the equipment, and one of the men pointed in the direction of the real culprit who was apparently in an involved conversation by the railing, so involved the two were grabbing ahold of each other and doing a lot of eye-searching. Bobby'd read somewhere that communication was ninety percent nonverbal. He shrugged.
"This is a naturally protected pond!" he heard the ranger say. "You can't just build things over it."
"Well," Crowley said. "Looks like the standoff's been decided for them. I am entirely amused."
Dean walked quickly back to the cars, Sam hulking along behind him, looking contrite and pissed off.
"Well," Bobby said.
Crowley got down to business. "Look, under the circumstances, I can't afford to have my potential allies weakening themselves by separating over stupid personal issues."
Sam towered. "Hey!"
Dean turned on Crowley in solidarity. "This is not a stupid, personal issue."
Crowley rolled his eyes. "God be praised. Relationship counselor is not my favorite role, so now that you two have agreed on the mutual importance of one another's feelings, you are well on your way to declaring your undying devotion to each other, blah blah blah, kiss and make up you human morons, etcetera and so on. Let's go."
He stalked back to the Mustang.
"Well," Bobby said. It was dark but the boys seemed almost blushing but it was probably a trick of the eye. "You boys heard 'im."
They all stood around, shifting on their feet, juggling a bunch of emotions that should just be tossed by the wayside, save the fact they were them.
"So," Dean said. "Denny's?"
"Open all night," Bobby agreed. "Meet you there in twenty."
"Yeah," Sam said. "We'll be there. I should go thank the guys...."
And just like that, it was water under the bridge.