Growley: Purgatory
“Hey.”
Crowley hangs his head and a small and pained laugh tumbles from his mouth,
“Hello Gabriel. How are you?”
The demon twists around and it is painful to even look at the angel.
The angel Castiel that is.
Bursting at the seams with souls from Purgatory.
And then there is Gabriel, whose voice pours from Castiel’s lips like a benediction even with the simple greeting and Crowley does not whether this is a wonderful happening or another thing to thing to add to his list of occurrences that make him want to commit mass genocide.
Probably the latter.
Castiel shrugs and his body slides in a Gabriel-like pose, shoulders loose and hands spreading, “Keeping well enough, bit noisy down in Purgatory but its fine. It’s fine.”
He goes to move forward, hand aiming for Crowley’s face but he draws it back and rubs at his knuckles, “You…You look good.”
Crowley rolls his eyes and tries to ignore how terribly sad this all is,
“Shut up Gabriel, we don’t have time for this. Please.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and holds up a hand, “I must get you into your vessel quickly.”
Castiel leans forward and grabs the outstretched hand, holding Crowley’s gaze for a moment as he says, “Its fine. I don’t need a vessel, just let it go okay. We’ve tried this before Crowley. Just let me go.” Crowley shakes his hand and gestures to the table behind him and Castiel’s eyes don’t flicker for a second over to it because Gabriel already knows his body is waiting.
Castiel swallows and Crowley wishes it was Gabriel’s Adams apple he was watching, Gabriel’s rough scratch of stubble as their mouths press together and Gabriel is not quite sure if it is normal for one of cry in these sorts of situations but he feels something hot and wet on his cheek anyway.
He leans back and rubs the heel of his hand into his eyes, and the sigh he gives sounds all too like Castiel’s, “My brother isn’t pleased we just did that in his body.”
Crowley lets a smirk curl around his mouth, “Cassy can deal with it.”
The demon is secretly pleased to hear Gabriel’s laughter bubbling up from the scrawny angel and they share a few more almost meaningful kisses, not quite like their usual full of bite and unbridled lust. Castiel lets his brother have his time with Crowley but is rather worried at the softness of what they are sharing and internally lets his brother know of this.
Gabriel responds with a, “I would do the same for you and Dean.” And Castiel doesn’t say much else about the matter.
They stand for a few minutes with each other, silently, until Crowley says slowly, “I think we should get you back into your body pet.” Castiel’s eyes dart away and his mouth presses into a hard line,
“I don’t…Crowley it’s not going to work.”
The demon is already half way to the table, purposefully not listening and he sets about drawing symbols in blood on Gabriel’s vessel, fingers lingering slightly on flesh he can still almost remember the warmth of.
He is disgusted by his own devotion to this angel.
Everything was so much easier when Gabriel was just a Trickster to him.
Dear God, he thinks and his stomach turns at the word of the father, what is wrong with me.
Castiel shambles over, “What will we do after I am returned to my vessel, hm? It’s not that fucking easy Crowley. It never was.
There’s going to be angels trying to kill me. It’s not going to safe; would you really risk my life again just so what, you get an easy fuck again?”
Crowley continues his work, “Pet, I am trying to work. Have a seat; you know I hate it when you waver around me.”
He swallows around his dry throat and pushes the angel away and can’t help but notice the head tilt Castiel gives him and he knows Gabriel is sulking for the moment.
Castiel hovers around Crowley’s back and says, in his usual voice, “My brother doesn’t want to be put back. He wants to die.”
Crowley grinds his teeth, “He has already died, what he thinks he wants is to be at peace. What he really wants is this.”
Castiel lays a hand on Crowley’s arm, not tightly enough to be meant as a restraining gesture, more as a gesture of affection,
“Stop. If not for him, but for yourself. You are not making the right choice here Crowley.”
Crowley’s hands tighten on Gabriel’s vessel’s arm and he misses when the body used to react to him. When Gabriel would almost shriek and yell at him to ‘quit it’. When he used to bruise.
One night Gabriel had visited him and Crowley recalls being angry. Furious, because of a silly little deal and he had been so rough and Gabriel hadn’t flinched, just let him get on with it and when he was finished the angel had sat cross legged on the bed, all bare skin and black and blue, and he had said, “I don’t mind. If it makes you feel better. I don’t mind.”
He had used the angel far too many times and he wondered if this was him paying for it.
Divine retribution.
He wipes a hand across his face and then shoves the metal pan containing the medical equipment across the room, breathing heavily.
He had refused to let it get to him if it hadn’t worked, and here he was; throwing a tantrum because he can’t get Gabriel back.
Gabriel who was nothing more than a tryst. Nothing more than something to be wasted and he had enjoyed the knowledge that a being of Hell held possession over the angel. He had stripped Gabriel of everything and Gabriel had still come back and had bared himself and not given one complaint and Crowley knows why.
He knows as Castiel’s eyes change and Gabriel is back and the angel presses his face into Crowley’s shoulder,
“It doesn’t matter but, if it makes you happy, I didn’t mind the fact you never wanted me for anything else. Hey, I’m a big boy; I can deal with stuff like that. But what I don’t want is you getting all beat up about it, my death wasn’t your fault. Nothing bad, well, too bad, that happened to me was your fault.”
Crowley is nodding and Castiel’s hands are against his back and they’re pressed as close as they can get with their clothes still on and he murmurs, “I kept your Vespa.”
Castiel laughs and the hair that tickles Crowley’s chin isn’t the dark honey he wants but he is coming to realise he can’t get what he wants right now. He strokes the hair either way, a gesture Gabriel enjoys and has always enjoyed.
The angel chuckles, “You hated that thing.”
Crowley huffs out a laugh, “I still bloody do. But I kept it all the same because as much as an eyesore, I thought you might want it back some day.”
He bites his lip as he awkwardly trails off before saying quietly, “You should probably go now.”
Gabriel doesn’t reply and for a moment Crowley really thinks he is gone but then,
Castiel is back a second later and Crowley watches as he wordlessly moves to Gabriel’s vessel and finishing the sigils,
he pushes Gabriel’s grace back into his vessel, a dumbstruck Crowley watching on as Gabriel sits up and gasps a little.
Voice cracked and strained from the months of being dead.
Castiel looks up at Crowley and when the demon begins to ask him ‘why’ the angel says, “I’ve come to see how much you need him.” Castiel brushes a hand over Gabriel’s forehead, “I think he might need you to.”
Crowley rushes forward and throws his overcoat over the angel, “Christ pet, you’re looking worse for wear.”
Castiel clamps a hand on Crowley’s shoulder, “No more bruises though. I’ll know.”
Crowley shakes himself away and glares, slipping back into his usual demon-like look, “Don’t presume you can tell me what I can and can’t do.”
Gabriel sits up a little and shakes his head, “Crowley shut the fuck up and help me to get up.”
The demon gives Castiel a last pointed look before grabbing Gabriel’s hand, “Carefully. If you hurt yourself now I’m not playing nurse.”
Gabriel snorts, “Shame. You have the legs for the uniform.” He pauses, “Where am I even going to go.”
Crowley rolls his eyes, supporting the angel around his hip, “Anywhere you want I suppose, you daft bugger.”
Gabriel shrugs, “I don’t really mind where I end up. Whatever makes you happy I guess.”
Crowley once again is all too worried by his blind devotion to Gabriel as he whisks them back home, his home.
Their home.
His own bed ready and waiting for the angel and he merely sits and watches in his chair as Gabriel spreads out across the king sized bed, snoring gently.
He smirks, if one can smirk in a way which there is no malice in the facial gesture, and sets about reading, waiting for the angel to wake up.
No more bruises, he thinks.
He is not going to waste the angel this time.
Crowley hangs his head and a small and pained laugh tumbles from his mouth,
“Hello Gabriel. How are you?”
The demon twists around and it is painful to even look at the angel.
The angel Castiel that is.
Bursting at the seams with souls from Purgatory.
And then there is Gabriel, whose voice pours from Castiel’s lips like a benediction even with the simple greeting and Crowley does not whether this is a wonderful happening or another thing to thing to add to his list of occurrences that make him want to commit mass genocide.
Probably the latter.
Castiel shrugs and his body slides in a Gabriel-like pose, shoulders loose and hands spreading, “Keeping well enough, bit noisy down in Purgatory but its fine. It’s fine.”
He goes to move forward, hand aiming for Crowley’s face but he draws it back and rubs at his knuckles, “You…You look good.”
Crowley rolls his eyes and tries to ignore how terribly sad this all is,
“Shut up Gabriel, we don’t have time for this. Please.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and holds up a hand, “I must get you into your vessel quickly.”
Castiel leans forward and grabs the outstretched hand, holding Crowley’s gaze for a moment as he says, “Its fine. I don’t need a vessel, just let it go okay. We’ve tried this before Crowley. Just let me go.” Crowley shakes his hand and gestures to the table behind him and Castiel’s eyes don’t flicker for a second over to it because Gabriel already knows his body is waiting.
Castiel swallows and Crowley wishes it was Gabriel’s Adams apple he was watching, Gabriel’s rough scratch of stubble as their mouths press together and Gabriel is not quite sure if it is normal for one of cry in these sorts of situations but he feels something hot and wet on his cheek anyway.
He leans back and rubs the heel of his hand into his eyes, and the sigh he gives sounds all too like Castiel’s, “My brother isn’t pleased we just did that in his body.”
Crowley lets a smirk curl around his mouth, “Cassy can deal with it.”
The demon is secretly pleased to hear Gabriel’s laughter bubbling up from the scrawny angel and they share a few more almost meaningful kisses, not quite like their usual full of bite and unbridled lust. Castiel lets his brother have his time with Crowley but is rather worried at the softness of what they are sharing and internally lets his brother know of this.
Gabriel responds with a, “I would do the same for you and Dean.” And Castiel doesn’t say much else about the matter.
They stand for a few minutes with each other, silently, until Crowley says slowly, “I think we should get you back into your body pet.” Castiel’s eyes dart away and his mouth presses into a hard line,
“I don’t…Crowley it’s not going to work.”
The demon is already half way to the table, purposefully not listening and he sets about drawing symbols in blood on Gabriel’s vessel, fingers lingering slightly on flesh he can still almost remember the warmth of.
He is disgusted by his own devotion to this angel.
Everything was so much easier when Gabriel was just a Trickster to him.
Dear God, he thinks and his stomach turns at the word of the father, what is wrong with me.
Castiel shambles over, “What will we do after I am returned to my vessel, hm? It’s not that fucking easy Crowley. It never was.
There’s going to be angels trying to kill me. It’s not going to safe; would you really risk my life again just so what, you get an easy fuck again?”
Crowley continues his work, “Pet, I am trying to work. Have a seat; you know I hate it when you waver around me.”
He swallows around his dry throat and pushes the angel away and can’t help but notice the head tilt Castiel gives him and he knows Gabriel is sulking for the moment.
Castiel hovers around Crowley’s back and says, in his usual voice, “My brother doesn’t want to be put back. He wants to die.”
Crowley grinds his teeth, “He has already died, what he thinks he wants is to be at peace. What he really wants is this.”
Castiel lays a hand on Crowley’s arm, not tightly enough to be meant as a restraining gesture, more as a gesture of affection,
“Stop. If not for him, but for yourself. You are not making the right choice here Crowley.”
Crowley’s hands tighten on Gabriel’s vessel’s arm and he misses when the body used to react to him. When Gabriel would almost shriek and yell at him to ‘quit it’. When he used to bruise.
One night Gabriel had visited him and Crowley recalls being angry. Furious, because of a silly little deal and he had been so rough and Gabriel hadn’t flinched, just let him get on with it and when he was finished the angel had sat cross legged on the bed, all bare skin and black and blue, and he had said, “I don’t mind. If it makes you feel better. I don’t mind.”
He had used the angel far too many times and he wondered if this was him paying for it.
Divine retribution.
He wipes a hand across his face and then shoves the metal pan containing the medical equipment across the room, breathing heavily.
He had refused to let it get to him if it hadn’t worked, and here he was; throwing a tantrum because he can’t get Gabriel back.
Gabriel who was nothing more than a tryst. Nothing more than something to be wasted and he had enjoyed the knowledge that a being of Hell held possession over the angel. He had stripped Gabriel of everything and Gabriel had still come back and had bared himself and not given one complaint and Crowley knows why.
He knows as Castiel’s eyes change and Gabriel is back and the angel presses his face into Crowley’s shoulder,
“It doesn’t matter but, if it makes you happy, I didn’t mind the fact you never wanted me for anything else. Hey, I’m a big boy; I can deal with stuff like that. But what I don’t want is you getting all beat up about it, my death wasn’t your fault. Nothing bad, well, too bad, that happened to me was your fault.”
Crowley is nodding and Castiel’s hands are against his back and they’re pressed as close as they can get with their clothes still on and he murmurs, “I kept your Vespa.”
Castiel laughs and the hair that tickles Crowley’s chin isn’t the dark honey he wants but he is coming to realise he can’t get what he wants right now. He strokes the hair either way, a gesture Gabriel enjoys and has always enjoyed.
The angel chuckles, “You hated that thing.”
Crowley huffs out a laugh, “I still bloody do. But I kept it all the same because as much as an eyesore, I thought you might want it back some day.”
He bites his lip as he awkwardly trails off before saying quietly, “You should probably go now.”
Gabriel doesn’t reply and for a moment Crowley really thinks he is gone but then,
Castiel is back a second later and Crowley watches as he wordlessly moves to Gabriel’s vessel and finishing the sigils,
he pushes Gabriel’s grace back into his vessel, a dumbstruck Crowley watching on as Gabriel sits up and gasps a little.
Voice cracked and strained from the months of being dead.
Castiel looks up at Crowley and when the demon begins to ask him ‘why’ the angel says, “I’ve come to see how much you need him.” Castiel brushes a hand over Gabriel’s forehead, “I think he might need you to.”
Crowley rushes forward and throws his overcoat over the angel, “Christ pet, you’re looking worse for wear.”
Castiel clamps a hand on Crowley’s shoulder, “No more bruises though. I’ll know.”
Crowley shakes himself away and glares, slipping back into his usual demon-like look, “Don’t presume you can tell me what I can and can’t do.”
Gabriel sits up a little and shakes his head, “Crowley shut the fuck up and help me to get up.”
The demon gives Castiel a last pointed look before grabbing Gabriel’s hand, “Carefully. If you hurt yourself now I’m not playing nurse.”
Gabriel snorts, “Shame. You have the legs for the uniform.” He pauses, “Where am I even going to go.”
Crowley rolls his eyes, supporting the angel around his hip, “Anywhere you want I suppose, you daft bugger.”
Gabriel shrugs, “I don’t really mind where I end up. Whatever makes you happy I guess.”
Crowley once again is all too worried by his blind devotion to Gabriel as he whisks them back home, his home.
Their home.
His own bed ready and waiting for the angel and he merely sits and watches in his chair as Gabriel spreads out across the king sized bed, snoring gently.
He smirks, if one can smirk in a way which there is no malice in the facial gesture, and sets about reading, waiting for the angel to wake up.
No more bruises, he thinks.
He is not going to waste the angel this time.