FILL, Team Castiel/Crowley, Patience

Date: 2013-10-22 01:14 am (UTC)
caramelkaren: (Default)
From: [personal profile] caramelkaren
(Making this one Crowstiel because, well, *points to team name* I write for this ship the best because I love this ship the best. And fluff. This is definitely their version of fluff.)

Crowley was drumming his fingers on the table in impatience. Why the hell had he allowed the angel (ex-angel he had to continue to remind himself) to cook him dinner? He didn’t even need to eat! It wasn’t like this was at all for his benefit. But Castiel had looked at him with those deep blue eyes, pleading him to let him cook for him. “Crowley, please, I hear this is considered romantic for humans to do. I want to try using something other than words to say that I love you.”

Damn human. Why did he always without fail give in to what he wanted?

“Cas, what is taking you so long?”

“Crowley, the recipe says it takes fifteen minutes prep time and an entire hour to bake. And that’s just the chicken. Not to mention, I’m only three minutes into making our dinner. Are you sure you want to sit at the table the whole time while you wait?”

Crowley groaned inwardly and wondered how in the world he was going to survive this. He couldn’t just take back the idea and decide he had something better to do, it might just shatter Castiel newly found feelings (not that he didn’t have feelings as an angel, they just seemed to be multiplied as a human, making them like new). “You know, I could just poof us up this meal.”

“No, there wouldn’t be any fun in that. Plus, this is helping me learn. I am getting better than my first foray into cooking. . .” That was a disaster apparently. Crowley didn’t see what was going on, he was still trapped in the dungeon at that point, but he could hear some sort of fire alarm going off. “. . . but I still need to work on my skills.”

“This is testing the patience I don’t have.”


“Good? Oh, you little tease! You want me to suffer?”

“No, not suffer. Learn.”

“Excuse me?”

Castiel turned around from the counter to face Crowley. “Learn,” he repeated. “You need to learn patience.”

“I’m a demon, it’s been hardwired into me to not have patience.”

“How much of Sam’s blood is still coursing through you? As long as it’s there, I think you have the capacity to change.”

“Nope, not gonna happen, Sparkles.”

“We’ll see,” Castiel said, smirking.

Castiel turned around to start coating the chicken with the crumb mixture he made (using Corn Flakes of all things – but it was in a cookbook of a television chef so it must be good). Crowley glared at Castiel thinking “I hate you” but not truly meaning it. No, no, he loved Castiel. He shouldn’t love him, not when the ex-angel infuriated him so much, but he did. And he had the sinking feeling that he always would love him. The bastard.

After another seemingly endless three minutes, Crowley realized that no, he couldn’t just sit around doing nothing at this table while the food prepared. He had to get up and do something. He began to wander around the bunker until he found the library, perusing through all the volumes and tomes that the Men of Letters had collected over the years. Okay, so he was a pretty good expert on all things creepy and crawly considering he spent so much time torturing and dissecting every single kind of monster he could get his hands on when searching for Purgatory, which also involved training other demons on how the hell to even find them (he realized, with the information he knew, he could probably be a hunter just as well, quite ironic considering he was one thing hunters, well, hunted). But reading information he already knew was better than lying around staring at the minute hand of the clock, willing it to move to each digit faster and faster. If he was ever going to be patient, he would have to distract his thoughts.

It was curled up with a copy of a book on vampires that Castiel found him. “Oh look, you haven’t killed yourself in agony yet.”

“I’m taking that you being out of the kitchen means the food is finished preparing?”

“Yes, it is. And you survived. See, you can learn a little patience.”

Fuck, the angel was corrupting him.

Crowley had to admit though, the food Castiel prepared was actually amazing. Especially considering it came straight out of a cookbook Rachel Ray made for children. In fact, it was so good, Crowley lost momentary control of his brain and said “You should cook for me more often, ducky.”

And with that he had sealed his fate.

It became a bi-weekly thing. Castiel would make dinner for him, and Crowley would have to patiently wait for it. The scary part? It was getting easier and easier for him to wait.

He was a demon! The King of Hell! It was already quite uncertain just how much of a hold on his empire he still had and how many demons had been swayed over to Abaddon’s side. If word got out that Crowley was displaying a virtue, he’d probably lose his crown.

Fuck you, Castiel. Fuck you.

But at the same time, he couldn’t help but wonder if this was all on purpose. He could’ve told Castiel to stop. That this whole cooking for someone who doesn’t even need to eat thing was ridiculous. But no. He let himself every other week wait for it. Almost as if he wanted to be a better person for Castiel.

It further reminded him that one day, he probably would have to make a choice: continue ruling Hell, or give it all up for a life with Cas. Something deep down told him that it would be impossible to do both. Crowley just didn’t believe that the demons would approve of a ruler who was so in love with an angel, no matter how fallen said angel was. He’d have to choose.

And that choice was slowly becoming obvious.
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