Catching Feelings (Crobby)

A stormy night

This scenario turned into a regularly occurrence. Crowley popped in, we drank, he vented about hell, sometimes I vented about hunts and other hunters, we chatted, played and when I had work to do, he helped occasionally. And I enjoyed the company. It had gotten quite lonely. Except of some calls from the hunter network no one cared. Since the Apocalypse and the disaster with Lucifer the boys hadn't shown up anymore. Sam only called to tell his adoptive father he was alive and that was it.

With a particularly bad mood Bobby looked outside the window and watched the rain purr down.

Even the storm that swept across South Dakota failed to portray his mood. So the alcohol was the only solution to drown it. It was two in the afternoon, but he decided that it was worth it. Dismissing the consequences the hunter made his way to his secret stash. So it was just him and some bottles of alcohol.

When the King of Hell zapped in sometime late in the afternoon, he was already dead drunk.

Crowley frowned at the sight. "What happened?"

Slurring Bobby tried to answer. "Nothing! No...nothing that's the problem."

The demon didn't really understand. Wasn't it a good thing that nothing happened? No news, no dead hunters. Pondering the meaning he decided that no matter the reasons, the hunter had enough booth. With a snap of his fingers all the bottled disappeared. The other man didn't seem to notice, he just stared angry at the nearest wall.

Weighting his options the demon thought about leaving the hunter to himself or to stay. A second look stirred something inside him. He didn't want Bobby to be alone in this state of mind, so he settled himself across from him in the armchair.

Maybe this was his chance to get some private information from the other. He was as closed up about his past as himself, but he wanted to know more about him. He did do his research at the beginning, but these scratched only the surface of the mystery that was Robert Steven "Bobby" Singer.

Poking the Hunter with questions went mostly fruitless. Even drunk he held his secrets. But after a while he didn't bring himself to care. Sometime during the evening, he went to the kitchen to fetch the drunken man a glass of water and some crackers he found in the cupboards. He argued with himself that it was just a measure to secure the trust and goodwill of the hunter, but he knew in the dark of his soul that he cared about the wellbeing of the other.

The hours passed and Bobby sobered up at least a bit but Crowley wondered how the hunter was even concisions when he found him. The alcohol level had to be pretty high for him to be this drunk for hours. That could have ended very badly for him... Worried he watched the man who retired himself in a lying position on the couch, arm across his eyes. He wasn't sure if he was asleep. Leaning forward he checked on the hunter. Overcome by a sudden desire he kissed him on the forehead.

When he registered what he had done he straightened up abruptly and wanted to leave but a hand held him back. Freezing in his motion he held his breath until he heard a quiet whisper.

"Don't go.... Stay...please..."

Slowly tuning around he looked at the sleepy man who was barely concisions all over. Gently he pealed the hand off and let a blanked appear. "Sorry luv, but I have to go..." Being sure the hunter was alright he vanished.