The next time Sam stirs Crowley has positioned himself in front of the crappy TV, with a bottle of not absolutely awful whisky. One advantage Sam has over his brother, he muses, is superior taste, or just taste, in liquor.
Hunter’s senses kicking in Sam sense’s an unfamiliar body in his room, sitting up as quickly as his failing body will allow, Crowley is soon met with the familiar welcome of a shotgun barrel.
“And good evening to you to.” He mumbles before turning back to the TV. He actually found that documentary on Elephants when he hotwired the TV to get cable. The little ones were actually not totally detestable. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone… ever. He takes a large sip of whisky, revelling in the burn on the way down.
Sam’s face does an amazing twitch that manages to look pissed and confused all at the same time. The kids face is quite the chameleon. “You’re still here?”
“Yes. It seems you didn’t want to let me go just yet. If you wanted to go steady, you only had to ask. I like a girl without these theatrics though.”
Sam glances upwards to the ceiling, the large red devils trap circling the room and sighs before falling back into the bed. “Sorry. Give me a minute.”
“No rush, please take your time.”
There is a telling pause then: “Is that… are they elephants?”
Thankfully Crowley is saved the hassle of answering that by another coughing fit. It’s a deep grating cough that sounds like it comes from the kid’s feet. And loud, very loud. So loud he can’t here the commentary any more.
Sighing, he shoves to his feet and returns from the kitchen with a bottle of water.
Sam’s surprise at least stops the incessant coughing and he looks from the offered bottle to the demon and back again.
“It’s just water, don’t strain yourself.”
“Um… thanks?”
“You were making a racket.” Sam takes tentative sips, wary eyes still on Crowley as he retakes his perch on the opposite bed. “Well you look great.” He quips.
Sam’s hair is sticking up an a thousand different directions and there is dried drool on his chin. But his eyes are more focussed and the bruises beneath them less black.
“Shut up.” He mumbles, pushing himself to unsteady feet, “I just need to,” he waves at the drugs piled on the counter, “power up and I’ll be good. We’re doing this tonight.”
Crowley watches Sam fiddle with another bottle, pills this time. Before sighing in frustration and snatching the offending article.
“How is this my life”
“I’ll do it” Sam huffs trying to snatch it back but Crowley uses his highly advanced manoeuvring skills (he can walk in a straight line) to manoeuvre out of the beast’s way.
“No you won’t knowing my damned luck you’d brain yourself on the carpet. You just sit… I am the King of hell I am sure I can work out how to open a bottle of pills”
Sam starts mumbling something about instructions. But Crowley /does not/ read instructions. Bleeding a very small amount of demon juice into the seal he gives it a final tug… Scattering little white pills everywhere.
“Bravo.” Sam deadpans, punctuated with a cough.
“It’s open isn’t it?” Crowley snaps back, “Just pick one off the floor.”
The rest of the paraphernalia lined up on the counter look just as complicated, apart form one small tube with just a screw top. Picking it up Crowley easily twists off the cap, giving himself a pleased grin until he gets a whiff of the contents.
“Oh god what is that?”
“It’s vapour rub”
“Is it used to burn nostril hair?”
“No – you rub it, on your chest.”
Crowley looks at the foul smelling gunk and then to the broad chest in front of him. “Yeah – you’re on your own with that one.”
At least Sam catches the tub when Crowley throws it at him.
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An Unlikely Partnership Part 3
Date: 2012-05-26 07:55 pm (UTC)Hunter’s senses kicking in Sam sense’s an unfamiliar body in his room, sitting up as quickly as his failing body will allow, Crowley is soon met with the familiar welcome of a shotgun barrel.
“And good evening to you to.” He mumbles before turning back to the TV. He actually found that documentary on Elephants when he hotwired the TV to get cable. The little ones were actually not totally detestable. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone… ever. He takes a large sip of whisky, revelling in the burn on the way down.
Sam’s face does an amazing twitch that manages to look pissed and confused all at the same time. The kids face is quite the chameleon. “You’re still here?”
“Yes. It seems you didn’t want to let me go just yet. If you wanted to go steady, you only had to ask. I like a girl without these theatrics though.”
Sam glances upwards to the ceiling, the large red devils trap circling the room and sighs before falling back into the bed. “Sorry. Give me a minute.”
“No rush, please take your time.”
There is a telling pause then: “Is that… are they elephants?”
Thankfully Crowley is saved the hassle of answering that by another coughing fit. It’s a deep grating cough that sounds like it comes from the kid’s feet. And loud, very loud. So loud he can’t here the commentary any more.
Sighing, he shoves to his feet and returns from the kitchen with a bottle of water.
Sam’s surprise at least stops the incessant coughing and he looks from the offered bottle to the demon and back again.
“It’s just water, don’t strain yourself.”
“Um… thanks?”
“You were making a racket.” Sam takes tentative sips, wary eyes still on Crowley as he retakes his perch on the opposite bed. “Well you look great.” He quips.
Sam’s hair is sticking up an a thousand different directions and there is dried drool on his chin. But his eyes are more focussed and the bruises beneath them less black.
“Shut up.” He mumbles, pushing himself to unsteady feet, “I just need to,” he waves at the drugs piled on the counter, “power up and I’ll be good. We’re doing this tonight.”
Crowley watches Sam fiddle with another bottle, pills this time. Before sighing in frustration and snatching the offending article.
“How is this my life”
“I’ll do it” Sam huffs trying to snatch it back but Crowley uses his highly advanced manoeuvring skills (he can walk in a straight line) to manoeuvre out of the beast’s way.
“No you won’t knowing my damned luck you’d brain yourself on the carpet. You just sit… I am the King of hell I am sure I can work out how to open a bottle of pills”
Sam starts mumbling something about instructions. But Crowley /does not/ read instructions. Bleeding a very small amount of demon juice into the seal he gives it a final tug… Scattering little white pills everywhere.
“Bravo.” Sam deadpans, punctuated with a cough.
“It’s open isn’t it?” Crowley snaps back, “Just pick one off the floor.”
The rest of the paraphernalia lined up on the counter look just as complicated, apart form one small tube with just a screw top. Picking it up Crowley easily twists off the cap, giving himself a pleased grin until he gets a whiff of the contents.
“Oh god what is that?”
“It’s vapour rub”
“Is it used to burn nostril hair?”
“No – you rub it, on your chest.”
Crowley looks at the foul smelling gunk and then to the broad chest in front of him. “Yeah – you’re on your own with that one.”
At least Sam catches the tub when Crowley throws it at him.