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don't let the door hit you

Summary:

Let it be known that Crowley doesn't like other Demons. But he hates Greater Demons.

Work Text:

Let it be known that Crowley doesn't like other Demons. But he hates Greater Demons.

The lot of them are egotistical bastards that let the power get to their head and use Hell as their little agency to sow discord or do menial tasks. Like finding an ancient book because they're bored, or convincing humans to build a temple in their name because they're bored, or finding their long-lost offspring because they're bored.

The last one is only half true when it comes to Asmodeus. The only Demon Crowley both hates and fears.

"I feel you're not being entirely truthful with me."

Crowley sighs, making sure it's as dramatic as it he can manage. "You'd just loiter around here longer if I lied. Sounds annoying." "Don't be a child. Where's my son?" "For Sat-I don't know where your spawn is, Asmodeus. You've asked me fifty thousand times, you lost him, you go find him!" Crowley grabs a decanter off a dusty shelf and pours the wine into a goblet, briefly admiring the aroma and recognizing it as a recent brew. "Go ask Beelzebub." Asmodeus chuckles darkly, his eyes seem to shine a bit brighter from where Crowley is standing. "Indulging in human creations? How truly devilish of you, Crowley."

Crowley casts an iron glare at the other Demon, feeling a tinge of something in the air lingering like a mist. His grip tightens around his goblet and he does a double take, putting it down. "Don't you dare. I am not one of your concubines to do as you please. Back off." "I only want-" "-And I don't have him. Never even met the kid, not that you'd let me. Go back to that Hellscape of yours."

Asmodeus does turn away. He knows he isn't going to get anything more out of this interaction, and Crowley feels the need to scrub at his skin when he whispers a quiet, "I'll be back." 

Crowley rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath and stalking over to close the door behind him. The brick condo breathes a little easier now that the embodiment of Lust and desire has gone, ironically. 

When a little head peeks out from behind a corner, eyes of molten gold, Crowley contemplates exactly what hes got himself into. 

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