Careful What You Wish For

Pocket Dialed

Less than 20 minutes earlier, Crowley's cell phone lit up and a familiar theme song rang from it. The trumpets and recalled images of a dancing cartoon moose never failed to brighten his day. Still, his brow furrowed as he pulled the phone from his pocket. What could big baby Winchester want from him?

"Moose! Been a while, what do you want?" his tone started cheerful and quickly turned annoyed.

Silence from the other end of the line. Crowley raised an eyebrow. Deep down, a seed of concern began to sprout.

"Sam?"

Still silence, but within a moment Crowley thought he could hear something faint. He cranked the volume on his phone, struggling to listen. Soon, the sounds became louder and clearer. It was Sam's voice, no doubt about that, and it was calling out for Castiel. The demon would have become more concerned that the lad was in trouble, but he always knew lust when he heard it. These were cries of passion.

He searched his thoughts for how and why he was getting this call. Was Castiel really there? Had Sam called him in some sort of strange attempt at exhibitionism? He could hardly imagine the angel screwing anyone but Dean. That thought sent a spike of jealousy through Crowley, which he was quickly distracted from when Sam's cries cut out. He strained to hear more. He hadn't realized it until the line was quiet, but he was actually enjoying Jolly Green's pleasure. Thankful he was currently alone, Crowley felt himself through his trousers. This was something that required urgent attention; he only hoped Sam would start up again and give him more fuel for his fantasy. Before he could make his way to a chair, his wish was granted. Sam began panting loudly, sucking air through his teeth and releasing frustrated, strained groans. This was very different from his earlier sounds, and much more intriguing to the demon.

"Crowley... fuck yes, fucking have it. Take my goddamned soul, just... oh fuck, don't stop." Sam's voice was clear from the other end of the line. Crowley's eyes widened and for the first time in ages he was really, truly shocked. Faster than he could actually think, Crowley pulled the phone from his ear and hit the "end call" button. His mind raced, his throat grew dry. What in Hell was that? He should just ignore it. He should just ignore it for now and taunt Sam about it later. He should go to Sam immediately and taunt him about it now. He should go to Sam immediately and watch him finish. He should go to Sam immediately and offer to join him. Bingo! He had a winner. This was too much, too good an opportunity. He wouldn't waste it alone with only his hand for company. Sam wanted him, and what could he do but oblige? In an instant, he was lounging in the overstuffed chair of Sam's motel room. The Winchester was oblivious.