A piece of me

Chapter 1: Turning on

For some reason, I was feeling a little off today. But when you came along, you definitely turned me on.

After getting his soul back, Bobby didn't expect Crowley to come over any soon.

Maybe the hunter was not in mortal danger, but he didn't expect less than a sudden and painful strike as soon as the creature plotted a revenge.

He had outwitted not a common demon, after all, but the cunning King of Hell.

He got himself wondering (more than it was healthy) how much time Crowley needed to recover from the hit and come over with a fury – probably with fetid Hellhounds and a court of black-eyed minions to make sure the hunter had no way out.

(Thinking better, vanity may prevent a big show of power and, whatever happened, would be discreet but equally scarring.)

There was not really anything Bobby could do but reinforce the traps around the house, keep his rock salt guns close and wait, and that was what he did.

xxx

So, it was with surprise that he saw the demon materialize in his living room just two days after their renegotiation.

'Crowley', he greeted sarcastically, his hand already moving for the gun under the desk, 'Didn't expect to see Your Highness so soon'.

'Hello, Robert. It's always nice to know I'm missed', the demon greeted back, approaching in confident steps, 'I advise you to not go for any violent method in hopes of getting rid of me'.

'And why should I accept advise from you?'

'Because this is a business meeting', the demon stopped at the other side of the desk, hands on his pockets, 'I waited for the Winchesters to be clowns somewhere else to come and give you precious information regarding our new contract'.

'What are you talking about?', Bobby squinted, 'Our contract was cancelled'.

'Have I ever mentioned how engaging you are when you're at your grumpiest?', Crowley gave Bobby one of his I'm taking your clothes off in my mind right now and I want you to know it stares, 'I think you understand it would be entirely incoherent of me to give your soul back willingly, given such assets'.

The hunter gave up picking the gun and reclined in his chair.

Against his better judgement, he fussed with his cap, showing he had felt the hit.

He wondered how that demon always managed to make him bothered with cheap innuendo.

'What do you mean, Crowley?'

The King of Hell looked at his hands as if making sure his nails were polished enough, 'You know, Singer, you should read the contracts you sign'.

'I hope you're not spending my time bragging about me asking to keep the legs'.

'It would be beneath me', the demon still didn't look at him, 'I know how they mattered to you'.

Bobby tensed, 'You found a way to take them?'

'That would be completely out of character for me', Crowley frowned, now facing the human, 'I have the utmost respect for formal agreements and compromises'.

Bobby breathed in relief, believing the other's earnest tone, 'Then what?'

Crowley moved his right arm a bit and twisted his hand, quite similarly to what he had done two days ago.

Bobby jumped from his chair, 'What was that?!'

'I just made you… feel the clause I had to keep on you when you joined forces with your kids to rudely require your soul back'.

'What is it that you keep writing things on my junk?'

'I found it the proper place to be, given the contents', Crowley tilted his head, 'Have you realized that I just proved you're still contracted to me?'

'Yes, I got it', Bobby grunted.

'And you're not making a scene?', the demon frowned, genuinely surprised, 'You're more worried about me manipulating your genitals?'

The hunter rolled his eyes at the wording.

The demon lifted his brows, waiting for an explanation.

'I knew I was poking a beast who was a kind of genius when I decided to blackmail you', the hunter shrugged, 'There was the possibility of you finding a way around it, and it seems you did'.

Crowley blinked a few times, disconcerted.

He had just been praised.

Sincerely.

With, apparently, no second intentions.

'So', Bobby turned away and walked to his kitchen, almost pitying the creature who got into a loss when faced with something that even resembled a nicety, 'What does the thing written on my junk say?'

Crowley stayed in silence for some time.

The hunter decided to respect the moment and proceed to open his fridge to grab a beer.

He felt unnerved, knowing he was being watched with wary and analytical eyes. He could almost hear the gears going on in the demon's mind, inspecting all angles of the situation and trying to find out a hidden agenda in every gesture and word.

It must be tiresome to be like that all the time. Bobby was himself a paranoid bastard, but he had a soul – what meant he could feel a large array of emotions that made any excessive worries worth it. To a demon, staying 'alive' was just a matter of feeding your perversities while never leaving your guard down in fear that someone will be perverse to you, too.

Bobby gave up picking anything, closed the fridge with more force than necessary and turned back suddenly, intending to break the tension startling the demon.

The clad-in-black man didn't get startled like a human would, obviously – he just blinked some times and adjusted his tie, getting into fully businessman mode, 'The previous contract had a Section 3, called Of the possible benefits for Bobby Singer. For you to keep your legs I turned that section into the whole new contract', the demon sneered bitterly, 'It was more practical than rewriting everything, once I was under some pressure, to put it mildly'.

Bobby stopped in front of Crowley and sighed, gathering patience for the unnecessary whining, 'If I didn't know better I'd say you're admitting the trap worked enough to get you really bothered'.

The King just grinned like the cat who ate the cream.

The hunter repeated his previous request with forced patience, 'What does it say?'

'It is a very short clause, even if I had a considerable space to write on', the demon jiggled his brows, 'Congratulations, by the way'.

Bobby just rolled his eyes.

The demon cleared his throat, 'It states: Every time the demon Crowley decides to do something good to Robert Singer, the mentioned human is obliged to accept it. A refusal means all previous spontaneous gifts and favors from the aforementioned demon to the aforementioned human are automatically cancelled'.

Crowley finished speaking and waited.

They just faced each other for some time – the demon, serious and expectant; the hunter, frowning in deep thought.

'Let me see if I'm getting it right', Bobby raised a hand, 'You're telling me that when I demanded you to leave the part of the deal that was about my legs you pulled some small print stuff out of your ass and now I'm forced to accept things from you?', the hand lowered and the hunter made a very confused face, 'I'm still not seeing the catch here'.

Crowley huffed, 'You offend me, Robert. There is no small print stuff from my ass going on. I kept the text exactly as it was. Not my fault you were in such a hurry to separate me from your soul that you didn't bother to read it'.

Bobby took off his cap to pass his fingers through his hair, 'What do you mean separate? I had my soul with me all the time'.

'Yes, but while it was mine I could feel it', Crowley's eyes followed the hunter's hand in his hair as if it was something deeply interesting. Realizing he was staring, the demon squared his shoulders and turned to walk to the living room again, cautiously eyeing the ceiling and avoiding rugs that could be hiding demon traps, 'Every time I did something related to the contract I was able to feel your soul again'.

'You got a raise from giving my legs back', this time it was Bobby who followed the other, 'That's why you did it?'

The demon turned to the hunter with an intrigued face, 'Interesting choice of words', he smirked, 'Yes, I gave your legs back as a nice gesture in the heat of the moment, once it was allowed by the clause', Crowley shrugged, 'And, once you asked, yes, it gave me the thrills'.

'A demon having thrills from doing a good deed', Bobby squinted, 'Uhum'.

'What can I say?', Crowley opened his arms in a helpless gesture, 'You do things to me'.

A new thought occurred to Bobby, 'There's a part about me doing things for you, too?'

'Not a word', the demon made a definitive gesture, 'Not in the previous version, not in this one. I just recited the whole thing to you'.

Now the hunter crossed his arms over his chest, 'What do you gain from it?'

'From forcing you to accept favors from me?', Crowley grinned, suddenly excited, 'I don't know where to begin, Robert!'

'I have time', Bobby supported his back on his desk, 'Humor me'.

Crowley made an obvious effort to control his giddiness and started explaining, 'You are human, Robert, but not an ordinary one: you're a a-lot-above-the-average human, in all aspects humanity has any value to me', the demon was again looking at Bobby from head to toe as if measuring every part of his body.

'I'm blushing', the hunter snarled.

Crowley tilted his head and resumed, very serious, 'Your soul has the strength of a brilliant mind added to a spirit that recovered from losses that would have broken a common human', he approached until they were one step apart and positioned the palm of his hand right over the middle of Bobby's chest, not touching it by inches, 'Right now I'm not doing anything to you, and I can feel it pulsating with power'.

Bobby realized Crowley had said the last sentence while looking at his chest, as if he yearned to land his hand there.

Would it be possible that the contact with his soul had impressed the King of Hell in such a strong and good way?

If that was so, when had it happened, if both times Bobby summoned Crowley to ask for his soul back he had been mocked?

Well, thinking better, in the first time the demon had brought a hellhound and refused a drink, but at Bobby's swear that they were not done he answered saying something about not having it any other way. At the time, being furious, Bobby read it as evil self-assured teasing, but it could be a hint of interest.

In the second time, Crowley kind of stated he enjoyed talking to Bobby and just lost his patience when he thought the human had summoned him to ask again plainly, with no scheme or strategy.

The demon had been genuinely surprised, then, to find out Bobby had a checkmate move prepared.

The King was defeated, and the hunter may have made more of an impression than he had realized.

A positive impression, of all things.

The demon's eyes lifted and focused on Bobby's, interrupting his train of thought.

When they locked stares something obviously happened in the demon's insides.

It was like Crowley had to consciously control a reaction.

Before Bobby could ask what was going on, the demon lowered his arm and gave a step behind, his self-satisfied smirk reappearing like a mask, 'No matter how much you feel you ought to despise me, Robert, your deep ingrained humanity will bring on gratitude', his eyes hardened, 'You won't be able to erase from your mind that I'm good to you'.

'I'm not Pavlov's dog to drool at the sight of you'.

Crowley advanced in a blink of an eye to stand inside the other man's personal space, 'If I play my cards right, you are going to think of me as dependable', his eyes flickered to the lips in front of him, he licked his own and forced his eyes up, 'You're going to find out I'm a very pleasant partner'.

Bobby gulped down a strange nervousness that he supposed was related to the closeness and the obvious sexual undertones, 'You think my kind soul is going to fall for your crap and prevent me from killing you?'

Crowley's eyes were now on the moving throat in front of him, and he whispered, 'That we will find out together, pet'.

The hunter gulped down again.

It was almost as if he was teasing the demon.

Bobby lowered his head to hide his eyes with the cap for a moment, cleared his throat and prepared an answering glare, 'Isn't it too much work for little profit?'

Crowley stared at his lips again, 'Demons are never at the end of gratitude or trust or… longing…'

'My eyes are over here'.

The King of Hell was taken off guard, and he looked into Bobby's eyes without the usual mask.

If you didn't know what he was, you would say he was a man who craved for something he didn't really hope to get.

That was very out of character.

'You are my opportunity…', the demon spoke lowly, '…to have what no other demon ever had'.

Bobby was intrigued.

If demons didn't have souls, but the equivalent to a piece of charcoal, lacking empathy and any healthy joy, what could Crowley really feel if he eventually was the object of gratitude, trust or – God protect us! – longing?

He realized the confusion on that mind: Crowley was a powerful demon. He didn't have a real soul of his own, just a twisted thing, but he had been human and could feel other souls. He was more intelligent and aware than the common demon, what took him close enough to humanity to maybe miss some aspects of it.

And he was seizing the opportunity to force those things out of a human who he seemed to respect to some degree.

Well, that was messed up.

'Crowley', Bobby spoke as if talking to a child, 'You can't create those things. Not with gifts, not with nice gestures. Ingratitude and backstabbing may happen, no matter what you do or how good you are to someone'.

At the lack of a reaction, Bobby paused enough to hear if huge paws were invading his house.

Not picking any alarming noise, he felt safe to add, 'That's not how it works'.

Crowley's eyes flashed red, 'It's going to work between us'.

Bobby frowned.

Crowley frowned.

The demon had not said things would work for him, but between them. It implied he counted on Bobby to do his part – as if he really believed that particular human was different from others.

As if they somehow were a match.

'Being King doesn't entitle you to control other people's emotions', Bobby insisted, decided to put some sense in that head.

'Believe it if that makes you feel better, darling'.

Bobby felt his blood boil at the patronizing tone.

'That's very medieval', he snarled, 'Aren't you a man of the XVIIth century, Fergus?'

He drawled the name, just to add a bit more of sassiness.

Crowley visibly felt the hit.

His mask faltered for some moments, showing a myriad of surprisingly strong emotions.

Bobby couldn't read any of them, but he enjoyed the fact he was able to shake the King of Hell when he wanted to.

One more time, the demon controlled himself and smirked, 'You have no idea how sexy it is when you tease me like that', he raised a hand slowly, cautiously, towards the hunter's forearm, 'One of the many perks of this deal is being subjected to your witty mind', the hand advanced more, fingers stretched eagerly, 'I like being subjected when I can control the circumstances, just FYI'.

Bobby kept watching the hand.

It stopped just before touching him.

The human's breathing accelerated.

'You have a quite interesting effect on me, Singer', the demon spoke while observing the other man's forearm, just out of his touch, 'Your naughty behavior is incredibly charming', he tilted his head as if to see better the lines of muscles and hair, 'I promised myself I would go slow with you, but it is going to require a lot of restraint on my part'.

Bobby scoffed, 'Don't try to blame your sick ideas on me'.

Crowley's eyes met his, 'Let me remind you that you have nothing to lose', the pupils flashed red again, 'So, why don't you stop being stupid and let me do my magic?'

Before Bobby could answer, Crowley's hand advanced the inch that still lacked.