Throwing this tiny little one shot into this story because, hey, it has Crowley in it.

Crowley crinkled his nose and winced. Oh, the agony... the slightest brush, the slightest movement, sent spikes of pain through his hot, tight face. This was the worst form of torture. He was dying, there was no way he would be able to put up with this much longer...

"Somehow, you don't even have to open your mouth to make my head hurt," Halt sighed from where he was stirring his pot of rabbit stew.

Crowley gave a low, rolling grumble. "It hurts."

Halt gave him a withered, sideways glare. "You're fine. It's just a sunburn."

"Says you!" The ginger replied miserably. "It's hot, and tight, and painful... And, and it's peeling!" He finished with a furious gesture to his cheek, which was indeed peeling rather impressively. "It's not fair. I don't understand why you didn't burn too!"

"It's one of the perks of not being a fair-faced ginger," Halt replied with a smirk, bringing the spoon up to taste his work.

Crowley brushed the statement away with a wave of his hand. "Fine. You just give off the impression that you want to murder everyone you look at, instead."

The dark haired Ranger rolled his eyes. "Someone's cranky."

Crowley sniffed dramatically. "I'm just saying, showing a little sympathy wouldn't kill you, Halt."

A beat passed before Halt replied, totally dead-pan, "Fine. I would like to join you in acknowledging the difficulties of your life."

Crowley groaned and moved a hand to smack his forehead before he thought better of the movement. "Never mind, never mind, just stop! You are the WORST at this comfort thing, you know that?"

Halt shrugged. "I had a suspicion." Several moments of silence passed before Halt spoke again, his tone losing the previous snark it had been exhibiting. "Like I said, it's just a sunburn. I get that it hurts, but it's not like it's going to feel this way forever."

Crowley gave his friend a half smile. "I know. But for now, can you just enable my misery for a while? At least until the peeling stops." Crowley shuddered. "It's disgusting."

"If you insist..."

"Is that stew ready yet?" Crowley asked, perking up slightly at both his friend's acceding and the thought of food.

"Just about." Halt suddenly stopped, a look of horror passing over his face. "Your face is peeling. Oh, gross. Don't get anywhere near this pot."

Several minutes later, Halt told himself that the smug remarks that came with dishing up Crowley's stew and serving it to him were worth keeping him on the other side of the camp fire.

Super short, super plotless. It's been a while since I've spent time with Halt and Crowley, so this happened. Hope it might have made you smile!

-TrustTheCloak