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"Man's Worst Friend" - Supernatural - Crowley - PG
Hellminster Hound Show of course refers to Westminster Dog Show.
Man's Worst Friend
Supernatural. Crowley and his doggie. PG. Written for the cuddlefic meme. 5x21 coda.
Written for the prompt: Crowley cuddling with his hellhounds!! 404 words.
As if canceling the Hellminster Hound Show on account of the apocalypse weren't bad enough, it appears the aversion of aforementioned apocalypse lies upon the shoulders of two nincompoop brothers whose only talents are sitting pretty and getting their loved ones killed. (Crowley toyed with that idea, tricking Lucifer and the Winchesters into some kind of affectionate alliance. Surely then the law of averages would take over and the devil would kick the bucket any day. This is currently Contingency Plan #73950-C.) Also, what an uneventful apocalypse. They canceled Hellminster for this?
"We would've cleaned up, Asmodeus," Crowley sighs, patting his hellhound's head. "You and I. Ribbons for Best In Show to display on my mantle, and a two year supply of reaped sinners for you."
Asmodeus barks his agreement, and gazes up at Crowley with watery eyes full of love and infernal fire.
"Good boy." Crowley takes out the treat jar full of the choicest bits of damned soul. These are usually rewards and nothing to spoil Asmodeus with, but now that Hellminster is off, he saw no reason to be so disciplined about it. Fuck it; it's the end of the world! Who cares that this year they would have actually stood a chance at winning first place, now that Lilith and her intolerable Mr. Tibbles are out of the running? (Lilith, the smug twat. After Lilith won, she liked giving the other demons advice on how to take better care of their hellhounds, and Crowley would have liked to take care of Lilith's face with a rake.)
The Winchesters have long taken off for South Dakota, and it's just Crowley and Asmodeus here in this abandoned house, mulling over their next move. Crowley holds out a handful of soul, and Asmodeus gobbles it up then licks his hand. Then rises on hind legs and puts two paws on Crowley's chest, licking his face.
"Oh, honestly," Crowley mutters, but he's not exactly pushing Asmodeus out of the way. The hellhound whines, and Crowley scratches it behind one ear, which only aggravates the aggressive tail-wagging. "You are shameless," Crowley informs him.
Asmodeus barks again.
"Must you do that in my face?" Crowley sighs, and lets Asmodeus lick his nose before reciprocating with a hearty kiss to the hellhound's snout. "How you continue to trick me into calling you 'good boy' is beyond me," Crowley says, and reaches for the treat jar once more.
Man's Worst Friend
Supernatural. Crowley and his doggie. PG. Written for the cuddlefic meme. 5x21 coda.
Written for the prompt: Crowley cuddling with his hellhounds!! 404 words.
As if canceling the Hellminster Hound Show on account of the apocalypse weren't bad enough, it appears the aversion of aforementioned apocalypse lies upon the shoulders of two nincompoop brothers whose only talents are sitting pretty and getting their loved ones killed. (Crowley toyed with that idea, tricking Lucifer and the Winchesters into some kind of affectionate alliance. Surely then the law of averages would take over and the devil would kick the bucket any day. This is currently Contingency Plan #73950-C.) Also, what an uneventful apocalypse. They canceled Hellminster for this?
"We would've cleaned up, Asmodeus," Crowley sighs, patting his hellhound's head. "You and I. Ribbons for Best In Show to display on my mantle, and a two year supply of reaped sinners for you."
Asmodeus barks his agreement, and gazes up at Crowley with watery eyes full of love and infernal fire.
"Good boy." Crowley takes out the treat jar full of the choicest bits of damned soul. These are usually rewards and nothing to spoil Asmodeus with, but now that Hellminster is off, he saw no reason to be so disciplined about it. Fuck it; it's the end of the world! Who cares that this year they would have actually stood a chance at winning first place, now that Lilith and her intolerable Mr. Tibbles are out of the running? (Lilith, the smug twat. After Lilith won, she liked giving the other demons advice on how to take better care of their hellhounds, and Crowley would have liked to take care of Lilith's face with a rake.)
The Winchesters have long taken off for South Dakota, and it's just Crowley and Asmodeus here in this abandoned house, mulling over their next move. Crowley holds out a handful of soul, and Asmodeus gobbles it up then licks his hand. Then rises on hind legs and puts two paws on Crowley's chest, licking his face.
"Oh, honestly," Crowley mutters, but he's not exactly pushing Asmodeus out of the way. The hellhound whines, and Crowley scratches it behind one ear, which only aggravates the aggressive tail-wagging. "You are shameless," Crowley informs him.
Asmodeus barks again.
"Must you do that in my face?" Crowley sighs, and lets Asmodeus lick his nose before reciprocating with a hearty kiss to the hellhound's snout. "How you continue to trick me into calling you 'good boy' is beyond me," Crowley says, and reaches for the treat jar once more.
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In other words - this story is perfect!
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THAT is perfect. XD Thank you!
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This = WIN. I'm in love
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I love you.
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THIS MAKES MY TAIL WAG IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.
Adoooooorrrrrable.
& ffffff Lilith and Mr. Tibbles. I'll bet she decorated his collar with little bows of intentine.
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I'll bet she decorated his collar with little bows of intentine.
Of course! And Mr. Tibbles's chew toys are made from the ribs of the damned.
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"We would've cleaned up, Asmodeus," Crowley sighs, patting his hellhound's head. "You and I. Ribbons for Best In Show to display on my mantle, and a two year supply of reaped sinners for you."
:))))))))
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I luff all over your portrait of the King of the Crossroads. Luff luff. <3
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;) Thanks!
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