Dedicated to the amazing Michelle, Fearlee , LeighAnnWallace, theanonsisters , Selvatori , EvilAngelTeamGabe , 27jaredjensen , Mars, Actractivlyhideous , Charlotte Willows and vampireluvr15 :DD Thank you so much for your fantabulistically awesome reviews! I really appreciate it! They totally made my week!

AN1: Lol, I've actually had this typed up about a week ago... but I haven't gotten around to posting it up... then this morning I got a review from vampireluvr15 that had me inspired to finally complete and post it... so... *huggles*

Again... so this is set sometime during Season 6... it IS slightly AU (since I haven't actually watched more than 6 episodes of S6 as of yet), but hopefully the OOC-ness is not too bad!

I actually never expected there to be Crowley / Cas –type of fics or fans… and this bunny was just my own little dreamland of yaoi, but I was really surprised to hear so many people liked it! It totally blew me away! LOL, who knew? ^.^

Disclaimer: I still don't own Supernatural... unfortunately. This is purely a fan-fic tribute to an awesome series.




An Attempt for Approval




Light was turning to dusk and the last rays of red afternoon glow seemed to stay longer today than the other days. Of course, Castiel reasoned to himself that the only reason it would seem that way was because of his retinal sensitivity and complete lack of energy.

Who knew that feeling weak was draining enough in itself?

Castiel sat, eyes closed for a few minutes, seemingly trying to fight off a migraine-attack. He's been hearing their voices for the past half an hour. They were searching for him, and if he stayed much longer... they might get suspicious.

"Are you having a conniption, Cas?" Crowley asked, strolling by the aforementioned man.

"The Winchester's are calling me," Castiel answered, automatically standing up. That only served to send him reeling and stumble sideways.

"Riiiight... " Crowley said sarcastically, grinning as the angel almost face-planted on the Persian rug. He watched with silent amusement for a few seconds as Castiel tried to find his footing, before finally kicking the angel's feet from out from under him. "Sit down."

Castiel flailed spastically, falling backwards until he finally was seated back on the couch, "You could have requested me to remain seated," he growled monotonously.

"I did.... oh, could I ask you something... demon to angel?" Crowley changed subjects offhandedly, looking something between uninterested and amused, taking another sip of whiskey, "Did you practice that voice of yours, or were you born a news anchor?"

"I fail to see the relevance of occupation to -"

"Never mind," Crowley huffed, quickly side-stepping Castiel's thundering sneeze just in time. The lights flickered in the room, the kitchen-light flashing on-and-off for a second. "... If this is going to happen every time you decide to rain mucus upon my carpet, I will have to either relocate you or dispose of you... "

A pair of blue eyes flicked towards him, his previous Holy-force-field fluttering back into place.

"Honestly, I thought you'd be able to discern sarcasm by now..." Crowley snapped, rolling his eyes.

The angel couldn't help but smile involuntarily at the demon's 'honest' line. A demon telling the truth to an angel. How fitting...

The smile faded though and was replaced by a stern, concentrated look, "I feel the medication working," Castiel said abruptly, taking in a deep breath to test the theory. For the most part, his sore throat and headache had subsided. The nausea had also, for the most part, settled. "I should leave."

Crowley waltzed over to his chair and sat down, "You should, but you're not going to," he said, grinning. "Right now you're weak and vulnerable... You have the whole damn brotherhood of Archangels after you and you are not exactly the Robert Pattison amongst demon realm either. If you're going to team up with me on this project, I need you healthy... and, for the most part, in one piece."

The demon snapped his fingers, waiting for his henchmen to arrive. He smiled calmly as a short guy, just under five-foot-five walk in, "Skye, be a doll and bring me a couple of pillows and blankets... you know... those things," Crowley said, waving his hand in a circle, "Oh, and some pretzels... the barbeque kind?"

The guy rolled his eyes, shuffling off while humming some obscure rock-song.

"And that, ladies and gentlemen is exactly why the human race deserve to be our slaves... " Crowley said, shaking his head with a sigh, "Who in the hell names their son, Skye?... Honestly. We'd be doing the world a favour."

The angel didn't protest, but by his frown, it was obvious he was unhappy about it.

A few minutes of semi-uncomfortable silence passed. At least, uncomfortable for Skye,who just walked in again. But, neither Castiel or Crowley seemed to be bothered by the atmosphere at all.

"Uh... this ... stuff?" Skye muttered, standing awkwardly with the items.

"The Holy man needs the fluffy items and I'll take those," Crowley said with a grin as he pointed to the pretzels.

The distribution of the items went over smoothly, but the grin on the young man's face couldn't be helped when he saw Castiel's stoic sitting position.

"Have you found purgatory yet?" Crowley said irritably, setting his whiskey glass down on the side table.

Skye shook his head. And, to that, Crowley's eyes flashed black, "You have something better to do than breathe my air, don't you?"

It didn't take long for the odd pair to be alone again, the crackling of the logs filling the silence. Crowley had taken to reading through his copy of the Art of War, whilst his guest still seemed to be stuck somewhere between getting-comfortable and I-should-get-the-hell-out-of-here. Strangely enough, it didn't bother either of them though. It almost felt like a ... homely ambience.

The angel sat awkwardly, the pillows and comforter still on his lap, trying to suppress his sniffling as best he could. Every few minutes he'd try to pass off his coughing as him just clearing his throat, but it never really worked. He covertly tried to wipe his nose on his sleeve, only to get caught in the act by a pair of inquisitive eyes. He wasn't sure if his vessel's personality made an appearance when he reacted unwillingly by smiling sheepishly.

"Want me to tuck you in there, sweetheart?" Crowley finally asked sarcastically, quirking an eyebrow.

It almost looked like Castiel contemplated the idea for a second before smiling back, "No... but, thank you.". And with that, he was gone. The pillows and comforter dropped to the couch.

"... You're welcome."






Thanks for reading!

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