Who: Finley Melville and David Ryan What: Finley wants something; David seems like the easiest target. When: Backdated to Saturday evening, May 16th, 2015 Where: David’s dressing room ---> a restaurant in Los Angeles. Warnings: Heavy demonic flirting, Winchester sarcasm & talk of alliances
Making contact with the Ryans wasn’t precisely an invitation to drop in any time. In fact, their reaction had, for the most part, been the opposite of welcoming… rude, when he’d pulled their asses quite neatly out of the fire with that demon. And, no, Finley hadn’t orchestrated it simply to put them in his debt, though he couldn’t have planned it better if he’d tried. No, what Finley had done was take full advantage of a situation. It was, after all, his greatest skill.
Once Hannah had told him, in no uncertain terms, to stay away… Finley had been giving them their space, letting them realize that they owed him, needed him. After seeing her interact with Juno (and what reason could she have, after her comment about recognizing her from his phone, than some sort of threat), and her little warning about her brother, he’d really had no choice but to seek him out. David, the reincarnate of Dean, with whom Crowley had been… close. Too close, perhaps, but Finley wasn’t planning on letting David as close as Crowley had let Dean. The position Finley found himself in this time was unique, with the reincarnates of the Winchesters young, and far more gullible than the boys had ever been.
David was also easier to find, being that he was in the public eye most of the time. Finley had waited until after the Redo show was meant to be over before teleporting into what he’d convinced someone working backstage to tell him was David’s dressing room. It was possible, of course, that she’d lied… but Finley had turned the full force of his charm on her, and few people could stand up to that. “Knock knock. I do hope you’re decent…” If David wasn’t, Finley wouldn’t mind, of course. Not nearly so much as David would.
As usual, REDO had put on a good show. His muscles ached, body still radiating a little with heat left over from the adrenaline that had been steadily pumping through him for the last two hours or so. He didn’t even mind the calluses. It was the sort of high that David had only ever gotten from being on stage, music was the only thing that ever really made him light up, he’d been doing it for as long as he could remember. Definitely a healthier way of dealing with his and Hannah’s shitty home life than the coping methods that Dean and Sam gravitated to.
The rest of the band was still elsewhere backstage, most likely enjoying the attention from the adoring fans waiting to fawn all over them once the show was over. Usually David was out there with them, but today he’d made a beeline for the dressing rooms to splash some cold water on his face and put on a fresh shirt. His skin was still a little clammy from the way he’d sweat earlier and his hair where it was slightly longer in the front stuck a little to his forehead, but he was in much better shape than he had been just after finishing the set. Wasn’t like he had anyone to immediately impress anyway, so David wasn’t too concerned about his appearance while he decompressed post-show alone in the dressing room.
“Whoa-” Teleportation was soundless so he hadn’t heard Finley come in, whirling around with a start. That voice was already so familiar to him, and there was no mistaking it once David took in the full sight of Finley. Almost immediately, he felt a new wave of embarrassment wash over him regarding the series of blunders the man witnessed during David and Hannah’s sorry attempts at taking on their first demon, but he tried his best to hide it. “... Uh, yeah, well. If you’re looking for decent, you probably came to the wrong Winchester.” A wary pause. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for a groupie.”
“I’m fairly certain I came to exactly the right Winchester, actually.” Finley made a show of looking him up and down, then sighing and shaking his head. “Disappointingly decent, really. They don’t make you lose your shirt on stage to make all the little girls scream and swoon?” It was likely Finley had a very mistaken concept of what was typical of the sort of band that David belonged to. It was equally possible that, even if he followed them religiously, he’d have played the fool just to have an opening to tease David about it. He didn’t want the younger man to find his balance, that would take away Finley’s very real advantage. The more flustered David was, the more likely he was to back himself into a corner, and once he was there… Finley would have a much easier time getting precisely what he wanted out of him.
That he wasn’t completely certain what that was yet was of no great importance. He’d planned to set the Winchesters against Alessa, with the thought that they’d taken care of Abaddon once, they could do it again easily. David and Hannah weren’t ready to take on even a low level demon themselves, much less a Knight of Hell, but it was harder than he’d expected to walk away completely. After all, they weren’t there yet, but they had the potential to be so much more. So much greater than they were, and this time Finley could be there from the ground up, so to speak. Trusted, even, perhaps.
He smirked, leaned casually against a wall. “I believe that being a ‘groupie’ requires being a fan of your music. It isn’t to my taste. I’d still fuck the band, though.” Finley far preferred the way the word ‘fuck’ sounded in Crowley’s accept - an unexpected benefit. There was something sexier about it, he’d have to remember that the next time he was trying to pull. Not that he had to try that hard. He could have had the woman who told him where to find David after the show with a snap of his fingers, if he’d wanted to. He’d been tempted, but he could have sex any time. Wooing a Winchester, that was a special occasion, still. He was sure the shine would wear off eventually.
David’s initial impulse was to grin. Typical Dean Winchester (really, just typical guy), temporarily flattered by the attention before realization set in about where that attention was coming from. David had never exactly been an attention whore, persay, but he was a guy who was constantly putting himself in the spot light. Maybe not front and center, that was Owen’s job, but still. You had to love the attention even a little in order to keep doing it. That once over from Finley was hard to miss, though, and if David hadn’t already been holding onto the table behind him he might have actually wavered on his feet.
This still didn’t answer the question of just what he was doing here, and why he sounded exactly like Crowley. Was the whole accent thing something that reincarnates just adopted over time? Had he always spoken that way? If so, where the hell was he even from? He didn’t really act British, apart from sounding it. Was that even a British accent? Kinda sounded like a bunch of different things all rolled together into one. Like a melting pot of dripping sex appeal. And okay, that was definitely a weird thought he was keeping to himself. What the hell was wrong with him anyway? David blamed it on Dean, he made everything more confusing and Crowley was no exception, since despite the fact that Crowley was a demon they were sometimes allies verging on friends when they weren’t busy being enemies.
Was that why he was here? He must want something. David tried to remind himself that just because this guy’s reincarnate and Dean were sometimes allies, and Finley had literally saved his ass and Hannah’s from that demon, didn’t mean he should trust him. There was no telling who he was, apart from Crowley. Meg had actually sort of saved the Winchesters in the end, but Tali didn’t seem to want to do any saving this time around, not to mention Meg was sort of responsible for Ellen and Jo’s death so why should he trust that anyway? Why should he trust this guy, just because Crowley and Dean had been BFF’s during Dean’s demon days. It was Crowley’s fault Dean had gotten the Mark of Cain in the first place, wasn’t it?
… Oh, god. He hated Dean’s life. He really, really hated Dean’s life and how much more complicated it made his. David shook his head clear, trying to rid himself of all the confusion just in time to catch what Finley said and David got visibly uncomfortable before attempting to mask it with some good, old fashioned nonchalance. “Ahhhhhh - You’re definitely barking up the wrong tree, then. Sorry, Casanova. You should try the room next to mine.” He was joking, obviously. Owen was happily engaged. Also, something told him that wasn’t actually why Finley was here, which just made him more suspicious. “That it?”
David’s preening was amusing, but not as amusing as the discomfort that followed. That was, of course, a large part of the motivation behind everything Finley did, just as he was fairly certain it was for Crowley (not that the demon admitted it; he always had an excellent reason and it was always according to plan). David didn’t have the sort of practiced mask that Dean had, not yet. Looking closely enough, which he was, Finley could pick out the exact moment the younger man realized he had no clue why Finley was there. He didn’t bother hiding the smirk at his discomfort with Finley’s nonchalant implication that he would, in fact, have sex with David. It wasn’t untrue, of course; David was a good looking man, and turning their incipient partnership sexual would put David far more off-balance than it would Finley, clearly.
“Hm.” Finley made a show of considering the option, curled knuckles under his chin, index finger touching his lips as he glanced toward the ceiling. The same girl that had given him the location of David’s dressing room had told him where the others were, too, but he’d let David assume that he just knew. “Tempting. He does look like a good ride. Maybe later.” Even if David was straight, that didn’t discourage Finley as much as it likely should. He did enjoy making straight men question themselves; kiss a man well enough, it was bound to have an effect even if he hadn’t the slightest interest in men whatsoever. That David was Dean only helped; there was no denying Crowley’s fascination with Dean ran toward that sort of interest, unless you had the most delusional heteronormative worldview that Finley had ever had the misfortune of encountering.
“I’m hurt, David. Can’t I simply come to visit a new friend without an ulterior motive?” It was absolutely ridiculous, of course. Finley always had an ulterior motive. Of course David would try to take all the fun out of it by coming right out and asking. Finley, however, wasn’t going to give in that easily. No, of all the ways you could describe Finley, ‘easy’ wasn’t one of them at all. He’d practically made a profession out of being difficult, after all, and a very lucrative one, at that.
David definitely didn’t know why Finley was here. Or at least, not for sure. He could make some good guesses that might actually be fairly on the nose. This wasn’t the first time David had been propositioned in a dressing room, but he was pretty sure that wasn’t why Finley was here, despite the suggestive language he was using. Maybe he was, for all David knew. Crowley had always seemed kinda bent, so maybe the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree. It would actually be the first time David was outright propositioned by a dude, surprisingly enough. Like Dean, outwardly David seemed to exude heteronormativity in a way that put off most people who might think otherwise, even if his internal thoughts didn’t always quite match up. Nobody else could know that, and most of the time David didn’t really think anything of it either. Ignorance was bliss, or something. Mostly he was just ignorant. Even still, he was almost positive that wasn’t what Finley was here for. The guy had done them a favor, walking them through that exorcism and making sure they didn’t end up demon food, but Crowley didn’t do favors for nothing. No, if he wasn’t looking to kill them, David could bet that he was looking for something in return.
“You could, but would you?” David raised an eyebrow, willing to play along for the moment since Finley was clearly not gonna give him a straight answer. Again, not exactly unexpected coming from Crowley. David hadn’t been a reincarnate for terribly long, but he’d been one long enough to know that people didn’t always turn out like their reincarnates, for better or for worse, though more often than not they took on more traits than they left behind. Hell, he’d met a reincarnate of Jo Harvelle that was batshit crazy, and not in the kind of adorable way that Jo was. … Actually, the girl who was the reincarnate of Cas was also a little insane, in a way that reminded Dean a little too much of Becky and sometimes made David wonder if he should be worried about restraining orders, so maybe it was just a girl thing. He could just imagine Hannah smacking him hard for that thought. Whichever this guy qualified under, better or worse, he seemed to be every bit like Crowley, right down to the vague remarks and the thick accent, which David was still mentally puzzling over.
Outwardly, he raised his hands like he was surrendering and shrugged, playing it off with his own smirk though it was no match for the one on Finley’s face that kind of made him squirm a little, though he tried his best to hide it. Still, Finley brought up a good point. He might be new at this, but David wasn’t stupid enough to think that there wouldn’t be an ulterior motive somewhere, especially when it came to Crowley, King of Hell and Ulterior Motives. “Friends, is that what we are? I don’t know, that might be moving things a little too fast for me. I like to take it slow.”
Finley quirked an eyebrow, tilted his head consideringly. “Look at how well you know me already. I’ve got a good feeling about this relationship. When you know, you know.” It wasn’t, of course, difficult to spot the ulterior motives there, particularly if you were as familiar with Crowley as Dean certainly was. He wouldn’t, however, refrain from stooping to that level to put David off balance, if he must. Or if it was exceptionally amusing, which it was. This one bit back, which Finley rather enjoyed. It was all well and good to have someone cowed, but it got a bit boring. A good sign, as well, that David wouldn’t back down in the face of what needed to be done. What Finley wanted done, rather, as he supposed Hell was getting along just fine without him on the throne. That didn’t excuse the fact that it would be better if he was, in spite of what the typical demon with limited higher brain functions thought.
The surrender, paired as it was with a smirk, was satisfying. Finley enjoyed winning as much as he enjoyed the sparring itself. “Sorry, Squirrel. Forgot you were a classy lady. Should I have started with flowers?” All it took was a thought and then there was a bouquet in his hands, one he’d seen in the window at a florist’s on his way through town to the concert. He was certain that the proprietor was confused as to where it had gone, but that was none of his concern. He had a point to make, and that point was that he was willing to woo the Winchesters, if he needed to… or, at least, woo David. Crowley had always had far more luck with Dean, and if he wasn’t mistaken then David was far more like his reincarnate than either of them truly would want to think. He held the flowers, delicate pink roses and lacy baby’s breath, out to David, smirk still firmly in place.
“Mind you, I prefer the sort of girl who doesn’t mind taking off her clothes on the first date, but I’ll make an exception for you.” The flirting was a bit outrageous, even for Finley, but David did make it so easy… directions to his bandmate’s dressing room aside. He’d daresay David might have even been a bit offended if he had taken him up on that particular bit of advice. It may have been worth it, seeing his face, even if Finley’s interest in the band was limited to this one particular member and his potential to be exceptionally useful. Perhaps another time, as he had a feeling it would take him longer to woo David than he’d normally invest in someone he wasn’t going to make any money off of.
David didn’t feel like he already knew him well, but maybe that was just due to the man’s own knack for being unpredictable that David wasn’t used to yet. It was also true that he actually didn’t know him well, though, not beyond his own name and who his reincarnate was, and the fact that he’d conveniently shown up in the knick of time to save them from a truck driving, hillbilly demon. Apart from Crowley, David didn’t know what Finley’s motivations were, if any. He didn’t know if the guy was worse than Crowley, better than Crowley, joyfully balancing a neutrality somewhere in between. He didn’t even know how old the guy was, though he looked not much older than David. Couldn’t exactly base it off that, though, his caretaker had told David that there were reincarnates out there who were basically immortal, or something close. Since demons sort of fit into that category of sticking around forever unless they were permanently killed, could Finley be much older than he looked? Was it possible that he’d been around for centuries, like Crowley?
If so, the guy looked good for being centuries old. Dude. David nearly cringed at Dean’s very vocal protest inside his head. Stop thinking things like that, it’s weird. His reaction nearly made David laugh, though he bit it back, mostly so he wouldn’t have to explain to the demon in front of him why he was laughing. Dean’s machoism to the point of homophobia wasn’t something that David really shared, he didn’t see anything wrong with noticing how another dude looked, but it would be embarrassing to admit out loud. While being referred to as ‘a lady’ didn’t necessarily offend his delicate male sensibilities either, David still found himself squirming a little. Mostly because of the way Finley was looking at him, like he was looking through him, in a way that David felt kinda naked. Finley was clearly unapologetic about it, like most things, David (probably rightly) assumed. So yeah, if he ‘knew’ Finley better at all, right now it was largely based off some well placed assumptions, and his own determination and Winchester sized stubbornness not to back down no matter what Finley threw at him. … Even if what he threw at him was actual flowers.
David gaped a little. He couldn’t help it, since that was the last thing he’d been expecting. He could handle the ‘lady’ comments and even being called Squirrel, since Crowley had a certain fondness for nicknames when it came to the Winchesters and ‘Squirrel’ had been his main affection for Dean. It didn’t seem to bother Dean much either, but maybe he was just used to Crowley being Crowley. Still, David was at a loss, despite initially bantering back. He wasn’t sure what to do other than laugh it off and awkwardly grab for the flowers, aware of the intensity to which the flirting had already escalated to and said, half joking and a little defensively, “Hey, man, don’t objectify me.” After only a second’s pause, he pointed the bouquet of flowers back at Finley, like one might point a sword when they were ready to start sparring again and narrowed his eyes. “The flowers are a nice touch, but if you want me to put out on a first date, you gotta at least buy me dinner first. Just good manners.”
“Have you even seen yourself on stage? You’re just begging to be… objectified.” Really, Finley had no idea. He hadn’t watched the concert, but he could only assume. Even if he was wrong… well, it would make David question himself, at the least, and whether he was or was not presenting himself as a particularly hot piece of meat on stage. If Finley was truly lucky, it would make David question himself during performances, at least for the space of a few. All with one little not quite lie. What could he say, he had a gift. And, as David had surmised, he was in fact completely and utterly unapologetic about it.
Ah, and there David went, raising the stakes in a game he hadn’t quite grasped the rules of. How very Winchester of him. “Playing hard to get? I can respect that, darling. It keeps it interesting.” Finley was having far more fun than he’d even anticipated, and he’d expected this to be more entertainment than he’d had the chance to see for a long while. All that work sometimes left him without adequate time to play. David was just that little bit more receptive to Finley’s flirting than he’d expected, given Dean and Crowley’s experiences with him. It didn’t make him what Finley would consider actually receptive, of course, but it gave him far more opportunities to push the limits and see how far he could take the game before David was too uncomfortable to continue. Vaguely, he realized that pushing as far as he could go might not be the best idea, when dealing with someone he was trying to recruit to his side, but he silenced that little voice of reason as promptly as he could. After all, he and Crowley both got a bit of a thrill out of it, flirting with someone as staunchly heterosexual as Dean Winchester (and, one could assume, David Ryan) and getting away with it. If, for Crowley, it was more personal than that… well, Finley wouldn’t judge. Dean was a fine hunk of man.
So, then, David had raised him in this little game. Finley’s smirk didn’t falter, and he reached out to wrap a hand around the wrist of the hand David held the flowers with, taking blatant advantage of the positioning. “Dinner it is.” He’d no sooner said the words than they were in front of a restaurant. He hadn’t bothered to be discreet; the people on the sidewalk near them stumbled back, staring at the two men who had appeared out of thin air. Finley paid them no attention. It was a rather more complex world that they were living in than most of these people had experienced, but reincarnates had been on the news enough that really, if they were surprised by strange goings on in front of them, they had only their own naivety to blame.
The restaurant was nice. Exceptionally nice, actually. It wouldn’t have been out of Finley’s price range, regardless, but he’d chosen it for a reason. In his line of work (both of them, in fact), you ended up with some rather interesting favors owed to you, over the years. This particular one had proved far more useful than he’d even anticipated, when he made the bargain. He looked at David, one eyebrow still cocked up toward his hairline. “I trust this meets your expectations for dinner. Never let it be said that I can’t deliver.”
David actually knew how he acted on stage, or at least, he knew how the fans received it. Owen was the real show off, REDO’s bassist was more of the strong, silent type just upstage who made the most eye contact with fans. Lots of winking and grinning while he played, that sort of thing. There were entire fan sites dedicated to David’s smile, which thoroughly creeped him out, but he’d never really thought of it like he was asking for it. That was a strange concept, an entirely sexist one that was usually reserved for women. Obviously not one he agreed with, he wasn’t that big of a douche, but he’d also never heard it in reference to him or any other man. So, it struck a weird chord, though it didn’t full derail him. Just made him consider for a second, how that point of view could resonate with someone like Finley. Also David was pretty sure the guy was just fucking with him anyway, along with this entire interaction. He may not know Finley at all, but he knew when someone was fucking with him.
He didn’t have a chance to make a proper retort, though he had one. Something along the lines of ‘No means no, not playing hard to get,’ but before he knew it, Finley’s hand was on him. He didn’t even have time to ponder over the fact that he even said ‘darling’ like Crowley did, and seriously this was just too weird, and David was about to utter a protest as Finley’s hand wrapped around his wrist but before he could, they were … not in Kansas anymore. David blinked, immediately disoriented as his mind attempted to process the abrupt change in scenery, recognizing instantly that they were no longer in his dressing room but out on the street somewhere, and he couldn’t immediately put the pieces together out of sheer shock.
“Dude!” David stumbled back a step, still a little off balance after the short, but unexpected trip, pulling his wrist out and barely noticing the flowers dropping to the ground or the reactions of the people close by that had definitely noticed two men appearing out of thin air. If David had noticed them, he would have empathized with their shock, since he was currently feeling something very similar. “A little warning before you do that might be nice!” Not that he actually expected Finley to warn him before he did something like that, but he was still getting over the surprise of it, feeling a little light headed and panicked before he firmly shook it off and attempted an actual look at their surroundings. “Just… holy crap. Where the hell are we?”
“A restaurant. I’d assumed you would be able to identify it as such from the offer of dinner, my apologies.” Oh, Finley knew what he meant, but he had no interest in divulging where in the world they actually were, though the fact that the people around them were speaking English would narrow it down, and the accent might give it away entirely. He doubted David actually would stop to think about it, however, and hoped that the chance to continue railing at him about the rudeness of teleporting him without warning or permission (and really, what did David expect? He was bloody Crowley) would have the younger man following him into the restaurant without thinking about that part, either.
Once inside, he greeted the maitre d’ with his most charming smile, the same one that had gotten him the location of David’s dressing room. “Finley Melville. I believe you’ll find you have a table for me and my guest.” For the most part, of course, the place required reservations. Thanks to his little bargain, Finley’s reservation was considered permanent. Showing up out of the blue wouldn’t matter, nor would the fact that David’s attire was most certainly not up to the standards of the dress code for the establishment. As he expected, the maitre d’ flipped through the reservations, then found where, precisely, his name was on the list. Her eyes widened, and she murmured a quick, “Just a moment, Mr. Melville.”
Finley suspected they had to clear out a table; any guilt he might have felt over that was overwhelmed entirely by the fact that he was certainly doing very near the last thing that David had likely expected, when he’d made that little taunt about dinner. He didn’t expect the young man to be blown away by the opulence of the place, or the meal itself, but the unpredictability of it all… yes, he anticipated that continuing to have the desired effect, and he stole a glance at David as they waited, just to check.
Finley’s flippancy about the whole thing made David initially pissed, considering this probably constituted kidnapping (except for the fact that David wasn’t your typical, entirely unwilling case), but the anger didn’t last long. He was still in enough of a shock from the sudden realization that he’d been teleported that things hadn’t fully registered for him yet, but the fact that Dean was as cool as a cucumber helped him from completely freaking out. Dean had lost count of the number of times he’d been taken on unexpected joyrides like that, apparently that was just one of the many things to expect when you ran with angels and demons for a living. It was entirely possible that David still hadn’t fully realized that this was his life yet, either.
“Guessing the definition of consent is a little more of a mystery to you,” David grumbled, though he wasn’t necessarily surprised by that, considering. Demon. Still, he was disoriented enough and completely lost as to where they were that he actually followed Finley into the restaurant, like a lost and confused puppy latching onto the most familiar, available thing. If nothing else but because until he figured out where he was, Finley was literally the only potential threat he was aware of, and at the moment at least this one didn’t feel very life threatening. Better to stick with the devil you know, right? At least for the moment, David could get down with that way of thinking. Besides. He was actually kind of hungry, after that show, but he wasn’t about to openly admit that just yet. He had been mostly joking about dinner.
Once they were inside David was instantly aware of how inappropriately dressed he was. Not that he normally cared about stuff like that, but he also didn’t usually make a habit of stepping foot inside places like this to force him to care. As it was, he stuck out like a sore thumb, but nobody seemed to be outwardly offended. After the reaction to Finley from the maitre d’, David had to assume it was because of the company he was currently keeping, and now he had something else to be insanely curious about when it came to his ‘new friend’. Seriously, who was this guy? David was so busy staring open mouthed and wide eyed at the exchange that it took him a second to notice Finley was looking at him, and he forcibly shut his mouth to try and act casual. Obviously it wasn’t working. “... Think I might be a little over dressed here.”
Finley snorted at the mention of consent. "Do I look like a bloody angel? Demons don't need consent." Of course, that was just for taking a vessel. Angels could be real jerks about railroading your decisions for you the rest of the time, from what Finley knew. Thinking your decisions were always for the greater good gave you a real superiority complex, and made that bit about free will seem less important. As for Finley, he knew he was a controlling, manipulative jerk, and he took great pride in it. To hell with the greater good, Finley's highest priority was Finley, and if that paid off for someone else all for the better, they would owe him.
The dress code hadn’t phased Finley, of course, and he was slightly surprised David had even noticed. He responded, of course, with another once over of the younger man, and a leer. "I imagine no one would object if you wanted to slip into something more comfortable." Immediately, he held up his hands defensively. "I know, I know. No objectifying on the first date. I'll try harder to restrain myself." That, of course, was a lie. He did, however, bite back a suggestion that David could restrain him instead. That offer brought too many secondhand memories of manacles, Devil's Traps, and addiction to mind. It still felt, sometimes, as though Crowley had never fully recovered from being almost human once more.
It didn’t take long for them to make a table available for Finley, and he was very near impressed. They were led to a small table for two at the back of the restaurant, the most private table in the entire building. It was Finley's usual spot, in fact, for when he brought someone to the restaurant to discuss business. He nodded and pulled David's chair back from the table for him with his mind, then sat in his own preferred seat. "Menus, please. My friend has never been here before." Finley, however, knew exactly what he would have. He did come here for business quite often.
At the obvious once over and the ‘slipping into something more comfortable’ remark, David just gave Finley a look, something that clearly said ‘don’t push your luck, buddy’. Then David had to pause for a moment and silently ponder over the already fast growing familiarity of their exchanges. Was he letting himself get too friendly with Finley? Even the most basic of their banter that lacked any actual flirtation from the demon also lacked any real animosity towards him from David. Should he be more suspicious than he actually was? Probably. but David wasn’t Dean. He knew second-hand why it was a bad idea to trust demons, or do any dealings with them at all, but knowing second-hand was still way different from knowing from your own experience. That was the real problem, David’s experience was still very limited, and the nature of Dean’s relationship to Crowley confused him. One minute the Winchesters were trying to kill him, the next, they were working with him, and Crowley had often flat out refused to actually kill Sam and Dean. What did that make them, exactly? ‘Friends’ still seemed like a pretty strong word.
Honestly, David was a little relieved Finley wasn’t an angel. From what he knew of angels from Dean’s memories, they seemed like even bigger dicks than demons half the time. Demons lied, sure, but angels were a whole other level of jerk when it came to free will. Then again, common sense was telling him he shouldn’t be more relieved that Finley was Crowley, but as we already discussed: Confusion. And also maybe a little of David’s ego working against him, because hey, he didn’t exactly mind all the attention, at least not until Finley took it too far. What did you expect? David was a musician, not to mention the reincarnate of Dean Winchester. Sometimes flattery really was their achilles heel.
He dutifully followed Finley to the table, with nowhere else to go, and jumped a little when the chair moved back without anyone’s hands on it. Right, demons could do that. Just another thing about Finley that made him a real threat if he chose to be, and David wasn’t exactly the most finely tuned hunter yet so the fight would hardly be fair. He sat down in the chair awkwardly. “Uh. Thanks.” The person who brought them menus nodded before promptly leaving them alone and David had the chance to look around, realizing just how secluded and private their table was and raised an eyebrow. “This where you bring all your hot dates or am I just special?”
“Jealous, darling?” Finley arched an eyebrow at him, settling back to look over his own menu, just to have something to do with his hands. In fact, he might just try something new, this time. Likely not, but a quick look through his options wouldn’t hurt anything. Just knowing that all those choices were out there made sticking with the old familiar favorites seem a bit more special. He didn’t care to try to understand the logic of it, really. It wasn’t that Finley was a creature of habit, it was that he had very discerning tastes. That was it. And clearly he was going a little crazy, if he was distracting himself with an inner monologue about his choice of dinner options when he was supposed to be focusing on wooing David Ryan to his side of the inevitable Battle Royale for Hell. “Don’t worry, none of my other dates have ever made me work this hard. You’re a very special snowflake, clearly.”
It even had the benefit of being true; Finley had only ever brought business partners to this place. That wasn’t to say he didn’t fuck his business partners, sometimes, but only after business was completed. The sex was icing on the cake, and Finley had never considered them dates, though he wasn’t speaking for the people he’d brought to his intimate business dinners.
A sommelier dropped by the table, discreet as only the best service could be. It seemed likely that David wouldn’t care for wine, but Finley requested a bottle anyhow, because if he was going to pull out all of the stops with this little stunt, he was going to pull out all of the stops. Besides, if David didn’t care for it, nothing would stop him from ordering a different drink with his meal. Finley was, in fact, looking forward to seeing what sort of reaction the well trained waiters would have to someone who defied all their expectations, and yet they were forced to remain polite to anyhow. You really couldn’t buy entertainment like that.
Once the sommelier had walked away, Finley nodded to David’s menu. “Order anything you like. The owner owes me several very substantial favors. I get an excellent discount.” The place did, at least, have steak. That should be meat and potatoes enough to appeal to even a Winchester. He wondered if David would assume that he meant a contract for his soul; the man would likely have signed even that away, but what he’d actually come to Finley for was the money to start up the restaurant, which he was able to provide. No, Finley wasn’t interested in sending any more souls to Hell until he was safely in possession of the place.
Of course David wasn’t jealous, that was just stupid, he was only curious as to how Finley came by this sort of standing reservation at such a fancy place, and who he brought here. This didn’t seem like the kind of restaurant where you just brought anyone. What kind of deal had he made for this place? David idly wondered if those sorts of things from Dean’s world still applied the same way here. Did reincarnates of demons make deals with people? Could souls still be given in exchange? The very idea defied all logic in David’s mind, but considering in the span of the last few months he’d faced down a pack of vampires and exorcised one demon, it wasn’t out of the question. It made him briefly wonder if they could then possess people too. Considering he and his sister didn’t have the anti-possession tattoo yet, that was really bad news for them if it was possible.
He feigned being placated by the reassurance that he was a ‘special snowflake’, before they were distracted by the stuffy person who came over and Finley ordered something that definitely didn’t sound like beer. David very nearly made a face, he wasn’t really a wine person, but he didn’t want the pinched look on the server’s face to get anymore pinched so David distracted himself with the dessert section. He had been feeling hungry earlier, but now his stomach was kind of in big, anxious knots that made it hard to think about food. Pie, though. Pie was always good.
“Owes you favors, huh?” David dropped his menu onto the table, the wheels in his head turning as he tried to suss out the hidden context. Favors with demons usually meant a pretty hefty down payment that usually ended with a one-way ticket to Hell, so David was actually starting to feel a little nervous. He was currently stranded god knows where in a restaurant with a particularly powerful demon who may or may not be trying to make friends with him. David tried to play it off with a short laugh and leaned back in his chair to cross his arms over his chest. “One of those discounts wouldn’t happen to be in souls, would it? Is that why I’m here, you wanna make some kind of deal? ‘Cos I hate to break it to ya, sweetheart, but I don’t just give away my soul to the first pretty face I see either.”
"Oh, David, darling, there is more than one way to own a man's soul." Finley was tempted to drag it out, let him keep assuming what else would, but you never knew when those annoying morals might turn up to bite Finley in the ass... and not in the way he occasionally enjoyed. Instead, he leaned forward, lowered his voice to an even more intimate volume. "Money. He owes me a great deal of money, and he had difficulty keeping up with his payments. I offered him a better plan in return for a permanent reservation. No harm." At least, none apparent.
If David was attempting to give Finley a taste of his own medicine with the sarcastic compliment and endearment, he was going to have to try a bit harder to get under his skin. Finley was well aware of his pretty face. Having it complimented was really quite normal. As far as being called sweetheart... well, it was far from the worst thing he had been called in his life, even mockingly. He barely even blinked in the face of it, and that blink was actually more of a slow and deliberate one, dark lashes resting against pale cheeks for a breath before he opened his eyes again and gave him his most smoldering look. "It isn’t your soul I'm interested in." His voice fairly dripped with innuendo.
That accomplished to his liking, he leaned back in his chair once more, breaking the closeness. "Though if you'd like to keep telling me how pretty I am, do go on. My ego hasn't been stroked nearly enough today, it might start flagging." The comment could have been an innocent tease, for all that the tone of voice would give away the very deliberate word choice.
While it sounded pretty harmless, David wasn’t totally convinced. Foregoing loan repayments in favor of a permanent table reservation sounded like a pretty sweet deal for both parties, but he wondered if it actually stopped there. It would actually be a little less worrisome if all Finley was doing was dealing in souls, but if he was getting more creative than that, then he was more unpredictable than David originally thought. So, what then? Bookie? Loan shark? The dude was obviously some kind of con artist, though demons usually were by nature. Privately David wondered what he was like before Crowley, or if becoming the reincarnate of a demon had just been more of the same and Finley had already been living a life of people owing him money and favors for a longer amount of time.
It was only when Finley leaned back in his chair and therefore effectively breaking the spell that David realized he’d actually been leaning forward too, instinctively leaning in when Finley had like they were conspiring together or something. David blinked in confusion and sat back, wondering for a moment how it was that the tone of someone’s voice could unconsciously draw him in like that. Not to mention that look Finley had given him, his voice practically dripping with innuendo when remarking about his own soul that left him a little speechless. He wasn’t about to admit it, but Finley was good, David would give him that much. Way better than Dean’s usual level of suave. Though just because he was a momentarily awestruck didn’t mean he hadn’t heard what the man had said about his dealings with people, and the fact that he’d just admitted there was something from David that he was interested in. Soul or not, that probably wasn’t a very good sign.
All this should be more than enough reason to get David to exercise some real caution, maybe even try to leave (a quick glance at the back of the menu and seeing the Los Angeles address on it made him inwardly groan with embarrassment that he hadn’t even realized they were in California), but he hated to admit that this all just made his curiosity surrounding Finley grow exponentially. Probably wasn’t smart, but since when had a Winchester ever done the smart thing first? Besides, they were just having dinner. He wasn’t in too deep yet, he could still pull back if he needed to. At Finley’s encouragement to keep ‘stroking’ his ego, David laughed, not oblivious enough that he didn’t make the connection. “No thanks. Guessing I’m not here to stroke your ego, and besides. Somebody like you already knows it, I don’t need to tell you again and make that head of yours any bigger.” He raised an eyebrow with a small smirk. “You could tell me why I’m actually here, and what you’re interested in, if it’s not my soul. My boyish good looks? Celebrity status? I am in a band, it’s okay to admit it if you just wanted the chance to touch fame.”
“Clearly it’s been too long since your ego had a good stroking, if you think there could ever be too much of it.” Finley, under any other circumstance, might have offered to demonstrate. Instead, he continued, as mildly as he could, “And I’ve never had any complaints about the size of my head.” Oh, yes, anything could be turned into a metaphor for sex. One of the best bits about the English language, in Finley’s opinion; people were so delightfully squeamish about sex, particularly when confronted with the things they didn’t want to desire. Finley was fairly used to being that thing, and the more he could make his more homophobic customers squirm, the better the deal tended to work out in his favor. He wasn’t, of course, attempting to make any formal sort of deal with David, at the moment, but old habits died hard.
He listened to the string of reasons David suggested for why Finley might want his company, the small smirk that had become the resting position of his face over the years curling his lips. “Handsome as you are…” And David was good looking, there was no sense in denying that. It was part of his livelihood, after all, looking nice enough on stage that all the little girls and boys would want to fuck him. Finley, of course, wasn’t swayed by the fame. In his line of work, you saw all kinds of hopefuls. He’d come close to fame before. No, David being in a band wasn’t as impressive to Finley as it might have been to someone who had lived a different life.
Reaching across the table, Finley patted the back of his hand, a polite mask over the condescension that still allowed it to show through clearly. “I’m afraid it’s not you. It’s Dean.” What else would Finley, and Crowley, ever want with someone like David who was certainly not interested in making a deal, or doing anything even more interesting than that? No, he wanted Dean Winchester, and David was a necessary part of the man, one who was intriguingly more malleable. A malleable Dean was an… exciting… prospect for Crowley, and therefore for Finley, as well.
David wasn’t exactly squeamish about the subject of sex, but even he hadn’t expected Finley to take it as far as ‘head’ jokes. That surprised him enough that he was temporarily caught off guard and without any immediate retort. He’d been firing them off pretty good, he thought, but Finley was very obviously not that phased, able to give as good as he got. Then Finley finally said something that he was pretty sure actually had some truth to it after all the bullshit.
“I knew it.” David pointed a finger accusingly at him. He was pretty smug for a guy who had just been told by a demon that what they were interested in was very much a permanent part of him and that should be worrisome. He should probably be worried. He would probably be more worried later, once the reality fully set in. Right now, he was a little out of his element here, and they both knew it, so David wasn’t really trying to hide it. He was just being himself, and himself was probably more like Dean than either of them readily wanted to admit. David just so happened to be a little younger, and vastly more inexperienced than Dean to the point that being in the company of a demon like Crowley didn’t automatically put him on edge the way it probably should. David was going to blame Dean’s complicated relationship with Crowley for that one, since he had no problem being immediately hostile with that bitch who sounded like Meg and was already semi-regularly stalking his sister.
He crossed his arms over his chest, deliberately putting a little more distance between him and Finley. He was aware that the familiarity to which he was already responding to Finley with was plenty dangerous, and he shouldn’t make himself so readily vulnerable to it. Especially now that Finley had actually admitted that he wanted something from him. Or Dean, technically, but they were one, so David was still involved in that end game. Whatever Finley’s end game was. At that thought, David did get a little more nervous, though he thought he hid it well behind a very Dean-like knowing chuckle. “Lemme guess. You want his help with something. And I bet it’s something Sam and my sister wouldn’t approve of, so that’s why you came to me first. How am I doing so far?"
Finley didn’t think it was that difficult to figure out, but he’d give David this one. He seemed so pleased to have figured it out, it would be a shame to disappoint him. “That’s about the size of it, yes, with a few little kinks tossed in for good measure.” Really, he wasn’t even trying to make it about sex anymore, but he did his best to play the whole thing as cool as though he weren’t making unintentional innuendo. Whether or not David would notice it was a whole other matter. Secure in what he thought was a victory, he might ignore the implications altogether. Just as well, really. Talking about kinks was best reserved for the second date.
“One key alteration, though. I’m fairly certain your darling sister and Sam both would agree with the necessity of carrying through with some sort of plan, in this situation. I’m even more certain that neither of them would want to involve me in it.” So Crowley may have worked the situation to his advantage, manipulating Dean into getting the Mark of Cain and then making him into his very own Hell Knight. Wasn’t it about time to let bygones be bygones? That entire arc was over, after all, Dean safely restored to his previous pristine state, Crowley left to his cold comforts. He even wore an entirely different face, now.
David hadn’t run for the door, yet, so Finley sighed and let the cat out of the bag. He’d planned to do it far more gracefully, but plans always went awry once you got a Winchester involved. “I’m afraid I ran into Abaddon. In the head of an old fling, actually. It was all a bit messy.” Finley shook his head, grimacing. “I’d hoped she’d stay well away until I was in a better position to deal with her.” After all, Finley hadn’t even gained control of Hell yet, let alone lost it, and he had no plans to become addicted to human blood so long as David’s charming sister didn’t choose to start pumping him full of it. “Unfortunately, she’s as bloody inconvenient as ever.”
“... Ew.” That was David’s honest to god initial genuine reaction to the news, the entire troubling reality surrounding the existence of an Abaddon reincarnate overshadowed by the idea of someone - Finley - sleeping with her. He wrinkled his nose, looking almost nauseated before that look was replaced by one of dawning horror as the rest finally set in. Abaddon. Abaddon was here. David knew who she was just from Dean’s memories, and those were definitely enough. And he knew enough to know that she wasn’t some ‘low level demon’ like the one that he and Hannah had come up against on their search for the Men of Letters bunker. They had barely stood a chance against that demon, had only been able to walk away thanks to Finley, and David was positive they stood no better of a chance against her.
Unless they had Finley on their side. But David could already envision the multitude of problems that could come with that. Sure, Finley had been pretty helpful with that first demon, but when the Winchesters had teamed up with Crowley to defeat Abaddon? Dean had ended up with the Mark of Cain on his arm, and mostly thanks to Crowley. They were eventually able to get rid of her, but not without a terrible price, and the thought of the Mark of Cain still gave David the heebie jeebies. He in no way wanted any kind of repeat of the situation, and he wasn’t presently sure if he could trust Finley not to pull something like that over him if he thought he could get away with it. No matter what, Finley was still a demon. One who took him to nice restaurants, but still a demon, and damnitt where was that weird sounding drink? David wasn’t big on wine, but he needed to not be stone cold sober for this conversation.
David realized his mouth was hanging slightly open and immediately closed it, shaking his head clear while he was still trying to process everything. “So, wait. You want me to convince them it’s a good idea to work with you on this, is that it?” David looked incredulous, and twice as wary. “Why? So you can have me do your dirty work for you again? De-throne her and crown yourself King of Hell?” If there was one thing David was looking to truly avoid this time, it was the Mark of Cain, but this turn in the conversation was becoming painfully familiar. “... Dude. Think you were kind of understating those kinks. They’re not even the good kind.”
'Ew' didn’t even begin to cover Finley’s reaction to realizing he had effectively had sex with Abaddon. As it was, he had come to terms with the fact enough to not find himself traumatized about it all over again, so long as he reminded himself repeatedly that she hadn’t been Abaddon then, just another bored rich girl. Still, he was glad when their wine finally arrived and he could distract himself with that. Finley didn’t even really like wine that much, it was simply what one had with this sort of meal. At least it was alcohol.
It also gave him some time to consider how to word his answer to the rest, since he obviously couldn’t talk about it while the show of uncorking the bottle was going on. It always seemed ridiculous, but it was important to know the rules, if only so you could bend them when the time was right. It wasn’t to his advantage to break them at the moment. The distraction lasted just long enough for him to regroup entirely, and stop resenting Abaddon ruining what had really been a pleasant experience, before. That was the sort of thing that Abaddon did, ruining everything pleasant in one's life.
David was still on the right track, but Finley did correct him on one crucial bit. "Neither of us holds the throne of Hell, at the moment. Someone else is sitting there, and I think we know who that most likely is." Crowley hadn’t had to contend with Lucifer and Abaddon at the same time, and Finley had really hoped to avoid that for himself, as well. That didn’t mean Finley didn’t want the throne, of course. He felt it was better to work up to that particular goal once he had swayed David to his side fully. "But essentially, yes. She will be problematic, regardless of her position, and she is his creature through and through. You truly think, with all of Abaddon's memories, she will be willing to leave any of us alive?" Finley wouldn’t. Finley would get rid of both the Ryans and himself now, while they were weak. He may have been overestimating Alessa's intelligence, but better to be safe.
For the first time that day, since Finley had appeared in his dressing room, David was actually feeling a little less humorous about this whole thing. Truth be told, everything to do with the Mark of Cain scared the shit out of him, though he tried not to show it outwardly. He wasn’t sure how well he was doing, but David couldn’t really think straight enough to care at the moment. This was a lot at once to take in, and he knew he’d have to tell Hannah about this but David wasn’t even sure where to start. He had been naive to think that his life wasn’t going to get much weirder than an unexpected exorcism on a dirt back road in Kansas, but here he was, sitting across the table from the demon who had helped them. David had probably also been naive to think that he wouldn’t see Finley again, after that, though he could have never predicted the next time he’d see him would be when the guy just appeared out of nowhere in his dressing room after a show. His life was getting weirder by the second.
He was grateful for the short reprieve while someone came over to open the wine and fill their glasses, though the whole time David was pretty much just staring at Finley like a deer in headlights, and the server may have looked at him weird but David obviously didn’t notice. A million and one thoughts were going through his head at once, to which Dean had no immediate comments on so that was real fucking helpful. David was just starting to feel a little less internally hysterical when Finley started talking again and dropped the giant ‘Lucifer’ bomb, which on top of the already known existence of an Abaddon very nearly made David feel faint. When he’d first become a reincarnate it hadn’t taken him long to figure out that a lot of seriously crazy shit came with being the reincarnate of Dean Winchester, but he had never expected to have to deal with all that crazy shit all at once. The idea of an Abaddon and a Lucifer in one place made him actually feel physically nauseous to the point that he probably actually looked a little sick before Dean barked at him to focus and David shook his head clear, immediately going for the wine glass that was now filled on his side of the table and taking a drink. … And then immediately regretting it because god, he really hated wine, and David made a face without meaning to as he swallowed. “Jesus, that’s terrible.”
It was probably actually very good wine, maybe even on the more expensive side, so that was probably a huge offense to the establishment but David had no taste for wine, expensive or crappy two buck chuck, so it all tasted equally disgusting to him. Setting the glass down, he blew out a long exhale and looked at Finley, mentally trying to figure out how the hell you even responded to something like that. Was his life really about worrying which demon or devil was going to try and kill them next? Apparently, so he would have to wisen up, and fast, but David was privately already missing the simplicity of their earlier conversation. Before it had strayed to demon and Hell talk, when it was just harmless flirting (at least he thought it was harmless) and sarcastic banter. David could do those two things in his sleep, but trying to take down demons? Clearly he already sucked at it. But what Finley had said really struck a chord with him and sunk in deep, because Dean had been the one who killed Abaddon. Most likely, her biggest grudge would be with him, but that didn’t mean Hannah wouldn’t get hurt or killed in the process. He couldn’t let that happen. David fidgeted a little in his seat before he finally cleared his throat. “Okay, so… what do we do?” He was actually asking, and trusting that Finley would give him a truthful answer, no matter how misguided that trust might be.
Another time, Finley would have been amused by David’s reaction to the wine. He was able to mask his own distaste through experience, and an innate ability to fake it that would have led to him being right at home on stage, if he’d ever had any aspirations of being an actor. (It would have made sense if he had, what with his flair for the dramatic, but it seemed rather boring when he could be swindling people out of money and souls, instead.) He’d give David a bit of leeway, though, since he had just surprised him with not one, but two powerful demons who were floating around, likely plotting to kill the Winchesters because that seemed to be what they all did, with the exception of Crowley. Crowley was the only one to realize how much more useful it was to have them on his side. Then again, Crowley was the only one who hadn’t had much interest in ending the world. That, and clearly the most intelligent of the bunch, but that went without saying.
As for what they did… Finley’s plans had been vague, even from the start. Even if there had been a chance that David would be willing to repeat the same scenario that had rid the world of Abaddon the first time, the likelihood of there being a First Blade they could get their hands on, and a Cain willing to pass along the Mark, was low. Besides that, if they killed her right out, there was nothing to say she wouldn’t immediately be reincarnated again, just to be a real pain in the ass. He’d been hoping for a team, for the Winchesters and Castiel to be around and working together, experienced enough to pull something unlikely off. Instead, what he had was a pair of inexperienced hunters who hadn’t had an angel to call for help when they should have, one of whom was speaking to him only reluctantly, and the other of whom seemed to despise him (that, at least, was the same). At the moment, the best option seemed to be hiding somewhere that they wouldn’t be found, hoping Alessa pissed off someone bigger than herself, and starting over once she was safely out of the way. Strangely, though, he still couldn’t help but think it would all work out. The Winchesters always came out on top, no matter the cost, and then came back to fight a bit more.
What did they do… Finley took another sip of his wine, slowly, then set it down as well. “We work together. We could make a good team, you know. We did make a good team.” The one time he’d helped them out, anyway. It really wasn’t much of an experience to go on, but they’d gotten the job done. “I help you shape up as hunters before you get yourselves killed. I watch your back, you watch mine. When the time comes… well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, shall we?” Mostly because Finley wasn’t sure what they could do, without the tools they needed to kill Alessa. “Focus on the present. Let me worry about the long term plans. It’s what I do, darling.” With impeccable timing, the waiter returned to take their orders, which meant Finley didn’t have to fake knowing what the hell he was talking about anymore. He placed his order quickly, going with his usual after all, then quirked his eyebrows at David. “Whatever you’d like. Indulge a bit.” If David gave in to the first temptation, after all, the next was far easier.
David was really feeling entirely overwhelmed by this. That was probably a normal reaction to have, when someone told you there were reincarnates of seriously heinous demons and a permanently pissed off Lucifer walking around. Mind numbing fear, that was a thing David was currently experiencing, which was delaying the all out panic that would have otherwise immediately taken over. Also, the attempt at drinking wine had sufficiently thrown him off his guard enough that he had a hard time focusing, and therefore not able to go into complete panic mode just yet. No doubt he would later.
He wasn’t going to repeat Dean’s mistakes, but Finley didn’t say a word about Cain or the mark so that made him feel a little better. The plan still sounded a little too vague for his liking, but Finley had brought up a good point. He and Hannah didn’t really know what the hell they were doing. If they were going to do anything about this, even if that was just survive, they would need to be better. David wasn’t sure if they actually needed Finley to do that, but he wasn’t immediately against having the outside help. Except where Dean had always been a little more ready to work with Crowley, Sam never had, and David had a feeling Hannah would feel the same. This wasn’t going to be easy, and David had a lot of thinking to do before he said anything to his sister.
When it came down to it, David was going to do anything he could to protect Hannah. He knew how stupid it potentially was to make any kind of deal or alliance with a demon just judging by Dean’s own experiences, and there was always the greater chance that Finley was trying to use him more than work with him, but he had to take care of his sister. If that meant making this alliance with Finley, he’d do it in a heartbeat if it meant Hannah would be safe. That Winchester habit of going to great, sometimes ill advised lengths to protect each other had apparently rubbed off on the Ryans, except they’d always been that way, over protective and codependent outside of a potentially apocalyptic setting. He wasn’t prepared to give Finley an answer yet, not without talking to Hannah first and David was still undecided himself, but the seed was already planted. David was silent for a moment once Finley was done with his pitch, frowning at the table before meeting Finley’s gaze as the waiter came over. He definitely wasn't hungry anymore, but they were already here. “I’ll think about it.”