WHO: Crowley and Kol Mikaelson WHAT: Crowley has something for Kol. It's a bit weird. WHEN: Yesterday. WHERE: Crowley's room at the house currently crawling with Mikaelsons. RATING: TBD, but it's these two so probably not kid safe! STATUS: In Progress.
The King of Hell was actually exhausted. It was hard to make a demon tired, they didn't need sleep or food or drink, they were immortal like that. But it turned out that taking over an entire realm, one that was based on darkness and pain anyway, wasn't an easy job. Add into that all the work he had done on rescuing people from the Cage, and calming Ruby, and babysitting Emily, and letting his vampire's family take over his house in order to help the blondie one, and arguing with morons, and even a demon would feel run ragged. Even stressed.
It meant that whenever he could be, he was topside. The majority of his time was spent in Hell, it had to be, the King had to be in control, had to be seen as a leader, feared by many, commanding the loyalty of the masses. The last thing he needed was one of the more crass and violent types making a play for his throne. No, now it was the time of the politician demon, the salesman with ambitions. Times they were a-changing, as the song went, and he had to keep things moving along.
He had been inwardly debating giving Kol this gift for some time, wondering if he was doing the right thing, or if he'd live to regret it. Or not live, more to the point. But time, it seemed, was not his friend. Sam was a literal psychopath, and who knew what state he would be in if he got the soul back, and there was no way Crowley could trust Castiel not to move against him. He had enemies, far too many of them, and not enough people he truly trusted. Kol had, somehow, become one of them. How, he still didn't entirely know, but it had happened and now Crowley was going to prove it, while hopefully protecting his own future and simultaneously offering a grand gesture that could be described as epic.
Multitasking, what a glorious thing.
As he didn't know how long it would take Kol to come upstairs, Crowley was lounging back in his leather arm chair, a glass of scotch at his side, his eyes half closed as he tried to ease out the tensions that had formed in his, admittedly stolen, body. It was good to be the King, but it was also bloody hard work. Really, the title should come with a warning label.